#they abandoned that shit to save the earth

[clowningaroundmars]

thanks to the amazing @starcut-sand for the inspo, i now present to you all... a new multi-chapter adventure! this time featuring our beloved gwen stacy and miles42 :)

no, it's not a ship fic lol but i hope to keep you all entertained nonetheless

this one will update much faster since i've plotted it all out and have drafts written already. so stay tuned for new updates coming soon!

general content warnings: canon-typical violence, mentions of blood, kidnapping, drugs, poisoning, death, bullets and explosions, teenagers being teenagers

without further ado, let's get into it!

part 1 of 4 >>

Gwen woke up in a small, dark room not knowing how much time had passed since she was knocked out cold.

And she knew she was knocked out cold, of course, because even she knew never to take a cat-nap in the middle of a mission.

That she was on currently… if memory served her correctly.

Slowly, painstakingly-- with knives in her ribs and her left shoulder still sore from her earlier encounter-- she sat up. Flicked through her watch to make double-sure that the migraine throbbing in her brain wasn’t tricking her into a vivid hallucination of some kind.

Earth-42 stared right back at her, bright green digital letters dancing and blurring in and out right before her very eyes. When she reached up to touch her forehead in a spot that itched, her glove came away with a bit of dried blood on the white fabric.

Shit.

Gwen could not let Jessica down under any circumstances, especially since this was her first mission since… well, since Miles Morales from earth-1610 came in and single-handedly caused the collapse of the Spider Society as everyone knew it.

Which wasn’t really a bad thing in the end, but it did mean that poor Jess had to step up as the leader shortly after Miguel was forcibly dethroned.

“I’m the interim leader right now,” she would say to anyone who called her “boss” or “CEO” or any variation of the word. The poor woman already had enough on her plate as it was with a newborn and a new family life to tend to, so Gwen understood 100%.

It was also why the pressure was on her shoulders to complete this one tiny, manageable task that was given to her.

Gwen wasn’t stupid. She knew she was on a sort of probationary period after her first blunder on earth-1610. And the fact that she turned her back on the Society to break a couple of rules, help Miles, save the multiverse... well, all of that didn't help matters much.

She ignored the looks cast her way every now and then by other Spiders when visiting HQ, but she knew. She tallied up those glances whether anyone knew of it or not.

But then there was also the stupid feeling of… sentimentality hanging in the air, keeping her chained to the Society when most of her other Spider friends had already abandoned the group.

Yeah, her relationship with her father was… repaired, for the most part. But damn it if she didn’t take a liking to Jessica Drew, too! Sue her.

So here she was, on a mission to visit earth-42 and investigate an anomaly that seemed to threaten the very fabric of space and time. Again.

Gwen was already starting to regret her very dumb, not-very-well-thought out decision to volunteer for this one, though.

No time to complain right now though. We’ve got a problem to solve, Gwen mused, forcing her annoyance, frustration, and panic deep down for the moment.

Her aching brain switched over to Work Mode once again, and she immediately slid into compartmentalizing and sorting every bit of detail that she could manage to remember in the present moment.

Her head was bleeding and throbbing, which meant she sustained a brain injury of some kind. She wobbled unsteadily to her feet, wiggling them and checking on her balance. Her head complained louder, but she seemed to be able to walk just fine.

Okay. Good. It wasn’t a bad injury-- and if it was, it seemed her enhanced healing factor already took care of the majority of it in her sleep.

Alright, time to examine her surroundings now.

While she did so, she found it pretty irritating that while her injury didn’t put her out of commission, it seemed to wipe her entire short-term memory instead.

She eventually sat down on a crate in the corner of the room that she was imprisoned in and with her head in her hands, started sorting even harder through her mental files.

… Nothing.

Well, nothing past the memory of flying through the designated portal she opened back in Jess’s office shortly after receiving her mission assignment. And then landing on top of a familiar-but-not-so-familiar building on earth-42's Brooklyn.

She vaguely remembered the late evening sunset, almost choked out by the various plumes of smoke reaching up to the heavens from the fires that still raged on in parts of the city.

... And then? Nothing else.

Gwen remembered how it was like when earth-1610’s Miles-- her Miles-- ended up in this strange world for the first time, a time that seemed like it was eons ago to Gwen, but couldn’t have been more than a few months ago. The fires were much more numerous, news helicopters everywhere and crime seemingly never-ending.

She couldn’t speak on the crime rates per se, but the place looked a little bit less like the mess she and her Spider Band stumbled into at first.

She distinctly remembered thinking to herself-- before swinging down and heading towards the reports of the anomalies-- that she was glad that the Prowlers seemed to get some things under control. If it was them battling the crime in the first place, that is.

But now there was no time for such thoughts. Wherever the Prowlers happened to be now, they were most likely nowhere near her location. Calling Miles-42 up on her watch would be… distasteful, especially this early in the game.

Especially when she had no idea if he was even available or not. Hm. Maybe she should’ve let Jess ping him and let him know of her arrival as per the usual protocol, but. Oh well.

Too late for that now.

So she stood up again, massaged her shoulder and rolled her neck, and blinked the stars out of her eyes. Time to get to work, for real this time.

She eventually happened upon a door that seemed to lead to the outside, which was really well-hidden against the four walls that enclosed her inside.

The room she was held in wasn’t very big, but it was dark. There was only one tiny little window high up near the ceiling that offered a glimpse up into the night sky beyond.

So it was well past sunset… better than not knowing anything at all, right?

The exit was seemingly hard to get out of, unfortunately. Try as she might, Gwen’s strength alone couldn’t get the giant metal door open. She pushed and pulled on the edges, tried sliding it left and right, tried kicking at it. It didn’t budge.

Whoever trapped her in this… storage closet seemed to know exactly what they were doing, who they were dealing with… whoever they happened to be.

Sinister laughing echoed in the back of her mind as she recalled her run-in with the bad guy but… couldn’t for the life of her remember who he was! So frustrating!

Still, this was earth-42. The baddie could’ve been anyone at all, anyone from the Sinister Six Cartel that she knew still held power on the streets here.

Even with their power slowly slipping from their collective grasps, it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that one of those assholes still owned a high-security compound out in the middle of nowhere. It also wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility for one of them to have enough tranquilizers to knock out ten elephants, and use that drug on her to drag her out here.

For all Gwen knew, she was probably miles and miles away from Brooklyn, too. Just great.

No time to despair. Time to concentrate.

Okay, so she couldn’t really get past this gigantic metal door that seemed to be made of some titanium alloy or whatever. That left the small space up high on the wall that probably served as ventilation for the room, only sporting thick metal bars to prevent things from getting in… or out.

Gwen quickly scaled the wall and eyed the dimensions of the space before deciding that if she got the metal grating off of the concrete wall, she might be able to squeeze her shoulders through and possibly achieve freedom.

Assuming as well, of course, that the security in this building was easy to get past.

But she would rather take her chances with evil police-drones and bumbling goons than sit another minute in this prison waiting to see who exactly captured her.

Gwen got to work, using her super-strength to painstakingly detach the grates corner by corner, trying to stay as quiet as possible. She bent a few bars in the process, but what was a little property damage to a Spiderperson? No big deal.

If the bad guy who kidnapped me wanted his compound to be spotless and damage-free, he shouldn’t have kidnapped me in the first place, Gwen reasoned.

After what felt like hours, the grating was off. She was free! Now all she had to do was--

Gwen’s heart almost leaped out of her throat and into her mask when glowing purple and white eyes suddenly came into view. They narrowed into slits.

“Jesus Chr--!!! What the…” her brain fully booted up this time, taking a second to stare right back into the glowing eyes of...

“Miles?” She gasped, once it hit her.

The glowing eyes blinked once before finally nodding at her. He raised a metal claw to his mask’s mouth in a universally-recognizable gesture.

Shhhhh.

Gwen’s own giant white eyes blinked back at him before shifting out of the way to allow Miles to extend a begauntleted arm into the room through the window and shoot out… something.

A spark of purple lit the room up, and shortly after, a clattering of glass and plastic resonated through the room before the place fell deathly quiet once more.

“There was a camera in there with you, most likely recording audio, too,” Miles offered as an explanation.

“… Oh. Well, thanks.” Gwen said awkwardly.

So she was wrong. Somehow, in the middle of the night in this odd prison she woke up in, Miles Morales happened to find her anyhow.

She wasn’t used to… this other Miles, and they hadn’t spoken much after their first meeting months ago.

He would join the Spider Band on their own missions sparingly. As far as she knew, only 1610’s Miles hung out with him with any sort of regularity. The kid was a complete mystery to everyone else otherwise, and whenever he was brought up around 1610, the topic was usually brushed off as casually as possible.

Gwen had no clue why 42’s Miles didn’t seem to take a liking to any of the members of their little motley crew. She figured he probably had a hard time keeping up with super-powered heroes and just left it at that, even though from what she could see of their encounters-- however far and few between they were-- the kid seemed to have talent. He was able to keep up with them on most days without barely breaking a sweat.

So all in all, a total mystery to her. Even if this guy shared the same face as her best friend and ally Miles Morales, he... moved differently. Acted differently. Like Miles Morales, but in a different font.

He started to shimmy his shoulders into the room to get past the tight constraints of the window. Gwen stared at him with a cocked head the entire time.

He used his sneakers to cling onto the wall for a little bit, reaching right back out of the window once inside. He pulled in a backpack through the opening and promptly dropped down onto the cold hard floor of the room.

“Uh, hi? Wait. Weren’t we supposed to both escape through that window instead of you, y’know, coming inside?”

Miles-- well, 42--shook his head as he threw his pack back on in one swift motion. “I checked the perimeters, and we’re a long, long ways away from the city. Even if we managed to get past the millions of goons and cameras everywhere, they got dogs doing night shifts out in the woods.”

Gwen’s heart sank. Shit. Her earlier thoughts were coming true. They were far away from Brooklyn, which complicated their escape plans even more.

“I mean… ugh, I-- we can climb the trees! Right? If we just--”

“The guards, Gwen. They got guns loaded up with bullets. But you know what I got? A plan.”

Gwen blinked back at 42 yet again. “You do?”

42 took confident steps back as he put some distance between them and then triple-tapped the side of his mechanical mask. Gwen watched with awe as the front of the mask sectioned itself up and off of his head, revealing a laser-focused expression on Miles’ handsome face-- er, his regular, normal, totally-not-good-looking face!

From somewhere on his mask, a bright purple hologram was projected between them, suspended in mid-air. The lights cast the entire room in a hazy purple glow.

The hologram projected a 3D blueprint-like map of the entire building-- all 5 stories of it. Each floor was meticulously detailed, down to the various entrances and exits and relative dimensions of the many, many rooms the building held.

42 tapped his mask again, this time on the chin, and a maze-like structure materialized, all of it hovering on top of each other and weaving themselves in between the floors… a maze-like structure that seemed very, very familiar.

“Vents!” Gwen snapped her fingers once she recognized them. “You have the blueprints of all the ventilation shafts in the building!”

42 nodded, the projection bobbing along with his movements. “Yeah, I do. I’m a Prowler, right? We always stay prepared.”

Gwen squinted at him. “I guess...? How’d you get stuck in this place if you’re always prepared, then? Did you get kidnapped too?”

“Nah,” 42 answered easily, a corner of his mouth quirking up for a split second, “I followed you here.”

Gwen blinked at him for what seemed to be the umpteenth time. "What."

42 sighed. “You got knocked out by this dimension’s Doctor Octopus. He threw you into the back of a van and ordered his goon squad to bring you back up here, to a secret location he’s got surrounded by energy dampeners and signal blockers. Most likely? He knows you’re not from this dimension and wants to experiment on you. But me? I’m here ‘cause me and my uncle have been lookin’ for this place for months. It’s… top-secret, this compound. Classified.”

“Oh. How did… how did you know he’d bring me to the place you and your uncle have been looking for this whole time? What if he brought me to another building?”

42 smirked, the purple lights of the holograms twinkling in his eyes. “Doc’s assets are being… uh, slowly compromised by us with the underground resistance. Not many places for him to throw his unwilling science experiments into nowadays.”

So it wasn’t just Gwen’s imagination. This dimension really has been steadily cleaned up by the Prowlers and their freedom-fighting allies. Well, that was good to hear. Still didn’t provide much relief for their current situation considering this was Doctor Octopus they were talking about here, but it was still nice to know.

“Well. That’s great to hear, then. What’s the rest of your plan, after ducking out of here through the vents?”

42’s mask re-formed back onto his face and the glowing purple and white eyes came back online. “We’re not ducking through the vents. Well, yet. I came here on my own mission and I gotta complete it before leaving.”

Gwen sighed softly. “Which would be...?”

Getting the whole story out of this version of Miles was like pulling teeth! Was it always going to be like this? Because if so, this wasn’t going to be a very easy mission to pull off after all.

“I can get you out of here first, if you want,” 42 glowered at her, voice distorting behind his mask’s voice-changing technology. His tone seemed impatient, too. “I can stay behind ‘til I’m done.”

Gwen shifted her weight onto one leg. “No, not a chance. I have to stay here and make sure Doc Ock doesn’t turn you into minced meat. Plus, you’re the one who has all the blueprints and cool glowing tech thingies. I’m sticking with you until we can both get out of here!”

This seemed to satisfy 42, because he gave her one unreadable nod in her direction. “… If you’re sure, then let’s go.”

He moved swiftly, much more gracefully than Gwen was used to seeing a Miles move. He walked almost silently, crouching down near one side of the wide metal sliding door thing that Gwen was trying to unsuccessfully pry open earlier.

He reached back into his gear that was saddled on his back and pulled out what seemed to be a small metal object with tiny purple lights on the outer edge. It attached itself onto the door and then 42 was sliding a hidden panel that Gwen had completely missed.

Gwen eventually sidled up to him and clasped her hands behind her back. “I see we’re sticking real well to the branding here. Purple lights, purple holograms… very cool,” was her lame attempt at lightening the mood.

“Yeah, it’s a family thing,” 42 muttered as he worked on… what seemed like some electrical circuitry built into the door. It glowed a soft green. “Been passed down for a couple of generations.”

Gwen hummed. “Oh, I see.”

A beat of silence as 42 continued his work.

Gwen checked her watch once more as she leaned on a wall. “Soooo… should I be doing something while you… y’know…?”

“Yeah, you should be quiet.” 42 answered.

“Ouch.” Gwen replied back as flatly as she could. “Look. I don’t wanna step all on your toes or anything while you do this whole… Prowling thing, but we’re a two-man team here! I’m at the very least trying to make conversation,”

“Okay, sure,” 42 replied easily, never taking his eyes off of his task. “Why are you in my dimension in the first place? Since you like to talk so much, maybe you can tell me that.”

Gwen sighed loudly. Great. Here she was trapped in a bad guy’s compound in the middle of who-knows-where, with the meanest Miles in the entirety of the multiverse. Just her luck.

“I was sent here on a mission. By Jessica. You know, the other other Spiderwoman? Who’s now in charge of the Spider Society, by the way? Yeah, we detected anomalies here in this dimension and she sent me to check it out. But… well, I kinda already screwed that up so I guess I can go and kiss my Society membership goodbye for good this time. Happy?”

42 glanced up at her then, his mask as unreadable as ever, the darkness enshrouding much of his body language. He slowly stood up and backed up, silently gazing at Gwen all the while.

She stood there glaring at him with her arms crossed.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m happy.” 42 finally replied coolly. “Now keep quiet, we don’t know if there are guards out here on patrol. My mask is still calibrating its infrared heat sensors so I can’t see ‘em yet.”

Infrared heat sensors? God, is this kid packed to the teeth with high-tech spy gadgetry or what?

Gwen begrudgingly did as she was told, taking a couple of steps back as 42 lowered the brightness of his mask’s glow.

The door rumbled open with a mechanic hum, and that’s when it hit her; Gwen couldn’t have possibly gotten the door open by herself, because it wasn’t just locked… it was hooked up to a main power source and sealed that way.

