#he already travels a lot as-is. and he'd rather be on the road than in his sister's house...

[pivsketch]

"i cant believe my Long Lost Rival is driving around as some sort of FOOD COURIER instead of FIGHTING ME TO THE DEATH IN THE WRESTLING RING!!!" <- light novel title

this is (probably) not canon but the set up for a meetcute amused me enough to fumble through drawing a comic on my phone. help ive forgotten how to draw my guys!!!

[muzaktomyears]

messages from Paul McCartney and Yoko Ono on the 40th anniversary in 1997 of the Woolton church fête where John and Paul first met

John, Paul & Me Before the Beatles: The True Story of the Very Early Days, Len Garry (2014)

text under the cut

A MESSAGE TO WOOLTON FROM PAUL MCCARTNEY

Ah yes, I remember it well.

I do, actually. My memory of meeting John for the first time is very clear. My mate Ivan Vaughn took me along to Woolton here and there were The Quarry Men, playing on a little platform.

I can still see John now - checked shirt and slightly curly hair, singing Come Go With Me by The Del Vikings. He didn't know all the words, so he was putting in stuff about penitentiaries - and making a good job of it.

I remember thinking 'He looks good - I wouldn't mind being in a group with him'.

A bit later on we met up; I played him Twenty Flight Rock and he seemed pretty impressed - maybe because I did know all the words.

Then, as you know, he asked me to join the group, and so began our trip together. We wrote our first songs together, we grew up together and we lived our lives together.

And when we'd do it together, something special would happen. There'd be that little magic spark.

I still remember his beery old breath when I met him here that day. But I soon came to love that beery old breath. And I loved John. I always was and still am a great fan of John's. We had a lot of fun together and I treasure all those beautiful memories.

So I sent you all in Woolton and Liddipool my best wishes today.

And thanks for remembering - there's no way that when we met here we had any idea of what we'd be starting. But I'm very proud of what we did. And I'm very glad that I did it with John.

I hope you all have a wonderful day and God bless all who sail in you.

PAUL MCCARTNEY

MESSAGE FROM YOKO ONO

What a sweet celebration!

Yes, the meeting of John and Paul was an important event not only for those of us who loved their songs, but for the whole world which went through a social change for the better as a result of their words and music.

John's first thought as Paul showed him what he could do was: "Okay - this guy is good and already the girls are flocking around him - not around me! So if I let him in, he'd going to be a tough one to handle - but I'll have a strong band."

So John took Paul in. I think this story is important in that it shows as a creator and a leader of the band, John went for getting a strong band rather than having an easy time. And John was only a teenager. What a brain! What a guy!

By the way, it's interesting that the meeting took place at a church. Also, the main bulk of their songs were recorded in Abbey Road Studios, in London. Am I the only one who thinks of these coincidences as interesting?

John and Paul were traveling minstrels, who spread the word of love throughout the world. Through their songs, they brought the energy of love to the then gray world, which was still coping with the aftermath of the second world war.

With their words and music, John and Paul showed the world that law and order was not necessarily the most important force in the world. Love was the power and the energy that could change the world. And it did.

But it all started at the Woolton Fete forty years ago. As you celebrate this day, the world joins you in your celebration. Those who cannot come physically to Liverpool join you in spirit. It's a nice day to celebrate and I thank you for doing it. Peace.

[garden-of-omegas]

⚜ FIRST MEETING [ARCANA - ROMANCEABLES] ⚜

┌── ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ••✎•• ──────────

characters: asra | nadia | julian | muriel | portia | lucio summary: the details of your first meeting with your future mate. warnings: none? i think. rating: sfw a/n: starting with the basics this time! don't worry about the missing writings, they're not completely gone and will be back sooner or later. i just realized i needed to revise a lot of stuff and i'd rather do that now rather than way later when they're half-lost under everything else.

~🎕

└── ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ••✎•• ──────────

≿━━━━༺❀ asra ❀༻━━━━≾

✿ you were a wandering magician, looking for a place to settle down with your familiar, an european badger named ursula. you'd recently arrived at vesuvia, where you were planning to stay for only a few days.

✿ asra was eighteen at the time, and had yet to start his travelling lifestyle. you, on the other hand, claimed to be around the same age though you never mentioned your exact age. however, you were apparently already tired of your travels.

✿ you met asra during a masquerade, the first time you'd ever come to vesuvia. he had set up a little fortune telling booth near the market, and you were wandering around taking in the sights. you happened upon his booth during your wandering, and showed him a few tips to fortune telling after having your own fortune read. asra immediately asked you to teach him more. [☘]

✿ you agreed to teach him a few tricks if he showed you around vesuvia, as you had yet to figure your way fully around. his enthusiasm made you fall in love with vesuvia (and him) and eventually you went on to buy the shop he'd set his booth at.

✿ asra admired you instantly upon meeting you, you were so knowledgeable and wise about magic and the world. spending some time with you let him even see a glimpse behind the gruff look on your face, and he thinks some part of him fell in love with you then. you found asra to be cute, his eternally curious disposition quickly breaking through your usually tough facade. it didn't take long for you to decide that spending more time with the cute omega wouldn't be too bad.

≿━━━━༺❀ nadia ❀༻━━━━≾

✿ you were a magician looking for something shown to you in a vision you'd had. you'd been on the road with your familiar, a jackdaw named camma, for several years at that point. vesuvia was originally just a stopping point for you on your journey.

✿ nadia was twenty at the time, recently engaged to lucio (sort of, anyways...). you were apparently around the same age, though with apparent wisdow beyond your years.

✿ you happened upon nadia in the town square of vesuvia, both of you rather new to the city-nation. she was just leaving her carriage when you'd stopped by to ask her about her clothes and carriage, ever curious about anything new. nadia gladly answered you, drawing you both into a conversation about her home country.

✿ nadia had to eventually leave for her duties, but she invited you over for discussions several times afterwards while you were still in the city. you eventually decided to stay, feeling like vesuvia was where you were meant to be and went on to open your own shop.

✿ nadia thought of you as an interesting person, your curiosity apparent and rather cute. she especially admired your intelligence and talents, making your constant talking far more tolerable than most other people she has to listen to. to you nadia was the most curious thing in the entirety of vesuvia, something about her drawing you to her instantly. you weren't sure if it was her scent, so exotic, or something more magical. regardless, you couldn't wait to get to know more about her.

≿━━━━༺❀ julian ❀༻━━━━≾

✿ you were a magic shop owner in vesuvia, having already settled down some time ago, though you still dreamed about your past of travelling. at least your familiar, an irish wolfhound named calum, was content with it all.

✿ you were both in your mid-twenties, supposedly. it was shortly after the plague started, after you were forced to close your shop and were looking for someway else to help the community.

✿ you ended up at julian's clinic's doorstep unexpectedly, looking to make use of your medicinal magic skills with the help of a real doctor. or, as close to one as you could get. julian opened the door expecting a patient, and instead got a stern looking magician asking to become his assistant. a few flustered stammers later he let you inside.

✿ julian gladly took you in as an apprentice after seeing your work, even with his apprehension towards magic. the two of you got close rather quickly, given how much time you were spending together prior to julian's call to the palace.

✿ after the initial surprise of seeing you on his doorstep, julian couldn't help but think of how pretty you were. a perfect alpha, though he'd never admit that that's what he thought. that, and he couldn't help but admire your talents with medicine. you mostly thought of julian as cute. stammery, dramatic, and extremely cute. a bit odd with his mannerisms, but his dedication to his craft is what really caught your attention. who wouldn't admire such passion for helping people?

≿━━━━༺❀ muriel ❀༻━━━━≾

✿ you were running a shop in vesuvia, working as a magician and trying to keep your rather new life intact. your familiar, a fallow deer named aldwyn, was especially taking your new city life badly.

✿ you were young adults at the time. your meeting was only shortly after you'd settled in vesuvia and asra started staying with you. not that asra was home at the time.

✿ you were out in the forest looking for herbs with aldwyn, who was leading you to all the best spots. he lead you to a small hut, with all kinds of helpful herbs growing around the area. then you got a faceful of wolf and had to be saved by a large omega smelling like all those herbs.

✿ muriel of course did his best to herd you away from his hut, but being the stubborn idiot that you are you kept returning back. it was the best place for herbs you'd found, and the cute omega was a delightful bonus of course.

✿ muriel mostly thought of you as weird. oh so weird. you were stubborn, oddly cheerful, and despite his gruff personality kept calling him cute. he was sure that inanna had knocked something lose in your head. at least your deer companion was cute. you were enamored with muriel immediately, almost sensing his gentle giant heart. and his grumpy pouts were far too cute to pass up on. so you decided immediately that you'd make it your life mission to bother him at his little hut as much as possible.

≿━━━━༺❀ portia ❀༻━━━━≾

✿ you were a travelling magician at the time, having only recently started your journey with your newly minted familiar, a ferret named leda. though really, you were just an apprenticing magician at the time. [☘]

✿ you were both so young, portia only a little over a decade and you in your early teens. julian had just left nevivon, and portia was still waiting for the day to go after him.

✿ you'd just arrived in nevivon, having heard about their salts and being interested in their possible magical properties. you were looking for someone to show you around when a bushy-haired little girl stepped onto your bath and offered to show you around. you of course took her offer, she was too cute to resist.

✿ portia showed you all around town, and eventually lead you to a place where you could purchase their famed salts. after a few tests, you got them to spark with magic, and it was over for you. portia spent the rest of your visit following you around in hopes of more magic.

✿ you were the most incredible thing portia had ever seen. your grand stories and magic tricks, oh she could just spend all her time listening to them! she was so sad to see you go when you had to leave to continue your journey. you thought portia was just the cutest thing ever, with her wild hair, boundless excitement and little button-nose. and so eager to see more of your magic! you'd never had someone so excited about something that felt so natural to you. you loved that feeling.

≿━━━━༺❀ lucio ❀༻━━━━≾

✿ when you truly first met lucio, you were incomprehensible and unknowning, but that's a memory lucio couldn't have and you lost. so, at the time of your actual first meeting you were a magician masquerading as a doctor.

✿ it was the start of the plague in vesuvia, you were in your mid-twenties and you had just started working at the palace to find a cure for the plague, one of the first to be called upon.

✿ you stepped into the count's bedroom, a few magical books with you and your familiar, a sphynx cat named primavera, hanging off your back. lucio spots you from his pet and calls you a servant, ordering you to bring him some water. he gets a surprise when you start laughing, and conjure a pitcher of magic for him.

✿ you spent most of lucio's early illness with him, taking care of him and trying to find ways to stop the plague from advancing. up until your eventual death you spent most of your waking-time by his side, looking after him and entertaining him.

✿ lucio was at first certain you were a hallucination made up by his illness, no way someone could be so perfect and beautiful. the moment your pissed off face broke into a melodious laughter he fell in love just a little bit. your soul knew he was it, this was it, but you yourself thought of him as a spoiled little brat. but primavera liked him immensely, so you decided that he was fine, and it didn't take that long for you to worm your way under his facade.

[ahamkara-apologist]

please hear me out. sagira comes back. and everyone comes together at the end of the story/raid to fuck up the Witness. and we get to see Osiris back to his peak as he unleashes hell with Saint

I appreciate how even tumblr agrees so much with bringing Sagira back that it sent your og ask (the one I'm answering rn) three times and your follow-up twice lmfao

But yeah if Cayde, (aka the guy whose death progressed the plot of the story more than he ever did when he was alive*) gets to come back, then I feel like Sagira should as well. I'm hesitant to think that we'll see her reuniting with Osiris- because I don't know if Osiris is gonna be in Final Shape when he was already in Lightfall- but I do really think that it's kinda a fucking shame that we never really got to see the full extent of Osiris's powers, given the fact that he was one of (if not the most) powerful Guardian who ever lived. Sure, we see his reflections and him popping a super in Curse of Osiris, but that's not even close to the shit he did in the lorebooks that I'd kill to see. And tbh, I'd love to see them reunite, reconcilliate over what happened, and then maybe have Osiris realize post-channeling her Light again that he really has found closure with losing it, sort of like driving past your childhood home and realizing that you've moved on for good. I also want Sagira herself to see that Osiris is okay, and that he's become more mellowed out (a teeny bit) now that he's living with Saint, allowed to do research on Strand, and has found fufillment in his job teaching Guardians on how to use it. They've been pair bonded for hundreds of years- thousands if you take into account the time distortion of the Infinate Forest- so it would be a massive wasted opportunity to not have Sagira as one of our guides, and for her to acknowledge how Osiris has grown without her. I think she'd be happy for him, even if the road to get there was hard and bittersweet.

As for the idea of bringing her back for good- it's kind of a mixed bag? I don't think that Cayde is gonna be undeaded at the end of Final Shape, so it probably wouldn't be the same for Sagira, and the arguments that people have about it undoing the whole purpose of their deaths certainly can apply there. (I also think that if Sagira was to ever be returned, it should be via the Young Wolf, Ikora, and Saint teaming up with the Sundial to do it once Mercury was returned, rather than through the Traveler itself.) But on the other hand, I think that Sagira differs slightly from Cayde in that bringing her back doesn't really undermine the impact that her absense had. For one, Cayde's death was a very fitting character beat for him; he always had a sad streak, buried grief from all he'd lost, so death wasn't something that was too jarring or terrible for him because he had lost loved ones presumably waiting for him on the other side (ex: his line 'I'm coming home, Ace'). It was also a fitting death, going out in a blaze of guns and glory, which I suspect is how he expected to die for a good long while- maybe even wanted. And his death was also a catalyst for a long chain of very undoable things to happen, the most prominent being the rise of Crow, and how he was shaped by Cayde's legacy. There is no going back from Cayde's death because of the sheer SIZE of the ripples it made.

(Personally, I think that Cayde being a ghost stuck in the Traveler Dimension doesn't exactly negate this at all, because if he's stuck in the dimension of what once-was in the Traveler, that still means Crow is needed to take his place as Hunter Vanguard- and there's a lot of potential there for Crow to meet him, come to peace with what Uldren did, and to gain the tutoring he needs in order to rise to that position. Cayde can pass on the mantle, endorse Crow to Ikora and Zavala so they don't feel guilty at giving his position to his once-murderer, and then his prescence in FS would be that last nick of closure needed to put him to rest. Which I think that he not only needs, but also wants.)

Sagira's death, on the other hand, was extremely in-character...and also extremely abrupt, and way more focused to a singular character- Osiris. It felt right that someone as stubborn and fiery and fiercely protective would have sacrificed herself to save him, and it was what allowed Savathun to posess him, but in terms of the death and the more widespread impact? Her death was abrupt, and the damage done by Savathun was reversable. Osiris himself was the one who suffered the most from her death (and Saint too, by virtue of being close to Osiris), but I'd argue that her death and its relation to him was less an earthquake chaining into a tsunami and closer to what Mara felt when Uldren died and was revived as Crow- a slap of cold water to the face. Osiris was stubborn, arrogant, entirely determined to save the whole universe by himself- and then his own actions lead to Sagira needing to sacrifice herself to save him, and he was suddenly forced to sit the fuck down and confront the sheer impossibility of his situation. He's mortal now. He's mortal, and he's vulnerable, and is now reliant on other people- so much so that it was Saint and Misraaks who saved his life, and barely. Before, he could just steamroll past all his limits and concerns- and he did- but now there are no second chances, and finally can see what that arrogance and high standards cost him. Sagira dying forced him not only to slow down, but also that he is no longer alone, and can rely on those he loves to solve the problems he used to try to take on by himself-problems far too big for only one man. It taught him how to process grief, and how to appreciate life instead of being so focused on the future that everything sped him by. And it taught him that not only was he no longer the exiled heretic warlock who did everything alone because he HAD to, but that he had a purpose beyond being a Guardian, and people other than Saint who valued and trusted him- people that he could trust in return.

Her death was the harshest lesson he'd ever been taught. Her death changed him. And that isn't something that can be undone, even if she returns and he becomes a full Lightbearer again. Truely, if she returns, it wouldn't have been for naught, because now Osiris has seen what happens when he Icarus dashes flies too close to the sun. It would just be an upgrade to the Osiris we have now, and might even soften him up further. Maybe. From super-hardass to hardass to medium-hardass, I suppose.

