#just. the other slugs take over bodies and either pretend to be that person or outright just use it for their own purposes

[agentgrange]

Whats with you and Philip K. Dick?

Alright, I know I harp on this shit and have been using his specific weird philosophy as connective tissue in my field notes which I can understand seems like an odd pick at best or shoehorning it in at worst. I know that at first glance Philip K. Dick has nothing to do with the mythos to which I say... Consider this section from Faith of Our Fathers. Try telling me, devoid of any context, that this doesn't sound like a lloigor / xin (in FOTG.)

God, he thought, and felt ill. Was this what Tanya Lee had called the "aquatic horror" shape? It had no shape. Nor pseudopodia, either flesh or metal. It was, in a sense, not there at all; when he managed to look directly at it, the shape vanished; he saw through it, saw the people on the far side -- but not it. Yet if he turned his head, caught it out of a sidelong glance, he could determine its boundaries. It was terrible; it blasted him with its awareness. As it moved it drained the life from each person in turn; it ate the people who had assembled, passed on, ate again, ate more with an endless appetite. It hated; he felt its hate. It loathed; he felt its loathing for everyone present -- in fact he shared its loathing. All at once he and everyone else in the big villa were each a twisted slug, and over the fallen slug carcasses the creature savored, lingered, but all the time coming directly toward him -- or was that an illusion? If this is a hallucination, Chien thought, it is the worst I have ever had; if it is not, then it is evil reality; it's an evil thing that kills and injures. He saw the trail of stepped-on, mashed men and women remnants behind it; he saw them trying to reassemble, to operate their crippled bodies; he heard them attempting speech.

Don't get me wrong, I have my issues with his works just as most people have their issues with Lovecraft. But I can't help but see echoes of one within the other. I feel like there's a special contrast between Dick and Lovecraft that I find extremely compelling. I've seen it described in two ways below. (Not my words.)

Dick was a poster child for narcotic alienation and paranoia, while Lovecraft was the cerebral, dreamy hermit.

PKD is where reality is a simple nightmare pretending to be real and becomes a complex nightmare that you don't want to believe is real (Ignorance is irrelevant), while HPL is real and the nightmare is coming to get you but only if you look for it (Ignorance is bliss).

Both were deeply wracked with anxiety brought on by the specific form of alienation prevalent at the time. Both authors tackled similar themes but from competing philosophies. Both were haunted their entire lives by visions into parallel worlds outside our own. Both passed relatively young, and both grew to great acclaim only after their death. More to the point, the original Call of Cthulhu TTRPG was meant to be set in the era that Lovecraft's work found its audience. As an 80s source guide, Delta Green Able Archer will take place at the time PKD's work finally found its mark as well. Its a loose framework, there certain won't be any Bladerunners or direct ties to PKD's intellectual property beyond inspiration. But the PKD-Lovecraft axis just perfectly serves the theme of dualism that I keep coming back to again and again. PKD-Lovecraft. America-USSR. Delta Green - GRU/SV8. Ignorance-knowledge. Creation-destruction. Yaldabaoth-Azoth. Et cetera, et cetera.

[thevalleyisjolly]

Hmm, thinking about Lucienne saying that for cerebro slugs, bodies are just bodies, and how throughout the season, most of the cerebro slugs we’ve come across have proven that true.  They don’t care about the bodies they take over, the people or the lives that once inhabited them.  And there’s nothing really more to it, they’re brain slugs!  It’s what they’re designed to do!  If they bother to look at their host’s memories, it’s just to blend in better, to make themselves less conspicuous.

And then there’s Skip.  Takes over Norman, and it's your typical brain slug situation at first.  The obligatory shenanigans while figuring out bodily mechanics, the cases of mistaken identity.  Except at some point, there's a shift.   Because Norman comes with so much baggage, Skip has to dive deep into his memories to understand why people are after this body.  And the more he searches, the more he understands about the person he's taken over, the person whose body this was.  All of a sudden, the body is not "just" a body. It was someone else once, and it was their way of engaging with the galaxy, for better or for worse, just like Skip is using it now.

Cerebro slugs need host bodies in order to participate in the galaxy.  That's what they're designed for, it's what their biology enables them to do.  But as Skip has come to realize, that's not all they have to do and it’s certainly not all they can do.  They can choose to try and understand the person who was there before, to think about the legacy (good or bad) that the person leaves behind, to decide how they will move forwards in light of the past, even if their decision is to start anew. 

And I think that's a pretty cool exploration of the whole brain slug trope, to go "Yes, as a cerebro slug, I need a host body to live, but the body does not have to be just a body.   It's not just about me, and it’s also not just about them.  Who they were mattered and who I am matters.  This body is now mine, but that doesn't make it just a meat sack or a tool for my purposes.  I was born to do this, I have the power to do whatever I want, and yet.  I choose to recognize the person who had this body before.  I choose to acknowledge their memory, their existence.  I choose to allow myself to be changed by this, to create something new, an identity, a sense of self that isn't about either of us, that's more than either of us alone.  There doesn’t have to be any more to this than just me and a body, but I choose for there to be more.  I choose to care.”  

[echo-of-sounds]

don’t go to bed angry

Small drabbles of you making up with Aizawa, Toshinori, and Hizashi after a fight.

Aizawa Shouta

“Fucking leave then! It’s not like I need you!”

You hated how the situation ended. You hated how you handled it. A conversation. It was supposed to be a conversation, never a disagreement nor a spat nor an argument. Cursing and crying should not have happened- it should never happen, whatever the circumstances. And those words certainly shouldn’t have come from your mouth.

Hearing footsteps, you rolled over. The wall illuminated when the door opened, flashing Shouta’s silhouette across it. Clothing dropped. His belt landed with a solid thunk. The bed dipped, bearing his warmth and quiet breathing.

You wished they would comfort you like usual. His body heat lulled you to sleep. His mellow moving chest calmed yours. Now they just felt distant.

A heavy sigh lifted the silence. He asked in a low voice, “You awake?”

Most of you didn’t want to answer. You could drift asleep, forget about the cussing, and wake tomorrow morning, pretending nothing happened. But you forced yourself to reply, weakly, timidly, “Yeah.”

The blankets shifted. Warmth settled slightly closer, yet not enough to be comforting. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah… You?”

“Yeah.”

Silence stooped again. Air staled between you, dark and difficult. Breath swelled in your lungs, exhaling clunkily without your say-so, simultaneously sinking your heart and blurring your vision.

You spoke in sync, “I’m sorry.”

In the somber room, you faced his shape on the other side of the bed. “Shouta, I’m sorry. I never meant to start an argument, especially over something so stupid. And I didn’t mean any of what I said. I only said it because I was angry. I didn’t mean it.”

“I know. I’m sorry too.” Shouta’s hand found yours, distilling the remote feelings, attaching him back to you. “I shouldn’t have responded as I did. I had a long day and let my frustrations out on you.”

“I hate fighting with you,” you mumbled.

“Me too.” His fingers clasped tight. 

That wordless connection was all you needed. You quickly closed the gap, slugging your chest against his. He huffed at the collision but still welcomed you in, chasing off the dim cold with his heat.

“I do need you, Shouta. Please, don’t ever think different.”

“Thank you.” He laid down, keeping you snuggly enveloped. A couple of kisses smoothed over your forehead. “I need you, too.”

Yagi Toshinori

“Enough! You’re not fucking helping me.”

You weren’t resentful at his abrupt anger or his curing. You were upset he was hiding from you. It was past midnight and the other side of the bed remained empty. Toshinori’s body wasn’t sweltering, but your body’s become accustomed, craving his feel to drift safely to sleep. 

And he was sitting in the living room, physically and emotionally distant. He so scarcely let his temper take the reins. It dwelled and blistered and tore until it wept. The release came as sadness, self-hate. Your supporting words and actions meant nothing. You tried to offer consolation, seek out his fears, be a shoulder to cry on, but that made his emotions direct towards you, like a hurt animal standing on its last leg.

Throwing off the covers, you got up. Toshi was slumped over on the couch, holding his arm up awkwardly on the armrest. His wrist bent. His neck tilted to the side. It would no doubt give him sore muscles.

Whispering his name didn’t wake him. Gently nudging his knee didn’t either. You shook his shoulder, and he jerked awake in alarm. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Toshi. It’s okay. You fell asleep on the couch.”

He rolled his neck around, sitting up straight. A little sweat and flush strained his temples.

You sat beside him, stroking his arm. He shrugged off your touch. You asked, “Why don’t you come to bed? Sleeping here isn’t healthy.”

“No, no, honey. I’m fine here. You need the space.”

“No, I don’t. You needed the time and I’m- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you. I know it’s difficult and me prying won’t help. I’m sorry I did.”

Toshi shook his head and faced more towards you, sighing your name. “Please, don’t apologize. I’m the one that swore at you. I know you’re just worried about me.”

“I am.” 

“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry.” Arms circled you, bringing you to his chest. The thin coating of water dripped from your eyes. He kissed your forehead and rubbed your back, softly mumbling, “I’m sorry I took my anger out on you. I’ll never do that again, I promise.”

You nodded, muttering, “Will you come to bed with me? I don’t want you out here. I want you next to me.”

“Of course, I will.”

Once you were both tucked in, you nuzzled back into his arms. They were long and kept you safe all night. His anger was already forgotten.

Yamada Hizashi

“Because you’re fucking annoying! Shut up for once!”

The idiotic, untrue, blurted words pickaxed your brain. You needed to apologize. Hizashi didn’t deserve the verbal wound no matter how rushed and overwhelmed you felt. His expression, upturned eyebrows, frightened eyes, and slowly closing mouth cut every piece of you. How he shuffled away from your wrath, feeling judged and abandoned by the one person who always loved his voice, his laughter, and his singing, tore you to tears, despite being the one who caused it.

You shuffled to the bedroom and, in case he was asleep, carefully nudged the door open. His figure laid on the bed, facing the opposite wall, on his stomach, breathing quietly, motionless. 

One tiptoe inside and Hizashi jumped up, calling your name.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Please, don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything.” You sat on the edge of the bed.

The way he moved seemed insecure, reflecting how he felt. The doubts about his energy, the persona he created, always plagued the back of his mind, filling his head with cynicism towards his ‘real’ character. But he was real- all of him. Every joke, dance, and sound he produced was real and beautiful and none of it was annoying. It was him and he didn’t need to change any part of it.

“I am, honey. I’m sorry.” You searched for his hand in the dark. His fingers weaved with yours, long and slender.

“I don’t mean to be annoying or loud, you know that right? I hate bothering you.”

“I know. I know. You weren’t. I was just a little overwhelmed. I shouldn’t have yelled at you and I shouldn’t have called you annoying, because you’re not, Hizashi. I’m so sorry I said that.”

The outline of his head nodded. You wished you could see his face to wash away the last, horribly nervous one you saw. 

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“I love you so much. I love you so much.” You pulled him into a bear hug. A pleasing laugh caressed your ears. You kissed him, breathing into his mouth, “And I love your voice.”

“Oh, in that case, let me sing for you.” He whisked you down to the bed, starting to croon his favorite song.

[sparkypantaloons]

The Ice

Five things Bruce taught Jason and one thing Jason taught Bruce. (1/6)

Bruce isn’t sleeping when his bedroom door creaks open. He’s not even pretending, when the small, whimpering child climbs into the bed beside him. Small fingers clutching at his nightclothes, a tuft of curly hair tucked under his chin.

He wraps his arms around the small shaking figure, presses a soft kiss into the hair. “Deep breaths, Jason.” He says softly.

The boy in his arms takes a shuddering breath, clutches tighter to Bruce’s pyjamas. His tears are starting to soak through.

“Sorry.” Jason says. The words are barely a whisper, Bruce feels them in his chest, more than he hears them.

“Hey.” He says, in gentle admonishment. “What have I told you about apologising. There’s nothing to apologise for.”

Jason sniffles again, presses himself further into Bruce’s embrace.

“Try and get some sleep.” Bruce says, and with one arm he tucks the covers around them both.

It’s not the first time Jason’s had a nightmare. It’s not even the first time this week. It’s also not the first time Bruce’s own dreams have kept him from rest. If he’s honest, since the incident last week, he sleeps a lot better with Jason here too.

Jason’s been with him eight months, two weeks and five days. And it’s going well. Really well, in fact.

Jason is everything Bruce was not as a child. He’s loud and full of life, with a mischievous gleam in his eye and a heart of gold in his chest. He’s eager to learn, quick-witted and sharp, already catching up with the smartest in his class, despite the school he’s missed.

He’s funny. God is he funny. He makes Bruce laugh in a way he hasn’t done since Dick was small. With silly impressions, or out-of-the-blue jokes that are way beyond borderline for a twelve year old.

He shows affection with reckless abandon, throwing his arms around Bruce or Alfred’s necks or waists, whatever he can reach. Pressing kisses into cheeks, squeezing their hands in his, or dazzling them with a brilliant smile. Like he's been so full of love his whole life and just needed someone to give it to.

And he trusts them. Alfred and Bruce. Trusts that he is secure with them, loved by them, where he should be, with them. With each passing day, more of his personality shines through, as he starts to build his home, his life, there with them in the Manor. Warm, and full, and safe at last.

Bruce had hoped… when he took the kid in, he had hoped that he could give Jason what he needed. That he could make up, in some small way, for all the ways Jason had already been failed. By his parents, by the police, by social workers, by Gotham. Hoped he could give Jason something, that would make up for the years before. He just never counted on how much Jason would give him. Because Bruce adores him, and as the quiet tears turn to gentle snores in his arms, he already dreads letting go come morning.

It's late autumn, the leaves have already fallen from the trees. The first frost of the season had descended on the Manor and it had been a harsh one, killing the last of the late summer blooms that were still hanging on.It had only been a week ago, that first frost, but it's only with Jason's warm body held close that Bruce can shake the chill, even now.

It had been that next morning, the Manor grounds glittering silver, when Jason and Bruce had been working their vegetable patch. Now nearly empty, after they’d picked their carrots and pumpkins and squash. Bruce’s pumpkin had been biggest, but Jason’s carrots had tasted the best.

Ace was out too, running up and down the garden, chasing squirrels, barking good naturedly up trees. There was only so much interest an eleven year old could show in weeding an all but empty vegetable garden. Before long Bruce had shooed Jason off to play with the dog, whilst he knelt in the soil, picking out frozen slugs and other undesirables.

He could hear Jason laughing with the dog. Wrestling with the old Alsatian every time he refused to drop the manky, old tennis ball they were playing fetch with. Jason had a strong arm, but Ace, despite his age, had more energy than even an eleven year old, and before long Jason’s throws became more haphazard.Bruce hadn’t seen what had happened, had only heard it, half listening in the way all parents do. Jason had thrown, but Ace seemingly hadn’t got the ball. “C’mon Acey.” Jason had cooed, “Get the ball.” Before there was a good natured humph, the dog seemingly refuse to do as asked.

The next Bruce had known, Ace was baying manically and Bruce was sprinting from the vegetable patch, because those were warning barks. Ace was a little down the garden, over by the swimming pool, Jason nowhere to be seen.

No. The single word repeated itself in Bruce’s mind as he ran across the frozen grass. No, no, no, no, no.The world went silent as he reached the pool. Panic drowning out Ace’s barks. The thin layer of ice across the surface was cracked open, Jason below the water, still and unmoving.

Bruce yelled. He doesn’t know what. Jason’s name. Maybe Alfred’s. Maybe just an angry, desperate noise, wrenched out of his throat at the thought that someone else he loved was being taken from him.

He careened into the pool. Half wading, half swimming, arms desperately reaching for Jason. He didn’t feel the cold. Didn’t feel the wet. Could only feel the all consuming panic as his fingers finally, finally closed around Jason’s arm, dragged him to the surface.

“Hold on, Jay-lad. Hold on.” He said loudly, and kept saying as he pushed through the icy water to the pool edge, a thousand terrible scenarios running through his mind.

By some miracle, none of them came to pass. Jason had started coughing up water before Bruce was out of the pool, tears joining the water running down his face.

It had been later, sat by the fire in the drawing room, wrapped in blankets and Bruce’s arms, Jason had quietly wept. Whispering over and over “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” into Bruce’s chest.

“You never go out onto the ice, Jason.” Bruce had said. “Never. No matter what.”

But of course Jason wouldn’t know. What pools of water were there in Crime Alley, what frozen lakes or rich idiot swimming pools were there to learn from? Jason had never even left Gotham, had never crossed the river until he came to the Manor. Had never even been to the river, could never know the dangers beneath a frozen surface... Why hadn’t Bruce explained it to him the second they got outside? Why hadn't he had the damn pool cover fixed at least? Why hadn’t he been watching Jason more closely? He should have been playing with the kid, with his— with his son, not picking frozen slugs out of the ground whilst his darling boy drowned.

Except that was the other thing. Because it wasn’t just about not going out on to the ice, never, ever, no matter what. It was that Jason couldn’t swim either. He hadn’t said as much, always casually finding a reason to avoid the water over the summer months. But Bruce wasn’t called the world’s greatest detect for fun. He should be called the world’s biggest idiot. Having an open pool of water around an eleven year old who couldn’t swim. Having not even booked swimming lessons for the eleven year old who couldn’t swim.

Who did he even think he was? Thinking he could be a father to this child. Give him what he needed. He’d already failed fatherhood with Dick, ruined what had been the most important relationship in his life, with his own stupid pig-headedness. And here he was, arrogant enough to risk doing the same again. Stupid enough to—

“B?” Jason stirs in his arms, bringing Bruce back to the present. Interrupting the sixth consecutive night of him reliving the kid’s almost death. Putting an end to the self-loathing diatribe he now has down to a tee.

