#He's been in a constant state of dread since the beginning

[edwardallenpoe]

wait. Wait. What. People are saying that??? Have they WATCHED Good Omens????

Aziraphale is SOOO intelligent. He is SO compassionate, he is so kind, hell, he can PHYSICALLY FEEL EMOTIONS (take his reaction at the nun/training facility) and yes, he is totally autistic coded and the way he processes and expresses emotions are affected by both his TRAUMA (did we forget about the SIX THOUSAND+ YEARS OF TRAUMA THAT ANGEL HAS PACKED IN HIM???) and neurodivergent traits. Not only does that affect him, but, like, up until the end of the first season, he was completely and utterly tied to Heaven and the threat of damnation and destruction loomed not only above his head but Crowley's, and even though they're technically not employed by heaven and hell, they still have that lurking fear that heaven/hell can pop up any moment, and season two's WHOLE PLOT is trying to not get destroyed by heaven/hell!! Sure, Aziraphale might not know about The Book Of Life, but he damn well knows that he could FALL, or GET BURNED BY HELLFIRE (see s1's trial where Crowley and Aziraphale stood in for each other) he may not know the specifics, but he knows enough, and he's doing his best, and what he perceives as "the best" is pushing Crowley away and sacrificing his life on earth to go to heaven to try and make a difference.

If Aziraphale is emotionally intelligent, literally everyone has no chance.

I've seen people talk about Aziraphale having 'no emotional intelligence' and being a bad person/hating on him for the final fifteen/etc. HELLO? That final scene was all of his religious trauma (or whatever the equivalent is in angel terms) being pushed to the front because of his decision. Also no emotional intelligence??? Okay. Okay. Yeah, the incredibly autistic-coded character has "no emotional intelligence"? Not cool to say that imo. Aziraphale is insanely emotionally intelligent, but also struggles with six THOUSAND years of trauma and yearning and fear. I'm so passionate about understanding Aziraphale's decision and not hating him for it because it was necessary. Sorry this is so ramble-y, but it's kinda late and I needed to talk about something Good Omens related. Also it made me angry as an autistic Good Omens fan who loves that so many people agree Aziraphale is autistic.

[skyahri]

Arranged Marriage |Zuko X Reader| HC

Summary: Caught up in his personal conflict, Zuko completely neglects his marriage.

Warnings: Arranged marriage, forced marriage, whatever. Mentions of violence. Angsty Zuko and reader. Fem pronouns.

Masterlist Ko-fi

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You'd married Zuko a little over a year into his reign as Fire Lord. You're the oldest daughter from a noble family, and the council decided it was best if Zuko married someone well liked by the community.

He didn't take it well. He was still hoping Mai would come back to him, and you being there completely obliterated those chances.

Not that there was a shot to begin with. Mai had made it abundantly clear that she wanted nothing to do with Zuko, even if she admitted to still having feelings for him.

Your relationship was staged to be perfect in the eyes of the people. Young love against all odds sort of thing.

The marriage ceremony was beautiful. Your robes were elegant, the flowers were perfect, and even your soon-to-be husband was handsome.

Zuko was charming towards the guests, really selling the story and gaining a lot of trust with his people. He was awkward but personable, something everyone ate up.

But he wasn't like that with you.

As soon as the two of you were away from public eyes, he didn't so much as look your way.

You slept in different rooms and ate at opposite ends of the table. He excluded you from as many duties as he could, stating something about him not wanting to concern you.

Life in a palace was pretty isolating. The only people you could talk to were servants, and even then, your topics were extremely limited.

You'd taken to the gardens as much as possible. It felt nice to be outside and even better to see the plants and animals.

Tending to the flowers was one of the few things you were allowed to do without constant eyes on you. The lonely atmosphere felt intentional instead of forced.

But after a year of this, not even the newly budding flowers could heal your disdain. Your once bubbly exterior had been chipped away by the dread and disappointment that lingered in your heart.

You were truly just a shell of your former self by this point.

There was no change with Zuko. He'd made no effort to get to know you or even just not hate you. Any attempt you'd made in the beginning to soften the relationship had been put out the moment it left your lips. It seemed like public pleasantries would be the extent of your marriage.

You'd long given up on trying to befriend the older women who waited on you. They had no desire to be anything more than the people who got you through the day.

You'd given up on trying to sneak away with the kitchen staff to the market. They feared being held responsible for you, even if you claimed to be plenty capable of taking care of yourself.

All that was really left to do was to just stay quiet and look pretty. The sad fate of the Fire Lord's wife.

You'd been laying in bed all morning. It was one of the few days where nothing was planned. No meetings, no guests, no events- nothing.

Well, at least you thought.

"Miss Y/N, Lord Zuko has requested your presence. We must get you ready immediately."

They'd dragged you out of bed and stuffed you into a pair of your nicest robes. They're doing your hair up and rushing to cover your face in makeup.

"Why am I being summoned?"

"The Avatar and his friends have arrived. They were the ones to request you."

"I see."

It made sense. You had met the Gaang at your wedding, and they were everything you'd expected; kind, loud, and passionate. Just like Zuko was said to be.

At the time, they'd promised to come by often, but you hadn't seen them since. You'd heard something about the rebuilding of the air temple and having some unexpected issues arise, so they just hadn't had time until now.

You met Zuko at the front gates. His friends arrived just after, allowing the servants to take their things to their rooms. Without a word, Katara grabbed your arm and dragged you away with the other girls. You turned back to see the same happening with Zuko and the boys.

They pulled you all around the surrounding area. For the first time in a long time, the dread started to fade away.

You'd bought some new incense, hair pins, and seeds for the flower beds. They were small purchases in comparison to the others, who had gone all out with new clothes, trinkets, and a heap of spicy snacks for Sokka.

You'd suggested several times over the last few hours that it was time to head back to the palace, but only now that it was growing dark did the trio actually listen.

Just as you had begun packing up, a string of explosions started on the next block and made its way towards the plaza you were in.

Toph was quick to make a stone barrier, but that didn't stop the cloud of soot from staining your skin and clothes.

A group of men had emerged from the smoke and revealed themselves to be Ozai supporters. Not everyone was pleased with the fundamentals Zuko was running the country on, so rebels had started causing a bit of an uproar.

Katara, Toph, and Suki did their best to take the men down swiftly, but that didn't stop you from getting injured in the process.

Your forearms had been severely burned when you'd covered your face from an attack. Katara offered to heal you, but it'd have to wait until you got back to the palace where her spirit water was.

The trip back was uneventful. Some of the local guards stationed in the city had insisted on escorting you guys back, which at this point you couldn't deny.

Apparently, word had already gotten back to Fire Lord Zuko, who was waiting at the front doors of the palace for your arrival.

He immediately stepped forward and picked up your hand, letting the scorched fabric fall and reveal your burn. He did the same with the other and sighed.

"Please give us the room."

You watched as everyone filed out of the room, the guards towards the exit and your friends towards the south wing.

"These are severe,"

He cupped your face in his hands and tilted your head so he could get a good look. His thumb swiped over some of the soot on your face.

You were confused by his actions, but the pain from your burns created a bit of a blur in your mind, keeping you from thinking too hard about it.

"The others couldn't protect you?"

"They did what they could. I apologize for the hassle-"

"Why are you apologizing? None of this is your fault."

You opted to stay silent. You weren't sure what to say. This is the longest conversation you'd had in private since you'd met, and you were finding it hard to navigate.

It was silent for a minute. The vibe was awkward, and you desperately wanted to hide away from all of it.

His face contorted slightly, like he wanted to say something but couldn't. You didn't pry. It didn't feel like your place to ask.

"Why don't you head to your room for a bath, and I'll have Katara meet you in there once you're done."

You nodded and made your way down the corridor. You stripped down and opted to just toss your clothes in the trash. Between the ash and scorch marks, there was no saving anything.

