#certainly not him! hell he doesnt even know how long hes been DEAD let alone what he was when he was ALIVE lmao

[theartisticintrovert]

Commission Me! (Regular | Furry)

so overlord finished, which means new campaign time! it's finally, FINALLY time for my undead cowboy to shine!!! everyone, i'd like to introduce you to silas kelly, a character that started as a joke that i got unreasonably attached to. he's inspired by the song "hell's coming with me" by poor man's poison, and when i introduced the concept to my friends one of them (the dm for this campaign) liked the concept so much that he spawned an entire homebrew world, story, and campaign around him.

i've never been more flattered, honestly. it had to be reworked a teeny bit to be a multiplayer rather than solo campaign, but it worked out! now my amnesiac bastard has friend! just one right now, hopefully that changes.

not pictured: his trusty revolver, aka his main weapon of choice, holstered under his coat. because of course a western-themed campaign has guns who do you take us for. aiden was even nice enough to let me use divine smite (usually a melee-only feat) with it, so long as i agreed to give up one of my oath feats at level 3. not a hard choice at all, considering there's no reason to use abjure enemy when i have a gun.

[landinoandco]

Hey could you do one with max verstappen, where the reader a fight about him not helping around the house (witch he doesnt do because he is just tired from working hard but the reader dont know) so they yell at max and he suddenly walks away but then they find him crying in bed, because hes overworked and feels like hes never gonna be good enough at being a driver and the readers boyfriend. And feels like he can only dissapoint the reader, his dad and cristian. But the reader comforts him. Tnx

Because I'm not good enough...

Max Verstappen x Reader

Warnings: angsty

Word count: 2 k

Requests are open :)

You were sat at the dining room table, staring out at the empty seat in front of you. Your arms crossed across your chest and your lip in between your teeth. You had been sat there for an hour - in the grand scheme of things an hour didn’t seem like such a long time but it was his final warning and an hour was just long enough to allow for your anger to boil over.

Dinner was in the fridge - the same dinner you had cooked an hour ago, your phone lay screen up on the table - the same phone you used to call Max two hours and a half hours ago, he told you he was on his way home. Home whilst you were in the UK was 25 minutes away from the Redbull HQ. This was becoming a regular occurrence, some nights he would come home so late that you had already taken yourself to bed. The atmosphere in the house seemed to freeze over whenever he was around even though you were yet to come out of summer, there was something hanging over the pair of you - unspoken feelings and as of now a red hot anger that threatened to escape from your usually composed nature.

Ever since the championship had taken a turn in the favour of Redbull, Max had started to become much more distant. It started off with him not inviting you along to the races, leaving on the Wednesday before race weekend and sometimes not seeing him until the following Tuesday and that was on a stand alone race weekend. On the triple headers, it could be nearing two weeks until you two were spared 5 minutes alone and even then it was a brief conversation before he rushed back to the factory or to train.

You thought you knew what you signed up for and since yours and Max’s relationship and that was three years ago so you thought you had seen it all - been through it all with him, witnessed every high and every low. This was a new territory and you knew that if it wasn’t tackled soon -

The click of the door lock echoed in the hallway, you straightened in your seat - eyes locked ahead of you and your knee bouncing.

Max sighed loudly and wiped his hand over his face, it had been a long day - he had been at the factory up until Christian had invited him out to lunch, it was nice to catch up with his boss and Max felt like he owed the man so much; guiding him through the years that had led up to the moment they found themselves in. Max felt like over the past years he had matured as a person, sometimes still short tempered but being an F1 driver it wasn’t necessarily a bad trait. After his lunch with Christian, his dad had called him - the less said about the conversation the better. By the time you had called, the last thing he wanted to do was come home and risk upsetting you. He had taken himself on a run - to clear his head and focus on what he was going to say to you because he felt like something definitely needed to be said.

He also owed a lot to you, you had put up with so much over the years and standing by his side even when he had made a mistake - although you were very quick to tell him when he was in the wrong. You seemed to be on his level, a blunt and forward look at life - there was no time for dawdling about when you had things to be done. Life was short and there was no time to waste.

Recently however, he was putting so much pressure and stress on himself about work that the hours slipped away from him and so did the time spent with you. He felt the atmosphere change around the pair of you - as though he was always walking on thin ice, the cracks beginning to show. The guilt he felt was nothing like he had ever felt before, all he wanted to do was talk to you but he was scared of pushing you away - which is ironic because not talking and letting the pent up anger build up was having the same effect. He was never that good when it came to talking about how he felt - as much as he wanted to he felt as though he would be a burden and that he would put too much pressure on you. He could never tell you what he really felt like inside. It was embarrassing, he knew that a professional athlete should never feel what he felt. It weakened him and having weaknesses in a sport like Formula 1 was not an option.

Max shrugged his coat off and walked through to the main room of the apartment - the room where you were sat waiting to pounce as though he was your unsuspecting prey.

He offered a tired smile, in response he got a sneer. Swallowing hard, you felt the anger take over, like some monster escaping from a cage.

“I have been sitting here for an hour, Max -” You shot to your feet, pointing at the table, your voice cracked slightly. “For months, you’ve been leaving me - it’s me who’s been cooking for us both, cleaning, washing - everything, Max. By myself.” You were shouting now, your heart threatening to break free from your chest. Max just stood there, a blank expression on his face - his gaze fixed to the ground. “I don’t understand what went wrong, Max. We were happy, hell, we spoke to each other. Now, I’m alone. In fact, I may as well be alone if this doesn’t change.” The words had fallen out of your mouth before you had any time to consider them - or the consequences. Your eyes went round with shock and you fell back to your seat. A loud silence filled the room.

Max, too, had not expected the words that had initiated the silence. He opened his mouth, eyes still on the ground, then closed it again before raising his head and looking you dead in the eye.

“You don’t mean that.” He managed to mutter, barely being able to raise his voice any louder. He felt a tired emptiness, this was the last thing he had wanted to happen.

“That’s all you have to say to me.” You rounded on him again, angry tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

“No - I -” He stuttered, then closed his eyes, inhaling slowly, “I just don’t think we should talk things through whilst you’re angry -” He saw you about to interject, when he raised his hands. “You have every right to be. That’s not what I’m saying. I think we should wait to talk about it so we don’t say things we are going to regret later.” Max could feel his throat constricting, he was battling to keep his emotions at bay.

You sniffed and nodded slowly, placing your head in your hands - hot tears escaping and shoulders tensed.

Max swallowed thickly, his eyes swimming with tears. He made a move and after no interruption left the room. He had only made it to the stairs before he collapsed, the fatigue getting the better of him. He was such an idiot, a fact he was certainly aware of now, how could he have let things get this bad. Did that make him a selfish person?

He couldn’t hold it in any longer, a harsh sob escaping from his mouth - fingers shaking and his head a loud mess.

As soon as Max had left the room, you had gotten up to get some water - when you paused, a sound catching your attention - a deep sounding sob. You waited, a line appeared between your brows. Slowly and carefully, you inched towards the door - waiting with baited breath for the sound again.

It was coming from the stairs and there was only one person it could be. Regret instantly pooled in the pit of your stomach, you hadn’t meant for him to cry. You were just so angry and he needed to know that.

“Max.” You called out softly, unsurprisingly there was no response. You went in the direction of the stairs and hunched over in front of you was your boyfriend - attempting to stifle his sobs. You rushed forwards, placing your arms around his shoulders and pulled his body into yours. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around your waist. You kissed the top of his head, stroking his hair as he continued to cry - you allowed him to empty his emotions out; some tears of your own betraying you entirely.

“I’m sorry, I really am.” Came a muffled voice. Pausing, you released your hold of him and placed your hands either side of his face - offering him a watery smile. Then, using your sleeves you wiped his tears away - he watched your every move, waiting for you to say something. When you didn’t, he braced himself - lips trembling; he knew it was now or never. He had to tell you how he really felt.

“I’m not good enough.” He stated simply, his eyes glossy. Your forehead furrowed. “I’m never going to be good enough to take the championship, I’m going to let everyone down. Everyone that has ever believed in me - it doesn’t matter what I do, how much work I put in - I’m never good enough. And you -” He paused, meeting your gaze, a lump forming in the back of your throat. “I keep letting you down, time and time again. I was the one who caused this, I’m never going to be good enough for you.”

“If you believe that -” You began, kissing the newly formed tears away, “Then I will eat your race shoe.” You moved to sit next to him on the stairs, pulling him into your side. “Why didn’t you tell me that’s how you felt.”

You felt Max shrug, the side of his head resting on yours. “I didn’t want to burden you with all of my problems, you already put up with so much.”

“I will always have time for you, Max.” Grasping his hand in yours, “You are enough, you are more than enough. You are Max Verstappen, the fastest, strongest guy I know.” You chuckled lightly, “I know it may sometimes feel like that and that’s ok. You are putting yourself through so much - maybe, it’s time to give some consideration for your personal life. It’s unhealthy to work all of the time - then we run into issues like these.” You spoke softly, almost whispering but you could tell he was hanging onto every word you spoke. “I love you, Max. I don’t know what I would do without you.” You admitted, turning your head to look at him. He chewed on his bottom lip, processing your words.

“I love you too, more than anything.” He murmured, placing his forehead on yours. You lifted your head slightly to leave a soft kiss on his nose, earning the corners of his lips to quirk up.

Closing your eyes, you relished being in his arms again, to have him close to you. You had missed it. You had missed him. Both of you knew you had a lot to work through, that it wouldn’t simply disappear but both of you were going to do it together. Hand in hand. And that was more than enough.

[literaila]

always, kitchen floor

loki x gn! reader 

summary/request: reader is tony’s sibing, they’ve had a fight with him. loki just happens to be there... and again, a while later. 

content warning: alcohol, fighting, sibling things, murder. 

*

so you weren’t expecting the crash.

so you weren’t exactly the picture of grace on the floor.

so you weren’t supposed to be in here.

it’s not like he knew that. but what he did know was that as soon as he bashed into the room, you were falling towards the floor.

the small chuckle you could hear from behind the cabinet did not soothe any anger you were feeling. it was just digging itself a deeper hole in your chest, just making itself a home while whoever had scared you laughed along. it might’ve made you angrier.

“it’s alright,” an unrecognizable voice said, low and sour. someone was moving around. you didn’t even attempt to get up off the floor. you didn't care. 

“i’ve been told i have that effect,”

an audible sigh from you made the movement stop.

you closed your eyes, rapped your head against the floor softly. this was only one of the many things you couldn't deal with right now. a human interaction, a conversation. an effort. maybe you’d drunk a bit too much, maybe this was a dream.

you really didn’t want to get up. you were hoping for a hallucination. anything non-real.

“do i know you?” you croak out instead of crying. at least, if you’re going to die, you’ll get to know who killed you. at least, if you have to do this now, you can call the bastard by their name. 

“probably,” the voice sings out. perfect.

probably.

you stop your head, squeeze your eyes until they sting. you’re not sure why you’re not supposed to be in here again, but maybe it has something to do with this.

meeting perfect strangers you probably know.

“do you have a name?” you croak— again —your patience gone from every trace of your body. your effort extinguished from the fire that is building in your chest. the fire that's been there a while. 

“the god of mischief.”

you sit up. only a little. just enough to lean your head towards the voice.

it’s not like you were expecting that response.

“excuse me?” you say in your half-deflated, half surprised voice. your neck is straining from the glance you’re trying to get at the voice, but you keep attempting to lift your head

the footsteps start again, and it’s only a moment before the person comes into view.

before you see them, you hear the bells ringing in your head. this isn’t your house, this isn’t their house. you don’t know this person, and you’re acting completely sane.

it’s honestly not that bad of a situation.

it only takes one more pinch of your ligaments for your eyes to meet their face.

for your brain to touch them with all the memories you have.

probably.

yeah, well, probably was right.

maybe you’re starstruck for a moment, maybe your eyes widen, and maybe you’re staring at this giant person in front of you for way too long.

it doesn’t matter, because in what seems like a second to you, you lay back down. close your eyes.

“i’ve seen you on the news,” you say, a nonchalant mention, a passing sentence.

you were wrong, then. an alien interaction. 

the god of mischief— actually, if the news anchor from earlier had anything to say about it —is standing right next to you. right next to your practically dead body, and you don’t move an inch.

you’re sure you can feel his eyes on you, but you don’t check. who cares, anyway? hes going to kill you soon. 

“have you?” he asks, an annoying disruption to your wallowing.

you grunt, don’t say anything else.

it’d be nice not to die in your own home. at least then no one will have to clean up any blood. they can sell the apartment again. it’d be nice to watch your brother's face as a ghost when he realizes. it’d be nice to get your revenge in the form of a bloodstain on the hardwood. it's a terrible thought that almost fills you with glee.

loki, who moves past you, opening cabinets and carrying around a ridiculous scepter (?) does not turn to look at you when he asks

“you’re not supposed to be here, are you?”

your snort is nothing more than a yes. is it really that obvious? i mean, yes, you look pretty bad, but that shouldn’t indicate to him that you’re in the wrong place.

he shouldn’t know that already.

“what makes you say that?”

loki puts down the bottle he’d been messing with, some expensive thing your brother would kill him for touching. not that you’re going to tell him that, you don't really mind. he turns and bangs his scepter against the ground, not completely on accident. “this countertop is engraved ‘tony stark’”

you roll your eyes, but he doesn’t notice.

“and, from what i’ve seen on the news” he teases the unfamiliar word around his lips “you aren’t him”

“ha,” you say, voice void of any emotion. it must really be that obvious, even to a god who has only been on earth for a few days and has never met you before. even to you, who’s been trying to catch up to tony for so long. “you’ve got me,” 

you grab the bottle you have next to you, the bottle you’ve been cradling all night in your hands like its some childhood blanket you dont want to let go of, and take a sip. its hard on the floor, and that fact is maybe the only thing that could actually convince you to sit up at this moment. 

so you do, and you look loki straight in the eyes while taking another sip. 

theres still half a bottle left, you dont really need to slow down. 

loki looks amused, looks so much less threatening than you would’ve thought after watching him get a group of well over a hundred people to kneel before him. so much less threatening without his words to back him up. or maybe, thats what makes him a villain. 

he looks kind of cute. 

“can i help you?” you say then, looking him in the eyes, bottle in hand. its your best impression of a salesperson, but he doesn't know that. hes just a god, after all, hes just a murder, definitely. 

“actually yes,” he moves towards you, scepter banging, his voice a slow river. “i was looking for someone-” 

“if its tony, you’re fresh out of luck, mr. mischief,” you sigh and stand up, pretending not to notice the substantial difference in heights between the two of you. “it would seem i’ve run him off,” you pause, take a sip, hold your finger up in a gesture for him to wait. “must’ve been my ceaseless charm.” 

loki doesnt say anything, just watches you with irritating eyes and waits for you to take another drink. you do, but not because of him. you’re thirsty, obviously. 

you hate that hes already predicting your movements, you hate that he looks so calm. you hate that if you werent still in your right mind you would probably tackle him without a moments notice. 

still, you watch him anyway. this isnt scary. nothing is scary right now, not even the prospect of death and the murderer in the room. not when you’ve just been left alone in this stupid building while tony runs off to do something else. 

not when your voice still hurts from screaming at him. 

“when will he be back?” loki asks, interrupting your thoughts and looking you up and down. any other day, you might’ve taken it as a compliment, might’ve smiled at him.

