#waiting for the next time everything is snatched away for a blink

[whatsfourteenupto]

I know we all laugh at Fourteen and Donna screwballing the universe and then immediately tapping out of the storyline in favor of oops-not-vegan casseroles in the backyard but

What was Fourteen up to during the Devil’s Chord? What were any of the previous Doctors up to? We saw with Mavity that they’re at least somewhat aware of changes in the time stream. Did Maestro change things so dramatically that the Doctor had never fallen in love with Earth in the first place? Or did Fourteen blink and open his eyes to find the Earth he knew, the one they’d been slowly learning to live and rest in day by day, gone? Changed irrevocably, Donna, Rose, YazRoryAmyWilfGrahamBillRoseallofthem maybe never even born? Blink again and they’re all back, unaware that it’s even happened? The panic that could have brought, as he realizes that they’ve surrendered the mantle to his new self, and trusted themselves to keep the universe spinning, but now that means he’s helpless. If their future self fucks up, they’re irrevocably screwed too. No way to find out what’s going on, nothing they can do, their entire timeline relying on a version of them they barely know.

Alternatively, Fourteen blinking, seeing London in flames, finding a nice hunk of broken concrete to sit down on, and sighing impatiently as they wait for himself to hurry up and fucking fix it so they can finish beating Rose at Uno

[agirlnamedelia]

Price Tag and Credit Card Limits || Katsuki x Reader

Genre: fluff Pairing: Katsuki x FEM!Reader Synopsis: You were shopping with Bakugou but every time you saw the price tag, you just had to put it back.

You wandered into the boutique with an excited gleam in your eyes, the vibrant window display pulling you in like a moth to a flame. The racks were lined with beautiful clothes in every style imaginable, each piece seemingly tailored to your taste. Today was supposed to be a treat-yourself day, but as always, the guilt of spending too much loomed over you.

Bakugou had given you his credit card with his usual gruff dismissal, "Just get whatever the hell you want, damn it." It was his way of caring, and though you appreciated his generosity, you couldn't help but feel hesitant to spend his money so freely. He might be your sugar daddy, but that didn’t mean you had to act like some kind of gold digger.

You strolled through the store, picking up a cute blouse here, a stylish jacket there. The soft, silky fabric of a dress caught your attention, and you lifted it off the rack, holding it against your body as you admired it in the mirror. It was perfect—the kind of dress that made you feel like you could conquer the world. But as you glanced at the price tag, your heart sank.

"10,000 yen…" you muttered under your breath, eyes widening slightly.

You quickly hung the dress back on the rack, pretending to yourself and anyone watching that it wasn’t that great anyway. “Hmm, yeah, maybe not my style,” you murmured, moving on to the next item.

From across the store, Bakugou watched you with a keen eye. He wasn’t a fool; he could see the way your eyes lit up when you found something you liked, only to dim the moment you saw the price. It pissed him off a bit, honestly. What was the point of giving you his card if you were just going to put everything back?

He gritted his teeth, waiting until you had moved on to another section of the store before slipping over to the dress you had been eyeing. It was a deep emerald green, a color he knew would look stunning on you. “Excuse me,” he grunted to the nearest salesperson. “Can you get me this in whatever size they just had, and if you have it in a couple more colors, that’d be great.”

The salesperson blinked up at him, wide-eyed. “Of course, sir. Right away.”

Satisfied, Bakugou wandered back towards the center of the store, hands shoved in his pockets as he kept an eye on you. He didn’t get it. If you liked something, just get it. Money wasn’t an issue, and he wanted you to be happy.

You, meanwhile, had moved on to the accessories, fingers grazing over a row of necklaces and bracelets. One necklace in particular caught your eye—a delicate gold chain with a small, heart-shaped pendant. You reached out, your fingers brushing the cool metal, but again, you hesitated. The price tag stared back at you, mocking your hesitation.

With a sigh, you put it back, mumbling to yourself, “Maybe another time…”

Bakugou was already on the move before you had even turned away. He nodded subtly to the salesperson who had been helping him, pointing out the necklace. “Add that, too.”

This little game went on for a while. You would find something you liked, check the price, and then put it back with a wistful expression. And every time, Bakugou would follow behind you, snatching up the item and adding it to his growing pile.

Finally, you made your way to the fitting rooms with a few of the more reasonably priced items you’d picked out, unaware of the surprise that was awaiting you. As you tried on a simple sweater, Bakugou leaned against the wall outside, arms crossed over his chest.

When you stepped out, he eyed you critically, giving a small nod of approval. “Looks good,” he said simply, though his eyes flickered with a hint of satisfaction.

You smiled, doing a little twirl for him. “Thanks! I think I’ll get this one.”

Bakugou merely grunted in response, his expression giving nothing away.

As you headed towards the register, ready to make your purchase, the salesperson hurried over with a large garment bag and a smaller jewelry box. “Here you are, sir,” she said, smiling warmly. “Everything you requested, all packed up.”

You blinked in confusion, looking between Bakugou and the salesperson. “Everything…you requested?”

Bakugou smirked, stepping forward and casually handing over his credit card. “Yeah, everything. Including the stuff you kept putting back.”

Your eyes widened as the realization hit you. “Bakugou! You didn’t…”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “What? You think I didn’t notice you eyeing all that stuff and then chickening out ‘cause of the price tag?” He shook his head, his tone softer than usual. “I told you to get whatever you want, didn’t I?”

You felt a flush creep up your cheeks, embarrassment and gratitude swirling together in your chest. “I just… I didn’t want to spend too much…”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, but there was a fondness in his gaze that made your heart skip a beat. “It’s my money, and I want to spend it on you. So stop worrying about it, okay? Just let me spoil you a little, damn it.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words, warmth flooding through you. “Thank you, Bakugou. Really, I… I appreciate it.”

He shrugged, his cheeks tinging just slightly pink. “Yeah, yeah, don’t get all sappy on me now.”

The cashier finished ringing up everything, and Bakugou grabbed the bags, handing them to you with a gruff nod. “Here. Let’s get outta here before you start crying or something.”

You laughed, taking the bags from him and leaning up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “You’re the best, you know that?”

He snorted, looking away to hide the way his ears turned red. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let’s just go, dumbass.”

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[magniloquent-raven]

When they first start dating (actually spending time together with their clothes on for once) Billy is completely unwilling to let Steve hold his hand. 100% against it. Snatching his hand away with varying levels of subtlety every time Steve's fingers get anywhere near his.

Steve tries not to take it personally. Billy's not that kind of touchy-feely, he supposes. Hand-holding is childish. It's what kids do when they like someone. Billy's made it very clear that he thinks it's stupid. Sometimes he withdraws entirely, folding his arms and tucking his hands under his elbows, snug against his torso where they stay hidden until Billy's posture can return to some semblance of normal and stops resembling a feral cat that's been cornered.

Sometimes he just redirects and tells Steve he can think of better things to do with his hands.

And it's not like Steve means to keep reaching for Billy's hand. He's not doing it on purpose, he's just. On dumb romantic autopilot or something. He gets warm fuzzy feelings and his brain turns to mush.

Which is why, when Billy falls asleep on the couch next to him, his fingers loosely perched on Steve's thigh, Steve starts caressing his knuckles. There's no thought behind it, he's half-asleep himself, barely watching the movie they've got on, lightly tracing scars he's mapped with his eyes but has never been allowed to touch.

By the time the credits roll Steve is dozing against Billy's shoulder, and he's got Billy's hand clutched in both of his, tucked securely between his palms.

He feels Billy startle, jolting awake, fingers twitching, then his whole body going carefully still. Steve doesn't feel like moving yet. So he doesn't.

The longer Billy goes without pulling his hand out of Steve's, the more awake Steve gets. The more aware he is of the fact that he's holding Billy's hand. It's a beautiful, shining little bubble of a moment, the warmth of him and the thrill of a first. Steve's sure that it'll be over if he moves an inch, so he pretends to sleep while Billy squirms in jerky little twitches, the motion of someone trying very hard not to let their restlessness win.

When his palm starts to sweat, Steve wonders if he's uncomfortable or just nervous, and why he doesn't just move away like he always does.

It's nearly impossible to pretend to sleep through Billy being confusing and indescribably endearing, so Steve shifts in place, turning his head to nuzzle against Billy's shoulder.

His hand is gone before Steve's even begun sleepily opening his eyes.

Confusing. Endearing.

Steve kisses his collarbone. "I was awake the whole time, you know."

"...So?" His casual tone is incredibly fake. Steve grins.

"Sooo..." It's only a little mocking, but Billy still flicks his knee in retaliation. "What's the deal, Hargrove."

"Dunno what you're talking about."

"Oh, please."

After a pause, Billy mumbles something, too quickly for Steve to make out.

"Hm?"

Billy groans. "My hands sweat."

Steve lifts his head to blink at him. The glow from the TV is just bright enough to see the flush on Billy's cheeks. "So?"

"It's." Billy rubs the back of his neck. "It's fucking embarrassing, okay?"

"I've literally licked the sweat off your body, why—" He squints at Billy's pursed lips and downcast gaze. He's trying so hard not to look nervous. He always tries so hard to pretend he's better than that, he's gotta be Mr Cool about everything—wait. "Oh. My god. Oh, that's adorable, holy shit. You know it's okay that it makes you nervous, right?"

"Fuck off."

"No, seriously, that's—I fucking love you." It tumbles out of him like it's the most natural thing in the world. He doesn't think about it, he doesn't have to, it's just true, and...

Billy makes a strangled noise. "Oh?" He's still trying to sound unaffected, and it's even less convincing than it was before.

Steve kisses him. He can't not.

Some time during the awkward tangle of Steve hauling himself into Billy's lap, rearranging their limbs without stopping to breathe, Billy catches Steve's hand. And laces their fingers together.

[erikahenningsen]

Rejanis idea that's been floating around my head if you want it: Gretchen shares her "Songs Regina Hates" playlist with Janis. Janis plays it whenever she wants to annoy Regina (often).

"Ew, what the fuck is this?"

"You've never heard 'Don't Stop Believin''?" Janis asks, a little incredulously.

Regina cuts her eyes to Janis briefly before turning back to the road. "Of course I've heard it. Why are we listening to it?"

"Do you not like it?"

"No. Change it."

Janis bites her lip to keep from laughing, and hits the skip button on her Spotify playlist—the one Gretchen had shared with Janis when Janis and Regina started dating so she would know what not to play around Regina. The one titled "Songs Regina Hates." The one Janis has been waiting for the precise right time to play.

There's some big accident on I-90, which has resulted in bumper-to-bumper traffic. They're going to be in this car for the foreseeable future, and they're barely moving, which means that, if necessary, Janis can open the door and roll out before Regina can kill her.

The opening notes of "Mambo No. 5" start playing and Regina visibly grinds her teeth.

"Next," Regina says shortly.

Dutifully, Janis skips to the next song: "Uptown Funk."

Regina turns to fully look at Janis, eyebrows knitted together and mouth tense. "What the fuck is this playlist?"

"Just some of my favorite songs," Janis replies, clenching the muscles in her stomach to keep from laughing.

"These are not your favorite songs, you hipster bitch," Regina shoots back.

"You don't know everything about me," Janis says.

Regina lets out a big sigh, like the fact that Janis is still alive and in Regina's presence is some enormously burdensome gift. "Just... change it."

"You got it," Janis says enthusiastically, hitting the skip button and letting Ed Sheeran's "Thinking Out Loud" play.

Before Janis can blink, Regina's hand shoots out and snatches Janis's phone out of her hand.

"Hey!" Janis protests, reaching for it.

Regina knocks her hand away. "Janis, stop. I'm driving."

"You took my phone," Janis says incredulously.

Regina ignores her, looking at the screen. "'Songs Regina Hates'? What the fuck is this? Are you so obsessed with me that you keep track of the music I don't like?"

"The only person obsessed with you is you," Janis says, grabbing the phone back.

"Says the person who texted me I can't stop thinking about you this morning," Regina replies, eyebrow raised.

"You've literally texted me the words I'm obsessed with you." Janis crosses her arms.

"I said I was obsessed with your boobs, not you."

In retaliation, Janis changes the song to "Old Town Road."

"Who the fuck made this?" Regina demands, reaching out to whack Janis on the arm without looking away from the road.

"I was sworn to secrecy," Janis insists, dodging the hit.

Regina narrows her eyes. "I'll find out."

It's probably meant to sound threatening—and it probably would be, to someone else—but Janis just rolls her eyes.

"Can we please listen to some normal music," Regina says exasperatedly.

"Okay," Janis says in a mock-defeated tone.

About ten seconds into "Lose Yourself" by Eminem, Regina reaches out and presses a few buttons on the console, disconnecting Janis's phone from the bluetooth.

"Hey!" Janis cries. "That's so rude."

Regina cuts her a withering look. "Second option was throwing your phone out the window."

Janis huffs out a breath, irritated despite the fact that she was deliberately annoying Regina for her own amusement.

Regina glances at her, looking amused. "Don't pout."

"I'm not pouting," Janis denies. "You're just mean to me."

Regina's smile morphs into something different, something almost... predatory.