The second the water touched your wounds, you winced. Tears pricked your eyes as you watched small bits of charred skin go down the drain. The pain quickly went from a sharp sting to almost mind-numbing. You sat down and let the water just run down your body while you waited for the brunt of the discomfort to pass.

In your hazy state of mind, you hadn't heard the knock on the door, so you were surprised when Zuko entered in much more casual clothing.

When he saw you hunched over on the shower floor, he didn't say anything. He moved to the side of the tub and went to touch you, but you weakly swatted his hands away.

"I'm not comfortable with you being in here whole I'm naked."

"I'm your husband-"

"You're a stranger."

Ouch. Harsh but fair, and he knew it.

"Look, I know I haven't been good to you over the past year, and I'm sorry. We can talk about it more when you're feeling better, but for now just let me take care of you."

Satisfied with his response, you stopped resisting his help. You let him wash your hair and scrub your skin. His touch was gentle despite how rough his hands were.

He never once made you feel uncomfortable. He was thourough but never lingered. It was almost as if this was a normal occurrence.

When he was done, he offered you a towel and left you alone in the bathroom to get dressed. When you entered your bedroom, Katara was on your bed, but Zuko was nowhere in sight.

"Just me. Sorry to disappoint."

"No, no. I'm glad you're here."

You sat in front of her on the bed and let her examine your burns. She positioned your arms for easy access and opened her canister. You watched the water glow and the skin slowly heal itself. It was amazing, nothing like anything youd seem before.

"So," she broke the silence, "Has he warmed up to you at all?"

You were surprised by her words. You weren't sure how much they knew or what all you should say. Last thing you wanted to do was incriminate him.

Sensing your hesitation to respond, Katara clarified her question.

"I know everything, at least, from his side. You can be honest with me."

"Honest?"

"Honest."

A small smile crept onto your face.

"I think you're friend is an ass."

"I couldn't agree more."

You told her everything; the loneliness, the isolation, the lack of, well, everything in your relationship and life. She listened, something you're eternally grateful for. It felt nice just to get it off your chest instead of suffering silently.

"Today was the greatest day I've had in a long time. I got to leave the palace and talk to people and for once it felt like my husband didn't hate me."

"Zuko doesn't hate you."

"Could've fooled me."

"He doesn't hate you. Just talk to him. I know he has a lot to say, and it seems you do as well."

Once your arms were healed good as new, Katara left your quarters and returned to her own. You'd crawled under the covers and passed out, completely exhausted from the day.

The next day, you took Katara's advice and decided to speak with Zuko. You woke up early, before the sun had risen and made your way to his room.

He was surprised to see you, much less in your nightwear at such an hour. He invited you in nonetheless, where you then entered and decided to sit on his bed. You patted the spot in front of you, and he hesitantly sat.

"Katara said we should talk."

"Okay."

Sensing that he wasn't going to be the one to initiate anything, you decided to get the ball rolling.

It was a long conversation. Zuko confessed a lot of things, mostly about bitter feelings towards life and guilt over his actions. He apologized for everything and listened to everything you had to say. He made a lot of promises to be better.

He stuck to his word. He began including you in anything you were welcome to. Dinners became more personal, and eventually, you started sleeping in his room like a proper married couple.

By the time team Avatar had visited again, things had visibly changed. You were both happier, and your once fake marriage had become real. You meshed into the group just fine, making the pseudo family that much bigger.

All thanks to a simple conversation.

[luvrgreyy]

LAMBS TO THE SLAUGHTER, i

leon kennedy x religious f!reader

word count: 2.5k summary: small towns, small minds. masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

next chapter

18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE. religious themes, religious trauma, forced conformity, mentions of neglectful/abusive parents, age gap(reader is 19, leon is 27), spying on neighbor, alcohol consumption. there will be smut in future chapters.

a/n: wooooo i’m finally done!!! been working on this since late april/early may, and im so glad i get to finally show you guys what i’ve been working on these past few weeks. PS donations are super duper appreciated and they really motivate me to write more. <33

you disliked sundays. growing up, you had grown to dread those unfulfilling hours spent in church, but the early mornings were the worst.

your parents, staunch believers and church officials, had raised you on the principles of religious devotion, making it a non-negotiable start to each week.

your aversion to church was not born out of rebellion or a lack of faith, but rather, it stemmed from the fact that you've always been perceived as different. you were an outcast, a black sheep amidst a flock of white. the townsfolk, with their narrow-minded views and an unsatiated hunger for gossip, saw your eccentricity not as a unique characteristic to be celebrated, but as an anomaly to be scorned.

at first, your parents had brushed it off, attributing it to you having a rebellious phase. though the snide comments and complaints proved too much for them to ignore.

sunday dresses in demure pastel shades, polished mary janes, and a bible clutched in your hands became your uniform. they hoped that the facade would be enough to silence the wagging tongues. and with every layer of lace and propriety they added, they hoped to smother the you that didn't fit into their mold of perfection.

you’d frown every time you recalled the countless times you’d spend cooped up in the stale, stuffy church, the air thick with saccharine hymns and pious chatter. the suffocating confines of the pews made you yearn for any excuse to escape.

and yet, you would swallow down the discomfort, plaster a convincing smile on your face, and try to blend into the sea of devout worshippers.

despite your best efforts to conform, your parents' reprimands were a constant reminder of your shortcomings. "fix your dress," your mother would chide. "straighten your socks," your father would command, a sigh escaping his lips as he looked at your disheveled state. and always, always, "tidy your hair," would be their unanimous complaint, their hands reaching out to smooth your unruly locks into submission.

as the church bells tolling signaled the beginning of another soul-sucking service, a sense of dread would settle in your chest. the early mornings meant rising before the sun had even begun to paint the sky, where sleep still clung to your eyelids.

you reluctantly sit beside your parents, a sense of suffocation washing over you. the stagnant air, tinged with the scent of incense, felt heavy with the weight of forced piety. you’d force yourself to sit up, the yawns trapped in your throat, as bleary eyes strained to focus on the sermon droning on in front of you. the morning service continued as usual, blending into an excruciatingly tedious routine.

each and every time, you would silently count down the hours, minutes, and seconds until the final amen was uttered.

the minute the pastor would proclaim, "go in peace to love and serve the lord," you'd be out of your seat and trudging home with your parents.

the open sky, the whisper of the wind, and the rustling of leaves were your sanctuary.

the neighborhood filled with rows of neat, uniformly built houses, their well-kept lawns and identical facades creating a picture-perfect tableau of suburban tranquility.

however, a single house stood out like a sore thumb. it was a stark departure from the typical architectural sameness, unkempt front yard overrun with weeds and unruly foliage.

you scrunch your nose as your gaze settled on the eyesore, the lawns left untrimmed, windows grimy with neglect. but this sunday was different.

the old 'for sale' sign that had been staked it’s front yard for what seemed like forever had gone. in its place, a few boxes were piled haphazardly on the front porch.

“didn’t know we had new neighbors,” you’d mumble as you pass by the house.

you caught your parents exchanging glances before you’d hear your mother’s hushed tone. “something kennedy, heard some of the ladies from church talking ‘bout him.”

him? a man? you furrow your brow as you process the information. 'him', your mother had said. the new neighbor, was a man. curiosity gets the better of you. you make a mental note to peek out the window later and try to catch a glimpse of him.

“what’s he like?”

your inquiring tone is met with a grimace from your mother, her demeanor already reflecting her preconceived notions.

“not good.” her hand reaches out to adjust your skirt, her voice laced with a disapproving frown. “people like him are rude, uncouth, and quite.. unsavory.”

unsavory? what did that even mean? were they saying he was trouble? a delinquent?

your father merely grunts in agreement, his eyes fixated ahead, avoiding eye contact. “people like him ain’t meant to be in places like this,” he spat out.

