#I keep finding new details and making a squeaky noise

[ratsonastick]

Hi! Happy new year, sorry my english is terrible, could you make a clarisse fic were user(user is lesbian and non binary and from cabin 3?) is kinda sick (i have fever now and it sucks🥲) and maybe she take care of user or something? Thank you so much! Love your posts!..💙🩵

Hey! Thank you so much, I tried my best (it's been a while since I've written here.) Also feel better soon!

Sick Days

Clarisse La Rue x NonBinary!Reader

Clarisse often never took pity on anyone. She didn't when Percy fell on his face during practice, not when Lucy got stuck in the mud … not even when her siblings lost in a game. 

But then she met you. 

It was a long story about how you guys met, and although she tried to get the story right, it seemed like you kept adding more details she had missed. But she never got angry when you called her out, nor when you stole her clothes, or even when you got sick on the day you were both supposed to hang out. 

A “sick day” seemed to happen every other month with you, and Clarisse hated it. She always felt a weird twist in her gut the day before you had Percy find her with the news.

Every time she let out a sigh and walked off to cabin 3, the cabin that always smelt of the ocean and, oddly enough, was sparkling clean (despite having to share it with an adhd mess of a brother). 

She’d open the squeaky door and quietly approach the room you claimed as yours and open it, only to be met with you staring at the ceiling. 

She'd nurse you back to health because she took pity and wanted to see you feeling better. She would keep her rude remarks to herself for once, and when you had her doing all your tasks, she never got angry because she deeply cared for you.

This was her habit, and even on bad days, she knew that you and your sickness came first, even today. 

You popped your head up to look at the sudden noise, only to be met with the curly-haired girl. 

“Clari” you moaned softly, laying your head on the pillow “my head hurts.” 

Clarisse sighed softly as she looked at you with tired eyes, her hands resting on her hips as she simply stared at your fragile body. Clarisse always had a way of making you feel like she was disappointed in you, even though that was never the case. 

Clarisse took you as her pride and joy, even when you did something stupid, and even after she shunned you slightly, she was still so amazed by and proud of you. 

So, after a few seconds, when she started to notice your discomfort ( x2), she walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, ready to make you feel better.

 “Hey,” she whispered, moving her hand to gently touch your forehead. You winced, and for a moment, she worried that she had hurt you.

“Your hands are freezing,” you muttered, the sea glass you had strung together to make a wind chime blew softly in the wind. And even at this moment, when you were sick and covered in sweat, she thought you were a higher being, a ruler, that had her whipped. 

“Sorry,” Clarisse mumbled, pulling her hand back. Clarisse was caring in her own way, and you were growing used to it. 

Although she wasn’t very talkative, and at some point, she’d lecture you about your terrible sleeping habits, she would eventually shut up and help you. 

She'd show a caring personality that no one else but you had ever seen. Although you hated being sick, you loved and looked forward to seeing this side of her.

“You're heating up,” she mumbled, causing you to sigh. Reaching for her hand, you brought it to your forehead, the coldness soothing the ache. “Your hands are nice," you whispered softly.

“I thought you said they were cold?” she asked and you hummed softly “They are.” 

Clarisse wanted to protest more but decided to save it for later. She knew you were tired by the way your breath slowed down and your hand slowly slipped from hers. 

“Have you eaten today?” she asked, her voice becoming softer as she looked at your smooth skin. “No” you mumbled and she sighed, but before she could open her mouth you spoke up again “Don't yell at me.” 

Clarisse shut her mouth and looked off towards the window “Let me go get you some food.”

she attempted to move her hand from your skin, but that only caused you to groan “Please… you need to eat something if you want to get strong and healthy.” 

You could hear the slight shift in her voice, hearing her sound worried made you slowly drop your hand and allow her to rise off the bed. 

“Can you bring me a donut as my sweet treat?” you asked. “How about an apple?” she replied, to which you groaned, “No, what about a popsicle?” 

As Clarisse grew closer to the door she asked once more ‘how about an apple?” you could practically see the smile on her face, although your eyes were still closed. “Bruh, fine.”

[kkkkkafka]

MY SWEET CHARLIE

Pairing: Michael Afton/Charlie Emily (featuring Teen!Gregory as their adopted child)

Tags: Alternate Universe - Domestic | Adopted Child | Implied Sexual Content | Poems

Summary: Michael gave Gregory a box filled with his old stuffs to keep the teen entertained while him and his wife Charlie were busy. Gregory discovered something about his father through them.

AO3

Today was the day. The day Gregory's little family finally moved into the new place. He was so excited about this for a whole week, to the point he was almost vibrating in enthusiasm when sitting in their car to their new home with a huge grin on his face. His excitement was just added more as they finally reached their destination, even when they stood in front of the house.

"Alright Greg, you can go upstairs and rest while we unpacking our stuff, okay?" 

Charlie ruffled her son's hair, and gave him a soft smile as she was going to walk to the moving services' truck with her husband. But it seemed like Gregory had a different idea, as he immediately pouted after and pulled at her arm.

"Noooo... I want to help you two...." Gregory tried to persuade his parents with his most adorable puppy eyes, but instead of the desired effect, they ended up laughing at his comically exaggerated facial expressions. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't help but turn bright red from embarrassment. It seems even his puppy eyes couldn't help him win over his parents. At his son's protest and he knew how stubborn he could be, Michael just shook his head and sighed while chuckling.

"You may help another time, little lad. These things might be too much for you, so just rest, yeah? You have helped us in packing our stuff previously. Here, let me find something that you might be interested in…" 

Michael came back with a small box from his car, and handed it carefully to Gregory.

"... These are my old stuff since I was a young boy. You can entertain yourself with them while we are busy, okay?"

"Hmm... Okay." At this moment, Gregory was interested enough in Michael's old things, so he took the box from his father's hands and walked upstairs to his room.

Gregory stepped into the room, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of the beautiful interior. It was so different from what he had imagined it to be. He set the box down on his nightstand and sat on the bed, admiring the details around him. It was now that he realized how much he had been missing out on, having only seen the room through images before. After taking in the sight of his new room, he started to dig up the box to see what Michael had for him. 

Gregory's gaze fell on two small fox plushies, the red one wearing an eyepatch while the other was a white one with pink blushing cheeks. Both were dressed in pretty little dresses, adorned with intricate laces, and he couldn't help but smile at the sight. He didn't know his father had a hobby of making costumes for his plush toys, and he found the whole idea simply adorable. They even made squeaky noises when pressed on their noses! 

He put them down on his desk next to the window, and now dived back into the carton box. This time, he found some old, faded photos. They were all about his parents and their family back then. A photo got Michael in his Halloween costume as Michael Myers and Charlie as Wednesday Addams. Another photo depicted Charlie trying to play her guitar bass the first time with her bandmates and a huge grin plastered on her face. Or the one was taken when Michael's highschool basketball team won. They all gave Gregory a sense of nostalgia, and he kind of wanted to be there to see even though he was not old enough to remember those things.

The photos were placed on the desk again, neatly. Gregory found himself a small and worn down leather notebook at the bottom of the box. From the colorful stickers stuck on the cover, it was clear that the notebook was Michael's creation.

Gregory hesitated to open the notebook, unsure of how his father would respond to such an invasion of privacy. But then again, his father had handed him the box containing the notebook, so perhaps he didn't mind too much. Gregory heaved a deep sigh and opened the notebook, hoping to see his father's written thoughts back then. 

The first few pages were somewhat silly, as Michael doodled out a chicken with a huge bib eating a pizza piece, or a purple rabbit sitting on a red guitar bass. Or his notes judging different types of pizza, and Hawaiian pizza received the lowest score being "-999999/10, not recommended, never again" with an angry fox face next to it and the Margherita being "999999+/10, authentic Neapolitan pizza, definitely should try if you don't have horrible taste like my father" with the same fox doodle, but now it had a wide smiley face. The upcoming pages were left blank, only some had few stamps or stickers on randomly. As Gregory flipped through it, his eyes caught some writing.

It was the first part of a poem. The title was "My sweet Charlie". Oh, he didn't know Michael could also write poems for his significant other. Interesting, huh? 

This was enough to catch Gregory's attention, so he began to read it, slowly, his eyes following every letter written. 

My Sweet Charlie

I. 

Oh my Charlie, my sweet and beautiful girl  

Your lips are better than any pie 

And your hands are a work of art 

And every time you smile, my heart flutters, all mine forever

For I am madly, deeply in love with you 

For you are the most wonderful girl I have ever known

And also the most precious girl to this world

I am proud to be your loved and cherished one

Sweet Charlie, she's like a porcelain doll

She has dark hair, like a raven, pale skin like milk

And big, deep green eyes, like shining emeralds

She looks so delicate, yet she has so much strength in her

The way she protects the weaks, and doesn't hold back her voice

How she is like the black cat with sharp claws

But when she looks at me so sweetly

That I can see the gentle princess within. 

II.

Sweet Charlie, a peaceful memory

How my eyes were so filled with awe when I first met her

She was always like a cute little angel

Even with her shyness, no words spoken

I was still so enamored by her

Her green eyes were like two emeralds

Full of love and adoration

And the moment she spoke my name

In her own cute voice

Was the moment I saw who my soulmate will be

Sweet Charlie, our time together when young

How she would follow me, or I would sometimes follow her

The way we always stuck together, like two little puppies

We had no worries, no cares, no concerns

The world hasn't corrupted us yet

We were just little kids

Running around, enjoying each other's company

So much innocence, so much purity

With pureness in our hearts

So full of joy

Sweet Charlie, back when she was a kid

Making tiny clothes for my Foxy plushies

While I was busy playing with the new toys we've bought

She would sit and sew them tiny clothes

To make them even cuter than ever

Then she would hand them to me, with a smile on her face

And we both play with the foxes

This was back when

I wasn't thinking of marrying her yet

But even then, she was my sweetheart. 

III.

Sweet Charlie, is she even real?

The way her face is like a doll, so flat and yet so gorgeous

Like a dream angel, so wonderful yet so kind

And with her green eyes is like I am looking at a painting

Even her smile is rare, but yet so sweet and pure

Makes me melt, just seeing her so happy

Sweet Charlie, always so flustered

When I call her all kinds of pet names

Calling her honey or sugar

Then even worse, sweetie pie and petite peach

I know I am a bit of a cheeseball

But when I call her those names

I just see this adorable blush

All over her face that makes her look so cute and shy

But she always blushes more

When it's me who flusters her instead. 

IV.

Sweet Charlie, you look so peaceful and relaxing

Even though your headphone is blasting the loudest volume

You still look so cozy and comfy like a warm kitty

With your eyes closed, nodding along to the heavy metal tunes

You're so sweet and beautiful even while headbanging

I could keep watching you until your dreamy eyes open again

Sweet Charlie, playing her bass

The way she stands, the way she rocks back and forth

Her bass guitar and her dark hair

The way she plays and sings in her own style

Always looking so beautiful, when she plays that bass

And the sound, so perfect, like a chorus of angels

My Charlie, a girl with such a talent for music

Who makes my heart beat, like her bass guitar. 

V.

Sweet Charlie, and her age so young

At that age, when she wasn't fully grown

She was only seventeen, I was fourteen

What a surprise, to feel my heart pound

When I look at her smile and deep green eyes

The way she walks and talks, with a maturity beyond her years

Yet so shy and nervous, as she was gripping books to her chest

With that short hair and black and white clothing

Sweet Charlie, my angel of love

With the courage to confess her feelings

How she dressed in a frilly dress and makeup,

She does looked so cute and adorable

How she looked at me with fear in her eyes like a little deer

But I had comforted her, tell her that she doesn't need to

Cause I don't care about her looks

I love her for who she really is

I love Charlie for being herself.

VI.

Sweet Charlie, so lovable and cute

She kept comparing me to a little orange cat

That my brain has no cells, and I'm an idiot

But a lovable one, that is why she says with a smile

She's so adorable when she does that, her hair falling on  enchanted green eyes

Making me melt, just looking at her so sweet

I don't know, why is she so lovely and sweet

Sweet Charlie, she is a black cat

So smart and elegant, with her words as sharp as the claws

Calm but can be a cutie pie

With emerald eyes, a face so sweet to see

When she is so into her work, her intellect is like a treasure to keep

But still so adorable when she gets distracted by me

My Charlie, she's a perfect balance between a cat and a fairy

We are like cats,

Both the black and the orange are beautiful and fluffy

And we are the human version of them all

Together, we are complete

She is smart and I'm dumb

I am energetic and she is calm

She is a punk princess and I am a ballet prince

But one thing we have in common is that

We are so in love, we are so madly in love. 

VII.

Sweet Charlie, her small doll-like hands

Just love her little hands, as I take them in mine

With our difference so apparent, and sometimes that makes her shy

How my hands are so big, her hands have so much grace

Her hands as soft as silk, and so perfect, so divine

Her hands are like heaven, they are the perfect size

When she takes my hands in hers, I feel so blessed

So delicate and slender, makes me want to cry

How a small girl like her, can fill my heart

And the way she holds my hands without a doubt

When she looks at me with those love filled gaze

Makes it all clear her love for me

Sweet Charlie, a tiny kitten in my arms

She's so small in her appearance, and yet so precious in my heart

How she looks so cute and adorable when she lies next to me

The way she clings to my arm and my hands

So petite, I could never hurt her, even if I tried

For she is so precious like a doll, so fragile like a fairy.

And I am too big for her, but she feels right in my arms

VIII.

Sweet Charlie, our first time

So special, so perfect, so priceless 

It felt so innocent, as if we have just became teens again

The feeling of her soft and dainty body

As I touch her everywhere, making her gasp and moan

She was so cute when she was nervous at first

But her body was so hot, and it was making my heart pound so hard

It's you, Charlie, every aspect of you

From your sweet lips to your gentle breathing

How you moan to my touch

The way you looked at me, all full of love

Your soft skin and those loving glances 

How you held me, as if we were one

Your magnificent bareness in the sunlight

Your whole body is like a piece of art

I'm your lover and I am yours forever

How sweet to the touch you are

Your curving skin so lovely

In my hands it lies

Your warmth is like a flame

Your softness like a silk, smooth as ivory

And I could never stop loving you and adoring you

For you are like a precious piece of art

A heavenly body full of divinity

Sweet Charlie and her cute chest

So small and elegant, I find that quite interesting

It was so perfectly shaped like a heart

Makes me want to fondle it, to kiss and caress more

Oh Charlie, how you make me feel so full of passion

When I see her was looking so shy and covering up with her hands

That chest is so perfect and perfect because it belongs to my precious beloved angel

Sweet Charlie, and her slender legs

The way she walks it's like a model, legs so beautiful

How her body is so slim and petite

Yet that's the beauty of it, I'd die without it

And her legs, they are so hot, her calves so shapely

I just want to kiss and love it, never stop

Sweet Charlie, so tiny and I'm so big

Yet she can make me so passionate and on fire

The size difference I never cared, my love for her is all that matters

How in bed, she's like my small doll to hold tight

To kiss and caress, her soft lips

The look of bliss and joy when I see her

So tiny, she can be tossed around

But the love she brings is so strong and warm

Sweet Charlie and her bare skin under the sunlight

Her eyes filled with a sense of serenity and peace

The sunlight gently kiss her skin with kindness and love

Making it even more better than the previous day

Her beauty can never be fully expressed in a poem or a drawing

But I am still amazed and awed by it every minute

And I am still in love with a goddess among humans

IX.

Sweet Charlie, a bad girl smoker

That her smoking bad, but makes her so cute

The way she holds that cigarette so seductively

The way she looks so sexy when she blows smoke out

The way she looks so beautiful, she is the girl you can't mess with

Yet I see her as a striking bad girl

And I can't say no to her when she looks at me

With that saccharine yet captivating expression

Her cigarettes are bad, she knows, but sometimes she can't help herself

Especially after that wonderful night together

After all the lovemaking and her body so sweaty

Then that voice of hers saying

Wanna have a cigarette, love?

How can anyone refuse that lovely request?

And I took a puff, and coughed up a storm,

But her beauty makes the tears in my eyes go away  

I forget all about the cough.

X.

Sweet Charlie, the lovely girl that I want to marry

How I want to put a ring on those pretty, soft fingers

I want her to be my treasure, for the rest of my life

But at that time, I was too scared to propose

Too scared that she will reject me

But when I saw her glassy eyes,

Looking at me with adoration

I knew I could not hold it back, anymore

So I asked her to marry me

With a knee on ground, 

Hand holding a silver band,

And she said yes, with a large smile on her face

Sweet Charlie, a bride in delicate white

With a grand suit and a veil

Wearing them all so elegantly

That white veil over her was charming

And her dark hair was so lovely

She was so pretty, like an angel

In all white clothes, I want to kiss her so bad

The girl I adore, now my bride is here

How she is so sweet to be my wife

And how we'll be together, for the rest of our life

My Charlie, my love, my everything.  

Gregory gazed at the old notebook in awe, the golden paper reflected the light from the setting sun. Even though he had known his father to be a hopeless romantic, he never imagined him penning down love poems for his mom. The poems were filled with a love so deep it made him smile just reading them, though some parts made his cheeks turned rouge because what it was implied, but it was still beautiful nonetheless. Now that he knew, he couldn't help but wonder about his parents' past. 

Closing the notebook, he slipped it into his pocket as he heard Charlie calling him for dinner. The sky had darkened to deep blue, with stars now shining brightly overhead. He must have stayed in his room for hours now, he would need to ask Michael and Charlie about their love story and this notebook that had given him a glimpse into their past. 

"Coming, mom!" he called out as he quickly made his way downstairs to the living room. 

He knew he was in for a treat, his parents' love story would be one for the ages, and this little notebook filled with evidence of it would be a treasure for him to keep and cherish. He definitely would ask them to tell him about their stories.

[justreadingfics]

It’s a Deal (Chapter 11)

Chapter Summary: Bucky is ready for commitment.  

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 4.6k

Warnings: fluff. Bucky is so smitten.

A/N: It’s been 84 years, but I hope you have fun! Thank you, @lesqui, for reading it over and helping me out with English and everything. The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated.

Tag list for this story is closed.  

  Placing your hands on each side of your hips, you smirk at the popped-up screen in your office. Another project you just nailed. Ever since the promotion, your productivity has increased tenfold and you feel as motivated as ever, your creativity on a top level. Also, the last few weeks, after you decided you needed some time alone, you did set more focus on yourself and your own projects. Work being one of them.

It’s weird to say the least… you’ve been busier than ever and yet, it seems like you actually have much more time to yourself now. You’ve been reading books you’ve bought but never really got to read them, eating ice-cream at 3am as you watch The Return of the King for the millionth time, your drawers are finally organized and so is your precious DVD collection. You got to explore a great number of parks and spots you’ve never been before, even living in New York for so long. You’ve been going out a lot and catching up with friends and family. 

It was a good decision. You remember in your relationship with Eddie there were always obstacles for you to hang out with people outside the small inner circle of you as a couple. Sometimes the obstacles were subtle, and not always brought solely by Eddie, but also by you who let yourself get involved in that dynamic. You had no idea how much you missed people that were yours only, and not yours and Eddie’s.

It’s been great to be single. Really, really single for the first time in your adult life. No boyfriends or fiancées, no booty-calls or deals. Completely single… A title and state of mind you didn’t really get to enjoy in the first months of being broken up, being too heartbroken to even think of everything you could do with your life then.

Deciding to be alone for a while…It was a great and reasonable decision.

You have to admit something to yourself, though.

Sometimes you just wanna throw “great” and “reasonable” out of the window. Because you do miss him… A lot.

Finding out how he’s changed his mind and predisposition towards your relationship has messed quite a bit with your mind… and heart. You weren’t expecting that at all and now you don’t really know what to do with the chaos that’s bringing upon your feelings. And what’s making it even messier is the other guy who also changed his mind and predisposition towards your relationship… you weren’t expecting that either… however, that particular change of heart hasn’t been making your own heart jump each time you think of it…

Squeaky little yells and an animated chattering sound of female voices catch your attention to outside your office. Your previous smirk turns into a smile while you shake your head to yourself. That type of commotion only ensues when a certain someone drops by the Tech Department.  

With a wave of your hand, you shut down the screen you’ve been working on, before moving towards the sound. What you come to find a few stops outside your office, at the Department’s common area, is a little circle of your female coworkers around a Super Soldier. He’s always a hit among your coworkers, but today it seems like they’re even in a bigger frenzy, fussing around something that he seems to be holding in his arms. You attempt to catch an eye of it, but the bodies in front of you make it quite hard.

He spots you as you approach them and opens a huge grin at your sight.

You smile back at him just as widely and after you come closer and some of the girls make room, your eyes widen and a small little gasp slips out of you when you finally find out what the fuss is all about. They are all cooing and marveling at a beautiful cat on Bucky’s arms, white as snow on a mountain peak, standing there like royalty, staring back like they’re nothing but proud of being where they are.

“Hey,” Bucky greets, prompting your eyes to focus back on him.

“Hi, there,” you answer back while your gaze carries an amused question mark at him.

He lifts a hard drive with his free hand to your vision field, “We collected this last mission, it’s some alien stuff,” he offers you the drive, keeping his eyes on yours.

As you gaze at each other, you reach for the little device. His fingers brush against yours and that’s precisely when the chattering around both of you becomes nothing but a distant and vague noise that barely reaches your senses… until a loud clear of throat sound stands out.

“Alright, girls, let’s get back to our desks and let these two, ahm… work,” Camilla, your closest friend there, gives you a pointed look and a discrete curve curls the corner of her lips as she leads the group - which looks far from happy about it - away.  

When your gaze meets Bucky again, he’s got that shit-eating grin of his that tells you the little interaction between you and your friend didn’t quite skip from his attention.

