#like here we’re still early on and its so clear that she’s out of her element and not picking up (potentially obvious) things

[manga-panels-daily]

[mynqzo]

my insane batshit gritty semi-realistic sapphic reimagining of barbie and the three musketeers

okay so many people were confused on if that last drawing of mine was just an oc named barbie or whatever but im here to tell you no! its my insane reimagining of the corinne in the movie barbie and the three musketeers, but sapphic and insane. so today I’m going to dump on you my insane reimagining of barbie and the three musketeers in a semi realistic gritty setting where they’re all sapphic and when they become musketeers they instead work to overthrow the monarchy. this is not a joke I've been thinking about this for months. like i will take alexandre dumas legacy and make it so gay and barbie.

okay so first things I thought of were weapons and such and what they could be replaced with in this setting cause most of the characters have things like ribbons and fans as weapons (and while that's so slay and I love that/never want that to change in the movie, I wanna make it semi-realistic in this gritty reimagining). so corinne’s weapon in the movie is a rapier so we’re keeping that. viveca has those two long ribbons (I’m sure they have a name but I forgot them sobs) and I think in my head she would have a two whips instead, whip dual wielder ohooo. renée has a slingshot (honestly so lame of the movie to give her that) and in my head she has a musket or pistol. aramina has two fans and I think replacing those with daggers would be really swag. and just to be clear all the characters in this version are aged up to be in their late twenties to early thirties.

for corinne, the story will follow the traditional ‘the three musketeers’ storyline but instead corinne is actively held back by her mother from going to paris and becoming a musketeer because her mother believes she’ll fall into the same fate as her father did and die. so she instead sneaks out because she feels like if she became a successful musketeer she could establish a comfortable life for her mother. in my head she's kind of like a cocky playboy kinda character where she's a little full of herself but has a lot of drive to find out what happened to her father and how he came to pass but also to succeed so she can take care of her mother better. like she's essentially the person who would ask you to fence shirtless because she wants to prove that she doesn't need armour.

for aramina I feel like her concept of a hopeless romantic can be made more complex if added with religious calling like for aramis in the original three musketeers. like she has a deeply religious upbringing but she cant stop falling in love with people and getting into trouble about it and it especially shows when she meets corinne and the others and; you guessed it, falls in love with them too. a nice mix of guilt and romance. she could have been a faithful follower of the church and been a nun but fell in love with one of the nuns and was caught and therefore shunned and punished, but she kept doing it again and again and her behavior became too obnoxious for the church to allow so they kicked her out, and she’s still plagued by this guilt while also wanting to follow her heart. she essentially ended up as a maid because her church rejected her and her family refused to take her back in on account of her sinning (rip) so she's essentially trying to find purpose in life while also overcoming this insane guilt she's carrying with her for her own desires.

renée’s story in my head follows that of a noble who then became a street musician and eventual musketeer. in the original musketeer story, athos was married to milady de winter [who was the villain] and attempted to kill her after discovering she was a criminal and then he became a drunkard about it because it made him so sad. for renée, she could have been married to a wealthy man that her family arranged her to marry but he was like, a bad guy and wasn’t really nice to her etc and also was a criminal on the run, so she tried to kill him because she was sick of his shit but her kill attempt ended up with her being fought off by him and excommunicated by her and his family (because they dont know he’s a criminal) so she ended up as a street musician and that lead to her being a maid in the palace and you know the drill.

viveca, the same as was in the movie and book as porthos, loves fashion and clothing and is always dressed super dapper and i feel like this could easily make her be a seamstress in the palace who directly works with the royal family when it comes to making them garments (alongside being a maid). she would know the internal workings of the royal family and be the person who could spy on the politics of everything the easiest out of everyone. i feel like she can put up a facade very well with the royal family where she can act like she’s totally into what theyr doing and not totally planning to go against them at any point like at all.

essentially they work for the palace as maids, one way or another, and do all the shenanigans of protecting the prince from getting assassinated by snooping around and whatnot only for them to turn around and be the people who go out of their way to assassinate the prince because they quickly realize that he’s kind of a shit head. they essentially side with the group of people planning the assassination which leads them into meeting a group of rebels and people who protest the royal family. there’s this journey to realize that the true villain of the story is renée ex husband she tried to super kill who became an advisor to the prince and king after the assassination attempt (and the old advisor was kicked to the curb). so the ex-husband is now doing evil whispery advisor nonsense where he’s trying to convince the prince that the musketeers all are actually planning his assassination (even if its true like how dare you sir ex-husband) and that he should execute them publicly and then provided a bunch of false evidence to ‘prove’ (like its True they do wanna take down the prince but like yknow). and its like a whole thing. during this all they all fall in love and form a sapphic polycule and its complicated and nasty and oof.

thanks for coming to my ted talk.

[romione-trope-fest]

Thunderstorms

Title: Thunderstorms

Author: Mertronus

Tropes: OOTP Missing Moment & Cockblocker Harry

Summary: A thunderstorm shakes things up inside Number Twelve Grimmauld Place

Rated T

Word Count: 1190

No Trigger Warnings…unless thunderstorms aren’t your thing

A loud clap of thunder sounded throughout the house, and the room was momentarily illuminated by a flash of lightning. Hermione pulled the blanket closer around her as she tried her best to read through the storm, but the truth was, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was dark, gloomy, and spooky on its own. Add a raging summer thunderstorm to the mix…

And it was downright awful.

Hermione threw her book onto her bed as another clap of thunder sounded. She looked over to the other bed where Ginny slept. Ginny could sleep through anything.

Much like your brother, Hermione thought with a sigh.

The thought of Ron had Hermione on her feet, wrapping her dressing gown around her and shoving her feet into her slippers. If a book couldn’t distract her, maybe Ron could.

Ron and Harry…

Yes, she would find the boys and they would keep her mind off the storm.

Hermione thought that the house was quiet given the amount of occupants in it…surely they weren’t all asleep already?

No, she knew that at the very least, Harry and Ron were awake. They never went to bed early.

She crept toward the stairs to head to the next floor where the boys’ bedroom was, but as she passed the drawing room, a flash of red hair caught her eye. She quickly redirected her steps and poked her head into the room.

Ron sat in the corner playing a solitary game of chess. When her feet hit a creaky floorboard, his head snapped up.

“Hey,” he called out quietly. “Y’alright?”

“Yeah,” Hermione said entering the room fully. “I’m fine. What are you doing in here alone?” She perched on the sofa closest to where Ron sat. “Where is everyone?”

Ron sat back in the chair and stretched. His too-short pajama shirt lifted a bit when his long arms stretched over his head, and Hermione caught a glimpse of her best friend’s pale, flat stomach. It was littered with freckles, as was every other part of Ron’s body that Hermione had seen, and she could just make out a thin, light trail of red hair leading down toward—

“Hermione?”

“Hm, what?” Hermione jumped and stared at Ron wide-eyed.

“I said Ginny’s asleep I suspect?”

“Yes,” she squeaked, then cleared her throat. “Yes, yes Ginny’s already asleep. In our room. Where I just was…in bed. My bed. Where did you say everyone was?”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Mum and Dad are in bed, Fred and George are doing Godric knows what in their room, and last I saw Harry he was with Buvkbeak and Sirius.”

“Oh?”

Ron nodded. “Yeah. I came down here to give them a moment. Felt like Harry might need some time with his Godfather before we head back to school.”

“Yeah,” Hermione sighed. The constant worry about Harry sometimes plagued her. At least here, at Grimmauld, not only was Harry safe, but there were so many others to worry over him as well.

“What about you?” Ron asked as he stood to join her on the small sofa. “Can’t sleep?”

Their legs brushed as he sat, and her breath caught. Even with all of the times she and Harry had touched or bumped into one another in some way, and yet she never felt the way she did when Ron was so much as a foot away from her. In the same room even.

“No,” Hermione said pulling her legs up onto the sofa and wrapping her arms around them. She rested her head on her knees and looked at Ron. “Can’t sleep.”

A roll of thunder sounded in the distance and Hermione watched the realization cross Ron’s eyes. “The storm.” Hermione nodded. “You’ve never liked storms.” Hermione shook her head. “I think it’s passing though,” Ron offered.

Hermione shrugged. “I think we’re still in for a long night.” As if to verify her thoughts, thunder sounded and it was much louder than it had been just a few moments before…closer. Hermione itched to move closer to Ron, but that would mean admitting that she was even more scared than she’d ever let on.

Ron shifted on the sofa, angling his body to face her. “Hermione if—”

Just then several claps of thunder rang out so loudly that the house seemed to shake from the sound alone. Hermione shrieked and jumped, then hid her face as she tried to calm herself from the fright.

It’s just a storm…nature…happens all the time…nothing to be afraid of. Pull yourself together Granger!

“Shhh, it’s alright,” a soft voice cooed in her ear. She buried her face in deeper and took a shaky breath.

It wasn’t until the smell of Ron invaded her senses that she registered where she was.

His hands were rubbing her back, his arms wrapped around her. Her face was buried in his chest as her hands grasped his shirt for dear life. His warm thighs were under her bum…

Hermione had literally lept into Ron’s lap.

With wide eyes, she raised her face to look up at Ron. She mentally prepared herself for the teasing, the jokes…but she was only met with a look of concern.

“Y’alright?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

“M’sorry,” she mumbled, moving to get herself off her lap.

Ron’s arms tightened around her. “It’s okay. But are you okay?”

Hermione gazed at Ron, his face no more than an inch from hers. Thunder sounded outside, but she never felt safer.

“I am now,” she whispered.

One side of Ron’s mouth quirked up in a lopsided grin, and Hermione’s eyes drifted down to his lips. She wondered how it would feel to press her lips to his…just once. She wasn’t sure if she was leaning into him, or if he was leaning into her.

Or if they were simply leaning into one another.

Time seemed to stop as their mouths seemed to be no more than a breath apart. She could smell the sweet chocolate on his breath. Another breath and—

“That was a loud one, wasn’t it?” Harry called as he entered the drawing room. Hermione jumped up at the first sound of his voice and turned to act as if she were looking out of the window. “You alright, Hermione?”

“Fine,” she breathed out as she tried her best to reign in every emotion that was coursing through her body.

“That last hit of thunder spooked Buckbeak so bad, Sirius and I had a rough time settling him.”

Hermione turned from the window and found that Harry had taken her place on the sofa beside a very red Ron.

“He’s alright now?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Harry answered, closing his eyes and resting his head back on the sofa. “Yeah, he’s fine now.”

“Good,” Hermione nodded. “Well, I’m going off to bed. You two need to do the same.”

Without another glance at Ron, Hermione hurried out of the room.

[bachissidehoe]

catalyst - chigiri h.

chapter 4 of 7 in the blue lock band series. chapter 1. chapter 2. chapter 3. chapter 5. chapter 6. chapter 7.

synopsis: chigiri arrives to pre-show early, running into y/n, and decides to finally take his chance with her, providing her with a distraction from his bandmate she can't seem to stop crushing on. and for some reason, y/n is extra desperate for those guitarist fingers.

warnings: smut; penetration; unprotected sex; degradation; praise; teasing; multiple orgasms; overstimulation; rough sex; dominant!chigiri; submissive!reader; fem reader; minors DNI

disclaimer: all songs referenced are credited to THE DEEP END

w.c. 3.6k

A night with Sae was all she needed to get more information out of him, to understand him better, to the point where y/n finds herself working on a Sae-specific article. After “talking to” Sae, y/n barged into Reo’s office the next morning to tell him her idea- to make a series diving into each of the band members- including their history, their likes, their favorite parts of being in the band- anything a potential fan would be interested to know about them. 

For example, Sae remains insistent on “Look at the Mess You Made” being in the setlist, something y/n didn’t understand before, but now she knows that Sae feels proud that he wrote it and likes to show it off to the crowd. Though he doesn’t act emotional, Sae has talent, and he enjoys when people recognize it. 

So now y/n sits, working diligently on her writing while she waits for the boys to arrive to begin preparing for tonight’s show. 

“Hey, y/n.” 

She looks up, met with a familiar pair of pink eyes that always seem to have a glint of mischievousness in them. Today is no different.

“Hyooooooma~” She sings, earning a bright smile from the pretty lead guitarist. 

Chigiri’s always been a difficult one to pin down, he’s so flirty and cute, but she can never tell when- or if- he’s joking. Back before the band got famous and y/n developed a close friendship with Isagi, he always acted like he was jealous, but it was always followed up with laughs. Regardless, y/n has adapted to Chigiri’s cutesy, funny personality, and honestly, he’s insanely enjoyable to be around. 

Since y/n started working for Blue Lock, she’s actually been the closest with Chigiri. They hang out a lot, joke and laugh together, always grabbing food or hanging out after practice, and he’s always the first to high five her after a performance. 

“Why are you here early?” Chigiri asks, settling into the beanbag chair opposite y/n, taking his acoustic guitar out of its case. 

“I could ask the same for you.” Y/n replies. 

“Uh, well I asked, so you first.” He grins.

“Fine. I’m working on an article.” She admits, turning her laptop around to show him. 

“‘Bout what?” 

“I’ll tell you after you tell me why you’re here.” 

“Fine.” He strums a few chords on his guitar. “I wanted to practice a new song. I know we’re still on tour, but I’m really excited about this one. We’ve been working on it here and there- but I finished it and wanted to practice.” 

“Can I hear it?” 

“Ah ah ah~ your turn. Tell me what you’re writing about.” 

She sighs dramatically, as if it’s exhausting and impossible to meet his demand. “It’s about Sae.” 

Chigiri tilts his head. “Why?” He asks, sounding slightly annoyed. 

“I’m doing an article about each of you and publishing it to your social media. You know, helping the fans get to know each of you. You didn’t see the Isagi one?” 

“No, guess I didn’t. That’s cool though.” He pauses. “When’s mine?” 

She shrugs. “Gotta like, get to know you better I guess. Spend some time with you or do an interview I dunno.” It’s not entirely true, considering she knows Chigiri more than well enough to write an article about him. But after her recent interaction with the band’s drummer, she was particularly excited to work on this one.

“When did you spend time with Sae?” He chuckles, though it’s clear there’s a hint of nervousness. 

She stops, peeking up at him from her laptop. “Um, I dunno the other day- why don’t you play me that song you wrote.”

“It’s just that you and Sae don’t seem to be that close.” 

“We’re not. What’s the song called?” 

“What did you guys even do?” 

“Just like vibed. Is it an acoustic song?” 

“Y/n.” 

“Hyoma.” She breathes. Maybe she should have approached it better. It’s not like she has a way out of this now, but she would have much preferred never speaking of her encounter with Itoshi Sae ever again. Not because it was bad, obviously, but because it probably shouldn’t have happened. 

“Did you hook up with Sae?” He asks, an eyebrow raised. 

“Why would that be the first thing you jump to?” She scoffs, as if she’s offended. 

“Because I’m right, aren’t I?” He twirls a strand of his long pink hair around his finger. 

She sighs. 

“So you’re writing an article about him because you guys fucked?” 

“No, I’m writing an article about him because that’s the plan Reo and I discussed.” She lowers her voice. “And we also happen to have fucked.” She says through the corner of her mouth. 

“I knew it!” 

“Can you just not say anything about it, please? It just kinda happened. But I got to learn more about him, so it was helpful for this task, in a way.” She pauses. “Now play me your song.” 

Chigiri chuckles. “Alright, whatever. But just know I’m sure I could do better than Sae. If an Isagi distraction is what you’re looking for.”

Y/n groans. “Nooooo that’s not itttttt.” She drags out her words. But to be fair, fucking Sae did help a lot with her Isagi problem. Same with Bachira. For a few days or so, she hardly thought about Isagi at all. 

Also, after fucking Sae, it’s become more apparent that there’s no way Isagi would want to date her, considering she seems to be making her way through his entire band. 

“Whatever.” He says with a light shrug, beginning to strum some chords on his guitar. 

Chigiri Hyoma is the epitome of a good guitarist, exactly what a rock band would be looking for. He’s got the long hair, the sarcastic attitude, and those fast fingers that never seem to miss a note. Come to think of it, as y/n watches his expert fingers pluck the strings so delicately yet so dominantly- she can’t help but shift a bit in her seat. 

