#⸨ * MAIN ⸩ — i’m what you get when the stars collide.

[spiinsparks]

        SO  THERE  WAS  THIS  FUNNY  LITTLE  THING  about  ‘cyber  corruption’  that  made  things  a  little  bit  . . .  DIFFICULT.  an  asterisk  on  the  side  of  the  word  ,  or  that  ever-elusive  fine  print  at  the  bottom  of  the  page.  because  cyber  corruption  —  well  that  implied  a  sort  of  REPLACEMENT  of  what  was  with  something  foreign  and  unsafe.  (  tails  would  compare it  to  maybe  a  MALWARE  ,  of  sorts  ,  if  it  happened  to  one  of  his  gizmos.  )

           and  it  wasn’t  that.  not  really.  (  who'd  have  known  ?  hah.  SONIC  sure  hadn’t.  )

          it  was  more  like  a  funky  little  fog  of  not  really  knowing  WHERE  YOU’VE  BEEN  or  WHERE  YOU’RE  GOING.  and  it  wasn’t  all  THAT  bad.  could  be  great  even !  . . .  for  some  things.  it  wasn’t  every  day  that  ,  for  a  brief  moment  ,  you  got  to  experience  a  FIRST  TIME ,  twice!  but  there  were other  times  -  briefest  of  lapses  in  the  mind  every  so  often  ,  when  the  puzzle  pieces  didn’t  quite  fit  right  and  sonic  was  left  grappling  at  the  edges  for  a SIGN. 

         this  happened  to  be  ONE  OF  THOSE  TIMES  ,  as  sonic  dashed  into  tails’  workshop  and  skid  to  a  stop.  then  ,  reached  for  the  back  of  tails’  work  chair  and  spun  him  around  with  a  lopsided  grin  across  his  face.

       ❝  hey  buddy !  ❞  he  greeted  ,  laughing  ,  and  passing  his  hand  through  tails’  bangs. ❝  you  ready  to  head  out?  pretty  sure  the  ol’  tornado  is  calling  our  names.  ❞

@aeniqmata​ / //steeples fingers bc u asked for this e3e

[twiisted-king]

⊙ THE SPOT BF HC’s ⊙

➟ The Spot / Jonathan Ohnn X GN!Reader 🕳️

➟ NSFW / SFW ( he has such raw sex appeal )

➟ TW : Insecurities, Workplace Abuse, Body Image, SEX, & Murder :)

————————————————————————

⊙ PRE-COLLIDER

— Jonathan is PAINFULLY average.

— Sure his colleagues like him and he has a good standing with his superiors, But he just doesn’t have a lot going for him.

— Which is why he wonders why an angel like you loves him so much.

— He enjoys the domesticity of y’all’s relationship when he isn’t stuck at the lab or doing scientific research. Like make the man a nice home cooked meal and take a shower with him, it makes him happy beyond belief.

— He has quips. Jonathan just loves making you laugh and he’s actually pretty good at laughing at himself whenever he does something stupid. He knows you won’t judge him.

— Kind of obsessed? Besides work, you are all he thinks about and focuses on. He has plans for the future of your relationship ( MARRIAGE ).

— He’s the type of person to keep a picture of you on his desk.

— Adding onto the obsessed part, he can be possessive. I feel like that’s a given with him.

— Jonathan is insecure. He knows that there are a lot of more attractive, cooler people out there and he worries that he’ll fuck up one day and you’ll leave him. Please comfort him.

— Arguments are few and far between. He’s good at resolving whatever issues that may come up with good ol’ communication.

— He keeps you as far away from his work life as possible. He NEVER EVER wants you to get caught up in the messes that are his projects and he knows just how dangerous working with physics is. Plus Wilson Fisk might use you as leverage to get Jonathan to do what he wants.

— sex time boys :)

— You wanna have sex .. WITH HIM!? That’s kind of his instant reaction though he isn’t opposed.

— I don’t think he’s a virgin, But he’s not the most experienced. He might’ve had a few partners in college though that’s about it. I’m sure he had a few admirers at Alchemax though he was far too busy with working to care plus he had you.

— I don’t think he has a preference for who is dominant and submissive. If you want to edge him until he cries that’s cool! But he’s also chill with taking the lead and fucking you into submission.

— This man is PACKIN’. You can disagree with me all you want, But it’s always the dorky ones that have the most dick. He probably thought that he wasn’t big since he’s since all of these videos talking about how “ 6 inches isn’t big enough yadi yada “. So he was incredibly nervous taking his pants off the first time and he just sorta held his breath, waiting for a reaction of disappointment. He ended up being pleasantly surprised in the end of and was more than happy to shove his dick down your throat.

— His dick is skinnier than it is thick. Poor dude has an INCREDIBLY sensitive head and a prominent vein running up the underside of his shaft.

— Prefers positions where he can see your face. He thinks eyes are the windows to the soul and being able to focus on your expressions makes sex 100X more enjoyable.

— SIT ON THIS MANS FACE. Force him to take all of you inside his mouth and then ride his nose until you’re seeing stars.

— Jonathan let’s out the pathetic noises. He’ll whine, whimper, moan, etc.

————————————————————————

⊙ POST-COLLIDER

— honey, you’ve got a big storm comin’

— He becomes almost 1,000X more clingy and loving.

— He’s absolutely horrified at what happened to him and feels like he’s a burden to you now. He can’t even kiss you for god’s sake!

— Spot will get steal gifts for you in an effort to make up for having to date an idiot like him. He’s much more withdrawn and silent though he’s still prone to using humor as a coping skill.

— Once he realizes that you aren’t going to leave him is probably when he resorts to crime. He would never leave you as the main breadwinner no matter how much you can provide for y’all and will do whatever he can to make sure you are well cared for.

— He’ll never allow you to go out with him when he’s committing crimes. If you were to get hurt or worse ( ahem die ) he would probably never forgive himself.

— You are now his world and he must protect his world at all cost.

— He’s become even more obsessed with your face now that he doesn’t have a proper one. Kissing is a little awkward, But he still appreciates that you’re willing to be affectionate with him.

— You can be curious about his spots, But don’t expect him to let you go through one. It’s already difficult enough for him to control them and he doesn’t want to send you to a whole other universe.

— He has become much more confident as The Spot. He’ll make big risky choices and no longer wants to be a doormat. Arguments are still uncommon though he isn’t afraid to defend the crimes he commits because at the end of the day it’s all for you.

— Being a interdimensional criminal isn’t the most ideal job, But it all comes back to his love for you and don’t ever forget that.

— Has told you to “ Come check out his hole “ a couple of times whenever he figures out his powers, he is definitely aware of how dirty he makes it sound.

— time to get down and dirty in Jonathan’s holes :)

— For starters, he didn’t LOSE his dick it’s just kind of chilling in a void pocket. Go read Spotless on AO3, The Spot actually has a dick in that fic in a way that makes sense.

— He’s grateful you still want to be intimate with him. He can be a little awkward sometimes though he makes up for it.

— Becoming a supervillain has made this man an absolutely menace in bed. He’ll overstimulate and edge you to make sure you remember he isn’t just some lowlife scientist anymore.

— Jonathan’s rougher and manhandles you, forcing you into whatever position he wants.

— It’s a little silly if you imagine it with his regular voice ngl, BUT THE MEAN VOICE? oh my god.

— Repeats phrases like “ mine “ whenever he fucks you and let’s out this raspy little laugh whenever you tell him it’s too much.

— It’s a little pointless for you to pleasure him now so he solely focuses on you. Plus it’s a way for him to blow off steam after a fight with Miles.

— Could you have sex with one of his holes? Does he even feel pleasure anymore? I have many questions that I will ignore for the sake of fanfiction.

— Imagine getting choked by this dude?

— This motherfucker definitely still whimpers though as The Spot and you can’t tell me otherwise.

[lunarw0rks]

Old Bones | Chapter Five

Summary: After fleeing a toxic relationship, you fear for your safety and hire a bodyguard. He's masked, impassible, and damn good at what he does.

Warning(s): strong language, gore, violence, blood, mentions of guns, depictions of injuries

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: new hiding spot, or just an excuse for them to cuddle for warmth later?? you tell me ;) also, not proofread so don't mind grammar mistakes pls<3

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST // have a request? ♡¸.•*' ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ prev. chapter | next chapter | ao3 ver. | playlist ꒦꒷ O.B MASTERLIST

Metanoia

Simon’s eyes crinkled in defeat. It was a double-edged sword no matter what he said.

“You shouldn’t be out anywhere right now, you realize that?” He remained stiff as if that was going to stop you.

Weeks before, it was him shutting you down; stunning you into silence. The tables turned on that dynamic at about the fourth day—the fourth day of hunkering down in his disarranged apartment. Sure, the place was nice, the couch was cushy, and the view of the stars was quite literally out of this world.

However, the honeymoon phase of limited amenities had faded away, and you were on the verge of ending up in a padded room with a lifetime ticket clenched in your fist.

“Simon, if I don’t see some sunshine, I’m going to strangle you myself.” The sarcastic, jovial grin on your face remained, even after threatening to squeeze the life out of him.

And not to mention, that goddamn tea; seemingly the only beverage he had to drink aside from dodgy tap water. Every morning you’d sit there, sipping on it like you weren’t on the brink of throwing it all out. All while you do it, he’s drinking his own, letting out a ‘hmm’ like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

“Sunshine?” He asks rhetorically, eyes now squinting. “Go to the roof, wave your arms around, and absorb it. There’s your sunshine.”

Next thing you know, one of the pencils from his workspace is hurling toward his face. If you can’t get your enrichment time outside, you might as well find it in the little things.

His hand is out in record time, catching the pencil before it touches him. His head cocked downward slightly as if completely bored by your ‘efforts’ already. He tosses the pencil back onto the table, watching as it comes to a stop when it collides with your mug.

The rest of your face remained stoic, except for your lips, which have pursed into a displeased arch.

“Fucking hell…” he repines, this time under his breath.

The usual glare he gives in an attempt to end the argument has fallen void against your stubbornness, causing his posture to drop in defeat.

“One hour, and not a minute more.”

—

For the first time in weeks, you can finally stretch your limbs. Being planted in front of a television is enjoyable until the couch starts to memorize the shape of your hips—then it becomes downright depressing.

You’re pulling at the grass and rubbing the strands between your fingers, savoring the feeling of Earth below you, rather than a foam cushion. This was all you wanted and more. To enjoy the last few sunny days of autumn, before the entire city is covered in blankets of snow.

“You’ve got thirteen minutes left.” He’s either been looking at the ticking watch on his wrist, or around at the surroundings for threats. It’s no wonder he’s so miserable in the heat; he’s in his typical sauna of a black bomber jacket.

You reach for your bag and pull out a few bills, starting toward the vending machines. “Do you want something?”

Simon waves his hand, nearly rolling his eyes. Inside he’s probably cursing himself for saying an hour, instead of thirty minutes. But if he’s anything, he’s a man of his word.

When you return, you slide a can of soda across the top of the bench regardless. The can is swallowed by his large fist and stuffed into one of his bottomless pockets. He’d rather die than let you watch him enjoy the soda he refused.

You, on the other hand, feel like you’re drinking a delicacy; it’s practically by the time the one you bought him reaches his fist. Miles better than hard tap water, or the goddamn tea he buys.

Considering how far you’d wandered from the lot when you arrived, you take him standing as your cue to trek across the park. Instead of staying a few feet behind this time, Simon walks side by side, nearly causing you to walk halfway in the grass. He has no perception of how large he truly is or just doesn’t care to—either way is plausible to you.

Although his instincts told him not to let you come out here, deep inside he was savoring any moment he was not dodging a bullet, or reaching for his pistol.

Once you’ve reached the lot again, you’re peeking at his watch when it comes into view, watching as each second ticks away. He’s holding open the passenger door, leaning his hip against it in impatience.

“I still have two minutes of air.”

This time, the look in his eyes actually causes you to drop any further argument about to come out. Once he’s climbed inside the driver’s seat again, he makes a show of locking the doors right away.

Click.

He shifts the truck into drive, looking down at the gas icon, which is nearing empty. He grumbles something under his breath as if threatening the truck like a hostage who he’s finally fed up with. Simon pulls around and finds the nearest gas station, pulling up to the pump closest to the entrance.

You reach over to the buttons on your side, unlocking the doors when he parks. You’re determined to savor those two minutes you were denied.

He keeps his eyes on you as he begins pumping the gas, watching as you lean against the bed of the truck, nose in the air to spite him.

Once he returns the nozzle to the pump, he shuts the gas cap. “Stay by the truck.”

He’s gone inside to pay, and you’re relishing in the breeze blowing on you. Half of it is annoying him with punctuality, and the other is genuinely minding the freedom. You’re shielding the top of your field of vision as you peer up at the cerulean sky, for a few seconds forgetting about the horror show this endeavor has been.

The crinkle of a paper bag rips the tranquility out of your hands, snapping your vision to the man in front of you. He’s digging through the paper bag, unkempt brows tightened. Your posture straightens, and your hand is already on the revolver tucked in your waistband.

Although, it’s not a gun you’re greeted with, nor a weapon at all for that matter. It’s a box—a small, nicely embellished gift box—now outstretched to you.

“What is it?” You question, hand still resting on the grip of the pistol. His expression is as unsure as yours as if he isn’t privy to the details either.

As soon as you’ve gripped the box with your other hand, the man tosses the bag aside and begins walking back in the direction he came.

Simon noticed the man approach as he was collecting his change. His reflexes allowed him to tuck his wallet away, all while watching the encounter without breaking his glare. He takes the side route, going through the aisles so the clerk doesn’t notice how he’s reaching for his iron.

You’re holding the gift box, and the stranger has walked around the building, now out of Simon’s sight. Every bit of this put a sour taste in his mouth. More so the man he could no longer see, than the gift you were holding.

You’d thrown the box on the floor, scrambling back into the passenger seat. Your face had lost its blood flow from the shock of the gift’s contents, while Simon’s was turning red in agitation.

Instead of stuffed into a trunk, or spurting blood from a bullet wound, it's still you standing there; unscathed, confused, and peeling the lid off the arcane gift box.

Gold tissue paper to match the outside, paired with small sapphire confetti blowing away with the axis of the wind. You took one last look around the side of the building, where the man was still nowhere to be seen, then pulled back the paper.

You felt like you were going to squeeze the life out of the cardboard box at the sight of it. Your fingers felt clammy, and the tremble you’d finally gotten over had returned. It was the ring—the one you’d left behind several towns ago, hundreds of miles ago, and most of all the one you had to fight so hard to finally rid yourself of.

But yet there it was, glimmering in all its glory, tinkering from the sun rays just as it did during the outdoor reception Cal insisted on.

You shook your head visibly as if to physically rid your body of the vivid memories coming back to you, causing the box to tumble to the cement below you. Any semblance of survival instinct you had moments ago—the compulsion to search for any threats, had fizzled away the second you laid eyes on the salient diamond.

You climbed back inside the truck and locked the doors, finding the burner phone in your pocket. Simon had disappeared from the spot in front of the cashier counter, nowhere to be found. The jitter caused a few typos in your text, but you sent it in nonetheless. Your head hit the headrest behind you, as you were now white-knuckling your revolver, searching for any sign of a tail in the neighboring vehicles.

One thing was clear now—you were being surveillance again and probably watched the entirety of your hiding at Simon’s apartment. Cal had stepped up his game.

It was no longer gunmen, nor a petty attempt to corner you at the courthouse—it was mind games. The last play he had, was a futile attempt to break you without breaking the skin.

You could lie to yourself, and hide behind Simon, but once he was inside your head, he was winning the game.