“Mm?” He can feel Jason’s eyelashes flutter against his neck.

“Thank you.” Jason says softly. “For saving me.”

Bruce has lost count of how many times Jason has broken his heart, but he adds another to the list. “You don’t have to thank me, Jason. I will always save you. Always.”

You can read the rest of this fic here https://archiveofourown.org/works/34213801/chapters/85127050

[hoffmannwrites]

You Better You Bet

Previous - PART TEN - Next - Masterlist

Author’s Note: I’m garbage. You know what it is. Also, editing this in the bathtub by candlelight, drinking wine and listening to a twilight playlist. Very on brand for me I think.

Pairing: Riverdale, FP Jones, and 19-Year-Old Reader

Description: A bet with Jughead leads to so much more than winning.

Warning: Language, Adult themes, Age Gap, Forbidden love bullshit, brief mention of female masturbation, bi!FP and top!FP if you squint, fluff in a sarcastic way, getting caught red handed

Song Inspiration:  illicit affairs - Taylor Swift

The word felt weird on your tongue. Girlfriend.  It felt even weirder calling him your boyfriend. You didn’t use them in front of other people, not yet. It all still felt so delicate. You had admitted to Betty and Veronica that you were seeing FP, but didn’t divulge that it was exclusive or serious yet. You were also quite aware that Jughead was not as oblivious as he pretended to be, but neither of you dared bring it up to the other. 

As days slipped into weeks, you got more comfortable with the words. Eventually, you had slipped into a routine with FP. You’d see each other a few times a week, either at his trailer or the Wyrm or occasionally the overlook. Usually, you’d sleepover and either drive yourself home or to school in the morning. It was comfortable, almost domestic, how easily you wrapped your lives around each other.  He bought more food (you preferred that he let you cook, but he at least owned spices and herbs now); the trailer stayed cleaner and brighter with fewer empty beer cans littered around. You were brighter, too. You had always felt like a person out of their time- too old to still be in high school by most standards, the oldest kid in your family with no siblings or cousins to keep you company, forced to grow up too fast, but too young to be considered an adult in all the ways that mattered. Nothing that was supposed to feel right ever did. So it made sense that the first thing to ever feel right was a man that was supposed to be wrong. It worked, though. Somehow, it worked.

Easily your favorite part of your newfound relationship was sleeping next to FP. Falling asleep to the sound of his even heartbeat and low breath had become soothing in a way you would have never imagined. Waking up to his messy hair and gruff voice might have been even better. On the nights you couldn’t spend with him, you tossed and turned violently for hours-unable to find the comfort of sleep without being wrapped up in your man’s arms. Unfortunately, this was one of those nights. No amount of pillow flips, weighted blankets, or calming audios would put you to bed like FP could. You picked up your phone to text him- but the bright white numbers reading “3:30” made you decide against it; it was much too late to bother him. Instead, you decided to tire yourself out in the only way you knew how: with your hand slipped into your sweatpants lazily working yourself up until maybe-just maybe an orgasm would tire you out enough to put you out. But apparently, sleep wasn’t the only thing FP has ruined for you. Why were you sitting here touching yourself in vain when you could be getting railed by your boyfriend? Unfair. Ridiculous. You would just have to spend the rest of the night tossing until maybe sleep took you. 

The next day was frustrating, to say the least. Working on barely two and a half hours of sleep, school was painful to get through. The only thing keeping you from going home to sleep was knowing that you were headed to FP’s trailer as soon as the end-of-day bell rang. You spent most of your day tapping your foot impatiently and chewing on your pen cap with heavy-lidded eyes, praying that somehow the clock would speed up. Somehow, you slugged through your day and eventually heaved your limp body into your car. By the time you had realized you had forgotten to turn on your radio, you were already halfway to FP’s trailer. 

Once you finally arrived, you wasted no time on the usual once-over of yourself in your rearview mirror. You walked right into the trailer without even bothering to knock, took one glance at FP sitting on his sofa, and collapsed directly on top of him, head snugly in his lap. He chuckled as he ran his fingers through your hair and brushed it out of your face, which turned to look at him. “Long day, huh, baby girl?”

“You have ruined my life, Forsythe,” you informed him in a low monotone. 

“Naw, don’t say that, baby. What happened?” He was actually concerned which made you feel a slight pang of guilt. Maybe you shouldn’t have started with that. Oops.

You sat up and took off your coat which you hadn’t originally bothered to peel off. “I can’t sleep…” you muttered softly. 

“How exactly is that my fault?”

“You’re too comfy!”,  you whined at him dramatically. “How am I supposed to get any sleep in a cold empty bed, when I’m used to passing out on your stupid warm, soft chest?”

He looked at you with stars in his eyes as a smile grew on his face. “You’re mad at me because I’m too good of a cuddler?”

“Precisely!”

“Jesus fucking…” he muttered as he got up from the couch and took your hands, leading you up with him. “C’mere…”

You followed him gratefully into the bedroom and sat down on the corner of the bed, slowly inching up towards the pillows to crawl under the covers. 

“You’re gonna sleep in jeans?” he asked for with a quark of his brow. 

“Sorry I didn't put PJs in my backpack today,” you replied snarkily, ready to just sleep. 

“That hasn’t stopped you before,” he threw a large flannel over at you. “Get comfy, kiddo.” 

You started to strip down to just your panties, “I hate when you call me that.” 

He shot you a questioning glace, prodding you to explain. “It makes this weirder than it already is.” 

“Wasn’t aware that it was weird.” It was his turn to strip down now, just to his teeshirt and boxers. 

You lifted up the covers and set underneath them trying to get comfortable at once. “I mean it’s not weird but I just don’t need to be reminded that you’re over twice my age, thank you very much.”

He followed you into bed and pulled you close, hiking your leg up as far as it could go. “Shush. You’re just mad that I was backstage with Motley Crue while you weren’t even born.” He kissed your forehead with a smile. “Now sleep, little girl.” 

Sleep started to take over your body but you’d be damned if you didn’t get the last word in. “I still can’t believe Tommy Lee bottomed for you.”

As your eyes closed and you faded into sweet oblivion, you could hear FP faintly whisper “I never should have told you that.” 

—————————————————————-

You woke up with a startle to what sounded like the trailer door opening. FP was still next to you, also starting to wake and looking just as confused. 

Your first thought was that this was going to end bloody. Some ghost from FP’s past or some new Riverdale Psycho was gonna come to turn your cozy little life upside down in mere seconds. What ended up being reality was quite possibly way worse. 

“Dad?” Jughead’s voice rang loud and clear through the trailer. You and FP looked at each other with wide eyes, panicked, to say the least. 

“Go!” you whispered to him, hitting him out of bed frantically as you began to look for your pants at least. 

He scrambled out of bed and the small bedroom slamming the door shut behind him as he came into view of his son. It was close too; one more corner and Jughead would have found you. 

It wasn’t so much that you didn’t want Jughead to know. it was just easier. You had no idea how you would begin to explain how this bet had blossomed into so much more. When the time finally came, you definitely wanted it to be on your own terms and not caught half-naked in bed on a Tuesday afternoon. 

You could barely hear the conversation between the father and son, too focused on your own thoughts of what you would say if Jughead for some reason needed to come into the bedroom. From what you gathered, Jug needed help fixing up a motorcycle he picked up and wanted to see if his dad was up for the task. All you could think about was how that could have been a phone call, a text even. But no, he just had to come all the way here to ask this 5-second question. FP was quick to agree to help him and set up a time later this week for him to come over with the bike to work on it. He made up some excuse about having a long day and being exhausted, ushering Jughead out the door just as quickly as he burst in. once he was sure Jug was gone and not coming back, he walked back into the bedroom and ran his hands through his hair. God, he looked sexy when he was stressed. 

“Well that was close,” you said simply 

[curligurl0896]

So getting to read @thejakeformerlyknownasprince 's FMA AU reminded me of my own ideas for a FMA/Animorphs fic. A crossover, in this case, a Megamorphs of sorts (complete with rotating narration) because I really want an excuse to have the Animorphs interact with the characters of the FMA universe. I don't have enough ideas worked out to confidently write a whole fanfic yet, so I think I'll just share some of my ideas so that at least they don't stay inside my head forever like the vast majority of ideas that I either never finish enough to post it or just never get around to at all, especially when my brain is always generating new plot bunnies instead of focusing on developing the ones I already have, it's so distracting lol

(Also maybe y'all could give some suggestions if you wanna, I'd definitely appreciate it lol)

Anyway, here it is:

First off, the answer as to how exactly the Animorphs end up in the FMA universe: I was kicking around a few ideas for this, and was originally thinking something along the lines of like, a freak accident that somehow results in them ending up in front of the Gate of Truth, but I think a better idea would be for an alchemist (or perhaps even several alchemists) to end up in the Aniverse, get Yeerkified, and the Yeerk (or Yeerks, as it may be), intrigued by the memories and knowledge of an alternate Earth where you can manipulate matter and shape it according to your will with nothing more than a well drawn chalk circle (or even less than that if you've been through the Gate, as the Yeerk(s) will eventually discover), lured in by the idea of a legendary object that supposedly can be used to circumvent a pesky little law known as Equivalent Exchange, decides to pull something of a "Tom's Yeerk and his Yeerk buddies a la book 52" deciding to start their own colony in the FMAverse where they won't have to answer to the Council of Thirteen or the Visserarchy (well, at least the ones higher ranked than the Yeerk in charge, who, I imagine, would have to be a Sub-Visser at the very least to have the power to arrange all this) in addition to being able to use alchemy, which, much like the morphing power, can be used for a massive variety of things, ranging from merely convenient to pretty damn useful in a pinch to OP as fuck to even just downright terrifying.

It takes a lot of time and meticulous planning, of course, as they have to find a way to transport the Yeerks, their ship, and all the other stuff they'll need to thrive over there through the Gate and into the FMAverse-- all while in a universe where alchemy flat out doesn't work. The Yeerks have to figure out how to get around that issue, and it takes at least a year of research and using their new hosts' alchemical knowledge to work out a solution, but they work it out, and soon enough they get everything set up and ready to go. At some point, the Chee find out about this secret unknown project going on, inform the Animorphs about it, and Jake decides that they should at least check it out on the off chance that it's something big.

That's where the story officially starts: with our team of traumatized teenage shapeshifters at the location where this thing is being set up (haven't figured out the where yet). They've spent the past several days spying on these Yeerks, but still aren't sure what exactly is going on-- they keep talking about opening a gate-- and aren't sure if it's worth it. Marco's convinced the whole thing is ridiculous, especially after overhearing a human Controller mention something about a "Philosopher's Stone" ("What is this, Harry Potter? Are they gonna wave wooden sticks around and yell in Latin?") . Rachel is bored at this point, and just wants to kick ass and call it a day-- they were probably up to no good anyway. Cassie isn't particularly keen on the asskicking part, but she's been having a bad feeling about all this that she can't shake, and Tobias agrees that something fishy is going on and says they should wait a few days-- after all, from what they've gleaned, whatever plans these Yeerks had would be set in motion very soon. Ax, being Ax, declares as usual that he'll just go along with whatever Prince Jake orders, though when Jake presses him about his opinion, he just says he isn't sure what to make of it. In the end, they keep it up for a couple more days, and sure enough, the time comes for the Yeerks to "open the gate", whatever that means.

After all the time they'd spent spying on the Yeerks, it is conveniently now, when the Yeerks are about to do their thing, that they're discovered. It quickly turns into a fight, and the Animorphs attempt to bail as they're soon overwhelmed-- and then the Gate is opened.

None of them had any idea what to expect next. They certainly weren't expecting the blue lightning that erupted around them in a massive circle, seeming to originate from the curving lines that had been so painstakingly carved into the floor. They aren't expecting the atmosphere to turn dark and purple and creepy, or for a giant grey eye to suddenly appear beneath them, or for wavy black tentacle arms to come out of that eye. And they definitely were NOT expecting to abruptly find themselves in the white void of Zerospace.

Only they aren't in Z-space, exactly. Surrounded by it, sure, but somehow they stand there, as if on solid ground, surrounded by the eerie blankness that had once nearly suffocated them to death.

Each Animorph is utterly alone, with nothing and no one else in sight. That is, until they hear a voice, one that sounds like several voices speaking in unison, and suddenly they see a figure-- or, more accurately, an outline of a figure, with only shadows to mark where the figure ended and the void began. The figure is shaped like a human in all but Ax and Tobias's case: the figure Ax sees is shaped like an Andalite, and Tobias's version takes the form of a bird.

Truth gives the whole "I am God, I am the world, and I am also you" speech, then informs them they can't pass through the Gate without payment. Suddenly, there's a huge gateway where previously there was nothing. Truth is unconcerned with the fact that these "A-ni-morphs" have zero clue what's going on-- it simply takes the required toll and sends them on their way.

Except the toll is literal body parts-- which, even then, isn't usually a big deal for an Animorph, but in this case it absolutely is a big deal, because, as they'll soon discover, there's no way they're going to just replace their lost limbs through morphing. It's expressly forbidden for one to simply have nice things in this universe; in other words, Truth isn't letting them off the hook that easily.

The discovery that they're not able to replace their lost body parts through morphing is especially horrifying to Ax, because, well, y'know... book 40. The one that every Ax fan, and really anyone who otherwise genuinely enjoys Ax's character, would like to pretend never fucking happened.

In fact, given Truth's precedent for irony when extracting payment from people who've opened/been through the Gate in the series, I have no doubt in my mind that Ax would end up suffering the exact same fate as Mertil. Andalites, after all, place high value on their tail blades, especially the warriors; it's their number one go-to weapon when shit hits the fan. Ax himself is such a warrior, in fact it's a huge part of who he is as a person. Needless to say I think yeeting Ax's tail blade would be the exact kind of twisted irony that Truth would employ.

He gets over himself eventually-- well, sort of. However, it takes him a long time to truly come to terms with it-- instead of accepting that the attitudes he'd been taught his whole life regarding those who aren't fully able-bodied are actually shit, I feel like he'd be more likely to double down on them, internalizing them, and actually go into full-on self loathing as a result.

He holds his metaphorical tongue, though, upon seeing that Tobias has suffered a payment that is arguably far more cruelly ironic-- given that Tobias is a bird, given that his initial attraction to the morph that eventually became his default body came from the sense of freedom and escapism only provided through flying, I think it's fairly obvious what Truth would take: his wings.

As for the others: Rachel has lost her arm (for basically the same reason Ed did), Cassie loses her hands (which she uses to, you know, help injured animals and stuff), and as for Jake... well, it was a bit of a struggle, the best I could come up with is the idea of him going blind much like Mustang did after being forced to open the Gate (though maybe not for the same reason, though... idk. If anyone has any better suggestions, please let me know lol, I couldn't think of any solid ideas for what body part would be ironic for Jake to lose). Marco is the only one who doesn't lose any outwardly visible body parts-- what he loses is his voice.

At some point, they are discovered, taken into custody by the Amestrian military, and eventually they end up in Colonel Mustang's office. Mustang listens to their story with a massive dose of skepticism. He isn't sure what to make of these bizarre barefoot children, nor their claims of fighting bodysnatching slugs from outer space by turning into animals, nor their wingless pet hawk, nor... well, he could only assume the other creature was some sort of chimera, although he had zero clue what animals could have possibly been used to make something with blue fur and extra eyes.

At this point, they're about to do a morphing demonstration to prove to the Colonel that they aren't completely batshit, when suddenly the door is slammed open, and a teenage boy with blond hair and sharp golden eyes comes sauntering in, accompanied by a hulking giant covered head to toe in a suit of armor.

The boy immediately starts shouting at Mustang, calling him a bastard and accusing him of wasting his time, to which Mustang responds by merely rolling his eyes and sighing, as if this sort of thing happens all the time (spoiler alert: it does). After a moment, the kid stops as he takes notice of the other kids standing in the room.

"So," he says, calmly, as if he wasn't yelling at his superior just a moment ago, "what's the deal with these fuckers?"

The casual use of the kind of language that would have surely landed them in hot water back home was quite shocking, but they don't comment on it. Instead, Rachel says, in a voice sweet as honey, "Oh, look, Marco. He's just as short as you are."

Before Marco could turn to glare daggers at her (come on, it wasn't like he could argue back in that moment), the boy goes absolutely ballistic, and the armored guy has to physically restrain him as he screams obscenities at Rachel ("The fuck did you just call me, you freakishly oversized bitch? I'll show you too-fucking-short-to-fucking-sit-at-the-fucking-table-without-a-fucking-booster-seat! Call me short one more fucking time, I fucking dare you to! You think I give a shit that you're a girl? I'll fuck that pretty face of yours right up, just you fucking wait--")

"Brother!" The armored guy cries. "Calm down!" Then, to the Animorphs: "I'm sorry about my brother's behavior. He's, um, a bit sensitive about his height."

"A bit sensitive" is the understatement of the century, but none of the Animorphs call him out on it. They're too dumbfounded by the sound of his voice, which sounds sweet, innocent, and, despite his size, sounds like it belonged to a boy no more than nine or ten years old.

And that's where I'm going to leave it for now, since I've spent way too long on this post already. I have a few other ideas, but mostly in bits and pieces, not really any more comprehensive plot points beyond this point. Please do let me know what you think!

[breakmebucky]

Burning Love

Word Count: 5032 Warnings: Eventual Smut. Sex Pollen (I know, I’m not proud of it either.) Some descriptions of dead folks. Jealous Loki. Jotunn-esque Loki. Characters: Loki x Reader

               “Yield.” Loki demanded as his knife rested against the thin flesh of her throat. He smirked as his gaze traveled from her throat down to where her chest was heaving from the intensity of their sparring.