“So it goes like- all I am is a catalyst, all I am is a way back home~” He sings it, though doesn’t use his actual singing voice, more like humming without trying. 

“You’re not actually singing?” She chuckles, but still can’t take her eyes off how those damn fingers move. Would they be better than Isagi’s? They both play guitar, after all, but somehow it just looks different when Chigiri’s playing. 

“Huh? I’m not just gonna sing at you. Cringe.” 

Y/n laughs. “You’re literally in a band? You sing for a living?” 

“Not really, I do backup vocals. My singing voice is just okay. Plus, even if you have a good singing voice it’s still cringe as hell to sing at someone.” He points his index finger at her, as if he’s accusing her of something. 

And y/n watches that finger, intently, her eyes dazed as she slips deeper into her forbidden daydream about him- Chigiri Hyoma, the lead guitarist of Blue Lock, known for his speed on the guitar and his amazing live guitar solos. She wonders how many girls have gotten to experience him like that, with those fingers. 

“Uh? Y/n?” He waves his hand in front of her, forcing her back to reality. An unfortunate reality where he’s not fucking her. Maybe hooking up with Sae wasn’t enough to calm her insatiable horniness.

“Oh, sorry.” She chuckles. “Zoned out.” 

“Uh. Huh.” He says, raising an eyebrow as he watches her cheeks become dusted in pink. She nervously looks away from him, her eyes darting to the ceiling. “What were ya thinking about? Hm?” 

Y/n just shrugs, becoming more heated by the second. She doesn’t understand why it’s suddenly like this, why she feels like she could pounce on him at any time. Sure, he’s hot, she’s always thought so, but she’s never felt like a cat in heat around him. Maybe it’s what he said about being an Isagi distraction, or how he played the guitar, or how he looked at her-

“Nothing.” She replies quietly, as if she’s not so sure. 

His voice is softer now too, quieter, more intense than usual. “I dunno y/n.” A smirk begins to dance at the corners of his lips, a smirk y/n can’t see since she’s so adamant about looking anywhere but his face. “Remember the other night when you told me to take a chance if I saw it?”

She reflects, taking a moment to process the context he’s referring to- back in the bar, when he was drunk off his ass and she was rushing to find an excuse to leave. She doesn’t know exactly why she said that to Chigiri. She could have said anything else. But she chose to give him a reason to chase her. 

“Oh. Yeah, um. I remember.” 

Chigiri places his guitar to the side, leaning forward to grasp y/n’s wrist. She doesn’t fight it.

“Well the chance is here, and I’m taking it.” He says, swiftly pulling her forward so she stumbles, collapsing onto the beanbag chair he sits on. He grabs her hips so she lands in his lap facing him, catching her completely off guard. 

“You want this, yeah?” He stops himself, leaning forward but maintaining distance between their lips.

“Mhm.” She finds herself nodding, hoping he’ll close that gap, hoping he’ll just take her. 

“You always coulda come asked, you know I’ve always wanted you.” He places a finger under her chin, still holding her face just inches from his. It’s almost painful how he’s refusing to take the leap, it’s making her shift in his lap, making her want to just grab him and force it. 

“No- um, you were always just joking- I thought.” She leans forward slightly, but he leans back. 

“Maybe I was saying it jokingly, but I was never actually joking.” He chuckles, looking down at her as she grows more desperate by the second. 

“Okay-“ She attempts to close the gap again, but again is met with resistance. He smirks, as if it’s all a game to him. 

“Why the pouty face?” He asks, taunting her. 

“Why won’t you kiss me?” She whines.

“Oh you wanna kiss me? I couldn’t tell.” He teases her more, which leads y/n to quickly realize that he’s likely getting turned on watching her suffer like this. “You actually want me, y/n?” 

“Yes I want you.” She sighs, attempting to lean forward once more. 

He blocks her, holding his finger to her lips. She nearly bites it out of frustration, but the teasing little prick would probably like that. 

“Okay. Beg.” He smirks, his eyes lit with a new flame, a sadistic pink fire, a strand of his gorgeous soft hair falling between his eyes.

Y/n can’t help but squeeze her legs together at his words, the pressure becoming more unbearable the more he holds out on her. It would feel pathetic to beg, which is exactly what he wants. On the other hand, if someone walks in and it forces an end to their encounter before she gets what she needs, that’s even worse. She’d rather feel pathetic than get nothing. 

“Please kiss me.” She whines.

“I don’t think you want it enough.” 

She balls her fists together, feeling her knuckles whiten from the frustration. “I do want it, fuck, I want you to kiss me and then kiss me more, then use those pretty fingers and fuck me please~” She sings, praying her pathetic attempt at pleasing his sadistic nature is enough. 

She doesn’t have time to break down the context around Chigiri’s approach to the situation, frankly she doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter what his kink is, she wants it so bad right now she’d do nearly anything to have him. She doesn’t know what’s come over her, Chigiri Hyoma just has that effect. 

And all he does is chuckle. He’s acting like he doesn’t even want her. And it’s making her more aroused with every passing second, she can practically feel her pussy dripping through the thin fabric of her clothes, her clit pulsing as it begs for some relief. 

“You were the one who told me you’re taking the chance.” She pouts, her voice coming out whiny and desperate. She doesn’t even care how she sounds anymore. 

“I’m sorry beautiful, I just can’t help but love seeing you so pathetic.” He glides a gorgeous finger through her soft silky hair. Even just the lightest touch is enough to make her shift, clasping her legs tighter together. 

“I am pathetic, Hyoma.” She sighs. “I can’t leave here without feeling you inside me.” 

“And it’s me you want? Right pretty girl?” He caresses the side of her face delicately, yet it almost feels like he’ll snap and break her. At least she hopes he does. 

“Just you, Hyoma, fuck. Please just do something, anything, or let me go so I can go think about you when I fuck mys-”

Finally, the switch that Chigiri Hyoma’s been grasping onto this entire time, through all his jokes and innuendos, through the way he watched her look at Isagi Yoichi, flips. His delicate touch turns lethal as his thumb presses into the skin of her neck, his other hand moving to grip the back of her hair with a forceful tug. And he kisses her, his lips immediately rough, wasting no time shoving his tongue between her lips like he’s splitting them apart. 

She submits entirely, letting her body go limp as the pressure from his thumb on her neck makes her vision blurry and her brain foggy. He’s only kissing her, yet she has no fight left. He’s already won, already forced her into submission before she can even think to fight. 

The only thing she can do is beg and plead, ask him for more, whine into his mouth and let him swallow every single one of her noises until his fingers press at her clothed area, clothes that are wet enough to feel like she bathed in them. 

“Please, please take them off, please Hyoma.” She whines, her jaw slack and her tongue almost hanging out, desperate to continue tasting his pretty pink lips. 

But Chigiri Hyoma- evidently- gets off more to teasing her than he would if he actually fucked her. 

“Ah, but do you deserve it?” He snickers, his face disappearing into her neck. His tongue slurps and sucks at her skin, his teeth grazing her like he’s threatening to suck her blood. The others held back with leaving visible marks, even if they did leave a few hickeys only to be seen under her clothes, but Chigiri clearly has a point to prove. He ruins her neck with dark purple marks, littering them on every part of her exposed skin as his fingers dance across her clothed entrance. 

“I do~ I do deserve it~” She whines, the pain of his teeth on her skin melting away from the short bursts of pleasure she gets when his fingers only lightly touch her clit through her soaked panties. 

“I wonder how fast you’ll cum~” He whispers into her ear, biting and sucking on the lobe. 

“Please.” She whispers, her desperate attempts at begging proving not to be as effective as she’d like. 

He finally slips a finger under her panties, gathering her arousal on the pads of his two fingers as he plays with her soggy lower lips.

“Ah~” She gasps, her breath stuck in the back of her throat and her mouth parted as her eyes blur with a layer of frustrated tears. 

He teases, slipping the tip of a single finger into her hole, inciting a short whine before removing it just as quickly as he started it. Instead, he moves it to press on her clit, rubbing light circles as she bites her lip, all while he still attacks her neck, making no attempts to end his assault. 

“Fuck~” She feels her muscles tense up, a roaring flame hurdling through her body at top speed. And she cums, just from him pressing her clit a few times, unable to handle the teasing anymore. 

“Ah, babygirl, you came just from that? Poor thing, can’t handle me.” He rasps into her ear, refusing to let her come down from her orgasm before finally separating her dripping pussy lips and forcing two fingers inside until they physically can’t go in further. 

“Hyoma~” She sings it like a lullaby, her vision completely clouded as his fingers provide her with nothing short of pure ecstasy, fucking her hard and fast, swishing around between her gummy walls, exposing her to the magic fingers she’s been desperately begging for this entire time. 

It only takes a moment before she’s cumming around his fingers again, performing a feat she didn’t think was possible. She’s never cum back to back like that in her entire life. 

“Fuck, Hyoma~ I-” Her orgasm rips through her used body like a sword cutting her in half, the fluids rushing to coat his already soaking fingers. 

“Fuccckkk~ I love those pretty sounds babygirl.” He coaxes her through her high before removing his fingers, moving his lips back to connect with her tired ones. “I think I’m ready to fuck the shit outta you~” 

She can only whine, a bead of drool dripping from the corner of her mouth as he pulls away from her, focusing his attention on unzipping his pants to free his bulging cock. He’s been teasing her, sure, but teasing himself as well. 

“Yes, yes, whatever you have~ I can take it~”

Before she can process it, her panties are discarded, and his cock is ramming into her dripping walls relentlessly, bullying into her like he attempts to break her. 

“Ah, fuck~ That’s a good girl. I can handle a little more than you can, though.” He chuckles, placing his thumb over her neck once again, enough to make her gasp. “I won’t cum just from a simple touch, unlike you.” He degrades her, but praises her at the same time. Such a tease. Y/n doesn’t know if she’s been more turned on in her entire life. 

He holds her in his lap, pounding upward into her, every thrust forcing ungodly noises from deep within her throat. 

“Look at you, that pretty cunt taking me so well~” 

“Mhm~” She groans, his cock ramming her g-spot as he turns her inside out. She didn’t think it was possible for her to cum so much and so quickly, but it seems like Chigiri Hyoma unlocked a teasing kink y/n didn’t know she had. “G’na, g’na cum, mmm, again~” She whines, overstimulation tears dribbling down her face. 

“That’s a good girl~” He hums, holding her limp body as she cums for a third time, sucking in his cock like she desperately needs it to survive the stimulation. 

He doesn’t let up, though, forcing his cock into her over and over again, somehow reaching deeper when y/n thought it wasn’t possible. But she needs it, she needs his cock to destroy her and tell her she can take it, she needs his cum to fill every inch of her needy cunt. 

“That’s it, getting close babygirl~ fuck~” He groans, flipping her over in the beanbag chair so she’s on her back, never letting his dick slip from her slick hole, his long hair falling in front of his face. He holds her limp body like he owns it, ramming into her even harder and faster than he was before. 

“Cumming~ agh~ gonna fill you up, fuck~” He finally finishes, releasing his thick load inside her until she’s dripping, sliding his cock out of her and watching his milky cum slide out with it. 

Y/n’s head falls back, her jaw slack and her vision still blurry. She can only whine every time he says anything. If she still has to work during this show, she might just get fired. 

“Oh, you poor thing. No more. Don’t worry.” He chuckles, sliding her panties up her legs and under her skirt, lightly ruffling her already messy hair. 

“Um, did I interrupt something?” Another voice is heard from the door, causing y/n to suddenly force herself back into reality and snap her head toward the entrance to the dressing room. 

“Nah Isagi, was just finishing up. You can have her back now, if you need her.” Chigiri taunts, zipping up his pants and standing up from where y/n still lays almost lifeless. 

“Yoichi…” She manages, watching Isagi awkwardly scratch behind his head. Her gaze shifts to Chigiri, who seems to have no issue talking about her like she’s an object to be passed around. 

“I, uh, it’s not like she was necessarily mine anyway…” He says with a light chuckle, his cheeks still flushed from catching the tail end of her and Chigiri’s interaction. 

“Hear that y/n? You deserve better anyway.” 

“Let’s not do that-” Isagi starts, but y/n interrupts, almost like the post nut clarity finally forces her to think logically. 

“No, no. I’ll do what I want. If I’m a slut being used by the whole band, then so be it.” She sits up with a smirk. “I kind of like it that way anyway.” 

[musicalmoritz]

I am hopeful about how the anime will adapt TeruAoi

Hear me out, one of the most common complaints about the writing of the manga is that Teru’s crush on Aoi doesn’t make any sense. There’s still the possibility he could like Akane instead (or the even less likely possibility he could like both), but right now it’s strongly looking like his crush is Aoi. I know, I wanted gay people too, but this is what we’re working with. There are hints throughout the manga that he likes her, but most of those come in the form of jokes where he’s trying to get a rise out of Akane. That actually provides more evidence towards him liking Akane than Aoi, since in those scenes he’s focused on how Akane is feeling rather than Aoi herself. So if AidaIro intend on us to pick up on TeruAoi, they’ve done a very poor job. I’d argue that the ship thrives off of heteronormativity, most straight readers (and even many queer ones) will automatically assume Teru likes Aoi and not Akane simply because he’s a boy and she’s a girl. It’s a reasonable assumption, queer rep still isn’t common enough to be the default. But it’s not a great basis for building an actual relationship, even a one-sided one

Look at Kou and Nene, that’s a one-sided relationship that was written well while still making it clear who we’re supposed to be rooting for. TBHK isn’t a love triangle like Twilight, we’re not meant to have equal fuel for both sides because AidaIro ultimately care that we support HanaNene. Kou and Nene have had numerous scenes building their friendship and, by extension, Kou’s feelings for her. However, most of these scenes are intercepted by HanaNene and Mitsukou moments. Their most notable ship moment, the donut scene, was used so that Nene could cheer Hanako up. This method gives Kounene plenty of buildup to where Kou’s feelings for her make sense without disrupting either of the main pairings. It’s also remedied by the fact that Kou gets another love interest fairly early on, so he’s not stuck in the role of the “second choice” for long. That was never really part of his arc but I digress

A lot of my points here are up for interpretation or preference, some fans don’t have a problem with how TeruAoi has been built up. It’s not going to be engame, so some might even say it doesn’t matter. But with Teru’s feelings for her being such a consistent thing throughout the manga, I’d say it’s fairly important that they’re set up well. It’s central to the dynamic of the Sunflower Troupe too, which is even more important. Teru’s feelings for Aoi play into the Terukane rivalry that is so integral to their dynamic, and towards motivating Teru during the Red House arc. Keep in mind, if TeruAoi were well-written, the fandom wouldn’t be so divided on whether or not Aoi is Teru’s crush

There is still the chance that it’s been kept vague for a reason and Teru is actually gay. Please AidaIro it’s not too late-

Despite the negative tone of everything you just read, I love TeruAoi. I’m content with it being canon, although I would rather have Terukane if I’m being honest. I’m a multishipper though, so I want to make it clear that I am by no means a TeruAoi hater. On the contrary, I think they have a lot of potential, and I hope the anime doesn’t waste the opportunity to explore that. So onto the actual point of this rant

THIS CHAPTER. The one that somewhat salvaged TeruAoi’s lazy writing. The chapter that brought TeruAoi shippers rain after a drought. We’re going to see it animated in October. And I am going insane over that

The anime is known for being a poor adaptation of the manga, but in my opinion it has its benefits and its drawbacks. One of the biggest drawbacks is Teru, they completely cut out the arc that delves into his childhood and dynamic with Kou. We lost a lot of his characterization and he essentially became a background character. My boy deserves better than that. But the two new trailers showed a lot of Teru from what I remember (it’s impossible for me to miss my king), and I’m taking that as a sign that they’ve realized his potential as a character. We might get the Young Exorcist arc in season 2, since it’s incredibly important to Kou and Teru’s development both as characters and as a sibling dynamic. This might be wishful thinking but now that they realize people like this series and want to see more of it, maybe they’ll start doing the side characters justice