(And I really wanna see Ghost and her reunite, aaa. AND I want to see her meet Glint!! Just imagine the teasing that could happen if she met Glint)

Besides- Sagira is the ghost of the Phoenix. It would be fitting for her to return, and to potentially rise again. It wouldn't make sense for any ghost, but it would with her.

*Before anyone gets the wrong idea, I'm adding on a side note here that I don't think Cayde's prescence in Destiny pre-Forsaken was worthless, because it wasn't. He was a very beloved side character, and he did have his place in helping along other major storybeats, but it was BECAUSE he was the hypeman on the sides that his death became a major plot progressor. All that buildup of him being a steady constant was what cumulated in him dying being such a big bang. Sagira did the same, but the impact of her death was focused on Osiris rather than the Young Wolf

[threewaysdivided]

So, in YJDW, Danny is still very much a solo-hero type. I imagine that's going to potentially cause some issues down the road, both with learning how to work as an equal with other supers and bonding with them since his own hero development is so different from the Team's. No mentor, the discomfort that the nature of his powers can cause, the mixed history he DOES have that's public knowledge, and the lack of real exposure to the rest of the superhero sphere of influence.

(Young Justice: Deathly Weapons)

So this is interesting because you're completely right; those are things that should complicate Danny's interactions (and potential integration) with established heroes and hero teams.

However, the specifics of Danny's circumstances and road to joining the Team in Deathly Weapons kind of alleviate or sidestep a lot of those potential issues. At cost of giving him a new catalogue of complexes to deal with but beggars can't be choosers.

I think we discussed a few of the particulars a while ago in this post thread with @doodly-doop, so I might gloss over some of those finer points here.

Suffice to say that, if it was a immediately-post-series Phantom, there's a lot of potential stumbling blocks to do with him already having ingrained instincts/ strategic impulses/ reflexes/ fighting styles that are specifically geared towards him being the lone powerhouse/ point guard/ tank in a group of otherwise Badass Normal support members. (Compare Superboy, who might be best suited to the specific role of tank/ threat management but who knows most of his teammates can take hits that would incapacitate regular humans). There's also potential for personality clashes given that Phantom is somewhat used to being the de facto leader in his own environment, and also the possibility for him to be carrying some resentment over being left un-mentored or having to deal with ghost problems entirely by himself if it becomes clear that the others knew something was happening in Amity but chose not to intervene.

If you want fic recs, Communication Issues (DP x YJ) by @nerdofspades is specifically about the resentment thing, and the solo-act-joins-team-operation issue is something that comes up in MirrorandImage's DP x TT fic Ghost of A Chance.

When it comes to Deathly Weapons, the details of the setup have kind of brushed aside some of those issues or reduced their severity. Danny's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad nine months of being a fugitive in between leaving Amity and finding Batman (which we will learn more about in coming chapters) has made him a lot more amenable to feedback and groupwork.

Rather than being fresh from overt frontline heroing he's spent almost a year in hiding; a time where he and the rest of Team Phantom had to work a lot more collaboratively, in situations where Danny was very conscious that the others' skills and connections were just as, if not more important than his powers (which at times were even a liability since they could potentially be tracked). Trying to pull a solo-act or otherwise splitting up the group is a really risky move when you're being hunted, and it curbed a lot of the impulses that might have led him to break ranks or otherwise deviate from a team plan without checking in first.

It's also worn down a lot of his pride in a few ways. First, simply traveling around America has made him much more conscious of how small scale he and Amity Park are, both geographically and in the grand scheme of heroism. It's something he thinks about in Chapter 15:

Everything here was too big for him - the manor, Gotham City, Batman and Robin, top-tier heroes... Sure, maybe back in Amity he'd been something special. Or at least, half of him might have been. But if months on the road had shown him anything it was that, in the eyes of the world, Amity Park was just another small, no-name town. Just like he was. Small-town. -Roads to Safe Places (Chapter 15)

There's also the fact that he's just... extremely tired. Being the de facto head of a group in a time of crisis is an exhausting level of responsibility, especially when you have no reliable fallbacks and prohibitively huge consequences for failure. In Chapter 8, Danny is very resistant to cooperating with Batman and Robin, but that's not pride that's survival mode: Danny and Co. endured the last nine months primarily by being aggressively self-reliant and not trusting other people. (There's also a little bit of grief and survivor's guilt in the mix: a sense that this is his torch to bear alone, and that it wouldn't be fair to pass the burden.)

Part of him desperately wanted somebody to step in, to take the load. But that wasn't how it worked. This was his mess. He couldn't just shove it off onto someone else because he wasn't up to the challenge. - Interference (Chapter 9)

Not only that but Team Phantom did not do well during their time on the run - they sacrificed a lot just to get out of Amity Park and were mostly met with more losses as they went - which Danny feels responsible for as the one who was supposed to be leading them. In some ways Phantom and his team went through their own nine-month equivalent to the Failsafe training exercise, and Danny walked away from it with a similar mindset:

I was desperate to be in charge. Not anymore. - Robin, YJS1 E17 Disordered

Once he accepts that he can safely take the help, the suggestion of being on a Team where Batman, Aqualad (and sometimes Robin) are ultimately the ones responsible for calling the shots is less likely to be met with a how dare you as much as an oh thank god.

On top of that, the Danny of Deathly Weapons has a touch of literal hero-worship going on. This Danny grew up with the cultural presence of heroes on Earth-16; from the history of the Justice Society, to living through the formation of the Justice League. By the time he had the accident that turned him into Phantom, Robin, Aqualad, Kid Flash and Speedy would all have been publicly active as proteges for at least 6 months. And in the absence of a mentor of his own, well... I'm going to share a sneak-peak snippet from the CH21 draft:

Maybe it hit harder coming from other heroes.  From the kinds of people whose stories he’d looked to when he was first starting out - that some young, secret part of himself had fantasised might meet and understand him some day. - Equilibrium DRAFT (Chapter 21)

In combination, you might be able to see how the Danny of Deathly Weapons has been shifted just enough to the left of canon!Danny to play better with others. If anything, he's uncharacteristically passive and submissive in their first standalone mission due both to his unfamiliarity with the situation and stakes, and to all that baggage squashing him down. This is a Danny who has new raw patches exposed, but whose experiences have sanded away some of the edges that would otherwise have clashed with a teamwork setting.

It also helps that he's being placed on The Team specifically. Unlike say, the Teen Titans or Justice League, this is a covert squad that's doubling as a proving ground for starting proteges. Between Superboy, M'gann, Artemis and Zatanna they're pretty used to assimilating a mixed bag of powers and skills from members who don't have a lot of direct exposure to the rest of the superhero sphere. And because they're a covert squad whose main advantage lies in being unexpected and underestimated despite how often their plans seem to end in arson, they have their own motivation to stay as publicly invisible as they can manage, which not only lets Phantom operate with lower risk of being personally discovered, but also helps limit them and the League's potential exposure to ectophobic public sentiment.

That isn't to say that this Danny doesn't still carry some resentment or bitter feelings about how he's perceived and what he's been through (especially if someone whose name may or may not start with Kid and rhyme with Dash was to specifically antagonise him about it) but he comes to it with an additional nine months of perspective that make him more likely to respond to collaboration with a quiet sense of relief. At least once you can get past the defensive prickle and general awkwardness about accepting help.

This is all stuff I'm looking forward to elaborating on across the story and especially in the upcoming Flashpoints/ Combustion/ Equilibrium chapter set (CH19-21). It'll make more sense after those releases but hopefully this explains well enough for now.

Thanks for stopping by! 💜

[pjunicornart]

Random Thoughts About Cornelius/Lewis I think about way too often

Title is self explanatory. Mostly headcanons under the cut.

I wonder what else he's picky about? Why would he make a PB&J gun? Because he's like me. Portions on certain foods need to be EXACTLY TO MY SPECIFICATIONS otherwise I'll break down. So if he's picky about a simple PB&J, what else is he picky over? I think he doesn't like a lot of spaghetti sauce on pasta, or he just orders butter pasta. He probably never has any kind of liquid/creamy based thing on subs, like mayo or dressings. Also can't stand coconut. Just a vibe.

I don't think Neil tolerates heat very well. I feel like on really hot Summer days, the last thing he wants to do is go outside... unless it's to a pool. Because he gets heat sick very easily, and he feels like he's gonna puke but he knows he's not but because he feels like he is he's just in an eternal cycle of suffering. I'm not speaking from experience what are you talking about...

Loud/sudden loud noises are probably a sensitive thing for Cornelius. I feel like when he was younger he'd hate the sound of blenders, mixers, rumble strips on roads, lightning, etc. As well as shrill/cringe inducing noises such as styrofoam rubbing against styrofoam, crinkling/ripping/rubbing plastic, squeaky markers on whiteboards, buzzing from flies and bees, and squeaky shoes on linoleum floors.

Do you think Neil ever goes into one of those little travel bubbles and just kinda floats through the air? Like to be in a calming environment.

I think besides dogs, he also wants a pet snake. It was like that when he was a kid, and as an adult, he still wants a pet snake.

Cornelius has a very specific way of doing things, and if you mess up that system by cleaning his mess for him, you're dead!

I think in general he has sleep issues. Especially when Neil is on business trips. He's only comfortable (and used to) sleeping in his own environment, so any other environment messes with his routine enough to make him toss and turn.

In case it wasn't already obvious, I think Cornelius is autistic. Self diagnosed later on down the line. I feel like the physical symptom he displays the most (aside from fidgeting) is toe walking.

Let's face it... Lewis in the movie is kind of an irritable jerk. But I think this is explained by his past. He always keeps his guard up and he never wants to get close to anybody because they always leave him. Hence why he scolds himself for letting himself think Wilbur was a friend, rather than scolding Wilbur for lying after he found out.

He didn't like frogs at first because "Ew, slimy."

He was definitely the type to always get picked last in gym class. Neil can't catch a ball to save his life... but he is a pretty fast runner.

Another vibe I get, but I feel like there were those times when he wished Mr. Willerstein could be his dad. He was essentially the only thing close to a father figure he had in his life before he got adopted. We don't see much screen time with them interacting, but it's clear Lewis and Mr. Willerstein had a pretty good teacher-student relationship. Hell, I even feel like Lewis would prefer to spend his lunch hour with his teacher instead of in the cafeteria with everybody being loud and annoying.

If Neil is gonna play any game, it's gotta have good puzzles. So what I'm saying is he probably played a lot of Professor Layton. But because he grew up during the DS, Wii, and Gamecube era, he's probably nostalgic for those Zelda games (Twilight Princess, Ocarina of Time, Skyward Sword), Mario games (New Bros. Wii, Mario Kart Wii, Galaxy 1 & 2, Mario Kart DS, Mario Party DS, Double Dash, Sunshine, Paper Mario), as well as the Metroid and Megaman games which would've been in circulation during that time period. For some reason, I don't think he was ever interested in Pokemon. I feel like that's more Franny's schtick.

Cornelius does NOT like horror games. Unless it's FNaF, because it's not actually scary most of the time.

He either sleeps in the softest blankets known to man or he ain't sleeping at all.

Neil may be one of the smartest men on Earth, yes, but he still has his dumb moments. Like when he's trying to find the syrup in the pantry for his pancakes, and he can't find it so he asks Wilbur for help. Then Wilbur proceeds to find the bottle of syrup that was right in front of Neil's face the whole time, and he somehow didn't register its existence.

Lewis prefers longer socks to normal length socks, because he blisters easily. But also because there are more fun varieties.

Frogs he can learn to love. But small, spindly spiders? NOPE NOPE NOPE. Tarantulas? He loves them because they're fuzzy and the perfect petting size! But the minute the spiders get smaller he is OUT. He hates bugs in general, really. The minute he finds a spider, ant, bee, or any bug in his house he will bomb the residence then move to Mars.

[forbidden-creepypasta]

Breakdown

Honestly don't think it's developed or good enough for the main site, but if you feel otherwise, go ahead and use it.

This is NOT my Halloween contest submission. I was working on this before that was announced.... it just happens to be on Halloween night. I hope you guys like it.... I don't think it came out that well. If you have any input or plot-twist ideas to make it better please let me know.

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For Randy, Halloween night was never about the costumes, the candy, getting belligerent under the influence of various substances, or attractive women with an excuse to dress in ways that would be considered anything less than downright promiscuous on any other date or time. Getting laid was a plus, of course, but only a side bonus.

No, rather, Halloween was about the music. There was always a kick-ass concert on Halloween night, depending on how far you were willing to travel. In the past ten years, he'd been to some great shows, but Metallica had taken the gold by far. They were closing with "Ride the Lightning," now, after a roar from the crowd demanding an encore after a good three hours of massive, fast-paced shredding. He'd brought two lighters this time, instead of one. He was hopped up, completely engrossed in their performance; the pounding hit of Lars Ulrich's bass drum rocked his innards to the very core, and James Hetfield's raspy voice was like hot chocolate to his ears. He was almost upset that it was over. Almost. The only downside is that his shoulder was itching badly.... the scar, it had never quite healed up completely.

He lost himself in the music, but he wasn't like the others. It wasn't the sound itself, or the euphoria and testosterone that got flowing when he heard some good heavy riffs. He saw things in his mind that were indescribable. They were amazing, vivid dreams that seemed real, happening in real-time.... an escape from his normal, miserable existence in to a mental paradise. It was the perfect getaway, and he'd always had the ability, since he got the scar when he was ten.

He had to be at work the next morning, and so as the thousands of people crowded out of the venue that had been the site of the most glorious rock concert he'd ever witnessed, he finally got his car out of the parking lot and on to the highway about ninety minutes later. He had a four hour drive ahead of him.

He thumped the dashboard with his index finger, tapping the rhythm to the live recorded CD he'd purchased of the show on his way out.

"Take my hand..... off to never never land...."

He'd been driving for around two hours, and he was around halfway to his apartment, by his estimations. He was taking the back roads, trying to evade road blocks, Halloween night chaos, and in general, any measure of trouble whatsoever.

"Suicide.... I already died...."

He felt the engine of his old Monte Carlo start to shudder, and a few moments later, his RPM's were somewhere up in the seven thousand range, and his speed was dropping by a good ten miles per hour every few seconds.

"Cyanide.... living dead inside...."

Something was wrong, and as he pulled over to the side of the country bumpkin, one-lane road that he was traveling on, he cursed loudly, slamming his fists in to the steering wheel. His ride had petered out to a complete stop on the shoulder.

"FUCK," he exclaimed, popping his hood only to find a torrent of white smoke and the sizzling sound of a blown radiator. His stereo was still pounding, full blast. As he reached in towards his console to turn on his hazard lights, he switched off "Sanitarium."

Randy was a good old boy when you got right down to it. Generally, he was the guy who came home, propped up his feet, watched the news, ate a steak, and passed out in his easy chair drinking beer until it was time to wake up and go to work. It was a grind, a cycle, but it was a lifestyle that fit. Randy didn't want much of anything else, except a kickass show now and then. Of course his car would overheat and blow its gasket on one of the few nights a year that he actually went out to do something. Halloween night, of all nights.

He looked up at the half-clouded autumn night sky, and a wave of the "willies" swept over his shoulders in a brief spasm. This was the first time that he could remember a full moon on Halloween night since he was a kid. Yeah. THAT night. He reached backward through the collar of his shirt to scratch his shoulder-scar again, then he took some of the heated radiator water and splashed a bit on the surface. Odd, really. It hadn't bothered him for years.

He flipped open his aging cell phone to call Triple A, and, to no surprise, he had no coverage. Of course not. He was in the middle of bum-fuck Egypt. He could start walking, or he could wait for another passerby. Either way, he'd be stuck here awhile. Just then, his stereo came to life, the sound blaring in his ears. He'd switched it off, but had he turned down the volume? He reached in to his pocket, and felt the familiar, and somehow terrifying "clinking" of his car keys.

"EXIT....... LIGHT....."

This was the first time the sound of Hetfield's voice terrified him, because he shouldn't have been singing. How was it possible? He walked around the front of his car, and sure enough, nothing else was on.... the hazard lights that had been flashing moments ago were off, his car was dead by all mechanical standards... and yet, there was his CD player console, thriving with life, with old-school 80's metal. Dread overcame his senses as he read the digital scrolling marquis across its surface.

"Give it back, Randy."

