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afpwestcoast · 1 year

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Colony, Woodstock, NY, 11/12/22

We entered the venue and found a “television” on the stage tuned to AshyTV (aka Amanda’s 7yo son Ash in a couple of cardboard boxes). Amanda had poked her head out just before doors opened to warn us that this was happening. My friends Fuzzy and Mo were the first in the door and did most of the interacting with him.

There were several programs available on AshyTV, each with its own script. At one point Ash looked at his script and said, “I’m not doing this one. It’s too embarrassing.” He briefly showed us the script which was basically a piece of paper completely filled with “poop poop poop poop poop …” written in childish scrawl. When we selected the Weather Channel he said, “Today it will be sunny … or cloudy.” After a pregnant pause he admitted, “I don’t really know.” To which we replied, “Oh! So you ARE a real weatherman!”

At one point there was some discussion about whether some money should be inserted into the slot in the “television,” you know, to keep AshyTV up and running. At first Ash was very hesitant to ask for money (taking after his Uncle Jason, no doubt), but after some gentle coaxing from Fuzzy he warmed to the idea.

“So you would like some money?” Fuzzy asked.

“Yes.”

At this Fuzzy instantly turned around and yelled, “Tom!” Because I am a wallet with legs. Apparently. I gave him a dollar.

After leaving the stage Ash dispatched his minion (aka Krys Fox) to deliver a signed, handwritten note to Fuzzy. All of this reportedly caused him to strut around declaring that since he had A) been on TV, B) gotten paid, and C) handed out an autograph he was now officially rich and famous. Definitely a tough act to follow.

On closing night it is almost impossible not to sit and reflect on the entire stint of shows, so here is my high-level analysis.

Thursday night was by far the most polished of the three. The band was fresh, energetic, and well-rehearsed. They torched through their set with nary a hiccup and clearly enjoyed themselves. This is all well and good for Professional Musicians, but (let’s be honest) is not necessarily what we’ve come to expect from The Dresden Dolls.

Friday night they were more tired, but powered through. But you could tell that the edges were starting to fray a bit and they were losing a bit of the virtuosic control they exhibited on Thursday. This all came to a head with the collapse and epic recovery during Sing (which was well-timed, by the way, considering that this was the last song of the night). I think when they lost control they found themselves. Forced to improvise on the spot and create magic out of mayhem, they remembered Oh yeah! This is what we do! This is who we are!

And then came Saturday.

On Saturday the band was exhausted and all out of fucks. But they were also emboldened and fearless. Let chaos reign and we will make it our bitch. THIS was the Dresden Dolls of old. THIS was pandemonium turned into art. THIS was the only place in the universe that I wanted to be.

Overall I would say that Saturday night was the best night by far. However, the best moment of all 3 shows was the acoustic Sing at the end of Friday night.

Some Highlights:

Svitlana Zavialova (aka Wu Woman) performed another mesmerizing dance of martial movements and created another spontaneous painting. What a joy to watch!

Just before Mandy Goes to Med School, Manta conveyed to Amanda the breaking news that the Nevada Senate race had been called, securing control of the Senate for the Democrats. There was much rejoicing (and oh so relevant to the topic of the song).

You would have thought that Brian had learned his lesson after breaking a lightbulb last night. Tonight he broke two. A shard from the first one hit me on the cheek less than a centimeter below my eye. It’s all fun and games until somebody loses an eye.

After the show last night we were talking to Manta and he told us that they were going to make a video of him playing on Fight for Your Right tonight to show to his son. So when he hit the stage tonight we started chanting MANTA! MANTA! MANTA! so his son would know he’s a rock star. For the first half of the set I was standing right next to rock photographer extraordinaire Krys Fox, which meant I had to temper my traditional drunken flailing somewhat so as not to interfere with his sight lines. But in the second half - after appearing on stage for Delilah - the lovely and talented Veronica Swift appeared beside me. We bonded instantly and spent the rest of the show bopping and dancing and singing along at the top of our lungs. So. Much. Joy.

The Aftermath:

Sunday morning I was sitting, collecting my thoughts and assessing my state. I decided that these shows were the psychic equivalent of a Rolfing massage. I felt completely worked over, but also fully at peace and oddly content. I realized that there had been a huge Dresden-Dolls-shaped hole in my soul for the past five years.

But that will apparently not be a problem anymore! At the Patreon brunch Amanda announced that soon (6mos to a year) The Dresden Dolls would be her full-time job(!). This will entail some changes to the Patreon. She said The Dresden Dolls are the visible mushroom above a huge subterranean mycelium support network of staff and crew and venues and fans that is invisible to the casual observer but critical to the band being able to do what it does. The Patreon will be woven into this network to help ensure that the band can focus more on art and less on business. The full contours of this change have yet to be defined but I have full faith that it will be amazing!

Annotated Set List:

Good Day (Brian on guitar then drums)

Sex Changes

Gravity

Bad Habit

Backstabber The first pause in the set came earlier tonight than in previous nights driven by the fact that Brian didn’t have the set list.

Modern Moonlight There was some initial confusion over whether to solicit audience participation and what key they were in. Amanda decided to punt the plan and press on regardless, but the audience joined in nonetheless.

My Alcoholic Friends toward the end of the song Amanda sloppily took a shot of something (provided by Manta) but ended up spitting most of it out over the crowd. As you do.

Missed Me This was the most fun I’ve seen them have with this song. It all started innocently enough with Amanda screwing up the lyrics right off the bat (as is tradition). About halfway through I started to notice a lot of small shards of wood bouncing around on Brian’s drums when all of a sudden he put his drumsticks down, picked up the bass, and started playing it, leaving Amanda befuddled. Then he curled up in a ball on the stage behind the drum set prompting Amanda to announce “Brian has left the band!” Eventually he bounced up and retook his seat, so Amanda yelled, “Brian has returned!” But after a few furtive drumbeats he stood up and walked off the stage, so Amanda repeated “Brian has left the band!” She clearly had no idea what he was doing but was willing to let things play out to see where it went. When they had finally reset and seemed ready to continue Amanda had forgotten where she was in the song. She started rapidly muttering the lyrics under her breath and when she got to “If you miss me, mister, why do you keep leaving?” she yelled out, “OH I GET IT: HE KEEPS LEAVING!!” They did finish the song. Eventually.

Mrs. O

Astronaut

Delilah (featuring Veronica Swift) Brian gave Veronica a bit more detailed introduction tonight. She comes from a family of jazz / bebop artists and has been a Dresden Dolls fan since she was 12. She put out an amazing album called This Bitter Earth that features a cover of Sing, which is how Brian became aware of her.

The Gardener (Brian on bass and drums)

Whakenewha (pronounced Fuckin-A-Fa) Amanda said that she had written 2 albums of Dresden Dolls songs while in New Zealand, but while she might use a couple of them most of them were going in the trash because she’s not the same person anymore.

Ultima Esperanza

(You Gotta) Fight for Your Right (to Party!) (Beastie Boys cover) Manta on base, Amanda on drums, Brian on electric guitar.

Amsterdam (Jacques Brel cover) Amanda singing from the balcony, Brian on guitar from the stage.

Mandy Goes to Med School Amanda called this the jazziest song about abortion and proclaimed that America needs more jazz songs about abortion! Somehow an unexpected cover of Careless Whisper by George Michael spontaneously emerged towards the end of the song, but honestly there’s a nonzero chance of that happening any time Amanda sings.

Coin-Operated Boy THIS IS NOT A SONG ABOUT A VIBRATOR.

War Pigs (Black Sabbath cover)

Half Jack Both of their dads were in the audience tonight and this was not the first time that had happened. The first time, many years ago, Brian’s dad was enthusiastically requesting Half Jack but was told that Amanda couldn’t play it in front of her dad. Now she can. There is no wound that cannot be healed.

Girl Anachronism Amanda asked, “Who here did not have a complicated childhood?” When I raised my hand Amanda yelled at me, “FUCK YOU TOM YOU HAD A COMPLICATED CHILDHOOD!” I replied, “No, but I’ve had a complicated adulthood!” To which Amanda sniffed, “We’ll talk about it later.”

——

Truce Brian introduced a young drumming protégé of his named Dylan, who was in the audience, and then ceremoniously presented him with a fractured mallet attached to a drumstick with gaffer’s tape. Brian had shattered the mallet at a show at the Paradise in Boston in 2017 and had to MacGuyver a solution to finish the show.

Sing A motley collection of crew, friends, dads, and colleagues filed onto stage behind the band to join in on this one, as befits closing night.

Photo Gallery:

AshyTV is on the air! (2nd & 3rd photos by Moran Kerpick-Isaacs)

There is a villain on the loose. He sent this message. -Ash

Official set list

Good Day. Pretty much the only song they play fully dressed.

Whatever else you want to say about The Dresden Dolls, they certainly have expressive faces!

Amanda: I am displeased.

Brian: Whattaya want from me??

If anything Veronica Swift was even better on Delilah tonight.

Amanda looking like a punk cabaret Statue of Liberty.

The Gardener’s coming to collect.

MANTA! MANTA! MANTA! MANTA!

Fight for your right!

Amsterdam!

Always in contact, constant communication, each feeding off the other.

All and sundry (both dads!) on stage for Sing; an epic finish to an epic show.

The author in his natural habitat. (Photo by Hayley Rosenblum.)

My partner in crime, Veronica Swift. (Photo by Krys Fox.)

Family portrait! (Photo by Krys Fox.)

Amanda sings In My Mind at Sunday brunch.

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fyreblood · 2 years

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𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑　𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍　𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑　 ; 𓈊 — 　closed 　for　@pvrpuras !

“　𝘸𝘦'𝘷𝘦　𝘯𝘰𝘵　𝘺𝘦𝘵　𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵　𝘢𝘭𝘭　𝘰𝘶𝘳　𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘴 　 𖥔 　　𝘵𝘩𝘦　𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴　𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭　𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺　𝘪𝘯　𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴　.　”

　𝕳 er footsteps are silent as they meet the uneven pavement of the streets. the waterbender flits through the shadows like a brush of air, blending easily into the shadowed edges of the red city more so than she had in the glittering hari bulkan. it is eerily quiet here, save for sounds of guards patrolling, though even then they were few and far as the early hours fell upon the capital like a pacifying curtain. a night of chaos has slowly seeped away into this thick, tense air of a new dawn in which the princess is sure would be no less a pandemonium as the events before, yet the apprehension of the city makes it seem only more lulled. and so, kang saet-byeol finds herself once again outside the walls of her residence, having left two hours after she’d only just returned. her plans had been foiled twice already, with her attempts to find the person she was seeking continuously being interrupted, but now she was adamant that nothing should stand in her way.

having successfully bypassed the security of the hari bulkan for the first time that night, the assassin slips into the covert darkness of the red city, her feet taking her to the address she had narrowed down by surveillance days before. it is the home of a healer. she had been given a list back in the north, merely a scrawled scrap of paper reciting the names and general locations of those who would likely be beneficial to her cause once she arrived in the fire nation. at the top of that list, was a familiar name: zhang mei ling, a fellow assassin from the water tribes who, though saet had never formally met her, she knows of well. or at least well enough to know what powers the girl similarly possessed and that she is someone saet would much rather have on her side than against.

by the clock ticks just past four in the morning, the blood-bending assassin comes face to face with another of her kind. a knock on the door is the only thing that pierces the silence and she winces at the noise it makes, withdrawing her hands quickly to pull the hood of her cloak up. the dark fabric obscures her face from anyone potentially lurking around the alleyways and only when the door opens, ever-so-slightly, does she allow her features to meet the light. saet-byeol knows that it would take the southern water-bender in front of her not long to recognise the princess of the neighbouring tribe and so without a pause, she whispers a greeting into the night, quiet enough that no one but mei ling could here her before her words are swiftly carried away by the wind.

“apologies, lady zhang. i didn’t mean interrupt you at such an inconvenient hour . . . but i’ve been looking for you. would you mind if i come in?”

#.　𓆩 𝕾 𓆪 / . threads — 𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒅’𝒆𝒂𝒖 #( 🌊 ) & . zhang mei ling — i.

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mirallaser · 2 years

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Scrawl game

That's because Pinch 'n' Pass is about quick wits and even quicker responses it's a naming game where anyone is able to join in. There aren't any complicated rules to get your head around, it's easy to understand, and there's no waiting for your go. It's also great for people who don't really like party board games. Want to break the ice and give everyone something to focus on? This is it, chief. In fact, it’s perfect for kicking off games night. Pinch 'n' Pass may sound simple, but that’s no bad thing. Herd Mentality has longevity on its side, in other words. This helps the group bond, bringing down walls and giving everyone something to smile about. Most importantly, each group's answer will be different. Thanks to some downright weird questions, it kick-starts fun conversations (would you rather have toes for fingers or fingers for toes?) as well. That makes this a winner with folks that don't usually play board games. Basically, it's a dream so far as rules go you can give the elevator pitch and be playing in under a minute. If you end up in the majority, you earn a cow token. After drawing a card with questions covering everything from the 'best' sauce to the most useful app on your phone, you've got to scribble down what you think most players will say. It's a straightforward idea that's easy to teach, too. Gentle, light-hearted, and unassuming, this is something everyone can try their hand at. Want an icebreaker or a good board game for families? You couldn't ask for a better candidate. Many of the best party board games ask you to stand out from the crowd, but Herd Mentality isn't one of them. Instead, it thrives on simply having a laugh. The funniest response wins, but that doesn't mean Scrawl is a game about point-scoring. The original idea becomes unrecognisable after a couple of rounds, and that usually results in something hilarious (this is definitely a board game for adults). They've then got to write down what they think is happening, at which point their neighbour has to draw what they've written, and so on.Īs you can probably tell, things descend into pandemonium very quickly. Perhaps that's "photocopying your balls." Maybe it's "putting makeup on an owl." Either way, your doodle is passed along to the next player. Creating in-jokes is its speciality.Ī NSFW blend of Telephone and Pictionary, Scrawl kicks off with a ridiculous prompt card that tells each player what to draw. A dirty-minded road trip through the weirder parts of your brain, it's delightfully odd. Want the best party board game for adults? Scrawl fits the bill - and then some. They make things far more interesting, particularly if there's a lot of you around the proverbial (or literal) table. There's also a hunter that can take another player down with them if they're accused of being a werewolf, a tanner who wants to get caught, and - well, plenty more. Along with Seers that are able to check one other person's identity during the night and Drunks who swap player cards at random, you might become an Insomniac who can check their card to see if it's been tampered with. New roles have also been added to stir the pot. Meanwhile, the werewolf - if there is one, which isn't guaranteed - has to go undetected. However, there's a key difference - rather than villagers being picked off one by one over multiple in-game nights, they only have a single round to decide who the monster is. Much like other versions of Werewolf, it starts with the group being given secret roles and 'going to sleep'. A social deduction game that's essentially wink murder on a grand scale, this version deserves a place on everyone's shelf - particularly if you want suggestions for Halloween board games. You can't beat classics like Mafia, and One Night Ultimate Werewolf proves there's still plenty of gas left in the tank.

#Scrawl game

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capricorn-stark · 3 years

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Late Night Drives w the Batboys

warning: none

a/n: just trying headcanons lol, lmk me what you think. also, tysm once again for 100 follows you guys!!!

