#BET ITS A HELLUVA SHAKE

[everyday-is-brighter-with-you]

[ID: Grayscale  darkly shaded, loosely lined sketch of Juliet Butler till a little below her back. The view is from back. She turns and has a small smile at the viewer. Wears boxing top and shorts. On her top a neon teal sign says ‘JP’. 

A bright teal string from top loops and circles her figure. The background gradient is light to dark. end ID]

A quick Juliet sketch

While listening to K/DA-popstars

[ssplague]

Chapter 0ne

“And so it begins”

Katsuki B. X Reader

Rated M

Warnings: Gaslighting, manipulation, power play, light degradation

The day before the two of you left for UA; Your best friend gave her word to your mother that she would always look after you. Now that the two of you are in your third year she’s officially FED UP with your attitude and childish antics. Mentioning her dilemma to your shared group of friends results in the most unlikely person offering to be her solution to the problem that is YOU.

A/N: The girl in the banner is NOT how the reader is “supposed” to look, it was just a drawing I did specifically for this. You look however you want to, I don’t really make any specific references to your appearance in this story.

🌅

Its Saturday morning; Ive been awake for about five minutes now, but I’m not ready to open my eyes and embrace the conscious world just yet. Hearing the door of my room unlock and open does the trick though. Only one person (other than myself of course) has a key to my dorm room.

“I made breakfast for the both of us, its your favorite” announces Euphie as she walks in, kicking the door shut behind her. I sit up, just as she’s pushing my black out curtains to the side I let out a hiss of disdain as sunlight immediately begins to permeate the room.

“Thank you Euphie” I say with a yawn.

She hands me a plate before settling down on my bed, acknowledging my thanks with a nod as we both tuck in.

“We have plans this afternoon, can you be ready by at least 12:30? No need to get super made up but at least out of your pajamas?” Euphies voice is gentle, but I catch the underlying “I’m not asking, but telling you” vibe she tries to hide.

“For sure”

She smiles at my seemingly agreeable mood so early in the morning and we easily segway into our standard start of the day discussions. “Are we um…Are we going to be busy all day? I….I kinda planned on going to hangout with-“ Euphie cuts me off as she picks up our plates: “No worries you’ll have plenty of time for that, I promise!” Giving me a wink before shutting my door.

She didn’t even know who I was referring to, or what I was going to say….

At 12:55 Euphie reappears to rush me out of my room.

“Hey I forgot my purse I-“

“Don’t need it”

“But my wallet is-“

“Not necessary”

Her tone is clipped, and she has a death grip on my wrist as she quite literally drags me down the hallway. Initially I was taken aback, not being used to receiving this type of treatment from her. My bearings have started returning along with growing frustration each time one of my questions are receiving one word answers, or met with a complete dismissal. Reaching my limit I fail to notice that she’d began to slow down, and I’m wrenching my wrist free of her grip at the exact same time she’d come to a stop.

“What in the fuck is your problem?! You told me that we had plans to go out this afternoon, and you’d treat me to whatever I want!

This-“ I’m interrupted again.

“I certainly wouldn’t do anything for a fuckin’ brat throwing a tantrum like this”

My eyes snap to the side where I see the irritated scowl of one Katsuki Bakugou, as he leans against his door frame glowering at me. Embarrassment further fuels my anger as I turn toward him, pointing an acusatory finger as I begin “No one fucking asked you, stay out of it Katsu-“.

Kirishima suddenly emerges from Bakugo’s room, giving Euphie an enthusastic greeting

“Hey there! You look nice, ready to head out?”. The red head is flashing his signature shark toothed grip at my best friend as he offers her his arm. “You know it” she giggles, taking hold of his muscular bicep. The two of them start to walk off, confused and furious I start to head after them, but a large hand grips my shoulder grounding me in place.

“Bakugo told me he wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on you while Kiri and I went out this afternoon, this way you’ll stay out of trouble and get to keep the plans you’d made with him, bye!” The closing elevator doors add a sudden finalization to her brief explanation.

“Plans?” Bakugo questions while uncermoniously yanking me backwards.

I stumble back, falling through the doorway and landing flat on my ass in front of the now closed door (Which he is standing in front of). Glaring up at him as he continues: “She must have me confused with the local brothel, because thats the only place I’d imagine wearing a skirt as short as that would be deemed appropriate”. His insult doesn’t deter his crimson eyes from roaming the length of my body, lingering on the aforementioned skirt. Getting to my feet, he walks around me and move towards his desk, taking a seat behind it.

“Oh fuck you Katsuki, you can be a real dick sometimes, I dunno what stupid Euphie told you about keeping and eye on me, but I dont need a fucking baby sitter! So ill be off now” with a huff you turn towards the door. “________, I’m not in the mood for bullshit today so just sit down and shut up” he growls, not turning to look at you. He always feels embarrassingly giddy when you adress him by his first name, thats why he insisted you call him by it. That in itself should be an indication of how he seems to favor you.

It makes him almost feel a bit guilty for using a harsh tone when he’d spoken to you. Despite how he treats others, Katsuki is hardly ever outright mean to you; He’s never even given you a derogatory nickname like he has for everyone else. Today’s an off day though…He’s just not used to running on little to no sleep. That paired with his already non existent level of patience makes for a blow up. Especially when YOU were the cause of his latest bout of insomnia….turning to look at you has his thoughts beginning to wander.

Those lips of yours flapping away as you berate him…

They sure would look a helluva lot better wrapped around his-

“-Not even fucking listening to me are you?!” You snarl, starting towards the door again. “I cant believe I woke up this morning wanting to hangout with YOU, guess I’ll change my plans and hangout with someone not so shitty to me…. Like Deku!” A loud crash comes from behind you. The now enraged man had stood up so abruptly, it sent his now vacated chair careening into the wall and toppling over.

“You really just cant help yourself can you?”

His voice is so eerily quiet as he turns to face you, something unidentifiable flashes in his rapidly darkening crimson orbs. You couldn’t exactly identify it, considering it disappeared as abruptly as it had originally came.

“Course you cant, I already know that”

A menacing smile appears on his face as he takes his first step toward you, immediately triggering your natural “Fight or flight” response.

“I know what you need”

He’s only an arms length away when you start to step back.

“You dont know shit”

You somehow summon the courage to speak, but are unable to summon any false bravado to keep you from betraying how unnerved he’s got you feeling as he takes another step.

“I know that your best friend cant stand what a spoiled fuckin’ brat you’ve become, I know she’s so fed up with your shit that she’s about to write you off completely”

The defiant expression you’d worn all this time finally starts to falter.

This marks the first time Katsuki has ever seen how you look when your confidence begins to ebb away, only to be replaced with a mixture of uncertainty and fear.

His sadistic side emerges with glee as your now saddened doe eyes meet his.

“You’re constantly disregarding everyone’s opinion of you unless it aligns with your own, but you dont even know what to think of yourself now that your faced with the possibility of being alone now…do you?

You remain silent, taking yet another step back as he continues speaking.

“You need someone who isn’t afraid to correct you, but they’ll have to of earned your respect….So when you inevitably step out of line, you wont put up a fight when you get put over their knee”

Your back hits the wall.

You swallow down the panic that slowly begun to rise from your chest up into your throat as you realize there is nowhere left for you to go.

“You desperately want to be a good girl, just dont know how to be one, huh princess?”

It’s so adorable the way your bottom lip juts out, but at the first quiver it quickly gets sucked between your teeth.

“That’s why you’re acting out right now isn’t it?

I bet you drench your cute little panties every time you get a rise out of me. Always hoping that its going to be the time I yank you the fuck up and put this brat in her goddamn place, hah?”

You shamelessly lean into the large hand thats now cupping your cheek, letting out a sigh as his thumb caresses your soft skin.

“Mhmmm”

It’s horrifying how easily you just admitted your most guarded secret! The triumphant smirk he sports makes it even harder to accept.

His tone is surprisingly gentle when he starts addressing you once again;

“I can do that for you baby….Let me be the one that finally brings the princess down on her knees”.

Your eyes are practically sparkling at the feel of a sudden pressure being applied to your throat. His calloused fingers squeezing the delicate skin of your neck, effectively making it harder and harder for you to breathe. The thrill of this foreign feeling is instantly addicting.

“Tell me if thats what you want: If its not then shake your head and we never speak of this again”

Bakugo has to at least give the illusion that you have a choice in the matter. Even though its more than obvious that you need want this just as much as he does.

“I want it, I want you” your words come out in a breathy whisper as he releases his hold on your throat.

“I wanna hear you say it princess, what do you want me to do with you”

“I want…no I NEED you to….t-to make me into your good girl please…”

He gestures for you to continue, his raised brow implying you must be forgetting something.

“Please make me into your good girl….Daddy”

The pleading expression and twinge of desperation in your voice stirs something deep inside Bakugo. It was something akin to the last vestiges of some ancient seal had disappeared: The monster that it had rendered dormant had finally roused from its slumber, intent on wreaking havoc.

“You do understand that you’re mine now right ________? Every part of your being belongs solely to me”

Gorgeous ruby eyes scrutinize your face carefully, searching for a single trace of fear, uncertainty, or possible apprehension. All they found was admiration and girlish excitement, and this earned you a genuine smile from the almost always scowling young man.

“Yes, every part of me belongs to you now Katsuki”

“Better get used to this then”

Before you could inquire what he was referring to, he was kissing you.

❤️‍🔥

A/N: So concludes chapter one

Oh god I hope this is well received.

Should I get a tag list together? Is it too soon? If anyone would be interested leave a comment. SMUT in the next chapter, we’re moving faster here because let’s be honest; Smut is what all of us want! 💦

[ukthxbye]

This is All I’m Asking For

a slightly cracky fun Christmas Sherlolly fic

on ao3

Greg Lestrade welcomed the warmth of the nightclub as he stepped in. December is already icy and bleak, and for once the stuffy club a blessing from the chill.

 John stayed posted near the door with a nod to him and Sherlock as both men pocketed their gloves. Greg handed his coat to the coat check, but Sherlock kept his as usual.

  Greg scanned the room, eyes adjusting to the mixture of darkness, coloured lights, fairy light strands, and glittery clothes. Two Drag queens on stage set the crowded room into rolling laughter. Greg listened to their set and cackled at the banter.

 Sherlock remained at his side, silent and wholly uninterested. Greg elbowed him in his side. 

 “We’re supposed to look like we’re out here after work.”

 “Yes… we really look the type, don’t we?” Sherlock said with a mocking shake of his head. 

 Greg squinted and waved his hand,  “Oh shut it.’

 Sherlock spoke low near Greg's ear. “Yes.. plan is, the suspect in question slips out during the show. That’s the suspicion, anyway. John has the front covered.”

 “And Sally the back,” Greg said, rubbing near his mouth to obscure in case there was a lip reader in the crowd. “We’re set. Talked to one performer yesterday, and they said they got a big holiday number tonight. The suspect was pretty miffed they were cut from it for a new girl, apparently. They’ve been stealing all the performers’ tips, but they got motive tonight,” Greg said with a smirk as he looked around Sherlock checking John’s location. 

 Sherlock shrugged as if in boredom, and Greg rolled his eyes as he sighed. “Look, it’s petty crime, but apparently they know some people in something bigger.”

“Bigger?” 

 Greg shrugged, considering taking the jacket off of his dark grey wool suit. “Yeah… drugs maybe? Hey, the performer I talked to said they chat about having a boyfriend in some sort of criminal organisation.” 

 “Hmm” is all Sherlock said with a sniff and returned to the mobile. 

 “You know something then?”

 “Yes, your information is… well… but I’ll let you suss it all out. Consider it a Christmas gift.”

 Greg shook his head but turned to see their informant approaching. He’d met the person out of drag, but Greg’s jaw dropped a little at the vision before him. Very fishy as the drag queens say, Greg mused as the informant slinked over in a red sequin gown. 

 She leaned against the bar, and Greg mirrored her.

 “Hey darling, not sure if you remember—”

 “Yeah… DI, after all, got to remember faces, even in disguise,” Greg said, flashing his boyish grin. “What do I call you tonight?”

 “Anything you like if you keep smiling like that,” she grinned back with a wink. 

 Greg snickered, “So when does the show start?”

 “Baby, the only show you need is right here,” the queen said. “Ms Shantala is a star just standing. You should see me dance.”

 “Do I get that pleasure tonight?”

 She bit her lip, tapping his arm lightly as she raised an eyebrow.  “Later darling… or even later later if you like a different sort of—”

 But another queen who rushed up whispering in Ms Shantala’s ear and with a quick nod she hurried off, blowing him a quick kiss.

 Greg watched her walk away intently. Sherlock shot him a look and Greg shot one back chin raised.  “What? I ain’t got a date for Christmas. You never know...”

 “Hmm,” Sherlock murmured as she took off his scarf and placed it in his coat pocket, and glanced and raised an eyebrow at Greg.

 A disinterested Sherlock wasn’t unusual, but tonight it irritated Greg.

 “You got a date for Christmas so you can insult me?” Greg smirked.

 Sherlock’s eyes widened and narrowed as he swallowed hard.  Greg spied it and frowned.

 “Of course I do not… anyway irrelevant… can we be seated for the show ?”

 Sherlock pushed past him to avoid a group headed to the bar. 

 He contemplated the change in his friend but stored it away for later and put his thought to the task ahead. 

 Greg settled into his seat, and Sherlock beside him just in time for the stage lights dimmed out as the crowd cheered and clapped.

 A small curtain opened as the song began, the tinkling notes of a familiar song. “Mariah Carey then” Greg murmured.

 The spot landed on a figure on stage dressed in a red fur trimmed hooded floor length coat with their back to the hushed audience. They turned, but their face except for cherry red lips obscured as they moved their hand to their hood.  On the lyric of “you”, they looked right at Sherlock and pointed. The piano and music came in and they lifted the hood.

 Greg gasped and coughed.

 Molly Hooper, dancing and lip syncing, right before them.  Heavy makeup with smokey eyes and false eyelashes, but no denying it's her as she shimmied across the stage. Greg hardly noticed the two drag queens, including Ms Shantala, also spotlighted as the backup singers. Or the two shirtless male dancers, one dressed as an elf and the other as a reindeer.His stare locked on Molly dancing as she opened up the jacket revealing a body suit of red velvet with fur trim and a very low cut. 

 Greg’s elbow connected with Sherlock’s ribs but no response made him slap his arm until Sherlock slapped back.

 Sherlock gritted out, “Why are you hitting me?”

 “Sherlock. It’s Molly” Greg mouthed with exaggeration and pointed. 

 Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Yes, I can see that clearly.”

 Greg glanced back at her, as she dropped the coat down to just the bodysuit which the low cut matched in the back as she twirled around and she danced to the other side of the stage for a setup with a prop with a fake fireplace one of the mail dancers wheeled on. The reindeer one wheeled a Christmas tree on the other side. Shock washed over Greg on multiple levels as she slid down the side of one dancer and back up seductively as they lifted her up under her arms.

 Greg turned to Sherlock, not sure if he should even stare at Molly dressed like that, dancing like that, and Greg’s blood boiled immediately. Sherlock’s eyes on his mobile and typing. 

 He reached across with two hands on Sherlock’s mobile. They tugged, staring at the other silently. Greg struggled, but he whispered, “Look!’ and gripped hard, yanking away the device by the time Molly danced back around to in front of them. They both glanced at her, Greg shooting her a quick smile as she looked his way. But he stared back at his friend.

 Sherlock bared his teeth at him.  

 Greg whispered, risking leaning in.  “I’m gonna kick your ass.”

 “Sure, Graham,” Sherlock mocked.

 “Fucking hell, I swear to God—“

 “You can glare all you want,” Sherlock huffed.

Greg looked back as the two dancers dropped fake snow on top of her.

 “I’m throttling you after the song.” Greg demonstrated it with his hand as he whispered it loudly. 

 “O-kay” Sherlock smirked and rolled his eyes. 

 “Jesus Christ...Sherlock. ” 

 “What?”

 Defeat washed over Greg as he leaned in so Sherlock could hear him. “God dammit man, she’s singing it to you, you fucking twat.”

 Sherlock frowned deep. “Its lip-sync not singing you can clearly see by her breath she’s—”

“That’s it. Oh, no… mmm no ok I’m kicking your ass after this” Greg folded his arm and then unfolded them. 

 ‘Wasn’t there a case you were supposed to do something?" Sherlock huffed. 

 “Well, this is more important now.”

 “Is it?”

 “Yes, pay... attention.” Greg pointed at the stage, holding Sherlock’s stare.

 “If I do... will you give me my mobile back?”

 The last line of the song approached. “ Make my wish come true”  and Greg sucked in a hard breath. “I’m gonna kill you. “

 “Fine!”

 As the last “ You ” note started, Sherlock leapt up on stage and kissed her at the high note, holding her tight to him. 

 Crowd whooped and hollered and Greg sat stiff still with his jaw nearly on the floor. 

 Greg’s, and Sherlock’s mobile buzzed. Text from John about the criminal being in custody. Greg cocked his head to the side in thought, trying to piece it all together. 

 When he looked up at the stage, he saw the reason the crowd cheered again. Molly jumped up and wrapped her legs around as Sherlock placed his hands under her bum for support. Greg’s smile crept in despite the confusion and he clapped, forgetting the mobiles in his hand and nearly dropping them before shoving them in his pocket.

 Ms Shantala cackled into the mic,  “Yaaasss gurl yaasss! Climb him like a tree! We love love! Merry Christmas indeed, Sherlock Holmes!”

 Greg stared at the couple now still clinging to each other but chatting with Ms Shantala as they exited the stage with a bow to much uproar and whistling from the crowd.

 He smugly strode around the crowd to find Sherlock helping Molly put the coat back on. 

 Greg chuckled as he folded his arms “So—”

 “We’ve been dating 6 months.” Sherlock smirked.

 Once more thrown off. “What?” He glanced back and forth between Sherlock and Molly.

 Molly bit her bottom lip and grinned, “It’s true. It was all part of the setup.”

 Greg huffed. “Well, I was certainly distracted but not so sure about the suspect—”

 “It’s really simple, George—”

 “Greg,” Molly said, smacking Sherlock in the chest with her free hand.

 Sherlock smirked at her, and then back at Greg. “Gregory, the suspect knew you were here, but he thought you would have arrested him. Us watching the show so intently, he saw your preoccupation and assumed he could leave unencumbered. He did not however bet on me, or John or Scotland Yard you placed outside.”

 Greg rubbed his forehead and down his face, smiling wearily. “You could have just told me... any of it… all of it. I mean, congrats. God, I’m chuffed but… helluva way to find out. Next time just tell me.”

 Sherlock glanced down at Molly, and they shared a mischievous smirk together. 

 Molly looked back at Greg, “Well now where’s the fun in that?”

[cruzrogue]

Sorry it took so long to get back to you.

Here goes…also on A03 now...

Double Trouble

Barry Allen has always gotten himself into hot water with the best of intentions. He called his pal, a mentor of sorts because Oliver Queen told him to be that hero. A hero in the light. He’s tried and succeed with the help of his friends. Though this time he wonders if what he did will break the barriers of the friendship a comradery of sorts as he called Oliver an hour ago since the man is in Central City to meet him in a public space. That’s a safe bet, right? Oliver won’t attack him outright if the news he’s about to deliver is more than the man can handle.

“Barry, is everything alright?”

“Yea, everything is honkey dory.” That has Oliver raising an eyebrow, “Want a coffee? My treat.”

“No, I’m good. Thanks”

“Well I want one.” He than mutters, “I so need it.” Barry turns to the barista and asks for his drink just as he likes it. Turning to Oliver again, “You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Oliver just wants to know what the urgency is as he watches the man before him. Barry keeps fiddling with his hands but is extremely grateful to the lady behind the counter to give him his coffee so is hands are now occupied. “How long is this going to take? I’m meeting up with Felicity as we are going to that matinée she’s been raving about.”

“How is Felicity, anyways? Feeling good? Are you guys going out drinking after?”

Oliver looks at his friend like he has two heads.

“Well I hope my wife and I can enjoy a nice dinner after. Why these weird questions? You just spent practically a week with her before I came up to Central with Mia and William?”

