#no seriously how has it infected me this thoroughly

[trash-but-trying]

Not me quoting evidence outweighs testimony without even thinking about tlt until after when i realize.

[winchesterwild78]

A Father's Love

Characters: Jensen x reader (wife), Julie-Jensen and reader’s daughter

Warnings: Mention of childhood illness, slight angst, slight injury, 

A/N: This idea was given to me by @cheekygirl2309, I hope this brings your vision to light. This was written fast-at the doctor’s office today, and not checked thoroughly for errors. Please overlook them. No disrespect to Jensen or his family, this is a work of fiction and I gave his daughter a different name. I know the gif is of him and his real daughter, but it was too adorable not to use.

All work is my own, please do not take it or copy it. 

*If you have story ideas or requests, feel free to let me know.*

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

The day had started off as any other. Jensen was off filming, and you were at home with your five-year-old daughter, Julie. She was a bright, bubbly little girl, but today, something was off. She said she just missed Jensen, so you drove her to school with the promise of FaceTiming Jensen later. 

A few hours later, sitting at your desk at work, your phone rang. “Hello?” “Hello, may I speak to Mrs. Ackles?” “This is her.” “Hi, Mrs. Ackles, this is Nurse Jones from Main Street Elementary. I have Julie in my office and she’s not feeling well. She has a fever of 102, and needs to be picked up.” “Oh my goodness, I’m on my way.” You grabbed your stuff and left for the day. 

As soon as you saw her, you knew something was seriously wrong. She was pale and listless, and all she wanted was her daddy. Julie was a daddy's girl through and through, and Jensen was an incredible father. He always knew how to make her smile, no matter what.

You tried to FaceTime Jensen, but he didn't answer. Julie became more upset, and you started to panic. Finally, you managed to get in touch with him. When you told him that Julie had a fever of 102, he was immediately trying to get home.

Taking Julie to the hospital, you were a bundle of nerves. The doctor examined her and said she had a serious bacterial infection. Julie would need to stay in the hospital for observation and treatment.

You were alone, scared, and worried about your little girl. The days that followed were a blur. You missed Jensen terribly, and Julie missed her daddy even more. She would cry and ask for him constantly.

“I want my daddy.” She sobbed. “I know baby girl, daddy is trying to get home to you.” You stifled tears. Your little girl was getting worse and you needed your husband. 

“Mrs. Ackles, we need to run some more tests on her. She’s not responding to the treatment. We are going to take some more blood and do a few more scans. It will take a few hours until she’s back, why don’t you go to the cafeteria or leave the hospital for some rest.” The doctor told you. “No thank you. I’m perfectly happy right here waiting for her.” They nodded and started to wheel her out. You kissed her head and told her you loved her. “Daddy loves you too, ladybug, so much.”

A few hours later Julie was being wheeled back in. You had fallen asleep on the chair and were startled awake by the banging of the bed on the door. 

The nurse offered you a soft smile, “Sorry, Mrs. Ackles. We didn’t mean to startle you. She did great, and we should get the results shortly.” You nodded and smiled sleepily at her. 

Julie looked at you with her daddy’s green eyes and smiled a little. “They said I’m a big girl, because I had to go do the big tests.” “Oh wow, I bet that means you’re really growing now. You’re going to be as tall as daddy. She chuckled weakly.”  

You laid in the bed beside her and pulled her close. “Mama, when’s daddy coming?” You looked at your daughter and a twinge of sadness filled you. You weren’t sure if or when he was coming. 

“I know daddy will be here as soon as he’s able to. You know he’s far away, but when I told daddy you weren’t feeling good he told me he was coming.” 

She smiled and snuggled to your side. “Mama, I’m a little hungry.” “Okay baby girl, let me see if you can eat something. Maybe I can get you some Graham crackers or something.” She grinned. 

You rang the call bell and the nurse answered. You told her Julie was a little hungry. She told you she would see what the doctor said and come in and let you know. 

A few minutes later the nurse walked in with a small tray of jello and pudding, Graham crackers and some juice. “The doctor said she can eat whatever she can stomach since she’s not vomiting.”

Julie sat up and giggled. “Mommy I get all this, just for me?” “Whatever your tummy can handle, baby.” She looked at the pudding and jello cups. She pointed to the chocolate pudding, “this one first, please.” 

You helped her open the lid and she started eating. 

You turned on the TV and was looking for something for her to watch. As you were scrolling you saw Jensen’s face. It was Supernatural. Julie’s eyes lit up, “Daddy!” You smiled. 

She continued eating and finally fell asleep. You were laying beside her rubbing her head, waiting for the doctor. She started to wake up about an hour later. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Jensen arrived at the hospital. Seeing him walk through the door was like a ray of sunshine. He rushed to Julie's bedside, and she immediately clung to him.

“Daddy!” Julie threw her arms around his neck. When he leaned down he kissed her head and leaned over placing a kiss on your lips. 

“Hey baby girl. How are you feeling?” “I’m okay, daddy. I want to go home.” 

“I know baby, but we have to get you better before we do that.” Her lip poked out. 

Jensen turned to you and pulled you into his arms. The tears you’d been holding back for days finally fell. “Shhh it’s okay sweetheart, I’m here. I’m so sorry. I tried everything to get back here. Finally got in touch with Kripke and he sent his jet to pick me up. Have the doctors said anything?” 

After composing yourself you finally updated Jensen. “So right now we are just waiting. They know it’s a bacterial infection, but they don’t know where it’s at or why it isn’t responding to treatment. They just took her today for more tests and bloodwork.”

“Daddy, I'm a big girl. I got the big tests.” “You are a big girl, you're my big girl.” Jensen climbed in the bed beside her and she climbed in his lap. 

“Daddy I missed you so much.” Her arms count to his neck. “I know, baby girl. I got here as fast as I could. Uncle Eric let me borrow his jet.” Her eyes got big. 

A few hours later the doctor came in and told you and Jensen he still wasn’t sure what was causing the infection, but they know what treatment to use. He ordered the IV antibiotic and said they would monitor Julie. She had to stay at least one more night.”

Jensen held Julie as she drifted off to sleep. He reached out and took your hand. “Sweetheart? Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m just really tired and worried about Julie. I’ll be fine.” 

Jensen was rubbing your hand, “baby you’re exhausted. Why don’t you go home and catch up on some sleep.” 

“I’ll be okay. I don’t want to leave her.” “Sweetheart, I know but you’re going to wear yourself out. Please go home and take a few hours to yourself. I’m here. I’ve got both my girls.” 

Jensen placed a soft kiss on your lips. You sighed, a hot shower, some food and some sleep does sound wonderful. 

“Okay Jens, I’ll go home, shower and take a nap. If you need me you better call.” 

Jensen grinned, “Baby I promise we are going to be fine. Now go take care of yourself too.” 

You nodded, kissed him and Julie then walked out of the room. 

As you were walking towards the exit you felt dizzy. Thinking it was the lack of sleep and food you kept walking. 

You pushed the button to call the elevator and the next thing you knew everything was spinning and the room turned black. 

You collapsed on the ground. The doctors and nurses ran to your side. You were unconscious. 

Julie’s nurse ran in and got Jensen. He came running out to your side as you were coming to. 

You were being placed on a gurney for testing and to check you over. When you fell you hit your head so they needed to check you for a concussion. 

Trying to protest all the fuss, you tried to get up. Jensen stood by you, “sweetheart, you passed out. We need to find out why. You’re no good to Julie or me if you’re not 100%. Please let them check you.” 

You knew he was right, so you gave in. “Okay, but we need to hurry so Julie isn’t alone.” 

Jensen cupped your face, “Baby she isn’t going to be alone, you need to focus on yourself right now.” 

The doctor orderd some blood work and a scan to check for a concussion. You convinced them to let you go to Julie’s room while you waited for the results. 

It was well past midnight when they came in with the results. Jensen had fallen asleep next to Julie, but you were awake watching tv and keeping an eye on Jensen and Julie. 

You loved watching them and seeing their love for each other. From the moment Jensen found out you were pregnant with Julie he was head over heels in love with her. When she was born she definitely had him wrapped around her finger. 

Before the doctor gave you your results you gently woke Jensen up. 

The doctor told you there was no indication of a concussion, however your blood work showed you were severely anemic. “Mrs Ackles I want you to start taking iron pills, and your blood work indicated something else.” Jensen sat up and took your hand.

“Mrs Ackles, congratulations, you’re pregnant. That is possibly why you passed out. Between not resting or eating properly while you’ve been here, your body just got overworked. I want you to take iron, prenatal vitamins and eat and rest when you can.” 

Tears streamed down your face. You and Jensen had wanted another baby for a few years now. 

Jensen thanked the doctor as the doctor was leaving. He carefully got out of the bed and pulled you into his arms, “Sweetheart, you’re pregnant. We’re having another baby.” He smiled and kissed your lips. 

“Oh Jensen. I can’t believe it. We’re having another baby.” He wiped the tears away that were falling. 

He looked at your sleeping little girl, “I can’t wait to tell her. She’s going to be so excited.” You chuckled softly, “Only if it’s a boy. You know she doesn’t want to share her daddy.” 

Jensen smirked, “yeah she is a daddy’s girl for sure. I’d be okay with a boy. We already have our little girl, now we need our boy.” You nodded, “Yeah I think I could handle being the favorite parent.” You laughed and Jensen smirked. “Hey, I can’t help it, she's a daddy’s girl, but she loves her mama too. Speaking of which, come on, you need your rest. Lay down with her and I’ll take the chair. Don’t want my girls or baby sleeping in an uncomfortable position.” 

Jensen helped you get into the bed next to Julie. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him as you drifted off to sleep. 

When you met him almost 7 years ago you knew he was the love of your life and would be an amazing father one day. Never in your wildest dreams did you think he’d be so much more than you imagined. 

Around 8am you woke up to the sound of your daughter and Jensen giggling. When you opened your eyes you saw Julie, looking so much better, out of the bed and playing with Jensen. 

Jensen saw you awake, “Hey, Julie, look who’s awake.” Julie jumped up and crawled beside you, “Mommy! I feel so much better now.” “Oh baby, that's great news.” Jensen walked over to the bed, “Doc said she’s responding to treatment, fever is gone and she’s going to get to go home today.” 

You smiled, “Oh that’s great. I can’t wait to get her home.” 

A few hours later the three of you were back home. Julie had been sent home with some more medicine and you had your iron and prenatal vitamins. You still couldn’t believe you were pregnant. 

After Julie was settled you went upstairs to take a shower. Before getting into the shower you looked at your belly in the mirror. Placing a hand over it you whispered, “You are already so loved little one. I can’t wait to meet you and you to meet your big sister and your incredible daddy.” 

A short time later you were showered and in comfortable clothes. You heard giggles from downstairs and found Jensen and Julie playing.

As youwatched them together, you realized how lucky you were to have such a loving and supportive family. Jensen was the best father a child could ask for, and you knew that Julie would be okay as long as she had him and you by her side.

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[tailsrevane]

[tv review] tos 1x04 "the naked time" (1966)

everybody gets space drunk, tos edition!

it’s just super strange that both tos and tng decided to do this sort of plot so early on in the show when you barely know the characters, but at least in tos’s case the characters are so broad and surface-level that i’m not sure it actually makes that big of a difference.

the tng version of this is honestly a better all-around episode, but this one has the benefit of some of the most wonderfully campy scenes in all of trek. the first is literally how the infection starts. spock and a random redshirt (well, blueshirt technically) beam down to a planet wearing “isolation suits” that look basically like bubble mailers. to make matters even more hilarious, the random blueshirt TAKES HIS GLOVE OFF and sticks his hand UNDER HIS HOOD TO RUB HIS FACE. it is hilariously dumb on this character’s part, but also demonstrates how thoroughly useless the suits are.

later, this same blueshirt loses his shit and threatens everyone with a fucking butter knife? but the other characters and show take this completely seriously? and my fiancx cracked up and said ve was picturing jett reno from discovery in that same situation looking at the guy and just deadpanning, “seriously? you’re threatening me with a butter knife?” anyway, the character stabs himself, and eventually fucking dies??? and mccoy says it makes no sense because “his wounds were not that severe” and like… i know, my dude. it was a butter knife, how did he even have wounds???

there’s plenty more camp to be had throughout the episode, but the other one that really left a lasting impression for me was kirk smacking spock around. i guess we now canonically know that spock is a sad drunk and kirk is an angry drunk.

oh, wait, one more! mccoy dramatically ripping kirk’s sleeve to give him a hypospray was B-A-N-A-N-A-S.

c-rank

[prestonhau]

COVID-19 Impending Doom?

Preston Hau

Much of the world became aware of COVID-19 December 2019, when Wuhan, China reported seafood and poultry had infected several people. A few months later, the United States declared a state of emergency and began its closure, finally ending flights, implementing curfews and  masks and other safety precautions. 

The Los Angeles Times article, written a year later, successfully illustrates the fear and turmoil Americans have been feeling in the past year, and continuously so, without a clear end in sight. The worry is another surge to come if Americans stop taking those safety measures seriously, whether because of an overly-optimistic belief in the vaccines to work, or simply, as the track record has shown in the past year, a lack of care, or even, a disbelief. 

The past year raised those same questions again. The questions of what we should do as people, and a nation as a whole. 17 years ago, in Hong Kong, many of us saw what happened when a city was unprepared for an outbreak. Personally, I saw what happened when some families were ignored in the time of need. It frustrates me to hear people speak of this global pandemic as if it were a lie, a conspiracy, or some sort of social oppression. The willful ignorance of so many in this greatest country baffled me, and hurt me.

I remember the first time I saw her face. It was the summer of 2003, and she was speaking on television. We were both 8 years old at the time. She was talking about losing her father. She and her little sister spoke tenderly of a good man. A lawyer who’d just flown to China from Hong Kong for work. When he came back, not a year later he passed away. Her father died of SARs that year. Fall came and my mother caught her mother at the schoolyard and picked up a conversation, and Petrina, Ariel and I have been friends since. We still call during holidays. I spent a few Thanksgiving with them as an adult. Auntie Karen, ever the strong single mother, took her two daughters to the United States (they had citizenship) a year later because of her frustration over how the Hong Kong government handled the outbreak at the time.

That family was a constant reminder to me of the strong reality of mortality. Petrina dedicated her adult life to epidemiology, currently in London studying for her PhD in this exact subject. Her life has been heavily molded by what happened to her father, and the notion that people argue this virus isn’t real, is extremely disrespectful to the people who have passed during this tragedy. This past year, some Americans have certainly shown themselves to be so absorbed in their own world, the idea that people may be dying from a global pandemic cannot even be fathomed in their eyes. 

For the past 14 years, my hands have been thoroughly washed. I use community utensils when eating family style with other people. I grew up often seeing people wearing masks- yes, those same medical masks people in the United States are fighting so hard to not have to wear them. The adjustment wasn’t that strange. What was bizarre was the intense rebellion against these safety measures. I believe Trevor Noah from the Daily Show made this point early-on in the quarantine, that the United States was able to turn a health issue into a political one. In the divisive time of 2020, The pandemic did come into a politically tumultuous moment. The president of the time, in an effort to maintain some kind of control, continuously turned the issue into a story of foreign attack, or a political one by the democrats, and further perpetuated this notion that it was a nothing-burger. This nothing-burger was what took us from minimal cases to the highest in the world.

According to the New York Times, W.H.O. declared a global emergency on January 31st, but the United States, through the bumbling and denial, finally demanded no public gathering, and other mandates on March 15th. By March 26th, the United States found itself at the top of the charts in reported cases. The disbelief in this pandemic is truly one that stemmed from political manipulation. To dismiss the world-wide evidence of COVID-19’s existence, or even the records of safety measures minimizing cases shown from countries like New Zealand, or even my home, Hong Kong, is choosing to not see a very clear picture. 

This is the fear Rochelle Walensky expressed when she said she’s having recurring thoughts of an “impending doom.” It is the country’s eagerness to return back to the state of normalcy, or as demonstrated this past year, a refusal to adapt to new circumstances. The United States is one of the greatest countries in the world- apex in terms of the resources and wealth of knowledge that belongs here. If need be, this country can be completely safe. 

Yet, the same individualism that defines America’s greatest, could potentially, or have continuously been its own downfall. The right to disbelief, the right to refuse and the right to believe in something other than what is told, therein lies the danger of the United States. The vaccines are here. It exists, and people can freely go get it. Yet, the ideas, or information, evidence, that has been floating around the American ether, has rendered a lot of people confused. Theories of the vaccine being a tool for mind control is often used to argue against the use of it. Or if we go back a year ago and the common rhetoric that the “WuHan virus” was a chemical attack from China to shut down and disrupt the American economy. These ideas, be it true or not, have caused enough confusion in the general population of the United States, where the country may have a difficult time getting back to normal. That is the fear the LA Times article poses; American’s inability to unify and slowdown to adjust to the outbreak. Rather, what seems to be more likely is the country’s inability to develop its herd immunity due to such a division in beliefs. That people will refuse the vaccine out of fear, and open the world back up to a COVID-19 riddled world. This American-centrinism could be the death of this country. 

