#barely edited

[remiratboi]

Nightmare

Masterlist

Unknown Tentacle Monster X Human GN Fat Reader

CW: monsterfucking, dubcon, tentacles, multiple penetration, gagging

Ever since you had moved into the small, two bedroom home at the end of the road, you’d been having nightmares. Or really, one nightmare. Over and over again. It began only a few nights in. At first you had it occasionally. Maybe once or twice a month. Then it was once a week. Then twice a week. And here you were, only about 8 months in, plagued by the same reoccurring nightmare every time you closed your eyes.

It started slow. You’d think you were just waking up in the middle of the night. You’d open your eyes to darkness. The familiar shadows spilling in from the window. Fabric softener from your blanket and light rose from your air freshener. It was comforting. Until it wasn’t.

Suddenly the darkness became unnaturally so. Thick tendrils of pure blackness would break away from the rest of your surroundings and start slithering towards you.

You couldn’t move. Not sure if it were terror or lack or reality stopping your frantic escape.

The tendrils climbed up your bed posts and licked at your ankles. Your blankets ripped away from your body. You could do nothing as the darkness climbed your limbs and slipped under your clothes. Fear froze your lips.

Slowly, the darkness would pull your legs apart and waste no time in sinking deep into your depths. Soon both your sloppy holes were being roughly pounded, soft cries slipping from your mouth. Another tendril of black would pry your lips apart and writhe down your throat. Tears formed in your eyes while you were being gagged by… something

You’re thankful for the gag when, shortly, you, yourself are writhing, and would be loudly exclaiming. Your orgasm crashed through you, hard and viciously. It catches you off guard. You feel yourself pushing back slightly to meet the thrusts of the tendrils.

After what feels like hours and too many orgasms to count, the creature dumps an obscene amount of liquid in every hole. You’re filled to the brim with it. Slowly, it slips out of you, behind the retreating tendrils.

You wake with a start, sweaty, grasping the sheet in your hands. The bed is soaked below you.

But it was just a dream, right?

It wasnt real, right?

You tell yourself, not believing. But, yet, you go about your day, never trying to move or get away from that house. You’ll go to sleep again tonight, expecting, no, anticipating tonight’s nightmare.

[ultravioletbrit]

“dark” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 298 words

James is late, and dance floor is already filled with people. He scans the crowd until he finally sees those dark curls he knows and loves.

He pushes through the mass of people but as he gets closer to Regulus he notices he’s not alone. Barty and Evan are dancing beside Regulus but there’s also some guy attempting to talk to him and Regulus does not look happy.

James moves past everyone dancing around him as quickly as he can, not caring about the snide comments when he shoves people out of his way.

James is glaring murderously at the guy but softens slightly when he turns to look at Regulus.

“Hey, love” James says, hoping he sounds calmer than he feels.

“Hi.” Regulus sighs with a mix of relief and annoyance.

“Hey, mate. We were having a conversation here.” The guy puts his hand on James’ shoulder and James’ fury returns instantly. He forcibly slaps the guy’s hand away and snaps his head around to scowl at him.

“And now you’re not.” James seethes then turns back to Regulus completely disregarding the guy.

James slides his hand to the back of Regulus’ neck as Regulus wraps his arms around James’ waist.

“You’re late.” Regulus says, but there’s a hint of a smile.

“I’m sorry.” James tells him sheepishly.

Regulus narrows his eyes but then flicks them to the side to the guy that’s still standing there like a creep. Regulus smirks and raises a suggestive eyebrow before pushing up on his toes to kiss James.

Regulus immediately deepens the kiss and James’ hand slides into those beautiful, dark curls to pull Regulus even closer. And they both forget about the creepy guy.

They break the kiss, breathlessly staring at each other. “I guess you’re forgiven.” Regulus rolls his eyes fondly and leans in for another kiss.

[ameilioninone]

LUNCH CLUB SCHLATT PLEASE..any plot but it gets a lil freaky

thanks ^_^

"You had something on your face." - Schlatt x Reader

Gn!reader

CW: mostly fluff, hints of smut near the end

this is based off this video at about 7:15! hope u enjoy :)

This is my first time writing any sort of fanfic in a LOOOONG time!! let me know if you enjoyed this and feel free to leave constructive criticism if you did not! my requests are open if you have any more ideas for fics/blurbs/hcs. thank y'all so much <3

wc: 1228

The LA sun had long set as you sat out on the back patio of the rental home with your friends. Ted was grilling hamburgers, Travis and Cooper were goofing around, and Schlatt sat beside you editing a video. TwitchCon 2019 had been a blast, and you were so thankful to hang out with some of your best friends like this, especially Schlatt. You two weren’t “together” per se, but you definitely weren’t just friends. You were really close with each other, always sitting together or talking when given the opportunity.

“Hey y/n, does this edit look alright? I tried t’ add in some old ironic MLG shit to this CS clip,” the brunet beside you piped up as he tapped your shoulder. You turned to look at his laptop screen as he began to play the sequence before pausing it. “Ah shit— you gotta hear this,” he muttered as he slid his headphones off his ears and onto yours. Even just the slight brush of his fingers on your ears was enough to make your cheeks a bit pink. You focused on the screen in front of you, silently hoping that he didn’t notice. 

He hit play on the video, intently watching your reaction as you viewed the near-shitpost level of editing he’d used on the clip. After a particularly comedic clip of Swagger saying something stupid, Schlatt paused the video as you giggled and slid the headphones off. 

“That was really good, Schlatt. Holy shit—” you wheezed. The brunet smiled widely as he took the headphones back and got back to work. 

You sat beside him as he worked, all his focus centered on the Premiere tab open on his MacBook. His dark eyes flitted across the screen as he clicked and typed away. His tongue was gently poking through his teeth, a sign he was deeply concentrated on whatever task was in front of him. You just sat back and watched him work, barely even realizing that you’d leaned over to rest your head on his shoulder. You definitely didn’t realize that Schlatt went bright red as a result. 

Dave opened the sliding door from the kitchen and stepped out onto the patio with a camera in hand, snapping you out of your trance and forcing you to sit back up straight. You smoothed out your sweatshirt awkwardly as Schlatt slipped off his headphones and looked at you with a soft smile. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “Got into watching you work.” The brunet softly chuckled. 

“‘S’all good. Boosts my ego,” he nonchalantly replied as he saved his progress on Premiere and closed his laptop. You could hear Ted and Travis talking back and forth as Dave held the camera on them, watching as Ted picked up a piece of hamburger on a fork and began walking toward Schlatt. 

“Get a taste of this, dude,” Ted confidently spoke as he waltzed over to where you and Schlatt were sitting, Dave following with the camera not too far behind. You watched intently as Schlatt hesitated for a moment while Ted brought the food up to his lips before gingerly biting it off the fork.

Holy shit. That’s all that was running through your mind as you watched the brunet taste test the burger. His eyebrows quirked up a bit as his lips parted, his eyelashes fluttering gently against his skin as he took the food into his mouth. He made slow, methodical chews as if he were a burger sommelier, a bit of juice dripping down his bottom lip. You watched as he thought for a moment before gently nodding in slight surprise, almost as if he were saying, “Damn, you were right. That’s good.” 

You could feel that familiar churning in your stomach, that familiar yearning, as you watched him be so effortlessly beautiful. The way his lips moved, his eyelashes fluttered, and the soft exhale out of his nose as he nodded—it all made you internally groan at just how much you wanted him in that moment. 

“There ya have it, folks,” Ted boasted as the camera panned over to him. Dave followed Ted back over to the grill and continued filming for a little while before turning the camera off. 

You softly smiled as you watched Ted for a moment before turning your attention back to Schlatt, noticing a small drip of the juice still on his lip. Part of you wanted to just tell him about it, and the other wanted to wipe it off for him. But what the hell were you thinking? You were never that bold, especially when it came to Schlatt. 

As you gazed at the brunet beside you for a moment, you could practically feel the confidence entering your body. You had no clue what was going on, but you mentally thanked whatever higher power had bestowed this blessing upon you. 

“Hey Schlatt,” you hummed. “Turn around for a sec.” The brunet obliged, turning to face you with a slightly confused and anticipatory look on his face.

You smiled softly before bringing your hand up to cup his jaw as you pressed your lips onto his—the mixing tastes of him and the juices from the meat creating a slightly gross yet enjoyable experience for you. You swiped your tongue across his bottom lip, cleaning up the dripping juice he’d left behind before pulling away to catch your breath. 

Schlatt looked like he’d just seen a ghost—he was pale with wide eyes and slightly swollen lips. His bewildered gaze trailed over to meet yours as the color slowly returned to his skin. 

“Wha…” he mumbled, too flustered to even properly speak. 

“You had something on your face. Figured I’d help you with it,” you softly smirked. 

The brunet’s flustered expression slowly morphed into a soft smile at your words. He leaned over to get closer to your ear, his lips barely brushing over your skin and his hot breath tickling you. 

“You don’t know what you just started,” he whispered. His suggestive words, his hot breath, the gentle hand on your thigh to balance himself—god, it was all too much. You felt chills spread through your whole body as you relished in whatever the hell was going on between you two at the moment. 

“Yeah?” you breathily replied, keeping your voice down so as not to attract the attention of Ted and the rest of the group standing around the grill. 

You could feel the shit-eating grin curl onto Schlatt’s lips at the sound of your breathy, flustered response. 

“Oh yeah. Why don’t I help you out a little bit, huh?” He slyly chuckled in your ear, also keeping his voice down for the same reason. 

Before you could even reply, you felt his arms sweep under your legs and behind your back. He easily carried you in his arms, stealthily making his way through the sliding door leading back into the house and padding down to his bedroom with you in tow. 

He plopped you down onto the softness of his bed as he kicked the door closed behind him. That same shit-eating grin was plastered on his face as he climbed onto the bed, hovering over you as he looked down at you, his voice warm and quiet. 

“Help me with something else, doll. Stay quiet. Don’t want anyone to hear your pretty little sounds but me.”

[ikemenomegas]

There's that scene in Phantom Parade where Gojo tells nanami that if he didn't go with him, he would scream and cry on the spot and in your au, id expect nanami to slowly turn to gojo's alpha and go: 😕😮‍💨

😆i have no idea the context of that interaction, sounds like something inspired by Gojo and Nanami's terrible Hokkaido work adventure, but it did make me giggle bc you're absolutely correct

"Why is he like this?"

"Hmm?" you turned slowly. Satoru had kept you up last night. You stifled a yawn. You'd spent over six hours humoring him through losing spectacularly at final fantasy fifteen. Or at least you thought it was losing, could you lose that kind of game? Either way, you were pleasantly sleepy and the world felt washed in cotton.

So you thought Nanami had spoken, but maybe that was just many years of getting good at reading the gradation of Kento Nanami's Shades of Exasperation.

Nanami was staring at you and so was Satoru, with a kind of familiar hesitation that indicated he was awaiting some kind of reaction from one or both of you. So you decided that whether or not Nanami had spoken was probably irrelevant.

Your kouhai's expression now told you he was seriously wondering whether or not you'd been hit on the head when he wasn't looking. It wasn't like you'd complain about it if you had been.

"I'll go with you, Satoru," you said, equably, gazing up into your mate's covered eyes and falling back on something that occasionally satisfied whatever mood he was in, although efficacy tended to depend upon what exactly he wanted. Where were promising to go? No clue, but hopefully somewhere where you could get something to drink. As you'd grown older, staying awake all or most of the night seemed to make you more inclined to dehydration the next day.

A loud, whiny "Noo-ooo," left Satoru's lips. They were glossy with just a slightly darker shade of pink at the center like he'd freshly applied the lip tint you'd bought him last week. He'd said it was some limited edition thing that tasted, or at least smelled like it should taste, like umeshu.

"Of course you'd come--" Satoru had continued with making a scene, and Nanami looked like he was starting to grind his jaw a little, which was a bad habit both you and Shoko had been trying to break him of, "--unless you're the kind of alpha to leave me alone--".

You reached for Nanami's shoulder to prod him but your hand was snatched from the air and enfolded into Satoru's, a jealous tint to the air that you knew was all performative. Probably.

At least that had worked. Nanami looked like his mouth was about to drop open.

You wanted to point out that Satoru was already well on the way to crocodile tears by this point. "I thought the crying was going to be for Nanami," you teased with a tired, almost fond sigh.

A loud, near approximation of a whining, petulant sob left Satoru's pink lips. You wondered if there was actually any alcohol in the lip tint. Maybe the fumes were going to his head.

"Why are you ganging up on me!?" he exclaimed, ridiculous and provocative, and clearly angling to see where this was going.