“Just small talk. I see a table.” Pointing to it. “Let’s sit and umm… catch up.”

Oliver trails after Barry who almost sped lighten fast away from him in a crowded shop.

“Barry? What is going on with you?”

Barry places his coffee that he hasn’t even taken a sip from at the edge of their table. He tries to explain. It starts off like excuses. Going around in circles without saying much.

The moment Barry Allen mentions Felicity Smoak-Queen with the added word experiment. Oliver is sitting more rigid in the chair just on the other side of the table.

“Barry, what is going on?”

“Well… The thing is… You know Iris and I are trying to have a baby. Especially since a good amount of time has passed when Nora was in our world.”

“Okay. I hope its going well. I spoke to Iris before coming up. She sounded cheerful. Does that mean…”

“No. No. Since Iris is dealing with superpowers, she doesn’t want to add more stress on her plate.”

“Oh, well that makes perfect sense. She’s going to be a great mom.”

“That’s the thing, I’m ready to be a dad. I have powers and that isn’t going away so…”

“Barry, you’re not the one who will get pregnant and have a little being growing in you. All you can do is be there and be helluva supportive man to the mother of your child.”

“I always wanted twins.”

“That’s mighty ambitious for you. Double trouble on all fronts.”

“Well…”

Oliver watches as the man goes through the roundabout conversation that has Oliver begin to wonder why he is actually here.

“Barry? Why did you call me when I was going to head to the lab where you were anyhow?”

Barry looks around then as he brings his hands back upon the table. All of a sudden, they look really interesting.

“Barry!”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

Okay, if Oliver had the feeling of dread rising it is now full on as he looks at the younger man.

“What… did… you… do?”

“I came across a serum. It has great possibility to create multiple organic cells and…”

“And?”

“Well nothing would really happen.“

“I can tell something happened?”

Oliver is now looking at the man as he can’t control his own hand gestures. Bringing his hand across his face and to just hold it before his own face. Piercing eyes looking at what is turning out to be a very, very bad conversation.

“Not only that. Is it the reason we are in public? I swear to all that is holy. If you hurt Felicity I may reach over and maim you.”

“Like I said, nothing should have happened but before I continue. Congratulation. I didn’t think you and Felicity were thinking of growing the family so soon. Mia is what ten months now?”

“Barry! What are you saying?” Oliver looks at the man who is now all mum before him, “It sounds like your telling me that Felicity is pregnant?”

Barry shrugs to those words.

“Why would you know if Felicity is pregnant?” Oliver seemly confused, “She would tell me first.”

“She doesn’t know.”

“Alright. What the hell Barry!” Oliver wants answers and he might just reach over and shake them out of what is now a semi-quiet man before him.

“It was an accident. Caitlin, Felicity, and Cisco were in the lab. I came in quickly and somehow the vial fell and broke. It emitted a brief gas into the air before it dissipated. Caitlin’s bloodwork was cleared and Cisco and I are guys so we are also clear but…”

“Felicity is pregnant.”

Barry nodded quickly.

“How did you get blood samples?”

“I’m the Flash.”

“What does this mean Barry?”

“It means I highly anticipate you and Felicity having more than one child after the nine months.”

“Well it’s a good thing you’re fast.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to…” As Oliver reaches for Barry. The man disappears. Oliver speaking to the red blur running away, “You are so going to be on diaper duty. That is… if Felicity doesn’t kill you first.”

[lady-divine-writes]

Possession Is Nine-Tenths (Rated M)

Summary: Aziraphale tries his best to dodge intimate questions from Tracy when she visits him in the South Downs on his honeymoon.

Crowley, however, doesn't help matters when he finally wakes up and she sees what he's wearing. (1192 words)

Notes: Based on the idea that now that Aziraphale and Crowley are married, Crowley wears Aziraphale's sweaters and whatnot to bed. But maybe sweaters are not all Aziraphale owns XD Inspired by this post. 

Read on AO3.

“The South Downs, huh?” Tracy asks, those four words posing all the question she needs. As city dwellers the both of them, it does make sense. Translation: “I never thought you’d leave the hustle and bustle behind for green grass and horse shite.”

Tracy and Aziraphale may have only known one another a short time, but they shared a body. That includes sharing a mind. The cohabitation of another being’s vessel is not a clean business. Traces get left behind when one entity leaves, like muddy footprints on the linoleum floor of the hippocampus. Tracy knows how Aziraphale feels about his bookshop and Soho.

She knows why he moved there in the first place.

“Yes, well, it’s the farthest Crowley and I would consider traveling from our old lives. And for a while, that’s something we need.”

“Makes sense. Must be working. Married life looks good on you.”

Aziraphale smiles. “Thank you, my dear,” he says, pouring her tea. “I have to admit, I am quite enjoying myself.”

“I’ll bet,” she mutters as the word enjoying brings a rosy glow to Aziraphale’s cheeks. Speaking of ... where’s Senor Sexy?”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes. He adds milk and sugar without having to be asked, then slides the finished product across the table. “To whom are you referring? The milk man? The post man? Your Uber driver?”

“You know who.” She lifts the tea to her lips, eyes twinkling through the steam rising from the surface. “Your man.”

“He’s not a man, you know. He’s a demon.”

“If you’re trying to make him sound any less sexy, you’re failing miserably, my dear.”

“Since you must know, he’s still asleep.”

“Mmm …” Tracy blows on her beverage, grinning into her cup “… that kind of evening? Or was it morning?”

“You’re incorrigible, do you know that?”

“And proud of it.”

“Good for you.”

“Tell me something.”

“That depends.” Aziraphale avoids Tracy’s eyes in favor of dressing his own cup.

“Your demon …” She leans in, lowering her voice in case Crowley isn’t a deep sleeper “… he sleeps in the nude, doesn’t he?”

Aziraphale fumbles his spoon. It falls on the saucer with a clink, flinging droplets of milk across the tablecloth. “Why in the world do you want to know!?”

“Because you’re not making with any of the juicier details, so I’m filling in the blanks with PG-13 stuff.”

Aziraphale narrows his eyes at his nosy guest. “And how is your husband, by the way?”

“Not here. That’s why we’re talking about yours.”

Aziraphale shakes his head. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. Crowley does not sleep in the nude.”

Tracy frowns at Aziraphale’s answer. “Of course he does,” she decides, followed by several loud sips. “I’ve been around the block a time or two, and a man like that definitely sleeps in the nude. You lucky dog.”

“If you think you know so much, why did you even ask!?”

“I wanted to see what you’d say. You seem to have a penchant for, shall we say, tiny untruths. As a sinner myself, I’m curious how often an angel can lie before they get struck by lightning as opposed to us mere mortals.”

Aziraphale’s brows pull together. “Have you ever been struck by lightning?”

“Once,” Tracy says, going in for another sip, “but I’m sure it was a misunderstanding.”

“Good morning, angel,” Crowley mumbles, shuffling into the room. “Lady Shadwell. How nice of you to stop by this morning.”

“Afternoon,” Aziraphale corrects.

“Hmph. Gotta be mornin’ somewhere,” Crowley says around a yawn.

“Well, well, speak of the Devil,” Tracy teases.

“Devil’s on holiday. The states, I think. Just me, I’m afraid. Got anything stronger than tea?” Crowley heads for the stove and its various saucepans, lifting the lids off the promising looking ones.

Aziraphale raises a white ceramic carafe sitting dead center of the table. “There’s coffee in the pot.”

Crowley peeks over. He raises his eyebrows, trying to better open his lids. When he catches sight of the carafe held aloft, he sighs. “Fan-bloody-tastic.” He putters over, grabbing the largest mug they own along the way.

“Rough night?” Tracy asks, playing her favorite game where Aziraphale and Crowley are concerned - Catching Aziraphale in a Lie Involving Sin.

“Not so much. Aziraphale is soft …” Crowley giggles “… squishy … and more flexible than he looks. First two goes went fine. I think it was round seven that did me in.”

Tracy snickers.

Crowley yawns, this time with the addition of a galumphing yawp.

Aziraphale’s nose dives back into his cup and stays there.

No, he didn’t try to stop the conversation before it got this far.

There’s no shutting these two up once they get started.

But Crowley manages to stop Tracy in her tracks.

“Shame on you, Aziraphale, keeping poor Crowley up all---.”

When Tracy gets her first glimpse of Crowley, her jaw drops to her chest.

Aziraphale sees why, and he knows he’s never going to hear the end of this one.

His husband, as always, has an exceptional sense of timing … and style.

Over the rim of his cup, which has become extremely interesting in the past few minutes, Aziraphale watches Tracy give his husband several once overs. He doesn’t intervene, letting Tracy ask the inevitable question herself.

“Uh …” She clears her throat. It doesn’t help “… what is that you’re wearing, dear?”

“What? This?” Crowley looks down his body as if he’s forgotten. Aziraphale hopes Tracy will. Probably not a chance without holy intervention. “It’s some shirt of Aziraphale’s from the 60s. I saw it in his closet and brought it with. You know, for going out. Thought it’d be a nice change from the usual.” He chuckles to himself, picking at the practically see-thru black mesh hanging from his body. “Not much to it, is there?”

“No, there isn’t.” Tracy’s voice cracks when Crowley shifts left and right, revealing the tiniest pair of briefs she’s ever seen on an adult human. And considering her prior profession, that’s saying a lot.

“Don’t think angel ever wore it. Didn’t let me see if he did …”

“You don’t say.” Tracy shoots Aziraphale a look.

Aziraphale, hellbent on climbing into his cup, finishes his tea.

“The 60s were a helluva decade,” Crowley grumbles and leaves it at that. He leans over to kiss his husband’s beet-red forehead (much to Tracy’s delight), then walks off with the carafe, foregoing the mug and drinking straight from it. Tracy watches him go, the loose-fitting shirt (which most likely clings to Aziraphale) swinging with every sway of hips, the selvage skimming the tops of his thighs right below his ass. She waits until Crowley slips back into the bedroom and shuts the door, then turns accusing eyes on her friend.

“You lied!”

Aziraphale tuts. “I did no such thing.”

“Did you not see what your husband was wearing?”

“Yes. Wearing,” Aziraphale says, cheeks burning since his mind chose that exact moment to imagine peeling that mesh shirt off his husband’s body and doing a host of unspeakable things to him as soon as Tracy leaves. “Ergo … not naked.”

[wildefiction]

Hunger: One

PAIRING: Jared x Reader

WORD COUNT: 4,558

CHAPTER(S): 1/?

SUMMARY: When reader isn't attending a Supernatural Convention, she's preparing for the next one. Staying busy is the only thing that keeps her sane. While it's difficult for some people to understand her motives, one person will show her that he knows exactly what she's going through. Will Jared be able to make the reader believe she deserves to be loved or is she too far gone already?

SERIES WARNINGS: While this first chapter has little in the way of warnings, future chapters may contain content difficult for some readers. Each chapter will be tagged appropriately but may contain topics such as: Mental health, severe depression, trust-issues, and abnormal psychology along with eventual forms of healing and discussions centered around relationships and support systems. Please heed the warnings for each individual chapter.

A/N: This is the first chapter of what I’m guessing will be a fairly long series. Originally I was going to try to tie this up in a neat little one-shot, but it’s just not going to happen. This was completed for @saxxxology‘s Plus Size Reader Challenge

“It’s called Alexithymia.” “Yeah, I don’t know - I’m just glad I’m not actually a sociopath.” “What? No I--fuck!” “Fuck these fucking pants!” The sleek metal phone slipped from its precarious position against your shoulder and fell to the floor with an ominous clatter. Closing your eyes in frustration, you filled your lungs with several deep breaths - in through your nose, out through your mouth. 

In-out, in...out. 

Rolling sideways from the mattress onto the floor and reaching a cautious hand towards the new device, you prayed to whatever God would listen that the screen was still intact. Opening one eye a fraction of an inch, a deep sigh of relief flooded your body as the smooth, black screen flashed once; the tinny voice echoing from the speakers prattling on as if nothing had gone awry. 

Standing from the walnut floorboards, you turned to face the floor length mirror. While it had taken almost a decade, the wide, curving hips reflected in the glass had become the favorite part of your body. Only problem was, finding jeans that fit well was nearly impossible. “I need new pants.” Whining into the receiver, the woman on the other end of the phone simply snorted in amusement. 

“Well if you’d spend more than twenty-dollars on your clothes, you’d have a helluva lot easier time finding ones that you liked.” “I’ve offered to take you shopping how many times?” Your best friend had a point. Focusing again on the phone call, you relented - one outfit couldn’t possibly cost that much, could it?

Two hours later, your arms rested atop a cool wooden counter; a scowl painted across your features while numbly holding out a metallic blue credit card. The woman behind the desk smiled brightly, faltering a bit when she had to wrestle the card from your grasp. Walking from the store with what felt like an entirely too-small-bag-for-the-amount-of-money-you-spent outfit, you joked about what else you could’ve done with that money. 

Shaking her head in exasperation, your friend tried again to argue her point. “These clothes will last you a long time - the photo ops you so voluntarily throw your money at last all of - what? Ten seconds?!” Pushing one hand through the hair covering your eyes, you tried again to explain why you paid large sums of money for those ten-second interactions. Violet’s expression let you know that she still didn’t understand. Funny thing was, she’d been the one to introduce you to Supernatural in the first place. “Well this weekend you’ll be at the boys’ beck and call, so I think you spending the money here is worth it. Don’t they give you a free photo op for working anyhow? While far from glamorous, you’d been thrilled when the company hosting the event had accepted you as a volunteer. Rolling your eyes, you assured her (and, okay, yourself) that you likely wouldn’t even see any of the cast. Only seasoned help got to be handlers. 

The rest of the week flew by, and Thursday afternoon found you trying (unsuccessfully) to clear the sting of sweat from your eyes while simultaneously carrying an arm full of poles and light posts. They’d put you on stage duty for the first day. Afterwards, you were pretty sure if you ever saw another velvet-backed chair again, it would be too soon. Two-thousand of them sat in neat rows filling the main theater room. “Alright [Y/F/N], could you please take these and label the seats?” Suddenly conscious of the slight tick in your right eye, you nodded silently - sliding the heavy rolls of numbered stickers over your wrists before walking to the end of the front row to begin your new assignment. 

You don’t recall falling into bed Thursday night. The melodic voices of Rob and the boys from Louden Swain cut through your dreamless sleep far too early Friday morning. “Is it cool if I come over…” 

Excitement warred with irritability while dressing in the new jeans you'd purchased the day before. The dark denim clung to your hips, the waistband taut once the button was fastened. “Woah! What. Is. This?!” Turning to the left and then the right, your mouth fell open in a soft “oh” - there was no gap! You'd never been able to find pants that fit both your hips and waist simultaneously. It was a miracle. Still - you weren't about to complain. Pulling the basic black volunteer tank top over your head, you slipped on the trusty pair of Chucks that had followed you to every convention over the last decade. Some people cherished a hat or a cozy flannel, for you - these shoes filled that spot.

“WHAT!?!” “What do you mean she’s not here today? How..what am I supposed to do?!” You’d been about to duck behind the heavy black drapes dressing the stage to report for your morning assignments when a familiar voice made you stop short. Derek, a fifty-something event planner was pacing just the other side of the divide, his simple brown loafers kicking up small torrents of dust with his agitation. Startled as the man threw open the curtains and stomped across the stage, you decided it was probably a better bet to find someone else to talk to about how you could help for the day. Turning, you were nearly through the opening and had started to descend the rickety metal staircase leading to the volunteer break-room when a heavy hand landed on your shoulder. 

“ ‘Scuse me. You’re working here...yes?” Unexpected tension lanced through your body at the sudden contact and some part of you froze. As if he could feel it, Derek removed his hand rather quickly, absentmindedly shoving his ring-adorned fingers into the pocket of his slacks; the other hand busily scrolling through his phone; artificial light illuminating his tired, pale blue eyes. In your silent contemplation of the man, you’d failed to answer his question. “Ms…[Y/L/N] - right?” “Have you been assigned yet today?” With a slow shake of your head, his hand shot out of his pocket as he threw an arm around your shoulders - laughing heartily at something you’d missed. The mans face was jovial, faint creases of forehead wrinkles and crows’ feet framing his watery irises allowed you focus on what he was saying, rather than the pressure of his proximity. 

“You’re savin’ mah bacon Miss [Y/L/N] - I tell ya what.” 

The shrill screaming of his phone was sudden and briefly you felt bad for Derek. Raising the device to his ear, his body language calmed significantly; assuring the person on the other end that he’d found a replacement. A replacement for who, you still didn't know. Not that it was really any of your business. Nodding once, Derek turned back to you, sliding the small device into the clip on his belt. 

Fishing into the pinstriped fabric of his pocket, he pulled a cluster of keys out. “Okay, take my car to this address” -- procuring a pen from his jacket, the man scribbled some notes onto a slip of paper; the handwriting sharp and messy -- “Have you got a phone?” Tentatively reaching into your back pocket, you slipped the oversized Samsung into your fingers. “Good! When you get there, call this number..” --more scribbling-- and bring everyone here.” “Let me know when you’re back.” Glancing at the unfamiliar handwriting, you squinted, trying to make out the address. 

“Ms. [Y/L/N]..?” The impatient snapping of his fingers focused your attention on the man before you. “Please hurry - lots to do...lots to do!” With that he turned on his heel and hurried back through the curtained wall.

Although it was still well before noon, the parking lot held hundreds of vehicles, including two beautifully restored impalas. Sunlight glinted across the deep onyx paint as you walked by. The only clue to what car you searched for was a familiar gold emblem embossed on the black key fob clutched in your hands. Anxiety prickled along the base of your neck. You should've asked where Derek had parked. As your mind filled with every possible worse-case scenario, continually jamming your thumb to the unlock button prevailed when a flash of golden light several cars down caught your eye.

The engine roared to life with the press of the ignition, the lumbering bear of a Tahoe easing from it's reserved parking space as you wondered why anyone needed this large of a vehicle. Twenty minutes later, the truck settled into a quiet hum in front of a downtown hotel. Derek hadn't bothered to write a name on the paper he’d hastily scribbled upon, and you really had no idea who you were supposed to be collecting. 

Craning your neck to see through the windshield, the immense hotel tower rose impossibly high before you; the steady ticking of scarlett hazard lights keeping time with the ringing as you waited for someone to answer.

The tall, revolving glass door caught your attention, several people clambering into the contraption at once made you smile; a generic voicemail message kicking on after the fourth ring. The group spilled from the door in a mess of laughter and a tangle of bodies. 

Why you felt the need to duck behind the steering wheel upon recognizing them, you'll never know. 

Rob, Rich, Briana, Kim and Billy were still laughing amongst themselves. Inside, you were happy the windows were tinted, as you were fairly certain you sat there with your mouth hanging open while you watched the group of friends wander over to talk to a street performer. Eyes darting to the clock on the dash, you quickly realized it'd been nearly an hour since Derek had sent you on this assignment. 

Without looking away from the group, you tried the number again. The phone clicked and a cheerful voice answered with a giggly hello. Immediately you refocused on the task at hand, “Uh, hi. I think I'm supposed to be picking you up?” The mean bitch in your head snickered at how uncool you sounded. 

“Scuse me, what was that?” A blush crept across your cheeks when you realized who you were talking to. Looking from your lap to the window, Rob stood halfway between his group of friends and where you were. Twisting and looking back over his shoulder, he must’ve put two and two together because he waved before beckoning the others to follow. 

You weren’t prepared for this - you’d volunteered with the direct understanding that behind-the-scenes was where volunteers stayed. Occasionally one would bring the cast bottles of water or coffee, but picking them up at their hotel? Didn’t they have drivers for that? Your thoughts were cut short as three doors opened almost simultaneously and bodies began to climb in around you. 

That had been the start to a whirlwind weekend. The Creation staff kept you on your toes constantly, although somehow Derek continued assigning tasks more cast-centered than had been expected. It started with picking up the Friday guests, sure - but since then you’d done everything from coffee runs to walking the ladies’ to the bathroom and photo-op room, to helping with the sound check for the concert currently taking place on stage. 