[theeslytherinslut]

The Perpetual Freak (1/?)

Pairings: Sirius Black x reader, Marauders x reader

Warnings: Mention of bullying,

Word Count: 2,063

The Beginning

“Twitch,

Just 4 days now--like I need to tell you, likely been counting down the days all bloody Holiday, haven’t you? We’ll be there Sept 1st at 10 on the dot, we should make it to King’s Cross by 11 that way. Be ready this time, won’t you? I think Padfoot just might actually hex your grandmother if he has to make small talk with her again, but can you blame him? Anyway, we’ll be there at 10. Don’t forget Jinx this time. I don’t fancy being attacked once he breaks out of your grandmother’s house.

P.S Sirius said he’ll be on his best behavior--does that make you nervous too?

See you soon,

Prongs (& Padfoot)

The letter lay in the same spot on your cracked cherrywood desk since you received it. Though short and to the point, you’d reread it many times, hoping somehow the more you read it, the faster the day would come.

Holidays were hell. Being a muggle-born, there was always a bit of an adjustment period after coming home from Hogwarts for a break--an adjustment period usually aided by parents and family--however, this could not have been further from the truth for you.

“Y/N!” As if on cue, your Grandmother's angry call shot up the stairs. Cringing, you held your breath as you walked down the stairs into the kitchen. She stood with her blue gingham apron covered in flour, as well as most of the floor and countertop.

“If this bloody bird scratches my window one-more-time,” she said the words through clenched teeth, glaring at you from across the room. Her stacked icy grey curls bobbled on her head as she shouted, her fist pressed against her hip. “I’ll have to drown it in the creek.”

Your Snowy Owl, Jinx, sat outside the baby-blue curtained window, his big orange eyes peering at you innocently through the glass.

Piecing together the situation, you’d guessed Jinx had arrived suddenly during your grandmother’s baking and had startled her, causing her to spill much of the contents of her bowl.

Suppressing a smile at the mess, you walked over to the window and opened it. Jinx’s peppered wings stretched out briefly before you felt his talons brush against your collarbone, and he perched onto your shoulder.

“Sorry, Grandmother,” you mumbled, catching your cousin smirking at you. A blush of anger lit up your face, and you made to disappear back into your room before anything got ugly; you’d gone all Holiday without a vicious row, and you weren’t about to start one just before you walked out the door.

“When does that school of yours start again, anyway? Aren’t you normally gone by now? Blakely’s school has already started, he’s been working so hard,” she doted, smoothing his hair as he ate his cereal, milk dribbling from his lips and onto the table. “We could all use a little peace and quiet around here, frankly.” she sniffed.

Jinx gave an annoyed hoot and ruffled his feathers unpleasantly as your grandmother glared at him from across the room.

“Train leaves September 1st at 11am like it always does. I’ll be leaving within the hour,” you said, struggling to control your voice.

“Train? There are enough of you--you, people, for an entire train?” Blakely said, dropping his spoon in his bowl, splattering more milk onto the table, evidently thoroughly shocked.

“Yes, oddly enough, it seems I’m not the only freak in England,” you said, using the word he often threw at you.

“Maybe not the only one, but definitely the biggest,” he said quietly, glaring up at you from his cereal. Grandmother, however, pretended as though she didn’t hear, merely clanged dishes loudly together as she turned back towards the sink.

“One day, I’ll hex you so terribly you’ll be lucky if someone calls you something so kind as freak,” you pushed the thought into his head and promptly stormed out of the kitchen, though savoring the terrified shock on his face.

“She-she did it again!” Blakely called, color draining his face. But you were already halfway up the staircase with Jinx balancing on your shoulder before her angry screech reached you.

You’d almost always been an utter freak in their eyes, and it all started when you were only a baby.

Your mother died while giving birth to you, and your father was never in the picture, so there was no one but your Grandmother to take you in; no one but you to blame for it all. You were, after all, the product of your mother’s insolence--having fallen pregnant at 15 by a man whom she’d never spoken of. And further, you were the reason she’d died; she wouldn’t have bled out if you hadn’t been conceived. To your Grandmother, it was as if you were the cause of every problem she had in life, a walking reminder of where it all went wrong--and she made sure you knew it.

Terrible as things already were, nothing was to be helped by the events that were to unfold. As the story had been told to you, you were a little over a year old, crying incessantly in your crib. You’d evidently been exceptionally whiny that day, crying non-stop, refusing to be consoled, and just when she’d for the first time seriously considered doing you in, you stopped. Relieved yet confused, your grandmother had come in to check on you.

“I’m hungry.”

She had heard the words clear as day, in a voice she didn’t recognize, but the words sounded funny. The voice almost echoed, somehow managing to sound crystal clear but miles away at the same time. Sure she was simply going mad from a lack of sleep, she stood rooted to her spot in shock.

“Did you hear me, Grandmother? I said I’m hungry.”

Seeing your bright Y/E/C eyes boring up into hers, she let out an ear-splitting scream when you grinned as recognition dawned on her face.

Obviously, no Muggle doctor could give any sort of explanation or help. At most, they’d give one of the two of you some kind of a crazy pill and a suggestion of seeing a family counselor.

Soon after, tragedy struck your grandmother’s side once more, and you were landed with a cousin, Blakely. Blakely, however, seemed to adopt a mindset closer to your grandmother’s about it all and would no sooner take a shine to you than get friendly with the rabies-infected alley cat.

But as the years went on, things began to get even stranger.

At the age of 3, your wailing cries caused all the lightbulbs around you to pop inexplicably (costing your grandmother a fortune, as she so loved to remind you).

At 5, you’d managed to levitate a ball Blakely was taunting you with out of his hands and into yours.

However, at age 9 is when it became harder to keep a secret; at age 9 is when your grandmother began truly resenting you.

Being a self-ascribed ‘freak,’ bullying was something you were no stranger to. A comment here, a hair tug there. However, this had been a particularly extreme case. Kylie Kippely and her best friends had backed you into a corner, each shooting off snarky comments at your scared state, and when that wasn’t enough, they began throwing things--anything they could get their hands on--cans, papers, pencils, erasers. All the while yelling how everyone would be much better off without such a freak in their midst, about how all their parents were scared to even send them to school anymore after your last incident.

Then, they began running out of rubbish and started picking up rocks instead. Before a single rock could leave their hands, however, the mulch around you began to shake, then chips slowly started rising into the air behind them. As your face went from scared to full of awe, they turned around to see what you were looking at and simultaneously dropped everything in their hands. The mulch then began pelting at all of them, causing everyone around you to scream and disperse, all batting away the pieces of mulch pelting at their running backsides.

Grandmother had pulled you out of the school before you could receive any other punishment, and from that moment on, you’d been stuck in the house with her.

With no outlet, with nothing but growing rage and resentment inside of you, things began to spiral even worse.

Just when Grandmother began researching distant reform schools, however, you received your Hogwarts letter, and everything made sense.

All the strange things you could do, all the bizarre things you made happen, had an explanation. Sure the explanation was that you were, in fact, a freak--but you weren’t the only freak. There was a whole school’s worth of freaks just like you--well, almost just like you.

Though paper cranes soared around you and magic burst from the tip of hundreds of wands, through your time at Hogwarts, you found you did have one unique gift: it was evidently called Telepathic Impression, a branch of complex magic known as Legillimens--no one else could push thoughts into other people’s heads like you could, not naturally anyway. Nobody could ask a question silently and have the Professor answer for all to hear. After you’d interjected into McGonagall’s head during your first Transfiguration class, she’d had you go straight off to Dumbledore’s office. After a brief discussion, it was found you possessed natural Legilimency skills--something that had only been seen once before. He’d been absolutely transfixed when you told him the first instance had been at the ripe age of 1, in fluent advanced English no less.

You smiled fondly at the memory of his laugh of delight as you’d repeated, ‘Did you hear me, Grandmother? I said I’m hungry.'

Never before had you told that story in any sort of positive light, never got a positive reaction either. Dumbledore had been absolutely enthralled with you from then on.

He had carefully explained the practice of Legilimency, how the mind was a layered thing and could not be ‘read’ simply, like a book. He’d explained how everyone learned it to some advantage of theirs, how no two Legilimens were the same.

After several years of private lessons, it seemed all you’d ever be able to do with your gift was push thoughts, images, and sounds of your own into other’s minds--but this was an incredible feat in itself, a private gift of yours. However, just the year before, it was found that with effort, you could twist the thought to become persuasive, convince the person the thought was their own, and to complete the idea you’d given them. During the first lesson which you found you could do so, you’d been practicing with Dumbledore. Though he was giving no effort at all to resist, you’d silently suggested his tea was abysmal and that he knock it off his desk in disgust. With a twitch of his wrist, the cup shattered onto the floor, shocking you both into silence. It was after this Dumbledore had insisted you promise to never use it for evil, never ever use it with ill intentions--for as a Legilimens himself, he would know. You quickly agreed, of course; you’d never once had the thought to use it with ill motives--aside from maybe having Blakely go for a nice long dip in the creek in the dead of January, but that was a fantasy you kept for yourself to get you through Holidays like these.

Shaking your head of past childhood memories, you turned to your trunk to make sure you did indeed have everything all packed up and ready. You didn’t want to stay a second longer than necessary.

Spotting your cloaks pushed into the depths of your closet, you plucked them from the dark and folded them into your trunk. It wasn’t a moment too soon either, because right as you closed the lid, you heard the boisterous arrival of your best friends as they pulled in the winding driveway driving the enchanted car James’ parents had lent him. You heard an enthusiastic barking whoop and smiled as Sirius’ bright eyes and smile filled your mind.

Your stomach bubbling with excitement, you hastily put Jinx in his cage as he looked around in interest. Picking up his cage, you bounded down the stairs to meet them.

[hollowknightxreader]

Uhh heya!! I just found your blog thanks to a friend of mine and uhh sorta fell in love with it XD You're doin a really awesome thing! Could i possibly request general romantic relationship headcannons with Grimm? And a female reader? Post or pre infection idk dkjfdshusfhsjdfhs whatever you think would work-

A/N: Awwww, hey, that’s really nice, glad to hear you like it :) (Seriously, this made my day, you’ve all been so nice and supportive, it’s amazing)

Relationship Headcanons With Grimm:

First off;

Grimm is the absolute king of ✨dramatic flair✨

No joke, we’ve all seen how this bug makes an entrance, it’s no wonder he would be equally as expressive when it comes to his lover.

If not even more.

(Also c’mon, he’s got major theatre kid vibes)

So, oh, is he a hopeless romantic.

You cannot convince me that this man wouldn’t go to all sorts of heights to serenade his s/o in affection.

From conducting extravagant private showings for his s/o to collecting the most valuable trinkets and bobbles he can get his claws on, once he figures out what his s/o likes, he will be determined to bring you the best of the best.

In fact, it can be overwhelming at times.

By no means would it be on purpose.

Grimm just needs to amp it back from time to time.

But, boy howdy, if you start being the one that’s giving gaudy gifts and planning dates

This man will love you

Seriously

He adores being on the receiving end just as much as he does to be on the giving.

Wrapping that up

I imagine that, as master of an entire troupe, Grimm is quite busy, and as such, has little offtime to relax.

This can be hard in the case of spending quality time with him.

It certainly wouldn’t ease up as the ritual draws closer, either

The closer he gets to his inevitable death, to have his flames eaten by the next troupe master, the more time away from his s/o he has to spend

In the end, a relationship with Grimm would only end in loss.

This very reason makes him hesitant to get attached. 

:(

So he cherishes the time he spends with you!

Right up until the very end!

it’s bittersweet 

Moving away from angst!

He enjoys when his s/o manages to sneak into his office during work, as distracting as it can be, he appreciates their company.

Just don’t do it too often, he’s still got a job to do!

Also shh, he loves it when you sit in his lap while he’s doing paperwork

Even more so if you fall asleep.

Bonus!

While Grimm cannot be away from the troupe’s tent for too long

He thoroughly takes pleasure in sightseeing new places with you once the troupe settles down somewhere

If he weren’t tethered to the nightmare heart, his dream would be to travel the world with you.

[psychotropicplague]

What’s in my Pfizer?

Dear Antivaxers,

Bare with me as I explain what is in the current Pfizer vaccine that is combatting the Coronavirus endemic, perhaps this could sway you..

I insist you get your children vaccinated, even for the viruses and infectious-diseases that no longer are completely omnipresent within our lifetime and please teach them to clean-up, wash their hands vigorously and thoroughly, and you will see a vast decrease in cases, a drop in fatality-rates...

I implore you to really take chemical-engineering seriously before you can tell me that it’s just a weakened form of a virus you get injected with or the most irrational yet ridiculous excuse is that it causes Autism..

Because it’s not and no it doesn’t.

Now onto our vaccine ingredients..

For one, Sodium-Chloride is heavily ground salt, Phosphate-Dihydrate is a substitute of Calcium but mostly an additive it helps bone marrow, tooth enamel, and when full of its Hydroxide properties it can be used in fertilizer, mRNA-lipids are what make up some DNA that transfer to your ribosomes (a fancy abbreviation for Ribosome Nucleic Acids) that do in fact also store within your lipids, Hydroxybutyl usually is carcinogenic in lab rats as it’s really just 4 nitrosamines (a fancy word for “bad” compounded molecules) ..isolated as it should, that would be the virus portion of the entire thing, Azandediyl helps with methylation of proteins in other words it’s just a mixture of the aforementioned, Hexane is just a Hydrocarbon, (keep in mind we all leave Carbon-footprints) As with most Hydrogen and Carbon compounds, Hexyldecanoate is made-up of 16-parts Carbon, 3-parts Hydrogen, and 10-parts Carbon Monoxide which we inhale daily from trees, so it’s basically a filler, Polyethylene Glycol is a resin or a result of two or more solvents solidifying, while it can be used in forming waxes when it binds with a white blood cell it feeds its mitochondria, the “powerhouse” the brain of the cell itself. Ditetradecylacetamide is a whopping 30-parts Carbon, 61-parts Hydrogen and Nitric Oxide which shouldn’t be confused with the lethal Nitrous Oxide or Nitrogen Dioxide, Nitric Oxide is basically another filler rudimentary molecule as it can’t bind to anything without Hydrogen or Carbon attached to it, so again, more mitochondria “food”, Distearoyl-Glycero Phosphocholine is an enzyme that can be catalyzed or “initiated” accelerating your immune-system response as a result this is usually first what breaks down and divides white-blood and T-cells into smaller and more widespread cells, Cholesterol and it’s derivatives are a very key part in your tissue make-up, basically the precursor to what steroids really are, they are not to be confused with anabolic-steroids that some athletes have abused, steroids being 3 six-part and 1,5-part Carbon molecules.

Still with me? Okay!

So as these Steroids are induced into our body, they come in the form of just large clusters of cells and membranes, maybe even a smidge of nuclei which is the initial cluster that eventually break down into smaller and more efficient ones, it’s the antibodies essentially, Monobasic Potassium is a common food additive that helps weaker amino-acids mesh with your Ph (the level of Alkaline in your body at any given time upon consumption) and while it is used in some fertilizer it’s surprisingly more used widely as the food additive that we see in Gatorade and Powerade that gives it the unique taste and thirst-quenching properties, Dibasic Sodium Phosphate Dihydrate is another form of salt but helps condensed milk retain its consistency and viscosity, essentially another binding agent and last but not least.. Sucrose: Simply put, cane-sugar because they probably tried it with Glucose and while equally as important, the reality is the microbiology, chemistry and chemical-engineering that went into the very first batch of vaccines may have had disastrous-results that could’ve contributed to the different strands of COV-2, SARS, Coronavirus and COVID-19 running amuck.

..Still don’t want it?

So you’re probably wondering: Is any of this hard-to-pronounce stuff healthy?

..What I do know after being taught chemistry both basic high-school level, college-level and learning plus observing full-on chemical-engineering that my uncle to this very day is employed in Mexico’s pandemic response, is that every vaccine has it’s good and bad effects, it’s never one over the other nor could it ever be, the physiological effects rely heavily on your white blood cell count, your T-Cell count, it depends on how well you fight off infections bacterial/fungal and congenital, it certainly helps eating healthy, keeping away from anything carcinogenic and noxious, having a well balanced diet of important vital nutrients and not additives or preservatives (aka fast food or junk food) ..at appropriate times in healthy portions, it helps getting exercise, getting sound sleep, avoiding dark sodas or soda completely, being mentally sound and most of all taking into consideration that yes, while these are technically speaking additives, compounds, or fillers they are known within the chemical-engineering field as simply being cell food, fuel for your body’s circadian rhythm or maybe keeping your equilibrium intact, but most of all can strengthen your immunity and vitality, to put it lightly, these very blood cell-assistances in our shared existence has proven effective, Polio, Rubella, Mumps, Measles, Chicken-Pox, Smallpox, hell even Influenza which has killed more people had sizable success with vaccines will lead me to the conclusion that yes your body can and eventually could produce these very unique yet intricate microbiological organisms (antibodies) and develop similar chemistries on its own autonomy within the realm of possibilities but the catch being you’d need a vaccine itself inducing these potentially positive-effects being that there are no placebo trials anymore.

