#12-ounce monster

[prozach27]

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[bitchlessdino]

repeat rebound (m) Ch.6: Repeating Insecurities (18+)

Chapter list Pairing: Fem!reader x fwb!soonyoung (smut ft.wonwoo) Genre: Crack, smut, fluff (18+) word count: 3.4k tags: mentions of kids, mentions of gambling addiction, mentions of food, messy!reader, richboy!mingyu, dilf!wonwoo, cunniligus, soft dom!wonwoo, yearning!wonwoo, face riding Summary: The best way to get over someone is to get under someone. Again and again and again author note: hi guys, shes back but at what cost

tag list @nikkell @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @darthlunaa @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan

There isn’t much you know about Wonwoo, but in the short time you’ve reconnected with him, you’ve managed to learn a lot. For one, he likes energy drinks like no one you’ve ever met before as he stockpiled Monster energy by the 12 pack. Two, he doesn't seem like it, but the slightest nudge at his ego will show on his face. Whether it’s the subtle down turn of his smile or a crease of his brow, he displays his emotions on his face just like anyone else.

And three, he’s a damn, damn good kisser.

Wonwoo’s lips, slotted between yours, moves fervently as if chasing something just out of reach, bewitchingly sweet. Meanwhile, his hands hold you with a rough and eager grapple, unable to keep them off of you when you feel absolutely electrifying, the thrum of your pulse buzzing under his fingertips. He then pushes you inside your apartment, a growl stuck in his throat, pushing the door close behind him.

Your heavy lidded gaze finds his narrowing at you intensely, visibly intoxicated, as he inhales every ounce of oxygen left in you in a ravenous lip lock. He presses you against the edge of the entrance hallway table and the oak digs against your backside. As it embeds in your flesh, you feel it strike you in pain, sounding out in soft wordless groans.

Luckily for you, Wonwoo knows when to take action. Swiftly, he lifts you from the ground to have you loom over him as your tush lands on the table, letting your legs border either side of him. His eyes flutter open when he breaks the kiss, hands clasped against your face, and his thumb gliding over the swell of your bottom lip.

“Have you right where I want you,” he says in hushed tones.

You tug him by his hips, tongue clicking against the roof of your mouth in intrigue, wondering what more it is that he’s been wanting. “Well, don’t stop now. I might just run away again,” you tease.

He lightly scoffs, pushing pressure against your lips, finding that your head hits the wall mirror behind you. “Why do you think I brought you to your place then?”

He elicits a moan from you as his clothed groin brushes against your arousal—then comes grinding, addictive as the size of bulge presses against your core, and you clench at the mere thought of him inside you. Your fingers run up to find tufts of his hair, legs coming around his torso, and matching his rhythm as you lock him closer against you.

”I don’t know, maybe to give you a chance to swipe a souvenir?” You flirtatiously accuse.

Wonwoo’s eyebrows meet down the middle, lips parted in offense. ”Are you referring to me stealing something from you?”

”Maybe not a mug or a lamp,” You shrug innocently enough, “but maybe a pair of dirty panties.”

Smirking, Wonwoo’s gaze briefly flickers down south before his smile sweeps over your jaw and trails your neck, his incisors scraping against your skin. “Now you’re just giving me good ideas.”

“Well, I’m full of them” you whisper, lips kissing the tip on his ear, “But I'd rather be full with something else.”

His groans vibrate against your collarbone as you palm over his raging hard over his pants. He starts cascading his kisses as he gropes the underside of your breasts in his greedy hands. “Trust me, that’s my plan.”

In a blink of an eye, the buttons of your shirt scatter across all floors like marbles, spinning out of control in chaotic spirals as they disappear into the darkest corners of your apartment, perhaps to never be seen again—or worse, swept away by Mr. Roomba. You loudly gasp, eyes pointed directly at the perpetrator who’s hands tease the hems of your shirt with an apologetic smile. “Wonwoo!”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he quickly quips before his smile descends down your bare torso, wet and hot kisses following his path. 

You have no fight left to argue when you realize it’s easy to become clay in his hands. His wet clay that just gushes effortlessly between his fingers, while his knuckles work kneading your malleable body to fit his very desired mold. Meanwhile, his moans bounce off the wall deliciously, his breathing staggering before he mouths over your bra, finding the rigid peaks through the fabric and tracing over them with his tongue, and you whine from frustration.

“You’re gonna bring me back home just to tease me?” You dramatically cry.

“Maybe, I should, if that means I get to have you longer to myself,” he points out, cupping around the curved shape and thumbing through the space between the barrier and flesh underneath, sending a tantalizing chill running down your spine.

”We’re going to neighbors,” you pout, “Time won’t be much of an issue with us.”

His hands glide around your bust, fingers fiddling to find the bra’s hooks. “Promise?”

”Promise,” you recklessly assure in a single breath. 

And like that, your breasts are falling out of the confines of your undergarment before Wonwoo tosses it and your shirt aside to take a drag of your savor, finding its beguiling aroma only growing stronger the longer he allows himself to indulge. He tugs at you by your hips, your molten heat mere inches from his but still worlds away with a wall of jeans and thoroughly ruined panties.

Wonwoo moves on to the top button of your pants, gaze flickering up back at you impishly as he undoes them and slides down your thighs, caressing the skin he exposes from your ankles and up, following a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Leading to your inner thighs, he breathes in the heady cocktail that he could only describe as something that would’ve caused the Trojan war, or lead to rehabilitation from withdrawals. 

“…fuck,” He barely manages to mutter, before ducking down, vanishing from view and causing a sensation on your core that knocks the wind out of your lungs.

Your jaw falls slack, breath hitched in your throat, and you brace from impact by the edge of the table as your hips are possessed by his mouth. Meanwhile, Wonwoo—showing how he's both disciplined yet unhinged—works through the wetness soaked through your panties, sucking every bit of your arousal like it was sauce off a napkin, and then wrapping his lips around your core to engorge himself on a feast long overdue. His hands, large and coarse, cosset your breasts, thumb and index plying with your stiffness between before pinching, and earning whistles of a whine.

”Wonwoo…” You reach down for his face, lifting it up just slightly to bring him into view and instantly see the remnant you leave behind smudging his glasses as he’s latched onto you still. “You got your glasses dirty,” You mention weakly, fingers extending out to pry them off before he halts you by the wrist.

He holds your tender watch, eyes glistening awe behind his defiled frames, and guides your hand on his crown, burying him deeper, the metal rims pressing against your swollen clit. You give out a groan, doubling over as his tongue pierces your folds, slipping aside the scantily shaped piece of fabric and stroking generous stripes down your soaking lips, coating his mouth and cheeks just the same.

You could speak in only shattered breaths, mustering the courage to use Wonwoo’s helping hand and find your grip, leveraging it to ride his face. His groans echoes inside you, buzzing against your fluttering walls as he bobs in your aching cunt. He starts grunting in excitement as he eats you, enthusiastically even, the most you’ve even seen from him—then again this is the most enthusiasm you’ve ever seen from Wonwoo in general.

“Shit, shit, shit. You’re gonna make me explode on your face!” You grit as sweat beads down your neck.

And yet, he doesn’t stop. In fact, he goes harder, collecting your thighs in his biceps and hooking them to clench around his face, so absorbed in your pussy and what treasures await him inside that nothing else matters. 

He is suffocating himself between your legs—willing, may you add—and his world is quite literally fading to black. And although he looks so goddamn pathetic—and is frankly so demeaning and pathetic, it’s hot. It’s sexy. And oh, fucking days could ride this train all the way to hell if you had that ticket.

“Wonwoo…god…you—“ you tightly hold on him, a loud agonizing groan leaving your body as your pupils fall behind your skull. Your hips trembling out of control, you unleash the build up that comes alive in his mouth, coating every crevice in your viscous, salty ambrosia. You leave him with the taste of you that would last hours, maybe days, not that he minded.

As your shaking begins to falter, the kisses he leaves on your pulse beating out of your legs ascend up your body, following up your stomach and gently caressing your waist. They eventually land on your breasts in soft sighs, finding themselves in his mouth, the symphony of moans escaping him once again. His arms come around to embrace you, seizing your sides by his hands in a firm grip.

You’re too tired to speak at this point and just observe, watching as he touches you fondly, wordlessly doting on you with utter tenderness that you aren’t even bothered by the silence.

He finally comes up for breath spreading a wide and exhausted smile across his face, glasses smudged beyond repair of any wet lens wipe and you let out a chuckle. You steal them from his face and reaching for your shirt once fallen to the ground and run its fabric on the lens, seeing it do absolutely nothing for the clarity. “You’re so messy,” you softly nag.

He gently takes them away from you, stuffing them in his pocket before reconnecting your lips, sharing what’s left of you. “I gotta go.”

He picks up after himself, plucking your jeans and bra from the ground and folding them neatly to be put aside. Meanwhile, you just stare at him, speechless for an entirely different reason. “Whu—what do you mean you have to go? You just got here,” you pull him closer towards, your breasts pressing against his firm chest through his tee-shirt. “What about you?”

He grins, cupping your cheek. “I got so distracted about taking you home…I forgot the baby monitor, and if I come in and out so often I might wake her up with the noise. I’m sorry.”

You groan, your head falling on his shoulder. “That is so incredibly considerate of you, you’re a good dad. God, fuck. That’s hot.”

“Hey,” He lifts his chin to meet your gaze, “Time’s on our side right? It isn’t an issue for us?”

”Yeah, yeah, yeah. Prepared to be jumped the next time Winnie is napping.”

He laughs at your honesty and reels you in for another devastating kiss before having to leave. You see him out, clutching your top close for dear life and staying hidden behind your front door as he enters the neighboring one. There’s a soft “Bye,” that leaves his lips, and soon enough the ghost of his presence haunts not only your front door hallway but your body that craved more than one measly orgasm.

“I’m getting the worst Deja vu right now,” you whisper ironically to yourself as you close the door behind you, recalling another moment you received head with dick on layaway. “I hate men.” You sigh.

Tired to do anything else, you take your well-deserved shower and head off for bed. But something decides to keep you up at night, something that makes you toss and turn, lying awake whether you're going crazy or not. Like you’re up wondering how things would’ve gone if he hadn’t forgotten the life line between him and his daughter. Or if it hadn’t happened at all.

Or if had he done that on purpose?

Get you all hot and bothered, eat his cake, and then leave when you’re ready for more. Giving you a taste of your own medicine like how you handled him the last time you were together intimately. His two birds and one stone. 

You immediately reach for your phone, instinctively pulling up a contact that's always the first to come to mind when it’s to rant about these sorts of things, but stopping before you could type out a message or send a call. Jeonghan’s profile image taunts you, reminding you’re supposed to be…disappointed that he’s keeping things from you.

But he’s your best friend. The first person you think to talk to when it’s superficial and reckless behavioral things like this. Surely, you can get over this hump.

You check the time to see it at about 11pm at night before deciding to call, nail to teeth about him picking up as you lay slump in bed, hearing only the dial tone on the other end. It rings steadily, and you take a breath with each beat, telling yourself after the fifth, you’d hang up.

”Hello?”

You sit up against the bed frame, moving too excitedly at the sound of his voice. “Hey.”

”Hey.” He responds softly. “You okay? It’s a pretty late time to call.”

”Yeah, I know. I…I wanted to check in on you.”

”Yeah?” He teases, a smile heard loud and clear.

You roll your eyes, hugging a pillow nearby to your chest. “Something like that…Is what I heard today what I thought it was?”

He sighs, and movement could be heard in the background of his call. “What do you think it was that you heard this morning?”

”That…” You lick your lips anxiously, the words having a hard time breaking free from their cage. “The machines. The buttons. The bells. Jeonghan, were you gambling?”

He sighs again, and you manage to make out the squeaking of a bed. Before he could calmly say your name, following up with some excuse you know you’ve heard before, you interrupt. “Don’t you start.”

”It’s not that serious. Just a couple of slot machines.”

”Jeonghan. No,” You warn.

He groans before you hear a snap and a quiet hiss, following the familiar sound of crackle. “It’s not that deep,” He replies, and by his mumble you could immediately tell there’s already a cigarette between his lips.

”What happened to all the progress we made? Everything we worked hard for you to break this habit and keep you out of debt?” You remind him.

”I was one time. The trip had worn me out and right nearby had a place, I—“ He takes a drag, exhaling deeply. “I just have been going through things, okay?”

”Why couldn’t you have told me that? I’m your best friend.”

He takes a beat for however long for whatever for. That’s what you hate about phone calls. You can’t see what’s happening on the other end and the face of the person you’re talking to. But this is Jeonghan. If you are going to be patient for anyone, it’s going to be him. ”…I know. I know. You’ve done a lot for me, sweetheart—“

“Then why are you shutting me out? Why aren’t you answering my calls?” 

“I swear I’m not.”

”Then what is it?”

“I don’t want to argue over phone—“

”Oh, you want me to hang up?”

“No, I just want to meet you in person. Let’s do that, hmm?”

You swallow a lump in your throat, suddenly anxious at the thought of seeing him again after a while and unsure why. “When?”

”Soon. Sometime soon,” he reassures.

”Okay,” you relent easily, despite being the instigator.

“Okay?”

”Okay.”

He let out a satisfied hum, “Is that all you wanted to talk about?”

Your brain suddenly teeters back to the thought of your original intent, your reservations of your reconnection Wonwoo. That had been an afterthought the second you heard your best friend's voice, the voice the source of all your joy or all your rage. You ponder just a moment longer before deciding against bringing it up, thinking perhaps there’stime and place for everything. 

“That’s it, but…”

”But?”

”I miss you.” You answer sincerely.

His chuckles are like a warm bowl of soup on a cold evening, simply comforting and never unwelcome. “You’ll see me soon. Get some rest, okay?”

“Okay.”

If anyone could calm you down, it was Jeonghan. If anyone could silence you, If anyone held power over you, it was Jeonghan. 

Here you are, having had phone sex with one guy in the middle of his work day and almost-sex maybe not even half an hour ago with someone else entirely. Yet, right now all you can think and worry about is Jeonghan. 

Jeonghan this. Jeonghan that.

You push a pillow into your face, letting out your screams, all the spiraling thoughts of what’s happened to you in the past several weeks—which was admittedly more than you ever had to handle��before finally letting your mind sleep. Tomorrow would be a new day. A fresh start. With no worries.

And boy, did tomorrow like to throw more curve balls.

“Mingyu, No.”

“It’s not even for me!” He defend, a childish whine in his tone.

You shake your head at the man’s words over the phone, “No, do you not understand the words coming from my mouth? No.”

“He just needs a pretty little eye candy on his arm for an hour. Max.”

”Then you do it.”

“Hmm, flattered because I knew you always thought I was pretty and never said anything, but this is serious. My guy needs the hook up!” He pleads, as if he’d die without your help.

You stab your scrambled eggs and imagine them as Mingyu’s head, annoyed that whenever he needs a favor he comes to you with a sack full of cartoon money and at yourself for even thinking about considering taking th deal.

“Just because I played one fake girlfriend for you doesn't mean I’ll do it for anyone. I know you and you have money and I was desperate.”

You hear his clap over the phone, assuming he must hav you over speaker. ”Ah! Money. How could I forget? Ten thousand.”

