#wanted to be weird and experimental for a double spread

[rvbsketches]

breakfast

[ghostgirl-22]

i think art identifies as totally 100% straight but squirms whenever he gets the slightest bit of male attention, and patrick is just waiting for the realization to hit him (and maybe trying to help him realize it, in his own way)

Poor baby— he’s so lost <3

CW:18+

—-

Art thinks he’s straight and that’s fine. Patrick’s not gonna argue his sexuality with him. He sees things in black and white. In his mind there’s straight and there’s gay and that’s it. They’re lying in bed one night watching a gay episode of Date My Mom on MTV and Art’s made up his mind. “I couldn’t even imagine it honestly, I’m just so attracted to women,” he explains matter of factly. As if one negates the other.

Patrick’s actually coming around to the fact that he, himself, probably likes both.

One too many nights spent jerking it while thinking about Art stepping out of the foggy bathroom, towel sitting low on his glistening waist, wet curls in his eyes. Art bent over in front of him on the tennis court while they’re in the middle of a doubles match. Art sitting across from him on his bed, legs spread wide, skin flushed, hands shoved down his pants moaning while they watch the Mummy on TV and perv over Rachel Weisz (and Patrick secretly on Brandon Fraser). Either way he’s starting to realize he likes at least one boy. A lot.

The reason he thinks Art is a repressed little liar is because of how squirmy he gets when boys flirt with him. Boarding school is so weird. They’re with boys all the time. The girls dorms are on the other side of the school and there’s something about being all cooped up together, sweaty and close, hormones going crazy that’s led to some… experimentation.

And plenty of boys want to experiment with Art. He’s blue eyed, easy to blush, long brown lashes, pretty smile, and the perfect little slutty waist. Of course he gets all kinds of male attention and he absolutely falls apart every time.

The flirting could be a little or a lot. It doesn’t matter… Art gets silly for it. Little compliments and he’s sitting on his hands, grinning too much. A bit of teasing and flirting and he’s giggling when things aren’t even funny. Fucking giggling.

Patrick’s present for a lot of it. Boys teasing him during gym class snapping at his waistband, the kind of immature grade school teasing like pulling on a girls braids repeatedly because you just want her to notice you. All that before they start calling him pretty boy and asking what color his underwear is and he really gets antsy. Then by the end of class there’s Art, cheeks pink, eyes bright. And he’s letting them take turns looking down his pants to see the color for themselves.

The little games of footsie with Sammy Kline under the table in the cafeteria. Art acting like it’s not flirting but they’re going back and forth all period, exchanging glances. Art’s all antsy, sucking on his spoon by the time lunch is over. And Patrick accidentally walks in on Sammy touching himself in an empty bathroom right after.

Or when Art is play wrestling with Jamal Butler after practice and he squeezes Art’s thigh just under his knee because he’s so ticklish there and Art is giggling and kicking and whining “stop it.” Breathless and airy, his weight settled on Jamal’s chest. Patrick tightened his grip on his phone, thinking Jamal would try to kiss him but Art pushed him down and grinned all flushed. “I beat you.”

Jamal playfully messes with Arts hair when they get to their feet and Patrick notices the way Art shivers for it. When Jamal leaves to get dressed Patrick is also aware when Art needs to adjust himself, just the slightest bit.

Art’s not just oblivious to the fact that what they’re doing is flirting, he’s oblivious to his own flirting.

He doesn’t think it’s flirting when he lets boys give him little things. An extra orange juice at breakfast. (“Please, can I have it? I’m still really, really thirsty.”) A candy bar from the vending machine. (“I’ll marry you if you get me a snickers right now.”) A hoodie to wear if he’s cold while they sit in the stands waiting for their match to start. (“I love you so much, I can’t believe I forgot mine.”) He’s always soft and tentative when he asks as if he can’t have whatever he fucking wants. As if boys don’t fall all over themselves for him.

Patrick’s probably in that category of flirting, giving Art everything… taking Art’s everything. Sharing cigarettes, drinks, food, clothes, a bed… everything he can.

Patrick’s actually obsessed with it. Can’t stop jerking himself off thinking about the ways Art gets all flustered around boys. Wiggling in his chair, bouncing his leg, wetting his lips, chewing on his thumb, on his clothes, on his pen… needs to put something in his mouth. These anxious little ticks. Art can’t name the feelings he’s feeling but Patrick knows what they are. They share the bedroom, he can hear it when Art’s touching. Knows he’s not really thinking about his girlfriend.

It’s with Patrick that boundaries consistently blur. Like the day when Jamal didn’t kiss him and his girlfriend was out of town and he’s crawling into Patrick’s bed asking him for help to practice so he can kiss her better. As if they don’t both know better.

And god forbid if Patrick points any of this out, or ever asks him about his behaviour. Art would laugh it off. He’d say Patrick is exaggerating and that those boys are just being friendly, they don’t want him. Besides it makes no sense because he has a girlfriend. But he’s still stuck in black and white… doesn’t really see all the colors of the rainbow yet.

Patrick finds it all amusing…one day it’ll hit him like a ton of bricks, like when he discovered it was okay to like both Nsync and the Backstreet Boys at the same time. Not that he’d ever really admit that he likes either but that’s a whole different story.

Patricks gonna be there to kiss him on that day too.

(Idk i wrote this on the clock I fear…sorry if it’s all a mess…but so is Art 😅)

[waitimcomingtoo]

This is Me Trying

Part one and two

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader enemies to lovers!

Synopsis: it’s time for secrets to come out

Masterlist

“How’s the project coming along?” You asked as you laid your head in Peter’s lap. You were in his room, like you always were, a month after you officially started dating.

“Just about done.” He answered you. “I made the periods bigger so we’d hit the maximum page length.”

“Ooo.” You snickered. “What a bad boy.”

“I’m really not.” He chuckled and began to play with your hair. “This is the most incriminating thing I’ve done all year.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you were.” You shrugged. “I like bad boys.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. Remember that guy that like died in the war but then came back to life as an assassin? From a few years ago?” You asked as you looked up at him.

“The Winter Soldier?” Peter wondered.

“Yeah. Him.” You nodded. “I wanted to fuck him.”

The bluntness in your tone knocked the wind out of Peter’s chest. Nothing could have prepared him for what you had just said. You were too busy laughing to notice how shaken he was.

“W-what?” He stuttered as you sat up.

“I don’t know.” You laughed. “Like, I knew he was a murderer but I was into it. I wanted to spread him on a cracker.”

Peter pouted and folded his arms, his jealously getting the better of him.

“He’s not as strong as he looks, you know.” Peter got defensive. “And his hair is super greasy. It’s like a freaking slip and slide up there.”

“Hm. That’s a problem for me. I’m more into curls.” You smiled as you ran your fingers through his hair. “And how would you know how strong he is?”

Peter gulped, realizing he had said a little too much. Spider-Man knew how strong Bucky was, but you didn’t know about that.

“I don’t.” He lied. “I’m just assuming.”

“You don’t think he’s strong with that metal arm?” You asked as you pulled up a picture of him on your phone. “His biceps are like the size of my head.”

“They’re only bigger than mine because he’s older. A lot older.” Peter insisted. “Like, he’s geriatric.”

“Oh my God. Look at him!” You ignored Peter’s comment and showed him a picture of Bucky. “I want to suck on his thighs.”

“Ew.” Peter whined. “He’s like 400 years old.”

“So what you’re telling me is he’s experienced.” You raised your eyebrows suggestively. Peter let out an angry huff, jealousy bubbling in his stomach.

“Gross.” He groaned. “Why are you saying this in front of me? I’m your boyfriend. Not him.”

“I’m just kidding, Pete.” You chuckled and cupped his chin. “Plus, he’s basically a fictional character to us. It’s not like he’s some guy we know.”

Peter looked to the side, hating when he had to lie to you. Bucky was someone he knew personally, but you didn’t know that.

“Hm.” Peter mumbled quietly. You noticed Peter’s expression and climbed into lab, straddling his hips.

“Hey, I’m sorry.” You cupped his face and rubbed your nose against his. “I didn’t mean to make you all pouty. I’m only kidding about the Summer Soldier.”

“Winter Soldier.” Peter halfheartedly corrected you.

“Winter Soldier. See?” You shrugged. “I don’t even know his name.”

“You still said you would fuck him, though.” Peter pouted as he looked down at his lap.

“I said I wanted to. Past tense.” You corrected. “I had crush on him when I was like 14. I don’t even think of him or his thunder thighs anymore.”

“I have a hard time believing that.” Peter grumbled. You could tell he was still jealous so you pulled him in for a long kiss.

“It’s true. I only have eyes for you, Pete.” You whispered once you pulled away. He cracked a smile before rolling his eyes at you.

“Right.” He said sarcastically. “Just me and the murderer you want in your pants.”

“Come on.” You whined when he didn’t let up. “Can you even blame me? He works with the Avengers. You have to admit, that’s hot.”

Peter stopped pouting when he heard this. He may not be able to be the kind of bad boy you liked, but he was an Avenger.

“You really think that’s hot?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Duh.” You stated. “Don’t you like the Avengers?”

“Most of them.” He nodded. “But not Bucky.”

“Who’s Bucky?” You asked.

“Sorry.” He shook his head. “The Winter Soldier.”

“Why did you call him Bucky?” You laughed in confusion. You had no idea who James “Bucky” Barnes was. Unlike Peter, who sat across from him at dinner a week before.

“That’s his nickname.” Peter explained without thinking it through.

“I didn’t realize you and the Winter Soldier were on a nickname basis.” You teased. “What does he call you?”

“He doesn’t really talk to me.” Peter shrugged. “He’s really quiet, except when he’s with Cap.”

You sat back suddenly, looking at Peter like he was crazy. He was forgetting who his audience was and how you knew nothing of his double life.

“What?” Peter asked when he saw your face.

“Bucky? Cap?” You repeated his words. “Who are these people? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Bucky goes by, well, Bucky. And most of us call Steve, Cap.” Peter explained. “Well, except for Mr. Stark. He calls him Blondie most of the time.”

“So you’re hanging out with the avengers now?” You raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Well, yeah, when when I’m…” Peter trailed off when he realized his mistake.

“When you’re what?” You asked. Peter knew he backed himself into a corner here. He didn’t want to lie to you anymore, so he figured it was time to tell you the truth. Not that he has much of a choice.

“I have something to tell you.” He stated. “It’s kinda important.”

“Okay.” You nodded and held his hand. “What’s up?”

“Don’t freak out, okay?” He prefaced. “It’s not as crazy as it sounds.”

“Oh.” You gasped. “Are you gay?”

“What? No.” Peter answered immediately. “Why was that your first guess?”

“Well my first guess was steroids but I know how you feel about that.” You mumbled out of the corner of your mouth.

“It’s neither of those things. I’ve Uh…I’ve been bitten.” Peter began, not sure how else to phrase it. You smiled a little, thinking he was flirting.

“So have I.” You mumbled as you brought his hand to your lips to kiss the back of it.

“No. Not like that.” He waved his hand and your face fell. “I mean, yes like that. But that’s not what I’m talking about right now.”

“Then what is it, Peter?”

“They do a lot of experimental science at Oscorp. Genetic mutations, stuff like that.” He explained, beating around the bush.

“Why are we talking about Oscorp?” You wondered.

“I broke into one of the labs freshman year.” He explained. “I was trying to figure out some equation my father was working on.”

“Okay.” You said skeptically.

“I ended up in this weird room with all these modified spiders and one bit me. Right here.” He showed you his knuckles, which had a tiny scar on the center. You took his hand and examined the scar closer.

“What is this leading to?”

“After I was bitten, I could do all these things I couldn’t do before.” He told you. “I could climb walls, lift buses, and you know, my biceps grew.”

“You’re telling me a spider bite gave you muscles?”

“I’m telling you that I’m Spider-Man.” He said finally, making the room go silent. It was his first time telling a person on purpose, so it meant a lot to him. Your expression changed from skeptical to serious as you dropped his hand. You reached forward slowly and touched his face, staring at him like you were seeing him for the first time.

“Oh my God.” You whispered. “Peter, you’re…”

He put his hand over yours when you trailed off, anticipating the end of your sentence. Suddenly, you pushed his face away with a smirk.

“Full of shit.” You finished. “You are so full of shit. You almost had me.”

“I’m not.” Peter insisted. “I am Spiderman. I swear.”

“Peter. Be serious.” You whined as you got off his bed. “I thought you had something real to tell me.”

“I am being serious.” He told you. “This is the truth.”

“This is the truth.” You mimicked his voiced, like you used to. “Why would I believe that? Because you called the Fall Fighter by his nickname? Please.”

Peter was starting to grow frustrated. He always feared someone would find out his secret and he’s have to beg them not to tell. He never imagined he’d be sitting in front of his girlfriend, trying to convince her he was Spiderman.

“I know Bucky’s nickname because I know him.” Peter explained as he got off his bed. “It’s the same reason I know how strong he isn’t. He tried to punch me once and I caught his fist before he could. And that thing is made of vibranium. My hand hurt for a week.”

“I don’t get it.” You shrugged. “I don’t get the joke.”

“It’s not a joke. I really am Spiderman.” He insisted. “Mr. Stark recruited me back in 2016 to help him fight Captain America at an airport in Germany.”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “And I killed Princess Diana. I killed her and framed John-“

Peter grabbed your face and kissed you to shut you up, not wanting to hear your jokes when he was trying to tell you the biggest secret of his life.

“Can you shut up for a second?” He asked sweetly when he pulled away. “I’m trying to talk to you about something important. And we both know who really killed her.”

“No you’re not.” You snorted. “You’re trying to mess with me.”

“I’m telling you the truth.” He whined. “Why won’t you believe me?”

“Because you’re saying ridiculous things.” You chuckled as you walked over to your phone, which had been resting on his desk.

“May’s asking what we want for dinner.” You read her text off your screen. “Do you want Chinese again or-“

Before you could finish your sentence, Peter shot a web at your waist and pulled you towards him. You stumbled into his arms before looking down in confusion. You saw the web attached to your hip and tugged at it, but it didn’t come off. You looked at Peter with wide eyes for some answers.

“What the fuck?” You whispered harshly as you yanked on the web.

“Do you believe me now?” He asked as he held up his wrist. You saw the web shooter he had slipped on and touched it carefully. Between the web on your hip and his crazy story, you had no choice but to believe him.

“Well now I’m just embarrassed.” You mumbled sheepishly. “I was pretty sure I was right.”

“I told you you’d have to get used to be being right.” Peter smirked as he helped pull the web off of you. You put your hands on your hips and sighed loudly as you processes the information.

“Okay, wait.” You began. “How have you been Spider-Man this whole time? I’ve seen you fall up the stairs.”

“It’s different when I have the suit on.” He told you. “It gives me confidence.”

“Can I see it?” You asked, a childlike smile on your lips.

“The suit? Sure.” Peter went to his closet and pulled it out of his hiding spot. He brought it over to you, noticing your awestruck expression and smiling.

“Wow.” You whispered as you stared at the folded suit. “Can I touch it?”

“Go ahead.” He smiled, loving how impressed you were. He watched you fondly as you carefully ran your fingertips along the suit, tracing all the lines and details.

“It feels like a football.” You commented, making him laugh.

“Yeah.” He agreed. “I’m not sure what material it is. Mr. Stark made it for me.”

“Tony Stark made this for you?” You gasped.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “A few years ago.”

“Is that when he recruited you?” You wondered. “For Germany?”

“Is it. You listened.” He smiled happily when you remembered little details he had told you.

“Well I can’t tune you out anymore if you’re my boyfriend.” You winked at him before returning your attention to the suit. He blushed a little, appreciating how far you’ve come in your relationship.

“Can you put it on for me?” You asked suddenly as you looked up at him. Peter didn’t expect this reaction, especially not this request.

“Really? You want me to put it on?” He smiled shyly.

“Please?” Your eyes lit up. “I want to see you in it.”

“Okay.” He nodded as he tried to hide his excitement. “I’ll go put it on.”

Peter went into his bathroom and slipped into the suit. He didn’t know why he was as excited as he was to show you. Maybe because you hadn’t caught him in the suit like May and Ned had. He told you his secret willingly, and you asked to know more.

“Are you ready?” You called from the other side of the door. “I feel like I’m waiting to see you walk down the aisle.”

“I’m ready.” He called back as he pressed the center of the suit so it tightened against his skin. He gave himself one last look in the mirror before going back to his bedroom.

“Here it is.” He said sheepishly as he walked towards you. “What do you think?”

Your jaw dropped a little when you saw him. He seemed taller, but you realized it was just because he wasn’t slouching. In his suit, he looked more confident then you had ever seen him. He looked like a hero, and it brought a smile to your face.

“Holy shit.” You whispered as you walked closer to him. You reached forward to touch him, but quickly moved withdrew your hand.

“Are you scared?” He worried when he saw you pull away.

“No. Not of you.” You assured him. “But sometimes I find random glitter on my hands and I’m scared of getting anything on the suit.”

Peter chuckled at your reasoning and picked up your hand.

“It’s okay. You can touch me.” He whispered as he put his hand on his chest. Your eyebrows went up when you felt his warmth through the suit.

“Wow.” You smiled softly. “I didn’t think I’d be able to feel your heartbeat through it”.

“Well you make it beat pretty fast.” He told you as he put his hand over yours.

“Wait.” You pulled away a little. “If you’re Spider-Man, does that mean…”

“Yes?” Peter asked when you trailed off.

“You can set me up with Bucky.” You finished your sentence. “Do you have his number? Tell him I want to wash his hair.”

Peter let out a loud groan, not finding your joke funny. You laughed and tried to pull him back to you, but he kept pulling away.

“I’m kidding. I’m kidding. Come back.” You laughed and tugged on his arm. “Come here. I love you.”

Peter stopped pulling away and froze. When you saw the bewildered look on his face, your smile fell.

“What?” He asked, his voice coming out in a whisper. That shit eating grin you used to hate broke through, lighting up his features. You tried not to let your shock show as you realized what you had said.

“Hm?” You pretended not to understand. “What?”

“What did you just say?” Peter again, now unsure he has heard you correctly.

“I didn’t say anything.” You shrugged, trying to act like you didn’t just tell your boyfriend that you loved him. It’s not that you didn’t mean it, but you didn’t mean to tell him that soon.

“Did you just tell me you loved me?” Peter asked hopefully as he pulled your closer to him.

“Hm. No. Wasn’t me.” You shook your head. “Must have been the wind.”

“My windows are closed.”

“Air conditioning.” You corrected.

“It’s off.”

“Then I don’t know what to tell you. I didn’t tell you I loved you. That would be ridiculous. How could I have fallen in love with the most annoying person on the planet?” You asked, questioning yourself more then him. You didn’t know how you had fallen for Peter in such a short amount of time. Just a few months ago, you couldn’t stand him. Now, you were standing in front of him, hoping he loved you back.

“I ask myself that every time I look at you.” He said, making your breath hitch in your throat.

“Are you saying you love me too?” You asked slowly.

“I thought you didn’t tell me you loved me?” He smirked, always taking a chance to tease you.

“I didn’t.” You lied, but you knew you were caught.

“Damn. That’s a shame.” Peter smiled softly. “Because I love you.”

“Yeah.” You smiled back once he confessed his feelings. “I bet you do, loser.”

Peter laughed at your never ending need to insult him before pulling you into a kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck to keep him close. You could feel his gloved hands on the bare skin of your waist and shivered. When you pulled away, you kept your foreheads pressed together.

“I never thought it would be you.” You mumbled as you twirled one of his curls around your finger. “I never thought I’d fall in love with you.”

“It surprised me too.” He chuckled. “I’m glad this happened though. You weren’t just who I wanted to be. You were who I wanted to be with.”

“Promise me you’ll be careful.” You whispered. “I don’t ever want to get a call at three am telling me I need to come to the hospital. And I don’t want to start bringing three roses to the cemetery instead of two.”

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere.” He assured you as he held your face between his hands. He wiped your tears away with his gloves hands and kissed your nose. “I would never go anywhere where you couldn’t follow”.

“Ew.” You sniffled as you wiped your eyes.

“Why ew?” He chuckled.

“We’re gross.” You said. “We fell in love and now we’re gross.”

“It’s okay.” He smiled. “I like being gross with you.”

“I’m gonna throw up.” You gagged, making you both laugh.

“You’ll be okay.” He told you, and you believed him.

“Okay, now that we got that conversation out of the way, I have a lot of questions about all of this.” You said as you gestured to his suit.

“Ask me anything.” He said. “I’ll answer.”

“What did you wear before this?” You wondered. “I saw Spider-Man sightings on the news before 2016.”

Peter went to his closet and pulled out his original Spider-Man suit, the makeshift hoodie he used to wear.

“This. I made it myself.” He said as he handed it to you.

“No kidding.” You teased as you took it from him. “Did you sew this with your feet?”

“It was the best I could do.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m so lucky he made me a real suit. This one was not very protective.”

“Actually, I kind of like it.” You smiled as you held it up. It had bullet holes and tears everywhere. “It shows where you’ve been. And how far you’ve come.”

“I like your way of looking at it.” He smiled. “It’s yours, if you like it so much. I don’t need it anymore.”

“Why don’t you tell people that its you? This would make you famous. Like, Tony Stark famous.” You said as you put the hoodie on. “Don’t you want that? You know, since you’re such a loser at school.”

“Very funny”. He narrowed his eyes at you. “And no, actually. I’m safer this way. Plus, the bad guys can’t tell if I’m scared with the mask on. And it’s fun to have a secret. It gives me an edge.”

“Wow. I did not think me telling you I wanted to fuck the Winter Soldier would lead to all of this.” You poked fun at the situation.

“Me either but I’m glad it did.” He remarked. “I’m happy that you know. And I’m happy that you love me.”

“Well don’t make a big deal out of it.” You mumbled. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Don’t be embarrassed.” He laughed. “This is exciting. It’s all exciting.”

“We get it.” You teased as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “You’re an Avenger, I’m in love with you, yada yada. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It’s the hugest deal.” He insisted. “I want you to meet them. Come meet my team.”

“You want me to meet the Avengers?” You gulped.

“Yeah. I’m supposed to stop by the tower later for a meeting. Why don’t you come with me? This is one of the rare days where everyone is in the tower.”

“Are you sure about this?” You asked him. “What if they don’t like me?”

“They probably won’t.” He said simply. “Since you’re so irritating and everything.”

“Shut up.” You shoved him playfully. “I’m serious. This is way more intimidating than meeting someone’s parents.”

“Don’t be scared. I’ll be holding your hand the entire time.” He said as he kissed your knuckles. “And they’re way less intimidating than they seem. I promise, you’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” You reluctantly agreed. “I’ll meet them. But if I see Bucket, I can’t promise I’ll be able to control my hormones.”

“It’s Bucky.” He corrected. “And I’ll know if you’re getting too, you know, hot and bothered.”

“How would you know?” You asked, and his face flushed.

“Well, one of the powers I got was super smell. I can smell when people are scared or happy or…” He trialed off, too much or a gentleman to say the word.

“Horny?” You asked with a dropped jaw. “You can smell when people are horny?”

“I prefer the term aroused.” He said sheepishly, making you laugh loudly.

“Oh my God. What a pervert.” You teased him.

“It’s not my fault!” He was flustered now. “I didn’t ask for this power.”

“Wait.” You realized. “Can you smell when I’m aroused?”

Peter didn’t answer, but his silence spoke volumes. Your jaw dropped as you playfully smacked him.

“You pervert!” You painfully scolded. “You could smell that and never told me?”

“It’s my my fault.” He whined. “Not all the time, anyway.”

“So when is it your fault?” You folded your arms and he gulped.

“It’s only my fault when I purposefully wear that one white shirt.” He said quietly. “Whenever I’m wearing it, I can always, you know...”

“Smell me?” You nearly screamed. “You wear that shirt just to get a rise out of me? You little slut.”

“I’m not a slut.” Peter laughed. “I could just smell how much you liked it, so I started wearing it more. And in the name of being honest, I can smell you right now.”

“Oh my God. You whore. You little minx.” You taunted playfully. “Using your body for attention like that. What a dirty little slut.”

“I’m not dirty or a slut.” Peter insisted. “You’re the one who gets worked up over a t shirt.”

“Excuse me?” You let out a shocked laugh. “Don’t turn this around on me, mister. I can’t control how I react to your erotic clothing. Especially when you’re the one who can’t even form a sentence around me when I wear that one red skirt.”

“Erotic?” He shot back. “It’s literally a $5 shirt from Target. It’s shapeless. And that skirt could not be shorter. I can literally see your ovaries in it.”

“You give it shape with your stupid spider muscles.” You said as you pointed an accusing finger at him.

“Oh my God.” He gasped. “You’re thinking about the shirt now, aren’t you?”

“No I’m not.” You said quickly.

“Really?” He cocked his head. “Smells like you are.”

Before you could respond, and you had a lot to say, Peter’s phone buzzed.

“It’s Mr. Stark.” He told you. “He said I should come now.”

“We’re finishing this conversation later.” You said as you grabbed your phone. “You’re still in trouble.”

“Whatever you say.” Peter chuckled as he lead you out the door. You thought you were going to the elevator, but Peter brought you to the staircase.

“I don’t walk there.” He said as he lead you up the stairs. He opened the door to the roof and gestured to the edge. “I swing.”

The next thing you knew, you were swinging towards the Avengers tower in Peter’s arms. You held on tightly to him as you tried not to scream in his ear. He was loving how he finally got to show someone what his life was like while you were fearing for your life. Finally, you landed on the balcony of the tower and Peter set you down.

“So?” He asked excitedly. “Did you have fun?”

“You tell me. Can’t you smell my excitement?” You jeered as you caught your breath. Peter knew you weren’t going to drop that for a long time. He took his mask off and lead you inside, not wanting to tell you that he could smell how scared you were.

Finally, he brought you to the conference room where the rest of the Avengers were. Their causal chatter came to a stop when you walked in together and all eyes were on you.

“Hey everyone.” Peter said shyly. “This is my girlfriend, Y/n. Shes gonna sit in on the meeting today.”

“Y/n?” Nat jumped in immediately. “The one who’s hair you used to stick gum in when you were little?”

“I thought Y/n was the girl who filled your locker with extra small condoms and the filmed you when they all fell out.” Sam chuckled, giving you an impressed smile.