You bite your lip and are about to say something when he beats you to it, “Sorry, I had to bring her with me.” He looks down at the cat on his arm and gives it a gentle shake, grinning down at her while she looks up at him before her incredibly blue eyes shut in what looks like sheer contentment, “This little girl right here started whining at the door when I was leaving… she just can’t leave my side anymore.” Bucky shrugs and ticks his tongue, before winking at you.

You chuckle, finding the surprising scene before you nothing less than adorable. The fact that you enjoy being in the presence of his charm again doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but you say nothing about it, “It’s ok, of course. I love cats. What’s her name?”

“Y/N, this is Alpine. Alpine this is Y/N,” he introduces you two with pride lacing his voice.

“Oh, hello, Alp-” your attempt of petting the cat comes to an abrupt halt with you withdrawing your hand at the loud hiss the animal aims at you.

Your eyes snap at Bucky to see his jaw dropping and his eyes widening with a mix of shock and fluster, “Fucking Christ,” he gasps, before looking down at the cat who now licks its paws absentmindedly, “What the hell, missy? Apologize. Apologize now,” he scolds, gaining absolutely no reaction in response.

He scoffs, looking back at you with incredulous lifted eyebrows.

You laugh, mainly at his attempt of making Alpine apologize, “Don’t worry…” You wave him off, “How did that happen, though? I don’t remember you having a cat.” You narrow your eyes just when your head tilts.

He bites his lower lip before an almost cringing smile forms on his lips, “Oh well…”

 A FEW WEEKS BEFORE…

 “Weren’t the Skrulls, like, actually good guys?” Bucky frowns, shoving one of his post-missions Oreos in his mouth and crossing his ankles over the spaceship’s dash.

“Every bunch has its bad apple, I guess,” from the pilot’s seat Natasha shrugs, eyeing the apple in question from over her shoulder.

“You’ll regret this,” threatens the prisoner, who’s actually a Skrull slaver named Gragnon and has his hands and feet securely tied up, stuck on a sit at the back of the ship. Still, he tries to get up and advance towards the front, but a shield of red mist surges in front of him, making him fall back on the chair again with a growl.

Wanda, the third member of the party on that mission, smirks from her seat right behind Nat’s.

Nat rolls her eyes, “What a douche… Talos has been leading a search for him for years now, he’d be thankful we’re taking him to them. Feet off the dash, please.” 

Bucky quickly obeys, pulling down his legs to the floor as Wanda snickers.  

“In fact… we should thank the success of this mission to a certain someone, who came up with a device to break alien codes.” The cheeky smile on Wanda’s face as she started speaking only fades so she can shoot a glare back at the prisoner, who’s now revolved by a red mist dome.

“Damn right.” A dreamy little curl pulls Bucky’s lips as he swings on his seat and passes the bag of Oreos to Wanda.

“Jesus,” Nat scoffs, setting the ship on autopilot, before swirling her chair to see both Bucky and Wanda, “Could you ever imagine this could be possible? That this guy would someday be that smitten over someone?” she questions Wanda.

“Not in a million years. I don’t know Y/N that well, but I bow to her.” Wanda mimics the gesture before shoving a cookie in her mouth.

Bucky doesn’t even drop the dreaminess of his smile. He is smitten… completely… utterly… and fuck if that doesn’t feel damn good. He always thought that kind of feeling would be a pain in the ass, boring and painful. It is not. He feels like singing, dancing, hugging every human being and alien he comes across. Fuck, he would hug the Gragnon dude if it didn’t mean to get a kick in the ass from Natasha. It’s been ages that he doesn’t really get high on anything, but that feeling… he’s definitely hooked on it.  There’s not a doubt inside him anymore and he’s in love with being in love with you.

“So, spill it,” Nat crosses her legs, swinging on her chair “You really went to her place and poured your heart out to her? Right after her ex proposed to her?” She questions, “What did she say?”

“Well, first she thought I was kidding and laughed her ass off…” He shakes his head with the same dreamy little smile on his lips, “Then, when she realized I was not, she started crying and, of course, so did I.” He shrugs, ignoring when Nat and Wanda exchange looks, “She wasn’t expecting that from me at all, and, we can’t really blame her can we?” 

“Definitely not.”

“Nope.”

Bucky chuckles at the unison response from her friends before leaning over and snatching the bag of cookies from Wanda, before giving them the details of his talk with you, having their undivided attention.  “And she said she needs some time alone, being single, I mean, to sort her feelings out… Also, it seems like she doesn’t think I can’t deal with the kind of commitment that being in love requires,” he says with a mouthful.

“Oh, honey…” Nat tilts her head.

He notices the sympathy on hers and Wanda’s expressions and waves his hand to brush her worries off, “No, no. None of that. All in all, it went pretty well. As much as I wished it would be different, I think her decision is fair. At least she didn’t say yes to the jackass with the ring,” he huffs, “I wasn’t really expecting her to throw herself in my arms. At least, not just yet.” He smirks.

“What?” Natasha shoots a look at Wanda before turning to him, “You’re not stepping aside?”

Bucky snorts at the question, “Are you kidding me? The first broad I ever fall in love with and you think I’ll leave the path free for that short little clown who thinks ten years matter?” He lets out an exaggeratedly loud laugh, “I’ve lived more than one hundred of them. Ten years mean nothing to me, and soon enough she’ll realize it doesn’t have to mean much to her, either.” A small smile rises on his face, “Of course she can have the time for herself she wants, find out what’s like being single. She deserves that. And she can think and figure out all she needs… have her fun... It’s all good…” He nods, “But in the meanwhile? I’ll be around romancing the shit out of that woman,” he states, right before tossing another cookie in his mouth.

“Holy shit,” Wanda addresses Natasha, with both eyebrows high on her forehead.

“I know…” Nat answers with an equally dumbfounded look on her face, before turning to Bucky, “Listen,” she sighs and tilts her head, “I hate to be such a killjoy here, but… I get you’re in love, and I know this is new and exciting for you.” She’s smiling before her lips tighten, “Having said that… I think she might have a point about you not being ready for commitment Bucky, you never wanted that. I’m gonna be honest here, I’m the one who set what you two had up because I thought it wouldn’t lead to this…” She waves all around him, “Feelings, I mean… and I would hate myself if you two ended up hurt because of it.” She focuses an apprehensive gaze on him while Wanda also rests her attention on him, looking like she agrees with her friend.

Bucky takes a good look between the two of them before putting into words the answer that’s so clear on his head now, “I know it may sound weird and uncharacteristic of me. Trust me, I know that.” He nods at Natasha, taking a moment to silently communicate with her in the way that has been always so easy for the two of them, “You’re right, I’ve never wanted that. Settling down to just one person, commit to a long term relationship…But with her,” he sighs and the corner of his lips curl up without further notice, “I want her and I want all of that with her, the whole package. I’m ready. I’m not afraid. I think the reason I didn’t want all of that before is because I hadn’t met her yet. That’s it. Simple as that. I know it’s not going to be easy, but to hell with easy. I want her. And I want her hard.”

Wanda already has a huge grin on her face when a satisfied little smirk twists Nat’s lips, “That’s what Amanda said.”

Bucky’s eyes widen before he squints at her, “What’ve you been up to?”

Nat puts on a nonchalant face and reaches forward to grab a cookie from the package. She takes a bite and shrugs, “Poor girl… needed some comfort after being let down by your buddy down there.”

Bucky lets out an outraged scoff and throws a cookie on her way, from which she dodges easily as she laughs, “I bet you were of great help in consoling her… Jesus… Amanda and you? The world isn’t ready.” He shakes his head.

Natasha sports a smug smile on her face when she nods her agreement, “You’re not wrong.”

“Alright, as much as I want to hear all about this Amanda girl, we’re getting close to the Skrull base now and we need you to land us, Nat,” Wanda nods towards the dash.

“Copy that,” Natasha makes a military salute at her, before shifting her seat and taking control of the ship again.

“And as for you,” Wanda turns to Bucky, “I don’t need to read what’s on your mind to know you’re telling us the truth. You’re ready for commitment,” she offers him a soft smile, which he reciprocates, “And if you really wanna show her that, I may have an idea.” Her smile turns into a devious little smirk and that’s enough to pique Bucky’s interest.

~~~

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Bucky asks, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walks alongside Wanda through the busy sidewalks of Manhattan, “I mean… I know I said yes, but it is one hell of a commitment, what if it’s not for me?”

“Don’t worry, Bucky,” she smiles, “We’re just gonna take a look around, feel the vibe, and then see what happens. You don’t have to decide anything just yet,” she assures, wrapping an arm around his elbow as he looks down at her, “I just think it’s a good idea for you to get to know a bit more of this sudden inclination to commit…to experiment, I guess,” Wanda shrugs, “Besides, a dear friend of mine runs the shelter and the girl knows her stuff. If she feels like you’re not ready, she won’t allow you to get out of there with one of her babies.”

Bucky lets out a laugh. Feeling a little lighter about the subject, he places his hand over the one Wanda has wrapped around his arm, “Alright… I’m not opposed to the idea of having a dog, I guess. I always loved Labradors…” he frowns, “I would have to switch apartments, though…”

“Look at you.” Wanda nudges her shoulder on him, “Already making plans for your child…”

“Child…” Bucky can’t help but snort. He had agreed to Wanda’s idea of going to an animal shelter because he thought it would be a good way to show you he’s ready for commitment and, like he said, he’s always been fond of dogs and he’s sure if he ends up taking one home he’ll treat them well. But he also never understood how some people could be so attached to an animal to the point of considering them a child, or family…“I don’t know… I’m definitely not taking a pet home today. I agree with you, I shouldn’t decide anything just yet.”

As they walk past a small alleyway, Wanda halts, forcing him to stop with her.

“What?” Bucky frowns down at her.

“Shhh,” she brings a finger to her lips, staring towards the alleyway, “Listen.”

That’s when Bucky’s enhanced hearing catches the thin and shaky little sound coming through the trash cans.

“Come on,” Wanda pulls him to the alley and towards the cans.

What they find behind one of the containers, among all the filth around is a ball of white fur. Curled up and shaking just like the meows they heard seconds ago. A cat, a young adult white cat looks up and a pair of baby blue eyes meets Bucky’s and he just can’t look away from the plea on them and it’s just when something clicks inside his chest.

“Oh, no, look,” Wanda points at the tail, that has an evident injury on it, but when she leans down to examine it further, the animal flinches and rushes towards Bucky’s legs, letting out another trembling and weak meow. Bucky freezes as it starts climbing up his calves. 

Given the poor coordination on their back little legs – probably from the damage on the tail- it can go much higher,  but keeps trying. After the initial surprise, Bucky can’t help but to smile at the little fighter, who seems to reach out at him for protection. Next thing he knows, he’s leaning down and picks it up with all the caution he can muster.

“Hello, little lady… what happened there, huh?” He coos, nodding towards the small injury, which looks like a bite, having the cat meowing while bumping and rubbing the head against his chest.

“Is it a female?” Wanda tilts her head, an amused and questioning expression on her face.

Bucky smirks, not taking his eyes away from the animal, who is now quiet and seems much calmer, but digging her little claws on Bucky’s shirt, “I know a beautiful lady when I see one. Don’t I, gorgeous?”

A purring sound comes out of the now contented animal, the small injury on her tail apparently not being a problem anymore while she climbs higher and practically hugs Bucky with her little paws, whose fur is smudged by dirt, making his heart take a flip in his chest. Damn his heart nowadays…

“Aww, Bucky…” Wanda smiles, placing her hand over her heart, “What are we going to do? Should we take her to the shelter?” Wanda offers, with a bit of tentativeness on her voice.

Bucky’s eyes widen largely, before they snap to her friend. A protective tightness laces his hold on Alpine, who lets out another weak meow. Shit… Alpine? When the hell did he even come up with a name? Fuck if he knows, all he knows he’s done for and can’t possibly think of parting from that white furry little thing, who seems to have gone through a lot in her life already and probably has never met with human kindness before.

He doesn’t need to say anything as understanding falls upon Wanda’s face. He would even guess there’s a bit of pride adorning the smile on her lips now, “Alright, alright… we do need to take Alpine to the vet, though, Mr. I’m not gonna take a pet home today.” She winks.

~~~

PRESENT DAY…

“Oh well…” Bucky scratches the back of his neck while you keep your beautiful interested eyes on him, “I found this beauty on the street… she had an injured tail, poor thing… probably bitten by a dog. But she’s fine now, aren’t you, sweetie?” He coos, putting on the new tone of voice that belongs to Alpine now and loving the sound of your chuckle, “You know… I’m fully committed to taking care of her. I’m a cat dad now.” He says, putting some effort to highlight the word “committed”.

“I can see that…” you comment, nodding with a glimmer of fondness in your gaze at where Alpine is cuddled against him with eyes closed, completely relaxed.

Bucky looks down and smiles. That one is too cute for her own good, but he’s definitely having a talk with her later, for hissing at you like that, like he hadn’t given her a lecture about good behavior and how incredible you were before they left home.  

“So, it’s been a while, huh? How’re you doing?” He asks softly, boring his eyes on you and holding back every ounce of him to not pull you to his arms and shower you with all the intense love he’s gathering in his chest at your sight in front of him. If it was up to him, he wouldn’t have spent those long weeks apart from you, but he met with missions and an Alpine in the way. Also, as much as he’s resolved to show you he’s the one for you, he understands you needed time for yourself. But, hell, he missed you so much.

“Oh, I’m good, I’m good… pretty good,” you ramble, brushing a finger behind your ear, that thing you do when you become a bit self-conscious, which happens often when he places his gaze so intently on you.

He can’t help but smile, his chest impossibly swelled with his feelings for you, because that woman who becomes all flustered with his attention is the same woman who whined to suck his dick while shitfaced after a party. Damn, he’s so in love with you.

“That’s great...Are you free tonight?” He asks, smoothly, “Wanda and Sam will make hamburgers, they’re one hell of a team in the kitchen, you’ll be welcome to come if you want to.”

“Oh… I…” You falter.

“I’m not trying anything, I promise,” He’s quick to add with a chuckle and raises his free hand up, noticing the trepidation in your voice. “Everyone’s gonna be there. We’re just gonna eat and hangout.” He shrugs.

“Oh… no, it’s not that, it’s just…” You tighten your lips “I’ve got plans.” Something Bucky guesses to be disappointment or something like that sweeps into your voice. As for him, he holds his breath, bracing himself for the news that you’re going out with that douche of an ex, “I’m gonna meet some friends from college tonight. I got a reservation for us for dinner and then we’re gonna go dance…”

Bucky lets out a breath and the smile that grows in his face is wide when he says, “Oh, alright. That sounds like fun.” Really, really fun, especially if that jackass isn’t involved. He’s not disappointed. Far from it.  

You smile back at him, matching his mood. It doesn’t slip from his attention that you seem a bit surprised by his reaction at you declining an invitation from him in favor to hang out with your friends, but he says nothing of it.

“Yeah… I’ve been getting reacquainted with them lately,” you say, excitement plastered on the little curve of your lips and the glint in your eyes, “It’s been fun. I’d love to get to know Wanda and Sam’s talent in the kitchen, though….Maybe some other time?” You offer.

“Sounds perfect, sweetheart.”

The term of endearment brings the effect he was aiming for when you promptly does that thing with your finger on your ear again, but it was also noticed by the other girl in the room and currently in his arm, who seems to wake up from her comfort slumber against his chest to hiss at you again.

You look at each other in widened eyes.

“What the hell,” Bucky scolds down at the cat, glancing at you briefly, catching your now amused expression, before addressing Alpine again in a whispery voice, “We’re gonna have a talk back home, young lady.”

~~~

“What a number you put out there, huh?” His voice is gentle despite the reprimanding intention in his words while Bucky crouches and fills her little plate with the special food the vet recommended.

With her crystal-clear eyes glued on the plate, Alpine doesn’t really acknowledge his half attempt of admonishing her before digging in.

Bucky chuckles, “She’s cute, isn’t she? But so are you,” He scratches the back of her ear and she stops eating for a moment to brush her head against his hand, “You don’t have to be jealous, doll. You’re so cute, you’re my girl, too, you know?” he coos, still petting her, “But you gotta help me out there buddy. Ok? She’s really special and I know you’ll love her, too.”

Alpine lets out a weak meow before getting back to her plate and Bucky swears to God he sometimes wonders if the cat is some sort of shapeshifter in disguise, understanding every little thing he says.  

Letting her out to eat, he stands up, “Hey, Friday,” he calls.

“Yes, Bucky?”

“Could you search for a table reservation in the name of Y/N Y/L/N tonight? I need the address of the place.”

A small silence ensues before the A.I speaks again, “Isn’t it a bit creepy?”

He sighs, placing his hands on his hips, “Friday… babe…” He smiles at the giggles that resound in his kitchen, before bringing a hand to his heart, “I’m in love, ok? I’m not gonna ruin her night…If anything, I’m just going to make her night out with her friends more… interesting.”

“Alright, you know I can’t say no to you,” the A.I concedes, “You can find the address in your phone’s map. Good luck, handsome.”

“Thanks, babe,” Bucky grins, before turning to Alpine, who’s now about done with her food, sprawled on the floor busy with cleaning out her paws, “And you?” He calls, catching her attention before he points at her, “You’ll have burgers with your aunt Wanda. I have plans for tonight.”  

~~~

To be continued...

[inkdemonapologist]

Been a lot of emotions in recent BatIM Call of Cthulhu events!!

Prophet Sammy slipped and sank into the mud in the swamp and immediately went into DROWNING FLASHBACKS from his inky death back in the Star Pools. Stunningly, panicking and thrashing around did not help and in fact only got him more stuck.

Henry was the one to pull Sammy out, which is a bit weird, because the Prophet didn’t actually... expect them to... want to help him??? Henry was also leaking gold blood out of his face from doing some intense magic (???), it’s fine, don’t worry about it.

Prophet Sammy ran out of ink, which he has to drink periodically to keep himself from changing back into normal Sammy, and JOEY... GAVE HIM SOME OF HIS OWN INK SO HE COULD HAVE A LITTLE MORE TIME???? Both me and the Prophet were absolutely flabbergasted.

We rescued Jack’s old boyfriend Peter, that newspaper editor guy from before! He was trapped in another world and Jack managed to guide him back to this one and we all pulled his reflection out of the Lake and fought off the eldritch horror that tried to follow him out to our world! THERES A LOT HAPPENING IN THIS GAME

As always Boo has the summary posts for a more detailed description of events, but if you’re here for out-of-context quotes IVE GOT YOU COVERED, here’s some quotes from Session 7:

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[Henry] *rolling dice* Some nice dice clacking for the auditory experience, [Sammy] Call of Cthulhu ASMR [Joey] Some clacking dice, some screaming,

[GM] But you are on the shallower end of it, so you're not sinking. You are SUPER muddy. [Joey] That's fine-- [Jack] Noooo!! Jack's sweater!!!!!

[GM] Jack's turn! Make a luck roll, Jack! [Jack] *rolls terribly* ...hrrMMM... [GM] Okay. We'll just. We'll just keep that. For later. :)

[Sammy] Sammy is scrambling and panicking and yelling! [GM] Make a strength check! [Sammy] Cool, I'm good at those. *rolls* Success! [GM] You strongly thrash yourself about waist-deep in the mud. [Sammy] [Sammy] OKAY, um, [Sammy] That is. Uh. Worse. Than it was previously, yes? [GM] Yeah. :) [Sammy] OKAY, COOL,,, JUST CHECKING,

[Sammy] I don't think it's good when the GM says "Fun!" I think that's bad.

[GM] *flipping through notes* Where are your stats. Where are your stats, sir. [Sammy] "Young man, where are your stats?" [Jack] If he didn't do his homework, then all his stats are zero.

[Henry] Nope. I'm gonna accept my fate. Henry's goin' to space. [GM] The angel doesn't try to claw Henry, but it does pick him up! He's in the air. [Henry] Bye guys!

[GM] A gunshot does come from the brush also, and it hits the angel next to the one that's got Henry. [Henry] (Thanks, Norman!) [Jack] Does Norman have a gun??? [GM] Norman's not going to go into a cult swamp without a gun! What kind of crazy person would do that?!

[Sammy] I'm sorry if we lose your hat, Jack. [Jack] D: Nooo it's not his hat! [Sammy] Yeah I know, well I'm sorry if we lose it. [Joey] Yeah, sorry. [Jack] Noooo he needs to give that back! [Joey] well then he should wAKE UP!!! [Sammy] Love the idea that Peter later comes through here and finds his own hat discarded on the ground and is like, OH NO, JACK! [GM] Make another luck roll, maybe it's still on. [Jack] Okay dice! This is the ONLY thing I need you t-*sound of dice bouncing off the desk* whoOPS--

[Henry] *still held aloft by eldritch horrors* I'm guessing I don't hear anything either [GM] No, you're just having a nice little roller coaster ride.

[Joey] Ohhh... I guess we wouldn't need to breathe in space, huh. [Joey] ...AM I BREATHING???

[Joey] What time is it... are we at like, 8:30, 9ish? [GM] Well that's highly specific! What happens at 8:39?!

[Joey] Joey's still not willing to let random cultists carry Jack, unless they can do something to convince him??? [Sammy] I feel like the main convincing tool at this point is GUNS? Pointed at us. I think that's the main thing.

[Jack] I guess Jack is the imposter, since he's not doing human things like "breathing"

[GM] And shove all of you into a hut! With Norman-- no, that's right, he didn't get caught, I keep forgetting, his Hide skill is higher than I thought it was. Norman's still at large! [Jack] NORMAN, IS LOOSE, IN THE SWAMP [Joey] What crimes will he commit!

[Jack] This is why you don't smear your weird glowing blood on symbols that are known to watch!!!