“never, if i had anything to say about it.” 

loki doesnt hesitate. “you seem awfully angry for such an angelic-looking person,” 

you snort, turn around to go searching through the cupboards again. “and you seem awfully murdery for a god,” 

“you’d be surprised,” he moves forward, leans his scepter against a chair, and continues to watch you. something about this, something about him is easing that feeling in your chest. the annoyance is almost gone, you know, if it werent for the fact that hes still certainly going to kill you. 

you know that he’d brainwashed other people, maybe thats what was happening now. 

you grunt instead of answer and grab a glass. its strange, this need you feel to keep him from murdering you. loki watches with curious eyes as you poor some of your bottle in the glass, then offer it to him. 

in fact, his eyes almost bludge out of his head as soon as you lift it towards him. 

“you’re giving this to me?” 

you smirk instead of scoffing, as a peace offering. “is it really that obvious?” 

he doesnt acknowledge the snide but takes the glass with careful hands. maybe he thinks humans have murderous cups. maybe hes just very untrusting. it doesnt matter, it makes you smile anyway. 

you grab the bottle, now more than half gone, and take a sip as loki thinks deeply about this drink you’ve given him. at least he isnt asking you why you’re angry anymore. 

“is it good?” he asks while staring at the contents of the glass. 

“you could just try it, you know.” 

he quirks a brow. sets the glass down on the counter. takes a step back. “how do i know you havent poisoned it?” 

you set your bottle down, lean your hands on the counter, and lean closer to him in a challenge. “you, quite literally, just watched me pour it.” 

loki considers this, tilts his head, and then steps forward and takes the glass. you laugh when he sniffs at it, but watch with hopeful eyes as he finally takes a sip. 

then promptly gags. 

“humans are disgusting creatures,” he says while gagging, moving far away from the glass. 

“and thats why you’ve come to conquer us, right?” you’re still smirking, still sipping, and still wondering what the hell this god is doing here. 

“think of it as a favor,” hes wincing, opening his mouth in what looks like an effort to get the taste out of his mouth. but still, he doesnt threaten you, doesnt curse you out, doesnt accuse you of poisoning him again. but then, he looks up. “in return, you might tell me where stark is?” 

there. thats it. no threatening, no murdering, no accusation. but still, he just wants something. your brother, of course. 

whats different from usual? 

“i dont know,” you answer, smile gone, moving away. you make sure to take the bottle with you, wherever you turn to go. wherever you want to run away to. 

you dont know, you’re not sure. this place is so big, and all of it is a prison you’ll never actually leave. the curse of blood relations. 

loki though, stops you before you can even attempt to leave, before you can make your escape before you start sobbing to this god who isnt even here for you. 

really, you should be thankful, really, you shouldnt care this much. really, you should’ve left ten minutes ago. you’re not even supposed to be here. 

the thought fills you with dread. effort, effort and pain. 

“you dont know?” he asks, doubtful. as if he knows you, as if he can already tell you’re lying. you scoff, then scoff again. damn the god of mischief, and damn your brother. arrogance does not look good on anyone. 

you try to push past him, shaking your head with hurt eyes that arent really for him. you try to move forward, but hes so much bigger than you, and hes got the upper hand. he knows you wont try to murder him, no matter what he wants to do to everyone on earth. 

“you are related to him, are you not?” another question, another shot of fuel to the fire that you thought had burned out. to the flame inside of you that doesnt seem to leave. 

“i dont like that you know that,” you say it softly, much softer than you mean to, and without noticing take a step back. put up the walls, so to say. get away from this alien that knows more about you than you do him. guard yourself before you actually get hurt. 

dont give him yet another reason to yell at you. 

“its not hard to guess. you have...erm” he pauses, looking small, looking more nervous, looking anything but godly. “the same mannerisms. and you talk a bit like each other.” 

you frown. dammit. 

“also, the way you talk of him reminds me of my brother.” 

you look up then, look up and see this god, this alien, this murderer that you dont even know. is he drunk now? you wouldnt have thought him to be such a light-weight. 

“okay...” maybe you’re weirded out, or maybe you’re tired, but you try to move away from him anyway. this is effort, and you dont need it. 

“you really dont know?” loki says, before moving out of your way. he sighs, looks defeated now. you’re not lying, but something in you kind of wants you to be. just so he’ll leave you alone, of course. just for some peace. 

just so he stops frowning at the floor. god, you dont even know him. 

and you, you just dont understand. hes the villain, hes evil, so why is he looking so innocent? why arent you scared of him? why havent you run in terror yet?

maybe you’re about to ask something, but loki moves first. he steps back, or forward, and grabs the glass you gave him, again. takes another sip. he doesnt gag this time, doesnt change his expression at all. 

“i thought you hated it?” you ask, shocked by this small thing, hurt still, by his words. maybe by his defeated look. 

loki sighs, smirks, does something with his face you cant comprehend. “its better with disappointment.” 

now its your turn to sigh. you cant leave this alien alone in tony’s kitchen. that’d be rude, plus, curiosity is human. 

its not his fault, really, that he needs to murder your brother. 

you go back, back to the counter, back to the floor, back to loki with his sad eyes and your bottle. you just go back, sitting down on the floor, where you were when he came in, and waiting for him to join you. 

it doesn’t take long, you can feel his cool from the five feet of distance between the two of you. 

its a moment before you ask. “do you really need my brother? i can probably call him.” an olive branch, so to say. 

loki laughs, chortles, something. maybe you’re feeling the effects of the alcohol now. he doesnt speak for a moment, just looks around, observing the room once again. you look with him, wait for his answer, hope its “no”. 

“no, not really.” he pauses, sighs. “well, yes. but, you seem very opposed to seeing him, so i’m guessing talking isnt on the table?” 

“you’d be right,” you take another sip, give him a smile you dont really mean. 

you’re not even sure why you’re here now. this is surreal. this is stupid of you. its in the name. 

“is he really as bad as he seems?” loki asks, tracing something on the floor. maybe gods are similar to humans, because you think you’ve seen this somewhere else. 

you laugh, though, anyway, and forget everything. “not really. hes sort of a good person, he just.. doesnt come off well.” to say the least.  

never has. never liked you much in the first place, but you have memories of him gifting you toys when you were kids. you have laughs, smiles. you had a family, once upon a time. 

you dont tell loki that though, you have enough sense not to. 

“i wonder if my brother would say the same thing about me?” 

and something about the way he says it, something about his face, about his words on the news, all of it. all of it reminds you of where you are, reminds you of who you are, and who you’re trying so hard not to be. 

emotionally compromised, you’re sure. this is a stupid thing to be doing. 

“well, you were going to murder me.” its a joke, but its better than what you wanted to say. its better than the truth you want to tell to this stranger you’ve just met. this god who feels peaceful somehow, behind all the terror. 

loki scoffs, so you know its okay, so you know you havent said the wrong thing yet. you know you havent gone insane, not yet, not now. 

“i would never murder someone so beautiful,” 

and maybe its the alcohol, maybe its your fight with your brother, maybe its loki’s kind words, maybe its everything. maybe you really are insane. maybe you’re angry enough for this to seem okay. maybe you’re stronger than you think, than tony thinks, to be here. maybe it’ll turn out okay. 

it doesnt matter, because the next thing you say, changes lots of things. 

“i guess you’re not so bad.” 

* 

“i’m old enough-” 

“you’re a child.” 

“tony, you dont get to decide whats best for me! in case you forgot, you’re only my brother. not my dad, he already died-” 

“in case you forgot, i’m in charge. you’re the most irresponsible, reckless person, and you’re not leaving here until i say so.” 

“you dont just get to decide-” 

“you will stay here. try not to mess anything else up.” 

*

2 years later.

the hallway is cold while you speed through it. 

you’re not actually moving that fast, but everyone else insists on keeping the air conditioning on at all times, so even the slightest of movements invites the goosebumps to attack your arms. 

maybe you’ll complain some more about it today. its a trivial thing you care about. it matters. 

what else matters? well, theres a meeting-- one you’re late to, who cares? theres a meeting and you were supposed to be there over a half an hour ago. 

but, to be fair, you were sleeping, everyone knows you were sleeping-- what else do you do during the days when they dont invite you anywhere? so why, honestly, would they schedule a meeting for now? why would they expect you to be awake? 

why are you so goddamn late. 

these are the irritating thoughts that get you moving faster to the conference room. these are the things you can think about while you prepare your excuse out loud, and hope that no one is listening. 

and these are the thoughts that you’re thinking as you crash through the door. 

literally. 

“oops,” you mutter before looking up. this is normal for you, but, you could’ve picked a better time to fall on the floor, or any other time rather. you’re already in enough trouble as is, you dont need the shame on top of that. 

it takes a moment, but your eyes glance forward, cautious. they scan the windows, the chairs you can barely see, and hesitantly, they look at the people sitting in them. 

tony, of course, is the first one you see. head of the table as usual. arrogant and staring at you like only a brother can. 

and then, with one more tilt of your head, you see someone else. you see him, sitting next to thor, next to all of these people who are staring at you-- most of them with amusement, all of them with amusement. you see him. 

hes here. 

but, you... you thought? you cant even get up-- now. because now you’re on the floor, and now those memories are flooding back and now, oh god, your brother is coming over to you and you’re still on the floor. 

this is ridiculous, this is impossible, and this is so so embarrassing. 

“loki,” tony starts as he reaches a hand out to you, throwing you a glance that is completely rude and not necessary. “this is y/n, our clumsiest avenger.” you’re sure you can hear him mutter something after that, and judging by the snickers across the room, you’re guessing it wasnt good. none of this is good. 

as soon as you’re standing next to him, you elbow him. small enough no one could see. he deserves it, and honestly, you need it. at least, you can get this shock, these pricks of pain on your heart, out somehow. 

“sorry,” you say, maybe to everyone, maybe to yourself. but you’re still looking at him, and hes still looking at you. you cant stop staring, cant stop, wont stop. 

you wonder if hes thinking the same thing you are. if he remembers like you do. 

loki stands then, presence of a god, smile of a bastard, lips that you’re sure you recognize. is this the same person? the same god of mischief? is this him? really? 

“hi, loki, lovely to meet you.” 

and, hes definitely got to be kidding you. hes definetly got to be joking, right now. 

you dont reach out to grab his hand, you dont move away from tony, and you dont even try to hide the glare from your eyes. you dont even attempt to make an effort. 

really? i mean, really? hes going to just.. 

okay, fine. fine. breathe, smile, breathe, yell. 

theres nothing you want more than to scream at him, in so many ways, for so many reasons. 

“yes, sorry, i dont shake hands. just bodies.” 

theres a chorus of clearing throats across the room. you pretend not to notice. instead, you smile at loki, pretend to also not to notice the threatening eyes tony is trying to throw you. pretend, again and again, that you dont know who this is. 

loki’s hand slowly falls, and he glances toward his brother worriedly, but even that couldnt annoy you more than his face does at this moment. 

“i’ll let you decide how, my prince.” you snide, smile, hate. 

and then, you walk to your sit and promtly sit down. you dont bother to look up from where your glance has landed on the floor. 

and you remain like that for the rest of the meeting. its fine, you’ve already missed half of it anyway. 

who cares? 

* 

“no, but really, where’d you get that?” 

“its asgardian,” loki leans forward, teasing you with his raised eyebrows. 

“i want it. how much?” you lean forward as well, completely serious. alcohol be damned, his scepter will be yours. you’re not one to kid. 

“you cant bargain with me, tiny human. you have nothing i want.” 

“im sure i could think of a few things... you dont even know how to be a proper villain!” you exclaim with a smirk of your own “you’re gonna want money when you’re thrown in jail.” 

“ill just take it off of you when i’ve decided im bored and offed you. plus, i’m a prince. and a god. i dont need money for anything.” 

“ha! like i could ever bore you. you seem awfully interested in me, prince loki.” 

you’re both closer, faces inches apart. really, its just the alcohol talking, but still. 

you’re smiling pretty big. 

*

you’re not sure how you got here again. how you ended up on this floor, in this kitchen, with this bottle, with these thoughts. not sure, but still. you cant really bring yourself to care too much. 

at least your throat doesnt hurt this time. at least you’re older, smarter, and most definitely not drunk. at least its not exactly the same. 

it takes more than that, now. it takes more than anything to make you angry, now. it takes a lot more to push you over the edge. you’ve grown, at least, in that aspect. 

but, you’ve been thinking of this for two years, you’ve been watching and waiting with hopeful eyes and this... this just isnt it. this isnt the dream, this isnt anything like what you’ve wanted. 

you’re still brainwashed and you’re still angry. you’ve been on the edge of the cliff for years now. 

it doesnt take much to fall off. 

you dont even know why, why you’re here, why this is happening, and its making it worse. 

you havent even seen him in two years, so why do you care so much if he wants to pretend that you’ve never met? you havent so much as spoken of him in two years, so why does it matter now that hes here? why is it so significant that he doesnt seem to care? 

you’re a fool. immature, idiotic. you’ve known this, you know this. you could’ve mentioned it every time you sat with hopeful eyes when an alien showed up, when a certain god of a certain storm appeared and you thought that maybe this time, he might’ve taken someone with him. 

you could’ve told yourself this every time you thought of him, every day you’ve thought of that night. you’re ridiculous, hopeless, and drunk. 

you’re drunk now, and you were drunk then. so why does it matter this much?

you’re drunk.

and really, this time you really arent expecting it when he walks in. 

its different from last time, different because you were already on the floor. different because now you’re mad at him, and because now for some reason you cant even explain, you know that its him. you can feel him from across the room. 

and this time, you’ve drunk a lot more. you’ve downed more than half a bottle, and you’re angrier. you’re happier, but so mad.

still, his quiet “hello” into the kitchen leaves your flame sparking. the lights are on, so he knows someone is in here. he knows you’re in here.

you’re not going to answer though, why would you? 

he doesnt repeat it, but his footsteps are clear, not accompanied with the banging of a gold scepter this time, no horns in sight. this is different, but you know exactly whats happening. you know exactly how he looks, now. 

these two years have felt like nothing, these two years of making up with your brother, of dreams of a certain god’s lips, of hoping that one day he might appear again, all of it means nothing now. there are too many memories, and you have known you’re insane for years. 

the footsteps stop again, and you know this time, hes waititng for you to answer. 

you’re drunk. that explains this feeling. you’re drunk now, you were drunk then. loki should leave because you really dont have the energy for fake pleasantries. 

“can i help you?” you ask, and try and breathe while you wait. you’re different now. 

“actually yes,” he says and its quiet. 

it leaves your stomach aching. 

“i’m looking for someone,” 

* 

“no! never, i will never ever-” 

“technically, you just did,” 

“i hate you.” 

loki laughs, throws his head back in a motion that is unnecessarily attractive to you. “you dont even know me, darling.” 

“i can hear your thoughts, actually.” 

you’ve been leaning on him for maybe the past five minutes. you’ve been sharing this second bottle for the last half an hour. somehow, it tastes better when he’s put his lips on it. 

“is this a human trait i’m unaware of?” he sounds so serious you giggle. 

“no, just me. you picked the wrong person to drink with,” 

“and what am i thinking about now, then, since you can hear it?” 

you turn to him, you turn and theres something different in your eyes. 

“exactly what i’m thinking,” you whisper, staring down, staring at him in the same way hes staring at you. 

what are you thinking of? well, thats simple. 

*

“fresh out of luck, prince. theres no one here.” 

your voice is quiet, your head is pounding, but you cant have a hangover already. you cant be sick now, in this moment. 

its not pounding because of that, and you cant even pretend. 

its dark outstide, which you know, considering that its the middle of the night and you shouldnt even be awake. you shouldnt even be in here, considering tony banned you from stealing from his cabinets. considering, you’ve been here before. considering, all of it. 

arent you only supposed to make the same mistake once? 

“really?” he asks in an amused voice you recognize. hes closer now, you can feel it. you can hear it, the goosebumps are all over you. the buzzing started minutes ago. 

you lay down, on the floor, breathing in and out, feeling your stomach clench with every step he takes. this is ridiculous, you should be asleep, he should be on a different planet. 