You inched the space between your brows, hissing. ”Kim Mingyu, you spoiled fucking bitc—“

”Eleven, twelve, thirteen—“

”Shut the actual fuck up!’ You shout at your phone like a mad person, “Why is this so important? Who is this guy?”

”I told my friend. Now it’s not any time soon but—“

And you hang up, not wanting to waste the rest of your morning on Ritchie Rich’s nonsense. And like clockwork, your phone vibrates soon after, a text message by the nuisance himself.

Mingew: hey! that’s fine ill just call u about it nxt month! thats when the plan really takes action Mingew: keep ur phone on u!

You roll your eyes, not planning on taking that call in the slightest, and went with breakfast, other more important things going on in your mind and for once it isn’t Jeonghan. 

No, you’re backtracking to Wonwoo, second guessing his intentions still. You’ve barely reacquainted yourselves (quite the understatement), but you’re started to grow this strange attachment, treading on early signs of a crush, maybe something more. You blame the proximity, cursing that bitch fate for putting such a hot dad with who isn’t a douche right at your doorstep when you were perfectly fine being single again.

But what’s hotter than a guy you know that’s good with kids? A guy that's good with kids and can put his mouth to use.

You need to talk this through with someone. Someone you can confide in. Jeonghan currently seems out of the picture considering he’s having his own issues he’s dealing with. So, it looks like you have to rely on someone else for the time being for that kind of attention, but you’re wracking your brain figuring out who.

Your phone buzzes again. Another text message. You assume it’s another from Mingyu and scoff, but are pleasantly surprised when it's not.

Soonyoung: mornin pal Soonyoung: friend? Soonyoung: i don’t know what to call you

You laugh quietly to yourself before responding.

you: morning…bud? soonyoung: weird isn’t it you: yeah soonyoung: so what ya up to you: just having breakfast in my pjs soonyoung: hot you: lol dude soonyoung: kidding sonyoung: what else you: well You: something’s on my mind lately Soonyoung: something or someone? you: are you in my fucking walls soonyoung: no but HA you: yeah it’s someone Soonyoung: wanna talk about it you: wouldn’t it be weird Soonyoung: whats weird about it You: you and me hooking up You: and then talking about someone else Im hooking up with Soonyoung: We are just friends Soonyoung: i feel like there no other better person to talk about to Soonyoung: unless maybe jeonghan. Have you talked about this with him You: no its ok. Let’s meet up

[xxtha-blog]

Why Horrortale Sans is Definitely Evil

Horrortale Sans is evil. This is the opposite of a defence post, I am calling out this character and his many misdeeds! I do not know how people legitimately defend his actions or claim he’s just a normal guy who tries really hard not to eat people. I do not think we read the same comic. This is a comprehensive deep dive into why Horror is evil.

First a chronological look at Horror’s dubious actions. Not all of theses are evil and some have good justification as standalone events, but provide wider context for things:

1. He has to be convinced into helping repair the Core which he knows is broken, and has inside info he knows could help get it fixed, only when Grillby begs him to because as revealed on another page, the loss of the Core means “the fire eats at [Grillby’s] very soul like acid, perpetually burning him alive”

2. He spends a total of 12 months trying to figure out how to repair the Core but based on Undyne’s statements about how he rarely works, either means he’s a. Not actually putting enough effort into it (if we believe her and not Sans) or b. Not telling Undyne and Alphys how his work is going which is probably pertinent information for them to have (If we believe Sans, but want a reason as to why Undyne has that impression)

3. He finally brings her a solution to the Core after knowing he’s going to die (but if you want to be generous, maybe it was just really bad timing and he really did only needed a few more days to bring her a solution) and claims it’s a “long shot” meaning he doesn’t even know if it will work.

4. Undyne, thinking that is an insane plan, tells him she has a different plan. Sacrificing him to save everyone. Sans makes it clear he would never let himself die to save everyone.

5. When a guard begs him to sacrifice himself to save his wife and children, Sans launches him into the stratosphere saying: “fuck off.”

6. Even though Undyne attacks him first, it’s actually Sans that takes out her head and eye first.

7. Sans brutally murders the guards who helped Undyne.

8. When Alphys, showing Sans that her plan has objectively work and he is not dead (bonus!!), Sans destroys the Core.

He destroys the thing that will keep him, his brother, and literally every person in the underground alive. Grillby now suffers eternally, and everyone will die a slow and painful death. This does not help him in any way, does not change the fact his head is broken, he does it purely out of malice. The equivalent of getting shot, surviving, and then nuking the town you were shot in. He does not take his eye back if you thought it was to take his eye back. It’s still in the broken Core.

9. He lobotomizes Alphys

10. He gets Aliza to become a cannibal

11. He tortures and maims Aliza (let’s her get cut in half by a bear trap, pulls her hair so hard it bleeds, let’s her freeze to death in a puzzle, sends her to Grillbys where she gets partially cooked alive, cuts her arm off)

Really great guy here.

Secondly let’s get some of the common defences out of the way:

1. Sans had a plan that would save everyone! Undyne was therefore making a bad decision by trying to killing him

a. Sans says his plan IS A LONG SHOT

b. Alphys explains Sans’s plan would have taken a lot of time and magic ie. time that would get a lot of other people killed

c. Undyne’s plan actually goes better that expected! What was assumed would kill Sans doesn’t end up killing him at all. Literally a win-win for everyone involved.

d. Undyne/Alphys’s plan works, and therefore objectively saved more people. 0 net casualties if Sans had a single ounce of humanity.

2. Sans worked really hard and Undyne betrayed him. Undyne should have told him first

Undyne doesn’t tell him because she doesn’t want to consider hurting Sans despite monsters dying. Moments before Sans shows up, a child dies in a mother’s arm. Then Sans explains his plan is to dismantle the Core, which ‘might’ work, and will take a lot of effort and magic to do so, which is time they do not have (it’s been 12 months. He has had 12 months.). He also blames Undyne for getting them into this mess and mocks her for letting people die. She then attacks him. They end up both losing half their head and eye in the fight, making them perfectly even. The core’s power is restored.

But, whether or not Sans feels betrayed or not is irrelevant to the fact that Undyne makes the most reasonable and moral decision in this moment and also Sans has kind of done everything in his power to not sell his idea and piss off the person he knows is considering killing him so big L on his part for that one.

It also does not in any way shape or form justify destroying the Core, which is probably the most evil thing you could possibly do in that scenario.

3. They both are at fault for the Core/Both Evil then

There is literally a world of difference between:

“Sacrifices 1 person who ends up not dying, to save everyone. Which succeeds.”

And

“Destroys the thing that will successfully keep everyone alive, thus dooming everyone including yourself to die a slow and agonizing death, because you are angry your friend tried to kill you in an effort to save everyone”

That’s not even including the 10 other things on my list that are definitely also evil, but I cannot take people seriously if they put these two things on some sort of a moral equivalence. Undyne is in the right. 1 person for everyone is a worthy sacrifice. If anything Undyne’s only flaw is waiting so long to do it.

4. (Unrelated to the Core incident) Sans is actually morally grey, he doesn’t eat humans like everyone else which is a complex character motivation

You’re right, Sans doesn’t eat humans. Instead he finds enjoyment in torturing them brutally, a much worse thing than eating to stay alive.

His fight with hunger is also entirely self-made. Both because it’s not morally wrong to eat another living being to survive (and it’s not cannibalism to eat a human as a monster) and because he is the reason this is still happening 7 years later. It is literally his fault he is hungry. There is no interesting moral conundrum here, he does not care about hurting people. He is just out of his mind.

In conclusion, Horrortale Sans is a deeply selfish and uncaring person. Whatever minor good deeds he does throughout the comic are so immensely overshadowed by his absolute depravity that they might as well not exist. He is the reason every single monster in that underground continues to suffer, including himself, and while in his mind maybe there’s some weird justification, no outsider observer should look at these actions and think, yeah, that was reasonable. Much less think Undyne or Alphys are somehow WORSE. He destroys the Core because he didn’t die after everyone is saved, solely to be vindictive. He does not gain anything by doing this. He doesn't even take back the eye he lost which is still in the broken core! He lobotomizes Alphys because he’s mad he looks like a freak. He murders people who wants him to help everyone stay alive. He maims and tortures children and no amount of not eating them afterwards makes that any less morally apprehensible.

None of this is meant to say you can’t like him as a character. It is just to explain why characterizing him as a poor lil guy who did nothing wrong, is a little… wrong.

i believe this is an extensive look into why Horrortale Sans is evil.

Thank you for reading :)

[deceptive-daydreams]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Nine - Blue Eyes

W/C: 8.4K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Blue eyes never caught your attention...until they stepped into The Bourbon.

A/N: this was such a monster of a chapter to edit just because there's a lot going on...i hope y'all like it <3

Masterlist

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“Okay, well that’s not gonna work.  We can’t afford all that.” 

“What if I gather some…I dunno…donations?”  You ponder.

“Bambi, enough.”

Eddie huffs at your persistence, crossing off a few items from the list placed in front of him.  Your adorable handwriting had spelled out numerous options for fundraising ideas; something to get the bar back into a somewhat profitable margin.  He wasn’t going to lie to himself and say he wasn’t grateful for your efforts but he had proven to become more and more annoyed as your list grew throughout the week.  An impatient Jett stands next to you, rocking back and forth on his heels as he sucks in his cheeks, attempting to keep his thoughts to himself, though it was never his strong suit to remain quiet when necessary.

“Dude, just pick one!”  He blurts out.

The tiny office looked comical, three bodies crammed in a small space that would certainly run out of oxygen had the door been shut.  A displeased glare catches Jett’s attention, only offering you a shrug in response to his outburst.  You’d mentioned before even approaching Eddie for the umpteenth time this week that the key was going to be patience.  Let him come to you.  Make it seem like part of it was his idea so he doesn’t feel like you’re doing charity for him.

“No, we can’t afford to put on a…a wine tasting or a—hoedown?”  Eddie questions with furrowed brows as he underlines the words with his pointer finger.

“Eddie, if you let me–”

“I’m not letting you do anything.”  He asserts.

“Listen–”

“No.”

Eddie Munson was the most stubborn being on planet earth, that much you could attest to.  But you weren’t going to let him tackle your plans to the ground without a good fight.  

“Munson.”  Jett tries, only to be met with an inflamed scowl.

With wide eyes, you attempt to pull his attention back to you, hoping to save Jett from receiving an earful later.  “Eddie–”  

“Nope.”

“Eddie!”  You squeal, eyes squinting shut painfully as you throw a miniature tantrum.

“Bambi.”  He deadpans, leaning over his desk to stare you down.  “Leave it.”

The look that used to scare you weeks ago now only had you rolling your eyes.  He was at it again, refusing any ounce of help that was offered.  When he got like this, you could only play it up and bring out your begging eyes.  Hope for the best.  

“Jett, can you give us a minute?”  You clear your throat, an overly polite tone taking over.

“Fine.”  He sighs before leaning in to whisper.  “The hoedown…make him pick the hoedown.”

With a playful smack to his shoulder, you escort Jett out of the office–or rather you push him out and kick the door shut.  His sights were set on that hoedown ever since the two of you sat down to scrawl out a few ideas the previous week.  It was bold of him to assume that you could ‘make’ Eddie pick that option.  If you’d learned anything since moving here, it was that Eddie Munson was a force to be reckoned with.

“Alright Munson.”  You lean over his desk as he takes a seat in the squeaky office chair, you were a bit too comfortable in his space as your perfume flooded his nose.  “We are doing one of these, whether you like it or not.”

His stare should frighten you, large intimidating eyes nearly black as the patience drains from him, tongue poking the inside of his cheek as if he were contemplating a scolding remark that would force you to back off.  It only encourages you.

“Oh, we are?  I wasn’t aware we were under new management.”  He counters, seemingly deciding to choose a softer approach.

“Yes, we are.”  You bite.  “Because if not, we aren’t even a we.  There is no bar.  Will that make you happy?”  

If it seemed harsh, it still needed to be drilled into his thick skull.  

“I know that!”  Eddie raises his voice, caught up in the heat of the moment.  He didn’t allow himself a moment to think, only act.

He wishes he could punch himself for the way he made your face drop.  A hint of fear taking over your graceful features.  It wasn’t who he was—or at least that’s what he was trying to convince himself.  He didn’t yell to get his way, he was not his dad.  

“Fuck–’m sorry.  Sorry.  I didn’t mean to…get all mad and blow up on you.”  He sighs, shyly shifting his gaze toward the ground.  “I’m just…”  He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “I’m stressed and–that’s not an excuse, I’m just trying to–fuck I dunno.” 

“Eddie...”  Your saccharine tone pulls him out of whatever hole he was currently digging himself into.  So candied and coated in tenderness.

He doesn’t need to respond for you to continue, the look on his face telling you everything.  The wrinkles forming between his eyebrows are extra prominent, frown lines growing deeper in his anguish.  

“Let us help.”  Your words are dripping in honey.  It’s obvious that you’re buttering him up, putting on your extra sad puppy dog eyes just for him, lip puckered out extra pouty, such a pretty sight, all for him.

“We want to help.”

There’s no saying no to you, he can’t stomach it.  It was getting worse as time went on, every time he had the urge to tell you no, he couldn’t help but feel sick.  Maybe if he pulled Jett back into the equation he’d have better luck.  The kid got under his skin especially when he egged Eddie on and didn’t take a hint.  But when you’re sitting all pretty for him, your elbows propped on his desk as you stare at him like you want nothing more in the world, who is he to deny you?

“Okay.”  He exhales nervously.  “Whatya got?”

“Really?”  Your eyes twinkle, something he’d pay to see every single day, even if he was on the verge of bankruptcy.  Which he was.

“Don’t make me change my mind.”  

From just outside of the door, Jett chews on his nails, the argumentative tone of conversation just seconds ago still riddling him with anxiety.  It would do no one any favors to rile up the boss who had clearly already been under an immense amount of pressure with his inherited business crumbling around him.  Jett knew the steaks, he knew that Eddie would refuse to give up given that his grandfather had passed down everything to his only known grandson, leaving behind his legacy.  Unfortunately, it’s hard to offer help to those who refuse it.  But Jett knows that if anyone can persuade the big, bad Eddie Munson who was too stubborn for his own good, it was going to be you.

Every time you walked into the room, Jett witnessed a miserable man come to life.  Bored, tired eyes became enamored and filled to the brim with infatuation.  A bland day would instantly be cured the second you sauntered in with your tray, more often than not dropping it in the process of securing your apron around your waist.  You never learn, always opting to struggle with the tray tucked in between your arm and body while your hands fumbled with those damn strings, sending the tray straight into the floor, your pens spilling out of your apron and startling you every time as the items clanged against hardwood.  And every time, Eddie is there, watching from across the room before the inevitable happens.  Every time, he is at your feet, collecting your mess and questioning ‘got it?’ in a gentle tone that Jett doesn’t ever recall hearing before you came into the picture.  

Every time, Eddie Munson is reduced to a puddle of a man right before everyone’s eyes.  Only ever for you.

It’s infuriating. 

Jett supposes had he made his move sooner he would hold your attention like Eddie does.  He would catch your gaze from across the bar, a tiny smile gracing your lips.  The sparkle in your eyes would be for him and only for him.

