#I AM GOING TO DRAW THIS ONE MARK MY FUCKING WORMS!!!!!

[welcometogrouchland]

Something something "I wear your grampas clothes, I look incredible" joke abt Luz wearing Belos' clothes

[tedspankoffskisbignaturals]

👉👈i'd like to hear about your drawing

OKAYOKAYOKAY SOOOOOOOOO

OUTLIARS AND HYPPOCRATES A FUN FACT ABOUT APPLES. WILBUR CROSS. HATCHETFIELD. I HAVE THIS BITCH PLANNED THE FUCK OUT.

UNDER THE CUT BECAUSE ITS LONG

highlighted in red is what i need suggestions for if anyone has them??

Did you know that the hole in the apple didn't come from the outside in?

(that one painting with wilbur (his eye is showing through a hole in the apple))

It was eaten from the core

(corpse on ground, knife through chest)

and out to the skin

(starting to stand up)

And that's why you'll never find the worm in it

(wilbur licking the bloody knife (FREAK))

But a few bad ones won't spoil the eyes,

(becky sitting in a tree, eyes around her)

if they fall far enough from the tree

(falling from the tree)

The rind is all you see, leave Eden with my

(wiggly cultists)

seeds in your stomach

(wiggly closeup)

Well, this disease is defined by its treatment,

(hands holding wiggly doll)

you people make me sick

(linda doing little hair flip thing because god i love her)

Parlance of imbalanced, cambia's been challenged at best

AstraZeneca's just theoretical

Prints of your fingers in the Rorschach jigsaw, say you saw a treasure map

Straight-jacket and tie, psychiatric supply, while we tragically try to fit into a trap, but

Who'd want to be human anyway? (Ay, ay, ay, ay)

Who pilots all these crude machines?

(pokey/hive)

Why'd you come into this world or come out that way?

(wilbur portal)

Like freaks of nurture, well, isn't it funny?

(Well, not ha-ha funny, but y'know, funny)

(crossnamara)

'Cause I doubt that you would even if you could change

(lexethan+hannah (happy))

You think it makes you special, but it makes you strange

(hannah (the Horrors))

I doubt that you would even if you could change

(golden treasure)

The things that make you special are the things that make you strange

(roller rama kids)

I am the shadows cast aside by gallows, and you the red-hot sky

(willabella)

And if you're believers, then why would you grieve for the dead

Instead of a devil that you never prayed for?

(willa and wiggly)

You become immune to my toxic fumes

My dose-dependent presence in your life

It's all subjective, all due respect to the collective mind, but

(pokey pokey pokey)

Too weird to love, too scared to die (ay, ay, ay, ay), too alien to take you home

(inevitable)

Horrified at the sight of my reflection in your eyes, I don't belong there

(emma looking at paul)

Well, it's your conclusions that make mine delusions, so I make you sane

You can thank me later

(inevitable again, maybe a little dip....)

Well, I doubt that you would, even if you could change

(nerds)

You think it makes you special, but it makes you strange

(dead nerds)

I doubt that you would, even if you could change

(hollweane)

The things that make you special are the things that make you strange

(holloway alone)

Who'd want to belong to anyone? (Ay, ay, ay, ay) I mean, what do people even do?

So, if you love me, let me let you go, my love (ay, ay, ay, ay), so I can be no one

(holloweane (holloway reaching out a hand to duke?))

When Chuang-Tzu awoke, he sat up almost choking

Spat out a butterfly and said, "Five more minutes, please?

(the summoning)

You wouldn't believe the dream I just had

I mean, you were there, and you were there

And you, and you, and you were there"

(pete staring at ruth, richie, solomon, tessburger, mark) (based on silly little hc i am not immune)

'Cause I doubt that you would, even if you could change

(ted boasting)

The things that make you special are what make you strange

(homeless man)

I doubt that you would, even if you could change

(bill and alice)

The things that make you special are the same that make you

(watcher world fight)

I doubt that you would even if you could change

(droid23 happy (paulkins))

You think it makes you special, but it makes you strange

(droid23 murdering homeless ted)

I doubt that you would even if you could change

(wilbur going into portal)

The things that make you special are the same that make you strange

(wiley)

[absentlyabbie]

hello abbie my friend abbie i must say i have been loving watching the bastard son and the devil himself through gifs you reblog and now i must ask

waht is it about, would you recommend watching it in more than gifs on my dash, because gabriel is extremely pretty and i am vaguely tempted

HELLO <3 you have fallen into my trap, welcome!

the bastard son and the devil himself (netflix adjusted the title like last week for a lead of "half bad:" probably because it's a mouthful and also to make it more obvious it's based on the namesake book series) is about a boy whose father is the actual big bad wolf of the witch community, and because of this, that witch community makes his life a living hell from infancy and treats him like he's at every moment a wrong breath from being Just Like Daddy (and that since he's so obviously going to turn out that way, why not treat him as if he already has from his actual birth?)

which, by the way, is so much more yikes when you consider that growing up, nathan is probably one of like five black kids he ever meets. the racism is never addressed directly, but it is not a subtle presence.

you've got technically two witch communities: the "fairborns" and the "bloods." the ones who call themselves fairborns really give themselves away with that "we are inherently superior by birth" bullshit don't they? meanwhile the blood witches are more on the level of "literally all of us use blood rituals get over yourselves." both these communities are doing the magical secret conspiracy dance among the "fains", aka basic magicless humans.

nathan's father is a blood witch, his mother was a fairborn. he has an older half-sister who is more the monster than they ever tried to pretend he was destined to be (you'll see) and a grandmother who loved him fiercely and without shame. his gran raised him and his sister after her daughter dies of purported suicide shortly after nathan is born. you get the sense she's more of the average witch stock that, while still technically "fairborn", is much less enthused about the big dividing lines the fairborn council draws between the two communities.

the fairborns of the higher level of their society are sanctimonious, oppressive pricks and really a hairsbreadth from quiet-part-loud fascism, so brace for that. you learn more about blood witches as you go, so other than knowing the fairborns vilify them as all monsters and murderers with savage traditions of violence, starting with them as a question mark is best for the development of the story.

so, fairborn and blood witches alike gain their powers at age 17 by being given a small amount of blood from some member of their family. because Reasons, nathan eventually ends up on a wild fugitive quest to save himself when for other Reasons (such as his sister's bloodthirsty hatred of him) his 17th birthday approaches and there's no one who can/will give him his blood, and for blood witches, rumor is that goes much worse than simply not getting superpowers.

annalise: irreverent, clever, and discerning daughter of the fairborn council's most sanctimonious asshole. moves suddenly to nathan's small town and latches onto nathan immediately, who latches on just as hard to her. annalise doesn't much buy into the fairborn propaganda, but also doesn't realize how much of it she's unknowingly internalized nevertheless. ends up with a power that gives her extra reason to go fugitiving with nathan (after she helps rescue his ass.) she's snarky and cute and loyal and has big feral stubborn energy.

gabriel: so french, so queer, so sarcastic. (younger than he looks.) enters the story seeming like he might be a minor side character, or perhaps a b-level antagonist, or a short-arc companion. he pretty much says "fuck that" and will worm his way right into your heart and then act extremely aggrieved to be there. blood witch, alchemist, errand boy for a mysterious and ominous blood witch who is helping nathan for dubious and unknown reasons. gabriel is a puzzlebox that opens slowly and is at every turn more than he appeared the moment before.

annalise and nathan latch onto gabriel like burs, and he is initially extremely annoyed by this, but they grow on him. like a very persistent bread mold. gabriel and annalise have a particularly sparring sort of dynamic, but grow a clear affection for each other nonetheless. you've no doubt already absorbed from my reblog sprees that nathan is a beautiful bi disaster and they both hinge on him magnificently. but, signs abound that this developing ot3 may be more triad than v.

this show is violent and sometimes gory, it simmers in you a constant outrage and bitterness at the injustice nathan in particular faces constantly, it is heavily populated by characters who range from "eyes-wide-open willing monster" to "morally gray, complicated, fucked up, but entertaining and maybe even redeemable."

and yet, the show doesn't try to make you as the viewer decide who is absolutely right and who is absolutely wrong, who is good vs who is evil. instead it sits you next to our heroes as they explore and confront the ever shifting balance of good/evil, light/dark in every person, how nothing is ever as simple as "good guys v bad guys", but that even in a world so varyingly shadowed, there are objective wrongs that must be recognized and fought against.

all of this could make this show seem potentially over-heavy and tedious with misery, exhaustingly bitter and cynical, but on the contrary, entirely because of the core three characters, the beating heart of the show is love. love and connection and hope. acceptance and the destruction of bigotry through exposure to knowledge, but also the choice that has to be actively made to do that. it is, in fact, about fighting for one another and fighting for yourself, and even more about leaning on and supporting one another. because a world without these truly is one without hope or warmth, and the core trio are too full of those things to ever let it be lost.

tl;dr yes i highly recommend watching the show itself and not just the gifsets, as truly the gifsets only scrape the very upper surface of the depths of this show and its world building, characters, and examination of dynamics of power and axes of oppression.

[blue-dress-on-a-boat]

Watching the owl house

Spoilers idk how to do a cut on mobile

YO WHAT THE FUCK

This BETTER be another dream fake out

I’m crying

The collector trying to fix her

Babies first experience with mortality

She turned into light glyphs I’m sobbing

Everyone knows what happened

BEAST MODE

“She’s really gone”

Yeah kiddo she’s in the ink realm now

HOOTY

ok I need those pj pants

He’s just watchin tv like the rest of us

Wait but why is hooty his eye

- is hooty literally his eye in the sky

FINALLY SOMEONE TELLS LUZ SHES BEING STUPID

BELOS IS TAKING OVER HIM

SHES GETTING ALL THE TITAN MAGIC WHAT

I’m sobbing why didn’t this get a longer run

HEYO BIG SKELLY

Someone save the puppets

- wait wait what is the magic run out?

If I know my daughter she wont let dying stop her

NO NOT MY LITTLE KITTY MEOWMEOW

I thought he was talking about his TEARS

- what IS THIS STUFF

God damnit this snake is so stupid I still hate it so much

Why???? She look like that. Tiktok is going to have a feild day with this cosplay material

EDA TEACHING LUZ HOW TO DO MAGIC CIRCLES WOTH THE SAME DIALOUGLE

I’ve rewatched those 12 times

THE ANIMATION THE LIQUID ANIMATION

Also this remix slaps

THE FLOWERS

The Titan MAGIC WEH

THE LIGHT GLYPH

No not skelly crumbling

EVERYONE USING GLYPHS TO SAVE THE DAY

- Camilla just drawing them out like a badass

Did that motherFUCKER JUST BARK

Oh EW I did not expect the boiling isles to literally look that gorey

Yay fun magic adventure to go stab kings dads heart to dead

NOT RAINE IF THEY DONT MAKE IT IM GOING TO KILL MYSELF

- they remind me too much of my partner if they croak I’m I’m going to loose it

—HEY LET THEM KISS THE FUCK

Why does Luz’s hat have a little light bubble on it

YES BITCH RIP HIM TO SHREDS

wait don’t fucjing monologue babe just kill him

To SHREDS YOU SAY

That was a good fucking frame

Adopt the baby plz you guys can each get one hit on him but after that everyone be friends like in the mark comics

WHERES LUZ ok there she is

FUCK OFF PHILLYBOY

KiLL HIM

Yes the rain

Oh ew what

He is NOT human

HEY FUCK YEAH STOP HIM TO DEATH

-is she not human anymore

WHAT THE FUCK

Is that what he wanted to say to him

She is… not going to be able to go back to the human realm and be normal

Also was like, the boiling isle only one fucjing wacko island that the rest of the demon realm like didn’t touch bc belos? Like the post apocalyptic America of this universe

YES LET THE GAY DADS KISS

darius father of the year award

SYNTH HELL YEAH I’m going to listen to that on repeat for years

Who the FUCK was that third guy

STEVE??? CANON STEVE WHAT DID THEY JUST TAKE THE DESIGN THAT COMIC GUY HAD I DINT THINK WEVE SEEN STEVE BEFORE???

Hey I’m so gay wtf eda making raine a NEST

When ur aunt has a kid and ur cousin is the most annoying and dangerous 9 year old on the planet

OH 2 GAY KISSES DANA REALLY SAID YOU CANT CANCEL THE SHOW AGAIN CAN YOU

NOT EDA BEING NERVOUS TO MEET CAMILA

HOOTSIFER

No Titan magic?? I’m crying

-can she do magic now? From her staff I guess?

IS SHE MOVING

GRADUATION?? WhiTH WHOMST

Oh wait this is going to be a Vee fake out

Oh worm that IS vee??

DANA TERRECE GIVING THE WRITING SCHOLARSHIO AWARD

Wait did they go back to the human realm? Why is hooty interacting with a person

NEW HAIRCUT ALERT AMITY SLAYING DAILY

Mmmmm is that a twilight baseball reference or am I just brain dead

STRINGBEANS CORNER

UNIVERSITY OF WILD MAGIC FINALLY THE FAKE OUT WE WERE WAITING FOR

ALSO GROWN UP LUZ IS SO NB VIBES FRFR

Is that AMITYS NECKLACE

I want that snake shirt so bad

TATTOO LUZ HAS A TATTOO

Also two ear piercings slay

“It’ll be nice to finally see everyone again” so DID she go to regular or magic highschool tell us

LUZ YOU SAW THEM LAST WEEK I NEED TO STOP PAUSING AND WATCH THE SHOW

VEE IS SO FUCKING CUTE IM CRYING

I’m making those tshirts

SOLD TO THE NOCEDAS WHAT IS THAT A NEW PORTAL THE COLLECTOR CREATED

- imagine hearing that everytime you come in

THE RECEEATION OF THE INTRO

The animation

I’m sobbing

HEY YOU FUCKKNG COWARDS WHY CAN YOU NO CONSISTENTLY DRAW FAT PEOPle I saw Willow flying and went fuck yeah but then she walks around and they skinny washed her again

Hunter palisman carver adorable

Ok I appreciate the animation but was it important to make that huntlow scene so beautiful and yet STILL NO KISS

AW ALL THE MATCHUNG TATTOS ARE FLAPJACK

Liliths plans I’m screaming “disco maybe”

AMITY SMASH SMASH SMASH

That’s what I wanna look like

HARPY LILITH THE FUCK

ok that girl playing the harp I know we know her name but smash smash love the new hair

Professor dog boy for life

BUMO HAS A HOOTY PATCH ON HIS GARDENING GEAR

We’re going to see a high uptake in patch based fashion this year thanks Dana

VINEY HEALING MADE ME CRY AGAIN

dARIUS AND AMITYS DAD SITTING IN A TREE

Also raine hello smashsmashsmashsmash

SHORT HAIR GIRL TWIN where’s the brother

NOT THE BABY WHALE

Oh there he is and he looks no different but I’m glad he’s vibing

DEMON REALM HUMAN REALM EXCHANGE PROGRAM WHEN IM MAKING TSHIRTS

GUS’S HAIR IM SCREAMING

HEADMASTER EDA SMASHSMASH A HUNDRRED TIMES SHE HAS A FUCKING HOOK

Wait wait the basilisks I’m crying

TEEN KING HES SO SCRUFFY

THE GATE IS THE OWL HOUSE I CALLED IT

KING-CENEAÑERA IM SOBBING

The bat babies hanging upside down got me

They sounded ALOT less haunted than our birthdays FUCKING MOOD BUDDY

PAINYATA WILL HE NEVER KNOW PEACE

Ok that dress goes HARD

Spider cake Steve has my heart

Noooo kings glyphs have horns I’m crying

THE BYE AND EVERYONE WAVING I AM UNWELL

Ok gtg cry before rehearsal I’ll see you all in therapy

[officialspec]

every time a really good su episode comes out im always jus like. oh fuck i gotta do gemstuck again

[simp-cityxx]

It’s Showtime~

A Toji Fushiguro x Fem! Reader fic (NSFW)

Summary: Your lowkey malewife Fushiguro comes to pick you up from work, but you have some ulterior plans for the night…

Warnings: Praise, Degradation, Lots of dirty talk, spanking, breeding, possessiveness; other general smutty stuff (read at your own risk)

A/N: so yea, Nanami and Toji exist simultaneously in this story which doesn’t make sense (but that’s hawt so) but yk what else doesn’t make sense? THE WORD MALEWIFE AND TOJI BEING REMOTELY CLOSE TO ONE ANOTHER! But yeh enjoy

—

“Late again, huh.”