Dick Grayson

The drives probably happen after a date or after he picks you up from work/uni on a Friday night

First thing he does every time is turning on the radio

He’s down for whatever you like listening to, but if you’re good with anything it’s probably just pop hits

You’ll probably hear him humming some of the tunes under his breath or tapping his fingers against the wheel to match the beat

He loves talking and making conversations with you while driving

Will tell you about all sorts of crazy shit going on in his life, whether it’s about his day job or what happens during patrols

Loves listening to your stories and about the random issues going on in your life, gives great advice (when it’s not him making the decisions) and is just generally wonderful to talk to

He feels like the type of guy to take your hand while he’s driving or when you’re just sitting at a red light or stuck in traffic

You’re either going to drive around for the sake of driving around, or he’ll take you to one of Bludhaven’s docks or some hillside, some place with a nice view

Sitting on the hood of his car and just talking while he holds your hand, wraps his arms around your waist, brushes your hair out of your face

Just little things that make you know he’s paying attention and makes you feel like he really loves you, which he does

Jason Todd

If you’re in a car, he would be blasting music and it would probably be both of you screaming out the lyrics to the song that’s on

I feel like there would be a time where one of you doesn’t know the lyrics and tries to discreetly look them up without the other person realizing it

The other person totally figures that out and you never let them live it down

Probably the handsier type, one hand on the wheel while he drives, other hand resting on your thigh

Acts like he doesn’t know the effect he has on you

But he definitely does, considering how long you’ve been together

I also feel like he’d probably take you for trips on his bike instead of a car, though, so if you’re taking his bike:

He likes having your arms wrapped around him while he drives, he likes feeling you relax and resting your head against his shoulder

He loves driving, so he might just take you down long mostly-empty roads and just fly through the night

Depending on his mood and yours you could be talking about anything from his dark traumatic past to discussing how great the new chilidog place is downtown

With Jason you can literally never tell

Will probably pull over at some point to chill on his bike, talk, or kiss

He’s bad at telling you he loves you so times like these are his way of letting you know that

Driving is his way to escape, and he loves having you there with him to feel like you and him are the only things that matter for a little while

Tim Drake

You’re probably the one dragging him out of the house or his office just to get him to stop working for an hour or so

He’ll definitely protest saying he has “so much work to do” and how he’s “so close to being done”, but you both know he secretly loves taking a break just to drive with you

It’s mostly just you guys talking about absolutely anything and everything, from his life at WE to philosophical debates about stupid shit

And I mean just random, stupid shit

“If you drop soap on the floor, is the floor clean or is the soap dirty?"

“If I try to fail, but succeed, which one did I do?"

“...Tim, is this a personal question? Because I feel like you’re talking about something you personally went through right now-”

He gets really into these kind of conversations

You’ll probably stop by a drive-through to grab something to eat while chilling in your car

He’ll let you steal his fries

Unless he was talking about how his day was going and brings up the office, he won’t even mention work

He’s definitely way more interested in you and what you have to say, he loves hearing about your problems and trying to think of ways to help you get around them

These would be some of the few times he really gets to forget about everything else and focus on just you, and he loves it

Damian Wayne (aged up)

Honey, he steals the Batmobile

Like actually, he’s done it before in the comics to impress chicks and you can bet he’d do it again

If he acts this way as a literal twelve year old imagine what he’s gonna do when he’s older

You’d have a fine time perusing around in it, clicking all the weird buttons it has just to “test out” the different functions

You may or may not have accidentally activated the flamethrowers Bruce had installed for unknown reasons

And that may or may not have ended up getting you guys caught after some poor GCPD officer on a late shift saw the Batmobile zooming down the street with a whole column of fire shooting out of it, but it ended up being okay because Damian acted like he didn’t know what his father was talking about when he was confronted with it

Otherwise, you’d probably end up on a late night drive after you and Damian decide to ditch a gala or some random fancy party

“It was far too stuffy to stay in that place, Father will understand our absence.”

“Damian, you were hosting the event.”

He lets you do most of the talking during the drive because he likes listening to you and the sound of your voice

He’ll still act all cool, but he’ll be smiling and letting out the occasional laugh at your stories here and there, adding on his own snarky comments or stories every once in a while

Instead of going home, he’ll probably want to take you somewhere to grab dinner or just to head to a nice part of Gotham to get a moment between yourselves and enjoy a pretty view

He feels like the type of guy who would really be into grand gestures and giving you the best of the best for literally everything

So your late night drives are little moments where he’s dialing all that back just to get some time alone with you, listen to you, and get to know you better

And as much as he’ll deny it to everyone else, he’d love those moments the most

______________________________________________________________

Taglist: @cipheress-to-k-pop

#pandemonium scrawl #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #batboys #batfam #batboys headcanons #batboys imagine #dc #dc comics #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x reader #fluff

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 3 years

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Sweet Pandemonium - Gally (The Maze Runner) Part 6 of 16

Kinda OOC Gally at the beginning, but I can do what I want, shuck you!

~~~~~~~~~~

(not my GIF <3)

You groaned as the dawn of a new day hit you directly in the face. You absolutely hated mornings, and the ever increasing ache in your back from sleeping in the dirt didn’t make things any better. But, you just kept telling yourself that you get out of the Slammer this morning.

You sat up to see Thomas already awake, fiddling with some pieces of grass that managed to grow inside the cell. “Hope you slept better than I did.” You yawned, hearing a couple satisfying cracks when you stretched out.

Thomas chuckled softly. “No, not really.”

You hummed in thought. “That can’t be good, not getting a good sleep, especially since you’re a Runner now.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it.” He huffed.

Minho’s slightly silhouetted figure walking towards the cells caught your attention, and you moved closer to the wooden bars that separated the cells. “Be careful today, yeah? Don’t do anything stupid.” You told Thomas with concern etched onto your face.

Thomas looked confused for a moment, but then nodded once. “I’ll try not to.”

“Y’all look cozy in there.” Minho joked. “Sure you don’t wanna sit this one out?”

“Come on man, get us outta here.” Thomas chuckled.

The cool morning mildew on the grass tickled at your ankles as you hopped out of your cell, the chill giving you goosebumps over your arms. “Good luck out there.” You told the boys.

“What are you, our mother?” Minho sassed, making you roll your eyes.

“We’ll be careful.” Thomas reassured, and you gave him a grateful smile and then giving Minho a sharp glare, which only made him grin.

You watched as the maze doors opened yet again, like clockwork, feeling a clench in your gut as Minho and Thomas ran in. You wished you weren’t such a worrier.

You shook your head, he’s gonna be fine. They both are. But first order of business you made for yourself, you wanted to check in on Alby. Maybe whoever was watching over him a break, if the shank needed it.

Second was to find Chuck, give him that hug that you promised him the night before. You weren’t one to like breaking promises, no matter how tedious it may be. But you could see him at lunch, give him the hug and half your slop that Frypan would serve today.

For all the jokes, you actually enjoyed his cooking, not that you had anything else to compare it to.

Third, you really wanted to sleep in your nice hammock. But since you couldn’t, not until it was the time anyway, you just planned to work just like any other day. Go and build whatever the shuck you were building today.

Heading over to the Med-jacks, you saw a few of your fellow Builders heading over to the Homestead, one of the boys giving you a friendly smile as he passed. Odd, you thought, shouldn’t they be on the way to the Builder’s station? Well, it wasn’t like you were at the moment, so you had no reason to judge you supposed.

You greeted Jeff at the door to Alby’s room. “How is he?” You asked.

Jeff sighed. “Still passed out. Clint’s watching over him right now.”

“Does he need a break or anything?”

Jeff smiled a little. “He just switched out, he’s good to go for a couple hours. Thanks though.”

“Oh, okay.” You nodded, turning back to exit the building, heading over to the Builder’s area.

You smiled to yourself when you saw Gally, his brow furrowed that signaled that he was intensely focused on whatever he was doing. You still didn’t see any other Builders around. “Hey, Gal.” You greeted.

Gally quickly snapped his head towards you with a smile, subtly standing in front of the work bench that had a couple blueprints scrawled over it. “Sleep well?” He teased, knowing fully well you didn’t.

“Ha ha, very funny.” You responded sarcastically. “So, where is everyone? Do we not have work today or something?”

“Uh, no, we do. Just fixing up some broken flooring in the Homestead.”

“Oh. Well, let’s head on over there then.” You went to start walking over, but Gally stopped you

“No, wait,” Gally stuttered, making you look back at him in slight shock. He never stuttered. “Uh, not us.”

You furrowed your brows with a nervous chuckle. “Why is that?”

“Uh, well, uh,” Gally stuttered a bit more, it was starting to concern you.

“Gal, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He said quickly, making you try to stifle another chuckle. He sighed frustratingly.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Should you go see Jeff?”

“Yes, I’m fine, really. I just...ah, shuck it, I’m no good at this.” He took a deep breath. “Remember how you said that you wanted your own place to sleep, away from the Homestead?”

It took a bit of memory retrieval, but you remembered. It was around the first week of being in the Glade. “Yeah, I remember. Especially when you said, ‘Oh, the Homestead not good enough for you, princess?’”

Gally cringed at himself. “Can we just pretend I didn’t say that?”

You giggled and nodded. “Sure thing, Captain. So, why do you ask?”

Gally smirked and moved to the side, allowing you to see the messy blueprint that he was blocking, revealing measurements for a rushed looking drawing of some sort of hut.

You gasped and snapped you head to look at Gally’s slightly flustered face. “Gally.” You said in shock.

Gally scratched the back of his neck and turned his focus to the blueprint. “It’s not much, I know. I sorta made a rough draft of a plan last night when you were in the Pit. Only being here for a short time, I figure you probably aren’t used to sleeping in the same building with a bunch of ugly dudes.” He chuckled nervously.

“Gally...”

“Ah, you hate it, don’t you? I just wanted to make up for getting you punished yesterday. I can do something else if-”

“Gally!” You interrupted with a huge grin on your face.

“W-What?”

You shook your head gleefully. Gally flinched when you threw your arms around his neck, paralyzing him in shock. “I love it, Gally. Thank you.” You grinned into his shoulder.

Gally slowly brought his arms around you and leaned into your embrace, sighing in relief that you didn’t just tear up the blueprints in rage. “Good...that’s good.” He whispered breathlessly.

You pulled away from the hug, still wearing a grin on your face, the muscles starting to ache since it’s been a while since you’ve smiled so much. “Are we gonna get to build it today?” You asked while bouncing on the balls of your feet, causing Gally to smile at your childlike excitement.

“Yeah, at least the foundation. It’s kinda why I wanted it to be just us building it, without those other shanks, you know.” He chuckled. “Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah, of course! Where we building it?”

“I was thinking near the tree line maybe? Near the gardens? It’s quiet there most of the time.”

“Sounds good. Let’s get started then.” You smiled, going over the blueprint to see how the framing would be set up and how long the measurements for how long the planks should be. It was a fairly simple structure, probably only would take a few days to build. Maybe four, if all went well.

You were excited. You’ve always wanted a place for yourself, but always thought yourself selfish for thinking it. It took a lot of self control for you to not do more than just hug Gally however. Just seeing how nervous he was about his plan, since he was usually so confident in everything he does. You’ll be honest, it was super sweet to see.

Gally felt elated after seeing you get so excited about something he made, well, planned to make. If he could’ve made the hut for you overnight, then he would’ve. But he felt so tired after spending a couple hours coming up with a decent blueprint. He was only one guy after all.

Gally didn’t realize he was staring at you sawing a piece of wood until you smiled at him, sweat beading at your forehead. He quickly felt the blood rush to his cheek and tried to focus back on his own task. He hated how flustered only you could make him.

After a couple hours sawing and nailing pieces of boards together to make a wooden foundation, Gally called for a little break just to look it over before moving on.

It was a floorless frame, but you could already imagine what it would be like to sleep alone without a bunch of snoring boys around you.

You looked to Gally to see him already looking at you with a soft smile. “What?” You smiled.

Gally simply shook his head, locking eyes with you before clearing his throat. “Lunch will be soon. We should go wash up.”

You nodded bashfully. “Yeah, Thomas and Minho should be back soon too.”

Gally rolled his eyes at the mention of Thomas, but nodded anyway. “Let’s see what that shank did now.”

You couldn’t help but snort at the comment.

You and Gally stood together at the maze doors with some of the other Gladers, all confused by the loud shifting sounds from inside the Maze. You smiled in relief when you saw the two Runners rounding the corner of the corridor and swiftly entering the Glade. “Well, what the hell’s going on out there?” Newt quickly asked the exhausted boys.

“Yeah, the hell you’ve done now, Thomas?” Gally asked, making you glare at him.

“We found something. A new passage, we think it could be a way out.” Thomas explained.

You quickly jogged to catch up with Thomas. “Are you serious?”

“It’s true.” Minho panted. “We opened a door, something I’ve never seen before. Think it must be where the Grievers go during the day.”

“Whoa, wait.” Chuck said. “What, you’re saying you found the Grievers home? And you want us to go in?”

“Their way in could be our way out, Chuck.” Thomas replied.

“Yeah, or, there could be a dozen Grievers on the other side. The truth is, Thomas doesn’t know what he’s done, as usual.�� Gally expressed angrily, causing Thomas to quickly confront him.

“Yeah, well, at least I did something, Gally. I mean, what have you done, huh? Aside from hide behind these walls all the time?” Thomas snapped.

“Thomas...” You spoke up, trying to stop the argument.

“Let me tell you something, Greenie, you’ve been here three days, alright? I’ve been here three years-”

“Yeah, you’ve been here three years and you’re still here, Gally!” Thomas interrupted. “Alright, so what does that tell you, man? Maybe you should start doing things a little differently.”

“Thomas!” You snapped, sighing in frustration when they kept arguing, then noticing Teresa walk up to the crowd that surrounded the arguing pair.

“Hey!” Teresa finally interrupted the pair. “It’s Alby. He’s awake.”

“He is?” You asked. She nodded, turning back to the Med-jacks infirmary.

Thankfully, Gally and Thomas stopped bickering for the sake of being there for Alby. You tried not to glare at both the boys, so you just walked behind with Newt. “You alright?” He asked.

You sighed. “Yeah...” You glanced down to his leg. “How about you?” You tried not to mention how obvious his limp was today, knowing it was a touchy subject, but he knew what you were asking anyway.

“Just a bit more sore than usual. That’s all.” Newt weakly smiled.

Gally kept glancing back at you as you all were walking to the infirmary, but you kept your eyes to the ground.

“Has he said anything yet?” You asked Teresa as you entered Alby’s room.

“No.” She sighed.

“Alby.” Newt called out softly, slowly sitting down beside the stoic boy. “Alby, you alright?”

Alby didn’t respond. He just sat there, looking straight forward with tears in his eyes.

Thomas moved passed you to kneel in front of Alby. “Hey, Alby. We might’ve just found a way out of the Maze. You hear me? We could be getting out of here.”

Alby gently shook his head. “We can’t.” He whispered tearfully. “We can’t leave. They won’t let you.”

Thomas glanced back at the group for a moment. “What’re talking about?”

“I remember.”

“What do you remember?” Thomas asked, his voice wavering slightly.

Alby turned to look at Thomas. “You.” He said, making everyone turn to look at the shocked boy. “You were always their favorite, Thomas. Always.”

A commotion from outside caused you to lose on the conversation. What the hell was going on? When the shouting got louder, you ran outside, everyone else quickly following behind.

It was getting dark outside, a bunch of Gladers lighting up torches and running around in a frenzy. “What the hell is going on?” Thomas asked Winston.

“The doors, they aren’t closing.”

You looked to the doors and he was right, they weren’t closing. You and Gally gave each other worried looks, but you quickly followed after Thomas to stand in front of the doors. “I don’t understand. Why aren’t they closing?” You voiced, mostly to yourself, but you never got a response as an ear splitting clank echoed around the Glade.

You all looked in the direction of the noise, behind you, and what you saw was terrifying. Birds flying away in the distance as you all saw another entrance to the Maze opening up, the lack of use making it squeal and grind against the aligned stone pavement.

You didn’t even know there were other entrances, and by the look of everyone else’s faces...they didn’t either. You only noticed Gally moving you closer to him when another piercing clank echoed.

To the right, another entrance opening. Then one more...all four sides of the Maze were open.

“Okay, Chuck, I want you to go to council hall and start barricading the doors.” Thomas said.

“Winston, you go with him.” Newt said.

“Get the others. Tell them to go to the forest, go hide, now!” Gally ordered.

“Teresa, Y/N,” Thomas voiced, “we’re gonna go get Alby, okay?”

You were about to nod in agreement, but Gally grabbed your arm. “No, she’s staying with me.”

You didn’t have time to protest when all of a sudden, a bunch of Gladers to the left started running away screaming. A shrill howl was heard from where you all were standing. You all looked down the entrance to see a Griever, a real live Griever.

“Alright, everybody hide!” Thomas yelled.

“Come on!” Gally yelled, grabbing your hand and quickly forcing you to run with him.

It was the complete opposite direction of Thomas and Teresa, but you couldn’t hesitate or else you’d be Griever food. You just had to trust that they’d be safe, so you followed Gally.

You weren’t used to running for your life, you never had to, not from horrifying monsters. You probably weren’t the best runner, but you did your best to keep up with Gally and the two other Gladers that followed him.

You heard screams all around you, itching so bad to help whoever needed help. You teared up at the thought of your friends dying in pain, but you had to be selfish. You wiped away tears that were blurring your vision. Looking to the left of you, you saw a Glader, who you couldn’t remember the name of, injured, desperately trying to crawl to safety.

“Fuck...” You whispered to yourself, before turning to help the kid.

“Y/N, no!” Gally yelled, briefly stopping before making it to the Box.

You quickly made it to the boy, quickly seeing lacerations all over his body. “Help me...” He said pitifully, blood seeping out of his mouth. You didn’t hesitate as you helped onto his feet, the weight of him quickly slowing you down as he wasn’t that much help.

Gally looked on in panic as you stupidly played hero. His panic only grew more as he saw a Griever spotted you two. “Y/N, you gotta leave him! Now!”

You looked behind you to see a Griever quickly catching up to you and the nameless Glader. You looked to the boy with panicked eyes, seeing that he was on the verge of unconsciousness.

You let out a sob as you dropped the boy to the ground, the Griever quickly finishing the job and gnashing him up with its jagged razor sharp teeth.

You being able to run full speed gave Gally a smidge of relief, but you were so full of guilt that you couldn’t focus on how fast you were running. “Hurry!” Gally’s voice snapped you out of your your own head and you soon ran at full speed, but it was too late.

You yelped as the Griever wrapped its tail around your ankle, tripping you and making you plummet to the ground.

You rolled over to see one of the Griever’s metal legs open up to reveal a syringe, but just in time, you dodged and rolled away, only to be trapped beside another leg. The Griever looked at you, almost tauntingly, before opening up its disgusting mouth, causing its thick drool to pour out of its mouth heavily onto your face.

You couldn’t believe you were about it die by this ugly thing, with the most disgusting thing you’ve ever tasted in your mouth, besides Frypan’s food.

But death never came.

Before the monstrous creature could tear you to shreds, you heard it screech in pain and you felt yourself being harshly pulled out from underneath the Griever. “Gally?”

“You’re so shucking stupid!” Gally huffed, carrying you to the Box in his arms.

You were quickly placed in the arms of another Glader as Gally hopped in the Box and closed the doors, quickly shushing everyone.

You were gently placed down on the floor, and you suddenly noticed the throbbing pain in your leg. You lifted your pant leg up to see blood seeping out of multiple cuts up your lower leg.

After it was quiet for a few minutes, Gally finally exhaled harshly. The only thing your mind focused on was the distant screams of your fellow Gladers. Please be okay, you thought to yourself. “What the hell were you thinking?” Gally scolded, but still aware to keep his voice at a low volume even when he wanted to scream at you.

Knowing that he definitely wasn’t addressing that to the other Gladers, you lifted your gaze up to Gally’s enraged face. “I thought I could help him...” You whispered, looking back down to the floor in guilt and shame.

Gally quickly kneeled down to your level and placed his hand under your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You almost died. You almost fucking died. Look at your fucking leg. You’re lucky it was only your leg.”

You harshly pushed Gally’s hand away, making his glare increase if that was even possible. “Well, I’m alive so...”

Gally gave you an incredulous look and stood up to pace around the Box.

Your bottom lip trembled, your face felt sticky. You lifted up the hem of your shirt to get at least some of the Griever’s drool off your face. You cringed when you pulled away the fabric, seeing that it mostly took off the drool. At least it wasn’t on your face anymore.

Gally sighed when he saw you looking over your wounds, his face softening slightly. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if you had been killed...

“Hey, Gally. It sounds like the Grievers are gone.” One of the Gladers said.

Gally leaned up and slightly peaked out the top of the Box. “I see everyone outside. Let’s go.” Gally said.

The same Glader helped you to your feet, you having a slight limp. You reluctantly took Gally’s hand and he pulled you up, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back. “You okay?” He asked softly.

You nodded, testing out the strength of your wounded leg. “Just a flesh wound.” You said, hissing in pain when you put too much pressure on your leg.

Gally’s scowl came back when he saw your pained face. “This is all his fault.” He spat.

You immediately knew who he was talking about. “No, Gal-”

“It’s his fucking fault.” He turned to walk to council hall, leaving you to follow after him with your limp.

Gally stormed up to council hall, quickly finding Thomas in the crowd. It was hard to keep up with him, but you managed, and you were close enough to see him ball up fist tightly.

“Gally, no!” You shouted when he pulled is fist back and swiftly collided it with Thomas’ face, him immediately falling to the ground.

A few Gladers quickly started to hold Gally back. “This is all you, Thomas!” He fought. “Look around!”

“Hey, back up, Gally. It’s not Thomas’ fault!” Minho quickly defended.

You felt helpless as you watch the chaos ensure, you didn’t know what to do.

“You heard what Alby said! He’s one of them!”

“One of who?!”

“He’s one of them and they sent him here to destroy everything, and now he has! Look around, Thomas! Look around! This is your fault! Everything has been your fault! You’ve gotten us killed! Y/N almost died because of you!” He ranted.

Thomas quickly looked to you, soon noticing your leg, how your blood was bleeding through your pant leg. Jeff quickly went to you with bandages already out, gently sitting you down on the grass as he tried to help you.

“Maybe he’s right...” You faintly heard Thomas say.

You looked to him in confusion, your eyes widening in panic as he was holding a Griever stringer. “Thomas?”

“Thomas, no!” You screamed as Thomas strung himself. Even if you were injured, you crawled your way to the now convulsing boy, along with everyone else. “Chuck, get the other syringe!” Teresa ordered.

“Thomas, you stupid shank.” You cried.

