#previous master of earth is not getting off this easy

[allyallyorange]

Yunho The Human

AT AU is back with another little story written by @nnnnnnnothingtoseehere

How Yunho ends up in Universe A

Master Post for AT AU

“You should spend more time with Jongho,” his mom says. “Take him somewhere on your day off, like you used to.”

Yunho almost snorted at that, but manages to hold it back. It was too early in the day for another fight with his parents, especially after the previous night.

It had started the same way it always did, with his dad making some off handed comment about what Yunho should be doing with his life but clearly wasn’t.

He hadn’t even tried to hold back the biting response then, and things quickly devolved.

It had made him want to scream because they acted like he should just get over himself and move on with his life, like that was something easy or possible to do.

Yunho didn’t know how to explain to them the way his chest ached all the time, or how hard it was to get out of bed every morning. He knows they would say he should be moving on, especially after so many years.

After all, Jongho was fine. Jongho, who lost his parents. Yunho should be fine; he only lost his best friend, after all. Jongho is more than fine; he seems to be the next Albert Einstein at the age of twelve. He’s bright and smart and good at studying; in other words, everything Yunho isn’t.

It hurts more than Yunho will admit to be surpassed in every single category by a twelve year-old.

“You guys used to be so close,” his mom continues. She is washing dishes at the sink, with her back to Yunho. “He’s been through a lot, you know. It would be a shame if the two of you grew apart now.”

Yunho resists the urge to inform her that he’s been through a lot too, and maybe doesn’t want to spend time with the tiny little prodigy who is better than him in every way, including dealing with grief.

When he doesn’t respond, his mother eventually turns around to look at him.

“Did you hear me, Yunho?”

“Yeah,” Yunho mumbles, dragging his spoon through his cereal. “I heard.”

It’s already going soggy, and Yunho almost feels sorry for the limp bits of cereal floating around. He feels like that most of the time these days.

“You really should take him somewhere,” his mom says in that vaguely hopeful tone that Yunho has come to dread. “Get hot chocolate with him or something. Something fun, to get you both out of the house.”

“Fine,” Yunho is answering before he even realizes what he’s saying. “I’ll ask him.”

The smile his mom gives him just makes him feel worse. She looks so hopeful, like this will actually be the thing that gets Yunho’s life back on track.

He doesn’t bother to correct her. He’ll disappoint her soon enough.

-

Of all places, Jongho wants to go to the library.

Yunho just gapes at his cousin, finally asking what on earth he wants to do at the library.

Jongho rattles off some answer that goes straight over Yunho’s head. The kid is probably researching advanced particle physics for fun, or something similarly nerdy and genius.

“Fine,” Yunho sighs. “Let’s go.”

You could have cut the tension in the car with a knife. Yunho finally turns the radio up, desperate to listen to something other than the constant parade of guilt and self-criticism that makes up his thoughts.

Jongho didn’t say anything, just fidgeting with his gloves in the passenger seat.

He practically bolts out of the car the second Yunho puts it in park, disappearing through the library doors before he can even get fully out of his seat.

Figures. Yunho wouldn’t want to hang out with himself either.

He trails after Jongho, making a vain attempt to stomp some of the melting snow off his shoes before stepping into the library.

Yunho hasn’t been here in ages, and he takes a deep breath on instinct. The smell of books is comforting, and he takes a moment to just soak it in.

Everything is smaller than he remembers, but he’s definitely had several growth spurts since he was last here. The kid sized reading tables look ridiculously small, and Yunho can’t believe he ever fit in the seats.

He would come here with Mingi, mostly during the summer when they were bored. They would sit for hours and read every comic book the library had, until the words spun off the page or they fell asleep.

Yunho shakes his head violently, trying to dislodge the memories. This is why he doesn’t leave the house; they would roam all over town. He can’t go anywhere without being reminded of him.

It takes him way too long to find Jongho. The kid is sitting at one of the tables in the reference section, almost invisible behind a stack of at least five hefty books. Yunho quickly gives up on reading the title of the one in Jongho’s hands when he doesn’t even know what the first word means.

He flops down across the table from Jongho, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He is just opening one of his mobile games when a pointed ‘ahem’ gets his attention.

Jongho is glaring at him from across the table, face scrunched comically.

“What?” Yunho asks, earning a furious hiss from his cousin.

“We’re in the library,” Jongho whispers pointedly. “Talk quietly.”

“My bad,” Yunho mutters, glancing back down at his phone.

“This is a library,” Jongho repeats in a biting whisper. “Find a book to read.”

Yunho blinks at him for a long moment, weighing out the amount of energy it would take to actually fight him on this.

You’re supposed to be bonding with him, his mom's voice whispers in his head. Fighting would definitely not do that.

“Fine,” he grits out. “I’ll get a book.”

He stands up, pushing his chair away from the table with exaggerated care. Jongho watches him seriously, only looking back down at his book when Yunho actually begins to look at the nearby shelves.

Nothing in this section is remotely interesting, and Yunho wanders aimlessly in search of something decent. He almost doesn’t stop when he passes an end display of fairy tales, but something about the bright covers has his feet slowing almost on his own.

He knows he’s too old for fairy tales at this point. He knows better than most that happy endings are pure fiction; the real world is much worse.

The book at the top of the display looks different from the rest, and he picks it up on whim. Flipping it open, he expects bright pictures and ornate pages, all accompanying a predictably bland story about princes and princesses and happily ever afters.

It quickly becomes apparent that the book in his hands is anything but that. It doesn’t even look like it’s a fairy tale, really. It seems more like a guide to being a hero, and Yunho finds himself reading more and more while just standing there.

He knows it’s dumb, and that he should find some actually helpful book probably called something like “How To Fix Your Life For Dummies.” But deep down, he knows he just wants to think about something other than his shitty life. Some weird book that takes itself way too seriously may be a cheap bit of escapism, but Jongho clearly won’t let him burn a couple of hours on his phone.

Tucking the book under his arm, Yunho returns to where he left Jongho. The kid hasn’t moved, but has switched books. There’s no way he read it that fast, but Yunho honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

Doing his best to ignore his cousin, Yunho sits back down and opens up the book again. It’s not a difficult book to read, and he is soon comfortably lost in a vaguely nonsensical chapter about how to kiss a princess.

The book is simple, but it’s just enough to keep him from thinking about anything else. It’s honestly nice to sit here and escape for a while, and before long he’s more than halfway through. He has to skip some sections that seem to be written in entirely different languages, as well as a few that are just covered in symbols and diagrams that don’t make any sense.

Yunho is just about to turn the page when he realizes the pages of the book look like they’re sparking, somehow. He pauses, watching as what look like little white sparks jump off the page, bouncing harmlessly off his clothes and the table.

He is just beginning to open his mouth to ask Jongho if he’s losing his mind when the sparks begin to pour off the book, increasing in brightness.

Yunho had been leaning the book against the edge of the table, and he quickly pushes it fully on the table. That doesn’t stop the sparks, and as he watches they begin to flow upwards until there’s a whole bunch of them floating a few inches over the book.

This is it, Yunho thinks distantly. It’s the mental break you were waiting for. He’s finally going crazy; it took years but he’s made it.

The sparks have solidified into a mass of light, hovering over the book. The light stretches as Yunho stares, widening and flattening until it’s as large as a decently sized tv. Some part of his brain wonders if anyone else is seeing this or if it’s just him.

The light has been white up until now, but the center of the mass begins to darken. The effect reminds Yunho of pouring water on ice, how it will make some parts of the ice transparent and more glass-like.

He leans forward, trying to get a better look. The darkness has now spread to cover most of the mass, leaving only a rim of light around the edges. It reminds Yunho of every portal he’s ever seen in superhero movies and comic books.

He almost falls out of his chair when he realizes there’s a person looking back at him from the other side. Their features aren’t clear, still obscured by the surface of the portal.

Yunho watches in horrified fascination as a hand reaches through the portal, the surface dragging for a moment before breaking around their fingers. The hand grabs the edge of the portal like it’s solid and Yunho stares because normal people don’t have blue skin.

He looks up just in time to see the person’s other hand pulling the surface aside enough for their head to poke through, dragging it out of the way.

The person looks to be a guy, around Yunho’s age. He looks pretty normal, with dark hair and sharp eyes that survey the library quickly.

You would almost think he’s human if it wasn’t for the bright blue skin and pointy ears clearly on display because of his haircut.

Yunho is tempted to look around to check if anyone else is seeing this alien portal with a real life alien reaching out of it, but he doesn't. He’s sure that if he as much as blinks this will all disappear.

“Have you seen a guy with white hair?” the alien asks, looking at Yunho. “He’s just a bit taller than me, and pretty skinny?”

Yunho gapes at him for a long moment, trying to remember how to speak.

“U-um, no,” he finally stammers.

The alien’s face tugs into a frown at that, and he lets out a slight sigh.

“Fair enough,” he admits, beginning to pull away from the portal. The second he does, it begins to close, the dark part fading first.

“Hey wait,” Yunho calls out, reaching for the portal without thinking about it.

He jolts the second he touches it, feeling like he was just shocked. He is opening his mouth to say ouch or yell or ask what on earth is going on but he quickly finds he can’t. The feeling of vertigo rushes up to catch him, and Yunho feels like he’s being yanked forward through the portal.

He lands hard on his ass, voice coming back in the middle of a yell. He quickly stops yelling, way too surprised for that.

The blue guy from before is standing in front of him, looking just as surprised and confused as Yunho feels. They seem to be in some kind of room, but everything from the walls to the floor are perfectly black. It’s unsettling, making him feel like he’s standing in an open void somehow.

“Where the hell are we?” Yunho asks. “What is going on? Who are you?”

The guy just stares at him, eyes wide as they dart around Yunho’s face quickly.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

The sound of a third voice startles both of them, and Yunho scrambles to his feet as the blue guy whips around.

He almost falls again because there is what could only be described as a column of light in front of him. He squints at it, belatedly realizing that it’s not column-shaped at all. It has a head and arms, and clearly a voice.

Yunho could have sworn he didn’t have that much to drink last night. This has to be a dream, a hallucination, something. He’s been watching too many dumb superhero movies lately and his subconscious is finally deciding to take revenge.

“U-um, sort of?” the blue guy stammers. “I mean, I found him but that’s not what I was looking for.”

He sounds just as confused as Yunho knows he looks, but he’s thankful the weird light person isn’t talking to him. The blue guy is weird, but he at least has a face.

“That’s great,” the light person says easily. “I hope you succeed in your journey.”

They raise a hand, and Yunho feels that same sense of vertigo rising up to meet him. This time it feels like he’s falling backwards, the whole sensation churning his stomach violently.

At least he lands on his feet this time.

The room around him thankfully looks relatively normal after the freaky void place, worn wood under his feet and making up the walls.

He looks around slowly, trying to figure out what exactly happened.

He seems to be in a treehouse of some kind, various branches crisscrossing through the walls and floor. The whole place is fairly small, but it may just look that way because it’s absolutely full of stuff.

Yunho gapes at the eclectic assortment of weapons, tech, and unidentifiable objects scattered across the floor and various surfaces of the room. None of this makes any sense, and he only ends up with more questions when his gaze lands on the two other people in the room with him.

One of them is the alien guy from before, looking just as blue. He is staring at a normal looking guy, who is in turn staring at Yunho.

They stare at each other for a long moment before everyone starts talking at the same time.

“Is this him?” the normal guy asks, clearly talking to the blue alien dude.

“No, I have no idea who this is,” the blue guy responds.

It’s a little tricky to actually make out what he’s saying because Yunho is also talking.

“What the hell is going on?” he demands. “Who are you guys? What is this place?”

They all continue to talk over each other for several minutes before the normal looking guy holds up both hands.

“Stop,” he says loudly. “We can’t all talk at once.”

Yunho shuts his mouth reluctantly, knowing that he does make a good point.

The guy turns to face him more fully, giving Yunho a chance to get a better look at him. He certainly looks normal, with dark hair. He does have blond undersides, peaking through the upper half of his hair

He also has a plant growing out of the top of his head. It’s a perfectly normal plant, with leaves and everything. Yunho gapes at it, not quite able to believe his eyes.

“You ended up in our headquarters, so you’re going to answer our questions,” the guy continues briskly. “Sit down.”

“Um, where?” Yunho asks, glancing around the crammed treehouse.

The blue alien dude moves forward to shove a few weapons and piles of metal parts off a surface, eventually revealing a couch under all the stuff. He gestures to it, and Yunho obediently sinks down.

“Right,” the normal guy says, putting his hands on his hips. “Have you ever seen this guy?”

He bends down to pick up a rolled up piece of paper, unrolling it so Yunho can see.

The paper has a drawing of someone on it, but Yunho can’t make out anything actually identifiable. The drawing looks like it was done by a two year old, and not an artistically inclined two year old.

“...no,” Yunho says slowly. “No I haven't.”

“Are you sure?” the guy asks again. “He has white hair? Seems pretty powerful?”

“Nope,” Yunho repeats, shaking his head.

“Think he’s lying?” the guy asks, turning to look at the blue alien.

He just shrugs, looking as confused as Yunho feels.

“You know I can hear you,” Yunho points out, not particularly liking being talked about like he’s not in the room.

“Hush,” the guy tells him. “We’re the ones interrogating you.”

Yunho doesn’t point out that this is the most informal interrogation he’s ever seen. He’s sitting on their couch, for crying out loud. There’s nothing to keep him here, and Yunho really doubts either of them could actually restrain him if necessary. The blue guy is pretty muscular, but Yunho has at least four inches on him.

The other two continue to talk, at least having the decency to lower their voices so Yunho can’t hear them as easily.

“Ok fine,” the normal guy finally says. “If you’re sure.”

The blue alien nods, turning back to face Yunho.

“Hi,” he says with a smile that makes his eyes disappear. “We didn’t exactly start off on the right foot. My name is San.”

Yunho blinks at him, definitely not expecting a formal introduction.

“Hey,” he says after a moment. “I’m Yunho.”

“Nice to meet you, Yunho,” San tells him.

He pauses for a moment, clearly waiting for the other guy to say something. When he doesn’t, San elbows him in the side.

“Oh right,” he says quickly. “I’m Wooyoung.”

Yunho nods, murmuring some kind of acknowledgement.

“Where are we?” he asks, gesturing vaguely around the room.

Wooyoung and San look at each other for a long moment, clearly having some kind of nonverbal discussion.

“Probably better to just show him,” San says.

Wooyoung nods, making the plant on his head sway slightly.

“C’mon then,” he says, beckoning Yunho.

Yunho gets up off the couch, following a little ways behind as San and Wooyoung cross the cluttered floor, heading for what appears to be a trapdoor set in the floor.

Wooyoung tugs it open, revealing a ladder leading down to the ground.

Yunho doesn’t see how showing him the outside of their treehouse will answer his question at all, but he doesn’t point that out. He eyes the ladder nervously, but it seems to hold Wooyoung’s weight easily as he practically slides down the rungs.

He follows a bit slower, thankful that San waits until he’s almost at the bottom before stepping down too.

Wooyoung is waiting at the base of the ladder, and he meets Yunho’s eyes.

Instead of saying anything, he just gestures to the landscape around them.

Yunho is opening his mouth to ask a question, but finds that he can’t think of any. The tree the treehouse is in seems to be the only thing for miles, standing tall on the top of a slight hill. The land is gently rolling, fields of grass extending for what feels like forever.

A distant mountain range completes the feeling of stepping into a painting, smudges of snow decorating the peaks. Yunho gapes at the scene, awed to some extent by the natural beauty, but much more dumbfounded by the lack of anything modern.

There’s nothing; no telephone poles, no roads, no cars. There aren’t even any buildings that look remotely normal. Yunho is definitely excluding what might be a village off in the distance; he is very sure none of it will look like it’s supposed to.

This isn’t home, he thinks distantly. It can’t be; he’s very sure there isn’t anywhere on the planet this remote and untouched.

That’s not even considering Wooyoung, who has a plant growing out of his head, and San, who is blue.

“Where is this?” he asks slowly, turning to look at Wooyoung.

He grins proudly, puffing out his chest a bit.

“You’re in our world,” he says with a grin. “Pretty cool, isn’t it?”

