#'damn this sucks' and had to restart the WHOLE thing over

[pilkofi]

You are open for requests? Would it be okay to ask for sad Error sans? Quietly sobbing..? If not, that's okay, I hope you'll have a nice time, and find something fun to draw 🫶

to cut off

Error belongs to loverofpiggies

[author-morgan]

👀 can we get that rant about how Valhalla is 💩?

Oh boy, where do I even start? So, for one, Ubisoft moved the launch date of Valhalla up to align with the release of next-gen consoles (Xbox Series X and PlayStation 5) near the start of November 2020, and likely to have more time to sell copies before competition from games with December releases, like Cyberpunk 2077. But what we got was an unfinished mess of a game (and I’m sure a month wouldn’t have made much of a difference, but we’ll never know now). This isn’t an issue particularly with Valhalla as it is with the entire gaming industry at the moment, though.

The capitalistic drive to charge ridiculous amounts of money (most base games start at $70 USD now) for an unfinished product is sickening. Why can we not just take the time to release a game that will be playable at launch anymore? Do I expect all games to be perfect at launch? No. From the Assassin’s Creed series, neither Odyssey nor Origins were perfect, but they were a whole hell of a lot better than what we got with Valhalla. Even Shadow of War and Red Dead Redemption 2 had their flaws at launch, but at least I could still play the games. Also, the price for DLCs? Insane. The Dawn of Ragnarök DLC is running for $40 USD, that’s almost the price of a new game?

I got my disc (call me an old-timer, but I like to still have physical copies of things) popped it in my Xbox, and waited for over 5 hours for it to install and download the needed content. And that’s where things went wrong. The cutscenes looked awful. The dialogue didn’t match up to lip movements. NPCs would glitch out. Has this been improved? Yes. But it took over three months for the game to even look halfway decent, and by that time, I’d already done half of the ridiculously long main storyline (for the love of God, I never want to play a game that takes close to 100 hours just to complete a main storyline).

The opening sequence for Valhalla is ridiculously long, so long I thought we wouldn’t see a title card at that point, but you know what sucks even more? Having to replay that portion of the game 4 times because the save function was not working properly. I had to start over 4 times. Easily 20 hours of playthrough. Then, once someone on Reddit who was having the same issue as I was suggested to make sure the game was saved both to the cloud and my storage, I was able to progress. But not for long.

The number of times Valhalla crashed back to the Home Screen is ridiculous, so I would lose progress every time that happened, but not as bad as starting back from the beginning. So many of the main quests were bugged. The start scene wouldn’t trigger. I couldn’t interact with an NPC to progress. Once or twice I even desynchronized during a cut scene. So, what does that mean when the quests bug? You either restart the game/console or have to wait for a patch. One of the quests with Aelfred took several restarts for it finally work (and the loading times in Valhalla are so bad).

But if I thought the main quests were bad, the side quests, oh wait world events, were even worse. Some of them I was not able to complete until 6 months after launch, and each patch and update was just me waiting and waiting. Just ask @mrsragnarlodbrok about the damn pig of prophecy. Oh, let’s not forget the fast travel bug. For almost a month, I could not fast travel anywhere, could not call my longship, and while the England map may not have been as large as Odyssey, it’s fucking inconvenient, especially when your character runs faster than the horse half the time.

Also, I love still falling below the map in 2022 or the random times Eivor was yeeted into the air with no way to get back until the game decides to desynchronize me. Like very cool. And as I mentioned, every addition of free content just makes the game’s performance worse. Two of the mastery challenges are still bugged for me. It took this long for the River Raids to finally cooperate. It’s going on two years post-launch, and things are still...not good.

There is still a lot wrong with Valhalla, I hear it from friends who play, from subreddits, and there’s still a lot of room for improvements. But I guess we’ll have to wait for that since the focus is on another DLC for now. Valhalla isn’t perfect yet, and who knows, it may take another two years for it to run as smoothly as Odyssey and Origins, but I’m just ready for NG+. Maybe I wouldn’t be as bitter if I had NG+ because I could replay the story after the patches and enjoy it over just getting frustrated when the missions didn’t advance or when it crashed and lost my progress. But alas, we do not have NG+, and at this rate, I don’t expect it any time soon, and I do not have the time or energy to put that many hours into a new game from scratch when most of the time was just spent grinding (but that’s for a reason right? To sell microtransactions? Pay to win though, lol).

So, here’s my suggestion to Ubisoft. Stop focusing on releasing repetitive free events and focus on fixing the damn game that’s part of your flagship franchise, and I don't know, maybe drop NG+ soon so the game can be played and enjoyed the way the developers and writers wanted it to be? Instead, we were sold a ridiculously expensive half-finished product that still isn't up to par with its predecessors over a year later.

[popculturebuffet]

One Year Anniversary: Top 12 Ducktales Episodes!

Happy anniversary all you happy people! Yes it was one year ago today I started reviewing animation and it’s been a ride to be sure. I’d always WANTED to be a reviewer: I love going on and on about stuff I love, really digging into it and picking it apart... but I could never get started. I tried youtube but I didn’t have the money for the equipment nor a proper shooting space to record, so my efforts.. were not great. And while I TRIED text reviews, my own looming pile of self hatred meant every attempt I made was shot down when it got hard as me not being good enough. 

But one year ago I finally got past that. I’d already been reviewing a bit, doing invididual issues of comics... but got way in over my head trying to do the current line of X-Men comics as it came out, and wisely bowed out of that. But that left a gap: I had nothing to cover week to week and with a demanding new job, I drifted into just doing in charcter chats, little fan fictions script styles. Not bad work, I should do some more at some point and I even got a comissoin once in a while, but nothing I could really live on and not what I wanted to do with my life. 

Enter Ducktales. I’d always WANTED to review the show.. and when the double premire happened, I decided fuck it, and put up my thoughts. And then decided.. hey maybe I can do this every week.. and slowly.. my work evolved, getting better and better, getting more and more likes. I picked up Amphibia when that came by week to week.

And eventually.. this went from a hobby, if one I was passionate about to a career. Not a largely paying one, as only one person was really intrested in paying me for it, friend of the blog and our fincial backer @weirdkev27, but .. it’s money and i’m now making about 30 dollars a month due to a comination of comissions and patreon. Other contributers are always welcome mind you, my patreon is here if your curious and comissions are 5 dollars an episode, but i’ts just nice to have money coming in. To have gone from simply WANTING to review things and make a living off it.. to simply doing it. 

And it’s been one hell of a year.. and not just because 2020 felt like hell or 2021 began with a full on insurrection. I feel like i’ve acomplished a lot in the year i’ve been doing this: I finished what I started with Ducktales season 3, getting better and better as I went. And I didn’t stop there with ducks: I started covering what brought me to Ducks in the first place, the Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck, and while that retrospective has slid a bit on the schedule, I intend to get it back on track this month. I reviewed a bunch of Darkwing Duck episodes leading up to the Just Us Justice Ducks.. chronologically anyway. The actual airing order reads like someone took 50 issues of a comic, made it rain with them, then just started reading whatever ones they picked up randomly. I also covered some of Duck Master Carl Barks work with the classics Night on Bear Mountain, A Christmas for Shacktown and Back to the Klondike, with more to come. 

And the Duck didn’t stop at just reviews I did on my own: Kev comissioned two MASSIVE retrospectives from me: My first for him was Ride of the Three Caballleros where in just a few short months I covered the boys entire televisied careers together from the movie, to house of mouse, to mickey and the roadster racers, to ducktales (again) and finishing with the wonderful Legend of the Three Caballeros. It has probably the worst Daisy imaginable, but otherwise is really excellent and i’m glad I finally watched it. I also covered Don Rosa’s two stories with the boys as part of it. It was a fun ride and I enjoyed every minute of it... okay most of them again Three Cabs Daisy is the worst. And once that finished Kev started up another idea: Shadow Into Light: a look at Lena’s character arc from start to finish that has gone on to be my most popular series on this blog, and that finishes next week. And there’s more to come as after that there’s a short breather with a look at Lilo and Stitch’s crossover episodes.. folllowed by me looking at all three of season 2′s ducktales arcs. And I fully intend to have covered every episode of the series by this time next year, so stay tuned. 

Outside of ducks though I didn’t slow down. I restarted my Tom Lucitor retrospective, covering what i feel to be one of Star Vs’ two best characters, tied with eclipsa, and my personal faviorite as he redeemeed himself, found love and I bitched a lot about the horrible directions the series took and probabably will more as that’s still not done yet. I did what I always wanted to do and started looks at some of my faviorite comics ever, starting with Life and Times and adding in New X-Men and Scott PIlgrim. I also threw in the awesome comic Blacksad. I did pride month for the first time and not only came out publicly, but also did two whole arcs i’m proud of with The Saluna episodes of Loud house and the rednid episodes of OK KO, and generally just had myself a good old fashioned time as an out bi man reviewing childrens cartoons. 

I started Season 2 of amphibia with it’s lows of an endlesss road trip and highs of adding Marcy to the cast and giving us more of the silky voiced keith david. And finally Patreon wise Kev’s taken me on a hell o fa journey: In addition to the restrospectives i’ve covered some additional darkwing duck, and a simpsons homage to the duck comics... but also got a bit weird and obscure with detours like the lost animnaics sucessor Histeria, the apocalyptic comedy where Santa dosen’t know how doors work Whoops! and the adventures of Santa’s bratty teen daughter jingle belle. In short.. it’s been a long year but damn has it been fun and there’s more to come. I’d like to thank all of you for reading, thank my Patreons Kev and Emma for supporting me, and thank my family for doing the same.  So with that out of the way, I figured the best way to celebrate was to do something i’ve been wanting to do for a long time, something honoring the show that gave me this calling in the first place. And with Season 3 sadly being the last, and enough weeks having passed for me to digest it between the finale and today, I could think of nothing better than my top 12 episodes of Ducktales.

Ducktales is one of the best cartoons of the 2010′s. Brilliantly taking EVERYTHING that had come before, the comics, the original cartoon and every bit of duck media period to craft a masterful, unique and wonderful reboot. It was funny, it was insane, and it had damn good character arcs. By the end every member of the main cast along with major supporting cast members like Fenton, Drake and especially Lena, had changed and signifigantly at that. The show was everything I could’ve dreamed of and more and I miss it terribly, hoping DIsney will do a revivial movie at some point. For now though, Frank and Matt’s run on ducktales, as they called it and I do too since i’m a massive comic book nerd, it’s time to look back on my favorite tales of ducks. So grab your sharks, your number one dimes and your friendship cakes with clear gay undertones and join me under the cut as I celebrate one of my faviorite shows and my anniversary in the best way possible. 

12. House of the Lucky Gander! 

 So as i’ve gone on about before and no doubt will again, Donald kinda got the short end of the stick in season 1. While Frank and Matt had good story intentions, keeping Donald away from adventure since he had no interest in it, in practice it meant a beloved Disney Icon who they and disney HEAVILY promoted as part of the series and whose being here this go round was a big draw for fans of the comics.... was only in a quarter of the season and only got TWO plots centered around him in 23 episodes, with only one being the main plot of the episode. The PIlot and Finale both centered around the family more as a whole if your curious how I counted those so while he got plenty of focus in both, it’s still not a day in the limelight sort of thing. 

But unusually for Donald, he lucked out as his one big starring role for Season 1 was both one of my faviorites and one of Season 1′s most inventive outings.  A lot of the episodes enegy comes from a one two punch of a great guest star and one of the series best settings. The guest star is of course everyone’s faviorite overly lucky himbo Gladstone Gander. The show adapted the prick perfectly: The original Gladstone from the comics.. was the worst asshole imaginable, utterly insufferable. And for a villian, and Donald’s rival, that’s all well and good.. but his super luck meant he RARELY , if ever, suffered any consequences for being just...

The 87 series simply made him nicer, while Going Quackers simply removed his luck. No adaptation really got how to make this fucker work.. until this one. Here Frank split the diffrence: Gladstone is still smug.. but he’s no longer actively malicious. While he is an insensitive prick to Donald in this one, unlike the comics he’s not constantly bragging about his luck or how great he is or actively BAITING Donald to fight with him or trying to ruin his relationship or a million other reasons he sucks and I hate him.

This version by contrast... is generous. He’s not the most empathetic, because he doesn’t get how life works, but he does share the riches of the casnio with everyone and in a cameo appearance in “Treasure of the Found Lamp” gladly offers his nephews some diamonds. He’s got a nice surface level charm to him that makes you understand why people like him.. but it’s also clear ther’es nothing UNDER that of value, making you equally understand why Scrooge and Donald hate him. Gladstone in this reboot is a perfect example of why we need reboots or new adaptations in the first place: Because sometimes the original got something wrong or something can be done much better by the new writers. 

He’s perfectly paired with the setting: The House of Lucky Fortune, a mystical casino with an East Asian astatic based in the country of Macaw and provides two great plots. Donald’s really highlights his character: His understandable jealousy at gladstone earning the boys love through nothing while he struggles to make a living for them, and how he feels like a looser and like Gladstone is simply showing that off instead of just not knowing what empathy is. Having Louie be the one to bond with Gladstone was also just pitch pefefct, as is showing some depth for the boy by having himr ealize his hero is an asshole and be the one to help donald in the end. 

The other plot is just pure joy though and is where the setting REALLY shines: Scrooge and the rest of the kids try to leave.. but can’t find the exit. This is where the creative part comes in: The Casino simply morphs to keep people trapped, and caters to them, giving them whatever they want to keep them trapped. In the cases of the kids it’s all hilarious and adorably in character: Huey becomes entranced by a fancy water show, in one of his best bits of the season, Dewey gets a pet tiger who sadly did not come home with him and Webby gets to live the dream we’ve all had of stuffing her face directly in a choclate fountain. Scrooge’s escape is likewise clever: He simply prepares to get a room.. then books it as the check in desk is ALWAYS near the front. 

We then find out Gladston’es trapped get the whole mystical contest with absolutely gorgeous animation, i’ll talk about it in full some time but this episode is just a treat to watch, has a great arc for donald and had some memorable gags. I can’t help but smile when I watch it. 

11. The Dangerous Chemistry of Gandra Dee!  As I mentioned before i’m a superhero nerd so naturally Fenton was one of my faviorite parts of the show. Frank and Matt were just damn good at crafting superhero stories, and like gladstone improved fenton turning him from an awkward donald stand in to an awkward peter parker-esque science nerd who just wants to be a good person and the best hero he can be. He got into science not just because he thinks it’s neat, but because he honestly wants to help people and you can’t help but foot for him whenever he pops up. Lin Manuel Miranda is a large reason for that, bringing his incomparable a-game to the character. While we sadly didn’t get a ton of gizmoduck focused episodes, the fatct we got AS MANY as we did and that Lin didn’t drop out for a minute even with his busy schedule was a miracle and I’m acknowledging that. 

As for why this one, I feel it builds brilliantly on the previous Fentoncentric episode Who Is Gizmoduck?! which just BARELY didn’t make this list and uses the fact we haven’t seen fenton in a while as both a plot point and to move some things forward without having to spend screentime they clearly didn’t have. By having Fenton be just burnt out on superheroics it finds a way to both explain where he’s been, he’s been busy with his new job, and give us an interesting angle to the old “superhero is tired of the life” thing. He never once complains about saving people or stuff... it’s just like any job it gets tiring after a while. As someone who has his dream job but has struggled with it from time to time, I vastly relate. 

Though while I love my boy and Lin is game as always, the episodes real MVP is my other boy Huey. The episode has moved Huey up from being simply Fenton’s fanboy to being his best friend, and adorable as hell relationship. The two clearly respect and appricate each other and Huey is looking out for his buddy the whole episode. His love of love is also just really cute. Added in the mix is Webby, who in one of my faviorite gags of the series, finds out Fenton is  Gizmoduck because Huey is incredibly and insanely blatant with his unecessary coverup. But she of course is game to help while Fenton is trying to play it casual. We also just get a waterfall of great gags as everyone overdoes it wingmanning for fenton: Huey sets up an itallian bistro and tries to purposfully create a lady and the tramp situation, and sings opera (With Manny on acordian), the wonderfully 80′s suit from Fenton’s dad his mom gives him to wear, and Launchpad, who gives us a tremendous list of his exes, and plays my favorite song of the series: It’s a Date, a micheal mcdonnel riff. 

This episode also wisely ups Mark’s Beaks game as Fenton’s arch enemy, still keeping him hilaroius, with the guy acting like a bored teenager and guzzling so much nanite jucie he turns into a hulk, as well as said hulk mode leading to a ton of great gags from kidnapping the children (”I got your kids.. are they your kids? I don’t know how this family works), to “take that coach dad” to eating a pie with tins and all and wondering about said tins. But he’s an actual threat now, taking on fenton in one hell of a fight, and having an utterly transcendent scene where he hacks his way past gyro’s security while dancing.. and dabbing because of course he does. It’s a fun, well done character piece that’s mostly here for i’ts laugh but Fenton’s struggle with Gizmo overtaking his life, and finding out someone he truly hit it off iwth only wanted him for that.. it’s really good stuff and Lin’s delivery after Fenton finds out, the pure pain and betryal in his voice, is just excellent. Also that opera scene is poetry. 

10. Quack Pack!

One of the episodes that started my career naturally landed here. Not for that reason though: Quack Pack is a fun riff on sitcoms, specifically the tgif ones of the 90′s that Disney Afternoon Kids no doubt also watched, the kinds Disney Channel still makes today, and most importanly the kind the Disney Afternoon itself made like Goof Troop and well... Quack Pack. 

Riffs on sitcoms are nothing new and the last year has been FULL of them. 2020 gave us this episode, Beef House and the wonderful “The Perfect House” episode of Close Enough, and this year gave us WandaVision, my second favorite MCU project so far, right behind Black Panther, which used the sitcom deconstruction to create one hell of a character study. 

So you’d think with a year having passed and this concept happening as an entire mini series would dull this one.. but no. it’s still damn funny, having fun at the cliches while, again like WandaVision, having one of the main cast be responsible by accident but go along with it. The episode pivots from glorious affectionate parody of cheesy sitcoms, to that plus horrifying “Humans”, and a character piece for Donald. This brings Donald’s hatred and fed up ness with adventure to a head revealing his fondest wish is just to have a normal life and not loose anyone again. 

It takes one of his best friends to snap him out of it. Look Goofy is my second faviorite of the sensational seven, an episode with him was already an easy sell for me.. but the episode uses him really well. First for laughs as he’s gentically dispositioned to be a perfect sitcom neighbor.. but also for heart. With his family preoccupied and a bit hurt, i’ts Goofy who cuts to the heart of the issue, pointing out NO ONE is normal and even his normal domestic life raising Max, who we see go to prom with roxanne eeeeee, has all sorts of chaos. Normal is what you make of it and pining for some ideal that will never happen was just tearing donald apart piece by piece and by letting go of that.. he finally begins to grow as a person throughout the season. It’s also a great thematic tie in to the season’s overall plot with Bradford and what Makes donald, despite also disliking the chaos his family gets into, different. Donald accepted it and grew as a person.. Bradford clung to his hate and it ate him alive. Or turned him into a non-sapient kind of vulture. Before I close this part out Jaleel White is also excellent and I wish eh’d get back into voice acting. He’s so freaking good at it. Seriously man i’d love to see him and ben in a sonic property together as a mythology gag. Same with Jims cummings and carey. Just think about it whoever owns the sonic movies.. think about it. 

9. The Last Adventure!

Look I knew this was coming, you knew this was coming. But it had to be on here. The Last Adventure is not perfect: The lack of a build up episode like the previous two finales had really hurt this one: even at about 70 minutes, it still feels rushed in places and Huey, one of hte main characters of the season, dosen’t feel like he has a full payoff to his character like Dewey and Louie got. 

But despite those flaws.. this episode is just a damn good ending. Almost everyone gets a big moment paying off their character arc, everyone in the party that comes to rescue webby and huey, along with the two themselves, gets a moment to show off, and everything comes together to give us one last epic sendoff. There’s just moment stacked on moment stacked on moment from Launchpads heroic second wind and donning of the gizmoduck armor, to Webby’s tearful confrontation with Beakley, to Huey using the greatest adventure of all line to foil bradford in one of the most deligfhully nuts moments of the series, I could go on for days with just how triumphant this finale felt. While it left a lot of doors open.. that feels like part of the design. It’s the end of the fight with FOWL.. but our heroes will never stop adventuring, never stop going and never stop being in our hearts and the curtain call at the end is now my faviorite bit of end credits ever, perfectly giving the main cast and friends one last chance to take a bow in their own unique ways. I will always miss this show but I will never be disapointed by the note it went out on. 

8. The 87 Cent Solution!

Look some episodes are show stoppers, some are heartfelt tearjerkers, some are all this and more.. and some episodes are just clever and hilarious. The 87 Solution is the second funniest episode of Ducktales with me and my go to episode when watching the show. It’s just pure fun and with a clever premise: Scrooge notices 87 cents have gone missing, and already coming down with a cold, goes mad with paranoia as the kids slowly don face masks, something that has become even eeerier given everything, one by one realizing he needs to stop. 

While David Tennant is an EXCELLENT dramatic actor, his comedy timing is really something that shoudln’t be ignored and i’ts on full display here as his performance gets more and more deranged, to thep oint he thinks an 8th dimensional imp is repsonsible. He nicely balances the disturbing side of Scrooge’s paranoia, his distancing from his family, with plenty of great gags about it too, the standout being when he offers 2 million dollars to whoever took the money like he’s publicly appeasing kidnappers. It’s fucking brilliant. 

But while David is awesome as ever what really, truly makes the episode is my boy, one of my faviorite characters on the show if not my single faviriote FLINTHEART GLOMGOLD. Keith Ferguson is ALWAYS a dream as the character but this is his best performance by far. Part of this is the addition of Zan Owlson, Kev who I mentioned earlier’s faviorite Ducktales character. She’s not only throughly likeable in her own right, but provides the one thing Flinty was missing; a straight man.. or woman in this case. Scrooge wasn’t TERRIBLE in the roll, but can easily step away from his shit or foil it. Owlson has to put up with Glomgold’s nonsense while desperatly trying to stop him from undoing all her hard work with sheer force of jackass. The two jut play off each other brilliantly, Glomgold not getting sh’es not his employee but his equal and Owlson constnatly snarking at him. 

And of course both things hit their peak in the climax with the family staging a fake funeral (Though no one told donald it was fake), and we get the funniest scene in the entire fucking show as Glomgold burts in in a white suit, money shades and full dance number to “All I Do Is Win’, which when first watching this I was convinced the song was somehow accidnetly on in the background but nope. They got it after using it in the test phase and the scene is better for it. Glomgold twerking on Scrooge’s casket, trying to get on it to dance, and having to be placated like ac hild is the icing on this very rich cake

And the reveal scene is also gold as Glomgold gets into a YEARLONG staring contest with a baby, fails to steal more than the 87 cents and, in my faviorite touch, put on an imp costume just to make scrooge seem crazier... then keeps the damn thing on the rest of the time for no explicable reason. The episode is the show at it’s comedic peak while giving Glomgold a chance to be a genuine threat and that’s Glomgood. 

7. Let’s Get Dangerous!

Frank’s Rebooted Version of Darkwing Duck is probably his greatest achivment with the show. While this show is a team effort, something I slowly realized as I reviewed the show, it’s very clear from the way he talks, how well he knows the show and how much effort was put into porting Darkwing into the reboot that this was his baby. While redefining ducktales for the 2010′s was clearly a huge dream of his... doing the same for the master of suprise was an even bigger goal. And as a huge fan of superheroes i’ve seen my fair share of half assed takes on laired and complex characters. The XCU alone is one giant grab bag of missed opportunities for me. 

So i’ts no exageration when I tell you Frank.. nailed it. In one of the most brilliant moves i’ve seen for a superhero work Frank worked his love of the show into the reboot.. by having Darkwing have been a show, one Launchpad loved.. and so did Drake, who was inspried by the show to become an inspriation himself and while his attempt to do that through a zack snydery reboot failed, Launchpad encouraged him to do it for real. Drake was still himself, but the meta aspect and the toning down of some of darkwing’s more obnoxious traits that didn’t work in a universe that, while patently rediciulous still took it’s characters seriously, he made a BETTER version of the character.

This is where all that comes to it’s peak, and hoppefully convinced Disney to let Frank , and possibly matt, run the reboot. And no, even if Point Grey is producing that dosen’t stop that: Thanks to Invincible i’ve now realized that Seth and his friend Evan producing the show dosen’t mean it’ll be RAN by them, nor unrelated to this. It just means their helping make it and if anything given how lush and gorgeous invincible’s animation is, it’s a VERY good sign their helping out with it if it’s true. 

But wether this versoin continues or not, Frank gave it his best shot. Part of his diffrent angle is having Drake as a rookie here and as such here we see him truly struggle: he’s had his origin, he ahs the cape, he has the gadgets (in a brilliant turn thanks to fenton, who he actually likes... but is so far the ONLY person to not get he’s Gizmoduck), and the city.. but no crime to fight and no real idea how to go about his lifelong dream. The events of the episode slowly shape him: WHile he already had the spirit for darkwing, never giving up, looking good in a cape etc, this episode gives him the heart the same way it gave his original it: With Gosalyn. Dimantopolis and Beatriz just play off each other perfectly, as the two go from neimies to slowly bonding as Drake realizes this kid needs him and that he needs to fight for more than just filing the ohle inside, and goes to hell and back to help her get her grandpa back, with one of the best moments of the episode to me being when Launchpad helps her realize how hard he’s been working at it, an exausted drake refusing to acccept that he can’t get her grandpa back because he promised. He grows from simply trying to live the dream.. to surpassing the original. We also see more from Launchpad, who grows into his new family and helps push his boyfriend and newa dopted daughter in the right directions. The episode really evolves these characters from the simple disney afternoon versions, who while awesome were made into fully fleshed out characters. Gosalyn still has her edge but now has a hard lesson to learn about doing the right thing, forced to give up someone she loves for the greater good but finding a new family in the process. 

Part of what makes the episode work though as while it is funcitonally one big darkwing duck reboot pilot that’s awesome, heartrending and a joy to watch... it’s still a ducktales episode in parts without either part hurting each other. Huey plays a vital role, figuring the ramrod is too good to be true.. and discovering just how it is, then when captured, slowly unravling why Bradford’s there and being at least in part responsible for outing him as a FOWL agent. While this is largely Drakes story the rest of the cast is still vital to it: Scrooge trusting in huey, Louie serving as his logical counter and Dewey meanwhile bonding with team darkwing and helping Gosalyn, knowing exactly where she’s been and providing a nice foil. The episode is just one long and impressive love letter to the original show while creating it’s own thing and that’s really this reboot in a nutshell. It also has some of the best fights of the series, with the first fight between darkwing and bulba, where our hero, unlike his original counterpart, easily troucnes bulba using his speed and skill, is the standout. 

6. Woo-Ooo!

I covered this one recently so I won’t go on for too long.. but I will say I hold this one up as the gold standard for first episodes. In one hour, hell even in jus the first half we get a sense of the whole cast, the tone of the show, and the world we’ve been thrust into. It gets all the table setting out of the way by weaving it into a compelling story of Scrooge getting back in the game, finding a reason to get back to what he does best in those he loves most and setting up the season long arc effortlessly in the process. The worst I can say about the episode is it sets the bar a bit high for Season 1 and a lot of the first half really struggled to reach these heights. This episode is a masterwork and the perfect showcase for what the series would be at it’s height. 