“its late. go to bed, loki.” your voice is still quiet, but theres a warning in it. 

“i have a vague inkling that you arent strict with bedtime,” 

his voice is stupid, you’re stupid. why are you just sitting on the floor? 

“no, but i am strict about lying. in that, i hate it. go away.” 

maybe he wasnt expecting the sharpness in your voice, or for you to be laying on the floor. but his eyes when he stands over you, his eyes are almost how you remember them. 

* 

“did you brainwash me?” 

you’re breathless. you cant breathe. and you cant be drunk now, because you never want to forget this, you never want him to move away. 

he tastes alien, he tastes different than anything you’ve ever tasted before, and you just cant stop. 

you lean in again, let your mouth be filled with the sweet cold of his. hes cooling you down in only the best kind of way. 

“not yet,” he says, he says and lets his hands roam across your hips, across your skin in a completely tantalizing way. you cant be drunk now, because you’d never feel like this if you were. 

you’re both breathless. you both cant breathe. 

“are you going to?” 

another kiss, another moment, another taste. you want to smile, but that would require you to move away from him, and you just cant do that.

“i dont need to,” he says, he promises. he smiles, and its evil. evil in how much it stops your heart. this cant be happening. “you’ve been dreaming of this.” 

you’re sure, he knows something you dont. hes done something to you, but you cant complain. 

you really can’t stop.

*

“are you upset?” he asks. its nothing he would’ve said before, its not a question that would’ve crossed his mind two years ago. this isnt him. 

you dont know how you know that, but you do. you know. you’ve met him before, and you’ve known him since then. in case he forgot. 

you laugh at the thought, laugh and laugh. you’re drunk. “is that sympathy i detect in the god of mischief’s voice?” you ask, and laugh. 

maybe he’ll leave just because you’re laughing so much. wouldnt that be nice? wouldnt that break your heart again, off you for good, finally?  

“well, you’re definitely intoxicated.” its sarcastic, its serious, and it makes your blood boil. who is he to judge you? who is he to say anything to you? to be here now, and expect you to answer questions?

you sit up, stare at him for too long, and then your face is a scowl hotter than the sun. you hope hes terrified, but you feel so small. you hope hes terrified, but you know hes not. how could he be, when you’re sure you look like a mess, worse than last time? 

“you would know a lot about that, wouldnt you loki? considering you were so drunk that you’ve forgotten all about me?” its rhetorical, its cruel, and it makes his eyes falter the tiniest bit. 

this. this is what you dont need. this is an emotion you never want to feel again, because you’re tired of the anger. you’ve been living it all your life, and you’e tired of it. but maybe thats what drew loki to you, maybe thats what he likes best. maybe thats why hes still standing in front of you. 

maybe thats what makes him a bad guy. 

he doesnt answer, and so you continue. you continue and you should just stop speaking. “excuse me, your highness, but i really just want to be alone right now. so, if you wouldnt mind, i’ve already claimed the kitchen floor.” you laugh, gesture somewhere you dont know. “tony has plenty of other spaces for you to infiltrate.” 

you think maybe its enough. you think hes going to leave, you think you’ll get to be alone for the rest of the night, maybe drink enough to forget that you ever met him, but then hes still standing there. he doesnt move an inch. 

you dont know what hes still doing here. you can see the light reflecting on his face, you can see his blank eyes, you cant see anything in him that you want anymore. of course, except everything. 

“loki,” you groan and stand up. you set the bottle on the counter next to you, and cross your arms. waiting. for anything, for everything. 

“i didnt forget you, and i wasn’t drunk.” 

oh, really? you scoff, scoff and take another sip before answering. 

“well, thats lovely for you, but-” 

“i was trying to be considerate, in case you didnt want your brother to know we’d already met.” 

some part of you, one you left behind two years ago when you woke up all alone, some part of you thinks thats sweet. some part of you wants to smile just because he said it. some part of you. 

the other part, just wants to scream. 

“well, thanks loki, but ‘considerate’ would’ve been, maybe, not leaving me to wake up alone in the morning.” 

really, its time for bed now, so, promptly, you try to past him, you try and try and. 

you’re back in the past again. goddamn, him.

*

“we shouldnt be-” you gasp before you can finish. you gasp and loki laughs against your skin. “this is a kitchen-” 

“there are worse places,” he promises in an awfully smooth voice, a voice you think you’ve maybe been dreaming of for years, a voice you want to drink. you’re intoxicated, and its not the alcohol. 

“loki, i’m drunk, you’re drunk.” 

“i am not drunk,”

“okay, mr. god, but this is still a kitchen.” 

he smiles up at you, kisses your skn again. 

“shh,” he says. 

you gasp again. 

* 

“..i had to leave. i didnt think it would...” he stops, stares at you for a moment before looking down. hes standng in front of you, not letting you move, not letting you think. “i didnt think it would worry you. i’m terribly sorry,” 

it sounds sincere, but then again, so did his promises before. 

“okay, loki.” you relent, you sigh, you take a step back and smile at him. none of it is real. “cool, thats nice. i’ll be going to bed now-” 

“i’ve wanted to see you for two years,” 

your mouth drops open. your eyes buldge, and you almost want to smack him. this, this is really all grand. 

this is so unfair. this is a cruel reminder you never wanted. this is a nightmare, come true. 

“i’m drunk. i’m leaving,” 

but again, he stops you, he stops you and you dont know why. why he wont just let you go, why he sought you out tonight, why this matters, why you care. 

why you got so goddamn attached to him that night, why you’d felt like a new person when you woke up the next morning and he was gone. 

you take a breath in. you smile again, you push down the flames burning at your throat. “we can both forget it, if you’d prefer. i promise i wont tell anyone, and we can just move on.” 

the words, the words you’re trying to offer him as a method of peace, those words, they send loki away from you. they make his face shift, they make him move back. 

he looks angry now. he looks how you feel.

“you want to forget it?” he asks, even though you just said it, even though you’ve already answered that question. even though, he knows what you meant. 

you arent slurring your words. 

“i just want to...” you cant finish that sentence though, and instead you nod. its enough, it doesnt take effort and its nothing special. it’s the truth, so, he’ll have to accept it.

you’ll go to bed now, you’ll forget that you’ve wanted to talk to him, that you still want to kiss him now. you’ll forget, and so will he. 

it will be easy. nothing more than a piece of cake. 

* 

“i’m sorry,” he whispers later, later when you cant remember your name, when you’ve remembered that you still havent even told him. 

“for what?” 

he kisses your neck instead of answering. 

‘you’re beautiful,” he says, you cant breathe, and hes still speaking. “i didn’t tell you before,” he breathes in and you can feel it in your stomach, can feel that sweet swirling deep inside. “i’m sorry”

“don’t worry about it..”

its late now, too late. you dont want to go to sleep. you never want to fall asleep again, not when you’ve just.. 

not with him. 

the kitchen floor is awfully comfortable. your eyes are falling, faster than you want them to.

*

“just want to what?” hes not hearing the words, and no matter what you might’ve said, you cant read his mind. 

“loki,” its another warning, because hes moving closer, because you can feel him again, because you still remember how he tastes. because that buzzing, the buzzing you’ve felt for so long, its digging itself deeper into your skin. 

“i dont want to forget,” he saiys, and no matter how much you want to believe it, it just sounds like another empty promise. sounds like something you’ve already heard. 

its not enough, but its just want you want. what you want is just there.. 

“i was drunk that night, i was sick. i was...” 

angry is the word you’re thinking of, but his lips are the ones you can feel. but his smile is the one you want, but his eyes, but his face, but his skin. 

his lips, his face, his skin, his touch. its been in your mind since then. its been glued to your thoughts. its stuck, and you want to peel it off. 

you arent supposed to be here, you arent supposed to be in this room, you arent supposed to be drinking this liquor, and you arent supposed to kiss him. 

you’ve gone insane for sure now. you aren’t supposed to do this.

and so, you do. 

*

you’re on the floor when you wake up. your head is pounding, your eyes are glued shut, but somehow they’re open. 

you dont remember where you are, you dont remember why you’re here. 

but you do remember... loki. loki, murderer, god, thief. he was here, you’re in the kitchen. 

his eyes, his lips, his peace, his lips, his skin, oh god. 

he was here. 

you look, you look around, you feel the pain in your body, you feel the anger piling up, you feel the ache in your neck, you feel it all and you look around. 

hes gone. he is. 

your head is pounding and hes gone. you cant remember why. 

*

masterlist here. 

[pandastern]

Gravity (Bakugou x OC)

Part 7: A Soldier’s Strength

Bakugou x Vigilante!OC

Warnings: angst, explicit language, violence

Word count: 3488

Genre: enemies to lovers ; angst ; romance, slow burn

When a new student makes an entrance, Bakugou has a real bad feeling. There is something about this girl that just doesnt feel right. From the flaming hair to the calculating glint in her green eyes, everything about her just pisses him off.

Little does he know that his fate is intertwined with the person he despises so much, defining his future path in a way he would have never expected.

“That should be all of them,” Kirishima said, wiping the sweat off his brow as the last of the villains that had attacked them fell unconscious to the ground.

“For now, anyway,” Bakugou growled.

After their attack on the portal villain had gone awry, they’d been sent here, straight into the middle of a group of waiting villains.Bakugou and Kirishima had fought hard and managed to overpower them, though even Bakugou couldn’t deny that it had taken a good chunk of energy out of him. His arms hurt from using his quirk so vigorously. He was well aware that they needed to be careful with their strength. God only knew how many more of those villains were around. Not to mention that wispy bastard. 

“Let’s hope it stays that way,” said Kirishima. “I’m guessing since we’re still here, the others must be inside the USJ. Now that we’re finished here, we should try and find them. They probably need our help, especially since we’re the reason we ended up in this mess. If we hadn’t attacked that portal guy, Thirteen could have just sucked him up... Yo, Bakubro, are you listening?”

Bakugou was, in fact, not listening. His mind was running over the events leading up to this fight. After their failed attack, the black clouds of the portal had engulfed them and dragged them away. He remembered clearly how the wispy villain’s tendrils had wrapped around Artemis’s body, whisking her away by herself.

He looked around. The five villains that had waited for him and Kirishima were still down on the floor. What if Artemis had had to face similar odds? Bakugou could feel his own exhaustion clawing at him, and Kirishima didn’t seem to be much better off. Even though the villains hadn’t exactly been the strongest, it was the amount of them that they had to keep on eye on. Shit. If Artemis really was alone, this could mean serious trouble for her. The image of her face popped up in his head and something in him tensed. Would she be okay?

He shook his head. Of course she’d be okay. As angry as the memory made him, Artemis had wiped the fucking floor with him in their fight. That girl was a force to be reckoned with. Of course she was okay. She had to be.

Unease rose within his stomach. Why was he even worried about her? Perhaps he felt responsible for her in a way, since anything that happened to her now would be indirectly his fault. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Bakugou shook his head. No, Artemis would be fine. She was strong and fierce. Not that he cared, obviously.

The sound of a bullet hissing through the air past his ear and hitting the wall just inches away from Kirishima’s face ripped him out of his train of thought. Hearing his classmate yelp in surprise, he whipped around, ready to blast the next enemy to kingdom come. He spotted a man dressed in black leather gear in the broken window of the rundown room they were trapped in. The barrel of a gun pointed directly at his face. Shit. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, making his skin prickle. He may be fast, but not faster than a fucking gun! No use in stalling his attack. He needed to hurry. He raised his gauntlet hand and got ready to fire.

With a slam, the door burst open and something sharp hissed into the room. A long ice arrow buried itself into the gunman’s left shoulder. The momentum of the shot knocked the villain off his feet with a pained cry.

Bakugou’s red eyes flickered to the direction from where the arrow had come.

Artemis stood in the doorway, swirling water bow in hand, a wild look in her eyes that sent a shiver down his spine.

For a moment, silence fell over the room as Bakugou’s brain tried to process what had just happened. He realised that she’d shot that man without so much as a hesitation to save them. 

“Whoa, Artemis! Are you okay?” Kirishima’s voice pulled him back to the present.

Kirishima was already on the way to the door. He caught Artemis just before her knees buckled and she sank down to the ground.

“I’m fine,” she snapped, pushing his hands off her.

“Artemis, you’re… you’re covered in blood,” Kirishima gasped as he looked her over.

Bakugou stepped closer, taking a closer look at her. Kirishima was right. Artemis had several blood splatters across her PE uniform. Her clothes were ripped in several places and bruises covered her skin. He noticed a particularly nasty cut on her cheek and right upper arm.

Artemis pushed Kirishima off her again and rose to her feet. “Don’t shit yourself, Kirishima. It’s not my blood.”

“Is that supposed to calm me down? What the hell happened?”

“Villains. Would you rather it be my blood?” Artemis snapped at him.

“Wha- Of course not!” Kirishima gasped.

Bakugou stayed in the background as he observed the situation. A surprising wave of relief washed over him. Artemis was fine. She couldn’t be that bad, considering how she was yapping about again. A few bruises and cuts didn’t usually kill anyone, right? But something about that wild look in her eyes was… alarming.

Ignoring Kirishima’s protests, Artemis walked over to one of the villains lying on the ground and poked them with her foot.

“They’re out cold,” Bakugou growled, crossing his arms. “I made sure of that.”

Instead of answering, Artemis closed her eyes and kept still for several seconds. A familiar anger bubbled up in Bakugou’s gut. He really didn’t like being ignored. “Oi! I said-” he barked, but Artemis held up a hand to stop him. “I can see that,” she said before looking up. “Kirishima, help me out.”

“S-sure.”

She started to strip off her PE jacket. What in the hell was she doing now, Bakugou thought. There were no snide undertones, no cockyness in her voice anymore. Just clear-cut seriousness, like a veteran soldier emerging from his latest battle.

“What exactly are we doing?” Kirishima asked as he helped Artemis put her jacket onto one of the unconscious villains.

“There’s someone on the roof of the building next to us. I want to check something,” she replied.

“And how would you know if someone is on the roof? You came from the back, genius!” Bakugou protested. “Have you got an x-ray vision quirk now, too?”

“No, you idiot. I sensed him,” Artemis replied.

“Sensed him? How?”

Artemis sighed deeply, as if she were having to explain something simple to a child. God, he hated it when she got like this. How the fuck was he supposed to know what kind of stealth wizard magic she had?

“My quirk, Bakugou,” Artemis replied calmly. “I can manipulate and sense water molecules. That means I can read heartbeats. My quirk picks up on water molecules in a person’s blood and can read how fast it’s circulating by the pressure of the heartbeat”

Silence fell as both boys tried to process what she’d just dropped on them.

“Wait, hold on.” Kirishima laughed nervously. “So, what you’re saying is that… you can feel how fast water moves through the body by the pressure of the heart?”

“Exactly that. There’s someone on the roof and their heartbeat is slow and steady. In other words, they’re pretty confident of their position. And since it’s unlikely for one of our classmates to be this calm, I’m pretty sure whoever that person is, they’re bad news.”

The gears in Bakugou’s head had already started turning. It made sense. Blood was essentially water, after all. He remembered how Artemis had drawn the moisture out of the vegetation around them as they’d fought, how the grass and plants had turned to dust, dried up and dead. A shiver ran down his spine. Was she able to do that with everything? Plants and the air was one thing, but what about animals and...  people?

As quick as that thought entered his mind, he pushed it away. No. Who did he think Artemis was? Jesus, or something? No way. While she wasn’t someone to be taken lightly, she certainly wasn’t that strong. UA wouldn’t let someone that dangerous loose among them, would they?

Bakugou watched as Kirishima helped Artemis dress the villain in her uniform jacket and drag him towards the door.

“What exactly are you trying to do?” he asked in a gruff tone.