[GM] They probably did take away a lot of your cooler stuff. [Sammy] I didn't have any cool stuff. I just had a coat. [Joey] You had ink. [Sammy] *muttering* I wasn't going to mention that that was in my coat.

[Joey] Joey is going to grab Sammy's face... and give him some of his ink. [Sammy] *stunned* Oh...! [Joey] We don't need a passed out Sammy!! [Jack] Only ONE unconscious man in this party!

[Jack] How has Cthulhu AU made "Joey feeds Sammy ink" wHOLESOME in some way?!?

[GM] They've got him in a robe now, and they've painted that yellow sign on it -- possibly in Henry's blood, because why not! [Joey] Excuse me, you did not get license to use that; I'm going to sue you in court now, [Jack] Unethically sourced! [GM] ...Did you just call Henry's blood your IP?

[GM] *startled laugh* my husband just said "Intravenous Property,"

[GM] The other prophet guy seems to be having a grand old time. It is even-odds whether he might just look over to see if Sammy's looking, just to smirk at him. [Sammy] oHHHHHH BOY. I hate this guy! I hate him. [Jack] Okay, well, I wanna-- [Sammy] *still going* I know who I'M sacrificing. [Jack] --Sammy, no. [Joey] You want to make a GOOD sacrifice, not give him trash. [Sammy] ...*sighs* Yeah, yeah, you're right... [Jack] You don't want to give the Masked Messenger a McDonald's burger.

[GM] It's Pete! [Sammy] Oh! Sammy vaguely knows who this is. [Henry] I'm gonna make a check to see if Henry recognises this guy, in the heat of the moment. [Jack] In the Pete of the moment. >:3c [Sammy] *groans* Why would you do this. Everyone was being so well-behaved.

[Sammy] I'm gonna... I'm gonna wait. Gonna be actually, a little bit smart. Trying out this new thing.

[GM] One of the angels is definitely heading your way. [Jack] Oops. [Sammy] ...what if we just... close the door.

[GM] And a sanity roll from Joey and anyone else that is watching this. [Sammy] *sarcastic deadpan* Oh No. I'd Better Look Away. *scoffs* Why would I NOT want to watch my lord work?

[GM] It does a d8 + damage bonus, which, I don't think Joey has one. But it does a d8. [Joey] Does Bendy have one? [GM] No! Bendy's damage bonus is NEGATIVE TWO because he's a tiny cartoon character! You don't want his damage bonus. [Jack] You attack and there's a squeaky hammer noise,

[GM] Peter doesn't seem to have a reflection. [Sammy] ...Do we? [GM] Yeah [Sammy] Okay. That's cool, that's nice, luv 2 reflect. [Jack] *whispering* Peter vampire???

[GM] Sammy thinks this is a spawn of the Yellow King, something that happens to people who dabble too much in his worship. [Sammy] Again, MORE reason why this guy is an idiot and trusting the wrong god! [Sammy] ...Sammy knows all this stuff and is still like "yeah, but the Masked Messenger is cool! I'll definitely be rewarded for my service!"

[Jack] Jack didn't learn how to ASTRAL PROJECT for Pete to get eaten by something!!

[Sammy] Did they steal our ink??? [GM] Looks like they poured it out. [Jack] Pour one out for their FAKE LORD,

[Jack] Rescued. From a cult. By a second, different cult! [Joey] Our cult is COOL, though. [Henry] the coolt

[chemdisaster]

No way. 

No. Fucking. Way. 

In what could only be described as complete and utter shock, you stare at the screen of your laptop, a single Discord message staring back at you. "Would you like to join Hermitcraft Season 10?" it reads, followed by a couple of details and an apology for it coming on such late notice—5 minutes before everyone's supposed to start recording, to be precise. 

You don't question how Xisumavoid got ahold of your Discord handle. How he even became aware of your existence in the first place. 

Still numb with shock, you look over at your mouse, wire taped together where your cat decided to chew on it. At your shitty keyboard with the Sprite stains and your old laptop that's definitely seen better days.

All at once, it hits you. 

You're not a YouTuber—you're not even that good at playing Minecraft, for god's sake. You don't even have a screen. You don't know how to build, or improv, or record or edit videos, or stream, or the millions of other things you'll surely be asked to do. 

At least your setup is probably still somehow better than Ethoslab's. You'll take what comfort you can get. 

Still, point is—you don't know how to do anything, and now you're being asked to join what is maybe one of the most popular Minecraft SMPs, one you've absolutely adored for years of your life. 

It sounds like a dream come true. 

It feels a bit like a death sentence. 

Sighing, you run your hands down your face. You'll have to make a decision, you know, and you'll have to make it in—you look at the top right corner of your screen—1 minute, you've wasted 4 precious minutes of your time wallowing in your panic. And now you have to give a reply and fast, or else you'll keep everyone waiting and—

You pause. You think of all the build-up to this season. You think of the hermits having to announce that oh, you thought there was going to be two new hermits? Well sike, one of them turned out to be too much of a little bitch to join. You think of the disappointment, the backlash they'll surely face. 

You download all the required mods and texture packs. 

You copy the server IP. 

You paste it into the box. 

You click "Join Server".

All at once, your headphones erupt in a cacophony of noise. Everyone's already there, it seems, and they're all very excited to see you. You don't know how any of these people know who you are, but their voices overlay each other as they greet you, and you let yourself get caught up in it all. 

It's nice. Beyond the near-paralysing panic, you have to admit that it feels a bit like coming home. 

You look over to your side and almost have your second anxiety attack of the day. Skizzleman is standing right there—and oh, your friends are gonna go insane—you're going insane—

You unmute yourself and manage to squeak out a hello. It's enough, and you find yourself almost blending in as all the other hermits make the necessary introductions. It feels natural. It feels like you. 

You miss a few important details, to be sure, but you get the gist of it as everyone begins to disperse to punch wood. This is real. This is real. You're actually here, you're on Hermitcraft—

"Hey," Skizzleman's voice appears behind you. You scramble to turn around. "We can do this, yeah?" he says. "You're new, I'm new—now I don't know about you, but I'm here to have fun."

It takes you a second to remember that you're supposed to reply. 

"Yeah, I—yeah."

It's still the squeaky voice from before. Fingers still trembling too much to press the keys, you mute yourself and take a deep breath.

This has to be the scariest day of your life. 

You can do this.

self insert fanfiction/stress nightmare of y/n being asked to join hermitcraft season 10 last minute . you dont know how to build. or improv. or record or edit videos. or stream. and right by your side is skizzleman,

[marvelousstevetony]

If you’re still taking prompts can you do “mission in the rain” for stony with sick steve?

I’m going to apologize in advance, anon, for being so late to answer this, and also for how... not great this is. Tbh, this is a mess, but I’ll post it anyway🥲

Thank you for the prompt, though! Hopefully I’ll get back into the flow of writing soon!

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

“See this,” Tony starts, “this is why I don’t trust Fury.” He’s stomping the ground like a petulant child, arms folded over his chest even though he’s wearing the armour, illustrating just how sulky he is. In addition, the glare he’s sporting almost makes Clint’s arrows seem harmless, and Steve can hear the sharpness in his voice, even over the loud drumming of the rain.

“Tony—“

“I mean,” Steve is interrupted before he has to say anything else, “this was supposed to be easy. Get in quickly, then get the hell out even faster.”

Steve sighs. It’s not like he’s disagreeing with Tony, no, quite the opposite actually. But moping never does any good, so Steve takes a deep breath and continues walking.

Tony is right, though, he thinks. Although Fury hadn’t presented them with a lot of details about the Hydra facility, he had told them that it had recently been abandoned and that all they’d have to do was look it over and hopefully gather information about their new base.

Turns out it wasn’t abandoned, and as soon Tony and Steve had entered the building, they’d been ambushed. Tony had already started cursing Fury when he took out the first Hydra agent, and though none of the agents were particular great fighters (compared to Iron Man and Captain America), there’d been a lot of them.

They’d taken all of them out, but definitely not as easily as if there’d been more than the two of them. ‘That won’t be necessary,’ Fury had said. He might’ve changed his mind if he had known Tony would leave the facility with a malfunctioning armour and no way for them to get away. The car they’d driven there in had been blown up pretty quickly, just like the rest of all the vehicles.

As soon as they’d finished the group of assassins off they’d contacted Fury and the team, but they were a few hours out. The Hydra agents had called for reinforcement when they realized they were losing, but the two Avengers had escaped before a new lineup showed up. There’s no chance of going back, though, and with no other choice, they’d set off on foot.

And that’s how the two of them ended up in the middle of nowhere during one of the worst rainstorms Steve can recall since waking up in the 21st century.

Tony huffs exasperatedly, and steps in a puddle with great force so it splashes.

“They’ll b-be here s-soon,” Steve says, teeth clattering. He’s trying to stay optimistic, but it’s hard, especially with the severe pounding in his head and the full-body chills.

“Yeah, right,” Tony grumbles. “They probably stopped for donuts on their way… Are you cold?” He asks when Steve shivers violently next to him.

“N-no,” Steve replies, but even to him, it sounds unbelievable.

Tony snorts, but he’s tired and his body is achy all over. He doesn’t have the energy to call Steve out on his shit this time, so they continue walking in silence, the only sounds coming from the heavy rain, Steve’s teeth rattling and Tony’s puffs of air from keeping up with Steve’s pace.

At some point, they reach a road on the edge of a forest where Tony’s almost certain that Hydra wouldn’t find them. He just wants to sit down, if only for a few minutes. The suit’s not too heavy, but it’s broken and there’s nothing to lighten the weight, so after walking for miles, Tony could use a break.

From the looks of it, Steve could too. His posture is sloppy, shoulders hunched forward, head ducking low as if to avoid the rain hitting him in the face.

Coming to think of it, Tony’s happy for the suit, despite the slightly increased weight. Although he isn’t wearing the helmet, it keeps his body dry, and that… that can’t be said about Steve’s uniform. The red, white, and blue suit is drenched all the way through. The colors are darker than normal, and it clung even tighter to Steve than it usually does. Tony wonders why it isn’t waterproof, or at least somewhat water-resistant. On the other hand, maybe it is and is simply not able to compete with the tempestuous downpour.

“Don’t you think it’s time for break?” Tony asks, and Steve casts him a questioning glance. “Hydra wouldn’t find us in there,” Tony says and nods at the forest.

Steve looks like he might just argue and say that they should just continue walking. But then he eyes the woodland and sighs. “You’re r-right,” he stammers. “I g-guess there’s n-no real reason to k-keep walking. They’ll f-find us s-soon.”

They settle beneath a tree with large leaves, somewhat shielding them from the rain. Not that it really matters, Steve’s soaked anyway.

They both let out a relieved noise when they slump back against the trunk of the tree, and Steve takes off his cowl, revealing a blond mop of hair that’s just as wet as the rest of him.

They catch their breath for a few minutes, and Tony’s almost starting to relax a bit. Next to him though, Steve’s entire body shudders. He curls into a ball, hugging his knees close to his chest, jaw visibly shaking.

“You can’t seriously tell me you’re not freezing, Steve,” Tony says, but it soft and in no way mocking.

“I’m okay,” Steve forces through clenched teeth. “They’ll b-be here snf! s-s-soon.”

Sighing, Tony rests his head back against the tree, letting his eyes slip shut. He could probably fall asleep, had it not been for the raindrops that hits him right on his closed eyelid every once in a while, making him flinch.

Steve, on the other hand, definitely isn’t on the verge of dropping off. When Tony cracks an eye open to look at him, he’s still trembling violently, but now he’s also scrubbing at his nose and eyes, and at one point he’s overtaken by a harsh coughing fit that leaves him gasping for air.

Tony frowns at him with questioning eyes. Steve either doesn’t understand that Tony was trying to wordlessly ask him if he was okay, or else he just doesn’t want to answer, because as soon as he catching a glimpse of Tony’s face, he looks away and leans forward to rest his forehead on his knees.

Tony, who lost all sense of time long ago, doesn’t know how long they sit like that before he hears the reassuring sound of the Quinjet. When they get on board, Fury and Hill are there, alongside Natasha, who greets them with a sympathetic smile that somehow still manages to be very smirk-like.

“Damn, Steve, you look like a drowned rat,” she states, and it’s not like either of them can argue with that; he’s dripping, leaving puddles after him everywhere he goes, and his hair is clinging to his face like a leech. “There’s spare clothes in the back,” she says and throws a thumb over her shoulder. Steve mumbles a quiet thanks as he leaves, his boots making squeaky noises whenever he takes a step.

By now, Tony’s stepped out of the suit, which, despite its broken parts, kept him surprisingly dry. He winces, however, at how much time he’d spent on upgrading it, only for it to be destroyed a couple of days later. Oh well, he thinks then. It’s not like he doesn’t like having an excuse to work in the lab for a few extra hours.

Although he’s not wet, and not particularly cold wither, Nat offers him a blanket, which he wraps around his shoulders. “He’s really quiet today,” she mumbles as she casts a glance over her shoulder.

Tony hums in agreement. “He’s tired. So am I.”

“That’s reasonable, I guess.” Nat offers a small smile, but her face falls, eyebrows twisting into a frown, as soon they hear the sound of Steve’s gravelly, throat-scraping coughs from the back of the Quinjet. “He seems a little more than just tired, though.”

“Probably,” Tony concurs when Steve comes into sight, now clad in a dry pair of sweats and a Stark Industries hoodie. His hair is still drenched, though, and his for all that Steve’s face is concernedly pale, his cheeks are still flushed from the cold. He’s dragging his feet towards them, slowly, with his shoulders hunched, and Tony think that he must be every bit as exhausted as he looks. “You okay?”

Steve draws in a long breath. Tony waits to hear him say that he’s fine, just like he always does, but when all Steve does is sigh heavily, Tony is immediately alarmed.

Even though it’s nearly imperceptible, Tony does notice, of course he does, that Steve is swaying slightly as he takes the final steps towards them. Ocean blue eyes are unfocused when Tony searches for them with his own, looking glazed over and weary.

Natasha moves nervously when Steve still hasn’t answered and shoots Tony a look. “Steve?” she prompts, and Steve snaps his head to the side to looks at her, but he instantly squeezes his eyes shut as his breath catches.

“Okay,” Tony says, getting to his feet. “You should sit down.” Placing his hands on Steve’s elbows, he guides the blonde to a seat and sits down in the one next to him. Natasha is quickly at his other side and rests a delicate hand of his shoulder.

“So… definitely not okay,” she concludes.

“Sorry,” Steve murmurs, jaw tight. “I-I don’t… I just got dizzy for a minute there. I’m sorry, I think I’m okay now.” Despite saying that he’s okay, his voice is distant, and he still hasn’t opened his eyes.

Tony can feel the tension in his body as he put a hand on Steve’s back, and just moments later, he senses the way Steve is trembling. “Shit, Steve, you’re shaking!” Tony gasps, and if to prove him right, Steve gives a full-body shudder.

Natasha cups the super-soldier’s face and grimaces as she touches the scalding cheeks. “He’s burning up,” she announces, directing the words at Tony, who is now also cradling Steve’s face.

The difference in temperature must feel heavenly to Steve, because he melts into the touch and lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a sigh and a moan.

“Damn,” Tony mutters under his breath. “Guy’s hotter than the sun, in more than one way.” Natasha rolls her eyes, and Tony smirks slightly at her dismay. “Jarvis, give me a rundown of Cap here, please.”

“Certainly, sir,” comes the British accent. “Captain Rogers is currently running a temperature of 103.7 and climbing. Additionally, I detect an inflammation of the respiratory passages. Although I am not programmed to be medically enlightened, I believe Captain Rogers is showing symptoms of influenza.”

“We need to get his fever down,” Natasha says and Tony gives a stiff nod. “I doubt we have anything on the jet that’ll help, but I’ll get him some water.”

Tony nods again, then sighs when he turns back to Steve who is still pressing in face into Tony’s palm, eyes closed and mouth hanging slightly open. He’s also still shaking like a leaf, huddled in on himself with his knees hugged tightly to his chest.

“Steve?” Tony says softly, brushing his thumb over a cut on Steve’s cheek. He gets no response. “Steve, you with me?” He tries again.

Steve opens his eyes slowly and looks at Tony. His are glassy, face is pinched in discomfort, and he looks like he needs about forty-eight hours of sleeps, but at least he isn’t unconscious, Tony thinks.

“Hey, sunshine” the brunette whispers and forces a smile, smoothing a hand over Steve’s hair.

Steve must detect the worry, because he suddenly looks so sad and, in a way, guilty. “I’m sorry,” he croaks. “I’m… I—"

“Shhh… Don’t be sorry, honey. We’re home soon, okay? Then we’ll get you feeling better.”

Steve is looking directly at him with a confused expression, like he didn’t hear a word Tony just said, when Natasha reappears behind Tony with a bottle in her hand.

“How is he?” She asks, sitting down and unscrewing the cap as she holds out the bottle for Steve to take. He eyes it for a couple of seconds, then accepts it with sluggish, shaky movements and brings it to his dry, cracked lips.

“He’s completely out of it,” Tony sighs, and when Steve doesn’t object, Tony figures it’s as much of a confirmation as he’s gonna get.

Natasha, who is known to be the most stoic Avenger, is now decidedly worried. Her mouth is a straight line, and the crease between her brows is deeper than Tony has ever seen it. “Steve,” she says softly. When he lifts his head slightly, she gives him a small smile and brushes a stray strand of hair away from his forehead. “Hey there, soldier.”

Steve’s lips curl just enough to make the weak smile visible. “Hey… I’m—“ Suddenly, Steve is taken over by a harsh, throat-scraping coughing fit that leaves him gasping for air and clutching his chest. “Sorry.”

Tony rubs a comforting hand up and down Steve’s spine as he regains composure. Natasha just shakes her head at him and says, “It’s okay… How long have you been feeling like this?”

“I… I’m not sure. Not long,” he adds when both Natasha and Tony sigh. “I snf! I was fine during the m-mission, but then it just hit me all at once.”

“Definitely the flu, then,” Natasha confirms. “I guess you’re on super-sick-super-soldier duty tonight, Stark.”

“Yeah, I think this one is in desperate need of some TLC,” Tony says, shuffling closer to Steve to let him rest his head against his shoulder. Steve settles in close, his warm breath tickling on Tony’s neck as he lets out a tired yet please sigh. His eyes have slipped shut again, and his body is slowly going slack against Tony’s, melting into the caring hold. “I don’t mind, though,” he mumbles into Steve’s damp hair and places a gentle kiss in there, too.

Natasha smiles fondly at them; cuddled up in the small seats, Steve’s larger body curled into a ball with all his weight against Tony. “I’ll handle debrief,” she says, and Tony’s expression softens immediately with gratitude. “You focus on getting that one,” she looks at Steve, “back to full health.”

“I’ll get him feeling better,” Tony assures her, looks down at Steve whose breath has evened out, and smiles warmly as he kisses Steve’s temple.

[theskywaslookingback]

Abrupt

CW: This fic involves a fairly detailed description of Jon having a panic attack.

It’s late afternoon. The bedroom window is up, letting in the cooling breeze as summer dies into fall. The sun slants inside, throwing the room into a myriad of golden hues and soft reds. Jon has himself tucked against Martin’s side, swaddled in one of Gerry’s long sleeve shirts, head resting on Martin’s chest where he can close his eyes and focus on his heart beating slow and steady.

“Ah-“ Martin inhales sharply and Jon blinks up at him sleepily. “Damn, okay, new plan.”

“Hm?”

“Hm?” Martin takes his eyes off of his Switch, looking down at where Jon has plastered himself against his side. “Oh, nothing. Just keep getting killed by this Guardian.”

“Let me see.”

Martin obediently shifts his arms so Jon is more fully enveloped and he doesn’t have to strain his neck to watch. Martin’s fingers fly over the buttons with determination. Enough so that when he’s killed again Jon feels a little bad.

“You’re not sneaking enough.” Jon says.

“Mm.” Martin agrees.

Jon’s eyes drift closed after a while, still listening to the music and sharp little ‘hyah!’s coming from the screen. He lets his hand drift over Martin’s chest, occasionally scrunching at the fabric of his shirt and then smoothing it back down again. He barely twitches when Martin makes a triumphant sound, but his lips curve up into a smile on their own accord.

It’s so rare for them to have time off like this, and Jon almost feels guilty he’s not working on a lesson plan or grading tests because he knows he has work he could be getting done. Almost feels guilty, but not quite. It’s hard to feel anything other than joy when Martin takes a hand from his console to run it through Jon’s hair and squeeze his shoulder. Harder still to feel anything but love and wonderment at the lips that press themselves to his forehead, sweet and sure.

“Are you tired?” Martin asks.

Jon hums noncommittally. His insomnia is a fickle thing and he’s never sure when or if he might get any real rest. He feels good right now, though. He feels like he might drop off at any second, though whether or not that’s actually true remains to be seen.

Martin shifts just a little, reaching over to the nightstand, and then his arms are back around Jon. Martin’s hand cups the side of his face hesitantly, and then moves down to his jaw to tilt his head up a little. Jon makes a small noise of surprise when he feels warm, wet lips cover his own but then he leans into it.

Martin’s hands feel like they’re everywhere at once, holding him together and taking him apart. A tongue probes at his bottom lip and Jon feels a spike of revulsion hit the bottom of his stomach so rapidly he has to pull back with a gasp. “No.” He says. He means for it to come out firm, but the word shakes harder than his hands.

Martin sucks in a sharp breath. “Jon, I— I am so sorry—“

“Stop. Just...give me a minute.”

Martin falls still and silent beneath him. Jon sits up, extracting himself from Martin’s grip, rubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand roughly. It doesn’t make the sick feeling in his chest go away, but it’s easier to focus on cleaning himself up than looking at the sad look he knows Martin is giving him. He starts picking at his shirt sleeve, lips tingly and raw where he’s rubbed them too hard. He tries the breathing thing his therapist had wanted him to try; in seven, out eleven. It’s rubbish, he thinks, but it’s nice to have something else to focus on for a moment.