Now in the green room, crouched in front of the mini-fridge, your mind wandered while removing water bottles from their thick plastic casing, stocking the shelves for the guests. 

A faint beeping and the murmur of voices caught your attention as the door opened across from you. Osric, Clif, Jensen and Jared sauntered in, lost in their own conversation. A familiar prickling sensation that often assaulted you in new situations made your shoulders tense. Luckily, the repeated exposure to the guests this weekend had given you plenty of practice to collect your emotions quickly; stuffing them into the deepest recesses of your mind. 

A few breaths later, you stood from the position on the floor, a large smile plastered across your features as you approached the small group. 

“Hey guys, anyone need a drink?” Osric smiled widely and accepted one of the chilled bottles. The others followed suit, Jared’s eyebrows furrowing slightly in concern as his fingers closed over yours. 

“Hey, thanks…” “What’s your name?” Your eyes darted between his brilliant hazel irises and the long fingers wrapped around the drink; beads of condensation wetting your skin as his hand rested on yours. 

Hurriedly pulling away, you scrubbed a palm against the denim of your jeans before extending it and introducing yourself. 

“Hey, I’m [Y/F/N].” The others said their hellos as well, your gaze shifting between them while they chatted animatedly for a few moments. Occupied as you were, you failed to notice that Jared didn’t take his eyes off of you for even a moment. 

She was nervous. Not that he wasn’t used to the look. But this one was different, Jared decided. He recognized the determination to hide her anxiety as something he’d gone through as well. He could see she was excited to meet them, and yet, she held back; likely protecting a small part of who she really was as she presented the version of herself she wanted everyone to see. While genuinely happy to interact with all of his fans, Jared felt intrigued by [Y/F/N]. He wanted to know more about her. About the discomfort she tried her best to disguise as nerves. Something was off. 

Crossing her arms over her chest while making small talk with the others, Jared noticed how proficient she was at distributing her attention to each of them equally, pausing for only a moment before looking to the next person. 

Releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, Jared turned his attention to the door, having opened for a second time; watching as Rich strode in, beckoning to Jensen. 

“C’mon man, your public awaits.” He bowed dramatically, waffling his hand in the space before him. Jensen huffed, shaking his head as he clasped Rich’s shoulder, following him from the room. [Y/F/N] trailed along behind them and Jared allowed himself to take a longer look at the woman. The tank top she wore clung to her body, the curve of her full breasts and thick waist led his eyes to her hips. 

“Damn.” 

The word of admiration was muttered under his breath, but as he focused on her face again, the pink in her cheeks made it clear she’d heard him. 

“You coming Jared?” She’d stopped, holding the door open for him. Nodding, he quickened his stride and disappeared into the darkened hallway as he headed for the holding area backstage.

If Saturday had been busy, Sunday was borderline chaotic. 

Attendance surged for the final day of the convention. Awake earlier, you were due to report in by 6:30 even though the first panel wasn’t due to begin until noon.

Shuffling through the abandoned corridors of the hotel, you could only hope there’d be caffeine waiting at the check-in station. 

“Good morning Ms. [Y/L/N].” Blinking several times in rapid succession, you focused on Derek as he sat behind the assignment table. The quiet murmur of his voice as he looked over the sheaf of papers laid out before him only partially registered in your mind. 

The concert the night before had been amazing, and you’d been up until the early hours of the morning from the level of energy you’d absorbed. It didn’t help that a certain phrase kept replaying in your mind. You’d definitely heard Jared last night and you liked to imagine he’d been talking about you. The thought brought a smile to your face, regardless of how absurd the notion was. While pretty sure he likely had some gorgeous girlfriend waiting for him back home, you were content with the small amount of time you did get to spend around Jared. Silent pining was more your style anyhow. 

“...order.” “Ms. [Y/L/N]?” Snapping out of your daydream, you worked harder to listen to the man in front of you. 

“I’m sorry...what was that?” The middle-aged man smiled kindly. 

“I know it’s early Ms. [Y/L/N], but we really need you to be completely present at these briefings. Otherwise, the chaos about to descend on this place will be ten-times worse.” Shifting oversized reading glasses from where they’d fallen down the bridge of his nose, the man cleared his throat, consulting the Sunday schedule. Finished with his admonishment, Derek held a slip of paper out to you. 

“As I was saying, please grab the coffee order for the cast. It’ll be ready precisely at 9:50. That should give you enough time to get back upstairs so everyone can get their daily dose of caffeine.” “Until then, make sure the green room has plenty of breakfast items and if the cast need anything, it’s on you to make them happy.” 

Derek’s last sentence drew your attention from the list you’d been perusing. Outwardly, you nodded so he’d know you were paying attention, even though you still struggled with the personal Hell that came with sleep deprivation.

Later that morning, as you stood in line at the bustling Starbucks just outside the hotel, your mind once again turned to thoughts of the cast. Although you were tired, you wouldn’t change these experiences for the world. 

As silly as it seemed, these conventions had gone a long way to helping prevent you from falling into your depression. In-between event weekends you often busied yourself with planning the next one and it got you through each day. It was refreshing to see mental health being addressed more by the media. When you’d been diagnosed several years prior, only your doctor had believed it was a real thing. 

Walking up to the waist-high counter and pulling the folded paper from your back pocket, you began to list the order scribbled upon it. At one point, squinting your eyes in an attempt to read Derek’s handwriting you gave up and handed the barista the list, hoping she’d be able to help discern it. 

“Maybe I can help?” Clutching the paper, you raised your eyes to the woman in front of you. She stilled as a hand reached over your shoulder and gently took the list from your grasp. Breathing deep, you turned to find Jared standing behind you, long strands of auburn hair falling across his face while he perused the handwriting. 

Shifting to stand next to Jared’s tall frame, you took a moment to point at the line you were having trouble with. His body was like a heater, the intoxicating scent of his cologne made all the more apparent by the warmth of his skin. 

Jared brought the paper closer to his face, squinting at a particular cluster of letters. 

“I..think that says...skinny?” Glancing at the rest of the scribbled letters, he was able to make out the order for a non-fat soy latte. “Huh, I didn’t know Mark was here today.” Shrugging, his eyes flicked up to yours; an easy smile replacing the serious expression he’d worn moments before. “Did you get everything okay?” Nodding, the young woman behind the register added up the total while you handed her your credit card. 

Moving to the end of the counter to await the several drinks, you turned to the man behind you. “My hero.” The smirk on your face was genuine, even if your tone erred on the side of sarcasm. 

“Hey, no problem [Y/F/N].” God, the way he said your name… Clearing your throat as you settled against the far wall, you did your best to continue the conversation.  

“Why are you up so early?” “Figured you’d be sleeping while you could.” Jared shrugged his massive shoulders before answering.

 “Went for a run. Couldn’t sleep.” You wanted to ask why. You wanted to ask a lot of things, but instead you kept to yourself. He likely had his reasons, and you’d be willing to bet - if he was anything like you, that he wasn’t keen on sharing the details of his life with a relative stranger. Nodding in understanding, you turned back to the counter, gathering the three drink trays and rearranging the cups so each carrier held the same size. Stacking the grandes atop the venti order, you slid the coffees into one hand, grabbing the third tray with your free arm. 

“I can carry one if you want..” Jared was at your side again, talking to you as if he wasn’t a gorgeous, successful actor with his own security detail. Speaking of which, where was Clif? 

“Uh, nah..I’m okay.” Scoffing, the man saw right through your feeble attempt to decline. Removing the top tray from where it rested under your chin and taking the second one as well, he simply smiled. “Lead the way [Y/F/N].” 

There was something about her that occupied Jared’s thoughts. She was strong, sure of herself (or so it seemed) and gracious. He wanted to know more. “So, [Y/F/N] where are you from?” 

The chill bite of a fall day in the Pacific Northwest swirled around your body when the two of you stepped from the relatively warm coffee shop. Breath fogging in the early morning air, the small-talk you made with Jared as you crossed the street to the hotel gave you a small look inside the finer points of Austin, his hobbies and the show. Back in the green room, you passed out drinks to their respective owners, everyone murmuring their appreciation to you for your efforts. Pulling the phone from your back pocket and realizing it was nearly time for the Sunday morning gold panel, you ushered Jared and Jensen out the door as politely as you could. 

Grabbing two mics from the table set-up behind the stage curtains, you handed one to each of the boys and turned to leave. Jared’s hand on your shoulder made you freeze momentarily, more out of habit than anything. Apparently it didn’t matter who it was, the discomfort of being touched still prevailed.

“Thanks for the chat [Y/F/N], we’ll talk more later?” Searching his face for any hint of what was going through his mind, you nodded numbly. A wide smile spread across his face as he squeezed your shoulder before turning and taking the stairs two at a time. Wild cheers assaulted your ears as the gold members screamed for their first panel of the day. 

The voices of Rob and Rich joking with Jensen buzzed in Jared’s ear, but his thoughts were still on [Y/F/N]. She’d flinched when he had touched her shoulder. Whatever made her react that way, he hoped it was something she’d be willing to talk to him about. For the hundreds of people who thanked him on a daily basis for noticing their struggles and standing in solidarity with them, he knew there were many others who couldn’t bring themselves to share.

Before you realized it, the afternoon autograph sessions were scheduled to start. Walking through the main theater hall, your most recent task was simple enough: Provide each of the guests with a handful of colorful sharpies at their table. The headphones connected to the phone in your pocket piped Swain music into your ears and you danced happily while completing the mundane task. You’d do this job full-time if you could. 

“Oh, there you are!” Turning abruptly, you pulled the cords from your ears, effectively silencing the indie rock as Derek strode up to you. 

“Ms. [Y/L/N], did you receive my text message? You’re wanted in Adam’s office as soon as possible!” His blue eyes searched yours frantically, even while you became acutely aware of your quickening heartbeat. 

“Oh, uhm..do you know why?” The man shook his head as he hurried away, staring intently at the clipboard clutched in his hands. A million scenarios chased themselves through your mind; the least of which involved the numerous bottles of tums you were sure Derek consumed regularly. Walking through the side doors and turning down the long hallway where the convention offices were set up, you busied yourself with the pattern beneath your feet. There were fifty-two blue diamonds set into the grey carpet between the main theater and Adam’s office. After several deep breaths, you squared your shoulders and rose your fist to knock on the oak door. The sound of a chair tracking across the floor echoed from behind the barrier and when the door opened, you were surprised to see the man still sitting. 

“Ah, Ms. [Y/L/N], do come in.” Following him inside, you paused to close the door at Adam’s insistence. 

“Ms. [Y/L/N], it appears we need to have a chat.” Shifting uneasily just inside the door, you tried to still the worried thoughts still cavorting in your subconscious. 

“Is something wrong sir?” Adam barked out a laugh and you were disappointed when you jumped at his tone. 

“Quite, the opposite actually.” The man still sat in the office chair, his head thrown back as it swirled in lazy circles. “We’ve had a request to add you to our permanent staff.” He said it as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Furrowing your brows, you tried to think of a reason why, or, for that matter who’d sent such a request. Sure, you had thought about talking to Adam about the possibility, but you hadn’t made any solid plans to do so. 

“Can I ask by who?” Maybe Derek? I mean, he’s really the only staff member I’ve interacted with on a regular basis this weekend. Stephanie perhaps? Adam chuckled to himself and shook his head, his eyes bright. 

“Mr. Padalecki has asked for you personally.” Of all the people you thought might’ve suggested it, Jared certainly hadn’t even come close to making the list. You were quiet as you absorbed the information. Looking up at Adam as his chair lazily swayed behind the card-table turned makeshift desk, you cleared your throat. 

“Did he...did he say...why?” The little conversation you’d had with Jared this weekend had been pleasant enough, but you couldn’t think of a single reason why he’d make such a request. 

“We discussed it.” “Suffice it to say he is impressed with your dedication to the job.” “This opportunity doesn’t present itself often Ms. [Y/F/N], strictly because exactly zero personal requests have occurred. Like, ever. I’ve been doing this a long, long time...and this is a first.” “Usually we staff the more experienced volunteers as handlers, it just so happened that our senior team member bowed out with the flu this weekend and you were the first person Derek saw upon finding out.” “Simply a ‘right place at the right time’ kind of scenario.” “Jared came to me earlier today after his gold panel and asked about you.” Shrugging, the black suit jacket he’d pulled on over his�� grey t-shirt bunched at the seams. “That’s all I know.”  “Think about it Ms. [Y/L/N].” Nodding slowly, you turned, grabbing the overly shiny brass door handle to let yourself out. 

“Oh, and [Y/F/N]?” Looking back over your shoulder at Adam as he started gathering papers together, you paused; “Jared’s about to start his autographing sessions, I suggest you make haste.” 

CHAPTER TWO

TAGS: @jaredsunflowergoddess @arses21434 @wings-of-a-raven @jamielea81

[smokeybrand]

Harley Quinn and the Miscalculation

Harley Quinn: Birds of Prey is bombing in theaters and what i was apprehensive about, is coming to pass. All of this rara, GRRRL-power, superficial, laughably toxic, feminism saturates this picture. And that’s fine. A little misandry never hurt anyone, especially with as much unapologetic misogyny that is rife within Hollywood. Still, there is a limit to and, while i didn’t mind the whole emancipation equal initialization angle this movie was going for, i can see why it would turn off so many others. We’re on the back end of the MeToo movement now and, in a world where Amber Heard has been exposed for the violent abuser that she truly is, the climate is a little different from when this flick was greenlit. It’s wild watching a marketing strategy trying so goddamn hard to alienate half their audience. Seriously, that sh*t was box office suicide but its not the reason why BoP failed. The media wants to blame sexist men for not supporting an all-women production but that’s not realistic. The demo breakdown for those who went to see BOP skewed heavily male. No, there are several reasons why and i kind of want to go over them here.

Issue 1: Feminist Marketing

The biggest issue this movie had was the way it was marketed. Besides the gung-ho drive in an attempt to appeal to that ludicrously vocal minority of third-wave feminists that don’t support sh*t outside of their own little echo chamber causes, it appears the WB did everything in their power to shoo away and semblance of testosterone. I noted this early, but that sh*t blew up in their face immediately. No one want to sit around and be preached at or two hours. I endued that sh*t because i enjoy comics and Margot’s Harleen is pretty legit but, goddamn! In a world of Nice Guys and Neckbeards, going so hard at that misandrist angle was a goddamn mistake. That, and the misleading push of Harley Quinn. This is not a birds of prey film and never should have been promoted as such. I could tell this was a Harley Quinn film immediately, but Normies sure didn’t. I imagine they wanted more Harley but saw the Birds top billed and decided it wasn’t worth the trip.

Fix: Better Marketing

To just say “Better Marketing” is kind of glib, but bear with me. There’s a lot to this. First thing first, that title should have never got approved. You want to lead with Harley, you lead with Harley. Hilariously, someone at WB thought so, too, and they changed the name. Personally, out the gate, i would have named this thing “Harley Quinn: Birds of Prey.” from the start, you set the expectation that this is a Harley Quinn movie AND assert that the BoP will have some sort of presence. The movie, itself, can still be exactly what it is, but that title change alters the entire expectation of that whole experience. Doing that also gives you an opportunity to promote this thing in a more balanced manner. Maybe don’t attack all the dudes that might want to see your flick with bullsh*t politics. I rather liked the idea of an all-girl gangster flick. It worked super well for Widows. If executed properly, you can even keep that whole Tarantino-esque vibe. But that might conflict with the second issue...

Issue 2: Hard R Rating

Everyone wants to be Deadpool but no one can be Deadpool. Look, i love the Hard R in my capeflicks. The aforementioned Deadpool was excellent and i absolutely love what Philips and Phoenix brought in Joker, but if you want to see how to do a proper R rated superhero film, look no further than Logan. Holy sh*t, that movie was good. and violent. and moving. I cried at the end of that thing. Shed me a man-tear, for sure. The thing about all of these films? That R was earned. You want to go Tarantino? You go full Tarantino. Bop did not commit like that. This motherf*cker was a “hard PG-13″. Seriously, the violence in this thing was akin to the violence in The Wolverine, a PG-13 flick. Why did they need that Hard R? Just to keep pace with the other Hard R flicks? See, that alienates your best bet at a profit.

Fix: go for that “Hard PG-13″

You want kids to see this thing, specifically young girls. Girls LOVE Harley, as they should. She’s become one helluva character. The growth shown in her comic persona is to be celebrated and this movie kind of touches upon that. 14-year-olds can’t get into your unnecessarily R rated film. You want those 14 and 15-year-olds to see your movie multiple times, and this thing had the potential for just that. Instead, they went too hard for that Hard R and it ruined a massive source of revenue. Besides, you already have a mature Harley show airing on that DCEU streaming whatever. The adults can check that one out, especially since it’s f*cking dope.

Issue 3: Character Interpretation

Harley Quinn has a very specific, very Snyder-esque design. You can’t shake that. Quinn is gonna Quinn. How the f*ck did the rest of these characters land on their respective situations? Hell, Cassanda Cain is “in name only” and that sucks! Cass is one of the dopest Bat-Kids in the fam and she’s relegated to that? Really? You barely even hint at Montoya’s sexuality, which is fine because it doesn’t define her, but to push this flick as LGBTQ, or whatever, without acknowledging the biggest L in the film seems disingenuous to me. And Huntress? Oh, my darling Huntress. You were the best thing about this movie and they didn’t even let you be IN the goddamn movie. Look, I’m all for creativity and letting creatures create but come on. At some point, you gotta give a little back to the fans, not just slap them in the face with such mediocre adaptions.

Fix: Better Characterization

Out the box, you should have NEVER adapted my girl Cass the way you did. Everything about this character is bogus. Where is my socially inept, traumatically mute, bad-ass human weapon? You give me a potty-mouth pick-pocket instead? For real? Nah. A much better character for this would have been Bluebird. How is Harper Row not perfect for this part? Considering her origin, she could start off as Harley’s protege and become better, actually become Blurebird and join the Birds later on down the line. How is that not a thing? And Montoya? Aside from a lack of screen time, maybe tie her into the plot a little better. Aside from a few throwaway line, what do we really know about her? Canary is fine, they did more than enough to give her character legs, but all of the Birds should have gotten as much time to develop. Speaking of time, my darling Huntress should have had WAY more screentime. She was SO dope and it’s a crime you didn’t give Winstead enough time to play with this character because she was having very real fun with her.

These three problems crippled any opportunity this movie had at being great. I’m sure WB thought they had a hit on their hands, or that the name “Harley Quinn” could carry this flick on it’s own but really? After Wondy and Aquaman, hell, even Shazam to a certain extent, you’d think these cats would have learned something. Instead, they opted to go hard with the Snyder-isms and the Box Office reflects all of that. This should have never been a BoP films. Margot should have definitely went for Gotham City Sirens. Still, we got what we got. It’s not good, but it’s not that bad, either. If they would have done the above three things, it could have been great. Missed opportunity.

[momentofmemory]

fictober - day twenty-one

Prompt #21: “Change is annoyingly difficult.”

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe (Doctor Strange; Guardians of the Galaxy)

Rating: PG

Characters: Peter Quill, Stephen Strange, Gamora (mentioned)

Words: 1470

Author’s Note: set in the immediate aftermath of the battle at the avengers hq in avengers: endgame. 

>>A Gamora by Any Other

“Gamora!”

Quill stumbled through the battlefield, searching for any signs of green skin.

“Gamora?” He reached out and grabbed the wrist of the green alien he’d just spotted, but when the creature whirled around and he was met a pair of six inch mandibles instead of a thin-lipped smile, he knew he’d guessed wrong.

“Sorry, thought you were someone else.” He amended his search parameters to green skin and maroon hair, because apparently a lot of aliens matched the first part. The one in front of him glared, and he cleared his throat.

“Love what you’re doing with your look, though.” He gestured vaguely at his own face. “Very intense. Jaw forward. Bet the chicks dig you.”

The larger creature growled something Quill didn’t entirely understand, but was probably not very polite, and stomped away. Quill wondered if maybe he should try looking for Gamora’s really pointy swords instead. They had to be at least somewhat unique, right?

He sighed, looking around at all the massive piles of ashes. This was so not how he wanted to spend his evening.

