#it defeated erik twice though so that's good enough for me

[sheepalmighty]

Couldn't concentrate on a bunch of stuff I wanted to draw so I settled with drawing SIGNS UNAC merch shirts instead (modeled by a couple mercs)

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Sound Proof

okay so this fic was from Wattpad and I found it in my google docs so I’m just gonna upload it here for ya’ll lol. I didn’t tag, I wrote this a while ago let me know what ya’ll think!!!

Warnings: Smut.

With dancing, came immense concentration and a lot of cardio.

That was all okay for Damara. She wore her silk pressed hair back into a pony, simple Polo Ralph Lauren hat on to keep her edges slicked back, high waist thin grey leggings, all white cropped tank, and matching white Vans. Damara held onto the aluminum double bar Ballet barre, studying her glistening reflection within the wall mirrors that covered every single area from floor to ceiling. 

Her chest rose and fell, right hand coming up to rub sweat off the tip of her nose. She had thirty minutes down, only twenty more to go. Being a pro dancer was fun when you posted tutorials on Instagram and YouTube, but when it came down to touring internationally and getting a chance to perform at Coachella, dance became a full time job.

Damara stares down at her version three iWatch, allowing herself to become consumed with the breathing app. She watched it expand with every breath, then declined whenever she exhaled. After her breathing returned to normal, Damara pulled up her iTunes playlist again, choosing to go sensual with a little bit of flash dance routine.

The instrumental to Kendrick Lamar- Love.

This song was always a warm up for her because it got her ‘in the mood’. She could feel the want and need behind the beat and his words. Damara snakes her hands up her frame, sliding slowly from the cuff of her ass, to her lower back, and lightly up and over her shoulders, forearms pressing into her large D cup breasts. 

One thing is for sure, Damara could move her torso like Shakira, body rolling and ticking to the beat with perfect harmony. Doing a sudden spin on her tiptoes, Damara Lowers herself to the polished flooring, arching her back off of the surface with her legs spread into a V, before lifting her lower half off the ground to do a series of air kicks like she was back in an 80s workout video or like she was in Kanye West’s video for Fade instead of Teyana Taylor.

She turned over onto her hands, hitting a side to side split perfectly before lifting from the ground to walk seductive and tantalizing towards the middle of the dance studio.

That’s where it began, the sweatiest most bewitching dance yet. Her hands cascade everywhere, eyes closed to take in the beat with heightened hearing. Her hands rubbed along the outline of her pussy in a teasing manner. Damara was so shameless when it came to dancing provocatively. She twirled and made an S with her body like a snake, body in sync to the beat. The sultry look in her eyes could trap you like Medusa. You would think she danced to one of Prince's songs from the outside looking in. 

The song came to an end, Damara lifting her shirt over her head and tossing it in the corner, picking up her gallon water bottle to take a huge sip. She wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, feeling the burn in her curvy waistline from all the crunching and belly rolling that came with dancing. Her gluteal muscles were on fire as well, causing Damara to admire her ass in the mirror, sweat staining the crack of her ass over the fabric. 

—

Finishing up, Damara grabs all her things before leaving the dance studio at the gym she finally snagged a membership for. The gym had two sections: one for premium guests who had VIP access to the soundproof workout rooms or standard. Sadly, Damara was standard. She always wanted to workout in the soundproof tinted glass rooms like all the extremely fit individuals did, but one look through those glasses at the equipment housed within would make you withdraw with fear. Her personal trainer had stressed for her to go VIP, bribing her with access to the ice bath room and luxury pool where you can watch the LA skyline like you’re in a hotel.

She made a left at the end of the hall, walking with her shirt and towel over her shoulder to the main gymnasium area full of musky people and terrible workout music. Even though Damara did a one hour session of dancing, she couldn’t help but to gravitate towards the stair master for a good fifteen minute burn. Once there, Damara climbs the stairs, beginning her workout on nine speed, instantly feeling the ache. Her eyes scanned the area, finally landing on a group of women huddled around one of the sound proof workout rooms for VIP gold card members. 

She let out a tired chuckle, shaking her ponytail clad head before pausing to drink some water. Of COURSE they would all salivate over some random ass man instead of working out, because that’s what gyms are for these days. On queue every day Damara comes to the gym, once the clock strikes 8 pm, a hoard of women suffocate the glass, fogging it with their heavy breathing and wetting it with saliva from their wiggling tongues. Damara would have been one of them if she listened to her group of girlfriends who didn’t come in tonight. Supposedly, there is this fine ass man that comes to the gym every day, around 8 pm. Damara never seems to catch him, and even if she did, no man was that fine to act like a hyena over. He couldn’t be that sexy.

“Ooo, girl, let me get off this got damn treadmill he back again!” Damara turned to find a short, slim, mocha skinned girl with a track runners body ogling the group of women, her friend who looked like she could be her sister, biting her lip.

“I wonder if he’s doing the pull ups right now, fuckk. You know his dick stay hard when he working out.” 

The other girl laughs, “I just want to suck it. Just give me one good time!” 

Both women laughed while Damara tries her best to work out and ignore them. But to her surprise, she couldn’t focus. Not because of the talking, but because she wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Maybe after this she could rub it in her friends faces that whoever this guy was, wasn’t about the hype after all.

Defeated, Damara stopped her workout, quickly lowering herself off the machine and towards some spray and paper towels to wipe away her sweat. Tossing everything, Damara makes her way towards the sound proof workout room straight across from the men’s locker room. 

Here she was, and yet just a few minutes ago she was laughing to herself at how ridiculous it was to come to a gym and stare at a man for two hours. Wasn’t no man fine enough for that.

The glass window straight ahead had about seven ladies standing in front of it, whispering and admiring at what looked like absolutely nothing to Damara. It was so dark she couldn’t see a thing. As she got closer, at first, all she could see through that glass was the usual workout machines of all types and weight racks. Just before she could walk away, he started lifting those weights. Suddenly, as if pulled by some type of force field, Damara turned into a fan girl with glossy eyes and a watery mouth. He had to be the one her friends were talking up. There is no way he couldn’t be the one with how fine he is. 

“This must be your first time noticing Erik.” 

Damara turned to the lady who looked to be twice her age standing next to her.

Damara didn’t respond, she simply looked back at him through that tinted glass. He was so fucking sexy that her jaw dropped; literally. Erik was definitely the one her friends were juiced up over. Not the juice you drink, but the drip from that pussy when she hungry for a nigga as damn fine as he is. 

Erik had been bench pressing weights and she couldn’t get a good enough look at him until he lowered the weights. Yeah, when he was laid out on his back, sweaty muscles moving as he lifted 280 pounds over his head he looked good, but GOD once he stood up was she slapped with his looks.

Erik was wearing sweat shorts that dropped low around his waist, a damp sweat top and a pair of Nike Air Max Trainer 1s on his feet.

His braided back dreads were damp from the perspiration; it really set off his caramel complexion.

Erik returned his weights to their respective places and stood facing that mirror with a bottle of gatorade. Damara could really see how perfect he was. Fine wasn’t even the word, it was so much she could say about him. The look in his eyes, the way his muscles moved in conjunction with him, the smoothness of his skin, the hairstyle that compliments him very well, and let’s not forget those lips. She figured he got many compliments on his lips, as beautiful and suckable as they were. That thick erection he was sporting was an added bonus. All she could see was herself lowering onto it and rocking like crazy, like she was riding a horse. When she returned to reality from her lustful daze, she noticed her hands were flat against the glass, jaw STILL dropped, and her nipples tender and hard practically clawing at him. They were so hard that they were hurting, and the feeling of his lips pulling and sucking and licking on them would have been exactly what she needed, just pull her shirt down and suck em.

All of that talk and fantasizing in her head, ironically made his eyes meet hers. Damara swore she thought those big, dark eyes could see her and only her. The lady she ignored next to her smiled, like she knew what Damara was going through. She did, that’s why her and the others were still there.

——

Feeling a little foolish and embarrassed by her behavior, Damara asked the lady next to her if Erik could see them or was it one of those half way windows.

“Girl, he can see us alright. That’s why his dick is so big and hard poking through those shorts. He sees something he likes.” 

Damara looked back at him, and right then like a spark had been ignited, he smiled a little at her with dimples, then winked before downing the rest of his gatorade. Damara could feel her knees buckle, body so nervous. She decided it was most definitely time to bounce. That night, Damara never told her girls about seeing the living legend, but she did go back the following day, a Wednesday, to stare him down at that window again. She purposely went there alone to have him to herself. It was crazy how obsessed he became.

——

After about a week or so of admiring Erik through that glass, Damara decided to take it up a notch and use the adjoining women’s workroom; yeah, like she could actually bench press any of the equipment in there. Getting into that women’s workroom meant that she had to become a gold member. The upgrade was about 20 dollars more, which landed her to about 80 dollars a month; great.

She felt like she’d been walking the yellow brick road to the emerald city. Opening those double glass doors to her new sanctuary,  she could smell musk no longer, only fresh air and a cool breeze. The music was even better in there, sicko mode playing low through the speakers. It was approximately 7:50 pm, so she knew Erik would be arriving soon. 

At about 8:15, a little later than usual, Erik pulled open the doors and walked into the men’s workroom. He had his dreads crinkled and messy, a pair of Beats solo 3 in black with gold trim over his ears, black Nike pro training top that clung to his body like it was two sizes too small, matching black shorts that hung low on his hips with the waistband of his compression pants peeking through. He hadn’t immediately seen Damara on the other side since she was in the corner tugging on the pull ropes that she couldn’t make budge. She didn’t really know what to do. If she popped out of nowhere near that window, she could scare him to death, and he’d be mad. He looked like the no nonsense type too. 

Damara decided that hiding wouldn’t fix anything so she came out into the open to do some yin yoga poses that helped stretch her body. Sitting Indian style, she started with the butterfly, bending forward while gripping her shoes. The stretch made her moan, all the tension in her back disappearing. Next, she decided on the dragon, bringing one foot forward in a low lunge, stretching out her glutes and back again. Admiring herself, she liked the way her ass looked in the tinted mirror, and apparently so did Erik. Her heart dropped to her stomach like she’d been on the tallest roller coaster, her eyes reverting towards the ground. Damara could feel his eyes on her still as she lifted from the ground, rolling her neck. With one hand on the back of her neck to stretch the muscles, her eyes met his again. That same slight smile graced his face again, almost innocent, but those eyes were dark and sultry, like hot coal.

The heat turned down just a little, Erik walking away leaving Damara a flustered mess.

——

He started out with a little cross training. Damara watched from her workout mat in between doing crunches. Next, he pumped a little iron. She noticed how he enjoyed admiring himself when he lifted weights. The veins in his arms would bulge so much it looked like they wanted to break the surface of his skin. She could see his mouth slightly opened, concentration set in his features, and she just knew he was making those grunting, straining noises that guys make when they workout. Watching those muscles flex and bulge like that made her weak in the knees again. She liked the feeling. When he lay on his back to do the leg lifts, that’s when she lost it in a major way. The weight Damara had in her hand to do Russian twists fell down on her shoulder. She screamed out without even knowing it. All she could feel was pain beginning to throb in her left shoulder, and she laid back on the floor massaging it with a whimper. Unfortunately, at that time Erik was the last thing on her mind. When Damara got enough nerve to look at the window, Erik was pressed against it looking at her. He mouthed to her since it was sound proof, “You aight, Lil Mama?”

After Damara figured out his words, she nodded and gave him the okay symbol with a tired smile. Erik stares at her for a few seconds, scanning her frame in that PUMA workout suit she decided to wear, then moved on to the leg machine again. Damara liked the way he scouted her, and that made the pain in her shoulder go unnoticed.

——

Throughout their workouts, they would peep each other, and he liked the attention she was showering him with. There he was again with those pull-ups, directly facing her with intimidation in his eyes. Somehow, he had lost his shirt along the way, sweat pouring off his body like he’d been doing push-ups in the rain. 

Damara’s workout suit was almost see-through and hugging all her curves, and he definitely paid attention because his erection was good and hard, tenting the front of those black workout shorts like wild. Damara wanted to think it was solely her making those pants tent like that, but working the hell out of those machines may have played a role in it. She’s good, but not that good.

The more she looked at Erik, the more she wanted to taste him, feel him pressing into her throat. 

Damara looked down at her iWatch and realized it was minutes to closing time, but she couldn’t leave that room, let alone that window. She hated to leave because he was worth staying and getting caught with. Knowing the kind of man Erik was, he probably got a kick out of the chicks staring his fine ass down, then going home to his equally fine ass girl. That was the kind of luck Damara had: finding the juiciest man on the planet, but not able to land him because he was taken.

Damara suddenly had a lightbulb moment. Erik was a gold member, with a passkey to leave the gym if he ever got locked in. Damara could lie and say she lost her passkey, having to go to him to get out...or to get off! Shit, lord knows she needs that, it’s been way too long. Suddenly, Erik made a move she hadn’t been prepared for. He stepped away from the weight trainer and approached the window again. Damara couldn’t move, couldn’t muster a speech, all she could do was watch him approach her with that sweaty, perfect body. Maybe not so perfect to some because it was littered with tiny raised scars, but to her it was absolutely perfect. Man, the closer he got to her, the hotter she got. In all her orgasmic nonsense with a pussy so wet and probably creaming her panties, it soon dawned on her that he probably approached her to ask her why she’s still there; that maybe he was tired of being stared at as if he were a zoo animal. Damara got scared and backed up.

Erik backed up a bit, confusion on his face before chuckling, giving her a head to toe view of him, then he got busy. His eyes stared into hers as he massaged that massive erection up and down through his pants. Damara could feel her nectar elevating within her core. Then it hit her, he was about to give her a private sex show. Was she about to bounce? Fuck no, she stayed and watched everything that pretty nigga did.

When his erection got hard and thick within his pants, he let out a fucking dazzling smile that could make her cum right there. No man had ever smiled so wickedly at her that her panties got wet; then again, she’d never met Erik. His pecs were mouthwatering to the point of drool, contours and ripples were everywhere. All her nasty little tongue wanted to do was lick, lick from his collarbone to his abs and continue south. Her hands shook as they clutched her chest, feeling her nipples brush against her fingers. All the while, her eyes never left his.

——-

Bending to remove his shoes and socks was a chore because that delicious dick was in the way, but he managed. His fingers beckoned Damara to get closer. Damara knew he was going to slide his pants down next, the nigga was clever with his seduction. She moved back to that window, and watched him slide his shorts to his hips. His dick bounced out, sprang to life, and she dropped to her knees, wondering how all that would feel stroking her insides. He was real heavy, the type of dick where the tip and about two inches could only fit in the pussy. The type of dick where you would push him away while he blew your back out from getting too deep. The type of dick where you had to use two hands to jerk while you sucked; you really gotta be a pro to suck a dick like that with no hands, not to mention ride a dick like that.

Erik bit at his plump bottom lip, massaging it with his tongue while his hand massaged that long pole; that damn snake. The more he stroked, the bigger and bigger it became within his hand. He strokes that beautiful dick until he was about ready to nut. He mouthed at her through that sound proof glass, 

“I want that throat.”

His muscles tensed, he squeezed it harder, and playfully rubbed it against the glass directly where her mouth was. She swore she could taste him, feel him sliding it between her lips and forcing his inches into her. Erik stroked it so hard that she could see the moisture forming on his tip. Damara couldn’t help herself, she had to reach between her thighs and stroke her pussy to match his tempo. Damara pulled her suit down, revealing her drenched sports bra and panties to him. She didn’t want to waste any time the way her fingers made its way to her panties, pulling the fabric to the side to reveal her wet sticky treat. The more he stroked himself, the deeper her fingers slide into her valley; all three of them. When Erik dropped to the floor, she scrambled to see what he was going to do next. It was fucking outrageous! That pretty ass nigga got on his back and moved his hips up and down like a bitch was on top of him. Damara screamed in ecstasy over the sight of it. Her fingers went deeper and deeper like she was trying to scoop her cum out the pussy. She turned around and arched her back, rubbing at her clit with one hand while fingering herself with the other. He pumped hard and long, perspiration dripping from him, muscles tensing. Damara just knew he was going to explode on the floor instead of her which was a damn shame. No. No fucking way. He turned over on his stomach, and did push-ups, pumping those hips and dick into oblivion. He still hadn’t cum for her yet. His arm shook when he did his one-handed push-ups, dick throbbing in his other hand. She felt her orgasm building deep in her belly, her legs shaking from muscle strain and intense pleasure. That was the grand finale, watching him cream into his own hands while staring her down. 

Damara screamed out, Cumming on her fingers with a shake of her body.

——

He returned to his back and pressed out so much cum that she almost fainted from the orgasm he gave her. When her breathing returned to normal, Damara looked into her hand, now covered with so much of her own thick moisture that her fingers were sticking together. Then she glanced up at him watching her with a sweet smile on those wonderful lips—his erection was still in his hand and still harder than boulders. 

The windows were nice and steamed by the time he and Damara finished. She watched him grab the rest of his belongings and headed for the showers. Damara took off as well, figuring that was all she’d get from him. 

Damara made her way to the showers herself, letting her plan go. At least she got a good show from him so she was thankful. 

While in the shower, Damara couldn’t help but smile as she wet her body under the steamy water. She struggled to fight the urge that this was it and probably her last sex show a man would ever give her and he didn’t even touch her. Damara allowed the warm water to trickle down her aching joints and relaxed. Her body mitt delicately encircled her breasts, pretending the sultry touch was Erik’s fingers, sucking on them gently before making a tongue track down to her core. She shuddered in waves of heat. Her body trembled, spasms, taking her mind off the pain from her injured shoulder. She completely gave in to pleasure and let the most tremendous orgasm hit her like no other one had ever before...well, until Erik happened on the scene. 

Then.

“Damn, girl.”

The words came from nowhere. Damara assumed they had been in her mind. Nonetheless, her eyes opened and she twirled around to see if anyone had come in. There Erik was, standing directly in front of her. Damara tried reaching for her towel but Erik snatched it from the railing before she could get it.