They’ll have to talk about it. Christ. Jon knows they have to talk about it. But even he doesn’t know, sometimes, until it’s too late. And Martin doesn’t need that. He needs consistency that Jon just can’t give. He—

He’s breathing too quickly again, and he digs his fingers into his arms, doubling over.

“Jon,” Martin says softly, “Jon, you’re okay.”

Jon half expects to feel Martin’s hands on him again, heavy and calloused and warm, but he doesn’t. Jon chokes on a breath, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Jon, I need to know what you need.”

“I don’t know.” Jon grits out.

“Jon—“

“I don’t know. I don’t know!” Jon shouts. His hands find purchase in his own hair and he pulls, gasping at the pain.

“Okay!” Martin tries, his voice gone high and squeaky with concern. “Okay, that’s fine. Do you want me to leave?”

Jon nods, and then shakes his head vehemently. “No. No, don’t— don’t leave me alone.”

“Then I won’t.” Martin says firmly. “I’ll stay right here. Do you— do you want me to stop talking?”

Jon swallows hard and it feels like he’s swallowing his own tongue. He feels dizzy, and heavy. “Yes,” he says, “no.”

“Okay,” Martin says, a little softer, “okay.”

It feels like forever before he can unwind his hands from his hair, and even longer before he can uncurl enough to look at Martin. Martin’s eyes are red rimmed and glassy, like he’s been holding back tears, and that’s almost enough to send him spiraling back down again. Instead Martin just offers him his hand, palm up, and Jon uses it to crawl into Martin’s lap.

Martin’s hands are hesitant to hold him. Jon makes a truly pathetic noise, his arms tight around Martin’s throat and head up under his chin. Martin breathes out, low and slow, and cradles the back of his head.

“There we go.” Martin whispers. “I’ve got you, Jon. You’re safe.”

He is. God, he really is. Jon finally gets his breathing back under control, his chest moving in time with Martin’s deep breaths in and out. He feels like an ass, and opens his mouth to say as much but nothing comes out save for a broken off sob.

“That’s alright, love, it’s alright.” Martin’s fingers scratch gently at his scalp, his other hand smoothing over the bumps of his spine. Jon’s hand shoots back and wraps around Martin’s wrist, ignoring Martin’s sound of alarm and shoving Martin’s hand under the back of his shirt. “Are you— okay.” Martin picks back up with the gentle stroking, and now Jon can feel the rough worn calluses on his palm and fingers and it’s better. It feels better.

“Thank you.” Jon whispers.

Martin squeezes Jon just a little tighter.

When Jon finally speaks again his voice feels rough and jagged, like speaking through chewed glass. “I don’t— I don’t know what happened.”

“That’s okay.”

“That’s not—“ Jon pulls back, making a frustrated noise, his hands moving to clasp Martin’s cheeks, “You deserve someone whose desires are consistent, Martin.”

“Jon, no person’s desires are consistent from day to day. You’re always allowed to change your mind.”

“But even I don’t always know,” Jon says thickly, “that’s— you’ll get tired of it. Or Gerry will. And I’ll be—“

“Stop that.” Martin says, but it doesn’t feel like an admonishment. Like everything about Martin it sounds kind and measured. “You are so, so hard on yourself, you know that?”

Jon knows. “Yes.”

“Love is not easy,” Martin says, “especially for people like us. We’ve had to work for this, all three of us, every day of our lives. I’m not going to get tired of you. I’m not going to be upset if boundaries change. I’m just going to learn the new rules, over and over, as many times as are needed.” Martin drops down to press their foreheads together and Jon feels his eyes close involuntarily. “I love you. I choose to love you, and I will continue choosing to love you every day for the rest of my life. Okay?”

“Okay.” Jon says, because he so deeply wants that to be true. And maybe if he says it enough, it can be. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Martin says again, fingers digging into his back. “I love you.”

Jon buries his face back into Martin’s shoulder and for the longest time just lets himself be held.

[imjeralee]

Comfort in Despair: Chapter 5 - Life as a Researcher

Leon x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Summary:

Galar is rich in folklore and tales of the supernatural.

As a Pokemon Researcher who specialises in ghost types, this is a great opportunity for you to investigate and learn more about the paranormal.

Along the way, you meet Leon (in the most awkward way possible) who becomes embroiled in your adventures.

^ Basically this story is about ghosts :/

Rating: General/Teen

Note: This is an accurate picture of me when I was writing this particular chapter

Warnings: Don’t read this fic at night

Life as a Researcher

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[The coldest recorded body temperature a person has ever survived is 56.7 degrees F (13.2 degrees C)]

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...

You're on your way to Wedgehurst with a small group of five middle-aged ladies who have followed you to the train station and into the carriage. Gengar doesn't appear to particularly enjoy coming out during day nor does he like to be around crowds so he decides to stay hidden in your shadow.

You've become a Pied Piper of Hamelin of some sort as the women trail after you eagerly and you take up one entire row. You sit in the middle, flanked by two housewives and three standing in front of you. They are friendly enough but they fire questions about you, your profession and how you can help them.

You answer them to your best ability and the most they get out of you is that you're a qualified Researcher. You're not officially aligned with the police but you know the Chief Inspector, Chris Graves.

They ask you how you know him and you're reluctant to tell them everything so all you say is that you have crossed paths with Graves when you were back in Kalos and now he has transferred to Galar for his work and voila, you have a contact in the force who can help you should you ever get wrapped up in cases such as these.

Usually it's the other way round, though.

You have worked with the police before and although they're under the impression that you're kooky and your methods are unorthodox, Graves doesn't mind if you step in at any point though he occasionally warns you that there are fine lines not to be crossed.

You tell the women that three people have also disappeared near the Giant's Seat.

You didn't realise there were more until today.

If you didn't pass Wyndon police station, you wouldn't have known.

The total of missing people is now eight. The first missing person is a gym challenger called Maisy who has been missing for three months. The second is a gym challenger called James, missing for one month and the third is another male gym challenger. No bodies have been found.

When the train slowly chugs into Wedgehurst, you leave the station and plough down the path with the ladies following you, avoiding the Wooloos that litter the streets. The townsfolk, intimidated by your large group, automatically make way for you. You meander towards your house and once you're at the door, it's unlocked and you enter to see Sonia and Magnolia seated down in the kitchen, fixing breakfast for themselves.

Upon your return, Sonia and Magnolia rise from their chairs and Cutiefly and Polteageist are ecstatic to see you, zooming towards your direction. Cutiefly burrows itself into your hair and Polteageist hugs your head whilst Sonia envelopes you in a warm and tight embrace, followed by Magnolia. Every morning, they do this whenever you return home. You believe they are deathly afraid that one day, you will not return.

However, once they spot the crowd outside waiting to enter the establishment, the sight forces their jaws to drop.

Magnolia and Sonia are stunned to see their home suddenly filled with so many people so you quickly explain that they are your new clients and you ask Magnolia for permission, hoping she doesn't mind that you have brought so many random people to her home. She informs you she is fine with this as long as you keep the noise to a minimum and avoid using the fine china.

You promise and remove your coat, kick your boots off and carefully drop your bags and Leon poster on the ground.

And you are so tired that you could fall asleep right here and now because you've pulled an all-nighter but you need to hear the ladies out.

Magnolia leaves you to it and departs for the research lab so you are on your own. You guide the group to the conservatory where you hold most client meetings and let the ladies sit whilst you stand to write notes. You ask if anyone wants some tea and everyone lift their hands up. Polteageist turns away with his arms crossed, refusing to make tea for them. He doesn't like serving tea to strangers anyway.

Luckily for you, Sonia steps in to assist and comes waltzing in with a tray of cookies and hot beverages after a few minutes, with little Yamper balancing a small tray of his own over his head. The ladies coo and fawn over the puppy pokemon.

You're exhausted, eyelids drooping, but you fight hard to stay awake and listen to everyone's testimony, one by one. Normally you would've preferred a one to one session but group sessions work too.

You flip open your journal to take down notes, asking for the date of the disappearance, time, location and any other crucial information and detail no matter how small. You also ask them if the missing sons have been acting strange prior their disappearance but all the answers are no. They also tell you the missing Rotom phones have also mysteriously disappeared and the GPS doesn't show where they are.

Occasionally, the women lose track to discuss amongst themselves and so you have to snap them out of it and focus on providing accurate testimony.

Eventually, you finish after three or four hours and you're really struggling to stay awake.

Please bring my son back alive, that's what they say before they leave and you promise that you would find them alive.

Sonia escorts the women out and returns to the conservatory only to see that you have fallen asleep, sprawled over the sofa with your journal lying open on your lap. She smiles and grabs a blanket from the cupboard which she uses for occasions like these and drapes it over you. Yamper barks but she puts a finger to her lips and they quietly leave the conservatory.

Hours later, you wake up with a start only to discover that it is now nine o'clock.

Rubbing your eyes, you look around; the curtains of the conservatory are drawn and it's eerily silent. You sit up and the journal threatens to fall off your lap but you quickly grab it before it drops to the floor. Stretching, you peel the blanket off you, glance around the empty conservatory before you emit an impossibly loud groan. Cutiefly and Polteageist are in the room and when you get up, they head over to your side.

"Hey guys," you mutter groggily, as they look up at you before quickly nuzzling your cheeks affectionately. "Arceus, I'm so tired...I'm gonna take a shower..."

Suddenly, Gengar appears from your shadow and Cutie and Poltea both look alarmed at your new companion.

You quickly introduce your pokemon to Gengar and your pokemon curiously float over to inspect the shadow pokemon. Cutiefly leaves the sanctity of your hair after a few minutes of reassurance and circles Gengar for a while before returning to sit on your shoulder. Poltea inches closer to Gengar and it appears they are communicating. You watch as the two ghosts make brief exchange before Gengar looks at you with a sad expression.

You ask Polteageist if he has just told Gengar about Rosie and he nods and returns to your side, choosing to hug your head whilst Gengar looks at you sympathetically.

You tell Gengar that if he can help in any way, it would be greatly appreciated and that you would love to study him but you have a new case to work on so maybe another time.

Yawning, you slide off the couch, head for the stairs whilst the Pokemon stay downstairs and you enter the bathroom to shower, peeling off your clothes and dropping them into the laundry basket to be washed later. As you shower and wash your hair, you briefly think about Leon, thinking about his soulful eyes and long eyelashes, and you wonder what he may be doing right now. He must be training in the Wild Area somewhere. You didn't even check if you had received any messages from him.

When you're squeaky clean, you return to your room to get dressed and you see that Sonia has put your bag and all your Leon merchandise next to your bed; you pick the poster up and unfurl it.

Leon's grinning face appears and you let your eyes wander over his form with a smile and Gengar manifests from your shadow on the wall; he floats in the air and circles Leon's poster then points to him.

"Yeah, that's the guy who was with us back in your house. He's the Champion of Galar."

Gengar grins and points to you then at Leon once more, puts his hands where his hips should be and wiggles his hips back and forth, smacks his mouth, imitating and making kissing noises in the air.

"Oh, shush," you say with a smile, "It'll never happen. He's got plenty of girls pining after him anyway."

As you roll the poster properly and let it stand beside your desk, the sound of the bedroom door opening captures your attention and you throw a glance over your shoulder to see Sonia hopping into the room. "Hey, you're - Ah! What's a Gengar doing here?"

"Hey Sonnie," you say, "He's my new partner pokemon. He's from the haunted mansion and he wants to help me."

"Oh, that's lovely," Sonia replies with a smile, and you watch as they both greet each other briefly before Gengar drifts out of your window and towards the roof. Sonia moves to sit on the edge of her bed leisurely, crossing one leg over the other and casually gestures to your bag with the boxed Leon action figurine. "By the way, why did you buy so much Leon merchandise all of a sudden?"

"I met him last night, Sonnie."

Shocked, she sits up properly, leaning forwards in her seat, "You did? That's amazing! He was really keen to meet you but you were always asleep during the day. I'm so glad that you've finally met!"

You nod, mentally berating yourself that all this time, Leon was wanting to meet you but never got the chance.

"What do you think of him?"

You are too shy to tell her any further details such as Leon holding you and whatnot so your response is a mere half-hearted shrug, "He's really nice."

Sonia cheerfully twirls a strand of curly hair between her fingers, "We don't talk much since he became Champion and he's really busy nowadays, but before all that, he used to always come over to the house."

"Oh."

"Your haunted house client called earlier too. He said he'll pop by tomorrow at eight pm if that's okay."

"Yes, that's brilliant. Thanks, Sonnie."

"No problem! How did it go anyway?"

"It was fine," you reply, before you proceed to explain, bringing her up to speed about the events of the haunted house and the conclusion though you omit the details revolving you and Leon; you do not tell her that you stayed with Leon for the rest of the night and the majority of the morning.

You ask her how her day was but she says she helped Magnolia in the lab for the entire day. With a sigh, she wonders when her big break will be.

"And what's this new case you're working on?" she asks next. She's moved to sprawl over her bed on her stomach, looking at her phone.

"Missing people."

There is a brief silence and Sonia slowly puts down her phone, turning to you with an expression of worry. "Ah...I understand, are you sure about this one?"

"Yeah, I am. And I better get a move on. So little time, so much to do."

"Why don't you take a break for the time being?"

"Can't. I need to do this. The police are working on it but it wouldn't hurt if I try to help too."

She lets out a heavy sigh, shaking her head helplessly whilst you muster a weak smile at her and leave the bedroom. She tells you there is dinner left for you in the fridge.

Magnolia appears to be asleep as you tiptoe past her room. You haven't spent enough time talking to Magnolia because your schedules don't match. You're asleep during the day and she goes to sleep at nine, or on some random occasions, seven or eight if she's extremely tired. You both conveniently miss each other a lot.

You spot Yamper chewing on a poketoy near the stairs and as you pass him, you stroke his head and ears and he emits a cheerful bark.

Driven by hunger, you head into the kitchen, grab the leftovers from the fridge and heat them up in the microwave. It's leftover pie, veggies and mash and whilst it's cooking, you brew yourself a cup of Komala coffee for that extra oomph because you believe it'll be another long night. Once the food is ready, you sink into the sofa in the lounge with your late dinner and journal.

The food is piping hot so you balance the plate over the empty seat beside you and check your phone absent-mindedly, checking for any updates. Your blog's latest entry has been quite popular and you're relieved to see that positive comments has overtaken the troll comment left behind by the anonymous user.

However, you haven't received any texts from Leon since you replied to his message this morning.

Your face falls.

You were hoping you would've received at least one reply. Maybe a short message asking to see what else you were up to or maybe something as simple as a 'okay' would've sufficed. To make matters worse, your reply is marked as 'read'.

You try not to think too much about it. Instead, you think about your next plan of action.

Wracked with physical exhaustion, you've not had enough sleep nor have you had sufficient time to think or work out your next plan of action but you can't afford to sit around and do nothing. Peeling yourself off the sofa, you lay out your notes over the couch, picking up your plate of food and munching on some pie before you take a sip of your coffee.

Your Pokemon arrive to see what you're up to and everyone looks at your notes. Your messy handwriting, random arrows, prompt and other small blurbs circled in pen dominate the papers.

The coffee is working its magic in your system and you discover that the lounge isn't a suitable place to gather your thoughts and conduct research, so you quickly finish your meal and collect your notes together once more. You hastily rush to the door to put on your new coat and sink your feet into your worn boots.

Leaving the house with your pokemon, you balance your notes in your arms and you're still holding your mug of coffee for some reason which you didn't realise but no matter, you make your way to the Pokemon Research Lab as quickly as possible.

You fumble with your set of keys once you arrive and when you have unlocked it, you push it open with your back since your arms are full and head inside, pressing on the light-switch using your elbow.

The lights slowly flicker on one at a time, with one light in particular fluttering limply in the corner. The lab is closed at night but Magnolia has granted you permission to peruse it despite being after hours.

Outside, the sounds of raindrops battering the side of the building makes its presence known and you breathe a sigh of relief, knowing if you had left it a second later, you would've been caught in the rain.

You breeze past the seating area and the bookshelves whilst your pokemon linger near Magnolia's work desk which is chock full of documents and pokemon books. A small desk in the corner near the stairs is your destination and you put your coffee and notes down on the surface before you rearrange them in chronological order.

This is your workspace.

Although it's small, it serves it's purpose well and it's currently and unfortunately covered in a thin layer of dust since you hardly had time to carry out desk-based work most of the time.

Your whiteboard stands next to a large potted plant and you grab the handle, slowly easing it out. It is covered with plenty of sticky notes and random photos of ghost Pokemon and symbols. Gengar watches as you flip it to the other side to reveal a detailed map of the Wild Area stuck down with magnets.

It is accompanied with three photos, one of a young girl and two young boys underlined with 'Missing Person #1: Maisy', 'Missing Person #2: James' and 'Missing Person #3 Ed' and a brief outline of the circumstances of their disappearance in short bullet points.

Gengar, Cutiefly and Polteageist watch as you stand in front of the board and grab a black washable marker from the stationary tub, pulling off the lid.

It's time to start and the coffee is kicking in.

"Let's update our board," you say aloud, and you're awfully jittery so you grab your wooden paddleball from your cupboard that comes with a red ball on a string and begin whacking the ball repeatedly over the wood at the same time, "There are now a total of eight missing individuals. Let's start with the new missing folk."

You take the league card of a boy called 'Scottie' from your pile of notes and stick it on the space beside 'Ed', using a magnet to keep it pinned on the board.

"...Missing person four, Scottie: sixteen years old. Gym challenger. Last seen by a Watt Trader at night near the Giant's Seat...Watt Trader said the boy appeared to be running away from something. Mr Watt Trader assumed it was a wild pokemon and didn't come forward immediately. Missing for eight days."

You hastily scribble bullet points on the whiteboard.

"Missing person number five, Frank. Gym challenger, twenty one years old. Last seen wandering the Giant's Seat at night by a group of female travellers, asking to accompany them because he said he was being followed for the past few days. He didn't tell them who or what it was. Appeared to have seen something or someone behind the group and proceeded to run off. Has not been seen since and has been missing for five days."

You stick Frank's league card beside Scottie's.

"Missing person number six, Simon. Gym challenger, twenty years old. No witnesses, but a pokemon breeder found his intact backpack and the rest of his belongings at an empty campsite near the Giant's Seat."

Gengar, Cutie and Poltea watch as you stick Simon's card on the board next.

"Missing person number seven, Ben. Gym challenger, eighteen years old. Last seen camping on the outskirts of the Giant's Seat with his girlfriend. They fell asleep together in the tent. When his girlfriend woke up the next day, the tent was open and he was missing and he hasn't been seen since. His belongings were left intact. Missing for four days."

You're onto the recent victim now.

"Missing person eight. Owen. Gym challenger, twenty. An eyewitness saw him talking to a girl with blue hair in a white dress, possibly a friend or girlfriend. Missing for two days."

You finish sticking up the league cards and photos of the missing individuals. Using the notes provided, you also use red pins to stick on the map. You realise all the pins are scattered randomly around the Giant's Seat area. Once you are finished, you take a step backwards to inspect the whiteboard.

The whiteboard is running out of space.

"What's the connection?" you mutter as you begin pacing up and down with your paddleball. The pokemon watch you keenly as you grab your coffee, taking numerous sips, "Let's summarise briefly."

You turn to Cutiefly, Polteageist and Gengar and they stare at you expectantly.

"All victims are male except one. They're all gym challengers. They're between the ages sixteen to twenty one. Some of them appeared frightened. Some of them even left behind all their possessions. Their Rotom phones have not been found and their GPS location disappeared. They also disappeared at night."

You eventually decide that the way several victims disappeared sounds fishy.

"A guy goes missing from his campsite, leaving his belongings behind. A guy with his girlfriend goes missing from their camp during the night but leaves his stuff behind. And another victim was seen talking to a girl with blue hair in a white dress."

You tilt your head to the side and rub your temples again.

"What pokemon are known to reside in the Giant's Seat? Stufful, Bronzor, Lombre, Machoke, Machop, Nuzleaf...Wooper, Palpitoad, Snover, Snorunt, Munna, Duskull, Electrike, Ghastly, Natu, Mudbray, Growlithe, Vulpix. None of these pokemon should be capable of kidnapping humans or attacking humans, nor do they have any reason to."

You frown and grunt under your breath.

"I need to make a phonecall," you mutter, before you move to your desk, pull your seat out and plop yourself down.

You call Wyndon Police Department, asking for Chief Inspector Chris Graves. You get through after clearing some security measures and stating your identity and occupation. Luckily, Graves is still in the office. Though he's reluctant to give you too much information, you ask him about the testimony and everything checks out: the witnesses, the travellers, the girlfriend, the Watt Trader, the Pokemon breeder.

The only individual the police can't locate or identify is the girl in the white dress with blue hair. No-one has come forth with any information on this.

You also ask about the weather when the people went missing. So far, it's random...ranging from clear skies, rain, thunder and lightning. Then you ask about Maisy, the first missing victim, and what the weather was like when she went missing. It was a snowstorm, apparently.

You thank the Chief and hang up.

This new piece of information seems to have narrowed some things down.

Maisy went missing during a snowstorm and the rest of the victims since her disappearance have been male.

"Could it be...?" you murmur, shooting up in your seat and making a beeline for the board. The unknown girl is actually a big clue. You grab a red marker and circle 'Girl with Blue Hair and White Dress' before you yell, "Rotom!"

Summoned, your phone flies off the desk and into the air, grinning. "Yezzz?"

"Can you get Jace on the line?"