He cupped his hands over his mouth, ready to try again.

“Gamor—”

“She’s gone.”

“Jesus—” Quill spun on one foot, nearly losing his balance in the process, and found the weird wizard guy from Titan staring at him. “Oh. You.”

“Doctor Strange,” the man said, giving him a withering look. “And I’ll say it only once more: Gamora’s gone.”

He spun his hands in an arc, two orange disks appearing in front of him, and the many piles of dust in the area started to merge.

“Jeez, I forgot your name, not what you said two seconds ago,” Quill said, already put up with this guy’s attitude. “So when you say gone, do you mean like to the bathroom? My ship? Some other ship?”

“Possibly.” Strange shrugged. “Assuming she survived the snap.”

“What does that have to do with anything? The beard guy just took out Thanos’s people!”

Another shrug, and a portal opened and dumped the debris Strange had collected into a dark abyss before closing. “I don’t know if he knew she wasn’t one of them.”

“What—of course she wasn’t!”

Doctor Strange brushed by Quill, apparently unimpressed by his certainty. “If that makes you feel better. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

“Whoa, hey, come back here!” Quill’s hand grabbed at the wizard’s cape, but it snapped away on its own accord before he could get ahold of it.

There must have been something in his tone of voice, however, because Strange stopped anyway.

“You’ve got the weird seeing into the future thing, right?” Quill cast his hands to either side of him, the answer obvious. “Can’t you just like, check where she is for me?”

Strange stared at him with an intensity that made him uneasy. “You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

Something that could have passed as pity in another man’s eyes flickered across Strange’s face, and then the blank expression returned. “The Gamora you knew never returned from Vormir.”

“See, now I know you’re not so good at this, ‘cause saw her like an hour ago and I’m pretty sure she was fine. Super fine, actually. Helluva kick.” Quill gestured downwards. “My balls still hurt a little.”

Strange rolled his eyes. “That was a Gamora, yes. But a Gamora brought from a different timeline than the one we’re in now. The one you knew is still dead.” He sighed. “For what it’s worth, Peter, I’m sorry.”

Strange turned, his cape swirling behind him, and started walking away to resume his role in cleaning up the battlefield. Several other orange disks glowed in the distance, as other sorcerers joined in the efforts, leaving Quill to stare blankly at the ground as he tried to wrap his head around what Strange had said.

Just a Gamora?

“Hey, wait!”

Peter scrambled after the wizard, nearly slipping on one of the larger piles of ash. “You’re saying the woman I saw—that wasn’t Gamora?”

“Did you listen to anything I said? Yes, it was Gamora. Just the one you met in 2014.” Strange swept the ash out from under Peter’s feet, nearly face planting the Terran in the process.

“So Gamora—the Gamora I fell in love with—she’s just, what? Gone?”

“On the contrary. She’s exactly the same as the Gamora you first met, so I suppose if you’re one of those love at first sight types of people you might still be in love with her.” Strange started flicking ash out of the sky. “Whether you’re the still Quill she could fall in love with is an entirely different story.”

“Are you always this cryptic?”

Maddeningly, Strange just chuckled. “An unfortunate side effect of being Sorcerer Supreme, I suppose.”

Pretentious and an asshole.

“Look, you’ve had five years to mature since you first met the original Gamora,” he said. “Though the idea of you being even less mature than you are now is truly horrifying.”

Strange dropped his dust collection through another portal, this time one that looked like it led to some kind of arctic landscape. “She, however, has lost all of that growth. Who can say if she’;l still find you attractive.”                             

Peter balled his hands into fists. “So how do I fix it?”

“You can’t. This was the only timeline I could influence to get the best outcome for the most people. You’ll learn to adapt.” Dr. Strange rose several feet in the air to get a better view of the broken dam, forcing Peter to look up. “Change is annoyingly difficult, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“Annoyingly—I loved her, you dick!” Peter’s hand twitched towards his blaster. “I lost—we were finally in a good place, man, and now she’s gone and you’re calling it annoying?”

“I meant no particular disrespect. The snap is reversed, but we shouldn’t expect the universe to continue with no fallout from such a cataclysmic event.” Strange started lifting the wooden structure of the dam back into place, the water from the original blast long since redirected. “For example, you asked me to look into the future, and that is an act I can no longer perform. The time stone is gone, and without the need for its protection, the very reason for my position.”

Peter couldn’t believe this guy. “You’re really going to compare you losing your job to my girlfriend losing her life?”

Doctor Strange’s hands finally stopped moving, the orange glow dying from the tips of his shaking fingers. He sighed and lowered himself back down to Peter’s level. “No. No, I suppose not.”

Peter sighed and lowered himself to the ground, legs crossed beneath him and head in his hands. “Come on, man. Just throw me a bone. I know I messed up on Titan, but you can’t hold it against me forever, right?”

Strange looked confused for a second, but then waved his hand dismissively. “That was only one of the many ways our attack against Thanos could’ve gone. You might have a hard time getting the rest of your crew to agree with that, but I found it largely inconsequential.”

Peter wasn’t sure if knowing his own actions were irrelevant was a blessing or an insult, but he swallowed down his pride this time. “But—Gamora. If it was the her from before, is there any chance she still survived?”

Strange’s lips pursed. “You’re still willing to try to find her? Even if she’s reverted back to the state of your first meeting?”

“Absolutely. Yes.” Peter tilts his head in thought. “Come to think of it, she hit me in the balls that time, too.”

“Every time I think you might be remotely intelligent, you just have to add one more thing.”

“I resemble that!”

“Yes, that’s unfortunately the problem,” Strange said. “But, if you must know…”

Strange trailed off, then jerked his hands in a complicated motion Peter couldn’t follow. Water began flowing out of the levee, and after a few moments of just watching the river return to its normal levels, Strange spoke again.

“The stones seem to react unusually intuitively. If you think she was still worth saving, the stones might have come to the same conclusion, too.”

Peter nodded slowly, digesting the man’s words. “How will I find her, if she’s still alive?”

“Where would the Gamora you knew have gone?”

A few planets occurred to Peter almost instantly, and he’d be willing to bet Nebula would have quite a few ideas, too.

Strange must have seen something in his face, because the wizard gave him a rare smile. “Then act on that knowledge.”

Quill nodded enthusiastically, leaping to his feet, then yelped when the action pulled at his more tender parts.

Strange rolled his eyes.

“…And maybe get into the habit of wearing a cup.”

[stillheresanctuary]

~ As quick as it was spotted, it was gone. A black blur left a package, actually seemingly gently placed down. The box was open, and something shuffled inside it, hissing. When looked at, it was a small lamia, a Cross variety, only about seven inches from the top of his skull to the end of his tail. He was scared, malnourished, and any advance towards him led to him cowering, covering his stomach/untouchable area and hissing, "Black wolf protected. Nnno hurt.." ~

“Oh my…”

Cell hesitated in the doorway, dark eyes saddened as they looked down at the tiny shaking bitty, then very slowly lowered down to the ground, first to their knees, then folding down onto their stomach until they were just barely able to peek over the edge of the box at the shivering lamia. They didn’t dare get any closer, not wanting to scare the little one any further, but they didn’t want to leave him alone…

“The hell’re you- Oh.”

Perched on the windowsill closest to the door, Ed leaned around the doorjamb, peering out at the battered box that Cell was hunkered down beside. He frowned, looking between the human and the box, then huffed before shortcutting, appearing atop Cell’s head so he could get a better look into the box. A low whistle escaped his teeth, and he moved to sit down, booted feet dangling in Cell’s face.

“Well. Cross lamia. You’re a helluva rarity. Ain’t ever seen one’a you in person.”

Cell lightly blew out a breath, causing the Edgy to swing his legs up a moment to avoid the tickling feeling. He gave them a faintly irritated look, getting a small smile in return, before refocusing on the lamia.

“You got a name?”

Silence for a long moment, then a mumble. Ed leaned forward slightly, removing a hand from his pocket to cup around his non-existent ear.

“What was that? Can’t hear ya if y’mumble.”

“...bobbin.”

As he spoke, the little lamia ducked his head, wavering in place. Ed made a small noise in the back of his throat Cell recognized from the times they’d seen him witness Sunny or Al do something extraordinarily cute, and they grinned as they imagined his cheekbones starting to flush with magic. Rough and tough Edgy had the BIGGEST soft spot for cute.

“Well. Nice t’meetchya, Bobbin. I’m Ed, this dork I’m sittin’ on is Cell. Y’wanna come inside? S’warmer, an’ I bet we can bother Bahadur into makin’ some hot chocolate.”

“...chocolate?”

Gottem. Ed smiled, nodding as he made a small gesture with his free hand, eyeligths flickering as he used his magic to slightly levitate the box so he could slowly turn it on its side, allowing the lamia to come out on his own. A shortcut, and the Edgy appeared in front of Cell’s face, blocking them from the lamia’s view and hiding the human’s brilliant smile.

“Yeah, good stuff with extra marshmallows in.”

He offered his hand, purposefully ignoring the faint green glow that was beginning to shine from the human’s magic aura, their Kind SOUL leaking out the edges from their joy. It took a couple moments, but Bobbin finally reached out, taking the offered hand.

“Chocolate.”

“All you can eat.”

Bobbin has been added to Residents.

Also, thank you @stars-with-citrus for helping me figure out a name for the Cross Lamia, I’ve got too many bitties running around without names and I don’t like not being able to name them since I can’t ask them what they like.

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book Two: Famine (Prompto x Reader) Chapter Eighteen

Amongst the shouting cultists, Prompto ran through them and headed to where the drop ship pieces were. Half of the ship smashed through the southern wall while the other half crashed a few yards from the same wall. Smaller pieces of metal were scattered around the fort from the immense explosion. He knew the lightning belonged to (Y/n) by how powerful the strike was.

"(Y/n)!" He shouted as he checked the debris for his lover. He received no response, but that didn't stop him from searching. Avoiding the flames, he checked under the pieces of metal thoroughly before moving on to the next half of the ship. Treading lightly, he avoided the large pieces of concrete that were in the ship due to where it crashed in the southern wall. 

While searching for Famine amongst the remains of the drop ship, a sudden chill shot down his spine as the temperature dropped all around him. Not even the flames erupting from the destroyed ship warmed him. Alongside the chill, he noticed the entire fort had gone silent. All the screaming and echoes of running footsteps were no more.

Prompto's brows knitted together in confusion as he jumped down from the debris and scanned the interior of the fort. He gasped when he saw all the cult members were encased in ice, resembling sculptures. He weaves through a few frozen cultists before stopping in his tracks when he heard a heavy sigh. "Dear Astrals, I think I went overboard with the ice..."

The blonde searched the sea of ice sculptures for the owner of the voice and found (Y/n) standing a few yards away, glancing around at the frozen men and women. He kicked into high-gear and ran to her. When he reached her, he nearly tackled her to the ground as he embraced her from behind. He heard her gasp as he buried his face into the crook of her neck. "Thank the Six..." He sighed, his warm breath grazing against her neck.

She wiggles around in his arms until she was facing him. "Are you okay? Ardyn threw you pretty hard."

"I'm fine," he reassures. "W-What about you? How'd you survive the explosion?"

"Oh, that was thanks to—"

"Moi," a feminine voice giggled. Prompto lifted his head and spotted Pestilence a few feet away. "Barriers are one of my specialties."

Suddenly, the door leading to the underground portion of the fort swung open. Gladio's and Ignis' eyes widen as they see all the frozen cultists. "What the hell...?" The shield muttered in bewilderment.

"(Y/n) may have put too much mana into her ice spell," Pestilence smiled at the two men.

"I've no idea how you can control a vast amount of mana," Famine sighed. "I'll leave the spells to you."

"So, uh..." Prompto glanced around at the frozen bodies. "What're we gonna do with them?"

"Just leave 'em," Gladio said. "They're lucky to still be alive."

"Wait..." Ignis called out to them. "Do you hear that?"

All eyes fell on the advisor. Pestilence blinked owlishly in confusion and tilted her head slightly. "What do you hear, Ignis?"

"A low growling," he replied, glancing around the fort. "It sounds rather familiar."

"This fort might hold more secrets than we know. Let's look around to see what else is hidden from plain sight," (Y/n) said. The others agreed and split into two groups—Prompto and Famine together with Gladio, Ignis, and Pestilence forming the other.

The gunslinger and the golden-haired Horseman searches the western and southern portions of Fort Vaullerey while Gladio, Ignis, and Pestilence checked the eastern and northern parts.

An hour passed as they checked every nook and cranny. While checking one of the walls, (Y/n) discovered a small indenture that blended in with the wall. She called Prompto over before pushing against the indenture and listened as a mechanism was triggered. Stone grinding against stone caught their attention as they saw the wall in front of them recede, revealing a hidden passage. The couple exchanged baffled expressions, admiring their discovery.

"What else is this place hiding?" Prompto murmured.

"I'll get the others," (Y/n) said before dashing off to find her sister and the two other men. When she did, she told them of her and Prompto's discovery and they all ran to where the hidden passage was. They entered the narrow space, following the dark path. Luckily, they had their flashlights to illuminate their surroundings.

"An elevator?" Pestilence asked as they reached the end of the hidden passageway.

"Wonder where it goes," Prompto pondered.

"Only one way to find out," Gladio said. "Hop aboard." He pushed open the gate and the five of them stepped onto the elevator. Once everyone was on, he closed the gate and pressed the button.

With a screech, the elevator shook side to side before descending. (Y/n) unconsciously stepped closer to Prompto and hugged his arm, snuggling into his side as the lift continued to shake as they delved deeper underground.

"This elevator is certainly carrying us to the depths of Eos. We might even see King Aeshema," Pestilence teased.

"Is Hell really just fire and brimstone?" Gladio questioned the snowy-haired Horseman.

"Far from it," she replies. "It's very..."

"Bland and ashy," Famine finishes her sister's sentence.

"Exactly. Gray and lifeless, even with all the souls of the damned floating around and wandering the corridors. At least King Aeshema has a decent palace. It adds some life to Hell, especially with how crazy of a decorator he is."

"What about the Inner Sanctum? What's that like?" Prompto asked.

"Besides the monsters, the Inner Sanctum is quite gorgeous. Thriving forests, beautiful beaches, a vast ocean, and magnificent waterfalls. The only structure you'll find in the entirety of the Inner Sanctum is the alcazar we call home," (Y/n) answered. "You'd have a field day with your camera."

Prompto glanced down at the floor of the elevator as he asked his next question. "What's the possibility of me seeing your home, (Y/n)?"

Famine's eyes widen a fraction, replaying his words in her head to make sure she hadn't misheard him. "You... want to visit the Inner Sanctum?"

The blonde nodded with a small smile. "Well, yeah. I've been curious about it ever since you mentioned it after the attack on Altissia. And now that I've got somewhat of an image of what it looks like, I really wanna see it for myself."

(Y/n)'s mouth opened and closed a few times before she was able to answer him. "I-I don't know, Prom. A human's never stepped foot in the Inner Sanctum. Who knows what will happen to your body, physically and mentally."

Prompto's smile morphed into a sorrowful frown. "Y-Yeah. I never even thought of what could happen to me. I guess I leapt before I looked."

Famine felt her heart ache at hearing and seeing the melancholy. She looked away, unable to withstand looking at his dejected expression. "I'm sorry, Prompto," she whispered.

The sharpshooter shook his head. "Nah. Don't apologize, (Y/n). I know you're just looking out for me." He pulled his arm free of her grip and wrapped it around her waist, pulling her into a side hug and nuzzling his nose against her cheek.

Pestilence smiled from ear to ear at the scene. She placed her hands together, entwined her fingers, and leaned her cheek against her hands. "Aw, how sweet. I'm jealous of the zealous between you two."

The elevator suddenly jolted to a halt, alerting the group. Ignis raised his flashlight a little to see where the lift had carried them. "It appears to be another narrow passage."

The low howl the advisor heard earlier echoed through the passageway. (Y/n)'s eyes widened when she recognized the sound. "Hold on a sec... That's the Gashadokuro. How did—? What is—?"

"Wanna bet the chancellor is behind this?" Gladio glanced at Famine.

She sighed with closed eyes. "I wouldn't be surprised..." She opened her eyes, staring down the passageway. "After five years, he makes another appearance."

"Let's not fret over the chancellor. Right now, we've a monster to deal with," Pestilence stated.

Ignis opened the gate and gestured to the darkness before them. "Onward, then."

They stepped off the lift and walked down the lengthy, narrow passageway. As the monster's cry crescendoed, they noticed the pathway began to lighten up. When they reached the end, the passage opened up into a large room dimly lit by torches. Along the stone walls were symbols drawn with chalk alongside splotches of blood.

Walking further into the immense chamber, the amount of blood increased. In the middle of the room was none other than the monster (Y/n) had been hunting for so long. She gasped when she saw the large creature chained to the ground. "They captured it?"

"Look at the body parts," Pestilence murmured, pointing out the array of human body parts that were littered near the Gashadokuro. "They've been feeding it."

"Guess they weren't following the tale after all." Famine turned and eyed Gladio. "I hope the hunters are ready to deliver some terrible news to families. It seems we've found the bodies of the missing people."

Gladio rubbed the back of his neck with a scowl. "Shit..."

Pestilence stepped toward the body parts, ignoring how the Gashadokuro was trying to reach out and grab her. "Ignis informed me of the other ten bodies the hunters discovered. They were all members of the cult. It seems they volunteered their blood to nourish the daemon they had in their possession. It seems Ardyn failed to mention the Gashadokuro is no daemon."

"The diet of the Gashadokuro is human blood. They'll eat the head off its victims, but it'll toss the remainder of the body aside once its drained of blood," Famine added.

"That would explain the numerous appendages," Ignis said.

"This is gonna be one helluva story to tell Dave," Gladio huffed a heavy sigh.

(Y/n) summoned her sword and stepped toward the monster chained to the floor, noticing the leg she had severed was gradually growing back. She had to admit she was impressed with how well they were able to lure the Gashadokuro to this exact chamber and chain it down. Blade held tight, she kneels down in front of the creature's face. Its jaw unhinged, releasing a bellowing roar in her face. The horrid stench of its breath caused her to scowl. "Guess they gave you enough blood to allow your leg to start regenerating. It's a shame this won't be a fulfilling battle, though. At least with these chains, you can't do that little vanishing act you love to do so much when you know you're about to be killed."

The Horseman held out her sword and charged it with lightning, fire, and ice. She let the mana overflow before bringing her blade down and plunging it into the Gashadokuro's skull. It released a deafening wail before the elements ricocheted through its body. Its roaring was silenced as branches of  lightning erupted from its body alongside burning flames and ice shards. Hearing its dying breath wasn't enough for (Y/n) and she didn't yank her blade from the monster's skull until she felt the exhaustion of using a hefty amount of mana.

Once the blade was freed from the creature's skull, (Y/n) watched as its body disintegrated. The chains 'thumped' against the ground and Famine took a few steps back. She dispelled her blade with a sigh, feeling relief wash over her. "Finally... It's over."

"All the monsters that escaped the Inner Sanctum have been slain. It seems we'll be able to return home once King Aeshema receives word of our success," Pestilence said.

"Bravo!" The five suddenly heard a voice chant. Everyone turned and saw a man standing a few feet away, clapping his hands.

"I knew I chose the perfect souls to become the Four Horsemen," he smiled softly.

"Y-Your Highness?" Famine stuttered in utter shock. "What're you doing here?"

"With the Starscourge ravaging Eos and my subjects wandering amuck, Hell has become rather... boring," he confesses. "I came here to see how my most loyal and trustworthy allies were handling the land of the living."

"You're taking quite a risk being here, Your Highness," Pestilence sighed.

"Oh, nonsense, Pestilence. Even a king needs a vacation." Aeshema glanced between the three men who were present. "Gentlemen, I must apologize for any reckless actions my Horsemen have stirred."

"Quite the opposite," Ignis stated. "They have proven to be admirable allies."

Aeshema's smile widened. "Well then, I'm glad to hear that. Now," he clapped his hands together once again. "The doorway to the Inner Sanctum has been opened. You girls better head back."