~~~~~~~~~~

Oof

#the maze runner #tmr gally #gally x reader #gally #sweet pandemonium series

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noxtms · 3 years

Photo

MARCH 15TH, 2021. it’s two days before the planned st patrick’s day parade ( and evening celebrations ), and the spring festival is in full swing. the joint events have been as huge a success as they always have been : local business has boomed, and to those that care, it’s a pity that arcanum wasn’t back up and running in time to cash in like so many other stores had.

the building that had once been both life’s work & ancestral home of the trelawney’s had lay empty for the best part of two decades, and unfortunately, it showed. structurally sound though it was, near everything within required replacing - be it from water damage caused by several large holes found in the roof or destruction that had been caused by the innumerous break-ins over the years. magic could only go so far, especially when one was working alone. since the purchase of the building had gone through the month before, sybill had taken to apparating to london each weekend, working room by room. a vinyl of celestina warbeck’s greatest hits played loudly from a vintage turntable was her only company as she bustled throughout the building, early morning to darkest evening. it was slow going, and the work had grown monotonous, over time - but she had never expected anything else.

the fifth floor - containing two mirrored bedrooms sybill intended to invite cassia & oriana to personalize - was the first finished. she was making her way top to bottom, slowed even more by the onslaught that was memory. this was the birthplace of cassandra trelawney, the originator of their family status. this was where sybill had spent formative years, walking thin corridors, climbing spindly stairs, learning to read tea leaves at a shaky table in a now dusty kitchen, recording her dreams in a leather bound notebook she had kept on bedside cabinet in the room she had now reclaimed. this was home, and she had been gone from it for far too long.

the lower shop level would be the last to be tackled, working as she was, and so, the bell above the main entrance remained broken. this would join the long list of things to be blamed for why sybill did not hear anyone approaching - scrawled somewhere between the loud record that they’ll find scratching at it’s end & the happy crowd beyond grubby windows that did not remain so, for long. the truth is that when the ministry finds sybill, they’ll only be able to make a guess at what truly happened.

they will theorize that it was unlikely she had any forewarning ( a uniquely ironic phrase, given the woman’s status as a debated seer ). she probably knew her attacker, though it’s hard to say - there is no sign of struggle, and the killing curse does not leave a mark. even if she had realized in time to have a defensive instinct, her wand - nine and a half inch hazel, with a unicorn tail hair core - was found on the floor above her, resting on a rickety coffee table and so very far from reach. they will say she died before it happened, and there’s no reason to think that she felt any pain, or that the situations were connected.

the formal report will lodged by overworked aurors some hours later will not have certain details. there is no witness to the woman with wild hair & hooded eyes, nor her two companions, who apparated into the lane behind the building and entered through unlocked door. no one saw her look of fear, when throat cleared behind her & she turned on heel to see them looming in the doorway. there was no need for a silencing charm. sybill, unable to understand the position she was in, never called for help. bellatrix wasn’t there to interrogate her, and thus, didn’t give her much of a chance, anyway. their time together was short & sweet. the green light went unnoticed, and the loose cannon that was a seer with potential to urge foes in right direction against them was taken off of the playing field, with ease. conspiracy theorists in the future, inclined to look that bit deeper, may get a closer approximation of the truth than those aurors ever did.

but then again : it wasn’t their first priority.

it was such a lovely day. the sun, not quite beating down upon the heads of everyone bustling through the alley, still shone with more strength than it had all winter. the lack of brisk breeze made even the long shadows cast by mismatched buildings almost warm. the wwn predicted rain later that evening, and mothers ushering their children along stole glances every now and again towards the sky, waiting to see the telltale sign of dark clouds rolling in.

the first indication that anyone has to something being truly amiss was actually the sharp drop to the temperature, and the rolling fog that fell over them all, thick enough to hide anyone - and anything - more than a few feet away. thick enough to blot out the sun. the shadows grew longer. they stretched outwards. when the first scream pierces the air, only those nearest are able to see what’s causing those notes of fear.

it doesn’t take more than a moment for everyone else to realize. as the alley explodes into pandemonium, the dementors descend onto them all.

ROUNDUP OF INITIAL FATALITIES & INJURIES ( AS OF THIS DROP ):

sybill trelawney is very, very dead. as brutal as this’ll sound - that isn’t very relevant to this plot drop as a whole, so don’t worry about it ! she’s not.

OUT OF CHARACTER:

rather than transition the on dash event threads towards this plot drop, we’re going to do things a little differently with everyone’s current needs in mind. on dash will remain the period of time that is the start of the month through to the 15th ( which will make things a little less intensive as we begin the next part of the ooc noxtms ~ celebrations ~ ). off dash, and on the discord, several channels covering a number of businesses have been established. they each have a character cap of seven to make things less confusing, and can be used for plot drop rping !

as always with a plot drop of this nature, the discord announcement will include the allowance for injurys. there’s a smaller cap on these than usual, since the dementors themselves are sort of .... 0 - 100, and the injuries themselves will have to be discussed as happening in the chaos rather than from the dementors. that is, unless you uhhh ... really want your character to get a little kiss kiss ! that can be arranged !

the galleon system list has also been updated and now includes a reward of 250 galleons ( per character it’s completed for ) for a 250 word minimum drabble / self para, written with the patronus charm & it’s much-needed usage during this plot drop in mind. if this were english class, the prompt would probably be something to the effect of : write a detailed description of your characters happy memory, or what their experience is about to be, conjuring their patronus in this specific situation. you have a LOT of freedom on it, and can write it in any way you see fit. please feel free to use the tag nox.task on any posted to the dash !

there was never any intention of having a st patrick’s parade / party event. sorry for bamboozling you all, but i think it’s safe to say that after this disastrous ides of march, those events will have been cancelled ! once you’ve read this post, please give it a little like !

#nox.plotdrop009 #nox.important #nox.event013 #hehe #i mean.#rip!

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instruth · 3 years

Text

THE DAY I KNIGHTED A BULL

A sniff, a sip

Aromatic coffee in Madrid

in scented mall by fragrance

a euphoric sense of romance

As I sit in an old disused bull ring

Pensive mood, casually admiring

Today, I dress colorfully

Distinguished, honorably

in alfresco arena to comment

What a spectacular moment

writing a letter to my dear wife

pledging to the love of my life

I whip out my treasured pen

Lo and behold! A touch of zen

What an accommodated commotion

Screaming women and men in motion

An angry bull out in the sun

Is this the famous Bull Run?

Pandemonium! People scramble,

Bottles topple, and tables tumble

Before I can get up

with a double hiccups

to join in the battle fray,

a horn pierces to a slay

Oh what a terrible fall

I feel I’m pinned to a wall

Dizzy, I can barely see

act as brave as can be

The pen from my hand

flings high like a wand

My eyes fix on the bull,

growling puffs and drools

steaming from its nostrils

a deathly grunting of kill

The big bad bull then retreats

digs the ground, hoofs and feet

It looks me straight in the eye

Then charges for a human pie

I pray, “Deliver me, O Lord"

I look to the sky for a word

I see my pen freely dipping, fallen,

like a pointed spear from heaven

piercing the bull between the eyes

spilling inks, blinding it as it sighs

displaying a black print of scrawls

on its face, a writing on the wall:

you live by the horn

the amount you thus measure

now weighs upon you

11 May 2021

HAIBUN

(imaginative Prose & Haiku 5-7-5)

Photo Credit J. P. Lee

#instruth #instruthpoems #instruthpoetry #instruthstories #instruthpuzzles #instruthhumor #instruthwritings #instruthwords #instruth literary contributions #instruthspirituality #warxpunkxmonk #frankl410 #acrobat888 #poetryportal #the day I knighted a bull on the run

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bidnezz · 4 years

Text

Love Yourself

Magnus Bane / Alec Lightwood

Explicit

No Archive Warnings Apply

Summary:

A bath is next on his list, and as the water fills the tub, he takes the moment to check his messages. There are the expected ones from his parents and siblings that say happy birthday, and each and every one of them receives a thank you’d response before he reaches for the new bottle on the countertop with a bright blue bow on it and an inscription that reads “Love yourself!” in Magnus’ scrawl.