One of the good points, and this is going to be very controversial, is AoiAoi. The number one complaint I’ve seen about the anime (besides the exclusion of the Young Exorcist arc), is that they nerfed Akane. I disagree. Yes, anime Akane is nothing but a goofy looking nerd who simps for Aoi, but that’s essentially what his character was in the first few arcs of the manga. They adapted him accurately for what they covered. You could just as well complain that Aoi is nothing but Nene’s popular best friend in the anime. That’s true, but only because they haven’t gotten to the Grim Reaper arc yet. The anime notoriously didn’t get to the Clock Keepers arc, but since we’re getting that in season 2, we’ll be seeing a lot more of anime Akane soon. And I don’t think he’s going to disappoint

“But how did they do AoiAoi well if they didn’t adapt much?” I’m so glad you asked. Not many people have pointed this out, but the anime clearly favored AoiAoi in comparison to the other side characters. They added in a lot of scenes that weren’t in the manga, such as their interaction in the garden and the “I’d cut off my own head” scene. I can’t remember them adding in many other scenes, besides Yako’s backstory, so they must have wanted some fan service. The anime really leans into the romance element (for better or worse), which is where I think they could do right by TeruAoi

We’ll be getting the iconic convenience store chapter in October, before season 2 of the anime comes out. This means we’ll get a meaningful TeruAoi moment animated before any meaningful AoiAoi moments have been animated, though AoiAoi has already been setup through the first seasons of TBHK and ASHK. So anime-onlys already know Akane and Aoi have feelings for each other, but before that gets explored in a serious manner, they’ll learn that Teru also potentially has feelings for Aoi. This is good, this will put the idea in viewers heads that Teru likes Aoi before he even jokes about liking her in the main series. The first time his feelings were mentioned in the manga was during the exam chapter, and that won’t get animated until season 3 or 4. So until then, they’ll already have the concept of TeruAoi. And they’ll be introduced to that concept through a serious episode rather than a gag scene of Teru threatening Akane

This will set up the group dynamic well while still upholding AoiAoi as the one we’re supposed to root for. They were established first, and we’ll get more insight into Akane’s feelings during the Clock Keepers arc. It won’t come at the expense of AoiAoi, but we’ll be shown a more serious TeruAoi scene to build them up as competition. That will balance out the two dynamics

I’m also hoping they add in a few scenes of TeruAoi the way they did with AoiAoi. The two aren’t really friends until the Grim Reaper arc, but they could throw in a few gag scenes of Teru sucking up to Aoi the way he’s mentioned to do in the manga. A scene of him being overly friendly to her in the hallway, offering to help her carry her bag, etc. And she could still shut him down in a polite way so they don’t lose the dynamic they have in the manga. I wouldn’t want them to do too much or give more confirmation of Teru’s feelings than we get at that point in the manga, but a few filler scenes could really help to build their relationship. At the very least, it would help Teru’s feelings make sense. But I’m already very optimistic since the TeruAoi episode of ASHK is already going to give Teru’s feelings more grounding. Releasing it before the two of them interact/mention each other in the main anime is honestly the best decision they could have made. It will be pleasantly unexpected to anime-onlys who haven’t seen the characters interact before and don’t know what their relationship is in the manga

Anyways, I know a lot of people are freaking out about the anime getting a season 2 (and I understand why), but I’m trying to stay hopeful. The first season was bad, but it’s a good introduction to the series. It was how I got into tbhk, and I felt it was a good start. It was enough to get me hyperfixated after just a few episodes so it’s not THAT bad (okay, it’s kinda bad). But they still have time to fix the major mistakes they made in season 2, as long as we get the Young Exorcist arc. And either way, ASHK is going to be delightful

[echo-the-great]

Arrow and Ace [part one]

So this story is inspired by these posts here so idea credits to the internet strangers that helped my last braincell come up with ideas lol. If anyone has questions or suggestions tell me in the comments! First fic I’m doing on here lol I hope it's okay.

Also - Axel is asexual and uses he/him, Avery is aromatic and uses she/her, just wanted to make sure characters were clear.

TW: swearing, cliffhanger because this post got long. (i hate them too I'm sorry)

the warnings will change w each post depending on what’s in the chapter, there will likely be more warnings in later chapters

Happy (very late) pride because you’re valid all year round

🧡💛🤍🩵💙

(Also my art![don't repost])

{Axel}

You know how people say, “be gay, do crime”? Well, what me and my best friend, Avery, do is be gay, fight crime. Well, I’m ace and shes aro, but that's really not the point. The point is that we fight crime like badasses.

We’re also in high school. And our school is…well, its certainly a place, that’s for sure.

At first it was heaven compared to middle school, although that place is universally a nightmare and a half, so the bar is pretty low. But after a while, everything just fell back into the same old school routine we’ve been stuck with since kindergarten;

Get up at an ungodly early hour in the morning, sit in a chair for several hours straight getting math shoved in your face, go home, shove more math down your throat and get minimal sleep while the school yells at you to sleep more.

Until, one day, the routine was broken.

I was at Avery’s house. We were playing cards and as I gathered them up after we finished a round, I pulled out an ace of hearts from the deck. “Look, it’s me.” I grinned as I held up the card for her to see. She rolled her eyes before grabbing her brother’s toy bow and arrow. “And me” she said simply as she stuck the suction cup arrow to my forehead. I just laughed and took the arrow off my face, flipping her off with my right hand.

She flipped me off right back with her left, laughing as well. We fist bumped, rings clinking together quietly and I went back to shuffling the cards.

It had been raining all afternoon pretty hard, but it sounded like it had stopped or at least slowed down. I glanced out the window, and the rain had in fact stopped. But that wasn't the only thing I noticed. There was a moving truck parked outside the house across the street.

"Hey, Avery?" I said, still looking out the window.

"Yeah? What's up?" she asked, coming over to me.

"Fresh meat." I joked with a slight smirk. She rolled her eyes at me and looked out the window, raising her eyebrows. "Huh. So it is." she turned to look at me. "Moving into the Robinson's old house. I wonder what the new people will be like." she shrugged and sat back down on her bed. "You think we should go say hi when they get all moved in?"

I only shrugged in response to her question because I knew full well she'd 'go say hi' with or without me.

"Wanna go out since the rain stopped?" I asked. She didn't really answer, just grabbed her phone off the desk and got up to go to the door. We both knew that was a yes, and we both knew what "go out" meant. I guess that's the kind of silent communication that comes with being best friends as long as we have. I followed her, grabbing my phone as well and placing my deck of cards back on her desk.

[to be continued...]

[i-eat-worlds]

Starcross Part 6

We’re Back to the present day! This chapter is early because I’ll be going to do nerd shit in the woods for the weekend

Content: vomiting/emeto, food mentions, fear of punishent, conditioned whumpee, comfort

Free Space, AFS Starcross, 5/5/4763 Ziar sat in the shower, letting the sonic waves wash over her. The vibrations were soothing, though not like warm water would’ve been. She was saving her water ration for Kim, since they’d need a bath and she doubted they’d be able to shower on their own. Stasis was exhausting, and their ankle couldn't be comfortable to stand on.

Sighing, she reached out her hand to turn off the shower. As much as she wanted to stay, there was stuff to do. The prospect of a highly caffeinated beverage was starting to sound more appealing. She wrapped a towel around her waist then stepped out of the shower, using the railings to support herself until she could reach her crutches.

The showers and the berths had the advantage of being close, just a couple meters across the hallway, and Ziar gratefully collapsed back into the mattress. It was tempting to let her eyes close and drift off, but she forced herself to stay awake.

After a couple minutes of blissful laying down, she heaved herself back up. She needed to redress the bite wound and replace the dermafibran around her connector. Osteomyelitis was not all it was cracked up to be. When they landed, she’d needed to go out and buy more. Just another thing for the list.

Reaching under the bed, she pulled out the small box of wound care supplies she kept underneath for when she was too tired or sore to get to the infirmary. She pulled the latch open and pulled out what she’d need, grabbing the DF pack and some dressings.

Carefully, she peeled off the bandage on her upper arm. The double-crescent shaped wound was looking better than it had last night, with the bleeding stopped and wiped away. It only produced a dull throb now, and was clear of any pus or redness. And really, what more could she ask for?

She pressed another bandage over it, feeling the cold tissue growth solution it was impregnated with fill the wound. After crumpling up the trash and tossing it into the bin, she reached for the drape so she could take care of the stump. Before she could get it unfolded, her communicator buzzed with Oka’s ringtone.

This was gonna be good.

“What’cha need?”

*** The weapon had tried to eat the food. It really had.

Oka had been so nice, letting it eat real food, people food, instead of bland slurries and nutritive bricks with the texture of concrete.

Previously, it had only ever been fed people food as a treat. A scrap off the table for breaking a course record. This was so much more than that.

The meat was smokey and salty, and the fruit was sweet but also a little bit tart. This was already a lot, but the bread was fluffy and soft. Despite it being relatively small in quantity, it sat heavy in their stomach, like a bowling ball.

Just as it had opened its mouth to thank them, its stomach rolled and squeezed. Its eyes went wide as every piece of food it had just eaten came back up.

No, no, no!

Vomit splattered all over the blanket that they’d given it, chunks of meat and half-digested fruit still visible. Its throat was on fire, acid burning at the back of its mouth, as it stared in horror at the mess it had made.

In its peripheral vision, it could see Oka moving around it, and braced itself for the blow. They had provided with food, real food, good food, and it had made a mess. It had been trained to have more self control than that, to be better. It could already feel the acid burns on its hands from having to scrub the floor until it could see its face in it.

Would it even be able to stand on its ankle?

A green bag with a plastic rim appeared in front of it. “Here, use this.” They didn’t sound angry or annoyed. They must’ve been the type who enjoyed meeting it out, then. Just great.

The blanket was pulled away from their legs, and even though Ziar had given it some sort of loose fitting tunic to cover it up, it still felt entirely exposed. Goosebumps raised on its skin.“I’ll get you something clean.”

It swallowed, gripping the bag tightly as Oka dug through a cabinet. When its stomach turned again, the vomit thankfully landed in the bag. The contents were mostly bile; there wasn’t much left in its stomach for it to throw up.

Another blanket was tossed over its legs, shielding them from the cool air. “Do you want some water?”

Their words washed over it as it tried to get its mouth to work. “Yes. Thank you, sir.”

The sound of the sink felt a thousand times louder than it probably was as they filled up a small cup. Oka carefully nestled the cup in between its shaking hands. It was half full, probably in an effort to conserve water. “Take small sips, alright. I don’t want to upset your stomach more.”

It obeyed, taking small sips while they watched it. Maybe they were waiting for a functionality report? Then it hit them. It needed to clean up its mess. They wanted to see if it would be responsible and solve its own problems. They didn’t want an automaton with no thoughts. It needed to make itself useful.

The blanket was resting in a bright orange bag on the sink. It finished the last of the water so that it wouldn’t spill, then pulled the blanket away from it. While the sink wasn’t exactly close, it could make it, bad ankle notwithstanding. It pushed its legs over the edge of the bed.

It needed to be useful.

“Kim-” Oka said, stepping forward, but it was too late.

It pushed off the bed, letting its uninjured foot hit the oor st. Assuming success, it took another step.

The moment its second foot contacted the oor it crumbled, letting out a yelp as it came crashing down. Pain pulsed up its leg, and it couldn't help the tears that well up in its eyes. It knew that it wouldn’t be able to get back up.

All it did was make things worse.

Oka squatted down next to it. “It’s okay,” they said, reaching out a hand and placing it on its shoulder.

It shuddered, and they pulled their hand away. “It was-Unit KM-4682 was going to clean its…its…” it choked out, body racked by sobs.

“You don’t need to do that, aza.” It wasn’t familiar with that word. It probably meant “stupid,” if it had to guess.

All it could do was cry harder. It was falling apart, on the floor, like a fucking baby. It was weak and useless and it was a small wonder that it had been kept alive as long as it had. Maybe they were right to kill it, to remove its useless body from the universe.

“You’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” A blanket settled over its shoulders.

It pulled the edges closer, wrapping itself tighter. Oka smiled at it gently. “It’s alright, aza. I’m going to call Ziar so we can get you back up on the table, alright. You just stay still.”

It nodded. An order. Something it could do without trying to guess if it was right. Something easy.

“You’re safe now. We’re not going to hurt you,” they repeated.

It wasn't quite sure what that was supposed to mean. The weapon had always been safe, from everything but its own failures. And maybe things could be painful, maybe punishments and corrections weren’t fun, but it had never been hurt.

Still, Oka seemed to think that what was happening to it now was better. It bowed its head in respect. “Thank you, sir.”

Taglist: @whump-snob @whump-kia @itsoundslikeafury @blackberry-bloody @snakebites-and-ink

@whumpacabra @cepheusgalaxy @softvampirewhump @my-little-versaille @pigeonwhumps

@whumped-by-glitter @snaillamp @rainydaywhump @platysaurus @whumpy-daydreams

@whiskygoldwings @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @rainbowsandwhumperflies @risk606 @starfields08000

[charmingly-evil]

Just tonight

Olivia was going to murder Finn.

Olivia was sitting at a trendy restaurant that just opened in the city. Blue, neon lights dangled from the ceiling like a shower of raindrops, its dim lighting providing a cool ambiance to the room. On stage opposite the bar, a washed up looking artist strummed lazily on his guitar, pausing only to drink from his glass of whisky.

Olivia sat opposite her blind date that Finn had set her up with. Her lips were strained into a thin smile I she feigned interest at what he was talking about, while her mind imagined the multiple ways she would kick Finn’s arse at work tomorrow. What the hell was he thinking?

Her date’s name was Steven Ghett, well Dr Steven Ghett as he had reminded her countless times tonight. He was a law professor at Harvard. Apparently, he had turned down an offer to speak at an online early career’s conference at Yale, something he was quick to boast about.

Olivia was just going through the list of excuses she could make to leave right now, when he said,

“So Olivia, how is a beautiful Captain such as yourself still single?”

Then to her horror, she felt his hand slipping under her dress. Olivia immediately sprang back. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Olivia, I’m sorry, I was-“

“I don’t know how your dates go, but a guy at least buys me dinner and asks me two questions about myself before going there. I think we’re finished here,” Olivia said the last part dismissively as if she was ending an interrogation with a perpetrator. She reached for her purse, brushing the ends of her midnight blue dress down.

Steven too was standing up, protesting. “Olivia I’m sorry, please give me another chance.”

“I gave you thirty minutes, we’re done.”

Steven grabbed her wrist as she turned to go, stopping her. “Olivia-“

“You heard the lady”.

Olivia’s eyes leapt up with surprise towards the familiar face. “Elliot?”

Elliot didn’t take his eyes off her date. “Now you better let go of her, or I’ll take care of that hand for you.”

Steven’s eyes shifted between Elliot’s stone-cold gaze and his knuckles, that twitched by his side into tight fist. Steven dropped Olivia’s hand and cleared his throat, averting his gaze from Elliot.

“Olivia, you have my number.”

Then he hurried off.

Olivia huffed, shooting a glare at Elliot. He cracked her a smile. “You’re welcome.”

“I was handling it you know.”

“Hey, I don’t doubt that you would have had that arsehole head locked against the table, I just didn’t want you to cause a scene.”

Elliot shrugged off his jacket and slipped into the booth, helping himself to some fries. “So, who was that guy anyway? A date?”

“Well actually, yes,” Olivia said slowly, slipping off her purse and joining Elliot. “A friend set us up. And it’s the last time I go on a blind date. You know he spent the whole night talking about himself and didn’t ask me one question about myself? And he got my name wrong twice, he called me Lydia.”

Elliot exhaled slowly, not believing it. “Forget about him Liv.”

Elliot raised his eyes, taking her in. It may have been a blind date, but it was obvious that Olivia has gone all out for it. Her hair fell in luscious waves around her frame. She wore a midnight blue, V-neck dress, which dipped between her breasts and gathered to the side on her right like curling waves, before flowing out to the other side like a tail. Olivia wore sapphire, tear drop earrings and blue, shimmering eye shadow to compliment her dress.

