#NINETEEN DAMMIT

[shayminlucario07]

This is probably going to sound dumb, and maybe it won’t age well. But I’m going to say it anyway, because it’s how I feel.

I want to feel like a teenager for the rest of my life. I want to hold onto the youthful, rebellious, confused, hurt, misunderstood, and unstoppable spirit of being a teenager for the rest of my life. I’m not scared of getting older- that just means new experiences, new skills, and a better understanding of the world AND myself. But as hellish as it can be at times- I never want to lose this feeling.

[wastefulreverie]

fixed point

“Would you like to know how much time you have left?” Clockwork asked.

Danny had never wished more that he’d died in something with pockets so he could hide his shaking hands. The endless ticking in the lair—hundreds of hands TICK TICK TICK -ing in perfect sync—had never sounded so ominous.

“I—” his voice rattled his throat, a raw thing “—I didn’t think you gave spoilers.”

With an absent spin of their staff, Clockwork shifted from adult to child and said nothing. Dread hung heavy in the air, Clockwork’s unblinking stare piercing through it all. Danny pointedly did not make eye contact. Instead focusing on the oscillating hands of the wall behind them.

He took a breath.

“Will it make it easier, knowing?”

Clockwork blinked once, face betraying nothing.

Dammit.

He wasn’t an idiot. There was really only one outcome of this conversation. Just as there had been the day he’d first pulled on his jumpsuit, walking—tripping—through the threshold. Life snuffed out of him in less than a second.

He brought his shaking hands together and met Clockwork’s even gaze.

And answered.

Thirteen days.

Seven hours.

Thirty-six minutes.

It was somehow both longer and shorter than he’d expected.

It was also a weight off his shoulders, at least in the beginning. It wouldn’t happen any earlier than the date Clockwork had recounted that night. Thirteen days of freedom. Peace. Liberation.

Because if he thought too much about the length of thirteen days, how three-hundred or so hours wasn’t enough time— it’s not fucking FAIR —he would be swallowed by the crushing anxiety that made its permanent home in his stomach.

So there was that.

He didn’t bother telling his friends. They were already all on edge, but if he could act like all was well he could ease their worries. Because ultimately they were just worried about him, and if he was fine they would be too.

He did, however, make contingency plans. Farewell videos on a USB drive taped to the underside of his bed.

He wanted Clockwork to be wrong. Some nights he laid awake, trying his damndest to find a way off this track. This self-fulfilling prophecy. But there was nothing. That moment had already passed with that stupid news broadcast that had glued him to the couch, shaking, as his parents had shouted and jeered at the screen. Dismissive. Furious. Invested.

They hadn’t noticed when he pushed himself off the couch and stumbled, shaking, to the bathroom to purge the contents of his stomach.

It was a miracle he’d only gotten a two-day suspension for slugging Wes in the face in front of the whole cafeteria. Even more so that no one had pieced it together from that.

No one saw him. But they would. When it was too late.

He couldn’t stop it. But as he didn’t acknowledge it in the waking world it wouldn’t exist. So he reserved his existential crises for when there was nothing to distract him from the looming, inevitable deadline.

He wished he could tell Mr. Lancer that whenever he was given detention that afternoon.

On the night of the twelfth day, he didn’t sleep a wink. No amount of coffee could keep his head above his desk that morning, and so, Danny spent his final hour in detention. He considered skipping. Detention was not the place for everything to come to an end.

But wouldn’t leaving—deviating from his normal routine—up the chances of putting events in motion?

Avoidance was his specialty, after all.

Jazz could write a paper on his coping tactics alone if she hadn’t already. 

At nineteen minutes Mr. Lancer stopped in front of his desk. It was only him and Valerie today, and she sat somewhere three desks behind and to his left of him. Her hair was in a loose ponytail, loose yellow sleeves draped over her hands. The bags under her eyes rivaled his own, even though he was sure there hadn’t been too many ghosts in the past week or so—but then again, he’d not been the most attentive to things on the ghost front lately. It was probably his fault she was here at all. 

“Mr. Fenton,” Lancer said. He forced his head to turn, a feat much more difficult than it sounded. His head felt full of lead. “Is everything alright at home?”

Danny forced himself not to cringe.

“Uh.” He ignored the sound of Valerie shifting in her seat behind him. Great. An audience. “Yes.”

“I’ve noticed you’ve been getting much less sleep of late, is all.”

Now this was a load of shit. Danny’s sleep schedule was normally trash. This current existential crisis was no more taxing than his normal night activities.

Lancer continued. “And your parents have—” he paused, eyes flitting somewhere behind him. “—in light of recent revelations, I just worry, Mr. Fenton.”

Hm.

Did he know, then?

Was this it?

Danny stared stupidly for a moment, forgetting to shut his mouth. And then shrugged.

Falling back on ignorance.

If he was honest, he hadn’t quite expected Lancer to be the one to put it together, but it also made sense. 

Lancer’s mouth thinned. “I know they can be intense, especially with the scrutiny placed on our school now. No one should feel scared to come to school. Or go home,” he said, letting the words hang in the air for a moment. “This is a safe space.”

For a moment all he could hear was the drum of his heart in his chest. And then behind him, Valerie cleared her throat.

“With all due respect, Mr. Lancer,” she said, “nowhere is safe with that putrid ghost hiding among us.”

Danny didn’t turn around. Lancer’s reaction was subdued, but there was a protective fire in his eyes that confirmed Danny’s suspicions. He wondered how long ago he’d put it together.

“Ms. Gray,” Lancer said, “I see your point, but I’m just trying to ease tensions.”

Danny checked the clock.

Seventeen minutes. 

Maybe he should’ve skipped detention after all.

(No escaping the inevitable. No do-overs this time.)

Valerie scoffed. “So what? We let our guard down?” he chanced a glance behind him, and Valerie’s eyes were red-rimmed—from lack of sleep or otherwise he had no idea. “Someone here is a walking weapon and we’re supposed to ignore this? Fenton at least knows he’ll be safe at home, but what about the rest of us? We don’t get to go home to ghost-hunting parents—we have to hold our own.”

Lancer nodded. “I understand. I just think that it’s very frightening for all of us, ghost hunters or not.”

Danny’s voice cracked when he spoke. “Yeah.”

Valerie’s expression softened. “I didn’t mean to make light—”

“No. No, you’re right,” he said. “It’s not safe with Phantom as a student here. Whoever he is.”

She sighed. “Danny, I don’t know what it’s like with your parents, but—”

“But what?” he cut her off. “Because they’re ghost hunters they’re automatically the safest people in the room?” He lowered his voice. “You would think that.”

She froze. “What does that mean?”

Hm. Whoops.

“People don’t know what it’s like, I guess.”

Danny turned back around. Lancer’s stare was dripping with sympathy.

Fifteen minutes.

There was a scrape of a chair, a thud of feet, and a warm hand on his shoulder. Valerie released him just as fast. When he met her eyes, they were as wide as saucers.

“D—Danny,” she said with a note of panic. “You’re cold.”

“Yeah?” he asked.

She took a step back. He hadn’t seen her this scared since they’d been stranded on Skulker’s island together. He could see the realization dawning. 

“Val,” he said, knowing full well what was going through her head, “what’s wrong?”

“It’s not you,” she said, a desperate plea. “I can’t be this stupid.”

He sighed and Lancer stepped between them.

“Ms. Gray,” he said, “now let’s not jump to conclusions—”

“No!” she shook her head. “No, no, no! It doesn’t make sense. You’re—your parents hunt ghosts. Hunt Phantom.”

Danny crossed his arms.

“So do you.”

Lancer looked between them like Danny had announced that he liked eating golf balls. “What.”

Tears welled in Valerie’s eyes. “I trusted you!”

The minute hand inched forward.

Fourteen.

“You trusted me to what?”

Valerie clenched her fists. “Don’t do that! Don’t play stupid!”

“Ms. Gray—”

“I’m not playing.” Danny turned sideways in his desk, facing her head-on. “Tell me what you think I’ve done, Val.”

“Mr. Fenton—!”

“You replaced him. You replaced Danny. How long have you been pretending to be him? To be alive? How can you live with yourself, going home everyday and seeing his parents and—and—acting like you’re still—” she choked on her tears. “You terrorize this town, Phantom. I won’t let you take anything else from me, or anyone.”

Lancer’s eyes were wide. He’d never seen the man so shocked, in such foreign territory.

Valerie, on the other hand, was resolute. There was as much determination in her face as tears.

“I’m still me,” he said. “I died, but I came back. I never replaced myself, however that works. I am sorry, Val. There’s a lot that—”

“Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up! ”

“—that I didn’t mean to happen.”

Lancer slammed his hand on Danny’s desk.

“Can we all settle down!”

It all happened in a matter of seconds. The clock in his peripheral kept him tethered to the moment. 

Valerie reached behind her and pulled a blaster.

A flash of red—

(The minute hand moves.

Thirteen.)

—and a burst of hot pain through his side.

He crumpled forward, his head meeting the linoleum floor with a SMACK and somewhere above him a distant shout.

Everything from his side to his cranium THROBBED and it wouldn’t fucking stop.

(He’d taken hits from Val before. This shouldn’t hurt so much. Why does this—?)

Iron pooled in his mouth. 

Oh right.

Ectoplasm was thicker than blood.

Danny tried to push himself up from the floor but the world spun and his arms gave out below him and he slumped back down to the cold, hard floor.

The floor felt better.

Maybe he would…

Stay here for a while…

***

The television clicked on. A rerun of the six o’clock news.

He didn’t let Jazz turn it off.

“According to a recent report, there is speculation that our local ghost vigilante Phantom might be living among us. Care to tell us more, Lance?”

“Yes, Tiffany.” Lance Thunder’s stupid blonde hair was polished and perfect as usual and he wanted to wipe that stupid half-smile off the bastard’s face. “A ghost ID’ed as Walker —” at this, a crude picture that was mostly just a white blur appeared on the screen “— has publicly announced that our hero is a student at Casper High fooling us, flying under the radar.”

“And as far as we understand, tips from ghosts aren’t verifiable…?”

“Normally, yes, but there is evidence to suggest that—”

“This isn’t good for you,” Jazz hissed. “I know that it’s scary, but—”

“Exposure therapy,” he snapped back. “It’s gonna be the talk of the school anyway.”

She slumped back down onto the couch. “Take care of yourself.”

The door to the lab was thrown open. His parents marched through the kitchen and into the living room, perfectly eclipsing the TV.

“—telling you, Jack. The DNA scans are inconclusive at best. Their so-called ‘experts’ are out of their depths.”

“We’ll show them once and for all. If we can find out which student it’s using as cover—”

“—we’ll expose Phantom for the monster he is!”

His parents disappeared upstairs for the night, but he could still hear snippets of their vows to destroy him. 

He shot Jazz a tired look. “Easier said than done.”

***

Someone was touching him.

Everything on his left burned. Far above him were LEDs and beige ceiling tiles. He wasn’t sure when he’d been rolled onto his back. But he was now, and someone was pressing down on the spot that burned burned burned—!

Blood trickled down his throat.

How many minutes had it been?

How many did he have left?

There were voices, somewhere, but everything sounded like it was underwater. Maybe it was. Drowning would be preferable to many of the other deaths he’d prepared for. Still terrible, sure, but vivisection lowered the bar considerably. 

“—have you done!”

“He’s—” A girl’s voice wavered, quiet. “He’s Phantom. He’s not supposed to—to—”

Wow. Valerie had the decency to sound ashamed.

At least he could die knowing that his killer at least had a few shreds of regret.

(Is it sad that it’s more than he expected?)