Alec Lightwood-Bane appreciates himself on his birthday.

Read on ao3, or down below!

Alec’s birthday has never meant much to him.

It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate the time spent with his family, or the amazing food Magnus procures for him, it’s just that… he isn’t interested in gifts, or celebrations. Being in the spotlight for so long is, frankly, a little embarrassing. He much prefers the attention to be quick and done with, than dragged on and stilted as it always ends up.

That’s not to say there aren’t things about his birthday he does like.

Because at midnight, on the dot, Magnus always makes it a point of showing him exactly how grateful he is that Alec was born. Adamant is he to always be the first to wish Alec a happy birthday, and graciously the last in the evening.

Not that Alec’s complaining. He’ll gladly spend the whole day hidden away in the confines of their room, being brought to the edge and back as a reward that he’s done absolutely nothing to deserve but exist. But to Magnus, that’s enough, and he’ll blissfully reap all the benefits that his husband is willing to shower him with.

So it’s with this expectation that he wakes up in the morning, a little sore but heavily satisfied from the night before. He pushes down the weight of obligation to reply to all the birthday wishes that are likely spamming his phone, because in only a few moments Magnus will realize he’s awake and bring him fully alert.

Only the seconds tick by, and nothing ever comes, because the bed is empty when he swipes his arm across it. Well, almost empty, save for the piece of paper the bends against the motion of his arm, a paper that he plucks from the sheets with his fingers.

Happy birthday, my love!

Breakfast is in the kitchen whenever you’re hungry.

I’ve left your gift in the bathroom,

enjoy some rest & relaxation.

Rest and relaxation?

Quickly, he fumbles with his phone, sitting up and snagging it from it’s spot on the nightstand before he shoots a text to Magnus. Where are you?

The reply is almost immediate, as if Magnus was waiting for his message.

I’m gathering some ingredients in Morocco. Don’t worry, you have the whole day to yourself, I made sure to let everyone know not to bother you today. You can do whatever you like without pesky missions or siblings forcing you to celebrate your birthday at Pandemonium.

There’s an exciting twist in his stomach at Magnus’ words, before suspicion and doubt starts to creep in. A whole day just to himself? He hasn’t had one of those in years, and any opportunity for one nowadays usually involves Magnus as well, not that he’s ever minded.

But this… being alone, not having to worry about forcing a smile for all the birthday wishes from Shadowhunters at The Institute that are barely acquaintances to him, or the uncomfortable feeling of a cold sweat on his forehead that comes from the belief that he’s completely undeserving of all of his family’s gifts and ecstatic smiles. It’s relieving. He loves his family, as chaotic and stressful as they can be, he loves the thought they put into picking something out just for him, and most of the time the practical gifts they hand over to him are perfect. But even after all these years, he still doesn’t feel like he deserves any of it, like there are more important things for them to spend their resources on.

This doesn’t feel like that. This feels… freeing.

It’s with a slight pep in his step that he slips on a pair of boxer briefs and a shirt and heads to the kitchen, stomach already rumbling with the possibilities of what Magnus could have surprised him with today.

---

As the bath continues to rise, he turns the bottle sideways and pours in a hefty amount, letting any residual anxiety or nerves for the day travel out of him before he toes the water and sinks into its warmth.

Baths are a luxury, in Alec’s mind. Showers are efficient, but a bath can be decadent and spoiled, filled with bubbles and oils and flower petals. That’s how he feels now, though the water is clear of bubbles, it feels good and the only thing that he can smell is the calming scents of Magnus’ magic that he can sense is fused into the mixture. Now that he’s thoroughly calmed and unbothered, though…

… he’s not really sure what to do next. Lightly, he pats the top of the water a few times, watches the ripples as they spread across the surface, and does it again. Maybe he should have put on music, or brought a book.

Maybe he should have just taken a shower.

No, no. Magnus made sure to leave the day obligation-free for him, he’s going to enjoy it!

How would Magnus enjoy his bath? Well, he knows how he and Magnus would enjoy his bath. As well-intended as the baths Magnus always draws for him after tense missions always are, they all end the same way. With a sigh, Alec closes his eyes and tries to push those thoughts away.

Only, closing his eyes with thoughts of Magnus in his head brings forth images of the countless other baths they’ve shared. Images of Magnus between his legs, lathering up a loofah and swiping it slow across his taut muscles, working the soap into his skin with the flat of his palm. Magnus, with his gorgeous bronze skin wet with water as he bends down to work his hands around Alec’s cock while it hardens in his grasp.

He peeks an eye open and glances around the room, despite knowing nobody else is there, before smoothing a hand across his chest.

He imagines it’s Magnus, lets himself get lost in the fantasy of reminiscing. Slowly, he brings his fingers across the hairs of his chest, scraping his blunt nails against them the same way Magnus does, although the feel of it is innately different. It’s only a second until he’s coming into contact with a nipple, already peaking and sensitive as he brushes his fingers along it, taking the nub between his fingertips and twisting.

The moan he releases is low, quiet even in the emptiness of the room. It’s a precursor to what he knows is coming as he feels his hips shift up into the friction of nothing, an involuntary reaction to the pleasure that sparks from within. But he doesn’t stop. He continues to tweak and pinch as his other hand slides down his stomach, dips into the valleys of his abdomen, and with his eyes closed and visions of Magnus in his head, he remembers the appreciation that’s often lavished upon this part of his body.

Normally, he doesn’t pay it any mind. He doesn’t think about his body and what it looks like to others. He doesn’t train and exercise and stay fit for the benefit of anyone but himself and his duties. His self-worth isn’t developed from others, and he knows that’s not going to change.

But it’s his birthday, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t feel a swell of pride for the way his hand glides over the toned muscles of his body. He likes the instinctive press of his fingertips into each valley, the way they rise and fall with every breath he sucks in when he thinks of Magnus ghosting kisses and tracing his tongue along each and every rune diligently. The feel of his own fingers just as appreciative and worshiping in this moment, the way his muscles ripple with the pleasure that courses through him as he focuses on his other nipple, all of it makes his cock bob against his lower belly with the need for attention.

So he gives in with as slow a motion as he can manage, running his fingers along the sharp edge of his hips and following them downwards to the tip of his cock. His bottom lip finds its way between teeth that bite gently, and he teases himself with light touches along the underside of his cock that’s already swollen and throbbing under the warm water. He knows he has all day, and he doesn’t want to take this too fast. He wants to relish in the feel of himself surrounded in the smell and feel of the mixture that swirls around each of his senses, wants to rut against his hand and play with himself while encased in the warmth of Magnus’ magic. But it’s becoming too much, too soon, and everything feels enhanced in the water of this bath.

There’s a fleeting wonder if Magnus laced this mixture with an aphrodisiac, but getting answers is the last thing he wants to do right now.

With a shuddered breath, he trails his hand lower, grasping gently at his balls and giving them a gentle squeeze, rolling them between his palms the way Magnus always does so expertly. His hands are clumsier where Magnus’ are purposeful, but in the heat of the water and the building pleasure, it all feels good - amazing.

More thoughts of Magnus flood in, memories of his own cock twitching against Alec’s thigh as he fondles Alec and bites lightly at his nipple, every receptor in his body attuned perfectly to his husband. Even just imagining it now pulls from him another moan as he pinches his nipple harder, squeezes it between the rough edges of his nail to imitate Magnus’ teeth. It works, a little too much because the moan comes out of him louder than expected, though he doesn’t try to stifle it because nobody else is here, nobody else is listening.

When he finally grips his fingers around his cock, it’s with a deep grunt and the thrust of his hips that sloshes water up and over the sides of the tub.

He could come now, could push himself over the edge already with a few quick pumps.

But the Magnus in his mind from the night before shakes his head and grins up at him, and Alec finds himself indulging in the idea of holding off a little longer.

He loves balancing on the edge, loves the exhilaration of almost tipping over, only to be brought back and dragged down further. It’s different now than when Magnus does it, but effective in the tremor of desire that pulses through him.

Tentative is his thumb as he finally loosens his hold and swipes it over the tip of his cock, wet and shiny with the mixture of water and precome. Alec opens his eyes to see it, to stare down at the pad of his thumb swirling around the head, and his middle finger working small motions just under the ridge of it where the sensations seem to increase.

If he tries to picture it, he can almost see and feel Magnus’ tongue in that same spot, flicking over the junction and wracking Alec’s body with shivers that make his toes curl. It feels almost too good, it brings him too close.

One by one, his fingers curl around his length again, taking a slow stroke up and down in an even breath. He has to calm himself now, a different calm than the one Magnus’ concoction brings, because he’s wound himself up so tightly and despite his efforts to make this last, he’s not sure how much longer he can hold on.

But Magnus in his head is encouraging. He whispers all the dirty sort of things Alec loves to hear, things that took him a long time to work up the courage to ask for, the sort of things that would make him blush if he wasn’t already steeped in a warm bath of pleasure.

Touch yourself for me, Alexander. I want you to watch the way your cock slides in and out of your fist, so fucking hot for me, my darling.

Alec does just that, keeps his gaze firmly on the shape of his cock as it slides in and out of view with each shift of his hips that thrusts up into his loose fist. Heat twists low in his belly, the budding orgasm making itself known in the back of his mind as he remains transfixed on his cock. It almost feels like an out-of-body experience, like he’s watching someone else, like the body in front of him is not his own.

It only makes him appreciate it more, every curve and angle of his cock, the way it twitches when he admires it’s length, the way he sighs when he tightens his fist around it’s girth. He loves the way it looks against Magnus’ lips, inside of Magnus and against his skin. He loves the way it looks now a darkened pink against the white of his hands and shaky under the water.

More, Alexander.

“Magnus,” he hears himself whispering. It spurs him on, and the fingers that were playing with his nipples hastily leave their spot to descend lower, past his cock and down against the smooth ridges of his hole.

Just like that…

His legs spread of their own accord, and he feels himself sinking just a bit further into the water as he rubs his finger along his rim, toying with the idea of going further. He’s so close still, he can feel the muscles in his thighs tightening, burning, and can feel the way the flame flickers low inside with the need for release.

The sounds of his ragged breathing fills the space of the room, echoing back to him like a ghost of a lover, and he finds his eyes roaming his body with a heightened admiration. It makes him wish Magnus were here, that Magnus could see him and join in, that Magnus could see how good he looks right now.

Come, Alexander.

With a loud groan, he slips his finger past the rim and deep inside of himself until he’s finally pushed over the edge. Magnus’ name falls from his lips, a cry for the man he loves, the man who brings him this far gone without even being here, and with the spasm of his muscles he feels the short spurts of come that finally release him from their hold.

It takes everything left in him to not submerge himself into the still warm water. With limbs shaky from residual pleasure and exhaustion, he rinses himself off with a new stream of water and steps out of the bath to collapse on the bed, a wet, naked mess.

He knows Magnus would tut and magic him dry, he knows that Magnus doesn’t like Alec to sleep with wet hair, but Magnus isn’t here and it’s his birthday anyways so if there were any day to get away with it, it’s now.

With a final sigh, he let’s the slumber take him.

---

When Alec wakes up for the second time that day, it’s to a 2pm sun that sits high in the sky and warms the bed where the sunlight filters in. Temptation to go back to sleep seeps in, but Alec pushes it back and sits up with a sleepy moan. The pillow is soaked, and the blankets are still damp, so he makes slow work of setting them out to dry, refusing to rush since he’s still allowed the day to relax.

A book sounds good, Alec thinks, as he searches the tomes that fill up the bookcases and settles on something that has caught his eye a few times before. The couch sinks when he sprawls across it, and it’s after a few minutes of reading that he notices Chairman Meow hasn’t settled on top of him like he normally does.

It seems even the Chairman was no exception to Magnus’ birthday rules.

---

The hours pass quickly as Alec loses himself to tall tales of adventure, and it’s nearing 6pm when his stomach finally grumbles in anger.

A long stretch cracks the stiffness in his body from prolonged couch usage, and as he pulls out his phone to see what he can order for dinner, he opens up his messages.

True to his word, Magnus really did make sure nobody bothered him today.

And yet…

Alec sighs, running a finger through his messy hair. If he’s being honest with himself, he kind of misses the chaos that his birthday always brings him. Being alone was great, the perfect gift actually. But as much as he appreciated it - and himself - he kind of wants to spend the rest of the evening with those that he loves. Magnus, especially.

What are you doing?

His knee refuses to cease it’s bouncing from where he sits on the edge of the couch, but he doesn’t have to wait long for Magnus’ reply.

I was having a debate with a cat I just met about the benefits of leaving his mundane owner and joining the ranks of an all-powerful warlock.

Alec snorts and grins affectionately down at his phone when he texts back.

We have enough cats, leave the poor thing alone and come home. Dinner?

Your R&R birthday isn’t over! You’ve still technically got 5 hours.

I’ve had enough, I’d rather spend the rest of it with you.

Only with Magnus can he be so honest, and he feels his heart thud as he waits for the no-doubt sappy message in return.

Actually… The response comes in, and Alec raises a brow. I was sort of hoping you’d say that, because I had a backup dinner plan on reserve just in case. Make your way over to the East Village in thirty?

I’ll be there.

---

When Alec takes that final step onto 1st Avenue and East 9th street, he’s met with a beaming Magnus who’s swaying on the balls of his feet, dressed as casually as he can be with dark liner and flecks of glitter that sparkle light from the setting sun. “Alexander,” he hums as Alec shuffles in to steal a kiss. “How was your birthday?”

“Better now,” Alec sighs against Magnus’ lips.

They’re pressed close in the middle of the sidewalk, and Alec doesn’t even care as he folds closer to Magnus’ heat. He’s normally not one for public displays that last more than a quick peck or hand-holding, but after all the effort Magnus must have gone through to ensure an absolutely uninterrupted birthday, he feels a bit sentimental.

“C’mon, let’s go inside.”

Alec groans a protest, but Magnus smiles a quick kiss to his lip and tugs him into the small restaurant. Before he can even ask if they can take the food to go, a hand from the booth at the end waves him over. It’s Izzy, excited with a wide grin, stuffed into the booth with the rest of his family.

When he turns to Magnus, there’s a shy smile and hopeful eyes. “Who is Alexander Lightwood-Bane without an immense love for his family, even when they drive him crazy sometimes?”

“Magnus,” he begins, but is cut off with the shake of Magnus’ head.

“They promised no gifts, just company. We were all hoping you’d be okay with this?”

Chest tight and eyes threatening to water, Alec leans down to press a light, meaningful kiss to Magnus’ forehead. “Yes, absolutely,” he responds, and Magnus claps his hands together and takes a step towards the table. “Wait!”

At that, Magnus turns with a perked brow. “Wait?”

“I— thank you, Magnus,” Alec says after a pause. “I love you, and I appreciate everything you did today.”

Magnus’ smile warms and alights inside of him the desire to properly convey the love he feels right now. “You’re very welcome, Alexander. Anything for you,” he murmurs and sneaks another kiss before pulling him towards the booth. “I’m glad you enjoyed your bath,” he tosses back with a wink.

