#lay off spellcheck

[ninthcircleofprythian]

You'd think that after the shocking amount of Azriel fanfiction I have stored in my WIP, that my computer would have figured out that I do in fact mean AZRIEL when I type his name and not ARIEL.

[ceebit]

wc : 0.5k. fluff. not spellchecked aaaaaaaa

note : when will it be my turn. sob

“wonu?”

headset pulled away from one ear, the noiret sneaks a glance downwards from the haze of the multicolored screen before him, gentle flashing lights reflecting in the clear lenses of his glasses. his hands still over the mouse and keyboard, and he lifts one to tug his mic out of the way as the paused screensaver flickers animatedly.

your sleepy mumbles draw his attention like a magnet—curled up in his lap as you burrow yourself as close as humanly possible. nose brushing against the skin that peeks out his hoodie, he can’t help the faint smile that adorns his lips when your eyelids flutter against the incoming lull of sleep.

wonwoo knows it’s late. knows you’ll have to get up early in the morning. work is as demanding as ever, and the both of you need as many recharge hours as you could get—but you were working late, and he couldn’t sleep without the comfort of your weight with him in your shared bed… so he turned to the next best thing.

it’s been hours since then, though. hours since you’ve stumbled home with work tousled hair and wrinkled clothes, since you’d freshened up and gotten ready for bed with a few words shared between you. hours since you dropped your bags at the front door in search of him, always, and allowing yourself to sag into his embrace.

now, your hand curls around the fabric of his hoodie, grey cotton pliant under your fingers, and his heart skips a horrid beat amongst the realization that you trust him enough to let down your walls and be vulnerable with him like this. to let him hold you at your most exhausted, and see you in ways only he can.

“wonu,” you sigh, and shift impossibly closer. his warmth becomes your shared warmth, and the sounds of his friends’ silence in his ear fades to nothingness. “‘m tired,”

“it’s late,” he agrees quietly, apologetic. “sorry.”

you shake your head, rustling against his shoulder, and the content exhale that leaves your lips spreads through his body like a warm breeze. “s’okay. you can finish your game, i know chan must be wondering what’s holding you.”

he huffs a laugh at chan’s quiet affirmative through the headset but can’t bring himself to unpause the game. wonwoo rubs your back soothingly, head resting atop yours, and contemplates going to bed. you’re home now, meaning he could go to bed and rest easy, but…

‘go.’ vernon’s voice shakes him from this thoughts, pulling him back into the present. wonwoo’s gaze falls back to your sleepy form, lashes resting upon your cheeks. ‘i’m sure you’re tired. we’ve got work tomorrow, anyways. go.’

“thanks,” is his quiet reply, mic pulled back in place but still mindful of your tired state. “goodnight, everyone.”

“night,” you add, voice airy with fatigue, and wonwoo smiles faintly at the sound of soonyoung’s complaints about still being single. removing the headset, he’s quick to log out and hoist your form into his arms and slowly pad across the room to bed.

your arms reach for him the second he lays you down in the comfort of linen sheets, drawing him closer until you curve naturally into each other like two fitted puzzle pieces clicking together. he draws miscellaneous shapes into the back of your shirt, head rested atop yours once more, and with shared murmurs of love, he finally allows himself to drift off.

complete masterlist

taglist (send an ask to be added): @candidupped @kim-jvnkyu @lovingdokyeom @wonublr

[emeritusemeritus]

Vulnera Sanentur [Weasley Twins x Reader]

Part 1

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Title: Vulnera Sanentur

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley {Established relationship}, platonic Snape x Reader.

Timeline: DH1- Set during the events of the seven potters. Canon and certain plot points have been altered for the needs of the story.

Summary: The battle of the seven Potters throws your world into chaos when one of your boyfriend’s is cursed. As Snape’s ex-potions assistant and previous protégée, you recognise the inflicted curse immediately and demand answers from your mentor.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of war and Voldy, descriptions of injury and blood, descriptive smut, p in v sex, shower sex, tension. Snape has a soft spot for reader. Arguments. Probably some cursing. Mentions of nightmares. Reader is part of the Order of the Phoenix. Mentions of death (Dumbledore). Mentions of Tonks’ pregnancy. Not spellchecked nor beta read, we dire like Madeye.

"Dumbledore's dead, it was Snape."

Your eyes opened in sheer panic as you startled awake, quietly gasping to force air into your lungs as you attempted to center yourself, realising you were safe. You looked around the dark room, breathing deeply and squinting through the darkness, familiar outlines of furniture slowly coming into focus as you took in your surroundings, realising that you were safe in your bed. The familiar weight of two arms slung around your waist gave you an immediate sense of relief as you quietly lay there, your breathing and racing heart slowly calming as you listened to the small snores and steady breaths of your two sleeping boyfriends lay either side of you.

Fred's body was pressed tightly to your back, his arm crossed over your waist as his hand cradled your clothed breast, whilst George lay beside you, your head on his shoulder with his hand resting on your hip. Despite the comforting knowledge that you were safe, surrounded and protected by your beloveds, the words from your dream replayed in your mind like a continuous, tormenting loop, casting an essence of foreboding within you.

"Dumbledore's dead, it was Snape."

Those words had haunted you since the moment you'd first heard them, the words and the greater meaning completely unfathomable to you. You weren't there when Dumbledore had died, but you saw the pain in Harry's eyes each and every time his name was mentioned and for some reason you couldn't escape the moment you learned of the headmaster's demise at the hands of your mentor, Professor Snape.

You'd always had a certain proficiency for potions, that much was clear as early on as your first year when you'd passed the first year examinations with flying colours, earning top marks in your written work and had drafted an exemplary specimen of Forgetfulness potion from memory. You'd proven time and time again that you were both able and interested in potions and for those very reasons Snape had seemed to take a liking to you, never giving you the same harsh treatment he so often bestowed upon his students. At the start of your sixth year, Snape had offered you the role of Potion Master's assistant, a highly esteemed role that had never been offered to a student before. You'd accepted with sincere gratitude and had found that working alongside Snape was much more harmonious than you could have anticipated, both of you sharing a bond of sorts, finding that you were a good team. Of course you were conflicted with his treatment of Harry and his general preference towards the Slytherins, particularly Malfoy, and you could hardly excuse his past as a death eater but for some reason you sensed conflict and guilt within him that redeemed him at least slightly in your eyes. Most students wrote him off and cold and uncaring but you saw beneath that, having seen first hand his caring nature, both with yourself and Draco in particular.

You'd been with Snape the night that Harry and Draco had duelled in the sixth floor boys bathroom, when Harry had unleashed an unknown curse he'd found in that cursed book to block the cruciatus curse that Draco had fired.

Snape had sped to the bathrooms with you in tow upon hearing Myrtle's scream and had tended to the gravely injured Malfoy without hesitation, casting healing spells and incantations that manage to stop more blood pouring from the gashes that littered Draco's body. He'd ordered you to get the essence of dittany from his personal store at once and you'd applied it to the wounds that were knitting together as Snape concentrated on the incantation. Later that night, when he had taken Draco to the infirmary, he'd called you into his office and told you never to speak of it to anyone, and you had kept your promise, knowing the grave consequences you and your loved ones could face if you did.

When you were told of Dumbledore's demise at the hand of your mentor, you'd been astounded and profoundly shocked. Though Snape could be cold and harsh, you'd never once seen him be anything other than loyal and respectful to Dumbledore, which only greatened your shock and horror at the events that had transpired.

"Angel," a voice whispered gently in the dark, the hand holding your hip squeezing gently to get your attention. You turned to George, seeing that he was awake now and watching you. He offered you a small smile as he looked at you with concern in his eyes, his hand moving from your hip to stroke your cheek. "What's got you awake?"

"The usual," you whispered back, with a sigh, nuzzling down into his bare chest to comfort yourself. He placed his arm securely around you and made room for your snuggling, though you still had Fred's arm around you which restricted your movement just a little.

"Want to talk about it?" He asks quietly, stroking your hair, knowing exactly what you are referring to. You don't reply verbally but instead shake your head against the smooth skin of his shoulder, your hand rising up to run your fingers through the sparse patch of hair beneath his pecks, feeling mostly smooth skin beneath your fingertips.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up," you said quietly, drawing little circles on his chest as he stroked your back soothingly.

"You didn't," George says, though you know he's lying. "Need to get up soon anyway."

Disappointment surged through you at his words, realising that he was right as you looked at the little digital alarm clock beside the bed, seeing that there was less than twenty minutes before the alarm would sound out to prepare you for the big day ahead. You hummed a little vague reply and snuggled down closer to his side, already feeling morose at anticipating having to leave him later that day.

"Want to take a shower with me?" He asks, his hands running up and down your back gently. You consider it for a moment, not yet willing to part with the warm, comfy bed but a shower with George did sound like a nice way to wake up.

You looked up at him and nodded, earning a sweet little smile from George as he slowly leant down to place a kiss to your lips, just a small peck that was meaningful nonetheless.

You managed to manoeuvre out of bed without waking Fred and as you slipped into the bathroom with George, you cast one last glance back at your sleeping boyfriend, seeing him now sprawled across the entire bed, seeking the rare opportunity even in his sleep.

George had started the shower ready for you both and was just in the process of checking the water temperature when you walked into the bathroom, really looking at him in the light. You always thought George looked incredible in the morning, still rousing and slightly dishevelled from sleep, his newly cut hair spiking in every direction. He was only wearing a pair of lounge shorts that hung low on his hips, his muscular back completely on display for you as he adjusted the knobs before turning round and flashing you a gorgeous smile.

"It's ready Angel," he says, walking over to you and immediately grasping your T-shirt, or rather one of Fred's old ones, by the bottom and slipped it off of your body, leaving you in just your panties. The whole act wasn't overtly sexual, it was comforting if anything spending a little time just being intimate with one another but you couldn't deny that the scales were tipping and everything that George did seemed to light a fire of desire within you, your nightmares already forgotten. You didn't miss the way George's gaze rested on your naked breasts before he leaned down and captured your lips in a kiss, clearly needing to feel as close to you as you did him. Your hands stroked down his chest as you kisses and you started tugging down his sleep shorts so that he was bare before you, feeling him smile into the kiss at your desperation to get him naked. Your panties were next, George's long, deft fingers slipping into the waistband and slowly dragging them down your legs as he broke the kiss, moving downwards with your panties until you were both completely naked.

"Get in angel," he says with a smirk, smacking your bum gently as you pass him to step into the steaming shower cubicle. The hot water feels heavenly against your skin as you step under the spray, ensuring to leave enough room for George too. Because of your boyfriends' height, the shower had to be raised right to the top of the slide rail, shock created a wonderful waterfall effect for you. George stepped in behind you, closing the door and placing a dry towel over the top of the cubicle away from the water spray for after.

His hands immediately begin running over your hips as you wet your hair, pushing it back and away from your face. You each lather up your hair with the shampoo you shared and take turns washing it out under the spray. You laugh and joke as you reach up to style his shampoo-filled hair into different configurations, manipulating the suds to form different shapes. You'd successfully created the shorting hat on top of his head, though with his new shorter hair it was much more abstract and you poured as he stepped under the spray and washed away your masterpiece.

"Let me," he says as you reach for your shower gel hanging by the little rack. George's hands roam over your shoulders as he spreads the sweet scented gel over your body, watching as it turns to suds in his hands. When his hands slip down over your breasts you can't help but rest your head on the tiled wall, a little puff of breath escaping you at the sensation. You could tell that it was having an affect on George by his increasingly excited member in your peripheral vision that was beginning to run against your leg.

"My turn," you say with a smirk, turning to face him completely as you reach for his products, squeezing a little out into your hand as you begin to lather him up, starting with his shoulders and slowly working your way across his abdomen and down.

He gasps and groans when your hand comes into contact with his hard cock, beginning to pump him slowly, just how he likes.

"Fuck Angel," he groans, eyes closed as he tips his head back in pleasure. Your pace slowly increases as you squeeze him just a little tighter, building the sensations he needed, rewarded in turn by his frequent moans.

"Angel, fuck," he moans, reaching up to suddenly grab at your wrist to stop. You look at him with wide eyes, worried that you'd done something wrong but he immediately pushed you back into the tiled wall, smirking at your little gasp from the coldness of the tile before he kissed you passionately, hands wandering all over your body. You moan into the kiss as his fingers drag over your pebbled nipples before slinking down your body until they slip between your legs, feeling the heat and wetness there.

"Georgie," you moan as his fingers begin to circle your clit, knees trembling already at the sensation. "Georgie I need more, please."

The spot he'd been kissing on your neck is suddenly punctured by his teeth as he groans and dominantly spins you around, manhandling you with little to no effort as he positions you as he likes. Your breasts are pushed against the cold glass, nipples already aching from the cold as he presses you gently into the glass wall. His hand reached down and spanks you, earning a gasp followed by a deep groan as his fingers begin to toy with your little pussy once again, this time from behind. His finger slips inside you and you can't help but buck your hips at the sudden but welcome intrusion. He pumps his finger in and out of you a few times with precision before he suddenly pulls away. Seconds later you can feel the familiar bulbous tip of his erection pressed against your labia and you rock your hips again, desperate for him to enter you as he snickers at your desperation.