His phone chimed in his pocket—the ringtone he’d picked for your SOS messages only. He wasn’t going to check it and be sure; he was going to find the bastard that brought the gift to you and get his answers. That was the only thing he was sure of right now.

He concealed the hold he had on his pistol with the flap of his jacket, exiting the gas station the way he came in. Simon snuck around his truck first, stuffing the ring into his pocket once he spotted it. Then, kept moving to meet the man around the other side.

Simon noticed the man within seconds; the back profile of him as he made his attempt at stealth. Skittish feet wearing sneakers a few sizes too big, stumbling as he looked over his shoulder constantly.

His hand clamped around the shoulder of the stranger, forcing him to whip around. Simon gave no attempt at a greeting, nor any negotiation. Simon pistol-whipped the captive with only a sliver of his strength, as to stun him, not crack his skull open—yet.

He merely dragged the man into the bathroom of the gas station—the only single stall left unoccupied. A grimy box with a toilet and sink, clearly accumulating the filth from years of no maintenance. To Simon, it was a perfect room for ‘conversation’ with the man—any knocks given, or screams of agony would be drowned out by the constant passing of eighteen-wheelers.

Simon shoved the meek captive against the door once he’d slammed it shut, gripping him by the t-shirt swallowing his wimpish body. He was much younger; youthful clothes, a dingy appearance, and widened eyes spilling over with alarm.

Not a plea in the book could phase Simon, or make him loosen his grip. Whether he was given specifics or not, he gave you something that unnerved you, he put you in harm’s way, even if only mentally.

“Who gave the order?” He spat, only giving the man mere seconds to reply. His mouth quivered, left agape like he was still too disoriented from the blow.

There was no time for negotiations, waiting, or pandering. That got him nowhere before.

Simon held onto the collar of his shirt and plummeted his head into the edge of the sink, each throw given with pure brute force. The impact echoed off the walls of the room—the deep thunk of a metal sink against a brittle skull. His brutish grip was the only sense of balance to the man, now sputtering as the crimson dripped from the exposed flesh on his forehead, all the way down to his neckline.

Patience was wavering as was the man’s ability to enunciate a single word. “Who…” Simon began, blinking away the splatter that found its way to his lashes, “...gave the order?” His tone was more of an inhumane growl.

“No idea,” the stranger’s eyes began to waver shut, as the blood trickling began to stain the whites of his eyes, “—just the money and a picture of her, I swear—”

Simon's umbrage only worsened at the sight of his cluelessness. He gave a few blows, each one causing a more audible snap; one on the cheekbone, then the jaw, and a final one on the bridge of his nose.

He released the now-soaked fabric, letting the man slump to the ground. His face was now nothing but a repulsive bundle of blood and bone. Simon looked down at his knuckles; spots where abrasions had swelled when the man’s bone sliced him, as well as the familiar, chronic stinging of a hairline fracture from his metacarpals down to the heel of his hand.

Rage didn’t blind him, nor did it control—he was solemnly aware of the carnage caused by his own fist. He was the one propelling each knock, every squeeze of the trigger, every trained maneuver.

The man was somehow still conscious after the beating, but unstirring as he croaked pleas for someone, anyone to find him. Simon tossed the ring into his lap, figuring that would be a sufficient message toward Cal—the crook he hired beaten to a pulp, while still clutching the item he failed to deliver.

It seemed like an eternity, how long Simon had disappeared into the back somewhere. And yet, no suspicious cars, no eyes watching you—no one to be suspicious of. The scene around you remained the same; a bustling gas station.

Each time you looked in the rearview mirror, you could see the crumpled box still laying on the pavement where you left it. The holographic diamond would bounce off the shine of a passing car, sometimes projecting the hue of it onto the mirror, like some sick hypnosis to further remind you of the past you thought was left behind.

When he returned, his shoulders were hunched forward in discomfort as he massaged his right fist. You could spot the stains on the pale skin of his eyes, as well as the ones seeping into the fabric of his mask.

You remained as still as the captive, refusing to look at his bloodied fists. He’d just tortured a man for you. Simon wasn’t going to patronize you, nor was he going to bother to hide the taints of what he did.

This was his job; his disquieting, gruesome job—one he carried out with regrettable necessity.

Simon went through his pockets, finding the cold soda you’d bought him, holding it against the bruising skin for a few minutes, until the flesh was iced enough to drive the next several hours.

“We’ll need to keep moving. Today.” You were already familiar with the routine; settle somewhere, bloodbath, keep moving. It was second nature by now. His words were just an attempt to cover a pained groan as his throbbing fingers wrapped around the steering wheel.

—

Straight out of a storybook, that’s how you’d describe the new hiding place.

A spacey cabin somewhere in the mountains, supposedly used by his old Task Force as a hideout at one point. Although, it was less military, and more like an abandoned ski lodge. Rather than the concern of not enough space, it was how much there was—especially when surrounded by acres of seclusion.

The wind got colder, more bitter with each passing day. The only saving grace was the books you’d already read over a few times since leaving home. The amusement would fade soon enough, just like it did when you were cooped up in Simon’s apartment for weeks on end. It was only a matter of time before another ambush, or another problem costing one, or both of you your lives. Cat and Mouse was a game that didn’t go very long; someone always gets caught—always.

Conversations remained cold and simple; a storm rolling in that night, if there was any hot water left, how long the latest ration run would last.

You’d lost sight of the end goal of this fighting.

The night you patched Simon’s wounds, it began to chip away at you slowly. Next, when he showed you that picture of him, there went another piece of your willingness. Then, the first time you began to put things behind you, it ended in more violence—and now you’re here—hiding in the middle of nowhere again, more desolate than any evening with Cal.

Simon is perched on one of the barstools, cleaning his personal arsenal of weapons. Something he seems to do daily now. His right hand is still bandaged—sloppily to put it lightly, since he insisted on doing it himself.

“How’s the hand?” You asked, not caring too much about the answer, you were just out of options. Talking to the wind only kept you entertained for so long, not to mention the bitterness of it whipping your skin the longer you stood out there.

“Fine.” His eyes only flick up once, then they return to the rag in his hands, scrubbing non-existent grime off his pistol. Truth is, he’d rather talk about anything but the hand, or anything to do with that day.

Your eyes carried down his long sleeves to the bandage again, picturing the bruising and gashes underneath, then the face of the man that caused it. “If that man looked like me,” you began, “would you have done that?”

His sore fingers came to a stop mid-scrub, something they’d been begging for him to do all afternoon. “I needed answers, don’t treat me like a barbarian.”

His deflection from the point was an answer in itself—an answer that made your hairs stand.

“Did you get what you needed?” You twisted the knife further, nearly mocking him by now, pressing a palm onto the countertop for support.

Simon could conceal his feelings all he wanted, but his microexpressions played out the story for you. He looked down at his hand again, probably thinking of the meaningless beating he’d given. It did little to nothing to protect you, that was unmistakable.

“I did what I had to do,” he declared, “you of all people should understand that.” Weeks before, those words might’ve eased the conflict brewing inside you. Today, it only added to it.

“Do you really believe that, Simon?” It was blatantly clear he didn’t. He was still stopped in his tracks, attempting to hide the gears turning in his head.

The pistol clattered onto the counter. He’d stopped his chore entirely. “If you’ve got something to say, you should say it.” His eyes roamed up and down again, searching for any semblance of hesitation showing.

The bullets, the stabbing, the bloodshed—the violence caused to stop the violence. How did this make any sense? At first, you believed you fit into this twisted puzzle somewhere, that the jagged edges would find their place and somehow the kinks would work themselves out.

“What the hell is the point of all this? Are we really any better than him?” You finally replied, looking at the fruitless landscape painted out the window.

“If you have to ask that question, you’re already better than him.” You were. Not him. This, he was used to, hell, meant for. But for you, there was still expectancy. That’s truly what Simon believed.

If it weren’t for the guilt swallowing you, you might’ve scoffed at his patronizing.

“I’m not so sure I believe that anymore, Simon.”

TAGLIST: @random-thot-generator @littleobsessionsandlifeslessons @illyanam1011 @stunkbiggu @bi-witch-bxtch @warm-milk-with-honey @xheera (if you're not tagged properly, it's not letting me)

[espinosaurusrexex]

The Trap - Introduction

Worlds Collide Collection

BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader apocalypse au

summary: Welcome to the apocalypse. This is the introduction to the new world you're about to enter. Let's see what your life is like. Do me a favor and be open, and maybe there'll even be a handsome stranger to meet...

a/n: so this is heavily influenced by The 100 and Love and Monsters and I guess also Maze Runner, if it seems chaotic at times, that’s because it is. With that being said: have fun reading i’d love to hear what you think 

word count: 2.2k

warnings: grumpy/sunshine, mentions of death and misery, loneliness, dystopia, nuclear weapon and monster stuff, obnoxiously optimistic reader (give her a chance okay)

collection playlist | main masterlist | collection masterlist

May 10th 2039

Hey Book,

Here are the things that happened today:

found a new pen (that’s great because this one is running out)

watched the acid fog from the building with the tall glass roof (pretty dope if you ask me!)

went to the west border and saw new tracks

finally got the nose right on that Gordon Ramsey sketch (it’s finished, yay!)

gave Berty a makeover

The day has been pretty sweet. I’m thinking of going out tonight to watch the meteor shower. Hope I don’t die.

Anyway, see ya tomorrow!

   ~You know who :)

The notebook closed with a loud thud that made even you twitch. Your eyes went to the basketball on the shelf above the makeshift bed.

“Sorry, Berty.” The ball didn’t respond, obviously. Its plastic wig shifted slightly further over the marker eyes, making it seem all crooked and funny looking. You weren’t crazy. You just preferred not to talk to yourself. 

A look at the window told you that it had gone dark by now. The weather conditions weren’t too great for another acid fog so your plan was good to go. You grabbed your backpack and headed out to the cliffs where you had the best view. Ever since the apocalypse started, there were a lot more stars visible at night. Half the population had been wiped out with the Hydra nukes and the rest played survivor with the mutated animals roaming the earth due to the atomic bombs that had been fired on that day. 

You remembered it vividly actually: Bright beams shooting through the sky and then it rained down like hellfire. Green glowing stripes covered the horizon from where you looked down onto the city.

The world hadn’t been that great to begin with to be honest. People were suffering, water and food supplies had shifted into the negative, and don’t even get started on climate. Humans had collectively decided that their planet was going to waste anyway. So, where was the harm in a little more destruction, right?

It’s not like you or any other normal citizen had had a chance to decide on another outcome anyway. The united governments of the world had been infiltrated by an organization with fucked up values and no sense for common human decency. They didn't care that their bombs would wipe out half of the world’s population. Hell, you’d be surprised if they even considered this an argument for their ‘cons’ column. But, hey, it had one benefit after all: if this was the worst it could get, there was nothing left to lose.

You kicked open the door of the buried school bus that had become your temporary home for a while now. Temporary in the sense that there was no way of knowing what would happen or when something would attack. You tried to make them all as cozy as possible though. Berty was a big part of that attempt. The painted basketball had become a loyal companion in your ever-shifting habitats. And even though it was a pain to transport a so unfortunately shaped object, you would never dare leave it behind. 

The humid evening air hit you like a broken fan. It was springtime, but that had stopped to matter many years ago. The weather merely shifted between scorching hot days and bearable nights. Though the wintertime was making being outside a little more doable. The trees hung low over your head when you stepped past the traps you had laid out around your home. You lived at the edge of the forest, which wasn’t the most secure place of all the ones you’ve had so far, but it was a little cooler. Most of the dangerous things out there hid several miles from the tree lines anyway. 

A dark sky stretched over your head as your feet dangled off the cliff by the forest. You were munching off an old can of beans that you had found on your stroll through the cities as the bright streams of light shot through the sky. It was beautiful and thrilling. Teetering you on the edge of remembering the very day that made this whole shit show go down. The sky was lit up back then too, but it wasn’t half as beautiful as this.

You could have sat like this for hours. The meteors wouldn’t stop passing until the sun rose, but there was a danger of being tired in broad daylight in this world. You couldn’t risk strolling through the morning with half a working brain. Especially because the morning brought a routine acid fog with its sunlight. You took a look at the tactical watch on your wrist. It was 3:30 am - Probably best to head back to safety.

As you stepped through the dried ground, you hummed a song from the old record in your bus. It didn’t work great and it was broken in several places which had you always listening to a slightly messed-up remix of the actual song, but you liked it anyway. Close to the bus, however, there was rustling from the side. Your body went into surviving mode immediately. There was a routine: hide, listen, escape. Only idiots fought whatever was out there. 

So that’s what you did.

The tree you hid behind was wide enough to cover you whole, which gave you easy access to sneak your head past the trunk and see what was making the noise. It came from about 20 feet before the buried bus, but there was nothing to be seen. The rustling continued though and as you stepped forwards from your cover, you noticed that it came from underneath. Something had fallen into your trap! It was foolproof of course, but you still approached it with care, fearfully and intrigued all together as to what you had caught this time... well, it was the first time here to be perfectly honest. Even more exciting to say the least.

Your feet crunched the dried leaves beneath you as a mumbled curse reached your ears. That was weird. Last time you checked, monsters didn’t talk. You were even more surprised, however, to find a broad man tangled in the hole you had dug outside your home. Of course, a person had been stupid enough to walk into your trap. You had been so excited about something more dangerous. 

The man had not noticed you standing above the hole just yet. He was still working with the net you had splayed out beneath the fallen leaves, too busy cursing his life away in the dirty opening. You cleared your throat after a minute, though. And as amusing as the whole scene had been, the man looking up at you wiped the smirk off your face immediately. He was gorgeous. Bright blue eyes gleamed up in the moonshine, a deep frown on his face as soon as the surprise to see you had faded.

“You got caught in my trap.” You said blankly, still captured by his face. You had not seen another person in nearly a month. It was strange, to say the least. That’s why you weren’t really expecting your mouth to say anything smart.

“This is supposed to be a trap?” The brown-haired man huffed before cutting through the last rope to free him from his restraints.

“Well you can’t get out, can you?” There was a short silence in which you caught the slightest hint of disbelief in his eyes.

“If you wanted to catch a monster with that, you wouldn’t be making such snarky comments. It’s barely deep enough for them.”

Anger crept up your neck. Who was this stranger to not only fall into your - awesome - intruder trap but also criticize your work even though he was the idiot stuck in it? “Why do you think I wanted to trap monsters? Maybe my trap was for people, which, in that case, it is brilliant.”

“It’s stupid,” he grumbled. 

“Oh come on give me a little credit, I only had spare materials.”

There was the confused glare again, and you couldn’t really place it just yet.“Yeah, yeah. Trap’s great now get me out.”

“That wasn’t genuine.” Your arms crossed before your chest, but you couldn’t hide the small smile forming on your lips. This was fun.

“You know what’s gonna be genuine? My foot in your ass once I get out of here.” Oh, not so fun.

“That's not a really good way to make me help you, you know?” You were about to step away when you heard him sigh deeply beneath you. A triumphant smirk appeared on your face before you held your head over the hole again.

“Can you please help me out of this genius trap?” The Brunette was rolling his eyes, but it was good enough for you - after all, you didn’t want to make enemies just yet.

“Why of course! I love people that appreciate good handy work!”

You nodded appreciatively and reached for the net he held your way. It took a little bit to get enough momentum but then he jumped and dug his boots into the soil walls and within seconds, the stranger was pulled up from the ground. 

“Drop the bullshit.”

“What bullshit?”