"we don't want you talking to him, y'hear?" your father adds, his tone firm and reprimanding.

"he's nothing but trouble. the last thing we need is him rubbing off on you."

your mother chimes in, her tone echoing the sternness of your father. "we don't need you gettin' roped into any of his nonsense."

you let out a silent sigh as the conversation comes to an abrupt stop.

you reach home, the silence only broken by the faint clinking of keys as your father opens the door.

evening arrives, the afternoon sun hangs low in the sky, its rays of orange and red angling through your bedroom window. you're left with an hour before dinner to fill.

boredom claws at your skin, leaving you itchy and unsatisfied. you drag yourself out of bed, your feet sinking into the plush carpet. restless legs carry you to the front window, where you perch yourself on the sill, eyes scanning the neighboring yard. you squint, trying to make out any details through the dusty glass.

and then, you see him. leaning against the porch railing of his front door, he's lounging in a pair of faded jeans and a plain black t-shirt that hung loosely off his broad shoulders.

he stretched, his back arched, and let out a loud yawn. for a moment, you simply stared.

he's not what you were expecting. so different from the uptight men in your town. more relaxed, more casual. the loose-fitting clothes couldn't hide the defined muscles that rippled beneath his skin.

and as if sensing your gaze, his head snaps sideways to look at you. just for a second. his eyes, sterling blue, are locked onto yours.

you quickly duck behind the curtain, cheeks flushed a deep shade of red.

you couldn’t help it, really. you wait a few moments before peeking out again. hoping he didn’t see you, hoping he’d be gone.

you peer out the window once more. and he's still there. your heart skips a beat as your gaze meets his again. he raises an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on his lips. like he knows you've been watching him. you quickly drop down behind the curtain, cheeks burning crimson once more.

you spend the rest of the evening avoiding eye contact with your parents, the shame of being caught ogling the neighbor burning hot under your skin.

you can't focus on anything. television, chores, even dinner becomes an impossible task.

that night, you find yourself tossing and turning. thoughts of the neighbor cloud your mind. what was he doing just standing there? why did you get so flustered? sleep eludes you as you toss and turn. finally, in a fit of restlessness, you throw off the covers and slip out of bed. padding down the hallway in your nightgown, you pause outside your parents' bedroom door. the faint noise of their gentle snores drifts out.

continuing on, you make your way to the front window. pulling back the curtains, you peer out into the night. his house is dark, no signs of life. a gentle breeze stirs the leaves of the trees between the houses, causing the moonlight to dance across the lawn. you let the curtains fall back into place, a strange longing bubbling up inside you. what is wrong with you? you scold yourself. get some sleep. it's just your silly imagination running wild.

you wake up late, sunlight streaming in through the window. silence greets you, a rare treat with your parents having already left for work hours ago. stretching lazily, you sit up in bed and run your fingers through your tangled hair. yawning, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and pad downstairs.

you wander into the kitchen, pouring yourself a bowl of cereal. as you eat, your gaze drifts to the window. the curtains billow gently in the morning breeze.

the idea comes to you as you're rinsing your cereal bowl. what if you baked him a welcome gift? a peace offering for spying on him like a creep? an excuse to see him again? yes, exactly that. it's a sweet gesture. a kind thing to do. you can apologize and introduce yourself properly.

you'll bake a batch and put them in a cute tin. that'll show him you're friendly, and apologetic. perfect!

you rummage through the kitchen cabinets, gathering up flour, sugar, eggs, and butter. the simple recipe is one your mother often makes. you follow the instructions, the repetitive motions of creaming and stirring calming your nerves. the aroma of baking cookies wafts through the house as you slide the tray into the oven. while you wait for them to cook, you grab a package of decorative bags from the pantry. filling one with the warm cookies, you tie the top shut with a twine bow.

you're dressed and ready to go by the time the cookies have cooled. a pale pink sundress with white floral embroidery adorns your small frame. the skirt hits just above your knees, while the straps hold up the bodice. your hair is pulled back into a half ponytail, a few strands framing your face. you look like a living doll. an adorable, innocent thing.

you slip on a pair of pink slippers you owned and snuck outside, keeping to the shadows as you make your way to his front door.

the cookies are pressed into your palm, the brown paper bag crinkling softly as you walk. your heart in your chest as you climb the steps to his front door.you take a deep breath, straightening your posture.

you ring the doorbell, shifting your weight from foot to foot. seconds tick by, and you ring again.

many moments pass. you begin to worry he's not home. just as you're about to turn and leave, the door swings open.

he stands before you, a towel draped around his shoulders, his chest still bare from showering. hair damp, he looks even more handsome than before. those piercing blue eyes meet yours, an eyebrow cocked inquisitively.

"can I help you?" his deep voice rumbles.

"hi, mister kennedy...i’m from next door. i, um..." you fumble, feeling stupid. "i saw you moving in yesterday and wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

“…and also to apologize for spying on you. I know it was really creepy and i’m sorry. these are just some cookies i baked to say hi and apologize.” you offer the bag, cheeks flushed.

he looks at you, really looks at you, for the first time since opening the door. his expression softens, and a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "aw, thank you. that's real sweet of you." he takes the bag from your trembling hands, his fingers brushing against yours.

he pauses, studying your blushing face.

"so you're the one who's been peeking out that window, huh?” he pauses, peering inside the small bag. "chocolate chip, my favorite."

“yes, i'm really sorry. wasn’t trying to be weird or anything,”

“’ts fine, dollface. didn’t really mind that much,” his gaze drifts up to your face, studying you intently. "you wanna come in for a sec? i just got out of the shower but i can throw on some clothes,"

you hesitate for a moment. enter his home? now? it didn’t feel right. you shake your head, feeling silly. you're just here to apologize, right? get the cookies out of the way and go.

“you sure? i know the it’s a mess right now, but there's some drinks in the fridge if you want one."

it's not like he’s asking to come over for a date or anything, right? it's just being friendly. you chew on your bottom lip, looking unsure. entering his home feels like crossing a boundary. but he did invite you... and it does feel kind of weird to just stand on the porch.

"yeah, o-okay... just for a second,” you say finally, stepping over the threshold.

the interior is just as he described — a mess of boxes and random items not yet unpacked. but it doesn't feel unfriendly. he leads you to what appears to be a living room, gesturing for you to have a seat on the couch."i'll just go grab us some drinks," he says, heading towards the kitchen. “you drink beer?”

you shake your head. “no, thank you. i don’t drink.” you sit down on the couch, smoothing your skirt over your thighs. the cushions are still wrapped in plastic, giving them a slippery texture under you.

"alright, no worries. just juice or soda then." he returns a moment later, now fully clothed, with a can of beer and a glass filled with juice or soda or something. you can't quite see. you take a sip, feeling a bit more at ease as you sit on his couch. it's not as bad as you thought it'd be.

“thank you, mister kennedy.”

“just leon, please. callin’ me mister makes me sound old,” he plops down beside you, close enough that your arms touch. his thigh presses against yours. it feels intentional. you shift uncomfortably, trying to put a little space between you. this is getting way too cozy.

“right. sorry, leon.”

he chuckles, taking a swig of his beer. the two of you sit in silence for a minute, sipping your drinks. it's actually kind of nice, just sitting like this together. you find yourself gradually relaxing, too. before you know it, hours has passed.

you blink, surprised. where did the time go? you glance at the clock on the mantel.

“oh, it’s getting late, i should probably get going," you say, standing up abruptly.

“mhm, probably a good idea,” he stands up, towering over you.

“i’ll walk you out," his hand brushes against your lower back as he walks you to the door. the light touch sends a shiver down your spine. you feel his eyes on you as he sees you out. the air feels charged. you quickly scurry back home, feeling his eyes piercing the back of your head. and you don’t dare look back.