“—little first aid.” The pain came in waves, and all Danny could hear was the rush of his stupid heart in his ears. “—expecting shootings in America, but not from a—” 

Just as fast as it came, the world melted away. His last grasp on consciousness slipped away.

(As fast as the click of a button.)

***

Wes had a punchable face.

But hey—that’s what you get for talking to the press. The accusations were written off as pretty baseless, but the damage had been done. He got inquisitive stares now and again. After all, Wes was a joke, but his interview put Danny’s name on the list of suspects and that was enough to fuck his entire life over.

After his two-day suspension, Danny had little opportunity to survey his work. Honestly, more people asked him about how bad he fucked up Wes’s face than whether or not he was Phantom.

(From what he had seen, it was in a perpetual state of purple and that was enough to curb his anger for now.)

So. He had two days off from school.

Danny went to see Clockwork.

Long Now welcomed him with welcome arms, and he broke down into a fit of whines and gripes about how it seemed like everyone was out to get him, that everyone wanted to put his head on a pike. Everyone wanted to ferret out the wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Clockwork shared their sympathies.

“No matter what I do, I just—I’m a wreck. I think someone’s figured it out. That they know, but then I mention it to Jazz or Sam or Tucker and I’m just paranoid and I think I’m paranoid now and—” he groaned. “I don’t know what to do. I’m losing my mind.”

“You do know that it’s inevitable that the truth comes to light.”

He froze. “What.”

Clockwork shifted from senior to adult. “Your paranoia isn’t for naught. It’s a matter of time.”

No. This couldn’t be happening.

He’d figure a way out.

There had to be something.

“I thought nothing was inevitable.”

“Not nothing,” Clockwork hummed. “Often, it is nothing. But not this time.”

Their words shook him to the core. He’d suspected it, sure, but confirmation was—

“I know it isn’t fair.”

“Don’t tell me what is and isn’t fair!” Danny snapped. “Your entire life isn’t—isn’t under scrutiny for everyone. If they know that I’m me, I—”

He pressed his hands to his chest.

He would be finished.

One way or another, someone would find a way to put him on their table.

The government.

His parents.

Maybe someone else out for his blood.

(His body.)

“I can’t see what will happen past them learning the truth,” Clockwork said. “But it is a fixed point. Everything past that diverges, a thousand roads. Timelines. Possibilities. I can’t tell you what to expect. The best, the worst. I cannot offer that reassurance.”

“Oh.”

They nodded. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“I don’t want them to find out,” he said in a pathetic whine.

For a long moment, Clockwork said nothing. If not for the constant ticking of clocks, he would have thought they were frozen. But then Clockwork’s expression shifted.

And they asked: 

“Would you like to know?” 

***

…

……

………

Warbled voices were around him again. Different.

But this time more in focus.

“Sir, Ma’am, if you could leave the room—”

“I will NOT. That is my son, and I am not leaving until someone tells me why there is a HOLE in his chest—!”

And somewhere else, a shriek of sobs.

“We’re transporting him to the hospital, you can’t—”

“I did it,” said that same, sobbing voice. “I shot him. I shot him.”

More people were touching him and Danny didn’t like it oh god no no no —

“—get him on the stretcher—”

“—the hell DID you—”

“—Ms. Gray, you—”

“—no! I want to know why—”

“—securing him, just—”

And now time did slow.

The EMTs lifted the stretcher.

And his face lolled to the side, giving him a clear view of the clock.

The minute hand moved one last time.

Just as:

“I didn’t mean to! I didn’t—he’s Phantom, I didn’t think that it would—!” Valerie, cut off, sobbing. “I’m so sorry, Danny. If you can hear me, I’m so sorry.”

And then there was silence.

Crushing darkness.

***

If he had any last doubts that his secret was out, they were snuffed out when he woke up in the hospital to the pained faces of his parents. Jazz was in the chair to his left, hair mussed up and asleep. His parents’ eyes were red with tears. In his delirium, he also noticed Sam’s backpack discarded in the corner.

How long had—?

“Two days.”

Clockwork appeared before him in their adult form. They swung their staff, looking rather pleased with themselves. Danny then realized the occupants of the room had been frozen as long as he’d been awake. 

“You’re recovering well, all considered.” Clockwork tapped a clipboard on a nearby table. “I will say, I am surprised that we took this route. It is what you might call a ‘spoiler,’ but it’s kinder than most.”

“Is it,” he said, voice hoarse.

Clockwork waited for him to finish coughing up his lungs before speaking again. “They’re handling it as best they can. I won’t say it’s great, but you’re on the way there.”

“I—what happened, again?”

And as he asked, it came rushing back.

Lancer. Valerie.

And paramedics?

Clockwork gave him a knowing smile. “Your teacher called an ambulance. In his panic, he might have let it slip that you were having a reaction because of a ghost weapon, and your parents were looped into the call.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Danny’s eyes found his frozen heart monitor, time stopped between beats. Below, his mother had tied off the top half of her HAZMAT suit and was wearing a black shirt beneath. He did notice that the contents of her weapons belt were emptied.

He turned back to Clockwork. “How did they take it?”

They shrugged. “Why don’t you ask them?”

“Wait—wait, I'm not ready.”

“How about this? I tell you how much time you have left.” They raised their staff. “Three—”

“Clockwork—”

“Two—”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Time in.”

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Puppy Fight: Chaggie ft. Emily

Puppy Love part 3 / Jazzercise part 2

Charlie: (hyping herself up and shadow boxing as she walks into the new hotel gym) Alright! I got this! I've been working on my cardio. Just a few more sessions before- *SCREEEEEEEEEECH!!!!*

Vaggie: (wearing even shorter spandex shorts than last time, wrist wraps, and her sports bra, grunting as she works through a set of Muscle Ups, body absolutely slick with sweat) Eighteen!!!..... Gah, fuck! .......Nineteen!!!

Emily: (hair tied up in a messy bun, powder blue, long sleeve, skin tight exercise shirt, and navy blue shorts that cut off just below her glutes) Come on, Vaggie! You got this! One more!

Vaggie: (takes a deep breath, scowls as she grits her teeth, and nearly roars as she muscles her way up and over the bar into a full extension) Twenty!!!

Emily: (jumps and squeals excitedly) Woohoo! You did it! (makes another check on a whiteboard) That's three rounds of twenty muscle ups, fifty mountain climbers, and 100 jump-ropes!

Vaggie: (drops to the floor with a sigh, wipes her face with her black sweat rag, and takes a drink of water) Thanks for helping me push through, Emily. I was kind of surprised you even showed up. Charlie didn't have another group exercise planned for a couple more days when the next meeting with Heaven came up.

Emily: (staring bashfully at Vaggie's muscles) Oh! Well, you know! I figured it would be good to come down early! You know. Catch up with Charlie. (eyes scour over Vaggie's abs and shoulders) See the sights.

Vaggie: (suddenly feeling a little naked) Riiiiiiiiight.... Well, I'm gonna go hit the showers. Thanks again for the help. (quickly jogs towards the door and stops as she sees Charlie) Hey, Babe! I didn't know you were going to be working out today. You should have said something. I would have waited for you. (shifts her eye back at Emily)

Emily: (awkwardly looks around to make sure she isn't being watched before she sneakily takes the sweat rag Vaggie left behind)

Vaggie: (whispering back to Charlie with a slight blush and a wink) We could have shared a shower after.

Charlie: (heart throbs painfully) Dammit! How did I not think of that before now?!

Vaggie: (chuckles before kissing Charlie lightly on the cheek) Another time. I'll be sure to save you some hot water. Love you. (slips through the door and jogs up to their room)

Charlie: Love you too~ (eyes dart to Emily as soon as the door closes and she zips over to the pull up bars with a smile painfully plastered on her face) Hi, Emily!

Emily: Yipe! (jumps and hides Vaggie's rag behind her back) Oh! H-Hi, Charlie! H-How are you?

Charlie: I'm good. I'm good. (obviously not good as her tail slithers along the floor behind her like a snake ready to strike) I wasn't expecting to see you for a few days.

Emily: Oh! Yeah, well, l-like I told Vaggie. I figured I'd come down a little early so we could catch up!

Charlie: (sickly sweet tone) Well, what better way to catch up and build a bond than by exercising together?! (wraps an arm around Emily's shoulder tightly and leads her over to the treadmills) How about it, Emily? I'm sure you guys up in Heaven exercise all the time!

Emily: (balks) Actually, Charlie, I'm suddenly not feeling the greatest. I think I got teleportation sickness.

Charlie: Then a light jog should help you get that good airflow that you need. (pushes Emily on a treadmill and takes the one right next to her before turning them both on and ramping up the incline and speed to 5/10 and 6/10) This should be a good warmup, right?

Emily: eeep!

-Later-

Charlie: (sitting and soaking her dead legs in an ice bath with a whine-growl)

Vaggie: (brings in a protein shake and hands it to Charlie) And what did we learn?

Charlie: (growling and baring her teeth like an angry puppy as she takes the shake) To mark every last inch of your skin the week Emily arrives. (all sad and sappy) She's still my friend! (back to snarling as she takes a sip of her drink) But she needs to remember that you're MINE!!!

Vaggie: (blushing) ......Did I completely miss something?

-In one of the guest rooms-

Emily: (whimpering as she soaks her noodle legs in a hot bath) Owie.... (stares at the sweat rag on the bathroom sink) ......*sigh* Worth it. I'll have to apologize to Charlie later. I think she liked those rainbow sprinkles back in Heaven.

[hoonvrs]

CIGARETTES

extra: did life360 tell you that.

EIGHTEEN < MASTERLIST> NINETEEN

S. NOTES FIRST EXTRAA AHHH

SYNOPSIS where university student jake develops a little crush on the girl he sees with a cigarette between her lips in the smoking area and decides he needs to impress her. how else would he do that except calling his smoker friend to teach him how to smoke ( spoiler: it doesn’t go so well. )

TAGLIST ( OPEN ) @yeokii @yenqa @wonpoem @stariszn @beomgyusonlywife @isoobie @enhaz1 @fakeuwus @marybboooooooo @a-l-i-y-a @rodygr @glitterssim @mrchweeee @keikeu @chiiiiiiiiis @idubiluv @rayray22222 @deobitifull @aylin-hijabi @hyhees @weird-bookworm @dammit-jjk @lacieeeeee00 @xiaoderrrr @donghyckl @minl0u @en-dream @babyillneverleavelwt @junityy @seongclb @shawnyle @yueriots @cb97mylove @sngvhs @manooffline @bbangricz @kjrcrz @imsiriuslyreal @jaehyunsblkgf @jlheon @mariji @jaysdze @rikisly @en-happiness @treasxreblue @soomelon @jungwonderz @erehkinnie30 @ilovehimyourhonour

[apocalypseornaw]

Wanna be Yours (Pt 2/5)

Sam Winchester x Reader

Sam's starting to develop feelings for you, the problem? He's certain you and Dean are something

@lacilou 's idea

Sam watched you out the corner of his eye. You were sitting cross legged in the middle of Dean's bed in the most recent motel the three of you had stopped at. You'd gotten this case first and had called him and Dean in for the assist. You'd ran across a rather large nest and they were dropping bodies fast.

You had vials of dead man's blood laid out around you and were sharpening machetes. Dean had went to do a quick drive by of the place the nest was held up in which left just you and Sam. The plan was simple, the three of you go in and clear them out then hit the road.

You glanced up after a moment and smiled when you caught his eye. After Hayley's death you and him had become fairly decent friends, you'd call him when you needed to talk about the heavy stuff and he'd confided some things about his own losses.