Now that he was standing in front of you like that, you noticed how tall he was, and built, too. It was a wonder you had managed to pull his weight out of there now that you thought about it. He was really handsome, too. His dark hair fell into his face and his eyes were bright blue, staring down at you with a gloomy expression. It didn’t scare you, though. You were more... fascinated by him, really.

He looked at you for a second, and the gears were literally turning behind his eyes. But he caught himself quickly, shaking his head and making his way out of the forest. You weren’t ready to have him leave, though. It was rare to meet people now, and this one seemed entertaining enough.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Away.” You barely heard him over the heavy footsteps he pressed into the ground.

“You can’t go!”

That made him stop. The stranger turned around with an unfazed expression, his shoulders hanging low with annoyance, but you wouldn’t let up. “And why’s that?”

Shit, you hadn’t thought it would get this far. Your hands wrung the net as you stood there looking for an explanation. But the guy turned around with a condescending clicking of his tongue. “Wait! You haven’t told me your name.” You shuffled over to him in haste, you steps faster than his, but it was difficult to catch up to him, still.

“I don’t have to.”

“You do, actually. It’s a rule.” He stopped again, and you almost fell at the abrupt halt.

“A rule,” he repeated in disbelief, his face still unimpressed, but he was quite pretty this way.

You smiled. “Yup. You fall into my trap, you tell me your name.” To be honest, you were a little proud at how fast you had come up with the idea, but it seemed the stranger was still not impressed. He just crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows at you almost amused.

“That's not a rule.”

“It’s my rule.” Was that a tiny smile creeping onto his features? You liked it - looked way better than those broody anger lines.

Then he huffed and shook his head. “Bucky.”

“Gesundheit,” you answered immediately, but that seemed to stick that annoyed look right back onto his handsome face.

“No. Bucky is my name.” Oops.

“Oh. Sorry.” You tried it out in your head, then. And it suited him quite nicely. It was a little odd but witty - just like him. 

“Whatever.” His arms untangled before his broad chest and Bucky looked ready to leave again. You didn’t want that, though.

“Would... uh.. would you like to come in?” Why were you so nervous all of a sudden? Your hands were a little sweaty, but talking to someone that actually responded felt so good...

You earned another look with that question. Really, you’d already gotten used to those in the three minutes you knew him - seemed to be his M.O. 

“What?” He wasn’t confused this time, at least you didn’t think so. It sounded more like he hadn’t heard you.

“You know... be my guest.” A bright smile spread on your lips, but Bucky wasn’t buying it, and frankly, you were running out of ideas to keep him here. Normally, people were happy to see others around here, but Bucky? He didn’t seem to like talking very much.

“Sorry, gotta go.”

Your eyes found the ground as you heard his steps distancing from you again. “Oh, ok.” You mumbled to yourself, and with a last wash of hope, you called out again. “Will I see you again?”

“No.” He was already by the tree line, now. And Bucky didn’t seem like the type of person to run back the distance in slow-mo like you had seen in those old films. 

It didn’t discourage you, though. “Okay, you know where to find me!”

“Not gonna visit you!”

“See ya soon!” You waved and bit back a triumphant smile when you heard him chuckle before he disappeared out of the woods. 

Hey, Book, It’s me again.

And, man, what a great day!

more…

Wanna be added to the taglist?

@circe143 @valkyrie418 @mirikusashes @noideawhyimdoingthislol @nikkitc0703 @lethallyprotected @erynnnn @misshale21 @wattpaduser200 @buckyseddie @adoreyouusugar @km-ffluv @almosttoopizza @sociallyimpairedme @royalwritersoftheuniverses @i-l-y-3000 @mrsgweasley @prettylittlepluviophile @dinwifey @stuckysgirl27 @wintermischief @supersecretblogformytreasures @broadwaybabe18 @fridayiaminlove @buckybarnessimpp @goodkittyspost @justafangir1 @simpxinnie @bisexual-buckyfan @blackhawkfanatic

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

A Sweet Mishap - Chapter 3

Pairing - Jensen Ackles x Reader 

A/N: If you read my Christmas Advent stories then you may be familiar with this story already, however, I've been working hard to turn it into a longer fic and as such a few things have changed (hence the reposts). New chapters will commence next week. I hope you enjoy! Let me know if you want me to be added to the taglist

A Sweet Mishap Masterlist | Main Masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Jensen and I continue texting whenever we can around our busy schedules. I consider more than a few times over the weekend to throw caution to the wind and meet up with him in his hotel room or invite him to my apartment. But in the end, I manage to stay strong, stick to my convictions and better judgements regarding my safety, and text instead. Despite not having the courage to call, it feels like we’re building a connection. But even if I had the courage, he’s been pretty busy and the texts have been sporadic with replies coming in hours apart. He did say he had to work, so I just figure he’s busy with auditions or meetings and am grateful for him making the time to text amidst the chaos. 

One thing I do is Google his name to find out what he’s starred in. His biggest project appears to be a horror show called Supernatural. I consider watching it just to see, but I don’t want to get a false idea of who he is, so I decide to stay blissfully ignorant and try to get to know him for who he is as a person instead. He did say he preferred that, after all.

It’s almost dark when I finally strip off my apron and hang it on the hook in the staff room. I collect my phone and jacket from the locker and return to the dining area to leave. I check my missed notifications as I walk out. I find my mood dropping slightly when I discover there’s none from Jensen. Instead, I scroll through our last text-chain. Suddenly, I collide with something solid–or perhaps I should say, someone, causing my phone to shatter to the floor. I quickly duck down to inspect the screen, only to find it littered with cracks. I sigh and then remember the person I ran into. I look up to apologise but lose all words when I meet his emerald eyes. I just smile in shock. Even with his pulled-down baseball cap and dark sunglasses, and after a single meeting, I instantly recognise him.

“You really gotta stop running into me like this,” the man says with a laugh.

“Can I buy you a drink to make up for it?”

“As I recall, that didn’t end well. Regardless, I can’t stay long, I do have a flight to catch. I just really wanted to see you again before I left.”

“You sure you can’t stay?”

“I’m sure. Someday. Let’s just promise to stay in touch.”

“I promise. At least just let me make you something for the road.”

“You look like you’ve already finished for the day. Go rest. You look exhausted. We’ll talk later.”

“Alright. Have a safe flight.”

He pulls me in for a brief hug and then disappears out onto the street and into a dark Range Rover. I smile at the whirlwind visit and then go back to my apartment. I throw a microwave mac and cheese dinner in to cook while I shower and change into my worn-out PJs, which consist of an oversized sweater with a teddy on the front and pink, plaid flannel pants. I’m not sure how long his flight will be but by the time I sit on the couch with my cheap and unappealing dinner in my lap, over an hour has passed. Despite not knowing when he’ll see the message, I decide to text him anyway.

It was great to run into you again *literally*... I am sorry about that, I really need to watch where I’m going Have a nice flight home or wherever you’re going Text me when you get there 

Not expecting a response until later, I put your phone to sleep and flick through the TV channels. To my surprise, Supernatural is airing. I have no idea what episode or season it is, or what they’re up to, but when Jensen’s face appears on the screen I’m unable to bring myself to change the channel. Despite my initial desire to stay ignorant, I just can’t look away. I gasp and try to resist the urge to look away when his character, who you’ve gathered is called Dean, slices off someone or something’s head. But somehow he manages to make decapitation attractive. Every expression on his face keeps my eyes glued and I find myself getting even more engrossed. He tells the story so well even though I don’t really know what the full story is. His taller brother in the show is also incredibly attractive. The longer I watch, the more I find myself not caring about the plot and just enjoying the eye candy instead. Part of me feels a little guilty for looking and thinking about Jensen like that when he seems like such a nice, genuine guy in real life. And he genuinely seems interested in pursuing a friendship — or hopefully more — in the future. 

Once the episode ends I force myself to switch off the TV, clean up and go to bed; I have another early shift tomorrow. As I lay in bed, the images of Dean – or Jensen – flow through my head. Unable to sleep, Idecide to text him again.

I guess you’re still on your flight Just wanted to let you know I saw you on TV tonight Your show Supernatural was on when I was flicking through the channels Can’t say as I picked up on a lot of the plot but I can see why the paparazzi follow you Anyway, I’ll stop bombarding you now Good night

I force myself to switch my phone onto sleep mode and plug it in to charge. As I lay in bed, I relive the impromptu meeting until I finally fall asleep.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Taglist: @stoneyggirl2

[whimsy-of-the-stars]

whimsy-of-the-stars: a writeblr re-re-intro!

hey guys, it’s been a minute! I’m whimsy-of-the-stars, and since my main projects have kinda shifted around, I thought it would be a good time to update my intro! ngl it’s a pretty inopportune time to do a re-intro, since I’m close to the end of one draft and planning two more… it’s just overdue!

some info about me:

I’m gonna start college in the fall majoring in English with a concentration in Creative Writing! :D

learning languages is a passion of mine! I’m focusing on Spanish right now but I’ve dabbled in both Esperanto and Toki Pona (yeah I’m a nerd!)

I’m a video essay enjoyer and possibly maker, eventually

fiction podcasts and actual plays slap???

I have “I want to do too many things” disease and want to try making stories in many different mediums!

ttrpgs are really cool but I have yet to play them with other people! does that stop me from trying to make games… no

elements I like to write: Found family! Chosen ones (+ the subversion of)! Big Emotion™️! Organized crime (idk why it doesn’t leave me alone)! Gay people, of course!

genres I like to write (YA and middle grade): high fantasy, low fantasy, different -punk stuff, sci fi maybe, superheroes, fairy-tale esque, romance, coming of age

I also write poetry! You can find it in this tag: whimsy of the poetry

ALSO, I did DraftDash in January 2024, which was fun but I did end up petering out halfway thru. Follow my journey in the tag draftdash!

ok, now onto wips!

I am in a weird stage with a lot of my wips, but a re-intro was overdue so I decided to do it anyway!

wips I am currently writing:

apocalypse story!

status: first draft, 24k (almost done with part 1)

the basics: mg/ya apocalyptic + queer ?coming of age? story and its sequel, except they’re both short so they’re melded into one two-part book! it’s told thru diary entries with lots of extra ephemera glued in! part 1 of 2 is ALMOST done but I’m not inspired to finish it rn! ! I’m not gonna continue with part 2 right after, though, since I still need to plan it!

summary: stressed-out eighth/grader Allison goes to her old hideout in the forest to decompress, but one thing leads to another and she can’t find her way back home. the forest is seemingly ever-expanding, ever-changing, and even when she finds her friends who’ve come to rescue her, they still have to face the actual, real life botanical apocalypse that’s becoming more and more of an issue for the outside world. can they find their way home alive and well? and if they do get home, what will their home city even look like?

extras: fun fact I started this in April 2023 for camp nano and it has taken me this long to write the next 10k words! Also the main character is a bit of a self-insert, but of the person I was in lockdown in 2020!

um. That’s it for wips I’m currently writing rn lol

wips I am “revitalizing”:

(aka taking old drafts/concepts and turning them nice and new!)

Both of these have existed in different-ish iterations for years, however I am currently in the weird process of developing both of these into all-new things from an existing groundwork! Neither of them currently have “statuses” because it’s hard to explain where exactly I am right now!

heist story!

the basics: ya fantasy heist novel (maybe eventually a trilogy?) set in a faerie world that rapidly advanced not too long ago into a dieselpunk/decopunk society rife with corruption and crime!

summary: Logical and inquisitive teen Calliope is relatively normal. Her offbeat parents, however, have raised her in a house full of strange curios and old tomes of faery stories. But only when she starts to exhibit unwieldy shadow magic, and her parents invite a prim woman she’s never met before into their home do things really start to get strange. The woman whisks Calliope away through one of the aforementioned curios to a noir hubworld where ancient faerie bloodlines and newfangled magitech collide. Why? To take part in a high-stakes heist with a surprising trio of other teens who want nothing more than to take down the crime boss who runs their town.

extras: this one’s a weird one imo. it’s one of the oldest wips that I am still working on, tho this one had a break of about 3 years!!! also I originally wrote it in hot pink comic sans XD

new superhero story!

(I am also revitalizing this one, but it’s in a way less put-together state! not much to say yet lol!) (also it’s not very new I just call it that)

it’s a ya superhero thing that features teenage (often queer) antiheroes trying to balance their heroic + civilian identities!

featuring: the shittiest entertainment/hero management company you’ve ever seen, shared trauma, gray morality, two different rock bands, and heroes that are at once government agents, influencers, and corporate concoctions!

considering making a “help me name my characters” post because i desperately have to name/rename like 3/4 of all of these characters!!!

more ideas I have bouncing around:

(lightning round!)

old ya romance wip i need to revitalize about two teens enter a competition to make a demo album and end up falling in love in the process (also they’re lesbians XD)

offbeat, ya supernatural + historical fantasy about a girl university student who is buried alive, and upon getting rescued, starts to transform into a strange underworld creature. also features a cute gravedigger :D

a musical about standardized testing (yeah lol) that’s goofy and queer and explores how seniors + juniors are so freaking stressed out all the time lol

that’s all folks! :D

[legolasghosty]

ahh yes wip tag game!! i’m physically incapable of not asking about “IKEA Meetcute Willex” but also “Willie Touch Issues Ace Stuff” sounds interesting👀 hope you’re doing well!!

Heheheheheh IKEA Willex!!!! My beloved that I really need to finish!

For anyone who isn't familiar, IKEA Willex is a meetcute setup where Alex is at IKEA looking for a new bedframe(Cause Luke and Reggie broke his old one by jumping on it whenever he wasn't home), and runs into Willie, who is attempting to get a race car bed as a combo of getting furniture for his new apartment and 'healing his inner child' or whatever his therapist kept calling it. They end up searching together :D

Let's see, random facts you don't already know about it.... I guess this is more about the extended universe than this fic itself, but please know that Alex and Willie get a giant race car bed when they move in together eventually! Cause YES!

Snippet!

"How goes the search?" Alex asks.

"Not good," Willie sighs, leaning back against the fake wall. "I know they have them here cause I looked online, but I haven't found any yet and I've been here for an hour."

Alex winces sympathetically. "When did you get here?"

"Like… 11:30?" Willie answers.

Alex glances down at his watch, then back at Willie, then back at the watch. "Ummm, you've only been here for like 20 minutes then," he informs them.

Willie stares at him for a solid minute, then drops his head back against the wall and groans again. "I'm doomed."

(I fully pulled that bit from a show called Ordinary Days.)

Okay! Willie Touch Issues Ace Stuffs!

This one takes place post canon sometime and was born from the idea that Caleb tended to use touch to manipulate Willie. Caleb is gone now and Willie is free, but like... the boy has some trauma. And sometimes he has moments of being terrified of turning out to be just like Caleb. Sooooo he has a bad day where he sort of can't stand to touch Alex or anyone else cause he's terrified that he's somehow manipulating them just like Caleb did.

And there's a whole other level to it with Alex cause Willie is ace and sex repulsed. Alex is probably ace too, cause I can't write allo characters to save my life, but maybe more sex neutral/favorable. So Willie is freaking out that maybe he's manipulating Alex by touching him cause somehow he's promising something he doesn't actually want. It's a whole thing. Anyways, Alex finds him and they'll be okay. When I actually finish writing it.

Snippet!

No, no thinking about him. Today was supposed to be good. He had to focus on something else. They hung a tight left, not even sure where they were anymore, and swerved a little to avoid some more lifers. Maybe tonight Reggie would talk the rest of the gang into watching A New Hope again. While Star Wars wasn't Willie's main thing, he could appreciate the art form, and it always made Reggie happy. But did Willie really think it sounded fun to watch something just because it made his friend happy? Had Caleb been right all along? Was Willie like him? Willing to do whatever it took to get what he wanted, even if it involved hurting people or forcing them to do things they didn't want?