Reality delivers a punishing kick and reminds him that Eddie had you from the beginning, even when he was outright rude to you.  He had your curious eyes from day one.  It wasn’t fair, Jett was so convinced at first.  It wasn’t fair that Eddie had been the biggest asshole and yet your mind seemed so made up on him, eyes never lingering on another soul as long as they did when Eddie was around. 

He was sure that he was over it, he told himself there was no chance, but something about the banter he heard muffled by the office door only stirred up every pessimistic cell in his body.  Every giggle you let out at some stupid ‘joke’ that wasn’t even funny, every fucking time Eddie called you Bambi, every time you playfully scolded him only to reel back and flatter him, all of it drove Jett nuts.  His fists were clenched at his side, knuckles threatening to split at the tension and face a raging red.

Because Eddie Munson had the very thing he desired.  And he didn’t deserve her.

–

Your negotiations intrigued Eddie, the way you had a solution for every problem he attempted to create didn’t even frustrate him anymore.  It used to aggravate him when you would offer a simple solution to a problem he deemed unsolvable.  Now it only made his pupils dilate, his breathing becoming uneven solely because he couldn’t get enough of your energy.  He thrived off of it, a different kind of high taking over him when you would voice your ideas, your eyes lighting up as he watched the gears turn in your head.  

He almost misses your offer to persuade Jett into snagging some hay bales from his family’s farm should he end up choosing the Hoedown Night from your extensive list.  Truthfully, he was lost.  Lost in swirling thoughts of the girl in front of him who nearly two months ago, he would have never given the time of day to.  And he didn’t…at first.  But now…now he would give you any time of day you wanted.  Rain or shine, day or night.  He didn’t care, he would do the impossible if it meant your face lit up like a Christmas tree every time.  He just couldn’t quite admit it to himself yet.

His lack of enthusiasm concerns you although you don’t show it as you continue ranting on about Donnie mentioning some old table cloths and picnic blankets she no longer wanted that could be used.  She even mentioned her husband having a few empty barrels out in their garage that could be great for apple bobbing.  She went as far as to ask around for different items they could use from her neighbors, already collecting an array of items they could use at their disposal.

“-and then we charge for entry.  I know it’ll probably only make a small profit but it can hold us over somewhat, right?”  

He’s thinking again.  

His bottom lip is tugged on by his teeth and his lids are heavy with that far off look.  You didn’t think your pitch was that awful in all honesty.  You would admit that Donnie’s idea of a stripper night could be taking it too far but there were so many other ideas that had such potential and if he turned every single one down, you didn’t quite have a backup plan prepared.

“Eddie?”

He blinks, twirling his pen in between his fingers as if it were a drumstick but he still remains unresponsive.  It’s not a good sign.

“I-I know it’s a lot of work and–”

“Okay.”  He breathes.

“Okay?”

Your eyes become doe-like, ironically.  You were really living up to that nickname, the one that sent goosebumps up your spine if he said it soft enough.

“Okay.”  

His agreement doesn’t feel genuine, his gaze cast somewhere far off from the tiny room.  

“Eddie.”  

Your tone goes stern.  Or at least stern enough for him to break out of his thoughts.  Within seconds, coffee colored eyes are regarding you in a way that can only be met with heated cheeks and twiddling thumbs.  He had been lost in his mind again, only returning at the mention of his name a second time through that firmness you displayed when you really cared about something.  

“Bambi.”  The word is grounding, anxieties settling where they were once fluttering around in your stomach.  You no longer worried if you had upset him in some way.  Not when his voice sounded so smooth, so satiny that it almost killed you.

That welcoming voice that felt like a tight hug echoes in your ears.  Brown sugar falling from his tongue and sweetening any further exchange of words, no matter how conflicting his mindset could be compared to yours.  As long as he kept using that tone, you would be putty in his hands.

“Um, so…we’re doing this?”  You question meekly, a contrast to the confidence you had just displayed. 

It’s quiet, though his red cheeks are louder than any words.  He’s apprehensive, his irises darting around the less than decorated room.  It’s obvious that he’s fighting an internal battle, engaged in a horrible disagreement with himself.  Harsh words are probably prodding at his brain, forcing him to be reluctant in accepting any fraction of help.  

What he doesn’t realize is that while he swears you’re staring at the biggest coward to walk the earth, you find him to be brave.  It was clear after previous nights of long talks and shared trauma, that this wasn’t easy for him.  Giving up control was the most terrifying thing he could do.  Accepting this form of help was foreign to him, people back home in Indiana never offered him such courtesy.  

So you wait.  

With a stupid amount of patience that Eddie will never understand, you soften your gaze.  All pressure is removed.  Your attention shifts to doodling some kind of a flower on the paper sitting atop the desk in between you.  You don’t await an answer from him, you only exist with him.  Nothing is required of him and somehow, you both understand that.  

He doesn’t want to be held to such requirements.  He wants you to raise your standards and he wants to meet them, exceed them.  You shouldn’t have to dull your bright personality for his shattered dignity.  He’d always been a shadow looming over those he was closest to, always a dark cloud among a sunny day reminding everyone of his detrimental existence.  

Good things did not happen to Eddie Munson.  

Not in the past, not in the present no matter how convincing life could be in coaxing him into its trap, and certainly not in the future.  Anything disguised as a saving grace would always end up being Eddie’s eternal hell.  It always has and it always will.

Either way, his fate was determined.  So why not let you take the lead?  In his eyes, it would honor him if you ruined his life and although the mere thought of you leaving him behind in the aftermath of destruction haunted him, he couldn’t help but give up his control.  

He was tired of fighting off the ‘good things’.  

Especially when he would be left to piece himself together either way.  It’s just another event he would have to endure, another lesson he wouldn’t learn from because he was too goddamn stubborn.  Another mountain he would have to climb with his bloody, bare hands.

You continue waiting, not once pestering him for confirmation.  He hates it.

He hates it, he hates it, he hates it.

You should be screaming at him, demanding an answer after his prolonged silence.  Your hands should be smacking the surface of the desk in annoyance, your eyebrows should be pinched in frustration, and they aren’t.  

There’s a comfort in the abuse.

Secretly, he begs you to lose your cool, pleads with some higher power that you snap out of it and just slap him across the face like he deserves.  He is being difficult and you aren’t reacting.  He has gone mute and you are simply okay with it.  Even in the most forgiving situations he braces for impact but you make it so hard to.  

His guard is supposed to be up, the walls are supposed to close him in and keep everything out but they’re crumbling around him, fast, exposing him.  He feels naked but you don’t stare at him with expectancy, you don’t reach out and snatch what vulnerability he has left.  

“I–”  He breaks the unforgiving silence, wincing as his voice cracks.  It’s only when you glance up at him with understanding eyes, your heart on your sleeve, that he relaxes.  

Tension still pulls at every muscle, but he breathes.  He breathes through the nausea of putting his trust into another person.  Something he swore to never do again ever since his dad dared to show his face one last time back when Eddie was in high school.  It was only the last time because he had gotten arrested, Eddie was sure he’d be stupid enough to give him several chances in hopes of fixing his deranged father.  He was only human and the six year old kid in him only wanted to see the good in people, especially his ‘pops’.

“We–we’re doing this.”  He practically demands of himself.

“Eddie we don’t have to–”

“We’re doing it.”

With glassy eyes, he nods as if he’s still convincing himself.  You can’t help but intervene.

“Seriously, I know we were coming on strong but it’s just because–”

“I know.”  

You don’t need further confirmation from him, big brown eyes doing enough of the talking as you begin to assure him he was the one calling the shots.    

“Do you?”  You ask genuinely.

Again, a part of him is pissed that you won’t just take the answer and tell him he didn’t need to be such a baby about the whole thing.  Maybe slam the door out of irritation, enough to shake the wall.  Maybe ask for a raise for all of your efforts.  People didn’t do things for him just to be nice and he was already hating himself for being so pitiful that Donnie was offering to help without any compensation.  

“Yeah.”  He whispers.

“Are you sure?”  

“Can you just–”

Eddie finds himself on the cusp of blowing up again.  Anger bubbles in the back of his throat like bile, his hands clenched into fists repeatedly as his lips trace those familiar numbers before letting anything he regrets fall from his mouth in his moment of fury.

“Can I just what?”  You question softly, hand reaching for his.

“Nothing.”  He breathes.

There’s a pause, a brief moment where he’s clearly panicked, resembling a spooked horse.  It disappears just as fast as it came, his eyes softening as he processes the situation.  You just had to go and ruin it.

“Why do you count?”  

The question spills into the air without you even thinking, your mind simply throwing it out there without fear of any consequences.  Without thinking that maybe now isn’t the time.  You regret it as his shoulders tense up, his guard up once again.  The guard you’d patiently chipped away at only to destroy any progress you’d made.

“I–”

“Sorry, sorry!  I’m sorry, I–just pretend I didn’t ask.”  You attempt to stitch the messy conversation back together.

“No, uh, I-I…”  

Stop letting her in.

You’re gonna get hurt.

You don’t expect his shoulders to untense as he sighs, you don’t anticipate how quickly his guard falls again, any hesitance he displays faltering before completely disappearing into thin air.  All that remains is sincerity, face no longer contorted in worry and eyelids drooping ever so slightly in his sudden relaxation.

“I just–I started doing it after…after everything back…back home.”  He answers before his thoughts can steer him away.  “I dunno why.”

You’re satisfied with his answer, you’d even be satisfied with no answer.  He didn’t owe you explanations and yet he kept giving them to you.  Spilling his guts out to you, practically letting them fall onto the thin, dingy carpet of the office.

“I, uh, I’ve asked my therapist about it.”  He elaborates, voice quiet and mumbled.  “She said it’s part of the PTSD.”

You didn’t expect him to reveal such a personal detail although you find yourself squeezing his hand, settling into the quiet of the bland room.  Words aren’t necessary, they never are between you.  

“I don’t even know how to throw a hoedown.”  Eddie snorts to himself, the energy shifting into something more familiar, more comfortable in the blink of an eye.

You’re willing to unpack whatever baggage he had revealed but it’s clear that he no longer is.  And that was okay.  

“Oh don’t you worry, I’m gonna get you a big bedazzled cowboy hat and everything, just let me take care of the details.”  You partially joke, deciding not to tease him over his not-so-subtle choice of Hoedown Night.

“No, nuh-uh.  Not happening.”  He protests, arms thrown up dramatically.

“C’mon, you need to look the part!”

“I don’t have to do anything.”

His smile is contained, a grin threatening to pull at his pretty lips as his thumb grazes the top of your hand.  A small gesture that nearly burns your skin.

“Well, I think you’d look cute in a cowboy hat.”  Again, your mind speaks for you without any contemplation.  

You should take it back.

You want to regret it.

You don’t.

It’s worth it when his face flushes red again, his fingers coyly pulling a curl over his face as if to hide, a sight you wanted to capture if only you had your polaroid with you.  You’d have to settle for mentally pinning this moment to the wall in your mind that was ever growing.  He doesn’t return the flirtatious banter but it doesn’t go unnoticed when he beams at you from his chair as you offer him sparkling eyes and fluttering lashes on your way out.

Two Weeks Before Thanksgiving

“Okay, Jett’s  bringing the haybales in for Friday?”

“Yep.”  Your pen glides across your messy, scribbled out checklist in a hurry.

“Did you get the apples yet?”  

“Nope, was gonna stop by Thursday so they’re fresh.”  You mumble, jotting down a few more tasks that had yet to be done.

“Alright and Nathan’s gonna have his truck all set for hay rides outside, that’s another charge right?  We can charge extra?”  Donnie questions, her scatter brain on full display.

“Yes, that would be great.”  You assure, grace in your tone.

“Alright and then, Eddie’s friends should be here on Wednesday to surprise him–”  Donnie begins to mutter.

What?”  Your eyes widen, practically bulging out of your head.

“Yeah, Steve?  And then the others–”  Realization hits Donnie like a train, her eyes nearly falling out of her skull just as yours were.  “Oh shit!  I forgot to tell you.”  She hisses.

Glancing around, she ensures the coast is clear before waving you out back.  It was a Monday, the lack of patrons allowing you to do all the planning you needed to for Knife’s Edge first ever Hoedown.  Donnie had been mapping out the place, assisting you in drawing out the layout for the event on paper.  Eddie had been managing the bar, the sluggish evening rendering him positively bored, making it a point to initiate a huge yawn every time you passed by throughout the evening.

It drove him crazy when you pretended to ignore him.

“Do you think he heard you?”  You whisper, the safety of being just around the corner not enough to convince you.

“He didn’t, that boy is nearly deaf.”  Donnie seems certain.  “God, I can’t believe I forgot to tell you.”  She throws her arms up in exasperation.

“Why didn’t you tell me!?” 

“Here’s the deal.”  Donnie pulls herself together, grabbing you by the shoulders.  “They come into town Wednesday night.  Four of them I think, I always forget their names, god it makes me feel like shit.  Anyway, they’re gonna surprise him at the bar.  They usually stay with him.”  She nearly runs out of breath in her explanation.

“Okay.”  You breathe.  

“Did I answer your questions?”

“I, uh, I think so.”  You nod.

“You cannot tell him.”  Donnie stares you down.  “They’ve never surprised him, he usually knows when they’re coming to visit.  Swear you won’t say a word.”  

Her demeanor is almost threatening although you find it sweet that she cares so much.  Eddie’s best interest had always been something she prioritized, same as you.  In your eyes he was a golden boy with a golden heart who was dealt shitty cards.  You weren’t sure if Donnie had been enlightened about any pieces of his past but you both seemed to have the same goal in mind.

His happiness.

As you continued to prepare for Friday’s events, you avoided eye contact with Eddie at all costs throughout the night, especially after you had learned about the ‘big surprise’.  You’d walk past the bar, the shaker in his hands as he prepared a drink.  He’d pause, the shaker mid air as his gaze trailed after you.  You felt awful for denying his puppy eyes but it was all for his benefit in the end.

You couldn’t lie though, holding his attention as you continued to ignore him over and over offered you an ego boost.  You’d never been looked at in such a way, you never felt so desired in your life.

–

“Have you seen the way she ignores me?”  Eddie complains, Jett only muttering nonsense in response that Eddie couldn’t decipher.

“She won’t even look at me when I talk to her!”  He almost whines.

It was getting to him, your constant neglect.  It had been a day, a whole day since you’d started avoiding his eyes, never smiling at him the way you usually did throughout your shift.  Not one little wave thrown his way.  He felt starved.  He’d never been so needy for someone’s attention, he was starting to feel like a leech.

“Dude, she’s just working.”  Jett grumbles, his hands occupied as he stacks a hay bale against the back of the building.  They’d been instructed to go out back and relocate them to make things easier come Friday night.  They’d previously been stacked near the dumpsters, a little ways away from the building and were now being hauled next to the back door for easy access.

“You don’t get it, she’s being weird.  It’s like she hates me.”  Eddie grunts as he lifts the brick of hay.

“Maybe she does.”  Jett sighs, not a single thought behind his words.

“What?”  Eddie questions, attempting to hide the panic that had begun to shock his nerves, his head snapping toward his supposed friend.

“I–I dunno.”  

“She say somethin’?”  Eddie demands, shoving the hay onto its corresponding stack as he diverts his attention to Jett fully.