His cool, seductive voice melted into her horny spirit. 

“Imagine how big this dick would be if I would have been standing right above that ass, watching you finger that pussy from the front. All I could see was that phat ass shaking and quivering to some sexual fantasy. Was it about me?” 

Damara couldn’t speak. All she could do was look down at the towel around his midsection, sporting a killer of an erection. Her mouth opened, her voice cracked. 

“I...I, uh…”

“It’s okay, babygirl. I already know that ass was thinking about me. How could you not after the show I gave you.” 

Erik moves toward her, one step away from entering the stall with her. 

“You liked that show I already know that shit. I already know I got you”— he slapped her pussy, then reached around to palm her ass roughly, smacking each ass cheek causing it to sting—“hot enough to want more, right? You should anyway since I gave you a little taste of what the fuck I got,” he pulled his towel off and entered the stall.

It was different from having that window in between them both, Damara covering her nakedness with her arms. Erik pulled them down.

“Don’t you dare cover up a fucking thing.”

The grip on her wrists were so tight her hands shook.

“So, you just walk in women’s locker rooms? What if I wasn’t the only one here?” 

He chuckles, letting her wrists go, “And? I don’t give a fuck about that. It’s okay for me to do whatever I fucking please in here.” He kisses her cheek. “I’m Erik—“

“I know who you are, Erik. Every woman within a five-city radius knows who you are.” 

“Yeah? And who might you be?”

“Damara; nothing exotic, nothing romantic, just regular old Damara.”

“Not from where I’m standing, girl. You are so fucking sexy. I bet you taste good too, I know that pussy enjoyed me pleasing you.”

“It did, I can still feel it.” She lets out a moan.

“Well then that pussy won’t mind if I please you again?”

Damara relaxed, his hands covering her breasts, much the same way they did in her daydream. He stroked the tight tips with his thumbs, then replaced them with his lips. She was right, that mouth was made to suck on some titties. Erik sucked them ferociously, licking them like they were candy. Her head reared back as he sucked like he was trying to milk her. Her back arched off that wall, his arm circling her waist and pulling her close.

“So, you want everything, huh?”

“Every single drop.”

Erik’s muscles tightened around Damara; their bodies pressed against the wall. As the water continues to drench them, he lifted her into his arms; her legs hugged his hips. She felt the tip of that delicious dick play with her opening, tease it, rub up and down on it. She faces him, staring into those delicious brown eyes of his. 

“It’s almost closing time, I couldn’t leave yet without a little taste.” 

It definitely wouldn’t be a little with how big he was. Damara prepares herself for the surprise, her pussy clenching and quivering on its own. Erik takes his fingers to caress her clit, taking a single finger to tease it with a flickering motion. Damara kept a firm grip on his neck, pressed against the shower wall. 

“I’m playing wit that clit good, huh?”

She responds with a bite to his shoulder, her pussy jerking in his hand. Erik brings his fingers to his mouth, spits on them, then brings them back to her clit. He was very generous with his spit, making her pussy extra sloppy. Clearly with him still going at it on her clit he aimed to make her cum this time with his own fingers. 

“Ok, you working my clit,” she felt him take his dick to finish it off, rubbing her clit in circles. The smoothness of the tip of his dick hit every sensitive spot on her clit. 

“Make that pussy cum,” she edged him on.

His hand came down to grip her ass while he worked, her body shuddering, legs securing around him even harder, moans echoing off of the shower walls. 

“Shit, fuck, damn…”

She could feel the sensitivity in her pussy too.

“Open up for me.”

Damara opened wider, Erik bringing his dick to her pussy. He pushed his way in slow, only by a few inches before she clamped up. Her guess was correct, he was too much to take. Damara was scared now, she didn’t know if she could go through with it.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking big,” her eyes grew wide.

“Ha, You knew that already when you saw me jerking it.” 

“I’m too tight.”

“So?” He moves his hips, teasing her walls to let him in further. Her body crunched, hand to his chest. Was she fucking a monster dick or what? His shit was too damn much.

“Chill,” her eyelids fluttered. She wouldn’t be able to stand.

“You’ve been eyeing me all fucking week, teasing me and shit and now you wanna cry about how big my dick is?” 

He kissed at her neck, causing her to moan and rub her wet face against his. She brought her hands to his biceps, squeezing them tightly. 

“Be gentle, okay? It’s too damn big.”

Erik takes that invitation, gripping her hips firm before pressing himself in inch by inch, pausing in between. Each time he entered her it felt like he was ripping her a new hole, but it felt so full in a good way. Along with the pain came a shock of pleasure. The vein on the underside of his shaft rubbed smoothly at the floor of her pussy, a new sensation she had never felt. It curves at the tip to hit her g spot, swiping it each time he moves his hips.

“I don’t think I ever had a dick this good,” she hissed the moment he fully entered her. 

“I already know you didn’t with all that crying you was doing.” He pulled out to the tip, purposely, to make her feel every inch again. Erik pushes back in, watching the way her face went through a series of confused and unprepared emotions. It was time to pick up the pace now. Erik started off slow, his strokes growing and her moans. Damara held onto the rails along the walls of the shower, watching with astonishment how Erik’s dick fucked her.

“Oh, oh, omg,” she shook tremendously, a single hand clawing at Erik’s chest. He simply fucks her with deeper strokes, reminding her what came with every inch. Clearly he had a fetish for making women cry from how big he was. That rock hard body came with a huge package. 

“Are you fucking kidding me!!!!!” She felt a rush of pressure forming in her lower belly, so big it pushes Erik’s dick out, a fountain of liquid pouring. The more she clenched, the more it flowed. Damara couldn’t control it and it shocked her. No way, this nigga made her squirt and for the first time ever. She’d always tried to make that happen for herself but it never worked so she would give up. 

That seemed to fuel Erik even more, he brought one of her legs up into a split, entering her body again. This time, he flexed his abs, bringing his dick into even more of a curve, really hitting her spot. Erik knew what he was doing, he wanted to see the reaction again.

“Come on, take this big dick,” he held her leg up even if it shook.

“Ah, fuck yes, shit it’s happening again!!” Before she could relax, here she was, squirting again but Erik stayed in. He smiled, slamming her so hard with his dick that she could feel it in her stomach. At this point, Damara might as well lose count of how many orgasms she’ll have. 

———

It was true.

Damara has missed two days of the gym for a reason. 

She couldn’t get out of the damn bed the morning after her and Erik had sex. Her pussy was sore and sensitive, inner thighs shaking when she stood from the bed. Damara didn’t bother exchanging numbers with him, unsure if she would even be able to take him up on a second chance. Deciding to be a big girl, Damara went to the gym for a dance session. 

She stood in the mirrored dance studio wearing a leotard colored bronze, a pair of sweats on and her hair in a messy bun with her vans. She skimmed through her playlist on iTunes, adjusting her AirPods to her liking.

Damara had to squat ballerina style to stretch her thigh muscles, bringing her leg up to extend the muscles of her inner thigh. Rolling her neck, she turns from the mirror, deciding to dance to a Nicki song. Once she got in the groove with the tempo, she started her routine. Her body moved like magic. The mirror wasn’t her own audience anymore, Erik was standing at the door watching her closely. He didn’t make a move, his eyes following her skillful moves along with her dangerous body, I mean, Damara was thick. Even through her loose fitted sweats he could tell. Now that Erik got a good look at her, he recognized her from Instagram.

DeetheeDancer.

She was pretty popular on social media for her dancing. Erik watched a few of her videos from time to time, loving the way she moved. She had this way of letting you know she was sexy from the look she gave in the camera when it followed her body. It was as if she was daring you to touch her, let her throw it back on you and see if you can catch it.

——-

Damara finished off to her first song, bending over with her hands on her knees to catch her breath. She paused her music, picking up her water to take a long sip. After recapping it, Damara’s eyes sweep the area, landing on the door and seeing a familiar face waving at her. 

It was him, the big dick nigga that had her on a two day hiatus. He looked to be arriving at the gym because he didn’t look worn out just fresh with a bomber jacket over top of his workout gear, beats over his ears and shades on. 

“Mind if I come in?” He mouthed.

Damara caught her breath before smiling, motioning for him to enter. He finally stepped through, dropping the duffel bag that was on his shoulder.

“Why ain’t you tell me you were a dancer? You ain’t so average.” 

“It’s kind of hard to do that when you were balls deep in me.” She mouthed tiredly.

“You talk hella bold but when I’m in there I have you running though.” He removed his shades, blessing her with his brown eyes.

“Mind if I watch? I got all day.” Erik removed his jacket.

“Fine with me,” Damara was okay with it, she had eyes on her with dancing almost all the time.

“She plugged her phone into the wall Bluetooth, settling on dancing to some pussy popping music from her freaky playlist. Yes, this was absolutely purposeful.

Right off the back, Megan Thee Stallion Freak Nasty began playing. She started off with a routine she already had to this song. She poses, hands rubbing down her frame before squatting down with a grip on her knees while swaying her hips. She did a turn, one hand in her hair with the other on her ass. Once the beat dropped, she got into the groove with a sexy hip hop routine that involved a lot of footwork and ass shaking. Her ass shook alright, like a goddamn tidal wave straight from the sea. She bounced in a circle, spreading her legs wide before landing into a perfect split that deserved tens across the board like she was a gymnast. 

Erik was impressed, and so was the huge dick that jumped happily in his compression briefs. She was clearly giving it her all, impressing him. He could fuck her ass royally with his dick, congratulate her for the little talent show. She was on the floor again, doing a perfect side split, her eyes moving from the mirror and zeroing in on his erection. She must have known that he was turned on because her eyes didn’t move from his crotch the entire time she grind, bent her body over, and twerked her ass. 

“You think that pussy can handle this dick today?”

She stops moving, hyperventilating before pausing her music.

“Nah, keep that playlist rolling, I want you to dance on this dick.”

She looked at him. He looked at her. She whispered, “okay, I admit it. You’ve got too much dick for me.” 

“Girl,” He wasn’t trying to hear that.

“I’m serious, I need to be able to move not walk like a cripple.” 

“It’s a gift,” he smiles wide.

Damara walks over to the mirrored wall, holding onto the bar before stretching her leg all the way up to her head. 

“See, you preparing yourself already.”

Erik began to approach her, Damara bent over with her head between her legs, looking from behind. She could see Erik making his way to her, the feeling in her stomach making her nervous. Damara lifts back up, grabbing a towel to wipe her neck off. Here he was now, fully enveloped in her personal space with his hands on either side of the bar, chin resting on her shoulder.

“I mean, you really got that shit up there, huh?” He was referring to her leg.

She chuckles, “Chill out, monster.”

“Monster? Hm,” Erik turns Damara around, his eyes scanning her heaving chest, “Well, it is October.” 

She smiles, licking her lips before looking at his, “You plan on scaring me again?”

Erik takes his thumb to stroke her chin, “I thought you were afraid of big, bad things?”

Damara swallows spit, eyes fluttering. She grabbed the bar on either side to brace herself.

“You ain’t know? This is my favorite time of the year.”

Damara places her hands on the back of Erik’s head, pulling him down to meet her lips. They kissed, Erik’s hand on her hips now, pulling her off and against him. The next song that played was dvsn- With me.

“C’ mon,” Erik kisses her again, their full lips in French kiss mode, “dance on me.”

Damara takes her time to work her hips into the slow beat, Erik easily matching her movements. She was impressed, turning now, dipping forward with her ass against his crotch, twirling her hips in a hypnotizing circle. Erik places one arm across her chest, his face buried in her hair, Damara turning to face him slightly while she moved her hips tantalizingly slow against him. 

“Mm,” Erik looked her frame up and down.

Damara turns, on her knees, arching back before rolling her body forward, grabbing Erik’s legs as she began to rise while her hips moved from side to side. She went to her tip toes then, one leg cleanly rising to rest on his shoulder before she arched her back, jumping up for Erik to catch her. He does, twirling her around before slowing down as the song slowed, their eyes meeting. 

“Wow,” she spoke breathlessly.

Before she could stop herself, Damara places her lips against his, Erik bringing her to the floor. Between frantic kisses, Erik undressed her, her naked sweaty body warm against his. She moans, arms around his neck. Erik takes his fingers, slipping inside to get a feel and taste.

“You taste just right,” He sucks slowly on his fingers before taking those same fingers to rub her nipples. 

“Fuck,” Damara pushes Erik down to the floor, her hands moving quickly to undress him. She needed him no matter how big he was. The sight of him again almost knocked her out. Damara grabs his dick, licking her lips before sinking her mouth over him. Erik instantly palmed the back of her head, biting his lip and saying how much of a good girl she was.

Damara sucked like her life was at stake, spit covering her hands and chest. She couldn’t fit him all in her mouth but she did her absolute best. Erik pulls her mouth off, watching the string of spit connect with her lower lip.

“Climb up, Baby girl.” Erik motions for Damara to come to him, Her legs straddling him on either side before her arms grabbed his shoulders tightly. She tried to prepare herself but the moment Erik slipped inside again she squeezed his biceps with her nails. Erik hisses, taking his hands to grab at her waist to keep her still. He started fucking up into her at an even pace, the pressure within her too much. She could feel the shit in her spine. Damara looked back at it, eyes closing in sweet pleasure before looking down at Erik’s smiling face.

“God, please keep fucking me.”

Erik grabs her ass, anchoring his hips before picking up the pace. The scream from her was so loud it bounced off the walls. 

“These walls ain’t sound proof, Baby girl.” 

She couldn’t move or control her cries. Erik was deep within her guts. Damara begged for Erik to keep going over and over, a series of please and I need more escaping her mouth.

“You gonna squirt on me like that again?” He bit his lip, raising his brows in a rude manner to initiate a response from her, “I said is that what you’re gonna do?!” 

“Yes!!!!!”

Damara snapped, squirting like he asked. Erik slaps both her ass cheeks for that.

“Good girl, I know you got more for me.”

“Yes, Erik.” 

She froze, mouth suspended open before cumming again. Within seconds?

“FUCKkkkkk.” 

“Mhm,” he fucked up into her at the same killer pace, “mhm...mhm.”

“STOP!” She cries out, the urge to cum right there.

“Stop it, I’m gonna cum again!”

“Girl, shut up and cum.” 

Erik was close himself.

“Shut that crying up and cum on this dick.”

She went silent, body trembling before cumming for a third time.

“Oh my God,” she cries.

“You gonna let me cum in that mouth, Baby girl?”

Erik bounced Damara a few more times before slipping her off, standing to his feet quickly while she stayed on her knees. Damara opened wide, waiting for his treat. He jerked his big dick, grunts deep and eyes low and dangerous. After three pumps the cream spilled, Damara’s tongue ready. He tasted so damn good. 

“All of it, I’m not playing with you.”

She grabs his dick, licking and sucking all of it off.

“Good girl,” he puckered his lips down at her, mouthing a kiss. She almost fainted.

“You gonna have them thirsty bitches mad”

Damara didn’t care.

[mrs-livvy]

Brown Sugah Baby: Chapter 5

Prologue || MTC || C.1 || C.2 || C.3 || C.4 || C.5

{What’s up everyone! Here is another installment of Brown Sugah Baby! I don’t own the Divine Nine; the Southern University marching band nor the canon characters. I only own the OCs. This is pure fiction and nothin’ but imagination. This upcoming week I will be on vacation, Spring Break, so nothing will come out next week. I’ll be writing stuff yes, but not posting new content. I’ll still be on though. Enjoy!}

Warnings: brief look into Nefe’s past which is slightly dark. Emotional abuse mention and false claims.

Song inspiration[s]: They Don’t Know by Jon B

Word count: 2,813 [it gets deep yall]

Tag Squad: @maddiestundentwritergaines || @destinio1 || @designerwriterchic || @terrablaze514 || @themyscxiras || @sirenmouths || @chaneajoyyy

[Continuation of Chapter 4]

“Oh that’s cute. Real cute.” Melanie scoffed and sighed in a high pitched tone.

“The pink and green will reign supreme, and will be ready to get down, if you know what I mean?” Melanie and her girls went and the crowd loved them, as they sway their hips and act as raunchy as possible.

“Aww that’s cute. Real cute.” Nattie was next and she got a standing ovation, causing her adrenaline to rise up even more. Doing her stomp from pure memory, over having to practice it several times, having the girls follow in pursuit.

“You know we originate, we never duplicate. I am the boss, you can’t get none of this sauce.” Nattie felt in control after her call out and saw Jordana come up.

“I guess we didn’t take out the trash this morning ladies.” Giggling a bit before high fiving Melanie, and flipping her hair as well. Jordana was Melanie’s sidekick and the campus bunny. Being the campus bunny was a good thing, but she claims it is. Adjusting their pearls, she lead them.

“We tried to be nice, we ain’t gone tell you twice. You give us a mean glare, but all the boys love to stare.” The AKA’s riled up the crowd even more and Nefe knew her girls weren’t doing down without a fight. She gave a head nod to her girl Nakia.

“Oh that was cute.” She wipes a fake tear from eye, and glanced around the crowd herself. Taking in the ambiance and feeling loose. Basking in the glory of her achievement.

“Now now, ladies. You all are cute, but there can only be one true crew of the yard. Let me show you.” She started off in a slow, stomp and clap rhythm. Being egged on by her girls, was encouragement enough for her to lead the stomp into full effect.

“Because we ride, and we don’t hide. This ain’t no race, so get out my face. At least you tried, but oops we lied. You can never be me, cause we the queens of DST!” The gauntlet has been thrown and by the noise of the crowd, the Divas has won the yard battle.

“This isn’t over.” Melanie got up too close to Nefe and that was a major issue.

“You lost Med School. Admit defeat and stroll on outta here with ya girls, while you still can.” She was never one to back down from a fight, but only ever used her words and never her hands. This time she got up and personal in her face.