Suddenly, Willie collided with something solid, tumbling to the ground as their board slid out from under their feet. He groaned, rolling onto his back on the cold sidewalk, looking around for whatever it was he’d run into. They froze as their eyes locked on blonde hair and pink fabric.

“Hey Wils,” Alex groaned, sitting up and looking down at him. “Sorry, I didn’t even think about how that would go if you were moving.”

Thanks for the ask!!! Gosh I really wanna go back to both of these now!

(Ask me questions about any of my wips that intrigue you!)

[melanielocke]

The Stars Collide - Chapter 20

I really have to get back to writing this story because now I have no chapters left. I did work really hard at the Witch in the Woods, my Hansel and Gretel retelling, and finished a round of edits today. I'll probably go over it once more and then I'll need some people to beta read it so if anyone's interest, let me know. Next chapter of the Stars Collide will be sometime next week, though I'll have to write it first. AO3 | Chapter list

Alastair felt a little uncomfortable around his sister. He hated that he felt this way, he’d missed her so much over the past six years and was happy she’d come to Fair, but he also hated how she knew what had happened to him.

Cordelia didn’t say anything, likely Thomas had asked her not to, but he could still see the way she looked at him. With worry. With pity. He was older than her, and it had always been his duty to protect her and keep her safe. He’d never wanted her to see how broken he really was, and her trying to protect him felt wrong.

‘I’m really excited to see Lightwood,’ Cordelia said. ‘The biggest forest of the planet. I read that there are lots of small villages and settlements in the woods, nothing like the castle and surrounding cities I’ve seen so far.’

‘There’s lots of farmland too,’ Thomas said. ‘When my sisters and I were little, we used to help pick tomatoes and berries and the like during harvest season. They always needed extra hands for the harvest and my father believed it important for us to help out and get some experience with manual labor. Genie used to eat some of the berries she picked until one time a farmer got really mad at her for it.’

‘I’ve never done anything like that,’ Cordelia said. ‘Is it harvest season right now?’

‘For pumpkins,’ Thomas said. ‘For berries it’s a little late.’

‘Can I sign up to help harvest pumpkins too?’ Cordelia asked. ‘Sounds like fun.’

‘I’m sure you can. I never did, because we used to be in school during pumpkin season, while we had summer break when the berries were harvested.’

‘With some of the larger pumpkins, you can carve them out and put a candle inside,’ Lucie said. ‘They work as charms when I make them and are some of the strongest protective charms I can make. Until the pumpkin expires, that is. Maybe we can decorate the house with those, to keep you safe.’  

Alastair listened to the conversation, but didn’t add anything himself, choosing to focus on one of the books he’d borrowed from Thomas. It was a novel set in an ancient world where a young man fell in love with a demon. It fascinated him, because who could love a demon? Who could love something so dark and rotten? But a little later into the book, he’d discovered the demon wasn’t evil, not really. He was just broken and sad and blamed himself for things that had never been his fault. The main character was the first to see the demon for who he really was, the first to take away some of his burden and help him find a way to heal. The main character reminded him of Thomas, in a way. So open, so kind. He had a reckless streak too, and didn’t always make the smartest decisions, but he was determined to prove his demon was not the evil everyone believed him to be. Alastair hoped the two would find a way to be together. Unfortunately, it was only the first in a series and book 2 wasn’t coming out for a few more months.

‘How much longer is it?’ Alastair asked when he finished the book.

‘Two more hours,’ Thomas said. ‘Lightwood is a six hour flight.’

‘You don’t happen to have another book?’

‘We have lots of books in Lightwood,’ Thomas said. ‘Until then we can play a game though. Cordelia has a supply of board games on the ship. Or we can eat. I brought some leftovers from the freezer we can heat up in here.’

‘I could eat,’ Alastair said. ‘What do you have?’

Alastair had weighed himself that morning, and he’d gained ten pounds since marrying Thomas. He was almost at a healthy weight.

‘Eggplant mash, two portions lentil soup and spiced cauliflower and potato,’ Thomas said.

‘That all sounds delicious,’ Alastair said. ‘Can I have the eggplant mash?’

Eggplant was one of his favorite vegetables, something that was commonly eaten on Turan too. Eggplant mash reminded him of home. They all ate dinner, Cordelia putting the plane in autopilot to come eat too. Cordelia returned to the cockpit after dinner, while Lucie stayed behind and decided they would play a game of Rummikub.

‘You’re far too good at this,’ Lucie complained after Alastair had rearranged half the board to put away his last stone. ‘None of this should be allowed.’

‘I followed all of the rules,’ Alastair said. ‘I won.’

‘Come, Lu, we’ll go for place two and three.’

Alastair sat closer to Thomas, looking at his stones and the board. He had one difficult stone, but there were two he should be able to lose once Lucie finished her turn. He looked over the board, analyzing different ways to move the stones, lose the ones Thomas had in hand and have everything turn out complete.

‘You need to rearrange this,’ Alastair said once Lucie had given up and picked a stone from the pile.

‘You’re not allowed to help!’ Lucie yelled.

Alastair wisely shut up and waited until Thomas figured it out himself. It took some time, during which Lucie took out her laptop and started typing, occasionally asking Thomas if he was done yet.

‘Maybe next game we should put a timer during which you’re supposed to make your move,’ Alastair suggested.

‘If you think this is long, you should play Rummikub with my dad,’ Thomas said. ‘During his move you can make tea, come back, finish it, and he still will be looking if there’s really no way to lose that one stone.’

‘Maybe I’ll try,’ Alastair said. ‘I would like to get to know him better, at least.’

With Henry and Charlotte, his relationship had been cordial, yet distant. He was more of an acquaintance to them than family, though he had recently learned Henry did care for him. He hoped to build a better relationship with his new in laws. He’d been so alone during his time with Charles, and Alastair never wanted to feel like that again.

They tried several other games until in the end Lucie settled on a purely luck based game called Ludo. Alastair had too much insight and memory for most of the other games they’d found on board of the plane. He lost magnificently at Ludo, Lucie kept throwing his pawns of the board, making him start over.

It was close to midnight in Lightwood when they landed the plane on a designated spot near Lightwood estate. There was a four hour time difference, and Alastair didn’t feel like sleeping quite yet. They dragged all their belongings to the Lightwood estate, and Thomas showed Alastair to his room first, and then helped Lucie and Cordelia get their bags into the guest room.

Thomas’ bedroom was nice. It was a little bigger than the bedroom of his quarters at Fair palace, but similar in coloring, nice and cozy. The bed was made and everything looked nice and clean. Alastair changed into his pajamas, then found his way to the bathroom to clean himself and brush his teeth before getting into bed. Thomas joined him not long after, and for a moment Alastair considered getting a little closer to him. He had loved being held by Thomas, and he wished Thomas would hold him here too. But he couldn’t ask that. It would be too much, it would scare Thomas away from him.

When Alastair woke the next morning, Thomas was still asleep and Alastair decided to get dressed quietly and leave the bedroom so Thomas could sleep a little more. He soon realized he didn’t know exactly where he was going and after taking a wrong turn somewhere, he entered a room he thought Thomas had said would like to the library, but he was wrong. This was a study, but it looked unused and rather dusty. He was about to turn around, when he noticed the portrait of a young woman. She had brown hair and green eyes, a piercing gaze, a haughty expression on her face. Alastair could have sworn he’d seen her before and yet that didn’t make any sense because he couldn’t figure out when.

‘Who is- oh, Alastair. You must have lost your way?’

Alastair startled. He turned around to see Thomas’ father standing in the doorway.

‘Didn’t mean to scare you,’ Gideon Lightwood said. ‘It’s just, this used to be my father’s study. No one usually comes here. I heard your footsteps.’

‘Thomas told me where to find the library, but I think I misinterpreted his instructions,’ Alastair said.

Now that he went over them again in his head, they were somewhat ambiguous and Alastair had picked one he thought Thomas had meant. He often found it difficult when people were ambiguous in what they meant.

‘That’s alright, you couldn’t have known. Come, I’ll show you to the library.’

‘Wait. Who is that woman over there?’ Alastair asked. ‘I feel like I’m supposed to remember her.’

‘She’s my sister, Tatiana,’ Gideon said. ‘I haven’t seen her in a long time. She left Fair after both our father and her husband died. Last I heard she fled to the Edom empire. I think it’s unlikely you’d have met her.’

‘I guess so,’ Alastair said. ‘With my memory, I would remember. Perhaps I’ve seen her picture before, or just someone who looks like her.’

Still, it bothered Alastair. Why didn’t he remember her? Why would her face be so familiar? She was from Fair originally, but hadn’t lived here in some time. Would it make sense if she had anything to do with the experiments?

‘How long was it ago, that she fled?’

‘Almost thirty years,’ Gideon said. ‘Her husband died shortly after she’d married him, along with my father.’

Gideon’s tone indicated he didn’t want to talk about this any further and Alastair respected that. He could sense there was something difficult there. Maybe Thomas would know more, but Alastair wouldn’t press him about it either for now.

‘I’m sorry about your father.’

‘Don’t be. He was not a good man,’ Gideon said. ‘The library is this way.’

The library was a cozy room with a sofa and several comfortable looking chairs and a coffee table in the middle. The seating arrangement looked out onto the forest through a wall of windows. On the other wall, there were book cases filling the rooms.

‘I love this set up,’ Alastair said. ‘And the view, it’s lovely.’

‘It is beautiful,’ Gideon agreed. ‘The books on the far side are old, but many are newer. It’s not that much compared to the Herondales, but I’d still consider this a big collection. What kind of books do you like?’

‘Oh, all kinds. I used to read a lot about politics, but nowadays I’m getting more into fiction. Thomas had a lot of books I’m enjoying.’

‘That shelf on the right are Thomas’ books,’ Gideon said. ‘Maybe you’ll find something you like there.’

‘I’ll take a look,’ Alastair said. ‘Thank you. But would it be okay if I ate something first? I don’t know where the kitchen is and I’m a little hungry.’

‘Of course. Come, I’ll show you. Is Tom not up yet?’

‘I figured I’d let him sleep. Usually he makes me breakfast, I don’t always eat breakfast. He’s a very good cook, I gained ten pounds since we got married. I used to be really underweight.’

‘He gets that from his mother,’ Gideon said. ‘I never had much talent in the kitchen, I’m afraid, but Sophie is an amazing cook and she taught Thomas. I’m glad you’re eating better, you look healthier than you did at your wedding.’  

‘Thanks you,’ Alastair said.

He wondered how Thomas felt about that. Would he find Alastair more attractive now that he’d gained some weight? He looked better than he used to and started to feel a little less insecure about his body. Perhaps foolishly, he still hoped Thomas could develop feelings for him.

@alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @life-through-the-eyes-of @styxdrawings @justanormaldemon @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised @amchara @all-for-the-fanfiction @imsoftforthomastair @ddepressedbookworm @queenlilith43 @wagner-fell @cant-think-of-anything @laylax13s @tessherongraystairs @boredfangirl16 @artist-in-soul @broodyhawthorne @ikissedsmithparker

[twilightmalachite]

Twin Peaks - division by zero 2

Author: Akira

Characters: Hiiro, Kaoru, Hinata, Yuuta

Translator: Mika Enstars

Proofers: 310mc & feesh

"We move like a pendulum and collide, again and again, and it hurts every time—I don’t like being like this."

Season: Autumn

Location: Shopping District

Several days later, the day of the twins’ new and improved showdown, Twin Peaks…

Hiiro: “And thus! Here we are formally holding the never-before-heard-of twin showdown, Twin Peaks!”

“I am your host and judge for today, ALKALOID’s Amagi Hiiro…and!!”

Kaoru: “Somehow I’ve been dragged in along the way—it’s Hakaze Kaoru from UNDEAD.”

Hiiro: “You have to be more excited, Kaoru-senpai!”

“Although the leading roles for today’s event are the two from 2wink, we’re also in front of the audience and cameras! That means we shouldn’t cut any corners! Isn’t that right!?”

Kaoru: “I’m not cutting any corners, buuut… If you start off full-throttle like that, you’re gonna run out of steam, ‘kay? Try to pace yourself a little. You really are the same type of person as Souma-kun, aren’t you…?”

Hiiro: “I’m not “Soummakun”, my name is Amagi Hiiro-kun!”

“Thank you for your support! Thank you for your support! Ah, and I thank the people passing by for your support as well!”

Kaoru: “Are you running for election or something? Being enthusiastic is great and all, but we’re here only to spice up the show, the tsuma[1] by the sashimi, you could say, so… Don’t be too excessive, alright?”

Hiiro: “Okay! I don’t know the right level of energy I should have during these situations, so I shall trust my senior who is abundant with experience!”

Hinata: (Huhm… Seeing those two getting along is kinda… yeah… I’m pretty jealous.)

(While the two of us brothers have to crush one another, they’re all peaceful and harmonious together… It’s like they’re rubbing it in our faces.)

Yuuta: (Though, we’re not actually fighting this time around, which is unusual for us..)

Hinata: (Ahaha, wouldn’t it be even more unusual to not see us fighting~?

Yuuta: (Well, whenever we have a joint show with other units, we make sure to avoid making the atmosphere bad.)

(But every time we’re the main stars of the show, it’s like we can’t help but just… feel on edge with each other.)

(When it comes down to it, we’re not very compatible, are we?)

Hinata: (Ah, horrible! You didn’t have to say what everyone’s been thinking out loud!)

(…Any skill I had as an idol, I used it to make the best out of our twin characters, but…)

(By trying to forcibly bring myself up with a completely opposite personality, I wonder if that’s why we’re not as compatible anymore.)

(Even though we’re usually so distant, once it’s time to go on-stage, we quickly have to latch onto each other. I think that’s why we end up crashing into each other and go splat.)

Yuuta: (Don’t make sound effects when you talk. I do get what you mean though, somehow. We move like a pendulum and collide, again and again, and it hurts every time—I don’t like being like this.)

(But this has always been the norm for us. We grew up like this, so it feels like there’s nothing we can do anymore.)

Hinata: (Don’t give up, Yuuta-kun! I know you can do it!)

(…No, it’s more like the reason I’m here is so Yuuta-kun can “do it”.)

Yuuta: (Huh?)

Hiiro: “And now, without further ado, let me introduce to you today’s protagonists! Let us all welcome 2wink up on the stage~! ♪”

Kaoru: “Let’s start off with introductions, while bringing out charm in front of everyone here at the shopping district with some song and dance~! ♪”

Yuuta: (Right, right. That’s the plan, after all. Roger that!)

As a result of our family meeting the other day, we re-did the structure of Twin Peaks.)

(The premise that the winner of the match will appear in Volcano Island hasn’t changed. But…)

(“Increasing the appearance quota isn’t an option…” …Is what we thought when we originally came up with this plan.)

Hinata: (But after talking it out, we came to the conclusion that it wasn’t worth anything if both of us couldn’t appear on Volcano Island.)

Yuuta: (Mhm. We’re the two in one twin idols. We challenge everything together, to become the strongest individual, second to none—we become “us”.)

Hinata: (It’s our greatest individuality, our greatest weapon, and greatest eccentricity.)

Yuuta: (Our creed we discovered during our days in Yumenosaki, that were spent laughing and crying, so we wouldn’t be left behind. Our backbone, and our pride.)

(But putting it the other way around, neither of us can topple any top-class idol as individuals.)

(Each of our individualities instead became an obstacle in order for us to become a perfect combo, to emphasize being “two in one”.)

Hinata: (But since it’s much more convenient to be differentiated in the case of day to day life, we came up with distinct characterizations as the older and younger brother.)