Jett’s gaze only gives off that he’s hiding something, his eyes avoiding Eddie at all costs, an ongoing trend poor Eddie was beginning to find.  It only fuels a fire inside of him, embers growing angrier each moment Jett stands there dumbly.

“Did she?”  The look in Eddie’s eyes resembles that of a bear that had been poked.  Jett regrets letting his innermost thoughts fall from his lips in a moment of irritation, now he was subject to Eddie’s unforgiving inferno that was never easy to escape from.

“No.”  Jett snaps a bit too aggressively.  

“Then what?”

“I don’t know why you think she owes you attention.”

If Jett hadn’t fucked up yet, he certainly had now.  If only he could’ve kept his stupid, naive mouth shut.

“The fuck did you just say?”

Eddie’s fist clenched at his side says enough, it screams that the conversation should stop here, that Jett needs to stop egging him on but he refuses to let it end here.

“Yeah, you practically pissed on her, claiming your territory and shit.”

If looks could kill, Jett would be in for a world of pain.  Just when Eddie thinks the twerp is finally going to realize his place, he keeps going.

“She’s not your property, what if she had her sights set on someone else?  You gonna swoop in and piss on her again?”  

It feels as if someone grabbed his heart straight out of his chest and chucked it off the nearest cliff.  The blood had stopped pumping and he swears he feels his veins run cold.  He didn’t think he stood a chance with you but the thought of you becoming absolutely infatuated with Jett sickened him.  Did you really have the intention of going after Jett?  He couldn’t stomach the idea.  He might as well sell the bar and run now to save himself the heartache, the only thing he was good at.

“I–”  Eddie’s speechless, rage and sorrow clouding his vision.

“Oh, now you’re gonna shut up about–”

“I never claimed her, or pissed on her, or whatever the hell you’re saying.”  Eddie argues.

“Yes you did!  ‘Bambi’?  What kind of shit is that?”

Eddie can feel himself vibrating with anger, his blood heating up once again as he scowls.  Jett had not once expressed any interest in you and now here he was, attacking Eddie over something as stupid as a nickname.

“Go fuck yourself.”  He spits before storming inside.

No one would ever want to be on the receiving end of the absolute death glare he’d shot Jett.  It lasted seconds but some would go as far to say those seconds were torture.  Deep down Eddie knew he could punch Jett and be done with it, assert his dominance.  But that’s not what his intent was, you weren’t some prize to be won.  You had simply fallen into his life and he couldn’t help but fall in lo–

He couldn’t help but surrender to your existence.  

And now?  Now he was in his head again.  If you were going to ignore him, he was going to let you.  You didn’t owe him a thing, even after the late night talks and spilled guts of vulnerability.  Jett could have your attention for all he cares now.  Except, he does care.  And that’s what causes such an ache within him, the fact that he does care even if you don’t.

–

“Eddie, can you hand that glass to me?”  You request sweetly, tip toeing as you point toward the shelf above him.

He looks up, a wine glass tucked nicely on the top shelf within his reach but clearly outside of yours.  The frown on his face puzzles you though you keep to yourself as he garnishes a drink with orange.

“Mhm.”  He mumbles bitterly, reaching up to grab the glass and handing it to you without so much as a glance.

You should be glad, looking into his eyes would only force you to engage in conversation with him and doing so could lead you down the path of honesty.  You’d for sure give up the surprise and you only needed to last one more day, you couldn’t fuck this up.  

“You okay?”  You question, hesitantly gripping the glass in your smaller hand.

“Mhm.”  He mumbles again, sliding the cocktail across the counter to its awaiting customer.

“You sure?”  You betray yourself, attempting to catch his gaze, no longer caring that there was a chance of spoiling the surprise.

“Mhm.”  

It was the third hum in a row.  It drove you crazy, he would usually say something snarky and act like the smartass he is by now.  He’s not and it worries you.  Maybe it’s not your place to worry but you do.  

“Eddie.”  

“I’m fine.”  He huffs, chest heaving.

A warning glance has you nodding, slowly stepping away to resume your original task.  It was humbling, one day bantering and somehow falling into conversation about each other’s deepest secrets and the next being treated like a stranger.  You obey his stare, his chocolatey eyes no longer displaying any trace of affection or depth, only pure hostility.  The spark that had threatened to ignite so many times had disappeared completely, only what appeared to be ash leftover from the small fire that once burned within him.

“What’s wrong with him?”  Jett announces himself next to you, breaking down a dirty table as you go to retrieve one of The Bourbon’s most expensive bottles of wine for a snobby customer.

“I, I don’t know.”  You whisper in despair.

The rest of the night, you’re met with spiteful glares from Eddie and lingering touches from Jett.

Wednesday Night

This was it, after tonight you wouldn’t need to be so avoidant of Eddie.  You wouldn’t have to lie to his face.  It was becoming apparent however, that he had become irate.  Every second of the day.  That morning you waved to him as you got the mail and he tinkered with his truck to which he practically snarled and went right back to work.  It was like you were back to square one with him, back to when he hated you and you had disturbed his precious, quaint, little life.

It could just be that he’s in a bad mood, it was early after all and maybe his truck had given out on him again.  It was reasonable enough, it would piss you off had you been in his shoes.  You weren’t entirely sure you’d take it out on everyone but it would sour your mood.

It was hard to keep a smile on your face while he glared at you from behind the bar just as he had done the previous night.  You were trying to be the bigger person, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.  He was just making it so difficult by purposely delivering daggers to you whenever he could.

“Hey!”  Jett greets you, emerging loudly from the kitchen.

You greet him back, a muttered ‘hi’, your eyes unable to tear themselves away from the man that seemed to suddenly hate you.  You were in no mood to be friendly anymore, not when Eddie was creating such a venomous atmosphere using only his face.

“Is everything pretty much in place for Friday?”  

“Uh huh.”  You don’t even so much as look at Jett, a head full of curls the only thing holding your attention at the moment.

“You going with anyone?”  He asks, pushing himself into your line of sight, much to your dismay.

It was as if you were trying to read Eddie’s mind from across the room and if you stared hard enough, you’d finally get through.  You had no such luck and it could potentially be because Jett kept pestering you with questions.

“I’m working.”  You state obviously, wiping down the table you had been clearing.

“Well–yeah…yeah me too.  I just—maybe after?  Once everyone’s cleared out, would you wanna…go out?” 

It takes you by surprise and for a second, you’re unsure if he’s asking you out as a friend or if he’s making a move.  As you evaluate the situation, you determine that it’s the latter with the way he shyly smiles and averts his eyes ever so slightly, his cheeks tinting a bright pink.  You’d done nothing to feed into his interest, even when you figured he was just being friendly, simply too busy working to engage in the conversation he continued to try and force.  Now it was just going to get awkward.

“I–I, Jett I’m sorry but…no, I’m not–I can’t.”  You choke out, the sheer humiliation of the situation for both parties dragging you down.

“Oh.”  Is all he says, disappointment evident in his eyes, gaze casting toward the floor as he twists a rag around in between his fingers.

“I just–we’re friends–”

“Yeah.”  He sighs bitterly, spinning on his heel to speed off toward a busy table.

There was no further conversation, he didn’t let you finish, didn’t even offer to talk privately.  It was just…done.  And now you feared you’d made an enemy simply by saying no to a date.  You were now the villain in his story.  It seemed you were becoming the villain in everyone’s story at this rate, what’s one more?

It was t-minus two hours until Eddie’s friends would be arriving to surprise him and you were already worn out.  If there was any hope of making a good impression at some point, there wasn’t a chance anymore.  They’d be met with a mess of a girl with smudged mascara and crazy hair, apron stained with melted cheese that you had leaned into earlier on one of the tables.  

They were going to hate you.

–

“Honey, what’s wrong?  You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”  Donnie ushers you toward the hallway leading to the back, only stopping just before going outside to talk in private.  

The whole night it seemed you were a brainless mess, messing up orders and forgetting in general how to do your job.  Donnie had been keeping an eye on the time, ensuring things were set up for when Eddie’s friends arrived all the while making sure he had no idea.  You’d helped set up the table for them and set aside the alcohol they liked but in all honesty you don’t even remember your entire shift.  You were right back to being a stupid girl that didn’t belong.

“I-I just–do you think Eddie is upset with me?”  Your lip wobbles pathetically.

“What!?”  Donnie gasps, as if it were the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard.  “Why would he be mad at you?  That boy likes you better than he likes me.  Better than he likes most of us.”

That was news to you, you’d never been the favorite.  And you doubted her words, no matter how sweet they were.

“I-I dunno.  He seems–he seems really on edge and I’m just…I’m really overwhelmed and–”  You whimper, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.”  She rubs your shoulder almost uncomfortably.  Physical affection was not her specialty.  “I’m gonna–I’m gonna go get him–”

“No!”

Before your protests reach her ears, she’s gone, rounding the corner straight to the bar.  You’re well aware that you should rush out the back door behind you right now, that you should just spare everyone your existence but before you can pick up your heavy feet from the ground, a mane of curls comes hurling at you, hands reaching out to grip your shoulders.  You look pathetic, tears beginning to trail down your cheeks, mascara more than likely following them, creating the most psychotic image.

“Bambi, what happened?”  He asks, sincerity creasing his forehead rather than irritation as you’d grown used to in the past day or so.

“Nothing.”  You attempt to brush past him, swallowing what pride you had left only to be firmly held in place.

“What happened.”  He demands.

Chocolatey irises refuse to look away from you, his mind made up as he pushes for an explanation.  Determination settles in his gaze, he wasn’t going to let you take the easy way out, much to your dismay.  

“It’s not like you care.”

Your words bite, pain spreading as you regard him with such fire in your eyes.  His hands remain on your shoulders, keeping you there while he continues his interrogation.  It’s all too much, everything is falling apart in a matter of seconds.  At least that’s how it feels in your mushy little brain.

“What?”  He scoffs, offense evident in his pinched eyebrows.

“You don’t need to sit here and pity me.  I’m sure you have better things to do like mad dog me all night. ”  

It’s childish, the way that you cross your arms and jut your hip out to make a statement, but you can’t help it, especially when he had been such an ass the past few days.  You’d done nothing to instigate–at least nothing you could think of and if you had, he wasn’t manning up to communicate the issue.  The ball was in his court as far as you were concerned.

“What the fuck has gotten into everyone?”  Eddie removes his hands from your shoulders to drop his arms heavily at his sides, almost as if he had given up.  You hate that you miss the tiniest bit of warmth from his hands.

“No, what the fuck has gotten into you?”  You counter meanly.

“Me!?”  He raises his voice in the slightest but it doesn’t startle you, no, it only aggravates you.

“Yeah, you!”  You match his volume.  “You’re acting like a giant baby, moping around all day!  We’re all just supposed to put up with it cause you own the place!?”  

Eddie bites his tongue…hard.  It’s useless when his stupid brain shoves his words out of his mouth, no longer a private thought that he could forget when he managed to calm down later.

“You’re the one who’s been ignoring me all week!  What, are you too busy dry humping Jett to engage in actual conversation these days?”

There are several people scattered throughout the bar but at this moment, only her and Eddie exist.  It’s not how she imagined in her daydreams.  In her daydreams they’re smiling, unable to take their eyes off each other, his eyes swallow her lovingly and his rough hands brush against her cheeks as they drink in each other’s existence.  They don’t fight, they don’t argue.  

It would be too good to be true and she knows that.  But she didn’t expect him to be like every other guy.  He wasn’t like every other guy…until now.  Until he reduced her to some other guy’s side piece the moment he disagreed with her.

“I–what?”  You breathe in disbelief.

“I didn’t mean that.”  He wishes he could turn back time and slap himself, take the words back, and apologize for his toddler-like behavior.  Real life doesn’t offer such luxuries.

“Just–”  Your words are lodged in your throat, unable to defend yourself as he pathetically dials back on his insult.

When he reaches out to place his hand on your shoulder as he had before, you wince painfully.  Because it was painful.  His touch would be enough to singe your skin except this time it would be out of malice.  You wanted nothing to do with whatever apology he was about to improvise, you just wanted him to get out of your sight so you could finish up the night, clock out and cry into your pillow at home.  

The progress you’d made with him seemed to have disintegrated like grains of sand passing through your fingers.  It was such a miniscule issue that had only become larger with each sentence exchanged, an escalating argument between immature adults who were emotionally stunted and stubborn.

“Where’s Munson!”  An unfamiliar voice calls from the front.

He ignores it, ducking his head down to catch your eyes only to be met with seething anger.  His brain was scrambling to find a solution, a quick fix to tide you over.  There wasn’t.  He made his bed and he had to lay in it.  He was in the dog house, if you even would be so kind as to provide him a dog house.  He wouldn’t blame you if you chucked him out in the freezing cold for his behavior.

“Bambi–”

“Don’t.”  You grit, pushing past him, his shoulder taking an impressive hit.

As you round the corner, it’s obvious that the four strangers lingering around the bar were Eddie’s friends.  Good.  They could be left to deal with his insufferable personality and rude comments.

“Eddie!”  One of them shouts.  He had to have been younger by a few years, maybe a college student.  His curls are tighter than Eddie’s and he has an adorable grin that you couldn’t frown at any longer as he briefly glances at you.  His attire was nerdy, some kind of polo decorated in graphics on his torso and khaki pants showcasing his unique style.  To top it off, a baseball cap with a university logo sat snugly on his head.

The others appeared to be older, their demeanor a tad more mature than the boy that had yelled for Eddie like a younger sibling.  To the right of him was a man with crazy voluminous hair, you notice how his pants fit quite tightly although it works for him.  He wore a yellow sweater that seemed so cozy, you were starting to grow jealous.  As you subtly look him over, you conclude that he has a handsome face, he was good looking, you weren’t gonna lie to yourself.  He definitely wasn’t your type but you had eyes and could admit that he was in fact cute.

To the handsome guy’s right, is a girl with striking blue eyes and freckles dotting across her face.  She sports a dirty blond bob with some messy bangs, a look that you knew would look horrendous on you but did her justice.  She wears a blue toned flannel and some blue jeans with a few tiny holes and some converse.  The grin on her face is contagious, though you really couldn’t find it in you to provide such a large smile in return, your ears still burning from your previous interaction with he who shall not be named.  

Lastly, next to flannel girl, was perhaps a supermodel?  If not she could certainly be one.  Her face was also adorned in softer freckles and her eyes were a piercing blue, but she had these brown curls that reached just the tops of her shoulders that looked so lucious and well taken care of.  Her outfit was a little bit quirky but it worked and she might as well be a trendsetter in your book.  Her skirt was plaid and pink while her sweater was lavender with several tiny flowers creating a pattern across the fabric.  She wore these boots that you’d die to have in your closet, truthfully.  

Together, as a group they were rather intimidating, especially considering you were the only individual who hadn’t met them yet.  So you idled near the bar, pretending to focus on cleaning a glass that had already been sparkling as all customers had already been served, Eddie tending to his surprise guests, leaving no room for you in the equation.

“What are you doing here?”  Eddie asks, seemingly less than happy.

Each of his friend’s faces fall, no doubt taken back by the fact that they weren’t met with an elated friend they hadn’t seen for a while, instead they were met with his wrath that was more than likely supposed to be reserved for you but happened to slip through the cracks and leak at their feet.  He didn’t have a right to be upset with you, he’s the one who took it too far.  No sympathy was spared for him in your eyes.