“Or what? You gonna put a curse on me?” Melanie nudged her head back with her manicured index finger, and Nefe saw red.

“Girl, if you don’t get up outta my face, I will slice you like government cheese!” She lunged for her so fast like cheetah in the Sahara, but watched her get pulled back by Sean. It dawned on her that maybe the rumors were true. She didn’t want to believe them, not one bit.

Instead, M’Baku pulled her back and she didn’t know what to believe anymore. What she saw was 2 years worth of heartache; 2 years of anger and frustration, 2 years of verbal assault from this boy who claims to love her and 2 years of believing she was in love all go down the drain. She watched it all go crash and burn over Melanie. He was making sure she was ok and not his actual girlfriend. Well ain’t this some shit.

“So you datin’ her now? Dios, mi padre me advirtió sobre hombres como tú.” She scoffed, getting angrier by the minuet, speaking in her native tongue as she watched Sean slightly lose the color in his face a bit.

“We speak English in this country-“ before Melanie could even finish her sentence even further, Nefe smacked her across her face so hard the echo ricocheted off the bricks of the buildings. The whole scene paused in affect; Nefe’s chest was heaving in anger.

You could visibly see the red hand print slowly form on the left side of her face. Melanie held her face and couldn’t believe what just happened.

“I fucking warned your dumbass!” She yelled in pure rage, before watching her leave. “And you!” She turned towards Sean who looked at Melanie leave with his sister, Jordana, but his attention went back to Nefe and he ultimately looked frightened.

“Nefe look-“

“Sean give it up. You’ve been cheating on her with Melanie, for months now. After I broke up with her, you slithered in like a cobra.” M’Baku finally spoke up and the group was in shock, all except their friends.

“Mind your fucking business, son. You don’t know shit.” Sean just confirmed he was cheating right then and there. Once M’Baku let Nefe go she looked the group in disgust.

“Nefe-” Sean started again, but got shut down.

“Cállate! I trusted y’all with everything, and you keep this from me!? This big of a secret, and I thought we were friends. We tell each other everything!” The look on her face was distraught. She was distraught and disappointed at the same time, with all of them.

“You all knew and didn’t say shit to me?! How could you?” The utter disgust and dismay caused her whole world to crash down around her.

It was confirmation enough that he really didn’t want her anymore. What caused him to lose interest in her? Shaking her head in defeat, she chuckled dryly. It brought Nattie to tears to see her best friend this much in pain.

“Nefertiti, you know you can’t hit girls like her. She’ll press charges.” Sean explained as he walked away  from her with Melanie, who turned around and made a face at Nefe. Causing her to run and got caught again by M’Baku.

“fuck her! You all don’t get it! You all do not understand how much I hate her.” Her screams of frustration ripped through her, like a shard of glass. All the while shaking her every foundation, as she clawed at the arms that held her, she soon enough stopped and just broke down. Crying on M’Baku’s sturdy chest.

“She gets everything, and I can not get one good thing to happen to, to me at all. Nothing good has happened to me.”

“That’s not true.” M’Baku lifted her chin up a bit to look into her eyes deeply. “You got your friends and me. You’ll be fine.”

A slight sense is relief washed over her in tranquility, causing her whole body to shiver. That’s when she knew for sure that her mom was right. Trying her very best to calm down, she couldn’t. The tears kept falling down her high cheekbones, giving her an angelic glow. Coming to a grand conclusion, she knew what she had to accomplish.

“I suppose you’re right. I just don’t feel like I’m up to par with all of this. It all just happened all at once, and I feel like I need some time to myself.” They all gave her a sympathetic nod, giving her a group hug before she left with Nattie to go home safely.

“It might be your time Baku. It just might be your time.” T’Challa patted his shoulder, earning him a smile and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“It just might be. But for now, I have to plan to get rid of one more obstacle.” Rubbing his scruffy chin in thought, M’Baku saw Erik and T’Challa smile from the corner of his eye.

“We might be able to help with that, bro.” Erik let out a low chuckle, sighing gently as they all headed back to their respective homes.

M’Baku’s POV

As days turn to weeks; seasons change and the months are new. The fall winter weather, brought on the chilly nature that I was accustomed to back home in Jabari Land. Midterms were long gone and finals were approaching, turning everyone into panic mode.

I had a major project due in my African history class, the irony of it all, and I needed some help with it. Okoye and Nakia did their part, I just needed a dancer for the presentation. I knew just who to ask, and it wasn’t going to be an easy task.

Liking someone you’ve known for years can either go two ways; a long time of living in every stage or staying in the friend zone. With what I’m going through right now, let’s just hope it’s the first option.

Hearing swing music playing from the dance room; the tapping of dance shoes and the twirl of ebony colored locks in a frenzy. I knew she was back to her old self again. Leaning against the door frame to watch her dance was like watching a symphony orchestra perform before my very eyes.

“You coming in here to dance, or stand there like a weed in the swamp?” Nefe’s angelic voice broke my concentration, causing my face to heat up in embarrassment. Earning a smile from her was rewarding enough.

“Ah well I’m not much of a dancer, Nefe.”

“That’s too bad. Because I was just about to look for a partner for my music history project. I could ask-”

“Say no more. I’d rather you not kill anyone.”

“That’s what I thought. You got on good shoes, and I suppose I owe you a talk.” Turning on the salsa music track list and letting it play, Nefe pulled her hair up into a bun. Looking even more graceful as ever. Man I got it bad.

“Suppose? Darling you owe the whole tribe a dinner.” The deep baritone voice of mine, entranced her ears as I looked at her reflection in the mirror.

She looked dazed and in a trance that couldn’t be broken. The hold she had on my waist and my left hand, was foreign but felt right at the same time. As if we were meant touch, in a never ending battle that our souls were meant to be together.

“I can see why the ladies love you, M’Baku. You’re a sweet talker.” The way she maneuvered her body around to face me, with the twist of her hips and a spin, send chills up my spine. She was trying to kill me.

“I was raised to treat a woman with respect and not take foolishness from no one. I was mistreated by a she who shall not be named, because she took advantage of my generosity.” Moving to the beat of the music was effortless, when it came to her.

Something about dancing with Nefe felt like it was second nature. Focusing on both our feet to not collide, it was a smooth pivot and a few twists, that had her back against my chest. My hands were placed on her hips in a manor, that would be forbidden in so many ways, but yet it wasn’t in this case. The way she moved them, was sinful.

“She did take advantage of you. It hurt me to see you like that.” She admitted softly, not taking her eyes off of mine.

“Someone else took advantage of my best friend as well. But she was too blinded by “love” to see it.” The soft tone of my voice made her nervous.

“On another more important note; we need to talk about the night we almost-”

“Kissed? Yeah we do how about tonight? Say dinner at Grub Burger Bar, around 6ish?” Batting her eyelashes ever so gently, caused a smile to appear on my face.

“Sounds good to me. See you around, gorgeous.” I placed a sweet kiss on her cheek, as I always do, before heading out the room.

“Oh and uh, you’re helping with my project as well. See you tonight.” I simply added as I waved goodbye.

“You hustled me. I see you Akinjide.”

While sending a wink in her direction, I finally got a laugh out of her. The first laugh in a while, it was all worth it. Tonight was important and I couldn’t wait.

An hour and 45 minutes go by, of boredom, and I can't get Nefertiti off my mind. On my way to my art class, I see the most predictable event ever. From a comfortable distance, it looked as if Sean was trying to smooth his way back into Nefe’s good graces. Yet by the looks of it, I assume he’s done it. Hugging her while getting a feel along her hips and giving me a greedy smirk. He knew I was there. Seeing her walk away pained me once again, along with being filled with rage.

“Looks like I won again. She’s all mine.” He said while walking towards me.

“Sean, I will literally break you if you mistreat her. You can count on it.” The threat didn’t seem to phase him, as he snickers at me.

“Or what? You gonna-” I pinned him against the wall this time, thankful for no one being in the hall. The panicked look on his face was priceless, seeing as though I was at least 6 inches taller than him to begin with. Not to mention bigger.

“It’s a promise this time. Watch yourself.” I gave him a once over, before letting him go, to head towards my next class. So much for being in a good mood.

Nefe’s POV

Never in my wildest dreams would I be so close to killing someone, on sacred ground, in front of my friends. Melanie took me out of my comfort zone, and my father has always told me; ‘don’t let others break you. They don’t know what you’ve been through.’

He’s right. He, along with my mother, were always right. It took me a moment to be center and get back to myself. But tonight was about remembering the good old times from our childhood. It’s a amazing how much time could be brought back by a simple picture. Looking for the right shirt to along with my black jeans, Nattie came by with a curious expression.

“Where you goin’ miss thang? Looking all curvaceous and shit.”

“Out to dinner with a friend. You seen my aquamarine stud earrings?” Slipping on my olive green ankle boots, i took a look through my closet for a sweater

“On the dresser. Dinner with whom, is what I should be asking. Cause a little birdie told me she saw you hugging Sean earlier.” She didn’t miss a beat with the drop of her facts. Upon hearing the sigh that left my lips, she interrupted me.

“Have you not learned a thing about that boy? Cause that’s what he is; a boy. He only thinks with what’s in his pants and I’m tired of you being hurt over this fast ass hoe.”

“Listen, Natasha-” she grabbed a hold of my arms this time.

“No Nefertiti, you don’t need him! He’s not worthy of you and he’s a piece of shit. You deserve someone like M’Baku, please listen to me. To your tribe-” it was my turn to interrupt her.

“I’m not going out to dinner with Sean. I uh, I’m going to dinner with M’Baku. Just as friends”

The look on her face was priceless. Followed by a sequel of excitement and a tight loving hug.

“Oh my god! I’m so proud of you! Where are y’all going? Is he picking you up? What is he gonna wear?” Nattie was more excited than I was, and I was the one going out to dinner. I’m just nervous because this is a first for us both.

As if on cue, my phone was ringing and it was the man in question.

“Hello? Hi M’Baku, you ready for tonight? Oh, uh I’m sorry. No, no it’s ok. I understand, we can always reschedule. I get it, see you tomorrow. Bye.”

I didn't think I’d be crying over a dinner date but this one, this one hurt like getting burned with a 450 degree flat iron. Letting the tears fall down my face, messing up the foundation in the process, I felt defeated. What happened?

“Nefe. Everything ok?” Nattie asked.

“M’Baku cancelled the dinner. Saying he had to study for his presentation. Which I know is a bold face lie, something must’ve happened before had.”

“Well Sandra did say, she saw Sean and him talking before he had to go to class. This was right after seeing you two hug.” Nattie explained while hugging me. It all made sense. M’Baku wouldn’t have done this if Sean didn’t hug me.

“Fucking hell. He must think we got back together. I gotta fix this ASAP, it’s already late as is. I’ll talk to him sometime eventually, I hope.” Rubbing my temple in frustration and agony, I knew all of this had to be fixed.

Can anything in our lives go right?

[pyropsychiccollector]

Head canon for team natsu as servants in fate stay night series

The blond man sat on the couch, staring at the little girl with a mischievous smirk. He was well-toned, his unbuttoned shirt showing off his chiseled chest. A scar was below his right eye.

           “Huh, so you’re my Master… You’re quite the peculiar one.” He snorted in amusement, eyes brimming with curiosity.

           Rin simply stared at him in awe…

           ~*~

           Shinji stared dryly at the blonde.

           “… You’re supposed to be a Rider?”

           The blonde grinned mischievously.

           “Yep! One of the strongest out there!”

           “… Am I supposed to ride you?”

           Blondie burned a bright red.

           “Wh-What’s that supposed to mean?!” She screeched shrilly.

           “… Maybe not.”

           ~*~

           Illya blinked at the man that appeared after the ritual was completed. He looked… kinda underwhelming to be a Berserker…

           What was with that pink hair?

           “Are you really a Berserker, Mister?” The ‘little girl’ couldn’t help voice her skepticism. The pink-head scratched the side of his head before giving a carefree laugh.

           “Guess I am! Only ‘cause I wreck stuff, but yeah, that’s my class~!” The Berserker grinned. Illya narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

           “You’re pretty talkative… and nice…”

           “Do you not want me to be nice?” Berserker tilted his head impishly. Only then did Illya give a beaming smile.

           “… No. You’re perfect just the way you are, Mister Berserker~!”

           “Call me Natsu~!” They shared a laugh together.

           ~*~

           “There’s another Master on-campus… I don’t know what his objective is, but we should take him down, Archer. Remove him from the war.” Rin spoke in an authoritative tone. The blond rolled his shoulder before crossing his arms calmly.

           “You don’t need to tell me twice. I could sniff another Servant skulking around… They’re smart for staying hidden, but if they don’t have enough power to go toe-to-toe with me, they’re gonna just be a mouse… And I’m the cat that gobbles them up.”

           A snort of displeasure made itself known, and Rin and Archer were instantly on their guard.

           “That’s just plain on mean… If you’re a cat, I’ll just skewer ya on my spear.” A fairly toned man, arms crossed, was standing on a roof looking down on the pair of Master and Servant. He had dark spiky hair, and wore a blue skintight body suit, a spear strapped to his back.

           “Lancer class…” Archer muttered as he studied his opponent. “Your Master goes to this school, too?”

           A raised eyebrow was answer enough.

           “That’s really for me to know, and for you to never find out… It was your mistake to bring your Master along with you.” The threat in his tone could not be mistaken for anything else.

           Archer rolled his shoulders one more time before standing between Rin and the new Servant.

           “Not really. Carries risk, yeah, but ideally a Master’s supposed to support with their Magic. Mine’s settled into her role quite nicely.”

           Lancer shrugged nonchalantly.

           “Little girls get hurt when they stick noses where they don’t belong… But I’ll set ya straight.” Lancer uncrossed his arms and one reached up to grip the spear attached to his back. “Might lose a heart or a few vital organs in the process, though…”

           Lightning crackled off of Archer, his face now having a tight scowl and a fierce glare.

           “You’re not going to be able to lay a finger on her once I snap all of yours off…”

           The very air seemed to freeze around them. Rin actually hugged herself, and found a thin layer of frost over her body.

           “Scaaary…” Lancer drawled with a sneer. “You gonna talk all night, or fight?”

           A lightning bolt seared past the side of his head. He looked down at the blond dryly.

           “… Cute.” Lancer deadpanned before leaping into the air and meeting Archer in battle.

           ~*~

           Shiro scrabbled back in a hurry as the redhead appeared so suddenly. The woman looked down at her armored gauntlets before turning her attention back on him.

           “I suppose you are my latest Master…?”

           “M-Master?! What the heck…!?” The boy spluttered. The redhead shook her head, sighing breezily.

           “I am of the Saber class… Only a Master can summon a Servant, and you have the mark on your right hand. So, tell me what it is you want me to do.”

           Shiro sweatdropped nervously.

           “Um… well…?”

           Just then, the door burst open, and the dark-haired Lancer took a step inside menacingly, sneering at Shiro.

           “Got ya, kid…”

           Shiro pointed desperately at the guy.

           “Fight him off! Please?!”

           Saber raised an eyebrow archly at the dark-haired man who dared to threaten her Master in front of her.

           “You’re not very bright are you?”

           Lancer looked between Shiro and Saber, and then noticed the mark that had appeared on his hand.

           “… Well, that just makes killing him more satisfying, I guess…” At the sound of the redhead cracking her knuckles, Lancer shrugged uncaringly. “But if you really wanna fight me in your state, Saber, I won’t mind…”

           Lancer raised an eyebrow when the redhead was forward enough to grab him by his suit and hold him up to her face. He raised an eyebrow dubiously, along with his spear, before she turned right around… and pummeled his face with enough force to smash him through a wall completely.

           ~*~

           “Careful there, Saber… This one’s not like that asshole, Lancer…” Archer warned as they all stood on guard.

           “I know…” Saber narrowed her eyes in determination. That little girl was still sitting on the new Servant’s shoulders, looking for all the world she wasn’t facing down two of her opponents in this war. She looked… just like any little kid you’d find anywhere. But there was a decidedly menacing aura about her.

           “I told you the next time we saw each other, you’d die, Shiro~!” The girl giggled innocently. She hugged the head of the new Servant before he let her down. She looked up at the Servant with such innocent eyes… “Now, remember what we agreed on, Natsu! Don’t make me use a Command Seal~!”

           Natsu seemed to wave her off petulantly, getting a crick out of his neck while he was at it.

           “I got it, I got it~! I’ll kick their asses!” He grinned excitedly, somehow igniting his hands. Saber and Archer could also tell he was building up huge amounts of magic power as well…

           “What class are you, Servant?” Saber demanded, finally unable to take it anymore.

           “Berserker~…” Natsu tilted his head in a ‘no duh’ motion. But this only served to make goosebumps travel up Saber’s back.

           “B-B-Berserker…!?”

           Archer sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

           “I wondered what kind of guy took down Rider… That Shinji kid’s in pretty rough condition at the hospital, no thanks to you.”

           Natsu just rolled his eyes.

           “Well, that’s the compromise we reached, duh.” He temporarily turned off the flames for one hand and high-fived a beaming Illya. “I don’t kill, but in return, I defeat all other Servants and beat up any humans Illya-chan wants crushed!”

           Rin paled as she remembered Shinji’s extensive injuries.

           “So when you say ‘Shiro will die’…” The dark-haired girl trailed off meaningfully.

           “I’ll just make ya wish you were all dead!” Natsu grinned proudly pounding his chest with his flaming fist.

           “M-Me, too?!” Rin screeched. Illya just giggled at her antics.

           “Well, of course! I don’t like you either!” Illya then dropped her smile and gave an adorable grumpy pouty face.

           Rin twitched. Archer scoffed derisively.

           “I don’t see what makes you a big, scary Berserk…!” With one devastating punch that made an explosion and destroyed a good section of trees, Archer went flying. Natsu lowered his arm, still burning, and grinned like a lunatic.

           “… And there’s the ‘berserk’ part of you.” Saber tsk’ed in displeasure. Natsu just stared at her, deadpan.