Gracias para todo que me enseñaste Tío.

[fallen-in-dreams]

More Than A Fairytale

Also on AO3. Pairing: Itachi/Sakura. Summary: The first boy that was ever nice to her was the last boy she’d be interested in. And it just so happened to be *him*. He was her soulmate. She was sure of it. ItaSaku. Non-Mass. Prompt: Soulmates. Rated: T. Words: 4,245. Status: Complete. Author note: This is non-mass but with the nine-tails attack, though I won't be touching on it. At all. It turned out so fluffy and tooth aching and was a b*tch to write but it's here. Albeit late, though not too late. *hopefully* Enjoy. ^_^

Warnings/tags: Just for fluff, pining, light angst, etc.   

This is a LATE (but still before the cut off time) submission for itasakuweek2021​. Sorry for the delay @fm-white​​. Hope you’re doing well. Thanks for hosting this event. :)

  “For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul.” – Judy Garland

  Sakura wanted to scream and throw things. This was the last time she was ever going to be nice to boys! Ugh! How her mother thought any boy was good enough for her, she didn’t understand. They were rude and mean and all the other gross things that Ino giggled about when they were in the back of the classroom. She joined the Academy to get closer to a boy and boy did she regret it. She thought she’d found the one. He was just as cute as her book said he’d be. And just as interesting. Her mother had given her The Book when she started showing interest in boys and it became her go-to for fairy tales.

Magic and romance were so pretty and gave her tingly feelings.

But Sasuke-kun was definitely not her soulmate. Someone who was meant for her was supposed to be nice to her. They were supposed to be helpful and interested in the things she had to say, not brush her off and call her annoying. According to The Book he wasn’t it. And she didn’t care that he was the cutest boy in her class. Sasuke-kun was mean!

“Aargh!”

Stomping out of the classroom, with her bag on her back and her book hugged to her chest, Sakura ignored Iruka-sensei when he called out to her. She just didn’t want to be in the same building as Sasuke-kun anymore! No. Wait. Drop the kun. She growled, elbowing her way past other students. He didn’t deserve that honorific anymore. She deserved better than him. Her soulmate wasn’t going to get her angry enough to want to throttle him.

Sasuke was too skilled with kunai and taijustu so she couldn’t beat him up. But one day, she was going to give him a punch that could break mountains! And then he might feel half as bad as he made her feel today. Sakura continued to fume as she left the Academy building and headed out to the training area before realising Iruka had sent an older student to check for her. She quickly redirected and left the academy grounds completely.

Sakura was a dedicated student who never left the grounds during school hours. She felt both scared and excited at the same time. Sasuke was the reason she’d gone there in the first place. But now she felt like it was just a lie. Her parents never pushed her to become a kunoichi. She just agreed to it.

What now?

Sakura sighed. She had no idea. But at least she still had her book. With nice pictures and big bold kanji. It said her soulmate would be nice to her, helpful, and always put her first. Someone out there was going to be nice to her, she still believed it. She just had to wait for them to notice her. None of the boys in the Academy cared about her and while she enjoyed the theory and found it easy, the workload in the training ground didn’t excite her. Being a ninja sounded scary. Thinking about Sasuke and how cool he was would get her head back in the game, but that was before.

She wandered aimlessly, unconsciously taking a long way back home. And she was reading The Book and not looking where she was going when Sakura banged into someone taller than her. They were like a brick wall, and adult sized. She hit him so hard that there was no way to steady herself. Sakura fell back against another person and then forward again as the crowd jostled her.

“Aah!”

Sakura tripped, throwing her arms forward to brace her fall and dropping her book in the process. She cried out again at the shock and pain when her hands hit the ground, then tumbled to land on her side.

“Damn kid.”

The shadow of the person who’d accidentally knocked her down moved away and was replaced by another, shorter than the last one but taller than her. His hand was soft too; he offered it to her, and she grasped it as tightly as she could with hers. He pulled her up and she cried out. Something was bruised. He wrapped an arm around her back like he was preparing to help her along when she tried to pull away.

“My book!” she gasped, looking around for it.

The boy turned them so she could spot it. Faster than she could move, he stepped forward and bent to pick it up for her. She dusted it off and raised her face to his as he hooked his arm around her again. Sakura blinked heavily, surprised by what greeted her. He was wearing a uniform. She gasped, recognising the gear. Sakura knew about Anbu. She’d read all about them. They were the best of the best and nobody could ever beat them. Except for the Hokage. A boy maybe five years old than her was wearing a mask and Anbu gear. An Anbu had helped her!

“Let’s get you somewhere I can check your wounds.”

He didn’t offer to take her to the hospital. But Sakura didn’t mind. Maybe it was out of his way. The Anbu boy lifted her off the ground and gently moved them to a bench the next building over, away from the crowd and people she might slam into again. Her head was spinning from the sudden movement, but she clutched her book tightly and didn’t complain. Anbu-san lowered her onto the bench and knelt down in front of her, inspecting the scrapes on her hands and knees.

“These don’t look too bad,” he said. “I have some salve on hand which should keep an infection at bay. But you’ll have to wash it thoroughly at home, okay?”

She nodded. “Thank-you, Anbu-san.”

She winced as he applied the salve but kept the smile on her face as best as she could.

“Call me Itachi,” he said.

“Really?” She looked up him as he cocked his head to the side. His mask reminded her of a weasel. “Is that your super-secret code name?”

He chuckled. “No.

“You need one.”

“Not for you,” he said, and she frowned. “Just call me Itachi.”

“You can call me Sakura.”

“A cute name,” he said, and she blushed. “Are you okay now?”

She nodded, lowering her eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m silly. This wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t run away.”

He tilted his head at her but didn’t ask. Sakura sighed. She had wanted to be a ninja because of Sasuke but here she was, hopeless and getting fixed up like she was useless. “I wanna be strong. Like you, Itachi.”

He sat down next to her, and it didn’t occur to her childish mind to wonder why an Anbu was wasting time with her, a silly little girl. She didn’t see the small, sad smile behind his mask as she reminded him of his younger brother. Nor the way he pressed his lips together in frustration at how sad she looked.

“If you want to be strong,” he said. “Then be strong.” He glanced at her backpack and the Academy sticker she’d stuck to the side of it, thinking perhaps she’d done so proudly.

“You think so, Itachi-san?” She wiped at her eyes as tears threatened to fall. “You don’t think I’m too weak?”

“Everyone starts out weak,” he said. “But if you work hard enough and never give up, then yes, I think you can be very strong.”

Forgetting her earlier angst, Sakura puffed up her chest proudly. “I’m going to be a kunoichi!”

“With that attitude, no doubt.” He sounded amused.

She grinned up at him.

“How old are you, eight?”

“Seven,” she said excitedly.

“I have a brother your age. He’s in the Academy.”

Remembering why she’d run out of school, Sakura groaned. “I hate the boys my age.”

He chuckled. “They can be very annoying.”

She giggled. “Definitely.”

Sakura hugged her book to her chest. She thought of the fairy tale stories and how the book said her soulmate would make her feel better every time she was sad. “Itachi-san, do you know what a soulmate is?”

“Soulmate?”

The girl nodded her head enthusiastically. “I read all about them.” She placed the book on her lap. “Somewhere, everyone has another soul. Someone who completes them and is perfect for them.” She peered at him. “But I don’t know if you’re cute enough.”

She giggled again and he looked around for a moment before turning back to her then lifting his mask for a moment. She gaped but he just pressed a finger to his lips. Itachi was very cute. She blushed and fiddled with her book nervously as he gave her a soft smile. She liked the way it made his eyes crinkle as they closed. He replaced the porcelain mask.

“Don’t tell my captain I did that, okay?”

Sakura nodded seriously. “Promise.”

He stood and stretched for a moment. “I have to go now. Make sure to wash your wounds and see a medic.”

Sakura felt her heart drop. “Uh, Itachi-kun?”

He looked down at her, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. So, to speak.

“Can… can we be soulmates?”

He didn’t respond at first and Sakura felt rejected. Did he hate her all of a sudden?

“Ask me again after you become a kunoichi,” he said.

“Oh, I will!” Sakura beamed at him as he bowed slightly.

“Goodbye, Sakura.”

She watched him as he took a few steps, waved back at her, and then took flight. Her mouth dropped open as he landed on the nearby roof and then disappeared.

He has to be my soulmate.

  .:.

  Sakura did not meet her soulmate again until years later. She didn’t even know anything about him other than his given name and the fact that he wasn’t a medic Anbu. It wasn’t until she met Kakashi-sensei and mentioned the incident off-hand that she discovered more about him. His Anbu mask had been distinctive enough (a weasel, which was ironic given this name), so she hadn’t explained that she’d seen his face. Which was a good thing, since it turned out Kakashi had been his Captain at the time. She kept her promise.

Itachi Uchiha.

Sasuke’s big brother.

Were the fates laughing at her or was it just fate? Sakura still believed that there was a soulmate out there for her, but she no longer held to the childish infatuation for it the way she once did. Plenty of shinobi had been nice and helpful toward her since that day. Just none that she’d been romantically interested in. She could still remember how kind and gentle Itachi had been and what was once childish infatuation had now blossomed into a long-standing crush. Even if nothing came of it, she would always look back on it fondly.

But Sakura never approached Itachi in the intervening years. Somehow, she’d painted this picture-perfect memory of that day and didn’t want it to be ruined by meeting the man in question in the flesh. Again. If he pissed her off, as was so easy to do she could admit, it would taint that day. It was like a fairy tale, her recollection of their meeting, and she wanted to preserve it.

Her avoidance of Itachi was made harder when Sasuke began (albeit grudgingly) inviting the team back to the Uchiha compound. Sakura always had somewhere else to be. She knew Kakashi was still friends with the man, and Naruto was raving about how “cool” he was after their first visit. But Sakura chickened out each time. She felt anxious every time their team finished a mission or sparring match and planned to head to the Uchiha home. The copy ninja was intelligent though, and sometimes she saw his knowing look in her peripherals. He wasn’t fooling her though.

He didn’t go either.

When Sakura approached Lady Tsunade about becoming her student it was six months before the Sandaime retired and the busty blonde was named his successor, much to her chagrin. She tried to get out of it but during a training healing session with Sakura, the pinkette mentioned how she was determined to surpass her teammates. A heart to heart about the struggles of the village and how the Uchiha were treated (brought on by Sakura’s still-a-secret-crush-on-Itachi) and a few days later, Tsunade had changed her mind.

So, it was at her inauguration after party (the first one in history since it was a stipulation of Tsunade’s acceptance) that she finally saw him again.

She wished she was old enough to get drunk. Legally.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

He’d grown. Sakura did not need a moment to recognise that face again. He was still taller than her. Still so good looking. Years of repressed emotions caught up to her and she inhaled deeply, trying to keep them and her reactions under control. The boy she’d chosen as her soulmate had grown into a handsome young man. Meanwhile, she was still an awkward teenager.

“Itachi…”

“It’s been a long time,” he said, obviously recognising her right away too.

She still had faded marks on her knees where she’d fallen over that day. Sakura hadn’t gone to a medic like he’d suggested. She’d just happily skipped home and told her parents all about it. Getting rid of the marks would have made it like it had never happened.

Her young mind had been so silly.

But looking at Itachi now, a full head taller than her, toned and dressed to the nines… she couldn’t help but feel as enamoured as her child version had been.

“I’m surprised you remember someone so insignificant.”

The corner of his mouth twitched when she started shuffling her feet. Fifteen-year-old Sakura was adorable.

“On the contrary,” he said. “That was a very significant day for me.”

She blushed, lowering her head.

“It’s not every day someone asks me to be their soulmate.”

Sakura looked up at him and returned his smile. She felt her face heat up even further. She couldn’t get over how attractive he was. Years of picturing him didn’t do him any justice.

And now I’m acting like an idiot in front of him.

Sakura cleared her throat. “I was so pushy, Itachi-san. I’m surprised you were so nice to me.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, embarrassed. “I was a brat.”

“And now look at you. The Gondaime’s apprentice. Everyone has nothing but great things to say about you.”

“Have you been asking around about me?” She asked in jest.

“Yes.”

Her jaw dropped at his candour. She quickly shut her mouth. “Uh... that’s, um.”

“A little too forward. My apologies. I was simply interested in the incredible young woman you’ve become.” He leaned toward her, whispering in her ear, “I hope I haven’t offended you.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s fine.”

Boys didn’t normally spare her much time and she’d been training so much over the last few years that Sakura hadn’t even thought of rectifying that. Her crush on Itachi was so fierce that no-one else had remotely drawn her attention. Itachi cocked his head to the side and Sakura realised (in her fluster) that he had an earpiece on.

Is he on duty? Then where’s his mask?

Itachi listened for a moment before tapping the earpiece twice and turned back to Sakura. “You should come around next time Sasuke invites you,” he said, waving to her before disappearing into the crowd.

Damn.

She had no excuse now.

  .:.

  “Sakura!”

Sakura winced at the shrieking tones of her mother. She was procrastinating because her parents and Ino had planned a party for her eighteenth birthday, and the guest list included a certain Uchiha she’d been crushing on. She hadn’t been avoiding him for the past three years. Really. Just making sure she was never alone with him. She didn’t want to embarrass herself with this ridiculous crush. Because Itachi clearly saw her as just a friend, and because Sakura had made the mistake of letting Ino organise this whole thing, he’d been invited. Ino also knew Sakura had a thing for him and was determined to have him there when she “came of age” the hopeful romantic that Ino was. She sighed deeply as her mother called out again.

“Coming!”

Hold your horses.

She straightened herself, taking one last look at the mirror and the pink haired girl in the dark blue cocktail dress before leaving her bedroom. She’d chosen the dress style in honour of her now legal drinking age. Technically, being a ninja, she could’ve started drinking when she became a chunin (or turned eighteen, if that had come first). But it would’ve been frowned upon and seen as unprofessional. Her recently promoted jounin self was a new woman. She could do whatever she wanted.

Ino had insisted on holding the party at the Yamanaka Estate so that more people could be invited. She was intent on doing this with the entirety of the Konoha Twelve.

Sakura walked there with her parents in tow since they didn’t travel like ninja anymore, but she didn’t mind. It gave her time to prepare herself for the onslaught. She was surprised and disappointed when she didn’t see Itachi there. Her friends and comrades came up to her, hugging and wishing her a happy birthday. Naruto had set aside all the presents and Ino was in charge of the music. While Hinata had chosen the food – Chouji was still hurt by that, but Ino’s excuse was that Hinata’s palette was more refined. And the girl would cater to everyone. He grudgingly agreed he would have just brought barbeque flavoured everything.

Sakura laughed along with him when he admitted it and accepted his one-arm hug before he left to attack the buffet table. She found a corner of the hall to sit alone, now morose. She’d gotten dressed up and, even though the idea of running into Itachi scared her, had hoped he’d be here. It was a full hour before she felt the familiar chakra as he seemed to appear out of nowhere.

Sakura took in his appearance: a suit, nicely pressed, his hair back, his dark eyes intense. She was standing and leaning against a wall. He looked like he’d been waiting for her.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Sakura blushed, clasping her hands together. “Itachi-san.”

She took note of how his eyes travelled over her body and stiffened.

What the...?

“I brought a present,” he said, “but Naruto-kun insisted on putting all the gifts in one room.”

She nodded, unsure of what to make of his perusal. Itachi had a drink in one hand, no ninja gear, no earpiece. He seemed at ease. Now, she’d seen him out of uniform before, at Sasuke’s house, but he’d usually just been asleep after a long mission and was still tired. He was never chatty or had a pink tinge on his cheeks from some alcoholic beverage, like he did now. He seemed out of character. But not. If that made sense.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” she heard herself say.

“How does it feel to be considered an adult?” He asked, leaning into to whisper in her ear.

She shivered at the close proximity to him. His breath fanned against her face and his scent was overwhelming. It was… masculine. She had no other word to describe it. He had no cologne or other smell on him. She’d heard that Anbu he could cover their scents, making it impossible for enemies to detect them. But she’d also never seen Kakashi do it.

That was definitely some cherry flavoured mixed drink on his breath.