Kirishima just shrugged. So, Crazy Eyes hadn’t told him anything, either? How annoying. 

“Don’t pout, Bakugou. You’ll see soon enough,” Artemis grumbled before turning back to Kirishima again. “On three, throw him outside the door.”

Kirishima frowned in confusion. Bakugou’s fingers itched for his quirk. Even injured, she still had the strength to look down on him. To think that he’d been worried for her safety just a moment ago…

“The body should be visible from the roof there,” Artemis said.

Bakugou watched as Kirishima shrugged and followed along. A slight suspicion started to grow inside him. Was she gonna use that villain as bait? Begrudgingly. he had to admit that this wasn’t the worst plan he’d ever heard of.

Artemis grunted as she helped Kirishima pick up the body. Bakugou narrowed his eyes. Had she just flinched, or had he imagined it? With a groan, he stepped closer and pulled her off the villain.

“Hey!” she protested, but he ignored her and took her place.

“Just fucking admit that youre tired, woman! You’re gonna kill yourself like that,” he grumbled.

He sensed Kirishima raise his eyebrow, but one glare made him look away quickly. He wasn’t doing this because he cared. Of course he didn’t care. He was doing this because should Artemis overexert herself, he’d be the one who’d have to protect her and that was absolutely not on the goddamn table. 

Bakugou took a deep breath to steady himself. Giving Kirishima a nod, they counted to three and threw.

The body of the villain, clad in Artemis’s PE jacket, hadn’t even hit the ground before a gunshot echoed through the air. The bullet pierced the villain through the neck. Bakugou’s blood froze. Looking over to Kirishima, he could see him pale as well. 

“Tch.” The sound of a tongue clicking in annoyance made him whip around.

Artemis stood unfazed, her brows furrowed as if she’d just encountered a minor inconvenience in her plans. How was she not scared? There were people out to fucking kill them. With bullets!

And here she was, acting like this was just a normal, everyday situation. 

“Of course it would be a sniper.”

“You knew,” Bakugou said flatly. “How did you know?”

Directing her attention back to him, Artemis crossed her arms and took a deep breath.

“I didn’t know, but I had a suspicion,” she replied in a calm voice that sent shivers down his spine. “No one in combat is that calm on a roof during a battle. In my experience, it’s usually snipers.”

“Your experience?” kirishima asked, his voice laced with disbelief. “What the hell did they teach you at that school in Europe? That’s crazy!”

That seemed to catch her off guard a little bit. Artemis shook her head and crossed her arms. “Let’s just say my education was… thorough.”

Thorough, huh? Bakugou could tell that wasn’t entirely the truth. Again, Artemis was hiding something, being vague with who she was. It irked him to the point where he just wanted to grab and shake her.

“So, what exactly are we gonna do now?” Kirishima asked. “I mean, I can be bulletproof for a period of time, but I don’t think I’d be able to shield both of you to get out of here.”

“Just point me in the direction of that sniper and I’ll blast him right off,” Bakugou growled, cracking his knuckles.

“You’d both be dead before you could even reach them,” Artemis interjected.

God, Bakugou hated it when she was right. He turned towards her, eyes narrowing. “What do you propose, then? You seem to have something cooking in that freaky brain of yours.”

For a moment, Artemis froze in place, as if he had managed to catch her off guard.

“Well…” she started tugging at her bottom lip, a habit he’d noticed she did whenever she was deep in thought. “I may have a plan, but I’m not sure either of you is gonna like it.”

“Just spit it out, man,” Kirishima said, flashing her a toothy grin.

“Fine. Kirishima, I need you to get out that door and distract the sniper. Meanwhile, Bakugou and I will take the stairs up to the second level.” Her eyes set on Bakugou with an intensity that froze him in place. “I need you to blast yourself into the air while holding me. If I get high enough to take a clear shot, I can take out the enemy without us having to engage in any further combat.”

“You want me to do what?” Bakugou scoffed. “Carry you? What if you miss? You’d leave us open for attack, not to mention give our location away to any other villains in the area.”

“I don’t miss,” Artemis deadpanned. “I never miss. I know this plan isn’t optimal, but it’s the only possible way to get us out of here. I need…”

Bakugous eyes widened as she stepped closer and grabbed him by the wrist. He could clearly feel the trembling of her fingers. “I know you hate me, but just this once, please… trust me.”

Trust her? Was she joking? Every second word that came out of her mouth was a lie! Bakugou was ready to go off on her, when the look on her face made him stop. This girl looked nothing like the calculating soldier he’d seen when she’d first entered the class. Artemis almost looked… vulnerable and human.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Let’s do this.”

He gave Kirishima a nod and waited until Artemis had explained the precise details and timings of her plan before taking the lead up the stairs. He cursed himself for not taking both of his gauntlets to the dome, but there was nothing he could do about that now.

When they reached the second floor, Bakugou opened the window and climbed onto the sill. He held out his hand to Artemis.

“Are you going to be okay? You only have one shot.” Her face was so pale. She really was running on fumes. But he couldn’t let that stop him if he wanted to live. He couldn’t help but feel respect for her for willing to push herself that far.

Taking his hand, Artemis let herself be pulled against him. “Don’t worry. I’m not gonna miss. Just blast yourself up and throw me up as high as you can. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Her determination was unbroken, and Bakugou hated that he liked that about her. Taking a deep breath, he waited until he heard Kirishima’s loud voice taunting the villain on the roof and the sound of bullets ricocheting off his hardened skin before jumping. Using as much force as he could possibly muster, Bakugou blasted himself upward with Artemis clinging to him.

“Now, throw me!” Artemis shouted in his ear. He shifted, placing his hands beneath her foot, and launched her as high as he could.

Bakugou watched as her small body twisted in the air, water collecting around her hands to form her bow. She took aim and shot. The loud  thud of an arrow successfully hitting its target echoed through the area. Then she fell.

Quickly blasting upward again, Bakugou caught her in his arms. Now falling together with her, he prepared to lessen the fall with his quirk, but before he could gather his energy, water started to draw towards them and encased them in a bubble.

The moment their bodies hit the ground, the bubble burst, taking most of the blunt force of the impact. Bakugou rolled onto his back, coughing. The landing had knocked the air out of him.

“Well, I gotta say, that went better than expected.” Kirishima’s voice called out to him.

He was right, Bakugou thought. He almost couldn’t believe it himself. He got back onto his feet and looked for Artemis, who’d been unusually quiet since the landing.

Artemis lay on the ground, curled up, writhing slightly. His stomach dropped.

“Artemis!” Bakugou knelt beside her, grabbed her arm and pulled her up.

“I’m fine,” she hissed, her breaths ragged.

Clearly, that was a lie. So, she’d taken a bigger hit than he’d suspected at first. “You’re not. You’re close to collapsing! For fuck’s sake, Artemis, you should have-”

She grabbed his arm with a strength he hadn’t expected, shoved him off and forced herself to her feet again. Was she trying to kill herself? 

“I can still fight! Don’t worry about me. We need to get to the others. The rest isn’t important,” she snapped.

White hot anger bubbled up Bakugou’s gut, setting his veins on fire. “Do you even hear yourself? You’re done! Look at you. If you keep this up, you’re going to fucking die! You won’t be able to help anyone,” he roared.

How could a single girl be so stubborn? Didn’t she care about her own life? Just earlier on the bus, she’d been so arrogant about being a liability in a fight and now here she was! God, he just wanted to smack her.

But before he could snap at her and vent his own anger, a huge explosion made the whole USJ tremble in its foundations.

“What the hell was that?” Kirishima gasped as finally he caught up with them. “There must be a huge fight going on.”

“We need to help them.” Artemis gritted her teeth and started walking.

“No, you dont!”

Bakugou jumped to his feet and went after her with big strides. Enough was enough. He wasn’t about to let her push herself to a point where she’d lose her life through her own stubbornness. If he had to grab her and knock some sense into that thick skull of hers, so help him God, he would.

Artemis had put quite a lot of distance between them when she started to wobble. Bakugou noticed the dangerous sway in her step and sped up, catching her just before her knees buckled.

“Fucking told you, dumbass,” he hissed.

He pulled her into his lap, alarmed at just how hot her skin felt.

“No… I need to…” she mumbled, her speech becoming slightly slurred.

“The fuck do you mean, you need to? You can’t do shit like this! You’ve done enough,” he growled.

A strange wetness spread across her back, soaking through her black shirt and seeping into Bakugou’s glove. Confused, he pulled her closer, his free hand pulling up her shirt to expose the area.

What he saw turned his blood to ice and made his anger simmer down to fear.

There was a deep wound on her back, just below her kidney. The flesh around it had turned an unnatural greenish blue tint. The weaker Artemis grew, the more blood seemed to seep through.

“What the…” he whispered in horror.

When had this happened, and why hadn’t she said anything? How had she just now started bleeding?

“F-fuck,” Artemis whispered weakly, her eyes becoming glassy. “A villain… stabbed me. I held it in… I think… poison.”

Bakugou stared down at her in disbelief. “Held it in? How did you… How the fuck did you even fight with that?”

“Quirk… I controlled my own blood flow.” She coughed weakly. “I had to. It was either fight… or die.”

Artemis struggled in his arms, trying to get up again, but he pushed his arm under her legs and picked her up, putting a stop to her struggles. He needed to get her to the teachers. She was dying. Even he could tell that much.

“Shut the fuck up,” he barked and started walking, Kirishima trailing after him.

Every few steps, he looked down at her, making sure she was still awake. Fear made his head pound. More and more blood leaked from her, soaking his clothes and leaving a trail of droplets.

“You stupid woman,” he growled. “Why didn’t you say anything? You’re fucking dying, goddamnit.”

Why was it that she looked so small and broken in his arms? As if all her walls had finally crumbled.

“I’m… sorry,” Artemis whispered, barely audible. “Thank you… for trusting me. No-one has ever…”

Her voice trailed off and her head fell back. Artemis had lost consciousness.

“Shit! Fucking hell, Artemis, dont you dare!”

In that moment, more shots echoed through the USJ and the loud scream of Present Mic told him that help was here at last. His steps picked up the pace. He needed to get her to the teachers. Now.

[missjackil]

Season 8

I’ve seen a lot of discussion about Season 8 lately, most of you hate it, or at least the first half. Understandable really, it was a train wreck! I will go on record to say that yes, Sam was very OOC for not looking for Dean, but it’s canon, so we do have to accept it. 

I do think however, I may understand what Carver was going for with it. I’m not saying it was executed well, but from what all happened in the previous seasons, I think it was very important to establish who the brothers are to each other. Looking back through every season before this one, though there were some very good broments a lot the way, there were a lot of unnecessary fights, lies, insults and mistrust. How could they really sell to us how deeply they love each other while they keep hurting each other so badly? 

In this essay, I may come down hard on both brothers at times. Please dont take it that I hate either or that I’m a stan for one or the other. I love these boys... flaws and all, so if you’re okay hearing your fav isnt always perfect (whichever bro that might be) please continue :)

In the beginning of Season 8, we have this strange, awkward, and OOC clusterfuck that we all blame bad writing for. And it was, I agree, and so do Jared and Jensen, but they both love where it led and are proud of the finished product. 

I’ll start with the major OOC elephant in the room that is Sam not looking for Dean. He never really gives us a reason, even though later in the season he says that his whole world imploded, came raining down on him and he ran. We have to keep that as the only canonical reason as to why he didn't, so we only have headcanons to fill in the blanks. My main concern with it really is just that I am sure that Sam would have at least established Dean was dead for real, before moving on. There were no bodies, or even any blood, to indicate that Dean might be dead. I do believe that Sam would have or should have at least bought an Ouija Board , but then what could he do? Everyone he knew who could help him was dead. All the lore books they’d been using for 7 years were burned up in Bobby’s house. All that was left was Dad’s journal which had very little information in it. So he accepts Crowley’s words “You are in fact truly on your own”, fixed up the Impala and drove. 

I don't believe Sam was suicidal. Crushed yes, depressed as hell but he won't kill himself without helping people in some way. Same with Dean. They may have wanted to die and would welcome death many times, but they're selfless martyrs, they won't eat a bullet or drive off a bridge, unless it was for a greater good. So Sam didnt look for Dean, because “Dean wouldnt want that” as we saw how pissed Dean was at Sam in S4 when he thought Sam sprung him from Hell, Sam had to remember that.  Sam also knows he wanted Dean to have a normal life when he was gone, and Dean was nearly successful. Also, in the very same episode that Dean apparently died in, Bobby told them both upon leaving, “when it’s your time... go” So Sam most likely thought Dean would be proud of him if he moved on. That IS why Dean taught him how to fix the Impala a few years back right?

So Sam tries to move on. I hated Amelia, but I dont think we were ever supposed to really like her or “ship” them, we were supposed to feel the fakeness, how awkward and just wrong it was. Sam never looked content with her, even though once she stopped treating him like trash, he smiled a lot, he never seemed happy. She was nothing more to him than a grief partner and a physical distraction. He probably enjoyed playing house though, having a dog, getting a paycheck, but it wasn't really his life. 

Meanwhile, Dean is in Purgatory with Cas and Benny, fighting monsters every day all day for a year. And this isn't a bad place for Dean honestly, he even referred to it as his “happy place” later, but it wasn't home, and Sam wasn't there. So in addition to slashing monsters all day, Dean was trying to find his way out to get back to Sam and their life. 

Dean comes out and finally, he meets back up with Sam. The reunion hug was amazing! One of my favorites. they both looked genuinely happy to be with their brother again, but it was sadly short-lived.  When Dean told Sam he wasn’t dead, he was in Purgatory, you can see the color leave Sam’s face. Like “Shit, I fucked up, I should have looked for him.” and then comes Sam’s big reveal that he got out of hunting. Watch how he says this. He’s not hiding it, he’s kind of cheerful about it, not like when Dean came back from Hell and he knew he was doing something Dean would be pissed at, he may have THOUGHT Dean would be pleased that he tried to move on, but obviously, Dean was not. 

Im not blaming either of them for what they felt. They’re both justified in it. Sam felt like Dean would want this for him, and Dean felt like Sam was out there looking for him, or at least missing him terribly, and needed to get back. Imagine if you will, as each other's spouse. One goes off to war, goes MIA and is presumed dead, though no body is found. It may have been established beforehand that if anything happened to the soldier, that his remaining spouse is to move on with their life. However the soldier isn't dead, he’s a POW and he busts his ass for a year to try to get home. You bet he’s going to be pissed off when he gets home to see his spouse DID move on and didn't even ask for proof he was dead first. 

Now we have Dean angry with Sam, Sam feeling guilty, but not willing to take the griping, so he’s going to fire back, and start threatening to leave. We have known from day 1 that Dean doesn't want Sam to abandon him. But he feels like Sam abandoned him in Purgatory, and now he’s trying to abandon him in the real world. 

I feel like, at this point, Sam felt like he had the upper hand. He had the “Stop nagging me or I'm out” card, but he didn't know Dean had a card left to play either. He had the “Leave me and I'll replace you” card.  This takes us to when Sam met Benny. Sam had been looking at schools again, weighing his options, so Dean thought it was time to introduce him to Benny. 

Dean hadn't seen Benny since they got back, so had he and Sam been in good graces, I don't think Dean would have run out to help him when he called, or at least he wouldn't have been secretive about it, but they were on shaky terms and if Sam wanted to play emotional chicken with him, Dean can play this game too. There was no reason at all for Dean to have told Sam to meet him at the dock. Dean had his car, Sam had to steal one to get there. Sam rushes because he thinks Dean needs him, and now he’s not answering his phone, and Sam is panicking. Dean had told him he was on this hunt with a friend, but Dean doesnt have any friends right? Certainly none he can trust to have his back in a hunt right? Dean must be in trouble! However, when Sam gets to the dock, Dean is pulling up with this big dude. The camera focuses on Sam and Benny’s hands long enough for us to notice that Benny’s hand is bigger than Sam’s. Sam turns from pissed off brother, reluctant hunting partner, to jealous spouse in 60 seconds. He goes for his blade, he’s going to kill this bastard! Dean shakes his head.... “no”. Sam had no idea Benny was a Vamp at that point, he was going to kill his replacement. Dean got this, oh so smug look on his face “Go ahead and leave me.... but don't think I’ll be alone”.