Elliot could only imagine the time it took her, rushing home from work to feed Noah before getting ready for her date. It made Elliot want to find the man and punch him. “You look stunning Liv. It’s his loss for not appreciating what he had.”

Olivia dipped her head down at the compliment, her lips softening into a small smile. When she looked back up, she saw the familiar, endearing twinkle in his eye. “I wouldn’t usually say yes to meeting a stranger, not when we’re up to our necks with new cases and pushing overtime almost every night this week. But my psychologist encouraged me to ‘get out there and’…” Olivia’s voice trailed off, then she shook her head, wondering why she was telling him this. She returned her gaze to Elliot. “What about you El? This isn’t exactly your vibe.”

Olivia tilted her head to the side, referring to the velvet booths and colourful cocktails with curly plastic straws.

Elliot rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. “Well, ah, I actually was also on a blind date. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to pick the location.”

Olivia’s eyes rounded with surprise. She took a sip of her drink and said casually, her voice trying not to break, “Really? So, how did it go? Better than mine I hope.”

Elliot’s lips tilted into a faint smile. “She seemed interested in a second date. But, ah…I don’t know.” He drummed his fingers against the table, his eyes lowering to the empty whisky glass. “It didn’t feel right, you know?”

Olivia studied him for a moment. “Sometimes it can take time to form a connection. How did you meet her?”

“Fin set me up. It was the second time he had asked me if I was free to meet her, I thought I had better say yes.”

Olivia’s eyes widened with shock, as she muttered under her breath “I am going to kill Fin.” Sensing Elliot’s confusion, Olivia explained, “Fin set me up with my blind date tonight.”

Elliot took a moment to process the news, piecing together what this meant. Realisation dawned in his eyes as he whispered, “that son of a bitch. You think he set us up?”

“Well, do you think it’s a coincidence that we both had blind dates tonight, was set up by the same friend and were told to meet at this bar?”

Elliot shook his head slowly, breathing out a small chuckle. “Do me a favour will you? When you kick his arse tomorrow, take a photo.”

Olivia breathed out an incredulous laugh. “He has some nerve. What the hell was he thinking?”

Elliot shrugged. “Well, it looks like he was trying to see if he could use your failed date to set his friends up?”

“You mean to tell me that he set me up with that jackass on purpose?”

Elliot looked dubious. “I don’t know, my date wasn’t bad. She works as an oncology nurse. Intelligent, sexy, ambitious and charming.”

Olivia took a sip of her wine, pursing her lips as it went down. “That’s quite a list.”

Elliot cast her a look, an amuse smile crawling across his lips. “Is that a hint of jealousy that I detect in your tone captain?”

Olivia almost snorted. “I think you’ve had too much to drink detective.”

“Well, it didn’t matter anyway.”

“Why not?”

“She’s not you Liv.”

His words caught her off guard, like they did two years ago, when he first confessed that he loved her. Olivia’s breath caught in her throat as she struggled to respond, her mind still scrambling to process his words. Fortunately for Olivia, a waiter came by, offering Elliot a drink menu.

Elliot ordered a whiskey, then returned his gaze to Olivia, who was staring into space.

“Liv?”

Olivia startled, meeting his eyes.

Elliot continued softly, “You know, we never got to pick up our conversation…following that night at yours.”

Olivia blew out a small breath as memories from that night flashed back to her. She remembered the feeling of his body pressed against her, his smell, the way her name fell from his lips…Liv, I care for you.

Olivia remembered how she felt like she was melting into his body.

Elliot asked, “Should I be jealous of other dates?”

Olivia’s lips tilted into the tiniest of smiles at his attempt to lighten the mood. She shook her head slowly and whispered, “No.”

Olivia didn’t miss the way his face lit into a smile.

“So, you said that you weren’t ready for this back then.”

Olivia hadn’t realised that she had been nervously fiddling with the stem of the wine glass until Elliot gently reached for her fingers, stopping her. Olivia glanced down at their intertwined fingers.

Elliot asked her softly, “Liv, where are we now?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t had a chance to think about it since that night…”

Elliot caught her gaze. “And if you think about it now?”

Olivia could feel his fingers drawing circles around the back of her thumb, and it made her breath catch in her throat once more. It made it near impossible for her to think.

Finally, Olivia said, “I want to El. I really do…I just don’t know if I can trust you.”

Elliot swallow, then he said, “Okay. What if I don’t ask for your trust, but just one date?”

Olivia raised her eyebrows, curious at his suggestion. Elliot, sensing her openness, quickly encouraged her. ‘Just one date Liv, that’s all I’m asking.”

Olivia studied him closely, then said, “Alright detective, you have your chance. One date.”

Elliott’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

Olivia bit back a smile, a twinkle in her eye. “You can have me for tonight”. Then she leaned in closer, her voice a smoky whisper as she said, “So detective, what will you do with me?”

…

fun fact I dictated this entire fanfic because I'm slowly losing the functioning of my hands since I was diagnosed with neurogenic thoracic outlet syndrome. Fingers crossed and please pray for me that will work so I can get better and get back to typing more bensler!

[queenoffishingandcookies]

Currently considering the level of trauma that Rosa suffered in her early childhood, and a really weird headcanon(?) that my brain came up with. Specifically, her trauma pertaining to Beatrice and her siblings.

Then weird kind-of parallels between Beatrice’s incident and the destruction of her stuffed rabbit, Uu-tan, at the hands of Rudolf.

Spoilers for Banquet of the Golden Witch (Ep3 of Umineko) below.

Starting point was wondering if Uu-tan was ripped up before or after the incident. I think it was before, since she looks younger in the manga panels of Twilight, and mentions fearing the witch of the forest, but I’m not sure? In the manga, beat up as poor Uu-tan seems, I think Rosa did try to fix them, though.

I'll try my best to be somewhat coherent. Going back to 1967 for this.

Rosa…literally saw this girl she’d just met, a girl who was noticeably naive and had little concept of danger, just a little bit older than her, literally plummet over thirty feet to her death.

The lines in the VN make it clear, too, that Rosa ran down to ask if Beatrice was alright. That she stayed by Beatrice’s side for a while, shaking her corpse and trying to get her to react, all the while watching as blood and brain matter seeped from the elder girl’s broken skull and wouldn’t stop.

Beatrice died with her eyes open, too - so Rosa would have been staring down at the unfaltering literal death stare of a young woman she had literally just been speaking to, and trying to get her to move and react to see if she was okay.

The manga panels of Beatrice’s body after the fall were horrifying to look at, the first time I saw them. It makes sense, considering just how far she fell, but - imagine a child seeing that? Especially the way her fingers were bent?

I...am not going to put a photo of Beatrice's body here, solely for peace of my own mind.

Rosa was in middle school at the time. At the youngest, she could have been 12. The eldest she could have been was 15. Her birthday falls in June, but I don’t think we’re ever given any indication when in the year the incident happened.

My really morbid thought was that, maybe Rosa grew more dependent on her toys - especially Uu-tan - due to the trauma of witnessing Beatrice’s death (this is probably more likely if Uu-tan had been ripped up after the incident, but my line of thought is that Rosa still clung to them some time after trying to repair them).

It’s noted multiple times throughout the VN, especially in Turn, that there is a sizable age difference between Rosa and her elder siblings. They didn’t get along with Rosa, because she was so young and additionally, their own trauma and aspirations - if anything, they took their trauma and abuse out on her.

Krauss used to take her toys as punishment for things she didn’t remember doing, Eva would lie and trick her, and Rudolf would do both but make it ten times worse for Rosa, because Krauss and Eva were just as awful to him, and he could take it on on Rosa. And this is just the simplified rundown of the situation, doesn’t even touch on the full complexity of the layers of abuse and trauma that eventually are brought to bear their weight on Rosa’s shoulders.

On top of being unable to reach out to her elder siblings, Rosa lives and is brought up on an isolated island. She likely went to school off-island and made friends there, but it’s a known fact that Rokkenjima could be a difficult island to reach, despite its small size, even if a small amount of wind picked up.

Rosa has no close neighbors, no easy way of conversing with friends from school or visiting their houses. The closest she might have had for companions were the servants hired to work in the mansion.

This is what, similarly to her daughter Maria in the next generation, led Rosa to be reliant on the toys she owned for friends and company. Namely, her stuffed rabbit Uu-tan.

I’m not exactly sure about the scenario, but I think that Rosa only ever mentioned what happened to Genji - and that was to tell him about Beatrice’s fall. I think she was even told not to mention it to anyone else?

She couldn’t talk to her siblings about it, definitely couldn’t talk to her parents about it, so who else did she have to turn to, but her stuffed animals and dolls?

In the manga, Uu-tan literally had their head and arm ripped straight off by Rudolf. Their stomach was also torn open. It's some hardcore gore, even for a plushie. Which is my brain must have tied then to Beatrice.

In Twilight of the Golden Witch, when Rosa and Maria are hiding in Rosa's old room, Rosa actually finds Uu-tan on accident - and this is what I meant when I mentioned it looked like someone had tried to put them back together. Uu-tan's arm and head were reconnected to the body, and the stomach sewn up a little bit. Badly, as stuffing was still leaking out, some several decades later - but someone had tried to fix Uu-tan. They even had a little bandage around a leg,

My first morbid line of thought was that if Uu-tan had been ripped apart after Beatrice's death, it would have been made ten times worse by the fact that Rosa had already seen another person die from brutal head trauma, and something like seeing Uu-tan's head getting ripped off just made me think about Beatrice's fall.

If Uu-tan was ripped apart beforehand, and Rosa had tried to sew them back together, I imagined the comparison of Uu-tan's damaged body - despite the best repair efforts - and the leaking stuffing to the appearance of Beatrice's corpse post-fall.

The imagery is stuck in my brain, I swear. don't know if this makes much sense, but my brain won't drop it, so I decided to post about it. Literally has no bearing on the actual story, except for additional trauma for Rosa which...isn't good for anybody.

I'd call this self-indulgent rambling, but really this is just very morbid thoughts rambling which came to haunt me at one in the morning.

[paingoes]

Crash Out

Nimrod IV

dont try this at home

(Content: death?, immortal whumper, knives, stabbing, blood, explosives, fire)

~

Dark, dark, and darker still. 

She heard a voice distantly. The same one she’d chasing for months. The mark. His Highness.

“God, fucking die already,” he panted.

As if.

The pain was blooming in her chest, trying to shape itself around his blade. All her other sensation flowed out of this. It traveled down through her fingers. She twitched her pinky.

The blade withdrew, then came down again. She fell back into the darkness.

~

12 HOURS EARLIER

Click. Click. Cliiiick. Click click click click. Click.

“You should try it behind your back now,” Lorelai suggested.

Paris undid the manacles again, shimmying the locks on each wrist open. The shackles that Johanna had so carelessly lost possession of were heavy with rust and other people’s blood.

“Alright.” He readjusted in the passenger seat, moving up on one knee to give himself space to maneuver. He slipped the lock picks into his back pocket and clipped the manacles on behind his back. 

Click. Click.

He struggled for a minute. Lorelai watched with mild amusement.

Click click click. Cliiiick. Click!

“Fuck with me,” he said, freeing his wrists. The chains fell away from them, landing hard on the back of his ankle. “Ow.”

He tossed them to the floor of the ship and fell back against the seat. He pulled the map off of the dashboard.

“You decide where you want to go yet?” He asked.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Lorelai hummed, “It has to be somewhere flat, with good sightlines. A planet where there’s nowhere to hide. It should also be somewhere depopulated, so no alarms go off. And obviously, it has to be survivable weather if we’re going to camp out there for a while. No hells. That’s a given.”

Without looking, she tapped at the map.

“This one.”

Something in the way she said it made him blush.

~

They were smoking out by the picnic table the same way they did back in school. The air shifted.

“She’s here.” His eyes widened. His weapon hand moved on its own to the sheath, the off-hand drawn up defensively to his chest. His whole body tensed up in anticipation of attack.

“You’re sure?” Lorelai looked around too. She gasped.

Johanna stood unmoving, half hidden behind the tree. Her eyes were blank. She stood there as if she’d been there for hours, long before they arrived. But that was impossible. She was looking at them, maybe, but it was hard to tell. She didn’t seem to care whether she was seen or not. She was almost invisible in the shade.

She turned and ran.

God fucking damn it.

“That wasn’t the plan,” Paris said, “She wants us to follow her.”

“I don’t think we’re going to have a better opportunity, though.” Lorelai was already walking after her.

Reluctantly, he pulled the gas can off of the table, following them out into the pines.

~

She was winning. She was always winning. He knew it was a trap. Knowing didn’t help.

They lost track of her early. She moved too fast. He took notice of the way Lorelai looked up, watching the tops of the trees, like she may have been hiding among them. When Johanna had stuck her with the knife, she said, she’d dropped down from a branch to do it.

There was still no sight of her. But for the first time, her ship came into view. It stood alone in the clearing.

He looked around again. Nothing. No sound, no aura. He waited. He realized.

“God fucking damn it,” he said again, shifting the gasoline to the other hand.

“Let’s just do it. You do it. I’ll guard.” Lorelai pulled the gun off the back. She ushered him closer to the dormant ship, standing between him and the rest of the wood.

“Yeah, let’s just mix explosives while we wait for her to come ignite them herself, fuck it,” he grumbled. He was already getting to work though. He had remembered one recipe, at least.

“She wouldn’t blow up her own ship, would she? Probably just wants you close to it.”

Lorelai’s gun didn’t have a scope, but she kept her face level with the barrel like it helped her see the whole world more clearly.

He pressed the styrofoam down into the gasoline.

His hands stopped, abruptly, as he saw her crouched low to the ground, right beneath the ship. 

There was no time to react. The crouch turned into a pounce, immediately, and the knife was at his throat, and he had fucking napalm on his clothes.

He thrashed too much — and the knife got his throat again. She wasn’t trying to kill him. She’d never been trying to kill him. But she was losing her patience lately. They’d both stopped being careful. 

“You’re chinning out,” she gasped.

“I’m not,” he answered, childish, too defensive.

Johanna pulled her fist back. He flinched.

“You are!” 

He was.

Lorelai kicked her in the side of the head. That alone might’ve been enough to kill her, if she was fucking normal. It gave him the opening he needed, though. He drove her own knife into her neck. Johanna stopped moving.

He shoved her limp body back, immediately stripping his jacket off. It was soaked in the chemical. Parts of it had spilled onto his face, his neck, his hands. It burned distantly. He was shaking. 

~

Lorelai took over. Her hands weren’t shaking — and she knew her way around passenger ships more than he did. She knew how to fuck up the batteries on them. It would just take her a second.

All he had to do was guard the body.

He swore she’d gone down too easily that time. Had it actually been a trap? Had she even meant to lure them when she stood and stared like that, when she ran off? Maybe she was actually trying to forfeit this time. 

Her blood soaked into the dirt. What was her problem?

Her finger twitched again. He slammed the blade back down into her heart.

He hoped she couldn’t feel it. No matter who she was, he hoped to fucking god she couldn’t feel it. He knew firsthand what it was like to have the foreign object driven straight into the chest. He did it to her over and over again, every time she moved, drawing more blood than he would’ve thought possible. 

He thought he would be okay if he never saw blood again after this.

He took to sitting beside her body, his fingers pressed up against her wrist, awaiting the faintest pulse before he had to damp it down again.

He swore she was starting to come back from it faster. 

“Lorry, hurry the fuck up!” He yelled.

“I’m trying!”

“Switch with me?” He called hopefully.

“No, no, I almost got it.”

She shifted herself out from beneath the ship, carrying a long, thin piece of metal.

“I got it.” She grinned. She dragged the napalm mixture down to the ship’s guts. “Start running.”

Paris pulled the sword from Johanna’s torso. He backed up into the hill, slowly until Lorelai came back up to join him. Then he moved much, much faster. 

~

They were further than they needed to be for that kind of explosion, but Paris still pulled her down onto the ground to keep the shrapnel away. She watched with eager eyes, some latent appetite for destruction present in her yet. She liked to watch monster truck shows when she was little. This wasn’t that far off.

The first explosion was loud, but not as fiery as  she would’ve hoped. Not as colorful. It was mostly self-contained, traveling up into the ship, tearing it apart.