[crystalbeetle888]

Voyage into the Unknown Pt.1

Master List

Pt.1 - Pt.2

The cold wind nips at the back of my neck, as I trudge through the thick brambles whacking them out of my way with my machete. Dark clouds roll over the mountain tops, spitting down a freezing shower. I flip the hood of my poncho over my soaked head. My legs burn from hours of walking through the wild, my hands swollen from constant swaying, my lungs heavy from the frigid air. Relief washes over me as the sight of the wooden cabin finally breaks through the tree line. The howling wind almost knocks me over as I march up the steps and through the heavy front door, slamming it shut behind me. I exhale heavily, the warm air embraces me gently, the sudden halt of the deafening wind in my ears is a shocking contrast to the silent cabin.

I slip my day bag off by the door and make my way towards the bathroom, stripping off as I go, leaving a trail of sweat and rain soaked clothes behind me. Hopping into the shower the burning hot water washes the dirt of the day away, soothing my aching muscles. I grasp the soap and begin scrubbing the filth off. I gently run my hand over my left shoulder, the smooth ridged feel of the scarred skin no longer holds any feeling in it. I follow the mark down the length of my arm finishing at my wrist, the skin looks pink and agitated by the hot water. I open my right hand, branded with the same angry scarring on my palm. 

I moan in annoyance finally hopping out of the shower and wrapping myself with a towel. I exit the bathroom and begin to dress in my thick nightwear. Suddenly, the cabin walls begin to shake loudly as the wind rages outside “Fucking hell” I mutter to myself. The wood creaks and groans a little too loudly for my comfort. Worried, I pick up my phone, no signal. “Shit” I toss the useless thing into my pack, it clatters loudly against the small handgun I've not so subtly hidden.

“I guess this getaway trip is going to be longer than expected” I mutter to myself in annoyance “The gallery is going to kill me”  Another loud gust of wind shakes the cabin more violently than before. The ground shakes and the ceiling rumbles, picture frames on the hearth rattle and fall onto the ground shattering loudly. The bricks around the fireplace crack, dust falls from the rafters. “Shit! If the fucking weather doesn't kill me first!” I yell to myself over the roaring noise. Throwing my belongings haphazardly into my bag I shrug on my coat and bolt outside, making a dash towards the car. I only take a few steps across the grass before the wind throws me off my feet and across the clearing. I hug my body close to the muddy ground and scream in fear as the winds tries to take me again “FUCK!”. My screams are silent in comparison to the booming noise surrounding me. A faint chanting travels on the winds ‘What the shit?’ I think to myself as the chanting gets louder and louder until a man's voice is clearly heard above the belting winds. The foreign chanting strikes my body with anxiety “Fuck this fucking Blair Witch bullshit” I cry out, as I attempt to stumble towards the car again. A strong blast of wind picks me up, throwing me high up into the air before suddenly dropping off. My heart stops as I begin to plummet towards the earth “FFFUUUUUCCKKK” I scream before hitting the ground with a crack, instantly losing consciousness.

The first thing I feel is the burning ache across my back shooting up into my skull. I groan, opening my eyes slowly to the sun beaming down on my face. “Oh my god” I whisper airily cradling my neck as I sit up. Looking around at my surroundings, wood and brick debris lay scattered across the clearing, the whole cabin, including the foundations, have been blown away. I sigh in exhaust, still clenching my backpack tightly. The feeling of frustration and exhaustion from the previous day's travels overwhelms me, I let out some shaky breaths. “Easy girl, you're alright” I breathe “Keep it together”. I begin to break out into a sweat as the midday sun beats down on my miserable sitting form, still clad in my thick flannel pajamas. Huffing in frustration I shrug my jacket off and stand shakily. Life just seems to be throwing everything it can at me lately. Trudging towards the forest line I notice something eerie, the trees are a different now, the fucking trees are a different species! ‘How far did that wind throw me?’ I think to myself. 

After changing into the previous days smelly damp clothes I begin to wander through the woods, hoping to find someone who can help. After what felt like hours of plodding through the creepy unfamiliar forest I finally stumbled across a dirt road. To turn left? Or to turn right? That is the question. I turn right “right is right” I mutter to no one. Fatigue rakes my body as I continue down my path, sookie that I had skipped dinner the night before. Eventually the sound of baaing animals breaks through the silence and relief washes over me. Shakily passing over the hill, I gaze out over a beautiful green valley. The houses are round and built into the hillside, adorned with lush gardens of flowers and fruit. As the sun begins to set, the sky is painted with vibrant pinks and purple, and glowing lights sprinkle the valley like stars across the night sky. “Oh my god” I almost cry in relief and happiness, completely delirious from hunger. 

Floppily jogging down the hill and along the dirt path, I pass many homely houses. ‘I don't think I've ever seen houses built like this before’ I let my thoughts drift ‘Maybe they're some sort of commune’ I gaze in passing at the arched windows, and colourful round wooden doors that are unusually short ‘Maybe they’re a commune of little people?’ It doesn’t make any sense but neither does an entire cabin and car, flying away and leaving little to no trace. My patience is waning as it becomes the second night without food. Throwing caution, and pride, to the wind, I open the closest little picket fence and tiredly stomp up the stone steps towards a large green circular door. Knocking three times, I hurriedly rake my fingers through my hair and straighten out my jacket and shirt, anxiously waiting. The door opens with a loud creak, and behind it stands a surprised little man with pointy ears and wavy brown hair. ‘Definitely not a little person’ I think to myself.

“Good evening?” he says warily, straightening out his patchwork dressing gown. 

“G’day, look this is super random but I think I’m lost” I swallow, the hard lump in my throat “And I haven't eaten since yesterday, and I don't know where I am, and I’m really fucking tired” I choke out, tears begin to well in my eyes as the stress from it all finally hits me. The mans eyes widen in shock, and my cheeks burn hot in embarrassment from unloading onto this rather awkward looking strange.  The man shifts his weight uncomfortably “Well there's no need to cry Miss..?" He trails off, "Y/N" I sniffle, " Well Y/N, I'm Bilbo Baggins, at your service,” he bows “I suppose you can come inside, just till we’ll get you sorted out” he wags his finger, clearly flustered by my emotional outburst. The man steps aside and opens the door wide, I duck under the door frame and enter. 

The entrance room glows from the candle lit chandelier, the air is warm and inviting. I hug my arms around myself tightly, shuffling out of his way as he shuts the door and potters past me “Come on Miss this way”.

I stammer uncertainly “Um should I take my shoes off?” I notice his comically large and oddly hairy feet are bare. He stops and spins around in surprise “Oh certainly, thank you” he smiles surprised. “You can store them behind the door”. Plopping myself on the floor I take my tan hiking boots off and stuff my socks inside, cringing at the smell and stiffness of my toes. “I’ve never seen such craftsmanship before, you must have a unique cobbler” Bilbo quips. I stuff them neatly behind the door “Ah yeah they’re alright” I stand brushing myself off, smiling at him awkwardly.  He pats his hands on his sides like an awkward penguin before spinning round. “This way” He guides me through curved corridors into the kitchen. “Sit please” He pulls out the smallish chair for me, the matching table size makes it difficult to sit politely. Judging by Bilbo's proper gentleman nature he probably values good manners. I ponder to myself, shuffling uncomfortably trying to straighten my posture. Bilbo treads back and forth across the kitchen, setting a pan on the hot plate over the fire, “I bought some fresh fish today, I hope that's alright?” He turns to look at me. My stomach growling loudly at the thought, I nod, cheeks heating  “That’d be great thank you”. He nods back, before turning round again. Bilbo places two whole fish, along with some vegetables into the hot pan before covering it with a heavy metal lid. The smell of cooking fish permeates through the room making my mouth water. I continue to watch the strange little man as he sorts out two tea cups and saucers “Chamomile or lavender?” he says over his shoulder “Chamomile please” He nods, continuing to make the pot. He rests the teapot on a hook over the fire before sitting down across from me.

“If it’s not too rude, may I ask where you’ve come from? You wear very peculiar clothes” My eyes widen, not knowing how to respond to that, I glance down at my dirty looking clothes. I was clad in a khaki green, slim fitting shirt, and a pair of long black leggings with my denim jacket tied around my waist. It didn't seem very ‘peculiar’ to me, but I suppose if I lived on a mediaeval commune filled with little gnome people, I’d find it strange too. 

“Well, I come from a small outback town, though I moved around a lot when I was younger” He nods in understanding, hand rubbing his chin in thought “And where is the outback?” I stop, realizing the stark differences between our cultures “It means like, rural, or country” Bilbo ahs in actual understanding this time “Still, quite strange clothes for country folk” He states “Though I don’t travel much myself, so I suppose the race of man may have changed beyond my knowledge” He nods to himself “Yes that must be it” he trails off before the loud whistle of the kettle interrupts our conversation. Bilbo hops up and busies himself in the kitchen again, before coming back with the hot food and drink, placing it down on the table along with some ornate silverware and napkins. “Well, dig in”. Bilbo and I chatted idly over the delicious hot meal, it was exactly what I needed to regain my strength. 

I sigh in relief, patting my now stuffed belly “That was amazing, thank you” I say gratefully. Bilbo nods, staking the dirty dishes in a pile “Well you came at the right time honestly, I’ve just restocked my pantry” He says placing the dirty dishes in the sink. I rise from my spot “Here I can help with that” I offer. “Oh no no no, you rest now Miss, I’ll handle it, you should bathe though” I frown, raising my eyebrow at him “I stink that bad huh?” He freezes, mouth agape and eyes wide, “Ah” he stutters. A smile stretches across my face “I’m just taking the piss, I know I stink” I laugh, as relief clearly washes over him, he lets out a gentle chuckle. “Ah yes well, the guest room is just through this hall, then left through to the very end, then left again, it should have everything you need” He says. I grab my bag from next to my foot, “Thank you again Bilbo, really, It’s very generous of you”. He smiles kindly “Yes well, what kind of hobbit would I be if I were to leave a lady in distress, Hmm?” I smile in confusion but nodded along ‘Hobbit, what the fuck does that mean?’. As he turns back to the dishes I walk down the hall following his directions “Taking the piss” I hear him mutter to himself, I chuckle quietly and continue on my way.

Opening the door to the guest room a gentle light emits from the dwindling fire on the left wall, across from it lays a medium sized bed, probably a queen or king size for him but it’ll do. A copper metal bath sits tucked into the far left corner. Dumping may bag on the bed I stride over and begin running the bath. ‘Hot water, thank fuck’ I think running my hand under the stream. Stripping down naked, I hop slowly into the tub, skin burning against the hot water. Despite enjoying the outdoors I can only tolerate so much of it for so long. I turn the faucet off and sink into the water until only my face peeks out. I hum in content before spying a supply of ornate bottles sitting on a shelf next to the tub. Picking one up I glanced at the label tied around it ‘Cleansing Ash’ it reads.

‘Pretty self explanatory’ I pour some of the contents out onto my palm. A floral smelling powder falls out, I hum curiously rubbing it into my scalp and across my body. The smell of roses and lavender permeates through the small room. Lines of dirty water run down my body as I scrub the filth away. I continue methodically scrubbing and rinsing until the water running off me is clear, and the water is cold.

Flopping out the tub, water splashing onto the floor, I wrap myself in one of the fluffy towels before heading over to my bag and pulling out the last of my clean clothes. A plain oversized shirt and hiking shorts. I throw them on before crawling into the warm bed. I snuggle tiredly under the covers ‘I’m sure Bilbo won't mind if I rest my eyes for a bit’ I think before drifting off into a deep sleep.

Master List

Pt.1 - Pt.2

[ms-scarletwings]

Getting around finally to my rewatch of Tak: The Hideous New Girl, and something’s snagged a wrinkle in my head.

When I was younger, I really could not understand what was up with the first half or so of Tak’s introduction, and I honestly chalked up that entire “dating” montage between her and Zim as filler to pad a few laughs and minutes over until the big reveal. Like, she already had about all of the preparations together that she needed to get started on her revenge planet-stuffing plot.

She’d even been on Earth for a good while already, setting up and maintaining that weenie stand front, gathering resources, investing in a solid disguise, etc. if all she needed to do left was get Zim out of the way, and she had managed to track him down… I didn’t see the sense it made in her going the extra mile to enroll in the Skool rather than confront him at his base directly. I especially did not see the sense in her stalling her big master plan in order or read poetry or blow off an entire day humoring his deluded assumptions.

Well, I literally just realized- She had never actually met Zim face to face before the events of this episode. And the guy himself is probably something of a terrifying legend to the rest of his kind, for the context of his mission and banishment. This is the pipsqueak who single handedly ruined Operation Impending Doom I’s take off and recklessly massacred the previous batch of elite Invaders in the process. Said pipsqueak was also capable of knocking half the entire power grid of a planet out over some fun dip, had the balls to reject his own banishment, and still successfully convinced the Tallest somehow to return his job title.

Tak would obviously be aware of every bit of this. That’s why she went to the Skool first, and not alone straight into the lair of the most destructive and unpredictable Irken to currently exist. She was sizing up her opponent on neutral grounds, where neither of them would be able to break into an all-out, cover blowing fight yet.

The poem she read was as thinly veiled a threat/challenge as she could pass off in front of humans, but Zim was still supposed to get the intended message… if only he did not miss the painfully obvious reference to the Armada’s logo she made a part of her disguise.

And the next immediate thing she’s caught doing after pelting Zim with a set of bbq ribs?

I can vividly imagine how easy the lead up to that conversation probably was, too. Dib’s desperately liable to spill everything to the first soul that seems remotely interested in a single word he has to say when it comes to Zim. So, between that and Zim reacting to her first blow so obliviously, she already learned everything she needed to know- mostly, what an absolute fucking joke her potential rival turned out to be. From there really, it looks like it turned into a game of screwing around with him while she still had time to kill- maybe just out of amused curiosity to see how long Zim would try to keep the valentines antics up, maybe just for the sick kicks of inflicting more petty cruelty on him,

Maybe a little mix of both, actually.

[multiverse-imagines]

Vashtember (A Writer's Hijacking) Day 2: Knives

Okay, so I cheated a tiny bit. Its technically about @aidakhar 's dad!Knives au. But how can I resist Knives being a doting father?

"Azrael, that's the third Toothbrush this month." Knives frowned as he looked at the small disgruntled boy who presented him with yet another mangled toothbrush.

"My teeth are just too sharp, Papa." Azrael moped.

"I see that. I'll have to talk to Dr. Conrad about this…" Knives mused to himself, as he comforted his son, "For now, why don't we just keep doing our best until we can figure something out, okay? It's not very efficient as far as the lifespans of toothbrushes go, but it'll keep your teeth clean in the meantime."

"Fine." Azrael huffed as he stalked off, going to his room. Knives was frustrated as well. It was important to maintain oral cleanliness. How was his child supposed to do so when his teeth were ripping through each toothbrush at such a rapid pace? He pondered these things as he too stalked down the hall towards Dr. Conrad's lab.

"Ah, Master Knives. What brings you around this time?" Conrad asked, sitting at his desk, a beaker of coffee still steaming close by.

"Azrael just gave me his third decimated toothbrush this month. I need something different than this archaic stick." Knives complained to Conrad.

"Well, the evolution of the toothbrush hasn't really changed since the Earth's 1800's… they even used them in the ancient Egyptian era. It's one of those "If it's not broke, don't fix it" kinds of things." Conrad explained.

"Then we have to make something those stupid humans couldn't." Knives snidely replied.

"Of course, Sir. When I was a child back on Earth, they did have these chewable toothbrushes, but I fear the boy will just chew through them."

"What were they made of? Could we improve upon whatever material they used? Make them reusable, or recyclable?"

"They were just silicone, but, again, I fear he would just rip through Silicone like a shark eating a seal." Conrad lamented, taking a sip from his beaker of coffee, "I could improve it to withstand the psi of his bite strength strength. I can probably project 170 psi at the most, so I can make a silicone that withstands up to 200… Can you bring The Boy in to run some tests? He might enjoy it, since he'll get to bite stuff." Conrad began to write calculations and equations down on a piece of paper before asking the question.

"Yeah, I can bring him around, but… in the morning. He needs his sleep." Knives said, noting the time. Conrad chuckled, realizing what a doting father his fearsome boss had become. It made Conrad miss the daughter he'd wronged so long ago as he sipped his coffee once more.

"Of course, Sir. That will give me time to experiment with the silicone before I can run my tests for the prototype. This is a welcome distraction. I was beginning to feel burnt out on my previous experiments." Conrad shrugged.

"Wonderful. I know you won't disappoint us, Doctor. I shall return with Azrael in the morning." Knives nodded before leaving Conrad to his work.

***

When Knives and Azrael returned the next morning, Conrad was still hard at work.

"What is your progress, Doctor?" Knives asked as He reminded Azrael to be mindful of his surroundings, as not to collide with anything within the lab.