               “You first.” She replied, tapping her knife against the inside of Loki’s thigh, just over an artery.

               Loki pulled his gaze from the exposed skin above her collar and looked down the length of their bodies to where her knife was resting and then tilted his head slightly.

               “Clever.” He mused. “Very clever.” His fingers twisted in her hair and pulled her head back further, baring more of her neck to his knife. “But I would cut your throat before you’d ever have a chance to cut my femoral artery.” He grinned down at her and added, “So again…Yield.”

               “You should pay more attention.” She replied, pressing the tip of her other knife into the soft flesh in dip of Loki’s hip just enough to make its presence known. “That’s an aorta. You’d be dead in less than seven seconds between the two, Loki.” She added. “So, again…you first.”

               Loki inhaled sharply as the tip of the knife brushed against the sensitive skin over his aorta. The combined sensation of the cold metal on his skin and the vision of him pinning Y/N to his body stirred something in Loki and he released her before dropping his knife and raising his hands in surrender.

               “I yield.” He acquiesced. “You win this time, Y/N.”

                 “Ha!” Came a thunderous laugh from the other side of the training facility. “She has bested you, brother!”

               “Thor!” Y/N squealed, sheathing her knives and bolting across the mats towards him. She jumped as soon as she reached him and Thor caught her and supported her weight as she wrapped her legs around his middle and her arms around his neck in a full body hug. “I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow night!?”

               “It is the third Thursday of the month.” He replied, as if that explained anything. “It is movie night.”

               Y/N squealed as Thor spun her onto his back and grabbed her calves before giving her a piggy back out of the gym.

               Loki looked away, partly in disgust though mostly in jealousy. He was used to his brother getting everything he wanted for himself. First their father’s love, then the throne, and now…you. Loki would have said goodbye, but he didn’t want to interrupt the obviously long awaited homecoming between his brother and Y/N. He watched them leave and departed the gym shortly after, heading towards his room.

               He considered not joining the rest of the team for the monthly movie night, but eventually decided against it. His place on the team was still very much in flux and the undercurrent of tension between himself and some of the members was one suspicious activity away from explosive conflict. Loki flopped onto the end of the couch furthest from the others and offered a tight smile, which was returned before they returned to their previous conversation.

               “Scooch over, Rudolph.” Y/N joked before sitting down close enough to Loki that their hips touched. “Unless you want your brother in your lap.”

               “If I had to choose, it would not be him.” Loki responded dryly before sliding to the end of the couch as his brother crashed down on the other side of Y/N and dropped a bowl of extra buttery popcorn in her lap. She doesn’t evenlike that kind. Loki thought to himself as he rolled his eyes and tried to turn his attention to the movie and away from his oaf of a brother who had draped his arm over Y/N’s shoulder and was gently rubbing his thumb across her arm.

               “Excited for the mission tomorrow?” Y/N asked halfway through the movie, leaning over so Loki could hear her whisper.

               “Hmm?” Loki asked, turning away from the screen to look at Y/N. He flushed lightly when he realized how close her face was to his own. “Ah, I’m not on the mission for tomorrow?” He replied, his words equidistant a question and a statement.

               “Oh, I guess they didn’t tell you yet.” Y/N whispered again. “Steve needs Bucky on a different mission, so you’re stuck with me and Bruce.” She offered him a small smile and then added, “It’s just a quick intel sweep. In and out. One day, max.”

               “What are we whispering about?” Thor asked, leaning his full weight on Y/N as he tried to insert himself in the conversation. His action forced Y/N’s upper body into Loki’s lap, eliciting a groan from the smaller man.

               “Ugh.” Y/N groaned, shoving against Thor with a laugh. “We’re talking about the mission tomorrow. Now get. Off. Of. Me.”

               Thor laughed and pulled himself off of Y/N and pulling her into his side. Loki watched as Y/N rested her head on his brother’s chest and settled back in to watch the movie. Normally, the casual affection expressed between Thor and Y/N was simply irritating to Loki. Lately, however, he found himself getting more and more upset by it. Jealousy was not a foreign emotion to Loki, but he had never felt it quite like this before. He had never had the desire to have the attention of a singular person as deeply as he desired to have Y/N’s. He wasn’t sure quite why he craved her specifically or why his desire had recently gotten stronger, but Loki was sure that he couldn’t sit there and pretend to watch the movie anymore. Without making any excuses or saying goodnight, he left the common area and disappeared to his bedroom.

                 Loki didn’t remember falling asleep the night before, but he was awoken by the sound of someone knocking adamantly on his door.

               “Go away or I will skin you alive!” He shouted with a sleep heavy voice.

               “I’ll take my chances!” Y/N called back as the electronic lock beeped and she entered his room. “Come on, Rip Van Winkle, it’s mission time.”

               Loki looked up from the small mountain of pillows on his bed and shook his head.

               “No.”

               “What do you mean, No?”

               “I’m not going.”

               “Honestly, mood. But also, you have to.”

               “I am a God. I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to.”

               “Loki Laufeyson, get up before I drag you out of that bed.”

               “You wouldn’t dare.” Loki challenged with a small grin. He barely had time to register the acceptance of his challenge before the covers were suddenly whipped off his bed, leaving him completely exposed. A laugh bubbled up from his chest and filled his room at the sound of Y/N’s surprised squeal and the sight of her slamming her eyes shut and turning her back.

               “Damn it, Loki. You could’ve warned me!” She said with an embarrassed tone to her voice. Loki sat up and stretched before using his magic to put his clothes on.

               “I thought you were going to drag me out of bed.” He teased, grabbing his boots from under his bedside table.

               “You’re not funny.” Y/N shot back. “I will absolutely drag you out of that bed and make you go on the mission in your birthday suit.” She huffed and turned back around to face him. Loki noticed a small twinge of something that looked like disappointment cross her face and he grinned wickedly.

               “Yes, I’m dressed now.” He pointed out. “Sorry to disappoint.” He stood and closed the gap between himself and Y/N and reached out to push her hair behind her shoulder. “But if you’d like another look, I’d be happy to oblige.” His voice dropped an octave and he sensed the uptick in her heartbeat as well as the soft gasp that left her lips at the contact between his fingertips and her clavicle. Loki looked down at the woman with playful confusion, unsure if she was really reacting to him the way he thought, or if he was just imagining it.

               Y/N cleared her throat and took a step back before fixing her usual confidence on her face.

               “I’m good. Let’s go.” She said, hitching her thumb towards the door. “Bruce is waiting in the Quinjet.”

               “Of course he is.”

                 Loki spent the five hour trip in the Quinjet trying his absolute hardest not to either upset Bruce or lose his mind at the close quarter’s he found himself in.

               “You know, we didn’t need to fly. I could have just gotten us there already.” He pointed out from his spot in the back of the jet.

               “Full offense, Loki, but I don’t trust you or your magic.” Bruce replied as he brought the jet around and landed it gently on a strip of tarmac. “Besides, we need to establish an uplink between our system and whatever is left here.”

               Loki watched as Bruce turned to Y/N and asked her something, which she appeared to brush off as she slung her light tactical harness over her hips and clipped it into place.

               “You ready, Houdini?” Y/N asked with a grin as she opened the bay door of the jet and stepped out onto the hot asphalt. The difference in pressure pulled the hot air into the jet and sent Y/N’s scent directly into Loki’s face, causing the God to shift uncomfortably as his blood rushed from his head.

               “Let’s just get this over with.” Loki shot back, gritting his teeth and stepping out of the jet. The door closed behind them and Loki surveyed the land before them.

               “The scans say the building is empty. Well, empty of people anyhow.” Y/N explained as she began to cross towards the planted field that separated the tarmac from the abandoned base. “We’re picking up electrical readings, so hopefully there’s something in there that can give us an idea of why a team of twenty scientists and well trained soldiers suddenly and mysteriously abandoned the base.”

               “Remind me why I’m here again?” Loki scoffed, stopping at the edge of the field and watching Y/N cross through the plants.

               “Because I needed backup and I trust you.” Y/N replied, turning to shoot Loki an expectant look. “Now come on.”

               “I’m waiting on you.” He replied, calling to her from the other side of the field as he used his magic to skip actually walking through the strange plants. He caught the sound of Y/N’s laughter and saw her shake her head before she began to jog towards him. She slugged him in the shoulder playfully before they finished the trek to the abandoned building and then went inside.

                 It took less than ten minutes to figure out why no one had ever been seen evacuating the building. There, sprawled out amongst rotting food and dusty furniture, lay the corpses of five people; their flesh seemingly melted from their bones.

               “Oh god.” Y/N coughed, pulling her shirt up and over her nose in an attempt to mask the foul odor. “What happened to these people?”

               “There’s been no fire, but they look as though they were burnt.” Loki pointed out, pulling his knives from the dimensional space where he stored them. Something deep within him was screaming that they were in danger and that they should leave immediately. “We should not be here.”

               “Come on.” Y/N replied, pulling his wrist gently as she continued deeper into the building. “Let’s get the link established and get out.”

               Loki nodded and followed her as they continued on towards the mainframe, passing more burnt corpses along the way. There were no signs of how these people had died, just their flesh melted from their bones. It made Loki uneasy and he very nearly called the mission off and transported himself and Y/N out of the cursed building; but they reached the mainframe before he had a chance.

               “Please, do hurry.” Loki insisted as he watched the door for any signs of danger. Y/N immediately got in contact with Bruce and the two of them began to work on setting up the link.

               They were nearly done when Y/N suddenly began to fan herself with one hand. She pulled down the zipper of her bodysuit and groaned.

               “Loki…” She called, now gasping for air. “I don’t feel so good.” She turned to face Loki and he saw her forehead beading with sweat moments before she slid out of the chair and collapsed to the floor unconsious.

               “Y/N!” Loki exclaimed, diving to the floor to check her. His hand slid over her head and he pulled back in shock at the intense heat that radiated from her skin. Bruce could be heard over the comms, demanding for either of them to answer him. Loki snatched the receiver out of Y/N’s ear and fitted it into his own.

               “Bruce, I-I don’t know what’s happened.” He spoke, pulling Y/N’s head into his lap. “Y/N just collapsed. She’s burning up. We’ve got to get her back home.”

               “I agree.” Bruce stated, “But you need to finish that uplink first.”

               “Damn the link, you giant asparagus! Y/N is ill!” Loki shouted, not caring if he upset Bruce anymore.

               “And I need the uplink in case it’s something in the building, Loki!” Bruce snapped back.

               Loki growled in annoyance before removing his cape, balling it up, and gently moving Y/N’s head off of his lap to rest on it.

               “Tell me what to do then!”

                 Loki and Bruce quickly got the link established and Loki gathered Y/N up in his arms gently before using his magic to transport the both of them back to the ship. Bruce was already waiting with all the cold packs from the first aid kit. He cracked them and both he and Loki packed them against Y/N’s major arteries.

               “We don’t have enough to last five hours, but we’ve got to try.” Bruce mentioned before taking his seat and getting the jet back in the air.

               Two hours into the return trip home and there were no more ice packs remaining. Loki watched as Y/N’s temperature crept higher and higher, noted by the insistent beeping of the machine tracking her vitals. He could hear Bruce explaining the situation over the comms and the sounds of the other teammates as they tried to figure out how to get everyone home safely. Loki looked down at Y/N and wiped the beading sweat off of her cheek with his hand. A shudder ran through her body and the vitals showed a momentary downtick in her temperature before it resumed its growth.

               “Curious.” Loki muttered to himself, looking down at his own hand. It wasn’t until he really looked that he realized that his skin had taken on a bluish tint. Loki pulled his sleeve up and realized that the tint continued up his arm, disappearing under the cloth. He lifted the hem of his shirt and still more blue-tinted skin appeared. “Of course.” He said, exasperated with himself as he stripped himself of his shirt and began to remove Y/N’s extra layers.

               “What the hell are you doing?” Bruce’s voice demanded from the front of the jet as Loki stripped Y/N down to the thin undershirt she wore under her tactical gear. “Why are you blue?!”

               “I’m keeping her alive until you get us home.” Loki replied, scooping Y/N off the floor of the jet and cradling her in his lap against his cold chest. “Just focus on flying!”

               Bruce looked ready to argue, but the machine tracking Y/N’s vitals began to register a steadily decreasing temperature. His mouth snapped closed and his attention returned to the task of flying the plane.

               “Just hang on, Y/N.” Loki mumbled, pressing his lips to her temple. “Just hang on.”

               Two and a half of the remaining three hours passed with Y/N’s temperature steadily lowering before Loki felt her stir in his arms. Her eyes cracked open and he immediately noticed that the pupils had overtaken the color that he so enjoyed looking at.

               “You feel so good.” She murmured, tipping her head back to simultaneously rest on Loki’s shoulder and bare her throat. “I’m burning up.”

               “I know.” Loki replied, pressing his cool cheek to her warm one and trying to fight the urge to nip at the soft flesh she was offering. “You were exposed to something in the building.”

               “It’s so hot.” She whined, not listening to a word he said. “I’m going to burn up like the others.” Loki’s pupils widened as Y/N grabbed his hand and slid it under her shirt to rest over her heart. His fingers molded over the rounded flesh of her breast and he felt the nipple harden into a peak instantly, pressing firmly into his palm. “Can you feel it, Loki?” Y/N mewled pitifully. “I’m going to burn to death.”

               “I’m not going to let that happen.” He told her in a strained voice as he fought to control himself. “We’re going to get you back to the compound and Stark will fix you.”

               “I can’t last that long.” Y/N whimpered, pressing herself closer to Loki and causing friction in his pants. “I need you to fix me, Loki.” She whispered, pressing her feverish lips to the place just below his ear. “You can fix me, right?” Her hand dropped from his wrist and slid between their bodies before palming at Loki’s clothed cock. “I saw what you’ve got. I pretended not to, but…I saw.” Her voice filled with lust and her body began to warm again. “I bet you can fix me right up, can’t you?”

               Loki growled deep in his chest and, with great self-restraint on his part, he pulled his hand from under Y/N’s shirt and then removed her hand from between his thighs.

               “You just had to go into the field.” He scolded, realizing what Y/N had been exposed to. “Don’t worry, you will be back to my brother soon enough. He can fix you.”

               “No,” Y/N whined, turning on Loki’s lap to face him. “He can’t fix me.” She shook her head adamantly. “He can’t give me what I need.”

               “If his track record with maidens is anything to go by, I assure you he can.”

               “You don’t understand.” Y/N argued, shaking her head again. She tucked her face into Loki’s neck and licked a stripe across the cool flesh, causing him to shudder. “I need you, Loki.”

               Loki’s fingers gripped Y/N’s hips and he pulled her down flush into his lap. The warmth from between her thighs radiated through both of their pants as Y/N began to grind on Loki’s lap. His cock strained painfully in his trousers and his lip disappeared between his teeth as he struggled to keep himself from taking Y/N right there on the floor of the jet.

               “You’re so fucking warm.” He murmured against her skin, burying his face in her shoulder to disguise his grunts.

               “I’m warmer inside.” She teased, grabbing his hand and leading it to the top of her pants. “Go ahead and see.”

               Before Loki could accept the invitation, Bruce was landing the plane and the medical team was there separating the two of them and taking them to the Quarantine wing.

                 “It’s been hours and we can’t bring her temperature down.” Tony explained. “The cradle isn’t going to last much longer and putting her on ice won’t work.” He turned to Loki, who was once again dressed, but was still turning blue and continued, “Between Y/N burning from the inside, and you turning into a Smurf, I think it’s safe to say the both of you were exposed to something.”

               “I wasn’t exposed to anything.” Loki replied, rolling his eyes.

               “I don’t know if you’ve notice, but you’re doing a solid impression of a blueberry, Reindeer Games.”

               “I am well aware.” He shot back with a glare. “This happens on occasion.”

               “And how often is on occasion?” Tony demanded.

               “There is no need to worry. Once every year, Loki experiences his birthright.” Thor supplied as he strode into the medical facility, unaware of the serious situation that Y/N was in. “It is mating season for the Frost Giants!”

               “Mating seas- you know what? I don’t have time to make a joke about that right now.” Tony said, shaking his head. “Thor, when you initially scouted the facility did you notice anything weird?”

               “Weird? No. Nothing weird.” He replied. “Unless you count the fields.”

               “What’s weird about the fields?” Tony asked, his jaw clenching in annoyance.

               “Oh they are full of Libidine plants.” Thor said as though that explained anything. “It’s quite rare to see so many in one place and even more rare to see them on Midguard.”

               “Libidine Plants?” Bruce interrupted. “But libidine means lust in Latin. Why would a plant be called…”

               “Yes.” Thor confirmed the unspoken question. “Their pollen is a potent aphrodisiac. That is why I volunteered Loki to go with Y/N. So he could magic them past the fields. She would burn alive from her own body heat if she were exposed to the pollen.”

               “She was.” Loki interrupted.

               “I’m sorry, what?” Thor demanded, rounding on his brother. “You allowed her to be exposed to concentrated libidine?! How foolish are you, brother? Where is she?!”

               As if on cue, the quarantine wing filled with the sound of Y/N pained scream and her pleas for someone to help her. Thor was down the hall in a matter of seconds with Loki on his heels.

               “Thor, wait.” Loki said, trying to reach his brother before he opened the door. He was a second too slow and Thor threw open the door to Y/N’s room before immediately shutting his eyes and turning his back on the nearly naked woman. “I tried to warn you.” Loki pointed out.

               “How long has she been like this?” Thor demanded.

               “Eight hours, maybe nine.” Tony cut in, having finally caught up to the brothers.

               “You have to help her.” Loki told his brother. “You know what has to be done. She’s not going to last much longer. She will spiral into madness if you don’t help her.”