           “You doubted my power?!” Natsu stuck out his tongue childishly. Saber rolled her eyes and summoned a sword for each hand.

           “No, I just pondered how badly I would have to kick your ass before I made you regret every single crime you ever committed… I suppose I have my answer.”

           Natsu seemed to grow livid at that.

           “OI! We only took what we wanted from the ice cream parlor and candy store that ONE time! … Well, maybe two times… Three?” He looked to Illya for help, who only shrugged, unknowing the answer. Natsu sweatdropped before turning back to Saber fiercely. “POINT IS! We only did little stuff ‘cause Illya-chan was hungry!”

           “And because I didn’t like the mean cashier people~!” Illya supplied helpfully, with Natsu nodding fervently. By now, Saber’s eyes were overshadowed by the bangs over her forehead.

           “So you were the monsters that wrecked that cake shop…! UNFORGIVABLE!”

           Natsu cocked his head as he tried to remember any cake shops they might’ve hit… But Illya put his foot in his mouth for him.

           “That strawberry cheesecake was yummy!” Illya rubbed her tummy, beaming happily. Natsu opened his mouth to say he didn’t remember, but then Saber charged him, and his Berserker instincts kicked into gear…

             ~*~

           “Ufufu… It really is unfortunate Saber sunk her swords into Berserker first. I sooo wanted to use him as my adorable little soldier~!” Caster cooed. She had dark, long hair, and was observing the end of the fight through some crystal ball.

           “I’m not enough for your ‘unstoppable’ plans?” A maroon-haired Servant deadpanned, petting his snake while glaring at Caster in annoyance.

           “Natsu-kun is more adorable than you, Erik.” Caster told him dryly. “AND he’s a superior powerhouse…”

           “Call me Assassin, damnit…”

[lextalioniss]

Erik let out a laugh - unfettered, easy -  the sort that existed outside the constraints of resentment or contemplation. It was as if her subtle uncertainty had glanced off him, and he continued on without breaking stride. For once, it did not feel like labour - this sort of pretence - instead he found the comfortable familiarity comforting. Could it be considered pretence - he thought - or was it just good compartmentalising? “You make it sound like I’m a feral stray.” His patterns familiar, well-trodden, the outcomes predictable. He prowled these streets like a wounded hound. It wasn’t an unfair comparison. “Well yes, but how is a man supposed to embody the Byronic hero with all this…” he waved his hand vaguely in the general direction of the building, “...flat brownness.” He was not serious, not really, though there was an element of self-awareness in it, tucked into the corners of his lips, a small, private smirk. He sighed, flicking the cigarette away, squinting against the sun as he took out a pocket watch to look at the time. “No matter, I’ll just make sure trouble finds me in a more fashionable part of the city next time.”

He clicked the watch shut, running his thumb against the delicate engravings on its lid - once, twice - as if it were a ritual, and saw Robinson shift to stand in front of him, a tightness to her posture. His head was still lowered as his gaze went up, observing her under his lashes for a moment, like an animal caught doing something it knew it shouldn’t. Regretful only because it had gotten caught. “All that worry Robinson, it’s not good for the heart,” he chided in that same soft, languid drawl his mother employed for when Gladys was being particularly high-strung. It never worked, and he didn’t expect it to work now either, but he knew she’d find the words familiar, maybe annoying even. A slow, nonchalant smirk appeared as he pocketed the watch into the waistcoat. “I’m joking. It’s a line. Please don’t make me dissect it, that makes it lose its charm.” Though it was a lazy mistake - he should’ve known better than to give her something to latch on to right in the middle of his question. “What is actually concerning is that you still take my shit seriously. Concussions pass, all this worry sounds chronic.” 

He was looking down at her, blocking his path, amusement on his face. “Avoidance, avoidance.”, he tutted, a playful, sing-song harmony to his words, before slipping past her. “You could’ve just lied, Robinson. Or tell me to fuck off, which would be fair considering I’m ruining your Saturday. All that act of concern just to avoid a question says a lot.” Not that the specifics really mattered, Erik just found her reluctance and her diligent avoidance curious, delighted by the chance to taunt her. He stopped, spinning around to face her, a hand placed across his heart as if he’d been startled, entirely overdramatised. “You know what had just occurred to me? – I didn’t tell you it had to be you to come get me. Not even my arrogance is vast enough for that.” He raised an eyebrow, amused and unrelenting like a dog with a bone. “I just said competent. Is that it? I am interrupting something - but you came. How sweet. My arrogance is flattered.”

But perhaps he shouldn’t have been so intentionally glib and irritating. He’d made the jokes because he’d assumed no higher purpose to her coming down to the station personally, but now the office was being mentioned and Erik couldn’t help the defeated chuckle that left his lips. “I walked right into that, didn’t I? Bureaucracy.” He’d made the distinction intentionally, as if between the lines one could see the subtext - I’ve been avoiding you because I hate documents, not you. But that wasn’t entirely true either, Erik was just good at handling half-truths. He couldn’t back down now. Play along - unconcerned, lighthearted. “Did I? I thought you burned that, or made a voodoo doll to torture.” The easy way words left his lips and the loose set of his shoulders as he stood in front of her with hands in his pockets was at odds with the measured slowness of her words. Erik pretended not to notice. It’s fine. See? I even joked about it. Let it go. 

He laughed, “No questions? I should hope there would be some at least - Are you nauseous? Do you have double vision? Can you follow my finger? - See? I can practically do it on my own by now.” And he knew all the correct answers. This was particularly useful when one wanted to be left in peace. There was a pause in her words then, as if she might have expected him to object. Erik didn’t want to dwell on the implications of it too much (Should he have objected? Why was this such a big deal?) and so instead he leaned down slightly, voice conspiratorial. “I’m not sure you’re asking the right person. I’m the bloodied one with the split lip. Are you sure that’s not an issue?” This was easy, uncomplicated. But he should’ve known this was leading up to something he couldn’t just twist into a jovial, careless thing. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if defeated, and straightened up with a sigh. “I suppose there’s no point in telling you that I never required those answers when I asked the questions?” When he opened his eyes they were trained on her. He worked his jaw for a moment. “Well since you asked so nicely Robinson, I’ll be amenable today. If you would just relax for two seconds - I’m afraid people will think I have a gun pointed at you.”

The call had come as a surprise, an early morning call from her office to let her know of Ashford’s new whereabouts at the NOPD. For a moment, she hesitates, looking down at her painstakingly chosen outfit and thinking back at the invitation to a Saturday brunch with a dashing businessman. She thinks of the invitation almost longingly, knowing that despite the distance between meetings, she remains as foolish as ever regarding the unacknowledged emotion she holds regarding the consigliere, but even then, she is aware that she has already made the decision. Erik had asked her not to send someone else, not even when they are in conflict and —  Well, now they are not not in conflict. Their conversation the balcony hangs between them, and despite her desire for things to go back to how they were before, she cannot allow for his questions to remain unaddressed.

Even if she is missing quite the brunch for him, even if she knows her reasons have to do with the desire to mend bridges and close the gap that she has recently realized has always existed.

The procedure goes smoothly, wheels of the political machine greased due to her connections and her words, and soon she is exiting the building, wondering if Erik had chosen to remain or had left her behind due to the unacknowledged tension between the two.

She almost sighs in relief, as she sees him as she exits the station, a weight she didn’t know she held lifting from her shoulders. This is a beginning. A beginning, and hopefully not an end. God, she hopes it’s not an end. She had jumped far too quickly into the current situation and now she is not sure she will be able to bear it if it’s an ending.

“Isn’t the 4th a bit too far from your usual routes?” She inquires, words slipping her lips before she realizes it, falling back into comfortable patterns despite her mixed desire to move beyond those. Minerva pauses midstep at his words, however, head tilting and eyes narrowing as she absorbs the information even as her brows begin to raise in incredulity. She makes the executive decision to sidestep the inquiry in order to focus on the more important side of the conversation. “Concussion?” The word is repeated slowly as she moves to stand in front of him, hands finding their way to her hips as she looks at him with a concerned gaze. “Ashford, your blood might be all inside your body at the moment, but a concussion is equally concerning.”

She snorts regarding his died comment despite herself, fondness settling on her chest despite her desire to fortify herself against it.

“I offer a counterproposal. You left a change of clothes on my office a while back, and we need to review some documents regarding your new position sooner rather than later,” she says voice slow and measured. “I also happen to have a doctor that does not ask questions on call, to check on that concussion of yours. On top of that, your Gladys diet will remain unblemished. It does, however, mean that we will be walking on the same direction if that is an issue,” she pauses, considering her words before speaking again, albeit more hesitatingly this time. “And I believe I am more than capable of giving you answers —  If you are amenable, of course.”

[orderoftheavengers]

Courage and Cunning 

Summary: Thor and Loki are both a credit and embarrassment to their Houses. 

Thor Odinson 

House: Gryffindor 

Species: Asgardian 

Blood Status: Pureblood 

Wand: Ygrassil wood, 14 inches, Bilgensnipe heart string 

Broom:  Mjolnir, forged by dwarf blacksmiths 

Specialty: Lightning spell 

Patronus: Bilgensnipe

Familiar: Heimdall, loyal family owl (unique Asgardian species) 

Loki Odinson: 

House: Slytherin 

Species: Frost Giant 

Blood Status: ? 

Wand: Ygrassil wood, 10 inches, unicorn tail hair (snapped in half when expelled; pieces integrated into his broom-scepter) 

Broom:  Custom sceptor/sword/broom combination, now also his wand (containing its pieces) 

Specialty: Transfiguration and the Imperius Curse 

Patronus: Serpent 

Familiar: Formerly Heimdall, loyal family owl; these days, who or what ever he can manage to get under the Imperius Curse 

Jane Foster: 

House: Honorary Ravenclaw 

Blood Status: Muggle/No-maj

Specialty: Science! 

Familiar: Darcy Lewis (You all saw that coming) 

Asgard:

FACT: The beings that Muggles know as the Norse "gods" are actually a race of incredibly powerful magic humanoids, with evolutionary links to elves, veela and giants, who live in Asgard, a magically concealed region in the mountains of Scandanavia. (Source: my ass.) They live high in the mountains of Scandanavia, and would've remained there had fate not willed otherwise.

Enrollment and Sorting:

King Odin observed that his two sons were ignorant of the world outside Asgard, and decided that at age 1,704 and 988, Thor and Loki should begin to learn about the outside world, especially if Thor was to someday rule Asgard. The boys where both sorted by a Screaming Sorting Hat before it even made physical contact, as the two fought violently to be the first to sit on the Sorting Stool. Thor bellowed that it was his birthright to be sorted first, as he threw Loki acrosss the Great Hall and through a glass winow. But just as Thor was crowning himself with the Sorting Hat, Loki apparated beside the stool in snake form and slighetered up onto his brother's head, curling up into a Sorting Hat shaped cone. The hat spit out Loki--still in snake form--sending him fluttering over to the Slytherin table where he landed in a pumpkin pie and his fellow Slytherins began the ritual hazing. The Hat then then hollared at Thor, "And he's Gryffindor's problem now!" sending him off with a smack-bottom.

The brothers enforced their Houses' stereotypes to the max, much to the chagrin of their classmates. Thor's fellow Gryffindors quickly grew tired of him interrupting every teacher's lecture to loudly declare his intent to conquer the next challenge, as well as his tendency to smash potions bottles to the floor when it was time for "Another!" While Loki's fellow Slytetherins admired his snake-shifting powers, it didn't prevent them from mercilessly bullying him for his wardrobe, pretty hair, and outdated conversational skills about being "burdened with glorious purpose," and the little trickster frequently found himself stuck head-first in cauldrons, giant pumpkins, and Moaning Myrtle's toilet.

Thor's expulsion, and meeting Jane Foster:

Thor was not a week into his first semester when he managed to get himself expelled, for organizing a violent Quidditch duel with the visiting Durmstrang students that almost led to the next wizarding war. Deciding a mere expulsion was not enough, King Odin gravely declared that he was banishing Thor to a desolate land, until he proved learned his lesson.

"Until you prove yourself worthy, you will spend the rest of your days in the company of brutish, violent cavemen like yourself."

Thor stammered, "You're sending me to live amongst trolls?"

"No. Americans."

Thor's agonized scream was drowned out by the sound of his father's thunder magically teleporting him overseas.

By a stroke of irony, Thor landed right next to a research facility of Muggles, working to prove that magic exists. Not surprisingly, the Ministry of Magic did their damndest to ensure all of Jane Foster’s research was destroyed and covered up, but she wouldn’t have it. After Loki tried to take over Hogwarts and was defeated by Thor, Thor was welcomed back to the school and renamed his father’s heir to the giant throne, while Loki was now the one expelled.

Thor’s custom wand and broom are both contstructed from branches of Ygdrassil. His wand contains the heartstring of a Bilgesnipe (a horned magical creature native to the mountains of Asgard). Thor's lightning spell is his specialty, and his Patronus is, predictably, a Bilgesnipe.

Jane, Darcy and Erik:

It's usually routine to memory-wipe Muggles who witness magic. But there have always been exceptions. Leaders of the world's nations (like the Prime Minister of England); muggles married to wizards; and muggles who wizards just really like, such as Newt Scamander's friend Jacob Kowalski. The Ministry of Magic decided that these three particular Muggles--or No-Majes, as they were known in the States--could keep their memories. (In this age, who would believe them anyway?) The trio was even hired by the Ministry's Deparment of Muggle Relations. They often visited Hogwarts, and the Sorting Hat dubbed all three Honorary Ravenclaws.

Loki:

At age nine-hundred-and-something, during his first year at Hogwarts, Loki learned that he was not in fact Asgardian, but an adopted Frost Giant. Already an especially powerful Metamorphmagus, Loki had no trouble disguising as whatever and whomever he wished, with his shape-shifting powers making Natasha Romanoff (another metamorphmagus) look like an amateur.

After Loki was expelled, his wand (Ygdrasill wood, unicorn tail hair) was obviously snapped in half. However, he salvaged the contents of his wand, and placed them in the broom/scepter/sword that his mother made him for his birthday. Now very fond of the Imperius Curse, Loki sought to make all of Earth—Wizards, Muggles, Giants, and other creatures alike—his bitches. His first victims were the Muggle Dr. Erik Selvig, and Hufflepuff Clint Barton. Loki was outraged when an arrogant mortal--albiet a Slytherin with good looks--had the gall to threaten Loki in Parseltongue. When he failed to work the Imperius Curse on Tony Stark, Loki's frustration increased, and when Tony commented about "performance issues," Loki sent him off the North Tower after some intimate goatee-groping. Nevertheless, Loki eventually mellowed out over time, and was even permitted back at Hogwarts, where he continued to be a pain in everyone's backside. His specialties are shape-shifting--which rarely requires more than minor spells if that, due to being a Metamorphmagus--and the Imperius Curse. He is not overly fond of thunder, Tony Stark, green werewolves, Tony Stark, his adoptive father, Tony Stark, falling, or rival caped sorcerers whose goatees remind him of Tony Stark.

Heimdall:

The royal Asgardian family's loyal owl, Heimdall acts as a guardian and messenger for Thor and Loki. He will have none of your shit, and any mortals attempting to pluck one of his shimmering red or gold feathers always goes home with fewer ears and noses than they originally had. Sadly, when the Infinity War begins, he ends up becoming the next Headwig. (Shut up about spoilers; the movie's been out for a month and the book's been out like a decade.)

Waning Stereotypes

For a pair that began school as walking stereotypes of Gryffindor and Slytherin, both Thor and Loki mellowed out significantly by their final year. 

As Thor’s understanding of heroism and chivalry matured, he soon surpassed Captain America in humility and compassion (though, admittedly, that is not always saying much). While Steve Rogers treated a traumatized Tony Stark like a naughty younger sibling in need of patronizing cliches, Thor was talking down the god-f*cking-damned Hulk with genuine, imperfect words of friendship. Thor, the master of narrating his own life like an epic poem, shelved his cliches when things got serious, and told the green werewolf exactly what he needed to hear, when he needed to hear it. 

Loki meanwhile exponentially lost his ambition, until he was only aiming to rule Asgard, rather than the whole planet. (Remember, Asgard isn’t its own planet in this AU.) His ego shrank from a martyr complex to a generic diva, content to sit in a throne and watch plays about himself. Sadly, even his cunning became lackluster, leading to his death at the hands of Thanos............maybe. 

Thor--now having lost his entire family--remained Gryffindor strong. Teaming up with a large mandrake with a limited vocabulary, and a niffler/raccoon hybrid who gave him a new magical eyeball (to replace the one his sister Hela had taken out), Thor demonstrated his courage and durability by obtaining a magic through a long, painful ordeal that could have killed him (but only if he died). 

Sadly, he was no Ravenclaw, and didn’t aim for the head. That’s twice a Gryffindor screwed up a so-close defeat of Thanos... (Star Lord is a Gryffindor as well, and no, not just because he has a red jacket. More on him elsewhere.) 

Endgame

After the Dusting Curse,  Thor is arguably in the worst position. His entire family has died one by one, plus the wise family owl Heimdall, and the mountain region of Asgard has been destroyed, along with three forths of the Asgardian population (first half were slaughtered by Thanos’s army, and then half of the surviving half were Dusted). Since Hogsmede now has some extra space, the surviving Asgardians are able to get a new neighborhood there. Thor spends most of his time in his apartment above the Three Broomsticks, playing Muggle video games with his friends, and spiraling into alcoholism and overeating.

During the Time Heist, Thor and Rocket travel to Asgard’s past, to get the Reality Stone. Thor reunites with his mother, and sees he’s still worthy of his hammer/broom, which he brings back with him to the present. Before he leaves, Queen Frigga tells him, “It’s time to start being who you are, rather than who you’re ‘supposed’ to be.” “Are you telling me to step down from my throne?” “…step down? After your first five years were less than ideal? You’re barely 1500 years old, my son. What I’m saying is, you could  take a bit of time off to find yourself. A decade or two of vacation, having adventures with your rabbit friend, maybe. And you can even stay fat for a few centuries if you want. But why in the world would I be suggesting that you should throw away all you’ve fought for, just because of how things turned out over the last half-decade?” “I’m sorry Mother…living with Midgardians must’ve gone to my head. Though, I always was rather impulsive anyway.”  