“No, wait.” Bruce cut in. “I thought she was the one who started the rumor that Peter didn’t know how to swim.”

“You’re all wrong.” Steve sighed. “Y/n is the one Peter blamed losing the class pet on. Remember? The little rat escaped and he told the class it was her fault.”

“It was a hamster.” Peter cringed. “And it was my fault. Sorry about that.”

“I love you, but I will never forgive you for that.” You smiled softly as you stroked his cheek with your thumb. The team looked at each knowingly at this display of affection.

“Love?” Tony asked as he entered the room. “Are we talking about how much you all love me?”

Tony stopped in his tracks when he saw you standing there. You had forgotten to take off Peter’s original Spider-man hoodie, and it caught Tony off guard. He never thought he’d see that hoodie again, the one that brought him to Peter in the first place. The one he studied and tried to replicate when he made Peter a new suit. The corners of his mouth turned down as he appreciated how much Peter had grown.

“Oh. I see Peter brought a friend.” Tony remarked. “Please, make yourself at home in our top secret facility that no one unauthorized personnel is supposed to enter.”

“Mr. Stark, this is my girlfriend Y/n.” Peter introduced you. You held out your hand for Tony to shake, and he did so without taking his eyes off of you.

“Y/n?” He asked. “The one-“

“Yeah. Probably.” You nodded, making him laugh.

“Nice to meet you, Y/n.” He said as he straightened himself out. “You’re welcome to sit in on the meeting. But if you make any noise, you will be taken out by a sniper.”

“He’s kidding.” Peter whispered to you, but he wasn’t entirely sure. Peter took a seat and you sat on his lap, making him fight back a smile. He was now at an Avengers meeting with his former enemy sitting on his lap, wearing his clothes.

“Thank you, sir.” You smiled at him. “It’s nice to meet you too. All of you. I appreciate everything you guys have done for the world. You’re all really brave.”

“Your boyfriend is pretty brave too.” Steve commented. “He surprises me everytime we work together.”

“I was surprised too.” You agreed. “I didn’t think the biggest loser I knew was protecting Queens.”

Everyone raised their eyebrows at your subtle jab at Peter and it suddenly made sense why the girl he’d been complaint about all these years had the same name as his girlfriend.

“You let her talk to you like that?” Sam teased.

“She can say whatever she wants.” Peter shrugged. “And she does. Do you know how hard it is to get her to stop talking?”

“Not nearly as hard as it is to get you to clean up after yourself, put the toilet seat down, or show up on time for dates.” You replied with a cheery smile. Peter smiled back and took the loss, not wanting to get into it in front of his team. He turned back to Tony and gave him his full attention as the meeting began. You stayed quiet on Peter’s lap as the team discussed their next mission and who would be covering what territory. You made a small noise when Tony gave Peter his assignment, making everyone look at you.

“Whats the matter?” Peter asked as he bounced you a little on his knee.

“I just didn’t realize you were such an important part of the team.” You said. Peter had a big role that required a lot more responsibility than you thought he was capable of. He didn’t seem worried in the slightest, which told you he was used to this much responsibility. Something about Peter’s ambition and ability to take on Avenger level tasks for very appealing to you.

So appealing, in fact, that Peter noticed.

“Hm.” Peter said and he sniffed the air. You folded your lips in, knowing exactly what he was doing. The rest of the team had no idea what was happening, but you knew Peter was trying to get a rise out of you.

“What’s wrong?” Nat took the bait. You pinched Peter’s leg under the table as he took another loud whiff.

“Nothing.” Peter smirked. “It just smells funny in here.”

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[cryptic-corp]

Ralph Records, The Residents, and how to dilute a brand.

When Ralph Records was formed in 1972, there was no market for it beyond the close friends of the group responsible for its output. There wasn’t even another group on the label with whom fandoms could be spread. It was just The Residents (Or Residents Uninc, whatever) doing whatever they wanted.

Within the first five years of the label’s existence, Ralph Records only released three LPs and four 7 inches, all limited to 1,000 copies or less, likely due to the cost of production, but once the group began receiving attention from the mainstream press and a following began to surround them, the scarcity of releases created a rich and obscure mythos of 4 records, as well as an impression of quality control.

This newfound fandom shot Ralph Records into hyper-drive. Suddenly, the label’s knack for ironic and intriguing press releases had a market to be sold to; people to sign up for the newsletter, someone to run a fan club.

With Jay Clem at the helm, every Ralph Records release was an event built up by the story, ‘the lore’ and the gimmick. The Commercial Album had radio slots, Mark of the Mole had the Mole Trilogy, and Eskimo had four years of teasing as the group’s magnum opus, that they wouldn’t release until it’s perfection, and Not Available, teased from the second album onwards.

These stories were built up in magazines over years, causing the final product to taste even sweeter, and by the 1980s, Ralph had obtained enough of a highly devoted fanbase that their supporters would buy into any band sold to them due to their level of quality control. The label began putting out more bands that weren’t The Residents. Every Ralph album was worth buying into because every Ralph album had The Cryptic Corporation's seal of approval. How many other labels had that following, where the audiences could count on the labelmates being something they’d like?

The Residents, meanwhile, had gained a reputation as a gimmick band, a novelty act. Whose albums were silly jokes for listeners to pull out, and laugh about with their guests. The Residents, of course, hated that this was their reception and decided to release a series of albums with no jokes—the Mole Trilogy; Mark of the Mole, a dark and edgy story of immigration, with heavily advertised double metaphors for the group’s immigration into the music world and The Tunes of Two Cities, a humourless instrumental album whose only form of ‘wacky experimentation’ was the fact that it used revolutionary sampling equipment. 

With previous Residents albums, there was a sense of instant gratification. You heard the strange music and were instantly struck by something new. Any of those albums were the perfect entry points into the strange world of The Residents. But Tunes, as with the rest of The Residents’ output from this point onwards, wants you to meet it halfway.  

The Residents were tired of the gut reaction of ‘weird gimmick.’ They began crafting their albums to be approached purely intellectually. You must be willing to engage with it on its terms and listen through multiple times to see what they’re trying to do because, unlike the earlier albums, it will not jump out at you. The American Composers series seems to be the ultimate example of them trying to be taken seriously, covering the great composers without even a smirk.

This (understandably) turned off many people. In 1982, many more attractive, younger bands were arriving on the scene, willing to give you the instant gratification The Residents were starting to lack.

This created a culture The Residents have buried themselves into and never broke away from; The Residents’ new album is for Residents fans. It is being marketed to Residents fans. It is to be heard by Residents fans. That is all. They don’t care about attracting new listeners, because they’ve accumulated enough fans to satisfy them. 

Meanwhile, on the old Ralph front, the label was not doing well. Ralph dropped their non-residents acts overnight due to an inability to finance them, and it looked like it would be the company’s end if they didn’t do something. The only thing they could do was take The Residents on tour, and if They were going to tour, it would have to be significant.

The Mole Show was designed to be performed locally at a handful of theatres during the Halloween ’82 season. The show featured a large stage crew and even larger props to be conveniently placed at each theatre over the week. This version of the show was well-received and profitable (their lack of live shows added to their mythology in the 70s), and when the idea came to take it to Europe, there was likely a resounding ‘yeah, why not.’ 

The euro Mole Show bankrupted the label. But I probably didn’t need to tell you that. 

Ralph was sold to friend of the group Tom Timmony, and instantly, it began whoring itself out to get out of debt. Timmony eventually began signing more bands to the label, but the same quality control, it would seem, was missing, as any review for First Chud would tell you.

Between 1976 - 1982, there was one Residents album per year. One solid product for fans to point to and say, ‘This is The Residents’ newest release. buy that.’ But all of a sudden, Ralph began inflating the market; Mole Show, Title In Limbo, and Residue. All released in the same year, looking vaguely, but not quite, like The Residents’ newest product. Confusing the market with an overflow of not-quite new stuff, a market to whom Ralph had promised a Part Three of The Mole Trilogy, who were never going to get it. 

This inflation worsened as they left the label in the late 80s and began to spread themselves thin across multiple labels. The point of the group being on various labels was seemingly to separate the significant releases from the secondary ones. For example, UWEB, The Residents’ fan club label, would put out albums that only hardcore fans would be interested in, and the labels with broader distribution put out stuff for your casual listener to pick up; continuing with Ralph America, RSD, and now Klanggalerie, all acting as small labels putting out stuff for hardcore fans. 

But in the internet age, all these albums appear in the same lists of releases, giving the illusion of a seemingly endless discography, with casual fans having instant access to more niche works like Liver Music, never intended for a casual listener.

The damage has been done to The Residents’ brand, and it seems impossible for the group to repair it. There are however, ways for new fans to discover the group and their more accessible material, the documentary ‘theory of obscurity’ and the 2001 Constantinople music video being shared through YouTube, are for example, two very common ways for people to get into the band. 

The Residents still put out interesting material, and it hurts that only the fans notice.

[weasleyswizardpleases]

And the Living is Easy (Fred x reader)

Summary: You spend the first night of summer vacation getting into trouble with the Weasleys + Harry and Hermione. Fred x reader. Fluffy mischief mostly, but sex is discussed and implied. 

Warnings/Notes: Light sexual content but not all out smut, alcohol, heights, language. I wrote this to be a stand alone, but I enjoyed it so much that it might become part of a loose series of slice of life-y reader x twins fics set at the burrow over the summer! ps i did not edit this at all after writing it at 2am so. uh

Summer at the Weasley’s is my favorite time of year. After my mother passed, you were tossed around from boarding school to boarding school, relative to relative, never really having a say in where you went, or with whom. But ever since becoming fast friends with Fred and George while repairing brooms for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, you’ve pretty much been considered an honorary Weasley.

You stow your suitcases in the overhead and squeeze into a seat next to Fred and George. Across from you, Ron, Lee, and Harry are packed in. 

“Do you reckon you’ll ever make it out to the burrow, Lee?” asks George pointedly. 

“Yeah, you don’t know what you’re missing out on. Mrs. Weasley’s hotcakes are out of this world.” Harry says.

“And there’s loads of space to play quidditch.” you say.

“And loads of secret spots not even Mum knows about where we can basically do whatever we like.” adds Fred.

“You know my mum will hardly let me out of her sight for a day. Merlin’s sake, she’s practically ass to elbow on me all summer.” Lee says, faking a pout. “Quit ribbing at me, would you? Or I’ll spend the summer in my room coming up with derogatory names to call you on the Quidditch pitch.”

Murmurs of “Come on, we’re only joking.” and “Fine, fine.” fill the packed compartment. You lift your rat Pansy up to the window to show him the scenery.

“Bet you’ve never seen the fine English countryside like this, eh Pansy?” you baby-talk at him, scratching his little noggin.

“You know that thing is never gonna talk back at you, right Y/N?” says Fred, rolling his eyes. 

“You never know. Look what happened to Scabbers.” you say, wiggling you eyebrows. “This rat could also secretly be a creepy little pervert who watches me undress at night.”

“I suppose it isn’t unprecedented in the rat community,” agrees George. Ron scowls in disdain.

“That’s my pet we’re talking about!” he says, causing everyone to burst into laughter.

“Yeah, fine pet he was.” says Harry, grinning.

“I will say, Ron-” Fred begins, clearing his throat. “You’ll never find another like him.” He claps his little brother on the back and stands up, peering down the hallway. “Oi, it’s the trolley, look alive Georgie.” George rises and straightens his coat. The boys have been planning for ages to charm the trolley witch into selling their skiving snackboxes. They run off down the car towards her. You tuck Pansy back into his cage and watch the scenery go by yourself. Before you know it, you’re being shaken awake by Fred and George. 

“C’mon, Dad is waiting!” says George. 

“Got you some chocolate frogs, but that means you owe us one.” says Fred, shoving a wriggling paper bag into your hands. Delighted, you expertly open the bag, catch a frog, and slurp it up before it manages to escape. 

“Tank -ou” you mumble, your mouth still full. Lugging your trunks over to meet Mr. Weasley, you smile with excitement. Every summer with the Weasleys is a blast, but you know this one will start off with a bang because last week Fred absconded with a jug of top shelf mead from Filch’s office. You’d all agreed that you needed it more, since you want to have fun and have no money, while Filch obviously dislikes fun and ostensibly has some amount of money squirreled away from all his groundskeeping or lurking or whatever his job is. 

After greeting Molly, you and the twins bound up to their room- and, when you’re here, your room- pushing and shoving your way up the narrow stairwell. You toss your things down and throw yourself onto a bed, spreading your arms as if making a snow angel. 

“Oh, boys, it is good to be home!” you say, laughing. Fred and George always joke that their mother likes you, Harry, and Hermione better than any of her own actual children, and you love teasing them about it. 

“Speak for yourself, she’s already got that sending-us-to-de-gnome-the-

garden-while-hungover gleam in her eyes,” retorts George good-naturedly.

“And get your shoes off my bed! Mum will have all three of us beating out the rugs if she sees that.” says Fred. You close your eyes and pretend to be asleep, baiting the boys into attempting to push you off the bed. You wind up making such a ruckus roughhousing that Hermione comes in looking concerned, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. You all three pause from your compromised position to look at her, you releasing a vise grip on Fred, George dropping your left leg, which he had been twisting violently.

“When did you get here?” you ask, running to hug her. 

“Just apparated over, my parents would never forgive me if I didn’t at least drop by for dinner before practically moving here for the summer!” she replies, turning to greet the twins. 

“Are you going to be participating in our little soiree tonight, ‘Mione?” asks George, raising an eyebrow. 

“What are you three planning?” she asks sternly, stifling an excited smile.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” you say. 

“But don’t wear white shoes.” warns Fred. Hermione gives you all a funny look before running off to finish her greetings. 

“Where are we going tonight, Freddie?” you ask, looking up at your tall friend. He gives you a cheeky glance.

“Oh, out by the bog. There’s a huge hill between there and the house, so we can make a fire and nobody will see.”

“And there’s a huge stand of trees and a pond between that spot and the neighbors’,” says George. 

“You two have got it all figured out. And you’ve got the firewhiskey! What a night, what a night it shall be.” you say, your voice singsonging as you dance exaggeratedly. 

“Too bad nobody invited any girls.” says Ron from the doorway. He’s been standing in the hallway looking in the mirror for some time now, fussing with his hair.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Ginny shouts from her open door down the hall.

“YOU don’t count!” Ron replies.

“We know you’ve got someone else in mind, little brother.” George says, flicking Ron in the ear. 

“It’s pretty obvious,” Fred agrees.

“You get all flustered when she corrects your grammar,” you say.

“And you let her braid your hair.” says Fred.

“And you-” begins George, but Ron interrupts, his face beet red.

“Shhhh! Buzz off you two, or I’ll start blabbing on about who you’re interested in as well.”

The twins exchange a somewhat threatened glance, but say nothing.

“That’s right, I’m not as dull as you lot like to think, thank you very much. I notice things. So let me alone or I’ll sing like a canary!” Ron finishes, turning back to the mirror for a final glance at his hair before trotting downstairs. 

“You two have crushes?” you demand, turning to stare down the twins. Fred shrugs with his usual attitude but you notice a light blush spreading across each of their cheeks. You swat him across the chest. “Why didn’t you tell me? Who is it? You motherfuckers.” You grab George by the collar. “George, tell me who it is! A crush, my god.” You throw your hands up in the air. They’re being super weird, so you decide to drop the subject. “When you snog every girl and half the boys in the school, between the two of you, you practically hold us all down to tell us the details but now you’ve got a crush and suddenly you’re like a couple of mimes.” You look each of them in the eyes, and both avoid your stare. “Fine! Don’t tell me.” You throw your hands up in mock anger and lead the charge downstairs to begin setting the table for dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~After dinner, you pass the evening playing cards and chatting until Mr. and Mrs. Weasley retire for the night. Then, you’re left with all your friends and Percy, who it has been agreed simply cannot know you’re sneaking out to drink in the woods, because he is a killjoy. Using a previously discussed maneuver, Hermione attempts to trick him into believing that she and Ginny are going to bed, hoping that he will get nervous about being bullied if left alone with you and the twins, and elect to follow them to bed soon after. However, Percy is in an unusually jovial mood, and so Ron and Harry are forced to retreat as well. As a last line of defense, you pretend to fall asleep on George’s shoulder, nuzzling into his sweater. When Percy gets up to go to the bathroom, you dash outside into the moonlit yard, covering your mouth so your giggles don’t give you away. You run to crouch behind the garden shed, doubled over with laughter. 

“I thought he would never stop yapping.”

“God, how are you two related to that bore?”

“We can’t help it.” Fred says, bending to gather rocks from the ground. 

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Watch!” he raises his hand to throw a pebble at Ginny’s window, but you grab his wrist.

“Have you lost the plot? Percy will hear! And probably your mum too, with your aim. I’ve got a better idea,” you say, peeking around the garden shed while gesturing for the boys to stay put. You pop out of the shed with a dusty, rickety broom. 

“Does this thing still work?” you ask.

“Well enough,” says Fred, getting a running start and jumping on the broom. Wobbling a bit, he sails up to Ginny’s window and confers with the girls, then moves on to Ron’s window, where he perches on the sill, one foot dangling out the window.

Beside you, you’re aware of George’s presence beside you in the cool, sticky night.

“Bloody brilliant,” he murmurs, elbowing you gently. “How’d you even know that thing was in there?”

“Lucky guess. I mean, with a family full of Quidditch players, there’s bound to be a broom lying about someplace.” 

Fred jumps down onto the broom and turns a few experimental loop de loops overhead before nearly falling and coming to a shaky landing near your feet. 

“That one belongs on the rubbish heap, honestly,” he says, laughing as he tosses the old thing aside.

“Oh, sure, blame it on the broom,” you tease.

He’s soon followed by Ginny and Hermione on Ginny’s broom. They glide down and come to a halt next to you, stepping down gracefully.

“How are Harry and Ron going to get out? They’d have to go right by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s room, unless Harry has his broom up there with him, but I think I saw it in the foyer.” says Hermione, looking at Fred worriedly.

“Well, err, I told them to climb down,” says Fred earnestly.

“What?!” says Hermione. “They’ll be loud as bison, besides probably breaking their necks.”

“It’s not my fault they’re too dumb to pass their apparation O.W.L.S! They’ll be fine.”

As he finishes his sentence, Ron’s window slides open and Harry’s head pops out. He lowers what appears to be a rope made of sheets and blankets tied together. Hermione’s brow furrows as she watches, helpless, while Ron artlessly slips one leg out the window, before even checking to see that the “rope” is nowhere near long enough to reach the ground. Ginny giggles, biting her lip when she sees Hermione’s distress.

“Do something!” Hermione hisses, nudging her. Ginny groans and soars over to boost Ron onto the back of her broom, going back to do the same for Harry.

“Shite! The firewhiskey,” you whisper, smacking your forehead. Everyone lets out a collective groan, but before you can send someone back up to hunt down the alcohol, Ginny opens her backpack, revealing the gleaming jug. Everyone cheers, but then quickly realizes that loudly cheering may have blown your cover. Fred and George scurry off into the brush and you all follow them down a lightly trod path through the countryside, eventually reaching the open bank of a large, murky pond. This is a spot you’ve never been to before, probably because it’s a fair stretch away from the house, and apparently from any civilization at all. 

Hermione quickly conjures a large fire, creating a pocket of warmth in the chilly night air. You lean against a large rock and shiver when the cool stone brushes the back of your neck. Ginny pulls out the firewhiskey and hands it to Fred, who pops the cork, shouting with glee before knocking back a sip and passing it to George, who passes it to you. The familiar sickly sweet liquid burns your throat and warms your stomach, and you feel your (already barely existent) inhibitions begin melting away.

Before long, Ron suggests that you all play a game, and you run through your options: truth or dare, spin the bottle, a wizarding game you’ve never heard of, and hide and go seek. Hermione refutes hide and go seek on the basis of safety, and Fred refutes spin the bottle on the basis of the fact that four out of six of you are siblings. Not everyone brought their wands, so you can’t play the magic game, and you’re left with truth or dare as the apparent winner, which you were rooting for anyway, because you want to see what you can get the twins to do. It almost makes you wish Percy was here so you could put him in a compromising position, but knowing him, he’d find a way to make walking on hot coals boring. 

“I’ll start, I’ll start!” you volunteer, looking around the circle. “My first victim will beeeee…” you look at Hermione, who cringes nervously, then spin around to point at Harry. “Harry Potter. What will it be, Mr. Potter, truth or dare?” you ask.

Harry shrugs. “Hmm.. I’ll do.. Dare, why not?” he replies. 

“Alright Harry, I dare you tooooo.... Oh, easy. I dare you to smack Ron every time he says something you think is stupid tonight. And be honest, or we’ll smack you,” you say. The twins nod in agreement. 

“That’s not fair! That’s barely a real dare!” protests Ron. You raise an eyebrow at Harry, who turns and gives his friend a good wallop. 

“Alright Harry, your turn.” 

You play for nearly an hour, all the while passing the bottle lazily between you, until everyone’s good and tipsy on the strong liquor. Several good dares are exchanged: Fred is dared to give you a lap dance, which he does with gusto and an uncomfortable amount of eye contact. You dare Ginny to race you across the pond and back, and you both strip down to your skivvies and plunge into the chilly water. Ginny wins, of course, but you just wanted an excuse for a swim. Fred lends you his cloak, patting it onto your shoulders to dry them before you pull your pants back on. George dares Ron to walk back to the house and get food, which he reluctantly agrees to after everyone bullies him into it. By the time he gets back with a basket of pastries and jam, you’ve transitioned to mainly truths, because the well of dares has run dry. 

When it’s Hermione’s turn to ask Fred, she blushingly asks if he’s lost his virginity. 

“What, do you all think I’ve snogged every girl we know without scaring? Have a little faith, please.”

“Clever, but that’s not an answer!” slurs Hermione, pointing at him and grinning. “Have you actually had sex before, or do you just talk a big game?” 

“Well, have you?” you ask, laughing as he tries to bluster out an answer.

“”Course I have. Ask anybody. Everybody must think George and I are the male sluts of the century, the way you people talk.” 

“Still not an answer!” you say, looking at him mischievously. 

“How’s this for an answer, then?” he retorts, pulling you to his waist and kissing you on the lips melodramatically, throwing you up against the rock, practically fucking but for the clothes. What’s probably thirty seconds of kissing at most feels like an hour. Everyone goes “Oooooh!” and when he finally lets you go you’re flabbergasted, but you recover your senses.

“Point taken, then. Alright Freddie, your turn,” you say, straightening your clothes and trying not to look like you enjoyed that. 

“I dare Hermione to let us play hide and seek, for fuck’s sake,” he says, lazily.

“Ugh! I might be drunk but I’m not letting anyone stumble around alone in the pitch black plastered out of your mind. Ask me a real question!” 

“What if we weren’t alone?” Harry asks, looking around. “I mean, we could go in pairs or little groups. Like team hide and seek, basically.”

“I call Fred and George!” you cry, throwing your arms around their sweaty necks. 

“Fine, but please be careful. And everyone should be on a team with at least one person with a wand,” says Hermione, who teams up with Ron. That leaves Harry and Ginny on the last team.

George produces his wand and casts an illumination spell.

“Not it!” You shout, immediately echoed by Ginny. 

“Alright, we’ll count to 50” says Hermione, but Harry and George protest until they finally agree to 3 minutes.

Fred tears off into the woods and you and George follow, bushes thwacking you in the face, vines snagging at your ankles. You break through the brush into a field, panting, and stop for a break. 

“Where are we going?” you ask, looking around. “And where are we?” 

“No idea!” Fred says gleefully. 

“What about over there?” George nods towards a patch of grass and trees down in a glenn. You lope down hill through high grass and crash to a halt in the stand of trees, crouching low. Fred huddles next to you and George clambers clumsily into one of the trees, flattening himself into one of its crooks.

You can feel your stomach churning after your run, but you manage to successfully push down the acrid taste rising in your throat. Above you, you hear George belch, and just manage to slip out of the way as he spits a pitiful glob of vomit to the ground.

“Oi, we’re down here, you lout,” hisses Fred, ducking.

“Look at the state of you,” you drawl, bumping into Fred as you readjust around George’s vomit. He groans from his spot up in the tree and lies back down sleepily. To your surprise, you feel the urge to pull Fred closer rather than pushing him away. The earthy smell of the forest floor calms your stomach, and you find your mind wandering to his lips, his hands on your waist and neck. Buzzing with drunken impulsivity, you wrap your arms around his slender waist and pull him to sit beside you. He looks surprised, but readily slouches against the tree trunk next to you. You can feel his chest rising and falling with each breath. The air is still and cool in that settled way characteristic of the night.

Overhead, you think you can hear George beginning to snore. 

“Freddie-” you begin, but before you can say a word, his lips are on yours, his hands tangled in your hair. You push him down and roll over so that you’re straddling him, gripping his jaw in one hand as you kiss him, hard, then gently. His lips are softer and more relaxed than they were when he kissed you earlier, and his body less certain. There’s no false bravado in him now, and you bite his lip gently, your tongues barely batting together. You reach down to unzip his pants but he pulls back.

“Y/N- I- Look, I may have lied earlier,” he says, his face flush with desire and embarrassment. You look at him quizzically, your drunken mind not connecting all the dots. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I haven’t… done this before. I’ve only ever kissed. Although I’ve done quite a lot of that.” he says quietly. You blink.

“Oh. Oh! You total freak. Why go to all that trouble to convince everyone you have?”

“Have you considered that maybe I just wanted to kiss you?”

This shuts you up. He pulls you back down to kiss you again, this time on the cheek, on the forehead, the neck. 

“Don’t do anything you don’t want to do,” you say carefully, brushing a bead of sweat from his forehead. 

“No… no, I’m ready. I want this now,” he says, tugging at your shirt. You pull it off over your head and toss it into the grass, the game of hide and seek forgotten. Let the shirt be a warning flag to any nosy passerby. Fred kisses across your chest. 

“Freddie, we’re drunk,” you remind him, your breathing growing heavier as his tongue flicks across your nipple.

“I want you,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck in between kisses. “I want you, I want you, I want you,” he says. You kiss him in reply, and move again to unzip his pants. You feel his hard member ready to burst out of his jeans, and it sends a thrill through you.

You had considered that you might one day wind up with Fred or George, and honestly, you had figured it would be on some less-than-sober whim like this, but you never really pictured it. You certainly never imagined Fred like this, innocent and tame, hoping for someone else to take the lead.