Yuuta: (And then while onstage, we’d become so similar to the point others wouldn’t be able to tell who is who.)

Hinata: (‘Cause it’s easier that way. We’re twins, so we resemble each other.)

(Rather than trying to make two similar people appear different, it’s easier to resemble each other more instead.)

(“Twins who really resemble each other” was a better fit for an idol than “twins who don’t resemble each other”, at least on stage.)

Yuuta: (This distinct identity of ours was a straightforward advantage!)

(Hiiro-kun said that too, that nobody else can replicate us—a unique existence only we can exhibit, because we are twins.)

Hinata: (A special weapon only we are capable of, one not mentioned in any textbook.)

Yuuta: (But, as a consequence of relying too much on this special weapon, it’s become difficult for us to handle ordinary weapons.)

(We have quite a bit of expertise of course, so we won’t lose to the more average idols out there, but…)

Hinata: (We’re no match when it comes to the “real deal”. Of course, we don’t know what will happen until we try—But pit us against those who earnestly honed their skills on a level playing field, and we won’t stand a chance.)

Yuuta: (We instinctively think this. In Yumenosaki, we’ve been nothing but side shows to so many amazing people, after all, y’know?)

Hinata: (When we see the “real deal” up close, people who’ve mastered their skills authentically, we end up hesitating.)

(We think to ourselves—“Would we be able to do this much, as individuals?”)

Yuuta: (We doubt ourselves. Because in reality, we don’t have the confidence that we can compete against other idols one-on-one and win not as “us”, but as “just myself”.)

Hinata: (If we were confident, then we would’ve just sent one or the other to the program at random.)

(That even though we can’t be “us”, we would be confident we’d produce results, even as “just myself”.)

Yuuta: (That even as “just myself”, we can be sure that 2wink will be okay no matter what.)

Hinata: (But we just couldn’t do it.)

Yuuta: (Instead, somewhere deep down, we were giving up because we think it’s impossible.)

Hinata: (That’s exactly why we clung so desperately to our greatest weapon, “us”—Our strongest and most unique weapon that we know we can win with.)

Yuuta: (Because of those circumstances, we had completely stagnated—and we’ve finally come to realize that…)

Hinata: (Becoming “us” didn’t lead us to achieving perfection.)

Yuuta: (I think what actually happened was that at some point, we reached a definitive defeat—)

Hinata: (Until we were consumed and digested by the monster called “us”, and became nothing but nourishment for it to keep moving.)

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The edible garnish served beside sashimi.

[pickledpascal]

Love’s Train

Chapter Three: 2018: Changing Roles

Warnings: A bit of existentialism, swearing, feelings of inadequacy, i’m an american and i still don’t know how the US government works.

Word Count: 1.7k

Love’s Train Masterlist

Previous Chapter  |  Next Chapter

It was a little unfortunate in Quinn’s opinion that she wasn’t included in the action of Cybertron almost colliding with Earth. Yet, at the same time, she couldn’t help but feel relieved. Stressful situations were never her strong suit. Going to war… she knew she’d have a mental breakdown of some sort. But just because Quinn wasn’t fighting alongside the Autobots doesn’t mean she was in the clear just yet. Earthlings were starting to change their minds again about Cybertronians. Hailed them in a more positive light, especially after they just saved Earth for possibly the millionth time. So the Autobots needed a human, someone they could trust, to speak for them in front of the entire world.

It just so happened that Quinn was that human.

It couldn’t be Cade. He was too brash and angry, someone who was sure to rub the wrong people the wrong way. Quinn seemed to be the correct choice. Someone who was diplomatic yet firm, kind but she wouldn’t budge if it came down to it. She was Bee’s recommendation and it seemed Optimus couldn’t really refuse. 

So Quinn’s dreams of going to college were put on hold. Creating a safer world for her friends was much more important than getting a mechanical engineering degree. Optimus Prime entrusted her with introducing Cybertronian-inclusive laws. She couldn’t pass up this opportunity. Bumblebee was her closest friend, she couldn’t let him down either. 

So far so good. Quinn was able to fix Bumblebee’s voice box. He could finally speak using his own voice instead of the radio and speak he did.

“How was the council?”

“Was the president there? What was he wearing?”

“If someone threatens you, I’m shooting them with my canon.”

“Fucking humans.”

Just a few things he’d say after Quinn would come back from Washington. It was weird, having to get information she’d need for the next council from Bumblebee and not Optimus. Perhaps he didn’t trust her just yet which she couldn’t blame him for. The Autobot leader was gone for years, not knowing just how much the world changed in his absence. Maybe he was just getting used to it all again. Quinn was at the junkyard, laying on the dried up dirt of the ground as she looked up at the stars. She wasn’t able to even see Optimus. Not in a way that mattered. She’d see Optimus parked to the side of Cade’s trailer or even driving out of the main road. Quinn had never seen him transform, just the truck. 

It was hard to not take it personally. Quinn was their human representative, why wouldn’t he at least want to introduce himself? It seemed a bit… childish in her eyes. Though she wasn’t sure why. Bee carried on as if everything was fine. Which it was for the most part. The few laws Quinn had introduced so far had passed, both parties afraid their approval ratings would go down if they vetoed them.

Law one was simply not making Autobots enemies of the state anymore–only in America though.

Law two was granting Autobots citizenship as if they were any other human born in the states. That one took a bit longer to pass because Cybertronians aren’t really born, especially not on Earth. They just so happened to crash land in America.

Through time, though, Quinn was able to find some old friends of Bumblebee and Optimus. Ironhide and Ratchet. They were both alive, just hiding very well. It was nice to see their reunion. Especially when Ratchet realized Bee could talk and that Quinn fixed his voice box instead of some other Autobot. The junkyard started to be like a safe haven for the bots. Somewhere away from the horrors of the world.

Bumblebee laid down next to Quinn, optics staring up at the night sky as well. “You look at the stars when you feel lost.” He hummed, gears shifting as he turned his head to look at Quinn. “What’s on your mind?”

She let out a breath and sat up, lifting her knees to her chest as she looked at Bee with a light smile. Being friends with a Cybertronian was nice, of course it was, but that meant Bee could start to pick up on the little things about Quinn. “I just–I was thinking. About Optimus. I know I’m human and we’ve hurt a lot of you but, I mean, he was the one with the final decision. Why haven’t we met yet? Sometimes I’ll see him leaving or resting next to Cade’s trailer like he is now but… he hasn’t gone all ‘robot’ mode in front of me yet. It makes me feel… disappointed.” Quinn admitted, scratching the back of her head before fixing her glasses.

Bumblebee waited a moment before he answered. If he had lips, Quinn was sure he would have pursed them. “It’s… hard because I can’t give you an answer to that. Optimus likes to keep his cards close sometimes. He wouldn’t even interact with Sam unless he was under extreme danger. Perhaps he’s keeping himself isolated from you so you are not endangered.” He suggested before continuing as he sat up as well. “Those humans who share congress with you, their intentions are not always pure.”

“I know, Bee…” Quinn sighed as she looked into Bumblebee’s bright blue optics before she was enveloped in a hug. She chuckled softly. 

At that point, she was used to slightly getting crushed in between Bee’s solid metal hands and his chest composed of the front of whatever car he’d turn into at the time. It seemed to be the latest Camaro. Honestly, Quinn was getting comfortable with hugging Bee. She cupped his cheek and smiled as he closed his optics and leaned into her touch. Bumblebee was very affectionate and… cute. 

—-----

Another day in Washington, a hotel provided by the government for the duration of her stay, and a yellow and black Camaro sitting comfortably by the side of the street. No one would even think twice to look at it. Fall was starting to roll in, brown leaves dancing along the wind before falling to the ground. Quinn’s birthday was just a few months ago. Nineteen and still not in college. 

Quinn was making her way out of the hotel, dressed in a deep blue suit and white tank top, when someone bumped into her. “Sorry!” She quickly apologized before looking up at the perpetrator. His face seemed familiar.

“It’s alright. You must be Quinn Harlow. I’m Sam Witwickey.” He introduced himself as if Quinn would have known who she was but she was drawing a blank. Sensing this, he quickly added. “I saved Optimus Prime then he saved the world…” Sam trailed off.

Then Quinn nodded, remembering. “Yeah, your face is much slimmer. Must be why I didn’t recognize you at first.” She smiled sheepishly. Sam certainly looked a lot more like an adult than in the pictures she’s seen. Truth was, Bumblebee didn’t talk about Sam much. They had some sort of fallout before Bee had to go into hiding. All the information Quinn did know about Sam was from old Sector Seven records. 

Sam cocked his eyebrow before he caught sight of the Camaro on the other side of the street. “Isn’t it… dangerous for Bee to be here?” He asked.

“Laws have been put in place in case you forgot so no. Not anymore.” Quinn answered with a small smile and a nod. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Witwicky, but I gotta go.” She waved, making her way to Bee. 

What a weird morning in Washington… 

—------

Each day Quinn was called to congress started to blur together, it all started the same way with the same questions being asked over and over again that it would give Quinn a headache. Not sometimes but all the time.

“Which Autobots are you closest too?” 

“Bumblebee and Ratchet.”

“Why did you start working with them?” 

“To understand their anatomy.”

“What is their anatomy like?” 

“Unexplainable to a panel of people who know nothing about mechanics at all.”

“Have you worked on their weapons?” 

“Yes, however not anymore.”

“Have you been able to talk with their leader, Optimus Prime?” 

“No, he’s very secretive and only allows extremely trusted humans to speak with him. It is also safe to assume I’ve yet to speak to him because if I had I am under oath not to lie to you.”

None of this was hard. Just incredibly, mind-numbingly, tedious. Quinn hated tedious things but she agreed to help her friends and she wasn’t gonna back down just because her job would give her a headache. It was a job after all. She knew it wasn’t going to be fun. The aftermath would be. To be around Bee in public in his bot form would be a dream.

Huffing as she closed the door to the Camaro, Quinn closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. “I’m fucking tired…” She ran a hand through her hair before she dragged it down her face to try and put some life back in her face.

A static started for a second as the knobs for the radio started turning before Bee’s voice came through. Innovation was Bumblebee’s middle name if Quinn had anything to say about it. Always looking for new ways to communicate. “Back to the hotel, Captain? Or home?” He asked.

Quinn sighed as she set a hand on the steering wheel. “Hotel, I need to grab some stuff. Tomorrow morning, we’re going home.” She said as she pursed her lips. She was able to grab a few spare parts needed to fix the rest of Ironhide and Ratchet on her way over to Washington. Ironhide needed a better weapons calibration system, his canons wouldn’t power up anymore and Ratchet needed a new medical scanner. Both of which she was able to find, rummaging around in a few spare parts ditches. Quinn thought it was weird to throw away parts people didn’t think they needed anymore… Well, at least she got them for free. That’s always nice.

[novumtimes]

Charlie Cox teases possibility of Daredevil and Avengers crossover

Charlie Cox has hinted he wants Daredevil to appear alongside the Avengers in a future Marvel movie. After starring as ‘The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen’ in the Netflix series – which ran from 2015 to 2018 – the 41-year-old actor is set to play the superhero again in the upcoming Disney+ show ‘Daredevil: Born Again’, and is already teasing what he hopes the character’s Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) future will look like. When Screen Rant asked Cox who he’d like to see Daredevil team up with, he said: “I have to be so careful. Look, I can’t!; I’m not going to say, there’s so many. There’s one particular group of people that I would like to be invited to play with … But we’ll get into that a little bit later.” The ‘Kin’ actor added he would love to appear alongside Tom Holland’s Spider-Man again after his cameo appearance in ‘Spider-Man: No Way Home’. He said: “Being in the Spider-Man movie felt like a big step just in terms of a lot of people referencing that when I meet them. I guess you can’t underestimate how much it means when these characters have [a] history in the comics. When we then get to collide onscreen, it really means a lot to the fans, and I get that. I feel that way now as well myself. “So, the Spider-Man thing is such an iconic thing; the idea of Matt Murdock and Peter Parker together is just so iconic. I hope that, in the future, we get to do some more stuff together because that really is fun. That’s the main thing; just that those opportunities can arise.” Recently, Cox – who will be reprising his role in the new show alongside his fellow ‘Daredevil’ casemates Vincent D’Onofrio, Jon Bernthal, Deborah Ann Woll and Elden Henson – revealed Marvel boss Kevin Feige had reached out to him “midway through 2020” to discuss the possibility of officially bringing the character over to the MCU. He told People: “We stopped shooting the original show at the end of 2016, beginning of 2018 and found out it was cancelled somewhere in that period. “And then it wasn’t until midway through 2020 that we got a phone call from Kevin saying that they were interested in bringing the characters back.” Source link via The Novum Times

[spiinsparks]

         SURPRISE  ETCHED  OVER  THE  hedgehog’s  features.  less  so  because  of  amy’s  proposition  ,  and  moreso  because  —   ❝  y’know  ,  i  don’t  think  i’ve  ever  done  one  of  your  readings  before.  ❞  sure  he’d  seen  her  do  it  for  others.  he  definitely  knew  she  had  a  talent  for  it.  somehow  it’d  slipped  his  mind.

            ❝  how’s  it  supposed  to  work  again?  ❞

@heroichedgehammer​ / starter call !

[ichorai]

working in the dark ; poe dameron.

pairing ; poe dameron x mechanic!reader

synopsis ; poe should know better than to sneak up on you in the dark.

words ; 1.6k

themes ; fluff, suggestive, mechanic au

warnings / includes ; mild violence/injury, makeout scene that alludes to sex, poe's a sassy love-sick bastard, finn just wants to eat in peace

main masterlist.

Poe could never understand your inexplicable need to torture yourself by working in the dark. It did horrors for your eyes, he’d often tell you, only to be met by your nonchalant shrug and an easy grin. Apparently, you had a hypothesis that the absence of light would somehow conjure up enough motivation for you to finish the upgrades to the black squadron’s X-Wings—though Poe wasn’t entirely sure of the validity of your experiment, he decided to drop by your quarters and say hello.

It took his eyes a couple seconds to adjust to the dimness of the room. Faintly, he could make out your silhouette shuffling to and fro, a wrench bit down between your teeth and manuals crammed under your arms as you frantically worked at the frayed wirings of a broken torpedo launcher.

The first mistake he made was turning up unannounced—he knew how much you liked routine—and how much you hated surprises. 

The second mistake was the fact that he approached you silently, despite the ample time he was given to call out your name.

But, alas, Poe kept his mouth uncharacteristically shut and crept towards you with a mischievous grin tugging at the corner of his lips. 

Poe got around half a second of jubilant hilarity upon seeing you jump up nearly twenty feet in the air when he tapped your shoulder—before a fist promptly collided with the side of his face and stars exploded behind his vision.

Kriff, you had a killer left hook. Poe supposed he deserved that.

“Maker!” you whisper-yelled around the wrench between your teeth, briefly pausing to rip it out of your mouth and tossing it back into your toolbox. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Poe. Are you okay? Don’t sneak up on me like that! Did I hurt you? How did you even get in here? Are you bleeding? Maker, I can’t see anything in here!” The words fell past your lips in a panicked jumble, and Poe could only pick up half of what you were saying before your hands were all over his head.

Groaning softly, he pressed his face into your palm, relishing in the way your fingers pleasantly grazed over his stubble. It disappointed him when your touch gently rescinded and you took a small step backwards to squint at him in the darkness.

“I’m turning the lights on. Maker, Poe, I’m really sorry,” you murmured, disappearing from his view for a second before he heard the click of the light switch across the room and everything was doused in a bright, artificial luminescence. You came back into view, eyes wide and teeth worrying into your bottom lip. Now that he could see you better, he spotted the streak of black grease smudged messily over the side of your face, and the unkempt state of your clothes. 