After Thanos’s defeat,  Thor plans to find a proper new home for his people. Joining the Guardians of the Realm, he is on the lookout for any unclaimed mountain range or forest that can be called New Asgard. In the meantime, he has left Valkyrie in his stead, back at their burrow in Hogsmede.

Loki is still playing “dead,” but no one is buying it anymore. And Thor is now 99% positive that his trolling brother is Noobmaster69.

Jane, Darcy and Erik are now openly working with both Muggle and Wizard scientists, now that the magical world has been exposed, and Muggles must learn to coexist with it.  

For the moment, Thor is still fat, and he still has fangirls. 

Notes: These two were a pain to draw, but worth it. The Asgardian backstory was a bit tricky, as I could find no adequate equivalent in the Potterverse. By far Thor and Loki are the most fun to write parody wizard versions of. But oddly enough, my favorite to create the backstory for was actually Jane. I may do a separate entry for her, Darcy and Erik. 

UPDATE: I had Loki's species wrong, incorrectly citing him as a Dark Elf. Special thanks to Misaki, who pointed this error out to me in Archive Of Our Own. Apologies and thanks!

[wishingforatypewriter]

any chance on a small oneshot of any soma and erina being parents?

Notes: I’ve been meaning to get to this prompt for a while now! Here you go, anon! 

After studying the careers of culinary trailblazers like the Nakiri cousins and Arato Hisako, one might be tempted to ask how any of them had time to even think of raising children.

The answer, of course, was teamwork. You see, when Souma had to jet off to Paris and Erina to Vienna, they could always count on Alice to look after their son in Denmark. Likewise, when Alice and Ryo felt the sudden urge to go skiing and beer tasting up in the alps, their kid always had a second home at Akira and Hisako’s London flat.

It was a convenient system, one that allowed them to keep their fast-paced lives without constantly passing their kids off to strangers, but it wasn’t without its drawbacks. For example, now, by some fluke of the child-rearing cooperative, Souma and Erina were going to have three four-year-olds for the next ten days.

They would object to the age grouping, she knew. There was a hierarchy. Erik was nearly five, Akane soundly four and a half. Even Raiden, whose birthday was just last month, would try to argue that he was still somehow more than just four.

Erina shook her head at the thought. Toddler logic exhausted her to no end.

“We can do this, right?” she asked her husband, glancing lazily at the spreadsheet in front of her.

“Of course,” Souma said, lacing up his winter boots. In a few minutes he was going to get Erik from the airport. “Our kid’s the bad one, remember?”

“Don’t I know it,” Erina said with a small laugh. Usually Akane was a little angel, and Erik was too lazy to try anything, but her son never failed to draw them both into some kind of mischief. “He gets that shit from you.”

Souma shot her a sidelong glance. “Keep telling yourself that, Erina.”

She met his gaze, eyebrows fractionally raised. “You can’t be suggesting that it’s me.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t have time to be bad as a kid. I had chores.”

She rolled her eyes. “I bet you still managed.”

It was uncanny, really, how after playing or watching TV or whatever he was doing for the past few hours, Raiden miraculously emerged from his room as soon as Hisako dropped Akane off.

Erina barely had enough time to get her goddaughter out of her tiny peacoat and boots before Raiden pulled her to the other side of the room, unfolding a piece of blue construction paper and whispering something to her. Suspicious.

Erina turned the Netflix original she had been watching down to catch wind of anything illegal or dangerous. The conversation seemed to go as follows:

whisperwhisperwhisper

“No way!”

“Shh!”

whisperwhisperwhisperwhisper

“Is it safe?”

“I think so.”

whisperwhisperwhisperwhisperwhisper

“Should we wait for Erik?”

“Nah.”

Then, simultaneously, they turned to look at her.

“Ma, we’re gonna go play upstairs.”

“Bye, auntie!”

Then they were off.

Something in Erina melted as she watched them scamper up the duplex’s winding staircase. “Don’t do anything too-” The door closed with a resounding clap “…crazy.”

Erina sat halfway up the stairs for a few minutes, waiting for some telltale crash or scream, but all she heard was some early 00s cartoon playing in her son’s bedroom. With a relieved sigh, she decided to let them be and went to answer a few emails in her home office.

About a half hour later, when she ventured back to Raiden’s room to see what the kids wanted for lunch, Erina found that both of them were gone. She took a deep breath, trying to quell the anxiety rising within her.

They were probably playing hide and seek, right? They did that all the time. Calmly, but as quickly as she possibly could, Erina checked in all the closets and under all the beds in the apartment. Finding them nowhere, she tried the smarter hiding spaces—behind the shower curtains, in the cabinets, at the bottom of the hamper.

As the minutes ticked by, she started checking the taboo spots—the ovens, the edge of the balcony, the washing machine, even though she told him a million and six times not to play in there. 

She felt herself breathing faster and faster, trying her best not to panic. Where could those two have possibly gone? Should she call Souma? Hisako? The police? The national guard?

It was only when she found herself staring down into the vast blackness of the confectioner’s oven, tears pricking at her eyes, that her son called out to her.

“Hey ma, what are you looking for?”

Erina blinked once. Twice. The voice sounded like it had come from above her. Strange, indeed. Wearily, she turned her gaze to the air vent, and there he was. He even had the audacity to wave at her.

“Wha…how the hell did you even…” She heaved a great sigh. From what she could tell he was utterly covered in dust, but fine.

“Look, ma. We found a tunnel that leads from my bathroom all the way to here. Isn’t that cool?”

Erina shook her head. “Just come down from there, okay?”

“You mean now?”

“I mean five minutes ago,” she said, a hint of a growl finding its way into her voice.

“Got it! About face, Hayama,” he said to the pink haired girl who was always right behind him.

“Roger,” she heard Akane reply.  

Erina made her way back upstairs to make sure they didn’t fall on their way down. Once she had them both safe and reasonably clean again, she sat them down on the couch.

“Do you know why what you just did is dangerous?”

They both shook their heads, and Erina smiled a little despite herself. Of course they didn’t; the stunts in about a million and six Hollywood films suggested otherwise.

“The vent might look like a tunnel, but it’s not. The only thing it’s designed to carry is air. Because the two of you are both heavier than air”—though not by much, she thought— “it could collapse under your weight and you can fall and get seriously hurt. Understand?”

They both nodded emphatically, and Erina almost laughed at Akane’s bright pink ponytail bobbing behind her.

“Good. Now, never do something like that again,” she said, her voice stern. “You hear me?”

“Okay, ma.”

“Yes, auntie.”

“You guys in trouble already?” Souma asked as he came through the front door, pale-haired second-cousin-in-law nephew and duffel bag in tow.

“Not really,” Erina said. They seemed repentant enough. “Now what do you kids want for lunch?”

The three of them shared a long look, amethyst eyes to jade, jade to garnet. Then the children responded with one voice, “Shokugeki.”

In the great December grilled cheese battle, Erina was defeated by her husband 3-0. It was the first time in her life that she’d ever lost by such a large margin. Even when he took the first seat from her back in high school, he only beat her by a single vote.

Her decisive victory during the katsudon dinner card did nothing to help her wounded pride. How had the god tongue failed?

“I think you went a little overboard with the truffle oil,” he said as they lied in bed that night, both of them utterly exhausted. “They’re still just babies.”

“Foodie babies!” she fired back. All three of them had more advanced palates than the average thirty-year-old. “But I think you’re right,” she sighed. Erina shrugged out of her robe, pinning him under her signature I-want-a-fucking-massage gaze.

“C’mon Nakiri, I’m tired.”

“If you don’t I’m going to be grumpy in the morning.”

Souma opened his mouth, about to say something slick, but then he sighed and gave in to her wishes. 

A few minutes later, as she found herself on the cusp of dreaming, a sharp rumbling that sounded suspiciously like a blender began downstairs, followed shortly by a splat, a flurry of muffled giggles, and an elongated shhhhhhhhh.

She groaned, put her robe back on.

Souma laughed a bit, shaking his head. “Nine more days.”

“We can do this, right?” she asked again.

He smirked at her, leaving a brief kiss on her lips. “You know it.”

Author’s Notes: This has been the official debut of the terrible three lol. 

[placetobenation]

Somewhere on the Road to WrestleMania, the WWE has lost its mind and creative wisdom!

Yup, I said it.

In a time where audience is eroding and stocks are on the wrong side of the ledger, the WWE has turned its collective championship eyes at Goldberg. Yes, 53-year old Bill Goldberg. Again.  For the second time in three years, Goldberg has taken out a younger star in mere minutes. In March of 2017 at Fastlane, it was Kevin Owens and now it’s The Fiend/Bray Wyatt.

I hate it!

The Fiend, over the past 8 months, is one of Smackdown’s most entertaining superstars. And with 2:00 of work in Saudi Arabia at Super Showdown Thursday, it was all thrown away.

Now, I get that Vince McMahon wants another superstar to highlight WrestleMania and a possible PPV deal before April’s big event, but this is not the way to do it. You shouldn’t have to tear down and discard one of your top draws just to give Goldberg a title he doesn’t deserve. Even if it is a transitional champion to get to Roman Reigns.

And to boot, at Super Showdown, we get The Undertaker coming back to lay waste to AJ Styles and Brock Lesnar obliterates Ricochet in less than two minutes. Add in John Cena’s return on Smackdown Friday night and we’ve got WrestleMania turned into a night of the elder statesmen.

I’m not saying that you can’t use the veterans and former stars, but don’t do it at the expense of the younger talent. Get them over. Make them over with personality and creative booking. Make it special and make it realistic. Make me want to be invested instead of trying to get the cheap, quick pop!

Right now, they are treating WrestleMania as a throwaway event and not something that I MUST see! It’s supposed to be THE biggest day of the year and now it’s just thrown in with Super Showdown and Elimination Chamber as another event over the month.

Count me as one who does NOT want to see Goldberg vs. Roman Reigns, John Cena vs. The Fiend/Bray Wyatt and The Undertaker vs. AJ Styles. Those matches are not MUST SEE for me.  Now, if it was Cena going for a Championship, he is 16-time World Champion after all, that’s something else. But, we can’t have that now that Goldberg beat The Fiend.

Remember, we already got Cena vs. Wyatt at WrestleMania 30.

Unfortunately, it looks like the lazy, predictable approach has even gotten to NXT, usually a standout week in, week out. Charlotte Flair vs. Bianca Belair should’ve been a standout match, but lacked the high quality, emotion and intensity.

On RAW, how many times did we need to see Becky Lynch vs. Shayna Baszler recapped?

Now, enough for the rant!

There were some positives on SmackDown. The tag team title match in the Elimination Chamber between John Morrison & The Miz vs. The Usos vs. The New Day could be epic! Sasha Banks’ return, despite the loss, is a good thing. A better show than in recent weeks and the best of the week for the WWE.

Super Showdown Results

The OC (Karl Anderson & Luke Gallows) defeated The Viking Raiders (Erik & Ivar)

The Undertaker won the Tuwaiq Mountain Trophy Gauntlet Match over R-Truth, Bobby Lashley, Rey Mysterio Jr. and AJ Styles

Smackdown Tag Team Championship Match: The Miz and John Morrison defeated The New Day to win titles

Angel Garza defeated Humberto Carrillo

RAW Tag Team Championship Match: Seth Rollins & Buddy Murphy defeated The Street Profits (Montez Ford & Angelo Dawkins) to retain titles

Mansoor defeated Dolph Ziggler

WWE Championship Match: Brock Lesnar defeated Ricochet to retain title

Steel Cage Match: Roman Reigns defeated King Corbin

Smackdown Women’s Championship Match: Bayley defeated Naomi

Universal Championship Match: Goldberg defeated The Fiend/Bray Wyatt to win title

And NEWWWWWWWWW @WWE Universal Champion! @Goldberg is now a 2-time Champion, and the first WWE Hall of Famer to win after being inducted. #WWESSSD pic.twitter.com/gcYLS4aCr1

— WWE on FOX (@WWEonFOX) February 27, 2020

Star of the Week:

Goldberg – I may not like it, but capturing the second biggest title in the company deserves a top spot, right?! I just wish he would’ve earned it.

RAW

RESULTS

Angel Garza defeated Humberto Carrillo

Ricochet defeated Luke Gallows

Aleister Black defeated Erick Rowan

Bobby Lashley defeated R-Truth

Angelo Dawkins defeated Buddy Murphy (DQ)

Seth Rollins defeated Montez Ford

Randy Orton defeated Kevin Owens

What we loved:

.@FightOwensFight demanded ANSWERS from @RandyOrton on #RAW! pic.twitter.com/xBjNh4KqHQ

— WWE (@WWE) February 26, 2020

Stand up KO – It was nice to see Kevin Owens be the next guy to take on Randy Orton for his attack on Edge. After all, how many times can we see Owens get punked by Seth Rollins and his Monday Night Minions (Buddy Murphy and the Authors of Pain)? Well, one more time I guess to help Randy Orton get a win. But at least it was a fun twist for a night.

It was a backstage blowup between @WWEAleister & #TheOC on #RAW! pic.twitter.com/bohbvzk09f

— WWE (@WWE) February 26, 2020

Aleister Black vs. AJ Styles – Sign me up for this one! But, something tells me we won’t get it as advertised now that Styles is looking for revenge against The Undertaker. Now, if you want to put The Undertaker with Aleister Black to fight The OC, I’m down with that.

Meh:

Garza vs. Carrillo – twice in four days was not exactly their best effort.

Huh:

The Women's #WWEChamber Contract Signing quickly turned into a BRAWL between @QoSBaszler & @BeckyLynchWWE!#RAW pic.twitter.com/As5dWbx2XG

— WWE (@WWE) February 26, 2020

So, no one comes out to save Edge or Matt Hardy against Randy Orton, but the entire locker room clears out to take care of the Elimination Chamber contract signing with Becky Lynch, Shayna Baszler, Asuka, Natalya, Liv Morgan, Sarah Logan and Ruby Riott. That’s just so illogical on so many levels my friends!

NXT

RESULTS

Cameron Grimes defeated Dominik Dijakovic

Xia Li defeated Mia Yim

Tommaso Ciampa defeated Austin Theory

Killian Dain defeated Bronson Reed

The Grizzled Young Veterans (Zack Gibson & James Drake) defeated The Forgotten Sons (Wesley Blake & Steve Cutler)

Charlotte Flair defeated Bianca Belair

.@MsCharlotteWWE has @BiancaBelairWWE right where she wants her! #WWENXT pic.twitter.com/yGXG9NkWcy

— WWE NXT (@WWENXT) February 27, 2020

Don’t get me wrong, the effort in the ring was there. Just overall, this latest episode of NXT just didn’t do it for me. I expected a can’t miss event from Flair and Belair and it just didn’t happen. Maybe they just had an off night chemistry-wise, but I just expected more. Otherwise, it was just a bunch of matches with a couple of run-ins thrown in for some intrigue.

“The #NXTUK Champion @WalterAUT would like to send you his regards…”#Imperium deliver a personal message to the PRIN

E @FinnBalor! #WWENXT pic.twitter.com/BPJpb66Zgw

— WWE (@WWE) February 27, 2020

Finn Balor vs. Imperium has some interest, but why did we blow off the Gargano feud so quickly after one match? That seemed odd. Gargano, predictably, went after former friend and foe Ciampa after the NXT TakeOver: Portland screwjob. Ending Balor vs. Gargano and Ciampa vs. Cole seems like a blowoff and not a deserving finish.

Hopefully, just an off week for the folks from Full Sail. Their product isn’t failing at the moment, they are just getting outperformed on many levels by their counterparts on All Elite Wrestling, who are showing more of a flair for the dramatic in front of a bigger crowd week-in and week-out.  Plus, it just seems like they are having more fun. That’s a lesson all of the WWE could learn.

SMACKDOWN

RESULTS

Non-title Smackdown Women’s Championship Match: Naomi defeated Bayley (DQ)

Lacey Evans &  Naomi defeated Bayley & Sasha Banks

Robert Roode defeated Kofi Kingston

Daniel Bryan defeated Curtis Axel

Non-title Smackdown Tag Team Title Match: The Usos defeated John Morrison & The Miz

What we loved:

Tag team love in the chamber – New tag team champs – John Morrison and The Miz get a monster of a first title defense. They have to face The Usos and the former champs, The New Day along with Dolph Ziggler & Robert Roode, Heavy Machinery, and Lucha House Party in the Elimination Chamber in Philadelphia next Sunday. That could be epic my friends! Nice win by The Usos getting instant heat on the new champs with the upset victory Friday night. Not a good luck for the new champs though after gaining the belts on Thursday.

It's official! @WWERomanReigns will battle @Goldberg for the WWE Universal Championship at @WrestleMania. #SmackDown pic.twitter.com/Gj17p5Znmo

— WWE on FOX (@WWEonFOX) February 29, 2020

Boo boo Bill – LOVED. LOVED. LOVED the fans in Boston (my people!) booing the (bleep) out of new Universal Champion Bill Goldberg. The only thing shorter than Goldberg’s match at Super Showdown was the one line back and forth between Roman Reigns and Goldberg. We all know where this is going folks. What Vince wants, Vince gets. Whether we the fans want it or not.

'The Fiend' @WWEBrayWyatt never forgets…#SmackDown pic.twitter.com/1heu7CAedE

— WWE on FOX (@WWEonFOX) February 29, 2020

You knew it was coming:

Cena vs. The Fiend – You just knew John Cena’s announcement that he wouldn’t be part of this year’s WrestleMania wasn’t going to stand. It lasted all of about 30 seconds. So, now we get Cena/Wyatt II in Tampa. Playing the hits for the big show is all this is.