[lakes-writting-rambles]

Out Of Choice, But Not Out Of Reach - #1 Inevitabilities And Such Unfortunate Things

words:2889

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Sometimes your destiny is completely out of your hands – Danny Fenton couldn’t seem to find a way to avoid learning that lesson. First; when he was shot when Slade invaded the headquarters of the League, and subsequently his family, was using, while the fight between Slade and Grandfather was going on, he used the chaos to get to the Lazarus Pit before he bled out; a second time when he died in that godforsaken portal; the most prevalent one was definitely his first meeting with Clockwork, there he noticed that it doesn’t matter how hard you try, if it isn’t meant to be, someone will interfere. It doesn’t mean he won’t still do things as before, but now there’s forever the dread of knowing.

It’s been about a year since what he, Jazz, Sam and Tucker dubbed “The Dan Incident”, and Danny can't seem to stop thinking about it. Well, not really about Dan, no, but about Damian. He can’t stop thinking about how Dan likely ended up killing Damian – it’d be inevitable, and, considering the state the future he had been shown was in, he hoped Damian went early on, really, he also hoped it was quick, like he tried to do when he was in the League.

What really bothered Danny, though, was that he couldn’t help but wonder if staying with the Fentons even was a good idea at this point. Surely he has learned that misfortune would follow him anywhere he went, so why wait for the shoe to drop? Before the accident, he was relatively safe to live the rest of his life in Amity, sure, it was kind of a deadend, but it was tranquil, so he couldn’t really complain. Now, though? He was in constant danger inside and outside his house, being half dead meant no place with the living and no place with the dead. He should leave while he still can.

The League isn’t likely to spot him, considering it’s been years since his “death” and he probably looks different enough from Damian now… which is something he’ll have to think about later. And the threats of dissection (vivisection?) by his parents keep increasing – he doesn’t want to fuck around and find out.

So, the League is probably not an issue anymore, staying seems to get more dangerous each day and he’s pretty sure most ghosts only come to Amity to fight him.

Nevertheless, running away also came with a plethora of problems, for one: leaving Jazz and his friends. When he got adopted into the Fenton household he tried not to get attached to anyone. He couldn’t keep that up for long, as a touch starved 9 year old that came from a violent background and got thrown into a very loving family. First, he got attached to his parents, then Jazz, Tucker, and finally, Sam. He doesn’t regret it, not one bit, but it might make this choice hard to make – since the easiest way to run away would be to fake his death and forgo any contact with everyone from his old life. Maybe they’d know he wasn’t (fully) dead, maybe they’d just be extremely miserable, he wouldn't know. 

Another issue is that he’s the current Ghost King, and oh boy doesn’t that complicate things? He keeps getting more powerful, which means keeping his cover is getting harder – an unsettling and overpowering aura surrounds him now, and sure, it reacts to other people’s emotions as well as his own, which in theory should make it easier to hide, since everyone in Amity seems to have differing opinions on his two  personas, but the fact that his aura is big enough that others take notice is concerning enough on its own; he’s control over his abilities needs to be impeccable or he risks getting found out; and he’s pretty sure some of his more ghostly traits are beginning to bleed over into his human form. He also needs stable access to a portal, since he needs to take at least two trips per month to the Ghost Zone so he can check over things with Clockwork and parade around to remind the citizens of the realm that he is their king; he can’t officially take over since he’s still alive, once he’s entirely dead he will, but for now the observants act as regents and that’s more than fine by him.

And third: he’s not really sure where he should go. You’d think Gotham would be his first option because of his father, but he has too much media presence, so Danny’d be brought to the spotlight. Does anyone in Amity care about Gotham? Not that he knows of. But it’d still be too big of a risk. Plus, Tucker really wants to work in Wayne Enterprises in the future, he’s sure that it’d become a problem in no time.

So… what to do? Money isn’t a problem, since he has access to all the treasure hoarded by Pariah Dark over the centuries, but that’s not all he has to consider. He needs some sort of safety net, that much is obvious, and since he won’t be able to count on his regular support system, he should fall back on his blood.

Maybe he could go to Blüdhaven? It’s close enough to Gotham that he can go there if he somehow needs to come into contact with someone from his biological family but not enough that he’d be immediately clocked… but then there’s Nightwing… as long as he doesn’t get  into any trouble it should be fine, right? It’s not like there’s a city without a hero nowadays… Urgh, nevermind, he’ll come back to these thoughts later, he’d rather not spend his rare moment of peace coming up with what to do after he fakes his death.

Sometimes fate decides that things should be ultimately out of your hands – but Damian Al Ghul Wayne fights with all his might to avoid such a thing becoming a rule in his life. When he came to live with his father, around 7 years ago, he held out hope that his twin had made it and would eventually return to his side. That never happened. And now Damian isn’t sure how to approach the topic of Danyal with his family, so he just… doesn’t. Even after all this time, it feels wrong to keep the memory of Danyal to himself, he should be celebrated, even if his death was premature and almost a decade has passed.

Danyal had died the same day as Grandfather, which is why his grief isn’t questioned –, even if the Bats are well aware of his distaste of his Grandfather’s actions, now that he’s recognized them for what they were. Damian isn’t sure if it’ll ever come to pass, because in quiet moments like this, he thinks of what could have been.

His twin was never needlessly violent, and his killings were virtually a mercy, compared to the others in the LoA, even himself. Maybe he would have adapted faster than Damian did, maybe he would have made a better Robin, maybe they would still wake up together and share little moments of quiet.

It’s all speculation, all it will ever be. They never found his body, but even now, years later, the image of his pierced chest is burned between the other twin’s eyes, it wasn’t likely to survive a wound like that, and even if he did, the bloodloss would’ve killed him regardless. But to a 9 year old, the what ifs often overshadow reality, which is why Damian had kept his hopes up, afterall, one of the many teachings of the League was that “if there isn’t a body then one should always consider the possibility of the victim having survived”. But now, at 16, he could see it for what it was, the foolishness of a child longing for what is gone – he’ll never admit it, but in the darkest, deepest and most hidden part of his heart, Damian still has a little bit of wonder, almost completely squashed, but a bit of hope of seeing his brother once again remains.

There’s no use for pondering at the moment, time doesn’t stop and soon one of his siblings will notice his absence at breakfast and come to pester him, thus he gets up and readies himself to face another hectic morning.

“If I were to go missing, where would you search for me first?” was not a question Tucker was ready for, like, at all, but especially at two in the afternoon on a saturday. Danny hadn’t been the same since that thing with Dan or whatever they had dubbed it, he didn’t change much, but he seemed to get lost in thought more frequently, and Tucker didn’t blame him! Really! But man, what went through his head was morbid at times, and he maybe shouldn’t voice those out of nowhere.

— Uhh I guess… your parent’s basement? — awkward silence fills the air, it’s the most obvious answer, but not a thing they normally consider outloud. A grimace crosses Danny’s face for a second.

— No, I mean, if I …ran away. — he says, and there’s some hesitancy. Obviously, there’s more to the question, but Tucker can’t for the life of him figure out what it could be.

— I’d guess Wisconsin, since it’s close by and you might be able to rely on Vlad if push comes to shove, but that is not likely at all, — Sam starts before coming to a slight pause to think. — Maybe Missouri?

— Why…?

— Cause it’s close by, it’s not like we’d let you get far before going after you. — she smirks and gives his arm a little punch.

—  I think we’d find Danny in Florida, actually, — Tucker chuckles before continuing — it’s the only place where he wouldn’t stand out.

— Oh, screw you. — He says before he lunges at Tucker.

Sam watches for a bit, the conversation got to her more than it did to Tucker. She decides that now isn’t the time to worry about it, she doesn’t think Danny would leave them behind without saying anything, not after all they’ve been through, but it did leave a sour taste in her mouth. To stop herself from spiraling down a rabbit hole, she jumps – literally jumps – into the struggle. 