Grabbing hold of his cock, he slips back and forth through your folds before pulling away slightly and slapping his tip against your clit a few takes making you cry out. Without warning, he suddenly reaches for your leg and holds it up, spreading your thighs and leaving you completely open for him as he slides in all the way, your hungry pussy greedily accepting him as you feel yourself stretching to accommodate him.

You moan out in unison at finally being joined together and he slowly pulls himself back out, dragging it out so that you can feel every single inch of him, every vein and every ridge before he slams back into you, setting a brutal but tantalising pace as he fucks into you from behind. His moans and groans echo in the little cubicle and those mixed with the steam from the shower make you feel lightheaded and completely fucked out already.

George shifts you forward just a little, still keeping hold of you securely before resuming his thrusting, making you cry out at the new angle. He manages to slip even deeper in you now and you can't help but rock your hips at the intensity of the feeling as he bites and sucks at your neck from behind, never once loosing his momentum.

Suddenly, he spins you in his arms so that you're facing the shower and with one swift reach up, the spray of the shower is no longer above you as George knocks the shower head off the clamp, allowing it to bungee down until it was spraying your bodies. With his unoccupied hand, he reaches for the showerhead and immediately aims it up at your pussy, causing you to scream at the new sensation. The spray of the water was focused entirely on your pussy, the forceful droplets hitting your clit in the most perfect way which only furthered your pleasure. You were completely overwhelmed, the water vibrating against your clit, your nipples taught and aching from the coldness and George's perfect cock filling you entirely. You couldn't hold out any longer and you could feel your climax charging through you, all of your pleasure spots being played perfectly by your boyfriend as you begin to cry out louder and louder.

"Georgie fuck, fuck, George I'm cumming," you cried out as he fucked into you harder and harder, balls slapping against your pussy as he feels you begin to clench and roll your hips at the intensity of the orgasm crashing over you. He lets go of the showerhead immediately, knowing that it would overstimulate you quickly as he focuses on thrusting through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure and cresting his own as he fucks into you. Your clenching walls squeeze his length in the most wonderful way and he only lasts mere moments before he's cumming inside you with a roar that reverberates around the small room.

He stays inside you as you both catch your breaths, George's arms lowering your leg back to the ground as you wiggled your toes, feeling the familiar ache begin to creep into your limb from being held up for so long but you only smile, feeling blissfully fucked out. He slowly pulls out of you, resting his head on your shoulder as you keen at the sensation, both of you breathing deeply as you feel his cock slip out, followed by a stream of his cum that slips slowly out of your little sore hole and down your thigh.

"Perfect timing," you laugh as you hear the alarm blaring from the bedroom, followed by a loud groan from Fred who you can picture slinging his arm over the side of the bed to whack the clock into silence. George chuckles against your shoulder at your words before placing a kiss to the spot he was resting on, moving to stand at full height again. His hand reaches out for the showerhead and carefully avoid any areas of your body that would be too sensitive, he washes away the evidence he'd left on your body with his hands before turning off the shower and placing it back into the bracket clamp.

"I love you so much," he says suddenly, prompting you to turn and face him, seeing the trepidation in his eyes. Today is the day that the order would be transporting Harry to the burrow, a dangerous but necessary mission and unfortunately for you, both of your boyfriends had been chosen to assist with this operation. Tensions were high and the stakes were even higher, meaning that you were all scared of the outcome.

"I love you so much George Weasley," you smile, feeling your own emotions bubbling under the surface at the prospect of what could happen tonight. You moved forward and stepped into chest, his arms instinctively wrapping around you as you fought of the chill, no longer having the hot water to warm you up.

"If something," George begins to say, but you place your lips on his to silence him, not wanting to hear it. You pull apart and though he still looks downcast, he understands.

"We love each other, that's all we need to think about right now." He nods gently and pulls you in for one last cuddle, placing a kiss to your wet hair as he holds you. The sentiment is not lost on you, both of you completely bare before each other both physically and emotionally, each needing to cling to the other as you navigate the next 24 hours.

"Have you two done fucking? Some of us need to take a leak!" You hear Fred shout, though his voice is muffled through the door. "I don't need to point out that I'm feeling very left out here!"

You laugh and pull apart as George reaches up to drape the towel around you before you both step out of the shower. You walk over and open the door as Fred bursts in, staggering straight to the toilet as he pulls down his own pyjama pants and pulls out his cock, not even caring that he has an audience as he relieves himself. His bleary eyes look over at his twin and he instantly grimaces, seeing him completely nude with only a small towel ruffling his wet hair.

"Gross, get some clothes on," he says, flushing the toilet and walking over to the sink to quickly wash his hands.

"You see him naked all the time," you say, watching his reaction, pointing out the facts. Fred turns to you with a frown before seeing you dressed in only a towel which clearly piques him interest.

"That's different, I don't actively look at him, in fact I try and avoid it. When you're naked I don't see anything else," he grins, moving toward you and messing with the towel where it was tucked, hoping to catch a peak of your naked body but you gently slap his hand away, making him pout.

"So he gets to rail you and I can't even get a peak? Where's the fairness in that?" He says with mock outrage.

"Stop pouting and you'll get more than a peak later," you say with a smirk which makes his eyes widen and his hands immediately fall to his sides as he puts his bottom lip away.

"Yes ma'am," he jokes before leaning in to kiss you, pulling you right into his chest as his hands snake over your bare shoulders.

Fred slips into the shower as you prepare breakfast for the three of you. George makes you a cup of tea and kisses you as he slides it over to you on the counter before taking a seat at the little table in the corner of the kitchen, pulling out the daily prophet and reading through the news of the day. Freddie joins you only a few minutes later and slips behind you as you cook the breakfast, pressing dangerous kisses to your neck as his arms wrap around your middle.

When breakfast is ready you all take a seat and eat in comfortable silence, listening to the radio that Fred had flicked on as he entered the kitchen. There's tension in the air as the news reporters begin to list off the names of witches and wizards that are declared missing, with a few familiar names creeping up on the list such as Charity Burbage, the muggle studies professor at Hogwarts.

You tried to push down the anxiety that was swirling around you and tried to focus on the positives of the day. The shop was closed today on account of it being a Sunday as to not arouse suspicion for the sudden closure to anyone who might be looking for signs that Harry would be moved, knowing that the death eaters were all waiting for this information.

Your orders from Madeye had been simple, though you were still a little aggrieved that you hadn't been selected for the mission, you were to apparate early to the burrow alone and set up a base camp for the returning members. Your talents in potions had been mentioned by your ex-professors Snape and Remus numerous times and this information had earned you the unofficial role as the healer of the group, with your own draughts having been created and shipped to the burrow in preparation.

You had a few hours until you were due to arrive at the burrow and so you took your time getting ready, checking and re-checking the bag you were apparating with, namely containing your personal items, clothing, toiletries and copious amounts of dittany and other healing and restorative herbs that you could use incase of injury or worse.

When it was time to say goodbye to your boyfriend's you could barely hold back the tears as they held you between them both, all three of you cuddled together as the reality set in, those dark thoughts twirling about in all your heads as you looked upon your boyfriends for what could be the last time. If it was, you wanted to commit this to memory, the feel of both of their arms around you, their towering height, the softness of them and the small little differences that you could physically feel between them both.

"I love you Princess," Fred says, pulling you into him as George steps back, letting you both have a moment. "I've loved you for as long as I can remember and there will never be a time that I don't, whatever happens tonight." Tears pooled in your eyes as you nodded to his words, feeling his hand delicately cupping your jaw as he looks into your eyes. "I'm not going anywhere, you're stuck with me forever you know that? Him too, but mainly me," he smirks, nodding his head to George who you're certain is rolling his eyes.

"I love you Freddie," you say, reaching up to kiss him before turning to George.

"You already know how much I love you," George says, taking your hand in his and pulling you closer.

"Yeah I think I heard that this morning," Fred mumbles before receiving a glare from George that makes him step away, leaving you to have a moment with his twin.

"We'll be back before you know it, be safe, I love you." He presses a firm kiss to your lips, hands clutching at the fabric of your dress.

"Now, future Mrs Weasley, do you have everything?" Fred says, moving back towards you as he placed at the bag by your feet. You smile widely at the nickname, butterflies raging in your tummy as you nod.

"My dress is already at the burrow," you say, thinking of your dress for Bill and Fleur's wedding in a few days, "everything else is here."

You glance at the clock and take a deep breath, knowing that you needed to leave. The twins both seem to notice and though you can tell Fred is trying to play it cool, you can see his fingers fidgeting at his side as they often did when he was uncomfortable. George's eyes told you everything you needed to know, the torment and sadness at being parted so clearly visible in his sad look.

"Don't keep me waiting," you say with one last smile before you reach for your bag and with a loud crack, you begin to pull through space and time before ending up directly outside the Burrow in the tall grass.

Molly rushes out to greet you, no doubt having been waiting for your anticipated arrival for quite some time and pulls you into a warm hug, ushering you inside and thrusts an already made cup of tea into your slightly shaking hands. Ginny heard the commotion and comes barrelling towards you, sweeping you up in a hug before you do the same to Hermione who follows suit. Ron stands back awkwardly but you simply step towards him and wrap your arms around him, knowing he wouldn't make the first move. He doesn't resist in the slightest and you hug your boyfriend's younger brother for a moment before pulling away, smiling at them all. Arthur then rounds the corner and ushers you in to a fatherly embrace, asking after his twin sons. Bill and Fleur arrive not long after and then Remus and Tonks, who pulls you away to the front lounge to speak with you.

"Tonks, that's wonderful! I'm so happy for you both!" You say with wide smiles as you embrace the mother to be, overjoyed at their wonderful news as she shares it with you privately whilst you await the rest of the order. Upon entering the kitchen once again, you see Remus look up from his discussion with Bill and you smile widely at him, mouthing congratulations secretly so no one else would see. He shoots you a shy but kind smile with a nod of his head that shows his thanks before he engages in conversation once again.

Kingsley shows not too long after and you greet each other formally but fondly before Madeye bursts in gripping the collar of a disgruntled Mundungus who looks like he wants to be anywhere but here.

"Right, Hagrid is meeting us in little whinging, as are the twins," he says, stomping forward to address the small crowd. "The plan has not changed, we will be executing it precisely as Dumbledore wanted." Suddenly he turns to address you, his fake eye wandering around the room as his real eye focuses entirely on you. "Have you brought everything I asked?"

"Yes, everything's ready," you reply with a nod, eyes flicking over to the little wooden box on Molly's table that housed all of your pre-prepared potions.

You walked over to the box and pulled out a large vial of pre-prepared potion you'd been brewing all month before walking back towards Madeye and handing it over. He examined it briefly before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a familiar flask, sniffing it once before tipping the poly juice potion into the flask before handing the now empty vial back to you.

"It'll last two hours, give or take 10 minutes, Fred and George will need to take slightly more on account of their height, everyone else a big sip will do. Get Harry's hair from the root and sprinkle it in, swirl it around but don't shake it, let the hair dissolve and it won't fail. "

"Excellent, right, best not to keep everyone waiting, Mundungus you're with me."

Madeye marches out and the rest of the group take turns to say goodbye to eachother. You reach out and grab Remus' jacket sleeve as he starts to walk away, gesturing for him to hold back for just a moment.

"Tonks, she, I, should she really be doing this?" You ask delicately, not feeling at all right about sitting about whilst a pregnant woman goes into battle. Remus simply smiles at you and pats the hand that clutches his arm, as if he appreciated the thought.

"I've never once been able to stop her yet, I hardly doubt any being on earth could," he says simply with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. You can tell the weight of the task at hand is laying heavily on him, knowing that both his wife and unborn child would be out there on the front line.

"I can take her place," you say, offering yourself but he shakes his head.

"She knows the risks, as do I, and I greatly appreciate your concern but it's already set."

The waiting has grown to be excruciating as the hours dragged on. Molly whizzed around occupying herself, fluffing and re-fluffing pillows, picking up her knitting then throwing it down in frustration moments later and scrubbing the kitchen counters until the sponge was worn down to a slither. Ginny on the other hand sat frozen at the table, hardly moving as she gazed into nothingness, her worries written clearly all over her face. You tried your hardest not to think of the possibilities and had tried desperately not to think of your boyfriends or friends and companions out there but it was hopeless, all you could think of were Fred and George, desperate to be reunited with them again. You'd checked all your potions, split them into individual vials and had begun brewing more, reading up on healing herbs and anything else you might have missed as you waited. You'd made countless cups of tea for the three of you but none had truly been touched other than a few sips here and there and Molly had created a feast for the members due to return, mostly just to pass the time. You'd actively avoided looking at the infamous clock that featured each member of the Weasley family but as the clock chimed announcing that it was 9pm, you'd accidentally cast a glance at the clock and saw that nearly all of the Weasley family were now pointed at the 'mortal petal' setting on the clock, all except Molly, Ginny and Charlie. Your stomach dropped as you considered what could be happening, knowing that they were due to arrive at Harry's any moment and tried hard to reason with yourself that there was no option on the clock that would fit this exact circumstance, though it was complete denial.

You could tell Molly was trying her hardest to appear strong but considering that four of her sons, her husband and beloved friends were out there, she was clearly distressed. Both of your loves were out there and that was hard enough, you couldn't even fathom how she must be feeling.