"Zzzure," Rotom replies, before he quickly changes to phone mode and you see he is dialling your friend for you until it gets picked up and the little screen of your phone shows Jace, presumably in his room and working at his desk, tampering on your radio with his Joltik helping him whilst an Eelektross and Heliolisk jump on his bed in the background.

He's wearing a pair of goggles with enlarged lens, blinking at you with magnified eyes, "Hi duckie, what's up?"

"Jace, can you pop over to the lab right now? Bring some of your thermals if you can."

He lifts his goggles up, letting them rest atop his messy hair, "Uh...why? What's going on?"

"It's for an investigation."

"...Oh, uh. Alright, sure, give me thirty minutes to get everything."

You're grateful Jace doesn't ask you too many questions and that he doesn't mind heading over to Wedgehurst at night but then again, he's used to your awkward requests and he's used to being called at random times during the night too.

"Thanks!" you reply, and Jace hangs up.

He arrives in twenty minutes; you wait for him on the plush sofa with your wooden paddleball, repeatedly whacking the ball against the wood until the door to the lab creaks open and you sit up in your seat.

"Geez...The weather is like a Thundurus..." mutters a disgruntled male’s voice.

You look up. "Jace?"

"Hi, chuck," he replies, grinning widely at you as you leap off the sofa to stand. Despite the umbrella, he's partially drenched, his damp blonde hair framing the sides of his face. His Joltik sits on his left shoulder, holding a large leaf over itself.

"Thanks for coming over," you say as he dumps the brolly into the bucket by the door and Joltik discards the leaf it was using as an umbrella.

He greets Poltea and Cutie as they hover over to greet him, giving them affectionate pats on the head whilst you greet Joltik. "No problem. And I got the clothes you wanted. What're you working on?" he asks, handing you a plastic bag which should contain the various thermals you had requested.

"I'm working on the missing person case."

"Can I have a look?"

"Sure." you say, and you both head to the whiteboard and stand side by side.

Jace scrutinises the board whilst you pull out a male's hooded sweater, a heavily insulated technical jacket, a pair of thermal socks and gloves. "So all these young lads are missing. They disappear at night, they're all gym challengers and no bodies have been found?"

"Yep."

"Well, whoever it is that is nabbing them, they like boys."

"That sounded extremely creepy but you're right, and I have a hunch."

"Let's hear it then."

"It's a Froslass."

"A Froslass?"

"Yeah. She's known to kidnap young men and use them as decorations."

"Fuckin' hell!" Jace cries out, "But she lives in snowy mountains, don't she? And she's not native to Galar."

"Yeah, but there's the occasional freak snowstorm in the Wild Area and check this out, the first known person who disappeared in the Giant's Seat is a female and she went missing during a snowstorm. Isn't it weird that no bodies have been found, even though it's been days... a month even? It's because she's kept them frozen in her lair somewhere in the Giant's Seat. It wasn't obvious until I found out there were new victims today and they're all male."

Jace shivers. "...Or maybe it's a serial killer or a crazy cannibalistic family who's kidnapping young men?"

"Or it could be a Froslass."

"Or it could be Macro Cosmos. Someone could be trying to sabotage the gym challenge," Jace says, "They're a powerful company but they can also be awfully dodgy, if you know what I mean. I heard matches are sometimes rigged so they can rake in more cash from the bookies."

"That's a good point but that's awfully risky and why would they want to do that anyway?"

Jace shrugs. "I dunno. You really think it's a Froslass?"

"Yeah."

"If it's a Froslass, why hasn't anyone seen or found one yet? I'm pretty sure someone would've seen one wandering around the Wild Area by now."

You gesture to the words 'Girl with Blue Hair and White Dress'. "Because she can appear under the guise of a young woman. A lost or hurt young woman, maybe. That's how she's been nabbing folk at night."

"What about their Pokemon?"

"She probably froze them too."

Jace makes a weak noise from the back of his throat before he glances at all the photos of the missing people. "Do you think they're dead?"

"...Froslass likes to freeze people and take them to her lair, so...if that didn't kill them on the spot, then Hypothermia will."

"Do you really have to work on this case?" he grimaces loudly and you nod, "I-I don't have a good feeling about this..."

"Even if it isn't Froslass, it doesn't make a difference to my plan."

"Which is what?"

"I'm going to the Giant's Seat. I'm going to pretend to be a boy and I'm going to be bait."

"That is a terrible plan."

"I didn't say it was going to be a good plan."

"Then I'll do it. I'll be the bait."

"There is no way in hell I'm gonna endanger you, Jace."

"I have Joltik to protect me. Isn't that right, little buddy?"

Joltik nods and trills loudly but you shake your head, "Jace, you're mad. What about your job?"

"I'm a Ball Guy for Pete's sake. Not much of a career nor is there much going on there anyway, and it's fine, as long as we finish by the end of the night and we come home before dawn, I'm good."

"Are you...are you serious?"

"Yeah."

"Jace, you are MENTAL!"

He chuckles weakly.

Remembering how Leon should be still in the Wild Area somewhere, you can't help but worry. "I told Leon to stay away from the Giant's Seat, but I'm really worried about him now."

Jace grins and pinches at your cheek. "Oh, does little duckie have a crush on Galar's unbeatable Champion?" he coos with a wide smile.

You swat his hand away. "N-no, I'm just really worried about him, that's all," you check your watch as Jace's grin merely widens. It's almost eleven. "Wherever he is, I hope he's safe and staying away from the Giant's Seat."

...

Meanwhile, somewhere in the Wild Area, Leon sneezes.

Someone must be talking about him, or thinking about him.

That's what his mum told him anyway. She is superstitious and traditional like the majority of people in Galar, and she worries about a lot of things. She's worried that Rose is working him to the bone, she's worried that he isn't eating enough or staying hydrated enough and she's always wanted him to come home more often than he does.

Leon has never had a girlfriend although the attention he receives from girls is simply astronomical and so are the amount of love letters that gets sent to their home on a daily basis. His mum hopes that he will meet a nice girl who he can bring home one day. She does not want her son to end up hurt and taken advantage of.

Leon chuckles, wondering how his mum will react if she finds out that he had in fact camped with a girl all night. No doubt, his mum would be dying to know who this girl is and who her parents are.

He doesn't disclose to his parents that he's already devised a sort of test to determine if a girl is 'the one' or not and it's to do with Charizard. Call him old-fashioned, but the girl must get along with his pokemon and Charizard doesn't let anyone except Leon and Hop ride his back.

Therefore, if Charizard lets a girl ride on his back, he will know she's a special one.

He recalls how you got on quite well with his pokemon and ponders to himself. You're the first girl he's come across in the Wild Area and to be frank, he can't quite get you out of his head.

You've intrigued him.

Earlier on in the day and he received your message and tried to respond but unfortunately he hasn't had any luck getting any reception in the new area he's moved to.

Instead, he focuses in skimming through your blog.

The main page shows a photo of yourself with Gengar and the brief outline you had written of the haunted mansion. It occurs to Leon that he didn't take a photo with you. Maybe next time, he thinks. Leon scrolls through and reads some of your other articles before he comes across the page with your testimonials.

One of the testimonials is from a young man called 'Jace', who wrote that you had helped him when he saw his poor Joltik levitating off the floor and being flung against the wall by an unseen force for three nights in a row. He didn't know who to go to so called the police but they treated him with skepticism and believed it was simply a trick of the eye which prompted Jace to seek further help.

"She was the only one who believed me," Jace wrote, "And yes, it was a ghost. My grandma's ghost who, bless her dearly departed soul, despised my bug pokemon before her untimely passing."

He also states that you are a great listener and demonstrated strong compassion.

Leon reads the other testimonials and finds himself smiling when he sees the positive feedback you have received from random people who have all said the same thing: you are a great listener, empathetic and most importantly, you believed them when no-one else would.

Another person has written: "She knows her shit, don't question her."

Moving on, Leon reads your 'About Me' page.

You're originally from Kalos. You have researched ghost pokemon for five years give or take. You have an innate gift for sensing evil, to see and hear what most cannot. With these, you aim to discover and learn more about the paranormal and supernatural phenomena which most people cannot explain. Ghost pokemon fascinate you because they are living proof that ghosts exist, and they appear to exist in two planes: the spirit world and the world of the living. They can also act as mediums or guides to the afterlife. This is what your research is all about.

Leon reads all this whilst eating his dinner. It's great reading material.

He's had a full day of training with Charizard and now they're camping again, making dinner to fill their hungry stomachs. He remembers that you had warned him not to go near the Giant's Seat so he hasn't wandered around too much but they've decided to camp for the night and he's not quite sure what this location is.

Charizard tastes the soup and decides there's not enough flavour so he nudges Leon's bag open and rifles through, sifting out a little packet of salt. Leon notices immediately and stops his friend.

"Wait, Charizard," Leon says, "This was a gift, remember?"

With the bag of salt in his claw, Charizard rolls his eyes and snorts. It's salt. Salt, for Pidove's sake. And it's the only salt they have. The soup would taste a bit better if they sprinkled a teeny tiny pinch of salt, but Leon takes the packet of salt out his claws and returns it to the bag.

"Let's use some Chesto berries," Leon replies, grabbing some of the little blue berries out instead and Charizard snorts in disagreement since Chesto berries are more likely to make the soup taste blander.

He's about to toss them in when he hears a rather faint and fragile wail of "Help!".

And he promptly looks up.

"What was that?"

Charizard looks up from his bowl. He didn't hear it.

"Help!" the voice cries again.

It sounds quite close.

Leon gets up to stand, placing his bowl down on the ground. "Did you hear that, Charizard? Someone's in trouble!" the Champion immediately leaves camp, attempting to locate the source.

Charizard bumbles after him, not entirely keen in leaving behind the nice and warm, toasty campfire he created.

Leon returns onto the path, trying to pinpoint where the pleas are coming from and he completely passes the faded wooden sign that says 'Giant's Seat: 5 mins' without realising. Charizard follows his friend, using his tail to act as a light and they head closer and closer towards the source of the voice. Leon shivers slightly, realising the temperature has rapidly dropped all of a sudden and the cries for help has dissolved into mournful, female sobbing.

However, up ahead on the path lies a girl with blue hair in a white dress, her bare legs covered in dirt and blood. She also has no shoes.

Leon arrives first and steps forwards; she looks up at him with her light blue, crystal-like eyes. He drops by her side on one knee, throwing a glance to her leg. "Miss, are you okay?"

"Help me, please. I'm cold and alone."

"Can you stand?"

"Help me, please. I'm cold and alone."

Maybe she is traumatised. Leon loops her arm around his shoulder and immediately notices that she is icy to touch. The frigidness of this girl's hand could be mistaken for a corpse. As he hesitates, the girl looks at him curiously before she places her cold hand on his cheek, pulling him closer to her face.

Leon grows uncomfortable at once as she appears to scan his features, "Um...excuse me, miss, what are you-"

Charizard arrives and the girl turns, appearing to have been caught by surprise. Her eyes widen in a split second before she lets out a hysterical shriek, pushes Leon away and sprays him with a gust of icy wind from her mouth. From her hands, a glowing ball of light materialises from thin-air which she flings towards Charizard's direction.

The flame pokemon is unable to avoid and becomes disoriented immediately, having caught the attack head-first.

His vision is swimming and he's seeing spots. Confused, he roars, turning left and right blindly. His brain has decided not to function properly. He hears Leon yelling for him. The sounds of a girl screaming assaults his ears. He doesn't know what to do.

"Charizard, use flamethrower!"

Flamethrower? Okay.

Charizard unleashes a huge barrage of flames towards a dark figure in front of him which he assumes is his target.

Much to his surprise, Charizard yelps when he feels his own flames lashing at his body. Being a fire-type, it doesn't bother him but he has hurt himself in his confusion.

Charizard looks left and right again but where is Leon? Where is his best friend? As the world spins senselessly around him, Charizard flaps his wings and attempts to fly into the air before he abruptly crashes into a tree trunk. He topples over and lands on his back, roaring wildly and his vision and mind gradually clears up, the effect of the Confuse Ray finally wearing off.

Charizard sits up, clutching his aching, pounding head. How long was he confused?

It's still night-time.

He is alone.

Charizard growls and huffs, glancing around the empty woods but he is alone; Leon is nowhere to be seen. He cannot see hair nor hide of his friend anywhere.

What about the girl?

What was she?

A ghost?

He tries his hardest to suss out where Leon may have disappeared off to but to his dismay, he cannot find any footprints, cannot pick up his scent, nothing. He returns to camp but Leon is not present either.

Emitting a bellow of despair, Charizard takes off to the skies as fast as he can. He leaves the Wild Area, remembering the exact spot where the incidence occurred and heads for the closest town which is Wedgehurst. It lies straight up ahead. Maybe he should've gone to find Chairman Rose or maybe even Raihan, but you're actually the first person he thought of and so he perseveres in his journey, hoping it's the right thing to do.

Landing in front of Magnolia's house with a loud 'thump', he marches up and pounds on the door with his curled claw. Charizard is relieved when you open the door; you're the only person who's awake at this hour anyway. Sonia and Magnolia are fast asleep.

"Charizard?" you utter in surprise.

He nods his head and snorts and huffs loudly, hoping you can understand him.

You glance around curiously then say, "Where's Leon?"

The pokemon growls loudly with anger and frustration at himself before he lowers his head with shame and guilt, because he has lost his friend. His eyes begin to grow wet because he is worried and ashamed.

You know something is wrong immediately. "It's alright, calm down. Let's go find him, okay?" you step towards him and pat him on the head affectionately as Charizard continues to bellow with grief and hide his head under his claws, "It's okay."

Charizard whines and looks at you, then nudges his head further under your palm. You rub his leathery horns and give him a gentle rub behind his ears.

"What's wrong?" says a new voice, and Charizard sees a young man with blonde hair appearing behind you.

"Jace, this is Leon's Charizard. Something must've happened to Leon," you reply, before you quickly rush inside the house and re-emerge dressed in the warm, insulted coat, hoodie and gloves, "Let's go, Charizard. Where did you lose Leon? Can you take me there?"

Charizard nods vigorously and bites on your sleeve as you pull your bag over your shoulder, tugging you forwards impatiently, inviting you to climb onto his back.

"I'll go too!" Jace yells, but the moment you climb onto Charizard's awaiting back and he immediately soars into the sky. Jace is left on his own. "...Oh. Maybe not then."

...

[cherryhobis]

see you next year ☆ min yoongi/reader

word count: 1479 ☆ gen rating ☆  ao3 mirror

Hello everybody! I’ve been pretty quiet today as I’ve been steadily chipping away at a birthday gift for the lovely @bloomsuga​! I know it’s a little late, but I hope you like it all the same. Happy birthday, homie!

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

It happens every year.

 Every year, on this exact day, Min Yoongi finds himself in some godforsaken elevator, and in that elevator, he meets you. He’s gotten to know you somewhat, in the time he’s spent with you. You only gave him trivial things at first, like the type of weather you preferred and your favorite color, but eventually he learned that you’ve tried every flavor at Baskin-Robbins and why you’re not allowed to drive your friend’s car anymore.

You told him your stories and he told you his, each time with a bit less detail, if only to see what you’d fill into the blanks he’d left you. You remembered something once. Red. The color of his shirt when he’d snagged the answers to a quiz from his teacher’s desk in middle school. It was a lame story, and Yoongi got caught at the end, but he told you that one for a while because you laughed lightheartedly at his plight and left the exchange with a smile on your face.

He’s on the elevator early today, leaning against the railing with the buttons in arm’s reach. Phone in hand and mask pulled beneath his chin, Yoongi waits patiently for you to arrive in the place you’re both so destined to meet. Or rather, he waits as patiently as he can. You’re not due for another five minutes and he’s already ridden to every floor twice. As it turns out, the novelty of having pressed every button wears off by the third floor, but by the time Yoongi had realized that, he figured he may as well accept his fate.

 It’s 3:30 on the nose when you show up, searching through an open backpack slung awkwardly over your shoulder with your phone hovering above it as a flashlight. You’re sporting that tired-but-not-willing-to-show-it look he’s come to expect from you, though today you’re wearing it exceptionally well in the form of blue jeans and a lightweight hoodie.

And, you’re wearing the button he gave you.

 “Top floor, please,” you say to him as you board, finding whatever it was you were looking for and placing it into a pocket at the front of your bag.

Yoongi looks at you, observing you for just a moment, before pressing the button.

 There’s a round button pinned to your chest, the pearlescent blue shimmering against the pink fabric it rests upon. He notes it’s the same one he gave you a few cycles ago, right down to the teeny bit of sticker residue at the edge that you never bothered getting rid of.

 It’s a few years old now, with faint wear and tear etched into its surface, but it undoubtedly looks brand new to you. It always does.

 “Happy birthday,” he tells you, tapping his chest referentially when you look at him with mild concern. Yoongi remembers not-so-fondly the year when his well wishes had scared you out of your wits—you’d armed yourself with a ballpoint pen and told him you weren’t afraid to use it. The year after that, he said nothing of the sort and bade you a good day, but he left you with a single breadcrumb the year after: the birthday button.

 “Thanks, Yoongi.” You respond, catching him quite off guard. Ice runs through his veins at the sound of his name – when did you start remembering? You’re usually bouncy, or distracted, but now you’re smug, almost, and you know who he is.

 You tilt your head at him, ponytail swaying slightly in its scrunchie. “How long have I known you?”

Correction: you sort of know who he is.

 *

 It takes a bit of convincing that he’s neither crazy nor stalking you, but eventually Yoongi whittles down your encounters into barebones detail that you accept with a steady nod. From what you can remember – and it’s very little – you once tried breaking the loop by leaving your phone with him, but despite your careful assurance that he’d had it tucked away, it somehow reappeared in your pocket once the two of you separated. It was frustrating for both you and him, though your feelings registered as more of a dull throb of forgetfulness than the roaring upset Yoongi had felt.

 “I remember every single time I’ve met you,” he tells you. “It was ridiculously humid one year and you’d spent half the ride up trying to brush it into submission.”

Something about his story feels familiar enough to laugh at – something about not having a hair tie the whole time? – So you do, and the sound makes Yoongi regard you with a measured softness.

 You decide you like how it feels.

 *

 It’s after a hard think that you come up with a solution, excited and childlike as you fish out your phone. “Gimme your number! I’ll call you once I get off and this should all be over, yeah?” hope tints your voice and it’s almost too much for Yoongi to handle.

 “Can’t.” he says, stretching a sudden tension from his muscles. The black of his t-shirt rides up a little as he does, revealing a little sliver of tummy that’s got you biting back a grin. “We’ve tried. It’s like some weird eraser passes over you as soon as you leave this damn thing.” You flick your gaze up to find his eyes trained on you, a knowing smirk at the corner of his lip.

Embarrassment hues your cheeks, but instead of addressing whatever moment the two of you had, you reroute to the dilemma at hand. Your floor’s just a few stops away.

“Question.”

“Answer.”

“Have we ever tried the emergency stop?”

 Yoongi’s smirk morphs into a pensive expression, before finally falling into a surprised little ‘o’. “No,” he says in pure surprise. “No we have not.” Though you laugh, you gesture somewhat impatiently to the elevator panel. You’ve only got so much time.

Quickly, and with probably a little too much force, Yoongi slams his thumb into the emergency stop and steels himself as the elevator whines its way into a slow, squeaky stop. Wincing through the noise, you wonder halfheartedly if one of you is destined to grease the mechanisms, and if the weird time warp is punishment for shirking your duties – a ridiculous notion you find yourself making a mental note of to bring up later.

 “So.” Yoongi says, turning to you. “What now?”

You shrug, slipping your bag off your shoulders and sitting cross-legged on the floor. “We wait. What time do I usually leave?”

 Yoongi joins you on the floor, back against the wall. “Around 3:45. It’s a slow elevator.”

 You check the time with a quick glance at your phone, worrying your lip after. “It’s almost four o’clock. That’s… that’s a good sign, right?”

 Yoongi nods, idly mussing up his hair. “I’d say so. How long you wanna stay in here? My calendar’s all clear for today.” Like it always is.

 “Maybe a couple hours, just to be on the safe side. I wanna remember you for real this time.”

 “Ditto. I mean, I already remember all the stuff you’ve told me, but like. I’d like you to know I exist.”

“I getcha. We should go out after. Grab a bite to eat or somethin’.”

 Yoongi quirks a brow. “You mean like a date?”

“As a matter of fact, Min Yoongi, it’s my birthday,” you say, gesturing dramatically to the button adorning your hoodie. “I’d like to go out and celebrate. But, if your birthday gift for me happens to be a date, I wouldn’t object.”

 The way you’re batting your eyes at him can only be interpreted as humorous, but regardless, Yoongi finds his heart skipping a beat. “Where would you want to go? Hypothetically speaking.”

 You waste no time in responding. “Hypothetically? Home. I just want a big bowl of cereal and a nap. You’re more than welcome to come over and nap with me. I’ve got really cozy blankets.”

 Yoongi pouts a bit, mulling the offer over. He’d never really planned that you’d get this far. “A nap sounds nice. But be warned, I talk in my sleep.”

 “I can handle that.”

 *

 Nervousness keeps you there as six o’clock turns into seven, and as seven blurs into midnight.  You’re tired, and your muscles ache like hell from being in such a confined space, but you will the feeling back into your limbs just long enough to carry you to bed.

It’s a long bus ride home, but Yoongi embarks on the journey with you, and he carries your backpack for you on the short walk to your building.

Inside, you kick off your shoes and direct him to your bedroom, neither of you bothering to shuck off your jeans before you climb into bed.

In the morning, you will see if he’s still there.

 *

 In the morning, you wake up in his arms.