He'd made every attempt to play the tough guy, the roughneck man who'd blocked out that Halloween when he was ten years old. He probably should have been in therapy, considering what had happened, but instead, he played it tough, like his dad had always told him. "Play it tough. Whining never got nobody nowhere, son."

Therapy wouldn't have helped his ass, anyway. He wasn't crazy. It was back, plain as day.... no one around to see it in the pitch darkness except him, but by God, it was REAL. He knew, not because his CD player was possessed, not because he was stranded in the middle of nowhere.... but because he was itching. He'd taken the gift, the treat, and it was his fault. No one else's.

It wasn't out to get him because he was unlucky. He owed them a debt.... he'd made the bargain, signed the contract.

He ripped at the buttons of his flannel shirt and clawed at the itching protrusion of flesh. It was peeling off in long, dripping strands, but it felt so much better to expose it to the night air, to get it out there. It was that mark. That fucking symbol that the crazy bitch had carved in to his skin while he'd been held down by the dead hands and the black cloaks. It was pulsating in his skin, like a living, breathing distress beacon, that called to the black thing. He'd tried his damndest, all these years, to stifle the images of the black thing in his head, but it was impossible to seal out now. He could hear it, a long ways off, coming to him in this desolate place, because the mark told it to. It was time. The stereo was on again.

"AND IT ALL CRASHES DOWN. AND YOU BREAK YOUR CROWN......."

She was pretty. That's what he remembered. That's why he went inside. She didn't have those shitty orange and black candies that you could get a million of for a buck at the store. She'd had GOOD stuff, like Milky Ways and Snickers bars, and the smell from inside was so sweet. He liked chocolate, but that sweet smell, it was heaven to his head. He wanted the sweetness with him, always.

"Trick or treat, Randy?"

She knew his name, and he'd chosen treat, and he'd walked in to the room with the figures in the robes, to the middle of the circle. That's where the smell came from... from a small little ball of green light. It was beautiful, and he had to have it. He knew it was the greatest thing in the world.... what he needed. He'd make any deal, any bargain, to have it.

"KING NOTHING!"

When they put him in the circle, he tried to fight, of course. He'd agreed to take what they offered, at a price. He'd been the best hitter on his little league team, and when his little ten-year-old knuckles had hit one of the robes straight in the kisser, it almost shattered his fingers. He'd knocked the hood away, for a moment, before they'd slammed their bony hands in to his neck and forced him to the floor. He hadn't punched a face. It was a skull, and that was the last thing he saw except for the dirty, filth-ridden wooden floors of the blonde lady's dining room.

He'd FELT everything after that. The carving, the blood trickling down the small of his back, the chants.... and, when that was finished, the black thing, shrieking with a terrible ferocity in his mind's eye. The sphere had been implanted. They'd put the little sphere inside him, and he could see everything in a new light. Over time, the music brought it to life, created the fantasy in his head with more vivid and delicious detail.... but, in the last second, every time, at the conclusion of each song.... he always saw the black thing. As if to say, "Yes, Randy. This is wonderful. This is amazing, but one night, the black thing will win."

Best concert. Full moon. Car trouble. It all added up. This was that night. It was time.

They'd never told him the stickler, about the ass end of the deal. He knew, sometime, that he would meet the thing. And, strangely enough, all the travels he'd made in his head, in the middle of his easy chair with his stereo.... he had to admit, it was all worth it.

The trees shook with a heavy shudder, and he felt the throbbing in his back, as if his entire body were about to implode around that little sphere. As the black thing emerged through the highway forest line and swept him up within it, to take back what rightfully belonged to it, he could hear the fading sounds of his stereo in the distance.

"So build a wall.... behind it crawl .....And hide until it's light .... "

Credit to: Violent Harvest

[yourlocalmultifandom]

BAMS POV

Part Two

"Shh!" I demand, staring at Ville. He nodded, slowly creeping down the hallway behind me.

He'd only just arrived about five minutes ago and we were already on our merry way down the hall to cause trouble. I quietly open the door to my sisters room, more than happy to wake her up. She was sound asleep, face down and dead to the world. Ape should've known better than to ask me and Ville to get Danni. Ville shakes his head at me, somewhat disapproving of my antics, but I ignore him. I walk to the edge of Danni's bed, radio in hand. I set my plan in action, sitting my radio on the pinstripe nightstand and turning it on. The second the music starts blaring, I jump on top of her, throwing an elbow to the side of her head. She immediately pushes my face away to the best of her ability, grumbling and furrowing her brow.

"Wake up!" I laugh, wrestling with her.

"Goddammit, get off me!" She yells, she's always such a grump. She finally gets twisted over and grips my hair, holding my head beside her ribs and punching the side of my neck with her free hand. Bad choice. I bite the skin on her ribs, earning a yelp and getting a knee to the stomach. I punch her in the hip opposite of my head, trying to get some leverage.

"I brought you a present!" I yell, tugging on her hair the second she slaps me, but she isn't giving up. "Let go of my head!" I plead, still attached to her side.

"I bet you did!" She spits, kneeing me in the thigh.

"Ow! I did! Look, it's Ville!" I say, suddenly she pauses. I still can't see anything besides the fabric of her shirt, so I only assume she's looking at him. She lets go of my hair and pushes me into the floor. I grunt, shaking my head and sitting up.

"Ville!" She cheers, running past me.

I look up, smiling as I climb to me feet. He stood awkwardly, his arms loosely wrapped around her while she nearly choked him with her grip. He kisses her cheek right as she turns her head, almost causing them to kiss.

"Ew be careful, people will think you're into each other" I laugh, catching their attention. Poor saps.

"I missed you, too" he smiles.

"Oh my God! I have missed you so much!" She stares at him, cupping his face.

I'm honestly glad to see his return, especially for her. It's no secret that Danni tends to steer towards a bad crowd and I can't always keep an eye on her, but she seems to calm down a lot when Villes around.

"We've so much to catch up on" he smiles at her.

"Yeah, like why you're letting him beat me up"

"I thought you were winning"

"Okay that's fair" she smiles. "Bam, come on, let's go"

"Where?" I stare, walking past her.

"Anywhere, we can't just force him to stay in the house all the time"

"I'd rather spend the day doing whatever you want" he says, tapping her arm. "Especially since you don't work at the owl place anymore and actually have time for me"

"Owl place?" She says, scrunching her face up. "I never worked with owls"

"No, when you were blonde and tan, you know the restaurant with the owls and the good food"

"Oh! Hooters!"

"Yes!"

"Ah, okay, yeah I don't work there at the moment so we can definitely hang out all the time"

"Why'd you leave school?"

"Because I'm happier here doing this" she shrugs.

"Well, if you ever want to jerk up your guitar or violin, I'd be happy to drag you on the road with us"

"That would be nice, I'd love to travel with my favorite person"

"He's my friend" I reminded her, rolling my eyes. "I'm the cooler twin, go braid your hair or call Jenn or something" I said, gripping Ville's arm and walking away with him.

"Don't be jealous" he teased.

"You're gonna make her think she's cool"

"She is cool"

"Ville..."

"What? I enjoy your sisters company very much"

"Dude, come on, she's lame"

"She is not. She's great to be around, I wish you'd see that"

"Whatever man, we've got the whole day ahead of us" I shrug, walking outside with him.

I wish that were the end of it, but like always, Danni had something up her sleeve.

[seidenbros]

Hey love ❤️ can I request “ can’t sleep, huh? it’s okay. it’s probably all that adrenaline and shock; i can’t sleep, either. wanna keep each other company? “ + cling for Jaskier x reader? ❤️

Me dearest ❤️ This was actually such a CUTE request and I think... Well... I may have taken it a bit further than I had wanted in the first place. Whenever I start writing, I seem to have no control over what I write in the end. (I’m always happy to receive requests, so if you want to, send some in. If you need inspiration, here are some prompt lists )

Pairing: Jaskier x Reader Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, blood, injuries Word count: 2303

You were able to fight, had learned that early on in your life, even before you'd joined the Witcher and the bard on their journey, but you'd never actually had to fight, to fend for your life. It had been you father, who'd taught you how to defend yourself, how to wield a sword, because he'd wanted you to be safe out there in the world, never sure what you might face. So early on, he'd taught you a lot of things, and now you knew that it was because he'd already known then that he was sick, that it had only been a matter of time until you were on your own, seeing that you mother had died while she'd brought you into this world. He'd told you about his sickness very late, mere days before he'd drawn his last breath, and even now you wished you would have known earlier, had cherished the time with him more. But by then, it had made sense to you, that he'd been so set on getting you ready to face the world.

For some time you'd been able to stay at your home, but you'd wanted to leave for some time. You'd promised your father to go out there and see the world, you had your bags packed, ready to leave when your whole village was overrun. At least, you were kind of prepared, had been able to grab your stuff, get on your horse and run. For a long while you'd gotten around on your own really well, you'd seen places your father had always talked about, places he'd wanted to see, so you visited them to honour him.

By now, you can't even remember when you'd started travelling with the two. After meeting up again and again, since you'd had the same route, you'd decided to hit the road together. That way you weren't alone, and Geralt didn't have to listen to every single word Jaskier said or sung, because the bard now had to divide his attention between the two of you. You didn't mind, no, you actually liked listening to his silly stories, but more so to his songs. His voice when he sang was something that crawled beneath you skin, settled there and left a nice, warm feeling there. It sounded silly even to yourself, but then again, you weren't the one who was good with words. You were good at a lot of other things though. You were an excellent fighter, Geralt had told you so, when you'd practised a little, because he'd wanted to see what you were made of. So far, you hadn't had to wield your sword against anyone, you'd only threatened someone so far, but Geralt had been there in a second, so they'd backed off. Until today...

Today.., you'd killed someone. Not a monster like Geralt did, you killed a man. Though Geralt as well as Jaskier had told you that that man had been a monster, you couldn't shake the feeling that it had been wrong. You were only alone for a short time, taking a stroll along the riverside, dipping your feet in the water while the two men had visited an old friend, making sure you had a place to stay for the night. You could have stayed at an inn, but they'd wanted to catch up with their friend, and that was fine with you. But while you were out here, you wanted to enjoy the weather a little. In addition, it felt good to have some time alone, to enjoy the silence, or rather the sounds of nature.

It was getting late, dark, you were ready to head back, when you realized you weren't alone. Fear settled in your bones, making you quicken your pace. Your sword was at the cottage you were staying at, because why would you need that here and now? But you had your dagger, it was always there. You fingers found the handle, gripped it tight, before you spun around to face the person following you.

“Don't get any closer!” you warned, the blade of the dagger gleaming in the pale light that was left from the day.

“You really think you can stop me?” He grinned at you, but it sent shivers down your spine. You'd been in the vicinity of monsters twice his size, but right now, you were more scared than you'd ever been before.

“I know how to use it, don't put me to the test.”

But he did. He had you by the throat in no time, just one quick move and he was trying to strangle you, his other hand reaching for yours that held the dagger, trying to get you to let go. But you didn't. Instead you acted quickly, used your free hand not to try and keep him from cutting of your air, but to hit him right in the solar plexus. His grip on you loosened, because you'd hit just the right spot, and he tumbled back a little, trying his best to regain his composure, but you were quicker, even though you were still gasping for air. It was now or never, because he was stronger than you, but you sprang forward, lunged at him and used your dagger. The first time, you'd really used it to hurt someone. You'd aimed for his throat and you'd hit your target. You'd not only hurt him, you'd killed him quickly and effectively. Your heart was racing, making your head feel so dizzy that for a moment, you were just sitting there, right next to his body, staring at the lifeless eyes, the blood that pooled beneath his head, the blood on your hands. His blood.

Gods what had you done? Your father had prepared you to fight, to defend yourself, but nobody had ever told you what to do afterwards, how to handle that situation. Nobody was anywhere close, you were all on your own, but you had two people you could count on, two people you needed right now. Two people – or at least one – who knew what to do. Without wasting another minute or another thought – because you didn't know what to do anyway – you started running, the adrenaline rushing through your blood, not letting you feel how tired you really were, that you were still having trouble breathing. What he'd tried to do to you was visible on your throat.

The blood on your hands was already drying when you all but stumbled through the door to the cottage. It was your luck that the door wasn't locked, otherwise, you would have probably hit your head against it. Three pairs of eyes were on you immediately, taking you in. Geralt was on his feet and by your side straight away, looking you over for any injuries because of the blood. He found your eyes, the unasked question hanging in the air.

“This... it's not my blood.” And you were damn lucky that it wasn't. “It's... he tried to...” You licked your lips, trying to regain your composure, but everything around you was starting to spin. Geralt cradled your elbow to lead you to a seat. Now, that was better.

“Your throat!” It was Jaskier's voice that brought you back. Jaskier who saw the red marks on your throat.

“Yes...” Chewing on your bottom lip, you cast your eyes downwards, looking again at your bloody hands. Blood that you'd shed. “He followed me and then... he attacked me and I just...” Swallowing hard, you tried to hold back the tears.

“You did nothing wrong, Y/N. He tried to kill you, you defended yourself.” Geralt's voice was unusually gentle, so was his touch to your chin to make you look up so that he could get a good look at your throat. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I guess...” You still had a little trouble breathing, but you didn't mention it right now. It was nothing really, compared to what could have been.

“I'll take care of the situation. Don't worry anymore, okay?” Geralt bent down to press a kiss to the top of your head, before he left. He didn't need you to tell him where that guy was, he just had to follow the stench,

“Come with me.” Your attention was drawn to the friend you were staying with. Jaskier wasn't able to look at you right now, and you didn't know why. Right now, you didn't really think at all anymore, you just acted, followed their friend. They helped you wash your hands, wash your body and get into some new and clean clothes. It was necessary, you knew that, but you didn't have the strength to act on your own. Thankful for the help, you managed to smile at them, which was all the thanks they needed. They put you in the room that was meant for you, and told you to get some rest.

“Everything will be better in the morning,” they said to you, before closing the door.

You tried! You really tried to get some sleep, but couldn't. Your body felt tired, completely worn out, but your mind was racing. For hours, you did your best, but still couldn't fall asleep. The voices outside the door had long gone quiet, everyone gone to bed, as you assumed, which was why you ventured outside. Maybe, another glass of water would do the trick, though that had never helped you before. Tea? Not really. But you were willing to try anything. There was still a light on in the room, and you could make out Jaskier's face in the dim light, who looked up at you immediately.

“Can't sleep, huh?” he asked, putting his book aside and getting up. “It's okay. It's probably all the adrenaline and shock.” Ever so slowly, as if he might scare you away, if he walked and faster, he made his way over to you. Forgotten was the water that you'd gotten up to get, once Jaskier was standing in front of you, looking down at you, carefully reaching for your hand. “I can't sleep either. Wanna keep each other company?” If it weren't for the situation at hand, you would probably think that he was flirting. You couldn't answer, you simply nodded. “You should probably lie down again.” Another nod. He was right, it was the most comfortable option.

You were the one to lead the way to your bedroom. A little unsure you stood there, until Jaskier took the lead and settled down in your bed, getting comfortable. He opened his arms for you, patting the spot next to him. Slowly, carefully, you crawled onto the bed, next to him. Jaskier pulled you close to his side, making you curl into him.

“I was so worried about you,” he confided quietly, laying his hand on your back to keep you close to him. He started drawing circles with his fingertips, making you close your eyes, because it felt yo good. “I just didn't know what to say. Seeing you like that...” Jaskier swallowed hard, reaching up his other hand to brush his fingertips across your cheek, letting them linger there a little longer. “I'm just glad that you knew how to defend yourself. You did the right thing.”

“I know.” Whispered words against his chest, before you opened your eyes again, lifting you head a little to meet his gaze. “I just... it feels...” You were at a loss for words again, when the tears started flowing. So far, you'd been able to hold them back, but right now, in the quiet, in the dark, alone with the bard, you were able to let go.

“Shhh it's okay, Y/N.” Jaskier pulled you on top of him, one hand still resting on your back, the other was combing through your hair again and again. “Let it all out.” And you did. You cried all the tears you'd been holding back since the incident that kept replaying in your head, making you question whether you'd done the right thing. But Geralt and Jaskier were right, you didn't have another choice.”I've got you!” His words made your fingers curl against his chest before you held on tight to his shirt.