Damn. Looks like she really did need to rely on this guy to escape this place, after all.

Well then.

They poked their heads out of the dark room and quietly surveyed the expansive maze-like hallways of the compound. Pipes running the entire length of the ceiling as far as they could see told them both everything they needed to know.

42 took a quick step back to update his mask’s digital blueprint and map out exactly where they were.

Gwen glanced back at him. “What’re you doing now?”

“I'm marking where we are...” He then drops his voice to a near whisper, eyes still methodically scanning the area around them. "This compound's built into the side of a steep hill, which is how I climbed in. We must be on the north side, then."

He tapped his mechanical claws on the tip of his chin and started thinking aloud. “Which means… what I’m lookin’ for has to be underneath the ground, towards the south. I’m lookin’ for a room not on the blueprints. And... and I think I know exactly where to start.”

“You think you know? I thought you had a plan!”

“I do,” 42 threw back. “An escape plan. But you’re stickin’ with me, so now we’re gonna do some Prowlering. Unless you changed your mind?”

Oh, right. This game. Well, this kid wasn’t getting rid of her that easily, that was for sure.

“Oh no, no. Just making sure you’re capable of getting out of here, is all,” she offered innocently.

42 might’ve rolled his eyes behind his mask, but it was hard to tell.

Together, they moved through the halls as silently as possible, straining their ears for any sign of human life-- or robot life, really-- as they quickly made their way down several wide corridors.

All of the halls started blurring together since they all looked completely identical to Gwen, save for the numbers on the various doors they passed by changing and getting smaller as they advanced.

After several minutes had passed, Gwen wanted to open her mouth and ask 42 where exactly they were heading to since it didn’t seem like their trip was even coming anywhere close to an end, when he suddenly grabbed her and pulled her around a corner they had just walked past seconds earlier.

Gwen made a slight noise of confusion and then sucked in a breath when the sound of metal clanging and machines whirring echoed all around them. 42 was closest to the corner, head turned over to where she suspected the intruders were coming from.

Sure enough, a pair of heavy work boots stamped gracelessly down the halls and the casual back-and-forth between the men that suddenly came into view could be heard more clearly.

“… Can’t believe he’s got us down here working doubles now, man! Sucks,” one of the men grumbled as they made their way past the two vigilantes and opened yet another giant metal door with a keycard.

Gwen’s vision zeroed in on it as the man reached behind him to tuck it back into his pocket, and her split-second reflexes allowed her to time her web just right.

She snagged the card and held a breath as the door whirred shut right behind the men, both of them none the wiser.

“Whew,” she said after a second of tense waiting, and smirked at 42 who held a metal claw out for the keycard. “Look who’s got a plan now! Aren't you glad I stuck around?”

42 chuckled, the sound warbling slightly under his voice modulator. “Yeah, that was pretty cool. I can admit that. Now that we got this, we might be able to use it to get into the room I wanna get into once we find it.”

“Right,” Gwen pipes up once they continue their descent deeper into the bowels of the compound, “about that. You never told me what it is that you came here to find. In fact, you’ve been pretty cagey this entire time. Like, about everything.”

42 made an undecipherable sound. “Uh, yeah. This is my recon mission, not yours. You’re not even from this dimension, this doesn’t really concern you.”

Gwen grunted. “Gee thanks. If that’s how you feel, then I’ll be having my keycard back!”

42 shook his head and laughed. “I didn’t mean it like that, man. I meant… just don’t worry about it. It’s info we’re looking for to eventually take down Doc Ock. If I said it out loud here, it might jeopardize this whole thing me and Aaron have planned. I'm in work mode right now, I'm sure you get it,”

Gwen relaxed a bit more. In a way, she did get it. She even understood 42’s hesitance to have her aboard to work with him, since working on group projects wasn't exactly on her own list of top ten favorite things… especially when the project itself concerned the very fabric of the space-time continuum.

Gwen was a solo hero, and maybe since 42 was here on his own, he finally graduated into being a solo hero, too.

Actually, on that topic…

“Does your… does your uncle know you’re here, then? If he does, maybe he can help us get out of here?”

42 helped himself to a healthy pause. “Yes, and no. Aaron’s not… here, near the compound. But he does know I’m out on a mission.”

Gwen stared at him. “Sooo… call him? I’m sure he can get past security, right?”

42 laughed yet again, shaking his head. “Guess you didn’t hear me back in the other room when I told you there are blockers all over this compound, huh.”

Gwen cocked an eyebrow at him and their lenses met.

“What I mean is,” 42 continues, “tech down here doesn’t work very well due to all the interference the Doc’s put up to conceal this place. Again, top secret. Super classified. My own mask took a little while to come back online, and some stuff is still… coming back online. Kinda."

“And your communicators wouldn’t happen to also be on the fritz, would they?” Gwen asked, fully knowing the answer she was going to get.

“Mmnnyep, communicator’s offline. I dunno what the hell Doc’s got this place running on, but it’s not electricity. I’m not too concerned about the details, though,”

Here, they came up to a wide metal door marked in bright caution-tape stripes with several warnings plastered on its surface.

“... ’Cause I got my eyes on the prize,” 42 finished, swaggering up to the door’s keycard panel and successfully getting the thing to slide open.

They both fell into fighting stances in case anything behind the door leapt out at them and attacked, but… there was no one and nothing in the spacious cave-like room beyond it.

Nothing except… a humongous collider!

Gwen gasped as she lowered her fists and advanced forward, making her way over thick wires and past computers to get closer to the giant dimension-ripping machine in the center of the room.

It looked… not quite as high-tech as the one in her dimension, or Miles’-- er, 1610’s collider, that is-- but it was completely unmistakable. The form never changes, neither through space nor through time. It was indeed a collider built by none other than the infamous Doctor Octopus, even if it didn’t quite look as close to being complete.

There were still various wires draped on ladders near the edge of the lab, scissor-lifts located below the platforms parked for the night, and several components were missing that seemed to lay underneath odd-looking bulgy sheets on top of several tables nearby. Gwen made her way over to a computer and woke it up, balking at the password-locked screen in front of her eyes.

Damnit. Damnit! It wasn’t just an anomaly that the Society managed to detect… it was the energy signals from this collider, most likely having gone through some initial tests before advancing to this final stage of construction.

If this was it, then Gwen needed to get back to Jess with this information ASAP!

She fiddled with her watch a bit, but it still looked to be on the fritz somehow, not letting her switch to any other dimension or access the other features Hobie had installed into it. Weird.

She straightened up and glanced behind her, hoping that 42 had some kind of tech or knowledge that would help crack this computer open so she could take a look through the files to gauge just how far along this little pet project was… only to find that she was alone.

... Alone?

"Miles?"

Silence. Her heart jumpstarted a bit and started hammering away in her chest as she hurriedly made her way past rows of tables, science equipment, and computer screens of all sizes, only to find a pair of legs sticking out from underneath a weird car-shaped machine set aside in the corner of the gigantic lab.

She stood there for a bit with her hands on her hips, quieting her thoughts and watching as 42 tinkered away at whatever the hell he was tinkering away at.

She eventually kicked a purple Jordan gently and smiled bemusedly at 42 shuffling his way out from under the machine.

“Having fun down there?” She said as casually as she could manage.

42’s mask was off slightly, still framing his face, but now Gwen could see his slightly exasperated expression in full view.

“Yeah, actually, I was.” He gave her a full view of his snarky attitude too, while he was at it.

He laid back down and pushed his way underneath once more.

“Is this gigantic collider in the middle of this room not a huge concern to you at all?”

“Not really.” 42 answered from under the machine.

“Can I ask why? You do know that if the Octopus gets this thing done and booted up, that your entire dimension is at risk of collapsing just like every other dimension that’s had a collider in it before?”

“Really? Ya don't say,” 42 replied sarcastically, clinking and clanking away. The machine rattled a bit. “That’s nowhere near done right now and I gotta prioritize my priorities. I’m getting to root cause of the problem rather than just climbing in here and smashing stuff up.”

“… Are you now?” Gwen deadpanned.

A mighty metallic scraping sound jolted its way through her eardrums suddenly, making Gwen jump slightly. After a second or two, 42 slides out once again with a big sunny grin plastered onto his face, holding up what looks like a small motherboard with a bunch of metal wires still attached to the metal casing it was screwed into. He only wore one gauntlet, she noted.

He quickly took his pack off and got to work inlaying the computer part into a panel in his pack that she had never noticed before.

A total tech marvel that thing was, really. Even Gwen had to make a noise of approval when with a few purposeful jabs and swipes, the whole pack disengaged and unfolded itself open, much like his mask. No tools required.

He made quick work of the task at hand, using one metal gauntlet as a makeshift toolset, his other gloved hand working to set the entire component into the rest of the pack’s inner workings.

Once that seemed to be done, all of the circuitry glowed purple for a beat before going dark once more. 42 tapped at his gauntlet, bringing up more info on the inside of his wrist, which he seemed to approve of.

“All set?” Gwen probed, still standing a little ways away from him, watching as he seemed completely engrossed in his little side-mission.

He reached back under the machine and pulled out his other gauntlet, springing back up once it was in his hands.

“Yeah. Better than all set, ‘cause now my pack’s online! I can use my climbing gear again.” At this, 42 unlatches a reel of rope from behind him, his grappling hook dangling on one end as he swings it in circular motions through the air. “Hell yeah,”

Gwen stared at him once again. “Your climbing gear wasn’t working? How did you climb into my window, then?”

42 gave her a bit of side-eye. "I got other gear besides my rope, you know that, right?"

Gwen huffed, clearly annoyed. "No, actually I don't. I've been following you this whole time and you haven't really been saying much at all,"

42’s mask slid back into place as he rolled his shoulders and readjusted his pack. “You ask too many questions,”

“You don’t provide too many answers,” Gwen bit out dryly. “Seriously, dude, we are in the middle of giant evil lair of some kind with no way to communicate with the outside world and you’re swaggering through this whole ordeal like it’s a walk in the park,” she huffs. “Why can’t you just tell me like, anything?”

They’re both face-to-face now, mask-to-mask, very obviously frustrated with each other if the electricity in the air was as thick as it felt.

Two teenagers butting heads in the middle of a giant lab, trapped in the lair of their greatest enemy… it would embarrassing if it wasn’t so absurd, but here they were, glaring each other down anyways.

“I am telling you things, you just don’t listen! Probably ‘cause you think your powers make you all-powerful and omniscient or something, that you think you don't need to listen to a word I'm saying,” 42’s words dripped with venom. “Seriously, staying with me to make sure I don’t get myself killed? Gimme a damn break. If sticking with me is soooo boring and you know more than I do, you can get yourself up out of here, then.”

Gwen bristled. “Listen here, jerk. I never said that I was better than you. Kinda telling on yourself there, don'tcha think?” She jabbed a finger in his direction. “I was perfectly capable of letting myself out before you fell in here and got us all turned around! I had it on my own, I could've gotten myself out of here ages ago!"

“And who’s stopping you?” 42 threw his hands up in the air. “Use your little spider powers to bust up out of here, and just leave!"

Gwen stepped back, seething. With fists clenched by her sides, she shoots 42 more daggers his way, hoping her mask’s lenses would convey the message.

Wordlessly, she turns around and shoots a web up to one of the ventilation grates high up in the cavernous room, sticking to the wall.

She works the grating off while 42’s Jordans pace right out of the room and into another side room, leaving the lab completely silent.

Fine. If that was how things were going to be, then fine. This was hardly the worst situation Gwen’s ever found herself in, and it most likely wasn't going to be over anytime soon. But she’s gotten herself out of stickier conundrums on her own, so this was just going to be yet another one of life’s little tests. Just a bump in the road.

A small, insignificant little bump.

As Gwen quietly seethed and crawled her way through the ventilation shafts (completely blindly, since she didn’t really bother to memorize the absolute maze that was whatever 42 showed her earlier) she came upon a vent opening that overlooked a room filled with monitors and… guards.

It looked to be a security room not too far from the collider room, and the men inside were armored to the teeth, only slipping off their helmets and masks to chat some shit over takeout containers and coffee cups.

The rest of the room was covered in tv monitors that showed various different CCTV camera feeds, all of them stationary. Most of them were pointing to the outside, though, hardly any of the screens showed views from the basement level’s numerous corridors, curiously enough.

Gwen doubted 42’s earlier claim that this building ran on some other form of power, since she didn’t think it would be very economic on the Octopus’ wallet to buy so many cameras and monitors and computers that ran on alternate power sources.

Maybe… if he was wrong… then maybe she could even use her watch to open up a portal in an empty room somewhere and just peace out!

Tell Jess what she found, because by now she’d pretty much done her job. Leave the rest to a more capable task force put together by the Society and just go back to her normal, boring, definitely not eventful life.

But then… as tempting as the thought was… she’d be leaving 42 behind. 42, sure, but a Miles nonetheless… a friend.

From what she could gather, the poor guy had very few friends, if any at all. If he wasn’t communicating to her properly, maybe isolation from his vigilante work was to blame, rather than a fault of his character.

Gwen propped up her chin in one hand and ruminated on all of these thoughts, arguing with herself over whether she should stay or go. She glanced at her cobbled-up watch, a permanent reminder of her best friend Hobie Brown, and laid on her back to mess with it one more time.

Her thoughts sunk down into the bottom of her stomach as she fiddled with it, continuing to get error messages as she tried to scroll through the various dimensions she knows she’s saved to her little watch, coming up with nothing even when she dared to try and open a portal in the middle of the vent shaft.

Nothing, nada. No dice. No portal whatsoever happened to materialize. It gave small sad beeps instead, really hammering home that… she really was on her own this time.

Damn.

Gwen didn’t know why, but this thought kind of depressed her.

At least on previous missions and patrols in her dimension, she was always acutely aware of how much rested on her own shoulders. She always went in with confidence and some sort of game plan, content enough to just let her quick thinking and powers get her out of any fight, any problem.

But ever since landing here on earth-42, she seemed… discombobulated, not entirely in her element. Everything in this dimension seemed to work against her at every single turn.

She’d have to bring that up to the other Spiders, ask if they’ve ever felt anything like she was feeling before.

If she could get out of this building in the first place, that is…

A loud, jarring alarm jolted her violently out of her wandering thoughts, and she almost hit her head on the ceiling of the vent, rolling over quickly to peer down into the room below her.

The guards were pulling helmets and masks on, scrambling up from their previous positions and pouring out of the security room door as quickly as they could.

In the midst of the sudden chaos, Gwen’s wide eyes honed in on one particular screen, which was pointed directly at the collider room’s interior…

... And directly at earth-42’s Miles Morales himself.

[celestialmaison]

vision is giving sci-fi warrior princess…it’s giving dystopia….it’s giving post-apocalypse…it’s giving goddess…it’s giving what the music industry needs…

[probablybadrpgideas]

More unconventional world-threatening disasters for your heroes to fight

The halflings have finally fucking snapped

Unfortunate political loophole gives ravenous ghoul total power, everyone upset at being eaten but insisting they need to respect the process.

World's greatest Archmage is drunk off their ass

There's some guy in a cape with glowing red eyes cackling and waving a skull staff around. He's not explicitly done anything wrong but, like, we kind of assume there must be something going on there. Right?

The blessed artifact that will save the world from the demon invasion has a big spider on it and no-one wants to go near it.

Someone gave the Tarrasque a knife

Every time someone casts a spell the moon comes one inch closer to the earth.

Oh shit the Elves just invented capitalism

Cursed item that will destroy the world if anyone says "rhubarb" near it. No-one knows which item it is.

Fire elemental desperately lonely and coming to the material plane for hugs.

There's one warlock who's just eldritch blasting everyone on the planet one by one, like an asshole.

Poorly considered Elder Evil Vacation Day coming up.

The GM is getting bored, and the PCs must entertain them from within the game lest they abandon the game and render their world non-existence.

