#it will really cut down on light pollution near roads too

[durn3h]

I've always wondered why so many governments keep investing tons of money into those stupid solar roadways projects when it makes 0 sense to anyone with a brain, but I just realized that it makes sense why this happens.

More and more funding is going into green energy and more and more people are wanting to see their government taking direct action to do something about green energy. There's money to be spent, but facilities require land that the government in most locations doesn't have, but they do have shittons of roads, so the most hassle free way of producing green electricity is to throw down solar panels in the one place they have complete control of the land, and then they get to claim that they are on the cutting edge of the science to appease their voters

[iepurasdepraf]

I'm posting something, I know....shocking. The first part of likely many. No warnings as of yet. Gender Neutral Reader and Jonathan Crane. No specific one, just my version of him. Well, one of my versions of him. I hope you enjoy.

How did you get talked into this? How did you get here? Playing with the slowly warming steel of an industrial chain from the privacy gate you had to unlock on your way up the drive. Between the jangle of the chain between your fingers and the fight to keep your supper down from the greasy spoon diner you had taken a pit stop at you were in a strange state of near prayer, the links serving as the beads of your impromptu rosary. The only other sound besides the none too gentle roar of the old pickup you were sat in was the constant gnawing of your driver on a splintered toothpick. The mint taste was probably completely leached out by now. You had to wonder how he wasn’t getting splinters in his tongue and gums, but it seemed to help with his anxiety so who were you to wonder too much about it?

The remaining headlight of the Ford cut through the pitch black that had been suddenly dropped on you both like two kittens trapped under a moving box. The smog and light pollution from Gotham choking out the night sky. No stars. No moon. Even the few miles you were outside of her. Sometimes there would be a reflector or two on the edge of the old once gravel now near entirely dirt road and you could catch a glimpse of the silver crowns glinting as they sat atop his crooked greyed teeth in the scant glances you dared to take of him. There wasn’t a pattern to what had been either capped or entirely removed and replaced. The contents of his mouth were like if God threw dice in his mouth and they’d been left where they lay. You’d never seen anyone with grey teeth like his, but it didn’t seem like something polite to ask about. You didn’t want to make him anymore self-conscious than he already was.

How in the hell did you talk HIM into this? Never mind you getting there. That made sense. Sometimes you just got obsessed with stupid shit and did something impulsive. Ending up going ghost hunting wasn’t the most out of pocket thing one could do. But him? How had you talked Jonathan Crane into tagging along? Really, there hadn’t been too much talking him into anything. You’d mentioned it off hand as a way to prove once and for all to him specifically that ghosts were real. You’d written him an email, asking him for his professional opinion on ghosts. Why not, right? It couldn’t have really be his email address you found on that forum page. You hadn’t expected him to even get it, let alone read it and reply. He was the fucking Scarecrow! Who knew why he did. He wasn’t giving any answers. Maybe there simply wasn’t anything else to do in Arkham. Maybe he had just been in a silly goofy mood.

‘I don’t believe in ghosts.’ That simple reply had led to a twice weekly back and forth for months via messenger and email. And it hadn’t taken long for you to grow to enjoy the electronic head butting. Looking forward to that little green dot appearing next to his profile on your friend’s list, that giddy ping of the messenger, of the email notification. Every Monday and Friday, like clockwork. He got an hour on the computer and you two would go back and forth nearly without blinking so as to not waste the milliseconds until his hour was up. If your day was ruined and, God forbid, you happened to miss his message you’d have a small book of an email impatiently waiting on you, no doubt chastising you for your poor time management in the subject column.

Then one day you got a happy little ping on a Wednesday. No one else messaged you that way so it could only be one person. “I’m being released.” Your first phone call with him was breathless and near entirely stammered while he hardly said a thing. He was being released early for good behavior. Seems the model inmate act he’d put on for those precious hours of computer time had paid off in spades. So here he was, ankle monitor and all, next to you in his old hunk of junk pickup that he’d given you the money to get out of the impound for him the day of his release. The day you’d met in person for the very first time. The day you agreed to prove ghosts were real to him while you drove him to his group home while he clutched all his remaining worldly possessions in a brown paper bag. He had nothing and you’d wanted to give him a reason to wake up in the morning. You’d wanted to make sure he knew he had a friend. Good lord, where had that gotten you? After the adrenaline wore off you were left drenched in sweat and maybe some tears alone in your apartment after you’d gotten an Uber back not knowing if you’d wake up in the morning or what because you’d never actually thought about what you were saying. It never occurred to you he’d get out. That he’d want to actually meet you.

You shiver and snap out of your mental oubliette, getting Crane’s attention on accident. “You alright, pumpkin?” His voice was low and wispy. Nearly hadn’t heard the question over the truck at all. He was making a point to speak gently. Likely so he didn’t spook you, ironically. You’d looked him up on Youtube. Listened to some of his old interviews and lectures. You knew how he sounded and the way he’d always spoken to you wasn’t what he sounded like. Not even slightly. You weren’t entirely sure if the softer tone was worse or better for your frayed nerves.

“Yeah!” You assured with a quick smile “Just zoned out.” His eyebrows arched slightly. “Saw you shiver. Not too cold, are you?” You shake your head “No, no, no. I’m okay. I promise.” He gives you a glance of a look then his eyes are back on the road. Hming slightly before saying “Alright.” and not pressing further. You actually were freezing, but this was the first time he’d been able to enjoy ac in God knows how long so you weren’t about to take that from him, especially after looking into Arkham on your own and seeing how completely miserable it was.

As you tried not to let your mind dwell on him calling you pumpkin you went back to fiddling with the chain. It was harder than it should have been because he’d said it all soft and sweet. No. Stop that right now. You’re not a hybristophiliac. He’d taught you that word. That’s what he thought you were before he read the “funny little email” you’d written. Didn’t help you’d titled it ‘I could use your expertise’. Probably should have ‘I’m here to argue’ or ‘How can you believe in aliens, but not ghosts?’ Well. You wouldn’t have known to name it that at the time, but-

“We’re here.”

You jolted and apparently you weren’t just there, but you’d been there for a while because the truck was off and he was just sitting there looking at you with his hands folded neatly over his tummy. Amused. So deeply amused by you and wherever your head was that obviously wasn’t beside him. He didn’t ask again if you were alright. He just waited quietly to see what you’d do next. Like a cat watching a fish in a bowl or at least that’s how it felt. You could nearly make out those hazel eyes in the darkness of the cab of the truck, even with their color tainted by the glow of the dashboard lights.

“Ah..hm.” You let go of the chain and let it clank to the floorboard with it’s padlock to put your hand on the slightly out of place handle “Let’s get this bread!” You…fucking idiot. Why did you say that? What’s wrong with you? He didn’t react at all which didn’t make it worse, but didn’t make it better either. What did make it worse was when you went to push the door open it only opened slightly with a loud shunk. Leaving you sitting there for a minute with wide eyes. You looked back at him and gave a nervous laugh then started jiggling the handle, but it wouldn’t open anymore than it was. Fuck. Then you had the second fright of your life when his long-fingered hand slowly crept into your peripheral vision. You might have yelped. You did. Don’t pretend you didn’t, especially to yourself. You’ll look crazy.

He eased into your space, closer than he’d ever been before. A few locks on his auburn hair spilling onto your shoulder because as lithe as he was naturally, he was still reaching across the cab of a large truck. Crane took hold of the lock latch and plucked it up, unlocking the door for you, then sat back. Making a little motion with his hand for you to go on. “Aha, ah…thank you.” You hurried out of the car knowing if you lived long enough, you’d be thinking about every second of that dorkass event with shame that would keep you up for years to come. The night couldn’t get worse…

Could it?

[ananicoleta]

Together Again

(A Space Jam 2 FanFiction)

Ok, so I imagine that after Bugs "died" in Space Jam 2, he didn't show up immediately. Instead, there were needed a few days for him to reappear, time during which the Looney Tunes thought he was dead. This fic shows their thoughts during that time, as well as a surprise at the end.

Enjoy!

WARNING: angst + kinda long

Daffy crept around the forest, always looking over his shoulder to make sure no one had followed or seen him. Not that it was very likely to happen. None of the Looney Tunes paid that much attention to anyone or anything anymore, so his absence would probabpy go unnoticed. All of them - him included - were trapped in their own thoughts and regrets, and the outside world just didn't matter anymore. The dynamic, the jokes, the atmosphere weren't - couldn't - be the same. Not ever since Bugs had...

Shaking his head, the duck snapped out of the thought that threatened to cloud his mind with pain and fog his eyes with tears. He had promised himself he won't let that happened. Just focus on the road, Daffy. You're almost there.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he reached his destination. The glade he knew so well looked just the way it did when he had left. The fresh grass, wet from the rain, shone into the sunlight as if it was made of cristal. The lively river cut its path through the strong rocks, running like a carefree child, while the birds happily sang their lovely tune.

Right in the middle of the glade, stood the well-known oak tree, tall as always, like a nobleman, proudly wearing its green attire. On the trunk, there could be spotted a poster that read: Duck Season. That was what Daffy was looking for.

He walked quietly towards it, still paranoic that someone might be there and see him. They for sure would ask him what was he doing and, honestly, he didn't know either. All he knew was that if he stayed one more minute alone in his house, trying to not think about Bugs, while automatically thinking about Bugs and missing him dearly, he'd go insane. He needed to feel the taste of their old game again, even if he had to play it all by himself.

Standing near the tree, he took a deep breath and began.

"Wabbit stheason!" He said, ripping the Duck Season poster.

Then, moving to the side opposite to him, he said in a quite accurate Bugs Bunny impression.

"Duck season!"

After, Daffy moved to the other side again and repeated the procedure. This went on for a while and it was, surprisingly, relaxing. It took his mind off of things and if he pretended hard enough, he could actually see and hear Bugs...

"Daffy?"

The duck slipped and fell right in the pile of posters that he had torn. When he lifted his head, he saw none other than Elmer Fudd, looking down at him, confused. He wore his usual clothes, complete with the hat and hunting gun.

"Didn't your mother tell you it wasth rude to sthcare people?" Daffy snapped, getting back on his feet.

"Sowwy, didn't mean to cweep up on you, duck." Elmer said apologetically. Then, peeking at the pile of sheets behind Daffy, he asked.

"Uh, what were you doing hewe?"

"I could ask you the sthame question." Daffy responded, not wanting to explain himself.

Elmer sighed and sat on the grass, his expression turning sad. In that moment, Daffy realised that the reason the hunter decided to come in this specific glade was the same as his.

Sighing as well, the duck sat down near his friend, feeling the depression taking control of him again. None of them spoke for a few minutes. They just sat there in silence, listening to the forest's whispers that seemed to mourn as well, as if it could feel someone was absent.

"You miss him as well, don't you?" Daffy asked after a while.

Elmer nodded. "I nevew thought I would miss him so much. He always annoyed me, always made me cuwse him. Now, though, I would give anything to heaw him again, to do pway 'Wabbit Season! Duck Season! Fiwe' just one mowe time..."

Elmer let out a stranggled sob and Daffy bit back his tears. If he had known that a few months ago would be the last time he, Elmer and Bugs would go through their hunting routine, he wouldn't have left, no matter what Al-G Rythim would have promised him. He would have listened and stood by the rabbit's side. But he was too selfish, as usual. He wanted to spread his wings, to be the hero of his own story and didn't care when Bugs practically begged them all to not go. And now it was too late. The rabbit was dead and there was nothing he or anyone could do.

Looking over at Elmer, he saw tears falling down his cheeks. Daffy extended his hand and gently wiped them away, ignoring how wet his own eyes were getting.

"Come on, Fuddsey." He said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Let's go home and do something else. There's nothing for us here, anymore. Maybe we can help Granny with that big dinner she wanted to prepare for all of us."

And with that, the two left the glade that held so many happy memories, never looking back, afraid that they might get a glimpse of the past, one that would make them lose their composures completely.

/////////

Porky walked through Tune Town, making his way to Granny's house. He had recieved a message that morning from her that kindly asked him if he wanted to come over and help her make a delicious meal for the family, since cooking alone was a bit depressing.

Although she didn't say it, he could tell from her tone that the reason she wanted him near was so she wouldn't have the opportunity to think about Bugs. Who could blame her? None of them wanted to think of Bugs. And they all tried so hard not to.

The pairs of enemies, like Road Runner and Wile E., Sylvester and Tweety, Foghorn Leghorn and Barnyard, went right back to chasing and teasing each other, though Porky could see the lack of energy and how forced it looked. Toons like Yosemite Sam, Marvin and Speedy were always away, probably somewhere where there was just them alone and their thoughts, where no one could bother them. Then there were the ones like Garnny, himself and occasionaly Pepe Le Pew and Penelope, that tried to cheer them all up, while they themselves were almost dead on the inside.

And it hurt a lot. It hurt to look at their dishearted family, trying to do anything in order to forget, even for a moment, that Bugs was dead. It hurt to feel so powerless to put an end to their pain, to hear them crying their hearts out, knowing that no matter what he said, it won't make a difference. It hurt to see them separated and not wanting to interact with anybody.

This was the main reason Granny had proposed the dinner.

At first, he didn't think it was such a good idea, but then he figured that they couldn't just stay in their houses forever, watching time fly by, grieving their friend. As painful as it was, he knew he had to put it all behind him and accept that they would never see Bugs again. If only they wouldn't have left...

"Hi, Porky." Came a voice from nearby.

Wipping his eyes quickly, Porky greeted his friends as well.

"H-Hi, Da-Da-Daffy. And hello, Elm-Elmer, t-too."

Seeing the black duck and the toon human cheered him up a bit. His family always managed to do that.

"Whe-where you guys o-off t-t-t, uh, going?"

"We thought we might stop at Gwanny's and hewp her with the cooking." Elmer said.

"Oh, re-really? Th-That's great, 'cause I was he-hea-heading there a-as we-we-we, uh, too."

As they walked down the road they continued to chat about this and that, just for the sake of making conversation and not walking in silence. They climbed the hill that led to the valley full of nice, suburban houses, meaning they were almost at Granny's.

When they made it to the top, Porky simply glanced in to the distance... and his heart caught in his throat. Stopping dead in his tracks, causing his other two friends to bump into him, he stared forward convinced that his eyes must be playing tricks on him.

"Hey, what gives, Pig?" An annoyed Daffy asked.

Seeing as Porky didn't answer, they followed his startled gaze, and saw exactly what had caused the pig to react like that.

Down in the valley, right near the entrance of Tune Town, there was a silhouette walking towards the suburbs. It might've been just a trick of the light, or maybe a product of their grief-struck minds, but the creature (that also appeared to have grey fur and long ears) looked an awful lot like...

"BUGS!" Daffy shouted and before one of them could do something, the duck broke into a run, all while screaming the rabbit's name at the top of his lungs.

The silhouette also started running, and in less than ten seconds, the two crashed, warping their arms around each other in a tight hug.

At that moment, Porky felt an uncontrolable smile spread across his face. All the negative feelings that had polluted his mind until then, evaporated. Instead, his heart swelled with pure and utter happiness. He also heard Elmer repeating over and over, excitedly:

"He's awive! Gwacious, he's awive!"

Letting out a joyous laugh, both of them ran as fast as they could, to hug their brothers.

Behind them, the rest of the family, that had probably heard the noise and came to see what was happening, shouted with surprise and glee, and ran right after them.

Slowly, one by one, every Looney Tune joined them in a giant, family hug that warmed their hearts and casted off their sadness.

Finally, they were all together again, and they were never ever separating.

[fandom-space-princess]

All In Your Head

Characters: Sam Winchester & Gadreel (minor Dean Winchester, Castiel, Abaddon, Crowley, Kevin Tran) Rating: T, gen Length: 3.8k

---------------

Lots of things have made a home of my body without caring whether it was built for it, he thinks, slow, pointed. And most of them have claimed to be pure.

Sam's memory is full of holes, his thoughts are feeling less like his own by the day, and his injuries are vanishing almost faster than he can track. Since he failed to complete the trials, his body may be home, but it certainly isn't feeling homey.

(Canon divergence for the beginning of Season 9: what if Sam figured out Gadreel was possessing him on his own? How would he feel about it?)

---------------

read below the cut, or on AO3

Infection engages all the senses. Get sloppy cleaning a stab wound, or forget to sterilize a needle before giving yourself stitches, then wait and see: soon enough, streaks begin to creep across the skin. Even as it closes, the flesh swells red and purple—or, worse, blue and green. Fire smoldering low, site of what should be healing fever-hot to the touch (and even the flames of Hell burn cleaner than this). Let it get bad enough and it becomes possible to smell it, to taste it on the air: rot, sweet and cloying, a tang slick as blood at the back of the throat and thick in the sinuses. A body consuming itself from the inside out, desperate to expel that which isn’t a part of it. That which, by rights, has no place in it.

Sam thinks he can even hear it, near the end. Watching the floor rush up to bruising communion with his knees, digging splinters into his palms, he isn’t sure if the ringing in his ears is some bell-tower ghost trapped in that derelict chapel, or just the sound of holy fire finally burning all the way through to his heart.

----------

Light chasing across his eyelids. Are those—stars? Rushing too fast, too regular, glimmering through his eyelashes and he swims up toward wakefulness—

—not stars at all. Headlights reflecting off blurry mile markers. He squints. Highway 70. Somewhere flat, vaguely rural. City off on the horizon, light pollution spilling up to wash the low clouds in ghostly purple.

His eyes hurt. It’s the first thing he notices, once he’s aware enough to start taking inventory of his aches. Bands of tension at his temples, across his forehead—hell, even the back of his neck. Reminiscent of those nights spent staring unblinking at his laptop screen in darkened motel rooms, researching until the sun came up. That particular pain of looking into a bright light for far too long.

“Where are we?” He groans, rubbing at his eyes.

“Whoa, hey, take it easy. You ok?” Dean’s voice is concerned, all careful skittish focus on Sam’s sudden consciousness. Sam almost does a double-take, almost snaps at him to watch the road. Almost.

something awful, something unnatural, rattling the bars of his chest from the inside, shredding his ribs and biting venom into his lungs

His head hazes with half-formed visions, nebulous and vagrant as mist.

slumped against the car in the mud, rain in his eyes and the sky raining down on them, and... are those... stars?

Dean’s still looking at him. Sam has seen him gaze with more welcome on ghosts. He shakes his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. “I’m... uh. Fine, I guess. Tired. Feels like I slept for a week.” One hand creeps up to his neck, massaging the muscles there.

His brother grunts. “Try a day. You’ve been out since the church last night. Since the sky started spittin’ angels.”

Right. Falling stars. Guess not. “What the hell happened?”

Dean’s eyes jump back to him, then resettle fitfully on the road. “What do you remember?”

And that’s the problem, really. Memory.

Or rather, the empty places where memory should be.

----------

Somewhere between Terre Haute and St. Louis, the sun rises. They pull off the interstate into an abandoned park, some blip on the map between Nowhere and Nothing. A place to stretch their legs and wolf down stale gas station sandwiches.

Standing feels strange. Like he shouldn’t be doing it. He bends his knees, flexes his shoulders, rolls his arms above his head. Twenty-four hours ago this would’ve hurt like hell. His body had been caught between continuous bruise and cauterized wound, burning in a conflagration of his own design.

Dean watches him, out of the corners of his eyes. Sam keeps catching him doing it. After the first few times, he gets subtler about it (he’s always been subtler than Dean). Studies his brother in return. He’s shifty and shifting, all nervous energy and fidgeting tells. He’s working through something, and Sam knows what that looks like. Knows he should prod. Knows how far that’s likely to get him, as well.

He stays quiet, and listens to the thud of his own pulse.

Or maybe it’s Crowley, rolling around in the trunk. Hard to say. That one had come as a surprise.

(was it so surprising? why let go of what he can use? )

Slouched in the passenger seat, he catches sight of his face in the mirror. Hair greasy, dirt and dried blood still clinging to his scalp, caked along the edge of his collar: he’s looked better. But... he presses the tips of his fingers to the darkened skin under his right eye. Skims them along the cut that trails across his cheekbone.

It’s almost gone.

Still scabbed over at the end where the glass had dug deepest, sure. He frowns, and the muscle underneath pulls a little, complaining at the movement. But only a little. He prods harder, feeling for the telltale sting of glass shards, finding nothing. Just over a day since he’d been thrown through a window by Abaddon, yet his wounds are almost gone. This one probably won’t even leave a scar. And that feels... wrong. Of the two of them, Dean walks off wounds like they’re nothing. Sam’s not one to wilt, of course, and he’s tanked his way through more hits that should’ve been fatal than he cares to think about, but he’s always been slower to heal, to need to retreat for recuperation. Yet here he is, body mending itself with a speed he’s seldom experienced. Walking it off like Dean does. Like Cas does. Like the things they hunt do.

Why question it? Accept good as it comes to you. After what you’ve been through, perhaps you’ve earned it.

In the mirror, he frowns again. Can’t meet his own gaze.

There’s something there he doesn’t understand.

----------

Maybe the bunker’s haunted. Then again, maybe it’s just Kevin.

The kid doesn’t like their demonic houseguest, even chained down in the basement under every ward they know, and Sam can’t say he blames him. Kevin clearly hadn’t been sold on either Sam’s reassurances or Dean’s promise to let him be the one to end the King of Hell, and now he roosts like an infuriated owl at the furthest end of the library, shooting exhausted but withering glares at either of them when they look like they’ll stray too close. He leaves his nest of notes and crumpled wrappers only occasionally, muttering grimly in long-dead languages, pulling books from the dusty shelves with purpose he is either unwilling or unable to explain.

Sometimes Sam will catch him staring down at a page, and know without needing to ask that he is, in that moment, blind. Every nerve attuned to the hum of air and machinery in the bunker. He’s just... listening.

But Crowley never makes a sound that would reach all the way up here. Perhaps it is only that he can hear himself think more clearly, against the gentle whir of antiquated appliances. Or maybe he hears other voices. Voices more inhuman, more undeniably holy.

Sam sits in silence on the floor, just out of sight, on the other side of the door.

Listening, like the prophet, for something he cannot see.

----------

“Abaddon? Seriously, man, what the hell. I thought you Kentucky-fried that meatsuit.”

She’d gone up in a blaze. Holy oil burned sweet and tarry, a nauseating counterpoint to the stink of scorched flesh that clung to his hair for more than a day after he’d regained consciousness. Nothing about his patchwork memories could fake, or forget, that smell. “I did.”

“How’d she get it back?”

I did what I could. am I to blame? did I let you down again, am I responsible for this too?

(You haven’t let anyone down, Sam. Not your brother. Not the world.)

Sam shrugs. “Dunno. Why don’t you ask her next time we see her?”

Dean ignores the inquisitive glances of men in military fatigues as they pass, undeterred in his grumbling. “Oh, trust me. Top of my list. Then I’m gonna chop her friggin’ head off.” He grimaces, brow furrowing. “Again.”

----------

When it comes, the trap is almost a relief. Surviving it, more so—the glaring lack of Abaddon notwithstanding.

At least this time, mulling lost minutes and Dean’s odd sidelong glances from the passenger seat on the long drive home, flashes of half-heard conversation and words he’s never spoken on the tip of his tongue, he can almost convince himself it’s just a concussion.

----------

Dried blood under Sam’s fingernails. Ring and middle finger, under the outside corners of the nail, right hand. Down under the deepest part, where it’s always been hardest to scrub.

Irv. Irv’s blood. Must be. You moved his body, lifted it onto the pyre yourself.

Irv had long since stopped bleeding by the time Sam picked him up. Shoulders loose under his hands, rough green jacket deep red in front, worse in the back where he’d bled out but—no. No, that would’ve stained his palms, his clothes. Sam would remember washing that clean. If he’d had to.

But he hadn’t.

And they’d torched the demonic vessels with the bar. Arson covered over a wealth of greater sins.

whose blood is this? why can’t I remember?