That is how the three friends end up scratched all over, with dirt and grass stuck to their clothes and silly smiles on their faces, looking up at the sky as the clouds pass by. Moments like this used to be common, but with the chaos that is Amity Park nowadays a chance to just relax and joke around as friends seems more and more like a luxury.

Their peace is interrupted when Danny sighs, a defeated sigh that usually comes after his breath fogs – which means there is a ghost nearby. A shout ruptures the quiet and kills any hopes for the rest of their afternoon.

— BEWARE! I AM THE BOX GHOST!

— Alright, — he gets up and stretches. — Just wait for me, I’ll be back in a sec.

Sam and Tucker look at each other, worried glances on both ends – they didn’t even need to say anything. Things will never go back to the way they were before, that is something all three know intimately. Danny died. Everything they have witnessed is bound to leave some sort of mark as well. And there are the Fentons. Sam and Tucker knew Danny and Jazz loved their parents, but at this point it seemed inevitable that someday they’d turn on Danny, and it seems that even if he doesn’t talk about it, it’s also something he believes.

It feels unfair, Danny seemed to have come from a bad background and was settling into his own skin and fully letting his guard down for what felt like the first time before the accident. And wasn’t that heartbreaking? He’d adjusted to the life in Amity early on, but to actually enjoy himself? That took some 2-3 years, and to trust that he could always rely on the people around him? It had just started happening into the beginning of their ninth grade. Then the portal opened and he had to put some of those walls back up to protect himself, not just emotionally, but physically as well. Now, they’re in 11th grade, they should be looking for colleges and studying for entrance exams, but instead, Danny is thinking of running away.

They know how their friend thinks at this point, and it’s undeniable they’ll likely have to say goodbye soon.

Dealing with the Box Ghost wasn’t hard, but it sure was annoying. After the fight (if you could even call it that) ended he went back to Sam and Tuck, they laid on the grass for a while longer, ultimately, they got hungry and headed to the Nasty Burger and ate before parting ways.

Danny plops face first into his bed. Well… he could have approached that with more subtlety. Maybe it was his subconscious trying to get them to look for him, or something, to prepare them for his absence. That sounds too close to something Jazz would say…

He turns around, putting his arm on his forehead. His thoughts keep getting away from him, always back to Damian – would he have liked Amity Park? Probably not, if he was being honest with himself. He couldn’t even see himself liking it there when he arrived – in fact: He had hated it. The city was so calm it felt forced, the Fentons so loving it felt like a trap, the kids lacked any malice at all, everything screamed danger at him, like he was about to be ambushed. Nothing ever came to that, just a nice, cozy, little town. 

Well, until the portal opened, that is. 

He stops and just looks at his ceiling for a bit, the old glow in the dark stars already discolored and lacking any actual functionality, there was no reason for them to remain there but the attachment to what they used to be, kinda like him. There was no escaping his current reality. No escaping his need to desert this city, this family, this life. 

Danny sits up and looks around his room, which for the last few years had become his safe haven. He looks at the stained carpet, marked by his many sleepovers with Sam and Tuck, he looks at his ceiling fan, that was cracked from the time the trio had tried to recreate the solar system on it, he looks at his closet, his posters, his desk, everything that was proof of the life he had lived here.

He needs some water and something to eat before setting his plan up.

As he heads down the stairs to the first floor he hears his mother’s soft voice coming from the kitchen.

— Oh Jack, I’m so worried about Danny, — the phrase startles Danny, he turns invisible and intangible, floating a bit so as to not make any sound, — his ecto-contamination has only gotten worse over the years… how can we be sure he’s okay?

— Honey, I’m sure Danno is fine! He must be building up resistance!

— But what if… what if it’s fusing to him? What if there’s no reversing this? — His mom is chewing on her lower lip, clearly distressed. 

At the sight, his dad softens up and hugs her, his voice comforting as he speaks, — We’ll make sure he’s fine, Maddie. We might not know what happened, but we know each other and we know what we’re doing, we’re experts in our field. 

Danny can’t stay there anymore, they know he has ecto in his system and they know it’s getting worse. They know and they want to “fix” him. He’s completely and utterly fucked. 

Alongside his nervousness there is also newfound resolve. He quickly phases into his room, grabs his thermos, maybe two shirts and a pair of pants, he shoves it all inside an old backpack he hasn’t used in years. He will need to dispose of his phone, taking anything electronic with him will leave a trail and he can’t have that. Hopefully his parents don’t have his ecto signature yet, he doesn’t think he has the time to get rid of it if they do.

He checks the kitchen again, they aren’t there anymore, likely back in the lab, then. He has to leave through the front door, to not raise any suspicions. Now, how to make this realistic? Maybe he can fake being murdered? No, Amity doesn’t really have that type of violence. Maybe he can fake being a casualty in a ghost attack? But he’d have to damage public spaces to do so and he doesn’t want to endanger anyone else… Fake getting kidnapped? It wouldn’t be the first time it happened, even as a human.

He could also just up and leave. It’s not like Amity has any actual investigative police force… Maybe he’s complicating things too much. He needs to go before he has time to chicken out. His parents will probably make a move on his ecto contamination within the week and he can’t be there for that.

— Bye mom, dad, be back in a bit! — and so, he shuts the door – leaving his house for what will probably be the last time.

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

Inevitabilities And Such Unfortunate Things > Those We Leave Behind

AO3

[iztea]

Can you please tell me what mouthwashing is about I keep seeing posts about it everywhere and I wanna know more but Google has been entirely unhelpful in describing me the plot of this game

it's baiscally. peak horror. i wish i were better with words to describe just how genuinely disturbing it is but not in a cheap jumpscare gorey way

The overall atmosphere has this looming feeling of unease that leaves you in a constant state of dread; it's akin to what i imagine hell to be like tbh: constant anguish

it's mostly a psychological horror, but the visuals delve into surrealism and the grotesque. There's also some really effective body horror that mainly presents in the form of the "mascot" (the burned and bandaged guy that you see in fanarts) that suffers a lot of (undeserved) physical and mental pain. They have you feed him pain medicine and he makes these verrrryy hardto listen sounds and we also feed him his own leg at some point and,,, cut him up and erugh. Honestly, in the beginning, I thought that Curly (the burned guy) was just some sort of alien-creature-failed experiment thing but it's actually the ship's team captain that suffered an accident at the hands of the guy we play as. But since he cannot talk (given his state) we shifted all the blame on him, simply because we are jealous of him. Curly is a very good man, whilst the guy we play as is this horrible piece of shit which just. adds to the tragedy of Curly's (and all the other team mates') situation and the feeling of hopelessness. It's not fair, you feel sorry for him, and you can't help him either. Quite the opposite: since we're playing as the "bad guy" we are forced to,,, torture him. There is no happy resolution to any of this..ah Did i mention they are stranded in space?

There's more that happens ofc. Think of any type of dreadful horror theme or trope and Mouthwashing probably has it

[naamahdarling]

MY medical update:

I am beginning to feel like I will never reach the end of anything. I am legitimately folding like a wet house of cards. My mental health is being profoundly negatively affected as my identity as "a unique and vibrant human being with a meaningful life" is increasingly subsumed into a deeply trauma-adjacent and depersoning identity as "a patient", with all the associated expectations that I will repeatedly and with minimal complaint allow people I barely know or have never met access to my emotions and my traumatized and marginalized body. That is not safe space within which to exist. Medical professionals, even the very kind ones, often forget the toll that "care" can take. (Bad ones disregard it altogether.)

My unusually high degree of emotional awareness allows me to see what is happening, and even allows me to cope with it very well, but "very well" is still not enough to make this sustainable over the long term. I don't actually know where to go or what to do from here.