[natalievoncatte]

Few moments in Alex’s life would stick out like this one. There was a rising panic in her throat, pulsing against her airway. Panic and grief gripped her like icy hands, working to strangle, and she wasn’t sure if what she choked down was a sob or vomit. Her hands trembled as they held the paper. She hadn’t thought of this.

The letterhead read simply, PAST DUE- FINAL NOTICE.

With everything going on, she’d simply forgotten about the matter until she swung by the loft. She should have sent Kelly, should have set up something earlier to deal with this. Kara was six months behind on her rent and she was going to be evicted if she didn’t pay.

Which she never would.

Alex had quietly accepted, about a month ago, that Kara wasn’t coming home, that all their methods had been exhausted, that her sister was lost in an infinite, shattered Phantom Zone, never to be found. She’s finally gotten the martyrdom that she’d been unknowingly seeking since she arrived on Earth.

She was keeping it bottled up, because the others still believed, even Brainy, who had to know the odds.

Alex seethed with a towering rage. There were some nights when, lying awake in Kelly’s arms, she’d fantasize about how she’d punish Clark for failing Kara, or what she’d do to Lex Luthor if she got her hands on him. Sometimes it would even be J’onn she raged at, or Lena.

She saved them all so many times, threw her life and body and soul in front of all them as a shield and took on their misery and suffering on top of her own, and though it was like drops cast in the ocean of Kara Zor-El’s grief, she felt every blow, every loss. Alex’s falling tears stained the letter as she thought of every time Kara paced this apartment, excoriating herself for her failures whenever she couldn’t be in five disasters at once.

Alex didn’t want her to be a superhero. She didn’t want that need to throw herself between others and their own suffering to consume Kara’s life, but it had.

Not for the first time, Alex wished that Kara had just stayed on the ground and let her plane crash. It was a selfish, hateful impulse. Kara would never have let it happen and even if she had, something would have prompted her to put on that red and blue costume and fly. It was what she was for.

Alex raged anyway. Fuck that little shit Wynn for making her a costume. The little pervert probably just wanted to make her try shit on to see her half naked. Fuck J’onn for recruiting her, fuck Clark for abandoning her… and… and…

The paper crumpled and so did Alex, sobbing. This was all her fault. If only…

“Alex?”

She hadn’t heard Lena come in. She’d long ago given up heels. Hell, shed given up. She was a wearing a hoodie that Alex knew was Kara’s and her hair was in a loose ponytail at the base of her neck, and if asked when she last ate or sleep, she’d have lied. Alex already knew the answer: she ate when someone remembered to feed her and she slept on a cot in her lab as she tortured herself.

Lena was the only one that Alex couldn’t rage at because Lena was already punishing herself. Kara would be furious if she knew how they were letting Lena treat her health.

Without a word, Lena gently grasped the letter and Alex released it.

Lena read it, frowning.

Then she pulled out her phone.

“Jess, I have a task for you. I’m going to send you a pic of an eviction letter. I want you to pay off the back rent.”

“Lena,” Alex began.

Lena waved her off.

“I want the building. Set up some shell companies. No one can know it’s me. Try to negotiate so it looks legit, but they can name their price. I want it done by tonight.”

Lena hung up.

“This is her place,” Lena said, softly.

“You didn’t have to do that,” said Alex.

“Yes, I did. This is her place. She deserves to come back to it,” Lena dropped onto the sofa beside her. “I will never give up. I don’t care if I’m still trying to bring her home when I’m old and gray, it’ll be worth it to see her one more time.”

Alex felt a wave of grief overwhelming her.

“Besides,” Lena forced cheer into her voice. “I spent a billion dollars so I could hang out with her at work. What’s an apartment building?”

Alex jolted. It was as if she watched a wine glass, which had toppled and shattered and cast its contents across the floor, leap back into position. As if the shards of crystal returned to their proper places and the cracks sealed, and the wine splashed back to its proper place, not a single shimmering golden drop lost. When the understanding snapped into place, it was like a lightning bolt. She felt too large for her skin, and the fine hairs at the back of her neck stood, as though bearing a charge.

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Lena was in love with Kara.

She could see it now. The love radiated from every pore of Lena’s skin, undulled by the grief that draped her like a nighted cloak, as gold shimmered untarnished beneath dust. Alex’s heart was about to break again.

“I have to get back to the lab.”

“Why are you here?” Alex said, softly.

“I was… I’ve been spending the night. I should have asked. I’m sorry.”

“Kara would want you to.”

Kara would want you to move on, Alex thought. She would want you to find someone and be happy and think only of her in fond memories. She would gladly martyr herself for you, too. You above all. She never stopped defending you even when…

Now there were two wine glasses, side by side, almost touching but not quite, promising a toast unsaid.

Oh.

Oh God.

Alex launched off the couch and threw her arms around Lena, holding her tight. Lena recoiled a little; she seemed to dislike hugs, almost like she didn’t understand them, even as she’d melted in Kara’s embrace dozens of times.

How had she been so blind?

“We’ll get her back,” Alex said.

“We will,” said Lena.

Later, Alex stood off to the side, her veins singing with unbridled joy after Kara released her from a full on, no-powers bear hug. She watched as the others embraced her and slapped her back and welcomed her home while Lena stared at here like she couldn’t believe she was real.

Limping, haggard, Kara suffered their joys with quiet reserve, pushing a little closer to her ultimate destination with each one until she stood in front of Lena.

The hug was awkward, tentative, but Kara thrust herself into it after a hesitant moment and Lena molded against her, the pair standing cheek to cheek a beat too long. Lena pulled back and Kara pulled after her, leaning in, only to dance back and do that awkward little shift.

“Kara,” Alex blurted. “For fuck’s sake, just do it.”

Kara looked at her, wide-eyed and a little betrayed. Kara was beyond honest to a fault: Alex knew that after Kara nervously told her about the infamous “I flew here on a bus “ incident. Kara was honest to the core of her very being, sickened by the act of lying.

To Alex’s surprise, it was Lena’s hands on Kara’s shoulders that turned her away. Kara looked back and her and Lena brought her hands to Kara’s cheeks, resting her palms against the abnormally pale skin of her face. Kara froze for two heartbeats and then gently put her hands on Lena’s sides and pulled her in, there bodies slotting together as their lips found one another, Kara leaning over Lena a little more with the added height of her boots as Lena collapsed into her, tears glittering on her cheeks. The kiss carried on until Alex cleared her throat.

Everyone in the room was stunned save Alex.

“Guys,” she said, “let’s give them a little privacy, huh? We can celebrate later.”

As the others filed out of the room, Lena raised her head from where it had lain on Kara’s shoulder and mouthed a silent thank you.

[jimothyhalperts]

Okay, so I’m on my second watch of s2 and I think people are really being too harsh on Aziraphale. Here’s the receipts:

1 - He said to Metatron that he didn’t want to go back to heaven, he only accepted the job after Metatron said he could take Crowley with him

2 - When Crowley says “If Gabriel and Belzebu can go off together, then we can [...].We need to get away from them, just be an us. You and me.”, Aziraphale answers “Come with me to heaven. [...] We can make a difference.[...] We can be together, angels, doing good.” He is not rejecting Crowley nor the idea of them being together, he is rejecting the idea of doing nothing to make things better. He’s saying “let’s be an us in heaven, where we can be together and look after this planet that we both love instead of abandoning it”

(Of course that he is seeing heaven through rose-tinted glasses, but this is a whole different rant)

3 - The dialogue in the book shop is very similar to S1 when Crowley say they can go off together and let the Armageddon happen: While Crowley wants to run away and save them both, Aziraphale wants to try saving Earth, the only difference is that now Aziraphale recognizes that he needs Crowley and wants to be with Crowley.

4 - Just before EVERY, Crowley says “You idiot, we could have been us”, Aziraphale turns away from him to cry. In this scene I believe they are both thinking the same thing “He might even want to be with me but only on his terms.” 

5 - The “I FORGIVE YOU” scene, he meant “I forgive you for not wanting to come with me and trying to change my mind, instead breaking my heart even more”

Aziraphale LOVES Earth and will try to do everything to save it and he knows Crowley loves Earth too, they are not Gabriel and Belzebu who never cared for Earth nor humans. He knows Crowley didn’t want to work for Hell anymore and that he is good and he can finally do good without being punished.

Crowley (and the viewers) has a much clearer and realistic vision of how things work, because heaven has already betrayed him. He doesn’t want to go back there because he already knows all of its flaws. 

Crowley is a realist (and a bit of a pessimist), he believes Earth will end because heaven and hell cannot be trusted, so the best solution is to run away while they can.

 Aziraphale is an idealistic, he is going to heaven, he is going to fix the system, Earth will be happy and safe forever, Crowley will realize that and go to heaven after him and they will live happily ever after. 

SO WHEN Metatron said about the second coming Aziraphale REALIZED Crowley was right about heaven, but he still had to try to save Earth instead of taking the easy way out.

SO STOP TALKING SHIT ABOUT THE ANGEL, HE LOVES CROWLEY AND LOVES EARTH AND IS JUST TRYING TO SAVE EVERYONE

[zo3mess]

Bitter-sweet

Summary: Officers from other towns were reassigned to help the understaffed police force in Evergreen after the butterfly massacre. The good old game of cat and mouse begins with Vigilante continuing his shenanigans and one police officer determined to catch him. Except it is not entirely clear who is chasing whom.

Warnings: 18+, smut, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t be stupid and use protection guys), blood play, gun play (but not really) enemies to enemies with benefits type of relationship, violence, dead bodies, alcohol consumption, foul language. Female reader and no use of Y/N.

Word count: 5.4k (my hand slipped, I’m sorry) 

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Extra songs for this fic

Masterlist of my works

Note: I realized I missed writing so much since I don’t write essays in school anymore and I got quite a positive reaction on my last work Laundry girl (I love you guys fr). This time I tried something different? I feel like this is messier than the last one, lousy idea, but you know how it is. Also I have never written smut before, so get ready for some weird shit. English is not my first language, I apologize for mistakes, especially with tenses. Criticism is very much welcomed! Thank you for every like, reblog and comment, it makes me all giddy whenever I get a notification <3

The Project Butterfly was a case that shocked everyone. Aliens invading Earth? Shady business with convicts led by Waller? Something that shocked you personally was the sudden disappearance of whole police precinct in Evergreen. Whole town ended up with no cops and needed help. Which was a great opportunity for you to start up.

Your dream? Gotham. City swarmed with villains. You needed to prove you’re tough enough for catching real supervillains. Where better to start than Evergreen? You agreed to relocate there to help, however your real target was Vigilante.

Some people said that what he was doing was good, catching criminals and ending their lives before they could do it again. But no one deserves to be above law and deciding fate of souls that can still reach redemption. Even if he helped saved the world from alien invasion.

So many times you saw him creeping through the streets late at night, but never managing to get close enough. After a few encounters, he realized you were specifically after him. A fan who kept a close eye on his work.

And since then, he started taunting you. Leaving a big V with the blood of his victims for you, quite few times even turning the signature letter into a heart. And they say romance is dead.

One night when you were stumbling home back from a bar, you heard weird sounds coming from an alleyway next to an abandoned store. Nothing out of the ordinary you would think, but it sounded like someone was in pain. You would be a bad cop to not help someone in need, no matter if it was past your working hours.

With caution you walked over there, lamp lights did a shitty job illuminating the streets, but you were able to recognize a body laying on the ground. Blood was seeping from under the man who was killed by a clear headshot, judging by the injuries you were able to see.

Quiet shuffling and groaning was audible from a distance. The realization that something is very wrong came far too late. Before you could even recognize what was happening a stranger pulled you around the corner and your yelp was muffled by a gloved hand.

“Shhhh shhh. It’s just me.” Vigilante. As if that made it any better. “If I remove my hand, will you scream?”

Decisions, decisions. You were more likely to punch him in the face rather than scream, but if he just killed the guy, it wasn’t smart to start a fight with someone riding on adrenaline and someone who is far more ready to fight. You would not cause much damage in high heels, short dress and still tipsy from the bar.

Eventually you shook your head, and he removed his hand from your face. Uncomfortable silence filled the air. Should you even ask what happened?

You searched for his eyes behind the red visor, until you noticed he was staring down. Was he…

“Are you staring at my tits?’’

“Your heart is beating really fast.” A simple observation that mesmerized him. He also wasn’t completely calm, quite the opposite. Since you disrupted his hunt so abruptly. Before you came he had been planning on drawing a nice big V on the floor for you, a greeting he sent you every time he left a corpse behind him.

A gloved hand made its way to your cleavage, pressing his hand against your skin to feel it rise and fall with every shallow breath you took. Your wide eyes followed his bold move, you felt the warmth of his body and it was making you feel insane.

All this time in Evergreen you focused on getting near to Vigilante, to catch him and serve some justice for reckless behavior, for playing God. And now he was closer than ever, even daring to touch you without a doubt in his head, it made your brain circuit.

You noticed he started to breathe faster too, his chest piece was rising with every deep inhale, and even in the low light of the street lamp you saw a dark stain on his mask. It did not take long before he rolled up the bottom half of his mask in exhaustion. No wonder he had trouble breathing when blood was flowing from his nose onto his lips that did not look exactly intact too.  Must have been a heavy fight.

“Not so fast on your feet now, huh?”  You had to mock him for it of course. All this time he was counting on his swiftness, it finally caught up to him.

“Shut up.” Vigilante tried to wipe the blood off his face with his wrist, groaning as he did so. Simultaneously you were taking a mental note that he was in fact comfortable with showing you the bottom half of his face. What was in your head an investigation of a target, he saw as blunt staring.

For a moment you two kept ogling each other. You took interest in the little human part he showed you, bloody puffy lips, clean-shaven jaw and few moles on his cheeks all felt surreal after all this time you saw him as a simple masked head with a red visor. Vigilante on the other had studied your eyes, how bright they suddenly looked, how they gazed at him with curiosity and most importantly how they kept flicking to his lips. He was no genius but a voice inside his head told him there was a tad more to this.

Something about stopping the alien invasion made him bolder, more confident, most of the time he felt like king of the world. Of course, people that knew him as Adrian Chase, a dorky weirdo, had no idea he basically saved the world. But you knew and he loved it.

You saw him as a villain, or at least desperately wanted him to be, and Adrian saw himself as hero of Evergreen. Heroes always get the girl, right? That’s how it should go.

He suddenly pressed his lips against yours, releasing a low painful groan when your noses got smushed. Hands dropped to your waist to pull you closer and yours found their way to his chest. Finally there was an opportunity to touch the expensive suit.

Vigilante pulled away before you could kiss him back. Maybe the alcohol made you much more reckless than you thought. “You taste bitter.” He commented and licked his lips. Was it that surprising? Considering you rocked a perfect sour face every time anyone even mentioned his name.

“I’ve been drinking gin and tonic at the bar.” Immediately as you explained your bitter lips and his bloody ones got connected once again in a far hungrier kiss. Regrets of tomorrow will be ringing in your ears for days. Will you be able to work with peace of mind when you’re making out in a dark alleyway with your nemesis?

His tongue pried its way into your mouth and brought the savory taste of blood with it. Who would have thought this psycho would be a good kisser. Conscience started flipping with guilt when you realized you enjoyed this more than running after him.

Your inner voice urged you to bite his lip, to worsen his wound, make it bleed again. You wanted to get back at him for pulling you into this situation and maybe, just maybe, you enjoyed the taste of copper in your mouth.

Your tongue swiped over his lower lip, searching and then probing into his split lip. The action made him tighten the grip he had on your waist, bunching up your coat. And when you bit harshly on his lip, tugging away and releasing it with a snap, he whimpered out the most sinful noise you have heard. It got stuck in your head, what would you give to hear it one more time. He pulled away in surprise and you got a chance to see your work, lip swelling and beautiful red appeared once again and his tongue licked the new blood that trickled down.