"I'm not mean," Regina says. "In fact, I'm very generously going to give you a chance to make it up to me when we get home."

Janis frowns, confused. "Make what up to you?"

"Allegedly enjoying the worst songs known to humanity."

Janis snorts. "I'm sooo sorry."

Regina reaches over and places a possessive hand on Janis's leg, fingers digging into the inside of her thigh. It makes Janis shiver, and, judging by her smirk, Regina notices.

Regina gives Janis a look that makes little sparks zip down her spine.

"You better be."

[captain-hawks]

Spicy sleepover round V let's goooo!!

Levi Ackerman and a (crowded / empty / very dark / secluded corner of a) bar 🍸

I love reading these spicy sleepovers, can't wait to read all of them!

precision

levi ackerman x f!reader

In which a dark, quiet corner of the bar and a glass of bourbon finally earns you Levi Ackerman's undivided attention.

wc: 1.8k

c: 18+ only, modern au, brat!reader, musician!levi, semi-public sexual activities, spit kink, alcohol, oral fixation, finger sucking, fingering

SPICY SLEEPOVER WEEKEND - PART V

It’s tangible—this steady, relentless itch of heat that blisters incessantly between yourself and the man sitting beside you in the booth, black strands of hair falling across his forehead as he runs a slender finger along the rim of his glass.

There’s a new tattoo nestled in the ditch of his elbow, the colors vibrant amongst the healed ink that crawls up and down the rest of his right arm. 

It’s distracting.

Like everything else about him. 

Levi Ackerman is difficult to parse out, an enigma that you’ve yet to untangle in the years since he joined your brother’s band. 

An enigma that you like to poke and prod and annoy, if only to push him—

“Does your tendency to be a brat coincide with certain business hours that I can aim to avoid?” he idly asks as you begin to drum your nails against his glass.

It’s dark and secluded in this back corner of the bar, though a bustling crowd still remains pooled around the stage. You’ve long-since lost sight of your brother, Furlan, and Isabel, who abandoned the two of you to watch the next band.

And now, it’s become a bit of a game at this point—seeing how many times you can draw out the disapproving click of Levi’s tongue against the back of his teeth in one night. 

(Part of you would even swear he enjoys it, this constant back and forth that sways from your possession to his.)

“You get the overtime special,” you smile sweetly. 

Levi sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, the silver ring on his middle finger glinting ever so slightly in the dim light. And that’s when you spot it, the unassuming black hair tie you’d quickly dug out of your purse weeks ago when he needed a rubber band right before going on stage. Now, the thin, braided material is pressed snugly against his wrist, almost lost in the swirl of ink that trails atop his hand. 

You probably would have noticed it earlier during their set, if you weren’t so wholly distracted by the sight of him playing the guitar—the complete and utter unraveling of his reserved demeanor beneath the heat of the stage lights, sweat dripping down the side of his neck as his fingers swept across the fretboard, steely gray eyes alight with the same fervor that always leaves you breathless in the audience.

It’s things like this that make you want to keep pushing, despite his aloof ways.

“What’s wrong with your drink?” he asks, brows furrowed in annoyance as he watches you slowly drag his glass toward you by the thin cardboard coaster it’s sitting atop.

He jerks his chin at the half-full bottle of beer sitting beside your forearm, and you shrug, fingers wrapping around his cup as you bring it up toward your lips, the scent of bourbon crawling up your nostrils.

A hand wraps around your wrist, halting the cup’s progress mere centimeters from your mouth, and you meet Levi’s gaze as he flexes his fingers and raises an eyebrow.

“Would it kill you to say please?”

You lean forward, lips just barely brushing against the rip of the glass before he snatches it away fully, holding it out of your reach. He considers you for a moment, a look passing over his face as he seems to come to a decision. The next band starts to play, the room filling with sound as live music pours from the speakers, and he leans in, lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“Open your mouth.”

You shudder at the contact, blinking a few times in confusion as he leans back, a small smirk playing at the corners of his lips. When you don’t immediately respond, he mouths at you—

‘OPEN’

You’re not sure what you’re expecting when you let your lips fall open, eyes carefully tracking the way Levi takes a sip from the glass.

But he doesn’t swallow it.

Instead, he slides closer again, hovering over top of you this time as he presses his thumb to your bottom lip, fingertips skirting the curve of your jaw as he pushes your mouth open wider.

And then he spits the bourbon directly into your mouth.

The liquor burns as you swallow, finding good company amongst the blazing inferno currently unfurling in your gut at a pace so rapid, it leaves you dizzy in your seat.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, so quietly you’d barely hear it, if not for the brief dip in sound during a break between songs.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think this whole situation’s barely drawn a reaction out of him, even as he’s using his thumb to wipe away the trail of bourbon that spilled down the side of your chin.

But the thing is, you do know better. You can see it in the tick of his jaw, the subtle dilation of his pupils. His grip against the glass. 

The ever so slight tilt of his head as he assesses you.

And you know that if you played it off, Levi would drop this all like it never happened. He’d down the rest of the glass and slide out of the booth like he didn’t just spit his drink between your lips.

But the air that hangs between you is too thick with intent to not go stumbling directly into the heady fog of it.

“I’m still thirsty.”

Levi blinks once, the only indication that you’ve surprised him before he shrugs, taking another sip. Although this time, when he leans in, it’s the back of your head where his hand comes to rest before his lips press against yours.

It’s not quite a kiss as he uses his lips to ease your mouth open, letting the bourbon spill onto your tongue.

It’s not quite a kiss—the shape of his mouth on yours as you swallow another shot of liquor.

But then you swipe your tongue across the remaining hint of bourbon that lingers on his bottom lip—and Levi surges forward, kissing you hard. 

It’s precise, the way his mouth slots against yours, the pressure of his tongue, the caress of his fingertips along the side of your neck, the sharp bite of his teeth into the plush swell of your bottom lip. 

Levi kisses you like he knows how fucking dizzy with arousal you already are, like he’s well aware you’re on the verge of begging him to spit the rest of the bourbon in your mouth, too. Your left hand grasps the edge of the seat beneath you for purchase.

You have half a mind to crawl into his lap, if only to see if he’d deny you relief of the hot, aching tension simmering between your legs.

“We’re not doing that here,” he murmurs as he pulls back from the kiss slightly, not missing the way you clench your thighs together.

You expect him to leave it at that—you wouldn’t put anything past him, at this rate. But instead, he dips two fingers into the glass before bringing them up to your lips. Staring at him curiously, you open your mouth just enough for him to push them inside, bourbon trickling over your tongue.

The heat in your abdomen flares as you swipe your tongue along the digits, holding Levi’s gaze all the while. Saliva pools in your mouth, and you suck on his fingers with more fervor, your chest heaving with need as slick arousal begins to soak into your panties.

You’re not sure how much time has passed when Levi finally pulls his spit-soaked fingers out of your mouth, spreading them apart to show the messy strings of saliva stuck between them before placing them into his own mouth.

He takes the same hand and places it on your kneecap, his fingertips just barely touching your bare skin. And there’s a brief flicker of hesitancy in his eyes, an unspoken question in his expression.

Exhaling softly to release the pent up tension simmering inside of you, you offer him permission by way of the slow, deliberate spread of your thighs, your fingers toying with the hem of your skirt.

Levi leans in, nose brushing against yours as he carefully slides his hand up your skirt, and you fight to suppress the full-body shiver that nearly wracks through you in response. He kisses you again as he hooks a digit in your panties, tugging them aside to slide two fingers through your soaked folds.

You’re not sure if he means to groan as he feels how fucking wet you are, your panties now entirely soaked through with the sticky, gushing arousal that’s been steadily leaking out of your cunt. But you revel in the way the sound vibrates against your lips over the music, hips rocking into his touch as he kisses you harder and slips a finger into your needy hole.

“Levi,” you gasp into the kiss, bucking upward, your spine arching with pleasure as he drags the digit through the slick arousal coating your tight inner walls.

Between the dismal lighting in the back of the room and the way Levi’s body is mostly blocking you from view from anyone outside of the booth, not to mention the commotion of music on stage, it’s unlikely that anyone would be able to immediately clock the fact that you’re getting finger fucked by the lead guitarist of the previous band right here in your seat.

Your brother, Furlan, or Isabel could return at any goddamn moment.

But the risk has a fresh wave of arousal gushing from your cunt anyway, and you’re certain Levi feels how you clench down on the two digits now plunging in and out of you, because he chuckles in amusement as he rasps against your ear after you choke out an audible moan, “Are you trying to get caught?”

He doesn’t stop though, and your kisses turn into messy, labored pants as your orgasm grows nearer, the pleasure searing inside of you racing toward a white-hot edge. And then his thumb finds purchase on your throbbing, aching, clit, and your pussy spasms as you come hard on his fingers, your limbs trembling with the force of your climax.

Levi kisses you languidly through it, fingers massaging your soaked cunt until you’re gasping from the overstimulation. When he finally pulls away, he adjusts himself in his pants before downing the rest of the bourbon in one sip.

“You’re still a brat,” he mutters, leaning in to swipe at the corner of your mouth with his thumb before sliding out of the booth entirely, eyes fixed on the bar. When he turns back to look at you, there’s a challenge in his eyes as he asks, “How do you feel about rum?”

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hi!! I absolutely love your fanfics. I was wondering if you could do a Gideon (Gordon) x reader fic that’s kinda angsty to fluff? Maybe the reader and him were close, but he ended up leaving because of how successful G-Man studios was. Then, when Matthew humbled him, he realized that he never should have left?

Awh thank you! For this one, Reader is just replacing Julia more or less

..............

"Are you okay? That looked pretty rough.."

Blinking in surprise, Gordon gazed up at you for a brief moment, seeing the look of concern written all over your face. Yet he didn't have the courage to say anything, as he just sniffled and shook his head, trying to bite back tears.

He thought you were going to make fun of him..just like the rest of this stupid school did after he tried asking out one of the popular girls.

Finally, he had gotten such a burst of confidence, thinking his "fearless" nature was going to score him a date.

But that was all gone now.

He made a damn fool out of himself in front of everyone.

"I think this is yours, Gordon."

Looking back at you, he was shocked to see you kneeling down, the book dusted off and being handed over to him. He quickly snatched it back, cradling it to his chest. "Th-Thanks.." He mumbled. "I'm surprised you even know who I am in all honesty.."

"Well, we do share classes." You mentioned, smiling a little as you both stood up. "You know, they can laugh all they want. But I bet none of those jerks would have the balls to ask her out like you did. I'd say you're truly living up to the "fearless" title."

He was frozen in-place, unsure of what to say as you alluded to his shirt, which he bashfully covered with his oversized coat. When you footsteps walked past him, however, he spun around and saw you going to your locker.

He stumbled after you. "W-Wait!"

"Yeah?"

"You know my name, but I'm afraid yours has slipped by me. What was it again?"

"[Y/n]."

"[Y/n]...well..thank you for the kind words, [y/n]. I wish more people in this stupid school were like you." He tried mustering a smile, although at the moment he seemed self-conscious about his braces. "Would you...l-like to come by my place to study for that test we have tomorrow?"

"...damn it's tomorrow? I was working on a whole flash card set but I kinda fell behind and-"

"Oh I have my own set, too! Maybe we can exchange them and quiz each other!"

"Sounds good." You chuckled, entering your lock combination to grab your notebook. Once you shut the door, you glanced at him, smiling. "I'll catch you after school then, G-Man."

Gordon blinked, jaw-dropped in disbelief as you walked away from him. He just stood there, watching you vanish into the crowd of students on their way to their next class.

A few people whispered and giggled at the way he was staring at you, some even calling him a weirdo or creep.

But this time, he didn't pay them any mind.

You just gave him the coolest nickname ever.

G-Man..

.

.

.

.

"Wait, the G-Man Empire has fallen, you said?"

"Yeah! Don't you ever watch the news? Apparently Matthew Patel is the new CEO!"

"...hah, I figured karma was gonna catch up to that son of a bitch sooner or later."

"Woah, [y/n]..that's kinda harsh. Didn't you go out with that guy and start on it together? I thought you'd be pissed off about it."

"Why would I be pissed off? He pushed me aside when it got successful and claimed he didn't have "time" for a relationship anymore. And it made me think "well shit, maybe it was never a real one to begin with...maybe he saw us as business partners and nothing more"."

"...damn, I didn't know all of that. My bad."

"No, it's..." Pausing, you held the phone away from your ear for a moment, taking a deep breath before you could get too upset. "Look, I'm over it. I'm not glazing over everything I might've done wrong..it was all him. He turned into a rich douchebag."

"Right, and now he's a broke douchebag." Your friend laughed. "Anyways, if I see him on the streets..I'll deck him in the face for ya, alright?"

"Thanks. Maybe I'll do that, too, if I happen to see him.." You joked as well, already feeling a bit better after ending the conversation, hanging up the phone.

With a small sigh, you turned back to the TV and put on some anime episode, relaxing as you focused more on the show and less on the rainstorm outside...

And Gideon.

But unfortunately for you, a name like that was hard to forget.