Of course Magnus would choose the moment right before they slide into the booth packed with his family to clear Alec’s suspicions from earlier. There’s a question thrown out, something from his mother that he didn’t catch that only exacerbates the pink on his cheeks and the audible gulp he swallows.

“Oh, Alexander was just telling me he had a wonderful time by himself,” Magnus answers for him, resting a hand on his thigh under the table in secret.

Alec coughs. “Ah, yeah. It was… relaxing.” There’s silence as they wait for more, but Alec doesn’t know what more they’re expecting from him, so he finishes with a sincere, “Thank you guys. Truly.”

It seems it’s not only Magnus that brings forth the warmth in his chest, because as he takes in the smiles of all of his loved ones sitting here in the booth of his favorite burger place, he feels his heart swell.

He’s thankful to each and every one of them for respecting his solitude, through Magnus or not, and his gratitude is immense that they were able to show up last minute when he was finally ready to celebrate. Magnus’ hand on his leg is hot against his skin through the pants he wears, and the mischief in his eyes twinkling a promise for tonight, and all Alec thinks to himself is that he couldn’t have asked for a more perfect birthday.

#Malec #Malec fanfiction #Alec Lightwood #Magnus Bane #alec x magnus #self-love #shadowhunters fanfiction #meant to write fluff #but whoops smut #alec lightwood in the bathroom with the aphrodisiac #bidness #bidnezz #read on ao3 #happy birthday alec

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rusty-guitar-strings · 5 years

Text

Sleep Schedule

or This Fic Switches from Fluff to Angst so Fast it Gave Me Whiplash and I’m the One Who Wrote It (Not Sponsored by Starbucks)

Summary: Someone can’t sleep. Two someones, actually, and neither of them want to do anything about it. They do want the other person to sleep though. How could this possibly be solved?

Logan has work to do. Remy has no work to do, but is staying up anyway, for some reason Logan can’t comprehend. Remy is hiding something. Logan intends to find out what.

Rating: G or T

Pairings: Losleep/Sleep Schedule (goin’ full RWBY on these ship names)

Word Count: 2,025

Warnings: cursing, playful arguing, two very slight sexual innuendos, use of an undesired name (not deadnaming but similar), crying, one mention of religion

Note: This was written on request/suggestion from @blinksinbewilderment. My first kind-of sort-of request. I do take them!! Anyway enjoy. Also I love Remy. (If you can find the nod to blink I crammed in there, you win a hat)

All-nighters were better when they weren’t ‘all-alone-nighters’ as Remy liked to call them. Luckily, Logan wasn’t currently dealing with loneliness. No, it was quite the opposite.

“Oi, Squid-nerd, check it.” Logan’s very important financing for props of an upcoming video was suddenly blocked by the Sleep aspect’s phone, which contained a meme of some sort. He squinted wearily and adjusted his glasses, leaning in to get a closer look. It appeared to be Winnie the Pooh (what was a ‘pooh’ anyway?) effectively mimicking Logan’s current expression. The top mentioned something about someone’s mom looking at memes, and it was all he could do not to sputter.

“That is not nearly as amusing as you seem to find it, Remigius, and it doesn’t- it’s not even accurate, I can’t- I’m not your mother, that’s impossible- stop laughing-“

Remy was rolling on the floor now, knees to his chest, absolutely weeping with laughter. He got far too giggly when he was sleep deprived, in addition to the sass, and it was as frustrating as it was endearing. “I can’t believe that worked! Girl, you are too much!” He shrieked and wiped his face, chest seizing with giggles.

“How do you expect anyone else to be asleep with all this pandemonium?” Logan couldn’t quite hide all the fondness from his voice. “Aren’t you supposed to be monitoring Thomas’ dream activity, anyhow?”

“Boring business,” the diva wheezed, waving Logan off dismissively. “Same old stuff, weird self-inserts he won’t even remember when he wakes up.”

“Remigi-“

“Remy.”

“Yes, fine, Remy. Your job is important, you should be taking every aspect of it seriously.” Logan lifted an eyebrow at him, managing to pull a serious enough expression for how late at night it was.

The figment in question was sitting up in the blink of an eye, grinning smugly. His shades obscured his eyes for the moment, but Logan knew they were gleaming with mischief.

“Ha. You said ‘Spec.’”

“Really? That’s what you went with?”

“The best jokes are unanticipated and take time to understand,” he stated matter-of-factly, in an infuriatingly accurate impression of Logic himself.

“You shut your mouth, sir.” Logan shoved a hand in Remy’s face in a feeble attempt to get him to stop.

Instead, he took Logan’s hand and, making eye contact over his shades for a split second, pressed a gentle kiss to the back of the side’s knuckles. “Like this?” He purred, lips curling into his usual smirk.

“That’s acceptable, yes.” Logan, determined not to be deterred from his signature stoic state, took back possession of his hand and patted Remy twice on the head before returning to his laptop. He bit the inside of his lip to avoid smiling at Remy’s obvious deflation. He continued his budgeting uninterrupted for a few blissful moments.

“Hey L, I have a proper- poorpro- a propsit-“

“Proposition?”

“Yes, a that. I have one of those for you.” Remy stared up at him through his shades, now kneeling next to Logan’s swivel chair. His arms were folded on one arm rest and he had his chin on them, successfully equating him to the puppies that Roman summoned so often.

“All right, Remig- Remy, what is it?”

“Get your ass in bed and go the fuck to sleep.”

“Profanity does not make one more appealing.” Logan didn’t stop typing. “And you should also be sleeping.”

“I don’t need sleep, honey, I am Sleep.” Remy stuck his tongue out teasingly.

“Falsehoods are not a good look on you, sweetie,” Logan deadpanned. Remy fell backward with a gasp.

“Who are you and what have you done with my Logan?” He demanded. At the end of his accusatory point, the side in question tried not to preen at the (admittedly over-dramatic) reaction to his outburst.

“I am still present.”

“Good. Go to sleep.”

“Why?” Logan waited patiently for his desired statement.

“Because you need it.”

That wasn’t quite it, so he tried again. “And why is that?” He asked evenly, adding Roman’s desperately important party poppers to the budget and scrawling a sticky note reminder to warn Virgil of the prince’s plans. The last thing they needed in a lighthearted video was an attack from him. Or on him. Logan added another sticky note directing future Logan to further explore Virgil’s role as anxiety, if he was the cause or effect, or if he could be both. He almost missed what Remy said, which would have been a disaster.

“Because sleep is important, Dumbo!”

“Ah ha!” Logan whirled in his chair triumphantly, the tip of his pen pointing directly at the figment’s nose. “So we are in agreement, then.”

Remy blinked in bewilderment. “What?”

“We both agree that you-“

“Stoppin’ ya right there, babes.” He waved a hand and conjured green tea in a Starbucks cup (not sponsored), a peculiar ability of his that Logan had yet to discover the reasoning behind. “I didn’t say nothin’ like that.”

“Why are you using double negatives? That is a disgusting misuse of the English language.” Logan, a certified nerd, gave Remy the dreaded Stare of Disappointment™️. Everyone in the Mindscape trembled in their figurative boots. But they were also asleep, so… figurative dream boots. Unless they weren’t wearing boots. They trembled in their figurative dream boots-or-other-footwear. Logan almost missed what Remy was saying for the third consecutive time.

“English is already disgusting, she doesn’t need my help.” He waved a hand. “End scene. Go to bed.”

“Roman appears to be rubbing off on you.” The creative side was the one to originate the habit of saying ‘end scene’ when he wanted to drop a conversation, and lately had begun to use it more and more seriously.

“Bitch, what did I say?” He pointed sternly at the bed, sitting with his legs crossed in the floor like toddler.

Logan tilted his chin upward defiantly. “Only if you sleep with me.” He was promptly hit in the face with a pillow.

“Ew! Nasty! No ma’am! Not in my good Christian household!” A multitude of other objects were thrown at him, luckily light and mostly harmless.

“Remigius, please- Remy! Let me rephrase, I did not intend to imply that we would, ah-“ he cleared his throat. “-have intercourse. If I am going to sleep, I want you to as well. Nothing more.” Logan adjusted his glasses awkwardly.

“Oh. Well, in that case, you’ve got a deal.” Remy looked around at the mess he’d made. “This looks like a problem for future me. I’m gonna get changed, see ya in a bit, boo.” He stood, winking. “Unless you want to join me.”

“No. I can change quite well on my own, thank you.” In a split second, Logan was wearing a science pun t-shirt (courtesy of Patton) and constellation pajama pants, and was idly removing his glasses to place them on his nightstand. He smirked to himself as Remy disappeared into the closet, complaining under his breath about how unfair his powers were and the fact that he had to change by hand.

About ten minutes later, Remy was in a tank top and shorts and his sunglasses still, lying next to Logan in bed and scrolling through his phone idly while the other attempted to sleep.

“Remy,” Logan whispered after a moment, harsh and sudden enough to make the figment jump and drop his phone. “Go to sleep.”

“Not until you do, wise guy.” He immediately regained a cool composure and reached for his device carefully.

“Are you always this hard-headed?” Logan sat up.

“Darling, have you met me?” Remy quirked an infuriatingly perfect eyebrow.

“Remigius-“

“Don’t call me that!” Sleep looked as stunned as Logan felt at his own outburst, then stiffened up and focused on his screen again instead. “Please.”

“Apologies. I wasn’t aware your proper name was a… sensitive… subject.” Logan rubbed one eye, staring downward. The other didn’t look up.

“It isn’t. I just don’t like how similar it is to… his.” He tapped his phone once with odd finality. “End scene.”

“I’m sorry, Remy, truly. I just believe that things should be called what they are, but I shouldn’t have applied that to-“

“End scene, Logan,” he persisted. “Please.” His voice broke a little, startling Logic, which was a rarity.

“Of course.” He fell silent and turned back to the blankets, rewinding the events in his mind and wondering what he’d done. It was unusual to see Sleep silent, still, and just… not causing general mischief. Where was the giggly figment he’d seen less than an hour ago? “Will you at least try and rest?”

“No rest for the wicked.” Remy smirked, typing something to someone, but it lacked the usual fire. “I meant what I said earlier. After you.”

“Remy…”

“It’s no biggie, Issac No-Fun. Go ahead and nod off, I’ll be here.”

“Rem-“

“I can hold down the fort, you know. My incredible humility prevents me from sharing my immense capability.”

“Remy. Look at me?”

“‘Course, I’d never complain about getting to- woah!” He jumped slightly when Logan took a light hold of his jaw, not daring to pull away.

“You mean that literally, don’t you?” Logan swallowed, all of his late nights or totally sleepless ones crashing back with a wave of a guilt to accompany them. “You are incapable of sleeping until everyone in the mind palace is no longer awake.”

Remy shrugged and opened his mouth, as if preparing a snarky comeback. Instead, what came out was, “It’s my job.”

Logan pushed Remy’s sunglasses up into his hair carefully, revealing dark, watery eyes shadowed by sleepless nights too numerous to count. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, “that you feel the need to use caffeine to stay awake.”

“I’m so goddamn tired, Logan,” the poorly named figment whispered, head falling forward to rest against Logan’s chest. “I can’t even take naps, it’s so fucking miserable…”

Logic softened, lifting his arms after a moment to wrap them around Remy. One hand cradled the back of his head as his body trembled against Logan’s and he let out a single, shuddering sob. “I know. We are- I am going to set a more steady sleep schedule. For all of us, including you. Would that be alright?”

Sleep nodded slightly against him, sitting up enough to try and rub his face. Logan lifted a tissue. “May I?” At another nod, he wiped Remy’s eyes, then handed it to him. “Blow. I will return with some water.” He pulled away slowly, then left the room after pausing to glance back.

Upon his return, Logan found Remy still sitting up smirking a little at something on his phone. He tried not to focus on how nice the figment’s eyes looked now that he could actually see them. He offered him the glass of water instead, then slid onto the bed next to him. “Drink at least half,” he advised.

Remy nodded, downed the water according to his orders, then wiped his mouth on the back of his arm. “Thanks, L.”

“No need. Lie back.”

“Dominant, are we?”

“Remy, lie back before I push you.”

“Okay, okay, I’m doing it. No need to get your tie in a twist.” He shifted to lay on his side, eyes still a bit teary. Logan reached out a hand to wipe them away gently. The tears. Remy’s eyes remained stationary. He tugged Remy’s shades from his hair and placed them on the nightstand next to his own glasses.

“Good. Relax, I am going to sleep so that you can. Please take advantage of it.”

“I will.”

“Good.” Logan closed his eyes, lying down as well. He scooted a bit closer to Remy to wrap an arm over him from behind, no matter how it made his skin burn with heat. No one else was around to see.

“Night, babe,” Remy whispered, and that was the last thing Logan heard until morning.

The next day, the two would share knowing glances while going about their daily tasks. Logan would present his sleep schedule, Remy would deny everything that happened the previous night, and then eventually he would confess the nature of his powers. He would receive shock and some concern, and everyone would abide to Logan’s plan. And everything would be fine.

Everything would be fine.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #remy sanders #losleep #angst #fluff #hc #author ari #im remy trash i cant stop writing him #send help #also logan is a delight #and i like roman and am gonna do him next #send requests pls

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promptbomb · 4 years

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Ink and Paint : Chapter 4

Pairing: Ryan Haywood x Reader Previous Chapters: One // Two // Three Word Count: 1,865 Prompt: You came to Los Santos to pursue a dream of becoming a tattoo artist. Things haven’t quite worked out as you planned and now you find yourself working a graveyard shift at Pandemonium Ink. Things are typically quiet, that is until one of the cities most infamous criminals come through the door.

A surge of adrenaline snaps you awake when you see Bruno’s name on your caller id. You ignore the cascade of papers that fall from the shifting of your blankets as you sit up, double-checking the time through a blurred gaze before you answer. You couldn’t possibly begin to guess why he’s calling you at nine in the morning but your instincts tell you that it’s probably not to deliver any good news. He all but confirms that when he tells you that you need to come in. Right now. And that the cops were there, asking questions.

Shit.

You scurry to make yourself look presentable and spring for a cab to get down there as quickly as possible, finding the street outside Pandemonium peppered with squad cars when you arrive. At the far end of the block, you see a couple of news trucks behind a guarded barricade while several officers stand outside the shop, talking to a few of the dayshift artists and their friends that typically hang around. Next door the dry cleaner is taped off and you see some detectives coming in and out, one of them talking casually to Phil who had no sense of a poker face in dealing with people interrupting his own flow of business.

It seemed your long-standing suspicions about the dry cleaner being involved in some sort of shady business were spot on and whatever evidence the cops had gathered in the last few days on stakeout had garnered enough warrant to bust in and do a search. Now the investigators were starting to take depositions from the locals and, since you were the only one that worked nights, they were extremely interested in what you may have seen or heard. Which, honestly, was a whole lot of nothing. Sure, you had seen a van pulled up to the back a few times, but outside color and size there wasn’t much else to recall.

They take down your information and ask you to stay even after they finish questioning you. All in all, it takes about two hours until you were finally released to go back home, armed now with a card that put you in direct contact with one of the lead investigators should you remember anything else. Phil reimburses you for the cab fare and even pays for your ride home, telling you to try and rest up before you have to work that evening. Right, like you were going to be able to sleep after all that. On the way home though you being to think about how lucky Ryan was that the cops didn’t notice him last night. His pedestrian look seemed to be well tested.

But he was supposed to come back tonight to start his tattoo.