"Ah, Master Knives. You're just in time. I just finished with the silicone that can withstand 200 psi. I still want an average bite test from him. I may be able to adjust the longevity of the silicone, and we'll be able to recycle them, combine them together to make new ones. Silicone is surprisingly easy to make on this planet, since silicone is made from sillica particles in sand. We live on a planet covered in the stuff!" Conrad said triumphantly, pulling a lever for dramatic affect as a compression machine squished a rubbery piece of silicone. A little machine attached to it beeped, calculating the integrity of the small marble, and the he lifted the lever, to show the marble still intact. Conrad took the marble to a nearby sink, washing it thoroughly, before handing it to Azrael.

"Here, chew on this for me. Please do not swallow it." Conrad instructed. Azrael paused before taking the little marble from Conrad's hand, and popping it into his mouth. He munched on it, his eyes brightening a little at the bouncy resistance the marble gave.

"Should I try to rip it apart with my teeth?" Azrael asked as he chewed.

"Give it your best shot, kid." Conrad nodded, giving Azrael permission to destroy his prototype in the name of science. After a minute or two, Azrael spit the ball back into Conrad's gloved hand. Conrad gave the silicone ball study under the microscope, investigating the small tears made by Azrael's teeth.

"Was it hard to chew on, Azrael?" Conrad asked as he gazed into the microscope.

"Not really. It was like… chewing gum." Azrael explained. Conrad nodded, standing from the microscope.

"Okay. I figured Independants had a harder bite force than humans, but I didn't expect harder than 200 psi, damn. Good thing Silicone can go up to 1,500 psi when using the right formula." Conrad sighed. "My goal is to create a silicone that won't tear under his bite force, but is still easy to chew on." Conrad explained. He picked up a small device that had a rubber mouthpiece attached. After sterilizing the piece, he asked Azrael to place it in his mouth, and bite down as hard as he could. Conrad frowned at the results.

"Hm, 220. Yep, gotta make a stronger silicone. Alright, I should have the prototype ready by tomorrow morning." Conrad concluded, writing some notes. Knives and Azrael went about their day as normal.

***

"Okay, I think I've got it this time. Try this one." Conrad handed Azrael a small ball with little silicone bristles, sterilized of course. The middle was hollow for toothpaste to fit inside. Azrael chewed on the ball, purposefully trying to mangle it with his teeth. After a few minutes, he spit the ball out as before, and after a study by Conrad, the item was complete.

"Yeah, this new chewable toothbrush should last you two months, or about sixty teeth cleanings. I'll have more made, and ready to go within the week. They're easy to recycle, so I'll be able to make a sustainable stock of them." Conrad was nearly giddy at his success, "I recommend using this with supervision due to the potential choking hazard, but that's just a precaution." He noted to Knives, from one father to another.

"I'll be sure to do so. We can brush our teeth together, then." Knives nodded, internally excited to have a new style of cleaning for his son.

[mysticaltora8276]

I’ve just like to say I don’t hate Russell T. Davies writing (well mostly there are plenty of elements that annoy me but that’s true for any writer so we’ll leave it at that. )but I don’t know the 60th anniversary specials just come across as very self congratulatory about his run and it really annoys me. Not to mention that for a 60th anniversary like ignoring things that came before it. No bringing in a character from the First Doctor’s run or an obscure character comic book run does not make a 60th anniversary. There were just some awkward bits of dialogue, and like I’ve said before this obsession of Russell to basically make the Doctor is mundane as possible instead of focusing on the fact that that they are a traveler and an alien and taking people to extraordinary places instead of glorifying the mundane. Again glorifying the mundane is not a problem, but I must ask why would you take someone so extraordinary and try to make him normal? With Moffat when the Doctor was in a normal setting, they didn’t stifle who the Doctor was. Same with Chibnall. The Doctor was still a unique entity and kind of stuck out a mundane settings, but that was the charm. The Doctor is an oddity that comes and takes you to extraordinary places not someone who desperately wants to be normal. The Doctor was and is an eccentric and proud of it. The only time it made sense for the Doctor to want mundanity was Nine and that was only because he’d been through a war but even still the Doctor traveled and were fine with being an eccentric. The Flux was a traumatic moment yes, but remember this is the series in which the Master destroyed just a quarter of the universe…. By accident. Yes, they should address it, but not by clipping the Doctor’s wings. Maybe it’s just me, but it was across as basically saying “are you eccentric? Do you like to travel? Well, then for recovery instead of you know, allowing the person to still be your own unique person you have to basically conform to what I the writer think is necessary even if goes against your character, and take away all your uniqueness.” It just feels a little bit stifling to me. I mean they could’ve had him just taking short trips to planets and taking it easy there from place to place and then coming back instead of constantly staying in one place which may I remind you they hated in previous incarnations?

Edit: Three was exiled on Earth and hated every single second of it. He liked helping but the fact he was stuck there drove him crazy. Eleven retired to Earth twice. Once due to the Ponds being dramatically taken away from him and once Clara came in he jumped at the chance. And he literally locked himself away. The second time was when he was trying figure out about Clara and once he got it he was off once more without a second thought. And that’s not even counting the other time he stayed on a planet when he defended Christmas for a hundred years so the people wouldn’t be wiped out. Twelve stayed on Earth for seventy years to watch over Missy but as soon as Bill comes he books it because he is going stir crazy. He even makes it clear that he’s barely keeping it together. So yeah the Doctor doesn’t do well with being tied down.

And that’s not getting into the whole conversation about family….excuse me the Ponds and the Fam would like a word with you. And their home is the TARDIS. Their fav planet is the Earth yes but ultimately it’s the TARDIS traveling that’s home.

Edit: Oh yeah as for “I have a family now” remark….Excuse me does the name Susan Foreman mean anything?! Susan smack your grandfather he’s being a moron again!

[yes-i-write-fanfiction]

Yeah, you captured my thoughts exactly on the previous Tarn/Smokescreen ask! Plus, Smokescreen will also disobey Optimus if his judgement screams at him to do otherwise, something that Tarn would never do because Megatron knows better than everyone. (See the base explosion in the end of season two.)

Point two is that Tarn cloaks himself in Decepticon ideology but doesn't really live by it or learn anything good from it. Smokescreen is devoted to the Autobot cause but also lives by the ideals behind it. Basically, Tarn is devoted to his cause because of Megatron, but Smokescreen is devoted to Optimus because he embodies everything good about the cause and so takes his leader's advice on improving to heart. It's why the two had different levels of trust placed in by their leaders.

Anywho, I was hoping you could write Smokey calling out Tarn and getting under his skin, thereby starting Tarn's hatred of this new enemy.

Getting cornered was rarely a good thing. Getting cornered by a decepticon was never a good thing. Getting cornered by Tarn was absolutely a real no good, absolutely terrible thing.

With his armor a dark purple shade, the leader of the DJD almost blended into the night, only his blazing red optics standing out like two stars. And despite the mask, Smokescreen just knew that the bastard was smirking. What he was so happy about, he didn't know, but it was bound to be something bad.

It wasn't the first time they'd crossed paths, however, for the first time it was just the two of them. Every time they met, they both had someone from their team with them. First time Smokescreen had seen Tarn he had been accompanied by that weird smelter guy with the freaky tongue. Man, just remembering it made his plating crawl. It had only been Optimus presence at the time that had kept him from totally freaking out.

Now, he was alone. This was supposed to be a sneaky mission after all. While the rest of the team attracted the attention elsewhere, Smokescreen were supposed to sneak inside, get what they needed and then get out. Easy peasy.

They just hadn't prepared for the fact that Tarn would be there.

"Now now, there's no need to be frightened," Tarn crooned, his deep voice making the air vibrate, "I just want to talk after all."

Unable to help himself, Smokescreen barked out a short, nervous laugh. "Talking. I can do talking. In fact, I love to talk, I talk almost all the time. Ratchet keeps telling me to shut up but I just can't help myself, I'm a guy that has a lot to say-"

"How about," Tarn interrupted, "I talk first, and you listen, hm?" Shutting his mouth, Smokescreen could do nothing but nod while secretly sending out a distress ping to his team. They had to know that something had gone wrong.

Taking on a slightly more relaxed pose, Tarn gestured at his captive audience off one. "I've read about you, you know? Sure, I've read about all the autobots on Earth but you? Your file specifically caught my attention."

"Neat," was all Smokescreen managed to squeak out between squeezed lips.

"You are young. Inexperienced but undoubtedly talented. You wouldn't have made it this far otherwise. Good intuition. A quick thinker. An adapter. But that wasn't what interested me. Can you guess what it was?"

Suddenly thrown a question, Smokescreen scrambled for an aswer that wouldn't get him killed.

"My great sense of humor?"

Nailed it.

Tarn chuckled, shaking his head. "Charming. But no. It was your loyalty, Smokescreen. You see, anyone can kill. Anyone can die for a cause. But only a select few have what it takes to be the perfect warrior. The perfect weapon. The first and most vital characteristic is loyalty. A weapon shouldn't turn on their master after all. Do you understand what I'm talking about, Smokescreen?"

Finally, his team responded to his emergency ping. A short messange, "we're on our way", and Smokescreen almost felt like he could shed tears of relief. But he was not yet out of danger. He had to keep Tarn occupied until backup arrived.

"I-I'm not sure. I mean, yeah, I trust in Optimus but what about it? What does it have to do with anything?"

Tarn clicked his tongue. "Like I said before; you're young. You have yet to reach your full potential and oh, what potential I see in you. And I just know, if you gave me the chance, I could shape you into something splendid."

Tarn's voice trembled at the last couple of words, as if in reverence of whatever fantasy he had playing out in his head. There was a brief, faraway look in his optics before he shook his head, breaking out of whatever trance he had found himself in. Once again, his optics met Smokescreen's and this time they stayed there.

"Your potential is wasted with the autobots, young one," he said in an almost mournful voice. "But I can make it right. You just have to follow me."

It took a couple of seconds for Smokescreen to say anything. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because, my dear Smokescreen," Tarn spoke as he offered his hand, "you and I are the same."

There was this sudden, bitter taste in Smokescreen's mouth and it made him want to purge. His mind, previously muddled by fear, now turned strikingly clear. Tarn was no longer a boogeyman or a terrifying phantom of evil.

He was just an idiot.

"I," Smokescreen spat out, "am nothing like you. I fight because I care about Cybertron, about my friends. I am loyal to Optimus because I believe in what he says, not because it's him saying it but because what he's saying is good and right. You," he points a finger at Tarn, "fight because you are so obsessed with Megatron that you don't care what he says or does as long as it's him doing it. You don't care about justice, or whatever the DJD is supposed to be, you just want Megatron to pay attention to you. Weapon? Yeah, you're right, you are one. But I am a mech and I'll be dead in the ground before I turn into someone even resembling what you are."

As Smokescreen finished talking, silence fell upon the two bots. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. Four seconds.

Tarn heaved a massive sigh as he let his head roll back and stared into the ceiling. "Such a shame, really. And here I thought you had at least some brains." Rolling his shoulders, Tarn suddenly flexed his fists and took on a more aggressive stance. A low grow emitted from his chest. "You call yourself a mech. Let's see if you can die like one."

Preparing his weapons, Smokescreen flashed a toothy grin at the decepticon. "Ready when you are."

[gaytotaldrama]

[Request] Alejandro has to explain to his important diplomat father why he frenched a pineapple on international tv, got kicked in the kiwis (also on international tv), then vanished off the face of the earth for a good year.

also on my ao3!

Practically the second Alejandro emerges from the humiliating send-off that had been the Flush of Shame, his dad's calling him. On a hotel phone. On a hotel phone in Miami, of all the God-forsaken places in the world. It's a testament to the Burromuerto name that it'd been so easy for his father to find him - but where was all that during the year Alejandro's spent inside a robot suit?!

And the reception is horrible, too. Naturalmente.

"So." His father's voice crackles through the line in his usual clipped Spanish, formal and curt. "You're alive, then."

"Well, yes," Alejandro returns, furrowing his brows. "Did you think I was dead?"

A non-committal grunt. "The volcano in Hawaii burnt you to a crisp."

"Yes, but then - "

"Then you failed to win the million dollars. Twice now, if I'm not mistaken."

Alejandro rolls his eyes, thankful his father can't see him do it. "Why should it matter to you? You've got your own money."

"It doesn't. What matters is my own blood soiling the family name on international television for the entire world to see."

"Soil - ? I've been one of Total Drama's most ambitious competitors!" he exclaims, irked at the erasure. "I was the master schemer of the third season! You saw!"

"I didn't watch," his father says, which, oh. Alejandro hadn't been aware of that. It's expected, no doubt about it, but it's different, hearing its confirmation. "Your brothers have kept me updated on all of your shortcomings."

"Oh, have they, now," Alejandro seethes.

"You allowed yourself to become much too cocky. Toying with all the girls' hearts, so certain you'd win. Then you let that little Asian witch outsmart you. Kicking you while your guard was down. What in God's name made you fail that way, Alejandro?" 

"Heather is not a witch," he fumes back. "Only I get to call her that. And so what if she won? She didn't get to keep the money, either, not after the eruption."

His father scoffs. "You think that's what matters? No. What matters is the humiliation you've caused us all, Alejandro."

"You already said that," Alejandro deadpans. "If you're going to ruthlessly insult me, at least have the originality not to be repetitive."

"Oh, so you're giving me cheek now, hm?" His father sounds pissed, which is exactly what Alejandro was going for. "Two pathetic stints on a damn reality show where you french kiss a pineapple and you think you're king of the world! Why I ever bothered to have a third son is lost on me, I must admit."

"I've been asking that same question for years."

A snort. "Well, if you think you're welcome at Christmas, you are gravely mistaken!!

"That's what you say," Alejandro points out. "Good luck getting that past Mom." And then he hangs up, jamming the phone back in its charging port, so his father won't have the satisfaction of getting in the last word.

He lays back on the scratchy pillow, folding his arms behind his head and thinking, contemplating, looking up at the mildewy ceiling. He wishes he could say that his father's words stopped hurting him a long time ago, but the hollowness in his heart tells him otherwise. Twenty years of trying to impress the man. Two decades of failure.

His dear mamá will stick up for him, he knows, but even so. It may be a good idea to throw together a different plan for the winter holidays. And also, you know. Find a more permanent place to stay.

An idea strikes, nearly wiping the previous conversation from his brain entirely. He reaches again for the telephone, entering the digits carefully with the calloused pad of his thumb. Smirking, he presses Call. He knew he still remembered Heather's number...

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day Six - Celebration @sapphicmicrofics

April Daily Series - 576 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Dorcas worked full-time as a legal assistant, she had a Bachelor of Laws degree, and was actively studying for the Solicitor’s exam. The last thing that she needed was a distraction from her lofty goals and the obscene amount of work required to attain them. She didn’t have time to lose herself in that devilish grin and those ocean blue eyes.

Stop it! That’s not helping.

She tore her gaze from the photos and shook her head clear. Dorcas needed Marlene like she needed a hole in her head. Both would destroy everything she’d built for herself here in London. When she finished her law program, Dorcas decided to forgo a celebration in favour of continuing her dogged pursuit of a solicitor’s title. Her parents were proud of her and she was proud of herself. That’s all she needed.

Nothing would impede her progress now. Not even a fit, blonde hockey player with muscular thighs, curvy hips, and arms that were deceptively strong. Definitely not.

“What on earth are you thinking about?” Pandora asked, tilting her head to the side curiously. “You look overwhelmed all of a sudden.”

Dorcas dismissed her with a wave of her hand. “Nothing. Lost in my thoughts.”

“Thoughts about Marlene?”

“No!” Dorcas stood up and resumed her pacing. She needed to settle herself and the repetitive movement helped. Walking stimulated blood circulation to the brain and she needed all the help she could get, at the moment.

Pandora followed her path with her eyes, but remained curled up on Dorcas’s bed. She never simply sat on a piece of furniture. That would be entirely too easy. No, of course not. Pandora insisted on draping herself over furniture like a Greek goddess instead.

“Come out for drinks with us tonight.”

Dorcas shook her head. “Alcohol and agitation are a terrible combination.”

“You need to relax, Dorcas.”

“The last thing that I need to do with her around is to relax,” Dorcas retorted, pointing at the closed bedroom door. “I will not allow myself to backslide now. Not after everything I went through last time.”

Pandora hummed thoughtfully, then shrugged. “Fine, but you should know that she’s crashing on our sofa for the next few days. You can’t avoid her forever.”