Was he flirting with her? She hoped so. It wasn’t every day that Itachi Uchiha gave anyone attention, let alone some random girl. Even one who knew his brother. Sakura had only gone to the Uchiha compound a few times after Tsunade’s inauguration. Sasuke’s father had since pulled him out of Team Seven to prepare for Anbu – some time-honoured tradition among their family, apparently. His replacement was a former Anbu, ironically, named Sai, whom Ino had recently been fawning over. So now Sakura had more of an excuse not to go to Sasuke’s home, where watching Itachi treat her like a little sister was too painful. The past three years, Sakura had continued to nurse her crush, learning everything she could about him. It helped that Kakashi-sensei had been his captain once. She gave up on being embarrassed asking him about Itachi.

They continued to talk. Sakura felt like something in the air had shifted. He was being more talkative, friendlier, and standing closer to her. It was almost like he’d come out of his shell. It was both terrifying and electrifying. She quite liked it. But…

“Itachi-san?”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Are you drunk?”

Itachi chuckled. “Just enough.”

“For what?”

“Do you want to dance?”

Sakura gaped at him. A little voice in the back of her head told her to punch him to see if he was someone else in disguise. But if this was indeed Itachi, she’d never live it down. She decided to accept and ask him things that only they both would know. At least for the sake of her sanity. So, she nodded her head, and he threw back the last of his drink before guiding her onto the floor. Sakura watched with fascination and shivered as he slipped his hands onto her body. He must’ve had professional training because they were the only ones doing some version of a waltz while the rest of the guests were dancing either in tune to the rapid beat or to their own.

“Do you remember when we first met?” He asked, interrupting her plan to test him on it. She nodded. “You were so sad and cute.” Sakura flushed, gripping his arms tightly. He continued, now whispering in her ear. “I was patrolling for… uh, reasons I can’t tell you. Anbu, you know.” She nodded again. “My team were out of sight, my captain following the target. Hm.”

He hummed lightly, now stroking her hair. Sakura looked around to see if anyone had noticed.

Kakashi looks interested.

She felt herself flush again, so she turned away from him and focused on the mildly inebriated man holding tightly to her.

“I remember,” she said. “What was it you said to me? About being a kunoichi.”

Please be Itachi.

He pulled back and looked at her, a little confused. She felt her heart plummet in the few seconds it took him to remember and then her breathing deepened at the intense look on his face.

“If you want to be strong, then be strong. Everyone starts out weak. But if you work hard enough and never give up, you won’t be weak.” He looked so cute, trying to remember it word for word.

She let out an uncontrollable snort. “You’re drunk.”

“Not really. Just buzzed.”

“You don’t normally speak so readily with me.”

He sighed, leaning in to whisper in her ear again. “You asked me to be your soulmate, remember?”

She nodded, realising suddenly that he was confessing something.

“I didn’t think much of it for a long time. You were just some cute little kid that I helped out when she got hurt. That’s all.” He sighed again. “But we met again at Lady Tsunade’s inauguration, and you were all grown up. Almost. Sasuke called you annoying.” He held her tighter when she stiffened at that. “But you aren’t. Naruto-kun raved about you when he visited. A little crush that soon went nowhere. And Kakashi-senpai… he was cautious. I think he knew.”

“Knew what?”

Itachi pulled away and cradled her face in his hands. “Ask me again.” And her confused look he added, “to be your soulmate.”

“Ask me again after you become a kunoichi.”

Sakura licked her lips. “Will… will you be my soulmate?”

She felt like she was asking him to be her valentine. But forever.

He stared into her eyes. The rest of the guests fell away, and it was just the two of them as he appraised her. “Yes,” he said. “If you’ll still have me.”

When had Itachi Uchiha fallen in love with her?

The next thing she knew, he was pressing his lips to hers and Sakura was losing herself in the feel of him. He tasted of cherry, which was funny because that was a flavour not usually attributed to him. They continued to hold each other, just gently entwined and kissing softly. Everything was falling into place, and she could barely keep up.

Eventually, Itachi pulled away, smiling softly down at her.

“You read a book on soulmates. You heard all kinds of rumours of what Team Ro gets up to. Wait—” he said when she tried to interrupt. “You heard tales of Anbu and made stories in your head from what little Kakashi-senpai told you. But,” he leaned in closer, their lips almost touching, “I thought maybe you’d like to believe in something more than a fairy tale, for once.”

Sakura nodded and initiated the next kiss, adding more pressure to it this time. “I’d love to.”

They didn’t need some cosmic or magical sign to know they were meant to be.

[dreamsmp-au-ideas]

Teddy Bear Anon has purposed yet another interesting addition to the Immune AU which gives me plot ideas! In particular, a scene that would really help give past Dream a strong push into his character arc. 

I like to image that immune!Dream’s character arc starts with the death of immune!Puffy. Sure, maybe he’s not sad yet, but he feels something for the woman who declared herself his pseudo mother. It’s what helps to crack the shell enough for the rest of the immune gang to start weedling their way into his heart. Immune!Dream after spending enough time watching the group he, starts to realize that yeah, connections to other people isn’t a weakness. It really is a strength. It’s something that takes time for him to come to terms with because Techno seems like a testament to the fact connections are a weakness. He was unbeatable until his horse got kidnapped. His only connection, his only weakness. But then there’s Tommy who seems to represent the complete opposite. 

Where Dream represents strength from caring too little, Tommy represents strength from caring far too much. Now I’m a sucker for bamf Tommy, and I like to personally imagine that maybe the Immunes hold out for a year or two before they cave and try to make the portal. So Tommy has what really boils down to a two year training arc on top of already being a child veteran (I like to canonize SMP Earth as well because personal preference and it gives me even more room to make Tommy suffer. SMP Earth being canon? God, so much fucking trauma considering how the others treated him, a 15 year old child, like an adult.) Anyway Dream slowly realizes connections with one another are what kept the remaining Immunes alive, and he tries to force his younger self to understand that. Tries, but doesn’t really get far. Up until what everyone else calls The Fight.

Tommy’s always just kind of screwed around in fights as long as there’s only a threat to him. We know he has a tendency to throw if MCC is any indicator. But then they time travel and maybe they spend some time in the past trying to get the situation sorted and the past’s Dream maybe just kinda does something to Tubbo. Doesn’t even have to be big, it just needs to clock as a threat to Immune!Tommy who’s already lost his Tubbo and refuses to let his younger self go through that. So Tommy goes completely ape shit on the younger Dream. Sure, it’s only been two years for this Tommy. He’s probably, like, 18 or 19 at most. Still a child as far as a lot of people are concerned. He shouldn’t be stronger than Dream or Technoblade, and in the few cross group sparing sessions they’ve had he isn’t. He’s stronger than his younger self but no where near these two demi gods of combat. But then Dream suddenly registers as a threat to Tubbo in Immune!Tommy’s eyes and he makes the mistake of mocking Tommy while he’s at it. He knows that immune!Tommy lost his Tubbo and maybe the past Dream is lashing out slightly or trying to get some kind of foothold in Tommy’s psyche. He isn’t doing anything near what immune!Dream has done, but it’s enough to piss Tommy off. So immune!Tommy challenges Dream to a fight and Dream immediately realizes the mistake he’s made when Tommy starts to destroy him. 

Say even Techno’s there for some reason or another and he realizes what’s going down so he tries to calm Tommy down, joining the fight just as Dream is loosing it. The situation quickly turns into the first time Techno’s ever gotten his ass thoroughly kicked by Tommy, leaving everyone spectating baffled (Tommy’s younger self partly included). They’re certain this kid is going on some rampage and none of them can stop him but the moment Dream and Techno are both taken care of (wounded, not killed, the older Tommy is always careful about that. He even throws a splash healing on them with some indifferent kind of disgust that hides the fact he does still care to some extent even hurting as he is.) Tommy immediately just switches focus to outright doting on Tubbo, ignoring any muttered Clingyinnits in favor of ensuring Tubbo is fine. Tubbo is completely find and just as confused, but the point stands and neither Tommy ends up leaving Tubbo’s side for the rest of the day. The younger Tommy, after all, is the only one the older Tommy’s told the full story to regarding the future (even when he couldn’t trust his own family he was always able to trust himself with the secrets that mattered, so he prepares his younger self in case the worst comes to pass.)

The older Dream, immune!Dream, he doesn’t get involved. He sit on the side lines and just kinda laughs, the sound drowned out by Sapnap’s loud encouragements and Sam’s half hearted attempts to get Tommy to stop (he could have stopped Tommy immediately if he’d stepped in. Sam is after all the only person on earth Tommy listens to without hesitation, but Sam lets it happen and pretends he tried.) 

Immune!Dream just kinda smirks at his younger self later that night and mentions something about attachments really making you weak. After all, it’s not like the only time Tommy takes a battle seriously is when someone he cares about is in danger. It’s not like Tommy would turn the world into a seared ball for Tubbo, and Tubbo would do the same in return. It’s not like they’ve watched the people they care about temporarily rebuke the Crimson just to give the Immunes those precious extra seconds needed to survive in a fight. Attachments, they’re just a weakness.

The younger Dream doesn’t know how to respond to that. It’s the first time he thinks about his older self maybe being right.

Before I go I wanna leave you with two more ideas for the Immune AU

First up, Wilbur is eight years older than Tommy give or take. Wilbur had Fundy when he was around 16 and Tommy was around 8. Tommy was the best damn uncle he could be and for a while Tommy and Fundy were really stupidly close. They were both apart of the raised by Wilbur club and Wilbur was trying his damn best. Fundy aged/matured (physically and mentally) faster than a regular person for a while. They believed it was because he was a fox hybrid and Wilbur was ready to lose Fundy too soon. When Fundy was equivalent to 18 in human years though his aging process suddenly slowed to a crawl and his tail split into two, at which point the group realized he was actually a kitsune and it was just those first 8 years that passed by quickly (and Wilbur had a lot of questions for the now missing Sally who he’d thought was a salmon hybrid, genuinely, but became exceedingly less sure.) His family knows he’s a kitsune, but Fundy hid it from most of the rest of the server. A good thing considering later events. 

Fundy was part of the Immune group for a while and I like to imagine that he and Tommy had a falling out during the Pogtopia era but after the egg started to take over they started bonding again and acting like, well, family. Unfortunately when it came time for them to activate the portal, Fundy ended up getting separated from the group and getting caught. The eggpire didn’t actually know Fundy was fully immune or a kitsune so he just kinda pretended to get infected, using his illusions to make his fur look crimson. I personally like the idea that Fundy at some point managed to get back to the time machine and being a little code wizard manages to get the thing working and yeets himself in. He shows up a little late but after fixing his appearance manages to catch up with the rest of the group.

Fundy is underrated. Tommy being a good uncle is underrated. Sam would absolutely adopt the traumatized fox baby in Eret’s honor. What’s not to love?

The last concept I wanna bring up that I really like is hybrid Tommy. Tanuki would be good since it’s another reason for the Sam Nook bit. Maybe Sam specifically picked Sam Nook since Tom Nook was Tommy’s favorite character on the grounds he was the only representation Tommy had ever gotten and it made the kiddo happy. However, I also personally really like phoenix Tommy and it would make an interesting plot point. Tommy accidentally losing his third life at some point and realizing he’s an immortal creature of fire would have led to him taking a protector role for his new family. He can’t die, but he can burn anything around him, why not send him out to get supplies when the worst the eggpire could do would be capture him. Even then he just literally cannot hear the egg. Which could lead to both some interesting comedic moments and some really good angst if Sam agonizes over his desire to protect Tommy and let him be a child suddenly being at odds with the fact Tommy is literally the best person for the job so to speak. Not to mention Sapnap, who I headcanon as a Blaze hybrid, would be even more attached the moment he found a new fire proof friend to burn forests with him. Regardless of which hybrid type he is, I could see him hiding it from everyone except for Fundy when he was a child and only ever admitting it later to the other Immunes once they become a found family.

Personally I like the idea of Tommy being part tanuki hybrid and part phoenix hybrid, but is that too mary sue? Is it just a little bit too cheesy to have him be both? I will never not try to incorporate phoenix Tommy into my fics but also tanuki Tommy would be such a mood for this au.

Like image Tommy just builds a den that’s in reality a vault/panic room a la Techno and he hides it under Church Prime since that is The Safe Spot in Tommy’s mind.

~Snapdragon & Firefly

[buglife]

Bend and Not Break - Ch 1: A Mark

Anonymous said: Not sure if someone has requested this yet, but I’d love to see how the cast would react to an assassin coming after Ghost or Quirrel. I mean, there’s gotta be some bugs out there who don’t adore the new sovereigns right?

Anonymous said: If your still doing these (if not I’m really sorry and please just ignore me) may I request 17: “Ok, well… Fuck.” With Quirrel and Ghost being his knight in shining armour.

Read here on AO3 :3

Quirrel looked in the mirror, sighing to himself as he regarded his reflection. He was due to make a public appearance today along with Ghost, so he had to look the part of a King. He still didn’t feel much like a king, not really. He felt more like he did when he was helping his mother run the archives, which was a lot of running around and keeping people from losing their fingers to explosives. It wasn’t all about preventing disasters, it was also about fostering the love of learning and the curiosity that makes society better. So in a way...he felt the same now as he did then. There was more paperwork, of course, but he was happy. It helped that he had a spouse to share the load with.

He fiddled with the ring on his left hand, the pale ore gleaming in the light. It had been made from Ghost’s old nail, with them having a matching ring. They had long since outgrown the old nail, and most of it was used in making the pure nail he now carried. Still, it was something special that their rings were made with the metal that helped kill a god and started the rebirth of Hallownest. Smith and Sheo were absolutely delighted to work on them, and now the both of them had completely unique nails and rings that will probably last forever.

Today was going to be a rather emotional day for Ghost. He remembered them telling him snippets about the Soul Sanctum here and there. They could only mention what they were comfortable talking about, and it wasn’t much of it that qualified as such. Sometime during their journey to end the infection, they had entered the Soul Sanctum and put down the mad scientist within along with his equally mad followers. Grandeurs of immortality and power was enough to corrupt any bug, but from what he heard, the ones involved went far beyond corruption. It was evil. Pure evil. Ghost usually stopped talking at around that point, and Quirrel found himself cuddling them as they sought comfort to ease what they cannot forget.

The worst day perhaps, was when the Kingdom had established themselves enough to expand beyond bare necessities. As soon as the funds was available, Ghost had the Soul Sanctum completely stripped down to the bare walls and floors. They had gone that day to oversee it all and when they returned, they could barely hold themselves together. They spent the night crying, mourning the lives lost in the pursuit of power. They had given the dead within rest, but it still destroyed them on the inside to have to return to that place. Quirrel did his best to help, and many a sleepless night was spent together, attempting to heal deep wounds within.

They had recovered, in time. Stripping the place had done a lot to help them move on from the experience, and they had decided to turn it into something new. Something useful that would help bugs and not harm them. Something that promoted life, not take them away.

Its where they were going today, to officially open it up to the public. Quirrel would be there not only as a fellow ruler, but as support for Ghost. Despite it all, it was going to be hard for them.

Quirrel smoothed back his antenna and tied his silk kerchief around his head. It was a necessary habit he picked up while growing up with his mother. After burning his antenna one too many times due to splashes of acid or a chemical reaction gone wrong, he tended to pin them back. They got in the way sometimes, but once in a while he felt safe enough to let them out. The palace didn’t really have acid, or volatile chemicals, but old habits die hard.

He clipped on his cloak, letting the study fabric fall around his shoulders as he pinned it in place. It was a lovely blue, nearly iridescent, and clasped with a pale ore brooch that designated him as king. There was no way he could ever bring himself to wear something as tacky as a crown. Hell, Ghost wouldn’t even be able to fit one on their head. Instead, brooches seemed to fit a whole lot better.

Once he made sure his nail was strapped to his side, he deemed himself ready, and exited the room - only to nearly smack into his spouse, who was opening the door at the same time.

“Oof!” Running into Ghost wasn’t as fun as it was when they were little. Back then their shell was soft and kinda squishy like any other grub. But once stasis ended and they caught up on all their missed molts, their chitin had become tough and hard.

“Are you alright?” Ghost’s telepathy was soft and gently breezed by his mind. It’s just something gods could do, apparently. Their sire could, Quirrel knew that as a fact, but the fact they also ate a god boosted their ability to communicate without relying on sign language. They only ‘spoke’ like this to family and friends, a little too nervous to use it on the public. Quirrel hoped that would change with time.

He didn’t blame them, though. They were terrified of being considered scary. They were certainly imposing, but not as much as their sibling, Hollow. There were those that will always be scared of them, with them being a god and immensely powerful. But enough of their subjects loved them enough to not care. He just wished they could see it. Quirrel considered them handsome and cute, but then again, he was biased.

“I’m okay love, I was about to go and find you.” Quirrel smoothed down the front of his cloak and picked at Ghosts, adjusting it around a little. “It’s nearly time.”