As you walked under the dim streetlight, Toji opened up your passenger door before crossing his arms with a blank stare on his face.

“Sorry. Nanami just needed someone to stay back and help file a few-“

He slithers a hand on your waist as the other tilts your chin. “Yeah princess, whatever.” Although his approach is far from polite, you’re far too focused on his touches to come up with a witty response. The way his words, gazes, and touches were coated with gracefulness but tinged with urgency drove you wild. It was far from erratic but not essentially delicate…this must’ve been the delicious taste of experience, and you were set for sails just thinking about it.

“What am I going to do with you…” he chuckles, pulling you into a kiss; one that feels almost too intimate. You grip onto his tight shirt with his toned muscles enclosed, leaving you practically gasping for air.

The kiss finally calms down and you hop in the front seat of Toji’s car. It always puzzled you how the man was able to afford such a lavish car on his own, Given the fact that he often took on the role of your “househusband”. You focused your attention as Fushiguro unexpectedly brushed a lose piece of hair out of your face. Even such a simple gesture had your thighs squeezing together, tensing up as the engine started.

“So why does that blondie keep working you so late anyways?”, He sits his hand on his chin.

“I think it’s simply the fact that im the only one who fully understands Mr.Nanami’s file systems.”

He chuckles, “Bullshit. Your boss totally has the hots for ya.” Trying to conceal his feelings on the matter, he opts to keeping his blank stare on the road.

You rolls your eyes, “You know it’s not like that.”

“Well if even if it was, you know I’m still your man,” he shoots you a toothy smile, god he was so hot when he smiled…

You giggle, rolling your eyes.

“You are so damn corny.”

The rest of the ride is quiet, as you’re caught up in your own head. This relationship with the sorcerer killer had been such a whirlwind, even after about three months. His arrogant and flirtatious demeanor never gave any indication that he would want to ‘slow down’, but somehow you were able to mellow him out. In some ways at least.

Before you knew it Toji was opening the passenger door.

“Baby,…..y/n”, He tapped your shoulder as you had kinda zoned out.

“Oh yeah sorry”, you stood up, only to immediately get tossed over the mans broad shoulder, sneakily hoisting you up with a hand on your ass.

“IM NOT YOUR FUCKIN WORM PUT ME DOWN!”

“Huh?”

Without batting an eye, he puts you down as soon as the front door opens.

……..

Walking into the bedroom, you decide to throw on something a little more…causal. (Something you really know will get him going). You grab one of Fushiguro’s oversized collared shirts, leaving it open to expose the skimpy new lingerie you had just bought. Although not something you felt totally comfortable in, one of your office friends insisted you buy it for a night just like this.

You sluggishly walk into the kitchen where dinner is prepared, stretching your spine with a heavy yawn, before glaring up at Toji’s ample chest, merely covered by a black apron.

The raven haired man looks towards you, almost as if he hasn’t noticed your change in attire. You sit down for your meal, a little disappointed at the lack of reaction from your man. You finish up dinner and sluggishly stumble to the living room. Toji is sitting with eyes unenthusiastically glued to the tv. As you make your way over to join him, you feel a tight grip placed on your hip, pulling you into a rather compromising position.

“I told you last time about wearing satin..”

The words crinkle in your ear, causing your spine to tingle. (He has a thing for satin, lordt knows why)

The muscular man begins to spank you, causing an unexpected moan to escape.

“Shhhh.” A deep sinister grin is painted on his face. “There’s no use in screaming anything but my name sweetie.” God, you hated the way his corniness turned you on.

He persisted, already pushing you to the brink as he increased the intensity through his large palm. occasionally he paused to admire his dirty work, placing the gentlest caresses on your stinging ass before causing you to whimper once again.

You were already panting when Toji positioned you in his arms bridal style. “Tired already dollface? But I haven’t had my way with you yet…”

Fuck. You clench your legs as the heat between your legs intensifies. The raven haired man picks up and shoots one of his grins, floppy hair covering his emerald eyes. You could just die right here.

Gently laying his prized possession on the bed, he positions himself in front of you as you undress him. He throws the apron to the side and wastes no time utterly demolishing the lacey lingere you had picked out for him.

“Toji! That was expensive!”

He merely shrugs it off. “Black card is on the desk babe. You don’t even need all this frilly shit to get me to fuck you.” You cross your arms and avert your gaze; pretending this isn’t the exact outcome you wanted.

“Pout all you want, but your body tells me everything I need to know princess.” As he whispers, He glides a finger over your drenched folds, causing you to release the most sickening moan to ever escape your lips.

“I never knew you were this much of a slut for me. We’ve barely even started…”

As much as you want to give a witty response, his electric fingers slip and stretch inside you, leaving you breathless. You burn all over as he leaves intense marks and kisses all over your skin.

“Stammering already?” He grabs your chin and leans in, pressed against your chest.

“How pathetic. Guess we’ll have to teach you a lesson in manners…” with that he growls, slinging your delicate legs over his broad shoulders. As he leaves kisses on your soft thighs, you shudder in ecstasy. He lets out a chuckle.

“You’re so cute when you tense up like that. Just relax; I’ll take care of it.”

Swiftly he begins unrelentingly devouring you. Kisses pepper your sopping cunt, accompanying the intoxicating hums he makes on your bud. Even with your screams and cries, he only lets up when you finally come.

“Good girl. Now can you do something for me?”

As you nod, he sits you down on the edge of the bed. He positions himself in front of you, giving you a clear look at his egregiously long and thick member. It’s a wonder the thing fit inside you.

“I’m just in need of a little warmup. Think you can handle it sweet heart?”

You nod, regaining your composure.

“Yes sir.”

With that, you take as much of his 13 inches as you can fit in your mouth, but as he hits the back of your throat you begin to choke. Noticing, he slides himself out.

“Don’t overextend yourself little whore. Just the tip is fine…”

After affirming his words, you use your methodical tongue to play with his cock, causing him to release little fucks and hisses from the back of his throat. The way you fit him so well always got him going.

You giggle, “who’s stammering now?”

Teasing him was a big mistase. He furrows his brow and pulls away from you leaving you hungry for more.

“Enough. Lay down skank.”

There was no saving you now. It was much too late. You just guaranteed you’d need to use one your sick days just to recuperate. He pins you down by the wrists and starts biting hard onto your chest, causing you to whimper.

“You thought you were real slick huh.”

“I was only-“

Before you can even finish your sentence, the space in between your legs is stuffed full. He pounds hard into your throbbing cunt, amused by your gasps for air, and leaning down occasionally to leave you kisses. He was just too good, from his dirty talk to the slightest of touch, he just knew every little way to turn you to mush. He grinned as he put a hand to your stomach, feeling his cock penetrate you to your highest capacity. He was so proud have pleasured you in such a way, falling in love with the ways you screamed his name, the way your clever ass could turn into this love drunk fool with no one but him. The love he made between your thighs was proof enough that you could be no one but his. Toji may have been a master of his craft, but the way you wrapped around him even left him begging for more.

As you bucked your hips into him, Toji positioned you on top of him.

“It’s time baby.”

He released more of his intoxicating sounds as you both found yourself on the brink of climax. You pleaded for him to stuff you full, so he did just that, speeding up by grabbing your hips before one final thrust, leaving your thighs shaking around his burning shaft. You were all his as you laid there, dazed by just how amazing the feeling it was.

“You did so well for me today honey. I’m glad you learned your lesson.”

He placed a kiss onto your forehead before getting up to draw you a bath.

—

Oh lordt have mercy </3

[raekahwritings]

BNHA Gods AU - Thanatos - Shindou Yo

GODS AU! - What kind of shitty god are you?

Pairing: Shindou You x Reader

Rating: Explicit, NSFW, Minors, DO NOT ENTER.

Warning: NSFW, Mentions of non-consent, slight blood/gore/murder,slight yandere.

Word Count: 2016

Authors Note: This was written in one night, I really wanted to make it in time for this collaboration despite everything going on right now. I hope you all can forgive me since this wasn’t proof read but hopefully you all can enjoy the Gods!AU Shindou!

GODS!AU Collaboration: Please check out the collab here from @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten​

The age of gods was long over. They no longer walked this earth. No one worshipped them; they became the words of fiction and stories.

Let the gods guide you.

Live your life well and the gods may reward you.

Do not turn away from the path of good, lest the gods punish you.

Where were the gods when you needed them? When your mother had dressed you up as a pretty doll, when you smiled and jumped in the excitement of a new dress, and when she had shown you to a portly older gentleman. He took you, none-too-gently, and placed a bag of coins into your mother’s palm. She had left brusquely, curtly, and took care not to look you in the eyes.

How long had it been since then? Your childhood had gone by in the mess of yelling, screams, and scullery work. When you were old enough? You now lay on the floor with your clothing strewn apart, dried tears on your face and a voice hoarse from screaming.

This was a life where no gods deigned to visit—this was a place of vileness, sordidness, and loathsome men. You were nothing more than a commodity to them—they had no qualms about leaving you on this dirty floor.

God, you had prayed so many times. Save me.

You’d been delivered to them, lent like broken toy until they called the brothel master to fetch you.

You had been defiled too many times to believe that any God would help you now.

Where were you? What had they consecrated this time? They had laughed and they had jeered while you had cringed at the blasphemy they spewed. They had taken their belts to mark you, left you bleeding, and then poured acridly old liquid, “—better hope this fucking holy water works.”

“They would laugh at this.” You blinked away the tears, blinked to see the dormant idolatry of Thanatos nearby. You scrabbled at the ground, trying to find a perch to lay your hands on so you could get up. You winced at seeing the dried blood and spilt fluids. If there was a moment for Thanatos to judge you, this would be now.  

But would he?

Gods had come and gone, with nary a care. You tried to stand, tried to ignore the mess they had made, and you glared at the idolatry. “You didn’t stop this.” You pointed to the empty room – “You’re supposed to be some merciless, hateful god of death.” You scoffed, knowing it was pathetic. Here you were, reaching a level of desperation to talk to some useless piece of stone and an empty room like it would answer you. But all the resentment, anger, and bitterness spewed out – here and now— you hissing, “You’re a fucking piece of shit god.”

And yet.

“If my life was enough of a price, would you come here and now? Or am I too dirty for someone like you? You want a precious little girl, an innocent naïve little sheep?” You furiously took the idol, glaring before slamming it as hard as you could to the floor. Take that, you fucker.

You watched the idol shatter into pieces, the useless stone rolling away. You should fear your own blasphemy and yet… satisfaction had you feeling smug.

“My, my, that doesn’t seem very nice.”

Holy fuck. You whipped around—the room was empty. When had someone come in? You nearly screamed at the mysterious voice, your arms reaching out to blindly shove at the culprit while you stumbled backwards.

A masculine hand caught your arm, tsking at you and he emerged from the shadows with a disappointed look. You nearly fell backwards but his iron clasp had you standing upright.

“Who are you?” Shock and fear colored your tone, the smugness was fleeting as you look to the door, a door that hadn’t budged since the scraggle of men had left earlier. How did he get in? You looked at him, swallowing nervously, your gaze flitting up and down to make out this stranger in the darkness.

“You called me and yet, you still ask me?” He stepped further into the firelight… You looked up at this dizzyingly tall man, you could make out the messy, dark locks framing his chiseled face. But more so, you found yourself staring into eyes the color of pure jade. He was far too handsome, his features bold and brooding, the stubble on his face giving him a heathenish look. He was broad and lean, the muscles of his arms and chest visible through his disheveled shirt.

Someone who made you stop breathing.

“No.” You breathed— “You’re lying.” You called no one, he was here to take you back to the brothel, you tried to wrench your hand pathetically away. He couldn’t fool you, no matter how handsome he was.

“Calm down.” He pulled you into his chest, you were the one falling forward as he stopped your mewling struggles. You heard those words countless times; it had always preceded the acrid smell of chloroform…

“I don’t want to go back.” You choked out, letting your wrists fall slack. “I don’t want this.”

His voice lilted up, questioning. “Go back where?” You could almost believe the sincerity in his voice, the confusion, the perplexity of the situation. But people loved playing with you, toying with you in these games— men liked playing with women as if it were a game of cat and mouse. You curled your fingers into your palms, once again trying to suppress any kindle of hope—because you inevitably always were sold back.

Meanwhile, Thanatos, the god you had summoned with your blood, piety, and holy water—looked heavenwards in frustration. “Girl, speak your name.” He commanded—you answered obediently.

How? You didn’t mean to answer him.

“I am Thanatos. Now speak plainly. I’ve heard your desperate cry for help, for vengeance.” He leaned back against the stone table, tugging you into his lap. “Now can we dispense with the formalities? I’d much rather you call me Shindou instead.” You found yourself caged in—your chest against his bare one as he gestured for you to look up. “You summoned  me. And while I normally ignore mortals…” He let his hand fall loosely to your back—you stiffened, squirming—as his calloused fingers brushed against the filth on your skin, the torn scraps of fabric that hid nothing from his gaze.

“I was personally interested in this offering of yours.” You stilled. There had been no one in the room with you to hear your vitriol words—but this was the temple of Thanatos. Could it be?  “Oh. You don’t believe me?” You looked doubtful. Well he couldn’t blame you. His lips curved, expecting this reaction. He waved a hand in the air, letting the firelights flicker to black and purple flames, letting it dance across the room hauntingly for you. You watched transfixed. “But parlor tricks? A dime a dozen.” He said dismissively. He tapped the table, a prompt for the shadows around you to contort menacingly and snaking up your legs.

You jumped more into his arms, away from the strangely prying and invasive shadows as it crawled disturbingly high up your body.

“Girl, they’re simply an extension of me.” You could hear the humor in his tone, see the shadows snake away as he chuckled at your close contact with him. “But I suppose I can be nice for a bit.” He let the darkness recede and the orange firelight to flicker back.

“Now that’s settled, may I discuss your price?” You… took a moment to blink, to really focus on him. Something about him, the closer you were, was making your senses hazy. He seemed to realize, crooning gently to you. “Oh baby, I know gods are supposed to be tempting to mortals and all that but where’s the little spitfire that threw a little tantrum at me? I quite enjoyed it.”

The haze dissipated a bit. You… had thrown down the idolatry, you had committed blasphemy in the actual face of a god. You wanted to die, the shame overwhelming you. Thanatos—no, Shindou simply laughed though—“Baby, don’t think of me as one of the pious assholes. I don’t need you to prostrate yourself to me and those hopeless,” he waved at the ostentatious ornaments adorning the room, “piece of shit, ugly crap of me. I’m a lot more handsome in person, don’t you think?” You couldn’t disagree.

This kind of man—God, you corrected yourself—exuded charisma, aura, sexuality that vibrated with your own being. Like you were made for him, your body melted against his light touch.

“Demon got your tongue? I can fix that.” Shindou cradled the side of your face, leaning in to press a kiss. You gasped, giving him an opportunity for his tongue invade your mouth—ravishing and giving you no air to breathe. He reached down to anchor your hips against his, drawing you more into his lap and letting his hardness press into your dampened, slickened ache between your thighs.