You were one of the smartest hunters he'd ever met, beautiful and sarcastic enough to rival Dean. You were sweet to those you cared about and any victims you ran across but also fierce as hell when it came down to it. He was beginning to feel things he thought had been buried with Jess, the problem? You were Dean's.

The two of you weren't overly obvious and maybe not even exclusive but the way you two were around each other? You and Dean moved as a unit on hunts, not having to speak to seemingly know what the other wa thinking, he'd say it was a thing of beauty if he wasn't jealous on some level.

He hadn't meant to develop feelings for you, he truly hadn't but it was nearly impossible being in close quarters with you and not.

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

You defended him at moments Dean had doubted him, when he got hurt on a hunt you'd patch him up and at bars you'd drag him out on the dance floor laughing like a mad woman when Dean would tease "C'mon Y/N! Don't break Sammy"

He would say he wished he'd met you first but considering you met Dean when you both were nineteen, that wouldn't have changed anything since that would've put him and fifteen.

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

He hadn't realized he'd sighed aloud until you spoke his name. He looked up again and you smiled "You good honey? Kind of need your head in the game. Me nor Dean would want anything happening to you"

He nodded "Yeah Y/N, I'm good. I promise" you didn't seem to fully believe him but nodded nonetheless "Ok, ya know you can talk to me. I might not be Dean but I do care about you too" that made him smile more genuinely "I know" before either of you could say anything the door opened and Dean can walking in "Y/N, sweetheart you know how to pick cases don't ya?"

Sam fell back while you and Dean went back and forth teasing each other about past hunts gone weird. The banter between you and his older brother was so damn easy. After a minute you let out a whistle and when he looked up you were standing a little in front of him holding his machete out handle first "Freshly sharpened Mister Winchester" "Thanks Y/N"

"Dammit" you grunted under your breath. There were a few more vamps than you or Dean had thought. "CIRCLE UP" Dean shouted. You and him knew how to move together on hunts as did him and Sam so it was becoming a natural thing for the three of you to move together. The best plan for a nest this large? Keep a tight circle and don't let any between the three of you and make heads roll.

You reached out with your left hand and felt Sam's shoulder. "Well cmon then!" A flurry of movement came next. You would place bets on the three of you over anything, any day.

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

Within a few heartbeats the last vamps head was separated from its body and rolling across the floor. You leaned over with your hands on your thighs looking over the carnage surrounding you, blood was smeared across your face but it wasn't yours. You did a quick visual once over of both Winchesters, clocking the bruising starting on Sam's face and Dean favoring his side because him and you both had caught a decent kick to the gut.

All in all the three of you had faired decently enough "Well boys I say we skedaddle a couple counties over and grab some motel rooms then grab some food or some alcohol" "Or both?" Dean added and you winked at him "Reading my mind again Winchester. Tell ya what? I'll race ya for the county line. Winner picks the restaurant and the bar" "On you're on!" He laughed.

Sam shook his head "We gotta clean up after this first you two" you pointed towards him "and that's why he's the Stanford boy. He remembers shit we forget about too quickly" he grinned at your words as the three of you started arranging the bodies to torch the place.

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

You stumbled when you grabbed a large body and nearly fell, had Sam not lurched forward to grab you before you could face plant in a puddle of blood. You braced one hand against his chest and he had an arm around your waist to steady you.

You raised an eyebrow at him before saying "Well damn Sam knew you were cute but didn't know you had the whole Disney prince sweep em off their feet thing going on" and was rewarded with a light blush gracing his cheeks before he said "It helps when the princess is slipping on vampire blood" you laughed at the quick come back "Good point"

Dean walked in the room and chuckled "Well what do we have here" Sam looked from you to Dean, his eyes widening "She slipped. I just caught her before she fell.." he made sure you were steady on your feet then quickly let go of you. He grabbed the body you slipped on and disappeared from the room before you or Dean could ask why he was acting weird.

@lacilou

@foxyjwls007

@nelachu2423

[thiccowlladylife]

So, I lied about soon. Sorry!

Anyways thoughts on Unhappy Campers...

Good:

Nurse at the beginning being a decent plus-sized design and not taking Blitzø's shit? Chef's kiss (She looks like a Rebecca. I'mma call her Rebecca from now on)

Little aquatic sinner dude design is cool. Plus, he seems chill!

What's this??? Millie finally gets some character development? Holy shit!

Barbie Wire debut! And she still hates Blitzø by the end of the episode, justifiably so!

No real Loona scenes and/or Stolas.

Bad:

Why is that sinner dude in hell? What did this guy do to end up in hell? Unless the whole shtick is that heaven is way too strict that almost no one gets in (and that's why hell as an overpopulation problem in HH, which leads to a whole other issue I'm not gonna start on here)

Also, I don't think the sinner dude specified he wanted his killer killed? He just wanted to know who did it? So why is Moxxie/Millie so determined to kill him? (Also, we never see the prices that IMP sets for their hits)

The entire premise of the camp guise. Why is Moxxie so petty about doing this whole routine when he's always been the efficient one before? (Although, I'm certain the only reason they "solved" the identity of the killer immediately instead of making the whole episode a who-dunnit has to deal with my next point...)

Speaking of the guise, the hired assassins doing drag to infiltrate a kid/preteen camp and harassing the campers the entire episode (with really gross sexual undertones the entire time)... really underscores bad stereotypes and paranoia bigots espouse about drag performers and trans people, too, to a lesser extent. They only barely saved their asses by making it obvious early on that the target wasn't a camper so they wouldn't have the implication that these "drag performers" were possibly going to kill a child on top of grossly harassing them for a week.

And... Barbie is a p*d*philic groomer... god dammit (bUt hE'S nINEteEn... then make it obvious in the actual episode dipshits and don't cover your asses in a twitter post viewers might never see)!

And... Vivzie is really leaning into incest jokes now... god fucking dammit... Combining it with drag too... Fan-fucking-tastic!

Also, RIP Millie's character development. Completely destroyed as soon as it was built up in the slightest.

All that's left is Fizzarolli/Asmodeus and Mammon episodes... then I think I'm tapping out. I can't deal with this series anymore...

And I swear the Fizzarolli/Asmodeus episode review is coming soon... for real this time!

[ready-for-take-off]

Responsible Adult (NCT Jisung)

(Crossposted to AO3 here)

Request: Maybe Jisung sick with stomach pain but he hides it from the members because he thinks that not being the maknae he needs to behave like a responsible adult. But in the end his pain is very intense and he gets sick in his room and on himself, so his hyungs take care of him and pamper him, especially Taeyong and Chenle.

Summary: Jisung wakes up feeling off. When his stomach starts to hurt during a full-group dance practice, he tries his best to hide how he’s feeling from the members, afraid that he’s going to get coddled. He ends up getting sick at home, but Chenle comes to his rescue and even calls Taeyong for backup. The day ends with lots of comfort and an important lesson learned.

A/N: I couldn’t quite bring myself to write the part where he gets sick on himself—emeto is chill to me until it gets to the loss of control part. Nevertheless, hope you enjoy! Jisung and Taeyong are definitely the best sickie and caretaker in NCT respectively imo. SIDE NOTE—check out NCT Dream’s new comeback Dream()Scape, Jisung stands out so much in it!

Jisung was an adult.

No matter how much his members, his fans, heck , even his family liked to treat him like he’d exited the womb two second ago, he was a full-grown adult, dammit. It was harmless fun most of the time, until he realized that he couldn’t mention feeling even the slightest bit unwell out of fear that his members would start coddling him again. Last time he’d been injured, his members treated him like he was made of glass even months after he’d recovered. He shuddered just thinking about it. Never again, especially now that there were even younger members who looked up to him as a seasoned idol and not a cute baby.

But today, he had a small dilemma. He’d woken up the slightest bit groggy—no big deal, he could handle it. Though, come to think of it, he hadn’t felt very hungry at breakfast, but he hadn’t thought anything of that either. It didn’t matter if he would have to go the whole day feeling dizzy and weak—it wasn’t like he had anything important to do, aside from a brief dance run-through. It was hardly a practice, and not to brag, but he’d nailed the choreography ages ago. It was no big deal, right? He’d just act okay for half an hour and then resign to his room for the rest of the day. He was a responsible adult, the least he could do was show up.

Jisung regretted that decision when he entered the practice room and was immediately reminded that oh , this was nineteen other guys in the same practice room. Nineteen extremely loud guys. He could hardly keep his thoughts in order when there were at least five different conversations going on at any given time, punctuated by hysterical laughter and occasional screeches (whatever that was for, he didn’t really want to know), and suddenly he felt like the most mature person in the room.

“Jisungie, you okay?” Chenle asked casually, patting Jisung on the back. He’d somehow snuck up behind Jisung and he hadn’t heard it because of the sheer noise echoing in the room.

Truth was, he didn’t feel particularly great. On top of general malaise, his stomach was beginning to hurt, and he couldn’t quite pinpoint if it was due to hunger, stress, or sickness. The latter of which he pushed to the back of his mind—if he didn’t think he was sick, he couldn’t really be sick, right?

“Uh. I’m fine, I guess?” Jisung replied hesitantly, stiffening a little. He didn’t want anyone to find out he wasn’t feeling well, no, not when everyone was there.

“If you say so,” Chenle shrugged. Jisung was taken aback when the older boy squinted and made the “I’m watching you” motion with his hands as he walked to his position. What could he possibly have meant by that? Honestly, his members showed concern in the weirdest of ways sometimes.

Jisung didn’t utter a single word for the rest of that dance practice, channeling his energy into staying upright and passing off as okay. It was a hard job as the small ache in his stomach slowly turned into a full-blown fire.

When the run-through was finally over, Jisung begged his legs to keep him standing upright as he wanted nothing more than to just collapse on the floor (and writhe around, but maybe that was a bit dramatic). It wasn’t unusual for the members to sit down after an intense dance practice, but he couldn’t afford to do so today, not when it would provoke even more concern. Well, it seemed that he was provoking concern either way.

“You feeling alright, maknae?” Taeyong had approached him almost the exact same way Chenle had earlier, only with a bit more formality, and Jisung almost jumped as the leader’s firm hand landed on his shoulder. It was beginning to grow scary at this point—either his members had incredible intuition or he was terrible at hiding how he felt. Probably a mix of the two.

“…yes?” Jisung responded, voice coming out much smaller than he intended. He cleared his throat and responded properly. “Yes, hyung.”

Taeyong smiled, patting the younger’s shoulder. “Great, but I just wanted to check because you seemed a little down today,” he explained. “How’s life been treating you lately? I know we’ve all been so busy.”

“It’s been fine, I guess,” Jisung mumbled behind his mask. “Thank you, hyung. By the way. For asking,” he added out of respect, stuttering slightly.

“You don’t have to thank me, Jisungie. And that’s great to hear,” Taeyong chuckled. “Just tell me or one of the Dreamies if something is wrong, okay?” He held up his hand for a fistbump of agreement, which Jisung accepted.

“Oh, and if Mark and Haechan bother you too much, let me know,” Taeyong added, winking and poking Jisung’s shoulder playfully.

As Jisung smiled and turned away to grab his bag, he nearly keeled over as his stomach made itself known once again with a harsh cramp. He bent over, disguising it as reaching for his bag, and let his face scrunch up in pain for a second as he breathed through it. This was certainly something not to be ignored.

By the time he reached home, Jisung was hardly functioning. He felt like he could drift off any second but was kept awake by the agonizing twisting of his stomach, and the conflicting signals only served to make him feel sicker.

Deciding to take charge for himself, Jisung gathered what energy he had to grab himself a glass of water which he brought to his room and promptly forgot about as he curled up in bed. Tears threatened to spill out of his eyes as he gritted his teeth and clutched his stomach tightly. It hurt so much, and he just wanted someone to be there, to know that he wasn’t feeling well, and for a second he regretted keeping quiet.