"Molly, please let me help," you say, walking into the kitchen where she was scrubbing the sink once again. She stopped and turned to you and you saw the faintest crack in her resilience as she paused her scrubbing, heaving out a large sigh. She gave you a small smile and handed you the dishcloth to dry the plates and you worked in comfortable silence, not quite knowing what to say to each other despite years of a budding parental friendship.

A resounding bang followed by clattering and a splash out in the field immediately made you freeze and look at each-other with an unreadable expression.

They were back. At least, you hoped it was them.

Next

[kechiwrites]

YOU SAID YOU WANT CAPTAIN PRICE STUFF?? welll sheeeit idk, price giving you a ‘goodbye’ before the mission the best way he knows???? 😩😩😩🥺

Oh Captain, My Captain.

captain john price x reader

synopsis: your husband gets deployed, you get some dick. it's the natural order of things.

cw: afab!reader, no pronouns + gendered language, anal, like a lot of it, married people being freak nasty as they should, cunnilingus, established relationship, fingering, my blatant disregard for spellcheck or grammar, no use of y/n ever, mdni (seriously...stop.)

an: gotta get my yayas out somehow, i can't believe i havent written about him or soap yet. quick someone bring me a soap idea too. thank u so much my angel Val, this sparked joy in me fr. also price is 40, no i dont take criticism, the cod team told me, my uncle works at nintendo.

I'm obsessed with the facial hair, unfortunately. And I just know he's loud. Like really loud. Like, no, never in public, because you're getting found out, loud.

Him saying goodbye goes much like it always does. It's customary at this point; he gets deployed, you're worried about your husband dying in some secret op in the middle of nowhere, you ask him to leave you a creampie to remember him by. As if he won't be back to fuck you into unconscious when he returns. You promise him a night of his favourites. Pussy and ass.

Between the mustache and the way that man groans into the lips of your pussy, getting eaten out by Price is literally a heavenly experience, a brush with God, feels more like a treat for you, but by god does the Captain get into it. He likes it best when you lay back, lower half hanging off the bed, with him on his knees between your thighs, your legs over his shoulders and his slicked up thumb rubbing so insistently, ardently at the furl of muscle below your cunt.

You know what, in fact, you're hard pressed to remember a time you and John fucked where his hands haven't drifted down your back to grip at your ass, pulling the cheeks apart to toy with you, dragging the roughened pads of his fingertips over where he's split your pussy open on his dick, up, over your taint before playing with your rim.

You can, however, remember the first time he'd sank the red, leaking tip of his dick into said ass. He'd been patient, kind, generous with loosening you up, continues to be so. Letting him in where he likes it best is an arduous process. That night, after a short, gruff talk about boundaries and limits, and a kiss on your wedding ring, he spent the two hours before the act, sucking at your clit with military precision, sliding his fingers in and out of your messy cunt, until you came. And then he did it again. And again. Until you were soft and pliant and fucking delirious. When the time came, it'd been pressure and pain that with time and so much effort, eventually devolved into sin soaked pleasure. His cock is thick, blunt tipped and brutal, so the Captain had to work you open in long, languid strokes, while he pawed at your midsection, keeping you in place, hands steady and sure. You're just getting used to push and pull of him thrusting into your ass when he comes, huffing and moaning into your shoulder, while he blankets your back, his facial hair tickling at your neck and shoulders. Even with his voice muffled against your skin, he's noisy, groan tapering off into a whimper and a sigh as he grinds against you, filling you in the most unfamiliar way.

I figure goodbyes with Price go a little something like that.

i write "mrs. captain john price" on my lisa frank notebook in pink gel pen. also i think his dick is like thick in a scary way, like average length maybe less, but obscenely thick. :)

support city girls, reblog what u like.

[roseyjean]

Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High? (Soukoku Angst)

Warnings: Angst angst angst, I slapped this together before I lost motivation, homosexuals in denial of their homosexuality, skk, Dazai (man's a warning in himself istg), alcohol intake, third person but with Chuuya's thoughts so sort of first person, slightly ooc because I suck at writing fully in character, no spellcheck because I fix my writing mistakes the first time 😎, swearing,

AN: @nugget-child is the demon who requested this- my first ever request RAAAAAAH

It's short er then chuuya but I like it

I listened to a creepypasta Playlist I made while writing this

It was three am when Chuuya's phone started ringing.

He didn't have to roll over to know who was calling him. Only one person ever called him at three in the morning, when anybody sane should be asleep. It happened every week, sometimes twice a week. Sometimes more.

Sometimes he wondered why he continued to pick up the phone.

It did him no good.

It only made it all hurt more.

Still, he stretched his arm over and picked up the phone, sliding the answer call button up and pressing the phone to his ear. Immediately was the annoying voice of the person he loved hated the most.

"𝘊𝘩𝘶𝘶𝘶𝘶𝘶𝘶𝘺𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘢~" Dazai slurred. "𝘕𝘦𝘦𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵' 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘳~~"

Chuuya wanted to say no. Dazai was the enemy now, a traitor of the Port Mafia. He should just ignore him, let him deal with the consequences of his actions alone.

But he never could make himself say no.

"I'll be right over."

He hung up the phone and dressed, grabbing his motorcycle keys and his wallet and setting off. The streets of Yokohama were mostly deserted at this time, and he made it to Dazai's apartment quickly, parking his red motorcycle in the parking lot and killing the engine.

He paused for a moment, not getting off his bike. Why did he do this? Dazai could've called any of the people he worked with. So why did he have to call Chuuya, his old partner? They hated each other. They always had, ever since Chuuya first joined. He'd never wanted to like Dazai. He was a stupid, selfish, suicidal prick.

Yet he still got off his bike and tromped up the steps to the apartment and knocked on the door. "Mackerel. Let me in."

Silence. No shuffling, no swearing, nothing. With a frustrated sigh, Chuuya tried the doorknob. The door swung open easily.

The apartment was a mess. Clothes, alcohol bottles, and loose bandages were strewn about. This was how it looked every time. Sometimes he wondered if Dazai knew the meaning of the word 'picking up after yourself'.

Speak of the devil, there was the shithead himself, laying slumped on the battered couch, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in one hand and his phone in the other. As soon as the door opened, his eyes focused on Chuuya.

"𝘊𝘩𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪~" He slurred, raising his arms. Bandages trailed from his limbs, unraveling, and patches of pale skin, covered in silvery scars, showed. "𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘵.... 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘬𝘬𝘬, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴, 𝘺𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘩~?"

Chuuya hated Dazai. He really did.

He cleaned up the clothes, and the bandages, and the alcohol bottles. He wrestled the bottle of whiskey from Dazai's hand and undid all the bandages from his body- arms, legs, torso, neck- and forced him to put some pajamas on. And he waited for him to fall asleep before he left, locking the door behind him with the key he kept on his keychain.

But he always came back.

[taones]

If You Can Hold On (3) - A.A, S.K, S.D

rewrite of the third part of the series (first and second parts here and here, original series on my masterlist) enjoy <3

pairing ~ poly asadaisuga x gn!reader

warnings ~ pining, angst, arguments, swearing, general stress tbh, my horrible attempt at writing purposefully cringe flirting, mildly suggestive, very brief editing and spellcheck so

You sniffed as you stirred, pulling the soft fabric underneath your cheek further into you. It smelt like sandalwood with a hint of coffee and you were instantly reminded of Daichi. The man’s coffee addiction had become serious during his final year. You supposed yours would too, if you were in charge of Hinata. His scent was a big reason why you enjoyed stealing Daichi’s clothes so much. Gripping the fabric in your fingers, the underneath was oddly warm. The further you returned to your sleepy state, the less you found yourself caring about the odd warmth of your cushion, or the slow rise and fall of it under your head. 

“Still sleepy, huh?”

Jolting, you snapped your eyes open. A strong heat flooded under the skin of your cheeks, you shot up. An action that brought the blanket that was covering you tumbling down your form, settling at your waist and exposing not only your body, but Daichi’s. You had heard several times from his partners that the man likes forgoing shirts when he sleeps, but observing it was a whole other story. Usually, when you stayed around, he was up and dressed before any of you and you never saw him without a shirt. It soon became clear why this was a good thing. The man was laying in the bed, under where you just laid, dressed in nothing but pajama pants and an unzipped hoodie. Honey coloured skin peaked out from the gap between the zipper, a toned and yet perfectly soft stomach just begging for you to reach out and run your fingers down it. 

Shuffling from the other side of the bed alerted you to the other two presences in the room. Asahi was sitting against the headboard, the other side of where you had evidently slept last night. His curly hair was piled on top of his head and he had those damn reading glasses on, the ones that made him look just as intelligent as you knew he was. He smiled closed mouthed, obviously bemused at your shock, and waved with the hand that was currently holding his book. Sugawara was curled under his arm, on the far side of the bed - still snoring, of course. Koushi was the sleepiest of all three of you. Hyper, undeniably, but once he was asleep, he was down for the count. 

Asahi slid a hand onto the thigh that was closest to him. His hands were large and calloused against the soft skin of your exposed thigh. Why you decided to pack shorts was a mystery to you. Especially now as you flexed the muscles, trying desperately to not squirm and pay attention to what he was about to say. 

“We were gonna grab some breakfast” he explained, in an unfairly attractive morning voice, 

“We passed a diner last night, probably swinging back ‘round to that”

“Once sleeping beauty wakes up, that is”

You smiled, biting your lip in an attempt not to laugh. The three of you would have an easier time herding cats. Asahi’s hand slipped off of your thigh. You tried to suppress the shiver that ran up your spine and desperately ignored the way you missed his touch as soon as it left. Getting breakfast together was a routine you were all well versed in. You had all spent the majority of weekends before your exams meeting in a small cafe near your homes to get waffles together. Simpler times, you guessed. You knew each others orders like the back of your hands, and you always got fed portions of their individual orders no matter how many times you went. The contrast between each order was evident and matched perfectly with each of them. 

“I’m up for waffles”

---

The diner was relatively busy when you got there. Of course, with Daichi’s team dad skills and Asahi’s somewhat intimidating stature, you had managed to secure a booth just fine. As tradition went, it was you and Asahi on one side, Daichi and Koushi on the other. Asahi trapped you against the wall with his broad shoulders, but you liked the security of it and this is something the others had very clearly noticed. You were almost 100% certain that the seating was done this way so you and Asahi wouldn’t comment on the obnoxious amount of chocolate and cream the other two piled onto their waffles. 

Conversation flowed easily. You were too sleepy to even entertain the thought of your wallowing that morning, much rather preferring the simple reminiscing and idle chatter the boys filled the silence with. At one point you had said something that made Daichi laugh so hard that he had snorted his milkshake out of his nose. There was some hope that they didn’t notice the way you preened like a cat at getting the usually stoic man to laugh that hard. It was a beautiful noise, but his true laugh was rare. The dad-like chortle making way for wheezing towards the end of his laughing fits was enough to get even the most stone-faced of people to crack a smile. 

You handed him a wad of napkins. He took them with both hands, lifting one to wipe his face and keeping the other firmly grasping yours. Your breath hitched. 

Eventually, after the fifth time of Daichi wiping the wrong spot, Koushi grasped a few more napkins from your hands and wiped the remaining chocolate off of Daichi’s face. You held out another napkin for the silver-haired man's fingers, being met by his signature dazzling smile. 

“What would we do without you, huh gorgeous?”

The bliss was interrupted by all of their phones pinging a notification simultaneously. Suga read the text and visibly grimaced. In an effort to protect yourself from the hurt, you cast your gaze towards the table. It was very obviously a group chat you were not on. The little bubble of joy you had experienced just moments prior popped sharply and it was if the room had dimmed under the morning sun. That was fine, they were allowed to be in chats without you, it wasn’t a big deal, it might not be their new addition, right? You repeated the question in your head like a mantra to calm yourself as you tapped on Asahi to let you out.

“I’m gonna order another drink” you mumbled, smiling brightly at the boys.

The last couple of seconds replayed in your head over and over, even while stammering out your drink order. It was slightly easier to hide your scorned feelings when you weren’t facing the cause. Your back was aimed towards the table of boys, even as you reached the coffee station and made a grab at a few paper packets of sugar. 

The paper was flimsy in your hands, not aiding the clumsiness that was already plaguing you. The coffee was intended for Suga and the man liked his coffee in a very particular way. You counted out exactly two packets of white sugar, and one packet of brown sugar. E preferred the wooden stirrers, even when spoons were available, said they reached the sugar in the bottom of the cup easier. Of course, this was most likely complete nonsense but you couldn’t help but entertain the thought as you took yourself through the motions. You smiled gently at the routine and just how absurd it would look to anyone else. How were you supposed to explain the oddity that was Sugawara Koushi and his fantastical coffee routine?

A hand settled next to you on the coffee counter. 

“That’s a lot of sugar for someone already so sweet looking”

Turning, you came face to face with a man a little bit taller than you, he had dark hair and a decently attractive smile. He was cute, sure. But he wasn’t quite as tall as Asahi, he didn’t have Daichi’s warm smell and his flirting was kind of wooden to anyone who was familiar with Koushi’s cheekier flirting. In your peripherals, you could see the inquisitive glances from your friends and you really couldn’t help yourself after that. Was it kind to lead someone on? Maybe not but you were tired of morality and interested to see how this would play out. 