Your head lay on his chest, his shirt already completely soaked from your tears, but listening to his heartbeat calmed you down, made the tears ebb away – or maybe, there were no more tears left to cry. Whatever it was, it felt good. The fear, the pain, the dread, all of it wasn't completely gone, but for the moment it had left you here alone with the bard.

“Your shirt is all wet now,” you whispered, wiping the rest of the tears away, when you raised your head for a moment. This really wasn't what you'd expected to happen, but it had been what you'd needed the most this evening.

“Ah, that will dry, but you shouldn't lie in your own tears,” he said with a chuckle, before he carefully sat up, taking you with him, to take off his shirt. “There... better.” Jaskier smiled down at you, before he lay back again, pulling you with him. “Try to get some sleep, okay? I'll be here to watch over you.” He placed his hand in the small of your back, beginning to draw circles with his fingers again, because he'd realized that it had helped you relax before. Once more he leaned forward to kiss your forehead, but then he closed his eyes as well. It didn't take long for you to fall asleep, listening to his steady heartbeat. But Jaskier fell asleep as well, knowing you were safe by his side.

[hollandsmoose]

kiss me more

A/N: Kinda thought a lot about "Kiss Me More" by Doja Cat and SZA a lot when writing this. So here you go, my lads, here's 1.6k of basically just pure blowjob smut!

—————

The movie playing on the TV in Tom’s room is long forgotten, his lips on yours far more important right now. It had barely been on for ten minutes before his hand was up your shirt, his mouth on yours, and you were pinned underneath him. But, to be honest, it's what you expected to happen.

Freshly returned from filming in another country, Tom has barely let you leave his side. He's always been clingy after reuniting with you, but, this time, it's on a whole new level. You can hardly complain, though - not with the amount of times he's made you cum in the last week.

Sadly, all of that had to come to a temporary end. Your period made its arrival, and while you knew it was going to happen, it bummed you out nonetheless. So when Tom's hand glides down your front, toying with the waistband of your sweatpants, you're forced to pull away from his kiss.

"Tom…" you pant, breathless, and he gives you a somewhat worried look. "I'm on my period, remember?"

"Oh, shit, yeah," he says, exhaling rather deeply, and even though he tries to hide it, his disappointment is still clear. "I'll keep my hands to myself, then." He shifts a little when moving his hand up to rest beside your head, and as he does, you get to feel just how disappointed he is. His bulge, hard and firm, presses into your thigh, and it gives you an idea.

You may not really be able to get off right now, but that doesn't mean Tom can't. When he leans down to kiss you again, you gladly accept it. Your hand travels down to where his cock is straining against his sweats, palming him through the soft fabric, and you can't help but giggle when Tom helplessly moans into your mouth.

He breaks the kiss, his eyebrows raised. "What are you playing at, darling?"

You grin at him, offering a small shrug. "I just wanna make you feel good, Tommy," You emphasize your words by rubbing his bulge again, and he whines, unable to stop himself from grinding into the palm of your hand.

"But what about you?"

"It doesn't have to be about me," you say, placing a soft peck on his chin. "You've been loving on me all week. Let me love on you a little," He's just about to protest, but then you put your finger over his lips, shutting him up. "Let me make you feel good. Please?"

He hesitates for a moment, but then he nods and presses a kiss to the tip of your finger. You giggle, your heart fluttering, and Tom smiles at the sound of your laugh. After that, he rolls off you and lands on the mattress, the springs squeaking slightly at the movement.

You crawl down the bed and climb off it until you're kneeling on the floor at the foot end. You gently tug on his legs, and he gets the hint, shuffling down the length of the bed. Tom sits up, inhaling sharply at the sight of you on your knees for him, and enthusiastically helps you peel off his sweatpants and boxers. His cock springs up once it's freed from its confinement, hard and already leaking precum from the tip. You're just about to reach out to touch him when he interrupts.

"Wait!" Tom speaks out, and you halt instantly. "Can you… can you take your shirt off?" You snort at his request. You'd actually been worried about him for a second there. Nevertheless, you pull your T-shirt over your head, rolling your eyes at the way he ogles your chest, now only covered by a bra. “That’s my girl.”

With a smile, you finally touch him. You spread the precum over his tip, and Tom sucks in a breath, his thighs clenching and his cock twitching. Teasing him is always fun. He lets out a strangled whimper when you withdraw your hand and spit in the palm of it, well aware of what's going to happen now. His hands grip the edge of the mattress as you finally grasp his length, and you quite enjoy the groan that escapes him.

You start with slow strokes, warming him up gently, and the way he bites his lip to hold back a moan has your pussy clenching around nothing. Fuck, he looks good. You watch Tom intently as he reacts to your touch, and it makes you giggle when you see just how quickly he gets worked up, his cheeks pink and his breath labored. You've always had that effect on Tom, but, to be fair, he's always had the same effect on you too. Even his mere touch is enough to send you into overdrive.

When he releases that telltale, drawn-out whine you know so well, you remove your hand from him. He's getting close, and this isn’t the way you want him to cum. And just when Tom’s about to complain, you lean in further and place a little kiss on his tip, and the words die on his lips.

You begin by just giving him a few kitten licks, but it's enough to make him gasp your name, and you suspect that this really won't take long at all. You rest your hands on his thick thighs, caressing the firm muscles softly. In all honesty, you've lost count of just how many times you've fallen apart on his thighs.

Feeling yourself get distracted, you try and shake off your thoughts so you can get back to business. Back on track, you make your tongue travel up from the base of him, and his cock twitches delightfully when you swirl the tip of your tongue around the head. You're teasing Tom again at this point, and it is a bit unfair, to be honest, but it's fun to watch how desperate he gets. Maybe, if the situation was different, he'd scold you for teasing him like this and leave your ass bruised and sore as punishment, but the ball seems to be in your court today.

"Please, darling," he begs, impatient and needy. "Please just… do something."

"You're gonna have to be more specific than that, Tommy," you say with a voice you barely recognize. It's low and seductive, but it makes you feel quite powerful. "Tell me what you want."

He exhales shakily. "I want… I want your mouth on me… on my cock. Please, love?"

You shrug rather smugly. "Well, since you asked so nicely…"

And then you finally give him what he wants. With a deep breath, you take Tom in your mouth. His reaction is instant, his thighs jerking slightly under your touch, and your name falls from his lips in a moan. Your hand wraps around the base of his cock and moves in sync with your mouth, knowing that that's just how he likes it. You go slow and steady; you don't want Tom to topple over the edge just yet.

His hands are still gripping the mattress, his knuckles white, and you know he's trying his hardest not to buck into your mouth. Tom never wants to hurt you - at least, never without your consent. And while you do let him fuck your mouth from time to time, it's not what you want today.

But, as a treat, you pull away from him for a second, inhaling deeply before you wrap your lips around him again and take him as far as you can. When the tip of his cock touches the back of your throat, he practically shouts out a string of profanities, and it's so loud that you're sure the others in the house must've heard. It doesn't matter much to you right now, though. Let them hear.

You're fighting off your gag reflex, trying to breathe through your nose, and tears are forming in your eyes, but Tom looks so pretty that you don't give up just yet. So you keep your head where it is until he, rather unwillingly, pulls you up himself.

He's completely breathless, needing a few seconds before he can even speak. "Babe, I'm… I'm close," You can't help but smile when you hear just how affected he is.

You appreciate Tom's warning, returning to your previous tactic, your lips around the head of him and your hand jerking the base. His one hand lets go of the mattress and caresses your cheek instead, and when you look up to make eye contact, Tom's staring at you with such a wonderful mixture of lust and love that it makes both your pussy and your heart melt a little.

He gasps in that special way you've picked up on by now, and you know what's about to happen. Drawing back a little, you rest the tip of his cock on the tip of your tongue, and, with one last jerk of your hand, he finally gets to cum.

Tom curses uncontrollably as he paints your tongue white, his hand now holding your jaw in place. His head is leant back, his eyes screwed shut, and his mouth is half-open. He looks absolutely beautiful.

You watch him as he slowly comes down from his high, his eyes blinking open and finding your face immediately. And Tom watches you as you swallow his cum and put on a little show for him, licking your lips for any leftovers.

"Fucking hell," he says, completely overwhelmed, and falls back against the bed, and you laugh, satisfied with your work. You crawl onto the bed as well, settling on top of him. "You're gonna be the death of me, darling."

—————

taglist: @spideycents @linanilssonfurberg @to-the-road @hallecarey1 @harryhollandsgirlfriend

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑭𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝑫𝒐𝒘𝒏 (𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒊 𝑺𝒂𝒏) 𝑹𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐧 (𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳)/ 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞)

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐍𝐨𝐧-𝐈𝐝𝐨𝐥! 𝐀𝐔

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞/ 𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭, 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐱 (𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧)

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟓.𝟓𝐊

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐒𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬.

𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐉𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬

ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.

Taking the milkshake glasses off the counter and making sure the space was throughly wiped down and sanitized, San's eyes looked up when the familiar midnight blue Nissan sedan, whose model he'd never given a damn to memorize, parked in front of the restaurant, signaling the arrival of the person working the closing shift that day. His heart practically somersaulted when he caught glimpse of the soft, silky [insert color] hair stepping out of the vehicle, the owner such pretty hair owning an equally beautiful face. While his heart pounded, his stomach turned sick when he saw the driver come out as well, going over to where she was, whispering a goodbye in her ear. To anyone passing by, it'd look like a normal couple, a boyfriend bringing his girlfriend to work and giving her a kiss, no doubt promising to pick her up later.

But San knew better.

His eyes always caught on to the way she stepped back slightly, her arm folding across her body when his hand reached out to caress it, his fingers no doubt gripping down harshly on her skin. She didn't kiss him back, she just allowed him to place his lips momentarily on hers before patting her cheek lightly with his palm and soon going back to his vehicle and driving away. He watched her take a deep breath before she felt ready to go inside and start her shift.

"Hey Y/N!" He did his usual friendly and warm way of greeting her, his smiling eyes and dimples putting a genuine smile on her own somber countenance.

"Hi San. How's it been?" She inquired as she punched her number in.

Shrugging his shoulders, he sighed.

"Same as almost every Wednesday. Dead, boring and mostly the regulars or just travelers."

She shook her head, already mentalizing herself that it'd be another day spent cleaning what's already clean and over stocking the merchant just to pass time. She went inside the office to put on her uniform shirt and apron. San in no way ever peeked in to see her cause he was a pervert, he respected her and would never allow himself to think of any inappropriate scenarios involving her. However, he would always sneak a tiny glance every now and then for one particular reason. Tilting his head slightly so he could see through the tiny cracked door, he watched her take off her denim jacket and felt his grip tighten on the glass cup he was currently drying when he spotted some purple blotches on her bicep. He immediately looked away as he did not want to get angry in front of her. He hastily put the cup back in the shelf under the counter, throwing the rag onto the marble counter in a rather aggressive manner.

"Ok San, tell me what needs to be finished."

Coming out in full uniform and hair held up with her usual choice of a colored scrunchie, this day choosing yellow, Y/N looked at her coworker and waited for him to give her a task.

"Nothing really except wait on customers. I already stocked the fridge and pulled out the stuff needed from the freezer."

He was always doing that, doing not only his side workload but also hers, which more often than not had her pouting at him.

"So I'll just be bored to death?" She huffed.

Chuckling, San stepped closer to her, making sure to keep an elbow distance from her, knowing she tended to get apprehensive when someone came to close to her than she was comfortable with.

"Not really. There's plenty of things to amuse yourself with. Besides.......maybe now you won't hurt yourself so much from lifting heavy objects..."

His tone lowered involuntarily at that last part. He knew very well the bruises weren't cause she'd accidentally hit herself on the railings in the back because she lost her balance carrying stuff in and out of the freezer. She herself tensed up a little at his words.

"Oh right......heh.....clumsy me right?" She tried to plaster an unfazed smile on her face, only succeeding about halfway.

Unable to control his movements, San's hand reached out to tuck some of the hair slipping out of her ponytail behind her ear. It hurt him to no end when she flinched slightly at his movement, he could feel her tensing up when his fingers made contact with her temple. As he squinted his eyes, he could make out the uneven patch of concealer and powder on the area close to her hairline, a tiny hue of reddish purple peeking slightly through. She relaxed when he finally retreated his hand.

"Just try to be careful and take care of yourself. I don't like seeing you get hurt."

She probably didn't know, or maybe she did, he was painfully obvious when it came to her, that he meant what he said in more ways than one.

"You too....see you San."

Once more, he held himself back from blurting out everything that was kept in his chest, instead opting for giving her a farewell and going out to the parking lot to get inside his red 1989 Ford f150 and drive over to his friend's house, the bunch of them waiting for him to complete his shift and come over to their place.

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"Aish seriously San, just forget about her. Plenty of fish in the sea." One of the pair of giants told him as he chugged back the remnants in his bottle.

"And you have a lot of fish waiting for you to reel in your rod so they can bite right in." His friend sitting next to him wiggled his eyebrows at him.

"Stop you guys." San pushed the blonde away.

"Mingi and Wooyoung are right though San. You have girls and guys lined up all willing to drop their pants for you at anytime. Lucky bastard." Yunho, the other half of the giant squad chuckled lowly.

"I don't want any of them though... you guys don't understand." San looked down at the floor.

The other blonde haired male in the room, Yeosang, rolled his eyes at him, unable to understand his infatuation for the girl.

"You've been pining for her since high school. When are you going to let her go? She chose and still chooses to this day Lee Taeyong."

Slamming his fist on the table, San angrily looked at him.

"Don't fucking mention that asshole's name near me!"

Everyone grew quiet, the members who were bordering on getting tipsy suddenly sobering completely up as if there was absolutely no drop of alcohol in their system. San was usually a very friendly and sweet person, but he was also sensitive and emotional, and lately he'd manifest it through anger and rage, and it was truly terrifying to them. But they knew he had reasons for lashing out like that. They knew his hatred for Taeyong, not just for being able to score the girl he'd been in love with for ages, San would have stayed content and wholeheartedly happy had she'd been loved and cared for like she deserved to be. But instead, he had to watch as she was constantly belittled and sometimes shoved hardly into the ground, landing her scraped knees or bruised palms. He could only imagine what went on behind closed doors.

"San......you have to accept reality, all of us do whether we like it or not. Her friends aren't blind to what's happening to her. Teacher's at university aren't either, they've all tried approaching her about it.....she won't listen to anyone." Yunho decided to finally say what everyone was thinking.

"She doesn't deserve it! It's toxic and sick!" He cried out in desperation.

"But ultimately it's her choice........ you can't force her to get help or leave if she doesn't want to. She's been with him for years."

Unwilling to hear anymore, San quickly picked up his leather jacket and stormed out the house. He drove the streets like a mad man, his fist hitting the steering wheel every time he stopped at a red light. He would have continued his angry drive back to his place had he not spotted an all too familiar denim jacket walking on the road. Slowing down the truck, he pulled closer to the right side and stopped right in front of the figure trembling in the cold night air.

"Y/N?" He rolled down his window so she wouldn't be startled by some stranger suddenly pulling up next to her.

"Oh! Hey San!" She said through chattering teeth.

"You're walking home all alone?" He could not believe this.

"Uh....yeah! My boyfriend got caught up at work....didn't want to bother him so I'm walking home...it's not that far!" She tried to sound reassuring, but he could see right through her.

"You want a ride?" He offered.

She hesitated for a moment, wondering if it'd be a good idea or not.

"Hey it's ok. I'm not going to kidnap you or anything. I'll just drive you straight home. We don't even have to talk if you don't want. Just you, me and some old jams playing on the radio all right?"

Unable to resist that dimple smile that always made her feel fuzzy inside, she allowed him to open the door for her from the inside. After giving him her address, she found he stayed true to his word and just drove in silence the entire time. She was kinda thankful for it. She was tired after her shift, exhausted from walking and from how late it was, and more than anything, she felt like she was going to spill tears any minute if she even got out a single word. She felt worn out, her head resting on the window, eyes opening and closing as tiredness began to overtake her. She only awoke when she felt a light hand caress her cheek. In other circumstances, she would have immediately swatted the hand away and pushed the face near her own as far away as possible. But she didn't do that, she felt strangely safe and protected by the male next to her as he brushed some hair off her face.

"We're here. Safe and sound just like I promised."

Safe.........

For some reason she felt anything but safe as she looked at the house in front of her.

"Thanks San." She smiled weakly at him as she began taking off her seat belt.