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards before he quickly latched his mouth just under your jaw. You felt the sticky remains of blood he left with every kiss on your throat. It felt good, too good, but he you couldn’t grant him the satisfaction of you bearing throat to him. He did not deserve to feel like a predator, like he could simply latch his teeth into your weak spot.

“You realize that I have to do something about the dead guy, no matter how much you kiss me.” You manage to find the strength to keep your voice steady in between heavy breaths.

“Or you can just leave him here, he got what he deserved,” You immediately missed his warm lips on your neck. “You could get what you deserve too, if only you weren’t so stubborn. I could take good care of you” Vigilante murmured and left his position on your neck. With a little concentration, you were able to recognize two wide eyes staring at you through a red visor, twitching between your lips to your neck, clearly admiring the claim he landed on you. Blood and spit glistening all over your throat, oh could you get any sexier in his eyes?

“I should be putting handcuffs on you and taking you out of here.” You spat back and straightened your back with hopes of appearing taller, confident.

“Only if they are the pink fluffy ones you keep in your top drawer.” Smug smile played on his face as he presented his wrists up to you with a dramatic sigh. Your pink handcuffs? Wouldn't it be too on the nose for a police officer to have kinky handcuffs? He got it wrong anyway, you do not keep them in your top drawer, they’re in the third one. A stupid birthday gift can always turn out to be useful in the right situation.

“How do you know about those?” Blood in your veins grew colder in an instant. Then it hit you, this freak does more than laugh in your face every time you arrive at the crime scene too late, taunting you for every criminal he managed to catch before you.

“Are you stalking me?” Your voice cracked a little, it had been a long night and this just gave it a crown. Eyes glinting with surprise? Anger? Excitement? This is wrong, right? So why did your heart skip a beat at the thought of Vigilante watching you through your window?

“No?” More of a question rather than an answer. Fucking liar. “I happened to be walking around your house when you had your curtains open.” The way he said it was so slurred, he realized his mistake. Gloved hands were twitching along his sides, biting his lip in frustration of fucking up, wincing once the pain of split lip reminded him of his condition.

“Fucking unbelievable!” You pushed him away and with wobbly legs, you slithered past him. “I’m reporting this dead body to the precinct. Pack your shit and go.” You absentmindedly pointed to the dead guy bleeding on the pavement.

Meanwhile Vigilante was still standing there with eyes following your every movement as you walked over to his victim, listening to clacks of high heels. Part of him could not believe you would let him go just like that, especially after you learned of his occasional late-night visits, the other part wanted to run and save his ass, just to play this game a little bit longer.

Before he decided to listen to your order and leave, he took a last quick look at you as you tried to scrub off the dried blood he left on you while searching for your superior’s number on your phone.

 Oh, the fire you two just started will keep him awake the rest of the night, he was sure of it. Whether it was cursing the world for throwing obstacles in his life with a bottle of whiskey or succumbing to his perverse mind in the shower.

After your strange run-up with Vigilante in the alleyway everything started to tangle up more than it used to. Starting with a patchy explanation of why you suddenly found a dead guy in valley without blowing out the truth that you made out with the killer a few minutes after he shot the poor guy.

Sharp mind turned into a dull organ sitting in your head, thinking about Vigilante in the opposite way you should. If you were still in middle school, you would be probably drawing stick figures of him and you with hearts all around while simultaneously stabbing a pencil through his head. Were you truly so weak to his charm? All you needed was to clear your head, right?

Same thoughts over and over again swarmed your head, even after a long day in work. You barely dragged your feet to your small house in exhaustion. You kicked off your shoes in hallway with a sigh and went straight to the living room. All you wanted was to lay on the couch, watch some stupid chick flick and let sleep take you.

The last thing you expected though, was a large figure lounging on the couch in complete darkness. Once you switched on lights you quickly recognized the one and only Vigilante.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You yelped sternly and swiftly pulled out your gun from a holster, wasting no time to point it at him. You were used to having everything under control, nothing could surprise you, so how did this guy manage to catch you off guard all the time, how did he manage to make your life so messy and most importantly how did he manage to break into your home?

“You’ve been slacking, I wanted to know what’s up.” Vigilante cocked his head up with absolutely no other reaction to being pointed at with a gun. You wanted to shoot him in the face just for this nonchalant gesture.

“You don’t chase after me anymore,” Another bored shrug, this time he sat up on your couch and leaned his head to the side like a confused puppy. “I missed your sour face.” The way his tone changed, from accusing to clear and soft, made you loosen the grip on your gun.

The first time Vigilante got almost caught by you got him addicted even more to the adrenaline. All this time he was getting kick from killing criminals, beating up scums that don’t respect rules. Getting drunk on the feeling of power. But the second he was cutting corners, sprinting through streets with you on his tail, unlocked a whole new world for him.

The intensity of danger, one wrong step and you would catch him, put handcuffs on him and throw him in jail. This little addiction he had was as dangerous as being addicted to any other drug. Doing anything to get another dose, this time it meant sneaking into your house and confronting you from eye to eye.

“How did you get in here?” Overreaction was audible in your question and there was no wonder. Usually secure house was suddenly intruded by the masked menace of Evergreen that basked in running away from you while laughing like a maniac. Now? He came up right to you, giving you opportunity to catch him right in act of breaking and entering.

You just kept standing there watching him walk over to you without fear, without a doubt.

“You forgot to close your bathroom window,” The tip of your gun met his chest piece when he finally stopped right in front of you. Even without the benefit of seeing his face, you knew in your bones he was smirking “It was hard to squeeze through, I’m expecting applause or something.”

A frown was all he got in retaliation, nothing more and nothing else was in place for his stunt. A sensible reaction from someone whose house just got broken into, he knew it damn well, yet it did not please him.

Vigilante freed his hands from gloves and threw them hastily on the floor beside your feet, all while staring down at you. Curiosity got the better of your conscience, finger slowly moving away from the trigger, but the gun kept being pressed against his body.

Big hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs pulling at the corners of your mouth and forcing them into a lousy smile as his reward. If you refuse to give him acknowledgment it will be taken by force. His laugh was being muffled by the fabric of the dark mask, the one that had blood all over a few weeks back.

That time you were the one under the influence of alcohol that bent your consciousness, this time you felt a whiff of alcohol in Vigilante’s breath. The thought of him having to take a shot or two to give him enough courage to actually step into your territory made you all giddy inside. Maybe the all-mighty Vigilante, the menace of Evergreen, is not as indestructible as he claimed to be.

“Just between you and me, I know you don’t want to lock me up for real-“

“But I do.” You quickly interrupted him. Don’t give in.

“No, you don’t. I can see it on your face. You’re enjoying it far too much just like I do.” Debatable. But he had a point. “I mean yeah, you are pointing a gun at me and shit, but you kissed me back that night. That means something!”

He threw his hands in the air and a cheery voice just completed his dramatic bravado. However, as much as you would like to deny it, you did in fact make out with him back in that alleyway instead of doing your job.

“Do you usually make out with police officers to shake them off your track?”

“Just with you.” His hands found their place on your waist and started to play with the belt loops. And you let him continue… What is wrong with you?

“Oh I’m flattered, how is it working out for you?” With a fake smile, you pressed the gun more into his chest.

“You tell me.” Vigilante strikes again with painful truth. Yes, you were pointing your gun at him, but he had you cornered in your living room, hands seductively rubbing your hips and you let him get away with yet another murder. Well done.

His mask got rolled up and you got a chance to admire his lips. Before you could say another snarky remark, Vigilante silenced you with an urgent kiss. It was his time to shine, to bite your lip, to shove his tongue in your mouth and tangle with yours. He gave you no time to think about anything else except him.

“You know how the saying goes: Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer.” He hastily unbuttoned your work slacks, pulling the zipper down far too hard you were afraid for a moment he got it stuck. Even though you should have been more worried about the fact you just got your pants shown down your thighs.

“You consider me an enemy?” You sighed out and focused on his warm fingertips playing with the elastic of your underwear. Touches light, like his fingers were asking for permission. The lack of protests signalized a green light he was waiting for.

“Only if you shoot me.” A toothy grin plastered his face when you pressed the barrel of your gun sternly to his chin and tilted his head up. How could you pass on that opportunity to rile him up like this.

“If it means you’ll stay close to me I just might.”  With those words his hand slipped past the hem of your panties, going straight for the kill and giving all the attention to your throbbing clit. He chuckled at your reaction, how you acted all tough and yet your body begged for his touch.

Your eyelids fluttered at the sudden contact, the precision he held in killing criminals clearly dominated other areas as well. Small and stern circles changed to slow and light flicks and back and all of it was accompanied by an intense gaze that searched for any kind of reaction.

You wonder what color his eyes are, that red visor was not flattering them in any way. Would he stare at you so shamelessly even without his mask or did it bring him a fake feeling of anonymity that pushed the boundaries of this escapade.

Vigilante bent down his head to the gun that lingered near his face. You could not believe your eyes for a second when he pressed a kiss to the tip of it before smirking. He’s practically begging for a bullet in his head with bullshit like this. He did not care he was basically being held at gunpoint.  A decision was made to hide your gun back in the holster harness, for the safety of both parties involved.

Your hands sneaked up to his neck that was bared to you, nails lightly scraping along his prominent Adam’s apple. You soon found out it made him wild, because the second you touched his neck, two fingers were recklessly shoved inside you, forcing out a loud moan out of you.

Shameful whimpers started pouring out from your lips, wetness seeping into your completely ruined underwear. You had to ground yourself against the wall since your legs started buckling under you. The feeling of submission poured over weak body, something you weren’t used to. With an abrupt yank you pulled Vigilante’s lips onto yours to give yourself just a second of control. You will allow him to take you apart with his fingers, but you will control when a how much he will kiss you.

Twisted part of your mind craved the taste of his bloody lips on your tongue again. There was no doubt he wouldn’t tolerate you biting his lip again to make him bleed like the last time. Or would he? You did not dare.

A better option was to sneak your hands to the back of his neck. A bit of hair poking out from his bunched-up mask caught your attention. Now you knew he had brown hair. Add it to his dimples, surprisingly sweet laugh, bold demeanor and an idea of a person is born, suddenly so real. Especially when he was jackhammering his thick fingers right to your G spot.

You wanted more. You needed more. Fingers tried to slip under his mask with hopes he would not notice it when you were distracting him with your tongue in his mouth. This wasn’t fair towards him at all, he was making you feel so good and you were trying to pull his mask off.

If you knew how he looked like it would not be any trouble to find him and arrest him. That’s why you came to Evergreen voluntarily after all. If all of this was just a means to an end…

But Vigilante quickly realized what were you trying to do and caught your wrist before you could continue. “Seriously?” Annoyance seeped from his voice, grip on your wrist so tight to the point it almost hurt. But your wide eyes that stared at him like deer caught in headlights made him soften his hold.

“At least buy me a dinner before you try to pull my mask off.” He laughed it off, but pulled his fingers from your pussy and you whined at the loss.

He let go off your hand and let it drop to your body. Instead he pulled his fingers from your panties and inspected the arousal coating them before bringing them to his lips. The sight alone made you sigh.

“You taste so sweet. If only you treated me so sweetly too.” Fingers popped from his mouth, covered in spit instead of your wetness. Oh, you’re fucked.

“Lose these.” You playfully tugged on his tactical belt.

“So demanding. Very sexy of you.”

The suit had quite a complicated mechanism and rather than losing his pants he just popped the button open to free his cock, hard and leaking precum. Hot and ready to go.

His gaze lingered on you as you pulled your pants and underwear down your legs. Breath got caught in his throat at the sight of your skin. A blank canvas for him to paint.

In an instant he lunged back at you, hooking hands under your knees to raise you up and making you hook your legs around his waist. Heat radiating from his body to your core was such a lovely contrast to the cold pieces of his suit that pressed against you throughout the evening.

“Are we really about to do this?” You were breathless, sandwiched between a wall and Vigilante leaning over you.

“Only if you want to.” So genuine. A man with no boundaries asking for consent, it surprised you more than it should have. “I do.”

“Baller”

Head of his cock swiped over your clit roughly. That bastard was teasing you more and more and enjoyed every second of it. His lips parted in awe, eyes were glued down to watch the pretty sight. You became something more than a police officer going after him or prey for him to take, but God forbid if he ever admitted that to you or even himself.

“I hate you.” Voice was shaking with anticipation and so was your body. A quick chaste kiss washed away the hate you felt even if it was just for a second, then he slid into you in one clean glide until your pelvises were flush against each other.

You both moaned out into each other’s open mouths. Someone would say it was just a noise of shameful lust. For you? A nasty symphony that set off something inside, the same type of addiction that controlled the man in front of you.

“If you sound so heavenly when you hate someone I’m really curious how you sound when you love someone.” He licked his lips and bucked his hips up to force another sweet mewl out.

“Go to hell” You knew it did not sound convincing and that fucker saw right through you. Because if you truly hated Vigilante so badly he wouldn’t be balls deep inside you, stretching you out with burning pleasure. With another vain chuckle, he started snapping his hips into you with urgency.

Vigilante filled you in the best and the worst way possible. Relieving the thirst your body was screaming with as well as putting a patch over the deep hole of anger and frustration he had been digging in your heart since you met him for the first time.

There was nothing gentle or graceful about what happened. Messy, desperate, vicious, and addictive is what it was.

You tightly hold onto him with arms around his neck, clinging like a koala.

If only your squad saw you like this. You have been boasting and promising how you’re gonna be the one to catch Vigilante. And here you were, it seemed he caught you more likely. Driving his cock into you in the dimness of your living room like it was his usual nightly activity.

Truth be told, he kept fucking with you all this time to make you mad, but never in a million years you would have guessed he will be fucking with you for real.

The strong grip he had on your thighs loosened with every hard thrust. Legs were slowly but surely slipping from his waist to the floor. All his power was concentrated on snapping hips and harsh kisses until nothing was left for his arms to hold you up, yet he refused to let go of you. Gnarly bruises were forming where his fingertips dug into the soft skin of your thighs, making this meeting even more bitter-sweet.

“You can be so good when you want to be,” You barely whispered it against his lips between your combined moans “You’re so good for me. Such a good boy-“

“Fuck I’m gonna cum! Fuuck!” His whine was long and high-pitched, you wanted to hear more of it, but he muffled his cries with a bite on your neck. Normally you would not allow him to bite you, there could always be an exception, and this was one of them.

Especially when he got into a sprint to the finish line, he found hidden strength to bounce you on his cock as much as this lousy position allowed him.

His pelvis was hitting your pulsating clit so gloriously, wet slaps filling your ears, moans and whimpers digging deep into your memory, there was no way you could hold on.

And you did not. Fireworks exploded behind closed eyelids, tingly heat spread from your core to the very tips of your toes, ecstasy consumed every fiber of your being.

Too busy floating on cloud nine to notice Vigilante clenching his teeth around the skin of your neck, creating another vulgar bruise. Too busy to register a loud groan he let out with one last thrust. Too busy to notice ropes of cum coating your spasming walls, filling you to the brim.

His hold no longer supported you when he leaned all his weight on you, chest rising and falling against yours with every deep breath. Being too sensitive to pull out he nestled inside you, basking in the warmth of your cunt.

“You know… You almost got me that one time. After that burglary in the liquor shop,” He murmured against your neck, pressing apologetic kisses to the spot he had bitten. “And I’ve been thinking about it tonight-”

“Where are you going with this?”

“I’m trying to tell you! Don’t interrupt me, dude.” Did he just call you ‘dude’?

“I wanted to say that I realized if I’ll keep fucking you until you can’t walk, you have no chance of catching me.” He pulled away from the crook of your neck and genuinely smiled at your dazzled face.

“Bold of you to assume I’m letting you inside my house ever again. I will remember to close that window next time.” At this point, you started to struggle to keep your head calm.

“Bold of you to assume I don’t know about the spare key in the flowerpot in front of your house.” That motherfucker. Now you have to relocate the key somewhere else.