But you were dirty and filthy. You pushed him, and he let you, you knew his strength far outstripped yours. “I can’t.” You shook your head. “You must’ve seen what happened…” It wasn’t just one disgusting man, it was many who had left you sticky and ruined with their fluids on your unwilling body.

Even now.

“Seriously? Shindou sighed. He tutted at you like a child—which as a mortal, you must’ve been. “I came all this way out for your offering, for this delectable and luscious body and you dare to impugn me with your sense of shame?” He cocked his head. “Like I didn’t know? All those men…” He parted your legs, let the sticky fluid drip. “All those men, and they didn’t break your spirit. You come to me, fiery and burning with revenge, and I answered your call. What could be more attractive than this?” Albeit… Shindou did frown. “I don’t care for those worms to mark what’s mine. I guess they all have to die, wont they?”

Your eyes widened… your words caught. You wanted to protest—the mocking feeling of horror should’ve come at the thought of such senseless murder and death…. But you could only feel the sense of relish, of pure desire to see the blood of your captors. You bit your lips, futilely trying to hide your anticipation and eagerness.

“Ah, that’s my girl. I knew you and I would get along.” Shindou pulled down the rags of your dress,  watched your nubile body pull close to his and you shivered—his hardness grinded against you—a god like this wanted you. You could hardly believe it. You whimpered as he bit down your throat, bit at the junction of your shoulders while you bled. He licked the bloody trail down your ample breasts, swirling his hot tongue around the hardened peaks and making you arch in muted pleasure.

“Oh no, you can’t stay quiet.” He let the shadowy tendrils return, let it wrap around your throat and craning your neck backwards. His hands traced over your slickened breasts, pinching, pulling, vibrating as you screamed in pleasure and pain. “Sounds quite nice.” He mused, condescendingly. His hands eventually travelled to your taut thighs, teasing the inside of them, and drawing them further apart.  His fingers brushed against the dirty cum—he didn’t care for it but he supposed he’d just have to fuck you enough so you’d be dripping with his own cum—all the more reason to cleanse this lustful, vengeful darling of a human.

He had waited for someone like you. Other gods deigned to have their innocent little virgins on their sacrificial alter.

He wanted a tainted, corrupted human whose lust rivalled their desire for revenge—a human he could turn into his little fuck toy of a god, one who would stand by his side as he ruled over mayhem, murder, and death. Preferably, begging for his cock and drunk on cum – not a bad start, he mused. Not a bad start.

[wagner-fell]

I am still very new to this website and I don’t know how link a post but this fic is based on a post by @sandersgrey

(If someone reading this knows how to link a post please either explain it to me or link it in the comments because that post is *amazing*)

“Hmmm,” said Tessa, depositing Mina into Kit’s waiting arms and examining her buzzing phone critically. She shot a quizzical look in his direction.

Jem looked up from his novel. “What is ‘hmmm’, my love?”

Kit mimed vomiting but stopped dead in his tracks when she replied, “it’s Astrid’s mother. You remember her from parent teacher night, don’t you, my darling?” Kit swears they were being extra insufferable just to mess with him but he didn’t have the time to be annoyed when Astrid’s. Mom. Was. Calling. Tessa.

To understand why Kit was panicking as much as he was, you must know that Astrid’s mom was incredibly chill. She never got mad. The worst punishment she’d ever given her daughter was taking away her iPod for a week so she couldn’t listen to Mitski.

Was she calling about last night when Astrid, Mari and Kit threw eggs at the Shadowhunter’s that were giving Mari’s pack a hard time for no reason? No, that couldn’t be it. She’d given them the eggs.

Could the call be about the day before yesterday when Kit and Astrid got distracted doing homework and ended up snapping the coffee table clean in half while battling gladiator style with pool noodles? No, that wasn’t it. She’d just handed Astrid a twenty and told them to go to Kevin’s parents' shop and get a new one. Was she pissed because they ended up spending the money on ice cream instead? No, they ended up finding a table for free in the rubbing bin outside a fancy hotel.

Kit clutched his sister to his chest and prepared for the worst.

“Seo-yoon! What can I do for- Oh, hello Astrid!” Tessa paused briefly, presumably to listen to Astrid speak, and Kit sighed in relief.

“Kit is occupied at the moment but I can relay the message.” Another pause. “Oh don’t be frightened of me. I’m a tots rad mom. Your secret is safe with me.” Kit felt his face flush red as he heard his best friend’s laughter echo across the living room. “Okay! I’ll let him know. He has to get Mina to sleep before he can leave though. Lord knows he’s the only one who can these days.” Tessa chuckled at something Astrid said before wishing her good luck in her endeavour and ending the call.

She turned her attention back to Kit. “Astrid needs your help breaking into your teacher’s home to retrieve her cell phone.”

Kit blinked at her, dumbfounded. “You aren’t mad I’m going to go break the law?”

Because of course he was doing it. Astrid’s dad had bought it for her and he was extremely cautious about money. That was one of three things Kit knew about her dad. He was cheap, he lived in America and he loved the movie Fight Club.

Tessa ruffled Kit’s hair affectionately. “Please. I’ve raised two other Herondales. At least I know about this particular adventure beforehand.”

Mina began snoring softly and Kit handed her back to her mother. He grabbed his bag and started his journey to the door when Tessa added, “she also told me to say hi to a ‘daddy Kit’. Are you ‘daddy Kit?’”

‘Daddy Kit’ closed his eyes and wished for the sweet release of death.

“Why is Kit a daddy,” Jem asked, genuinely confused. “Aren’t I the daddy?”

Kit swung the door open so fast not even a speed rune could have aided him. But not before I heard Tessa reply, “Lily Chen certainly thinks so.”

Mrs. MacNamara clapped her hands together. “Why don’t we all go around and say a few things about ourselves?”

Kit buried his face into his hands. He’d been relieved when no other teacher had fulfilled the Disney channel stereotype of making every student introduce themselves to the new kid. But Mrs. MacNamara didn’t even seem to realize what she was doing.

All Kit’s fellow classmates groan. Expect one. Her hand shot up immediately. She was short, like smaller than Clary short. She wore a baggy pink shirt with the words ‘Queen Glimmer of Etheria’ sewed on with purple sequins and tight black jeans. Her colourful, choppy hair was in a low ponytail and she flew a few strands out of her eyes as her hand wiggled in the hair.

Mrs. MacNamara pointed at her. She stood up and smiled at Kit. “Hi. My name is Astrid. My hobbies include making my little cousin’s girl Barbies kiss, as it should be, and watching television shows where everyone is a terrible person so you can love all of them!”

“And what shows might that be?” asked Kit, already in the process of pulling out his phone and opening the Notes app.

“Grey’s Anatomy, Glee, Grey’s Anatomy again because it’s seventeen seasons as of right now. And to be fair it practically became a different show when they killed off Mark Sloan.”

“That’s enough, Miss Yang,” said Mrs. MacNamara. Astrid sat down and winked at Kit. Then she took out her phone and airdropped him a complete list of all her favorite shows, along with her number.

After Blessica’s pre-birthday birthday party, they went to Cirenworth and stayed up till four A.M. binging them.

They met outside a queer dry bar called Aries Not Welcome, the unspoken gathering place of the Merry Hoes. It was run by a poly lesbian couple in their mid-thirties. Quinn, Sydney and Aliyah may not have served alcohol but at least they were open 24/7.

“Did you bring the shit?”

Kit gave her a look. “The shit? How conclusive.”

“Shut up. You know, the shadowhunter thing.”

“The shadowhunter thing?”

“The, the, the glow stick that you draw with.”

“The glow stick that I draw wi-“ Kit closed his eyes briefly. “Do you mean a stele?”

Astrid snapped her fingers. “That’s it!” Kit shook his head in exasperation, smiling fondly. “I borrowed a torch from Quinn, let’s move.”

“Should I be worried that you know where Mr. Smith lives?” questioned Kit as he followed Astrid’s lead through the park.

“Should I be worried that your mom was fine with us breaking and entering?” she shot back playfully. Kit pushed Astrid and she fell off the path, laughing all the way.

“You called me ‘daddy’ to my mom’s face.”

She just laughed harder, slinging her arm around Kit’s shoulder. “It was over the phone, Christopher. And as I should.”

“Pffffttt. Why did you get your phone taken anyway?” She put her hands into her jumper pocket and looked at the ground. “Astrid.” She remained silent. “Astrid?”

She mumbled something under her breath. “What?” asked Kit.

“I WAS READING NINEJ FANFICTION!” she shouted.

Kit gasped. “I thought you were a die hard Kanej shipper,” he whispered.

“I’m a multishipper, okay?!” she replied, equally quiet.

“Does Blessica know?”

She shook her head. “And she will never find out.”

Kit saw the opportunity and he seized it. “She’ll never find out as long as you never call me daddy in front of either of my parents.”

She removed her arm from his shoulder and guided them out of the park, in the direction of the many apartments that lined this side of town. “I hate you.”

“Well, so does Mari. You're not special, Ast.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know Mari doesn’t actually hate you, right?! They’re just still in the enemy phase of your enemies-to-lovers romance. She only dislikes you because they feel something for you but they don’t know what so she interrupts it as loathing. In reality, her inner soul knows you’re hot and shmexie.”

Kit didn’t know how to process this so he just nodded and follow Astrid in silence to Mr. Smith’s house. (Plus, he was kinda glad that, according to his best friend, he had a little more time for Mari to ‘discover their true feelings’. If Kit screwed this up, he was out of countries to run off to.)

“Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What,” asked Kit, turning around to face Astrid and closing the drawer he was rifling through. “Did you find your phone?”

“Yeah. But I also found Blessica’s. She was Snapping Kevin. Platonic my ass. But he took the fucking trans flag out of her phone!”

Kit snatched Blessica’s phone out of her hand to examine it for herself. She was telling the truth. Where the glitter pride flag usually rested was just a clear purple case. Kit couldn’t believe his eyes.

“It’s one thing to misgender her every day.” Blessica had forced all four of the other Merry Hoes to sign a contract saying they wouldn’t do anything to harm him because of it. “But this is the last straw. You know what we have to do.” Oops.

“Yeah, but we don’t have any spray paint.”

Kit eyed Mr. Smith’s pink sofa, blue bar stool covers and white picture frames. “I think I have something better in mind.”

It would have been easier for both parties to just zip off the sofa cushions and tape them to the wall but by ripping them off in strips, they ensured he would have to buy new ones. And judging by the car he drove and the fiji water in his fridge, Mr. Smith could definitely afford it.

That reminded him, “I’ll finish up with this. Go put all his fiji water into my bag.” Astrid saluted him and ran off. “Wait.” She stopped and looked at him. “Steal all the remotes you can find.”

“How is he not awake?,” asked Astrid as they ripped the fabric of his seating from the stool.

He shrugged. “Don’t question it.” He shoved the bundle of cloth into her arms. “Glue this above the pink. I’ll handle the frames.”

“Say the magic word,” she sang.

“Please?”

“No. Lesbian. Come on, I thought you knew me better than that.”

Kit laughed quietly. “Can you lesbian glue this above the pink?”

She grinned at Kit. “It would be my pleasure.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hello! Sorry I haven’t written anything in so long. School just restarted and it has been…a lot.

@adoravel-fenomeno @thechangeling @the-blackdale @the-wckd-powers @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @im-not-ruined-im-ruination @ithurielkeepsgettingkidnapped @noah-herondale-lightwood @arangiajoan @shelvesofgold @maxboythedog @book-dragon-not-worm @hardlymatters

Very sorry if I forgot anyone. Lmk if you want to be addEd/removEd from the tag list.

[bogboye]

this is it lads. the last #Noah reviews movies but it's actually buzzfeed unsolved. it is an honor and I love all y'all.

THEY'RE BACK IN THE SALLIE HOUSE

2 DEMONIC INVESTOGATIONS WE ARE SO WELL FED BESTIES

shksbwksidnwbok they way Shane read out everything in such a deadpan voice

Shane's bargain bin Tony Stark glasses returned!!!!!

" 'And now I'm back', say it with confidence!" "I'm back!" " YEAS!"

"I've done a lot of- I LAID DOWN ON A PENTAGRAM AND SCREAMED AT THE DEVIL!"

Are we getting flashed in the last episode place your bets babes

Ryan's confidence turning almost immediately into mania... we love to see it

"Hah, we must have a ghost." That's what she said

He doesn't want to sound too eager to answer the phone...

The pets akehwbwiwjsbs lads it's the GANG

JSKABJ the way he smacked the Teddy over and Sallie got mad lmao

"More whiskey." AND "Spaghetti" AND "Apple tater" WE SHALL DINE LIKE KINGS

Sallie really has it with that teddy huh

THAT CLEAR ASS "SALLIE"

Bro girly is at it

"I swear to God I heard those little balls" proceeds to dance

THE FUCKING MOBILE they're bringing in all the clichés I LOVE IT

Okay now I wanna see the video of the claw marks there's never evidence for those

RYAN DANCING LIKE A FUCKING CLOWN AND SHANE THREATENING TO EVICT A LITERAL DEMON IF SHE DOESN'T SCARE THE SHIT OUT OF RYAN

"so be it" girlboss

"We're taking a ghost home with us!" Please get her from a shelter boys

"She's a demon, throw some water on her" The quotes this episode are *chefs kiss*

THEY'RE REFERENCING THEIR OWN EPISODE I LOVE THEM

RYAN LOSING HIS FUCKING SJIT AND ASKING WHERES MY JOSBDIWNA yeah I'm normal about this yeah I can be trusted with media <3

the nostalgia is unreal

GHOST WORMS GHOST WORMS GHOST WORMS

That "back at [unintelligible] sounded a lot like "back at Sallie house fight me on that

THAT DRAWING

SHE GOT A FART AND A GLASS OF PISS A PIG NOSE AND AN EYEPATCH I'M HYSTERICAL

WHY ARE THEY NOT TALKING ABOUT THAT CREEPY ASS "SALLIE"

*chanting* pentagrampentagrampentagramsheputapentagramonthefloorshesallowedtodothatthisisamerica!

I beg you please lay down on the pentagram again

Oh shit lads we in it now

"Aww my old demon hole!" He did not have to say it like that

"I'm not going down there" "Character development you should"

RYAN IS LAYING DOWN ON THE PENTAGRAM THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LSHAOANSJSOAAKAI

"suck it easy- OH I DIDNT MEAN THAT"

THE LIGHT TURNED ON IT'S TRUE IT'S CANON THEY ARE THE BEST GHOSTHUNTERS IN THE ENTIRE WORLD AND IT TURNED OFF AGAIN THIS IS NOT A DRILL

"It would be pretty sweet if I shat myself in the series finally" no it really wouldn't stop

What's with Shane and creepy dolls

Is that a promise Ryan? Is it? I wanna see this man so unhinged

Now I wanna see Shane write a motivational speech he's so good at insulting spirits now I wanna see him- oh wait

you can now picture me in a corner sobbing

"Turn on that flashlight again. Please don't." I'm getting mixed feelings here budy

YO WHY WAS THAT LIGHT FLICKERING

great now he's laughing aga- he indeed is a crazy man at the Pickmans bedroom

DON'T TELL ME THE SPIRIT BOX DIDN'T SAY "BITCH" IMMEDIATELY AFTER IT SAID "GO"

"How'd it go?" "I ended it." "You ended it? You told her who's boss?" enemies to friends to lovers to enemies again

WHAT IS IT WITH THE DOLLS HE LOOKS SO CONTENT WITH THOSE DOLLS WHAT IN HELLS NAME

Shane slept through the night

Ryan did not sleep at all

Poor little meow meow :((

THE OUTRO MUSIC DON'T DO THIS TO ME

HE DESTROYED THE SPIRIT BOX HE SAID "DON'T FORGET THE SPIRIT BOX" AND HE DIDN'T

Cool they're doing a throwback cool cool I am not crying SHUT THE FUCK UP

"I know one thing to be true: you believed in us" I DID I DO I DO OH MY FUCKING GOD I DO

THE WHOLE CREW I AM SOBBING

SOBBING YOU HEAR ME

Hey guys, we did it. We really did it. This show has been helping me through a lot of tough times and always cheered me up, even when I thought there was nothing to cheer up left. I love this show, Ryan and Shane and this entire community with my whole heart and (without trying to sound like a copycat) I wanted to say thank you for those amazing years and memories. So, thank you for the journey, for the laughs and smiles and the tears (I know this is cheesy but I am committed so fuck you) and scares and memories. Thank you so much.