Especially as you once knew him as that aloof yet sweet nerd who used to hang out with you after school and on the weekends. Most of your days were spent either studying or watching anime while he explained every bit of lore under the sun.

Sure, highschool had its cringy moments, but other times it was great.

Gid--Gordon made up the best parts of it.

He was the first person you ever saw the Sparks(tm) with.

You two were close, graduating and going into college together, and ultimately helping him form the G-Man business from the ground up. He was inspired by that cool nickname you've given him in highschool, assuring you that you deserved all the credit.

At some point, however, he suddenly changed his name..apparently because he felt like "Gordon Goose" was dead to him.

You agreed that being addressed as "Mr. Goose" was one way to ensure he's never taken seriously, so you accepted his name-change to Gideon.

Then...even more about him began to change.

And soon you barely recognized the man you fell in love with.

As soon as he discovered something called "The Glow", his wealth skyrocketed, but he refused to let you in on what this little secret of his was. And he barely gave you his fair share of the earnings anymore.

It wasn't long before you got shoved aside, and he stayed up on his high horse alongside all the other millionaires and billionaires while you worked at your drastically lower-leveled job that was connected to his business empire.

Yep. His empire.

Not yours and his.

He didn't speak to you again unless it was through some random agent.

You were livid for the way he just left you in the dust, and right as you thought you couldn't hate him even more...

He went out with Ramona Flowers, got broken up with, and formed some bizarre group that apparently included her six other "evil" exes.

Oh, how furious you were.

Not at her, though. You felt terrible after she told you about how controlling he was, but it made you wish that you had a time machine so you could go back and warn her NOT to date that prick.

Or better yet..go back and stop him from turning into a prick.

Now according to your friend, Matthew Patel--Ramona's first ex--won the rights to all of Gideon's properties after a tough fight. But oddly enough nobody knew of his current whereabouts.

They emphasized the point that he was kicked out and not killed..

That made you wonder where he is and if he's-

'Wait..why do I suddenly feel sorry for him?' You blinked, before shaking your head and deciding to pause the episode, realizing you weren't even focusing on the story anymore.

Only that jerk.

Okay, so maybe a small part of you did miss him..and hoped that Gordon would come back. But you had a feeling things won't ever change nor return to what they used to be..

Deciding to clear your thoughts, you threw on your coat and opened the front door, stepping out onto your porch. You didn't go any further, as you simply wanted to take in the sights, sounds, and smells of the rain.

Of course it was windy, too, making the air feel chillier than it actually was.

Through the downpour, however, you could make out a figure that was seemingly limping down the sidewalk.

They were barely lit by the streetlamps, but your heart sunk into your stomach the moment you realized who that was exactly..

"G....Gideon..?"

Sure enough, it was him.

Gideon Graves. The rich asshole who now looked as though he was dragged through the mud several times in a row..completely disheveled with bruises on his face and tears in his usually pristine clothes.

Not to mention he seemed utterly defeated.

Upon hearing his name, he stopped and looked over, stunned to see that you were still living on this same street. "[Y/n].."

You scowled, the words you've exchanged with your friend from earlier coming back into your mind. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

"Please..don't remind me.." He rasped, his voice sounding so broken and tired.

"I think I will, actually. Now you know how I felt when you kicked me to the curb."

"...I'll admit it..that was a stupid thing for me to do. And I'm sorry.."

Blinking, you were surprised by his sudden apology. But your guard remained up, as you just huffed. "What? Just because you lost your big empire..you finally decide to grovel at my doorstep in the cold rain and apologize? Where was this last year? Two years ago?"

"........"

You sighed. As much as you despised seeing how sad and pathetic he was acting...it did tug on your heartstrings a little bit. You were starting to catch glimpses of that sweet kid you once knew..

"Gordon?"

He perked up. "Yes?"

"...I see. You haven't entirely killed your old self, then.." You quietly mused.

"You were right, [y/n]. I..I-I never should have left you." He took off his glasses as he sniffled and put them in his pocket, shivering. "I don't have any right coming here, but..I used the last of my money to catch a bus. Just to see the one person I still care about...and...hopefully cares for me, too.."

You blinked. "You...still care about me?"

"I know it didn't seem like it, but...I never stopped.." He mumbled. "I got greedy, ambitious...and lost sight of who really loved me. Now I'm back to where I was before.."

"And that is...?"

"..being a loser.." He was even quieter this time around. So much so, you barely heard him at all...although you knew what he said exactly.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I said...I'm back to being a loser."

You smirked. "One more time?"

"I said I'm a LOSER!!" Gordon snapped, tears finally streaking down his sunken cheeks as he scowled at you. His shout was hoarse, yet pained at the same time. "I-I'm a loser, okay?! A loser who doesn't deserve to grovel at your doorstep like this. A loser who should just lay down and die-''

Then he heard your small laughter and stopped his pity party, sniffling as he stared at you. "Wh-What's so funny?"

"You are a real loser for leaving me...but I'm just as much of a loser for wanting to let you back into my life.." Sighing, you shook your head before you grabbed the umbrella beside your door, opening it and heading down the steps.

He stared at you, now seeing that you two were standing under the umbrella together, totally sheltered from the rain.

Why were you doing this?

You looked at him. "You know, I thought about decking you in the face earlier..but I'll take you admitting you're in the wrong any day. Now let's get out of this rain."

A small whimper left his lips as he shuddered, practically clinging to you while you wrapped an arm around him, leading him back into your house.

In that moment, sparks flew, and Gordon realized he was finally seeing them at their strongest.

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook stumbles with his new pair of eyes.

> fluff (they’re just so cute okay) / wc: 2.8k

> warnings: jk mentions something about getting slapped in a sexy way he’s a menace that’s all

note: let me just get all my thoughts about jungkook in glasses out from my system please bear with me thank you T__T funny enough my eyes were hurting and watering like crazy while proofreading this srry

—

“wow! this is what i’ve been missing out on?” jungkook muses in wonder as he comes face-to-face with one of your books he snatched from the center table.

he widens his eyes when he lowers down his glasses, and then blinks excessively when he puts it back on.

“my feet hurt like hell.” you complain as you plop down next to him on the couch, all cozy in your pajamas.

you spent half the day killing time by exploring every inch of the mall because you had to wait for both of your glasses to be done. you had one of your glasses’ lens changed because the scratches have been too bothering you too much, while jungkook finally got his first prescription glasses.

he has been complaining about his blurry vision for quite a while now, and he agreed that he should get it checked when you told him that it might get worse if he doesn’t as soon as possible. however, despite reminding him many times, the plan kept getting put off and pushed to the back of his mind.

when you informed him about your plans of going to the store to get your glasses fixed, at last, the inescapable opportunity for him to tag along has come.

“how is it? you don’t feel dizzy or anything?”

you watch him flip through the book sitting over his crossed legs, observing that he can read the small characters from a considerable distance without squinting unlike before. he has tried on your glasses a few times in the past, but generally, you don’t let him wear it because it might not be suitable for his eyes.

“no, not anymore atleast.”

he grimaces as he recounts himself almost tripping on his own feet when he was asked to walk around wearing the fourth lens the doctor made him try on. it made everything look five times nearer, and a heavy headache weighed on him in a snap. if he wore those for a minute longer, he would’ve thrown up.

why you refuse to let him wear your glasses for longer than a minute— that’s when it fully dawned on him.

“baby, thank you for always protecting me.” he engulfed you in a tight hug as soon as he exited the small room.

“from what?” you squeaked in confusion, unsure hands rubbing his back. “do i need to fight someone for you?”

you chuckle at his displeased expression. “that’s good. you should always wear it so you get used to it, okay?”

“so i won’t be able to live without it like you?”

he smiles with his nose scrunched, turning his head to look at you. he gasps dramatically, and you tilt your head in question.

“i thought it was impossible for you to get even prettier in my eyes. but look at you!” he gently pinches your cheeks, and it takes everything in you to hold back a love drunk smile.

“i’m pretty?”

he leans in for a kiss, “divine. it’s like getting so near a painting you can see the brush strokes.” but then halts a few inches away from your lips. “guess we can’t do this when we’re both wearing glasses.”

it’s almost embarrassing; how you’ve shared about a million kisses with jungkook, and yet, you’re still holding your breath like this is about to be the first time you feel a man’s lips on yours.

“i’m not wearing mine, though?”

the thud of your book colliding with the table before it fell on carpeted floor would make you angry, but jungkook rudely interrupts before your train of thought could glide along the tracks, kissing off the anger from your mouth before you can nag at him.

frisky boy, trying to leave permanent marks on his glasses on the first day.

he pulls away with a pondering look, chewing on his bottom lip. “this is too big. i should get the same frame as yours. i’m already used to kissing with that between us.”

you sigh deeply, tucking his hair behind ears to get a good look at your boyfriend’s face. is jungkook wearing prescribed glasses one of your untold fantasies? maybe. not that you’re rejoicing that he fucked up his vision but . . . maybe.

in conclusion: men have their girlfriends walking fashion shows when shopping, and you have jungkook trying on thirty different pairs of glasses.

“hmm, not a bad idea. you do look good in those, too.”

he picks up his phone to check himself out through the front camera, messing around with his hair as an unshakable habit. “do you really like this one too?”

“i thought it was impossible for you to get even sexier in my eyes.”

“that much?” he unabashedly gives you a playful smirk, the familiar twinkle of his eyes lighting up the dim living room. he inches closer to wrap his arms around your waist, but his posture sags at your next words.

“nuh-uh.” you tut as your strict hands detain his forearms.

jungkook’s heart thunders upon seeing the expression you’re wearing, the kind that usually signals he’s about to hear excessive whining (said lovingly) and / or aggressive stomping against the floor (again, said lovingly). “before that, go pick up my book and pray to god that it didn’t get damaged.”

his head nervously cranes down to search for the book he thoughtlessly dropped earlier. he looks back at you with a guilty smile bordering on a wince, and everything that happens after that is a blur.

“please tell me there’s none-”

“a page got ripped! i’m sorry!”

he sprints towards your shared bedroom in a flash, and your hand that fails to pull him back drops to your side in exasperation when you hear the door slam shut. a click follows after several beats. flabbergasted, your jaw drops.

this man did not just . . .

“jungkook, you menace! you’re making me sleep on the couch?!”

“i love you! come to bed only if you want to slap me in a sexy way!”

you gasp, throwing a pillow at the door. you miss. miserably.

“are you into that now?!”

—

“how is yours not fogging up?” jungkook frowns at you from across the table, doe eyes hidden behind his fogged up glasses.

“your mask doesn’t fit perfectly. pinch the wire tighter around your nose bridge.” you chuckle, reaching over to help him out with his predicament. “like this much. that’s how you know you’re properly wearing it. if your glasses don’t fog up.”

the two of you watch as the fog gradually disappears from his lens.

“ohhhh. that was fun.” he takes the glasses off along with his face mask, satisfied that his problem was solved. “what if i’m wearing one that doesn’t have a nose wire, though?”

“you can still try pinching it around your nose, but usually it doesn’t work out well so you need to figure out wearing it in a certain angle.”

“should i just get contacts instead?” he looks at you with a hopeful smile, playfully teasing you with the idea you’ve disagreed with many times.

you raised the concern with jungkook constantly falling asleep wherever in the world he might be. yes, you love it when he falls asleep five minutes into cuddling you, be it you’re sitting or lying down. yes, he is an adorable sleeper. yes, you want him to get all the rest that he can. however, that becomes a problem if he starts using contact lens 24/7. especially if they’re clear or the same color as his eyes, you’re sure he’s bound to forget that he’s wearing them at some point.

“should we just get you new eyes instead?”

“come on now. that’d be too much money. you know how hard life is nowadays? the economy is going downhill!” he speaks with thick busan satoori, brazenly eyeing you up and down as if you just said the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

you pick up his glasses from the table to put it on him again. “that’s exactly why you should settle with what you have, mister.”

he laughs, and it’s the first time you see his bunny smile today. “alright, you got me.”

you thank the server after your food have been served on the table. these days, you and jungkook enjoy going out to eat instead of ordering in. it has been a mission to improve your food palate by exploring different dishes and cuisines. more than that, it seems that this is also a learning experience for your boyfriend. when he finds a new dish that he likes, he tries to make it in the kitchen himself when he finds the time. and well, you get to entertain yourself by poking around and acting like an assistant.

“baby, mine too. please.”

you shut off your eyewear case before reverting your attention to jungkook. alas, his glasses has fogged up again because of the spicy beef soup, which is still obviously piping hot. he is stuck in position, hand holding a spoon suspended in the air.

you never would’ve thought watching someone learn how to live with prescription glasses would be this engrossing. or maybe because it’s jungkook, and everything he does is endearing in your eyes.

you giggle at his cuteness, cautiously taking glasses off his face so he won’t spill the soup sitting on the curve of his spoon. you place it inside his case and keep it back inside your bag along with your own.

—

“baby! i feel blind! have you seen my glasses?” jungkook cries out as he enter the living room. “i even checked the car but it’s not there.”

you watch him walk nearer and nearer towards you, slowly chewing on the first bite off your hotteok. you’re sitting on the floor, and the task waiting to be accomplished on your laptop is left abandoned as you get distracted by a variety show on the television.