5. Moonvasion!

Speaking of Golden Standards, Moonvasion is one of the best season finale’s i’ve seen. it’s not THE best.. but that’s a really high bar to clear and that spots currently taken in my heart by “The Crossroads of Destiny” from Avatar the Last Airbender. But while not the best of it’s kind, it’s sitll the best the series put out and is an utterly satisfying epic that ties up season 2. 

While I love the Last Adventure, it had a LOT to tie up and was really hampered by having to do all of that with no direct lead in. Moonvasion by contrast hits the ground running with the Moonlanders arriving on earth and all hell breaking loose, and the episode itself breaking into two stellar plots. Scrooge leading an army of every ally he has against the invaders, and Della seemingly going for reinforcements.. but really just trying to keep the kids safe from it, to their anger once they find out. 

Both sides end up going badly: Scrooge looses most of his army as Lunaris was one step ahead of him and is left iwth Beakly and Launchpad, while Della ends up marooned.. and finds Donald. The reunion between the two is the highlight of the special, as the two argue as you’d expect (And Dewey cutting in seemingly to stop it.. only to rant at Donald for costing him “ten years of turbo” is the best gag of the episode), before embracing. 

Our heroes naturally find ways to bounce back though. Louie, capping off his growth for the season, convinces his mom they can’t just hide.. and in the second best scene of the episode sings the lullabye she wrote.. one Donald sung them every night

And no sooner than Della gets her step back and realizes that dangerous or not she and her newly reunited family have to get back in there, do the cousins show up on Fethry’s giant shrimp/girlfriend Mitzi, and our heroes head back. 

Scrooge’s plot hits i’ts peak though as he’s forced to accept the help of an unlikely and unwelcome ally: Glomgold, who turns out to be exactly what they need: While his plan is as stupid, short sighted and insane as you’d expect, complete with forcing Scrooge to dress up as santa just to piss him off and dressing his sharks in parkas (”I call them sharkas”), the sheer lonacy throws Lunaris off as he dosen’t know how to deal with this and Glomgold not only gets the better of him but gets his company back as part of his scheme.  “You were prepared for our best but not our dumbest!” “And i’m the dumbest theirs ever been! Muahahahaha! Wait...”

And of course our other heroes arrive just in time to save things.. and the episode still manages to pull off what many works struggle to, something tha’ts very hard to: a SECOND climax. Lunaris decides to just say fuck it and blow up the earth and i’ts up to our core family to kick his ass in space. Epic space battles, Della’s girlfriend meeting the family and more insues and an emotoinal, action packed and fully satisfying finale is had by all... and it’s all topped with one of the best sequel hooks i’ve ever seen as FOWL makes themselves known to us.. and prepares to strike. 

4. How Santa Stole Christmas! This one will also be short as i’ve talked about this one.. a lottttt. The initial review, my best christmas specials list and my best of 2020 list. I stand by all of that: this is a unique and wonderful christmas special, i’ll be watching it every year, and i’ts full of charm, humor and gay subtext. In short it’s this series but on christmas footing. 

3. Last Crash of the Sunchaser! 

Another one I covered very recently, this episode is a master piece of suspense, slowly building tension as our heroes get closer and closer to the truth about Della.. and to death, the simple but deadly stakes making this an absolute nailbiter from start to finish. This is some of the series best pacing bar none... but what seals it is the ending: the masterful flashback finally explaning whatever happened to Della duck, our heroes lashing out at each other.. all cumilating in the best Scene of the show. I said it might be in the review but no I can confirm: Scrooge bitterly ruminating over things while we find out just how much he’s lost... ending with him tearfully and angrily sitting once again alone in one hell of a powerful shot echoing Scrooge’s first apperance. Damn fine stuff. 

2. Escape from The Impossbin Only one episode not only matches Last Crash in mounting tension and atmosphere but suprasses it. With FOWL and Bradford’s true nature now out in the wind, this episode uses that to create tension and rattles it’s two most unshakable characters: SCrooge’s normal boundless confidence is shot, not sure he can win this time against an opponent who knows him as well as he knows himself while Beakly slowly unravels, pitting Webby against the boys.. and pitting herself against Webby when Webby sees her terroizing them is only dividing them. Both plots start out funny enough but slowly escalate in tension and stakes until by the end your on the edge of your seat. The Beakly plot is the standout of the two, giving Bentina the starring role she badly needed, having gotten even better in light of the finale. Everyone is at the top of their game and everything builds up to one hell of a twist ending and one hell of a badass boast from our heroes: Their down.. but their far from out and this is far from over. 

1. Nightmare On Kimotor Hill!

I”ll be reviewing this episode in full later this week as part of my Lena retrospective, but I stand by putting it up top. This episode is ducktales in it’s purest form and focuses on it’s best original character as Lena grapples with her self hatred and her past. That core helps anchor an amazing concept: going into the Kid’s dreams and finding out their greatest desires. The results.. are all gloriously rediclous and are easily the best gags of hte series as a whole: Dewey’s high school musical santa claus is going ot high school nonsense from getting a’s in Dewology to running away from the abstract concept of a love intrest, to not getting the sybolism of himself crying a moon made of his own tears. Louie quite literally becoming garfield, and my faviorite scene of the show: Huey, wanting to be the tall older brother..g iving himself horrifcly long leg. While everyone else is just understandably baffled, what makes the scene is the banter between Dewey and Huey, with Schwartz and Pudi at their best as Dewey first freaks out and then asks what the hell man, while Huey defends his weird decision (”I”m not good at imagination stuff okay!”), and then tries to get a jar of pickles. Each dream is just so oddly and wonderfully specific to each kid and each one of the triplests dreams, as well as violets being color coded down tot he backgrounds is a very nice touch. The visuals here are just peak ducktales, using the setting for all it’s worth and the climax is utterly emotoinal and heartbreaking... and Lena’s break from her abuser, finally realizing she has the power now is not only a wonderful metaphor... but also just so damn cathartic. And that’s why this one’s the best to me personally: it just packs so much into 20 minutes: some of the series best and most creative jokes, a gripping emtoinal arc, and so much more. It’s just that damn good and tha’ts why it’s the best... that and starting Huelet for me. Seriously that LIbrary scene is so fucking cute. 

Thank you all for reading. If you liked this artcle, join my patreon and help me get to my stretch goal for monthly darkwing duck reviews, a review of super ducktales and more after! Until the next rainbow... it’s been a pleasure. 

[theresnosafeharbor4myships]

TITLE: Out of the Grave - Chapter 1: The Void

A/N: An alt ending/fix-it fic. Because we and they deserved better--so I made it happen.

83 hours and 37 minutes. Not that he'd kept a count exactly. Just that his eidetic mind knew the exact moment Abbie had left this world, taking his heart with her and leaving him hollow, and his quick thoughts often calculated the duration he'd kept breathing without her. He'd spent the first 6 hours and 24 minutes working with Miss Jenny and Master Mills—and ultimately, ironically, his old pal the Horseman—to try to defeat Pandora and force her to release his Lieutenant, only to learn she'd actually expired. The dreams he'd had, sweet and aching moments with Abbie reflecting on their meet cute, time in the Archives, relaxing on their front porch where she'd tried to explain why he should let her go, would never suffice. He hadn't said the things he'd wanted—needed—to, hadn't explained how she'd helped save him: from roaming lost in this world, from imprisonment and institutionalization, from his son and the myriad monsters they'd encountered, from a wife who'd never truly been honest with him. And yes more important matters: from going mad, drowning in loneliness, feeling isolated, floating adrift in a world that still confounded him sometimes. And at times even saving him from himself. No, he hadn't said any of those things. And now he never could. Which is why he'd spent the next 49 hours and 52 minutes drowning his sorrows, his hollowed out chest, and his overactive mind in rivers of alcohol. He hadn't gotten smashed or wallowed in oblivion. No, he'd needed it to last, so he'd drunk just enough as the hours passed to keep the clawing ache in his empty ribcage from swallowing him whole. Miss Jenny had come by sometime around hour 32, banging on the door so hard he thought the roof would cave in. If he'd cared at all, he might feel concerned about her waking the neighbors in the dead of night, but he couldn't muster enough decency to. He'd ignored her at first, thinking she'd take a hint, or at least think him not home, but her insistent knocking continued. "I know you're in there, Crane." More banging. "Let me in there, or get out of my sister's house." It was a low blow, but one he deserved, for Miss Jenny had lost just as much as he had. If anyone had earned the right to drown her demons with liquor right next to him, it was her.

He'd stumbled to the door—okay, maybe he had gotten smashed, for he felt her knocking vibrate through his brain—bottle in hand, and unlocked it, turning the knob and walking away before he'd even seen her face. The slam of the door rattled the house but not him, and he shuffled back to his couch cushion, dropping down onto it, sipping from the bottle, and staring into the fireplace embers. Jenny said not a word, simply restarted the fire and plopped down on the other end of the couch, gazing at the vibrant blaze as it danced shadows around the room. After a few minutes, he threw out his arm towards her, bottle in hand, and she took it from him, downing a few gulps to try to silence the ache. She tried to return it to him, but he waved her off, waiting another 30 minutes before slowly rising—why did simply existing hurt so much?—and  retrieving a few more bottles, which he'd purchased on his way home from that graveyard, from the stash in the kitchen. He placed them on the cushion between them, an open bar for them to sink into. Another few hours dragged by, and he felt more than heard Jenny crying at some point, the room changing from desperation, anger, and pain to grief and mourning, and he joined her, tears cascading down his face unabashedly. Their silence made their shared sorrow all the more palpable, exchanging emotions they couldn't speak aloud, the shroud around them sucking the whimpering breaths out of them as easily as it'd done to their partners. How could he have kept silent all this time, holding in and swallowing down the words that'd desperately begged for release? He'd tried to ignore them, the burgeoning affection, passion—now that it mattered no longer, he could admit it, cowardly fiend that he was—and love he'd harbored for Abbie since long before proprietary permitted it. He'd killed his wife for her, for Heaven's sake! And while he pretended mere friendship, ignored everything that screamed at him to make his feelings known, he hadn't hidden a damn thing. Miss Corinth, Betsy, even Pandora had seen his love for her. What an abominable fool he'd been. And now the one person who needed to know, who should've heard it from his own lips a thousand times over, never would. He let the tears burn down his face, though they washed none of his self-recriminations away. He deserved every horrid thought he had about himself. They ripped through his mind, scathing him, leaving him more raw and aching than he could ever remember feeling before. His entire body ached, joints, marrow, muscles, head, chest. And still he sipped on, needing the numb, refusing the full onslaught of trauma a clear mind would force him to face. He'd lost before, lost battles and comrades and his dignity. Lost loves and his homeland and best friend and life. His world and his wife and his son and the dreams he'd had and held and hoped for. Hell, he'd even lost Abbie a few times. But never where he couldn't get her back. Never where he couldn't find a way to follow, to find, to free her. And Master Corbin too. To lose both within hours of each other...they could shrivel into oblivion right now and it'd feel better than this. Master Joe had become his compatriot, his comrade in arms against the monsters and the daily dose of estrogen floating around the Archives—not that he'd trade the Mills sister or Agent Foster for ten regiments of men—not to mention a brother and friend. And Abbie...the ache in his chest seized him anew, and his shoulders hunched in against the black hole of despair threatening his breath. He couldn't begin to enumerate all the things she'd become to him. Partner, secret-keeper, fellow Witness, best friend, confidant, companion, roommate, voice of reason, inspiration, keeper of his heart. He thought he'd been in love once, had been in fact, but losing her had felt nothing like this. He'd sat in pain, suffered with the guilt that he'd not devoted enough to her, hadn't held tightly enough to a union that hadn't been what he'd agreed to, despaired that she'd died by his own hand in an effort to save Abbie. He'd had to—it hadn't even been a choice by then. Now, though, without Abbie...he didn't know how to keep breathing, wasn't sure he wanted to. Couldn't see beyond the bottom of the bottle. How could he walk through the world, the Archives, the town, this house, with memories of her around every corner, breathing down his neck, invading his mind, shredding the broken pieces of his heart into shavings? How could he solve the mysteries of the supernatural without her intellect, expertise, and help? What was one Witness to do without his other half, the best part of him, his anchor to this era? He couldn't sit still with himself and his maudlin ruminations another second. Without thinking, Ichabod hefted himself off the couch and shuffled down the hallway, making a pit stop before grabbing a box of tissues from the hall closet. He set them down on the cushion between them and took his seat again. Jenny had stayed until the sun was well into the sky, barely any words spoken but sharing the pain of their losses just the same. She'd stretched her hand out towards him, bridging the empty spaces around them with a simple reach of her arm across the cushion. He looked at her hand, open and alone in the expanse between them, and he slid his hand into hers, both of them holding on and squeezing tightly, attempting to convey all the things they couldn't speak with words. A moment later, she slipped quietly out of the house, the finality of the door clicking closed somehow louder than the slam she'd entered it with, sealing him into a solitude he'd never comprehend. More hours passed as he'd slept off the nasty hangover he wouldn't admit he had, as he sat in the bathtub letting the hot water steam over him until it cooled off and had him shivering, as he roamed aimlessly from room to room, gazing longingly at all the remnants of Agent Lieutenant Grace Abigail Mills: her hairbrush, those heeled boots that still left her a foot shorter than him, the cappuccino she'd just started drinking again at his behest, her pea coat with the faux-fur hood that made her look adoringly like a diminutive Eskimo. Now, just over 84 hours had passed, and he still didn't have a sweet clue as to how to get through the next one, still sat in this one corner of the couch, only this time without a drink in his hand. Without so many things... Without a case to work, without his partner in crime and, he'd begun to hope, in life from here until the end, without a purpose, he might as well lay back down in that cave he'd emerged from and sleep for a few more centuries. "Crane." Her voice, soft and lilting and perfect, floated to him, a haunting sound he both craved and feared. He'd thought he might have imagined her during his indulgent consumption of alcohol, but no...it was here in his lucid moments that he'd conjured the sound of her, the voice he'd long to hear until the day he drew his last breath. "Crane." She sounded hesitantly happy, guardedly optimistic, a smile coming through her tone. Exactly how he heard her in his mind, same as he'd done when she'd been lost in the catacombs. He shook his head slightly to escape from her, not ready for conversations with her yet, everything about him still too raw to face all of the things he needed to apologize for, all of the things he'd never had the audacity to tell her when she'd stood by him, encouraged him, spurred him on. "Ichabod." She accompanied her insistent tone and the rare use of his first name with a hand on his shoulder, and he nearly jumped out of his skin, scrambling up from the couch to face whatever ghoul had come to destroy his feeble, battered mind. And his jaw dropped. There she stood...Abbie. In one piece, small in stature but large in presence, beautiful and strong and...breathing. How could this be? "Abbie...?" His whispered question sounded more like a squeak, but he didn't dare try again, wasn't sure what devilry was at work here, arriving to destroy him when he was at his lowest, his most vulnerable. She looked at him, her expression a mixture of sadness and apology, a small smile of hesitation and hope playing on her face. "Hi."

[maggyoutthere]

I can't believe I actually fINISHED THIS HOLY SHIT-

The chapters are more than 4000 words long combined. I literally never wrote something this big damn. As much as this is supposed to be satire of bad creepypastas, this little shit found its way into my heart. I'll treasure it as probably the best thing I've written, like, ever XD

‼Tws for blood and body horror

First part here

Second part here

Sonic: Battle of Metal and Blood (Part 3 - Finale)

Synopsis: Local teen faces off against whatever is haunting this game and dies(?)

The game took a while to load again.

I was already making backup plans in my head in the case this didn't work. I could always ask people online if anyone had ever known about this game, even get my brother to help me record some clips of it to post on forums and sites. If that didn't work, maybe try and dump the file on my PC? That could be dangerous; if it was making the console crash and restart, I didn't want to know what it could do to my computer.

I was thrown in the same level. Well that was weird. It was the exact same jungle, or at least it looked like it at first. I could tell it was now supposed to be night time since everything had almost a dark blue filter over it, even Tails, who I was playing as this time. The night filter made the level a bit harder since I couldn't see some things properly, but it was still playable. It looked just like any Sonic game from that time, but I knew something was definitely up with it. I just flew over some badniks and made my way across the level (I missed smashing stuff with Amy's hammer so I just tried to escape that level as quickly as possible)

I entered the same clearing, fearing what would happen to Tails this time. Guy was 8, and I doubted SEGA would let their employees just kill off a kid on screen; but again, as far as I knew this game wasn't even supposed to be here. It could've been some unhappy worker or employee gone rogue making a statement. It wasn't helping to be honest. As I followed the exact same route as Amy, I found Metal Sonic again, still stepping on... something. It was too dark to see what it was. It just made squishy and disgusting noises as he pressed his foot on top of it. For an old game, the audio design was pretty unsettling and well done.

I didn't want to get closer to the guy, so I tried flying over him and getting to a checkpoint or something, anything besides confronting that thing. As soon as I made Tails take off from the ground, Metal came flying at him. I almost shrieked as I tried getting the little guy away from that thing, immediately making him land and sprint out of there as fast as possible. In all that panic, I didn't even notice when he tripped over whatever Metal was stepping on and fell on his face. No matter how many buttons I pressed or how hard I pressed them, Tails wouldn't get up. Metal catched up with him and the screen went black as soon as the two collided.

Those same red eyes were back on screen, staring straight back at me. I was with my face glued to the television from all the anxiety that little chase scene gave me, so I jumped back when the thing looked back at me. It felt like it was looking directly at me.

"I want ears like yours"

There it was again

"I want arms like yours"

"I want a mind to think and a heart to feel like yours"

I wanted to punch the screen; I had no idea what was going on. This was starting to get unsettling. Then, I was back in the main menu, the game's menu. It didn't crash this time, at least that. Tails was gone, like Amy. Now, Sonic was there, facing his metal faker. The two looked like they were about to punch each other in an epic pose. Visually it looked great, but then it hit me. "Battle of Metal and Blood"; did it mean faker versus organic? So the two were going to fight again? Maybe we could still get a happy ending of some sorts.

I didn't even flinch. I pressed continue.

The jungle was gone. I was in some facility  now, playing as the blue hedgehog himself this time. The level layout was much different this time; there were more loops, enemies, spikes and so on. Maybe it was only because I was playing as Sonic this time, so I could just speed my way through the level without having to worry about smashing enemies or flying away from them. I got through the level and ended up reaching an empty room; Metal Sonic was there.

I had never been much of a player myself; I'd rather stand by the sidelines and watch as more experienced people got through all the hard levels. Sure I played a lot when I was a kid but I hadn't carried that with me to adolescence. Now I had to do it myself. Hours of playing Sonic CD as a 12 year old, don't fail me now.

The boss fight music kicked in and a large door slammed shut, covering the way out. It was actually kinda hard landing a hit on the guy; I was supposed to dodge his attacks until he got tired and stopped, then parry on certain parts of the walls and spin dash at Metal Sonic as many times as I could while he was down. The thing was: I was awful at parrying. I sucked at anything that involved aiming, but I was somehow able to pull it off well enough to send the guy to his knees after around 20 minutes of dodging and parrying things.

When I hit him for the last time, it looked like I'd split his face in half or something. There were some pieces of Metal Sonic's shiny blue cover scattered around the arena. He just stood still for a while covering his face. Did I do it? Was he deactivating or something? My fingers were getting sore from holding the control and mashing buttons so hard. He wouldn't move on his own, so I just made Sonic approach him to maybe give the final blown.

As I got closer to him, Metal immediately lashed at Sonic again, trying to hold him down. You could see his face a bit better and… it was kinda red. What was that? Was he changing to another phase or something? The screen went black again.

Staring back at me were no longer those two red beacons; there was only one this time, as Metal Sonic did have half of his face completely torn apart. The uncovered half of his face was a bloodied, pulsating mess of flesh and wires. Coils, staples and stitches kept the mass of muscle and whatever else he had inside of him crudely stuck together. Two different colored eyes were shoved in one eye socket as the whole thing now oozed with blood and oil.

"I need quills like yours"

"I need a body like yours"

Was that… what Amy and Tails…

"I need an organic body like yours

to become the Real Sonic"

What… the fuck… I was too shocked to even move as it cut back to the game. Metal Sonic had successfully tackled Sonic to the ground and had started clawing at his face as if trying to rip it out of his "loathsome copy". As I saw a pool of blood appearing under them, I told myself that was enough and got up to pull the cartridge right out of the console. This was just sickening. As I got closer to the console to pull the memory card out, I realised something that made me start worrying about this in a different way. As I got a good look at my Playstation 2, I realized it wasn't plugged in. It wasn't receiving any power at all. It was only connected to the TV.

How had it been working then?...

I slowly backed away from the console, and when I looked back at the screen, that darned thing was looking back at me. It was looking at me as I was trying to stop it, peeking at the side of the screen as I went to turn off my Playstation. That thing knew I was there. No no no, this couldn't be happening. I started shaking as I realized there was something looking back at me though the screen. Its red eyes pierced into my soul, and I didn't know how to stop it.

"I WANT A SOUL… LIKE YOURS"

I shrieked as I finally pulled the cartridge out of the console, throwing it against the wall to my side in pure fear. The screen immediately went to static and the Playstation opened by itself, the Sonic Gems Collection DVD taunting me. That was NOT just a game. Whatever it was, whoever it was, I was terrified to even pick up the memory card. I put the DVD back in its box and turned off the console. I tried taking deep breaths and getting some sleep; it was late, I'd drank a lot of coffee. Maybe all the coffee I was having had created this fever dream. I begged for that to be the situation. Still, I got no sleep that night. My eyes were focused on the TV right in front of my bed, its bright red ON/OFF button giving me panic attacks each time I thought I saw it moving. If I didn't know better, I'd have believed the thing had been watching me all night.

Would it come for me next?

I ended up passing out around 5AM; I was constantly checking my phone to see the time and messaging my friends. I tried explaining the situation to them but they thought I was either messing with them or that I had somehow dreamed the whole situation. I was dead-sure I hadn’t though. I woke up around 2PM and, according to my brother, I looked like shit. Not even he would believe me when I told him what had happened last night; I couldn’t have dreamed the whole thing up even if I wanted to. There had to be something to prove it was all real… the memory card. If I played the game in front of him, he’d have to believe me. After getting breakfast, I pulled my bro back to my room to show him the game. I hesitantly went to pick up the memory card I had thrown against the wall yesterday, but it was no longer there.

“What are you looking for?”

“The memory card; it was right here! Help me look for it!”

“You mean this one?” he pointed at the Playstation.

The fucking cartridge had plugged itself back on the console. What was that thing, and how was it doing that?! The TV screen lit up with static as me and my bro jumped back; we looked at each other in panic and confusion as no one had even touched the TV. We could feel the electricity flowing through the air, giving us chills and making our hair stand up. My brother grabbed my hand as we saw the darned thing appear in front of the static, its shiny metallic cover still split in half. I froze in fear with my little brother to protect right there; I should’ve done more, I should’ve gotten rid of that cursed thing as soon as I unplugged it from the console last night. That thing placed its hands against his side of the screen, its fingers twitching as the blood made the metal hinges rust and creak. The edges of the screen leaked with blood as if he was trying to break this barrier that separated him from us. It looked at us the same way it looked at me; ready to take what he believed was his.

“I… WANT… SOULS LIKE YOURS… AND I WILL HAVE THEM…"

[antigoneidk]

heyy, hope u r doing fine:) so i was thinking about a request with tom x reader where they argue and tom goes out w friends leaving her behind and she's all sad crying etc and when he comes back he sees her and tries to cuddle her but she doesn't want to... u can decide the end(btw u r amazing)💖

hello there...thank you for your request(also thanks for asking I'm doing great how about you?feel free to send😊) also dont make me choose an ending cause you know where this is going:)

Leave|t.h.

part 2

You and your boyfriend were cuddling in bed watching an episode of Big Bang Theory. Your head was resting in his chest,hearing his heart beat and his laughter through out the entire time.

After a long,long time you were able to spent this evening together. Your relationship was not at it's best, it was showing, and the both of you knew it.But it was the little things that mattered now.

At some point the phone rang and you picked, worried that maybe something happened to someone.

"Hey wanna come?"you heard a man's voice over the phone.

"Who's these?"you asked confused.

"Ohh hey Y/N. Is Tom there?"

"No he is not"you lied as you realised that the boys were all hanging out and they wanted your boyfriend with them. You even got mad for a second to them.

You of course were happy that they cared for him and looking forward to spend the night all together. They were a family.But you also wanted to spent this night together cuddling,watching series and talkin about everything and anything. You wanted this badly, you needed.

You hang up on them and hugged the boy next to you.

"Who was it babe?"Tom asked you as he kissed your forehead and your heart skipping a beat.

"The boys but I said that you aren't here so we can spend the night together" you giggled and looked at him with excitement. You had plans for you and him.

But he wasn't feeling the same.

"You did what?"the boy next to you was slightly pissed.

"I lied so we can be together now. Is it that bad?"you laughed thinking that maybe he was playing with you.

"Umm yes it is. Like you don't care about mine opinion?"he asked furious. He stood up,pausing the episode and looking around for his shirt.

"Of course I do! But I don't get why are you mad. Because I said a little innocent lie? Don't you want to spend the night with me?"you were confused. You thought that he wanted to stay with you all night and after all the two of you had planned this from the previous day.

"I don't think you care Y/N. I waited for them to call you know. This is our night"he was about to leave the room until you ran up to him angry, blocking his was out.

"What? You said that this was OUR night. We don't always have this chance. You always working,I'm always working and when we decide that we're gonna do something always another thing comes up and you end up with them. You said it damn it"you were now almost crying at him, punching him in his chest and yelling.

It sucked having a relationship like this. You were both working hard for what you wanted. Proud for what you already have. Also you were grateful for being with Tom. He was the best thing that happened to you in years. You loved him with your entire soul but lately he wasn't being the one you fallen for.

He was always angry or mad at you for even the smallest thing. Coming home later than usual. You thought that maybe he found someone else and was not longer in love with you. But the stories he shared on Instagram were with his friends at a house being drunk and silly.

He couldn't just for one night stay at home with you?

"Well I lied. Now get out of my way" he pushed you aside and you surprisingly looked up at him with your eyes wide open, confused by his actions.

"What the hell is wrong with you lately?"you raised your voice at him walking behind. He was heading towards the door but as soon as he heard you, his body turned and he was facing you once again.

"No no no! I'm fine. I'm happier than ever. The problem here is you. You should think what is going wrong with you darling"he laughed at your face taking the keys from the little table near him. You stood there with tears in your eyes, wondering if this was a joke or he had changed but you didn't have the power to see it this past couple of months.

"You..you..you are not who you were once. You changed."you whispered and paused for a moment closing your eyes."Is there someone else Tom? Just tell me"

"Oh my God! You are unbelievable Y/N. Unbelievable."he closed the door and the cold air hit your face but you stood there looking at the door, waiting for him to come back telling you that this was a prank and kiss you. But the more you waited, the more disappointed you got.

You questioned everything that happened in the last 3 minutes, from how you were laying on the bed relaxed and happy that you were the two of you finally spending the night together, to how it was so easy for him to leave.

