#good night everyone.... one more day before spring break and its just to go to one class... very epic...

[xxplastic-cubexx]

wild things happening on my team tonight

[strangersteddierthings]

No Regrets - Part One

Content Warning: mentions of main character deaths but these are temporary because this is a time travel two-to-four-shot and so, they start dead but then get better :3 Also maybe a whiplash warning? In that it starts off kind of dark for a story that's pretty light-hearted in the end.

Here's the first part of the threatened season 4 AU time travel fic where Steve gets thrown back to the moment in family video when Dustin and Max show up demanding the phones. Previously he was 5 years into a grueling apocalypse.

Part One🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six

Steve has lived his life in regret. Replaying scenarios in his head over and over late at night when sleep eludes him. And sleep is always eluding him these days, weeks, past five years. Steve hasn't known a day without regret since the day they failed to kill Vecna, the day Max almost died. The day Eddie did.

It's five years to the day today.

Steve spends endless nights thinking about how he'd change that spring break. It was the start of the end of everything. Eddie's death wasn't world ending for Steve. It was the end of a what-if. A maybe. But for Dustin. Oh God, Dustin. Who had blamed himself for Eddie's death, who was broken and then never able to get time to recover. To grieve.

Dustin, who pulled away from everyone, from Steve, because of it.

He's not dead, Steve knows, because he still hears his voice on the radio. Separated from the group but vital to their survival. He spread intel on Demo-creature movements, where safe spaces are, news from across the broken and destroyed America, and how to survive the hellscape.

There have been losses. Terrible, tragic losses.

Murray Baughman. Lucas Sinclair. Karen and Holly Wheeler. Will Byers. And those are just the ones he knows. A lot of people scattered to the wind when Hawkins became overran with the Upside Down and its creatures.

He's still two days out on this supply run. Two more days and he'll get to know who is still around. Who they lost this time. It's not always someone they know, but the horrors never cease, and Steve's been gone a total of three weeks.

"Hey," Robin breaks him from his thoughts as she leans over to whisper in his ear, "since you're gonna daydream, you might as well actually dream. Scouts say it'll be a while before we can continue moving."

"I'm not daydreaming, I'm thinking."

"Well, be sleeping instead. You'll be more useful with some rest," Robin pats her shoulder, inviting him to lean his head against it.

"Don't use my weakness against me. You know I love being useful," Steve sighs as he drops his head onto her shoulder.

"I know. It makes you easy to manipulate," Robin teases. He can hear the smile in her voice. "Now, shut up and sleep."

Steve grumbles under his breath. No real words, just grumpy noises as he does shift and get as comfortable as he can leaned against Robin. He is tired, and with nothing else he can be doing, he won't feel too guilty about it.

He closes his eyes.

He opens his eyes, blinking rapidly at the sudden brightness of the sun shining through the glass storefront of Family Video. Usually when he dreams of the past, the sun's never this bright. It's been years since he's seen the sun at all, with the red-black sky of the Upside Down looming above them constantly.

He takes a deep breath, basking in the fresh(ish) air of Family Video. How long has it been since he's taken a breath without his mouth covered by a mask, bandana, some cloth or another? Well, he's not really breathing without a mask on, his conscious self has one on, but it still feels good to fill his lungs and release. He has half a mind to jump the counter and go outside to repeat that; see if his unconscious mind will provide a difference in the air, if it remembers enough to do so.

"Hey Steve," Dustin says as he is stepping through the doors with Max at his side. It's then that Steve takes in where the dream has started. The doors have just opened, and Steve's looking partially over his shoulder, towards the doors instead of the TV as it plays the news of Chrissy's death on the screen. The world fades back into motion, instead of the slowness the beginning of his dream started as Dustin finishes his question, "how many phones do you have?"

"Are you seeing this?" Steve asks on autopilot, playing out the scene he knows, but he holds off from stating the someone was murdered part. He's tired of saying it.

"How many phones do you have?" Dustin asks with more urgency.

Steve takes in Dustin and Max while Robin explains the phone situation. It's been so fucking long since he's seen Dustin. Since Max was able to see him. God. He can't let this play out like normal. It's not going to fix reality, he knows that logically, but what would it hurt to live out his fantasy of getting a re-do while he dreams? Wasn't that what he was thinking about while awake?

He tunes back into the conversation when Dustin shoves his backpack across the counter, and then himself. Instead of whining about the tapes, he reaches for the pen and notepad they keep close to the till. "Hey, what's this about?"

"Max, fill them in while I do this," Dustin replies.

Max turns to him and Robin, who is eyeing both Steve and Max but listening. Max explains what Steve already knows. The lights going crazy, Eddie fleeing his own home, and that it might be Upside Down related.

There's a script here. Responses he has memorized because of how often he dreams this moment over and over. An answer Steve usually gives, but this time he finds he can hold his tongue. He doesn't have to speak. Doesn't have to follow the script.

"Okay," Steve says instead. "Dustin, what's the number for the Byers now?

Surprisingly, that actually pulls Dustin from the computer. He spins on the stool to give Steve a confused look. "What? Why?"

If he's being honest with himself, he's never really had this much control over his dreams before. Having this control makes him want to do all the things he's daydreamed about. To change the choices that fill him with regret and guilt. "I want to leave a message for Jonathan," Steve lies, "or talk to him if he's home. Give him a heads up that Upside Down shit might be going on again."

Dustin narrows his eyes at Steve, suspicious, "Jonathan?"

"Yeah. Jonathan," Steve says in his bitchiest voice. "Number, dude."

He can tell Dustin doesn't fully believe the lie, but he recites the number anyway.

"Thanks," Steve says as he scoots around Robin and heads to Keith's office to use the phone there. The first thing he does is call the police station and let them know that he saw Eddie Munson at Rick Lipton's place, up by Lover's Lake on Holland Road. The lady who answered starts to ask questions, Steve just says he recognized the trailer on TV as the Munson's and hangs up. He'll swing by later once everyone else has pieced together the Rick Lipton part of this all themselves. If Eddie's still there, he'll drag him to the station himself.

'Cause the thing is, Steve has thought of many scenarios. So many. And even if nothing else changes, this is the bit that will. Eddie cannot be killed in the Upside Down if he is in a jail cell instead. And if the police do follow up on his tip, then they'll take Eddie in for questioning before Fred dies. And that's.

Well.

Steve's living through the end of the world and that changes people. It's changed Steve. Once there would have been a time when allowing someone to die, knowing it was going to happen and not stopping it, would have filled Steve with guilt, regret, maybe even some self-loathing. But Steve's made enough sacrifices for this town. Lost enough of the people he loves to be jaded. Maybe even cruel. If Fred has to die to prove that Eddie didn't do it, then that's what will happen.

His next step is to call the Byers. It surprises him that Joyce actually answers with a hesitant hello. That never happens in the dreams.

"Joyce. I mean, Ms. Byers. It's Steve. Uhh, Steve Harrington," he says.

"Oh. Hello Steve. What, uh, what can I do for you?" Joyce's voice is still hesitant.

"Listen, the Upside Down is back. Or, like, it was never gone? I don't know. But I needed to tell you."

"Oh my God," Joyce sounds horrified, and Steve can hear Murray in the background asking questions. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Vec- sorry, it has already killed a girl. Max was a witness. Well, of the aftermath. But that's not important. What I need is for you to tell El that she's never been a monster and never will be. That everything has been the fault of One. And I think you should tell her Hopper is alive and you're going to rescue him."

There's not an immediate answer. A rustling sound and then faint voices he can't make out. She must be covering the phone with her hand as she and Murray talk. Or argue, knowing Murray. After a moment, Murray's voice comes through the line, "How do we know you are who you say you are?"

It's followed by Joyce shouting, "How do you know about Hopper?" and Murray quickly shushing her and some shuffling noises before Joyce says, "Okay. We're both listening."

"Look, I know you have no reason to believe me so I'll give you something that might serve as proof that I know things I shouldn't. When everyone gets back from the roller rink, be there for El. She's going to- to have a bad night, because of a girl that's been, like, bullying her at school. Then, I need you to get them headed this way tomorrow morning, because you gotta be gone then, too, but like. Be there for El tonight. There will be an incident involving a roller skate. So, if you believe me, call me back after that."

"How do we know you're who you claim to be, Steve?" Murray questions again, while Joyce says, horrified, "El's been being bullied?"

"I can't exactly prove I'm me. But call my house tonight after you've spoken to El and I'll answer. That's the best I can do. I... I don't know if Jonathan or Mike have my number, but Mike can call home and get my number from Nancy. That'll be proof, right? Or Will can get it from Dustin. Whichever."

"And how do you know about something happening tonight at the roller rink?" Joyce demands.

"I know more than I should. So, if the roller rink thing holds up, and you decide to at least hear me all the way out, call my house," Steve hangs up then, not wanting to get into a loop of explanation.

"Steve! Hurry up and come help people while I help Thing One and Thing Two!" Robin calls through the door and Steve takes a step towards the closed door to comply but he stops, hand hanging just above the doorknob. That's how the dream goes. That's what 19-year-old Steve would have done.

But that's a Steve that died five years ago, when the world ended, when the apocalypse started. Steve's not 19 anymore, though he must look it, a master of his own puppet. He's never sought himself out in a mirror when he dreams; he's too busy taking in everyone who has been lost to him in his waking life to bother with himself.

What does he want to do this time?

What does he want to do right now?

He leaves Keith's office to beeline to Dustin, pausing only to pat Robin on the shoulder. He slides around Max and comes to a stop beside Dustin.

"I already told you, I need this for-" Dustin starts to speak but cuts off with a squawk that sounds like a mixture of indignation and confusion as Steve just reaching out and bodily turns Dustin towards him. "Steve, this is important!"

"I know," Steve says and then hugs Dustin. Dustin doesn't hug back, but neither does he pull away. Steve knows he's missed Dustin, felt his loss for many years now, but holding Dustin now, feeling him solid and here feels Steve what he can only equate to grief.

Dustin lets himself be hugged for what is, undoubtedly, an awkward amount of time for him before he thumps Steve's back twice and says, "okay... You can stop now."

Steve lets go and turns to Max, who immediately puts her hands up, "No. Absolutely not."

He chuckles and steps around her. He won't force his affection on her.

Then he takes off the family video vest and sets it on the counter.

"Steve?" Robin asks.

"Sorry, Robs, I can't stay and help customers. I have some things I got to do."

"Steve, you cannot abandon me on a Saturday!"

He can't quite bring himself to feel bad for abandoning her. It is a shit thing to do but right now saving Eddie and Max from Vecna is more important. He's already wasting daylight, so instead of answering his gives her his best 'I'm so sorry' face and bolts out the door. All three of them shout after him but he doesn't slow.

He's got a list of regrets to change.

-

Tagging the besties and all the people that expressed interest when I posted the lil blurb about this. Sorry if I missed you!

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @music9009 @apomaro-mellow @soaringornithopter @reighnofdreams @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @sirsnacksalot @livelifeliketheresnotomorow @sageclipse @schnukiputz @mbloggotdeletedsothisismybackup @lumoschildextra @vampirestevie @alex-axolotl @juleswashere3 @yet-still-more-banched

[livfastdieyoung69]

Mikey Berzatto & The Girl Across the Street, who is no longer allowed on Chicago’s famous Clark Street (ft. Richie)

Clark Street, covered with more than 200 bars and pubs, is constantly crawling with visitors every night. St.Patty’s weekend though? It’s a disaster. Imagine spring break in Miami crammed into two nights, and shoved on one long road. Though they hadn’t been going out much, with Richey’s baby and Mikey’s…whatever they got going on, Mikey and Richie had to hit it up.

Before they take off on their adventure though, Mikey stops over across the street while everyone else files out after closing, like he does every day.

“I’d like to talk to the manager please!” Richie mimics from beside him, voice high pitched while he raps on the counter. Her head peaks around the corner before her face brightens in a grin and Mikey’s heart squeezes a little at the sight of her all pretty and sweet, in a green shirt for the sake of it.

“Thought you were gettin’ out of here?” She asks, walking towards them. Mikey shrugs. He’s leaning against the counter on the other side, and when she reaches it she greets him with a peck and a little whisper of ‘hi, baby’, and holy fuck, an entire future with this woman flashes in his head for a minute. He gets that little lovesick grin with a gleam in his eyes while he whispers hi back and Richie leaves them to their ‘gross shit’, flopping over to the booths.

“Figured we’d grab a slice or somethin’ before.” She pushes herself back off the counter, Mikey rounds its, following after her like the love sick fool he is, and Richie just yells demands of what he wants from the booth he splayed out in like the diva he is. As usual, when their pizza’s done the three sit in their booth, always the one closest to the counter.

The boys are shoving pizza down their throats like the 200-bar-St.Patty’s-bar-crawl is going to disappear when the clock strikes midnight, which it absolutely won’t be doing.

“How come you ain’t doin nothin?” Richie gestures over to her with a mouth full of pepperoni.

“What the hell am I supposed to do?” She shrugs after kicking him for being gross. “You guys are the only people I know doing anything.”

“That’s cause we’re the only people you talk to, loser.” Richie scoffs.

“Well, who else do you talk to? Your one year old?”

“You wanna come out with us?” Mikey offers, interrupting their fighting, looking down at her next to him. She looks up at him from where’s she’s leaned her chin against her propped up arm on the flimsy, fake wood table, shaking her head after a second. Mikey won’t ever be able to get used to how pretty she looks this close, especially when’s tilting her head up towards him, the little bit of a smile on her face like he’s the only thing she could ever want to look at (he is).

“No,” She starts, “No, you guys go have fun, I’m not gonna ruin your night or nothing-“

“You’d never ruin nothin,” Mikey bumps his shoulder to hers, a little exasperated because that’s the dumbest thing he’s ever heard. “Should get out, have some fun, yeah?”

She turns bashful, leaning backwards and towards him. “Okay,” she eventually nods with a growing grin when the two start to cheer, and Mikey hugs her even closer into his side. “You gotta help with closing though!”

Staying true to her word, she ruined nothing. For most of the night. The trio stumbled around the street for a couple hours, with her sandwiched between the two, arms stuffed in each of the boys’. Not only was keeping up with them hard enough, but it’d been quite some time since she’d gone out so she was definitely more than tipsy.

It’s a little before two in the morning when they make their way into the last bar. Mikey and Richie each managed to squeeze a barstool for themselves (Mikey tried to give it to his girl, but she declined) and she’s just hanging off Mikey the way she has been all night, arms wrapped around his middle completely, and pushed into his side.

“You doin’ good down there?” Mikey tucks his head down to her ear, still yelling a little, while he rubs her back with his big palm. He does it all the time, likes the excuse to push his hand under the back of her shirt a couple times, and she loves it anyways. Not that he really needs an excuse. She squeezes her arms around him with a dopey grin, the same one on his face.

“M’perfect.” He gets a nice, messy kiss on the cheek to go along with it. “You’re perfect.” She stumbles over the word a little this time, both of their smiles somehow growing. Mikey’s blushing a little, laughing bashfully and turning his head away from many more kisses.

Suddenly, she gasps and sits up a little straighter with something over his shoulder in sight.

“Wha’s the matter?” She unwraps herself from him while he asks, hands laying on his shoulders.

“This is a very serious matter, and I need two dollars.” He gives her a five instead, and watches her shuffle through the crowd of green and gold until he loses her, and then watches the crowd for her to show up again.

She plops down in his lap when she returns, and when Richie, leaving his conversation with some random dude next to him, asks what’s going on she just shushes him, jutting a hand out to his face. Suddenly John Cena’s theme song is blasting throughout the entire place, and she’s cackling into Mikey’s shoulder.

“What the fuck is going on?” Richie asks again, baffled laughter in between.

“You can’t see me, bitch!”

It plays about half a dozen more times before the perpetrator (and technically her accomplices, who had no idea they were accomplices) was found and made to leave. None of them could even imagine the possibility of driving and are once again stumbling down the street and towards The Beef, where Tiff was grabbing Richie.

She keeps singing the dumb song, has gotten it so stuck in Richie’s head that he’s mimicking the trumpet part for her. She swings Mikey’s hand with hers, and when they reach The Beef, Tiffs already there, and very confused when they all break out into the song again.

“You guys need a ride?” Tiff, somehow still so sweet at three in the morning, asks while Richie clammers into the front seat and she’s still swinging her hand with Mikey’s.

“We’re gonna walk! Gotta get my steps innnn.” Her apartment is a good ten minute walk, and a car ride sounds like a nice short cut to puking. Their walk is quiet, and peaceful, a very dramatic change from the rest of the night. Neither of them bother to do anything to get ready for bed besides tearing off their clothes and flopping into bed.

“M’so glad you crossed the street, Mikey.” It’s random, murmured into the dark, and long after any type of conversation they’ve had. “You make me so much happier.”

He takes the hand she rests of his chest, the only form of contact they have whenever he stays over, because they both run way too hot, and gives it a kiss, running his calloused thumb over the back.

“You make me happy too, baby. More than I ever thought I could have.”

[cephei-ea]

The Constant (Geto)

Chapter 3

Warnings: violence and brutality, vivid descriptions of injuries, broken bones, blood, cursing, one night stand,

Genre: angst

Word count: 6.2k

╭─────────────────.★..─╮

It had been 5 months without Geto Suguru, September 27 when Shoko convinced you to go out for drinks instead of sulking in your cluttered apartment. The walk was long, it just didn’t feel like it was. Probably because you offered to go by foot as a means to clear your head, among many attempts.