"Wait!" Prompto shouted, grabbing the king's attentions. "Can't they stay here?"

"Oh?" Aeshema grinned. "And why, pray tell, would they need to stay on Eos? They have a very important job to attend to in the Inner Sanctum."

"Because... Because I..." Prompto stared at (Y/n), fists clenched by his sides and unable to finish his sentence.

"May I speak with you in private, King Aeshema?" The golden-haired Horseman stepped forward.

The daemon king nodded. "Of course, Famine."

Gladio, Ignis, and Pestilence left while dragging along a reluctant Prompto. They rode the elevator back to the surface and headed to the shield's truck. While the trio chatted, the blonde spotted (Y/n)'s clothes in the back of the vehicle. He opens the door and grabs them just as she and King Aeshema return.

"Prompto," the girl said. "Would you come with me for a moment? I'll also be needing those." She pointed to her clothes.

He nodded and followed her a little ways from the truck. As she changed with his back turned to her, she told him what she discussed with the daemon king. "I've told His Highness about our relationship."

Prompto clutched the sides of his pants with both hands, swallowing nervously. "W-What did he say?"

"Well..." (Y/n) tugged at the hem of her outfit as she spun around, sporting a smile. She maneuvered around her boyfriend to show him her joyous expression. "He was shocked at first. Then, he was happy. He doesn't have any qualms with our relationship. He actually... blessed it."

Prompto had feared the day she would slay the Gashadokuro. He was glad the monster kept vanishing because that meant he'd have more time with her. But now that he knew they wouldn't be torn apart, he couldn't hide his excitement and joy. He took the girl in his arms and crushed her in a hug. He placed kisses all across her face, making her giggle.

"There's actually more good news," (Y/n) said, snuggling her cheek against his chest.

"What could get better than that?" He asked.

"You want to see the Inner Sanctum, right? Well, the king said he'd grant you a week's time to my home. You only have to tell him when you want to go."

Prompto felt tears of joy prick at the corners of his eyes. He pulled her into a passionate kiss, not wasting a single moment. The kiss would've turned into a full make-out session if the two hadn't stopped themselves beforehand.

When they pried their lips from one another's, Prompto pressed his forehead against (Y/n)'s. "You're the best, sweetie."

[mischievousmarvelousmagical-blog]

You’re Welcome ~ [Mata feat. Naomi]

@theycallme-rita, @someonespecial-naomi

In which Maui’s time as a tribute comes to an end...

[tw--blood, gore, violence, death etc etc]

NAOMI looked down at the objects in her hands, knowing that so far as plans went, they didn't get much more desperate than this. The sun was already beginning to peek through the trees, drying away the last of the rain, and in Naomi's hand, she held a torch. Naomi had torn the Hot Brad shirt into strips and wrapped them around two branches to act as fuel, dipping them in sap to help them burn longer.

Mateo had taken the batteries Charlie had left behind and the wire he'd been sent and managed to rig up a make-shift lighter. Now all that was left was to burn it all down. Jim and Rama were either screaming at their screens or preening in pride; after all, they'd been the ones to inspire her. It wasn't uncommon to burn fields in Five; burn away all that remained after the harvest and let the ashes fertilize the fields for when they cycled back around to the cleared land. Rama had burned through his Games with a single canister of kerosene and a box of matches. Jim had hunted down the remaining Tributes with fire dripping between his teeth and licking through the industrial arena. Naomi was just continuing the tradition.

"You got your tin of water?" she asked Mateo quietly. She had filled her own tin full, it being one of the few things she was keeping. If this plan worked, they needed to be fast, and Naomi couldn't have anything unnecessary weighing her down. Wasn't like she was going to need this all anyways. It was ending. Today.

MATEO, at first, had thought this plan was insane due to growing up in a lab. Everyone knew fire in a contained area with people was a nono. But he wasn’t in a lab, there weren’t any warning labels. And thinking about it, Mateo knew Naomi was right. He too wanted to see the places that had been crafted specifically to harm them and all the other tributes go up in flames. So he set about combining the the batteries, leftover pieces from the flashlight that had jangled around in his pockets all this time, and the wire he had been sent, the spark they made would be enough to get him through their plan. 

“Got it,” he said, wiggling the tin for her to see, the muffled sound of water sloshing against the sides coming forwards. Mateo pressed a smile to his mouth even though the rest of his expression read worry, “You ready?”

NAOMI grinned, baring her teeth. "Ready as I'll ever be. Remember, if we get separated, meet up in the area with the rocks, yeah?" There, the fire would have nothing to burn. There, there would be nowhere to hide. There, they'd make their final stand. After a moment of hesitation, Naomi gave Mateo another tight hug, lingering for a moment before rising onto her toes and kissing his forehead. 

"May the odds be ever in our favor," she joked darkly, giving him a nod before stepping back and holding out the two torches for him to light. 

MATEO nodded his confirmation that he understood. They were in this together now, after all. He wasn’t expecting the hug, his body going rigid when she first made contact but he quickly relaxed once his brain caught up, and managed to return it for a moment, breathing in deeply, before they released one another. Mateo closed his eyes, pressing into the contact of the forehead kiss, and smiled when he met her gaze once more. 

“Alright,” he said, expression turning serious as he focused on the task at hand. With one hand he held the batteries and with the other he pressed the exposed end of the wire to the end of the battery. It took a moment but soon enough the end of the wire glowed red. He lifted it to one of the torches Naomi had, flinching a little when the flame caught as it burned his fingers, but kept it steady in order to keep the contact. 

Finally the fire caught and moved, lighting the torch up to its full potential and Mateo stepped back.

NAOMI watched as the torch smoked, then smoldered, then burned; holding it far enough that she didn't risk burning herself - they had torn pieces from the tarp to wrap their hands in, just in case. She quickly lit the other torch and waited until the flame was burning brightly before handing it off to Mateo wordlessly. Moving downwind, Naomi held the torch out towards a tree at the edge of the clearing, and began to sing. She could remember watching her father and uncles moving through the fields with their torches, singing to the goddesses as the fields burned. Praying for safety. Praying for a good crop the next year. Praying for health. Praying the fire didn't roar out of their control.

Naomi prayed for the forest to light. The tree began to burn, and Naomi quickly moved to the other trees in the area, singing louder and louder as she prayed for the forest to burn. Prayed for the Gamemakers to not put the fire out fast enough. Prayed for the other Tributes to be caught in the flames. Prayed for her life. Prayed for Mateo's. Prayed for Greg and Brad and Charlie and all the other children thrown into this godforsaken arena.

The 300th Hunger Games began to burn.

MARU had fallen into another fitful sleep in a tree after a measly meal of cheese and crackers. It wasn't filling. His stomach still growled. He stayed up late enough to watch the sky project who had died. The girl from four and the boy from three. Maru frowned.

Then, he slept.

He woke with the scent of smoke in his nostrils, burning his nose. He coughed and scrambled from the tree. The fire crackled and popped. For a second, he considered just--running into it. But there were three others left. Maybe he could win. So, instead, he turned on his heel and ran and ran and ran until his lungs burned. He burst from the trees and kept running until he reached far enough into the rock quarry. He was coughing, gasping for breath--and then he saw Rita standing there. He straightened up some, reaching for his axe, heart pounding.

RITA had retreated back to a place she knew was safe. The quarry had offered her shelter on that first day. Had kept her safe. Truthfully, it had been the place she'd been headed towards the previous night before she'd run into Maru. She was tired, so very tried and sleeping had only felt safe in between those two rocks that hid her from view. There were only four left now. 

The smell of smoke woke her up and she looked around quickly. Was this some sort of trick from the game makers? Were they trying to bring the games to an end? Were they unhappy with how things were turning out? The Capitol was surely getting bored. They liked action. Her hand moved to her side, fingers curling around the dagger as Maru came into view, her eyes narrowing as he coughed. 

"What the fuck?"

MARU kept his hand on his axe but he just--shrugged a little, helplessly at her. "Figure the gamemakers want a nice bloody battle to end it," he said with a humorless laugh. He shook his head and pushed his hair back on his forehead where it had stuck in thick curls.

"Should we even give it to them?" RITA huffed, features softening just a bit. She didn't want a bloody battle. She wanted to go home. "Why do they," she gestured wildly to the open air. "get to decide what we do? Bullshit."

MARU "Name of the game," he shrugged again, looked her up and down. "Bet we could take out that boy from 3 no problem."

RITA "Bullshit game." She watched him, trying to figure out if he was sizing her up. Maybe he thought he could kill her. She'd put up a fight. One helluva fight. "Personally? I'm not worried about him. I'm worried about the girl. She's.... strong."

MARU smirked--he didn't feel like himself at all when he did it, but he did it. Smirked. There was a gleam in his eye. "Bet we could take her too."

RITA raised an eyebrow. "And what happens after? When it's just me and you, huh? We can't both win. You know they won't let that happen."

MARU shrugged again and his smirk dropped off. The gleam left his eyes as soon as it came. "I'll make it quick."

"No. I've made it this far. I need to go home to my son," RITA shook her head, adamant. She wasn't going to come this far just to die. She wasn't going to let Ollie see that.

"Yeah, well, I'll give you a fair fight--that's all I've got. I've people to go home to, too. We can make sure it's one of us, either way."

"Pinkie promise," RITA stepped forward, holding her pinkie out to him. It was the only piece of home that she could bring into the ring. Even if in the end it wouldn't mean anything.

MARU flinched a little as she stepped closer. He hadn't expected that. Glancing down, he eyed her hand warily. It wouldn't be hard for her to jerk him forwards and slit his throat with her dagger. At least it would be fast. He stepped towards her too, gingerly--his ankle was definitely sprained--and he raised his hand, wrapping his pinkie around hers and shaking up and down once. "Pinkie promise."

RITA gave a small smile at that. She was thankful that in what could be her last moments, he was kind enough to placate her. "Thanks. Means a lot." She stepped back then and cleared her throat. "Should we go look for 'em? Or just... Wait?"

MARU unsheathed his axe and slung it up over his shoulder. He put his hand to his forehead, looking out over the quarry. The sun was mostly shielded by the smoke. "Might as well get it over with," he said with a shrug and he moved slowly, stealthily forwards, axe raised.

RITA nodded, following suit. Her fingers tightened around her dagger and followed. Her eyes darted around, scanning the area for anything or anyone that would hurt either of them. The entire time the only thing that ran through her head was that she needed to get home to Ollie. She needed to survive this.

NAOMI and Mateo had both chucked their torches as far as they could once they reached the quarry, holding the sleeves of the Hot Brad shirt to their noses and mouths to help filter out the smoke. Luckily, the quarry wasn't burning, so Naomi dropped the cloth and instead took up her hatchet and whip. Mateo was carrying their remaining supplies, and together they moved as quietly as possible through the canyon. Each sound echoed back to them, loud as a gunshot, and Naomi was shaking with anticipation as they walked along.

They stopped, and still the footsteps came.

She narrowed her eyes and motioned for Mateo to get behind some rocks to hide as she crept slowly forward. She could barely feel the burning in her ribs anymore. All she could feel was her own blood, pumping hard and fast and hot with adrenaline in her veins.

MATEO followed after Naomi, coughing and wheezing despite the fabric that was covering his face. He heaved a breath when they were out of the worst of it. He kept close to Naomi, looking to the side and over his shoulder in search of the other tributes as no canons had gone off so surely they had made their way here, to where the fire hadn’t reached.

He froze when Naomi did, eyes widening at the sounds, he looked to Naomi then, unsure of what the plan was now. Mateo wasn’t a fighter, he was just a lab rat.

When Naomi motioned for him to hide he hesitated shaking his head, wanting to help, to do something to help her. They were in this together were they not? But at the same time...at the same time he was a clumsy idiot who would be nothing more than a hindrance. So he nodded, finally, slowly walking away while he kept his eyes on her until he was far enough. Mateo then took off to hide behind the rocks she had pointed to, crouching down in the dirt.

MARU It didn't take long for them to run into the girl. Maru kind of wished it was the boy first. At least--it wouldn't be that hard to take him out. The girl though--she was tough like Rita said.

They came upon her, Maru's eyes flicked around, looking around--for any other signs of movement, knowing the girl and boy had been camped together the night before. Could be working together the way Maru and Rita were. His gaze flicked back to the girl and he spun his axe around in his hand once.

"Ready," he said to Rita, though he wasn't looking at her.

RITA They came upon the girl quickly and she was both relieved and filled with a nervous tension. At least she wasn't going into this alone this time. She raised her dagger as Maru's axe spun. She was scared but it was drowned out, once more, by Roscoe's voice.

Don't hesitate. Don't give her a chance. Strike hard, strike fast. Come home to me. Come home to Ollie.

"Ready." She breathed the word out as she charged forward, looking to tackle the girl to the ground or at least throw her off her balance. It'd give Maru a chance to immobilize her further. From there it'd be quick work. It had to be quick work.

NAOMI Fuck, they were together. Naomi had been fairly confident they could take them one on one, but now... No. It didn't matter. They were all injured and Naomi could hit from a distance. She'd make it.

Rita - they had shared drinks not even a week ago - charged at her and Naomi dove forward past her, rolling across the ground and racing past them, ignoring the painful twinge in her side as the vest barely held her together. She spun on her heel and snapped her whip out fast and hard at the boy. She could take Rita by herself, she thought in the back of her head, oddly calm. She needed to keep Maru away though. If he got close with that axe, she was done for.

MARU was glad that Rita had rushed her first because his ankle was pounding. He could barely stand on it after having rushed out of the forest. It didn't matter, however, as Naomi dodged right passed them.

He spun on his own heel to keep her in his line of sight, but the movement twinged his ankle and he went down to one knee with a cry--the only thing that saved him from the lash of the whip as it cracked over his head.

RITA let out an animal like noise as she whipped around, the dagger flying from her hand in the process. She watched as it sailed through the air. She paid no attention as Maru went down. She couldn't think about it him in this. They had a common goal. Take down that bitch who stood between her and Roscoe and Ollie. All she had to do was kill her and it would be a cake walk.

With the second dagger now in her hands, she moved again, darting across the rocky terrain and past Maru. She need to get this girl down. Get that fucking whip out of her hands.

NAOMI Maru went down with a yell and Rita's scream was the only thing keeping her from running him down and swinging her hatchet into his throat.  She turned and hissed as the dagger slid past her arm, leaving a long, narrow gash. Rita was running at her now and Naomi attempted to whip at her as she rapidly stepped back. It swung too wide, and Naomi grimaced as she moved the hatchet to her right, holding it and the whip in one hand. It was awkward, but freed up her hand to deflect Rita's attack.

MARU scrambled to his feet after that first second, Rita rushing passed him. His blood was rushing in his ears. He moved forwards, looking to get that bloody whip out of her hand. If he could snatch it, toss it away--it'd be a close quarters fight from there.

"Oi!" he shouted to try and get her attention as he came up on her right side, looking to step on the part of the whip that trailed along the ground.

RITA heard the cry and looked towards Maru right before she ran into Naomi.

There was no sound but the blood rushing in her ears, coursing like an angry stream. Rita was in full out survival mode at this point. Ready to kill at a moment's notice. And she wanted to. She wanted to drive her knife into Naomi's flesh. There'd be no remorse. No nothing.

NAOMI heard Maui scream but couldn't take her eyes away from Rita, not when she was right on top of her. Naomi grabbed the wrist of the hand holding her dagger and shoved it away as Rita charged at her, her eyes wild. She snapped her fist forward, curled tight around her hatchet and whip as she punched the woman hard in the throat before scrambling back, turning to Maui and swinging her whip again. It was messy and barely made a snapping sound, but gave Naomi enough time to scramble back and attempt another swing, this time at Rita.

She could take them. She could take them. Maru's ankle was hurt and Rita's wrist was in a splint. She had a full night's sleep and food. She could take them. Her thoughts were steady and quiet as they looped again and again. She could take them.

MARU had his eyes trained on the whip. He didn't care about Rita. Didn't care about Naomi. At the moment, it was all about the damn whip. It flicked through the air towards him, though this time, there was hardly a snap to it. It wasn't vicious and it wasn't going to bite him.

He took the opportunity, reaching his hand out so that the end of it wrapped around his wrist in a coil. His hand twisted around the rest of it and he jerked with a hard snap, trying to yank it from her hand.

NAOMI cried out as the rope around her wrist pulled tight, yanking her forward. She looked at Maru with a snarl and let the momentum carry her forward, dropping her hatchet and catching it with her other hand as she ran at him. Close the distance, reach him before he could swing the axe, it was useless close up. She just needed to close the gap. She swung the blade at his chest with a scream before letting her foot swing towards his ankle.

RITA saw her move and before she knew what she was doing, Rita charged forward. This time there was no one to stop her. Naomi was focused on Maru and Maru wasn't going to hurt her. Not until Naomi was taken out of the picture. Naomi and the boy. All she had to do was stop this bitch from killing him.

A grunt pushed past her lips as her body connected with Naomi's, successfully pushing her onto the ground. She didn't feel the pain as some of her weight landed on her broken hand. All she could focus on was Naomi, taking her out. Doing anything to stop her from killing Maru or herself.

MARU Well, shit. Hadn't expected the bitch to come running right fucking at him. He stumbled back a step, two, but she was already on top of him. Her knife slashed across his chest, cutting an arc through his shirt. The pain blossomed and he felt the blood running down his chest. He knew what that felt like. He'd been covered in other people's blood all week.

She kicked his ankle and then, Rita came out of nowhere and knocked into her. Maru fell to the ground, scrambling for his hatchet. Raising it, he sat, prone and ready for whichever girl came out on top.

NAOMI only had the brief satisfaction of knowing her foot and blade has connected before something crashed into her and sent her into the ground. Pain blossomed hot and all-consuming from her ribs as she hit the ground, and Naomi cried out as tears pooled in her eyes. No giving up yet. Not yet. Naomi threw her head back, feeling it connect with Rita before she swung her elbow back as hard as she could into her side. She desperately tried to buck her hips up, get turned over so she wasn't facing the dirt. She didn't want to die with her back to her murderer, she wanted them to look her in the eye.

She wanted to take their fucking eye out.

She rolled hard, kicking and squirming in an attempt to roll Rita off of her and into Maru.

RITA was good at very few things when it came to this. Roscoe had made sure she was trained with his knives and that she was able to best him in hand to hand combat. It'd be imperative, he'd told her. Not everything was done far away. Battles could be close up. Tributes could attempt to kill you with their bare hands. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered in the arena.

She clung to Naomi even as she headbutted and elbowed her. Her good hand grabbed a fistful of hair, fingers twisting in it and pulling as hard as she could before she pushed it forward as hard as she could. Her broken hand searched for the dagger that had slipped from her grasp. When she found it, she curled her fingers around it as best she could as she pushed herself up to sit on her back.

NAOMI's head was pulled back before slamming forward into the ground, and pain ripped through her skull. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. Her head was still reeling as Rita pushed herself up onto her back, dagger glinting as it passed her face. No. Nonono. Naomi screamed - the sound blood-choked and feral- as she tightened her grip on her hatchet and swung it back into Rita's thigh as hard as the awkward angle allowed.

RITA She knew the girl was disorientated, just enough. Enough for her to let go long enough to get her dagger in her good hand once more. Her weight shifted, as she braced her forearm against the girl's back. The dagger slipped into her side easily and to the hilt. Rita knew it wouldn't kill automatically. She didn't want it to. No. She wanted her to suffer. To be able to say her goodbyes before death took her.

The hatchet, though, she forgot about the damn thing and winced as it hit her leg. She could feel the skin split but ignored it. Instead, she leaned back down, her mouth so close to Naomi's ear. "You're going to die. There's no changing that. You move it'll be faster. I don't give a fuck where you go. But say your goodbyes to whoever you need to." She pulled the dagger from the girl's side, wiping it on her pants before picking the hatchet up and tossing it to the side. "Try and kill us and I won't hesitate to slit your fuckin' throat."

MARU just kind of stared, flinching back as Rita tossed the hatchet. He felt his heart beating fast in his chest. Each time he blinked Naomi was someone else--The girl from six, the girl from three, the boy from two, Penny, Peg, the sisters, his mother, Lymantria. He felt his throat clogged with tears and bile. There was nothing in his stomach to vomit, though.