Poe tilted his head, duly ignoring the aching throb around his eye socket where you had decked him. “So, I’m guessing working in the dark doesn’t help you finish things quicker? Shocker.”

Nimbly, your fingers lodged itself beneath his chin, gently rotating his face around to get a good look at him. “I was doing just fine until you showed up, thank you very much.” You glowered slightly in thought, and Poe couldn’t help but find the way your nose wrinkled ever so endearing. “You’re good. I think.”

“Oh, so you were doing fine, huh?” Poe teased, grinning wolfishly, nearly preening when you rolled your eyes and brushed past him. Riling you up was his favorite pastime. “Maybe I’ll look into having your lights permanently taken away—anything for my best mechanic to work in optimum conditions.”

You shot him a nasty stink eye. “You’re not funny, Poe,” you asserted, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“I’m a little funny,” he said as he leaned in closer until his nose was just inches away from yours. This near to you, Poe could smell the faint aroma of your minty spritzer and traces of something else earthy that he just couldn’t seem to get enough of. You reminded him of home, and he missed home so much. 

Not bothering to grace him with a response, your hand came up once more to brush your fingers over his cheekbone. “Promise me you’ll ice this, Poe. I don’t want to see you all bruised up tomorrow. Does it hurt?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” he assured you, grinning slightly, despite the fact that it did hurt—very much so. But you didn’t need to know that. “I just wanted to come say hi. I missed you.”

You ducked your head. “You interrupted my work.”

“Didn’t seem like you were getting much done, baby.”

“Oh, shut it.”

Finally, finally, Poe’s arms snaked out to loop over your waist, dragging you closer until his nose was flush against your hairline. “Make me,” he whispered into your skin, and your fists curled into his tunic, yanking him nearer until his lips sealed over yours. He rumbled deep within his chest when one of your hands left the lapels of his shirt to creep into his raven curls, tugging at the roots just the way he liked it. You were overwhelming every single one of his senses and he was doing absolutely nothing but succumb to your scalding touch. 

He kissed you as if it was both the first and last time he’d be able to do so—holding you so tight you were beginning to wonder if this was his form of getting back at you for punching him.

His lips moved frantically, parting so that his teeth could nip playfully at your own, and you hummed in part-annoyance, part-pleasure, shifting your head upwards so he could kiss down your cheeks and jaw, settling at your neck whilst susurrating a low purr of contentment. There, he bit at your skin with a smile, paying special attention to your pulse point, where he could feel your heart thundering over his tongue.

Eventually, you pulled him back up so he could notch his nose back against yours and steal your air away until you were breathless. It didn’t even register in your head when he started walking you backwards (the toolbox knocked against your ankle painfully), pressing you into the broken X-Wing you were working on—which most certainly wasn’t safe but your mind was hazy and it was very much Poe’s fault. The cool metal against your back made your eyes shoot open with initial shock, but immediately squeezed closed again when he raised his hand to tenderly maneuver your chin to the side so he could kiss you even harder. 

As soon as Poe started sneaking his hand lower to undo your work trousers, your fingers unraveled within his mussed hair and grabbed at his wrist before he could go too far, breaking away from him with a heaving chest and an accusatory glare. 

“I have work to do,” you murmured against him, only a hair's breadth away from losing every bit of your composure. Eyes hooded with want, he nodded his head dazedly but continued his ministrations as if he hadn’t heard you at all. With a chortle, you grabbed at his face to land three quick, consecutive kisses on his lips and proceeded to hurriedly waltz away from him despite his whiny protests. “I have work to do, Poe! And I’m nearly a hundred percent certain you do, too!”

“That can wait,” came his impatient grumble. “It’ll take like—five minutes tops.”

You snorted out loud at that, bending down to pick your wrench back up. “Don’t lie to me. Knowing you, we’d go on and on and on and on—” 

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” He wrapped himself behind you, teasingly biting at your ear. You could hear the smile in his voice.

“It’d be nicer to finish my job without you in the way,” you bit out with a slight edge to your tone, but turned around in his arms nonetheless so you could place a soft kiss on his stubbled jaw. “I promise I’ll make it up to you later tonight. Deal?”

“Anything I want?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Deal!” He grinned brightly, pecking your nose once before relinquishing his hold on you, sauntering away while whistling out something that suspiciously sounded like, “Anything I want, huh?”

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the X-Wing. Poe Dameron was going to be the death of you.

Poe weaved through the hungry throng of people in the cantina, politely nodding hello to his comrades when they waved at him with slight concern etched across their features. He sat down besides Finn with a sigh, reaching over to snatch an apple off his breakfast tray and taking a bite.

“Hey! I was gonna eat that,” Finn grumbled around a mouthful of bread. When he turned to look at his friend, the snappy words faltered on his tongue and he exclaimed, “What the kriff happened to you? Why do you have a black eye?”

Poe paused mid-chew. “What? Oh. Oh, this old thing.” His fingers raised up to trace the tender bruise. He really hadn’t thought about it much—you kept him more than occupied last night. At the thought of you, his eyes darted over to the other end of the cantina, where he saw you sitting on the table with a subtle grin, listening to the other mechanics animatedly chattering. Maker, he was so in love with you it nearly hurt. Well, technically it did hurt. The black eye was physical proof of that. 

Poe slung an arm over Finn’s shoulders after swallowing down the large bite of apple he took. The latter looked at the former as if he’d grown a second head, but Poe kept his heart-shaped gaze trained on you. “I’m in love, man. That’s why.”

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Caretaker.

Pairing: Yandere!Diluc x F. Reader (Genshin Impact).

Word Count: 3.7k.

TW: Timeskip (About 10 Years Post-Canon), Non-Con, Rough Sex, Slight Breeding Kink, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Intimidation, Mentions of Blood/Injury, Implied Past Trauma.

You should’ve made more tea.

Or, tea that kept for more than an hour, at least. You would’ve preferred something stronger, earl grey or assam, but Cecil’s favorite had always been peppermint, and Diluc kept it in overstock year around, and it was easy to make, easier than anything you would've liked more. It’d dropped below room temperature half an hour ago, lost all remaining flavor five minutes later, and you were left to trace a finger around the rim of your porcelain cup, to stare at the portraits of dead men with blank stares that decorated the walls of the Dawn Winery’s main hall and wish you hadn’t insisted that Adelinde get some rest while you wait for Master Diluc to return on your own.

It wasn’t like this was outside of your normal routine. Even if Diluc had returned at a reasonable hour, if Adelinde hadn’t made the mistake of voicing her concerns, you’d likely be woken up within the hour by another maid, told that Cecil had another nightmare and sent to his bedroom to comfort him. You’d be lucky to close your eyes again before sunrise, when you were tasked with organizing his schedule, contacting his tutors, and relaying his progress to Diluc, of course, his fatherly concern greater and less proactive than most’s. Losing a little sleep wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. You’d doubted you’d remember such a minor inconvenience, in a few hours.

Still, you would’ve preferred to lose that sleep with better tea.

Ah, speak of the archons. Cecil was a quiet kid, too shy for his own good, and yet, you would’ve been able to recognize his footsteps from the other side of Mondstadt, quick and clumsy, not unlike that of a newborn deer. He was running by the time he arrived at the main hall, and he didn’t bother to slow down when he found you, letting himself collide with your legs at full force, his face soon buried in your lap and his tiny hands grasping at your skirt. You only clicked your tongue, reaching down to comb a hand through his messy hair. Darker than his father’s, just as eye-catching. You’d have to brush it out properly, tomorrow morning.

“Another nightmare?” You asked, keeping your tone soft, light.

There was no response. Then, a small nod.

“About the soldiers?”

“About father.”

You sighed, more out of sympathy than frustration. You waited for him to breathe, to relax, to raise his head and let go off you and pull himself into the little nook you’d tucked yourself into, a make-shift booth that'd been built into the wall decades ago. His eyes were bloodshot, downcast. He must’ve been reading, after you put him to bed. Adelinde would urge you to chide him, but Diluc would only grin and tell you to keep his library stocked. “He’s late,” You admitted, albeit hesitantly. Patronizing him would’ve been pointless. He was better at seeing through lies than most adults, and you’d already learned your lesson, on that front. “But, I’m sure he’s alright. You remember what the maids always say about your father, don’t you?”

That earned a small, fragile smile. “There’s no sword in Mondstadt that can best his claymore.”

“That’s right.” You allowed yourself a small smile, too. “And, if he could pluck the stars front the sky and give them all to his son, he’d do it in a heartbeat. He wouldn’t leave the manor unless he knew he could come back to you, safe and sound.”

Cecil was beginning to bite the inside of his cheek. It was a bad habit, but one you could talk about later, on a better day. “What if he got hurt?”

“That’s why I’m here, right?” You winked, patting the spot just underneath your hip, the orb of glass and metal hidden underneath your apron. “I wouldn’t mind letting him in on our little secret.”

Cecil giggled, this time, and some of his anxiety seemed to fade. Not a lot, but just enough to give you hope that one of you would be able to sleep tonight, even if you doubted you’d be so lucky, yourself. “Do you think he’ll come home soon? I…” He shifted, nervously. It was a good kind of nervous, though. The excess energy of a spoiled child ready to flourish under his father’s attention. “I’d like to eat breakfast with him. With you, too. All three of us, together.”

It was easier said than done, but you grinned and stifled a laugh and ruffled his hair until he tried to bat your hand away, releasing an agitated huff when you refused to budge. “I’ll see what I can do,” You said, sweeping his bangs out of his face before letting him go. “But, you have to get yourself to bed, first. If you stay up any later, you’ll sleep straight through until lunch.”

He pouted, and he complained, but with another minute of teasing, another yawn, he was on his way to his room, and you were left alone. In a manor as busy as the Dawn Winery, even something as simple as a meal was hard to promise, but Cecil was a good kid, mild-mannered to a fault, and it’d be a shame to disappoint him now, after he clearly gathered up so much courage just to ask. You could only hope Diluc would be generous enough to lend you a few hours of his time, when he returned.

You moved to take another tiny, tasteless sip, but the sound of a hollow thud draw your attention to the entryway, to the mass of black fabric and tangled red hair dragging itself through it. You waited until he’d shut the door behind him, until his frantic breathing steadied into something just as labored, but more paced than his prior, feverish panting. You placed your mug on the short, wooden table in front of you, creating a hollow thud no louder than a footstep on thick carpeting, and his head snapped up, his eyes toward you.

It took him a moment to say anything, but no more than a moment. “Where’s Adelinde?”

His shirt was torn, red staining white fabric and dripping from a long gash along his torso. It was getting on the rug. “She’s already retired for the night.”

“And my son?”

“Cecil’s asleep, for now.” You stood up, brushing off your skirt. “I told him you’d be able to have breakfast with us. I didn’t think I’d have to question whether or not you would survive that long.”

You approached him slowly, and he let you, remaining silent as you pulled his arm over your shoulders and worked your own around his midriff. He hesitated, but relented quickly enough, slumping against your side. “My chambers,” He muttered, his voice low, raspy. “I don’t want anyone else to see me like this.”

You only nodded. “Of course, Master Diluc.”

His room was on the second floor, in the farthest wing of his manor, and you tried to keep his weight off of his injury as you pulled him forward, pretending you didn’t notice the way he swore under his breath, how the gash across his chest seemed to grow wider with every step. When you finally reached your destination, it was all he could do to collapse onto his bed, wrinkling expensive satin sheets as he struggled to keep himself upright.

“Lock the door,” He ordered, and obeyed, wordlessly. When you finished, he was already unbuttoning what was left on his shirt, shrugging it off, exposing all the minor wounds you’d failed to notice, earlier – scrapes, cuts, burns, what you could only guess was mild frostbite. You winced before you could stop yourself, and Diluc caught you, smiling absentmindedly. “Two abyss mages, maybe three. I’d usually be more presentable, but… this one caught me off-guard.” His hand drifted to his side, to the burnt skin that covered it. “Does blood bother you, (Y/n)?”

“No, it’s just…” You thought of Cecil, of the last time you’d taken him into the city, of how he’d tugged at your sleeve whenever he saw something that reminded him of his childhood idol, and allowed yourself to smile, too. “Cecil’s going to be devastated when he finds out you know the Darknight Hero and haven’t introduced him, yet.”

That drew out a laugh, but it was cut short by a soft, pained hiss. He doubled over, and you rushed over to him, moving to rest a hand on his back before thinking better of it and latching onto your own wrist, instead. “Master Dil—”

“Bandages. There’s a roll in my wardrobe. I can handle the rest on my—”

You didn’t let him finish. You weren’t used to it, the strain, the energy it took, but the breeze came naturally, cold and sharp, winding around your arms and your legs and around Diluc, too, in a soft, slow cyclone.

You kept your eyes closed, but you could feel the world around you, the wind outside, his injuries – open and torn, then healing, then gone completely, phantoms of pain that only existed in memories and the scars they left behind, the rough patches of skin you weren’t skilled enough to smooth over. You could feel your Vision, heavy at your waist, still hidden but undoubtedly glowing bright enough to be seen. It felt good to use it. It felt right. It wasn’t something you had the luxury of using very often, even if you always kept it on-hand. It wasn’t something you should let yourself use, now, but you'd told Cecil you would. The last thing you wanted to do was start breaking your promises, now.

Neither of your spoke after you finished. Diluc broke the silence, first. “I didn’t know you had a Vision.”

“No one ever asked.”

“You could’ve joined the Knights, or the Adventure’s Guild. Either would kill for a Vision bearing recruit” It was an observation, not a question. You didn’t respond, you couldn’t, not without admitting how weak you really were, how rarely you could afford to heal anything but scraped knees and low fevers, but Diluc didn’t seem to need you to. His eyes were clouded over, his speech still slurring. You’d fixed him up as thoroughly as you could, but he’d lost a lot of blood. Adelinde would have to keep an eye on him, tomorrow. “Why are you working for me?”

“Cecil’s a lovely boy, and I’ve always been good with kids. I thought my talents would be better used here than on the battlefield or behind a desk.” Diluc looked at you, doubtfully. You dropped your gaze to the floor, sitting down next to him. “My current salary is twice what it would’ve been, with the Knights. I need mora more than I need blood on my hands.”

“I’ll give you a raise, after this.” He’d almost certainly forget, but you appreciated the sentiment. “But you do have to answer by question, first.”

“I want to be comfortable.” Not a lie, but not the truth, either. Not the exhaustion, or the hunger, or the nights spent in filthy, crowded taverns, serving drinks and smiling until your cheeks hurt and letting drunken, pink-faced men grope at whatever they could reach just so the owner would treat you to a cold meal and a few hours of sleep in the storeroom, or the relief you'd felt when Barbatos gave you his blessing, when you were given something to prove you were worth more than a life spent struggling to get by.

Diluc had only ever showed you hospitality, and there was no doubt in your mind that he was a kind man, but he was a rich man, too, one raised too far from the city to understand the kind of suffering its walls could inflict. He couldn’t understand how you’d really lived before you came to the Dawn Winery, and you had no interest in trying to change that. “I’d like to travel, too, once I have enough saved up and Cecil gets too old for a nanny, and I want to learn how to use my Vision properly, but… I’m alright with just being comfortable, for now. I really just want to be comfortable.”

He shifted, repositioning himself, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. “I could keep you comfortable, if that’s all you want.”