His body, whole now, unmarred for the first time in months, offers no answers. Certainly it isn’t his. He turns his wrist upright on the desk. Traces the point of a fingernail along purple-blue pathways beneath the skin. There had been a moment, he thinks, in that bar as he stirred back to awareness, when Dean had looked at him like—

Like he was expecting someone else.

He feels jumpy. Not unwell, exactly; in fact he feels better physically than he has any right to do. But he has done nothing to earn this wellness, doesn’t trust it. Pain would be better, after what he’s been through. Injury, he’s at home with. Infection—that would make sense.

Anything but this half-formed sensation of being a ghost in his own skin, with a memory he can’t trust and blood under his fingernails that he can’t identify.

Dean’s blood, perhaps. His internal monologue is grasping at increasingly desperate straws. Or Irv’s after all. Would you remember? You’ve been forgetting so much, since the trials.

Since that monumental striving for redemption. Since that last-ditch attempt at salvation, at proving himself worthy. At making himself pure.

The difference between purity and poison is one of scale, not of kind. Purity muddies the senses, creeps along the veins like rot; something bad in the blood. Offering himself to the trials was an exercise in inviting purity into himself, and nothing had ever felt so much like an infection. He’d purged himself of what was human to make space for what was sacred—and just that word: sacred. That was the problem, wasn’t it? To be a sacrifice, a body must first be filled with what is sacred. A lesson he’d learned once, long ago, the hard way: Lucifer was nothing if not sacred. And he hadn’t belonged in Sam’s body, either, no matter how much he insisted that they were made for it. Lucifer had burned so pure he’d almost consumed them both.

Sam picks his head up. Takes a deep breath. For the first time in days, he turns his eyes to the mirror above the sink.

how long has it been since that fight? The skin on his cheek is smooth; as predicted, no scar. Not even a faint pigmentation to show the recent healing. His reflection stares back at him, pale, eyes crinkled in concern but otherwise whole, hale. how long should that have taken?

His thoughts barely sound like his own. What are you so afraid of, Sam? What is it about being whole that you fear?

Purity never cared if your body was built to be a home to it. And mostly, human bodies aren’t. Sam’s is, sort of—more than most—but he’s not celestial in the way Lucifer kept insisting. Not some angelic beacon of purity. Sam is a man, flesh and blood built to house not light, but a human soul, and all the necessary mortal mess that comes with it—the blemishes, the cracks, the essential imperfections that, totaled together, make up a human life. He examines his reflection, hunting for—what, exactly?

lots of things have made a home of my body without caring whether it was built for it, he thinks, slow, pointed. and most of them have claimed to be pure.

----------

Dean’s lying to him.

Tonal shifts midsentence, a skipped needle on the record of his awareness. One instant his brother is annoyed, the next—alarmed, skeptical, different one word to the next. There are other things: guilty looks, missing moments. Whatever he’s been worrying behind his teeth since the angels fell is getting worse, not better, and Sam knows he should ask about it. But... he knows, too, how fragile their current peace is. Sam’s fickle memory has not seen fit to unburden him of those last minutes before unconsciousness had claimed him, on the muddy ground outside that run-down church, and his confession to Dean and his brother’s answering resolution are still raw. He wants to be what Dean believes him to be, wants their relationship to be one of mutual and rewarded trust.

Perhaps you have misjudged. What would he have to lie to you about?

Sam wrinkles his nose, twists his lips in what, under other circumstances, might be a smirk. you tell me.

----------

There had been light. He wants so badly to be wrong about this (knows, deep down, he isn’t wrong about this). Wants, more than anything, for this to be another trick of his fragmented and echoing thoughts, a failing of his mind and not... but Cas is in the back seat, miraculously unharmed. Dean’s stammered explanation of double-crossed reapers and hastily bargained resurrections be damned, Sam was certain of this one thing:

His hand, over Cas’s unmoving chest. Wounds stitching closed beneath his palm.

And a light that he’s seen before.

----------

How do you forget an earthquake? Seismic events don’t happen between blinks. And yet, Castiel’s expression has gone from structure and hope to rubble and shock in the moment it took Sam to look away. Dean’s posture holds fault lines, fading tremors, betrayal.

no, Sam thinks, in disbelief. He grasps for the place where memory should be, comes up with only blank distress. I won’t accept this.

“Cas!” He shakes his head hard, strides after the already-retreating angel.

(Sam, let it lie. Please. The taste of bile at the back of his throat. But nothing like the madness of purity; this desperation is far too messy. Far too human.

He would laugh about that, if he could laugh without choking.)

His hand lands hard on Castiel’s shoulder, and his friend’s eyes are wide. For all his time spent with Sam and Dean, he hasn’t learned the human conceit of shuttering his expression, burying his pain. Sam hopes, fervently, that he never takes this lesson from them.

“Cas, wait,” Sam begs, words measured. “Please stay. This isn’t—give us a few minutes? Something isn’t right.” He takes a deep breath, exhales through his nose. “And I don’t think you leaving is the solution. I think it’ll just make it worse.”

Castiel looks over Sam’s shoulder, brow furrowed into a frown. Whatever he sees on Dean’s face, when he turns back to Sam, his expression is no less stormy. “I don’t understand. Are you sure?”

(The anxiety in his head is a wordless hum, now, and not his own. He forces his breathing to slow: in and out, long pause, in and out. Ignores how close he feels to shaking apart. Very carefully directing the thought to nothing in particular: whatever problem this is, we’re finding a better way to solve it.

No response. He didn’t really expect one. But the fear subsides, and that’s something. One thing at a time.)

“I’m sure,” he replies. “Dean and I need to talk. Just—go find Kevin. Let him know you’re here.”

Castiel studies his face intently. After a moment, Sam feels the muscles in his shoulder relax under his hand. He nods, and drifts away, turning the corner into the hallway and vanishing deeper into the bunker.

Dean reaches out to him, unsure. He starts, “Sam—”

“Don’t,” Sam cuts him off. Levels a glare at his brother. “I don’t want to hear it. Not yet.”

Dean’s mouth snaps shut.

“Wait here.”

He turns on his heel, leaving Dean, pale and speechless, behind him.

----------

He does not slam the door. Instead he clicks it shut, deliberately; every movement precise. Tightly controlled. When he turns to the sink, grasps the sides of it until his knuckles whiten and meets his own eyes steady and determined in the mirror, this too is unhurried.

He doesn’t blink. He simply waits.

His reflection blinks first.

“Who are you?” Sam grits out from clenched jaws.

I mean you no harm, the Sam in the mirror replies; for all that the voice is in his head, the otherwise mundanity of the moment is jarring. The creature in the mirror—in his head—doesn't feel hostile. Placating, if anything. I’m here to help you, to heal you and myself. Your well-being is my primary concern, Sam Winchester. I wish only to be of assistance.

“How?”

Your brother. Though I believe you suspected as much already.

A breath hisses out of him, between his teeth. He nods, once. Slow. Precise. Controlled.

“You’re an angel.” Not a question.

I am.

“You're the reason for the—the gaps. In my memories.” The words taste poisonous across his tongue. “You healed Cas. Are you the reason he’s leaving?”

I... am, yes.

“So you have something to hide.”

The creature in the mirror inclines its head minutely. I am unwelcome, among my own kind. Were they to find me here, in their search for my brother, the outcome would be unpleasant for us all. I believed having Castiel depart to be the safest course of action.

“Does Dean know that? Any of it?”

The angel frowns. I was less than honest with your brother about my identity. He believes me to be someone of... far greater esteem.

Sam’s eyes remain locked on the mirror. An odd sensation, to see your reflection unable to meet your own gaze. A paranoia crawls over him, a feeling of existing apart from his body, being outside looking in. He bites the inside of his lip, then his cheek; harder than he means to, but the sting and the copper tang of blood calm and center him. This pain is still his, then. This much of him is still within his control.

“Why are you doing this?”

The creature in the mirror does meet his eyes, then. You almost killed yourself trying to atone for who you are—for what’s been done to you, been made of you. Trying to make yourself worthy getting past sins that were never yours. Not really. It frowns, thoughtful. I can relate, and I admire your drive. I wish to believe I, too, am capable of such.

“You’re looking for—what? Absolution? Redemption? What did you do ?”

I trusted. The angel looks uncomfortable. I was what others required me to be.

“And yet you expect me to trust you.” Sam laughs, a cracking mirthless chuckle. “Lying for your redemption. This—” He gestures between them. “This is a violation. You get that, right? So what else will you do for it?”

The Sam in the mirror leans back a fraction, though he himself remains unmoving. The angel’s shoulders slouch, his body curving in on itself in a shockingly human display. Sam is startled to recognize that expression, has seen it on himself before, times beyond counting; the emotion that has settled over this creature like a cloak—it's remorse.

I understand. I wish I had something more to offer you, in exchange for your trust. The angel’s gaze skitters away again. Unfortunately, what has been made of me has left me decidedly less worthy than the being I once was. I wish to heal you. I wish to help. That is all I have to give.

He can feel the weight of possession, now that he’s allowed himself to acknowledge it for what it is. Can sense the shape of the angel, its emotions, its intent. The thing in his head is old—old in the way Lucifer had been old—but where Lucifer had cauterized everywhere he touched with cold-burning light, with purpose, this creature is altogether different. Its edges are crackly with tension, the bulk of it twined through with what can only be regret. The entirety of it held together under the thinnest veneer of brittle hope.

Sam is acquainted with the intimacies of angelic possession. This thing, though—this cracked, imperfect mess—well, it feels a lot more like human than he’d have guessed.

Certainly it doesn’t feel pure.

“Ok,” he says. The angel’s eyes snap back to his. He shivers, but holds its gaze. “Provisionally—” He raises one eyebrow, mouth set into a grim line. “—provisionally, you can stay.”

The angel’s eyes widen. It blinks, then tips its head in deference. Unexpected. It pauses. Then, quieter: Thank you.

They stare at each other for another moment, neither quite sure what the next step is meant to be. Sam feels as though he’s easing away from the lip of a canyon, a cliff upon which he’d been millimeters from the edge, and he’s not entirely convinced he won’t still end up throwing himself over.

Well, Sam Winchester, his companion finally says. In what way would you like me to be of help?

“You can start,” he replies, “by telling me your name.”

The angel smiles, small and rueful. It will inspire no love in any who would recognize it, but it may be of some use to you yet, I suppose. Gadreel. My name is Gadreel.

Sam steps back from the mirror. Even without the reflection, he has a sense of the angel—Gadreel—at the corners of his eyes, as though he would see him were he to simply turn his head. A deep breath, settling himself; then he turns, and reaches toward the door.

“Gadreel. We’re going to go have a talk with Dean, and then... then we’ll see. No promises, but. Well. We’ll see.”

The fear, the anger: these aren’t gone. They’ve sunken down into a dull simmer, somewhere underneath the angel starting to relax into the back of his mind. But they feel less like an infection, now. He steels himself for a fight with Dean (probably the first of many, in the days to come), and he reflects that of the many things he cannot be, it seems that he cannot—will never be—pure.

But perhaps, he thinks, there are things more worthwhile than purity.

[alexboehm55144]

Alex Final Wars 2: Dark Alex, Chapter 39 - Before The Storm

"So what did you guys get out of the stuff we pulled from that Chinese base? One that was apparently supposed to be impenetrable." Nick asked before muttering to himself. "Heh, they were no match for this sly fox."

"We went to hell and back to get that stuff," Judy said.

"Thing is… we don't know yet," Jack responded. "There was a lot of information on those maps and papers you guys pulled. It will take time for the eggheads to go through it all."

"I have to say I really respect the analysts," Skye noted. "I mean, how much stuff have they looked at from just Heroes alone?"

The four mammals were sitting in Jack and Skye's Aston Martin as they drove through the busy Zootopian streets. Nick and Judy were in the back seats while the two ZIA agents sat upfront. All around the car, mammals moved and went about their business as the city entered the evening. Most mammals were probably heading home as the sky began to dim. While others were getting ready for a night on the town.

"You guys over at Heroes have recovered a ton of intelligence throughout this war." Jack said, "Servers, documents, maps. Knowledge is power."

"Yeah, that is true," Judy responded. "I can't believe how much action we've seen. This is a lot more than a normal day at the ZPD."

"Hey, sometimes things are pretty action-packed at the ZPD," Nick said. "There's a lot of dangerous crooks and thieves out there. Though none of them as crafty and talented as this sly fox."

This got a chuckle out of Judy.

"And here we are!" Jack said.

The car pulled into a parking lot of a one-story building with Japanese architecture. The walls were made of white-colored stone with wooden support pillars, covered by a pagoda-style roof made of matte green tiles. Mounted on the front wall was a red and white light-up sign that said:

"Tanukchi, Japanese Grill."

"Well, we'll certainly be eating good tonight!" Nick said, the four mammals stepping out of the car.

"Isn't this place pretty high-end?" Skye asked. "How did you get a reservation?"

"Well… heh…" a slightly mischievous look crossed Judy's face. "I may have let it slip that we were brave ZPD officers, and you two were selfless ZIA agents."

"Clever bunny," Nick said.

"And… I may have also mentioned that we were war heroes."

Sky and Jack laughed.

"Well, at least you got us a nice dinner," Jack said before the group headed inside the restaurant.

Inside the building, the walls were made of wood and paper, resembling traditional Japanese walls. However, there were also support pillars made of marble-like, red-colored rock with messy streaks of white running through it. A short distance from the two glass doors was a desk made out of bamboo, behind which was a fish tank teeming with aquatic life. The entire restaurant was filled with the sounds of people chatting and the metal clang of cooking equipment being used.

"Reservation for Hopps," Judy said to the fox behind the desk, prompting the mammal to check her computer.

"Hopps…. Ah! Right, this way!" The fox said, grabbing four menus and leading the two couples into the dining area. There were 4 grills, 2 for smaller mammals, 2 for larger mammals, set up in the dining area, each surrounded by stained wooden chairs. Above each grill was a vent to the outside. On the walls of the room were paintings of trees and natural landscapes.

The waitress handed out menus as the group sat down at a grill for smaller mammals. "Would you like to order your drinks now?"

Nick got a soda while Jack went for an ice tea. Judy had carrot juice, and Skye got water. The fox waitress left to get their drinks and appetizers.

"You know, it kind of surprises me how quickly life has got back to normal here," Skye said. The fox looked around at the families and groups laughing and enjoying their meals. "You would never have thought that a short time ago, this city was under assault by the Chinese military."

"I know," Judy said. "It's almost like a distant memory to everyone. But I suppose they're just looking ahead towards a brighter future."

"And the future is bright," Jack said. "We're really pressing hard on the PLA now. But regarding what you said, there are plans to make a memorial to commemorate the Chinese attacks on the city. The full-scale assault, the airship strike, and the concert."

"Well, I hope that helps the citizens of Zootopia remember what happened. And that we must be vigilant against those who want to hurt us."

"Hmm… well, we should get some fried rice," Nick said, perusing over the menu.

"Heh, thinking with your stomach, I see." Judy chuckled.

"I agree," Jack responded. "let's get some fried rice."

The waitress returned with drinks, as well as salads and miso soups for everyone. She also took their orders for meals.

"A chef will be with you shortly."

The waitress left, and the group began to enjoy their appetizers.

"Wow, this is really good," Jack said, trying the salad.

"Hopps told me this place is highly rated," Nick said, sipping the soup. "You did a good job getting us this reservation."

"I agree." Skye said, "thank you, Judy."

Judy smiled "aww, guys are too sweet."

A few moments later, a tanuki wearing a traditional chef's uniform came over to the grill with a small cart of ingredients and tools.

"Hello! Welcome!" The chef said, going over the group's order. "Let's get started!"

The tanuki started up the grill and began to cook the various vegetables for the fried rice. Skye took out her phone and captured the exciting moment in a video while the chef performed tricks. He spun his spatula and tools around in his hand and juggled an egg for the rice.  

The chef then set up an onion volcano, filled it with edible oils, and lit it on fire. A tower of flame shot out of the small volcano, eliciting gasps from the officers and agents watching the show.

"Dinner and a show," Skye said.

The tanuki chef finished the fried rice, taking a small portion of the rice on his spatula and launching it in the air towards Jack. The rabbit opened his mouth to catch it, but it just bounced off his nose onto the floor.

The chef tried again, & this time Jack caught the portion of rice in his mouth. All the while, the other mammals laughed and watched the spectacle.

The tanuki then launched a portion of rice at Nick, who managed to catch it in his mouth on the first try.

Judy laughed clapped a little as Nick looked smug that he got it first try.

"We should hang out more often," Jack said as the chef began to serve the fried rice.

"I agree. It's just that we've been busy lately." Nick chimed in. "But when the four of us hang out, it's always fun."

000

"Come on, Toothdee, you'll enjoy it!" Laval said. "Arcades are fun. Although in Chima the arcades are usually less tech-savvy… but… same principles apply."

"I don't know…." Toothdee said, looking over some maps and papers in her room. "The end of this war is in sight, and I want to focus on my work so we can make the final decisive push to end this conflict once and for all."

"Hey, we've got them on the backfoot." Eris said, "besides, we're on shore leave right now. It's not the time to work. It's time to rest and recuperate."

"Yeah, you can't just keep fighting constantly. Evening though I do think that would be fun, you'll get worn out." Laval noted.

"Oh, alright, fine." The Heroes commander said, getting up from her desk and grabbing her phone and wallet. "Let's go."

"Great!" Eris said. "Laval spotted a place just down the road, within walking distance."

"Well, lead the way, Laval."

The trio left the typhoon and headed out of the guarded compound where the airship landed. The landing zone was in the city, giving Heroes good access to any part of Zootopia they needed to reach in the event of an emergency.

However it was not right in the center of the city, instead situated near the airport. This was to avoid buildings acting as flying obstructions and to cut down on noise pollution.

"You guys really love exploring Zootopia, don't you? Getting out and seeing the sights." Toothdee said as they walked.

"Totally!" Eris said. "It's a gorgeous city. I can see why Nick and Judy love it here."

"Yeah, I love exploring, so it's great to get a whole new city to explore!"

After a few minutes of walking, the group arrived at a building with big glass windows and a bright blue sign that said "arcade" on the front.

The inside of the building was dark, lit mainly through light from gaming machines. The air was filled with the sounds of said machines. Various boops and chimes were used to attract customer's attention. The floor was covered in a dark blue carpet, and a tired-looking mountain lion sat at a desk near the door.

The trio walked over to the desk, and the mountain lion didn't flinch upon seeing an evolved eagle.

"Hi, can we each get a card with $30 on it, please?" Toothdee said, "that seems reasonable, right?"

"Works for me," Eris said.

Each member of the group took out the required money and placed it on the counter. The cashier nodded and quickly transferred the money to 3 plastic cards that could be used to purchase games from the machines.

"Thank you," Laval said, the group heading towards the machines.

"What are you going to play first?" Toothdee asked.

"Uh… hm, well, I've seen this before," Laval said, walking over to a skeeball machine. "Now Chima does have games like this."

"I'll play against you!" Eris said, standing in front of a second Skee-ball device next to Laval.

"Alright! Your on!"

The couple slid their cards through readers on the machines, and balls were dispensed in return. As the two started rolling the hard plastic skeeballs down the length of the device, Toothdee went to examine some other games.

She spotted an arcade game with a large screen, and fake plastic guns hooked up to it. Across the top of the machine were the words "Terminator" along with a scary-looking robot head. Toothdee went over to the arcade machine and paid for a game before picking up one of the weapons. She could also keep her skills sharp while having fun.

The young warrior selected a level and began. Terminator robots appeared on screen and engaged. But toothdee fired the toy weapon at the screen, and the terminators in-game were struck down by gunfire.

As her character continued to move through the game world, gunning down robots, toothdee heard Laval and Eris behind her.

"Yes!" The eagle said. "I win! Don't worry, I know you let me win on purpose."

"I thought YOU were going to let ME win." Laval chuckled.

The pair came over to watch Toothdee, who continued to gun down terminators, even as her own player character took damage. Eventually, a game over screen appeared, and toothdee put the plastic toy gun back down on the machine.

"You know what's funny is most of the stuff here we can do for real," Laval said. "That motorcycle racing game over there? I can just hop on my speedor. That game you were playing where you shoot robots? You could just get a gun and charge into battle!"

"Heh, well, why don't you do that then?" Toothdee asked.

"Well, fighting can be fun. But it's nice just to do it… what's the word I'm looking for… Fictitiously! Without any worries, where you just have to get points."

"Alright, I can understand that. Now, what do you want to play next?" Toothdee said, turning towards the rows of game cabinets. "You guys were right. It is good to get out and relax once in a while."

000

Haida looked at a map on his phone and struggled to figure out where he was in relation to the roads and structures on the map.

"I'm telling you it's this way," Fabienne said, pointing down a roadway. "Trust me, I know this city."

"But it looks like it's this way on the map!" Haida said, pointing down a different street."

"It's not! Your just looking at it wrong!"

"Retsuko, what do you think?"

The red panda, who had been patiently watching the two argue, looked at Haida's phone. The hyena smirked, expecting his girlfriend to agree with him. Plus, he was pretty confident his examination of the map was correct.

"Hmmm…." Retsuko said, "I think Fabienne is right."

Haida's jaw dropped while Fabienne smirked.

"Alright then, this way."

The snow leopard started walking down the street, Haida and Retsuko in tow.

Haida looked a bit down that he was wrong, but Retsuko gave him a playful jab to cheer him up.

Eventually, the group arrived at a large stone building situated by the coast. The American flag was flying on a pole outside. There was a large wooden sign reading "Zootopia World War 2 Museum."

"Told you," Fabienne said.

The trio went inside, where a bunny attendant was waiting in a booth near the entrance.

"Hi! 3 please, general admission." Retsuko said.

The trio paid for their tickets and entered the museum, which was not very crowded. The rooms were filled with equipment, posters, flags, pictures, all from the Second World War.

Pictures of troopers in combat. Guns those soldiers would have used. Maps of the battle formations they would have been in.

Retsuko and Haida went over to a giant wall of black marble. Upon which were carved the names of soldiers from Zootopia who had distinguished themselves in combat during WW2. Above the wall was a black and white mural of US Soldiers of many different species.

Fabienne was busy looking at an exhibit about war correspondents during the Second World War. There was an old camera on display, articles published by war reporters, and photographs of correspondents. This sort of thing was right up her alley.

"It's amazing how much we've progressed," Fabienne said, looking at old photography equipment. She spotted an old camera that was a lot bigger than her phone and probably could only photograph in black and white.

The snow leopard moved on to a small exhibit that contained mannequins of different mammals in combat gear. There was a small video screen playing a video comparing the biological system of various mammals as soldiers.

"Humans make the best soldiers." Said a disembodied voice on the video, as the picture changed to show a human soldier on a long trek in the desert. "They have unmatched endurance and survival skills. Not to mention their skills in combat have been continuously refined and improved over millennia, in the many wars and battles fought by humans."

"Maybe that's why a human is the leader of Heroes," Fabienne asked herself.

"This does not mean other species are incapable of waging war. Many other types of mammals serve in specialist roles."

A picture of a Russian polar bear in arctic camouflage appeared on the screen as the announcer continued.

"Polar bears and other arctic mammals make good soldiers for sub-zero environments."

The screen changed again, showing a picture of a cheetah soldier.

"While cheetahs and Pronghorns make good couriers, depending on the distance being traveled."

The snow leopard found this fascinating. Every species was unique in some way.

The ZNN reporter moved to rejoin Haida and Retsuko. They were looking at an exhibit about imperial Japan and the war in the pacific.

"Wow, look at that," Retsuko said, examining a model of a US aircraft carrier.

Haida and Fabienne looked at a map of battle formations around an island, complete with pictures of soldiers.