The secondary explosion was massive — and totally unplanned. She could feel the heat fresh up against her skin. So much light filled the valley. For a minute, everything was soaked in a brilliant red. Far away, she heard an alarm go off.

Paris blinked the gunpowder out of his eyes, laughing a little bit.

“-probably had bombs in the ship already. Fucking psycho-“

Her ears were ringing so badly she had barely heard him. She laughed too. Like she was ten years old, she held her hand up to him. It made them laugh harder. High-five!

[adamwatchesmovies]

Titanic (1997)

There’s a reason Titanic captured hearts and audiences in 1997. This is a disaster film done right. Director James Cameron builds up to the spectacle you expect by developing the relationships and characters. The romance is so effective you practically forget you already know the ship will sink until it happens. Wonderfully romantic (and quite erotic), with first-class special effects, excellent performances, a memorable score and dozens of scenes you see once and can never forget; it’s essential viewing.

In 1996, Brock Lovett (Bill Paxton) and his team dive deep inside the wreck of the RMS Titanic. They’re looking for the legendary Heart of the Ocean necklace. Instead of the gem, they find a drawing of a woman wearing it. The woman in question is Rose Dawson Calvert (Gloria Stuart). In 1912, 17-year-old Rose (played during flashbacks by Kate Winslet) is engaged to Caledon Hockley (Billy Zane), whom she loathes. When Rose meets Jack Dawson (Leonardo DiCaprio), a poor artist from the lower deck, she's initially put off by his itinerant lifestyle but in no time, they fall in love. Meanwhile, no one can imagine the danger that awaits the ship.

James Cameron’s passion for this project is clear and that enthusiasm meant no expense was spared, no detail was overlooked. When the decayed remnants of the Titanic are returned to their former glory, you get it. Its enormous engine room, cargo hold full of luxurious treasures, sumptuous Grand Staircase, gigantic dining hall, colossal chimneys and endless corridors are stunning. Then, there are the people aboard. At the top, wealthy passengers for whom the ritzy accommodations have been built. At the bottom, tiny cabins crowded with families dreaming of better lives. It’s the perfect setting for a romance. There’s enough space for our lovers to elope but the “world” is small enough that they can’t escape completely from the realities that await them. The trip is long but it won't last forever so there’s a ticking clock that demands the love story get resolved - even before the iceberg comes into view.

At 195 minutes, Titanic can fully develop its characters. Some may seem a little more plot device-y than others but even the despicable Caledon has tiny moments that make him human. He’s still a complete turd that - like so many of the rich passengers onboard - cares more about what's in someone’s bank account than anything else, but there’s a brief moment where he almost redeems himself. Not by being kind to Jack (he harbors far too much jealousy towards his romantic rival for that) but by trying to comfort Rose. Another character that seems flat at first is Rose’s mother, Ruth (Frances Fisher) when she explains to her daughter why she must marry into wealth. You disagree but understand the thought process, particularly after seeing the luxuries aboard the Titanic. Jack and Rose are a classic archetype that works again here. She's trapped in a period that gives her few options. She feels like the first member of a generation that will usher in a new age of greater equality… but she's also young and a slave to her emotions. Jack is a rascal but an honest one who's had the freedom to wander anywhere. That freedom seems to expand when he receives his ticket for the Titanic, but in a way, it shrinks. He gets closer to the upper crust than ever before, which only shows him there are places where he'll never be accepted.

And then… disaster strikes. Everyone knows the ship will sink. Early in the picture, we’re told the "how" and "when" in detail. It seems like a strange choice initially but it makes sense. Titanic doesn’t want to exploit the disaster. It wants to give those who lived and died onboard a story. They go from being numbers to people. You’ll be watching, looking forward to seeing Rose and Jack’s romance pan out when suddenly, the camera will fade away from the flashback and show us the now 100-year-old Rose telling us the story. Oh right! There’s a disaster on the way! You’re surprised you forgot but that’s the power of this romance. The fact that it is so effective makes the disaster portion of the story crushingly upsetting. Aboard the Titanic, there were hundreds of couples like Jack and Rose, dreamers like Fabrizio (Danny Nucci), elderly couples and young families who thought they were going to America to find better lives. It's been so long the survivors would likely be dead by now but it still makes you upset, particularly when we see how it all went down.

In the years since Titanic, much has been made of the story’s ending. We learn that Jack did not survive. Like so many others, he froze to death waiting for someone to come rescue him. There have been endless comments or posts about how the ending could be “fixed”, how both Rose and Jack could’ve fit on that door. All these criticisms miss the ending's point. No one on the Titanic truly lived happily ever after. While some elements are wildly romantic, possibly exaggerated for narrative purposes, the objective is to make you feel the injustice and tragedy of April 14, 1912.

Titanic is magnificent. You effortlessly get swept up in the romance, the nobility (or perceived nobility) of a bygone era, the drama of the classes aboard the ship, the struggles for survival as the boat sinks, and the tragedy of how it ended. The special effects are marvelous, the sets lavish, the performances excellent. Then, there’s the score. I’m sure you know Celine Dion’s My Heart Will Go On. Just thinking about it conjures up a wave of emotions. Its melody is found throughout the entire film but we have to wait until the very end to hear the full thing. When you do, it’ll be a challenge to hold those tears back. (On Blu-ray, April 12, 2023)

[flowers-for-em]

here is an excerpt from my writing today!

callum's pov btw

also um yeah meet Emberly and Earley.

Earley lives in a two-storied home that seems its straight out of a fairy-tale mother tells Addiline and Lorelei. It’s a white wooden home with vines creeping up the walls, the windows are thrown open each with a small box of flowers hanging from them. A picket fence wraps around the house with a path that travels through the yard connecting the rows of plants. Butterflies float around the garden in harmony dropping to land on flowers and the flying off again when they’re satisfied with their work. A gentle breeze floats through the air and the smell of fresh air and rain hits me – this place smells like Aurelia.

Earley directs us towards the small gate underneath an arch leading us into her home, but the second we step foot in her garden the butterflies freeze, and a high-pitched shriek emits from them as they hurtle towards us. The once gentle breeze picks up to a deadly pace and whips around us caging us in, the clear sky suddenly darkens, and we’re trapped in an air storm that’s closing in on us quickly. Leahla screeches when a butterfly touches her and she lifts off the ground, gripping onto my arm with surprising strength. Aurelia is calming looking about, not showing any signs of panic or care as her hair is whipped into a frenzy, in fact it seems like butterflies are just landing on her and resting.

Earley and Emberly both turn around with frowns on their faces. Earley’s directed at the butterflies and Emberly’s directed at Leahla who is still making noise.

“Oh enough already,” Early scolds to the butterflies, she waves her hand towards them all and the arm walls vanish, and the butterflies move away from us crowding Earley as if she’ll protect them from us. “Yes, I know they aren’t from here,” she says when one of the critters starts chittering in her ear. “That shouldn’t bother you dears okay? Just go back to work, I’ll make sure to leave out extra water for you tonight.” The insect just bobs in the air for a few more seconds before fluttering off taking the rest of the swarm with it.

“You’ll have to forgive me, I forgot about my little friends, they can get quite hostile when new visitors arrive.”

“You think?” Julias mutters to himself so quietly I can barely hear it.

Earley spins around. “Yes I do think that. Next time you wish to say something under your breath you may as well say it out loud, no point in mumbling.” Julias’s face turns red. How did she hear that? “As I was saying, I’m sorry if the Airnts scared you. Sometimes they have absolutely no boundaries.” She sends another scolding look at the flittering insects.

I look back over to the swarm of butterflies and realise they aren’t butterflies at all. They’re small little human like creatures with wings and crystal-like skin. They’re small hands gently tending to the plant they’ve landed on before flying to the next one, laughing with each other and playing with the wind the control.

“So they’re like human bugs?” Julias asks disgust clear in his tone.

No one liked that.

Leahla swats him in the arm. “Are you kidding me Julias? Shush!”

The lead Airnt that was squeaking in Earley’s ear, shrieks loudly at that and sends a large blast of air at Julias sending him flying onto his ass, to the Silent Court and Earley’s amusement.

“They are not bugs, they are Airnts. A word of advice Mr Julias, don’t call them bugs again, they won’t take it nicely.”

“Couldn’t you just stop them?” Avena speaks up.