"Call me if you ever need a ride. I mean it. I don't want you catching a cold...or-or worse..." He admitted.

"Thank you, really. Good night. I'll see you tomorrow."

She took slow steps to the front door, San didn't drive away until he confirmed she was inside. With a heavy heart, he drove away back to his place, unaware that the girl he dropped off was watching through the peephole his departure, still staying there moments after he had disappeared from sight. She sighed despondently as she dropped her bag onto the floor, slumping her body onto the couch as it was useless to try to go sleep in the bedroom given the pornographic moans and thumping noises coming from inside it. Wouldn't be the first or last time she came home to such sounds. She simply curled up into a fetus position, falling asleep in the usual way:

Tears falling out of the corners of her eyes.

ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.

"What do you mean she's not coming?"

San nervously gulped as his boss told him Y/N's boyfriend called to say she had a little accident and couldn't go in that day. He knew it was bullshit and he was going to find out what really happened. After going to classes the next day, he actively searched around campus for any signs of her or Taeyong. After asking around, a girl motioned to the football field, saying that's where they'd often go to at times. San squinted his eyes as he looked all over for them, finally spotting them near the bleachers. His fist tightened as he watched Taeyong once again put his filthy hands on Y/N, shoving her to the ground, making her land face first, her palms outstretched and scraping against the grass under her. He watched as Taeyong simply walked away, leaving her there, not caring about if she was seriously injured or not. Unable to hide any longer, San sauntered over to her, his arms picking her up from the ground.

"Y/N it's me!"

He didn't mean to shout at her, but having her scream and cover her head protectively gave him no other option. He nearly began crying himself when she lifted her head, her eyes full of fear and panic.

"Oh! It's you San! Sorry for that!"

As she stood up, she began dusting the dirt off, ignoring the throbbing pain in her ankle. Faking a smile, she giggled nervously.

"Clumsy me again, tripping on some-"

"Y/N stop lying to yourself. I saw everything."

Her face darkened at his words, her eyes becoming glued to the floor as she avoided his gaze like she did the others. She hated seeing their pitiful stares and shameful eyes, she believed San probably had the same look as well. She couldn't be more wrong as his eyes just looked at her in despair and agony.

"Why? Why do you put up with it? Why do you stay with him? Why do you torture yourself like this?.....

Why do you love him?"

He asked that last question more to himself than her. Y/N crossed her right arm over her chest, her hand clutching her left bicep as she gently massaged the muscle there. San knew it was the same bruised arm he had seen a few days ago, it was probably even more battered up than the last time he saw it.

"I can't......I don't know....."

Seeing her struggling to form words, San opted for gently hovering his hands around her, maneuvering and ushering her to sit on the bleachers without ever laying a single finger on her. Opening his backpack, he took out the mini first aid kit his older friend, Seonghwa, had given him, actually deciding to put it to use for once.

"I'm going to clean these scrapes ok?"

He looked at her and waited til she gave him permission to touch her. She did not flinch away at all when he began wiping off the dirt and blood accumulated on her knee or hands, only momentarily when he applied the disinfectant spray on her wounds.

"Sorry." He apologized.

"It's fine.......I'm used to hurting...." She finally admitted.

He wanted to speak up again, but found it hard to find the right words. He focused on applying ointment on her wounds and bandaging them up nicely.

"How long has he pushed you around?" He needed to know.

"Started 3 months after we became official.....but even before that, he'd often tease me and what not........ it doesn't hurt ....." She lied once more.

"The Y/N I knew never lied even to save her life. Sad how someone like him managed to change that." He finished wrapping the gauze around her knee.

"I haven't changed at-"

"Yes you have." He interrupted once again.

"The Y/N from then was a cheerful, happy ray of sunshine known for her bubbly personality and kindness to others. She loved going out with friends and hated staying indoors for too long. She was always honest and ready to help anyone in need, especially cute abandoned animals, she was a real softie for them."

She chuckled softly at his words, not denying any of it.

"I still am soft for them." She corrected him.

"But you're no longer happy. You're sad, somber and being in pain all because of an asshole who doesn't deserve you.......he doesn't deserve your love."

Although she heard him and wanted to believe his words, her mind blocked out such reasoning.

"But he does love me.......he swears it....every time it happens, he apologizes and promises-"

"It's all lies Y/N! He doesn't love you! If he loved you he wouldn't hurt you physically and emotionally. He wouldn't be the reason why you're only a shell of the person you used to be. He doesn't love you and he'll never love you..."

She let his words sink, trying to digest what he was saying.

"I know because I've loved you for so long and I'd never even think about putting you through half of what he has."

She whipped her head up at his words, seeing the earnest and emotion in his eyes as he finally confessed what was in his heart.

"San......" She was left speechless.

He teared up, scoffing at himself as a dry smile formed on his face.

"You have no idea how much it hurts seeing you be in pain and not able to do anything about it. Having you flinch at my touch when all I want is to comfort and hold you."

Without thinking, he cupped her cheeks, thumbs wiping away the tears that began falling down her eyes.

"You can't keep doing this to yourself Y/N. You can't spend the rest of your life living in fear and chained to someone who just wants to make you suffer. You can't allow someone to take away your joy and peace of mind. You shouldn't be afraid to be free and enjoy life. You deserve to be happy and loved."

He used his last bit of self control he had and stopped himself when he leaned his face too close to hers, his nose brushing against hers, expecting her to shiver away from his touch, but instead she seemed to wait for his next move. Knowing he'd never forgive himself for it, he pulled back, leaving her disappointed and himself in agony.

"Please take care..."

Taking off his leather jacket, he placed it on her back, fanning out the sleeves so it'd cover her shoulders. Then he turned around and began walking away from her, shoulders slumped down and heart aching to go back and just take her away for good. But he resolved himself not to. Not until she specifically asked him to.

When Y/N finally got back to her place, Taeyong wasn't there. He was probably spending the night at one of his side chick's place, no doubt getting buzzed and high out of his mind. Her soft bed no longer comforted her, so instead she slid down and sat on the floor, hugging her knees and occasionally running a finger through the fabric of San's jacket. His scent was still on it and every time she inhaled it, it had a soothing and calming effect on her mind and heart that soon helped her tense body relax until she felt sleepy. It took a lot of effort, but she climbed into her bed, not bothering to cover herself with the blanket or change into more comfortable and less confining clothes.

San's jacket was the only comforting thing at that moment......

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Nudging him with his elbow, Yeosang whispered to the male next to him the presence of the girl that was slowly approaching them. Always reacting to anything related to her, San turned his head and smiled softly when he saw Y/N walking up to him.

"Hey." He greeted her.

"Hi.....I came to return this. Thanks for letting me borrow it." She held out his leather jacket, neatly folded and visible clean.

"Oh Y/N, you really didn't need to go that far." San became shy at her gesture, and worried about if she washed it cause he had forgotten to and it disgusted her.

"Don't say that. It's the least I can do for all you've done..."

She looked up at his eyes as she said that, her heart fluttering when he rested his hand on top of hers when he tried to take back his treasured article of clothing, letting it stay there for a moment, his fingers giving her hand a light squeeze. His friend behind him looked back and forth between the both of them, confused by what was going on and internally gagging at their mushy scene.

"I wanted to say thank-"

"Y/N!"

The voice calling out for her roared in her ears, sending her into a panic mode as she pulled away immediately from his physical contact. San noticed the way her body tensed up and her eyes became afraid. His own eyes narrowed at the icy blue haired man strutting up to them, a chilling smile on his manga like visuals.

"Hey baby, I've been looking all over for you. What were you doing?" He asked in a concerning tone, face bearing down on hers rather uncomfortably.

"I- I was j-just giving San back this.." She stammered as she gestured to the jacket in her hand.

Letting out a barely audible scoff, Taeyong gripped the jacket, prying it off her delicate fingers before tossing it back to San.

"Thanks bud."

San glared at him, resisting the urge to throw a punch to his face. Seeing him unresponsive, Taeyong just shrugged and suspiciously wrapped an arm around Y/N.

"Come on babe. Let's go back home."

His fingers dug into her skin, applying very painful pressure to her bruise, an occasional whimper coming out of her mouth as they walked across the football field. San's jaw tightened as he watched Taeyong lean in and whispered something in her ear, no doubt some degrading words judging by the way she cowered beneath him.

"San just let it go." Yeosang's voice said.

"I can't Yeosang. Every time I see him even breathe near her.......I feel like combusting." He grunted in frustration as his friend tried to calm him down.

"Taeyong, please stop. It really hurts." Y/N cried out, her fingers prying his hand off her aching arm.

"Shut up you little bitch. How dare you go talk to that punk? Making me look bad and having me talk to that low life." He cringed in disgust.

"I was only thanking him for lending me-"

"So what? Were you going to lend yourself to him too? Is that what you were going over to him for?"

She instantly shook her head.

"What?! No!"

"Yeah right. I bet you already whored yourself out to him...didn't you?!"

Not caring that there was still people nearby, Taeyong harshly yanked her by her hair before tossing her onto the ground, catching the attention of everyone around, including San and Yeosang.

"Fucking whore." He spat at her.

"Don't." Yeosang held his hand out when he saw San taking a step forward.

"But I can't-"

Yeosang kept an arm around him to keep him in place.

"Don't get involved. You'll only make things worse."

San looked back at the scene, his heart breaking seeing Y/N once again on the floor, trembling like a frightened kitten who had no protection. When she looked up, he saw tears already brimming down her face.

"Get up. We're going home." Taeyong sternly commanded, turning to walk away as usual.

"No."

He stopped dead in his tracks at her refusal.

"Excuse me?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

Not knowing how or where she got the strength from, Y/N got up and faced him with determination.

"I've finally had enough."

Both San and Yeosang were shocked at hearing her words, one of them more incredulous than anything and the other proud of her for finally standing up for herself. Taeyong too was put out of sorts seeing her be so bold.

"Haha, real funny baby. Now let's go home." He walked closer to her, reaching out to yank her arm, but she slapped it away.

"No! I told you! I've had it! It's over!" She declared.

Sensing he was really losing his power and control over her, Taeyong lunged at her, fist held up in the air.

"Listen here you-"

Y/N covered her face, stepping back when he came close to her. She opened her eyes and uncovered herself when she felt someone suddenly step in front of her, their hand blocking Taeyong's fist from even approaching her.

"Stay out of this Choi." Taeyong grunted.

"She told you it's over Taeyong."

San easily pushed him away single handedly, making him stumble backwards.

"Now leave and never bother her again."

Not giving up yet, Taeyong looked back at Y/N menacingly.

"And do tell me Y/N? If it's over, where are you going to live now?" He taunted her.

Realizing he was right, she almost felt defeated until San spoke up again.

"She's going to live with me." He firmly answered.

"I fucking knew it. You were being a whore with him."

Unable to hold himself back anymore, San swung hard, fist colliding with Taeyong's face, sending him falling down against the floor. Y/N covered her mouth as she gasped sharply when San picked Taeyong back up from his collar, shaking him fiercely.

"Call her that one more time! I dare you to!" He warned him as he got ready to take another swing.

"San stop!" He felt Yeosang intervene once again, holding his elbow with his hands.

"Yeosang! Just let me-"

"Stop for Y/N's sake, she's already seen and lived enough violence, I really don't think she needs to see any more." Yeosang tilted his head to the Y/N who had already began backing as far away as possible.

Realizing his friend was right, San begrudgingly let go of his most hated rival.

"Try to come near her again and I will end you."

With those final words, he went over to where Y/N was, his face softening up when he looked at her. He held out his hand to her and waited for her response. He felt happy when she finally reached out and allowed him to guide her out to the parking lot, and thankful that he decided to park somewhere where there weren't a lot of people.

"You all right?" He finally spoke up when they were finally inside his truck

"Uh...yeah...actually...I'm fine.... can you believe I actually did it?"

Although she sounded enthusiastic, he heard the crack in her voice and her nervous laughter wasn't helping her case. Instead of turning the car on, he shifted to his right to look at her. He watched as the smile left her face, her fidgeting hands suddenly shake uncontrollably and her laughter suddenly turned to her hyperventilating. Knowing what was happening, San immediately pulled her into an embrace for the very first time in his life, holding her tightly, hands running through her hair as she began breaking down, sobbing violently, finally releasing all the pent up pain and suffering she had been bottling up for years.

San himself wanted to cry, but he didn't for her sake. He just let her cry her eyes out. It took a little over 10 minutes, but finally she started to calm down.

"Thank you....for everything."

Kissing her forehead, he poked her nose and smiled at her.

"Don't mention it. Let's get you somewhere warm now."

He made sure to play soothing music for her on the ride to his house. He noticed how once again she was drifting off to sleep and simply allowed her rest, knowing she was probably exhausted not only from crying so much but also from standing up to her abusive ex boyfriend moments ago. That certainly took a lot of energy and strength from her part and he was proud of her.

It was already dark when they got home, the brooding and cloudy day shortening the daylight and making it night at such an early hour. San gently picked up Y/N and got her out of the car, carrying her sleeping figure bridal style inside his house. It was small, but at least it was cozy and would be safe for her. Peeling back the covers from his bed, he carefully laid her down on it before tucking her in. When he made sure she'd be comfortable, he turned to leave the room, deciding it'd be better for him to sleep on the couch, not wanting to overstep any boundaries or have her freak out. He barely got to the door when he heard a tiny and hushed whisper of his name.

"San?"

He immediately looked over to see what she needed.

"Could.....could you please sleep by my side?.... I'd feel more safe that way..."

She didn't want to admit it right then, but it had been so long since she'd slept in someone's arms and she really craved physical affection from him. Happy to oblige, San went over and got into bed with her.

"Are you going to be ok if I wrap my arm around you?" He asked for permission first.

"Please just hold me." She begged as she cuddled up next to him, her face burying inside his chest.

He wasted no time in throwing his arm around her, his delicate fingers drawing soothing circles on her arm.

"Don't be afraid. You're safe now and you're going to be all right. I'm here and I'll protect you."

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More than a year passed. It was a long and arduous process. At first Y/N didn't want to go through it, but San kept insisting she get therapy. After promising to accompany her and staying by her, she finally gave up and started seeing a psychologist. It wasn't easy, for neither of them. It was painful for her to finally speak up about all the abuse she endured for years and it was equally torturous for San to hear the rest of the untold story. It truly sickened him that one day he nearly busted Taeyong's face when he met him outside the school, but was ultimately held back once more by one of his friends. Besides his main priority was helping Y/N, helping her to properly function again and to bring a little more joy into her life, even going out to adopt a cat for her, naming her Byeol. She became their cute little baby, even if she was a total, well, cat at times and didn't want to cuddle.

"That's ok. I know a cat willing to cuddle me." Y/N chuckled.

San looked around confused.

"Wait! You got another cat? Where is- Oh! You meant me." He blushed hard when she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her body next to his as she snuggled next to him on the couch.

San did not hope for and did not expect Y/N to ever return his feelings, he was satisfied with her just being out of that horrible situation and being able to help her. Never did he dream she'd ever accept to be his and especially not ever cross his mind that he'd ever be able to actually claim her as his own.

But here she was, looking so beautiful underneath his body, wearing nothing but his leather jacket as he rolled his hips against hers. His fingers were laced with hers as his lips pulled apart from hers so he could look at her.

"Fuck...you're so damn pretty."

He leaned back in to place open mouth kisses on her jaw that traveled down to her neck. Although he nibbled occasionally, he made sure not to leave any marks on her soft and delicate skin.

"San...." She breathed out heavily, her hands breaking from his grasp to run through his black hair, paying close attention to the faded green streaks near his bangs.

"Oh god- please repeat that a little more." He groaned, loving the way she called out his name with such lust.

One of his hands traveled down her sides to cup one of her thighs, lifting her leg so he could hit deeper inside her. Feeling him at a whole new angle had Y/N gripping his muscly arms, her panting now becoming more erratic as she began clenching around him.

"San-" She called out again.

He chuckled slightly, hips snapping up to thrust just a little harder in her.

"Go ahead beautiful. Cum all over me, I want to feel you."

Hearing his low and suddenly husky voice urging her on, she let out a tiny whimper, her legs wrapping around his waist, using it as leverage to ride out her high. Her nails raked themselves into his back, her body pressed as close as it could be against his.