September 27.

September was the month everyone always forgot was part of the summer. Everyone was always too eager to move on to Halloween. Holidays were exciting. They were even more so 5 months ago.

If you’d known last winter would be the last one you shared with Suguru, you would have cherished it more.

5 months ago, the next big thing was summer break, so everyone forgot how May was still a spring month. Not Geto. He would always take you out to enjoy the last of the cherry blossoms left in Hokkaido. He knew you all too well. In summer, he would take you to Okinawa, even on September 27, when the hot weather wouldn’t let up. Probably the last day of the heat.

The bar loomed ahead with its bright yellow lights, gleaming neon signs and the trashy smell surrounding it that Shoko swore up and down was just one of the patrons. You opened the paper door and inside was Shoko, Nanami, Utahime and two empty spaces. They all huddled beneath a strangely large kotatsu, Utahime slouched over the table with an empty shot glass raised lazily in the air for more. Shoko somehow managed to pour her nth drink, smoking yet another cigarette in her drunken stupor as her cheeks ignited with hues of red. Nanami was sorely out of place, they must have paid him a days salary to go with them. His face was deadpan, goggles removed and his tie somewhat loosened. He leaned back onto his hands and blinked slowly off into the distance, a similar pink dusting his cheeks. Beside him was one pillow on the floor, as opposed to the other four that huddled around the remaining three sides of the kotatsu. It was clearly Gojos spot, the drink and bowl dishes far too spread apart to be comfortably grabbed by anyone with shorter limbs than him. One empty spot remained at the corner of the table. An empty shot glass placed in front of it.

You calmly took your place there, feeling their eyes croon down to you as you sat.

“Hey you cutieeeee!” Utahime slurred, fingering a piece of your hair and letting it fall from her fingers.

“Hey guys. Where’s Gojo?” The rest of the bar bustled with visitors, similar kotatsus filled with friends, lovers, siblings and groups of all kinds. Suguru would have hated a place like this. You eyed Nanami as he spoke.

“He stepped outside a minute ago…. Said he needed to make a call. But I don’t know what’s taking the idiot so long.” Nanami seemed to be the only one in his right mind. Despite it being clear he was wasted out of his mind.

“Good on you Nana. Taking advantage of a Friday for once.” You praised. Nanami hardly acknowledged you, another sip of his whiskey was enough of an indicator that he was not really listening.

It was a few more hours,

maybe midnight,

before a wave of nausea hit you. It was probably the obscene amount of empty soju bottles at your side that trilled waves of sickness through your stomach. Whatever. You stood, the thick sole of your boot catching on the floor below and sending you crashing right back down the floor in your failed attempt to leave.

“Why don’t you just take a second and sit?” Nanami called after you, eyes shutting and opening back up, slow as his slurred speech. With a hand flicked through the air, you waved him off and stumbled from the bar. The sliding door was heavy, the smooth bamboo cool against the pads of your warmed fingers. The nipping cold at every inch of your exposed skin was a sharp reminder of your new reality the second you forced open the bar door.

Silence.

5 months ago, the deep rumble of the silence outside would have chilled the tips of your fingers, numbed the dull ache in the cavity of your chest and harmonized with the echo of a deep rooted void in your mind.

But today was September 27th, 5 months ago had passed 5 months ago. Today, Suguru was not at your side as you looked up at the dark gray night sky and the beginnings of snowfall dripping into the cold concrete beneath your boots. A plume of vapor rushed from your lips, eager to mix with the rest of the cold air surrounding you.

Silence.

Except it wasnt silent. You could swear, you could definitely swear that there was noise. Each snowflake trickling into the crevices of you with a ring so subtle you weren’t sure you’d even heard it, and then melting against your skin as though they were meant to be there, becoming one with you.

Melting. They were just like you. In the way they fell to their deaths from their home In the cool sky; landing on your skin as though that’s where they were always meant to be, despite the fact that it was also the place they would meet their ends within the instant of contact.

A familiar groan caught your attention. The voice was airy but deep and groggy, as it’d always been. “What’re you doing…” the grumble of his throat penetrated the otherwise silent night, a stark contrast to the gentle tinkling of snowflakes on the ground. Even the stars seemed to make a sound, the air chilly and riddled with every plume of vapor that escaped you, and Gojos. Of course it was Gojo.

“That… you can’t… pick up your phhhone.” His mumble was probably more audible than he was giving it credit for. Gojo held his phone out in front of him, dressed head to toe in black and missing his blindfold. A thick plume of vapor seethed in strings of white through his teeth, his cheeks and nose burned with red hues of cold.

Your eyes glue to his hair. It matched with the snow surrounding him, unlike the usual dark and green landscape, somewhere he always stood out.

Now, he was like a snow fox, long white eyelashes brushing his cheeks as he settled against the brick wall on his back. And then, his eyelids parted in a moment of silence and his head flipped to the side, his eyes softening when they met yours. He pushed off against the wall, his posture wobbling as he went.

One, two, three and then twelve steps and he was standing before you once again.

Gojo Satoru, the strongest man alive, was standing in front of you in a drunken haze, his back curled with exhaustion and his lips chapped and red from the snow. “There you are.”

<<<

ELABORATE ON SURROUNDINGS ANS SETTING

“There you are.” Suguru whispered, voice airy and rich like music to your ears.

Your lips fell from their smile as you exchanged words with Gojo, the plaza around you buzzing with chatter and activity of people shopping, likely for Christmas or for the new year. Suguru’s face held a strange look of forced content as he quietly approached the two of you. It was a look he often gave when someone was irritating him, but he was trying to remain polite as always. His thin eyes flitted between you and Gojo for a moment before the two of you were smiling.

“Suguru!” Gojo moaned as if he was responsible for all the inconveniences in his life. “That damn liquor store is closed again! Can you believe this, huh!? I mean isnt the point of selling-“ the rest of his endless banter was but a muffled jumble of complaints when Suguru’s thin eyes snapped over to you. Your best friend ignored Gojo bitching on his shoulder, only to direct every ounce of his attention to the curve of your eyes and then down to the shape of your body in the uniform you wore.

“I mean can they seriously not even-“ Geto interrupted Gojos rant by shrugging him off his shoulder and stepping closer to you, the faded scent of his cologne finally permeating the air around you.

Suguru came with an electric air that stifled any sense of self control or composure you convinced yourself you had. As he always did. His eyes pierced yours deeper with every second that they remained stuck to you, lighting every nerve in your body on fire and causing a sheen of moisture to protrude from your skin.

“Let’s go. We were supposed to go to that store you like, weren’t we?” His voice was filled with kindness and warmth, but his expression betrayed every note of it. And then he was taking your hand in his tough one and gently pulling you away from Gojo, not leaving you any time to hear his complaints as you retreated from the cold outside and into Suguru’s car.

Upon sitting in his passenger seat, which was plastered on the dashboard with rhinestones that spelled your name, Suguru shut your door behind you and made for the drivers side. He was finally sitting down and pressing the ignition to life when a tense silence fell between you.

Silence was never uncommon between the two of you, never with Suguru Geto, a man who was able to pull smiles and giggles and conversation from you as though he’d been doing it his whole life. Suguru who never minded a bit of silence, and always has managed to bleed his comfort in it, onto you.

“Sugu.” Your voice was warm and soothing as you reached across the console for the back of his neck, feeling the tension and hardened muscles beneath his bun. “What’s wrong?” It was times like these, as he titled his head back into your palm and heaved a quiet sigh of relaxation, that you wanted to finally reveal to him all the emotions you kept pent up behind your lips. Those lips he wanted to kiss so badly, those lips that itched to run down his neck and spill words of love and adoration for him. Still, after years of loving Suguru, you figured the unshakable friendship you’d fought to build with him, might prove not so mighty if you were to reveal how much you loved him since the age of 12.

So then, as his head turned to you and his lazy eyes lugged up to yours, he said the words he swore he would keep behind closed doors forever.

“Don’t get so comfortable with that twink.” He teased, ever in attempt to remain stoic. His voice and the words that carried it to you ran red against your cheeks and heated the lower half of your abdomen. You opened your mouth to speak, furrowing your brows in confusion, but instead what left you was a short groan of confusion.

It may must have been a spur of confidence and unrelenting hope that drove you to speak with a challenge in lieu of an attitude.

“Gojo???” Smooth waves of satisfaction and longing slipped from your scalp to the tips of your toes, over and over again. “Why?” And then Suguru, large and lithe as he sat behind the wheel of his Centenario, tilted to your arm trapped behind his head and pressed his lips gently, barely a touch, against your wrist, his eyes hooded and dark with desire that you rarely were blessed enough to see.

“Because I’m selfish.” Sparks alighted in your stomach so aggressively at that, and the trailing of his lips along your perfumed wrist, and also an amalgamation of every aspect of stimulation being in this situation. So much so that you were sure if you hadn’t looked away in that very moment, you may have made a mess of his expensive passenger seat. And of your platonic relationship with him thus far.

>>>

“Satoru.” You spoke. It was acknowledgement of his existence, rather than a greeting. Gojo was always rowdy when he was drunk, causing unnecessary drama in the lives of anyone unfortunate enough to encounter him. He was destructive. What you didn’t expect was for this night to be the exception. He wasn’t disruptive, or particularly dramatic when he approached you. You wondered how long he’d been outside; his nose and the skin of his cheeks dusted with a cold layer of red. When he was drunk, Gojo was never quiet, never calm, never troubled. What caught you by surprise was the profound melancholy enthralling his irises with and emotion you could identify as exhaustion.

“I’m sorry. I know this isn’t… what you wante-… this isn’t easy for you. You worked so hard to keep all of our lives together.” his words were slurred, and his voice groggy, likely a result of the late night and alcohol he surely had not put down in hours. “Please just… stop being sad, yeah? Please? Feels like ‘m watching it all again ‘n I can’t do anything bout it..” The usual bright and blinding blue of his eyes were uncharacteristically dull and lacked the electricity that made them so distinctly illuminating. It was a look of desperation that you never thought you would never see on a man so powerful. Not on him. Not Satoru.

“Shoko made me realize… made me realize. You can ask anythin’ of me.. I can fight any curse f’r you… but i can’t fight this.” You never expected to hear a tremble in Satorus voice, never him. Never in him would you await the sudden break in his voice that came with his trembling. “‘Feel powerless. This title, it-“ and then his face was buried in his palms, his back hunched forward in a drunken daze. “Means nothing if I can’t fight this f’r you. Couldn’t fight it for Suguru either.”

It was infuriating. It shouldn’t have been, really. But the way Satoru grieved for you as though you were already too far gone, putting you on the same level as the man you’d fought bone and blood to escape, ran rivers of anger through your body.

So your arms hooked beneath his and fought to hoist him to his feet, and upright.

“Get up.” It was more of an attempt at a demand than a successful order. “Get up!!” Gojos feet stumbled beneath his weight as he stood. The floor was far too slimy with mushy snow, and before long, he was giving up and allowing his body to slump upon the floor and the brick wall. Satoru was heavy, head fallen and the shine of his positive air now vanished, a shallow remainder of the man you were accustomed to.

The snow was cold; winter was cold. It was clear to you now as you stood before the slumped Satoru, hopeless and desperate, that the late months of the year never felt so cold, so empty, so lifeless. It was clear to you now that if you’d known the previous winter would be your last by his side, you would have held Suguru tighter, kissed him deeper and relished in him longer. It was clear to you now the difference between this moment and those from back then, with him. The street lamp had changed from warm and dim to yellow and dull. The snow changed from nipping and exhilarating to bone-chilling and uncomfortable. The silence changed from inviting and healing, to loud and tense. You were reminded that winter is supposed to be cold.

<“Sugu, I never want to leave here…”>

You wanted nothing more than to leave. This place no longer welcomed you like it once did. It no longer insighted joy and familiarity like once before, and instead it singed the blood in your veins like a painful reminder of all the things you would never have again.

A dry sob wracked through you, deep, guttural and gently hinging your body forward as though you were going to allow yourself to vomit. “You…”

<“YOU SHOULD HAVE STOPPED HIM-“>

“You need to stop this.” Was all the advice you could offer him. Sorceress and all, Satorus body was far too heavy for one person to casually haul away. “Gojo get up for fucks sake, you’re being such a…” and then the tears were back, this time, with a vengeance that brought frustration and anger. “Such a prick!” But of course the man wouldn’t budge, and you were falling to your heels on the floor beside him.

___

It was dark when your vision began swimming. The amount of people surrounding you in sweaty bodies and breath that smelled of tequila was… well a lot, given that you were at a club. Your dress ran higher up your thighs with every movement you made out on that slippery dance floor. The shots must have been hitting at once now. The sudden pang of nausea and confidence that coarser through you being a sign among many: like Gojos face in front of you beginning to morph and split into duplicates of itself.

Or maybe that was just the scorching heat that emanated from your body. If you didn’t burn up and die of heatstroke now, you surely would later tonight. By the way that sexy stranger from across the dance floor was glued at the eyes to yours, and the strange intrigue you felt towards his appearance, the chances that you leave that club alone were slim to none. His hair was to his shoulders and a color of jet black that reminded you of the ocean of night that the moon swam in, his eyes were brown like the soil beneath the plants at your favorite dam, and his skin was a pale color of peach that reminded you of the flowers you received with sickening consistency.

“Suguru?”

_

You weren’t sure how long it had been since you arrived, or how many margaritas deep you were. But like always, the club worked wonders as a vice for your temporary comfort. However drunk you were, it was enough that for a while, it’d even felt relieving to push up against Satoru and feel the flex of his hands around your waist.

For some reason, however, nights ike these where you showed yourself to end drunk half to sleep always ended in another delirious haze of your mind wandering to Suguru Geto and anchoring every capacity for fun you had to the obstacle that was the idea of him frowning at you.

What would Suguru think if he saw you here, now? As you threw your ass back onto his best friend and allowed the equally blasted sorcerer to glide his hands along the sides of your body, only to immediately lock eyes with yet another hot single across the room?

He’d be livid.

Not just livid, but disappointed beyond belief. Strangely enough, Suguru was always the tame, rational side in your relationship, and in you.

So it was the idea of disappointing the love of your life that drove you to push harshly away from Satoru. His body stumbled backwards in a pull of confusion, his pale skin colored with red and thrumming with alcohol that rid him of his abilities to act rationally. Your body wobbled as it parted from your friends, but you did not waste a moment before you were stalking to the exit. You shouldn’t be here.

This wasn’t for you, this had never been for you. You needed to be at home, with Suguru, and having a late night heart to heart with him and movies and takeout, not wasting away your remaining youth in an exorbitant club out in the middle of the city he sought to destroy.

Your thoughts and fears of disappointing Suguru consumed you so that not even the sound of heavy boots walking up behind you broke you from your trance as you breathed in the beginnings of cool air into your lungs.

<<<

Geto’s boots were heavy in landing when they met the ground, a steady force of dangerous aura that loomed towards your turned body with every second. To you, however, that presence was one of comfort and home, it brought excitement and a flutter in the pit of your abdomen that had you turning quickly to meet Geto as he approached you.

Of course, he was smiling when he met you at the edge of the dam you stood in front of. Keniko Dam was beautiful this time of year, the still water reflected the winter moon like an uneven mirror, the air smelled of pine, soil and the cold, and the chilly air slid down your skin like a calming blanket.

Perhaps, you thought, you never wanted to leave here. This moment when you were free to be yourself, on a mundane date with the man your heart resided within. This moment when Geto was beautiful; breathtaking as he always was. His jet black waves of silken hair ran like black water down his expanse of a back, his tight purple eyes seduced you with ease and the veins and power that coursed through his hands swayed you against his chest like he wouldn’t let another soul near yours. Like he wouldn’t allow so much as a sour gaze in your direction, and like he would burn anyone who dared near you.

You loved it.

“Hi, my beautiful girl.” And oh, the cheesiness of his pick up lines reeled you in like a middle school girl hitting puberty.

>>>

“I’m sorry?” Suguru The man in front of you spoke then. The one from across the dance floor. The tall one with the long, jet black hair and the thin eyes and a muscular frame. He didn’t receive a response, so he was awkward as he glanced around and then held out his hand as friendly as he could given your hazey eyes and slurred speach. “My name is null. Saw you and I…” the man named… whatever his name was shrugged and smirked suggestively. “Couldn’t pass up the chance to talk to you, yknow?” He was attractive, you thought in your drunken haze. When was Suguru ever not? Strangely, he did seem a bit thinner, a bit shorter. But you were drunk so you must have been seeing things. And you tried to convince yourself of that, tried telling yourself that it was the alcohol, that Suguru really was here. Because for a moment before you could meet the color of his irises with yours and before his scent reached you, he had been.

For a few moments, seeing this man who had a similar look to Suguru allowed you to tell yourself it really was him, that he’d come here for you because he knew you were here. And when this cologne did not register as Suguru’s, his voice did not sound like Suguru’s and his build did not match Suguru’s, it became suddenly very blatant and painful that null was, in fact, not Suguru. You knew that.