               “I cannot help her.” Thor confessed, looking at his brother in distress.

               “You would let her die?!” Loki pressed. “You spend all your time fucking her already, but now, when she actually needs you…you won’t do it?”

               “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We don’t do that.”

               “Save your lies, brother.” Loki hissed. “I have watched you with envy for months. I know you are lovers.”

               “We are not lovers.” Thor insisted. “She is a comrade. Her heart belongs to another.”

               Loki was about to call Thor out on his bullshit again when Y/N suddenly threw herself at him.

               “I knew you would come back.” She moaned, as her hands slid up Loki’s chest. “I need you to fix me, Loki.” Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt as she danced from one foot to the other, burning with need. “Please, please, please, please…” She begged, abandoning the buttons and sliding her hands up either side of Loki’s face. “Please, Loki.” She murmured before pressing her lips to his.

                 Loki felt something surge in his chest and his fingers found purchase on the backs of Y/Ns thighs before he lifted her off her feet and wrapped her legs around his middle. He barely acknowledged the departure of the others as he allowed himself to fall into the rapture that was Y/N’s lips on his own. Loki’s arm swept across a nearby table, sending glass and paper crashing to the floor. He lay Y/N on the now bare surface, thus freeing his hands to pull at the remaining clothing on her body. The clothing fell away like wet tissue paper under his icy strength, leaving Y/N bared entirely for Loki’s consumption. A strained sound came from Loki’s throat and then his hands and lips were roving hungrily her body, drawing the most lascivious and beautiful sounds from her as he explored. He slid his hand between her open thighs and traced two fingers through her sopping folds, spreading the flesh there.

               “By the Gods,” He breathed in amazement. “You’ve been suffering longer than I thought.” His fingers swirled around the sensitive bud at the peak of her heat and a hungry grin graced Loki’s lips as he witnessed the way Y/N began to come undone.

               “Please, Loki.” Y/N mewled, bucking her hips against his hand, desperate for more friction. “I need…”

               “What do you need, Y/N?” Loki pressed. “Tell me.”

               “I need more. I’m burning.” She gasped, moving one of her hands to her own slickness to try and get more friction.

               Loki pinned her errant hand to the table by the wrist and slid the fingers of his other hand deep into her in a fluid series of motions. Y/N cried out and gripped Loki’s forearm with her free hand as he began to pump his fingers into her. Loki’s hunger grew as he watched Y/N squirm on the table and felt her clench around his fingers. Just when he thought her cries couldn’t be any closer together, Loki curled his fingers up and pressed them into the sensitive place within Y/N. Her back arched and she called out his name, her walls clenching around his fingers as she rode out her orgasm.

               Loki pulled his fingers from within Y/N and cast his eyes over to the screen that still displayed her vitals. Her body registered a large drop in temperature and Loki smirked.

               “We can do better than that.” He growled before pulling his straining cock free from his pants and discarding the garments somewhere else in the room. He gripped his base and swiped his tip through the intense warmth of Y/N’s core before pushing forward and sheathing himself completely inside her. Loki attached his lips to Y/N’s and swallowed the gasp that his intrusion had summoned. He stilled inside her for the briefest moment, trying to allow her to adjust.

               “Fuck me…” Y/N whispered against his lips. “I’ve been waiting forever.”

               Her words spurred Loki on and his fingers grabbed her hips in a bruising grip before he began to piston his hips in and out of her. The table screeched in protest as their fucking caused it to scoot across the tiled floor. Y/N’s screams of bliss filled the room as Loki slammed into her over and over again. He lost himself in her warmth and the feeling of her wrapped tightly around him. He lost count of the number of times her fingers or her teeth dug into his skin and her cunt clenched around his cock. Their escapades moved from the table, to the wall, to the bed, and finally to the floor when the bed gave out. Loki littered Y/N’s flesh with hickies and bites, each more fervent and needy than the last. He felt his pleasure coil tightly in his belly and he bent down to kiss Y/N once again, but then felt her lips moving against his own in a whisper of words.

               “What’s that, darling?” He asked between thrusts. Loki felt Y/N’s hands twist into his hair and she brought his ear to her lips before repeating herself.

               “I love you.”

               The coil in Loki snapped and his vision whited out as he spilled himself deep inside Y/N with a groan. Loki collapsed to the side of Y/N and drew her into his embrace as they both fought to catch their breath. Loki’s eyes searched the room for the screen with Y/N’s vitals on it, finally finding it overturned on the floor about five feet from their naked forms.

               “We were successful.” Loki noted, pointing to the numbers that indicated Y/N’s temperature had fallen to a normal level.

               “Mmm.” She hummed beside him. “You can say that again.” Her fingers crept across Loki’s chest and he turned his gaze to meet her own. He had never seen the look she held in anyone’s eyes before. Not directed at him, anyhow. There was something deep and consuming in her gaze that set Loki’s heart racing again. He opened his mouth to ask the question nagging at him, but changed his mind when he felt Y/N shiver against him.

               “Are you cold now?” Loki asked. When she nodded, he simply waved his hand and they were suddenly in his darkened room buried in the mountain of pillows and thick blankets on his bed. “Is that better?”

               “I can see why you don’t want to leave your bed in the morning.” Y/N replied, pulling the blankets up higher on them both and curling further into Loki’s embrace. “These are the softest sheets I’ve ever felt.” A yawn escaped her and she covered her mouth until it passed. “Sorry…so sleepy.” She hummed softly.

               “No apology necessary, love.” Loki replied, feeling sleep tugging at his own mind. Before he let himself fall into a blissful slumber next to the woman he cherished beyond all others, he had to rid his mind of the continually nagging question.

               “Y/N…”

               “Mmm?” She hummed in response.

               “Did you mean it?”

               “About your sheets?” She asked sleepily. “Absolutely. These are the softest sheets I’ve ever felt.” There was a joking air to her words, but they still didn’t hit Loki right.

               “No.” Loki sighed, his previous elation taking a stumble. “Never mind…” He felt Y/N shift and turned to see her staring at him with her chin propped up on her palm.

               “Loki,” She said softly, reaching out to push his hair back off his face. “Yes, I mean it. I love you.”

               Loki felt her lips brush his own and his heart swelled again at the soft contact. He cupped her jaw and deepened the kiss, licking along her bottom lip until she parted her lips and allowed him to delve deeper into her mouth. Their tongues explored each other’s mouths for another minute or two before breaking away in a series of smaller kisses. Y/N settled back into Loki’s embrace and he carded his fingers through her hair as she began to drift to sleep.

               “I love you too.” Loki whispered when he thought she’d fallen asleep finally.

               “I know.” Came her response before they both slipped into a heavy and much needed rest.

[sepublic]

Kikimora and King Parallels?

           All right, so some discussions I’ve had with @50shades-of-blue have got me further thinking with the idea of Kikimora being King’s parallel. Honestly, I could just be projecting my speculation onto her… But with the smug way she passive-aggressively talks to Lilith in front of those kids, and how quick she is to cave into Luz’s threats while otherwise trying to be proper…

           …She lowkey gives me vibes of King, if he like. Had access to ACTUAL power and authority, like he rode on the coattails of Luz or Eda as they ascended, and he KNOWS he’s above everybody else as a result of this! And he’s proud and smug of it, like, “Look at my friend, they’re so cool and powerful! And I’m THEIR friend, what’re you gonna do about it!?” There’s that subtle energy of being a little shit and a gremlin beneath it all… And Kiki comes across as more ‘mature’ because she’s had more experience, access to lessons on ‘proper manners and dignity’, and isn’t constantly frustrated by a lowly position in society and is thus less prone to temper tantrums, but.

           By the end of the day, she’s still a gremlin, and like King, she can get in over her head; So at the first sight of a legitimate issue, she caves into Luz’s threats (though this could just be blamed on runtime issues), just as King quickly defaults to getting the help of someone like Hooty, or running from Half-Cursed Eda! But maybe like King (or not these characters are also contrasts as well), Kikimora is someone who WILL lay her life down whenever her friends are directly threatened… Hence her genuine concern at seeing what Luz did to Belos, and insisting she avenge him afterwards.

           Then, there’s what @50shades-of-blue suggested about Kikimora having been with Belos since the very beginning… Like, the concept of her having been a lowly grifter/scavenger like King, a petty thief down-on-her-luck and with a napoleon complex because of how helpless she was… But she takes to Belos, and acts as a bad-idea friend and lowkey enabler, sort of like King with Luz… But there IS some tenderness and genuine sweetness, perhaps! Like maybe Kikimora DOES care for Belos as an actual friend and not just a vehicle for power (not to say she doesn’t enjoy those benefits either)…

           And you know how King is an author and talks big of himself? If Kikimora is his parallel, then what if she was someone who helped Belos write propaganda and speeches, helped persuade the Boiling Isles to how GREAT this dude was, wrote history in his favor and basically acted as his hype-woman? Sort of like King, but he’s directing his hype-talk towards his friends, which is also something he’d totally do!

           Alternatively, perhaps her relationship with Belos is a lot less warm… Again, as a contrast to Luz and King amidst the parallels, and like how Lilith and Amity are a lot colder and more professional towards one another! Perhaps as a dark reflection of Luz and King’s friendship, Belos and Kikimora only really value one another for what the other can provide; Belos lets Kiki around because she acts as his public face, hyping him up to young generations and spreading his lies to the news outlets. While Kiki supports Belos, because this means power and authority- Almost commensalistic, but Kikimora still has her own things to provide!

           Maybe Kikimora’s relationship with Belos is like King, where she gets away with stuff because she can basically ‘hide behind Belos’ for protection, even if she’s also capable of magic as well! Can you imagine a younger Kiki acting like King, getting a younger Belos roped into her ludicrous schemes to get power or money or whatever, and like Luz, Belos goes along with it… But because he’s not exactly Luz, Belos keeps doing things without really considering the consequences? And he rises as Kikimora’s ‘top minion’ but eventually seizes control for himself… But at the same time he still keeps Kikimora around as a friend and a subordinate, you know?

           And so it’s this idea of Kikimora having lowkey raised him/assisted in his rise to power, kind of like King was a reliable friend to Luz and treats her like as his ‘top minion’, but also as a real friend and makes sure to give her emotional support and love himself! And just as Luz is shaping up to be a powerful witch and likes to humor King’s fantasies, Kikimora helped Belos ‘ascend’ from common thief, as he began to take initiative and control once he got used to how things worked! Just as Luz makes the decision to challenge Belos in Eda’s absence, while King happily follows, even if he also sees himself as having to take care of and protect Luz, regardless of the fact that it’s likely to be the other way around!

           Imagine Belos and Kiki having been like Luz and King, except there’s no Eda to keep them in line… Perhaps their relationship was also a bit more toxic, with Kikimora treating Belos more like an underling at times, but either way some fondness still existed, so when Belos DID rise and ‘overthrow’ Kiki, he still kept her around as a subordinate… Maybe in part to flex the reversal of roles, and because she has genuine use as his hype-woman and not somebody who’s a walking, melting body horror of a flesh-puppet.

          But still; Imagine Dark Luz and King, except they’re just very selfish and enabling towards one another without stopping for self-reflection! Perhaps some issues will come into play about Kiki wanting Belos for himself or something alone those lines, or Belos forgetting about his friend in favor of other connections… Who knows? If Belos is Luz if she never learned her lessons, then perhaps Kikimora could be King sans character development!

          What if when Belos and Kiki first met, she also threatened to eat him or whatever like King joked about, and for a while Belos was legit afraid of this… But he also still hung around her because she provided companionship and guidance! Like Luz and King, troublemakers with hearts of gold, but those hearts are only directed towards one another, mostly, and otherwise they do NOT care about how others are harmed! Basically just utter children by this point.

          For all we know, Kiki’s own past immaturity (a mirror to King’s) lowkey influenced Belos into becoming the horrific, genocidal dictator he is today, a man with no regards for the lives of others he doesn’t care about or who don’t ‘fit in’ with this ideals! Like, perhaps like King during Really Small Problems, Kikimora didn’t want to lose Belos and was possessive of him…

          But instead of maturing, Kikimora opted to isolate Belos from any other friends and positive influences, which contributed to Belos becoming so terrible! And if Belos realizes this, or does… Would he care? Would he care on the principle of how reliable Kiki is to him, or have they reached a point where she’d never betray him regardless because of what SHE has to lose? Not to mention how Belos may see his current path in life as the ‘proper’ one, so perhaps Kiki isolating him was for the best….

          Maybe it’ll directly parallel King’s antics with the Trash Slug, or Sergeant New Guy; Maybe Kiki was even deliberately harsh towards Belos to keep her sense of power and control, but also to keep him dependent upon her… But in the end, Belos became stronger and rebelled! But at the same time, he still kept Kikimora around… Perhaps because there was still some fondness there? Because they still had uses for one another? Maybe Kikimora still has some level of control and manipulation over Belos, at least enough to convince him to keep her around, even if she’s no longer in charge like she used to be…

          And just as Belos may be codependent and even parasitic to the Titan, perhaps Kikimora is the same to him as well? Or at the very least it’s a lot better… Could you imagine if Belos ‘realizes’ Kikimora’s power/manipulation over him? And Belos decides that he’s had enough of her ‘parasitically’ riding on his coattails, but not providing him anything that couldn’t easily be replaced… So he cuts ties by firing Kikimora and replacing her? And alone and dejected, Kiki has nowhere else to gobesides the Owl House?

          Alternatively, Kikimora acts as the only person Belos will listen to that can actively act as a buffer between him and going completely all-out with no reservations or brakes… But then Belos decides to ‘discard’ her because he thinks Kikimora is limiting him, when in reality he’s actually keeping Belos from going too far? Maybe she’ll act as his Voice of Reason, as the only person Belos will listen to when it comes to criticisms and reconsidering his actions…

          Only for that to abruptly end as the Day of Unity nears and Belos becomes more anxious? As Belos’ public face, Kikimora could function as someone who reins the Emperor in. because she’s most familiar with/concerned about the Emperor’s Coven appearing palatable to Belos’ subjects, given how that’s her entire job? So she’ll sometimes advise Belos NOT to utterly eradicate this small community off the face (not the actual skull) of the Boiling Isles, just beat them into submission?

          Not out of a genuine concern for these people, mostly just to be pragmatic, and/or she IS concerned about Belos getting a little too nuts… Then again, we also see Kikimora suggest attacking the Owl House in retaliation for Belos’ damage, and it’s Belos who makes the decision on his own to ‘sate’ the public by pretending to spare Eda’s life, and doesn’t bother trying to actively arrest/suppress them –even if they’re in the middle of the Conformatorium- because that’s just not necessary, and he has better things to do?

          So perhaps instead, Kikimora will operate from an inferiority complex and be the hotheaded one, like King, vouching for Belos to utterly annihilate his opponents, just as King tells Luz to ‘beat up the man and steal his things’, while Belos/Luz offer a more calm, pragmatic approach that doesn’t require violence because they’re more practical like that? Or alternatively…

          It’s BOTH options, just like how King will sometimes encourage Luz to decimate their opponents, but when the time calls for it, he can act as a voice of reason and tell Luz NOT to challenge the Emperor himself! Sometimes Belos wants to commit genocide and Kiki has to rein him in, because what of his reputation…? And sometimes Kikimora will want to go for the nuclear option while Belos calmly suggests just reasoning with people and keeping them satisfied!

          Kikimora suggests making petrifications hidden from the public to prevent them from turning on Belos… But then the Season Finale happens, she feels power slipping away and panics in-part because of her inferiority complex, so she suggests petrifying the ENTIRE crowd as an example! And of course, Belos calmly reminds Kikimora that this isn’t necessary, that believe it or not, people won’t rebel if they’re given what they want!

          Kikimora advises revenge against the Owl House because her pride has been hurt, because she’s felt threatened and vulnerable for the first time in a LONG while, which means she has to utterly eradicate the opposition to leave no room for doubt who’s in charge, to leave no chance of more threats? But Belos is calm, and has control of the situation, he’s not as insecure as Kikimora and is thus less liable to acting rashly when he feels threatened. In essence, they both take turns sharing the brain cell… Just like Luz and King!

[deadbydaylight-blood-moon]

Daddy’s little boy

 Chapter 1: his stare

(lol so this is going to be my first official multi chapter, and yes I know this doesn’t have any of my ocs but I’m doing this for @franks-mixtape whose frank is being used here in this little chapter lol more to come later.)

Warning fic mentions: dubcon, profanity, homophobia                                           ----------3 years in the past--------- The air in the club was heavy, filled with the smell of cigarette smoke and sweat, the strobe lights blasting their reds, pinks, and blues into the occupants' eyes. But nobody really cared; their systems filled with alcohol, weed, and any other substance they could get their hands on. For most of the occupants in the refurbished warehouse, their priorities were grinding on the person next to them. The people not dancing to the beat of the loud music were crowded at the edges of the building. Some sat at the white couches that littered the remainder of the floor that weren't considered dance floor. Either talking or making out with the person next to them, some people were standing up back against the walls, drinks in hand, holding up conversations, or once again making out. Frank sat at one of the more isolated couches in the far right of the building, his drink in hand, a simple bourbon on ice. It was easy to get in; all you had to do is just slip a fifty in his pocket and, you were granted access, the guy didn’t care that Frank and the girl he was with looked so young. Which was a blessing to the teen. He had heard of this place, overhearing the guys on the team talk about it during practice which spiked the rowdy teen interest. He wanted to truly see how good this place was, but right now instead of having fun, he was looking at the scene that was happening across the litter of couches. Debra, the cunt he was with, had her leg wrapped around another dude. And his tongue was deep inside her throat, and the guy’s hand sliding up her thigh. Frank wanted to smash the glass in his hand on the fucker’s head, but he wasn’t innocent as well, he could admit that he was a fucking asshole in the past. He could admit that he would smirk when the bitch walked in on him fucking the shit out of another girl. But that was different, he was Frank fucking James Morrison and no one fucks around while being with Frank fucking James Morrison. At least if they didn’t want their head stomped in. 