“Sounds like a threat.”

“More like a promise.”

He pulled out and tucked himself back into his pants without a second thought. You watched with open mouth as he gathered ruined panties and pants while you leaned against the wall with weak legs. He acted so nicely, it made your heart melt. Just a little.

All of this almost made you feel bad for your intentions. You were there to throw him in front of a court and move on to the big league, but Vigilante just enjoyed your presence, your interest, albeit the wrong kind.

“Don’t pretend you hate me,” He handed you clothes and booped your nose with the tip of his pointer. With one last pretty smile, he pulled the mask over his face and made his way to your front door. “See ya later, loser!”

He just left you standing there with his cum running down your legs like it was nothing. Like he didn't just give you the best orgasm you had in a while. Oh God, What have you gotten yourself into…

[mozzzz05]

I hate to bitch but… I’m going to:

There was just? So much wrong this season and not even because I wasn’t a fan of the ending - in fact, I quite liked that they were 8 little marigolds together - but the rest of it!?

There’s at least three plot lines that added fuck all to the story - and I’m all for fluffing out the stories/characters, love me a filler episode - but not only did we not have time for a filler episode with 4 less episodes than usual those plot lines added nothing to the characters or the story or anything really.

Klaus getting kidnapped (again), no one noticing (again) - getting possessed & having sex, getting buried alive (again, if ykyk) apart from Alison going to save him - what did it add? - I love Klaus he’s literally my favourite character, I always want more Klaus but it kind of feels like they didn’t know what to do with him? - “let’s make him relapse and do some crazy stuff, for shits and giggles!”

Diego & Luther going to the CIA - this is the one I see the most sense in of course, but apart from making Diego realise that he shouldn’t take Lila and his kids for granted and announcing that the CIA guy was part of the whole Jean & Gene cult thing (and getting to see David Castañeda’s abs (despite supposedly having a Dad Bod now?)) it kind of went on too long? It felt like it was slightly misplaced? Idk

And of course, how could it go unmentioned - the Five/Lila romance? whAT THE FUCK!??? Like it’s creepy both ways bcos Ritu Arya is 15 years older than Aidan Gallagher - freshly legal - and because Five is nearly 70 at that point? And that’s without even mentioning the fact that, oh yeah - Lila’s married to his BROTHER? But if you took it out - what would change? Genuinely? That Lila will always choose her family? Choose Diego? Tbh she could easily come to that conclusion without any romance, she clearly longed to go back more than Five did (who btw, abandoned his family after spending his entire life trying to save them - WHAT?)

The only one making any progress was Viktor

And so many things left unexplained- why did Ray leave Alison? What happened to Dave? (Guessing he’s long dead now but we still don’t know if Klaus’ s2 plan had any effect & the only hint of him we got this season was the dog tags (more than last season at least)) Why is Reggie a fucking alien? How did he get to earth??

I just feel so unpleasantly underwhelmed for a show that has meant so much to me the past few years, for an ending that was mildly disappointing but not as much as the 4 episodes that came before it.

[crystalwhites]

ASTROLOGY NOTES

Hey! These are just my views and observations might not be relatable to all, please take what you relate 🤎

This Post consists of only Scorpio, Capricorn, Saturn, Pluto, 8th / 12th house placements

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃

✦ I'm not surprised 12TH HOUSE rules psychiatric hospital, mental illnesses, abandoned places things that are twisted in some way, that are mysterious

since we are on it, 12th house mystery and 8th house mystery are veryyy different....... 12th is like conspiracy everything that's hard to believe which might or might not be real...and 8th is stuff that everyone knows exists but don't wanna talk about cause it's dark and hidden

✦ Saturn dominancy is definitely something you inherit or like runs in family (not compulsory ofc)

✦ Plutonic moon and plutonic venus make a good match from what I've seen, their wants and needs are similar (also the possessiveness and jealousy :/ )

✦ Capricorns and them questioning themselves whether they're enough.

✦ Scorpios are majorly attracted to Capricorns cause caps are so authentic they just be themselves not trying to lure anything or anyone,....... caps / earth signs don't give a shit about anything and Scorpios like it, their cold persona is very appealing + caps are not pretentious and Scorpios like people being honest and real

✦ CAPRICORN and SCORPIO difference (sun/ moon/rising)

Both of them are mysterious but the difference is Scorpios are secretive and caps are reserved / private ppl. Caps don't mind sharing their things with right person but not announcing it lol where as Scorpios have issues with trust they won't share until something like 10+ years and signed nda.

✦ 8TH HOUSE placements really hate people who don't have depth to them, who are too superficial to understand them

✦ You shouldn't underestimate a Moon in 8th house person's ability to detach themselves from anything or anyone, or at least they can pretend to cause they are so good at hiding their feelings

✦ idk why but I've observed this a lot that in someway or other it has always been unfair with Saturnians

✦ Heard a CAPRICORN STELLIUM say this ----

"your life is 100% your responsibility, no one is coming to save you"

✦ one thing you can expect from CAPRICORNS is keeping things real. They will say like it is and yes that also means no consideration for your heart sometimes cause they don't want anything based on lies, truth and loyalty are important to them

✦ A combination of Saturn and Pluto dominant in a chart 😵😰🥵

✦ Some of the songs from taylor swift album tortured poets like loml, so long London are so deep and heavily emotional perfectly showing her SCORPIO VENUS (pls never break a scorpio venus heart they're too soft <3)

✦ SATURN - PLUTO transits are scary especially in the 1, 4, 7, 10 houses....... pls y'all look out for yourself stay safe <3

Thankyou for reading !!

Hope you liked and related 🤎

[bridenore]

HD eight year fic recs : 50k+ words

Here are a few drarry eight year fic recs that are between 30k and 50k words. Posted in alphabetical order, as always.

You can access my rec lists for eight year fics that have less than 10k words here, between 10k and 20k here, between 20k and 30k here and between 30k and 50k here.

Arms Wide Open: Hogwarts by Sita_Z [28k]

Harry did not expect his Eighth Year to involve any more investigations of abandoned bathrooms. Nor did he expect to come across Draco Malfoy there, alone, bleeding and in late-stage labor. Arms Wide Open: Grimmauld Place by Sita_Z [36k] After leaving Hogwarts, Harry and Draco face an uncertain future, raising Scorpius and dealing with the wizarding world’s reaction to their situation. Sequel to Arms Wide Open: Hogwarts.

At Your Service by @faith2wood [95k]

Hogwarts students are in danger; Harry is determined to save them all. There’s only one thing he knows for certain: Draco Malfoy is somehow involved.

Azoth by @lol-zeitgeistic [88k]

Now that Harry is back at Hogwarts with Hermione for eighth year, he realises that something’s missing from his life, and it either has to do with Ron, his boggart, Snape, or Malfoy. Furthermore, what, exactly, does it mean when one’s life is defined by the desire to simultaneously impress and annoy a portrait? Harry has no idea; he’s too busy trying not to be in love with Malfoy to care.

Beholden by @faith2wood [123k]

Draco Malfoy might not be a killer, but it turns out he's an effective painkiller. If stopping pain was all Draco's touch did, things might not be so complicated, but either way Harry can't afford to be choosy.

The Changing Lights by lazywonderland [142k]

Harry returns for an eighth year following the end of the war and realises that although he's put his own animosity towards Malfoy aside, no one else seems to have done the same. When a hex leaves his oldest rival in the body of a female and ridicule doubles, Harry discovers that his hero complex is a difficult thing to fight.

Exceeds Eggspectations by Elle Gray (LGray) [61k]

Eighth year. Winter. Christmas has been and gone. Harry’s just been dumped and so has Malfoy. There’s a stupid fake baby assignment to be done, and what’s the harm in doing it together, really, when life is this shit already? This is not slow burn, this is a roman candle pointed at a pile of dry twigs that represent your heart.

Firebond by Oakstone730 / @i-didnt-wanna-do-it​ [94k]

Draco is forced to tutor Harry in potions. A slight problem occurs.

Golden Age by @lol-zeitgeistic [52k]

The Celtic druids once made a decision that kept magic in abundance in Britannia, but they couldn’t account for the technological advances Muggles would make centuries later. Now magic is dying on the isles, and this is not a dark lord that Harry can fight. OR: Harry Potter doesn’t save the world this time, but he does get a lot of hugs.

Graceless Heart by shushu_yaoi_lj / @orange-peony​ [132k]

Harry is lost and broken after the war. He has gone to countless funerals, broken up with Ginny, moved back into Grimmauld Place—which feels darker and dirtier than ever before despite how much he tries to fix it. He feels lonely and desperate, but he won’t ask for help, and he still can’t cry. When he agreed to help the Aurors at Malfoy Manor over the summer, he thought that he would be breaking dark curses. Harry never thought that he would actually spend his days sorting out dusty books with Draco Malfoy, or teaching him how to cook. Little by little, as they begin to navigate their life post-war, Harry and Draco become intimate…in more ways than Harry could have ever expected.

Helix by Saras_Girl [92k]

Seven months after the end of the war, Harry is feeling lost. Fortunately, he is about to be offered an unexpected and sparkling chance to find himself again. [2014 advent fic]

It’s No Great Mystery by @agentmoppet​ [57k]

Who on earth decided that bringing back the Yule Ball for their eighth year would be a good idea? It feels like the worst day of Harry’s life, watching everyone get glammed up like the war never happened, like the last Triwizard Tournament wasn’t such a colossal failure. And then it happens again. And again. And again.

Manticoria by @lol-zeitgeistic [70k]

In the dangerous days after Voldemort’s fall, Harry struggles to find a way to be with Draco—again. But as the magical world threatens to die all around them, it might be more difficult than he thought. Includes dying wards, dying beasts, and love struggling to live; sentient magic, wandlore, Founder lore, potion lore, and ward lore; and of course there is Zacharias Smith to ruin everything, as usual.

Mental by sara_holmes [156k]

Harry has had quite enough of sharing his mind with someone else, thankyouverymuch. A miscast Legilimecy spell says otherwise.

My Little Berserker by @aelys-althea  [105k]

Eighth year was supposed to be calm. Moderated. Peaceful, even. Draco returned to escape the chaos wrought upon his shambles of a life and Harry to flee the responsibility of a world that sees him as something greater than was truly possible. Hogwarts was a safe haven, right? At least it was until Hagrid comes up with the wonderful idea to introduce some additional members to the student body of the fluffier variety. Hagrid doesn’t do moderated - where’s the fun in that?

The Nightmare Club by Elle Gray [85k]

Hermione and Ron are going back to Hogwarts to do N.E.W.T.s, Ginny isn’t. Harry hasn’t decided, until he has, in front of the Wizengamot and now he’s responsible for Malfoy as well. A tale of enemies who learn to get along, get it wrong and get it on. Everything is purple, some things are on fire and no-one is sleeping properly. But don’t worry, there’s tea!

Not in the Hands of Boys by @fourth-rose [130k] *incomplete

Once the final battle is won, life must go on, although it can be even harder to master than death. Back at Hogwarts for his final year of school, Harry tries to cope with everything he's been through. As the world around him struggles for a way back to normality, he is forced to realise that in the long run, living takes a lot more courage than dying.

Objects of Desire by Azrael Geffen [400k+]

The dream team sign a magical contract promising to lose their virginities within the year, they soon fix on the objects of their desires, but will the bitterness left in the wake of the war prove too hurtful for love to exist?

Ocean of Storms by Bounding-Heart [113k]

The war is over and Harry has returned to help rebuild Hogwarts. He longs to move forwards, but the past refuses to let him go. The castle is full of ghosts: haunting nightmares, the deaths he couldn’t prevent, and the age-old rivalry that Draco Malfoy seems determined to maintain.

Owl Was Well by @fencer-x [66k]

Draco Malfoy is not an owl, really he isn’t. He simply assumes the shape of one on occasion when he wants to find a bit of privacy—a goal entirely thwarted because Harry Potter doesn’t understand you can’t just grab any old bird from the Owlery and force it to send your missives and deliver your packages.

The Promise of Summer by Omi_Ohmy [66k]

How was Harry supposed to know that coming back for eighth year would be so confusing? Everything is the same, and yet not the same. And nowhere is this more obvious than with Draco Malfoy. Harry finds himself once more watching and following Malfoy, trying to work him out. When they are drawn together to heal the castle, Harry doesn’t just find Malfoy - he also finds himself.

red and green are complimentary colours by  ace_0fhearts [88k]

After the war Hermione manages to convince Harry to go back to Hogwarts for his eighth year. Expecting an uneventful year of classes and rooming with the other Gryffindor boys, he’s surprised when McGonagall tells him he’ll be sharing a room with Draco Malfoy. Now Harry has to get through a year of arguments and awkward silences. Or he would, if Malfoy would stop ignoring him and moping around the castle alone. Or: Draco and Harry fall in love through sleepless nights and late night quidditch games

Reparo by amalin [84k]

Voldemort’s final defeat does not mean Harry Potter’s troubles are over; far from it. In the aftermath of war, he returns to a Hogwarts that is fractured and divided, but this is no break that can be fixed with a spell. New owls, fading scars, surprising alliances—and along the way, the hardest task of all, to live with it. 

Right Hand Red by @lqtraintracks [73k] 

Harry felt Malfoy’s breath on his lips as they came together over the bottle, hands firmly planted on the floor as though they each needed their familiar soil, refusing to cross into enemy territory. Except that Malfoy no longer felt like his enemy. Malfoy felt inevitable.

The Silent World Within You by @femmequixotic and @noeeon [95k]

Harry only wanted Malfoy for one night, one birthday. It wasn’t meant to be anything more.

spins madly on by asofthaven [56k]

As part of his probation, Draco Malfoy returns to Hogwarts to complete his N.E.W.T.s. Gobstones, the political machinations of the Hogwarts student body, and one Harry James Potter captures Draco’s attention instead.

Things Worth Knowing by @femmequixotic and @noeeon [164k]

After the Battle, Harry thinks he’s left Hogwarts for good, but Minerva insists that all students return for an Eighth Year if they wish to sit for NEWTs in the spring, and Harry needs those NEWTs to go into the Aurors. Draco’s just grateful not to be in Azkaban. Or the Manor. He’s hoping he can steer clear of Potter this year and grapple with his own problems. Unfortunately for him, Potter appears to be one of those problems. And that’s not even addressing the fact that Potter’s got serious issues of his own, which Draco realises as he’s forced to share an Eighth Year dormitory room and several classes with the Gryffindor Git. If only they can make it through the year without killing each other, it should be all right, shouldn’t it?

Written on the Heart by who_la_hoop [113k] 

Harry doesn’t mind that so many Slytherins from his year have returned to finish their NEWTs, really he doesn’t. It’s just – do they have to be so friendly? He’s not prejudiced, really he’s not. It’s just – they’ve got to be up to something, right? Unnerved by the attention he’s attracting from everyone – the Slytherins are the least of it, to be fair – and struggling with a raft of changes to Hogwarts itself, Harry wishes he could be happy that one constant remains: Draco Malfoy really fucking hates him. When he’s hit by an illegal love-spell though, Harry finds he has more to worry about than whether or not Blaise Zabini actually wants to be his friend. For if everyone affected has been blessed – or cursed, by the look on Malfoy’s face – with a magical tattoo revealing the name of their soulmate, what does it mean that Harry’s skin remains completely bare?