Ghost was silent for a moment, and then leaned down to softly bonk their forehead against theirs. “I know.”

“You’ll be fine. That place doesn’t exist anymore.” He did his best to soothe any lingering nerves. Being around Ghost for so long as alerted him to their various tells. “It’s a better place now. Much better.”

They nodded slowly and let out a deep breath. “You are right. It is just hard to let go of what it was.”

“I understand, it will take a while, but you are doing great.” Quirrel took Ghost’s claws in his and gently squeezed. “Come along then, we don’t want to be late to the dedication.”

Ghost tilted their mask up in a smile, and then nodded. They bent down to steal a quick kiss, one that Quirrel returned, and together, they headed to the Stag Station.

----

The Capital was bustling, like always. It no longer was the City of Tears, not with the new revitalization of Hallownest. The rain had been stopped, redirected with new plant life growing on the ceiling. Lurien himself helped renew the spells that kept the water from outright pouring out of the lake above. Without being constantly rained on, more bugs were out and about. Today however, they were gathering in front of what used to be the Soul Sanctum, waiting around a platform where their rulers would be giving a speech. Most bugs were eager to enter the newly renovated building, because it was for them, and them alone.

The Soul Sanctum, which had brought so much death and misery to so many lives, had been converted into a multi-level communal greenhouse. There, farmer bugs would grow a verity of food, which is then free to be picked and used by the public. Taxes from the upper members of society will be used to keep the place running. That way, no bug would have to go hungry. The intimidating and Gothic architecture of the building had been transformed into a pillar of glass and green. It was now friendly, the oppressive air from before banished into a place of shelter. Not only could you go there to eat, but you can go there to rest among some of the floors dedicated to flowers. It was a gift, from the rulers of New Hallownest to the people, and the people were waiting to be allowed in to enjoy it.

The five new knights of Hallownest stood in various places around the crowd. So far, they didn’t need to do much but remind some citizens to calm down and not crowd each other. With Xena on her beast (named Pickles, but only she can call them that), it was easy to keep everyone in line. Cloth stole a quick moment to wave to Myla in the crowd, temporarily breaking protocol, but it wasn’t like Tiso was going to scold her for that, since he did the same thing. Once he finished his quick wave to his other date friend, he scanned the crowd and recognizing a few folks from Dirtmouth as well. A lot of people showed up to this dedication, hell, he even spotted a few spiders and bees in the crowd. It just made him scan the crowd more thoroughly. Threats could come from anywhere, and he took security very seriously.

It wasn’t long before he spotted the Kings approach the platform and climb on, waiting for the crowds cheering to die down before they began the ceremony. Quirrel was doing the speaking today, Ghost standing beside them and holding his hand. Tiso remembered when Ghost was small enough to pick up and throw. It was lots of fun, but now they were too big for that. Oh well. As soon as the crowd’s noise died down, Quirrel tapped a speaking stone on the provided podium and his voice was projected outwards to be heard by everyone.

“Hello to you all, our dear subjects. Today we continue to do our very best to provide for you, our people, whom we dearly love and cherish. This site was a place of tragedy, and pain, part of the past of old Hallownest that was rife with corruption and oversight. But today we have washed away the dark and terrible past, to bring in the new, which is full of hope and life. We have -”

Quirrel had always been a good speaker. But Tiso wasn’t here to hear a speech. He heard it before, when Quirrel had asked him and his fellow knights to hear it and give honest feedback. Tiso had suggested Quirrel get to the damn point because nobody liked just standing around, so he thankfully cut the speech down by half.

There were bugs everywhere. Bugs in the square, bugs that could climb were hanging on buildings, bugs looking out windows, bugs on roofs, everywhere. Tiso scanned them all, eyes narrowed. It was no lie that there were bugs out there who didn’t agree with the direction the new government was taking, especially having another god as a ruler. Ghost and Quirrel had managed to piss off the right people. They were the folks that enjoyed profiting by gaming the system, and that system came tumbling down once Ghost claimed the throne. It got even worse when they married Quirrel, who was scarily smart. Quickly it became obvious that nobody was going to get away with old hustles anymore.

Quirrel continued talking, and Tiso continued watching. Then, something caught his eye. A glint of metal shined on one of the rooftops, a figure crouched down behind it. The glint moved, and Tiso’s heart went cold.

“GET DOWN!”  He shouted, and with a heft, threw his shield as hard as he could. Bugs instantly dropped to the ground and the knights gathered to the podium. The shield whistled through the air, and with a satisfying clunk, impacted the bug on the roof. There was a brief shout of pain, and then came the thwip as a crossbow bolt lodged itself in the podium. It was obviously aimed for the pillbug’s head, and it missed him by scant inches. Someone in the crowd screamed and it started a chain reaction of panic. Cloth and Ogrim took crowd duty, ushering the crowd into nearby buildings to get them off the streets and away from the danger.

Xena was already heading up to the roof atop her beast, the creature climbing up the sides with frightening speed. Tiso flashed his soul and recalled his shield, just in time to hear the bug on the roof start screaming once the beast reached it’s fanged maw out and grabbed them. He trusted Xena to keep at least enough of them alive for questioning later.

To add more chaos to the mix, some bugs in the crowd dropped their cloaks, revealing nails, and rushed the podium.

“No more gods! No more masters!” Some of them shouted. The sentiment was echoed by the other assassins as they parted through the crowd, not caring about who they knocked over or trampled in their haste. Bugs continued to scream, struggling to get out of the way as some were simply tossed aside to make way. Tiso could hear grubs wailing and the sharp clang of metal as some of the bugs in the crowd took up their own nails. They were valiantly trying to hold back the assassins, who cruelly cut them down and left them to bleed out. Thankfully medics were among the guards, and they quickly raced out to try and save the injured civilians.

So this was a coordinated assassination attempt, usually they were done by singular bugs. They must have gotten a little smarter. Tiso was about to jump into the fray, only to hold back when Hollow sped past him and body checked an assassin so hard that he could hear the chitin cracking from where he stood. Ouch.  He let Hollow do their thing and barked out orders to his guardsmen. They had to get everything under control, and fast.

However, the Kings of Hallownest were no pushovers. Quirrel practically teleported, moving with an insane amount of speed to kill an assassin with a flash of their nail. Since the crossbow bolt was aimed at him, Ghost was especially pissed. They were trying their best to not change into their true, terrifying form and completely destroy the square they worked so hard to rebuild. Judging by the extra three pairs of eyes that opened on their mask, they were barely holding on. Tiso did not blame them.

One assassin got lucky, moving at just the right time to scratch their nail along Quirrel’s side. He let out a hiss of pain and leapt backwards, ignoring the wound for now. He moved to retaliate, only to see said assassin become a smear of hemolymph on the platform. He glanced up to see an absolutely furious Ghost retract a void tentacle back into their body, still coated in a thin sheen of gore.

“Are you okay?” Ghost’s mental voice was now tight, louder. Quirrel could hear the rumbling of the void in behind, overlapping as the power of a god began to leak through Ghost’s control.

“Yes dear, just a scratch.” Quirrel sidestepped another assassin, bringing his nail around to cleanly slice off their nail arm. The assassin screamed, now missing an arm, and was quickly grabbed by Ghost and slammed bodily into the ground. Ghost then proceeded to kick them into the nearest building, cracking the stone slightly and leaving said bug a quivering mess.

As quickly as it all began, it was over. In total there were eight assassins. Three were outright dead, most due to Ghost. The rest were maimed and beaten bloody, but were alive. They weren’t too sure if the ones Hollow got to would survive or not. Either way, they weren’t going to get out of the situation alive, either by the executioner’s axe or dying from their wounds. Tiso had ordered the spare guard out, and there was a city wide search for more conspirators. There was no way to tell how many were out there, at least, until the prisoners were questioned. Something Tiso was going to enjoy doing so very much.

Ghost was panting, trying to calm down after losing their control for the bare moments it took for the fight to finish. Quirrel shivered, also breathing heavily. Adrenaline was surging through his body still and he doubted he’d be able to calm down anytime soon. Ghost had grabbed him, holding him tight as they too, shook. For a being designed to have no emotions, Ghost sure wore theirs on their sleeve, frantically patting Quirrel down for injuries. He knew what they were afraid of, and he stopped their hands with his to prevent their anxiety from taking over their rational thought.

“I’m okay love, it’s just a scratch.” He had time to look at his wound, bleeding blue. It wasn’t even terribly deep. It would just need some cleaning and some shell paste. If anything, it was making a mess of his cloak. The cleaners were going to have an absolute fit about it. He sighed as Ghost moved their hands to the wound, clearly worried.

“Your Majesties!” Ogrim hurried over. “Are you okay?”

“We’re fine, thank you. What of the assassins'?” Quirrel again, moved his hands to hold Ghost’s as he listened to Ogrim.

“Captured. We have guards scouring the city for anything suspicious.” The dung beetle looked about the now empty square, watching the assassins that were dead being dragged away. “Tiso and Xena are going to head an investigation once they interrogate-”

Ghost whistled, stopping Ogrims words. “I will interrogate them.”

“Your majesty, are you sure, you-”

“I am very sure.” They had since hunched protectively over Quirrel, arms like a gate around him. The malice in their 'voice' wasn't hard to miss, something Ogrim picked up on. He was always able to pick out the tiniest of details.

Ogrim bowed his head, but spoke plainly. “With all due respect, as your knight, and as your friend, I urge you to at least let the captain and his lieutenant do their job first before you decide to do anything.”

“Ogrim is right, love.” Quirrel reached up to cup Ghost’s cheek, hand oddly feeling weak. Perhaps he was still worked up? He started feeling a little dizzy, maybe he needed somewhere quiet to de-stress for a little while. He wouldn't mind retreating back to their bedroom to cuddle for a while. That should be able to do the trick nicely. Still, he continued with his advice. “You are too worked up right now. You need to calm down first. We both do.”

Ghost shook for a moment, and then took a few deep breaths. “Okay. Please tell Tiso and Xena to get as much from the prisoners as they can. I will be there shortly.”

Ogrim nodded. “Of course, Cloth and Hollow will be here soon and they will be able to escort you back to the palace.”

Quirrel started to say something and then was hit by a sudden wave of light headedness. He grabbed onto Ghost’s arm to steady himself as he momentarily lost feeling in his legs.

Ogrim and Ghost noticed that for sure. “Your majesty?” Ogrim questioned, reaching out a claw to offer support.

“No no- I’m fine...I’m..” The world twisted and a spike of pain and nausea punctured his gut. He suddenly couldn’t tell which way was up or down anymore. His legs gave out and through an increasing and concerning wave of numbness, he felt himself being caught.

“QUIRREL!!”  The mental shout was loud, and with it came more noises he couldn’t quite make out.

Ok, well… fuck.” The pain seemed to get worse, now a burning sensation that spread from the wound on his side to the very core of his body. His lungs hurt. His heart hurt. A disturbing wave of pain twisted around his limbs and went right into his brain. It suddenly got more difficult to breathe as he clutched his spouse with his claws.

He was dimly aware of someone screaming desperately, echoing around his head as he lost the ability to understand it, he was too busy gasping for breath.

The noises blended together until finally, there was nothing but darkness.

-----

“In you go, ya fucker.” Tiso not so gently tossed one assassin, a particularly nasty looking cricket, onto the stone floor of the dungeon cell. They had given just the bare amount of medical care necessary to keep them alive. The worst injury was the stump where their nail arm used to be, cleanly cut in half by the biggest nerd in the kingdom. “This’ll be your new home for a while, but it can get a little nicer if you decide to talk.”

“It won’t make any difference,” The cricket spat a wad of hemo on the floor. “I’m dead anyway.”

“True…” Tiso mused, leaning on the bars to stare the other bug right in the eyes. “But would you rather prefer a quick death, or being dragged kicking and screaming into the void? Cause let me tell you, I’d rather take a beheading over that. That shit is fucked up.”

“Typical of a tyrant.”

“You seriously calling the squirt and the nerd tyrants? I mean, they literally were about to open a public greenhouse so that everyone can eat before you idiots crashed it.” Tiso tapped his shield against the bars, making the metal ting in the most annoying way possible. He absolutely loved messing with prisoners like that, it made them slip up more often than not. Tiso learned more from pissing off the prisoners than he ever did 'nicely' interrogating them. “I don't know about you, but that don’t sound like tyrants to me.”

“All gods, are tyrants.” The doomed assassin moved to sit up, resting their back against the cold stone walls. Their movements were awkward, now that they were missing an arm. “The Pale King was. The Radiance was. Even the White Lady. Now we have an even more powerful tyrant as our king! We can’t keep letting ourselves become playthings for monsters!”

“Call them a monster one more time and I’ll feed ya to Xena’s beast, and the beast chews slowly.” Tiso narrowed his eyes at the bug on the other side of the bars. He could roughly hear the other prisoners being tossed in their cells as well. Judging by the echoes, they were spouting the same nonsense and getting zero sympathy for it. “You’re a fucking idiot, you think you can just kill our Kings like that? King Ghost killed the Radiance, for fucks sake!”

The cricket smiled through their broken mandibles, dribbling hemo over their cloak. “No, we can’t kill the tyrant, but we can hurt them.”

Tiso stared, shocked by the words. A very bad feeling sat in his gut, and was quickly vindicated when Cloth rounded the corner.

“Tiso!” she shouted. “It’s Quirrel!”

“Yeah?” The bad feeling grew stronger and he desperately prayed to whatever was listening, that the next words out of his love's mouth wasn’t going to be bad news.

“Quirrel...he's...He’s been poisoned!”

Tiso’s world went numb, and all he could hear was the insane laughter of the prisoner behind him.

[ao3theskyisblue]

Take it easy

Summary:

“Are you looking to get infected?” Nancy raises an eyebrow, smiling when TK snorts. “Because I’m pretty sure I can make that happen.”

“I see you’re just going to be a pain in my neck both on shift and off shift, huh?” TK teases, the words said without an ounce of heat, and Nancy shrugs, grinning smugly.

“My lungs are dying, TK. I think I have complaining privileges.”

Written for Day 4 of  @911lonestarangstweek : Sickfic + “You need to rest.” 

Read on AO3

“Tell me I did not just hear from that lovely nurse Melody say what I think she just said.”

Nancy forces back a loud groan, knowing that she would just be coughing up her lungs again. Looking up from her Instagram feed, she spies TK leaning against the entry of her hospital room, looking less than impressed. She parts her lips to reply, but TK holds up a hand.

“That was a rhetorical question. I forbid you to say even a single word.” The words sound like a warning, but Nancy has worked and gotten to know her partner long enough to see how worried he was underneath the whole tough façade. His arms were crossed, trying to mask how he was itching to wring his hands together, and she could see the residual trembling as he fought back the urge to tap his feet against the linoleum flooring.

“I could have my lungs taken out and still have enough air to fight you, Strand.” Nancy croaks, wincing when she hears how bad she sounds through all the mucus and dry throat, but TK doesn’t bat an eye. She follows him with her eyes as he tentatively closes the distance between them to sit by the chair at her bedside, obviously ignoring the warnings the hospital personnel gave about personal space.

“Are you looking to get infected?” Nancy raises an eyebrow, smiling when TK snorts. “Because I’m pretty sure I can make that happen.”

“I see you’re just going to be a pain in my neck both on shift and off shift, huh?” TK teases, the words said without an ounce of heat, and Nancy shrugs, grinning smugly.

“My lungs are dying, TK. I think I have complaining privileges.” She coughs to the side that TK is not currently occupying, the brutal hacking sound making her entire chest feel on fire as she gratefully accepts the spit tray offered to her along with the glass of water.

“Which is exactly why you are not coming back to work. Did you seriously think the doctors would discharge you like this?” TK lifts an eyebrow skeptically, running a gentle hand down her back as she tries to breathe in without coughing all the air back out again. When she feels no more incoming coughs, she straightens to look at him.

“I can flash my badge and get a discharge back home. Then I’ll just slap on a mask and go back to work. I didn’t break my legs, TK, I have pneumonia. I’m perfectly fine.” Nancy gripes, narrowing her eyes at TK’s scoff.

“You need to rest. Need I remind you why you’re in the hospital in the first place?” TK sighs, lifting his hands up before dropping them down on his lap. “You already had a cold before that call, and then you decided to leap off the side of a bridge like Prince Charming in that third Cinderella movie. Into the lake. Which was freezing, by the way.” TK shuddered, as if taken back to that scene, and Nancy held back a laugh because that would not help her coughing get any better.

“Oh, silly me. I should have dipped my toes in the water one-hundred feet up in the air to test the temperature before trying to save that little girl’s life. I’ll make sure to keep that in mind and grow longer legs in my next lifetime to do just that.” Nancy says drily, and she just smiles innocently as TK glares daggers at her.

“And you say I’m the impulsive one.”

“You literally jumped in right after me, so that argument’s invalid.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t catch pneumonia after, did I?”