“I thought Lily was crashing on the sofa.”

With a derisive snort, Pandora shook her head. “Do you know how long it's been since I had a girlfriend? Too long. She’s sleeping in here with me.”

Dorcas nearly tripped over her own feet. “What?”

“We have a two bedroom flat, Dorcas. Until Reg gives in to James and moves out, we’ll have to share the master.”

“All three of us?”

Pandora’s smile didn’t waiver as she nodded slowly. “Yes, it should be fun. Don’t you think so?”

“Pandora, if you shag her while I’m in here, I will–”

“That will not be a problem.”

Dorcas eyed her warily. “It won’t?”

“No, because Lily is a screamer and she’d be mortified if you heard her.”

Pandora’s expression was completely unbothered and her voice matter-of-fact. As if she hadn’t just given Dorcas a glimpse of her and her girlfriend’s physical relationship entirely unprompted. Then again, this wasn’t new. Pandora always was a little too open about her sex life.

“Yes, well…let’s make that a new house rule then,” Dorcas said, biting back the urge to tell her off.

What was I going to say? How dare you have mind-blowing sex with your girlfriend? I am losing the plot.

Next Part>>>

[tokiro07]

Undead Unluck Ch.177 thoughts

[Sick in the Head]

(Contents: Rule lore speculation, nostalgic gushing)

Undead Unluck really is the new One Piece, cus we're nearly 200 chapters in and we're still getting basic worldbuilding lore. We first heard the term "Master Rules" in ch.97 (it took me a shamefully long time to find that page too, I skimmed the entirety of 101-132 before realizing it was right after Ruin's introduction), and while I think we all kind of guessed that the Master Rules were the ones that God intended to shape the final product, the revelation that they're meant to be absolutes really changes the game, doesn't it?

Long-time followers may recall my worry about what would happen to the world if Spoil were to be neutralized because it would throw off the nutrient cycle, but then I chalked it up to the world updating and compensating for the loss

This is also what I thought happened in ch.124 when Andy got hit with an Unluck blast of magma after having killed UMA Magma; Andy questioned it, Fuuko said not to worry about it, but I could never get past it, and I always justified it as a different liquified substance in the Earth's mantle to allow the tectonic plates to move or whatever other purposes magma has, but...nope! It would seem that Magma was a Master Rule (albeit outside of the top 10, cus he went down pretty easy), so its neutralization didn't affect the state of the world itself

This also means that the Seasons are explicitly not Master Rules, which I speculated would be the case a long time ago since there was a quest specific to their neutralization, implying that they were not Rules that Sun deemed necessary for their perfect world. I do wonder if perhaps this time the Seasons aside from Autumn are Master Rules, though, since there must not be any intention of introducing Revolution and initiating Ragnarok this time (doing so would only destroy the world, and this is the last loop, so that would defeat the purpose)

Some of you may recall that I actually once suggested that Autumn was intended to be a part of the final world specifically because it was the only Season that Sun didn't ask for the neutralization of, and then expressed shock that Autumn was set to be neutralized in 101 as that contradicted that earlier evidence, so I think it's pretty fun to learn here that the Master Rules, despite appearing on that tablet, aren't permanently set in stone between loops. Like in Yugioh, the Master Rules are updated along with the particularly big updates to the meta (the introductions of new card types there, the reset of the loop here), presumably based on the events of the previous loops

One question does haunt me here, though: if the Master Rules are chosen after the previous Ragnarok, and they existed before the Quests started...does that mean that Juiz was lying about the function of the tablet after all? I suspected she did for a while since the tablet was only ever mentioned by her as a way to justify how she knew about Ragnarok before it occurred, but now we're learning that some of the Master Rules are completely unrelated to the success or failure of the quests? Are any of the 101 related to it? Are only the first 10 prior to it, since Apocalypse says they're the ones added in "the initial stage"? It's a subtle inconsistency, and one that doesn't really change much of anything, but until Tozuka comes right out and explains the exact procedure, it's going to be nagging at the back of my mind

It's ALSO interesting that Sick remembers Juiz; we never got any indication that the previous UMAs could remember anything between loops, but Sick refers to Juiz directly. Is this a quirk of the top 10 Master Rules, all Master Rules, or the final loop? I hope Tozuka answers all of these questions in the volume releases if not the series proper, I live for this kind of thing

Oh, then there's the fact that Sick looks human. Not even in a subtle, human-shaped monster kinda way like Seal, but like actually human. Again, a Master Rule trait, or a Sick trait specifically? That big X across his chest is clearly meant to denote that he's the 10th Master Rule, so do all of the top 10s have a Roman numeral? Is Move a Master Rule, or are his Roman numerals meant to convey that dice are used to determine how far you move in games?

Despite the fact that Apocalypse told us that the Master Rules are different each time, it should be noted that there is plenty of room for overlap; Ruin told us pretty plainly that Sick was a Master Rule last time by saying that there was meaning in his illness, as there are no mistakes in the Master Rules

I'm willing to bet that Death is always the first Master Rule chosen, as otherwise, everyone would be passing through the loops since they would be incapable of dying. Since they can die, that must mean Death exists and is chosen for one of the permanent slots very early, possibly even before the initiation of the loop itself

To talk about the chapter itself, I adore the color page and the final page; they're such celebrations of the story so far and so perfectly call back to the beginning of the series to get us excited for the anime. Medaka Box did the same thing for season 2, bringing back the Front Six in their original outfits to advertise their upcoming anime appearance, and this is clearly doing the same thing. Seeing Void in his armor, Gina with her hat, Shen and Mui with their gloves, it's all so nostalgic!

And let's not forget: THAT'S OUR ISSHIN, BABY!!! Probably. I guess it's possible that XII is still kicking after all this time, but I'm decently sure that's Haruka, and I'm excited to see what's different about her this time, if anything. She should only be about 16 this time, so she should have a few differences to her build or demeanor, I would think

Finally, not to beat a dead horse, but...GOD DAMN, LEILA! "[The best thing in life would be] the three of us being together always"??? You can't tell me this ain't poly!!! You CAN'T (forgive the pun) rip this away from me, Tozuka!!!

I'm pretty shocked that I'm not getting much to say on Rip unlocking Unrepair, though. Like...the scene itself was pretty underwhelming, to be honest, I guess mostly because everyone in context knew more or less what was going to happen, so there wasn't a ton of room for surprise or suspense. I guess I thought that Rip was going to get Unrepair while fighting Sick, not awkwardly recreating the previous circumstances, though I guess that's just how God works, huh? Hopefully I'll get to dive more into RIp's character when he gets Blade Runner, which weirdly wasn't a part of this chapter considering how much focus it got last week

I'm really looking forward to the Sick fight, and since it's starting in Phase 2, I'm willing to bet that this is going to be our second Phase 3 fight as well. I have no idea what that will entail, but I'm looking forward to it, almost as much as I'm looking forward to the anime in just a couple of days!!!

[ninjastar107]

'Caught Inbetween' - A protoman-centered MMC fic

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [PART 5]

Just as soon as Wily's plan was set in motion, it was over. Megaman made quick work of every robot master, blasting through Wily's alien illusion with ease. Now the doctor was working with Light, who so graciously forgave him and invited him to help work on a grand project. Friendship ran deeper than grudges it seemed, or perhaps Light was naive. It would explain where Rock got it from.

Blues occupied his time with regular visits to Lalinde's lab and trips out through the countryside, occasionally checking in on Wily who kept giving him off-planet transport coordinates and telling him to 'wait for my signal'. Tempo was recovering for the most part. Lalinde commented on how she was getting back to normal, which happened to be a level of energy Blues wasn't expecting Tempo to have. She became peppy, hands on, and almost too excited for her own good with brief lapses of coldness that were becoming less and less frequent. It seems that she developed a new response to high places as well, to which Blues apologized after witnessing her freeze up on a viewing tower. Blues had accompanied her and Lalinde on a few expeditions, acting more as morale support than anything else. Half the time she and Lalinde would begin talking intricacies of historic and geological phenomenon, stuff that Blues had no real background on but listened regardless. It was in such an expedition that the two found out that Blues wasn't unarmed as he had previously demonstrated. A loose stalactite was evaporated by just one shot before it could hit the ground and ruin a precipitation-formed crystal lattice, shocking both of them from their fixated thoughts. Being unable to explain, he left.

It was the last time Blues saw them, promising to himself that he would come back once his debt was paid off.

--

"Breakman, it's your time to shine. I need you to follow Megaman into space and slow him down," Wily gripped his shoulders, "I need more time to put the finishing touches on this plan." Breakman folded his arms but nodded. Of course this was all a ploy, just like the last time. "That it?" "Mmmm well, we'll see," he stroked his mustache, "you have the coordinates still? I need you to transport to Magnetman's planet, he's going there next. Keep following him after until I tell you to stop, too." "Whatever you say, Wily." Breakman's 'enthusiasm' oozed before beaming away. Interplanetary transport took much longer than anywhere on Earth. What normally was a few second gap was now minutes. When he arrived, he scrambled to a hiding spot. It had been awhile since he saw Rock in action. He had viewed his previous endeavors in his downtime, studying and dissecting it. For the most part, Megaman moved and fought through the mining site just the same. One new thing was a newfound skill of slide-dashing, a new variable Breakman didn't have time to consider. He watched Megaman climb down the ladder to the next chamber, to which Breakman followed with a whistled tune. "Who's there?" Megaman readied his megabuster. The robot before him said nothing, charging his own buster and pouncing. The two danced around the chamber, firing and missing and firing again. Neither were trying to hit each other, aiming a bit too high or a bit too low. Finally Breakman landed the first hit squarely on Megamans chest. The robot flinched and staggered before firing back and missing. Breakman did it again with more confidence this time, "If you can't defeat me, you don't deserve to take down Magnetman." Megaman gritted his teeth, "If that's how it has to be!" The next few shots were almost too accurate, staggering the robot master with ease. Breakman slumped, fighting to stand up against the deep fluctuations in his power. He huffed a 'Not bad, but it won't be as easy next time', before blowing open the way down and warping away. Breakman followed him through the next few planets, appearing in some to fight in between periods of rest. Megaman's glare became cocky and almost playful as they met on. Breakman made it more difficult but not without a few taunts and a few words of encouragement, something he didn't expect but welcomed. It was at Geminiman's planet that they encountered each other again. After this would be a gauntlet, and it would be the last opportunity they had to banter. Megaman readied his buster with a smile, "Another duel, Breakman?" Breakman stood atop the port and contemplated. He wasn't happy that Megaman was calling him that, it was a title but not something he felt true to himself. He was named that with the sole purpose of breaking Megaman in half, but it wasn't what his true purpose was. He was still trying to figure it out, but this certainly wasn't it. "Breakman?" Megaman lowered his blaster. The robot master shook his head. "Breakman was ordered to stall you so that things could get finished. I don't know how much I agree with that now. Good luck down there, Rock, Breakman will meet again for one last duel."

He caught a glimpse of shock from the blue bomber as he warped away.

--

If he wasn't Breakman, then who was he? A civilian droid modified to be a weapon with no other purpose than to just be. It was wrong and right, a deeply troubling thought that meant he could be whatever he wanted. A freedom every human has, caught in the middle of the logic in every machine. As he stared at Megaman, a blue mirror of himself in some sort of way, he mulled over his next move. "This is it, Breakman's final battle. No holding back." Megaman frowned, trying to think his way through those words. "I don't want to destroy you." "I'm not giving you a choice." Breakman fired a direct hit to Mega's head, and then a second one to his chest for good measure. Megaman yelped and slid, rolling as more beams trailed after. He fired back, the shots reflecting off the shield with ease. Breakman peaked around it as he aimed, retreating after every blast and jumping out of the way. There was no banter, no taunting. Breakman fired without restraint, and soon enough Megaman followed suit. He stood and aimed, squeezing an eye shut as he followed Breakman's movements. Without a second thought, he fired a direct hit to Breakman's helmet, shattering its lower portion. He slumped, retreating behind his shield, only to reemerge with a smirk. "Nice shot." A wave of relief moved over him, but he kept his guard up, "You too." "You've gotten more accurate since our last encounter, Rock." He stood up, leaning on the shield as a crutch. "Well, you defeated Breakman. Now you'll know who I really am." Blues watched the more refined robot lower his buster, inquisitive to what he meant. In a lot of ways he saw himself in Rock: A son to Light, a civilian bot turned weapon, a good sense of justice, all coated in a newer sleeker paint. A sibling, a replacement, a crutch, a hero. In some ways he was jealous, but in others he was proud. "Wily gave me that name because he wanted me to break you. He wanted me to distract you too, he wanted Breakman to distract you. He revitalized me and so I owed him for that," He swung his shield onto his back, "but now Breakman is defeated, and I owe him nothing. I am the first Robot master, I am Protoman." "Protoman…" Megaman blinked, letting his hand return to normal, "Wily put you up to this? But why?" he asked himself. He folded his arms with a smile as he watched Rock piece it together, "Until we meet again, Megaman."

[cinemastyles-blog]

Summary: This was a request by @/madxxstyles on Wattpad - “Can you do a ceo Harry?? You've worked for him for a while but he started developing feelings!”

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, semi public/ office sex, unprotected sex, oral (both), hair pulling, slight angry Harry, filth

Master

∘₊✧── 𝑒𝓃𝒿𝑜𝓎 ──✧₊∘

“Thank you so, so much.” Harry says as he places his hands on his chest, “I couldn’t have done this..” he pauses and holds his arm up, pointing to the sign on the wall, “Without all of you.”

I smile as Harry continues his speech, my eyes gazing over the soft glow the lights cause him to have.

I’ve been Harry’s assistant for three years now but it hasn’t been easy. Harry is the sweetest, most down to earth person I’ve ever worked for, but I have feelings.

That’s why it hasn’t been easy.

Harry walks off the stage and over to me, “How was that?” His lips pull into a smirk, “Too much?”

I shake my head, “No, it was perfect.”

He smiles and raises his eyebrows, “Dinner?”

I’m caught off guard for a moment before he’s talking about dinner with Moore and Joseph.

“Yeah, yes. Dinner with Mr. Moore and Mr. Joseph is tonight.” I gather my words quickly and let out a small sigh, “Sorry, it’s hot in here.” I lie to get the attention off of my anxious demeanor.

“Let’s go to the car then, yeah?” He lays a hand on my back as he leads me outside. I take a deep breathe of the fresh, cool air and walk up to the car. Harry’s hand grabs the handle before mine does, “Allow me.”

He smiles and I mumble a quick “thank you” before I slip in. He shuts the door and I use the quick few seconds to compose myself before he gets in and sits next to me.

“So the speech wasn’t too much?” He asks as the car starts moving.

I shake my head and look at him, “Not at all.”

He looks back at me and my heart start thumping harder, they way he’s looking at me- should I kiss him? Does he want to kiss me?

He smiles and nods his head slightly, “Good. That’s good.”

My phone rings and I jump slightly as I pick it up quickly, “It’s Mr. Moore’s assistant.” I press the green bubble, “Hello, y/n speaking.”

I can feel Harry’s eyes on me as I nod my head while listening to the woman, “Right.” I let out a slightly frustrated sigh, “Okay. Yep. That works. Thank you.”

“What was the sigh for?” Harry asks turning towards me, his elbow on the top of the seat, “What’s got you all frustrated?”

I let out a sigh and smile as I shake my head, “They canceled dinner, something about ‘idiots in the office’ I guess.” I shrug, “I don’t know.”

He leans back and pats his knees with his hands, “Look like it’s just you and I for dinner, yeah?”

My heart skips a beat, I’ve had dinner with Harry before, but I never fail to be anxious and make a fool of myself.

“Alright.” I smile.

——

“I really couldn’t have done this without you, y/n. You really kept me grounded this whole time.” Harry lays his napkin on the table and grabs his wine glass.

I smile, “Yeah. I know how stressful it can be.”

He looks down at his glass and his eyes move back up to mine as he takes a sip, “I was going mad, trying to keep everything together but you..” he extends a finger, “You we’re calm, cool and well collected.”

I laugh slightly, “Well, I guess I have my previous bosses to thank for that. They definitely weren’t anything like you.”

He raises his eyebrows, “Really?”

I look at him and gasp quietly, “I.. um. That’s not a bad thing, Harry. Not at all. Sorry, that was Um- I should have-“

He cuts me off, “No. no. I know, love. You’re fine. Relax.”

I take a deep breathe and gulp my wine.