Something twisted in your chest. You smile cracked, then fell away completely. “Master Diluc, I—”

“Cecil adores you. You’re all he talks about. I feel like I’m the one you’re looking after, sometimes.” You tried to stand up, but his hand shot your arm, holding you in place. His grip wasn’t tight, not yet, but the threat was there, and that was enough. It could hurt. He could hurt you, and it was hard not to imagine that he would, if you tied to pull away. “Adelinde speaks fondly of you, too. I’ve never seen her so impressed by another servant, let alone a nanny. Part of me still can’t believe you’ve earned her favor so quickly.”

“With all due respect, I’m not—”

“You’d make a good wife.” A pause, a sharp tug, dragging you back into the spot you’d been a moment ago. As if you’d never moved. As if you hadn’t already refused. “You’d have free rein over my manor, and my fortune – within limits, obviously. I could make you happy, keep you safe.” He was closer than he had been, than you wanted him to be. You didn’t dare try to push him away. “You’d be comfortable, with me. I’ll make sure you’re comfortable.”

You considered screaming, but thought better of it quickly. The door was locked, and Cecil’s room was the closest, just down the hall. No child should have to see his own father acting so… acting like this. “Please, sir, you need to rest. You’re not thinking straight. You lost a lot of blood, and—”

“And you’re being stubborn.” Blunt nails bit into your skin, nearly drawing blood. Now, it hurt. “Honestly, I expected more from you. This is no way to treat your husband.”

As soon as the words made it off his tongue, you bolted. Ripping yourself out of his hold, you moved to make a run for the door, but even injured, even delirious, even half-dead, Diluc was still stronger than you could ever hope to be. Before you could take a step, you were on the ground, on your stomach, Diluc on top of you, pinning your wrists to the small of your back with one hand and the other tearing at the collar of your dress, at the strings of your apron. This time, you screamed, too panicked to care who might hear, but Diluc covered your mouth before you could make a sound. “Don’t,” He spat. Not a question, not a warning. Just an order, the kind you’d let yourself get a little too used to obeying. “I can make this good for both of us, or I can make this good for me. Is that what you want, (Y/n)?”

You didn’t respond at all, at first.

Then, you felt the heel of his palm digging into your spine, his breath on the back of your neck, and reluctantly, you shook your head.

It was a slow, jerky motion, obviously forced, but he laughed and pulled away, regardless. “I’ve been dying to do this since the day you arrived.” His voice was lower, now, calmer, and he took the time to unbutton your dress rather than tear at it, to let it slip over your shoulders, to make you feel that much more exposed. You heard your Vision hit the floor, solid and chiming. Something inside of you cracked. “You’d be such a good mother to Cecil. It’s nearly been a decade since he’s had one, and he’s got a bias towards you. He’ll be ecstatic, once I tell him the news.” Another soft chuckle, a warm hand splayed over your shoulder blade. You felt sick. “Once we tell him the news. He’ll be disappointed if you’re not there.”

You felt his hand on your waist and curled into yourself, instinctively, but he was only lifting you up, placing you on the center of his bed, leaving your dress on the floor. It was a small dignity, so late and so insignificant, it almost made you feel more pathetic as he positioned himself between your legs.

He was older than you, more experienced, and it showed in the way he traced his thumb over your slit before pushing your panties to the side, the way his lips brushed against your collarbone as he buried two fingers in your cunt, how he pried and scissored and stretched you open until your thighs were shaking and your silence was interrupted by little, whiny nothings. You let your head lull to the side, your eyes clench shut, but you could still feel it, harsh and intrusive, and he was still on top of you, his chest hovering just above yours, his mouth on your neck, pressing soft, wet kisses into whatever he could reach. It was disgusting, it was repulsive, it was—

He pulled away, and you whimpered, the noise pathetic, pitchy.

The shame was instant, loathing for him and for yourself taking its place a second later. Not that it made a difference, to Diluc.

“That’s my good girl.” You felt his hand on your jaw, his fingers still damp with your slick. He wasn’t rough, but he didn’t have to be, not when he was so close to you, warmth radiating off of him like a secondary sun, not when he kissed you like that, hard enough to bruise, deep enough to leave you squirming and breathless and frantically trying to shove at his chest. By the time he pulled away, your lungs ached, and he was smiling, grinning from ear to ear. “Such a fragile little thing. You never would’ve made it on your own, but I’m here. I’ll take care of you. I’ll keep you safe.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt his thumb run across your cheek, until you opened your eyes and noticed how blurry your sight had gotten, how easily the world was reduced to a smear of black silk and red hair, scarlet and bright. Like fire.

Like blood.

“I’m not—” Your voice was shaking. It made you sound smaller than you actually were, weaker. “I have a Vision, I’m not fragile—”

“Even the archons can make mistakes.” You heard the click of a belt, the sound of fabric against fabric. A terrible, cracked sob slipped past your lips before you could choke it down, but Diluc only cooed, above you, purring at the sound of your misery. “You belong here, with your family. With me.”

You tried to respond, to deny it, but something nudged against your entrance, thick and hard and burning, and it was all you could do not to sob any louder.

He tried to be gentle, at first. He moved slowly, kept his hands on your hips, let you bite moans of pain and pleasure indiscriminately, but as soon as he bottomed out, as soon as you clenched around him, your body reacting despite your mind’s desperate attempts to make it stop, he growled, bared his teeth, pulled back and began to thrust into you with no reservation, no dignity, no regard. There was more pressure than anything, on the back of your throat, on your stomach, on your pussy, tying knots in your core, letting all the heat and friction and everything build up until it was unbearable just to think, just to try and distance yourself from your own helplessness. It didn’t hurt, not really, not the way you wished it would, but you couldn’t rationalize it, tuck it away in some deep, dark corner of your mind and wait for it to end. You couldn’t get away from it.

You couldn’t get away from him.

There was a grunt, then his hands drifting, falling, wrapping around your thighs and wrenching them upward, into your chest, folding you over entirely and letting himself abuse that soft, sensitive spot inside of you, too deep not to make you cry out. If Diluc was perturbed, if he’d heard you at all, you couldn’t tell. His face was already buried in the crook of your neck, his mouth already moving, rambling about nothing. It was gibberish, nonsensical to your hazy mind and spiraling thoughts. You couldn’t make out a word.

Not until his hips faltered, at least until his pace slowed for just a fraction of a second and, with the softest tone you’d ever heard from him, he finally said something you understood.

“You’re going to be such a good mother.”

Instantly, you wished you hadn’t heard anything at all.

But, it was too late. You couldn’t block anything out, anymore, not white dots blotting out your vision, not the tension in your body suddenly dissolving into a kind of ecstasy so overwhelming, it almost hurt, and not the feeling of Diluc’s teeth digging into your neck, of something hot spilling into you, burning, letting it spill out of your cunt and drip down your thighs as he rode out his own orgasm, nursing you through yours, at the same time.

Even after he stopped moving, he didn’t pull out. He stayed there, above you, inside of you, and when you looked away, curled into yourself, he kept himself busy by taking one of your hand, intertwining your fingers with his. It was almost sweet. It was almost comforting, in some twisted, broken way.

It was almost enough to distract you from wide his smile was, how happy he looked.

Happier than you’d ever seen him, before.

[ragingbookdragon]

She's A Bird! She's A Plane! She's...Spiderwoman?

Justice League x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3.3K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: IDK where this came from but I was watching ITSV, so...there's that. Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

“This is your fault,” Barry griped, hacking away at the glowing fauna with the makeshift machete—in reality it was just a really big stick that had a really sharp rock tied to the end. “I told you our trajectory was off and what did you do? You said, ‘I’m Hal Jordan, the greatest pilot in the world. Watch my big head crash us on an alien planet where our central battery gets displaced during the impromptu crash land and thrown miles from our position’.”

“Do you want some cheese with all that whine, Bar?” Hal asked, an unimpressed scowl on his face as he illuminated their footpath. “It’s not my fault the orbital windspeeds were faster than the sensors picked up on. Blame the tech, not me.”

“That sounds like you’re just trying to pass off the blame,” he shot back, swiping down at another vine that wriggled like a dying snake and spat out fluorescent blue liquid on the broken end. “Y’know? Like you do best?”

“Seriously, find a better thing to do than complain, Flash. We’ve got bigger fish to fry than blaming each other.”

“Each other? I didn’t do anything! This was all you!” Barry spun on Hal and glared at him.

They glowered at each other when a clicking sound echoed above them and they both jumped a foot in the air, spinning back-to-back as they looked around in every direction, up and down and side to side.

“What the hell was that?” Hal worried.

“I don’t know,” Barry replied, just as concerned. “It sounded like clacking.”

“That did not sound like a chicken.”

“Clacking, Hal, not clucking.”

“Same thing,” he retorted, lifting his arm in the air, shining a bright green light amongst the glowing red treetops. A bunch of branches, neon red leaves and purple flowers, a darting limb—a darting limb?

Hal shifted the light back, jolting Barry’s shoulder in the process. “What is it?”

“There’s something above us,” he whispered, watching with cautious eyes as something shifted on the main branch of the tree, the outline of a dark head coming out, just enough to catch the edge of their bright gold eye. “It’s watching us.”

The something shifted back into cover, the clacking sounding once more, then the treetop ruffled, dropping red and purple fauna on the two men as it jumped to another tree. Hal tried to follow it, but it was too fast for his eyes; the only thing it left behind though was a string of long white webbing, hanging down from the blue tree branch. And Hal being the idiot he was, decided to touch it to see if he could figure out what it was, and only managed to get it all over his hands.

He pouted, trying to pull apart his hands. “It’s sticky.”

Barry let out a long and heavy sigh, placing one hand at the small of his best friend’s back, the other holding the machete. “Come on, dumb-dumb. Let’s go find that thing again.”

“Isn’t that the opposite of how the survivors live? I know we’re white, but I didn’t think we were that white.” He was half tempted to see if he could gnaw the webbing with his teeth. “This shit isn’t coming off.”

“Here,” Barry said, vibrating his hand as fast as he could and to Hal’s surprise, the webbing cut, falling to the ground.

“Thanks!” he chirped, holding his arm out again to shine his ring. “What do you think that thing was?”

“Alien lifeform.”

“No shit, Sherlock. What gave it away? The alien world?”

“I’ve just about had it with you,” Barry growled, cutting through another rough patch of vines. As the path cleared, they stepped out of the heavily forested area to see one older tree in the center of the circle. It rested atop what looked like an ancient cave, the rocks crumbling around the front.

“I’m not going in there,” Hal immediately stated. “You couldn’t pay me all the money the US owes in debt to go in there. Fuck that.”

“You’re such a big baby,” Barry chuckled, walking up to the entrance; it was about the twelve feet high and ten feet wide, big enough for the two of them to walk in. “Come on. It went in here.”

“Barry, please! Why aren’t you more worried about this?” Hal begged. “You should be more worried!”

“Hal, if it wanted to hurt us, it would’ve done so already.”

“Or maybe it’s luring us to our deaths!” he countered, even though he was following Barry into the cave.

There was more webbing along the walls of the cave, swirling around patterns of purple and blue. The farther they walked the stickier it got, and at one point, they were struggling to lift their feet off the cave floor to take the next step.

“Christ, what is this stuff?” Hal asked and Barry bent down, poking at the webbing.

“It’s like spider webbing, but stickier and stronger.” He vibrated his hand to dislodge it from the strings, then did it around Hal’s feet. “You might wanna float for now. I’ll vibrate my feet to keep from sticking.”

“Good idea,” Hal agreed, lifting a few inches off the ground. “Do you think the lifeform is intelligent?”

“Intelligent us or just intelligent?”

“Intelligent us.”

“Anything’s possible. It seemed sentient so I believe it’s probably intelligent.”

“What do you define as intelligent, Barry?” Hal questioned and the forensic scientist hummed.

“If it’s capable of calculus it’s intelligent.”

“Really? If it can do math homework you think it’s worthy?”

“Calculus is a difficult skill. You need the ability to think and to calculate in order to solve and understand it. That requires sentience and intellige—oh shit!” Barry’s words tipped into a yelp as the ground gave way beneath him and he sunk down, shouting all the way.

Hal’s eyes shot wide, and he flew down the hole. “Barry!” he yelled. “Barry where are—oof!” he collided with more of the webbing, this time enough that the entire left side of his body was stuck to it.

“Hal! You okay!”

He looked over, seeing Barry stuck on his back. “I’m okay? You!”

Barry nodded. “I’ve been better. What is this?” they looked around the best they could. Spiral upon spiral of iridescent webbings surrounded them, stuck to the walls for support, them in the center.

Hal’s eyes narrowed and he glowered at Barry. “I fucking told you it was luring us here.”

“Shut u—”

The clacking sounded above them and with panic, they both turned their eyes to the ceiling, watching as the alien lowered down near them. It looked like a human, two arms and two legs, no extra limbs at all. Hell, it didn’t even look like an alien spider; it just looked like a normal human, gazing down at them with two normal eyes. That was until it opened all six of its golden eyes and stared down at them with it’s mouth open, two one-inch fangs protruding from where the canines were.

“Ohshitohshitohshit,” Hal whispered, about to shit himself in terror.

The alien reached for Barry, and he watched as his friend sunk back into the webbing from the outstretched hand. Except he couldn’t go any farther and turned his head to the side, quietly whimpering as the long black claws touched his cheek.

“Barry!” Hal hissed and blue eyes met his, then,

“Friends!” the alien shouted. “New friends for Rhiezheveir to have!”

Their expressions pinched in confusion as the being started to twirl in the air, one hand holding to the webbing they’d lowered down on, the other elegantly flowing in the air.

“You can understand us?” Barry wondered and they looked down.

“Yes!” leaning down, they got in his face, and he saw the rather feminine looking features. “Rhiezheveir saw the ship come in the sky and land! I waited until you left it to search! The ship’s memory functions in this language!” she seemed rather excited. “Rhiezheveir found the core you were looking for! I did not know how to get you here to return it!”

She climbed up the webbing, disappearing quickly only to reappear with the ship’s core under her free arm. “Here it is! Rhiezheveir brought it back!”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Hal inquired and she lowered down next to his face, hers right in front of his.

“Saying what?”

“Rhieza-something-reservoir?”

“Rhiezheveir?” she offered, and he nodded.

“Yeah, that.”

“Rhiezheveir is my name! I am named after the brightest star in the Kosialaran sky!”

“In the what sky?” Barry asked.

“Kosialaran!” she answered. “This planet’s name! My planet!”

“Are there more of you?” Hal questioned. “You’re the only intelligent life we’ve seen besides bloodthirsty beats trying to eat us.”

“Yes, I saw you fight with the Erqurcus. They are not nice lizards. They like to bite Rhiezheveir when she tries to feed them.”

“Why do you refer to yourself in the third person?” Barry piped up. “Sometimes you use first too.”

“In Aissaveed culture, we commonly refer to ourselves in the third, though I learned from watching, that humans use first. Rhiezheveir is learning to mix them.” She smiled and the clacking sounded again.

Hal tried to look at her. “What is that noise?”

Bending down to his face again, she flashed her fangs. “They click when I get excited!”

Barry cleared his throat. “Um, Rhiezheveir, are there more of your kind in the area?”

“Not here. On the other side of the planet there is. Rhiezheveir has travelled far to get away from her people’s hunters. They do not like me.”

“How come?”

“Rhiezheveir broke tradition. Refused to be royal consort. Fled and hid here.” She let the tips of her toes touch the delicate silk webbing and then crouched, the web bouncing lightly with the weight. “Rhiezheveir is not welcome amongst her people anymore. I am alone now.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Barry murmured, even empathetical of the alien. “You’re here all alone?”

“Yes! Though not anymore!” she patted both Hal and Barry’s thighs. “New friends!”

Hal wiggled. “I hate to break it to you, Reservoir, but—”

“Rhiezheveir,” she corrected, and he sighed.