So, why, you thought as you sat upon his spread legs and allowed him to fill you later that night, did you let yourself get into this situation? His thighs were thin and his skin was ashy beneath you with every time that your ass met his lap, and all of his moans sounded more like cries for help. For the brown haired man with green eyes and a thin frame beneath you, you felt nothing. He was scrawny with a flimsy low pony that rode the nape of his neck like a thin rope. He was no match for the Geto Suguru, 2nd strongest sorcerer and home to the most lethal looks, strength and body you’d ever laid eyes on. Because realistically, you thought as null gripped your hips and thrusted into you at a mediocre pace, how could you blame him for not marching up to Suguru? That was an impossible feat and an entirely unreasonable expectation. Still, before your drunken haze had worn off it was easy to go along with this; he resembled the features of your love in the first place.

But null did not have the sharp nose that Suguru had, did not have his thin and pensive eyes, did not have his smooth lips, did not have his great height or his thick set of muscles that could handle you with ease. And null did not make you feel at home, or as though your life was complete. Instead, as you realized mid-fuck, he made you feel sick to your stomach. Being here made you feel sick. The memories of Suguru you had in this bed made you feel sick. The feel of his filthy touch was sickening. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want anything else but to be by his side, regardless of what he was doing at yours.

Still while those thoughts were fairly fleeting, ultimately there was a stranger 4 inches deep in you, you were drunk beyond belief, and it was just a little too easy to forget all the reasons to kick him out right now.

You really should have. You really, really should have kicked out null in that short moment of self awareness. Because while you lost your inhibitions, you also lost all reason, and managed to fall asleep beside the stranger. As soon as you realized you wouldn’t truly be satisfied, you flopped down beside the drunkard and knocked out like a shattered lamp. It was over from then on, because null decided to stay. Null decided of his own volition that staying at your home and taking over Suguru’s the empty side of the bed was a decision he could make. So he did.

And when you woke up to the sound of the doorbell, dread washed over you in cold waves of ice cold water. Perhaps, those chills came more from the fact that you knew exactly what the sound of the doorbell was.

What it always was.

Every Sunday morning by 11am there was a fresh bouquet of flowers at your door step. The colored ones, the ones you liked.

The ones Suguru knew you liked; and was still sending on purpose, trying to get in your head. Or your bed. Probably both.

It was awful to think of how many bouquets you’d had to throw away, how many had rotted away on your dining table without a single vase of water. That table had become a cemetery for all the flower batches you’d receive, their final resting place. Given, they all died quickly, just as your attempts to save them did.

You weren’t sure if it was right to feed and water them.

You weren’t sure if it was right by the flowers, or if it was a disservice to yourself.

You weren’t sure if it would solidify your secret hope to keep some part of Suguru with you.

They all were too painful to look at, much less to touch to more than just move them. That dining room table where you would sit with Suguru and together eat the meal you’d prepared, and he would talk as though there were still millions of topics to cover between you two.

You probably should have gone to pick up the flowers when they arrived and you received the ring at the door.

You couldn’t. Not again. Not anymore. It hurt to look at them, spreading dread through your veins like poison. Like a depression, like an illness that was growing from your table and despite how you tried, you couldn’t bring yourself to clean up because of how your gut wrenched every time you looked at them.

So null woke up finally, though only after you had shoved him off the bed to rouse him. He immediately stood in shock, quick to grab his boxers from the floor and awkwardly dress himself. He looked about as though he’s been hit by a bus and riddled with amnesia. Then, the stranger rubbed his eyes with his balled up fists and tousled his hair.

“Hey…” he tried a smirk, and a forced deep voice that sounded more like a rusty door hinge.

“Get out of my apartment.” And then the doorbell was ringing again, twice in a row this time and with the strange urgency of someone growing impatient. You glanced in the direction of your bedroom door for a moment before grabbing a pillow from your bed and hauling it at the thin man across the mattress from you. He blocked it, caught it and gently put it down. “Get out! Why would you sleep here!? Did you not get the hint that that was supposed to be a one time thing!?” And then the doorbell was ringing again. The flower delivery man must have gotten fed up with the piles of flowers outside your door. You refused to fix the issue, and were shocked that null did not bolt the moment he saw it. “I’m coming!!” For fucks sake, what kind of delivery man rang the bell four times within 30 seconds.

“Wow someone wants to come in here. I figured from the flowers piling up outside. What’s that about anyways?” The twinge of entitlement that laced his words made lava pour down your spine, so instead of speaking with the man, you threw him his shirt and left the room and made for the door.

Among all of the possibilities and all the hopes you had for who may be at the door in that moment, Geto Suguru was surely not one of them. When the pungent smell of jasmine permiated every pore of you body, you felt Suguru making his way into it as well. That huge bouquet of jasmine flowers with twinges of gold and purple made all the oxygen in your body escape. You could no longer remember that there was a strange man in your room, that you were half naked, that there were an embarrassing amount of bouquets strewn across the carpet and that is Suguru took even two steps into your apartment, he would see null, and then you would never see null again. Only in the afterlife would you meet the bastard again, because if Suguru saw him, you were afraid of his reaction. But then, his presence alone was enough to wipe your mind clean of any useful knowledge. Suguru eyed you down from above, his thin eyes extracting the strength from your limbs with every second. You felt the world wobble beneath you when he took a silent but heavy step into your apartment, pushing your body backward. His left boot followed, landing like a mallet into the hollow apartment. His large hand slid atop yours, his fingers sliding between yours and taking over to shut the door behind him. The bouquet had fallen to his side, slowly slipping and falling with a gently crinkle to the floor beside you.

You were losing your mind. It had gotten so bad— your delirium had gotten so bad that you were losing your mind. Suguru Geto was in front of you, wrapping his arm slowly around your waist and pulling you closer to him, his fingers wandering as they stretched down to your ass and then to the side of your waist.

It was heaven.

It was liquid gold dripping down your skin.

It was warm water in every inch of skin he touched.

“Took you long enough.” He spoke, his voice gravelly and deep and dripping in fire that ignited in your tummy. And then you knew this was real.

It was real and amazing and perfect until null exited your bedroom with bed head and smelling of you. Then, it was awful. It was awful and terrible and bad and you felt sick as you watched Suguru’s grip slowly fall loose and he stood upright to stare at the man leaning on your doorway.

Geto Suguru was angry in the split second it took him to process what was happening. He slowly and quietly removed himself from you before turning entirely to null and digging his short nails into his palms.

His fists were balled tightly, a pinch formed between his brows and his lungs working like he had just worked out.

“Suguru. Wait.” You tried, stepping beside him and grabbing his arm. He shoved you away in an instant, placing both his hands over his face and aggressively rubbing them up and down his eyes and then his mouth.

“Woah, big guy. This was casual, swear to god we’re not even together.” Null placed his hands in the air and quietly backed into the room. “What? That your boyfr-“

“Shut up, holy fuck! Shut the fuck up and get out-“ you screamed at the stranger, facing Suguru and trying to push him into the living room.

But those words set lava in Suguru’s chest, and he was crossing the room like he was moving without thought, every step loud through the silence beating through the room. Every ounce of pain, every word he never said, exploded into a parade of fury; his eyes never tore away from null. The stranger stumbled helplessly to his feet from where he’d lost his strength, a rope of fear and dread writhing around in his irises until he was crawling beneath the bed and scrambling away from Suguru.

But the pounding of his boots never ceased and then Suguru was bending at the knees, torso leaned forward between his powerful legs as he reached beneath the bed.

“Suguru stop!!!” The floor was more slippery than usual, and your feet gave out against the shiny hard floor, sending you to the ground with a hard thud as you attempted to intervene. If not for null, then for Suguru yourself. The sepia wood below strung a wave of pressure through your chest, shuddering the shaky air from your esophagus and knocking your pupils up and behind your eyelids.

Suguru’s muscled arms stretched beneath the bed and his lithe fingers reached for null as he scrambled backward too. little too slow.

His hands curled around the flimsy collar of his white t shirt and violently dragged the shorter man from beneath your bed frame, only the stitching and the very collar of his shirt surviving the way Suguru’s fingers dug into the material. The material shredded apart around his fingers, falling away from the remainder of his tough collar as it wrapped around his neck like a noose. Suguru forced the man’s body closer to him, releasing him as his feet hit the ground and winding his right arm back.

A sickening crack alighted the room, Suguru’s fist rocking against nulls jaw and leaving blood, saliva, and a deformed jaw in its wake. Null fell hard to the bed, a scream ripping its way through his throat and his hand coming to cradle his jaw, now displaced in its entirety to the right. Blood dripped from his mouth, seeping its way into your white sheets and staining every layer it touched, what would soon become a heart throbbing reminder of this day.

5 seconds.

5 seconds later, you watched from the floor, trying to catch your breath as Suguru reached into nulls short hair, every muscle in his exposed arm seeming to groan with strain as he forced the man’s body closer from off your bed and slammed his back against the floor.

Another crack reverberated through your room as he hit the floor. The force of Suguru’s push so intense that he was left with an injured back upon impact and he punished you with a broken floor that splintered up around nulls torso. Sugurus hulking form faced away from you as he took one, two slow steps toward null.

One, and then two knees hit the floor as his hard body fell atop null’s.

One, and then two more sickening cracks when his fists bled against null’s temples.

One, and then two broken fingers when Suguru angered further following a few scratches by null left against his arm. The scratches didn’t bleed, but null did, and now his fingers bended in directions unheard of, Suguru’s fingers sliding down to his elbow and aiming again to snap it in the one direction it refused to bend.

Screams.

Who was screaming louder at this point? You or null?

You weren’t sure. What you were sure about was that Suguru was going to kill the man in front of him, If you didn’t move.

Still, as you watched the love of your life sickeningly brutalize your last booty call, the world spun, your feet hurt and your knees gave out from beneath you.

Stomach.

Suguru opted next to stand, bringing null with him by a vice grip around the neck.

Twist.

Null’s eyes met yours, eyes red and circled by smears of blood. “SUGURU STOP IT!!”

Bile.

Suguru paused in an instant, his entire six foot frame freezing mid strangle. Black boots shifted without meeting the air, his eyes wide and riddled with electric wrath, lips tight and unmoving, his jaw clenched so tightly, you swore his head trembled with anger. When he met your eyes, they softened, immediately releasing null and ignoring the way his body fell from three feet in the air to the splintered wood below, a dull thud sounding from behind him as he stepped toward you.

╰─..★.─────────────────╯

[ao3-rex1223]

Twist Me series: part I, part III, part IV

Pairing: Professor!Leon x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut, Porn, Vaginal, Sex, Blow Jobs, Mildly Dubious Consent, Desk Sex, Creampie, Spanking, One Night Stands, Thigh Fucking

Summary: Sequel to "Twist My Words". You haven't stopped thinking about fucking Leon for a good grade at the end of last semester. One casual hook up with a frat boy ends up in some unintended consequences. When Professor Kennedy comes to the library where you work looking for a textbook. One thing leads to another...

A/N: I'm finally out of Tumblr Jail! I guess this blog got flagged as "spam" somehow? But to celebrate getting released, here's my newest Leon Kennedy fic!

“Fuck! I'm gonna cum!” the frat boy moans as he shoots his load inside you. You're not even sure you remember his name. It's something like Jason or Jeremy or…Jesse? Oh well; who cares? It's not like he even got you close to climaxing….not like with Professor Kennedy back at the end of last semester. God, that was the most incredible sex you've ever had! The memories of that day have been in your spank bank ever since. You had fucked him for a good grade but haven't really seen him since; you're not in his class or anything this semester so you don't really cross now.

The frat boy with the J-name releases your ankles from his shoulders and gets off you, wiping his cock dry with a towel he grabbed from his floor, one that likely has seen its fair share of jizz. He offers you the towel and you silently decline with a wave of your hand and a mildly scrunched face. You quickly dress, trying to suppress a look of disgust as you feel his cum oozing out of your cunt. You slip out of his room and go back downstairs to the party that's still going on, its guests seemingly unaware of but not likely to be surprised by the fact that you hooked up with one of the hosts. It's the Friday night before spring break so everyone is out partying. You grab another Soho cup and fill it with the concoction of punch and whatever alcohol with which it's been spiked then take a big swing, hoping to wipe the disappointing experience Mr J-name called ‘sex’.

Your heart skips a beat as you hear a few students talk about Mr Kennedy. It seems like they're all taking his class this semester. One of them calls your name. “Did you just hook up with James!?” A petite girl asks. She looks like she's too young to be drinking, yet still has a cup with the boozy punch in it. Her tone is accusatory, like she's jealous.

“James! That was his name!” You reply, more so to yourself than her. You keep walking, uncaring of her perturbed state. She doesn't know how lucky she is! She gets to see Mr Kennedy every day! Your mood progressively sours and you decide to leave the party early. You unlock the door to your dorm and dump your keys on the desk. You kick the door closed with your foot and mosey to your room.

As you lie on your bed, you replay your tryst with Professor Kennedy in your mind. Your hand travels along your body, touching and caressing. You knead and squeeze your breasts, remembering the feel of his dick inside you, thrusting hard and hitting your cervix like an aggressive salesman knocking on a door. You moan and kick your pants and panties off, hand trailing south towards your wet folds. You recall the feeling of him bending you over his desk and holding you down roughly as you start stroking your clit, the pads of your fingers doing their best to stimulate you like he could. You start to pant, the tension in your belly building steadily. Slick coats your fingers and leaks down your ass cheeks. You rub faster and faster, playing the sound of his voice in your mind again…

…“That's a good girl.” … “Choke on my cock like a - ah - good little slut. You want an A, sweetheart? Better - mf - suck this dick like your grade depends on it…

You inhale sharply and cum hard on your fingers. You lay there, boneless, for a moment before rising out of bed to clean yourself up. After you wash your hands, you climb back into bed and fall asleep.

Monday morning you stroll into the library to work the front desk; your student job since you've been going here. Since it's spring break, it's very dead on campus. There's maybe one or two graduate students scattered about the whole building. You lean your head on your knuckles while you sit completely bored, staring at your computer screen with the list of overdue books. It's your job to send out reminder emails to everyone who needs to return what they've rented. No one is going to read them today, you figure. Everyone is on vacation…except you. You decided to stay behind and make some easy money.

“Hey!” You hear a voice sharply rip you from your wandering thoughts. It was harsh, like the owner of that voice had already tried at least once to get your attention. You look up to see him on the other side of the circulation desk.

Your jaw briefly drops, followed by a quick recovery. You swallow hard and straighten up. “Professor Kennedy! What can I do for you?” you ask, a little too eagerly.

He smirks meanly. “I'm looking for the Litigator's Handbook of Forensic Medicine, Psychiatry, and Psychology. Volume 2,” he states, as if he's pissed off that it's not already in his hands.

You nod and quickly type the name into your computer to find where the text is. Shit. “I'm sorry, Professor…all our copies are out right now.”

The professor glares at you, like it's somehow your fault. You look into more detail on who has the books and realize one is due back today. “There should be one available later today,” you add, but know very well there's a high chance it just won't get returned. Still, you're willing to say anything to make him happy.

His glare neutralizes into an unreadable expression. Then, with just a hint of a smirk he replies, “great. Bring it to my office then.” He turns and walks out before you can protest and tell him the library doesn't deliver.

But an idea pops into your head and sends a jolt of arousal to your sex. Maybe he'll be grateful for that delivery…

After trying numerous times to contact the professor who has the book you need, you finally get a hold of her and retrieve the book. With a big, dumb grin on your face, you high tail it over to Professor Kennedy’s office. You knock eagerly on his door.

“Come in,” he calls from inside his office, his tone neutral. You open the door and see him behind his desk typing into his computer, his expression unreadable.

“Professor Kennedy, I brought you the textbook you were looking for,” you announce. His office isn't much different than when you were in it last time…naked and getting deliciously fucked by him. Your pussy throbs at the memories that come rushing back.

He gestures with his hand to come toward him without looking up from his computer. You walk to him, holding the textbook.

“Desk,” he commands, still engrossed in whatever he's working on. You set the book down and turn to leave, convinced you're not going to make any worthy progress with him. You let out a silent sigh and head for the door. “Did I say you could leave?” He asks. You spin around. He's finally looking at you.

You stare back at him, mouth agape. “Wh-what?” Your heart starts to race; your palms sweat.

He lets out a snort. “Desk,” he repeats with the slightest smirk. His eyes flicker to the surface of his desk, the very same one where you just dropped the book.

You don't realize you're holding your breath as you walk toward him. Before you can even hop up on his desk he grabs your hips tightly and pins you between his body and the edge of the desk.

“Open your fucking mouth,” he demands.

Your lips part only just slightly and his tongue is inside your mouth, attacking yours. Your rational thought is quickly slipping away as your fingers tangle into his hair. His hands slip underneath the hem of your shirt, rubbing your bare waist with his thumbs. The tingles shooting through your body could make you jump out of your own skin. You suck on his tongue, the memory of his dick in your mouth rushing back into your mind.

He slides his hands up further, pushing your shirt with it. He breaks the kiss only for a second to pull your shirt over your head and toss it to the side before roughly grabbing your breast through your lace bra and claiming your mouth again. You reach behind yourself and unclasp your bra. Before you can move your hands, he grips your wrists tightly and holds them behind your back. He kisses, licks, and even bites down onto your neck. “Did you think I wouldn't fucking find out?” he asks with a gruff whisper in your ear. He nips at your neck again.

“Wh-what?” You manage to gasp out. Your head falls to one side, giving him better access to your neck.