Giggling, you looked up at him through your lashes. Screw it, if you couldn’t have who you wanted, you were at least gonna have fun. 

“Maybe I like sweet things, don’t judge” you mused, taking the wooden stirrer between your teeth.

The man leaned his other arm on the coffee counter, effectively trapping you against the cart. It was a move you assumed was meant to come across as sexy. However it just made you feel like you were a caged animal, cornered and ready to claw your way out of the situation. His hand retracted, holding more napkins than any one man could possibly need. The dark haired man shot you a wink and you forced out a smile in return, shooting a glance at your now empty table. The brilliant smile of the man in front of you began to fade, causing you to snap your head towards him.

“I’m so sorry, what was that?” you questioned politely, putting the clueless act on once again. 

A throat was cleared next to you. There was really no denying how intimidating the boys were when they wanted to be. Daichi’s arms bulged from where they were crossed over his chest. It was a display that would usually make your mouth water, but only proved to further fuel your anxiety in the given moment. They weren’t scary to you of course, but the sharp glare Suga was sending the man as well as Asahi’s unimpressed look caused a flush of anxiety to run through you. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Suga hissed at the poor man, who was now looking about ready to run.

“Sorry” the man stuttered, “I didn’t realise they were taken, know when i'm not welcome”

He put his hands up in a mock surrender and turned to leave. 

“Wait, no i’m not-” you started, but he was gone.

They had, not for the first time, rendered you speechless. Embarrassment curled in your gut, bubbling up into something more volatile when you saw the satisfied looks they sported, eyes following the man back to his table. Disbelief didn’t even begin to cover the cocktail of emotions that were currently mixing within you. 

If you didn’t leave, you were going to lose your temper very quickly. Chest heaving, you recentred yourself and spun on your heel, pulling your wallet out. 

The lady behind the counter looked only mildly intrigued at the odd display that had just occurred in front of her. She curled a perfectly manicured eyebrow at you as if to ask if you needed a hand. It filled you with a certain sense of irony, that this random woman was more concerned as to your feelings at that moment than your actual friends, who had known you for years. You stuttered out an apology and slammed some cash on the counter, probably harder than intended. Then you promptly turned and marched out of the diner. 

The mad scramble behind you was ignored in your attempt to walk to the car without bursting into tears, punching something, or both. You heard the protests in the background but they were muffled by the buzzing of rage in your ears. Fists curling and uncurling, you tried to think back to the last time you had gotten this angry. You had been plenty angry in the past, school was a difficult time for everyone, but the three men you had left in the diner were usually the first ones to calm you down. This was one of the only times they were the cause of your wrath. Most likely, they would also be on the receiving end of said wrath soon enough. 

Kicking the dust of the car park, you watched as stones and dirt scattered away from you. You wanted to scream, hit things, throw yourself in the dirt and cry - anything that would take some pressure off of the crushing weight in your torso. The flame twisted and gnashed at your insides, growling and clawing its way up your oesophagus until it released itself in a small scream of frustration. Would things ever be simple for you?

Telepathy had never been a skill you particularly craved until that moment. There was no way of understanding what those three idiots were thinking. Even if you did know, you were doubtful it would soothe your frustration. You threw yourself on the ground behind the trunk of the car, yanking your phone out of the pocket of your jeans. 

“Kiyoko” you seethed down the phone, “will you please come and pick me up”

She gave you the affirmative and set the loose time limit to her arrival. No doubt Yachi would be with her. You weren’t sure whether you would be able to deal with their romance in your face at that moment, but anything was better than being stuck in a car with Asahi, Daichi and Sugawara. 

Jangling alerted you to the three men in question. They had obviously paid and were frantically looking around the cars to locate you. With any luck a sinkhole would open in the earth and swallow you whole before they spotted you. 

Luck was never your thing.

The sky had opened up once again. It was almost beginning to grate on your nerves how much it had been raining this trip. The irony had been entertaining in the beginning, bordering on humorous how cliche it was. Now the weather you usually took so much pleasure in indulging in was maddening. You wanted to be angry with them for once, yell even. But the rain was washing your frustration away, leaving an empty feeling. A feeling that made you want to give up. 

Your prayers went unanswered, the three men walking up to you in due time. 

“What was that?” you questioned, voice resigned. 

“What do you mean? He was flirting with you”

The sound of genuine confusion in Asahi’s voice made your food feel like it was curdling inside of you. You breathed out in disbelief, brows knitting together tightly. 

“And just what does that have to do with any of you?”

None of them replied, taken back by your outburst. You stood abruptly and continued. 

“You’re all dating! You literally have two boyfriends and I know you’re talking to another person. So really” you paused, “why the fuck does it matter if i don’t want to be alone anymore? Do I not deserve to be wanted? You evidently don’t want me”

Your voice cracked towards the end of your rant. Three pairs of eyes stared at you in disbelief. The hints of hurt mixed into all three was evident, but you felt like a bottle that had been shaken and the lid was off. You erupted once again.  there was nothing more that you wanted than to be loved on purpose. it was inexplicably unfair that even unconnected attempts at finding a relationship had to be ruined by the three men in front of you.

“God it hurts, can you not see that? It hurts so bad. You won’t ever understand how much it pains me to be around you and see just how happy this new person is going to make you, knowing that’s not me? That hurts” you spat the last sentences, vitriol coating your words.

The storming sea inside you had calmed somewhat, leaving you to assess the damage your words had done. It wasn’t the most ideal way to confess your feelings but the weight that was lifted off your shoulders felt tremendous. The pain you were feeling was paralysing, stopping you from running like you desperately wanted to. It knocked the wind out of you, reducing your last statement to a pathetic whisper. 

“I get you don’t want me around, but other people will. It’s not okay to take that away from me”

As if some God had heard your plea, Kiyoko’s tiny blue car sped into the car park just as you broke down crying. The womans tiny blonde girlfriend sped out of the car, catching you before your knees could meet the wet sand beneath you. Yachi cooed at you softly, placing her entire body in front of you as if to form a shield between you and the cause of your heart ache. Her eyebrows furrowed in concern, eyes filling with sympathy at your curled up figure. 

It was truly humiliating. 

Kiyoki motioned for her to pull you into the car, stepping out of the driver's side herself and towards you. The dainty hands of the younger girl were soft and comforting, her rose scent filled your stuffy nose while she led your stumbling form to the welcome shelter of her girlfriend's car. The difference in posture between the two of you was like night and day. You were hunched over, protecting yourself from outside view. Your wounds were gaping, horrible open pits with your rawest emotions in the middle for everyone to gaze at and laugh. She wrapped a soft blanket around you, bandaging you up and keeping you safe in the backseat of the car. 

There were muffled voices from the outside of the car, but the sound of the heater being cranked full blast muffled them. There was a lot of angry words, not quite yelling but scolding certainly. You whimpered at the noise, not being able to distinguish who it was. You were certain they would never want to see you again, let alone speak to you, after your outburst. If only there was a way to scoop all of your words off of the floor and shove them back down into your mouth. Daichi, Asahi and Sugawara had never been in love with you, you could deal with that fact. Them cutting ties completely would surely kill you. 

A polaroid of Yachi and Kiyoko, perched on a wall and smiling at each other, was stuck to the centre of the car, directly above the stereo. It hung there, mocking you. You stared and tried not to think about how you would never be able to achieve that, not where it counted. In the end, it was easier to avert your gaze than confront what you couldn’t have.

Fuming, Kiyoko wrenched the door open and threw herself into the driver's seat. It was a miracle she managed to make even that look graceful. Her face was unnaturally contorted by an anger that was uncommon for her. It marred her beautiful features viciously. In staring at her, you caught sight of yourself in the mirror. It was a distressing look to say the least. Your hair was messy from your own grip and the bags under your eyes had only gotten worse. What little effort you had put into your looks this morning had all gone to waste, either washes away or dampened under the rain. 

Yachi stroked her hand over your shoulder and climbed into the passenger's seat. 

Staring out of the back window as the car pulled away, you caught sight of the three you had left behind. Koushi was patting Azumane’s back from where he crouched on the ground, dragging large hands across his face. Daichi was beside them, head buried in his arms on top of the car. You blinked. They had no right to be upset, you thought. You tried to block it all from your mind as their figures turned into tiny dots in the distance. All the years of friendship, the lives you had built together and the dreams you had created - they were buried in the dust where you left them.

me: says I'll post part three the next day, also me: takes a week to post it. I'm not sure when I'll get around to posting part 4 but hopefully I'll remember to actually post it

[someone-always-cares]

Progress update

Edit: laptop broke (hard drive issue), so thing will either be delayed a week or A Lot depending if my shit is recoverable. Back up your files regularly yall

Realised I should probably update yall on how things are going! Things are almost ready, just need to stich the book together together and finish a couple things, then I can order a sample of the book. I don't want to start the kickstarter until I have a book sample in hand that I'm happy with.

Admittedly looking like my original timeline isn't quite going to fit but such is life. its a close enough timeline so im not too annoyed just not in time to advertise it this weekend

to thank yall for your patience with this, here a sneak peek of the stickersheets made because I'm very happy with them and also because I just approved the proofs the manu sent me for those samples:

disclaimer: colours may vary depending on how the samples turn out (converting rgb to cmyk, my beloathed).

[id: two stickersheets, one of characters from chapter 1, and the other chapter two: chapter 1 sheets has: rami (civilian clothes), his whole team, tsunami, inkmaster, swarm, sound flood, and mori. as well as some smaller stickers: a sparkling wave, rami's logo, two diamond shaped sparkles, a small fireball, swarm's butterly, and three hearts with the ace, trans, and rainbow pride flags. chapter 2 sheet has: lewis and sound flood (both in civilian clothes), iris, faete, mindforce, and omen (super costumes). also several smaller stickers: mindforce's eye, a yellow and pink rose, a snowdrop, faete's sword, iris's notebook (with the words "stay safe"), a starry sky with city view, rami's hand holding a rose, and 5 blue pink and white hearts. end id]

also here's the cover (minus the blurb)

[id: image of the cover design, layed flat. aka the front cover is on the right side, back on the left, and the spin inbetween. designed to look like a corkboard with photos pinned to it, and red sring connecting things. on the back there are photos that are from various panels in chapter 1 and 2 (redrawn, specifically faete after transforming, cam readying her forcefield, lewis on the roof, and tsunami riding his wave. the back also contains enamel pins: a trans flag, an ace flag, and mindforce's eye. as well as the corner of a missing persons poster, a business card for "cullen's bowls 'n' bowls", and a blank sheet of notebook paper where the blurb should be. the spine has some starry washi tape with the title written on. the front has a piece of blue paper torn off at the end with the title on it, and stickers of a silver star and rami's logo. below is a large image of rami sitting in the water staring intestly at the viewer, light emerging behind him. around him, hands all strech out towards him, hands belonging to the significant character significant in chapters 1 and 2 of sac. end id]

so specifically what is left (no particular order):

spellchecking

adding page numbers to the bottom

finishing the rest of the not comic pages (aka the thank you note, about the author, deciation and the bit where im going to add names of people who pledged to the kickstarter) 75% done

character bios (admittedly optional i just want to do them)

bonus pages for art and sketches (i have collected all the art and sketches, its just deciding which ones to ue and which ones to save for next time because it makes more sense to put them with the more spoilery chapters 3-5 specific arts)

assembling these and sending a sample off to print

actually starting the kickstarter (once i have decived book sample back and am happy. i am not starting it without knowing 100% that i can fufill it right then and there)

(in the intrest of transperency: while these are all easy and mostly quick (aside from character bios. havent started that one yet), i also have some upcomign events that will have to take priority. that being a convention this weekend, next weekend, and my sisters wedding the weekend after (and the wedding gift, which is custom artwork of my sister and future brother in law. like a wedding painted but not on the day and also digital. so that will take up a bit of time after [another reason i wanted to get this done before then but ah well])

for real though one day i hope to be able to do art stuff full time because i am. so tired of doing a day job

also also there are versions of lewis and rami stickers in super outfits, they'll be seperate stickers

[id: drawings of lewis and rami, same as the stickers in the sheets, just seperate and in different outfits, the drawings have been placed close together, so it looks like thye're holding hands. end id]

you can make them hold hands :)

[thesongweave]

Fights

They all suffered injuries in their adventures across the wilds, sure. Before Halsin and Jaheria joins the company, the healing and treatment of wounds tends to fall between Alathea and Shadowheart. What they can't fix with their spells has to be dealt with through potions, poultices, and good old fashioned bandages.

So the first time (after admissions of feelings...) Thea takes a serious injury in combat while Gale was back at camp...

TW: injury

EDIT: updated with some spellcheck, lol.

They'd had an argument that morning - gods know Gale had been thinking about it almost non-stop since, especially since he had decided to stay in camp to get some space and cool off.

For the life of him though, he couldn't quite recall what had STARTED the argument in the first place ..

Maybe it was the shadows, the looming threat of Moonrise ahead...

They had already been there once, freed the surviving tiefling refugees &and some gnomes - slipped back out with none the wiser.

Then came a brief stop at Last Light before heading off after Balthazar.