“which one?”

“our matching couple one.” he kneels beside you, a pout adorning his handsome face. “oh my god. maybe that’s mine you’re wearing?”

his gaze falls down on the pancake held by your hands, and it flickers back to your ingenuous eyes. this is an unspoken understanding between the two of you. and so, you take two bites in a row, twice as big as you normally would, mouth full and cheeks round. that’s when you offer the dessert to your boyfriend, nearly half eaten to expose the center, where most of the fillings would be.

he enthusiastically takes a bite from one side, moaning in satisfaction. “hmm, you can never go wrong with hotteok.”

you start pointing at the bedroom as you work your damn hardest to swallow the food.

“it’s at the-” you pause to take a sip from your glass of cold, turned room temperature, water. “the vanity drawer. i saw you put it there this morning while you were rushing.”

he scratches his head, fascinated with his own lack of thought. “should’ve asked you first before searching the entire building.”

“dummy-” you manage to utter before he’s guiding the hotteok back to your mouth. the sweetness of the brown sugar spreads in your mouth, balanced by the nuts and seeds.

“don’t say bad words, baby.”

you glare at him. “dummy.”

and he glares back. “brat.”

—

your attention returns to the television when jungkook leaves to pick up his glasses from the bedroom. the brightness of your laptop screen dims, signalling that the battery is dying soon. you click your tongue in annoyance. you reckon it’s understandable that it has been acting up since the device is already years old, but it annoys you nonetheless.

your boyfriend catches you in one of your not-so-finest moments. he looks straight at his front camera with a full grin while you furiously click ctrl and s on the keyboard over and over again, your glasses the original copy of his, sliding off your nose bridge. he has deemed it obligatory to take a selca every time you’re wearing the matching glasses together, and he still seems very much consistent with it two months later, so you just allow him to do it whether you’re aware or not. god knows how you’ve run out of poses.

a hotteok hanging from your lips? body language saying you’re about to throw away your laptop from the balcony? that’s new. that’s variety. that’s what makes jungkook unconsciously keep the smile on his face as he adds the photos to its designated folder, titled with the emoji wearing glasses and bunny teeth.

“is it just me or has that been for your lockscreen for more than a year now?”

he turns on his phone to take another look at his lockscreen, and he shrugs sheepishly. it’s a picture of the three of you on the couch: you, jungkook, and bam. it was a sunday afternoon. you fell asleep on your side, cuddling your boyfriend. baby bam, on the other hand, was cuddling your head. his paw resting on your cheek, head leaning on your ear. the only part of jungkook visible in the photo is his naked collarbones down to his tattoo sleeve, the rest of his torso being covered by a blanket.

“i know. i always end up coming back to it.”

this is one of your differences with him. you have a new lockscreen almost every week, immediately setting up whatever new photo you take of or with him.

jungkook, knowing this, asks: “what’s yours now?”

you pout your lips to point at the table. with your permission, he turns on your phone to see himself from yesterday— reversing the car with one hand on the wheel while looking over his shoulder.

he chuckles in amusement, raising his eyebrows. “this is the exact same picture as the last one you had.”

you stick out your tongue cheekily. “you’re wearing your glasses this time.”

—

magical pearls that grant wishes. you wished for an inflatable pool. the orange haired guy from slam dunk chasing you. running through the forest. scratches on your knee. a koala hanging on your arm. jungkook carrying you on his back to make a run for the bookstore. the signed book you wanted getting sold out twenty three seconds before you arrived. a tragedy.

you wake up with flashes of these broken up dreams lingering in your mind, lazily rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. you find that the clock says 4:17am. you climb off the bed, slipping onto your fuzzy slippers.

however, you pause on your journey to the bathroom when you notice an object shine from your peripheral vision. you sigh, and a yawn follows.

“this is what i was talking about.” you mutter softly, more to yourself, more to the airconditioner that sleeps during the day to keep you comfortable throughout the night.

you carefully remove the glasses off his face. before putting it away in the case, you inspect the temples to see if they became bent and uneven due to him lying on his side. thankfully, they survived just fine. you’re not quite sure if the back of his left ear did, though.

you step out of the bathroom, and it doesn’t come off as a surprise when you make eye contact with a half-asleep jungkook reaching out for you.

“come back.” he whines, voice small and scratched from sleep you almost don’t catch his words.

“on my way,” you respond in a sing-song voice. you slip back under the covers, caressing jungkook’s hair and tangling your limbs with his. you were apart for three minutes at most, but you almost moan in relief when his warmth envelopes you in once again.

you gotta do something about the bathroom being too cold. even sitting on the toilet is painful.

your heart flutters when he decompresses in your hold, making himself smaller to bury his face on your chest.

poor thing, you think to yourself when you brush his hair and notice that the back of his ear has turned red. you’ve definitely experienced this pain many times in the past. still does sometimes. and it stings. you tenderly trace the area with your fingertip, pressing a kiss on the top of his head because it’s the only place your lips can reach.

aside from his glasses, he also left the night lamp turned on, so you quickly take care of that as well before closing your eyes.

“sleep more, my love. it’s still early.”

jungkook’s mind malfunctions and mistranslates your words. he forces himself to reply before succumbing to yesterday’s persistent weariness.

“i love you, too.”

—

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[mydeerfellow]

The Rubber Ball Of Uncontrollable Honesty

“I honestly wouldn’t fuck anyone in the room besides you! And maybe him!” Angel pointed at Husk, then Alastor.

“Really?” Both of them said at the same time, looking speculative and mortified in turn.

“And Vaggie but only if she had a strap—”

---

“Fuck you especially.”

The room was overwhelmingly, awkwardly silent as everyone collectively looked up from the bags of Lucifer’s old shit they’d come across in one of the storage rooms in the basement. Alastor was the last to look up, and seemed shocked that he had even said anything.

“Uh… thanks?” Angel blinked, taken aback by the sudden hostility.

Alastor laughed nervously. “What? No! No, I just think you’re very strange and you make me incredibly uncomfortable! AHA! What the fuck?” He flailed and dropped the small rubber ball he had been messing with.

“Wow, that was… really, really honest, Alastor!” Charlie applauded awkwardly. “Um… I mean, maybe a little… abrupt…” She looked at Angel, who seemed torn between amusement and genuine surprise. “But! But, at least you were open, and… and you—”

“An’ he didn’t mean to say any of that shit. What the hell’s this thing, anyway?” Husk cut her off and stalked forward, eyeing the rubber ball on the floor. “You still feelin’ honest there, boss?” He looked at Alastor, who immediately pivoted to look away, but not before speaking: “Yooouuu— have enormous eyebrows!”

“You wanna fork it over now, or are we gonna wait for you to drop a bombshell?” Husk held out a hand, one brow raised, and for a moment it looked like Alastor might haul back and punch him. Then, he picked up the ball and put it squarely into Husk’s palm. “Ha ha! Now the curse is passed to you!”

“What kinda bullshit Curse Of The Mummy bullshit are you on right now? You can’t just pass it along to the next poor schmuck who tries to help! You know what? Fuck you. Figure it out your own fucking— ah well, shit.” Husk threw the ball at Angel, who caught it with a bit of a fumble.

“I honestly wouldn’t fuck anyone in the room besides you! And maybe him!” Angel pointed at Husk, then Alastor.

“Really?” Both of them said at the same time, looking speculative and mortified in turn.

“And Vaggie but only if she had a strap—”

“Gimme that, you dick.” Vaggie used a broom handle to knock the ball out of Angel’s hands and it rolled over to Niffty’s feet, who immediately held it above her head with a screech.

“Yes, dear?” Alastor patted her head as she wheezed excitedly.

“I would marry a bug if I could, just so I could stab him to death in his sleep and steal his money!”

The silence was overwhelming, and even Alastor looked somewhat put off by her… honesty. “Okay. That’s very disturbing and I think you could use some professional help.” He said at last. “Oh dear, it’s still working.”

“I got committment issues, so I’m never gonna actually fuck you.” Husk let Angel know, who nodded sagely. “That guy really fucked up my whole everything, honestly.” He pointed at Alastor, who raised his hands innocently.

“That’s okay, sex is more of a job anyway, let’s be real.”

“I wish I could stab a bad boy right now.” Niffty yelled.

“You know what, Niff? We’re gonna just… put a pin in that, okay?” Charlie laughed nervously and snatched the ball before anyone else could accidentally pick it up. “Sooo, anyway… I thought my mom got rid of this a long time ago. See, I had this kinda little lying issue when I was really little, so Dad made this!” She held it up and squinted at it. “It just makes you kinda wanna tell the truth. Or it used to, anyway. I think the spell got a little wonky, ‘cause I never… did what you guys are doing.” She looked over at Alastor and Husk, who were giving detailed descriptions of everything they didn’t like about each other while Angel offered background commentary on their personality flaws.

“If I had my time back I’d have drowned you in a washing machine when I had the chance!” Alastor said sweetly. “In fact, the only reason I don’t do that is because the dear, sweet child who runs this hotel would almost certainly be upset if I redecorated her foyer with—”

“That’s a fucking riot comin’ from a man who bends over backwards every time his floozy fuckin’ friend barks up your tree wantin’ a favor for dick-all!”

“At least I have a friend~”

“I got plenty of those, pal!”

Alastor pursed his lips, giving Angel a window of opportunity to jump in. “Aw, come on, maybe now’s not the time, huh? What’s the fun of a bitch fight when everybody’s gotta be stone-cold honest?” He held up his hands and smiled nervously, sidling between Alastor and Husk. “Nobody’s gonna come out on top, amirite? Come on, Charlie.” He waved at her behind his back and she jumped in valiantly.

“I think… we’re all probably going to say things we don’t really mean.”

“It’s a truth… ball… thing! Ain’t the point to be honest?” Husk spat, even as he backed off.

Charlie himmed and hawwed for a second. “Not really. Honesty’s kind of… hard. I don’t think it’s wrong to have a little bit of a… a… Vaggie, help. What am I saying?”

“Honesty’s got a lot of shades of gray. This shit just tries to make it black and white. I’m glad your Mom tossed it in here.” Vaggie covered Charlie’s hands, and the ball, with her own. “I think it’s probably better to just destroy it for good, though. Don’t you?”

The full body relaxation that Vaggie caused in Charlie was probably something that could be marketed and sold for a small fortune, just based on the broad smile on her face. Between their hands, the ball crumbled into dust.

“Well, I, for one, would fuck you any day of the week, and twice on Sunday!” Alastor exclaimed loudly, gesturing at Angel with both hands, who looked like he was seeing the sunrise for the first time. “Oh good, it worked!” He added after a pause, laughing uproariously at his own joke as he walked up the stairs. “I’ve got to go wash my brain with bleach, thank you all for this horrible experience!”

“What about once on Sunday?!” Angel yelled up after him, cackling when he was flipped off with both hands as the door slammed shut. “Ah, I’m wearing ‘em down. Just you wait.”

Husk shuddered and mock-gagged. “Maybe you should just stay down here an’ think about why you’re the way you are.” He patted Angel on the shoulder as he brushed past, following Alastor upstairs. “Niffty, don’t lick the dirt. You don’t know where’s it’s been.” He added, as Niffty was currently attempting to suction the truth ball dust off the unfinished floor.

“Cool, that’s my cue to skedaddle. C’mon, basket case, let’s go wash yer tongue before it falls off.” Angel picked up Niffty by the back of the shirt and tossed her up the stairs and into Husk’s arms like a football. “You two comin’ or what? Lezbehonest, this ain’t the most romantic setting, but you do you, babes.”

“Did you just— we’re holding hands, Angel!”

“Hey, whatever tickles yer pickle.” He swung the door shut behind him, and turned off the light for good measure, plunging them into darkness while they both yelled after him and scrambled blindly for the stairs.

[sphireath-wisp]

#My Kind of Lover

Sypnosis: I have no idea what this is about, I'm just rambling (Inspired by "My kind of woman")

Warnings: Not proofread (again), might not be in character for Kaiser because I didn't read the manga,

Featuring: Itoshi Sae, Itoshi Rin, Micheal Kaiser x GN! reader

Itoshi Sae

If there was something else other than soccer that could ever reach his heart, it would be any sort of breathtaking scenery.

The smell of salt, the hues of the setting sun, and ocean waves overlapping. He would find himself staring at the sea for longer than he actually wanted to. The stretch of white a white sandy beach with the soft occasional cries of seagulls, washing down that lump in his throat with some excessively fruity drink his assistant left on the table, maybe he didn't mind forgetting soccer for just a small moment during these times.

If anything, these calm - supposedly serene moments made him feel at ease again.

But recently, Sae has found himself more captivated by you. It didn't matter what you were doing, he could and would stare at you for hours. Waking up next to you and seeing your face the first thing in the morning, makes him feel like the luckiest man in the world.

Oh, you don't like this? He'll remember that. You seem really fond of this flower? He'll buy extra to see that smile again.

If I'm being honest, you didn't really understand why he liked looking at you so much. At first, you would be worried if you had something on your face or if he was judging you - Sae doesn't have the nicest look in the world, okay?