I am torn between wanting to get all of these appointments out of the way as quickly as possible, so that I can relax without anything hanging over my head, and spacing things out just to give myself room to fucking breathe even though that means I will always have something lurking in the near future, causing me dread. I've run the math in my head over and over and I still can't work it out. There are too many unknowns, and too many variables, and too many ways things could go wrong either way I go.

I don't even know if there is a right choice. I don't know if there is a best answer. I've never been under this kind of pressure for so long before, I have been struggling with one thing or another since before the beginning of the year, and it is genuinely starting to do what I believe could turn into lasting harm.

I had a long and helpful talk with my boyfriend tonight, and while it did not fix much, it did help me to understand that the constant pressure on me is making it difficult for him to be here for me as much as he would like to be able to, and that's obviously distressing to him. That hit me really hard, because that is exactly the position I was in earlier this year trying to get his medication refilled and trying to help him deal with a deeply incompetent dental clinic.

I very much appreciate that he shared that with me, and I probably will try to find a way to slow things down and space things out, because even if I don't know that is what is best for me, if that is what is best for him, that's what I want to do. I've been so overwhelmed trying to manage my own emotional state that I sadly have not stopped to think about the effect this has had on him. I do feel guilty about that, but the important thing is that he let me know and I heard him.

I am very tired, and I'm praying that next week is uneventful. I don't have anything scheduled, but that doesn't mean that something annoying or even actually horrible might not occur.

Right now I'm going to have a snack and go to bed and hope that the pharmacy refills my meds tomorrow so that I can go back to having 30% less ADHD.

[williamsonnawfc]

See You Again

When your loan contract with Barcelona is up you instantly begin thinking about how it will effect a very special relationship you've created with Alexia.

You live in my dream state Relocate my fantasy I stay in reality You live in my dream state Any time I count sheep That's the only time we make up, make up You exist behind my eyelids, my eyelids Now I don't wanna wake up

You knew your time at Barça would be cut short. You wished it could last for the rest of your career, live out your football days in your home with the one you loved. However, Arsenal being Arsenal insisted you come back to the club as soon as they found out about the first of their two ACL injuries this season. As a central midfielder you had a constant pressure to meet the expectations of the club ever since they found out Alexia would be out for the majority of the season with her own ACL injury. All you wanted to truly do in life the moment you found out about it was wrap her up in a big hug and nurse her back to the Alexia that could lead her team out of the tunnel on the weekend and win knowing she captained that winning team. But the universe always has other ideas.

It was on your lunch break when a member of staff approached you asking you rather politely if you would follow them. In a instant as you realised where they were leading you your mind began to run at 150 miles an hour running through different encounters you'd had over the course of the previous week wondering if you'd broken any of the clubs rules. Your thoughts were brought to an immediate halt as you now stood outside the president's office chewing on your bottom lip, hands slightly trembling as the member of staff opened the door slowly to let you in. What you found inside brought you instant confusion, there around a conference table sat the president of the club, Jonatan, Jonas Eidevall and your father. There was no hiding from the girls who you were and who your father and his side of the family were being the owners of FC Barcelona and of the women's side too, many thought he bought your place on the team until they saw how you played and realised you had done it all on your own. 

20/20, 20/20 vision Cupid hit me, cupid hit me with precision I wonder if you look both ways When you cross my mind (Yeah), I said, I said I'm sick of, sick of, sick of, sick of chasing You're the one that's always running through my daydream, I I can only see your face when I close my eyes

You didn’t know how to feel when they told you the news that you'd be returning to Arsenal after almost 8 years. You had an instant feeling of joy at the thought of seeing some of your old teammates and one of your best friends, Leah Williamson. Almost instantly after you felt dread and fear, fear at how you were going to tell your teammates here and Alexia - you dreaded that most. You also dreaded settling into a new environment a new team, a new home. 

You politely asked if you could excuse yourself from training for the rest of the afternoon so you could break the news to Alexia and begin packing seeing as you had to leave for London on Friday and today was Tuesday. After gathering all your gear from you locker you began the silent walk through the facility towards the door that would lead you to your car. 

As you heard the loud laughter of your teammates who you now saw as your sisters you considered turning around and acting as if you hadn't just been told the heartbreaking news, but your mind instantly went back to the hazel eyed, brunette that you'd spent pretty much everyday of the last 8 years with knowing she was most likely sitting, leg propped up on the couch watching trash tv telling Nala all about what she wanted to do with you when her leg allowed her to, as that's all she'd talk to you about somedays. Always planning for the future, my Alexia. Tears threatened to fall as you thought of all the moments you'd miss with her as you'd now be almost 1000 miles away from your love but you pushed them back forcing yourself to look like nothing was an issue as you'd subconsciously got yourself safely to the home you shared with Alexia. You got out of your car before walking up to the front door putting the key in twisting it to unlock it. 

Can I get a kiss? And can you make it last forever? I said I'm 'bout to go to war And I don't know if I'ma see you again Can I get a kiss? (Can I) And can you make it last forever? (Can you) I said I'm 'bout to go to war ('Bout to) And I don't know if I'ma see you again

“Im home, mi amor”, you shouted into the house whilst kicking off your shoes and placing your training bag down. Walking through the house you noticed that the brunette you loved so much was passed out on the couch cuddling Nala, whilst she continued to sleep you chose to make food for her for when she woke up. You decided your mama's famous paella that both you and Alexia loved so much. So 40 minutes later when the sleeping beauty woke up you had a plate full of her favourite rice dish ready to give her. You carried both of your plates as you passed one to her you sat down next to her.

“Why are you home so early cariño?” You heart instantly began to break as you realised this wouldn't be your home by the end the week, your home would be London the sheer thought of it sent you into a mental panic and Alexia being Alexia instantly picked up on it. “What's wrong amor? Did something happen at training? Did someone say something to you?” You turned to look into those hazel orbs that communicated so much more than her words, they communicated her love, concern and behind it all her fear.

“Something happened, but I want to clear up straight away it was not the girls.” She sighed a breathe of relief knowing that the girls weren't bothering you inter absence. “Okay if it wasn't them then what was it?” You hesitated for a minute, braking eye contact and beginning to play with the rings on your hand, specifically the promise ring Alexia got you a year into your relationship. “They want me to go back to Arsenal, Friday would be my last day here for I don't know how long”

All Alexia could do in that moment was stare in disbelief, she was certain her cariño was playing a prank on her it was a very stupid one, one that would ultimately end in her demise if it was a prank but by the look on your face she knew this was real, very real.

“I only have one thing to ask of you.” Alexia instantly nodded in return. “Can I get a kiss? And can you make it last forever?” Alexia instantly leaned in connecting their lips in a passionate kiss that said more than just I love you.

CHAMPIONS LEAGUE FINAL

3/6/2023

ARSENAL WFC V BARCELONA FEMENI

Can I get a kiss? (Can I get a kiss?) And can you make it last forever? (Oh, forever) I said I'm 'bout to go to war (Go to war) I don't know if I'ma see you again (See you again) Can I get a kiss? (Can I) And can you make it last forever? (Can you) I said I'm 'bout to go to war ('Bout to) And I don't know if I'ma see you again

Walking out at Wembley was a feeling that would never go away, it was euphoric. The hymn began and the handshakes as well as the coin toss took place all before the referee’s whistle blew signalling the start of the first half. Barça instantly had possession of the ball allowing the one and only Alexia to get them one up however we were able to equalise thanks to Frida by the time it was halftime. Alexia assured me in a text last night that even though it was her first game back in the champions league I wasn't to go easy on her and by the time the second half began going easy on them was in the back of my mind. All I cared about was winning, we were going to win this. I had to make my sacrifice worth it. 

3 goals in the first 30 minutes of the second half. That's all it took for the new Champions League winners to be decided, Arsenal had won the Champions League. Arsenal had beaten Barcelona. The referee blew their whistle to signal and everyone dropped to their knees in joy or in sorrow, for the girls in red it was joy and for those in yellow it was sorrow.