“Will you show me how?”

“Yes,” you breathe your reply into his mouth.

“Will you go slow?” he asks sweetly, his coy submissiveness sending tremors through your body. 

“Yes. Come closer.”

In the morning, you groggily open your eyes at the sound of birds chirping. You sit up, your head throbbing, and look around. Above you and a few feet to your right, George is sleeping soundly on his belly in the flat convergence of an oak tree’s branches. To your left, shirtless and smeared with dirt, is Fred curled on top of his cloak, also fast asleep. 

“Guess they gave up on finding us,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair to smooth it into place. You remember what happened last night well enough, although some parts are cloudier than others, and you don’t remember deciding to fall asleep at all. You suppose it just happened at some point. Your heart beats faster, wondering if you and Fred will be an item after this, or if he’ll want to keep it quiet, or if you just won’t talk about it. You’re not sure what you want, yet. It’s still purple pre-dawn in the countryside, the sun not quite peeking over the horizon yet.

You know you enjoyed yourself, and you adore Fred- as a friend, certainly. As something more? Maybe. You brush away your anxieties and trust that you’ll settle things when you’re less groggy. Suddenly, it dawns on you that you’ve got to get back to the house before Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wake up and notice your absence. You stand up as though the ground caught fire, kicking at Fred and shouting at George to get down.

You fetch your shirt from a nearby bush, and pluck a twig from Fred’s hair as he looks up, dazed.

“God, my head,” he says, squinting up at you. “What the hell time is it?”

“Never mind that, you’ll have worse than a headache if we don’t get back to the house by like, yesterday.”

“Merlin!” George exclaims, perking up and basically falling from his perch to the ground. Recovering he stands up, taking his surroundings in. “Hold on, what the hell happened to you, Fred? Where’s your shirt?”

“No time for all that, go!” you say, shoving George in the direction you suppose the house is in. You muster as fast a pace as you can and follow him, Fred scrambling to gather his cloak and tee shirt before catching up with you. With George’s back to both of you, you exchange a goofy grin and a wave of relief runs through you. He obviously doesn’t consider last night a mistake, either. You slip your hand into his and make your way into the breaking dawn.

[secretsniper2]

Just a “Touch up”

You always wanted to do something outlandish, all the other girls had gotten something done and bragged about it non stop, it was driving you crazy! So you decided to get something done yourself, nothing major, just a touch up. So now you sit in the doctors office talking with the man who would be operating on you, you explain that your only looking for a light touch up to your face so your friends will notice instantly. The doctor explained that at 19 years of age “there wouldn't really be much they could do” but you were adamant that you get it done. Date set for 2 weeks away you cant wait!

Time flew past with more of the same, your friends bragging and you roll your eyes every time, your certain they will envy your face when your job is done. The date finally arrives and you head to the clinic to get started. Sitting in the waiting room your not alone, there is a creepy guy with a green hat, sitting in the corner, every time you look over at him he is staring at you. “can i help you?” you ask and he stands and walks to the counter, asks for something and is given a grey folder and a pen, taking both to his seat he begins to fill out a form. “bit late to fill that out” you think to yourself, oh well. A Nurse walks into the waiting room with a piece of paper, “Layla!” she calls and you stand and follow her into the room.

Walking through the single door you notice the main table in the middle of the room, and a few covered tables to the side, at the other end of the room is a wide double door your unsure why they need 2 doors for 1 side and a single door on this side.. “ehhh” you think to yourself as the Nurse gives you your gown to change into and as your the only 2 in here you strip down and put your light blue hospital gown on. it barely goes past your pussy! Tying it on securely your just in time for the surgeon to walk in with 2 folders, 1 blue and the other grey like the man in the waiting room. Flicking through both folders he leads you to the table to begin your surgery.

Laying down on the table it feels weird, like the table itself can be pulled apart due to how it shifts beneath you, its certainly not all in 1 piece. The surgeon begins drawing lines on your face where he will be doing his work, as you had discussed. Looking up to the ceiling you see a camera pointed right at you, clearly for medical reasons you feel more lines get drawn on you.  Taking a needle from a shelf he explains “this shot will feel weird and you may get confused, its to ensure you don't feel pain”. Holding out your arm your given the shot, it feels warm as you lower your arm back onto the table, the warmth spreading through your body, its pleasant at least, the warmth flowing up to your head and your hit with the confusion he mentioned. If you were standing you would fall over instantly, but your laying down so your head just rolls to a side, completely relaxed. As the warmth continues to roll down your body it hits your tight pussy and you start to feel a little aroused, at least your legs are closed but with this gowns length its only a matter of time before your lips start showing your arousal.

Continuing down your legs your toes go numb as the warmth hits them, it tickled at first but now you notice you cant move your arms either, you begin to breathe faster as you learn just how little you can move, its just your head! everything under your neck is completely still. Acting as if nothing is wrong the surgeon walks up and puts a headpiece on your face, bit weird as that's where your getting work done, and all you can see is darkness, nothing else. your body tingling all over from the shot earlier and with your vision limited your sense of touch has increased, your now acutely aware of the hairs on your arms standing up, it is cold in here though but your beginning to panic a little.

A sudden burst of light floods your eyes and after a few blinks you see yourself, from the camera hanging over your body, you see everything, almost the whole room! Worse still you see what the lines on your forehead are, he wasn't tracing out lines, he was writing “Fuckslut” on your forehead! examining your body from this perspective you can see your bald pussy peeking out of the gown, raising your arm for the shot must have pulled the gown up! your pussy is exposed! you can see the glistening from your arousal which has only gotten worse since it started, a hand reaches out and grabs your thigh. the surgeons unwanted touching makes you sick, but your pussy just cries out for more touches and you hate that your body is reacting positively.

Walking up beside your body he reaches out and grabs your breast “what the fuck” you think angrily! who does this guy think he is?! as he squeezes your perky C cup breast, moving to the other and repeating after a minute, leaving both your breasts a little sore but your nipples have reacted to the abuse and you can already see them poking against the gown. your head flooding with shame as you see them get harder and harder as his hand snakes its way up to your smooth neck and holds your throat. caressing your skin he loops his hand under the neck of the gown and to your horror, pulls hard and you feel the tight knots you did earlier come undone as the gown soars off your now completely naked body!

You cant believe what your seeing, your 19 year old body laying flat on the table with nothing covering you, your nipples reacting even more as they get even harder than they were seconds before, and your pussy is drooling with need, your humiliation has only begun and you know it. Watching in horror as the hand moves from your neck, sliding down your smooth skin to once again grasp your breast, your nipple being pinched hard this time, you hear him say “this size wont do, ill have to fill them out a bit” and worse still, you hear another unseen man say “you have the chart, make it happen” your eyes scanning the room as much as you can see, but you cant find the source of the second voice! Movement draws your eyes back to the hand as it slides easily over your smooth, flawless skin and glides over your pussy and fingers dip between your lips. Fluid now flowing out as he probes your most private area with his fingers, expertly drawing more and more fluid from you, clearly knowing what he is doing as he brushes across your clit forcing sharp sensations to stab your mind.

Pulling your legs open you see a separation in the table and sure enough the surgeon separates them, putting a brace on the inside section he opens them wider, catching your ankles in the process, and as the table continues to widen, so do your legs. Pussy now completely accessible now to even the most aimless of people, the surgeon brings a covered cart over to you and upon removing the cloth your witness to needles and a scalpel among other tools. Your terror reaching new heights as a needle is taken, full of a pink liquid it is moved straight for your clit, eyes almost bulging out of your head as the tip sinks into your precious bulb, but no pain, at least he was honest about that. Pushing the tip in further you see him injecting the fluid inside your clit and it actually begins to bulge, blood flooding to your nub forcing it to grow out, pushing its hood aside it now sitting out, you cant stop looking at it, its 3 times bigger than what it was!

A flash of steel and your eyes dart to the cause, the surgeon holding the scalpel now moves in on your engorged clit, slicing from the base and moving to the tip you see blood and you have no idea what he is doing to you.. placing a cup over your clit you see him attach a pump to the end, its a suction cup! you feel him pumping away your sensitive clit moving further away from your body, so sensitive the pumping continues will its 8cm out of your hood, then its bandaged to keep it out and exposed, “if she messes up you can grab her by her clit now and lead her anywhere you want” you look at your once adorable clit, you think “i could give my clit a fucking handjob now!” and its almost big enough too. pumped full of blood the sensitivity is through the roof, and because of the fluid he injected your clit with its completely rigid and standing straight out, not bending at all..

Taking 2 more needles from the cart he aims them for your exposed labia, penetrating them your injected with a blue liquid this time, and you feel a instant burning in your pussy as he injects you multiple times around your pussy and even your inner lips get 4 injections. Heat burning away as your arousal forced your pussy to clench and fresh juice squirts out, not a orgasm but it may as well have been, your so desperately horny now and there's nothing you can do! Watching in terror as he gets more needles and walks over to your breasts, 1 needle in the tip of your nipple and the orange fluid is injected followed by the burning sensation in your breasts, “experimental drugs are illegal but im sure you dont mind right” “not at all” the 2 men agree. both your breasts are burning from the inside as you feel them growing! you can almost see it happening right in front of your eyes, your C’s are growing to D’s!

Whatever the injections were they work fast and your not liking this at all! Taking a device from the table your pussy is opened up as he looks inside. “not a virgin” your surgeon says then a very long needle is inserted in your pussy. reaching far inside he hits the entrance to your womb and injects another drug, “what's going to happen to my poor womb?!” you think “there we go” he says, “she should be hypersensitive to touch now” not waiting for a invitation he touches your clit and you orgasm on the spot, from a simple touch! “now for her ass!” you hear him say as you come back down from the orgasm, a brown liquid filled needle is jabbed into your asshole and your filled once again with a burning sensation, likely being made hypersensitive like the rest of you. Looking to your breasts for a moment your stunned at the DD set your now carrying! your breasts are huge!

“Care to sample the goods?” your asshole of a surgeon says and you see him, a green hat moves into your sight, its that guy from the waiting room! You watch as he pulls his cock out and stands between your open legs and pushes into your soaked pussy! forcing 3 orgasms simultaneously from you as he thrusts in, pushing straight into your womb pulling a further 5 orgasms out of you! your mind is going numb already! you have never cum so many times so fast! your sure no woman has in history and yet here you are, a slave to the orgasmic hell these men have forced on you.. The man in the hat pulls out to your entrance again and thrusts once again straight to your womb, so many orgasms you only thought it “kill meee..” as even your voice in your head trails off in the pleasure. As he slams his length into you your clit gets rammed hard by his body and your rewarded with another 6 orgasms! “its not possiblee-ohmyfuckinggod!” you think as your mind melts through your gushing pussy!

After what seemed like a eternity of orgasmic hell, having well over 50 orgasms the man in the hat moves to your chest, hopping on you he slides his cock in between your DD breasts and begins thrusting hard, you have given a titjob before but it never feels this good! your already cumming just from having him fuck your tits! and he clearly enjoys his time as you feel a splash on your face and mouth as he cums on you. “can we make that more fun for the slave too?” he says, your mind stopping at the word “slave” what did he mean by that? your name is Layla for gods sake! you came in here for a touch up and your being transformed into a cum crazy slave?! you watch as a clear liquid filled needle is brought over to your face, your mouth is opened with no resistance, and your tongue is jabbed and filled with the fluid. “this will ensure the she enjoys giving you head as much as you enjoy receiving it” he said with a laugh!

Your mouth burning as the surgeon returns you your pussy and grabs your clit hard and begins playing with it, forcing you to cum instantly with each stroke, having a further 12 orgasms pulled from you in seconds and he is still going! your eyes roll back into your head as you cum wildly! your mouth still open from the injection some of the mans cum drips into your now open mouth and lands on your tongue, you never did like the taste of cum but this was different.. though you cant move it the cum just slides over your sensitive tongue and you can taste it, somehow you love it! it tastes amazing!, hearing something click your head drops backwards as your eyes look down at your body through the camera once more, the green hat man is lining up your throat for some fucking. Nothing you can do but watch this man fuck your throat, as his cock enters your mouth it pushes your tongue to the floor of your mouth, and you can taste his cock in detail. “s-so tasty!!” your mind screams as he begins pumping down your throat!

“i think were almost done here!” the surgeon says loudly and you hear a grunt of agreement from the man as you feel his hot load pump into your throat as he pulls out, raising your head back up and locking the table back in position, the surgeon stops pulling orgasms from you as he releases your hypersensitive and overstimulated clit, you couldn't count how many times you came if you wanted to.. Watching as the man in the green hat beings a bag over, he pulls some small devices out and places them beside you, “how long will she be paralyzed?” he asks as he does, “5 hours at least.” the surgeon replies, “5 hours of immobile hell?! fuck!” you think. Watching as the man places 2 devices on either side of your nipples and tapes them there you recognise them as vibrators.. “the sick fuck is going to keep making me cum?” you scream mentally.. a thick dildo is placed between your tits and turned on, it feels amazing already!

Watching in fear as a series of vibrators are stuck to your solid clit, covering it completely. A long dildo is pushed right into your pussy and into your womb, pulling more orgasms from you, and finally a scary long dildo is pushed inside your virgin ass, the sensation is incredible for your first time, you can feel it as it moves further and deeper inside you. a foot of rubber cock now fills your tight ass! you can see your pussy gaping open as the dildo doesn't even stick out a little, the man pulls a pair of panties from the bag. black and shiny you realize its a latex lined chastity belt. pushing your clit through the large hole in the front, the panties push completely against you, orgasming immediately as the latex hits your pussy, form fitting almost as it hugs your hips perfectly, metal on the outside you see him lock them on and lower a weird ring around the base of your clit and snapping it shut locking your clit in the belt. At the push of a button your whole body cums instantly as every vibrator activates at seemingly max power!

8, 20, 36, 53.. orgasms every few seconds as your clit visibly shakes as each vibration quakes your mind and body, your pussy and ass vibrating furiously as the tip of the cock in your womb wrenches more orgasms out of you. in the first 10 seconds you have already lost count of not only how many times you came, but also where you are! “my name……. is.. Laylaaaaaaahhhhhhh” your mind dribbles out, “fuuuck-ohmygodnooo!!” you would be screaming if you could. Your mask is removed and your eyes dart around looking at the man in the face clearly. you burn his face into your mind as the man who stole your life, but with his large beard you cant make out much! “FUCK! im cuuuuuuhhh..“ your mind trails off. countless orgasms pulled out of your body as the wheels on your table are unlocked and you learn why there are 2 doors on 1 side of the room, its to fit the table.. wheeled through the doors you see a carpark, and your new ride.. a car boot. Your body is folded up with the surgeons help and your bound into a doll almost, still cumming furiously as your placed in the boot of this mans car and locked inside.

Its dark inside, your body still cumming and you cant move even if you wanted to.. a life of sexual slavery at the hands of this man.. You wanted a Touch up, and now this man is going to touch you up any time he wants..

[dappercritter]

Random She-Ra Season 5 Thoughts: THE FINAL RAMBLING

Yep. I finally got all my crazy absurd thoughts about this gay adventure-romance-drama cartoon summarized into one incoherent yet fun to read computer document/article! ...four months after the show itself ended. Oh well, no one’s perfect. Anyways, there are a whole lot more insane observations than ever before, so I had to put it below a link so this thing didn’t back up my blog or any of yours. Hope you enjoy reading through these as much I enjoyed spouting them for no discernible reason other than I felt like it!

-I feel that since is the last season, I ought to talk about an important part of the show that I’ve been putting off: the animation. It’s… okay. It’s definitely smoother than what the original 80’s show and it’s brother series (heheh) looked like, but at the same time it still seems to suffer from similar limitations which causes some distracting moments of stiffness. But other than that, it’s pretty good. It’s no Titmouse or Studio Mir but it looks good and it gets the job done.

         -After all, let’s not forget: “Imperfection is beautiful!”

-Even when things are at their lowest, Adora is a jock with a heart of gold.

-Horde Prime and the Galactic Horde’s aesthetic feels like a mixture of Catholicism, Scientology, Heaven’s Gate, and modern Microsoft, and honestly, that just makes him creepier.

-Speaking of Horde Prime, he didn’t waste any time with destroying Bright Moon. …apparently.

-Furthermore, on the topic of his giant holographic messages, WAS THAT A FREAKING MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE MOVIE REFERENCE?!

-Boy, Glimmer and Catra sure got along quickly! It’s almost like they magically understand each other because they both assumed leadership roles and screwed up big time! …I guess.

         -Either that or this season is going to be a speedrun.

-Wow, the Rebellion sure got used to having a once-thought-dead king as well as a known enemy general/abuser running around their camp awful fast, didn’t they?

-Mara’s got a spaceship, a cyber girlfriend, a magic grandma, a dragon, a tragic backstory, AND a force ghost?! Dang, even in death, the girl’s got it all. No wonder everyone likes her!

-(*me looking at the TV rating at the start of episode*) “Why is language in there? Is there surprise cuss words or something in this season?” (*sees Horde Prime seize control of a clone for the first time*) “HOLY FREAKING SH—oh that’s why.”

-Applause to the crew for making the “dinner with Prime” scene for making a meal between a sparkly princess, a catgirl, and alien cult leader feel even more uncomfortable than it had a right to.

-(*me throughout the season whenever a clone was onscreen*) Is that Hordak? Is that him? Is that him? Is that him right there? Oh it is—oh no wait. … Is that h—

-Extra applause for having Glimmer learn from her grey-area wetwipe phase and refusing to sell out her friends again whilst telling the imperialist cult leader where to stick it.

-I would pay a sizeable portion of my life savings to hear what a Scorpia and Swift Wind duet would sound like.

         -In fact, I’d double it if it was just Scorpia singing.

         -Ah what the heck. I would triple it for an entire She-Ra musical!

-As happy as I am to see to see Entrapta interacting with the other princesses again, I have to say that their big reunion left me with some mixed feelings. Here’s a quick rundown:

         -Entrapta, a grown autistic woman, being led around on a leash by non-neurodivergent teenagers—again: that’s bad.

         -The Princesses confronting Entrapta about joining the Horde: that’s good!

         -The Princesses blaming all their problems with the Horde bots on Entrapta’s actions and her hyper fixations alone: that’s bad.

         -Entrapta explaining herself, admitting that she regrets her mistakes, and getting the Princesses to understand that she thinks and communicates differently, but in spite of that, she really does want help find Glimmer: that’s good!

         -Entrapta never gets to call out the Princesses for how poorly they treated her: that’s bad.

         -Entrapta saves the day and goes to space: that’s good!

         -Scorpia and Entrapta still haven’t interacted even though the former is with the Rebellion in the first place because she went to look for her because she is her best friend: …can I go home now?

-How nice! Michah finally got to shapeshift!

         -And he’s rocking that She-Ra outfit to boot!

-So is Darla a back up of Light Hope or do they just run on the same operating system and have the same voice?

-I could watch an entire season of Adora, Bow, and Entrapta going on space adventure in a rundown ship with their custom-made spacesuits, tbh.

-Is anyone else weirded out that Catra’s younger self looked at her in her flashback(?).

         -Actually what WAS happening there, anyhow?

-(*watching Bow’s spacewalk to save Glimmer*) “Is that a Gravity reference?” asked the man who never saw Gravity.

-Speaking of spacewalks, how did Glimmer survive those precious few seconds in space? Does the teleporter teleport a breathable atmosphere too?

         -Also, Catra, WHY did you think it would be a good idea to teleport Glimmer into space? I know you had a plan and the ship was right there but… Ah, never mind.

-Not that I’m complaining but Glimmer’s apology to the rest of the friend squad for her HORRIBLE plan last season went… surprisingly quickly.

-You know as cool as The Star Siblings are, being a quirky band of space-travelling siblings with cool powers and some trans rep to boot, I only have one small problem with them: weren’t there already Star Sisters on Etheria back in season 1?

         -That doesn’t sound right, but I don’t know enough about Masters of the Universe characters to dispute it.

-Entrapta confirmed pan, objectum, AND horny on main. Dang girl, you’re gonna have fun whether you got Hordak back or not…

-“The Velvet Glove” is both a menacing and stupid name for a decadent overlord’s mothership.

         -Wait, it’s from the 80’s canon? Oh. That kind of explains it, actually.

-Goshdangit, I wanted Catra to face punishment for her crimes, but I didn’t think that would involve going to evil alien conversion therapy!

         -Nor did I want her to die! For a second. Actually, since it obviously wasn’t going to last I was… weirdly okay with that part???

-Horde Prime seems awfully okay with Catradora. I mean he’s still super creepy and manipulative about it, but also oddly progressive for an evil brainwashing cult leader.

-(*Adora transforms into a She-Ra through seer will*) First of all, called it. Second of all, WOAH MAMA now that’s a glow up!

-Wrong Hordak did not have to be a thing, and yet, I’m glad that he is.

-Hordak remembers the LUVD crystal and Entrapta… Hordak remembers Entrap—! It’s happening! Oh my gosh, it’s happening! Everybody stay calm!

-Wow, Entrapta didn’t have to be so forgiving of Catra for everything she’s done to her but she did. Only I’m not sure if that was Entrapta taking the high road or the low road.

         -Or which road the crew took for that matter.

-I remember when I thought those “Chipped AUs” floating around here on tumblr were just something the fans came up with and that chipping people was not an actual despicable thing Prime does in canon. I miss those days.

-I know it’s not the same as before or the original design, but True She-Ra’s designs and powers? I think they slappin’.

-Hooray, Adora and Catra are finally making up! And it only took four and half seasons worth of communication failures, toxic villainous behaviour, and physical violence for Catra to snap out of it!

         -…We can go back to Entrapdak now, right?

-Poor Elberon. First they unknowingly adopt a double agent then get invaded by the Horde and now they’re getting brainwashed and chipped by the Galactic Horde. They might be a cute village, but they got some pretty lousy security.

-You know it’s cute that Micah is doing his best to be friends with Frosta and get back in touch with his dad-side, but look I can’t be the only one worried about how the local King is a less proactive leader than the princesses or the known war criminal/abuser, right?

-“The Perils of Peekablue” or as I like to call it, “You Thought ‘Boys Night Out’ Caught You Emotionally Off-guard? Hah! Watch This.”

-You know I didn’t think Scorpfuma would be a thing aside that one moment of flirting near the end of season 4, but they really pushed for it to be a thing! This is… actually pretty great! Perfuma’s not perfect, and I would have appreciated giving them a little more time to bond and form some real chemistry, but at least she reciprocates Scorpia’s sweetness instead of rebuffing it in increasingly aggressive fashion.

-I’m not sure what’s more concerning: that Mermista set a boat on fire, that it’s worded like she had a fling as part of some experimental phase, or that Sea Hawk is turned on by this.

-Peekablue might not be real, (I think?) but he is one dapper dude! Female-to-male redesigns could learn a thing or two from him.

-It involved them getting stung and seizuring, but that was a heck of a way to reintroduce Double Trouble! I swear I got watching them cycle through their transformations in some sort of physical reaction.

         -Or maybe that was just me worrying about their wellbeing…

-Okay, I get the Chips are huge, and actually rather clever threat, but how do these characters get chipped in the first place? I get there are chipped people who spread the chips throught the population but where do they get those from???

         -Do one of those Horde Prime drones just sneak behind someone, slap a chip on their nape then hand them a whole bagfull and say, “Beep boop beep, Horde Prime’s Light, blah blah blah. Alright have fun, kiddo”?

         -Or is it some sort of Alien: Covenant deal where they’re just floating around and Lord help you if one sticks to you?

-HOLY CRAP THEY ACTUALLY GOT SCORPIA TO SING! AND SHE WAS GREAT!

         -Oh shoot. Guess I owe the crew twice my life savings now…

-Entrapdak might be what got me into this show, but it’s Double Trouble that kept me around, so you can imagine how happy I was to see them make their grand reappearance!

-Conversly, you can imagine my disappointment when they just disappeared until the finale.

         -And on that note: HOW DID YOU GUYS LOSE DOUBLE TROUBLE?!

                  -You forgot to cherish them, didn’t you?

-So, Scorpia sacrifices herself just after finding a new girlfriend and gaining some newfound confidence, Mermista and Sea Hawk are split up,and Double Trouble didn’t join the main cast. Why can’t you just have fun like a normal cartoon, show?

-Gosh, I love me some shifting title cards!

-Is it just me or did they sneak in some more Annihilation references on Krytis?

         (-Said the guy who was too chicken to watch the movie and just read about it and watched a few clips online.)

-(*audibly sighs*) FINE. I guess I like Catradora now. Are you happy now, SPOP Crew? ARE YOU?!

-Hooray, Catra’s got a emotional support animal! And they’re a shapeshifting magic alien cat. Those are the best kind!

-Is it weird that I knew that weird glowing stuff on Krytis was just magic all along, or was it just not hidden very well. Anyways, I like Krytis. I like that we got to see a truly alien world with its own form of magic.

-Plus, we got a logical advancement of the magic versus science subtheme with magic being Horde Prime’s weakness! Neato!

-Getting back on the “which is worse?” wagon for a second, I don’t know what feels less right: that Wrong Hordak’s big revelation and his resolution to free himself and his brothers and friends from Horde Prime’s control is played humorously, or that Real Hordak should be the one having this moment.

-That bit with Castaspella and Shadow Weaver where she tells Casta about Etheria being a living thing with inherent magical property, or whatever, while we got a peaceful shot of some boar creatures sleeping was actually kind of nice. It would have been nicer though if it wasn’t part of a power hungry abuser’s obvious scheme. If only there was a kindly old witch lady character who was in touch with nature and knew just what to say when someone was feeling downOH WAIT.

-Furthermore… Why did Shadow Weaver and Castaspella need to have romantic tension?

-Seriously though, where’s our Madame Razz quota this season? Where’s my supportive magic grandma timelord at, yo?

-Yup, they speedran this season.

-I’m actually really disappointed we didn’t see more of an intergalactic new rebellion rising up to fight Horde Prime’s forces across the universe. Especially if it meant we got to see more Star Sibling action!

-Again, I adore Wrong Hordak but I keep wondering what was keeping the crew from just bringing in Original Flavour Hordak. (You know, aside from teasing us Entrapdak fans and trying to distract us with a loveable new character in the meantime.) I mean he could have done the whole infiltrating the clone squads and tricking them bit, too.

         -Heck, he could have done the wink, too!