Nevertheless, you got used to it, giggling when you could feel his eyes gazing at you. You would often stare back and see him blink, turning away immediately, insisting that he was not staring.

In public though, his... foul mouth would get the better of him if it wasn't you who caught him staring.

Itoshi Rin

"Stepping stones" was something Itoshi Rin would often call every match he went through, every rival, and every person that had some sort of irritating or impressive skill on the field. His teammates were the closest things he could call a friend, but if he considered them a friend was an entirely separate matter.

Of course, there would always be an exception - you. Though, you weren't really safe from his sharp tongue despite how much he softened up when it came to you.

You would once in a while get called "idiot" by Rin when you happened to hurt yourself accidentally or when you tried to do something stupid. Rin didn't really mean anything bad despite the insulting name-calling and you could tell.

It was his own personal way of telling you he was worried or concerned about you, his weird and confusing method of telling you he cared. Through the blunt and overly serious exterior he has, you melt all of that away and reached somewhere in his heart that made him crave you even more.

He hated being vulnerable around others, so you understood him down to the last detail. Sometimes, he's worried you took his words to heart, so he promises himself to melt in your arms once both of you are in private. You'll have his attention, just wait.

If he visibly notices you flinch or frown at his statement, guilt will eat him up from the inside. Despite not enjoying any display of affection, he'll quickly kiss you or holds your hand under the table in hopes of cheering you up.

Micheal Kaiser

This mischievous little shit is watching your response to everything as if it's an experiment. You were so... interesting - like a mix of chemicals that he was so curious to see the reaction of.

He was like an annoyingly enjoyable bee to be around, but you had grown to love his constant buzzing around you. He'll randomly spurt and ramble about how much he loved you just to see that blush adorning your cheeks.

Teasing was always a must to him when it came to you, that shit-eating grin on his face after he happened to snatch that last slice of pizza from you or win against you in a game made you fall deeper in love again.

Pranks? Games? Surprises? He was all in for it.

And wow - this guy loves to boast about you. It doesn't matter who it is, his teammates, his rivals, online, who cares? That mouth of his couldn't be glued shut because he just loved to go on and on about you.

I JUST KNOW this guy loves to show you off in public too. When the both of you first announced your relationship, you could predict from that notorious smile of his that he would do this right at the stadium, where his charisma shines the brightest.

You're like a trophy, his most precious one. The whole world would have their eyes on the both of you, basking you in their attention, but painfully aware that such a gem like you belong to him and only him.

[euphreana]

The Shape of Truth - Chapter 8: Puttin On The Blitz

Masterpost

-

Ambrosius and Nimona had almost two hours before their meeting with Meredith. In the rain. Nimona suggested they wait it out at the library. It was almost noon, and the study rooms would be filling up soon - they couldn’t risk not having one available. Ambrosius could think of a million things he’d rather do than wait at a library, but Nimona had a point. The library it was.

The cloak Ambrosius had brought was meant for style, not for keeping dry. He looked like a soaked rat by the time he pushed through the library’s massive front doors. As a fluffy dog, Nimona hadn’t fared any better. At least she could trot over to the women’s bathroom and shapeshift the water off.

“You going to dry yourself off, boss?” she asked, returning to the foyer in teen form.

Ambrosius looked down at his soggy attire.

“I don’t think I have that option.”

“Uh, hand dryers?” She pointed a finger towards the mens bathroom. “I’ll go reserve a study room.”

The hand dryers did precious little for Ambrosius’s clothes. He’d just have to deal with everything sticking to him for a while. At least his copy of the invoice and the packet of ash in his pocket hadn’t fallen apart.

Ambrosius sighed as he regarded himself in the mirror. Most of the styling product had been washed out of his hair, leaving it flat and limp. He combed it back with his fingers. Then he glanced at the hand dryer next to him. What if…

~ ~ ~

Nimona tried hard not to laugh when he got to the study room.

“So fluffy!”

“I know.” Ambrosius muttered and tried to brush his hair back more with his hand. It had probably looked better wet. “I got tea.” he said, holding out one of the two paper cups in the cardboard tray he was carrying. “You liked the stuff this morning, right? Earl Grey with milk and sugar.”

Nimona accepted the cup and took a long slurp.

“Yeah. Good stuff.”

Ambrosius smiled faintly. Ballister would have been happy someone else liked his favorite drink.

Ambrosius sat down at the study room table and pulled his phone out. Nimona snatched it away.

“Not today!” she exclaimed, pushing a holographic computer screen in front of him. “We’re not gonna wait around like cadets on exam day - we’re gonna get you cultured!” She clicked play on the video she’d pulled up.

“What—”

“SHH. This is a good one.”

The ‘culture’ Nimona wanted Ambrosius to experience was one of those subversive movies that The Institute had banned from wide release. Ambrosius got even more tense the moment he realized it. He would have told Nimona to turn it off... but once he noticed no one could see them through the patterned glass wall, his curiosity got the better of him and he let it play.

He could see why the movie had been forbidden at The Institute - the story was about a man who’d been falsely imprisoned, and it painted the knights guarding the prison as cruel and the prison itself as squalid. Ambrosius tried to point out the unrealism, only to get a ‘how would you know’ and ‘sh, this is a good part’ from Nimona.

It… was a good movie though. The music was ominous, the camera work was smart, and Ambrosius was surprised to see the actor had actually shaved his head and starved himself to fit the story. And the tension - you could cut it with a knife! Ambrosius watched as the prisoner began to set his escape plan into motion, and…

Loud, jarring music beat through the room’s speakers as waves of bright color splashed across the screen. Ambrosius jumped, startled. Nimona glared at the screen.

“Grrr… I HATE mid-movie ads!”

Ambrosius blinked. This felt familiar…

“Luscious locks! For the luscious you!” Golden hair filled the screen, then zoomed out to reveal the Ambrosius of several years prior holding a shampoo bottle.

“NO NO NO! SKIP! SKIP IT!”

“I can’t! It’s an unskippable ad!”

Ambrosius groaned as he watched himself proclaim the merits of whatever shampoo company had paid him that time. His hair had been longer then - long enough to pull back into a bun and stay within academy regulations.

“Aww, you looked good with long hair!” Nimona said, “Why’d you ever cut it?”

“Ugh. The Institute wanted a more ‘disciplined’ look for my graduation year.”

“You call that disciplined?”

“Hey I’m lucky they let me keep this!”

Nimona snorted.

“Well now that you’ve graduated, you gonna do something else with it?”

“I don’t know. Depends on what The Institute wants.”

Nimona crossed her arms.

“Well if you could have your hair any way you wanted, what would you pick?”

Ambrosius had to think for a moment.

“I don’t know… I did like it long.”

“Still blond?”

Ambrosius laughed.

“It’s been so long, I don’t think I can picture myself with dark hair.”

“Yeah? How about this then?”

In a flurry of pink sparkles, Nimona transformed into… him. Ambrosius blinked. It was like looking into a mirror. There he was; his mother’s eyes, his father’s build, and dark, silky hair pulled back into a ponytail.

Nimona cocked an eyebrow.

“So? How do you look?”

Ambrosius stared.

“… Real.”

It was at that moment the study room door opened and Meredith Blitzmeyer arrived. She stopped when she saw two Ambrosiuses. Nimona gave a grin and shifted back to her teen form. Meredith opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. Then she held her hands up.

“I saw nothing.”

Nimona paused the movie screen and pushed it away as Meredith set her laptop on the table. The laptop screen flickered on.

“You have my storage key, right?” Meredith asked cautiously.

Ambrosius reached into his pocket and set the key on the table in front of him.

“The emails first.”

“Right. Emails…” It only took a moment for her to pull up the subject of their meeting. “The first email came several weeks ago - a special order for a power source that could fit into a narrow space and release all of its energy at once. A controlled explosive for deep mining, it’d said.”

Ambrosius’s eyes skimmed over the email. It was from a ‘Fodere’ of ‘Mansley Mining’ - a self-described startup company.

Meredith continued, “I’ve engineered mining equipment before, so I didn’t think it unusual. They paid my asking price too, no negotiating. It all seemed legitimate.” She clicked to the next email, showing the schematics of the blaster. “I completed a final version for approval. Then they sent the sword to the lab, saying to install the power source inside, for ‘ceremonial’ use in their new mine. I thought it was suspicious, and then one of my assistants recognized the sword.” She scrolled down further, showing the final emails. “I tried asking Fodere followup questions before I reported it to Security. I- I thought it would be helpful to the case. I didn’t think…” Meredith paused and rubbed a hand under her glasses.

Ambrosius scanned the exchange. This ‘Fodere’ hadn’t given any additional information, just requests to finish quickly, and that they couldn’t postpone opening the mine.

Nimona leaned over Ambrosius’s shoulder.

“Who uses ‘prithee’ in an email?” she asked, reading alongside. “That’s like, archaic.”

“High-upper-class people do.” Ambrosius mused, “I’ve even heard The Director say it a few times.” It wasn’t a word Ballister would have used. “Whoever wrote these emails doesn’t mingle with commoners.”

It made sense - the vocabulary, the money involved - the perpetrator had to be a noble. Not that it narrowed things down much, but it at least ruled out a terrorist uprising. There would be a possible motive for framing Ballister then too - not wanting a commoner among the pure-blood ranks.

“When was the lab fire again?”

“The day before the knighting.”

“So this ‘Fodere’ got impatient, since he needed the sword the next day.”

Meredith buried her face in her hands.

“I should have just done it. The queen died anyway. My assistants didn’t need to die too.”

There was an awkward silence. Ambrosius tried to move on.

“Why the fire though? He could have just stolen the sword and blaster and put them together himself.”

Meredith raised her head slightly.

“No he couldn’t have. The power source was delicate. The officials said the fire was caused by one of the prototypes spontaneously discharging and setting off the others, but I had too many safety features to keep that from happening inside the lab - someone had to have done it on purpose.” Meredith looked up at him. “He made my assistants install the power source, and then set off the prototype to burn them alive. I’m only here because I was sick that day.” 

There was a long silence. Meredith looked away.

“Can I have my storage key now?”

Ambrosius slid the key across the table.

“Forward me those emails.” he told Meredith, “And let me get a video of you saying what you just told me.”

Nimona leaned between them.

“Um, privacy much?”

“What?”

“Come on, are you trying to get her killed? The perp is a noble - that’s like, half of The Institute! How do you know whoever you show the video to isn’t in on the plot?”

“That’s exactly what the video is for - if something happens to her, it’ll be a backup.”

Meredith was looking uneasy.

“If something happens—”

Ambrosius held a hand up.

“It’ll be fine.”

“Come on man, this lady’s too valuable.” Nimona threw a friendly arm over Meredith’s shoulder. Meredith still looked uncomfortable.

Ambrosius crossed his arms.

“As a knight, it is my duty to defend against threats to The Kingdom at all costs. If there’s a traitor inside The Institute, they need to be found and dealt with. For the greater good.”

“That ‘protect the greater good at all costs’ mantra is exactly what got your buddy killed.”

Ambrosius’s jaw locked for a moment. Then he found his voice again.

“Well what else is there to do?!”

“We could post the evidence for all the Kingdom to see.”

“Posting it would cause unneeded public tension.”

“That’s a good thing though! Once the common people realize the ones at the top killed both their beloved queen and then one of their own for daring to rise above his station, they’ll demand justice!” Nimona jumped onto the table, “Then when the nobles claim special privilege and get pardoned, the people will revolt! Tables will turn! Buildings will burn! And we can throw off the shackles of the system and rise from the ashes in freedom!” she threw her hands out for dramatic effect.

Ambrosius looked at her blankly. He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Part of him wanted to report her for apostasy, and the other part was sure she was joking and he just wasn’t getting the joke.

Meredith closed her laptop quickly.

“I think I should go.”

“Wait—” Ambrosius tried to reach for the storage key, but once again Meredith was quicker than he was.

“I don’t want to be involved with revolutionaries,” she stated, “I just want to be left alone.”

“We aren’t planning a revolution! No one’s going to revolt over this! Nimona’s just…” Ambrosius shot Nimona a look, “… jumping to conclusions.”

Nimona put her hands on her hips.

“How is connecting the dots ‘jumping to conclusions’? This could be the spark that dismantles the establishment!”

“Not if we keep this quiet.”

“Keep this quiet? I thought you wanted everyone to know your buddy was innocent!”

“Not if the peace of The Kingdom is at stake!”

“You mean your cushy job?”

Ambrosius's eye twitched.

“I mean we can turn the guilty party in to the Justice Department, and they can do whatever they see fit.”

Nimona looked like she had a witty response to that, but she was cut off by the sound of the study room door closing. Meredith was gone.

Ambrosius and Nimona looked at each other, then sprinted through the door. It was lunch hour and the library was full. No sign of their only witness. Nimona gave a long groan.

“So much for that...”

Ambrosius scanned the crowd, determined to not lose his only lead in proving Ballister’s innocence.

“We can find her again. I- I can find out where she lives. Then-”

“If she’s smart, she won’t be at home by the time we get there.”

Ambrosius gritted his teeth.

“Then we’ll stalk her storage unit or something. We can’t just let her escape!”