“You know..” Harry taps the table lightly with his finger, “I’ve had this..” he takes a deep breathe and shakes his head with a slight laugh, “No. no.”

I pause and set my glass down, “Go ahead.” I say desperately hoping he’s about to spill his secret love for me. I’m sure as hell not doing that first.

He shakes his head and glances up at me, a smile playing with his lips, “I don’t.. I don’t want you to quit.”

“Quit? Why would I quit?” I look at him confused.

He sighs and looks at me, “okay. Fine. You’ve convinced me.”

I stare at him, waiting for him to speak.

“You’re the best assistant I’ve ever had, y/n.” He licks his lips and tilts his head, “The first assistant I’ve ever fell for.”

His words make me sit up straight and I let out a relieved sigh, “Oh god, Harry. I thought you were going to say something bad.”

He chuckles, “Oh god no.”

“You’re the first boss I ever fell for.” My eyes slowly meet his and he smiles, “Yeah?” I nod, “Oh yeah.”

He shrugs, “So I guess this is our first date, huh?”

“I guess it is.” I smile and clink my wine glass against his as he holds it up.

“You know..” he leans back and rests his arm on the back of the booth, “This might be too soon, but there’s something I’ve wanted to do for a while now..”

“What’s that, Harry?”

He leans in and motions for me to do the same, so I do.

"Bend you over my desk, lift that pretty little skirt up, and fuck the shit out of you.”

I can feel my face got hotter by the second and I clear my throat, “What are we still doing here then?”

He bites his lip and nods, “Exactly my thoughts.” He pulls out his wallet and lays two one hundred dollar bills on the table, “Come on.”

I stand up and he takes my hand, quickly leading us out of the building.

“After you.” He smiles as he motions for me to get in. I smile, “Thank you.”

My confidence level just grew off the charts.

Harry gets in and shuts the door, “Office.” He says before turning towards me. He pulls me to him and wraps and arm around my waist. His lips crash onto mine as his other hand rests on my cheek.

I place my hands on his neck and fall deep into the kiss.

He tilts his head back and I whimper as the loss of his lips. He chuckles, “This has to be a secret, okay love? Can’t have people thinking I’m giving you any special treatment.”

“You got it, boss.” I smirk before leaning into kiss him again. He pulls me closer and squeezes my ass with his hand. I move so I’m on top of him, grinding my hips down onto him.

He moans lowly and takes my bottom lip between his teeth. I let out a moan and he smiles, my lip falling from his bite, “You like that?”

I lean back and smile, “You have a lot to learn about me, Mr. Styles.”

He sighs and shakes his head, “Fuck yeah I do.”

He pulls me back into him, raising his hips to grind onto me. I run my hands through his hair tug slightly which causes him to moan in return.

I lean back and raise my eyebrows. He smirks, “You have a lot to learn about me Miss Y/L/N.”

“Fuck yeah I do.” I smirk and we continue making out until we reach the office.

“Okay. Okay. We’re here. There will be people in here, so we’re going to my office to talk about a potential new project.” He smiles up at me and winks.

I fix his hair and nod, “Yes sir.”

His grip on my hips tightens, “I love when you say that. Every time you say that to me or makes me want to throw you down and..” he groans slightly and kisses me hard, “Fuck, okay. Come on.”

He gets out of the car and moves over to let me out. I wish I could just grab his hand but the backlash I would face, what Harry would face, isn’t worth it.

I follow him inside and we step onto the elevator. As soon as the doors close he’s pinning me against the wall, his hands gripping my body like he never wants to let me go.

There’s a ding and Harry quickly steps back and shoves his hands into his pockets as the doors open. I quickly pull out my phone and click a random app and scroll.

“Evening Styles.”

“Evening, John.”

I look up and bite my lip to hide my smile as Harry looks over at me.

“Are you still up for golf on Saturday morning? Henry and Steve are going to join for a few rounds.” John says turning towards Harry.

Harry smiles, “Of course, yeah. I wouldn’t miss it.” John nods and looks at the elevator as if dings, “Great. See you Saturday.” He turns to me and smiles, “Y/N.”

“John.” I smile and watch as he exits the elevator. The doors close and Harry pulls me to him, “You’re so fucking sexy when you’re professional.”

I smile and lean up to kiss him.

The doors open and Harry walks off with me close behind him and the office is practically full, which is weird for a Thursday evening.

“What the fuck.” Harry mumbles lowly.

“Follow my lead and act mad.” I nod as he looks down at me and his face softens, “Okay.”

“Now, put on your resting bitch face.”

He gives me a weird look, “I do-“

“Yes you do.” I lean in slightly and whisper lowly, “It’s hot as fuck.”

He smirks and looks around, scrunching his nose and runs a hand through his hair, “Okay.”

I start to walk through the office.

“Hello Mr. Styles I-“

I put my hand up, “Mr. Styles isn’t take any inquiries right now.”

“Dinner didn’t go good?”

I shake my head, “Correct.”

I continue walking, knowing Harry is watching me walk with power.

“Y/N I-“

“Not now.” I walk past the group and turn the corner, “Fucking hell.” I mumble with a sigh. I walk up to the people outside of Harry’s office, “Hi, yeah. Mr. Styles isn’t having any meetings right now.”

“And why not?” The man asks with a chuckle.

I smiles and tilt my head, “Because he isn’t. You can leave your name and contact information down with the front desk and he or I will contact you with a time that suits his schedule, okay?”

His facial expression reads that he’s not used to a woman telling him what happens.

“Excuse me. Mr. Styles and I have business proposals to work on.” I push past him and open the office door. Harry walks in and I walk in after him, shutting the door quickly. I turn the lock and watch as the shadows on the other side of the frosted glass disperse.

“I don’t think he likes being told what to do. Especially by a woman.” I laugh slightly and set my stuff down. Harry grabs my arm and pulls me to him, “You can tell me to do anything and I’ll do it. No questions asked.”

I smirk, “yeah?

He nods, “oh yeah.” He kisses me and slides his his hand up to my throat, “Just for you, though.”

I tilt my head back slightly, “Even better.”

His fingers tighten around my throat and I let out a quiet moan. Harry leans in and kisses my face gently, “You like it rough, don’t you?”

“Yes sir.”

He groans and walks us over to his desk, “You’re such a tease.” He sets me down on his neck and quickly places his hand back on my throat. He kisses along my jaw line and my hands grip his belt with my fingers sliding in between that and his waist.

“Go ahead.” He whispers into my ear, “Do anything you want.”

I undo his belt and pants and slip my hand over his already hard cock. He gasps and moans lowly as I give him a squeeze.

“Already so hard for me.” I open my eyes to look at him. He bites his lip as his head tilts, “Mhm.” I slide my hand up and slip it between his skin and boxers. He leans in and rests his forehead on mine, “Fuck.”

I slide a hand up to lay on the back of his neck and pull him out of his boxers, pumping my hand slowly and sliding my thumb over his leaking head.

He brings his lips to mine and slides his hand to my hair, grabbing a tight fistful. He tilts my head back and I whimper.

“That okay?”

I nod, “You don’t have to be easy with me, Harry.”

He smirks and tilts my head back more, “If anything hurts just tap me or tell me, please.”

I smile, “I will.” I go back to stroking him as he kisses down my neck. His lips attaching to certain spots that make my pussy wetter each time he does it.

He lets go of my neck and slides his hand to my boobs, unbuttoning my shirt to expose more. His lips find themselves on my collarbone, kissing downward until a pounding on the door causes up to jump.

I smile because Harry’s doesn’t instinct is to cover me up, even though his cock is on full display.

“What?” He shouts loudly over my shoulder.

“Mr. Styles, if I could ju-“

“I’m not having any meetings right now.” Harry clenches his jaw and I bite my lip.

“Please, Mr. St-“

Harry yells like I’ve only ever seen him yell one time before, “Fuck, I said no!”

I jump slightly and his hand immediately goes to my back, “Sorry.” He whispers looking down at me. I smile and shake my head, “It’s okay,”

He smiles slightly and looks back at the door, his jaw clenching again. He waits a few moments before looking down at me, “You’d think those dumbasses would get the fucking hint.”

“They’re stupid.” I lean in and laugh, “They can talk to you tomorrow.” I pull him in by his jacket, “You’re already in a very important meeting.”

“That I am.” He kisses me then goes back to kissing my chest. His lips trail along the top of my bra and his hands slides down to my knees, parting my legs. He pushes my skirt up slightly and presses his fingers against my soaked panties, “Fuck, I have you that turned on?”

“Every time I see you.” I bite my lip, “I have to take care of myself every night I get home.”

I can’t believe I just admitted that.

“Yeah? How so?” His fingers press against my clit, “what do you think of?”

He’s into it, okay.

I tilt my head back and sigh, “Sometimes.. with my fingers. Sometimes a vibrator and it’s more of who I think of and what I want them to do to me.”

His eyebrows raise and his lips part as I reach down to grab his cock.

“I think of my boss.” I continue, “I think of my boss tossing me onto his desk and making me cum multiple times with mouth, fingers and cock.”

I bite my lip and gasp as his fingers quickly slip onto the other side of my panties and push between the folds of my soaked cunt.

“I think of my assistant.” His voice grows deeper, “Almost every night, I think of her in my bed with me, her hand and mouth around my cock, doing such a good job sucking me off.”

I moan at his words and my eyes roll back as his fingers curl inside of me, “Fuck, Harry.”

“I’m going to feel that pussy here, then I’m taking you home and showing you a really good time.” He kneels down and slides me to the edge of the desk. He pushes my legs further apart and holds my panties to the side as his tongue moves up and down my slit.

My hand flies to the back of his head and I lean back, my arm holding my weight up. He moans against me and I gasp, “Shit.”

He groans against me, pulling me closer by my hips, almost suffocating himself with my body.

I lay my leg over his shoulder, pushing him closer as my body prepares for my first orgasm. I moan and arch my back. My hips roll forward as my body tenses up then relaxes. Harry leans back and licks his lips, “There’s one.”

“There’s one.” I repeat as I try to catch my breathe. Harry stands up and leans down, kissing me gently.

I bite his lower lip and tug gently as I tilt my head back, “My turn.”

He smirks and helps me down off the desk. I drop to my knees and pull his pants and boxers the rest of the way down. I lick my lips and pull my lower lip between my teeth as I look up at him. His hands grip the desk as he prepares himself to be in my throat.

“Go on, love. Whenever you’re ready.”

I tilt my head and the words roll off my tongue with ease, “I want you to fuck my throat.”

His eyes widen slightly before a smirk grows on his lips, “You go ahead and get aquatinted first.” He winks, “Then I’ll use that throat of yours, yeah?”

I nod and wrap a hand around his cock, leaning in to suck the tip gently. I slowly work my way down him and he falls back against the desk with a grunt, “Fuck.”

He gently places a hand on the back of my head before he pushes my head all the way down, causing me to gag around him.

“Just tap me I need to stop.” He breathes out, “Shit.” He works my head up and down his cock for a little before he pulls me off, “M’gonna cum and I don’t want to yet.”

He brings me to my feet and bends me over the desk, “Can’t wait to feel that pussy of yours, sweetheart.”

I whimper at his words and gasp when he circles my soaked folds with the tip of his cock. He slowly pushes in, groaning as he feels me wrapped right around his cock.

I grasp the edges of the desk, my eyes rolling back as his hips meet my ass.

“Harry.” I gasp out, almost completely out of breathe.

His fingers dig into my hips but his thumbs rub my skin, “You okay?”

I nod my head, “Y-yeah, I just..” I bite my lip and clench around him, “I need you to move.”

He pulls out and thrusts back in, quickly getting into the perfect rhythm. His cock hitting the spot I need him to hit most, over and over again.

He groans and pulls my hips back to meet his, “Y/N, fuck.”

My name comes out of his mouth over and over, getting more whiney each time and it’s the most hottest fucking thing.

Already feeling like I can cum again, I throw my head back and Harry tangles his fingers in my hair, holding it there. He leans down and kisses my forehead. My eyes meet his and we stare at each other until I feel my orgasm rip through me.

The knot in my stomach snaps and I go to scream but his hand quickly covers my mouth, “Shh, baby.”

I moan into his hand and claw at the desk as my eyes roll back.

“You look beautiful cumming on my cock, darling.”

I whimper and open my eyes to meet his. He smiles before his face scrunches up slightly, “Fuck, I’m go-“

He pulls out and I quickly drop to my knees, taking his cock between my lips. Stings of cum coat my cheeks and throat. He moans as I clean him up and I pop off, looking up at him.

He pinches my chin between his fingers and shakes his head, “I’ve had some good times with you, but this was honestly the best.” He helps me to my feet, “Honestly, I don’t give a fuck what the office says, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands off of you anymore.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and press my chest to his, “You can do what ever you want to me, Sir.”

He chuckles and let’s out a sigh, “Alright, whatever you say, Miss assistant.” He winks at me and steps back to redress himself, “Let’s go so I can figure out your body more.”

——

Thank you so much for this request! If anyone has any ideas, please send them my way!  

Tag list: @daddybuckethat @hsonlyangelxo @harrysluvv @tbsloneely @haroldsbabymama @victoria-styles

if you would like to be added to the tag list click here Tag List Doc

[noodleblade]

Chance and Unlikely Circumstance 4/6

(chapter centered around the episode The Human Factor)

Previous Part AO3 Link

Smokescreen watched the slow, steady tick of his chronometer in absolute silence. At night, along the dusty stretch of highway, there was not a single sound save for the occasional gust of wind kicking up the arid sand. It hissed as it dragged along his frame, leaving microscopic scratches in his finish. 

“Premium grade liquid wax would help sustain the integrity of your finish; the skinjobs have mastered that, at least. You could do with a buff or two. Maybe a repaint. White is awfully boring. Have you considered orange? Maybe just continue on with the blue.”

Smokescreen let out a heavy exvent as the words echoed in his processor. 

Three nights had passed since K.O.’s abrupt departure. There had been no sign of the other mech since. In truth, not an exorbitant amount of time had passed, but after meeting up every night cycle for nearly an entire Earth month, the sudden break in their routine was…jolting. 

As much as Smokescreen had thought he’d prepare himself for K.O.’s eventual farewell, it did little to soften the blow of his absence. Perhaps he had fooled himself into thinking their arrangement could last forever. Perhaps he had grown too reliant on the easy, comfortable friendship that had formed. Perhaps he had been mistaken in thinking the feeling was mutual.

Smokescreen pushed those thoughts away forcefully. He shouldn’t let doubt sully their friendship. All those races and each and every conversation were not for nothing . He had to have some faith that those meant as much to K.O. as they did to him. He couldn’t let his own downward spiraling thoughts take him down that road when K.O.’s absence might be something simple and inconsequential and have nothing to do with Smokescreen.

Maybe K.O. had to deal with something important and it was just taking time. Maybe K.O. needed to stay low for a while and couldn’t risk meeting again. Maybe K.O.’s elusive partner returned. If it were any of those options, Smokescreen hoped it was the latter. K.O. did promise they could meet once his partner returned.

Well, okay. Maybe not promise , but he didn’t seem opposed when Smokescreen had suggested it! If anything, there had been interest and hope in K.O.’s field that one day that could be a possibility. 

Smokescreen decided that must be the reason. K.O. was too busy being reunited with his partner. He attempted to picture the unnamed mech, but K.O. had been pretty lax on the details, only calling him bulky. Whatever he looked like, Smokescreen hoped they were both barreling down a long stretch of highway together. The very thought of it lightened his spark greatly.

A gentle ping came from his HUD and Smokescreen immediately felt his tanks drop at Ratchet’s designation. It was never a good sign when he was called in the midst of patrol. 

::Smokescreen, where are you? Return to base, ASAP. We got a situation.:: 

Perhaps it was for the best K.O. and his partner were together tonight. Afterall, a “situation” almost certainly meant Decepticons and Smokescreen was itching for the chance to kick some aft.

--

A heavy energy hung over the Autobots. 

Smokescreen felt antsy, his wheels aching to spin and his doorwings twitching. After the night they just had, he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to recharge peacefully for quite some time, despite Ratchet’s insistence that he get some rest. Adrenaline still pulsed through his circuits, his processor still trying to understand what he had witnessed. 

He waited until the base grew quiet, waited for the flurry of activity to settle and everyone separated. Bee was quick to volunteer to go out for patrol, Acree disappeared to watch over the Darby residence, and Ratchet and Optimus had excused themselves into a private hab for a meeting. Only Bulkhead remained; his optics staring off into the distance, unfocused and deep in thought. 