-I’d gleefully point out Loo-Kee’s cameo this season but apparently, they already made some several seasons ago. That’s what I get for not rewatching the 80’s show and training my eyes first.

-(*sees Erelandians*) Are those freaking Toads and Toadettes?

-So, what’s keeping them from just hitting Spinerella’s chip again? Besides emotional baggage and gale force winds, I mean.

-Perfuma coming out of a cave scared out of her wits, demanding to know who’s there, clinging to her friends as soon as they come back, and balling her eyes out is a big, BIG mood.

-Frosta absolutely decking Catra in the face was nestled somewhere between cathartic and excessive.

         -Netossa spraying her with a bottle of water on the other hand…

-Oh, so Greyskull was the name of a Rebel Squad! I think. Meh, the important thing is we got an explanation and it still sounds cool.

-Leave it to a couple of dads to make a secret message out of a dad joke.

-You know I made fun of Light Hope for being creepy, but I swear that avatar from the Spire is even creepier. I don’t know if it’s her face—those dang blank eyes, man—or just that it she’s less animated than the real thing, but it just felt… off.

-Aww, Noelle made Netossa’s princess weakness illustrations! So cute!

-Forget episodes that deserves Emmys, Keston John deserves one for voicing Hordak, Horde Prime, all the clones, and several minor villains and giving each and every single one a distinct voice! Where my king’s respect, eh?

-Yes, Catra you had a small disagreement with Hordak. …Over sending his girlfriend and your “friend” to DIE IN A LITERAL LIVING HELL.

         -Sorry, I just had to get that out of my system.

-Why does Perfuma get pressured to get angry and go wild when Entrapta’s the one who’s had it the worst out of all them? Why can’t my gamer girl go berserk, dammit!?

-Okay, but really, how do these fricking chips work??? Are they parasite devices who store Horde Prime’s Baptizing Dew then slowly pump it into their host’s bodies? Do they have their own nervous systems? Are they technorganic? Also, how and why do we need to make these chips are bigger threat then they need to be?

-Horde Prime showing up on Hordak’s throne in grand Killing Joke style and casually throwing shades at his brother’s overblown attempts to impress him is pretty awesome, but it feels strangely underdeveloped. Hordak’s not there to have his hard work insulted and we never got to see Adora have any similar encounter with Hordak here before, so unless you look at it from the perspective of someone who has been here before in the Horde story like Catra it lacks the dramatic weight it should have had.

-Scorpia resisting the chip to save her new friends was pretty great, though.

-I swear, when they got to the scene where Adora and the others figured out that Shadow Weaver was grooming her so she could use her to get to the Heart of Etheria, I was mouthing “You B***H” through the whole thing.

-They really brought back Etherian deep magic just so they had something to make Micah threatening. …okay.

-Okay, the rest of “Failsafe” messed me up, so here’s a rundown on all the other messy thoughts I had while the show ripped my heart and ground it to dog food:

         -Entrapta and Hordak reuniting: Yay!

         -Swift Wind yanking her away before she can get through to him: Boo.

         -Catra encouraging Adora to try and take care of herself for a change: Yay!

         -Adora hurts Catra and she runs away: Boo.

         -Adora finally calling out Shadow Weaver on what an utterly horrible person she is: Yay!

         -Adora resolves to risk sacrificing herself to save the world: Bo—okay, seriously, was all this suffering really necessary, show?

-I know I mentioned in my previous She-Ra random thoughts that I supported Glimmadora, but I am okay with Catradora and Glimbow ending up canon. The only problem I have is how rushed they feel—moreso with Glimbow. With Catradora, the crew had an entire season to make it work again and they took it. Glimbow it feels like they were down to the last few episodes and went, “Oh right, we were gonna do something with these two!” then did their darndest to fit in some chemistry in between all the other stuff going down.

-As ominous as it was, the music where Horde Prime starts hacking Etheria honestly SLAPS.

-Okay, I know everyone is magic or something, but I am legit surprised getting electrocuted in water didn’t kill the heroes right then and there.

-Sea Hawk tries to flirt with his girl even as she’s trying to kill him. Truly, he is a man of taste.

-What do you know, Shadow Weaver can only do good when she’s (canonically!) punch drunk.

-You know a whole lot of this could have been avoided if Holo-Mara was Adora’s mentor instead of Light Hope.

-When I think about it, it was actually really clever to make Horde Prime the final villain for Adora to face: a domineering decadent man who’s been in power forever against a humble emotionally vulnerable compassionate young woman.

         -Not to mention the divide between cult-like oppression and progressive freedom. Or something.

-Holy crap, did the First Ones get a great freaking a Great Old One for a guard dog?!

-So, you guys seriously didn’t bring Angella back to reunite with her family OR mention her all season after the impact her death had on everyone all last season until Glimmer needs a power-up at the last possible minute and then you never bring her up again. That is absolutely a dick move in bird culture.

-Entrapta’s hacker sticker gives me life. Gamer girl gremlin princess forever!

-On the one hand, I’m disappointed that Adora and Catra don’t get to have an awesome couple battle against the security monster and win. On the other hand, Shadow Weaver is finally dead. YAY!

         -With apologies to the writers and especially Lorraine Toussaint. She did splendidly bringing this character to life and even if I hated Shadow Weaver, I adored the effort she put into making her one of the most emotionally complex villains I’ve ever seen.

-Words cannot, will not, and will never describe the pure joy that I experienced when I first saw Hordak’s big scene: standing up to and disowning his tyrant brother, saving Entrapta, declaring his love to her (albeit in a nicely lowkey fashion), and then throwing Horde Prime to his apparent doom Disney style with Entrapta cheering him with sheer glee. GOSH, it was everything I could have hoped for from this season!

         -Now if only they kept the deleted scene where they got a moment to themselves before Prime body-jacked him again like the creepy sonuvabich he is.

-Horde Prime just wouldn’t be a religious villain if he didn’t tell everyone to burn.

         -Bonus points for actually trying to burn the frigging planet.

-Aside from the idea of Adora switching to wearing a She-Ra themed dress everywhere in the future, the future vision was really quite sweet, and seeing Prime step in to ruin it made it all the more impactful.

-Can I just say that it’s absolutely wonderful that the show, for all it’s flaws, said  “**** senseless heroic sacrifices”?

-BREAKING: Lesbian cat finally makes up with her jock ex, has a canon kiss so pure it saves the world!

         -In other news, Catradora fans are still spoiled rotten.

-Wow, look at all those character comebacks they skipped through! Look, there’s the chefs from Dryl, Double Trouble, Huntara, the Horde Trio, Imp, Madame Razz—are you kidding me?!

-Grumbling aside, I actually find the idea of the Horde Trio and Imp getting involved in a G-rated science-fantasy version of the first Hangover movie quite amusing.

-Oh dang, they pulled a Castle in the Sky with the Velvet Glove!

-As nice as it was to see Aodra save Hordak from Horde Prime and destroy the latter through exorcism via sheer compassion, I’m rather disappointed we never got to see She-Ra go full Metal Gear Solid Rising: Revengence on any creepy old cult leaders.

         -Yeah, it would have gone against the “love conquers all” set up, but love takes on many forms, does it not? So, why can it not manifest as cleaving your mortal enemies with extreme prejudice to save your loved ones?

-Furthermore, in addition to Holo-Mara being a better mentor, Hordak raising Adora instead Shadow Weaver could have prevented a lot of similar problems. Maybe. Possibly.

         -Eh whatever, he has a lifetime’s worth of fanfiction to make up for it.

-ENTRAPDAK IS CANON, ALL IS RIGHT WITH THE WORLD.

-And so is Catradora and Glimbow! That’s nice, too.

-Aww, how sweet of them to skip through Catra and Scorpia, and Glimmer and Micah’s big reunions! It’s not like we’ve been waiting forever for this stuff or anything. HahahahAHAHAHDHAHAHFHAFHKSADJHFKAJHDfine.

-And so it all ends with everyone either friends, in love, or both, as heroes decide to make up for it all with a grandiose sequel promising more exciting space adventures we probably won’t see! HOORAY!

-All snarky ranting aside, I actually really enjoyed the finale. It was exciting, heartwarming, and above all it ended on happy, hopeful note without leaving too many frustrating questions unanswered. (*glares with utmost contempt at Voltron and Star vs. The Forces of Evil*)

-You know, this wasn’t bad for a final season, but I think this might have worked better as two seasons. Not in Netflix’s cheap “split a regular 13-episode season in two 6-7 episode long seasons” strategy, but I mean two full seasons with their own storylines leading up to the grand finale:

         -First, one that starts out with Horde Prime’s arrival the downfall of Etheria, focuses on the space adventures, ends with their return to Etheria and gives the characters time to recuperate from season 4.

         -Then, we have one final season that focuses on the Best Friend Squad’s Return to Etheria, Horde Prime’s plan, gives everyone more time to properly reconcile before ¾ of the entire cast gets chipped, sets up a new Rebellion made up of Princess Alliance and former Etherian Horde members, maybe even set up a proper Hordak redemption arc or something, and then our big happy ending.

-On a mostly unrelated note, I also feel that the whole show could have turned out even better if it had been either a dedicated science-fantasy war drama with some levity (like the good Star Wars shows or Avatar: The Last Airbender) or a lighthearted yet empowering slice-of-life action-adventure romcom (i.e. basically a well-made remake of the original show in the style of Adventure Time and Parks and Rec or something).

-My final random thought for this whole thing: we really could have used a triumphant end credits song or something. Aside from obviously recommending Fabulous Secret Powers, I would have also recommended the original 4 Non Blondes “What’s Going On,” a reprise of “Warriors,” Gorillaz’s “We Got the Power,” or (my favourite) Talking Head’s “(Nothing But) Flowers” since the ending scenes remind me of it.

Thanks again to the crew for giving me something to live for and/or complain about!

Now, let’s hope the He-Man reboots do as well...

[secretsniper3]

Just a “Touch up”

You always wanted to do something outlandish, all the other girls had gotten something done and bragged about it non stop, it was driving you crazy! So you decided to get something done yourself, nothing major, just a touch up. So now you sit in the doctors office talking with the man who would be operating on you, you explain that your only looking for a light touch up to your face so your friends will notice instantly. The doctor explained that at 19 years of age “there wouldn't really be much they could do” but you were adamant that you get it done. Date set for 2 weeks away you cant wait!

Time flew past with more of the same, your friends bragging and you roll your eyes every time, your certain they will envy your face when your job is done. The date finally arrives and you head to the clinic to get started. Sitting in the waiting room your not alone, there is a creepy guy with a green hat, sitting in the corner, every time you look over at him he is staring at you. “can i help you?” you ask and he stands and walks to the counter, asks for something and is given a grey folder and a pen, taking both to his seat he begins to fill out a form. “bit late to fill that out” you think to yourself, oh well. A Nurse walks into the waiting room with a piece of paper, “Layla!” she calls and you stand and follow her into the room.

Walking through the single door you notice the main table in the middle of the room, and a few covered tables to the side, at the other end of the room is a wide double door your unsure why they need 2 doors for 1 side and a single door on this side.. “ehhh” you think to yourself as the Nurse gives you your gown to change into and as your the only 2 in here you strip down and put your light blue hospital gown on. it barely goes past your pussy! Tying it on securely your just in time for the surgeon to walk in with 2 folders, 1 blue and the other grey like the man in the waiting room. Flicking through both folders he leads you to the table to begin your surgery.

Laying down on the table it feels weird, like the table itself can be pulled apart due to how it shifts beneath you, its certainly not all in 1 piece. The surgeon begins drawing lines on your face where he will be doing his work, as you had discussed. Looking up to the ceiling you see a camera pointed right at you, clearly for medical reasons you feel more lines get drawn on you.  Taking a needle from a shelf he explains “this shot will feel weird and you may get confused, its to ensure you don't feel pain”. Holding out your arm your given the shot, it feels warm as you lower your arm back onto the table, the warmth spreading through your body, its pleasant at least, the warmth flowing up to your head and your hit with the confusion he mentioned. If you were standing you would fall over instantly, but your laying down so your head just rolls to a side, completely relaxed. As the warmth continues to roll down your body it hits your tight pussy and you start to feel a little aroused, at least your legs are closed but with this gowns length its only a matter of time before your lips start showing your arousal.

Continuing down your legs your toes go numb as the warmth hits them, it tickled at first but now you notice you cant move your arms either, you begin to breathe faster as you learn just how little you can move, its just your head! everything under your neck is completely still. Acting as if nothing is wrong the surgeon walks up and puts a headpiece on your face, bit weird as that's where your getting work done, and all you can see is darkness, nothing else. your body tingling all over from the shot earlier and with your vision limited your sense of touch has increased, your now acutely aware of the hairs on your arms standing up, it is cold in here though but your beginning to panic a little.

A sudden burst of light floods your eyes and after a few blinks you see yourself, from the camera hanging over your body, you see everything, almost the whole room! Worse still you see what the lines on your forehead are, he wasn't tracing out lines, he was writing “Fuckslut” on your forehead! examining your body from this perspective you can see your bald pussy peeking out of the gown, raising your arm for the shot must have pulled the gown up! your pussy is exposed! you can see the glistening from your arousal which has only gotten worse since it started, a hand reaches out and grabs your thigh. the surgeons unwanted touching makes you sick, but your pussy just cries out for more touches and you hate that your body is reacting positively.

Walking up beside your body he reaches out and grabs your breast “what the fuck” you think angrily! who does this guy think he is?! as he squeezes your perky C cup breast, moving to the other and repeating after a minute, leaving both your breasts a little sore but your nipples have reacted to the abuse and you can already see them poking against the gown. your head flooding with shame as you see them get harder and harder as his hand snakes its way up to your smooth neck and holds your throat. caressing your skin he loops his hand under the neck of the gown and to your horror, pulls hard and you feel the tight knots you did earlier come undone as the gown soars off your now completely naked body!

You cant believe what your seeing, your 19 year old body laying flat on the table with nothing covering you, your nipples reacting even more as they get even harder than they were seconds before, and your pussy is drooling with need, your humiliation has only begun and you know it. Watching in horror as the hand moves from your neck, sliding down your smooth skin to once again grasp your breast, your nipple being pinched hard this time, you hear him say “this size wont do, ill have to fill them out a bit” and worse still, you hear another unseen man say “you have the chart, make it happen” your eyes scanning the room as much as you can see, but you cant find the source of the second voice! Movement draws your eyes back to the hand as it slides easily over your smooth, flawless skin and glides over your pussy and fingers dip between your lips. Fluid now flowing out as he probes your most private area with his fingers, expertly drawing more and more fluid from you, clearly knowing what he is doing as he brushes across your clit forcing sharp sensations to stab your mind.

Pulling your legs open you see a separation in the table and sure enough the surgeon separates them, putting a brace on the inside section he opens them wider, catching your ankles in the process, and as the table continues to widen, so do your legs. Pussy now completely accessible now to even the most aimless of people, the surgeon brings a covered cart over to you and upon removing the cloth your witness to needles and a scalpel among other tools. Your terror reaching new heights as a needle is taken, full of a pink liquid it is moved straight for your clit, eyes almost bulging out of your head as the tip sinks into your precious bulb, but no pain, at least he was honest about that. Pushing the tip in further you see him injecting the fluid inside your clit and it actually begins to bulge, blood flooding to your nub forcing it to grow out, pushing its hood aside it now sitting out, you cant stop looking at it, its 3 times bigger than what it was!

A flash of steel and your eyes dart to the cause, the surgeon holding the scalpel now moves in on your engorged clit, slicing from the base and moving to the tip you see blood and you have no idea what he is doing to you.. placing a cup over your clit you see him attach a pump to the end, its a suction cup! you feel him pumping away your sensitive clit moving further away from your body, so sensitive the pumping continues will its 8cm out of your hood, then its bandaged to keep it out and exposed, “if she messes up you can grab her by her clit now and lead her anywhere you want” you look at your once adorable clit, you think “i could give my clit a fucking handjob now!” and its almost big enough too. pumped full of blood the sensitivity is through the roof, and because of the fluid he injected your clit with its completely rigid and standing straight out, not bending at all..

Taking 2 more needles from the cart he aims them for your exposed labia, penetrating them your injected with a blue liquid this time, and you feel a instant burning in your pussy as he injects you multiple times around your pussy and even your inner lips get 4 injections. Heat burning away as your arousal forced your pussy to clench and fresh juice squirts out, not a orgasm but it may as well have been, your so desperately horny now and there's nothing you can do! Watching in terror as he gets more needles and walks over to your breasts, 1 needle in the tip of your nipple and the orange fluid is injected followed by the burning sensation in your breasts, “experimental drugs are illegal but im sure you dont mind right” “not at all” the 2 men agree. both your breasts are burning from the inside as you feel them growing! you can almost see it happening right in front of your eyes, your C’s are growing to D’s!

Whatever the injections were they work fast and your not liking this at all! Taking a device from the table your pussy is opened up as he looks inside. “not a virgin” your surgeon says then a very long needle is inserted in your pussy. reaching far inside he hits the entrance to your womb and injects another drug, “what's going to happen to my poor womb?!” you think “there we go” he says, “she should be hypersensitive to touch now” not waiting for a invitation he touches your clit and you orgasm on the spot, from a simple touch! “now for her ass!” you hear him say as you come back down from the orgasm, a brown liquid filled needle is jabbed into your asshole and your filled once again with a burning sensation, likely being made hypersensitive like the rest of you. Looking to your breasts for a moment your stunned at the DD set your now carrying! your breasts are huge!

“Care to sample the goods?” your asshole of a surgeon says and you see him, a green hat moves into your sight, its that guy from the waiting room! You watch as he pulls his cock out and stands between your open legs and pushes into your soaked pussy! forcing 3 orgasms simultaneously from you as he thrusts in, pushing straight into your womb pulling a further 5 orgasms out of you! your mind is going numb already! you have never cum so many times so fast! your sure no woman has in history and yet here you are, a slave to the orgasmic hell these men have forced on you.. The man in the hat pulls out to your entrance again and thrusts once again straight to your womb, so many orgasms you only thought it “kill meee..” as even your voice in your head trails off in the pleasure. As he slams his length into you your clit gets rammed hard by his body and your rewarded with another 6 orgasms! “its not possiblee-ohmyfuckinggod!” you think as your mind melts through your gushing pussy!

After what seemed like a eternity of orgasmic hell, having well over 50 orgasms the man in the hat moves to your chest, hopping on you he slides his cock in between your DD breasts and begins thrusting hard, you have given a titjob before but it never feels this good! your already cumming just from having him fuck your tits! and he clearly enjoys his time as you feel a splash on your face and mouth as he cums on you. “can we make that more fun for the slave too?” he says, your mind stopping at the word “slave” what did he mean by that? your name is Layla for gods sake! you came in here for a touch up and your being transformed into a cum crazy slave?! you watch as a clear liquid filled needle is brought over to your face, your mouth is opened with no resistance, and your tongue is jabbed and filled with the fluid. “this will ensure the she enjoys giving you head as much as you enjoy receiving it” he said with a laugh!

Your mouth burning as the surgeon returns you your pussy and grabs your clit hard and begins playing with it, forcing you to cum instantly with each stroke, having a further 12 orgasms pulled from you in seconds and he is still going! your eyes roll back into your head as you cum wildly! your mouth still open from the injection some of the mans cum drips into your now open mouth and lands on your tongue, you never did like the taste of cum but this was different.. though you cant move it the cum just slides over your sensitive tongue and you can taste it, somehow you love it! it tastes amazing!, hearing something click your head drops backwards as your eyes look down at your body through the camera once more, the green hat man is lining up your throat for some fucking. Nothing you can do but watch this man fuck your throat, as his cock enters your mouth it pushes your tongue to the floor of your mouth, and you can taste his cock in detail. “s-so tasty!!” your mind screams as he begins pumping down your throat!

“i think were almost done here!” the surgeon says loudly and you hear a grunt of agreement from the man as you feel his hot load pump into your throat as he pulls out, raising your head back up and locking the table back in position, the surgeon stops pulling orgasms from you as he releases your hypersensitive and overstimulated clit, you couldn't count how many times you came if you wanted to.. Watching as the man in the green hat beings a bag over, he pulls some small devices out and places them beside you, “how long will she be paralyzed?” he asks as he does, “5 hours at least.” the surgeon replies, “5 hours of immobile hell?! fuck!” you think. Watching as the man places 2 devices on either side of your nipples and tapes them there you recognise them as vibrators.. “the sick fuck is going to keep making me cum?” you scream mentally.. a thick dildo is placed between your tits and turned on, it feels amazing already!

Watching in fear as a series of vibrators are stuck to your solid clit, covering it completely. A long dildo is pushed right into your pussy and into your womb, pulling more orgasms from you, and finally a scary long dildo is pushed inside your virgin ass, the sensation is incredible for your first time, you can feel it as it moves further and deeper inside you. a foot of rubber cock now fills your tight ass! you can see your pussy gaping open as the dildo doesn't even stick out a little, the man pulls a pair of panties from the bag. black and shiny you realize its a latex lined chastity belt. pushing your clit through the large hole in the front, the panties push completely against you, orgasming immediately as the latex hits your pussy, form fitting almost as it hugs your hips perfectly, metal on the outside you see him lock them on and lower a weird ring around the base of your clit and snapping it shut locking your clit in the belt. At the push of a button your whole body cums instantly as every vibrator activates at seemingly max power!

8, 20, 36, 53.. orgasms every few seconds as your clit visibly shakes as each vibration quakes your mind and body, your pussy and ass vibrating furiously as the tip of the cock in your womb wrenches more orgasms out of you. in the first 10 seconds you have already lost count of not only how many times you came, but also where you are! “my name……. is.. Laylaaaaaaahhhhhhh” your mind dribbles out, “fuuuck-ohmygodnooo!!” you would be screaming if you could. Your mask is removed and your eyes dart around looking at the man in the face clearly. you burn his face into your mind as the man who stole your life, but with his large beard you cant make out much! “FUCK! im cuuuuuuhhh..“ your mind trails off. countless orgasms pulled out of your body as the wheels on your table are unlocked and you learn why there are 2 doors on 1 side of the room, its to fit the table.. wheeled through the doors you see a carpark, and your new ride.. a car boot. Your body is folded up with the surgeons help and your bound into a doll almost, still cumming furiously as your placed in the boot of this mans car and locked inside.

Its dark inside, your body still cumming and you cant move even if you wanted to.. a life of sexual slavery at the hands of this man.. You wanted a Touch up, and now this man is going to touch you up any time he wants..

[peterparkerstarker]

Kinktober Day 20: Sex Pollen (Starker)

A whumpy dubcon sex pollen fic in which Peter totally has the hots for Tony, and is forced to ask him for... assistance.

Cw: Starker, age difference, underage Peter (16), Tony is in his 50s, sex pollen, dubcon turning into con, nymphomania, handjob, physical whump (Peter in pain, feverish, cramps, is scared)

@readysetstarker @jwolf18791 @warathena418 @pray4meireadstarker @thotticusmaxximus @mvrphyblooms @morgoona-stark @silkystark @untold-royalty @pollyparrot8 @sthefystarkersworld @katzenbaby1 @another-starker-hoe @tony-is-my-daddy @mystarkershame @plsstopgivingpetertrauma @hoeforthegays @lonleystarker @awesomeimportantfan @friendlyneighborhoodlosxr @hpspazz @starker-obsessions @starkershomelife @tightaroundthewebslinger @animefan1998-love @peterpissparker @starkercandy @loki-helmet @petecake @starkercrossedlovers @nerdylocksandthethreebears @thirstyhoe4yoongi @starker-reader @starkerissemiok @tomhollabel @momobaby227 @dragonskittysblog @sleepy-and-depressed

———————————

Peter shifted in his seat, sweaty and uncomfortable. He hadn’t been feeling great ever since the alien battle they’d narrowly won, but Tony had chalked it up to him not sleeping well. It didn’t help that he’d breathed in a mouthful of some dust that the hive-like creatures were apparently trying to spread. It tasted disgusting, and Peter had to lift his mask to spit out the offensive substance.

Tony had blasted the powder in the air with a repulsor beam and discovered it was highly flammable. It was a big risk for him to have taken, but once they’d discovered their weakness it made short work of an otherwise exhausting battle.

“You’re doing too many late night patrols, kid,” he’d told Peter afterwards, ruffling the boy’s messy, damp curls. “Leave some baddies for the rest of us. You’ve got that AP Calc exam to ace. We can handle Queens for a bit.” He’d smiled down at Peter, cocky and sweet, and Peter had felt something flutter in his stomach.

It’s not like he’d never thought of Tony like that. Of course he had. It was Tony freaking Stark. Who hadn’t been charmed by his good looks, easy confidence, and penchant for generosity?

But Peter knew he couldn’t act on it. Couldn’t ever tell Tony about his crush. It would be too weird, too much blurring of lines.

Plus there was the minor inconvenience of Peter still being in high school, and Tony was pushing 50.

So he shoved down all those thoughts into the part of his brain that could box things up, and he did his very best to not let himself go down that road whenever they were together. So far he’d been surprisingly successful.

Except now, his stomach was starting to cramp and he felt feverish, like he was going to be sick. But instead of the usual queasiness, he felt… something else. Something needy and desperate and animalistic.

Horny.

Holy fuck, he thought to himself, cramps nearly making him double over in pain. His cock was throbbing now, swollen and leaking pre-cum, and he wanted so desperately to touch himself, but he couldn’t. This was all developing so fast, and he didn’t know what was wrong, but clearly something was. Fear entangled with the heady pressure of desire, and he gripped the nearest armrest to keep from falling down.

He was alone in a helicarrier with Tony, and it was all he could do to not start rubbing one out in the cabin. Tony glanced over, finally noticing something was wrong, and Peter looked up to see him looking concerned, scared even.

He drew in a shaky breath, willing himself to gain control over whatever was happening to his body, but that turned out to be the wrong choice. Tony had moved to bend over him, clearly trying to figure out what was going on, and all he could smell was Tony. His fresh clean scent tinged with motor oil and grease.

It made him want to hump the older man’s leg until he came over and over, made him want to keep going until he was utterly spent, any last bit of his orgasm milked out of his cock. He bit back a moan at the delicious mental image and held his breath, afraid to catch even another whiff of Tony’s scent.

Tony moved in closer, a steadying hand resting on his shaking shoulder, and Peterabout cried from the touch.