“To see you!”  Flannel girl exclaims, hands gesturing wildly in the air.

“Do we smell or somethin’?”  The handsome one asks playfully, a smirk displayed on his face as he pokes Eddie’s shoulder.  “What’s got you so bent outta shape?”  

Eddie sighs, visually huffing out a breath as he controls his irritation.  An apologetic expression crosses his face and you only wish he had the guts to offer you the same look moments ago.  Even if he did, it didn't fix anything.  He still practically insinuated that you had been slutting around with a coworker that you had not once even hugged.  At most, you’d awkwardly side-hugged him a few times.

“Sorry, ‘m sorry.  Just, uh, just under a lot of pressure.”  Eddie rubs the back of his neck.  “Hi, and what are you doing here?”  He asks, a tad more friendly.

“Do I get a hug?”  The younger one asks with a shit-eating grin.  You almost laugh, almost.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate, engulfing the boy in a bone-crushing hug, his palm smacking down on his back which only makes the boy grunt in protest.  Then, each of them receives a tight hug from him.

“It’s called a surprise, Munson.”  The supermodel chirps, her voice gentle and sincere.

At this, you don’t know why but you can feel your teeth grinding.  Your jaw tenses, fists balling up at your sides.  You don’t even try to pretend that you’re occupied with something, that you’re too busy to even notice the interaction.  And she notices.

“You must be Bambi.” 

You hate that she seems so kind, bright blue irises full of compassion tuning in on you.  How she knew the nickname Eddie had selected for you, you weren’t sure.  What you did know is that the name only felt right falling from his lips, no one else’s.  Politely correcting her with your actual name, you can only hope she picks up on the hint.

“Nancy Wheeler.”  She introduces herself, gingerly shaking a hand that you had extended toward her.

You could play nice.  Even as you will yourself to come down from your haze of rage, you can make nice.  These people had nothing to do with what Eddie had said minutes ago, they didn’t deserve to have your first impression of them tainted by the rotten words he spat at you.

“Steve.”  The handsome one brushes past Nancy, gracing you with warm eyes and a lopsided smile, shaking your hand gently.  You wouldn’t expect it from someone dressed so preppy.

It all becomes so overwhelming-

“I’m Robin!”  The other girl chirps in excitement, pushing Steve to the side to clasp her hand in yours.  She wore a handful of delicate rings, a contrast to the chunky ones you were used to Eddie sporting.

“Hey!”  Steve protests, offense written in every line of his face as he displays his disdain.

“Dustin Henderson!”  The younger boy shoves past both of them confidently, his hand shaking yours impressively.

“We have heard so much–”  Robin begins though she’s cut off by Steve lightly smacking a hand against her stomach.

So much personality bursts from each individual before you, not one of them the least bit shy as they continuously take over the conversation from one another.  Robin’s statement only begs the question…what have they heard?  Even further questions surface the more you think about it.  Had Eddie alerted them of your existence back when you first crashed into his peaceful life?  Maybe they’d heard all bad things, all things that painted you as some idiotic girl who cried at even the mention of a confrontation.

Among your silent panic, one question crawled to the forefront of your mind, clawing its way out of the millions of other haunting thoughts.  A question that you had no right to be asking, even if only in the solitude of your brain.

Was Nancy Eddie’s girlfriend?

~end~

Masterlist

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiesxangel @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels @aysheashea

[ptn-imagines]

Can you do Suspect R x pre amnesia! chief? ik there's not a lot of content for her but they give such domestic married wives energy like

LOOK AT THIS. its fine if u dont accept, ther are PLENTY other ptn womens i thirst after so....

Oh, I will absolutely write for Suspect R despite her lack of content. In fact, I was hoping someone would ask!

Due to the lack of content on both her and Chief pre-amnesia, I ended up focusing more on the feelings they may have shared more than anything else, using the glimpses of Shepherd-12 we see in Shalom's interrogation as a guide. If this isn't to your satisfaction, feel free to send in another request! Praying that chapter 14 marks the return of the OG wife...

Suspect R x Pre-Amnesia!Chief

Once upon a time, her name was the one they loved the most. In a world where everyone wanted to use or betray them, she was the only one they trusted whole-heartedly. Shepherd-12 adored her.

As truths were unveiled and lies became unmasked and Shepherd-12 became more and more jaded to the world, she was the only one spared of hissing and biting. Only she could melt the icy protective layer upon the Shepherd’s heart, for only she could be trusted with it. Only she had pure intentions.

Secret trysts and rendezvous, the Shepherd was always so tense until the face of the nameless official melted away to reveal their lover, who perched on the edge of their desk like she belonged there. She did belong there. And the Shepherd abhorred the idea of belonging to anyone, anyone except for her. They would give themself over to her in a heartbeat, and they would drown in her, and it would be a sweet way to die.

They are a creature of Mania, but this Sinner is their salvation. She makes them feel human in a way that nobody and nothing else does, and they know that fate will never be kind to them so they relish these precious moments, and they love her eternally and devotedly and without regret nor restraint.

She loves them in kind for she knows this is what they need. They will never speak their thank yous aloud but she knows; how could she not? Even if the world should revile them, see them as monsters (and it did), the two of them would have each other. They need nothing else.

She holds them so close as though she attempts to meld their flesh as one. They greedily kiss her deeper, hotter, as though trying to exchange pieces of their souls with each entwined breath. She is both the untamed tempest that will inevitably drown them and the singular piece of driftwood that keeps them afloat in the storm.

Nothing else matters. Nobody else matters. Let the world burn to ash. The Shepherd would welcome it. The world is rotten to the core. So are they. Only she remains pure in an endless sea of filth. Only she is the truth among the lies.

“My dearest, your heart is becoming so black,” she whispered one night, and they didn’t know it then but this would be the final time they saw her like this. Her fingers caressed their face and they purred, leaning into the touch.

“They don’t deserve any more,” they breathed, nails digging into her back as though they were afraid they might slip through their fingers. “They can go to Hell for all I care. You’re the only thing that matters.”

She smiled at this and pulled them into another deep kiss. This one felt different, like a goodbye, but it was still filled with every ounce of passion and fire and desire and need and belonging they had come to expect. “You know it won’t end like this.”

“I know.” They detest the fact. She makes it bearable. She’s the only reason they haven’t torn the world asunder yet, because she is part of that world. “But you’ll be there, won’t you?”

She smiled. “Always. Don’t sleep for too long, or I might have to come and get you myself…”

…

Shepherd-13 always wakes from the dreams of these memories too soon, these ghosts banished with the rise of the sun over this corrupt city.

What was her name?

If they could choose anything to remember, it would be this.

[hallow-witxh]

Pumpkin Cupcakes Feel-Good Abundance Spell Recipe

Yes yes yes, I know it's still summer and autumn is a loooong way away, but damnit, sometimes I want to call forth my Inner White Girl and indulge in pumpkin spice! Well, luckily for me (and for you!), I have a perfect recipe for you - because not only is it a dozen pumpkin spice mini cakes, but also a feel-good and abundance spell. So here's my abundance spell recipe - complete with cream cheese frosting and DIY pumpkin spice mix! So, without further ado, here we go!

What you'll need:

Pumpkin pie spice:

3 tablespoons ground cinnamon (adds power to the spell, prosperity, success)

2 teaspoons ground ginger (adds strength to the spell)

2 teaspoons ground nutmeg (money)

1 teaspoon ground allspice (money, luck)

1 teaspoon ground cloves (success)

Bowl

Spoon, fork, or whisk

Cakes:

2 eggs

1 1/4 cups granulated sugar (banishes negativity)

1 cup pumpkin puree (granting wishes, prosperity)

3/4 cup melted butter (enhances peacefulness)

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1 1/2 teaspoons pumpkin pie spice (abundance)

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract (self-love)

1/4 teaspoon salt (protection, grounding)

Cupcake liners (I like these! Unbleached, chlorine-free)

Wire rack (optional)

Whisk, hand mixer, or stand mixer

Large mixing bowl

Cream cheese frosting:

1/2 cup softened butter (enhances peacefulness)

8 ounces softened cream cheese (meeting goals)

4 1/2 cups powdered sugar (banishes negativity)

splash of vanilla extract (self-love)

Large mixing bowl

Hand mixer, or stand mixer (trust me, you'll want a hand or stand mixer for this)

Piping bags (optional)

What you'll do:

Pumpkin pie spice:

Add all ingredients into a bowl

Mix mix mix

All done!

Cakes:

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees (F) and line a 12-cup muffin baking pan with paper liners

Place the wet ingredients (eggs, sugar, pumpkin puree, and butter) in a bowl or stand mixer bowl. Whisk or mix until smooth.

Add the dry ingredients (flour, baking soda, baking powder, pumpkin pie spice, vanilla extract, and salt) to the bowl. Stir until just combined.

Divide the batter among the 12 muffin cups.

Bake for 15-18 minutes, or until just browned and a toothpick inserted in the center of a cupcake comes out clean. A chopstick also works but leaves a bigger hole. Don't worry, you can cover it up with frosting.

Cool for a few minutes in the pan on the wire rack, then transfer the cupcakes to the wire rack to cool completely. Don't frost until the cupcakes are completely cool!

Cream cheese frosting:

Put the butter and cream cheese in the bowl of a mixer or a mixing bowl and mix until light and fluffy, about 3-4 minutes.

Add the powdered sugar, one cup at a time, and mix on low speed until combined. Add the vanilla extract and mix for a minute.

If the frosting is too thick, add 1 teaspoon of milk at a time until desired consistency is reached. You can use any kind of milk, but I don't recommend soy.

Optionally, you can put the frosting in a piping bag and pipe the frosting on the cupcakes. Or you can just dollop it on with a spoon. Or, if you're like a monster like me, you can put a cupcake in a bowl and scoop in some frosting with it. Oh who am I kidding, I mash it all up together like an ungodly goop...

I know it's a long post, but I promise it's actually quite easy! And delicious. Very, very delicious.

As always, practice safely, do your research, and blessed be!

Support your local witch on Ko-Fi!

[at1ias]

Hi CJ fandom :D yeah so I put all the songs in a list against each other to crate a (kind of) bracket but there was no bracket that supported 104 slots, and I'm not drawing that, so: Here's the matchups for the first round!

1.Does it Sound Familiar vs. Backlit by Moonlight 2.End the Dance vs. Contempt 3.Pit vs. Every ounce of Energy 4.Three Paces Away vs. A Devil's Tricks 5.Wings of Wax vs. The Moss 6.KK. Cruisin' (the one from covered in discontent) vs. Hokem All Ye Faithful 7.Slutteral Gump vs. The Man With The Skeleton Arms 8.Restless Heart vs. Pocket 9. Alone With my Thoughts vs. Scatman's World 10.She Only Loves me When I'm there vs. Spooky Scary Skeletons 11.Hallelujah vs. Charlotte 12.Time Machine Reprise vs. Dream (Outro From Calamity) 13.Mucka Blucka (Intro to Cacophony) vs. Ruler of Everything 14. Spring and a Storm vs. Storm and a Spring 15. Night vs. Light 16.Never Meant to Know vs. Just Apathy 17.Good Day vs. Be Born 18.The Heart Acoustic vs. The Mind Electric 19.The Soul Eclectic vs. The Bidding 20.We're Gonna Win vs. Variations on a Cloud 21.Two Wuv vs. The Whole World and You (Outro From Cacophony)

22.Welcome to Tally Hall (Intro to Concord) vs. Banana Man 23.Haiku vs. Hidden in the Sand 24.Greener vs. Special 25.Intro vs. Interlude 26.The Ballad of Dr. Jekyll vs. The Mr. Hyde Jive 27.Wilhelmina Waltz vs. A Styrian Rhapsody  28.The Monster Lament vs. An Elegy for One Roderick Usher, or ‘The Haunted Palace’ 29.Dead Man's Sea Shanty vs. Ode of the Cog 30.Monster Mash vs. Dear Machine. Hate, the Cog (Ode of the Cog, Non-Fiction Mix) 31. Ain't No Rest For the Wicked vs. Taken For a Ride 32.Cage vs. Art 33.Nerd vs. Grew on Me 34.Not Perfect vs. Shutup You're Stupid 35.Evil ppl vs.Savages 36.A Drink to Death vs. Chonny's Inferno 37.Fine, I'm Fine vs. 20XX

38.Laplace's Angel (Hurt People? Hurt People!) vs Thermodynamic Lawyer Esq, G.F.D. 39.Tomcat Disposables vs. Memento Mori: The Most important thing in the world. 40. …And if I did, you deserved it. vs. Mayday 41.Push vs. Don't Take it Personally 42.Compelled by Hindsight vs. The Lie of Black and White 43.KK. Crushin' vs. KK. Cruisin' (unplugged) 44.You Sound Like Louis Burdett vs. To Toe Dead Lines 45.Count Eleven vs. The Forest for the Trees 46.The Ship of Theseus vs. The Ship of Theseus 47.The Ship of Theseus vs. The Ship of Theseus 48.The Ship of Theseus vs. The Ship of Theseus 49.Clock Town in Dawn vs. Heal 50.Death Will Fall vs. The King, the Fool, and the Poison 51.Hollow Steps vs. Heart of Flame 52.Dad 3 vs. Fly me to the Moon

I'll start tomorrow and ima do 2 polls a day, open for 1 week :)

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! /Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! /

 Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here! / Part 12 Here! /

Part 13 Here! / Part 14 Here! / Part 15 Here! / Part 16 Here ! / Part 17 Here! / 

Part 18 Here! / Part 19 Here! / Part 20 here! / Part 21 Here! / Part 22 Here! / 

Part 23 Here! / Part 24 Here! / Part 25 Here! / Part 26 Here! / Part 27 Here! / 

<This is Part 28!>   / Part 29 Here! / Part 30 Here!

A/N: It's baaaaack! A few updates; I know we used to have an update every week, due to mental health and general constraints in time -- This series will no update every other week. In the weeks between you'll get the sneak peak. I know it's not ideal, but with the pace the series is being written at this is the best I can currently offer. Hope you enjoy this part!

* It’s hard to describe the exact sensation that plagued the days after Luke’s betrayal.

* At first it wasn’t terrible, you would rouse from your cabin and make your way to the big house where a comatose Percy slept, pale blue light pouring from your hands.

* While he was still unconscious you could maintain a steady rhythm for your days.

* You would wake up in the morning, drink some nectar, heal Percy, have a snack, and go back to sleep.

* But the second Percy woke up, back to swinging swords and beheading monsters, it felt like every ounce of responsibility left your body.

* Your glass of nectar started to be a bit more full every morning.

* The full breakfast with coffee Dionysus laid out felt less appetizing.

* And you started to find solace in the relief of sleep.

* You watched the three moons of the Underworld all aligned in a burning red sky.

* “Are you okay?” The boy with scars on his chest asks.

* “Of course! I’m fine!”

* A plump red strawberry nestled in your palm.

* “If you want, my mother might be able to help, I could bring you to her.” The woman with hair the color of rust whispers, the cow nestled in her lap snorts.

* “It’s fine, I’m fine.”

* You sit next to a hippie in a strawberry field, her bright hair held up by a tie dye headband.

* “You’ve got to let that stuff go man.”

* “What stuff? I’m fine.”