Quietly, Smokescreen saddled up to the larger mech. He perched himself on a crate beside him and tentatively let his field brush against his. A weak, barely there flicker was returned and Smokescreen took that as good as any sign that his presence was welcomed. Since their fight with the human-mech monstrosity, Bulkhead had been quiet. Smokescreen was still trying to wrap his processor around it but at least he hadn’t known the bot personally. Not like Bulkhead did. 

“Were you friends?” 

He asked the question softly, simply letting the words hang in the air. He didn’t want to press or bother Bulkhead, but curiosity was killing him. 

Bulkhead swiveled his helm, almost surprised to see Smokescreen beside him. His field pressed back against Smokescreen’s purposefully, awareness and familiarity mingling in the space between. A heavy exvent left the mech’s intake, his frame sagging in exhaustion, almost painfully so. 

“Once. Long time ago.” 

Bulkhead scrubbed at his optics with the heel of his servo as he returned his gaze straight ahead. Smokescreen followed his example and kept his optics focused on the wall before them. 

After a lengthy silence, Smokescreen hesitantly asked, “What happened?”

“When you pick different sides, it tends to ruin friendships. Like I said, it was a long time ago. Probably knew him longer as an enemy and a ‘con than a friend. He…made a lot of mistakes, did some things I can never really forgive but…doesn’t really matter, still ain’t right what happened to him.” A moment of heavy silence hung between them. The air around them was heavy, pressing against his helm. Smokescreen barely caught the muttering of, “I wonder if his partner knows.”

Dread seeped into Smokescreen’s lines as he tried not to react to that word. 

Partner . 

He couldn’t help but think of the red speedster along the dusty stretch of road, alone and his missing partner, field awash in anger, grief, desperation. Smokescreen wanted to chalk it up as a coincidence, that there are two pairs of mechs missing their partners. Surely it was fluke, surely what he experienced tonight had nothing to do with K.O. 

“Partner?” Smokescreen asked quietly. Maybe if he whispered, then Bulkhead wouldn’t hear him and then he wouldn’t have to hear an answer and maybe he’d never have to find out-

“Flashy, red speedster.” Bulkhead spat each word out in anger, each word piercing Smokescreen’s spark. “Breakdown was smitten with him from the moment he laid eyes on him. I told him a mech like that was only going to get him in trouble. But he was stubborn as Pits and scrap at listening.” Bulkhead covered his optics with his servo and leaned back. Another heavy exvent rattled his frame before he continued, the anger absent from his words and replaced with solemn resignation. “Guess they were happy for a while. I didn’t think a mech like Knock Out would stick around long term but from what I gathered they never parted since. I’d almost feel bad if he weren’t a ‘con.”

Knock Out…K.O.

There was no more convincing himself of this being purely coincidence. Not anymore. There were too many points of connection, too much evidence stacking up. Smokescreen wasn’t sure what was worse: unknowingly, unwittingly befriending a Decepticon this whole time or feeling the painful grief in his spark knowing the loss K.O. was experiencing. 

Befriending. 

They probably were never friends. The Decepticon probably knew who he was the whole time and was just playing him like a fool. Probably was hoping Smokescreen would be dumb enough to drop some key intel. Who knows! Maybe he would have too, a couple more races there, a few more sentimental conversations there. Smokescreen probably would have played right into his servo like the bumbling fool he was.

“See kid, too trusting. It’s going to bite you in the aft one day, just you wait.”

K.O.- Knock Out - had even warned him. Smokescreen wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. Strangely enough, neither option felt particularly worthwhile. 

He wanted to feel worse about it. He wanted to be angry; he wanted to be hurt; he wanted to feel the acidic sting betrayal…but all Smokescreen felt was sympathy and sorrow. Even if Knock Out was playing him this whole time, the mech still lost his partner. Smokescreen could still remember the pain in his field, the ire, the isolation, the loneliness. Knock Out may have fabricated his relationship with Smokescreen, but his feelings for his partner, for Breakdown , had been real and earnest. 

“You think he knows?” Smokescreen finally asked. Last time they had talked, Knock Out didn't know where his partner was at all. No one else had seemed to even care. 

“You know what’s funny? You are the first one to offer, to even ask.”

“If Knock Out didn’t before, he is most definitely aware now,” Bulkhead grimaced. “I’m sure the ‘cons are dealing with it as we speak.”

“At least, he can give him funeral rites.” 

Smokescreen remembered reading about them all. Each city had its own traditions from the flypasts of Vos to ceremonial recordings of Iacon. Whatever the city, they all boiled down to the same thing: a time for mourning and remembrance. Surely, Decepticons would still uphold those values. Especially in regards to fallen partners. 

Bulkhead laughed, surprisingly jovial despite the grotesque monstrosity they had witnessed. “I’m sure Knock Out will give Silas and Breakdown what they deserve.” Upon seeing Smokescreen’s confusion, Bulkhead leaned in. “Knock Out is a possessive, controlling, selfish glitch. If anyone was going to give Silas righteous punishment, then it’ll be that horrible, violent chop-shop medic.”

Smokescreen grimaced. He tried to imagine Knock Out as an evil surgeon, saw in servo and manic glee in his optics. Instead, all he saw was a lonely mech, crushed with a loss Smokescreen hoped he would never understand. 

“You think it’ll help him?”

Bulkhead raised an optic ridge, meeting Smokescreen’s gaze for the first time since this conversation began. “Should we care?”

It was a pointed question, asking something deeper than the words stated. Smokescreen simply shrugged, ducking his helm. 

“Doesn’t make what happened right.”

Bulkhead’s field softened. A heavy servo made its way to Smokescreen’s shoulder, squeezing comfortingly. 

“No, it doesn’t. Breakdown was a lot of things but he never deserved that. No one does. And as horrible as Knock Out is, they were close.” Bulkhead gave his shoulder another squeeze. “Ain’t much we can do about it. At least, despite everything Knock Out is, he’ll put Breakdown to rest. I have got no doubts about that.”

Smokescreen nodded his helm as silence came once more. His spark still hurt. He could hear Knock Out’s words echoing in his helm.

“He’s not dead.”

Knock Out had been so sure, so furious at even the mere suggestion. He must be devastated. 

Smokescreen wished there was a way he could contact Knock Out. Even if they were to never meet again, to just let him know he was sorry for everything. He knew his words were meaningless. 

 “I don’t need your sympathies .”

Nothing he could say would make things right. Nothing he could do would turn back time. Nothing he had to offer would fix what was beyond repair. And even if he had the chance to see Knock Out again, Smokescreen had the sinking suspicion the red speedster would be on the other side of enemy lines.

--

Rage could only carry him for so long. Knock Out peered down at the parasite living in the husk with his partner with complete and utter disgust. 

Oh, he had been more than tempted to cut the infestation away. The buzzing urge beneath his plating to take the rotary saw and cut and cut and cut until it was all removed. He considered disposal by fire, burning away any lasting attempts the disease may have to survive. The airlock was also tempting. Rumor had it the flesh bags didn’t dwell too well in the cold grasp of space.

Revenge, however, kept his servos at bay. If the human got to see what the inner components of a Cybertronian really were, it was only fair Knock Out was allowed reciprocal exploration of the organic frame and there were many, many tests to run.

What was the earthly saying? “What’s yours is mine, body and soul.” Well, the soul was the human’s spark and Breakdown’s was long gone and snatched away. But Knock Out still had ownership of the body and all it possessed. A stale kindness from Megatron after accepting this gruesome nightmare into their fold.

The very thought of it burned in Knock Out’s spark chamber. Megatron had allowed this festering sickness into their rank, welcomed it with open arms while it puppeteered Breakdown’s corpse in a sick and twisted mimicry of life. Megatron had left Breakdown for dead before, and hadn't even been concerned when he had gone missing again. No one had. No one had even spared him a second thought. Only Knock Out.

“Want to look for him? I could help! I know the area pretty good and two mechs are better than one.”

And a lone, foolish Autobot.

Knock Out could still feel Smokescreen’s field, too honest and earnest in his emotions. He can’t help but wonder if he took the kid up on his offer if things may have been different. Emphatically, he knew that was not true. The human’s integration into the Cybertronian form was weeks old. By the time Smokescreen had offered, Breakdown was already gone. He would have been too late either way, but at least then he would have had agency. He wouldn’t have had to watch the corpse of his partner ambulate and move. He could have ripped out the pathetic, weak flesh and blood spark right then and there and then-

And then.

Knock Out felt a full body tremor rake through his frame, his plating shuddering. He was alone either way. 

“You have me too.”

The overly optimistic and earnest image of Smokescreen centered in his processor. He’d only see the naive little Autobot in his root mode once, but he could picture it well enough. Classic Paxian frame with every idealistic Autobot propaganda drenched in his processor. 

According to Silas, Smokescreen had aided good Ol’ Bulkhead in sending him to his defeat. Knock Out wondered if the kid had realized who he was yet. For all his naivety, Smokescreen was smarter than he gave himself credit for. Foolish and perhaps a tad too excitable, sure, but once he took a moment to think, Smokescreen would piece it all together and then…well, he definitely couldn’t continue meeting with the kid now. 

If he turned up now, he’d surely find Arcee or Bulkhead waiting for him instead. Or worse, Smokescreen would be waiting with yet another offer to join the Autobots. He could hear him now, feel his warm field of genuine sympathy. “You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

Knock Out let out a hollow, empty laugh. 

It echoed in his lonely medbay. Knock Out had temporarily gotten used to the still quiet during Breakdown’s disappearance, but now that Breakdown’s absence was permanent , the silence was unbearable. Gone was the deep rumble of a warm, familiar engine; absent were the deep laughs and the gruff words, the whispered jokes and the murmuring of sweet nothings. Nothing remained of his partner, except his shell, tainted and destroyed at the hands of meddling skinjobs. 

They should have never landed on his vile planet, just ignored Starscream’s call and continued gallivanting across the stars. Breakdown had suggested it once, a quiet midnight musing about maybe taking off on their own and fending for themselves. Knock Out had waved it away instantly. The protection and security of the Decepticons was too great an offer to pass out. How foolish he had been to put trust into that. 

“That naivety of yours is going to get you killed.”

He should have heeded his own advice. Instead of getting himself killed, it-

Knock Out stopped that train of thought immediately, shuttering his optics and forcing air to cycle through his vents. 

It didn’t matter anymore. 

Nothing did.

[sleepyowlwrites]

FTWT CCCLXXIV

a million light years ago away @artdecosupernova-writing sent me some words in an escape pod

lost (previous lives and premonitions, 2020)

Toby looked up at him with a gloomy expression. “I hate math.”

Arin had heard this sentiment at least once a day since he’d started tutoring Toby, so he nudged his side as he took a seat next to him. “What’s that? It sounds familiar, have you told me this before?”

“Shut up, you’re good at math. Don’t tease me.”

“Arin lives to tease you, Toby,” Mandy said without looking up from her phone. “It’s a lost cause, right, Penn?”

Penn smiled charmingly and shook his head. “Toby, you’ve gotten better at math since Arin started teaching you.”

“Doesn’t mean I like it any better,” Toby grumbled, leaning on Arin’s shoulder.

echo (on a hill, still, 2021)

Your voice in the air is a raindrop, a shiver, a tapping on the back of your hand. The church bell intones without notes, your own a throbbing echo like a shadow without a sun. The hour turns over and the song has still not begun. It has no singer, no self, no place to stand.

alone (space story d0)

Myr couldn't mourn their memory if they'd never had one, but maybe they did have one at one point. If Gaor knew, and he probably did, he wasn't going to tell. Myr asked him other things instead, like why Feastor was completely green or humans never made a third Earth. Gaor didn't always answer them, and if he did, it was often in riddles again, but Myr didn't mind too much. At least they had someone to talk to.

They talked to their spaceship sometimes, but it was an inanimate thing. It couldn't talk back and Myr could only go so long without talking to someone who talked back. Sometimes when they made their way back to Alpha Nine and stepped out onto the rocky terrain, they felt like the planet had gotten considerably older since their last visit. It was possible. Myr didn't keep good time when they was alone.

Which was always, since they were always alone.

solitude (you, of flight, and I, of falsehood, 2021)

yet even as the dusk offered solitude and sanctuary still- it was a knife to be feared

desperate (guild story d0)

“Why would you take a contract with house Lyreel? You think their days are numbered.”

“Because their days are numbered.” Xiyun shifted to face him, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Lord Lyreel is desperate enough to make foolish strikes against his enemies and it won’t do him any good. I’ll make money without changing the game. That’s the best way to do it.”

Idrian didn’t turn himself in her direction, but kept staring out at the yard. The skars and masters were all at the evening meal, and the only other occupants were a couple of stable hands taking tack to the cleaners. Idrian tracked their movements while counting his breaths. Xiyun always did have such an easy time getting a rise out of him. He wanted to think that was why she tended to win their sparring matches, though it was equally likely that she was merely a better fighter than he was.

invisible (city story d0)

Jet likes to imagine that he still has fine lines running through his liminal spaces. That he has fences set up between him and the world, and thinner, more invisible fences between him and the people who have decided they're his friends. And maybe he also considers him friends, but that means reordering his priorities and he doesn't want to bother. It's bad enough that Rune has emerged triumphant at the top of the list, scowling and shrugging him off even while he makes space for her and her chains. Copper sits next to him, not even on the list, too important to order and too precious to hold onto.

What he has in his life is a set of fence-breakers, and ones that he's becoming increasingly fond of, and it’s tearing at him underneath his armor. They smile at him and tell him jokes and insist that they want to help him out of the fights he puts himself in, as if he ever asked for such a thing.

"You don't have to ask," Yarrow tells him the day after the bloody fight with Rune, when Jet is pretending he's the only person in this garage.

fear, slight, between, likely. BONUS: abound, sideways. @enchanted-lightning-aes @peresephones @odysseywritings @dontjudgemeimawriter OR ANYBODY

[anjumstar]

Sand Lines ch5, Saturday

Read on AO3

rating: teen

pairing: bakudeku

word count: 28.3k/40.6k

summary: It wasn’t a vacation. It was only convenient that Katsuki’d managed to trick Miruko into thinking it was.

Katsuki doesn’t need a break. Post-war life has been peaceful. Too peaceful. So under the guise of a vacation, Katsuki heads to the American southwest, the only place where he can do the thing he wants to do the most: blow stuff up. Big time. And it’s all going to according to plan for about five minutes, until Deku comes along. They’ve barely seen each other since graduation last year and Katsuki could, should blow him up for getting in his business yet again. Instead, they learn about post-war life in the way they’ve done everything: together.

first chapter - previous chapter - next chapter

master list

Alamogordo, New Mexico

Katsuki had decided. He was gonna beat not just Izuku, but also Tap ‘n Go and Water Foul at this time off business. He was going to be number one. 

“Wake up!” Katsuki shouted, throwing a shirt at Izuku’s face, hitting his sleeping target squarely even with the lights still off.

“Ngh!” Izuku sputtered as he shot up in bed, the shirt falling from his face and plopping innocently in his lap as Izuku looked at Katsuki with sleep-heavy eyes. “Kacchan, what the hell?”

“Rise and shine, nerd, today we learn how to take a vacation.”

“Now?” Izuku asked, groaning as Katsuki flicked the lights on. “Why?”

“Because you’re not gonna say, wow, I thought Kacchan knew everything to me again,” Katsuki said, grabbing up his stuff from around the room. Wallet, phone, keys. “Bullshit. I do know everything.”

Katsuki was slathering on some sunscreen when Izuku said, “Um, Kacchan, isn’t this your shirt?”

“Black is better against UV. You might as well not be wearing anything in your shitty pastels,” Katsuki stated. “Put it on or look even more like a shitty lychee.”

Izuku’s freckles had come out in the desert sun. They hid well under his burgeoning sunburn-turned-tan, but in that stark light, Katsuki witnessed how they bloomed on his shoulders down to his forearms. He was pink and brown all over.

“Fine,” Izuku said, tugging the black tee on and popping out the neck hole with a bad case of bedhead.

“Pfft,” Katsuki laughed, the sound no more than a medium gust of air. “You look like a thirteen year old going to his first emo concert.”

“Hey, you’re making me wear it!”

“And you’re making me laugh!”

“A price I’m willing to pay.” Izuku grinned as he tugged on a pair of cargo shorts. Also pale, but at least the fabric was thicker. “Where are we going?”

“You’re gonna have to hold your piss for at least an hour.”

“That doesn’t remotely answer the question.”

“You’re a nerd, interpret that as you will.”