“I could – but if he insults my Airnts again it’s not that I can’t stop them, it’s that I don’t want to stop them.” By the time we’ve reached the first step I realise that was the second time Earley heard something she couldn’t have.

~~~

its def unedited btw

@nqds @skeelly (sorry for dragging u into this lemme know if u want me to stop lol)

[imwriting0verhere]

Love Again

Chapter 8

Sam’s pov

Being in LA for the past two weeks was incredible. We arrived, fought the jetlag and got ready to start this North America tour. I had to do some interviews as well as a photoshoot that are all going to be released throughout the tour to get even more promo out and make myself and my music even more interesting and appealing to the American audiences. I’m never too crazy about those tasks but it’s part of this job. At least we’re finally on location and ready to play our first gig tonight in Los Angeles, and it’s at the legendary Troubadour no less. We’re all buzzing, even uncle Elton said he’d be there tonight. Everything still feels so unreal.

I’ve been with the boys all day, it’s just gone past 5pm as we walk out of soundcheck and into the backstage area to wind down and prepare for tonight.

The minute I sit down and turn my phone back on I’m bombarded with notifications. At least 8 messages make my phone vibrate and light up as well as 5 missed calls. And they’re all from Amber. My breath gets caught in my throat thinking the worst. So without even checking the texts I excuse myself and step out of the room to ring her back.

After several seconds and me ready to give up, she answers.

“Finally” I mumble before addressing her “Ambs you okay? A’ve just got me phone back and seen all your calls and messages” I try to listen for any signs of distress or where she might be. But the line is eerily quiet. I hear her exhale before she finally speaks

“What were you doing all day? Did you have fun?” she asks me in a very snippy and annoyed tone.

“Ehm, what d’ya mean? We’ve been prepping for tonight and just got done with soundcheck” I pinch the bridge of my nose out of pure confusion “You alreet, pet?” I ask again.

“Don’t know” she hisses into the phone and I’m really just getting more confused by the minute. What is she on about?

“You tell me! Given that its past midnight in London now which means you’ve completely missed our first Valentine’s Day together” she snaps at me.

Oh. Okay. Thank god it’s nothing serious.

I clear my throat before I respond “Look Ambs, I’m sorry I’ve missed it. My mind’s just on the gig tonight and everything going right. A wasn’t even aware that was today.

“But Saam” she whines “This would’ve been our first one together. I wanted to speak to you or facetime you all day”

I don’t want her to think I don’t care, but this is absolutely the last and least important thing on my mind today.

“Well, it’s still the 14th where I am” I try to appease her with that “So technically a divvent miss it”

She’s pondering over my words and I’m waiting for her to say something

“Ceemon, it’s not like a’ve done this on purpose. I miss yous” I smile down the phone

“Fine, alright” she tries to sound annoyed but I can hear the smile in her voice, knowing I’ve won her over with that “I miss you too babe. It’s killing me that I can’t even come over and visit you”

“Me too. But we’ll make it work aye”.

Before I know it, 20 minutes have passed and I need to get back to the lads.

“I’ve got to go now. Elton John will be here tonight and he’s coming early to have a chat and give us a pep talk, right.” I chuckle at her. I’m so excited to see him again and actually have him in the audience tonight. Proper VIP treatment just for him.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, again. ‘m sorry a couldn’t be there today”

“Thanks babe, happy V-Day!” she says excitedly “Good luck tonight, I wish I was there with you”.

Stepping back into our little green room I make a mental note of having chocolates and a bouquet of her favourite flowers delivered to her tomorrow.

Y/N pov

Being on tour for almost four weeks already was the best and most amazing feeling. Traveling with the girls, exploring new cities, playing music to new audiences almost every night was everything I’ve always wanted to do. But on a day like today, I was very grateful to have some time off and start a very chill Sunday by waking up late and staying in bed for a bit. And given that we were playing two shows in Rome our label actually splurged and we were staying in a hotel for the time being. This Valentine’s Day couldn’t have started better.

At 11 am I finally decide to leave the bed and go shower, so I can start the day proper. February 14th was one of my favorite days ever since I was in high school. I didn’t have a boyfriend at the time but me and my friends tried to make it special for each other. Writing sweet and silly letters to each other, getting flowers or a cheap bracelet from Claire’s we’d been swooning over at the mall. It didn’t matter how much or if we’d even spent any money at all, it was always about showing love and affection to the people around you, the people in your life that you love and cherish, and couldn’t imagine living without.

So I’ve got a special day planned for my girls today.

Walking into the en suite bathroom and opening Spotify to enjoy some music while I shower and get ready. But a message catches my eye and as soon as I open it and see who it’s from, my mood gets even better and I smile down at my phone.

Morning sunshine! I hope you’re having a blessed day. Missing you over here, bun San Valentino mi amore 😘😉😂  

Cackling at Johnny’s text and use of obnoxious pet names and emojis, I quickly type back

Thanks so much mi amore! You just made this day THAT much more special x 😍😘     

My response dripping with sarcasm but it’s actually very impressive and sweet that Johnny remembered how much I love this day.

Fifteen minutes later I step out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel and my damp hair falling over my shoulders. I lower the volume on my phone as I see Donna is back in our room. She acknowledges me with a quick “Good morning sleepyhead! Ready for the big day?” and as she turns around to me she sports a big smile and a mirth in her eyes that I can’t quite place.

“Yes, I’m going to be so disgustingly corny and loved up with all of you today” I grin at her before sitting down on my bed and looking down to scroll on my phone. Missing her smirk and the not so subtle bouquet of pink, violet and white flowers that’s now sitting on our vanity table. Next to it is a little bag filled with a The Safest Place EP, Johnny’s second band that I’ve supported and been a huge fan of since day one. And he promised me I’d be one of the first people to hear their music once they have enough songs to make an EP. The last item on the table are two pistachio croissants neatly placed inside an open cardboard box. One of my absolute favorite Italian treats, and now that they’re from a bakery in Rome, they must be absolutely heavenly.

“Someone’s already beat you to it. By the looks of it” looking up at her with confusion evident on my face, she just nods her head to the side and my eyes follow the direction until they land on the items on the table.

I gasped before quickly dropping my phone onto the mattress and stepping closer to investigate.

“What?” I whisper in disbelieve. “Did…did you get me this” I ask her bewildered

“Nope” she lets the p pop and just smirks at me some more “I believe they are from a certain Mr Bond” she walks past me, squeezes my arm gently and walks out onto the small balcony of our room. She’s giving me some privacy because she knows I’m going to want to talk to Johnny immediately.

Reaching for my phone again and starting a facetime call, I walk back over to the table to investigate some more. After only a few rings he picks up

“Hiyaaa” he almost shouts into the phone, the biggest Cheshire grin on his face “A’m guessing you got your present?”

“Johnny, this is crazy” I’m still a bit shocked and at a loss for words “How did you even…this is too much…” I trail off again

“It’s not. I know how much you love this day and that you’re treating the girls today. But you deserve some of that too aye” his smile softer now. My eyes get a bit teary at that. Johnny really is one of the best people I know.

“Do you like the flowers? Did you look at everything yet?” he asks excitedly.

“They’re so beautiful John!” and as I move closer to smell them, a smile forms on my face. I don’t have a lot to say, still a bit overwhelmed by this gesture so we just look at each other, my happy expression saying enough.

I reach my hand into the little pink paper bag and pull out a black and dark blue colored 7” vinyl. The Safest Place EP written on top of its case.

“Omg Johnny that’s you” I shout excitedly, looking at my phone screen again. He just laughs at my outburst

“Aye! I promised you, didn’t I?” he grins at me and I’m bursting with pride now. This means it’s official now, Johnny’s new band is ready for take-off and I hope they get to play many incredible gigs in the near future. This is such a good start.

“I’m so proud of you B, this is amazing! Thank you so much! For all of this” taking a moment to just look at him.

His warm blue eyes stare back at me, the softest look on his handsome face. I can feel his genuine care and good intentions just by looking at him.

He asks me about my plans today, he wants to know again how life on tour has been and how I’m feeling with all of this happening and my hard work finally paying off.

I can feel my thoughts drifting. Thinking about recent months, what happened between me and Sam and how different both men have been treating me. Even though things with Sam started very rough this year, and it still doesn’t feel like we made up and are back to being close friends, just how it was before that New Years party. We still need to have a proper conversation, in person, and he needs to show me that I can trust him again, unconditionally. But maybe we’re getting there now, after he contacted me that very first day of tour. Unfortunately, I haven’t heard much else from him since then.

And Johnny on the other hand, he’s been such a wonderful friend since we met years ago. I never thought I’d feel any differently for him, surprisingly, even after we shared a kiss one night a couple years ago. There was a tension between us that night, I think it was after one of his last shows with Catfish and something about him fresh off stage just made me see him differently. There was wine flowing and the adrenaline was high. So we made out that night. It was great, and it didn’t even feel like a mistake afterwards. But it was only a spur of the moment impulse and we just went on being friends.

I realize now that the feeling I had back then, might be coming back. For the past two months Johnny’s been such a constant in my life, almost taking Sam’s place. And although that thought was a bit scary, it doesn’t make me feel bad. Johnny was looking out for me, checking up when he knew I wasn’t feeling the best. Without either of us knowing really, he’s become one of the most important people this year, making me feel okay, making me feel special and understood. Showing me I can trust him. And without even realizing, Johnny Bond has warped his way into a very special place in my heart. And now looking back at the gifts I’ve just received from him, returning my gaze back to his lovely face on my phone screen, I really don’t think I’d want it any other way.     

“I think I should go now B. Finally get dressed and leave the hotel room for a bit”

“Sure, yea” he looks at me with a pout but the sarcasm is coming through and I know he wants me to enjoy my time with the band now.

“Thanks again my sweet” I wink at him before blowing a kiss and with his last “Bye, sunshine” we end the call and I take a moment to take all of this in. Smiling to myself before I quickly get dressed and call for Donna that we can leave to meet the others.

[factorialsotherfandoms]

QSMP x XCOM AU, finally some plot! (Though you'll have to wait for the plot in this one to get explained...) (Kinda suprised I got this done. Entirely uneditted as I'm leaving in 10 minutes)

This is still pretty early. Post Pac&Mike, pre-Cellbit. Infact, you may see Cellbit referenced a little... Jaiden, Bad, Foolish, Fit, and Philza explore a Federation Facility they were lead to by mysterious coordinates found tucked into a hidden supply cache...

TW: major character injury, background character death, corpses, violence

(Chapter 1/2, idk when 2 will be done but all the mission is contained here)

Following coordinates left by a spy of unknown origin is a fool’s errand, but then Foolish /has/ been assigned to the mission. Said sniper has taken it upon himself to distract Bad at every opportunity possible, and so Jaiden has stolen his command.

She presses on ahead, scouting the paths and signalling for people to follow. The low hills they arrived on give way to a road, and that is where she pauses.

3 fingers - an order to wait.

Fit crouches behind a fence, careful to make sure his grenade launcher is hidden, and squints for what she saw.

“Two guards and a sectoid,” she murmurs, Foolish hops down and into earshot. “Chances are as soon as we hit them, there will be alarms.”

“Can we sneak around?” Fit asks.

He is not against triggering the alarms and making some horrific noise, but they are here to investigate primarily. Tripping the security immediately… It’s a good way for any clues to get blown up.

Fit would know.

Blowing shit up is usually his job.

“We could try?” Jaiden chews on her lip. “But they seem to be going up and down the train tracks. Can’t see the building yet, if there even is one.”

“We should be fine,” Bad shakes his arms down a little, adjusting his grip. “Take them out fast, don’t let them call for help? A little surprise for them?”

“Up I go, then! Later!” Foolish is already crossing the road to a nearby petrol station, scrambling up to the roof.

They give him a moment to get into place, all analysing the terrain. Standard practice would be to have most of the group line up their shots, then Jaiden to distract the enemies by running straight in. As soon as they duck out of cover to deal with her…

Well Fit’s weapons are /messy/, but the others are all damned good shots.

Jaiden waits for everyone to confirm they are ready, then leaps out of her hiding spot. The Feds and their pet all turn their attention to her, stepping out of their cover to greet her.

It is their mistake.

One guard is down before it hears the gunfire, the other just as it turns to look. The sectoid tries to bolt, causing Philza’s bullet to only graze its shoulder, only for Jaiden to slice through its throat as it does. 

A shot from Foolish’s rifle puts an end to the other.

Fit checks for more danger, and sees none. Beyond the trees he can see what looks like factory smoke - likely their target. To the left, right, and behind is clear, leaving only onwards.

“All clear,” he tells them, and starts moving on.

Only to turn and realise everyone has frozen.

“Guys?” he asks.

Bad breaks out of it first, shaking his head, “ah, muffins.”

Fit tilts his head in a question.

“The Assassin,” Bad taps at his head. “Didn’t you hear her?”

Fit shakes his head, “not a thing.”

The others shake off the effect too, frowning at one another.

“Well,” it’s Jaiden who tilts her head. “If she doesn’t want us here specifically, that means we’re on track, right?”

“Right,” Philza nods. “And she’s still a bit off, yet; Niki mentioned good scrubland for landing around the back, just too close to be subtle, so it’s probably where she arrived too.”

“Did you train in the Wastelands to not get this bullshit or something?” Foolish asks. “Because, damn, not hearing her would be good.”

Fit looks at Philza.

Philza looks back.

“Something like that,” Fit says. “Takes too long to teach anyone, though.””

“Guys, let’s just get on with this,” Jaiden stretches. “She’s here now; we deal with her if she gets close. Just like always, right?”

“Yup!” Bad has Ghostie shift modes, his robot now joining Philza’s crow in keeping watch. “Let’s not give them time to sort their muffins into line.”

The rest agree, falling into formation, and Fit still is not entirely sure what they heard, but… 

Well, if it was important, Philza would have said. 

---

Beyond the treeline is a railway track, and beyond the track is a building made of concrete and steel. The emblem of the Federation sits proudly on the front, clearly marking out their target. Unlike city facilities it has no main front door, only two small side ones.

And outside of it are crates upon crates, scattered and stacked up. Every crate has a metal frame, but some sort of clear plastic reveals the green glow inside. On the sidings of the railway tracks is a flatbed cargo carriage, also stacked up with them, but those ones have a tarp pulled over to hide the worst of the glow.

And inside each and every crate, there is a perfectly intact human form.

“The fudge,” Fit breathes out.

He is not the only one, the group quiet and faces grim.

Hesitantly, Philza approaches the closest of the exposed crates. He kneels besides them, his Crow sat atop and looking down. He frowns as he looks first at his bird, and then at the screen giving him readouts from it.

And then he is still, very still, just quietly breathing and eyes skimming text as his Crow hops between the stacks of crates, taking readings both for records and Philza’s consumption.

Breathe in, breathe out; Philza is rarely so quiet.

It is… concerning.

Fit kneels beside him, listening to the others shuffle and looking at his old friend.

“Phil?” he asks.

“Dead,” Philza doesn’t even look up from the screen on his glove. “All of them are dead.”

Fit stands again, looking over the crates. If this many are stacked outside…

“And the goo?” Jaiden asks.

Philza shakes his head, and Foolish shrugs. Now he looks properly, Fit can see that they both also look a little shaken.

“We’re too late,” Jaiden replies. “All these people…”

“We’d need to run samples, but I think… I think we found the missing civilians.”

“Fudge, Max!” Bad turns sharply to Foolish.

“Max…?” Foolish replies. “Oh, fuuuuuck. Fuck, okay, we’ll just… You break it gently to him, alright?”

“Do you think we could…?” Jaiden starts, before shaking her head. “There’s too many of them.. I…”

“Take a moment,” Fit advises, knowing that, of the five of them, only he and Philza have much experience with the sort of tortures that the Federation call ‘science’. “We can’t help these people, but we can stop the fuckers taking anyone else. Breathe through it, and get fucking angry.”

Jaiden curls in on herself, while what little of Bad’s face can be seen is grim. Foolish is the one who takes the advice to heart, kicking at one of the low walls. Fit and Philza keep watch; everyone has known civilians dying before, hell the sanctuaries have been attacked often enough. But that is in fire and blood and anger, while these…

These crates, the putting of every corpse into it’s own storage container of goo, nearly piled outside a facility presumably for some sort of processing…

Well, it takes a few minutes, the first time. Emotions should be processed later, but you gotta get them into the boxes somehow.

But they do not have minutes, only seconds, because more trouble will arrive soon enough

Philza is the one to break the quiet, taking a deep breath and looking inwards to the group once again. “We need to-”

Whatever he was about to say, he cuts himself off as he drops to his knees. Above him, right where his neck had been, a long sword swipes through the air. As it does, an arm - a torso, a head - flicker into vision.

Purple skinned, hair pulled back, armour in red and black, two swords - Assassin.

“Good reflexes,” she twitches her head as she speaks, lips pulled in a mockery of - or maybe attempt at - a smile. "I had hoped your kind would never stumble across this facility, you know? Some things are best left unknown. But, now you have seen it… I cannot permit you to leave. Prepare yourselves."

As if.

Philza glances over, and Fit catches his eye. It’s a little dark but, while the Assassin talks about how wonderful it will be to kill them all, he nods.

Fit adjusts his gun.

Philza pulls a knife from his toolbelt.

It isn’t a combat knife, not really, but it still cuts flesh well as Philza sinks it into the Assassin’s ankle. He darts back, and Fit knows how this goes.

He opens fire.

The Assassin cuts off her words at the storm of bullets, a nasty hit to the shoulder as she jumps over the fence and into cover. Jaiden follows, cursing out her opponent with knife in hand.

Mud is kicked up and into Jaiden’s eyes, blinding her - and the following Foolish - just long enough for the Assassin to pull out her cloaking device.

Fit cannot fire, not with his allies so close, but Bad can. A shot from the rifle lands squarely in the Assassin’s back right as she fades from view.

“FUCK!” Jaiden yells. “Shit! Where is she?!”

The answering laughter echoes around.

“Is she gone?” Foolish asks. “Wait, no, she’s not gone. Stay close.”

Even though he knows that he will never see her coming, Fit still keeps glancing from side to side. His skin crawls with eyes on his back, the very familiar sensation of being hunted down his spine. Philza looks just as edgy, eyes a little wild as he presses against Fit’s good side.

The five form a circle, all looking out, guns ready for trouble when it comes.

And they wait.

And they wait.

And they wait, until Bad sighs and shifts his gun a little.