They stare at each other blankly, before their lips twitch upwards at the same time as laughter fills up the room. Nancy tries to hold her own giggles back, but it was difficult when she had a partner that gave as good as he got, which made her want to strangle him half the time, and the rest of the time hug him and never let go.  

“I still remember the double death glares from the captains,” Nancy manages to get out between their laughter with coughs mixed in between, and TK lifts a hand to cover his face, a wide grin peeking out from between his fingers.

“Little Amelia must have been so confused. I mean, there we were, soaked to the bone holding her in between us while our entire station just glares at us and planning the best way to murder us both.” TK snorts, and Nancy feels a new bout of laughter threatening to come out when she remembers the six pairs of eyes that just stared at them incredulously.

“You’re lucky Carlos wasn’t there. I’m surprised he hasn’t already been lugging around a portable doghouse for you to climb into next time this kind of thing happens.” Nancy snickers, laughing at the face TK makes at that.

“Oh, he chewed me out thoroughly when I got home. In between tucking in blankets and not letting me leave the couch in my homemade burrito, I couldn’t so much as go to the washroom without him glaring at me for even trying to get up.” TK rolls his eyes fondly, and Nancy feels her smile soften at the affection shining through every single one of his words.

“Love looks good on you, Strand.” Nancy nudges him lightly with an elbow, and receives a gentle squeeze on her arm. She knows she’s not going to like the next words that come out of TK’s mouth when his eyes suddenly sparkle mischievously.

“Speaking of love,” Nancy shoots him a glare at that, because she knows exactly where this conversation was going and that was not to describe what it was. “How’s that thing that we were discussing a few days ago going?” TK wiggles his eyebrows teasingly, and Nancy sighs in exasperation.

“It’s not going. Anywhere. We’re friends,” Nancy shrugs, looking down at the hospital linens, slowly picking at them with her hands. It was the truth, they were friends. So what if her insides feels a little weird when they were in a room together, it didn’t mean anything. “And she hasn’t spoken a single word to me since this happened.”

She let out a few quiet coughs, remembering how Marjan had hovered over them – over her at the scene, but then after she got admitted into the hospital, nothing. Not a peep. Not even a text or the occasional meme they send to each other over Instagram.

Maybe she had just been deluding herself the whole time.

Maybe her heart was slowly splitting into tiny pieces.

Asking for the moon was sometimes easier than wishing someone would stay.

TK falls silent next to her, and just when she tries to put on her best smile and change the subject, she feels a hand squeeze hers.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop. You and I both know Marjan wouldn’t give someone the radio silence treatment without a reason. And, she has the night off today.” TK trails off, the suggestion lingering in the air and Nancy sighs.

She just wants to forget.

“You’re right, I’m just a little-” Nancy cuts herself off, pursing her lips at the frenzied thoughts circling her mind.

“-Sick and just want to see the person who makes your heart feel all funny for a while?” TK proposes, and Nancy turns to shoot him a playful glare, ignoring the heat slowly seeping into her cheeks.

“Okay smartass, turn down the notch on cocky bastard a little, will you?” Nancy grins as TK laughs, and she feels a brief moment of satisfaction when he doesn’t move away from her swat to his shoulder. “Now, I know for a fact that you brought food with you. Give me my offering.”

With a small tsk and a quiet mutter of “of course, since you asked so nicely,” TK hands her a cloth bag. She slowly takes out a metal container along with a spoon wrapped neatly in paper towels, lifting the lid curiously. Her eyes widen in surprise at what’s inside, smiling at how pretty it looks.

“Tofu?”

“Tofu pudding,” TK adds, smiling. “Carlos has been into Chinese cuisine lately and found this off the internet. You usually eat it cold, but we thought warming it up a little might be better for you. You get your daily dose of protein while actually enjoying the food, it’s a win-win.”

Nancy picks up the spoon and dips it into the soft pudding, admiring how smoothly the spoon slides through. She lifts it up to her mouth, and although a little bland (though she couldn’t really eat any heavily seasoned food for a while anyway), it was delicious.

“If you don’t marry your boyfriend, I’ll do it for you.” Nancy takes another bite of the soothing goodness, smiling around her mouthful when TK blushes.

“High praise, I’ll keep that in mind.” TK chuckles, and Nancy grins before taking another bite, loving how easy it was to swallow.

Then, another thought crosses her mind.

“Wait, how did you get in here, anyway? I thought they were barring visitors.” Nancy narrows her eyes at TK suspiciously, wondering how the nurses hadn’t come in to kick him out yet. TK just smirks, leaning back against the chair and crossing a leg over the other.

“You clearly don’t know me very well if you think that’s going to stop me.”

Nancy hums, though she really couldn’t complain. He brought her food, after all.

“Fair point.”

.

Nights were the worst.

She has been a paramedic for close to seven years, and still, she could never stop being offended by her own body betraying her at the most crucial time of the day when she needed to rest without wanting to tear her lungs out and dunk them in an ice bath.  

Sighing to give into her fate of a sleepless night yet again, she opens her eyes slowly, blinking against the dim lighting of her secluded room. Picking up her phone, she lets her eyes adjust to the change in brightness before a small smile slowly makes its way on her lips at the cute Buttercup video Mateo sent her a little earlier.

“Can’t sleep?”

Nancy jumps, a muffled shout coming out followed with a series of long coughs, making her wince.

Ugh, even the coughs at night were worse.

“Whoa, hey, easy. Sorry.” A warm hand rubbed her back in soothing circles, much like what TK had done earlier, but these hands left a lingering heat that didn’t disappear when they retracted hesitatingly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Marjan repeats quietly, her brown eyes stretched wide as she looks at her worriedly, and Nancy tries to smile, waving her off.

“It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting anyone.” Nancy lets out another cough before clearing her throat, gratefully accepting the water Marjan offers her. She takes a few sips, cringing at how her throat burns with each swallow.

The burn provides a welcome distraction from how Marjan was currently standing beside her hospital bed, wearing a simple green long-sleeved turtleneck and matching hijab, with a soft smile that brightened every single room she walked into.  

She suddenly felt self-conscious about her own appearance, no doubt sporting dark eye-bags from the lack of sleep and looking paler than a ghost from not eating much other than the food TK or Captain Vega brought in for her. Paul had also swung by a few times, along with the other members of the 126 but she didn’t have the heart to tell them and their openly kind expressions that she couldn’t really stomach a lot right now. That, and how ingesting anything, including water, felt like swallowing porcupine quills.

Still, the urge to hide behind her hair was strong.

“How did you even get in here?” Nancy asks instead, frowning when she remembered that visiting hours were long over, and yet, here Marjan was.

She noticed Marjan shifting nervously, and it was definitely something new. She wasn’t sure she’s ever seen Marjan being awkward or nervous, and certainly not around her.

“TK pulled some strings. And I may have had a little…conversation with the nurses.” Marjan winced a little, and Nancy couldn’t help quirking her lips up in a small smile.

“Conversation, huh?” She hums absently, biting back a laugh at Marjan’s nervous glances back at the nurse’s station. “Is that what you called the ripping-into you gave the tattoo artists?” She couldn’t help tease, her smile widening at the spots of colour spreading across Marjan’s cheeks.

“Well it definitely seems like you’re feeling a little better.” Marjan sighs in fond exasperation, the awkwardness dissipating between them, and Nancy follows her figure as she sits down tentatively on the chair beside her.

“Do firefighters just have no concept of ‘I’m infectious?’ Aren’t you also a qualified medic?” Nancy asks playfully, her heart doing a little jump at Marjan’s wide grin.

“In sickness and in health,” Marjan shrugs, as if she hadn’t just quoted wedding vows at her, and Nancy just stares at her blankly. Marjan lifts her gaze, and she fidgets slightly when she feels those eyes staring straight through her.

“I’ve never seen you with your hair down,” Marjan comments quietly, and Nancy starts, lifting a hand self-consciously to run her fingers through it. “It’s usually always in a bun or a ponytail. You look…different.”

Okay, that fills her with mild panic.

“I can always tie it back up? My mother always hated how long I would let my hair grow, so I always have a hair tie ready-”

A hand grasps her wrist gently before she can tug the hair tie off her wrist, and she looks up to see Marjan looking at her warmly.

“It’s a good different.” Nancy lets out a small puff of air at that, slowly lowering her hands back onto the thin covering. She couldn’t help but notice Marjan still not letting go of her wrist. Something conflicting passed by her expression, and Nancy noticed that she kept on parting her lips to say something before holding back.

Leaning back slowly against the ridiculous number of pillows, turning her head to clear her vision of a few loose strands of hair, Nancy waited.

“I’m sorry.”

Okay, that was something she hadn’t been expecting.

She snaps her head up, turning to look at Marjan in surprise.

Why was she apologizing?

“…for what?” Nancy asks cautiously, frowning when Marjan shifts her hand to squeeze her arm. Her other hand is pinching on the edges of her clothes, and Nancy wonders if it’s a nervous tick.

There’s a sharp laugh, though it was lacking all humour that cuts through the quietness of the room, and Nancy wants to smooth out the creases between her eyebrows as she scowls sadly.

“I gave you the silent treatment. I ignored you when– I just, I’m sorry.” Nancy feels her shoulders relaxing, and suddenly, she wants nothing more than to hug the woman looking like the human version of a kicked puppy beside her.

“But you came,” Nancy says softly, waiting until Marjan looks up before continuing. “You still came, and that’s all that matters.” In a sudden burst of courage, she covers the hand that’s on her arm with her own, smiling at the look of surprise that greets her.

Marjan blinks at her, then down at their hands. With a small smile, she squeezes hers.

And Nancy lets her.

“You know,” Marjan starts, her eyes looking a little distant as if she was re-living a memory. “When you just leaped off the side of the bridge without a second thought, the first thing I felt wasn’t fear.”

Nancy feels her heart drop to her stomach at the look of sheer terror resonating in her eyes, but Marjan still doesn’t look up fully.

“Instead, it was a strong pull, screaming at me to jump in after you, a never-ending urge to make sure you were safe,” Marjan says lowly, squeezing their hands tighter. “So, when I couldn’t do that, when Paul had to physically shove me back, that was when the fear hit.”

Nancy suddenly couldn’t feel the burning pain in her throat. She couldn’t feel the constant ache in her chest, or the little prickles of pain every time she breathed.

No, she couldn’t feel anything other than the warmth of Marjan’s hand in hers, and how hard she was squeezing it.

“There was- there was a moment where I wondered if I would ever see either of you again,” Marjan’s breath hitches at the end, and Nancy feels her own heart break at the way her eyes shine brightly.

“I have so much I want to know about you,” Her heart stuttered at the three words, said without an ounce of hesitation. When Marjan looks up at her with shining eyes, she forces back the urge to wipe away the tears that hadn’t fallen.

“I’m here. And I’m safe. A little battered and bruised, but I’ll be just fine.” Nancy whispers, smiling reassuringly, and feels lighter when Marjan smiles back, albeit a little weakly.

Still, it was a genuine smile nonetheless, and there was nothing Nancy enjoyed more in the world than to witness Marjan’s brilliant smile every day.

“Besides, I’ve already been pushing the doctors to release me already.” Nancy shrugs, ignoring the glare immediately sent her way.

“You need to rest,” Marjan shoots back without a beat, and Nancy rolls her eyes.

“First Strand, now you? I’m fine.” Nancy scowls, though the little sniffle she lets out after doesn’t really help her case. Still, she glares up at the female firefighter in front of her, daring her to comment on it.

They’re locked into one of their usual staring contests, where their eyes speak more than any words they could say. Nancy was determined to not be the one who broke this time, but the piercing look of seriousness was starting to make her squirm.

Marjan finally blinked, making her feel a brief sense of victory before it quickly disappeared when she says, “You don’t need to push yourself so hard all the time.”

Nancy scowls.

Pushing herself, huh?

She thinks back to her years in college, to all the people who didn’t believe. To her parents, who had tried to be encouraging, but she could still see the tiny flickers of doubt. After all, a paramedic? Long hours, average pay, and no account for the danger?

She knows there were many other reasons that she tried her best to shove into the deepest recesses of her mind, but she had gotten where she was today by working hard, without once looking back.

Sitting back from a job she’s known and wanted her entire life didn’t feel right, even when she could barely take in a breath without coughing up her lungs or ingest anything other than water.

There’s another squeeze of her hand, and Nancy is shaken out of her thoughts as a pair of eyes watch her carefully.

“We all see you,” Marjan says softly, and Nancy swallows past the pain. “We all love you, Nancy, and we just want you to feel better before you hurt yourself even worse.”

In the dim lighting of the room they were in, surrounded by the smell of sickness and the low humming of the heater, Nancy suddenly feels lighter.

She squeezes the hand she hadn’t let go of, a quiet chuckle breaking free.

“You all love me, huh?” She couldn’t help tease, but instead of flushed cheeks and the anticipated stuttering, Marjan just looks at her with resolution in her eyes.

“Without a doubt.”

 Without a doubt.

[much-obliged-timothy]

Today Twitter cursed me with the knowledge that Jack’s mask has goddamn EYE CLASPS and I couldn’t stop thinking about it all through work. So naturally, instead of focusing on the papers I have to write, I wrote this instead because god I can’t even imagine how dry and itchy Jack’s and Tim’s eye must be all the time???

I don’t even know anymore, just have moody Tim, bitchy Jack, and Visine

“An eye infection?” Timothy said in disbelief.

“Yes, sir,” the doctor said. “An eye infection.”

Tim reached up to rub at his eye again, but Jack smacked his hand away. Tim glowered at him before turning his attention back to the doctor.

“Do you work long hours in front of a computer screen?” the doctor asked.

“Uh, duh?” Tim said, gesturing to himself. “Handsome Jack, kiddo.”

“How long?” he said.

Tim shrugged. “Dunno. Depends. Maybe eight hours a day, on average?”

“Only eight?” Jack said.

“Shut up. This is your fault. I don’t know how, but every other bad thing in my life is your fault, so this is too,” Tim said.

“Well, I’d say that’s a big part of it,” the doctor said, ignoring their banter. “You need to take frequent breaks.”

“Wait, part?” Jack said.

“Yes, sir. I assumed you already figured out the other part,” the doctor said.

“If I already figured it out, I wouldn’t be waiting for you to explain,” Jack said impatiently.

Tim pointed to the corner of his eye. “Uh, the freaking eye clasp? It’s right at the corner of my eye. It itches like hell. Scratched my eye a few times, too.”

Jack scowled at him, pointing to his own eye. “I’ve never had a problem.”

“Because you don’t run around fighting. I wouldn’t have a problem either if I just sat in my office eating pretzels and fucking my girlfriend all day,” Tim said.

Jack spluttered at that. Tim ignored him and turned back to the doctor.

“I’d recommend...modifying it,” the doctor said carefully. “If you plan to send the doppelganger out to fight, that is. More...stationary tasks shouldn’t irritate his eye.”

“Stationary?” Jack glared between them.

“Yea, dude, you’re lazy,” Tim said.

“Shut up.” Jack kicked him roughly. “You’re how freaking old and you can’t even take care of your own damn eye?”

Tim wanted to point out that he was probably half Jack’s age, but he didn’t feel like being kicked again. He also wanted to point out the reason his right eye was so important to protect was because Jack had blinded his left one. But, still, it wasn’t worth getting kicked.

Besides, it was Jack who dragged Tim down to medical when he realized Tim was having problems with his right eye. Nisha had told Jack that Tim kept rubbing at it and complaining how much it hurt, and that Tim had been having trouble aiming lately. 

“Just give him whatever he needs to shake the infection,” Jack said.

“Sir, I urge you to take this seriously. Severe dry eye could lead to vision loss,” the doctor said. “You don’t want to take any chances when he only has one eye.”

“Yea, if only I hadn’t lost my left eye in that tragic accident where you tripped and hit me directly in the face with a brand. Oh, wait,” Tim said dryly. He endured the kick he received with grace. “You can’t even tell me it doesn’t bother you. How the hell does that eye clasp not poke you in the eye from time to time? Seriously, it feels weird when I blink.”

“I’m not a whiny bitch like you, pumpkin. Finish up here and go back to your room,” Jack said, leaving medical.

“Such a prick,” Tim grumbled.

He finished up and went back to his room as instructed. His eye was bothering the hell out of him, but he resisted the urge to rub it. Whoever had designed the stupid mask with eye clasps deserved to be branded and forced to wear one of these things 24/7.

Tim collapsed on his couch. He wondered if being fully blind would be such a bad thing. At least then he had an excuse not to do his work.

His door flung open. Tim considered playing dead, because how much of Jack could he really take in one day?

“Stop kicking me, you absolute dickbag!” Tim said as Jack dug his shoe into Tim’s side.

“Stop whining,” Jack said. He unceremoniously dropped something right on Tim’s face.