It was that night he'd stolen away, turned the shadowy sky to stars and confessed to Thea how he had been feeling, and found she felt much the same.

They had been dancing around each other for some time now, really, but if he wasn't worrying about the orb, then Mystras command....

Gale had not wanted to burden Thea with his feelings just for him to turn around and die. But, he felt it not right to leave things unsaid, either.

The next morning, they'd run into Raphael, the damned devil. He wanted Thea and company to take care of a...well, Raphael was rather vague on what they'd find, but he wanted a thing taken care of. In exchange for information for Astarion.

Then there was the gauntlet of Shar, hidden under the Thorm mausoleum...

And now they were camped there, amongst the ghosts and the crumbling walls.

At any rate, Thea and Gale, who usually saw eye to eye on most things, did not see so this morning. So the bard, stewing from the... disagreement, had struck on out to finish the trials with Shadowheart, Karlach, and Astarion in tow.

Gale had been attempting to read, unsuccessfully, when a sudden commotion broke the silence that had been the camp. He heard Wyll shout out for him, which drew Gales attention to the returning adventuring team.

What he saw made his blood run cold and the blood drain from his face. Shadowheart, magic glowing around her hands, and Astarion flanked Karlach. All three were bloodied and battered, but it was, of course, the smaller figure that Karlach carried in her arms that drew the wizards gaze.

"Thea, oh gods no," he thought, book discarded quickly to the side as he grabbed his staff and ran up, "please, no..."

Karlach was laying the elf out in a hastily laid out bedroll by the fire pit, Shadowheart never ceasing in her healing magic - for all the good it seemed to be doing. Why wasn't it working?

"What happened!?" Gale felt a disconnect. He heard himself talking, but it sounded miles away as his eyes took in Theas unconscious form.

Like the others, she was covered head to toe in blood. She was unnaturally pale, paler than Gale had ever seen her.

Halsin had swooped in next to Shadowheart, partially blocking Gale from Thea. The former first druid set straight to work.

Everyone was talking, fast and frantic, but Gale wasn't listening, their voices all blending together to make an almost overwhelming buzz in his ears.

Trying not to panic, the wizard stepped around Halsin and Shadowheart, finally finding a spot to kneel next to his lover, praying frantically that it looked worse than it was.

"Fuckin - fuck me, but we didn't hear them coming. More of those undead justiciars, they portaled in behind us--" Gale picked out a bit of the story.

"They were in us before we knew it." Karlach was on the edge of being frantic, herself. Thea was her best friend, after all, and the tiefling made it a point to keep an eye out on the elven bard.

Gale gulped, seeing the broken haft of an arrow protruding from Alathea's midsection. It wasn't the only wound, of course, just the thing that drew his attention first.

"Healing not working--"

"Might be cursed--"

Shadowheart's and Halsins voices blurred together. Gale tried to listen, but his mind just kept playing back the angry words from that morning.

Why had they even argued in the first place? Why did he let her go angry? He should have been there...

Was she even breathing? Gales's mouth was dryer than paper.

She had to live. Gods, please, she had to. It couldn't end now, not like this.

He reached a shaking hand out to Thea's face, fingers just barely brushing her skin.

She was so cold.

"-- Gale!!"

Shadowheart's sharp voice snapped the wizard back, out of his own mind.

"Bloody hells. I think it might be a bone-chill curse. I cannot remove it - can you?" The cleric's tongue was sharp, a hint of exasperation edging into the panic that was in all of them.

Gale swallowed, trying to focus. Nodding, he faced Alathea's much to still body, just managing to focus enough to recall the incantation for removing curses.

Magic flowed from his fingers into the elf, the magic floating like must through the air as it settled over Thea.

There was a quiet over those gathered now, waiting...

"There!" Halsin exclaimed, soft streams of healing magic finally taking hold. "Come, Shadowheart. We may yet save her."

There was a flurry of activity as the two worked, quick as they could. Karlach and Astarion tried, maybe only half-heartedly, to get Gale to move to give some room, but let it go when he refused to move.

The few minutes it took for the druid and cleric to work their healing spells dragged on for what felt like an eternity to Gale.

Both healers sat back once they were done, sweat-soaked and exhausted.

Halsin was the one to turn to Gale, concern and worry clear in his features. "It is up to her, now. We have done all we are able to. Shall we move her elsewhere to rest...?"

Gale blinked, tearing his gaze from Thea. He had been so focused on watching her breathing...

"Ah, yes. My tent. I will watch her, of course." Gale felt lumps growing in his throat and stomach.

He'd never argue with her again if he had any say in the matter. Whatever it took to have Thea open her eyes once more.

Halsin nodded, standing and moving to pick the much smaller elf up. Gale stopped him, standing and gently gathering his lady love up in his arms. The druid nodded in silent understanding, simply resting a hand on Gales shoulder a moment before turning away.

"You will get me if anything changes, hm?" Shadowheart asks as Gale turns towards his tent.

He just nods.

Thea is so very light, he realizes. He noted it before, but now...well, he holds her just a bit closer, just a bit tighter.

She's so very still.

~to be continued~

[thisapplepielife]

5 Words Fic Challenge

Thanks for the tag, @hbyrde36!

The rules as follows:

1- generate 5 random words using this generator and then write something using those words! 2- tag 5 (or however many you want) mutuals to challenge!

(If you don’t like the five words you got, re-roll them. This is meant to be a fun little challenge, not something to stress over. Have fun!)

My words were:

Catechetical, incoordination, guitarfish, spilt, & acoustic.

Catechetical was the thorn in my side. Even spellcheck hates it, lol. Is that the first word I'd use? Or that thousandth? No. Does it make absolute sense? Questionable. Go with it. 😂

____

FIC: Steddie, fluff, flirting & innuendo, 2,108 words.

“Okay, Harrington, listen up. We’re gonna do this all catechetical-like,” Eddie bosses, putting Dragon Slayer, his acoustic guitar, in Steve’s hands. 

“I don’t even know what that means,” Steve says, sitting on the floor, his long legs stretched out. Eddie notices that he's holding onto the guitar awkwardly, the picture of utter incoordination. 

Eddie knows Steve Harrington isn’t uncoordinated. Not in the slightest, he’s just nervous.

“Questions and answers, keep up,” Eddie says, “now you ask, and I answer. Me teacher, you student.”

“Do you have a ruler to swat my hand with?” Steve asks playfully, reaching up for the beer in Eddie’s hand. Eddie hands it over, and Steve takes a swig before handing it back.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Eddie taunts, and then adds, “I'm not sure if I can rustle up a ruler. But I do have a set of handcuffs handy,” he says, nodding his head towards the pair hanging on the wall. “So be a good little student, or else."

Steve rolls his eyes. 

“Okay…” Steve trails off, seemingly unsure about this, “first question though, how will I know what questions to ask?”

“Good point,” Eddie says, “well, first things first, if you’re gonna be a guitar god, you’re gonna need a cool name. Like Corroded Coffin. Or Eddie the Banished.”

“That’s really the first thing? You sure about that? Wouldn’t actually knowing how to play the guitar be a more important first step?” Steve asks, looking up at him, suspicious.

“No way, never underestimate what a good stage name can do for you,” Eddie assures, waving his hands around dramatically.

“Fine. I don’t care, you can name me,” Steve says, looking down at Dragon Slayer laying across his chest. Eddie thinks it looks good there. Really good.

“Guitarfish!” Eddie shouts loudly, slightly unhinged, but sure of his choice. Sometimes you have to go with your gut, and his gut is saying Guitarfish.

Steve rolls his eyes, “Why Guitarfish?”

“Because you used to, you know, swim. Like a fish.”

“That doesn't even make sense. I’m not being called Guitarfish. It sounds stupid, dickhead.”

“Sorry, you shoulda named yourself then. Send all complaints to the complaint department. I hear the guy running it is pretty cool though, he might listen to reason.”

“He’s you, isn’t he?” Steve banters dryly, looking down at the strings and giving them a little pluck. It doesn’t sound great, but Eddie’s definitely heard worse. He tried to teach Gareth to play the guitar once, and never again. No fucking way. This can’t go that bad. Nothing can go that bad.

Of course, Eddie wasn’t interested in being this close to Gareth, either. He’s definitely got ulterior motives today. And he’s about to make good use of those motives, right now.

Eddie gets down on the floor behind Steve, and scoots forward until he has bracketed Steve’s body with his own. Is it a requirement to teach him to play the guitar? Probably not, but he’s doing it anyway. 

Eddie puts his beer down, steadying it, and then he hooks his chin over Steve’s shoulder, “Okay, we’re starting with an E minor chord. All the action is here on the second fret,” Eddie says, moving Steve’s fingers to the second fret, counting down from the top, “one, two. Okay, put your index finger on the fifth string, and your middle finger on the fourth string.” Eddie says, counting up from the bottom string, the thinnest one, and up to the top, the thickest. Then he adjusts Steve’s fingers to be in the right place on the guitar, “The fourth, the fifth.”

“The minor fall, the major lift,” Steve says absentmindedly, and now Eddie is the baffled king. 

“You know Leonard Cohen?” Eddie asks, shocked at this development. 

“Robin,” Steve says, by way of explanation.

“Robin. Robin, she of Madonna, Blondie, Bowie, and Beatles fame? That Robin?” 

“That’s the one,” Steve laughs, “she is a complex woman, who won’t be judged for her varied and vast array of interests by a dingus like me.”

“And you’re a parrot,” Eddie teases, and Steve laughs, “because that sounded just like Robin was in the room with me.”

Steve grins.

“Okay, middle finger there,” Eddie says, getting back to the teaching.

“I know where I’d like to put my middle finger,” Steve grumbles, and Eddie grins behind his back, but otherwise ignores him.

It looks uncomfortable, with Steve’s large hands, so Eddie makes a slight adjustment, “Try this instead,” Eddie says, and he has him use his middle and ring fingers instead. He definitely has long enough fingers to make that work, Eddie knows from experience. But that’s neither here nor there, right this second.

Later, maybe. 

“Does that feel more natural?” Eddie asks, looking at his finger placement.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one asking the questions?” Steve teases, and Eddie smiles.

“Smartass.”

“It does,” Steve finally answers, and Eddie nods.

“Okay then,” Eddie says, “now strum,” and he gets ahold of Steve’s right hand, and gets him to strum with the pick, and then lets go so Steve can do it on his own.

“This might be easier if you’d just tell me what I’m trying to play,” Steve grouches. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Eddie says, and he’s gonna keep torturing him a little longer. It’s too much fun. Annoying Steve is his favorite pastime these days. Well, second favorite, maybe.

Steve grouches, but strums the chord and it sounds good, it sounds right. Now he just needs to make the switch to the second chord, and they’ll be home free. Sort of. 

“Okay, now move your top finger up to the sixth string, and your ring finger down to the third,” Eddie says, and moves Steve’s fingers to do exactly that. 

Steve does it.

“Okay, strum,” and Steve does.

“Good, switch back,” Eddie instructs, and Steve fumbles a little, and Eddie knows that it’s awkward trying to get your fingers to do new things. “Go up with the top finger, and down with the bottom. Then back together, meet in the middle. And apart.”

“Feels like I’m stretching,” Steve says, lewdly.

And Eddie laughs, "You've got a dirty mind, Harrington." 

“Excuse me? I'm positive that what I said was innocent. You're the one that made it about something else." 

“Yes, you’re totally an innocent bystander here,” Eddie says, leaning his head against Steve’s.

Steve keeps up the switching, as Eddie talks him through it, right against his ear,  “And switch, and strum. Switch, strum. Switch, strum,” Eddie says in time with what he has in mind, rhymically. “That’s it, good.”

“Good seems unlikely,” Steve grumbles, but he keeps switching and strumming. 

“Keep doing that, right there, just like that, yes,” Eddie says.

“Now, that sounds dirty,” Steve sasses, and Eddie bites him on the neck. Steve jerks, yanking his elbow backwards, suddenly, making an ugly noise on the guitar strings. 

In all the flailing, Steve hits their shared bottle of beer, sending it skittering off the overturned red milk crate Eddie was using as a table. 

“Fuck, sorry!” Steve yells, and Eddie can tell he’s embarrassed.

“It’s fine. No reason to cry over spilt milk, er, beer in this case, I guess,” Eddie assures, hurrying and crawling over towards the foaming, shooting mess, trying to minimize the spray zone. He grabs a dirty shirt off the floor, and mops up what he can, before tossing the shirt in the vague direction of his dirty clothes hamper. “See? Fine.”

“Yeah, if you like the smell of beer in your bedroom,” Steve grumbles.

“Well, it has smelled of worse things before,” Eddie says, and he laughs when Steve wrinkles his nose. 

Eddie scoots back behind him, and kisses him on the neck this time, and Steve leans into the touch instead of jumping out of his skin.

“Put your fingers back where they were,” Eddie instructs, and Steve gets the right strings, but the wrong fret. “Up one fret,” he says, and he helps slide Steve’s fingers back up where they should be. 

“And a one and a two,” Eddie teases singsongingly, but Steve starts strumming and switching between the chords with more ease than before. “That’s really good, sweetheart. Now you’re cooking with gas,” Eddie says, and smiles to himself. Now he just sounds like Uncle Wayne always did while he was teaching Eddie all manner of things over the years. Guitar, cooking, how to change a flat tire.