One photo showed Japanese troops digging trenches around the island as defenses. Another picture showed US pilots getting into planes and preparing to launch from the deck of a carrier. A third picture showed US marines charging against stubborn and dug-in Japanese pillboxes on a hill, firing down at a beach.

"My God, it's so reminiscent of the current war," Fabienne noted, looking at another image of American and Japanese warships engaging each other as planes crisscrossed the sky.

"I know…" Retsuko said, "I mean, we're fighting in the pacific, with warships and planes. I guess history repeats itself."

"What I find amazing..." Haida said, "the US and Japan used to be such bitter enemies, and now they are great allies."

"Yep, it only goes to show you how things can change with time," Fabienne responded.

"Here we are, mammals from Japan, doing an important role in a US military organization," Retsuko said. "And there is no place I'd rather be."

The three mammals continued through the museum. Examining the past and how it could tell them about the present and future.

000

JayJay was in her cabin on the typhoon, putting away some clothes she had just washed. The wolf put a dress on a hanger, hanging it in the closet, before turning her attention to some stockings and a few shirts.

As the young hero finished putting her clothes away in a drawer, there was a knock at her door.

The wolf opened the door and smiled, seeing captain Boehm in front of her.

"Hey Jay, what are you doing?"

"Just putting away some clothes." The wolf said, quickly fixing her hair and making herself look presentable. "What brings you around?"

"Well… I was wondering if you would like to hang out?" The captain said, trying to speak confidentiality. "We could go somewhere. There's plenty of attractions around Zootopia. Or just stay here and watch a movie or something."

JayJay's tail started wagging.

"Oh! I'd love to take you out clubbing!" The wolf said.

"Clubbing? Eh… that's not exactly my thing…."

"Please!" JayJay said, giving Alex puppy dog eyes. "I'd love it if you came along!"

"Sigh, alright, fine."

"Yes! Trust me, you'll have fun! Let me just get my things and get ready to go."

"Ok, I'll go get my wallet. Meet you back here."

Both mammals used the bathroom, got their personal effects, and met back up outside JayJay's room before leaving the typhoon.

"I'm really excited," JayJay confessed. "You, my favorite person in the world, going clubbing and dancing with me, which is my favorite thing to do!"

"I mean, I'm not exactly big on that sort of thing… but I'll bite the bullet if it means spending time with you."

The wolf wagged her tail in excitement. The pair then came upon Kion and Jasiri, who walked down the hallway. Each had an arm around the other.

"What are you two up to?" Alex asked.

"We're just going out," Kion said.

"Oh! So are we!" JayJay responded. "I'm taking him to a club."

The wolf gestured at the human.

"Heh, didn't think that would be your kind of thing, Alex." Kion teased. "You are usually a very reserved person who tends to keep to himself."

"Your correct." The captain responded, "But I just like spending time with Jay."

"Well, I like spending time with Jasiri." The lion kissed the hyena on the cheek, making her blush. This prompted JayJay to turn to her companion. Giving a look that almost saying "What? Where's my kiss?"

"If you two are going out, what if we come with you? We could all hang out." Jasiri said.

"I'm fine with that," Boehm responded. "Jay?"

"I'm down! Let's go!"

The four left the typhoon and headed down the street, led by JayJay, who knew where all the excellent dance parties and nightclubs were.

"I am going to bring you out of your shell tonight." JayJay said to Alex, "you can't be so reserved all the time."

"I think you are the right person to do that." The human responded to the wolf. "You're so outgoing and social. I'm an introvert, your an extrovert."

"Opposites attract." Kion laughed.

After a few minutes of walking, the group reached a building with dozens of bright neon lights outside, shining in all colors.

"Hey! It's the party animal!" Said the bear bouncer, opening the door for the team to go inside.

More bright lights of all colors flashed above a dance floor made up of light-up squares, which also changed color frequently. Mammals packed the dance floor, moving and cheering as they enjoyed themselves.

A bar that glowed white from internal lights was stationed against one of the walls. Behind the bar were shelves of liquid backlit by blue light. Tables and chairs were set up around the main dance floor for mammals to chat and rest.

"Say what about loud noises?" Kion asked Alex. "I heard that introverts like things to be quiet."  

"Yes, but Kion, I'm a soldier. I've heard the blasts of artillery strikes and the engines of rockets and jet planes. I can take some loud music."

"Do you guys want to get something to drink first?" Jay asked as the group drifted over to a table. "We need to stay hydrated if we're going to be dancing."

"What time is it?" Alex asked, "ah, I'll just have lemonade or something."

"Coke, please," Kion said. "No ice."

"Water is fine for me," Jasiri said.

"Alright! You guys have to pay me back, though. Kion, could you give me a paw? I can't carry all the drinks."

The wolf and lion left, heading to the bar.

"Say do we have any Glocks onboard the ship?" Jasiri asked.

"Yeah?" The captain said.

"I think I'm gonna try those as my pistols. See how they do in battle."

"Well, if you're going to use them, akimbo, we have plenty of attachments you can use. Sights, flashlights and lasers, muzzle breaks, and suppressors…. Heroes is well supplied."

"I can tell. I suppose all the money spent is worth it, though. We get the job done."

"Maybe you should get yourself another weapon if you find the pistols aren't cutting it. Like an SMG. Maybe an MP5 or UMP."

The human and hyena continued to discuss their weapons of warfare until Kion and JayJay returned with four glasses containing the drinks. The two giving Alex and Jasiri their beverages. JayJay had apparently ordered a beer, as her glass contained a foaming brown liquid.

"Jasiri and I were just talking about our combat gear," Alex said, taking a sip of his lemonade.

"Yeah, he thinks I should get an SMG for when the pistols don't cut it."

"I recently changed my armament as well." Kion said, "I quite like the LMG I got my paws on."

"Well, as I told Jasiri…" Alex said, "we have plenty of attachments you can put on."

"Oh sweet! I'll have to check those out."

"Well, while your running into battle with a sword and a big gun, my own equipment is a bit smaller," JayJay said. "Just a simple pistol and a machine pistol for when the going gets tough."

"Yeah, Kion, you are like the tank. With an LMG, a powerful sword, and your own strength to punch right through enemies." Captain Boehm noted. "Jay is more focused on her agility and speed."

"I've been thinking of getting a sword more like what you and Laval use. Chima style!" Kion said. "Also, JayJay, isn't your pistol an older design? 1911?"

"Yep! And not just any 1911. That very pistol was wielded by my ancestor, Jim Burdel, during WW1!"

"Wow, That should be in a museum."

"Hey, I like to think I'm doing right by my ancestor by carrying his weapon into battle. Though I don't know if he would like the paint scheme I've given it, he's not here to complain."

Suddenly the loud dubstep music slowed down, and all the lights on the dance floor turned a light blue as their movement speed slowed down.

"It's time for a slow dance!" The DJ said, "Maybe grab that special someone and bring them out onto the floor!"

Jasiri smirked at Kion and jumped up, gesturing for Kion to follow her, which he did. They headed out onto the dance floor, joining in the crowd of mammals.

Jasiri playfully pushed Kion, trying to figure out how exactly he should dance with his hyena. Fumbling with his paws and where to put them in a way that was not lewd.

The lion's lover just hugged him close, prompting Kion to wrap his arms around her and slowly turn and dance.  

"Come on, Alex!" JayJay said, standing up, prompting the captain to do the same and follow her.

The two mammals reached the dance floor, surrounded by other mammals and couples, moving slowly to the music.

Under the blue light, the pair embraced, nuzzling against each other's fur and skin. Alex and JayJay closed their eyes, enjoying the moment with each other, along with the other couples on the dance floor, including Kion and Jasiri. But the human and wolf were just focusing on each other. Both of them were, to the other, the most important mammal in the world.

Moments like these were what they were fighting for. China was an autocratic nation, curtailing freedoms and liberties. But here, people could be free and enjoy themselves without fear of the government or military.

It was these moments of peace that made their battles worth it. Worth fighting for a million times over.

[lesbianmonsterlover]

Under New Skies (Female Lizardfolk x Female Reader)

Three days into your little solo camping venture, you were regretting not paying more attention during that one astronomy class you took to fulfill your science gen ed in school.  The little clearing where you’d set up was about a mile down a dirt path off of a main thoroughfare, and only the fact that it was midweek and getting into autumn kept things relatively quiet.  You hadn’t come across another camper since you set up your tent and fire pit, spending your time pretty happily alone.  Something has felt off all day though. It was so misty when you woke up, damp tendrils coiling along the ground and into the trees, so dense you couldn’t see past the treeline at all.  You felt electric, almost like what you’ve read about before lightning strikes, all of your hair standing on end.  Nothing happened though, and by late morning the sun had taken care of the mist leaving the day unseasonably warm. 

Now, though, it’s nighttime, and something definitely seems wrong.   You should be able to see the big and little dipper at this time of year, but they don’t seem to be anywhere in the sky?  None of the constellations you can name seem to be anywhere actually.  You don’t want to dwell on it, chalking it up to ignorance, but it leaves a niggling in the back of your brain.  You wish you’d paid more attention to a lot of things, now.  Were these forest sounds familiar?  You want to say you’ve heard these bugs before, and birds, and frogs, but really would you notice if they were different?  You think you would, hope you would.  Something feels off though, but you put it off to deal with it in the morning.

That lump of lead hasn’t gone away by morning, and even though you’re meant to spend another night here you decide to cut the trip short and trek back to your car.  It’s a ten mile hike from where you are to where you parked, a straight shot once you make the mile back to the main trail.  You take care to clean, making yourself a thermos of coffee for the road before putting out the fire, and leaving the campsite behind with nothing to signify your presence other than a small ring of rocks surrounding cold, damp ash.

The first few minutes of your hike, you keep telling yourself you’re cutting you trip short due to paranoia.  But you promise yourself a treat to make up for it, maybe some pastries and a gourmet coffee to make up for the freeze dried instant stuff you’re currently drinking, with enough powdered non dairy creamer to choke an actual cow.  You don’t notice how long you’ve been walking, until you’re pretty sure you’ve walked well over a mile on this dinky little pathway through the underbrush, and you really should have come across the main trail now.   Sitting on a downed log you pull out your map and your phone.  You curse the lack of bars, regretting not bringing your little handheld satellite GPS receiver, but you’d thought it would be overkill for a short and straightforward hike like this.  That will show you to never do that again, you suppose.  Still, your compass says you’ve been walking the right direction, and you wonder if maybe you just haven’t gone quite far enough.  Still, you keep your phone out, knowing that you should at least get a bar or two on the main trail, considering you were using it on the hike in.

By the time lunch rolls around, you haven’t made it anywhere it seems like.  Sure you’ve made progress, but you know you’ve walked at least half a dozen miles, and you still have no cell site, you’ve seen no main road, no other travelers.  You sit, resting against a tree, and study your map while you eat a protein bar.  You’re scrutinizing, trying to figure out where you might be if you’ve gotten turned around.  You wonder briefly if you should head back for the clearing you came from and wait it out another night, but what would that do really?  You left at the only trailhead leading out of the clearing, that leads onto the same straightforward little trodden path that should have hit the main trail hours ago.  There are no paths branching off of that one, and you haven’t stepped foot off the path since you began walking.  You finish your protein bar with a grimace and have a few sips of water before angrily folding your map and continuing to follow the path.

The sun is just touching the tops of the trees when the little path you’ve been walking down all day finally intersects with a trail.  You say a trail and not the trail, because this road that you’re now standing on looks completely unfamiliar to you.  It looks like an old through road, unpaved and with two well worn ruts for what look like cart wheels running along it.  You don’t see any sort of civilization either direction, and you’re contemplating climbing a tree to see what you can make out from up that high, but you really don’t want to be stuck in the middle of nowhere in need of an ambulance and you aren’t exactly a spry young child anymore, capable of climbing trees on a whim.

You wrack your brain, trying to figure something, anything out.  You know that when you left the main trail onto what had been a small path to your campsite you’d turned right, so you should turn left down the trail to get back to your car.  You head that way, despite all contrary evidence you keep hoping that if you just push through it you’ll reach your car and be headed back home.  Maybe you’d go see a doctor, or maybe you’d just sleep off this experience, but it would be over and you could go back to the regular world.  

When it’s well and truly night, and you still haven’t seen hide nor hair of another person, you let yourself settle down for a good cry.   The moon is full, and you can at least see where you’re going, but all that does is illuminate everything that’s wrong.  You should be able to see some sort of light pollution nearby, the sky shouldn’t be this full of stars, why is there no noisy civilization.  You should be close enough to hear cars on the road, so where are they?  You know you should settle down and wait for morning, but you know your brain just won’t let you sleep.  So why rest?  You keep pushing forward, and by the time the sun is rising you just want to collapse into another sobbing heap as the road continues ever on in front of you.

You aren’t hungry, anxiety eating at your stomach as much as it is your head.  You do make sure to choke something down though, knowing that if you’re going to keep walking you need to keep calories in you.   You’re thankful that the road runs near to a running source of water, you can hear that at least sometimes in the background and it’s easy enough to find once you go looking.  Filling up your large canteen, you drop a water purification tablet in and continue out on your trek.   Running on fear and anxiety, you stagger on for what could have been hours, or maybe only minutes, or maybe even days (okay that’s a bit of an exaggeration) until you reach a fork in the road.

Now, do you go the Robert Frost take the road less traveled with its overgrown footpath and dark canopy, or do you listen to the horror trope screaming at you in the face and take the well maintained and nicely lit pathway?  Your desire to not wind up murdered wins out, and you take the brightly lit road with its well worn ruts.  Robert Frost will have to wait until you aren’t in an actual life or death situation to come in with his wisdom.  Although when you trip in one of those well worn ruts and sprain your ankle two miles later you’re rethinking your decision. So, you break down, and I mean who can blame you?

-------

Two days ago, and a handful of hours, Rha’ss felt her chaining for the first time.  Usually sometime around reaching maturity one’s chaining would make itself known.  Some bloomed slightly earlier, some later, but most who made it into their thirtieth year without it knew that they would not find themselves being called by their other half.   It wasn’t unheard of at all for these unfated pairs to still love and live together, but the connection of a chained couple was known to be unrivaled, such that even high born nobles would take their fated regardless of status.  

At thirty-eight Rha’ss had resigned herself to life without a chain, becoming a sellsword content with the knowledge that there would be none to truly mourn her when the time came.  So imagine her surprise when she woke in the middle of the night to feel that gentle pull in the center of her chest, a yearning wrapped ‘round her heart that would not be fixed until the subject of her desires was with her.  Between contracts as she was, it didn’t take long for her to be fixed on her horse and following the gentle pull in her chest.  

She wondered then what had happened to have brought the bond to life so suddenly.  Were you just coming of age?  How would she handle that, and the differential that comes with such a difference in life experiences?  Was there something else that had kept the bond dormant for so long?  Were you merely far from her, and only now in close enough proximity for it to kindle?  She hopes you won’t be disappointed by her, a hardened and jaded mercenary.  She long buried her love and affection beneath a tough veneer of indifference, necessary for the blood she traded in.  How would you handle holding hands that had dealt death?

Rha’ss isn’t sure what to make of you when she first comes across you.  You’re curled in the middle of the road, sobbing, with your hands pressed against your face.  From what she can see you’re too tall to be a gnome, but your ears are round so you can’t be an elf.  Maybe half elf half gnome?  You’re dressed so oddly too.  In bright colors and materials she’s never seen before.  Your shoes are odd to her, your coat, your bag.  Everything is so strange.  But when you look up, and your watery eyes sparkle against the sun as you stare up at her, she can’t find it in her to be upset.  

“What’s the matter sweetling?”

-------

You find yourself staring up at an imposing creature astride a rather large dapple grey horse.  They look like a lizardfolk out of a fantasy game, their reptilian face gleaming like jade in the bright sun.  Their head is crested with pink and teal moving down their spine in impressive pointed frills almost like a mohawk.  Their slitted eyes are a bright yellow, matching some of the scales that look almost like freckles across their shoulders and down their arms.  Their throat leading down into their shirt is a pale cream, and the whole look is rather impressive.  You wonder briefly at the edge of your consciousness if you should be scared, but something in your chest that’s been tight since two mornings ago seems to have relaxed now that you’re thinking of it.

Still, this...person?  Person.  This person is definitely not a human.  And isn’t that something to think about?  You wonder briefly if you’re in shock, did you actually break your ankle?  Is this some weird fantasy your brain has stirred up to keep you from passing out and dying?  Is all of this some weird fever dream where you’ll wake up in your campsite after a bout of food poisoning vowing to never eat rations again?

“What’s the matter sweetling?”  Their voice is rough and feminine, low and rasping but with a lilt and timbre that makes you think of your grandmother in some odd way.  They’re off their horse now, kneeling over you and looking down at you with such tenderness that all you can do is start sobbing anew and throw yourself at them.  They shush you with quiet murmurs of nothing, taloned hands gently sifting through your hair to scratch at your scalp soothingly.  Somehow, you choke out everything.  From the changed pathway, to the different stars, to the different bugs, even to themselves.

“I don’t know what’s going on.  Everything is all wrong, none of this makes sense!  I can’t - I don’t know where I am, I can’t figure out how to get home.  What do I do?”  The being surrounding you gives a low, soothing hum, and their cool skin helps ground you.  

“Well, sweetling, I can tell you that you’re at the border between the riverlands and dragon’s spire.”  They give a thoughtful hum when your face remains as confused as ever.  “In Xanthalan?”  Your brows knit together further, and she huffs a little.  “Why don’t we start with where you’re from, sweetling, and maybe your name at that.  I am Rha’ss, daughter of Sharath, protector of the dragon’s spire.”

When you introduce yourself, with much less pomp, she finds herself confused.  “I’ve never heard of that land before, and I have traveled across the great East sea to the basin of the world, and across the great North sea to the kingdoms of ice.”  She frowns in thought, staring down at you heavily.  “Where is your map?”  When you fumble your map out of your bag and hand it to her she frowns again as she unfolds it.   “This doesn’t make much sense…”  She studies the map with you caged in against her chest, her arms still wrapped around you.  “I think we need to pay a friend of mine a visit.”

Rha’ss moves to stand and pull you up with her, and you go with it completely forgetting your ankle.  Until, of course, it decides to give under you when you try to put your weight on it.  You’re pleasantly surprised by Rha’ss’ strength, as she catches you easily without stumbling.  You mumble a shy apology, but she just gives you a warm look and caresses your cheek with her thumb lovingly.   She helps you onto her horse, mounting behind you and wrapping her arms around your waist to take the reins.  You feel small in front of her, she must be at least seven feet tall the way the top of your head doesn’t even graze her chin.  You don’t have much riding experience, and it shows, but she’s patient with you, and the way she guides your hips into the rhythm of riding is surprisingly sensual.  

It’s only a two hour ride at a moderate pace before you come across a small town built alongside the road.  There’s an inn, and what looks like a general store, but that’s all you can make out before Rha’ss is pulling you bodily from the horse’s back and carrying you into the inn like a bride over a threshold.  After settling you gently in a chair by the fire she greets the innkeeper and barkeep like old friends, complete with embraces that make you suddenly and unexpectedly jealous, all in a hissing sort of language you don’t understand.  They’re both lizardfolk like she is, so you’re guessing it’s their own language.  

You take a few moments to look around.  There are a few others in here, not lizardfolk so this isn’t a planet purely populated by reptilian people.  It looks like some orcs, and something furry with round ears - maybe a gnoll?  And then a pair of short but intimidating looking...you’d have guessed humans but who knows at this point, both with impressive beards.  So dwarves?  You’re brought out of your reverie when Rha’ss walks back over to you carrying two frothy mugs and a roll of what looks like linen.  “Let me bind your ankle sweetling, and then we can talk more.”  The care with which she handles you makes you feel secure down to your bones, but you’re dreading trying to come to terms with whatever it is that’s happened to bring you here.

Under Rha’ss’ watchful stare you take a long sip of the drink she’s brought you, thankful that at least honey mead is honey mead regardless of whatever else is going on around you.  “I don’t even know where to start…”  You sound exhausted even to your own ears, the kind of weary that extends past physical tiredness and into the realm of a soul deep exhaustion.  “I was camping, having a fine few days in the woods, but the other night I noticed the stars didn’t look quite right.  I couldn’t find any of my landmarks.  And then my trail disappeared, and I don’t know where I am.  I don’t know how I got here.  None of this makes sense.  I’m just a normal human, from a normal family, lizard folk and orcs and stuff, none of this should be real.  I can feel you’re real like I am though, and I’m starting to think I’m not hallucinating all of this…”  You take another deep drink of your honey mead before placing your tankard down on the table and resting your face in your hands tiredly.

When you look back at Rha’ss she’s staring with a confused look on her face.  “What’s ‘human?’  Is that your clan?”

You give her an equally confused glance.  “No?  It’s my species?  My race?”  

She doesn’t look appeased by that.  “I’ve never heard of ‘human’ before.”  She hums thoughtfully.  “You’re softer than an elf, but bigger than a halfling or a gnome.  You’ve got the rounded ears too.”  She jerks her chin in your direction and you touch the rounded top of your ear a little self-consciously.  She drinks from her own tankard and stares away in thought, you can almost hear the gears working in her head as she tries to puzzle things out.  “That map you showed me earlier, you said that was from your home?”  You nod at her and she hums again.  “But you were camping just along the dragon’s spire, I know that land better than almost any and your map is fully foreign to me.”   She frowns in contemplation, mumbling to herself before pinning you with a serious look.  “Tell me what you know of heart’s calls and chaining.”  You stare at her as confused as ever, you aren’t sure what you’ve done wrong as her face falls while you look on.  Her sigh is weary and resigned, but she gives a grimace of a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.  “Worry not sweetling, all will be revealed in time.  Qruz has told me that the Wizard Gorux has made himself comfortable in the inn as of yesterday.  It seems we were expected, we’re to meet tomorrow.”  

You just nod your head tiredly at this point, too overwhelmed to even question it any longer.  You can’t lift your head again though, crashing hard after the stressful past days.  You’re already half asleep when Rha’ss picks you up again and settles you on a rather comfortable straw mattress in an upstairs room, and you’re out completely with barely enough time to mumble your thanks.  

-------

When you wake the next morning, the first thing you notice is that you aren’t alone.  While you’re alone in your little bed, you can see the lizard person, Rha’ss, from the day before, along with a somehow even taller and broader orc sitting across from her at a small table.   They’re conversing lowly, and you can’t understand them over the crackling of the fire.  The orc is dressed in ornately embroidered robes, and has a plethora of feathers and glass beads woven through his black hair.  He looks wizened but not old, his hair lacking even a single streak of silver but his eyes carrying the weight of centuries.

You don’t really pay attention as he comes over and asks you a few questions, you can tell from them that Rha’ss has shared your story.  He smudges you with some fragrant herbs, although you can’t place what any of them are and that sends a pang of sadness through your heart.   Whatever he sees though makes his face go grim and he settles the lizard woman in the chair with a heavy look.  “Aye, lass, it’s as ye thought. It isn’t the first time a bond has made it across time and space, but this is something I’ve only read about.  It hasn’t happened in a millenia at the least.  Do not take this gift lightly.”  He turns to fix you with an inscrutable stare, dark eyes searching your face.  His eyes soften though, and with an exhaled puff of air he places one large hand on the crown of your head and mumbles something in a language you’ve never heard before.  “Blessings on you little one, I do not envy your position, but I know Rha’ss, I know she will love you and cherish you until the end of days if you let her.  Do not ignore your chaining, the both of you will suffer for it.”  