You tried to put your self at his shoes calmly, to figure out if maybe he was right, that you actually needed to work it on yourself. Yes you lied but your heart desired this night more than ever. Was it that bad?

You returned to your room. Your whole mood changed.

After 5 hours and you were still a mess. Your eyes burning from crying, your chest hurting from the pain.

You heard the front door open. You stayed still waiting for him to come. After one minute he showed up on the door looking at you.

His eyes were red as well as his nose. He seemed hurt. And drunk. Of course.

You looked at him with mixed emotions. You were mad for his actions. Broken for his words. And sad for losing him.

You've had enough. You loved him. You did. But see him change like that..

You wanted to help but he wasn't letting you and that's what made you angry.

"I'm sorry"he spoke quietly waiting for your reply.

"Oh really? Cause I don't you are"

"No baby no! I am sorry. I am sorry for being an asshole to you later. And not only. I'm sorry for pushing you like that. But I swear it wasn't me. It's just...it's..I am not myself anymore. I am lost and I'm losing control.Baby I'm a mess" he said and sat next to you trying to wipe your tears away. You smelled the vodka. He was heartbroken for sure.You didn't let him touch you though.

"I tried so many times to help you but you kept pushing me away. Running from your problems isn't going to solve them. You have to fight them. And you are miles away" you said distancing yourself.

"My love its-"

"How can we be like this huh? How can I love you when you don't even know who you are? Why I have to stay in this and being hurt?"you interrupted him confessing your feelings.

"Don't break my heart like this Y/N. You know I love you. Don't do this to me not now. I need you"his hands tried to reach you but you stopped him.

"You need me now but how about tomorrow? Cause tomorrow is always different for you. Is that how you need me? Just for the night and then leaving me again? Is this the way you think it's working? Let me tell you something. It's not.

Being in an relationship means that you share. Your happiness your sadness your pain your problems. Everything. You want to help the person you love but also accept the fact that you also need help from this person.

For us it wasn't that way. I am trying so hard to share my feelings to you and my problems. I am trying to help you too. But all you do is take your keys and leave. I've had enough.

So what I want from you is to take your keys,leave and never come back" you were hurting but also you were hurting your lover. But as you said you've had enough.

"What? No you can't do this to me! No I am not going anywhere. I am staying here. As you said I can't run from my problems. See i am not. You are. We have to face our problems together as a couple Y/N"

"No that's what you don't understand.. I am tired of facing OUR problems alone this whole time. And now it's late"

You left the bedroom walking towards the door grabbing your jacket and wearing your shoes.

"I am not letting you go. You are not allowed to leave" he command thinking he has this power over you.

"I am not asking for your permission. As I said it's late for you now. I've made my decision. So please let me leave" your tears made it even harder for you to see. Your voice was deep. You didn't want to leave him like this. But it was the only choice.

"Is that what you really want?" He looked at you with hope in his eyes. Hoping that you will forgive him and restart your life by changing for good.

"Move out of my way please"you didn't even looked at him at this point.

He moved and you left him there.

That was the last time you saw him.

_______________________

I am so sorry for any mistakes but its 2 am and I'm so tired. I know it's small but I'm preparing something big I promisee

Hope you like it:)

(You wanted a happy ending right😂?)

{Gifs not mine}

❤❤

[interstellix]

full hearts ↳ lee minho (lee know)

genre: angst, fluff

summary: no matter how it’s played, it’s always the same ending - unless a new one is unlocked

word count: 2235

requested: “i would like to request an au with minho please and ummmm well :O IT’S CUTE”

warnings: mentions of blood

a/n: LMFAOO ALLY LOML I’M SO SORRY IDK WHAT THE HELL WENT WRONG HERE I- listen consider this a free coupon for a free request with no expiration date bc this shit went straight to hell LOL but ye ily mwah @walkingonwave​ also why tf did it get so long fjdfdhjdk

you hate it when someone plays your video game. not one that you own, but one that you’re in.

you hate it because, no matter how often it's played and how often you have to experience the same story over and over again, you never get used to the terror and pain lacing it.

there’s more to it than the eye meets, what the screen shows and what the player is served; to you, it’s simply too much.

“I swear, this game ruined my life,” minho sighs before showing you a smug smirk, “good thing I have one more.”

you shoot him a glare but still glance at the digital wristband he wears which, much to your relief, shows a glowing red heart next to two black ones. indeed, one more life.

“how can you even be joking in this kind of situation?” you ask between heavy breaths and look him up and down. “you’re bleeding from your arm, you just got shot in your leg and there are probably two, three broken ribs as well.”

minho snorts, “can you blame me? the player sucks.”

you can’t argue against that. the player does suck for sure, constantly getting you and the rest of your team in trouble, making you die left and right, using potions and other items like they’re lollipops handed out to children; honestly, you’re surprised they have even made it this far into the game - the final stage and battle. that said,

“yeah but you can still control what’s going on behind the scenes. maybe, maybe you wouldn’t be in the miserable state y-”

you’re cut short by the high-pitched, piping noise you’ve by now come to dread, not fancying the explosion it’s shortly after to be accompanied by; just as it comes, minho wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you up from the shattered pavement you had fallen limp on.

“as if you’re in place to call me miserable,” he sighs and runs away from the spot all while still carrying both his equipment and you. “look at yourself, I’m impressed you even have enough energy to complain so much.”

you remain silent, aware that you can’t deny it. the adrenaline rushing through your body is really the only thing keeping you awake despite you being in a fairly worse state than you had claimed minho to be in.

said one doesn’t slow down but occasionally steals glances at you and upon noting the exhaust slowly but surely taking over your features, he calls out, worry clear in his voice, “god damn it, y/n! keep your eyes open, you still have a full life left, right?”

though not all too pleased by it, minho takes the low hum escaping you as a valid answer and keeps running to the first possible shelter found. you eventually find yourself in a two story building, not in a particularly perfect state with the catastrophe of a final battle going on in the city but enough for shelter.

“minho?” hearing the energy gradually leaving your voice, minho bites his lip to stay relaxed and instead hums, waiting for you to go on. “how can you stay so calm?”

as he enters a bedroom and carefully places you down in the rightful bed inside, he answers simply, “if I show you I’m scared, you’ll start panicking even more, right?” slowly, he removes the heavy equipment from your body, showing you a small smile while wiping a wound on your cheekbone clean from blood. “I don’t really fancy that idea.”

the playful look in his face loosens into a soft one, lips curled up in a small smile and eyes warm, “make sure you get some rest, yeah?”

as soon as you hear this, your eyes widen and fear quickly fills you. tightly grabbing onto the hand now cupping your cheek, you question in a shake breath, “where are you going?”

“I have to find the rest of the team, it’s been a while since we were separated and I still can’t get in touch with them-”

a sharp pain settles itself in your abdomen when you hastily sit up in the bed but at that moment, you can’t seem to care any less about it and hold onto his shoulder instead. “w-wait, you’re just gonna leave me here?!”

minho lightly pushes your hand away and answers with clear confusion, “no, but we can’t just ditch the re-”

the conversation is cut short when the nth explosion erupts in the outside world, followed by a whole chain of more and you look out through the window, the city might as well be considered the hell on earth by now; the sight of dark smoke, fire and more and more buildings getting destroyed only adds to the lump of fear and anxiety in you. you look back at minho and with pleading, glossy eyes, you just barely manage say through your irregular breathing increasing at a ridiculously high pace,

“min, p-please, don’t leave me alone.”

he furrows his eyebrows, not understanding just how desperate you are for him to not find the rest of your friends, to the point where it almost sounds selfish. “what’s wrong with you? we have to find the guys to finish the ga-”

right then, just as he catches a sole tear escaping your eye, realization seems to sink down on him, features once again softening. it’s nothing about selfishness at all, nothing about wanting to ‘ditch’ the rest of your friends. it’s simply the fear and pain of losing the person most dear to you - him.

“y/n...” minho’s hand returns to your cheek, this time to tenderly wipe the corner of your eye dry and as he speaks, his voice is almost comforting even during the definition of war currently going on, “we’ve played this game so, so many times, baby. you already know I’m always right with you.”

eyes shutting close, you lean into the touch of his hand and whisper, “you know that’s a lie, minho; I hate this game so much, we play everything together with the other guys, beat the final stage every, damn, time but we never get a happy ending. that shit just doesn’t exist in this game and I can’t handle it anymore.”

just as your vent of panic comes to an end, your wristband suddenly starts beeping, two quick, disturbing tunes. even more confused, minho looks down at its screen only for his jaw to drop; out of your three hearts, only a half of the last one is still shining and instead of the bright red, it’s a purple.

with a mix of anger and his own panic, minho groans while scanning your body for any possible causes of it, “when the fuck did you get poisoned?!” before going on, he finally finds a dark patch on your upper arm, staining it with the same shade of purple as shown on the screen. “why did you never tell me?”

despite the sobbing you’ve broken out in in the middle of the chaos, you choke out, “wouldn’t matter, player drained it all.”

minho’s jaw clenches and while he himself stays quiet, his mind is screaming, trying to figure out how to solve the situation. reaching out to the sheets under you, he pulls off a strip and hurries to wrap it around your arm in hopes of the poison to not spread as fast anymore. “listen well, alright?” he begins as he ties a tight knot. “don’t move or you’ll only lose even more health points; I don’t care if there’s never a happy ending, I won’t have you dying on me before we’re even done here.”

“but-”

“I can’t have you getting scared either. I won’t be able to focus on the game if I know you’re scared,” minho interrupts. he cups your face, solid eyes locking with your own, words gentle as they’re uttered,

“look at me, y/n. don’t think of anything else, just look at me.”

though staying quiet, you do as told. you do as told, relishing in the warmth radiating from his hands, letting yourself relax at the sight of your boyfriend so close up even though he looks like mess on two legs. you do as told, only for one tear after another to build up in your eyes.

minho leans his forehead against yours. when he whispers, you notice that you’re not the only scared one here, the shakiness in it revealing more than enough. all that said, he still manages to say every word you both need to hear and trust.

“just a little more... I don’t care about a happy story, if the game’s going to end, I want it to end with you next to me so hang on just a little more.”

whether it’s the pain, exhaust from the poison or you simply finding a sense of calm for the first time in a good while, you don’t know but it nevertheless leads you to slowly give into unconsciousness.

the last thing you just barely manage catching is a feather-light kiss to your forehead and a tenderly spoken assurance,

“I’ll be back before you know it. I promise.”

who knows how long it’s been? probably no one, but long enough for the screen of your wristband to meet you with three now full, red hearts as soon as you wake up.

you stare at your hands curled up right in front of your face and even though your vision isn’t clear enough after sleeping, you can still make out how they’re free from bruises, wounds and dusts. furthermore, it’s quiet. uncomfortably quiet, purely because you’re not used to a sound clean from explosions and other rumbling noises. it confuses you for a second and you start wondering if there’s been a restart. however, realizing that you’re still in the same, unknown bedroom as before and remembering that you have yet to go through the ending of the game, you know it’s still not over.

barely daring to look away from your hands even the slightest bit, you think for yourself, “if it’s not over, what’s going o-”

“finally up, sleeping beauty?”

a sharp gasp emits from you as you hear this and within moments, you’re sitting back up in the bed. by the edge of it, he sits; the window invites the morning sun you haven’t seen in what feels like a lifetime, its light illuminating his face in gentle shade of orange; a smile graces his lips and even under strands of hair, the gleam in his eyes is clear, bright upon finally seeing your own open.

four seconds. that’s what it takes for you to process that, as unfamiliar as this scene is after playing the game so many times, it actually is minho sitting right next to you, in person, pure flesh and blood. four seconds is what it takes until you launch yourself at him, arms tightly wrapping around his neck, face digging into the crook of it.

you take a deep breath, inhaling the scent you’ve grown fond of after spending so much time with minho. when you don’t say anything, he asks, “don’t wanna know what happened?”

you shake your head. “I don’t care.”

an airy chuckle escapes minho. his arms wrap around your waist and hold you closer to him and while starting to explain anyway, he unconsciously starts swinging your bodies from side to side. “believe it or not, that stupid player unlocked the secret ending.”

though confused, you don’t bother moving the slightest bit while humming in confusion. he doesn’t either and instead continues, “turns out if you beat the game in critical mode and gather all trophies, you unlock the secret ending.”

“and... what exactly happens in the secret ending?”

“in the secret ending...” minho murmurs, “the whole team survives.” as if on cue, loud yelling and laughters can suddenly be heard outside the bedroom. you’re barely aware of it though as he pulls away, just enough to get a look of your face. “the city can rebuild again...” he momentarily glances to the side where the window shows an unusually peaceful view. you follow his gaze, though only until his index finger and thumb takes a hold of your chin, turning you back to face him. “and you and me...”

with the current being through and through unknown to you, you find yourself growing more nervous than ever. when his thumb just barely grazes your bottom lip, your breath hitches and hands drop down to his shoulders, tightly grabbing onto them.

the time minho spends on leaning closer feels painfully long and yet, you’re barely aware of exactly when the barely existent gap eventually is shut. his lips are soft against your own, slowly moving against them. the feeling of it alters between the one of featherlight, pure pecks and long, passionate kisses and you can swear it’ll drive you insane right there and then.

you don’t though. instead, you can only melt under the touch, the loving hold around you leaving you in a serenity in the finest sense of the word.

when you eventually part, minho’s hand travels upwards to tuck stray hair behind your ear as he looks at you with a smile bigger than you’ve ever seen on him,

“stay together.”

maybe, just maybe, this game isn’t so bad after all.

[deans-baby-momma]

Mommy’s (Not So) Good Girl-Ch 16

A/N: My home computer wanted to be a butt today and kept restarting, even when I was no where near it. So I apologize that this update is so late. 

"Yea. Dean, I am so sorry. I-"

"You let him fuck you?"

"No," I answer.

"Yea, like I can believe that," he scoffs. "Abby, I saw the video. I saw you grinding on him. Don't try to deny it. No boy in his right mind is going to resist something so freely offered."

"We didn't fuck," I try again, begging for him to trust me. "You are still the only one I've been with."

The silence in the garage is deafening as I stare at him, wordlessly pleading that he understand that I am telling the truth. 

"That's good to know," Dean says, finally conceding with a sigh. "But Abby you could've messed up everything."

"I know," I say low, hanging my head.

"If you had said my name at any point in that video," he pauses and sighs. "We would've both been in a world of trouble."

"I know." I still won't look at him.

"Lis bout went ballistic hearing you talk like that. Practically interrogated me, trying to find out who Daddy is."

My head snaps up at that. "Wha-what did you say?"

"I played dumb, of course. I told her I had no idea."

"Thanks for that I guess," I tell him, a small grin on my lips.

"Hey, I was covering my ass too baby."

The smile on my face grows as he calls me by my pet name for the first time since this whole debacle began.

"I'm still your baby?" I ask, hopeful.

"Of course," he answers smiling back at me. "Which is why Daddy got so pissed seeing you rubbing his pussy all over that kid."

My whole body heats up and I step closer to him.

"Still your pussy Daddy."

"Damn right," he says as he reaches out his hand toward me. I take it and he pulls my body to his. "Now, let's talk about your punishment."

"But Daddy," I whined. "I didn't…."

"No, but you wanted to. Were going to. And I had to watch it. You've been very naughty,  lil girl."

I nod and look up at him through my lashes. "So you gonna spank me?"

"Well," he says, dragging the word out. "Since you seem to have a big mouth and like to tell all your friends about me….You're gonna use that mouth to suck Daddy's cock until he cums down your throat."

I smile as Dean steps back and pulls me around to the other side of his car

"On your knees little girl," he demands and I hit the floor.

I watch as Dean unbuttoned and unzips his jeans, opening them and reaching in, pulling his member out. 

"Now put those loose lips of yours to good use."

I lick my lips as I wrap my fingers around the base of his dick.  Talking a deep breath, I open my mouth and let him slide in.

Dean's flavor hits my taste buds and I moan obscenely loud. I have missed his taste, the heft of his cock on my tongue,  the tip breaching my throat as I take more of him in. 

Dean begins panting above me while my head bobs on him. He places a hand on the top of my head and splays his fingers across the crown, putting slight pressure there. 

"God, I missed that mouth!" Dean exclaims in a whisper. 

I smile as best as I can with a fat cock between my lips. Hollowing my cheeks, I suck as he begins thrusting his hips, pushing further and deeper into my throat.

"Holy shit! Fuck, I'm gonna-"

He gets cut off when my mom knocks and steps into the garage. "Dean, hon? You out here?"

I immediately take my mouth off him and drop to the floor, looking up at him wide-eyed.  Holy fuck!

He nods his head to the side, silently telling me to crawl around the back of his car.  I hurriedly do as he suggests, sitting on the floor, hopefully out of sight.

My heart's beating erratically and it's hard to breathe, but I hold it in, barely exhaling through my nose.

"Dean?!" My mom chuckles. "Are you seriously out here jerking off?"

"Uh…...yea?" Dean answers sheepishly. 

"Need some help?" Mom asks and I have to suppress the urge to gag. If only Mom knew that it was my saliva on his dick! 

"Uh…..not here. It's all dirty and greasy and smelly out here, let's take this inside," Dean suggests and I hear the audible sound of his zipper being done up.

I wait until I know good and well that they've made their way back inside and to their room before I move.

I walk back in the house,  knowing it is going to be another night of hearing Dean and Mom going at it, knowing that could've been me. 

Christmas break

Two days before Christmas, I pull into the driveway and my mouth falls open. The house that I grew up in and always had minimal decorations at this time of the year is decked out in lights everywhere. There are strings of lights around every window, the door and hanging from the eaves. 

Mom has never been a big fan of this holiday and to see the house decorated as inanely as it is is bizarre and insane. In the picture window of the front room, there appears to be at least a 7 foot tree standing there with every limb decorated. There’s even a wreath on the front door!

Has my mom been possessed? Did someone, or something, take over my mom’s body and personality? Someone who is actually fond of Christmas. 

I walk into the house and can hear the rest of the family in the kitchen so I head that way. As soon as I walk in, I see Dean at the stove stirring eggs, Ben is setting the table and Mom is getting everyone’s drinks.

“Hey Abs,” she says as she passes by Dean who almost hits her with the pan of eggs when he turns around. 

“Who are you all and what have you done with my family?” I ask, astonished. The three of them laugh and, after sitting the drinks on the table, Mom comes over and hugs me.

“We’re making breakfast, silly.”

“Ooookay,” I say, still shocked at the sight before me. Dean looks over and winks as he serves the food onto individual plates. 

“Want some?” he asks. “I made plenty.”

The four of us sit at the table and enjoy the food, which apparently was all made by the man sitting at the head of the table.

“So, what’s up with all the deco? We have never celebrated Christmas like this.”

“A new tradition,” mom says. “Dean’s family didn’t ever celebrate and we’ve never really, so I thought it was time for us to start.”

I look between the three of them and then nod my head. They all look so happy and jovial. Okay, then new tradition I guess.

“Food’s good,” I say, changing the subject and looking toward Dean, who just smiles shyly.

“Yea, who knew Dean could cook!” my usual silent-unless-he’s-playing-a-game brother pipes up.  I look at him, wide-eyed and surprised he said words to us, to me. “What? It’s true.” he says and then goes back to eating.

Later that afternoon, Mom comes into my room while I’m reading and sits at the foot of the bed. I close my book and sit up. “What’s up?”

“I think Dean is going to propose,” she says nonchalantly and then looks at me and I can see the excitement in her eyes. 

‘What? No! He can’t propose...no, no no!’ I think to myself but force a smile on my face.

“Oh my god! That’s great,” I lie, convincingly because then Mom goes into a diatribe about how someone has seen Dean at the jeweler’s in the next town over for a week straight, everyday. 

“I mean, it has to be because he is trying to get the ring perfect, right?” She asks, the hope in her voice evident. 

“Sure. Yea, I’m sure that’s what it is,” I continue my fibbing. I hug her although my heart is breaking. 

The next morning, Christmas eve, I wake up and am met with the same thing as yesterday. We all gather in the kitchen and sit down for a family breakfast, this time the scrambled eggs are red and green. I quirk an eyebrow at Dean when he sits the plate in front of me and he smiles. “Food coloring. It’s festive,” he tells me and when I keep looking at him like he’s got a second head he rolls his eyes. “Just eat ba-Abby.!” He winks and then continues to give everyone else their plate.

The food is delicious again today. Ben was right when he claimed Dean could cook. Is there anything this man isn’t good at?!

As we are finishing up, Mom begins to discuss what is still needed for tomorrow’s dinner and Dean offers to go to the store for her. 

“Wanna go with me?” he asks, looking at me. I can tell he is silently pleading for me to agree so I nod.

On the way to the store, Dean turns his truck down a street I know for sure isn’t a shortcut or a faster way to the grocer’s.

“Um, De? Where’re you going?” I ask, a laugh in my voice.

“Just wait a second. There’s something I have to do.”

Dean pulls off to the side of the road into a wide spot where there is no traffic and not a single house in sight.

“If you brought me out here to kill me-” I begin but Dean starts laughing. 

“I didn’t bring you out here to kill you baby.” He reaches over and opens the glove compartment. Pulling out a brown paper bag, he sits it in his lap.

“I wanted to give you your present, just the two of us.”

Oh. OH!

I watch as he pulls a rectangular blue velvet box out of the bag and looks at it for a moment. I can see the name of the jeweler’s on the lid. The same one that he apparently frequented for a week straight. 

“Baby,” he pauses and then hands the box toward me. “Here. Merry Christmas.”

I take the box in my hand, the velvet is soft to touch. I slowly flip open the lid and my mouth drops at what is inside.

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss​ @spnbaby-67​ @tftumblin​ @sea040561​ @delightfullykrispypeach​ @larajadeschmidt13​ @vicariouslythruspn​ @squirrelnotsam​ @death-unbecomes-you​ @sandlee44​ @blacktithe7​ @deanwanddamons​ @hoboal87​ @marvelfanbrenda​ @vicmc624​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @elliloumom @stoneyggirl​

[freewheelshippin]

FIC: “What Do I Call You?”

There was something so honest about how she hyped the crowd, leaned so forward she seemed like she might leap into a crowdwalk, pointing at her ear until the whole crowd bellowed in their own guttoral harmony. And she smiled so much at her crewmates -- Ranmaru realized he was smiling, too, while she played guitar and accompanied the others’ solos, only breaking from her deep sway with the music to look at them with brightness and joy in her eyes. 

In those moments, Ranmaru understood something he hadn’t before, but it also made him realize that the hunger in him wasn’t being sated so much as it was deepening. 

So! I had some fun writing for the roleswap AU, where I’m the punk rock idol and Ranmaru’s the freelance artist getting some juice from all the love and music.

Not much by ways of content warnings -- lots of eating, a fair amount of alcohol, too, and you know, we utter the word ‘fuck’ a few times.  

Ranmaru swore as he dropped the case on his toe. He could tell immediately that this was one of those jammed toes that would hurt for days from the bruising, especially when he still had half of the city to cross before he could get back home. And what was home? His shithole apartment and limping around while he went on his rounds for the local cats? 

At least the train was empty enough he could sit alone, even comfortably with all his equipment. He was still cross that the live house didn’t have it themselves. Weren’t they professionals? Stupid. The show had sucked, too, with the band spending more time fucking around then putting on the damn show they were paid for, that their fans came out to see, that Ranmaru had put such care into getting the tech just right to enhance. And that one jackass trying to throw hands with anyone in the crowd. Nobody on staff did a fucking thing to kick him out until Ranmaru dragged him out himself, and now he had a black eye and the stink of shitty beer and stale cigarette smoke hanging on him to show for it.

Thirty minutes ‘til his stop. He could listen to some music to smooth over this shitty...everything. He slipped his headphones on, ready to mute the rest of the world and stop anyone from entering his. 

Reiji (12:42 AM) : Iiiiiiiiiit’s dropped!!!!!

What, your balls, Ranmaru thought ruefully to himself, unconsciously clicking his tongue in annoyance. He moved his finger to swipe and mute him for … a week, maybe, from how shitty he was feeling right now, but Reiji was too fast. The link appeared, and Ranmaru hit it, if only to have something concrete to be annoyed with him for. 

It was a preview for a new PV. That’s right. It was technically tomorrow already, the day this content was due, but this was still early. Reiji must have found a leak. Lucky he was such an otaku, Ranmaru never had to go hunting for sketchy files or talk with weirdos he knew he wouldn’t be able to level with outside of the crowd. There was a long windup before the music even started playing, the visuals building dramatic lighting and obscuring anything but their silhouettes, but there was the low fuzz of an amp before it all hit at once. 

Ranmaru didn’t want to admit that his eyes darted right to that flash of turquoise as the lights came up in the PV, because it would mean that he might’ve smiled at just the sight of her. No, it had to be the sound. That clean, driving guitar, that strong bass, it felt like Deep Purple and Iron Maiden, but pushed to be danceable and idol-friendly with synth and a digital drumkit beat Ranmaru could vaguely recognize parts of.  

His toe and face didn’t stop hurting and body didn’t stop aching, but he stopped feeling so mad about it for the minute he watched and listened. There was professional polish there he’d missed seeing at the shitshow that was tonight’s gig, but there was still that rawness there of a good, irreplaceable concert. Something less precise than other idol groups’ practiced, saccharine perfection, but Ranmaru found it more welcoming than any other group he’d seen or worked with. 

The camera cut to a focus shot. Her hair was as bright as ever, styled like she were one of those princely girls from anime, just somehow made real, and she turned to look right at him-- 

Reiji (12:44 AM) : Ranran~~ how are you liking your girlfriend in this one :3c 

Ranmaru actually growled a little. He only realized he had been smiling because of how intensely he frowned at that bastard, barging into his texts --  

Ranmaru (12:44 AM): shut the fuck up and let me watch it. don’t call her that   

Reiji (12:44 AM): Isn’t she doing all the things you like??? 

Reiji (12:45 AM): So handsome! So rock! So passionate!

Reiji (12:45 AM): Feels tailor made for you ;o 

Ranmaru (12:45 AM): I told you to shut the fuck up. go text natsuki if you have to annoy someone

Reiji (12:46 AM): Aww Ranran did the show go bad? :(

Reiji (12:46 AM): But I already did, you know! And I’ve already gotten twice as many sparkly sticker replies than texts you’ve sent me in the past week!!! 

(He had to admit he laughed a little at that. Reiji was probably getting another onslaught as he was typing, his own push notifications as clogged as he was making Ranmaru’s.) 

Ranmaru (12:47 AM): I’m muting notifs since you won’t learn how to fucking shut up 

Reiji (12:47 AM): ohhhh she’s getting ranran’s full attention~! You must really like this preview, huh? I guess it’s true love 

Ranmaru (12:48 AM): WILL YOU SHUT UP ALREADY   

Reiji (12:48 AM): You’re right, I should, I should be listening for wedding bells! 

Ranmaru (12:48 AM): go make out with your gacha girlfriend body pillow and leave me alone 

Ranmaru (12:49 AM): hypocrite 

He finally muted all his notifications. An hour should be enough to ride it out, he thought as he settled a little into the hard plastic of the seat, restarting the video. The anger from the past couple hours melted away as he watched, uninterrupted, and replayed it with eyes closed as the sound flowed in through his headphones and released the tension in his body bit by bit. 