“She isn’t coming,” he says. “She’s waiting for us to be distracted.”

“Do we wait for her to get bored? Or press on?” Jaiden is equally as shifty, eyes narrowed as she looks arond.

“She doesn’t get bored,” Philza’s voice is a little distant. “If we wait, they’ll just bring more of the fuckers in.”

And that’s damned the problem, isn’t it?

All five pairs of eyes turn to the door, and then at everybody else. They need to enter, they know they need to, but with the Assassin in play… It’s a fucking death trap.

Fit looks at his companions again.

He is about to offer, when Jaiden nods, and pushes back her shoulders.

“I’ll go,” she says, already pulling out her sword. “Foolish?”

Foolish cocks a pistol, “always.”

The two of them enter, side by side. Fit positions himself behind them, ready for them to slip to either side of the door and allow him to fire on whatever is within. Foolish does, firing a few rounds from his pistol. Jaiden… sort of does, jumping over some scattered technology and charging an enemy out of sight.

Fit, however, cannot see whatever problem they have seen; he makes sure that Philza is keeping an eye out for threats from the outside, and also presses on in.

First assessment - threats. Three MECs, standing in some sort of algae-coloured water. Four Federation Guards to the right, one senior two with stun batons. Two sectoids and another guard to the left, Jaiden already there with sword in one hand, rifle in the other, and sparring all three at once.

Second assessment - location. Copper and brass looking technology, glowing in sickly green. There are walkways around the edge of a pool of tainted water, and the back wall consists of hundreds upon hundreds of giant tubes. Each is filled with glowing green.

Each contains a human corpse.

Third assessment - next action. Even if Jaiden somehow cannot manage two sectoids and a guard, an automatic fire submachine gun is not going to help her there. The other guards are A Problem, but MECs? MECs are his specialty.

The best cover he is getting is the sheet metal serving as a bannister for the walkway - MECs don’t care, not with small-scale rocket launchers, and those Guards are busy coming closer anyway. He hefts the gun onto the railing - he can support it himself, especially with the prosthetic, but he likes having knees - and lets loose.

Somewhere behind him, the door closes. Bad’s Ghostie drifts over, stunning the MEC not caught in the hail of bullets, while Fit hears the very familiar sound of a grenade exploding somewhere near the group of four guards. He does not have the luxury of protecting his own back, but they will all have to do.

“Do not touch the liquid!” Bad calls the group as Ghostie swoops back to him. “It eats flesh!”

Jaiden seems to take that warning as inspiration, because right after she yells “got it!”, one of the sectoids is flipped over the railing, and sent screaming into it.

It’s not an acid, any acid working that fast would surely damage at least the paintwork on the MECs, but it’s fucking grim. Something enzyme based? Fit’s seen some people try that sort of shit in the Wasteland, but never get it to work.

Might be, might not be; that’s not really Fit’s job.

He knows that some of the Order - Maxo, mostly, though Missa has been convinced to carry them too - do fancy shit with bluescreen bullets and EMP grenades. Fit, though? Fit likes to do this the old fashioned way. Just filling the fuckers full of lead.

Highly specialised, sharpened lead, designed to tear through metal with even more ease than flesh, but lead nonetheless.

He takes one down, dives under cover to avoid the small rockets another fires at him, and takes a smattering of shrapnel to the arm. He wears proper armour unlike some people he could mention, and it’s far enough away that it does not cut all the way through, but it certainly leaves scorch marks across the fabric.

It is nothing that accounts for how, as he stands, Philza screams, “Fit! Look out!”

Fit turns, and sees nothing; both MECs are reloading, the sectoids are dead and the guards are engaged. Maybe a late call about the rockets, but-

A cold chill runs down his spine.

“Your training fails you,” a voice whispers in his ear. He turns, catching the eyes of the Assassin as her cloaking device flickers off. He grabs at her, twisting himself away.

Cold, hard steel punctures through his armour.

He does not look. Fit does not look, but he can feel how her sword enters his back just below his ribs, curving up and escaping just after the next one.

One, two, three.

Waiting for the pain to kick in, Fit takes careful breaths around the blade. He’s survived worse. He’s survived worse. They’ve fought her off before. There are potions and medics right there. Don’t panic, do not panic, panic and you die.

And then the rips out the blade.

The agony hits, and Fit drops to his knees, pressing his hands to the wounds and gasping for air.

It hurts, it hurts, it /hurts!

“Take comfort,” she whispers to him, wiping his blood from her blade, “for there is dignity in death to a superior opponent.”

Fit closes his eyes.

A clash of steel.

From the floor he struggles them open again. 

Foolish is between him and the Assassin, her blades caught on his pistols. Jaiden, sprinting over, slashes down her back and the fight moves away.

“Phil!” Foolish yells. “And you, bitch, get away from him!”

With his assailant distracted and a bleeding tear through his chest, Fit pushes himself backwards, behind a counter. Worse place to fire from, but better cover. He runs on instinct, blood pooling inside him and leaving a trail across the floor. Hide, heal, get safe - he’s had worse, he’s had fucking worse, just fucking breathe.

(Or don’t because, shit, he has no idea how to tell if she caught his lung).

Moments later, Philza’s Crow stumbles a landing beside him. He can see the splash potion already prepared, the pink liquid in the throat of the robotic bird.

He lifts a hand, letting it apply it to the front, before shifting just enough to apply it to the back. Almost immediately the numbing component takes effect; now the burning is gone, he collapses once again. He can hear Foolish swearing as he fights, Bad answering just as instinctively, the clang of sword-on-sword, and the steady fire of either Bad or Philza’s rifle as the other enemies are kept at bay.

It’s Bad’s; as the weapon is still firing, Philza slides around the counter, medical bag already open and hanging off his shoulder.

“Fit?” he asks.

Fit gives him a somewhat listless thumbs up, “right here, Phil. Potion got the bleeding, just waiting for the painkillers, you know?”

“Right,” some of the tension in Philza’s shoulders drops as he examines the wound. He grimaces, but grabs some dressings and starts peeling off the backs. “Don’t have time to stitch this, with all this crap going on. Think you can manage until we get the fuck out of here?”

“You know me, Phil,” Fit hears the sounds of the fighting slowing down, the MECs no longer firing. “I’ve survived worse with less.”

He probably deserves the way Philza jabs his thumbs into old, tender scars as he tugs the skin together, and applies the dressings. The potion will deal with the blood, at least until the nanites run out of power. Then it’s just… Just keeping the wound sealed enough to breathe.

“Keep weight off it when you can,” Philza tells him, adding tape despite the dressings having adhesive. “As soon as we get to evac, you’re lying down and letting me look at this shit.”

There isn’t really time to agree. Fit is certain Philza was about to tell him to let someone else carry his heavier kit, only to be interrupted by Bad screeching in pain.

Philza is cursing and running before Fit has a chance to process the ungodly sound.

Still, needs must. Despite his wound, despite the painkillers not yet quite being fully working, despite the nanites still spreading into the bloodstream and stabalising the wound, allowing him to breathe, Fit pulls himself to his feet. Feeling a little weak he hoists his gun onto the counter.

It’s awkward to work like this, but he can; he directs his attention to the last of the Sectoids, and lets loose a hail of bullets.

It falls, and Fit looks around.

Jaiden is adjusting one of her vambraces, while Foolish reloads his pistols. Bad looks a little dizzy, but waves off Philza’s hands and drinks one of his own potions rather than apply it to whatever wound he has. Crow rests on some of the rails separating the walkways from the liquid, and Ghostie floats in its place.

The MEC wrecks in the liquid stand untouched, but the Fed whose corpse fell into it is slowly dissolving away.

“We good?” Foolish asks the group. “We forced a respawn, so she shouldn’t be back anytime soon.”

“I’m good to go on,” Fit replies, even as the others somewhat hesitantly confirm.

Whatever they are looking for, well… The missing civilians were some of it, and fuck this - fuck all of this - but the rest… Whatever their contact sent them to get? It’s in the back, isn’t it?

“Fit, you got explosives?” Bad asks.

“Do I have explosives,” Fit deadpans back. “What do you take me for, Bad, a reasonably human being? Of course I have fucging explosives.”

The slip gets him a look, but Bad must be feeling shitty as he allows it to pass, “we wanna meet up with Niki, right? Can you make a door in the back wall while we check that room out?”

A door?

“You won’t be able to close it,” he warns.

“Oh that’s fine,” Bad smiles a bit. “We don’t need to leave this place intact.”

“Just tell me where you want it, then.”

“Hm… Back wall, to the right? I saw an internal door there you can duck around once it’s set!”

“Perfect,” Fit ignores Philza’s glare, and hoists his gun back over his shoulder. “You four headed to that lab looking room?”

“Yup,” Foolish pops the p as he speaks. “See you in five!”

Fit waves his acknowledgement, waiting for the four of them to start heading over. Once they’re close enough to the back for any aliens in the last room to jump them and not him, Fit starts the other way around the walkway.

Alone, now, he can see how the liquid is not just dissolving the corpse, but is glowing as it does so. Bubbles he sort of expected, but glowing is fucking weird; even if they have to take samples of this shit, he isn’t touching it. Tubbo with glowing flesh dissolvant? Could probably make it work, but half of the field agents can’t be trusted to handle grenades, let alone that stuff.

Examining the wall Bad asked for a hole making in, Fit finds a couple of weak points. The area around the window is surprisingly well reinforced, especially given that the section next to it is cracked. Outside, a short, muddy cliff where the facility was cut into a slope, leading up to some shrubland beyond.

The facility is not exactly hidden, but why do the Feds need to hide the damn thing, when they already rule the world?

Despite the cracked section and the reinforcement, Fit still elects to lay the explosives around the window; upon examining the cracks, damaging that bit of wall further would just bring the roof down on them. If his maths is right - and Fit’s explosives maths is always right - he should be able to blow out the window and the section of wall below it, while keeping the top of the frame in place. It would be easier to just blow it out from the window but, again, the structural integrity of a shitty concrete job.

Given everything going on in this facility he’s a bit surprised the walls are /this/ bad, but perhaps the Federation enjoys cutting corners more than they enjoy their horrific science experiments going to plan.

Just through the wall beside him, Fit can hear the intense debate of the others. The wall muffles it a little too much to hear specifics, but it means they’ll be done soon.

It’s for the best; Fit really, really does not want to be stuck on the helicopter still when the painkillers wear out.

Careful of his wound, he sets the charges. He checks and double checks, before heading over to the room with the others. Enters, latches the door behind him, and moves away from it.

“Charges set,” he informs the group, already taking in the room.

It is a lab, yes, though of copper and brass looking faintly sickly in the glowing green light. Large vials of softly glowing liquid line the walls, feeding into some sort of device. The device runs through the walls and the floor, and up into a plinth in the centre.

On that plinth, being fed into by the processor, is a glass cylinder, barely larger than a syringe, filled with something viscous.

“Just a minute,” Foolish replies to Fit. “They’re arguing about if we grab whatever they’re extracting from the stuff outside or not.”

“The people,” Jaiden elaborates. “What they’re taking from the people.”

“We have to,” Bad is the one looking closest at it. “I don’t have anything to analyse it here, and it has to be important, right?“

“It looks like nitroglycerine,” Philza is frowning. “I’m not sure it’s /safe/ to touch that.”

Safety’s a bit laughable with the amount of blood covering everyone, but Fit understands the point.

Still, they gotta do what they gotta do.

Foolish seems in agreement with that sentiment; he ignores the continuing debate to simply walk over and grab the vial.

An entirely new set of alarms goes off, causing mildly irritated groans to pass around the group; it’s just loud.

Anything the others say with it going on, Fit doesn’t hear; years of working with explosives will do that, even if you have the sort of protection Fit has only recently learnt exists.

“Alright,” Fit waves for attention from the din. “Away from the door. I don’t think it’ll blow through, but this place is crap. I’ve seen lean tos more stable than this.”

In the Wasteland, sure, but that still means they were put up in ten minutes and not meant to last longer than a night.

There is not a lot of cover in this room, but they make do; Foolish and Philza, the least injured of the five, tuck themselves into the corners, using the wall itself as a shield. Fit, Jaiden, and Bad? They just about manage to be entirely covered by the machinery feeding into the glass. It’s not much better than the wall, but it’s made of metal and not shit concrete.

Fit gives a count of three for them to cover their ears, and hits the detonator.

The door does not blow in, and the walls do hold, but even with all his calculations the ceiling does crack. It doesn’t fall, though, so he considers it a win. They let the dust settle, then scramble back up.

“You three get out first, we’ll cover you,” comes Philza’s order.

With even more alarms and reinforcements surely on the way, there is no point in arguing or quibbling over who is incharge; Foolish passes Bad the vial, and the trio run.

Well, no, Fit cannot run - while the painkillers are working, the numbing effect has worn off. It hurts again, now, and he can feel where movement tugs at the dressings. Bad sees him stumble and offers an arm, helping him on while Jaiden runs ahead to lay the flares and call Niki back down.

They do not talk, busy with the necessity of movement. Behind them, Fit hears Philza swearing. Bad calls back a ‘language’, and Fit only hopes that Philza has the time to flip him off in return.

It takes forever and no time at all for Niki to appear and drop the ladder. Jaiden does not immediately scramble up, instead waiting for the two of them, picking off any aliens which escape Philza and Foolish’s aims.

Fit lets go of Bad, letting him climb up first. It takes a minute and some deep breathing to prepare himself, but Fit can find it in himself to follow.

He can almost feel the wound tear as he does.

At the top, Bad grabs his arm, hoisting him into the helicopter proper. Fit does not even bother getting to a chair, merely rolling out of the way of the hatch and cussing up a storm.

Bad does not scold him, and that’s a grim thought.

“Sorry,” he still says, when the man approaches. “Stings like a, um, muffin.”

“We’ll handle that later,” Bad sounds chipper, but he frowns as he checks on the dressings and sees blood. Two black hands, nails too long for gloves, press down on it.

Fit grunts, and leans back, watching as Jaiden swings herself in. She strips off her armour, grabbing one of the helicopter’s medical kits to bandage herself up. She looks exhausted; Fit feels it too.

It’s not long after that that Philza and Foolish appear. Fit offers them a wave, as Foolish pulls up the ladder and Philza comes over.

“How is it?” Philza asks.

“The dressings are bloody,” Fit replies. “Still had worse.”

“Well, fuck,” Philza takes over from Bad, who excuses himself to go sit with Foolish. “Pain levels?”

“I’ll live.”

“Fit.”

“What do you want me to day?” Fit asks. “It’s better than the last time I got stabbed through the gut?”

It is not exactly reassuring words for either of them.

“Alright, fuck, I think we have soluble stitches in one of these. Should hold until we get back and someone can fix you up proper,” Philza roots around in his bag, pulling out a couple of packets. “Wouldn’t recommend being conscious, though.”

Being unconscious while injured and on the transport? No fucking way.

“Phil,” Fit just says.

“I know, I know, I just have to fucking say it,” he opens one of the packets, rips off the top layer of dressing, and presses something gooey into the wound. “Try not to bleed out.”

“Trying my fucking best.”

Phil gives him a thin smile. That’s the last of the helicopter ride that Fit actually remembers, except for the fact he did make it back to the Avenger conscious, if delirious.

[sociallyawkwardseal]

Prompt: Fictober: "If you don't stop now--"

Fandom: School Bus Graveyard

Summary: None of the kids can sleep. Based partially off of this image.

Content Warnings: None that I can think of!

Words: 963

“Morning,” Ashlyn said as she shuffled across the kitchen floor, taking a seat on one of the bar stools at the counter. “You guys are up late…”

“We couldn’t sleep,” Logan said, offering a sleepy half-smile as he whisked the bowl. “You couldn’t, either, could you…?”

“Nope.”

“Pretty sure Ty’s awake, too.” Taylor added, stretching her arms above her head. “Our music wasn’t keeping you awake, was it? We tried to keep it pretty quiet, I know you don’t usually sleep with your earplugs in since it’s pretty uncomfy.”

“You’re fine. You guys already have coffee made?” Ashlyn drew a hand closer to her ear, shifting one of the plugs as she watched the coffee pot spit steam out and gurgle.

“Aiden texted and asked us to make some. Guess he knew you were awake? Ty and I don’t really drink it all that much, and Ben didn’t want any, so.”

“Right…” Ashlyn glanced back over her shoulder as Ben tapped the bottom of an empty mug against it—she gingerly took its handle in her fingers and nodded, offering a quiet ‘thanks’ as he turned to go back to the stove. She reached out, taking the coffee pot from its perch and poured herself a cup. “Where is he right now?”

“He went to wash his face off, he should be back in a second. He was still pretty tired, but he said he couldn’t sleep, too.” Logan said. “Do you want pancakes, by the way…?”

“I’m good, but thanks. I don’t really have the biggest appetite right now.”

Taylor reached over to grab her phone from the other side of the counter and opened it—it took her a second, but she quickly lowered the volume of the music playing to the point where it was probably just barely audible to herself and Logan, but still pretty clear to Ashlyn. “‘kay, it is pretty early. Or. Late, I guess, if none of us slept.”

“Yeah…”

“I didn’t expect everyone to be awake.” Tyler, closing the door quietly behind him, grumbled as he stepped into the kitchen. “Aiden, too, I’m guessing?”

“Wouldn’t be everyone without him.” Ashlyn said, glancing back at him. “Are we just trying for an all-nighter again?”

“That’s gonna feel like shit.”

“Sure is, but it’s… What, five in the morning? Your alarms go off in an hour. Mine go off in two.”

“It’s actually about five-twenty.” Aiden beamed, slipping in through the door. “Did you just lay in bed for a few minutes trying to figure out what to do?”

“Kind of. I heard Logan, Taylor, and the music and debated coming in here for a few minutes.”

“Sounds like it was more like twenty minutes.” Tyler quipped lightly, sitting next to her.

“Sounds like you need to cut it out.”

“Can someone hand me the box of mix?” Logan interrupted, glancing behind his shoulder—Aiden was the only one still on his feet and not at the stove. “Or, well. More like just a cup of it. I’m going to make more than just one batch of pancakes since we’re all awake, even if you don’t want some now, it’ll still be good later…”

“Mm?” Aiden leaned down and opened the cabinet, pulling the box out. “Oh, shit, it’s feeling a little light. You sure we’ve got enough for the day?”

“Yeah, there’s a full box towards the back—oh, there should be a measuring cup in there. It’s 1/3rd, so just… Four of those, please.”

Aiden nodded and slid up next to him, dumping three of the cups into the fresh bowl that he had pulled over. “Y’know, you could’ve just added it to the batter you already made, yeah?”

“Ahhh, they might cook wrong if I do that…” Logan half-laughed, waving his hand for a moment. He put the bowl of already-mixed batter a little bit behind Taylor. “I wouldn’t want to risk it… Oh, you can take the measuring cup out of there. I shouldn’t need it anymore, I just forgot to get it out earlier. Taylor? Don’t lean back, your hair will get caught in it…”

“Cool, got it.” Aiden pulled the scoop out, ignoring the small bit of mix still caught inside of it, closed the lid of the box, and put it next to Logan. His eyes drifted from the contents of the scoop towards Tyler briefly, only to return to the scoop once he had nudged the bag back into the cabinet. “Hey, Tyler.”