I'm going to leave it there because I don't want to analyze the entire season. What I want to show you is that Carver must have wanted to deconstruct the entire relationship, look at each piece of it, and show it to us, and then put it back together by the end of the season. By the end of Sacrifice, we learned Dean doesn't want to be without Sam but is willing to let Sam go and live his normal life, but to do that Dean wants to go out saving the world so Sam and everyone else can be safe. Sam doesn't want to be without Dean, but he thinks he's lost Dean’s trust, and he’s been replaced by Benny, Cas and holds Dean back from doing what he wants, so he’s going to save the world, even though it’s going to kill him in the process. 

Dean had told Sam that he didn't burn Benny’s body when he killed him, and Sam said he understood, and he might need him later. 

So I hope you can see why I feel Carver did this. I for one knew that Sam and Dean loved each other, but I honestly didnt see this “nothing comes before you” type bond before S8. So he took everything, from the very root, in the beginning, and laid it all out on the table for us, before giving us this epic defining moment in the Church between Sam and Dean. Sam would rather die than lose his place with Dean, and Dean would rather kill them all and let the world burn than to lose Sam, 

So even though I think the beginning was poorly executed, I do appreciate what it was showing us and I love the finished product. There hasn't been a more defining season in the whole series. As much as you might hate S8, you probably wont ever put the church scene out of your mind, and what led up to it. So, in my humble opinion, rocky start Mr Carver, but well played 🙌

[pigstepmp3-moved]

gimme any headcanons you got on how buck and christopher make plans for/celebrate eddies bday!!!

eddie insists about a gazillion times that he doesnt want Anything for his birthday. he doesnt want any presents and he certainly doesnt want a big ol celebration. he says that just spending time with his two favorite guys is gift enough for him

buck decides that thats absurd. after all, eddie went all out for HIS birthday. and besides, eddies always been nothing but supportive and loving and wonderful, and bucks convinced that he deserves the entire world. if he cant give him the world, he’ll settle for giving him the Best Birthday Ever

one day, when eddies got work and buck + christopher get to stay home, buck decides that they Gotta start planning for the Best Birthday Ever

christopher is immediately On Board for giving his dad an amazing day. he thinks itd be weird if they Didnt go all out

they decide on smth simple but still very Special and Grand

luckily enough, all three of em have work + school off on eddies bday (buck may or may not have begged bobby to let them both have the day off. bobby was very begrudging about it, but what can he say? hes a sucker for romance)

when i say buck and christopher got up hella early, i mean HELLA early. we all know eddie wakes up at ass o’clock every morning, and buck is so not about that life. but its Worth it bc him and chris are gonna make eddie smile like a damn goofball!!

they make eddie a huge breakfast (well, Buck makes a huge breakfast. christopher helps out as much as he can). im talkin bacon, eggs, coffee, the Hugest stack of blueberry pancakes that buck could make, And a muffin w a lil birthday candle on top

they head in to surprise eddie w his special birthday breakfast, and as soon as eddie sits up and sees all the food, he MELTS. he tells buck that they didnt have to go through all the trouble, and buck just gives him this puzzled look before saying “um, of course we had to. its your birthday. you deserve an amazing day.” christopher gets the biggest grin on his face and v enthusiastically agrees.eddies not crying, he just has something in his eyes

after that, most of the day is pretty casual. the three of them mostly just cuddle on the couch and watch all of eddies favorite movies (all of them are rom coms. you can pry the “eddie loves rom coms” hc out of my cold, dead hands)

come dinner time, tho. THAT is bucks time to SHINE

buck tells eddie that the two of them are going Out. eddies like “what no we cant leave christopher home alone.” but oh-ho, little does eddie know, buck and chris got maddie in on the Whole Damn Thing. maddie shows up right then and there to babysit. eddies a lil reluctant at first, but maddie is nothing of not persuasive

(just before they leave, eddie sees maddie wink, nudge buck w her elbow, and whisper smth to him that makes him blush up a storm. u can color eddie confused at this point)

buck takes eddie out on a v swanky dinner (they dont go to one of those fancy restaurants that serve u bread tho. buck gets too many horrific flashbacks when he goes to those kinds of places)

buck is smoother and suaver than he has EVER been. he pulls eddies chair out for him and showers him in compliments the whole evening. at one point, eddie tells him, “babe. we’ve been together for ages now. you dont have to try and impress me anymore.” buck just gives him a coy smile and shrugs a little

as the evenings coming to a close, buck gets seemingly more and more nervous. eddie has never been more confused in his LIFE

eventually, buck goes on a whole spiel about how much he loves eddie, how much eddie means to him, how happy and how Loved hes felt since they got together. just as eddies about to ask him where this is all coming from, BAM. buck pulls a lil box out of his jacket pocket and is one knee before eddie even realizes whats happening

when buck finally gets the question out, “will you marry me?”, eddie starts BAWLING. he tries to keep it together long enough to say yes, but jesus, hes in love with the sweetest, most thoughtful man in the WORLD, literally Nobody could keep it together if they were in his position. so he just nods frantically, and the smile buck gives him could make the sun itself jealous. eddie pulls him up by the lapels of his jacket and kisses the hell out of buck while buck tries to blindly put the ring on eddies finger

the moment the ring is finally on eddies finger, it feels like every moment of his life has been leading up to this. he gives buck the widest, goofiest grin ever. it makes buck laugh w delight

later on, when they get home, long after chris has gone to bed, maddie gives them a very knowing look, asks, “how was dinner?” entirely too casual

“you knew about this?” “are you kidding me? of COURSE i knew about this. im the one who helped pick out the ring, goofball”

immediately after maddie leaves, eddie drags buck to bed to Properly Celebrate the fact that theyre getting married

when theyre both laying in bed, spent and exhausted and trying to catch their breaths, buck quietly says, “so. best birthday ever or what?” eddie just laughs, rolls his eyes, and kisses buck gently bc bucks Right but he doesnt wanna make buck anymore smug than he already is

[carmineclock]

Dead Man Blues

Doc Scratch 4:28 PM

Its been an hour or so since your big meeting with the others, hopefully things have cooled down somewhat since then. You'd like to think you kept it quite calm and tasteful, despite your overall annoyance. Most of this time you spent updating your journal. You really have to do something about all these journals, its not safe to keep so many. And yet... With a sigh you set your pen aside. Time to do yet more damage control. You still think theres a chance you can get through to Trace, though perhaps you might be as bad as Clover in taht regard. Hoping is one thing, some men just dont change. Still, you make your way down to the holding cells. Perhaps your chat with Trace just needed a more dire backdrop. A broken arm and a cold concrete room with metal bars could be just what the Doctor ordered. Hoo hoo.

Trace 9:01 PM

Dire backdrop is an understatement. Your arm is long swollen, wrapped carefully in your shirt to give it some stability. You know a bit of first aid, but that is surprisingly difficult when it's your own arm and the only means you got available are what you have on your person. The new wound on your chest is just as aching, red and bloody with a hint of gold. You may have managed to pass out for a few hours, but you could hardly call that sleep, especially with that nightmare. Her body, stabbed and strung up - not Aradia's, but Nepeta's. A message to the one closest to her - Fin, angryy setting fire to your very self. The images linger, even long after you finally come to. And then the nightmare after you wake up - Snowman and how she dragged Fin in for your mutual punishment. How she used your wedding rings to violently erase the tattoo on your chest marking your love and relationships. When Scratch enters, you're wide awake, as much as you loathe it. Your mind still feels foggy and worlds away, definitely not prepared for a talk with him.

Doc Scratch 2:28 AM

You study him as you walk in, taking note of the remnants of Snowmans lesson. As graceful as she is deadly, as always. The gold makes a nice addition in your opinion. You take a chair from the nearby table and move it to in front of the bars in silence. After you moment you sit backwards with your arms resting over the back of the chair sit down normally, like a gentleman. This isnt an interrogation, or a call for confession, its just a conversation. "So, lets have it out, Trace. Whats this Droog business really all about. Dont you realize what youve cost yourself?"

Trace 9:51 AM

It never not feels like an interrogation with Scratch. You look up and watch him as he gets comfortable, then stare off to the side when he speaks. The muscles in your jaw tense, and when you reply, your hoarse and cracking voice clearly shows your exhaustion and pain. "Sir.. Do we really need to do this now? I'm not exactly the best for a talk right now and I'm really not too keen on netting me another scar for mouthing off..." Of course, you're aware he wouldn't have it any other time then when you're broken and at your wit's end.

Doc Scratch 11:27 AM

"If you're worried about your mouth, then I suggest you keep a civil tongue. I'm not concerned, though. Theres a kind of freeing honesty that cement walls and metal bars bring that can be found nowhere else. At this point, I would rather you speak freely, its just us now." Just the two of you. Man to man, or whatever Trace can be considered. Its an interesting thought, his classification may change as his DNA did. You'll have to look into that later. For now, your eyes are solely on him. His broken body, his pain. "Tell me true, Trace. I want to hear it. All of it. I wont punish you for speaking truthfully when asked. Its lies I hate the most."

Trace 3:03 PM

You give him a sour smile. You'll believe it when you see it. "What this is about, you really gotta ask?" Feels like you already talked plenty enough about this, and you doubt you got anything else to say that could placate him. Only plenty of frustration that has built up over everything, and you're way too tired to filter your words. Lets see who of the two of you is going to regret that more. "I.. am sorry that any of this ever reflected back on you, Nepeta or any of the Felt. It should never have been anything but personal. Which, I realize...  there's not really a personal in this outfit, is there?" you begin, actually honestly. "This... it was nothing more than a brawl between two guys heated up on a little too much emotion. But then this bastard.. abducted Nepeta, tortured and abused her, and then me. Cause he was pissed he got decked in the face. And he kept going, provoking us again and again, paralyzing her, seducing another, hurting us, as a whole, again and again. How could you expect me to do just nothing? You've been sending a signal, to them and to us, that they can just pick members of this very house off the street and do with us what they want." You try to sit up properly to face him better, wincing from the pain shooting through your arm again. "How has this not been a war yet for fuck's sake? How come Snowman can take the god damn white queen hostage, but we sit idle when the Crew come to pick us apart bit by bit? How come Snowman can take the god damn white queen hostage, but we sit idle when the Crew come to pick us apart, bit by bit?"

Doc Scratch 6:17 PM

You sit in silence, letting him say what hes going to say. You dont blame him for his views, and if anything, this lashing out may prove beneficial to you. No matter what happens from now on, Droog will have the reminder in the back of his mind. Certainly he wont forget it. Idly, you pull at the edge of your gloves, nodding every so often through his heated speech. Well, hes partially right on certain fronts. It really should have been war by now, whether you wanted it to be or not. The crew have gotten bolder and bolder, could it be your fault? Through inaction, have you allowed the crew more purchase on this slippery slope than you'd intended? "To start off, I'll answer your question. The reason it has not been war yet is because we did not have the numbers to win a war." You let out a silent sigh. "In truth, I'd hoped to collect our full set before provoking the Crew into an all out battle. I dont know how many wars you've seen, Trace, but I've seen enough to know that as much as you and all the others may want to go to war, young men that you are, we are not in a favored position for it. The Crew will always have the love of the common people, they built this city, and those that reside here are their kin. They have the better defenses, and most importantly, they have magic. True magic, the likes of which I cant begin to match." You pause to stand, arms folded behind your back as you pace, speaking more to the open air than to Trace now.

"Snowman is an army in her own right, its folly to compare anything or anyone to her. This little brawl you've had with Diamonds, its beyond reason and a waste of resources besides. If you were provoked into action, then you're a fool, because thats what Diamonds wanted from you. But more than that, you've allowed him to take the higher ground. The city is going to bleed now, I'll see to that, but you've allowed Diamonds to make it personal. And a man on a revenge mission doesnt care for the ruin he causes. I did not take what I've taken of this city for the last fourty years just to see it burned by some self righteous bastard in an Armani tuxedo." Another sigh, louder this time. You rub your temple, pausing in your pacing to look back at him. "Provoking. Abusing. Hurting us. All of us. You're right on that front. What one of us suffers, we all suffer. It was my mistake. I took this for play, the usual violence between men at odds, petty revenge for the sake of sleeping better." “But no, this has gotten well and truly out of hand. And its too late to go back. You’ve signed us up for a a war we were not prepared for, against an enemy whose eyes you’ve spit in, and now you say it should have been sooner. Hmph. Maybe you’re right. I dont hear the heckling of those underneath me, but it would only make sense that you do. So, then, its to be war. Do you have any plans for this war you’ve longed for, Trace? Any soldiers for the army? Connections to supplies and trades? Or did you expect that all you had to do was start it, and that I would finish it?”

Trace 8:05 PM

Well, obviously, you don't have any of these. You didn't plan for a war, let alone prepare for it. This was a selfish and careless act of revenge and he knows that. You're slowly starting to realize that you feel more bewildered about Nepeta's reaction than the prospect of war. This life has already been hell and you're tired of playing along. How little you care about Scratch's achievements and goals. Still, that is not an answer to give your boss and, unfortunately, owner. You close your eyes and think. The least you owe the others is to try  And if you've doomed all of you to die and burn, maybe you can at least rip a big hole into the crew. "..How much longer is he gonna have the favor of the common people if he's burning them? If he lashes out without remose and care, use it against them. With fires burning purple, it's not hard to besmirch their name. You have sucked the people dry under threat of violence and torture if they don't pay up. If you lack manpower, offer then alternatives. The crew is torching Felt warehouses. If it's supplies we lack, take theirs. We may be lacking time to prepare, but so do they. It's not too late to gain the upper hand."

Doc Scratch 1:40 PM

You stand and listen as he rattles off his ideas. Theyre not all without merit, but theyre naive, blunt, though its something you've come to expect. How could he possibly have known what he was getting himself, and the rest of the Felt, into. "Hes not burning them, he's burning us. True, it was careless, but Droog wont stay careless. Hes distraught over his daughters death, but he wont stay that way forever. He has as at least as much of a tactical mind as I do, he was built for war." You run a hand over your head, eyes closed in thought, trying not to imagine plumes of purple smoke eating their way through the Felt manor. Purple and green clash too much, it would be hideous. "I have ways of retaking the people, though its not the dregs of society that I'm worried about. All  I need is a shiny coin and a loaf of bread to win their loyalty back. We need to spread out. We need bases of operation throughout the city, safe places that arent glaring green mansions on a hilltop. If the Crew want war, we have to play their game." Yes, this is sounding more like a plan every passing second. You almost get carried away, before remembering where you are. This is no time to get caught up in nostalgia. "You know, it would be much easier planning if we had our trackers back. You and Fin have skills that will be of paramount importance coming very soon. Yet, I hesitate to bring you into the fold. Why should I trust that you can stay your hand? That your loyalty to this organization will trump your lust for revenge? You've proven the exact opposite is the case. Give me a reason why I shouldn't just let you sit down here and rot until the war is over with."