* You drift from reality to reality, never really sure of what you’re experiencing or what you’re looking for.

* You stand in cold water that comes up to your calves, so clear and blue it feels like liquid aquamarine.

* You can see white doves in the distance, soaring to the place where sky meets water.

* “I haven’t seen you in a while.” It’s the boy from earlier, the one with pure white hair, Zeus’s personal secretary.

* He seems more tan now though.

* “You look awful.”

* He still doesn’t seem to have much tact.

* Flustering under your apathetic gaze, his cheeks bloom a rosy hue, hand up in surrender.

* “N-not in a bad way, it’s just you usually…” his gaze softens, his freckles glinting like amber under the sunlight. “You usually seem as vibrant as a fresh rose.”

* Well, that’s quite a compliment.

* “I was betrayed by a friend recently,” you shrug and he gapes “but it’s fine, I’m—”

* “No you’re not fine! How could you be?” He grasps your shoulders in his hands, forcing you to face him entirely. “You were betrayed by your friend, how can you be okay?”

* “Because everyone expects me to be.”

* The words snap whatever feeble grip you have on your emotions.

* You feel the intense burn before you feel the heat of your tears as life down your face, cooling at the nape of your neck.

* Despair you’ve kept carefully contained begins to curl off your form

* Your hands move to cover your face, tears collecting on your wrist as your furiously move to wipe the remnants of your sadness away.

* The boy doesn’t let you feel bad for long, paying no mind to the physical pain of the despair that curls off of your form, tugging you to his chest.

* “You’re just a child, you’re allowed to feel sad.”

* The tears come harder now, sobs muffled by his broad chest, his warm hand on your back.

* You wake up sniffling, blurry eyes taking in the ceiling of your cabin, your alarm clock flashing three fourty-two in the morning.

* You clutch your heart, feeling tears slip down your face.

* You swallow hard and shuffle on an old sweatshirt and your slippers.

* You walk across camp in quick steps, past the training grounds where you see a flicker of his figure, past the porch of the Hermes Cabin where you would laugh with him, past Thalia’s tree where you sat and had picnics, each step punctuated with traces of your blue despair.

* You still for a moment at the Big House, but continue down the hills, Dionysus as kind as he is, isn’t who you need right now.

* You make your way down to the small hill, the place you first met him all those years ago.

* You feel that burning again.

* Despair curling off of your body like an aura, the grass at your feet withering away.

* You kneel on the barren earth, tears sliding down your face.

* You place your hands out, flinching away at the last moment.

* ‘Asking for help is always the hardest part.’

* You take a quick breath, tears shaking from your eyes, pressing your hands against the earth twice and before you can fully think you say: “Aidoneus.”

* He wraps you in his arms before you can croak out a word.

* “He betrayed me…HE BETRAYED ME!” You shriek, collapsing in on yourself like a dying star.

* He holds you tight, a hand cradling your head.

* “It’s okay, I’m here now, you’re okay.” He takes your despair like it’s his own, a monster who’s lived in his shadow all his life, only offering a single tear in its face.

* The hill outside Canp Halfblood is dyed blue that night, the divine boundary the only thing saving a dozen campers from melancholy dreams.

* “I keep wondering if there was something I could have done, something I could have said,” you sniff after you’ve calmed down, your face pressed against the soaked cotton of his button down shirt.

* He doesn’t say anything for a long time.

* “That boy…” you look up, eyes red rimmed. “Just as you have something you want to do, something you think only you can do, that boy feels the same.”

* You can see it, Luke, so distraught and torn after being a plaything for the gods for so long reaching out to the hand of a Titan who promised him a different kind of future, for him and for every child who came after him.

* “If you care for him,” Hades cradles your face in both of his palms, “if you care for that mortal boy like you were split from the same star, and carved from the same flesh, then I promise you nothing on earth, the underworld, or Olympus will keep you from reaching him.” He presses his forehead against yours and you nod.

* There was never any doubt.

* ‘If Luke’s lost his way then it’s no big deal, he has friends to bring him back.’

* “Do you feel better?” He asks, and you nod, your worn sweatshirt cuffs dabbing at your eyes. “Good, now drink.”

* He holds the flask to your lips and the sweet taste of your fathers slightly burnt chocolate chip cookies floods your mouth.

* “I lost your flask,” you suddenly remember, before sheepishly adding: “sorry.”

* He grins.

* “I know, it’s okay. It’s a miracle you all made it out—in comparison a flask is inconsequential.”

* His hand strokes your hair bank, his eyes warm as he looks down at you.

* “We’re all on your side.”

* “I know.”

* And you do, the proof is littered on your arm, blessings from each of them and every god they could find, trading favors and secrets to make sure you were secure.

* “As a king and a god, there will be times where I can’t show you explicit favor,” like he already hasn’t or something. “But if you call for me, I will always answer.”

* “Me too.” You’re not sure why you say it, just that it feels right, a smile illuminating your face. “If you call for me, I’ll answer you too.”

* He smiles so wide you feel like you catch a glimpse of the boy he once was.

* “Go, they're waiting for you.” He nods to Thalia’s tree, and you begin the climb up the steep hill, turning back to wave goodbye before he dissipates into smoke.

* When you reach the top, gold hued dawn breaking over the skyline, you’re met with three figures.

* Percy and Annabeth rush towards you first:

* “We’re going to go find him next summer,” Annabeth starts.

* Percy nods beside her. “We’ll bring him back.”

* Clarisse approaches you behind them. “He’s just going through a bout of teenage rebellion, a slap upside the head will set him straight.

* Grover nods beside her, still dressed in his nightshirt. “He’s just a little confused.”

* Dionysus smiles, “With all of us working together it’s just a matter of time until we bring Luke back home!”

* You feel the warmth of hope bloom in your chest, tears of joy stinging the corners of your eyes.

* “How could be possibly refuse when all of you are waiting for him?”

* ‘Because no one who’s lost ever stays lost.’

* Summer comes to an end, and for once everyone’s going home, you wave to Percy, Clarisse, and Annabeth as you part at the boundary line, going to your respective families.

* You think you see Clarisse cry a little when her mother greets her with a hug.

* “Everytime I pick you up from here I get the strange urge to shove you in the car and never bring you back.” Your father says when you’re nestled in his passenger seat.

* “What a completely normal thing to say to your child, do you have any other normal sayings or is this your best one?”

* “Alright smartass, you’ve got your uniform fitting the day after tomorrow.” You groan, a new year meant a new uniform.

* “They’re always so uncomfortable.” You mumble, face in your hands.

* You think about Luke more than you’d like to admit in the coming week, even out of camp you can’t help wondering where he is.

* Is he eating well? You think while you try your fathers new and improved risotto.

* Is he somewhere safe? You think when rain hits the glass window outside of Barney’s as the tailors fuss over your form.

* Is he able to sleep at night? You think when you’re cozy in your bed.

* And each time you strengthen your resolve.

* ‘I’m going to get him back.’ You think with every hearty bite of risotto.

* ‘He’s going to come back.’ You reinforce, meeting the tailors suggestions head on.

* ‘I’m going to save Luke Castellan, and not even Kronos can stop me.’ You manifest, right before you drift into silky black unconsciousness.

* You’re in a pavilion, ivory white columns on either side and white marble under your feet.

* Before you is possibly the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, skin the color of dark amber, golden eyes, and tawny tresses.

* A jagged scar runs over his right eye, but even that only seems to accentuate the symmetry of his features.

* “Is there something I can help you with, godling?” He doesn’t spare you a glance, his eyes fixed on the green trees in the distance.

* You immediately fluster.

* Normally you would apologize, but instead what comes out of your mouth is:

* “Just because you’re beautiful doesn’t mean you can be cold, you know.”

* ‘Now I’m really in for it.’

* He raises an eyebrow.

* “Do you jest Demi-god?”

* You take the quirk of his lips as an invitation to sit beside him, taking in the scenery.

* “Whatever, like you don’t know you’re stupid hot.”

* “Hot? I think I’m the correct temperature.” He touches his forehead and you laugh.

* “No like…you’re handsome.”

* He smiles at you, and when he turns to face you, you realize where his left arm should be in a hood mechanical device in the shape of a human hand.

* ‘That’s interesting.’

* “I can’t say I share your sentiment.”

* “How did it happen?”

* He shrugs.

* “My Father betrayed me.” He shrugs.

* “Wow, your dad is super shitty.” Somehow he’s even worse than a deadbeat like Poseidon or a serial womanizer like Zeus.

* “Do you also have an awful Father?”

* “No, my Dad is the best.” He visibly deflated when you tell him that, earning a laugh. “But I recently had a good friend show a display of extreme betrayal.” Your eyes widen, the corner of your mouth twitching.

* “We could be betrayal buddies!”

* You said it as a joke, still you weren’t expecting the handsome man to laugh as hard as he did. You find yourself laughing along, waking up in your bed with tears in the corners of your eyes and laughter spilling past your lips.

* “What a wonderful dream.”

* You walk to school that morning feeling a little lighter. Excited to see all your old friends and classmates. Maybe you’ll even learn something interesting.

* ‘This is going to be a good year.’

* So imagine your surprise when you see a certain ocean-eyes boy at the gate.his gaze widens when he meets your eyes.

* “Hey (Y/N), do you go to Saint Catherine’s too?” Percy asks with a grin.

Tag list :

@holybatflapexpert @atomicsophia @fadingunknowncoffee @hopeworldsupremacy @padsfirewhisky @magical-dreamland @kookiedesi @kiritokunuwu @bleepmorp @flickeringlizard @luckyzipperscissorsbat @jessiegerl @undecided-as-always @officiallydarkgeek

@marsbars09 @yizhoutv @alicesolengg @luxaryllis-primaryacc @time-shardz @cryinghotmess @crow-with-a-hoodie @the-nerdy-fangirl @crackedpumpkin @geekyandgay98

@lazydreamers @agentsofblinks @justsomestuffiguessman @elodietea @mxacegrey @angelic-simp @astrial @babypink224221 @weaponb33 @redactedhimbo @heart-charming  @psychomanias @aliinunderland

@karnellius @lunavixia @cerberus-the-cutie @bes2005 @girlcrafter408 @loser-keiji @shadowsmusical @hazeofeleven

[listentothistrackbitches]

Facebook Chat Dialogue:

Me: Remember y’all, if no one feeding you Feed Yourself.

Me: (drawing WIP)

Me: Every time I had an ounce of hesitation or doubt, I remind myself, “At least this ain’t that AI bullshit”

Birdboy: NOT BOSTONIAN ACE

Me: LMAO honestly I was thinking more of our side of Massachusetts 😂😂😂

Birdboy: You… You do see how that’s worse, right?

Me: Absolutely. I want this man to be (censored) MA trash, baby.

Me: He ain’t a refined Boston man, this is a man drinking monsters, wearing Cookie Monster PJs, and eating 12 dozen Dunkin’ Donuts donuts.

Birdboy: Smash

Me: Thank you for understanding my vision Eddie (Birdboy)

Catmom: (to Birdboy’s comment “Smash”) Agreed

I really don’t like DD coffee tbh. But it’s hard to find a local coffee chain in the birth state of this cursed coffee franchise.

[guiltiest-gear]

CAN OF MONSTER ENERGY - C'MON BUDDY, CRACK MY TOP OPEN AND POUR THAT SWEET, SWEET NECTAR OF THE GODS INTO YOUR GULLET, YOU KNOW YOU WANNA!

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Trivial: Success] You spot the can of Monster Energy branded energy drink in front of you, it appears to be the original flavor, bearing a tall, black can, with a green logo on its front. The can has some condensation collected onto it, implying it's quite cold, perhaps straight out of the refrigerator overnight no less. The shimmer of the condensation is rather quite attractive, enticing you for a drink.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] Come on, you know well you want to indulge in the can, crack it open, meet the cold aluminum to your lips, and chug like the king you are. You could never live without this in your life. Feel the divine nectar fill you and satiate your urges already.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] Although the caffeine content and amount of sugar varies from flavor to flavor, you recall the original flavor contains 160mg of caffeine, and 54g of sugar.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] The average cup of coffee contains about 95mg of caffeine, drinking the can in full would be the rough equivalent of a little more than one and a half cups of coffee. With how much sugar there is, a crash would be inevitable.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Challenging: Success] A typical 12-ounce can of soda contains 29.4 to 42 grams of sugar, which is quite a lot already.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] That's rather quite *above* average for other drinks, it doesn't take a genius to know this isn't the healthiest choice, especially for yourself, let alone *anyone*.

VOLITION [Medium: Success] We don't need to drink the god forsaken Monster, let's just move on and put it back.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] Are you this much of a pussy to be scared of a damned drink? Grab the can and rip into it, feel it coursing through your veins, feel the rush of life within you. Drink it already, it's just getting warmer and less refreshing the more you leave it out.

HAND/EYE COORDINATION [Trivial: Success] You reach out for the can and grab it, with a relatively firm grip to make sure it doesn't slip and fall out of your hands, not much of a challenge at all. You then leverage a finger under the tab, lifting it up, opening the can.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Easy: Success] As the can opens, you hear the distinct crack of the can and the fizz of the carbonation bubbling out of the drink.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] There we go, now drink that shit all in. Taste it. Feel it. Chug like a king.

PERCEPTION (TOUCH) [Trivial: Success] As you lift the can to your lips, you feel the cold pinch of the aluminum can, and as it makes contact with your lips, it only feels colder still. You feel the cold liquid enter your mouth, the carbonation and flavoring of the liquid stinging your lips, tongue, mouth, and throat.

PERCEPTION (TASTE) [Challenging: Success] The taste of the liquid quickly fills your mouth. The flavor is rather...interesting. Rather quite overwhelmingly sweet, with salty, acidic, perhaps slightly bitter in some senses as a complimenting palette of taste. The indescribable flavor is the only thing you can notice. To some, the taste is like sweet ambrosia from the gods, to others, it's rather foul and unappealing, making them question why anyone would willingly indulge in something that both looks and almost tastes like battery acid.

CAN OF MONSTER ENERGY - KEEP DRINKING ME ALL UP BABY, YEAH, YOU FUCKING KNOW YOU LOVE IT, YOU'LL KEEP COMING BACK TO ME AFTER THIS!

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Challenging: Success] Fuck. Yes. Keep going, the can's speaking to you. Swallow it all, keep chugging, feel the life surge through you.

VOLITION [Formidable: Failure] This is honestly rather horrid, why did you drink this? I can't really stop you now.

ENDURANCE [Challenging: Success] Keep drinking, pussy. You've gotten in it now, don't stop until you finish. We started this, now we're going to finish it.

PAIN THRESHOLD [Legendary: Success] The drink burns deep within you. Fiery, acidic burn. Feel it, hardness its power, you *know* it feels good.

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Easy: Success] Within your stomach, it's like the pits of hell have opened up, bellowing within you, only feeding the fires more oxygen, burning hotter and brighter than ever.

ENDURANCE [Heroic: Success] There we go, finally finished the can, feel the power run through you, you're a fucking god.

INLAND EMPIRE [Medium: Success] This won't end well, if anything's for certain.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Formidable: Success] You need to crush the can against your forehead, show it who's boss, show off the power within you.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Challenging: Success] It's quite a large can, besides, cans are designed to withstand several atmospheres of pressure, your forehead is not.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Challenging: Success] You grip the can from the bottom, and proceed to crush it against your forehead easily. That felt good.