Don't miss the documentary on 11/24, until then, see y'all.

[dear-evanrosier]

Favorite Nightmare

masterlist

TW: Descriptions of gore and blood, suicidal thoughts/mentions

Sirius sniggered as Rosier shrieked and ran down the hallway, away from the large spider. Remus and Peter were doubled over in laughter as James was torn between laughing and also backing away from the spider. 

The clicking of shoes came, making sharp noises against the stone. “Hello?” 

A voice called into the dark and Sirius straightened, his signature smirk playing across his lips. “Looks like my dear baby brother has stumbled upon us. Let’s see what he’s scared of. Probably going to be Mummy saying she’s disappointed in him.” He scoffed and Remus put a hand on his shoulder. “Love, maybe we shouldn’t-” 

“No, I want to see what he’s so terrified of. Can’t be Mother if he decided to stay in that horrid place.”

Remus sighed and directed his attention to where Sirius was looking, waiting for the younger Black to come through the doorway. He did, only a moment later. 

He was pale, paler than he usually was. Dark circles lined under his eyes, making the piercing silver color appear brighter. He wasn’t dressed in school robes, as he should be, but instead the under part of it. Black dress slacks, a white button-up tucked in. His school tie hung undone around his neck, and his hair was mussed as if someone had run their hands through it. A mark or two adorned his neck, only visible because the first two buttons of his shirt were undone.  He looked sick, if not thoroughly sleep-deprived. 

“Sirius, he doesn’t look right.” James cautioned, but Sirius only shrugged, whispering back. “His own fault, he could have come with me.” 

James sighed and watched as Regulus came closer, looking around the floor and walls, somehow missing the boggart that was changing at his feet. 

“What the fuck is he on about, not a single fucking spider in sight and he just had to fucking interrupt-” Regulus mumbled under his breath, and he stopped short as he spotted the woman laying on the floor, his wand clattering to the floor.

Lily Evans laid on her back, one arm bent behind her head and the other across her stomach. Her dark hair spread around her head like a halo of too light blood. Blood leaked out of her mouth in a thin line, pooling slightly on her chin. Regulus choked on his words at the sight

James furrowed his eyebrows, wondering why in the fuck Lily’s death would be Regulus’s worst fear.  Until a voice cut across the spluttering noises he made. 

“I’m so proud of you, Regulus. You did so well. The Dark Lord is proud of your service.” The clear, cold voice of Walburga Black came through the air, paired with the horrid woman herself. 

She came up behind Regulus, not touching him, but James could still see the fear in his eyes at the voice alone.

“Mother I- I don’t-” 

“Now, now, Regulus. Be proud of yourself. You’re helping rid our world of filthy mudbloods and impure blood. Such a wonderful thing to do isn’t it.” She smiled that terrible smile, which could make anyone rather anything than be on the reconvening end of it. Regulus visibly flinched at the use of the slur, which Sirius seemed to hyper-focus on. 

“Remus, what’s happening?” He whispered, who merely shrugged and stood transfixed as he watched the scene. 

“It’s not, it’s really not. It’s fucking terrible.” 

His mother’s smile vanished for a split second before returning, though crueler. “We’ve had this conversation, Regulus.” 

“I wasn’t aware using Crucio was a conversation, Mother.” 

Sirius gasped softly. He didn’t know what the fuck was happening, and was completely bewildered by it.

“Is he...standing up to a boggart?” Peter asked, a little confused, and Remus nodded. 

“You’re becoming Sirius.” 

“I am nothing like Sirius.” 

The mention of his name seemed to do something. Sirius’s body appeared next to Lily’s. His hair matted together, a large cut across his forehead trickling blood. His arms bent above his head, clasped together and bound. Regulus let out a sob and dropped to his knees, face covered by his hands. 

“Don’t be ashamed, Regulus, dear. They had it coming, they all did.” Walburga said, and James heard the gasp coming from his own lips. 

He laid there, no visible sign of harm done to him, though his glasses were shattered. One hand lay clutched in a fist over his heart, the other stiff at his side. Remus was in such an odd angle it looked painful, one arm bent under his back almost touching his leg and his head turned almost fully backward. Three large lines sliced his chest, bleeding profusely. Peter laid spread eagle on his back, mouth hanging open. 

“Pettigrew, a blood traitor. Lupin, a werewolf. Potter-” 

“Don’t you say his name.” 

Walburga laughed, cruel and icy, like a whip cutting through the air. 

“He doesn’t love you, Regulus! How could he? You’re worth nothing! At least Sirius had nerve, but you’re a spineless coward-” 

“Riddikuls!” 

Regulus hadn’t grabbed his wand, just whipped around at Walburga so quick James thought he would have whiplash. She turned into a worm, trying to move around despite her small size. Regulus quickly stood up, walking over to it. He let out a harsh laugh, one that James was surprised came from him. “Ah, what you truly are, Mother. A fucking worm, pathetic.” 

He stomped on it, and while James wasn’t sure it would actually take care of the boggart, seemed to give Regulus some sort of satisfaction.

 He slumped against the wall opposite of the alcove they decided to hide in, and sunk to the floor. His hands reached back up to his face, and a muffled sob came from behind them. And they kept coming. And they didn’t stop. Sirius looked like he was about to step out of their hiding spot until another boy, James recognized him as a Ravenclaw sixth year, Jacob something,  came down the hallway, wand drawn as well. 

He spotted Regulus and put it away, crouching close to him but not touching.

“Arc? Can I touch you?” 

Regulus nodded and Jacob reached out, pealing his hands away from his face and kissing him. Regulus kissed back, only briefly, before pulling away and leaning to look up at the ceiling. Jacob sat next to him, taking his hand and drawing little shapes into his palm. “What happened?” 

“Boggart.” 

The word was hard to understand, coming out rushed and thick. but Jacob did perfectly. He nodded and took his free hand to Regulus’s hair, playing with it softly. It seemed to calm Regulus down. Only slightly. “Sirius and James?” 

Regulus nodded.

“Ah.” 

“And Evans. And Lupin. And Pettigrew. And her.” 

Jacob nodded again. 

“You really shouldn’t be with me, Jay. I have nothing to offer you. I’m literally in love with someone else.” 

Jacob laughed, “And you know I am too.” 

Regulus turned to look at him, the corner of his lips upturned. “If you’re still waiting on my brother, he very much worships Lupin, so it’s a lost cause.” 

Jacob shrugged. “A boy can dream.” 

Regulus huffed, which could be mistaken for a laugh, and turned to look at the floor. 

“And I’m with you because you’re fun, and you’re not as much of a monster you or your brother makes you out to be.”

“That implies I am some sort of a monster.” 

Jacob whacked his arm lightly, though he was smiling. “You know what I mean!” 

Regulus nodded. 

“If Sirius knew half the shit you did to protect him, he’d think twice before calling you a coward.” 

Regulus shrugged.

“Plus, you’d probably try and throw yourself off the Astronomy tower again if I wasn’t here.” 

“Higher chance than just probably.”

Jacob looked at him, frowning. “Arc, what-”

“Nothing. Come on, Evan will be wondering if I killed the spider.” 

They both stood up, and Regulus grabbed his wand, dropping Jacob’s hand as they walked away.

[ficklefics]

Burden To Keep - Zemo x Reader ~ Chapter One: Saviour

Five years ago you were kidnapped by a mysterious group lead by a man only known as Critical. Five years of experiments. Five years of torture. And then in a blink of an eye, you're free. Three men, your saviours, asking you one question: where is the serum? But it could never be that easy. You join them as politics and terrorism throw you across the world, the hunters and the hunted. And through it all, there's him.

(starts towards the end of ep. 3, between Madripoor and Riga. will deviate from canon to an extent, but will likely follow the plot of the show loosely. planning for this to be a short series!)

SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

The unlikely trio of allies made their way through the compound, dead-set on their purpose. Zemo had informed Bucky and Sam about a supply of super-soldier serum, purchased from the Power Broker six months ago, being kept in this facility. They were on their way to Riga when the information came through, and a quick pit-stop wasn’t an issue if it meant possibly getting evidence that could help them.

For being owned by a client of the Power Broker, the place was poorly defended. Sam came in by the air and drew their fire long enough for Bucky and Zemo to get past the outer wall. Reuniting in the courtyard, they took out the remaining guards and shut down the emergency siren.

Now they followed the path their intel had provided through the strangely unprotected building. They came across a few men with tactical gear and weaponry but dispatched them with ease. Posts seemed abandoned as they got closer to what was marked as a storeroom on their map.

“A lot of security for a storeroom,” Sam had commented when Red Wing brought back the scans. “That’s where it will be,” Zemo assured.

A long corridor marked the final stretch. The security cameras lining it were all thankfully deactivated as Zemo lead the way.

Rounding the final corner there was a lone guard in front of a solid door. Seemingly distracted by his radio, he didn’t notice anything wrong until Bucky’s metal arm was throwing him against the wall, knocking him out cold immediately.

On closer inspection, there was a slat at waist height in the door, and a glass window layered with metal and covered from the inside. With a wrench, Bucky broke the handle, forcing his way into the room.

What they found was not a store. There were no shelves or crates. No serum.

What they did find was a makeshift bedroom. In the corner stood a woman, a bloody shard of glass held in their direction.

*

The tray of food sliding into the delivery box set into the wall woke you from sleep that morning. The breakfast was the same as it had been every day for the past five years: two slices of buttered toast, a glass of orange juice, and a dish of assorted pills. You downed those first, barely feeling them pass through your throat as the orange juice followed. The toast disappeared quickly – they would get pissed if the tray wasn’t back within ten minutes.

“Another day in paradise.” You sighed to yourself, resting back onto the bed.

A few hours later, the sound of movement outside drew your attention. Drawing the window cover up slightly, you peered out at the guards talking in hushed German. Avengers … fucked … serum … Over your time here you had managed to pick up a surprising amount of the language. One guard left, leaving the other to stand guard at the door to your room.

The Avengers. You may not have followed them closely, but it was impossible to live in the West and not know who the superheroes were. But five years after they had failed, five years after half the world turned to dust, you had no idea what to expect. It’s better than this. That much was true. If they really were Avengers, maybe they were here to rescue you.

You paced your room, unable to hear anything else other than the occasional crackle of the guard's radio. Not knowing what was happening was like having a worm under your skin. Periodically you would check the window, hoping to see something, anything other than the guard.

That didn’t take long. You were peering out just as the group rounded the corner. Suddenly, panic filled you. These men weren’t Avengers. At least not the ones you knew. And if they weren’t Avengers…

You hurried back, almost stumbling on your feet, and grabbed the water glass from the desk just to smash it against the wall. The biggest shard sliced into your skin but you barely felt the pain. Backed into a corner, terrified, you listened as they knocked out the guard and broke the handle.

This was it.

The first man into the room was tall, with dark hair. What was most notable about him though, was the arm made of black and gold metal. He stopped at the sight of you, clearly confused. Behind him stood a slightly shorter man wearing goggles and some kind of armour. They both seemed familiar somehow, but you couldn’t put a name to the faces.

“What the hell is this?” The first man muttered as the other lifted his goggles, revealing warm eyes that narrowed at you. A quiet cough sounded behind them and they moved further into the room to let a third man step in behind them. He was shorter again, but only a little. He narrowed his eyes at you.

“Ah.”

“Who are you?” You brandished the makeshift weapon. You didn’t know these men. You didn’t know if you’d be able to take all three of them. But you weren’t going down without a fight. “Why are you here?”

“Sam Wilson.” The second man stretched out a hand, seemingly trying to calm you. “I’m an Avenger.” That’s how you knew him. The Falcon. You vaguely remembered seeing him in the back of photos, never quite taking centre stage. “That answers the first question.” “We’re looking for a serum that’s supposed to be stored here.” You turned towards the man with the metal arm. “The serum…” You’re mind immediately flickered back six months.

There were only six of you left in the dorm. The prison cell you called home. Weak from exhaustion, the countless tests, the years of suffering, it was easy for them to drag you out one by one. To strap you down to a table and inject burning liquid into your veins. You screamed through the gag as your body was set alight.

“Do you know where it is?” “It’s… it’s gone. I…” Could you really tell them where it was? You didn’t know their intentions. They might kill you. It seemed to register that you were afraid, that you weren’t a threat. The men exchanged a look, a silent conversation passing between them.

“Okay. Look, my name’s Bucky. What’s yours?” He took a step forward, not so much to threaten but to test how you would respond. Your shaking hand lowered, but you didn’t drop the glass. “(Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/LN).” “What do you mean gone? Where did they move it?” “Why should I trust you?” “Look, you’re a prisoner here, right?” Sam spoke up. You nodded. “We can help. We’ve got a jet, can take you anywhere you need to go.” “But only if I help you.” “She could be bluffing. We should leave.” The man in the back said this, shifting on his feet and glancing back over his shoulder. “Shut up Zemo.” The other two snapped in unison.

You couldn’t risk being left here. No matter who these men were, they were far better than those who held you prisoner. “I’m not bluffing. The serum is gone. I’ll tell you more, but your friend is right. We need to go.” The man in question, Zemo, was examining you even more closely now. His stare sent chills through your body. It was as if he was inside your mind, pulling it apart, exposing your secrets. “He’s not our friend,” Sam interjected. “Come on.” He stretched his arm out once more, gesturing for you to join them, and you dropped the glass, skirting around the bed. “We’re getting you out of here.”

You followed without question as they lead you through the building. Despite spending so long here, you had never seen more than brief glimpses of the endless corridors. Out through a hangar, the sunlight blinded you. Five years without the sun. No time to take it in. The four of you exited through the main gate – there was no one left to stop you.

A mile or so out a truck sat waiting. It had been hastily covered in branches, which Sam and Bucky pulled away quickly while Zemo stood at your side. You could feel his eyes watching you.

Once it was clear, Sam sat in the driver’s seat and Bucky stepped gracefully into the truck bed which had benches on either side. A hand on your upper back ushered you forward and you obeyed, taking Bucky’s outstretched hand and letting him help you up. You sat beside him as Zemo joined you. He sat opposite, hands on his knees and gazing past you. The engine started with a rumble and Sam took the vehicle back onto the road. You travelled in silence, the only sound the turn of the tires on the gravel and Bucky’s occasional sighs. You kept your eyes fixed on your hands which fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. This didn’t feel real. What if it was all a dream, or, even worse, a trick? A simulation to see what you’d do, and any moment now your rescuers would reveal themselves and send you back to an even worse hell.

Bucky seemed to catch onto your anxiety, resting his warm hand on your shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. It helped a little.

Soon enough you were arriving at an airport where a plane sat waiting. You followed the men up the stairs, Zemo and Bucky in front and Sam behind you. What you found was nothing like what you were expecting.

You had imagined a military operation, crates and weaponry, nets against the wall, functionality over everything else.

Instead, you had been shown into a luxurious jet. Spacious, with leather seats and dark wooden tables, a plush carpeted floor against your bare feet.