Trace 7:47 PM

Hey, can't blame you for trying, considering your situation. The night in here didn't exactly allow you to do your homework. Neither does it help with the next question. You look at him, tired as you are, trying to muster up the energy to defend yourself. Can't say you're, heh, dying to prove your loyalty to him, but wasting away down here in this cell doesn't seem like a solution either. "I... can't live without this organization. And neither can those that I care about. I know that my actions didn't exactly show it, but I want to do what I can to help it succeed and keep us all safe where possible." You'd like to assure him that your thirst for revenge is well-quenched - and for now it is. But should anything happen to Nepeta and Fin in this war you've apparently summoned, things could get ugly really fast. You won't tell him that. He's probably well aware. You'd like to not have to come to that though. "You gave the reason yourself. We're good at what we can do, and without us, this is gonna be much harder to deal with. Sure, it's a risk for you, but I'd be the one out there, risking my neck. It's my blood they're after. I'm not expecting your trust. I'm sure if you send me out there again, you'll be keeping a close eye on me, until I'll maybe have proven myself someday. Not sure what else I can give you besides my word, and I don't think that's much worth to you right now."

Doc Scratch 1:35 PM

"Hmm, its true enough." You sit back down, leaning back as you think. If you were a lesser man, you might consider handing him over to the crew and suing for peace. That would only be a short term fix, though, and probably cause more problems than itd solve. Not to mention youre loathe to lose one piece of the set. "In truth, Trace, I dont blame you for your actions. Not fully. Droog brought his suffering upon himself. We're just lucky he was good enough to burn all the  evidence." "At the very least you'll be going back to work soon, though as far away from Fin as possible. Perhaps Crowbar can take up the handle of your keeper. I cant have a mad dog running around doling out a childs version of vigilante justice." "For now, though, youll enjoy these accommodations. Im just having your room prepared."

Trace 1:48 PM

You should probably feel relieved at that response, could have gone much worse, after all. But the feeling of anxiety and dread keeps lingering. "I guess that's only fair." You lean back as well, which sends another pain shooting through your arm. A quiet hiss escapes you. Cursed thing. "Before you leave.. with all due respect, not trying to tell you what to do, but I don't think you'd find having me lose my arm or my life to an infection practical..."

Doc Scratch 1:55 PM

You were aleady on your way out when he makes his request. Now you pause, and turn slightly. "Does it hurt? Good. Its supposed to. Someone will be down soon to tend to it. Think on your mistakes, and how you can do better in the future." With that, you take your leave, closing and locking the door behind you.

[inkstainedfanfics]

Dinner for Three

Request: Hi. Could I request an imagine? Newt is dating Reader but doesnt know he is a wizard. One day niffler escapes (or any creature) and Reader goes to see what is happening and she discovers the trunk and she is freaked to the point of passing out.

Word Count: 2,027

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Special thanks to @drdanwrites for helping me realize I was starting this story in the wrong place. Go follow her for awesome writing!

Requested by Anonymous but also tagging @red-roses-and-stories @dont-give-a-bother @caseoffics @myrtus-amongst-the-stars @ly--canthrope @thosefantasticbeast2 @benniesgalaxy @whatinbenaddiction

Your face is red and you’re shifting nervously in your seat as Newt once again glances at the hallway over your shoulder. His eyebrows are furrowed and his mouth is set in a half-frown as he stares at the shadows. The plate of your homemade spaghetti remains virtually untouched in front of him.

“So,” you begin, desperate to start some sort of conversation on this fifth date, “have you decided what you’re going to write about?”

His eyes snap back to you, anger fading into guilt. “Sorry, what?”

You force a smile to your face, acting as though this isn’t absolutely mortifying. He clearly doesn’t want to be here; you’re annoying your own boyfriend. Sure, you’ve only been dating for about a month now, but you’ve come to really care for him. The last thing you want to do is annoy him.

“Have you decided what you’re writing about yet?”

Newt drops your gaze as he lifts his fork. “Not quite. I’m mulling over some ideas still.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, nothing too interesting yet…” he trails off, looking at the hallway behind you again.

“I’m sure they’re fascinating.”

“Possibly.” Newt’s murmur is as distracted as everything else he’s said tonight.

You sigh and scoop up a bite, wondering just what you did to incite the obvious annoyance and anger he has. Does he not like pasta?

He doesn’t notice your despair as he scoots his chair back and sets his napkin on the table. “Excuse me for just one moment.”

“But where…” you begin, trailing off as he strides past you, attention on something else entirely.

He’s gone, leaving you alone with two plates of spaghetti and an empty chair.

You set down your fork, rubbing your forehead as his footsteps disappear into another room. The evening had started out so well. He’d taken your jacket, seemed excited for the dinner you’d brought over, even pulled your chair from the table for you. And the beginning of dinner had been as lovely as every other date with Newt. You’d discussed his recent business trip to Bolivia and hazarded a few more guesses about what he does for a living – accountant, photographer, cartographer – though none of them were correct. He’d even complimented the shirt you’d chosen (an hour’s worth of changing over and over was not wasted) and asked you to elaborate on how you’d learned to cook so well. Then, suddenly, halfway through the story about your mother helping your press garlic, something had changed.

Had it been something you said? Your mind goes into overdrive as you consider everything you’d brought up. You’d mentioned something about Newt’s mother in your story. What if she’s sick? What if she was just in a car crash? What if they can’t stand each other?

You drop your head into your hands, absolutely miserable. God, how can anyone stand dating someone? It’s too stressful, too full of rules and worries.

Something slams behind you, startling your thoughts away. “Newt?” You call out slowly. A sharp rap sounds from the door. “Newt, is everything all right?”

God, what if there’s an intruder he’s fighting? What if he expects you to be calling the police right now instead of sitting at the table. You stand, starting for the telephone but stop yourself as there’s another bang. If he’s fighting an intruder already, there’s really no time to wait for the police. He needs help now.

You make the decision in a split second and don’t let yourself consider any other approach. Snatching a large statue of a dragon from the mantel, you slowly walk to the door. The plates of spaghetti sit there, cold now, but the embarrassment you felt earlier over them is completely forgotten. Your entire focus is on the noises coming from the other room.

A huge crash rattles the door you’re staring at; a cry of pain follows. “Newt!” You cry, rushing forward.

You hesitate at the door for only a second before steeling yourself and pushing it open. It only moves a few inches before slamming against to a halt. Planting your feet and tightening your grip on the statue, you drive your shoulder into it and manage to push it open wide enough to squeeze through.

A wardrobe lies face down on the ground, blocking the door. The ground around it is covered in shattered glass: Once a vase, you assume, by the tulips now lying in a puddle of water. The curtain over the window has been torn in half and hangs by threads, and papers are strewn across the ground. The only thing in the room not overturned or destroyed is a small suitcase sitting open.

“Newt?” You call out tentatively, creeping forward, careful to watch where your feet land.

There’s no response.

You peer around the room, searching for some explanation, but there isn’t one. There’s no place he could have escaped to. The room’s on the third floor, the window’s shut, and the only way into or out of the room is through the door you managed to pry open.

You’re still baffled by his disappearance when you peer into his case. That, unfortunately, only makes this entire situation worse.

A staircase. There’s a staircase in this suitcase. Your hand shakes slightly as you try to reconcile the facts. Newt’s disappearance, the torn-up room, the suitcase with stairs… Oh mercy, what the hell?

“Newt?” You call, voice barely carrying through the room and certainly not making it down the short staircase. “Newt?” You try again as you work up the nerve to crawl down there.

You take a deep breath. Maybe this is just a weird decoration style that you’ve never seen before. Maybe Newt owns the apartment directly below this one and it was just weirdly constructed. You wrack your brain but come up with no better answer. Weird decoration. All right.

Stepping down the staircase, you keep the dragon statue firmly in one hand and up against your chest. At first, you think you’re hearing things, that all this stress has driven you to hallucinating, but with every step down, strange noises grow louder. There’s caws, croaks, tweets, and… roars?

You reach the bottom step, and the room opens up in front of you. You stare, eyes wide, at the place. This is no second floor, no apartment. This can only be described as a habitat.

Stone bites into your hand as you white-knuckle the statue. A long-necked grey … thing … wanders past you, giant eyes fixated on the moon above you. You’re grateful it doesn’t seem to notice you as it roams forward. A pack of birds you vaguely recognize roam past you, pecking at the ground. You nearly drop the statue when you realize they’re dodo birds. Dead creatures, extinct if you learned anything in school.

A shout bursts out in front of you, startling both you and the tiny, grey giraffe.

Newt’s a few yards away, chasing a mole, a branch extended in his hand. He doesn’t notice you as he yells something gibberish. You don’t know what the hell is happening, can’t reconcile it with the man you know. He’s not crazy, doesn’t use made up words or play around with tree branches. He also has never once mentioned having a staircase in the beat-up case he carries around everywhere, never talked about these strange creatures, never let on that he has a whole ecosystem here.

You stop breathing as a flash of green light seems to shoot from the end of the branch in Newt’s hand and streaks through the air. It connects with the mole, and the animal freezes as though its muscles just stopped working. Newt waves the branch again.

You pinch yourself, eyes wide, breathing stopped, as the creature slowly begins to move, jostling side to side first then rising into the air. Every part of you is screaming to run, that this isn’t natural and you need to get away, but your muscles don’t cooperate.

Your vision spiderwebs and disappears just as Newt turns in your direction, mole in his hand.

The world’s dark and black and all you can make out are some muffled sounds. Someone near you is speaking, saying something about Merlin and shocks. Something else caws near your ear, and the sounds grow louder with each passing second.

“There you are.” Newt’s words are muffled as he nods to himself, hand wrapped around your wrist, presumably taking your pulse. “You’re all right.”

You try to sit up as your vision returns, only managing with Newt’s aid as he wraps an arm around your back to support you.

He’s kneeling next to you, sleeves rolled up, branch in his mouth. His lips are curved up in an apologetic smile, and he reaches up to take the branch from his mouth. “Terribly sorry I didn’t mention something earlier.”

You blink, glancing around. The field still surrounds you. Creatures have appeared, poking up over the tall grass or peering at you from a distance. Animals you’ve never seen before slowly creeping forward.

“Where am I?” The question’s shaky, because of your recent fainting spell or because of the discomfort coursing through your veins, you’re not quite certain.

“My…” Newt pauses, appearing to be searching for the right word, “workplace.”

“But how? And why,” You jerk your chin at his wand. “are you carrying a branch?”

Newt attempts to suppress a grin. “It’s not a branch.”

Your head spins. “Where’d the green light come from?”

He opens and closes his mouth twice before dropping his head. “I think I have a lot to explain. Perhaps we should go upstairs and I can explain everything over dinner?”

You can’t tear your eyes away from the grey giraffe in front of you as you nod. Its adorable, blinking at you with those huge eyes. “What’s that?”

“A mooncalf.”

“Is it dangerous?”

Newt laughs. “Only if you’re a handful of grain.”

“May I pet it?” Your cheeks are flaming as you look up at Newt. The question seems so juvenile, but the creature’s too adorable as you watches you.

“You’d like to?”

“If he won’t hurt me.”

Newt’s grin softens as he looks at you.

“So, can I?” You question again.

“Of course. Would you like to feed him?”

The creature brightens at the word, letting out a soft caw that has your heart swelling. “I’d love to.”

Newt helps you to your feet, leading you through the area. “I suppose I don’t have to hide what I’m writing about now.”

“You’re writing about this? All of it?”

He chuckles. “All of it.”

“That’s… wow.”

He raises an eyebrow in response, but nods down at the statue you’d forgotten you’d brought down. “May I ask why you had my statue of a Hungarian Horntail?”

Your cheeks burn. “I, um, thought you needed help.”

“With what?”

“I, um, I thought maybe you were being attacked.”

Newt grins at the words. “And you were planning on fighting with that?”

“It was the first thing I saw. You were the one dropping everything in there. It sounded like you were being murdered.”

“Well,” he says between laughs, “thank you for your worry. I do appreciate your attempt to save my life even if it was misguided.”

You roll your eyes at his teasing, but he tugs you against his chest and you can’t help smiling. The rest of the night goes well. You learn about spells and creatures and a whole dimension of the world you wish you’d known your whole life. Newt lets you feed the creatures and shows you the bowtruckle’s trees. He walks you through the fields and, when the moon is at its height, kisses you quickly.

Both of your cheeks are red as you head back to the apartment.

The plates of spaghetti are still there, cold, a waste, but Newt warms them up quickly and you eat before finally grabbing your jacket and walking out the front door.

Later that week, a parcel arrives at your house. When you open it, a warm feeling floods your veins. Inside is a dragon statue and a note: Next Wednesday, thunderbird lessons. Newt.

[ioistan]

happy birthday bubba!!!

it’s phoenix aka pho aka bubba aka @kangspeach birthday so here’s a list of some running jokes/memories between us and a heartfelt message at the end because i protec but i also attac

anyways u should probs only read if ur pho because i’m not trigger tagging this post but it’ll be under a read more

no one handles can handle

id ride his dick into the sunset

the roast pig is p hood

ivonique

good lucky buddy

dead god

sHUR THE HECK UP

hot topic is love hot topic is life

the only major ones i temember is christams

trig can go burb

omg thats so cure

kwedn of urls

imma right u

hopefully theres some good stuff at ur th maxx

what is wrong w me todat

idk a hoya i only know a daniel

what is going on here on this here day yoy binch

a hand fetish? in my good christian neighborhood?

sehun could fuck me ear if he asked 

6/18/17 kylee and winnie meet

i found ya you little slut

#giveroserecognition2kforevef

the minion kink

a feast of minick (minion dick) and minussy (minion pussy)

“would u give him the minussy” “okay”

there so go

whatever the fuck our first conversation was

all i remember is designer eye bags, dan, and toxic hellscapes

free the tiddy

chug the windex to cue urself of all ailments

support the winnie cause

“man i hope winnies dad chokes on air-obamas departure speech 2k17″

yes because im capable of taking five dicks at a time

ride the thigh into the sunset

when he hitting it from behind and he growl babdook

the babadook fanclub

dangerous noodle duo

ur the noddle curlier than all the other noodles

can i get a uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh bronut and a shot of dude milk?

no homo broski

luhans arms

the koreeb phase

furries #neverforgeturfursona

ur deviantart died with a furry icon

nonbinary queen #1 and #2

shut the heck ur mouth

were u commented rawr x3 on my gfs pix??

so what if i was huh

fite meh !1!!1!1!!1 “pulls out flowing green radioactive scythe

come at me!!1!1!1!1!!1 *pulls out purple cat shaped shuriken*

sdudenly i cnanto rdea–

baby eater

xXxEdGeLoRdXxX

edgy emo pornstars

the furry sc adventures

im crying they rlly memed iy

“BITHC U DONT NEED SCREENSHOTS ANYTIME ANYDAY ID RIDE THAT MAN INTO THE SUNSET” i dont even know who this was about send help

S

H

U

R

T******

U

P

D A R K T I D D I E S S H O W M E T H E B R O K E N L A W S O F P H Y S I C S

MY ULT BIAS LUHANNIR

ur magcon phase

ur one direction phase

the holy emo trinity

tao and wendy are sex gods apparently

emo furry phase

ur deviantart icon was a scene furry

im gonna fucking did

omg ur 5sos phase

u admitted ud be jealous of vivi if sehun gave them more attention than u

#getonurknees4yixing2k16

ridr

the monsta x bias bet that we gave up on like 2 months into

wjohnny

phtaphon

wjtaphon

june 2016 when i asked u for chinese food and u said no and im bring this up to my deathbed and beyond

forever grude

drudge

grudge

FUCK

EARLESS PHO

JUST LIKE THE ANIME CHARACTERS I DREW

NO EARS

u drew charas w ears wdym!!!