He laughs meanly. “I have eyes and ears all over this school, sweetheart.” He gently kisses your neck. “Don't think for a second that you could get away with fucking some dumb ass frat boy without me knowing.” He nips at your pulse, dragging his teeth across your neck. “Don't move,” he commands darkly and lets go of your hands long enough to remove his tie and use it to secure your wrists behind your back. He cups your face, kissing you hungrily again. One hand slides down and cups your breasts. You feel his erection straining in his pants and pressing against your hip. “I think I need to teach you another lesson, sweetheart.” He breaks the kiss and smirks wickedly.

He pushes you down to your knees and slowly unbuckles his belt then tosses it aside. He unzips his pants and frees his cock - God, it's bigger than you remember. He strokes it a few times and shoves it into your waiting mouth. Hands grip the sides of your face, pushing you further onto his shaft. He combs your hair with his fingers, holding it all back with one hand fisted tightly, forming a handle with which he can control your head. “That's my good little slut. Suck my fucking cock,” he growls as he fucks your face. “You love this don't you? Letting me fuck you again and you're not even in my class. Fuck. I've been waiting to fuck you again for months. Can't stop thinking about your sweet mouth and your tight pussy,” he coos and gently runs a finger down the side of your face. You fight to hold back the tears pooling in your eyes as you resist gagging on the fat dick in your mouth.

But he's right. You do love it, you crave it, you need it. You suck him greedily, ecstatic to even have the chance to gag on his dick. Precum coats the back of your throat and you moan loudly. Your pussy is throbbing, aching to be touched but with your hands tied behind your back, you can't touch it. His grip on your hair tightens and it makes you wetter. You can tell he's close, but before he can cum, he pulls your face away. He pants, looking like he wants to say something but is at a loss for words. He growls and pulls you up, spins you around and shoves you over his desk. You feel your pants and panties being yanked off of you together. His chest presses against your back, holding you in place against his desk, still covered with papers. You glance to the side and see the textbook you brought; your ticket back to Professor Kennedy and his magnificent cock. He slides his cock between your thighs, gliding under your cunt. He's teasing you. His shaft is coated in your slick, so much so it's about to start dripping down his balls.

“You're so fucking wet, sweetheart. Gonna cum all over my cock before I've even fucked you?” He runs his hands all over your naked body, reminding himself of what he believes belongs to him.

“Please! Please! Please! Fuck me, Professor! Please! Fuck! I can't take it!” You beg, a few tears leaking from your eyes. You feel like you'll spontaneously combust if you don't feel his cock fill you up soon.

A loud smack fills the air followed by a stinging on your ass cheek. More slick gushes from your dripping wet sex. “Ah, ah, ah, sweetheart. You don't call the shots. I do. And you still need to learn your lesson. So, for now, I'm gonna fuck your cute little thighs…nice and slow.”

It's torture as you feel his length slide back and forth between your thighs, ghosting your clit and sending jolts of pleasure through you but not nearly enough to cum. Your moans fade into whimpers and crescendo back into moans.

He plays with you for a while, never increasing his pace. You're crying, you're so desperate for release. “Tell me, sweetheart, was it worth it? Fucking that worthless frat boy?” He slaps your ass again. “Did he make you cum?”

You bite your lip. “...no…”

He laughs, as if he already knew the answer but it made it that much sweeter to hear it from your own lips. His hand rubs up your back and slides around your throat, squeezing gently and turning you on even more. “Did you let him cum inside you?” He asks, his voice dark and devoid of any humor. You know he's not going to like your answer.

“...yes…” you confess; you're certainly in no position to lie to him. Another smack hits your ass cheek along with that delicious sting. You don't need to see his face to know he's pissed. He rubs the spot tenderly then slaps it once more.

“Learn your lesson yet, sweetheart?” He asks, delivering another slap. His hips continue to move his dick between your thighs at a snail's pace.

You cry out for release. “What!? What is it!? What am I supposed to learn!?”

Leon stops moving and positions the head of his cock at your entrance, locked and ready to fill you with one thrust. He grips your waist with both hands, tightly, to keep you from pushing your hips back and impaling yourself on his cock before he decides to give it to you. He leans in slowly and gently whispers in your ear, “that you're fucking mine.” With that, he slams his cock inside you, fucking you ruthlessly. Your eyes roll back into your head. Finally, the addicting sensation of being filled by him is yours to savor once again. His fat, long dick hits your cervix over and over, rubbing your g-spot perfectly. It doesn't take you long to cum, screaming his name, panting, and gasping as you catch your breath. He doesn't slow his pace; instead he maintains, fucking you hard and fast as your walls contract and relax around him. He draws out your orgasm, reaching around to squeeze your throat again with one hand and rubbing your clit with the other. Where you were just parched for pleasure, you're now overstimulated, between his hard and fast thrusts and his rough circles on your clit, you're about to combust yet again. He leans forward once more, biting and sucking on your neck, leaving deliberate marks. “In case any other fucking frat boys get any ideas about touching you,” he growls. You cum again, the pain and pleasure enough to send you over the edge a second time. You're covered in sweat and your body is sliding easily on his desk.

Leon slams his hips forward hard, sheathing himself balls deep inside you as he cums, his dick exploding with jizz all over the entrance to your womb. He holds you on the desk with his hands as the last globs of cum shoot out from his tip. Then, he leans down and tenderly kisses your neck. He helps you up from the desk, releases your hands from his tie, and even helps you dress.

“You know, if it's any consolation, I don't even remember that frat boy's name,” you admit.

“James C. Harold,” Leon rattles off without hesitation.

Your eyes widen. “How did you…?”

He leans in closer, looming over you. His smirk is nearly audible. “I had him expelled.” He hooks his finger into the waistband of your jeans and pulls you to him. “You. Are. Mine.” He growls then kisses you possessively. “Is that clear?”

[discordiansamba]

lee wakes up one morning and feels fantastic.

there's a spring to his step as he goes through his morning routine. his breakfast tastes even better than usual- it's like the rich, earthy taste of the miso soup has somehow become even more to his taste. he gets dressed in his favorite clothes- a deep, forest green robe that's also comfortable and easy to move in. he braids his hair, tying it off with a green ribbon and looks at himself in the mirror. his bangs are almost long enough now that they completely hide his scar.

he's lee.

it's an odd thought. of course he's lee. who else would he be? he doesn't dwell on it- nor does he dwell on the marked absence of the vague sense of dread that's plagued him ever since he'd served tea to princess azula. it's gone, a bone deep sense of contentment in its place. his life in ba sing se is simple, but it's a happy one- especially now that the fire nation is gone and things are going back to normal.

his good mood must be more obvious than he thinks, because everyone at the lotus blossom seems to notice. the owner asks him about it, and lee just shrugs. he doesn't really know, exactly- he'd just woken up this morning in a great mood. maybe he's just finally gotten used to his life here in the middle ring?

jin sees it too, when she visits on her lunch break. she can't always make her way over to the lotus blossom- the flower shop she works for is a good distance away from his tea shop- but she tries to make it whenever she can. he smiles at her, and some tiny part of his mind notes that it feels more natural than ever.

they kiss before she leaves, and the regulars and his coworkers alike tease them both. lee flushes and stares down at his feet, but he's not unhappy about it. the teasing used to make him feel a little testy, but it doesn't anymore. he knows they only do it because they earnestly want them both to be happy.

his father notices his good mood too.

"i don't know," lee shrugs, "-i just woke up this morning and felt like... me, i guess."

he laughs, because it sounds weird when he says it out loud- but his father only thoughtfully strokes his beard. he tells him that he's proud of him, and lee beams- he's not sure what he's done to earn his father's praise, but he certainly doesn't mind it. he feels... free, he thinks. like he's been trapped in a nightmare, and he's finally woken up.

(he doesn't black out that night.)

when he wakes up the next morning, he feels... settled. his father is up early, so he tries to explain it to him- and probably fails. he thinks moving to the middle ring has really been good for him. there was always something missing to his life in the lower ring, but he thinks... he thinks he can live the rest of his life happily here.

today's his day off. he has a date with jin. they arrange to meet at his favorite theater. they're running a new production- the valiant tale of how avatar aang defeated fire lord ozai, and how his companions put an end to the fire nation's planned airship assault. lee and jin watch as general iroh defeats princess azula in an agni kai, and ascends to the throne of fire lord- and declares an end to the war.

(lee doesn't twitch, even once.)

the theater goes up in cheers when the white lotus retake ba sing se- but the cheers are even louder when fire lord ozai falls, his bending taken. lee and jin are right there with them, and eagerly spend dinner chatting about the play. the adventures of the avatar and his friends sound so exciting- so distant from their simple life. lee briefly wonders what it would be like to travel, but then laughs the idea off.

ba sing se is his home. why would he ever want to leave it?

[faistoconnors]

ivy - A. Donaldson x Reader

Summary: Illicit affairs lead to uncertain endings

WC: 1k-ish

Warnings: infidelity (everyone is with everyone pretty much don't ask me), drinking (not a lot), secret affair, bastardized polycule, ask to tag

AN: I am having withdrawals really bad and can't tell if this is at all coherent. It hasn't been proofread, it hasn't been edited, and maybe I'll fix that later but for now I don't really feel like it! You guys can have my mess for now. Hope you like!!

How's one to know?

I'd meet you where the spirit meets the bones

In a faith forgotten land

In from the snow

Your touch brought forth an incandescent glow

Tarnished but so grand

The hotel room is always cold. Once, you’d tried another one, but it didn’t feel the same when you didn’t have to cling to his light. The window is slightly broken, glass pushed up out of its frame, cold seeping in around the edges.

And the old widow goes to the stone every day

But I don't, I just sit here and wait

Grieving for the living

The minutes tick by slowly, time seeming to slow as you anticipate him. This, of course, isn’t meant to last. Soon, life will return to how it was before, and you’ll sit quietly, heart mourning someone who hasn’t died, face displaying the placid expression of a good wife.

Oh, goddamn

My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand

Taking mine, but it's been promised to another

Fire and ice. Art always seemed to understand you, understand just what made you hurt and what made you smile. You could understand why he had been ice, with his cold hands matching the chill of the room. But the warmth he made you feel was more befitting of your husband’s title, really. 

Oh, I can't

Stop you putting roots in my dreamland

My house of stone, your ivy grows

And now I'm covered in you

One night, you laid at home, your husband beside you in bed snoring quietly. You’d been jolted awake, not by nightmare or bad dream, but by sheer longing. The dream had been so lifelike, so realistic, that for a moment, you’d thought you were at the Super 8 again. Art had moved so quietly into your life, like ivy creeping up the walls of the house you called home. Soon enough, without even realizing it,he had engulfed the house. He was home. 

I wish to know

The fatal flaw that makes you long to be

Magnificently cursed

It was a mystery why he’d chosen this. Art Donaldson had everything. His wife, his fame, his fortune… then again, it was hardly a mystery at all.

He's in the room

Your opal eyes are all I wish to see

He wants what's only yours

The gala for the Donaldson foundation was lively. Your husband’s arm wrapped around your waist, you moved about the room. People snapped pictures of you and the man, but most of the focus surrounded Art and Tashi, sitting at their table quietly talking under their breath. The man whose hand was rubbing at your back made no effort to hide the way his gaze was fixed on Mrs. Donaldson, and Art made no effort to hide the way he watched you. 

Oh, goddamn

My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand

Taking mine, but it's been promised to another

The hotel in Atlanta was plastered in posters of him, all blond hair and bright smiles. You watched as your husband and Tashi disappeared together out the door. It was only when you felt a set of fingers brush against yours that you turned around, saw the posters come to life. He was staring down at your left hand, at the huge rock weighing it down. 

“Where did they go?” was his first question, voice strained.

“Where didn’t they?” came your hushed voice. 

That was the first night you shared.

Oh, I can't

Stop you putting roots in my dreamland

My house of stone, your ivy grows

And now I'm covered

Clover blooms in the fields

Spring breaks loose, the time is near

What would he do if he found us out?

The door creaks open, breaking you out of your stupor. A flash of a smile, and he’s by your side before you can fully take him in. His hair is more manicured now, face drawn, the thirteen years between when you met and the present day showing up in more ways than one. 

Beneath the excitement, the thrill of it all, is an undercurrent of fear. As the snow outside begins to melt, Art and Patrick will return to tennis together, the unstoppable duo they once were. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll be caught, but your husband was never a stupid man. It’s mutually beneficial for all of you; you and Art will see each other behind your spouse’s backs, they will do the same, and the public will be none the wiser. Still, it has to stay an unspoken agreement. Patrick Zweig was never one to share. 

Crescent moon, coast is clear

Spring breaks loose, but so does fear

He's gonna burn this house to the ground

In the afterglow of it all, when you return home, you don’t think to clear your notifications. You don’t have his number saved, but when Patrick glances at the phone on the nightstand, he sees the words ‘Almost there. Same room, same time?’. Silence falls over the room.

How's one to know?

I'd live and die for moments that we stole

On begged and borrowed time

Two years pass by like a lightning flash. Neither of you try to reach out to each other. There will be no more stolen glances, no more nighttime rendezvous. Just memories, and the sensation in your heart that feels quite like a missing tooth. You’ll poke your tongue in the gap, and it will feel all wrong, space that shouldn’t be there at all. 

So tell me to run

Or dare to sit and watch what we'll become

And drink my husband's wine

When Tashi sends you and Patrick an invitation to dinner to ‘discuss plans for the future of the brand’, you’re hesitant, though you don’t show it. Patrick brings a bottle of his best wine, and you hover near the car for a beat too long, staring at the man you love.

Their garden is expansive, tall hedges and massive rosebushes winding a path down to a small, shallow pond. You reminisce on the time Patrick taught you to skip stones as you toss them across the still water, but the silence is quickly shattered by the shadow falling across the lawn beside you. 

“We could just leave,” comes his quiet voice in your ear. He’s tipsy, not drunk, but Art could never handle his liquor, or keep his mouth shut after a few drinks. “Just- just run, take a plane somewhere else. Far away.”

“It would be too messy, Art,” you whisper back. “The press, they’d go insane.”

“It’d die down soon enough,” he protests, gives a hiccup as you look over at him. 

“Artie baby. I’m sorry.”

Now I'm covered in you

In you

[championofthefade]

@valos-isatunoll

I’m going to apologize ahead of time if I lose you but Okam (Pinterest here for visual vibes) has been my baby since I was 14-15 so I have a lot of lore:

So the way Okam is set up is that we have 10 kingdoms. (Or queendoms)

Hedonia, Dawn. (Chill, Greek inspired, Love Wins, two queens)

Solaris, Day. (Not so chill, everyone’s stressed, motifs up the wazoo, queen and king)

Tyche, Dusk. (Central marketplace, most goods are traded from there, deserty vibes, but they are also chill, queen and king)

Kagami, Night. (Magic hub, scholarly with some hidden secrets of their own, queen and king consort)

Alvah, Light. (Innovation, Justice, uhhh I haven’t really thought about this, queen and king)

Cyfrin, Dark. (More magic but they’re mostly cast in shadow as they are still “new” to the fold, king and queen)

Elwyn, Spring. (Very Tolkieny, two kings, very lush, vibrant. One of my favorite little guys live here)

Iris, Summer. (One queen and her wife advisor. Pirates, mermaids, I love this place)

Demir, Autumn. (Vampires, king is dying from his curse so the queen attends in his stead, they’re strongly allied with Eirlys)

Eirlys, Winter. (One queen and the advisor she’s into but has a complicated way of showing love, winter wonderland gone wrong, do not go to the heart of Eirlys it’s too cold over there and totally not hiding secrets)

Solaris (Day Court, etc) acts as the High Throne over the rest of the kingdoms. The royal family of Solaris is made up of Sadira (High Queen, her crown, her throne), Theon (high king, warmonger, only king by name), Thea (eldest and would have been the heir but stepped down to pursue happiness), Alban and Enver (they’re “twins” and this is the succession crisis) Celena (fucked off with a pirate captain) and Asteria (has a thing with a guardsman).

In this particular instance (of where the story begins) we’ve been playing with the idea that the High King (tyrant or dead haven’t decided) has called on the Grand Trials (working name) in order to settle a peace between the kingdoms (five vs five war was going on for too long and this is how they decide to settle it) and that’s where the selection vibes and what not come in. Take four competitors from each kingdom to contend for the throne as High Queen. There are tasks for them to compete (death happens along the way, only the strongest will survives kind of deal).

Now the family trees hinge on the celestials because in this world there are celestialborns (born of two celestials but you get the idea). Celestials =/= gods, just really powerful and really old beings that helped shape this world we’re in (Phennidore has been its name for so long but im working on changing it). So within the High Council (made up of the rulers of each kingdom) there are actually celestials leftover from a war that ended in betrayal and resulted in celestials vanishing or dying. They have been around for a very long time, and the ones that we learn are celestials (idk if it’s a big reveal still working on that) have been observing from a distance and weren’t involve in anything before (sadira’s grand trials were a bloodbath and we’re trying to figure out how to incorporate that into either a prequel or word of mouth type delivery).

This in mind: Hedonia’s family trees hinge on does a weird break off before the current set of royals and their family. Other than that, everything is pretty straightforward?

Actually no, Eirlys and Alvah has something going on with it too. Because the current ruler of Eirlys is celestialborn (she was a twin, twin had a sapphic thing going on after one of the main characters were like 2, twin died to free a celestial, celestial went on a cursing spree due to rage and grief).

Alvah is similar to Hedonia in terms of family trees hinge on breaking off and starting somewhere else.

[waterfire1848]

AU where instead of a war, there's a World Tournament where all Four Nations send their strongest benders to compete to be crowned champion. This year, Azula and Katara are old enough to compete.