“Wow.” You couldn’t stop yourself from gasping. “Danke,” Zemo smirked at your reaction. “I am rather proud of it.” “This is yours?” He nodded. You chuckled, almost in disbelief. This was it. You were actually free. Once you were in the air they would never be able to touch you again. “Take a seat, (Y/N).” Sam gestured towards the chairs. “It’ll be a few hours before we get to Riga.” You’d never heard of the place, but it didn’t matter. It was far away from here.

Settling into a seat towards the back of the plane, away from the three men who sat together, you closed your eyes and breathed a sigh of relief.

Free.

CHAPTER TWO

[phoebehalliwell]

on the subject of crackships.

in a prue lives, phoebeleo piperkyle pruecole paigeandy au (in which paige meets them in s1) how do u see it playing out and ALSO. do u see them all having kids still. this is so random i am so sorry (also i don't mean they have to be set from the get go and never get w anyone else but these would hypothetically be endgame)

i mean with phoebeleo like hard yes like in s2 when they're watching the baby at the end everyone's like phoebe ik you're gonna be a great mom you're gonna have like a million and one kids like mark my words and phoebe's real smitten about it like wow u really think you : ) i'd like to. guess i should probably find a guy first tho huh. but if that guy's already there bc it's leo and he's been here since season one i think they are easily first to have kids and first to get a full power of three the other three is definitely like another can of worms bc like.

okay so for paigeandy obvi we're starting andy's an old childhood friend of the halliwell's for the sake of cleanliness did not date any of them (if we're going messy tho dated prue hooked up once or twice with phoebe (not while dating prue, but neither of them ever mentioned it around prue bc well. yikes.) And piper had a major crush on andy for like. a decade. from ages 13 to 23) and he's a cop and does. stuff idk helps people and this lands him frequently in bed with social services which is. consistently. a pain in the ass. and he doesn't try to hold it against them bc they're clearly understaffed underpaid there's a lot to do but um jesus. and everyone in the precinct Hates having to go over there to do stuff bc you're just standing in the lobby drinking bad coffee for fifty minutes before you can even get a word in with the work and unlucky andy he drew the short straw ends up at social services and who should he meet there if not this gorgeous but really scatterbrained berkeley grad with a mouth like a sailor and a heart of gold and now um there's no need to draw straws at the station because andy straight up volunteers to go to social services just to see paige which she notices of course because like. were you jinxed or something? cursed? i've never known someone to draw the short straw so many times. and andy's like no i just um. like being hands on with my work i don't like leaving up to some dumb rookie with bad luck and paige is like oh don't worry i promise it is still being left to some dumb rookie with bad luck i mean i am right here blah blah blah banter conversation hint at a tragic backstory give it half a season and then it's official bf/gf shit and as far as charmed goes it's a prophecy about four sisters and the halliwells are like phew. dodged a bullet there lmao. until they do something only charmed ones could do and they're like Wait. Fuck. Is There A Fourth Sister Out There? so they find paige within the first hmm ten episodes or so.

so since we have both s1 phoebeleo and paigeandy i'd say they'd be on the fastest track but i feel like paige does have a lot more issues when it comes to getting married and having kids than phoebe does regardless i think by s4 they're married on track to have kids with pruecole we're doing the s3 introduction and the enemies to lovers arc we seal that with either a wedding at the very end of s4 or at the very beginning of s5 however kids is like. like they both want kids but prue has daddy issues and cole has mommy issues not to mention the charmed one/demon hybrid so they need to do some soul searching on that one. prue's probably pregnant by the end of s5 and has her baby halfway thru s6. paige may or may not have had kids at this point if they did they were kind of a whoopsies baby but she and andy r embracing it with open arms.

piperkyle imo is peak in a divorce/widower era it's been pitched like piperkyle au where he's not fucking insane piperkyle au where she's not brokenhearted piperkyle au where they're both normal happy people who then meet but like. nah. the appeal of them to me really is being the broken fucked up human being and feeling like you're kinda just gonna stay broken and fucked up bc you had your shot and you blew it so now you're here get used to it and then to have someone to meet someone who sees you so genuinely as you are that at first it's disgusting leave me alone i hate you but out of that just honest sight grows familiarity and comfort and before you even realized it happened love and jfc i'm in love with them???? but you realize that you're always happier when they're around you want to stay by their side and you don't even have to wonder if they feel the same because you just know they do because you Know each other and you don't have to wait for them to turn and run once they see who you really are because they know who you are they've known from the start saw the ugly the broken and vile and looked past that and saw the beauty and genuine love underneath like 🗣‼🗣‼🗣‼🗣‼. piperkyle consistently makes me insane. So. in order to hit this. we're bringing in dan. that's right, from season two to six (maybe just five but i'd like to have the pruecole arc wrapped up in a nice bow by the time we open up the next enemies to lovers) piper and dan give a relationship the old college try going from the honeymoon phase to the cringe failmarriage stage until it's eventually just time to call it quits like you literally can't move forward. so because of the delayed start piperkyle would def be the last to have kids but because this is a long slowburn full of character development and just like. vulnerable bonding moments i think that once they go official as a couple wedding and kids are not far off on the horizon i think if we close out a season (a hypothetical 9 or 10) with them getting together for the first time then we gotta burn some miles on the freak out denial stage because i always think that's funny that'll last half a season? maybe a third. and then by the end of the season we're looking at a wedding. by the end of the following season they def have a kid

superlatives!

most fashionable couple: pruecole

most likely to name their kids after dead relatives: piperkyle

most likely to break p tradition: paigeandy

most chill about dating a charmed one: phoebeleo (andy kyle & cole would all be way too willing to throw themselves into danger, leo trusts phoebe's foresight and knows when he needs to sit on the sidelines. it is a lesson all the other men still struggle with)

bonus round!

best bromance: 1st place: leoandy 2nd place: leocole 3rd place: colekyle

[nagia-pronounced-neijia]

w(h)ip wednesday

It's a surprisingly quaint little farm, the kind of thing some traveller from the far-away west might paint into his little journal and tell all the Belgians and Austrians and French about.  Green hills rise up in a gentle roll, with occasional stones that must have tumbled down from God-knows-where, looking pushed up through the grass and the barley like crooked teeth.  Sheep meander among the gray rocks, bleating occasionally to each other and munching on the plants.

As they step past the low wooden fence, Trevor spots a goat chewing cud in a pen.  It stares disinterestedly at them, eyes gleaming with that peculiar mix of cunning and stupidity native to goats.  If it was ever a person, their mind seems long gone, he thinks, replaced by a goat's determination to be the biggest pain in the arse it possibly can.

They keep going and find a yard full of chickens.  Here chickens, there chickens, everywhere fucking chickens.  Mostly roosters, judging by the wattles, which he finds odd, and when Sypha steps too close to a hen, one of the stupid cockerels jumps at her.  His wings flutter, feathers flying further than he can, and he seems determined to murder her with talon, beak, or both.  He makes the most insane noises as he does it, like metal screaming.

It's instinct to try and put himself between her and something trying to hurt her.  Even something as small and stupid and surprisingly vicious as a pissed-off chicken.  He raises his arms to block the pecks and scratches, glad of the fur-and-leather vambraces, thick enough that he feels nothing.

"Calm the hell down," Trevor says, and puts a boot to the bird, which doesn't improve his disposition, exactly, but does manage to make him reconsider attacking.  "I'll do it again," Trevor warns him, and immediately feels like an idiot.

But the rooster subsides, sulky, glaring at them both with beady eyes.

And the cabin door swings open.  The woman who steps outside isn't quite pretty, but she's striking.  He thinks her nose might have been broken, once, and her hair falls loose around her shoulders in a riot of deep red that catches in the sun.

But it's her hands he's most interested in, and, just like every family book always said, they tell the real story to him immediately.

Her face may look youngish -- certainly only of middle years -- but her hands, too pale, have wrinkles and liver spots, a sure sign of a witch.  The deep, nearly black bruising that extends from the nail to the second knuckle of her littlest fingers, however, is the mark of a witch who has embraced questionable magic, if not outright reveled in the foulest and blackest of workings.

Beside him, Sypha moves to wave one arm.  "You must be Sârșe," she says, and he can hear that she's smiling.

The woman inclines her head.  "I am.  And who might you be?"

"I"m Sypha, and this is Trevor."  She jabs at him with an elbow.  He doesn't jab back, but mostly because he's trying to figure Sârșe out.

"Hello," he says, about a second after Sypha's pointy elbow makes contact a second time.

Sârșe watches them both.  Absolutely no emotion colors her face.  Even her eyes look flat and lifeless, no more interested in them as people than the goat had been.  "What have you come to find?"

He sighs.  "Oh, we found it already."

"Trevor," Sypha hisses.

But Trevor ignores her.  "Look, we know you're a witch.  Well, Sypha suspects.  But I know.  And I don't care about the whole," here, he makes a sort of quotation mark with the fingers of both hands, "'demons into chickens' thing.  Not sure anybody should be eating those, but it's not my business."

The very furthest corner of Sârșe's mouth curls up for about a second before smoothing back down.  Her gaze remains flat.  "And what is your business?"

"I'm not saying I expect you to turn them all back, mind, because I know that's not how it works.  But how many of your sheep used to be people?"

He's a little relieved when, rather than hotly deny it, Sârșe licks her lips.  "All of them," she says, calmly, like she doesn't care at all.

Well, that explains at least one of her fingers.  Hell, he's a little surprised it hasn't spread further.

Sypha's the one to step forward and ask, "Do you have any plans to stop?"

Sârșe stares between them for what feels like several minutes.  It's probably not even a whole minute of its own, but it sinks its teeth into him and drags.  Her eyes look like empty wells, endless and awful.

"No," she says, still very calm.

"Told you," he mutters to Sypha.  "When they're this far gone, they don't really listen to reason."

That draws Sârșe's attention.  She snaps her head to look at him.  Something even darker stirs in her dark eyes, moving and shifting, and they bite into him.  He doesn't look away, but he wants to, because eyes like those see, and the brain behind them judges, and men are always found wanting in a gaze like that.

Found wanting and then turned into farm animals.  And then potentially sold at fucking market day, to be slaughtered and eaten. Christ.

"Do you think yourself such a hero, Trevor Belmont?"`

He lets out a short bark of a laugh.  "I helped kill fucking Dracula, sure.  But what I was really doing was helping a man kill his own father.  What kind of hero is that?"

She repeats the question back at him, emphasizing it.  "What kind of hero is that, Trevor Belmont?"

"No kind at all," he replies.

And, for the first time, she smiles.  It's terrible and pitying.  "Will you kill fucking Sârșe?  And if you do, what will you really have done?"

Sypha fields this one.  "We'll have stopped animals that used to be people being sold and eaten by those who once knew them.  You have to admit that's grotesque."

"I admit no such thing.  They know who I am.  They know the consequence of crossing me.  They know what I bring to market day.  They choose to buy from me regardless.  Their business is no business of mine."

God, witch logic.  It's all perfectly factual, but frustratingly circular in a way he can't put words to.  A sort of pure, unfeeling truth that leaves no room for honesty or humanity.  Infuriating.

"Yeah, done with you, now," Trevor says, and draws the Vampire Killer.  Consecration is little good against witches except in their hands, but the Morningstar would be worse than useless.

Where's a rowan branch when you need one?  Not that there would be a single rowan tree on this property; they would have all died the first time she took a piss here.  Hell, if he were half the Belmont that Sypha thinks he is, he'd have a fucking pouch of salt on him, and he doesn't.  Their salt is in the wagon with their goddamned cooking supplies.

Sypha conjures a ring of fire, driving away all the chickens and other animals from the farm, and Sârșe's eyes widen for a moment.  She looks between them again, gaze darting from Sypha to Trevor, trying to determine if the Belmont or the fellow magician is the bigger threat.

She apparently decides on him, because she flings an arm out and tries to drag him toward her.

Trevor, more used to this sort of thing by now than he likes, drops forward.  He lets himself fall, and feels the grip of the spell break as his weight pulls him away from it.  His hands hit the ground first, and he pulls himself into a roll, coming up on one knee.

He lashes out with the whip, half-turning to improve its force as he lets his arm flow then jerks his wrist.  The line sings out, tip whistling, and the metal end bites into her hand.

Her finger flies away, landing with a sort of wet, useless noise in the dirt.

Sârșe doesn't even scream.  She just looks between her now maimed hand and the finger on the ground.

"That was very stupid," she says, somehow wholly unbothered by the fact that he just tore off part of her hand, a part she probably uses pretty often.  She raises the same hand, even as it bleeds, and makes a curling gesture with her remaining fingers.

Once again something grips him, trying to pull him closer.

When she raises her other hand, Sypha slides sideways, colliding with one of the wooden fences.  It cracks with the force she hits it at, splintering.

He's not thinking when he sends the whip out again.  It's anger that drives him to it, and this time, he gets her in one of those tainted, blackened littlest fingers, and Sârșe screams.  At first it's just a gurgling sound of pain, thin and high, like any woman might make when a man reached out and hurt her because he could.

But then it turns to something else.  Something thick and strange sounding, that scratches at his ears and the air around him.

"I name you worm, that crawls in the dust," Sârșe says.  "I name you dog, that licks his master's hand.  I name you cock, that lords himself over nothing.  I name you buck-goat, that ruts and farts, and I name you pig, that wallows in shit."

Absolutely no imagination on the woman.  He supposes whatever demon she serves, or made a deal with, or whatever, has probably long eaten it.  "People have really got to find worse things to call me."

Sârșe laughs.  "What a strange worry," she says casually.  "But needless.  You'll call yourself all those things, in the end, and worse."  And she raises both hands, and this time, she really does manage to pull him in, mostly because he lets her.

Once he's close, she smears her blood on his cheek and smiles that terrible, pitying, dark-eyed smile, and the empty wells of her eyes stare at him, judgmental, even as he sinks one of his knives into her throat.

He pays no attention to the witch's body after that.  Instead, he runs for Sypha.  She'd fallen among the splinters, and he doesn't even think about kneeling, about passing his hands over her to feel for blood, for anything sticking out or misplaced.

"Are you alright?  That was some hit."  And fuck him, his job is to be the one taking the hits.  He still hasn't forgiven himself for the scars on her upper arm from their fight with Dracula.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she grumbles.  "Help me up."

He does, splaying one hand under her back and supporting her under the elbow with his other hand.  He hefts her up, taking most of her weight, and she stumbles a little as she rises.  She leans heavily against him, and he lets her, wrapping one arm loosely around her shoulders.  "You're sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," she snaps, predictably irritated, and waves a hand at him.  "Leave it be."

"Alright, alright, if you say so.  And, well, she's dead.  If we're lucky, some of these people might start turning back.  Do we want to be here for that?"  They probably should.  He thinks his uncle would have.  His father certainly would have.

[spritewrites]

time travel doesn’t change everything

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Characters: the Hargreeves siblings

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Hi everybody! This is a collaborative fic (wow!) that @ticklishhargreeves and I have been working on for a while, based on an idea that we came up with together about three weeks ago. We wanted to incorporate a bunch of the headcanons we’ve come up with recently into a fic. We hope you enjoy!!

Allison’s room could best be described as a bit of a time capsule; posters from the beginning and middle of her career, drawings that she’d made and been gifted as a child, and family photos in the form of newspaper clippings. Going through the drawers and boxes under her bed provided nearly endless entertainment. A small gasp escaped from her grin when she pulled out one specific piece of paper that she’d forgotten about — a somewhat poorly drawn chart that depicted each of the Hargreeves siblings’ most ticklish spots. The tickle fights they’d had as children were sparse, considering they only really had free time for about an hour a week, but damn, were they competitive. This was the cheat sheet that she’d made to always get the upper hand. 