Jisung almost gave in and reached for his phone to text someone to come over, until he reminded himself that the whole reason he was alone was because he wasn’t a baby. Oh well. Most grown adults could handle a little stomach ache on their own anyways.

This was hardly a little stomach ache, though. He could physically feel the pain twisting deep in his core, and it hurt like nothing else he’d ever felt before. Curling up with his knees to his chest seemed to be the only thing that relieved some of the pressure, along with keeping both hands wrapped around his middle. An intense cramp finally sent Jisung over the edge, and he had to reach up and wipe away the tears that had slid across his face.

A ding resounded from Jisung’s phone and he hesitantly picked it up, sniffling. The text gracing the top of the screen was from Chenle, notifying Jisung that he would be coming over in a minute for “no particular reason”. At that moment, it turned out that Chenle’s weird habit of always being strangely available for strange reasons came in luck, and Jisung took a moment to mentally thank the elder for being his savior. Sure, it meant he would get babied, but if it didn’t happen by his own volition then it practically didn’t count.

Jisung almost wanted to relax because the notification settled his mind so much, but there was another problem. His stomach now felt like it was in his throat, and he couldn’t move out of fear it would end badly. But he knew it would also end badly if he didn’t move, now .

He propped himself up as slowly as he could, hand sinking into his bed as his elbow straightened shakily. His other hand, which was starting to shake too, was pressed tightly against his mouth as his mind raced, saying no, it won’t happen when it definitely would.

He gagged slightly into his palm and immediately his eyes widened— this really was happening. His legs, trained by a lifetime of dancing, propelled him across the room so he could fling open the bathroom door just in time to cough and retch up what little he had eaten into the toilet. “ Help,” he choked out between retches, to no one in particular, as he cried from both the pain and the fear that this was really happening to him, that he was losing control of himself just like that.

The timing proved itself even more impeccable as Jisung’s ears were met with the squeal of a door and a certain hyung’s screeching voice, which was the sound of an angel descended from heaven to Jisung right now.

“Jisungie, you seemed really off earlier today and wouldn’t tell me what was wrong so I came ‘cause why not,“ Chenle blabbered as his footsteps approached Jisung’s room, pattering around to search for the maknae. Jisung groaned to signify his location, which Chenle heard and promptly found.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Chenle gasped, kneeling down beside the younger and rubbing circles on his back. “What happened?”

“M’ stomach hurts so much,” Jisung cried, hiccuping and sniffling, which only served to set off his stomach more as more liquid was sent surging up his throat. “H-help me, hyung , m-make it stop!” he sobbed futilely.

“Shhh, you’re okay, I’m here,” Chenle cooed into Jisung’s ear, breath warm against his neck. “Breathe for me, baby.” It was a sweet gesture, but Jisung could hardly focus on the words over the sobs shaking his body and the stabbing pain assaulting his stomach.

Jisung thought he heard the sound of a phone making a call, and he made out snippets of Chenle’s voice over his own crying— “ Jisungie’s sick… come over… okay, see you soon. ”

“Wh-who’s that?” Jisung stuttered between breath hitches.

“Taeyong-hyung is coming to help you, baby,” Chenle reassured. “You aren’t stuck with just me,” he added, chuckling. “I know I’m not much help.”

There was a knock on the door, and Chenle scampered off to answer it. He returned with a very concerned-looking Taeyong in tow.

“Jisungie, baby, how are you feeling?” Taeyong asked sympathetically, kneeling on the floor without hesitation and rubbing the boy’s shoulders gently. “Turns out you really aren’t alright, huh,” he sighed. “I should’ve noticed.”

Jisung tried to respond, but his body didn’t seem capable of forming words at the moment and he only gave a pitiful moan before he was sent back into a fit of sickness.

“Whoa, Jisungie. You’re really sick,” Taeyong grimaced, rubbing the poor maknae’s back as he threw up again. He did so until Jisung’s stomach finally stopped rebelling and he let his head drop, panting.

“Is it just an upset tummy, baby?” Taeyong asked gently, patting the younger’s tight stomach and eliciting a brief wince from Jisung, who nodded shyly in response. He was getting babied again, but he couldn’t deny that it felt good to have someone care from him. Especially if it was the most reliable person he knew.

“My guess is that your body is just trying to get rid of something icky you ate earlier,” Taeyong sighed, standing up with a grunt. “Alright, Jisungie. You feeling ready to get up?”

Jisung hesitantly took the elder’s hand and pulled himself up in a way that took the least effort from his abdominal muscles. He curled up in his bed, whimpering in pain, as Taeyong slipped into the kitchen in search of anything useful.

“Wellll…” Chenle piped up, dragging out the syllable. “I knew I’d be useless at actually taking care of you, so it’s great that Taeyong-hyung could come by,” he laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “But I can keep you company,” he added, more softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Tummy hurts,” Jisung murmured quietly, fully aware of how pitiful he looked, curled up in bed with tears streaking his face. “I hate being sick so much.”

“You should’ve said something before it got this bad,” Chenle sighed, plopping down on the bed and stroking Jisung’s stomach gently.

“But you guys would have fussed over me,” Jisung countered defensively. “ Ah - what are you doing-“

Chenle released his fingers from the playful pinch he had on Jisung’s abdomen, snickering shamelessly. “Jisungie, you’re a lot worse at acting fine than you think you are. We would have fussed over you anyways.”

“Fair,” Jisung sighed. “But it just feels weird for me to ask for help now. I mean, I’m supposed to be a responsible adult and I’m technically not even the maknae anymore.”

“Jisungie, asking for help is a part of life. Why do you think I called Taeyong-hyung just now? Because I knew I couldn’t take care of a sick person myself— heck, I don’t even know what he’s looking for in the kitchen. It’s okay to admit that you can’t do something yourself. It doesn’t make you any less of an adult.”

Jisung’s eyes stung at the sound of his hyung’s wise words. “R-really?” he sniffled.

“Yes, baby,” Chenle cooed. “And for the record, you’ll always be the maknae to us. Now come here, you,” he added playfully as he cozied up next to the younger. Jisung couldn’t hold back the soft smile that crept up his face as Chenle ruffled his hair incessantly. Maybe being babied wasn’t so bad after all.

The whole time, Taeyong just stood watching in the doorway, using the hand that wasn’t holding various medications and home remedies to wipe his teary eyes. His kids really had grown up so well.

[anonymousewrites]

One Hell of a Love (Book 2) Chapter Nineteen

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader

Chapter Nineteen: One Hell of a Corpse

Summary: Sebastian and (Y/N) face a reanimated corpse and the truth of what the Aurora Society was up to.

            Ciel, (Y/N), and Sebastian regarded the reanimated corpse of Margaret warily. Even though she was a human body brought back, her resilience was greater now than during life. (Y/N) and Sebastian’s initial attack had garnered no results.

            “ ‘Aurora Society’s resurrection of the dead—occult it may not be.’ ” Ciel narrowed his eyes. “I never for a moment thought what Lau said would turn out to be true!”

            “Dammit, a failure, eh?” Stoker huffed in frustration as if this was just a dog that didn’t learn a trick right, not a creature that tore out a human’s throat. He glanced at his men. “What are you waiting for? Kill it!”

            “Phoenix!” The two men posed.

            (Y/N) rolled their eyes. Idiots.

            The bodyguards fired pistols at the reanimated corpse. Margaret growled and didn’t react, just stumbling slightly before turning and advancing on them. She lunged at the nearest man even as he continued shooting. Her jaws snapped closed around his neck with another sickening crunch, and he fell with a scream.

            “Useless, the lot of you!” said Stoker, running from the room as Margaret latched onto the next guard.

            “Wait!” shouted Ciel.

            “Young Master,” warned (Y/N), and Sebastian held him back.

            Margaret lifted her head and turned towards Ciel. Blood dripped from her knife and bullet wounds, and the blood of her victims splattered her jaw in a gory mess.

            “How in the world does one stop that?” said Ciel.

            “Perhaps it will do to dismember it into immobility for the time being?” said Sebastian.

            “That’s what the Chronos did to Uranus,” said (Y/N).

            “You can’t kill these guys unless you smash in their heads!” said a new voice.

            Sebastian, (Y/N), and Ciel’s heads snapped up. A man, no, a reaper, flew through the air with his death scythe towards Margaret as she stood.

            “Like so!”

            The reaper’s strange death scythe sliced through Margaret’s skull. Blood splattered the air.

            “You gotta be efficient, see?” The reaper’s fluorescent eyes glanced up at the demons and Earl.

            “That’s a—”

            Sebastian was cut off as the reaper exclaimed in annoyance. “Say what?! Ah! I knew it! This one’s dead already! That’s why I said I’d reaped her soul ‘n’ everything! I can’t freaking’ believe this!”

            “Who is that?” said Ciel.

            “You should know what he is by now,” said (Y/N).

            “Aha! This one’s still got a soul,” said the reaper, hopping onto the stage on his Death Scythe. “Ups-a-daisy!” His blade sliced into Margaret’s mother, and the Cinematic Records flew up. “Susannah Connor. Born July twenty-third, 1841. Died April nineteenth, 1889 of shock due to extensive hemorrhage. Remarks—none in particular. Judgement complete.”

            “A Grim Reaper?” realized Ciel.

            “Those outfits,” said the reaper, looking (Y/N) and Sebastian up and down. “Would you happen to be the infamous Sebby and (Nickname)?”

            (Y/N) and Sebastian nearly groaned.

            “I do very much loathe being addressed that way, but I am indeed Sebastian Michaelis, butler to the house of Phantomhive,” said Sebastian.

            “And I am the maid of the Phantomhive household, (Y/N) Noir,” said the cat demon. They remained poised and careful. If a reaper was here, the situation was definitely grim (pun intended). “And you are?”

            “Ronald Knox,” said the reaper, winking. “Grim Reaper Dispatch, Retrieval Division. Thanks for lookin’ out for my senior.”

            “Just now, you mentioned that these creatures cannot be killed ‘unless you smash in their heads,’ ” said Sebastian, ignoring the mention of Grell. “Do you Grim Reapers know something of these incidents where the incidents where the dead are brought back to life?”

            “Nah, we haven’t got any real details,” said Ronald. “But we’ve had reports of corpses being active even after their souls were collected. Management’s put in claims against us, treating the cases like the retrieval division screwed up, so I came to look into things, but turns out it’s a soulless corpse through and through, this. I mean, I culled Margaret Connor’s soul two weeks ago, no doubt about it.”

            “So the dead have not been returned to life,” said Ciel. “It’s just a moving corpse.”

            “I thought it seemed off. No soul, empty,” said (Y/N). A demon’s instincts were never wrong.

            “Is it even possible to a body without a soul to move?” remarked Sebastian.

            “Well, something’s happening with them. They have no soul and are moving,” said (Y/N).

            “The ‘brass’ says that it’s impossible too, but the Grim Reaper dispatch is investigating in the first place ‘cos the corpses really are moving, as you just saw,” said Ronald.

            “So all we know is that we can stop them from moving by ‘smashing their heads?’ ” said (Y/N).

            “Uh, yeah,” said Ronald.

            (Y/N) shrugged and smirked. “That’s enough for me to go on.”

            Ciel nodded. “Looks like we’ve got to force a confession out of Rian. C’mon, then.”

            They turned away. As soon as their backs were turned, Ronald’s death scythe roared to life. Sebastian turned and grabbed the scythe before it could cut into any of them.