Steve does it, his strumming hand eventually loosening up a little, and Eddie leans his face close to Steve’s.

“Okay, now for the actual strumming pattern,” Eddie says, “put your fingers on that first chord,” and Steve does it. “Great. It’s one, two, three and four. Do an up strum on the ands,” Eddie says, and he takes Steve’s hand to guide the pick across the strings, manipulating him into doing exactly what he wants him to. And then he whispers, “And switch,” and Steve does, so he says, “and switch,” again, and Steve does it, again. “And switch.”

“Stop that, you’re making me horny,” Steve says, laughing at him.

“Just now? I’ve been horny since we started,” Eddie says, pressing his whole body harder all along Steve’s back.

Steve laughs, and lulls back into Eddie, and Eddie kisses his cheek.

“Can you play that now? I’ll count.”

Steve nods, and sits up straighter again, and he fucking does. It’s stilted, and a little awkward, and fucking America, but it’s a song. The bare bones of one, but still music. This is music. He taught Steve Harrington how to play a song, and that’s still pretty wild to ponder.

“One…two…three, and…four, switch,” Eddie says softly, then repeats it when Steve switches from the E minor to the D6/9 chord, and back again. He seems to get it, so Eddie moves to the real strumming pattern.

“First chord: Down, down, up, down, up, down, up, switch,” Eddie instructs, and Steve does it, “Down, up, up, up, down, up,” and it’s a little clumsy. 

“No, I think it’s up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, select, start,” Steve sasses, and Eddie laughs out loud. 

Steve misses a few of the downs and ups, but he keeps repeating it, and Steve keeps strumming until he's doing it better, more reliably.

And then Eddie gets him up to full speed, increasing the pace of his instructions. Steve’s fingers aren’t totally on board, not yet, but he’s doing a pretty great fucking job for a total beginner.

“Really emphasize and feel that, up, up, up strumming on the D6/9,” Eddie suggests, and Steve does.

Then Steve stops abruptly, “Is this A Horse With No Name?” he asks, “Is that what the fuck I’m playing right now?”

Eddie cackles with delight, “It is! And you recognized it! So, you must have an excellent teacher.” 

Steve laughs, and starts playing it again, better now that his ear is involved and he knows what it's supposed to sound like. 

So, this time, Eddie sings in his ear instead of counting. He’s not sure he knows all the lyrics, but he makes up what he doesn’t know, and just adds a lot of la la las to fill in the blanks. It’s not exact, and there are more than a few missteps. Steve’s fingers don’t quite have this mastered yet, but he’s playing a fucking song, that’s for damn sure. So, it’s not perfect. Not at all. Not from either of them. 

But it's absolutely recognizable.

It sounds fucking great to Eddie, but he knows he might be just a little bit biased.

When the song is over, Steve turns his head to look at Eddie, and Eddie leans forward to kiss him. Steve kisses him back.

He kisses him like he hasn't done it in weeks, months, and Eddie loves him for it. He loves him. 

When they finally break apart, Eddie hugs him around his waist, tight.

“Look at that, my boyfriend plays the guitar now.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but says, “Okay, enough guitar lessons, time for bed.”

And Eddie’s not gonna argue with that suggestion, no way, no how.

After, when they are tangled together in Eddie’s sheets, in his room that now smells faintly of beer, Steve mutters, “That fucking song is stuck in my head, now. So, thanks a lot.”

And Eddie rolls into him, laughing uncontrollably, brushing his hand through Steve's mussed hair, pushing it back off his forehead, just like Steve likes. 

The damn song is stuck in his head, too, but that’s a small price to pay. For this. For this laughter. 

For this love. 

I'm sure the Eddie teaches Steve to play guitar trope has been done to death, but when you're given acoustic, guitarfish and incoordination, that seems like an obvious leap to make, lol. (And a shout out to the several YouTube guitar tutorials I mashed this together from!)

Absolutely no pressure tags: @dreamwatch, @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe, @designatedgrape, @wynnyfryd & @penny00dreadful and anyone else that wants to do it! It was pretty dang fun.

And if you now want the same earworm Eddie saddled them both with, enjoy! It's good thing nobody can see what I'm listening to on Spotify, I'm sure this on repeat only alternating with Hallelujah, makes me look slightly unhinged. 🤣

[ruckis--rookie]

You know what this has been shaking around in my head like a ping pong ball for a hot minute now and I'm impatient so you're getting a sneak peak: a scene from Order of the Stars. || Edit: Now that I've gotten a full 8 hours sleep I did some spellchecking and revisions. Fix ups in the future are debatable but not impossible; I like how this version turned out.

Here are some content warnings:

- grievous, untreated post-battle injuries

- borderline abusive villainous boss-lackie interaction (tbh a level below Darth Vader or BlackHat)

---

The screen flickers a monochromatic grey, dimly highlighting anything that's in front of it. It's maker included.

Geragera sits in his desk chair, slouched in front of the over sized monitor with his chin wedged in the palm of one hand. The other lay sprawled out across the desk, the soft sticky flesh of his index finger rhythmically tapping in irritation to the same beat of an old ticking clock.

Every interval is a second passed. His gills flex as he exhales with exasperation. He's hunched so far over his own desk that his face threatens to graze the surface of the screen. He can practically feel the itch of the static electricity clinging to him. Leaned in as if to see, yet his mind isn't there at all. He stares through the monitor as opposed to directly at it with eyes narrowed in anger. The only thing that tears him out of his own thought is the sudden scent of dirt and iron that hits his gills when he goes to take another deep breath.

He's so deep within his own muddled mind that he almost misses the shift in the room as Baron makes his return from a harrowing defeat. Baron careens forward, his breathing rattled and shallow. He encroaches just near enough to where he can take a knee behind the chair his lordship lounges in.

As well as he tries to mask it, it's very clear his bow is a poor attempt to hide his own body collapsing under the weight of its own injury and exhaustion. All the while Geragera has yet to acknowledge him, or stop tapping his finger. Baron wheezes dryly before being able to find his voice.

"Lord Geragera Guffaw I... I have failed you... I could not complete the task you issued to me... I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

There's a long bout of silence, save for the unwavering makeshift metronome that is Geragera's digit. Baron clears his throat sheepishly and continues.

"He was a lot smarter than we anticipated... I did my best sir, honest..."

On that note the tapping stops, making Baron's heart sink into the depths of his stomach. He almost preferred if Geragera kept tapping. The silence creates tension so unbearable it makes Baron's insides turn. A feeling that worsens as he watches that chair make a slow turn to face him.

Baron's gaze very slowly falls to the floor the more visible Geragera is in his line of sight. Gera glares down at the dark outline of his ally, and then to his weary and frightened, red glowing eyes. His eyes meet Baron's with a piercing glow. Baron swallows hard, fearing what Gera may have planned for him. Gera's pupils shake as he stares down at him, as if trying to figure that out himself. He slides out of his chair and trudges in Baron's direction. Finally, he speaks.

"No, you couldn't have known. That's why I sent you out there."

His words did little to ease the tension. Normally any voice would be soothing after long awkward silence, but Geragera's words cut into Baron like a knife.

"You're one of my strongest forces, you know that?"

He reaches Baron fairly quickly, so when he runs out of walking room, he takes to circling Baron like a shark. It makes Baron curl in on himself, his nose touching the ground.

"You're gifted with the strength and power of a celestial body- a prince from the stars, capable of feats most can only dream of. You can make the shadows, dreams, and winds bend to your will and yet youuu..."

Geragera trails off, putting emphasis on the last word of his previous sentence. He falls silent, at least until he can wrap back around to Baron's upper body. Baron flinches when he feels the movement of Geragera's feet right next to his head. His breath is still. Geragera stares down at him with conviction.

Just as Baron eases up to regulate his breathing it gets caught in his throat as he feels Geragera's frigid hands reach past his chin and grab at the clasps of his cloak. Despite being the same size, if not a little taller than Geragera himself, he's easily hoisted to his feet.

"By a human."

He hisses and gets in Baron's face, forcing him closer as the grip on the chains of his clasp grow tight enough to make Geragera's hand tremble. He bares his teeth in a maddened grin so intensely that it becomes easy to see the blue of his gums.

"A human that has no special powers and owns an enchanted blade that he doesn't even know how to properly wield! You let yourself get beaten by a NEWBIE!"

Baron flinches from the intense scent of mint from Geragera's obsessive dental hygiene practice. His pearl whites are so reflective that even the only light source in the room, the computer, creates a noticeable highlight on his fangs. Baron's forced to steady his stance just as quickly as he's pushed back by Geragera giving him a harsh nudge. Geragera stares him down expectantly, as if waiting for him to make a case for himself. Baron's very quick to justify his own shortcomings, lest he be scolded for not speaking at all. The reprimanding was inevitable, he might as well skip a few steps.

"A-As I said he was a lot smarter and adaptive than I anticipated. In my defense I'm much better at spy work and undercover missions than I am at f-"

"YEAH ya made that pretty obvious with THAT sorry display!"

Geragera turns around with a growl and marches back to his chair, slamming down in it with all his weight before deflating into it. Geragera continues his rant as Baron stares on wordlessly.

"Where's the innovation sweetheart? How many times have I said it-"

He slaps the back of his hand with each syllable as he continues flipping his lid.

"-That strength and wit don't mean SHIT if you can't adapt!"

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, rubbing at his tear ducts in the process of frantically trying to calm himself down. Baron can't help but gawp on with bug eyes. Very rarely does he see his master get like this. Then again, it had also been a while since they had tasted bitter failure, as uncontested as Geragera went for what felt like years.

"...to your credit, you did manage to get me some intel. So did Omega when he lost. And Barnibus when he lost..."

Geragera shakes his head and allows his arm to flop onto the arm of his throne.

"I can't deal with this right now. Stop bleeding on my floors and go to the infirmary. You're dismissed."

He straightens up and turns the chair back around to face his desk. Baron gathers at least enough of a voice to murmur one last thing.

"Would it not be easier to get healing from you...? Our contract states you would take care of my needs directly and I think I may-"

"GET OUT."

Geragera slams a fist onto his desk, the cluttered mess on top of it clinking and clattering for all but a second as they hop an inch off the table. Baron takes the hint and stumbles out of the room just about as quickly as he can, leaving Geragera darkness. He looks back up at the screen, making out the shapes of Aleron and his partner in heroics through the electronic interference.

He unclenches his fist and glides his palm across the surface of the table until it finds its way to an audio knob. He fidgets with it. The speakers buzz and whir as he tries to fine tune it. He finagles the knob to a sweet spot where he can pick up on their cheering and gloating.

"Revel in your victory while you still can. With every loss I take I learn a little bit more about you. How you fight, how you think, how you act, how you talk. You have my attention... and I'll make you regret ever being put on the radar."

As he glares daggers into the screen, seeing the kindly looking hero's face makes his expression soften but just the slightest. He resumes talking to himself as if someone were there to listen.

"...Though, things have developed rather interestingly. Haven't they? I would be lying if I didn't say I wasn't at least curious as to where this will end."

He gets a competitive twinkle in his eyes reflected by his goggles. Try as he might to fight it away he can't help but feel his lips twitching into a grin, and the hair on his neck raise in exhilaration.

"Will you rise and earn a seat amongst the stars? Or will you fall like your father before you? Can you be the champion for Neo-Earth The Savior could not? So many possibilities. So many questions. Regardless of the outcome..."

He clasps one hand over the other and rests his elbows on the desk, using that to prop his chin up. He looks up at the screen, the corners of his mouth curling into a twisted smile. He chuckles darkly while ogling the two rising stars.

"Now it's my turn to play~"

.....His brows furrow upon hearing a scraping noise, and the smell of sweet citrus. He swivels his chair around so fast that he nearly falls out of it, only to discover one of his own bots in charge of house maintenance having intruded and started scrubbing away the mess Baron had trailed on his way out with a scrub brush.

He peers at it with an incredulous expression. It looks up at its creator and gives a thumbs up with an open smile, looking so proud to be fulfilling its duties. Geragera exhales tiredly and slams into the back of his chair, the force slowly drifting him to face a wall that he purses his lips and squints at.

[oneofafew]

@thestrangerblog

Short request- Floating Candles Date with Sebastian.

I enjoyed writing this one, there is so much more I could do with it but I tried to keep it short for the time being.

I am loving these requests by the way.

Please excuse the lack of spellcheck and punctuation in this one, I wrote it at 1am when the inspo struck.

It was a note like any other completely unassuming she instantly recognised Sebastian’s hand writing and found herself smiling despite how utterly exhausted she was feeling, carefully she unfolded the parchment and read

Meet me by the bridge into the Forbidden Forest tonight

Love Sebastian x

As She glanced over it two things jumped out at her, the first was the very odd and vague location though by now she was used to his random escapades what struck her the most was the way he’d signed it with his “love” and a kiss at the end of his name, her brow furrowed as she tried to discern what it could mean, was he messing with her?

Sure the two of them had been flirting back and forth all year, casual comments and fleeting touches but she’d brushed it off and almost completely convinced herself it was purely friendly banter, surely if he was to ask her out it wouldn’t be to the edge of the forest, then again, this was Sebastian Sallow we where talking about.