[troubleshipping]

Long list of various Team Rocket headcanons

Recently I had a really nice talk with @masterstarpikachu about Rocketshipping/general Team Rocket stuff, and some of the headcanons that were brought up are just too good not to be shared with the world so I have compiled them into a big post

Warning: Some small nsfw elements at the very beginning of this, please beware if you don’t like that kinda thing! Nothing explicit but like the evil word s*x is mentioned once so shield yo eyes kiddos

Contents of this post include:

- Controversy about the see-through level of Pokéballs - Meowth and the Pokémon shittalking humans behind their backs - Meowth and Jessie tease James about literally everything - Meowth is a supportive friend in the most asshole-y way possible - Jessie actually being nice for once - Food - Hot take but Jessebelle is a yandere - Jessie almost dies but it's okay because the ship happens

Actual list under the cut because this good content here got long

- Starting topic that triggered this entire conversation: - Jessie and James are about to get intimate, but just in that moment - *Pokéball release sound* “WOOOOBBUFFET” - So that raised an important question: - How much exactly are Pokémon able to see out of their Pokéballs? - Because most of the time when they’re called out mid-battle they immediately charge in without hesitating, so it seems like they know what’s been going on - Larvitar was able to see out of its egg shell too which suggests similar things for Pokéballs - Trainers, do not leave your Pokéballs in the same room you do private stuff in

- What if that’s how Meowth finds out Jessie and James are a thing - “Meowth, how did you know? What do you mean Seviper told you?? How did Seviper know???” - “…..oh my god” - Mime Jr was too young to see that - James will never live it down - He’s too ashamed to look his son in the eyes ever again - Probably needs to sit him down to have *the talk* and it’s the most shameful thing he’s ever had to do - Does Mime Jr even understand what he’s saying? Does it care about what humans do? Probably not, but Meowth won’t think it’s necessary to point that out

- I like the idea of Meowth sharing gossip with the other Pokémon in general - He’s barely seen talking to Pokémon, which is honestly a waste if you ask me? It’s like the writers forgot that bilingual people don’t actually forget their mother tongue - Imagine Meowth and the other Pokémon just complaining about the dumb shit the humans do - Besides, let him have some friends he won’t be the third wheel to lmao

- Literally tho, imagine all their Pokémon had seen their masters, ahem.. “blast off” - Poor souls didn’t know Pokéballs were see-through from the inside - Jessie would pretend not to care, she’s above that. There’s no reason at all to be ashamed. But she’d be blushing so hard she wouldn’t fool anyone. - Shit’s awkward no matter how tough you are - James wouldn’t even try to pretend, James would straight up die - RIP James

- On another note - James totally makes those little high pitched squeaky sounds during sex and you cannot change my mind it’s canon - You know exactly what I mean - There’s literally no way he doesn’t - He’s tryna be all sexy and smooth and stuff but then Jessie starts touching him or something and he just SQUEAKS - Secretly she finds it kinda hot in a weird way but she’d never admit it - Pretends it’s a coincidence that she’ll keep trying to get him to make more of those sounds - Meanwhile Meowth outside the door is like “what the actual fuck James” - “Jimmy’s such a weird one” - He’d tease James to no end about it - Meowth embarrassing James about details of stuff he shouldn’t even know about is my new favorite thing - Also Jessie trying to stop him but also holding back laughter because “well he’s not wrong” - “WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON?!” - C’mon she can’t turn down an opportunity to tease him - James is then all embarrassed and lowkey offended and gives her the silent treatment - He refuses to talk to her ever again - Aka for like the next half hour or so - Eventually she’d probably apologize though because even she isn’t THAT mean - At least not when it comes to James - Not always - Maybe - She gets soft around him when nobody’s around to see it - Sometimes - And maybe he’d forgive her if she did those things again...

- Jessie being soft with James is my absolute weakness though - Especially since they’ve been friends for so long and he knows full well that nobody else is allowed to see that side of her ever - It’d definitely make him feel special and loved - Imagine Jessie letting her guard down and being kind to James for no reason other than because she genuinely wants him to be happy - I am weak - Even if it’s just little things - Especially those tbh - Just trying to cheer him up when he’s down instead of simply telling him to get over it - Saving a nice bottlecap she found even though she never understood that hobby of his - Just saving it for him because maybe he’d want it - He’d be so touched - Probably would make his entire week - He’d save that one bottlecap forever - Even if it’s not one of the kind he collects, or a duplicate or sth - It’d be his most prized possession

- Something I really want to happen is them sharing their food properly, because you know that for those two that’d be a HUGE sign of affection - The anime may pretend they share everything equally (they say so in an episode) but honestly 90% of the time they get in literal fights over the last scrap - So one of them happily sharing could even be the first step of them realizing their feelings - Like, maybe James would let Jessie eat his portion - She’d definitely take longer than him to show any signs of affection - And she just - “Why’d you let me have it is something wrong with you?” - “No…it’s just…you seem really hungry” - When he offers her the food, instead of immediately devouring it like she usually would she just - Stops and doubles back - Stares at the food in his hands, then at him, back at the food - “Are you serious?” - In that moment he realized what he’s done and gets all defensive - “Just eat it, Jess!” - “I’m just not that hungry, okay?” (*stomach growling noise*) - Then they are interrupted by Meowth - “What about me? I’m starvin’!” - In the end they just split it in three parts because sharing with them both is a bit less awkward to explain

- Also - In the beginning when they start falling for each other, Meowth would be oblivious by choice - As in he sees the signs but he ignores them because “nahhh no way” - Then when he figures it out he mercilessly teases James about having a crush on Jess every chance he gets - Though he’d do it without her hearing about it, because he isn’t THAT mean to him - But when they actually start dating he realizes he was a FOOL and now he has to deal with that forever - Like - He probably gave James advice out of pity - (James totally confides in him at some point because he just needs to talk to SOMEONE) - But then Jessie went for it and he realizes too late what that means for him - Now he needs to live with the consequences

- Meowth giving James love advice about Jessie though - That sounds like a huge train wreck - I mean he may tease him to no end but they’re still best friends so he’d still try to help when he realizes James is serious - “That dumbass really got it bad huh” - Deep down he does care for his friends after all - He’s like permanently done with James’ shit but he still keeps his secret - Although he can and will use his newly gained knowledge as blackmail whenever he wants something from him - And at the same time half of his “advice” consists of “lol Jessie’s gonna kill you” - “YOU’RE NOT HELPING MEOWTH” - James is already well aware of that - That’s his problem - He’s been faced with the full extent of Jessie’s wrath before - He knows better than to risk getting on her bad side

- On the other hand, it’s canon that when Jessie falls for someone she tends to actually act friendly and kind around them to some degree - Which I’m assuming is an instinctive reaction because she doesn’t want to scare them off - But falling for James would be weird since it’d trigger her instinct to be soft and good but at the same time - “No that’s James wtf” - She’s been treating him full force nasty for years and so far he hasn’t left so there’s really no need - Honestly James tends to get freaked out whenever she’s calm because a nice Jessie is just WRONG - Pure boy got so used to her mean antics he gets worried about her when she’s friendly to him - As a result, before admitting her feelings even to herself, Jessie would instead get MORE mean out of defiance - That darn Tsundere smh - She cares a lot about him but she cannot show weakness her mind won’t allow it - Nope - Fight me, feelings

- Vs Jessebelle, who is a Yandere and should be feared - And should also be decked in the face by Jessie tyvm - Imagine an actual Yandere Jessebelle tho - Nightmare fuel - I mean that whip scene was already terrifying - She broke a fucking dresser with the hit that was aimed at James - I know it was exaggerated cartoon violence but like she almost straight up murdered him - And his parents are okay with that?? - Because he’s too delinquent for her - So he can just die apparently - Now imagine her getting obsessed with him to the point of actively following him around to get him to marry her - And trying to get Jessie out of the way to get him back - Can I just say Horror AU right there - I’m an angst writer don’t test me - I like to take dark stuff and make it WORSE - Picture this - James coming back from a short trip to gather firewood or sth like that, only to find Jessie unconscious and bleeding from a stab wound - :) - Maybe Jessebelle is still standing there and laughing because she finally won - Of course she’ll survive but just BARELY - They’re in the middle of nowhere and James frantically tries to find someone to help her but they’re all alone - I mean after all that blasting off they probably know some basic first aid at least - He could stop the bleeding and then take her to a hospital with the hot air balloon - Cue that good ol’ “refusing to leave her bedside until she wakes up” cliché thing - But also imagine Jessie waking up in the hospital with James asleep next to her - Maybe even subconsciously holding her hand in his sleep - Because he was too worried about her and was probably talking to her before he ended up passing out from exhaustion

[hopecountylovin]

FC5 Birthday Bash

Happy FC5 Birthday bash everybody!! My giftee was @ect00plasm I wrote a Jacob/FemDep fic for her and hope she enjoys!!

I love this fandom oh so much!!!!

Word count: 3261

Warnings: some smut at the end

***

Jacob’s large fingers tighten around the knife in one hand as he harshly cuts into the chicken on his plate. His eyes shoot back and forth between the Deputy and his brother, he can’t help but be pissed.

They spent the whole damn day together, then they show up late for dinner. Her face flushed and they have both obviously avoided each other’s gaze throughout the evening. John’s been in a pissy mood the whole time, sneering at everything she’s said.

It’s pretty obvious that what’s going on, Jacob’s not an idiot. He knows John’s the pretty one of the family, of course she chose him, but now he has to watch them in their lovers spat. It’s pathetic and weak, at least that what he tells himself as he ignores the burning pang of jealousy in his gut.

No not jealousy. Just irritation, she’s gonna be a real pain on the way home and he doesn’t want to deal it. That’s all it is.

Finally the spectacle ends and Jacob can take the Deputy back to the Veterans Center. After touching foreheads to his family he begins to head towards the door using a hand at her back to usher her out the door. He definitely doesn’t take note of the way his hand fits perfectly.

John makes his way towards them before they can reach the door. The soldier’s body stiffens as he watches his little brother grab her arm and lean close to whisper to her, with a smug smile on his face. Her body stiffens as she distinctively turns her side away from him. Jacob tries not to pay attention he doesn’t want to know why.        

The Deputy’s eyes widen in shock for a brief moment before her brow furrows and her supple lips part. Though Jacob doesn’t give her a chance to speak.

“Let's go you two already wasted ‘nough of our time.” He grunts in reply before he lets go and walks toward his vehicle.

He can hear her sigh as her footsteps follow his, he can’t help but feel a weight lift as he take her away from John. Maybe he’s the pathetic one.

The truck wheels crunch over gravel as scenery rushes by. The air in the  truck cabin is tense at best, it always is after the weekly dinner, but now it’s even more so.

The whole thing started months earlier when they tried to arrest Joseph and the reaping began. Pretty early on the Resistance realized they were outnumbered and the Deputy pled with the family to come to some sort of truce.

Of course Joseph jumped on the chance to have the rookie deputy be a part of their cause. But Jacob could see through her ploy. He noticed the way she had wore her hair, her low cut top, not to mention the obscene look she made towards John.

She was using his siblings’ obsession to manipulate them, and Jacob had no intention of falling for it, so he insisted on having her stay with him. Of course John threw a hissy fit when Jacob suggested it, so they came to their own truce when it came to the damn woman. The siblings all got their own time with her to show her towards the path, but it was him she came home to.

If the family were to house their greatest enemy, it only made sense that the head of security - the protector - keep a close eye on her. That was it, there was no other reasonin’ behind wanting her with him, at least that what he told himself.

A loud exaggerated sigh from the woman brings him out of his musings. Jacob was more than happy to soak in the tense silence, so of course she does the exact opposite of what he wants.

“Aww what’s wrong sweetheart? You upset with how you left things with your lover back there?” He asks, only a fraction of his anger coming out in his cool tone.

The comment makes her snap her head in his direction, her nostrils flaring and fingers curling into fists. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Your brother is definitely NOT my lover!” The last word is spat from her mouth like it burned her.

A humorless laugh is huffed out as he tries to ignore the sense of relief he feels at her words. “Hmmm sure didn’t look that way to me darlin’.”

“So tell me Jacob what the hell did it look like to you?” Her voice rising with each word, her expression showing irritation and maybe even hurt.

That was the thing with her, she always wore her heart on her sleeve. Normally he’d find that to be a weakness, but more often than not, usually it left him reeling-wanting to do all he could to make and keep her happy. He had begun to believe she was using her feelings to manipulate him, she was spending an awful lot of time with Faith lately. What else could it be?

“Looked like a lovers spat to me, sweetheart.” He uses the last word as a barb to hide how much the idea of her with his brother affects him.

Out of the corner of his eye he can see her make a face like he kicked her puppy. He simply lifts an eyebrow and smirks at her.

An amusing squeaky sounds leaves her mouth before she says “That is NOT what happened.”

He snorts at that - yeah right nothing happened. “Suure. So if your not fucking my baby brother than what was going on between you two?”

“Nothing” she blurts out through gritted teeth.

“Oh I see.” He moves his head in an over eager nod. “So it was just nothin’ that made that pretty little blush grace your cheeks huh, and it was it just little bits of nothing he whispered in your ear before we left?”

The expected retort never comes so he takes his eyes away from the road to look at her. She’s staring at him a serious look on her face but there’s something else there too. Again he finds himself wanting to do whatever he can to remove it.

He turns back to the road and opens his mouth to say something, anything really, but she beats him to it with a long loud sigh as she moves to look back out the window.

“If you really must know all of that was about my confession today...I-I had a new sin for him and...well lets just say he didn’t like the details.”

They arrive at the Veterans’ Center, Jacob runs over what shes says while he shifts into park. His mind is working a mile per minute trying to guess what she could have said to him. And not much makes sense.

He leans closer to her, maybe enjoying being in her personal space just a little too much, before he says “Yeah no.” He shakes his head with a smile, their noses almost touching.

“What?” The word is barely a whisper, those big eyes of hers about double in size.

“Sorry Honey, but I don’t buy it. Johnny Boy’s always been a bit...dramatic but I don’t see him actin’ like he did over a lousy confession. You must of done something more than that.” His eyebrow waggle at his last statement letting his meaning be known.

Again her nostrils flare and her eyes somehow get even larger before her lids fall into a glare. Jacob swallows his disappointment reels back in rage putting more space between them.

“You stupid ass. You have NO idea what your talking about.” She then turns opens the door and starts to walk towards the building.

And really that just pisses him off, how dare she just walk away from him like that? He too hops out of the truck with quick agility as he makes his way over to her..

“Oh come on Princess. Just admit it. It’s not like anyone could blame ya, John is the pretty one of the bunch.” The tone he uses betrays his words, implying that there would indeed be lots of blame pointed at her.

His words stop her in her tracks, though she keeps her back to him. There’s a few long moments of silence as she breathes heavily, seething at his accusation. Then she stalks towards him, a glint in her eye.

Jacob stills. He should stop her but he can’t. No that's not right, he could easily stop her in many different ways. The disturbing fact of the matter is that he doesn't want to. He cant stop looking at her lips, as various ideas of what she’ll do to him running through his mind.

Obviously his fantasies lead him to be caught off guard when the open palm of her hand meets his cheek. The smacking noise it makes causes the whole training yard of the Veterans Center to stop and look at him.

This doesn’t stop her anger or that look she’s making. “How fucking dare you. Of all the men in this god forsaken county, of all the Seeds, your brother is the last person I would let touch me that way!!”

Her chest is heaving, though her face softens somewhat with a curious look he can’t interpret. Nothing happens from it as she only turns around walks away. AGain he notices that she seems to favor the one side as if she had been hurt.

Though his thoughts of that disrupted as her hips switch in a haughty manner as she walks away and he cant help but stare at her lovingly. No not lovingly, it’s just irritation he feels towards her. That's all.

It’s not until she leaves his vision that he starts to notice his men...staring. He straightens as his eyes darken into a glare. “What?!?!” he lets out in an intimidating growl.

One of the new guys has the gall to laugh. Without turning his head he takes his pistol from its holster and shoots him the leg. To the others around him he says “Do something with him.” They comply quickly.

He then looks around at the rest of his men only needing to quirk an eyebrow to get them all back to work.

With his men back in line he decides he’s not quite done with the Deputy. No way is she getting the last word here.

As he stalks up to the building he runs over what she said ‘of all the Seeds.’ The look in her eye when she said that made him think that maybe she could want him...

With a shake of his head he tries to dispel his mind of those kind of thoughts. There’s no use in getting his hopes up. She’s beautiful, strong, clever and a real smartass (and though he’d never admit it he loves that about her). What would she possibly want with an old, broken soldier?

Once he makes his way to her room he doesn't bother knocking and just barges in.

He should have knocked.

The Deputy’s shirt is thrown on the bed while she stands near her dresser. She’s trying to put a large bandage over her ribcage but the way she’s turned he can't quite see what.

She looks at him with surprise for a few beats then attempts to rein back in her emotion. He can’t stop staring at her sun kissed skin, scattered with with small battle scars.

Jacob expects her to say something smart or yell at him to leave instead he gets something so uniquely her.

After a few moments she merely raises an eyebrow, a soft smile on her lips then says “If your gonna keep staring you should close the door.” She pauses and cocks her head. “That is unless you want your men to see too.” She smirks at him.

A growl escapes him, as he stalks towards her like she’s prey, slamming the door closed in the process.

He stops as he gets closer noticing what she was covering up with the bandages. The word LUST in big angry letters scribbled from the back of her ribs to the front. The T was dangerously close to her breast. The dark and ugly tattoo is fresh and still raised.

A heated wave of jealousy washes over him

“John did this?” his voice is gruff.

She hums “Yes, I told you he didn’t like my confession today.”

His fingers gently graze over the puffy, reddened skin. “You weren't kiddin’. “ He pauses a moment, thinking of the best way to phrase his next statement without letting on to his his own curiosity.

“What, you tell him you wanted to screw that Boshaw idiot or somethin’?” He really can't imagine who else would cause such a reaction from John.

Her body tenses at that, as a delicate hand reaches up to cup his cheek, tearing his eyes from her wound to her face. The unfamiliar feeling startles him and she smiles lightly at that.

“No Sharky is not the one I’ve been thinking about constantly. Nor is he the one I have lust filled dreams over.”

A tight breath is released from Jacobs chest the lightest whisper leaving his lips “Then who?”

In return she simply rolls her eyes then pulls him closer to his face.

There’s no more room in Jacobs mind to think of what she could be planning or anything else but his next moves. He reaches a hand up through her silken hair to cradle her head the other wrapping around to rest at the small of her back.

Its awkward for a moment as their lips meet. Then the months of pent up want begin to overfill within him as he deepens their kiss and enters her mouth with his tongue.

A small moan escapes her as his hand moves to unclasp her bra the other exploring the unmarked side of her body.

Her hand snakes down his chest as the other one joins to help take off his jacket and shirt. It’s been so long since he’s been this exposed like this in front of a woman, let alone a woman like her. Jacob got over his appearance long ago but now as her eyes rake over his torso an odd sense of anxiety rushes over him.

The sweet look on her face settles him some, and all fears are replaced by hot heat as she begins to unbutton his pants, he does the same to her.

When her the majority of her clothing is removed she blinks up at him in nothing but a pair of red lace panties. Jacob backs her up to the wall as he kiss her roughly. He then begins to trail sweet kisses, with the occasional light bite, down her neck and body stop briefly to lightly suck on each nipple earning sweet mewls from his girl.

That what she is now, his. There was no going back on that. Now that he had her he was not going to go without.

His kisses continue down as he simultaneously brings his knees to the floor and her legs up over his shoulders, the wall behind her supporting her back.

Each of her soft thighs get their fair share of kisses and nips before his mouth meets her sweet folds. He too has had vivid dreams of this and damn if she doesn’t taste a thousand times better than he ever could have imagined.

The Deputy’s pants of pleasure become more and more desperate as he continues. As her legs begin to shake he sticks a finger into her core causing her to scream as she unravels for him. A wicked smile paints across his face as he watches her.

As she comes down he begins to get up being sure to keep her steady. He then stands fully and grabs her hand.

In response to her quizzical stare he says “Come on Rook, give me break, i'm not a spring chicken.” He says as he tries to lead her to the chair in the corner of the room.

“Wait.” She exclaims before she heads to her dresser. She pauses a moment then opens the drawer and fetches a condom out.

He smirks as sits on the chair beckoning her over to him “You had this planned for while didn’t you Princess?”

The response he gets is a bite of her lips and another one of those sweet blushes. He smiles at her more than ready for what comes next.

She rips the condom and slowly brings it down over his member before she straddles him and slowly sinks down. They moan in unison at the long awaited sensation. He kisses her hard, as she settles around him.

Jacob’s hips buck forward eliciting a small whine before she begins to move against him. The movements are slow at first before they quicken. Damn he didn’t know sex could feel this good. This could end way sooner than intended.

He grabs her ass again as he lifts her up. While remaining inside of her, he kicks the chair out of the way as he gently brings her down to the floor grabbing both legs so they rest against his chest, one foot on either side of head.

She moans loudly at the change in position. “Jacob, I’m so close.”

The older man can only growl in response as his thrusts become more and more erratic. He brings his thumb down to play with her clit, the action earning another moan before she’s sent over the edge with a loud shout of his name.

The action, combined with the pulsing of her body, cause him to peak as well with an animalistic groan. He lets her legs fall to either side of him as he falls forward on top of her.  A lithe hand reaches up to run cool fingers up and down his back.

A tired smile is etched across both of their faces.

They begin to rise and untangle themselves from each other. Jacob sits up his back against the wall his legs spread outward. Rook surprises him by sitting up to only lay back down in his lap.

Jacob stiffens for a moment, unsure and not used to this kind of intimacy. Sure he’s fucked before, its natural and helps relieve tension, but he’s never involved these sorts of feelings before. He’s definitely never wanted to stay with the girl afterwards as he does now.

She starts to absently rub patterns into his stomach, the motion calms him. As he relaxes a thought he’s been pushing away needles back in.