It was warm and comforting and soothed some ache deep inside. He wanted to chase that feeling, drown in it. He needed more.

“Pete, talk to me, what’s going on?” Tony’s voice was so firm, serious. It made Peter want to submit, do whatever he said. It made him want to give up any and all control and just let Tony have his way with him.

His heart was racing, mind dizzy with jumbled thoughts as he stuttered out, “I-i, think there’s something wrong... feel k-kinda off.”

“No shit, kid,” Tony barked out a laugh, but there was no humor there. “Talk to me, what are you feeling? I need details if I’m gonna be able to help.” As he spoke he rubbed a circle into Peter’s hunched shoulder. His thumb caressed bare skin, and in spite of himself, Peter let out a desperate, high pitched moan.

He clenched his eyes closed, mortified, as he felt another desperate throb coming from his cock.

Tony’s eyes went wide, darting down to Peter’s groin. He shifted, trying to hide his incredibly obvious erection from the man, but the high tech spandex suit wasn’t built to withstand whatever was happening to Peter’s body.

He glanced a nervous look at Tony, who suddenly seemed to grasp onto more of the situation now.

“FRI, I need you to do a chemical analysis on the kid’s body. Look for any foreign substances, anything that might be causing this... this kind of reaction.” Tony’s voice was still stern, but there was something else there. Embarrassment. Pity. He felt bad for Peter, and that was somehow so much worse.

“Sir, Mr. Parker seems to be experiencing high spikes of physical and mental arousal, likely due to a xenomorphic powder, ingested through the mouth and nose. I immediately found traces of it, and am working to analyse its compounds, but my initial results suggest this could be life threatening if action is not taken immediately,” the AI said in a serious, clipped tone

Peter darted a look to Tony, who seemed to still be processing FRIDAY’s words.

A moment later, Tony spoke. “What is the recommended course of treatment, FRI?”

“The substance appears to be attacking Mr. Parker’s central nervous system, blood pressure and hormones, among numerous other bodily functions. The obvious answer seems to be to alleviate the symptoms until I can finish my full analysis. At the least it should buy Mr. Parker some time,” she said.

Peter let out a startled huff. “She doesn’t mean, surely, not…”

Tony sighed, eyes not meeting Peter’s. “The best plan right now is for you to get yourself off right now. Hopefully it’ll put off the effects of whatever that powder is having on your body until we can figure out a solid plan of action.”

“But, but, I can’t… I mean I can’t… not with you here,” Peter said, right as another cramp wracked his body, and he let out a loud groan, cheeks flaring crimson red from how obscene the noise was.

“I don’t think you have any other options, Pete. You heard FRI, this stuff is killing you. I know the cabin is small, so I’ll do my best to give you some privacy. I get that this is embarrassing, kid, but it’s the best option we have right now,” Tony said quietly, turning to give him the promised space.

Peter breathed out heavily. He didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to jerk himself off with Tony 20 feet away, but the other option was dying, so he had no other choice.

He pressed the release button on his suit, feeling a hint of cool relief on his skin as the tight fabric loosened its grip. Gritting his teeth, he worked the suit down his body until at last, his cock sprang free, slick and coated with pre-come. He felt so sticky and messy, but at least there was plenty of lubrication.

Peter placed his hand on his cock, pumping experimentally, letting out a whimper that had him clasping his free hand to his mouth, as he tried in vain to silence his sounds. Tony didn’t react, just stood there with his back turned to Peter, ever the gentleman.

He kept stroking, faster now, being rougher with himself than he ever had before, chasing his relief. With clenched teeth and his hand still muffling his mouth, he made a series of mortifying groans and whines, desperate to come, desperate to soothe the ache deep inside. He kept pumping, gripping himself harder, harder, until it almost hurt, but try as he might, he couldn’t get to that point. He couldn’t quite come, and the more he tried, the more it frustrated him.

He stopped, catching his breath.

He knew what he needed to do, what he needed to ask of Tony, but it didn’t make it any easier.

“Uhm.. T-tony? It’s not really… working. It’s helping, but I can’t seem to quite, uhm… get there. If you know what I mean,” Peter said in a whisper of a voice. His whole body ached, down to his bones.

“FRI, can you give us an update?” Tony asked instead of responding to Peter.

“Boss, Mr. Parker’s vitals improved significantly while he was alleviating the symptoms, but I fear that if he doesn’t reach climax soon, he may develop a brain bleed from the amount of stress on his body. His blood pressure and hormones are spiking again.”

“Fuck,” Tony said, still not turning to face Peter.

“There… there is one thing that might help,” Peter said, biting back a yell as the cramps took hold again. “When you touched me earlier, it helped. Your-your thumb touched my bare skin and I felt a lot better for a minute. Maybe if you....” But he couldn’t finish the sentence. It was too mortifying. God, he couldn’t believe he was even asking this of Tony.

Ever so slowly, Tony turned to face him, fear and confusion apparent on his face.

“Peter, I can’t, I mean, you’re 16 for Christsakes. I can’t. Your Aunt would kill me,” he said.

“Please Tony, I don’t want to die. P-please?” He was crying now, fat tears dripping down his cheeks. He was so scared, so afraid that he might not make it through this.

Tony scrubbed a hand on his face, thinking. “Okay,” he said. A long moment passed before he spoke again, “I’ll do it. I can’t lose you kid.”

And then he was crossing the length of the helicarrier cabin and was kneeling in front of Peter, and it was all too much. He’d spent so many nights shoving down thoughts of this moment. He didn’t want it like this, but what choice did they have?

“How should we do this?” Tony asked, and fuck, he was too perfect, too beautiful.

Peter gulped and said, “Maybe if you just... touch it?” He winced. God, that had to be the least sexy thing he could have said in this moment.

But Tony did as he had been asked, and grasped shaking fingers onto Peter’s throbbing cock. It was practically purple with all the blood flowing to it, and he felt instant relief at the touch.

He moaned loudly, clapping a hand to his mouth once more, but Tony kept touching him, ever so gently. He held Peter like he was delicate, something precious and fragile.

And then Fuck fuck fuck! Tony was stroking him, up and down the length of his shaft, circling the head and using his thumb to spread the wetness. It was incredible. Peter felt dizzy and floaty as pain gave way to pleasure. Real and unfiltered pleasure. He wanted to cry from how delicious Tony felt, working him in smooth steady strokes.

He leaned back against the wall behind him, lost in the sensation of Tony’s hand on him. He didn’t care about how fucked up this whole situation was anymore, because it just felt so goddamn good. He thrust into Tony’s grip, chasing the friction, needy and greedy for more, and closed his eyes.

“Tony, ah, fuck, Tony. Need you so bad. Thank you! I’ve wanted you for so long. I know this is wrong, know you’re just doing this to save me, but I’ve wanted you for so long, please don’t stop, don’t stop!” He knew he shouldn’t be admitting this, but his fever-addled brain didn’t care. He needed Tony to know.

Peter could feel it rising from deep inside, the pressure building at the base of his cock, from within his balls, and he was so close, so, so close. “Tony, I’m gonna, gonna--” And then he was spurting, shooting thick milky come, coating Tony’s hand, his chest, and he kept pumping up into the wet warmth like an animal in heat, releasing every last little droplet he could.

He sagged against the wall, slumping a little from how exhausted he was. He was drenched in sweat, his fever apparently broken, and all the pain he’d felt had faded away. All that was left was fucked out bliss.

They stayed there for a few moments, before Tony started laughing. Peter, still sleepy from coming, peeked a look at the man still kneeling before him.

“Jesus, Pete, if you wanted me so bad you should have just said so. You didn’t need to go huffing alien viagra,” his smile was easy and relaxed, the relief that Peter was okay clear on his face.

“Hey now!” Peter started, but FRIDAY chose that moment to interrupt. “It appears that his vitals have returned to normal, boss. The alien substance has worked its way through its life cycle, and is no longer present in his body from my readings.”

Tony gave a quizzical look at Peter, before asking, “Life cycle? I thought you said it was just a powder, FRI?”

“That is what I had initially assumed,” she continued, and Peter swore he could hear a touch of indignation in her voice, “But I’ve ascertained it’s something more similar to a pollen, something the hive you fought was spreading in an ill-advised attempt to gain control over the human species. I’ve already sent out dronebots to collect any remaining particles for containment, boss.”

“Atta girl, FRI,” Tony said proudly, turning his attention back to Peter, “So.. sex pollen huh?” he chuckled. “You really do need a break from patrolling after all that.” He leaned up to place a gentle kiss on Peter’s lips, soft and warm and sweet. “Let’s get cleaned up and get you home. And maybe we don’t tell your Aunt about this particular mission, Pete?”

Peter gulped, nodding and said, “Yep, a completely routine alien battle, we got them taken care of in less than 15 and then you took me out for shawarma and made me study for AP Calc on the way home, right Mr. Stark?”

“Right kid,” he said with a smile, kissing Peter once more. “Now, are you going to tell me about all these fantasies you’ve been having about me, or am I gonna have to fuck it out of you?”

[bonesaldente]

Caliginous I Darth Maul x Reader

Chapter 6: The Time In-Between

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words: 3200

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“Look over there.” You are leaned against the wall behind Maul, looking for a clearing in the miles of forest that are spread out ahead of you. You’ve been flying low for some time now, unable to find a place to land, the density of trees too high.

The ship turns right, following the direction of your outstretched hand. And you were right; as you close in on the speck of color you spotted among the masses of green, you can tell it’s a clearing you’ve found.

“Sit down for the landing.”

You move from your position against the wall to the closest seat and sit down on it.

You can feel the ship slowing down and gently sinking. The Sith is a good pilot, managing to dodge all trees and land perfectly centered on the small clearing.

Together you leave the ship, and you close your eyes as you finally breathe in the fresh air. The sounds of the forest fill your ears and a sense of utter peace and warmth fills you.

You’ve got a good feeling about this planet—you haven’t seen any signs of civilization for miles while flying, which means you’re going to be safe from any enemies you may have made.

The zabrak seems to be satisfied with the location as well: You can tell by the way his body seems less tense than usual, his shoulders dropping down and the muscles in his face relaxing.

“My scans say there should be a source of water nearby.” He looks around in an attempt to orient himself, then looks back down on the device on his wrist. “This way.” He points to his left.

“I will go look for it.”

“Remain vigilant. We don’t know what could be hiding in this forest.”

You are somewhat touched by the way he shows he does, somehow, care about you. Reminding you to stay safe, providing you with all the materials you ask for—it seems like very little, yet it means a lot, coming from him, who otherwise seems so untouchable.

You hear a sound and freeze, holding your breath and listening intently. Was that an animal, or was that…

water?

You rush to where the steady sound of waves is coming from and indeed: a small river meanders through the forest scenery. It’s unsurprising that you didn’t see it from up in the air; the trees cover it almost entirely.

It is a beautiful sight, and it will be useful as well—instead of using up the water on the ship, you can use the river as your water supply while you’re here

You just soak it all in for a moment, contemplating to sit down, but instead decide to head back to the ship and share what you found with Maul.

You have almost made it back to the clearing, when you hear a sound again, except for this time, you know for sure it must be an animal—you are too far away from the river to still be hearing it.

A quiet crack comes from behind you, and you spin around, machete in your hand.

You are faced with a creature that looks similar to a rabbit, maybe a little smaller, with bigger eyes, and longer limbs.

You can’t help but coo at the sheer cuteness of this animal.

“I like this planet” you whisper to yourself as you bend your knees slightly and get closer to the animal that’s still just staring at you. Weird—shouldn’t a creature like this be afraid of you?

Maybe, there just aren’t any predators in this place, that’s why it doesn’t show any signs of fear. Or maybe—

You let out a surprised scream as it opens its mouth to bare a set of razor-sharp teeth, saliva dripping from them. Maybe it is the predator.

You make a run for it and hear it following closely behind. You’ve got the bad feeling that this creature is faster than you, its steps getting louder with every second.

Spotting a low-hanging branch, you jump and pull yourself up on it, hugging the branch for a second while you catch your breath.

The animal is right under you, jumping and snapping, but unable to reach you.

The shock in you finally subsides and makes room for rationality: You can probably kill this thing quite easily, you just have to avoid it getting too close to you.

You jump back down and ram your machete into its back before it can react, the beastly sounds of it finally quieting down, until silence returns to the forest.

Wiping the sweat off your brow with the back of your hand, you pick up the dead animal by its neck, deciding to take it back to the ship.

You walk for another minute before reaching the clearing. Maul, kneeling in front of an open panel on his ship, eyes up the dead body in your hands and looks like he is about to say something, but you interrupt him.

“There’s water less than three minutes from here, but if you encounter one of these bunnies, don’t fall for it.” You drop the body in front of him. “They’re carnivores.”

He opens its mouth with his fingers, exposing its pointy teeth. A frown grazes his features.

“Do you think there are more of them out there?” You ask.

His eyes close in thought.

“We can’t rule out the possibility.” He gets up from his kneeling position, now looking down at you. “We should set up shields around the ship.”

You nod, averting your gaze, suddenly intimidated by the close proximity.

Your eyes get caught on the dead animal between you. Nudging it with your foot, you ask: “You think we can eat this thing?”

“I wouldn’t risk it.” He walks to the open ramp, returning shortly after with four appliances in his arms. They slowly rise from his grasp, floating from his position to the edge of the clearing, creating a rectangle around the ship.

“Turn those two on.” He gestures to his left, turning around to activate the other two.

After flicking a couple of switches, you are surrounded by the soft hum of functioning shields. They dim out outside noises as well, and suddenly it’s eerily quiet on the clearing. You didn’t even notice until now how loud nature can be.

It’s the middle of the day, so you figure it would be smart to stay awake until the sun sets, to get used to the local time. This gives you about five hours to spare.

You remember the lightsaber in your bag and look over to the Sith, who doesn’t appear to be overly busy. This would be a good time to get some practice with the new weapon.

Hurriedly, you enter the ship and rummage through your bag, until your fingertips graze the cool metal handle.

For the first time, you get a good look at the weapon, the way the components are arranged, the detail that went into it.

“What do you have there?”

His voice startles you; you didn’t hear him move to the open ramp.

“I was about to show you.” You toss him the weapon and he examines it in his hands for a second before igniting it. The blue hue feels unfamiliar, unlike his red saber, and reminds you of the Jedi that had come to your planet before.

“This belonged to a Jedi.” he assesses correctly.

“I stole it from the guild. They had taken it from one of them.” You pause. “I was hoping to learn to use it.”

He retracts the blade and throws the weapon back to you. “Usually, only force users wield them.”

“But it doesn’t need to be that way, right?” You remember igniting his lightsaber on Nar Shaddaa.

“No. It is possible to use one without any force sensitivity.”

You feel like a child receiving a gift at the prospect of being able to fight with a real lightsaber.

“But you’ll need to practice. Lightsabers are different from regular swords in many ways.”

“Will you show me?” You tear your eyes from the shiny weapon in your hands, meeting his gaze.

He ponders for a minute.

“I believe this will be beneficial, yes.”

You try to not let your giddiness show, but inside you are squealing with delight.

The powerful weapon is lighter than you expected and balanced differently from your usual sword. Its weight resides mostly in its handle, making it suitable for twirling and faster movements. Also, you need to use much less force to do damage, but at the same time, you need to be extremely careful to not hurt yourself by accidentally letting it touch you.

You figured all of this out on your own in the past few minutes. Now, Maul is standing before you, red lightsaber ignited, ready to test what you’ve managed to pick up so far.

It’s a good thing you are already very familiar with fighting with a sword, you think.

You come at him slowly, experimentally, and for the first time, you experience the feeling of two lightsabers pressing against each other. It sends a weird vibration through your arms. With a little more force, Maul pushes against your hold and sends you stumbling backward, but you collect yourself once more and come at him again, this time actually trying different moves and getting into a proper sparring session, though he doesn’t appear to be overly challenged by your efforts. He ends up winning by getting you into a position in which you are forced to lower your lightsaber to protect your legs, and then quickly pointing his saber to your neck, not getting it close enough to actually hurt you, but enough to prove that—in a real battle—he would have been able to.

Somehow, that demonstration of power is very attractive to you.

You just stand there for a moment, slightly out of breath, until he retracts his saber.

“You are a good fighter.” His statement catches you by surprise, not expecting a compliment.

“I… Thank you?” You don’t know what to say.

Your eyes fall on his lightsaber.

“I’ve been meaning to ask—Why is your lightsaber handle so long?”

He steps further back from you, holding it in front of him and reigniting it, but suddenly, the other side is ignited too—a double-bladed saber.

Fascination flashes through your eyes as you muster the weapon with wonder, tilting your head.

“Is this common?”

He shakes his head, retracting the two blades. “It requires years of practice.”

Something inside you wants to ask him if you can use it, but you suppress the desire to hold the unusual weapon. Maybe another time.

You hate to admit it, but you’re bored. With the shields up, not even the sounds of the forest are there to entertain you, and you feel cut off from the rest of the world. For the past few hours you’ve taken to throwing the ball against the shield and catching it when it ricochets off of it, lazily sitting on the grass with your back against the spaceship.

The sun finally sets, painting the sky stunning colors, and you decide it’s time to get some rest and fall into the planet’s natural rhythm. Maul disappeared inside the ship not long ago, you think he was in the shower.

Now, as you enter the ship, you can hear his footsteps upstairs, but you pay no mind to it. You down a bottle of water and flop down on the bed, really wishing there was a curtain to give you at least some kind of privacy. You stay on top of the covers and close your eyes, trying to fall asleep, but the lack of noise around you is unsettling. Instead of the hum of the spaceship, the chirping of the birds, or even the bustling streets of Kessel, there is nothing but silence, only occasionally interrupted by footsteps on the floor above you.

You awaken just as the sun rises. Maul is nowhere to be seen, but the sheets on his bed are slightly messed up, indicating he actually slept in here for some time. You feel weirdly embarrassed at the thought of him seeing you asleep, in such a vulnerable state, but it’s somewhat nice to know that he trusts you enough to sleep in your presence.

The outside air is slightly cooler than the day before, giving you goosebumps as you exit the ship, but it’s the perfect temperature for physical activity.

As a contract killer, it’s always been important that you stay in perfect shape and have one hundred percent control over every muscle. You don’t intend to change that anytime soon, so you start warming up and quickly move to some exercises, making use of the few trees that are still within your shields. The air on this planet is much better than Kessel’s polluted atmosphere, and you feel like your stamina is at an all-time high.

You have been at it for about an hour and have taken to stretching out again when you hear steps approaching. You are in the middle of doing a split and not really in any position to get up, but you turn your head—just in time to catch the wooden staff he is throwing your way.

Is this his way of asking you to spar with him? Truly, not a very vocal man, though you aren’t very talkative either.

You push yourself off the ground and weigh the staff in your hands, remembering the days when you would be forced to practice with a staff just like this for hours and hours. You would say that you have gotten quite good at it overall this time, even though you never saw the point in practicing so much with a staff instead of a sword - not once have you been in a situation in which you seriously had to fight an enemy with just a staff.

But there was probably an underlying reason nobody ever bothered to explain to you.

And, also, it is kind of fun.

Twirling the staff in your hand once, you get into a fighting stance, feeling admittedly a little excited to be in a fair fight with him.

“A fair fight, you say?”

Your mouth falls open as you stare at him.

“Did you… read my mind?”

He starts spinning the staff in his hands, approaching you, when you decide to go into the offense, immediately extending the staff towards him and starting your attack by executing forceful and fast-paced blows with both sides of your staff, twisting and spinning, and just completely giving in to your intuition.

“You are not shielding it.” He says in between chains of attack, pushing down on your staff forcefully.

“That’s exactly,” you grunt as you push him away, “what I meant. Mind tricks are cheating.”

He scoffs but stays quiet after that.

This session is much more even than when you tried the lightsaber. Both of you have years of practice with this medium, at least you assume he has judging by his aptitude with the weapon, so it’s unsurprising that neither of you really have the upper hand. Sometimes, Maul ends up with the staff pointing straight at your neck, sometimes the roles are reversed.

It’s after a particularly long round that you decide you’ve had enough of the staff and toss it to the side, facing your opponent with a challenging look. He hesitates, but eventually gives in and follows your lead, obviously less comfortable without any kind of weapon in his hands, which is exactly what you anticipated his reaction to be.

Because most people you fight are bigger than you, you rely on speed and the efficient use of your body weight, as well as your flexibility, meaning you jump and kick a lot and make full use of the agility you’ve worked on for years.

Maul, however, is shockingly swift in his movements as well, despite the fact that hand-to-hand combat is clearly not his preferred method of fighting.

You dive under his swing and execute a smooth roundhouse kick, immediately spinning a second time, and landing a hit at the side of his face. You didn’t go full-power, since you’re just sparring, but it was strong enough to get him to stumble the tiniest bit, giving you the opportunity to come running up to him and wrap your left leg around his side, jumping up while rotating your hips and effectively throwing him to the ground under you.

You try to fight the triumphant grin that is trying to make its way on your face, always having been taught to not let any emotions shine through in combat - but sitting on his side, your legs wrapped around his and his arms pinned to the ground next to his head with one hand, the other holding on to his neck, restricting all movement, you finally feel like you have won , which you didn’t realize until now was something you were in desperate need of after having lost to him in the alley. You never thought self-doubt and insecurity could manifest in you so fast, but apparently, one defeat was all it took to bring you down. Luckily, your self-esteem recovers just as fast as it collapses.

Panting, you look down at the zabrak and suddenly really feel the sensation of skin-to-skin contact, noticing how warm his skin is against yours, how close you are to him, how this is the first time you actually touch ...

You stare at his larger hands next to yours, realizing that for once he is not wearing his leather gloves, red and black fingers finally exposed to your lingering gaze—

With a ruck he frees himself from your hold on him, you too distracted to react in time. His hand shoots up to your shoulder and pushes it back, using his leg to spin you onto your back and press you into the ground.

You open your mouth to protest, but can’t think of anything to say other than ‘It’s not fair, I was busy staring at you and being touch-starved!’

So there you are, buried underneath his form, just blinking at him disappointedly. You could swear that amusement is flickering in the corners of his hypnotizingly yellow glowing eyes. The only sound heard is the two of you breathing hard, your heart thumping in your chest.

He remains in his position on top of you for a moment longer than one usually would while sparring, before abruptly standing up, briefly hesitating, and then stretching his hand out to help you get up. You take it, his skin again unexpectedly hot and far softer than it looks.

How come somebody with a life as violent as his has such… nice hands?

“Once again, you are not shielding your thoughts.”

Embarrassment fills you as you realize he just heard you call his hands ‘nice and soft’.

“Nobody said you had to listen to them!” you snap defensively, unable to think of something better to reply while you feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, quickly turning away from him to keep him from seeing your blush.

You’ll have to figure out how to protect your thoughts better in the future.

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next chapter

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oooh, reader is a little touch-starved you say? Not gonna lie, I wouldn’t mind my favorite zabrak gently pinning me to the ground either,,,

@princessayveke

[melyaliz]

Chapter 1: Ride the Lightning

 Masterlist

Fandom: Marvel / X-Men 

Summary: Peter had seen a lot of weird things being an X-men but this woman was one of the weirder ones.  

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x OC 

Notes: Trying to figure out timelines for this is a pain. One of the reasons I HATE the X-Men. We are just going to say this is right after Apocalypse and Peter is around 25. I know I’m going to get hate for it because of time but oh well. 

ALSO: I promise requests are getting written. I just had to clean the 12 chapters of my novel so I could send them to my editors. (I’m so close to being done with the first draft I can taste it) 

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive​

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He was never sure what had drawn him to her. It was like this magnetic pull. No matter what he did he found himself back to her. Racing toward her, unable to go anywhere else.

Lighting striking the highest point. 

Whoever said lightning never strikes the same place twice was wrong. 

Lighting always struck whatever was closest. The highest point in the sky. So if that point was still the highest point it would still strike it. 

And that was her, she was so high up he couldn’t see anyone else but her.

She was his angel in the clouds.

----

“Cyclops look out!” Jean screamed as she blocked the large bone spikes that were shot out at her boyfriend. Peter looked around the room assessing the problem. It was 6 of them against 4 of the bad guys. 

And they were kind of getting their asses handed to them. 

Only kind of though. 

Cyclops and Jean were fighting that weird bone shooty guy while Nightcrawler was dodging the mini earthquakes from the other guy while Peter was racing around the blonde chick shooting weird little light bombs at him while Jubilee tried to combat the bursts with her own pyrotechnics. 

While Storm, Strom was fighting a chick with hair that was almost as white as hers. 

A gust of wind and the chick crashed into a bus. 

But instead of seeming to get hurt the shock from the force between the chick and the bus seemed to get absorbed. Dropping down the chick shook her head eyes glowing bright blue sparks with energy. 

No one else noticed it, probably because of his speed, but the girl's hands started to flicker with some weird blue light her eyes matching. 

Slowly she stood and as Ororo sent another wave of wind the girl raised her hand the wind dying down and her hands glowing visibility now. 

Dashing toward his teammate Peter quickly moved the weather goddess away as the girl let out a blast of pure energy. He glanced back at the chick, her face completely stoic no expression, completely blank. 

It was kind of creepy. 

Once Strom was away from the blast Peter raced toward the girl. It was time to end this. 

Grabbing her from behind he pulled her hands behind her back against his chest trying to decide what his next move should be. 

“Time to chill out,” he said.  

Slowly she turned to look at him, her eyes glowing with energy, “We do not take orders from you.” she said before leaning back so her fingertips touched his wrist. 

And suddenly Peter felt… exhausted. 

It was as if someone was sucking the life out of him. Or his energy. Or his speed. 

The world seemed to slow, drain. 

He pulled away from her clutching his wrist eyes focusing on her face. Shock, as he realized the world around him, seemed to speed up, meet him. 

Her face looked blank, unmoving in that creepy child of the corn look. But her eyes, her eyes were alight with blue fire. Hair bright as she let the blue energy flow through her body. Rising her hands like a prayer she closed her eyes then spread her arms out letting a wave of energy flow sending everyone flying. 

In the dust of it, they were gone. 

Peter blinked looking around.

What had just happened? 

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

“Late at night, all systems go, you've come to see the show

We do our best, you're the rest, you make it real, you know” 

Metallica pulsed through Gemma’s headphones from her walkman as she moved from the bus stop of her job at the post office. 