--- 

The hour ran out when Ranmaru was squatting over an especially runty kitten, eating noisily while the others watched from a couple feet away. Why stray cats could understand him better than anyone else when he said to piss off, he’d never know. He swiped around to turn his notifications back off for the rest of the night before pocketing his phone again. 

“...Oi. Slow down.” He pulled the plate of food away from the kitten. It shook with hiccups as it watched carefully, almost fearfully, before it pounced back onto the food, gobbling it down like it was going to be its last meal. Ranmaru sighed but couldn’t blame the little thing. He dumped out the last of the food, gave the rest of the cats one last look as he stood up to walk away, and he heard the frenzied scratch of their claws against the pavement as they swarmed the plates of food. 

 Maybe it wasn’t so much they understood him as he understood them. To hunger like that, both literally and for something less physical but just as carnal.  

He plugged his headphones back in, listening to the leaked preview a few more times on his way back to the apartment. 

--

He liked this group to begin with mostly because of her. She dressed, talked, and acted more like someone from a band than an idol, and something about that felt weirdly familiar and good. The rest of the group were more unique than a lot of other idols -- you’d expect that from a unit made up of a pack of ragtag international recruits, sure, but it was refreshing how they’d made everything about their presence wholly their own. 

Hers just made the most sense to him. The brashness, the way she talked about music, the way she performed, it all felt like someone who was chasing and understood the same things he did. She even said her music was about giving people power in an interview Reiji’d dug up for him. 

“Beyond language, or the way words reach people,” she’d said in decent but definitely non-native Japanese; she’d grown up some in Okinawa while her family lived on the military base, but mostly shuttled between America and Bangkok before getting recruited by chance here. “I want to give everyone a home that makes them feel strong through my music.” 

He wondered, dimly, as he took a hot shower and stared down at his swollen red toe, if he felt drawn to the group because he wanted that for himself, or because it reminded him why he kept picking up jobs that made him as angry as tonight’s did. 

He went to bed that night with an ice pack balanced on his swollen eye, the frustration more or less passed as he listened to the classic bands that new song reminded him of. 

--- 

He woke up to his phone buzzing, the hold on push notifications finally expired, and he murmured in bewilderment at just how many there were. Not just from Reiji, but Natsuki, too. 

Rather than try and parse whatever the hell happened while he was asleep, Ranmaru just went into the group chat well after he’d gotten himself breakfast. 

Ranmaru (9:28 AM): what the hell happened last night that you had to blow up my phone 

Natsuki (9:30 AM): Maru-chan-senpai! Ah! You’re alive!!!! 

Ranmaru (9:31 AM): I just went to bed is all 

(“Why the hell are you calling me ‘senpai’?” Ranmaru had asked him, and Natsuki had looked at him with those big dopey eyes and earnestly said since he’d been a fan longer, he was naturally Natsuki’s senpai, and any protest Ranmaru made never stuck.) 

Reiji supplied a link without any fanfare, introduction, or goofy dramatics, which almost startled Ranmaru. 

Notice (posted by Ootori Eiichi x/xx/xx): 

We are currently seeking an emergency replacement sound/stage technician for performances at the following dates and locations. Inquire immediately. [PAID] 

Ranmaru stared at the listing, barely processing the lurch in his stomach that came from just reading it. It was for them. That act. The debut mini-tour for that new single. It’d take rearranging his sound editing queue and massaging some deadlines, but he could feasibly make all of those dates and times.

He thought for a moment of doing that sound check, and seeing for himself the electric energy of that live. Of working with that group whose respect for their audience he personally felt, of watching her prepare, having to talk directly to her as she tuned her guitar....

There was the very real possibility that it’d prove everything he believed about them - about her, really, that ethos he was drawn to - was just smoke and mirrors, too. 

Natsuki (9:35 AM): Can you do it, Maru-chan-senpai? 

Reiji (9:36 AM): Ranran, you have to do it. 

Ranmaru (9:36 AM): this is just a listing, just because I ask doesn’t mean it’ll go through 

There was a long pause, where everyone went on and off typing, never actually saying anything, and he frowned. 

Ranmaru (9:40 AM): can you all just fucking say what you’re thinking already 

Natsuki (9:42 AM): You really love their magic and energy, I just wanted to say I hope you do it and get it because your heart wants it! 

Reiji (9:45 AM): Yes, Nacchan, you said it! Ranran, I’ll give you all the free bento you need to keep your tummy full to go do this! 

Ranmaru (9:45 AM): don’t fucking do that, reiji, you’ll just piss of your sister. I’ll buy them myself

Ranmaru (9:45 AM): assuming I even do this 

Reiji (9:46 AM): I really think you should. 

Reiji (9:46 AM): Not because we want the insider scoop. But because when’s the last time you had fun at a live you worked? 

Ranmaru could curse Reiji where he stood. Whenever he stopped fucking around and got to his point, it was always a good one. 

---

He got the job, somehow, after a little emailing back-and-forth and negotiating the contract. Now he was on a train to Yokohama for the first gig, his case packed full, his backpack stuffed with supplies for a week. Comping travel, hotel, and meals was enough to take the job, even if it paid like ass, but it didn’t. The contract was actually pretty decent. They -- or, well, at least that Ootori guy -- were upfront that he’d be worked hard, the hours were going to be long, and there wasn’t going to be much room for rest or leisure. But the pay was good. Enough that if he had a dryspell of jobs afterwards, he’d be okay for longer than usual. 

It was worth it for other reasons, though, he thought to himself, stuffing spare merch he’d gotten in blindbags (and a couple other last-minute buys he didn’t tell the others about) into a bottom corner of his suitcase. None of it was of her, none of it for him. Something felt unprofessional spending this job acting like a fan, but at least there wasn’t any harm grabbing some signatures for friends who never made it to meet-and-greets. 

The single was out properly, now, and so was the PV. There was a section of it he especially liked and had gotten into the habit of watching on train rides, where she broke out of the dance routine to put her arms around her teammates, grin a dumb grin, and kick her legs high. It cut to a different shot of the group in different costumes but perfect sync, and when it cut back to that first shot, she stumbled and fell right on her ass, dragging the others down with her. Still grinning stupidly, and singing through it all. 

She didn’t take many vocal solos. She only had one line in this song to herself, and she was singing with the whole group for this shot. He read in an interview she wasn’t happy with the tone quality of her voice yet -- it needed to be richer, and she still needed plenty of training before it reached what her teammates and audience deserved. 

Ranmaru told himself, as the train was minutes away from the station, that this had to be the last time he watched this video and listened to the song like this. At least for the duration of this job. Every time he watched that shot, as she kept singing and the rest of the group tumbled down with her with the same dumb grin she wore, he knew in his gut the voice she sang in must’ve sounded like the soul of rock. Even if that gesture were directed and performed, there was still something genuine there that reminded him of those moments at concerts that convinced him to walk the path he did. 

Maybe he’d get to see it live. Maybe he wouldn’t. But he had to stop imagining it. She - this whole group, rather - was about to become real, and whether or not everything he imagined would turn out to just be something he made up to deal with his shit, he had a job to do. 

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

He had a chance to leave his clothes and belongings in the hotel before heading to the live house. Ranmaru was unsure why this Ootori guy had picked him. He didn’t have an exactly long resume with idol shows, but then again, this was a group that debuted without any typical idol sound. There wasn’t any gimmick to them (Ranmaru wouldn’t call being made up of foreigners much of a gimmick when it came to the music), and they weren’t afraid of reaching into all sorts of genres he more typically worked with. 

Right as he got to the live house, his phone rumbled with back-to-back notifications. 

Reiji (5:48 PM): Ranran~!!! Ganbarimachochho from us! 

Ranmaru wouldn’t deign the attached selfie with a response right now (he was about to work, after all), but he felt himself suppressing a smile. Reiji was sticking his tongue out and making a victory sign, Natsuki further in the background, half-buried in stuffed animals and doing the same. They were going to be streaming the event for special-tier fanclub members like REIJI, which Ranmaru had always harangued him for. If he was a fan, wasn’t it enough to just cheer their hearts out live, enjoy their music, buy a CD and shirt, and feel the energy they had to give that way? 

(He still pored over the behind-the-scenes and advance material Reiji forwarded to him and Natsuki regardless. Sometimes he translated the English from their social media accounts, even. It was satisfying, as stupid as it felt sometimes, to do those little things in between the real shows.) 

He’d never been to the live house before, but it had the same vibes as so many others he’d been to. He found the back entrance effortlessly, where a man with glasses almost took him by surprise. 

“Kurosaki?” he asked. His gaze felt just as intense as all the other communication they’d had over e-mail. 

“Ootori,” he grunted back. 

“You’re early,” Eiichi replied, grinning at Ranmaru. Not that it surprised him in the slightest, but it made him look less approachable and instead even more intense. “Good. I like that in a recruit.” 

Ranmaru gritted his teeth quietly. This guy was going to be an absolute bastard, he could feel it, but at least he seemed like he knew how to run a show. “Don’t say that like I joined your agency. Tell me where the group’s at with setup, and I’ll get started.” 

 Eiichi’s eyes glinted from behind his glasses. He looked too satisfied with himself for Ranmaru’s taste. “I liked how you didn’t beat around the bush when you reached out for the job, and it’s good to see you hold to it. They’re rehearsing in the space, but we still have equipment to unload and cues to sync. You read the notes I sent you, I trust.” 

“All forty fuckin’ pages of it.” Ranmaru left out that he’d actually found it pretty impressive, appreciating the thoroughness and ambition of the show for a smaller group and venue. “Are we going to stand around shooting the shit or are we going to get started working on them?” 

Eiichi laughed at that. Ranmaru wasn’t sure if it pissed him off or made him feel eager to get to work. 

“This way,” he said, showing him to a van stuffed full of equipment. 

------ 

Ranmaru went straight to the live house staff to start doing his work. The master controls were kept in a little room that overlooked the stage. His gut flipped when he first saw them all, rehearsing some specific-looking choreography that needed to adjust to a new stage.  He wasn’t about to let that interrupt work. This was just like any other job, except he liked the performers a whole lot more, and things progressed like any other job. Until she looked dead at him from the stage, calling out. 

“Heeeeey,” she said. “Scuse me, are you the new tech guy?” 

“Yeah.” Ranmaru forced the feeling rising in his throat back down (as much as he could with sheer willpower, anyway). “Whaddya want?” 

“I just wanted to ask your name! We gotta call you something!” 

“Ranmaru,” he answered, hoping dearly that whatever he felt burning on his face was hidden by the dim lighting. 

“Cool, OK. Ranmaru-san,” she continued cheerfully. Ranmaru felt his chest tighten as he heard his name on her lips. “Are we queued up enough that we can do this number with music?” 

“This is the one for the new single, right,” he called back. He took a look at the levels, gain, and so forth as they were and instinctively nudged the knobs where the countless plays of that new song told him to. He’d imagined the vision of its stage presence for weeks. “I’m gonna test out some different settings for the levels ‘n stuff while you do that.” 

She made an expression of surprise as it came on. Delight, even, as she rode out into the following beats. Ranmaru couldn’t help crooking into his own smile, satisfied his know-how just helped that vision become a little bit brighter. She flashed him a thumbs up, then a gesture to pause, still grinning. 

“Can we take it from the top? Five, six, seven, eight---” 

-------- 

Ranmaru had never felt this sort of contradiction. She was restringing her acoustic guitar, from steel to nylon strings, as she hummed and practiced segments of songs, and Ranmaru was adjusting amplifiers and other equipment on the stage nearby. His head swam with the thought and excitement they were sharing the same stage, even just as a tech and pre-show performer, but approaching her felt like being both sides of a magnet at once. 

But that push and pull gave way, eventually, as the guitar finished being re-strung and tuned, and the humming turned into full-on singing. Ranmaru fought desperately to make sure he wasn’t just confirming what he’d already imagined, to just appreciate her live voice on its own merits and flaws. But he could feel in his chest that that character, that quality he’d responded so much to was there, that even with some lacking technical skill, there was still a rich tone color you could only get with passion and the spirit for rock. 

“You doing any solos tonight?” he asked in English. 

“Hm?” She looked caught by surprise. 

Ranmaru answered, already anticipating the question. “I’m half-American. I speak it fluently enough.” 

“Well, shit,” she said with a grin. “That’s convenient for us. I mean, I don’t mind Japanese if it’s easier…” 

“‘Sfine. Do what you want. I won’t complain about the practice, though.” 

She chuckled. “Man, maybe losing our usual guy from the agency was a stroke of good luck.” 

Ranmaru laughed challengingly. “Say that after the show goes well. And you still haven’t answered my question.” 

“Oh, uh. Right. Not really? Why do you ask?” 

“Why not?” 

She took a moment and laughed brightly in reply. Ranmaru could practically hear the insecurity she was covering up. 

“‘Cuz we’re an idol group.” 

Ranmaru gestured and murmured in vague acknowledgement. “You still have less solo lines than everyone else.” 

“Oh, do I,” she replied flatly, going back to her guitar, trimming overhanging strings. “I guess you would know, now that you’ve gotta manage all our sound.” 

“I just think it’s stupid you’ve clearly got your own voice but can’t think of sharing it without hiding behind everyone else’s.” 

She looked up at him incredulously. “Ranmaru-san, right?” 

“...Just call me Ranmaru.” 

“Alright, Ranmaru.” She looked at him again. Somehow when she looked at him dead-on this time, nothing went to mush inside of him. “Don’t fucking talk to me like our group voice isn’t the backbone of everything we’re trying to do.” 

“Nothing’s wrong with your group voice,” he shot back, getting heated. “It’s good. I can feel the soul behind it all, even when you’re rehearsing.” 

“So why are you fucking complaining?” She was still smiling, laying cheer and energy over her growing frustration. “Is there something you wanna say to me about my crew’s voices?” 

“They’re fine!” he barked back, frustrated she wasn’t getting his point. “This isn’t about them! You have something your audience is gonna be lit on fire hearing more of, that’s all!”  

Some eyes were starting to fall on them, but Ranmaru could barely notice them over the way her chest rose sharply and her expression became inscrutible. 

“...how about,” she said, speaking slowly as she deliberately, diplomatically pulled out her words, switching back to Japanese. “You save any notes you have for after the show.” 

“......Sure.” His stomach flipped again, more intensely and more painfully than the last few times. He went back to fussing with the amp, and she laid the pliers she’d trimmed her strings with on it before heading backstage until the show started. 

--- 

The show was electric. Ranmaru couldn’t say he was the right audience for most idol groups -- not so much out of distaste as much as incompatibility, he guessed. The way Reiji and Natsuki would lose their minds over their favorites’ cheerful cuteness or the kindness in their voices, Ranmaru wouldn’t. The fanatical, cult-of-personality devotion some other idols could curate with otaku-types, he didn’t connect with, either. What spoke to him was passion, backed by steely sounds and the sweat behind them; the excitement and fervor of rock and a crowd stinking of sweat; how well you could make someone scream themselves hoarse for that one, shining moment without any care for how sore they’d feel the next morning. 

Maybe it was the adrenaline from earlier, but when he could look away from the tech, he felt that here, too. There was no drum or bass player onstage, but he could still feel the beat thrum through his chest and rumble through his bones until his breath quickened, like he were jumping and dancing with the crowd. There was joy in their teamwork. In how they shaped their bodies together in song and in voice, and pushing and pulling the spotlight until it was something brighter, something shared and tangible between them and the audience.

His eyes fell on her. What should he call her? She had a stage name in Thai, but she was open that wasn’t her given name or anything friends and family called her. “Aroon” was just something she picked so she could wear her heritage proudly. It meant ‘dawn,’ it sounded cooler, more idol-ish than her Western name, which wasn’t a secret, by any means, but he heard her called by so many versions of it, none felt real. 

It only felt so weird because seeing her onstage, he felt far beyond any confirmation bias he could’ve had that the person he’d seen in the PV’s was every bit as real as he’d hoped. He saw someone who didn’t just fit on stage, but relished and grew like a plant in the hot lights burning down on them. There was something so honest about how she hyped the crowd, leaned so forward she seemed like she might leap into a crowdwalk, pointing at her ear until the whole crowd bellowed in their own guttoral harmony. And she smiled so much at her crewmates -- Ranmaru realized he was smiling, too, while she played guitar and accompanied the others’ solos, only breaking from her deep sway with the music to look at them with brightness and joy in her eyes. 

In those moments, Ranmaru understood something he hadn’t before, but it also made him realize that the hunger in him wasn’t being sated so much as it was deepening. 

They got cheered back on for an encore. And towards the end of that last song, Ranmaru watched as she broke choreography to literally lift the one Natsuki was convinced was a fairy, spinning them around as the practiced moves dissolved into joyful chaos. The whole group ended the song arm in arm, sloppily holding mics for each other as they alternately laughed, belted, fumbled, and shouted thank-yous into the audience.

Ranmaru still felt something tug at him as the mic got held in front of her, she grabbed it, and handed it to someone else. Just sing, damn it, he thought to himself. It didn’t matter if it was perfect, it just mattered that it was hers. 

Didn’t she realize she deserved to be adored the same way she wanted the rest of her group to be? 

Ranmaru cut everything as they filtered offstage, staggering and softening the mics as they put them back and let them go. He took a deep, sighing breath in and out, almost like he’d been holding it for the entire concert, as his stomach growled. 

Maybe he should’ve taken some more of Reiji’s bento, after all, and give Natsuki’s cookies another try.  

-------- 

They closed up quickly. With the group no longer bound by rehearsal, takedown went faster than ever, and there wasn’t any meet-and-greet at today’s venue. Ranmaru dimly considered looking at the merch table, but he had a week to do that and had other things to finish with today’s closeup, anyway. 

He could hear the group discussing amongst themselves in English about where to go for a late dinner celebrating a good show.

“I want chicken,” she pleaded. “Is there one of those Taiwanese shops where you can get boba and chicken around here? You know, the kind that comes in a little bag and a toothpick?” 

Eiichi approached them, and she started to repeat herself in Japanese before he asked to interrupt her. 

“We’re all headed to the izakaya two blocks from here,” he announced to everyone. “I’ve already called ahead to reserve the space. Consider it a reward for a triumph of the first show on tour.” 

“But is there chicken,” she repeated in Japanese in mock desperation as she mussed her own hair, fussing it out of the careful styling she’d had it in for hours. 

Ranmaru’s phone buzzed from the notifications he missed, shutting them off for the duration of the show. Mostly from Natsuki and Reiji. He scrolled through the groupchat as they reacted live to the stream and tried to compliment Ranmaru on managing sound so well, though he was sure it couldn’t have possibly made much of a difference for the stream. 

Ranmaru (11:37 PM): it was a killer show, wasn’t it 

Ranmaru (11:37 PM): they’re talking about craving chicken right now. Guess it’s too bad we don’t have a kotobuki bento branch around here. 

Ranmaru (11:38 PM): i could go for a kara-age bento 

Reiji (11:38 PM): Ranran….! 

Natsuki (11:39 PM): Waaaah~! I hope you find some kara-age soon and share it with your shining star! 

Ranmaru immediately locked the phone after that. His stomach somersaulted once more time. He stood by what he said to her earlier, but he couldn’t imagine she’d want to talk after the way things had gone. Better to leave the group to that postshow glow, feed himself, and head back to the hotel. 

--------- 

The room was swimming just a little. Ranmaru blearly looked at his phone, trying to ignore the fact that he’d drank beyond his limit like an idiot. He knew he was like this, so why did he keep downing beer after beer? He’d gotten too used to needing as much as he could stomach to tolerate Reiji’s antics (and, he knew dimly, he was just too used to being able to rely on him once he’d hit his limit). 

She was seated right across from him, because of course she was, but they didn’t exchange any words or even eye contact. She was entirely focused on the rest of the group and the meal itself, laughing loudly between boisterous stories and jokes and devouring whatever snacks she ordered. 

Ranmaru got up. He could make it back to the hotel by himself, probably. Nobody asked as he left, which was how he’d preferred things, right? 

If there was such thing as taking a desolate wizz, maybe this is what it felt like, he thought to himself as he dried his hands on his shirt and left the restroom to step outside. Just for a moment. Just to get some air. 

Eiichi followed him out. 

“Can I help you,” Ranmaru said roughly after Eiichi caught the door behind him. 

“Hardly.” He had the same look in his eye as before. “I thought I’d take the opportunity to say well done.” 

Ranmaru grunted. “You still have six more shows with me. Compliment me when I’ve nailed all of them.” 

“Hm. I’d certainly expect no less. But,” he continued, that grin going places Ranmaru especially didn’t like. “I can’t say that was what I was referring to.” 

Ranmaru looked at him suspiciously. 

“She’s been a tough nut to crack,” he continued. “I’m glad my instincts were right, Ranmaru Kurosaki, your brusqueness and deep experience with music laid her heart bare enough she recognized some changes she needed to make.” 

He didn’t think, and only saw red -- he couldn’t blame the alcohol entirely, but the haziness was enough that his brain needed a moment to catch up to his gut reaction. 

Eiichi laughed, unfazed by Ranmaru’s hands on his collar or snarling expression. 

“Bastard!” he barked. Eiichi’s eyes glinted behind his glasses. 

“I heard your little conversation. Do you not stand by those words?” 

“Of course I do,” Ranmaru snapped. 

“They reached her,” Eiichi cut in before Ranmaru could think of what to say next. “She’s already asking me about extra vocal training before the next recording sessions.” 

“She doesn’t need more training!” He threw Eiichi back, finally letting go. He barely needed any effort to recover, and Ranmaru just glared at him as he kept raising his voice. “And I’m not your for-hire music coach! Is this how you treat all your contractors, you rat bastard of a producer?!” 

He just laughed that laugh of his, making Ranmaru even angrier. “Your passion for music and straightforwardness was evident, even in your initial inquiry. It was just excellent luck your technical skills were just as useful for sending this idol group hurtling towards their fullest potential.” 

“If you want her to reach it, you’d tell her she doesn’t need any extra lessons. You’d just tell her she’s a great goddamn idol the way she is right now,” Ranmaru spat. “Trusting her voice is just what’ll make her into a better one.” 

“I hear some selfish intent in that, Kurosaki.” Eiichi looked like he was burning with excitement. “But that just means I can trust your intentions more than anyone. You speak as someone whose heart’s already been moved. A fan...a loyal follower who desires their success. Perhaps even more than she does.” 

“I’m going back to the hotel.” Ranmaru strode past him, feeling himself burn from top to bottom. He gave Eiichi one last look in the eye. “If you need me before the show tomorrow, find someone else.”  

------- 

The next day and next show went uneventfully. Now that he’d met the group at Yokohama, he was travelling with them in the cars and equipment vans, and he made a point of finding a back seat nobody wanted to share, stretching out, and napping the whole ride. The setup at the next live house was a pain in the ass with their unusual devices and systems, but Ranmaru was quietly grateful to have his hands full. He liked having a good reason for not wanting to talk to (scold) anyone but the live house staff itself. Being irritated they went for weird, cheap models with lower quality helped him double down on the attention needed to make the group shine. They collectively got ramen afterwards. The only words he exchanged all meal were with the one Reiji liked so much, ferrying his ramen order for him when he got frustrated with the shop crowd and left to go wait outside. 

(He’d have to find a way to talk with her later about Reiji. Not just for the autograph -- he opened up his phone, ignoring any notifications that weren’t his work email, and messaged him. 

Ranmaru (9:42 PM): send me a pic of your Mae shrine 

Reiji (9:45 PM): ehh? Ranran, what for? 

Ranmaru (9:50 PM): just send it 

Dutifully, Reiji did. Ranmaru couldn’t have imagined he really had no idea what he planned to do with it, but if he wasn’t just playing dumb, at least he’d be getting one hell of a surprise.) 

It was during the third show that things started to happen a way he could scarcely believe. The show went pretty normally, except for one point where she stumbled badly enough during a complex turn she completely ate shit. But she played it off into something hammy and funny, rolling out of the way of the others, lying like she were posing in a cheesy beefcake calendar while she found the beat again to sing. 

Ranmaru still thought she needed to own up to her lack of courage and just sing more, but putting it like she was a coward was a mistake. He thought dimly to what Reiji had said that had convinced him -- “when was the last time you had fun working a stage like this?” And he wondered if he’d ever had fun onstage like he saw. He might’ve tasted the glory and passion of the stage, the delicious energy of the audience, and the power of rock -- he knew he did, he’d looked an easier, blander life in the eye and felt too desolate to walk that path, even with his inescapable debt. 

But it could be more fun. That audience could feel more, even more connected, that he could smile through mistakes when the performance came from camaraderie as much as passion and soul. Things could be better when they were shared beyond just the respect of an audience and a performer.

He didn’t realize he was smiling as much as he was until his cheeks were hurting, but that was also because he felt hungrier than he’d ever been.  

----

He couldn’t help calculating how many meals he’d be cutting into as the convenience store clerk rang up everything, even though he’d already gotten Eiichi to confirm he was going to expense him the bill and get refunded every cent. 

The show closed late. They had a special meet-and-greet he didn’t need to be around to handle, but none of them had had the chance to eat much outside of some spare snacks. He figured something fast and easy before they could collapse in the hotel would fit the bill. 

She wasn’t there when he went around knocking on the hotel room doors and delivering the goods. Gone out to relax on the roof, they said, and when they offered to hold her food, he said no, he’d take it right to her. 

The sound of the roof door opening looked like it startled her, and he didn’t know what else to do but hold up the bag full of food like a peace offering. 

“Eat something,” he said in English, tossing her a banana from the bag. She caught it before eyeing him up and down, then settled back to the outdoor lounge chair she’d been resting on. Ranmaru took a seat in the one across for her, setting the bag on the ground as he pulled the rest of the food out. She looked hesitant, only speaking until he’d laid everything out, even the drinks.

“...That smells good,” she said in Japanese. “What’s that, kara-age?” 

“I heard you guys were craving chicken.” 

 “I mean, I sure was. Thanks.”

“I told you English was fine,” he said, back to Japanese. 

“My Japanese is fine,” she said, tearing into the banana first. 

“Yeah, but if you’re tired of speaking outside of your native tongue,” Ranmaru started, already feeling himself get heated. “Why wouldn’t you take the chance to just rest?” 

She finished her bite of banana before giving him a look. “...If you insist.” 

They just sat in silence as she ate for a bit. 

“Is there something else you want from me?” she asked. She left half the kara-age and bottled tea.

“...No, not really. I wanted to say sorry for the other day, though.” 

“Ah.” She smiled knowingly, though she didn’t look happy about it. “Don’t worry about it. It sure isn’t the first or last time I’m gonna be criticized in this industry. I can handle it.” 

Ranmaru murmured in acknowledgement, not sure to what end making himself clear to would earn, but he had to, anyways. He stared down the half-full kara-age container. 

“...This is your goddamn food, you know.” He pushed it closer to her. “Eat it.” 

“Oh, you’re sure?” 

“I didn’t have a meet-and-greet that made me miss dinner. Do you really wanna work a tour on an empty stomach?” 

She scooped it up with a knowing ‘hmm’ and a half-smile. After polishing it off, she let out a heavy sigh. 

“You are right, though. I’m being a coward, not singing more.” 

“You’re not,” Ranmaru grumbled. 

“Sure,” she said dismissively. “But I guess I should apologize for getting so defensive. I thought you were just another macho shithead trying to talk the piss out of our group and the voice we have.” 

“That’s nothing to apologize for,” Ranmaru said resolutely. “....when I was in a band, I wish I’d had bandmates who’d do that kinda shit for me.” 