            “If management gets wind of demons being on board, it’ll be a pain with them grousing on about how ‘perhaps you are concealing the fact that a noxious beast snatched souls from you?’ and stuff.” Ronald grinned and pressed the scythe closer to Sebastian’s face. “I don’t really wanna get stuck with overtime for a reason like that, so how’s about you disappear right here and now?”

            (Y/N) kicked him, and he went flying into the wall. “You reapers. Always so dramatic and chatty.” Ronald flipped back to his feet and huffed, revving his scythe.

            “I’m going on ahead!” said Ciel. He wasn’t worried about Ronald. “Once you’ve played with him, come after me!”

            “Very good, sir,” said Sebastian.

            “Hey, you should be paying attention to me!” said Ronald, swinging at them.

            (Y/N) grabbed the death scythe, and Sebastian kicked at him. Ronald jumped back, and (Y/N) threw several knives at him. The death scythe sliced through them with ease.

            “The death scythe lives up to its reputation once more, even when in such a strange shape,” said (Y/N).

            “It’s sharpness is guaranteed, hm?” remarked Sebastian.

            Ronald grinned cockily. “You betcha!” He jumped onto the back of his death scythe and drove towards Sebastian and (Y/N).

            They braced and lashed at him as he attacked, but he flipped into the air. Sebastian pivoted and threw knives at Ronald. The reaper dodged and flicked his wrist. Sebastian’s eyes flashed fuchsia as a knife sliced across his cheek. Ronald landed and grinned back at him.

            “Sebastian?” said (Y/N), keeping their eyes on Ronald.

            “Merely a scratch,” said Sebastian, cleaning the blood from his cheek.

            “Focusing on the just the death scythe ‘cos I’m a grim reaper,” said Ronald. He held his knife and smirked. “That’s the old way of doin’ things.”

            Sebastian tsked. “Children these days truly do have bad attitudes.”

            He jumped at Ronald, who dodged and swung. (Y/N) leapt over him and attacked from behind. Ronald pivoted, but (Y/N) bent backwards before kicking up at him. The hit forced him back, and Sebastain threw several knives that he narrowly avoided.

            “You two are as good as they say,” said Ronald.

            “Why, thank you,” said Sebastian.

            “I’m afraid we’ve never heard anything said of you, though…” said (Y/N), smirking.

            Ronald grinned and was about to respond when he noticed his watch and balked. “Oopsie! It’s almost time!” He zoomed towards the door on his death scythe. “I can’t be playin’ around now!”

            (Y/N) and Sebastian blinked as he went.

            “I don’t wanna get stuck writing a letter of apology ‘cos I was late. No, sir! Work’s gotta get done efficiently!” Ronald paused in the doorway and grinned back at the pair. “So on that note, see ya later, Sebby darling, (Nickname)!” Ronald winked and left the room.

            Even when she’s not here, Grell is annoying, thought (Y/N). “What was that about?”

            “I’m not sure,” said Sebastian.

            “We should find the Young Master,” said (Y/N). “If a reaper thinks something’s about to happen, then it can’t be good.”

            “Yes,” said Sebastian. He tutted. “Humans should know that the supernatural cannot be controlled. They simply cause themselves problems.”

            (Y/N) hummed, but whether it was in complete agreement or not was yet to be seen.

l

            “C-Ciel!” cried Elizabeth, holding onto Ciel on the top of the boxes as Snake and Ciel watched the reanimated corpses below tearing at their tower.

            Ciel pulled Elizabeth closer and squeezed his eyes shut. “Lizzie! I’ll protect you without fail come whatever may!”

            “How admirable of you, Young Master.”

            “Now that’s what I call gentleman-like behavior.”

            A rain of silver knives sliced down across the horde of reanimated corpses. (Y/N) and Sebastian stood at the stairs of the hold and gazed out at the hundreds of bodies. They hadn’t anticipated so many bodies to be kept aboard and to be reanimated, but they were never lucky.

            “Sebastian! (Y/N)!” shouted Ciel, holding Elizabeth tightly with Snake beside him. “Don’t just stand there! Hurry up and take care of them!”

            “As you wish,” said Sebastian. He and (Y/N) jumped down towards the horde. “This is none too refined a method, but if all that is required is to destroy their heads, this way—” Sebastian grabbed one corpse’s head. “—is by far the most expedient!” He slammed it into the ground, destroying the skull.

            Snake’s eyes widened in shock at the destructive power, and Ciel kept Elizabeth from looking. (Y/N) grinned and kicked through another reanimated corpse’s head. The two demons leapt into action. Ciel’s eyes widened. Memories of that day spun through his mind as he witnessed the carnage before him. Sebastian and (Y/N) literally tore through the reanimated humans, a perfect team in a massacring dance.

            When they stopped, blood covered the ground below them. Corpses fell in heaps beside them. Red splattered their uniforms and stained their gloves.

            “All done,” said (Y/N), smiling pleasantly as if they hadn’t torn humans limb from limb.

            “Now, please let me help you,” said Sebastian, holding out his hands.

            Ciel narrowed his eyes. “Don’t touch me with those hands. You’ll get me dirty.”

            “My apologies, sir,” said Sebastian. “We shall change out gloves right away.”

            The demons slipped on fresh gloves before Sebastian lifted Ciel down and (Y/N) assisted Elizabeth. Snake clambered down on his own, his snakes curling around him at the smell of blood.

            Ciel glared distastefully at the blood at his feet. “Couldn’t you have gone about it a little more gracefully? You were like beasts.”

            “Forgive us, but we were in a hurry,” said (Y/N).

            “Moreover, their bodies appear to be frailer than even that of the average human,” said Sebastian.

            “But why are there so many on this ship?” asked Ciel.

            “I believe—”

            (Y/N) threw several knives to the side as Sebastian spoke. Stoker squeaked as they impaled the box in front of him.

            “—we had better put that question to him,” finished Sebastian. He smirked at (Y/N), who grinned back. The pair had read each other’s mind on what to do. More and more in sync…

            “Rian Stoker!” exclaimed Ciel.

            “N-No!” Stoker backed away. “Their absolute salvation was incomplete, and I never intended for them to reanimate in such unhealthy states.”

            “They were dead. They will never be in a healthy state again,” said (Y/N). This was the truth as being a demon wasn’t exactly what one could call “healthy.”

            Sebastian grabbed Stoker’s arms. “Please just hear me out! We must hurry—Ow!”

            “There is no need to rush,” said Sebastian with fake pleasantry. “We have plenty of time until we put in at New York, so we shall listen to your story at leisure.”

            “Please wait!” cried Stoker.

            “For what? We have gotten rid of them all,” said Sebastian, raising an eyebrow.

            “No, you haven’t!” said Stoker desperately.

            “What?” said (Y/N) sharply.

            “This ship utilizes the latest reciprocating steam engines, and they and their massive boilers are installed at the center of the vessel,” the words poured out of Stoker in a panicked heap. “So this place is divided in two with the boiler rooms in the middle.”

            “So what of it?” questioned Ciel.

            “In other words, this ship has two cargo holds, one in the bow, one in the stern!” said Stoker.

            (Y/N) could have groaned. Humans messing with forces they have no experience with. All they do is get themselves killed.

            “What?!” said Ciel.

            Stoker swallowed. “And the hold in the bow…has ten times as many test subjects as the hold in the stern stored within.”

            “Did you say ten times as many?!” said Ciel in horror.

            “This is not good,” said Sebastian, keeping Stoker still as he tried to pull away.

            “ ‘Not good’ doesn’t begin to cover it!” said Ciel. “One of those monsters is bad enough—” he glanced around at the corpses around him “—and you’re telling me there are still ten times as many as this?!”

            “Then the interior of the ship is most likely crawling with droves of them,” said Sebastian.

            (Y/N)’s nose twitched, and they glared at Stoker. Their eyes flashed fuchsia, enjoying the fear in his eyes as they leaned towards him. “You foolish humans. What were you thinking? You have no magic and no knowledge of what life and death truly mean. All you could possibly reap were consequences.”

            Stoker shivered at their dark tone, and they tsked before straightening. “I—But I—!”

            Stoker attempt to defend himself was cut off by Ciel. “Sebastian, (Y/N), go ahead and get my aunt and family somewhere safe. Clear out as many corpses as you can on the way.”

            “And you, Young Master?” said Sebastian. “What of you and Lady Elizabeth?”

            “We’ll only get in your way,” said Ciel. “I do have my pistol, so we should be able to manage for a while. Return at once after you’ve secured their safety!”

            “Very good, sir,” said Sebastian, releasing Stoker and letting him collapse to his knees in fear.

            “Let’s go,” said (Y/N), and the pair took off out of the hold.

            They ran towards first class, smashing through any reanimated corpses they came across. However, the corpses never took any notice of them, instead going after the humans. They were drawn to the gatherings of people, and sure enough, that’s where they found Francis allowing people to escape into the elevators while she faced the reanimated corpses with her sword. She stabbed one through the chest, but when it didn’t fall, she furrowed her brow in confusion.

            (Y/N) moved forward and smashed its head to the ground. “Good evening, Lady Midford!” they said pleasantly.

            “We hope you have not been injured?” said Sebastian with a smile.

            “Butler! Maid!” exclaimed Francis. “What are they?”

            “We do not know enough about them ourselves,” said Sebastian.

            “But we know there is only one way to stop them: smash in their heads,” said (Y/N).

            Several corpses lunged forward. Sebastian used a knife-hand against the head of one, and (Y/N) delivered a powerful kick. Francis sliced through a corpse’s head. The reanimated humans fell.

            “Hmph. It seems you speak the truth,” said Francis. “So out of gratitude, I shall overlook that indecent face and hairstyle for today.”

            “We are deeply obliged, my Lady…” said (Y/N) and Sebastian. What’s wrong with our faces?

            “Francis, are you alright?!” Alexis ran around the corner with Edward. Both men had their swords drawn.

            “My dear!” said Francis, glad to see her husband and son.

            “Butler! Maid! Where’s Lizzie?!” demanded Edward.

            “She is with the Young Master,” said Sebastian. “Both of them are alive, sir.”

            “If they’re together, there’s nothing to worry about,” said Alexis.

            “Indeed,” said Francis. “After all, it is one’s duty to protect one’s betrothed at all costs.”

            Is she talking about Ciel or Elizabeth? wondered (Y/N).

            “He did say he would protect her ‘without fail,’ ” said Sebastian. “I have come under their orders to escort you to a safer loca—”

            “We can’t have that,” said Alexis firmly.

            “Eh?” said Sebastian, blanking.

            “The Marquessate of Midford is a house of knights that has protected England for generations,” said Alexis. “To ignore the plight of her people would go against the code of chivalry.”

            “We, the fair knights of England must be the shield that protects the weak,” declared Edward.

            How honorable, thought (Y/N).

            “Isn’t that right, Mother/Francis?” The two men looked back for Francis’s approval.

            Much less impressive. But amusing.

            “Quite!” said Francis. “Go back to Ciel and Lizzie and don’t dawdle!”

            “But…” said Sebastian.

            “What, have you no faith in our swords?” said Francis.

            (Y/N) and Sebastian exchanged looks before bowing.

            “Alright,” said Sebastian.

            “We wish for your safety, Lady Midford,” said (Y/N).

            “And tell Ciel this!” said Edward. “I won’t show him any mercy if something happens to my little sister!”

            “As you wish, sir,” said Sebastian. He glanced at (Y/N), and they nodded.

            Crack!

            Before anyone could move, a sharp sound pierced the night air over the sound of cries of fear, and the ship shook.

            “What’s going on?” exclaimed Francis. “What was that quaking just now?”