You begin to chew on your bottom lip, your gaze turning to look out at the city skyline hazed in afternoon heat. With all the cops swarming the area maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for him to come. It probably wouldn’t be as bad during the evening but there’s no doubt that the area was going to be heavily patrolled just in case. You did have his number and he did say to call only if it was important. Keeping him from potentially being busted seemed important enough. Still, calling to warn him about the cops, if he didn’t think you knew who he was before that would certainly reveal just that. You begin to weigh which might be more dangerous; having the Vagabond know that you know who he is or knowingly letting him walk into a police heavy area.

Screw it.

When you arrive home you flipped through your sketchbook, finding his scrawled number and giving him a call. You’re not the least bit surprised when you’re met with the standard answering message. This was probably some protective line, used for business and nothing more. “Hey...Ryan. Uh, listen. I know you told me not to call unless it was important but...well I think you should stay clear of Pandemonium for a while. The place next door got busted for drugs or something and the entire block has been crawling with cops all day. I just think...you know...it might be safer for you not to come tonight. We can reschedule your tattoo when things clear up. Ok? Right. Ok. Bye.” Your cheeks begin to flush with heat as you end the call, mentally replaying your words over and over again.

You keep your phone handy though, expecting him to call or text some sort of reply. In the meantime, since you’re resigned to staying up, you begin to further your own investigation into the Vagabond of Los Santos. There’s a plentiful amount of information about the Fake AH Crew online in way of news reports. Robbery, illegal gambling and street racings, prison breaks, even petty crimes such as shoplifting or vandalism. They were dangerous, there was no doubt about that, but it was more like a lot of jackassery then the criminal masterminds the media made them out to be. An hour passes before you look at your phone, making sure you hadn't missed a call or text while watching some amateur video of the Crew leader pissing on a cop car before one of the other boys tossed a grenade into its open window. No reply as of yet.

You take a nap and check your phone again when you wake up. Still nothing. A seed of anxiety begins to take root as your day plays out quietly with no response from the Vagabond. By the time you make it into work, your stomach had worked itself into a knot. Just as you had expected, sitting right outside of Pandemonium, a pair of police officers nod to you from their patrol car as you enter the shop. You touch base with Bruno, who spends a solid five minutes complaining about how dead the shop had been thanks in part to the police presence outside and how Phil thought it might carry on for a few days. The old man was too salty to close up though and Bruno wished you luck on staving off boredom as he left for the evening. As soon as he’s out the door you fish your phone from your pocket and check for any notifications.

Nothing.

The night continues on. You anxiously watch the door, your mind working a thousand miles a minute, constructing a dozen different scenarios. What if he hadn’t got the message? If he were to walk up and see the patrol car would he think you were trying to set him up? You recall that first evening you had met the Vagabond, how cold his eyes had been, the aura of danger that had exuded from him. A shiver trails down your spine and you close your eyes for a moment, holding a breath before exhaling gently. You had done the right thing and, as the night crawled to a close it came without incident and without Ryan making an appearance. You feel a sense of relief thinking that, if anything, at least he received and heeded your message.

You check your phone once more before going to bed and again when you first wake up. Still nothing. The lack of response almost seems to haunt your morning routine as you occasionally shoot a glance towards your silent phone while brushing your teeth. You nearly drop your coffee cup when it chimes suddenly, sending you into a scramble to fumble with the lock screen only to see a message from Ruth asking if you were free to pick up an afternoon shift today. Your head suddenly feels like it weighs fifty pounds as it hangs low and you can’t help but chuckle. This was ridiculous. You needed to get your mind on something else and dealing with a hungry crowd at lunch was just the thing to give you a little reprieve.

Ruth is already in the middle of prepping when you arrive and after a short exchange of friendly banter, you take charge at the register just as the first customer walks up. The first thing you notice about the woman on the other side of the counter is that she seems incredibly out of place from the typical scene that usually patronizes Ruth’s eatery. Sleek auburn hair framed a pretty face half concealed by a pair of what you could only guess were high end, name brand sunglasses. Her black suit was fitted and was something you would have guessed would have been on display in a Ponsonbys’ storefront on Portola Drive, a far cry from the beach bums that usually sauntered up for a hot ham and cheese. “Hi!” You greet her in full customer service mode, ticket book in hand. “Welcome to Ruth’s. What can I get you?”

“I’ll take an iced tea.” Her reply comes with a surprisingly friendly tone, not what you would have expected from someone looking so posh, and the warmth of her smile makes you almost feel guilty for having assumed otherwise. You service her drink and she pays with a twenty, dunking the change into the tip jar without a second thought before thanking you and moving to sit at one of the far tables, the tip of the straw disappearing between the pucker of her ruby red lips. You wonder briefly if maybe she was meeting someone here; local property was always being snatched up for regentrification and she seemed to be the type of person flushed with cash and ready to invest. As the lunch rush begins to kick up you loose focus on the woman and fall into the grind, it only when things slow down and Ruth asks you to bust the tables that you notice she’s still there.

Well, if she was waiting for someone they had yet to show, but, whether it was paranoia or your own active imagination, you feel as if she had been here watching you the entire time. You decide to slake your curiosity by approaching her, armed only with your customer service smile. “Is there anything else I can get for you today? Maybe a refill?” You motion to her empty cup which had begun pooling at the base from condensation.

“Oh no, I’m ok.” She seems to pause for a moment and extends a finger to idly flick the tip of her straw. “Actually, I wonder if you and I could have a brief conversation.” You blink, the enigma of this woman becoming more and more complex. When you fail to respond she offers you a laugh and tilts her head just enough so that she can peer at you over the frame of her sunglasses. “You and I have a mutual friend.”

“We do?” You quirk a brow, mentally going through the shortlist of people you knew in the city well enough to call a friend.

Your bewilderment pulls her smile further across her face, almost endearingly, and she reaches to take hold of your hand to give it a firm shake. “My name is Lindsay Jones, I’m a member of the Fakes.”

#ryan haywood x reader #fake ah crew #achievement hunter ff

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carlatsukinamistolemyhamsandwich · 5 years

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DL Soulmate AU Headcanons-Carla Tsukinami

For some reason this post took me forever to finish but it’s finally done OTL

Setup: Set in a universe where everyone has a soulmate and there are various different connections between soulmates. Vampires (and Founders) have been known to have human soulmates. Generally the connection between a vampire/founder and their soulmate will not kick in until their soulmate is born and will fade after their soulmate dies. It considered unusual for a vampire to meet, let alone be with, their human soulmate. For these headcanons, you’re in the same position as Yui. You get sent to the Sakamakis as a sacrificial bride and you have some special property that makes you valuable to the Tsukinamis too (whether you want to imagine that you’ve got Cordelia’s heart or some other reason you can come up with is up to you).

Carla Connection with soulmate: your soulmate’s name is tattooed on your wrist. - You were born with the name 月浪カルラ inked on your wrist. As a young child you didn’t understand the meaning behind the markings, until your parents explained that it was your connection to your soulmate, only it was written in another language. After a little research, you learned that the name was written in Japanese and it translated to Carla Tsukinami.

- It didn’t take long for you to realize it was a rather unusual name and as soon as you became aware of the world of social media, you started searching for your soulmate. However no matter how much you tried, you could find neither hide nor hair of them, an oddity in the modern digital age. Although frustrated, you didn’t give up and decided to study Japanese, pleased at even the slightest bit closer it might bring you to your other half.

- When you were offered an opportunity to stay in Japan as part of your studies, you immediately accepted, positive that you would encounter your soulmate while you were there.

- What you certainly weren’t expecting, however, was for your accommodation to be the home of six sadistic vampires. Your phone was destroyed in the first few hours of your stay and, no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t contact anyone from back home. Suddenly, it seemed much more likely that you would meet only a tragic fate here, rather than your soulmate. After all, your captors were vampires, it wasn’t like your soulmate could do much to help you even if you managed to find them.

- While the founders were still trapped in Pandemonium, Carla awoke one day to find a name scrawled on his wrist. He knew what it was instantly but there were no new founders, his race was dying out, which meant it could only belong to a member of one of the sub-races or, worse still, a human. For a heart-breaking moment he’d stared at that name, the characters a dark stain on his pale skin. But it was ultimately of no consequence. Even if he weren’t trapped within the very castle he’d been raised in, for a founder in his position to fraternize with a member of a lower race was shameful. And with his father on his death bed, Carla would soon become king. Just as he had done so many times before, he locked whatever feelings that name may have evoked deep inside himself. They would serve no useful purpose and were therefore meaningless.

- And then Giesbach passed, and Carla was left with the miserable reality that his once proud race had been reduced to only himself and his younger brother. But soon after his father’s death, Carla discovered that they may be able to break the seal that had kept them trapped for hundreds of years on the night of the upcoming lunar eclipse.

- Once free, while Shin longed for revenge against Karl Heinz, Carla knew that their first priority had to be strengthening their bloodline. It did not take long to learn of a certain human woman who possessed founder blood and had been sent to live with the sons of the vampire king.

- By the time the night of the lunar eclipse arrived, you’d been with the Sakamaki brothers for months and it had taken its toll on you. You’d taken to staying at school for as many hours as you possibly could, for while you weren’t exactly safe, it still felt better than drifting through the large, cold mansion. It was when you were studying in the library that you saw him; a tall pale man with long white hair and the most incredible gold eyes. You couldn’t say what compelled you to approach him, but you did and when he introduced himself you felt your heart stop dead.

Carla Tsukinami, your soulmate, was standing right in front of you. There were so many thoughts running through your head that you didn’t know where to start. He sniffed the air and frowned, as though he’d detected some foulness in the air.

“The scent of those vampires is even worse than I’d suspected. Your blood is of no use in this state.”

Blood? Vampires? You froze. It couldn’t be. The soulmate you’d spent all these years dreaming of couldn’t be another one of the creatures who had left your body covered in scars. Then he lowered his scarf, and you caught sight of the wicked fangs in his mouth.

- You couldn’t believe it, and so you blindly accused Carla of being a vampire, desperate for him to deny it, to tell you that he was human, the same as you. But he didn’t, instead a cold rage filled his eyes and it made your blood turn to ice in your veins. Before you knew where you were, his cold hand was tight around your throat and he hissed into your ear that he was not a vampire, but something far greater and comparing him to one of those lowlifes was an insult. You struggled but his grip was firm and soon your consciousness faded.

- You awoke in a foreign, albeit nicely decorated room, with phantom hands still wrapped around your throat. Despair coiled around you like a snake, you’d met your soulmate and he’d turned out to be another one of the demons you’d been tormented by for months. He hadn’t even bothered to ask for your name. And as you clutched the bandage you’d used to try to keep his name concealed from the Sakamakis, you concluded you didn’t particularly want to tell him either.

- Purifying your blood was taking longer than Carla would like but, aside from your outburst in that first meeting, at least you were docile enough. It seemed your spirit had already been broken by the vampires, even if the thought of receiving their leftovers made Carla feel sick.

- One night, as he was removing the last remaining traces of filth from your blood, Carla caught sight of the bandage tightly wrapped around your wrist. He’d noticed it before, but humans were easily injured so it had seemed of little importance. It was only then, however, that he realized he’d never seen you without it. The name printed in the same place on his own wrist, hidden by his sleeve, began to burn. He froze.

“Your name.”

You only blinked up at him with a dazed expression, eyes struggling to focus.

“What is your name?” Carla repeated, the words coming out as something close to a growl.

This time they seemed to get through to you and the way you tensed underneath him was telling enough. In swift movement, he ripped the dressing from you and was met with his own name scrawled in inky black across your skin.

It changed both everything and nothing at the same time. His duties and goals were still the same, he still had to prioritize his position before any of his own feelings. And yet you were here, right in front of him, when he’d dismissed any chance that he’d ever meet you at all.

“You knew,” he breathed, cold fingers trailing along your neck. You flinched at the contact, the scent of your fear heavy in the air. Carla took hold of your chin and you were forced to gaze into his piercing golden eyes. “From now on, woman, you will deny me nothing. Never forget-” his other hand stroked over the skin of your wrist “-everything you are belonged to me since the day you were born.” Your vision swam as the blood loss ran its course and as darkness blanketed over you, the last thing you felt was a pair of cool lips against your own.

I’ve also done a set of these for Shin. If you want me to do these for any of the other characters then feel free to let me know ^^

#headcanons #soulmate AU #Carla Tsukinami #own post #I realise that Carla isn't strictly Japanese but the game is and some of the boys sign their names in Japanese soooo #artistic liberties #Thanks for reading #hope you enjoyed it :)#This is more of a cross between a drabble and headcanons than anything else but it just sort of happened

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omnomsauruswrites · 5 years

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Engaged

Pairing: Stucky x You

Summary: You were told to not engage unless necessary because you were in fact dead, or at least that’s what the death certificate said.

Inspiration: Not going to lie Mumford and Sons “Tompkins Square Park” was the original inspiration. Then I realized, I didn’t know where this could go and seemed a little too much like Agent 28 by @kentuckybarnes. I don’t know if there will be more of this or not.... But I can’t not, not let y’all read it, ya know?

You saw them dancing in the low lit ballroom. Two well-defined forms spun across the floor, surrounded by politicians, ambassadors, Avengers. You sighed. That used to be you in one of their arms to this bluesy jazz number.

But you weren’t there for them tonight. No, you were security detail. You were to blend into the scene, to the walls, in the crowd. They were not to know you were watching. Fury had warned you that you were to be a faceless attendee. “Do not engage unless needed.”

So you watched from afar, as the two super soldiers held hands, greeted guests, shook hands. Neither left the other’s side for more than a few minutes. A few times a pair of their eyes searched the crowd, but you always blended when their eyes went looking.

“They don’t know,” you were reminded by Fury. “You’re dead. Or at least that’s what the certificate says.”

You had nodded at that because hadn’t you asked for that? Hadn’t you gone to Fury looking for an out 18 months ago? He had asked if you were sure. You had been. You knew they’d be better off as a pair than a threesome with you. So you had let Fury send you on a mission, that left a body in a pinebox. You walked away. Well, sort of. You were now a nameless agent, again. Your face always erased from any tracker, any video.

“Why me?” you asked Fury before you left.

“You know them. Know the threat.”

“Hydra, always wants a soldier.”

“They want you.”

You had arched an eyebrow at him with the statement. “I’m dead.”

“Someone got a hold of the body.”

You nodded. Of course, someone had. Why would your death be easy to fake. “So back I go.”

“Stay to the shadows. It maybe nothing but an engagement party.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“I don’t.”

Your eyes went back to surveying. Everyone here had been vetted twice. You knew that. They knew that. Your head tilted to the redhead at the bar. Green eyes stared right at you. You took two steps back into the shadows, but the eyes never left you. That was until the commotion at the entrance. “I have an invite!” you heard a man yell tersely.

Your heels took you towards the scene, to the tall skinny man, trying to push his way past some guards. His jacket hung off his shoulders. He looked as if he hadn’t eaten in months. His face gaunt. You hung back, ‘don’t engage’ rung in your ears. That of course, was until you saw it. He was a diversion. While the skinny man diverted the guards, three other men appeared, all with tactile vests and machine guns.

You grabbed the gun from your thigh holster. “We’ve got a problem,” you said into comms.

“Who’s on this channel?” a voice responded.