Huh?

Daniel Bryan – I look at Daniel Bryan’s matches the last few weeks after losing to The Fiend and I think he’s wrestling on the old All-Star Wrestling. He’s showcasing his wares in matches he’s clearly the favorite in against guys that have no chance against him while Bryan waits on his next storyline. Kind of odd they have nothing for him yet. I’d love to see him in a classic match we didn’t see coming. How about Bryan vs. Cole II in Tampa?

Elimination Chamber Card:

SmackDown Tag Team Championship Elimination Chamber Match: The Usos vs. Robert Roode and Dolph Ziggler vs. Heavy Machinery vs. Lucha House Party vs. The New Day vs. John Morrison and The Miz

Elimination Chamber Match – Winner gets match at WrestleMania vs. Becky Lynch for RAW Women’s Championship: Shayna Baszler vs. Ruby Riott vs. Natalya vs. Sarah Logan vs. Liv Morgan vs. Asuka

Intercontinental Championship 3-on-1 Handicap Match: Cesaro, Sami Zayn and Shinsuke Nakamura vs. Braun Strowman

Parting shots:

Oh no Joe – Tough to see Samoa Joe suspended 30 days for a Wellness Policy violation. A concussion and now suspension takes him out of one of the bigger angles on RAW but should be back in time for WrestleMania.

Killer Kross and Scarlett Bordeaux – You have to think this couple is going to make a big debut either right before WrestleMania or in Tampa. Are the glitches a foreshadowing for something big for these two?

WWE Backstage – I’ve had high hopes for this show and it has had its moments. But, without CM Punk every week and no consistency other than Renee Young each week. I’ve been disappointed lately. Loved the talk between Mark Henry and Keith Lee last week. But did we really need a Bella Twins baby contest this week? Ugh!

Two cage matches for NXT this Wednesday? Sounds like overkill to me.

If you get a chance to listen to Lacey Evans on Boston radio Friday morning, it was a good listen on 98.5 The Sports Hub. Listen to it here.

Thanks for letting us share our thoughts! Shoot me an email at jcrowe567@gmail.com. We’d love to hear your comments and suggestions! You can also check out my blog, The Crowe’s Nest as we delve into more pro wrestling, sports entertainment and the World of Sports. My apologies ahead of time – I AM a Patriots and Red Sox fan! If you’re not down with that, I’ve got TWO WORDS for you… NEW ENGLAND!

[ananas-pineapple-thing]

I found this in my drafts, and I’m not a great writer, but I thought I’d just post this friendship fic thing-y

Me and You and You and Me

1.

The river looks pretty.

It's not something Septimus ever imagined himself thinking before- but then again, this is his first time here without a soldier's uniform, without the icy hand of fear curled around his neck, and even then it might've looked nice. He might've just not noticed until now, this second, and that's fine. That's okay. Maybe he would've liked to see the river unfiltered by the lenses of duty and death and order when he was younger and colder and needed it more, but that's just how it works. Everything good comes all of a sudden, loud and rushing and overwhelming and so, so new, and he can deal with it that way. Even if the one he wants to share this with the most is dead. It's fine, though, it's okay! He's completely fine!

Septimus scratches the letters 409 into a tree with his new pocket knife in his honor anyways, because this is absolutely what his very best friend would've wanted as his legacy. He pretends he is not even the littlest bit sad whenever someone passes and looks confused.

No one's really glancing his way anymore, because, well, the river looks pretty. The whole of it he can see is lit up with the reflected yellows and golds of the sun, shimmering on the waves of the pale, almost frosty blue water. There are no clouds in the sky, and any lingering murkiness fades away to clear water. Even from far away Septimus can see the small boat Nicko is piloting, and the even smaller blip of Jenna sitting on the edge, legs dangling in the water. Even from here he can see the sunlight glinting on his sister's circlet.

The bank is covered in damp, trampled grass and dark sand, but it's nice. It feels comfortable, familiar. Septimus is too tired to join them in the water right now, and he doesn't want to sit on the wood planked bridge where he saw them off, with his back exposed to the people coming and going. It's better here, curled up against a large rock where no one can sneak up at him. He can actually watch them here instead of sitting all prickly and still, waiting for the Chief Cadet to press a knife to his neck, maybe, or waiting to be pushed into the hungry waters.

Nicko is pulling on Jenna's legs from his boat until she is dragged into the water. She resurfaces, spluttering and soaking and angry. Nicko is leaning over the railing, laughing.

Septimus is too far away to hear what he's saying, but it must be something like, isn't the water nice? Didn't I tell you?

Jenna doesn't seem to think so. Still fuming, she grabs Nicko by the shoulders in a surprising show of strength and he topples in after her.

Now Jenna is laughing. Nicko tries to splash her, but she ducks behind his boat. The rope keeping it tied to the bank is slowly unfurling, and Septimus wonders how long it will take them to notice. He wonders if he should call out to them.

But if he can't hear them, then, well, they won't be able to hear him. Besides, it might be fun to watch them chasing after it. Septimus can't help but smile and lean closer when Jenna notices and starts tugging on Nicko's arm. He mistakes it as an invite to splash her in the face.

The feeling in his chest when Septimus watches this is new, one that makes his heart swell into something almost too large to be healthy. He laughs out loud at the scene before him- Jenna and Nicko paddling furiously after their boat- dropping his head to rest on his knees. Dropping his guard enough so that he doesn't notice the footsteps until they settle right next to him.

Septimus whirls around and stops, breathing hard. There is an older boy there.

It takes him a moment, and when he gets it, he's embarrassed it took so long. It's okay. It's just Beetle.

"Wotcha, Sep," Beetle says, maybe not noticing Septimus's momentary panic, maybe just too polite to mention it. He flops down beside him, grinning, almost inevitably getting grass stains on his white stockings in the process. "The river looks nice, doesn't it?"

"Wotcha, Beetle," Septimus says, smiling back, and closes his eyes. This part is not new. This part has happened before, in other ways. It's as familiar in the same way the rhymes embedded in his brain are, the same way he always looks over one shoulder, in case. Familiar the same way letting a boy fall into a fast following river every night is.

409 standing next to him along the castle walls, both dressed in uniforms. His best friend catches his eye and then shakes a lizard out of his hat. How long was that there? he mouths, and they both stifle their laughs.

Side by side, holed up in a wolverine pit, waiting to for the inventible death of someone, even themselves. "What do you think your name is?" he asks 409 in a whisper, as a distraction. 409 shrugs, saying, "What my mum called me? Probably better than what yours called you."

His cot is wet from the icy water dumped on him the day before by the Chief Cadet to force him up. His nose is running, his breath misting. It is so, so cold and so, so wet. He shaken up by 409, and led back into his friend's cot. It's cramped, but warm and dry. Passing over a different river, in the forest during a Do-or-Die exercise. "The water looks nice, look, 412," his best friend says, leaning a little too far out. Neither of them notice. "I think it just looks cold," he replies.  

Septimus opens his eyes again. "It does, doesn't it?"

They both sit there for a moment, watching the gentle waves in the water. His siblings are out of view, but he knows they'll be back in a moment, to drag him in, maybe, or invite him for hot chocolate. He's not worried.

And anyway, this is nice. Sitting with Beetle is nice. He's only met him twice before on chores for Marcia, but he's someone Septimus knows he wouldn't mind having as a friend. It would be nice to have one of those outside of his family again.

Beetle smiles at him again, and it makes Septimus ache in the way that it reminds him of someone else, from what feels like so very long ago. It's fine, though, it's okay. He's completely fine.

2.

When Jo-Jo comes home from the Grot everyday, Edd and Erik are sprawled across his bed.

The thing is, he isn't sure why they come to his flat at the end of each day when they can easily buy their own, more convenient rooms in the Wizard Tower. Maybe they're just trying to save money by leeching off of him. Maybe they miss the nights in the forest when sleeping came easier and there was always another brother a few steps away. Maybe they like his company. Maybe more and less of each, in different ways.

For the most part, though, Jo-Jo doesn't mind. He'll come home and throw his clothes on the closest head and then he and Erik will kick up their feet and demand that Edd make dinner for the three of them with the limited supplies in his shelves. They'll eat cross-legged on the floor and let Edd know how much they like his food by repeatedly insulting it. Someone will try to destroy his framed drawing of Marissa. He'll try to save it. As it stands, the glass has multiple cracks and the color is fading. She looks like a blob. Instead of their egos deflating by their defeat, the twins will take the loss as an invite to make fun of Jo-Jo for about half an hour, and he'll get a few insults in as well if he's lucky, just like old times. Not that Jo-Jo missed their arguments. He just. Anyways.

Jo-Jo has to do some hardcore shoving to get a spot on his own bed, and even then he doesn't have enough room to stretch out his legs. Erik is having trouble as well, but Jo-Jo is too concerned about his rapidly numbing feet to bring himself to care about Erik and his stupid elbows. He should've thought of that before invading Jo-Jo's bed.

"We could like, all dye our hair black, pose as royalty, and get rooms in the Palace," Edd says, reading aloud from a list titled Battle Plans to his bored and half asleep audience. There is a stack of cards scattered here, somewhere, but they all forgot about the game and by the time they remembered, they were all too tired to play. "Then Erik and I wouldn't have to sleep on the ugly lumpy couch."

Jo-Jo is no longer bored and half asleep. He is wide awake and incredibly insulted. He springs up, part-leaning part-falling over Erik and attempting to grab the list. "First of all," he huffs as Edd raises it above his head, "my couch is not ugly. You're ugly. And secondly, it's lumpy because you throw your clothes on it!"

Erik shoves him back with cry of, "My elbows, move Jo-Jo, move."

"Alternatively, you could just ask Jenna to give you the rooms," Jo-Jo continues, not at all fazed.

"I've always wanted to pose as royalty," Erik contributes. He plucks the Battle Plans from his twin's hand, and Edd lets him. Jo-Jo feels a twinge of something at that, but it's not the right time- because it never is- so he shoves it into the corner of his brain to suffocate there.

"Really?" Edd says, sounding almost insulted. "Since when?"

"Wow," Jo-Jo says. "Move into the Wizard Tower, both of you."

Edd and Erik share a look. "No."

Jo-Jo shares a look with Marissa-the-blob. "Idiots."

The three of them are all trying very, very hard to keep straight faces, expressions going tight as to not smile on accident, but then they catch each other's eyes. Edd, Erik, and Jo-Jo burst out laughing until their chests are heaving with the effort, and keep going even then. One of the twins shoves Jo-Jo off the bed, and he lets himself fall flat on his back. He's joined by Edd dangling off the edge a moment later, and then Erik, who lands on top of Jo-Jo.

"Jeez," Jo-Jo wheezes, batting at his brother on top of him, all dead weight. Erik takes his own sweet time rolling off, so Jo-Jo makes sure to kick one of his elbows on the way, since Erik seems so attached to them. Heh. Attached.

"We should just stay here, but we get the get the bed and Jo-Jo gets the couch, since he loves it so much," Edd says, hands up and gesturing in the air, as if trying to non-verberally explain why this is a good idea, and begins to tip over the edge. He realizes his mistake just in time and grasps onto Jo-Jo's bed again like a lifeline.

"I bought that bed! With my wages!" Jo-Jo sits up, indignant. "And I don't even like my couch that much." That is lie. Jo-Jo loves his beautiful couch. His couch has never fallen on him and wouldn't try to freeload on him either. And it's incredibly soft. He should probably just marry his couch.

Jo-Jo snorts. Better not let Marissa hear that. Or anyone, for that matter, because Edd and Erik would laugh at him for ages and then tell some more people and laugh at him again. Then Jenna would come visit him in person to laugh at him. In like, a mean way. And then Jo-Jo would forever be known as the guy who entertained the thought of marrying his couch. And everyone would be laughing at him. Could he get away with blaming his brothers for driving him into that insanity? Marcia would probably believe him. And Septimus.

"Jo-Jo?" Edd's ugly, rude voice breaks into Jo-Jo's sad daydream. "Are you okay? You laughed at something, and then stared at the couch with this depressed look for three whole minutes. What were you thinking about?"

Jo-Jo did that? Well, great, now he has to make up something before the inevitable laughing starts. They cannot know. These older brothers are going to make him prematurely grey.

"...Huh?" Jo-Jo says. Nailed it.

Edd and Erik fall back into laughter once more, louder this time. Jo-Jo sighs, but he lets the fondness tug at his heart, lets himself duck his head and smile underneath his curls, exasperated.

"You two," he huffs out, untangling himself from his brothers. It's not a real sentence, so he tries again. "You two, I swear, I swear."

And that's not much better, but they get it. Erik pulls him back down by his collar, dragging him over the two feet Jo-Jo had managed to put between him and them, so that his head is squashed against Edd's shoulder and Erik is draped over the both of them.

"Swear that you'll give up your bed for the greater good?" Edd asks, all straight faced, and Jo-Jo fists are too stuck and too far away to punch him.

"Ha," Erik says, yanking on Jo-Jo collar a little harder. "Now both of you shut up. I'm tired, and this is strangely comfortable."

Because you're not squashed at all on top, Jo-Jo means to say. Instead, he pries Erik's fingers from his collar and lets himself get as cozy as he can with Edd making his legs more and more numb by the moment. He swears, swears later that he only closed his eyes for a second. 3.

I am Syrah Syara. I am five hundred thirteen old. I was born in the Castle. I

12004 takeaway 500 equals 11504 takeaway 13 equals 11491

am not the Syren. Anymore. I am Syrah Syara. I am Syrah Syara. I am Syrah

Syrah is kicking at the dirt with her bare feet. Not because it’s particularly exciting, because what would be about all this? It doesn’t matter anyway. Her feet are barely leaving prints. They are too small or too weak or the dirt is just stubborn and she, she needs to be far stronger to make any sort of impact on it.

Summer is coming to an end in the Castle, and the green is all tinted in red-yellow-oranges. Rose is growing out her hair again, and the Sick Bay staff are pulling out scarfs and buttoning up coats. Midsummer’s day is long gone. Marcellus Pye is holed up in his Alchemie Chamber making everyone in the general vicinity tea, and Simon is grumbling over having to help. Septimus is rememorizing Heating Charms. Nicko and Rupert are closing up the Boat rentals for races in the Moat, and Syrah’s flowers are all wilting.

Syrah is wilting. She is kicking at the dirt and trying to convince herself that she is here, in mind and soul and body, in the control over her actions. It’s very hard. The dirt won’t move so is she really kicking it? Is she is she is she is-

Today is a very bad day.

She is not on the island anymore, that much Syrah knows. But then sometimes she feels like she still is, that if she wants to lift a limb she can’t, that someone else will pull on strings that lift the limbs for her when she doesn’t want it. And her head hurts. Her heart hurts. And her ribs are aching and she’s very, very tired.

She can’t fall asleep. And.

The Castle is not her home anymore no matter what they say because Julius is dead and her old home is rotted and the streets are new and there is no one left to live for but herself.

And why would she live for herself? The Syren is still inside somewhere she knows, she knows or maybe it took a piece of her away with it or maybe she died with it and why would she live for herself when herself aided a monster?

It’s very very cold. Summer came and went but she was cold.

Everyone she loves is dead. Her whole life so far has been more than five hundred years long and it’s all a hole to fall into. They’re all dead and she is alive.

She wants to leave. They want her to leave. Rose walks on eggshells around her. The Queen looks at her like a puzzle not a person. Marcellus was Julius’s friend and he’s alive while he is dead. Septimus avoids her.

Septimus.

It was her fault she couldn’t remember first but now she can and it’s too late to fix and it’s her fault and now he won’t look her in the eye. He was so happy she woke up and now. Now he probably wishes she slept forever.

She can’t fall asleep or the Syren will takeover again. It will find her and invade her mind again. Turn her into a puppet again. Turn her to nothing.

But she is nothing without the Syren even now. She does not know what she was before and she does not know what to be after and it is the worst and something so insignificant and small because she was saved but at what cost what should the cost be and she can’t-

And she is so, so tired.

Syrah lets herself fall back onto the dirt now, curling her arms around her torso and tucking her chin onto her knees. She tries to remember being asleep for two years and how wonderful that was, the numbness where she could feel nothing, remember nothing. She tries remembers how she used to sing for Julius and the little tree she planted outside the Wizard Tower. It might still be there, it might have been cut down. She won’t ever know. Her head is still buzzing too much to picture this, and she feels dizzy, watching the backs of the houses tilting along with the rest of the world. This is a bad time, and a bad day. Maybe a bad year, or a very bad five hundred years.

The wort part is. She doesn’t know if she can feel bad. She was rescued two years ago and the Syren’s gone and so much is different now that all this, she might be making it up. Despite what Rose says about her having a right to feel this way, it feels too small and technically too long ago to feel sick about. Many, many miles away. Maybe she’s so lost without the monster that she’s holding onto aftereffects that aren’t really there. Maybe bad days aren’t bad days at all, and she. She’s just.

"Syrah?"

Syrah sees the braids before she sees the rest of Lucy, and by the time she’s kneeled down to peer concernedly at her face, Syrah’s vision has gone all blurry for no reason at all. She can taste salt water.

Lucy pauses, then pulls her into her arms. Syrah chokes back on a sob, but she can’t pull away to hide it.

“It’s alright,” Lucy says, almost whispers. “You cry all you want, and I’ll stay here."

Syrah doesn't say anything, but Lucy continues, "That is, if you want me to."

Syrah wipes at her tears, but they're coming down too hard and too fast and Lucy is holding her more gently than she deserves. She closes her eyes, buries her face in her shoulder.

"Just for a moment," she says, and she can feel Lucy nod. Today is a very, very bad day, one that Lucy is not able to understand, will never be able to. But having someone to hold onto will be nice. To convince her she is still here, in mind, in body, in soul. Maybe Syrah can tell her why exactly this is day has been too much, after a moment. But for now.