“Adrenaline starts to flow

You're thrashing all around

Acting like a maniac

Whiplash”

Her hand tapped against the door letting the residual reaction flow through her hand. Small sparks of energy pulsing through her veins. Who needs coffee when they have an amazing song? 

“Morning!” Her coworker Sandra said waving to her from behind the table where she was organizing letters. Gemma waved back adding a little skip in her step as she made her way back to the packages department. 

Gemma liked the post office. It offered some sort of repetition, moving boxes around getting them where they needed to go. It was a lot of mental work but it was consistent and she liked that. They also didn’t mind if she played music while she did it which was a plus. 

And when she was done she was done. And she could go home and be home. 

And rest.

Gemma had always had problems sleeping. When her mutant abilities had emerged she had just assumed it had something to do with that. Her ability to absorb energy. It was as if every little thing charged her up and sent her into a spiral of energy that she couldn’t quite calm down from. It had taken years worth of therapy and mediation to get it under control. 

So when the restlessness had come back she wasn’t really sure why. 

It was as if even when she slept she felt even worse the next morning. No matter how early she went to bed or how long she slept in. 

“Have a good night last night?” Gemma was broken from her internal whining about wanting a nap by her co-worker Paul who nodded toward the large bruise on her lower arm. She glanced down at it. Yeah, it kind of looked like a handprint. 

“Honestly, I don’t even know where I got that.” Gemma laughed pulling at her sleeve trying to cover it and wishing she had worn longer sleeves.  

“Man I need the drugs your on” he laughed as he handed her another box. 

“Yeah Metallica is one hell of a drug” 

“Oh have you checked out Twisted Sister yet?” 

“Yeah, I loved it,”

“You should come over tonight, ya know, listen to it. I just got a new kickass stereo” 

Gemma bit her lip nervously glancing at Paul. She knew what “hang out and listen to music” meant and… honestly, all she really wanted to do tonight was sleep. Like for real. 

“Sorry I promised my parents I would… do this thing.”

“Oh that’s right christen girl.” Paul laughed shaking his head, “Well if you ever want to see how us pagans live let me know.”

“I’ll keep it in mind thanks.”

After several more long hours even her powers couldn’t help her charge enough. Gemma felt like she was going to pass out on the shipping floor. The end of the day couldn’t come soon enough.  

Slowly she dragged herself back to the bus stop before putting in her headphones and resting as the bus drove her home. 

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

No matter how fast he ran Peter could not get that feeling out of his head. 

His literal speed being drained from his body. 

It was back now, the energy within him quickly recharging after they had regrouped at a team but he still felt like he needed to run out that bad taste that was in his mouth. 

That feeling. Like slowly getting tired. As if something was draining you. Sucking the very lifeforce out of your body. 

He hated it. 

Shaking his head he was about to do another lap around the coast when it caught his eye. 

She caught his eye. 

Maybe it was because he was thinking about last night but… there was no way. 

Yet he could have sworn…

No, it wasn’t possible. 

Doubling back he ran toward the bus again. 

There was no way.

------

The bus stopped to let more people on. Gemma ignored them as she pulled her bag onto her lap to give a newcomer a seat. Settling back in she adjusted her headset as her eyes flickered up for a moment to see a silver-haired boy walking purposefully up to her. 

Shit

Please leave me alone. I'm tired.

“It’s you”

Silence stretched between them both. “Oh sorry” she finally said, “I thought there was more to that pickup line.”

Peter felt himself confused, “No I… you know” he sat down next to her making sure he kept enough of a distance from her that he could get away quickly, especially her hands, “The one from the energy plant. Look if you come quietly…” 

Was this guy insane? Possibly, I mean this was public transportation.  

“Trust me,  I’m not...” 

“Wait are you listening to Pink Floyd?” he asked quickly pulling off her headphones putting one side to his ear.

“Ohhhh ok.” So this guy was insane, fun. “It’s ok never really been that big of a fan.”

“What?” his large brown eyes looked at you in pure shock as if you had just told him the world was flat and that stars are just fireflies stuck in the sky. You shrugged.

“I’m just more of a Metal fan” 

“Like what?” 

“Like this” you pulled out the tape and placed Iron Maiden in pressing play as Trooper blasted through the speakers. Gently she put the headphones on his head. 

He nodded as the music blasted through the speakers. The energy around it is loud and addicting. He was familiar with the band and while his tastes leaned more for contemporary and experimental rock.  

So here’s the thing about talking to strangers on a bus. Don’t do it, especially if they think you are someone you are not. 

But there is also the other thing. 

Gemma could basically blast this guys head off if she wanted. Maybe not at this moment considering that she felt like she was about to fall asleep at any moment, but if she really needed to he could drain his energy and get away no problem. 

So why not talk about music with someone on a long bus ride home. 

Also, she had other headphones so if he had some weird ear fungus whatever. 

Call it loneliness. Call it boredom. Call it sleep-deprived. 

Call it whatever you want but today she decided to just hang with a crazy stranger and listen to music. 

So they sat a half a foot apart the headphones stretched between them as she showed him different songs she liked. 

“This is me” she finally said a few songs later. Peter blinked in confusion at her comment. Turning to her as the song paused. The girl nodded toward the stop that their bus was slowing down toward. “So yeah…” unplugging the headphones leaving them on his hand she got up grabbing her bag before moving around him to get out. “See ya never” 

Peter sat in shock for a moment, what had just happened? How had the time flown by so fast? Normally it was him flying through as the world stood and waited. Blinking a few times he realized the girl was already walking off the bus.

“Hey!” 

She paused turning looking over her shoulder at the weird man sitting there with her headphones still in his hand looking at her as if he hadn’t quite caught up with what was going on. It’s ok not all of us are quick on the uptake. 

Her bright blue eyes sparkled with the evening sun outside the window and a private joke she was enjoying. That’s when he saw it. The way her fingers tapped the metal handrail in time with the music still echoing in her brain. 

Blue sparks. 

“I… What’s your name?” 

“Gemma” 

Two more steps and she was gone, the door closing behind her. Bus pulling away. 

What the hell? 

---------

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[orangeoctopi7]

Bonding Time

Hey y’all, it’s the latest chapter of the Spider-Stan AU! Consider it a late Christmas present. Or... wait... is it still Hanukkah? Have a happy Hanukkah present then!

Breakfast the morning after McGucket left was awkward, to say the least. The only sound was the steady crunch of chewing cold cereal punctuated by the occasional scrape of a spoon. Stan pretended to try and solve the maze on the back of the box of Penta-Grahms, even though it was easy enough for a five-year-old. Ford stared so intently into his bowl it appeared as though he was trying to use it as a crystal ball.

Eventually they both finished eating, and Stan finally broke the silence.

“So, what kinda tests are we runnin’ today?”

“Well…” Stanford trailed off, remembering his argument with Fiddleford the day before. Maybe he could be a little more honest with his brother. “Truthfully, we’ve run about all the physical tests I can think of, so far. We’ve, uh, we’ve learned a lot about how the mutation has affected you and your physical capabilities. And your health.”

Stan’s face fell. “Oh… soooooo… no more tests... does that mean… you want me to go?”

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” Ford said hurriedly.

“Well, I mean, I don’t wanna stay if you don’t want me to.”

“Who ever said I didn’t want you to stay?”

“No one, I just don’t wanna seem like I’m leachin’ off you.”

“Nonsense!” Ford corrected him. The beginnings of a hopeful smile formed on Stan’s lips. “There’s still plenty more we can learn from you!”

“Oh.” Stan’s almost-smile changed to an annoyed frown before his brother even noticed it.

“I’ve got some inventions I was working on before another project came along and took up most of my time, but you’d be perfect to test them!”

“As long as we don’t have to take any more blood samples, sounds good to me.”

And so Stan followed his brother into a small storage room, with just a few small windows, where several odd objects were sitting around, collecting dust. It all looked like junk to Stan, but obviously Ford knew what it all was. He picked out a large pair of goggles, a pair of weird gauntlets, and what looked suspiciously like spandex, before leaving the room and heading outside.

Ford sat down on the porch steps and tried on the goggles. They were comically large, even fitting over those huge nerd glasses, and made him look even more like a great horned owl. The eye pieces slanted at an angle, reminding Stan of an oni print he’d seen in a Japanese gift shop back in Portland. 

After just a couple of seconds, Ford pulled them off, blinking rapidly and massaging his eyes. “They seem to be working, but I can’t wear them for long without getting a horrible headache.”

“What’re they supposed to do?”

“They’re light filtration goggles, meant to help see beyond the visible light spectrum. But they take in more light at once than the human eye can typically handle. I was hoping, with your improved senses, you might be able to make use of it. Either that, or it’ll just give you a headache faster.”

“Gee, thanks.” Stan rolled his eyes, but took the goggles anyways. “Whoa!” He exclaimed when he put them on. The world seemed brighter and more colorful with the goggles on, like someone had fiddled with the color balance on the TV.

“Is it giving you a headache already?” Ford asked with a touch of concern.

“No, my head’s fine. But wow, this… this doesn’t look real. It feels more like I’m lookin’ at some fancy paintin’ of the woods than a real forest.” Stan continued to look around when he noticed a strange trail of purple that definitely hadn’t been there before, leading into the forest. As he focused on where the purple line disappeared into the trees, the goggles whirred, and suddenly his vision zoomed in on the spot. “Whoa!” he repeated.

“The goggles can read the muscle movements in and around your eyes to magnify when you’re looking at something in the distance.” Ford explained.

“Yeah yeah, I noticed that part.” Stan stood and walked towards the trail, “But I’m seein’ some weird purple stuff here.”

“Really?” Ford followed him and crouched down, low to the ground, to get a better look at what his brother was staring at. “Right here?” He pointed to a tiny gnome footprint in the dirt.

“Yeah, except it’s a whole line of little purple streaks like that, leading into the woods…” Stan followed the line back towards the cabin and saw it snake around the corner “...and into your front yard.”

Ford’s eyes widened “That’s the trail the gnomes take to my garbage can! You’re telling me you can see it as a different color?”

“Yeah, it’s kinda hazy purple.”

A triumphant grin spread across Ford’s face. “This is incredible! I originally invented these to enable me to visualize residual weirdness, but whenever I tried them on myself, the visual input was too much, and I couldn’t make out anything through the sensory overload! But it actually works!” He grabbed Stan by the shoulders and turned him back towards the woods. “Tell me, do you see anything else?”

“Uhhh…” He scanned the woods, looking for any more colors that looked out of place. “There’s a tree over that way that looks… I dunno, too green? That one with the really thick trunk, near the edge of the clearing.”

Ford followed his brother’s gaze as best he could, squinting at the trees in the vicinity and finding the thick trunk in question. His eyes widened when he got a good look at it, and he suddenly rushed back into the house. Stan didn’t even have time to ask what his brother was doing when the researcher reappeared on the porch, holding a megaphone in one hand. 

“Steve, I told you to stay away from the cars in this clearing! If you take one more step towards my brother’s car, I will get the chainsaw!”

Stan was beginning to think his brother had finally made the leap from eccentric to just plain crazy when the tree trunk, which had to be a few yards around, was lifted out of the ground. Stan pulled the goggles off, sure they were malfunctioning. His jaw dropped in disbelief as he realized it wasn’t a tree at all, but the foot of some bark-skinned giant. A flock of startled birds rose out of the woods and the ground shook as the giant stomped away, it’s full form hidden by the giant redwoods which swayed as it moved past.

“Sorry about that.” Ford turned to him and put down the megaphone. “Steve seems to have some kind of problem with cars. He wrecked mine before this cabin was even finished, and I’ve had to chase him off from Fiddleford’s truck a few times. You might want to park a little closer to the house, he’ll only reach so far out into the clearing.”

Stan just stared at his brother, mouth agape.

“Steve?” He finally groaned incredulously.

“He acts like a Steve!” Ford said defensively.

***

After Stan moved his car so close to the house you couldn’t even open the passenger-side doors, they moved on to the next invention Ford wanted to test. The two of them climbed a ladder in the library to the roof, then scaled the steep wooden shingles to the highest peak. 

It was an easy climb for Stan, with his ability to stick to walls, but he was impressed by how at-ease Ford seemed up here with just his boots and his sense of balance.

Ford helped Stan put on a pair of strange gauntlets, made of a bulky, segmented wrist strap and a sort of button on a stick that rested just above Stan's palm.

“So, you hold down the paddle here,” Ford pointed to the button thingy that extended over Stan’s palm from the gauntlet thingy around his wrist. “to release the pressurized fluid. The stream will solidify into a sticky fiber ten times stronger and lighter than a steel cable. It’s the same basic principle they use to make nylon, but with an even more robust substance. You just swing it out towards whatever surface you want to use as an anchor, then once it’s stuck, jump up and swing forward. Double-tap to release the fiber, and repeat. When the fluid runs out, hold down on the cartridge,” He pointed to where the cartridge slotted into the wrist gauntlet thingy, “And it’ll pop out. Then turn the wrist strap to the next compartment with a new cartridge.”

“Uh, ok…” Stan nodded, looking over the strange device. He thought he understood what to do. 

He took aim at a sturdy looking tree that towered above their perch on the roof of Ford’s cabin. A stream of white goo shot out, quickly weaving itself into a chord of spider silk as it sailed through the air and finally found its target. Stan gave the chord an experimental tug, making sure it was secured to the branch. It held firm.

“Now, the real trick it to pick out a second anchor, take aim with the second web-shooter, and secure a second line while swinging from the first line.” Ford continued.

“Are you even sure the first line will hold me?” Stan asked nervously. He’d mostly gotten over his fear of heights when he gained the ability to stick to walls, but the woods didn’t leave him a lot of options to catch his fall.

“Absolutely. I already tested it out when I first developed this technology.” Ford assured his brother. “I just never got past the first swing because… well, I completely tore my arm out of its socket.”

Stan stared at his brother incredulously. “It’s a good thing I found you before you killed yourself.”

“I was fine! I was wearing an amulet that grants the wearer telekinetic powers, so I caught myself before I hit the ground!” Ford bristled defensively. “And technically, I found you.”

“Whatever. It’s still a miracle you’ve survived this long on your own.” Stan rolled his eyes.

“I wasn’t on my own--”

“McGucket told me you only called him out here a few weeks ago.”

“Well yes, but I…” Ford trailed off. Stan could see he was having an internal argument of some sort. He didn't even notice when Stan gave a start as that strange, twinging version of his spider-sense returned. 

This was the first time Stan had ever felt it during the day before, and as he tried to concentrate on the sensation, he was more sure than ever that it had some connection to his brother. Something was wrong with Ford. No, not wrong with Ford. Something wrong was happening to Ford. 

But just as soon as he’d noticed it, it passed, and the next thing Ford said threw him off so much, he forgot about his spider-sense for a time.

“I’m not the only one who’s lucky to have survived so long on my own.” Ford said, casting his gaze downward. “I… I’m sorry I didn’t believe you before, when you told me my specimen had bitten you, and that it was affecting you. I can’t imagine what undergoing that kind of genetic mutation on your own must have been like. You could have died!”

“...Oh…” Stan squeaked. He didn’t know how else to react. He’d never felt like he could have died, not from the spider powers showing up, anyway. There had been plenty of times he’d gotten himself into trouble with the mob or creditors or gangs and he’d felt like he could have died, only to discover a useful new ability. Like sticking to walls when he was pushed off a building, or superhuman strength when he broke himself out of a locked trunk, or inhuman agility when he’d literally dodged a bullet. 

“In my defense, you weren’t being sympathetic to my ruined science fair project at all.” Ford continued. “It really did seem to me like you were just being a massive jerk and trying to worm your way out of taking responsibility like you always do.” 

“Wow, you are terrible at apologizing, you know that?” Stan grunted. 

It was Ford’s turn to roll his eyes. “Nevermind. Let’s just test these web shooters out already.” he said flusteredly. 

This unexpected apology caught Stan off guard. He'd volunteered to come out here and be a guinea pig in exchange for room and board. Stan didn’t really mind; it gave him an excuse to stay and… keep an eye on Ford. Yeah. Nobody could deny the nerd needed looking after. Stan certainly didn’t have illusions that things could ever go back to the way things were between them before. No way. He definitely wasn’t getting his hopes up. No one could prove anything. 

Eager to leave this awkward conversation and his conflicted feelings behind, Stan jumped off the roof, swinging on the chord. It felt great, like being a kid on a rope-swing again. As he felt himself swing to the opposite end of his human pendulum, he looked around for another good tree branch to anchor from. It was like his spider-sense slowed down time as he found a target, took aim, fired the second web shooter and released the first line, all in a fraction of a second. For just a heartbeat, he was weightless, before swinging forward on the second line. This was fun! It was hard to be worried or upset about anything when he was swinging through the trees like Tarzan. 

He managed to reach the outskirts of town in just a fraction of the time it took to walk, and nearly as fast as it did to drive. Stan figured he could get there even faster than driving with enough practice. He enjoyed the view at the top of the old bell tower for a moment, then swung back to Ford’s cabin.

The nerd looked like their birthday had come early when Stan got back. “That test-run went better than I could have hoped! How far did you go?”

“To the old bell tower in town and back.”

“Really? In that short a time?” Ford pulled out his journal and started writing excitedly. “And you never slipped, or ran into anything? The line never broke or detached?”

“Nope. I almost hit a few trees but I always changed course in time.”

“Incredible!” Ford grinned. “Let me see the fluid cartridge, how much did it use?” He grabbed Stan’s wrists and popped out the cartridges without waiting for Stan to answer. “How many lines would you say you used, round trip?”

“Uh, I dunno… maybe ten? Twelve?” Stan guessed. He hadn’t known he was supposed to keep track. 

“Hmm… and only used about a fifth of the fluid in the cartridge. Good to know.” Ford jotted the info into his Journal, then snapped it shut. “Fiddleford is going to be so excited to hear this when he gets back! Oh, and it's going to make salvaging parts so much easier!”

Stan raised an eyebrow. He’d used his powers for his fair share of ‘salvaging’, but somehow he doubted that was the same thing his brother was talking about now. “What kind of salvaging are we talking here?”

Ford got that insufferable ‘I know something you don’t’ look on his face. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Ford I literally have super-powers from a radioactive spider. Try me.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

***

They spent a few hours out on the roof, testing out the web shooters. How much fluid did one line use? How many lines did it take to travel a mile? How far could he swing on just one line? Did it take more lines to make a sharp turn? How fast could he travel?

Stan was pretty sure Ford would’ve had him out there all night, swinging back and forth between the forest and the cabin, if not for an incident in the late afternoon. Stan was trying to beat his time from the cabin to the main road when he picked out a branch to anchor from just within sight of the roof. He’d just released his previous line and was about to line up another anchor when he heard a sharp crack. He felt more than saw the dead branch he was anchored to break. He panicked, and instead of thinking to fire the second web shooter and create another secure line, all he could think of was grabbing onto a branch, or a ledge, or a wall, or something to catch his fall. He must have fallen at least 15 feet before he finally stuck to the upper limb of a giant sequoia. Immediately, he hugged it like a life preserver.

“Are you ok?” He heard Ford shout from the roof, witness to the entire embarrassing snafu. 

“Fine!” Stan yelled back, his heart still beating a rapid drum solo in his chest. 

“I think that’s our sign to stop for the day.” Ford hollered.

Stan didn’t need to be told twice. As much as he had enjoyed himself with the web shooters, this near-accident showed he wasn’t exactly a natural at it. He’d probably do a bit more practice a little closer to the ground before trying that again. Perhaps he wasn’t completely over his fear of heights after all.

***

After yet another canned dinner, Ford brought out the last shelved invention from the storage room. To Stan’s untrained eyes, it looked like several rolls of stretchy, colorful fabric.

“Something tells me these aren’t just to add some accents to your wardrobe.” 

“No. It’s an extremely durable fabric. I ruined one too many sweaters while out doing field work, so I developed something that’s water-proof, tear-resistant, protects from abrasions, keeps warm, and most importantly, doesn’t get burrs or stickers caught on it.”

“So, what? You want me to see if I can tear it with my super strength?”

“Well, yes. But also…” Ford paused to collect his thoughts, thinking about how to word what he wanted to say. “I think it could improve your costume.”

Stan blinked. “What’s my costume got to do with anything?”

Ford sighed, looking anywhere but at his brother. How to word this? “I want to help you.”

“I thought that was the whole point of me comin’ out here.”

“No. Well, yes, but specifically… Stan, you’re a hero, don’t get me wrong, you’ve saved so many people, but I know you could do even more with some help.” He finally looked his brother in the eye. “I want to help you be a better crime-fighter.”

Stan broke the eye contact almost immediately. “Uh, Ford, I can’t believe you haven’t already pieced this together yet, but… I’m not really a crime fighter.”

“Not technically, no, and chances are you’ll never be officially sanctioned or acknowledged by law enforcement, but that doesn’t make you any less of a hero. And that’s why I want to help you! You could finally have cutting-edge technology at your disposal!”

“I’m not a hero, ok?” Stan finally burst out. “I never set out to be one, and you of all people should know I don’t act like one.”

“But… but all those people you saved!” Ford protested. “I’ve read the articles! The eye witness accounts!”

“Sure, I may have been in the right place at the right time, and if I saw people needed help, I helped them. That’s just what decent people do, genius! It doesn’t make me a hero! I’m sorry a bunch of nerds blew things out of proportion and made you think I was one.

"The truth is, I've mostly been using my powers to steal. Money. Food. Jewelry. Clothes. Money. Whatever I needed to take care of myself. All those people I threw in jail? Folks I owed money. Enemies I wanted off my back. That's not the kind of stuff a hero does."

At first Ford's only reaction was a blank stare. He was taking a while to process this new information. For all these years he'd had a vision of what he expected the Spider Man to be like, and now, twice in one week, those expectations had been turned on their head. Finally, he collected his thoughts.

"You may have done what you had to to survive. You may have been taking advantage of your powers. But with that power comes a responsibility to use it for good!"

Stan rolled his eyes. "Responsibility? Yeah, right! Like I owe the world anything! The way I see it, these powers are the least the universe could do for me after all the ways life has screwed me over!"

Ford opened his mouth like he was going to argue, but after a moment's pause, he just sighed and shook his head. "Don't you see, Stanley? You've already made a difference in the lives of the people you saved. Hundreds of people already see you as a hero. Why not embrace it?"

"What do you care!?" Stan huffed. "You just wanna play the hero like when we were kids, don't you? Only if you can't be the hero yourself, you'll just live the dream through me."

“Is that what you think?” Ford shook his head sadly, “You just don’t get it.” He trudged back down the stairs to the storage room, the colorful bolts of fabric under his arm.

***

That night, Bill returned to Ford’s dreams. The researcher was getting used to his muse showing up almost every night now. He was also getting used to the otherworldly being’s impatience. 

“WOW, FOUR-EYES REALLY DID YOU A FAVOR, LEAVING YOU ALONE WITH YOUR DEADBEAT BROTHER, HUH?”

“I know you’re being sarcastic, but this is the first time I’ve felt at home with Stan since we found him in Portland. In years, actually. While I still wish Fiddleford didn’t feel the need to lie to me about it, I think him leaving for a few days was the right choice. Yes, things are still… fragile,” Ford admitted, as he thought back to their argument earlier after dinner, “But our relationship now is better than it’s been for over a decade, and I’m hopeful it will continue to improve.”

“OH, I’M GLAD YOU’RE HOPEFUL ABOUT THAT. ONE MORE SHORT-LIVED HUMAN FAMILIAL BOND RESTORED, WOO-HOO.” Bill rolled his single eye, and then signed “IT JUST SEEMS LIKE SUCH A WASTE FOR SUCH INCREDIBLE POWERS TO GO TO A GUY WHO’D RATHER USE THEM FOR HIMSELF.”

“It’s... unfortunate, yes.” Ford agreed, his annoyance at his brother resurfacing, “But not entirely unexpected from Stanley. At least he’s used his powers to help people in need when he crossed paths with them.”

“STILL, YOU COULD BE A WAY BETTER HERO THAN HIM! I MIGHT BE ABLE TO HELP YOU THERE.” 

“Thank you, Bill, but no. Despite what my brother thinks, I’m really not interested in becoming a super hero myself. I’d much rather be recognized for my scientific accomplishments.”

Bill shrugged. “ALRIGHT, BUT IF YOU CHANGE YOUR MIND, I’LL BE RIGHT HERE WAITING TO MAKE IT HAPPEN!”

***

Stan wanted to scream into his pillow when the twinging, unusual version of his spider sense returned late that night. Sure enough, if he concentrated, he could tell it was strongest in the direction of his brother’s bedroom. But then, Stan got an idea. Those goggles from earlier! They’d helped him see some weird stuff out in the woods, maybe they’d give him a clue as to what was going on with Ford.

So he crept out of bed, down to the storage room to retrieve the goggles, and then into Ford’s room. Stan barely stifled a gasp when he put them on. A halo of sickly yellow was radiating from Ford’s head. That definitely hadn’t been there this morning. 

This time, Stan just sat there and watched. Every other time he’d felt this sensation it had come and gone in just a few minutes, maybe even seconds, but this time he was going to really pay attention and figure out what it was, and where it was coming from. What Stan figured out was, of course, really weird. Whatever it was, it seemed to be coming from everywhere, but it all converged on one point: Ford. That’s why Stan had such a hard time pinpointing it that first night, and it was why it had seemed to be coming from Ford all the times he’d felt it before.

After twenty minutes of watching and just trying to familiarize himself with the sensation of this peculiar spider sense, something finally happened. The yellow halo surrounding Ford’s head shifted, and the ghostly silhouette of a triangle appeared. It had a single, slitted eye, just like all those freaky effigies Ford had all around the house, and in the split second before it disappeared, it looked straight at Stan.

“... What the H?” Stan exclaimed under his breath.

****

XSYO BUOL KAQQZVFIGKL BTMOUF. ECG O VIZ APFX ZQGN BB. U QJUUW VRKW BA PBM YRE SUK I NMU WS L ENTM BA GBHPK BUOL JUK NOPNMEKE. 

[jedifighterpilot2727]

The Rook

After Lex reveals Kara's secret identity, Lena thinks she's fine - until she's not. The one person she trusted implicitly has betrayed her trust, and she doesn't know if she'll ever be able to believe in people again.

It's a tough lesson, but some things you just can't live without.

AKA - the angsty post S4 fic where Lena experiences heartbreak and anger as well as discovers the meaning of true love.