But here he was, sitting watching the bitch as she pretended to act like she didn’t have the best thing in the world. He huffed as he gulped the last of the brown liquid that burned his throat, the alcohol in his brain making him ignore the stare that lingered on him more than what Frank would allow. He wiped his mouth before going to the dance floor. If she wanted to play like that, so could he. He put his glass on one of the many tables as he stood up.

The club was pitch dark except for the strobe lights and the bright beaming light aimed at the floor, he licked his dry lips. He scouted for a fuckable bitch he could flaunt, he was at the other end of the club by the time he began to sway with a girl that obviously was too drunk to consent. The girl rubbing back against him, made him grunt, the girl was small and her arms had to come over her head to wrap around Frank's neck. His eyes, however, were latched to the girl at the other end. He growled and became rougher with the girl, nails digging into the skin of her hip. As it seemed that Debra didn’t even notice. The girl wiggled for him to loosen his grip but he tightened, even more, his hot breath and his deepening grunts only showed he wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings as the crowd of people around him got thicker. 

It wasn’t until he felt a pair of strong hands on his hips that he snapped from the rage-fueled trip. He let go of the girl, who stumbled away, to turn around quickly ready to slug the fag who dared touch him like that, but as his fist flew through the air, it was stopped dead by a bigger hand. “ Now hold on,” the man said his voice, loud enough to be heard over the music, it was smooth and deep and it sent something through Frank that made his ass clench and his dick twitch. The man had black hair gelled back, and from what he could see with the light he had, the man's features were heavily chiseled with a jawline that cut a man cleanly through. It honestly took Frank’s breath away how regal this man looked. But the feeling was overcome by the feeling of angry as he yanked his hand away, “ don’t fucking touch me fairy!” Frank said with acid filling his words. He huffed deeply as he turned his back towards the man who had his eyebrow raised and arms that looked like he could crush a man’s skull crossed. An unimpressed look on his face as the teen walked towards what he thought was the restroom. 

Even though the club had a modern feel the restrooms had a completely different thing going on, as the restrooms were located in the corner left of the building. Black doors scratched to hell, and it was a single toilet restroom. Frank guessed that there was another set of restrooms since there wasn’t a line at this place, or probably people went somewhere else to piss. Well whatever, Frank guessed as he entered the room lit by a red light. ‘Weird choice’ he thought as he closed the door and hurried to relieve himself, he didn’t hear the door open too buzzed and preoccupied to notice the sound of footsteps coming behind him. Shaking off what was left, Frank felt a giant hand grip his hip in a vice. “What the-!” Another hand lace themselves through his pitch dark hair, and before he could figure what the hell was going on. He was forced against the sink, his face slamming against the mirror, it wasn’t until he heard the sultry hot breath on his ear. “ You are a rambunctious thing huh? The voice said before biting down lightly on the younger one’s earlobe. Frank gasped as his eyes shot open, “ making a show like that” the man continued, starting to place small soft kisses on the teen’s neck. His body making him release a soft moan only for his mind to be flooded by the memories. His hands opened from their clenched state as he wiggled and tossed in the grasp of the other, “calm down” the man behind the teen said lightly. But Frank didn't listen to him, the scene was too familiar, too lifelike from those awful nights. “You looked so alone sitting there. I wanted to come over there and make you forget whatever was bothering you” the man tightened his grip on the boy’s hair, lifting his head up to see who was doing this to him. Frank’s eyes widened when the face of the guy who put his hands on him on the dance floor looking back at him in the mirror. Now closer he could see that the man was groomed to hell, not one hair out of place. With a hunger in his eyes and perfectly kissable lips. His confined hands tried to push the man’s legs away, but the man was stronger and the stranger proved it as he remained unmoved. He slammed Frank again against the mirror, grunting a “calm down”, his voice turning deep and raspy, and there was this power to those words. A power Frank could feel in his loins, it was a power that twisted the teen’s stomach and closed his throat. But it was also a warm feeling that filled Frank, and to his surprise the command made him calm down. Frank let a whimper against the slab of glass, not given a chance to do anything, the hand snaked his way to Frank's face sliding three fingers into the teen's mouth. Who at first hesitated to allow the digits any space, but a thrust of polyester against his denim jeans covered ass made frank grunt. Allowing the digits their way in, Frank grunted ready to bite this fucker, finding some new source of energy he again tried to struggle. Another tuck of his hair and the man lifted Frank up off the mirror“ oh so you like being bad I see?” the man said with a chuckle “ guess I got to show you huh?” Frank wanted to curse the man out, call him every word in the book. But when the man took his hand off his hip and took hold of Frank’s cock and ball by the base, Frank couldn’t help but gasp, the sound is muffled as the fingers in his mouth wiggled and searched in the warm cavern. “ You're pretty big down there,” he tucked the teen’s member, who moaned around fingers. “ Never did it with someone as big as you” the man tucked again and frank once again let out a muffled cry.  But for a second, Frank felt something from the compliment. The man pushed Frank against the mirror again, taking him away from the thought he was having. As the fingers belonging to the stranger were removed from his mouth, now covered in a thick layer of spit. The stranger bent down leaning over a still struggling Frank, as his soaked fingers slowly roamed down the smaller body. Frank’s pants and underwear were already pooled around his feet, so when Frank felt the cooler digit slowly teased his hole. His eyes widened once again, and again with another burst of energy, he tried to free himself. The man only smirked as the tip of his finger entered the boy's heart. Frank gasped as he went on his tippy toes to get away from the invading object, he whimpered as he tried desperately to remove the finger, but then the man’s other hand was placed on his cheek slowly rubbing the now blushed flesh. “Shhhhh…” the man said as Frank was starting to get louder. The teen wanted to scream, but something in him made him stay quiet. The thoughts rolling in, he was ready for the pain to start. But then he felt a kiss on his shoulder blade. It was soft, and ghostly and different to how the man’s finger was playing with him, only entering the tip before letting it slip out.“ I’m going to take good care of you” the stranger said as he continued to kiss all over Frank’s upper back. Frank let out a whimper before the finger slowly pushed itself more in him, he let out a gasp as his hole tightened around the new foreign object. But the mysterious man just kissed upward on the teen's body, latching on when he came upon Frank’s throat.  Frank whimpered as the sensation from his neck competed with the sensation from his ass, the man smirked, however, when he started to pull the finger out. Frank’s body reacted without thought following the digit, the man let out a laugh that sent chills down Frank’s body. The man smiled as he let the teen have what he wanted, forcing the finger to go back in past the second knuckle. Frank’s head fell back by itself, his hole tightening, “good boy” the man said as he watched over Frank's body. He slowly started to move, making Frank’s body twist and curl, now seems to have stopped resisting the other’s advances.  When it seemed that Frank’s hole was getting used to the feel of a finger, the man slowly pushed a second in, Frank gasped out loud. His mind went a mile per minute with all the stimulus he was feeling. He didn’t say anything nor do anything when the man moved to pull his own pants down. Frank, however, did hiss when the two fingers started to move up and down, scissoring him slightly, the slight burn causing him too well up. But once again his mind was taken over when the man leaned forwards and spoke into his ear “ you're so beautiful”  then went back to bite and suck at the teen’s neck and shoulder. Frank whimpered as his cock, at half-mast, twitched from the compliment. He didn’t know what was happening, he wanted to run and hide but as soon as the third finger pushed its way in, and found their way to his prostate. Frank could only groan, and when he felt the man sped up his fingers Frank leaned back against him moaning even louder, it also didn’t help Frank that his dick was pinned to the cold ceramic sink. The smooth feeling on his cock, made frank bite his lower lip. The mysterious man huffed out himself as he pulled out his fingers, Frank whimpering at the loss wiggled his hips, his mind lost at that point. The motion resulted in Frank getting his ass cheek slapped, the sound echoing in the small room, and Frank could only let out a loud grunt. Frank, only by a small amount of time, sobered after the sting on his ass radiated to the rest of his body. He once again tried to twist and turn “ dude please let me-” Frank begged but the man was already lined up with frank’s hole, only the sound of spit did hit the teen. But he could only turn around before he felt the other push into him. His mouth opened to make an O as he felt his ass open forcefully, “d-dude your g-going to sp-split me” but the man didn’t hear him, too worried about feeling the warmth and wetness of the teen under him. As time went on, frank could only huff and pant as he got used to the feeling of being filled. Wiggling his ass on the other’s dick, the man huffing grabbed the teen’s hips, he pulled out only to slam back, Frank let out an almost scream. But his mouth was covered by the man’s hand, and with that, he started to thrust hard and fast. The sudden action and the sudden feeling made Frank's eyes roll in the back of his head. The man wasn’t average at all, he was bigger than him and Frank was losing his mind over it.  He whimpered against the man’s hand,  the thick member slid in and out of him and to make the matters worse. The man reaches over, his rough large hands slide across his body. Only to stop at his nipples, hard and sensitive he couldn’t help to cry out when he felt the man roll one of his nipples in between his fingers. His thrust slowed down and became more powerful only for a second before he sped up. The teen sobbed as his prostate got tortured, he could feel his cock hit him in the stomach as it was left neglected. It was only when the man forced Frank into arching his back while he grabbed his hips that Frank could feel what was happening. He could feel the gushing of warmth inside of him. The man pulled out and Frank could feel his ass empty onto the floor, Frank’s breath was heavy and shaky. His legs felt like they were going to give out, But the man wasn’t over, he turned Frank around and while looking up. The man stared at the teen as he eagerly consumed Frank's unsatisfied cock. Frank, spent and overstimulated, gasped at the warm and without say and a few flicks of the head. Frank was coming in the man’s mouth who was happy to devour the teen’s spunk. When the stranger pulled away from the younger man, the stranger quickly pulled up his pants. Pulling something out of his pocket, and handed it to Frank. Who was holding the sink for leverage, “thanks for the night doll, call me when you want to go again” The teen shaking, grabbed it. “ Evan MacMillan, CFO of MacMillan co.” By the time Frank looked up from the business card, he was alone inside the restroom. Except he wasn’t alone, his mind kept him company, and it was fighting with him heavily. He didn’t know what to think of what just happened? Was he raped? But it felt good? Why did he feel so warm when the man complimented him? Why did he compliment him? And why wasn’t it different than when HE did it? By the time Debra came looking for Frank, he had cried hard. He had screamed and punched the wall till his fist was bloodied. Even smashing the mirror, and by the time Debra knocked on the restroom door, he had cleaned himself up and was staring at the broken mirror. He left the restroom, shoving Debra out of his way as he headed towards the exit. Debra followed “ babe, what’s wrong?” She asked, "leave me alone cunt” the girl was taken back. She grabbed his arm “excuse me?”, he yanked his arm back and spat with such anger  “I said leave me the damn alone you cunt munching whore!” it was loud enough to make some of the party-goers turn to look. But Frank didn’t give a damn, and with a grunt left the girl in the club. The business card is still on the bathroom floor.

[cassatine]

TROS rambles under cut. Spoilers ahead.

There’s a lot I didn’t particularly like in TROS, but I expected that, so I’m mostly disappointed by the execution. It feels extremely messy, stuffed full of things supposed to please the audience but without that much thought given to the overall effect or the underlying message.

It’s small things like a cute new droid whose function in the narrative is to deliver one hint for the high-stakes treasure hunt, and also be cute and sell merch. At least the droid has a function; I’m still wondering why the giant slug on the Falcon at the beginning of the movie. Isn’t the cast big enough. Aren’t there enough new characters as is. Did we need the slug. I’m aware it sounds like nitpicking, it’s just that I feel it’s representative of the film making unnecessary detours for cool factor while moving at breakneck speed, which makes the whole story suffer.

But there’s other, bigger things. Leia’s training, her having a saber, even if she put it down – it was such a big deal that Luke was the Last Jedi, the only one who could train Rey, and although we’ve seen Leia use the Force, there was absolutely nothing in the previous two movies to let us think she’d trained under Luke. I feel the main reason Leia has a saber is simply the need to replace the one yeeted by Ben so that he’d have a weapon in the final fight, and having another family saber handed to Rey was yet another way to confirm Rey as the chosen heir of the Jedi and the Skywalkers, something TROS really tried to hammer in imo; Leia’s saber and training, the pep talk with Force Ghost Luke (who doesn’t have anything to say to his nephew), everything about how the Jedi live in her in the final fight, plus the voices of Anakin, Obi-Wan, etc (who, like Luke, don’t have anything to say to Kylo/Ben), and the Force Ghosts of Luke and Leia appearing to her at the end. They didn’t do that when their nephew and son died. I don’t really mind that Rey takes the Skywalker name, because I’m not big on the blood lineage fixation to start with, and the film doesn’t make her reasons explicit so I can find a way to make it work for me, but it’s the culmination of the pattern framing her as the one heir.

Even her ending up in Luke’s childhood home fits within it, but I have other issues with her ending up alone on Tatooine; mainly what the fuck am I supposed to do with it? Like if there was something about how she was, idk, starting a Jedi school AT LEAST that’d make sense for the story I think Abrams is trying to tell because right now… how are the Jedi not going to end if she’s basically in exile?? Wasn’t it such a big deal to see the Jedi continue? How did we end up pretty much back to square one, with the last of the Jedi self-exiled on an out-of-the-way planet for not-so-clear reasons? For that matter, how is Rey choosing exile in the grand tradition of Jedi who failed – Obi-Wan, Yoda, and later Luke – supposed to be read? We’re given no insight in what goes on in her head after Exegol; her reaction to Ben’s death I’m 100% certain is meant to be heartbreaking, and it’s filmed that way. But after that she’s just… it’s not clear *what* she is, because there’s some happiness on her part, yes, but it’s part of the over-the-top ROTJ-like happiness expressed by all the Resistance peeps at the end, like they’re all so glad the Empire, First and Final Order are gone that they’re high on it. But as far as characterization goes it’s hard to say whether Rey’s going through the motions, if she’s sad but content that at least Ben turned or smthg, or if she’s totally fine and dandy. There’s nothing about why she choses to go to Tatooine, why she chooses to use the Skywalker name, why she buries the sabers, or how the fuck she feels about anything. I don’t think everything in an ending needs to be made explicit and explained in details, but it all kinda feels like a cop-out.

Speaking of cop-outs, I could mention The Pit, but also... I know a lot of people wanted Finn to have the Force; I’ve always been on the fence, because I feared his having the Force would end up being the reason he defected, and I didn’t want that decision to boil down to the magic force field told him so. Well, he had A Feeling, which implies he’s Force sensitive at least? Him and a whole other bunch of ex-troopers? I don’t know what to make of this. I mean, sure, the FO indoctrinates kids, but apparently once the Force gives them A Feeling they just break out of it? But also, how much does the Force meddles in events, because it kind of feels like those Feelings are moving people to where they need to be for Plot to happen (Leia’s saber premonition doesn’t really help the thus it was written vibe).  

Neither Finn nor Poe had any personal arc to speak of; they don’t grow or learn or do shit beyond being Rey’s sidekicks on her speedrun to the big boss (literally it’s a treasure hunt to open the final dungeon and beat the big boss; that’s it that the plot). They do Cool Action Stuff, and once Leia dies become Generals in her stead, which has about zero impact on anything. Poe’s revealed to be a spice smuggler because I guess a real Star Wars trio™ needs an ex-spice smuggler, just like a real Star WarsTM needs training scenes and a family reveal and a planet-destroying weapon (not spherical this time woohoo) and some Palpatine sprinkled on top. The trio’s interactions were… Idk what’s going on there. Sure there’s lots of banter and one-liners, but it left me with the impression that the film tried to have something for every ship (minus, very glaringly, Finnrose) – Finn seems to be trying to declare something to Rey, which seems to piss off Poe, but it’s hard to say if it’s because Poe’s into Rey as well, or into Finn, who also seems to be into Poe, but less than into Rey. And then there’s almost no interaction between Finn and Rose, who’s side-lined for the whole fucking movie, but there’s Jannah, who has either shippy or sibling vibes with Finn, I have no idea honestly, and Zorii, because I guess every ex-spice smuggler needs a Leia analogue.

Speaking of Leia, I have more to be displeased about – her death was fucking underwhelming, and not given much impact. Having Kylo/Ben haunted by Han (Ghost? Memory? Hallucination?), while not something I dislike in itself – Han had his big moment in TFA, and here he completely overshadows Leia’s. She doesn’t even get to have actual dialogue with Kylo/Ben, and the yeeting his saber should have happened after Leia reached him imo; switching that would have given a lot more impact to her death. The dialogue with Han doesn’t even need to change, but if Leia had contacted Kylo/Ben after the “I know what I have to do” repeat, it’d have been a more effective scene (and again, Han already had his big moment in TFA). The aftermath wasn’t particularly well-done either; characters are sad she died, of course, but it’s like perfunctory five minutes sadness and then she’s barely mentioned again, and her body just lies there in the background of some scenes while people talk.

I’m running out of steam, so in conclusion –

TROS I think mostly fails because it takes no risks; it’s trying to have something in it for everyone, and goes about it messily, without that much care for the big picture, which is how it ends pretending to have a happy end when we’ve just seen the final act of three generations of Skywalker tragedy. It doesn’t commit to anything, excepted leaving room for fun trio adventures sequels, because if there’s one thing we know, it’s that self-exiled Jedi are always found by some bright-eyed tentative student, if not a call for help from old friends.