The tears are coming faster now, and Syrah thinks she might need a little more than just a moment. It isn't until her hair dampens slightly does she realize that Lucy is crying too.

4. 

Sam is picking up Jenna and twirling her around, around, around, until she's dizzy all over and feels like she's flying, like she can touch the ceiling, if she wanted to. Then he drops her on the ground once more and she wobbles over, tilting sideways and falling flat on her back. She giggles, and he laughs, louder, looking so overjoyed.

The ceiling is so far away now.

"Sam, do it again," she orders, watching his face spin out of focus along with everything else.

"One second," Sam says. He holds a hand to his head, squinting, and then abruptly joins her on the floor, blinking rapidly.

"Actually, maybe not," Simon says, kneeling besides her. He rests an elbow on Sam's shoulder, and Sam doesn't put much heart into trying to shake it off, only scowling to keep up his fakity-fake annoyance. "Let's wait until you aren't dizzy anymore."

"I'm not, look!" And Jenna stands up and to perform a handstand, shoving away the inevitable paraphernalia of the Heap's room to an increasingly cluttered corner. She stays up maybe a second and a half before the world begins to tip once more.

Jenna falls again, out of breath, the ceiling pinwheeling above her. Her heart aches with affection when her brothers clap and whistle and stamp, before turning back to what they were doing. Simon and Sam are standing where she left them, eyebrows raised and impressed in the way only older siblings can be. Impressed by a handstand that lasted a second and a half, a second and a half and then ending in a fall.

"I didn't know you could do that," Sam says, eyebrows raised almost uncomfortably high.

Simon cackles at that, sounding as delighted as he could possibly be, and both Jenna and Sam and can't help but smile themselves, too. He scoops Jenna into his arms, holding her tight around the waist with her feet just barely above the ground, and turns in a slow circle for all their brothers to see. "There's a lot we don't know about you, right, Jenna?" he says, rather than asks, and then raises his voice an octave louder. "Our sister's going to rule the world someday!"

Then he throws her up in the air, far higher than he's allowed too, something that's been banned since Edd tossed her to Erik and she bumped her head when she was four.

-her hair is flying all around and the ceiling is close enough to touch, for real this time-

And then she's falling down, down, down far too fast, terrifyingly so, her brothers's faces blurring into the furniture and clutter and the background, Simon's open arms so close yet miles and miles away, and Jenna swears she sees everything then, the good and the bad, the cold and the awful and the brilliant and wonderful, and she's almost surely going to hit her head again, but Simon has his arms out to catch her any second now, and she doesn't remember to be afraid. fin.

[x-men-x-imagines]

Imagine #21 (Request)

Requested by Anon: If you are looking for imagine ideas here is one : (Set in first class )The reader can control earth and water & instead of Eric stopping the Miss lies aimed for the beach the reader stops them before him by creating a giant water wall or tsunami (or something) & everyone is shocked because they haven't been able to master their powers yet

Not my gif

Words: 1627

Warnings: mild angst, typos

A/N: So, this doesn’t exactly have a ship, except for some hinted Sean x Reader, which you can probably ignore, I hope you don’t mind. Also Happy Easter to all of you, who celebrate it, and to all the others: I hope, your having a great day, too! Enjoy! xoxo

“We can’t take them, Erik!”, Charles said for about the 100th time that night. “We’ll need every last man, Charles. Shaw will have all his… friends prepared and ready to kill. And we definitely can’t afford to leave someone like y/n behind, just because you don’t believe them to be… what? Ready? Strong enough.”, Erik replied, moving his knight to H5.

“They aren’t ready, my friend! You weren’t there, you didn’t see the things that can happen, when y/n loses control. Yesterday in practice, I told them to put out the fire and they flooded half the mansion. And that was in a calm and secure situation. The things that could happen to them… and to all of us, if y/n loses control in front of Shaw…”

“Maybe that’s exactly what we need. A little chaos can’t hurt.” “That’s not funny, Erik.” “It wasn’t meant as a joke.” Erik got up from the couch, gesturing towards the chessboard. “You’ll win.” Charles nodded. His strategy and worked out perfectly, probably because Erik had been that focused on convincing him to lead y/n, possibly one of the most powerful of his students, but also the one with the most difficulties in controlling their mutation, into battle against an enemy, who was almost impossible to defeat. “I’ll win.”, Charles repeated.

“And you’ll have to let y/n decide, whether they want to come with us or not.” Charles nodded once more.

 You were scared. You were so scared! And you felt like a failure. The minute Charles had asked you if you wanted to come and fight with the others, you had said yes without thinking twice. This was what you had been training for, you had told yourself, this was where you had to be, where the others needed you to be. Of course, you had completely ignored the fact that you had made little to no progress in your training with Charles and that, even on a good day, you were barely able to telekinetically move a bucket full of sand, without passing out and waking up days later with the worst hangover-like headache of all time.

And here you were, sitting in between the wreckage of Shaw’s submarine on some godforsaken beach in Cuba, hiding, watching the others fight, shaking and rocking back and forth like the baby that you were, trying to ignore the humming, the uncomfortable vibration the water sent through your mind. It called you. The dirt under your knees reached for you, it asked you to take control. How you hated all this! How you hated to feel the obligation to do something, anything, to use your mutation, to let go, but to know that whatever you did, could only fail or hurt people.

Goddammit! You pulled up your nose and shakily got back on your feet, just in time to watch Beast beat Azazel to the ground.

A few steps away from you, Alex was leaning over Sean, who was coughing and breathing heavily. You stumbled towards them, falling to one knee right next to Sean’s chest. He looked surprisingly well, except for some bruises and the huge whole in one of his wings. Relief washed over you and you let out a shaky breath, until Alex looked up at you, brows furrowed. “Where were you?” It didn’t sound like a reproach, more like an actual question, but it reminded you of how useless you were. You looked back down at Sean.

“Are you guys okay?”, you murmured, ignoring Alex’ question, just as the sound of metal ripping apart cut through the dusty air. You looked up, subconsciously clawing your hands into the sand beneath you.

“Today our fighting stops!” It was Erik. And he was wearing Shaw’s helmet. Your eyes widened, as you watched Shaw’s body float through the ripped whole on the side of the submarine. Blood was running out of the man’s forehead and from the ways he dropped to the floor like a brick, you could guess, what state of health he was in. Your throat got sore, as you saw Charles step towards Erik, pain and disappointment in his eyes.

“Take of your blinders, brothers and sisters! The real enemy is out there!”, Erik called, looking at each and every one of you, whilst gesturing towards the ships near the horizon. The water was moving; you could feel it. Something wasn’t right. You squinted your eyes at Erik, your heart not knowing what to do. Should you be scared? Should you trust his words?

You helped Sean get back on his feet, not taking your eyes off of Erik. What was he doing? “I feel their guns moving in the water. Their metal. Targeting us.”

Your heart skipped a beat, your breath hitched. It wasn’t over. Only now you realized, how badly you had wanted this to be over. Your eyes met with Charles’s, who seems just as alarmed.

“It’ll be fine, y/n, I promise.”, you heard his voice inside your head, but his tone told you the exact opposite. You gulped, trying to stop yourself from panicking. You knew that Erik was right. The ocean was shaking, washing over something foreign, something wrong. Even the water seemed to tremble in fear. You hated yourself for the tears, that started running down your cheeks.

“Go ahead, Charles, tell me that I’m wrong.”, Erik asked, eyeing the ships, then the mutants, both his allies and Shaw’s. Charles’ reply was a nod towards Moira, who then disappeared in the plane wreck.

You felt the pressure of Sean’s arm on your shoulders; you felt the pressure of all the mutants around you on the sand, and the pressure of the ships on the water. Your chest ached from your ragged breathing, your eyes were burning from the merciless sun and the tears, that showed everyone, just how weak you actually were.

In this point, you weren’t even sure anymore, if you were holding Sean, or if he was holding you. You heard his voice; he asked you a question, but it was too loud to understand him. The waves, the people, the sun, everything was too loud. Your hands flew to your ears, you squeezed your eyes shut, your knees shaking and bending under all the things you were holding up, all the things that were holding you down.

A pained moan escaped from your lips, but it got lost in what felt like a thousand tons of pain and energy breaking down over your head, as the missiles took course for the beach.

Your head was burning and so was your throat. Were you screaming? Crying? You couldn’t see, your eyes were closed and you couldn’t open them. You were choking on something… everything. And then, all of a sudden, everything went quiet. Everything except for you.

Your own screams echoed through your brain, like there was nothing else left. Around you was nothing but crystal-clear cold. You were thankful for the cold, you were thankful for the water that had broken down over you. For a second, everything was just fine.

Until something dragged you out of the floods. You gasped for air, choked on your own tongue, coughing and coughing, till there was nothing left. Your eyes were burning, but you opened them nonetheless. And there, maybe two feet away from you, you watched the most beautiful scenario that you had ever seen. The wave – almost a tsunami – looked like it had gotten stuck halfway to the beach, floating in the air, like it had forgotten what to do next. It watched you, the reflexions of sunlight, only interrupted by the dark missile shells, smiling down at you. And you smiled back, before everything went black around you.

 You didn’t have to ask where you were. You recognized the smell, the sounds, even the way the light flooded through your closed lids. You were at home. And someone was holding on to your hand. You squinted through halfway closed eyes, trying not to move.

It was Sean, sitting next to your bed, eyes closed, head rested on the back of his chair. Once again, you weren’t sure, who was holding who, and before you could decide, the door to the infirmary opened.

“We’re glad, you’re awake.”, Charles said, moving towards you in…

“Oh my god, what happened?”, you blurted out – your voice barely a sore whisper – as you looked down at the wheelchair. “It’s fine, y/n, don’t worry. All you need to worry about is getting better soon.”

You shook your head. “What happened?”, you asked once again, clearing your throat, which didn’t exactly have the desired effect. “You passed out on the beach.”, Charles began, just as Sean’s eyes fluttered open. “Hey.”, you said hoarsely, squeezing his hand.

“You’re awake.”, he replied, sitting upright in his chair, grinning at you boyishly. “Yeah. I guess.” You turned back to Charles, who looked more than tired. “What day is it?”, you asked.

“You were out for three days. I think, you are probably the only person, who was able to sleep properly in the past few days.”, Sean joked, even though it didn’t exactly sound like a joke.

“What happened?”, you asked for the third time, thinking that maybe, if you just kept asking, someone might actually answer you one day. “You stopped the missiles, y/n.” Charles smiled at you. “All of them. You managed to control your abilities long enough to save a whole lot of lives.”

You felt yourself blush. “I wouldn’t call it control…”, you murmured. The truth was, you barely remembered any of it. “But we can build on that.”, Charles interrupted. “Where are the others? Are they okay?”

“Alex and Hank are downstairs, Moira has already left.” “And Raven?”, you added and gulped. “E-Erik?”

[rosegoldenskies]

The adventures of the incubi Chapter  # 1 :Bounce houses

Finally finished it.

It was noon and the boys weren’t home yet.The ones that are normally home are damien and matthew but they told mika that they were going to roam the city for a while,that gave her enough time to go to the store and buy stuff for the surprise.She was so excited and she left right away,

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mika came with lots of thing from the store but there was a problem…the boys were home already.DANG IT.

“Miss is that you”She heard james she didn’t know what to do.She moved to the right and then to the left.No.Noooo.What do i do now.She asked herself.She did the first thing she thought of and push the box outside and slammed the door.

“Yes James…*She puffed*.It me”You manage to push the box outside and closed the door and stood in front of him within minutes.

The next thing you heard was a Big Bang outside.

James was walking towards the door but you pulled him to you.

“No…”Then you got an idea.

“Ah…owww..owww”Mika threw herself on the floor.Making it look like an accident.

“Are you alright miss”James got down on his knees and checked her ankle.

“It’s hurts owww ”James carried Mika bride style and put her down on the couch.So he can see her ankle better.

“Well I’m happy to say that it is not sprained”James smiled and help her up and she stood in front of the eldest incubus.

“Are you going to be alright”He had a concearn look on his face.

“James’s"She said gave him a expression to not worry about her.

“I’m sorry.I just get worried for you”He grabbed her  hand and she started to blush.

“Hehe..*blushing*I’ll be alright james….so are your brother’s home”He let go of her hands.

“Yes there home miss,there in the kitchen helping prepare dinner”James smiled at her.

“Hey…GUYS LET ME HELP”I heard sam even though i wasn’t even near the kitchen.

“But Sam he’s a different story”I giggled.

“Well i’m going to be i the garden james.Good luck on dinner”She saw James walk back to the kitchen.She then looked if he was actually was gone.

Mika ran outside and took the stuff out of the trunk of her car and headed toward the back yard but, farther out past the gazebo and the fence.

It was a beautiful scenery.There were three willow trees and the was a little pond.She started to prepare the space.She bought a bounce house and fairy lights.She hanged them on the willow trees and it was getting pretty late and the fairly light made a good job illuminating the place she was going to use the bounce house in.They weren’t that bright and not to dark the stars reflected on the pond.They boys would love it .

She took the bags and the rest of the stuff she didn’t need anymore and threw them away..She headed back to the mission.When mika opened the front door her senses were filled with different smells and her stomach growled and she headed to the dining room.

The table was filled with food and saw matthew come in her way.

“Mika i haven’t seen you since you came home,where have you been”Matthew place the plate he had on the table and came toward mika.

“Sorry Matthew.Ive been stressed out lately and I needed some alone time”She smiled and she was panicking on the inside.

“Oh…well hope it helped you ”Matthew and Mika faced to the kitchen and saw Sam followed by james,damien and erik.

“Well since everybody is here.We can go ahead and eat”James said and everybody took their seat.

As they all were talking and eating the time flew by.The all talked about how there day was.It was time to clean up.Mika tried so hard not to think about the surprise because she knew damien would read her mind.It was time for dessert but mika spoke up

“Guys i think i’m going to sleep now”She faked a yawn.

“Its fucking early and tomorrow is the weekend?Why would you sleep early?”She glared at sam.

“Because i fucking want to sam”She rolled her eyes at him.She was just messing with him.

“Pfff…I was just saying”Sam crossed his arms and stuffed his mouth with the dessert.

“I’m messing with you Sam.Well I’m going to go.Goodnight guys”And Mika headed up stairs.