He’s gone before you can ask him about it, and Rha’ss is staring at you guardedly.  “I guess it’s time for me to explain that eh?”  She pulls a small leather pouch out of her pack, removing a pipe and what smells like it might be tobacco.  You watch as she packs the leaf into the bowl of the pipe, soothing herself with the practiced repetitive motion.  “Never thought I’d find myself doing this.  See, sweetling, from the time we’re babes we hear about our calling.  Our heart’s calling, or we call it the chaining.  Because it’s said to feel like a chain pulling us together.  I’d never felt it, my whole life.  I dedicated myself to my sword, to battle.  But I woke three nights ago to a feeling in my chest I knew with certainty was it.”  She stands from the table then, leaving her pipe abandoned and unsmoked as she moves to kneel before you.  “I was trying to fathom who might be waiting for me at the other end of my chain, and sweetling, it was you.  Please, tell me you feel it.”  Her hands are on your knees, and her yellow eyes are full of open affection and fear it won’t be reciprocated.  

You reach up to stroke over her reptilian snout, soft little fingers skating up the butt of her jaw.  “I know that I was panicking until I met you.  That as soon as you held me I knew I’d never been safer in my whole life.  I can’t promise this will always be easy for me, and that I won’t make mistakes, but I can promise to try.”  Rha’ss relaxes against you burying her head against your stomach and gripping tightly at the back of your shirt.  You lean down to kiss the top of her head between her eyes, and she curiously nuzzles up against your breasts when they crowd in against her.  Your soft giggle at the action makes her face light up, and she begins rubbing against you with her jaw trying to make you laugh again.  

Once she has you laughing you tug her face up to your own, kissing along the top of her nose.  Her scales are cool and smooth against your lips, and she lets out an affectionate chittering noise when she feels your soft mouth on her.  She strokes her tongue over your cheek and throat, letting out a high, throaty sigh at your taste.  The gentle prick of her talons at your hips barely keeps you grounded as she laves over your skin with her dark, forked tongue in repeated strokes.  You can’t help letting out a sigh of pleasure when that curiously dextrous appendage presses down the front of your shirt and skates over the cup of your bra.  She seems intrigued by the garment, and with questioning eyes she tugs at the hem of your shirt.  

You let Rha’ss strip it from you wordlessly, lifting your arms over your head until you’re left in your bra and hiking pants on the bed.   Her talons gently trace the cup of your bra and up the straps to your shoulders.  “This looks much nicer than a corset sweetling, not that I’d know much about that either way.”  She leans down to lick a hot stripe down between your breasts before sneakily pushing her tongue underneath the front busk between the cups.  You’re thankful to be wearing a front closing bra, and with only a little bit of experimentation she’s used her hands to pop it open, letting it fall aside to bare your chest to her.  Her taloned hands have been smoothing and stroking up your sides, from your hips over the side of your chest and back down, gently massaging at your hips at they sit there momentarily before repeating their journey.

When you cry out Rha’ss’ name in frustration as she merely gazes down at you, she repeats yours back to you in a smitten sigh.  Her knuckles gently graze over the peaks of your nipples, and she watches your face to learn what you like and how to touch you.  She gently pinches them between two fingers, giving an experimental tug before fondling your breasts in earnest, her tongue licking stripes along your shoulders and throat.  She has one firm thigh lodged between yours, and you can feel her cool skin heating beneath the languid thrusts your hips make up searching for friction.

Her head soon replaces her hands, that prehensile tongue coiling around one breast before giving a firm lick up the center to rasp over your nipple.  You barely notice her hands as they skate down your stomach, talons dipping into the waist of your pants before she tugs at them softly, looking up at you with hopeful eyes.  You lift your hips in assent, feeling bereft for a moment as she moves away only long enough to tug your pants and panties down in one fell swoop.  She tugs her own garments off then too, a simple tunic and linen pants that whisper to the floor as she tosses them carelessly aside.  

Rha’ss is on you again then, and over you.  Her face is tucked into your neck, tongue scenting and tasting your skin as she presses your soft breasts against her cool, firm torso.  The give of them against her is enticing, and she relishes in the way that you arch up into her when her thigh finally makes contact with your bare core.  The heat is so intense against her cool skin, and she presses up against you harder in an attempt to feel more of it.  You’re burning hot and so slick.  She grips your hips, just careful enough not to prick you with her talons, although you may be sporting bruises later.  She uses this leverage to move you up and down against her, drawing your slick heat over her flesh and painting her with your essence.  

Your head is thrown back, baring your neck up submissively.  One of your hands is caressing down over her head and neck, skating along the base of her frills.  They had been tucked down against her back, but as she loses herself to pleasure you find them occasionally flaring unconsciously.  Your other hand is at her back, at the base of her tail.  You hadn’t really noticed it until now.  Reaching down for a handful of her buttocks you instead catch the base of her tail, although the way it makes her stutter and cry out against your throat has you abandon your original goal in favor of stroking over where her tail meets her back with your soft hands and blunt nails.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, one moment you’re lost in your partner and the next you’re almost whiting out as the heat licks down your spine and your back arches.  You cry out Rha’ss’ name, toes curling and thighs cramping as you reach your ecstasy.  She spreads you out before her, and as you’re fuzzy from your pleasure you watch as she teases something from a slit at the apex of her thighs.  It’s not quite as large as a penis, although it’s much thicker at the base and tapers to an odd blunt, angled tip.  “When you’re ready, sweetling, I’ll fill you with my brood, but this will do for now.”  She sighs happily when she slips the cool organ between your labia to rut against you.  The oddly cool and slick sensation against your clit has you clenching again, and you cry out loudly when the tip prods at your hole only to just barely slip inside.

Rha’ss lets out a guttural noise when your hot body surrounds her, and you can feel the organ lengthen inside you even as it gets thinner. One of her hands comes down to stroke at your clit, touching you in just the right way that has you clenching harder.  You’re still so tight around her, gripping her in all the right places.  You’re surprised by her orgasm, a cool fluid gushing from the tip inside of you and flowing out to coat your inner thighs.  It smells strangely sweet and heady, and the feeling of her coming inside of you along with her incessant fingers on your clit has you reaching your peak again.

Rha’ss falls beside you, pulling you in to lay on her chest.  She feels blissfully cool against your heated skin.  There will be more to work out and talk about, this is only the beginning of something after all, but you find yourself feeling oddly at peace with things.  You know there will be trials, and that things won’t always be easy for you considering the abrupt and complete change of your lifestyle.  But in this moment, you find you’re more excited than anxious.  You’re pulled from your contemplation by Rha’ss fingers gently sifting through your hair to reach your scalp, lulling you to sleep with gentle touches and soft words.

[intubatedangel]

Cold Snap: Chapter 4

Chapter 1 |  Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |

Anna walked through into the large living room, turning to the TV. Carl was stood beside the counter, phone to his ear, gaze locked on the screen. A newscast was showing aerial footage from a helicopter. A banner along the bottom was headlined with MOMENTS AGO, and scrolling text described the scene. Not that it needed much describing. The boat was pouring with smoke, people crowded on the fore deck. Anna watched, gasping as the fuel tank explosion sent a gout of flame into the air and shook everyone on board.

"Anna?" Sara asked on the phone.

"I saw." She gulped, exchanging a glance with Carl. They both nodded. Their plans for the day would have to wait. "We'll be right there." Anna told Sara, before hanging up, she headed into the bathroom, grabbing two towels. She tossed one into the sink, soaking it in warm water. She gave her chest a quick scrub to remove the lingering gel, then wiped away as much sweat as she reasonably could. It was an old trick nursing school trick, when you had a short break and needed to freshen up. It would have do. Carl entered the bathroom behind her, and she handed him the wet towel, using the other to dry herself.

They didn't say anything, both processing what they had seen. Not in the way that someone in shock might have to process an event. They were going over the details they had seen. The footage wasn't great, but the signs of blood and bandages were pretty clear. There was the fire factor too, and given how cold the river was, hypothermia could be a big complication. Carl's mind was focused on treatments for the worst case scenarios. Anna thought more about the bigger picture. Triage and dividing her nurses to cover as many bases as possible safely and quickly.

Once dry she slipped around Carl and went to the wardrobe. Grabbing her last set of spare underwear and scrubs. She changed with a sense of urgency, Carl joining her soon after. Anna didn't waste any time sorting her hair. She ran a brush through it a couple of times, then fixed it in a basic ponytail. She went to the living room and looked through the window, down to the road. Traffic was already slowing down, with the river road likely blocked and emergency vehicles overriding lights in multiple directions. The police department would be clearing routes to the hospital, but none would pass this way.

She heard Carl coming though, dressed and ready. She looked at him and shook her head as she went to the front door. "Walking will be quicker." He nodded and they both left the apartment.

The kettle finished it's 5-minute boiling cycle.

* * *

 Jones ran towards the back of the boat, waving his arms at one point as the boat rocked, presumably a patrol boat pushing off. It wasn't big enough to be another explosion. He hadn't considered the prospect but thought it unlikely. What was left to explode? As he neared the back of the boat, he could feel the tilt getting more substantial as the rear compartments flooded first. A part of him hoped that the luggage area wasn't one of them. A hope that was dashed when he reached the top of the rear stairs.

The waterline was already halfway up the stairs, which with the tilt of the boat were now almost vertical. It was murky too, not the horribly polluted mess it had been in years gone by. For a city river it was remarkably clean. This was just the standard murk of a natural river, suspended silt and foam, plus whatever dirt was being pulled from the inside of the boat. He couldn't see any sign of the girl. He would have to go in. He pulled off the life jacket, which would only hinder him here, but grabbed the small waterproof flashlight.

Just looking at the water made him feel cold. He took a couple of deep breaths, gritted his teeth, and jumped in. He did his best to contain a half-scream-half-growl, as the cold water shocked his system. The initial shock over, he swore. Loudly. Then turned to the task at hand. Placing the flashlight between his teeth, hooked a foot under the steps, rotated to face down wards, then pushed off, cutting through the water.

It stung his eyes as he kept them open, looking for any sign. It didn't take him long. The girl, Shona the kid had said, had long blond hair that was spread out in the water, acting almost like a flag, guiding him to her. She was dead. Clinically at least. That much was obvious. Motionless, blue lips. He didn't bother checking for a pulse or trying to give her some air. It would be pointless with her lungs full of water. Her only hope was that the cold would prevent any major damage. Jones knew that cold water drowning was one of the best-case scenarios for a full recovery. He just had to get her out and get her to help as soon as possible.

He grabbed one of her arms, pulling on it, hoping it would be simple. But she was trapped. He pushed himself closer, down her body length, to get a good view of the cases covering her legs and waist. He could feel his own air starting to run low, but realigned himself, planting his feet against the floor, grabbing the heaviest case in both hands. He pushed off, taking the case with him, moving it just far enough to roll it away from the girl. He did the same for another case, then, lungs starting to burn, he took a chance. He got one arm around her waist, pulled her upper body closer to his shoulder with the other. Then, cradling her tightly, he pushed off in a smooth firm motion. The was a moment of resistance, as the bags and cases tried to keep hold of their prize, then they relented. Shona was free.

As soon as he felt it Jones kicked off the bottom, but his legs were almost fully extended already and there was no dramatic rush to the surface. He had to swim with his legs, each motion needing more oxygen. He could see the light from the stairs, and swam towards it, spitting out the flashlight, letting it sink away. He felt desperate as he crossed the final few yards.

With a great gasping breath he broke the surface, dragging in few deep lungful’s of air, remembering to breath out steadily and expel the co2 that must have been building. He rearranged the body in his arms, getting a better look at her. In the open air her hair had fallen and clung to her face. He brushed it away, without any tenderness, feeling how cold her skin was. He knew there was absolutely nothing he could do but get her out. And there was the problem. Submerged in the water he had been unable to really sense direction. During the short time he had been under, the boat had tilted further, enough that there was no chance of climbing the steps, not with a pulseless young woman in one arm.

* * *

 Lucy watched the cop go rushing off, shaking her head. She wanted to go with him. Help him. But she was the only proper medic on board. And as she had told Jones, Patients come first. She got the splint wrapped around the young man’s arm. She didn't dare try to reduce the fracture herself. She had no idea how many knocks it taken. Instead, she used the splint to stabilise the bones as they were, loosely wrapping anti-septic coated bandages over the wound. It would do.

She followed it up with a neck brace, then waved over a cop. "I need a spinal board from a patrol boat, and some spare hands." She requested. The cop nodded, immediately going to do as she asked. She checked the young man’s pulse while she waited. It was rapid, a little thready, but not excessively concerning. The head injury could become a problem, but there wouldn't be anything she could do if he did have a brain bleed. The best thing would be to get him to a neuro unit as soon as possible, and in the meantime try to reduce his pain and stress levels. To that end she shot him up with a moderate dose of morphine, which seemed to calm him.

The cop returned with the orange board and two others. They should have all had training in spinal boards, it was part of the required first aid course for river patrol, but Lucy coached them through it just in case. They log rolled the young man, placing the board before rolling him back, then they tied down the straps, crossing his body and making everything secure. By the time they were done and Lucy could look around, she could see that they were the only ones left on board.

"Ok, nice and easy." She said, standing up slowly and in concert with the other three. It was only when she was standing that she realised how badly the boat was faring. Luckily the patrol boat was level with them, so they could shuffle sideways along the tilted deck, instead of having to walk up a 30-degree slope. They reached the edge of the boat and she directed two of them down into it, while she and the other balanced the spinal board on the rail.

Carefully they eased the board down into the patrol boat. Lucy looked out at the river. All the other boats were on their way to shore. She looked at the sinking rear of The Beetle. There was still no sign of Jones. "Do we wait?" A cop asked, clearly tracking her thinking. They were the last boat. The last chance for Jones and the possible casualty. She cursed, looking out over the river avoiding the eyes of the cops. They were putting the decision in her hands. Patients Come First.

She opened her mouth to speak, when she noticed something odd. One boat wasn't heading for shore. It was making a mad dash in their direction, skipping and bouncing on the waves of the river. "No." She ordered. "Get this one to shore. Go as fast as you smoothly can." She said starting to turn away.

"Wait, what about you?" The officer asked,

"Patients come first." Lucy told him. She rushed towards the cabin without looking back.

[gardengirl-18]

Partners- Peter Parker x Reader

Not my gif, credit to the owner. 

Female reader.

Summary: Peter Parker, known as Spiderman had a partner in crime, scratch that a crime-fighting partner, and not even Liz Allen could compare to her. 

Warnings: Mentions of crime fighting, like two curse words.

Spiderman know’s Y/N as Shadow, and Y/N knows Peter as Spiderman.

   Peter Parker sat, perched upon the top of a neighboring apartment complex. The night sky of Queen’s was starry from up here, far away from the light pollution near the ground. A slight breeze cut through the loud sounds of horns honking due to New York's citizen’s and their brutal road rage.

“Slow night?” a voice asked from behind him, and Peter nearly fell off the ledge of the building, his heart thumping in his chest. His gloved hand came up to rest against his chest, feeling the fast thump. “Sorry.” The girl chuckled, walking towards him, settling on the ledge beside him, her mask covered eyes scanning the busy streets below.

“Y-yeah, not much. just a guy trying to take some ladies purse and a lost dog, no biggie.” Peter finally said after allowing himself to calm down. The eye lenses in his mask narrowed at his spandex wearing partner. “You good?” 

“Yeah, just school is stressful and I’m still trying to figure out this whole double life thing.” Y/N said, her gaze settling on her fellow masked vigilante next to her.”Oh, I almost forgot ask, how’d it go with that girl? The one you liked at school?” 

“Um, it went okay, she rejected me but i’m fine. I kind of was glad she did because as I asked her I realized I didn’t like her as much as I thought.” Y/N felt a slight pang of jealously in her chest. How could she like someone she didn’t even know? She didn’t know his name, or even what his favorite color was, leaving her in the dark. 

“Really? Am I sensing personal growth?” Y/N asked in a teasing tone, Peter softly laughed beside her, his head slightly shaking. If she could see his face, she would see the goofiest smile, and the kindest eyes. “Anyways, how’d it go with Tony?”

“Good, he said he admires our partnership, and maybe even someday we can be like Clint and Nat.” Y/N chuckled, stretching her legs out and her arm brushed against Peter’s. Peter was glad Y/N didn’t have his spidey senses so she couldn’t sense his heart rate quicken, or sense how warm his body had become. “How bout you? Did you ever ask that guy out?”

“Oh god no, I’m so shy, and he’s already head over heels for the most popular girl at school, I don’t stand a chance.” Peter’s eyebrows furrowed from beneath his mask, he watched his partner shyly rub at her shoulder. Peter thought for a moment.

“If it means anything to you I would’ve said yes.” Y/N whipped her head around to face him, his eye lenses widening. 

“What do you mean? We don’t even know each others names.”

“I mean like if I knew you I would.” The silence grew awkward fast, Peter had to think to save himself, “Midtown.”

“What?” Asked Y/N.

“Midtown, I go to Midtown High.” Replied Peter, his hands began to shake and he sensed Y/N’s heart speed up.

“So do I.” Peter’s heartbeat quicken as well, as he watched Y/N drag her fingers up to her mask, pulling at it slightly. He had only known her as Shadow, but as she peeled the dark material off her face he recognized her. Y/N L/N, the girl in his history class and who frequently helped the Academic Decathlon team.

   Peter could sense the unease coming off her. His gloved hands reached up, pulling at the masks end, letting his natural curls fall out. Y/N gave him a shocked look and Peter nervously smiled. 

“Peter?” Y/N asked amazed. “Holy shit!” Peter smiled at her. He always’s thought Y/N was cool, the real Y/N not just shadow. He felt her heartbeat quicken and could sense the flush that had formed at the back of her neck. Her hand came up to rest at his shoulder, “Oh shit, this whole time I’ve been telling you about my crush on, well you.” Peter’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. He grabbed her by the back of her neck and pulled her in for a kiss. The kiss was somewhat long and super inexperienced.

   Y/N pulled away, trying to catch her breath. “So who’s gonna tell Tony?” She asked. “Too late kids, I already know.” Said Tony from behind them, landing in his heavy suit. “You two have got some explaining to do.” He said gesturing between them.

[mystwright]

Siren’s Song PT.1

Characters: You,Taehyung, Jungkook

Genre: smut, angst, supernatural, Taehyung x reader, Jungkook x reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, sex

Word Count: 4,404

Masterlist

From the shore, a young woman stared at her foolish boyfriend splashing frantically around in the sea.

“Come on, get in! The water feels great!”

She looked at the waves crashing near her feet and hated that what started as stupid joke soon turned into reality.

“I don’t know” She replied hesitantly. “Isn’t it cold?! Or what if someone sees us?” She asked. “You know what they will do if we get caught, right?”

“No! It’s not cold at all! Now get in before someone does come!” He yelled back.

She contemplated the situation but backed away to avoid getting wet.

“Come back! I feel like someone is going to see us!”

“Stop being such a scaredy cat!”

She looked at the sea again and sighed. He was such a fool for always doing anything for her.

“I’m sorry” She whispered to herself.

“Alright!!” She said giving in. She kicked her shoes aside, careful not to get any sand in them. “Turn around!! I don’t want you to watch me!!”

“What are you trying to hide?” He asked.

“Nothing!! Now turn around before I change my mind!”

He laughed out loud but obeyed.

“You better not try anything funny!” She yelled as she moved her hands around to take her clothes off.

“Ready?!” He asked pretending to take a peek.

“No!!” She yelled back. “Turn around or I’ll change my mind!”

Standing only in her bra now, she made sure that he was not looking before beginning to make her way into the water towards him.

“See, babe? Everything is fine!” He replied once he heard splashing nearby.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever” She replied with a smile as she finally reached him.

The waves became calm as she wrapped her arms around him. There was still some distance between them but he didn’t mind. She was there with him now.

“Why are you complaining if you’re the one who wanted to come out here?” He asked with a grin.

She quickly kissed him.

“Who said I was complaining?” She replied. Before saying anymore, she looked at the water surrounding them. “But if I’m being honest… I am a little nervous though”

He huffed and stuck his chest out. “Don’t worry. I’m here! I’ll protect you!”

She laughed but let him go in the process, swimming a few feet away from him.

“But who will protect you?” She asked.

“What do you mean?” He quipped. “It’s just you and me! We’ve got nothing to worry about! Now come back here! It’s lonely swimming out here all by myself”

She seemed distant but he was determined to make her feel better.

“Hey… What’s wrong? Is it too cold out here? We can go back”

She looked at the sea surrounding them. As gentle as the waves were, she knew it was merely the calm before the storm.

“I don’t know. Maybe we should go back”

He began to make his way over to her but she looked at him and just shook her head backing away.

“No… Let’s stay like this” She replied, changing her mind.

He stared at her confused.

“Be honest… Tell me what’s wrong”

“Sorry.. it’s just, you must think I’m crazy for dragging you out here”

“No” He replied. “I’d do anything you ask”

Guilty, she looked away. “I know. You’re crazy”

“Only for you!” He smiled.

They both began to laugh. It was moments like this that she would miss.

“I wish we could just stay like this” She replied.

“Why not?”

As the laughs subsided, he looked at her in the moonlight. She was as beautiful as ever but now that she was in the sea with him, he began to see her in a new light. The gentle waves had soaked through her bra. Mesmerized, he tried to get his mind off of her nipples peaking though but before he could do anything, he felt something grab him from underneath the water.

“What the? Something’s got my leg!” He yelled.

Struggling to fight whatever it was that had his leg, he began to scream.

“Help me!”

“I’m sorry” She replied as she looked on.

From across the way, she watched unfazed as his head bobbed up and down in the water. Eventually his screams stopped and all that could be heard were the waves again. Beneath the sea, he continued to try and gasp for air but there was no such luck for him as water made its way down his throat. As he struggled to swim back up to where she was, he became horrified at what he saw. Under the same moonlight that had cut through the water, he saw two giant fish tails attached to human bodies swimming above him.

“Took you long enough” A new voice called from behind her.

She turned and saw her fellow sister swimming next to her now.

“Shut up, it was my first time”

“Mmmmhm….” She replied unimpressed. “Too much unnecessary chit chat in my opinion”

She looked at her sister annoyed now.

“Do you know how hard it is to lure someone out here?” She asked. “It takes a whole lot of convincing since no one wants to touch these damned waters”

Her sister gave out an exasperated laugh. “Geez. Why so mad?” She asked.

She turned away. “I’m tired … let’s go before they have nothing left for us”

“Ohh don’t tell me that you actually had feelings for him. I don’t blame you… he was kinda cute” Her sister began to joke.

The young mermaid looked back at where he once was.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now come on… before someone sees too”

---

It was no secret that your kind existed. In fact, mermaids were often marveled for their beauty but feared for what they really were. As legends would have it, mermaids were far from innocent. Not only did mermaids kill humans.. they also ate them. 

As a mermaid, you had heard numerous tales about your kind since you were young. To mankind, mermaids were smart, cunning, and untrustworthy. To their credit, they weren’t wrong. But so were the humans in their own way. Due to their constant abuse of the sea, pollution had caused the water in which you lived in to become barren, causing your kind to resort to drastic measures  to survive. 

You had watched numerous ships sink in your life time and had seen hundreds drown and die in front of you. At times you felt bad about taking a life but then the hunger would strike and always overcome that feeling. You were curious about the life outside the sea but you knew better than to go on land by yourself as it was unsafe. In no time, people going missing at sea were no longer deemed just an accident and soon a war waged against humans and your kind. Borders began to be built around the land and sea and anyone seen crossing on either side  were either captured or killed on sight.  

As the years went by, food became even more scarce. As you watched your fellow merpeople succumb to death due to starvation, you knew you had to cross the border to find food for yourself or perish along with the others.

“Be careful up there Y/N. The human world is not like ours. If they find out that you are a mermaid, they will kill you.”

You sighed. “I know, mom”

“When you reach the human world, you must find clothes quickly and don’t forget what I told you....” 

You sighed again. Not because you did not want to heed her warnings but that you wished she knew that you could do this. You hugged her one last time to reassure her.