He blinked, two hot tears slipping down his dirty cheeks, but all he did was stand back and avert his eyes. He didn't want to see that beautiful, powerful girl scampering off somewhere to die like a wounded animal--which is exactly what she was.

NAOMI felt the blade going into her side, and she could only gasp. Oh. Oh, that hurt more than she expected. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she struggled to breathe past her own sobs. No. Nonono. Not yet. Not yet. There was no one to sing to her now.

Rita's words were cold and mocking, and Naomi's fingers dug into the ground. She spit out blood as it ran down her nose and bubbled over her lips. "I hope you can look your son in the eye when you get home," she gasped out between harsh breaths, fury and spite the only thing ruling her tongue. "I hope you die fucking screaming." In ten minutes. In ten weeks. In ten years. Wherever she was, Naomi hoped she died knowing that somewhere, there was a mother who had lost her only child to her. Who's hand would find her throat in the afterlife.

Naomi saw Maru look away, and spit blood at him. "LOOK AT ME!" she screamed, the words bubbling with blood and hatred.

MARU flinched as the girl screamed at him, but he didn't look up. He could feel his heart in his throat, the tears in his eyes. His fingers were trembling. There was a shuffle, dust. Then, the sound of footsteps retreating.

A few moments of silence.

And then, ash began to fall from the sky, like black rain.

He wished it was raining. He wanted to wash all of this blood off of him. He wanted a hot shower. He wanted to scrub all of it off of him, until his skin was glowing gold. Until he couldn't smell anything but the soap from home. The same soap his mom used. He wished he could hug her--

He couldn't do that covered in blood like this.

And it would never go away, would it?

Every time he blinked, he saw a different face behind his eyelids. He was so--tired.

Without his permission a little sob eeked from his lips. Those lips of his trembled and he looked towards Rita. "You know Lymantria Khan, from back home?"

RITA was breathing heavily. The adrenaline that accompanied the fight was slowly ebbing away and the aches and pains were coming back tenfold. She could feel the blood from her thigh dripping down her leg, wetting her pants legs with the sticky fluid. For a long moment she forgot even that Maru was there, her eyes were fixated on the space the girl had been. There was a small pool of blood where she'd laid. Rita had done that. She'd created that mess.

She was a monster.

You did what you had to. You did what was needed so you could come home.

Maru's sob brought her back and she turned to him. Her own eyes had begun to water as she looked at him. He looked like a child. Despite the dirt and grime and blood. He was still so young, so broken. She nodded at his words slowly. "She--- She's the girl you came here for, right? The, uh, the blind one?"

MARU Another little sob bubbled to his lips but he choked on it and swallowed it down. Nodded at her.

Then, he sunk down onto one knee, and then the other.

He looked up at her, blinking the tears away, down his cheeks, into his hairline. "Take care of her, yeah? She d-doesn't need much. S-she's all a-alone. And, my mom too, if you--you can spare it. I'm her--her last son. I was--I was supposed to come home. But I-I can't kill you. You've g-got a kid. And I-I'm so sorry." His head bowed for a second and he sniffled and sobbed again.

"You--you know how to make it fast, yeah?" He looked back up at her and smiled a little. "I won't be a ghost for you to carry, I promise."

RITA cried as she stood back up. The tears came in hot streams down her cheeks. "Thank you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she breathed out. She was going to win. She was going to take care of Lymantria and his mother. She'd see her son again. She'd see Roscoe. Maru was giving this to her.

She was thankful he closed his eyes. If he had been looking at her she wouldn't have been able to. She would have figured out some way to fuck the whole system up. Bring the Capitol fucks to their knees. Give them a show they would have never thought of.

Around them the forest burned. Rita burned in her chest as she let the dagger fall from her hands. Instead she picked up the hatchet, feeling it's heavy weight as she clutched it in her good hand. Fast, as painless as possible. She couldn't do this with emotion. Had to purge it from herself so that she'd be able to do what needed to be done.

Count of three, yeah?

Her eyes closed as she swung the hatchet down with as much might as she could. Her scream drowned out the sound of it finding purchase in Maru's skull. In the distance a cannon sounded, loud and jarring.

[indominusregina]

Fresh Eyes

Warnings: My usual language

Words: 1.6k

Notes: I got listening to Andy Grammer’s new album “The Good Parts” and although “Fresh Eyes” is not a new song to me, I couldn’t get the song out of my head, so this is kinda inspired by that. Finn is inspired by a sweet pupper at my local animal shelter who is up for adoption. Just a fluffly thing while I work on getting better and continuing “The Bet”

Feedback gives me life! 

Masterlist

When Steve first met you, it knocked the wind out of him. Literally. He was strolling quietly through Central Park, hood up and hat tugged down to obscure his face. New York City was just starting to get a bit chillier and Steve was grateful for the excuse to use his standard public disguise. He had a small smile on his face as he saw families playing together in the falling leaves, couples strolling together hand in hand, and friends who were clearly enjoying a first visit to the city. He was so wrapped up in his admiration of the scene in front of him that he almost didn’t hear the shout of the woman nearby.

“Finn, no! Heel, Finn. Finnegan!” The voice had gotten steadily more panicked, and he managed to turn towards it just in time for a large brown mass to tackle him. He let out a grunt as his back hit the hard ground and his hat flew off. Mere seconds later, his face was getting the bath of a lifetime as a warm tongue managed to find every nook and cranny of his features. It was only a few moments later that the bath stopped with a quick jerk and whine. “I’m so, so sorry sir. Sit Finnegan! Finn and I are pretty new to each other and I guess I didn’t know how strong he could be and I…you’re laughing.” Steve was chuckling as he wiped his face off with his sleeve.

“It’s no trouble. Although I can’t say I expected to be knocked over by a dog today.” Steve reached around behind him to grab his hat and tug it back on before eyeing the sable pitbull and its owner.

“Well, even I underestimated Finn’s strength.” He locked eyes with you, and his breath was stolen again by your y/e/c eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?” You’d asked, concern showing plainly in those magnificent orbs, and he stood slowly, a smile forming on his face as he nodded, unsure of whether or not his words would fail him. “You’re not just lying to prevent a poor girl from freaking out on you?” He laughed again, and finally found his voice.

“Not lying, ma’am.” He said with a slight nod of his head, and he watched as red rose into your cheeks.

“Oh, wow. Ma’am. I don’t think I’ve ever been called ma’am before. It sounds so posh. Or maybe that’s madam….” You rambled in front of him and Steve’s grin grew. Finn chose that moment to let out a booming bark, and seemingly without thought, you turned and shouted “WHAT” in the same tone. It was that moment that Steve would swear was the moment he knew he wanted to be a part of your life. Finn barked again, and you’d responded with an energetic “you’re right!” again matching tone.

“How would you like to get a hot drink? It’s the least Finn and I can do for knocking you over.” You asked, beating Steve to the question.  He assented and revelled in the grin he got in response.

“But I have one condition.” He watched as your grin fell slightly and he felt a little guilty for leading with that. “You have to tell me your name.” You laughed, face flushing in what was clearly embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think about that. I’m Y/N.” You extended your hand to shake his and he clasped it firmly, a soft smile on his face.

“And I’m -”

“Captain Steve Rogers.” You interrupted him, a sheepish grin on your face. Your voice lowered to a whisper and you leaned in to say the next part. “I don’t know if anyone’s told you, but you’re kind of a big deal around these parts.” He let out a laugh at that, and Finn jumped up, clearly ready to move along. You walked together to the nearest stand and purchased some hot cider before continuing along the path, Finn in the lead. As you strolled along, conversation flowed easily, and before he’d realized, an hour had passed.

“Shit, we gotta get going. It’s been wonderful talking to you, Captain.” You smiled, and he had to fight his frown as you’d yet to exchange any contact information.

“You too. Will I see you around the park again?” He tried his best not to sound too hopeful, but he was sure he messed up.

“I don’t think I’m quite ready to handle Finn in the park yet. Don’t want any more poor guys getting knocked over.” You shrugged, and his words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

“What if I walked with you?” Your stunned expression prompted him to elaborate. “I just mean that he seemed to be a bit calmer with the both of us here, and if he gets out of hand, I could probably help you handle him.”

“I…You really want to do that?” The look of confusion in your eyes was almost too much for him.

“Of course. How about tomorrow?” He asked, and you smiled with a twinkle in those eyes that was sure to kill him.

“A little eager, aren’t you?” You let out a short laugh before nodding. “Tomorrow works. See you at 9 at the hot cider place?” He almost breathed a sigh of relief.

“Count on it.” He grinned, watching as you turned and ran off with Finn bounding happily along at your side. He waited until he could no longer see you before turning back towards the tower. He was late for training, but it didn’t matter. He’d just secured himself a second date, he hoped.

—-

After months of comfortable dates in secret, Steve had decided it was time for you to meet his friends. “Wait, what? Steve, honey, are you sure? I don’t really think I’m Avenger-friend material.” You’d responded in a panic, which had caused Finn to press into your side as your stress bubbled to the surface.

“You’re Avenger-girlfriend material.” Steve had responded, and he’d watched as you’d struggled to come up with a response.

“Fine.” You’d finally responded, and he gave you a kiss on the nose as you sulked. “But I’m arriving to this stupid thing on my own so that if I look like a total idiot, you can pretend you don’t know me.” Steve had rolled his eyes at that, but conceded.

By the time the actual night of Tony’s New Year’s Eve party rolled around, Steve was pretty sure you’d described, in painful detail, every single thing that could possibly go wrong, which he hoped meant you were prepared for every possible scenario.

Your nerves must have transferred to him, he thought as he sat anxiously at the bar flanked by Natasha and Sam. His hand caged his phone beneath it, and he almost prayed it would buzz to alert him of your arrival.

“Geez, Cap, loosen up. The year from hell is practically over.” Natasha drawled, leaning back against the bar, eyes scanning the crowd. Sam leaned back on the other side, a cheeky grin on his face.

“Nah, Steve’s just worried that we’re going to find out that his imaginary girlfriend is just that, imaginary.”  

“She’s not imaginary.” Steve mumbled as he drained the rest of his drink. He’d agreed on letting you arrive fashionably late, a fact he now regretted.

“Sure, and I’m Iron Man.” Steve rolled his eyes as he gestured for another drink. Curse the super-soldier metabolism that made it impossible for the alcohol to take the edge off. Just as another drink was set in front of him, Sam straightened beside him and let out a low whistle. “God damn. Tony sure knows how to pick ‘em.” Steve turned slowly and the sight that greeted him made the rest of the room disappear. Knocked breathless again, he watched as you handed over your coat to the coat check, eyes sweeping your form.

“Oh damn.” He muttered under his breath as he rose, striding across the room so quickly he didn’t hear Natasha’s chirp of ‘language!’ When you spotted him, a large grin spread across your face and he could swear that his heart stopped.

“Hi, Steve! Sorry I’m later than I wanted to be, Finn wouldn’t settle until he’d had a nice long walk and I spent a little more time in front of the mirror than usual because let’s face it, I was coming to a Tony Stark Party and I’m just kind of hoping that I’m dressed acceptably and you’re staring.” Your rambling turned to a hard statement and he realised he’d had yet to say anything.

“Sorry, sorry.” Steve shook his head and leaned in to give you a lingering kiss. When he pulled away, he left his forehead resting against yours, a large grin spreading across his face as you spoke dazedly.

“That’s one helluva hello, Rogers.” You looked up into his eyes and his filter disappeared again.

“I love you.” He watched as you processed his words, eyes lighting up before your grin grew to match his own.

“I love you too, Stevie.” You leaned up to give him a quick peck before laughing. “You know, for all the scenarios I worried about, I don’t think this was one of them.” Steve laughed with you, wrapping an arm around you before leading you back to the bar where Sam and Natasha looked about ready to pounce.

“You ready for this?” He asked, giving your shoulder a squeeze. You looked up at him, and his heart swelled at your answer.

“With you, I’m ready for anything.”

Tags: @childoftimeandmagic

[kida-oftheworld-blog]

Chapter 5: A Party That Never Ends With a Host That Never Dies

[in which Kida makes a stand and things come to an end]

Get up to date: Chapter 1: News Cycle (Hellscape) Chapter 1.5: A Weird-Form Interlude Chapter 2: The Master of My Own Domain (Dreamscape) Chapter 3: Whats in the booox? (Lifescape) Chapter 4: Help From Another World Chapter 4.5: Interlude: The Other World Reaction

[tw: violent imagery but nothing gory? its a showdown guys, use your judgement here. know your limit, play within it || Word count: 5170]

@thedipster

KIDA

Kida knew better than to jump through a box-portal and not bend her knees to brace herself for impact. After all, she hadn’t been born yesterday, but that didn’t mean the landing still didn’t hurt. She didn’t get how a sphere so close to the ground could still seemingly spit her out from so high-up, but that was beyond the point. Cause she was back in Swynlake. Beautiful, partially-2D, torn-sky Swynlake. It wasn’t exactly the home sweet home she had been hoping for upon her return. But that was fine. She still had a plan. More like the outline of a plan, really.

See, there wasn’t a sphere in the sky that she hadn’t ventured into yet. They were all accounted for. Over the buildings she could make out the two first spheres she had come from amongst the bobbing heads of too-tall-to-be-fair demons. One of those heads happened to be heading in her direction, actually, which meant it was time to go. Where, exactly? Kida wasn’t 100% sure. But if she had learned anything from what had happened so far, her best bet was probably the pyramid in the sky. That, of all things, looked like the climax scenario she had been anticipating.

The little side street she had been spat out onto spilled directly onto the road running towards the pyramid in the sky. She turned the corner, figuring that once she got closer she’d be able to figure out a way to climb onto it but--that didn’t seem to be necessary. Where the main road met the avenue that ran perpendicular to it, a doorway had seemingly opened up out of thin air.

Every ounce of Kida’s rational instincts screamed TRAP! TRAP! TRAP! TRAP! and it was probably right.

But what did she have to lose? Three triangle runes in her possession and she was gonna get scared away by an ominous looking staircase? No. Definitely not. The sound of footsteps drew nearer to her and without a single doubt, Kida barrelled down the street at full speed. She crossed the threshold onto the first step, and immediately her body was her own again. Just as immediately, though, the doorway closed behind her, and the only way left to go--was up. With less of the bravado that she had bared just moments ago, Kida climbed all the way up until the stairs levelled out into a singular playing field. Not blank, but not completely full, either. Just seemingly formed by the great tear some ways off in the distance. And for a moment, Kida was seemingly--alone. Alone-ish.

BILL CIPHER

Someone had been chosen.

Bill was aware of this the moment it happened and he knew that she would be coming. He knew that she would collect the runes, knew that she would do it successfully. Knew that in the Other World, someone would be pulling the strings. Knew that, ultimately, he would be defeated, everyone would clap, and he would be but a memory.

But dammit, if he wasn’t going to make this a helluva time.

And dammit, if he wasn’t gonna try to stick around.

He sat atop a great throne, in the Mindscape he’d formed from the collective consciousness of all those involved in this process--the ones in this world, and the ones controlling them in the Other World.

The throne hovered and below it was Dipper’s still body.

Bill sat, spindly legs crossed, spindly fingers tapping on the arms of his throne.

And towards the edge of the Mindscape, he felt a tug. Someone had entered. It was Her--the Chosen One. Like, literally, they chose her.

He narrowed his eye--well, as well as he could narrow his eye--and with a snap of his fingers, he and Dipper’s body shimmered in their current plane, reappearing in front of the girl.

“Well, well, well,” said Bill, growing larger in size and hovering over the girl. He wriggled his fingers, studying his opponent. He wondered why she’d been chosen, of all of them, but he didn’t question the forces behind the Other World; they had more power than him, ultimately.

“I thought you’d come with a trident or a sword or somethin’” cackled Bill. “That’d be a way to do it--stab me in the eye, eh?” The chuckled turned into a low growl. “But no. Just you, Kiddo. Get it--’cuz that’s almost your name? Hahaha, I crack myself up.”

Now truth be told, Bill didn’t know as much about this one as he knew about Dipper or as much as he knew about some of the other citizens of this world. And as he tried to scan for more information, tried to read the old posts, he found he was drawing a blank.

It was those tasks.

They were serving as a blocker. He couldn’t read all her information. He couldn’t find a weakness. He couldn’t hack her.

But he wasn’t gonna let her know that.

“Soooo,” he said, shrinking down a little smaller and bobbing right in front of her. “What’s it gonna be, Princess? You got a secret blaster or somethin’? Gonna spin some magic on me? I’m excited for this.”

KIDA

The more she looked, the more Kida thought she could make something out in the distance. But before she could figure out what exactly it was: it was gone. Disappeared in a shimmering light--and then reappeared. Right in front of her.

So that’s what she was up against, huh? That was… You know, arguably not as scary as the other demons that had been roaming around Swynlake since the beginning. Off the bat, Kida wasn’t terrified, or anything. But then she got to thinking about it, and well, really the point wasn’t that this thing was particularly scary, it was about what it could do. If this was the source, then it had torn the sky open and set hell upon the town. The triangle in front of her wasn’t scary, but that--all of that--was. Kida got that. But she didn’t move a muscle.

Standing there, for the first time, the runes were heavy in her pocket. She’d need them eventually. But not yet.

Kida’s eyes flicked around, following the triangle as it talked. As it entertained. Cause that’s what it felt like. Like he was some kind of host, as if Kida was just part of the show.

“Yeah-- uh, no.” She replied, cutting it off before it launched into the second act of its speech. If there was gonna be exposition, it was gonna be on her own terms, thanks.

“I’m not really the…” Kida lifted a hand up, let it fall back down against her thigh. “Fighting type, if I can swing it. I’m here to--to talk, actually.”

BILL CIPHER

Bill blinked. (Or was it winked--really, he only had one eye, so was it winking or blinking?)

He bobbed a bit in the air, then rested his hands on the lower part of his form (his hips, one could say, if he did have hips), eyeing this...girl. Character. Person. Thing. Carbon-based lifeform. Sack of meat. Pixels on a screen. Formless creature made up only of words and thoughts. Animator’s sketch. Cells of paint.

She was a lot of things to Bill, but he while he could see all of those, he couldn’t look closer at the one that actually mattered. Which was, really, NOT FAIR, c’mon.

“Alright,” said Bill, lowering himself a little. “Let’s talk.” He let out a low chuckle. “Do you realize my game yet? That’ll be my one regret if you do defeat me--that no one figured it out. No one saw their true potential.” He bounced a bit, circling around her slightly, but keeping his distance.

“But, maybe I’m having too much fate in you--alright, let’s hear it, what do you wanna say that’s gonna make me tremble?”

KIDA

Kida didn’t know what she was getting herself into. Figuring her way out of those orbs, walking up those stairs, she had imagined that it was at this point that things were gonna start making sense. Things like this were supposed to fit together like puzzle pieces, weren’t they? The rip in the sky and the demons and the spheres, they were all supposed to come together with one grand speech, but it felt like this thing was just speaking in riddles. Riddles, for the record, that didn’t make any sense to her. In a way it felt just like… Chatter.

That being said, that was why she was here to talk. There was always sense to be found in something and if nothing else--if she was gonna die here, as unlikely as that was, she wasn’t going to go out without having at least edged her way towards the truth.

As it circled her, she didn’t hurry to keep it in her sights, instead only lazily moving her head to spot it as it passed. She hoped she wouldn’t need much more than that.

Kida laughed a bit, just lightly enough to convey her amusement. Cause she was amused, mainly by the impression this thing seemingly had of her.

“That’s still not my goal,” She corrected, shaking her head. “But since you’re giving me the chance, I guess we’ll start with… What’s the point?”

Kida paused, raised an eyebrow. “Of this. To be clear. Not what’s the point of life--unless you happen to have answers for that, too.”

BILL CIPHER

“There is no point, that’s the point!” cackled Bill. “All of this--pointless. We’re just wasting our time here, all of us, you and me and this bag o’ meat down here.” He swooped down to Dipper, who stirred feebly.