[italian-sides]

“Ombre e Bastoni”, ch. 2

Here I am with the second chapter! Again, a huge thank you to both @misslilidelaney on Tumblr for writing this and @watcher-from-the-heights for being my beta! I also tag @ts-italian-gang, just in case. One last thing: if you want to support the ff, it’s on AO3 too! Thank you if you’re gonna step by! Enjoy!

Whenever Emilio Picani walked into the Dolce&Remì, all heads turned.

And when all heads turned, Giuda Schiavon's only instinct was to turn away.

To avoid imploding.

At the exact moment the young man crossed the threshold, Giuda understood that he was Patrizio's famous "psychologist cousin".

And at the exact moment he saw his face, only one sentence echoed in his brain:

- Sò ciavà. - [1]

The newcomer sat down at the counter, while Remo looked illuminated with immense light and Romolo seemed to be having a heart attack.

"Patrì. Are you kidding? You should at least have said that your cousin was so beautiful!"

"What are you saying, Romolo? C'mon, you're embarrassing him!"

"Orco can, Pati [2], take it easy! Trust me, it takes much more to embarrass me.", the interested party replied, giving Romolo, who just laughed like a twelve year old, a benevolent smile.

- Nice, exactly what I needed, even the competition with the Stellina. -

Giuda glanced at Remo, who had been wiping the same glass for three minutes.

-Ah, well. Both the Stelline. [3] -

He just looked at the newcomer from behind the counter, through the mirror in front of which the liquors were placed.

Of course both twins already came out swinging, while Virgilio and Luca simply looked at him with the gaze of two hungry lions.

And obviously Patrizio noticed the looks that the Trentine guy - that is Luca - launched at his blood relative, and Giuda shook his head after seeing the Emilian's eyes getting a little bleary.

-If I end up like this too, I'll set myself on fire.-

"You're quiet, Giudino [4].", Tommaso, the only one who seemed immune to the charm of the newcomer, chirped.

Giuda merely smiled slyly, pointing to the group behind him with a nod:

"I'm enjoying the vultures."

"Pffftt, they're terribleee!", the pastry chef whispered, biting his lip from laughing, which made Giuda smile even further and then continue:

"They look like they haven't seen a man for ages, eh? And Patrizio has the face of someone who repented 'a sbrega'."

"At what?"

"Someone who regretted it very much. I’ll have to teach you Venetian sooner or later, boss."

Tommaso nodded, and Giuda decided to get defensive even before anyone could attack him.

"Plus, like... He's not even that  cool. He's pretty, don't get me wrong, but c'mon, to the point of making all four of them lose their heads?"

Tommaso nodded, shrugging:

"Agreed. And I hope Luca will soon get over this thing before Patrizio goes on a killing spree."

"Patrizio should also get a move on, however; Luca is too much of a wimp to realize he's drooling like a slug. If he doesn't get moving, someone else will take him and I’d like to remind you that the last time Patrizio got drunk, he got a sad hangover."

"Don't remind me, please."

"Ao, regà!" [5], Remo sneaked in and took them both by the arm, smiling like the idiot he was.

"Come and meet the newcomer!"

- Oh, no, please. -

"Boss, at least let me take off my dishwashing gloves!"

"No no, you have to keep them, I want him to understand who's in charge!", the 'older' brother of the Stella twins laughed at the request of his dishwasher.

- Curses.-

With a movement worthy of the worst drunks in Caracas, he brought Tommaso and Giuda in front of the newcomer, who had a smile capable of melting Giuda's heart in an instant.

And it did.

"Emilio, here's my co-partner and pastry-chef Tommaso Sandero, and my all-rounder, dishwasher, whatever-you-want, Giuda."

"I have a surname too, you know, old man.", with an eyeroll worthy of a Hollywood star, Giuda turned to Emilio.

Shit, he was even more beautiful, up close.

"Giuda Schiavon. I would shake your hand but I have gloves on."

"Schiavon?", Emilio asked, lighting up.

How beautiful a human being could be? Was he even legal?

"Ahah, his name is Schiavon. Which is perfect, since he's ours... [6]", Remo started, but Emilio dreamily clasped his hands in front of his face and asked, interrupting him:

"Are you from Veneto too? I'm from Verona!"

Giuda just shrugged, nodding immediately after:

"Par tera, par mar, Sammarco. [7]"

"Can del porco, un Venexian! Beaaa! [8]"

Having said that, Emilio approached him, pretending to speak in great secrecy - which was impossible, since everyone was still staring at him as if he was a wonderful thing, except perhaps Romolo, who was just looking at Giuda as if he was the worst thing that ever happened in this world:

"Cossa go da far pa aver na bona ombra de vin qua? [9]"

Was he trying to speak Venetian?

Was there a limit to how cute he could be?

"Ask Remo. I only wash the glasses, I don't fill them."

Having said that, he turned to the owner, making a superhuman effort to take his eyes off Emilio, who seemed quite dazzled by the answer.

"Can I go back? I have to go to the kitchen to finish washing the dishes before other people arrive for happy hour."

Then he turned back to Emilio, waving at him with half a smile:

"Fellow countryman, enjoy your stay in Bologna."

And then he left, without giving him time to answer.

*

Three years passed since their first meeting.

Three years in which Romolo made the funniest epic fail with Emilio, in which Patrizio decided to stick his tongue down Luca's mouth, and Virgilio pretended to be drunk to touch Romolo's ass, whom he said he'd forgotten, but Giuda knew that was bullshit.

Because he, being a chronic liar, could basically smell the lies.

In fact, not even for a second did he let anyone remotely suspect of his mind-blowing crush on the psychologist, especially the above mentioned, given that he was probably now convinced he hated his guts.

Which was the intention of the Venetian, since he took for granted that the thirty-year-old was far beyond what someone like him could afford.

After the disastrous relationship with one of his university buddies, Giuda indeed decided that being single was far better than being heartbroken.

Even though his heart wasn't too good.

Treating Emilio badly was making him lose sleep, at times he risked forgetting to put on his contact lenses due to tiredness, and even Virgilio took the piss out of him for the bags under his eyes.

And now he was there. Gloves in one hand and a broom in the other.

With Remo looking at him with a Cheshire Cat's smile on his face.

"You little snake. I get it, you know? You like the Veronese."

"You're speaking nonsense. I’d rather kill him right now. I dropped the glasses because of him."

"Don’t fuck with me. Tommy and I yell at you all the time and you’ve never jumped like this. Yo, Coso [10], I can smell lies too, you're not the only one. You’re being a little shit because you like him."

Giuda kept looking the bar owner in the eye, trying to deny it with all of his body language.

"I. Don't. Like. Emilio. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but Mr. Psychoanalysis isn’t exactly my cup of tea, okay?"

"Giuda..."

There was something in Remo’s voice, something that for a moment opened a breach in the Venetian's heart.

Maybe... Maybe he could trust someone.

"...From the first day he walked in here. You all got over it. But me? Never. I don’t have a crush on Emilio, Remo. I’m in love with Emilio. But I’ve suffered enough in the past to know that I’m better off alone. What if it goes wrong? How am I gonna look at him? How...?"

"You don't know that. I mean, I don't know either even if I live with him, how can you, if you run away every time you see him?"

"I personally believe that what you don’t know can’t hurt you."

"If Luca were here he would scream 'Boiate' [11]. Giuda... I..."

"Welp. It's too late now, the damage is done, right? He’s probably convinced I hate him even more after today's crap."

With a bitter laugh, Giuda surpassed the roman, continuing:

"I blew every chance, amen..."

"Giuda."

"But surely he won’t stop coming, we’re his favorite bar and you’re his roommate..."

"Giuda, shut up."

"I'm sure he'll find someone else pretty quickly, he just needs to breathe and someone always comes along."

"Giuda!"

The dishwasher turned again towards Remo, biting his lip as the stupid tears began to stream down his face.

"I can’t do this, okay? After Mattia, I don’t know what to do, with a man. Besides, I’m kind of a mess. Emilio will never appreciate someone like me."

Remo remained silent for a moment, before moving forward... and hugging? Giuda.

The Venetian was baffled, usually it was Tommaso, the one with whom he sometimes allowed himself affectionate gestures.

"Shut your mouth, you’re not that bad. And I swear on Totti [12], I’ll help you get the therapist, whether you want it or not."

Giuda laughed bitterly, his face stuck in the chest of his tallest peer.

"Yeah, sure. And how are you gonna do that?"

Remo let him go and asked, very seriously:

"Do you know how to play briscola [13]?"

[1]: transl. "I'm fucked" [2]: "Holy crap" + Pati = a nickname for Patrizio [3]: this is a pun with Romolo and Remo's surname, "Stella" = "Star", that here is referred as "Stellina/Stelline" = "Little Star/Little Stars" [4]: a nickname for Giuda, a diminutive of his name [5]: a Romanesco dialect exclamation that means more or less "Hey, guys!" [6]: it's a pun with Giuda's surname, Schiavon, that in italian, without the "n" at the end, is "Schiavo" = "Slave" [7]: it's a Venetian saying that literally means "on land, on sea, San Marco", but more broadly it means the power of the Venice Republic that reigned both on the land and on the sea [8]: "Good heavens, a Venetian! Niiice!" [9]: "What can I do to have a good glass of wine around here?"; in Venetian dialect, "ombra" means both "shadow" and "glass of wine" [10]: "coso" is the italian version of "thingy" and/or "dude/dingus" [11]: yes, "boiate" is the italian term for "falsehood", in this case [12]: a famous Italian soccer player, specifically from Rome [13]: a very popular Italian card game

1 - 2 - ?

see ya next time, ciao!

Quando Emilio Picani entrava al Dolce&Remì, tutte le teste si giravano. E quando tutte le teste si giravano, l'unico istinto di Giuda Schiavon era di girarsi dalla parte opposta. 

Per evitare di implodere.

Nel momento esatto in cui il giovane aveva oltrepassato la soglia, Giuda aveva capito che era lui il famoso "cugino psicologo" di Patrizio. 

E nel momento esatto in cui aveva visto il suo volto, solo una frase gli aveva rimbombato nel cervello:

- Sò ciavà.-

Il nuovo arrivato si era seduto al bancone, Remo che sembrava illuminato d'immenso, e Romolo che sembrava stesse per avere un infarto.

"Patrì. Ma stiamo a scherzare? Ce lo dovevi minimo minimo dire che tuo cugino era così bello!"

"Ma cosa stai dicendo, Romolo? Mo' dai guarda, che lo metti in imbarazzo!”

"Orco can Pati, stai calmo! Guarda che ci vuole molto di più per imbarazzarmi." aveva risposto il diretto interessato, scoccando un sorriso benevolo a Romolo, che si era limitato a ridere come una dodicenne.

- Ben ciò, perché mi mancava la competizione con la Stellina.- 

Giuda aveva lanciato uno sguardo a Remo, che stava strofinando lo stesso bicchiere da tre minuti. 

-Ah beo. Entrambe, le Stelline.-

E si era limitato a guardare il nuovo arrivato da dietro il bancone, attraverso lo specchio davanti al quale erano sistemati gli alcolici. 

Ovviamente entrambi i gemelli erano già partiti all'attacco, e Virgilio e Luca si limitavano a guardarlo con lo sguardo di due leoni affamati. 

Ovviamente, Patrizio si era accorto degli sguardi che il trentino lanciava al proprio consanguineo, e Giuda aveva scosso la testa vedendo i suoi occhi velarsi un po’.

- Se finisco anche io così mi do fuoco.-

"Sei silenzioso, Giudino." Aveva cinguettato Tommaso, l'unico a sembrare immune al fascino del nuovo arrivato. 

Giuda si era limitato a sorridere sornione, indicando il gruppetto alle sue spalle con un cenno del capo.

"Mi sto godendo gli avvoltoi."

"PFFFF sono tremendiii!" Aveva sussurrato il pasticciere mordendosi il labbro dal ridere, cosa che aveva fatto sorridere ulteriormente Giuda che quindi aveva continuato:

"Sembra non vedano un uomo da millenni eh. Veramente. E Patrizio ha la faccia di uno che si è pentito a sbrega."

"A cosa?

"Pentito molto. Devo insegnarti il veneziano prima o poi, Boss." 

Tommaso aveva annuito, e Giuda aveva deciso di mettersi sulla difensiva ancora prima che qualcuno potesse partire all'attacco.

"Che poi... Neanche fosse così figo. Bellino eh. Ma insomma, da far andare fuori di testa tutti e quattro?"

Tommaso aveva annuito, facendo spallucce. 

"Ti do ragione. E spero che a Luca questa cosa passi presto prima che Patrizio faccia una strage."

"Patrizio dovrebbe anche darsi una mossa però eh, Luca è troppo impedito per accorgersi di quanto stia sbavando come una lumaca. Se non si muove finisce che se lo prende qualcun altro e ti ricordo che l'ultima volta è andato di sbronza triste."

"Non ricordamelo, ti prego..."

"Ao, regà!" Remo era arrivato di soppiatto e li aveva presi entrambi sottobraccio, sorridendo come lo scemo che era.

"Venite a conoscere il nuovo arrivato!"

- Oh, no, ti prego.- 

"Capo fammi almeno togliere i guanti da piatti!"

"No no, li devi tenè, voglio che capisca chi comanda!" Aveva riso il maggiore dei gemelli Stella alla richiesta del suo lavapiatti. 

Maledetto.

Con un movimento degno dei peggiori ubriachi di Caracas, aveva portato Tommaso e Giuda al cospetto del nuovo arrivato, che aveva addosso un sorriso capace di sciogliere il cuore di Giuda in un istante.

E lo aveva fatto.

"Emilio, ecco il mio socio e pasticcere Tommaso Sandero, e il mio lavapiatti tuttofare quello-che-vuoi, Giuda."

"Ho un cognome anche io sai, vecchio." con un eyerolling degno di una star holliwoodiana, Giuda si era voltato verso Emilio. 

Merda, era ancora più bello, da vicino.

"Giuda Schiavon. Ti darei la mano ma ho i guanti."

"Schiavon?" Aveva chiesto Emilio illuminandosi. 

Ma quanto poteva essere bello un essere umano? Ma era legale?

"Ahah, si chiama Schiavon. Il che è perfetto visto che è il nostro..." Aveva iniziato Remo, ma Emilio aveva stretto le mani davanti al viso con aria sognante ed aveva chiesto, interrompendolo:

"Ma sei veneto anche tu? Io sono di Verona!"

Giuda si era limitato a fare spallucce, annuendo subito dopo.

"Par tera, par mar, Sammarco."

"Can del porco un Venexian! Beaaa!" 

Detto questo, si era avvicinato facendo finta di parlare in gran segreto - cosa impossibile visto che tutti lo stavano ancora fissando come se fosse una cosa meravigliosa, tranne forse Romolo che stava guardando proprio Giuda come se fosse la peggiore delle cose mai capitate a questo mondo:

"Cossa go da far pa aver na bona ombra de vin qua?" 

Stava cercando di parlare in veneziano? 

Ma c'era un limite a quanto potesse essere carino?

"Domandarghe a Remo. Io lavo i bicchieri, non li riempio mica." 

Detto questo si era girato verso il titolare, compiendo uno sforzo sovrumano per distogliere lo sguardo da Emilio, che sembrava parecchio abbacchiato dalla risposta.

"Posso tornare di là? Devo andare in cucina a finire i piatti prima che arrivi altra gente per l'happy hour." 

Si era quindi girato di nuovo verso Emilio, facendogli un cenno di saluto con un mezzo sorriso.

"Conterraneo, buona permanenza a Bologna."

E se n'era andato, senza lasciargli il tempo di rispondere.

*

Erano passati tre anni, da quel loro primo incontro. 

Tre anni nei quali Romolo aveva fatto il più divertente degli epic fail con Emilio, nei quali Patrizio si era deciso a ficcare la lingua in bocca a Luca, e Virgilio aveva fatto finta di essere ubriaco per toccare il culo di Romolo, che diceva di aver dimenticato, ma Giuda sapeva essere una balla. 

Perché lui, le balle, le subodorava, essendo un bugiardo cronico.

Infatti, nemmeno per un secondo aveva lasciato che qualcuno sospettasse minimamente della sua cotta allucinante per lo psicologo, specialmente il suddetto, visto che si era probabilmente ormai convinto di stargli sullo stomaco.  

Il che era l'intento del veneziano, visto che dava per scontato che il trentenne fosse ben oltre quello che uno come lui potesse permettersi. 

Dopo la disastrosa relazione col suo compagno di facoltà, Giuda aveva infatti deciso che single era decisamente meglio che col cuore a pezzi. 

Anche se il suo cuore non stava troppo bene. 

Trattare male Emilio gli stava facendo ormai perdere il sonno, a volte rischiava di dimenticare le lenti dalla stanchezza, e persino Virgilio lo prendeva per il culo per le occhiaie.

Ed ora era lì. I guanti in una mano ed una scopa nell'altra.

Con Remo che lo guardava con il sorriso dello Stregatto dipinto in faccia.

"A serpentino. L'ho capito eh. Te piace er veronese."

"Tu stai vaneggiando. Ora come ora lo ammazzerei. Ho fatto volare i bicchieri per colpa sua."

"Nun me piglià per il culo. Io e Tommy ti gridiamo contro in continuazione e non hai mai saltato così. Senti Coso, pure io le subodoro le stronzate, non sei mica l'unico. Fai il merda perché ti piace."

Giuda continuava a guardare il titolare negli occhi, cercando di negare con tutto il linguaggio del corpo.

"Non. Mi. Piace. Emilio. Non so cosa ti sei messo in testa, ma Mister Psicanalisi non è esattamente di mio gradimento okay?"