She didn’t need to think on it, come the evening she’d already donned her warmer cloak and set off toward the castle gates making sure to keep out of the way of the prowling prefects, the night was still and a warm breeze ruffled her hair as she approached the location, she vaguely remembered following a similar path with Jackdaw and shuddered at the memory of what lay inside the forest, what on earth did Sebastian have planned?

As she approached the bridge she noticed a familiar figure leaning against the stone as she got nearer she noticed the smirk that was tugging not at all subtly at his lips and couldn’t help but grin in return

“Fancy seeing you here” he quipped standing up straight and approaching her his hands in his pockets his eyes were twinkling with mischief, he was definitely up to something

“You summoned” she said with a smile her eyes meeting his, something flickered within his own as he watched her

“Bring your wand?” He asked simply drawing his own to show her, as she didn’t know what a wand was

She cocked her head to the side with a grin “You said Forbidden Forest OF COURSE I brought my wand Sebastian” she replied flatly her voice dripping with playful sarcasm

“Alright smart arse” he rebuffed her giving her a playful nudge “do you trust me?” He asked positively bouncing on his heels with anticipation

She eyed him suspiciously “that’s debatable” she said too distracted with drawing her own wand to notice the waver in his gaze at her words

He swallowed his eyes raking over her face before he cleared his throat “give us some light will you?” He asked, although he’d tried to sound casual his voice betrayed him and he felt his cheeks heat as she regarded him suspiciously

“Why can’t you do it?” She asked gesturing toward his wand

Sebastian sighed softly shaking his head “just cast the damn spell, you’ll see” he teased

She considered him for a moment before shrugging and holding up her wand “Lumos!”

Instantly a group of floating candles appeared above their heads, she glanced wearily at Sebastian who was positively beaming, like a child showing their parent a new drawing, before she could question it however the candles started to float away from them, she felt a hand on hers and before she had time to process that action, she was being pulled along the path toward the forest.

The two walked hand in hand the candles lighting the way, the sound of the grass beneath them crunching and the evening air gently blowing through the trees filling the silence around them

“Sebastian what-“ she began her curiosity getting the better of her

Sebastian squeezed her hand reassuringly “shh you’ll see” he said his voice laced with a quiet excitement

As they rounded a corner the candles stopped her eyes fell on something she hadn’t expected to see, an iron table with two chairs perched at the edge of the forest the candles spread out around the set up casting a warm glow around it she noticed there was a picnic basket on the table and she turned to look at Sebastian who was looking at her expectantly

“I thought it was about time I took you on a proper romantic date” he said proudly gesturing toward the table and chairs

She regarded him for a moment vaguely aware of the butterflies that had now taken up residence in her chest before breaking into a smile “I suppose some would consider this a romantic location” she mused out loud, instantly regretting it when she saw his smile falter slightly “I mean it IS very you” she clarified taking the seat he’d pulled out for her

“Do you like it?” Sebastian asked taking the seat opposite her, his eyes boring into hers awaiting approval, he was all too aware how he looked like a love sick puppy and was secretly thankful he’d picked such a secluded location.

She nodded tucking her hair behind her ears looking around her “it’s beautiful” she said reaching across the table to take his hand in hers her heart thudding violent against her rib cage as she did so his fingers threaded through hers and they sat in comfortable silence for a moment

“Right, check out this haul” Sebastian said suddenly sitting up straight and opening the pick if basket to reveal all manner of cakes and pastries from the kitchen “very generous those elves in the kitchens when you’ve got a Gaunt by your side” he said with a wink as she peered into the basket ladened with treats and chuckled softly.

After eating their fill of sweet treats they sat and talked for what seemed like hours before they decided it would be wise to head back to the castle as they stood a chill descended upon them and she shivered slightly, Sebastian was by her side in an instant draping his robe over her shoulders with a grin

“I’ve always wanted to do that” he said adjusting it on her shoulders his hands lingering there as their eyes met and they shared in their grins

Sebastian’s hands fisted in the fabric of the robe and tugged her closer she let out of a soft gasp and he couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his mouth as he eyes flickered from hers to her own lips, he stole himself only for a moment before bending his head and kissing her his lips barely grazing hers until she pushed forward and all bets were off, his hand moved from her robe to the back of her head his fingers threading through her hair he felt her arms wind their way around his neck and heard a soft moan escape her only serving to spur him on further

Dizzy and breathless the two broke apart, her cheeks where visibly flushed even in the pale moonlight

“We should get back … before they lock the gates” she said breathlessly after a moments silence

Sebastian nodded taking her hand in his pulling her close to him as they set off back to the castle “you know, I reckon the undercrofts free right now” he said with a grin watching her face as she gave him a knowing look

“I dare say it is” she mused feigning innocence as they descended the steps into the castle earning herself a nudge.

The two shared a glance and broke out into identical smiles Sebastian eagerly tugging her toward the Undercroft mentally thanking every god he could think of that he’d come across that particular spot in the Forest.

[pippintheauroch]

random short story excerpt

hellooo, I wrote this in a group chat with no spellcheck and it is very random.

tw-blood and violence

if you don’t like this, then don’t read it! I enjoy writing small violent things for myself because I love to write and I thought maybe for once I might post something, so here we are. This story has no context, no background, and no connection to anything, it is just some fun random scene. Enjoy :)

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I chew their wrinkled meat and grind their bones between my teeth, but the gravelly shards slice my tongue and blood fills my mouth. I sit there as it seeps from the corners of my lips and hits the stone floor. I grab another chunk off my plate, a calf, or perhaps a piece of thigh? I do not know, nor do I care, their meat is all the same; beautiful and tantalizingly addictive. I sink my teeth into the flesh, I break the skin easily and relish in the feeling of my lips enveloping the skin. A mouthful of meat breaks from the appendage and fills my mouth. I chew slowly, the skin has an odd texture, it slips between my teeth. I roll it around my mouth, touching every inch of it. Before I can hold it in any longer, I swallow. The meat moves down my throat nearly suffocating me it is so large. I bring a hand to my throat and hold it there, secure around my neck. When I don't feel the meat pressing against my throat anymore, a warm pit pools in my stomach. And just like that, I want more. I turn towards my plate, and clean every inch of it till only streaks of red blood are left upon its surface. I lick my fingers slowly, and wipe my mouth on a napkin. Then, I stand up from the table and push my chair in, I turn around and face tomorrows meal. The small child's cries are muffled by the gag, and tears slide from her eyes. I smile at her, I know my teeth are stained red, but in a way I cannot help it. Some say fear makes the meat chewy, however, those who say that have never hunted human. The most appetizing human meat is that of the terrified child. The child sobbing in their helplessness, begging for someone to help them. Yes, their meat has always been my favorite, the fear, the terror, the utter horror as their reality closes around them. I take my knife from the table and bend down to her, the silver blade glints in the dim lighting. I drag the blade across the girls cheek, she stills at the cool touch of the blade. Her breath comes short and fast now, the tears that once fell so freely before slow, she knows this is her end. I smile wider, and in one slice, I drag my knife across her throat and she gasps, bringing her hands to the red gash. She presses her useless hands to her neck and red seeps through her fingertips, blood bubbles between her lips and stains the gag as she gurgles and attempts to scream. She falls to the floor and I stand up, her blood reaches out and touches my boot as it pools. Eventually she stops flailing, and lays still on the floor. I nudge her with my foot and her head lolls to the side, her mouth is slack and open. I sigh and grab her by the head, dragging her across the floor and lifting her onto the table with my empty plate. I need to slice her and prep her for storage. I undo the bands on her hands and ankles, then untie the gag. I touch her long hair, running it through my fingers. It is tangled and dirty from her imprisonment, and sticky with her blood. I grab my scissors and snip it off, long red locks fall to the ground and rest gently by my boots. When I am finished it is short and choppy, I cut all my victims hair, it makes storage much easier. I move to her arm, and stroke the inside of her elbow gently with the knife. I cannot start yet, I don’t have the proper tools in my hand. My grip tightens on the knife and I remind myself, soon, soon I can have what I want.

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im sorry that was so random and weird, but I can never commit to full stories so it’s just random scenes from random ideas….

very sorry if you hated it :/

[hawksismyeverything]

Alone

Hello! This is an agere fic for DabiHawks! Hawks is an age regressor, around age 1-2, and Dabi is his CG! I'd prefer STRICTLY SFW INTERACTION for this post. Agere is a coping mechanism, and I am an age regressor myself. Thank you!! Post under the cut.

Keigo stared at his phone screen, watching as it dimmed slowly before shutting off. He didn't care. He hadn't really been paying attention. Really, he was just waiting for Dabi to get done with whatever he was doing so he could text him, or be small, or both. He just didn't want to be alone when he inevitably slipped into littlespace. The minutes ticked by like hours, before a notification finally, finally, popped up on his screen.

However, it was from Tomura, not Dabi. It confused Keigo, knowing that if Dabi was out, technically Tomura should be too. The message read; 'Hey, scarface idiot got stuck in a meeting and told me to check on you, so you better not be dead.' Well that was a lovely way to shove him out of headspace, wasn't it? He quickly typed back; 'Yea im alive thx' before hitting send. There was a long silence. Keigo glanced at his phone as if he could manifest a response from Dabi, but he didn't see a text. He blinked, and went back to browsing the internet.

Finally, Dabi sent him a message; 'u ded?' Keigo grinned, but not in the I'm-Looking-At-A-Camera way that he usually did for reporters. He typed back immediately, not even bothering to spellcheck before responding; 'nope! hihi dabi!' He thought that would tip Dabi off as to how close to little Keigo was, but apparently he was too tired to think about it. 'hey birdbrain' Was all Keigo got in return. No babybird? No sweetie? He almost tilted his head before thinking of how dumb he would look. Still, it was better than having Dabi just reply back with his name. He could just picture the breakdown now. Sobbing on the floor, convinced his caregiver would never love him again. Dabi had a tendency of doing that accidentally. 'hii' Keigo typed out slowly, hoping once again that Dabi would get the hint.

He didn't. 'u sed that alredy' Keigo cringed at the fact he wished he could babytalk, but he didn't even know if it was okay that he was small yet. He needed confirmation. 'My bad- yous okay?' Keigo tried, slipping a little s on the end of a word, trying even harder to make himself stay big a little longer. 'yea im fine, u?' Keigo groaned, laying back onto the bed, feeling a lump in his throat. He was holding off headspace, and it was gonna make him cry. Great. His phone pinged, and as he glanced at it with teary eyes, he noticed it was a message from Tomura. 'Hey. You small? Dabi's oblivious. Need someone to talk to? I can tell him if you want. Just sayin.' Keigo laughed, though it sounded more like a choked cry. He still tried to respond in as much of a big boy voice as possible. He knew Dabi would tell Tomura eventually that Keigo was not tiny at all, that he would totally have said something. Not that it was unusual for Keigo to do this.

'No is okay- thx tho Tomu' Keigo typed back, the fuzzy feeling in his brain taking over finally. 'I'm telling Dabi. That's not a problem, right Kei?' Keigo visibly shook his head, as if Tomura could see him. His papa didn't need to know, it wasn't that big of a deal yet. 'You don haveta tell' Was all he managed to type back. 'I'm gonna.' Was the response he got. With a silent thank you, Keigo set his phone on the bedside table and curled up in the middle of the bed. He couldn't convince himself to get up and get a stuffy, or a paci, or literally anything that would make him feel better.

His phone pinged, and Keigo almost wailed. He really didn't want his papa to know he was tiny, because he hadn't even told him. 'Baby?' It was from papa, so clearly Tomura had told Dabi. Keigo should have known; Tomura doesn't make empty threats. 'Hm?' 'You wanna talk to papa?' 'Mhms'

His phone rang, Dabi's face popping up with his name under it. Keigo lit up like a Christmas tree, a grin spreading onto his face, solidifying his headspace pretty quickly once he set the phone down, putting it on speaker. "Hey birdie^^" Dabi's voice, cracky and tired, came across, and Keigo could have melted right there. He loved his papa's voice so much. "Hai papa! What doins?" He chirped in response, rocking back and forth lightly. "Talking to you, silly! How old ya feelin'?" He questioned. Keigo thought about the question for a moment, unsure how to properly answer. He was definitely older than normal, but he was still dropping. Maybe three? Two? Two at least- "Am fee!" He answered after a minute, though he quickly added, "Prolly gon be smawer doe-" He practically heard Dabi's smile. "So you're just my little guy, huh?" 'Mhm! Papa's lil guy!"

Just imagining having his papa next to him to snuggle was enough to send Keigo straight to tears. Dabi obviously noticed, as he quickly asked, "Kei? Babybird, is something wrong?" "Papa no hewe!" Keigo practically wailed. "Do you need me there?" "...nu needs..." Keigo mumbled, tears falling down his cheeks. He didn't need anybody, but he still didn't have his paci, or his blankie or Lottie, his stuffed robin.

"I'll be there soon, bub. Don't worry," Dabi said, in attempt to calm Keigo. It simply made him feel worse, as if he were causing Dabi more hassle than he was worth. "Papa no, don need, issokay!" Keigo whined. He only wanted Dabi to be there, to hold him and play with him and let him forget about being big and hurting and being lonely. "I'm on my way. I love you." "Kei woves chu toos."