A humorless laugh leaves him, he hopes the sound disguises the vulnerability in his next question “You do this sorta thing with my baby brother Deputy?”

The hand rubbing his skin freezes and it’s her turn to stiffen. She sits up and turns to look him in the eye. Her eyes heated with anger and hurt. “No Jacob. I’ve only done this with you.”

Without thought he pulls her into his lap. She turns her head again to rest it in the crook of his neck her earlier ministrations being again. In a softer tone she whispers “Only you Jacob”

His entire body heats as an involuntary smile breaks out on his face. His hold tightens around her. Yeah this could still all be ploy to destroy the project, that doesn't matter though, there’s no way in hell he’ll be letting her go any time soon.

[darnedchild]

Universally Monstrous - The Phantom of the Opera

It’s Sherlolly Halloween. This year I’m playing around with short ficlets loosely based off the classic Universal Monsters.

Universally Monstrous

The Phantom of the Opera

It was a well-known secret that New Scotland Yard was haunted.

Or “haunted” if you talked to certain people.

The Phantom—as he had been christened by someone who obviously spent far too much time reading paranormal fiction and not enough doing their job—seemed to favour the basement level of the building.  

Whispered tales of a rare disembodied voice offering biting criticism and unwanted advice routinely made the rounds through the locker room.

“He said it was criminal that I was allowed in the lab,” Anderson had groused over a shared bag of crisps during an impromptu gossip session after a departmental meeting. 

One of the lab techs rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure the Phantom isn’t the only one who thinks that.  Have you talked to Donovan lately or are you two still fighting?”

Anderson ignored the other man.  “I’m not kidding, Hooper.  When I checked the shadows to find the owner of the voice, they were empty. The Phantom is real.”

Molly might have scoffed if she hadn’t heard the voice herself.

The first time she’d thought it was a prank, one of the other’s playing a joke on the new hire.  

She’d been sitting at her desk during her lunchbreak, working on the first draft of the fictional crime novel (with a hint of romance between the feisty pathologist and the gruff cop with a heart of gold and abs of steel) that had been screaming “Write me!” in her brain for the last few years.

Molly had been slogging away at a particularly frustrating scene, one that delved into the mind and motives of the murderer, when the need for something caffeinated and bag of crisps grew too great to ignore. She’d minimized her document and headed toward the cafeteria.  When she’d returned twenty minutes later her manuscript was open on the laptop screen, front and centre, and someone had left a long and detailed paragraph of where she’d left off.

“What the hell?”  She’d been extremely annoyed that one of her co-workers had invaded her privacy like that and was mentally preparing the bollocksing of the century when the Voice spoke.

“That’s not how he’d think.  Your killer.”  

Molly had jumped, “Who are you?  Where are you?”

“Don’t be dull,” the Voice admonished her as if it—he—was disappointed in her response.  “You know who I am, I hear you lot chattering on about me all the time.”

She huffed.  “We don’t chatter.”  Molly was met with silence for several seconds.  “Well, I don’t, at any rate.”

“True.  You do tend to hold your tongue when the some of the others begin to wax poetic about the most ridiculous things.”  She’d thought the Voice had been coming from the left before, but now it was clearly coming from the right.

Molly turned a full circle to look for someplace an adult (for he definitely had the deep, smooth voice of a man) could hide. She even ducked to look under the desk.

“Your villain’s thoughts are far too chaotic and disjointed for the methodical serial killer you’ve set him up as.”

“How would you know?”  Could the stories be true?  Was there really a ghost haunting Forensics?  “Is this what you did in a past life?  Get into the minds of criminals?  Did you work down here, or maybe as detective?”

She thought she heard him laugh, and the husky sound caused a sensation like the touch of warm fingers softly brushing up her spine. She shuddered as he spoke again, “Something like that.”

“So, is this one of those ‘unfinished business’ things, or…”  

Molly held her breath and waited but silence was her only answer.

Two weeks later she was sitting at her desk, transcribing her notes from the latest autopsy when she heard, “Excellent catch on the Marshall case.”

“Thanks.  I thought it was a long shot, but what could it hurt to run an extra test or two so-“ Her body recognized his voice before her brain did.  Her skin tingled and something at her core warmed even as she spun in her chair to search the room with her eyes.  

Three days after that, she’d been working on her novel during another lunch break—she’d taken the Phantom’s advice and completely reworked the scene with her villain’s inner thoughts—when she realized she wasn’t completely alone.  Her hands stilled on the keyboard.  “Hello.”

Molly heard him draw in a startled breath somewhere behind her.  “How did you know I was here?”

“You’re not as stealthy as you think.”  She slowly turned, completely unsurprised to see that the room was empty.  Still, she felt that he was nearby.  “I noticed a . . . scent after your last two visits.”  It had been clean and masculine, not clouded with cologne or the musky bodywashes that were popular amongst the male staff.  “And there was a creak, something shifted under your weight this time.”

He was silent for so long she began to worry he might have left again.  “Interesting.”  She got the feeling he was watching her, studying her.

“You, uh, you’re not a ghost, are you?”  Molly almost tripped over her words.

“Of course not.  Didn’t you know, ghosts don’t exist.”  He seemed amused.

She heard another creak and her eyes darted around the room, hoping to pinpoint where the noise was coming from.  “So you just lurk, then.  For fun, or . . .”

“I observe.”  As if that explained anything.  “Some of your co-workers are idiots.  Most of them.”

Molly opened her mouth to argue then shrugged. He wasn’t exactly wrong.  “Still, I’m pretty sure what you’re doing isn’t exactly legal.  For a vast number of reasons.”

He laughed again, and it made her shudder just like the last time.  A good shudder.  The kind that was going to keep her awake thinking the sort of things she shouldn’t. “I’ve never been worried about legalities.”

“Aren’t you worried I’m going to run upstairs and report you?” she asked.

“Are you?”  The Phantom’s seemed to come from directly behind her, which was impossible as her desk was set against a wall.  She didn’t bother turning around as he continued to speak.  “Would it make you feel better to know at least one Detective Inspector is aware of my secret, and has been for nearly as long as I’ve been ‘haunting’ the halls.”

It did actually.  “Do I know them?”

“Possibly.  His name is Lestrade.”

“Oh, I’ve worked with him!”  He’d come looking for her six months before, requesting her assistance with a particularly brutal double homicide.  “Wait, did you-?”

He hummed, a noncommittal answer if she’d ever heard one.

“Am I allowed you know your name?  You obviously know mine and I can’t keep calling you the Phantom like some 1920’s horror movie.”  She bit her lip.

After a long moment, he answered.  “It’s Sherlock.”

“Sherlock,” Molly tested the word, rolled it around on her tongue like a decadent treat.  She swallowed hard and lifted her chin.  “So now that I know you’re real, are you going to show yourself?”

Silence.  He was gone. “Okay.  I’ll take that as a no.”

Over the next few months she slowly stopped joining her co-workers in the cafeteria for lunch or the afternoon break, telling herself she was choosing to stay in her office to work on her novel.

That Sherlock had become a semi-regular visitor at those times had nothing to do with it.

Right?

She often found herself verbally working out plot points and dialogue, smiling when the disembodied Voice occasionally replied to offer suggestions or encouraged her to think through the moment with only a bit of gentle prodding and praise.  Even better, as far as she was concerned, they’d begun to speak of other things. Her life outside of work, bits and pieces of his (although he still kept a tight lip on most everything), books they’d read (they were both voracious readers), all sorts of little things that had begun to add up.

“So this is going to be one of the really difficult bits for me to write.”  Molly leaned back in her chair and pushed away from her desk on the squeaky wheels so she could spin around in a lazy circle.  They’d been talking for nearly half an hour.  “There’s been this building sexual tension between Brandon and Rachel almost from the moment the first met.  Now they’ve just survived a near death experience, emotions are high, the attraction is there.”

Sherlock didn’t say anything and Molly sighed.  “I know, it’s a cliché but it just seems right at this point in their relationship.  But I’ve never really done that.  Well, I mean, I’ve done that; just not the passionate, all consuming kind of . . . that.”

He still remained silent.  She couldn’t help but fidget.  “It’s just, it’s been a long time and even then it was more of a ‘let’s scratch this itch’ than a ‘take me against the wall right this second’ thing. God, I think my ex Tom would have hurt himself laughing if I even dared to suggest it.  If anything it was boring and I just wanted to get it over with so I could see if there was anything good on the telly.  And I have absolutely no idea why I’m telling you any of this.”

“I’m not really sure why you’re doing it, either. What is it you want from me, Molly?” He sounded almost as uncomfortable as she felt.  Not for the first time, she wished she could see his face to better read his emotions.

“Well, you’re . . . You’ve got that voice.  And you’re smart.  And you have a wicked sense of humour.  I know you hang around here most of the time, but surely you-you’ve . . . I can’t imagine there would be a mad scramble for the remote with you.  That is, with you and-and the person you were with. So, I was hoping you could help reel me in if I get a little too . . . unrealistic?  With the scene?”  That was it. She was going to go home and drown her embarrassment in a carton of cookies and cream ice cream and try to pretend she’d never started this conversation.

He sighed.  “Molly, I don’t know what you imagine I do when I’m not here, but I am absolutely positive it isn’t whatever you think it is.”

“What?”

“Fuck it,” Sherlock sighed.  The large shelving unit that was bolted to the wall slowly swung inward to reveal a dark doorway.  She could just make out a tall figure standing in the shadows.  

Molly got to her feet as he stepped into the room and she saw him clearly for the first time.  He was tall and fit, dark but impeccably tailored clothes, a mop of soft looking curls, and a strange black mask that covered the left half of his face.

“Is this supposed to be a joke?” she asked.  She’d referenced the old Phantom of the Opera movie before, did he take that as a challenge?  Was he making fun of her?

“I wish it was.”  Sherlock lowered his head and reached up to carefully remove his mask. He took a deep breath before he lifted his face and turned toward her fully.

Whatever had happened to him had ruined half of his face.  He was lucky he was still able to see out of his left eye.  “How?”

“Acid.  I’d barely begun working with Lestrade as a Consulting Detective—you wouldn’t have heard of the term, I invented the position—and the abusive husband of one of my clients decided to get his revenge.  It could have been worse.  As you noticed, I was able to keep my eye and my mouth and vocal cords were virtually undamaged.  Believe it or not, I was even more of a socially inept arsehole and my interest in relationships had been virtually non-existent before the incident.  And then this happened.”  He gestured to his face.  “You can see how off putting this is to another person.  It was easier to seclude myself than deal with people every day.”

Molly had questions.  A lot of questions.  “Okay, I get the wanting to stay away from other people thing, but how in the heck did you get a secret door in the basement of Scotland Yard?”  

“Doors, plural.  I have a contact in the government and a massive trust fund.”  He blinked at her.  “Why haven’t you run off or retched on your shoes?  Why are you pretending this doesn’t bother you?”

“Last week I had to do a post-mortem on a floater who had been in the Thames for several weeks.  A disfiguring facial injury and healed scar tissue is nothing in comparison.” She bit her lip and took a step closer. “Could I-Would it be all right if I-“

“Touch my face?” Sherlock asked at the same time Molly worked up the nerve to say, “Get a tour of your underground supervillain lair after my shift ends?”

They stared at each other for a long moment before he nodded.  “I guess that would be acceptable.  As long as no one saw you roaming the halls after you were supposed to be gone.  As incompetent as most of the idiots upstairs can be, they are trained law enforcement officers.”  

Molly smiled.  “One more question, and this one is super important.  Can you get wi-fi down there?"

[braindamageforbeginners]

Hair Loss

For those keeping count, today is Day 16 (that’s chemo doses), Radiation Treatment 10 (that finishes up week two on that calendar), and experimental infusion #3.  Here’s a shocker; radiation is awful (we’ll get into details shortly), which is hardly news, but it’s worth saying, because there is a small contingent of Americans (mostly) who are gleefully looking forward to nuclear apocalypse, for reasons ranging from “I have a really cool bunker, and I want to know what humans taste like” to a very strange group of Christians who believe that Jesus will come back and nuke the planet (which doesn’t seem very Christ-like, but Apocalyptic Christianity is a very, very strange doctrine, which is why most Christians I know are somewhat doubtful). Before you push the nuclear button (or vote for someone who claims they’ll do it), I would urge you to get written, notarized guarantees of immunity from Jesus, because radiation is utterly miserable. Again, I’m in a waiting room with people whose faces are literally - not figuratively - falling off; and I’m getting - from what my doctors say - a relatively specific, mild-dosage of the stuff. And I’m still feeling wretched, so I’m pretty sure that exposure to weaponized radiation would be unimaginably awful. That is today’s Life Lesson.

I started today checking in at the lobby of the Cancer Center of the Large Hospital in Socal, which is like Freshman Registration; they tell you where to go, and when (even though I have a pretty good idea of where I need to be, and at what time, you do need someone to flag your arrival in the system, otherwise everyone will ignore you). I was flagged for having new insurance - regular readers will remember I called many, many, many people, and filled out assorted forms in order to guarantee continuity of care. I was assured by some billing demon that, if I provided them with all appropriate information prior to the New Year, they’d be able to figure it out. So, you can understand my consternation at some receptionist who said they were still processing my claims and/or insurance information.If you are involved in health administration in any capacity, the only - ONLY - acceptable response to a patient waiting for paperwork to clear is, “You ain't got no problem, Jules. I'm on the motherfucker. Go back in there, chill them niggas out and wait for the cavalry, which should be coming directly.”

This doubly-pissed me off, because the radiation folks somehow figured this out yesterday, in only a few hours, without any administrative staff (if I was middle-management in the medical system, I would be very, very worried that not-MBA-possessing nurses were capable of doing the job better than an entire billing department). I was mentally calling upon my Inner Sith Lord and reenacting Carthage (we’ll return to that thought momentarily) when Dad advised me to count to ten. Good news, the receptionist had me sign some sort of legal waiver that would enable them to retroactively bill insurance and/or sue me (or some combination of the two), and sent me on my merry way.

A brief aside; I’ve noticed, since Surgery #3, that my fight or flight impulse has dramatically shifted from “Skulk away glaring” to “Don’t be afraid to use your teeth.” I don’t know if that’s some sort of neurological effect, but it is getting 1000% better results than being good and hoping for some sort of karmic reward. I’m not going to discourage kindness or good behavior, and I’ll certainly do my best to foster those qualities in the future. At present, we live in a society where the squeaky wheel gets the grease, and you can not just wait and hope someone will take care of you. Or, that could just be the radiation turning me into the Hulk. Please, don’t take that as license to abuse the nurses or receptionists, but you’d be amazed at how well being ugly can cut through stupidity (I will also admit that I’ve had 16 years in the system, I’m pretty good at spotting the gristle in the steak).

There’s also a chance I had an angel on my shoulder for that incident; Research Coordinator told me later he’d heard about my insurance woes and made some calls on my behalf, and said I shouldn’t encounter any more insurance issues in the foreseeable future. Which is a victory for me. Then Research Coordinator hit me with a bomb; they want various samples once a week every week for a year (and the clock on that doesn’t even start until February), as well as experimental chemo drug infusions (and good old Temodar) every couple of weeks. Now, don’t get me wrong; if that’s what it takes to survive, I’ll do it, but that’s a massive commitment without any guarantee that it’ll work (Research Coordinator pointed out that Dr. A, who’s running the trial, got a PhD in glioblastoma treatment, which is probably why my Nocal Mad Scientist Oncologist referred me to him). And I guess it’s better to aggressively and constantly manage a disease, but it still smarts. And the medical team here is absolutely superb; I spent two days trying to get my pharmacy to renew one of my prescriptions (an antidepressant, to be exact); I made a note of it on the back of my hand to ask Dr. B (Dr. A’s research partner)(I’m beginning to suspect this man is some sort of dark trickster god, given his penchant for chaos and his warped sense of humor)(in other words, a kindred soul) about getting a renewal, since the pharmacy told me they were waiting for physician authorization. Dr. B didn’t originally prescribe me this medication, but, within minutes, he’d photographed the back of my hand (which had the medication and dosage on it)(I had it written down elsewhere, but I was hooked up to an IV, and had it written on my hand both as a reminder, and because I knew digging through my pockets for a Post-It wouldn’t be an option), and said I should call the pharmacy by the end of the day. Literally within four hours of that conversation, the pharmacy had my prescription ready. Which was something of a morale boost; since that’s the sort of competence and can-do attitude that will keep me alive.

Also, because life is a horrible march to death, my third-most-feared radiation symptom has showed up: hair loss. Fortunately for my sense of vanity, it’s not noticeable at the moment, and I’ve received wildly differing estimates on the severity, duration, and size of mange-patches to expect. If you read this, please don’t shave your head out of some sort of misguided solidarity or empathy (though I’m interested in any imaginative hat ideas anyone has); I appreciate the gesture, but I’d really rather you make a donation of some sort to a hospital or medical research group. Still, I’m up, coherent, capable of understanding how much trouble I’m in (again, it’s telling that my radiation oncologist double-checked that in our first meeting), and determined to find the punchline to what is the most horrible joke I’ve ever heard. So, I suppose that’s some sort of victory. Still, a year of Gatorade (”Drink of the Damned”) and mega-chemo hangovers.

Anyway… WEIGHT: 98 kg CONCENTRATION: Good. Maybe. It’s hard to tell on these all-day visits, because there’s constant noise, interruptions, forms, and discomfort. MEMORY: Very good. Again, I wasn’t really in a good setting to assess that. APPETITE: Not bad. I’m still eating, but not very much. I suspect that has little to do with the weird drugs, and more to do with drinking 17 gallons of Gatorade. ACTIVITY LEVEL: Not bad, but I also spent the vast majority of the day sitting or lying down. SLEEP QUALITY: Not bad; I slept most of last night, but not very well. COORDINATION/DEXTERITY: Good. I guess? Again, I spent most of today lying down or sitting, so I can’t really judge that. PHYSICAL: That nasty stiffness/fatigue I’ve learned to fear from the other injections is creeping into my neck and shoulders, so I’m sure I’ll be praying for death tomorrow morning. And I have a nasty headache at the suture site (Radiation Oncologist told me she’d be willing to prescribe decadron, but she also knows I hate that drug, and there’s no guarantee it’d do anything for inflammation at a surgical site, so I have a Tylenol salt-lick this evening). SIDE EFFECTS: I’m going bald. And I feel generally lousy.

[dekuthedork]

Cat Red-Handed

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia (My Hero Academia)

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Shinsou Hitoshi

Words: 1000

Summary:

“Uh. Hey Shinsou?”

Shinsou’s shoulders hunched as he turned to face the other, looking like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. The taller boy was flustered and guilty looking as he cradled the squirming kitten to his chest.

Thanks to @cuteshitiscute for the prompt: “Shinsou takes care of a stray cat inside the school and Deku finds out”

[Cross-posted on Ao3]

On the weekends, most students tended to leave campus, going out to see movies, visit their parents, etcetera. This weekend, Izuku was holed up in his room catching up on homework. He’d injured himself in class doing something reckless (it wasn’t his fault, okay, he couldn’t just let Todoroki win their competition so easily!) and as punishment, he hadn’t been able to get notes from his classmates for the missed classes. He’d fallen behind, but it wasn’t too hard to catch up.

He was almost done with his work, after finishing the last paragraph of his Modern Lit essay, he’d be free to do whatever he liked. Uraraka had gone out shopping with the other girls in 1A, but maybe Iida would be hanging around somewhere, and they could do something together? His eyes wandered to the window, where he had a decent view of the mostly-empty UA campus.

The boy stared off into space, lost in thought. He was brought out of it when he saw a blur of purple pass by suddenly. He blinked, wondering what it was. Izuku stood from his desk and stood before his window, and caught sight of something strange. It was.. Shinsou? He was running around, not far from the class 1A dorm. What’s he doing?

If he squinted, he could make out a much smaller blur- an animal of some kind. Curiosity piqued, he abandoned his work entirely (he could finish later, it’ll be fine) and left the dorm building to see what the heck his friend was doing running around like that.

Izuku got to Shinsou just as the taller boy succeeded in scooping up the thing he’d been chasing around- a small, mewling kitten. Its fur was raggedy and patchy, covered in dirt with spots of blood. The fur on its back was damp.

“Uh. Hey Shinsou?”

Shinsou’s shoulders hunched as he turned to face the other, looking like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. The taller boy was flustered and guilty looking as he cradled the squirming kitten to his chest. Ah, Izuku realised, probably a stray.

A beat of silence, the pair staring at each other.

Shinsou broke it first. “Don’t tell anyone, please! I couldn’t just leave her-”

“Shinsou, it’s okay,” Izuku interrupted, “I won’t tell anyone, you won’t get in any trouble.”

Shinsou sighed, shoulders sagging with relief. Since he was aiming for the hero course, he had to carefully maintain a squeaky clean record- even breaking the smallest rules could keep him from getting in.

“Do you want to explain what happened? Where’d you find her?” Izuku asked gently.

“On my way back from the mall, I heard noises in an alleyway. When I checked it out, I found her,” Shinsou nodded to the kitten he still held, almost protectively, “all alone. I couldn’t leave her there, and there aren’t any no kill shelters nearby, so.”

Shinsou cleared his throat and continued, sounding a little embarrassed. “I was trying to give her a bath, but I wasn’t careful enough and she got away.” His ears were red.

Izuku nodded to acknowledge the words and melts a little with sympathy for the small bundle in Shinsou’s arms. The air around them was somber- who would abandon a kitten?- so he took a risk in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“That was really nice of you Shinsou. It’s so clawful that poor kitten was left all alone like that.” He slips the pun in easily, casually.

Shinsou took a breath, about to reply, before registering Izuku’s words. He squinted at the other boy for a moment, looking lost. Then, he lets out a breathless laugh. “I can’t-” he’s cut off by his laughter, and has to try again, “I can’t believe you just- that was terrible.”