"Oh my god!" He gasped out as he twitched inside of her, his cum coating her walls, leaving her feeling full and complete.

He collapsed on top of her, his labored breathing occasionally resulting in a little choke as he tried to compose himself. When he finally came to, he brushed his lips against her temple.

"I love you so much."

She smiled at him as he adjusted the jacket that enveloped her, a real genuine smile.

"I love you too Sannie."

Giving her a tiny peck, he began sliding the jacket off.

"Let's get you out of this. It's probably too hot to be wearing it anymore."

She huffed and pouted.

"Baby no. I love wearing it. It feels like it's hugging me." She grabbed it and wrapped it around her more tightly.

"You know what else wants to hug you? My arms. So take off the jacket and let me snuggle you love."

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[hogwartstoalexandria]

Surviving

1333w | Mature | Hotchgan: Aaron Hotchner/Derek Morgan

Additional Tags:

Past Aaron Hotchner/Haley Hotchner, Post-Episode: s05e09 100, Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Infidelity, Trauma, Referenced Canon-Typical Violence, Angst

Summary:

They both grieve Haley's death; Aaron's wife, his first love, and the woman Derek never stopped comparing himself to in the wake of their divorce. In both good and bad, he was everything she wasn't and yet a lot of the same, all bringing him to Aaron and keeping him there.

Read on AO3 or under the read more!

It's not his bed he lies in, not his sheets he fists his hands around. It's not his bedroom, not his home. But where is home anymore? Where is safe? Derek is quiet, and Aaron thinks he could feel safe under him like this, or he could have, if it didn't unjustly bring back memories of a knife slicing him up, or imaginings of bullets tearing through her as she went down, fighting yet broken already, doomed. 

"Talk to me." Quiet, still, not distressed, not angry, but all wrong nonetheless. All the wrong notes, the wrong words, the wrong voice. "Aaron…" 

It's fingers tracing his jaw, catching his tears, that make Aaron blink back more of the same, that make him shake under the man he loves, observed still, by the memory of a woman long gone. He looks into Derek's eyes as shivers run through him, his blood a slow thrum of stupor as he clings to his arms and sits up to bury his face in his shoulder. He wants to curl up and hide, from all of it, from both of them—the only two people he's ever given his heart to—and from himself. He'd rather take Foyet again than face whatever this is, the feeling deep in his gut that twists him up and makes bile rise up in his throat every time he lets himself be soothed by Derek's touch. He'd rather kill the reaper a thousand times, than feel like this forevermore—helpless and guilty, betrayed and betraying, lost and loved. 

"I can't—" he chokes, on the words and on the admission they release. He can't seem to stop shaking, sweaty and weak, so weak in Derek's arms, on Derek's lap. He's wrapped in all that strength, in Derek's silence that is care and that is his safety, if only he could let it sink in deeper than he lets his shame. 

"It's okay," Derek whispers, warm lips burning at Aaron's chilled temple. "It's not about sex, baby. It's not about that at all." 

He knows. They both do. But somehow this is when it gets worse and worse, paralyzing. Even here, in Derek's house, in Derek's bed rather than his apartment and the bed he once shared with her. 

"We can call Jack if you want." Derek's hand brands the back of his head and Aaron pushes back into it, needs to feel it more, always more. He's massaging his skull in circles, the same circles his other hand draws on Aaron's bare hip. The touch travels to his neck, and to his shoulder blades, and back. There's no urgency but the one Aaron's still panting with. There's no pressure, but the one that encases his lungs, squeezing what little life he can get into them right back out. The mention of Jack appeases him, but just barely. The picture of his son his mind comes up with is distorted, angelic but blurry. He tries to be there for him, didn't want to leave him with Jessica tonight, but Derek was right—he can't go on like this—Jack needs him to heal too. 

"I don't know what to do," he whispers back, not ignoring Derek's question, but responding with one of his own. It permeates everything he says and does, how he walks and talks and lives, goes on living when she died because of him, when Haley gave her life trying to protect their son from his choices, from his demons. Doubt and guilt walk hand in hand down the sinuous, dim path of his mistakes, the long road he paved with his mistakes and cemented with her blood. It's all he can do not to bolt from Derek's embrace. He doesn't deserve the steadiness with which he's being held, day after day, nor the quiet resolve that means there are no questions there. 

"You don't have to." Derek forces him to straighten up enough to look at him, still sideways in Derek's lap, the both of them naked, bared, vulnerable. Derek giving him that, too, is yet more proof that he doesn't deserve him. 

"I'm hurting you, too." Aaron's eyes are once again wet and prickly, aching with the same heaviness, the same yearning turned into agony. If he lets them unfocus again, he'll see her right there, at the foot of the bed or perched on Derek's windowsill, maybe sitting with them even. He sees her in everything he does with too much clarity—she didn't use to appear like this when she was alive. He didn't feel the hole in his heart when she packed her bags and left him a year ago with quite the same continuous impression of having his heart ripped out, his flesh torn and his mind ablaze. 

"You gotta stop saying that. You gotta… I'm not hurt by you, I'm hurting with you." Derek's voice has a new edge to it, a despair Aaron knows too well, one he hates to hear in Derek's mouth. He frowns so he won't sob and reaches for him, hesitant, fear and fever both pulling him forward anyway, and Derek meets him there. Kissing Derek Morgan was Aaron's favorite thing long before Haley died, and even now that shock and blood taint everything else, Aaron can always breathe in this man's kiss. He can always pierce through the loss that keeps him bound lower than the ground to share this with him. He doesn't think it fair, that Derek has to carry his grief as well, but nothing is fair. Nothing is fair in the face of madness and murder. Little is fair in love either. He's unbalanced, thrown off more than his game—his identity remains, through Jack and through Jessica, through Derek snapping him out of this fog now and then, through the team's respect that's still there somehow—but this is still easy. He follows Derek's lead in this the same way he would follow his lead anywhere, in anything. He sobs through it, and his wreckage furthers when he feels more wetness under his fingers. He holds Derek's face between his palms and his thumbs brush his cheekbones, spread the evidence around, massage it into Derek's skin. I'm hurting with you. 

"She's dead." Aaron continues crying. He can't stop, when it starts it goes on until he passes out, every time. He wants it to stop almost as much as he thinks he should feel like this for the rest of time. Should go on living, never forgetting what he did, or rather did not do. "I killed her." 

Derek's response first comes in the way he hauls Aaron closer and then lays him back down. His body is like a weighted blanket cutting short Aaron's mindless protests, confusion and exhaustion thrusting his hands against Derek's chest, but he can't push him off. His knuckles still hurt, the bones and joints in his hands still bruised with the memory of Foyet's jaw, his ribs screaming with it when he forgets his painkillers. They don't help—they make it too easy to hear his swirling thoughts. He sags under his partner, and tries to keep Haley's ghost away to hear what Derek is whispering in his ear. It doesn't work, but he knows still, the substance of what Derek's lips murmur of reassurances and promises, of absolutions and prayers. 

It's different each time he sees her. Sometimes she's smiling at him. Sometimes she's 16 all over again, sometimes she's older than she ever got to be. Sometimes she looks like she would scream at him if she still had a voice. Sometimes she reaches for him and he can feel a touch that isn't there. Derek's touch is, Derek's love, and Aaron's own love is divided, pouring into two people's hearts, one present, one past. 

He gasps between a kiss and an exhale, "I love you", and they both smile at him with the same sadness in their eyes, the same immeasurable torment and undying compassion. 

[fluxofthemouth]

 the devil  :  is your muse addicted to any substances ? is there anything that could possibly make them quit?

&&

judgement : is your muse forgiving of themselves ? how about of others who wrong them ?

the devil

From canon, Piter is implied to be addicted to 'sapho juice,' a drug that boosts quick thinking by a lot. It's a highly addictive substance that will permanently stain your mouth red over time, & that's an ordinary tool of the trade for a Mentat. Seems pretty dystopian to me, honestly?? That something so invasive and personal is a normal requirement of showing up to work? I'm reading between the lines of Dune! I'm reading that neurodivergence is like a prized trait for a servant class that supplies intellectual workhorses for the ultra-rich! Like, the meritocracy aspirations of today's world are maybe just not there (bc feudalism) & if you're super smart or something it's like Oh! A Resource! Don't get me wrong, the Atreides main character family of nobles & their inner circle is pretty awesomely brain-weird too (they've got movie quote guy, compulsively moral guy, teenager who's so dang observant, woman who mysteriously fails repeatedly to get on peoples' good side even tho she means well, etc), so it's not like there are bold lines dividing classes by neurotype or anything. But dang, I just read a lot of thanklessnes into the Mentat role. (I'm imagining the more bitter folks have the inside joke that 'Mentat' stands for Managing Eminent Neurotypicals' Tasks, Albeit Thanklessly)

Piter is also heavily addicted to 'spice,' the setting's famous miracle drug that extends lifespans, lets you see into the future a little, and makes safe space travel possible. Rather than being an expectation, this is a very intentional choice, and a sign of his commitment to hmmm greed and hedonism. Like, this little man saw moderation and ran straight past it with his hands reaching out.

Lastly, in one of the scenes in the book where Piter shows up, he's being annoying & the Baron sarcastically asks him something along the lines of, "Are you high?" and mentions a third, completely unrelated drug. So I interpret that Piter is just really open to experimenting with drugs & that there are a few he's quite heavily addicted to. He already lives in a world that wants him to be addicted to drugs because it makes him useful, so I wonder if the rest is like, he might as well act like it was his idea. He's very evil & I don't write that as good (he is some sort of meow meow, i am microwaving him, etc etc), but like oh shit there's some righteous rage there.

judgement

Piter is hard on himself for making big mistakes, especially when it comes to not predicting or calculating things accurately. Part of it is the huge pressure to be useful, and the fact that everything from his basic safety to his absurd wealth is conditional on not only being useful but being extraordinary. Another part of it's pride; as much as he doesn't like the thought of being used, he truly takes pride in doing good work. Like, I bet he can play an instrument, I hc that he owns a racehorse, he has other shit going on that he might conceivably be proud of. But getting Results for his House is like the one singular situation where it's not just him patting himself on the back, he's really made an Achievement as defined by culture.

In many contexts though, he's got everything he needs to see failures as a natural part of the road to success. Like, okay! There's a problem or a goal & i am going to do a while loop about it.

I feel like Piter isn't one to get revenge against every specific person who wrongs him. In the book, the Baron laughs at him and tells him about a bet he made with someone else about what Piter would do in a situation. So he's not scaring people away from gossiping about him. In another part in the book, he says he'd really get a kick out of seeing the Baron's castle sacked and destroyed. I think his big grudge is against the Empire and the nobility, for all of the scary and personal ways he was shaped to be a tool for their use; and he'll never forgive that. I think he might be so obsessed with the specific wound and anger that minor shit still hurts but seems trivial.

[babygirlkiki1016]

Masterlist

Chapter 4: Between Two Races

Chapter 5: The Ugly Truth

The moon was almost out as the sun slowly lowered itself behind the mountains. I sighed, might as well enjoy it, this might be the only time I'll ever get to see it like this. With no enemies chasing us, just me and myself, and the maids who were trying to get me to wear a dress.

"What about this one milady? It's certainly beautiful, any man would love to see you in this kind of dress." It was a long black gown, not as fluffy as the others they had shown me. It was slim, and just my size, I ran my hand over the cloth feeling the soft texture.

"I'll try this one." Trying on the dress was the best decision, it fits me in all the right places. It hung off my shoulders slightly, showing my family's crest. My eyes traveled to the v-line that showed my breast. Well, it complimented my figure, even though I don't like showing my body that much, it made me feel beautiful. "Thank you, you are dismissed." I bowed and left my chambers, I could hear them giggling as I walked away. I wonder what they were so excited about, maybe they're eager to see the dwarves?

"Y/n! It's wonderful for you to join us for dinner." Elrond greeted as he walked up the steps with Gandalf. "You look extravagant."

"Thank you, as do you." He wasn't the only one who thought so, cause every dwarf at the table stopped and stared. Their jaws dropping in surprise, and each of them blushed as I smiled. The moment I sat down at the dining table, Thorin couldn't keep his eyes off of me. His gaze traveled to my chest, I couldn't tell if he was looking at my markings or my breast. "Thorin, eyes up here." He snaps out of his trance, but he did not smile or grin, he scowled at me.

"Don't you think that's a little too much skin your showing?" He growled I didn't think it would be a problem, but now I was doubting myself.

"Even if it is, what does it matter?"

"It matters cause you look like a whore." He took a sip of his wine, Elrond could sense my discomfort. I looked down in shame, all I wanted was to feel pretty, and here I thought this man could change. No, I wouldn't let him get to me, he's just another dwarf his words shouldn't matter to me. I held my head high, making his eyes widen at my new profound courage.

"A whore would be wearing much fewer clothes than I, all that matters is that I feel beautiful the way I am. And if you don't like it, then you can shove it you ignorant pig." The other two people at our table let out a small chuckle, for the look on Thorin's face was unexpected. He was speechless now but turned his focus to Elrond who examined one of the swords that he had taken from the trolls’ cave.

"This is Orcrist, the Goblin-cleaver. A famous blade, forged by the High Elves of the West. My kin." He hands it back to Thorin with a small nod. "May it serve you well." Elrond grabs Gandalf's sword. "And this is Glamdring. The Foe-hammer, sword of the King of Gondolin. These swords were made for the Goblin wars of the First. I believe you will find it to be useful."

"What about this?" I hand him the blue stone I had found in the troll's hoard, he tilted his head to the side and put down Gandalf's weapon.

"It has your family's crest, I highly doubt you need me to tell you what it means."

"I know what the translation is, but why would it say to go back to the Kingdom of Larthas? There's nothing there but corpses and vines that have grown over time." He takes it from me and analyzes the markings, his brows furrowed as he racked his brain for what it could mean.

"I do not know, perhaps there is a secret there that remains hidden. Something only you can find out, you are the Queen after all. Only the royal blood can open the gates of Larithian."

"The gates of Larithian?" Thorin glanced between the two of us in confusion.

"The gates of Larithian is where our treasure remains, anything important goes in there. Yet it hasn't been open for so long." Were there more of my people out there? Maybe they made this gem, so one day when someone found it they would bring it to me. Why? What could be so important?

"How did you come by these?" Elrond still stared at the stone in his hand, I had a feeling he knew something about the stone. He just wasn't telling me what it was, he tried to look at it like he'd never seen it before but was failing.

"We found them in a troll hoard on the Great East Road, shortly before we were ambushed by orcs," Gandalf explained, which caught his attention.

"And what were you doing on the Great East road?"

~♪♠♪~

"Our business is no concern of Elves. It's already bad enough that she knows of our journey." Thorin glared at me, that fire in his eyes returning once more. I could feel a few looks of pity thrown my way, but I could care less. I was a Queen, no matter how much he hurts me I have to stay strong for my people.

"For goodness sake. Thorin, show him the map!" Gandalf ordered, his grip tightening on his staff.

"It is the legacy of my people. It’s mine to protect! As are its secrets."

"Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves. Your pride will be your downfall. You stand here in the presence of one of the few in Middle-earth who can read that map. Show it to Lord Elrond!" Thorin grimaced at the thought, but he knew that the old wizard was right. Though he looked at me with a hopeful look, I returned it with a glimpse of confusion.

"Can you read the map?" His request surprised me, he would rather have me, a digonisk read the map than an elf? "You do know everything about dwarves out there do you not?" Thorin takes out the map and hands it to me reluctantly. I open it, and read what I already knew, it was mostly about the quest. Elrond took this as a signal to leave, for he knew the dwarves wouldn't want him to listen in on their secrets. So now all that remained was me, Gandalf, Thorin, Bilbo, and Balin.

"What am I looking for?"

"It’s mainly academic. As you know, this sort of artifact sometimes contains hidden text." Gandalf explains, walking with me to the pedestal. "You still read ancient dwarvish, do you not?"

"Of course, it was one of the first languages that I learned during my lessons." I studied the symbols and spoke aloud. "‘Cirth ithil’."

"Moon runes, of course. An easy thing to miss."

"Moon runes can only be read by the light of the moon of the same shape and season as the day on which they were written. Luckily for you, I do not need the same moon as I can create my own." I lifted my hand over the map as the two dwarves watched, with my magic I created a crescent moon making the paper glow with blue letters. "‘Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the keyhole.’"