You’ve Got Owl Post by @slyth-princess [50k]

After discovering muggle romantic comedies during winter break, Pansy Parkinson and Luna Lovegood decide to launch an ambitious project called You’ve Got Owl Post which matches up students through an enchanted notebook so they can send letters to each other without knowing who is at the other end. It is an instant hit. Harry, without his friends knowing, is one of the first to join. And he rapidly finds a kindred soul on the other side of the pages. In real life, however, he is once again plagued by Draco Malfoy. After fighting in class, McGonagall has had enough. So, as punishment and a lesson, she assigns them the running of that years dueling club. Everyone, including Harry and Draco, assumes it will be a disaster. However, sometimes the people you think you know the best are the ones who can surprise you the most. A story of letters, bets, friendship, love, forgiveness, and discovering who you really are.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

[itsonlybaby]

˖ㅤㅤ۫ㅤ ˚ ۪ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝜗℘

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬

ㅤ ˖ㅤㅤ۫ㅤ ˚ ۪˖𓏲﹒smut﹒fluff﹒angst

﹒ ◠ list under cut ! ͘ ౨ ⸝⸝ most rec ꒰ twt links

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐲 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫

　birthday wish - ModernAU! Throwing a surprise birthday for Murphy, but what happens if the guest of honor is late for the party?

　mine - Murphy was always protective of you, so when he thought Jasper sparked an interest in you- he was quick to shut it down. 　the moon, the sun - When Titus died you set out in search of a new fleimkepa, only finding Murphy; a misunderstood roach. 　full of hate - You hated Murphy since you landed on the ground, you didn't expect him to awaken something in you.

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐲 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　useless - you feel useless to the people of Arkadia, maybe Bellamy could help with that. 　wooden deer - you met in the shop's area of Polis, you trading Bellamy a small wooden sculpture, which he kept. Thinking of you every day, every day for 2,026 days. 　divine - ever since the massacre of the grounder army he's been different, but you don't give up on him 　haircuts - bellamy noticed you have been losing sleep over your son, so he decided to help out. Only, he doesn't stop helping out.

　failed mission - Azgeda assassins are supposed to be stone-cold, and feel nothing, but what happens when a certain boy tries to gain your trust 　jealous meeting - bellamy calls a group meeting to decide certain defense plans and catch up with everyone, but his jealousy gets the best of him. 　longing dreams- you had a dream about your best friend Bellamy, and you try to suppress the feelings by avoiding him. Bellamy doesn't let this slide. 　flowers of you - when the second praimfaya hit you thought you were the last person on Earth, until the group came back down, landing in your valley. 　the wolf and the lamb - you stumble across a knocked-out person, doing the only thing you can do you save him; not knowing with that would lead to. 　pyramid - it wasn't uncommon for you to flirt with Bellamy, but it was unusual for him to flirt with you back. 　friends with benefits - you and Bellamy were friends, friends who often did each other favors.

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　whenever you want - you've been crushing on Monty for years now, and you decide it's time to give him a hint, which doesn't go as planned

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐉𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐧 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　 loading. . .

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐧 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　 loading. . .

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐞 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　  loading. . . 

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐑𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　 loading. . .

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐚 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　 loading. . .

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐧 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　 loading. . .

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐨𝐚𝐧 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　 loading. . .

 　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐋𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐭 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫ 　sneaky memories - You got captured in Bardo, and while Levitt was sifting through your memories he came across a more private one.

ㅤㅤㅤ౨౿ ﹒𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 ㅤ

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐨﹒

⸝⸝ incest ╰﹐siblings, parent/child, cousins

⸝⸝ pedophilia ╰﹐if the reader or character is a minor I won't do it

⸝⸝ inflation

⸝⸝ sexual assault ╰﹐this goes for cnc, and rape

⸝⸝ scat play ╰﹐piss, and shit

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨﹒

⸝⸝ safe age gap ╰﹐they are still of age, but there's a gap

⸝⸝ stalking ╰﹐not yandere stalking

⸝⸝ twt smut visuals ╰﹐twitter porn I think matches a character's vibe

⸝⸝ anything else you can think of ╰﹐if I don't like your request, I wont write it, but that's rare

ㅤㅤㅤ౨౿ ﹒𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞

　just call me baby.

　i am 19 years old, this is my main blog that I've now abandoned but cant delete > @saturdaykrualt

　my discord is 'itsjustbaby'

　im really passionate about creative arts, such as painting, writing, and music.

　i have to listen to music while writing, here's the playlist!

　and this is my main playlist

ㅤ ˖ㅤ ㅤ۫ ㅤ if you have any questions don't be scared to ask﹗✦

　

[gojos-thot-patrol]

HII!!! and happy birthday to you ♡♡ i love ur works sm, for ur special birthday event, could i request — ryomen sukuna, mean, " i love you, and you don't deserve that " ?? AGAIN, HAPPY BIRTHDAY AND HAVE THE BEST YEAR!! (｡>﹏<｡) feel free to change it up! you're the birthday author afterall<3

AHH these are late, but in my defense I got very drunk then had to work off the hang over lol.

that being said, thank you so much Nonny!! This is so sweet and I feel kinda bad because this one got pretty dark. Trigger warnings for Domestic abuse, non con/dub con implied, emotional abuse and manipulation, and yandere themes. you have been warned, Dead Dove, Do Not Eat.

Now Presenting...

Starring: An cold complicated Ryomen Sukuna, taking it out on a Reader that doesn't deserve it.

There were few things on this earth Sukuna found more vile than humans. Maggots, maybe, but at least maggots served a purpose- they were important to the nutrient cycling of many ecosystems. But what the fuck did human do? They destroyed with reckless abandon, conquered without a second thought, and bread like roaches to continue the destruction long after they were gone. They were creatures of hate. And maybe that’s why Sukuna couldn’t stand them. They were just a little too much like him.

That was all with one exception. Y/n was a human that challenged every thought he had about humans. She was kind and generous, but still not afraid to get her hands dirty for what she believed. She proved that much when she ran out to stop him from destroying some elders home of all fucking things. He didn’t know what was funnier, that she thought she could challenge him, with her meek frame and zero battle experience, or the look on her face when he threw her over his shoulder. 

He had planned to throw her to his hoard of underling curses and let them tear her limb from limb. A fitting punishment he thought, she wasn’t really worth his effort. When he got to the throne room, he looked down at the writhing mass of curses below the tall platform his throne sat upon. He watched them all move as one, entangled together in a breathing wet sea of shit and hunger. They needed to eat.

And then he looked at her. The way she clung to his arm, the genuine terror in her eyes. She didn’t look like she had before on the battlefield, so willing to give her life to save another. Now she looked as if her entire being was made of ice and terror, as if she’d shatter if the breeze blew the wrong way. He felt a tightness in his chest, like some otherworldly being was pulling the sinew that laid there apart, cord by cord. And he threw her into his sleeping quarters instead. 

And ever since that day all those months ago, Sukuna had been complicated. A fucking human complicated him, it was almost comical. He caught himself being vulnerable around her, and he coludn’t fucking stand it. For every quiet sweet moment they had, he had to double down with two or more acts of brutality to make himself feel better. Except, it never made him feel any fucking better, in fact it made him feel actively fucking worse. The betrayal and hurt behind your eyes always made him feel minuscule, and it only made his hate of you burn even brighter. 

It was moments like these that made his skin crawl. When your head was resting on his chest, arms wrapped around your body as best as they could be, legs still trembling in the aftermath of your shared sin. When he realized his heart was calm, and his claws didn’t crave blood in your presence. His reaction to comfort was always visceral anger. 

“Get off of me wench.” He growled, jerking his shoulder up and launching you out of your near sleep state. You looked so hurt.

“Oh, this again?” You muttered.

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean, Whore?” Sukuna scoffed, unable to believe you felt comfortable enough to talk to him with such a tongue.

“Nothing.” You sighed, shaking your head and trying to turn away from him. You didn’t get very far before his talons were digging into your shoulder, forcing you to face him again.

“No no, If you’re going to say something, say it. Don’t try to take the cowardly way out now.” He warned. You shook your head, knowing better than to make eye contact right now.

“I just don’t want to fight-”

“Oh, you think this is a fight?” He laughed, “that would almost be cute if it wasn’t so pathetic.We don't fight Y/n. You forget your place, and I remind you of it. Fighting implies you to be my equal, which you never will be.” he said, his voice dripping in condescension and laced with contempt. His poison shot straight into your heart, coursing through your blood and to your tongue. You were so tired of his bull shit. 

“Oh, really?! Is that what happens?!” You laughed back to keep from crying, “Because from my view, You realize you have a heart and get so scared of it, you have to hurt someone smaller than you to feel like a man aga-!” Yea, you weren’t shocked when he struck you. You held your face, knowing there would be a bruise you could take fingerprints off of forming. You’d long since become used to his treatment. He grabbed you by your hair, yanking you to look at him. You could feel individual follicles being pulled from their roots as he raised you off the bed, as he drank in your scream as if it was the finest of wine. 

“Listen here Brat,” Ryomen always had a way of making even the most mundane words cut into your soul, “You’d do well to remember who the fuck you are talking to when you speak to me. I am not your friend, I am not your lover, you are fucking nothing to me. You’re less than nothing to me. Wrong me a-fucking-gain and your villiage won’t stop finding pieces of your body.” He snarled, throwing you off the bed. 

You braced for impact, but that still didn’t stop the collision from sending sharp waves of anguish through your already bruised ribs. You took in a sharp breath and tried to keep the tears swelling in your eyes from spilling over. He wanted you to cry. You wouldn't give him that satisfaction. You got to your hands and knees as quickly as your body would let you, then sat up as best as you could.

“Do you know what your problem is Sukuna?” You mumbled from the floor. He raised an eyebrow at you, genuinely shocked you had more to say after that. Normally, physical violence shut you up pretty quick. 

“And what is that Y/n?” He asked. You took an edge breath in.

“Your problem is that you don’t want to keep being a warlord. You’re tired of it, it bores you, you want to do something else. You found something that only makes that feeling stronger. And you can’t stand it! Because you don’t know who you are. You have no idea who Ryomen Sukuna is without the power and the blood thirst, and that fucking terrifies you.” Sukuna didn’t even argue, and he wasn’t surprised you read him so clearly. You had always seen through him as if he was nothing more than a fragile bubble. 

“And do you know what my problem is?” You growled. You waited all of 3 seconds before responding to his silence, “My problem is that I love you. And you don’t deserve that.” A chuckle left Sukuna, but it was humorless. His eyes didn’t hold any anger or angst, he looked as if he was made of stone. He finally got up from the bed, and moved to you. He crouched down to be at your level. 

“Things are only going to get worse for you from here on out. I hope you're prepared.” he said, zero emotion making its way to his voice or eyes. He pushed you onto your back before standing up again and leaving the room. Once he was back in his own sleeping quarters, he punched a hole in his wall.

How fucking dare you tell him you loved him! Who the fuck did you think you were?! And why the fuck would you confess that after he threw you to the fucking ground? As if you were nothing more than a used cum rag! He roared as he ripped some random piece of art off the wall and smashed it against the floor, splintering the wooden frame. Your words kept echoing in his head, phantoms that wouldn’t let him rest. I love you, and you don’t deserve it.It made him sick. Because he didn’t deserve it. And because he loved you too, and you truly didn’t deserve that.

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part nine —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3.2k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. reader menstruates. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: no comment

The beam gave a nasty cut to your hand.

Tetanus, blood, infections— more threats.

You sit on a rock by the river to fix it up. Before you can dab on the hydrogen peroxide from your new med kit, Blue insists on doing it for you— soft fingertips against your broken skin. She is by far a gentler nurse than her father. You focus on her pink cheeks and scrunched nose as she concentrates. It helps you ignore the sting.

"You scared the shit out of me for a second there, Twix.”

"Sorry. I guess I need to work on my balance."

She gives a stilted laugh. The gauze comes next, just a thin layer since the bleeding has already stopped.

"Thanks for asking him to help me," you add in a whisper. You smile. "I don't think I've ever had a friend save my life so many times."

Blue cuts the gauze and begins tying it off. "I didn't actually have to ask him this time, you know. Like I said, he doesn’t hate you.”

You glance to where Ghost has taken the short break to lean against a tree and drink some water, pale jaw and pink lips exposed. An actual human hides under all that gear and horrifying mask. It annoys you that he doesn't just take it off.

You look back at her, eyes rolling. “You're lying."

She closes the med kit and shrugs. “Friends don't lie."

The afternoon sun bleeds white light over your cheeks as the three of you keep walking. Just meters away from the river, Ghost points out a small cabin. One that hunters used back in the day, you bet. He says it could be a good place to stay for the night. The scent of the rushing water nearby should do some to mask your human scent.

Rolling hills take place of the trees. To the west, you can see the faint outline of mountains dipped in white snow. Well, as much of mountains as you can find in England. They are not nearly as tall as the ones your parents used to take you skiing to in France.

You grow quiet and let Blue do all the talking. Maybe you are embarrassed after almost falling into the river.

Just when she asks - How much further? - something strange pops up in the distance. White medical tents— well, you assume they were once white. They are now torn and grey, with some blue crates beneath them. Confusion swells in your chest and you can't help but speak up.

"Why is this all here?" you ask, your boots stepping over some stray medical tools. Scalpels, tweezers, and syringes. Pressed into the rich earth like fossils. You would pick them up if they weren't rusted past the point of being useful.

"I don't know," Blue answers. "Ghost?"

"Emergency medical camp the military set up," he says. 

"After shit happened?" she asks.

He gives a curt nod as he looks around at the remnants. "Those that were left were tryin' to help survivors in the first few days. Didn't last long, though."

"Is that what your friends were doing after you ditched them?"

"Told you, kid. They weren't my friends."

"Alright, teammates. Whatever. Were they helping with injured people here?" she asks curiously.

"A few of them were.”

Blue looks at you. "Twix, did I ever tell you about that?"

"Um. About what?"

"Well, Ghost was supposed to be working when shit happened," she raises her brows and juts a thumb at him. "But he snuck away from his post to get all our stuff and come find me and my mum."

You swallow at the mention of her mom and avoid looking at Ghost. "Snuck away?"

"Yeah," she nods, "It's called dessert."

"Desertion," he gruffly corrects her.

"What?" you ask.

"He abandoned his assignment," she explains. "But he always says he would do it again if he had to. Anyway, he used to talk to his teammates on his radio to see how they were and stuff— what was happening. But then they got too far away for it to work."

Of course Ghost had a radio.

Paul had one, too. You can remember huddling around that radio like it was a mouthpiece for some god. The static grew choppier and choppier over the first few days. The channels dwindled. Eventually, it stopped working altogether and you didn't learn much about what happened in the outside world. You did learn that London was one of the quickest cities to succumb to the infection. Then, Paris, Bangkok, and Chicago.

Everywhere.

You process the new information as you keep walking through the tents, peering into some opened crates to see if anything is left— nothing is.

Now you know Ghost left his post when he found out about the virus. He stocked up on supplies and then got Blue and her mom. By the way Blue mentions her, it must be an old loss. How long did her mother survive with them, then? Did she use to live in the cabin with them?

You don’t know why your stomach grows tight, but the questions in your brain fade once the military base comes into view.

"Finally," Blue sighs rather dramatically.

A high, chain-link fence surrounds the place. There are a few buildings and some abandoned vehicles that look like jeeps. The fence has multiple gaps cut into it so climbing is unnecessary. Ghost leads the way. You continue sniffing the air. With your bandaged hand, you keep your bow poised and subconsciously walk closer to their footsteps. 

Ghost takes you to the main building in the center. The British flag flutters beside it on a pole, faded and as meaningless as the one sewn on Ghost’s bicep.

"Are we going through the barracks again this time?" Blue perks up.

"We have to go through 'em to get to the armory,” he says.

"Cool. There might be some good shit left behind."

There isn't much good shit, actually.

You don't know what the other military base they went to was like, but this one is unsettling and seems to be ransacked. Sunlight pours in through the shattered windows. Scattered papers and strewn bones decorate the tile floors. Thick cobwebs hang in the corners.

As you walk through the hallway of old dorms, Blue and Ghost stop looking in them after the first four turn out to contain only tipped-over cots, walls smeared with old blood, and even a few scampering vermin that make her yelp and grab hold of Ghost's arm.

He grows stiffer than usual. You don’t have to pry off the skull mask to know what he is thinking. Ghost is not the only person who thought of coming here. If these rooms are mostly empty, then what is left in the armory?