Hello, @wingchunwaterbender !!!!

1. The World Tournament is a series of games and challenges against the four strongest benders in the world. It’s always a bit of a toss up as to who will win because sometimes the winner has a special trick up their sleeve (like the year a firebender was also a lightning bender) or they work smarter (like the year an earthbender used seismic sense to figure out what position everyone was getting in before they attacked), etc. Basically, it’s never set in stone as to what nation will win but the four competitors are always announced in the dead of winter because the tournament takes place year long (so as not to give firebenders or waterbenders an unfair advantage). This year the competitors are: Toph Beifong for earthbending (who might have fudged a little paperwork and said she was old enough to fight), some guy for airbending, Katara for waterbending, and Azula for firebending (making her to first of the royal family to go to the tournament).

2. Katara being chosen doesn’t sit right with the North Pole, seeing as how they think a man should be competing but Katara did prove herself as the best waterbending(having trained under the best masters in the south and north including Hama). She wants to win to show the North Pole that women can fight and to show the world that the South Pole matters since someone from the South Pole has never won. Azula entered the race to be picked in secret because there’s a good chance that competitors get seriously hurt or killed. She won (because of course she did) and her parents agreed to let her go. However, her father made a deal with her. If she wins then she doesn’t have to go into her arranged marriage but if she loses then she’ll go right into wedding planning when she returns. Needless to say, both really want to win.

3. The tournament consists of twenty different events and a tiebreaker if needed starting in winter and ending right before winter begins. The events are held in the Earth Kingdom. When Katara and Azula arrive, they arrive very differently. Katara comes in with her mom and brother but no one else. Azula arrives with the Fire Nation royal precession making Katara instantly assumes she’s some bratty princess. (Katara: How is she supposed to fight? Isn’t she worried she’ll break a finger nail. Sokka: At least you don’t have to worry about princess over there.). Azula and Katara don’t talk until after the first event when Azula grabs Katara’s leg with a fire whip and tosses her. Katara gets mad because she says it’s a fowl but Azula argues that it’s just a creative style of bending and it’s ruled that way by the referee. Katara and Azula’s rivalry begins then.

4. Azula and Katara start competing personally at every event. It gets so intense that people are making bets between the two of them as opposed to all four competitors. By spring, the airbender is eliminated. By summer, Toph is eliminated but with Toph being eliminated comes Azula being suspended because she burned Toph’s feet. Toph is unable to play but Azula’s maneuver was against the rules. Katara gains the ability to pulls ahead and win but the day after the incident, she hears Azula and Zuko arguing and Azula angrily yelling about how she’ll have to get married to some old guy now and live her life on some remote island as his wife and nothing more. Katara finds Azula later and talks to her. While Azula doesn’t want pity, Katara does give her some kindness and comfort which does make Azula feel a bit better. Katara agrees that she’ll leave the match open which basically means that both of them still have a good chance to win.

5. Katara and Azula continue competing and by the final event its neck and neck. Throughout this time, they’ve also grown closer and became good friends. The night before the final event, Katara kisses Azula which makes the following day very awkward because Katara doesn’t want to beat Azula and make her marry someone else and Azula doesn’t want to beat Katara and keep her from bringing respect to her nation and showing up the Northern Water Tribe. In the final event, Katara has the opportunity to win but as she’s doing it she finds that she can’t take the final shot and Azula wins. After the event, Azula tries to say that she should be the winner because she had the shot but Katara argues against her. Katara knows she brought respect to the South Pole by making it this far and showed up the North Pole’s sexism. She didn’t need the champion title. (Katara: Now that the games are over and you don’t have a wedding to get to, how about we head the South Pole for a few days? Azula: Excellent choice. I hear it’s the home of almost champion of the World Tournament Master Katara. Katara: 😊)

[thelov3lybookworm]

Delusional

day 5: masquerade

Summary: First time visiting a masquerade ball.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: just some lil fluff for @tamlinweek hehe

enjoyy!!

"Are you enjoying the ball, lady?"

Y/n jumped, turning to find a handsome young man- she assumed he was handsome, considering half his face was covered by a mask- leaning against the wall.

"Um, yes, my lord. How about yourself, are you enjoying it?"

He grinned. "You could say that."

Y/n stared at him.

He stared back.

Y/n blinked.

He blinked back.

Y/n's mother had not warned her about how awkward small talk could get. She cursed inwardly, wondering what to say to break the silence when he spoke again.

"Is it your first time attending a party?"

Y/n sighed quietly, nodding as she felt her lashes brush against the mask she wore, a dark green satin with embroidered flowers and vines, pearls of different sizes woven into the soft material resting snugly on her features.

"Yes. my lord. Is it your first too?"

He pushed off from the wall. "Not really, no. Officially? Yes, its the fist time I'm attending a party."

"And how is that?"

"You see, no one really cares to see if the youngest son sleeps as instructed when an event takes place."

Y/n blinked, and then the realisation dawned upon her. "You- you're the high lord's youngest son!"

"Oh hush, be quiet. I had to shake off so many people and sneak around to get one breath of relief. You screaming will lure them back."

Y/n stared at him, her eyes wide.

She was talking to a possible heir of the spring court.

Oh mother, boil me.

Y/n could do nothing but watch as he glanced around, fixing his coat and then sighed. "So. This brings us back to the question I had in mind. Do you want to leave?"

Y/n did a double take, gaping. "I- leave?"

He flashed her a dashing smile. "Leave."

"I- I don't think that's a good idea my lord-"

"Don't worry, I wont bite." He winked. "Unless you want me to."

The faelight glinted off his slightly sharp canine, and a shiver wound its way down Y/n's spine. "I..."

"Its nowhere far, despite what I wish. We'll just go into the gardens and talk. Better than laughing at the everyone's unfunny jokes, don't you think? And you don't have to reveal your identity either! Keep your mask on, and I will never know if you don't want me to."

Y/n nodded hesitantly, worrying her lower lip as she glanced around.

Just before she was about to turn back to the High lord's son, her eyes met her mothers, and instead of reprimand in her eyes, all she saw was stern encouragement as she nodded her head towards the door.

Swallowing, Y/n gestured at the male- what was his name again? Terrance? Thomas?- to lead the way.

"So, you are..." He glanced at her hopefully as he walked next to her through the empty hallways, and she stared back indifferently.

"Rose."

He grinned, mischief in his eyes. "That's not your real name, is it?"

Y/n simply hummed, looking away from him to take in the massive hallways, filled with unnecessary expensive items.

He laughed. "Stubborn. I like it."

Y/n resisted the urge to roll her eyes, following him into the open air or the sweet smelling gardens.

The night passed quick as Y/n lost herself to the fragrance of roses and jasmine, and maybe also in the sound of his voice as it resonated deep in Y/n's being.

And maybe Y/n was mistaken, maybe she was delusional, but she could have sworn she saw him staring at her lips more than a couple of times.

She was just delusional.

Or was she?

The Mother was definitely laughing, knowing that son enough Y/n would be arranged to be married to him.

Acotar Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1 @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21 @mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @eve175 @starsinyourseyes @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @byyalady @lilah-asteria @girlswithimagination @gardenofrunar

[hintons]

november fic round up

had a busy november! all the fics that got updated and posted:

The Jacket Exchange: A Dallas Winston/Ponyboy Curtis Ship Manifesto — updated this, and addressed the musical. [chapter eight] exodus to eden — At the bottom of Jay Mountain lay the town Jasper. It wasn't a very big town — just enough to have its own zip code, a few neighborhoods within spitting distance of each other, more than one store, two movie theaters, three gas stations, two diners, and a host of various other locations solely meant to cater to the tourists that came through whether they be people entranced with the wildlife on Jay Mountain or wanting to indulge in skiing or other pursuit. [chapter ten here]

abel was no lamb, he was my brother — When Darry had envisioned everything, the day that he brought Ponyboy home, he thought it would be something he would remember for the rest of his life. It was a simple fantasy, the only one he allowed himself in the years as leads went cold, as life wore on, as things went on. [chapter three & four]

rain or shine — There's a fascination to Ponyboy's gaze whenever Dallas does something that he deems very human, whether it be the small signals of Dallas' oncoming ruts or cutting his fingernails or recently, shaving his facial hair until it's more manageable if not gone; those things seem to fascinate him endlessly, tracking whenever they happen with surprise and interest that is more than odd for Dallas.

nocturnal animals — "You keep eating that burger like that and you're gonna choke," Dallas says, leaning back as Ponyboy continues to tear into it, the cigarette behind his ear sticking out. Snow continues to fall in a steady pace through the windows, making shadows on his face. [chapter four]

pathways — The flowers in Ponyboy's hair makes him resemble those hippies that Angela saw on television or saw in magazines, his hair so long that he could almost be mistaken for one of those people — except he has no message about Vietnam, has no words coming out of his mouth talking about a guru and she's starting to believe a snake would look at home with him.

radiant — It was all Ponyboy could do, to give her the little food he had. His mother, who'd been so radiant, so gold was now almost a husk of herself. For once, she didn't turn him down for the offer, eating slowly, quietly in the living room. It had been six long, lonely months in that prison and it showed on every inch of her.

fire in the sky — "Mr. Curtis, please see me after class," Mr. Syme says as he places Ponyboy's quiz down in front of him, face down. Shit, that wasn't good.

Ponyboy feels dread creeping up his spine as Mr. Syme continues to pass back the quizzes to everyone. The looks he's getting from other students vary from amused to concerned — pity, really. Being in an honors class did that and as soon as Mr. Syme gets to the front of the class, Ponyboy peeks at his paper.

A B- stares up at him. [chapter 79 to 81]

summer nights — The music keeps going in the barn, and Dallas keeps tasting like bourbon as Ponyboy keeps on kissing him, keeps on letting Dallas get his hand around Ponyboy's belt.

in the dollhouse — Tulsa, 1967. It's the last spring break before Ponyboy goes to college. He's got more worries than what he thought he'd have, including his relationship with Dallas Winston. All he wants to do is have one last party before he goes to a future he's more than earned.

Too bad that the boardgame he brought to the party is not just a boardgame. It's a matter of life and death, to play against Julian. And it's not just Ponyboy who's a player in this game, but the whole gang, or what's left of it. They just have to survive their own nightmares, one by one and hope they'll all wake up in the morning, the victors.

get busy living, or get busy dying — Six months after Johnny dies, the prodigal son of Tulsa comes back home. Dallas has never exchanged more than two sentences with him. But… Ponyboy seems like a good place to start putting himself back together. [this is currently listed as anon until the wanksgiving 2024 event is over on 12.5.24!]

[angelofrainfrogs]

Break My Mind: Ch. 4

~Coauthored by @zeitghest~

Fandom(s): Five Nights At Freddy’s: Security Breach

Description: Gregory must be dreaming this time. No sooner had he come to accept this strange reality where everyone is alive and well, than he’s sent back through time and space to the weekend he got trapped in the Pizzaplex. He’s supposed to help his family get on track for a better future, yet… didn’t he already succeed in his own timeline? Confused but relieved, Gregory drops back into his new life in the mega mall. In fact, who should be waiting for him but Michael, clad in a security uniform and searching for his missing family! Only—the night guard seems a bit more withered than when Gregory last saw him. Not to mention that cold look in his silver eyes…

Rating: T

Read on Ao3

William had let a toolbox drop loudly on the table as he heard Henry’s stark explanation. If Michael hadn't made the eye roll-inducing, incredibly stupid mistake of shoving his Remnant father inside what was essentially steel armor, he might've protested the choice of killing his son. Still, the same boy he used to feed and tell stories to—the boy that people had compared him to for years was a monster. One he should have rid their lives of long ago.

Charlie might not care much for William. Not since his drunken incident... But she was still a bleeding heart. Running a hand through her short and choppy hair, she quietly asked: “You alright, Will…?”

“—Fine. I'm fine,” he insisted, stepping away from the workbench to quickly avoid the discussion. “Let's not speak of it. Gregory, come here, my boy. We should wrap your wrist before the bone sets strangely. Henry? Be a lamb and help me unroll this gauze. My fingers are too round...” Will spoke with a smile in his voice as he tried to focus on the silliness of the situation, pushing the deep-set anxiety and fear of his son far down in his blackened heart.  

Will was good with kids. There was a reason Henry had decided to open a children’s entertainment venture with him, after all. He just… wasn’t the best with them all the time. Especially his own.

“I’ve got you,” Henry told him, coming over to assist trying not to dwell on how he’d repeated that statement at nauseam over the years.

“Henry, will you take a second look at these blueprints for me?”

I’ve got you.

“Hen, we need to order more supplies; our stock’s run low.”

I’ve got you.

“Old sport, do you think you could watch my little ones for a bit? I have to get these designs finalized by tomorrow…”

I’ve got you.

“Henry… I-I’m so sorry, I… there’s been an accident…”

I—

I can’t stand you anymore.

That was when it had all ended, their relationship torn apart and never fully repairable. But now, sometimes, flashes of the old William came through… and it was those moments Henry clung to that let him know the good friend he remembered hadn’t always been a figment of his imagination.

“Here, Greg—” With the gauze sufficiently unrolled, Henry glanced to the boy watching him with that intense, silver stare. “—Will’s going to hold your wrist while I wrap it. This’ll hurt, but try not to yell, okay? Bite your shirt or something if you need to scream. We don’t want to attract attention.”

As Charlie, independent as she was, worked on her arm alone, she watched her dad and uncle interact with Gregory. William carefully kneeled as the child trusted the flat of his palm to his fuzzy grasp. The Puppet intervened to help Charlotte, diverting her attention. Her leg springs certainly needed tuning, but for now, Puppet got to work on setting Charlie’s arm back into its own joint. Her friend’s mind just seemed to be in a different state; the last thing Marionette wanted was for her to accidentally severe another connection by accident.

All Charlie could think of was a simple question with no easy answer: why was it so easy for William to be this good person now?

One fateful day it had to be her that he took his anger out on. Sure, she’d be the first to admit that maybe she'd overstepped and made her former uncle mad.

But she thought he loved her like family.

Her gaze was far-off and distant as she observed the tender way that William worked with both her father and their new friend. When Gregory looked as if he was about to cry, a hand shot up to caress the boy's cheek.

“Gregory—I don’t know if you know this, but the last time I got hurt, I told my dog about it,” William began, successfully getting Gregory’s mind away from the pain as Henry wrapped his tender wrist. “Yep—you know what the mutt said to me? He told me: ruff.” He spoke in a deadpan as the tears dissolved in Gregory’s eyes, pain replaced by laughter.

It was so strange how William operated sometimes. As if his own body was haunted by the person he once was, in moments of hardship supporting their little group, only to turn and become cold-hearted the next minute...

The sheer ridiculousness of the joke made Henry snort, though he was quick to correct when William turned that cheerful rabbit face on him.

“I’m not laughing because it was good, I’m laughing because it was so dumb,” Henry insisted, though that sort of stupid humor seemed to be just the thing Gregory needed right now. Will had successfully curbed the tears before they came, and soon Henry was putting the final piece of tape on the gauze to hold it in place. He gave Gregory’s hair another ruffle and stepped back. “Alright, kiddo—all done. Just try to keep pressure off that wrist and it should heal up nicely.”

Turning to check on his daughter, he was pleasantly surprised to see Charlie moving both arms now.

“Oh, fantastic job, sweetheart!” he praised, coming over and lifting her arm to make sure all the joints were functioning properly. “Look at you—a natural mechanic. Makes me a proud papa bear, I’ll tell you that.”

He sniffled loudly and wiped a metaphorical tear from Freddy’s grubby face. Even the forlorn Henry Emily could be funny when the time called for it.

...Henry was a bad liar; always had been. That was why William handled PR and customer service at the diner back in their heydays. Will knew that dumb puns were some of his favorites, even if Emily would never admit to it.

Charlie was distracted momentarily in her work as her father approached her. It was a good thing too; she was going to snap the screwdriver in hand using if she didn’t calm down.

“I learned from the best,” Charlie reminded, side-eyeing Henry with pride. She redirected her anger into something productive—something she could physically fix and see the change in. “Mike really whipped Puppet around badly. She was completely missing screws for her leg joints…”

How Michael was still so fucking resilient after all these years, Henry had no idea. With all the things his rotting body had been through, it was a wonder he still had all his limbs intact. Henry would hate to see the state of him under all those bandages, especially if that glimpse of his face earlier was anything to go by…

“Sorry we let him get you, Puppet,” Henry apologized, his heart going out to the ever-protective robot. In a way, by this point she was like another daughter to him—silent and watchful, the Marionette kept tabs on her big sister’s whereabouts and made sure she was safe. Peering closer at Charlie’s handiwork, Henry gave an approving nod. “Looking good, though! You’ll be back on those legs in no time.”  

The Marionette just gave a little shrug. It was her job after all. It didn't matter how many times she broke for the people she loved. As long as they were all collectively okay, then the robot considered her mission successful. Were it not for her and Charlie's unintentional fusion all those years ago, maybe she would've given up—accepted long ago that her purpose had long-since been rendered obsolete. The Puppet waved her lanky hand, attempting to tell Henry not to worry as Charlie found another replacement bolt for her thin joints.

Gregory inspected his bandages, wiggling his fingers experimentally. The swelling had gone down, but with his wrist still immobile, it left Gregory to wonder how long it’d take for the Remnant to help fix the break. Reasonably, it’d only been an hour since his incident with Mike. But Gregory was impatient.