"Durin’s Day?" Bilbo asked curiously.

"It is the start of the dwarves' new year, when the last moon of Autumn and the first sun of Winter appear in the sky together. We still have time to make it to the mountain, as long as we move swiftly and take the fastest route. We have to be standing at exactly the right spot, at exactly the right time. Then, and only then, can the door be opened?" That's when everyone realized this journey was about to get a whole lot harder. Not only would we have to move fast, but that means barely any resting time for the rest of the company. After reading the map, I returned to my balcony, watching as the moon shined upon us. Lighting the town, making it glow with white light.

"You've been coming here a lot since you've arrived. Something on your mind?" Elrond joined me by the edge, his hands folded behind his back.

"Just wanting some peace."

"I do not believe that's the right answer." I looked up at him, he gave me a knowing look. Was I supposed to know what he was speaking of? "Thorin Oakenshield, Gandalf told me about how he's been treating you this entire trip. And I can see it in your eyes, it hurts you when he speaks ill of you." He was right, I didn't like it when Thorin was rude, it was as if he wants to break my heart.

"I just don't understand why it hurts so much." He places a hand on my head, caressing my hair gently to calm me.

"Perhaps it hurts because you are in love with him?" In love with him?! That can't be, I haven't thought of him that way at all. Though I did appreciate his time with me, and I liked it when he was around. His voice soothed me, those ruff vocals were music to my ears. "You know I never lie, your hurt because you love him, and when someone that you love is rude to you it pains you more."

"Even if that was true, he wouldn't love me back."

"That's not what I see, earlier when he commented on your dress I could see the jealousy flaring in his eyes." Could Thorin be jealous of what other men thought? Is that why he's always so rude to me? Because he wants me to be safe, or he doesn't want me to do a certain thing? "You should talk to him, tell him how you feel. If you don't it will only get worse for the both of you." I turned away slightly, looking towards the exit of the garden. Maybe telling Thorin wouldn't be so bad, let's hope he feels the same. I thanked Elrond for the advice and made my way around the castle. Eventually, I spotted Thorin with Dwalin speaking on the bridge over the waterfall. My heart was pounding as I made my way over to them, but before I turned the corner I heard something I hadn't expected. I hid behind the pillar, listening to them speaking about someone, uttering my name.

"You laid a hand to her?" Thorin growled.

"It was an accident Thorin, I was just angry-" Dwalin went to go apologize but Thorin interrupted him.

"She is the Queen of the Digonisks, the one who is going to slay Smaug. You will be nice to her, for she is the only one who can kill that beast." My heart fluttered, he was defending me, maybe he did love me.

"So that's it, you want us to be nice? What about the pain you've caused her?! And for what, so she'll do your dirty work?"

"If we hurt her more, she might turn her back on us. We need her to kill Smaug." So that's all he wanted, he just wanted me to kill that dragon. I was nothing but a pawn to him, he didn't love me after all. I was stupid to ever think such an ass like him could ever have feelings like that. Besides, he did say he'd rather be dead than ever be with me.

"And what about after that? What happens after she kills him?" Thorin sighed in disappointment, it seemed like he was upset about something.

"Then she can take her scrolls and leave." I let my guard down again, I shouldn't have listened to Elrond, he didn't lie but he was mistaken. A moment later I heard shuffling, Thorin was coming my way. Quickly I pretended to be just arriving, which startled 'The King Under The Mountain'. "Y/n." He bowed and smiled at me, but I knew it was just an act. "What brings you here?" My heart wrenched, I couldn't do it, I couldn't tell him. I didn't want to face rejection, nor humiliation.

"I was coming to tell you something." My eyes met Dwalins, and that's when he knew I had heard their conversation. "Though it's not important, not anymore." Quickly I rushed away to my chambers as Thorin called after me, and the moment the hard wooden door closed I slid down to the floor with a soft sob coming from my lips.

@fili-is-my-lover @kirenia15 @lunariasilver @depressedchilipepper @tschrist1

[sportacringe]

The Hero

Robbie makes a split second decision, Sportacus drives him to the Emergency Room. They have lots of guilt and awkward flailing  

(click the link above to read on AO3)

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

It had happened in an instant.

One moment Robbie had been slinking off from yet another failed scheme, long gray coat and fedora in hand, the next he'd been running to catch the little tricky girl as she'd plummeted from the branches of the old oak tree beside the soccer field. The idea of letting her fall didn't even cross his mind, instead he leapt to catch her steps before Sportacus, throwing himself between her and the ground on pure instinct and adrenaline.

His heart beat so loudly that he barely heard her scream.

He did hear the bones of his arm snap as they hit the dirt. 

When the back of his head meets the ground Robbie stops feeling anything but agony.

Pain rushed in, pushing away even the sound of his heartbeat as he lay in the dust, teeth clenched and gasping. For a few long seconds there was nothing but white hot agony. Then slowly the world came back to him

The first thing that he heard was Tricky calling his name, her voice shaky. She was definitely still on top of him and after a few more grasping breaths he realized that he was still holding on to her with his right arm, long fingers clenched tight around the fabric of her shirt. Sportacus was next to them, too close, Robbie could feel the hero's breath on his cheek and the steady strength of his hands as he gently pried the crying child away from him. 

Every movement shook his body, putting pressure on the left arm still trapped beneath his body. Robbie couldn’t hold in a soft moan of pain as the weight was taken from his chest.

Sportacus was saying something. Robbie clenched his teeth and put in the effort to listen.

"Trixie give him some space!" The hero's accent was thicker than usual, likely due to stress. Robbie blinked and tried to sit up. "Robbie how hurt are you?"

"I-" Robbie trailed off, gasping as he gingerly pulled his arm out from where it had been trapped beneath his body. He noticed that Sportacus was asking after the extent of his injuries, rather than inquiring as to whether or not he was hurt at all. Better to get to the heart of the issue rather than to ask a question with an obvious answer. After a moment’s hesitation Sportacus moved closer to wrap an arm around Robbie’s back, supporting his torso as the villain drew the injured limb close. He held it to his chest, running his fingers over the painful swelling, Robbie took a deep shaky breath. “I think my arm is broken.”

Robbie had broken bones before, his was not a career that could be considered safe. He’d landed wrong during a heist as a teenager, jammed his fingers in machinery while alone deep in his lair, even once cracked several ribs during a conflict with a superhero. Someone who had used very different methods than Lazytown’s own slightly-above-average-hero. 

It wasn’t that he was certain, Robbie was no medical professional, but the pulsing red hot pain coming from his arm was familiar. Between his arm and the persistent ache in his head Robbie knew that he would not be simply slinking away from this incident. 

Sportacus sucked in a breath, his blue eyes wide. The children muttered amongst themselves, just far away enough to be out of the way. To Robbie they were an unwanted peanut gallery, if he was to be injured and vulnerable he’d rather do so without an audience, but Sportacus was currently too preoccupied to chase them off and frankly Robbie didn’t have the energy to do so himself. Adrenaline pumped through his system, clearing his mind and dulling the pain. As anxiety built up Robbie could feel his jaw begin to twitch in a familiar tic, he pushed the urge aside and abruptly he tried to stand. 

“Whoa!” Sportacus let him go, flipping into a standing position with his hands outstretched, ready to catch Robbie if he wavered. Robbie’s teeth were clenched, brows furrowed as he steadied himself. He kept his arms tucked against his chest, one supporting the other as he hunched forward, steady but pained. 

“Robbie.” Sportacus began again. “I think you need to go to the hospital.” Robbie heard the children gasp but ignored them, growling at Sportacus instead. 

“Thank you Sportaobvious.” He hissed, feeling a bead of sweat drip down his neck. When had he started sweating? The entire afternoon had become something of a blur. The world spun around him for a few moments and he relaxed his good arm just enough to reach up and probe the back of his head. Not sweat, blood. He must have hit a rock when he landed. Robbie glanced at the brats, simultaneously glaring at them and counting their heads, making sure that every child was whole and accounted for before he wobbled off toward his lair. 

“Wait Robbie!” Sportacus jogged after him, leaving the children in Stephanie's capable hands with one last calming gesture. “Where are you going? I just said that you needed to go to a hospital!” The hero seemed upset, for a moment Robbie wondered if it was because Robbie had butted in on his role by saving Tricky, but quickly dismissed the thought. As far as he could tell Sportacus was a genuinely good person who would be happy no matter what as long as all of the brats were healthy and safe. The hero had been too far away from the oak tree for him to have caught the girl in time, he should have been grateful that Robbie was there to cushion her fall.

“I am going to the hospital…” Robbie grumbled, in too much pain to summon his usual dramatic fury. What did the hero expect him to do? Walk there? “My car is this way.”

“Your car?” Sportacus looked perplexed for a moment before his expression went right back to horrified. “Robbie you can’t drive like this!” 

“Watch me!” Still running on adrenaline he marched over to the metal building that sat beneath his billboard and flipped open a mildewed plastic cover to reveal an orange button. Squinting in the sunlight he pressed it with as much petulant aplomb as he could muster. For a moment he wavered again, and Robbie decided to take a moment and lean back into the cool metal of his bunker, giving into his desire to stop moving.

“Robbie I need to check to see if you have a concussion.” He closed his eyes and ignored the hero listening instead to the mechanical whirrs and creaks as the machines in his lair sprung to work.The twin aches in his head and his arm were no longer overwhelming, but the more the pain pressed upon his consciousness the more that he wished that Lazytown had its own medical center so that he could have gotten treatment and been done with it. Robbie didn’t open his eyes again until he heard the rumble of a disguised garage door opening. 

Sportacus was still there, staring at the newly opened space with a stunned expression on his face. 

“What?” Robbie growled, quickly pushing off the wall. Too quickly. Stars popped in the edges of Robbie’s field of vision before color faded from the world and dizziness overtook him. Seeing his knees buckle Sportacus surged forward steadying him as he stumbled and Robbie whimpered as he jostled his arm against the hero’s solid chest. 

“Are you okay?” The expression of the hero’s face would have been hilarious if Robbie had been less dizzy.

“I’m fine.” He growled, pushing himself up again into a standing position “Fine.” The world was spinning around him as the adrenaline of his initial injury ran dry, he wanted to crawl back down into his lair and curl up into his chair, but Robbie knew that putting off treatment wouldn’t do him any good. If anything could come from rushing to the emergency room it would be that he would have access to good painkillers that much sooner. 

Sportacus leaned close, his hands never leaving Robbie’s shoulders. His blue eyes met Robbie’s with concerned intensity as the hero checked the taller man’s pupils. It was disconcerting to be looked at so closely, and Robbie shifted slightly, uncomfortable with the lack of space. His jaw began to clench again. Carefully he stepped away.

“You do probably have a concussion.” Sportacus concluded, confirming what Robbie had already suspected. It didn’t change anything.

Slowly the hero turned and his eyes flitted over Robbie’s battered purple pickup truck that the lair’s machinery had seemingly raised up from the bowels of the earth. It was more subtle than any of the vehicles that Robbie used around the town while still retaining his own signature flair. Lilac and rusted. It also had an automatic transmission, which Robbie considered a plus for highway driving, or any sort of travel that involved traffic. 

Sportacus’s gaze also lingered over the heaps of detritus that littered the floor of the garage before moving to the very back of the garage space, where there were a series of pipes that lead further down. The pipes served as Robbie’s usual entrance to the lair from behind the billboard, but even he wasn’t short sighted enough to build only one access point to his home. Redundancies were important. In a corner there was a staircase with a rusted metal rail that led deep down into the underground structure’s cavernous depths.  

The hero looked back up at Robbie’s truck, his expression turning to a thoughtful frown. Robbie knew that it wasn’t much, but it was a perfectly serviceable vehicle—he even had all of his paperwork in order—it was the only mode of transportation that Robbie owned that was entirely road legal. 

“What’s wrong with my car?” He asked when Sportacus’s expression remained unhappy. The hero seemed perturbed, and he refused to let go of Robbie, his hands still clasped steadingly around the taller man’s shoulders. 

“There’s nothing wrong with your car Robbie.” Sportacus replied, his mustache twitching with agitation. Robbie wondered if any of the brats had ever seen the hero so upset, or if this was an expression that Sportacus reserved specifically for him “But you can’t drive like this! It’s not safe!” 

“Well what do you want me to do? Do you actually expect me to walk to the ER?” He asked finally, thinking again of the warm comfortable chair that sat in the lair nearly directly beneath their feet. The hero shook his head, his expression turning from agitated to determined. 

“I’ll drive you!” Well okay.

—-

As it turned out Sportacus driving him was not okay. 

The hero funnelled the same energy into driving that he did everything else in his life, to terrifying results. As they made their way down the highway Robbie grasped the handle above his door with his good arm, his knuckles turning white from the strain. Around them cars swerved out of the way as the rusted truck sped forward, swerving in and out of lanes to pass slower drivers. Throughout this hazardous stunt driving Sportacus looked completely calm, focused intently on the road ahead of them. 

“Yikes!” Robbie exclaimed, after one particularly near miss. “Jeez, who taught you how to drive!?”

His shoulder had slammed against the door as they swerved and jarred his arm. Robbie felt dizzy again. His jaw clenched but he didn’t really put much effort into suppressing the ensuing groan of pain. Sportacus glanced over in concern and Robbie screwed his eyes up, unwilling to watch as what he was sure would be their death hurtling toward them. 

“Keep your eyes on the road Sportadumb!” Miraculously they didn’t die. Robbie's voice must have been especially harsh because the hero slowed down noticeably. After a few moments of silent driving Sportacus spoke.

“My brother gave me a driving lesson.” The hero seemed as though he expected that statement to give Robbie comfort, but he was mistaken.

“One lesson!?” It explained things in its own horrifying way. Sportacus always behaved like some kind of alien to adult society, more of a big kid or a caricature of a superhero than a typical grownup. Robbie felt anxiety twist in his chest and took a shuddering breath. “Sportacus you need to pull over. Right now.”

“But Robbie!” Sportacus looked at him again, taking his eyes off the road as Robbie’s truck swerved wildly into another lane. It was the last straw.

“Right now Sportacus!” Sportacus pulled over.

Cars rushed past them on the highway, and after a few deep breaths Robbie leaned over and put on the hazard lights with his good hand, pointedly ignoring that he was shaking again. If the hero beside him was staring at him with a crestfallen shamefaced expression Robbie ignored that too, instead focusing on getting his breathing under control. God his head hurt. The pain in his arm and his skull seemed to radiate throughout his entire body, wreaking havoc on his already sensitive emotional state.  

He wondered if the twist of nausea that he felt was a result of the pain or anxiety, and decided that it was likely both just in time to swing open the passenger door and retch out onto the side of the road. 

——

The rest of the trip to the hospital had been subdued. 

After Robbie had threatened to get out of the car and sit on the side of the road until he either perished or was picked up by a well meaning stranger Sportacus had bargained with him. Robbie had eventually agreed to get back into the truck on the conditions that Sportacus keep the hazard lights on, remain in the slow lane, merge as little as possible, and listen to every single suggestion on driving that Robbie gave him.

Despite this the journey had still been harrowing and by the time that they arrived Robbie had been seized by the sort of bone deep exhaustion that made every movement excruciating. Sportacus had taken one look at the taller man slumped in the passenger seat of the truck and gently scooped him into his arms, carrying him across the parking lot and through the automatic doors of the emergency room’s entrance. 

Robbie had let him. 

From then on the hospital trip had been a blur, it had taken an agonizingly long time but in that time almost nothing had happened. Enveloped by the simultaneously upsetting and monotonous sounds of the emergency room Robbie had curled up on the bed, which was shielded from the chaos by only a set of flimsy curtains that sectioned off their space and provided the bare illusion of privacy. Sportacus had stayed beside him, pulling up a chair to the hard emergency room exam bed and holding on to Robbie’s arm like a lifeline. 

In the harsh fluorescent light and hard lines of the hospital Sportacus had looked out of place, like some storybook character who had been dropped into the clinical cynicism of the real world. Robbie supposed he looked the same in his lurid purples and dramatic makeup, but he at least knew how to blend in socially; if only for short periods of time. He’d answered questions and filled out forms even through the haze of pain and exhaustion that clouded his mind. 