Apart from one, she felt both. the girls on Barça’s side were her sisters, but so were those who played for Arsenal. She was pulled out of dwelling over that the a certain Irish woman picked her up and began running around with her on he shoulders making the younger girl giggle before being placed onto her own two feet and captured into a bone-crushing hug. “You did this for us Señorita!” the Irish woman screamed in her face. “Only for you my leprechaun!”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw her amor consoling those on her own team as they beat themselves up over the defeat believing they could've played so much better. Somehow she had managed to escape the Irish woman and was able to walk over to the girls specifically Alexia, her Ale. Before she could say anything she was pulled into another bone-crushing hug “I’m so proud of you, cariño” was mumbled into her neck. “I'm proud of you amor, you played so well.” Was the response she thought would be fitting, “I don't want to think about my performance all I want to think about is when I'll see you again.”

“Make this kiss last forever and you'll see me everyday for as long as we both shall live.”

[mothwingwritings]

I'm thinking of that type of reader, sweet and naive but so morally and mentally broken after Yujiro's violence that she may not realize that her strange relationship with her father is not normal at all.

A naive reader who doesn't understand why everyone, especially her brothers, look on in confusion and horror when a huge horrible mountain of muscle kisses her in front of witnesses and maybe even touches her all over. Just for their reaction.

And Hanma brothers, who stand there just shivering, each having different obscenities in their minds about their stupid sister, but they try to behave appropriately, blowing off excited steam when left alone.

I love the way you think, anon. (´༎ຶ ͜ʖ ༎ຶ `)♡

(I apparently can’t answer asks without spitting out a small story, so I apologize. I have no idea how to shut up and this is why it takes me so long to answer lit rally anything! (ᴗ ͜ʖ ᴗ))

WARNINGS FOR INCEST/STEPCEST/UNHEALTHY FAMILY DYNAMICS PLEASE BE ADVISED!!!

You've been so sheltered your whole life, holed up in your home by your mother who lived in a constant state of fear that your father may find you. You never understood why she would chose to procreate with someone she believed was so awful, or what was even so dreadful about the man to begin with. She kept everything from you, shooting you an icy glare if you so much as uttered his name. If she hated the man so much, why were you even born? It all seemed so unfair.

Whenever you looked outside and saw a father walking hand in hand with his daughter or when you watched a tv show with a supportive and kind father figure portrayed in a loving home, you would feel a pang of jealously, be overcome with sadness. Why couldn't you have that? You spent all of your youth home schooled, constantly moving from place to place for as long as you could remember, never staying in one home for more than a year. It barred you from any normal social interaction you should be having at your age, kept you from any lasting friendships. Since an early age you felt like half of yourself is missing, and you didn’t know what to do about it.

All you really have are your brothers, both of whom you love very much, and you know love you in return. But even they have been mostly barred from you by your mother, kept away in fear that their presence may summon your father and ultimately lead to your demise. You feel stagnant, suffocated, and unable to grow-like a shell of who you should really be.

But then one day, something changes. You wake up to a man in your bedroom, imposing and dominant, leering over you with a horrible smile as soon as you wake up. It’s alarming, and you found yourself struck with an innate fear as soon as you witness him. However, you note that your mother is also in the room, hidden away in the corner. Though she refuses to look at you, her presence feels reassuring and gives you an instant clue to who this man is.

This man introduces himself as your father, and though you are still incredibly leery of this situation, the joy you feel over finally meeting him clouds your better judgement. When he asks you to follow him, you concede without much prodding.

From there your life changes drastically. You get to see much more of the world then you did under your mothers care, and while that in and of itself is quite exciting, it also fills you with a trepidation that you have never felt previously. Because of that, you usually end up clinging close to your father’s side when you are out and about, feeling much more secure when you have him around for protection.  Often this seems to cause him irritation, and you have found out quite quickly that when your father is upset nothing good will come of it. You’ve seen what happens to those on the receiving end of his fury, been on that end quite a few times yourself, and it’s the worst kind of hell you can imagine. The first time you witnessed Yujiro’s true rage was also the first time you could truly grasp your mother’s life long concern over you, and the realization hit you like a ton of bricks. This is why she had raised you the way that she did, shielding you from the monster you didn’t realize your father was.

But your new life wasn’t all bad, and there were moments when your father actually showed you kindness, treating you like true family. He’d take you out to lavish restaurants and resorts, bought you pretty clothes that you never dreamed of owning. You had access to salons, your hair and makeup done up in ways you yourself would have never had the skill to accomplish. You were no longer a child, but you had also never felt so… mature. The lovely clothes he provided you hugged you in all the right places, accentuating features of yourself you previously concealed. Thick mascara and cherry lips made you look like an almost entirely different person, someone much more alluring than you ever imagined you could be.

In certain rare instances, your father would even show you affection. The hugs and kisses weren’t how you envisioned they would be- much more intrusive, something you would expect from a lover and not a family member. But he assured you it was fine, that this was all normal, that other fathers just didn’t have the courage to truly appreciate their daughters like he did. He told you the only children he had ever had were sons, so you were special and needed to be treated as such.

He wanted everyone to see just how exceptional you were, witness how gorgeous his baby girl was. So when he paraded you around the underground arena he so often frequented, pawing at you with that devilish smirk on his lips, kissing you so deeply you felt like you were choking, you couldn’t quite understand the strange looks you got from the people around you. Sure, his heavy handed doting felt a little uncomfortable, but shouldn’t these public affections be better received? Maybe the people watching were just shy, or like your father said, not brave enough to handle this type of flagrant love.

… And maybe you could convince yourself of that for strangers, but when you caught a glimpse of your brothers during these public moments of intimacy, a pit would form in your stomach.  It was like staring into a tempest, a swirling miasma of revulsion and anger reflecting back in their piercing gaze. They had never looked at you with such disgust before, and you couldn’t help but feel as if you had done something horribly wrong.

You HATED feeling that way. The guilt was overwhelming; you couldn’t stand the thought of Baki and Jack being upset with you. You knew it had to be in part due to your closeness to Yujiro, you knew they never were big fans of the man, and their distaste only seemed to grow the stronger your bond with him became.

You felt as if your family was finally coming together, you didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize this new life. You would have to talk to Baki and Jack about it later-you were willing to do just about anything to get back in their good graces.

[mechanicalowls]

trapped in the hotel room

a terrornoss oneshot

ao3 link

rating: m

summary: brian is stuck in a hotel in canada at the beginning of covid. he decides to call someone he cares about to pass the time.

warnings: explicit nsfw content, masturbation, graphic descriptions of sex, swearing, cheating (don't cheat on your partners guys it ain't cool)