            “It cannot be,” said Sebastian, running to the nearest viewing balcony.

            “Damn,” murmured (Y/N). They could see the ice shards scattered on the deck below and the crippled side of the Campania. The ship had hit an iceberg. “It’s going to flood.”

            “Well, then, we have a job before we head back to the Young Master,” said Sebastian.

            The demons took off. Two crises in a single night? They had their work cut out for them.

Taglist:

@technikerin23

@im-making-an-effort

@izzieg3987

@jinxxangel13

@alexpangender

@otomyoli

@neenieweenie

@nex-crowley

@anxious-chick

@bellacastiel

@v1l-ismissing

@agentdedf1sh

@iamsexytrash

@oceansfloor

@neuvilleteismybby

[randomprose]

plans for the future

written for the satosho server weekly prompt: wedding [ao3] set after 221

“Hey,” Shoko calls Satoru’s attention as she pulls off her surgical gloves and he’s getting dressed. “Don’t die.”

“Of course, I won’t. Didn’t I say I’d win?” Satoru scoffs as he pulls down his shirt. “What, you doubtin’ or something?”

Shoko’s check-up is more thorough than usual and her reversed cursed technique practically swept him from head to toe despite Satoru not needing any healing. Not since he got out of the Prison Realm days ago anyway and even then it’s not like he sustained any real damage from being sealed in the box for nineteen days other than severe boredom. But Satoru supposed that’s just a necessary precautionary measure for tomorrow’s fight and Shoko is a pro after all.

“No. It’s just that…” Shoko chews the inside of her cheek, mulling over her words as she leans on her table. Her eyes trained on Satoru still perched on her examination table. “I have plans for us.”

“Oh? And what would those plans be?”

She reaches back to the drawer under her desk for a small back velvet box and casually tosses it in his direction. Satoru deftly catches it, eyes widening when he looks down at what it is.

Whatever thoughts Satoru has when Shoko said she has plans for them goes flying out the window. He opens the box to see what’s inside and—yep this was definitely not one of them. Not even his all-knowing Six Eyes saw this one coming.

“Shoko!” Satoru gasps as the ring glints up at him. “Shoko!”

“What? I’m right here.”

“You’re not serious?!”

“As serious as five hundred thousand yen.” 

“Five hundred thou—You’re seriously not serious?!” 

Shoko, Ieri cheapskate Shoko, whom Satoru has rarely ever seen pay for anything (if at all!) in her life since becoming friends with him, just bought him a five hundred thousand yen engagement ring.

“I can just take it back if you—”

“No!” Satoru turns and raises his arms so the box is out of her reach. “No. You said you have plans for us.”

“I did.” Plans which got derailed because of this whole shit show but, eh, it is what it is. “I do.”

“Slow down, doc. I haven’t even said yes and you’re already saying your I do’s?” Satoru smirks, all too giddy and smug at this sudden development. “A little presumptuous of you, no?”

“Like I said, I can always take it back. Those plans aren’t set in stone anyway.”

Satoru doesn’t rise to her teasing this time, too caught up staring at the ring nestled in blue velvet cushion. It’s a platinum band with six diamonds embedded in it. No doubt customized because the diamonds are the same purple shade as her eyes, which Satoru always said he likes. 

But the best thing about it is that Shoko has infused each diamond with her cursed energy.

Fuck. Dammit. Satoru thinks he’s going to cry.

“You bought me an engagement ring,” Satoru says, soft and reverent. “And you have plans for us.”

“Yes, Gojo, we’ve already established that.” Fuck sakes. He’s holding the damn ring in his hand. “And?”

“Uggghh,” Satoru groans because he’s dramatic and a diva and a goof and Shoko wants to marry his ridiculous ass. “What the hell, man? This is sooo unromantic!” Shoko rolls her eyes and Satoru has to fight tooth and nail so his petulant pout doesn’t turn into a giddy grin. “Like, where’s the build-up? The romance? Dude, you didn’t even get me flowers! And what? You couldn’t even get on one knee and pop the question properly? So unromantic, Shoko. Seriously.”

He’s joking, of course. Satoru knows Shoko doesn’t have the time or the patience or even the imagination (or the stomach) for all that mushy shit. In any case, he doesn’t really care about all of that because he’s already so fucking ecstatic. 

Sure, it’s not his dream proposal exactly, but that’s only because he’s always envisioned it would be somewhere grand and romantic (like Paris or their high school classroom or in spring when the cherry blossoms are in full bloom), and he would be the one going down on one knee (in his best suit with his hair styled slick back for a more devastating effect and a sure ‘yes’) and catching Shoko off guard. 

Then again, Satoru thinks as he looks at Shoko across from him lips quirked in a minuscule smile, the woman has somehow always been three steps ahead of the Six Eyes. 

All in all, Satoru supposes the school infirmary with Shoko saying she has plans for them and beating him to the punch isn’t a bad way to get engaged.

“Tell you what,” Shoko says as she crosses the short distance between them and gently pries the box from his hand. “When you finish the fight and come back alive—that’s a requirement, dumbass, you hear me?—then I’ll propose. Properly. I’ll give you romance and the build-up. I’ll buy you flowers and have a speech. The whole shebang. Hell, I’ll even get down on one knee.”

Because not only is Shoko always three steps ahead of him but she also never ceases to surprise and defy Satoru’s expectations.

“Really?”

“Really. I promise I’ll get down on my knees.” Shoko pockets the velvet box and shoots him a heavy look through long lashes and half-lidded eyes. “In more ways than the one.”

“Oh.” Satoru is slow on the uptake but his eyes follow the way Shoko smirks as she licks and bites her lip and finally gets it. “Oh.”

“Hey! Can we get this thing wrapped up quick?” Satoru shouts after Sukuna amidst the rubble. “I’ve got a proposal to get to!”

“Oh, you’re proposing? How cute.”

“No, I’m getting proposed to,” Satoru says primly, firing another Red. Sukuna is hit but easily regenerates. “But that will only happen after I finish you! So. Chop-chop! Come on!”

“It’s the reverse cursed technique user, isn’t it? Good for you I guess. You couldn’t do better than her,” Sukuna shrugs, getting ready to use Dismantle again. Satoru barely reinforces Limitless at how weirded out he is that he and Sukuna are agreeing on something. “She certainly could do better. My condolences to her though.”

“I know, right?! She’s really great! The best! I’m so—hey! What do you mean by that?!” 

“Hey, uhh so,” Satoru rubs the back of his head sheepishly, sunglasses dipping down his nose as he looks down. “Listen. So, Shoko. She’s—”

“Yeah, I know,” Suguru cuts him off.

“You do?”

“I’ve been watching this whole time, idiot. Of course, I know.”

“Pfft. Creep.”

“You’re the creep.” Suguru shoves him and then smiles. Genuinely. Beatifically. “Congratulations.”

“Yeah. Yeah, thanks. I, uh—” Satoru sniffles, and looks away before thinking ‘fuck it!’ and pulling Suguru into the tightest bear hug they’ve ever shared both in the living and the afterlife. “I wish you could be there, man,” he chokes out.

“Me too,” Suguru answers. His voice breaks at the end and his eyes are shiny when they pull apart. “Take care of each other, yeah?”

“I’ve been trying, but you know how she is, dude! Swear to god she only listens to you,” Satoru grumbles as he rolls his eyes and Suguru chuckles. “Well. I’ll head for North for now.”

“Yeah. You kept her waiting and worried long enough. Good luck with that, man.”

“Tch. Don’t remind me. I’ll be lucky if she still hasn’t changed her mind.”

“She hasn’t,” Suguru assures him, all-knowing. “See you later, Satoru. Tell Shoko I said hi.”

“Yeah. See you later, Suguru.”

Satoru wakes up to the blinding fluorescent light and the familiar sterilized smell of the school's infirmary. 

“Hey,” Shoko comes into his line of vision and Satoru smiles. What a sight for sore eyes. “Welcome back.”

“I’m back,” he croaks as he nuzzles into the palm caressing his face and the familiar curse energy it’s emitting. “I talked to Suguru while I was out. He says hi.”

“You did, huh? Only took him this long to check in on me and he even had to do it with a proxy? Bastard.” Shoko smirks and rolls her eyes in jest. Then her expression softens into a small smile, eyes losing their sharp edges as she looks down at Satoru and runs a hand through his unruly grimy hair. “Scared me there for a second. Thought I went all the trouble to buy a ring for nothing.” 

“I changed my mind.”

“Oh? You talked to Suguru and suddenly you got a change of heart? Tch. Men. Figures.” She still hasn’t let go of him, touch ever soft and gentle as she continues to run healing hands over him, pumping him with her reverse cursed technique and breathing life into him. “That’s fine, I suppose. The ring is still well within the 30-day return period anyway.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. What the hell? You think you’d get out of it that easily? Fat chance, lady. I just…” Satoru takes one of her hands in his. “I don’t want all the trimmings. Just ask me now, Shoko.”

“You sure? Infirmary’s full so we’re in the morgue right now, you know? So. Not very romantic. And neither of us has showered in days and I literally just put you back together. Are you—”

“I don’t care.” Satoru brings her hand up to his lips. “Shoko, I really don’t care.” A giddy smile spreads on his face and is mirrored by her even as she purses her lips to contain it. “Ask me now, Shoko.”

“Tch. So impatient. And to think I made all the reservations and ordered flowers too. I even had a speech typed up and memorized.”

“Oh, shut up. As if you did. Cut to the chase already, Ieiri.”

“Gojo Satoru, I’m giving you a lifetime pass to be a pain in my ass. So,” Shoko gets the velvet box from the pocket of her lab coat, ignores Satoru’s delighted crow of ‘Has that been there the whole time?!’, and smiles when he hears him gasp as she kneels on one knee in the infirmary’s linoleum floors. “Wanna get hitched?"

Satoru thinks about fooling around, of making a quip or two as he is wont to do.

But Shoko is kneeling on one knee and her hands are pink and red stained with his blood as she holds up the ring she had customized and infused with her cursed energy so everyone can know who Satoru belongs to. Her eyes are bloodshot and bruised, evidence of the long hours she spent breathing life back into him. There’s a tired but soft smile on her face, and she is so, so beautiful.

In the end, the only thing that came out of Satoru was a breathy ecstatic, “Yes.”

--

notes: satoru's ring | shoko's ring

[hypocriticaltypwriter]

I'm so curious about this: what's the future for Nancy and Ace?

Fast forward 50 or 60 years. Did they marry? Did they divorce? Did they never officially get together? Any children? Grandchildren? Did they grow and change for the better and have a healthier relationship or were they doomed from the beginning? What did they do with their lives?

Also how much of Nancy's style changed as she moved into the modern/present day?

IVE ACTUALLY BEEN WAITING FOR AN ASK LIKE THIS TYSM LAV 🩷🩷🩷🥺🥺

I'll give you the short response if you don't want rambles: Yes! It's a lot of trial and error, but they eventually get into a healthier and easier lifestyle and get married!

I feel like if it were based on the movie/book, they'd probably be doomed as some tragic romance.... BUT THIS IS MY S/I, AND I GET TO MAKE THEM HAPPY WITH A PICKET FENCE AND BABIES AND LOVE DOVEY DAMMIT 😠

Ace got a pretty big wake-up call the day Nancy finally told him off and wished he'd never been in her life. And for a while, that's where they all thought it would end. That, whatever Nancy and Ace had going on was history. Even Nancy thought it was the end for those next few weeks of avoiding each other and dread of seeing one or the other going into town.