“Oh, shit, what’d you play?” 

“Vocals. Bass. Rock.” 

“Aw, c’mon, get more specific than that. Surf rock? Indie boy shoegaze? Folk punk with a little dash of polka?” 

Ranmaru gave her an incredulous look. “...Oi. Do I look like a polka guy?” 

She grinned widely, looking very satisfied with herself. “I dunno, you never know who’s got a secret accordion! I could see you, maybe you painted half of it, like, red to match that edgelord RPG hero heterochromia thing you got going.” 

Ranmaru grumbled, looking away. She laughed. “....I just like rock. If you had to pull my leg I guess I’d tell you hard rock. Maybe a little alt and prog.” 

“Ooh!” She exclaimed, barely letting the sip of tea get down her throat. “That’s the good shit! Did you ever record anything?”

Ranmaru hesitated. “...Yeah, but nothing that anyone can listen to anymore.” 

She seemed to understand without much more explanation. “...Well. You’re fucking good at the sound engineering side of things. Don’t tell management this -- or well, just don’t quote me on this --  but I like you a hell of a lot more than the guy we were supposed to have from the agency. He doesn’t know shit about how to make music that’s about soul and hype. It’s like, all one level the whole time, you know? Like it’s just sitting at an 8 the whole time, we don’t really get to do stuff like crescendos. Or like, punch someone in the dick by taking it from a three and shoot it to an eleven, you know?” 

“Yeah,” Ranmaru said, throwing a hand up. “What’s with that shit? There’s a bunch of stupid clients I had who were like that. Just one kind of loud, the whole album or concert through. What’s the fucking point if you aren’t gonna make people hear something other than just fuckin’ loud?” 

“Yeah! You get it!” she whooped, before she held her hand out for a fistbump. 

It surprised Ranmaru enough that it took a moment to register. But he smiled a little and pounded it. 

------

“Man-eating momma, steam-driven hammer

Sorts the men out from the boys--” 

She slid her arm around his waist, and he nearly choked on his beer. 

They were at Korean barbecue tonight, their own private room. The last meal, after the last concert, after the last meet-and-greet, after the last frantic merch sales. Ranmaru tried to buy himself a shirt, but instead was presented with a staff hoodie for the tour and a “one of everything” comp for the rest of the merch. They were now safely tucked with other goods he’d gotten signed for Reiji and Natsuki last night while everyone hung out in their big hotel suite. Hotel management made a mistake and upgraded the whole crew to their biggest room with extra cots to fit them all, and they spent the entire post show in a dizzying, joyful, communal haze. Ranmaru even told stories of the embarrassing depths of his groupchat’s devotion to the group and each of their favorites, and everyone took turns recording chaotic, personalized videos for Ranmaru to share later. They fell asleep at a truly stupid hour, and Ranmaru wondered if this is what having sleepovers as a kid felt like. 

“Takes no messing, all-in wrestling

Is one of her pride and joys” 

Ranmaru recognized the words as she pulled him closer, swaying after slamming her beer to the table. Maybe less the tune, since that was being yelled more than sung. 

“She's a classy, flashy lassy

Imitation sapphire shine-- c’mon, dude, you know!” She looked at him expectantly. She was very, very flushed, and at this point, he had to be, too. 

“We’re not at a karaoke bar!” he barked. 

“Where’s all that ‘you gotta sing more, fuckass’ energy now, huh,” she said, lowering her voice so much to mimic that Ranmaru briefly questioned if this is what he sounded like to her. 

“....Fine! If you’re gonna sing it, actually fuckin’ sing it, don’t just yell!” 

“Oh yeah,” she said with what passed for a shit-eating grin with her. “Then show me, partyboy. Hey, everyone, meet my new vocal coach! Hold onto your dick, folks, he better fuckin floor you with all the shit he’s been talking --”  

Ranmaru looked at her a moment as she kept ranting, first with incredulity, then with a weird surreal awe. What the hell was happening?  

Why the hell should he bother questioning it? 

“-- Two-faced liar, full of fire

But I know the flame is mine!” He cut off her rant, singing as much as he could like this were a stage. 

She -- and a bunch of other staff at the table -- whooped and cheered and laughed, but she and only she joined in with him without a care in the world. “Rocka Rolla woman for a Rocka Rolla man

You can take her if you want her

If you think you can--” 

He let the arm that’d been just awkwardly dangling behind her wrap around her shoulder. He felt warmer than he’d ever had, burning all the way to the tips of his ears. 

“Rocka Rolla woman for a Rocka Rolla man

You can take her if you want her you can!” 

They hung on the last note of the chorus -- she hung on comedically long before dragging them both up to bow while everyone else clapped, laughed, cheered. A server came, yelling that they had an order of grilled beef up. Eiichi, from the other end of the table, gestured that he’d ordered it, but passed it down until it sat in front of Ranmaru. 

-------- 

They had an overnight bus trip to get back home -- or close enough to home, anyways, Ranmaru still had another long train ride waiting afterwards, so he’d planned to sleep the whole bus ride. 

But she wound up sitting next to him, and even if he could pretend like that didn’t make his heart thump now by itself, she was chatty. 

He didn’t mind the conversation, though. They mostly talked about music, sharing concert stories and albums. He even talked a little about what he wanted to do now in between all the freelance work, and when she wished him luck and couldn’t wait to hear it, he didn’t feel like she was just blowing smoke. 

There came a pause while she downed a bottle of tea. 

“...I meant it when I said there’s something in your voice the audience oughta hear,” he said, looking at her intently. 

She laughed uncomfortably after she swallowed. “Thank you. I’ll…..I guess I just have to go for it, huh.” 

“What’s stopping you?” 

“I...hm….” She paused in intent thought for a while. “Well, for one, the technical control isn’t there.” 

“Yeah, but you’ll improve that by doing it.” 

“Yeah, yeah. But there’s more than just that, I guess.” 

“Like what.” 

“...Well, you know how this industry is. It’s…hard. Finding the balance of what you’re good at, what people want, and what the higher-ups think they want. I don’t think I’m anywhere near figuring that balance out...”

“Forget all that.” Ranmaru looked at her very seriously, shifting in place so he could look her in the eye a little better. “Don’t worry about any of those things.” 

She laughed disbelievingly. “Okay, sure, lemme just. Throw out my job description while I’m at it. Dude, the whole point of this job and this work is to make other people happy.” 

“I was happy hearing your voice just as it was that first day. You just. Sang the way you wanted to. I liked that. It felt good. Genuine.” He took a moment to recall the words he found at the beginning of the tour. “...You like it when people connect with your group’s voice ‘n adore your groupmates. So let ‘em adore you some.” 

“Oh, cuz I’m so adowable,” she joked, laughing as Ranmaru scowled. 

“I mean it. I….” he started. “...The audience is going to be better for hearing more of you. Whatever that means.” 

She thought about that for a moment. “...I...you know. I don’t think I’ve ever asked myself what that looks like. Or let myself realize it, anyway.”

“You can handle the criticism if it comes. If that’s something you’re scared of.” 

“...Maybe it is. Thank you, Ranmaru, I’m going to think about that and kick everybody’s teeth in the next time we record.  

“‘Snothing,” he murmured, but he felt like his heart was going to soar out of his chest, and later, as they both nodded off and slumped over each other as the road stretched on, he realized he felt sated in a way he couldn’t remember being. A weird sort, that took away the pang of hunger, but made him feel it more deeply through his whole being. 

---- 

When he arrived ‘home,’ it was lunchtime, and he was too dazed, hungry, and tired to weather one last long walk home without some food in his stomach. It was on the way-- he may as well go to Kotobuki Bento and make Reiji make good on the free bento offer. 

(His sister rang him up, and Ranmaru paid up.) 

Reiji found him after the meal, and he wound up heading to Reiji’s room. To give him the merch, theoretically, but after Reiji earned enough grouchy monosyllabic replies, he brought something that sounded like an actual question. 

“...So, Ranran, while you were away…” 

“Just say it,” Ranmaru muttered, eyes too tired to focus. “I’m too fucking tired for you to take the long away around.” 

“Nattsun’s friend wants to join our little fanclub!”

“....And.” 

Reiji shrank a little, speaking more sheepishly. “The thing is...we mentioned you and....he’s pretty sure you two already know each other and you’d want nothing to do with him.” 

Ranmaru hazily tried to recall who that could be. There were too many people whose guts he hated for him to figure it out by himself. 

“Who is it,” Ranmaru growled tiredly. “Just fucking say it.” 

“Does...Hijirikawa ring a bell?” 

It did. Ranmaru fumed in silence for a moment, thinking about the whirlwind of disaster that name was attached to, but also the vague memories of that quiet, serious boy in traditional dress who fretted after him when they were too small to know of things like debts and bankruptcy...

“...Whatever,” Ranmaru muttered. He looked at Reiji’s bed and decided he wasn’t going to tolerate any more of this exhaustion -- he had a reliable neighbor to leave food out for the cats, anyway, what was a couple more hours? “It’s not really much of a fanclub if it’s just the three of us. He can join if he wants. It’ll give you ‘n Natsuki someone who’s better at responding to your crazy nightlong gushing than me.” He tossed the dakimakura on Reiji’s bed, dented in the middle from so much hugging, to him, before he shrugged closer into his staff tour hoodie and slumped into Reiji’s bed. 

He could practically see Reiji stammering, even as he turned away and settled into the comfort of eyes closed and a real bed. Clearly, that wasn’t the answer he was expecting, and it wasn’t the one Ranmaru was expecting to give, either. 

“-- R...Ranran, you really--” 

“Yes! What the fuck wasn’t clear about what I said! Masato can join! Go add him already! Just let me sleep, you noisy bastard!” Ranmaru barked one last time at Reiji. 

Ranmaru ignored whatever last jabbering Reiji had for him, already carried off to proper sleep. He wondered what he could possibly dream about that would rival the past week and this satisfying feeling, cradled in his new hoodie.  

(I perform semi-professionally -- not as an idol, mind, but I’m still getting up on a stage/camera to entertain people on the reg -- and it was so weird but also really......doki-inspiring, let’s say, to imagine Ranmaru being a fan of my stage bravado :’’’’’D To be honest I’ve been feeling a little discouraged and burnt out by it lately but this really refilled my tanks!!!) 

[grim-faux]

3 - Haunted Basement

  The patient was still mewling even when I entered the small room, I slammed the door behind me and took the time to slide one of the small rolling chairs over in front of the door, despite it opening from the other side. It was stupid but I wasn’t really thinking about it at the time.  Despite the skeletal physique of the patient I felt that somehow he would manage to get up and chase me down, if I didn’t deter his efforts in some miniscule way.  Once I had the door ‘secured’ I stood and watched the handle, expecting it to turn slowly like in some horror movie or something.

Eventually I pulled myself away and jogged all the way from the grunts mill back to the other side of the lobby.  It seemed almost too good to be true, and I had a bit of a scare when I reached the security door and couldn’t find the magnet key in my pocket.  The shock was short lived, I simply had to turn my coat pocket out more to pull it out of a wrinkle it had wedged into.  Never did a computerized confirmation sound so beautiful.

I shut the door after me and glanced over the room.  “They Lie” was scrawled on the wall in dried blood beside a window, right above a large pool of blood.  Footprints led away from the message towards the door.

It seemed my chance finding the magnet card wasn’t so chance after all.  The ‘Priest’ had been in here recently, and he did leave the key card for me to find, presumably while I was out cold for that short time.  This system seemed too elaborate to concoct by one man, but it was apparent from the file I found he was a patient of Mount Massive Asylum.  Not a comforting thought given my situation.

No matter, I would soon put this place far behind me, and deep in the back of my mind.  I shook my head and turned to the main computer.  Overhead screens displayed various rooms, some I recognized, others I hoped to never stumble upon.  No one knew I was here, no one significant anyway.  I pulled the chair over and slid the keyboard under my hands, the screen had the basic menu for systems access.  I might be able to stumble my way through this, as long as their network didn’t lock me out after a few password attempts.

Security

The white page and loading screen appeared and I watched intently as the little gray bar filled with white, inch by inch.  I looked over my shoulder making sure no one was in the room with me, I hadn’t searched it thoroughly in my haste, but everything appeared normal.  Or should I say safe and none threatening?

Aside from my friend slumped against the wall.  Sigh, I turned back to the screen and blinked.  The feed on my right was transmitting from somewhere dark and I could barely make out the familiar black shape with bald head strolling along towards…was that a lever?  My blood ran cold and I stood up from my seat when the ‘Priest’ turned and looked directly at the camera.

The lights went out.

I stumbled in the sudden dark, for some reason moving before I had any idea what was going on.  That switch he pulled, it was a breaker somewhere.

Thank the creators of backup generators, the emergency lights flashed on bright and blazing, I covered my face as my eyes readjusted to the bombardment of light.  Had to find the generators, need to turn the power back on.  The plaque near this corridor read Electric Room and indicated steps down, along with an overturned wheelchair and a crimson trail. 

As my mind wandered to undertaking this new task, a muffled voice came through the door.  “We have to contain it.”

I needed a way out, I needed to be somewhere else, anywhere but here.  I tried the door, but losing the main power activated a locking mechanism.  Damn!  Did he know I was here?  There was no place visible that could conceal me, only two lockers.  Was that all?  I turned and saw a large shadow streak across the wall, my options were drying up.

The locker gave a loud creak as its hinges ground together, I pulled down a coat that had been hung up and tossed it aside before replacing the vacant space with myself.  Right when I had shut the door, the big fucker stalked past the window. I held my breath and hoped, I prayed he would keep going.  This door was always locked before, it’s still locked now.  He’d lose interest and keep going, somewhere out there was some poor idiot that hadn’t been tossed out a window yet.

I wanted to slip down as he threw his body against the steel door.  Maybe it would hold, it was built to withstand a riot.  But I think at this point I was just kidding myself, nothing was going the way I had anticipated it would.  This place needed to go to hell.

After three slams of his massive body, the door crashed inward and Chris stood on the bent metal.  He gave the room a casual look over, everything looked just as it was the former evening.

I tried to control my breathing, everything seemed amplified in the acoustics of the hollow locker.  Out of reflex I pulled up my camera, catching an image of the big fucker as he turned to the computer terminals.  With him out of sight I felt infinitely better, but he was still there searching for me.  He made audible snuffling sounds, muttering to himself,

“You were here, weren’t you?  Little pig.  I’ll find all you whores.”

I hadn’t realized I’d closed my eyes until they snapped open, the sound of a creaky locker bulldozing my thoughts.  I could barely make out his shoulder, and a blood stained hand as he stood poised, but in the same instant relaxed when he found no one huddled in the cramped space.  He shut it gently and pivoted, marching to the doorway where he stopped.  He glanced back but looked away.

My lungs craved air, but every shallow breath I took ached.  Did he plan to turn around and check the other locker?

The latch clicked as I lifted it and pushed the door open, I stiffly swung around it as I shut the door and pulled the next locker open.  No sooner had it settled, Chris stormed back to the lockers and snapped the door open.  I was trying to push away, put myself as far from him as I could despite the tiny space.

He shut the door and turned away, this time exiting the room.  “Parameters will hold up….”

Ten minutes later and I was still hiding.  I heard no sound and saw no sign of Chris’ return, but remained leery.  If I couldn’t see him, he could be anywhere.

Anywhere but here?

I struggled with the latch, almost panicking with the thought I had accidentally locked myself in.  My fingers were a little numb, my whole mind felt numb.  I took a few steps toward the computer terminal and collapsed in the chair.  What had I been doing up to this point?

“The big fucker is stalking me. Found a patient file for a CHRIS WALKER, ex-military police, several tours in Afghanistan. A lot of the blood in this place is on his hands. But not all of it.”

My writing was sloppy, but that was the best I could do for now.  My camera was still on record so I shut it off for a bit and saved its charge.  I set it on the terminal and propped my head up on my hand.  The Generators would be down the steps in the Electric Room but restoring the power would be another matter.  Did they need gasoline?  What sort of grid did they run on?  I was unsure if Murkoff staff had them locked up to prevent people like the ‘Priest’ guy from getting ahold of them.  Obviously they must be accessible, unless he was the only one with access to them.

I sighed through my fingers.  What was I doing with my life?

Pages had been left on the terminal, a small note to Shawn about the camera operations.  Beneath it was a notice for restarting the generators, the Asylum had it’s own power off the grid after Murkoff took over.  Well, of course they would!

But it had directions for restarting the generators, reactivate the pumps and throw the breaker.  Seems pretty basic.  I tossed down the page and ran out the room, but returned shortly to snatch the camera.  My thoughts were a bit off kilter, I was hearing shrieking on the other side of the gate, from where I thought Chris had stalked off to.  I was going the opposite way, later I would worry where he had gone.

A pipe had broken from the wall, water gushed from it just missing the stairs I took to the basement.  Chances are it was a delivery pipe, but it was no more cleaner than sewage.  The air was humid yet chilly, small drafts moved through the open doorway waiting in the subterranean level.  I sucked in a sharp breath as the water engulfed my shoes, I stepped back and pondered.  There was no way to get around this, I liked my shoes but I’d have to buy a new pair after this regardless.  A new style, I didn’t want to remind myself how many bodies I trudged over.

The actuality was, I was scared.  No lie.  There was no telling who was down here, if there was something worse than that big fucker.  But if I wanted a chance to get out of here, I had to get through this.

My feet sloshed through the water, shoes turned soggy and heavy.  I pulled up my camera and flicked on the night vision.  Even with the enhanced lens I couldn’t see what was under the water, I just had to tread carefully.  There was quite a bit of ruble on the surface, some of the ceiling had weathered and fallen.  Large items lined the walls, some barrels a pallet.  They might have used the lower floor for storage as well, it was spacious from what I could see.

I was met with a despairing sight, the gate that lead into the basement rooms was locked with a thick chain.  No way could I smash it.  Just to mock me, the wall beyond the gate had a plaque labeling the primary rooms.  The middle name was Electric rooms.  There had to be another way into there. 

As I turned to backtrack, a flash of light blinded me from the next room.  The wall had rotted and crumbled to some degree, and with some extra effort I was able to remove enough brick that I could squeeze through.

The water was deeper on this side, and a bit more ruble was hidden beneath the surface.  I caught my footing before I could fall and drop the camera.  That’s the last thing I needed.

A cool draft met me in this grimy place, but the scent it carried was far from fresh.  I clutched my coat tighter around me and stepped carefully, there were boards bobbing just under the surface, sodden but uncertain about their watery demise.  A few laundry baskets had been abandoned and another shelf melted in the flood.  I turned a corner and continued, at least in this section I didn’t need my camera, this corridor was well lit.

Wooden crates were stacked along the walls making a slow precession into the water as their predecessors decayed, and gave under the weight.  I wondered what was kept in the barrels along the walls, gasoline maybe.  They had vehicles and other machinery that needed fuel, a tanker probably came out to deliver the barrels.  The noxious stench of bad oil was constant, cheap grade bought in bulk for old machines.  Engines.  The generators couldn’t be far.

Someone had stacked boxes in the middle of the corridor, I tested their stability before hopping over.  The emergency lights didn’t reach this area, or had burned out.  I moved my feet carefully under the water tensing when I felt something soft and undeniably slimy.  It could be a cardboard box filled with liquefied files, that’s all it was.  But the smell intensified, a soggy vapor of rot and soured water. 

Before me was what appeared to be a high archway, but the opening was boarded up tight.  I put my hand up testing, feeling the draft creeping between the cracks.  Maybe there was a small window down here, something I could squeeze through if I could find it.

“W-who’s there?”

The voice sounded meek, worried.  I shuffled away as banging ensued.

“Who’s?  WHO’S THERE?”  I held still as the noises softened and the speaker began mumbling.  “I’ll hurt you.  I’m not afraid of dying.  I’m not afraid of anything.  Not anymore.”

I waited listening to the sounds of the water, only the drips and tranquil sloshing penetrated the black.  Slowly my feet moved, reducing as much noise as I could through the froth.  The night vision revealed nothing but a large corridor, at the end a dull haze of light.  It was on the other side of a waist high platform, evidence on my side revealed there had been steps some short time ago but the timber ruptured and was torn away.  The waterlogged planks I had seen along the way might’ve been the remains.

From what I could make out there was no one in this room.  The walls were thick brick and solid looking, a few pallets and boxes had been left to rot.  The furthest wall had two doors, the one on my direct left had one, all shut and to my limited knowledge locked tight.

Another body hung from the ceiling, headless and bloated. Another reminder of what would become of me if I didn’t hustle and get the fuck out of here.

I pulled myself onto the platform and stepped softly down the steps.  I wondered if this place was first built as an Asylum, or had it been constructed by some eccentric billionaire that appreciated his privacy.  The building was ancient, but the ideal of looking into its private history had not come to mind while I was struggling to locate information on Murkoff’s activities.  A map would have been very useful right now.

The control board beneath the brilliance of light labeled out my next course of action.  The generators couldn’t work without gasoline (I knew that).  The main breaker needed to be flipped before I could restart the power.

This didn’t seem too complicated, where?-  I turned around recalling the sealed rooms, one of them must hold the breaker.

My shoes bubbled as they filled with water once again, I didn’t want to think about what might’ve been floating beneath the surface.  I focused ahead trusting my NV, even with it I was still bumping into boxes and things my eyes had missed as I set my narrow sight for one of the two doors.  When I put my weight on the first step it gave, dissolving into the water.  I came down hard on my knee but brushed off the sharp pain, at this point it was nothing but a mild nuisance.

The door knob stuck but with a hard twist the handle creaked and I crept inside.  The soft glow of the emergency light illuminated the generator, poised on a metal pole was the button.  All was going well, I punched the dial and turned around as the machine whirled to life.

On a metal barrel beside the door something glittered, I walked over and discovered it to be another battery.  Odd place to find one, but maybe someone had been down here last with a penlight.  I pocketed it before I stepped out the door and stopped, my blood running cold.  The sound of crashing and banging came from not far away, not far enough away from me.  Timber splintered and gave as someone broke through what could only be a door.  Or a barricade. 

I checked through my camera scanning - where had it come from?  The acoustics of this room made locating sounds tricky, there were four doors in this room?  No, three, I came from a step–

A pair of eyes flashed, I stepped back as I moved my camera searching for the face.  There, a man looking right at me from the doorway he had forced open.  I retreated back into the room shutting the door before examining the confined area.  Had he seen me?  He was insane no doubt, could he trust his eyes after what had happened here?  It might not have mattered to him.

The room was solid, except for a bed a few feet from the generator.  I slid under it as the thuds came from the doorway, the wood snapping and the jam cracking before the door clattered against the cement.  My instinct warned me to crawl further under the bed, I was just beneath the edge, but if I made a sound he would find me.  The dull drone of the pump could nullify the tiniest gasp, but somehow he would pick up the rough fiber of my coat against the moist cement.  I held my breath as he walked by, his gaze roaming the walls and shadows.  In his hand he carried some sort of weapon, what looked like the leg of a table with screws still sticking out of it.

It was splattered with black.

I swallowed and let out a shallow breath. Please leave.  Please don’t check under the bed.

He slapped the clean side of the club against his palm a few times, turning to check the room once more before he spun around.  “The gospel.  Tells us to follow.” 

Once he cleared the doorframe I took in a long, deep breath.  God, my ribs.  I didn’t need to get anymore beat up than I already was.

For good measure I waited, he had vacated the room but was he debating on returning?  I had no idea if he had seen me or what he might’ve thought, if he thought he saw me.  There was time, take it slow.  But if I waited, would he eventually return and notice the bed?  I shifted under it a little more, almost immediately the man materialized in the open doorway.

I bit my lip.  He didn’t hear me!  He couldn’t have!  He was here on a hunch and once he had satisfied his suspicions he would leave.  I tucked my face against my shoulder and watched him with my eyes.  He gave the room another glance over as he passed, and checked behind the generator when near it.

Against my better judgment, I slipped out on the other side of the bed beside the wall.  I kept low and crawled towards the gaping doorway as I heard his feet grit against the moist silt of the floor.  My breath hitched as I looked over my shoulder, he had just dropped down to check under the bed.  I didn’t wait for him to rise, I carefully stepped on the door and slipped out of the room.

The steps groaned under my weight, the sound amplified in my mind.  Cursed all, I forgot the last step was ruined and stumbled in the water as I fought to keep my footing, and reduce the noise I was making.

“What’s that?”

I couldn’t see at all without my camera, but hadn’t the presence of mind to raise it for my eyes. Instead, I felt around in the dark for the rail and made a painfully slow shuffle around to the backside of the steps.  They groaned as my pursuer stepped down into the water.

He made a more graceful recovery than I had when he missed the last step, or he recalled that it was ruined.  Or, a more frightening thought, he was more accustomed to the inky veil that occupied many of the rooms.

It was fortunate I had my hand wedged in the cameras strap, I had let go of it as I pressed my fingers against the wet wood.  With it on my mind I raised the visor and watched the figure scan his immediate area.  After a tense second he continued forward, his legs churning dull froth with each step.  I backed away slowly, always keeping him in my sight.  I bumped against a crate before I turned around, checking for what other obstacles might be in my path.

The second door, same as the first.  I hopped onto a crate moldering against the steps and made light footfalls towards the handle. It gave with an easy twist and I entered, shutting my thin paper of protection.

This room had more to offer.  Lockers lined the wall, shelves had been assembled in the corners littered with few items, some bottles of oil and boxes, tattered sheets.  In the furthest corner was the pump.

When I activated it, the noise would alert the prowler.  There would be no doubt in his mind, with the door shut, that someone was still in here.  Or, this was the trail of thought I entertained.  I had to keep reminding myself he was a patient in an asylum, there was no telling what his rationale skills entitled.

I punched the button and turned to the lockers along the wall.  Maybe I could lock it from the inside….

The latch was different from the ones on the top floor, I fumbled with it trying to discern if it was corroded with rust or if I was doing this wrong, but the sounds at the door thumped with each beat of my heart.  Wait!  Wait!  I needed to hide now!

I sprint over behind the pump and ducked down.  A final crash announced my visitor as the door caved in.  He kicked away bits of the timber as he stepped through, they clattered across the floor loud enough to be heard over the pump.

“—revealed himself to the shattered minds.” He muttered, somewhere amid a quote.  I curled up into a tighter ball and pressed up against the pump, if he glanced over it I might fall just under his peripheral sight.

A locker opened then slammed shut.  He patrolled the area, his club thudding along the metal doors before he stopped.  For a moment there was near total silence.

I trembled though I couldn’t decide if it was from the cold or if I was terrified.  Must have been both, my coat was good but my pants were soaked. I flinched when he began beating the lockers and screaming.  When would this nightmare end?

With a final hoot he raced out, his shoes thudding over the broken planks and fading down the steps outside.

Several minutes passed, but of the man there was no sound.  The generator caused too much of a ruckus, it was impossible to pick up echoes or voice in the next room.  Was he still out there?  From here I had no way of knowing.

I uncoiled myself and peered over the pump.  It might’ve helped if I had my camera up, but the emergency light impeded the NVs range.  There were no sounds that worried me, but that could mean he was standing just outside the door waiting.  I moved around the large machine and crouched, shuffling towards the broken door.  At this range I could see through my visor, but halfway there I couldn’t see much beyond the portal but dark shapes huddled.