“Then what?”

“Then we find out who did this! You want to know too, don’t you?!”

Several library patrons shot Ambrosius glares for raising his voice.

Nimona crossed her arms.

“I wanted to know back when I thought there were other heretics involved. But this is just turning into some high-class drama without results since you’re so concerned about your high and mighty job. I’m out.”

She began to storm away.

“Wait, Nimona—”

But it was too late - she too had disappeared, probably shape-shifted into some other person in the crowd. Ambrosius stood in the study room doorway in silence. He’d just lost everyone he could have considered a friend. Again.

Next chapter

[fandomymous-anonymous]

Cat and Mouse

AO3 link

!!!Safe Soft Vore!! Keep yourself safe if this is not for you!!!

Willing pred, unwilling prey, digestion mentions (does not happen)

Tim stares out of the window of Titans Tower at the bay, sighing. He knows he shouldn’t be alone, but he needs his space to think about what’s going on in Gotham lately. He taps his cheek, doing just that. He wonders about Red Hood and why he wants Tim so badly. He wonders about Bruce benching him. He thinks that surely California is far enough away from Gotham that Red Hood can’t get to him. Tim brushes his fingers through his hair. He just doesn’t get it. He hasn’t done anything to the crime lord. He’s done his best to uphold the title of Robin. Even as just plain Tim Drake he can’t imagine anything he did wrong.

The lights flicker and Tim looks up at them. That’s not good. He’s the only one here and there’s no reason for the lights to be flickering. The lights power off and Tim groans as he waits for the generator to turn on.

He waits for a few seconds.

Then a few seconds more.

After a minute, Tim turns away from the window and starts towards the stairs to see what the problem with the generator is.

The lights turn on.

Red Hood stands in the middle of the Ops room.

Tim startles, jolting back. He reaches for his bo staff, only to realize it's not at his side. He wasn't expecting anyone to be here, so why would he have it?

“Hello, little chick,” Red Hood says. “You're far from your nest.”

“H-how’d you get in here?” Tim says. “The Tower is closed to intruders.”

“I'm not an intruder if I'm in the system,” Red Hood says. He brings his hands up to his helmet and takes it off. Tim stares at the face of a boy -a man?- he thought was dead. Jason Todd smirks at him. “Surprise, little birdie. I know you weren't expecting me.”

“You're dead,” Tim says.

“Not anymore.”

“What do you want from me?” Tim asks, stepping back.

“I want to show Bruce the dangers of making Robins.”

“Then why not go after him?” Tim says, eyeing the doorway behind him.

“Because you need to learn about it as well, little chick.” In the blink of an eye, Jason's arm dashes out and he grabs Tim by the shoulder. “Come on, lil chick, let’s make this fun.”

“Fun!?” Tim screams. “You want to… Have…” Tim trails off as he realizes that Jason seems much taller than he was before.

Jason grins, his fangs a bright white. “Get running, sweetheart.”

Tim doesn’t want to know what will happen if he doesn’t. He runs off deeper into the tower. Everything gets bigger by the second. Tim skids to a stop next to a door, staring up, up, up at a doorknob several feet above him. He can’t go up the stairs. He’s trapped on this floor with Jason.

Hide, he needs to hide. Where can he hide? Under a couch? The fridge? If Tim can make it to the other room in time, he can wait out this… shrinking that Jason did to him. Tim dashes away towards the kitchen, squirming under the gap between the fridge and the floor. It's terrible, dust and sticky spots covering the ground. But at least he's safe.

Jason walks into the room, looking over the counters and under the cabinets. A predatory gleam shows in his eyes. “Come out, lil chick,” Jason croons. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Tim holds his breath, covering his mouth. Jason can't hear him over the fridge, can he?

The man takes a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. “I know you’re in here,” Jason says. “You can’t hide from me that easily.” Tim slides backwards, shivering. Jason walks out of the room. Tim looks up from under the fridge. He’s not there. A hand appears from the side of the fridge and snatches Tim up. Tim yelps. Jason shifts his grip so he’s holding Tim by his cape. He holds him up to his face, baring his fangs in a grin. Tim claws at his collar, gasping for breath. “I’ve caught you now, little bird.”

Tim bursts into tears. “Don't hurt me!” Tim cries. “I'll be good! I'll do anything!”

Jason snorts and grins sharply. “Anything?”

“Anything!” Tim yells, sobbing.

Jason raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Are you that desperate?”

Tim shudders at thes sound. “Yes.” His tears continue dripping, shaking his body violently. He can live in a cage until Jason lets him go.

Jason licks his lips. “I'm holding you to that.” Jason's stomach growls and the man smiles before opening his mouth.

Tim gasps, scrabbling at the man's fingers. “No!” Tim cries. “Don't eat me! I'll be good!” The drop into the awaiting maw is short. Tim tips forward as Jason lowers his head. Tim breathes heavily, his hands sinking into the plush texture of Jason's tongue. A sob wrenches out of his chest. Tim starts crying. “Please… You can have anything, I'll do anything, don't eat me…”

“You told me you'd do anything so I wouldn't hurt you,” Jason says around him. “I made my choice.”

“Please,” Tim sobs, shaking.

Jason chuckles. “You're cute, lil chick.” He rolls Tim around on his tongue, coating him in shimmering saliva. Tim wriggles the best he can, pushing at Jason's teeth. Jason lets out an amused huff. Then he tips his head back and swallows.

His throat is tight around Tim, pulling him down. Tim’s arms are pinned above him. There's no room for him to struggle. Tim lets out heaving sobs, beyond frightened.

After a few seconds, Tim is deposited in Jason's stomach, splashing to the bottom. Tim presses his hands against the walls, soaking wet.

Jason’s stomach glows a faint neon green. No, it’s not his stomach that’s glowing, it’s his saliva and the small pool of acid that Tim is sitting in. (If Tim was less panicked, he’d notice that he’s not being burnt by it, so it can’t be stomach acid.)

Jason lets out a small burp. “‘Cuse me.” There's a quiet tapping and Tim yelps as hands message him from the outside. “You hit the spot.” Tim struggles underneath them, gasping as the pressure increases. “Don't get any ideas,” Jason says. “You're mine.”

Tim kicks him once more, tears streaming down his face. He curls up, putting his head on his knees. This is it. This is the end of him. Jason hiccups, patting his stomach once more.

It's muggy and damp and far too warm, the feeling causing Tim to feel horrifically tired. If he falls asleep now, he might not ever wake up. But Tim doesn't want to know what being digested would feel like, so he closes his eyes and ignores the movements of Jason walking, the quiet ping of a Zeta Tube, the sound of a motorbike. The swaying rocks Tim to sleep.

------

Tim wakes up covered in slime.

Tim wakes up?

Tim groggily opens his eyes, looking around. He's still inside Jason's stomach, which looks different at this sideways angle. Slime, the texture unlike the saliva Tim was swallowed down with, coats the entirety of Jason’s stomach. And Tim as well. Tim shudders, wrapping his damp cape around himself. It’s awful. He wants to go home. He wants to live.

Jason’s stomach groans around him and Jason yawns. There’s pressure on Tim’s side as Jason rubs his stomach. Gravity shifts as he presumably sits up. “Are you awake?”

Tim stays silent, scared at the thought of dying.

“I’m asking as a courtesy,” Jason says. “I know you’re awake.”

Tim swallows. “Y-yeah?”

“He speaks! How did you sleep?”

Tim hesitates. It’s frightening in here, but he actually slept fine. “Uh. Okay.”

“Great,” Jason says. “Do you want out?”

“...What?”

“Are you ready for me to let you out?”

Tim presses his hands against the walls, shifting into a sitting position. “You’re going to let me out?” His voice is small.

“I promised I wouldn’t hurt you,” Jason says. His hand rubs against Tim’s side. “I don’t intend on you staying in there forever.”

Tim swallows, queasy. Tears prick at his eyes. “Y-yeah, I want to get out.”

Jason hums in acknowledgment. “Give me a minute.” Tim, the saliva, and the slime rock in Jason’s stomach as the man stands up. Tim would find the swaying back and forth motion relaxing if he wasn’t inside a stomach.

G-d he’s inside a stomach. He still can’t really believe it. A glowing stomach that didn’t even digest him, but a stomach, nonetheless. Tim takes a deep breath, trying to keep the panic at bay. He can hear Jason’s even breathing and his steady heartbeat. Jason’s stomach burbles around him.

Tim can hear Jason doing something, even if he can’t tell what. Then cold water enters through Jason’s throat, swallow after swallow. The water soaks Tim even further, causing him to shiver. “H-hey,” Tim protests weakly.

“I need the water, Cocoa Bean,” Jason says. Cocoa bean? “You’d get stuck. Are you ready?”

“Yes, please…” Tim shudders at the thought of staying in Jason’s stomach any longer.

The muscles around Tim compress, forcing him upwards. He gasps, the compression around him worse on the way back up. He’s deposited in Jason’s mouth, covered in slime and saliva. Jason opens his mouth, spitting Tim into his hands. “There we go. That wasn’t too bad, was it?” Jason smiles slightly.

“You ate me!” Tim yells, which is admittedly a bad thing to do to someone over ten times your size. “I… I thought I was going to die!”

“Ah, I told you I wouldn’t hurt you, though. That was on you.” Jason drops Tim in the sink and pulls the moveable faucet off its stand. Jason turns the water on, testing the heat with his fingers. “Hold still.” Jason sprays Tim with the faucet, washing off the slime and saliva. Tim flinches as the water hits him, slowly relaxing into the heat. “There you go, Cocoa Bean. Nice and clean for your return to Nightwing.” Jason rubs him dry with a dish towel then gently removes him from the sink. Tim shivers at the sudden loss in heat. He doesn’t struggle, afraid of falling if he does. Jason places him on the counter and rubs his hair with a finger.

Tim returns to his normal size at the same speed he shrank. Jason lifts him and tosses him over his shoulder. Tim yelps. With one hand, Jason puts his helmet on. “Let’s go, chick.” He swings his legs out the window and climbs out, shutting it with one hand. Jason jumps over the rooftops, Tim wriggling in his grasp. “Stop struggling, please. I don’t want you to go splat.” Tim does as he’s told.

Tim can see Dick standing on a rooftop just outside Crime Alley, the Nightwing suit a brutal contrast against the rising sun. Jason comes to a stop next to him. “Hello, Nightwing.” Jason shoves Tim into Dick’s hands. “Your birdy has been delivered. Pleasure doing business with you.” Jason turns and goes another way, likely to a different safehouse than the one the two just spent the night in.

Dick sets Tim down, busying himself with fretting. “Are you injured? Did he hurt you? What happened?”

Tim wonders if he should inform Dick that his younger brother is alive and can eat people. What he says instead is, “I’m fine, it was scary but I was safe.” Time to pack this all in a box and never think about it again.

Dick hugs Tim tightly. “I’m glad. I… I couldn’t lose another one.”

Ah. Tim probably made the right decision in not telling him then. Tim lets Dick pull him along, glancing back at Crime Alley. Jason is nowhere to be seen.

Tim lets Dick drag him back to the cave. He’s ready for a bath and some proper sleep. This was the most exhausting thing he’s ever experienced.

Eh, could’ve been worse. He could be dead.

Tim’s shower is short and sweet and he blacks out the minute his head touches his pillow. Home sweet home.

[after-witch]

And the Doctor Said [Yandere L Lawliet x Reader]

Title: And the Doctor Said [Yandere L Lawliet x Reader]

Synopsis: You’re sick.  You’re sick and he won’t admit it, and what, he just wants you to die here?

For Horrorfest request: L Lawliet + Hypochondria

Word count: 963

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, reader is a hypochondriac, emotional abuse

You stick the thermometer in your mouth for the third time that morning, and ignore the way that L’s frown deepens at the gesture. You don’t much care for what your captor thinks, anyway, and especially not about important matters like these.

“And why are you measuring your temperature again?” The words come out measured and calm, but you--having been around him for too long now--detect the edge of irritation in them.

“You know why,” you say, words half-garbled through the plastic on your tongue. “Stop pretending you don’t.”

He hums and watches and waits for the thermometer to beep. When it does--beep, beep, beep--you pull it out and grin at the reading, despite the thin thread of fear slowly unraveling inside your belly.

“Aha! I told you! See! See!” You thrust it towards his face, and he takes it, careful not to touch the part that’s slightly damp with your drool.

“37C,” he reads. “That’s not a fever. I don’t know why you sound so triumphant.”

“Because,” you retort, snatching the thermometer back from his grubby little hands. “It’s above the normal temperature, which you know is 36 to 36.8 exactly. And if it’s above the normal temperature, that explains everything else that’s going on with me.”

The note of triumph in y our voice is trimmed with anxiety. Because while being right when L is wrong is one of the few things left gloating for in your sad compact little life, if you’re right, it means… well.  Something far more serious than a simple cold.

L stares at you, blinking.

“Don’t tell me you’re still stuck on that. I already told you, your self-diagnosis was faulty and filled with errors. It wouldn’t hold up to a nervous first year medical student’s analysis.”