“None of it has meaning, Kida-Kiddo,” he said, rising back up again. “Not my grand scheme, not the words that are writing out your life right now--everything’s just for the fun of it. Might as well have fun, ya know, if your very existence literally is just for plot purposes, amirite?”

<<That’s right. That’s not just from me to Kida--it’s me to all of you suckers there on your laptops and on your phones--your existence means nothing. Might as well have some fun, eh? (that ‘eh’ was for you, Sam, get it, it’s Canadian)>>

“We’re all gonna die--even me. I’ll fade out from imagination, one day, and be a memory of a memory. Y’all will too. Maybe they’ll think of us from time to time, games they played in their younger days. But we will cease to exist.” He turned away from Kida, now, looking up into the Mindscape--the twisting pathways that led to nowhere (though it could very easily be a foggy cloud of consciousness, though it could very easily be black nothingness, it just depeneded on what was written)--then swiveled back to Kida.

“So the point? To have some fun.”

KIDA

Kida narrowed her eyes at this thing as it spoke. Not maliciously, but more like she was doubtful of what it was saying. Cause, plainly, she was.

That kind of thinking irked her. And not just the whole nothing matters part of it--for which she had literally hundreds of years of teaching telling her otherwise--but just all of it. The bleakness of it up unto the driving force and the actions that came of it just didn’t make sense to her. If there wasn’t a point, wasn’t the joy of life arguing with the very fabric that said so? If there wasn’t a point, why did that seemingly justify terrible actions? If there wasn’t a point, did that mean that you shouldn’t have morals? That because nothing mattered, you were excused for your actions?

She didn’t think so.

“I--alright. To have fun. That’s fair.” Kida stepped forwards, not following it per se, but making her own path towards the nothingness beyond them. There wasn’t anything out there, was there? She--could ask that later. Maybe. Didn’t matter right now, since apparently nothing ever mattered anyway, right? Wrong.

She glanced over at the body on the floor--and then up at the triangle.

“But, of all things--why have fun like this? Why not something less…” She waved a hand vaguely through the air. “End of the world-y?”

BILL CIPHER

“Hey, no one’s dead--or even dying, might I add. Everyone’s having some fun! Got cool powers and new forms. Far as I’m concerned, this is the best apocalypse you guys have had in the past three years.”

If he could narrow his eye, he would’ve. Instead, it sorta just crinkled up slightly, and he drifted higher in the air, like a balloon that slipped out of a small child’s hand. He rose about a full Kida’s height above Kida, a full Kida’s length distance away from Kida, and grew to a full Kida’s size larger than Kida.

“Is this your plan, kiddo? Get me talking about my grand master vision? Not that I don’t mind talking--love it, in fact. I could talk about myself all darn day!” He cackled, rubbing his fingers together. “I’m gonna miss this--she’s gonna miss me, ya know? You all are, when this is done and over.” He sighed, dropping his hands down and hanging in the air for a moment.

He blinked, then shimmered a little, for no other reason than he wanted to shimmer for one last time possibly.

“Please tell me you’re gonna whip out that trident now,” said Bill. “I’d rather this was quick and gloriously gory.”

KIDA

Yeah, Kida thought, I sure was having a lot of fun watching my kingdom be destroyed over and over and over again. That--she was still painfully sour in regards to that. It was the kind of vision that required a letter home and whole bunch of extra money in express postage but that was besides the point. The point had to stay in the present. She couldn’t afford to have it go drifting off into the ether where this thing was likely to find a way to scoop it up and use it in its favour.

She didn’t want to be doing it any favours. Didn’t feel like it deserved that much.

Course, neither did she, which was why this whole thing was such a pain.

It rose into the air, and Kida--sat down. Making herself comfortable. As far as anyone watching could tell, she was unperturbed. Unsure, maybe, but not worried about it. She leaned back onto her hands and stretched out her legs in front of herself, crossing them at the ankles. Kida disregarded its last requests and tilted her head up at it.

“Who’s she?”

BILL CIPHER

“I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” cackled Bill. He peered at Kida, drifting a little closer. Maybe he’d indulge her.

“There’s forces beyond what you and your tiny one-dimensional brain can understand here,” he said. And if his voice could be kind, it dipped sorta-kinda into it now--not in an actual kind way, but like she was some small child and he was showing her how to do a basic task. “There’s dimensions within your own--then there’s ones that go above and below and all around. You can cross the ones in your own, but not above or below--if you even think about them too much, your tiny little mind will explode.”

He chuckled a little, swerving a bit down for dramatic effect.

“This was my way of pulling those above and below worlds to intermingle with yours, kinda, sorta,” he said, then turned back around. “That answer your question, kiddo?”

KIDA

Kida hummed under her breath. That was better than expected, actually. Two answers for the price of one--and extensive ones at that. This thing spoke of dimensions and higher powers and twisting all of these things to play along with its own sick little game. From where she sat, it seemed like it fancied itself some kind of god.

Was it, though?

Kida doubted an answer that simple.

“Mm, more or less.” She conceded, keeping most of her suspicions veiled inside of herself.

This thing was a--demon, probably. Given the runes and given the, well, the other demons running around Swynlake as she spoke, but it wasn’t anything like those.

(And for a fraction of a second Kida wondered if she had bitten off more than she could chew.)

“What about--” She jerked her head back towards the seemingly lifeless body on the ground. “What’s with the kid?”

BILL CIPHER

Bill had actually forgotten about Dipper. He glanced downwards, his body tilting slightly at an angle, his luminous pupil dipping towards Dipper’s still form.

“Oh, him? Yeah, well I needed a way into this world and Dipper here won’t admit it, but he wanted to know all about the aboves and belows and inside-outs and what not.” Bill straightened back up, eye crinkling, and shrugged his little black arms.

“A deal’s a deal, ya know? He gets infinite knowledge, I get to exist. We might be tricksters, but we hold up our ends.”

This was not entirely the truth of the matter; technically this time around, Milo had summoned Bill. Still, he’d gotten what he wanted -- his dead girlfriend. The first time round, Dipper had gotten what he’d wanted -- infinite knowledge. Never mind that it faded away when Bill had been banished. Dipper still had a sense of it though, a craving for something he could never quite know and never would know (which was enough to have kept the remnant of Bill there in the first palce, which was how the summoning this time had been easier; he just needed someone particularly desperate enough).

But enough exposition--

“He’ll be fine,” said Bill, dropping a little closer to Dipper, who let out a small murmur, and reached a hand to pat him on the head. “Just overwhelmed with infinite knowledge, ya know?”

He bobbed back up.

“Anyway, you a therapist or something? Tryin’ to psychoanalyze my plans for universal domination?”

KIDA

She shook her head.

“No, I’m just trying make sure I have all my bases covered, you know? The whys and the whats and the immediate courses of action and things like that...” The list of things like that  ran pretty straight forwards in her head as she compiled information.

Use the runes to do whatever the runes were used for-- because there had to be some point to them. Nothing appeared and disappeared out of nowhere to only ever be used at mantel decorations or coasters.

Take out the triangle (this one was still kind of wishy washy, though Kida wasn’t completely without ideas. It just kind of depended on number 1.)

Probably watch the plane disintegrate around her

Tend to the kid if he needed tending to, which, if he did, Kida hoped that that thing had at least been truthful in that he wasn’t that poorly off. Really though, why did she have any reason to trust it?

“So just to make sure I got this straight, you used the kid to get here, and upon arrival you took the world that was yours for the taking because--why not? That’s a uh--hell of a story. It’ll make for great content, you know?” Kida wasn’t actually considering posting any of the nitty gritty of this on her blog. It didn’t feel--quite right. She’d write it down for herself to remembered, but publishing things like this took tact that she didn’t have, and a open-book policy that she couldn’t quite uphold.

Maybe this one was just hers, for once.

She pushed herself off of her hands and crossed her legs in front of herself. She slipped one hand into her pockets, and came right back out easily with the three runes in the palm of her hand.

“You said infinite knowledge, yeah? Any idea how it all ends?”

BILL CIPHER

Bill did, in fact, know how it was going to end. He’d known from the moment he popped into this universe back in August -- no, even before that, when he was just a passing thought being pulled into creation. There was always going to be an end for him.

That’s how it had been in his first universe, how it had been in the ones after that (there were some weird ones out there, though, where that was not the case, but he sorta preferred the ones where it was), how it would be in this one.

Bill knew that everyone was expecting an epic showdown--lasers and lights and loud noises and the like.

Bill knew that it would end, not with a bang, but with a whimper.

And that he would be added as a footnote when they explained what happened to someone new. That they would talk about him still and they would say they missed him, but ultimately, he would just be words on a screen.

“It ends,” he said, simply. “I end.” He cackled a little, eye drifting up to the space of the Mindscape, the fixed it right on Kida. “Make it a good one, eh? Worth a read, make ‘em talk about us.”

KIDA

In hindsight, she shouldn’t have expected anything less. It took more than a conversation to get to know someone, but when this thing’s M.O seemed to be anything goes--Kida should’ve expected the same, here. She should’ve expected the solemn words, even as she had been hoping for the opposite. It was much easier to take someone out if you couldn’t find any sympathy. Kida had too much of it for her own good, she figured, but not enough to think twice about her plan. There was a pang, for just a moment, and then there were many more for the people still in town--for the rest of the world.

The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few and this thing had no right to take the world for it’s own just because it could.

Kida could feel it’s bulging eye staring down at her as she laid the runes on the ground all the same. There were three triangles on the ground, and one in the sky. How convenient. She clicked them together like a dream, and from the puzzle came a single triangle, with a perfect space in the middle.

“I can’t make any guarantees.” She said.

The runes began to glow with that same dull light as the spheres, and Kida took that as her sign to back up. She scrambled up onto her feet at the runes expanded and expanded and slowly righted themselves until they stood tall in the void, at which point they began to rise.

BILL CIPHER

There were things he could do to delay her.

He could conjure up a swarm of neon-colored squirrels, swirling in tornado formation and chewing up the very fabric of this reality into a million-trillion-gazillion squirrel-chewed pieces. He could call upon a storm of past-selves and current-selves and future-selves and alter-selves and a-whole-lotta other selves and overwhelm them all with the sheer selve-ness of the whole situation. He could blast them into a total other reality where they’d be suspended in time and space and words and not be able to move or think

or act or anything because they didn’t belong there and would not ever belong there, so they’d be in an eternal state of half-existence, existing in one reality but being in another.

But he couldn’t really do any of those things, because right as he decided on the squirrels, the final piece of it all -- the one that Kida didn’t know about, couldn’t know about -- was completed and in another reality, he felt himself violently shaken and tossed and in this one, he froze --

And Kida completed the triangles.

“Aw shit!” Bill cried, as the triangles locked together and rose into the air. His one eye grew wide as the triangles closed in around him, trapping him in the space between them. He let out a scream, low at first, but growing rough and loud, ripping through the air, through time and space, reverberating in the collective consciousness of the Mindscape.

(Feel that chill? The one you get out of nowhere in the middle of the day, when the air is otherwise warm? That’s Bill Cipher’s scream echoing through time.)

As he screamed, his lines bled to his main coloring, the yellow turning black, the black lines of his curves turning red--his eye inverted, the white turning black, the black turning white and expanding and flashing red as he struggled between the bonds.

“You don’t know what this world is,” he sneered and his eye flashed white-red-black-white-red-black-white-red-black. “You’re all just pathetic puppets used by them and they’re gonna leave you one day and you will cease to exist and this was your chance -- all of your chances -- to wake up to your bleak reality--”

His voice was cut off, as the runes closed in tigther and he was shook again in the other world (seriously? twice?)

KIDA

Kida shielded her eyes from the rapidly blinking light above her. Could whole planes shake, or was it just her? Was that the universe trying to burst at the seams or was it her heart breaking free from her chest? Either way, it felt like a lot. Kida was feeling a lot and that made it hard to focus on the task at hand.

The demon--and Kida was sure it was a demon now, she could feel it in the waves of energy rippling through her crystal. It was trying to protect her. She appreciated it--screamed and it’s voice rang out louder than anything she had ever heard before. It was inside her head and all around and in the air and running through the ground and nothing would ever be quiet again, she figured. So long as this thing screamed and struggled and cursed her out, there would not be quiet. The world would not be safe. If she stood there and did nothing, the world would not be safe. Not for herself, not for the kid lying half-dead on the ground, not for anyone.

She had to remember that and--try to do something.

Her crystal rumbled around her neck. There was strong magic in the air, and it could feel it, which meant that Kida could feel it too. It hummed through the Heart all the way back to her and from it there was a lingering sense of peace. One that told her, you know what to do.

Kida stepped forwards, and brought her hand down from where it shielded her eyes to wrap it around her crystal. She tugged and the chain broke loose.

“Why should I care?” She yelled out, holding the crystal tighter and tighter until the ruff edges dug into the palm of her hand.  “You said it yourself! There’s no point! Nothing matters! Not even you! So it’s about time you go back to where you came from!”

Kida opened her fist, and just like the day her mother had--gone, the light that spilled out of her crystal was blinding. She turned her head away and closed her eyes, but kept it pointed at the demon.

“Go HOME!”

DIPPER

Bill’s grip on Dipper loosened and the blackness that he’d slipped into for the past week or so started to melt away. He felt the ache in his body first, creeping from his sides, to the very center of being, then up to his face -- have you ever felt your face ache? Like not just your head, but your face --

There was a light. It was so strong that Dipper had to blink to see and then he heard that scream.

He’d heard that scream before--

The last time, when Uncle Ford and Stan and Mabel had blasted into the cave and wrangled Bill out of this plane.

(They hadn’t done it properly, but that had been the plan the whole time)

He scrambled to his feet.

There was a girl there and he didn’t know who she was but the light was coming from her.

y̤͞ ̙͠o̼̹̬̩ ̡͓u̗͈͠ ̜̩c̣͈̮̠̦͜a͙̘͚n̫̹̰̬ ̹͚̳̖͕͙s̨͓̻̞T̡͕̳̤͍ͅo̭͇̼P͓̩̘̭͝ ̮h̻̖̮̟E͏͇̦R̢

The voice echoed through Dipper’s head and he pressed his hands against his ears--he wanted it out, wanted it out.

He had sudden images of horrible memories--of Merida’s face, her eyes wide in fear; of Maui’s eyes wide in confusion; of writhing and spitting and holy water splashed in his face; of Professor Thatch’s desperate voice; of blood--blood from him, blood from Terence, blood from Maui--

s̡̟̻̹t̶̼̹o͖̣͍̠̙̤P̺̥̯̜̝̯̠ ̞H̤͙͎͍͍e̺̟͍͡R ҉̤̣̣͍̪o͕̠̙̬͜R̠ ̴͍̜͓̗Y͏̜͔̰̩̼̜͉O̵͉͉̼̣̟U̵̹̮̮͉̫̱ ̳̰͎̘̱͙W̮̫͕̖̼̺ͅI̞̜̟̫̙̣̗LL̤̙͚͎̝͖̰ ̥̪̖̹͔̝BE̞̺̜͈̥̰ ͢I͏̳̯̹̞N͍̲̖̰̹ ̼̩̯̳̫͙̀T̹͉̫̳̣͞H̰̩̼E̺̕ ̩̪͝D̗̱̖A̲̻͓͎̥̗R҉͇̩k̵̳̥

There were things he also saw--he saw three girls, a bit older than him, they were on a train. He saw laptop screens. He saw himself, too, and Mabel, too, in Gravity Falls, except everything was different, everything was the same, not really. He saw a man drawing. He saw business meetings (why did he see business meetings?)--

He could see all that and--

What was the point? Why did he need that? He had this reality and that was what mattered and he could discover all there was about this one and he had all his life to do that and there was no point in doing that now, not this way, not in this way--

He stood next to the girl and he looked up at Bill--the runes around him closing in smaller and smaller.

“Leave ME ALONE!” he yelled, voice hoarse, but loud and strong and echoing through the Mindscape. “I’VE HAD ENOUGH.”

Bill’s eye flashed back to white, his body flashed to yellow and the eye widened and--

If it could have looked sad, right now, it did.

But it was only a moment, could have been a trick of Dipper’s eye, something that the light altered, something that the hammering of his chest made him feel, something that the ties between him and the demon made him think, something that Bill was doing to make Dipper feel bad.

It was only a moment and Bill let out a wail as he was sucked into the space between the runes, which swirled a deep, bottomless, black.

And then, for a moment, it was quiet. It was still. Dipper took a shaking breath and for the first time in nearly ten years, his head felt silent.

And then, there was a loud sucking noise--the black portal between the runes swirling as all the weirdness, all the disasters and demons and chaos flew to the portal, getting pulled within, vanishing into the nothingness.

The place they were shimmered around them, as if it were fighting between being here and not being here.

And then--as if nothing had happened at all, Dipper and the strange girl were standing in the middle of Professor Thatch’s flat, sunlight streaming through the window, birds chirping outside, a clock ticking from somewhere he couldn’t place. There were noises--noises of life: the radiator in the corner, those birds, that clock, the pipes somewhere, the floorboards.

But his head, it was quiet.

He took a deep breath, his arm reaching for the back of neck, and turned to the girl.

“So, uh, that was weird.”

[smokeybrandreviews]

Smokey brand Postmortem: Harley Quinn and the Miscalculation

Harley Quinn: Birds of Prey is bombing in theaters and what i was apprehensive about, is coming to pass. All of this rah-rah, GRRRL-power, superficial, laughably toxic, feminism saturates this picture. And that’s fine. A little misandry never hurt anyone, especially with as much unapologetic misogyny that is rife within Hollywood. Still, there is a limit to and, while i didn’t mind the whole emancipation equal initialization angle this movie was going for, i can see why it would turn off so many others. We’re on the back end of the MeToo movement now and, in a world where Amber Heard has been exposed for the violent abuser that she truly is, the climate is a little different from when this flick was greenlit. It’s wild watching a marketing strategy trying so goddamn hard to alienate half their audience. Seriously, that sh*t was box office suicide but its not the reason why BoP failed. The media wants to blame sexist men for not supporting an all-women production but that’s not realistic. The demo breakdown for those who went to see BOP skewed heavily male. No, there are several reasons why and i kind of want to go over them here.

Issue 1: Feminist Marketing

The biggest issue this movie had was the way it was marketed. Besides the gung-ho drive in an attempt to appeal to that ludicrously vocal minority of third-wave feminists that don’t support sh*t outside of their own little echo chamber causes, it appears the WB did everything in their power to shoo away and semblance of testosterone. I noted this early, but that sh*t blew up in their face immediately. No one want to sit around and be preached at or two hours. I endued that sh*t because i enjoy comics and Margot’s Harleen is pretty legit but, goddamn! In a world of Nice Guys and Neckbeards, going so hard at that misandrist angle was a goddamn mistake. That, and the misleading push of Harley Quinn. This is not a birds of prey film and never should have been promoted as such. I could tell this was a Harley Quinn film immediately, but Normies sure didn’t. I imagine they wanted more Harley but saw the Birds top billed and decided it wasn’t worth the trip.

Fix: Better Marketing

To just say “Better Marketing” is kind of glib, but bear with me. There’s a lot to this. First thing first, that title should have never got approved. You want to lead with Harley, you lead with Harley. Hilariously, someone at WB thought so, too, and they changed the name. Personally, out the gate, i would have named this thing “Harley Quinn: Birds of Prey.” from the start, you set the expectation that this is a Harley Quinn movie AND assert that the BoP will have some sort of presence. The movie, itself, can still be exactly what it is, but that title change alters the entire expectation of that whole experience. Doing that also gives you an opportunity to promote this thing in a more balanced manner. Maybe don’t attack all the dudes that might want to see your flick with bullsh*t politics. I rather liked the idea of an all-girl gangster flick. It worked super well for Widows. If executed properly, you can even keep that whole Tarantino-esque vibe. But that might conflict with the second issue...