PAIN THRESHOLD [Medium: Success] Although the can stings a little against your head, you brush it off with ease, there's no blood after all. You're a fucking god.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Godly: Success] There we go, feel the surge of power within you, you're unstoppable now. You can do anything.

[augustyearroundprod]

In this modern riff on Frankenstein, a jaded young woman pursues a secret romance with the corpse she brought to life.

Written By: Nicki Holcomb Narrated By: Eliza Helm

This story is such a joy to read and listen to! @icki_nicki is one of the most talented people I know, and every ounce of her love and care is infused in her work. I’m so lucky to call her my friend and a dear colleague in this crazy industry. I can’t even tell you how lucky I feel to have met @elizahelm . Not only is she talented, she’s the brightest energy, and she lit up the room as we were recording. Truly, what an amazing human being! You can bet I’ll be bugging her to do more projects with us! But without further ado…

(UN)LIKEMINDED presents MAVEN & THE MONSTER

[zrllosyn]

oooooooooo tell us more about BB LEO AU 👀👀👀

[wip game ask]

OH BUDDY. BUDDY.... YOU CHOSE A GOOD ONE I LOVE BB LEO AU (kekkai sensen)

Mayhabs its obvious from the title but its an AU where Leo's a blood breed. Leo's kinda the same though!! He's here in helsalem's lot desperately looking for a way to 'cure' his sister's eyes. Blood breed or not, the 'gods' are beings beyond comprehension.

Story mainly takes place during volume 10 (s2 ep 11 and 12) and just. Leo caught between revealing he's a blood breed, his sister, Libra, and Gamimotz. Events are pretty close to canon but like, the stakes are completely different lmao

I LIKE IT A LOT. I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS. ITS LITERALLY COMPLETELY WRITTEN i just need to edit it. But editing. Hard.

Im gonna stop there before i keep rambling for like. Another 12 paragraphs about leo characterization n stuff in this one HSDJGHJGH

Have!! a pretty long snippet under the cut!

Snippet of intro:

His sister, however, he did care for. His sister was the only one who bothered to really bond with him, care for him. The only one he had truly grown to care.  And it was between him and his sister that space and time tore, the very air itself sparking into prismatic light so bright it seemed to invert the world. It was between him and his sister that Riga appeared.  And curse his luck it had to be him and his sister. And it had to be Riga, the one who could see through everything and anything.  The one that could see what he truly was. The one that knew who he was.  The one that contracted those thrice damned eyes that would see what he was.  "Choose." Riga's voice is flat of inflection, indifferent like he was inquiring about the weather. But Leo heard something else, mixed in with the demanding glisten voice.  "So this is where you were, progenitor of the cursed kin." If Riga's presence wasn't enough to make his blood turn cold, that statement, spoken in elder tongue and overlaying the English definitely did. He felt his cold sweat form on his palms as his entire body grew stiff, terror filling his every fiber.  The higher being sounded amused. That was never a good sign not to mention that Riga's presence meant one thing.  "Which will witness?" "This is most curious." His voice caught in his throat. If he accepted the eyes, Michella would be blind. Chair-bound and blind. If he refused, she would see. See who he was. See that he wasn't her brother, but a monster wearing his skin. And then he would lose her. But at least she would still see-- "If you must take from something, then take it from me." Michella is straight backed and unbowing, not an ounce of fear in her voice as she knowingly sacrifices her vision for him, and his conflicting emotions drain away into horror.  She had no hesitation in protecting him, and yet here he was debating his course of action.  "Michella--!!" "If you must take something, take it from me!!" Her voice is firm, and his body finally responds as he lunges forward, as if grabbing her would negate the contract.  "Understood." The echoing elder tongue sounded amused, and in a moment of startling clarity he sees Riga reaching forward with the glowing eyes and his sister, a faint smile on her face as she looks to him. He knows that look.  She was happy. Happy she protected him.  Happy, that she protected the beast that needed it least, under the guise of her brother.  He feels sick.  The world goes white.

[cccat-in-a-meat-sack]

Various roleplayer starters I have written because they're long and I like them:

tw// mentions of forced labor, sl@ves, implied h@ngings, and brief mentions of wh1pp1ng + not so brief mentions of d3ath, and m*rder

When Karael Zarall was 12 years old, he learned about family tradition and honor. It meant loving your family, putting them above all else, making them proud. When Karael Zarall was 12 years old he made a single promise, to always uphold his family tradition. When Karael Zarall was 12 years old, he made the first and last promise he ever made.

---

Karael always liked to get up with the sun. There was something about feeling the slightly damp grass and dirt, the feeling of sun heating up his skin as he trained, the feeling of knowing he was on a schedule with something otherworldy. Yet today, when his alarm clock rang and he could feel his albino mercat bumping her head against him, begging to be fed, there was just something. An unease in the air that stirred up trouble in his senses, that made his hair stand on end and his ears to be alright. Used to tradition however, he got up and pulled on a shirt, going to feed his mercat. He got a very special breed, one that could move between land and sea as they pleased, with webbed paws and gills but also all the perks of a normal cat. "There you go Abby." He mumbled, stroking her fur as he set the bowl down. He headed to the bathroom, brushing his hair and his teeth, not realizing what was off until he looked in the mirror. "Shit. It's today." He muttered under his breath, tying his hair back so it wouldn't be in his eyes, trying to ignore all the thoughts in his brain that told him to run, run far away from those monsters, run far away from it all. But, he didn't. Bring honor to your family. His brain whispered. So, he did. He made sure Abby's cat door was unlocked, he dressed in a simple attire of slightly loose black pants, a black t-shirt, added on his holsters for various weapons, and then he headed to the armory. Although he knew those assassins wouldn't have the chance to get to him before they were shot, he knew to be careful. Slipping on a simple piece of armor he designed himself, designed to look like a vest yet was bulletproof, stab and slash proof, and was designed to protect him no matter what. Now, he just needed to wait 6 hours before he would have to meet the criminals. He decided to look over Esor's file again, wanting to be prepared. Nothing really jumped out at him, nothing to be afraid of at least. He did pause for a moment at Esor's photo, studying it. Something about him just nagged at Karael, and he wasn't sure why. Either way, he shook the thought out of his head. That was a killer. An assassin. Someone who didn't deserve the opportunity they were given. But, his opinion was irrelevant. He was given an order, a plan to be followed and he would stick to it. For his king. For his family. For pride, tradition, and honor. But, he didn't want to be stuck with a cold-blooded killer, having to watch his back at every step. He didn't want to be nice to someone who had taken people away from their mothers, their fathers, their siblings. He didn't want to be around someone who blatantly didn't care about anyone but themself. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He could've requested a switch. But, it's not like anyone else would be much better. A bitter taste coiled in his stomach, however, as he looked over Esor's photo again. His eyes disturbed Karael, so dull and lifeless, but also evil. There wasn't an ounce of kindness, empathy. Karael felt bile rising in his throat. How could someone be so inhumane, so cruel? It didn't make sense to him. But staring at that face, looking into Esor's eyes in the photo, he couldn't help but feel as if something was wrong, something was going to change. He took Esor's photo out and ripped it up, tossing it in the trash can. Stupid photo.

---

Noon came all to fast. Karael was dragging his feet towards the courtyard, trying to think of an excuse not to go. Even though his brain was scared his body moved, head held high, body screaming confidence. It was engrained into his soul at this point, show no fear, show no weakness. Make your family proud. Prove you deserve their last name. So Karael kept walking, and as he approached the opened doors into the bright sunlight, it looked all to much like when people were dying in movies, going to the afterlife.

---

As he stood in the courtyard, feet planted firmly, arms behind his back at his lower back, he wanted to run. He didn't want to be so close to such a monster. But, he had a duty to uphold. So as the carriage got closer and closer, and as his anxiety got higher and higher, and took a deep breath, and squared his shoulders. Do it for your family. He reminded himself, and as he watched Esor leave the carriage, his head tilted up slightly. His photo did not do him justice.

(from the same rp):

Devwarion was not a place you wanted to be sent to. It was cold, bleak, rumored to be made from shadows and children’s nightmares. It has often been described as impossible to grasp the full terror and trauma the prison creates, but the look of it already is terrible. Made of obsidian, the jagged towers and smooth walls, along with 2 walls made it terrifying. The walls were so smooth a spider couldn’t stick to them, and no windows made the place all the more creepy. It was nestled in between two mountains, rarely snowing but always having a thin layer of frost. The most notable thing about the prison was the cold. It was freezing, cold that buried deep into your bones and never left. Frostbite was common, then thin blanket they provided never being enough to warm you. If the cold didn’t kill you the work would, working from before the sun was up till after it sank back into its slumber. Long, hard days working in the mines, mining salt and jewels for the country you had tried to tear down, the country who had put you in this hell. Death was a kinder fate than working in that prison.

Most people working in the mines were dead within a month. Maybe the ceiling caved in, maybe you were sent to the gallows, maybe you tried to escape and were shot, or perhaps you were just simply whipped to death. Whatever the reason, a month was average. The fastest time someone had died was 2 hours, they were brought to Devwarion at around 5:00 am, and were killed when a ceiling caved in at 7:00. There was no funeral, no mourning. There never was, prisoners who showed even the slightest bit of sadness or anger were punished, and not in the kinky way. There were thousands of prisoners in the prison, and none of them had ever been noteworthy. Until now. They were on a no-kill list by the king, which was something in itself, but they had all outlived the month-long average. And not just by one or two days, either. 

Esor Coy, codename: Rose. An assassin from Quedrand, an area where assassins were borderline underheard of. Confirmed kill count: 26. Age is unknown, looks about 20. Has been in Devwarion for a little under 2 years.

Alvara Marsden, codename: Beast tamer. An assassin from Draeldchy, confirmed kill count: 37. Age is 23, and has been in Devwarion for about a year and a half.

Envirious SerViano, codename: Black Lotus. Assassin from Quedrand, any possible ties to Esor unknown. Confirmed kill count: 43. Age: 20, has been in Devwarion for almost 8 months.

Callisto, last name unknown. Codename: Anemos. Assassin from Angbotin. Confirmed kill count: 46 . Age: 24, has been in Devwarion for almost 3 years. 

These four weren’t noticeable because they had the biggest kill counts, or the ones that were the most difficult to catch. What made these people deadly were their unpredictability and uniqueness. They were dangerous, perfect.

The king had run into trouble. He needed ruthless killers to work for him, who could work outside the law and save his country. His soldiers were good, amazing, but none of them quite fit the task he needed. It took 3 days and 4 nights for him to come up with the solution. 

Devwarion. 

These four assassins would be the key to the calmness of the kingdom, the survival and perseverance. But before that, he needed leverage. Something that would get these four to listen, to agree. None of them would be swayed by money, gold, perhaps not even freedom. Their hatred burned brighter than a thousand suns, and he couldn’t ignore that fact. So, he came up with something, something inhumane, something incredible, something that would work.

Then, his plan was set in motion.

3 months, was the time it took to lay the groundwork of his plan. Longer hours, harsher conditions, more punishments for the tiniest things. He needed them to long for freedom, to dream of the day they would die just so they could escape the hell they were trapped in. It was inhumane, yes, but did they really deserve to be treated as humans? In his eyes, no. They were tools, that was all. They were his to use, mold as he pleased.

When he looked into their eyes as he told them what would happen, he didn’t care about the emotions he saw. He didn’t care about the skepticism, the relief, the joy, the anxiety. He only cared about one emotion he saw in all four. 

Acceptance.

From there, it was easy, simple. Have guards take them to the castle. Have them train, meet their handlers, and they would be good. They would be alright. The kingdom would thrive, and if he had to do this he would.

—

The castle was a place that you wanted to be sent to. It was beautiful, bright, shining so much that even the sun hid in jealousy. It had four towers, each facing the four cardinal directions, where you could see guards patrolling. The outside of it was beautiful, with stained glass windows and smooth brick walls with plenty of floor-to-ceiling windows. The inside was just as beautiful, with marbled floors in the bathroom, kitchens, and main hallways, and soft oak wood making up the ballroom and bedrooms. The walls were decorated with tapestries and paintings, every so often flowers standing on side tables could be seen. Servants and knights bustled around, there was never stopping. If you worked well you would be rewarded, your family being tossed up in the social circle, bringing honor to them and you. Working among lush gardens, beautiful royalty, held in high honor, it’s no wonder the jobs were hard to come by.

Most people working in the castle never gave up their job. Not until they were on their deathbed, dying in comfort knowing their family would benefit from their death. Servants would work day and night to keep the king happy, keep their job. The soldiers were considered the best. There were five ranks, eagles, falcons, crows, ravens, and doves: the ranks named after the Queen’s favorite birds. Every soldier is extraordinary, most coming from Warbrosle, and kept up their duties with honor and pride. There were 4 soldiers who stood out though. They were favored by both the king and queen, with a couple rumored to even have captured the hearts of the princesses themselves. 

Karael Zarall, rank: Falcon. Exceptional soldier, turning down the rank of Eagle to continue fighting among the ranks. Excelled mostly in hand-to-hand combat and solo missions, but worked well in groups. He was best known for training new recruits, having a no-nonsense training to teach them respect.

Eden Carris, rank: Falcon. He was recently promoted, one of the quickest promotions on record, rising to the rank of Falcon in a mere 3 months. He was always up for a challenge, taking everything in stride as it’s handed to him. He worked mostly with larger-scale missions, often being the key to success. He rarely failed a mission, and even when he did, casualties were less than they would’ve been without him.

Arthur Vaesephine, rank: Falcon. He’s been a handler for 3 years, considered for the rank of Eagle but it was ultimately decided that he would run his own partition of soldiers. He’s more easy going, used more for city patrols and crowd control, but that doesn’t mean you should underestimate him. 

Elton Arvil. Rank: Falcon. Known as the artist of the rank, his skills look more like dancing than sword fighting. Don’t let this fool you though, he’s just as skilled as everyone else. Even more so, perhaps, specializing in carrying out precise strikes that much older and more experienced soldiers would struggle with. 

These four were the king's chosen ones, the ones he would choose to lead the assassins to a place of glory, a place of servitude, a place of good. They would make sure they stayed in line, were able to pass the trails, they would make sure those four were the ones that survived. Strong, skilled, perfect for the task. Who else would he choose?

So, the planning began. As the assassins slaved away and the handlers honed their skills, he began plotting. He sent scouts out to Devuniake, and they reported back to him about their planning and their leaders. He got assassins from all throughout the kingdom, 20 aside from the ones he wanted, assigning 20 other Falcons to watch over him. He matched up handlers to assassins, slaved away at writing 2 thousand word starters to make his friends happy, and he also ate pizza. Finally, everything was ready. 