The more he ruminated on Michael's violence towards him, the more his resentment was beginning to grow for the man. Especially as he saw what Mike was doing to the people around him.

What made the Aftons like this? Gregory was far from any armchair psychologist—even he knew that some things like violence just run in the family. Still, though... it hurt to see it happening to someone he loved so fiercely in other circumstances.

“You look mad—are your bandages not tight enough?” asked William, pulling Gregory from the rage he seemed to be stewing in. 

“Huh?” the boy asked before actually being able to process what he'd been asked. “No—No, they're great. Thanks for helping with that... I'm just still pissed that Mike tricked me still.”

He was surprised when William placed a careful, plush hand to his shoulder. “Good. Use that anger. Learn from it. Don't let him trick you again.”

“But don’t let it fester,” Henry had to add, sparing a glance over his shoulder. He hadn’t meant to listen in, but they were in a small space after all. Moving back to Gregory’s side, he gently rested a paw on top of his head. “Use the anger, yeah—it’ll help get you past any hang-ups when it comes time to face him. Just… don’t get too lost in it, alright?”

The last thing they needed was another psychotic Remnant-infused kid on their hands….

Henry could see William shifting out of the corner of his eye, but before he could say anything there was a loud bang on the sealed door. Everyone whipped around to stare at the thick metal as a familiar voice came through, muffled but insistent.

“Guys, come on…” Michael sounded half-tired, half-amused. “I’m impressed you tricked Freddy, I’ve got to admit… but there’s only so much you can hide. He’s a smart bear, after all. Now will you open the damn door and hand over the kid?”

“Shit!” Henry hissed, instinctively snatching Gregory into his arms. “Damn it—we need to get out of here now.”

The way they came in was clearly out of the question—who knew how many robot lackeys Michael had by his side. But hopefully that would mean the back way through the stage lift was uninhabited…

Charlie had run out of time to fix her Puppet. There were still so many weak points in her legs. It wouldn't be long until Michael figured out how to bypass the door—being a security guard meant he had unfiltered access anywhere.

“Keep him busy—” Charlie whispered harshly to the others, trying to buy time with money they didn't have.

Gregory's eyes widened at the intrusion. He thought they would be safe here, but Michael turned out to be a much more active enemy to have. It was a shame there was no room for compromise in his heart.

William stood up, moving towards the door as he would say with a roll of his eyes. “What makes you think we have the kid?”

Gregory knew they had to do something. Maybe... Maybe that room was still here; the unused storage space that Vanessa and William bastardized in his own timeline. He scampered to the far side of the room, looking for that fake wall behind the mostly barren shelving unit, pulling manual after manual off the shelves looking for the false one that would open the door.

Michael was busy patting down his pockets in search of the access card he needed. The Master Key would be able to unlock any door, no problem—he just had to find it first. The sound of William’s voice made him pause to let out a scoff.

“Father, please—do you think I’m stupid? I know you’re not letting that little Evan-clone out of your sight again until you’re decommissioned.”

Which Michael would very, very much like to do once he got this damn door open…

“Fuck!” the guard shrieked in a sudden bout of rage, throwing his hands in the air only to slam them hard against the door. Turning to Glamrock Freddy, who was watching him with a concerned tilt in his brow, Michael gave the bear his instructions. “I left the fucking key in my jacket; I’ve got to run back to the office, but you start trying passcodes on the keypad; I don’t remember the stupid code. Do not leave this spot until either I get back or you get in—understand?”

“Yes, Officer Michael,” Freddy replied, nodding his head in deferment.

With an annoyed click of his tongue Michael sped off, shoes pattering against the tiled floor of the Pizzaplex. As asked, Freddy immediately set to work cracking the code for Parts & Service. There was a child inside who needed his help, and he was going to reach him—along with that false rabbit who dared take on Bonnie’s likeness.

William laughed to himself, hands on his stomach as he felt his disintegrating rib bones bend at the effort.

“No, Michael, I know you're stupid—” He'd say as he heard Mike speeding off, as that was something he himself could see him doing. Going towards Gregory, who'd been frantically throwing books and manuals off one of the shelves, he placed a firm hand on the kid's shoulders.

“Calm down,” William intoned, seeing how worked up he was getting. Those few extra seconds spared to them might help in the long run.

“There was a room here! I-I thought maybe....” Gregory attempted to explain, upon seeing the lost look in William's tired and milky stare.

“Son...,” William began, wincing when Gregory began to look desperate. “You can't run from all your problems forever. Sometimes, you have to face them head on. Even if it's scary.”

Before Gregory could protest the idea of fighting Michael, Charlie closed up the Puppet's fabric outer lining, shouting to them that she was all done.

“The stage lift!” Henry exclaimed, frantically pointing in that direction. “If it still works, we can take it up and give them another runaround—buy us some more time!”

Freddy heard the shout, redoubling his efforts to crack the code. He should be able to figure it out with no problem due to his logical processors, but there was this haze in his electric brain that made it hard to access that feature. It seemed Michael’s need for total control had some downsides.

“Do not go anywhere!” he called, blue-tipped claws working tirelessly punching in one number combination after another. “You must come with me, superstar—I only want to keep you safe!”

“Ignore him,” Henry snapped, ushering the group forward. Now that Puppet was functional, she could speed along with Charlie and offer some extra help to guide Gregory on the right path. “If the stage lift works, we go. If not…” His bear face grimaced with all the emotion it could.

If not… they’d have to strong-arm their way past Freddy.

Freddy's voice was convincing, genuinely upset that he couldn't get to him. It broke Gregory's heart to tell the bear “no” when it sounded as if he only had the best intentions for him. Gregory knew by now that this was a mirage, a trick orchestrated under Michael's tyrannical rule.

“I-I'm sorry Freddy!” Gregory called, William scolding him to be quiet as he snatched him up into his arms. “I don't trust Michael—”

“Change of plans—run. We're running now,” Will corrected, looking back over his shoulder as they stepped onto the platform. “How the hell do we get this thing moving, then?”

Charlie knew this would probably be a bad idea; the standing controls were over past the workbench. Abandoning her group, Charlie raced for the controls as William and Henry stepped upon it. It was all ready to launch. All she had to do was slam the button...

Charlie smacked the giant green button with her palm. A pneumatic hiss jolted the platform and sent them at a measure pace above. Far too fast for her to sprint and jump onto it, she watched her family lift above.

“I'll find another way!” she assured them, much to every member of their party’s protests.

“Charlie?! Charlie, god damn it!” Henry shouted, reaching out to grab her. He was stopped from going over the edge at the last second by William's firm grip on his arm, and Henry could only watch as his daughter shrunk out of sight. He shook his head, muttering as he paced towards the center of the platform. “Damn it, she's going to be with them alone! I've got to go back for her; we can't leave her with Michael when he's so pissed...”

As if summoned by his name, the other door to Parts & Service opened with a sudden hiss. Michael was back with the access card, practically shoving Freddy out of the way in his haste to get to the others... but his efforts were in vain. He let out a growl of frustration, seeing the stage lift already slotting into place above. Again, they'd just barely escaped his reach.

Well... not everyone, it seemed.

“Hello, Charlie,” Michael sneered, fixating on his former friend-turned-robot. He'd forgone the mask now, seeing no point in wearing it since Gregory had already gotten a clear view of his rotted face. He'd given up the amiable convincing angle of recruitment—now Michael was hell-bent on brainwashing the kid by force using any means necessary.

And if he could take out a big piece of the competition right now, that would help his cause greatly.

***

The Puppet looked about ready to jump off the platform after Charlie. The fall would ruin any chance of her landing safely without breaking a second time, so Henry was quick to snag a spindly arm while she writhed on the floor, reaching for the person she couldn’t grab as Henry lamented her departure. When the platform slotted into place up top on the main floor, the moment Henry’s grip eased Puppet shot off like a bullet without a word. Their group was scattered, and William growled impatiently.

“Why the hell did she do that?! We could’ve fought them together! DUMB—” William fretted, holding the worried Gregory tightly as he jumped from the stage and into the food court. “Stupid... UGH! We have to get Gregory to safety.”

“I'm not leaving without Charlie!” Gregory hissed, looking back to the stage, fighting William's hold on him as they both struggled for dominance.

“Like fuck you will; Henry, let's go!” the rabbit snapped harshly. The child clearly still didn’t understand the gravity of the situation. Charlie's body may be broken, but in the end, her soul would still be here. Gregory could be lost to them forever should they go back to save Henry's daughter. It all felt like a catch-22, as refusing to save either made William feel...

Well—like a murderer.

Henry was nearly beside himself with conflicted thoughts. William’s line of thinking was valid: Charlie's soul was forever tied to this place so long as Michael was still around to cause chaos. But the thought of seeing his daughter's broken, lifeless body again just—

“...Let's go. We have to keep moving.” He made the decision with a hardened gaze, brushing Gregory's hair as he sped past to take the lead in a quick attempt to soothe. “Puppet's going to help her; she'll be alright. We need to find cover before someone else spots us—I don't doubt Michael will call for backup as soon as he realizes we're gone.”

William couldn't help but feel as if he was failing the Emilys once again with his actions. He tried to tell himself that this was the necessary course, despite how it made him feel.

“Charlie's going to be alright. Alright?” he tried to assure the last two remaining members of their little party. Quickly, he followed Henry, their path unknown. It was merely a matter of moving undetected now.

Gregory didn't care how badly these strange-looking suits smelled. He buried his face away in William's chest to chase away the sight of potential Glamrocks coming to harass them further. Henry told him he was brave... And Gregory wouldn't scream if he didn't actually see any danger heading their way.

If Henry remembered correctly from their previous forays through the Pizzaplex, there was a small storage room behind one of the food stalls on the first level. It wouldn't provide much in the way of protection, but the sheer amount of stuff in there should give amble cover to hide out a little while. Henry led his companions there, only spotting another animatronic at the last second when they rounded a corner. It looked like a flash of grey fur, though he couldn't be certain—and he wasn't going to stay and find out.

Once the trio were inside the room Henry shut the door, shoving a broom through the handles for good measure before ushering them to the far back. Only then did he sit heavily, taking a second to process as he put his face in his paws.

Charlie would be alright.

She was strong, and so was Puppet—together, they were unstoppable.

***

Charlie whipped around as the door swung out of the way. Squatted in a defensive position, she was ready to break into a run at a moment’s notice.

Michael... She had mixed feelings on the guy. Roughly, he was on the same metaphorical par as his father in terms of how much she wanted to punch their lights out. Repeatedly.

“Mike...” Charlie was unsure of the fate that might befall her now. She doubted Michael missed her—hell, he barely missed his own brother after his untimely passing. Though she’d much rather have backup to dole out revenge, it might be necessary to act on her own here and now to save Gregory. She would not let another child die on Fazbear property, no matter the cost.

“Look, Charlie,” Michael began, crossing his arms and slouching slightly to one side. “I don't know why you're still involved in all this—William got an even more tortuous death than you and he's going to rot in that suit for eternity. I made sure of that.”

There was a hint of a truly deranged smile curling the edges of his lips now, those eerie silver eyes locked onto Charlie's own.

“Why don't you just rest? Give up the ghost, so to speak.” Michael let out a soft chuckle at his off-color pun. “I don't want to hurt you again... but I will if you keep getting in my—Freddy, will you stop fucking pacing?!”

Michael suddenly snapped his head to the side, staring down the Glamrock who'd frozen in his tracks. Wide-eyed, Freddy clasped his claws in front of his torso and hung his head, hating that he'd somehow annoyed the guard yet again.

“I am sorry, Officer Michael—I am simply worried about Gregory,” he confessed, and though his words seemed genuine there was a hint of something dark in his eyes. “I do not trust those older models—they are broken, and I fear they cause a great threat to his well-being.”

“That's so true, Fredbear!” Michael replied, sounding as if he was talking to a small child. “Which is why we're trying to get rid of them. And I need your help again—hold Charlie back while I get a head start, will you? They can't have gotten far.”

Freddy was more than happy to comply, nodding as he turned his full attention to Charlie and started towards her with arms outstretched.

Charlie couldn't get a word in edgewise with Michael's psychotic monologuing. She screamed and nearly ran in place as she tried to avoid Freddy's once-gentle arms.

“Don't! We're not your enemies!” she said, though there was no convincing the well-meaning bear. He nearly knocked the unneeded wind out of her with his grasp, her back now pressed against Freddy's chest as he hoisted her into the air.

“MIKE! Please! Please don't do this to Gregory—he's just a kid!” She nearly sobbed from the futility of it all. “Don't hurt him anymore! This can all end tonight if you just—” Charlie pleaded, but her chest plating felt it might burst if she kept struggling and talking in vain. Freddy's grip was like an iron vice, clearly seeing her as a threat at Michael's command.

“I won't hurt him if he stops being a little shit,” Michael responded simply. Satisfied that Freddy had her, the guard turned and began walking off, taking the long way around to the main floor. As the bear followed obediently, Mike lifted his Fazwatch to his mouth—it'd been specially altered to connect to all the Glamrocks so he could control them more easily. “Everyone, the kid's somewhere in the main atrium. I want him captured and brought to me now—use force if necessary.”

There was a chorus of responding growls and affirmations, causing Michael to smirk as he lowered his arm. No way was the kid getting away now.

In Freddy's custody, an annoyed scowl stretched across Charlie’s face as Mike led the two of them towards the surface.

“Could you tell your teddy bear to stop squeezing me so hard?” Charlie joked darkly. “Feels like I'm being strangled again—it's not like I can go anywhere even if I slipped out.”

“I am sorry—”

“Freddy, don't apologize,” Michael snapped, cutting the bear off. “You're not actually hurting her, she's just whining.”

Freddy fell silent, though he did loosen his grip just a tad. Not nearly enough for Charlie to wriggle lose, but enough to not risk crushing some metallic ribs.

This was all for Gregory's benefit, he kept reminding himself. Michael was a guard and had the child's best interests at heart, despite his... abrasive nature. Surely that had to be the case—why else would he be doing all this?

“You're such a bastard, Mike,” Charlie groaned, head hanging forward as she felt less claustrophobic without the unneeded grip around her chest. Now that she could take in more simulated breaths, she tried to goad him into talking more—the best option was to waste his time in favor of buying her friends some instead. “You're wasting your energy, too. We're going to get Gregory out of here. Just you wait...”

Suddenly, there was a skittering ahead; the sounds of something quick hitting the ground in a short run. Whatever it was had darted out of sight, disturbing their walk for just one moment. Charlie felt her mechanical heart kickstart—but, in rare form, not from fear.

“Oh... Oh man, Mike, you fucked up now,” Charlie warned, cryptic as she smirked to herself. She just prayed her hero would be quick, hopefully learning her previous lesson when dealing with Michael Afton...

“What?” With narrowed eyes, Michael peered through the darkness for the new foe. He’d heard that sound far too many times to have any doubt as to what it belonged to.

“Ugh, don’t tell me you got that hunk of junk working again…,” he groaned, slowing his pace ever so slightly and unhooking his taser from its holster. The Puppet caught him unaware last time, and he’d nearly gotten his own limbs ripped off in her frantic scramble for power. She might look skinny and harmless, but she was really fucking tough.

“Freddy, don’t let Charlie go no matter what happens,” Michael said, not even bothering to turn around. He knew the bear heard and would do as he was told. Freddy trusted him implicitly, after all—Mike had made sure of it.

Charlie hung limp. There wasn’t a thing she could do in this cramped hallway. There was a chance she may be able to force Freddy’s arms open, but there was an equivalent chance he could snap her in half like a dry pizza crust first. Before them, the hallway tapered open into a row of costume racks and stacked crates blocking their path. This made Charlie laugh; Puppet was fucking with him. She wondered where the animatronic had gone, but even she could hardly predict her longtime friend.

“Oof—” Charlie said out loud, looking at the tall stacks of abandoned crap blocking their way. She snickered to herself, hoping the inconvenience would piss Mike off the way that his existence did for her. “—Looks like you’ll have to go a different way. You know, unless you feel like crawling over all that shit. Or, maybe Freddy’s huge ass could crush the crates.”

“Shut up,” Michael snapped, grinding his jaw and balling his hands into fists.

Great. Just great. Yet another fucking inconvenience.

It’d take just as much time to clamber over the blockade than it would to turn back and use the stage lift like the others. It’d surely reset by now, and with the other Glamrocks ordered to the atrium Michael would have his choice of robotic backup when he left Freddy behind to hit the button.

…Then again, this could be just what Puppet wanted. Either way, Michael knew he was about to get even more annoyed no matter what path he took.

“Ugh—come on,” he said, shoving past Freddy and his captive as he marched back to Parts & Service. “I’m going the other way.”

“But, Michael—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Freddy!” The guard let out an annoyed huff. The bear was seriously starting to get on his already-fraying nerves. “Damn, did they have to make you so fucking pushy?!”

Charlie began to snicker at him again. This was rich. After so much torture at the hands of the rogue security guard, she really needed to see her former friend’s annoyance in person. In a way, his incompetence was lifting her spirits.

“Wow.” She laughed out with hard roll of her bright green eyes. “Even your lackeys disagree with you. So—are you ready to admit you don’t have any clue what you’re doing yet?”

Charlie knew that this might be poking the bear, more literally than figuratively. She couldn’t care less. He had it coming, and it was her turn to rub dirt in his eyes over this whole debacle. She swore that she could even see Mike sweating in the dim emergency lighting of the backrooms.