It seemed as though, aside from hiking, there wasn’t much to do in this region. Lots of cliffs and caves and mountains, sprinkled with museums, eateries, and ranches. Coming from a town so close to Tokyo made it seem like there’d be more to do if their flights had just dropped them off smack-dab in the middle of the ocean.

Katsuki was satisfied with hiking. It was one of the things he did in his time off even back home, because it still felt productive. But that was what the vacation was supposed to disrupt, wasn’t it?

So they were going out of town.

Katsuki lifted up the car keys and gave them a jingle. “I’m getting old here.”

“You’re not even five minutes older yet,” Izuku quibbled, going over to the sinks to brush his teeth. “Just gimme a minute.”

They were out to the car in three, Izuku’s blessed lack of vanity making him easy enough to shove out the door. He just needed a brush, a whizz, and a protein bar chipmunked away in one chubby cheek and he was good to go.

They were soon on the interstate, pointed in the direction of the Missile Range. Even with the windows up and the air set to recirculate, the dusty smell of terracotta earth crept in, mingling with the dry gypsum that had managed to speckle the car’s black interior. Despite the rain last night, the scent was still wrung out, like dry dirt but more, like a dust storm you could drink.

And somehow, overnight, the land had turned green. Not like Japan with its plenty of trees and bushes and grass, but greener than Katsuki had ever seen this place. The yucca stood taller, the prickly pears were plumper. And the little clumps of grass, brown enough to blend in with the desert as Katsuki tripped over them a couple days ago, now cast a verdancy over the land that stretched for miles.

When they passed right by the Missile Range, Izuku’s head whipped back, then he looked towards Katsuki with wide eyes. He had to know better than to ask if Katsuki had missed a turn, but the question of where rested on his face. But like in the hotel, Katsuki wasn’t going to answer. Instead, he took his right hand and put it on the center console.

“You gonna sit there or are you gonna do something useful?”

“Oh!” Izuku said, the surprise unable to be hidden. But he didn’t say anything as he took Katsuki’s right hand in both of his and began massaging the muscles, stretching the joints, warming the skin against the air conditioning.

Katsuki was still getting used to this. When his and Izuku’s hands met, it was in combat—on both sides of their friendship. Exchanged blows in enmity or camaraderie, and very little else. But now Izuku was taking Katsuki’s hand in his, was holding his arm gently as he removed cactus needles, was close all the time. Izuku could easily pause and rest his hand in Katsuki’s, thread their fingers together, draw Katsuki’s hand further into his lap. And maybe Katuski would let him.

Which was a weird thought as Katsuki clenched his left hand against the wheel, only to shoot a twinge of pain up his forearm. He nearly snatched his other hand away, but that would have stood out, it would have beckoned questions, or at least made Izuku think things that maybe he was wise enough not to ask aloud.

They blurred past a sign marked 75 mph. Katsuki’s eyes slid over to the dash as the smaller kilometer dial crept up over 100 kph, 110, 120… But even at the speed limit, traffic blew by them, cars hopping over to the fast lane just to pass them. So the dial moved further, 130, approaching 140 before they were running in parallel with the cars around them. It was fast, way faster than they ever got in Japan. It was All Might-fast, Deku-fast. Staring at Izuku’s lightning-clad back as he ran ahead and disappeared for a year-fast.

“Other hand, Kacchan.”

It was slightly uncomfortable, reaching his left arm underneath his right as he switched driving hands. But the road was long and straight and wide, so Katsuki just kept his eyes between the lines as Izuku began working, his fingers now brushing Katsuki’s hip occasionally as he worked up the wrist. 

“This is kind of doing it, right?” Izuku asked. “Yeah, we’re going somewhere, and maybe that’s productive, but it’s quiet. We’re just sitting together. Not much is happening. And it’s okay.”

Maybe Izuku had a point, but there was something different about this than even the meal they’d shared yesterday. In the car, Katsuki had to look forward, had to focus on something that wasn’t Izuku. There was a separation that cleared Katsuki’s mind, at least a bit. When it was just him and Izuku, no focus point to filter some of Izuku out with, there was something that was too much. Something that he couldn’t figure out.

“Failing grade, Deku.”

They were coming to a scenic overpass, the crest of the mountain that hugged the far west end of the valley. The car chugged up a sharper incline, and Katsuki pulled his warm, limber hand back to control the wheel. He kept his eyes on the road, curling a smile under his frown as Izuku oohed and ahhed over the view as they crept higher and higher.

Unlike the drive from the day before, this one wasn’t blocked by evergreens. The regular brush, slightly greener from the rain, stalked them up the mountain, dotting the sharp hills like freckles. Behind them, in the rear-view mirror, Katsuki could make out the whole valley: the blanched strip of White Sands and the darker smudge of Alamogordo.

Coming down the other side of the mountain, there were towns. Patches of fast food joints and squat houses and water towers painted with scenes of the American west bordered the whole highway. No building more than a story high, no town extending longer than a city block. There probably wasn’t any crime, because everyone had to know each other in a place so small. The criminal would be found out before even the fastest hero teleported.

They were back on flat land, the mountains once again tall behind them when Katsuki pulled off the highway. Izuku was staring out the window, probably thirsty for hints about Katsuki’s plan, because goodness knew there wasn’t much to look at besides Mexican restaurants and American chain establishments.

When they turned into a parking lot, every spot with so much as a twig’s worth of shade was taken, but one spot was all Katsuki needed as he cut it close to the cars on either side with the monstrosity of an SUV he was driving.

“What is this place?” Izuku asked, looking at what was very clearly the back of a building with zero signage.

“Dunno,” Katsuki said, hopping out of the car and slamming his door closed. “Not going there. C’mon.”

The sun walloped them hard once the last of the air conditioning wicked off their skin, reminding them that outside of the oasis of the car, this was the desert. Despite it still being early morning, the sun was high already, running up to its peak.

There were more people around than Katsuki had seen since he’d left the airport. Car doors slammed around him to reveal people in broad-brimmed hats all walking the same way that the GPS had told him to go. Katsuki melded in with the crowd, Izuku right on his heels.

And here, Katsuki could blend in with the crowd. Without any efforts towards disguise, he and Izuku were invisible, as good as civilians in this country. Surely they were famous enough that if they mentioned their hero names, both the more hero fanatical and the news buffs would turn their heads. But as they were, doing nothing to draw attention to themselves, not so much as lick of merch tagging their clothes, they were unknown in a way they hadn’t been since Katsuki was fourteen.

They could do anything and no one would know. No one would have phones facing toward them or be firing off texts with the news of a Deku and Dynamight sighting. They were anonymous.

“Oh, wow!”

“This is it,” Katsuki said, waving an arm out to the street before them.

It was a block full of tents and carts, artisans hawking their wares and food vendors fanning the scents of their food toward the passersby. There were endless colors in the forms of flowers and jewelry and painted terracotta pots. And when Katsuki looked from one end of the street to the other, the end of the street fair was nowhere in sight. It wasn’t nearly as packed as a Japanese street lined with food vendors, but it was probably just as big, just stretched over the plentiful land of the region.

“A glorified farmer’s market,” Katsuki declared. “The most boring thing imaginable.”

Izuku barked out a laugh, and it took Katsuki aback. It was brief, over as soon as it started. But it wasn’t a sound Katsuki heard often from Izuku, and it was…nice. He had to frown away his own burgeoning smile as Izuku turned to look at him, grin on his face. “Then why are we here?”

“If we can figure out why all these people are here, why this mind-numbing activity is at the top of this wasteland’s expendable tourist board,” Katsuki laid out, “then we’ll be number one at this vacation shit.”

The warm, bright look on Izuku’s face narrowed into sharp eyes and furrowed brows as he turned his attention to the crowd. He was active, curious, analyzing. Katsuki might have liked that expression even better.

“Challenge accepted,” Izuku said. “Plus ultra.”

“Okay, this way,” Katsuki said, choosing a direction at random and snagging Izuku by the shoulder to follow.

They stepped into the fray and observed the obvious things. The smells were intoxicating—so different from Japanese cuisine. Too sweet, too oily, but alluring. It didn’t take Izuku long to buy a bag of kettle corn and begin devouring it with the sticky hands of the toddler Katsuki had once known.

“People like going out for food they don’t have to cook,” Izuku observed, offering Katsuki a piece of the strangely round popcorn.

It was alright. A little overly sweet but with decent salt. Katsuki could understand the appeal. Besides, food was one of the few things that Katsuki already put some effort into in his free time. Another productive hobby, just like hiking or working out.

“That’s appeal number one,” Katsuki agreed.

“People like shopping,” Izuku pointed out next. Canvas totes and reused grocery bags were bulging with jars and collectables and artwork. Cash was flowing and, briefly, Katsuki wondered if he had enough currency left for the day, but then he remembered he wasn’t buying any of this shit.

“Pass,” Katsuki said, avoiding eye contact with the tie dye vendor they were passing. Like he hadn’t been able to make tie dye shirts when he was five years old.

“I dunno,” Izuku mused. “Sometimes clothes shopping can be fun.”

“That’s only because you have the sense of humor of a middle-aged dad and your t-shirts reflect that.”

“Well, yeah, that can be fun!”

Aguas frescas were next, because they’d only been out fifteen minutes, and already beads of sweat were forming along Katsuki’s brow. The pink drink that was in his hand a few minutes later dripped cold condensation down his arm as the ice began its rapid melt.

“I can drink sugary shit at home,” Katsuki complained as the floral taste of hibiscus hit his tongue. It wasn’t as overly sweet as he’d assumed, but he kept that to himself as he slurped it down. “In the AC. What makes this special?”

“I dunno,” Izuku said, sucking down on an horchata, reduced to pouring the kettle corn directly into his mouth with his other available hand. “People watching? Seeing stuff you don’t usually see?”

“The only reason I need to watch people is to be able to describe their dumb faces in a crime report,” Katsuki said. “And I don’t need any of this shit.” They were passing a vendor selling clocks whittled into ornate wooden cutouts. Nothing Katsuki needed to lug back to Japan when he had a smartwatch on his wrist at all times.

“Wait, wait, an All Might stall!”

Katsuki followed Izuku’s gaze, expecting to see a stall of red, blue, and yellow, but instead saw Izuku running towards a stall glutted with unofficial merch for heroes and comic books alike. But Izuku zeroed in on a selection of mini All Mights dangling from a jewelry stand and was already halfway done leafing through them by the time Katsuki meandered over.

“Kacchan, how do I pick?” Izuku asked as he picked up two off-brand All Mights. Both were flying, but one was in his silver age and one in his bronze age and, despite being homemade, Katsuki had to admit they looked pretty damn good.

“What are they?”

“Phone charms,” Izuku explained, showing how the little black string looped into the corner of his smart phone. “It only makes sense for him to be flying since he’s dangling, you know, he shouldn’t be standing.

“Obviously,” Katsuki agreed sarcastically. Though he couldn’t refute the nerd’s logic.

“So which one?” Izuku asked. “It should be these ones with the cape instead of golden age so that it’s extra clear that he’s flying, but the costume colors are so different there’s just no way to possibly choose—Kacchan, help!”

“Buy both.”

Izuku looked relieved and Katsuki almost laughed. This damn peaceful climate and Izuku’s greatest moment of distress was not being able to choose between different versions of All Might.

While Izuku eagerly paid, Katsuki took the bronze age All Might—an era he’d always been partial to with its dark red and black color scheme—and looped it around the corner of his phone. It looked dorky as hell.

“Kacchan?” Izuku asked when he was done with the cashier. “What are you doing?”

“I paid for the rental car and the room,” Katsuki reasoned with a shrug. “You paid for this—now we’re even.”

Izuku laughed again, This one twice as long as the earlier laugh Katsuki had earned. It made his stomach squeeze. “Now we match!”

Both of their phones were adorned with little dangling All Mights, making them a matched set like friendship bracelets or the All Might cards they’d both pulled in childhood. It was too darling for Katsuki to bear, and he had half a mind to take his and Izuku’s phones both and blow them up between his hands. It also made him want to take Izuku’s hand and lift it in the air declaring that they were a pair and always had been and no one had better separate them again. Instead, he shoved his phone back in his pocket and let the little All Might charm dangle from his hip.

“Okay, I get it now,” Izuku said grinning. “Shopping has its benefits.”

Their shoulders bumped together as the crowd bottlenecked around a food truck. Izuku was so damn warm to the touch already, and the dark shirt wasn’t helping, even if it would stave off the burning. The thing was beginning to saturate with sweat, becoming skin tight around Izuku’s ab muscles, reminding Katsuki of how he’d looked shirtless and sweaty the day before. Just the brief touch shoulder to shoulder made Katsuki sweat even more.

“Oh, Kacchan, over there!”

Izuku put his hand on Katsuki’s shoulder and that was even warmer. He could feel the damp of Izuku’s palm through his shirt sleeve, and the touch felt heavy. Every new touch between them was surprising and rawly sensory. Like the smack of salt the first time he’d tasted miso plain or a day after training waking up to a muscle he hadn’t known about screaming out in pain. It was just a hand, so why did it feel like so much?

“Chile jam!” Izuku exclaimed, coming to a stop in front of a stand, dropping his hand in order to point at the glass jars of yellow, orange, and red. 

“The fuck?” Katsuki blurted, earning a head tilt and furrowed brow from the vendor. 

“What’s this?” Izuku asked, pointing to the peculiarly labeled jars. There were other strange jellies and jams on the table: garlic and onion and ginger, but Izuku’s attention was squarely on the one with the magic word. Chile.

“It’s one of our specialties,” the woman answered from her folding lawn chair. Everything at the stand was made of the same canvas-like polyester, from the chair to the tablecloth to the tent providing brief relief from the sun, drawing shoppers under its brim. “Jam reduced down with tomatoes and different peppers. It’s got a real kick, I swear to hither and yon.”

“I can take more than a little kick.”

“Oh, can ya?”

The woman used the edge of the table to push herself up, shaking all the jars of jam as she looked up to face Katsuki. Her face was as weathered as the land itself with the same kinds of crags and ridges and sun-roasted tan.

From a cup of doll-sized spoons, the woman took one, and untwisted a loose jar lid with her other hand. Without breaking eye contact with Katsuki, she dipped the spoon in the jar and then placed the red sauce in her mouth. Before even swallowing, she grabbed another, filled it with jam, and held it out towards Katsuki. A challenge.

He took it immediately, and placed the spoon facedown on his tongue, licking the spoon clean in one swift motion while the woman’s spoon dangled from her mouth like a loose cigarette.

It was sweet. It was jam. The sugar glided over his tongue, reminding him of that horrid fudge for a moment before the tangy hit of acid from the tomato kicked in. Not so different from a ketchup from a button-up only, cloth napkin restaurant.

Also…It was hot.

It crept up from behind like a little stalker villain that Katsuki would usually be ready to whip around and knock out with one blow from his quirk. But this vendor lady hadn’t so much as blinked at the spice, and so Katsuki wouldn’t either. He had a lifetime of controlling the sweat glands in his hands, but he’d never had to pay attention to the pores on his face. His sideburns were soaked and his bangs stuck to his forehead like a bad alpaca fur beanie. But that was just the sweat from the day, right? This old bat wouldn’t think he was bowing under the pressure—he’d rather take some of this lava jam to the eye than that.

“Good, huh?” the lady asked.

Katsuki swallowed. “Great,” he rasped.

And that was the kicker, wasn’t it? Even as it made all his taste buds stand erect like good little child soldiers in a war, he thought damn if it wouldn’t taste good slathered on a piece of roast pork.

He slapped down the eight bucks that crazy lady was charging for it and left before she could see his face go red.

“Well, that was fun, wasn’t it?” Izuku asked, a wide grin on his face. “Not boring?”

“It was grocery shopping,” Katsuki retorted. “And a bother for customs.”

But…he was having a little bit of fun. A smidgeon. And he still didn’t understand why, because his mind should be half numbed with sugar and heat and boredom, but it wasn’t. He wasn’t. Instead, he had half a mind to point Izuku towards the All Might bottle cap charms across the way or the aloe plants one tent down that would help soothe their burns.

Izuku had to take the jar, since it fit into one of his massive pockets, making it look like he had one and a half hip bones. But of course, the idiot was happy to do it, thrilled even. Like in this dearth of distressed civilians and villains to take down, being able to save Katsuki the grief of carrying both a jam jar and a drink was gonna push him up a score in the hero rankings. 

“I think you’d rather be grocery shopping,” Izuku said—and it was a fair assumption. The supermarket was air conditioned and efficient and didn’t have random ladies squaring up like he wouldn’t push her out of the way for the last tin of wasabi peas.