It wasn't until one rather fateful night, when a very beaten up Ace turned up on Nancy's doorstep, just sitting in the steps of her porch smoking a cigarette. She dragged him inside [I'll admit a bit reluctant] and took him to the bathroom to clean him up. It was a bit tense, and God awfully awkward... But after Nancy was about to send him on his way, Ace gave a very difficult and rusty apology, and he wanted to be better- if she won't have him as a boyfriend yet, he'd want to start again as friends.

So they started there and worked all the way back to the top! Ace did chill out a whole lot once he got older - especially around eighteen or nineteen - and Nancy was gaining some more self love and confidence/self independence in herself, and that's when he and Nancy started to get a bit more serious and talk about settling down.

They never left Castle Rock, as much as a horrible fate that seemed like to them as kids. In the end, it seemed things turned out just fine for the both of them. And Ace finally got that God-damn blessing for Nancy's old man to marry her just like they'd planned when they were six years old... And her brothers are in good term with him - even if it takes a little longer to wear off on em.And imma just say it now... YES, THEY HAVE BABIESSS BECAUSE OF COURSE THEY DO HAVE YOU MET ME???

They actually have triplets! Three little girls with crazy curly brown hair and big mischevious blue eyes 🥺 I'm not sure about their names yet but their probably one of the greatest things to happen to Ace and Nancy [and now he understands Nancy's dad a whole lot better💀] And also adding, they have a dog too. 😌✨️

Nancy and her style to change a lot as she gets older and through the years- also gaining just a bit more confidence in herself to change her style up a bit from being less recluse and shy in a corner. She still keeps up with the style she's more comfortable with and gre up with some days, but I can see her growing into big earrings and crazy tie-dye dresses... If that's what you meant by style that is.😂

They grow old, never taking one day without reminding the other how much they love each other and the home they made, spending late nights reminiscing their youth and childhood. 🩷

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Lovers & Friends (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Keigo Takami x Black!Fem!Reader (Friends to Lovers)

Synopsis: In which you and Keigo have begun to realize the strange new feelings you both have for each other after one drunken night at a close friend’s wedding that ends with you in his bed, but because of your longtime friendship and committed relationships with other people, you’re more than happy to forget that night even happened and keep your mutual feelings in the dark…for now, at least. 

Story Warnings: Smutty smut; 18+ (MINORS GET AWAY); Cheating/Infidelity; Mating; Light Degradation; Spanking; Exhibitionism; Multiple Positions; Creampie; Unprotected PIV Sex; Facials; Scent Play; Marking; Spitting; Deepthroating; Cunnilingus; Begging; Edgeplay; Power Play; Daddy Kink; Some Angst; Hurt/Comfort; Mild Violence

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: This week has been hella weird (I think it's cuz of an eclipse coming or Friday the 13th) but in other news, HAS ANYONE SEEN THE NEW JJK EPISODE? BITCH NANAMI CAN HAVE ALL OF ME. -Jazz

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Bonus Chapter.

Read on AO3 here!

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

Chapter Thirteen: I'll Kill For You.

That night across the city, Keigo is tossing and turning in his king-sized bed. 

Usually, on a Friday night such as thing one, he would be inviting his friends over for a little kickback or play a round of video games. Maybe he’d even be out in the streets, bar hopping or going to clubs.

But tonight, he doesn’t want to socialize. He doesn’t want to be with anyone. His phone has been blowing up since he’s gotten home, but he ignores it. He even smoked a blunt and went to bed early for work tomorrow, also hoping this would calm his mind that is won’t shut the fuck up about you and Sakura. 

But it won’t. No matter what, his brain keeps replaying Monday afternoon when you looked so damn good in your work clothes when he met you for lunch and the moment Sakura walked out on him last weekend.

“Dammit,” he swears, frustratedly sitting up in his bed. He figured going to bed early in time for work tomorrow would help him clear his mind for a while, but he was wrong. All he can think about are you, Sakura, and how fucked his situation is. 

But mostly, his thoughts lie with you. He is glad things are “cool” with you after that lunch meeting you two had, but things are still…different. There is still that layer of attraction underneath every conversation you two have; every text he sends you; every laugh you give him at his jokes. That night at the hotel only made that attraction more palpable for him. He can’t even look at you the same way again.

“Fuck!” he growls, gripping his hair in frustration. This is ridiculous! He’s never going to get any sleep if his mind keeps racing like this. 

So, against his better judgment, Keigo rises from his bed, tosses on some sweats and a tank top, and takes to the skies in an effort to stretch his wings, destress, and tire himself out enough to get some sleep. He originally plans to just fly about randomly, a particular route not planned…but what the fuck does he do instead?

He takes the route to your and Rumi’s apartment. 

“You stupid motherfucker,” he sighs, criticizing himself and his need to see you. Logically, he knows he isn’t. There is about a one in ten chance he’ll actually see you in your bedroom window, especially considering that you and Rei aren’t a thing anymore and as far as he knows, you’re single. So when he pulls up to your condo, he expects to see your bedroom curtain closed for the night.

What he doesn’t expect to see, however, is Rei’s ass strutting out of the condo building like a proud peacock. Keigo pauses in his route immediately and zips behind the building, pressing his front up against the brick wall.

He peeks out from the side, sneakily eyeing your ex-boyfriend as he practically skips down the steps of your building. Why was he in there? Could you two have talked? Are you back together? God, he hopes not. How could you have taken back a fraud like that? 

Rei begins to whistle a low tune as he digs into his pocket for his car keys. He clicks a button on the pod, causing the headlights on a white sports bar parked off to the side of the street to blink on.

Keigo carefully examines everything about your ex as he pauses for a moment to take a call when his phone rings, noticing how careless he seems. He even turns around, facing away from his car, as if he has no care in the world.

That kind of confidence can only be accomplished through something he managed to receive. Is it you? Did he come over begging for you back and you said yes? Could you have met him for dinner tonight, gotten too drunk, and had sex with him, which is what he was chasing after all along? 

“This raggedy bitch,” Keigo snarls.

The more he thinks, the angrier he gets. And that anger propels him toward Rei’s car, right behind his back without him even sensing the pro. Keigo is just too fast. He zooms right by and settles onto the hood of Rei's car, one foot up while the other dangles above the ground. He waits for Rei to finish his car, half of the conversation nothing but mumbling.

When he finally hangs up with a laugh, Keigo makes his move. “Stalker much, Tempo?” he asks. 

Rei startles and immediately whips around to find Keigo sitting on the hood of his car. Keigo smirks a this reaction, glad he can scare the guy. At the sight of Rei’s eyes narrow. “Well, if it isn’t the number two pro hero,” he huffs. “You mind getting off my car?” 

Keigo cracks his neck, making Rei tense. “Yeah, I do mind,” he growls. “Nice ride, by the way. I can only imagine what kinda shit you’d be able to get with your award.”

A cool smirk that ticks him off stretches across Rei’s face. “Well, we’ll see in a week, won’t we?” he curtly chuckles. “If you don’t get off the car, I’m taking you with me. I don’t think Y/N would wanna see you under a car though.” His smirk only grows wider. 

Keigo imagines punching it off of his face. This fucker is way too cocky and confident right now. Something definitely happened with you tonight. “Were you with her tonight?” he asks, cutting right to the chase. He knows that this doesn’t concern him, but if you’re going to be with anyone else, he'd rather it be someone who isn’t an insecure phony. 

Rei’s smirk fades, replaced with a bitter stare. “Why’s that any of your business?” he asks, placing a hand on his hip. That makes Keigo even angrier for some reason, despite him being right…but shit, he doesn't wanna hear it from him! 

He begins to argue that your happiness is absolutely his business, but Rei stops him. “You think you’re gonna take my place?” he acerbically hisses.

Keigo’s mouth abruptly closes, his brows furrowing in confusion. What the hell is he talking about? “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” Rei asks, an accusatory look on his face. "Trying to intimidate me, scare me out of breaking up with Y/N so you can steal my spot?” 

Keigo silently stares at him for a minute, wondering if this man had too much to drink and is just saying shit. “Okay,” he begins. “First of all, you’re crazy. Second of all, Y/N already broke it off with you. Third, you’re crazy.” 

Rei chuckles at his insult, rolling his violet eyes. “Not crazier than someone desperate enough to intimidate their best friend’s boyfriend,” he rebuttals.

Keigo scowls at his words, realizing that he’s talking in the present tense again…as if he is still your boyfriend. Rei laughs, finding humor in this. “What, you didn’t hear? We got back together just tonight. A few hours ago, actually.” A suggestive smirk stretches across his punchable face. “I’m sure you can smell the perfume.” 

Keigo immediately jumps off of the car, his wings shuddering with anger. “You’re lying.”

Rei raises an eyebrow at him. “Am I?” he challenges. He raises his phone to Keigo, that smirk still on his lips like he’s winning this game. “You want me to call Y/N so she can tell you herself?” Keigo blankly stares at the phone, his jaw tightening. he’s almost tempted to say yes. 

Rei cackles, making the winged pro want to wring his neck. “You’re pathetic for trying this card, Hawks,”  he sighs pityingly. “I mean, as a pro, you should be smarter than this thinking you could break us up and steal your way into Y/N’s heart…or bed.”

Keigo's ears perk at the last part and his top lip begins to twitch––something that happens when you’ve got him heated. “Da fuck’s that supposed to mean?” he asks through a growl.

Rei isn't the least bit intimidated, or is at least pretending he isn’t. “Look, who you spend the night with is my business,” he says, putting his hands up in mock defense, “but everybody knows you get around. Is that what your current girlfriend is? A one-night stand that turned into a weekly nightstand?” 

His eyes turn into darkened, violet slits, his stare becoming ice cold. “How is she, by the way?” he asks. “Does she know you cheated on her with your best friend?”

Keigo swears his heart falls into his ass. At the sight of his shock, Rei smirks. “Yes, I know. Y/N told me and she seemed pretty torn up about it. Even said it was a total mistake and wished it never happened.” He sighs, putting a hand to his heart. “She even persuaded me to walk away even after she told the truth. How amazing of a girl is she?” 

Keigo digs his nails into his palms so hard that he winches at the stinging sensation he feels. But it’s all he can do to not clock this joke of a man and a pro hero standing in front of him. He knows that Rei is just trying to rile him up, but he won’t let him.

And as pissed as he is that you took him back and that you told him the truth even after you swore him to secrecy, he also knows that this is your decision. He has no say in who you date being that he is just your friend. And only your friend. 

He takes a deep breath and relaxes his shoulders that are wound up tighter than a drum. After finding his inner peace, he looks at the man in front of him, calm and collected. “Look, Rei,” he starts, “I’m not here for this or to break you and Y/N up if it’s true that you’re back together. I just want her to be happy.”

Rei’s smile is bitter, not at all touched by this. “Well, isn’t that sweet of you?” he scoffs. “Now get the fuck away my car.” 

But Keigo doesn’t budge. Instead, he stands there as one of his feathers separates from one of his wings and sharpens to the point. It then zips through the air to stop at the hood of Rei’s car where it sits dangerously close to the metal, its point nearly digging into it and creating a scratch. The fear that crosses Rei's face is nearly orgasmic for him.

“Listen carefully unless you want a feather fuckin’ up your paint job,” he says in a dangerously low voice fit for a horror flick. “Y/N is very important to me, and so is her happiness. She’s like my family.” 

He steps closer to Rei, getting up into his personal space. It’s enough to intimidate Rei even further and make Keigo even happier. “And if anyone fucks with my family, they….” He pauses, letting his words and the meaning behind them linger in the tense air between them. 

Rei tries to act tough, but Keigo can see his Adam’s apple bob––an indication that Keigo has got him by the balls. “They what?” he quietly asks. 