“I have a plan; you and your stupid friends keep messing it up!” Michael sneered, stopping in his tracks to point an accusatory finger at her. This was all supposed to go the way he wanted, and yet those springlocked bastards had to show their faces again after Mike thought he'd done away with them for good...

Not only that, Henry somehow made an android for his supernaturally-inclined daughter before he'd gotten skewered, creating two annoyances for Michael to deal with now that the Puppet was back online.

No more, though. He was getting weary of the chase; his body wasn't what it used to be, after all.

Finally, he reached the stage lift, angrily slamming the button to call it back down. He remained in contemplative silence as it returned, only speaking when he walked up the small ramp to get on the lift as it ground to a halt.

“Freddy, listen to me,” he hissed, glaring at the bear. “Keep. Her. Down. Here. You got that? I don't care what it takes. If I find out she got away from you, I'm going to have to reconsider your position as my top friend...”

“You do not have to worry, Officer Michael,” Freddy responded quickly. There was no way Mike would actually follow through on that should he fail this task... was there? He was Freddy Fazbear—he was meant to be number one.

Without further prompting he pressed the button, sending Michael up top while he remained with Charlie down below.

Charlie scoffed; she wasn’t going to stay here for long. For now she was just being hugged too tightly for her liking by one of Michael’s walking murder machines. Charlie heard Freddy claim that he only wanted to keep Gregory safe, but she wasn’t so sure about that. It wouldn’t be a risk she would take otherwise.

There was a moment of silence as she was left with Freddy, as uncomfortable and tense as it was awkward. The bear seemed to take his job seriously. After all, in his mind, kid’s lives were at stake here. Freddy’s naturally good nature was being taken advantage of with whatever faulty program that Mike uploaded to the Glamrocks…

It gave Charlie an idea. Though she doubted it would work, she still had to try.

“…Friends don’t do that, you know,” Charlie put out there gently. She knew it was a long shot trying to convince Fazbear that he was being used. It took Charlie years to figure it out herself, and she wasn’t even brainwashed!

—To her knowledge, at least.

“...I do not know what you mean,” Freddy said tersely, keeping his grip tight and secure as he walked Charlie back to the middle of the repair room. “And I do not think I should be speaking with you, as you are a bad influence, like the others.”

(Oh, if only the poor bear knew how wrong he was.)

***

Up in the main atrium, the stage lift ground to a halt. Michael immediately hopped off, grimacing when he landed a bit too hard for his liking on the tiled floor. Looking around, he was relieved to spot an “ally” stalking nearby.

“Monty!” he called, summoning the gator over with a wave. Excellent—he managed to find the best muscle and the one that fought back the least. “Has anyone seen that kid yet?!”

“Heeeey, Mike!” the gator drawled, walking over with an apologetic shrug. “Nah, sorry—we've been lookin' but we think they're hidin' out somewhere...”

“Of course they are.” The guard huffed, starting off in a random direction. “You, come with me. I need backup now that Freddy's preoccupied.”

“Ooh, Fredbear's in trouble...,” Monty sang, then snickered as he followed along obediently.

Michael simply rolled his eyes. Despite his tendency to provide unnecessary commentary, at least the gator wasn't going to question his decisions.

***

In the world above, Gregory and his new-old friends were making do with the limited resources they had. Gregory had come to realize how little the original suits could do compared to the shiny Glamrocks. Their spring-loaded interiors made them tough enough to stand the test of time—but they stunk like sin and were slow to boot. Luckily, Gregory was used to being around gross things in his life by this point. Even right now, he was surrounded in a dimly lit kitchen dry-storage area with various spoiling foods knocked down in an attempt to barricade the door to get in. It wouldn’t stop the stronger animatronics, but it would give all of them time to prepare…

Things were looking grim, but with a lack of anywhere to go, Henry’s idea of storing themselves away inside the pantry for the time being gave Gregory an opportunity to relax. He felt on edge, but reminded himself that no matter what happened, at least it wouldn’t kill the boy. Unfortunately, there was a chance that he could turn into some emaciated, oxygen-deprived corpse before he hit fourteen.

As he ate chips and cold queso, Gregory sat across the floor from his current guardians. Both were tense and silent; if a few things were still the same as in his original world, Gregory could infer why they weren’t speaking to one another. He wondered how either could stand to be in the same room after the things he found out. 

“I think Charlie’s fine right now.” Gregory broke the silence, trying his hand at optimism. “Michael’s probably too busy looking for me… She’s smart; I bet Charlie’s already figuring out how to find us.”

“For sure,” Henry said absently, as if he was just responding for the sake of giving Gregory an answer. Then he blinked, sitting up a bit straighter after if suddenly realizing where he was.

He couldn’t afford to get lost in his head right now. Gregory needed his protection, and while he did trust Will to try and keep the kid safe at this point, with the old Brit solely relying on supernatural power to move his suit it made him less than ideal in quick situations. Henry needed to keep his wits about him—and he also needed to make sure Gregory didn’t get pulled into their depressing aura.

“Yeah, I’m sure she’s just fine,” he tried again, injecting a smile into his voice for good measure. He reached over to gently pat Gregory’s head, nodding to his snack. “How’s the food? I know it’s not The Ritz, but hopefully it’ll give you some energy for a bit.”

“It’s got… flavor,” Gregory answered with a lopsided grin, a stringy, coagulated strand of cheese stretching from the chip to his mouth. “…I don’t know if it’s good or bad. But it’s a flavor for sure.”

William was looking far-off to the door. At first, Gregory hated feeling bad for this man. Yet even if he had somewhat of a sordid past, the amount of times Will had already tried to protect him in this timeline made it very hard not to sympathize. It was impossible to forget the hell William had put him through in his own space-time, but it was quickly growing clear how all these small details added up to change his perception.

“Will?” Gregory called, earning his attention with a slow blink in his direction. “I was wondering if you guys went to the basement a lot…” Looking to Henry, he directed his question openly. “Have you ever seen more ghosts? You know… other than Charlie?”

William’s eyelids fell halfway, as if he was furrowing eyebrows that no longer were attached to the outer layer of the suit.

“Have you…?” William asked, almost accusingly if Gregory didn’t know better. 

“I asked you both first.” Gregory was firm, willing to be stubborn if it meant getting the whole truth from them about the resources they had at their disposal. He wasn’t going to play these games with the rabbit.

“Uh…,” Henry wasn’t sure how to respond at first. God, how he wished he could save this kid from all the horrors this multi-layered Pizzaplex had to offer…

If only they’d gotten Gregory out, busted a damn wall open if they had to just to set him free. But it was far too late for that now. Maybe if he’d still been human, Henry would be less forthcoming with information. The less Gregory knew, the less traumatized he’d be at the end of all this. Now though, with those silver eyes staring sharp and inquisitive at him through the darkness, Henry realized the kid didn’t have that luxury.

“…There’s no point hiding anything, Will,” he murmured, fully resigned to delivering unfortunate information. So far, to Henry’s knowledge the only “ghosts” Gregory interacted with were himself, Will, and Charlie—none of them technically “children” when they died, though Charlie was pushing it.

The ones in the basement though… they were a different sort of entity altogether.

“To your first question: no, we don’t go to the basement a lot,” the bear went on, not quite able to meet Gregory’s gaze. “The reason being the answer to your second ask: unfortunately there are other ghosts down there. Three, technically, and… something else.” He glanced side-eyed at Will, not really sure what they should categorize Ennard as. Letting out a sigh, he added: “They’re… not nearly as friendly as us, though. In all honesty, we don’t feel very welcome down there, so we tend to stay away.”

Gregory's mouth twisted in a frown. None of the ghosts wanted to see them? It was a stark contrast to how excited the kids were to break the monotony of it all reuniting with their old friends in his original world. 

“So you haven’t tried asking them for help?” Gregory asked, William’s eyes snapping to attention at the kid.

“No. And no, we won’t be leaving this pantry until we’re sure the coast is clear,” William replied, shutting down the idea fast.

Gregory wiped the crumbs from his hand and protested. “But we’re flailing out there, Will! And they have Charlie!”

Gregory and William stood now in a stand-off. The looks that they sent one another were haunting reflections of the past. It was like William was speaking to his own kid, the same challenging look he would give his kin over little disagreements, if not just a slight more measured when observing Gregory.

“Charlie will be fine. I—we can’t lose you, Gregory! I won’t do it again…” William sounded increasingly more upset. It wasn’t rage, as he never raised his voice, but his raspy cadence cracked with the strain in it. “Sit down and eat your crisps. We’re not asking poltergeists for help while you’re still hurt.”

Gregory crossed his arms and parked his butt on the hard floor.

“They’re chips…,” he grumbled; the tough love was new, especially coming from William Afton.

“Greg, have some compassion—Will’s British, he can’t help it,” Henry remarked, his tone surprisingly unbothered for such a tense conversation. He’d only been half-listening to the bickering, the gears in his mind turning as he mulled over their circumstances.

As usual, the kid had a point. Besides the fact it was driving him crazy to sit in this room doing nothing while his daughter was out dealing with who knows what, it would be a good idea to recruit others to their cause…

“…Look,” Henry began after a heavy silence, and he could feel the scathing look William’s emaciated face was giving him under that bunny mask. “I’m not saying it’s a good idea—and lord knows they’re not going to be happy about us bothering them, but… we can’t stay in this pantry forever. Sooner or later, one of those animatronics is going to bust down that door, and I’d much rather at least be trying to get ahead instead of being sitting ducks for Michael’s amusement.”

He looked to Gregory then, gaze serious as he rested a paw on his knee. “Greg, you’ve got to understand—these spirits are angry. It’s might not be easy trying to hold a civil conversation with them, let alone asking them for help… although at least they all hate Mike as much as the rest of us, so it’s possible. No matter what happens Will and I will protect you, but it might be rough down there—do you think you can handle that?”

Gregory’s long frown at being told “no” flipped upright at Henry’s joke. William had heard it all before—this was just a reused quip in Emily’s comedy repertoire. Though, he couldn’t lie that it may have made him smirk internally.

When Gregory processed just how pissed these ghosts might be, he remembered his first encounter with Cassidy. She was a spitfire who only managed to calm down a fraction once he got to know her.

“I can handle it; promise,” Gregory said with certainty. He capped up his jar of fake cheese and tossed the bag of chips aside.

William was compliant, though he really didn’t like this plan at all. If he had it his way, they would all be sitting barricaded in this room and pretending as if a manhunt for their blood wasn’t going on in the outside world. Yet here he was lumbering towards the makeshift wall he made and grumbling. “I think you’re both nuts.”

But then again, these little luck-based plans were getting them progress. He begun to move aside the barricade, tossing things out of the way and placing the wire frame shelving upright again to free their path.

“Took you this long to figure that out?” Henry quipped, standing to help William move things out of the way. This was good. Everyone was on the same page now, and they had a semblance of a plan. They were going to get through this.

Unbeknownst to the hopeful trio, the manhunt for Gregory was far closer than they wanted it to be. The sound-proof pantry may have kept them hidden, but it had the unintentional effect of blocking sound for them, too... and with Gregory not hooked into this Pizzaplex’s camera system, they had no way to tell that their presence had been noticed.

“Mike—” The gator stopped in his tracks, placing a hand on the guard’s shoulder and cocking his head as he spoke in a low whisper. He wasn’t on par with Roxanne, but even Monty’s advanced hearing could pick up on such noise from just around the corner. “—I think I hear somethin’… like heavy stuff movin’ around.”

William looked around, peering into the kitchen area with a cautious glance. He then held the door for his party to move through. Looking to Henry specifically, he told them: “Age before beauty; after you Hen,” in a playful manner. He may not be the best one to stay optimistic at times, but he wasn’t going to bring down Gregory’s excitement for his new plan.

Gregory had already been in front of Henry, closest to William. He rolled his eyes and told them with a teasing laugh: “You’re both old as hell!”

He came through the doorway and into the kitchen prep area… Only to freeze at the shadow peering at them from behind the door.

There were in fact two shadows, but the smaller one was near-impossible to see with Monty’s hulking frame backlit behind him. Only the dull, incandescent silver eyes gave any indication that their worst enemy was standing directly in their way.

“Hello again,” Michael remarked in a tone as casual as if they were discussing the weather.

“No, no, no!” Henry hissed, instinctively throwing Gregory behind him. Sandwiched between the two first generation springlock suits, the boy was surrounded by fuzzy-coated layers of pissed off steel and bone.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Michael mocked, taking a step forward. He paused when Henry slouched in a more defensive pose, raising his palms half-heartedly and speaking in a deadpan tone. “Oh no, someone’s angry…”

Then he spit out a laugh, lowering his hands to his hips. “If it’s any consolation, Charlie was still functional when I left her; I didn’t feel the need to ‘kill her’ again for no apparent reason—she’s already been through that enough.”

His glowing gaze flickered to William, evil and taunting. Michael knew he should just grab the kid and go before they got any ideas, but he couldn’t help rub salt in old wounds. Besides, it’s not like his father could hurt him from that death trap of a suit.

Gregory was beginning to hate the semi-decomposed smirk of Michael Afton, and just when his fear of Monty had finally ebbed, he was reminded of how formidable of an enemy the gator once was. Squished between his only remaining friends, Gregory watched as William glared hard at his son.

“You spiteful little shit…,” William growled, likely not making their situation any better. Sure, Michael was laughing now, but William had an edge he didn’t know about. “Did you come here just to be a smarmy jerk? Or are you going to give up?”

William always considered himself good at bluffing, even despite being dealt a bad hand and backed into the corner of the kitchen. Gregory peeked out behind Henry, grasping onto his grungy fur as William backed them further, putting space between them and the enemy.

“Mike—please just leave me alone…,” the boy begged.  

��No can do, kid,” Michael replied with a shake of his head. “You’re just too good of an ally to pass up—so if you’re not going to join me willingly, we’ll just have do it the hard way.” He lifted his Fazwatch to his mouth. “Roxy, Chica—the child is by the first floor kitchen. Get here asap.”

“Michael!” Henry snapped, as if his harsh tone would actually do anything to sway the guard’s mission. As expected, Michael simply turned his head towards the old bear and scoffed.

“Come on, Henry—you think I’ll listen to you? I don’t even listen to my real dad. Monty?” Snapping his fingers, he pointed to the little face peering out from behind the springlock bear. “Get him.”

Henry growled, reaching an arm behind him protectively when the gator started forward.

“Hey, I don’t wanna hurt ya, buddy,” Monty said with a demented grin, claws outstretched as he stalked towards them. “Just gimme the kid and we can aaaaall forget this and play a game of golf together—how’s that sound?”

“Fuck off,” Henry snapped, totally at his wits end. This made Monty pause, but only for a second before moving again with a raucous laugh.

“My profanity filter’s disabled too, dumbass; you don’t scare me!” His gaze dropped to Gregory, red eyes peering through his dark shades. “Get over here, little guy…”  

William knew he was in between a rock and a hard place now. He could push Monty off and choose to fight him, but that would give Michael the perfect opportunity to strike with his taser. If he attacked Michael in the hopes that Monty would pull back to help his “friend,” he risked leaving Henry and Gregory open for attack…

It was too late; the choice was being made for him. The once-passive bunny lurched forward to give Monty a hard push at his shoulders, aiming to knock him into Michael with the hopes of incapacitating him long enough for their escape. Paws collided with thick shoulder pads as William forced his limbs to move unaided by long-rusted mechanisms.

Gregory couldn’t bear to watch it all; he yelled and buried his face into the disgusting fur-suit holding him protectively. “NO! I don’t want to go!”

Michael was expecting something to snap the tension like a twig, so he was able to avoid Monty ramming into him when shoved back by William’s surprise attack. He had to jump out of the way though, which gave Henry just enough time to snatch Gregory up and book it. They rushed through the kitchens, out into the main atrium where they could head for—

There was a snarl to Henry’s left, and he only had a split-second to react before a lightning-fast grey and red blur slammed into his side. With a shout Henry practically threw Gregory into the air, not wanting to crush the poor kid as he went down heavily on his stomach.

Damn these old suits—they were so much more effort to maneuver than the sleek Glamrocks.

“N-No—no, Gregory, run!” Henry yelled, trying to shove off the wolf who was doing her best to rend his suit to pieces with her sharp claws.

But it was too late.

Before the kid could even think about abandoning his guardians, there was a fizzle of electricity and Gregory crashed onto the floor in a heap. Michael stood above him, a sneer on his face as the taser crackled in his hand.

“You fucking bastard!” Henry shrieked, painstakingly trying to right himself. Michael let out a short laugh and hooked the weapon back into his belt.

“I didn’t kill him, relax,” the zombie said with a roll of his eyes, bending down to pick Gregory up and roughly throw the kid over his shoulder. “He’s just taking a nap. No time to chat, though; we’ve got things to do. See you around!”  

Giving the old bear a jaunty salute, Michael turned and sped off towards the Fazerblast office with his prize, leaving Henry on the floor trying vainly to fight off Roxy. He could hear Will still struggling with the huge gator inside the kitchen, and it sounded like Monty was winning. Henry could help, get them both free so they could find Gregory together…

But just when Henry thought he might be getting the upper hand, Chica appeared and forced him back into submission on the floor. With a deep, gut-wrenching drop in the pit of his stomach, Henry realized they might have lost yet another child to Michael Afton’s madness.