FURRIES

F U R R I E S W E A R S

“id set u on fire if u sent me a used cactus” “guess u should set me on firr”

“ur mans a furry just like u. furry^2″ “leave us ALONE”

the anon hate

“U SNET THAT 2 ME, UNDER MY ROOF, THE DAY OF MY DAUGHTERS WEDDING, SHAT ALL OVER MY GARLIC BREAD,”

the tongue emoji debate

“ur tongue is too pink “at least our tongue doesnt look like it caught the bubonic plague”

“hoya who? i only need cheesy garlic bread to make me sq***t”

baboon > bab

thigh riding team competition?? what the fuck were we on my dude

nutted so hard my nuts flew off

situp competition with ur ex

#keepurcoochiessafe2k16

kink s a m e

3d design guy that ended up being a closet ussr lover

lamao

lmoa

gonna best u up

dont let the selfies glop, uh dont let the selfies glop UH

hand sink mayhaps

ho(rt)

“also five years ull be a loaf of bread how do u feel” “i hope chanyeol eats me”

ur shinee bias? ot5

hoeror

gOROR

HOROR

the xiumin bias dilemma

mystic messenger craze 

“who at the top of ur hit list” “u”

midnight cinderella screenshot

the phos reciepts folder on my phone

my memes folder has more potential then my future

“no nothing u cried after stepping on ur stuffed animal??? that’s so innocent. how r u so pure and nasty at the same time”

xfivesvcondsofhorrorx

“gomen ne! gomen’nasai!! i haven’t been posting recently but-”

makoto tachibana and haruka nanase have returned to their well-deserved places in my heart and i’m sure they’re not leaving anymore”

ONE TRUE PAIRING U BAKA

the furry commission

the booty poem that some1 commissioned u to write

elephants with hair debate’our failed snapchat streaks

anyways i hope u got a good laugh out of that because i know i certainly did because some of the shit we sent each other was wild

anyways where do i even begin!! happy birthday to my bubba, my babdook fanclub vice president, my nonbinary queen #1, my ride or die, ½ of my dangerous noodle duo!!!! it’s been a long 2?? years together and i hope we spend even more than that!! you’ve been there for me thru thick and thin, through the ups and downs, through my oanic attacks and dilemmas, and im glad we’ve stuck through!!! you’ve made so many jokes with me, hell it’s so nice that you’re someone i can talk to about anything no matter how strange, nasty, or borderline uncomfortable and not be judged for it!! i love the fact that when i’m at a low and i don’t feel like talking u don’t complain about me avoiding a conversation and we just go right back to it!! ur the strongest, kindest, most hardworking and dedicated individual i’ve met and thru the odds you’ve always come out better and better, and i love my typo queen. i hope being 145 is a year that treats u well, after all u aren’t half way to thirty forever, only 6 months actually ;P my fave fetus and my fave shorty, i’m glad we’ve been able to grow together. from 13 to grandmas, remember? also hey if we’re both single at 45 we should just get married and adopt a bunch of pets because i’m so down for that. i love having a non judgemental, open minded friend that i can talk about anything with, that entertains my 3am thoughts and listens to me fangirl despite the fact that some of our fandoms dont even interlap anymore. ur the kindest, sweetest, funniest, and most photogenic person i’ve ever met, and i’m glad i can meme it to death with you!!!! happy birthday pho, and never forget: there so go!

[beatconductor-blog]

Today at 12:35 AM

beatconductor hey uh can i ask you a question

deadramchild yes y0u can

beatconductor oh hey hope im not distracting you from anything or whatever anyway does your dad hate me

deadramchild y0u are n0t

beatconductor or is he always like that or i just dont know how to deal with him like

deadramchild i d0nt think he d0es n0

beatconductor mr deuce and boxcars are pretty chill to be around i mean i have no doubt that they could wreck shit but theyre just yanno kinda buddy like

deadramchild well they are certainly easier t0 get al0ng with yes why exactly d0 y0u think he hates y0u?

beatconductor and then theres mr stabby stab slick whos a little inpredictable like he seems like the kinda guy that might stab you for saying the wrong word or just shrug it off depending on the mood but idk your dad is kind of something else no offense he just gives me the chills

deadramchild haha he d0es have that effect 0n pe0ple y0u are right ab0ut slick t00

beatconductor so is that not just me

deadramchild n0

beatconductor i mean its rare that my fear is stronger than my stupidity but just fuck dont tell him i told you that alright

deadramchild but im curi0us did he d0 s0methig that made y0u think he hates y0u?

beatconductor uh doesnt matter its more all the stuff he doesnt say

deadramchild yes it d0es l00k... he is n0t g0ing t0 actually hurt y0u he d0esnt hate y0u and he has n0 reas0n t0

beatconductor if you say so

deadramchild he kn0ws that y0u are 0n friendly terms with with deuce and b0xcars and friends with me and the 0thers he w0uldnt hurt y0u with0ut a damn g00d reas0n n0t physically that is but i cant deny that he is a danger0us man 0bvi0usly he is

beatconductor not physically

deadramchild he likes t0 play games

beatconductor you might think thats kind of reassuring but thats like the opposite of that id deal with a direct open threat on my life better than this

deadramchild 0h i kn0w that

beatconductor like shit man the about of times karkat told me hed stab me and i know he would

deadramchild but i want t0 be h0nest with y0u

beatconductor and were still bros ah damn it

deadramchild well let me try t0 explain a little better he enj0ys hmm... teasing pe0ple? he likes t0 get a reacti0n 0ut 0f y0u and at the same time he is testing y0u hes perfectly aware that y0u have relati0ns t0 the felt t00

beatconductor aw man of course he does i mean

deadramchild and while he d0esnt 0utright distrust y0u just f0r that (i mean his b0yfriends br0ther is a number) it still takes m0re t0 gain his n0t quite trust

beatconductor well im not expecting him to ever trust me just

deadramchild he d0esnt fully trust a l0t 0f pe0ple th0ugh

beatconductor yeah thats what i need in my life even more mind games

deadramchild im s0rry 0n0

beatconductor eh whatever

deadramchild i really am

beatconductor its not your fault dont apologize

deadramchild i d0nt want t0 sugarc0at things th0ugh

beatconductor so what should i just give him the reaction he wants or play it all stoic and aloof

deadramchild im n0t sure what reacti0n he wants?

beatconductor alright i can work with that

deadramchild i think any reacti0n that isnt betraying us in any way is a right 0ne is this ab0ut uhm what happened the 0ther night? what he said ab0ut y0ur little kitty friend?

beatconductor urgh yeah thats definitely the most recent and glaring one

deadramchild well that0ne was really just a win/win situati0n f0r him... he likes teasing her

beatconductor oh great

deadramchild and he kn0ws perfectly well that y0u tw0 are an item s0 it was the perfect 0ppurtunity f0r him t0 test y0ur l0yality

beatconductor i see well at least i didnt completely fuck that one up huh

deadramchild n0 the situati0n is c0mplicated the situati0n with her i mean i guess y0u sh0uld really ask her if y0u want any uhm details 0n what happened im n0t sure if he wants y0u t0 j0in us p0ssibly y0u are useful and we always need m0re pe0ple but regardless i think this is his way 0f tryin t0 sh0w y0u what happens when y0u ch00se the felt 0ver us n0w he may be my father but i cant actually read his mind s0 keep in mind that im 0nly guessing here t00

beatconductor wow ok message received i am now kinda let this get too much to me caught me off guard i guess

deadramchild i d0nt think s0mething like that can n0t get t0 y0u i kind 0f want t0 ap0l0gize f0r n0t being ar0und t0 help y0u but thats s0rt 0f silly isnt it? and we b0th kn0w y0u w0uldnt have accepted any help i c0uld have 0ffered anyways

beatconductor dunno considering who i work with i should know better

deadramchild mind y0u im n0t saying that t0 shame y0u its just a fact

beatconductor what oh yeah dont worry i mean there were people i just didnt want to hear any of that idk next time maybe

deadramchild i mean i kn0w y0ure a big b0y y0u can have y0ur mental breakd0wns all 0n y0ur 0wn i still wish i c0uld have helped but y0ure 0kay s0 thats all that matters i guess

beatconductor hah yeah thanks how do i politely tell everyone else that ive been doing this long enough to know me

deadramchild i d0nt kn0w "hell0 ive been a huge mess f0r 25 years n0w i kn0w the drill but thanks f0r caring"?

beatconductor damn thats spot on

deadramchild "s0rry i am currently n0t em0ti0nally capable t0 deal with y0u w0rrying 0n t0p 0f this leave a message after the beep?

beatconductor hah i mean basically thats it alright

deadramchild im sure they will understand 0r at least try t0 they cant help w0rrying th0ugh i w0uld be lying if i said im n0t w0rried but i trust y0u en0ugh that y0u will at least keep y0ur stupid ass alive and c0me t0 me when y0u are ready at least i h0pe s0 i mean y0u s0rt 0f did

beatconductor yeah idk considering im still alive after all maybe im secretly immortal or some shit

deadramchild id rather n0t have y0u test that the0ry y0u d0nt want me t0 yell at y0ur gh0st d0 y0u?

beatconductor im usually trying not to you know dying and being stuck as ghost is kinda the worst i can imagine but the thought of you yelling at my ghost butt kinda sweetens that but you can do that while im still alive so

deadramchild i didnt even yell at y0u s0 far ...n0 wait i did after y0u sh0wed me anime being stuck as a gh0st sure d0es s0und unpleasant i h0pe the actual afterlife is nice th0ugh

beatconductor no afterlife would be nicer i know some poor sap stuck all alone in some kinda eternal limbo i mean shit that sucks doesnt even have any demons and satans to torture him for his sins or something just his nest and my idiot ass dunno if its like that for everyone that ever dies i sure hope not

deadramchild maybe y0u are the dem0n t0rturing him that s0unds really weird are y0u sure y0u didnt just dream that

beatconductor oh yeah thank you well dunno id think so too but that means im kinda hallucinating chatting to him all day too and thats getting kinda awkward

deadramchild very awkward...

beatconductor so yyeah

deadramchild well i guess i cant judge

beatconductor im pretty sure hes real i hope so

deadramchild even if he is imaginary

beatconductor dont make me doubt myself here ok

deadramchild well it t00k a while t0 realize that im actually hearing the dead instead just being well insane

beatconductor well see i got over that phase much quicker

deadramchild thats g00d have fun with y0ur dead friend

beatconductor yeah thanks im trying he seems more pleasant than your average visitor i mean usually its me whos haunting him

deadramchild hes n0t just a v0ice either i assume s0 that already makes him better c0mpany

beatconductor yeah probably

deadramchild s0unds like y0u ike y0ur dead friend thats g00d

beatconductor yeah i mean dreams with him are pretty alright

deadramchild thats g00d perhaps y0u sh0uld sleep s0me m0re then

beatconductor you know im trying man i wish i could bug the hell out of my friends every night

deadramchild haha maybe y0u can dream visit me t00? y0u sh0uld try m0stly because im heading t0 bed n0w try t0 sleep s0me dave g00d night

beatconductor do you really want that believe me you dont want me on your sleep too im enough of a menace when awake but if i ever find out how to you can bet your ass im gonna haunt your dreams

[anomalagous]

lc’s ongoing long-ass list of what the fuck, teen wolf, and other sundry E606:Ghosted edition.

scott getting a little tiny bit snarly at the sheriff for not believing~~ in stiles gives me life

this old-ass map not only puts beacon hills on top of a real life place called scotty place which still makes me laugh, but also substantially more north and eastward than i originally estimated.

why the fuck didnt naziwolf just get the fuck outta bh?

why did he choose to stay and teach high school of all things?

california requires an 18 month accreditation course and a certain GPA of teachers who do not have an education degree, i know this from direct experience. its been three months since naziwolf busted out of his bacta tank, so what the fuck

if he forged his credentials, how

when

when did he actually learn all of the post WW2 physics and electromagnetics things he clearly genuinely knows and has a genuine interest in?

did the dread doctors read him bedtime stories from their science journals?

if so, what the fuck

i guess if youre an alpha werewolf you can sleep in the backseat with no seatbelt and its not a big deal if you crash

good job on malia being the driver and not crashing them im proud of her

reading the date of the canaan abduction in the standard american way it was april 8th, 1987, which cant be a coincidence given that’s stiles birthday (albeit pre-stiles)

if canaan has been abandoned for 30 years, who has been cutting these obviously not overgrown lawns and trimming these obviously not overgrown accent shubberies

why isnt that flag beat up or torn in any way?

kudos on giving that convertible the old 80s style california plates but why arent any of the windows on any of the cars busted out? no flat tires? no rust or missing doors?

also that shot of the ‘town’ where there was more substantial damage looked fake as hell and the crosswalk was proceeding at the wrong angle and i cant unsee it.

why is there still power running to these street lamps?

for that matter who has their street lamps scheduled to turn on in the middle of the day?

was that block party banner over the street lettered on both sides? it reads properly no matter what side youre looking at, which seems weird.

why is there blood on the carousel? was that explained? we’ve never seen the ghost riders’ gun draw blood that i can recall

im not even sure we’ve really seen their whips draw blood per se and certainly it wouldn’t have caused that kind of blood stain

also why is the blood still wet and red 30 years later? why wasn’t that newspaper rotted out? either time impacted this town to make it shitty as hell or it didn’t, pick one, you cannot have both. it still rains enough in california to totally disintegrate a newspaper in thirty years.

how the fuck did that carousel function even that tiny bit after 30 years in the elements?

why did melissa have to sneak chris argent around, couldnt he have just declined the operation against medical advice?

also good to see scott got his utter inability to lie from his mom

even if malia isnt wearing 100% stiles’ void-hoodie how could the costume department have thought for a minute we wouldnt have thought that was the void hoodie?

malia having a hallucination of theo in the same episode he comes back in for real seemed both rushed and entirely unnecessary.

in fact these hallucinations seemed wholesale unnecessary and neither scott nor malia deserved that nonsense

were all of these dead leaves already on location or did some poor asshole have to ship them in and then ship them out again

come to think of it, at first i was really excited to see coral/eucalyptus trees as they are actually trees that are in california (as opposed to the type of oak the nemeton is, which is distinctly Not a type of tree in california) but then i realized those are Southern California Trees and if beacon hills (and canaan) are that far north and close to the oregon border, the trees should be way more pines and evergreens and not coral or eucalyptus or ... any deserty tree, really.

seriously were these hallucinations just to show malia can feel sad too?

malia was wearing really subtle gold eyeshadow earlier. now it’s dark shadowing up to her browbone. does being a werecoyote also mean being able to shift your makeup at will? cause thats cool

do little girls seriously still play with baby dolls while hitting their first strides of puberty? im beginning to think i was never actually a little girl.

how much younger than malia was kylie supposed to be? bc she looks like 12 here but malia was like... 10 when the desert wolf murdered her family, right? was SHE the younger sister??

teen wolf shamelessly reusing shots with new filters on them like never before. this ain’t even the fifth time i’ve caught them doing this, this season, and i’ve literally never seen them do it in any of the other seasons.

im not sure anybody told kylie’s actress she wasnt gonna get to make out with shelley

how do werecreatures get piercings? or were her ears pierced first before the change?

why does anyone let liam make any decisions, ever?

i do not get why everyone finds naziwolf so hot

seriously i have a little tree-bush exactly like this right outside my door/garage and that shit is wild and untamed in just a month of no trimming in 30 years it would not have that nice slender shape anymore

also trees being choked to death by kudzu or whatever all these vines are dont look that healthy

is there even kudzu in california??? ive never seen so many vines in all my 10 years of living here.

the first house scott goes in theres like no tv in the living room but there is one chair (with no dining table) all alone in the dining room area, which just looks sad.

oh sorry two chairs set up in what was clearly the worlds most melancholy staring contest.

my dentist used to have that exact sailboat wallpaper trim around the top of his exam rooms.

scotts bullying a door.

have melissa and chris argent actually told the pack about the head-biting yet bc i feel like they should know

i think more people have asked scott if he’s okay in this episode than in the last three seasons, which is sad bc it’s basically just lydia and malia that do it.