“Yea…. no time to explain that one,” you replied. “Three Hydra agents at the entrance. I’d suggest to get the happy couple out of the building.”

“I don’t know who you are,” another voice piped in.

“Stark, for the love of god, shut up,” you chastised.

“Y/n?”

You ignored the exclamation and walked towards the three agents. “Can I see an invitation boys?” you asked.

That’s when all hell broke loose. Guns were drawn instantaneously. You didn’t blink. Three agents in front of you, you knew there would be more at the balcony. ‘Don’t ever leave an entrance open, котенок.’ The words haunted you, but you needed to focus. A bullet to one’s shoulder, the next one got one in the thigh, the last pointed the gun straight at you, as you turned, pulling the trigger and getting him in head.

By that point there was pandemonium, guests were screaming and scattering. Natasha had two agents on the ground. But the two super soldiers had blue eyes on you and didn’t notice the agent with the gun to Steve’s head. You raised your gun and shot the man. He crumbled to the floor. It pulled them out of their stupor, as their eyes left yours. ‘Do not engage.’ The statement rung in your head, as you surveyed the scene, seeing that it was maintained. The threat handled now by the Avengers. You slinked back and away.

It was as you gracefully made it to the exit, did you hear strong voices calling your name. But you slipped back into the shadows of the night.

The crimson water ran into the drain, as you sat in the tub. You had cleaned the graze, stitching it yourself. You tipped your head back, letting the water cascade down your front. You had almost been caught. Green and blue eyes had scene you. They knew. Your cover blown. Hydra and the Avengers now knew you were alive. That would lead to more questions and a bigger manhunt.

You knew Bucky and Steve. They wouldn’t marry now if they knew you were alive. The plan was always to have a commitment ceremony with the three of you. It had been discussed for the past two years, but you had never been able to commit to the plan. You laughed ruefully at the irony. Only one way to engage.

Steve rubbed his eyes, as he exited the bedroom. Daybreak filtered in through the windows, as he meandered to the kitchen. His light blue eyes landed on the kitchen table, filled with boxes of all sizes. “Bucky,” he called.

He heard a grumbling coming from the next room. “Bucky, wake up!”

The desperation in Steve’s voice caused Bucky to push off the sheets that clung to his body and make his way to the room his boyfriend occupied. “What is it, punk?” he asked, sleepily.

Steve grabbed his hand and Bucky looked at the sight that Steve had stumbled upon - Le Creuset boxes stacked on the mahogany table. They were topped with a silver bow and an envelope. Bucky’s grip on Steve’s hand tightened. “Cool Mint,” he recalled you saying once. He had teased you about knowing the specific color. “Of course, Buck, it’s my favorite shade of green.” The conversation had digressed from their about knowing shades of colors. You had repeated you had an artistic mind, of course, you knew shades.

The two stared at the envelope that was blank, but stuffed with paper.

“My do you want those, doll?” Bucky had asked.

“Because every woman wants Le Creuset, Buck. Plus, they last like forever, like you. So when I’m long gone, you’ll still have a part of me with these pots.”

Bucky’s heart clenched at the memory. His mind going back to the night before. Your blue sequined dress, the way you held the gun, the way you moved. It was fluid, effortless. It was you. But you were dead, they had buried you, hadn’t they? Maybe…..

Steve reached out for the envelope, as he held on to Bucky’s metal hand. He opened it, pulling out two sheets of paper. One, a risotto recipe. Steve had asked what you’d cook in the pots. “Risotto. Stew.” You had held both of their hands, as you listed what you’d make. Steve felt the tears gather on his lashes.

He unfolded the papers. The first a risotto recipe. He gasped. It was your recipe, scrawled in your handwriting, from your notebook. A notebook that had gone missing. He shuffled the papers. His eyes went over the words, the penmanship. It was Johnny Cash’s birthday letter to June Cash, the one you had shown both the boys in the early days of your courtship.

Happy Birthday Princess, We get old and get use to each other. We think alike. We read each others minds. We know what the other wants without asking. Sometimes we irritate each other a little bit. Maybe sometimes take each other for granted. But once in awhile, like today, I meditate on it and realize how lucky I am to share my life with the greatest woman I ever met. You still fascinate and inspire me.You influence me for the better. You're the object of my desire, the #1 Earthly reason for my existence. I love you very much. Happy Birthday Princess. John

It’s something that Bucky and Steve could relate to as their relationship spanned the years. However, since you entered the fray, it seemed to align with you, too. You were their missing piece. You grounded both of them. Your spirit and drive fascinated them. There wasn’t a problem you couldn’t solve whether with a fist or with a pen. And they had always told you that.

So why, why had you run? It puzzled both of them. It was the question hanging, as the air cleared and the Hydra agents fell to the ground. They had seen you slip away, as they had called out to you. You hadn’t even looked back. It reminded both of them of a saying you had, ‘Never engage the enemy.’ It gave them pause.

The pair of blue eyes read and reread the letter. Bucky’s flesh hand clenched at his side, as Steve’s left hand tremorred. “She’s alive,” Steve whispered out.

Bucky’s words caught in his throat. His eyes went from the letter to the boxes. They had never changed the locks. Never felt the need in the 18 months because you were gone. He swallowed the thickness away. “We’ll find her, Steve.”

That was a promise he’d keep until the end of the line.

@scuzmunkie @littleravenwrites @cari105 @soldierplum @muggleluna @valkyrieofsmut @youreahandsomedevil @coal000 @xxashy999xx @wishingforahome @winchesterswantmypie @buckybearbabe98

#stucky #stucky x you #stucky x reader #stucky x y/n #steve rogers x bucky barnes x you #steve x bucky x reader #steve x bucky x you #stucky angst

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ombreecha · 5 years

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The Uchiha’s Wife

FF.NET Fandom: Naruto Pairing: SasuSaku Rating: M Summary: She was an otherworldly being of healing. An absolute nymph of spring. He was an otherworldly being of destruction. An absolute god of war. In a world where war makes him death, and chaos she will be the life, and love his people will talk of for years to come. AU x Warring States Period.

Author Note: Ayyyyye, dooooooooooope I'm still alive. Somehow? My dudes I'm officially 27 today haha and so with this birthday I present to you chapter 19. I've been up to my eyeballs in foam, glue, and more with Katsucon being next week. I wasn't about to not keep my word though, and so here we are. I get to dip my feet deeper into ol' maidhood, and you get new content.

Anyways. . .Man I'm gonna eat some motherfuckin tiramisu to celebrate when I get back from Katsucon and it's gonna be fuckin great #inserttonythetigerhere

Until then, please get some cake or whatever the fuck ya'll like. I love celebrating with you guys even if I can't IRL until after my shoots. Fanfiction is a pretty sweet way to celebrate yisssss.

Chapter 19 The Pandemonium

Exhausted and worn she’s fallen with her hands digging within the earth. Those scarlet locks the only thing vibrant in this state. It’s those strands that keep him connected to the present.

The oxygen she’s taking in makes it perfectly clear how much this task has drained her. The nine tails is no longer bound by the Uzumaki. They’ve seized him and taken control.   Words linger upon his tongue never entering the air even as he watches Obito reach down and grip a hold of her arm. After everything she’s done to remove the tailed beast they’re still not done with her. There’s a part of him that feels the need to stop this—there’s something eating away at him as he watches this.  

This feels wrong, but this is what Madara demands.  All of this feels like it’s too much.  What they’re doing right now—could you possibly say this was right?

Was this what their ideals had turned into? Had they become as cruel as the Senju and Uzumaki who had painted their love in the blood of others?

Were they truly any different? Were they not one and the same using such methods?

“You know what you have to do.”

He doesn’t need to be reminded of what’s expected from him. He remembers the words scrawled upon the scroll. He knows what his part in this is. Yet, it doesn’t lessen the way this continues to dig further and further upon his moral compass.

Hesitant. Unsure. He’s of two minds. Yet, he gives that nod of his head.

The way this man drags off his teammate has him wanting to reach out—to yell for him to stop.

To extend his hand and take a hold of her. Protect her. To save her.

He won’t. He can’t. To do so would be to go against what Madara has already put into motion. The way their treating her—she’s no more than a tool.

She was a person. She held a heart. She held a purpose beyond that of a tool. She was no different from him or them.

She had a worth beyond this plan.

“Sasuke! Help me!” her hand flies out as if to reach for him before being yanked without care.

As if she is nothing more than an object.

She’s never dared to say his name without a horrific attached. No apology he gives will ever be enough for what he’s allowing them to do—for allowing this person who had stood beside him unwavering and all on her own to be used so maliciously.

And now against her own will.

The scream she produces and the desperation that echos with the night haunts him. It twists him in uncomfortable ways. Refusing to lift a finger as she tries in vain to stay only makes this feel even more disgusting—more sickening.

He can do nothing. He is not the leader of their clan. He is just an heir meant to inherit the throne.

That’s how he’ll battle the guilt—the wrongfulness of his part in this. He’ll cling to the fact he’s not in control.

Inhaling deeply and removing his eyes from her only increases the disgust before he casts his eyes upon the male who can no longer defend himself.

Step after step—each one slow and careful. Naruto Uzumaki is no longer a threat. He’s on the verge death after having lost the nine tailed beast. Madara had gotten what he had wanted. Obito had succeeded and now all that’s left was to finally be rid of the blonde.  Yes.

Madara demands this. He orders it. He will follow his leader down this road.

He’ll further dirty his already scuffed moral compass. He’ll ignore the increasing cracks that form upon it. He’ll ignore the voices screaming within his head.   

It’s bittersweet as he watches the weak rise and fall of his chest. He’s known this boy since he could remember. Their mothers had been close friends—a war separated them but they defied refusing to lessen their bond. It was overlooked and it was ignored all because she was a direct heir.  

Whispers had filled the funeral when she had passed. —they had mocked and made claims no child should hear.  If she hadn’t been friends with that Uzumaki maybe she’d have lived. 

Maybe she wouldn’t have left her children behind.

Traitor.  

His tongue slides against the roof of his mouth. The resentment from that time has lessened over the years. It has become a dull ache.

This boy hadn’t harmed his mother—no, she just happened to be on her way home from visiting them when she was murdered in the name of war. Senju and Uzumaki were one and the same to him. They stole his mother from him, and robbed him equally of his father. The days where they played in their garden were nothing now.   

Could you have called them friends?  Naruto had chosen the Senju, and he had chosen the Uchiha.  They knew nothing of each other now outside of the battlefield. 

No. They were never friends. Their mothers were, but they, they, were never friends.  

What would his mother say if she saw him preparing to kill her bestfriend’s son?   His throat constricts at the thought. He loved his mother far more than that. He would do whatever it took to avenge her.  He feels lost in time—if he waited here forever would this feeling die?  Would this sudden fear that his mother will forsake him disappear?   He won’t cry if he kills this boy his mother had doted on as a child.

He won’t regret this.

 They had tried to kill each other plenty of times before this— Never had they been so close.

  This is different. This situation is real. He’s going to kill this man—he’s going to kill Naruto Uzumaki. He’s going to kill someone his mother had cherished.  She’d understand. She’d know he was doing what was right by her brother’s decree. There would be no shame upon her face for doing what he needed to in times of war. Fingers curl around the hilt of his sword and as it clicks from its hold it’s slide is slow and steady. That floral pendent his wife had given him swaying equally as slow with such movements.   

“Sasuke-kun! Stop!”

  Freezing he can’t help but follow the call of her voice—how? How had she found him deep within the chaos? The grip upon his sword becomes loose as he takes her in. She’s out of breath and followed behind.

Seeing someone so close to her makes his grip tighten once more until he can clearly see who is with her—this man had made it clear he adored his wife during the festival.

  “This is war Sakura.”   

Can she see how conflicted he is in this moment? Can she see how much it’s twisting him to know he’s going to kill someone so precious to his mother?  Can she see the way his moral compass is spinning erratically?

Does she see the disgust brewing inside for himself? Does she know he’s dying inside?  

Those even steps are there and there’s no missing the wounds she’s suffered on the battlefield. They’re not serious. They’re not fatal—but there is blood, and discoloration upon her skin and that’s terrifying enough.

It’s around her throat, and so many other places.

But as terrifying as that is there is something far more frightening in this moment that he’s clinging to. Is this where her love came to a halt?

She’s stopping him. She’s keeping him from slaying the enemy. They knew each other. Naruto had said it right before her dance. He hadn’t asked. He hadn’t meddled and now it’s clear he should have.   Had they always been close even before she became his wife? Was he also cherished by her as well?

Naruto had gained his mother’s affection and now he would take Sakura’s from him just the same.

This. This is what hurts. This is what makes him question what he’s done to deserve his enemy taking everything from him. All of this—everything he’s ever lost—was thanks to the Senju and Uzumaki.

He loathes himself or being so weak. For playing into such thoughts—but how could he not?

He had reached out for her when he had known better. He had known not to give her any part of him. He had—he had given in to her. He had fallen for the anguish he had put her through. He had been desperate to fix all the cruel things he had done to this woman he had finally begun to see as his wife.

He rightfully deserved such things—yet the self pity in him refuses to accept that. He had lost so much already and the world was continuing to take everything from him.

He hates this blonde. Because projecting his self hatred onto him is easier to accept.

Fingers tighten around the hilt only to loosen a moment later. He wants to scream at her—she’s the one being cruel now.

How can she stand with them when she said she supported him? She’s not with him—she’s betraying him.

She is the one who’s cruel for coming into his world and lowering his guard. She’s the one who had made claims she wasn’t intending to keep in this moment.

She is the one he had desired to go further down the road of life with and now they were diverging.

He’ll loathe her too instead of overcoming his own faults—his own disgust for what he’s willingly becoming.

If it wasn’t for her he wouldn’t feel like this.

His mouth has gone dry as he tries to keep himself composed. She’s ruined him. She has completely destroyed it all. He wants to take back everything he’s ever tried to do and every attempt he had made to understand her better. He wants to take back believing she had become an Uchiha.

—as if it had been her birthright. As if she had loved him deeply.

He had never asked for a wife. He had never asked for any of this. All of it had been decided for him.

He wasn’t given a choice in any of this. Yet, he had been the one to let her in.

He wasn’t good enough for her. He wasn’t good enough for her to put him before the enemy.

The tightening of his jaw slackens and then the control he always seems to have in place breaks in two. There’s no way to stop the way his eyes flutter and the way his mouth quivers alongside his heart that drops so painfully within his being. His eyes descend from her to the dirt below only to clamp down in an effort to keep himself together.

“S-Sasuke-kun?”

Teeth dig painfully into his bottom lip as she speaks—she sounds as if she’s panicking. She has no reason to be panicking. She’s not the one being betrayed. She’s not the one being cast aside—he’s not the one abandoning her.

It’s just her pushing him away for the family that came before him.

He had wanted a family with her—he had wanted her to be he one that brought a new life into his world.

He had wanted her.

His eyes snap open and it’s here and now that he realizes he has to stop her. He had done what his leader had told him not to—there’s was no guarantee she wasn’t carrying his heir.

He would not have her rip more from him.

Hands shake. Palms sweaty. Eyes burning. Sword raised high.

She had dug her roots deep—she had squeezed through iron and pushed through stone.

He would cut them down. He had said he would not gaze upon her with these eyes so many feared.

He had been wrong.