“I’ll come back. I promise… and I’ll be back with some food soon for everyone”

You both swam up to the surface. Not to far from you was the wall. 

“We’ll cause a distraction. As soon as they have their eye on us, swim to the gate.”

You nodded.

“Make sure no one sees and crawl in quickly.. And Y/N…”

You looked at your mother one last time expecting criticism.

“I’m proud of you for doing this. I love you.”

After your mother’s last words, she swam off before you could reply.

Against the currents, you hid, waiting for your que to go. Before long, you heard an explosion from above and alarms began to blare to alert the others.

“Not yet” You told yourself. “The gate…”

More shots were fired and soon you heard the gate drop down. Heavy footsteps bantered against the ground and then stopped as they tried to find your mother..

“Now” You told yourself.

You could hear the commotion behind you as you crawled through the gate and onto land. It was late in the day but you still needed to make sure that no one could see you and dry off quickly so you could  gain your human legs.  As you crawled undetected, you expected the pain of being out of water for the first time to hurt like hell. Those who had done it before described it as having the water literally knocked out of you. First, your lungs struggled to adapt to the air completely and then your tail would split into two… That was by far the worst part it seemed and you shuddered thinking about the thought but continued.

Your arms were bruised from crawling up the gravel road but off in the distance was finally someone’s house. You searched the premise for anything that could help dry you off and saw that a few items were left to hang on a line. You tugged the fabric and saw clothespins fly to the ground. Finally dry, there was no pain as your mermaid tail suddenly turned into a pair of legs in front of you. You wiggled your toes and stared at your new human form. Confused, you began to wonder why others felt pain when you had felt nothing. Was it just a lie they told to keep your kind safe and away from wanting to go on land?

You got up slowly and marveled at the new feeling of feet but found yourself struggling like a doe. You instantly crashed to the ground and scraped your new knees. A few more tries and then you could get it, right? You got up again but knocked a few items over to the floor.

“Who’s out there?!” You heard an old voice calling.

“Who are you and what do you want!??” It continued.

You sat back down with the random fabric wrapped around you. If he knew what you were, your mission would have been all for nothing. 

“Please help me” You weakly responded.

An old man peered around the corner. In his hands was a familiar instrument you had seen before. A gun was what your mom called it. 

“Who are you?” He angrily  asked.

“I’m Y/N” You tiredly replied.

“What are you doing out here by yourself at this hour?”

Before he could continue, he saw your bruised arms and knees. “Who did this to you?” He asked.

“Please, I need help” You replied.

He looked at the condition that you were in and saw the blood on your legs.

“Come here, let’s go inside. I already called the police before I came outside… They can get you to a doctor”

You began to panic at the mention of the police. 

“I can’t” You cried. “My legs.. I can’t move”

The old man put his gun aside and walked over to you to give you a hand. You stumbled onto your new legs but felt more familiar with them as you walked with him into his home.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier. You must have been through a lot tonight..” He began to say to you.

You remained silent and continued to focus on your legs. 

“Are you from around this area? You must be scared all out here by yourself” He continued.

You finally shook your head. “I’m not from here. And scared?” You asked. “No, are you?”

The man looked at you and smiled

“No”

You smiled back and then moved your hands up to gently grab his face.

“Thank you… but you should be” You replied. 

The smile that was present before began to fade away at your words. Before he could process what was going to happen next, you opened your mouth to reveal your mermaid teeth and took a bite out of his neck, instantly killing him.

You ate what you could. After finishing your first real meal in months, you sighed in content. Still covered in blood, you knew you had to clean up if you wanted to get out unnoticed. You dragged what parts remained of the man and moved it off to the side. It was a shitty job, but you were in a rush and needed to clean yourself up. 

You took off to look around his home and soon found a bath. Unsure of what could happen, you carefully got in and remembered what your mother told you. If enough water touched you, you could turn back into a mermaid here.

You turned the knob and sure enough, your tail came back. Desperate, you cleaned and dried  yourself quickly and found what clothes you could.

You left the man's home and made your way further into town. You didn’t know where you were going but you knew you had to get away. Behind you, sirens had begun to go off. Unsure of where to go, you quickly turned into the next building to get away.

As you walked in, smooth music began to play in front of you. You continued forward and into the room. 

“Party of one?” A young woman asked from behind a desk. 

You continued looking around.

“What is this place?” You asked.

The woman looked at you surprised. “Oh is this your first time here? This is a jazz club! The only one in town!”

She was much too chipper for you.

“Jazz club?” You asked.

“Yes, and the next show is about to start soon too! Let me get you seated” She quickly looked at her seating chart and then back to you. “I’m sorry but is a bar seat okay for now? This is our busiest time”

You thought of the police outside and nodded.

“That will be fine, thank you”

She smiled widely and led you in. “Follow me”

True to her words, the club was filled with patreons. She led you through a group of people and pointed to the bar.

“Have a seat and someone should be over to help you soon!”

As you sat down, you looked at the bottles in front of you and let out a sigh in relief. You were away from all the police outside but now you were in another new territory. Would alcohol have an effect on you? Water though ... if enough water were to come in contact with your skin, you would instantly turn back into a mermaid and give your position away.

“Hi beautiful, can I buy you a drink?” A raspy voice called.

Was this really how humans courted each other?

You turned and saw a plump man with way too much cologne on. Either way, he could be your next meal if you planned everything correctly.

“I would love one” You replied.

“What would you like?” He asked smiling.

Your knowledge on types of drinks were too limited.

“Why don’t you decide?” You replied.

The man smiled and signaled a bartender over.

“Two gin and tonics, please”

“Coming right up” A young man replied from behind you.

You turned to look up at the bartender and was taken back by the man behind the counter. For the first time in your life, it felt as if the world had stopped spinning as you looked at the person in front of you. Raven haired and skin kissed ever so lightly by the sun. His rolled up sleeves also revealed what looked like art on his arms.

“I haven’t seen you around.. first time here?” He asked breaking your concentration. He smiled and you could tell that your face was burning.

“Uhh.. Yeah..” You replied. “I just heard about it and decided to come check it out”

The man simply smiled again  and nodded as he scooped up some ice.

“Well, welcome to The Foundry. I’ll be making your drinks tonight”

You nodded and continued to watch him.

“Thanks..”

“What’s your name?” He asked.

“Y/N” You replied.

“That’s a pretty name” He replied.

“What’s yours?” You asked.

“Jungkook”

A loud cough was suddenly heard behind you. Too preoccupied with the bartender, you forgot about the man who ordered you the drink in the first place.

“I think your boyfriend is calling you” Jungkook said.

You shook your head and gave out an embarrassed laugh.

“He’s not my boyfriend. I don’t even know who he is, to be honest” You replied rather too loudly.

He tilted his head slightly and chuckled. “Ah, I think he heard”

You turned and saw your next meal angrily walking away.

Damn. 

But you didn’t really care. At the moment, you just wanted to know more about Jungkook.

“How long have you worked here?” You asked.

“Too long” He replied. “But ever so often, someone as beautiful as you comes in and makes me realize that my job isn’t too bad after all”

You laughed and he joined in.“Does that line actually work?” You asked.

He winked at you. “I guess we’ll see, right?”

“Bar tender!” Someone yelled.

Jungkook peered over. “Sorry. Work duties. If you need me, just call me over”

You nodded and then turned back to face the crowded room. It was a rather dark club, but the atmosphere was perfect with the music and crowd. 

“What are you doing here?” A deep voice asked you. “You’re quite far from home, aren’t you?”

You turned around and saw another young man next to you now. Unlike the plump man who had got away or the bar tender.. this man was different. Nonetheless, what was with men and them questioning you?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” You replied.

“Quite the bullshit. I could smell you from a mile away”

You were taken back by his words. Just kill him and go! Your mind told you.

“Leave me alone” You replied, not wanting to cause a scene.

“Bartender!” You called.

 You continued to sit at the bar by yourself and waited for Jungkook to come back.

“Ah! Good! You’re back” You told him.

Jungkook grinned but stopped when he saw who was behind you.

“Taehyung… is something wrong?” He asked.

“Taehyung?” You asked back..

Tae looked at you for a moment and then back at Jungkook.

“Actually, there is..” Taehyung took a hand and wrapped it around your shoulder. “My sister from out of town just decided to surprise me.. I’m a bit shocked”

Jungkook looked over at you.

“You didn’t tell me you were related to the boss”

You looked over at Tae to try and figure out what game he was playing. Tae simply smiled and waited for your response.

“Surprise?” You nervously cheered.

“Let’s get her some food, now!” Tae suddenly ordered.

“I’m the bartender, not the cook” Jungkook objected from under his breath.

Tae looked at Jungkook with a silencing glare. Remembering his place, Jungkook quickly fumbled around for something to write on and with.

“What would you like to eat?” He asked as he grabbed a nearby pen.

“I don’t know… Anything, really…”

“Get her the number one. Say it’s on the house.” Taehyung answered.

Jungkook nodded and then turned to look at you. “I’ll be back with your food. Enjoy the show, okay?”

You nodded and soon Jungkook was gone. 

You turned and saw that Taehyung was still standing by you.

“Sister??” You asked. You laughed. There was no way! “Who are you?”

“I don’t have time to discuss this with you right now. Come to my office upstairs when it’s over.. We’ll talk later”

You were skeptical. Not only did you not know who he was, now he wanted you alone in a room with him?

“What makes you think I want to go there?” You questioned.

He smirked and leaned in. “You’re a mermaid” He whispered into your ear.

You stopped. “How did you know?” You asked.

He gave you a wink and left.

Was he one too?

Taehyung made his way to the center stage and the room became silent around him. The lights dimmed and soon all eyes were on him as he began to sing a soulful song. You looked around the room and saw that the audience seemed to be in a trance. They swayed to his words and looked blissfully unaware. You looked over at Tae again. He grinned and it seemed as if he knew that you were finally connecting the dots together. He was a mermaid as well.

You watched in awe. You have heard about the power of a siren’s song but never like this. While it was common to set one man on a boat in a trance so he would crash or go overboard, you had never seen a full room turn all at once.

“Your brother is really good” Jungkook said startling you. In his hands was your meal, a plate of perfectly cooked fish next to some greens.

“He is, isn't he?” You replied as he set it down.

“Do you sing too?” Jungkook asked.

You continued to listen to Tae.

“Yeah, but not as good as him”

---

You climbed up the backstairs behind the stage once the performance was over and knocked on the door to Taehyung’s office. The door opened and once again you were led into a strange new place. Much like the club downstairs, the room was adorned in the same manner. In all honesty, the word “office” was an exaggeration as it seemed more like an actual living space.

“Have a seat” Taehyung said.

You did as you were told and waited for an explanation from him.

“According to legends, I’m supposed to be the one seducing you with my voice. How did you learn to sing like that?” You asked.

He laughed as if he had heard that question one too many times.

”Practice” He admitted.

You looked around the room. He definitely had a taste for finer things.

“How long have you been living on land now?” You asked.

“For a while. My parents…. they wanted a better life for me and so they helped me to cross over.” 

Tae looked over at you. “I don’t even have to ask you. I know that you’re new”

“What gave it away?” You asked confused. You thought you had done a pretty good job of not getting caught so far.

“Your scent and the way you were dressed” He answered.

You looked down at the mismatched item of clothing and felt embarrassed.

“My options were pretty limited.” You admitted.

“What do you mean?” Tae asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I needed clothes… and so I took it from the first person I saw.”

“What do you mean the first person you saw? Did you kill someone already?” Taehyung asked.

“Of course I did. How do you think I got these ugly clothes?”

Taehyung sighed. “I knew you were trouble the moment you walked in… god, there must be cops everywhere trying to fish you out.”

You waved your hands in protest. “No one saw me, I swear!”

He shook his head now.“You don’t know that… and now you probably brought them straight here”

He looked at you again and you became nervous. As opposed to Jungkook who had a kind look to him, both were handsome in their own right but Taehyung gave off a stern look. For a moment, you thought he was going to kick you out.

“If they come in, stick to the story of being my sister.” Taehyung said surprising you.

You looked at him wide eyed and shocked.

“You’re letting me stay here with you?”

Taehyung looked annoyed but nodded. “Of course I am. You’ll probably get caught and die out there without me. I don’t want that on my conscious.”

You glared at him for a moment, but it was true. You didn’t know much and now you had shelter and possibly a new friend.

He got up from his seat to retrieve some items stored in a cabinet nearby. “There’s a bath in the room over there. I’m assuming you know how to use it? Clean yourself properly. Once you’re dried up and in human form again, put on this uniform and come back down.”

Before you could object, Taehyung had thrown something your way.

“What is this?” You asked.

“Do you sing?” He asked ignoring your question.

“I’m a mermaid” You answered. “You know that I do”

“Great. That is your new uniform then” He replied.

“Uniform?” You asked.

“You’re gonna have to work for me if you want to stay.. plus it can be your alibi for now. When word gets out that someone was killed, the police will be going around town. You’re a new face here and an easy target, Y/N. If anyone asks, tell them you are my sister and that you are from out of town. If they continue to ask about you, say you desperately needed a job and that's why you are here.”

He turned back to you and noted the confusion on your face. From across the room, you stared at the flimsy looking material and contemplated throwing it back at him but stopped as he was right.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“I’ve never worked before” You confessed. “At least not here on land. I’m used to the sea…”

For a moment, it seemed as if Taehyung understood but then continued. “Don’t worry too much about it. I’ll be here. Plus, I’ll have someone show you around. Now hurry up so we can get back downstairs before anyone suspects anything”

You got up from your seat and walked over to him. 

“What is it now?” He asked.

“Thank you.” You said. “I mean it.” 

“Don’t thank me yet, Y/N.You have yet to survive the human world”

----

Read PT.2 Here

Masterlist

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

Ginsberg, Again

PART SEVEN OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: mentions of death, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 4.2K

Summary: To avoid Mother’s Day, Ella takes a spontaneous journey to the park where David Lee Roth was arrested.

A sleepy Thursday at the diner and Ella was almost finished with her sketch of the streetlamp across the way. Upon doing the preliminary line work, she found it dull, so she had added a UFO circling above it to spice up the drawing. The clinking of mugs filled her ears, but the diner was only moderately populated. Luke was busy filling out some spreadsheet, stealing glances over at the staircase every few minutes. Jess was due downstairs at any moment. Near the front window, Rory sat with piles of notes and textbooks out in front of her. Having overhead Luke and Lorelai, Ella knew Rory had been tasked with tutoring Jess, who was in danger of repeating the eleventh grade. Ella did not envy Rory. She’d only run into Jess a handful of times in the hallways of school, and though they had no classes together, she’d certainly heard tales of his insubordination and mischief. Just as she had finished the shading on the face of the alien through the window of the spaceship, Jess bounded down the stairs. His face brightened when he saw Ella at the counter, immediately taking up the stool across from her.

“Okay, honey, prepare to be amazed,” he began, shuffling his deck of cards before she had even looked up at him.

She scoffed at the name, shutting her battered sketchbook in fear of him catching a glimpse of her work. “Dazzle me.”

It only took him one attempt to guess her card and she smiled proudly.

“It’s Houdini himself,” she appraised.

“And…” he trailed off, grabbing a shiny red apple and a dish towel from a ways down the counter. Showing her the empty sides of the towel, he feigned the apple appearing out of nowhere from beneath it.

Her smile grew, taking the apple as he held it out to her. “Also good. But I’m not the teacher you should be giving the fruit to now, am I?”

Jess sighed heavily as she munched on the apple. “I swore off institutional education long ago.”

She rolled her eyes. “Calm down, Nietzche. You’ll only have to get over yourself for a couple hours so you can stay in this small town utopia.” As she spoke, she gestured to the town around them.

“Well, it’s off to the salt mines, I guess,” he said, head hanging low in resignation.

Ella chuckled at his theatrics and gave his shoulder a gentle push in Rory’s direction. “Yes, I pity you. Now, go.”

.   .   .

About sixty pages in to White Oleander, though she had read it two times before, Ella was enjoying the decadent prose when the phone broke the silence of her bedroom. A smell of lavender, the plant for luck, calmed her as the candles on one of her crate nightstands burned slowly. The flickering flames were the only ones which lit the room. Clearing her throat, she sat up against her pillows and took the old white phone, sitting on the floor in the corner, off the receiver. She expected Lane, though she didn’t call nearly ever. However, Lane’s nearly-never calls were pretty much the only ones she ever received on her landline. The separate number was one she had installed herself, after her mother died, a cheap phone bought at Radioshack with her first paycheck from Luke’s. She knew she would need a form of communication Fiona didn’t have to pay for, to lorde over her during their screaming matches.

“Hello?” she answered.

“Eleanor?”

She furrowed her brows. “Jess?”

“The one and only,” he joked through the line, though she could tell his heart wasn’t in it. She couldn’t hear the smirk in his voice like she usually could.

“What’s wrong?” she asked quickly, her heart in her throat. Since her mother’s death, any sign of trouble made her stomach sink, no matter how small the issue turned out to be.

“It’s that obvious, huh?”

“Jess. What’s wrong?” she repeated, swallowing dryly.

He heaved a tired sigh. “I’m going back to New York. Tonight.”

She was rendered silent for a moment, the information registering. “Oh. What...What the hell? Did something happen? Is it your mom? Do you-”

“Honey, just shut up for a second, okay?” he cut in, and she didn’t even have time to be annoyed about the pet name. “Rory and I...I screwed up. Tonight after we…” Jess stopped to sigh again.

“You don’t have to-”

“I crashed her car. Rory broke her wrist.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus, are you okay?” she asked urgently, running an anxious hand through her hair.

Jess uttered a noise between a laugh and a scoff. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m indestructible. I thought you knew that by now.”

Ella cleared her throat again and struggled to find words. “Mariano, I-”

“Look, I gotta get going in a second. But, I uh...I got your phone number from Luke’s address book and if it’s cool I’ll give you a call when I get there?”

Taken aback, Ella couldn’t help but let out a doubtful laugh. “Um...yeah, sure. Of course.”

“Good,” he said shortly.

There was a prolonged silence, full of words Ella couldn’t grasp, feelings she couldn’t articulate.

“So,” she said, her free hand fiddling with the hem of her quilt nervously. “Don’t forget to call me, okay? No matter how late it is. I’ll worry you got mugged or something.”

“Yeah,” he said, almost fondly. “I know, Stevens. So...I’ll see you.”

“Yep. Bye, Jess.”

“Bye.”

The line went dead, and she spent one moment still clutching the phone to her ear, listening to the monotonous final tone. Once she hung up, she tried to keep reading, but found herself distracted. Why the hell did he want to call her? The entire conversation felt unreal the moment it was over, and she knew she should have asked more questions. Though she was aware the news and rumors about the car accident would spread through town like wildfire, everyone glad to be rid of the local Antichrist, otherwise known as Jess Mariano. But there were so many other pieces she felt were missing, even if she couldn’t really name what they were. She thought of how dull her shifts would now seem without Jess to argue with about books and music, to laugh with while she closed, to reprimand and call a jackass. Maybe the peace she’d once enjoyed would return, but she already knew how different, how lacking, it would feel.

.   .   .

Clutching her books to her chest, Ella checked her watch every few seconds waiting for Lane to arrive. Again, Lane had been grounded for some random transgression. But they’d made plans to meet before school and go for pancakes. Ella was too nervous to actually step foot inside the diner alone. She knew Luke would give her those small, sympathetic glances. Especially after Mother’s Day last year. Lane had agreed to be her emotional backup, joining her for breakfast and shielding her from all the dead Mom reminders. Breathing out a sigh, Ella checked her watch again and knew they wouldn’t have time for Luke’s pancakes before school anyway. She was glad at least the morning air was warm, and she could wear her flowy black sundress, covered in tiny pink flowers. She thought wearing her favorite outfit, complete with her black boots and fishnets, would raise her spirits. Of course, the get-up was yet another reason she had to steer clear of the Kim residence for fear of incurring Mrs. Kim’s wrath.

Suddenly, Lane appeared from the front door of the antique shop and sprinted over. “Ella! I am so sorry, I had to-”

“Lane?” Ella said, looking up from her gaze on her shoes with a resigned tone.

Immediately, Lane lost all her joy and urgency. Her face fell and saw the redness in Ella’s eyes, her sleepless features. “What?”

“I can’t do this today. Look, can you cover for me? Tell everyone I’m sick, or something? Get my homework?” she ventured, looking around suspiciously.

Lane narrowed her eyes and put a hand on Ella’s arm. “Yeah...but where are you going?”

A wicked smirk covered Ella’s tired face. “I don’t know. Somewhere I’ve never been before.”

.   .   .

Even the air and the light were different in New York, though she figured it was probably the multiple kinds of pollution permeating the atmosphere. The local bus had a smell like pine which was not altogether unwelcome, and she was able to finish annotations for an article in earth science class. Squealing tires screeched in her ears as the bus stopped outside Washington Square Park where Jess told her he often hung out on the less than rare occasion he cut class. Her stomach churned anxiously as she ran her hands through her messy hair, loose and wavy. Of all the places she’d never been, New York seemed the most feasible, not quite so far away, a place where she had contacts. She needed to get away from Stars Hollow, away from the memories, away from the life she hadn’t asked for, where she carried baggage which didn’t even belong to her.

Descending the stairs of the bus, Ella clutched her messenger bag, heavy with the books she’d originally packed for school, tightly at her side. As soon as her feet hit the concrete, a smile crossed her face. She was really in New York. And she’d gone all on her own, from the station to the local bus, and she didn’t have to deal with any of the Mother’s Day flower sales or the sad looks whenever she entered a room. For a moment, she watched the streets on either side, the bustling people, as the bus rolled away and she had officially arrived. It took almost no time at all to see Jess’s dark hair sticking up from a bench across the road. She didn’t need to see the other side of him to know he was knee deep in a book. Rushing over the crosswalk, Ella felt excitement rising in her stomach, though fears of being run over also thumped against her chest. She plopped down next to him on the park bench and caught a glance at the cover of his book and scoffed.

“Ginsberg, again?” she asked dejectedly. “And you think I’m predictable.”

Jess looked calm as he recognized her voice and smirked at her appearance. “Always. What are you doin’ here, honey?”

Groaning, she threw her head back dramatically. “Again with the ‘honey.’”

“Hey, I’ve only been gone a month. Not everything changes,” he shrugged, saving his place in his book and stuffing it in the back pocket of his worn jeans.

“We talk on the phone almost every day. The ‘honey’ thing was dead, or so I thought.” She shook her head, speaking with her hands.

“It’s not as gratifying when I don’t get to see you almost ready to murder me,” he explained, smug as ever.

She rolled her eyes. “It’s a little sexist, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean?”

“Calling girls ‘honey,’ Jess. Keep up. It’s the twenty-first century,” she said, exasperated.

Jess shook his head and ran a hand over his mouth, a nervous reflex. “I don’t call girls ‘honey,’ I call you ‘honey.’”

She snorted a laugh, missing the redness which colored the tips of his ears. “If that’s supposed to make me feel special, it doesn’t.”

“It was supposed to make you feel unlucky, actually.”

“Well, then you’ve succeeded, jackass,” she said, though she had a fond look.

Jess grinned and cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest curiously. “So, what the hell are you doing here, Stevens?”

Ella shrugged, cavalier as she stared across the park and the May breeze blew the hair back from her freckled face. “Working on my spontaneity. This was a preliminary exercise.”

Narrowing his eyes, he nodded slowly. Ella tried to quiet the memories flashing before her vision, screaming through her mind. She hoped Jess wouldn’t notice. Her heart was yearning for adventure, something positive. Anything positive. Jess looked down momentarily, mulling something over. Then, he eyed her again with a smirk on his lips.

“You wanna go somewhere?”

“Anywhere.”

“Well, that narrows it down a bit.”

.   .   .