"I don't want to kill Supergirl, I just want her to experience the same hurt she inflicted on me."

*Hides behind rock* I know, it's been like 5 months, and I'm sorry! The book is still chugging along, but after seeing the SG trailer at SDCC I had to write something! Cue angst, heartbreak and devastating loss (with a happy ending of course!) Buckle in y'all, it's gonna get worse before it gets better!

Oh! and every chapter has a song to fit the mood! First up is "Nothing Breaks Like a Heart" by Mark Ronson and Miley Cyrus.

Nothing Breaks Like a Heart

Numb.

Lena’s not exactly sure how else to describe it.

The feeling in her chest that spreads out to her finger tips, the heavy, sinking feeling that makes her feel like she drowning.

She not unfamiliar with the feeling.

Quite the opposite, actually.

She’s spent the majority of her life near suffocation from the choking feelings of inadequacy and betrayal.

Practically from the start of her time with the Luthors, she’d been judged and ridiculed and left on the outskirts.

Maybe not overtly, but certainly purposefully.

She knows without a doubt that Lilian orchestrated most of her young life in order to maximize feelings of ‘less than’.

Whatever she had done to gain the Luthor Matron’s ire had occurred long before she set foot in the Luthor Mansion.

Regardless, of the reason, she dealt with the consequences for years - long days at various different lessons, Irish boarding school, hard pressure to get early acceptance into MIT. Even once she had graduated and was doing ground breaking experimental work with Jack, Lilian’s glare was a constant presence over her shoulder.

It became even worse once she took over L Corp - doubly so. Nothing she ever did lived up to Lex’s legend, and she certainly never bowed to the Luthor agenda.

She had finally caved to Lilian’s pressure, hoping to do something to gain her mother’s approval -  an alien detection device, one that would allow regular citizens to tell if the people they were interacting with aliens disguised as humans.

She was so confident that the device would win over Lilian’s good will, that she would finally live up to the Luthor name, (without being a murdering psychopath).

But then, something had happened, something that had made her realize that maybe she didn’t need to toe the line of xenophobia to gain the approval she was seeking.

Her entire world had turned upside down the day that Kara Danvers had walked in her office, offering a kind rebuke at the alien detection device.

Suddenly, her entire world had shifted.

Her desire for Lilian’s approval wasn’t gone, but now it paled in comparison to the need for Kara’s. (Maybe that was a stupid reason to nix a million dollar project and piss off investors, but it sounds better that saying a pretty girl made her do it.)

And unlike Lilian’s approval, Kara’s was easily given.

Nearly anything she did was met with unwavering approval, and unfaltering enthusiasm.

It was like crack, honestly, having someone who supported her and believed in her like Kara. Every time something came up that she thought would finally shake Kara’s trust, it backfired in the exact opposite direction.

Evidence shows that she’s stealing Kryptonite?

Kara stands up for her.

Evidence shows that she’s poisoning little kids?

Kara stands up for her.

Even when she hides Sam’s condition from Kara’s . . . friend, Supergirl -

Kara stands up for her.

It’s intoxicating, and it has nothing to do with Kara’s perfect hair and beautiful smile.

it has nothing to do with how Kara brings her donuts during Lilian’s trial.

It has nothing to do with how she always smiles at Lena, even in the face of Supergirl’s disapproving pout.

And it definitely has nothing to do with the way Kara smells when she wraps an arm around Lena and solemnly promises to always be there for her.

It’s just nice, to be supported and believed in for once in her life.

It’s even more nice to have a self-proclaimed best friend that stands by her no matter what

(It does help that Lena has a huge, gigantic, undeniable crush on said best friend.)

But it’s not like she can say anything.

There’s no way that sweet, charming, beautiful, sometimes trips over her own words Kara would ever feel the same way about Lena.

It’s a statistical improbability,

Which is exactly why Lena suffers through lunches and game nights and a few too close to be just friendly hugs.

Kara’s friendship is enough, she shouldn’t want more. Kara is already so much better than anything she ever dreamed of having, she isn’t going to risk what they have by confessing something as inconvenient as feelings.

So she shoves her feelings away in a little box, and refuses to acknowledge them. Just like she refuses to acknowledge that her best friend looks a lot like the girl of steel.

She over compensates, almost to the point of hilarity; pushing Kara behind her in dangerous situations, insisting on being mad at her alter ego while still cozying up to her favorite reporter.

It’s stupid, but it somehow works in her brain. Allows her to ignore the fact that her best friend in the entire universe is also maybe, sort of, definitely Supergirl.

(It also allows her to ignore that Kara hasn’t told her said fact.)

It hurts, in a weird way, knowing that Kara is keeping something so important from her. But just like the facts, she puts that in a little box and ignores it too.

At least, until it all comes crashing down.

Lex, the goddamn bastard, couldn’t be good for anything, not even in death.

And if Lena feels like shit for thinking such a thing, she feels even worse knowing that what he’s telling her is true.

All of her little boxes come flying open, and they refuse to be closed again, no matter how hard she tries.

Kara’s identity, all the feelings of inadequacy and rejection, her burning desire for belonging and family - all of it comes rushing to the surface.

She tries to fight it, she does, but it feels unavoidable as it all comes crashing down around her.

Kara, her best friend, is Supergirl.

She was blind not to see it before, really.

She blames it on the little boxes.

Now though, she can’t deny it.

Kara is Supergirl.

And it hurts, somewhere deep in her chest.

Some part of her recognizes it as those feelings of inadequacy and unbelonging that belong to Lilian. Only now it’s her best friend making her feel that way. The person that promised to always be in her corner and have her back.

It’s almost debilitating.

She tries so hard to shove that in a little box too, but it doesn’t work. If anything, it backfires.

 ”You're with me, right?” Kara asks her on game night, and Lena stamps a foot down on the little box threatening to fly open - bile biting at the back of her throat.

“Always.”

* - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It all comes crashing down a week later when Kara finally confronts her.

“Lena?” Kara asks, and Lena freezes, sensing the trepidation in her voice.

“No, you don’t have anything in your teeth.” She teases, trying to belay the way her heart rate doubles.

“No, I know, I just . . . “

“What?” Lena asks, voice calm but her heart racing.

“i just . . . I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I never really had the chance. Well, I mean I did, but Alex said . . . What I’m trying to say is -“

“Don’t.” Lena tells her, surprised at the firmness in her voice.

“Lena, I have to . . .”

Their eyes lock, and Lena shivers. So much for little boxes.

“I’m . . .” Kara reaches for her glasses.

“Kara . . .”

“I’m Supergirl.” Kara finishes weakly, her hands trembling as they lower her glasses to her side.

“Kara.” she chokes out. “Don’t.”

“Lena - “ Kara starts to explain, but Lena ignores her.

Kara looks so incredibly sad, eyes welling up with tears and the muscles in her neck trembling.

“I know. I know all about your little secret.” Lena swallows hard, fighting back the tears. “You know why? Because Lex told me. I didn’t get to find out from you, or Alex; no, I got to find out from my homicidal brother. I suppose I was stupid for not seeing it before - naive to think that the most important person in my life wouldn’t hide something like that from me. I guess I was wrong, I’m just a fool.” She bites out the words, putting as much of her frustration into them as she can.

She may not be able to hurt Kara physically, but emotionally?

After a lifetime of living with Lilian?

That she can do.

“Lena, I didn’t do it to hurt you -“

“Really?” Lena scoffs, choking back tears. “Then why do I feel like you’ve taken a knife and stabbed it into my heart?”

Kara’s eyes look so full of remorse that Lena almost caves.

“I never meant to hurt you, that’s the last thing I wanted to do.”

“Oh, then what was your master plan? I’d love to hear it.”

“Lena . . .” Kara’s upper lip trembles.

“Literally everyone around you knew, except me.” Lena goads. “What exactly was your point? Other than to prove just how untrustworthy Luthors are?”

“No! I would never! Lena, I trust you more than anyone; maybe even more than Alex, that’s why I had to -“

“That’s why you had to lie to me?” Lena interjects, unwilling to let Kara finish her sentence.

“I didn’t want to lie to you!”

“Then why did you?!”

They stare at each other - an unstoppable force and an immovable object - the tension nearly crackling the air between them.  

Finally, the unstoppable force causes the object to move, and Kara speaks.

“Because when I first met you . . . you were . . . are the most beautiful woman I’d ever met.”

Lena’s heart jumps in her throat at Kara’s words, because surely she doesn’t mean them like that.

And I didn’t know if it was clouding my judgment, because Clark was so sure that you were just like your brother. But I refused to judge you on your family, and the next thing I knew, you were my best friend.” Her voice chokes off, and Lena forces herself to look away.

“You are my best friend,” Kara corrects herself. “And I didn’t want to screw it up. No one’s ever wanted to be my best friend before - besides Alex, I guess, and in the beginning that was only because she had to. But you,” she laughs softly. “you were so fiercely in my corner, about everything; being a reporter, CatCo, Mon-el being a jerk . . . I’ve never had anyone stand up for me like that. And I wanted to be the same for you, because you deserve it. “

“If I deserve you standing up for me, then why couldn’t you just tell me who you really are?”

“Because - “ Kara huffs. “Because, okay, maybe for the first few weeks I was worried that you might turn on me because of your brother. But then I . . . I was selfish. Because you were the only person that I could be 'just Kara' around. I didn’t have to worry about being Supergirl. And then, the longer it went on, I knew that I should tell you, I knew you would be so upset when you found out and I couldn’t stand to hurt you like that. . . . I was afraid that you’d never forgive me.”

“Why do you even care? I’m just a Luthor, right.”

She’s prodding Kara to a more direct answer, she knows it, but she never expects what comes out of the other woman’s mouth.

“Because I love you, okay?” Kara’s eyes fill with tears as Lena’s heart jumps in her throat.

"And maybe there was some part of me that hoped that I could keep bringing you lunch and you’d keep sending me flowers and maybe I could pretend that you love me too. And I’m sorry that I hurt you, and that you found out the way you did; just know that I would take it all back if I could. I would tell you myself, even if it meant you would hate me.”

“Kara . . . “ she knows deep down that she can never hate Kara, no matter how much she wants to. “You don’t get to say that you love me just to get me to stop being mad at you.”

“I’m not.” Kara vows fiercely. “But if we’re laying all our cards out on the table, I thought that you should know. I love your passion, I love your fire. I love the fact that you always stand up for what you think is right - even if it differs from what I think. I love that you throw yourself into your work, and I hate the fact that you forget to eat. I love that you pour your heart and soul into the children’s hospital and that you refuse to let anything stop that. I love how snuggly you get after a couple of glasses of wine, but I hate how self deprecating you get. I just want you to see you the way that I see you, and I was afraid that you knowing I’m Supergirl would hurt that. I guess I hoped that deep down, you loved me too. And I don’t know what my game plan was for that, or where I hoped we would end up -“

“Kara!” Lena chokes it out, barely able to keep the tears from falling down her cheeks.

“Lena, I just -“

“Don’t.” She says for the third time that night, desperate to stop the words coming from Kara’s mouth.

“I had to let you know how I felt, I know it’s bad timing, but I had to tell you the truth. I didn’t want it to be like this.”

Tears track down Kara’s face, but still, Lena stays strong, brushing past her and heading for the exit.

“Lena -“

It takes everything Lena has to ignore her, and move to the door.

* - - - - - - - -

Ever since Lex told her about Kara’s identity, she’s been in a fog.

She thought that it would get better once she had a chance to confront Kara.

What she didn’t expect was Kara’s . . . confession. It throws her for a loop, one she hadn’t seen coming in a million years. It should have made her ecstatic, it would have made her ecstatic in any other circumstance, but now it just leaves a sour taste in her mouth.

Of course Kara would pick the middle of her Supergirl reveal to spill out her heart, of course.

It fits so well with the Kara she knows and loves. That she would be so open and vulnerable that she would decide to lay her whole heart on the line.

Lena loves it, but she hates it.

Every part of her is screaming that Kara is just manipulating her, the same way she’s been manipulated for her entire life - bribed with love and affection.

She refuses to fall into the old trap again.

She is a strong independent woman, and she doesn’t need someone else to complete her.

And it’s true, she knows it’s true.

She doesn’t need anyone.

But it doesn’t help that she wants Kara.

She ignores every text, every call; she even tells Jess to revoke Kara’s unlimited access to her office (and she’s met with a giant frown and a questioning glare that she knows she’s going to have to answer to later).

But still, when her stomach growls sometime after one, she wishes that Kara’s smiling face was bopping through her door, waving a sack of takeout.

Even minus the lunches, she misses Kara.

Which is why she finds herself stretching and heading to her office door - maybe she can ask Jess to order food and convince her that it wouldn’t be weird to eat lunch with her boss.

Only when she asks Jess to order out, the other woman looks at her . . . strangely.

“What?”

“I uh, already ate.” Jess says almost guiltily.

“Oh. Did you happen to order anything for me?” Lena tries to sound as nonchalant as possible, but it still comes out almost whiney. Before Kara, Jess always made sure to order lunch for Lena, even if she knew she wouldn’t eat it.

“Uhh, I uhh, didn’t order out.”  Jess’ eyes flicker to the mini fridge under her desk.

“Oh, ok.” Lena lets it drop, obviously Jess doesn't it want to talk about it.

Maybe she has a new crush that brought her lunch and she isn’t ready to talk about it. Filing the information away for later, she shrugs.

“Could I get you to order me something then? Maybe an apple walnut salad from Noonan’s? I’ve been craving one lately.”

Jess’ eyes go back to the mini fridge, and Lena leans over the desk to stare at it as well.

“Is there something in there I should know about?” She asks, her mind immediately going to a bomb; and it’s so twisted that a bomb is the first thing she thinks of being stored in a mini fridge of all places, but it’s not the oddest -

“Kara!” Jess blurts, and Lena shifts her gaze back to her assistant.

“Kara’s in the mini fridge?”

“No.” Jess sighs. “Kara brought you lunch, and it’s in there. I know you said specifically that you didn’t want to see her or hear from her, so I didn’t want to tell you about it, but she insisted that I take it, and you know how persistent she can be!”

“So when you said you already ate . . .”

“She brought me broccoli cheddar soup, and you know that’s my favorite and I should have just ordered out but -“

“Jess - “ Lena placates her with a warm smile that’s only half forced. “Just because I’m not speaking to Kara doesn’t mean you can’t. Besides, it was broccoli cheddar soup.”

“Your lunch is still in there if you want it?” Jess offers, gesturing to the mini fridge.

“Oh, I’m not really that hungry, I forgot I had a big breakfast.” It’s a lie, she hasn’t eaten since lunch the day before; and her stomach quickly betrays her with loud growl.

Jess raises her eyebrows pointedly before reaching to the fridge and taking out a container and passing it to Lena.

It’s an apple walnut salad from Noonan’s, with a folded note taped to the front.

Of course.

“Really, I’ll just wait til dinner. . .” Lena protests weakly, her stomach fighting hard against her stubborn will.

“If she asks, I’ll tell her I threw it in the garbage and you never even saw it.”

Lena narrows her eyes.

“Fine, I’ll eat it, but if she asks, tell her you gave it to me and I threw it in the garbage.”

“Whatever you say, boss, whatever you say."

[rebeccathewinterqueen]

Awakening: Furious Battle pt 3

Title: Awakening (The Samaya Court Book 1)

Fandoms: Yu-Gi-Oh! and Pokemon

Characters: Yuugi Mutou, Yami Yuugi, Ushio, Katsuya Jounouchi

A/N: Hello from the new house! Spent all of yesterday moving in, so that’s why I didn’t post until now. Note on the chapter: This is a little experimental. Yami doesn’t have a name yet, so it felt inconsistent and weird to use it here. It’ll be a while before a) Yuugi even knows he exists and b) gives him a name. I tried to make it as clear as possible but I’m not sure how well it turned out, so feedback on it is very very welcome!

Read Chapter 2: Furious Battle pt 2 here

As soon as the final piece was slotted into place, the whole Puzzle began to glow. Yuugi gasped as his forehead burned white-hot. He tried to scream but it caught in his throat.

Shadowy blobs shot out of the eye in the center of the Puzzle and disappeared. The light filled his whole room, blinding him. It was all he could see. He couldn’t even cover his eyes because he was paralyzed, his hands locked around the Puzzle.

Then something hot and electric raced up his arms, and he blacked out.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

He had only ever known the darkness for so long, he couldn’t remember anything else. A world of reds and purples and blues so deep they were almost indistinguishable from the greys and black. A world where time was indistinguishable, where he only ever had the Shadows and his own thoughts for company, where gravity didn’t pull you to the ground but to whatever surface you happened to be nearest. Or, if he concentrated hard enough, whatever surface he wanted.

He remembered having friends, once. A whole team dedicated to…he wasn’t sure. Sometimes the shadows shifted and he could smell blood and smoke. But he could never remember his friends’ names, or what they looked like, or why someone was bleeding, or what caused the fire.

And then, for the first time since he entered this hell, he saw light.

He remembered light.

Light didn’t exist here.

His breath caught and he reached for it. With nothing in this world to use to gauge distance, it was only then he realized it was too far away. He ran toward it, trying to catch it. The light, the warmth, he hadn’t realized how much he needed it until then. The Shadows shot forward, wrapping around it, smothering it—no! He wouldn’t lose it!

His fingers finally brushed it, and it was like touching a star.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Once the burning sensation faded, he was able to open his eyes again.

And then he had to shut them again, because the light was too bright. He grimaced and squinted, waiting for his eyes to adjust. Once they had he was able to get a look around.

It was so…colorful. From the sea foam rug on the wooden floor, to the sky color of the desk, to the dark blue of the bedspread (but not as dark a blue as where he had been before) that was covered in soft-looking toys. Where was he? Why did everything look so different? He tried to remember how things had looked before, but all he could remember was the dark.

He knew he hadn’t always been in that dark place. He tried to cast back further, to before, and was met with a blank wall.

“Vee?”

He looked down. There was a small brown fluffy thing staring up at him with wide, innocent eyes. He felt like he should remember what it was, but it took so much effort to bring the word up.

“Eevee,” he finally whispered hoarsely. “That’s…what you are…”

It jumped onto the desk, butting its head imperiously against his hand until he released the Puzzle to pet it. He had been holding it so tightly it almost hurt when he let it go, but he was glad he did; the small creature was warm, soft. Living.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt anything like it. Before the Dark Place, he knew. When was that? He couldn’t remember.

He looked down at himself. His body felt so familiar, but also so very strange. His clothes felt strange, looked strange, like he had been subconsciously expecting to see something else there.

Something squirmed, an odd sensation that seemed settled in his chest. Next to his soul. Why…? His eyes widened.

The Dark Place. He had been in the Dark Place, until he saw the light. There had been no one else with him then.

There was another soul with him, connected to his. He drew on the Shadows, his only companions in the Dark Place, still nearby and willing to do whatever he wished, and closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, he was inside a different room—his soul room, he knew, though he couldn’t remember how or when he came across that information. Dark, except for the sickly glow of an eye on a door in front of him. He opened it and stepped into a hallway, better lit and made of rough stone blocks. The footing was uneven, but he managed not to trip as he followed it.

There was only one other door, wood like the one in the room he had been sitting in earlier. If that other room was his soul room, then this door would lead to whoever he was sharing space with. He needed to know, but the idea of just waltzing in made him cringe. The door was already partially open, thankfully, enough to see a bit of what was inside.

He could see enough of the room to realize it was almost a carbon copy of the room he had woken up in. There were more toys, the rug seemed a little fluffier, and it was definitely brighter and warmer. Very few shadows seemed to be in there. Paintings covered the walls, mostly of a boy who looked almost like him with an older man and a pretty middle-aged woman. Or, he thought they were paintings—they looked so realistic he almost thought they would move.

And there was the boy from the pictures, lying on the bed. The boy looked so similar to him they could have been brothers. And yet that idea felt wrong…

Something growled, and the boy shivered. He found his eyes drawn to the unnaturally dark space under the bed, where a pair of sickly green reptilian eyes peered. A worry or fear, he thought.

“Ushio-san…”

He started, wondering if he had woken the boy’s soul, but he was still asleep. The monster under the bed growled more deeply.

So, it’s name was Ushio. Not a name he recognized.

He backed out of the room and concentrated on waking up. If he was right, and he thought he was, this wasn’t his body, but the boy’s. Somehow he had ended up there.

The boy had rescued him from the Dark Place.

Maybe he could return the favor.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

The sky was cloudy, hiding the moon and stars and casting the place he had chosen in shadow. Not Shadows, not like the Dark Place, but enough that he felt almost at home.

Once he had realized it wasn’t his body, he had used the Shadows to find the boy’s last thoughts. They had been terror-filled and riddled with anxiety, all centered on this character, Ushio.

His lips lifted into a smirk. Ushio had demanded a ridiculous amount of money from his hikari, the boy who had rescued him—Yuugi, he had found out, while viewing the last few memories before his awakening. He had found it in his hikari’s school bag when he had gone to call the beast for their meeting, and while he knew it hadn’t been there before thanks to those memories, it gave him an idea.

If Ushio wanted the money, he would give the beast a chance at it. Hell, he would double it. He fanned the money out, using a touch of Shadow to duplicate it. It wasn’t a perfect illusion—it didn’t feel quite right and the colors were slightly off, but in the dark it was close enough.

The beast arrived at their meeting—he had chosen Yuugi’s school because it was close enough to get to quickly, far enough not to disturb his hikari’s family, and abandoned for the night, giving them privacy. He watched Ushio approach from his perch on some of the gym equipment that had been left out—being higher up felt natural—and then decided to draw his attention.

“Ushio.”

The beast’s eyes snapped to him, startled for a minute. His smirk deepened, and the Shadows crowed.

“Yuugi.” Well, apparently he still looked enough like his hikari to pass. Good. “You have some balls on you, don’t you? Calling me out here like this.” The DC president spread his hands. “Well, I’m here. You brought the money, didn’t you?”

He held it up. “I did.”

Ushio smirked and held a hand out. “Good boy. Now, give it here.”

The Shadows hissed their fury, but Ushio couldn’t hear them. He didn’t let his irritation show on his face. The beast would be dealt with shortly.

“But that’s so boring,” he sighed. He leaned back slightly, hooking his feet into the equipment to keep his balance, and held the money up. “Why don’t we play a game for it? I even brought double.”

“D-double?” Ushio was practically panting after it, and he was unable to contain his smirk at the predictable response.

“Double,” he repeated lightly. “Of course,” he said casually, “it’s not just any game. It would be a Shadow Game. If you win, you get the money, of course. If you lose, I keep the money. And if you cheat…” His face darkened. “If you cheat, you get a Penalty.”

“Sounds interesting. Alright, I accept.” Ushio smiled, an ugly look in his eyes. “I’ve never lost a game before.”

“Then let’s play. We just need one thing to begin.” He smirked back. “That knife of yours, Ushio.”

“Wha—?”

He waved his hand impatiently. “Your knife. I know you have it with you. We need it for the game, or we can’t play.”

Ushio eyed him warily, but pulled the knife from his jacket pocket anyway. “Alright, here it is. What are the rules?”

“So glad you asked.” He dropped to the ground, sitting next to a short platform used for—he squinted, Yuugi’s memories weren’t clear, something about jumping? It would work for a table, anyway. He placed the stack in the center. “We each take a stack of the bills and set it on the backs of one of our hands.” He demonstrated, then gestured for the knife. Ushio handed it to him. “Then you stab the bills with the knife to lift some off. However many you stab is how much of the money you keep, and whoever collects the most wins. We keep going until there are no more bills left.” He smiled slightly. “Of course, you must be careful not to stab your own hand. If you stab yourself, you lose. And the only rule to how many you can stab is that it must be more than one.”

“Dangerous. I like it.” Ushio sat with a grin. “You’re gutsier than I expected, Yuugi. If you acted like this more often, maybe you wouldn’t be bullied so much.”

He filed that information away for another time. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Game start.”

The Shadows crawled eagerly around their feet, though Ushio didn’t notice them at all. The beast was too busy watching him place the bills.

“I’ll go first,” he said mildly, picking up the knife. He bit his lip and pressed the point carefully against the bills, concentrating on not picking up too many and very aware of Ushio’s eyes on his face. One…two…three…that should be enough. He pulled the knife away, revealing the three bills he had speared.

“Harder than I thought it would be,” he said, plucking the paper from the knife. Really, why use paper money when metal was so much more durable? Too easy to destroy, he thought as he set the remaining money on the pile. Exactly how long had he been in the Dark Place?

“Ha! That’s all? Give me the knife.” Ushio snatched the blade away. “I’ll show you how a real man plays this game.”

“Do remember to be careful,” he reminded Ushio. “You don’t want to accidentally stab yourself.”

“Shut up,” Ushio snapped. He set a thick stack on the back of his hand and placed the tip against it. The beast pressed down, and the blade slid forward, gathering a much thicker stack of bills than his had been. Then Ushio picked up the knife triumphantly. “Ten! This isn’t a very hard game at all, you wimp.”

One of the Shadows scraped against the beast’s ankle. Ushio twitched, but otherwise didn’t seem to notice.

And so the game continued. After a while, he looked at the table. He had amassed a small stack of money, and the pile between them was almost gone. Most of it resided in Ushio’s stack.

Ushio laughed triumphantly. “I’m going to win!” He picked up the last of the money and placed it on the back of his hand, bringing the knife to bear. “I’ve already got almost all of it.”

He hummed noncommittally.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Ushio mocked. “You should be happy! I’m in such a good mood I won’t even beat you up for calling me out here at midnight.”

“How…kind.”

Ushio smirked and pressed the knife down. He knew all the beast had to do was leave at least one bill. The stack was small and wouldn’t require much pressure. But, to his delight, Ushio seemed to be having trouble.

“What’s the matter, Ushio?” he asked innocently. The beast’s arm was trembling, and Ushio seemed to be panicking, eyes wide, chest starting to heave. Only he could see the Shadow wrapped around the beast’s arm, a new green-tinted Shadow that had sprung from Ushio’s heart.

“Shut…up…” Ushio grunted. Sweating dripped down the side of his face.

“It seems,” he said, leaning forward thoughtfully, “that your head is at war with your heart.” Ushio glanced at him, then returned to glaring at his hand. “The point of this game is to master your greed, and you know that here,” he said, tapping his temple, “but here,” he tapped his heart, “you want the money too much.”