After the nurse’s aide had taken his vitals Robbie had laid his head back against the stiff vinyl pillow and closed his eyes. The bright lights hurt his head and the ache from his left arm pulsed through his body. He realized, as he sat, that he had never witnessed Sportacus remain so still. 

Robbie opened his eyes again, squinting at the hero. The look on Sportacus’s face was sad, pensive, as the hero stared at the floor. His hand still rested on Robbie's unhurt arm, his thumb tracing short rhythmic lines across pale skin. Robbie felt the caress pass back and forth in time with his breaths.

“Jeez Sportaflop.” He said, with every bit of his typical social grace “What’s eating you?” 

It seemed somewhat unfair that he was the one laying on a hospital bed with a splitting headache and broken bones, but Sportacus was the one who was upset. Now that they were safely off the highway Robbie was feeling decidedly neutral. He was in pain but not particularly upset; his scheme hadn’t failed any more spectacularly than usual, and now here Sportacus was, sitting as quietly in a chair. At this point in his life Robbie had learned that he had to take his victories where he could get them. 

“I should have been faster.” Over the sounds of the hospital Sportacus’s voice is barely audible. The hero's hand dropped to the bed and then fisted around the thin waxed paper that served as the exam bed’s bottom sheet, creasing the material as his knuckles turned white. Robbie found that he missed the caress despite himself.

On an impulse he reached down and gently wrapped his own long fingered hand around Sportacus’s fist. 

“You couldn’t have been faster,” Robbie said, his tone matter-of-fact and intentionally bland. “You were dealing with the other brats. Tricky shouldn’t have climbed the tree to start with.” The girl couldn’t have known that the branch perched on wouldn’t hold but some caution would have done her good. Maybe from now on she would think twice before leaving solid ground.

Sportacus didn’t look comforted, so Robbie frowned and tried again. He didn’t want to spend the entire evening with a sulking elf. 

“You can’t be everywhere at once.” This statement seemed to penetrate the hero’s head. Sportacus looked up again, meeting Robbie’s eyes as Robbie silently panicked,  grasping for something to say.

"Sure you're a hero." Robbie continued,  not entirely sure where he was going with the conversation. At least,  he reasoned, he'd be able to blame anything he said on his head injury later. "But you're not omnipresent, looking after five horrifyingly active brats all day every day is a huge responsibility. Sometimes things are gonna happen that are out of your control." 

"But it is my responsibility." Sportacus countered, his expression more serious that Robbie had ever seen. "I'm a hero, and no one else was looking after them." 

"So remind the adults to help you watch their kids for a while! It's not like you're getting paid for childcare, or even babysitting the adults of this town for that matter." Robbie's voice was a low rasp, pitched quietly to avoid aggravating his headache.

"I'm not doing it to be paid!" Sportacus insisted. "They needed the help."

"Look, even if you're the big flippy hero and somehow it's your responsibility to rescue grown adults from tripping on the sidewalk and to teach their children to be functional people, you need to understand that not everything bad that happens in Lazytown is your fault for not stopping it." Robbie took a breath "that's just stupid."

Robbie had fought Sportacus for years now, tricking, trapping him, and generally antagonizing him whenever he felt up to it. It had become something of a hobby. In general if someone had asked him if he would relish the opportunity to make Sportacus feel ashamed Robbie would have responded with an immediate and enthusiastic yes. As it turned out, seeing that expression on the hero’s face was far from satisfying. If anything Robbie only felt more frustrated. 

“I know.” Sportacus murmured. “I’m being silly… but it’s hard to watch these things happen. If I’d been the one to catch Trixie everything would have been fine, but I didn’t even realize that she had climbed so high, and I wasn’t there to spot for her.” The hero was still twisting wrinkles into the paper. “If I’d paid more attention than everything would have been okay.” 

Robbie let out a long breath, closing his eyes in a half hearted attempt to dull his headache. Sportacus was stubborn, and once he’d decided on something he was apparently unmovable. He tightened his hand over the hero’s strong fingers.

“You did all you could.”

They sat like that until the doctor arrived.

————-

It was past midnight by the time that Robbie was discharged. He was exhausted, well medicated, and he had blood in his hair. Even though the haze of narcotics Robbie’s head still ached dully, and his arm sat immobile in cast and sling. Sportacus looked washed out and unhappy in the lights of the parking lot. Robbie wondered how the hero would fare in the morning—he was obviously unused to being up so late.

“Are you ready to go home?” Sportacus asked, his face apprehensive. Robbie considered saying no, just to see how the hero would respond, but decided that he’d prefer to expedite the process of getting back to his lair and chair as much as possible. 

“Yeah.” He said instead, “Just go slow this time Sportaspeed. No one will be on the road this time of night so it should be easier.” As long as they didn’t run into any drunks. Or wildlife. Robbie frowned and resolved to stay awake through the entire trip in order to act as a second pair of eyes for the hyperactive hero.

As they turned out of the parking lot and onto the road Robbie relaxed slightly, realizing that the streets were indeed almost empty. Any cars that buzzed about late at night in town thinned out until Sportacus was driving them down the deserted rural highway. The hero kept to the fast lane and Robbie let him. Instead he stared out onto the road, halfheartedly scanning for deer or kamikaze raccoons. The silence inside the cab was peaceful, interrupted only by the rhythmic tapping of Sportacus’s fingers on the wheel as the hero fidgeted.

"How are you going to dress yourself?"

"Excuse me?" Robbie asked, caught between baffled and mortified by the sudden question.

"With the cast." Sportacus clarified,  his fingers tapping more quickly. Robbie could see a blush rising on the hero's cheeks in the rearview mirror. "How are you going to get dressed with your arm in a cast?" 

"I'll manage." Robbie replied, relieved. He thought of his usual method of dressing himself and felt confident that he'd have no trouble with it as long as the dizziness went away. You didn't need two arms to spin around—not that the hero knew that. 

"Are you sure?" Sportacus asked. "I can come down and help you get into your pajamas once we get home." Now Robbie was blushing too, he could feel it. The image was mostly horrifying but also slightly tempting. 

"N-no thank you!" The stuttering was unavoidable, he was nervous and exhausted and in pain. Robbie's good hand clenched and unclenched in his lap and he could tell that he'd pulled his face into a grimace yet again."I will be fine." 

The hero nodded reluctantly.

"Okay."

"Just keep your eyes on the road."

"Okay Robbie." 

The moon was huge and hung low over the highway, Robbie leaned back against the truck’s ragged bench seat and continued to watch the road, his ears trained on the rumble of the engine and the sound of tires against the asphalt. He was careful not to press the cut on the back of his head against anything that might disturb his wound or the two tiny stitches holding it together. 

The stitches probably hadn’t been necessary; any scar would have been covered by his hair after all, but head wounds tended to bleed a lot and Robbie had had enough pain medication by the time they’d been offered that not getting any dirtier had seemed like a good enough reason. 

He planned to cut them out on his own in a week or so with a sterilized pair of tweezers. Robbie already had the mirrors in his bathroom set up so that he could see his head from every angle and it wasn’t worth another hospital trip to get them professionally removed. Robbie had taken out his own stitches before. 

Sportacus would have probably been horrified if he knew, but Robbie didn’t plan on telling him. 

“We’re about a minute from our exit.” Robbie knew the way by heart. Even after he’d moved to Lazytown he’d left often enough to know his way back. The route between his lair and Busy City had been well travelled, especially during the first year or so. After a while he’d simply grown too lazy to make the trip, but the highway hadn’t changed. 

“Okay Robbie.” He made the turn just slightly too quickly, but Robbie didn’t comment, didn’t even flinch. Reacting would have been too much effort at this point. Instead he relished the last few minutes of silent company, enjoying it and impatiently waiting for it to end in equal measure. 

“Just pull over by the billboard, I’ll part the truck properly later.” It would probably be a few days before he would be able to summon the motivation to do so but Robbie didn’t care. The truck would keep. 

Sportacus remained oddly silent. There are now visible bags under his eyes, and blond hair peeked out from under the hero’s ridiculous blue hat, washed out in the cool evening light. He parked the car by the curb and sat quietly, his eyes still fixed at some point beyond the windshield.

“Will you be okay?” Sportacus asked, Robbie noticed that the finger tapping had stopped. “Is it alright for you to be alone in your home tonight?” 

“Yeah.” Robbie responded. “I’ll be fine.” He was not supposed to sleep without supervision but he planned to anyway. It was just a precaution and his concussion had been declared relatively minor by the overtired nurse who had examined him. 

Sportacus didn’t seem convinced.

“If I’m in trouble you’ll know about it.” Robbie had to admit that the hero’s nosy magic crystal was good for something. If only that it would allow him some space while he recovered.

Beside him Sportacus sighed, looking downcast. Robbie had the ridiculous thought that somehow he’d really done it. For once in his life he’d been part of something that had defeated Sportacus. It left a bitter taste in his mouth that clashed with the mild sense of victory that accompanied it. 

“Hey Sportaflop...” he said, speaking before he had the chance to think anymore. “Thank you for bringing me to the hospital. I did need the help.” The admission was even more bitter, but the hero perked up immediately. He wasn’t quite smiling, but he looked less like he wanted to sink through the floor and for some reason Robbie counted that as a win. 

When had this all become so complicated? 

“You’re welcome Robbie.”

[luescris]

A Silent Road (Sonic One-shot)

Yes, this is a Sonic thing. But believe me, I don't think y'all have seen a Sonic one-shot like this one before. You might be rather intreiged in reading it. >:33

In all honesty though, I didn't know what I was doing when I started this. I just improvised so ye-

There was only so much a super fast blue hedgehog could do in his free time. A lot of things that normal Mobians do usually bored him quickly, too quickly, in fact, and sometimes that very fact bothered him. Sonic loved adventure, loved fighting with that addicting adrenaline rush he would get in near-death situations. Everyone knew that. But when there was no butt kicking to be had, it was difficult for him to find things to do a lot of times. Sure, he loved to take naps, and he would occasionally read a book or two, or simply lay somewhere to stare up at the sky. He’d chat with Tails here, hang with Amy there, have a brawl with a rather easily ticked Knuckles occasionally. When he wasn't doing those things, he'd be out on a run, though even that began to bore him slowly. All of the different cities and countries he'd passed started to feel the same to him. After all, he's traveled around Mobius so many times thanks to his faster-than-normal legs. It was starting to feel a little cliche to Sonic. He felt as if he had seen everything already, experienced all the new places there was to see.

Or at least, so he thought.

He was out on another one of his runs when his options had--yet again--ran out. He enjoyed the wind against his quills, how the world sped by him in blurred colors, but he couldn't help but feel as if… As if something was off. Like he was missing something. He then realized that nothing was in front of him to stop him in his tracks. Usually, there would be a few trees, or cars honking at him, or buildings he would have to run over. But there was just… Nothing. So, out of curiosity, he slowed to a stop to look at his surroundings.

All around him was a silent road.

No cars were on it, and without the sounds, the world suddenly felt quiet in an odd way. He didn't hear any birds, as the only signs of greenery was the yellow grass that swayed on the sides of the old and cracked road under his feet. The hot summer sun behind him beat down on his blue quills as he looked around, blinking. The entire area felt rather old-timey. The road went no other direction but straight for as long as Sonic could see, disappearing into the horizon of the light blue sky. Not a cloud could be seen, though far into it a single bird circled high above. All Sonic could do was stare, for some odd reason awed by the rare and strange place he had found. As he stood there, he realized that this road must have been abandoned for some reason, and wondered why. People were really missing out. A tumbleweed gently skidded across with the gentle breeze.

Then, Sonic felt the pieces click together, as he realized he too was missing out on sights like this. He may have ran through all those cities, but he only very rarely stopped to actually look at them and experience what wonders they had to offer. Not to mention all of the secret and new places he could find in forests beyond. He smiled at himself, placing his hands on his hips as he turned around slowly to look behind him, ignoring the heat.

Smart move, He told himself in his head with a chuckle.

The place was like an old photograph, and he wondered if there were other places like this. Then, out of the blue, he heard a car's engine in the distance, his ear flicking in the direction of the sound with his eyes. He watched as--slowly--something in the distance glinted when the Sun's rays hit metal. For a vehicle, it went rather slow, too. Just out of curiosity, Sonic simply stood there and watched as it approached, and for reasons unknown to him, he never once felt his impatience rise to make his foot tap on the asphalt. He guessed it was the effect of the road. Eventually, the car was close enough so that he could tell it had a white exterior, and while shiny, it did look rather old, as if to match the street, and an old man sat in the driver's seat, whistling to a tune that played on his radio. He only stopped when he had glanced over at Sonic, a smile on his face as he recognized the blue hero.

He pulled his car to a stop beside the hedgehog, shutting off his radio and engine, and raised a hand in greeting. “Why, isn't it Sonic the Hedgehog! Never thought I'd see you around these parts of Mobius.” He chuckled, having a slight southern accent to his voice. “What brings you here, sonny?”

“Nothing really.” Sonic replied with a shrug. “Just got caught up in sight seeing is all. Where's all the other cars?”

“Other cars?” The old man blinked, then understanding flickered in his seemingly ancient eyes. “Oh, ya mean all those other doohickey vehicles. See, this road was closed off a long, long while ago, back before you were as big as you were.” He then chuckled. “Why, I remember a time when we didn't have you, or that Eggman around. The first time ah heard o' you, you were so small it almost seemed impossible such a young thing could do so much. I watched you grow, though, and it was something.”

Sonic shuffled his feet awkwardly, scratching the side of his head. He wasn't used to people talking about when he was younger. Just how old was this man? “Er… Yeah. Anyway, about the road. Why'd they close it off?”

A dark look crossed the man's face. “Well… There was a lot of crashes and accidents that would happen here. So much so that people began to think that it was cursed, or haunted. For a while, it was this road that had the most amounts of accidents in this state. People began to tell stories about it soon after, sayin’ that they would see ghosts and other unexplainable things at night as they crossed, which led them to the crashes. Eventually, it got so bad, to where the government decided to shut it down.”

“All because of crashes?” Sonic scoffed. “That seems odd.”

“Odd indeed. However,” The man leaned forward, a strange glint in his eyes. “This wasn't no ordinary road. Before, it was a large cemetery.”

A chill went down the hedgehog's spine.

The old man sighed sadly, leaning back into his car. “Yes, a darned shame. The company that built over it had no compassion for any of the poor souls. Served them right, tho’.” He looked up and pointed. “You see that there over in the distance?”

Sonic turned his head to follow where he was pointing. At first, he couldn't see it very well, being so far off, but he strained his eyes, and saw that there was a large pile of wood shimmering in the heat waves. He nodded wearily.

“That's the ol’ church that ran it. Shut down right after the road was built. Got ran out of town.”

The blue hedgehog looked back at him. “Why would someone do that? And… How come you're still riding it?”

“Not sure, sunny. Whoever built this road though, better hope they be sorry. As for why I'm on the road, well… I like to reminisce every now and then about the good times. Don't hurt to be a rebel every now and then, don’t it?” He winked slyly. “You of all people should know that.”

Sonic chuckled. Suppose that's true…

A beeping then interrupted, and he looked down at his watch. His eyes widened. “My goodness, look at that. It's high past time ah head home.” He started his car again, the radio being turned on as well, and he turned back to the hedgehog with a tip of his hat and a smile. “Well, it was nice to meet ya, Sonic. You're a rather delightful lil fella.” He held out a hand, which Sonic took and shook it. “Maybe we'll meet again one day. Keep on doin' what you're doin’.”

Sonic grinned. “Will do.”

The old man pushed the stick drive, and went on his way again, continuing to whistle. Sonic watched him for a moment as the car rolled on, then shook his head and continued in the direction he had headed before, though his feet felt as if he was stepping on rather delicate glass. He wondered if the story he had told him was true, and if it was, he made a mental note to not come back here. Just so he could make sure he didn't, “disturb the resting souls” under his shoes. Then he remembered something, stopped abruptly, and turned around.

“Wait!!” Sonic shouted as he did. “I never got your-!!”

He stopped.

The old man with the old vehicle wasn't seen at all on the road. Not where he should've been seen. The blue hedgehog blinked, feeling rather unsettled, and turned around slowly. Instead of starting at a jog, he boosted at full speed, wanting to get off the rather strange area as fast as he could.

Sonic had a feeling he had just conversed with a ghost on a Silent Road.