“Y’know, it’s just like you to hang out in Washington Square Park in the middle of a school day,” she scoffed, then taking a bite of one of the hot dogs they’d bought off a street vendor. It was salty, but good. The mid-day lull had hit the city, and the streets were only slightly overcrowded as they weaved around.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, chuckling.

“I don’t know. Not quite as mainstream as central park, it’s got that David Lee Roth thing. Very Jess.”

“I don’t appreciate being typecast,” he joked, watching her from the corner of his eye.

“Hey,” she said, shrugging. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

“Whatever. I’m not the Stevie Nicks groupie here.”

“If you think that’s an insult, you’re wrong.”

.   .   .

After a trip to the record store, they strolled along with shopping bags in hand. Jess had paid in crumpled ones, but still scored an Iggy Pop record to add to his meager collection. Still, Ella insisted he wait to buy any CDs until she was gone again, so as not to offend her delicate vinyl sensibilities. Watching out of the corner of his eye, Jess noticed the holes in the knees of Ella’s fishnets and the shine of her frizzy blonde hair in the afternoon light. The moment was so surreal, his worlds colliding. She looked oblivious to his gaze, though, drinking the city in. He felt tempted to laugh at the excitement she radiated at the novelty. Even on the subway, with its stale smell and flickering lights, she’d managed to maintain a level of amazement Jess found baffling. After a few moments, Jess chose to break the serene silence between them. They walked so close he could feel their arms brushing against each other.

“Explain to me why you bought all that relentless melancholia?” he asked, having kept quiet since he’d noticed her placing her choices on the register in the shop, punk music blaring over the stereo system. She’d bought three records: Kurt Cobain, Elliot Smith, and The Velvet Underground.

“There is a time and a place for it,” she argued. “We can’t all sustain a diet of constant screamo and metal, y’know.”

Jess shook his head, and chuckled but said nothing. In his natural environment, he was much the same, but his gait was marked with fatigue. His footsteps were heavier. She wondered what his home life was like in such a big city, where he could wander around on a school day without anyone asking after him. A wave of sadness rolled over her, and she again thought of mother’s day. They passed a cart selling flowers, and the smell wafted off the blooms in sickly sweet clouds. It made her stomach twist into a knot, her mind clouded with thoughts for the both of them. When she returned home, everything would be the same. No one would know where she’d been. And the whole excursion would be nothing but a memory, a painting she could touch but could never live again. She sighed lightly, staring ahead as they walked. Jess cast her a sidelong glance, nudging her with his elbow.

“So, where to next?”

Pursing her lips, she thought for a moment. “A place you like to look at.”

.   .   .

Litter peppered the grassy hill overlooking the Hudson river. The engines of the cars which crossed the bridge over the river sputtered with exhaust, adding to the smoggy haze of the air. Clouds had hung in the sky all day, and the air was muggy, but Ella felt light with content. She could hear the slight current of the water under the traffic, and it was oddly tranquil despite the overall grimy atmosphere of the city. People milled about on the sidewalk behind them, their designer shoes clicking away on the gray stone. The sounds swarmed around her and created a comforting sea of white noise. Jess took a seat on the hill without saying a word, and Ella followed suit.

“Good choice, Mariano.”

“Thank you,” he smiled, watching as her eyes lit up at the sight of the water. “In Stars Hollow, there’s the lake. So, I figured, here, there’s the river.”

Ella nodded, beginning to dig through her bag. “You come here a lot?”

“Sometimes,” he said, shrugging a little.

“Oh, he’s so demure,” she teased, then found her sketchbook amongst the hodge podge of items in her bag. Jess watched with a raised eyebrow as she brought out a pencil along with the book. However, she didn’t begin drawing. The weathered moleskin was closed on the ground between them, and Jess didn’t think before he took it and ran his fingers over the cover.

“Can I look?” he asked expectantly.

She turned to him with a suspicious look, eyes narrowed. Then, after a moment, she blew out a tired sigh and nodded, pursing her lips. “Yeah. But if you laugh I’ll tell the principal you were the one who took all the dry erasers.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he warned jokingly.

“Well, the stakes are high in New York, aren’t they?” she said offhandedly, her eyes trained on the river. A huge VW Van rolled over the bridge, and it reminded her of pictures from the Haight-Ashbury circa 1967 in the old edition of TIME Luke had in the stock room.

Scoffing, Jess opened the sketchbook up to the first page, which was slightly yellowed with age. He wondered how long she had been carrying the book around with her. The first drawing was of a vase of flowers, but upon further inspection he found the centers of the blooms had mouths full of sharp vampire’s teeth. He skimmed through the others, similar nature scenes with various ghoulish elements. A few pages away from the remaining blank ones, he stopped short. The shading around the figure was dark, but in the center was the face of a beautiful woman, with the light shading of a skull underneath. He ran a figure over the eyes of the skull and brought his hand back again, hoping to avoid smudging.

“This one is…” he began, then trailed off. She glanced over at him, then felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment. She’d drawn it only a few days earlier.

“Not my best,” she muttered, hoping to deflect his attention from it.

He laughed in disbelief. “Are you kidding? This is amazing.”

“You don’t have to lie.”

“Stevens, seriously. You’re a fucking artist,” he told her earnestly, staring down at the drawing.

“Well, thank you,” she said, quieting the anxious swirling her stomach. Her heart fluttered. It was rare she showed anyone her drawings, even Lane or Rory. But again, the surreal quality of the moment made her feel as though there would be lesser consequences. Maybe Jess wouldn’t remember her drawing later, as though it were a dream, like she imagined the day would feel the moment she left the city.

He cleared his throat, studying her unreadable expression. “Is it a self portrait? Looks a little like you.”

A bitter laugh escaped her lips and she didn’t look at him while she spoke. “No, actually, it’s my mom. Everyone always says how much we look alike.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, a sarcastic smile crossing her face. “Oh.”

“Mother’s Day, huh?” he asked knowingly.

Furrowing her brows, Ella finally faced him. “You keep track of the Hallmark holidays, Mariano?”

Jess snorted. “I don’t subscribe to them, but I am aware of them.”

“I think they should be eradicated.”

“Agreed.”

Biting the inside of her cheek, she nodded and looked back at the river. It was murky and green, no doubt polluted beyond recognition, but it still wasn’t half bad to look at. Jess noticed the way her fingers, with clipped black polish on the nails, drummed an antsy tune on her leg. He held the sketchbook back out to her and she gave him a grateful half-smile before cracking it open and beginning to draw.

“You okay?” he asked, breaking through the lengthy, but comfortable, silence.

Her smile grew a little more, and her shoulders visibly relaxed. “Always, Jess. It’s just one day. And I don’t particularly care about it. It’s the people back home.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, if you hadn’t noticed, the town of Stars Hollow isn’t known for minding its own business,” she said.

“Yeah, I kinda picked up on that,” he replied, watching her pencil slide across the page.

Occasionally, she stopped drawing and straightened up a little, appraising her work. Using the pad of her pinky, she shaded the clouds above the bridge, transforming the sketch past just an outline. Jess leaned back on the palms of his hands, letting the time pass as late afternoon turned into evening. He found his mouth left with a bittersweet taste at the thought of her hours away from him by the end of the night.

.   .   .

Back at the Port Authority bus terminal, the air was chalky. The local bus they’d taken to get back to the station had a decidedly more pleasant feel than the one Ella was about to board. But the ride wasn’t too long, and she still had plenty of school work she could finish on the way. They stood facing each other at the head of the bus, with five minutes until she absolutely had to board. Jess had his hands stuffed in his pockets, his shirt adorned with obscenities and the name of some obscure punk band. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, leaning back against the bus for one final moment of escape before climbing back out of the rabbit hole.

“So, how was the tour?” Jess asked.

Humming in thought, Ella glanced up at the splotchy ceiling for a moment before returning her eyes to him. “I’ll give you a seven.”

“Hey, if it’s passing, I’ll take it,” he said, shrugging.

She laughed. “Not a bad maxim. And I guess it's back to Washington Square Park with you?”

“Guess so. It’s a prime spot to brood.”

“I’m glad you’re finally owning your narrative.”

Jess smirked. “Well, if I’m owning mine, you gotta own yours. Show those pictures to someone important.”

Ella shook her head, then stopped for a moment and reached her free hand into her shoulder bag. Placing the shopping bag filled with her new records between her teeth, she flipped to the page where she’d drawn the bridge and ripped it out as neatly as she could along the perforation. Jess watched in confusion as she retrieved a pencil from her bag, she signed her name and dated the drawing in the lower right corner. When she’d tucked everything back into their rightful spots, she held the drawing out to Jess.

“We’ll call this a baby step.”

Letting out a small laugh, Jess took the drawing and studied the messy signature, a grin coming over his face. He brought the book from his back pocket and stuck the drawing in between the pages for safekeeping. “Thanks. I’ll make millions off this someday.”

She snickered and threw a look down at her watch. Two minutes left before departure. “Don’t patronize me, Mariano.”

“Don’t doubt yourself, Stevens,” he shot back immediately, with more sincerity than she was prepared for.

Shaking her head, she ignored the gravity of the moment.

“I think that’s all motivational speaking I can handle. I gotta get back. You sure you don’t wanna return to Hell with me?” she asked, only half-joking.

“I think the moment I step foot beyond town lines I’ll be struck down by the powers that be,” he said, a chuckle in his voice, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He ran a hand over his mouth.

She sighed through her nose and nodded. “Alright, fine. But in my considered opinion, you shouldn’t let those old gossips run you out of town. Sometimes when the world bites you, you gotta bite back.”

Jess raised his eyebrows. “And I’m the motivational speaker here?”

She rolled her eyes and started towards the bus. “You’re impossible.”

“Same to you,” he called as she boarded, and she shot him one final teasing glare before she turned the corner into the aisle.

Jess watched her blonde head move down row after row through the small windows, and when she finally stopped two seats from the back, he rushed down and shouted to her, hoping she could hear him through the thick window pane.

“Stevens!”

Furrowing her brows, she found Jess standing outside her window, uttering muffled words she couldn’t decipher. She groaned impatiently and raised the glass to hear him.

“Come again?” she asked.

“I said, I’ll call you later tonight. Don’t forget to pick it up. I’ll worry you got kidnapped or something.”

A smug smile crossed her lips. “Ah, I’m rubbing off on you.”

“I avoided it as long as I could,” he shrugged, smiling back.

“I won’t forget,” she assured him. “Bye, Jess.”

“Bye, Eleanor.”

And as soon as she shut the window once again, he was out of sight, meandering back to the station’s exit. A moment later, the bus driver released the break, a shrill squeak sounding. Swallowing dryly, Ella settled into her seat and prepared for the long drive back to reality.

[theblackberrygirl]

Can you do Situation prompt 2 and dialogue like 1 for Hotch and whoever in the bookshop fic from the Halloween prompt list?? 🥰

YES I CAN DEFINITELY DO THAT.

Emily and Hotch, pre-relationship but can be read as platonic, Adventures of a Little Mountain Bookshop

Prompts: Haunted house, “I am not going in there.”

Word Count: 1030

Humor

“What was that?!” Hotch squeaked in an oddly high voice.

“It was probably just the bats,” Emily laughed.

“Bats?! You didn’t tell me there was going to be bats!”

“We’re on a Colorado mountain trail at night, what did you expect? Butterflies?” She laughed as she ran ahead.

“Why on earth did I agree to do this with you?” He grumbled as he struggled to catch up.

It was about 2:50 in the morning. The stars shined brightly overhead and the trees swayed gently in the cool night breeze. In the distance, you could hear a babbling creek, or maybe a waterfall.

“Hey Hotch?” Emily said softly, not looking at him.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you... for doing this with me. I haven’t done this road before, and I know this isn’t really your style,” she gestured to the wilderness around them. “I know I can be kind of harsh sometimes too.”

“Of course. It is beautiful out here. The stars. We didn’t have stars like these back in Pennsylvania. I mean, we did, but we lived near a coal mine with lots of air pollution, and then also pretty close to the city, so lots of light pollution. The stars here? They’re beautiful.”

“Yeah. That’s one of the reasons I decided to move out here. I’ve mainly grown up in big cities all my life, and I wanted a break, you know?” Their peaceful moments was cut short by Hotch jumping out of his pants in fright.

“What was that?!” He yelled. “Something was on me.”

“Probably just a spider,” she said nonchalantly as she brushed the back of his shirt, trying to knock off whatever had scared him.

“Spiders?!”

“Why are you so surprised by everything? Yes, spiders, spiders are literally everywhere.”

Hotch put his head in his hands. He did not like spiders at all. He sat on the rock and breathed for a minute, trying to let the last of the adrenaline filter out. When he finally looked up again, Emily was no where to be found.

“Emily?” He called into the dark.

“Over here!” She called back from behind a thick grove of trees. He quickly jogged over to where she was.

“Emily, what are you...” he didn’t bother to finish his sentence. Right in front of them was a large, rundown Victorian house. The windows were boarded up and the paint was chipped, but it was still standing.

“Come on, let’s go!” She said as she grabbed Hotch’s hand, pulling him towards the house. Hotch remained exactly where he was.

“Emily, there are a lot of things I would do for you, but going into an obvious haunted house is not one of them.”

“How do you know the ghosts aren’t nice ones?”

“Have you ever seen a ghost movie? The ghosts are never nice. I am not going in there.”

“Ok Scaredy-cat, you stay out here then,” she smiled, before running up the front steps and into the front door.

“Emily! I- fuck,” he groaned as he ran into the house after her. “Goddamnit Em, where’d you go?”

After several jumps and wrong turns later, he found her. She was sitting at a table with a... oh no. Oh FUCK no. She was sitting at the table with... a ghost. She was wearing a floor length ballgown, with flowers embroidered over it. The entire dress was grey, to match the rest of her. Her hair was pulled up into a bun. There was a layer of fog in the room, but...

“Why does she look like Alex?” He asked, drawing the two’s attention to him.

“Hey Hotch. Glad you decided to join us. This is Anna, Alex’s grandmother.”

“No, this isn’t real. Ghosts aren’t real,” Hotch insisted, rubbing his eyes.

“You sure about that? Look behind you.” The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Slowly, he turned around. Nothing was there. Then suddenly, a small figure swooped down from the ceiling, sending Hotch flying backwards.

Someone (or something) caught him under his arms and dragged him into a chair. All around him, grey, wispy figures were running around, laughing eerily. The lights were flickering on md off quickly, doors were slamming. Someone touched the back of his neck.

He spun around, trying to get a glimpse of who it was. “Emily! Emily, call them off, they’ll listen to you!” He yelled frantically. Oh my god, what if one of them grabbed Emily? He thought nervously.

“Ok, ok guys, leave him alone,” he heard Emily’s voice through the fog. The figures all stopped running around, and the fog slowly began to dissipate. Standing in front of him was Derek, Penelope, James, Tara, Kate, and Elle, all dressed in either grey suits or grey dresses. Even Gideon and Rossi were there, although they were dressed in all black, unlike the others. They had been the ones slamming the doors and flashing the lights.

Alex was still sitting next to Emily at the table, but now the fog machine that had been hidden under her skirt was turned off and next to her.

“But wait, where’s Spencer?”

“Over here,” his little voice called. Hanging upside down in the doorway like a bat hung Spencer. “Derek rigged up a trapeze bar for me to swing down on so I could scare you,” he explained as he swung down to the ground.

“But... you said you had never been on this road before,” he said to Emily.

“Yeah, technically, that wasn’t a lie. I’ve never walked up that road, I just normally took the lifts to this house instead of walking. Same destination, different ways of getting here.”

“Happy Halloween,” Alex laughed.

“I’m going to kill all of you. Starting with you,” he pointed at Emily. She smiled at him, but that quickly faded when he started running towards her. The group quickly dissapated and took off into the house, except for Derek, James, Rossi, Gideon, and Tara.

“Front steps are base, the dumbwaiter is jail!” Spencer yelled.

“So we’re playing cops and robbers, well I guess ghosts and humans in this case, in an old Victorian house?” Tara asked.

Hotch shrugged. “What could go wrong?”

[nincompoopydoo]

Trouble Man

Pairing: Sam Wilson x reader Words: 1.5k Summary: You and Sam Wilson are neighbors. Never spoke a word a to one another but somewhat developed an unhealthy crush on each other. As a series of unfortunate events that began with the burning of spaghetti, you find yourself entangled in a mess of the appreciation for Marvin Gaye and your fear of cockroaches with the very man himself. Note: Oooo an unrequested Sam Wilson one shot? Yeap, that’s right darlings. Been wanting to write one for awhile now. Not exactly my best but it’s alright. Cute cute and fluffy stuff. Enjoy xo [ REWRITTEN ON 14/08/2021 ] Masterlist

Spaghetti. Should be easy enough.

Ah, words of the once optimist, now turned depressing pessimist. You told yourself that with a rather annoying cheery voice that echoed in your head before everything went swooping down the metaphorical hill and into the trash. You don’t do too well with simple distractions, for what you first thought was to lighten up the mood in your gloomy kitchen by singing along to an ultimate Marvin Gaye playlist.

Much to your embarrassment, you may have forgotten how sound travels far too easily, with the kitchen window opened for the whole neighborhood to hear your lovely singing. Someone might call the police, either out of spite of your contribution to noise pollution or they might think someone was being murdered, muffled by soul music.

The plate of Spaghetti stares at you mockingly from the kitchen counter, strands grazed in an odd shade of brown. Spaghetti is not supposed to be that shade of brown. With a pathetic scowl upon your lips, you gaze at the plate, wishing it smelled as good as it did. The thought of eating resides in your mind, wondering if you should just close your nose and power through the dish itself until you’re sick or throw it in the trash and feed several stray cats of D.C. when it reaches the landfill. By the looks of it, the cats probably don’t even want to eat it anyway.

You worked at a hamburger joint downtown for heaven’s sake; cooking hamburgers might as well be your only decent skill. Nevertheless, with a heavy sigh, you plopped the spaghetti into the trash. The plastic bag unceremoniously crinkles at impact as you fight back a wince.

So much for coming home early to prepare dinner. For yourself. Damn, you’re lonely. And as far as you’re concerned, only lonely people deserve microwaved leftovers from a week ago that have been sitting in the fridge for far too long. Overhead, Cleo's Apartment begins to play.

Goddamn it, Marvin Gaye.

Minutes ago, Sam Wilson had returned home from the VA, and through the jingles of his keys whilst unlocking his front door, the familiar tune of What’s Going On glides its way to his ears, ringing with the melody of your singing. He knows it’s you because as much as you don’t realize it, you sing in the kitchen very often. It’s unpleasant but he doesn’t complain because your taste in music speaks to him on another level, another plane of existence. Ever since you moved in after the previous owner passed, you had his whole heart with a single glance and a shy wave.

Courage was easy, having built that up during his military days. Yet, now that’s over, he finds himself forgetting his technique in approaching beautiful people. Deep down he knows it. Sam needs to try to talk to you. Just talking, not asking you out. That’s too much, for now.

His analytical side itches to take over—he needs a plan because walking up to your doorstep and hoping to spark up some sort of sudden conversation with you isn’t going to turn out well. So, he maps it out in his head, playing each possible scenario like he always does in bed, half-awake, wishing he had the guts to talk to you when he bumped into you at the grocery store or at the hamburger joint you work at. Coincidences usually don’t play out in his favor so, forcing it sounds like it would have a better outcome. He will wait until it’s 9:30, there’s a possibility you will be taking out the trash. Then, he’ll make his move. Hopefully.

Totally not creepy.

—

Sometimes, the universe listens. It especially listens to the thoughts of the lonely and then, some supernatural cosmic decision is made to guide two lonely beings to each other. It’s rare but happens. People call it fate. Now, fate seems to work in tandem with a certain man named Sam, who has fallen for his neighbor, who seems to feel the same way.

There’s hardly any rubbish in the trash bag within his grasp but he makes it a point to walk across the lawn despite the humidity in hopes of seeing you. Then, he hears the creaking of your front door swinging open and slamming shut. Though, all attempts to act casual fails when he ignores his previous resistance to turn and glance your way.

There you were, in an oversized Shania Twain shirt paired with track shorts—it’s very short. I mean, it’s summer after all. No one’s complaining. He’s certainly not complaining. His breath hitches when you meet his gaze, smiling sheepishly. Sam wonders if your cheeks are always this crimson and rosy. You smile, intending to hide your growing blush, heat blooming in your chest as you admire how he looks under the yellow hues of the street light, beautifully carving the structure of his face.

Then, the impossible happened.

“So, you like Marvin Gaye?” he spoke with a little too much enthusiasm. You looked at him with a wide-eyed gaze, completely caught off guard by his sudden question. Your mind is now only filled with the panic of him hearing you sing—it’s your biggest fear. Sam realizes his question may have been a little too obstructive in terms of privacy. Bad idea, really bad idea. “Sorry, just forget I ever said that. I didn’t mean to—"

"No, no. I mean, yeah, I do like Marvin Gaye. I love Marvin Gaye actually,” you cut him off in a somewhat desperate attempt to not scare him off because, in truth, you really want to talk to him. You have been meaning to for a while now. You purse your lips, deciding that elaboration is worth the risk, “Trouble Man is one of my favorites."

It’s risky because it’s an unpopular opinion and the irrational side of you is afraid that because of your weird and maybe obscure taste in music might as well turn him off. Yet, he’s not running now. Instead, Sam blinks, mouth slightly agape. A sentence runs through his mind, a quiet voice, a whisper: I think I might marry you if you don’t stop being so perfect.

Sam beams at you, "You like Trouble Man?” he asks, voice laced with amusement.

You return a smile, “Yeah, I do. It’s probably the best—OH MY GOD—” Your sudden scream cuts through the white noise of the night like a searing knife when you spot a cockroach crawling up the trash can. You dropped the trash bag on the ground and started to stagger backward.

Sam feels bad for laughing.

“Hey! Quit laughing and help me get rid of it,” you shriek, watching the insect crawl around with a mortified look. Sam snorts at your sudden burst of command. "Okay, okay. But I’m not killing it.” Turns out that isn’t enough to calm your nerves and your fear of cockroaches. “Excuse me, sir, you HAVE to slay the beast!” you yelled dramatically. He chuckles with great amusement, swiftly plucking it with his bare hands before it could run, “Now, let’s not murder our new friend here, Bernie.” He watches your face morph into an unamused look, “Bernie? Like the politician?” Sam merely hums, “Yeah. Like the politician.”

Then, he’s walking towards you, purposefully dangling poor Bernie within his grasp. You stagger in your step, yelping at the sight of Sam nearing you. “Alright, alright. I’ll get rid of Bernie,” he says through attempted suppressed laughs, flicking Bernie across the road. You can finally breathe but your eyes remain wide. “And what if he comes back?”

Sam turns to you as you return to stand at your original spot as you cautiously scan the trash bin for any more unwanted pests. He notices a stray strand of your hair, falling against your cheek. He resists the urge to push back behind your ear, reminding himself to stay casual and stay cool. "Well, you know where to find me.” He sends a somewhat smooth wink your way. You go absolutely red.

Silence once again and the two of you have seemed to have caught yourselves in some awkward dance of pining and wanting to be close to each other. Then, Sam clears his throat, deciding to speak first before he misses the opportunity once more. “I was wondering if you wanna, you know, uh, come by for a drink sometime?” It’s a simple question, really. But, Sam doesn’t know why you make him so nervous. Maybe, it’s because you’re looking at him like you can see right through him. His mind starts to wonder, overthinking once more. “I mean, if you don’t drink, it’s okay. We can have something else. I have orange juice, I think. Snacks?—”

“Now?” you stop his rambling, feeling your brain equally shutting down because you’re very confused about the whole situation. Sam pauses, slightly hesitant, “Yeah, sure. If you want to. I mean, you have work tomorrow and it’s late and—”

“Yeah, that’ll be great.” you interrupt him again, the curve of your lips widening by the second. “And maybe, we could listen to some Marvin Gaye.” You don’t exactly know what you meant or hinted but neither does he, too distracted to notice the context of your words because you’re here, smiling at him.