“Rhiezheveir. But we have to get back to our own planet. We have responsibilities.”

Barry nodded. “We need to get back to our ship.” he tugged against the webbing. “Can you help us get out of this? We’re stuck.”

“Of course!” she chirped, starting to snip the webbing with her claws.

“Wait a second!” Hal exclaimed. “There’s nothing underneath meAHHHHH!” the last thread snapped, and Hal tumbled down the dark and dimly lit cavern.

“Rhiezheveir!” Barry yelled. “What are you doing!”

She held up a finger in a wait motion, then a wet plop sounded, followed by, “NEVERMIND! I’M OKAY! THIS WATER SMELLS FUNNY THOUGH!”

The Speedster sighed. “Oh, there’s water down there.”

She looked at Barry oddly. “Rhiezheveir would not try to kill her new friends. That is not nice.” Snipping the lines around him, she held on as he fell and she let out a squeal as they dropped, though as Barry hit the water, she merely held on to the web in her hand, just above the body.

Barry broke the water and spit out the remaining in his mouth. “Water tastes funny too.”

Hal rolled his eyes. “Rhiezheveir, how do we get out of here?”

She smiled. “Follow me!” she shot out her free hand and another string of webbing left her hand, attaching to the roof of the cavern; letting go with her other hand, she swung like a monkey on a vine, then repeated the process, alternating her hands. And boy she was fast. Barry and Hal had to freehand like they were in the Olympics to keep up, and even then, it wasn’t fast enough.

***

By the time they made it back to the ship, their hair and clothes had dried off. They noticed that she didn’t like to be on the ground and crawled along the tree limbs above them. Bioluminescent flower petals shook from the branches every time she moved, creating an aura of beautiful red and purple around them.

Barry took the battery from her and slot it back into place, watching as they ship powered back to life; he walked over to Hal who was sitting in the first seat. “Everything good?”

Hal nodded. “A few nicks here and there, but the engine and all other vital systems are good.” He looked up. “We should be good to go once the power levels reach operational.”

The Speedster smiled and turned to her. “Well, Rhiezheveir, this is goodbye.”

She merely blinked. “What do you mean goodbye? I am coming with you.”

“There’s not enough room,” Hal said, and she smiled, those fangs clacking as she raised her arms.

“I will make myself small!” her dark body illuminated in a bright gold, then the shape began to shrink and shift, eight long legs appearing out of the main shape that had evolved into two orb like shapes. When the glow dispersed, she raised her front legs and waved, then skittered up Barry’s leg and body to his head.

“I have a spider on my head.” He said dumbly. “I have an alien spider nuzzling my hair.” Barry looked at Hal. “There’s a spider in my hair.”

Hal shrugged. “So long as it stays on you, we’re good.” He peered at her. “Rhiezheveir, can you understand us in there?”

She waved her front legs as Barry climbed into the ship, sitting on his seat; she scurried down his head to his shoulder and sat there, perfectly balanced, her beady golden eyes occasionally blinking.

“That’s a big ass spider,” Hal noted.

“She reminds me of a Goliath birdeater.”

“A what now?”

“Goliath birdeater. It’s the biggest spider on earth.” He examined her. “But her legs are so long…like a huntsman spiders’. I wonder if she’s got the abilities of different species?”

Barry reached up, holding out his hand and she climbed on it, letting him lower her to his lap. “Can you sit there while we take off, Rhiezheveir? Once were out of atmosphere, you can wander around the cockpit.”

All she merely did was raise her front legs and wave them once more before settling on his thighs, curling her legs in contently; he smiled down at her, then the realization of what bringing her meant and he blurted out, “I have no idea how we’re going to explain this to the others.”

“What do you mean?” Hal questioned.

Barry looked at him. “The crash land will be easy—you’re an idiot.” He ignored Hal’s outcry of offense and gestured to her. “How do we explain we picked up a shapeshifting spider…lady?”

Hal shrugged. “Hostile environment navigated by a peaceful intelligent lifeform who managed to be a stowaway?”

“I like the first half up until ‘who’.” Barry met his gaze. “She was threatened by her own people and begged to help her flee?”

The pilot pursed his lips. “We’ll need to use her reasoning for leaving. The whole royal consort business.”

“Sounds good.” Barry glanced down at her. “Rhiezheveir, does that sound—oh…I think she’s asleep.”

Hal looked down to Barry’s lap and sure enough, the hand-sized spider wasn’t moving on his legs other than the occasional leg twitch. “Sure she didn’t die?”

“Hal!” Barry hissed. “Don’t be mean!” he gently scratched her the top of her abdomen with his pointer finger.

“You’ve pack-bonded with a spider,” Hal noted. “Nice job, buddy.”

“Oh, come on. Like you don’t find her friendly.”

“She’s a spider.”

“She’s an alien who turns into a spider.” He watched the planet get smaller and smaller as they exited the orbit and into the stars. “Bruce isn’t going to be happy that we brought an alien back.”

“I think the pressing matter is that we have no idea what she eats.”

“Bugs?”

“You said she was an alien who turns into a spider, Bar. What’s she going to eat when she’s human…like?”

“Meat?” Barry wiggled his fingers in Hal’s side. “Man-flesh.”

Hal choked on a laugh, batting at the hand against his ribs. “Stop that.” He steered the ship through a debrief field with ease. “We’d better figure out or she’ll eat somebody in the middle of a fight.”

“In a fight?” Barry asked.

Hal shot him a look. “We didn’t take this Lady Spider with us just to get her off her home-world. She’s gonna help out somewhere.” He shrugged. “Might as well stick her in the Justice League.”

Barry’s lips pulled satisfactory. “That’s…actually a good idea.” He smiled. “I can’t wait to show her to Bruce. You know he doesn’t like spiders?”

“He’s scared of spiders?”

“I didn’t say he was scared of them, Hal. He just doesn’t like them. I think creepy crawlies make his skin crawl.”

Hal shoved him in the arm. “Don’t call her creepy crawly. She’s a pretty spider.”

“What happened to making fun of her?” Barry smirked. “You pack-bonded with the pretty alien spider lady, didn’t you?”

“Shut up,” Hal griped, going still when she shifted and crawled up the dash of the ship and stared out the window; she turned, waving her front legs. “Yeah Rhiezheveir? What is it?”

She pointed to the stars, drawing her front legs in downward arcs as if to say, “Wow!”

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Barry murmured and she did it again; he looked curiously at her. “Hey Rhiezheveir, you can understand us, right?”

She waved.

“Okay. Since you can’t talk to us until we get back, how about this—front legs up is ‘yes’ and front legs down is ‘no’. Do you understand?”

She lifted her legs up and he grinned.

“Good. Now, do you like warm places?”

Her legs went up, then down.

“Sort of?”

Up.

“You like warm and cool weather?”

Up.

“We’re going back to our world. There’re many habitats there. Some really hot and really cold. Others are in the middle.” He explained, watching her almost nod. “We’ll be meeting the group Hal and I work with on another ship. You’ll have to stay there for the time being. Is that okay?”

She lifted her legs up.

Hal leaned over. “Rhiezheveir, are you a spider that sometimes turns into a lady?”

Her legs stayed down.

“So, you’re a lady that sometimes turns into a spider?”

Up.

“Nice. Can you fight?”

Up and waving wildly.

Barry looked at Hal then back to her. “You said you refused the position of royal consort. Were you chosen because you could fight?”

Up.

“So, you escaped because you didn’t want to be forced into that position?”

Still up.

Barry nodded solemnly. “Rest assured, Rhiezheveir, you won’t be forced into anything like that on Earth. You’ll be free and able to live openly and not in hiding.”

Her legs stilled in the air, then the curled and Hal muttered, “I think you overwhelmed her emotionally.”

The Speedster cupped the spider in his hands, letting her crawl back into his lap. “Sorry, Rhiezheveir. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She merely snuggled into his lap and stayed there.

“Rhiezheveir,” Hal started. “Your name is really complicated for humans to say. While I think it would be a good identity for a superhero life, I think you should find an easier name for people to use.”

She waved a single leg, signaling she was listening.

“How about (Y/N)?”

Barry smiled. “Ooo, I like (Y/N). That’s a pretty name.”

She raised her front legs and waved them excitedly.

“I think Rhiezheveir likes it too.” He scratched her torso. “Welcome to the Justice League (Y/N). You’re gonna fit in perfectly.”

(Y/N) waved her front legs, rearing up on her back.

“HOLY FUCK LOOK AT THE SIZE OF HER FANGS!” Hal shouted.

[stuffems]

Night With A Centipede

Decided to write this out using a friend’s guard OC, Scotch, and my boy Faraday.

As always, Enjoy!

“Alright! Match adjourned, companions! To the showers with thee! We shall continue training on the ‘morrow.”

Just like that, training was done for the day and so Scotch and Red were sent out to the showers to clean up and relax until their next shift.

“Y’know I was close on that last duel. You’re just lucky they flagged us.” Red chuckled, taking off his armor. Scotch huffed in response, tucking away his helmet in his locker.

“Oh shut up! I’ll still kick your ass tomorrow and you know it.” Scotch growled, a small smirk creeping onto his face. 

The two cleaned themselves up and got ready to head back to their dormitories, chatting the whole way. 

“Alright. See ya in the mornin’!” Scotch called before splitting off to head to his room. Red waved him off as the yellow guard disappeared down a corner. “Man I’m hungry…probably should’ve eaten a bit more at dinner, I guess.”

Something seemed to follow Scotch as he proceeded. He couldn’t place what it was and no matter how many times he looked behind or around himself, no one was there. Probably his imagination, he tried to reason with himself.

Something snaked its way around his ankle and tugged hard downwards. Rather than trip or collide with the tile floor, however, Scotch noticed the floor giving way beneath him like an odd pool of sand. 

“What the fuck?!” He struggled at the force pulling him deeper and tried to grab hold of the floor in a desperate attempt to stay above ground. “HELP!! SOMEONE GET ME OUT! HELP—Grbk!” With hardly a ripple to leave behind, the yellow guard was pulled down below the floor into a vast and empty black.

——

When Scotch opened his eyes again, it was to an empty black void. There were no stars, no lights, just a vastness that went on seemingly forever. He floated here but it felt more like he was swimming in a sea made of gelatin. There was enough pushback to suspend him but it was thin enough to let him simply glide through it. 

“Hello? Is anyone there? Where am I?” Scotch asked the void. Nothing spoke back, of course. “Hello?” 

A ripple passed through the void, signalling the movement of something. Something large that lurked within the emptiness was stirring. Brilliant orange eyes glistened in the darkness before rising higher and higher, hovering high above Scotch. Their owner melted out from the darkness and they certainly didn’t look like a Nevadan of any shape or form. 

The being had sickly pale skin with mint green hair that was styled like someone of high esteem. The upper half of their face was perpetually shrouded in darkness that four orange eyes glittered from. Their face split in a white and pearly grin.

This massive being was dressed in a vibrant purple suit that seemed to flow on and on in segment after segment like an insect. The main issue was that they possessed not just two arms but six… no… more. More and more like the legs of a centipede that vanished into the black like the lengths of their long serpentine body.

“Hello there my little friend~!” The being hummed happily. “Sorry about the little snag but you must understand, I couldn’t help myself. Now, what is your name, darling?” He curled his body around Scotch, surrounding him but not grabbing him. 

“I-I’m Scotch, mighty yellow guard of Nexus Core!” The guard exclaimed, his face burning with a blush. “Who art thou?” 

“Ohhh I love that accent~! It’s so lovely.” The being chuckled, laying himself down with his chin resting on his hands. “I am Faraday~! I know you must be terribly confused as to why you’re here but I wouldn’t concern yourself too much about that.” 

“Faraday. Right. Why hast thou brought me here—“ Scotch was cut off by the growling of his own stomach. This made Faraday smirk mischievously which caused the guard’s face to become even more red. “Sh-Shut up.” 

“Seems someone is a little hungry~. Now I couldn’t let my darling guest starve!” With a wave of his hand, a table with countless food spawned from the darkness. Gently taking Scotch by the back of his shirt, Faraday set him into a chair at the end of the table. The guard looked up at the being hesitantly. “Go on! There’s plenty for you. Enjoy yourself~!” 

As suspicious as he was, Scotch figured this was some sort of weird dream that he’d been plopped into. With a bit of reluctance, the guard simply took a couple bites from the chicken in front of him as well as finished a bowl of soup. It filled him up well enough so he simply huffed and sat back. There was no need to eat too much, he wasn’t used to it. A hushed chattering drew Scotch’s attention back up to his “host.” Faraday had a strange pout on his face.

“I thought you were hungry?” The being asked, cupping his claws beneath Scotch and lifting him from the table. The table seemed to scatter into splinters but the dishes remained floating in the void. 

“I mean yeah but not that much. Now I’d like to wake up from this dream.” The guard said, crossing his arms and closing his eyes. Perhaps he could wake himself up by thinking about it. Of course, Faraday knew this was no dream. Somewhat hurt by the rejection of his meal, he raised one of his other hands and made a small flicking motion with his finger. In the same breath, one of the uneaten dishes popped out of existence before there was a sudden pressure in Scotch’s stomach. 

“Wh-urp! -What was that??” The guard fumbled, looking down at his stomach. He didn’t remember eating more. A happy churring from Faraday drew the guard’s attention again. The large being was grinning and did another flick of his finger. “What the hell are you laughing about- HIC!” Scotch’s stomach puffed out a bit more. 

It was obvious this being was using magic to fuck around with him. It had to be! Another flick and another large dish was materialized into Scotch’s already full stomach, causing his stomach to bloat out even more. Every word he tried to get out was cut off by a couple more food items being stuffed into his gut. Eventually, Faraday ceased his shenanigans, leaving the guard to lay down on his back and wheeze. 

“Feel better~?” Faraday chittered, leaning close to his bloated guest. With a great bit of care, he rubbed Scotch’s taut stomach with a single claw. This drew a sigh of relief from the guard.

“S-Sure…hic! Are we done now?” Scotch groaned. The being gave his stomach a gentle kiss before lifting him closer. 

“Of course, of course~. All full and happy, I’m sure you’re tired.” Faraday asked, drawing a nod from the guard. “Well, let's get you comfortable then~.” 

For a moment, Scotch didn’t realize what was going on until he was being held above the massive figure’s bright green maw oozing with black saliva. That’s when he began to flail and try to get free. 

“Hey! Wait! Put me down! I’m not your snack! I’ll kick your ass I swear to–” Scotch screamed until being unceremoniously dropped into Faraday’s mouth, the click of teeth stealing away the light for a moment. After his eyes adjusted, the guard realized that the internals of this thing glowed with a faint green light. He was rolled about like a piece of candy as Faraday savored the flavors. Butterscotch with a twinge of chai. How sweet and refreshing! 

With a swallow, Scotch was sent down into Faraday’s throat and towards his stomach. Well, one of them at least. Everything was full of that green light until eventually it all faded to black again. 

—---

The barracks were quiet, all of the other guards were sound asleep. Scotch had his own room, thankfully. No one would be around to hear him collide with his own bed from the ceiling, screaming. Hopping up almost immediately and ready to fight the nightmare creature he was trapped with, he slowly realized he was back in his own room. Not covered in monster saliva. Not stuffed full to bursting. But back home. 

“What the fuck…?” Was all Scotch could mutter as he looked around in pure confusion. Hopefully it was a dream. It had to be! Looking back to the time on his alarm clock, he realized that hardly any time had passed. Maybe it was a dream after all. “I severely need to get back to sleep.”

Grabbing the covers and getting comfortable, Scotch laid down for bed. No such dreams would slither into his head again. That was the hope, anyway.