But he’d also be alone at the supermarket. And go back to his empty apartment alone. He’d put most of the groceries away and cook dinner for one like he always did.

“Whaddyou know?” Katsuki said instead, frowning.

“You. Pretty well,” Izuku retorted. “I thought maybe I’d forgotten some about you in the past year but no, you’re always up here.”

He gestured towards his head with his shoulder, which Katsuki caught out the corner of his eye as they continued walking forward. A dog was peeing on the sidewalk shockingly close to some macramé merchandise. A kid dropped an ice cream cone on the ground and burst out crying. This end of the street fest was drawing near.

Katsuki wasn’t even sure how well he knew himself. If he did, wouldn’t the shit those old fart heroes had been talking about on Thursday be his reality already? Sometimes it seemed impossible to tell who he was beyond fists and explosions and sweat. But Izuku had always known things that Katsuki hadn’t, and it in equal measure made him want to go back to the car and leave Izuku in a fit of red dust, and pry the answers out of Izuku with his nails, with his teeth.

“No,” Katsuki said. “This feels different.”

They were approaching a barricade of orange cones at the end of the street, nothing but one food truck left between them and the end of this side of the fair.

“Different than what?”

“Like this is so boring my brain should melt out of my ears, but you’re distracting it from that.”

“Which is a…good thing?”

Katsuki walked ahead. Straight past the food truck and past the orange cones so they were back in the normal town, cars passing by at a quick clip. Everyone drove fast here, like there was actually somewhere to go. “It’s an annoying thing.”

“Oh…?”

Izuku was confused. Even not looking at the guy, still facing the street, Katsuki could all but see the cocked head, the wide eyes, the hand drooping in the air in front of him as it tried to draw a real answer out of Katsuki.

But Katsuki had none to give. This wasn’t a regular feeling. It was a new one, no more relatable to his regular rolodex of feelings than it was to a swarm of bees storming his stomach. Really, actually, it was more like the bees.

“I thought I’d be alone this week,” Katsuki said, allowing the cars to swallow up his words. He didn’t give a damn if Izuku heard or not. “Had been looking forward to it. Then your ass blows in near immediately and well. Thought I’d punch your lights out, but I haven’t.”

Katsuki was sure that’d stir a response. Not throwing a punch was as good as taking one yourself. That’s why he’d always struck first in a fight. Set the tone. Don’t give yourself a chance to be thrown off right at the top. But somehow Izuku had gotten the upper hand without making the first move while Katsuki sat back on his heels. No, actually, he’d been doing something, but it hadn’t been fighting. And when it wasn’t fighting, Katsuki couldn’t figure it out.

But Izuku didn’t say anything. Mind was surely working a kilometer a minute, but what else was new.

“You’re the best to train with. You’re not even horrible to share a room with. Lousy at vacationing with,” Katsuki continued. “You used to get on my nerves just being around. But you being fucking absent for a year threw everything off, and I can’t shake it.”

“I wasn’t gone—you were busy too!”

“Shut up.”

It hadn’t been important. Nothing besides scattered flashes of their work shifts had ever been an emergency or desperate or immediately necessary in any way. They’d just been making busy because they didn’t know how to do anything else. Because they didn’t know how to just be with themselves. That was what UA had never taught them. 

“We don’t know how to be friends!” Katsuki exclaimed. “Maybe we never did!”

However loud Katsuki's words were, the silence was louder. It was fraught with humming vehicles and excited voices making their way through the street fair, but none of that was the deafening part. The space between him and Izuku was what screamed at Katsuki.

“K-Kacchan…”

Izuku was upset now. Great. And by God, some horrible yanking behind Katsuki’s lungs made him want to do something about it. It was like his upper chest had been speared by a fishhook and was pulling him back to where Izuku stood behind him, potentially blubbering because Katsuki couldn’t hold his tongue, yet again.

But when Katsuki turned around, Izuku wasn’t weeping. He was frowning, but his eyes were only glistening, no more than the sweat on his forehead or down the column of his neck. He was shiny all over and it was captivating. He’d always drawn Katsuki’s gaze like this, but it had never before filled him with such fresh vexation.

It pushed him to take a step forward. Then another. And another. He was close enough to Izuku to smell the heady mix of sweat intermingled with sunscreen and exhaust puffing out of that food truck. It was acrid and hot and it smelled a little like battle but they were safe but if they were safe then why was Katsuki’s heart pounding like a villain was on his tail, like something was catching up to him, like—

He had to do something. He had to.

He leaned in. He heard Izuku say: “Oh.” Actually, he felt it more than he heard it. Soft, puffing against his mouth. And then, because he couldn’t allow Izuku to figure it out first, took one last step forward, and closed the gap.

Their lips touched. And Katsuki had no idea what he was doing, he was only aware of what was next. Next: him grabbing Izuku’s sweaty hair and fisting it in his sweaty palm. Next: them slotting their lips to the side so that they actually fit, and dammit, they did fit. Next: a touch of tongue that tasted like hibiscus and cinnamon and caramel. Next: they broke apart and stared at each other with wide eyes.

It was a line in the sand, crossed. A line they hadn’t even known about, blown to scattered waste.

Next. Katsuki took two big steps backwards and blasted himself right over traffic and ran.

*

Las Cruces, New Mexico

Running was hard in this country. The air was thin. The sun was hot. Katsuki had spilled his hibiscus drink on his hand before he’d dropped it and it looked like he’d murdered a Jigglypuff. He had no idea where he was or where he was going, but that was a problem for later. Everything was a problem for later. Right now, the only problem was running.

Of course, running wasn’t a problem when you wielded the most powerful quirk in the world. So Katsuki had only cleared one, maybe one-and-a-half blurry blocks before a flash of teal lit up in front of him and forced him to stop or else make more of a coward of himself.

“Kacchan!” Izuku exclaimed, and it wasn’t so different from his arrival just a few days ago. Skidding to a stop, just a little out of breath, and with Katsuki more than a little dumbfounded. “Kacchan, what the…what?”

And fuck, running hadn’t made his heart rate go down at all. Hadn’t stopped the nervous sweat or the sweat from the heat certainly or even the sweat from his quirk, which could probably send him straight to the stratosphere with one wrong thought just about now. “I don’t know!”

“Kacchan, you can’t just kiss someone and run!”

“You don’t tell me what I can and can’t do!”

“Well then, what—why? Why did you do it?” Those little aspirated puffs coming off the W questions betrayed that Izuku actually might have been a bit out of breath. Maybe his heart was beating as fast as Katsuki’s. He’d lost his drink too, and the popcorn, but his shorts were still hanging heavy with the fucking jam.

“I had to do something!” Katsuki shouted. 

“Something?” Izuku asked. “Or that thing?”

“What’s it to you!” Katsuki rebutted, weak as anything. Weak in a way that made sweat sting his eyes and he had to blink it away fast lest any idiot think it was something else.

“It’s everything!” Izuku shouted back. “What’s it to you?”

It was…something. It was confusing. It was surprising. It was a mystery and maybe it was obvious but it was also good and maybe really bad and it was done but it wasn’t over.

Maybe it was inevitable. Maybe it should have already happened.

“I wanted to,” he said simply. “And so I did.”

“You wanted to…? Since when?” Izuku asked.

“Just now!”

Izuku shook his head, as though that was wrong, as though Katsuki had just lied to him, as though that was something that Katsuki would ever do. “What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know!” Katsuki exclaimed. He didn’t know. He hadn’t thought that far. His mind was racing in an effort to catch up and figure that out, but every thought was too fast and shadowed by the next to decipher. “Whaddyou know?”

Katsuki asked it again. As though Izuku was hiding information from him. It was inside of him—of that Katsuki was sure. He wanted to crawl down Izuku’s throat and claw it out, figure out what bloody truth lay between them that neither of them had words for. That was the only way he could think to do it, the only thing that even began to make sense.

“I-I…” Izuku stuttered, his head shaking slightly, his eyes wide and confused, but he didn’t take a single step back from Katsuki. He couldn’t. “I don’t know. I… What now?”

Now had run away when Katsuki had. Now was back by those traffic cones and here, Katsuki had no idea. Of anything.

He sighed, the first breath he’d managed to get even halfway under him. It tasted like both of them. “Car. That’s what. Let’s get outta here.”

[puddinpurinscorner]

SeriRei fic

I'm pumping out mp100 content like a meth head giving out candy. Bad analogy, sorry.

Anyways, day 4 of making Mob Psycho content to cope with the series ending. Today I challenged myself with writing. It's a SeriRei fic. I suppose this would be pt. 1 if I want to continue it.

I tried making it romantic but it low-key reads like a comedy .-.

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

Reigen came home from another day at the office. Opening the door to his small apartment, he slipped his shoes off, removed his jacket, and loosened his tie. He let himself fall on his bed and sighed, letting the weight of the world sink in. He stared at the ceiling with empty eyes, unreflective of all the thoughts racing through his head. Instead, channeling the feeling of dread that had overcome him. Things really wouldn’t get easier from here on for him. Not that things had ever been easy for Arataka Reigen. 

… 

For weeks now he had been experiencing strange events he didn’t quite understand. Which is not common for one whose livelihood is based on the occult. For one, of course, he was a sweaty man, but he’d been sweating more than usual.

"Is it just me, or is the temperature rising?" he'd ask out loud as he took a handkerchief to his neck.

"Shishou, it's the middle of fall" Mob would respond, looking up from his manga.

Serizawa would let out one of his token nervous laughs and try to say something accommodating like, "the temperature did rise one degree from yesterday". Not particularly helpful, but all in good nature. Serizawa never did anything that wasn't in good nature.

And, although he prides himself in his silver tongue, he’d find it turning to lead at times. Though he attributed his mouth going dry to the weather.

He seemed to unconsciously bite his pen or fidget with his fingers. He brushed it off as a tic that helped him think.

Even so, these things were so unlike him. He came to think that the years of smoking finally came back to bite him in the ass. Perhaps his body was giving its last hurrah before going out. At least, that’s what he initially thought.

Reigen was a master at noticing patterns. It’s just another one of the strengths he would talk to Mob about. Academic skills, strong body odor, psychic powers, or a great ability at recognizing patterns. It’s a driving factor behind his charm and people skills. Although a blessing, also a curse; when he came to understand that behind all these strange behaviors there was one common factor.

Him. 

The former-terrorist, previous shut-in that he decided to take in on impulse. He had offered him a job once upon a time. Hell, the man had saved his life, and he thought it was the least he could do, or well, the only thing he had to offer. He didn’t actually believe he’d take him up on the offer. Imagine his surprise when he showed up one fateful day.

Another of Reigens 'special abilities' was his ability to lie. To others and himself. At first, the excuse was that he was subconsciously wary of the dude because he was an ex-terrorist. Though realistically, the man’s about as threatening as a shiba puppy. His second excuse was that he hadn’t consistently talked with another adult on the daily in years, so of course he’d act a little off, which was more believable, but not it. Then he went on to believe that the man’s psychic power was messing with his psyche, but years of being around one of the most powerful espers on earth couldn't even do that.

Finally, he concluded the most obvious answer. Of course, how couldn't he have realized it sooner: he was possessed!

He was satisfied and left it at that. That is, until he actually became possessed and Mob had to rip that sucker out of him. And, to his dismay, the symptoms continued. That incident left him with a lack of creativity and motivation and no other option than to face the truth.

He left the office that afternoon and was on his walk home. He usually left before the sun set, but he had been particularly immersed in his work today. Being cooped up in the office with no out-of-office clients, he hadn’t realized how cool and calm the night air was. The sun was setting at this point and he had a moment to admire the beautiful blending of pinks, yellows, and purples. He stopped to admire the two birds framed by this background.

He wasn’t sure if it was the intensity of the imagery before him that triggered it. Or if the sashimi in his lunch had gone bad, but a thought hit him all at once. He didn’t react. He simply let the realization hit him as he continued to gaze at the sky.

See, there wasn’t a particular moment where he fell in love. Rather, there was a moment where he finally realized he had fallen in love.

… 

Lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, he had his second major realization of the day:

He was fucked.

[joytraveler]

#42: The Death Master

"Yeah, if it was just Death Master that'd be one thing, but this is THE Death Master! Meaning if I wanna master death, this is the guy to train with! I have a huge thumb wrestling match with Death coming up so I should probably train and grow strong"

Lightning crackles on the title screen and THE DEATH MASTER logo shatters out of a towering monolith with a shower of blood(??) A barely-dressed, axe-wielding barbarian hero appears over the Press Start prompt, and begins swinging his huge battle axe at nothing.

Chillarmy_The_Bee: start playing, chop chop! Heheh aroseahorseboy: see, this is men being reduced to sex objects

"I know isn't it great?" Bea can't press start fast enough!

"This looks SUPER oldschool NES so you know it's gonna be hard, no rest for your poor queen I guess" She pouts.

This game is very much in the flavor of an early hack-n-slash like Rastan or Trojan. You really are the Death Master, all the monsters are SUPER easy to kill, and there's tons of blood! EVERYTHING bleeds red blood, from orcs and goblins, to plant monsters, robots and ghosts!

Butterfly_Defect: damn, you are destroying this entire country! Will anything be alive when Bea is done? Karbokarr: Axe dude is merciless Baconnaise: The MUSHROOM is bleeding.

She takes out horde after horde of enemies. "This is like the opposite of Samurai Jack, everything I cut turns to blood instead of robots! But I can't help but feel like this wasn't balanced that well? I think I can die but I'd have to let it happen!"

"I'm trying to think of something to name this guy and Alonzo keeps coming to mind" Despite the gruesome sprays of pixelated blood, he does have a certain charm.

The final stage is a cemetery town, where ghosts, ghouls and reapers swarm around 'Alonzo' and are dutifully chopped into alpo! It's been a fun ride even if it was way too easy. "At least we haven't been killing people, I don't think? Unless he burned down the towns we've gone through"

Boss time is upon us, though... And it's a Grim Reaper that's about two screens tall! Alonzo has to ride his scythe up when he swings it and swing at his face as he falls back down!

"That's a whole lotta Death" Bea mutters as the battle begins. She adapts pretty quickly but this is surely the toughest fight yet, no button mashing to victory this time!

"These games are definitely getting better as we keep going, we've come a long way from 'This Isn't A Snake Clone With A Tapeworm We Promise'" She hums the Kid Icarus fanfare as she refuses to fear the reaper.

Finally, with just a couple well-placed chops each, Alonzo scatters all the Reaper's bones but one-- the skull, which bounces helplessly around as they finally hit the floor below. One more smack, and it falls in half, dry and empty!

"Annnd here comes the candy- oh" She looks a little disappointed. "Oddly enough the final boss is the least bloody one! What a... BONE head!"

"Wait don't unsubscribe yet I'll have another joke in a minute, I promise"

The reaper's cloak comes fluttering down, and lands on Alonzo-- and his eyes glow red.

The words bleed onto the screen like open wounds: [YOU ARE THE DEATH MASTER.]

"Death master, reaper blaster, my axe is also a stratocaster! BWEEOWOWOWOWOW! That's how a guitar sounds right?"

"So! Now I am become death, destroyer of worlds! Uh... Not sure how to feel about this? Surely I done good?"

As Death-Alonzo flies off into the sky... The previous levels pass by, and all the monsters, orcs and ogres you dispatched are returned to life! Some even have families, wives and children to embrace them with joy!

Karbokarr: wow, undoing all the damage DueyDecimal: It was... All worth it?

"Master of Mood Whiplash!" She watches in awe, and also in 'awww!' "What a nice way to end a gruesome slaughterfest! Not at all what I expected but I'm not complaining!"

Finally the Death Master lands in front of a grave with piles of fresh earth and pauses. Then he drops to one knee, head hung.

[THE DEATH MASTER CAN UNDO ANY DEATH IT HAS CAUSED.] [GOOD NEWS. IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT.]

"I... I.. I didn't want feels, don't do this to me"

"Aw hell, who's in the ground? Mom? Dad? Brother? Sister?? Was there an intro I skipped???"

Syrupentine: T___T aroseahorseboy: not much plot till the end but GEEZ

"If you guys picked up on something I missed lemme know. But..damn. Did we kill everyone and revive them for nothing?"

Syrupentine: I don't think there was any clue beforehand, no HNV: Maybe you were trying to clear your name? Or... no, if you can only revive things YOU killed, that would prove you did it DueyDecimal: You thought you were guilty but you weren't... Yay?