“Ow! The doctor just told you to take better care of my eye, not drop shit on it,” he said, catching whatever it was before it could fall.

“Language,” Jack chided. “I need you in perfect shape. We’re not letting that handsome face go to waste. Take better care of it.”

“I’m not the one who disfigured it,” Tim muttered.

“What was that?”

“I said I’m not letting anything happen to this handsome face.”

Jack knelt next to Tim and grabbed his face between his hands. Tim resisted the urge to shove him away. He could only be kicked so much in one day.

Jack’s thumb skimmed dangerously close to Tim’s right eye as he inspected the clasp there. Finally, he released Tim’s face and stood up.

“I’ll look into it,” he said. “In the meantime, at least pretend you’re competent enough not to go blind.”

Tim saluted him. “No promises, boss.”

“If I hadn’t spent so much money on you, I’d strangle you,” Jack said, though he said that so often it had become an empty threat by now. 

He left Tim’s room. Tim dropped back down on the couch.

“Worst. Boss. Ever,” he groaned. “I hate it here. Totally not worth the paycheck anymore.”

He looked down at the item in his hand that Jack had dropped on his face. He stared at it for a long moment before staring up at the ceiling.

“Good going, Timothy. Look how your life turned out,” he said.

Still, he pushed himself off the couch, Visine in hand. As he headed towards the bathroom to apply the eyedrops, he very thoroughly cursed the asshole who had designed the stupid fucking mask with eye clasps.

[undignifiend]

Been thinking about my oc Warden again. Might play with his design a little more, too, we’ll see. In the meantime, here’s some notes on him:

Warning for vague naughtiness and safe vore mentions below the cut. ;)

+++++

+Excuse me, officer, that’s my Emotional Support Creeper

+The chillest, chonkiest, and most well-adjusted of all my Trollhunters ocs by a long shot.

+For those new to him, he’s a changeling who runs a lucrative side-business where he uses his big troll form as a “one-of-a-kind lifelike animatronic run by cutting-edge AI tech” for “simulated” experiences with human clients. Proceeds go to the Janus Order, but he keeps a cut to keep his cover smooth and occasionally indulge in luxuries. He meets all kinds of people, and enjoys interacting with them in contexts where they aren’t frightened (or truly frightened). Gives amazing aftercare and massages (whether anything spicy happened or not, if that’s what a client wants. It’s not all spicy, but he does enjoy indulging such whims, within his own limits).

+He’s got strict rules to keep people safe in these instances (repeat customers mean more money and connections). He can get rough if they want, but he has his own limits as to how rough he’ll go. Will pin people (not enough to crush them) and make them recite The Rules (discussed later) if they try to ignore them because “he’s a machine, he’s not real”. That’s his first warning. Any subsequent violations terminate the session. No refunds.

+Disaster Bi/Pan. Very romantic and enjoys making clients (and partners outside work) feel thoroughly cared for. Doesn’t get attached as easily as he seems to, but when he falls, he falls hard.

+Has a weakness for stories about superheroes with secret identities. Will occasionally do vigilante work, and covers his tracks carefully.

+Diligent about his hygiene. On one hand, he sees it as respectful to his Familiar to keep his human form clean and good looking. (Though this sometimes looks like vanity to those who don’t know any better. He really is quite vain about his troll form, though.) And on the other, humans tend to be far pickier (even if less sensitive) than trolls about smell, and his side-business model relies on reassuring them that they’re in a safe, clean, relaxing environment.

+In his human form, he plays one of the bartenders and bouncers for a hotel near the wilderness that is classier and more successful than anyone paying attention to it would suspect, given its somewhat remote location. It sees just enough traffic (including private events and conventions) to maybe justify it, and he contributes some of his earnings to helping the place thrive. It’s his cover, where his clients meet him face-to-(human)-face, so he’s invested in keeping it respectable, which also helps encourage clients to come back for more. He also drives his clients to the even more remote caves (warded by enchantments that disguise signals to give false reports of where they actually are to any tracking devices or scrying attempts) where the scenarios take place, and drives them back to the hotel afterward. Before a session, his human form takes the client(s) to the room where the session will occur, and he “leaves to monitor the AI” through an off-limits passage that loops through a fake “control room” to another, bigger passage for his troll form to enter from.

+The humans working at the hotel have an understanding with him, though they don’t know what he is. He occasionally departs to see to this “side business”, and so long as nobody questions or talks about it, or puts a tracker on his car, or any shenanigans like that, he contributes a cut of his pay to the hotel. It also helps that he’s a dependable and amiable co-worker, and no one around him has suspiciously vanished yet.

+Still, some employees feel like it’s a deal with a devil. He’s been there long enough that it’s starting to become apparent that he either uses a damn good moisturizer, or he doesn’t age. That, and he’s preternaturally strong and fast. On the rare occasions that fights break out, he ends them quickly, and his injuries recover fast despite his avoidance of hospitals. He’s getting to the point where he’s going to have to start fresh elsewhere soon.

+More relaxed in his troll form, but for different reasons than Dezoka. He sees his human form as borrowing his familiar’s image, prefers to treat it with dignity, and doesn’t take disrespect to it lightly.

+Before his current business model, he used to rob banks as an outlaw. Proceeds also went to the Janus Order to help fund their operations.

+Primarily relies on his size, strength, and situational awareness in (and before) combat. He’s not an especially skilled fighter compared to Dezoka, Ulvek, or Zahnn, (he’s a bit out of practice since his outlaw days, and it’s been a long, long time since he’s had to contend with the Darklands) but he’s resilient, observant, and hits hard.

+Loves to eat people (in all the fun ways). His stomach can double as a portable high-security safe holding cell. Not a big fan of keeping prisoners that way. He’ll bitch and grumble, but he’ll still do it if he thinks he has to. Prefers willing participants. He’s kinda spoiled on them, and the idea of someone trusting him enough for it makes him really happy, and is his favorite indulgence.

+Where that particular bit of physiology is concerned, I’ve been thinking of designing a group of trolls with this trait and figuring out how his particular safe vore shenanigans might work. Warden’s stomach lining is peppered with many thousands of specialized, regenerating cellular nodes that exchange O2 and CO2 gases from his own bloodstream for his “guest’s” benefit, so suffocation isn’t an issue for anyone inside so long as Warden can keep breathing. His stomach also contains a mild acid that won’t do much more than gently exfoliate and disinfect open wounds (it’s got a pH of about 4 or 5, which I think is typically alright for skin anyway). The acidity ramps up in cases where a high amount of necrotic tissue is detected, to digest it before it rots further, and to kill any infection that might in turn infect him. This can also damage any living tissue still attached to the dead stuff, which will hurt for anyone still alive (so it’s not a good treatment for seriously injured folks), but after the dead tissue is eaten away, the pH will return to a more neutral zone - but remain acidic enough to keep open wounds disinfected as a guest’s body recovers. His stomach can also mildly aid recovery through gentle contractions to massage a guest and improve circulation while they’re curled up in there. But he will use his hands a lot, too. He loves being full and holding people this way.

+‘The Rules’ (including safe words) are customizable and negotiated before a session is even paid for, both for clarity’s sake, and “for programming adjustments”. All involved decide what they want and what their boundaries are. A client can change their mind if they decide they don’t actually want to do something, but Warden will not agree to any last minute additions that involve a safety/trauma risk. For example, if a client decided that they want him to swallow them whole, they can change their mind mid-session if they’re too nervous to go through with it (and can change their mind back again if they decide that they actually feel ready). But if they ask him to do it during a session where that was not planned, he will decline. Reluctantly. Even if it's safe, he understands it can also be really terrifying for those who aren’t ready, and he prefers to err on the side of caution where that’s concerned. Fearplay is great, and he loves playing up the role of a wicked, cruel predator - but that's the sort of thing that has to be discussed first so the client knows they have the power to stop it if it gets too intense.

+How to convince him that you’re Evil Incarnate: He has a sweet tooth and a serious weakness for foodplay and stuffing. It’s the most effective way to tease the daylights out of him, so he always gets a bit nervous when this comes up in establishing a session’s Rules. Doesn’t fluster easily, but just thinking about this will do it. Especially loves it as a prelude to vore. Will also do this without vore, but it’s kind of a struggle to hide just how wildly hungry and desperate that leaves him. He’ll be a professional about it, and he won’t violate The Rules or try to pressure a client/partner no matter how desperate he gets. Stuffing himself silly doesn’t fix it, either, it just leaves him delirious and aching for live, warm squirming in his stomach. Belly rubs and mouthplay are the cruelest little cherries on top. If he thinks his client/partner knows what they’re doing to him, he’ll be ticked off, but also impressed and intimidated. Either way, he won’t be able to stop thinking about them and wanting to take them somewhere nice and hold their hand and move in together and sappy stuff like that. And eat them, of course. He’ll lose a lot of sleep over just how badly he wants to eat them.

[miss-tc-nova]

Contagious Affection - Riku x Reader

Oh my gods! I’m so sorry this took so long! Life’s been crazy, you know, but I’ve been thinking about it ever since you asked. Thankfully, things are gonna slow down for me soon and I can focus more on what I love: writing. 

I hope you enjoy.

~~~~~

              “Riku! Stop!”

              The perpetrator freezes, shock across his face and a fist against his eye. Huffing, I slap his hand down and proceed to clean it with a wet wipe.

              “Ugh, this sucks,” he grumbles, blinking awkwardly to relieve his clearly irritated eyes.

              “Yes, but if you don’t keep your hands away from your face, you’re gonna make it worse and get your germs everywhere.” I point a finger at him. “And if you give me pink eye, I’m gonna make you miserable.”

              Threats bounce off his resilience. “With you around, I don’t know if that’s possible.”

              “Shush! No amount of smooth talk will soothe my rage if I get infected! Got it?!”

              “Yeah yeah,” he says, clearly not taking me seriously.

              “Good. Now go take everything off the bed so I can wash it.”

              That saps his pleasantness. “Don’t you think you’re going a little overboard with this?”

              “Listen, I’ve had pink eye before—it ain’t fun. I do not want it again and if all this seems excessive, it’s only because sometimes you have trouble following the really simple instructions such as STOP TOUCHING YOUR EYES!”

              His hand instantly drops as he realizes what he’s doing. “Oh…”

              A stern point directs him to the bottle of sanitizer on the nightstand. I’m not quite exasperated with the boy, but I will be thoroughly annoyed if I get pink eye because he can’t restrain himself.

              Riku begins pulling the bed apart and I amble into the hall for clean linen. As I’m digging through the closet, the doorbell rings. Lo and behold, we have unexpected guests in Riku’s closest friends.

              “Hey,” Sora greets with a beaming grin.

              Kairi waves. “Hi.”

              The answer is pretty much guaranteed but it’s only polite to ask. “Hey guys. What’s up?”

              “Is Riku around? He promised to show us one of his master techniques he came up with,” the red-head answers.

              “I’m sorry, but Riku really shouldn’t hang out today. He’s got pink eye.”

              The last thing I expected from his two best friends is that they would light up at the news of Riku having a contagious infection.

              “Really?!” Sora exclaims. “His eyes are pink?!”

              No politeness is offered as the pair bustles past me. I close the door, a bit perturbed, and scurry after the two who have ambushed my inflicted boyfriend in the bedroom.

              “Woah! Hey! What the hell?!”

              “C’mon! Lemme see!” Sora demands, practically scaling the taller boy while Kairi watches expectantly.

              “Sora! Get off!”

              That’s when I see the hands reaching for Riku’s face.

              Snatching the back of his jacket, I tear Sora off and put myself between the sick and the visiting. “Woah woah woah! What are you doing?!”

              “We just wanna see!”

              Kairi puts in her defense. “Yeah. I haven’t seen his eyes change colors yet.”

              It hits me what they’re thinking. “Riku doesn’t have pink eyes!” I exclaim. “He has pink eye! And he’s still contagious! Go wash your hands!”

              The girl’s eyes widen as she comprehends but Sora is still clearly confused. “He what?”

              I throw a finger in Riku’s direction. “Look at him! His eyes are still green; the pink is on the outside! He’s sick and you were touching his face! You’re gonna get sick if you don’t go wash your hands now!”

              “You better do as they say,” warns Riku. “They’ve been disinfecting everything and threatened to tie me to a chair at least twice.”

              Finally, Sora hurries off to the bathroom and Kairi asks, “Isn’t pink eye pretty mild?”

              “Usually, but I had a pretty bad infection when I was little and I do not want to do that again,” I explain. “It doesn’t help that Riku keeps forgetting not to touch his face every five minutes.”

              His eyes roll at my complaints and a hand instinctively reaches up to alleviate the resulting irritation. It barely takes any thought to swatting his hand.

              “If I somehow make it through the next few weeks without getting it, it’ll be a miracle.”

              “You’re just being dramatic,” Riku reprimands.

              “No, you’re being careless,” I retort, resuming his half-finished assignment of pulling off the sheets and blankets.

              Kairi and Sora visit for a while, frequently forgetting that Riku is contagious until firmly reminded. On the bright side, despite his irritation, Riku doesn’t seem all that put out by his infection—I’d hate to see him truly under the weather.

              Bidding farewell, the guests take their leave and I close the door behind them.

              “Those two will have pink eye this time tomorrow,” I mumble.

              Riku agrees, “Probably—Sora touched his face like half a dozen times in the last hour.” Returning my full focus to the job of cleaning the apartment, I stroll towards the kitchen. “What are you doing now?”

              “I gotta make dinner. But I’m gonna be lazy and just do mac and cheese.”

              A grip on my shoulder pulls me around so he can lead back towards the sofa. “Will you slow down for a moment. You’ve been going non-stop since we got back from the clinic. Take a break.”

              He’s right but while I want to just collapse and spend some time with the sickie, there’s a lot to clean to make sure the contagions don’t spread. “Riku…”

              “Nope.” One more nudge puts me on the couch. “Relax. No one’s going to die, or get sick, if you take a break for ten minutes.”

              Attempting to thwart his task is a beeping alarm. “And that’s the laundry.”

              “If I go switch it over now, will you just sit with me for a bit?” My sigh of defeat is taken as an answer and he leaves to throw the clothes in the dryer before coming back to flop beside me. In an effort to distract me, his hands play with my fingers as we chat. It’s the most peace I’ve had since waking up to the invasive illness.

              Honestly, Riku’s always been the laid back one in our relationship, versus my nitpickiness; he can roll with life’s surprises better than I can. The boy wasn’t even going to go to the clinic until I practically shoved him out the door. And though sometimes this indifference can get irritating, he’s always been a pro at keeping me from going overboard and drowning myself in self-imposed responsibilities. In the same vein, I tend to keep things a bit more orderly around here. It’s not that he’s a slob or anything but—as evident with this pink eye—some things just get away from him.

              “Alright, now I really should go start dinner,” I hum. An annoying buzz sounds. “Is that the dryer?” I glance to the clock before swiping at Riku. “That was way longer than ten minutes!”

              “Whoops,” he chuckles, not the least bit fazed by my attack.

              “You’re terrible. How I get anything done with you around is beyond me.”

              “Because you’re amazing.”

              “Don’t try to butter me up,” I scoff. When he simply smiles, the reality of how hectic I’ve been today begins to set in. A soft laugh escapes me. “Geeze, how do you put up with me?”

              That grin softens, becoming the embodiment of admiration; it nearly entices me to forgo dinner to indulge in his company.

              That comfort falters when a ring of magenta sparks in his eyes, swallowing the teal color until all that’s left behind is that vibrant shock.

              “Because I love you,” he hums.

              First off, neither of us have come up with the courage to say that yet and I know I should be over the moon with delight, but I’ve never seen anything like this before so all I can do is stare. This is not the reaction he was expecting, though, and that soft happiness vanishes.

              “Oh my gods! Was that too soon?! You don’t have to say it back! I—”

              “Your eyes are pink!” I manage to blurt out.

              It’s his turn to stare. “Yyyyeah…I have pink eye.”

              “No! They aren’t green anymore—they’re pink!”

              The blush flushing over his face nearly matches the color of his eyes. “O-Oh…”

              “I’ve never seen this before!” I push off the sofa. “I better call the doctor and—”

              Riku’s hand snatches my wrist. Looking back, I find him wearing that same warm smile—that magenta shade undulating brighter. “It’s okay; it’s a dream eater thing.”

              This is where he has to explain to me what a dream eater is, how he ended up becoming one, and that his eyes occasionally change color depending on his emotions.

              “Is this what those two were talking about when they wanted to see your pink eyes?” I ask after.

              “Yeah.”

              “Oh thank gods—I was really worried about their sanity for a moment.”

              “You should still be worried,” the young man teases.

              We share a laugh but as I watch him, I can’t help noticing the brightness in his eyes. “So, if the color depends on your mood, what does pink mean?”

              I half expected the guy to break out in another full blush, but instead it only accents his cheeks as he smirks. “I know you’re smart enough to figure it out.”

              I’d kiss him if I wasn’t afraid of his pink eye, the sickness not the eye color. Still, I follow his lead: “I love you too.”