Fine. Never let it be said that you didn't know how to go for a killing blow, even against Gojo Satoru,

"Well, you look awful pretty when you cry. I just thought I'd give you a chance to show it off," you said, reaching up to cup his cheek, the very image of an alpha placating an omega.

Nanami's palm hit his face with a near audible little smack. Whoops.

Satoru snickered as he drew you up the street, long legs eating up the distance so smooth it was almost like he was gliding. You followed along, trailing for a bit just to make sure Nanami was in fact, grudgingly, trudging along in Satoru's wake.

It occurred to you that you still didn't know where he thought you were going.

[jujutsukgojo]

Can you see me too?

feitan x reader

Summary:

“Can you see me too?” He leans in slightly, your hands still in his.    You don’t know how to actually answer that. You’re looking right at him so that can’t be what he means. Or that you see him everyday at school. Feitan is asking something deeper, something you were probably wrong about.    “I’m learning too, Feitan.”

tw: mention of violence, drugs, fluff. ooc Feiten? a VERY quick write might be mistakes

“Dismissed.”

You stretch your legs before getting up. It’s happening again, that heavy feeling that creeps up on you. This has been happening a lot and you don’t like it. The chill is running up your back, making you stiff. Quickly, you gather your things and leave. Being one of the first ones out of the class, the sensation of someone’s eyes leaves. 

  Taking a deep breath, you begin to relax for a moment. Lately, someone’s been watching you and you are too afraid to see who it is. At first, you wanted to turn around and spot the gremlin. However, the person who was next to you had fear in his eyes when he looked over your shoulder. After seeing that, you gave up that idea. Especially when you had a feeling of who it or they were. 

   Being a senior, there is a group that grew up with you in elementary before you moved away for some time. Unfortunately, rather than just be normal human beings, the rumors say otherwise. Shady shit that’s illegal and atrocious. Violence and blood paint their fingertips like polish, the red not leaving without prayer for the sin. And possibly, if the rumors are true, the drugs that leave the addicts and the curious in a trance.

  At first, you just addressed them by their names since you all went to school together. But by the time everyone went into high school, they collectively were called the Phantom Troupe, or the Spider. You want to laugh at the name of their little gang since they were big nerds back in the third grade plays. 

Their acting troupe name.

Hearing it for the first time, you didn’t take it seriously until you saw it with your own eyes. Each of them ganged up on a group from another school. The Troupe was vicious and merciless. Only a few witnessed the fight, you being one of them on accident. You barely saw what scared the hell out of everyone. 

  Someone lost their eyes. You could see a few moments of the fight but you missed that gruesome part. And thank God you did. 

After that, you became fearful and no longer saw them as the kids that shared a class with you since kindergarten. 

  Now, the eyes that have been watching you everyday, you are sure it belongs to one of them. Or maybe that one stiff doll-like guy Illumi? Or the Troupe’s newest member that is the biggest flirt and an absolute freak, Hisoka. 

   When people talk to you, they must see who's watching. The reactions are all the same. Even your friend who is quick to grab you and lead you away from the stalker. 

  Did you do something wrong? Are they after you or something? Want to sell you some drugs? That little one with the long hair, Kortopi, always stands in the corners watching everyone whenever he’s not with his gang. You’re sure he’s the main dealer. Just look at him.

   So badly do you want to turn around and stomp into the classroom and demand who the fuck has been staring at you. Alas, it’s not a smart move. At least not right now. After you put your school shoes in your cubby, you feel it again. That cold intensity that causes you to shiver. For the first time, you feel it closer. Like, a few feet away type thing. 

   You shove your regular shoes on and take off out the door, not bothering to wait and say goodbye to your friend. On your way home, you still feel the eyes on you. This is exhausting beyond belief. This is worse than gym class. 

  How long can this person keep this up? Why are they watching you in the first place? Do they just want to talk to you and they’re too shy? If that’s the case, you’d show some leniency since you can be a bit of a shy bug, too. 

   As you turn the corner and see the small, family owned diner to your left, the eyes disappear. You walk faster with a light and peppy step. They could have gone home and abandoned the stalking.

   Suddenly, you’re against a tree with someone’s arms placed firmly against it, trapping you. The sun has decided to shine brightly and highlight his face. It is none other than Feitan Portor. 

   Never have the two of you been so close. Not friendly or physically. His lower face is covered by a cowl for some reason and his eyes are, surprisingly, looking like they’re different colors. They’re dark, but one is slightly deeper. His cheekbones are defined and right on top are slight freckles against his ghostly pale skin. 

   Words are stolen for what feels like minutes. Finally, your fears get the best of you. 

“Oh my God…you want to sell me drugs?” You are on the verge of crying when he has narrowed eyes. “My mom’s gonna be so mad at me. I don’t want drugs!”

  “Fei, is this her?” A tall blond, Phinks, if you remember right, comes around the corner with extremely light steps. The rest of the Troupe appear too. “No, God no. Don’t sell me drugs!”

They all stop and look at you. Each bearing an expression fit for a sitcom scene.

  “She’s not allowed to be high. Look at her, she’s the paranoid type.” The biggest one, Uvo, states. “She’s gonna turn herself in for something she didn’t even do.”

Dear Lord, they already know how high you’d be? What are they planning? You can’t go home like that. 

   Portor says nothing. He doesn’t even bother to ask which drug you’d want. Phinks steps forward. “Look, Fe-”

“Oh God…I don’t have money! Stopping giving me drugs.” Tears well in your eyes and you shake your head slowly, facing the ground.  

“We didn’t…give you anything? No one wants to give you drugs. Trust me.” You hear someone promise.

“Why you here?” He asks with his whispery voice. 

“Because I was going home and you-” He shuts you up with one look. 

They talk among themselves while Feitan Portor doesn’t move himself away from you. Your mom is going to be pissed if you come with drugs. 

“Is it crack?” You whisper. “For God’s sake-stop that! No one is going to give you anything!” Machi puts her hand on her hips as she yells at you. 

  “Is it, like, a toe? An eyeball? Please no, no-”

Porter’s soft voice cuts through yours. “Stop.”

“Mom’s going to be so mad at me if I have a random toe again.” You try to wiggle out from his trap with no avail. 

   He grabs your head. “Enough,” He turns around to face his friends, covering you. Well, somewhat since he’s on the smaller side. “Go.” 

Immediately you realize that command is for you, and you take off.

---

 

  The next day is no better. He is still staring at you but at a closer distance. He moved someone from their seat just to sit behind you. And at lunch, he sat at another table facing you. He must want something, especially when he barely shows up for school. And now he does? 

  It’s drugs or blackmail. Murder? 

Before the day was even over, the principal called for an assembly. Begrudgingly, you enter the gym and stay close to the edge rather than the stairs. You look around for your friend but find Portor next to you instead. His thigh touches yours contently. There is not a single thing out of place with him. He looks like this is normal, regular for you two to be this close. Everyone else has a few inches between them yet he wants to be glued to you. 

   You say nothing to object. In the corner sits your friend. She “subtly” points her finger at him and mouths what he’s doing. You can’t make any sudden movements or he’ll notice. 

  “You answer her?” His voice is so soft, almost drowned out from the teenagers that the principal slowly reins in. Lucky for him, his mouth is close to your ear. 

“No need. It’s, um, like, right here. She can see this.”

He furrows his brows and asks, “Is it bad?”

You shift awkwardly, fully realizing that you’re brushing up against him. “N-no, just surprising. I mean, we haven’t talked since elementary.”

  He looks forward and says with confidence, “That change. We talk now.” 

Why? 

The principal goes on about the violence in school and how it will not be tolerated. If this continues, he will sort out that police will patrol the school. You side eye Feitan Portor who still wears his cowl covering his lower face but cannot hide his smile. 

   You’re scared. 

When the assembly is over, you jump up and try to walk down the seats rather than pass Portor to go to the stairs. A teacher yells to stop walking on the benches. You ignore her completely and blend with the crowd. Your heart is pounding. You rub your chest in an attempt to calm it. Suddenly, you feel something pressed against you right as you are seconds away from the door. 

  “God!” You shout as you see that he is right next to you with his hands in his jacket’s pockets. “Let’s go.”

“W-what about your friends? They gotta be looking for you.” He walks towards you, causing you to press against the wall and walk to the door. It’s like he’s herding you out the door. You walk stiffly next to him. The sun is hiding behind the clouds, causing the shadows to emphasize his paleness. 

  Your bag and book is snatched out of your hand. He’s carrying it and continues to walk. “H-hey!”

“Walk.” Why is he carrying your stuff? Is it collateral or something? He’s holding them hostage? Oh God, what if he wants you to do something illegal or sexual in exchange for your stuff?

  Quietly, the two of you walk to that familiar tree. “Where’s your home?”

No, no, he can’t walk you home. He’ll know where you live and that would be awful. Him having that kind of information? That’s deadly. “I-I can go the rest of the way. You probably have to head home too.” 

  You reach for your things. “No. Where is it?”

“I don’t have one.” You lie. The things he could do with your address…Lord have mercy. “Lie. Where is it? I take you home.”

  “I can go-”

“(Y/n).” He remembers your name? You remember his because so much has happened and the whole class were friends. Since you didn’t talk when you moved back this year, you didn’t think he’d remember you. 

  “Portor…”

“I walk you.” Too scared, you just agree and walk to your house with the short guy in tow. Your house comes to view. “Oh, your dad’s?”

  “How did-”

“Pool?” Your eyes dart around until you remember that you hosted a pool party once. There was a slip and slide, a kiddie pool, and sprinklers. Everyone had fun and sandwiches and chips. A few of your classmates didn’t have swimsuits so your dad had them wear old shirts for them so they could play too. Now that you think of it, he was one of those that didn’t have anything. 

  “I can’t believe you remember that.” Everything to do with your dad is mostly tucked away from your mind. Portor bringing up a memory that you vowed to cherish makes you remember how much fun everything was. It was so long ago, though. Times and people change regularly. There is no reason to hold onto a memory that didn’t last long enough, right?

  “I remember that what’s-his-name slid right through the slip and slide and into the fence.” You snap your fingers repeatedly trying to remember his name. Feitan is still friends with him. 

 “Bonolenov. He wore bandages for a while.” 

“Ah, I remember that. It still didn’t slow him down.” The two of you stand there in silence. “Well, this is me. Thanks for walking me home.”

  You reach for the bag but he walks out of your reach and heads to the door. His steps are so quiet they don’t even disturb the bugs that tread along the sidewalk to your house. 

  He stops at your door, waiting for you. “I walk you home. Not on the sidewalk.” Even though he’s surrounded with violence and blood, you can’t deny that this is sweet. Suspicious as hell, but sweet nonetheless.

  “Thank you Portor.” You bounce on your feet. “It was nice talking to you.” And for reminding me of that sunny memory.

When you finally finish the day, you don’t feel as scared as you did for some reason. 

--

  “So…what’s going on? Where’s your shadow?” Your friend whispers lowly. There is a nice breeze that refreshes the overheated students. Unfortunately, there is a terrible heat advisory that is really showing its head. You have a loose blue tank top on and blue jeans which you wished you’d traded for something shorter. If this heat is making you wear a tank top and wish for shorts or a skirt, then it is hotter than satan’s breath. 

  Speak of the devil and he’ll appear, cutting right through the crowd of students under the shade, Chrollo and his posse silently intimidate those who hid under the leaves of the school’s trees. You can’t help but roll your eyes. They throw their weight around like a 1950s gang with leather jackets and a comb to fix their over gelled hair. Hell, Chrollo actually looks like the part. 

  Your friend groans next to you and fans herself and you do the same. The principal is expecting too much. You and the rest of the crowd are liable to run back inside if they don’t finish this fire drill. 

  “It isn’t a drill, you know.” She whispers yet again. You turn to her, confused. “What’re you talking about?”

   “Do you wonder why they were the last ones out?”

  “What do you think happened?” She shrugs. “I have no idea. But it’s suspicious. People are whispering about this. I mean, isn’t it weird? This happens right after the assembly that was basically for them?”

  You contribute to her curiosity. “Not to mention the lack of patrols…”

“Oh no, there were some. Where are they now, though? They were here this morning.”

  You want to change the subject. For some reason, you do feel a slight sliver of protectiveness towards them due to the memories. “This fucking heat. I can’t take this…”

  Then, a shadow stands in front of you. “Come.”

“No.” She grabs your wrist, frowning at Portor. She doesn’t trust him at all. Honestly, she has a right not to. All of the rumors that are whispered through the walls surround him like a blanket. And his demeanor doesn't help his case. “Why?” You cut in. 

  “Come with me.” Everyone is staring at the exchange. “This isn’t funny, Portor. Pick on someone else.” 