[phantomphangphucker]

Ectober Day 6 & 24: Silence & Nothing - Nothing To Ring In The Sound Of Silence

Logic says nothing gets to exist forever, but Danny has made a habit of defying both logic and the laws of the universe. But that’s just Danny, not everything or everyone else.

*Note: So I combined these two days in this fic because it just flowed so damn well for me. Originally this was just supposed to be for ‘Silence’ but it evolved. I didn’t really feel it long enough to break into two chapters.

It’s been a long time. A long time since everything happened. A long time since there’s been anyone. Danny stops in his floating to stare at the dilapidated statue of himself, speaking purely to hear sound, “the world’s been silent a long time”.

It hadn’t happened suddenly, of course it hadn’t. That was part of how Danny knew in his gut that he might not be able to do anything. See Danny’s problems, his fights and the catastrophes he stopped, they always popped up suddenly with great alarm. But the slow decay and breaking down of everything’s genetics had crept up on everyone.

It had started with the oldest of creatures and things. Old world ferns and bugs and birds. No one gave much of a damn besides those who truly loves those things. Sure some people mourned the extinctions, but humans had been driving things to extinction for a long time. Most of the world even rejoiced when misquotes seemed to get hit, but the fields of science went into a panic. Because with that drop, so too did many others decline in numbers; bats most notably.

But it wasn’t until some fruit plants started to go that the rest of the world began to worry. There had already been a food crisis and this would make it worse. Other people only cared that they would never get to eat another banana or leaf of lettuce again.

But the commotion was enough to get Danny curious. If this had started back when Sam was still alive, he would have paid attention sooner. But it had been a long time since her, or Tucker, or even Amity. It had hurt when the town had to be abandoned, no longer able to financially support all the excessive damage. Course Danny still protected the place, but repairs didn’t happen much. Leaving the place too destroyed to be inhabitable by humans. But Danny was part ghost, something stagnant, something that didn’t do ‘change’. So he never really left, just made Amity his lair in genuine. Modifying and altering it as he pleased. The roads glowed, the nasty burger always had ectoplasmic food even if no one worked there, buildings began repairing themselves, colours changed according to the halfas mood, etcetera. The rest of the world was perfectly content to let their saviour do as he pleased with the place and it even became something of a tourist hotspot and shrine to Phantom.

But it was also firmly a place no one wanted to actually stay in, catering to Phantom and Phantom alone. And he was weird, he’d always been weird. But after a few hundred years being stuck in between life and death. After losing all his human connections and many of his ghostly ones. He became a little too weird for most of humanity to handle long term. The snapping of fangs, the paranoia, the ease with which he could become a soldier on the battlefield, the utter disregard for his own safety, the treating of serious injuries like old friends and minor annoyances. He was too weird for most ghosts as well, the exception being other older ghosts. But most of those older ghosts were too stick in the mud or loners to be close with Phantom. An endlessly social, silly ghost filled with good-natured trickery and wanderlust. His lair was much the same, prone to playing tricks of the eye or leading people in circles. Sometimes disabling other ghosts powers at random or stealing their things only to return them as soon as the ghost left. The food that grew there, only appealing to Phantom himself. Mustard pickles that tasted of flowers, milkshakes made of frosted flakes that were somehow smooth not crunchy, apples that screamed with the texture of strawberry mousse. So while the place got plenty curious eyes and worshiping filled minds, it didn’t get any permanent residents. Other than the famous half-ghost himself.

And Danny didn’t really mind the silence, the chance to be alone, that his abandoned ghost town of a lair now granted him. It was a nice break from the constant action and sounds of battle that was his everyday life. So he relished it, the silence, the same way he relished floating lazily through the starry sky.

Smiling with nostalgia, Danny lands on the roof of the nasty burger, ghostly tail curling around the sign. Now Amity stood as one of the few places that wasn’t destroyed, that hadn’t crumbled to rot and litter. The irony of that makes Danny laugh. As he puts his head in his hand and looks up at the clear starry sky, light pollution no longer possible. He’d never thought he’d be upset about that. But he is. He is because of what it means. The lack of electricity, the lack of importance for it, the lack of humans, the lack of need for it. Danny’d always adored his night vision, did even more now, but what he wouldn’t give to get slightly blinded and startled by a fluorescent lightbulb suddenly going off. This thought gets Danny floating off the building to poke at a few lightbulbs. Sure electric had stopped being a thing in Amity long before the rest of the world. He had basically told everyone not to bother, seeing as he could and did just light the place with ectolights. What he hadn’t expected was having to eventually light the whole world with them. Now, well, now he didn’t even bother. There was no one or thing to make light for.

Danny himself hadn’t paid attention to, hadn’t really worried about, what was happening until the platypus went extinct. Other mammals rapidly following suit. And when the canines and felines got hit, that’s when the chaos started. When everyone started giving a damn in genuine. When the research got funded like crazy and became the focal point of news or awards.

Danny himself helped out by finding things for the scientist faster than any other person really could and bringing it back faster than even the best hovercoppers or jets could. This was the point where Danny managed to throw the world through another loop, surprise everyone again. No one really knew he was easily as intelligent as his sister, that his mind couldn’t decay because of his halfa state. Couple that with his body being constantly covered in a hazmat suit and being naturally antibacterial, well he was extremely helpful for the scientific and medical community. But Danny couldn’t help much when medicines couldn’t be made any more or when plastic became increasingly rare.

That was another thing about Danny and his problems. They came at him head-on and he faced them head-on. It was a battle, always something he could physically do. But not this time. This had been something marching forward slowly, decaying and eating away at all of life. So Danny did the thing he knew best and looked for ghostly reasons. Searched the Zone for any clues. And that, that’s when he truly began to worry, to freak out. Because the Zone wasn’t getting bigger, it wasn’t gaining any of the dead souls. Sure not everything that died became part of the Zone, but usually at least a third did. For nothing to be going to the Zone? That was more than just worrying, that was logically impossible. Asking around didn’t yield any results, and ClockWork had been concerningly impossible to find. In fact, Danny recalls, ClockWork had been impossible to find ever since then. Which makes him shiver, the implications of that were deeply concerning. Even if the enigmatic time ghost was supposedly immortal, like Danny. He’d even tried finding the other Ancients for answers, to no luck.

By the time he had hopped back into the mortal realm, the scientists had figured it out.

ClockWork had once told him that everything you see, everything you touch, all of it. Everything had a time limit. Everything was at the mercy of time. Even something as simple as genetics or air. And that time was apparently up. Everything’s genetics were functionally breaking down, Mother Nature being unable to reform it anew.

Danny remembers asking if they could reverse it, cloning was perfectly viable now just incredibly immoral and thus illegal. But of course, exceptions were made, except it didn’t work. No matter what they did the clones were never stable. Even cloning things as basic as chemicals failed. It’s chemical makeup or genetics turning to useless goo near instantly. As if forming those things lost was no longer even possible. In the end, Danny wasn’t too surprised, considering what he knew of Dani and her fate. Though a clone of him she had been, she wasn’t immortal, she was never truly stable. Eventually needing more and more treatments till it simply no longer lasted more than minutes. The two had made an agreement, had decided to let her fade with the closest thing to a father she ever truly had. And the closest thing to a daughter Danny would ever have. It would be unfair to bring a child into his half-life intentionally, so he never did and never would. That was a night he had grieved harder than almost any other before it, the ghosts and humans morning the loss with him, knowing exactly who and what the little black and white halfa girl was.

So with cloning written off, they had tried to create near exact replicas. Slightly changing things to try and achieve something stable yet similar enough to the original. There was some success on the smallest level before some extinct plants and missing medications became a lesser worry. Because then, then humans started to fall. Birth rates fell, till eventually there wasn’t a single baby in months. People started dying younger and younger. Started being unable to heal even paper-cuts or recover from the simplest of colds. Everyone became highly trained in first aid purely to keep their own bodies from falling apart on them. Synthetic skin and bones had never been more popular. Bionic limbs became so commonplace that seeing someone without any biometal was startling.

Danny did his part by being a highly mobile medical expert and being a pioneer in Biomech. Seeing as his very specialty was self accessing and self-treating injuries. Sure he frequently had to remind himself that these were humans and that they absolutely could not regrow limbs or liquify parts of their bodies to make reforming breaks easier. But he made it work and his knowledge had been vital for the survival of smaller towns and countries for a long time.

But then everything came to a head, Danny finally got the big impact he was used to. There wasn’t enough humans, nuclear plants were failing, safety measures weren’t being followed, people were ceasing to care. Danny tried to help keep order, but there’s only so much one guy can do. Getting any malfunctioning bombs off the planet, or cleaning water polluted with massive chemical explosions, or making sure collapsing skyscrapers didn’t destroy entire towns; took precedence over being a leader to the humans. Many parts of the world became uninhabitable in a very short amount of time and eventually, all Danny could do was check those areas himself for any change; giving reports back to the humans when he could. But it was at this point that Danny started to not relish the silence or being alone. He was too alone, everything was too quiet. No bugs buzzing, no undercurrent hum of electricity, no animal cries. It made his own voice jarringly loud in comparison, so he fell into silence more and more. Not just to avoid disturbing things or feeling too loud. But also because there started to not really be anything or anyone to talk to more and more.

He’s then reminded of a conversation he had with a young twenty-three-year-old scientist who looked something like a patchwork doll, as he floats to weave in between building windows slowly.

“It’s been a while since I’ve heard a good joke from you, Phantom”.

“Telling them to dirt and rubble feels pretty foolish”.

She had laughed, “yeah, I guess it would”, there was a sigh, a pause in the conversation, “I think maybe you should. Your humour is a pretty vital part of who you are”.

“I’m not fading. I can’t”.

“I know. It’s just. It’s worrying honesty. You always have a joke to throw around, no matter the situation or how bad. Now you seem at a loss”.

“I am at a loss. Ran out of Avengers End Game ones a while ago and those aren’t even relevant anymore. No one even knows what ‘Avengers’ is now. I ran out of material and there doesn’t really seem to be a point to saying them over again”.

“See that, that’s why it’s worrying. You may only be half-ghost, but you’re still not a creature of change. If anything you’re more inclined against change than full ghosts. And yet here you are, changed. And ghosts... ghosts only change truly when reverting back isn’t an option anymore”.

“I’m still perfectly capable of making jokes and finding humour”.

“That’s not really what I mean. I’m saying that... that I don’t really think the reason why you’re out of jokes can be reverted”.

Danny hadn’t responded to that simply watched her with sad eyes and with facts creeping into the forefront of his mind that he didn’t want to hear.

While she continued, “I think your being can tell, knows on some level, that this isn’t a battle for you to face. Isn’t an enemy you can fight. Isn’t a world for you to save. That this just can’t be fixed, can’t be stopped”.

The was a pause for a while before Danny had nodded slowly and stopped floating to sit on the counter, “I’m never one to back down or give up. But, yeah. I don’t have the drive, the protective desire, that I should”.

She had only nodded and gotten back to work.

Shaking his head to clear away the memory, that had been a big thing for him. Really realising his obsession wasn’t acting up, that he didn’t feel the need to help. It had really sealed the deal for him, as all the life around him slowly dwindled away. Which resulted in him spending more and more time with the collections of young humans, less and less time off on his own. The people noticed, seemed to understand. But also strongly had no desire to acknowledge why Phantom was spending as much time with them as he could. Like one does with a dying parent or a pet on their way to being put to sleep.  

It wasn’t long after that when Danny noticed something else, the Zone was...shrinking. Ectoplasm was seemingly beginning to decay and break down as-well. And unlike with the Mortal Realm, the most complex things went first. The most sentient of ghosts. And unlike the Mortal Realm it happened fast; in days even. Pandora’s fading had been cataclysmic, Danny had to hide away her box after ghosts kept stealing it. And that had started a long trend of Danny having to find this artifact or that potentially world-ending weapon, and hide them away. Being forced to split his time between the two dimensions as everything fell apart. Both sides had noticed this change in behaviour. Commenting that Phantom seemed like a man running around trying to keep the sky from falling down. Danny had cracked a few jokes about that, but they lacked the bravado and mirth they usually held.

And by the time the Zone plants started to wither away, Danny had pretty well abandoned the Zone. Instead spending what time he could with the remaining humans and living animals. All there was to see in the Zone was buildings and the occasional flora, which hardly needed his comfort. But all the same, he elected to not tell the humans. Not wanting to stir up hopelessness or panic. Though his actions told them all they needed to know. They just didn’t tell him such.

At this point, humanity was functionally split between anarchists and small communities. The communities eventually falling into anarchy themselves, as people lost any belief in things ever getting better. Danny had watched, tried to keep some level of order for a while. But eventually saw the pointlessness of it and people just trying to have some damn fun at the end of the world. Finally acknowledging what this was, what it had been; the apocalypse. And with this acknowledgment he changed, he joined what was left in screwing around. Unnecessary destruction, reckless self endangerment, the rock star lifestyle. Drugs, sex, and rock and roll. Fast, loose and with complete disregard for the future. What was left of the humans flocked to him at this point, riding the high of someone who could let them do things there’s no other way they could do. To say a lot of things had been crossed off bucket lists and final wishes granted, would be an understatement. Even if it made the loss of each individual person hurt Danny all the more. He really was always a self-sacrificial fool. A weaker more selfish person would have just left everyone to their fates. Not walked by their sides till they eventually could walk no more. Till the world fell and life simply stopped existing.

But Danny did, always would, as he was left standing looking between two worlds were nothing existed anymore. Where there wasn’t even air to make sound or any single thing besides him to break up the silence.

Danny runs his fingertips across the green road, slowly floating to sail outside of his lairs boundaries. To a vast empty expanse, buildings to ash not having his ectoplasm to build them up again and again. Chunks of the planet itself breaking off as the planet's core cooled away. The bits of hard ground illuminated by his glow and the few still travelling light of dead stars alone, the sun having winked out long ago.

Danny turns intangible and slips into the ground, floating down to sit on the Earths core. Before being jarred by his ghost sense going off for the first time in eons. Turning his head to his old mentor and friend, in their white beard and simple purple cloak. Turning his head away as he speaks, “it’s been a long time, Father Time”.

Earning a smirk from the Ancient ghost, “indeed”.

The two sit in silence for a while, Danny laying on his back on the Earths core, “makes sense I guess”.

“You hardly needed me. You and the Earth”.

Danny snorts, “I guess that says it all, doesn’t it. Nothing to do and nothing to help”. The two fall back into silence again, before Danny sits back up and leans into ClockWork to cry. Just the knowledge of something, of someone else being there made the sound of it less massive, less jarring, less painful. As ClockWork rubs his back, giving a level of comfort only a being that saw the end coming and had existed before all other sentient things, could provide.

Danny eventually sniffling and wiping his nose, “is there anything I could have done differently?”.

ClockWork sighs, knowing the self-punishment and blame had been coming, “I’m sorry Daniel, but this is how it has to be. Like all things, everything must have its end. To eventually fade into oblivion and the nothing”.

Danny curls his fingers into ClockWork’s cloak, “but me, I’m still here. I’ll still be here”.

ClockWork pats his head fondly, “of course. Always. Even nothing needs a guardian. And, as it always does, something comes from nothing”.

Danny nods, makes sense he was an Ancient himself but that hardly phased him. Instead asking, “so there will be life again?”.

“And therein lies something that not even time can tell”.

Danny gives a somewhat hallow smile, “I thought you knew everything”.

ClockWork bops him on the nose with a soft smile, “only nothing can know what nothing has in store”.

Danny rests his head on ClockWork’s lap, “so me, the Ancient guardian of nothing”.

ClockWork pets down Danny’s hair as he speaks, “as it always was to be”, leaning over to kiss Danny’s hair, whispering as to not break the silence to severally. The silence that their young companion had grown comfortable with and would surely be surrounded by for a long time to come, “and nothing needs nothing to truly flourish”.

Before fading away and leaving Danny alone to sleep on top of the very core of the planet he loved so very much. As even it too began to crumble away into nothing, having been the last remaining thing in the universe. Once sustained only by Danny’s will and ectoplasm. Now falling away finally, as his being accepts what he truly is. The nothing after something and the nothing before something. The one true constant of the universe. For nothing doesn’t need something to exist but something never exists without nothing. Leaving nothing as the guardian of the universe and the guardian of nothing to guard it all forever.

End.

[scribemallow]

kirburbia ch. 26 - drive all night

a beautiful night turns into an unfortunate dawn.

read in full on ao3, or underneath the cut!

At first, Meta Knight isn’t sure where he’s going. He knows the vague outline of the area, having passed through it too many times to forget, but there’s nowhere that stands out for him. For a moment, he even regrets taking Dedede’s car. Regrets letting the argument go on for so long, wants to go back and apologize profusely. Feels his eye twitching like he’s about to cry. All alone in the night, driving on the main roads in all their past-midnight silence. So few lights, so few other people in the world anywhere near him, but enough light pollution to obscure most of the stars.

Then he tells himself to get over it.

You’re going to give the car back eventually. Go back to Earth and leave Dedede alone. It’s what he wants, and Kirby is strong enough that he won’t have to pick between us.

I was stupid to make amends.

I was stupid for feeling like I did.

Trapped in the night, another driver coming along only once in a while, he toys with the car horn. It’s not a pleasant sound, but knowing it’s verboten to press it makes it more tempting. And of course, he’s alone now. Kirby found it startling and Dedede insisted on not using it.

The thought comes back into his mind. There’s not much thinking room left- the radio pumps out music without a DJ, tiredness lingers at the bottom of Meta Knight’s throat and brain. But it’s what made him consider taking the vehicle in the first place-

Now I can do whatever I want.

Only now, it was much less fun to think like that. Being free on the roads was less fun without anyone around, even if they would compromise his freedom. Even if other people could prove to be an inconvenience.

-----------------------------------------

Dedede predicts in advance that Meta Knight won’t be around in the morning. He envisions the break of day when he drifts off that night- he’ll have taken some energy bars from the kitchen again, then packed thoroughly, waiting for when Dedede would reactivate his strange inter-dimensional machine. At the time, he’d been stuck between giving Meta Knight the instructions silently- therefore avoiding another awkward conversation- or forcing him into a Catch 22. To get home, he would have to talk to Dedede. Doing the latter, however, would force him to consider how much of it was a scheme to inconvenience Meta Knight and what element was simply a way for them to talk again. There was nothing to talk about between them which wouldn’t be painfully awkward, yet now it was unattainable, Dedede was undeniably tempted towards it. He had no ill will to Meta Knight, not now.

Not until he saw the car missing from his driveway, waking up drearily with an artificially-sweetened mug of coffee in his broad, human hands. At first it felt like an illusion, then a prank. Then a much worse prank. After checking his wallet, which had its money and spare key intact, and the way in which the TV remained standing in the living room, Dedede was forced to conclude that Meta Knight had made some kind of rash decision the other night. Given further evidence by the disappearance of his main set of keys (for both the door and the car, unfortunately) a flame rose in Dedede’s stomach.

He should have left silently.

And he knows that Kirby is sensitive, but not that he’s sensitive enough to have already detected Meta Knight’s absence. Despite waking up after Dedede, and evidently having not checked Meta Knight’s room whatsoever, Kirby had been brought nearly to tears when he came down the stairs. Rubbing his eyes, worried, high-pitched whining about the situation which Dedede wasn’t even sure he had a decent grasp on yet.

“Debebe, where’s Meta Knight? He’s not in the house.” Kirby whined, voice inlaid with a special kind of childish misery that evoked powerful emotions. Dedede winced- he was missing a good answer.

“He’s… He’s out. He’ll be back at some point, I promise you.” Internally, Dedede attached some terms and conditions to the last bit of his sentence. That frankly, he didn’t know jack shit about the scenario as it stood, and that any promise he made as to Meta Knight’s whereabouts or likelihood of coming back to the house was functionally meaningless. It existed only as a reassurance for Kirby while Dedede sought to get the situation under control as best as he could.

“Where’s he out?” inquired Kirby, hands now on the bottom of Dedede’s star-print pyjama pants. Where the fuck am I, in questioning? Dedede wondered, without daring to think of verbalizing it. He coughed, though, and spoke.

“I don’t know where he’s out at the moment. But it won’t be for too long or anything.” Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. At least it seemed like Kirby couldn’t really tell.

“Okay, Debebe.”

The sigh from Dedede’s mouth as he heard the affirmation was strong. It told him that he’d be able to focus on more important things- tracking the car, tracking Meta Knight. Keeping Kirby happy. A duty that Meta Knight had been fulfilling, predominantly, for his presence at the home.

Yeesh, I don’t know how to take care of a kid well or something like that. What would my parents do?

Dedede looked down at Kirby, still pawing at his pyjamas and looking him in the eyes.

I hope he doesn’t become as jaded as I am. So I can’t afford to do a bad job here.  Otherwise- otherwise I might mess him up.  And, considering myself… It may not be the best to follow my parent’s example. That upbringing wasn’t exactly the walk in a park. It doesn’t take long for Dedede to summon the memory of being herded inside from the park, still in his young age, then intricately prepared for some banquet dinner his parents insisted on organizing for the royalty. Only for me to find out that I much prefer salmon and biscuits.

[utopiannamjoon]

Ephemeral, Part 3

Words: 4,2k

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff

Pairing: Jimin x Reader, Namjoon x Reader

A/n: Thanks for reading. Please like, reblog, and/or inbox me - about anything, it makes me really happy.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Masterlist

Bling

You raised your eyebrow as the phone lit up the room. You were sleeping, or trying to. So many things ran through your head that counting sheep wasn’t sufficient  in exhausting your mind. With the most miniscule move you could manage you took the phone in your hand and your eyes twitched under the bright light.

1 message:

Unknown number: Had a great time the other day

You: Who’s this?

You were putting the phone back on the nightstand but it blinged again. Namjoon turned on his side, moving away from you groaning.

Unknown number: Oh, It’s Jimin :)

An involuntary smile took its place on your lips. It was Jimin. What a cutie. You never gave him your number though. A part of you thought he didn’t even want it.

You: But how did you get my number?

Jimin: I have my ways ;)

Jimin was about to carve a pathway on his marble floor with his pacing. “Why am I such a dillhole?!” he snarled to himself loud enough for his secretary to hear him in the other room. Jimin was near pulling his hair out as the secretary slowly opened the door and peeked in the room. “I didn’t ask her number. Why?” Jimin directed the question at his secretary as if he would’ve known the answer. “Mr. Park I really don’t know,” he answered hesitantly. Jimin accelerated towards the younger man and stopped, noses almost touching, staring in to his eyes. “What do I do?” Jimin demanded an answer in a stern voice. “Sir… You don’t have your friend’s number?” the secretary asked or mostly pointed out timidly, the poor guy’s fingers were shaking. Jimin glared through him for a while making him feel anxious. “Friend?” Jimin repeated thoughtfully, “She isn’t a friend.” “Oh she said she was-” “She is more than that,” Jimin finished his thought cutting off the younger man. “Can’t you go to her house and ask her number personally?” the secretary suggested. Jimin nodded deeply deliberating every word. “No,” he declared as he came to a conclusion. The secretary cocked his head questioning Jimin but he didn’t say a word. Jimin was rubbing his own chin in deep thought. “What if her husband answers? I can’t ask Namjoon for her number. That’s weird. Especially considering the circumstance. Like ‘Sup I’m banging your wife, what’s her number?’I don’t think that would work,” Jimin rambled. The secretary nodded along not the get on his boss’ bad side. He didn’t have a clue what Jimin was talking about.