Still, you check out a few more of them on your own as they walk up ahead. You rummage through closets and drawers. You find three pairs of men's socks. More useful than one might think.

In one room, you kneel down by the unkempt cot to dig a black backpack out from under it. You can’t believe that Ghost, as big as he is, ever slept on these things. The backpack’s zipper catches as you try to open it, the metal teeth rusted, so you cut a hole in the fabric with your knife. Inside, you find another military-grade knife to add to your arsenal and some wrapped ready-to-eats.

When you check the closet, the sight of a full skeleton causes you to jump back in a startled step, a few rats running out between your boots.

"Oh, fuck," you mutter, noticing a bullet hole in the skull. A handgun lies beside the body, but you discover the magazine to be empty. Whatever bullet it once had was likely spent on this person's suicide. You stick it in your bag, anyway. A preserved uniform hangs loose on the bones. There is a mouth-sized tear in the forearm of the right sleeve, fitting for a bite. In the breast pocket, a silver chain spills out. Curiously, you grab it. A dog tag with an engraved name catches the light. John MacTavish. You run a thumb over the letters.

“Sorry, John.”

You decide to respectfully put it back in the pocket, and head out, satisfied enough with your modest finds. It’s not like you own as much as Ghost does. You leave the room and run to catch back up with them.

"You okay? Find anything?" Blue asks.

"Not much," you quietly admit. "A knife and some new socks."

"Finally. Your old ones are starting to stink," she remarks with a playful smirk.

You scrunch your nose at her, making a face. “Gee, thanks."

She returns the teasing gesture just before Ghost’s arm ushers her behind him.

The moment he does, your guard rises back up. You slap an arrow onto your bow. You smell them before you see them. Four - no, five - drag out of opened doorways up ahead along with a cacophony of whistled moans. Most are still dressed in the same military uniforms as the skeleton you found. One isn't wearing anything at all. It’s disgusting.

Ghost doesn't bother to let Blue practice this time.

He shoots the faster, fresher one first as it runs up to them. For the slower ones, he saves his ammo and opts for the axe. The sight of him effortlessly striking their skulls is almost enough to distract you. Almost. Your fingers release the string and send a headshot to the last one. It is a perfect shot. An arrow straight through the milky-white eye. One of your best.

You meet his eyes just as he slips the axe back to his waist, shooting him a raised brow. The two of you hold an awkwardly long stare-off. Though you loathe to admit it, you hope for some type of approval - for once - but all he gives is a short nod.

Blue retrieves the arrow for you and you tuck it back into your quiver.

"Great aim, Twix," she quips. "Where did you learn how to use your bow?"

"My old friend taught me a bit," you say as the three of you step over the fallen corpses.

"What was his name again?"

"Paul."

"Oh, right." She pauses, and then: "Were you having sex with him?"

"Jesus Christ, kid," Ghost says.

"What?" She peers up at him.

Before he can say anything else, you answer with a light flush crawling up your neck, “No, I wasn’t. He was just my friend.”

The three of you make it to the armory.

The aluminum door is already parted open. Ghost clicks on a flashlight and gives the room a quick sweep of fluorescent light before entering.

A number of pried-open crates and olive-green cabinets litter the inside. Drawers hang open like a tornado ripped through. A few stray rifles lay scattered on the floor. Ghost picks up each one and checks for cartridges. Empty. Each rifle is thrown back on the floor with more force than the previous. He needs more ammo, not more guns.

Whatever was in this armory is gone. This truth hangs heavy in the air. The mood shifts. Blue doesn’t talk. Billows of growing frustration roll off Ghost's body as he continues to search through every crevice and every drawer for almost an hour.

You know what he is feeling, even if he half-expected this.

It is a feeling that made you cry in the empty pharmacy. For Ghost, it ends up driving a clenched fist into one of the cabinets, dented metal left in its wake. He swears explosively. Another shudder runs through your spine, stealing your breath, but it feels far different from the one his soft voice invited.

"Is there... is there anywhere else we can check, Dad?" Blue speaks up softly. “Maybe in all those cars outside?”

He takes a moment to breathe before answering. "We don't have time to check ‘em all.”

“Well, maybe we could come back in the morning and look a bit more?”

“Maybe,” he says, but you read the tone in his voice. It is unlikely there is ammo left in the vehicles, and even if there is, it is definitely not as much as he was hoping to have found in here.

Before leaving, he stuffs one of the rifles in his backpack. An uncomfortable silence consumes the journey back through the hall.

You make it outside again. The afternoon has aged. You need to get back to that hunting cabin by the river before the threat of dark.

Ghost guides you back towards the fence.

You hear Blue's soft humming. The flap of the old flag. Your own steady heartbeat.

And then, out of nowhere, he stops and grabs Blue's arm to bring her to a halt beside him. He looks around. Confused, you scan the view up ahead of you, but all that is there are a few of those military jeeps and the fence you entered through. You sniff the air. It doesn't smell particularly awful. 

Then, the cause for Ghost's unease arrives loud in your ears.

A single gunshot sounds from a direction you can't discern. Your heart stutters. The suddenness freezes you for a moment. In your peripheral, you think you catch a brush of movement in some bushes to your right.

Ghost quickly pulls Blue behind one of the vehicles for cover. Only when you feel the rush of another bullet whizzing past your shoulder do your legs finally move— so fast that your feet catch on the ground and you stumble down beside them. Your knees dig into the earth as you land on your hands, but you quickly lift up and press your shoulder against the side of the car. 

You choke. "Ghost… people."

People are fucking shooting at us, is what you mean to say. Panic steals your voice.

Who? How many?

Another bullet ricochets off the other side of the car, clanking against the metal. And then another. Glass shatters. 

Ghost doesn't respond to you. Underneath the loud sounds, a soft voice whimpers. You finally look to where Blue is propped up against the large tire, Ghost kneeling at her front. His hand is tightly clamped over the side of her right thigh, and it is now that you notice the blood soaking through her jeans and his glove.

Blue's blood.

Crimson and glistening.

She whimpers again and her fingers twist the fabric of his coat.

"Dad, it— it feels like it's burning," she cries out, her cheeks turning wet from a sudden onslaught of tears.

"Fuck. I know, baby. I know."

She flinches when another gunshot rings out. "W-What do we do?"

You try to form a proper thought— try to make sense of everything. Before you can, Ghost grabs your hand, firmly replacing his hold on her wound with yours. The warm liquid immediately drenches your palm and you swallow, pressing as hard as you can, attempting to pack it crudely.

He speaks decisively. "Stay here with her. Wrap it up.”

"Ghost, you don't know how many fucking people there are," you say, panic turning your voice into something unrecognizable as you place your other hand on his arm. The muscles tense and leap.

“I didn't fucking ask you. I am telling you. Now do it."

He doesn’t give you the opportunity to protest again, but you wouldn’t even if he did because you fully realize that this is the best course of action. He needs to get rid of them. You need to tend to her wound. A strangled cry leaves Blue's lips when he departs. You coax her with soft hushes.

"It’s okay. He'll be right back.”

Urgently, you sling the bag off your shoulder and take out your own med kit. You don’t think twice about it. Not for a second. Not when all you can think about is making sure her soft, blue eyes stay open. When you move your hand from her thigh, the sight worries and relieves you at the same time.

You don't know much about bullet wounds, but you know where the femoral artery runs, and by the looks of it, it was missed. Still, a nice chunk of her flesh has been torn, revealing obliterated muscle. You don't see any bone or bits of metal, but it is hard to see much of anything with all the blood.

With fingers that shake, you use the same gauze she nursed your hand with to begin tightly dressing her thigh. As you do, your eyes flash up and around in a feeble search for where Ghost could be, but you can’t see him from behind the vehicle.

"Is it bad?" she asks, voice laced with a tremor. When your gaze returns to her, you notice that pale lips replace her usual rosy-pink ones. Her forehead is sheened with sweat.

"It looks worse than it is," you say.

"Are you... are you telling me the truth?"

"I am. Promise," you whisper. "Friends don't lie, right?"

Sporadic gunfire continues to pierce your ears. It sounds more distant now. You have no idea if it belongs to Ghost or whoever these people are. You push the uncertainties away, assuring yourself that he can handle however many of them there are, and focus on tying off the gauze, desperate to keep her blood in.

Blue suddenly blurts out, “Twix.”

You look up and meet her eyes. They are pointed at something behind you.

[evilminji]

Back at it again with the BNHA crossover Ponderings!

Nedzu is LITERALLY one of THE smartest beings on the planet, right? Like... he's probably on some internationally recognized list of Top Planetary IQs? Which is why Japan let's him get away with so much?

Cause they REALLY fucked him over, he has the power to leave, and that would be really, REALLY bad Brain Drain wise/politically for the Japanese Government? (Also pls don't become a Supervillian we literally can not afford that, Mr. Nedzu Sir? Etc etc)

You think he has... like? Chats? With the OTHER top intellects? Some kid in Siberia with the New Super Intelligence Quirk his parents can't begin to even handle, gets put in history's WEIRDEST group chat? I like to think so.

But the REASON I ask this?

What hero do you call? For Weird Shit in international waters?

Suspicious, floating, weirdly two dimensional and HIGHLY radioactive... corrosive... green goop? Rings? Orbs? CAN it be an orb if it's two dimensional? It certainly LOOKS like there is depth to it... somehow...

A THING. In the sky.

Shouldn't be there, man. This is a shipping lane. It's scaring the people on passing ships. No one knows what Quirk could have made this. Might be a trafficking victim's call for help. Might be a first Quirk Use mishap. They need to know what it IS and how to get rid of it.

They go the normal routes first. Doesn't work. Okay, call in some professionals. Kinda pricey, but no big. Right? Doesn't work. Okaaaay, call in a SPECIALIST. REAL pricey, but this thing is holding up international trade, making people in fancy ass suit all Nervous(TM).

Doesn't Work.

Specialist tells um to not to bother with calling anyone else on their normal list. Is looking at the green goo like it spat on his mother and called his dog a whore. They would prefer he NOT make that facial expression. That is a facial expression that will get them yelled at by their bosses. Fuck(TM).

Now Politics(TM) are involved. People want to STUDY the green goo. Harness it for dubious and unknown green goo experiments. Poke it with their Quirk to see what'll happen. There's fuckin REPORTER with no concept of self-preservation, trying to get CLOSER to the RADIOACTIVE POISON GOO.

Fuckin Heros have shown up.

Why are you bastards even HERE. What? Are you peacocks gonna PUNCH it? Get off their rig! Stop posing in front of the GOO!

Then? Oh thank GOD. The SMART people show up. Certified, highest grade, triple refined, PREMIUM Nerds(TM). The WAY above our pay grade folks. We're SAVED! Can we PLEASE go home now? We are just ocean cleaners! Our job is debris! Not weird GOO!

Enter, stage Super Cool Helicopters? The Elite Nerds of Earth. Of which Nedzu is one. Since Japan is closest. And it's a school weekend! He had some time.

And?

Ha ha... Thanks, he hates it! Nedzu's stoat brain is SCREAMING and he wants NOTHING to do with...? What he is somehow CERTAIN is a floating pit of Death! Interesting effect. Anyone getting that or just him?

Then? Some hot head on loan to Korea from the states? Spots something. SomeONE. And does he TELL the newly arrived professionals? So they may do a risk assessment? Figure out a way to rescue this individual SAFELY? Of course not!

Said hot head has supposedly indescribable chains! So he just flings them rights on in! Grabbing the boy from the center of the portal, pulling him free, and in the process? Immediately destabilizing it. Causing it to collapse down towards everyone bellow.

He also then proceeds to DROP the young lad, in his alarm at this entirely predictable outcome.

Right. Into. The Ocean.

A boy, who is dressed in filthy medical scrubs, haunting familiar in a way nothing should EVER be again, and entirely unconscious. Plunge down into the briny deeps and bitter cold. Alone. Abandoned. Death, thick and viscous, losing form and raining down like bile.

Everyone saving themselves.

Ah, he rather liked this suit.

The salt water ruins it. The droplets of Green, burn like molten glass each time they touch him. He will likely have at least a few new scars, after today. Assuming this is not the end of him. But he swims fast. The boy sinking slower then his size would suggest he should. He grabs hold and arcs, dragging them both from beneath the fallout of yet another humans hubris.

He does not stop swimming. Not until he knows he is near the helicopter. He is thankful, that he dragged Aizawa along. The man takes one look at his serious expression, the state of his rescued young friend, and merely hauls them both out of the water and into the machine.

Time to go.

They saw nothing, it seems. And there is nothing to be found.

The boy does not wake. Not for quite a while. Long enough, that Nedzu, perhaps unwisely, has grown attached. Is considering adoption. If only too terrorize a few goverment bodies. And... well... the boy will need some who UNDERSTANDS. And the scars paint a very specific sort of tale. But first, the most important question, when beginning these things...

"Tea? Or would you prefer coffee?"

@the-witchhunter @mutable-manifestation @hypewinter @hdgnj

[tokiwarcube]

How are the boys when their s/o is away on a trip for a while? Like which ones call constantly? Which ones are calm? Any have separation anxiety?

This was fun to think about, and very well timed! +Charles as well -- Enjoy! <3

Charles Foster Offdensen

Have fun for him, won’t you? Charles will absolutely miss you while you’re gone — with the lives you share, you don’t always have too much time to spend together, not to say that he won’t miss the time you do get — but he’s happy that you’ll be having a good time. His biggest worry is about your safety, but that’s nothing a few Klokateers can’t fix.

He looks forward to your nightly phone call more than ever — after a long day of running around, his steady voice is so nice to listen to. And you know, it’s funny — he’s already less stiff around you, but over the phone, he’s a little more willing to just be a bit silly. Especially as time goes on. Maybe it’s because of the distance that comes with a call. Maybe he just misses you.

And he’d be lying if he didn’t pay just a little bit more attention to the vibration of his phone, just in case you send him a text or a photo. He might not respond immediately, but he does look forward to hearing from you.

He does find himself thinking of you often — certain colors, trinkets, your interests… he’ll text you about them every now and then, just to let you know you’re in his thoughts.

Please send him a postcard or two, if you’re able. He likes physical items like that, especially if you scrawl a little note on the back.

10/10, he’ll be sure to take you on a nice date when you get home to make up for lost time.

Nathan Explosion

Listen, Nathan isn’t the most talkative man on Earth. Or in the States. Or in Mordhaus. Or, anywhere, really. No, his way of showing love is through spending time together. He loves getting up in the afternoon morning with you, going through your morning routine, watching you pick out your outfits… loves to just you know, exist with you. He thought he was going to be fine while you were gone, but everyone in a 30mi radius could tell he was not.

Spoiler alert: He is not.

He’s awkward on phonecalls, and is abysmal on videocalls (can’t hold a phone straight to save his life), so while he will 100% try, he’s not… he’s not great. But you know, just keep him updated with your daily activities — send photos of your adventures, of your outfit choices in the morning, of the random shit you found in the shops… it makes him feel just a little less alone. And he’ll try to do the same, even if the photos are always weirdly out of focus. He does better at the random voice notes he’ll send to you — now those, those make you feel more at home. It’s usually just some random thing he’s been thinking of — maybe it’s a random verse he’s been noodling at, maybe it’s an idea for some new too-expensive project, maybe it’s just some random thought that won’t leave him alone. But they mean a lot.

Other than that, he does fairly decent at distracting himself — if there was any time for a good-old friender-bender, it’s now.

5/10, Pickles is doing his damndest to keep him away from the tequila.

Pickles the Drummer

He’s been preparing for this day from the moment you put it on the calendar. He just knows he’s going to be horrific, going to spin himself in circles, going to chew his own arm off, and—

He’s actually fine. He thought he was going to be shaking like a chihuahua in your absence, but all things considered, he’s actually pretty damn okay! I mean yeah, he looks forward to your call at night, and he gets a bit sad if you ever have to miss it, but he’s not basing his entire day around the void your absence has made. Part of that comes from the photos you send throughout the day — he knows you haven’t just fucked off and abandoned him, which honestly, was his biggest worry. The other half of his nonchalance comes with his lifestyle. I wouldn’t say he’s drinking more now that you’re gone, but also… he’s bored. He’s not drinking himself to death, mind you, it’s just… Pickles.