Issue 2: Hard R Rating

Everyone wants to be Deadpool but no one can be Deadpool. Look, i love the Hard R in my capeflicks. The aforementioned Deadpool was excellent and i absolutely love what Philips and Phoenix brought in Joker, but if you want to see how to do a proper R rated superhero film, look no further than Logan. Holy sh*t, that movie was good. and violent. and moving. I cried at the end of that thing. Shed me a man-tear, for sure. The thing about all of these films? That R was earned. You want to go Tarantino? You go full Tarantino. Bop did not commit like that. This motherf*cker was a “hard PG-13″. Seriously, the violence in this thing was akin to the violence in The Wolverine, a PG-13 flick. Why did they need that Hard R? Just to keep pace with the other Hard R flicks? See, that alienates your best bet at a profit.

Fix: go for that “Hard PG-13″

You want kids to see this thing, specifically young girls. Girls LOVE Harley, as they should. She’s become one helluva character. The growth shown in her comic persona is to be celebrated and this movie kind of touches upon that. 14-year-olds can’t get into your unnecessarily R rated film. You want those 14 and 15-year-olds to see your movie multiple times, and this thing had the potential for just that. Instead, they went too hard for that Hard R and it ruined a massive source of revenue. Besides, you already have a mature Harley show airing on that DCEU streaming whatever. The adults can check that one out, especially since it’s f*cking dope.

Issue 3: Character Interpretation

Harley Quinn has a very specific, very Snyder-esque design. You can’t shake that. Quinn is gonna Quinn. How the f*ck did the rest of these characters land on their respective situations? Hell, Cassanda Cain is “in name only” and that sucks! Cass is one of the dopest Bat-Kids in the fam and she’s relegated to that? Really? You barely even hint at Montoya’s sexuality, which is fine because it doesn’t define her, but to push this flick as LGBTQ, or whatever, without acknowledging the biggest L in the film seems disingenuous to me. And Huntress? Oh, my darling Huntress. You were the best thing about this movie and they didn’t even let you be IN the goddamn movie. Look, I’m all for creativity and letting creatures create but come on. At some point, you gotta give a little back to the fans, not just slap them in the face with such mediocre adaptions.

Fix: Better Characterization

Out the box, you should have NEVER adapted my girl Cass the way you did. Everything about this character is bogus. Where is my socially inept, traumatically mute, bad-ass human weapon? You give me a potty-mouth pick-pocket instead? For real? Nah. A much better character for this would have been Bluebird. How is Harper Row not perfect for this part? Considering her origin, she could start off as Harley’s protege and become better, actually become Blurebird and join the Birds later on down the line. How is that not a thing? And Montoya? Aside from a lack of screen time, maybe tie her into the plot a little better. Aside from a few throwaway line, what do we really know about her? Canary is fine, they did more than enough to give her character legs, but all of the Birds should have gotten as much time to develop. Speaking of time, my darling Huntress should have had WAY more screentime. She was SO dope and it’s a crime you didn’t give Winstead enough time to play with this character because she was having very real fun with her.

These three problems crippled any opportunity this movie had at being great. I’m sure WB thought they had a hit on their hands, or that the name “Harley Quinn” could carry this flick on it’s own but really? After Wondy and Aquaman, hell, even Shazam to a certain extent, you’d think these cats would have learned something. Instead, they opted to go hard with the Snyder-isms and the Box Office reflects all of that. This should have never been a BoP films. Margot should have definitely went for Gotham City Sirens. Still, we got what we got. It’s not good, but it’s not that bad, either. If they would have done the above three things, it could have been great. Missed opportunity.

[screamingforyears]

ALBUM OF THE MONTH: JULY ‘17

SEXTILE

‘ALBEIT LIVING’

FELTE

The Los Angeles based death-squad known as SEXTILE have triumphantly returned with the pristinely raw ‘ALBEIT LIVING.’

Sextile are the teeth, the brute truth, the harsh reality, the gritty glitz, and the creators of the mad mad world party record we need. The harbingers of bleached catharsis, consisting of the ridiculously attractive & stylish group of: Brady Keehn (vox/guitar/synth) Melissa Scaduto (drums), LA Eddie Wuebben (synths), and the newest addition Cameron Michel (guitar/bass), are trending upwards and with great reason. 

The group’s 2015 debut ‘A Thousand Hands’ was the perfect opening statement for a young band, one filled with a calling card of sorts (”Cant Take It”) and a surefire hit (”Visions of You”). That being said, they’ve returned two short years later with an album that is nothing less than stellar. What was once all purging gloom has given way to a matured and confidently playful group, but don't get it twisted, Sextile is still a tribal and feral brood.

That primal drive comes from Melissa Scaduto, not only through the floor shaking beats, but through her guidance, visual appeal, and aesthetic vision. Simply put, she’s the beating heart of the group, one that’s rounded out by Brady Keehn’s Cobra Kai-like bad-boy charisma, and Eddie Wuebben’s art damaged cool.

‘Albeit Living,’ recorded and produced by Keehn/Scaduto in the furnace-like Echo Park basement of Matty Taylor (Tennis System) flies by, which takes nothing away from its capacity or longevity, and in fact it only enhances its staying power by demanding repeat listens. There’s something to be said about a band who can capture your interest in short bursts of movement and anyone who follows The Clash surely knows that the best pop singles end around the 3 minute mark ("ok ok, don't push us when we're hot!").

THE RUNDOWN:

"One of These" retains elements of Sextile's past while peppering in their present & future. The guitars still saw limbs, as the goth unit cut loose across a manic 2-plus minutes, allowing the primal instincts that drive so many of Sextile’s songs to take over. From the raw opening of propulsive drumming (a thing the group have mastered thanks to Scaduto) to hell-scape synths, and Keehn’s endless vocal/six string assault, “One of These” is a pure exercise in catharsis.

The group show off a whole new and brighter side via “Who Killed Six.” The glammy 2:30 track is Sextile flexing some seriously fey bravado, and while the group have always had an immaculate strut, this time around the ciggy is bouncing along instead of being nervously dragged. Having already mastered visceral deathrock and gloomy goth, it’s refreshing to see the band so comfortable in new wavier territory. That being said, this is still Sextile, so you best bet your sweet ass that the bottom end is being held down by a primal beat and a drowsy howl, with crisp production and jangly guitars to boot.

"Ripped" is a relentless ripper, full of guitars, wonky electronics, a laser whip backbeat, while "Floored" is a fidgety thing of nerve riddled beauty. Scudato's fear inducing guitar manages to keep you on edge as Brady's treated purr is all you need to get you by on a lonely night, especially when corralled by electro hum.

"Mental" has a pump-up-the-jams arrangement that rises and longs to break the fuck out with some paranoia inducing fury, while "Crisis" continues the relentless surge with the slightest of breakdowns, that tiny moment of reprieve is a thing of beauty ("I'm losing......my mind, I'm losing....your mind.")

"Sterilized" is sinisterly delightful. A manic & breathy beast, where deathrock and new wave meet late at night to perform unspeakable acts upon one another. I found myself demonstrably head bobbing upon every listen ("can't shake it") while looking for the nearest dance floor thanks to the boogie down bass & drums. "Sterilized" allows Keehn to do what he does so well, that uptick coda (think "Can't Take It."), the melody of which is so fucking strong that I find myself walking around panting "Come on and sterilize me."

"Das Cat" is one, a badass name for a song, and two is a fantastic burst of start n’ stop tension, thanks to Scudato's infectious-as-fuck beat (which has to slay live) while Keehn rides the wave.

"Situations" blows out my headphones every time with its pulsing dancefloor neon and apprehensive tiny leather biker-jacket cool. Covered in synth scorched fingertips, “Situations” is a nervously meticulous beast and one that journeys through fun-house glare and sci-fi psychosis. Keehn engages you at arm’s length, taking the lead while allowing fits of six string jangle to further his lowly point of “thinking about all the other weird situations I had been in through course of my life.”

"AVC" is one helluva closing statement, in a true saving the best for last kiss-off. Sadly, the track doesn't take its name from the shitty junior college I attended, and instead stands for the far more suitable A Viable Commercial. The whip-like beat, the deranged purr of a vocal, and the humming electronics sounds like the creation of a madman locked in his room (which is fitting because the track was handled solely by Keehn in the studio).

Sextile have raised the bar for everyone on 'Albeit Living' as they establish themselves as Felte’s flagship group through hometown-hero sincerity and a cohesive album that never overstays its welcome.

And a quick shout-out/thank you to Sextile, who are a gracious & polite group of humble individuals, which is rare in this era of online celebrity....

[gopunksphilly-blog]

The Limelight...cuz' even us punks like to dance!!!

We’re feeling incredibly modest about the whole experience because the two kids from 4th Street are in very uncharted territory right now and we don’t even have our ‘Misfits’ to share the moment or shelter us from this newfound notoriety.

Thankfully, we have the Liverpool kids shuffling us onto the dance floor before our young DJ starts spinning again.  “OY’ you lot r’ lookin’ quite shell-shocked roit’ now.  Let’s get em’ bodies movin’…c’mon…git’ the blood flowin’!” Nigel yells, as Gem and I both shake the cobwebs off; promptly returning to just being two punks out having fun with some friends.   “Ay, get this, you lot.  I got a chance to chat up this young bloke at the tables, an’ this boy named Jordy, he’s done been to Manchester, Liverpool an’ is ‘riginally from Detroit.  All I’m sayin’ is, be prepared t’ be wowed by his second show!!”

Our young buck gets his second act going well with a jazzed up mix of Numan/Tubeway Army’s ‘Are ‘Friends’ Electric’, which sends Gem into the stratosphere.  “Birdie and my jam, Robbs!!  Let’s get moving,” she says excitedly while she sways her hips against mine.  She’s looking around at everyone dancing closely and gets the biggest grin.  “What a cool, mix of a crowd we’re in!  They all look awesome together.”  She’s right, it’s quite an eclectic group of races with punks, wavers, straights, gays, lesbians and there are definitely some cross dressers who could pass for glamorous showgirls in the club.  It’s like the United Nations of Bohemia in our midst, and we’re enjoying every bit of its beauty and decadence.  “A la vie Boheme, Gemma darling!!”

“You couldn’t be more right, Robbs!” she exclaims as our lips meet, with our tongues darting as wildly as our hands move over each other’s bodies.

Gem glances to her side and laughs out loud while the tribe mugs it up at our expense and Jordy keeps our enjoyable ride going, mixing bass lines together as Siouxsie’s dark dirge, ‘Israel’ now thumps through the club, much to the joy of the Goth contingent.  Nigel, Ian, Donna and Sharon are pulling off a real cool slow groove to the beat, so Gem and I try to match their steps while Jackie comfortably slinks in behind Gem, picking up from where she left off earlier, latching onto Gem’s hips while they both move dead sexy with one another.

We’re having a grand time dancing, plus taking turns hitting the bar for drinks, with Gem and I making most of the runs, since the bartender seems to have enjoyed our performance.  “Here you go, rock stars, on the house!” he yells every time we arrive and my wallet is enjoying his fantastic generosity.  

Wonderkid Jordy keeps the party going with some revamped, incredible mixes of Berlin’s, ‘Sex’ and ‘Metro’ and Animotion’s, ‘Obsession’,  just to name a few and when we take a short break from dancing, more club regulars stop by to remark about our playing.  We can’t tell them enough what a stroke of luck it was to run into Joan Jett at the Plaza and how it culminated into a not to be believed experience for the both of us.  In between more shots and beer being purchased for us by some appreciative music lovers, another group of club kids ask Gem for her autograph on the concert stubs. “Thank you so much for this, guys! I must admit, I’m overwhelmed…” she adds with a hint of embarrassment.  

Jordy keeps the music driving hard with more slick mixes and beats, causing Nigel to exclaim, ‘this is the future, you lot.  You heard it ‘ere t���night…the future!!”  The Liverpool girls start dancing around Gem, taking turns matching her every move.  There’s not an inch between them and Gem laughs, blushing again when its Sharon and Donna’s turn to give her a little ear nibbling.  It’s par for the course in a night of revelry at the Limelight.

 *******

             We’re nearing the two o’ clock hour and I can feel my heart racing again.  Nigel, Jackie and the Liverpool tribe have been incredibly fun company and we’re having a blast kicking the jams to a sick mix of ‘The Chase’ from the movie, ‘Midnight Express’ and if you listen closely enough, it sounds like Jordy has pieced parts of Pink Floyd’s, ‘On the Run’ throughout the song.  Nigel and Ian are right about this; if Jordy is a taste of what’s yet to come from the Brit and Detroit sound, we are in for some fucking unbelievably brilliant club music.

Gem starts eyeing the cages overhead and grins at Jackie.  “Wow!  That looks like so much fun but the girls look exhausted when they get lowered down. All in all, I still bet it would be so bitchin’!”  Overhearing their conversation, Nigel and I seem to be having the same thought, adeptly tracking down one of the bouncers Gem and I had met earlier backstage and inquiring whether she’d be able to dance in the cage.  Within minutes, one of the cages is lowered to the floor while Nigel and I deftly maneuver back to where the girls and Ian have Gem immersed in conversation.

Nigel gives them the nod as they spin Gem around to observe a now empty cage, awaiting her arrival.  “Your cage awaits, Punk Princess!” I exclaim while the girls push her towards it. “C’mon now, Gem you gouh’geous girl! Show us Liverpool birds a thing ‘er two!” Donna yells excitedly.

“Robbs, I could just kill you and Nigel!!!” she screeches while laughing hysterically.  

“As I’ve said before, Gem, just promise to enjoy the day!” I yell as she’s lifted away.  “OH MY GOD, I WILL BABE!!” she bellows, before being slowly hoisted into a stratosphere of morphing lights and sounds.

Jordy does a brilliant segue into another exceptional dance tune from the decadent disco times and one of Gem’s favorites; Donna Summer’s ‘I Feel Love.’  I don’t care what generation you’re from, if you want a song that will make anyone turn into a massively sexual being, this is the one. Hot bodies bathed in sweat twist, curve, and countour, enveloping sensually throughout the venue and all I can say is that our Detroit born whiz kid has hit the jackpot with this mix.

Gliding towards a better vantage point to spy the goings on with our caged, twirling, punk ballerina perched in the heavens above, Nigel and Ian pair off with Donna and Sharon, with Jackie enjoying the chance to grind her dead sexy hips slowly into mine.  “’Ello again, love,” she coos.  “Let’s look skyward and see what your beautiful gal is up to.”  

Just as I’d surmised, Gem is spinning like a top because this song drives her senses into overload!!  Whenever they play it at City Gardens on club nights, Gem just tears up the floor.  The spotlights moonbeam glow darts and dashes between the cages, bathing the girls in massive rays of hot, white light. Jackie keeps perfect pace with me but there’s no aversion of our attention from the auburn haired hellcat above us.  Her long strands catch the light, like a phoenix rising from the ashes.  While her hands grip the bars in front of her, she swings her hips furiously to the synth mixed beat, stopping just long enough to let loose another high kick; resting her stiletto heel on one of the long crossbars of the cage.  

Jackie and tribe gawk in amazement at the cat like dexterity Gem displays for such a tall girl on those death defying stilts.  “I ‘ave no reservations ‘bout tellin’ you this, Robbs, but I am purely, sex’ly infatuated with yoh’ beautiful, tall Gem!” she laughs before pecking my neck.  Dancing even closer with her now, I can only smile while replying, “I’m starting to get the feeling that EVERYONE is, Jackie!” as the Liverpool rudes continue their barrage of wolf whistles in pure admiration of their new, wild girl ‘rude’.

           As Jordy continues his blazing, seismic rendition of Summer’s classic, the club patrons are eating up his spinning prowess and it shows; the sexual heat of this dance floor and the balconies above is just blistering!  I’ve heard from people before that on any given night, the Limelight VIP rooms or the maze of hallways and hidden spots can be a hotbed for drugs and pleasures of the skin, so I can’t even imagine what must be transpiring within the darkened nooks and crannies of this former house of worship during this debaucherous roller coaster ride our talented spin master has generated tonight.

           Nigel’s having a ball observing the modern, Roman orgy unfold in our midst but he’s especially enthralled with the auburn fireball still twirling madly above.  “Christ, mate, your Gem is fit n’ fuckin’ brill’!! ‘At birds got this lot eatin’ out the palm ‘oer hand an’ that isn’t no tosh!  GO GET ‘IM, SWAN!!!!” Gem falls to her knees, swinging her hair wildly in the spotlights now orange, sun glow while continuing to put on quite a sensual exhibition.   Swiftly getting to her feet after doing some jaw dropping moves she starts spinning around again, stopping only long enough to do a feline stretch across the lower bar while smiling beautifully to the adoring masses, the Liverpool tribe and me.

“Shite, Robbs, the only thing missing in ‘er is a stripper’s pole for Gem to swing on!  Jesus, she’s dead sexy!!!” Jackie laughs again.   I can’t agree more, I’ve seen my girl tear up a dance floor before, but what she’s doing in that cage is purely mesmerizing; especially to this eighteen year old guy and Jackie knows it!  “Baby, yoh’ in sto’ for a helluva’ ride tonight from yo’ bird,” she whispers seductively into my ear.  “Too right, I’d looove t’ be on the other side o’ ‘at wall t’nite!!”

The explosive synth beat of the track fades into tranquil lucidity, the beat slows to an intentionally laborious pace and Gem waves for the bouncer to lower the gilded dance cage and before we know it, our dancing dynamo has returned to the Limelight’s floor.  More club-goers, especially the punk kids, engage Gem when she steps out and of course Donna, Sharon and Jackie are there to shower the object of their affection with hugs and kisses.  Jackie eventually nudges Gem towards my direction as our spin master Jordy maintains the faint, slow synth beat.  “Damn girl, you were effing’ incredible up there.  I don’t even think I want to know where some of those moves came from,” I coyly remark.  

“Rob Cavelli, what are you suggesting, you dirty dog?” she inquires with a giggle.  “Actually, Stace worked as a stripper for a while and showed me a move or two when I was at the house on South Street.”  I can’t help but chuckle at the thought of then, nineteen year old Stace showing my Gem, at the age of thirteen some ‘bump and grind’ stripper moves, but like Gem has previously stated, her and my shedding of childhood innocence happened quite a few years apart.

The music ramps up ever so slightly in pace and sound; before we know it, Godley and Crème’s new hit ‘Cry’ slowly vibrates through the sound system.  Nigel wraps his arms around Sharon, while Jackie and Donna encircle a happily contented Ian.  Gem slides in comfortably closer to Jackie, whispering something into her ear which has our ‘rude girl’ giggling.  “’Ave fun you two!!” she replies sunnily, before spinning away with Ian in a euphoric dance of sensuality.

“Come with me,” Gem whispers in my ear, as she pulls me through the club, circumnavigating around the exquisite sight of couples from all walks of life grooving slowly to Jordy’s wonderously enticing, extended spin.  Arriving hastily to a flight of stairs, she turns to me, her bewitching, cat-like, emerald eyes stopping me dead in my tracks.  “Come on, baby boy, keep up with me,” she whispers seductively in my ear as the chase up the stairs begins.  

Winding through small rooms, dark hallways and crazy, little nooks; past couples shrouded in the shadows, Gem finally stops when we reach our own little dark corner away from the world.  To one side, a black enclosure; a fortress of solitude from the crowds, to the other side we can still see the dance floor below, the bodies massed together in lovers embraces; the spotlights weaving to and fro, illuminating the stained glass in an otherworldly radiance.  “Gem, this is extraordinary!  Where did you even find…”

Her eyes once again burn through my essence while she takes hold of me, shrouding me inside her secret hideaway.  “Shhh…Baby boy, this has been the most memorable day of my life.  Let’s enjoy this moment, enraptured in the music. I’ll love you forever, Robbs.  I know you’ll never break my heart.”  

She reigns me in as our lips meet, the music, the church, the lights skirting past our secret hideaway, now becoming an incredible backdrop to the tenderness taking place between us.  The two, rough and tumble punk kids of the Philly streets; the Prince and his Princess swathed in the torrid, fiery rapture only discovered in true love’s kiss.

An excerpt from Rich Cucarese’s (that’s me!!) upcoming, literary fictional novel, ‘PUNKS’...Chapter 25, ‘The Towers of Gold’

Donna Summer’s ‘I Feel Love’ ...one of the sexiest club songs ever...even to a punk, club kid!!!  Enjoy!!