Your grip on the thermometer tightens, before you slam it down on the counter. You whirl, fuming, even though your stomach and your head hurt, and stomp into the living room to retrieve your laptop. The top opens fluidly--you don’t want to break it--and you bring up your latest search results.

“There,” you say, resolute, bitter, terrified but stubborn as hell. “See? All of my symptoms are there. The headache. The stomach ache. The dizziness. The insomnia. The fever--” You don’t even look behind you when you retort to the look he’s surely making--”It’s going to be a fever soon, it counts.” 

Your fingers tremble as you scroll down the page, noting how every symptom lines up with your current state. Yes, you do feel more anxious than usual. Yes, you do feel a sense of impending doom. Yes, you do feel like you can’t sleep. Yes, your appetite is affected… it’s all there, black and white, easy to see

Easy for you to see, while he ignores what’s right in front of him.

You hear L move, hear the creak of the stool in the kitchen, before you see him settle down next to on the sofa.

He calmly puts his fingers on the bottom of your laptop, and you let him, because if he would just read the symptoms then he would know that you’re right. And he would take you to a doctor, instead of forcing you to sip tea and take cold medicine every few hours.

“You do not have,” he starts, before turning the screen to face himself. His voice maintains its soft monotone expression as he continues. “One of the rarest blood disorders in the world that can cause cold-like symptoms which may be a sign of impending organ failure.” The only sign of his agitation is the sigh that he lets out as he closes the laptop, much to your annoyance.

“I’m taking away your laptop privileges,” he says. He sets the closed laptop next to him, where you can’t reach, unless you want to try to fight him for it. You don’t.

“You’re what?” Your fingers itch to reach for it, but then--might sudden movements trigger your condition? Was it like a blood clot, in that way? Maybe you had a blood clot, your leg was feeling strange lately, and surely you’d been sitting down too much in the last 24 hours. “You can’t do that.” Your voice is tinged with the helplessness you feel, raw, thready.

“Of course I can.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I should have done this sooner. It’s only contributing to your condition, really.”

You freeze.

“My condition? So you admit it?” Your heart thumps and there’s a jittery sort of triumph in your stomach, but it’s so overrun with worry that you barely feel it. Has he known this whole time? Was he planning on just letting you die? Maybe that was what he got off on, making you fret and worry, watching you get sick, half-ass nursing you while you slowly faded away.

He chews on his thumb while your brain chews on itself. “I suppose I’ve been in denial about it. But it’s clear that you are suffering.” He sighs again. “I’ll have Watari send over some modules on how best to treat it. But I think taking away your ability to research every disease known to mankind is a good starting point.”

He reaches out and, as if you’re some sort of timid cat, pats your shoulder reassuringly.

You don’t flinch, exactly, but it’s not often that he bothers touching you without asking first.

“I…” The words come out slowly. “I don’t understand. What can Watari do about my blood disorder?”

L quirks his head to the side. And then his eyes widen, when he realizes where it all went wrong.

“You don’t have a blood disorder. I told you that.” He smiles, just a little one, but it digs right into you like a sharp hook. “It’s called hypochondria. Would you like me to look up the symptoms?”

[iwritewhump]

"I need your help" + villain's base

day 10 of whumptember

1236 words

warnings: bruises

~

Hero swallows thickly and looks at the ground. His eyes lock on Superhero’s boots in front of him. He closes his eyes, pushes his pride down, and falls to his knees. 

Superhero lifts his foot off the ground and tilts Hero’s chin with the toe of his boot. 

Hero closes his eyes and takes a shuddering breath. Superhero releases him and he falls forward, nose hitting the floor. 

“Report?” Superhero barks. 

Hero pushes himself up and stays kneeling in front of him. “Vigilante escaped. I have my best PI’s watching for her, but as of now there’s no news.” 

Superhero nods once and waves his hand, “And?” 

“And?” 

“What are you doing? Other than waiting on your ass?” Superhero says, rolling his eyes. 

Hero stammers, “I was-I mean. I’ve been awake for two days. I was hoping-I really need some sle-” 

“I think training is a great idea!” Superhero cheers, rolling his sleeves up. 

Hero stands and follows Superhero to the backyard, his feet dragging behind him. Superhero gets out the sparring tools, the obstacle course, and the boxing gloves. Hero closes his eyes and takes a moment to mourn the nap he was hoping to squeeze in. 