  You put your other arm around her protectively. “Um, I’ll go. It’s fine.” You try to reassure her in some kind of way. “Then I’m coming too. What’s one more person?”

 His cowl isn’t very good at hiding his expressions. He leads the two of you without a word. Under the tree is so much cooler than you expected. You feel bad for the others. 

   “Don’t worry, there are no drugs.” Phinks says, causing his other friends to laugh at your expense. 

“What’s he talking about?” Your friend leans in and “whispers”.

“They tried to make me take drugs.” You answer. Honestly, you can’t get over that. Not the drug part but how he trapped you against a tree. It was scary and unexpected. 

“No we didn’t!” Machi or Mochi corrects with her hands on her hips. Your friend rolls her eyes at her. Normally, your friend is a little on the timid side. But when it comes to these guys, she shows her dislike as if she doesn’t shake when ordering food. 

   Portor tugs you down to the ground for you to sit. Your legs are at the side of you, curled. The normally timid friend sits in between you and Portor. “I don’t trust him…” 

“You can’t whisper at all.” You tell her. She looks offended and pouts. The only noises are the few murmurs among the schoolmates and the subtle wind in the air. Still, there has been no word from the teachers. Perhaps your friend was right. 

   “Move.” Portor’s voice is soft yet firm. He stares directly at your friend with an indifferent expression. She scoffs and answers with a no. “Absolutely not.”

  “Babe, I don’t think this is a good idea.” You actually whisper. She turns to you wearing a frown. “And these people have good ones?”

  “You have no idea.” Bonolenov says. You can’t tell if he’s joking or not. There is a tense feeling in the atmosphere that reminds you of anxiety. That fight or flight response that just won’t go away as you sit in front of them. 

  “Babe…please do what he says.” You squeeze her hand once. With nonverbal agreement, she moves over for him to sit next to you. “I sit here, okay?”

  “Okay, Portor.” Your friend glares at everyone. She is rightfully suspicious of everyone. There are so many negative things said that taints their image. And their teasing isn’t doing them any favors against the allegations. 

  Your thighs touch his on accident. The wind gives a harsh blow, slightly moving his cowl. You spot a flush on his cheeks.  “Are you hot? Why not take this off?”

  You give light tugs to his jacket. “No.”

“This?” You gently move the fabric from his face. His cheeks are warm and have a youthful roundness to them. “There’s no reason to bake in the sun.”

He removes it then to your surprise, gives it to you. You thank him and don’t mention that his face is red. If you were vain, you’d think it’s because of you. But the sun is out and it’s hot. 

Your friend is bug eyed at the sight with her head cocked slightly.

  “So, this has been weird. We’re going home.” She picks you up by your arm and makes way out of the shade. You are quickly pulled towards your shadow. “Go away.”

  “Portor…”

“And leave her with you? ” She points to him. His face hardens and before anyone can make a move, you rush to intervene. “It’s alright!” You say a little too quickly and grab his hand and leave. She shouts at you as you run away. “Toots! Are you crazy?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” You yell back at her. “If you live that long! He even smells insane!”

  “ Bye!”

--

You take him and run, completely sure that you’re safe. Maybe it’s because he was nice to you and remembered the pool party. It could be how quiet he is, not needing to fill the silence. It’s relaxing that way. 

   “Here we are.” You stop in front of your house again. The plain beige paneling and the lackluster decor. The lawn needs to be mowed, you note. 

 Just as you are about to head inside your home, he grabs your hand and leads you away. His hands have calluses on them and are bigger than yours. They are paler than the upper part of his face, too. He puts them in his pockets and occasionally wears gloves, so that could be the culprit. 

   You turn around and look back at your house. Feitan squeezes your hand roughly and yanks you. You frown and debate on tugging it free. Like he read your mind, he pulls you closer. His already thin eyes squint in suspicion. 

  The little shop is small and has large windows with writing on them. The drawings are clearly done by kids. A sun in the upper corner, a tiny snowman with a large nose and a crooked hat, and so many more. 

  The bell dings when the two of you open the door. The old man at the counter perks up at the sound and smiles widely at you. 

 “Well aren’t you cute!” The old man coos. The apples of his cheeks are red and his smile makes his laugh lines more prominent, a testimony of the joy in his life. His brown eyes are small but they have a twinkle in them. He reminds you of Old Saint Nick but without the beard. 

   Portor holds two fingers up. “Crepe.” The old man puts his hand on his chin then leans into Portor’’s ear. The old baker doesn’t notice the glare he’s getting or the danger leaking from him. 

“How about you two share?” He whispers. Portor side eyes the old man. The guy clicks his tongue and finger guns at Portor. All the while, he remains silent. 

 “What flavor?” 

“Um, what would you like?” You don’t know if he likes the same thing as you. He answers with confidence. “Chocolate. You like chocolate.”

  “Well, how about the lover’s special? It’s the right amount of sweet and pretty, just like your lady.” Your cheeks get warm and you instinctively cover them. 

  “My lady would like something to drink.” My lady. Just what is he getting at? You haven’t talked to him since the science fair or a play, maybe? Nah, he’s probably being sarcastic because of what the old man said.

  “One lover’s twist, coming up.” 

You see a table and walk towards it then are interrupted by the older man who decides to direct you to a red booth that has a rounded top. If you were to look at it right, it’d remind you of a heart. “The lighting is better over here, if I may.”

  Portor sits in front of you as quiet as ever. “Why did you want to come here? I’m sure you and your friends have something to do.”

Something illegal, no doubt. 

Portor taps his fingers on the table. His eyes snap to yours when he catches you staring at his long fingers. 

  “You know already.” You frown and think back. You don’t have a clue and he’s looking at you expectantly. Right before you could ask some more questions, the old man brings out the crepe and a shake that has a cherry on top with two straws coming out of the tall glass. You thank him and dig into the shake first. As you are sipping, Portor does the same. In the corner of your eye, you see the old man trying to make it seem like he isn’t paying attention to you. 

  You take a small bite of the crepe. The flavor bursts in your mouth. The sweetness isn’t too sweet but does hit the spot. You take another bite and chew slowly, realizing that Portor hasn’t touched it. Then, you feel the pad of his thumb brush across the corner of your mouth. 

  Your cheeks are on fire. “I’m sorry. I’m a messy eater, that’s why I was going slow.” 

   His face holds no expression. The weird and heavy feeling makes you uncomfortable. “Sorry if I disgusted you.” 

“No. You okay.” Eating in front of people has made you a little insecure over the years. Your dad was a messy eater and you got that from him. “Thank you, Portor.”

He stops eating mid chew when you two hear sniffles. The old man at the counter wipes his eyes. “So cute…so many memories.” He whispers.

-

   Afterwards, he walked you home with your hand in his, guiding you back. This entire thing has been so, so weird. Yet it feels…right? Casual or normal. Nothing feels out of place except for the fact that he’s dangerous and scary. It is the shock of randomness that gets you. Walking you home, sitting next to you, and the amount of staring is so jarring it’s a fright on its own. 

   The anxiety is what you’ve been feeling under his intense stare is like being the center of attention under a microscope. It is uncomfortable. However, the heat in your cheeks isn't from embarrassment as he links his fingers through yours. 

   “Thank you for the crepe, Portor.”

“ Feitan. Not Portor.” You smile and hum, missing how his cheeks are pink and eyes twinkle for the first time in years. It’s cute.

  You come across your house once again, already dreading going inside to face your parent’s wrath for being late and not wanting this day to end. “I had fun, Feitan.” 

  He’s still holding your hand like it’s something precious he stole. “Me too.”

You don’t make a move to let go and neither does he. You know you should. You should be running away from him. A drug dealer, fighter, gangster, maybe even a murderer or at least will be one. You should pull away. You shouldn’t have entertained this for so long. 

 Yet you feel content? Happy? Comforted, maybe? There’s a word for it but you don’t know the answer right now. Not when he takes your hand and places a delicate kiss on your knuckle. 

  So, that’s why. He likes you. As in, like-like. You smile wide and try to hide your face. You’d never thought he’d have a crush on you or anyone for that matter. How sweet this is and what a cherished memory it will be. 

  And to think, that old man understood before you did. 

“Boss said you like that. It’s in books.” Boss? He must mean Chrollo. “Yeah, I do. It’s not everyday I’m treated like this.”

  He says nothing for a moment. A moment you cherish so you can regain your thoughts and attempt to stop you from being so flustered. So you can actually see him clearly. His eyes are shiny and his face is slightly flushed. You finally notice that his hair wasn’t in its usual state. Long and slightly unkempt. Instead, it looks smoother and better brushed. 

This is a date. 

Your first date. Is it his, too?

“I can see you everyday. You smile nice.” He says. His voice is still quiet and now even moreso, wanting to hide the compliment. “You have a nice smile too.”

“Feit-”

“Can you see me too?” He leans in slightly, your hands still in his. 

  You don’t know how to actually answer that. You’re looking right at him so that can’t be what he means. Or that you see him everyday at school. Feitan is asking something deeper, something you were probably wrong about. 

  “I’m learning too, Feitan.” You are. In a short amount of time you’ve seen something different. Something that was hiding in plain sight. There are still reservations because of what he does. But that’s it. It isn’t him that holds you back, it is the rumors and the fights. From what you see, this side of Feitan is sweet. This moment is something you’ll keep and hope for more of them. 

  You can see him. 

He kisses your knuckle again. “A start.”

[dantes-number-1-fanboy]

Im not back from break yet but i did revisit a short lil fic i wrote a month ago.. its not amazing (i am by no means a writer) but i like it lol

~ Conversations With a Dear Friend ~

- a dante angst fic (dantes got abandonment issues) -

"Its been a few days since the ceremony." The young man states, staring at the tombstone. A gentle breeze plays with his blue curls.

"I known Its kind of silly but im still holding on to hope that you and the others will come walking out of the forest." A soft smile decorates his face for a moment as he looks up toward the sky, sun glaring into his eyes, the heat dancing on his skin before the breeze blows it away.

"Aph..." He blinks tears from his eyes "im lost." He curses himself for almost crying out in the open like this. If hes whats left he has to stay strong. He cant be weak.

"Everyone is lost. We dont know what to do, we dont even know where to start. How the hell did you do it all on your own?" He pauses as if awaiting an answer. The longer it goes the more tears come to threaten him. It grows only worse as the silence gives him time to think of every conversation. Every "quick chat" that lasted hours and hours. The silence hurts. But talking hurts too.

"I should get going. i have a lot to get done today, your shoes sure arent easy to fill." He stands far longer than he should, hesitation obvious in his stature. "I love you... and i miss you. I wish i couldve said goodbye." A pause as he begins to cry, no longer worried about people seeing him. He doesnt care anymore. If talking causes tears its still better than the deadly lack of sound. Even if his voice is barely a whisper. Even if people see him cry. Even if hes saying things that hurt worse than death.

"..I wish i couldve known id lose my sister too." Silence. Harsh silence. He hadn't meant to say that. It barely went through his mind before leaving his lips. He looks for confort but hes alone. Fully alone. It seems that even the breeze has abandoned him to his solitude. Its as if irene herself wants him to know how lonely he is.

He stands still looking to the flowers beside him, holing for confort but the tombstone stares at him. It bores into his skin, pushing him further and further as he stands still. The gentle sun now scolding hot, his skin melting to lava. The breeze now a harsh wind, tossing and turning him in every direction. And yet nothing has changed. Its all peculiarly the same. Yet so different.

So lonely. So severely and painfully lonely. Now that he thinks about it he hasnt really  felt this way since.. since Gene. Oh. Oh irene no. Oh my beloved, benevolent, merciful, Irene please help. Save this poor boy. He can't do this alone. All his friends and family are gone, they've all left him behind.

It all feels like some sick joke. Some twisted and hateful joke. Only wishing to hurt him. To push him too far. To nearly kill him.

"Goodbye"

He can barely even whisper it out. Despite the desperation for more to be said the word feels final. Like its the last time. Like hes finally began excepting his own tragedy.

This young man. This child. Tired, lonely, and drowning under the weight of those who left him. Abandoned him. Hes been forced to except the truth. The truth that he is alone. He is alone and without salvation.

[justinegreenpie]

Happy Birthday, SSO 💖

[nyx-knacks-writes]

Just Remember That You're Still Alive

Spoilers ahead! (TW: mentions of cheating, divorce, murder, rape, etc. Stuff that the show [Broadchurch] is known to tackle. Also there is foul language.)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

For a beach town like Broadchurch, summer was undoubtedly the busiest time of the year. Wave after wave of tourists crashed down upon the town week after week, day in and day out, and tourists, as DI Hardy well knew, meant trouble.