that one house has some brutal earthquake damage in its exterior wall.

poseys microexpressions are so woefully underrated, he really is brilliant.

i have more grey hair than jr bourne and that makes me really angry

i like that they’re doing alchemy with druidic compounds/hedgemagic/whatever you want to call it more than i could possibly express.

why is there a porch loveseat on the step up to this one house but that FLAG IS ENTIRELY INTACT?

how convenient that all three of them were looking at that window when lenore decided to fuck with the drapery.

that said scott’s resultant HOLY SHIT?!?? face is amazing

how has lenore been surviving in this town, does she not need water, electric, heat, groceries? where did the lemons for the lemonade come from?

all this wood paneling is the most 70s thing i have ever seen in my life

i appreciate the little cast iron redwood decoration with the ‘m’ on the bottom of it.

everything!! in!! this!! house!! is!! brown!!

that piano as a busted af bass key there.

i feel like i’ve seen that other metal flower/leaf decor before. the new version of the stilinski house, maybe?

lenore has an intimidatingly large smile and i feel like that as an intentional casting choice

how come malia and scott couldnt hear her heartbeat after scott explicitly called out that there were no heartbeats? or for that matter not hear that caleb also didn’t have one? (presumably.)

im not 100% sure but i think malia is holding scott’s hand when they enter the dining room area of lenore’s house, which is adorable so i accept no other reality now.

i honestly feel really bad for lenore.

i would say the fisheye lens is s6′s slo mo but the slo mo didnt go anywhere

i dont know if its supposed to be fancy or artisinal or whatever you called that in the 80s but dont put green shit in your lemonade, green shit does not belong in your lemonade. lemons. sugar. water. it isn’t hard.

malia like chugs a good half of her glass at once, but when she sets it back down it is more full than any of the other glasses. i prefer to think she just faked drinking it to try and gain lenore’s trust than it’s a continuity error from the props department.

when lenore starts using her banshee powers to shake the house, it also magically converts the lemonade into water.

lenore has a pair of decorative ducks on her wall but they appear to be two male mallard ducks, so. gay duck decor.

so when does lydia get to have telekinesis?

i dont think im a very big fan of how angela harvey handles scott.

malia did NOT make a fist like she was really committing to trying to punch out that window.

seriously scotts the alpha he doesnt need lydia to give him permission to do things scott thinks need to be done

that being said scott going into the basement with a creepy kid when youre obviously in some kind of horror movie trope was stupid

the cameras they used for the senior pack team were super blurry anytime anyone moved even the littlest bit, its so annoying.

scott barely being tall enough to reach this tiny-ass basement window is endearing to me

there is no way a vhs tape that wet would run. i remember vhs tapes. they were not sturdy.

i feel like we used to have the same VCR in my parents’ room tho

also what the hell camcorder did they record this on that put it straight on VCR, camcorders in the 80s had weird little small VCR tapes you had to put in a converter. that was just a standard VCR tape.

also why are there jumpcuts in the home video? did somebody cut the original footage and THEN put it on a standard VCR tape?  how much fucking work was THAT??

caleb goes from 0 to 100 on the creepy poltergeist scale real quick

well okay maybe from like 40 to 100

banshee duel yessssss

literally why would noshiko do this after she saw what happened with the nogitsune

not that i necessarily think theo is as dangerous as the nogitsune but he is well bad enough

look at this worthless white boy doing this shit against all the advice of the woc around him

why does the sword do this, i thought the power was in kira and not the sword

if the power is in the sword why couldnt noshiko fix her own damn blade

look at this other worthless white boy even more worthless than the first

that looks like melissa is putting like grout on chris’ injury that does not look comfortable

oh look hes screaming imma guess it was not in fact comfortable

gratuitous jr bourne fanservice

awwww theyre holding haaaaands again

how did this kid get on the stairs the last time we saw him he was by the tv, why did scott and malia let him herd him like this

i appreciate malia’s willingness to beat up a kid poltergeist immensely

of the pictures on caleb’s walls, many are pictures of insects. one is a blue crab. one says ‘guten’ on it, which somehow entertains me a lot.

this is the second time this episode has tried to make me scared of carousel horses

the vhs footage loops while no one is attending to it which is not how vhs tapes work

malia is such a treasure

that being said having nearly drowned twice in my childhood this whole drowning-on-dry-land conceit is not super great for me

screencapping this is so gross

i love lydia’s fierce banshee scream face

so the blood was on the carousel before the wild hunt attack, as we see in lydia’s vision. SO WHY IS IT THERE??

THERE ARE KIDS RIDING ON THIS CAROUSEL WHILE SOME OF THE HORSES ARE BLOODY

poor skateboard bro couldnt even take his skateboard like rude wild hunt

i feel like there’s a lot more ghost riders here than there are in beacon hills. maybe the ghost riders just come for particular towns and the ones in bh are actually like... cora isaac and danny.

its amazing how much younger a good foundation can maybe somebody look

did liam SERIOUSLY just tell theo he can kill whoever he wants? did i hear that right? bc that is a TERRIBLE thing to tell theo, who has ALREADY KILLED A LOT OF PEOPLE, even if what you meant was ‘dont kill us you need us’.

i cant believe we got this cheap knockoff as an excuse to not have kira and then they didnt even let him have the powers he needed to do the job

otoh watching his ass get blasted back into the tunnels was satisfying

literally nobody cares if youre okay theo you murderous fuck

i wonder how many times scott had someone steadying him telling HIM he has to breathe like hes doing for malia right here

i should really keep a tally of how many times scott does stiles’ lizard tongue thing while stiles is gone

this is gross of me to think while the character is basically drowning but hey now i know what scott looks like with his bottom lip all wet and covered in somewhat translucent stretchy goo--jizz. okay. it looks like jizz.

scott mccall nearly drowns on dry land after a lifetime of severe asthma and the first thing he does after is ask if malia is ok

luckily THIS time she asks if HES okay to but jeez

he looks so shocked and confused to be asked extra jeez

more scolia handholding, this time while fleeing danger

i was literally three in 1987 and i still have more grey hair than lenore who was demonstrably an adult in 1987 I AM VERY ANGRY

that being said i realized why caleb here’s clothing was bothering me so much. nobody had shorts that long in the 80s. everybody wore short as hell shorts in the 80s. it was thighs everywhere.

these stupid motherfuckers taking theo to scott’s HOME and putting him in scott’s SAFE SPACE without even WARNING HIM oh my GOD

those better not also be scott’s CLOTHES

ok but WHY are the wild hunt trapped? did they BRING the northern lights or is the northern lights related to what’s trapping them?

excuse me but WHEN did lydia see anything related to what happens to people after the wild hunt takes them and why didnt we get to see it too?

seriously its like if scott is thinking of stiles then lizard blep

im so mad at liam for bringing theo back and putting him in scotts house i cant even see straight

and i just know that this anger that scott is being allowed will be it

and in a week or two itll be working with theo like nothing ever happened

im honestly shocked he even got this much

he even got undercut there by malias (also justified) rage

cool that the morrigan got a namedrop but i dont trust them with that story eitherrrrr

man let me tell you if this was martin and not scott and somehow he had been murdered and resurrected and was then confronted with his murderer in his pack house that murderer would not fucking leave alive

im still kind of mad that this season brought claudia back to life just to make her so sketch and make me kind of hate her, i didnt want to hate her

oh okay its a different weird leaf decor piece than the other one

oh yeah noah OKAY NOW youre starting to believe BUDDY you have faith issues

[cosmicchronicles]

I need to make a call.

Once back to Remiel's house, Kephales steps aside while the rest clean up or head to the kitchen for dinner.

He dials into his pad and puts a small pod to his near invisible earhole.

The phone rings at the precinct in a suburb on Akiton, Keph's old workplace. It rings longer than usual, things are in disarray, but he expected that.

Finally a voice picks up.

"Olanti?"

"Stolle, yeah, is the chief there?"

"Well sure, but... man we're kinda swamped down here. No chance you can spare a moment, huh? Nah, I expect you've got big bad Steward stuff to do." A sense of relief and familiarity seemed to wash over the officers tone.

"Stolle, theres nothing I'd rather do than be there to help Akiton, you know that," the detective lied, "But... I'm actually calling to ask for *your* help."

"Mine??"

"No, the precinct. Can I talk to the chief?"

Stolle, a medium sized ysoki with a beat in the southern part of their suburb where the border abutted the the norther part of the city proper, was a good cop, honest, one of the few, but not the brightest bulb. It worked in his favor most of the time, because he wasnt the type to scheme for bigger busts or sneak away with confiscated goods or play the politicking game with local lawmakers. He was just a Good Guy.

"Sure, Olanti, just gimme a sec."

Keph could hear the noise on the other end. They had to be stretched thin filling in for branches that got hit. But it didnt take long. Soon enough, the tired raspy voice of the chief who clearly hadnt slept in a week greeted him. Ruk had not slept in a week, and if she was being honest, she didn't intend to sleep for another two at least. Undead armies prowled the cities of Akiton, an invading force that seemed both willing and able to pour as many bodies at a problem as necessary to solve it with no mind to how many were lost. Mostly, the precinct had been working at keeping civilians safe and providing what little protection they could. Half the force hadn't shown up to work since the attack, and she didn't know if it was because they were dead, trapped, or simply felt they had more important things to do than attempt to keep peace in the middle of a war.

Still, it was not every day Keph called in, and considering what he'd given-- and lost-- on her watch, well, she wasn't going to not take the call.

"Keph?" She winced at how hoarse her voice sounded; she'd always been gruff, but the complete lack of sleep combined with the smoke weren't doing her any favors.

"Chief, I know this isn't a good time, but I got a big favor to ask you.." he knew it was a bad time, and he knew it wasnt fair; that's the part that bothered him the most. What rivaled that in guikt was the knowledge that there was a selfish aspect to his impending request, and that is to alleviate potential inefficiencies in Fisk's work by removing the distraction of his missing brother. It was mutually beneficial to everyone except the officers at the precinct...and well...anyone who doesnt receive help because bodies have been diverted to a personal request.

Still, what was the point of working for clout and reputation if you never called it in? All of these moral and ethical quandaries circled through Keph's mind in the few beating seconds that passed after his last words.

He leaned against a wall as much as one could when their head protruded so much further than their back.

"A colleague of mine in the field... his brother's not checked in since Akiton went dark. I know what that means, I'm pretty sure he does too, so I'm not calling asking for miracles... but if you could dedicate a few guys to finding him... either way it turns up... it might help his focus. The guy is named Fisk, his missing brother is Twib. The rest of his family is accounted for, I'm sure they can provide you with photos and such...."

He felt worse and worse, but knew he had to try.

"Can you... do that for me?"

The sigh that came over the line was the definition of weary. Ruk knew she didn't have the time or manpower to devote to such a request, but at the same time, she wasn't going to refuse Keph and it was likely he knew that.

"Last known location? Part of a warren? Names of family members I could contact who remain on Akiton? Any other pertinent information?" The ysoki sounded as exhausted as she felt, and the idea of diverting two men to try and find a missing boy in the midst of everything else that was happening certainly didn't help matters. How much more paperwork was going to be needed to get this overlooked by superiors? She could probably finagle a good reason, if she worked hard enough. And if she only diverted one person instead of two and then put herself on the case... Her mind swirled with possibilities, but she needed more information before she could reasonably begin.

"He's from a warren in the Kephak Depot area. I know it's not particularly convenient. I'll forward you details when I...." he broke off, something occurring to him or perhaps the privacy of the call threatened or more likely it was just a hard ask, "I didn't want to tell him I was making this call. I'd prefer this stay between us. Let me see what I can dig up on him and his brother. If I get that information, you'll put someone on it though?"

It felt like he was making a deal. Maybe he was. Shit, Ruk deserved better, but what's done is done.

"Understood, Olanti," she said, coughing slightly. The switch to his last name indicated she was treating this as business. "Send me whatever you can get, but I'll get someone on it now. Kephak Depot? We can spare... We can spare someone, I think. I'll do it myself if I have to."

Unseen by Keph, the older ysoki was shaking her head, one paw pressed to her temples in an attempt at dismissing the headache that was building behind her eyes.

There was a considerable pause. When it came to Keph, he usually already had his next statements pre-planned, but in this case, he was clearly debating how to reply. These were unprecedented times and he knew that.

"Can I do anything for you..?" he tried.

"Not unless you're planning to run the blockade around Akiton just to turn up for the next beat shift," Ruk huffed, "I've lost have the precinct in the last week, we're understaffed as hell and the ones who are still showing up, well. I don't know how much longer they'll be useful. Keph, they've got undead bodies on every corner and--"

There was a choking noise, something akin to holding back tears.

"They're reanimating fallen corpses. I saw Kort two days ago, a hole straight through his chest, wandering the streets." Kort was one of the precinct's "muscles", a massive red-skinned Hylki with few words and an eye for trouble. He'd been Ruk's right hand man, a regular presence at the station and a neighborhood favorite. The mental image of him dead and still walking was no small part of why Ruk wasn't even trying to sleep anymore.

Keph's secondary arms twitched angrily, the equivalent of a clenched jaw and deeply furrowed brow.

"I didn't realize," he said, "I knew Eoxians *could* raise the dead. I didn't realize they were using it as an offensive strategy." He recalled the times he'd checked the news since Akiton fell. It seemed that Pact news was keeping this detail minimized if not hushed all together. It wouldn't matter for long as communications reopen. Everyone will know.

And that meant panic.

"It's effective psychologically as well, isn't it? It's working on you," he took a breath through a number of invisible spiracles, "Ruk, you need to sleep. I know it's hard, but you *will* feel better with a fresh head. This is a long game, and the sooner we start playing, the sooner we stop losing. I promise nothing will happen in the next 6 hours that won't be better dealt with after you've had some rest."

There it is, the guilt. He felt terrible for asking anything. The memory of the day after losing Pad played through his head like a highlight reel of nightmares. It felt like any small favor, even an inquiry, was going to make him snap.

"God, I sound like you," he admitted, knowing he did a pretty poor job of following instructions when the roles were reversed. That was all before the Stewards and The Job.

That garnered a chuckle, barely audible over the line.

"You're not wrong, on either count. I'll... try. To get some rest." Ruk sighed. She knew this had to be dredging up uncomfortable memories for Keph and she hated to put him through that. Guilt plagued her, the knowledge that she was, in part, responsible for the loss of his partner. Hell, she'd partnered them up to begin with, so long ago. She wondered if the contemplative knew her willingness to acquiesce to his personal favor requests was rooted in a pit of shame and self-hatred that she hadn't felt for the loss of any of the other men or women on her squad

"Thanks, Chief. I'll be in touch soon." He reached out a little and felt the humming minds of his nearby colleagues. These little lights were beginning to feel familiar to him and that was a comfort in the end.

"Keph? Stay safe, okay?" It was a request, but it had the tone of an order, the tone she'd use when he worked for her. "I'll keep an eye on my pad for any communiques from you."

The reply would have been a detached acknowledging smile, but from the Chief's side, it was just silence. Now he just had to get through dinner and he could finally be alone.

Alone.

He didnt want to be alone, no Contemplatives did, and for the first time in years, he wasnt. Ever since hed made the decision to bond with the group, there was this static in his mind reminding him of their presence. There is no alone like this, and that's the way it's supposed to be.

Everyone seemed to be adjusting well enough except....*right. Jeredith.*

He did feel a little bad for snapping at him, though the feeling still felt oddly justified. It occurred to him he ought to ask someone else, just to verify he wasbt the only one who thought the mysterious shapeshifter was a little *too* private.

After all, they're supposed to be a team.

He left the wall and floated over to the table, taking a seat across from Taroyn.

((Compilation of a text-based RP))