He can barely hold his sword still—his heart is loud and the trepidation it sends throughout his body only seeks to send his mind further into the confusion and loathing that’s painted within him.

“You don’t have to do this! Sasuke-kun, please!”

That’s all she has to say to dislodge his voice from the bottom of his throat—it’s filled with petulance soaked in disquietude, “Shut up!”

The way she shrinks back before him sends his heart aching before him, “Not another word—not from you!”

“S-Sasuke-kun—This isn’t war! This is a slaughter.”

He’s seen this look upon her face before. He saw it when he murdered that medic so long ago. He saw it upon that woman’s face when she begged him to give mercy. She’s covered in terror as if he’s already run her through—

He can’t take her back—not when she’ll betray him again. If he can’t have her he’ll be damned if the Senju will.

Can she see how he’s vacillating as she protects Naruto? Can she see how much her choices have completely twisted his world?

Does she know how much he’s dying inside?

He won’t cry if he kills her. He’ll rebuild what she’s dug her roots into. Their ideals had truly been far too different—

He’ll burn everything down.

His spring wife is daring a step closer and those fingers that had brought him comfort within their two years are raising. She’s stopped all at once with a hand on her wrist.

Yes. He’ll burn it down to the ground.

“This isn’t her betraying you.” there’s an exhaustion in those words as that male he had trusted in Konohagakure to keep his wife safe restricts her from coming closer.   

Here she is against him—not with him. Yet, this man claims otherwise.  

He is a criminal without a crime. His good fortune had run out this time. There’s always a reason. There’s not always a rhyme to follow behind it. Those eyes of hers are glowing and just as equally those viridian are showing all that she intends.

She stands before him unable to compromise. That much is clear.

When he was already so hesitant and so lost in the direction his leader was taking them she does this to him. She sends him over the edge, and she casts him aside. Why should he care if the Uchiha are no better than the Senju?

Why should he care?  “Sasuke-kun.”  

He’s not crying. He won’t do so in front of her again.

  Those shallow breaths, and those twitches that come from her muscles. Tense cannot even begin to describe this moment between them. He’s out of time. He must make a choice, he must follow a faith, and he must cast this ache aside and move forward. Not once has she ever stood before him quiet like this, “Sasuke-kun!”   

No he’s certainly not crying.  But he is most definitely dying.   

He’s absolutely running out of time. He’s lost in time and he’s certain this ache will never die. He’s truly a criminal.  —and he holds all of their crimes. He is the one meant to be the example. He is the one meant to show his people where to go.

He’s choosing his leader. He’s choosing what he knows is wrong.

He’ll choose anything that’ll hurt her the way she’s hurting him right now.  

She’s never turned against him. She’s never been one to lie. That look upon her face—the tightening of her jaw, and that gaze that bleeds through the night—she’s always been honest and she’s always held her heart upon her sleeve.

It’s the joining of two people. A union. A marriage.  

He can question it all, and yet he knows he won’t find the answer of how they now stare back at each other at odds. This woman was his wife, and the one he meant to keep beside him. This woman was one he had allowed himself to trust, and the one he had wanted to bring new life into the world.

  This woman.  He trusts her.  That’s what makes this bittersweet.

  She loves him.   Deeply.  She asked for his love to be just as deep.

  He had agreed and allowed himself to feel such a way when he decided that the Uchiha clan was just as much her birthright. 

He had trusted her. He had felt so much pride in her.

If I could bring all of that pain you hide onto myself I would do so.

He knows this battle is wrong—he knows it’s exactly what she says. This is a slaughter. There’s no denying the claim. This was no longer war. This blood bath while great and one of the largest was no battle. She was here to rein him in. She was here to make sure he didn’t falter and head down the wrong path. She was the voice that would lead him back from the chaos.

She was the voice inside his head as Karin was dragged from him.

Could he kill her? Could he kill what he had allowed her to obtain? Could he close her out as he had when they first met?

To anger and fight Madara would be to go against the Uchiha. Could he go against his leader? Could he go against his family? 

Isn’t that what he is expecting of her?

 A shift of his foot and the fall of his crimson from her viridian comes. He doesn’t know what the answer is. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to pick.

Would following her down this unknown road be the right choice? Would he regret not killing Naruto down the line? Would he forever harbor feelings of distrust because of what she’s doing now?

Why do you continue to follow blindly at his call?

His hand wavers and with it his sword scrapes the earth. He’s at the end of the line. Alone in his head—waiting for something divine to answer him. Drowning in silence he prays to make it through. Out on the edge as all these things echo internally.

The storm winds are blowing. His dreams are falling apart. Just like her.

He’s crying internally. Because he cannot do this—he cannot harden himself to do what he has to.

That concept of him and her. It’s blowing away.

And he hates himself for it—he places such hate upon her to make it easier to live with.

  It’s that lack of time that seeks to make it clear he’s lowered himself upon the battlefield. It’s that pounding of his chest and that pain deep within his gut. This man. This Senju always catches him when he’s bewitched, and it just proves she would be his end.   

It’s her voice that makes his eyes force themselves open as the contents of his stomach cover the grown and upon his person. The gravel and stone he had set to walk upon with her has given him padding but scratched all that it could touch—  he’s here.   

The force is harsh and enough to send his head back and mind reeling. That punch has made his mind halt to two simple questions—what was he doing here, and was this ever even truly a war?

  It’s the collapse of waves echoing out internally.  Why does his heart feel like it’ll break further than just in two?  

“Kisetsuma-san!”

  He cannot control the roll of his head and that blur of his eyes. She’ll leave him and there’s nothing he can do. She’ll return to this man who sought her out so violently.   He can’t protect her—he can’t protect any of them.  

“It’s okay.” there’s so much warmth in Kisetsuma’s words for his wife, “We’ll take you back here and now. I’ll protect you from him.”  

He feels it deep within—  

“Kisetsuma-san, what are you—?”

  “I won’t let the Uchiha hold you any longer. You will no longer be a prisoner of war.”   

This exchange.   It’s the death of a desire—

  The vexation. The distress. The exasperation. The absolute loss.

 It’s her choice. It’s always been her choice.  

She could hate him. She said she loved him.  She’s slipping through his fingers. This man will take her even though they—

  “Kisetsuma I am not a prisoner—”

  “What lies have they been feeding you all this time? These Uchiha—they’ve done everything they can to turn you against your family and friends”

  —even though he’s the one she said she loved with all of her heart. He must confess that he feels like a—

“I will protect you.”

  Monster.

All of that loathing, and poisonous vexation he’s placing upon everyone but himself. It’s revolting.  

He’s barely aware of what he’s even doing. Everything in his world has fallen out of reach. He can’t protect her. He can’t protect the Uchiha. He can’t even protect himself. He’s lost his sword somewhere. He’s lost the ability to feel just the same. He’s lost his mother. He’s lost his father. He’s lost his brother. He’s lost his uncle. He’s lost his grandfather.

—and now he’s losing his wife and any possibility of a child. He’s losing the possibility of a family.

His heads thrown back as this Senju strikes him once again, but that doesn’t stop him from throwing his own fist right within their jaw. Dirt finds its way deep within his nails as he twists to make himself rise.

“Sasuke-kun move!” her voice is shaking, and terror-stricken as it comes within his ears.

She’s calling out to him—if he caught sight of her right now would she be in tears? Hadn’t she abandoned him already? Why is she calling out for him at all? She had chosen to protect Naruto over standing beside him.

She had chosen them over him.

He’s managed to do as she’s plead out, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s raising his hands up and lacing his fingers together before bringing it down upon this Senju’s back and preparing to raise another fist. All of these things are barbaric. All of these things aren’t strategy. They’re literally beating each other down. They’re doing everything in their power to harm the other.

She’s clouded all of his judgment with her abandonment—that’s what he tells himself when he feels that foot connect with his stomach before the ground shakes with an almost godly force. It’s enough to make them both halt and look to her.

She’s taken her arm back, and that male of silver stands beside her ready to attack, “Don’t touch my husband.” her breathing is erratic as if she’s been sent over the edge just the same.

It’s enough though to send his mind back into pandemonium. She’s claiming him. She’s making her position as his wife clear—even though she stood against him.

Even though she—

“Don’t you want to come home?”

His knees are weak but he’s pushing himself up. There’s a stagger to his stance, but he’s not backing down. There’s swelling in his left eye, but that doesn’t stop him from looking at her with his right just the same. Pressing his hand against a tree he’s steadying himself even more, “Sakura.”

“He is my home—” her voice has broke and it’s as those fingers twist within the fabric of her warn torn clothes against her chest that she finds it once again, “To hurt him is to hurt a part of me!”

He’s still and there’s the lightest of feelings within his chest—this woman saw him as home. It hadn’t just been him looking to her for that feeling of home. These words. These feelings.

They’re a lie.

He can’t trust what she says. She’ll trick him once more.

She’ll lower his defenses and then twist the knife she’s dug between his shoulder blades deeper.

How can she say these things?

Yet, here she is. Here she is making her feelings clear even to this man who had sought her out. She had said she loved him with all of her heart—and that’s what makes his mouth drop. She felt that his pain would harm her just the same. She saw him as a direct part of herself.

Is this what marriage was? A union? A joining of two?

His fingers curl into a fist and his teeth grind together—he had never asked for a wife. He had never asked for any of this—but he definitely wanted her. He wanted to keep his trust in her. He wanted to keep that unbelievable pride for her.

He wanted to have a family with this woman. He wanted to continue walking down this road with her. He wanted to travel through the gravel and stone. He wanted to come back to that world of spring she makes a possibility—yes, he wanted her.

God, does he want her.

He can’t. He won’t.

Because it’s all a lie. Everything this woman spills is for show and not out of love. If she had loved him she wouldn’t turn against him at a time like this.

Yes. She’s brought him into complete disarray.

His mind had broken out into pandemonium—and she almost sadistically continues to shove him into it further without remorse.

He can barely hear her. All he hears is noise. It’s loud. It’s hot upon his ears. It’s too much to take in. Shaky fingers hesitate to raise. Lightning flickers upon the tips. To reach for her out of comfort or in an attempt to harm her he’s unsure. He doesn’t know what he wants anymore.

She’s thoroughly split him in two. He’s of two hearts.

It all truly echos internally.  Failure. Just like him.

He can’t find such things like that right now—she’s completely out of arms reach as his head cracks against the tree he had used for support, and his body is thrown up within the air. The instinct to defend himself is there but it doesn’t lessen the blow of being tossed across the battle field as he seeks to shield himself with his arms.

Her voice is so much further now than it ever had been—it’s masked and drowned out. He’s crying.

#sasusaku #sasusaku fanfiction #sasusaku fanfic #ombree:fics #ombree:theuchihaswife

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capricorn-stark · 3 years

Text

Batboys with a Plus-Size SO

warning: none

request: Batboys with plussize readers? Maybe Marvel Men as well? One of the two? Both? I love them all 😌🥰

a/n: for 🤍 anon

Dick Grayson

Lots of hugs - unless you weren’t comfortable with them, but if you were okay with it, you’d be on the receiving end of a whole lot of them, mainly because I feel like he would give really nice hugs somehow

He’d like wrapping his arms around you, around your shoulders, resting them on your hips

Just ways to pull you closer to him no matter where you might be

He thinks you’re gorgeous because you certainly are, and he will not waste an opportunity to hype you up about it

Especially when you’re feeling great in a cuteass outfit or just generally feeling yourself, he’ll absolutely feed off of that energy and tell you exactly how amazing you look

If there’s ever a time you just so happen to not feel that confident about yourself, you can forget it, because he’ll pick up on that so fast

He’ll point out every single part of you that he finds beautiful, whether that’s physically or by expressing how you make him feel emotionally - and that could be him telling you how much you brighten up his every day, how much you make him laugh

And to him, you’ll always be the most beautiful person in the world no matter what

Jason Todd

One of the many perks of getting the Lazarus 180 treatment is shooting up in height and practically doubling muscle mass

Like, this guy’s 6″ tall and is about 225 pounds worth of muscle

Not to mention he can lift up to 1,000 lbs

So would he want to pick you up and spin you around, ignoring any sort of protest unless it was just something you really weren’t cool with?

Absolutely.

He’d like just showing off his strength in general, you’ll be standing around one minute and the next minute he’ll literally sweep you off your feet with an all-too smug smirk on his face

Will wrap his arms around you from behind, literally just pulling you into random hugs

He’d adore your curves, definitely believes in thicc thighs saving lives

Likes running his hands down your curves, from your waist to your hips and lower still

You being comfortable with your body and being confident in general is just something that he would find incredibly attractive

But honestly, he’d be attracted to anything you’d do

Tim Drake

He would just adore your body and everything about you, honestly

PDA or even getting touchy in general definitely isn’t a thing for him, but you’d probably end up being an exception after he gets used to dating and being in an actual relationship - unless, of course, you’re not cool with it, which in that case, he would be okay with keeping a distance

But if you are cool with it, I feel like he’d actually be into cuddling

Cuddling with you would be heavenly for him, especially with the amount of stress that boy has to deal with all the time

Just putting on a movie, getting under the covers, and being able to hold you and just generally feel totally relaxed and comfortable

He’d love how warm you are, the softness of your skin, the lil extra pillowyness you’d have - he loves all of it

You’ll find yourself needing to drag his ass to bed a lot, especially after arguing over him routinely sleeping past 3 am to take care of “work” while being hunched over a computer screen

And most nights he’ll just listen to you and come to bed

Then he’ll just wrap his arms around you, bury his face in the crook of your neck, and promptly pass out

You’ll get used to this routine. Eventually.

Between your cuddles, caresses, and nap-dates, he’d come to think of you as just being his ultimate source of comfort from absolutely everything

Damian Wayne (aged up)

The label of "plus-size" just isn't a thing for him, it’s not something he really even thinks about

He sees you, you look fine as hell, and he just heads over to shoot his shot

And by shoot his shot, he’d be casually hanging around, off-handedly flexing the weirdest things about himself while trying to act way too cool

I don’t mean he’s saying stuff like how he’s rich, one look at his outfit-of-the-day and pain-stakenly styled hair can tell you that much

But he’d be talking about stuff like how he once rescued a cow from a meat slaughterhouse

Y’know, things that would make you concerned for his well-being and wondering what on earth any of what he says has to do with you, but he’ll eventually realize his tactics weren’t working and will actually manage to take you out on a real date after toning down the flex-factor

But like Jason, he’d be less about how you look and more about how you carry yourself - he’d also be attracted to confident people who just so happen to be hot as hell

So if you ever did feel insecure about your looks or anything of the sort, he’d see it as a ridiculous notion because he knows perfectly well that you’re so much more than any sort of insecurity

Would he be good at telling you all of this? Of course not - he’s literally Batman’s blood son, and Talia wasn’t necessarily the best at communication either

But your size wouldn’t matter to him, because once he finds you to be an interesting person and a compatible partner, all he’s focused on is taking you on fancy dates, showering you in expensive gifts, and you’d get the message in time

And again, the fact that you also happen to be hot is just something he would see as a very nice perk, and he’d definitely be appreciative of that

_____________________________________________________________

Batboy Headcanon Tag List: @daddyissuesmademe

#sorry I was sorta late with this lol #this has been a very busy week #but i'll get most of my reqs done this weekend!#pandemonium scrawl #batboys headcanons #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #dc #dc comics #batboys #batfam #fluff #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x reader #and gn

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