Nailed it.

Izuku only beamed at him, giggling a little himself. “Thanks, I try.”

Shinsou just shook his head, eyes rolling good-naturedly.

Izuku taps his lip, thinking. He wanted to offer his help, but how? He should probably just make an offer and go from there.

“Did you need any help with taking care of her? Kouda would be willing to talk to her, if that would help. I’m not sure what good that would do, exactly, but it would probably be interesting, and he could get her to calm down a bit more around you. Oh! We figured out recently that Aizawa sensei has this huge soft spot for cats, so he’d probably help you out with her if you needed it, but he’s still a teacher, and he’s pretty busy, so-” Izuku cut himself off abruptly, realising he’d been rambling.

Time to become one with the floor, then, he thought, cheeks burning red. He’d never rambled like that in front of Shinsou before, and he was mortified. Bad puns were one thing, but going on like that was whole new level of Bad. His spiralling thoughts were stopped short when he hesitantly looked up at Shinsou, seeing not annoyance or judgement, but gentle amusement.

“Midoriya.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Calm down.”

“Uh. Okay. Sounds good. Calming down now.”

“Wanna help me bathe her?” Shinsou offered.

Izuku looked surprised, before a large, excited grin grew on his face. “Sure thing!”

Several hours, curses, and scratches later, they’d succeeded in their task, and Midoriya set off to the pet store to buy what they’d need to look after the kitten. Hitoshi had been sure to give the boy a long, detailed list of what he was to buy. Hitoshi would’ve gone himself, but Midoriya was, frankly, not good at handling animals- when Hitoshi told the nervous boy to hold the kitten, he’d sputtered and trembled, too worried about possibly dropping her to actually hold her.

Sitting alone in his room, kitten purring in his lap (he’d known she would warm up to him, it was just a matter of time, cats love him), he rolled his eyes. Hitoshi was glad to have a friend, but still. What a nerd.

[rt8815]

Beethoven and The Doctor

Thanks for the love and advice, @dontshootmespence @criminal-minds-fanfiction

Word count: 2,058 (I’m long winded, sorry.) Proofread, hopefully no mistakes.

I fixed it!

Stupidly long author’s note to follow :P XD

It was a bright, warm October morning in Washington, D.C. Penelope Garcia and Derek Morgan strode into the apartment building swiftly, the former with an air of sheer determination, the latter with one of mild trepidation.

“Baby Girl, I’m not so sure we should -”

“Shush, you,” Garcia interjected, playfully slapping Derek on the arm. “This. Is. Happening. I put a lot of thought into today’s festivities and he will have fun, even if it kills him.”

Morgan raised his arm in front of her, halting their climb up the stairs. He had a stern expression on his face. “Penelope, Reid said he didn’t want a huge fuss on his birthday,” he said reproachfully.

“Oh, he doesn’t know what he wants,” Garcia countered as she rolled her eyes and waved her hand dismissively.

Morgan released a heavy sigh, resignedly following the clickety-clack of Penelope’s ridiculously high heels when she resumed her journey up the staircase. “He did agree to dinner with everyone tonight, but as much as he’ll love spending time with us, it’ll also exhaust him. We know how overstimulated Reid gets – all that noise, the camera flashes, the crowd – he needs quiet time alone to prepare himself for that.”

They had reached Reid’s floor. Garcia paused on the landing before turning to face Morgan. She looked crestfallen and slightly ashamed of herself. “I know, you’re right,” she conceded, “I…but,” she pouted as she defiantly raised the platter in her hands, “…Doctor Who cupcakes.”

Morgan flashed his impossibly white smile. “I know, Mamma. I worry about him too. Let’s leave these at his door and we can text him so he knows they’re out here. That work for you?”

Garcia, however, wasn’t paying attention to him. “Shhh, can you hear that?”

Morgan listened for a second, then he caught it; somebody nearby was playing an electric guitar. More like making it sing. “They’re talented, whoever they are…ummm, is that…Beethoven?”

“Derek, it’s coming from Reid’s apartment.” They meandered towards the door, their heads tilted in curiosity, their hearts warmed by the performance. It had clearly been practiced to perfection, but not for a packed concert hall or a panel of judges.

No, this felt more…personal, more intimate. Morgan opened his mouth to say just that when Garcia interrupted his thoughts. “Hold on, Reid doesn’t play guitar, so how…oh, wait…” realization dawned on Garcia’s face as she broke into a devilish grin.

“Oh-ho-ho. Spencer, you naughty boy,” she giggled quietly, prompting Morgan to raise his eyebrows.

“What in the world are you on about, Penelope?”

“It’s McKinley, it has to be. I guess she took the day off work. Well, no wonder he didn’t wanna spend the day with us,” whispered Garcia, whose cheeks were now flushed with excitement.

Morgan’s eyes shifted from Garcia to the door while he processed her statement. “You mean the McKinley? Works at The Smithsonian McKinley? The one he’s been dating for almost a year?”

Penelope nodded in confirmation. “Ley’s also in a band; they sub for a couple of house bands around the city.”

Morgan chuckled admiringly, impressed with both this mystery woman and his kid brother. “All right, Pretty Boy! Get some,” he cheered quietly. “Man, I really need to keep in touch more; I’m missing a lot – too much.” In the background, the last couple notes of “Für Elise” rang through the air, quickly followed by lilting, if somewhat nervous, laughter.

“So, Doctor, what’s the verdict? Give me your honest review.” 

Reid took a moment to respond. “It’s not what I expected, but that was lovely, Kinley, thank you.” 

“You know, for someone whose career hinges in no small part on controlling your affect and demeanor, you’re surprisingly terrible at lying, Spencer,” McKinley admonished him. 

Outside the door, Derek snorted lightly. 

“What?! I’m not lying, Kinley,” Reid exclaimed, his voice rising an octave or two. 

“There it is! You’re using your squeaky voice! Always a dead giveaway.” 

“Squeaky voice? I do not have a – never mind. I meant what I said, McKinley.” 

Derek started shaking with silent laughter, while Penelope smirked proudly as she leaned against the doorframe. She had apparently borne witness to this type of exchange between the lovebirds before. 

“You’re hedging, and you know I don’t tolerate that. I’m a grown-ass woman, Spencer. I can handle constructive criticism. I welcome it, in fact. You’re censoring yourself in an attempt to spare my feelings, and that’s insulting. It’s unfair – to me and to you.” 

“You played beautifully,” Spencer reiterated. 

“But?” McKinley wouldn’t budge. Judging by the full minute of awkward silence, it appeared that Reid wouldn’t either. 

“Oh, she’s good,” Derek mouthed at Penelope, “and she calls him on his b.s. I like her already.” Garcia waved her hands dramatically. “Wait until you meet her tonight,” she gushed. 

“Okay,” Reid finally relented, “I don’t believe that classical music ought to be played on electric guitars – electric anything. The juxtaposition is too jarring. It feels…wrong. They shouldn’t mix, and I’m quite certain the composers would agree.” 

“Pffft, Beethoven totally would’ve been a metalhead,” McKinley declared. “Anyway, I understand; classical music and rock are to you what meat and sweet are to me. Bacon dipped in maple syrup? Ewww! And yet some people like the combination. Now I know to pull out my keyboard for certain songs.” 

“I didn’t want to sound ungrateful,” Reid mumbled apologetically. 

“You complimented me on how well I played, didn’t you?! We’re not required to enjoy all the same things because we’re dating. And Spencer, every day you show me how much you appreciate me.” 

“You must’ve worked on that for weeks, though, Kinley.” 

“Yeah, and you burned the midnight oil on that Edgar Allan Poe painting you gave me for my birthday. It’s unconventionally beautiful. The painting is very…you. That’s why I love it; that’s why I love you, Spencer Reid. You couldn’t be cookie cutter even if you tried.” 

Derek and Penelope swore they felt the heat from Reid’s blush oozing through the door. 

When Reid replied, he sounded pleasantly breathless. “That’s one of the reasons I love you, too. You’re unapologetically different.” 

Another silence fell, except this time a sweet bashfulness filled the apartment. 

“They’re exchanging ‘I love yous’ now?! Yes!” Penelope whisper-screamed, punching the air. “My OTP grows stronger by the day. Derek, I can see it now,” she murmured dreamily, placing her hand on his chest. “They’ll have a spring wedding. JJ, Em, Tara, and I will help with the planning. We’ll be bridesmaids! You’ll be the best man.” Garcia did a little happy dance, then suddenly gasped. “And baby geniuses! Maybe we’ll get a goddaughter this time!” 

“Just be cool, baby, damn,” Morgan snickered. 

“Oh goodness,” McKinley’s voice echoed from within the apartment, “look at the time, Spencer! It’s nearly 9:00! We need to hustle if we’re gonna finish everything before we have to head over to Rossi’s.” Morgan and Penelope could hear the two moving around, packing up her guitar, setting mugs in the sink. 

“That’s our cue to leave, Penelope. You know what, let’s take these cupcakes to the front desk. If we drop them at the door and text Reid now…well, it’s bad enough that we eavesdropped, but if he finds out, he’ll be embarrassed.”

“Agreed. I’ll write a note saying we figured he was still asleep and we didn’t want to disturb him.” 

A few minutes later, the two were walking arm-in-arm around the corner to Derek’s rental car, Garcia enthusiastically discussing the details of the party she and JJ had organized, and wondering out loud if McKinley had slept over at Reid’s.

...

“So, you ready for this shindig?” McKinley asked through Spencer’s bedroom door. Ever the gentleman, he had graciously offered his room to her so she could change clothes, while he changed out in the living room.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” replied Spencer. “I mean, it’ll be fun – family, friends, good food – but I hope Garcia didn’t go too far overboard…again.”

McKinley pulled an amused face. “‘Hope she didn’t go overboard’? Have you met Penelope Garcia? That’s the only way she knows how to do,” laughed McKinley, checking herself in the mirror one last time. “Are you decent?”

“Yeah,” Spencer answered, “just putting on my tie.” Penelope insisted that everyone wear semi-formal attire, or she’d have their heads. They both thought it was ridiculous, but one simply doesn’t argue with Lady G.

“All right, I’m coming out then.” Cracking open the door, McKinley scanned the living room for Spencer. She spotted him fixing his tie by his reflection in the window. Nervously - she wasn’t used to getting so dressed up - she took a few steps toward Spencer and waited for him to finish.

McKinley’s eyes traveled from his wavy, unkempt hair down to his mismatched sock and Converse-clad feet. She stifled a giggle: her Doctor in a blue suit and All Stars.

“Holy hell, he’s gorgeous,” exclaimed a voice in McKinley’s head, shocking her. She’d always found Spencer objectively attractive, but that didn’t even make the list of reasons she initially felt drawn to him, and it certainly had nothing to do with why she loved him. It was almost everything else, but mainly it was his kindness.

However, since their first kiss and ‘I love yous’ two months ago, McKinley had developed…new feelings for the good Doctor. Feelings she recognized, but had never experienced before. Feelings she had yet to discuss with her boyfriend. Tingly in the pants feelings.

Spencer was still fussing over his tie, so she continued quietly admiring him from behind.

“Behind…he has a cute behind, doesn’t he?” That voice again.

“Behave.” McKinley scolded herself.

“I mean, purple’s his best color, but check out that tush in navy. Rrrr.”

“Stop it! Stop that right now!” McKinley forced her eyes upward, where they settled on Spencer’s face. He was fighting a losing battle to keep the tie straight, biting his lower lip in frustration.

“Well, you already know those taste of coffee, peppermint, and – now that it’s fall - pumpkin spice. How does the rest of him taste, though?”

“Lord have mercy, who am I kidding? That’s no tingle, that’s a throb.”

In spite of herself, a small whimper escaped McKinley’s lips.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked, slowly turning to face her. “Are you worried about sensory overload at the party? You can take breaks inside Rossi’s house, everyone will underst- wow,” he exhaled, cutting himself off before lapsing into stunned silence.

Spencer closed the space dividing them, continuing to stare in awe. “No,” she thought, “it’s more than that. His eyes. He looks…hungry? Oh!”

McKinley felt heat creep up her cheeks as her gaze lowered to the floor, landing on Spencer’s shoes. “Yes, a distraction!” “Wow, yourself, Doc-tah,” she replied, laughing at her awful British accent as much as his outfit.

“I – what? Oh, that was unintentional,” he claimed, chuckling at his wardrobe choice. “What about you?” he asked, gesturing at her ensemble. “Deliberate or happy accident?”

McKinley glanced down. Her empire waist, A-line dress was a deep amethyst, her footed tights a snowy white, and her low heels an emerald green. “Ummm, it must’ve been stirring in my subconscious. Not exactly subtle, is it?”

“No, but when have you ever been subtle? It’s helpful, though; your candor removes the guesswork for me.” Spencer brought his hands to McKinley’s face and pulled her in for a kiss. It had more heat, she noted, than their previous ones. And tongue. And hand wandering. It also ended too quickly to suit her.

“Okay, time to go,” Spencer announced, grabbing McKinley’s hand and stepping towards the door; she, however, stayed rooted to the spot. “Uuum, give me a second?” She played for time under the pretense of checking her clutch.

“Most sexy to least sexy, that’s how Sarah says she ‘calms down.’ Think! Ah, Mick Jagger strutting on stage. He’s aesthetically beautiful and he exudes an air of confidence - that’s sexy. What next? Bleh, period bloat. The girls plump up, which is fun, but so does my belly. Least sexy? Oh, gross: the shower drain mold that refuses to die.”

McKinley turned to face Spencer. “I’m all set. Lead the way.”

“After you,” he replied, holding the door for her.

“There’s no mistaking it.” McKinley spotted him grinning mischievously in her peripheral vision. “He knows, and he’s teasing me.”

---

I originally called this “Cupcakes and Confessions,” which I feel is a cringeworthy title, not that “Beethoven and The Doctor” is any better. Anyway…I also edited this and added a huge chunk at the end.

Just for clarification, this snippet and the one to follow take place October 12, 2018. The team celebrated Reid’s 24th birthday in S1E4, “Plain Sight,” which aired October 12, 2005. S7E11, “True Genius,” which aired January 18, 2012, had them belatedly celebrating Boy Wonder’s 30th birthday. I’m going with an October birthday for Reid because, well, duh. I’m also keeping his age ambiguous.

Stories don’t need to be told chronologically, so I’ll be jumping around a little. The next part will cover the party and provide a lovely segue to the actual start of Spencer and the OC’s relationship.

Finally: drawing isn’t my strong suit, but I felt that the fic needed something extra.

[fluidsf]

Sonic Picks 36 Thematic selection: Mixture Approach: W - I artists remix tracks from the full W - I label catalogue using stems the label provided -> recycle, new tracks form from older sounds Various Artists: Worldwide Recycle Service 02 (2017) Reviewed format: ALAC download EP on W - I Catalogue number: WRS-02 Welcome back to Fluid Sonic Fluctuations after the holiday, I’m excited to share with you today the review of the first release from my new monthly themed personal selections of releases on physical and digital formats, which is the 2017 multi-artist EP Worldwide Recycle Service 02 on the label W - I. W - I was a label run by Oli XL until 2019, but he has recently followed the label up with a brand-new one, Bloom. But let’s focus on this release now and as you can notice from the mentions above, with this month’s selection having the theme of Mixture, Worldwide Recycle Service 02 definitely has many elements connected to Mixture in music. The concept of the Worldwide Recycle Service is that artists are invited to use stems from any previous release on W - I to use as source material for new pieces, thereby mix up and manipulate these sonic elements in their own way, on this second EP in the series the artists both remix music from others within new tracks as well as rework their own music or in one case have assembled a track from multiple sounds from the full label catalogue. Worldwide Recycle Service 02 comes as a nifty packed digital release on the Bloom Bandcamp page featuring the EP cover in good 2000x2000p resolution (JPEG) as well as the 4 EP tracks in lossless or lossy format. I’ve chosen ALAC as always and the 4 tracks have varying audio resolutions but all have good sound quality. For convenience, I’ll quickly list these here for your reference. 1 - 16-bit/44.1kHz, 2 - 16-bit/48kHz, 3, 4 - 24-bit/44.1kHz. The EP cover is quite minimalist but with a lovely red textured background over which the precise details of how the artists used their sonic material in the tracks are listed per track in black type. A sweet cover which looks both stylish and useful to reference. Now let’s move to the music itself. Right off the bat, Worldwide Recycle Service 02 jumped at me as a very pleasant listening experience and it’s great to start off the selection with such a quality release. The 4 tracks on this EP have an amazing consistency combined together as a whole, while the EP is only about 16 minutes long, the varied approach, rich sonic imagery and excellent sound play and energy all artists put into their music make this a very rewarding enjoyable listen. This EP certainly recalls Deconstructed Club types of sonic manipulations I’ve heard on Genot Centre and Quantum Natives releases I reviewed but these rather felt like pleasant textural references as the artists all have their own personal approach too, just like on the releases on the aforementioned two labels. On first track Mouthing (Recycled), KABLAM mixes samples from various tracks on W - I into a piece which starts off with mysterious Industrial like reverberated metallic percussive resonances and then moves into a nicely choppy glitched up groove full of scattered, clicking, wooden like percussion, heavy bassy and clicky kick patterns as well some lovely metallic clangs. The main focus of the piece is mostly the ever intensifying hectic percussion, synth and vocal chops and glitches which create jumpy kinetic rhythmic structures that also twirl and liquify at points through pitch manipulations. Like most pieces on this EP, Mouthing (Recycled) has a nice two part structure to it, in which KABLAM divides the track into two varying approaches to texture, though in this case the first part is obviously more of an intro to the percussion heavy longer second part of the track. KABLAM’s track is particularly strong in its fluid sculpting of hissy clicking sounds, but the fragmented way the melodic patterns float and scatter of the percussive organised chaos also give the piece a very Grimey kind of ambience and the resampled two note pattern has a lovely ring to its texture. A great start to this EP. After a quick fade-out we move to Drivers by Celyn June, which reworks parts of the EP Location. I couldn’t find a lot of info on the artists but it appears that the Celyn June recently stopped making music under that name. But besides that, the track itself is a great mixture of mysteriously melancholic ambience created by a layering of what sounds like affected piano samples with a rough phased edge, squeaking flute like synth tones, as well as a continuous bell like sound that sounds like the bell of a railway crossing. The mysterious but lush piece feels quite like a slightly twisted expression of picturing a tropical Japanese style garden overflowing with sunlight and filled with the sounds of birds, soft wind blowing through the trees, rustling of leaves, with hints of some hidden unknown threat being expressed by the rough edge of the affected piano samples and bursts of layered noise that occur in the beginning and ending of the piece. The subtly changing fragmented melodic phrases as well as rich sound design of the piece help to create a rich sonic picture mixing lush ambience with intriguing waves of eerie foreboding waves of sound. Afterwards we have N1L with his track Sub Zero which samples from multiple releases on the W - I. Sub Zero is much more Industrial than the tracks that came before on this EP. With a highly atmospheric yet also dense first half the piece begins with an awesome amalgamation of rattling, clanging, shifting distorted metallic Industrial percussion, space synth pads as well as some lovely hissy crunchy percussion hits full of dirt, a perfect combination of Industrial fuzz and deep ambience. In the second half of the track this fades out and moves towards a more minimalist percussion based section that features more Club like kick patterns and a buzzing auto panned metallic hi hat. The bit-crushed vocal sample of the first half returns here, but accompanying an assortment of richly detailed debris like Industrial percussion that’s a bit cleaner, the deep droning diffuse background drone gives the second half a serene like feel, also giving he more abrasive side of the percussion a more peaceful feel to it. This part does start of a bit more repetitive than the first half, but the expertly sculpted percussion sonics and inventive progression of the rhythmic patterns give this part some lovely details to dive into. The two way split of sonic approach of this piece makes it a really rewarding and surprising listen. On final track Rogue Idiot pt.2 Oli XL brings us a reinterpretation of his track Rogue Idiot from the Tracer Wanz EP. Starting with a bit of warped Plunderphonics style sample manipulations the track quickly moves into a very catchy and again bassy bouncy groove. The groove consists of some nicely hard hitting kick, snare rhythms, water like sounds, a bell like synth patterns, vocal chops and some cool bass synth pitch drops together with screechy phased synth stabs. Squeaky samples also feature in the track and the production sounds like a mixture of Deconstructed Club and Grimey synth influences. The bouncy groove stays quite straight in the first part of this track but with plenty of nice changes to keep the groove both danceable and interesting to listen to. In the second part of the track Oli XL chops up his groove more, adds awesome stutter and delay effects and ends the track with a solo of improvised sounding variations played by the bell synth. Rogue Idiot pt.2 ends the Worldwide Recycle Service 02 EP as an excellent bangin’ closer and its abstract approach blending contemporary Club sound design with serene melodic elements is another excellent piece of enjoyable music that rewards many repeated listens. So there you have it, Worldwide Recycle Service 02 is an excellent short but sweet EP of varied experimental grooves and ambiences on which the four artists craft some very rich and enjoyable rhythmic structures and sonic imagery. The tracks flow very well after each other forming a strong 16 minute selection of sonic goodness that is equally abstract electronics and Club oriented. This is definitely a great release for fans of psychedelic electronics, the more digital side of Industrial, Deconstructed Club and Bass Music too as its all represented in here. Worldwide Recycle Service 02 obviously also acts as a nice bridge for further exploration of the music by the 4 artists but also as an independent release it’s a fine EP and nice to add in a playlist alongside more abstract electronics or Club track. Go check it out, strongly recommended release. ALAC download EP is available from the Bloom (previously W - I) Bandcamp page here: https://blo-om.bandcamp.com/album/worldwide-recycle-service-02