But Keigo doesn’t finish his previous sentence. He can’t. It would be too violent. Plus, to see Rei squirm makes him happier than he’d like to admit. “Just be careful with her, alright?” he says, a warning in his tone. "You hurt her once; don’t do it again.”

Without another word, he turns to walk away from Rei, mostly to ignore the urge to punch him for the one time. 

But as he does, Rei has more say to him: “Is that a threat, Hawks?” he calls after the winged pro, definitely intending to poke the bear and push Keigo to do something he’ll highly regret. 

Keigo stops short, standing in the silvery moonlight a few yards away from Rei. He flaps his wings once, giving Rei a sight of the majestic, crimson creation that is attached to his back. His feather comes zooming past Rei’s face, nearly taking a bit of his ear and causing him to flinch out of the way.

Once his feather has connected back with the other bunch, Keigo cracks the other side of his neck and glares daggers at your boyfriend from across the lot.

“That’s a promise, Tempo,” he warns. “Don’t test me.”  And then, in a flash of red, he's gone. 

[pain-in-the-butler]

Have you ever considered what a meeting of Alois would've been like with the current Dadbastian development? The anime and the 2nd season were both pretty bad in terms of uncomfortable fanservice and handling things very disrespectfully, but thinking back on Alois' character now as an adult, I really pity him as a clearly traumatised and intensely disturbed child, who through abuse has, much like Ciel, developed more 'adult behaviour' that is not appropriate for his age as a defence mechanism. It's probably thinking a bit too optimistically for Dadbastian to extend concern for those outside of his immediate phantomfam, but would you think that maybe, just maybe, Alois could trigger the same kind of protective urges as Ciel? Alternatively, if you were to write something similar to Coattails but instead for Alois and co, do you have any headcanons on how you'd otherwise depict their relationship? Dad Claude? Dlaude??? Thank u for indulging my whimsical ass & sorry for the wordvomit

Hi, anon! As a fellow whimsical ass, I'll do my best to answer your question. Boy, okay, lots to consider here...

First off, I'm not entirely sure what you mean by the phrase "current Dadbastian development", but I'm going to assume you're referring to what's happening in Coattails because I don't think there's been any Dadbastian development in the manga that I've missed.

Second off, our feelings on Alois are the same. I was nineteen when season 2 came out and I didn't like it at all, I found its handling of certain themes pretty deplorable and I mean. It was a mess. At the time, I felt indifferent to disturbed by Alois, and ultimately just went away pretending the whole season never happened. However, the current fandom has made me realize that Alois is a character with a lot of potential who was definitely in the wrong hands. It's very sweet to me how many fans still care for him as if he were their adopted son and have come out with some extremely creative and realized content of him. It gives me a better appreciation for him and what he could have been.

So now to actually attempt your question. Again, assuming you're asking about Coattails, Sebastian is only really interested in being a parent to Ciel and a caretaker of varying degrees to the rest of the Phantomfam members. I think he would be able to feel sympathy for Alois's situation, but he's no bleeding heart. I'm not really sure what the scenario is here where somehow Alois and Sebastian are getting to know each other and also Alois might want Sebastian to help him over another person already in his life? It's a little difficult to answer...

And if it was in regards to canon Seb, well... yeah, he's pretty disinterested in anyone that doesn't directly benefit or threaten his contract. I don't think he would do anything to make Alois's life better.

While I hate canon Claude, I certainly think fan content can utilize him as a father figure if they made some tweaks to his character. My bud Em has explored that in this fanfic that I enjoy, and I think she's probably a better judge of Dad-Claude than I could ever be (she might even write a longer story about it someday!). Sort of going off her example, I would keep Claude's awkward/stiff personality intact and get rid of his bad-touch vibes (obviously). Unlike Coattails Sebastian, who is accustomed to big emotions but is new to love specifically, I don't think Coattails Claude would be used to feeling anything outside of his own control. He's also not very playful so he would probably have to learn to let go of things and I just realized I'm describing Bambi's dad's journey in Bambi II so god fucking dammit I did it again—

tl;dr there are so many people who can answer this question better than I just did but uhhhh I hope this was okay 💁‍♀️

[minato-division03]

Miku’s Thoughts on Roppongi Division

Kai Quinlan

“Ohhhhh, I haven’t seen Wolf of Shadows-san in a few years. He produced some of my older songs before I got around to self-producing my music. I think we worked together for… I think it was the ‘Night Aviation’ and ‘Poison Rose’ era. He’s a skilled producer and really just a great person to work with. Any current artist is lucky to collaborate with him, he does great work.”

Miku relaxed in her seat, staring into the photograph until her eyes began to lose focus and Kai’s portrait began to become nothing more than a hazy blur.

The hazier Kai appeared, the more clear the images around him became.

Spiraling around him were a cluster of different CDs in various shades of light brown and light blue, like planets surrounded the Sun.

The brown and pale blue makes a lot of sense for a creative guy like him… But blue might be a strange color to have consistently over a long period of time…

Was his aura always blue? Was it…? Come on, Miku, think…

Dammit, I just can’t remember. My memory is ass.

Mireya Quinlan

“Oh, so that’s what his wife looks like. We all live in Roppongi, but I don’t really leave my apartment unless I’m either meeting the team or going to uni lectures, so maybe I’ve seen her around? Maybe I haven’t, I don’t know. I’m still nineteen, so I can’t really go clubbing anyway.”

Much like the gold coins that adorned a belly dancer’s garments, there were a plethora of coins that surrounded Mireya. Most notably, in tangerine orange that circled closer to her body and then gradually fading to a golden, somewhat sparkly yellow.

However, there was a stream of smaller coins that surrounded Mireya’s heart. Bright yellow coins.

Such a common color to have around the heart. But I wasn’t expecting that from this lady. I guess insecurity and the lack of courage can get to just about anyone.

Zakari Hiroya

“Hmm… I’ve been told he’s a stuntman at his mom’s nightclub. And I guess he’s a high school student— ‘part time high schooler?’ What’s that? Oh… I was homeschooled since I was thirteen, I didn’t know that was an option. But I’m still in university and I’m not old enough to be clubbing, so I wouldn’t really see this guy around anyway.”

“What? He was a fan of mine…? Oh…”

Now that she got a second look at the photograph, there were a handful of multicolored die that hovered around him. Mainly in colors of a yellowish honey orange, a more red-tone scarlet-orange, and a pinky amaranth red-color.

I mean, I guess for a stunt person who lives in the edge, having orange as a predominant color isn’t so odd.

Although…

Hidden among the clusters of die were some die that have been broken apart into tiny pieces. Burnt orange, almost terra cotta-colored pieces of destroyed die that hovered around his head like a halo.

She hung her head down. “I’m so sorry I disappointed you all…”

Private Party

“So two Minato teams, an Aoyama team, and now a Roppongi team… That’s four now… Is there something Chuohku wants with this city? Like why allow or recruit so many teams?”

“Her Majesty said this on TV before, but R.I.P Märchen was originally going to represent only Roppongi— cuz Reiaki and I live here. Of course, we don’t know where the Queen Card lives in this city, but her detective agency is in the Akasaka area, so we expanded to all of Minato. So I guess if you’re gonna represent my hometown, you got to give it your all. Of course, you can’t win against us, but please don’t give our hometown of Roppongi a bad name.”

[crushribbons]

god im freaking the FUCK out bc we just got tix to see swept away on bway in april and i have been waiting since the year of our lord two thousand and nineteen to see this damn show i am SAT!!!! large popcorn!!! damn slurpee dammit!!!!!

[indecentpause]

Find the Word Tag

tagged by @willtheweaver to find the words dream, ambition, hope, fail(ure). thank!

from The Most Beautiful Puzzle!

cw: murder mention, drug mention, overdose implication

dream:

You put away the food and, this time, you’re able to make it all the way to your bed before you collapse. You nuzzle into the pillow. It smells like lavender and lemongrass. You’ll have to ask Josselin what detergent he uses so your clothes can smell that nice. Dammit, you still haven’t taken your meds. It’s the last thought you have before you crash into a deep, dreamless sleep.

ambition work:

“So she was held captive for—“ [Josselin says]. “I’d say three or four hours, max,” you finish. “Before they killed her. What about the heroin though? There was no residue anywhere, and nothing in her system there was residue of.” “What do you mean, killed her!?” Sara exclaims. She covers her mouth as if she can stuff the question back in. She says, much softer this time, “You think it was murder?” “That’s my working theory,” Josselin says. “God, she was like, nineteen. She was just a kid.”

hope:

“So, I’m gonna go.” [Josselin says]. “Wait, what?” you ask. “You just got back?” Josselin smiles and tosses his now empty can into the bin, then opens the second one and takes a swig. “To the school, I mean! I want to check things out there.” Curiosity tingles at the back of your neck. You sit up straight and say, hopefully not too pushy, “Do… you need a ride?” Josselin doesn’t seem to understand you’re trying to politely invite yourself. He thumbs back at Frankie and says, “No, Frankie can drive me. It’s okay.” “I’ll bring all of us!” Frankie says, giving you a knowing look over Josselin’s shoulder. Thankfully she doesn’t call you out on your curiosity, because it’s weird, right? To be so invested in something like this?

fail:

Josselin moves his hand from Familiar’s scruff to your knee. “I’m sorry,” he says gently. “I had a lot of bad run-ins with cops too, after my mom died. Not trouble with the law or anything, but just normal ‘autistic kid in the foster system’ problems. Dona was the only one who didn’t treat me like a troublemaker. He recognized I was just a fucked up kid trying my best in a system designed to fail.”

tagging @revenantlore @digital-chance @anoelleart @cheadarchesse and YOU to find the words: harsh, gentle, soft, and loud!

[simlit]

Chosen of the Sun | | portal // nineteen

| @amuhav

next / previous / beginning

KYRIE: Of course. Of all the places, we get this one. TAYUIN: What's the big deal? So, there's a little snow? KYRIE: A little? TAYUIN: The cold never bothered me anyways. KYRIE: Well, not all of us are secret faerie princes from faraway lands. Certainly, being born in winter never granted me resistance to cold. TAYUIN: That's about the only advantage it did give me. KYRIE: There should be some supplies up ahead. We'd do best to find it first, before I freeze to death. TAYUIN: Cut the act. You're the one in charge, here. You know how this whole thing works. Let's just find the damn portal and get out of here. KYRIE: Oh, now I get it. That's why you chose me. You thought you were punching a free ticket to the finish line. TAYUIN: If you're as important as you say you are, they're not going to leave you here to die. KYRIE: You're right. They never would have let me come. Which is why I didn’t tell anyone what I was going to do. TAYUIN: What? KYRIE: No one knows I'm here. And I don’t know where we are. TAYUIN: You must be able to see something. KYRIE: Oh, sure. Your partner in crime has entered the water biome with the girl he left behind. Is that what you want to hear? My visions are tied to the Ten. Unless you want me to speculate on our deteriorating future, my sight is useless to you. TAYUIN: This can’t be happening. KYRIE: laughs It's what you deserve. You've tried to game the system at every turn. It's hard for me to imagine what you won't do. And for what, Tayuin? Why do you want to win so badly? TAYUIN: I didn’t ask to be judged by you. KYRIE: That's exactly what you asked for. You chose me knowing I'm the only one here who sees you for what you really are. TAYUIN: And what? Are you disgusted by me? Do you hate me, too? KYRIE: Anyways, we won’t get anywhere just standing around. TAYUIN: Where are you going? Answer me, dammit! KYRIE: I can barely feel my fingers! TAYUIN: That’s not an answer! KYRIE: And you’ll never get one if you let me die out here. TAYUIN: scoffs Fine. I'll ask the stupid mirror.