—

The sun glares down upon the thick cobblestone walls, leaving stark, vivid shadows contrasting with the blinding bright reflections. The spiked shadows of the portcullis loom like the twisted teeth of some fell beast from Redbotnd. A horse nickers in the stables, and the air suddenly acquires a musty, damp smell, the smell of sweat and heat. A grinding, gravelly road runs straight ahead through a market into a towering stone keep. Tantalizing smells waft from the marketplace where colorful stalls selling everything imaginable sit in a confused muddle, a group of baby birds within their nest, the walls of the castle. The noise from the market comes in a sea of sound, starting slowly and building up before crashing down. Enticing scents waft between the stalls, masking the unsavory smell of sweat and spice. Rising above the bustle below like four eagles rising on an updraft, four towers stand stark against the sunlit sky giving a sense of power and control. Four flags fly high, their crimson contrasting with the blue sky. Through the heavy oak doors of the imposing keep there is a large chamber filled with rows of guards with armor and colors so flamboyant they almost distract your attention from the piles upon piles of glittering, golden treasure clustered around. The light from the teardrop shaped windows reflects off the treasure at all angles, filling the room with a warm, golden, glowing, glimmering light. Ceremonial swords and armor poke out of the piles occasionally, protruding at odd angles. Outside was warm, a lovely breeze blowing gently through the air. The handlers were ready and informed on what would happen, the assassins were almost at the castle, and the king’s plan was set in motion. He had informed the handlers to be ready in the courtyard at noon, and was not disappointed. The four of them stood ready, donning traditionally styled clothing, but he was slightly amused to see that they had added their own styles to the traditional clothing. He turned his head towards the gates as they opened, a calm expression on his face. There were roughly 7 guards for every assassin, the four assassins sitting inside a carriage, chained. The entourage stopped, and two guards opened the door to the carriage. The head of the group stepped out first, followed by the four assassins. They stood warily, but were herded into a line standing in front of the handlers. 

Finally, the king spoke. “Welcome to Quedrand.” He spoke, and noticed the various disgusted expressions from the assassins. He ignored them, and gestured at the 4 handlers. “These will be your personal guards during your visit. I suggest you be nice to each other, as you will be stuck together until the trials end.” Although the handler's faces remained neutral, he noticed Karael’s lips pressing together a little tighter. “Allow me to explain your pairings. Karael and Esor, you two will be together. Elton and Envirious, as will you two. Arthur and Alvara and Eden and Callisto are the last two pairs. Now, for the trails. There are twenty other contestants, and you are the last four to arrive. There will be a trial every other day, and you will be fighting against another assassin. The last four will be the ones who win, and will gain freedom after some time. The trials will be in different areas, and your task is to ‘kill’ your opponent. And I don’t mean that literally. You will get to choose your weapon, each will have substance that will glow when it touches an area you could kill someone. For now however, your handlers will show you the arena and your rooms. You may ask them any other questions then. Dismissed.”

--

Kailani was 5 years old when it found out that xe were connected to water. They were running through the forest from a group of hunters, and stumbled upon a lake. Without thinking, like it was natural instinct, it felt a tug in it's gut, unfamiliar but not unwelcome, and the water rose up behind them, attacking the men. They were dead within seconds, and the water curled around Kailani in a comforting manner, almost replacing the arms of zir late mother. Without a sound the water moved back to the lake, and Kailani was left alone with dead bodies, a confused mind, and a healing heart.

Kailani was 6 years old when ze moved to the coast, walking nearly 200 miles to get there. They stopped at every place with water to regain energy and heal their wounds, no longer scared of their connection. The water was friendly, welcome. They loved living along the coast building sand castles, swimming among sharks and dolphins, moving through the water like it was second nature.

Kailani was 7 years old when the village they lived in found out. They were no longer the sweet child loved by everyone, they were a demon, a monster. I'm 7! They wanted to scream. I don't want to hurt you! But the water let them know it was useless. They spent more time away, sneaking food whenever they could and playing more with the sharks and dolphins, an empty hole in their heart that no amount of playing could fix. The crack grew wider every day, as they were spit on, hit, hurt, just for something they couldn't control. 

Kailani was 8 years old when a tsunami came and tore about zir village, drowning and killing all 300 villagers. All except Kailani. The water avoided them, making a pocket underneath the water so Kailani stayed dry and unharmed. They watched the wreckage and destruction from a front-row street, and something began to grow in their heart, their broken heart. It wormed it's way through, fixing their heart, but not in a good way. They couldn't help but think it was what they deserved, for treating Kailani that way. It was a child. No one should hurt a child. 

Kailani was 9 years old when ze killed someone on purpose. The night was cold and dark, with a man greedily killing a baby animal who was just trying to drink. Perhaps it was the fact the deer was a baby that made Kailani so angry, and perhaps it was the fact the animal was just trying to drink. Either way, the dark, destruction parts of their heart that had sewn it together unleashed, the water grabbing the man almost telekinetically and choking him to death. Kailani stood over the body, yet they couldn't manage to find any sympathy. They felt almost guilty, but that was it. With a quick prayer to the deer they were off, back to go get food.

They were 10 when xe stopped caring about themself. It was hard to naturally, but when you're constantly shamed for your looks, how you talked, your accent, what you could do, it was nearly impossible to not start smashing mirrors, unable to look yourself in the face. Ze turned all their energy towards being helpful, using their connection to salvage ships, gold, get anything to make people happy. Just a single smile was all it needed.

Kailani had lost track of their age when they were tied up by men in white robes and shoved into a carriage. They had been sleeping peacefully, listening to the crickets chirping, feeling the bed underneath them and the blanket over them keeping them warm. A loose t-shirt and sweatpants adorned they body, which was much more modest than what they were most of the time. Kailani wasn't sure how the men found zim, but xe had a feeling it wasn't supposed to be like this. Metal handcuffs, tight enough it couldn't escape but loose enough that they would chaft their wrists. A bag over their head, to thick to see through but not thick enough they couldn't breath. Lifted into a carriage without a word, a soft, comfy carriage. They heard the horses neighing, and when they were able to rid their sleep-adelled mind of cobwebs, there wasn't any water around to protect them. So, they simply waited. Ever since they were 5 they had thought someone was going to come and kidnap them, take zim away for their connection and punish xim for going against the laws of nature. But it always imagined something more violent, more shouting, harsher conditions, more things like that. Instead the ride was smooth, almost lulling it back to sleep, and they had to shake their head so they wouldn't fall asleep. A quick upside down of their head removed the sack, and xe found itself to be in a windowless, royal carriage. The velvet was plush red, there were purple curtains decorating the space, and all in all it confused Kailani. What was going on?

When the carriage finally stopped, Kailani found zimself in front of a majestic building, and he didn't have time to admire it all as he was rushed inside. He was taken to a room, bindings taken off and was simply told to wait. Ze stayed calm about the situation, looking around instead admiring the decorations. The marble was cold under their bare feet, and there were 8 thrones, each with a light over them. White, Green, Black, Red, Blue, Pink, Yellow, Purple. They each had different inscriptions, and Kailani went over to the blue one first, it calling to him just as water did. Xe gently touched it, feeling the smooth marble, but was barely able to hold him up as images flashed across his vision. The creations of life. The calm beaches. Great storms. Throughout all of this, it lasted maybe 10 seconds, but only one phrase was heard. "Water holds memories. Welcome back, my God." 

"Yea, I'm officially going insane." Kailani mumbled.

[that-weird-skeleton-bastard]

More psychonauts incorrect quotes?

Ford: You have any sunscreen? Milla: You can't get a sunburn from a bonfire— Ford: It's for my marshmallow ya dummy.

*****

Raz: I’m genuinely surprised you haven’t gotten arrested, let alone gotten a felony yet. Ford: Nat 20 Charisma. Raz: That is NOT how that works-

*****

Lili: I’ve only ever said ‘I love you’ to two people in my entire life: Raz and a guy in a dark club who I mistook for Raz.

*****

Ford: How would you like to live forever? bobby: I'd hate it. Shut the fuck up.

*****

Raz: Oh my Sasha . Ford: Don't you mean 'oh my god'? Raz: You worship your god, I'll worship mine.

*****

Lili: Astrology is fun because i can pretend that all of my behaviors are just a result of being a Gemini and not symptoms of mental illness. bobby: Being a Gemini is a mental illness. That’s not hate it’s just a fact.

*****

*Sasha and Ford are texting* Sasha : Who are you? Someone changed the names in my phone. Ford: What did they change my name to? Sasha : Chosen One. Ford: Don’t change it back. Sasha : BUT WHO ARE YOU?!?! Ford: I’m the chosen one.

*****

Ford: A stake to the heart won't kill a vampire if their tits are big enough. Raz: Yeah, you just catch it. Milla: Nah nah nah, deflects it. Stake? Just bounces right off. Done. Back to doing hot girl shit. Sasha : Then I just use a spear instead. Ford: You are trying so hard to kill a vampire with big bazongas, and for what? Why would you do that to the ecosystem?

*****

Ford: So I have made the decision to trust you. Raz: A horrible decision, really.

*****

bobby: Yeah, I don’t like people. Milla: Oh, well now that’s not fair bobby. Have you met all of them? bobby: I’ve met enough of them. People. What a bunch of bastards!

*****

*Raz sneezes* Lili: Raz, are you sick? Here, let me wrap you in a blanket and hand-feed you some warm soup while singing you a lullaby! *Ford sneezes* Lili: Oh my god. Shut the hell up.

*****

Raz, looking at the squad: Okay, so I need to become a therapist faster.

*****

Sasha : What do we say when life disappoints us? Raz: Called it! Sasha : No.

*****

Lili: Why are you like this?? Sasha : I used too much "No More Tears" shampoo as a kid and I haven't felt a single emotion since.

*****

Sasha : Hello all, it is I, your favorite person. Raz: Actually, Lili is my favourite. Sasha : Okay then, it is I, that bitch.

*****

Milla, teaching Raz to drive: Okay Raz, what does a green light mean? Raz: Go! Milla: A red light? Raz: Stop! Milla: And what about a yellow light? Raz: If you floor it, you can make it! Milla: …No—

*****

Raz: The only thing I'm guilty of is being adorable... ...and also assault with a deadly weapon.

*****

Sasha : Today at 7 am, Raz poured a Monster energy drink in their coffee, said "I'm going to die" and drank the whole thing. Ford: I watched Raz brew their coffee with Monster instead of water. Three cups in two hours. I think they ascended into the astral realm. Sasha : The survivability of the human race never fails to amaze me.

*****

Lili: I'm very scary. Ford: You're about as scary as a wet kitten. Lili: Wet kittens are cute, at least I've got that going for me. Ford: And small. Lili: Lili: ...Yeah, yeah. I guess.

*****

Milla: What’s wrong? You look 10 seconds away from ripping someone’s throat out. Lili: Fucking Raz and Ford were trying to invoke one of the minor gods again last night. I didn't get an ounce of sleep, thanks to their bloody chanting.

*****

Sasha : Helpful grammar tip: “farther” is for physical distance, “further” is for methaphorical distance, and “father” is for emotional distance.

*****

Ford: *gets a text* Oh! It’s Raz. Milla, excitedly: Did they get me the stuff? Ford: Yeah, they say they got you the clown costume, the power drill, and 12 gallons of blood. Milla: Wow! Where’d they find 12 gallons of fake blood? Ford: You wanted fake blood? Milla: Ford: I’ll go call Raz.

*****

Ford: Do you think different paints have different tastes? Raz: They do. Sasha: ...Why did you say that with such certainty?

*****

bobby: Anyone d- Raz: Depressed? Ford: Drained? Sasha : Dumb? Lili: Disliked? bobby: -done with their work... what is wrong with you people...

*****

Lili: BEHOLD, the field in which I grow my fucks! Lay thine eyes upon it, and thou shalt see that it is barren!

[beeceit]

So I just realized that I've had a full french press of coffee (12 ounces I think? Plus I make it pretty strong), another 24 ounces of coffee at work, plus the mega monster which is 2 cans worth I think

My ass is so fat and I'm never gonna die. I regret nothing and I can't close my eyes now

[dont-look-me-in-the-eye]

6. what is something that you’ve always wanted to do but have never been able to do?

so, before i answer this, you'll probably need some context.

2013 was the worst year of my life. i'm not sure why exactly. i think it was a combination of a couple factors. i was a kid, bad shit happened around that time, i couldn't speak english, whatever. it doesn't really matter, you just have to know that 2014 was the worst year of my life. i could answer this question straight-forwardly, but i'm a tricky bastard who likes telling stories. this one is true, though, and i've been trying to get better at telling true stories, rather than ones where the truth is filtered through at least 3 different running jokes i have with myself to prevent an ounce of genuine thought coming out of my head, because vulnerability scares me. what was i saying again? oh yeah. lemme start at the beginning;

i wasn't really the type of kid to play. i mean, i did mess around with a monster truck that my cousin left at our house, i had a little wind-up spiderman four-wheeled motorcycle (with no spiderman in sight, btw. i don't know what happened to him), and i enjoyed making up elaborate torture stories involving princess dolls and a few action figures we had laying around. but i didn't really play. playing like that was a chore.

i was, well, to put it a better way, annoying. i was the kind of kid to ask why a billion times until - actually, i don't remember. my memory of that time period is foggy. the point is, we were annoying.

so, when i learned to read, that was a trip, right. like, an entire world in your hands. someone who knew me back then would say that i was a bookworm. i'm not. reading is also a chore. but i got very good at looking like it was not.

fast-forward to around 2020ish. ah yes. the Unspeakable Years. when we got here, it's just... an eternity of 'meh'. nothing to do but to lounge around, wake up late, sit in a chair all day for school, blah blah, blah blah blah. not the worst years of my life, but the most... painful. because i wasn't really learning anything, and that makes me miserable. it also took almost four years to recover from.

anyways, going back again, at some point my parents got annoyed with me and decided to propose other avenues for information other than them. enter: the library. we went almost every day. we got most of our dvds from there. it's trashy and actually inside of a tiny school that most people avoid sending their children to, right next to a train station so it rumbles every twenty or so minutes, and has quite a limited amount of titles, so if you ask if they have a specific book, chances are, they don't. i still think it's the best place in the world.

when i say i didn't learn anything, i did, actually, but i didn't find a puzzle, anymore. i can't solve what's not there. it was just - gone. devastating. blank. nothing.

you know, i didn't play that much, but i used to entertain myself by staring at a wall and furiously contemplating questions. like why do things bounce and how does a pen work? it took taking apart a few pens to figure that one out. there's a satisfaction in discovering elegant solutions to mundane problems.

2013. 12? 15? it doesn't matter. you are sitting with me, as i am now, in our old house. ignore the police sirens. we are... outside. backyard, on the porch. it's nice. the sun is setting. have you ever wondered why the sky turns different colors when it sets? it's because of how fast different colors travel on the visible spectrum - ah. you're bored. let's go inside, we've seen this a billion times. we're in the kitchen. if you listen closely, you can hear a child pleading upstairs. ignore that, that's me. you can guess what's happening, i'm not gonna tell you.

i love reading. well, no, i don't like reading, i like hearing stories, i like learning new things. i find that i know a bit more than most kids my age. a little too much more.

let's go to me a few weeks ago. i'm sitting in the garage, new house. much bigger, sirens only a few times a month. even less. i'm staring at the floor, trying to understand derivatives because what the fuck. this is a common theme in my life. now i am pacing around the room, assigning objects random values, trying to - well, you get the point.

i always wanted to understand. pain, pleasure, mechanics, everything. i always wanted to understand everything. yeah. it'll never happen. everything is too broad, and while infinity does not exist as a number, it is a very real adjective. a mere speck like me on a slightly bigger bluer speck like earth could never understand everything.

but goddamnit, i'm a tricky bastard and i'll be fucked if i never try.