The pair tried to think of any plans to get your number. After what felt like a forever Jimin’s secretary piped up, “If she is married to Mr. Kim Namjoon then surely her information should be on the database. Since their wives have get togethers and they use their own employees to send out the invitations.” Jimin grabbed his secretary’s shoulders and shook him, eyes wide open with excitement, “You’re a genius!”

Jimin parked his Mustang on the street and walked inside the building, saying hello to the lobby man. He took the elevator to his penthouse apartment. He opened the door and threw his shoes away, eyes fixed on his phone screen. “Why are you so focused on your phone? It’s eerie,” Jiwoo commented from the kitchen. She was sitting on a counter with a wine bottle next to her leg, half empty wine glass in her hand. Jiwoo watched as Jimin walked past her to the cabinet, taking out a glass and filling it with water, eyes still fixated on the screen as he took a sip. “Jimin!” she raised her voice. He nearly dropped the water glass as her voice startled him. “Huh?” Jimin looked up at her. “What is so important that all your focus is targeted at that little device? You didn’t even see me,” she pointed out as she played with the rim of the her wine glass. “Oh, I’m trying to figure out what to say to this person.” “Is it that time consuming? What did they send you first?” Jiwoo said nonchalantly and poured more wine. Jimin rubbed the back of his neck, “It’s a first text to her. Ever.” Jiwoo ogled Jimin, “Her? Business or…?” “Does it matter to you?” Jimin was quick to answer, voice sounding hostile. He knew what she was thinking and did it actually affect her? No. She was worse than him. Whatever she was insinuating, Jimin hated it. “I guess not. If it’s a private matter just tell her something that’ll open the conversation and then just keep talking,” Jiwoo shrugged and downed her wine. She hopped off the counter and left with the half empty wine bottle in hand.

“Something to open the conversation... “ Jimin muttered underneath his breath. Jimin typed and erased, typed and erased. His thumbs trembling from nervousness. “I’ll just send ‘hey’ it’ll be good right?” Jimin tried to convince himself, but shook his head and sighed, “Too short.” Jimin pouted at his phone not thinking of anything to say. Why was it so hard? He has always been smooth with words. That’s how he got his position. Everytime he thought about you made his heart race faster and faster but for some reason a simple text made him choke.

Jiwoo walked back into the kitchen to take some food out of the fridge. “Jesus Christ, Jimin. It can’t be that distressing to you. Just say you liked hanging out with her or something,” she said as she found cheese to go with her wine. “Ooh that’s way better than what I had in mind,” Jimin thanked her with passionate eyes. “What the fuck were you gonna send her? Some…  fucking… text with one word?” she scoffed and threw a small chunk of cheese in her mouth. Jimin looked at her expressionless. “Oh my God. You were?” She laughed, “Just text her for God’s sake.”

“Okay okay.”

Jimin: Had a great time the other day.

Y/n: Who’s this?

All the color withdrew from Jimin’s face. “What do I do now?” He asked quietly showing Jiwoo the screen. “You moron, she doesn’t have your number and you didn’t include your name. Now introduce yourself. Aish why are you like this?” Jimin nodded staring at the screen. “Okay I got it. Go back to your…” Jimin looked at Jiwoo stuffing her face, “wine and… cheese.” “I will, thank you very much. I’m gonna have a party with me, myself, and I.” Jiwoo took another wine bottle with her from the wine cabinet before going back into the living room. Jimin continued to type.

Jimin: Oh, It’s Jimin :)

Y/n: But how did you get my number?

“It was a damn hustle that’s for sure,” Jimin sneered to himself. He felt a little disappointed in himself. He would’ve wanted to ask for your number in person, but he just forgot. Not because he didn’t care, quite the opposite. Your presence was mesmerizing to him which emptied his head. All of the thoughts he had of you, all of the plans, all of the scenarios washed away when he saw you. It was just too unreal.

Jimin: I have my ways ;)

You grinned at your phone. How did few text messages make butterflies appear in your stomach? You used to feel this way about Namjoon. When he smiled and laughed. His dimples were sincere and radiated happiness, it never failed to make your day better.

But something happened. He grew darker. He was no longer what you thought of him. The perfect husband who would cherish you with gifts changed into a stranger who you had to sleep next to. The stranger who took you for granted. The stranger who would rather be lonely than in the same room with you, but divorcing him wasn’t going to happen. You couldn’t because of your father. Things are really complicated and you hate it.

You were young when you married Namjoon. You didn’t have a goal in life, nor do now. You’re used to this quality of life and know nothing better. The only glimpse of a better life was from Suzie but you’ve never actually had it yourself.

You wish things were different. Maybe you’d be happy if you loved someone, if someone loved you, from the bottom of their heart. Being consistent in showing their never ending love to you. Not spending money on materialistic things, but when he wakes up in the morning the first thing he does is kiss your forehead and say good morning to you, even before looking at his phone. When he gets a glass of orange juice he pours you one too without thinking. When he leaves you small notes saying how much he loves you when he has already gone to work. When he puts your happiness before his. When he makes you the number one priority.

Jimin continues to text you throughout the following weeks. He gives you little updates in his personal life and the important contract. Time to time you remind him to eat something to stay healthy. He seems quite content in how things are going. You’re thrilled for him but you can’t ignore the stinge of pain stabbing your heart. Jimin is happy, and though his messages brighten up your days, you’re not.

You walked around the city, touring parks on your way to the local coffee shop, trying to kill time. You didn’t have any dinner’s or gatherings to join Namjoon with so you had all the time in the world. Jimin couldn’t meet with you either. He says he is busy.

Joyous sounds of children playing tag, sprinting on the freshly cut grass with the happiest smiles, like nothing bad could ever defeat them. The sight of something so pure made your heart warm. You stepped off the gravel road on to the pavement, entering from the peaceful park surrounded by trees and actual liveness to the concrete jungle full of machines polluting the sky and humans so numbed from their lives that you could believe the zombie apocalypse has started. A surge of people kept you moving, you couldn’t even walk your own way. What a metaphor for your life.

You could already see the coffee shop you wanted to buy a simple coffee and a bagel from. Just as you’re about to cross the street someone bumps into you, “Hey watch out!” the stranger yells rudely. You lost your balance but someone got a hold of your arm and thank god since embarrassing yourself further wasn’t something you planned.

“Y/n are you okay?” he asked in a worried tone as he helped you regain your balance, “That guy has no manners. What the fuck is wrong with him?” He kept looking at the man who crashed into you and he frowned his eyebrows, “I think he works for me… That bastard. I’ll fire him don’t you wor-”

“It’s okay Jimin, thank you,” you cut him off placing your hand over his. He took this as a que to let go of the death grip he had on you. You almost falling scared him more than it did you. Your mood elevated as you heard him speak but as you saw the woman who held onto his bicep brought it crashing down. The contrast between you and her was dragging on your confidence. Jiwoo stood tall in her heels, dress hugging her figure and showing just the right curves. Face touched up with make-up but it wasn’t too extravagant. It was elegant. Hair lifted up in a perfect bun, not a single stray hair in sight. You wore used up plimsoll shoes, ripped jeans with coffee stains and your husband’s oversized hoodie. Your face without make-up, probably looking puffy from eating in the evening. She looked like a Goddess next to you.

“Are you really okay?” Jimin put his hand on your arm carefully and tried to look in your eyes but you avoided the contact. “I am, thanks,” you quipped, “I have to go.” You swiftly moved away and disappeared into the crowd. Jimin’s hand was left to stroke air instead of you. He watched you leave, his face filled with concern.

“C’mon. We’re gonna be late,” Jimin said when he came back to his senses, more to himself than to Jiwoo. Jiwoo moved along with him. “So you’d fire a guy for running into her but when that same guy was all over me you did nothing,” she smirked. Jimin stopped right in front of her and turned around without any expression. “I watched you make out with that guy several times when we’re at meetings. I saw when you fucking cupped him. On those rare occasions when you visit my office, I see when you pinch his ass on every opportunity you see fit. He isn’t even the only guy you do that with. If you decide to whore around, it’s none of my fucking business,” he spat at her coldy, “Now let’s go.” Jiwoo humbly followed Jimin seeing as this isn’t the time to tease him further when he was on the edge. She was dumbfounded as he rarely if ever snapped at her.

You manage to push yourself through the crowd into the coffee shop. You cursed yourself for wearing this abomination. Why couldn’t you be like her? Why was this the day you thought to yourself that you shouldn’t make yourself more presentable. You didn’t even dab a smidgen of make-up on your face.

You walked back home with the coffee, and the bagel in a paper bag. You walked through the park again, the same children running wild. This time you felt more annoyed than anything. Maybe it was jealousy, anger, or disappointment. You weren’t mad at the children but something about their happiness made your mood jump, drawing contrast to it. Whatever you felt, it was towards Jimin. He was with Jiwoo that’s why he couldn’t meet, or didn’t want to. In the end Jiwoo was more important. She is his wife after all. You’re just a lay.

You put down your purchase on the kitchen island. What a shame that your hunger left with Jimin and Jiwoo. You probably took just two sips of the coffee. “The dinner is in three days,” Namjoon informed you as he joined you in the kitchen, “do I hire a chef or do you wanna cook?” A smile is threatening to force itself out of Namjoon’s lips. He doesn’t even remember the last time you’ve set on the stove.

“I’ll cook,” you said to Namjoon’s surprise. You figured it would be better to use your time cooking rather than getting drunk of off wine. “And here,” you offered him the coffee and the bagel. “For me?” he sounded surprised, you nodded and gave them in his hands, “Thank you.” He simpered, making his devilish dimples show.

He was making his way out of the kitchen when he stopped next to you. He eyed your outfit for what felt like forever. Here we go. The unwanted criticism. You took a deep breath preparing yourself to what was coming.

“Is that my hoodie?” he wondered out loud. Before you could let the breath out he added, “Looks nice.”

What?

Namjoon gave you a compliment? Has hell frozen over? Sure it was a mere ‘nice’. Coming from anyone else could’ve even been an insult, but coming from Namjoon? Unbelievable. You could probably pinpoint the last time he gave you anything close to a compliment and it was two and a half years ago.

The day you anticipated or dreaded the most, you aren’t sure which, came. As you set down the roast you’ve prepared for hours on the dining room table, the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” Namjoon shouted. You thank God that you had time to dress up before Jimin showed up. You wore a red dress and curled your hair just a little, letting it settle on your shoulders.You could hear faint sounds of the two men talking and laughing in the corridor. The lack of high heels clicking on the floor made you peek at the two men. Jimin was wearing light grey suit pants with a white dress shirt, shape of his muscles clearly showing. But where’s Jiwoo?

You quickly backed up, not wanting to be seen snooping, when Namjoon showed his hand towards the dining room, leading Jimin’s way. “Oh wow, it smells delicious,” Jimin said as he stepped into the room. You smiled coyly at his words. “You must remember my lovely wife Y/n,” Namjoon introduced you. “Of course I do,” Jimin bowed, “The dinner smells absolutely heavenly, Mrs. Kim.” Mrs. Kim? You wanted him to just come hug you and kiss all of your worries away but this hurt even more. Why couldn’t he just call you your own name? Surely Namjoon wouldn’t even care as he knows you’ve at least two times before.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t bring you any company. My wife had somewhere to be,” Jimin revealed, directing all of his attention to you. “Oh it’s alright,” you responded. Well that sort of answered your previous question. You weren’t a baby, you didn’t need anyone to give you company. You are torn if her missing is a good or a bad thing. These kind of meetings would get boring if they lasted long but wouldn’t her being here make you feel insignificant?

Namjoon lead you to your seat next to his, hand on your lower back almost touching your behind. You missed the little twitch that happened on Jimin’s face when Namjoon touched you. “Seokjin couldn’t make it today but he has trusted me to go over the contract and to tweak the details. But it seems like a done deal,” Namjoon reported with the smile that made you fall in love with him, but slowly making you recent him.

As the host Namjoon poured all of you some wine and cut the roast, handing over you some first, then Jimin and then to himself. The men dug in, seemingly enjoying themselves, chit chat filling the room.

“You really outdid yourself Y/n,” Namjoon complimented your cooking as he took the last bite. “Yes, it was exquisite. I haven’t had such enjoyable meal in a long time,” Jimin agreed and swallowed the last of his wine. You thanked both of the men with rose colored blush filling your cheeks. The approval of the two men who held most value in your life meant alot to you.

“So Jimin. The contract with Kim Seokjin is worth hundreds of millions. 50% to his company, 25% to mine, and 25% for yours,” Namjoon started explaining as he stood up, “Shall we go to my office upstairs to go over the minor details, and signing it?” Your eyes almost bulged all the way out as you heard the numbers. You never knew how much money was involved. “Sounds perfect,” Jimin wiped his mouth with a napkin and got up after Namjoon. He shot you a wink as he walked behind the taller man, making your heart flutter. You couldn’t keep your emotions in check as you hated him but seconds later you never wanted to leave his side.

Them going over the contract would leave you by yourself for an hour or possibly even two. So cleaning up the dining room and the kitchen would be the most efficient way to kill time. You gathered up the plates and the utensils, and filled the dishwasher. You washed the pans yourself with an apron on, not wanting to get your dress dirty. To an outsider it would look weird that here you are, in your kitchen trying to rub pans spotless in an expensive dress. You had a maid, but she wasn’t full time since what’s the fun of not being able to contribute? It would just leave you more time to drown yourself in overpriced wine. Besides this kept your feet on the ground, making you feel like a normal human being.

Just the right timing as you cleaned out the dining table with a cloth, the men came downstairs. “We got the contract signed and I was ordered to bring to Seokjin immediately,” your husband told you from the corridor. “Yup,” Jimin smiled his famous eye smile next to Namjoon nodding, “I’m going to head on home. It was nice meeting you again Mrs. Kim.” You leaned against the door frame bidding farewell to each of them. You heard a car start and leave the driveway.

The doorbell rang not soon after the first car left. Namjoon must’ve left his keys home, how typical of him.

You opened the door and a blonde man stood in front of you. “I was actually planning on leaving right after but when I saw you I just wanted to devour you with infinitive kisses,” Jimin said hastily as soon as he saw you from the crack of the door, “You look so beautiful.” You looked over his shoulder, Jimin’s Mustang wa the only car decorating your driveway, Did he wait for Namjoon to leave? What were you supposed to think of this? Should you confront him about your insecurities, or use this situation for your advantage?

Your hands made the choice for you as they grabbed his shirt collar bringing him down, his lips met yours. Jimin slammed the door shut behind him, and quickly moved his hands to your face, holding it to deepen the kiss. You pulled him with you to the living room, his lips only left yours in between breaths when he groaned. “Oh God, I missed you so much.” You did too, the agony of not knowing if there was going to be a next time ate you alive, he made you feel so good. You pushed him on the couch and sat on his lap. You began to unbutton his shirt accidently ripping a few buttons but he didn’t care, he was too busy focusing on your lips and unzipping your dress. You got his shirt open, his chest inflated with every breath drawing focus on his muscles. He helped you out of the dress with little to no trouble. Jimin admired your body, making him more impatient. He caressed your sides and played with your nipples. He fondled your soft breasts before taking one in his mouth. He threw his shirt away when you went for his belt. Jimin’s boner was already so hard that it must’ve hurt him. He bucked his hips when you slowly started to grind on him. You grinded on his hard on, your panties creating friction on your clit.

“Get ‘em off,” you breath out, you were getting more restless. Jimin grunted approving with your command. Both of you stood up to strip from any clothing you had left. Jimin’s dick jumped up when he pulled his boxers down. He kissed you passionately but you pushed him on the couch again. He lied on the couch on his back watching you lower yourself on his erection. Your hands were on his chest as you got used to the stretch. You slowly started to move on him, back and forth. He guided your hips with his hands, biceps flexing on every move. He pushed his head back biting his lip. “I’ve been thinking about this- about you for a month,” he moaned, “I really missed you darling.” When the pet name left his mouth he sat up. Noses just millimeters apart. Your legs wrapped around him perfectly. He held you close to him, holding you as he moved his hips in circles. Your hand was tangled in his hair, and your forehead leaned on his. The way he looked at you, the glint in his eyes, made it feel immensely intimate. He looked you from eye to eye. This was about you, not about him. He wanted to focus all of his attention to you.

Jimin flipped you over, this time it’s you who’s on their back. His pace was slow and sensual, keeping his gaze fixated on your face, taking in your expressions of pleasure. He hit all the right spots but you wanted him deeper, and closer. You’re hugging him with all of your limbs, arms wrapped around his shoulders, and legs around his waist as he slowly pounded into you. He lifted his hand to your face, and pushed stray hair behind your ear. Jimin was hypnotized by you. Every thrust he took got more powerful and faster. Your moans got more frequent and louder. He gave you sloppy kisses as his pace accelerated, wanting you to reach your goal. The thrust turned clumsier and clumsier, but you already had the familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach. As the fireworks hit you, you grabbed his hair and contracted around him. Jimin groaned. “Where do I cum?” he whined. He felt pathetic, it was like he was thirteen again, he had a hard time containing himself. “In me,” you moaned, already getting over stimulated. He buried his forehead in the crook of your neck. “I’m cumming, I’m cumming,” he whined in your neck. With few thrusts he moaned, and his face contorted, “Oh God, I love you.”

Masterlist

[tompettyaesthetics]

Hesitant

“Number 154 from the prompt list but could you write it with Mike?” - Anonymous

Number 154 = “ There’s only one bed… ”

---

Year: 1971

Pairing: Mike Campbell x Reader

Warnings: Implied NSFW at the end

Words: 1500+

---

You had joined up with everyone at the “Mudcrutch Farm Festival.” They had asked you to bring everyone you knew and tell them to do the same. It was largely just to promote their music, but it was simultaneously an amazing experience and a lot of fun.

You were obviously there to support the band, so you chose to go early and help set up. Mike and Tom greeted you kindly.

“Y/N!” Tom gave you a quick hug, “It’s so great to see you.”

“It’s great to see you too, Tom,” you returned, before turning your attention to Mike, “Mike!”

“Y/N, I am so glad you’re here!” He exclaimed, giving you a similar hug to Tom’s, “What are you doing here so early?”

“I wanted to help set up--I know how long it can take to get ready,” You explained gesturing to the performance area which sat only half put together.

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck semi-embarrassed, “Yeah, we need all the help we can get with that.”

They put you to work soon after, and before you knew it there were more people than you could count and the band was about to play.

They seemed to play all day and through most of the night. It was impossible to not enjoy every second of it, even when you were fixing small problems that were inevitable for poor conditions such as the ones you were all in.

You loved seeing the band play, but your eyes truly never left Mike. When his face twisted into a concentrated expression it tugged at your heart strings.

Slowly, the night drew to a calm close and people slowly faded out after congratulating and thanking the band.

You helped take everything down and thank people in return as they left. Once most everyone was gone, you offered to take a picture of the band.

“I never want to forget this,” you sighed, setting the amp in the back of Tom Leadon’s pick-up truck, “Can I take a picture of you guys?”

Mike raised an eyebrow, but when he saw the puppy eyes you were giving him he caved in instantly, “Sure, we can take one right up against the barn.” He nodded towards Tom, who was sitting on the ground near some branches. The others were already around him.

“I’m going to take a picture, everyone stay where you are and face me,” You announced, pulling out your camera which you had safely stored in his truck--you always took it with you, it was your prized possession. You lined up the shot and realized something was missing; Mike.

“Mike, get in there! You’re a part of this memory too,” You chuckled, playfully pushing him towards the barn.

“Okay, okay,” He threw his hands up and then tucked them nervously in his pockets.

Everyone else had maintained their largely casual stances, so you hurriedly lined up the shot again and snapped your picture.

Waving it into focus, you smiled at the result before tucking it away and returning the camera to the truck.

It was late, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to make it home before daybreak. Additionally, you had walked here and you did not feel like walking back. You couldn’t sleep in the barn, though, and you didn’t want to ask Leadon for another ride.

Mike placed a hand on your shoulder, “You okay?”

“Yeah, just figuring out how I’m getting home. I’m fine,” You leaned against him slightly and looked up to the sky.

“You can’t get back the same way you got here?” He wrapped his arm around you hesitantly and squeezed you gently.

“I guess,” you shrugged, “I’m a little tired to walk thou--”

“You walked here?” He interrupted.

You nodded, “Yeah, I mean, it’s no big de--”

“Y/N! You live way too far away to be walking here! I’ll give you a ride,” He offered, cutting you off again.

“You really don’t have to,” you shied away from his gaze.

“It’s totally fine,” he reassured, but noticing your retreat he added, “Unless you’re uncomfortable, I don’t want to make you if you really don’t want me to--”

It was your turn to cut him off, “I wouldn’t be uncomfortable at all.”

You both absorbed the silence that fell between you. You noticed how many stars had appeared in the night sky, being so far from any light pollution made the night sky so vibrant. The stars seemed to dance across the sky and you could swear that they were twinkling just for you both.

You spoke, a mere whisper that broke the silence, “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he returned, meeting your eyes.

You wanted to kiss him so badly; to tangle your hands in his hair and pull him closer, to feel his hands travel up your spine, to feel him smile against your lips.

But you couldn’t. It could never be the same if you did, and you knew how highly you both valued your friendship. There was no way you could risk rejection, even if every part of your soul urged you to do exactly that.

“We should go,” he stepped away, his hand lingering on your shoulder, before leading you back to the others.

You had said your goodbyes and made your way to Mike’s car. He opened the door and let you in. The radio had been playing faintly in the background as he drove.

He kept his eyes on the road a majority of the trip home, for which you were thankful because if he hadn’t he would have certainly caught you staring.

The streetlights hit his short curly hair and made his eyes glisten. He would chew on his lower lip at any stops he had to take, and mindlessly tap on the steering wheel.

Next thing you knew, he had pulled up to your house.

He got out and opened your door for you. He spoke, “I’ll, uh… See you later?”

You looked to your feet and then back to him, his eyes piercing your soul, “I guess so. Unless…”

He eagerly prompted, “Unless?”

“Unless you stay. It’s awfully late, and I’m sure you’re tired,” you offered, “And you were so kind, giving me a ride home, and all.”

He raised the corners of his lips in an appreciative smile, “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” You returned the smile and led him to your door.

He followed you slowly, hesitant to rush into anything. Little did you know, it took every fiber of his being to not kiss you when he saw you standing at your door, fumbling with your keys.

Once inside it struck you suddenly, your house was made for just you. You never had people stay the night and were therefore grossly unprepared.

He shifted his weight awkwardly when you brought him into your bedroom, “Um, Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you stopped grabbing your pajamas to answer.

“There’s only one bed,” he observed.

“Oh--I can sleep on the couch, don’t worry about it,” You shrugged, walking towards him with your pajamas in your hands.

“No, Y/N, I can sleep on the couch, really,” he said, watching you walk up to him carefully.

You placed a hand on his chest, “I don’t think so, Campbell. You’re my guest, and I’m taking the couch and that’s final.”

He let out a defeated sigh and then, as if something magnetically had drawn him to you, he placed his lips against yours. They brushed against yours, barely grazing them.

He pulled back to check your expression. Your eyes went wide for a second, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest, and just before he could apologize, you pressed your lips to his.

This kiss had more force, purpose, but was still not urgent. Your hands reached up and tangled in his curly locks while his traced soft shapes on your back. It was really a dream come true.

Reluctantly pulling away, your lungs burning, your eyes met his. He radiated with the same smile that graced your features; one of relief, love, and excitement.

“I take it back, it’s definitely not final,” you commented.

He let out an airy laugh and pulled you into a tight hug. He instinctively buried his face into your shoulder and you stood on your tip toes to place your chin on his.

After a short moment, he began to place soft kisses on your neck. When you placed your hands in his hair and pressed him closer to your neck, tugging his hair experimentally, he let out a warm and soft groan against your skin.

You bathed in the feeling of his lips, enjoying how you made him feel.

Ultimately, you had made it to your bed, without needing your pajamas.