~~~~~

The next day…

              “I told you guys if you weren’t careful you were gonna get it too,” I scold, smacking Sora’s hand from his face with a wet wipe. “Stop touching your eyes!”

              He complains, “But it itches!”

              “I don’t care!” I snap, turning my glare on Kairi who’s halfway to rubbing her eyes. “If you don’t stop, I’m gonna put eye patches on both of you and tie you to chairs!”

              “They’re not joking,” Riku adds, giving me the side eye. “I was stuck at the kitchen table for three hours this morning.”

              “See? Don’t tempt me,” I say, eyeing the sulking pair. I swear, getting these two to resist the urge to rub their eyes is worse than keeping the seagulls at the pier away from food.

              When there are no more complaints, I stalk into the kitchen to start dinner, of which I now have to make extra.

              “Thanks for taking care of them,” Riku hums, having followed.

              “It’s fine. We knew they were gonna catch it,” I reply, washing potatoes in the sink. A little simper takes over. “But they aren’t gonna tell me they love me and get glowing eyes too, are they?”

              “No,” he sighs. “Just me.”

              “Just for me?” I coo.

              Riku chuckles. “Just for you.”

              Putting aside the food, I tug at his shirt. “Say it.” I’ve made this demand a few times already so it’s no wonder he just laughs. “Come on, please. Say it!”

              I could fly our whole apartment building with the butterflies raging in my stomach at the sight of that fuchsia flash. With absolute adoration, he snakes his arms around my waist and nuzzles against my nose.

              “I love you.”

              Delighted, I bury my face in his chest, squeezing as tight as I can. His chin nudging against my forehead makes me look back.

              “Your turn now,” he insists.

              Without hesitation and knowing that I one hundred percent mean it, I respond, “I love you too.”

              “Good, because now you’re probably gonna get pink eye,” he snickers, indicating our close proximity.

              “Shit!”

[kimjongdaely]

Escape [Chapter 2]

Superhero!AU/Villain!AU

Pairing: Kai x Reader

Warnings: Language, violence, torture

Summary: All your life you were caged and tortured, a never-ending cycle of pain. You no longer remember a life beyond that. All you wanted to do was escape this cruel fate. But finally finding your escape and being saved by a masked criminal was just the beginning of your nightmares. Can you ever really be free?

Chapter 1│Chapter 2│Chapter 3│Chapter 4│Chapter 5

It was rather peaceful that night. Kai had ordered pizza (his fridge was empty, save for a few bottles of water for some reason), insisting I eat something before bed. It was delicious, to say the least, since I’ve never really eaten “normal food”— according to Kai—in my time at the lab.

I was always given pills in place of food. It was something that Dr. Walters had invented, pills that tasted like nothing but would give me the nutrients I needed to survive, keeping me alive well enough. So pizza was indeed the most delicious thing I’ve eaten so far. I wonder what other delicacies I’m missing out on.

After that, he ushered me to the bathroom, threw me a towel and some clothes.

“Get clean.” He ordered, shooing me away. “You look awful.”

Looking at myself in the mirror, I agree. My hair is matted, my skin covered in grime. The testing clothes I wear, a tight back jumpsuit, is torn in several places, probably also covered in blood. I look so much older than I remember being, bags under my eyes and skin deathly pale. It’s hard to believe I made it so far in such a condition. I can hardly recognize myself—the last time I saw myself in a mirror was so long ago.

Stepping into the shower, letting hot water hit my skin, I hiss. The wounds on my back stings, and I try my best to wash off the filth so they don’t get infected, hopefully. Couldn’t help getting my new bandages wet.

I sigh in relief once I begin lathering soap into my hair, glad to feel clean after so long. I feel human at last.

After my relaxing shower, I step out and wrap myself in the blanket, feeling warm and safe and relaxed. Now that I am, I suddenly feel so sleepy.

Doing my best to pat myself dry despite my many wounds, I put on the clothes Kai handed me. A big baggy white t-shirt and equally baggy sweats. I tie the string around my waist as tightly as possible so it doesn’t fall down. I blow dry my hair, feeling how soft it’s become after a good wash compared to the monstrosity it was before.

Staring at myself in the mirror, I let myself smile. I still look awful, but better. Way better.

Heading out, I find Kai typing on his laptop, looking very focused. I fidget, wondering what I should do. “Um...”

“You can take the bed.” Kai says without looking up. “You must be tired.”

“Oh, no it’s okay.” I hurriedly say. “I can sleep on the sofa.”

He taps a key, looking up at me. His lips are pulled into an amused smile. “I can’t let a pretty girl sleep on the couch. Don’t worry and just go to sleep. I’ll do my best to keep my hands to myself.” If I could see his eyes he might’ve winked at me.

“I can’t tell if you’re a good person or not.” I mumble under my breath as Kai gets up, setting his laptop onto the coffee table.

“I’m not a good person. Just in it for the money, sweetheart.” He pinches my cheek as he walks by, heading into the bathroom. “By the way, my clothes look good on you.”

The bathroom door slams shut before I could hit him. His laughter is muffled on the other side.

I hear water running, and now that I’m alone in the room, I wonder what I should do. Well, he did give me permission to sleep, so I suppose that’s what I’ll do. I head over to the bed, climbing in tentatively. It’s soft and smooth, and I wrap the blankets around my body like a safe cocoon. I sigh into the pillows, fatigue instantly catching up to me. I have never felt so comfortable in my life, and part of my brain kicks into high alert. I won’t allow myself to fall deeply asleep, only enough to get the rest I need to fight another day. Years of being in the lab trained me this way. I never know when I’ll in danger and need to protect myself.

I can’t trust Kai, after all.

I hear the shower stop. Muffled sounds of him moving around, quiet humming. The door clicks open, and I am immensely curious about what he looks like. I manage a peak while feigning sleep. He has a towel around his bare shoulders, water dripping down his dark hair. He wears a pair of black sweatpants but, to my disappointment, I can’t see his face from here.

He stands with his back facing me, dries his hair more thoroughly with the towel and then puts his mask back on.

Seems he isn’t taking any chances either.

I see him begin to turn towards me, so I close my eyes and even out my breathing. I feel him checking me, making sure I’m asleep before he moves away. There’s a quiet click, and then a soft female voice can be heard.

“Hey Kat.” Kai greets, most likely talking into a phone. There’s a pause as Kat speaks. “Yeah, she’s at the apartment.” Another pause. “No need, I’ll handle it. Yeah, okay, bye.”

He hangs up, letting out a sigh. There’s some shuffling and I assume he’s getting comfortable on the couch. Light dances across the wall, which I think is from the TV, though there’s no sound.

“Go to sleep.” His voice rings in the quiet room, making me stiffen. He knew? I choose to stay quiet, lying very still and trying not to react. He sighs again, shifting. “Seriously, sleep. You need it, and so do I. You’re safe here.”

Safe.

I swallow, the word getting stuck in my throat. I am safe. It’s such a difficult idea to wrap my head around because I’ve never been safe before. My life has been threatened every waking moment of my life and I’m just so...exhausted.

To hear him say that...was comforting. It brought tears to my eyes which I quickly blinked away, taking a quiet breath to calm myself. In all honesty, I don’t know if I’m safe. I don’t know if I can trust Kai. I don’t know who paid him to save me.

But for now, I believe I am safe.

I close my eyes, and I let myself sleep.

Voices. Light.

I breathe in, blinking awake. The ceiling is unfamiliar. I lie on something soft, not the hard concrete floor I am used to. There are no bars or lasers keeping me confined. The room smells of aftershave and baked goods, rather than sweat and vomit. No men in lab coats. No cameras. No Dr. Walters.

I choke out a gasp, and someone is beside me in an instant. “Oh thank goodness!”

It’s a voice I don’t recognize. I turn my head, looking at a girl about my age. Her eyes are bright green, hazel hair falling to her shoulders. She wears fingerless black gloves, a simple t-shirt and jeans.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

Now that’s a voice I recognize. I glance over as Kai joins the girl, his full suit on and his arms crossed over his chest. He grins down on me. “Got us worried. You were out for two days.”

I blink, then shoot up. Two days!? There’s no way I would let myself stay out for so long. “What?”

“You must’ve been exhausted.” The girl says, tapping something on her tablet. “That mad scientist sure did a number on you.”

I wince at the mention of him. 

“Anyways,” Kai clears his throat, then gestures at the girl. “This is Katrina, Kat for short. She’s my partner in crime.”

“The behind the scenes girl.” Kat says, grinning and looking quite proud. “I make sure he doesn’t kill himself.”

Kai scoffs. They seem close, quite the team if I’m honest.

“So, how do you feel?” Kai asks, probably scrutinizing me from under his mask.

“Better.” I flex my hands, rolling my shoulder. Nothing really hurts anymore. I notice my bandages have been changed. “A lot better, thanks. By the way, why doesn’t Kat wear a mask?”

“I don’t have to.” She answers. “No one knows about me...well, except you now.”

I frown. “And you’re not worried I’ll tell someone?”

“You can’t.” She says, rather sternly. Her eyes change, darkening on me. “You’re an illegal experiment by Dr. Walters. If the authority finds out about you, you’ll be confined for more testing to see what he did to you. Worst case scenario, you’ll be put down. From what I believe, that’s the last thing you want.”

The shock must be evident on my face because her expression softens and she puts a hand on my shoulder. “If you don’t tell on us, we won’t tell on you. Don’t worry.”

I sigh. There’s nothing I can say in this situation. My hands are tied and these criminals are the only ones I can rely on right now. 

“Well, since you’re better I think it’s best you go.” Kai says, flexing his gloved hands, nodding at Kat. “We got paid yesterday, so you’re free to do whatever.”

“What?” I gasp as I watch them head towards the door, probably off for another mission. “But I don’t—”

“Not my problem.” He calls back, giving me a two-fingered salute before they disappear into the night. I stare after them with my jaw hanging open, dazed by the suddenness.

He’s not serious, is he? Is he really kicking me out without any prior warning? I wrap my arms around myself, trembling as panic kicks in. Dammit, dammit! I knew I shouldn’t have let myself relax. How could I?

Those two are criminals, I’m only here because they were paid to. It’s only right that I go after they’re paid. They haven’t done anything wrong.

But the feeling of betrayal still sinks my stomach. I take a deep breath. Alright, first things first. I grab my old clothes, slipping them back on. It’s tight and uncomfortable and reeks with years of abuse. But it’s black so it’ll allow me to blend in better with the night.

I’ll have to move fast, find a place to stay. I don’t have money so any inns, motels or hotels are out of the question. I’ll have to find a place hidden from sight and where people don’t go to often.

With that in mind, I leave.

The night air is rather cold, leaving me shivering. The rips in my jumpsuit leaves me feeling exposed. I ignore it and begin to run. Now that my strength is back, my speed is much quicker. I jump across rooftops, stopping and hiding every once in a while to listen for anyone following me.

I can never be too careful.

I head towards the darkened part of the city, the slums. Slinking down to an alleyway, it smells of smoke, piss and vomit. I cough involuntarily, the smell reminiscent of my time in the lab. My living conditions were not much better than here. No one cared about my hygiene or health, doing only enough to keep me alive for their next test. There were special occasions where I would be treated better, given solid food rather than pills and switched to a cleaner cell, all because my next test would be highly draining and I was required to have strength to withstand it.

I walk past the slumped figures on the street, faces covered in dark shadows, clothes torn and stained. A fight breaks out nearby, and I turn the other way as quickly as I can.

I come across an old abandoned apartment-like structure. It looks like it’s about to crumble with a touch, the doors and windows boarded up. They are no match for my strength. I pull the wooden boards apart, accidentally breaking the weak door as well, wincing when it crashes onto the floor, kicking up dust. I cover my mouth with my hands, squinting into the dark place and coughing against the dust.

As the dust begins to settle again, I turn and try to pick up the door, putting it back in place as best as I can. Having some form of a door is better than nothing, after all.

Once that’s done—kinda—I step into the building carefully. Water drips down the ceiling, creating a puddle. There are sounds of rats scurrying around. I check the stairs, tapping it with my foot and deciding not to take my chances. I’ll have to stay on the ground floor.

I shiver again, wrapping my arms around myself as I curl up in a corner. It’s even colder in here, but at least I have some sort of roof over my head. I can stay here for a while until I figure out what to do next.

I tuck my knees tight against my chest, resting my face against them and sigh. As bad as things are, I’ll take this over being in the lab any day.

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Escape Mini Masterlist

A/N: Poor Eve. Can’t believe I’m kicking her out so early in the story.

Tags: @ninibears-erigom @boldcrayoncatblog​ @cardtak​ @beetlejopp​

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©kimjongdaely

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[deliriumsdelight7]

Fic meme shamelessly stolen from @amuseoffyre .  These WIPs aren’t gonna procrastinate themselves!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

14 so far.  Desperately fighting off several more until after I finish a few.  You know in the cartoons, when a kid is told to clean their room so they jam everything into the closet and then have to lean against the closet door while it threatens to burst open, revealing their laziness?  That’s me holding off at least 7 WIPs I haven’t started yet.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

490,989.  

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

I mean... all of them are OUaT, but some are crossovers... so I guess three.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

What You’d Thought Lost. etc.: my Rumbelling of The Holiday which I swear I’m gonna finish once the seasonal depression hits!

Tattercloak: Rumbelling of Allerleirauh/Sapsorrow

Fortis Fortuna Adiuvat: Rumbelle Assassin AU set in the John Wick verse

The Language of Flowers: My first ever gift exchange fic.  Enemies to lovers flower shop AU

Masters of Destiny: Dark One Belle fic that I really might need to restart because the ideas just aren’t coming together

5. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Almost always. Sometimes I’m too busy, or I can’t think of anything to say.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Hahahahahaha this implies that I finish things!  Seriously though I’ve only finished two things so far and they both have happy endings.  I’m considering writing a oneshot of the events of The Crocodile from Milah’s POV - specifically the part where she runs away with Hook.  That will probably not be popular with my readers but the idea intrigues me.  That one won’t be happy I guess.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I am Anyelle trash.  Any Bobby character that I can pair with a Belle (with a few obvious exceptions), I want.  So far the craziest one is one I just started, “Finding a Cure.”  It pairs virologist!Belle with Infected!Don.  I’m still trying to figure out how much of the science my STEM-averse butt can get away with making up.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Outright hate?  No.  But in one fic, I really needed a character to do a thing, and I sort of had to force it.  Someone pointed out (maybe not in the nicest way) that my characterization was inconsistent.  Which... yeah, it was.  They made a fair point.  I always criticize writers for making a character do something OOC to force the plot they want to see, and I pretty much did the same thing.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

My smut is mostly straightforward, with the exception of threesome smut in Trinity, my Mad Rumbelle fic.  I’m toying with some spicier ideas, but I really can’t start another WIP til I finish something.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I didn’t even realize this was a thing that could happen, so no.  Before last year I’d never gotten involved in fandom.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I honestly can’t.  I don’t work well with others.  As soon as I have to work with other people, my creativity sort of dries up.

13. What’s your all time favorite ship?

I mean, if we’re going “of all time,” I’ve been an SS/HG shipper for probably 20 years, give or take.  But nothing has inspired me to frantically write the way Rumbelle does.

14. What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Masters of Destiny.  I started that fic without having any idea where it was going, and I’m thoroughly stuck.  I have a few vague ideas of scenes and twists I want to include, but no overarching plot to speak of.  I might start over eventually and come up with a more fitting title.

15. What are your writing strengths?

I’ve been told I write good action scenes.  Which is funny because when I read, I usually glaze over them a bit to get back to the plot.  Maybe that’s the key - keeping them simple so I can get back to the good stuff.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Pretty sure I use the past participle way too much in my writing.  Oh!  And I can’t write fluff to save my life.  Angst always creeps in.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think you need to think about who your audience is and what you’re trying to convey before you decide one way or another.  Are you writing for people who know this language?  Or at least for people who you’re fairly confident will immediately plug it into Google translate?  Cool, you do you.  If not, then I’d say either just write the words translated, or make sure the person isn’t saying anything that’s vital to plot or character development.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

God.  Self-insert Sailor Moon fic back in middle school.  My friend introduced me to the concept of fanfic, which made my nerdy face light up as I realized that I could pair myself with the angsty anime boy of my dreams.

19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I love most of my fics, when Impostor Syndrome isn’t kicking my ass.  They’re made with my own tastes in mind, after all.  If I had to choose, I’d go with Breaking Cycles.  I can’t bring myself to reread what I’ve got so far, because it was the first thing I’d written for fun in about fifteen years, and the prose and dialogue are clumsy.  But it’s close to my heart, and I apparently have a weakness for sad/angry alcoholics in fiction.