Gregory didn’t even know what happened. The pain from the taser left him blacking out as soon as the metal barbs shot into his skin. Now in the not so gentle caress of Michael’s shoulder, he slept with his startling silver eyes open at attention. It left him staring blankly after his friends—those who still fought to get him back.

“MICHAEL! Don’t do this!” William called, his fists locked with Monty’s as the gator set on bending his wrists back. He wasn’t going to be enough—William did his best to plant his feet as Gregory and his son vanished from sight.

“Gregory!” he called pitifully, glancing sidelong to see the state of Henry being shredded by Roxy’s claws. It was then when he saw his former best friend being dismantled before his eyes that William’s courage wavered. He was pushed onto his back, now parallel to Henry on the ground.

They might not make it out of this one unscathed…

***

Previous Chapter ~~ Next Chapter

Looking for more? Check out the Chapter Masterlist on Tumblr!

Or check out the entire Wires that Bind Us Series on ao3!

[bi-badass-geek]

Summer Games Fest 2024

Holy fuck if that shit wasn't putting me to sleep and it wasn't even because it started at 11pm over here. No offence to those devs and all but most of the stuff was Boring with capital b. Audience either didn't care bout most things showcased or was just asleep too cause that was just sad. My 5 cents that no one asked about since i fell asleep right after + gonna link trailers from IGN.

📣 First they pulled presentation of top 10 Steam sales january-may Palworld, Helldivers 2, Manor Lords, Enshrouded, Hades 2, Dragon's Dogma 2, Balotro, Deep Rock Galactic Survivor, Supermarket Simulator, Buckshot Roulette. I can see most but some i didn't even heard.

📣 Lego Horizon Adventures : Coming holiday 2024, nothing else to say another day another lego game soon we will see any universe with those.

📣 No one Room in Hell 2, Early Access Halloween 2024

📣 Harry Potter Quidditch Champions another game September 3rd.

📣 Star Wars Outlaws coming out August 30. Saying everyone waiting out for it this year is mad!

📣 Battle Aces that's RTS but 99.99% trailer had Tracer like is outta pocket!

📣 Cairn climbing simulator, face texture horrible, studio name 'the game bakers' tho cooks.

📣 Killer Bean EA summer 2024.

📣 Valorant coming to console.

📣 Palworld Sakurajima Update : New Island, New Raid, Arena, Xbox dedicated Servers, 27 June, Stronghold Oil-Rig, New Faction and boss, New Pals, New Buildings and Level Cap, New Subspecies.

📣 Skate console playtesting coming this fall great trailer especially 'STILL' working on it!

📣 Deer & Boy crazy name.

📣 Dune Awakening well it's MMO yikes.

📣 Wandershop fans of gardening, farming will enjoy for sure with a twist. Coming in 2024!

📣 Phantom Blade 0 i can't look at it the same way after i read Japanese Geralt or its Sekiro 2/Nioh 3 lol ,to experience on hand : 8-10 June Summer Game Fest, 26-29 July ChinaJoy, 21-25 August, September 28-29 Tokyo Game Show.

📣 Hyper Light Breaker comes out Late Summer typical Hyper's stuff!

📣 Monster Hunter Wilds

📣 Honkai Star Rail i seriously have no idea what it's about since i don't play but something new i guess?

📣 Alan Wake 2 Night Springs out now, 3 playable characters : Control, Quantum Break. Gotta say wild that they showed it in less than 24h hours before it was out love that and cool that they added other games! 3 episodes!

📣 Kingdom Come Deliverance 2 looks like more good ol' shenanigans that people are stocked for! Kiss Our Asses what's more to say! Coming 2024!

📣 The First Descendant out July 2nd, heard it's good, looks typical stuff. Melee character lookin dope!

📣 Enotria The Last Song : Spanish Souls what can i say! Demo out now! September 19th!

📣Dark and Darker back on Steam and Epic Store for free now!

📣Blumhouse Games : Project C, The Simulation, Fear The Spotlight, Sleep Awake, Crisol Theater Of Idols. Nothing got me more confused in entire livestream than this segment that was just dumped bucket of trash no offence.

📣Sid Meier's Civilization VII : coming 2025 not my vibe but didn't saw fans complaining!

📣Neva comes out 2024 from creators of GRIS.

📣Back Myth Wukong coming out August 20th. That's quick been a while since we last heard.

📣Once Human : Comes out July 9th. Around the corner not going to lie i forgot about this game till i saw it!

📣Asgard's Wrath Available Now

📣Warhammer 40,000 Space Marine 2 September 9th. Another Warhammer.

📣 Metaphor ReFantazio October 11th lovers of Persona got somethin to consume!

📣 Batman Shadow VR game Fall 2024. It's VR game that's all you need to know.

📣 Tears of Metal

📣 DragonBall Sparking! Zero October 11th. KAMEHAMEHAAA!

📣 Delta Force Hawk OPS Global PC Alpha Test in July.

📣 Battle Crush June 27th Moba Mobile nothin else needs to be said.

📣 Mecha Break Closed Beta Test in August such Gundam vibes when i saw trailer but funny how people called it Anthem 2 lol.

📣Slitterhead combat looks chunky November 8th it's out.

📣Unknown 9 : Awakening. Coming Fall 2024 got actress that plays Yennefer in Witcher show. People called it Forspoken 2 lmao.

📣Monster Hunter Stories &2 : Coming June 14th.

Sales : Monster Hunter Rise Up 75% OFF, Monster Hunter World 67%, Resident Evil 4 25%, Street Fighter 50%.

Among Us folks made OutterSloth that supports devs + fuckin tv show is supposed to come out think years too late but oh well.

📣 Sonic x Shadow Generations October 25th nostalgia hittin hard for some individuals.

📣 The Finals new Arena, New Ranked Mode, New Weapons and Gadgets, Weekly Tournaments.

📣 New World Aeternum October 15th consoles. Last i saw game was dead on dead.

📣 Kunitsu-Gami Path of the Goddess half of the graphics to gameplay confused my brain.

📣 Party Animal didn't catch what was that about.

Inside Out 2 Yong Yea voicing is cool!

📣 Squad Busters : Mobile that fuckin trailer killed it omfg! Way too OP for mobile!

[changingplumbob]

Foster Household: Chapter 6, Part 2

Reece is trying to practice football as much as he can before he actually has a practice to attend.

Happy to report I clocked both Paris and Deanna still crushing on each other despite it being several in game weeks since I played Deanna's household. They are so adorable. Fingers crossed the sentiments stick around for when I next get back to the Yorks.

Cannot emphasize enough how less creepy the teddy is than the doll.

Bob: What about you Charlie? Giving Harvey any grandkids soon?

Harvey: Bob she's only 24

Charlie: I don't think I want to be pregnant so only time will tell

Harvey: Don't feel like you have to have kids

Carson: Hey mum

Kayleigh: Yes

Carson: The other day at recess I was all by myself and I wasn't sure what I should do when that happens

Kayleigh: Go ask some other kids if you can play with them, bravery has its rewards

Carson: Okay

Reece: You're a professional athlete, you must be able to throw a football with me

Charlie: Toss it

*Charlie ducks*

Reece: What was that?

Charlie: Sorry! I am clumsy, maybe that's why I couldn't catch it

Reece: Why do these interactions keep failing

Charlie: No clue bro

Reece: Thanks for trying

Charlie: What can I say, I'm more soccer than football

Harvey: DINNER EVERYONE!

Charlie: Come on, I'll race ya

Carson: And then, then, the scout leader said to throw it in the trash. Cardboard, in the trash!

Reece: That's basic of him

Kayleigh: Not everyone understands recycling

Harvey: I mean the only proper recycling bins are cc

Carson: So we should just keep throwing everything away into bins that never get collected and never get full

Reece: Ummm

Charlie: There are recycling machines though, right?

Carson: Machines, not bins. The recycling happens too late

Kayleigh: I'm pretty sure the eco footprint doesn't get impacted, no matter how much rubbish we produce

Carson: Ridiculous

Reece: I mean why should our environment be negatively affected because our plumbing breaks

Carson: Because that's life, the more waste we produce the worse the world gets

Charlie: Dam when did you get so heavy

Carson: I just don't want the global boiling to get us

Harvey: Son, we're sims, global boiling will not get us

Reece: But how do you know

Kayleigh: That's not helpful Reece

Reece: Excuse me for thinking

Kayleigh: Carson, we do what we can, and hopefully if other families do the same then the world will get better

Carson: You're right, at scouts we should get the message to other families to try help

After dinner Reece goes for a run because despite playing football with 4 people today he has a tense moodlet from not having enough exercise? Doesn't make sense to me either.

(Me from the future. It was a glitch. I forgot Reece doesn't actually have the active trait so definitely shouldn't have got that)

Harvey does a spot of night fishing and these views always take my breath away.

Kayleigh: Where's Kaori?

Charlie: Spending time with her grandparents. They're getting old and she's worried about how much longer they'll be here

Kayleigh: After losing her parents who can blame her for that

Charlie: I know, thanks for not being dead mum

Kayleigh: I do my best

This week's holiday is named Is It Spring Yet. Occurring on the last Sunday of winter, goals include healthy cooking, fasting and exercising. It's meant to be the opposite side of the coin to Food Coma day, and I was hard pressed to think of 16 legit holidays.

Kayleigh tries to sunbathe. I loved getting the massive skintone update. It does mean my sims tans have unpredictable outcomes though which can be good or hilarious. Carson has also entered a Clingy phase. And the tan is... not the worst one I've ever seen I guess. I might need to darken her hair though...

Football captain Lilith has accepted Reece's invitation to hang out. After some less than stellar practice Reece takes a selfie to try boost friendship, alas that feature doesn't work anymore, sorry mate. Try a conversation instead.

Lilith: I hope you improve before practice

Reece: Fitness is a weakness of mine but I love wellness so

Lilith: Different ball game kid. Is that your mum running in this heat?

Reece: Yeah, we're a fitness centric family

Lilith: That's good, it'll help

Reece: Any other tips

Lilith: Spend some time at lunches practicing with Samir, you need to get better aim

Reece: Right, I guess I'll do that then

Lilith: Smile kid, none of us start out perfect at anything

Reece: True

Lilith: I can tell you want to give this a proper go so keep practicing

Carson: Reece! Reece! Help me ride a bike

Reece: Scouts over already?

Carson: Yes. I achieved my aspiration this morning with level 10 motor skill but I still can't ride a bike

Reece: How embarrassing for you

Carson: Huh?

Reece has begun a mean phase, fingers crossed it's short

Lilith: Is this fish burnt?

Harvey: It's intentional

Kayleigh: We have other food if that's no good

Lilith: Oh no Mrs Foster, it'll be fine. Reece you didn't say your mum was a celebrity, this artwork is amazing

Kayleigh: Thank you dear, feel free to visit anytime

Charlie decided to visit after dinner so we invited Keira over and the siblings all had some catch up time. Charlie and Reece have the "childhood buds" status while Keira and Reece are "super siblings". #Parenthood has so much detail, definitely my favourite game pack!

Reece: Hey Samir, Lilith said I should talk to you about football practice

Samir: Why

Reece: I'm on the football team now

Samir: Oh

Reece: I think she was hoping you would teach me some skills

Samir: Lunch, club room

Reece: Huh?

Samir: Practice

Reece: No, I meant to say I didn't realise we had a football club room

Samir: Football and cheer. Technically.

Reece: So it's bi-purpose

Samir: Umm, yeah, sure

Reece: Did you say at lunch?

Samir: Problem?

Reece: I normally use it to eat, you know, lunch

Reece: Do you not eat lunch?

Samir: Big breakfasts

Reece: Will I fit in food

Samir: Probably

Reece: So there's no don't eat for an hour before football rule

Samir: What?

Reece: You know, like don't eat an hour before swimming

Samir: I gotta... go do stuff, see you then

Reece: Bye

If you're thinking why is this conversation so awkward, Reece developed a crush on Samir after literally saying ONE thing to him today. Samir is a loner so is pretty much constantly tense at high school. Reece saw my plan for a quick week and said nah I'm the star

Previous Part ... Next Part

[furnituremartsonline]

The Secrets Behind Quality Mattresses: What You Should Really Look For

After long days at work, everyone craves deep comforting sleep. Unfortunately, that experience often gets disturbed by an uncomfortable mattress. People just grab a mattress without really thinking about its quality. They simply choose one based on price or a well-known brand, which isn’t the best way to go about it. Whether you're shopping for mattresses New Orleans or elsewhere, you need to take a more thoughtful approach.

Before buying, pause for a moment and consider the materials and the mattress's construction. Every small detail makes a difference when enjoying a truly restful sleep. Want more insight into mattresses? Let’s understand the secrets of buying a quality mattress.

Mattress Types and How They Affect Sleep

Mattresses come in many different shapes. Some types are better suited for people’s needs. Memory foam, for instance, adapts and molds itself based on your body shape. These types are good for people struggling with back or joint pain, helping reduce discomfort during the night. Then there are hybrid mattresses. These combine springs with foam, creating a balanced feel many people appreciate. If you prefer the traditional bouncy vibe, those spring mattresses may suit you best.

Firmness and Support: Two Must-Know Qualities

Firmness and support—these two qualities define a mattress's comfort. Firmness refers mainly to how soft or cushioned the mattress feels, allowing the body to sink slightly when lying down. Side sleepers particularly benefit from this feature.

On the other hand, support focuses on keeping your spine straight. The quality of the mattress's material affects how well it can hold up your body. Foam that reduces pressure points and adjusts to your weight often proves ideal.

Breaking Down Mattress Layers

Understanding the layers within a mattress might seem a little technical, but it’s important. These layers determine how well your mattress works, sleep-wise. The topmost layer is usually soft, and designed for cushioning. Beneath that comes the transition layer, whose job is distributing weight evenly. Last is the foundational layer, providing core support. Not all furniture stores near me offer the same layer combination.

Temperature Regulation: An Overlooked Necessity

A lot of people don’t consider how mattresses affect body temperature. Some trap heat, making it tough to sleep comfortably through the night. To avoid this, look for cooling gel memory foam mattresses or breathable coil systems.

After all, some of the best furniture stores New Orleans offers can make all the difference in your comfort.

Shop the best mattresses now by visiting https://furnituremarts.com/

Original Source: https://bit.ly/3C4UJ5R

[pantherlord4]

I know an RPG net thread that helps expand on Captain Clown here

Here's the thing about him

"He is the master of oppression through comedy.

His "humor" is crude, uncreative, lowest common denominator and very, very mean spirited. Alichino loves to punch down on oppressed and marginalized people, turning them into offensive sterotypes or making jokes about perceived flaws. When called out on this he goes to the old defenses of "Its just a joke" and "Don't be so thinned skin." All of this is a calculated psychological attack in order to erode empathy towards these groups and everyone remembers who is in the lower classes.

Alichino will also direct his "comedy" towards legitimate good aligned rulers, painting them as weak, incompetent, or exaggerating minor flaws in their characters, again this is a calculated effort to undermine public confidence in these leaders and get rules more in line with Asmodeus' world view (IE Fascists) put in charge. Alichino and his followers target anyone who is trying to make the world better, trying to fix broken systems, anyone who cares as idiots worthy only of mockery and scorn. He also delights in cruel mean spirited pranks which can be outright dangerous to the victims.

Ironically, Alichino himself is incredibly thinned skin. He can't stand be heckled, and he hates being the butt of a joke. Doing so can easily send him in a rage, at which point he drops all pretense of humor and tries to kill whoever upstaged him as gruesomely as possible. His arch nemesis is Picoperi, the merrygleam, the Empyreal lord of jokes, pranks, and surprises, not only for being legitimately funny, but he has managed to prank and bamboozle Alichino on numerous occasions.

Alichino's cultists consist of indivudal bards, playwrights, novelists and satirists who all publish and create nasty unpleasant barely disguised racist screeds meant to divide people and push oppressed people down. Most Alichino cultists work solitarily, but occasionally cults dedicated to him will spring up among groups of wealthy affluent people, who pass their time holding private parties where they kidnap random poor people and torture them to death in creatively horrific ways."

I can totally also see the clown subscribing to the "one bad day" ideology too(though in my eyes,one bad day is just the straw that breaks the camels back,it requires a series of misfortunes beforehand to work. Hence why Bruce didn't go mad but joker did; Bruce didn't have a bad life before that night in Crime Alley,joker was struggling for most likely MONTHS to YEARS and lost basically everything that night.)

Sorry I went overboard

It really is a pity, if I'm being honest. If you told someone who had never dove into Pathfinder's lore that Golarion has its own version of the Joker and that he was an extremely powerful devil whose job and entire purpose for existence, specifically, is "conquer Golarion," this hypothetical person would probably have their flabbers gasted if you told them he has never been the Big Bad in an AP or even so much as a Module.

This guy

is Asmodeus' most trusted agent for the purpose of conquering Golarion, arguably THE most important planet in all of creation for Asmodeus to have total dominion over due to it containing Rovagug.

And yet, scarcely a mention in any book not specifically about fiendish divinities! One of the scant bits of lore about him (in Council of Thieves: Infernal Syndrome, pg. 89) tells of when his trickery was reversed upon him, while his second largest scattering of lore (throughout Rule of Fear) reveals him as the secret patron of a clown school, with his most fervent follower being a mime, who work to gather enough blackmail material to secretly control a whole city from the shadows.

NOT including him in more material feels like leaving proverbial money on the table, if you ask me.