Tourists, for the most part, were happy people with dopey smiles and loose wallets. They ran around gasping and gawking at everything, getting way too drunk, spending way too much money, and stirring up way too much shit. Bloody tourists. Needless to say, Hardy was perfectly happy to see the tourists shove off for the season.

However, despite his general disdain for the visiting population, Broadchurch didn't feel quite right without all the tourists milling around. After all, Hardy had first come to Broadchurch as one of the tourists, back when he was a little boy. Even when he'd come back to Broadchurch with Claire, it had been dead in the middle of summer, and the town's population had been accordingly swollen as compared to the colder months. All to say that he was used to seeing the town all busy and bustling and bursting with life. Now, as autumn swept in with her cool breezes and brightly colored leaves, Broadchurch had turned quiet, peaceful, and at times, just a little spooky.

Roundabout five in the morning, Hardy had found himself staring up at the ceiling from his bed, utterly incapable of going back to sleep. He tossed and turned and, for a moment, debated simply getting up and starting his day. But Daisy, so far as he knew, was sleeping soundly in the next room over, and the floors creaked, and the doors squeaked, and the kettle shrieked, and he just knew it would be impossible to run through his morning routine without waking her up. This would result in a grumpy teenage daughter on his hands. Not really an ideal 'first thing in the morning' scenario. He'd at least like to get the poor girl to school in a neutral mood rather than outright bad.

It was funny, he mused, resigned to an hour or so of continuing to stare at the ceiling, how catching murderers and rapists hardly even made him break a sweat, but the prospect of dealing with a crabby teen kept him firmly in bed like a scared little boy. But he didn't have to worry about screwing up the development of murderers and rapists as they grew into adults. One way or another, that had already been done. Daisy, on the other hand, was his sweet, precious daughter, his little girl who wasn't quite so little anymore. He did have to worry about screwing up her development. Actually, that had already happened, given the divorce and the cheating and the falling out with her mother, even though pretty much all the blame on those was down to Tess. So it was more on him to help her work through those unfortunate events and try not to put his foot in his mouth and/or get himself killed in the meantime. Sure. No sweat.

Alec shook his head and sighed as his thoughts meandered on over to Tess. Oh, Tess. He had dearly loved her, really. He was just... exceedingly poor at showing it. And that was being generous. He was missing her more than ever. After his unsuccessful attempt to reunite their family, and after taking Daisy back down to Broadchurch, and after the Danny Latimer trial and finally solving the Sandbrook case and catching Trish's rapist, well... his head had been quiet. He'd had more space for her in his mind. And she'd filled up that space about as quickly as it had become available. He knew that he really shouldn't be missing her. After all, her cheating had ultimately been the fuck-up (no pun intended) that had royally screwed up his career and caused the divorce. But he missed her anyway.

At the very least, she knew what it had been like to be a teenage girl, even if that knowledge was time-blurred, shadowy, and belonged to a bygone era. She better understood how to navigate the ups and downs and sideways-es of cliques and crushes and whacked-out-hormones making you think up was down and left was right. All he could do was threaten—er, instruct teenage boys not to play around with his daughter lest they incur the horrible, hair-raising wrath of DI Hardy.

A soft groan slipped out of Alec's mouth as the thought of teenage boys called to mind the Photo Fiasco from Daisy's first few months in Broadchurch. He was nearly certain that that had been the worst time of Daisy's life, perhaps tied with the divorce. She'd been new in town, she'd been completely at odds with her mother, she'd had a father who was busy just about to the point of being neglectful, and to top it all off, her shiny-new friends had turned against her and spread her intimate photos in what had to have been the worst betrayal poor Daisy had ever suffered.

Alec imagined it must have felt like the dreaded 'naked in school' dream come to life. Not that he thought she had any business taking those sorts of photos to begin with. He didn't care if she was technically an adult. The human brain didn't finish developing until, what, twenty-five? She still had a ways to go, and if she'd never taken the photos, the whole situation would never have come to pass. But that seemed like victim-blaming to him. Was that victim-blaming? It was true, logically, but... Maybe it was best he'd never said that to her. In any case, this was the sort of incident that tended to stick (oh, goody, another thing to screw up her development) both personally and professionally. It wasn't the sort of thing he ever thought would happen to his daughter. Maybe he could ask Miller for tips. She knew what it was like to be a teenage girl, despite not knowing what it was like to raise one. Yes, he could ask Miller.

Hardy shifted onto his side, watching as the deep blue of night gave way to a gray, foggy morning. At least it wasn't—nope, thought too soon. Rain began to patter down upon his window, and thunder rumbled outside like the snore of a giant. Even Mother Nature didn't want him to get out of bed. He rolled over to check the alarm clock and nodded to himself. Six o'clock. Good enough.

At last, DI Hardy lifted himself out of bed to face the day, ignoring the pops and pains that marked his age. He made his way to the door with a yawn and a stretch, mentally adding another task to the to-do list. He needed to take Daisy to school. He couldn't have his little girl arriving to school soaked, could he? After all, she'd complained before that the building was too cold. At last, he went to wake her, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. Another day was officially beginning, whether he was ready for it or not. Another day full of trial and error, failure and success. And he wouldn't miss it for the world.

[faytelumos]

Into the Black With a Matchstick, pt5

I have no idea what the word count here is but this feels kinda long. @_@

Also, I am so sorry for all of the exposition; I am trying to make it gentle but it feels like a lot! I think we're at/almost at the hump of this story, though! :0

@c00kieknight, @hypersomnia-insomniac, @jxm-1up, @midnight--architect, @robinparravel

@thepotatoofnopes, @those-damn-snippets

@mr-orion, @tildeathiwillwrite, @thelazywitchphotographer

cw: some peril, descriptions of vertigo and vomiting

first previous

---

Ten minutes.

That was no time at all.

The Skel. What in the name of Creation were the Skel doing in this sector? Paxie was here to monitor smuggling, to discourage unlicensed vessels from flying, to report unusual star activity.

The squad of five ships were not equipped for a skirmish with them.

"All ships!" Paxie ordered across the emergency channel. "Spool FTL drives and make heading for nearest fallback position! Defensive power allocations!" Ten minutes. Ten minutes! If the ships weren't all ready in time, if the Earthlings couldn't get ready in time—

They had no FTL travel—

"Ready automated fighters to scramble!" they added hurriedly.

The Earthlings. What were they going to do about the Earthlings.

Kime was scrambling, and she clamored in a rush through the narrow hallway. Paxie got out of her way as she bumped and clawed her way to the shuttle.

"Admiral!" Klte hissed. They looked back towards the med bay to see it looking at them, its helmet already back on its head. "The Earthlings!"

"I know," Paxie barked affirmatively. They couldn't leave this ship behind. But there was no way for it to possibly travel fast enough to keep up.

"Admiral," Harrison said, stepping into the hall. His eyes were wide, and his skin was pale. Paxie worried for a moment he might faint again. "How do your faster than light engines work?" Paxie blinked. They had no idea. And why was this a question to ask? Surely there was no way for the Earthlings to make an FTL drive in ten minutes with the technology available on this ancient ship. "Do they dematerialize?" he asked. "Do you use wormholes? Is it a space deforming drive?"

"It-it warps the shape of space," Klte hissed. Harrison turned sharply to look at them. Ramirez stepped into the hall.

"Does the space around the ship remain unchanged?" Harrison asked. "Is it distorted inside of the rings?"

What was the Earthling talking about? How did he know how FTL drives worked if Earth didn't have them?

"No," Klte said, their voice almost awed. "No, it's distorted in a bubble through the rings and projectors." Harrison turned sharply to Paxie.

"Admiral, we have to move this ship onto the belly of one of your vessels," Harrison said. "If your ships have ferrous hulls, we can clamp onto you to avoid falling off. But we have to begin maneuvers now."

"That's out of the question," Paxie breathed, blanching. The risk of the ship falling out of alignment and crossing the warp barrier.... "If you fall away, your ship will be smeared across open space."

"And what are the chances of the incoming vessel killing us?" Ramirez asked. She was stoic again. The look in her eyes was... haunting. She had the focus of any Xoixe. Of any apex.

Paxie looked again to Harrison. To Klte.

"Unless you have a ship large enough to dock our vessel, we don't have time to think of another solution," Ramirez said. And Paxie didn't. This mission had been routine, and the Earthling's ship was too large and awkwardly shaped to store on any of the Xoixe craft.

They opened a channel to Captain Eme.

"Captain, prepare The Water's Kiss to align and attach to the Earthling vessel, belly-to-belly."

"A-Admiral?!" Eme choked.

Ramirez and Harrison both sprinted to a different room in the ship.

"They know the risk, Captain, and it was their idea."

"This species is completely suicidal," Eme gasped. Paxie considered the conversation Ramirez and Kime had just had.

"I'm inclined to agree," they breathed. Then they looked up to Klte. "Into the shuttle, we have to get back."

"Aye, sir," it said, already getting down on all eight and running headlong for the airlock.

Adina could hear Paxie making their massive way back to the shuttle from the gear room. John swore again, yanking on the thermal regulation layer, and Adina finally managed to get her damned cryo suit off of her body.

"What a fuckin' day," John gasped, getting the tight-fitting undersuit on and zipped up. Adina just laughed bitterly. She'd barely gotten two minutes with the damn IV before she had to yank it out of her arm again.

John shrugged the top half of his spacesuit on just as Adina heard the low-pitched thump of the outer airlock door sealing. A moment later, there was a deep clang as the alien shuttle detached. "Solstice!" Adina barked, yanking her thermal layer into place. The computer chimed. "Override collision controls and roll ship 180 degrees!"

"Right away, Doctor Adina Ramirez," the computer said in its slow, melodic, feminine voice. The ship immediately began to tilt.

"Shit," John hissed, stumbling as he stood on one leg, stepping into the bottom half of his suit.

Once John finished suiting up, he helped Adina get clamped down. They both waddled to the bridge.

"Which chair do I sit in?" Adina cried.

"How many sim hours did you log?" John asked. Adina stuttered, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to remember.

"Um, uh, uh, th-three hundred and f-forty!"

"You're on comms," John said, pointing to the first chair on the left. He took the one mounted facing forward, and she thanked whatever the fuck was left of God that it wasn't up to her to fly this thing.

There was already a hail request open, and when Adina answered it, she got video of the purpley-green Xoixe.

"Earthlings, you have six minutes before the Skel arrive!" the thing boomed. John swore.

"Adina, are you buckled in?"

"N-no!"

"Get buckled, we have to move!"

Adina stumbled and grasped, her breathing coming loud and hard. The buckle was large, made to be used even with the massive spacesuit gloves, and she was able to get strapped in even as the ship kept spinning.

"I'm in!"

The ship lurched downwards, and Adina squeezed her eyes shut against the vertigo.

"Collision shield disabled!" someone in the room on the alien ship cried.

"Away vessel successfully docked!" another announced.

"FTL fully spooled! Bubble zone partially obstructed!"

"Lieutenant Harrison, you have to move faster!" the alien captain cried. Adina could barely hear them over the sound of her breathing. She kept her eyes closed, trying not to remember how close the helmet was to her face, trying not to think about what would happen if they got stuck here or sliced apart in the warp bubble, trying not to think about how it felt like she was going to throw up again.

"If I hit you too hard, I'll bounce off and lose my alignment!" John yelled back over his shoulder.

"Harrison, we don't have time, I promise you will not bounce off of our hull!" the captain yelled back. "Clear the bubble zone, now!"

John swore loudly and Adina cried out when he punched the maneuvering thrusters. It felt like they were free-falling, the entire ship rushing down faster and faster, flinging her stomach into her lungs, and then they slammed to a stop so fast that Adina's teeth cracked shut.

"Bubble zone clear!"

"Engage drive!"

The entire ship seemed to yank to the right, like some kind of twisted roller coaster and rubber band hybrid. Then everything shuddered all at once, and then there was aching, deafening stillness.

Adina could hear her panicked breathing like it was blasting through an amp right next to her face. Her head was spinning like a top but she knew in her body the cabin was unnaturally still. Her breathing picked up — she heard it more than felt it — and suddenly she was scrambling at the latch of her helmet, her gloved fingers clawing at the bottom of her visor.

She got the helmet off in time, but forgot about the seat buckle. The channel was still open in front of her as she coughed up bile. Her ears were ringing. She didn't feel any better at all.

"Adina?" John said. He held her face in his gloved hands, suddenly standing next to her. "Hey, can you stand?" Adina closed her eyes. She would have shaken her head, but even the thought made her want to wretch again.

"N, hh, n, nn-nn...."

"Stay right here, then," John uttered, letting go of her. "We seem stable, so I'm gonna grab the IV again." Adina couldn't speak, and she couldn't move her head, so she just kept trying to breathe.