"Giuda..."

C'era qualcosa nel tono di Remo, qualcosa che per un attimo, aveva aperto una breccia nel cuore del veneziano. 

Forse... Forse poteva fidarsi, di qualcuno.

"...Dal primo giorno in cui è entrato qui dentro. A voi tutti è passata. Ma a me mai. Non ho una cotta per Emilio, Remo. Io sono innamorato, di Emilio. Ma ho sofferto abbastanza in passato da sapere che sto meglio da solo. E se poi va male? Con che faccia lo guardo? Come..."

"Non puoi saperlo. Voglio dire, non posso saperlo io che ci vivo assieme, come puoi farlo tu se scappi ogni volta che lo vedi?"

"Sono del parere che ciò che non sai non può farti del male."

"Fosse qua Luca urlerebbe 'Boiate'. Giuda... io..."

"Beh. Ormai il danno è fatto, no? Si sarà convinto che lo odio dopo la stronzata di oggi." 

Con una risata amara, Giuda aveva superato il romano, continuando: 

"Mi sono bruciato ogni possibilità, amen..."

"Giuda."

"... Però di sicuro mica smette di venire, siamo il suo bar preferito e tu sei il suo coinquilino..."

"Giuda piantala."

"Di sicuro troverà subito qualcuno, gli basta respirare e arriva sempre qualcuno..."

"Giuda!"

Il lavapiatti si era girato di nuovo verso Remo, mordendosi il labbro mentre le stupidissime lacrime iniziavano a scendere.

"Io non ce la posso fare okay? Dopo Mattia non so più come comportarmi, con un uomo. E poi sono un casino. Emilio non potrà mai apprezzare uno come me."

Remo era rimasto in silenzio per un attimo, prima di avanzare ed... abbracciare? Giuda. 

Il veneziano era basito, di solito era Tommaso, quello con cui a volte si permetteva gesti affettuosi.

"Ti devi de sta zitto. Non fai così schifo. E te lo giuro su Totti, io ti aiuterò a prenderti lo psicologo, che tu lo voglia o no." 

Giuda aveva riso amaramente, la faccia ficcata nel petto dell'altissimo coetaneo.

"Seh, vabbè. E come credi di fare?"

Remo lo aveva lasciato andare ed aveva sentenziato, serissimo.

"Sai giocare a briscola?"

[agentsandbutterflies]

Merlahad, as slytherin merlin and gryffindor harry rivals AU

This went very dark, very fast when I started to think about it (so be warned, there is character death in this one) but then it turned out it took forever to get there… I apologise for the delay.

I think this is the longest one I’ve done…

Harry is in the year above the Marauders

Merlin is in the same year as them and shares dormitory with Severus Snape

(Merlin pretty much hates his parents for naming him Merlin, because really? REALLY?)

They are both Pure-blood

The First Wizarding War starts Harry’s first year at Hogwarts

But he’s a First Year at Hogwarts and doesn’t notice a thing

Merlin is a kid in a Pure-blood family, he doesn’t notice anything either

Harry’s parents join the Order of the Phoenix in 1971

Merlin’s parents stay away from all of it

The older students start to talk and more and more Muggle borns and Half-bloods are getting worried about the state of the world

Harry tries out for the Gryffindor quidditch team but doesn’t get a spot

Merlin falls in love with charms during his first class

The first time they meet is in the Slug Club when Merlin is invited during his fourth year

Harry has been a member for about a year at that point

(Merlin is annoyed that Severus is there as well)

(Harry doesn’t know Lily Evans exists before she comes to her first Slug Club dinner)

(She knows he exists, though. All the girls in the Gryffindor tower know he exists)

Merlin’s not impressed by Harry’s habit of drawing attention to himself by always arriving late

Harry thinks Merlin’s a know-it-all

But they are Gryffindor and Slytherin, they are supposed to dislike each other. They have never questioned why, it’s just how it is and it makes life a bit more interesting to have an entire House to hate

The exception is of course Severus and Lily, but he’s weird and she’s too kind so, yeah…

Harry and Merlin sometimes exchange looks and roll their eyes at them, because at least they can agree that that friendship is odd

The war has been going on for five years when Merlin joins the Slug Club and it starts to creep into Hogwarts as well

Almost everyone worries, even the ones who pretend they don’t

Harry’s parents write less and less

Merlin’s parents write as if there is nothing wrong with the world

Slughorn invites them all to dinner and they talk about literature the entire evening as if people aren’t disappearing outside the walls

Yet lines are drawn, children picking the side their parents are on or breaking with their families

Hogwarts can’t save you from that

If the rivalry between the four Houses was all fun and games before it’s now part of the warfare – or so the students think

Three Houses against one and no one sees or cares about the second year Slytherin student who hasn’t heard from their parents in weeks

Or the fourth year who is too afraid of their classmates to speak their mind

Or the sixth year student whose sister is killed

Because it’s their own fault for wearing green and silver anyway…

Merlin’s grades are perfect and he becomes a prefect in his fifth year

He takes it upon himself to take points off Gryffindor whenever Harry is late for Slug Club

It’s seen as another Slytherin provocation and Harry challenges Merlin to a duel

It loses both of them enough points for them to eat alone at their respective tables for weeks

…but not enough for them to learn a lesson

The third time they are caught duelling they get detention

The fourth, the fifth and the sixth time too

The seventh time it’s Slughorn who catches them and he tells them that if they get caught again he will ban them from the Slug Club

If they get caught... there’s something encouraging in the way Slughorn says that

So the eighth time they meet in the Forbidden forest

The ninth time behind the quidditch field

The tenth in the Room of Requirements

It’s war practice under the guise of House rivalry

“I don’t think he’s right,” says Merlin one evening as they walk back from the lake, sweaty and exhausted. “Just so you know.”

“Me neither,” says Harry

When they are about to part, Harry to go up to the tower and Merlin down to the dungeon, Harry hesitates

“Can I write you over the summer?”  he asks

Merlin smiles. “Yes.”

“Who is she?” Harry’s mum asks when there have been owls coming and going almost daily for a month

“You should invite him to the house in Elie,” Merlin’s dad says. “Your mum and I aren’t going there until 10th of August.”

So Harry goes to Scotland a month before he’s supposed to go back to school

It takes four days on the beach and half a bottle of fire whisky (unknowingly given by Merlin’s dad) one evening for their hands to touch

It takes about two seconds more for their lips to touch

It takes two days for them to leave the house again

Harry’s mum notices some very indiscrete marks on Harry’s neck when he gets home after his little vacation

She gives him her concealer and asks him to cover it up before dad sees it on her way out to do recon for the Order

Harry does and he counts the days until he gets to board the Hogwarts’ Express for the last time

Merlin keeps knocking points off Gryffindor when Harry’s late for Slug Club

Harry keeps challenging him to duels

They keep meeting in strange and secret places

They don’t spend the time duelling

Harry is getting by with his N.E.W.T.

All the teachers think he can do better, and he can, but his head is already on the battlefield

Because first it was Muggle borns, then Half-bloods and certain Magical creatures, then Pure-bloods considered Blood Traitors…

Harry takes muggle studies and knows that the step to round up the Gender Traitors is a small one

That’s what will make him join the Order of the Phoenix when he leaves Hogwarts

(It may be self-serving, but he’s 18 and he chooses to fight. No one would have questioned his motives, had they known them)

Merlin asks him not to

Only once

Because he knows he can’t stop him, but he won’t be able to live with himself if he doesn’t at least ask

Harry goes to Elie for two weeks that summer

Merlin’s last year is a disaster

They have decided that Harry shouldn’t write him, because who knows what his House mates might happen to see

Harry writes Lily, though, the only other Gryffindor Merlin knows

(And quite frankly the only Gryffindor Harry knows who doesn’t judge a person after the colour of their House)

(He had confided in her about Merlin in the beginning of his seventh year because he needed someone to talk to and knew she wouldn’t judge him for the Slythering part of the equation)

Lily gives Merlin the updates at Slug Club and when they pass each other in the door in and out of Transfiguration

They become really good at exchanging folded pieces of paper without even looking at each other 

“Still nothing?” Merlin asks at the Slug Club’s yearly Christmas party

Lily shakes her head. “I can write and ask Marleneif you like?”

Merlin declines, reasoning that it’s easier to worry than to grieve

Two days before the end of the semester, Lily waits for Merlin outside the Great Hall, pressing a note in his hand

“It’s good news,” she says with a smile before she hurries to catch up with her friends

It turns out to only be good news in the sense that Harry isn’t dead

Harry’s mum is, though, and Harry has taken a curse in the face, losing the sight on his left eye

But he’s alive, and because of his injury out of harm’s way for a while

Perhaps that’s what counts as good news in wartime?

Harry is back in the field in January

He’s young, he’s fit, and his practice with Merlin has made him really good at flinging curses

Losing his mum only makes him more sure that he’s in the right place, doing the right thing

Revenge is added to his motives

Dumbledore asks him to help with recruitment of Hogwarts students

Harry has no moral qualms about dragging his old House mates to the front line to fight with him

Most of the Gryffindors he reaches out to respond

The only Slytherin he reaches out to does not

Or he does, but it’s a firm “no”

In spite of that, Merlin still moves into Harry’s tiny one room flat after he graduates because there’s no way he’s going to stay in Scotland when Harry is going around being an idiot all over England

They are not even twenty yet

Merlin gets a job – entry level at the Ministry of Magic

He has the ambition of his House, he has good grades and he’s a Pure-blood, it doesn’t take that long before he gets a proposition from the Death Eaters

He accepts on the spot and goes home to tell Harry

The fear Harry feels when he hears this is worse than anything he has experienced during his now almost two years in the Order

“It’s not the same as with Severus,” says Lily when Harry tells her. “It’s not like he’s really a Death Eater.”

Harry agrees – trying to be a double agent is a completely new level of stupid

The information Merlin manages to pass on to Harry is good, but not worth dying over

(Something Harry points out repeatedly)

It takes 171 days for the Death Eaters to figure it out

Or it probably takes less, but it takes 171 days for them to act

Harry opens the door to a flash of green light one evening

Merlin doesn’t even think to search for his wand as Mulciber, who Merlin had shared his dorm room with for seven years, steps over Harry’s body with his wand raised

“Always knew you were a poof,” says Mulciber, “though I never took you for a Blood Traitor.”

Merlin turns to look at Harry as the Killing Curse hits him in the chest

Harry’s dad is the one who finds them two days later

With the help of Merlin’s parents he makes sure they are buried together in Elie

[angstalottle]

Altea Cove

Keith of course knew the legends, everyone that grew up around these parts had them drilled into them from the day they were born.

He knew that this cove realistically was only warned against because of the coral and sharks that made even a small capsize a matter of life or death.

The warnings of mermaids that pulled sailors down to their deaths were just stories they told children so they didn't swim out into the dangerous waters.

Keith was too old to fear such things anymore and too hungry to not take the risk of the Altea cove.

It was summer when the big ships came.

Filled with men from the mainland that wanted their fish and trees.

In only a few months the once beautiful island had been decimated all to file a war of a people they never even heard of until they landed and claimed their resources their own.

Keith was the best fisherman on the island, but even he couldn't find fish in their waters anymore. They had either been caught or killed by the pollution of the visitors.

The island would starve if he didnt take action so Keith did what he had to do. Even if it did involve stealing a boat in the middle of the night to come to the cove.

The water was still beneath him as he dropped anchor and as many nets and traps that he had been able to bring.

It was too dark to makeout any fish beneath the waves but the occasional tug he would get on one of his nets would tell him something was down their and it was going for his bait.

It was all about instinct when a person decides to pull in their nets. Too soon and the catch would be pitiful and not worth the bait waisted. Too long and the net could over fill and even break losing the catch and a perfectly good net.

Keith never had either of those happen to him. It was like a 6th sense on when to pull on the rope. It was just a small shift in the way the ropes moved, or a ripple of the water that told him it was time.

He grabbed the rope of the closet net and began to pull.

It was surprisingly heavy, a grin spread across his face at the thought of coming home with enough food to feed everyone and save the island from starvation.

He could be a hero instead of the unwanted orphan that washed ashore all those years ago.

The strain caused him to close his eyes and grit his teeth all his concentration on pulling in his catch. It was so much heavier than any other catch before and for a moment Keith worried he had bitten off more than he could chew.

Then he heard the net rise from the water and quickly worked to secure the rope before turning to pull it abord.

He was greeted with the sight of blood dripping down into the water, a long blue tail half stuck out of the nets mesh and cut in multiple places from where the twine dug into the flesh. The tail was connected to a slender tanned torso and the face of a human that stared back at him in terror.

The two looked at each other in nothing short of shock. Neither knowing what to do but look the other up and down.

Keith had never believed the stories thinking it was just that, stories… yet here he was face to face with a mermaid.

Or rather a merman considering the flat chest but still that didn't stop Keith’s brain from questioning every fact he had ever believed to be absolute.

The merman suddenly began to thrash about pulling at the net and making the rigging groan from the stress.

In a moment of panic Keith did what he was sure he would later come to have Shiro berate him over. But rather then the smart idea of cutting the magical creature free and releasing him into the ocean while Keith made a hasty exit. Keith instead pulled the net over to the boats tank and dropped the merman in.

The tank was supposed to hold any pregnant rare fish you found so that they could be protected from being poached, so the tank was more than a little snug with the bloody tail trailing along the floor.

“Shit… shit” Keith swore running his hands through his hair.

Why did he just do that?!

What if it used its magic to turn him into a sea slug for this?!

As Keith began to panic the merman watched him. He slowly pulled himself up wincing at the moment of his tail until it was in the water and he was sat up leaning an arm over the edge of the tank.

“You know for a hunter you really suck at this.”

Keith spun to him so fast he nearly slipped on the wet decking “y-you can talk!”

“Of course i can talk i'm not a guppy.” he pouted flicking water at Keith “what this your first time here? Hate to break it to you but the rest of the pod moved on weeks ago so your not going to find anyone else”

“Wait hang on a second” Keith held up his hands “im not a hunter i'm a fisherman, i didn't mean to catch you, hell i didn't even know you were real.”

The merman cocked his head to the side “so let me get this straight… you come to the mermaid coast and didn’t want to catch a mermaid. Nice try buddy”

“No really! The fish are all gone and we were getting desperate for food so I came to try and find some here” Keith said quickly.

The merman’s expression turned sad “sorry but you won’t find any fish here either. The hunters in the big boats took them all and… and the others.”

Keith frowned in confusion “the others?”

He nodded “the other mers, their ruler thinks we have magic and wanted to use us to win his war but we can’t do anything like what he wants. So he started killing us and throwing our bodies into the water. I’m the only one left.

Keith stares in horror at the thought of a whole people being whipped out for nothing. “H-how come hey didn’t get you?”

He shrugged “I’m smaller than the others, I could hide between rocks but now I guess starving to death or being sold by you is my punishment.”

Keith felt a pang of guilt, his eyes trailing across the damage done to the tail “Is it true what the stories say about mers? That you can become human if you kiss one and live on land?”

He nodded “yeah but I don’t know what that ha-“

He was cut off my Keith pressing their lips together.

It was like a bolt of electricity went through them and a small moan escaped the merman’s mouth as his tail slowly became a pair of legs.

Keith blushed as he turned away listening as the water sloshed about.

Hangs grabbed onto his shoulder for support as he fell forwards into Keith’s arms.

“W-why did you do that?” He asked and Keith couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty of those blue eyes.

“Your hurt and it’s my fault. The least I could do is look after you until your healed up.” Keith shrugged as he placed a arm under his knees and carried him to a bench where he offered him his coat “I don’t have much but I can offer a warm bed and some company. Maybe even fish if I can find them. What do you say?”

“And what do you want in return?” He asked raising an eyebrow as he pulled the coat on.

“To know your name.”

The merman began to laugh long and hard, finally he replied with “Lance.”

No one was particularly happy with Keith bringing Lance back to the island.

He lied saying he found him floating on a piece of driftwood likely lost from a shipwreck. He was hurt and weak not remembering anything but his name.

People had been hesitant right until they got to talk to Lance when they fell in love with him.

He was so sweet and hoe stay kind that he made everyone want to be better.

Even with limited resources someone would always bring extra food round to Keith’s little shack just so the two would have something to eat.

It took a few weeks for Lance’s wound to heal. The moment it was he went back into the ocean and Keith thought he would never see him again.

He cried that night, realising he wouldn’t get to laugh or feel the way he did when he was around Lance ever again.

Then Lance came back the following morning, his hair dripping wet and nets filled with marlin.

“What’s the matter miss me?” He jokes after Keith tackled him to the ground in a hug.

“Shut up…” Keith mumbled smiling softly.

After that they got into a routine of Lance slipping out to the deeper waters the boats couldn’t get to during the night and returning the next morning with fish for everyone.

They spent their days pretending to fish in the cove where Keith found him, Lance usually relaxing in his true form and showing Keith around when he was brave enough in the water.

Keith had wanted to save the island by going to the cove that night… but he never imagined he would fall in love.

But he knew that he could never be happier then the day the two stood at the altar and said

“I do”

[quillium]

There is blood everywhere.

Peter inhales and tries to breathe.

In, one. Out, two. In, three. Out, four.

He presses his hands against Ben’s chest and they come away bloody.

This is—

It’s—

The sound of sirens, and flashing lights bright against the sidewalk.

A shock blanket over Peter’s shoulders. He wonders how long he’s been kneeling here by Ben’s cooling body.

Everything is bright red.

__

May sets roses on top of Ben’s coffin, before he’s buried. Their bright red petals are the only thing of colour in the muted graveyard.

Roses for love.