He for sure gets a bit sappier when he’s really under the influence — he will be showing photos of your adventures to anyone who will listen. And to anyone who won’t. He’s glad you’re having a good time, genuinely.

Might as well go on a good old friender-bender while he has the time, though.

9/10, surprisingly normal, but someone should really look into his liver — how it hasn’t shut down by now is anyone’s guess.

Skwisgaar Skwigelf

When its time for your trip, he thinks he’s gonna do great in your absence. Love you to death, but it’ll be nice to play guitar in the middle of the night again without having to worry about waking you up. And he can finally watch that horror movie you said he’d hate because for some reason you’re convinced that he hates them. Oh! And he can finally try his hand at drinking Nathan under the table again, and—

He has a whole list of stupid shit planned out, and he doesn’t even make it an hour before he’s smacked with a very crushing loneliness. He finds himself turning to murmur to you, only to have your usual space just… empty.

The weight of your absence is stunning, and he refuses to admit how much he misses you. But you can take a guess, with how much he draws out your midnight phonecalls. And really, its hard to keep up the dirty talk for that long without getting cliche— how about you just tell him about your day?

4/10, emotionally constipated Swedish man ends up in ER with repetitive strain injuries to the fingers and wrist, more news at 10:00.

Toki Wartooth

Toki considers himself to be fairly adaptable. I mean sure, he misses you half to death, but he can function without you. Plus, he always has his memory boxes and scrapbooks for when he’s particularly longing, and he always has the ability to call!

By which I mean, he’s calling you almost any chance he gets. But to be fair, that’s not too much different from when you’re at home — he just likes to talk to you. He keeps you updated on all of the shenanigans at Mordhaus, so you never really feel too far from home. But now that you’re off on your own adventure, he wants to hear all about it! Please send him photos!

Genuinely, he does great at surviving without you. That is, until it comes time to sleep — he didn’t realize how good you were at keeping the nightmares at bay. Expect a slightly longer call at night — he probably won’t tell you about the nightmares, but he does get a bit whinier about you coming home.

8/10, surprisingly adaptable, but please bring him a trinket. No, it does not matter that he could buy every item in the country thrice over — he would still like a little trinket.

William Murderface

He does not miss you, he’s just buying a casket and writing his will because it’s a fun, Tuesday activity.

Okay, he’s lying, he misses you so fucking much it’s unreal. It just feels weird to, you know, say it like that. He’d be calling you 24/7 if you weren’t out and about, living your life. So instead, he texts. There’s no obligation to respond immediately, mind you… but a few updates here and there would be deeply appreciated.

He tries his absolute best to distract himself while you’re gone — maybe Planet Piss will finally get it’s first EP down (false) — with varying success. His chief method of distraction comes to hanging out with the band… and the boys are texting you by the end of the week to please come home, because they’re having to beat him off with a stick. He’s also weirdly agitated with everyone but you, which certainly doesn’t help matters… but on the phone, he’s just as soft as could be.

3/10, he’s going to chew his own leg off at this rate. Someone save him, please.

[hollisxwrites]

Hi, can you do a short piece for Luke Castellan x reader, where Luke saves a mortal reader from a monster and they fall in love please?

as long as i'm with you, hero

gif is not mine!

THANK YOU FOR YOUR REQUEST!!!

word count: 1.1k

warnings: one singular swear word, reader calls luke a pretty boy, slight mentions of violence, overall just fluffy and cute, probably a little ooc and definitely doesn't follow the main plot.

summary: after luke saves the {reader} from a horrifying monster, they fall in love. that's it, that's the plot.

Before I even knew it, a creature I had only ever heard of in myths was approaching me. I was terrified when I saw the Antaeus, an ugly, brooding, red creature nearing where I sat on a bench in Central Park. I looked around, hoping someone saw the demon too, but no one even looked up. I felt crazy, deranged even, hoping, and praying to any and every god I knew possibly existed. I didn’t want to die today. I was frozen onto the cold, metal bench, not knowing whether to run for my life or not, wondering if I was hallucinating all of this. The creature was ten feet away from me. Well shit. I thought. I didn’t know I was dying today. 

Suddenly, as the creature continued to tramp towards me, a young man, about my age, in a highlighter orange tee-shirt ran at the monster head on. I was shocked. I thought I was the one who could see the horrible thing, but apparently, the handsome boy with the dark curls could see him, too. His sword slashed at the creature, but every wound the boy inflicted on him was healed by the Earth. I guess Gaea was his mother. The boy, then coming up with a strategy, jumped up on the monster and hoisted him up with his...what is that? Flying shoes? Then, he sliced the head of the monster, and it turned into ash. The boy fell to the ground with a sickening smack. He didn’t move, so I rushed towards him. No one in the crowd looked at the poor boy, except me. Could no one see what was happening except me? I rushed to the boys side, kneeling down on the ground. I placed a hand on his chest to make sure his heart was beating, and it was. His breath was steady, but it looked like he must of fainted from impact, possibly having a concussion. I couldn't tell if he hit his head or not. I shook him slightly, and then again, when eventually his eyes fluttered open, and oh my god, his eyes were stunning.  

“Are you alright?” I asked, concerned about the boy. He winced a little bit when he tried to sit up, obviously embarrassed to be lying flat on the cold ground.   

He sighed and winced at the sun that was directly in his eyes. “I’ve been better. Who are you anyways? Did you see everything that just happened?” 

I nodded my head. “Yeah. I feel like I’m the only one who saw the Antaeus until you came out of nowhere.” 

“Well, I guess you’re just different, like me.” He met my eyes, and I swear I could feel my heart beat out of my chest just looking at this stranger. “What’s your name?” 

“My name is {reader}. What’s yours? Thank you for saving me, by the way. I would probably be dead by now if it wasn’t for you.” 

He finally sat up to meet face me, ruffling his hair, trying to make it look a little more presentable, I assumed. “Luke. Luke Castellan. And, you’re welcome. Never hurts to help a pretty person like you.” 

“Nice to meet you, Luke.” I said, blushing slightly. “Now tell me, what just happened and why could I see something no one but you could?”  

That day, Luke told me all about the world of demigods, Greek myths, and gods, and how everything that I have been told about them is real. He told me that his father, Hermes, abandoned him to fend for himself a long time ago, and now, nine years later, he was here, fighting off monsters for a camp that he felt didn’t appreciate him.  

Something else I discovered that day was that I am in love with Luke Castellan. His dark eyes and scar on the side of his face that I wanted so badly to kiss, and his demeanor of confidence that I learned was a ruse all made me fall deeply in love with him.  

All of this happened six months ago, and now, this mysterious demigod who saved my life is my boyfriend, and I am an honorary member of Camp Halfblood, due to my inclination to see through what the people at the camp call the mist, which put me in danger. The camp was beautiful, and I learned skills such as sparing, archery, and sword fighting. I spent time with Luke on the beautiful sunny days that seemed to last forever at the camp. 

I was walking across the archery field in my camp tee-shirt and bathing suit, using my hand to cover my face from the sun. I was alone, or so I thought, when all the sudden I heard footsteps following me to the lake. I looked back and saw the beautiful face of my even more beautiful boyfriend. I paused my walking and let him catch up to me. He picked me up in his arms and spun me around. I let out a joyful laugh, holding on to him in order not to hit the ground. He sat me down carefully and looked into my eyes, smiling his gorgeous smile that captivated me all those months ago. 

“Hi.” He said, smiling down at me. The sun hit his face at the perfect angle, illuminating all his features that I loved so much. He looked like a god, and I guess that was fitting, because he technically was partially one.  

“Hi, pretty boy.” I replied, in awe of him. My hands rested on his shoulders as I continued to admire every part of his face. My fingers went up to trace the scar on his face up and down. He relished the feeling, leaning onto my hand. I moved to caress his face, embracing his warmth.  

His eyes fluttered to my lips, and I smiled at him, pressing my body closer to his. He pressed our lips together, and every time, I felt blissful. He tasted like sugar and sunshine, and he was so gentle and soft with me. He started to press kisses all over my face, causing my face to warm up, not due to how hot it is. He placed one more lingering kiss to my lips, grinning into me. He grabbed my hand.  

“Let’s got swim, sweetheart.”  

“Anything as long as I’m with you, hero.” 

He smiled, pressing a kiss to my neck as we walked. I hoped in this moment that these days of sunshine and my pretty boyfriend never ended.  

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 78

Part 1 Part 77

Eddie always thought he’d be in jail before all this hard labor bullshit starts. Still, here he is, chipping away at the cold earth with a shovel Mama Byers stole from Merill’s shed. And it’s all to save the same man who’s busted his balls more times than he can count.

But Steve had pointed, and Eddie’d started digging. 

He’s sitting now, criss-cross as he stares down at the ground like he can see through it, feet crossed, and t-shirt on backwards. Eddie had thrown it over his head as Steve walked out of the house, while While stuffed his sockless feet into his tennis shoes as best as he could. It’s not right. He’s not right. 

Eddie can still feel the thread tying them together, but it’s brittle now, obvious next to the nylon still twined between Eddie and Will. 

Steve’s barely there at all.

He’s always lived in an empty house, been an empty house. The thing inside him is just the first to take up residence – to fill the vacancy. 

Eddie wants his empty house back.

He’d spent a year watching Steve blossom, filling that emptiness with laughter and cooking and someone to come home to. Eddie’d helped Steve move in, rearrange the furniture in his mind and feng shui that shit until the sun was always shining. He’d seen the curtains begin to open.

It’s jarring, now, to look into his eyes and see the glassy windows of an abandoned home. 

So Eddie does all he can; he digs. The hole grows bigger and bigger, growing at the same rate as the blister on the side of his right thumb. He takes turns with Mama Byers, her lithe frame hiding surprising strength. 

She’s the one at the mantle when the shovel strikes air. She pushes it down hard, gasping as it falls straight through, clattering somewhere below with the dull thud of metal on packed earth. 

“Well, shit,” she says, staring down at the far-too small hole in the earth, just big enough to lose a shovel in. 

Eddie peers down with her, eyeing the loosened sides and the distance of the drop. “Think we can stomp the rest out?”

“I don’t think that’s–” Mama Byers starts, but Eddie’s already stomped down.

The dirt crumbles easier than he expects, like all it wants is to tumble down into the unknown with the shovel. Eddie’s whole foot goes through, and he tumbles down with it. 

It’s not far, but he lands on the handle of the shovel, feels it reverberate up his spine. He closes his eyes against the pain, groaning as he rolls away from the impact site. 

“Eddie?” Will and Mama Byers both call down to him. He opens his eyes to look up at their worried faces, haloed by the dim gray of the November sky. Steve doesn’t make an appearance, but he can still dimly feel him up there.

“I’m fine!” he calls, hoisting himself onto knees and hands and hoping it’s true. 

His ankle twinges as he gets it under him but it holds his weight as he levers himself upright. He barely even notices the pain because then he sees him: Hopper. He’s on the ground, and he’s not moving, as the vines writhe around him.

“Shit!” Eddie cries, rushing over and dropping down next to the man. “Shit, shit, shit!”

He says it like a mantra, barely noticing Mama Byers calling down at him, demanding he tell her what’s happening. 

Eddie yanks at the vine, trying to wrench it from the man’s throat with little success. He sobs when Hopper croaks out a quiet, “knife.” It’s the first sign of life the man’s shown and Eddie will take it with both hands. 

“Where?” Eddie cries. “Where is it?”

“It’s there!” Mama Byers calls. She’s collapsed on the ground, winded from her own fall into the tunnel. Eddie follows her pointing finger to his right.

He lurches for it as Mama Byers crawls up to take his place holding the vines away from Hopper’s windpipe.

Eddie saws at the vine around his neck, around his torso, around his wrists. He loses time to hacking away, barely noticing the viscous black blood that oozes out of it and splatters his clothes, hands, face. 

All he knows is Steve’s barely there at all anymore, and this is the same fucking thing that had slithered down his throat

 and made its home inside him in the first place. 

He can hear Hopper coughing, Mama Byers calling his name, but it’s all muffled, like he’s under water. Like he’s still in the Harrington pool, drowning. Like he never made it to the other side. 

Maybe he didn’t. 

Maybe he’s still down there, sucking down chlorine like it’ll quench his thirst. At least down there, he’d had a hold on Steve. But, now, he can feel the tether turning to ash in his mouth. He’s so thirsty. He wants to swallow the world.

“Munson”

He keeps hacking away at the vines, like they’ll stop strangling Stevie. Like this will be the thing that saves them.

“Eddie.”

Like they’re what’s strangling him, smoke and helplessness clogging Steve’s esophagus and making a home within him. 

“Kid!”

There are warm hands gripping his wrist, hard. Warmer than Steve’s been. Eddie looks up, and Hopper’’s staring at him, ragged and dirty and panting, but alive. Eddie looks down at the wrist he’s holding. Hopper’s knife is clutched hard enough that it hurts. 

“You got them,” Hopper says, voice that soothing, gruff timber he uses on little kids, and victims. “You can let go.” He squeezes Eddie’s wrist before loosening his hold and running his thumb up the veins of his inner wrist. “You saved me, kid. You did good.”

It hurts when he drops the knife, tendons protesting the change of position after he knows how long clenching down. Hopper drops his wrist, clasping his shoulder and squeezing that instead. “You did good,” he says again, and then again, like that’ll stop Eddie’s shaking. It doesn’t.

Eddie nods, still looking down at the knife. His hand clenches on air. He feels bereft, so he pulls on the threads that bind. One made of titanium, and one made of dust he can barely feel at all. 

He jerks his head up at the ceiling, straining his neck to see Steve and Will’s faces. He needs to know that they’re both still there, waiting for him to come back. That Steve’s still Steve, waiting for Eddie to save him. 

Steve’s always dying. Eddie’s always trying to save him. 

But Steve’s not there at all. 

There’s just dirt, only a shovel as proof of the morning spent digging a hole. Digging a grave for them to disappear in. 

“No, no, no!” Eddie cries, scrambling up. 

“Munson, what–”

“He’s gone!” He lurches forward, grabbing for the shovel, like he can somehow dig his way back. He hears Mama Byers gasp as he pushes the shovel up into the dirt. It doesn’t give. He pushes harder.

“Eddie, sweetie.” Mama Byers says, reaching up to pat his shoulder. “Will’s got him.” 

Will’s got him. Will, who’s bright light he can feel at Steve’s side, just above. Will’s got him.

Eddie drops the shovel on a sob, still looking, up, up, up.

“But how are we going to get out of her?” Eddie asks. No one answers because no one knows.

Digging a hole and escaping a grave are two very different things. 

Like the answer to a prayer Eddie would never send up, there’s a shout behind him. “Go!”

Eddie spins, and there’s a man in a Hvac suit, with a gun pointed straight at him. He stumbles back, feels Mama Byers’ steadying hands on his lower back. 

“Get out of here!” the man calls, voice muffled through his helmet. He gestures with the butt of his gun behind him. “Go! Go!”

Eddie flits by him, keeping as much distance as the small tunnel will allow just as something inhuman begins shrieking behind him. 

He doesn’t hesitate anymore. He bolts, Mama Byers and Hop hot on his heels, visions of Demogon’s on his heels pushing him faster. 

He passes more suits and more guns, and keeps going. The ground begins sloping upward toward the light of an open tunnel. He stops for a second, shocked by an end to the darkness.

The safety of right-side-up is steps away. The warmth of light and air and his people are so close, he can almost taste it. 

That’s when the screaming starts, from a voice he would know anywhere. Even like this. Even loud and wretched with pain. 

Eddie runs toward the sounds of his angel screaming. 

Part 79

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