---

By the time Paxie got out of their suit, The Water's Kiss was well away from where it had come across the Earth vessel. Once again in open hallways, free of the environment suit, Paxie had abandoned propriety and sprinted for the command room.

They ran full-out, their claws scraping against the decks, their blood rushing. Everything was sharp. Their scales buzzed, and they were keenly aware of how hard their muscles were pumping to move them like this. Their body was alight, electrified. Their mind was focused, the Earthling pair their only thought.

They burst into the command room and slowed, their scales itching. They scraped their claws against the deck, panting hard, eyes snapping to the front of the bridge. There was an open channel, and Captain Ramirez was slumped in the display, breathing hard as Lieutenant Harrison worked around them.

Paxie relaxed, and the weight of fatigue settled over them. They padded heavily to the captain's chair. Eme flinched when they came into view and hurriedly vacated the seat. Paxie laid down in it, their chest heaving, and laid their claws down flat.

The Earthlings survived the initial jump. Good.

"Status report," Paxie huffed.

"The Earthling vessel is secured to the bottom hull, sir," Eme explained. "Our Ghost volunteered to engineer the dampener settings to keep them stable. We've evacuated the bottom two decks to keep our personnel from getting sick, but…." Eme glanced at the screen. Ramirez was trembling, and Harrison was wiping their face with the same thing they had given him earlier.

"She'll be okay," Lieutenant Harrison said. It felt all too familiar, to have Ramirez looking close to death and Harrison dismissing the matter. Perhaps it was another quirk of the species. Another avenue of their… self-destructive attitude. "We didn't suffer any damage during the maneuvers, thankfully," Harrison added. He stooped down to look into the feed from over Ramirez's shoulder. "We didn't hurt anything, did we?"

"N-no," Eme said. He was keeping his voice very proper. "No damage was sustained during maneuvers, and we did not have to scramble any automated fighters to escape." He looked again to Paxie. "All four vessels reported clean spool and initiation. We'll arrive at the fallback position five minutes behind them."

"It's going to be a long five minutes for them," Paxie mused. Maybe it felt closer than it was, but Paxie had been terrified the new aliens were going to get The Water's Kiss killed, or die in the retreat, themselves. If it was them waiting at the fallback position for a ship to arrive, they were sure they'd be inconsolably worried.

"Captain Ramirez, Lieutenant Harrison," Paxie said. Harrison looked up, but Ramirez only grunted. She was clearly in bad shape. And she wasn't getting better the way Harrison had. Paxie swallowed thickly and straightened up taller. "On behalf of the Interstellar Federation of Alliance, I, Admiral Uten Paxie, offer you and your species sanctuary. Under Article six of the Orphaned Body protocol, you all will be afforded medical care, nutrition, and housing without the need to prove citizenship of the Federation."

Harrison was staring at Paxie now. He curled one side of his lips upward, and chuffed softly. Ramirez seemed to be barely lucid. Paxie flattened their ears.

"As the commanding officer of this squadron, and your current head of authority, I'm authorizing an extended rest for the two of you," they went on. Harrison's expression went back to something more neutral. "You are both excused from any further duties for the day, and are not required to check in at a specific time."

Harrison nodded his head. He looked more serious now, more focused, the way Ramirez had earlier. He kept his hand on Ramirez's shoulder the entire time.

"Will do, Admiral," he said. He then gently patted Ramirez's shoulder. "We'll… hail you when we're feeling better."

"See that you do," Paxie said. "Rest well."

Harrison nodded again. Paxie nodded to the communications officer, who cut the feed. Then they took a long, deep breath.

"Announce ship-wide rest," they exhaled. "Keep half again extra medical staff on standby."

"Yes, sir," Eme said, opening the ship-wide channel.

---

Paxie roused with a start when their door chimed. They checked the time. It had been almost seven hours since rest had been announced. They still had another hour left.

They clambered up and out of their low bed, then padded over and hit the floor control for the door. It slid open, revealing a Qomo officer.

"The Earthlings have roused," it announced in the Xoixe language. "They've requested council with you and a highly skilled xenomedic at your convenience." Paxie quirked their jaw.

"Has something gone wrong? Are they injured?"

"No, sir," it said, "Captain Ramirez seems to be fairing better, already. But they wish to discuss the lives of their crew."

That was right. Ramirez and Harrison were the only crew members who had been thawed from their cryonic sleep, but there were more Earthlings than them on board. They would all need to be awoken as soon as possible. Keeping any creature in such a state, let alone for so terribly long, was absurdly inhumane.

"Very well. Rouse Ensign Kime and Lieutenant Tapide."

"Aye, sir."

Once Paxie was refreshed and the two xenomedics were gathered, the three entered the bridge. There was an open channel, already, and the second captain stood and relinquished the chair to Paxie. Paxie nodded their head and padded over, but they watched the feed distractedly.

Nobody was in frame. They could tell they were looking at a part of the ship near the helm station, but all there was to see was metal and wiring.

"Captain Ramirez?" Paxie said. They switched on the translation protocol when their words weren't repeated. "Lieutenant Harrison?"

There was a metal clatter. One of the Earthlings said something too quiet for the translation protocol to pick up. Then Harrison came into view. He looked pinker in the face now, and his eyes seemed clearer. He bore his teeth widely.

"Admiral, hi," he said. He was very close to the screen, and the untranslated version of his voice was loud. "How did you sleep?"

Paxie huffed a laugh.

"I think I should be asking you that," they said. "Is Captain Ramirez okay?"

"She's much better now," Harrison said, looking off-screen in the direction he'd come. Then he looked back to them. "She slept like a rock and got some water in her, so now she actually looks like a scientist."

"I can hear you!" Ramirez's voice shouted from off-screen. She sounded agressive, but Harrison was laughing, baring his teeth. Paxie quirked their ears. He didn't seem to be worried about confrontation or repercussions.

"Anyway, Admiral, we have a few questions," Harrison said, hiding his teeth again. He moved, and seemed to lower himself before the screen. Perhaps resting in that odd chair design. He was serious now. "We have around two hundred people on this vessel, six of which are presumed dead."

Paxie jolted, eyes wide. "What happened?" they demanded. "How long have they been dead?"

"They failed to wake from cryo sleep."

Paxie stared. Eight creatures had been awoken from cryo sleep? And only two of them had survived? They knew cryogenic stasis was cruel, but to be so dangerous?

"What is the state of the six individuals?" Lieutenant Tapide asked. She wasn't Xoixe, but a species with long, bright green and blue feathers across her body, small, delicate hands, and a smaller, more delicate voice.

"Once they fail to wake, the system re-suspends the body," Harrison explained. "The hope there is that they'll be preserved enough to resuscitate, if it's an option."

"Then they haven't been dead long enough to degrade?" Tapide asked. She was already going through information on her tablet beside Kime.

"That's the hope," Harrison said. He lowered his voice now, looking away. "We haven't exactly… checked on them. In person. But the computer says they're still viable."

Paxie felt a pang in their gut. Harrison wasn't looking at the feed now, and he had dropped his voice. Nobody knew the body language of these creatures yet, but this was not what they had observed as Harrison's normal demeanor.

Two hundred Earthlings. And six of them were possibly dead. What may have been a small wound to the Xoixe was a great blow to the Earthlings. No planet, no bearings, no familiar species, hunted in open space, and with barely enough of them left to survive.

Paxie rested their weight further back, dizzied with the idea. They could have very possibly witnessed an extinction event had the Earth ship not made it away with The Water's Kiss, had they not made such a risky and unsound exit plan. Not just the death of intelligent life, but the death of an intelligent species.

It was a difficult prospect to swallow.

"We're unable to dispatch a medpod to you during our jump," Tapide said. Paxie looked to her. She was especially unflappable among her people, they knew this, but it always took Paxie off-guard. "How accessible are your cryogenic compatriots?"

"Uh, well," Harrison said, glancing between Paxie, Kime, and Tapide. Paxie already knew Tapide would fit in the Earthling ship better than they did, but still not as well as the Earthlings. And since their spaces seemed to be made compact on purpose, they could only imagine what the stasis array looked like. "We would probably want to remove the pods from our stasis chamber. We can take them wherever you need to work on them once we've… landed?" Harrison raised his shoulders and twisted his hands to be downside-up, then relaxed again. "I don't know how it works."

"Once our jump is concluded, we can dock properly and shuttle your pods aboard," Paxie explained. "The Water's Kiss should have plenty of resources to evaluate your kin, and determine their revivability."

Harrison nodded, looking down. "Okay," he said. "How long until the jump is over?" Paxie turned and looked to the engineering station, manned by the off-rotation crew member. Eme knew their name, but Paxie didn't.

"We have another six hours," the engineer announced. Paxie didn't let it show how disappointed they were to hear that. They couldn't send or receive any messages while jumping, which meant they weren't going to get any further answers, and couldn't even consult command.

This was probably the worst First Contact in recorded history.

"Alright," Harrison said. He got to his feet again. "I guess we'll see you in six hours, then."

"Very well," Paxie said. "If you have further needs, do not hesitate to hail us again."

"Thanks," Harrison said, and he bore his teeth. He reached for the screen, but then stopped suddenly. "Oh, and before I forget," he said. "Thank you for sending the-the Ghost over."

Paxie tilted their head.

"The Ghost is there?"

Harrison raised the fur patches over his eyes.

"Oh," he said, turning to where he had come onscreen from. "Uh…." He glanced to the screen again.

Paxie heaved a long sigh. They hadn't cleared the Ghost to go aboard the Earthling vessel, but they supposed they hadn't specifically barred it, either. This Ghost wriggled through regulations like water through a leash.

The video feed blurred briefly, and then Harrison moved aside. A transparent, blue-gray mass waved into frame, seeming briefly to obscur the video with a sparse star field.

"Greetings, Admiral," the translation protocol said. Paxie withheld a laugh.

"Hello, Weak Force. You were supposed to wait to be introduced." Paxie couldn't help but notice their words weren't translated to the Earthling language, despite the translation protocol still being active.

"These creatures took my appearance with great grace," the automated voice said. "They understand better than we expected, and did not require coaching to comprehend me."

"Oh, that's good," Paxie said. When Harrison had… fainted, well…. Paxie wasn't worried now, because he seemed fine. But he would have been if Ramirez had been the one on screen, and Harrison remained hidden.

"Admiral," the voice said again. The blur on the video solidified somewhat, obscuring much of the background in a faint haze. "I have been searching through the data on this vessel, and I have discovered two important things." Paxie nodded for it to continue. "Number One: The Earthling vessel, The Solstice, had its course artificially altered, beyond the influence of celestial bodies or the intention of the crew." Paxie blinked, but before they could ask about it— "Number Two: These Earthlings are the species self-designated as Human, currently known as the Five-Fingered Ones, from the planet Areterra."

Areterra? Paxie knew that planet.

"They're from the same planet as the Mauilen," Kime gasped.

Paxie's eyes widened.

"That's excellent news," Paxie said. They looked to Tapide and Kime. "We'll need to adjust for environmental shift, but this should mean we know their chemical biology already."

"Correct, sir," Kime said, typing eagerly on her tablet. "We'll want to run tests first, but we should know then what medicines and foods will work for them."

"Admiral," the voice said. Paxie looked to the screen again. "It would be prudent for the Federation to treat the route alteration of this vessel as sabotage."

Paxie felt almost cold to hear those words. Sabotage. But it seemed as likely as anything else. But if these Humans were from Areterra, then there was more to know here.

Areterra's biological lexicon had no example of a species like the Humans. So there was less hope that their twenty-six million year mission clock was a malfunction. And it would cause some unprecedented administrative strife, assuming it was accurate. Did it mean they were truly an orphaned species then? Perhaps it was up to if they could survive the current climate of their planet? If it truly had been so long as that? Would the Mauilen have any responsibility over them, or would these two species be treated as entirely independent? Did the Maulien have any responsibility to home the remaining Humans and the method by which they rehabilitated their numbers, or was that weight solely on the Federation?

Paxie shook their head subtly. These were not questions for a patrol admiral.

"Thank you, Weak Force," Paxie said.

"Signing off," the voice said. The feed cut, then, leaving the bridge in silence.

"This is exciting," Kime uttered. Paxie wasn't so sure. And they couldn't help but wonder how old the Skel were, and if they were or had ever been capable of sabotage like this.

"Notify Gunnery Sergeant Appi," Paxie said. "When rest is concluded, she will be to meet me in my office."