The colored pencil had smudged a bit, but Allison could still make out the faint markings of each of her brothers’ names. She smiled to herself, leaning back on a stack of books to read the chart. They’d been so young then, but she could still hear their laughter echoing down the mansion hallways, as clear as anything. She let out a small laugh at a note in the margin: Ask Mom for acrylic nails before next week.

“Everything okay?” Luther was leaning against her door frame, just a bit bigger than when they were kids, but still with that same kind smile. She smiled back.

“Just reminiscing. Check this out!” She held up the faded piece of paper for him to read.

“No way!” the large figure exclaimed, gently taking the chart from Allison’s hand and sitting on the side of her bed to look at it. “This is from all our —” 

“Tickle fights,” Allison interrupted with a laugh, “yeah. Crazy, right?”

“Yeah,” an awkward chuckle from Luther masked the slight nervousness he felt reading his name accompanied by the bullet-pointed notes: squeeze his calves, scribbles under toes, tops of feet are weirdly ticklish??, kicks a lot. “God, I haven’t been tickled in… years, probably.”

“You were so cute,” Allison giggled, and Luther wasn’t entirely sure that he liked the look she was giving him. “I wonder if this is still accurate.”

Luther cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, um, no way to know for sure, so-”

She had tackled him to the bed before he even knew what was happening. “Only one way to find out.”

She sat across his knees - “You kick, remember?” - and gave one of his calves a squeeze. Luther bolted upright, gasping.

“Um, I think there’s another way to find out! See, I could just tell you-”

“No,” Allison smiled, squeezing again and enjoying the desperate noise her brother made. “I’ve gotta test it to know for sure.”

He got as far as “Wait, Allison, please-” before he was choking back giggles, trying to worm his way out of Allison’s hold as her long nails skated over his ankles. She grinned.

“Okay, so squeezing your legs still definitely works. How about your feet?”

“No!” Luther cried, burying his face in a pillow and nearly squealing as she traced gentle lines over his soles. Allison giggled at the sound, scribbling over his heels and leaning forward to keep his straining legs from kicking.

“Feet are still pretty bad too. Thank God the serum didn’t affect these, huh?” She skittered her nails around the tops of his feet, and Luther let out a screech into his pillow. It was taking all of his strength to not… well, use his strength. 

“You remember that pedicure I dragged you into, right?” she laughed at the memory, and again at Luther’s quick nod into the pillow.

The screech turned into an uncharacteristically high-pitched yelp when Allison held his toes back with one hand, and skittered beneath them with the other. Finally, he��d began to laugh an endearingly childlike giggle. “AH - Allison,” he attempted to catch his breath with a forceful gasp as his massive arms squeezed the pillow to his face, and his legs shook, “Allison!”

Allison laughed at him and his sounds, almost not wanting to stop. “Alright, alright, I don’t want to kill you. Not yet, anyway.” She rolled off his legs to lay next to him on the bed, grinning from ear to ear. “Looks like your weak spots are still the same!”

Luther groaned, trying to catch his breath through the pillow (he wasn’t confident enough in the color of his face yet to look at her). “That was mean.”

“Hey, I was just consulting the chart!”

“You wrote the chart!”

“And I stand by it,” she teased, giving his leg a poke that made him twitch. She grabbed the paper and left the room, satisfied that her victim was suitably tickled out.

Luther rolled onto his back, panting. “Screw that chart.”

—

As she was leaving the room, Allison couldn’t help but notice the absence of Vanya’s name on the chart. It wasn’t a surprising fact. They never included her in anything as children, not even tickle fights. This fact still broke Allison’s heart, but of course, with the opportunity to make up for lost time, it’d be foolish not to take it… right? 

After spotting her much smaller sister reading on the couch, Allison made her way downstairs and plopped down right next to Vanya with a grin. 

Ever since their trip to the 60s, the sisters certainly developed a strong bond. Allison was, quite possibly. the one sibling that Vanya felt the most comfortable with; Klaus being a close second. Her attention drew away from the book in her hands, and towards her smiling sister. “Hey, Allison.” Vanya smiled, setting her book down, saving her place.

“Hey, um,” Allison subtly hid the chart by her other side, raising an eyebrow with a mischievous glint in her eye, “Vanya, are you ticklish? By any chance?” 

“Uh,” Vanya chuckled, shifting awkwardly with a shrug, “I - I think so. I mean, sometimes Sissy would touch my neck and it would feel kinda funny. Like the back, right here?” She touched the back of her neck to show her scheming sister exactly where she was ticklish. Big mistake.

“Oh,” Allison chuckled, not expecting this to be so easy. She sneakily reached her arm around the back of the couch, “Like, right… here?” 

Vanya twitched, letting out something akin to a squeak as her shoulders jumped up beside her ears. “I think - hey!” Her sister had begun tracing wicked fingers along the crease of her neck, her nails sliding effortlessly between the wrinkles to get at the weakest points. Vanya scrunched like a turtle, reaching back to swat at the offending hands, but the light touch made her limbs turn to jelly and her effort was not very coordinated. The endless stream of bubbly giggles, however, was new. 

Allison’s face lit up. “Looks like you are ticklish.”

Understatement of the century. Vanya opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a squeal when Allison’s tickles wandered down from her neck and over her shoulders, sneaking pokes in under her arms. 

“Where else, I wonder…” Allison mused, and slid her hands down her sister’s sides. Vanya’s spine nearly snapped with how quickly she arched her back, letting out a gasp. “Oh, here?”

“Allison, please!”

“Please what?” She tapped a nail on the curve of Vanya’s waist, prompting a high-pitched giggle. Vanya shook her head, seemingly struck dumb by the overwhelming feeling. Another pinch to her side, and she wriggled, curling in on herself. Unfortunately, this left the back of her neck unguarded, and with a smile, Allison reached to tickle her there. 

Vanya squealed. “Please, I can’t - mercy!”

Allison laughed at her sister’s reactions, easing off to just rub her shoulders. “Okay, so, neck and sides? Those are the big ones?”

The sigh of relief that escaped Vanya was soothing. “I - I guess so. I think?”

“Well, I still have more exploring to do, but I can be merciful for now,” Allison replied with a wink. “I’ll add you to the chart.”

“Chart?”

“Yeah, see?” She pulled out the piece of paper. Vanya’s eyes lit up.

“Oh my God, this is adorable. How old were we when you made this?”

Allison smiled. “I don’t know, ten maybe? We used to have these epic battles…” She trailed off, catching her sister’s eyes. “I’m sorry we didn’t - ”

Vanya held up a hand to silence her. “It’s okay. I’m included now.” She raked her gaze over the paper in her hands. “Luther was ticklish on his feet?”

Allison couldn’t stop her laugh. “Still is, I just tested it.”

“Shit, that’s goddamn… cute. All of these are so cute,” she said with a smile.

“Aren’t they?” Allison replied, snatching the paper once again with a cunning smile. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some notes to update and some experiments to run.”

—

It seemed like whenever she saw Klaus, he was always talking to some ghost. Usually arguing with them. Sometimes flirting, you never know. The conversation that Allison walked in on today, however, was definitely not flirting.

“Just shut up, you don’t have a goddamn clue… That’s what I said, you never fucking listen to - Allison!”

She paused in the doorframe, amused. “Am I interrupting?”

“What, this?” Klaus gestured vaguely at the armchair across from him. “Nah, nothing important. Just bonding, you know how it is.” He seemed to disconnect from Allison for a second, listening, and then shot a glare at the armchair. “Dickwad.”

Allison clapped her hand over her mouth at the insult, but not quickly enough to stop the laugh that escaped. Whoever it was, they had pissed Klaus off. “Okay, well, I was just going through some of my old stuff, and I found…” She pulled out the wrinkled piece of paper. “This.”

Klaus’ eyebrows furrowed. “Okay… What is that?”

“A chart I made when we were young, to win those fights we used to have.”

“What fights?” Before Allison could answer, her brother’s gaze flicked to the armchair and back to her. “The tickle fights? You made a… what did you say, a chart?”

She nodded. “It’s detailed.”

Klaus laughed. “So organized! Let me see -” He reached up, but she snatched it out of his grasp. 

“Nope, this is valuable information. But, I could let you see… if you participate in the experiment I’m running.”

Rolling green eyes, Klaus scoffed and lifted his arms up, a playful smile on his face as he looked away. He clearly already knew exactly what these so-called experiments were; perhaps Vanya’s laughter from downstairs was a giveaway. 

A smile played on Allison’s lips. She remembered how Klaus never really hated tickles, and acknowledged the note by his name: asks to be tickled all the time, listed alongside others such as SUPER ticklish armpits, tapped his hips once and he squeaked? maybe he’s ticklish there too? Haven’t tried yet. She laughed, launching her tickling fingers towards Klaus’ armpits, only to be stopped by him slamming his arms down at the last second.

“Sorry, sorry. Instinct,” he smiled, already giggling a bit, before lifting his arms again.

All of a sudden, his elbows shot down towards his hips as he choked on his laughter, “B-Ben! No!” Klaus collapsed to the floor within seconds, kicking his legs and screeching.

Allison smiled. Of course, only Ben could rile her brother up like that. Squinting, she smirked, noticing the placement of Klaus’ slapping hands, “Klaus? Ben’s not getting your hips, is he?” 

The silly noises he'd been making between silent laughter was accompanied by a desperate nod, messing up his long hair.

“Good!” Allison exclaimed, a bubbly tone to her voice, before lowering herself to the floor next to her flailing brother. “What a long overdue discovery.” Her pinch to his left hip felt more real than Ben’s spidery ghost tickles, and he squeaked. Her hands moved quickly, though, to lodge themselves under his arms while he was distracted.

The yelp that left Klaus’ mouth was loud enough to make Allison flinch slightly, but her hands stayed put. “Allison,” he whined, squeezing his arms to his sides as he simultaneously tried to roll away from Ben’s way-too-tangible thumbs digging into his hip bones.

She raised her eyebrows curiously as she twitched her fingers ever so slightly, relishing in the squirms and adorable gasps that followed. 

When Allison began to wiggle all ten of her fingers, plus the other ten digits, both on his worst spots, his eyes squeezed shut as his squeaks and laughs rose yet another octave. Curling in on himself, he shook his head, unable to shake either of his ruthless tickle-monster siblings.

“Tickie, tickie, tickle!” Allison cooed as she laughed along with him.

“What's wrong, Klausie? I thought you loved tickie, tickie, tickles.” Ben’s words were snide and Klaus could practically hear his stupid grin.

High-pitched giggles rolled out of his mouth as he grabbed onto a nearby throw pillow. “Stopstopstop, okay! Okay, jeez!” It was obvious that he wasn't that desperate for the tickles to stop; he really just needed a breather. Klaus threw the pillow in an attempt to hit Ben, but it just phased through him. Ben stuck his tongue out. 

“Asshole,” Klaus grumbled at his invisible brother. Allison laughed again, before leaning over to whisper something into Klaus’ ear. A noticeable smile washed over his face as he looked directly at his ghost brother, crawling towards him.

Ben's eyes widened as he stumbled backwards, falling back onto the armchair. His arms flailed, not knowing how to defend himself since it had been such a long time.  “Nonono, Klaus, what did she tell you? – EEP!” His reaction to Klaus’ quick and repetitive pokes to his stomach was immediate. 

The notes on the chart read really squeaky, ribs and stomach (but be careful!!!), starts begging after mere seconds, & very gullible, so easy to tickle. Ben had always been super easy to trick into getting tickled when they were younger; asking him to reach things in high up cabinets, challenging him to keep his arms up, and tons of tickle hugs.

He hadn’t been tickled since before he died, but it was just as unbearable as he remembered. He couldn’t hold back a squeak as Klaus prodded around the soft area just below his ribs, throwing an arm over his face to hide his blush. 

Klaus threw his head back and laughed. “Awww, I forgot that you were so sensitive, Benny! Guess now we know what’ll happen when you make fun of me, hmm?”

Ben wanted more than anything to snap back at his brother, but couldn’t possibly reply around his high-pitched giggle fit, so he settled on a squeal. “Allison! H-help!”

“She can’t hear you,” Klaus cooed, racing his fingertips up Ben’s ribs to elicit another adorable squeak, clearly amused. 

Allison laughed at the image of her brother kneeling on the floor, ruthlessly attacking absolutely nothing. “No, but I can picture it. Remember those physical exams that Grace would give us?” 

Every month, in order to keep them all in tip-top shape for missions, Grace would perform physical examinations. These exams, of course, included lots of pressing and prodding tummies with her cold robot hands, much to Diego and Ben’s dismay. Diego would often need to have a break after ten seconds, but Ben would always just giggle his little heart out, and could never sit still, try as he might.

Klaus giggled too. “Of course, dear little Benjamin could never stand those. Could you, Benerino?” Their brother merely cackled in response, batting helplessly at the tickling fingers. God, if this didn’t end soon, he was going to die again. Could ghosts die again?

“I… neeheed AIR, you asshole!”

“No you don’t,” Klaus replied simply, pinching at the skin right above his belly button. Ben shrieked, flailed, and ended up rolling off the armchair onto the ground. Klaus took it as a cue to stop and sat back, grinning at his work.

“What’s he look like?” Allison asked, not even trying to hide her sadistic smile.

Klaus grinned at the rumpled pile of ghost on the floor, who flipped him off. “Like shit.”

“Fuck off,” Ben replied, but he was smiling. Mission accomplished.

—

Diego frequently sat in his room alone, doing God knows what. The minute that Allison walked in, he was just twirling one of his knives in his hand. Turning around to look at his sister, who had been smiling at a piece of paper, his brows furrowed, “What?” 

Allison couldn’t help but chuckle to herself as she read the notes beside her stoic brother’s name: ticklish EVERYWHERE, pokes make him squirm, sometimes cries at tummy tickles, GET HIS BELLYBUTTON, & make sure he’s not holding anything. She remembered fondly how her and her brothers would always gang up on him and tickle him until he cried. Grace always had to step in to get them to stop. She cleared her throat, and looked over at him, turning the paper around to face him, “Remember this?” 

“Oh, ... yeah, from those - those fights we had when we were kids. Yeah.” Diego placed his knife down on the desk, and moved to stand up, subtly trying to escape what he feared was about to happen. 

“Hm, what kind of fights were those?”

“You - y’know. The -… the wrestling and stuff.” He silently cursed his sister for trying to make him say it; she knew that he absolutely hated the word, both hearing it and saying it… and experiencing it. Diego pretended to nonchalantly pace away in order to exit the room, only to make his way into the corner farthest from the door, where Allison was inconveniently standing. 

“I heard a rumor… that you can’t move until I start tickling you.” Allison sped up the last part of her rumor, making it so he couldn’t cover his ears as he typically used to. Walking over to him, she grinned and wiggled her fingers in the air, eyeing his torso.

A grunt left Diego’s already reluctantly smiling mouth as he attempted to tug on his legs in order to move, “Dammit! Screw you, Allison! - ACK!” His eyes squeezed shut, embarrassed at the slight giggle that he’d let out without her even touching him yet. 

“What is it, Diego? Surely, you've grown out of letting a few tickly fingers take you down?” Allison teased, poking his tummy with her two index fingers.

A snort escaped his mouth in an attempt to stifle the giggle fit that was bound to start as he doubled over. He tried to use his regained mobility to make a break for it, but it was too late. The momentum from the force he'd been using in his attempts to get away pushed him to the floor. He was absolutely cornered.

“Nonono — I-I, yes, I have grown out of it!” The way his arms were wrapped around his torso and the quick pace of his words, however, told a different story. “I’m seri - NO,” he yelped before dissolving into a squirmy puddle of silent giggles. Allison’s digits were swiftly poking and scratching at any spot they could reach.