The right side was the stair side, I huddled on the left straining to see.

“Can’t see me.  Won’t get me.”

I slinked back, but realized I was still safe.  He was trudging by the stairs muttering to himself, I don’t think he could see me.  Or maybe I underestimated his instincts, he climbed onto the crates and began up towards me.

In a wild dash I reached the pump and ducked down behind it.  I hadn’t seen if he cleared the door before I hid, did he even see me in the first place?  I had no way of knowing, but I was out of sight and therefore, out of mind.  He was just checking the room.  He must’ve visited the other side first, and then came back to see if I was here.  But this was all speculation, I had no idea what was—

A locker swung open, pause.  He slammed it shut and jerked another one open.  He knew I was here, he was looking for me.  I listened carefully as his steps moved across the room, then pivoted.  Where was he now?  I slid to the edge of the machine and leaned over.

He was at the opposite corner just standing there, but I could still hear him walking.  When my eyes adjusted to the odd contrast of light and shadow, I saw a sheet hanging on the shelf.

“There you are!”

I twisted around where I was huddled, he grabbed my shoulder and raised the club above his head.  My leg kicked out blindly smashed into the brick wall, I tore out of his grip and slid out under a metal pipe attached to the pump.  A sharp crack filled the air when he brought his weapon down, it took a moment to register my opportunity before I was clawing to my feet running for the door.  “Wait!  Come back!”

Even with my night vision up, I still ran into the rail that surrounded the steps.  I heaved over it splashing into the water below, footsteps were right at my neck and I felt something slice through the air near my head.  I bent forward and ran, though I heard him storming down the steps a few feet behind me.  The camera was jiggling too much, I had a god awful time trying to hold it steady while I tore through the room.  All the time the guy was still after me, screaming.  I was unsure where exactly I was headed.

Ahead of me I saw steps and light, I vaulted up them stumbling over the fallen door.  I hadn’t stepped over a door to get into this place.

A wall appeared in my path, I barely put on the breaks but still managed to smash my good shoulder against it.  Panicked and shaken I forgot the camera but rather, slapped my palm and fingers against the solid surface and followed it.  I staggered through an open door as the footfalls of my pursuer neared, I found the edge of the door and flung it shut.  The doorknob rattled as he worked to get it open, I think my appreciation for broken door handles grew somewhat in that instant.

I stumbled over a pipe and fell hard on my chest.  As I lay groaning and fighting to recover from the stun, I noticed a few broken beds just ahead.  The door was about to give, I crawled under the beds and lay flat as the wood crumpled and the variant charged through.

It was impossible to see without my camera, but I heard his wet footfalls as he paced around the room.  A few of the items were shifted, I tried to identify what each was as he poked around.  Finally his steps came towards my space, I took a sharp breath and held it as he smashed the club against a metal bar then waited.  In the distance I could pick up the echoing clatter of the pumps.  I needed to focus on that.

“There was no putty tat there.”  After a few more minutes, either he became bored or forgot what he was looking for.  I heard his weight rock the broken door as he thudded over it.

I didn’t want to move.  No telling where he was now, or where I was.  But I reasoned with myself, if I stay here he would eventually find me.  I was blocked in but this area had served its purpose for the time.  I wasn’t ready to move on, but I forced my hands to pull at the cold floor and drag my body out.

I wasn’t shaking I was quaking unrestrained.  That had been too close.  What was it I needed to do?  Flip the breaker.  I bumped my face with the camera as I tried to lift the visor and view exactly where I had stumbled into.

Another storage room.  Spare beds and sheets for the patients, lockers, and some filthy laundry bins.  I tried to stand but my legs wouldn’t hold my weight, so I shuffled along to a door at the other side of the room.  At this point I felt my masculinity melting.  Get it together Miles.

With some help from the shelf and the doorknob I was able to haul myself up.  I stood a moment taking deep breathes and renewing my resolve.  I was okay as long as I could outrun him.  Flip the breaker, restart the power, get the fuck out.  This would be easy.

The door was locked.

I could’ve held up the camera and seen exactly where I was going, but I wanted to feel the walls, the frigid damp brick and the shelves as I staggered around them.  I was not too solid on my feet just yet but once I stepped out into the corridor, I had my camera out like a bad habit.

No sign of the man.  No sound of him either.  I took it slow, glancing out through the light in the doorway before returning my eyes to the path ahead.  On the wall was a plaque with an arrow.

Generator

I followed the corridor, hopping over more debris that had been shoveled into the hall.  When I reached the end I picked up the soft footfalls, the moment before he turned the corner.  There was a doorway to my right I slipped into, but wish I hadn’t.

Bodies tethered to the ceiling like butchered cattle, organs spilling off the shelf, the translucent skin glimmered in the NV of the camera.  I didn’t have time for revulsion, he was right behind me.  I slid under the bed and pressed my face into my shoulder, the smell, I will NEVER get used to that smell. 

He strolled in from the doorway and glanced over the room, I had my camera held beside my face at an awkward angle to prevent the gleam of the visor from reflecting too much.  Despite the discomfort I wouldn’t repositioning it to document his habits.  Leave the room, just please leave the room.

Then he did something very madman like.  He folded to his knees and smashed at the floor with his club, the strikes hard enough to shatter his weapon, I’m amazed it didn’t.  Then, he leaned over and pressed his…ear down.  He was facing me at that point, but I was too flabbergasted to register the potential threat.  It was probably best I didn’t, otherwise I might’ve squirmed and drawn his attention.

After that he rose to his feet and walked out muttering about shadows.

Once it seemed he left for good I wasted no time in crawling out from under the bed, the stew of rotten organs among the metal legs was too much for my tattered sanity.  I sat in the dark absorbed in what little light was put off by the visor.  Which way had he gone?

My question was soon answered when he passed from the right, the way I was headed initially.  I didn’t move though I was in plain view, he was out of sight by the time the thought registered.  The dark had concealed me fully.

I was taking my camera for granted, if I wasn’t looking through the visor everything was a black slate with no texture, no form.  Empty.  It could drive a man insane, or more so, give him some company.

When his footfalls faded, I shuffled to the door and looked around the edge.  He had found the door that was locked and made himself busy trying to tear it down.  I was fine with this, it wouldn’t keep him occupied for long.  I shut the door as I left the room.

Was I becoming desensitized by what I saw?  It was easy to forget in this hall what I had previously been subjected to, but if I dwelled on it for too long I could feel my heart flutter.  I need not think on that, keep focused on my objective - to get out of here I needed to flip the breaker and open the main doors.  That was the only way out.  Try not to think of what lay in the rooms, or what else could possibly be waiting for me.  I would escape, I would be fine.  My thoughts felt natural, but this worried me as well.  A crazy man thought he was normal because the only thoughts he knew, were those of his own, he had forgotten the way a sane man thought. 

When I escaped, would I go mad too?

Of course I wouldn’t, what was I thinking?  Keep it together Miles, this place was getting to me and I would acknowledge that before it began to eat away at me.  I wasn’t going mad, my brain was just filtering so I wouldn’t go mad.  Once I was out, I would call up my therapist and get this water under the bridge settled.

Having a therapist was kind of awkward, people got the wrong impression.  I was advised long ago when I received my license, that I would come to appreciate a good therapist.  No lie, I have seen some of the worst that the world could offer, and even if I didn’t think it phased me it was still a good idea to have someone that I could talk to.  Help me cope.

The corridor came to a T, I decided to check my right first, only because I could see the shimmer of water the other way.  It felt like the hall was never ending, aside from a mishap of ruined desks that broke up the repetition.  At the end was a crushed pallet, along with the door I sought. 

The knob gave with one twist, it cracked and fell apart in my hands.  I frowned down at it, before I tossed the pieces aside and inspected the door.  I could still push it shut but it wouldn’t slow anyone down.  I turned my camera to the rooms interior and scanned over the shelves dotted with chemicals and some tool, a trolley, more lockers (why did a facility need so many lockers?)  Fuse boxes hugged the furthest walls, the soft glimmer of the backup light blotted out the NVs range.  This had to be it.

Directly ahead was a familiar looking handle.  The breaker the ‘Priest’ had pulled that cut the power in the first place.

I crossed over to it and forced the lever up.  Just had to reactivate the power and find my way back to the ground floor.

As I was heading down the hall I was somewhat distracted, but I quickly caught the soft steps and retreated backwards in a noisy shuffle. 

“Hey!  What the hell is that?”

He saw me!  He saw me!  I pivoted and ran back to the room, I didn’t even bother to shut the door behind me I needed to hide.

But damn these lockers, what was I doing wrong?  There was no lock on it, it couldn’t be jammed.

The latch popped and I climbed inside, the last worry on my mind was whether I could get this model open from the inside.  He didn’t seem to have a problem getting them open.

I slowed my breath when he entered, the door creaked as he shoved it against the wall and the muffled snaps of the wood chair leg striking his palm came closer and closer.  I shifted, it felt like the locker jarred on its foundation.  Oh god, just hold still and be quiet.  He won’t find me. I’m not here.

“Who is that?”

He didn’t see me.  He did not see me.  I fixed my grip on the camera and leaned back from the cutout vents.  The door beside me opened, then slammed shut.  I put my hand on the latch and held it.  There were three lockers, weren’t there?  Or two?  I let out a soft sigh as the tension climaxed, where was he?

 “Up to heaven, went away!”  He wandered out of sight tapping the shelves, and once he had satisfied his fancy he departed.

I waited in the silence just breathing as everything settled, my heart, my haggard breathes.  I was in a dead end, I couldn’t afford to get pinned her again.  I worked up my nerve and opened the locker, grateful that it hadn’t stuck.  Before I went on I made sure I understood how the latch on these worked, then moved to the open doorway and looked out.  The corridor was silent but this didn’t set me to ease, he was still here.

At the intersection I paused to zoom the camera and check the far hall, what might be there.  I could make out boards and an archway, but I couldn’t decide if this was the other side of the archway passed before entering this area.

I was nearly out anyway, what did it matter?

All the more reason to use caution, from this point on.  I stepped lightly along the hall watching my cameras feed, so far no sound.  I expected at any moment he would charge out at me, or I’d feel his hand slap me on the shoulder right before my skull splint in two.  Shuddering, I swallowed and tried not the think about the foul odor burned into my mind. 

Just needed to reactivate the power.  The power, so I could open the front doors and get the fuck out of here.  My resentment for this place was natural, I didn’t fight it, nor the repetitive state my mind had elapsed into.  It was easy to keep repeating my current goal through my thoughts, keep focused on that rather what I had seen.  It felt clean.  I wanted to feel clean.

I passed the shut door, not bothering to pause, not giving it another thought.  Breaker, security, then out.  As I neared the light from the entrance I heard his voice.  At least I knew where he was.

Thankfully he had torn the second door down, I stepped inside and moved along the shelves, making sure I didn’t knock over anything this time.  The battery in the NV was getting low and the visual was dimming.  After I removed the battery I thought about tossing it down the hall, distract the variant that way.  In the end I decided this was a bad idea, best not draw attention to any area I was near or in.  If he wasn’t certain of my whereabouts, it might clue him in with sudden noises.  I also did not need to stir him up, he was insane and that was apparently enough to get my face smashed in.

Down to two batteries.

I moved to the other doorway and peeked out, just as he faded from the nightvisions range somewhere down the corridor.  I couldn’t see him, but if I ventured into the light I would be vulnerable for a splint second.  He would see me.  Unless he wasn’t facing me.

One, two, three, and four steps into the entrance corridor.  I paused for a beat to listen if he made note of me, but I heard nothing aside from the echoing steps growing distant.  It was unnerving.

I continued into the cold water and crossed to the access panel.  Before I hit the switch I took a deep breath and prepared myself, this was it.  With a firm punch the generator kicked to life, the lamps overhead flickered and blazed white clarity.  I shut my camera off and glanced around, which door had I entered from?

All I could see were broken doors, where was…?

I spun about and saw my entrance, the stairs and the arch I originally entered from.  I sprang up the steps, despite the protest of my ribs and ran the full length of the hall with the water frothing around my legs.  When I reached the small crevice I slipped through, I spied just beyond it a cracked desk a folder forgotten atop.  Enough light made the last part of Confidential evident.  I picked it up before squeezing through the gap.

Once I felt safe and heard no steps, no screaming man chasing me, I paused to calm my breath.  That had been too close, if I hadn’t of gotten out from under the bed when I did….  My close call ration was dwindling down.  I could only feel closure with this event, knowing that I had gotten out of there without getting myself killed, and with my camera still in functional order.

I paused a moment to look it over while I had some light.  After the fall I hadn’t noticed, but a hairline crack had formed along its case.  Another battle scar, it had many.  The corners were rubbed clean from constantly shuffling it between the pack and my hands, and the symbols on the buttons were worn away from years of use.  To operate my camera I had to work it from memory.  Like me, it had been through hell before we reached this place, and it’d receive more abuse before I retired it.  That wouldn’t be for a long time, I promise.

[wheresfury]

Needy

~Pairings: Brie Larson/fem!reader

~Warnings: Daddy Kink, dirty talk, verbal humiliation, oral sex, praise kink, fluff.

~Word count: 2,539

~Summary: Brie accidentally uploads the wrong video to her Instagram. Oops.

~Authors note: Just a little continuation of God is a woman. Because as was pointed out this would totally happen. Hope y’all enjoy!!

~Other works are on my Masterlist

———-<3———-

Once you make it to the bedroom Brie lifts you up and tosses you on the bed. You yelp as you land softly on the cloud like mattress with too many pillows.

“Wait, I need to put ointment on your shoulder, Brie!”

“Baby, I’m fine, okay? It can wait a little bit longer. I’ve had worse, isn’t that right, baby girl?” You smile sheepishly at her as she grabs the remote for the apple tv and turns it on as she pairs her phone pulling up the sexy video you two just recorded. She sits on the edge of the bed as you come up to kneel behind her, leaving kisses up and down her neck.

“Come on, Daddy. Hurry up!” Brie giggles at you and pushes you backwards.

“Lay down, baby girl, do not move. We are not starting until I get this playing. What did you say you wanted to do?” You pout and lay down placing your hands on your bare stomach. You were still shirtless from earlier.

“I said I wanted to eat you out while the video played.” She smirks at your pouting and takes her time setting up the video. You notice and start to whine.

“Baby, pay attention to me! I know you can be faster than that!” She turns around and raised a brow at your attitude.

“Baby girl, you know brats don’t get what they want. So watch the attitude.” You huff and cross your arms, looking up at the ceiling.

“Fine. Just so you know I will tease you till you’re begging for my tongue, Brie!” She laughs as the video starts to play. She makes her way to hover above you.

“You will do no such thing, baby girl. You know how I know?” Your breath hitches as she leans down to suck on your neck, among the many hickeys she has already created.

“H-how how do you know, Daddy?” You moan as she licks up your neck to your ear making you shiver.

“Because, baby girl, I’m in charge.” Oh god. Your eyes roll back as she sinks down onto your body. Her lips collide with yours as you hear your moans on the screen at the other end of the room. Her tongue explores your mouth as her hips grind down onto yours. She pulls away, making you pout, once her phone starts to ring pausing the video. You lean on your elbows as she reaches over to see who’s calling her.

“Who is it, baby?” Her eyebrows scrunch together as her publicists name pops up.

“It’s Ann, my publicist. That’s weird, it’s way too late to make calls.” She silences her phone and restarts the video. She leans back down to kiss you as the video plays in the background. You moan as you hear her on the video talking about your embarrassing moment at the Oscars. You reach up to undo her bun when the video pauses again indicating another call. She pulls away and growls as she hangs up the call and puts her phone on do not disturb. She presses play on the video and reaches down to pull off her top, unclasping her bra as well. You gasp as she leans back down claiming your mouth in a hard kiss. You undo her bun this time, moaning as her breasts rub against your own. You throw her hair tie away and run your fingers through her shorter hair. You pull away, needing air, as her mouth makes it way down to your breasts bringing a nipple into her mouth. She laps at your nipple while her hand pays attention to the other one, twisting and pulling on your nipple as her mouth works wonders on the other.

“Fuck, Daddy.” She hummed as she switches breasts giving them equal treatment. She takes her time giving your breasts attention. By the time your squirming basically becomes thrashing she pulls away from your chest.

“Impatient are we, baby girl? We have all night, baby. Don’t make me start over.” You whine again as the video comes to the part where you climax. Your pussy clenches at the sight, Brie feels this and looks over to the video. She presses her abs harder onto your clothed cunt as your hands knead the back of her neck.

“Look at how gorgeous you are when you cum, baby girl. So beautiful and all mine, isn’t that right, baby girl?” You moan as you buck your hips up onto her abs.

“Yes, Daddy, all yours. Please!” She hummed as she feels the wet patch over your jeans.

“What is it, baby. What do you want?” Your mouth opens in a moan as she leans down to suck on your stomach way too close to your cunt for you to form a sentence. She knows this and pulls away with a chuckle. She nods her head at you as your breathing slowly evens out.

“I wanna eat you out, Daddy. Please!” She moans at the sound of your pleading and reaches for her phone. You make grabby hands at her as she does so.

“No, what are you doing! Come back here, Daddy!” She glares at your rudeness and you immediately stop. You look at her submissively as she messes with her phone. The video starts over before she makes her way back to you.

“On your knees, slut.” You quickly get on your knees as she sits down were you just laid.

“So impatient, my little slut. I was only starting the video over after you said you wanted to go down on me as it played. Why so bratty all of a sudden, baby girl?” Your hands land on her thigh as you lean down closer to her face.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I just really want to make you cum, make you feel good. Like how you always make me feel.” She smiles at you and pinches your cheek.

“How cute, baby girl. That’s no excuse to be a brat, though, okay? No more or we stop, understand, baby girl?” You quickly nod your head in agreement.

“Yes, Daddy, I promise I’ll be good from now on!” She smirks at you and grabs your neck pulling you in for a kiss. She takes off her pants and underwear as she nods at you to do the same. You hop off the bed and take off the rest of your clothes.

“That’s my good girl, now make your Daddy cum, baby.” You quickly get in between her legs as she lays back, hands behind her head. You blush at the clear position of power.

“Well what are you waiting for, slut. Get to work.” You moan as you lay down on your stomach and start to kiss her thighs. You slowly make your way to her pussy that is absolutely drenched with need. Your nose bumps her clit as you take in a deep breath.

“Does my cunt smell good to you, slut?” You whimper at the look she was giving you, one of absolute cockiness. Fuck.

“Yes, Daddy. I love the way it smells.” She hums and spreads her legs some more.

“I bet it tastes even better. Stop wasting my time, you dirty whore.” Your thighs clench together at her words and you quickly latch on to her clit, not wanting her to stop this. You see her abs clench at your move and you smile inwardly. You circle her clit with your tongue for a bit before moving down sucking lightly at her folds. She lets out a load moan at the sensation.

“That’s it, baby girl. You’re eating me so good, baby.” She’s about to move her hands to your hair when your phone starts to ring. She releases a growl of frustration and pushes you away from her delicious cunt causing you to whine in tandem.

“Who the fuck is calling you this late?” You shrug at her and get up to get your phone that was on the bathroom counter.

“It’s your publicist, baby!” She groans and gets off the bed making her way over to you.

“Why is she calling you? Let me see.” You hand her your phone as you wrap your arms around her waist. She answers your phone as you start to nibble on her neck, her unoccupied hand holding onto one of your ass cheeks. Her eyes widen and she quickly pulls away from you.

“Wait-WHAT?!” You look at her in confusion as she runs back into your room and quickly picks up her phone.

“Oh no- no no no!” You’re worried now. You make your way over to her as she quickly types at her phone.

“What’s wrong, Brie?” She hushes you as you see her pull up her Instagram. You gasp as you see her latest post. Instead of her singing it was your sex tape. Oh no. She growls and goes to delete the video.

“Why the fuck did Instagram not take this down immediately?!” You hear Ann saying that no one flagged it therefore it was still up. You flush red with embarrassment and go to sit down on the bed placing your head in your hands. This is worse than the kneeling thing at the Oscars for sure. You mumble quietly to yourself as Brie seethes into the phone telling Ann she wants to sue Instagram and something about damage control. By the time she hangs up you’ve stopped mumbling and are just silent. She breathes out heavily before making her way to you. She gets on her knees and places her hands on your thighs.

“I am so so sorry, Y/N. I swear I didn’t do this on purpose!” You look up at her with tears streaming down your face. She looks absolutely heartbroken at your current state. You sniffle as she wipes your tears. Your hands come up to hold hers.

“Hey, Brie, I know you would never do that. I mean honestly, I’m surprised it wasn't me who did it first.” You both laugh at your confession. She smiles and brings a hand up to push some of your hair behind your ear.

“Are you going to be okay?” You smile back at her and nod your head.

“Of course I will be, I mean it will take people a whole lot longer to get over it than the stupid Oscars fiasco.” She hums and kisses your cheek.

“You’re right, baby girl. I mean at least they really don’t see much of your body, they really only see your ass, right?” You laugh heartily at her.

“Oh my god, Brie! Stop it!” She laughs along with you at her silliness.

“Okay okay I’ll stop. Can you imagine all those fan girls calling me Daddy getting that confirmed? Holy shit, babe. We’ll never hear the end of this.” You smirk at her as you pull her onto the bed. You push her down and straddle her thighs.

“You’re right, Daddy. We’ll never hear the end of this. We’re way too damn hot to not talk about.” She smirks at your confidence and places her hands on your hips.

“Hey, as long as you don’t get all jealous hearing other girls call me Daddy.” You glare at her and cross your arms.

“I am the only one who can call you that! I will cut a bitch!” Brie starts to laugh a full bodied laugh at your attempt at a threat. You pout at her.

“Stop it, Daddy. It’s not funny! I will!” She’s still laughing as you go to move off of her. She holds you still and stops laughing enough to speak.

“I believe you, baby girl. Really I do!” You pout at her pathetic attempt at reassuring you.

“Mhm, sure you do, Daddy.” She bucks her hips into you and you moan at the feeling. She brings her hands up to your breasts squeezing them firmly.

“How about we forget about this incident, for now and enjoy the rest of our night. How does that sound, baby girl.” You lean down and kiss her, biting on her bottom lip gently. You pull away with her lip between your teeth before letting it go.

“That sounds perfect, Daddy.” She smirks as she pushes you down to her waist.

“Good, now finish what you started, baby girl.” You moan as you lick your lips diving back into her puffy soaked cunt. She groans as her hands find your hair pushing your face closer to her pussy.

“That’s it, baby girl. Eat your Daddy’s pussy, baby. Fuck you’re so good at this, oh right there, baby.” You moan into her cunt at her praise and move your tongue down to her entrance. You thrust your tongue as far as you can into her pussy as you moan causing Brie to buck her hips into your face.

“Fuck. Touch my clit, baby girl. That’s it. So close, baby.” You thrust your tongue faster as you rub her clit in fast circles. Her thighs clench around your head as her fingers pull at your hair making you release a load moan into her cunt. She screams out your name as her juices soak your face from her climax. You help her come down from her high before she pushes you away with her hands. You lick your lips as you crawl up her body. You lean down and kiss her as she moans at the taste of herself on your tongue. Her hands squeeze your ass as you two continue to kiss passionately. You pull away when air becomes necessary, your hands tangled in her hair.

“I love you, Brianne.” She smiles and bites her lip at your use of her full name.

“I love you too, Y/N.” She leans up to kiss you again before rolling you over onto your back. She leans down and grabs the top sheet to pull over both of you. She lays on her back as you turn to cuddle into her side. Her hand strokes through your hair as you sigh in content.

“Did that really just happen?” She looks down at you confused before she realized what you meant.

“Oh god! The video is probably everywhere by now, baby. I’m so sorry.” She pouts and you lean up to kiss her pout away.

“It’s okay baby, really. We can deal with it tomorrow besides in a way it’s kind of hot.”

“How so?” You smirk as you lean onto your elbow your lips close to touching.

“Well now people know how fucking hot you are with your big top energy and shit.” She broke out into laughter.

“What in the world, baby. You need to go to sleep you’re talking crazy now.” You smirk at her.

“You know it’s true, Brie.” She rolls her eyes as you stick out your tongue at her. She pulls you down for one last kiss before you settle on her chest.

“Goodnight, my beautiful top.” She groans at you as you giggle.

“Stooop, baby!” You stop giggling as you snuggle into her side. She kisses the top of your head as you slowly succumb to sleep.

“Goodnight, my beautiful bottom.” She smiles softly before succumbing to sleep herself.

———-<3———-

Brie Tag: @fun-sized-widow-bites

Forever Tag: @cheethos , @domromanoff , @stuckys-whore , @marilynroselleprentiss , @captainwonderwidow

[descentisinevitable]

The Walking Dead and My Favorite Scene

I think the best way to start this is with the following concession: I am terrible at watching television. It is one of my favorite things to do, and I suck at it.

I do not mean that I’m bad at the surface level act of watching TV shows but more that I’m awful at keeping up with shows that are currently running. The best example of this being The Walking Dead. I was 11 years old when I started watching The Walking Dead and I loved every second of it, there were only a handful of seasons out at the time and I tore through them on Netflix at a frankly alarming rate. Predictably, with only 51 episodes on Netflix at the time, I finished it very quickly. For the next couple years, I attempted to watch the show each week as new episodes came out but it really never worked. I’d always be able to watch for a few weeks and then a couple weeks would come where time gets away from me and I’d miss an episode the whole plan would crumble. Eventually, I would just wait for the season to finish and watch it when it comes onto Netflix. Which then created even more problems because I never knew when it would come to Netflix and by the time season 9 rolled around I was a season and a half behind and just stopped watching.

I hadn’t even thought about catching up until recently and I just couldn’t get into it. It had been too long and I had no idea what was going on. So I restarted the show last week. I had forgotten just how strong the show starts off! I think the writing for the vast majority of these first few seasons is brilliant, but one scene caught my attention because it’s a prime example of one of my favorite thing in any visual media.

To me, the biggest feat both of acting and writing is when a character emotes so well that without words, you can look at them and understand exactly what’s happening in their head. My example of this today: Season 1 Episode 5.

Rick and Shane are in the forest and, Shane, just for a moment, trains his gun on Rick. We can see that, because he believes Lori and Carl should be his and that Rick will get his family killed and just all of these threads that have been building up over the course of the season, Shane is driven to the point of considering murdering his best friend. This tells us so much about Shane, reveals so much about what will happen later with this character in the show and it is just so well acted. Jon Bernthal really is amazing.

But the scene isn’t over yet, it’s never that simple. Dale enters.

Shane lowers his gun and our view moves to Dale’s face. We can see that he knows what’s happening here. In season 2 Dale tells Shane “I know exactly what kind of man you are.” We can see Dale learning what kind of man Shane is. Right here. The best part? Throughout this entire sequence, only one word is uttered. That’s damn good film making if you ask me.

I don’t know if this insight is really all that deep or interesting but it’s a moment that I loved and thought was worth sharing. Talking about this kind of stuff, to me, feels implicitly pretentious but I just couldn’t help myself. Thanks for reading!

[ramblinganthropologist]

Aftershock

Summary: Joker finds it hard to adjust to a new Normandy, and it’s not just because of the leather seats. What the fuck do you even say to the guy you got killed because you wouldn’t abandon ship?

---

Alright. He had this.