[the-star-fox-writes-poetry]

the ghost at the banquet- April 7

[remiratboi]

Debt To Pay

Masterlist

Pay My Debt With Your Body Trope

4 Military Men X GN AFAB Fat Reader

CW: bdsm, forced, r@pe, non con, dubcon, gang bang, multiple penetration, oral, anal, dp, gaslighting, gambling, military troop

You marched down the hallway pissed off as all hell. Your boyfriend was supposed to have been home hours ago. He ghosted you all evening then sent some dumb, half assed drunk text begging you to come pick him up.

You couldn’t believe him. He wasn’t normally like this. He was wonderful to you. Yeah, his deployment was hard, really hard. But he was worth it.

So what the fuck was he doing now? You worried that this might be signs of something deeper.

No. You told your self. You’re over reacting. It’s one bad night.

You wrapped your knuckles on apartment 408 and crossed your arms. He had better answer fast.

It took far too long for him to open the door. You were about to lay into him, when you realized he hadn’t opened the door.

“Hayden?” You snapped at the annoyed looking man who opened the door. “Where’s Adam?”

“He’s just grabbing his stuff. Come in.” Hayden nodded his head back into the room before turning and walking in. You rolled your eyes and followed him.

The door slammed shut behind you, and before you even had time to yelp in surprise, you were tackled to the ground. A heavy hand snaked over your mouth.

“Shhh, shhh. None of that.” Your boyfriend’s sultry voice soothed in your ear. You roiled at the recognition and fury raced through your body. You whipped your head back to smack his, but he deftly moved out of the way.

He struggled you up and off the ground and held you against his chest, hand still over your mouth.

“Alright baby, here’s the deal.” You stared wide eyed at the three other men you hadn’t noticed until now. They stood in a crescent in front of you. Your boyfriend’s voice was rough. “Let’s just say I lost some money to these guys here.” He gave you a peck on the cheek. It felt like betrayal.

“You know them, remember?” He asked in an all too casual tone. “These are my boys, my troop. I’ve been to hell and back with them and I’m not the type to skimp out on debt.”

The arm wrapped around your chest, squeezed. “But, I just kept losing, baby. You know how I am.” He chuckled darkly. “So we came to an,” he shrugged. “An understanding. Tonight, you are going to pay off my debts. And we are all going to have a great time.”

With that he shoved you forward into the arms of the other men. You tried to scream, but a gag was swiftly and roughly shoved into your mouth. Their hands were all over you. You couldn’t even tell who did what. Your clothes were ripped from your body. It happened so fast, you were reeling just trying to process what was happening. It didn’t feel real.

The men, Hayden, Marc and the one whose name you couldn’t remember but had labelled “beefcake” to only yourself, touched you, everywhere. Adam, your boyfriend, was calling encouragements from the side.

In moments you were naked. They squeezed and pinched all over your thick thighs, your stomach, your chest. One of them pulled tight on your nipple. You cried out and fought back as hard as you could. But there wasn’t much to be done against 3 strong, very capable men.

“Damn, you weren’t lying about that pretty pussy, cap.” Beefcake said to Adam. Of course it would be beefcake.

“Mmhmm.” He practically moaned back. You knew that tone he used. You were shocked to realize he was enjoying this. Your lovely, sweet, kind boyfriend, was enjoying watching his partner being attacked by his friends. A sob wracked through your chest.

“And look at that ass.” Marc whistled. He gave it a hard smack. You cried out behind your gag. “Baby, you need to start showing that thing off! Damn you’re hot as fuck.” You couldn’t help but blush. It wasn’t every day people showed your chubby body the appreciation it deserved.

Someone’s fingers played with your fat pussy. They were dragging their fingers up and down your slit, dipping in, but never fully entering you. You couldn’t help it as you started to feel wet.

“Damn, this sluts getting wet!” Hayden said. So it was him teasing you. “Yo Adam, you never told us what a slut they are.” Both men laughed.

“Wait till you try their head.” You heard Adam make a chefs kiss sound.

That sealed it. The boys weren’t just messing around. You heard a series of zippers, and felt Hayden pressing his cock against your cunt.

“Be a good slut, now.” He mounted you from behind. They shifted and Beefcake brought his cock to your lips. He ripped the gag off.

Hayden and Beefcake both forced their way in at the same time. If your mouth hadn’t been full of cock, you’d be screaming. Hayden was big, and you weren’t ready. The stretch was incredible.

As fast as it had all happened, they were now pounding into you from both ends. Marc had lowered himself under you and wrapped his mouth around your nipple. His fingers snaked up to rub your clit.

There was so much happening all at the same time and you couldn’t stop it. You felt your orgasm building. You redoubled your efforts, thrashing and kicking out. The men just laughed. You screamed around Beefcakes cock as both men came inside you. Your orgasm crashed through your body. Your eyes rolled back in your head.

They swapped. Marc sunk his cock into your sloppy cunt. Adam took Beefcakes place at your mouth.

“Yeah, you really are a slut.” Adam said fondly as he looked down on you. Marc set a brutal pace and soon you came again on his cock. Adam forced you to stare in his eyes as Marc came deep in your pussy. He followed shortly after.

The night continued like that. For hours they rotated who fucked what hole, and they took everything from you. You barely even remember everything. By the end of the night you were only half conscious, fucked out and dazed. You came more than a dozen times, your body exhausted and sore.

*******

You woke hours later, the morning sun just barely started to peek through the windows. You were in your bed. Your favourite candle burned and a large glass of ice water sat on your bedside table.

Adam kissed your shoulder gently and pulled you back against his chest. You were wrapped in his arms and your blankets.

“You did so good baby. I’m so proud of you.” You snuggled back into his body. “Did you have a good time? Was it what you wanted?” He asked.

You nodded. A huge smile split your face. You were still sleepy and dazed, but utterly content.

“I love you so much baby.” Adam spoke lovingly.

“Did you have a good time?” You asked. Your voice cracked, your throat more sore than you expected.

You felt him nod. “It was a little scary, being so mean to you. But I know it’s what you wanted, and honestly, you were so fucking hot” he chuckled. “I got over it pretty quickly.”

You blushed and nuzzled into your blanket, cozy and warm.

“Uh, fair warning though, the guys…” he laughed again. You felt nervous. Had they not liked it? Had they not liked your body? “Well, let’s just say they are going to be begging you to let them fuck you again.”

“… Really?” You asked innocently.

“Baby, that wasn’t just talk. All three have been crushing on you for years, and now, well, now it’s gonna be a lot harder to dissuade them.” He kissed up your neck. “But I don’t mind sharing.” Adam teased. “As long as you’re happy, I’m happy, my love.”

[whump-softie]

Eddie

Masterlist

When the meeting was over, Eddie knew two things.

One, he was no longer his own person. He had been stolen, then sold. Property.

Two, there was only one thing worse than someone he knew being the buyer. It was someone nobody knew. It was just a man with a lot of money.

Driving away was the scariest thing Eddie could think of. He was leaving too many things behind; his parents, brothers, his dog. He must’ve known he would never see them again, but he supposes it hasn’t set in yet. He was in shock. He must be.

The car stops, and nothing happens. The man driving was just an employee, a stranger that met him at the door and guided him to a backseat. Eddie presumed he didn’t have a lot of money, if he had to be the driver. It didn’t really matter. Nothing really mattered, anyway, if all he was meant to do was be property.

Eddie is guided to his feet, then through a large metal gate. Through front doors, then down hallways and up staircases. Rooms with open doors held normal furniture, with the occasional maid or servant. No real people, which was nerve wracking. Where did all the people go? Why was he the only one?

A room at the end of the hallway, and the stranger was telling Eddie to wait. Stand and wait here. For what, he didn’t know. For who, he dare not think it. Monsters lay at the edges of the room, shadows that Eddit turned into men with guns, angry mobs just edging to get their hands on him. This person could be anybody, anything.

His body was frozen to its spot, mind racing. What was he supposed to do in this situation?

The door opened. A man walked in.

Went around the desk in the center of the room, and sat down, fixing his suit as he settled. He looked up to meet Eddie’s eyes.

“Why aren’t you on your knees?”

Eddie didn’t even register the words when a blow came from behind, hitting him in his right side. His ribs seemed to shatter, and the wind was knocked from his lungs. 

He doubled over, coughing to his knees. The man didn’t even flinch.

“That’s better,” he said satisfactorily. “We’ll have to work on your efficiency, but this will do.”

He jerks his head up quickly to view the bodyguard behind the newest employee. “Take him to the rooms, would you?”

A grunt escapes the guard, who grabs Eddie’s hair, and starts to drag him out of the room. Kicking and screaming, they make it out into the hallway and the door closes.

Eddie struggles, his hands desperately grabbing onto the arm attached to his hair, fingers snaked through to the scalp.

It hurts, gods, it hurts. It felt like his head was going to detach, his scalp ripped clean off. Pain spread through his side, where he was hit, and now his back, where he’s being dragged against hardwood floors. The unrelenting grip doesn’t hold back, and tosses Eddie into a seemingly random room, and then doubles down and punches him in the same side.

Eddie groans, collapsing to his knees again. His ribs ached, stomach heaving. This situation is familiar, but now he’s alone. The room is empty, spare a cot in the corner. Not even a window.

His new home.

[in-the-shadow-of-the-blog]

In the Shadow of the Ashwinders

Summary: After a camp of Ashwinders puts up more than she bargained for, MC find herself in a painful situation. But she can’t keep secrets from her dueling partner…

(Sebastian x f!MC (Hufflepuff again because I just can’t help myself))

Rating: PG

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: Light description of a non-serious injury (no blood)

—

Sebastian stopped short beside the Hufflepuff table as he finally spotted the face he was looking for. The Great Hall was nearly empty this time of day. But MC, as was often her habit, sat with a book open in front of her and a plate bearing two small cakes to the side.

“There you are, MC,” said Sebastian. “Ready for Crossed Wands this afternoon? I hear we have some stiff competition.”

MC looked up at him suddenly, and Sebastian realized she hadn’t been reading the book as much as she had been staring at it. There were dark circles under her eyes, and a minor cut on her cheek that looked fresh. He raised an eyebrow while he waited for her response.

“I think I’ll give it a miss today, Sebastian. I have a lot of work to catch up on this week.”

Sebastian flounced into the seat beside her, earning a wary look from Arthur Plummley, seated at the other side of the table. “MC, why are you lying to me?” He asked simply.

MC glanced toward Arthur, who seemed to be pointedly ignoring them. “Why would I be lying?”

Lowering his voice, Sebastian said, “We both know you’ve had all of those assignments done for ages. Even Sharp is impressed at how well you’re doing. You’ve always had time for Crossed Wands before.”

“Well, today I don’t,” said MC. “I’m sorry Sebastian, but you’ll just have to go without me.”

Sebastian gave her a knowing look. “You snuck out again last night, didn’t you? I can’t believe you haven’t been caught, or gotten yourself killed. What was it this time? Goblin encampment or crypt filled with spiders?”

“Ashwinders,” MC hissed. “I got into a scrap with some Ashwinders, all right?”

Sebastian’s eyes widened. “Seriously? No wonder you look so rough this morning.”

MC scoffed at him.

“Well, you do,” he told her. His face softened. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” MC said quickly. “I’m just not going to Crossed Wands.”

“But you can’t miss out now,” Sebastian objected. “You might lose your place in the tournament, and you’re so close to winning.” He reached out to put a hand on MC’s shoulder, but she winced and pulled away.

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Something happened last night, didn’t it? Why won’t you tell me?”

MC sighed. “All right. One of those Ashwinders did a pretty number on my arm, and I can’t duel with it. I’ll be lucky to get any of my class work done properly, really.”

“Why not go to the Hospital Wing?”

“I’d have to explain what happened to Nurse Blainey. I can’t afford to be in trouble for sneaking out at night.”

“Just lie,” Sebastian suggested. “Tell her you fell down the stairs or something.”

MC shook her head, grimacing. “It’s really not something I can explain away like that, Sebastian.”

“Merlin, is it really that bad?” A shadow passed over his eyes, and MC knew he was thinking of Anne.

“I’m sure it will be fine,” said MC. “Just need to take it easy, that’s all.”

Sebastian lowered his voice. “Let me see.”

“In the middle of the Great Hall?” MC asked, glancing around again.

“No one’s paying attention. Come on, I can’t help if I don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

Surprise settled on her face at his words. She hadn’t expected him to make her troubles his own so easily. But then, hadn’t MC done the same thing for him? That’s just what friends did.

Nodding, MC pushed up the sleeve of her robe, then carefully tugged the sleeve of her sweater back from her arm, trying not to brush her skin as she went.

It was like a burn, angry red marks snaking up from her wrist and across her forearm, disappearing beneath her sleeve. The worst of it seemed to be in the center of her forearm, most likely where the spell hit,

“It goes all the way up your arm?” Sebastian asked, brow furrowed.