Ben was loved.

Ben loved Peter.

Ben died for loving Peter.

“It wasn’t your fault,” May murmurs to Peter, rubbing his arm while they watch the coffin lower into the ground.

He buries his face in her shoulder and tries to believe that’s true.

__

“How are we holding up, bud?” May’s smile is strained as she pushes a cup of tea into Peter’s hands.

On the kitchen counter half-hidden by the wall, he sees the cardboard package of rooibos tea packets still out, the cupboard half-open. He thinks that he should put it away later—it’s the least he can do. May’s been dealing with a lot and it’s been—hard. For both of them.

“Fine,” he says, taking a sip. He likes this tea, but it tastes like ash on his tongue, “How’re you?”

“Fine,” she says.

He hates that. Hate what she’s trying to pretend—what she’s trying to do.

What is he supposed to say? Do?

“I’m not okay,” he whispers, “And I need to know that I’m not alone in that. That I’m not—that I’m not crazy for sometimes thinking that he’s home when I hear the door or wondering why I didn’t bother learning his chocolate chip cookie recipe before—“ his breath hitches. He puts down the tea cup, before he drops it. Before it breaks.

Like everything else.

“Oh, baby,” May whispers.

“You feel it, too, right?” Peter asks. The gap. The empty spot. The way that even though they always complained it was cramped and too small, the apartment suddenly feels too big, like a gaping hole has been cut out into its walls.

He isn’t crazy.

(He feels like he is.)

“I feel it, too,” May says, and she’s crying into his hair and he’s crying into her shirt, “I feel it, too, baby.”

“That’s okay,” Peter says, wrapping his arms around her and closing his eyes and his voice cracks on the okay, “It’s okay. You can feel that way. You don’t have to pretend that’s not—you don’t have to pretend.”

“I’m sorry,” May says, her voice crumpled like a wet piece of paper.

“I’m sorry,” Peter whispers back, “You don’t have any reason to—“

“It wasn’t your fault,” she says, holding him tight, “It wasn’t.”

He closes his eyes and wonders how selfish he’s being, just wanting to stay in her arms. How selfish he’s being, ignoring the world for the comfort of May’s hug.

How selfish he’s being, hoping that he dies before she does.

Peter can’t stand to lose another person.

__

The day he goes back to school, Flash gives him a bouquet of red tulips at his locker before he leaves.

“I got them at lunch,” Flash says in an awkward, halting way that Peter has never heard him speak before, “I’m sorry that you—that you had to deal with that.”

“I thought you hated me,” Peter mumbles, wordlessly taking the flowers. Ned nods awkwardly at Flash, a greeting.

“God, Peter, your uncle just died. How much of a prick do you think I am?”

“No, I just—“ Peter stares at the flowers. For some reason, he didn’t think the grief would extend into school. He thought it would just—he doesn’t know—magically go away. He had thought it was weird, through his classes, how the world moved on when he couldn’t.

Now that it’s being acknowledged, he half wishes it hadn’t. That it had just been—

“Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Flash clears his throat, “If you need anything, just—“

“Right.”

“Right.”

They half-nod at each other, and then Flash waves, “See you, Leeds, Parker,” and walks away.

“Do you need me to—“ Ned asks, the sentence hanging awkwardly in the air.

“No, it’s okay,” Peter squeezes Ned’s hand, “This time—I think that I’m going to visit Ben’s grave alone. I’ll leave the flowers there.”

“Are you sure?”

Peter shrugs and tries to smile. He feels like he’s slugging through molasses, “Yeah. Better to—better to get it done and over with, yeah?”

“You don’t have to—you can wait—“

“I don’t want to drag it out any longer than I have to,” Peter interrupts, and immediately feels bad for doing so. “I just—thanks, Ned.”

“Yeah,” Ned says quietly, “No problem.”

Peter looks at the tulips. Bright red. They’re gorgeous.

There’s a pit in his stomach as he texts May, going to be home late, and takes the bus to the graveyard.

__

“I know that we didn’t really set up for Christmas, since we wanted to focus on the Jewish traditions,” May’s voice trembles as she speaks, “But I thought—I thought it would be nice to give you a gift.”

It’s kind of funny, how they followed all the Jewish traditions because those were usually done by Ben, and May would set up a giant tree and Ben would glare at it and mutter capitalism all grumbly under his breath and Peter would laugh at them both and—

They didn’t put up the tree this year. Peter doesn’t think either of them could have stood it—a peaceful Christmas, without Ben and May’s lighthearted bickering.

He unwraps a copy of The Handmaid’s Tale, the bright red silhouette on the cover stark against a black background.

“Thank you,” he says, a lump growing in his throat. Ben was usually the one who gave him books, while May would take him to movies. Ben would grumble about how kids these days were always in a rush and May would give him a sloppy kiss and say but we’re still kids, aren’t we? And he’d smile and they’d go to the movies and—

“I thought,” May looks away, “I thought maybe we could see Frozen 2 in theatres? You can bring some of your friends if just the two of us is—“ not enough.

If it’s too empty.

“No,” he says. He holds her hand, and whispers, “You’re enough.”

She cries because she doesn’t feel like enough, not when she used to be one half of a whole, one third of the family, and he cries because she is, she has to be, but he still misses Ben every second he’s awake.

“I love you,” she says into his hair and he puts the book down and holds her, because he’s scared that she’ll vanish the moment he lets go.

__

He picks red because it’s convenient. Because that’s just what he has, what he can afford.

He keeps it because it’s the colour of blood. Because he doesn’t want the people he fights to see him bleed, to see him so vulnerable—

Spider-man isn’t just red.

__

My AO3

[hillnerd]

Why do you think Ron and Hermione fell in love with each other?

I think there are a ton of different reasons. (stole a ton of this from debates I’ve had) THIS IS LOOOONG

1-They enjoy spending time with one another

From the moment they become friends (after the troll incident) they are joined at the hips. Harry goes off on his own a lot (what with Quidditch practice and games, detentions, not allowed to go to hogsmeade, private lessons, dates) and every time he comes back, there are Ron and Hermione still hanging out.

Ron gets on very well with Dean Seamus and Neville. If he didn’t like Hermione, why would he spend all his free time with her? Hermione has made it clear she’d rather have no friends at all than bad ones (otherwise she’d have hung out with SOMEONE when she was on the outs with the boys)- and yet she chooses to spend all her free time with Ron. So we have them choosing to spend their time with one another, whether Harry is there or not.

They are in sync and enjoy one another’s company

The two of them not only spend time with one another, but they see eye to eye on most things. They’re known for squabbling- but as far as actual disagreements go they don’t have that many in the series. The two are a great team who work as a unit to support Harry, Hagrid, defend others, defend each other, and as early as PS/SS even have funny naturally flowing back and forths.

Harry told the other two about Snape’s sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee.

“Don’t play,” said Hermione at once.

“Say you’re ill,” said Ron.

“Pretend to break your leg,” Hermione suggested.

“Really break your leg,” said Ron.

But they straight up enjoy the company of one another. They are seen laughing throughout the series, ‘having the time of their lives’ in Hogsmeade (just the two of them), hanging out in the library, happily hanging out in the common room.

 Ron makes Hermione smile/laugh more than anyone else

Ron is one of the only people in the series that can bring a smile to Hermione’s face- and it’s so important in any relationship, romantic or platonic, that you’re able to do that. Hermione is a rather serious character and rarely laughs. She barely laughs at the twins at all- but Ron? She laughs, smirks, smiles and finds real enjoyment from his wisecracks. He’s the only character able to get in there and help her have some real fun in the series.

2) They have the same values and admire one another 

Honesty, loyalty, fighting for what’s right, valuing the same sorts of people, enjoying spending their downtime (When there’s no ‘activity’) the same way, the commitment they each have to helping the ‘little guy’, valuing intellectual stimulation (not just academically, but through wit, analysis, and people watching), shared ideas of what’s important in life, and the ability to tease/take the mickey with one another. They are both down to earth people who value the simple things in life above everything else, and their loved ones mean more to them than anything.

They admire each other’s compassion

In the 7th book in particular we see how Ron’s compassion for the cattermoles makes her look like she might kiss him- and then his compassion for house elves is what makes her actually jump him and snog him right in the middle of a battle.

But the two of them admire one another’s good heart throughout the series. He thinks she the best person he knows (says it so as well). Ron is more frequent in verbally praising Hermione than the opposite- so we have a lot of examples of him praising her character.

Both have equal disdain for artifice, cowardly actions, hypocrisy, and cruelty- They also see eye to eye on just what constitutes each of those traits the majority of the time.

You see throughout the series that Ron admires (and does NOT ONCE SHOW JEALOUSY OF) Hermione’s abilities. He compliments her on them in every single book. Hermione is also pushing Ron to live up to his potential (Which she thinks is large- because- hint hint- IT IS) and gushes over how brilliant he is towards the end of book 7.

3) They enjoy mentally stimulating one another

In the series Hermione is constantly trying to get people the engage with her when she wants to argue, or learn. People are happy to inform her of things, but most people shut her down immediately when she starts arguing. Ron is the only character who consistently will engage with her when she does this. He’s the only person who will go head to head with her when her ideas aren’t sound. When she’s going off about SPEW and is trying to FORCE the elves into freedom against their will by hiding socks/hats she knit, Ron is the only person to engage with her about this and question it.

And she LOVES arguing/discussing things. She does so with so many people throughout the series. She argues at the drop of a hat- To her it’s not arguing though- to her it’s just dicussing/qestioning/getting to the truth of the matter- but it drives most characters away- not Ron.

Hermione also does this for Ron. He’s nowhere near as argumentative as Hermione- but he also loves to sit down and discuss stuff- and frankly he’s been so overlooked for so long- it’s wonderful he’s found Harry and Hermione- two people who readily want his opinion, want his input, and enjoy discussing things with him.

Ron and Hermione are both people who crave mental stimulation- and give it to one another throughout the series. It’s not just about arguing- it’s about engaging with her. Most people won’t listen to her and talk about topics with her because she bulldozes others. He is not bulldozed and will engage. Instead of Hermione speaking into a void, or foisting opinions on an unwilling audience- she has Ron there. He is offering her companionship. She obviously LIKES this companionship- even before their friendship she relentlessly pursued him and Harry to ‘help them’ and ‘correct them.’ She is a willing participant in this- and with Ron finally has an audience for all her thoughts. She seeks him out. At first he did not want HER companionship- but they bonded and he changed his stance.

He’s not just a silent audience- he participates- sometimes he’s agreeing with her. Sometimes he’s debating with her. Sometimes he’s laughing as she gets outraged and stamps her foot. But he’s there with her- Hermione chose Ron and Harry as friends. Her choice speaks very loudly. She could choose to never speak to Ron and only be friends with Harry. When she was icing out Ron in DH for a bit she did just that! But throughout the books she engages with him and visa versa.

4) They are fiercely protective of each other and have a bond/trust there that few could compete with

I mean, this is something througout the series- they are always willing to make sacrifices and help each other out- facing things they might not for anyone else.

Ron is the only person to see to Hermione’s needs most of the time. He is the only one to push in third year to learn why she’s disappearing so often. He is the only one to volunteer to help with Buckbeak’s petition. He is the only one worried about her dating some dude they never met who is legally an adult (yes a lot of it is jealousy- but I’m shocked he was the only one to be like ‘Um, no one else finds this problematic???’) 

He’s making sure she eats properly, defending her left and right (got tons of detentions from Snape for all his defense of Hermione, faced his worst fear for her (spiders in the woods with broken wand), slugs with Draco etc) When Hermione is crying over her parents, it’s Ron who immediately is by her side with a handkerchief holding her as she cries (same at Dumbledore’s funeral.) When Hermione is tortured, it’s Ron who carries her body away from their and gets her the medical care she needs (and who offered to take her place before the torture began.) Hermione is able to emotionally lean on him throughout the series and does- and Hermione looks out for Ron in this same way (though not to the same extent.)

When he’s being tortured with ‘Weasley is our King’ she is kissing him to distract him, when he’s hurt by his brothers she is standing up for him and helping him out (Percy’s letters, the twins being mean about his prefect status), they are entwined at Dumbledore’s funeral, and she’s holding him when he mourns Fred.

They intrinsically know how to be there for one another.

5) They are attracted to one another

This we don’t get as much insight on, as the two are so repressed it’s ridiculous- but the two of them obviously are attracted- they’re always vying for the attention of the other- are plagued by jealousy- and Ron even tells Hermione she looks great. The two blush at compliments and just are attracted.

6) They have a passionate reparte they can’t find with anyone else- where they complete the picture for each other

Each bring something different to the table- but they

Hermione offers her intelligence, hardworking nature, and drive

Ron offers cleverness, strategy, companionship, self-sacrificing, and loyal

They both offer honesty, passion, kindness, loving natures and companionship.

The two of them bicker- but we see in the books they are SHOCKED when people see them as ‘fighting’- as seen in OotP and Harry yells at them for fighting and look highly offended at being cut off and chastised like this.

The two of them keep each other honest, and have personalities that make a rumble everywhere they go. People like to think the two of them bring out bad qualities in the other- acting as if Hermione is a quiet sage intellectual who maturely goes about life until Ron comes into the picture. No. Hermione is unsubtle, pushy, abrasive, argues with a lamppost, and condescending. She’s also incredibly smart, passionate, and kind. She’s an emotional train-wreck a lot of the time who doesn’t have much in the way of interpersonal skills- she’s either quiet and kowtowing to authority figures, or pushing at people.

Ron on the other hand is not some chill dude until Hermione comes along. He’s passionate, always ready to throw down, is brash, and calls out anyone on their bullshit within a square mile. He’s also sensitive, loving, and self sacrificing.

The two are lions through and through with everyone- and that includes one another- but they work so well together because they enjoy passionately tearing into subjects, passionately loving one another, and taking on everything from monsters to parenting Harry. :P

Few people could deal with Hermione’s fiery nature- which again seems to be ignored in much analysis. People like to project and think of her as some lofty intellectual who is all cool logic, forgiveness, and objective. No. Hermione has never been that. Read the books and you can see how she is ruled by passion over her intellect.

I think people criticizing Romione a lot see relationships as something that should be all about shared interests, objective discourse, and perhaps some level of attraction. How very ‘Spock’…

They personally read arguments with any emotion/passion/loudness as negative. As a Latina, I gotta say- LOL. My poor poor husband. He comes from a very uptight white family where everyone is quiet and never expresses an emotion much at all. Like that John Mulaney bit- ‘I will keep all my emotions right here [points to chest] and then someday I’ll die.’ So the first time we had a debate and I was loud he was SHOOK. Now he knows- oh, wait, she’s loud all the time- like any time she’s passionate about a topic she’s loud. Ok! It’s like the ‘My Big Fat Greek Wedding’ family. They just loud.

That’s how Ron is (and all his family are!) and that’s how Hermione is.

They genuinely like one another (as shown time and time again how they smile at each other’s actions, value the other’s opinions, admire one another’s actions) love one another (as shown by how VERY much they go to pieces when the other is in danger/hurt, how Ron even said it in the books) and bring out something good in each other.

Ron is coded with female traits, while Hermione is coded with male traits in the series- he’s the emotional caretaker (making tea, feeding people, putting pjs on an injured harry, allying the group with emotional enthusiasm), while Hermione is the brain (helps with exposition, spellwork, gives answers to solutions and riddles.) Together they are the perfect team.

The two of them are awkward humans at times, and they are able to make it work. Hermione is able to look past Ron’s flaws and deeply admire him, while keeping him honest and really bringing out his intellectual side that he’d probably neglect left to his own devices. He is able to look past Hermione’s interpersonal flaws and deeply admires her, is able to make her see other sides to equations she doesn’t think about, and brings out the fun side of Hermione she would DEFINITELY neglect without his presence.

Dating for Ron is hard due a bit to social awkwardness, but it mostly comes down to his insecurity due to his familial upbringing (That was continually reinforced at hogwarts- the message of ‘you’re not good enough,’ ‘you don’t matter.’)

Despite some differences and disagreements, Ron and Hermione understand one another. The respect they have for one another goes very deep (though I think Hermione has some growing to do in this department when it comes to verbal validations.)

You see throughout the series that Ron admires (and does NOT ONCE SHOW JEALOUSY OF) Hermione’s abilities. He compliments her on them in every single book. Hermione is also pushing Ron to live up to his potential (Which she think is large- because- hint hint- IT IS) and gushes over how brilliant he is towards the end of book 7.

Relationships aren’t supposed to be easy, but as far as Romione goes- their relationship IS easy the majority of the time. The upsets they have as teenagers are silly and fun for a plot and overblown, as are most of the interpersonal dramas in a fictional kids adventure book. Objectively, they have so much good and little bad- subjectively- they have passion and love.

Ron is one of the most multifaceted characters in the book. He’s not just passion/emotion/loyalty- he also has an incredible strategic mind, is instinctively brilliant with magic (always picks up on magical stuff the other two don’t like the taboo, or his ‘predictions’ about stuff that always come true, or how he broke gamp’s laws when he made a mushroom.) In some ways Ron is entirely confident in WHO HE IS, and refuses to bend or change for anyone- and in other ways he’s completely insecure and certain that he is hated. He’s brave, but anxious. He can be rude, but he also will fiercely protect. He wears his emotions on his sleeves, but never verbalizes his insecurities. He’s the fun guy- but also the one who will literally let himself get killed so you can survive. Like, Ron is such a great interesting multifaceted character. Just the sort of interesting, provoking individual to never let the ever passionate Hermione get bored with. She could never get bored with someone with so many different modes. She can sit and analyze situations with him for hours, but she can also laugh with him as they explore shops for hours. They are adaptable together.