“You’re what? Cereal? Serene? Can’t be serious; you’re giggling too much for that, silly.” Ever since they were children, Diego always seemed to bring out Allison’s most brutal teases. “It seems to me that you still might be the most ticklish one in this house, Diego! Tell me, how does it feel to have such a title?” She’d been able to latch her hands onto the sides of his stomach before wiggling her fingers into them. 

His laughter rose in volume when he opened his mouth to speak, “I-It tickles! - Shit, shit,” he squealed over Allison’s coos, “Sh-sh-shut up!” Saying the word, along with his embarrassingly childish reactions to such simple touches, was enough to redden his face. A squawk left his mouth when he felt a clawed hand digging into his lower tummy, dangerously close to his bellybutton. 

Allison stopped for a second, glancing down at both of Diego’s hands clutching onto her single hand on his stomach, and back up at her uncontrollably giggling brother. The grin on her face was the only thing that preceded her free hand flying straight towards his unguarded navel. 

Diego weakly pushed at her hands as he kicked his legs and screamed. His cackles now echoed through the whole house. Both of her hands were squaring in on his stomach and fuck, he couldn’t take it. “Allison - fuck! I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, oh my God, stop,” Diego rambled quickly between gasps of laughter, tears forming in the corners of his eyes, much to his own chagrin, and Allison’s amusement.

He was just so fun to tickle. He always had been. Of course, Allison knew he wasn’t going to die; he was just over dramatic sometimes. “What’s the magic word?”

“F-Fuck off,” he growled.

Allison mimicked a buzzer noise as she continued to tickle and poke around Diego’s hypersensitive midriff, even adding a few pokes to his thigh, and pinches to his triceps, “Wrong.” She laughed at the rather adorable image of her brother, curled up in the corner of his room, hands flailing in an attempt to get the tickles to stop, and twitching away from every little touch. He really was ticklish just about everywhere. 

“I've gotta tell Lila about this,” Allison chuckled, making a mental note. “Imagine her finding out that you're ticklish on your shoulders. And your chest? She's gonna have a field day, I know it.”

A squeal, “Noho, okay, okay, please! Pleasepleaseplease, fuck,” he rolled over, yelling when the tickles didn’t stop, “Fucking please, Allison! Pleehease.”

“All right, you big baby!” She decided to finally let up, chuckling at the residual giggles that escaped Diego’s mouth. 

He clutched his stomach, wheezing. “Christ, I fucking… forgot what that felt like.” A warning look was shot towards his sister, “Don't you dare tell her.”

Allison grinned, poking him again and brightening when she was rewarded with a yelp. “I think we all did, and…” a quick spider over his tummy got him to curl up again, “I think I just might.”

—

Allison clutched the chart firmly in her fist, making her way up the many flights of stairs. Last but not least. She glanced at the notes by the scrawled out ‘Number Five:’ says he's not ticklish but we know he is, flinches when anyone touches his knees (especially the left one), and hiccups a lot after laughing really hard.

Bursting into his room, Allison, expecting him to be doing… well, whatever old man stuff he liked to do, was surprised to find her brother fast asleep in his bed. After all he’d been through, experiencing the apocalypse twice & back to back, he certainly deserved a nap or twelve. 

One thing that all of the siblings agreed on, though silently, was that Five was utterly adorable when he was asleep, and not snapping at anyone. Surely, just a smidge less adorable than when… 

A poke to the blanketed figure made his snoring breaths hitch, and then they continued as normal.

He’d napped long enough, Allison thought to herself, not knowing if he’d been sleeping for two minutes or two hours. Nothing could beat her infinite curiosity, though, about just where dear old Fivey was ticklish. It had been far too long, and she knew he was at least a little bad on his knees but there was no way that could be all. That little body definitely held tons of bottled up laughter over the years that just had to be let out.

Of course his right leg was sticking out of the mass of comforter and sheets. Of course it was. 

Allison quickly spidered her fingers right above the hem of his grey knee socks, that he even wore to bed, apparently. 

A sudden jerking motion under the covers followed as he stopped snoring.

“Fiiive,” Allison crooned in a somewhat warning tone. No answer. She pinched the sides of his knee, only to be awarded with a twitch and a “cough” that was far too loud to pass off as a cough. 

“Fuck off, Allison,” Five’s sleepy voice, muffled by the pillow, piped up.

“Okay, rude,” she replied, going in for the kill, skittering all five of her nails over his knee cap.

He internally cursed at the choking sound that escaped his throat, as he pulled his leg under the covers, in order to provide some defense. The blanket reshaped itself as he curled up, and Allison thought she heard a grumpy sigh through the fabric.

“Y’know, you might’ve spent almost 50 years without other people, but I would’ve thought that you’d remember at least some of your manners.” Another sigh. “No apology? Fine then.”

Allison sat right down on Five’s bed, and grabbed his left ankle, pulling it out from under the covers.

Before he could teleport away, he felt unbearably light and spidery tickles along the back of his knee. A screech that he couldn’t hope to suppress left his mouth, but only took seconds for the bubbly giggles, and the violent kicking, to begin. 

Allison’s steady hold on Five’s ankle turned out to be a major asset to her attack as his whole body thrashed around, tangling himself in his blanket and sheets. She couldn't help but flinch at the frantic movements and his other foot weakly pushing at her hip.

“Good to see little Five still has those tickly, tickly knees!” 

“Allison! Fucking,” he squeaked, unable to hold back the helpless laughter, “Fuck you! I’m gonna - ACK,” another giggle. “Dammit! I’ll fucking kill you!”

The giggles laced with threatening screams were delightfully familiar. “Sure you will, Giggles,” she teased, prodding and squeezing around his entire knee, adding some occasional rib tickles into the mix to make him twitch. 

Five’s hands flickered blue, but there was no way he could teleport with how unfocused he was. He felt like he was going crazy. It had been ages since he'd laughed so freely, let alone been tickled; certainly since before he left. The sensation, so completely disarming while also frustratingly familiar, overwhelmed him.

“Fuck you, I swear - shit! Oh my fucking g- Allison!”

“Yes?” She stuck her tongue out in concentration, digging into the spot just above his kneecap that made him scream. 

Five was in hell. His hands were still glowing, but never enough to do anything goddamn useful. He could feel his leg twitching, trying to kick, but Allison was merciless, and she had a lot more practice tickling his thirteen-year-old body than he had fighting off her adult reflexes. The giggles pouring out of his mouth were starting to grow hoarse, though, and he was pretty sure that if this kept up much longer, he’d actually go crazy.

“F-fine!”

“What was that?”

“I said - ” The tickling stopped, but his eyes locked on where Allison’s lethal nails were still hovering over his ribs. Flushed, he choked back a giggle. “I said fine, you fucking - ”

“Fine what?” Allison aimed a poke at the space between two ribs and he jerked.

“Fine, I’m sorry!” The hands withdrew, and Five curled into himself, breathing heavily through the last remaining chuckles. Allison blew on two fingertips like a gun, and dodged the smack that Five sent her way. 

“Fuck off. Hic.”

Allison’s eyes lit up. “There they are!”

“Huh? What are you - hic - talking about?” Five grumbled, pulling his knees into his chest and sucking in a big breath to try to stop the hiccups.

She grinned, pulling out the chart, and resisting the urge to reach out and poke his puffed cheeks. “I took notes.”

Five’s eyes widened, and he let out his breath, looking vaguely… impressed. “Holy shit. You’re thorough.” His eyes scanned over her scribbled words. “Diego? Really?”

Allison chuckled. “Really. I’m surprised you forgot, he’s the worst of all of us. Even worse than you.”

Five’s nose wrinkled, and he let out a childish snort. “Serves him right.”

“Oh, shut up, you ticklish little son of a bitch.” Diego muttered from the doorway... alongside Klaus, Vanya, and Luther.

Five spun and internally cursed at himself at the blush growing on his face, wondering how long the rest of his siblings had been there watching him get absolutely wrecked.

“I know you are but what am I,” he snapped back at his bigger but younger brother, who’d lunged towards him, ready for a battle.

Diego was blocked by Allison though, and he stopped, knowing not to cross her while she was in the terrifying mood she’d been in all day.

“Guys, enough. Can’t we have just one fun day without you at each other’s throats?”

“Y’know what, Allison, I know I didn’t get a very close look but…” Klaus clicked his tongue as his strong brows furrowed, “I don’t think I saw your name on that little chart.” He made his way over to his other siblings with an unmistakable glint in his eye and grabbed the chart from his sister’s hand. 

Allison always did have the upper hand in all their tickle fights, and now they all knew why.

“W-well, that’s because I made it.” The look that her family exchanged did not go unnoticed, and she stepped backwards, ending up stumbling onto Five’s bed. “Hey, hey guys, wait - ”

The chart was updated that day; Vanya’s handwriting scrawled next to Allison’s name, alongside cackly laughter, super ticklish neck and armpits!!!, accidentally kicked Luther in the head, & best sister ever.

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

I am so living for your angst right now, if you're feeling up tonite, could you do something where the boys poly neglect their mate, she breaks away from them and finds someone new and despite the boys reealizing shes distanced, they try to claw their selves back in, it doesn't work? Or it can be a makeup type thing, I'll leave that up to you

Okay, so this is definitely gonna be angsty. Also, I’m using the “someone new” to basically include Michael in this. Sorry not sorry. I hope you enjoy!!

Exploring My Options (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Reader, Michael x Fem!Reader) fic

Warnings: angst

Word Count: 2540

They hadn’t meant to neglect you. They really hadn’t. You had been with them for so long, they’d just become too used to you. You were a constant background, and, usually, at least one of them would be paying attention to you. Not that night, however. But, then again, this wasn’t the first time this had happened.

You were used to them flirting with other women. Even sleeping with them. How could you not be? You all had to eat, and pretty, young girls were easy pickings for your boys. Just like drunk assholes were for you. You knew that they hadn’t meant to ignore you. If you brought it to their attention, there would be a flurry of looks and blame. David would probably look at one of the blondes, and there would be a quick exchange of, 

“Wasn’t it your turn tonight?” Or Dwayne would apologize and stick by you until the two of you had to feed. Paul might even drag you away for some attention, some ‘loving’ of your own. Marko might tease you and tell you to cheer up. He’d say,

“Is someone jealous, babe?” With his usual smile etched across his face. It would be over as quick as it had happened, but you didn’t feel like bringing it up to them. Pointing it out. Why did you have to? You’d done it before, yet it always seemed to happen again. So, instead, you decided to see how long it would last. That had been two hours ago, and now you were starting to get pissed. You left their sides, secretly hoping that one of them would notice the fact that you had completely left. But none of them called after you. Not one of your mates seemed to care.

It made tears prick in your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away. Whatever. It was fine. It wasn’t like you had been with them for nearly half a century. If they wanted to focus more on their food, they could. The bastards. 

Anger was brewing inside you with each step you took away from the four. The farther you wandered, the more it hurt. Whenever you felt a brush of fingertips or heard a voice similar to theirs, part of you sparked. But, when you looked over your shoulder and none of them were there, it was snuffed out just as quick. It had been three hours in total. You’d been away from them for hours, and none of them seemed to notice. Finally, your heart started to crack. 

Could they really forget you this easily? Could they go on same as always without you there? As if you’d never been there at all? Did any of them even care about your bond? 

You could feel tears brimming your eyes, and you had to quickly wipe away a stray tear. You didn’t want to cry in public, and if you started you wouldn’t be able to stop. So, you turned towards the nearest distraction. There was a live show playing right on the beach. Usually, Paul would take you. But that was only when some heavy metal band was playing. The guy on stage had a saxophone and was oiled up so much it was almost comical. But there was electricity in the air, and it was the opposite of what was settling inside your still, cold heart. So, you descended down into the sand and wormed your way into the crowd.

You were used to catching attention. It was just what happened. Usually, it’d be a drunk surf-nazi who was more content with just fucking your brains out instead of actually finding out your name. But a boy, one that you’d never seen before, was staring at you. You caught his eyes. They were blue, like two of your lovers. But not ocean or crystal like their’s were. They were dark, and almost grey. His hair was curly and brown, and his jaw was angular and square. You didn’t have a single boy like him. He smiled at you, but you didn’t smile back. Instead, you turned and walked out of the crowd.

You hadn’t meant for him to follow you, but there he was. You knew you were heading back towards the boys. You could feel their pull, your bond guiding you back to them. But, perhaps, you didn’t walk as quickly as you could’ve. You knew he was getting closer, and you only slowed just a little bit more. So, he was right behind you. A hand grabbed your wrist, but only to grab your attention. It dropped the minute you looked over your shoulder, and you saw the boy from earlier. You had been wishing for one of your boys to do the very same the entire night, and the action made you decide something. If your boys were so concerned with their meals, then you’d amuse yourself with other pleasures just the same. 

“Hi. What’s your name?” He asked, and you gave him a small smile. You gave it to him, and he quickly supplied his own. “I’m Michael.” After only a short conversation, he was leading you to his bike. It wasn’t too far away from where your boys were, and you knew that they were probably close by. All on their own set of wheels. You chuckled to yourself when you saw it. It reminded you of your boys, and, for a moment, you thought that he wasn’t so different from them. “You wanna grab something to eat?” He asked, and you smiled. You tilted your head, and you debated eating him. He was pretty. Almost unfairly so. It’d be a pity to waste such a face.

You felt a mental tap, and you didn’t have to look to see where it’d came from. The boys had noticed your absence, and who you were with. You shut it out. Shut them out. If they wanted you, they should have done something about it already. Now, you had someone else to amuse yourself with.

“I already ate, but you said you’re new, right? Maybe I could show you around Santa Carla.” You offered, and he gave you a wide smile. It was petty, you knew. You were telling the others exactly what you planned on doing with this boy. He wasn’t a meal, at least not tonight. He got onto his bike, and said,

“That sounds great.” And then there was a roar of bike engines all around you. You rolled your eyes when you heard David’s voice behind you, and you gave him a flat look. He tilted his head and asked,

“Where you goin’, y/n?” He asked, and the same anger from before flared up. Oh, he had nerve. He’d ignored you, all of them had, for practically the entire night and, now, he was interrupting you? You frowned at him. David didn’t scare you, none of them did. You were their mate. The only one that had to worry was Michael.

“For a ride. David, this is Michael. I was gonna show him around.” You said, and your boys didn’t seem pleased. They had circled his bike, preventing him from driving off. Even so, he reached for your hand and quietly said,

“Let’s go.” And you gave the others a pointed look. David frowned, as did the rest. Well, except Paul. He had an easy smile on his face, but his eyes were sharp. Trained on the brunette, and sizing him up.

David called your name and raised his brows. You knew what he was doing, and you could hear his voice in your head. What do you think you’re doing? He asked. You gave him a small smile, and you tilted your head. Exploring my options. You replied, and you gave Dwayne a look. You silently told him to move his bike, and his face hardened. Dwayne stared at the other brunette, and then he looked at David. David was their leader, but you were their mate. The only girl in their pack. It gave you a certain unspoken power, to hold all of their hearts in your hand. None of them ever wanted to upset you, but that was exactly what they had done. Silently, Dwayne moved his bike to the side, giving Michael barely enough room to leave from where they had trapped him. There was a flurry of thoughts in response, but Dwayne stared at you. He knew that if they stood in your way, you’d only widen the gap that had developed between them. As angry as David had been in all of your heads, you knew that he knew the same.

It’s why Michael wasn’t dead the next night, or the night after that, or the night after that. They didn’t know what you were doing, but you were giving them a taste of their own medicine. If they didn’t want to pay attention to you, then you didn’t have to pay attention to them. It didn’t matter who you arrived with. You always left the boardwalk with Michael. He was sweet. He reminded you of when you and your boys had first started dating. He was completely enamored with you, and he followed you around like a stray dog. He begged for any scraps of attention, and his devotion would always make a smile creep across your face.