“Yeah?” He glanced up, looking past Ashlyn—when he saw Aiden’s hands, lightly dusted with mix, one still holding the scoop, he narrowed his eyes. “Oh, hell no. What are you doing with that?”

“Nothin’, just got some extra mix here. Can’t really put it in the sink.”

“Yeah?” Tyler stood, moving towards the door. “Can’t really put it on me, either.”

“Or what?” Aiden teased, pulling a small amount out of the cup and flicking it at him.

“Hey! If you don’t stop now—”

Without letting him finish, Aiden thrust a small cloud of powder hidden inside of his palm towards Tyler, laughing lightheartedly as it coated the side of his face and shoulder.

“Oh, now you’ve done it.” Tyler hissed, wiping flour away from his eye; he moved closer to Aiden, hooking his arm under his as he pulled him closer. “Come here! Give it here!”

Aiden, laughing, pressed one of his pancake mix-covered hands against the clean side of Tyler’s face. “Nope, nope, not getting it!”

In their struggle, flour had managed to coat both of their hands, ending up on various parts of their arms, faces, and clothes.

“Guys, come on…” Taylor laughed, watching them wrestle against each other. “All of the mix is probably gone now. And all over you.”

[fandom-imagines-stories]

All For One

Musketeers Comfort Imagine

Words: 3525

Summary: In preparing for her trials to become a Musketeer, the reader’s anxiety begins to get the better of her. Luckily, she has the four best friends anyone could ask for. 

Notes: Another comfort imagine dealing with anxiety and burnout because *mental illness* I needed this haha. Thank you end of the semester struggles. Like my Pogues imagine, this doesn’t have any specific ships, but since Aramis and D’Artagnan are my favorites, I may or may not show a little bias. I also really wanted to capture the feeling of them riding off together at the end of the season because that’s one of my favorite parts of the show, so hopefully that came across. 

Find more Musketeers: HERE

-

They all knew something was off. Though it was early and most were still half asleep, exhausted by the night before’s activities, they saw with enough clarity to know that you were not yourself. 

You ate your breakfast swiftly- though, poking at your bread could hardly be considered eating- and in silence. You hardly responded to Aramis’s daily teasing, something that had become like a ritual for the two of you, or to Porthos’s suggestion of close combat training later in the day. Worst of all, your eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, though you kept them downcast to try and hide them. 

Once you’d hurried off, the four men at the table exchanged worried looks. 

“What’s wrong with her?” Porthos asked. 

“Nerves maybe,” D’Artagnan observed. “She’s going before Treville next week. I know I was terrified when it was my turn to prove myself.” 

“And especially difficult for her,” Aramis added. He gazed after you and shook his head. “But there’s something else. I don’t think it’s just nerves.” The way you’d looked at him just moments before, with eyes both pleading and yet… empty. It worried him. “We should do something.” 

“I don’t think that would be wise,” Athos said. He stood from the table and put on his hat. “We should let her come to us. If we try to force her, well-” he blew out a breath. “We all know how that’s gone in the past.” 

The other three nodded mournfully. 

It was odd. You were one of the more open of the group, but all of them could agree, when something was truly and deeply wrong, you always tried to keep it to yourself, though none could understand why. 

“We can’t just leave her like that,” D’Artagnan said. “There must be something we can do.”

“Just be patient,” Athos nodded. “She knows we’re here for her.” 

Does she? Aramis couldn’t help but think. While they’d made it clear that you were a part of their group and they all cared for you very deeply, he’d picked up hints that you didn’t quite believe it. Whether or not this was just your mind playing tricks on you, he was determined to show it to you. He turned to the others and a wordless understanding passed between them. They nodded, all feeling the same as he did. 

They’d make sure you knew you were one of them, even if they spent all day proving it. 

-

You started the day with close combat, asking Porthos to help as usual, since he was the very best. You hoped the physicalness of the exercise would help wake up your tired senses and give your on-edge body something to fight. Your limbs pleaded for a distraction from their tension while your head desperately tried to focus. 

How could you be so exhausted and so unstable at the same time? 

“You sure you’re ready?” Porthos asked. When he’d agreed to train, he hadn’t noticed just how tense you were. You paced in front of him like a street cat afraid of its own shadow. While he never used the full of his strength when sparring with you, he feared more than usual he might hurt you if this were to go on. 

“I’m always ready,” you said with a little more venom than you’d intended. He narrowed his eyes and you ignored the concern you could see in his gaze. “I don’t have all day, let us begin.” You ran at him before he could object. 

Porthos braced for your first hit- a punch toward his shoulder and counter-attacked with a swing at your legs. You jumped and kicked his knee while propelling yourself upward for another hit to his chest, launching away from the impact. You both fell back into the dirt but were on your feet in seconds. 

Porthos raised a brow. “Alright, love. That’s how we’re playing it.” 

You took a deep breath and went again. 

The fight was fiercer than you’d ever done before. Porthos seemed to struggle to keep up with you. He may have his strength, but your agility proved vital. At one point, you were able to climb onto his back, arm around his neck. Your body locked up and all you could focus on was the pounding of adrenaline in your head. 

“Y/N!” Athos shouted. 

The other three rushed over to the two of you and you suddenly realized that Porthos had hit his knees and was smacking at your legs to let him go. You gasped and jumped off of him. 

“Porthos, I am so, so sorry. I didn’t even realize- are you hurt?” You stammered. 

He coughed, breathing in with deep, hurried breaths to take in as much air as he could. Aramis knelt in front of him, dark eyes flicking over to you with more questions than you gave him time to ask. 

You brushed off and tried to hide the rising panic in your voice as it squeezed at your chest. “Guess I got carried away, huh?” 

“Only a little,” Porthos wheezed. 

You feigned a smile, turning to Athos. “I’ll go easier on you later, I promise.” It was meant to be a jest, but neither of you laughed. 

With your body locking up again, you got away before any of them could see the weakness threatening to overtake you. Once out of view, your fist flew, striking the wall and scraping your knuckles. 

“I wouldn’t give her a weapon,” Porthos shuddered as Aramis helped him to his feet. 

“She doesn’t seem like she’s going to take no for an answer,” Athos said. 

Aramis sighed. “This is worse than I thought.” 

“I’ll say,” Porthos grunted. 

“She needs to get out of here.” D’Artagnan stared after you with a pained expression. “All of this practice is getting to her. She’s pushed herself too far.” He swung his sword in front of him in frustration. “But how do we get her to take a break? She’s far too stubborn and worried about Treville.”

The four of them pondered this problem for a moment, eventually hearing you start up again, practicing with your sword with barely a minute’s rest. 

“I’ll talk to her,” Aramis sighed. “The three of you come up with something.” 

“And how do you propose we do that?” Athos asked. 

Aramis shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” 

-

You loaded the musket with relative ease, but he could see how your hands were shaking. Of all of the skills you had to master before facing Treville’s scrutiny, your marksmanship was by far your weakest, despite Aramis assuring you otherwise. Why else would he have suggested you practice it now, rather than after your duel with D’Artagnan and Athos? He didn’t believe you were good enough, you could feel it. 

“Take a deep breath and relax your body just like I showed you,” he instructed. 

“I know, I know,” you said. 

Aramis stood behind you as you aimed at an empty wine bottle at the other end of the field. He wasn’t used to you being so closed off to him. In truth, he’d brought you out here with the hope of helping you clear your head, but he seemed to only have made it worse. At least this way, you weren’t directly aiming a weapon at anyone. Given what happened with you and Porthos, he doubted giving you a sword would end well for anyone. 

“Alright, ready?” He stepped just enough into your line of vision. 

You ignored him and took the shot. 

The bottle remained standing, mocking you from afar. 

“Damn,” you muttered, already loading the musket again before he could say anything. 

“Y/N, perhaps-”

“I can get it.” You took aim and fired. A tree trunk several yards from the bottle splintered from the impact. A frustrated growl tore through your chest. What was wrong with you? 

You forcefully set the musket back down, readying to load it for another try. Aramis’s hand covered yours before you could. 

“Y/N, wait,” he said softly. “I think I know what’s happening.” 

“What’s happening is that I’m not ready,” you snapped, more at yourself than at him. “And I only have a few more days to get it right or else I’ll never be a musketeer and all of this would be for nothing and-” Your words caught in your throat even before he held up a hand to stop you. 

Aramis laid his hand on your cheek. 

“You’ve worked yourself to the bone for weeks, darling.” He gave you a small smile. “You’re so exhausted you can hardly see straight. Am I correct?” 

There was still a part of you that wanted to fight him. To deny everything he’d said. Tired meant weakness and you couldn’t bear it if any of them saw you that way. But with his dark, caring eyes looking into yours, there was nothing you could say. 

You bit your lip to keep it from trembling. 

He pulled you into his arms. 

“There,” he sighed, running a soothing hand up and down your spine. “It’s alright. You’re just working too hard, that’s all. It’s alright.” He pulled back, kissed your forehead, and looked down at you. “Better?” 

You shrugged, wiping away tears you hadn’t realized had fallen. “Maybe you’re right.” 

He smirked. “I’m always right, darling.” 

With an arm slung around your shoulders, he led you back to the courtyard of the garrison where your other three friends stood next to their horses. Aramis and your horses had been saddled and awaited their riders. 

“What’s this?” You asked, Aramis handing your musket off to one of the stableboys to put away. 

“You are leaving,” D’Artagnan grinned. “Well, all of us are leaving, of course. We’ve all decided that we could all use a break from Paris. You, especially, Y/N.” 

“I can’t leave,” you scoffed. “There’s so much to do still! I need to stay and practice and…” You trailed off, as Aramis gave your hand a gentle tug toward the others. 

“Paris will still be here tomorrow,” Athos said. He watched you with a raised brow. “As will Treville and all of your training. One of the things you need to learn about being a soldier is knowing your limits, Y/N. You cannot help anyone if you can no longer help yourself. Besides-” He held up a bulging saddlebag which clinked as it moved. “I already bought the wine.” 

“I for one think it’s a magnificent idea,” Aramis beamed. “I’m jealous I hadn’t thought of it before. We could all use a day away, don’t you think, Y/N?” 

You took a deep breath. There was so much left to be done. You still needed to perfect your marksmanship, ready your fencing strategy, and work on hand-to-hand without strangling your sparring partner this time. The pressure of it all lingered in your chest as you gazed at the four wonderful men who’d helped you this far. 

But they were right. How could you possibly hope to achieve your goals if you overworked your body to the point of disaster? 

“Alright, I’ll go.” 

All four erupted in cheers. Porthos even lifted you up, tossed you over his shoulder, and spun around, eliciting a squealing laugh from your lips. When he set you down again, he kissed your cheek and gave you the biggest smile you’d ever seen. 

“It’s been far too long since I’ve heard that sound,” he said. 

The others all grinned in agreement and your group of five mounted your horses. You looked back at the garrison as the city passed by and spotted the field where you'd been practicing with the musket. The mocking bottle remained in its spot, untouched. 

Aramis followed your gaze and chuckled. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it,” he nodded. “Just not today.” Aramis reached over and put a hand on your shoulder. “And that’s perfectly fine.”

You nodded in return and urged your horse forward, away from Paris and your responsibilities and your anxieties. You let them fall away with the pounding of hooves against the road and the laughter of your friends in the air. 

-

The sweet summer air filled your lungs, banishing the lingering scent of the city. Wildflowers lined the path, the soft earth shifting under your feet as you leaned down into a starting position. 

“I thought the whole point of this was to get away from training,” D’Artagnan teased, taking the same stance beside you. Aramis stood in between, arms raised for the signal. 

“Ready?” He glanced excitedly at both of you. “Set.”

“This isn’t training, D’Artagnan,” you laughed. “This is fun!” 

“Go!” 

You flew down the path, your legs sprinting as fast as they could carry you while D’Artagnan raced next to you. He started in the lead, but as you neared the tree at the end of the lane- your predetermined finish line- you began to gain on him. Your hair whipped around your face but you kept your eyes open and focused on that tree. 

The three cheered both of you on, all favoring you for the victory. Their hollering only increased when you finally surpassed your opponent, keeping just a step ahead of him all the way to the end. 

When you turned to gloat in your victory, however, you failed to see one of the tree’s roots stretched out in front of you. Your foot caught and, in your attempt to save yourself, your hand latched onto your competitor’s arm and dragged him down with you. 

D’Artagnan tumbled, the two of you rolling down the small hill behind the tree. Grass and flower petals broke your fall and burst up into the air as you landed with you on top and D’Artagnan sprawled out beneath you, both of your cackling filling the air.

“I’m-” You snorted. “I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” Your words were hardly understandable between your snickers. 

“I’m fine, are you?” His heaving laughs lifted your head which laid on his chest. You peered up at him, taking in his sparkling eyes and bright smile. You couldn’t help but feel all of your worries from before fade away. 

After a moment, the other three appeared over you, looking down and shaking their heads. 

“I would say Y/N is the winner, but seeing as she’s also the one that caused this unfortunate spell…” Porthos started. He helped you up with a smirk and you playfully punched his arm. 

“I agree with Porthos,” D’Artagnan said, brushing himself off. 

“Clumsy or not, I’m still faster,” you fired back. 

“Perhaps a rematch is in order.” 

“You should know by now, D’Artagnan.” You stepped toward him so that you were only inches apart. “I never back down from a challenge.” 

Aramis put a hand in between you two. “Alright, I think that’s quite enough competition for the day.” His deep laugh brought more warmth to your chest. “We should make camp soon anyway before the sun sets.” 

You pointed a finger at the youngest musketeer and smirked. “This isn’t over.” 

He bowed dramatically. “I look forward to it.” D’Artagnan hurried ahead to start the fire, his laughter still ringing through the air, and you strolled alongside the other three. 

Aramis removed a leaf from your hair and tucked the strand behind your ear. He held up a hand to his ear. 

“Listen,” he said. “Do you hear that?” 

“I hear nothing,” you shrugged. 

“Exactly.” He breathed in deeply with a content smile. “Isn’t it wonderful?” 

You scoffed. “Aramis, I give us all two days before we’re begging to get back to the noise and excitement of Paris.” You poked a finger at his chest. “You especially.” 

He opened his mouth to argue but found that he couldn’t. Instead, he chuckled and held out his arm. 

“Fair enough. But it is a break well deserved nonetheless.” 

You beamed, taking his arm. “That it is.” 

You all sat around the fire, eating rabbit that Aramis had shot earlier and Porthos roasted over the flames with a bottle of wine for each of you. D’Artagnan and Aramis sat across from you while you and Porthos spent dinner discussing your technique in sparring earlier in the day. 

“I am sorry again,” you said, putting a hand on his arm. “I hope I didn’t injure you too badly.”

“Just his pride!” Aramis chimed from across the fire. 

Porthos tossed a pebble at his head. 

This, of course, prompted a small battle between the three of them, picking up various projectiles from the forest floor and trying to hit each other. In the midst of their antics, you saw Athos from his place leaning against a far tree. He motioned for you to follow him. 

Having always been a little frightened of the leader of the group, you gulped, believing to be in some kind of trouble with him. Athos’s intensity was known throughout the musketeers, along with his skill with a sword and leadership. 

He led you in a perimeter around the small camp you’d made without saying anything at first, which of course only increased your returning anxiety. 

“I know you believe that you don’t belong here,” he finally said. His words were so blunt, you didn’t know how to respond and he continued. “I wanted to tell you that you have nothing to worry about, which I know isn’t very helpful given how you’re feeling.” 

“Unfortunately, it isn’t,” you sighed. “Though I appreciate your encouragement.”

“It isn’t merely encouragement, Y/N.” He stopped walking to look at you with that same intensity. “I believe it. I’ve never seen someone work with as much passion as you do. With as much tenacity and willingness to learn. Half of the men in the musketeers think they already know everything about the world, but you-” An impressed laugh made his blue eyes shine. “You have done more to learn and to improve than anyone I’ve ever seen. It’s no wonder you’ve exhausted yourself so much. It’s remarkable it hasn’t happened sooner.” 

You opened your mouth to rebuke his claims, to deny your skills and deprecate the work you’d done, but he put a hand on your shoulder that silenced you. 

“I would be honored to serve alongside you.” 

“Athos I-” You blinked back tears. “I don’t know what to say.” 

“Just promise me you won’t end our practices the way you ended with Porthos and I’ll be content with that,” he teased. “Let’s get back before they cause any trouble, hm?” 

As the two of you returned to the group, you felt so overwhelmed by the feelings stirring in your chest. But this wasn’t from anxiety or overworking yourself. You were just so grateful, gazing over the crowd of your four closest friends, that you couldn’t contain it. It spilled out onto your cheeks with joyous tears. 

Aramis noticed you first and his face immediately morphed with concern. 

“What have you done, Athos?” He leaped to his feet, soon joined by the other three as they scrambled to your side. “What’s the matter, Y/N, my dear?” 

“Nothing,” you laughed through your crying. “Athos has been nothing but kind, I promise. I just…” You took a deep breath. In one hand, you took Aramis’s, intertwining your fingers, and with your other, you took Athos’s. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.” 

“You would do the same for any of us,” D’Artagnan said. “It’s the least we can do after all of the work you’ve put in.”

“Work that has not been ignored by Treville,” Athos added. “I believe he admires you even more than we do.” 

“If that’s even possible,” Aramis said with a wink. 

“Well, I can’t thank you all enough for taking care of me like this.”

Aramis glanced around the others with a mischievous twitch of his mustache. 

“All for one,” he said, twirling you around so that you landed in Porthos’s arms. 

“And one for all,” Porthos finished, lowering you into a dip. 

“You are all imbeciles. Now let me go,” you squealed merrily as they spun you around again. By the time you’d danced with all four of them, you were all dizzy enough that you collapsed beside each other in a heap of laughter.

My musketeers. You couldn’t help but think with your head on Aramis’s shoulder and your legs stretched out over D’Artagnan’s. You remembered why you were so adamant to join the regiment in the first place. To be one of them. You knew now that, no matter what happened in the coming weeks, you always would be. 

The stars twinkled over your heads as the fire died down. You let out a sigh and felt content. 

“I love you all,” you whispered into the night. “Even if you are idiots.” 

Aramis chuckled beneath you. “And we you.” He kissed the top of your head. 

D’Artagnan poked at your calf. “Even if you are stubborn.” 

“Some of us are trying to sleep,” Porthos whined, but you could hear the smirk in his voice. 

You settled again and heard Athos sit up. He placed his cloak over you as a blanket. 

“Rest well, Y/N.” 

And you did.