“Come on!” Superhero says, tightening the strap on the boxing glove. 

~~~

Hero leans heavily against the wall with a heaving chest. The gloves fall to the ground and he shakes his head. “I’m done.” 

Superhero turns to him and shakes his head, “Excuse me?” 

“I’m beyond exhausted, I can’t see straight, and I’m pretty sure I’m hallucinating because you’ve never had those horns, have you?” 

Superhero clenches his jaw and shakes his head, “You can go. Leave and never come back. If you can’t train for thirty minutes before needing a break then you’re not made for this line of work.” 

And maybe it was the two days without sleep. Or it was Superhero’s tone. Or maybe Hero was just too fucking tired of nothing he does being enough, but he leaves. He doesn’t even pack a bag, he just…walks out the door and down the street. 

He sheds his phone in a trash can and snatches a jacket from the back of someone’s chair to keep the cool breeze away, and he’s gone. His muscles ache, every movement hurts and it takes everything in him to keep going. 

He walks, and walks, and walks until he sees a familiar building. How had he managed to make it here? 

Shrugging, Hero walks up to the door and slams the knocker down on the wood. 

Villain opens the door with a few bills in her hand. She looks Hero over and sighs. “You’re not pizza.” 

Hero shakes his head and blinks tiredly at her. He pushes off the entryway wall (when did he start leaning against it?) and inhales deeply. “Can I stay here? Just for the night?” 

Villain takes a minute to think before nodding, “Whatever, just be quiet, I have homework.”  

She steps aside so he can walk past her, as he does, he brushes against her and she inhales at just the right time to realize. “You stink.” 

“Superhero thinks that showering is a waste of time apparently.” Hero says, lifting his arm up and sniffing. He shrugs and falls onto the couch, eyes closing the instant his head hits the cushion. 

Villain watches him, trying to figure out if this was a trick or not. Hero starts snoring and rolls onto his side with his arm above his head. His shirt rides up and Villain looks away, but not before she sees bruises blooming across his torso. 

She picks up a blanket from the closet and lays it over him. 

Sighing softly, Villain pulls her phone out and dials a number, “Hey, I need your help.” She leans against the wall and looks out of the window next to the door. “I’ve got Hero here, I think he’s in some trouble.” 

“Of course he’s in trouble!” Vigilante shouts. There’s a few moments of silence where Villain wants to ask if she’ll come. “I’ll be over in a few. Have you eaten yet?” 

“I have pizza on the way.” 

Vigilante cheers, “Perfect, I’m starving.” 

The pizza arrives and Villain sets it on the table. Ignoring her growling stomach, she gets out two plates, two mugs, and starts a pot of coffee. 

Vigilante comes in through the back door and sits down before Villain even notices her. 

“Hey,” She says, opening the pizza box. “Ew, veggie?” 

Villain jumps and puts her hand over her heart, “Ew, free pizza?” 

Vigilante rolls her eyes and takes a bite. They look at each other and Vigilante grabs another piece from the box. “Aren’t you having any?” 

Villain sits down and takes a few pieces from the box. After polishing off the first slice, she leans against the back of her chair and sighs. “So, any ideas?” 

Nodding, Vigilante swallows and gestures to the coffee pot, almost full. Villain nods and she jumps to her feet to fill her mug. “So he’s here? Like…in your house?” 

Villain nods and points to the couch. Vigilante’s mouth falls open and she tiptoes over to the couch and looks over it. She hurries back to the table and sets her mug down. 

“Oh my god,” She says, whispering. “You have Hero, sleeping, in your house! What are you going to do?” 

“I have no idea! That’s why I called you.” She responds, also whispering. 

“So what happened?” Vigilante asks, leaning over the table. “Like…how’d he end up here?” 

Villain shrugs, “He just showed up. I don’t know where he was, but he’s kinda beat up.” 

Vigilante jumps up again and looks over the couch. She runs back to the table and slides into her seat, “I didn’t see anything-oh my god! You little perv!” 

Villain’s face goes red and she shakes her head, “I put the blanket on him after he fell asleep. Before I did…he kinda stretched and I saw his stomach.” 

“Oh my god!” Vigilante whisper-shrieks, “Does he have abs? It's hard to tell with him since he’s so scrawny. Does he?” 

Villain bats Vigilante’s arm, “I didn’t notice! But what I did see was a lot of bruises. And I…” 

“Yeah yeah, your little stray-loving heart went ba-dum ba-dum.” Vigilante says, putting her feet up in Villain’s lap. “Well you can’t keep this one, he’s a biter. Oh and let’s not forget he’s been trying to get me arrested for a month!” 

Villain sighs and nods. She looks at the back of the couch and frowns. “Come on, Vigilante. You remember how it was…with Superhero.” 

“Stop.” 

“All I’m saying is-” 

“I know what you’re saying. I’m asking you to stop.” Vigilante says, drawing her knees to her chest. 

Villain looks at the floor and sighs. She bites her cheek and leans her head back. The pair sit in their uneasy silence until Vigilante nods. 

“Ok.” she picks at the skin around her fingernails and frowns. “How can I help?” 

“Keep him at your place?” Villain asks. She gets ready to defend him, already taking a big breath to get ready for the word-spill, but she doesn’t have to. 

Vigilante nods, “Ok. When he wakes up, I’ll take him home.” She almost smiles, “But if he pees on my carpet he’s out on the streets!” 

From the couch, Hero smiles and rolls over onto his side so he can hear them better. 

~ part two?

[specialbluehens]

mother hen

based on this post i made about shane being an older sibling figure to the younger bachelors & bachelorettes. he's the disgruntled mom friend.

1. sam

Shane slumps into a chair and takes off that dreadful cap as he begins his legally designated 15 minute break at work. He knows if it weren't for the literal law that he wouldn't be given a break at all, especially with Morris stressing about customers that never show up. It's the same two or three people from town every day. Morris isn't going to get that through his thick skull, though. Shane sighs as rubs his eyes roughly with his palms, trying to fend off his exhaustion and mild hangover.

He's getting better. He hasn't cut himself off completely, but he's getting better. He can remember his nights now instead of select moments and then blurry images and distant noises. Shane sighs. He has a therapy appointment in a couple of days. He isn't enjoying therapy but it is starting to give him relief in a way he's never felt before. It's better. It's better, he reassures himself, despite the pressure in his chest yelling at him that he's a failure for not going cold turkey.

Shane slouches further down in the chair and tips his head so it rests on the back of the chair. These cushioned armchairs, as cheap and small and obnoxiously colored blue as they are, are the best things JojaMart has ever gotten. He shuts his eyes and listens to the sound of absolutely nothing in the break room. He's saved from the terrible repetitive pop music playlist on the floor. It's just him and the whirring of a nearby fan.

Until the door swings open and Sam comes barging in with a giddy smile and something in his hands. He's going to come over and try and show him isn't he?

"Shane!"

Shane groans and covers his face with his cap.

"C'mon! I gotta show you something!"

"No." Shane grumbles from under his cap. "Go away."

"Please?" Sam asks nicely, "I promise you will like it."

Shane grabs his cap and swings it down onto his lap. "What is it?"

Sam holds out a flier and beams. Shane sighs and snatches the paper and takes a look at it. It's an advertisement for a show in Zuzu City.

"Who's 'Goblin Destroyer?'" Shane asks.

"My band!" Sam says excitedly, hopping from foot to foot. "We got a gig! It's a small show but it's still in Zuzu City!"

Shane blinks and nods. "Alright, cool." He looks up at Sam, who's got the biggest hopeful puppy dog eyes he's ever seen. Sam is giving Jas a run for her money. "Uh… good job." He tries to say it and mean it. It's exactly what Sam is looking for, because Sam somehow grins even wider and giddily jumps up and down.

"You totally gotta come!"

Shane purses his lips together. Go to their concert? He can't remember the last time he'd been to a concert, especially given how tickets usually cost more money than he has. Except, Sam and his band can't be expensive. It's their first show and probably at a small concert venue or in a club in Zuzu City, which most of the time is free. He has no reason to not go other than he doesn't know if he wants (or can handle) being in a potential crowd.

But Sam is waiting patiently and quietly. This means a lot to him.

Shane sighs, "Yeah, I can go. I just need the date and time."

"Really?!" Sam nearly shouts. "And everything is on the flier, plus everybody from here who's coming will be on the bus together. Pam agreed to it," He explains.

"Ah," Shane says, reading the flier again and seeing yes, all of the information is there. "Erm, your mom going?"

"Her and Vince are going, yea," Sam sounds less excited but he's still happy. "I'm not sure Mom will like the music too much, she doesn't like it when we practice in the house, but I think my dad would like it."

"Mmm," Shane hums.

"My dad isn't going to be home until next year," Sam says, his demeanor shifting into what Shane can only describe as sullen. "It's been weird, getting ready for it even though it's a whole two seasons away."

Shane isn't sure what to say to that. He never had much of a family growing up, and what little he remembers of his father are more images than true moving memories. Flashes.

"He's been gone since Vince was a toddler," Sam says. "We had just moved to the valley when it happened." Shane knows all of this already, this isn't the first time Sam has told him about it. Sam tends to repeat it a lot.

"I mean, I'm an adult now, y'know?"

"You're an adult?" Shane teases dryly. He smirks as Sam leans over and gives him a light slap on the knee.

"I'm being serious, dude," Sam says, "I just… I'm doing great things and he's not even here. I've been told he didn't have a choice but then there's so many people whose dads are here and weren't shipped off to the war. Did he have no choice?"

"Sam there wasn't a draft, and there hopefully won't be one anytime soon. So no, your father wasn't forced," Shane states matter-of-factly. He didn't plan on continuing further, but Sam's look of defeat…

"But, by 'no choice', probably meant in looking for a job. People who aren't doing well sometimes feel like the military's all they can do and be guaranteed some benefits at the end of it. Why did y'all move to Pelican Town?" Shane asks.

"It was too expensive in Zuzu," Sam says.

"Do you know why I moved to Pelican Town? Why did I move in with my aunt?"

"Because it was too expensive in Zuzu City."

"Right, and that was just me and Jas," Shane says, "Two of us. Y'all are a family of four. I can't imagine how hard it was."

"... Yeah…" Sam murmurs.

"Look, your old man was doing what was best at the time. He's gonna be different when he comes back."

"Yeah, in his letter he said he was different. I found it in my mom's room."

"Don't go snooping in your mom's room," Shane scolds. He clears his throat to switch off the "talking to Jas aka a child" mindset. "All I'm saying is, maybe this," Shane passes back the flier. "This'll be something he can enjoy when he gets back."

"I hope so," Sam says. "I don't know what I'd do if he doesn't like it."

"He'll like it," Shane says, "And even if he doesn't, he'll still be proud. He's your dad. He'd be crazy if he wasn't proud of you."

"You think so? Sometimes I don't even know if my mom is proud of me."

"She's going to be proud of you when she sees you on that stage. I know I'd be."

"... You would?"

"Mhm."

Sam looks at the flier and his face scrunches, deep in thought. Shane checks the clock and sees he's a couple minutes past his break. He sighs and he stands up, stretching his arms up to try, popping his back. Before he can leave, Sam is wrapping his arms tightly around Shane and squeezing.

"Sam?!"

"Thank you," Sam breathes.

Shane awkwardly pats Sam's back. "Er… you're welcome?"

Sam lets go and hurries off out of the breakroom. He probably wasn't even supposed to be back here, let alone for an entire 15 minute break. Shane sighs as he drags his feet to the door.

"That was weird," He murmurs to himself. He ignores the lightness in his chest. It was weird.

As long as the kid's happy though, right?

Shane questions if it was worth it as Morris yells at him for being late coming back from his break. He sees Sam behind Morris, mopping as usual as if he hadn't gone to the breakroom and is the reason Shane is late. Shane sighs again.

He'll take the blame for it this time.

This time, he tells himself, despite it not being the first time.

It probably won't be the last.

[howlingday]

We Fight Together

Robyn: How is she taking it?

Fiona: We... We fixed up her wounds, but...

AAAAAAAAAAAAGH!

Joanna: Dammit! If she keeps smashing against the rocks, she'll reopen her wounds at a minimum, and at worst, she blows our cover and dies anyway from her wounds before we're found!

Qrow: Mm... Ruby...

..................................................................................

Ruby: (Smashing against a boulder) ARGH! DAMMIT! DAMMIT! I'M STILL TOO WEAK!

Qrow: Hey there, Squirt...

Ruby: (Stops) U... Uncle Qrow! You were there, weren't you?! You saw! You saw it! Everything's okay, isn't it?! It's all a dream! Please tell me it was all a dream!

Qrow: ...She's dead, Ruby. Yang's dead.

Ruby: No... No! YOU'RE LYING! YOU'RE-! (Chokeslammed into a wall) ACK!

Qrow: GET AHOLD OF YOURSELF!

Qrow: You just survived the world's deadliest war yet, and you barely survived by the skin of your goddamn teeth! You tried your best, but facing all those powerful enemies shook you to your core, right?!

Qrow: You're drowning in a sea of your own shame and guilt, but you need to stop your damn crying and quit thinking about what you lost! WHAT'S GONE IS GONE, AND YOU CAN NEVER GET IT BACK!

Qrow: SO WHAT DO YOU STILL HAVE?!

Ruby: (Breathing slows, Stops struggling)

Qrow: (Lets go)

Ruby: (Slides into her butt, Looks at hands)

Ruby: (Closes thumb)

Ruby sneaks into the dormroom. Weiss is looking away, studying at her desk. Reaching forward, she readies to pinch Weiss' neck. Aaaaaaaaand...

"Ruby, don't even. I'm studying right now."

Ruby: (Closes second finger)

Ruby looks up to see Blake glaring through binoculars. With a growl, she calls down to everyone. Even through the howling winds and the pouring rain, she can still hear her.

"Grimm, two hundred yards ahead!"

Ruby: (Closes third finger)

"Just you wait and see!"

Ruby watched as Jaune boasted from his perch by the lake. There was a tackle box of lures sitting next to him, rented from the boathouse close by. He jabbed a thumb to himself.

"Back home, I was the fish champion!"

Ruby: (Closes fourth finger)

"Ruby, if you keep pestering me, you won't get as much as everyone else."

Ren warned from his place at the stove. Without looking, he knew she was sneaking sugar into his recipe. She thought it would help the kelp and algae taste. Ren thought otherwise.

"Trust me, Ruby! I used to bandage up Renny all the time when we were kids! I even taught him a few things!"

Nora wrapped the gauze tight around Ruby's hand. Her fingers felt a little cold, but Nora assured that was her blood loss talking. Later, she'd verify with Ren.

Ruby: (Tears brim, Closes fist and a thumb)

"Huh? You wanna learn how to pick pockets? I guess I can teach you a thing or two."

The lessons didn't last long, but Ruby did learn a thing or two about snatching jewelry and wallets. That is, until Weiss and Ren came after her and Nora respectively. Emerald feigned ignorance, of course.

Ruby: (Closes other hands finger)

"Oh! Greetings, Ruby, my friend! Would you like to join me in my routine self-diagnostic?"

Ruby carefully backed away from her best friend. However, no was never an acceptable answer for Penny. So, taken by the hand again, Ruby was forced to think about herself with Penny. It was nice, but always ended with her feeling like she should go see a doctor.

"Do not worry, Ruby, my friend! I'll always be at my most functional for your mission!"

"Good morning, Miss Rose. Did you sleep well? A rested mind is the greatest tool in a Huntresses arsenal."

With a blink, the former headmaster of Beacon returned to his host's mind, leaving the awkward boy alone with the awkward girl. He scratched his head and blushed as she did the same, both embarrassed by the sudden shift.

"Uh, g-good morning, Ruby."

Weiss: Ruby!

Blake: Ruby.

Jaune: Crater Face!

Ren: Ruby.

Nora: Ruby~!

Emerald: Ruby.

Penny: Ruby, my friend~!

Ozpin: Miss Rose.

Oscar: Ruby.

''RUBY''

Ruby: (Opens her fingers, Closes her fingers) M-Muh team...

Ruby: (Openly sobbing, Shaking) I STILL HAVE MY TEAM! WEISS! BLAKE! JAUNE! NORA! REN! PENNY! OSCAR! EMERALD! PROFESSOR OZPIN! THEY'RE MY TEAM!

Ruby: I need to see 'em! I NEED TO SEE 'EM!

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Find the word

Thanks to @winterandwords here, @frostedlemonwriter here, and @paeliae-occasionally here!

My words: wild, free, escape, away, wind, deep, guitar, shame, time, ball, intense, fast

Your words: real, offer, shallow, hour

Tagging @mundanemoongirl @atelierwriting @she-who-fights-and-writes @riveriafalll @theeccentricraven

+ ANYONE ELSE

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

@nebula--nix @literarynecromancy @honeybewrites

SOTL intro

SOTL tag list (ask to be +/-): @illarian-rambling @katwritesshit @wyked-ao3

Keep reading for:

Lexi knows everyone's schedule

Kwasiyaa and Dylan are running

Lexi is upset

Lexi is still upset

Rose has found something

Lexi finds Ash

Jack's poetry assignment

Science fiction bullshit

Tyler's powers

Akash was staring (:

Lexi doesn't have a partner

Wild - from The Secret Portal Part Two (Lexi POV)

“Our orchestra concert is next Friday,” I added on. “Maddie’s choir concert is next Saturday, the twenty-first. So we’ll show up in Alium that Sunday morning. That weekend is going to be wild. Jazlyn and Wade both have a football game on Friday, and Ewan and Hye-Jin have concerts Saturday. I think Parker may be going to Wade’s game and Ewan and Jazlyn to each other’s activities. And Robbie has a winter play next week Thursday through Saturday. So next weekend will be vacant until Sunday.” “How do you know what everyone’s doing?” Ash asked, finally saying something and looking up from her largely untouched food. I blinked. “I dunno. I just remembered everyone talking about it.” “What else do you know, their birthdays?” “Yeah,” I said.

Free - from The Secret Portal Part One

In what could only be a temporary hesitation, Kwasiyaa ensured her cloak concealed them as she adjusted the bag on her shoulder with her free hand. She gave Dylan’s hand a squeeze with the other, and they were off again.

Escape - from The Secret Portal Part One (Lexi POV)

I threw up my arms to pull my hair, trying to hold back the tears that were pushing their way to the world outside of their ducts, which made me angrier. I get upset or frustrated or stressed and immediately start crying. It was frustrating, and no one understood. No one except Ash. I could tell she saw the tears, and she gave me a look of sympathy. To escape last year’s memories, I stormed out of the room.

Away - from The Secret Portal Part One (Lexi POV)

I opened my eyes and saw a small purple flower dancing in the breeze. Bright petals swirled around the middle. It was beautiful, but I wasn’t in the mood. I glared at it. It had to go away. I hated it was happier than me, and it was a plant.

Wind - from The Secret Portal Part One (Maddie POV)

“Wait,” Rose said, putting her hand up again. “Do you hear that?” Everyone fell silent. Everything else was silent. No wind rustled the grass, no trees swayed. No birds chirped. Nothing. Noelle sighed, “I don’t he—” “Shh,” Rose hushed. She slowly moved forward, then sat on the ground on her heels. “Guys, come here.”

Deep - from The Secret Portal Part One (Lexi POV)

My head whipped to my right to see a patch of vines wrapped around a tree. I yelped as they detached themselves and snatched in the air toward me, jumping back and almost tripping on the uneven ground. I staggered until it appeared they couldn’t get to me. The vines seemed to notice something above them, and I followed them up until a sight caused a deep shudder to course through me. Ash hung above my head, tangled in and thrashing against the vines that twisted around her body. “Oh, my—! Ash!”

Guitar - N/A

Shame - from School of the Legends Year One

She handed him his completed rubric, signaling it was time to go back to his desk. Despite the classmates who whispered to him that they had his back, it felt like the walk of shame. Jack slunk into his desk and read through the rubric. He mentally added the points in his head and found himself at a C. One of the notes Mrs. McGuire had was, “Your poem is fine—it just didn’t meet the entire requirements.”

Time - from The Secret Portal Part One

William put down his tablet and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses. He’d been working so late that it was now early. It was so quiet he could hear the snakefly behind him violently flapping its wings. He sighed, then reread the last paragraph he’d written: Replicating the negative energy density found in a chronokinetic’s rifts is no easy task. The level needed to connect one time to another is far greater than a Level-7 teleporter, but nowhere near the level in the portal that connects our reality to Ceteri, nor even a dimensiokinetic. If chronokinetics were less seldom, perhaps this task would be accessible.

Ball - from The Secret Portal Part One (Gwen POV)

“Oh, Tyler, what’re your powers?” I asked when I sensed something might escalate into an argument I didn’t want to be a part of. “Oh, photokinesis,” he answered. “Light.” He outstretched his palm, a soft ball of light appearing in it. He closed his hand. “Nice,” I said, smiling. Now that I was seeing more of this, I was starting to like it despite myself.

Intense - from The Secret Portal Part One (Akash POV)

Gwen sank into the workout bench a minute ago. She said she needed some space to think up a game plan. Her brow was now furrowed in intense concentration, and she rapidly smacked one of her drumsticks on her knee. “You good, Akash?” Robbie asked, pulling me out of a trance that I didn’t know I was in. I was staring! At Gwen! Shit shit shit shit shit!

Fast - from The Secret Portal Part One (Lexi POV)

“Lexi?” Mrs. Korrin asked. “Don’t you have a partner?” I looked around the room. “No, everyone else is taken.” “Hm, I know we have an even number of kids—” The door slammed open, and a kid with messy dark hair was panting in the doorway. “Greyson,” Mrs. Korrin sighed, “is it going to be like this every day?” “Sorry, Mrs. Korrin,” said Greyson, moving to his seat. “Not so fast, we’re partnering up, and Lexi doesn’t have a partner. Get your worksheet, and come sit next to her.”