Joker was doing his best not to fidget as he sat there, waiting. On the other side of the door, he could hear the conversation. His new boss was introducing the newest member of the team to what they had been working on while he was out. For most people, that was normal.

Problem was, his boss was the Illusive Man and the other guy in the room had died two years ago.

Honestly, he still couldn't believe it. Even when the man had come to him to swipe him from the Alliance, it sounded like a fantasy. After all, even the best scientists couldn't bring back the dead – fuck, they couldn't even fix his bones. The fact he was insisting that somehow he managed to...

It still hurt to think about. Joker had tried to avoid thinking about it over the last two years, but there was no denying the fact he had gotten the first human Spectre killed in his attempt to go down with the Normandy. It was impossible to – whenever he saw any of the old crew, it was there in their eyes.

Like he needed reminding.  Every time he closed his eyes he could still see the commander drifting further into space.  

Speaking of the commander... he could hear footsteps. Shepard had always been a light walker – he was pretty sure Chakwas had said he walked on his toes too damn much. Something about arthritis or something; maybe Cerberus reinforced his toe joints. That's what he would've done anyway if he was in charge of putting the man back together.

That, and maybe throwing a dick in. The commander deserved that much.

“The fuck is going on...”

A soft, Irish-accented voice sent a shiver up Joker's spine. It was a voice he would have never expected to hear again, at least not live. There were already a few Shepard VI's out there, but they never got the accent right. This one was right on the money.

He got to watch as the man of the hour entered the room, his back to him. Joker felt his heart stop, then restart at the sight of Shepard walking through the door like two years hadn't just passed.  He looked... whole. Alive. Not being sucked into the vacuum of space.

“Hey, Commander. Just like old times, huh?”

Joker's mouth worked before his brain did. It was a common affliction he was often used to dealing with. Honestly, he had wanted to at least, you know, apologize for getting the guy killed and all. That was going to have to wait for later, because the man of the hour turned to face him.

They'd fixed his eye.

“Joker?” Two blue eyes blinked – he probably wasn't used to seeing out of both. Couldn't exactly blame the guy if he was adjusting to double vision all over again. He looked weird without the scar cutting through the right side of his face.

Luckily, he had plenty of open wounds glowing bright fucking red to make up for it.

Joker's stomach flopped. Shepard's face had a long cut along his jaw and across his right eye. You could almost see under the skin, to the glowing implants that hadn't finished healing over just yet. Maybe a few more months under would have closed that up, but they hadn't had the time. Now they were just big gaping slices.

His weak knees shook, but he stayed firm as the commander walked through the door. At least he was still the same shrimpy height – came up to about his jaw in the heavy boots he wore. Joker braced for anything. Hell, he'd probably deserve getting biotic blasted into a wall at this point. Hopefully they had a medic on hand for all the bones he was about to break.

“Wasn't expecting to see you here.”

Shepard's eyes and voice were as calm as ever as they started walking, Joker just a half step behind. With the bigger guys – like their old XO – he'd be almost two. Shepard was slowing down for him probably, given they both dealt with the same issue of having to run after bigger people. He was a good guy that way.

“Look whose talking, I saw you get spaced.”

Open mouth, insert broken foot into shattered jaw. Joker regretted it the moment the words left his mouth. Immediately he braced for the biotics, or at least to be told to fuck off. Neither of those came. In the end, it wasn't this Shepard's style.

Instead, he offered an awkward grin that didn't quite reach his repaired eye. “Yeah... well, I got better. Mostly.”

His hand twitched towards the gaping open wound on his jaw, but stopped somewhere around his shoulder. Then it went back to his side, looping into the empty holster where a little red pistol should have been.

Last Joker had heard, his sister had that. It was one of the few things  they had found from the commander, and it had been in so many pieces it looked like somebody had smashed it with a hammer. Probably would've matched its owner now.

A lump formed in Joker's throat. “Look-”

“Hopefully the implants heal up. I really don't enjoy walking around like a living light display.” Another awkward grin. “Besides, I've been told red makes me look too ruddy. Think I could hack them to blue without breaking anything?”

Sometimes, it was hard to understand Shepard. Joker chalked it up to a biotic thing, or maybe it was brain damage from one of those N7 training missions. It was one of those moments where he just couldn't get what was going on under that mop of red hair.

He would've been mad. Shepard should have been ready to fucking kill him... he would've deserved it, after all.

“Just don't turn your pancreas off, it barely functions now.” He fell back on jokes as they started to walk towards the window. Their new ride was waiting for them – all it needed was a name. At least this helped him feel better, even as the guilt ate at his stomach.

“You think they would've replaced that.” Shepard shrugged his shoulders. “Anyway, you're supposed to show me something? I hope it's a new hamster cage, I need something small and furry in my life again.”

Leave it to the commander to fall back on his husbandry. Still, it allowed Joker to grin a little as he approached the window. Below them, the SR-2 slowly cruised into view. Thanks to the angle, the pilot got a perfect view of his CO's face. Both of Shepard's eyes widened as he braced against the glass as if he was seeing his lover at the spaceport again.

“It's good to be home, huh commander?”

Even through everything, Joker had to smile as they started their descent towards the docking bay. In a matter of hours, they would be in the air again. It would be like it was before... or at least that's what he hoped for as he limped behind his commanding officer.

But... he still couldn't shake the feeling in his stomach.

---

“You seem upset, Mr. Moreau.”

Yeah, anyone would be with fucking EDI in the cockpit.

Joker shot a glare over his left shoulder as he leaned back in his seat. “I'm fine, EDI. Don't try to play any AI mind games on me.”

“That is not in my programming.” A likely story. It was built by the Illusive Man, therefore it got his asshole personality. “A data scan shows elevated heart rate and - “

He tuned the AI out as it rambled off his symptoms. Instead, he kept his eyes on the glass in front of him. Right then, they were in a holding pattern at a docking bay. The shore party had left about two hours ago, and the lack of echoing gunfire gave him the feeling things were going pretty well. Shepard could be the model of ammo conservation for how he tried to use his words over a pistol. It would have been admirable, but it stopped being so when people tried to shoot him anyway.

Still, he tried. A for effort.

“- decreased serotonin. Your focus is off.”

EDI's voice drew him back to reality. He glanced over at the blue orb to his left. It was flashing, probably waiting for his input. So Joker turned his chair around so he could ignore the damn thing and its blue light. Let it wait, it wasn't its business anyway.

“The shore party is returning from their mission and heading to decontamination.”

That made him sit up in his seat. He could see them now, off to the left and heading for the docking bay. Apart from some dirty armor, the trio looked pretty good. Even better, he was getting a call to Alliance command. Guess they had gotten the guys out after all.

“Leave it to Shepard to talk his way out of shit.” He turned in his chair, towards the Normandy's entrance. It would open with a slight hiss once decontamination was complete and everyone was safe. After that, Garrus would head to the battery to calibrate the stick up his ass, Mordin would go play god in a lab, and...

He frowned as he watched the door hiss. The three stepped into the small hallway, weapons holstered. Mordin was talking about three hundred miles a minute about something, with the other two party members giving their tech input. Leave it to a bunch of nerds to come up with something like that.

“Commander Shepard has returned to the ship. XO Shepard stands relieved.”

Joker watched as the only human in the party nodded towards EDI. He held his breath, watching as the man's eyes started to slide towards him. Just as they started, they stopped dead. Then his shoulders sagged under his black armor and he turned on his heel to walk to the nearest terminal to send off a message.

“Right... good talk.”

The words died under his breath as he turned in his chair back to facing out to space. Once Shepard gave the order, they'd be back in FTL drive to the next planet that needed his special touch. Another mission where he wouldn't look at him.

There were 7 of those now.

“Mr. Moreau, your-”

Man, he wished that damn thing had a mute button.

Joker shot the blue orb a dirty look as his fingers found the controls. Might as well be ready for when his commanding officer needed him to do his job or something. Better yet, it made it less likely for EDI to want to continue the conversation. He might not like the AI, but he was learning how to fuck with it.

“I'm fine, EDI.” Even he had to wince at his tone. With any luck, the AI wouldn't pick it up. Of course, its damn orb surface was flashing like a Mass Relay on red sand, so it was working through something big. Whatever it was, it could shove it up its nonexistent ass.

Where would that be on an AI anyway? In the central core? He'd go down there and shove it in himself if it kept him from having to hear it.

“Your stress levels suggest otherwise.” Something about that even, pleasant voice really pissed him off. Sadly, it wasn't work breaking another finger trying to find a mute button. All Joker could do was sit there and scowl at the damn thing. No matter what he did, EDI just kept flashing away with that metaphorical dose of red sand.

He was pretty sure the Illusive Man had set that port up in the cockpit just to fuck with him. What a nice guy.

“We've got the Collectors on our ass, anyone would be stressed.”

“Your stress spikes whenever Commander Shepard returns from a mission. Most evidence would suggest the opposite.”

Well, EDI could shove that up their nonexistent ass too. Hopefully it was big enough to fit all that. Maybe with a little pushing, he could make it work.

“The guy gives people ulcers, what can I say.” He shrugged, carefully, to avoid breaking something. “Never know when he's going to bring some new alien in as a friend.”

Speaking of – his com channel was blinking in the way it did when Shepard was trying to call him. This button he definitely risked breaking a finger on as he pounded it. Judging from the lack of static, he was out of uniform.

“Joker? We're going to need to head back to the Citadel. The council wants to see me.”

Normally, it was hard to tell how Shepard felt about things. As long as he had his meds, he was pretty calm and even tempered. Even off them, it wasn't that bad. This, though? Joker had to wince as the pure annoyance leaked through like never before. Hell, he sounded like he was gritting his teeth as he spoke. That... was new.

“The Citadel? That's a bit of a jump. They can't do it over a vid?”

He swore he heard Shepard growl, but that was just impossible – he was pretty sure the man's voice didn't get that low. “Believe me, I asked. I guess they want to bother me into my second grave.”

That made Joker's stomach drop even further as he primed the Normandy to go. The ship was humming to life around him, and he felt it through his chair as he went through the motions. Normally, this was one of the best parts of his day. When he was in space, with FTL drive in high speed, it felt like he was floating.

Now, though? He felt like a rock lodged in cement at the bottom of the Marianas Trench.

“We'll be there in about 12 hours.”

“Great. I'm going to...” Shepard paused, voice faltering. When he spoke again, it was calmer in the way he got when he was painfully aware of how in control he had to be. Joker hated that. “I'm going to get some work done. Thanks, Joker.”

The line cut after that, leaving the helmsman alone with his thoughts and a growing sense of anxiety deep in the pit of his stomach. Jumping to FTL drive didn't exactly make it easier. They said that feeling motion sick was just psychosomatic, but damn if his gut didn't roll through the first few pulses and waves as they hit the relay. Normally the blue light and tingle that rang through his aching bones did wonders for that, but now he just felt cold.

Cold and needing to be anywhere else but in that cockpit. Damn it all...

---

Everything hurt, and that was saying something.

Joker wasn't having the best day as he limped away from the cockpit. All he wanted right then was to go to bed and maybe try to shove something down his throat in the way of food. Of course, the doc would insist he take his meds before any of that. She got all frowny when he didn't, and there was the whole bone breaking thing he had to worry about, so thus the limping towards anywhere but a place to sleep.

Why did the medbay have to be so fucking far?

The ride down the elevator made his insides rattle, especially as it hit the floor and opened up. He was probably lucky he hadn't broken something as he made his way out. There was plenty of noise here, but none of it could really distract him as he limped away from the elevator towards the waiting medbay and his pills.

How big was it going to be today? Fuck...

Normally, when he got in this kind of mood Joker didn't notice much around him unless he was about to walk into it. There could have been naked dancing krogan as far as he was concerned, it just didn't register. Unless four testicles hit him in the face, he had tunnel vision. Yet, there they were metaphorically tea-bagging him.

What was Shepard doing in the observation area?

Joker cocked an eyebrow as he crept a little closer. No doubt about it, the person sitting there was Shepard – he was the only one with hair that red on the Normandy. He wasn't moving either, just... sitting there, facing the open window.

He should have just kept walking on to take his pills. After all, biotics were weird. Maybe it was some space meditation technique to keep their brains from frying over. Yet he kept walking towards his commanding officer in a perfect example of curiosity killing the cat.

Oof... even thinking that hurt.

“Commander?”

Shepard didn't respond as he entered the observation room. With his back to the door, he was just sitting there, staring out the window. Joker was practically on top of him, but he never broke his sight on what was in front of him.

“Hey, you ok there, Shepard?”

With his words, Joker broke a spell. Shepard snapped to life, and sweat trickled down his brow as he rounded on the man. His skin was practically white, and his eyes were as wide as softballs as his breathing began to slow. Before that, it was like he hadn't been breathing at all.

“Shepard are you-”

“Close the window.” He added a “please” at the last second as he shut his eyes tightly. The pilot didn't need to be told twice. In fact, he almost broke a fist hitting the button. The window shut closed on them both, and the room dimmed slightly before the lights had time to adjust.

Then it was just him and humanity's fist Spectre, sitting like two idiots in a dark room.

Joker felt the sweat trickle down his brow as he settled in. “Am I interrupting some biotic thing? You're not going to take a wall out, are you?”

Shepard let out an uneasy laugh as he ran a hand down his sweaty face. “No... just trying some self administered exposure therapy. I don't think it's working very well unfortunately.”

He opened his eyes – they were smaller now. “Don't you have a date with Dr. Chakwas in the medbay right about now?”

Yeah, but that was before the universe stopped moving.

Joker felt as though he had been hit by a bolt of lightning as he stared at his commanding officer, and then to the closed window. Details were streaming in at about a thousand kilometers a second, and he was about to hit the mass relay at “I'm a fucking moron” station. He tended to visit that one a lot – it was his favorite those days.

It was hard to make his mouth move, but Shepard was expecting something. “Well, had to make sure you were keeping on your weird biotic regimen.”

“Don't worry, I am.” Shepard smiled and his stomach flopped. The man stood, attempting to stretch casually. His form was far too stiff for that – it just came off looking painful. “Come on, I had to talk to her about something anyway. Might as well get it over with, right?”

He was doing it again – the biotic always cared way too damn much about other people. He looked like he was about to keel over, but Shepard was trying to put him at ease. It made Joker's stomach flop uncomfortably as he stood as well, bones creaking at the effort. Nothing but his heart was breaking right then.

Damn it all...

“Commander... I'm sorry.”

Shepard smiled at him again as he waved it off. “Nothing to apologize for, like I said I have to stop by there. She wanted to take a look at my implants and make sure I hadn't tried to hack them yet. You make a joke once about trying to match your aesthetic...”

He chuckled to himself as the door opened on them both. The pilot wanted to say more, but he realized as they made it through the mess that there was no point. He might have blamed himself – and plenty of others did too – but Shepard never would.

God, he wish he would...

All he could do was stare at the man's back as he threaded his way towards the medbay. Whatever else he wanted to say died in his throat as he watched a risen Spectre act as though this was Tuesday for him. Hell, he was fucking glowing thanks to those implants!

Glowing because of him...

“Joker, you ok back there?”

The man stopped – blue eyes were focused on him. Words were born and died in the space between the two, in what felt like a lifetime to the pilot. In the end, he swallowed them down. None of them would do him any good anyway.

“Just keeping up. Got a little stiff making sure we don't crash into shit.”

Shepard smiled and nodded. His footsteps slowed ever so slightly – how could a man's pace make him feel worse? “Yeah, that whole not crashing into shit thing is pretty important. Planets get mad when we make our own docking bay.”

They both laughed over that, but it was anyone's guess if that was genuine. After all, they were headed to the medbay with a mountain of weight between them. The best Joker could do was have his commander's back, like he should have that day.

Maybe it would've been easier if Shepard hated him... then again, he was pretty good at doing that himself those days.

Fuck....

[shinidamachu]

The One With The Fantasy Type Thing - Part II

Summary: I wrote Part I of this story months ago and people on Fanfiction.Net asked me for a sequel with Kagome’s fantasy (which I was already going to do, anyway) so here we go.

Word Count: 3610  Genre: get down and dirty  Fandom: InuYasha  Pairing: Inukag  Format: oneshot  AO3 Link: 🌹  Fanfic.Net Link: 🌹

“It’s not like I don’t want to do it!” InuYasha explained again — maybe for the fourth time that afternoon — and she rolled her eyes for what he was absolutely sure it was the ninth. Since the night before, the subject has been a hard impasse between them.

“Geez, I didn’t ask you to do anything!” Without wasting any more time, Kagome resumed the boring task of pick up, fold and then put the freshly dry clothes in the basket he held. “See, that’s why I didn’t want to tell you in the first place! I knew you would totally freak out.”

“I ain’t freakin’ out.” Doe-eyes turned upward at the obvious lie. Tenth time, now.

“Just let it go, okay? It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not that big of a deal?” He couldn’t keep his tone from raising. “How is it not that big of a deal? You want to have se-”

“Hello, Mrs. Ishida!” Kagome greeted the elderly woman he had been too overwhelmed to noticed with a shaky smile. “B-beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“Miko-Sama.” The woman bowed respectfully and restarted walking. Kagome waited for a safe distance to speak again, the mortified pallor of her cheeks giving way to vivid rubor.

“Do you think she heard us?”

“I think she is way past the whole hearing thing.”

She playfully punched his arm.

“I’m serious!”

“So am I.”

Kagome took a deep breath and when the words came out, they sounded just a little bit higher than a whisper.

“Supposing I had actually asked you to do it, there would be nothing to worry about. I can handle myself.” One more fabric was set in the basket. “I did defeat Naraku, after all.”

“Oi, don’t act like you did it all by yourself!”

“I’m a priestess in the full strength of my spiritual powers.” She proceeded, like he hadn’t even spoken.

“Now you’re just bragging.”

“And if worst comes to worst, I can always use the beads.” His wife caressed the rosary for emphasis.

In spite of knowing she was joking and the fiery sensation her proximity caused on him, InuYasha put up a grumpy face.

“Great! Now I’m just dying to do it!”

Kagome chuckled.

“Then forget about it.”

“Why do you even want to do it?” That woman would never stop surprising him, would she? Every time he thought he had her figured out, she found a different way to catch him off guard.

“Because…” Kagome took the basket off his hands and placed it on the ground. Arms tangled around his neck, she stood on her tiptoes while InuYasha automatically involved her waist. “I have loved you as a human…” She smacked a kiss on his left cheek. “I have loved you as a half demon…” Another peck on right one. “And if you let me, I want to love each and every part of you.”

Before they could get interrupted by another passer-by, for the briefest of moments, their lips met. Kagome smiled at him like she hasn’t just lighted his entire body up with the innocent gesture.

She always had a way of making him feel the luckiest, most loved moron alive.

Damn it all.

“Fine, let’s try.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but if you ever feel that I’m going too far…” InuYasha didn’t need to finish.

“Deal!”

His shaking hands propped awkwardly on her waist as he tried to reciprocate the kiss over the crescent concern eroding the edges of his stomach. Kagome pressed her lips on his with urgency and traced down his nude upper body to find destination at the knot of his hakama. She untied it with all the expertise their private moments had granted her, letting a hand slide inside. InuYasha’s eyes opened wide, his pulse resounded through his ears, blocking everything else. Vainly wondering if she could hear it too, he watched her frown then pull away. Her hand retracted as well, a feeble smile on her face.

“Having second thoughts?” It was more of a statement than a question. She blinked to observe him and even in the dancing candle light it felt like Kagome stared at his soul.

“Let’s just keep going, alright?” Her skepticism lingered on as she considered him for a moment, then she was sucking on his neck, moving against InuYasha in a torturous friction. Kagome guided his hand underneath her loosened yukata, encouraging him to caress the smooth skin of her breast.

Paralyzed, all he managed to do was worry about his claws. Have they always been that sharp? It was known that if InuYasha sticked to the plan, allowing his youkai half to surface, they would grow even longer. And her skin was so delicate...

Kagome exhaled heavily, the hot air tickling his throat.

“You know we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, don’t you?” He let his hand fall to the side as she backed down to face him, sincerity overflowing from every feature and kindness from every word. “The whole point of doing this is that both of us can enjoy. If you feel obligated to do it just because I-”

“It’s not about that. I mean, it is a little. How can I ever deny you anything when you’ve given me so much already?”

“You don’t owe me anything, stupid.”

He knew she meant it. It was never like that with them. Reciprocity wasn’t demanded, it just flowed to and from each other when the “I’m sorrys” weren’t enough or the “thank yous” were superfluous.

But he also knew himself and there was no way he would miss out an opportunity to compensate her nonetheless, jumping on every chance to make her as happy as she made him.

“Truth is… It’s hard to let go. Protecting you comes easily to me and doing this goes against each instinct I have. If I lose control, I…”

InuYasha looked away. With Tessaiga abandoned in the living room to better serve their purposes and his feelings so rawly spilled in the open, InuYasha felt more naked than he actually was.

Her hand found his chin, pushing his attention back to her as gentle as a sweet dream.

“I trust you. Don’t you think it’s time for you to do the same?”

“Maybe you’re right.” He muttered, realizing the only way to ensure he would never hurt her was learning to tame the beast inside to his will. It wasn’t something that could be done by being evasive.

“Maybe? Of course I’m right!” Her ever positive attitude plucked a smile out of him, which she then reciprocated with her own. “Besides... you didn’t seem that worried last night.”

Indeed, she still had the small purple bruises to prove it.

“Keh, that was different. I was… distracted.”

“Fine, then all we need to do is distract you again.” Suddenly her lips parted in silent exclamation, eyes glowing with mischief. “And I know just how!” Kagome hasted off his lap, not bothering to explain a thing. It wasn’t until she was half way through the room that she turned, smirked and lifted a commanding finger at him. “Stay.”

InuYasha narrowed his eyes.

Content, she walked out the door, leaving him stranded, confused and semi erect.

InuYasha’s ears twitched towards every sound she made, trying to compensate for what he couldn’t see. Footsteps, fabric flapping around and falling to the ground. More footsteps. He realized what his wife was up to only a second before she graced his vision again.

His head tilted to the right on its own and a wail — which irritatingly enough validated her prior dog joke — fell off his lips.

Kagome stood there, looking every bit the personification of his wildest dreams.

Her dark locks contrasted the white garment, which hugged her curves in a loose temptation. The lower green garb ended shortly after her ass, providing a neat view of her fair legs — memories of the night prior, when InuYasha had them up as he thrusted into her with everything he had, invaded his mind.

Sneaky wench.

Kagome started crossing her way back to him. She didn’t get too far.

InuYasha had her pinned to the cold, rough ground before she could even notice he had left the futon.

“That’s cheating.”

“That’s being creative.”

She grabbed the tresses on each side of his head and pulled him down to her lips. This time, he allowed himself to relish the marvelous feeling of her tongue touching his, demanding passage.

Her scent — which InuYasha has been determined to ignore since she had climbed onto his lap earlier — was now an undeniable presence, taking him by the hand, letting him know just how much she was ready for him, making him forget all the reasons why they shouldn’t be doing this.

A pair of hands impatiently tried to remove his hakama. InuYasha did the best he could to help her, kicking the damn thing off all the way. He broke the kiss to sink himself in her neck, giving the mark from the last night a twin. Kagome sighed in sheer approval, wandering fingers finding his erection to caress it with slow strokes and InuYasha hissed past his clenched teeth.

Soon enough, the unsettling energy he manages to keep sealed for the majority of time cracked against him wave after wave and rather than fight it, InuYasha embraced the pulsation that coursed through his body for once, letting it wake his most primitive parts.

Oddly, the transformation felt almost natural — as if his fangs were always meant to be that elongate and his claws that lengthy — the only anomaly being the sensation of watching himself from afar and yet experience everything amplified to the highest.

Now that this form wasn’t casting his conscience away like it used to, InuYasha was comfortable. He wasn’t himself and at the same time he was. It was confusing and exciting. Frightening and new. Definitively better than becoming human, when he didn’t feel like himself at all.

“InuYasha?” Her ministrations had ceased, giving place to a wicked ache.

Her bust rose and fell underneath his weigh — nothing but fragile woven and repressed tension between them — and InuYasha dragged his red eyes to hers, waiting for a reaction. Kagome reached for his cheek, softly tracing what doubtlessly was a violet stripe.

"You can still back down anytime." The resonance of his voice still bewildered him after every sound he made, keen fangs making difficult to talk. Kagome freed his face of her touch.

"No way."

InuYasha clutched her chin and lifted it slightly towards him, their noses brushing.

He waited, but Kagome showed no fear. Instead, she offered him a grin — the one she knew was his undoing —, her gaze defying him to do the very naughty things he was already planning to.

The youkai smashed her mouth with his own, stealing her breath away his sole purpose as their tongues gravitate towards one another. Fingers in his hair, Kagome clung to him, eager for more. InuYasha held her still and right when she thought he would give her what she wanted, he nibbled her lower lip and deliberately stretched it to the limit — not so hard to cause pain, just enough to let her know what she got herself into.

She moaned, her eyes half-lidded. Opening a devilish smile, InuYasha ripped off the piece of clothing that separated their chests, earning a gasp from the arching woman underneath him. The sound echoed through the room and right then they were the only people in the world.

Her breasts immediately got captured into the intense care of his palms and he went back to kissing her swollen lips. Kagome’s hands were everywhere, a constant distraction mapping his body and making his cock twitch at the minimum sign of approximation.

Using his nose to lift her chin, exposing her throat to him, InuYasha ran his tongue from there all the way down to the narrow valley between her boobs, avoiding the pieces of woven that somehow survived his claws and leaving behind a hot trail of saliva. He covered a nipple with his mouth, not at all surprised when the whole area got promptly decorated with goosebumps. It was so damn easy to cause them. Kagome held him there — writhing, wailing — as InuYasha took the nipple on his teeth, biting it slightly. What wouldn’t he give then to see her expression and whisper filthy things in her ear? Her head, however, was thrown back in pleasure and besides his mouth was currently occupied. In the end he decided it was just as good.

It didn’t take long for his wife to retaliate — she went straight for his ears —, but InuYasha was one step ahead. Gripping Kagome’s hands before she could achieve her goal, he nailed them above her head and undid the red tie that completed the improvised uniform to knot her wrists with it. He couldn’t have her talented fingers wandering free and risking ending things too soon.

It was true the measure could only restrain her movements to an extent, but InuYasha had no doubt she was gonna behave. In fact, he looked forward to making sure of that.

Kagome, however, willingly succumbed to his commands. Her surrender came in a heavy exhalation and she bit the veery lip he had nibbled on to hide a grin. It was impossible not to grin back. Redirectioning his attention to her breasts, he picked up where he left off, circling her nipple with his tongue and using his hands to lift her skirt up.

A growl reverberated through the room when InuYasha pushed himself right against her damp folds and he realized, with contained amaze, that it was coming from him. No wonder her scent was so strong — apparently his wench decided to repeat the mischief from the night before, trading the strange underwear that used to cover her most intimate parts in the past to nothing at all. ‘An improvement’, she had told him and InuYasha couldn’t agree more. Searching for friction, he rubbed his lenght across her again, making sure to brush over her clit.

“InuYasha, now!”, she cried, and in a regular day that would have been all it would take for him to obey, gladly giving her whatever she desired, for how long she needed until she was satisfied, but this time he wanted her to beg for it. InuYasha relentlessly moved his hips, scraping his claws down her belly, then back up as he watched his wife with a cocked eyebrow. If a youkai was what she wanted, a youkai she shall get. “Please!”