Your boys were becoming restless. David was tightening his grip even time you drifted further away. He was determined to keep you, but he let Michael have you in the meantime. He was going to wait until you got bored or hungry. A more arrogant part of him thought that it would be over soon, but that certainty became more and more fragile the longer he lasted. He was becoming angry, and he had once made a comment about ‘turning him if you like him so much’. But you knew David would like nothing less. Instead, he settled for icy glares and sharp words in passing.

Paul was impulsive. He tried to draw you back with affection. He kissed you longer and harder before you left the cave, and his attention barely left you. You were the one that always left them. He held your hand ever so tightly before he was forced to drop it, and he practically dragged you to your nest every time you came home reeking of the blue-eyed brunette. You never did anything with Michael, but it drove him just as insane as if you did. He’d scent mark you for hours, and he didn’t try to hide his displeasure when you didn’t return the gesture. He whispered, 

“Why are you doing this? Don’t you want me anymore?” But you’d always assured him the same way he had assured you. You told him that he was your mate, that you’d never not want him. But you knew how empty those words felt on that side of them. How they barely helped.

Dwayne was a silent storm. He watched every move Michael made. He watched how you barely entertained them. He was silent, and he never made a comment to him. Instead, he’d kiss you before you left. Always on the forehead. It was a silent reminder, to both you and Michael. You were his. You were theirs. He’d tilt your chin up afterwards. He was waiting for the day that you would lean up, press a kiss to his lips and finally decide to end whatever game you were playing. Waiting for the same exact day that David was. He’d stare down at you, but he wouldn’t even speak to you over your mental link. When you slipped out of his grasp, he let you.

Marko could barely stand this. He wouldn’t get off his bike when Michael approached to draw you away. He’d grip the handlebars so hard you were sure one day he was going to break them. His face was unreadable, but his eyes were alight with anger. He glared at Michael, almost just as fiercely as David did. You’d heard his thoughts on multiple occasions. Just say the word. He’d thought once, and you’d given him a glare right back. He’d scowled the moment your eyes met, and he’d clicked his jaw before he’d driven off. He was the most hotheaded of the four, and he would do something you’d make him regret if he lost his temper.

They had no intention of letting you go, and they each tried to claw their way back in. They tried to win you back by letting you do what you wanted. When you failed to grow bored, they took Pauls route. They layered on the affection, even if their growing anger tainted it. Finally, after nearly four weeks, Marko snapped. He kicked over a lit barrel, spilling the flames onto the cave floor. You hadn’t even gone to the boardwalk yet.

“That’s it! I’m killing him.” He said, and he headed straight for the entrance of the cave. As if he was going to do it as soon as possible. You snatched his wrist and he ripped it right out of your grasp. It had been the tipping point for the both of you. Words had been screamed between you, and the others didn’t know whether to join or stay out of it. They decided that was their own choice to make. Dwayne ended up being the only one sticking to the sidelines as the four of you screamed at eachother. It had taken hours for the fighting words to finally be put aside and for them to get out why you were doing this. 

You’d felt ignored. Not just that night but several nights for years. It had been growing. A doubt that had wormed it’s way into your heart and head. That night had just been particularly bad. That night had just been your tipping point. You hadn’t even slept with Michael, barely grazed the tip of the iceberg of what they’d done with other women. You wanted someone that would pay attention to you. Someone that followed you around like you were everything they ever wanted. You admitted it as sobs escaped your throat, and you pushed them away when they tried to hold you close. They ignored your attempts, and you were pulled into a hug by all four of them. You tried to struggle, tried to stay mad. But it was useless. Their scent always calmed you, and you’d barely gotten to hold or be held by them in the past few weeks. You relaxed and sobbed, and David held you to his chest. They each whispered soft words to you, and your chin had been lifted to press even softer kisses to your lips. Words of assurance and affection had been passed between all five of you. How you would never truly leave them, and how they only ever wanted to come back to you.

They didn’t bother taking you to the boardwalk that night, and the next time they did you’d convinced them not to slaughter Michael.

“You know, he really isn’t that bad. You might even like him.” You told them, and they all scoffed and rolled their eyes. Yeah, sure, they would.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 16

First time reader click here

Summary/TWs: Trouble is brewing. Canon-typical violence, graphic descriptions of wounds and Clint whump. Bad, terrible, no-good medical accuracy. Aliens. Reader is an anxious genius with low self-esteem and PTSD. ✨spicy sadness✨

From now on, chapters will be posted un-beta-ed. She's taking a lil break. 💖💝✨

I liked to think I had made peace with the fact that my boys and girls had one hell of a dangerous job. Natasha, Clint, Steve and Bucky frequently left for missions and while I missed their usual bickering in the background, it wasn't like the tower's common room became absolutely quiet. The fact that they mostly did recon-only missions helped, too, as they would come home unharmed and in one piece. The worry was there but subtle - like setting the table and including silverware for the people who were gone on a mission.

Peter's patrols went less smoothly, usually. He was small and even in his spider-suit, the boy was frequently underestimated by common thugs. Apparently, they didn't know how to read the news - it was blatantly obvious the hero was enhanced. And yet somehow, Pete more often than not sported all sorts of bruises, scratches and tears.

Tony and I routinely tore out our hair over the spiderboy's carelessness. The engineer had a funny way of showing he cared for Peter. Once I got to know him better, my brain dubbed them as Irondad and Spiderson. And it wasn't weird at all, somehow, that I was basically fucking my best friend's dad. Tony never made me uncomfortable, if anything, he went to great lengths to accommodate my whims. Tony continuously found time for me, answered my dumb questions and soldiered through the shenanigans I got up to after having too much caffeine and too little sleep.

Sitting in the quiet, empty common room was unnerving. It was shortly after dinner time - the evening news skipped their usual political debate in favour of the battle that was raging downtown, the reason for my headache and wrung hands.

I missed Tony's running mouth. The aliens the team was fighting looked quite hilarious, murderous intentions aside, and I could only imagine the way Tony and Clint would mock them. Hentai rejects. Tentacle porn knock-offs. The aliens were squid-like, about half the size of a human and very, very slippery, from what I spied on the TV.

An irritated-looking Stephen had me equal parts apprehensive and drooling - one after another, he conjured up a series of small portals, teleporting the aggressive octopods only god knew where. It would have looked incredibly badass if not for the exhausted sheen of sweat I could see on his brow, even despite the camera footage being shaky and grainy.

The news footage showed Tony - Iron Man, soaring contentedly through the darkening skies and taking out the squirmy mass of tentacles with his plasma beam repulsors. Steve and Bucky and Loki appeared too, sporadically, being well-oiled murder machines. Nothing new.

Yet, I worried. The little worm of doubt was squirming full-force. I tried to ignore it, yet pacing, sitting and playing Candy Crush got me nowhere. I pestered Friday to order pizza, the team's usual post-mission order plus a large one for me - stress-eating was better than stress-popping-molly in a tower full of superheroes. It took some courage to admit to myself I'd gotten attached enough to be this much from running away from all that in a blind panic.

And it would be the best option for them, really, because they had much sensible things to worry about than me. Yet every time, my selfishness won against even the most logical arguments I presented. I hated fighting myself but it was all I did - not only I was in love with Tony, I loved him.

Even when he forgot about my existence for five days, to emerge from his workshop with a new piece of tech that revolutionised one or another or something else. I loved him when he annoyed the ever living fuck out of everybody, me included, because I knew that it was hilarious to see people getting riled up over totally trivial shit. I loved Tony Stark when he ran away from his feelings, and everybody else's, because he never managed to run far enough. Or he didn't want to. I loved him, because he was like a multilayered puzzle, complex and captivating and beautiful.

I thought a lot about it, more than people would have noticed. For someone as selfish and goal-oriented as me, Tony lived in my head rent-free most of the time. And nobody would find out if I had the choice because let's face it, I'm a short cameo in his life. I'm a fuckin' catch and even then, I can't expect to hold his attention forever. His genius is too brilliant to settle for one when he could easily have the whole damn world.

Another hour consisted of me pacing and accompanying the pizza delivery boys to the common floor. It was hilarious - they were obviously star-struck about walking the same carpet as their heroes. I could see the faint hope of meeting one of the Avengers in their eyes, their posture. All they got was me - in my sweatpants, Tony's tee and no bra. My tits got the attention they deserved, at least.

My lounging was interrupted by a golden circle noisily appearing in the middle of the room, followed by Clint abruptly falling through it with a pained moan. I froze, the pizza in my mouth turning to ash - Strange poked his head through the hole in space, finding my eyes. He looked exhausted.

"Help him, I don't have much time," He breathed and disappeared, closing the portal behind himself.

The pizza piece flew back in the box as I stumbled, jumped over the headrest, kneeling beside Clint in no time. "Bird, tell me what hurts," I demanded. Not that I had a clue what to do. I mean, I knew basic first aid and...

"My leg," He gritted out, curling in on himself. Fear flooded me, limbs turning to lead. Hawk had a good pain tolerance, I knew he could break an arm and not utter a single syllable until he thought it safe to showcase his vulnerability. "That squid motherfucker stung me, I don't know. My whole body is on fire," His speech was slurred.

I nodded, deciding to limit the touching to only the necessary actions. The leg of his pants was torn and the wound itself was shaped like a whip mark, thin and red and angry. It oozed a yellowish pus-like substance, it smelled bitter, almost like stale water and seaweed salad. I didn't know much about aliens but jellyfish stings, I could work with. A short Google check later, I had an approximate plan.

"Friday, run diagnostics." I ordered, taking a deep breath and filing away the fear, the panic and anxiety for later.

"Mr. Barton has a wound that appears to be contaminated with an unknown chemical that is causing an adverse reaction. The elevated body temperature suggests that his immune system is fighting it. I would suggest a blood test to examine the offending specimens."

A blood draw? I could do that. I definitely, absolutely, could do that.

"Bird, Clint, did you hear that?" I gently touched his shoulder only for him to recoil from my hand, muttering unintelligibly. "Pretty bird, I'm going to help you. Let me." My bedside manner needed improvement - with brain running a mile a minute, I babbled utter nonsense as Friday directed me to the needed supplies. Getting the blood was a feat on it's own - I had to physically sit on top of Clint to get but a tiny vial of the red liquid.

A few tears escaped the emotional fortress I had to build within myself. Clint was in so, so much pain - pain I was inadvertently making worse by touching him. I sprinted to Bruce's lab, feeding the sample to be analysed by Friday, tearing through the room in a hurricane. First aid kit, IV, saline, antibiotics. Restraints, too, just in case.

"Analysis complete. The contaminant appears to be acting similarly to a parasitic infection with a short life-span. Primarily feeds on copper, iron and various metals contained in the human body. Does not appear to reproduce or multiply, my algorithms cannot determine the cause of said behaviour. Calculating..." Friday's mechanical voice paused. "I have calculated the approximate duration of Mr. Barton's symptoms. Onset of critical stage in one to three hours. Complete extinction of parasitic organisms in approximately sixty hours."

"Fri, do you think I have a chance of saving Clint before he goes crazy from pain? And have you figured out what's causing it?" My brain was all over the place.

"I have the best faith in you, miss." The AI sounded almost... Comforting? "I am still running multiple diagnostics. My algorithms suggest the organisms may be attacking the nerve endings - reason unclear."

An idea struck me. A crazy, brash, absurd idea. The pathogen was alien and we didn't have antibiotics to kill it. Even if I gave Clint some sort of medicine, it could go awry really really quickly. Besides, wasn't there a medical team for this..?

"Friday, alert the medical suite."

"Request denied. Per Mr. Stark's protocols, only Sir himself and Dr. Banner are authorized to request medical assistance in case of alien pathogen contamination."

"Fuck. Fuck, that makes no fuckin' sense!" I yelled helplessly. "Okay, do you have blood matching Clint's type laying around?" I asked sarcastically. This protocol pissed me off. What was Tony scared of? That someone would steal alien germs? Too late for that, there were plenty of samples all over the sidewalks downtown.

"A-positive, blue refrigerator, top shelf." Friday's answer was curt.

My hands shook. My whole body shook. Clint was laying in fetal position right where I'd left him and the man wasn't looking better - he became paler, dark circles under his eyes, clammy sweat breaking on every exposed part of his skin. Moving him was out of the question - Clint violently recoiled from me once I tried to touch him.

Reluctantly, I dragged the dining room chairs and piled up whatever heavy things I could on top of them, praying to every god that they would hold a trained man trash around in pain. Then, came the restraints. Belts with clips unlike one could see in a movie with a psych ward. I fumbled with them, then with Clint - very slowly, but I got both of his arms fastened and the man rolled onto his back.

"Wwhat... S'appening..?" Hawk finally slurred, cracking his eyes to see my (probably) disheveled and panicked face.

"This is going to hurt, I won't lie. A lot," I rambled, setting up the tools needed for both a blood draw and a blood transfusion. "I'm not a doctor. I'm not a scientist. You have alien parasites in your blood. I'm going to get rid of em," I announced, not mentioning the fact that I had to Google all the things I was going to do to him.

"S'okay, I trust you," Clint slurred again, moving about much more weakly than before. The tips of his fingers began to turn blue and the blood vessels on his face stood out in a pink-purple web. Not good.

My finest thinking moment: laying out some tarp around the archer and putting on gloves and a mask to minimize the possibility of getting infected. I started with the wound first, carefully wiping away the yellowish goop and immediately sealing it into a biohazard container. Some alcohol around the edges, the wound began emanating a faint wisp of smoke as Clint yelled hoarsely. I didn't even react - man, aliens and their germs were fuckin' weird.

Another biohazard container traveled next to Clint's arm. I had a disposable scalpel in one hand and my courage in another - it was now or never. The vein I was cutting was a minor one, but with Clint's body in total disarray, it was an ugly fountain of pinkish-purple liquid that spurted from it. I was no doctor but blood shouldn't have looked like that.

I stared at the timer on my phone. Twenty seconds, thirty, fifty. Eighty seconds, the blood was beginning to have more of a red hue. Clint's breathing slowed, tremors subsiding by a smidgen. One hundred and eighty seconds, the stream was a healthy deep red colour. With a swift motion, I wrapped up the wound, folded his arm, tied off the blood flow higher up his arm with a spare restraint. Clint wasn't moving much anymore; my hand that periodically checked his pulse shook but dutifully did it's job. His heart was working steady.

Compared to having to drain a friend of his blood, setting up the IV with a transfusion was a walk in the park. My mind was empty of any thoughts but for the actions needed to complete the process.

The container with contaminated blood, closed, sealed and put in a plastic bag, along with the gloves and the tarp. My own exposed flesh, meticulously scrubbed with alcohol until the skin became red and raw. All the instruments, Clint's pants, my clothes - in the bag.

The archer himself was laying still, his breathing steady and calm, face no longer looking like he was one step away from the grave. After undoing the restraints, I wiped down every surface we touched with Tony's vodka - rubbing alcohol had run out and I was too emotionally drained to go downstairs and leave Clint for too long. Whenever the booze collided with a stray drop of blood, a wispy smoke emerged. Such an interesting reaction. Part of me couldn't wait to examine the phenomena together with Bruce. The other part was considering the possibility of having a panic attack in a seafood restaurant.

"Fri, keep an eye- a sensor on Clint for me, will ya? I need a shower and some pants," I denounced tiredly, padding to the communal shower. I found respite, however brief, under the steam for a few minutes. Then I found Tony's old tee and a pair of someone's sweats - I didn't care whose. Post-stress adrenaline shivers had me feeling stark naked in the middle of Alaska despite the room being a toasty, comfortable temperature according to the digital thermostat.

Now I just had to think about what to tell the team.

Propping Clint's head on a decorative pillow and covering him with a soft fleece blanket was the least I could have done for the long suffering archer. The floor was hard but I sat next to him, running a hand through his matted hair, my brain an incomprehensible mess.

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