After making it to her room.You decided to go in the middle of the nigh.Even though bounce house are usually used in a party or event.You wanted to make it extra special for them.Since you though they didn’t have a normal childhood.Even though there not normal there demon’s but you though it was you’re job to make them happy at all cost.

~~~ 2 hours later

She couldn’t sleep because of so much excitement.You jumped out off you’re bed and grabbed something in you’re drawer.It was a horn to wake them up.

Hey.She did mean surprise.Hmm.But who to scar first.ahh.James.I scared Sam a couple weeks ago with the clown prank.

She walked out of her room and walking as quiet as possible to James room.She made it and opened the door.

Okay here she goes.She walked closer to sleeping james.He looked so peaceful.To bad.In one…two…three.

“JAMES WAKE UP”She yelled along with the Horne.

“Ahhh”He fell and mika covered my mouth in concern.She heard a snapping noise.

“OMG James..”She ran to see if he was alright.

“Ugh…yes miss I’m alright”She helped him up and he looked back at the bed.

“But I can say the same for the bed”I saw the corner of the bed and I saw the piece of wood on the ground.

“Ehh..never mind that.James get dressed,I’m going to wake up the rest.Meet me at the lobby”She ran off before James can even say a word.

After waking them all up and with a little scare.She failed to scare Damien.She said to meet her at the lobby.But Sam was pissed off.He’s just mad because he got scared twice already.

“Princess what wrong.Did something happen?”Erik asked her and she nodded her head and smiled.

“No it’s nothing like that.Come.Let’s go to the garden”She took them and they looked confused and they stopped.

“Where not there yet”But they were at the end of the gazebo and the fence there were filled with confusion.

“There is nothing here.Where are we going now.It’s fucking 2am in the morning Mika.Im going back to bed”Sam said but Matthew came in the conversation.

“Come on sam.Let’s just see what she want to show us”Matthew smiled at Mika and he yawed afterwards.

“ugh…lets just go.God damn it.”Sam said defeated.

“Hehe..You’re kind of excited Sam.”Damien let out a sweet a cute laugh.

“Ugh…Damian please stop fucking saying my thoughts out loud.”Sam was really frustrated with all of them.

“Don’t be a jerk sam.”Matthew gave him the same glare James gave him.

“Where are you taking us princess~”Erik was getting really tired of hearing Sam and Matthew.

“Were almost there.Now come on”You pulled sam’s arm because he was being to stubborn.

Yank!

“Wow?Take it easy Mika!!”Sam replied to Mika.She smirked and behind the bushes there was a door.

“Oh it’s a secret door”I looked at damien and smiled and nodded

As soon as we entered through the door and see fairy lights.There all were speechless “What is this place”Matthew went running to the bounce house.”Oh and What is this?!”Matthew was overly excited and happy.Mika giggled at the sight of him being so happy.

“You woke us up for this”Sam crossed his arms.He then exhaled and to back his words.And pointed his finger at Damien before he could speak.

“Yes I’m excited.There!!.I say it before you Damien HA”Damien giggled at his brother.

“So how about going in into the bounce house and have some fun”She smiled widely.Matthew and Damien wasted no time and ran to the bounce house.

After that sam and Erik walked towards them and Mika saw James hold back.She looked toward him and face him.

“James”I questioned him and smiled but his smile didn’t seem a happy one.

“Yes miss”

“What’s wrong james why aren’t you joining your brothers”

“Miss it just when I was in the demon world studying to be the next heir to the throne for my father the demon lord.I never really have time to be with them.I’ve spend these months giving them everything I can to see them happy.Even sam he’s so difficult but he’s my brother I’ll always love him.And seeing them like this…”Mika turned around and saw sam,Erik,Matthew and Damien in the bounce house they were laughing and having they were having the time of their life and getting along.

Mika smiled and look back at James.

“You’re an amazing brother James and I bet you’re brothers see that,but you have spend all this time making them happy,you deserve to be happy and have fun too”Mika told James and she grabbed his hand.

“Now…let’s have fun James”

“Alright miss”James took of his glasses and they both walked toward the bounce house and entered.

“HAHA I can go higher than that pipsqueak!”Mika and James heard and Sam arguing with Matthew.

“I’d like to see you try sam!”Matthew stuck his tongue out.

“Woah what going on”Mika asked and Erik spoke up.

“There trying to see who can jump higher.Dumb really,but entertaining”Erik smiled and laughed.

“SAM…stop you’re going to…”All of them heard a pop and the bounce house started to disinflate.

“Ahhh it going down”Matthew yelled.The bounce fell on top of all of them.

“Look what you’ve done sam”Damien said.

“Hey it alright sam,beside it time to hit it and go to. Bed”They all got out of the bounce house and they cleaned up and headed back to the mansion.

The got off the bounce house and matthew spoke up.

“Guys look”

We all looked at the sky and saw a full moon and stars.It the first time mika has ever paid attention to the sky mid night.

“How bout we stay here a little longer Erik spoke up and we all agreed and hope the boys stay a little longer and have many adventures with them in the future.

[gokinjeespot]

off the rack #1284

Monday, October 21, 2019

 Please take time to cast your vote in the Canadian Federal Election today if you haven't already. Our democracy depends on its citizens voting. If you wake up tomorrow and your side lost then I sincerely hope that we as a country can continue living our daily lives with respect and compassion. Things will change. Better for some and not for others. Let's all try to remember what it is to be Canadian eh.

 Is This How You See Me? - Jaime Hernandez (writer & artist). It's been years since I've looked in on Maggie and Hopey so this new graphic novel chronicling their adventures at a punk music reunion in Huerta was a perfect way for me to catch up on their lives. The girls have always had a complicated relationship and things haven't changed too much now that Esperanza/Hopey is married to another woman with a son and Maggie is in a long term relationship with a man. I loved the flashbacks to their younger days and unlike Dan De Carlo's Betty and Veronica, these women have aged and Jaime shows that beautifully. Love & Rockets fans must buy this graphic novel.

 Archie #708 - Nick Spencer & Mariko Tamaki (writers) Sandy Jarrell (artist) Matt Herms (colours) Jack Morelli (letters). Lots of mysterious things going on in this issue as Archie and Sabrina's picnic in the woods is interrupted while Jughead and Reggie's investigation into Reggie's father's disappearance receives a major clue. These modern Archie comics are so much more interesting than the old school stuff.

 Guardians of the Galaxy #10 - Donny Cates (writer) Cory Smith (pencils) Victor Olazaba (inks) David Curiel (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). The reunion with an ex-Guardian doesn't go well but not to worry folks, Groot and his pals come to the rescue. I like the new Magus reborn. Oh, and the cover is a total fib.

 Absolute Carnage #4 - Donny Cates (writer) Ryan Stegman (pencils) JP Mayer, Jay Leisten & Ryan Stegman (inks) Frank Martin (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). All seems lost when Carnage absorbs the Venom symbiote from a defeated Hulk but hold your horses folks, Eddie Brock will save the day. It's a major change for this character so you won't want to miss it.

 Metal Men #1 - Dan Didio (writer) Shane Davis (pencils) Michelle Delecki (inks) Jason Wright (colours) Travis Lanham (letters). Unlike the recently released Inferior Five we actually have the Metal Men in this debut issue. I'm glad I gave Dan Didio a chance because he impressed me with this story. The discovery of a sentient Nth metal might be similar to Marvel's Venom symbiote but I'm hoping the rest of this 12-issue maxi doesn't devolve into Will Magnus's Metal Men fighting this new entity.

 Superman Year One #3 - Frank Miller (writer) John Romita Jr. (pencils) Danny Miki (inks) Alex Sinclair (colours) John Workman (letters). Great Caesar's ghost that was a slog. I actually fell asleep partway through this. This 3-issue mini did not deserve the prestige DC Back Label imprint treatment. The writing was hackneyed and the art was unspectacular. I got tired of the clipped, repetitive captions after only a few pages because they ran on and on. And even though this is some of John Romita Jr.'s best work there was nothing special about it. These stories of Superman's early adventures could've been done in a 6-issue $3.99 US monthly and fans would have been happy. The big blue boy scout is not a good fit for Frank Miller. The style of writing he used in this last issue is more suited to someone like Green Arrow or the Question. If he follows through with another Superman story like he teased on the last page I would think twice before spending the time to read it.

 X-Men #1 - Jonathan Hickman (writer) Leinil Francis Yu (pencils) Gerry Alanguilan (inks) Sunny Gho (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). This is the first new X-Team book to hit the racks following the twelve issues of House and Powers of X that laid the foundation for Marvel's mutant revamp. It introduces the good guys (the mutants) and the bad guys (human scientists hell bent on eradicating mutants). The team rescues young mutants from the bad guys and safely return to Krakoa leaving behind a lot of dead humans. Yes, no more mister nice mutant. The team consists of Cyclops, Storm, Polaris, Magneto, Dr. Reyes, Jean Grey, Havok, Vulcan, Wolverine, Cable and Prestige (I know her as Rachel Summers). Only Scott, Ororo, Erik and Lorna go on the mission so no crazy Canucklehead antics this issue, sigh. I liked this enough to want to keep reading but not enough to add it to my "must read" list.

 Killswitch #1 - Jeffrey & Susan Bridges (writers) Walter Geovani (art) Brittany Peer (colours) Simon Bowland (letters). This sci-fi comic book is about a future where a small minority of people can see the future. They're called Augers. The rest of humanity fears them and have them rounded up in detention centres. Sounds familiar. The main character is Major Marcella Regula who turned in her own brother as an Auger. She's the new head of security at a detention centre in a domed city built on a comet. She hits the killswitch to try and save an Auger from dying but fails. Then she helps the dead man's friends to escape. I picked this up because I really liked the art but the story didn't spark joy. I'm hitting the killswitch on this one.

 The Marked #1 - David Hine (writer) Brian Haberlin (art) Geirrod Van Dyke (colours) Francis Takenaga (letters). This new book is full of magic and the art is stupendous. An ancient order of tattooed magic users tasked with fighting the forces of chaos have found a new recruit. So has a malevolent government agency after one of the Marked is banished. I cared about Saskia and her new friends by the end of this issue so I want to find out what happens to them. I'm going to read this as long as I can.

 The Batman's Grave #1 - Warren Ellis (writer) Bryan Hitch (pencils) Kevin Nowlan (inks) Alex Sinclair (colours) Richard Starkings (letters). The opening pages did not surprise me because I know someone who has their tombstone already in place. Batman investigates when a dead body is found in a tenement building. The victim had a wall full of Batman clippings and this 12-issue maxi is off and running. I love the detective side of Batman so I'm adding this to my "must read" list.

 Spider-Man #2 - J. J. Abrams & Henry Abrams (writers) Sara Pichelli (art) Elisabetta D'Amico (inking assistant) Dave Stewart (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). Two issues in and Ben has met his MJ. Her name is Faye Ito and she's a pip. So much for the old secret identity. Also cue the super villain menace appearance. You won't hear me complaining that there are too many Spider-Man books on the racks as long as they're this good.

 Inferior 5 #2 - Jeff Lemire (writer) Keith Giffen (plot & pencils) Michelle Delecki (inks) Hi-Fi (colours) Rob Leigh (letters). That's enough for me. This is just too weird. If you're into weirdness, you will certainly like this.

 Something is Killing the Children #2 - James Tynion IV (writer) Werther Dell'Edera (art) Miquel Muerto (colours) AndWorld Design (letters). I like Erica Slaughter, monster hunter. She gives this horror story a lot of spunk.

 Contagion #3 - Ed Brisson (writer) Mack Chater & Stephen Segovia (art) Veronica Gandini & Andrew Crossley (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). I'll give Ed Brisson this, he sure knows how to string a Marvel maniac along. Jessica Jones was the one to entice me to read this issue and the heroes that show up to help fight the fungus next issue makes me want to read that too. And that's not to mention the Wrecking Crew either.

 Once & Future #3 - Kieron Gillen (writer) Dan Mora (art) Tamra Bonvillain (colours) Ed Dukeshire (letters). Evil King Arthur gets his Galahad while Duncan and his granny get help from a historian. I like granny's simple solution for keeping the bad guys from winning.

 Batman #81 - Tom King (writer) John Romita Jr. & Mitch Gerads (pencils) Klaus Janson & Mitch Gerads (inks) Tomeu Morey & Mitch Gerads (colours) Clayton Cowles (letters). We're getting there folks. Bear with us. That Thomas Wayne is one tough Batman. He takes on Batwoman, Batgirl, Orphan, Huntress, Red Robin, Robin and Signal and manages to survive. Damn that no killing rule. Meanwhile, Batman and Catwoman get into Arkham Asylum to get to Bane. I liked how all the stuff leading up to this issue is explained even though it was hard to follow.

[elpresidentc]

lextalioniss​:

Erik let out a laugh - unfettered, easy -  the sort that existed outside the constraints of resentment or contemplation. It was as if her subtle uncertainty had glanced off him, and he continued on without breaking stride. For once, it did not feel like labour - this sort of pretence - instead he found the comfortable familiarity comforting. Could it be considered pretence - he thought - or was it just good compartmentalising? “You make it sound like I’m a feral stray.” His patterns familiar, well-trodden, the outcomes predictable. He prowled these streets like a wounded hound. It wasn’t an unfair comparison. “Well yes, but how is a man supposed to embody the Byronic hero with all this…” he waved his hand vaguely in the general direction of the building, “…flat brownness.” He was not serious, not really, though there was an element of self-awareness in it, tucked into the corners of his lips, a small, private smirk. He sighed, flicking the cigarette away, squinting against the sun as he took out a pocket watch to look at the time. “No matter, I’ll just make sure trouble finds me in a more fashionable part of the city next time.”

He clicked the watch shut, running his thumb against the delicate engravings on its lid - once, twice - as if it were a ritual, and saw Robinson shift to stand in front of him, a tightness to her posture. His head was still lowered as his gaze went up, observing her under his lashes for a moment, like an animal caught doing something it knew it shouldn’t. Regretful only because it had gotten caught. “All that worry Robinson, it’s not good for the heart,” he chided in that same soft, languid drawl his mother employed for when Gladys was being particularly high-strung. It never worked, and he didn’t expect it to work now either, but he knew she’d find the words familiar, maybe annoying even. A slow, nonchalant smirk appeared as he pocketed the watch into the waistcoat. “I’m joking. It’s a line. Please don’t make me dissect it, that makes it lose its charm.” Though it was a lazy mistake - he should’ve known better than to give her something to latch on to right in the middle of his question. “What is actually concerning is that you still take my shit seriously. Concussions pass, all this worry sounds chronic.” 

He was looking down at her, blocking his path, amusement on his face. “Avoidance, avoidance.”, he tutted, a playful, sing-song harmony to his words, before slipping past her. “You could’ve just lied, Robinson. Or tell me to fuck off, which would be fair considering I’m ruining your Saturday. All that act of concern just to avoid a question says a lot.” Not that the specifics really mattered, Erik just found her reluctance and her diligent avoidance curious, delighted by the chance to taunt her. He stopped, spinning around to face her, a hand placed across his heart as if he’d been startled, entirely overdramatised. “You know what had just occurred to me? – I didn’t tell you it had to be you to come get me. Not even my arrogance is vast enough for that.” He raised an eyebrow, amused and unrelenting like a dog with a bone. “I just said competent. Is that it? I am interrupting something - but you came. How sweet. My arrogance is flattered.”

But perhaps he shouldn’t have been so intentionally glib and irritating. He’d made the jokes because he’d assumed no higher purpose to her coming down to the station personally, but now the office was being mentioned and Erik couldn’t help the defeated chuckle that left his lips. “I walked right into that, didn’t I? Bureaucracy.” He’d made the distinction intentionally, as if between the lines one could see the subtext - I’ve been avoiding you because I hate documents, not you. But that wasn’t entirely true either, Erik was just good at handling half-truths. He couldn’t back down now. Play along - unconcerned, lighthearted. “Did I? I thought you burned that, or made a voodoo doll to torture.” The easy way words left his lips and the loose set of his shoulders as he stood in front of her with hands in his pockets was at odds with the measured slowness of her words. Erik pretended not to notice. It’s fine. See? I even joked about it. Let it go. 

He laughed, “No questions? I should hope there would be some at least - Are you nauseous? Do you have double vision? Can you follow my finger? - See? I can practically do it on my own by now.” And he knew all the correct answers. This was particularly useful when one wanted to be left in peace. There was a pause in her words then, as if she might have expected him to object. Erik didn’t want to dwell on the implications of it too much (Should he have objected? Why was this such a big deal?) and so instead he leaned down slightly, voice conspiratorial. “I’m not sure you’re asking the right person. I’m the bloodied one with the split lip. Are you sure that’s not an issue?” This was easy, uncomplicated. But he should’ve known this was leading up to something he couldn’t just twist into a jovial, careless thing. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if defeated, and straightened up with a sigh. “I suppose there’s no point in telling you that I never required those answers when I asked the questions?” When he opened his eyes they were trained on her. He worked his jaw for a moment. “Well since you asked so nicely Robinson, I’ll be amenable today. If you would just relax for two seconds - I’m afraid people will think I have a gun pointed at you.”

...

“Not feral, regimented,” Minerva says pointedly and despite herself. There is no denying she wants a serious conversation, no pushing away the urge tugging at her chest without stopping. This is not something she will allow herself to logic away, not something she will shove in a box and ignore until further notice. She can’t, even if she wanted to, the maelstrom of emotion undeniable even against her usual defenses. Minerva had grown to care about Erik despite herself, grown to care about his regard and his opinion, and built an image of him on her head based on what she had seen of him. Now that image is cracked, and she wants the truth. Wants to find out what lies beyond the shattered painting she had made of the other, wants to understand him, because despite everything, he has been the eye of safety amidst the storm. She has grown to trust him, and now she realizes she has done that without truly knowing him, and that won’t do. She needs to know him. It’s a near desperate need, hidden away beneath a banner of manners and held back by the iron cords that make up her composure.

And yet, despite her desire to approach the heart of the matter, she can’t stop herself. Can’t stop herself from falling back into familiar patterns, yearning for what she had thought was a well-established dynamic, only for it to have been fractured like fragile glass.

“If there is anyone that can embody that ideal on such a dreadful scenario,” she comments, voice pleasant but with a hint of amusement hidden beneath the usual courtesies. “I reckon you would be the one, as you have the characteristics down to a pat,” she admits with the edges of a smile on her lips. “But I would appreciate the change of scenario if you are so inclined.”

Tension leaves her frame as he continues to jest about his supposed concussion, hands leaving her hips as she glances at him suspiciously. It wouldn’t be the first time he chooses to misdirect from his wounds with a joke, but she cannot physically find a concussion so she let’s it go reluctantly.

“It might not be good for the heart, Ashford, but it’s good for me to fulfill my duties,” she mentions dryly, even as she begins to form an actual response to his question, knowing that the teasing will only continue to increase the longer she avoids responding. “Concussions might pass, but they are still dangerous. Checking on them, however, will allow my worry to pass.”

For the time being, at least, for as long as she has before she is called to spring him from a jail cell once more. That train of thought escapes her as he continues digging, and she can’t help but roll her eyes amicably at the insistence. God, but is he irritating in the most amusing of ways.

“It’s not an act,” she near hisses, bothered about all the ways it reminds her of the conversation on the balcony, but even as she speaks she realizes she can’t allow her temper to reign free. Minerva takes a deep breath and sends him a chiding look. “It’s not an act,” she repeats and then grimaces. “But I am using my real concern to avoid the question.”

“Alright, I will be square,” she sighs out, seemingly giving up on her avoidance. “I was invited to have brunch with a sheik, happy?” She grumbles in defeat, even as he continues poking at her words and at his words. There is no stopping once he starts going, and as amusing as it is to see his banter directed to someone else, it is somewhat bothersome to have it directed at her. At least, it is while there is still so much left hanging between the two of them. Yet, she can’t deny the relief that the casualness of the conversation brings for her, even amidst that bother. “Take it as an olive branch, if you will. There was no one else that could be considered competent enough that also happened to be available on a Saturday morning, so I took the task for myself.”

She shrugs, then, at his comment regarding bureaucracy, well aware that there is where their opinions differed. Unlike Erik, she is a creature of bureaucracy, has made it her bread and butter, and she cannot change that.

“You should have expected that sooner or later,” she reminds him, acknowledging the message hidden amidst the words but not quite believing them at this point. She is not quite ready to believe them, not when there is much left untouched from their last conversation. “Please, most of the time I am a professional,” she huffs in mock offense as she eyes him pointedly. “I had them laundered and I was going to sent them your way, but this is more convenient I suppose.”

His next implied message she gets, and she takes a slow measured breath to try to get rid of the lingering awkwardness.

“You know what I mean, Ashford,” she comments pointedly, raising her chin to meet his eyes defiantly as a slow, dark, sharp smile spreads through her lips as she tilts her head just so. It’s a dangerous look, she has been told, one that warns people from getting closer while still pulling them in. The smile of a predator that knows her place on the world, shaky as it is. “And truly, Ashford,” she croons playfully, finally settled enough to fully default into the old patterns. “Vera is my usual companion, without counting the multiple soldatos I have been dealing with lately. You are not the worse by far, rather, I would even dare say you almost look dashing all bloodied up.”

Then, as fast as that bit of courage overcame her, it was gone, as the conversation moved to the difficult topic they had been dancing around.

“You might not have required them, but believe me when I say that I want to answer them,” she says simply, before her lips twitch into a tired smile. “Thank you,” she says, near silent, before, rolling her shoulders to allow the tension to leave her and taking a step to the side to begin their journey. “Shall we?”