“I said SHUT UP!” Ushio pulled the knife away and swung it at his face. He dodged and fell back, landing in a less-than-graceful heap (a voice chided him, “Get up, you can do better than that…”). Ushio’s face twisted into an ugly snarl. “I’ll kill you,” the beast promised him, “and then all of it will be mine.”

He leaped up and snarled back. The Shadows rose, twisting around the beast like snakes, keeping him still. “If money is all you desire,” he hissed, “then money is all you shall see! Illusion of Avarice!”

A green-tinted Shadow rose and pressed against the beast’s eyes, momentarily hiding them from view. Ushio yelled, trying to free himself and unable to. Then he was still, and the Shadow finished crawling into him. For a moment afterward there was a “Y” with two lines through the bottom imprinted over his eyes. Then that, too, faded, and the Shadows let him go. Ushio fell face-first into the dirt.

He gathered the money, tucked it into a pocket, and waited for the beast to stir again before turning to leave. He didn’t look at the results, just listened to the yelp—“Money!”—and the crunch of a body hitting one of the leaf piles next to the track.

“I guess this counts for a happy ending for you after all,” he murmured, smirking. Then he sauntered home, the Shadows fading away.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Most of the trip was a blur. He vaguely remembered walking, placing the envelope of money back under the till for Yuugi’s grandfather to find later, and stumbling up the stairs, somehow avoiding waking everyone up in the process. He didn’t exactly have the wherewithal to be quiet.

He was panting by the time he made it to Yuugi’s room, shutting the door as quietly as he could behind himself and sliding to the floor, head and heart pounding.

That had taken more out of him than he expected.

“Eevee?” The small brown creature crawled into his lap, placed its front paws on his chest, and licked his cheek. He flinched slightly, still not used to real sensation, but he was more awake now.

“I’m…alright,” he tried to assure it. It looked at him doubtfully. “Just tired.” He wrapped his arms around it securely and stood. He needed to rest, but he refused to leave his hikari on the floor. He turned off the light, stumbled to the bed, and all but fell into it, letting the Eevee go and settling so he was on his back.

He almost didn’t want to sleep. What if he woke up in the Dark Place again?

His hikari had covered the ceiling with green glowing stars. It was soothing, especially when there was so little light coming from the window, reminding him he wasn’t in the Dark Place any more.

The Eevee snuggled against his side, a quiet living reminder. He wasn’t there anymore. His hikari had saved him. He would never return there again.

His eyes drifted shut.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Yuugi woke up with his alarm and stretched with a tremendous yawn. He felt like he hardly slept at all!

Something next to him wriggled and whined sleepily. He looked down. There was a brown ball of fluff curled into a tight ball next to his side, happily radiating heat. A toy? No, he decided numbly, watching it expand and contract. Toys didn’t breathe.

“Wha—?”

The fluff picked its head up, ears springing upright, and looked at him with deep brown eyes. “Vee?”

“Ah!” His yell startled the little creature, and they jumped away from each other. “What the hell?!”

It gave him a sad look. “Vee,” it whined piteously.

“You’re an Eevee!” It gave him an insulted look. “Eevees aren’t real!” They only existed in the Pokemon game! It was one of his favorite cards, he would recognize it anywhere, but it couldn’t be here in his room!

“Yuugi, is that you?” His doorknob turned.

He froze, then threw his blanket over the tiny creature, muffling its shocked cry. “I’m up, Kaa-san!”

His door opened. “On time today, I see,” she said approvingly. “Well, hurry and get ready, I’ll make breakfast.”

“Of course,” he said, grinning brightly, angling himself so he could block her view of the wriggling blanket. He breathed a sigh of relief when she left, then lifted the blanket. The Eevee stared at him balefully. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “but Kaa-san can’t see you, she would have a fit. How…how are you here?”

He crouched down to pet it—her, he corrected himself absently. She stood on her back paws and batted at his chest.

No, he realized, not his chest. The Millennium Puzzle. He frowned. He remembered solving it last night and passing out at his desk. Why was it around his neck? Where had he even gotten the cord from?

But most importantly, there hadn’t been an Eevee in his room then, either. Did that mean she had come from the Puzzle?

He remembered those shadows…

He scratched her behind one ear, listening to her purr. “I’ll figure out what’s going on,” he promised. “But I have to go to school first. I can’t bring you with me…” He bit his lip. “Will you stay here?”

The Eevee seemed to pout for a minute, then nodded.

“Alright…I’ll bring you breakfast before I leave. Hide if Kaa-san comes in, okay?”

Then he got ready for the day.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

He arrived school to see a crowd of students. Yuugi wandered over, curious in spite of himself—whatever it was would be a welcome distraction right now. He still had no idea what to do about Ushio except try to avoid him as much as possible—

—except it was Ushio everyone was staring at.

The older student was rolling in a pile of leaves and trash, laughing. “Money! Look at all this money!” he caroled. He tossed a handful of leaves in the air. “Mine! All mine!”

Ushio had cracked, Yuugi thought numbly. Students whispered around him.

“He thinks it’s money?”

“Ew, there’s trash in the leaves!”

“Gross…”

One of the Disciplinary Committee members crept forward, face unsure. “Ushio-san?”

Ushio pulled his knife and swiped at the other boy. “Get away from me! It’s mine, all mine!”

The student leapt back, and the crowd gasped. Yuugi flinched away, and one of the girls screamed.

“Someone call the police!”

“Ushio’s insane—!”

“—what the hell—”

“What’s going on out here?” a teacher demanded, pushing his way through the crowd. “Everyone get to class, we’ll handle this.”

Yuugi followed the others inside. What had happened to Ushio? He was completely delusional, but how could something like that happen overnight?

But something inside him still couldn’t help but relax. He didn’t have to worry about coming up with the money, or worry about Ushio knifing him behind the school. He just wished it wasn’t because of something like this.

“Yuugi.” He looked up. Jounouchi-kun was standing against a wall, his face covered in band-aids.

“Jounouchi-kun! Are you alright?” Yuugi asked.

The blond smiled at him. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. I’ve had worse. I…” He looked embarrassed for a moment, then took a breath. “I decided I would bring my treasure to school today, too. Wanna see?” Yuugi nodded, and Jounouchi grinned, all teeth. “Sorry, but you can’t. It’s…something you can show, but you can’t really see it.”

A riddle! Yuugi frowned thoughtfully, but he couldn’t think of an answer. He really should get more sleep…“I give,” he finally said, his lips quirking into a grin. “What is it?”

“Friendship,” Jounouchi said simply. He shrugged and looked away. “Friendship is something you show through your actions, but you can’t physically see it. And…” He looked up, his eyes showing a hint of something unknown, serious. “I hope we’re friends.”

“Of course we are, Jounouchi-kun,” Yuugi said seriously. He held up his Puzzle. “You brought the final piece. I couldn’t have finished this without you.”

Jounouchi looked relieved for a second, then flushed. “Gods, I can’t believe I said something so cheesy,” he muttered. “I…have to go, bye!”

Yuugi blinked as his new friend took off down the hallway, until something fell in front of him. He picked it up and dashed after him.

“Jounouchi-kun, your shoe!”

[borisbubbles]

Eurovision 2010s: 02 & 01

It’s here.When you’re reading this I’ll be safely tucked away on a vacay, but let me say, it’s been an intense two months. 408 write-ups, 408 desperate famewhore, 408 beautiful people (and Boggie.). 406 have been ranked and now it is time to reveal whom I think the best entry of them all is.So let us start with the runner-up, the also-ran the entry that ALMOST could’ve made it, but didn’t. 

02. Iveta Mukuchyan - “LoveWave” Armenia 2016

All-time ranking: #12 

Hey, it’s me. Look,

I know it might sound strange but suddenly I’m not the same I used be

it’s like I’ve stepped out of space and time and ~Come Alive~

When she touched us, the world went silent. Calm before the stormed reached us. The art in motion set off all sirens. She took over our heartbeat - beat - beat

IT’S TAKING OVER ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

God I should just stop quoting “LoveWave” but it’s stronger than myself. SHE SHOOK MY LIFE LIKE AN EARTHQUAKE YOUR FAVES COULD NE-E-VER HAVE! It, too, is a stunning masterpiece, a masterclass in seduction, an example of how everyone should tackle avant garde. Completely original- ok lmfao that isn’t true, the Aminata influence is pretty obvious here. However, unlike most other copycats, Iveta understood that imitation is best served as a form of flattery: in other words she took on a great formula and made it even better. If Aminata was the “Love Injection”, the Iveta is the “Fierceness Injection”.

or more like a LOVEwave

SPREADING LOVEWAVES AND MY HEART GOES BOOM-BA-BA-DOOM-WO-OH-OH. 

At the relatively small cost of a lesser vocal performance Iveta brought us a more unfiltered, more realistic, more intense exploration of what love actually does to somebody and the result is supereffective. 

“LoveWave” is edgy and dynamic beyond my wildest expectations. It absolutely shatters me from start to finish. It’s a thrilling rollercoaster that never slows down and the second you believe you’ve figured out this meandering song’s musical formula, there’s yet a new twist around the corner. Its layers unfold slowly, gracefully, beautifully like the budding rose. There is only one entry that can compete with it in terms of its innovativeness and that’s the winner of this ranking. 

ARMENIA

A country of high risk/high reward entries. Armenia isn’t always good, and they are in fact very often terrible. However, the moments when they are good are moments of undisputed slayage. The persistent coin flip of the Armenian selection is a very exciting ride and I always look forward to seeing what they have on offer, provided they can fix their staging problems. 

________________________________________________________________

and now the moment you’ve all been waiting for: the WINNER is none other than: 

01. Lena - “Taken by a stranger” Germany 2011

All-time ranking: #04

Let us start by noting that Lena is DEFENDING HER TITLE, and what a defence it is. 😍 I shan’t get ahead of myself, but know that 2011 Lena blows 2010 Lena completely out of the water. Gone are the days of constipated adorkability. This beautiful introverted cygnet finally transformed into a graceful, confidence black swan. 

Okay so... as it turns out, my bitching about German women and 2011 entries was only foreshadowing for the inevitable: my favourite song in this decade is the German entry from my least favourite year of the 2010s.  😂

Of course, the fact this daring and amazing entry was sent by a country which usually doesn’t do daring, in a year which otherwise doesn’t do amazing only further enhances the spice, but there actually a more rational reason for me ranking Lena first:  “Taken by a stranger” marks the first time, the first true time an avant garde entry was taken seriously in modern Eurovision. 

Remember what I said about the original source always being the best? We are here. “Avant-Garde Eurovision” is Lena City and we’re all living in it. Before “Taken by a stranger” novelty entries were either greeted with mockery (Silvia Night, Pas de deux, Divine, Visionary dream) or as flukes, anomalies within the system (Sanomi, Dancing Lasha Tumbai). Critics saw them as shallow gimmicks and little more.  

“Taken by a stranger” reinvented the way people look at experimental music and did it with great style. Lena proved that weird can be accessible, that quirky can be high-quality and that artistic can be enjoyed. She proved that ‘different’ has a place in Eurovision.

She also proved that giant condoms make perfect dancing costumes:

 Without Lena, we have no precedent for “LoveWave” or “Love Injected” or “Rhythm inside” or “Midnight Gold” or “Skeletons”. Without Lena laying the groundwork and being greeted with praise, some of the greastest, most innovative entries in Eurovision may have been brushed off like “Telemóveis” and “The Social Network Song” were.

Now, I understand that “Euphoria” arguably set the same precedent as “Taken by a stranger” did and that’s definitely a valid point. However two counterpoints: One: Loreen came after Lena and therefore only expanded on the foundation that Lena already had established the year before.  Two: I love “Euphoria” but each time anyone in my vicinity praises it for being unique, a masterpiece, ... a great... song I just *yawn* instantly becooome *yawn* soooo tiiiiiiired, :snore:. “Taken by a stranger” is the true unsung hero that shaped the contest in what it is today, and remember, unlike Dina Garipova I always reach out to those who need it the most.

However, that’s the theoretical backstory behind  “Stranger” winning my ranking, what about the practice? What about the live? Does it hold up to the placement I gave her?

The answer is a resounding YES. “Taken by a stranger” is a shining example of an excellent, near-flawless perfomance: Lena takes the microphone with mad confidence, gets absorbed by her song’s dark, psychedelic energy and delivers an A+ singing and miming effort. Her soul-piercing stares into the camera are chilling beyond the bones.

The story told here is immersive (the quirky beat), credible (Lena’s faces), humorous (dancing condoms) and entertaining (all of the above), all at once. It unfolds like a neo-noir audiobook. I can only think of a handful other entries that hit a similarly wide spectrum of great eurovision qualities with the same killer accuracy as Lena did, all of which (lovewave, euphoria, love injected, city lights, etc)  made it deep into the ranking.

Over the years, I’ve patiently waited to see if anyone could replace Lena as my favourite of the decade. Over the years many came close, but never were great enough to dethrone her. The act which came the closest was indeed Loreen, but with “Statements”, not “Euphoria” and we all know how that journey ended. Perhaps its for the better. In her two iconic stints Lena proved that both chartable hits AND avant garde novelties can be worthy Eurovision entries, paving the way for Eurovision’s renaissance into a contest everyone takes seriously again, which makes her, in my humble opinion, one of the most, if not the most, important people to ever participate in the Eurovision Song Contest. 

ALL HAIL THE DOWAGER EMPRESS OF THE 2010S:

Germany is the ultimate hit-or-miss nation. There isn’t a single country in the history of Eurovision that has ranked as often in my bottom 5 or top 5 as Germany has (T10/B10 for the semifinal era). I always either love or hate their entries (with the exception of Jamie-Lee). At the same time however, I am often frustrated by them. Their penchant to make the WRONG decisions out of a severely misguided sense of “tolle Klasse” is what causes them to often select utter garbage and it irks me because they are capable of undisputed greatness. Lena is the quintessential example of Germany at their peak and I both look forward and dread what the upcoming decade will provide. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ That concludes my ranking, I hope you’ve enjoyed it. 🤗 Since I started this endeavour my follower count almost doubled to 225-ish and BorisBubbles received 800 individual page views per day, roughly 20K per month. THANK you for all the support and for coming back to me. It means a lot and keeps me motivated to gladly return with more ranking material on the 1st of April 2020, when I hope we can kickstart the 2020s in great style. 

If you want to see the full list, free to consult the overall list on IMGUR or delve into the archives 

In the meantime, take care and we’ll hopefully see each other in April! 😘 Love, Boris. 

[gumnut-logic]

Alan

Okay, my brain was doing weird stuff tonight and wouldn’t write what I wanted to write. So we’ve got angst and a very odd and experimental present tense (something I never do). It is also the Marks WingsAU. I have no idea why I wrote this. I have zero control tonight thanks to a zombie brain. I hope you enjoy it anyway. ::hugs::  Oh, and despite the title of this fic, it isn’t all I’m going to write about Alan in this universe. We still haven’t seen him spread his wings. So there will be more at some point about Alan. Many thanks to all of you who have been commenting on my writing. It means so much to me ::hugs you all madly::

-o-o-o-

In the soft grey silence, nothing moves. Like the aftermath of an apocalypse everything is quiet. Even his bare footsteps on gravel can barely be heard and the mist prickles his skin. Cloud caressing, taunting cool amongst the warmth, condensing in his hair.

He needs the silence.

To listen.

Beyond reality, he feels two of his brothers. John, orderly, passionate, loving and starstruck. His colours of midnight blue, silver starlight and flame orange flicker on the edge of his mind, a quiet, worried hover wanting to intrude, but respecting Virgil’s need of solitude.

The other is burning magnesium sparking, contorting and bouncing about, splashing ripples all over their mindscape. Smooth, slippery and joyous, yet muted by the same concern haunting John. Gordon is aquamarine and sunshine wrapped in love, strengthened by steel.

And himself. He wonders how his brothers see him, what splashes of colour represent his presence. What they feel when they feel him.

He is the focus. The sensitive. The eldest of the three. He knows things.

But not enough.

Because where Scott and Alan reside in his mind, there is nothing. No sense, no knowing. No colour to turn to.

Scott is their leader and his best friend. His relationship with his older brother could not be stronger, yet he senses nothing.

Alan is his littlest brother. Of all of them the one needing the most care and protection, yet Virgil senses nothing.

Not even today. Not when it had been most needed.

The grey is suddenly not enough. He needs storm and lightning, the fury of the sky to compliment his mood. He needs an angry ocean. Mountainous waves crashing against a resolute shore.

He needs his brothers.

All of them.

-o-o-o-

Jakarta.

Earthquake.

Aftershock.

Virgil is running. Thighs strong yet not strong enough. His uniform rustling in the after silence. The after collapse. The after injury.

“ALAN!!”

He is screaming his brother’s name. The sixteen-year-old had been behind him.

Now he wasn’t.

He can’t see him.

John can’t get a signal.

“ALAN!!”

Nothing.

Rubble.

More rubble.

Backtrack.

His boots scuff in the dirt.

“ALAN!!”

Distant wailing.

Silence too close.

“ALAN!!”

Scott’s in his ear. John and Gordon are hovering on the edge of his thoughts, vibrating.

Please, Alan.

-o-o-o-

He is standing on the edge of the Island. The rock falls to the ocean abruptly and decisively, but the water is lost in the fog. Only the hissing of gentle waves against the cliff can be heard in the grey.

He reaches out, stretching as he had done today, searching, knowing he should be able to do this.

And failing.

There is nothing.

Why?

Why can’t he reach his little brother? Why can’t he be there for him?

A wash of reassurance wafts through from John.

Virgil shies away.

-o-o-o-

A hand.

A small blue gloved hand.

He finds his little brother under a building.

The hiss of his hydraulics moves mountains. Scott appears from nowhere and Virgil is reaching down, his own glove shed, fingers seeking movement.

There is life and Virgil breathes again, but there is also broken bones, injuries, bleeding.

A major disaster becomes a personal disaster and he is too close to the action.

His little brother is wrapped up and taken away.

Virgil can’t go with him.

The ground shudders under his feet.

Alan is safe, but so many are not.

The world blurs and Virgil goes back to work.

-o-o-o-

He wants to scream his brother’s name into the mist. So he does, teeth grating against the two syllables.

Gordon sparks at him.

John wraps him in a mental embrace.

The mist is disturbed by silent wings, a vast swath of silver grey camouflaged, and his eldest brother emerges to alight on the rock beside him.

The man’s hair is tossed, his blue eyes catching Virgil’s as bare feet brush against the basalt. Scott is wearing little more than cut-off jeans, giving his grey span, flecked with that same blue, all the freedom it needs.

No words, but the rustle of feathers as his brother’s wings fold. A sigh as he absorbs them into his silver mark.

Still nothing is said.

Two brothers standing on the edge of the Island facing the grey of nothing.

Virgil reaches out through the virtual desperate to touch.

Nothing.

Why?!

It’s a cry into that nothing.

John flinches.

Gordon snarls.

Virgil closes his eyes.

“He is going to be okay.”

Virgil doesn’t answer.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it was.”

A shift of bare feet on rock. “No, it wasn’t.”

“I should have paid more attention to what he was doing.”

“You can’t be everywhere.”

Eyes open and glaring at his brother. “I can at least be there for him.”

“You are! You were! He will recover.”

“If I had just-“

Scott is in his face, those blue eyes flashing with anger. “No, Virgil. You can’t be everything to everybody. It was his choice. It was a chance taken and it failed. You’ve done it yourself. He thought he could be in and out fast enough. He was wrong. He tried, but it didn’t work. It happens.” The glare intensified even more. “You’ve told me enough times.”

But this is Alan. He can’t say it out loud.

He must have emoted enough, because Gordon flares up in outrage.

Scott looks ready to crack. “Would you prefer he not attempt to save that little boy?!”

“No, I-“

“You would have done exactly the same thing.”

“I-“

“Admit it.”

“I-“

“Virgil!”

“Okay! Alan did the right thing. He saved that little boy. He was damned lucky they weren’t both killed. I...” A swallow. “I am damned proud of him. I just wish…” But he can’t say it. How can Scott understand?

“What?”

Virgil sighs and turns away.

Gordon is moving, determination bright and sharp.

Great.

“You better head back to Allie. Gordon is on his way to kick my ass.”

A sudden silence from his brother and Virgil looks up at the man.

Blue eyes frown at him. “Is this about your empathy thing with John and Gordon?”

“No.” It is about his lack of empathy with his other two brothers. How he can’t reach them when he is needed. How he can’t touch them.

A swirl of grey mists between them washing Scott’s expression out, disappearing him into the background. His brother is fading away from him. It is strangely appropriate to how he feels.

Without thinking he reaches out and grabs Scott’s hand as if desperate to stop him from vanishing. His brother frowns at him, but doesn’t pull away.

“Virgil, what is it?”

He presses his lips together and stares down at their hands. “I can’t feel you. I can’t find you. I searched for Allie; I did. I tried everything I could think of and I couldn’t find him.”

“You found him.”

“But how long did it take?! He could have died.”

“He could have died the moment the building collapsed.” It is sharp. It’s a slap. It is meant to be.

Scott’s eyes pin him. “I don’t have what you, John and Gordon have, Virgil, but I know...” The hand in his tightens. “I know what you mean to me. I know what I mean to you. And I know nothing will stand between either of us when needed. I don’t need telepathy to know that.”

Virgil is staring, something caught in his throat.

Scott’s voice softens. “Allie knows how much you love him, Virg. He knows you’d walk through hell and back if you had to and never doubt that he or any of your brothers would do the same for any of us.” Scott’s other hand lands on his shoulder and squeezes. “Never doubt.” A small smile brightening the grey. “I never have.”

“Never doubt.” It falls as a whisper from his lips.

Something sparkles in Scott’s eyes just as a swirl of mist and crunch of gravel reveals their aquanaut brother. A bounce and he has an awkward arm around Virgil shoulders, his presence emanating confidence, pride and...love. “Hey.” A nod at Scott. “Virg being stupid again?”

Scott’s lips twist into a smirk and his eyes sparkle. In that moment Virgil knows.

He knows.

He knows what his eldest brother is thinking.

He knows what he is feeling.

He still senses nothing.

But he knows.

An incoherent sound passes his lips and the smirk disappears from Scott’s expression to be replaced by a frown. “Virgil?”

He has the sudden urge to grab his brother in a hug.

A shove from behind and he is doing just that. Scott lets out an oomph, but wraps his arms around him.

Gordon’s laugh is a rain of bright sparks across his virtual space.

Virgil’s eyes are clenched shut and Scott is wheezing under his grip.

God.

-o-o-o-

His pencil scrapes across cartridge paper, the graphite leaving its smooth trail behind and forming another strand of hair. It flicks to a missed detail in an eye before skirting back to the hair, adjusting the forehead, an eyebrow, back to the misbehaving eye.

His drawing is smiling up at him.

It is in shades of grey. It holds no colour, but there is life.

Light sparks in its eyes.

The pencil flicks to and fro, finalising bits and pieces, upping the contrast, deepening the shadows. He switches to a stick of charcoal and the shadows go black.

As do his fingers.

“I hope you’re not getting that on my sheets.” And as much as he is smiling up from Virgil’s sketchbook, he is smiling at him from the bed beside.

“Hey, Allie. How are you feeling?”

“Been better. Leg’s aching and my ribs suck, but at least you’re not double anymore.”

“Good to hear.” Standing up, Virgil walks over to the trash bin and blows the charcoal dust from the page and closes the book.

“Hey, don’t I get to see?”

Virgil stares at him a moment before flicking the page open again and showing his little brother his sketch of Alan Tracy.

“Cool! You drew me?”

“I’m concerned about the question mark at the end of that sentence.”

“Hey, no, bring it closer. I wanna see.”

He can’t help but grin at Allie’s enthusiasm. His little brother is always fascinated by his drawings and Virgil can’t help but be encouraged by his compliments.

Alan takes the book carefully, almost reverently, from Virgil’s hands and peers at the drawing, his eyes following the lines of pencil. “I still don’t know how you do this. It’s me, but it is only pencil.”

Half a laugh. “I think the human brain is designed to grab those features and add life.”

“I don’t know.” He’s tilting the book and frowning in concentration. “I’ve seen stuff that doesn’t look anywhere near as good as yours.”

It warms him inside and he’s not afraid to admit it.

“Can I keep it?”

“Don’t you already have several of my drawings of you?”

“Maybe.” A puppy dog grin.

Virgil rolls his eyes. “Sorry, bro, this time no. This one’s for me.” It was. He wanted to keep the emotion that drew it, too.

Alan throws on a pout and Virgil can’t help but laugh.

“I dibs the next one.”

“Okay, your big toe it is.”

“My toe?”

“You didn’t specify a subject.”

“Viiiirgiiil.”

“Yes, little brother?”

Alan glares at him.

“Your left ear? I particularly like that subtle curve.”

“You suck.”

A snort. “Well, in that case I’ll caricature you and post it to social media for some instant infamy.”

“Do that and I’m telling Kayo about the toys.”

“What toys?”

“The Thunderbird Shadow plushie you have stashed in your studio.”

Another snort. “Kay gave that to me. Zero blackmail power, bro.”

“Does she know about the figurine?”

Virgil froze. “What figurine?”

“The one of Kayo.”

“What the hell have you been doing in my studio? Keep out of my studio, Alan.” That broke the rules. No one was allowed in his studio.

“Haven’t been in there. Didn’t know you had a figurine. Thanks for letting me know.”

“What?”

“Hah.”

Shit. Flippin’ Gordon’s protege.

“Aren’t you supposed to be sick or something? Do that sleeping thing.” He waves a careless hand in his brother’s direction. Alan grins up at him.

Virgil can’t help but smile back.

It takes a moment, but he forces the hesitation back and reaches out for his brother’s hand.

The same hand he found in the rubble.

He squeezes it just that touch harder.

Alan is eyeing him suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

“Connecting with my brother.”

The stare intensifies and Virgil can see the question of his sanity flickering behind those blue eyes. He smiles gently, but doesn’t let go. A frown flits across Alan’s brow, but his fingers curl around Virgil’s.

John hovers in query around the edges of his mind, a quiet starlit presence.

Gordon dances in swirls of sea green lit by sunlight, his laughter echoing.

Scott is all blue calm big brotherly love, a voice ever present.

Alan is golden shadows and an impish smile, life under his fingers.

All the colours of his brothers.

Not all sensed, but all there.

All of them.

-o-o-o-

FIN