MC nodded, making a face; the air against the burn was not making her feel any better. She was grateful when he nodded at her to pull her sleeve back down.

“I think I know what this is. I read something in a book when I was researching cures for Anne.”

Before he could continue, the clock tower struck the hour and MC looked up, swearing under her breath. “That’s the time? I have class!”

Sebastian jumped from his seat and out of her way as MC grabbed her book, stuffed one of the little cakes in her mouth, and fled for the door. Sebastian shook his head at her retreating form, wondering if all the teachers knew just how much work she was putting in to catch up.

—

For a moment, MC considered refusing Sebastian’s request to meet in the Undercroft. Last night’s escapades had left her thoroughly exhausted and her arm aching. She had barely made it through her classes without raising the suspicions of her teachers, and there had been a close call in Charms class. All MC really wanted to do was go to bed and sleep for three days. But it was important, Sebastian had said, so MC decided that sleep could wait a little longer.

When he heard MC entering the room, Sebastian stopped his pacing, waiting for her to approach. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “You look worse than you did this morning.”

“Thanks,” MC said dryly. “You said you wanted to show me something?”

“Sort of. Now, let’s see that arm again, shall we?” Sebastian asked, holding up a glass vial marked Essence of Dittany.

“Where did you get this?” MC asked.

Sebastian shrugged. “Nicked it from the Hospital Wing while Blainey wasn’t looking.”

“Sebastian!” MC exclaimed, disapproving.

“It’s the same thing she would have used on you if you went up there,” Sebastian said. “If everyone knew just what you’ve been doing to keep the school safe in your off time, they’d agree that you deserve it.”

“That’s an… interesting way of looking at it,” MC said slowly.

“The best way, if you ask me. Now, let’s see if we can get you back in proper dueling form.”

MC wriggled out of her robe and slipped her sweater over her head, leaving only her crisp white shirt between herself and the cool air of the Undercroft. She busied herself with its sleeve, never noticing the way Sebastian’s eyes lingered on her throughout every movement. Wincing again at the discomfort of the air on the bare skin, she presented her arm to Sebastian.

Sebastian frowned at the wound, his eyes flashing. “Please tell me you gave as good as you got.”

“Better,” said MC, with a rare self-satisfied smile. “I wiped out the entire camp.”

Sebastian grinned. “That’s my girl.” He shook the bottle of dittany. “Ready?”

MC nodded, and Sebastian pulled a full dropper of dittany essence from the bottle. His touch gentle, he supported her arm with his other hand, and she relaxed against his palm. With precision, he released a few drops onto the dark red center of the burn.

MC hissed as the drops made contact with her skin, and Sebastian looked at her questioningly. MC shook her head and said, “It just stings a little. I’m all right.”

“There,” said Sebastian, sounding satisfied with himself. “Let that sit for a while. It won’t be instant, of course, but we should see some improvement pretty quickly.”

In truth, it was already feeling better than it had all day. Once the stinging passed, a cold, almost numbing feeling spread through her skin.

“You’re a hypocrite, you are,” said Sebastian. “Calling me reckless and then getting yourself into trouble like this.”

“You can’t always be around to have my back, Sebastian.”

“Then you better make sure you come back in one piece.”

While MC cradled her arm to her chest, Sebastian let a single drop of dittany fall onto his fingertip. He gently transferred it to the cut on her cheek. Letting his hand linger there longer than necessary, his eyes locked with MC’s. Sebastian moved his hand to hold her cheek against his palm. “Promise me you’ll be more careful if you insist on going out there alone. Rookwood’s gang is dangerous.”

“I’ll do my best,” said MC, giving him a soft smile.

They stayed like that for a moment, looking into each other’s eyes without moving. Sebastian leaned forward to press his lips to her forehead. Even the chill of the Undercroft could not lessen the heat that crept up MC’s neck and into her cheeks. When Sebastian pulled away to look at her, his crooked grin reveled in the effect he had on her.

Which only made MC blush even more, because of how good that grin looked on him.

Suddenly MC brought her hand up to stifle a yawn, and Sebastian let his own fall away. MC felt the cold absence of Sebastian as he took a step back.

“Looks like the Dittany is doing its job, and you need some rest. Take a break from poacher hunting for a few nights, yeah?”

“Right,” said MC, putting her clothes to rights. She paused, a realization hitting her. “Sebastian… did you miss Crossed Wands for this?”

Pink flushed Sebastian’s cheeks, his awkward laugh all the answer she really needed. “You Hufflepuffs aren’t the only ones who can be loyal, you know.”

—

Notes: This was only lightly edited so excuse any mistakes!

Masterlist

[omgkalyppso]

20 - Do you need me to carry you?

Okay this is funny because I sent this same prompt to someone else but for entirely different vibes than I'm about to write for you.

Additionally, I may use or entirely rewrite this moment for a longer fic at a later time. But I instantly knew which moment I wanted to write for this.

.

Cazador's dead bitch. cw for Cazador and Astarion history (very light). gore. blood tw. character death (Cazador and Lady Incognita). suicidal ideation. ends abruptly

.

The dissonant silence of the ritual site could hardly be called peaceful. The absence of the other spawn — now vampires, the quiet of the foiled archdevil, the departure of an unkindly and unlikely god, the dead of House Szarr, all left a unmistakable void — a hollow curse in the air that silently screamed for more, more, more. The air vibrated with magic unfinished, potential unrealized, satisfaction unsated.

There was nothing to be done for those Astarion had failed to save, for those he had failed to kill, for the years, and dignity, and power lost to him. Nothing to be done for the blessing of a god who had respected him only for what he had become in a fit of vengeance, who would have continued to feel no kinship with him had he remained a spawn.

The deep, pressing pain that ate away at his insides, aching with a vampire's hunger, was a reminder of his precarious balance on a scale of worthiness to every cosmic and societal scale that would measure him.

"Astarion?" prompted Lae'zel.

The sound frightened him into standing straight and dropping Cazador's staff, Woe, so that it crashed and clattered on the stone.

.

Her alien voice, her impossible presence here in Cazador's dungeon had him stammering, remembering his company and his purpose.

"Apologies, I just—"

Upon taking a step, Astarion, so accustomed to blood, and now awash with it, found that his boots splashed upon the floor, so sodden and saturated was the dais. His eyes widened in surprise.

"He will not come on his own," Lae'zel grumbled in concern.

"We have no need to rush him," Étoile said to soothe her, but all Astarion registered was that she was suddenly beside him, picking up Woe, and then striding away across the dais, collecting his ruined armor from where he'd — from where Cazador had—

"Astarion," Wyll beckoned. "I reckon civilization sounds pretty good about now? A bath and a bottle? Something to soothe the body and the mind?"

"Don't patronize me," he hissed, knowing the empty weight of the silent dead at his feet was the only reason Wyll would hear him, but he was more irritable as Lae'zel, approaching from his side, extended a hand, whether to drag him or comfort him — both were tantamount to the same invasion of his autonomy. He stumbled away from her before she came close, near shouting, "Don't touch me!"

Turning his face away to his feet, Astarion was faced with the broken body of Lady Incognita, the littlest Szarr and Cazador's greatest regret — aside from himself. He didn't turn his gaze back on the others as he stepped over her, towards them, whining as he went.

"Let's just ... go." He wrapped his arms around himself as he felt Wyll and Étoile's presence to either side of him as he passed between them. He took a few more steps before stopping to call over his shoulder, "This place reeks of death and I want to feel alive again."

Étoile nodded Lae'zel ahead, and she lightly jogged to get in front of Astarion, taking point on any remaining threats or servants they may yet come across, seeking the result of the ritual.

Astarion was grateful that at least Wyll and Étoile allowed him some space as he slowly made his way to the stairs, yet when his whole body wobbled when he lifted his foot to take the first one, it seemed Étoile couldn't be dissuaded from quickening their pace until they were immediately at his back, and Astarion sighed.

How strange to be separated from his siblings so soon, but not in death, to be among allies and betrayers. Cazador's voice rang in his head, disappointments he'd expressed from minutes past and from years ago, punishments, and promises, and praise for the most vile acts.

The companions around him had led him astray.

He was here of his own conviction.

He was a walking contradiction. He was weak.

Soon, after a rest, he would be a vampire, and possess all the powers that were denied to him, and be the strongest he had ever been.

The slick blood on Astarion's boots and the flat, featureless staircase in this subterranean hell did not agree with one another, and he slipped, and the part of him that remembered wanting to bargain with Cazador when he was in a charitable mood whispered in the darkest corner of his mind that he was right to fall, that he should have jumped, that such an end would be as one final command from his master. His siblings would know, somehow. They'd undoubtedly think it fitting, for how he'd flirted with ending their lives.

It was barely a fraction of a second, but still it was disorienting to be righted. Étoile had their closer arm around him, barely touching his shoulder, but their far hand had caught and squeezed tight on Astarion's wrist, forcing him to standing.

"Are you alright?" Étoile asked, firm, grip unyielding.

"Let. Go," Astarion said with more venom than he intended. He felt outside of himself as Étoile sighed and released his wrist. He attempted to wrangle himself. "I'm capable of a few more stairs, darling. I—" He huffed, the set of his eyebrows failing, a guilty sensation of a different nature constricting his throat. "Thank you."

Wyll whistled to stop Lae'zel from getting too far ahead, causing Astarion to squint in heavy irritation. Perhaps it wasn't that the air around the ritual site was stifling, maybe that was just his existence, now and forever.

"Astarion," Étoile coaxed, assertive and sincere, shocking his eyes back open. They looked pained, sad, but after ... other conversations, Astarion didn't imagine it could be pity putting that slant in their mouth, that hesitation in their body language. "I could carry you to the top of the stairs, if you wanted."

"No," Astarion blurted instantly, moving half a foot back before settling back in place, eyes tracking the movement of Étoile's hand when they reached out to his elbow once more, as if he were falling away again. They had carried him before, once or twice, but not like this, where the world felt surreal and his boots squelched with his master's blood.

"No," he said again. "I-I-I," his eyes sought the distant walls, the faraway cages, the yawning chasm, "I just need a moment."

"Here?" asked Étoile, not judgmental, but concerned.

Stilling his movements, catching their eye, Astarion nodded his assent.

This stair was wide enough to turn about on, and slowly Astarion turned again to look at the ritual far below. It was a nightmare. Not his, but someone's. It was everything he could have hoped for.

Steadily, Astarion lowered himself to the stair, sitting on this precarious piece of rock in a setting he was never meant to survive. If not for the mindflayer worm, if not for those who chose to be here ... he wouldn't have.

"Not an hour ago Cazador was standing there," Astarion observed. "He was ..." he scoffed. "Well, he was killing his whole family. But he was also pleading for a way out. He was looking to me for ... supplication. For clan. For understanding. And now? He's gone."

Wyll opened his mouth to respond, and Astarion heard the gasp of his breath that preceded a word, but Étoile, to his side, raised a finger to their lips, silencing him. The Blade of Frontiers nodded quickly, and Astarion wondered what he would say — what he could say in regards to the passing of the Gate's most terrible of vampires. It should have mattered to him, but Astarion could only feel the terror of the past few hours, the past ... forever, in his blood.

"I can't overstate what a permanent presence he was in — not 'my life,' the way you would mean it, as an occupant or an obsession. But in my very existence, at the core of myself," Astarion gestured with his hands, tapped upon his chest, and wondered about bearing himself so thoroughly. But with so much blood, tacky and fresh, decorating his skin, he felt raw and as if they'd seen the worst of him already. "How and why I lived? Every emotion tied up in every decision that flittered across my mind was for Cazador. How to escape, how to feed, how to feel, what to dream." 'To avoid his ire, to escape his attention, to appease his hunger,' Astarion told himself. "After all these years — these centuries — it's really over."

He could make out Cazador's gore among the rest in the massacre they were leaving behind, shredded as he was. His was the corpse in the most wretched state.

This would likely be the last time he saw any of Cazador, unless one counted having to wash the blood from himself once they were out of here.

Astarion squirmed. He recalled being unable to wriggle in discomfort as Cazador's hands traced his face, as his lips found the crook of his jaw, so close to where his punctured scars immortalized their connection.

'Fourth, thou shalt know that thou art mine.'

Astarion felt a horrible laugh bubble out of him, tears risking him again, but only just. Freedom. He never thought it would taste like this, half aching, half terrified, maybe more ... He reached into himself for the joy, to those unanswered prayers from a time when gods mattered, to the smallest, most hopeless parts of his undead heart, to make sure they knew, he was safe.

"What I've lost," Astarion observed, not looking to Étoile, but nodding towards them, "what I've gained — it's all so much."