Only then he thrusted into her.

It was such a powerful feeling, whenever he became them, and InuYasha knew in that moment his youkai self wouldn’t content itself with little — after all those years of restrain, he had no idea how starving it was until it had a bite. Now there was no stopping it.

InuYasha pulled back leisurely, slamming in once more with a hard push. Then another, then another — always spaced, always hitting just the right spot — causing their heated bodies to swing on the floor.

“F-faster!” Kagome whispered, choppy moans escaping her clenched teeth. InuYasha laughed and grasped her waist, increasing his pace to an frenetic rhythm.

“Like this?”

“Yes! Yes, just like that!”

He went on for several minutes, building her climax until she was dangerously over the edge... then returned to slow, tough assaults, starting it all again, knowing her release would be even more intense if he did.

“InuYasha!” She protested, but he ignored her, focusing on going deeper and biting her ear. Palms on the floor on each side of her head, InuYasha pierced his claws to it for support when the time came to accelerate things again. And accelerate he did.

Kagome was a nook of pure ecstasy. Her legs tangled around his hips, urging him to keep moving while still trapping him there. InuYasha speeded up, feeling himself getting closer and closer. Finally, her muscles tightened and she screamed at the same time he let it all go with a ravenous groan.

Once the high worn out, InuYasha reluctantly pulled out of her and ripped off the tie on her wrists. Kagome lowered her arms, immediately massaging the marks it had left. The sigh of relief she made as she did so spoke directly to his throbbing cock. As anticipated, he was still hard as a rock.

“I ain’t done with you yet.” InuYasha murmured in her ear, smiling when she held her breath. “On all fours.” He ordered, giving her space to obey. Getting rid of the remaining rags hanging from her shoulders, Kagome started to get in position without a question.

The green material still covered most of her rear, but what he saw was more than enough to make his hand slip to his cock, stroking in anticipation as he waited. The last thing he remembered was Kagome looking back at him with a convidative smile, then the fabric of her skirt was tearing to pieces under his claws and he was grazing his tongue up her thigh, cleaning the juice that dropped down.

Getting to her center, InuYasha paid a long lick to her walls, tasting himself, making his wife tremble and whimper. He aligned at her entrance and, wasting no time, took what was his.

With renewed appetite, he shoved himself inside her moving as fast as his body allowed. There was something about having her that way — skin glistening with sweat, hair slicking on her back, his cock getting in and out of her — that brought a nasty smile to his lips.

Oh, if the villagers could see their precious miko now, getting fucked hard and good by the half demon. Part of him wanted them to know just how hot she was for him. Part of him wanted to make her scream so loud that she would wake them all up and let them know it herself.

The combined sound of their moans and flesh hitting flesh was making him insane. His hands left the grope on her ass to grab her boob and pull her hair, leaving him free to suck on her neck and thrust harder. Kagome gasped in approval.

“Touch yourself.” Demanded InuYasha, his breath so close it blew a few strands of her hair. He liberated her from his embrace in order to let her do as she was told. And she did. Turning back to catch a last glimpse of him, Kagome lowered her upper body until her cheek was laid on the floor and one of the arms she had used for support disappeared underneath her body.

Never ceasing his moviments, InuYasha took the opportunity to run his claws up and down her spine as she shivered compulsively, getting louder by the minute, his name the only distingable word falling off her mouth.

Then Kagome tightened around him, reduced to a shaking pile of mess as he rode her orgasm, searching to amplify his own. His arm snaked around her waist and he rolled his hips once, twice, until finally erupting inside her one more time.

InuYasha pulled out — quivering a bit himself — and his wife crawled away, the sight almost getting him going again.

“InuYasha?” It was like her voice had just woke him up from an wonderful dream, promptly returning him to his senses. “You’re alright?”

He blinked.

“‘Course.” InuYasha answered with a smile, until the realization of everything they had just done slowly made it fade. “You?” “My knees are a little sore, but other than that… I’ve never been better.” Kagome giggled and laid on the floor, looking beyond satisfied. That didn’t diminished his guilt. InuYasha rushed to her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He repeated, planting kisses on the hurting spot between one apology and the other.”

“Hey now, It’s okay.” She reassured, hands petting his hair. “It was totally worth it.”

“Crazy woman.”

“Oh, don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.”

Before InuYasha got the chance to reply, he noticed the absolute chaos of shreds that circluded them. He grabbed the closest one. Destroying them had felt like such a good idea at the time.

“Damnit!” Kagome looked at him as if he was a boy who had just broken his favorite toy. Which he had.

“I can sew a new one, you know?”

He considered it for a while, then shook his head, conformed.

“Don’t bother. I’ll just ruin it too.” InuYasha threw the fabric away and kissed her forehead. “Besides... as fun as this was, in the end of the day I’d rather have you wearing nothing at all.”

“I’m fine with that.” Kagome said, lifting her head so she could catch his lips with hers. He reciprocated while sneaking his arms behind her back and knees, picking her up and taking her to their futon.

After covering a sleepy Kagome with the first blanket he could find — the woman always gets chilly somehow — he joined her, trying to figure out how he had got so damn lucky. InuYasha used to think about Kagome as an anchor, always keeping him centered. Now he had learned she was more like a lantern, lightening the way, guiding him through the dark. There was nothing he couldn’t do with her by his side.

Watching the serene expression on her face as she slept, he was taken by an unconditional truth. A truth she had proved to him over and over. A truth he had known since forever, and yet a truth that amazed him whenever he was faced with it.

“You really love me, huh?”

“What gave me away?”

A/N: thank you so much for reading it! I can't tell you guys how much it means to me. Oh and don't forget to let me know what you think.

Also, tagging: @keichanz @xfangheartx @mcornilliac @petri808 and @xxracheyxx because they seemed to have enjoyed the first one.

[foreversillythings]

with the taste of pomegranate on our lips chapter four

part two chthonios chapter one what dwells below

The storm raged on as Gale pulled her to her feet and his hand stayed with hers as she climbed aboard his chariot. His fingers slipped from hers then and she grasped the front lip of the chariot, her heart racing in her throat. Gale’s arm came around behind her and she felt a little safer with him as a barrier. He took the reins and his side pressed against hers, her skin registering the contact with a shiver. The wind roared and she couldn’t think of her mother, she wouldn’t. This was a chance at freedom but if she thought of Seeder, she would surely run back to her. Madge had a right to her own life; it was time she seized it.

And then they were off.

She screamed, or at least she thought she did; she could hear nothing over the shriek of the wind in her ears. They moved so fast everything blurred around her and she squeezed the rim of the chariot so tight her hands hurt. The wind was so impossibly cold as it slammed against her and she hunched forward, her eyes closed as if that would somehow help. How could he bear to travel like this? They flew over Greece, the stars white streaks above their heads and rain soaking them through. Her stomach was sick, her heart hammered and then came the most horrific groaning sound, loud enough it even drowned out the storm. 

Her eyes opened and she recoiled, the very earth splitting apart before them. The chasm that remained was deep, dark and fathomless and her heart stopped as they hurtled towards it. She screamed again as they plunged into the abyss and she twisted until she could press her face into Gale. The cold grew sharper and her stomach simply left her body as they descended into the realm of the dead. It seemed to take ages, but was probably only moments, and by the time the chariot levelled out, she was shaking so badly she could hardly believe she was still standing. Her breathing was heavy and her heart had restarted with a vengeance, beating so hard it was making her chest hurt. 

“Welcome to the underworld,” Gale said and Madge looked at the world around her. It was dark, no moonlight, no starlight, only the glow of torchlight to push back the shadows. Those torches lit a path to the edge of a black river and then restarted again on the other side, weaving a road off into the distance. There were people lined up alongside the river’s edge and a chill stole across her skin.

“The souls of the dead,” Gale said. “They await the ferry.”

Madge stared at them, uneasiness heavy in her stomach. She was not used to death but it was everywhere here, bleeding even from the air. It made her shiver and the chariot moved towards the river. The horses showed no signs of stopping as they neared the water’s edge and she looked up at Gale with a dry throat.

“Must we too wait for the ferryman?” she asked and he shook his head.

“No, we need wait for no one. To be king does have its advantages.”

Madge’s eyes widened and she held her breath as the horses stepped off the ground, but their hooves didn’t sink into the water. Rather they walked across it as if it were made of stone and she gasped. They reached the other side and Madge turned to look back at the river, the people on the far side small and distant. She thought perhaps she could see a boat in the distance and she could hardly believe they had crossed by chariot. How was that possible?

“How did you do that?” she asked and for the first time since she’d called for his aid, Gale smiled. It was not a warm or happy smile, rather an old and tired one. 

“It was a gift. Styx is the river but also a goddess and when I came to be lord of the underworld, she gave my horses the power to cross unaided. A present to the king of this realm.”

Madge looked at the river again. A goddess? How strange the world truly was and finally there was a seed of something exciting within her, the first bloom of wonder at the world she’d only dreamed of. There was so much magic to discover and though she was terrified, she wanted to see it all. That feeling stayed with her as Gale’s chariot continued on, not on the lighted path but off to the left of it. The horses moved through the darkness with ease and confidence and the torches grew distant, their light fading and fading until it was gone. The world was blacker than any night she’d ever encountered and she couldn’t see a single thing. Suddenly her wonder began to smother under anxiety. The moon and stars had always brightened her nights and she shifted closer to Gale. He was solid and warm beside her and she craved that in the chill and the shadows. 

It felt like eons before she could make out light in the distance, a few tiny points that grew and grew as they drew nearer. It made her heart glad and she leaned forward eagerly. As they came closer the source of those lights became clear and Madge sucked in a breath. Looming before them was a hulking black palace with torches burning on the walls. It dwarfed her tiny cottage and there was something cold in its height and glossy black stone. It was magnificent certainly, fit for a king, but it did not look like a home. Again she drew closer to Gale, so close this time their bodies touched. Gale’s breath seemed to hitch and Madge felt fire in her cheeks, but she did not move away. She was in a strange place, she had run away from home and he was the only steady thing in the world. 

“Welcome to my…” Gale trailed off awkwardly and she felt her chest squeeze. Without really thinking about it, she reached over and squeezed his hand as it rested with the reins against the edge of the chariot. He stiffened and she felt embarrassment burn through her like a fire. She meant to snatch her hand back but he shifted his own until he could hook his thumb around hers. Her heart fluttered and there were things in her stomach, but they seemed far too frantic to be butterflies.

“This is my palace,” he finally said and she looked up at it, so huge she had to tilt her head back. 

“It's so big,” she offered and felt foolish for having said it. Gale nodded.

“Yes,” he murmured and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was lonely in so big and empty a house. The chariot pulled to a stop by the front steps and Gale turned over his hand so he could grasp hers properly. She felt her stomach flip flop around and was glad of the dark to hide her blush.

“You must be very tired, I could show you to your room, if you’d like,” he said and she nodded. He stepped down and then helped her off, his hand still warm in hers. They walked together towards the steps and she huddled closer to him to fight the chill that seemed to burrow its way beneath her skin. The ground was solid beneath her feet but she felt unsteady, the earth silent here as it never was at home. She could feel no life anywhere, not an inkling, a glimmer or a pinprick of it anywhere around her. No voices called to her, the soil did not sparkle with vitality and she felt a loneliness so profound it stole the breath from her lungs. The silence echoed and the adrenaline of her flight from home began to fade. She was a goddess of living things, of flowers and vegetation and fertility, but there was none of that here.

This was the land of the dead.

Maybe she shouldn’t have come.

*

Madge was quiet as he led her to her room, but he couldn’t blame her. She’d fled the only home she’d ever known and come here, to the worst of all places. As much as he wanted to read more into it, he knew she’d only called for his help because she knew no one else to call. Whatever lay between them, it didn’t change the fact that he was the only other person she knew. Of course she’d called for his help, who else was there?

He wanted more than that, he knew that, but now wasn’t the time. She needed a friend, needed comfort and a home, so that’s what she’d have. The underworld was a dim, unhappy place, but maybe they could make it brighter together.

“Here we are,” he said as they stopped in front of the very best of his many empty guest rooms. Madge looked up at him and smiled, but there was so much sadness in it. He wanted to do something, but didn’t know what. It had been so long since he’d had to comfort anyone. Generally he made people unhappy; he didn’t make their tragedies better. For Madge though, he wished he could. 

“Thank you,” she said and he ached at the fear in her eyes. He wanted to soften it, but causing fear was all he knew how to do these days. 

“You don’t need to thank me,” he said and without really thinking about it, he took hold of her other hand too. It was so cold and he cursed this damned place. Already it leached away her warmth. “If there’s anything you need or want, you need only ask for it.”

A faint dusting of pink coloured her cheeks and his heart squeezed. “Thank you,” she said again, very softly, and he had to leave now before he did something foolish. She was frightened and unsure, he wouldn’t take advantage of that. 

“You are welcome to stay here as long as you want,” he said and then let go of her fingers, a jolt screeching through him as she tightened her grip before releasing him. His breathing hitched just a bit and he backed away.

“Goodnight, Madge,” he said, quieter than he’d intended, and she managed the faintest smile.

“Goodnight Gale.”

He forced himself to turn away from her and felt dizzy. He’d dreamed of having her here, but not like this. Not miserable and scared and running away. Madge had brought light and excitement and joy back into his life, he’d figure out some way to do the same for her. 

She made him happy, now, hopefully, he could make her happy too.

*

It was hard to sleep in an unfamiliar place, in an unfamiliar bed and know her mother was somewhere above her worried sick. 

Madge tossed and turned and all she could see in her mind was Seeder wandering Greece begging her to come home. But home felt like a prison and Madge wanted to live. It wasn’t fair to keep her caged in, to keep the whole wide world away from her. She had a right to see things and explore and live.

If only her mother could accept that.

Madge rolled over and tightened the blankets around her. She had to focus on the positives. She was free, she could see and do whatever she wanted and...she was with Gale. His home frightened her, the shadows in her room were too deep, the feel of death made her ill but he was here and he was as sweet and lovely as any man could ever be. He’d taken her in when she had nowhere else to go, he’d offered her sanctuary for as long as she needed it and when he’d held her hand, well nothing had seemed quite as awful as before. She’d hold onto that.

She missed the sun, her plants, even her mother, but she’d figure things out. 

Freedom did not come cheap, but she would seize it.

*

Gale tried to remain calm and regal like the king he was as he waited for Madge in the dining room, but it was difficult. He always felt off-kilter when it came to her, in a way no one else had ever made him feel. This wasn’t his first time eating with a woman, but you’d never guess that from the way his stomach felt. 

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” she said and he inhaled sharply. She stood in the doorway still in her nightdress, her hair tied in a long braid. There was something about seeing her like that, something intimate that flared hope in his blood. It was stupid, he was stupid, but he couldn’t stop himself. He stood abruptly to greet her.

“Good morning, I hope you slept well,” he said and she noticed that he was already dressed and flushed pink.

“Oh, I’ll go get dressed,” she mumbled in embarrassment and he stepped towards her awkwardly, baging his knee into the table leg. It smarted but he bit down on a curse. He was supposed to be making a good impression, not looking like an idiot. 

“You don’t need to. It’s breakfast, sleepwear is fine. I just...I have to start work soon,” he said and she bit her lip. She hesitated for a moment before nodding. He pulled out a chair for her and she sat, the gold of her hair a welcome splash of colour in his drab world.

“Dig in,” he said and she turned her head to smile at him.

“Thank you,” she said and he knew how to be charming and smooth and suave.

“My pleasure,” he said and that was weak, but her cheeks darkened so maybe not a total loss. He sat back down and drank his nectar, his eyes unable to stray from her. How could he cheer her up? Everything she loved, the sun, plants and flowers were nearly impossible here. There had to be some way to give her back the life the underworld had already sapped away, but how?

“IS IT TRUE????” Posy bellowed like some sort of barbarian and barrelled into the room. Madge squeaked and dropped her ambrosia and Gale flinched. Oh damn it.

“Is it-oh my Gloss it is!” Posy squealed and clasped her hands under her chin. Madge stared at her with wide eyes and Gale covered his face with a hand. 

“Posy-” he began but she ignored him like she always did.

“Oh, this is so exciting! I can’t tell you how amazing it is to meet you! I was so afraid Gale would be alone forever, but look, he’s found you!”

“Posy-” he tried again, voice firmer, but she just talked right over him.

“A queen for the underworld and a wife for Gale, this is the best day ever! I’m so happy I might pass out!”

Madge was turning an impossible shade of red and Gale banged a fist against his forehead. 

“POSY,” he said loudly and firmly and she turned to him with a pout. 

“What?”

“We’re not getting married,” he said and hoped no one caught the way his voice tripped over the word. “Madge is merely here seeking sanctuary, which I have given her. That’s it.”

Posy’s pout deepened. “Well, that’s disappointing.”

“Yes, well, that’s how it is,” he said and then turned to Madge. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh no,” she said in a high voice and waved it away. “Don’t be.”

Posy shrugged, her disappointment already shed. “Oh well, still, it's lovely to have you here. We never get visitors, non-dead visitors that is. I’m Posy by the way, goddess of boundaries, crossroads, night, magic, sorcery, witchcraft, necromancy and ghosts.”

“Half of those are the same thing,” he pointed out and Posy ignored him again. 

“I am so happy to meet you, Madge is it? Welcome to the underworld! Do you want a tour? I’d love to show you around.”

Madge blinked and Gale was about to boot Posy from the room, but then Madge smiled. It was small, tentative but genuine and his every bone warmed beneath his skin.

“Yes, thank you. I’d like that.”

“Oh, wonderful! Are you eating breakfast? I’ll join you then and we can go after!” Posy said cheerily and pulled up a chair at the table. She helped herself to ambrosia and nectar and though Gale was probably supposed to be annoyed at this usurpation of his authority, he wasn’t. He always let Posy get away with everything and after she’d won that smile from Madge, he was willing to let her do anything she wanted. She beamed and began to talk again, filling the room up with warm, happy noise and Gale felt so strange sitting there. He hadn’t eaten with anyone in so long and yet here he was. 

Posy was chattering, Madge was smiling softly and for the first time in all his long years of eating in this room, happiness ate with him.

*

And in the world above the air grew cold and storm clouds blotted out the sky. Winds blew fierce across the land and all that lived felt its strength begin to ebb.

A goddess wept and wailed in grief as she wandered in search of her lost daughter and death followed at her heels. 

Life was Seeder’s gift to the world, but in her misery she could not give it. 

In her misery, summer began to die and soon, soon winter would be born.

[hunnybadgerv]

Rest in Pieces | Far Cry 5 | Leah Rook

Summary: Funerals are never easy, but they can be defining.

a/n: Wrote this to get an idea of who Leah was prior to her decision to become a deputy. I wondered what could have derailed her from her chosen course in law. And I realized she’s a country girl at heart who held onto a big little dream until she was the only one left at home to take care of her folks and the land she grew up on.

AO3 Link

Rest in Pieces

A biting winter wind howled down the mountains into the Holland Valley. Leah stood on the back porch and watched the flurries dance in the air obscuring her view of the vast landscape that surrounded the Rook family farm. This land had been in her father’s family for four generations, and from the sound of the wind the whole valley was mourning the loss of Paul Rook almost as powerfully as his daughter.

Pulling the neck of her coat more closed, she stared out into the field of white only broken here and there by the dark outstretched limbs of evergreens. One good thing about the cold, she couldn’t cry. It was like the tears froze before they could even get to the surface. That didn’t take away the pain at all. No, the sucking maw deep in her chest gaped like a black hole that threatened to swallow her up wholly and utterly.

A wailing from the house pulled Leah’s attention back to the present. Her mother was taking it bad.

“Mama?” she called, walking back inside and sealing the door behind her.

Another pained sob echoed through the house, pulling Leah up the stairs to her parents’ room. She’d almost never been in that space, though over the last few days she’d crossed that threshold several times a day.

“Mama?” she said more softly, trying to make even her voice comforting as she crouched on the floor next to her mother and draped her arms around the woman, who seemed to have collapsed under the weight of her own grief.

Ruthie Rook had always been the strongest person Leah knew. This crumpled form draped in black wool bore so little resemblance to the woman she remembered when she was growing up. Though the rough hand that grabbed hers, that was familiar. The whole family worked the land, and her mother had been no exception. In fact, she probably worked harder than everyone else considering she had to cook for everyone, clean, and keep up with four kids beyond the work on the farm.

She held her mother tightly, rocking her until the sobbing calmed a bit. Hearing the door slam downstairs, made her mother startle.

“Who?” she managed to ask before her voice gave out.

“It’s just the boys.”

Her mother relaxed against Leah.

“Ma, Sissy!” The full baritone voice that carried up the stairs belonged to her oldest brother Josiah. Leah hated when he called her that, but he always did, even more so whenever she asked him not to do it. She’d figured out to stop asking by middle school.

“Up here,” Leah replied. Judging by the resounding sound of boots on the stairs, he wasn’t alone. She shifted and tried to get her mother to her feet, but it proved futile.

“What happened?” Josiah shouted when he rushed into the room.

“She’s grieving,” the youngest Rook child replied like the answer should be obvious, even to her brawny brother.

Uriah leaned against the door jamb, trying to stay out of the line of fire like always. While Noah walked over and offered his sister a hand up. Josiah was broad and muscular like their father had been in his youth; he easily hauled their mother to her feet as she clung to him.

“I got you, Ma,” he told her, ignoring Leah completely.

Noah leaned closer to her as Josiah escorted Mother to the hall. “You doing all right?” he whispered.

“Could be better,” she admitted.

The youngest brother, Uriah remained silent and took up the rear as they all moved down the hall. The car Josiah hired for the family waited in the drive, the heat from the tailpipe billowed into the cold air like smoke from a fire. Leah stopped at the door and grabbed her mother’s coat, draping it over her shoulders. Both she and Josiah helped her into the warm garment; he swatted his sister’s hands away and buttoned it up himself.

Leah just let out a long breath and waited for her brothers to leave. She locked the door, making her pace slow enough to earn Josiah’s annoyance yet again. “Sissy, get a move on. We can’t chance being late.”

Her green eyes rolled as the tumbler of the lock slid closed. Even today, he couldn’t let up for just one damn minute, she thought. She climbed into the vehicle and sat between Noah and Uriah; the former draped his arm over her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. It was just like when they were kids. Uriah hung back and tried to go unnoticed; Noah played the calming influence and comforted the younger ones when Josiah was on a tear. It was almost a blessing when their oldest brother got a football scholarship to Ole Miss. After that, they only had to deal with his brand of prideful teasing and irritation during the summer, on holidays, and for special occasions. It was almost bearable.

Honestly, Leah didn’t know if she could take it today. She sank against Noah, trying not to let her own grief overwhelm her. She missed her father more than she could ever explain. She’d always been Daddy’s Little Girl; he’d taught her to hunt and shoot, encouraged her big dreams of going to law school, and was certain she’d be the District Attorney of Hope County, which had been her meager little dream.

The drive would not take long. Thirty minutes or so with the weather, if her guess were correct. She laid her head on Noah’s shoulder, remembering the last few weeks; most of which were spent in the University Hospital in Missoula. The man in that faded in that hospital bed had borne so little resemblance to the one that held her on his shoulders on parade days when she was a child.

Watching the landscape pass by through the windows, Leah realized that she hadn’t been home in too long, she had missed all the signs. The man who laid in that bed with barely the strength to get to his feet felt like a stranger at a glance. Only when she studied his face could she find traces of her dad.  He’d gotten so gaunt, looked almost skeletal at the end, and she’d overlooked it—been so focused on her own goals, that she hadn’t been there for him when he’d needed her.

Her eyes screwed shut to stem the flow of tears. She had to be strong for her mother; she had to be strong like her brothers. You can do this, she assured herself.

Once they reached the church, Pastor Jerome rushed out to the vehicle and pulled the door open.

“Ruth,” he greeted, holding a hand out to the widow.

Leah ignored the conversation that sparked around her, instead steeling herself for the next hour or so. She just had to make it back home. That’s all. Noah let her walk on her own once they all exited the car. Uriah pulled the wrist of his coat back to check his watch. His sister didn’t know how to read the action, though she never really knew how to decipher Uriah’s behaviors and whims, even as children. Despite being the third child of four, he somehow managed to keep to himself. Though maybe being the youngest brother made him more likely to pull away.

She didn’t realize that she was analyzing her brothers as a coping mechanism, at least not until they reached the front of the church. At the first sight of her father’s profile, all the strength Leah saved up flooded out of her like an ice cube on the pavement in summer. Her knees gave out and she hit the floor with an echoing thud. She gasped fruitlessly but couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

The whole world seemed to collapse in on her all at once. She stared at the runner, her nails digging at the carpet fibers for purchase as she became aware of the weight of Noah’s hand on her back. His voice sounded in her ears, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying. And no sound left her.

He was gone, really gone. The man who’d always believed in her was gone. The one person that looked at her like she could do anything. He’d always been there. Loved her when it seemed like no one else could. Held her when she cried. Gave the biggest and tightest hugs. Encouraged her. Believed in her. And now …

“Why?” she finally sobbed in a whisper, when Noah raised her face in his hands.

“Shh.” That was all he said, when he pulled her into a hug, tears glistening in his own eyes. There was comfort in her brother’s embrace—he gave hugs like her daddy, tight and warm and unrestrained. The kind of hug that made you know for certain someone cared. He rocked her gently, well, rocked them would be more accurate. Even Uriah, laid a hand on her shoulder.

Puddled on the floor, Leah blinked past the edge of her brother’s shoulder. She hadn’t cried yet. She’d managed to escape it, until that moment. Seeing her father laid out at the front of the church cemented the whirlwind of the last few weeks.

Before anyone else arrived, Noah got Leah off the floor and into the family pew. Apparently, the ceremony was beautiful, if the condolence cards received afterward were to be believed. And Josiah gave a fitting and respectful eulogy, but that should surprise no one. Leah couldn’t attest to any of it. She stared at the casket the entire time, holding Noah’s hand, as the occasional sniffle shook her entire body. Besides that, it was like time stopped for her, and it did not restart until they reached the house again.

Thankfully, there was no graveside event. The ground was frozen. His casket wouldn’t be interred until the spring thaw.

“What the hell was that?” Josiah growled at her once he had handed mother off to Uriah.

Leah didn’t answer, couldn’t. She watched their mother rise up the stairs and into the house. The door didn’t quite close behind her. Josiah grabbed Leah’s arms and shook her until her head tipped enough to catch the angry look on his face. Still all she could do was blink, but the tears were too hot now, the cold wind couldn’t stop them even as they burned her already red cheeks.

“Back off,” Uriah called from the door. “Let her be.”

“He’s right. We all lost him. And she’s the one that’s been here the whole time. The one who had to put this all together,” Noah argued.

Josiah’s glare softened a shade, and he brought his hand to his sister’s face. She wasn’t sure if she really saw it or if it was an illusion. He’s eyes went glassy for a moment before he blinked it away. Then he pulled her toward him and planted a kiss on her forehead. It only served to shatter her all over again, but this time he caught her up in a big hug, one that held a surprising amount of tenderness.

“Come on, Sissy,” he whispered in her hair. “It will be all right. You’re going to be all right.”

Reassurance from Josiah Rook. In all her wild imaginings, that was not something Leah ever thought she would live to see, let alone experience for herself.