Keigo sat in stunned silence, curled up on his bed, slipping farther than he'd like to admit. He was really quite small. One or so. Maybe younger. Every noise made him whimper, every creak or gust of wind sent him farther down. Dabi's footsteps included. "Hey, babybird, breathe- oh jeez- okay, c'mon, sit up for me." "Da!" Keigo shreiked, his arms wrapping around Dabi's midsection. "Small, huh? Maybe one- you call me papa when you're two or above, so- okay-" Dabi muttered, adjusting Keigo's weight. "You need anything before we lay down? "Paci an bankie an Loddy!" Keigo whined, his head falling into the crook of Dabi's neck. "P'ease?" He added softly.

Dabi quickly placed a pacifier in his mouth, Lottie in his arms, and a blanket around them before laying down with him still in his arms. "So small, so itty-bitty, so tiny," Dabi murmured in Keigo's ear. "Daa! No tinies! Am big! Ver' big!" Keigo protested. "But who'll be my baby if you're so big?" Keigo faltered. If he wasn't dada's baby boy, then dada wouldn't have one. Dada needed one! Keigo accepted defeat, laying his head back down. "Okie, am lil," He agreed, ever-reluctantly. He was tired. And he was too young to fall asleep on his own. "Right. You can stay like this as long as you want," Dabi reassured him, picking up on Keigo's train of thought. "Da ver nice," Keigo murmured, letting his eyes fall shut. Dabi sat there in silence, holding Keigo's small body and watching as his breathing evened out, deep breaths that quieted even the loudest ones. It was beautiful, really. Just how Keigo was.

[dreaming-marchling]

Candle rollerskate juicebox dice mushroom planet candy tooth icecream tomato bug flower

on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that?

I think I'd have to go 5. Dead center because I really love the first like 15 times I read something lol. I re-read my writing a LOT in preparation for posting. So that initial edit when it's all really fresh and then later when I'm making it all cohesive to make sure it matches with the way the story flows is great. Then it gets really miserable and tedious. The final read through before I post is like dragging myself through mud.

describe your latest wip with five emojis

🌿🐻🐍🔒🌧️

share some personal lore you never posted about before

I don't talk about books much but I'm a huge reader outside of fics too. Like I own hundreds of books.

what stops you from writing more in your free time?

I have a hard time focusing. Fighting the "I feel emotionally blah, I'm just going to mindlessly scroll" thing is a battle some days.

share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

I've not written it (yet) but I have kind of endless daydreams about Magnus using Pandemonium as an informal court for the warlocks (or just Downworlders in general but technically it's meant for the warlocks he leads) to bring him issues/requests. And then on nights when Alec is with him, this powerful Shadowhunter just drapes himself on Magnus, sits in his lap, sitting on the floor at his feet and laying his head on Magnus' leg... just not having to put on his Leader face and letting himself be Magnus' instead. Maybe only on Downworld night? And the Downworlders are unsure of how to take this but Magnus is very "he's surprisingly cuddly *shrug*" about it

name three good things going on in your life right now

I have two wonderful cats who make my home happier, I finally bought a new mattress (it's glorious) and though I'm dealing with some crap at work I do have a job that is not bad and allows me financial stability

post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

I think this was the popular opinion and then the tide has since turned but I continue to loathe Nesta from the Court of Thorns and Roses series. The main justification after all those pages was like "you can't hate her, she hates herself" but like no, I can totally continue to hate her.

share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on

Steam a cut up head of cauliflower, slowly roast 5 to however many garlic cloves as you want in a few tablespoons of butter (or oil), combine, season, thin with a little water (especially pasta water if going on pasta) and then blend in a food processor for like a decade. Literally walk away and start cleaning up your kitchen. Blend until you worry for the motor. It'll transform into the fluffiest creamiest garlicky "alfredo" sauce that won't break and get all greasy when you reheat later. Great for batch cooking that requires reheating.

name three good things about a character you hate

Jonathan in Shadowhunters: It wasn't his fault really, he loved Clary, his little move while he was activating Clary and Jace's runes was super smooth

give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing

I need to understand and internalize the difference between lay and lie. I can't forever go off what sounds right in my head and defying spellcheck. I'm sure some reader is like BITCH YES PLEASE lol

add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

“I will.” She promised. He hated dumping so much on her. Lying to the police, having to take care of Brian in the aftermath of something so major without him, calling everyone and having to tell their family and the team what had gone down… This was a lot to ask anyone.

They had no choice. Dom trusted her. He trusted her so fucking much.

do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them

Unfortunately I am a weirdo who likes to keep all photographic evidence of my life off the internet but I do have 2 awesome cats. A tortie girl and a black boy who are littermates. They're 3 now. She never shuts up and he squeaks. She demands I wiggle the string constantly, he's literally got an anxiety disorder that in the last year has really let up its grip on him and he's like blossoming. They're great little monsters.

Thank you for asking!

[bindi-the-skunk]

SEADOGS chapter 1 WIP (let me know what you think)

THIS HAS NOT BEEN SPELLCHECKED YET)

Chaos erupted all around the League as they battled.

"Watch yourselves!" Quartermain bellowed as he took aim with his rifle at whatever enemy came close.

And this was meant to be a vacation….but tell that to terrorists! No consideration at all when someone wants to enjoy a holiday in Scotland!

Gunshots from both sides made everyones ears ring, with Hyde taking the pain in his head out on those who dared get into arms reach, the men, who had gladly tried to murder man, woman and child alike, had their pants becoming wet as bladders emptied upon being faced with a several hundred pound brute roaring in their faces before tearing them up like a child would a present.

Mina causing very much the same reaction with her swarm of bats, even controlling a few nearby birds into attacking those who got wise enough to run only to be met with pecked out eyes.

The crew of the Nautilus managed to overwhelm a few with sheer numbers, the terrorists only having around twenty men at their disposal.

And yes the use of disposal was very literal in this case, there was no order or honor among the terrorists.

Nemo swung at one man who tried to sneak up on his side, blood pooling on the ground before the idiot knew what had struck him, these fools were obviously untrained and just wanted to cause mayhem and hurt as many innocents as possible.

The terrorists had blown up a mercifully empty building, but there had still been people caught in the blast, of whom were being taken out of the fight range by whatever League or crew member got closest to where they lay, thankfully most proved either too frightened or hurt to care about the lady swirled by bats or being lifted into the air as if by nothing to try and fight against their rescue party.

Soon things went quiet as the final terrorist met his end, at Skinners hands surprisingly as the last remaining man tried to flee only to find himself on the other end of a floating firearm.

Nemo relaxed slightly, noting that it seemed no one but their enemy had fallen that day, a rare thing, a few cuts and perhaps a good once-over by their resident doctors and everyone would be right as rain, and this would be something to be celebrated as soon as they returned to the ship and had been properly cleaned up.

Best to go collect everyone then, all this smoke and the previous noise had given Nemo a terrible migrane.

Growling from a nearby alley drew the captain's attention, thinking at first it might be a stray dog looking for food or its owner, only to see a great beast desent apon him, it was all black, save for its yellowed teeth and red gums, even its eyes blended into the fur.

Nemo swung his sword in defense only for the monster to surprisingly grab the blade in its teeth, shocking the captain long enough to yank the sword from his grip and it clattered off into the rubble as Nemo found himself on his back, arm in the jaws of the creature making him shout in pain.

The captain kicked at the monsters belly and punched at it with his free arm and fist, but it seemed to do nothing, only making the teeth in his arm dig deeper.

A gunshot went off as the beast fell to the ground, a bullethole set perfectly between its black eyes.

"Nemo!" Sawyer called out, running for his fallen friend who clutched his wounded arm as it dripped blood.

The pain slithering up Nemo's arm like a snake and could he not help but shout again as Sawyer tried to get the captain to his feet, only for the other man to sink back to the ground, cursing in his native language as his legs had seemingly turned to jelly with the agony.

"You need Mina and Henry…" Tom said as he looked up to scan the battlefield, hoping to catch a glimpse of the two, or perhaps Nemo's main ship doctor Roshan, seeing no one in his immidiate sight, Sawyer removed his bandana to try and wrap the injury,hoping he could stem the bleeding as best he could, the grunts of pain stabbing into the American's heart, even though him and the captain were not as close as Nemo was with Jekyll or Tom himself was with Quartermain, he still respected the seaman greatly.

Nemo cursed again as Tom dragged him away from the corpse of the animal, settling him down on smoother ground in what Sawyer hoped was a cleaner spot, he was no doctor, but he knew that getting Nemo away from the smoke and most of the debre couldn't hurt.

Skinner noticed the two and called for Mina and Henry who he spotted coming over a small hill of what used to be a office building "Nemo is really hurt!"

Mercifully there was a bag of medical supplies in the automobile which had been parked not far from the battle scene and a crew member made haste in grabbing it as Mina pulled a blanket out to settle Nemo on who by this point was in too much pain to even begin to form English words.

Sawyer held Nemo's hand, hands calloused from the years from practicing with his gun, but to the Nemo they were soft, childishly so, and offered a needed tether to sanity, reminding him of his passed son, the man who Nemo had been, had held the boys hand as he died from grevious injuries and could not help but hold on tighter for both Sawyer's comfort and his own.

"Is Nemo gonna…die?" came a soft whisper from the agents lips, and if Henry did not have his all too sensitive hearing, he might not have heard it at all.

"I will make sure he doesn't" a light smile appeared on the doctor's face even as his heart felt like lead with the question, Nemo had risked life and limb to save him during the mission in Mongolia, facing against Dante who had overdosed on Henry's elixir, Nemo fought fiercly, only for it to knock him harshly to the floor, and afterwards having to half-drag-half-carry Henry to safety after such an experience, there were no words for a friendship like that.

Nemo's arm felt as someone had poured acid on it, throbbing and burning, a part of him fearing what he would see if he looked, but the captain did his best to remain still to ease doctor Jekyll and Ms Harkers burden as they tended to his shredded flesh.

Tom gulped as Mina pulled a syringe from the bag and some disinfectant, the woman looked grim, both would be agony to apply.

Nemo could not fight back the almost-scream as he was not only injected with a rabies vaccine by Mina, but in the same breath had disinfectant poured on his wound by Henry, no doubt both trying to avoid causing more pain than was unavoidable by doing both in unison.

Pain was a certainty, Nemo knew this and did his best to focus his mind on something else, thinking about his beloved machines was impossible, so the captain willed his eyes open, hoping something at least partaily pleasant would be in his sights, only to be met with Sawyer's guilt ladden face.

The boy didn't need to blame himself, Nemo would need to remedy that look as soon as he was able, the captain felt he should have been more careful, but the animal was far more intelligent than anyone could guess, and Nemo could only be grateful it had not gone after someone else who might have been killed because they had no weapon or special ability to put between them and the creature.

A soft feminine hand went to Nemo's brow, Mina was trying to use some of her vampiric powers to try and ease some of the pain as Henry sewed up what he could with what little was in the bag, the doctors hands somehow steady despite how nothing else about him was.

MIna chewed her upper lip, a nervous habit she had never quiet broken, she could see how pale Nemo had become, and he was sweating from the strain, she prayed that her abilities would at least slow his heart down from the rapid pace it was going "You will be alright" the vampiress tried to comfort, only to watch in growing horror as the captains head lulled off to the side suddenly.

Nemo drifted into unconciousness.

[so-journeying]

This should scare the crap out of most of us, but we might just shrug it off like we normally do everything someone has pointed out in us. I actually used this version of spelling: "fane" in my original post.

But subsequently corrected it, which is a thing GOD prompted me to look into, I know this because I'm not in the habit of correcting something which is accepted as correct by spellcheck.

I don't fix what ain't broke, unless I want to make it more efficient, and there is nothing more inefficient than distrusting spellcheck's greenlight. I'm not that much of a perfectionist. GED

Well I finally arrived at feign, which means "pretense" [pretending]

Slam it all together, this is a warning to us all from GOD.

HE's said it many times in Scripture, this is what hypocrisy is:

Going through the motions, thinking this pretense is good enough for GOD, WHO demands a pure heart that is totally devoted to HIM.

You want to know why I confess my sins, and keep looking in Scripture, even though all it does is splice up things in me?!

Pastor "self-obsession makes no sense, stop looking at yourself:" Do you even know what the Bible is here to do??? Because it is what GOD prescribes in SCRIPTURE to do. It is actually what GOD's WORD does to us, it unearths sin in our heart of hearts.

So those who presume it is a self-obession has never stopped to consider the purpose of the Bible & it's effect on a person, it is not some wellspring for sermons to yell at other people.

It doesn't matter if we: "yell directions to do battle with the devil..." we're still yelling, which is as one Lay Pastor said, "if a stranger yells long enough, my patience is going to run out & I'm going to want to tackle him to the floor & punch him in the face, it's in my nature."

That is a true sentiment for every wo/man/child, just fyi..

the yellers who think they are getting thru to people, we are not getting anything pass the pride that will fight you to the ground

It triggers fight or flight: we tend to yell back or walk away

And I think that is why I don't enjoy squirmishes, where preachers think that yelling amounts to avoiding the label of ear-feather, it's one big messy exchange, back & forth one week after another.