[faytelumos]

*cracks knuckles*

---

Hood was probably a little too smug, given the situation. Not only was he detained aboard the Watchtower, he was detained under Superman's watch, and he had been slapped with anti-power restraints up to his elbows. Even so, he had two things he was trying badly not to laugh about:

1. The Justice League had next to no information on him, and assumed on what they did have that he was a meta.

2. He was in the perfect position to ruin Batman's day.

He tugged again on the metal clamped over his arms, the inch-thick steel cable between his hands barely moving as he tested the device. "That's enough," Superman warned when he started wiggling his fingers. Hood scoffed through the voice modifier.

"Look," he said, and he looked Superman straight in the eye. He could surely tell under the helmet. "I know this isn't a police office, but at least give me my one phone call."

Green Arrow threw Superman a sideways glance. Superman just kept meeting Red Hood's eye.

"What?" Hood asked, grinning as audibly as possible. "The Justice League is too infallible to give me my civil rights?"

Green Arrow crossed his arms, stubbornly keeping his eyes on Hood while Superman frowned.

"I'll even let you monitor it, sir."

"You've got your phone call," Arrow said before Superman could unfurrow his brow.

They weren't letting Hood's hands go, so he gave Arrow the number to punch into a League phone. Superman reached out to remove the helmet, and Hood flinched away.

"The helmet stays on," he snapped. Superman raised an eyebrow, then elected to hold the phone up to Hood's ear.

The phone rang three times before it clicked, and Hood spoke before Batman had the chance.

"Hey, Dad," he said, mischievous. He could practically hear Batman pursing his lips on the other end, Superman and Green Arrow exchanging worried and confused glances. "I got into a little trouble with the Justice League, can you come bail me out?"

It was hard with the voice modifier, but Hood thought he got out the perfect combination of sweet and bitter. Batman was a sucker if you pulled the Dad Card, but there was no way in hell Hood was going full tilt in that direction with Leaguers in front of him.

There was a long, drawn out inhale.

"I'll be right there," Batman said darkly.

"Perfect," Hood replied, all teeth, "I'll see you soon." Hood moved away from the phone, and Superman looked to the screen. But Batman had already hung up. "He's coming to bail me out," Hood said, looking up at the two of them. "Let's go to the teleport pad to meet him."

"First of all, sport," Green Arrow said, stepping forward, "we're not cops, and you don't have a posted bail." Hood grinned at him from under the helmet, content to let him say his piece. "Secondly, how is your daddy even getting up here? We're in space, in case you forgot." Hood just chuckled lowly, not quite loud enough for the voice modifier to alter.

"You'll see."

"This is ridiculous," Superman said under his breath. Green Arrow just watched Hood, calculating. Superman moved first, clapping a hand solidly on Hood's shoulder to direct him to the teleport pad. His hand was like a vice, just barely on the cusp of uncomfortable.

They all waited at the pad for almost two minutes, Green Arrow standing behind them, Superman keeping a hold of Red Hood. When the projection tubes buzzed and a light seemed to come on, Hood grinned and looked over his uncaptured shoulder at Green Arrow. He didn't want to miss the face journey.

Green Arrow watched the teleport pad, looking mildly impressed. Then completely and utterly perplexed, thrown, and befuddled. Then horrified. He looked finally to Red Hood, who was grinning again, chuckling lowly.

"What did I tell ya," he said, looking to Batm—

To—

Wait—

What—

Red Hood stared in abject horror as Bruce stepped off the teleport pad, his shirt mis-buttoned, his hair a disaster, lipstick smeared on his jaw, a pair of designer sunglasses perched atop his head.

"M-Mister Wayne," Superman said. Hood didn't even have the wherewithal to decipher that tone of voice. "How did you get here?"

Bruce paused, tilting his head and looking Superman over. Then he gave a lopsided, charming smile.

"Well, I am the Justice League's primary benefactor," he said, and damn if that wasn't the thickest Brucie voice Jason had heard in this life. "Of course I'm gonna have keys to the building." He looked over to Green Arrow now and gave a flirtatious wink. Then he looked directly at Red Hood, and Hood suddenly felt like stomping a hole in the floor just to escape into and die. Again. "Jaylad, sweetie," Bruce said, closing the distance, and Jason's — Red Hood's — hands were too clumsy to block him when he sucked Jason into a thick, squeezing hug. "I missed you at brunch today, sweetheart," Bruce said as he held Jason.

"What the fuck is going on," Jason whispered under his breath, too quiet for the helmet to bother altering.

"Mister Wayne," Green Arrow said, and Bruce pulled away from Red Hood, but didn't let go, "you are… aware that this guy is the Red Hood, aren't you?" Bruce looked at Arrow as Hood stared at Bruce. "As in the criminal that cut off seven people's heads, put them in a duffle bag, and took over several crime rings in your city?"

Hood's brain finally caught up, finally finished compartmentalizing, and it was like the snap of a rubber band. He stood up straight again under the weight of Superman's hand and turned to glare at Arrow over his shoulder.

"Actually, it was eight heads—"

"Oh, honey, you know I hate that voice changer thingy," Bruce said, and suddenly his hands were on the helmet, and he clicked one of the buttons under Hood's left ear.

"Hey—!" Hood barked, but the HUD in his helmet already said the modifier was disabled, and he sounded like a bratty 20-year-old to the open room, rather than a menace of the underworld. He reached up fast to turn it back on, but Bruce caught his hands, keeping Hood from bashing himself in the jaw with the big, metal power shackles.

"I'm very aware of my baby boy's past," Bruce said, and he reached up to pet the helmet lovingly. Hood jerked his head away, but damn it, it wasn't enough to dislodge Bruce's touch, even as he looked at Arrow again. "We've been working on handling those big feelings."

"Stop touching me, you ass," Hood growled so far under his breath that only Superman could possibly hear him.

"Um, Mister Wayne," Superman uttered, his tone gentle, "you don't… you understand that your son…."

"Died?" Bruce supplied after a few seconds of painfully awkward silence. Jason gritted his teeth. "Yes, but he was brought back to us, unfortunately by an organization that wanted to use him against Batman," Bruce made a pinching gesture on Hood's helmet's cheek, and if the helmet weren't between them, Jason could just bite his fingers— "but I won't look a gift horse in the mouth." Bruce smiled, big and bright. "And besides, Crime Alley hasn't been as safe in almost thirty years as it is today, thanks to my good boy."

"Spare me," Jason mouthed under the helmet.

"I'm so proud," Bruce said, beaming, and he got up on his toes to plant a damned kiss on Hood's helmet. With Superman holding his other shoulder, he wasn't able to get away from it, and he grunted indignantly at the wet smack against metal. "Alright, Jaylad, let's get you home," he finally said.

"Fucking finally—"

"Um, M-Mister Wayne?" Arrow said, stepping closer. "We apprehended Red Hood as part of a drug ring bust. We can't just let him go."

"Well, my Jaylad wouldn't do anything downright wrong," Bruce said.

"Like cutting off people's heads?" Superman muttered under his breath. Hood gritted his teeth to keep from scoffing.

"That was for a good reason," Bruce said coolly, shutting Superman up and probably even making him blush. Hood pursed his lips tightly, fighting back a chuckle. "Whatever reason Jason was there, it was a good one." He turned and looked right at Hood, meeting his gaze through the helmet. "Right, Jaylad?"

A second passed, then three. Did they really expect him to answer that question?

"Uh, I-I was undercover," Jason said, clumsily drawing on Alfred's old voice acting training to at least sound respectable.

"There, you see?" Bruce said, and he patted Jason's — Hood's — shoulder. "Since you broke up whatever little operation there was, and my baby was there to do the same…?" He looked at Hood, and Hood nodded after a second. "Then no harm done. You can take these off, and we should both get home in time for dinner." Bruce smiled and winked directly at Hood. "Alfred's making lasagna."

Oh, shit, Jason loved Alfred's lasagna.

Hood glared back at Superman and lifted the power cuffs. Superman opened his mouth to protest, but then Bruce snapped his fingers and pointed at Arrow.

"I recognize you," he said.

"What?" Green Arrow said. "No?"

"Yes, I'm sure I've seen you around," Bruce said, leaning in.

"You've probably seen me on TV with the others," Arrow said.

"No, no, it was somewhere else," Bruce said, rubbing his lipstick-stained chin. "Have you ever been to one of my charity functions?"

"Superman, let's just cut the boy loose," Arrow said quickly. "Obviously, this was all a big misunderstanding."

"But, wait—"

"Oh, thank you so much, boys," Bruce said, smiling charmingly. "It's thanks to you all that I can sleep at night."

After some more awkward staring and pointed looks, Superman frowned petulantly and produced a key. Red Hood tried to put an entire arm's length between himself and Bruce as they left, but Bruce had hooked an arm around his shoulders before Hood could stop him.

"Bye, boys," Bruce sang, waving and smiling at Superman and Green Arrow. The teleport pads lit up, and then in a flash, they were in the cave.

"What the fuck happened to no names in the field, asshole?" Jason immediately spat, stepping back and yanking the helmet off.

"Jason Todd is still legally dead," Bruce said in his normal, at least somewhat respectable voice. He started fixing his shirt as he stepped towards the stairs. "Maybe if you would legally revive yourself—"

Jason groaned loudly enough to bother the bats and drown out whatever Bruce was about to say. "I don't wanna hear this again! You completely humiliated me in there!" he hollered.

Bruce turned to look over his shoulder, a shit-eating Bat-smirk on his face.

"You thought you had me there, didn't you?" was all he said. Jason pursed his lips, trying to look pissed so he didn't grin despite himself. He was not condoning Bruce fucking around with him. That was a one way street, damn it, and Jason was driving. "Come on," Bruce said, pulling a makeup wipe packet out of his pocket and ripping it open. "I'm sure Alfred will be happy to have you for dinner."

"Alfred's cooking doesn't make us even," Jason griped.

"You're right," Bruce said, turning and making his way up the stairs, still smirking. "I'm winning."

I know there are a lot of fanfics about Jason being caught by the Justice League and usually getting bailed out by the batfam, but imagine if it was Brucie Wayne bailing him out:

In the JL interrogation room:

Superman: Alright, Red Hood, who is your supplier helping you move drugs in Star City?

Red Hood, who was undercover investigating a drug ring and got caught in a JL bust and sesnses an opportunity to mess with Batman: Look, I know you guys aren't cops, but can I get at least get one phone call?

Justice league looking skeptical?

Red Hood: You can even monitor it.

Green Arrow: Fine one phone call, but it will be monitored.

Hands Hood a phone

Red Hood: Hey Dad, I got stopped by the Justice League. Could you come bail me out? Really, okay, see you soon. Okay, my Dad said that he would bail me, so could we go over to the teleporters?

Green Arrow: Okay, firstly, we aren't cops, you can't just post bail and get out. Secondly, how would this "Dad" get up here?

Red Hood: You'll see.

Minutes later, Brucie Wayne walks in with a trail of Heroes, trying to explain why he cannot be at the Watchtower.

Superman: Mr. Wayne what are you doing here and how did you get here?

Bruce laying the Brucie persona on thick: Well as one of the Justice League's biggest doners and tech suppliers I have access to the teleporters, as for why I'm here it's to bail out my son. Hi Jaylad!

Red Hood fully expecting Batman: What?

Green Arrow remembering his friend's grief over loosing Jason: Ummmm, Mr. Wayne this is the Red Hood. You know "Bag full of severed heads" Red Hood.

Brucie: Yes, I know he's had some issues with his big feelings, but he's still my sweet little boy.

Superman: And you think that he's your late son Jason Todd?

Brucie: Yes, Batman even confirmed it was him. It turns out that after he died, he was brought back by an organization that planned on using him as a weapon against Batman. But he left them and has been working to improve Crime Alley, I'm so proud of him.

Green Arrow: We caught him in Star City with Drug runners.

Brucie: I'm sure he has a good explanation, don’t you Jaylad?

Red Hood still reeling from Bruce showing up as Brucie and not Batman: I was undercover?

Brucie: See perfectly reasonable, now can I please have my baby boy back? Alfred will be so upset if he's not home for dinner.

Surprisingly, this works , the Justice League is to stunned by this revelation and later confirm this with Batman that yes, the notorious Red Hood is the son of Billionaire, philanthropist airhead Brucie Wayne. Jason, meanwhile, has suffered a huge blow to his cred in the Hero community because of the association with Brucie instead of the Batfam. The bat siblings do not let this go anytime soon.

[varilien]

am i blanchin?

girl we blanchin!!

HI HIII happy birthday to everyone's favorite mystery twins!! how did they grow up so fast!!!!

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