18+ CONTENT AHEAD: YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

~~~

Dreadful wasn't even a good enough descriptor of how he was feeling. If there was a word worse than dreadful, even that couldn't describe all of the emotions Brian was feeling. Terrible, awful, rotten, he was just bad. No side stepping.

He had been stuck in that hotel for a good couple of weeks at that point, the queue for those seeking approval to re-enter America was longer than a line outside of a strip club at Happy Hour. Brian was terribly bored. He'd watched his entire Netflix catalog front to back twice, scrolled as far as he cared to on YouTube, and attempted sleep more than he ever had in his life.

He'd called Lanai so many times that he could audibly hear her annoyance with his pestering. He knew the second he returned home she'd be all over him for the foreseeable months, but she had a right to be frustrated. She had her own problems to deal with, nevermind her boyfriend constantly calling her at inopportune times just because he was bored and lonely.

He called his friends too. Of course he did, and they were all too keen on joking about his circumstances. Naturally, joking was everyone's way of coping with the problems the pandemic was beginning to give them. Upon hearing how Lanai was getting annoyed at his numerous calls, Brian didn't wanna risk the same with his friends either.

He'd called Nogla and Seth each twice, he'd had a really long call with Clyde, and a very brief call with Marcel. He'd had about ten calls with Evan; almost as many as he'd had with Lanai. He was terribly worried about the man. Ever since any sort of pandemic was suggested by the news, he'd been holed up in his house, getting groceries and other necessities delivered. Brian was pretty sure Evan hadn't seen or felt unfiltered sunlight in at least two months.

He'd been worried about Evan long before the virus struck. While he always had an air of indifference to his voice, he found the Canadian sounded completely monotonous most days. It was no secret that he was depressed, everyone could see it, and hear it. He really only had Nogla, Brock and Brian to play games with, as the others moved onto the big trending games as they came. They still played together of course, but not in the same way as they once had.

All that stuff with Craig certainly hadn't helped his mental state, especially since he'd been the criminal's first target before he found Brian to be an easier kill. Maybe the culmination of everything over the last two years had finally gotten to Evan, and Brian was worried that either he himself would find Evan in a less than alive state, or he'd get the second worst phone call of his life.

He cared for Evan more deeply than he'd ever admit to anyone, including himself. He supposed that's what fueled his constant ringing of the man he called his best friend. Evan didn't seem to mind, even turning on his camera for him at one point.

Even when they weren't calling, they were texting each other to an almost obsessive degree. Evan had been lonely far longer than Brian had, and bore the same worry he did on whether or not he was pestering. Brian had once told him that he was never a nuisance to him, despite what he may claim in videos. The last thing he wanted was Evan thinking he bothered him, it was quite the opposite, actually.

He'd never have enough of him.

Even still, he refrained from texting his friend for a while. He knew the man was an insomniac, but there was no doubt in his mind that Evan was asleep at that point, his last two messages remaining on “Sent” sealing his belief. Running out of options that were anything other than going to bed at seven in the evening, Brian began scrolling through Instagram.

After passing through the mundane posts from his friends and colleagues, Brian found himself looking at Lanai's page. She was also most likely asleep at that point, and he didn't want to risk waking her if she was, so this was a valid substitute.

He scrolled through her posts, reaching some from years back, even before they met. He landed on the one that had piqued his interest all those years ago. The one that had made him pursue her in the first place. Knowing the beautiful woman in these posts about being a gamer girl and Streamer would be his future girlfriend got him all sorts of giddy.

All sorts of giddy.

He was pent up. He hadn't had sex in almost 2 months, and he hadn't jerked off in even longer. Why hadn't he thought to sooner?

Brian almost felt like a creep as he palmed himself through his shorts while looking through Lanai's Instagram. It strangely felt wrong to be getting off to his woman without her knowledge. Regardless, he had a mission in mind.

He padded to the bathroom to retrieve a towel and a roll of toilet paper. He had a feeling it was going to be a long night, especially with nothing else to do.

He spread the towel out upon his bed and fetched his hand lotion from his suitcase, placing it on the bedside table with the toilet roll. Brian kicked his shorts off, leaving them and his boxers discarded on the floor at the side of the bed. He climbed back into place, pouring some lotion into his palm and pulling his hoodie up just above his belly button. Brian retrieved his phone with his empty hand and continued his scroll through Lanai's account while working up a slow pace.

Eventually, upon releasing into his hand and onto the towel, he remembered he and Lanai had sexted at one point. Brian eagerly swiped back through their text messages, skimming through weeks and weeks worth of conversations in search of those heavenly pictures.

However, he felt his eagerness melt off almost instantaneously as he paused to read an argument they had. It was months old, but it had happened just before he left for Ireland. It was dumb, it was petty, and the more Brian read the more he realized they both were in the wrong, but were too proud to just let it go.

Suddenly, he didn't want the pictures, and the combination of spunk and lotion coating his palm felt greasy and shameful. He wiped his hand and thigh off before crumbling the paper and tossing it to the floor. Brian was about to roll over and call it a night, but his screen lit up just then, playing a notification sound he knew all too well.

“spungylarry chair :]” the message read before retreating back into his notifications. Brian pulled it back down, and smiled a little as he tapped it.

Evan was awake then, and he'd replied to Brian’s question of what he wanted for his upcoming birthday. The caption was accompanied by a photo of a pleather chair that bore Spongebob’s face. Brian smiled genuinely at the innocent facade Evan gave him. It was cheesy, but his friend was so silly at times.

Another message popped up as Brian began to type. His eyelids flew all the way open, his breath caught in his throat, and his thumbs paused over the letters he'd been typing.

Evan had sent him a selfie. One of him giving him a pout. It wasn't a silly, over-exaggerated one, oh no. His camera was a bit above his head, casting his friends face and shoulders in blue light. Evan's head was cocked to the side, leaving his neck open for Brian to stare at. His chin was raised slightly, his eyebrows loose and drooping above the dark chocolate that swirled within his eyes.

Evan must have groomed himself since that morning, when he sent a different selfie. His hair was shorter, and his dirt mustache was no longer fraying. The way his hair fell over his eyes slightly struck a violent cord in Brian. The real center of attention, however, was his mouth.

Evan's lips were puffed out into the smallest pout. He'd always thought pouting just made you look like a child that was mad about not getting their way, but there was just something about the way Evan did it that caused Brian's chest to flutter and his gut to backflip.

And his dick to perk back up.

“pretty pleaz?” the next caption read. Brian stared at the photo for a solid five minutes, committing every last stray hair and crack in his best friend’s lips to memory. The photo was mesmerizing to say the least. Not only that, but the prospect of Evan of all people begging him, pleading with him for something, flooded every logical sense in Brian's head.

He was painfully hard now, but Evan didn't need to know that. He himself wasn't even sure why this one photo of his best friend had immediately shot blood into his nethers.

He had to reply.

And Brian had to breathe.

“i'll think about it, you scare me sometimes”

Yea, that was safe. And quick. Safe and quick. So Brian could scroll back upwards and stare at the selfie again. His dick perked up a bit more, and Brian swallowed thickly.

This was alot to process. It had to be just because he was jacking off anyway, right? It wasn't a secret that he found Evan attractive, but he'd never felt quite this way about him. Especially after he began dating Lanai all those years ago.

He'd had somewhat of a schoolboy crush on Evan when the man first slid into his YouTube DM's back in 2013. He'd strived to make videos that were on par with the Canadian's, and to find out that someone he admired so much liked him, some dumb college kid from Dublin, so much that he wanted to play games with him? And continue to play with him for seven years after that?

During that very first session, Brian had found his stomach to be filled to bursting with butterflies. His heart alternated between rattling against his ribs like an automatic rifle and skipping beats all together. His palms were slick against the controller, and he cursed the nervous quiver in his voice whenever he was directly addressed; more specifically, when Evan addressed him.

Those first two years of friendship felt more akin to a monarchy, at least between him and Evan. Evan would ask him to do something, a skit, a voice, to blow up Tyler's car in GTA, and Brian would do it no questions asked. He'd mentally scold himself for wanting to thank Evan for asking him to do it. He was the Canadian's perfect little lapdog, blinded by loyalty and playground-esque infatuation.

He supposed his crush on the younger man never truly died, only receded when he met Lanai. By then, he was such good friends with Evan that getting his sole attention, while still heavily desired, was just the norm and didn't have the same effect on Brian as it once had. He'd accepted at that point that his wishes for even just a chance to be more than friends with Evan were just that, wishes. Lanai had filled that void in Brian's heart. The hole wasn't quite Lanai-shaped, but she fit in it the best she could.

Now, he was here. Seven years later, with the man he knew deep down he adored, all to himself, albeit twelve hundred miles away. Brian stared at his reflection in the blackness of his screen. It had timed-out amidst his quiet contemplation, and soon lit up again with a reply from the man of the hour.

“i know ;]” was all it took for Brian to close his phone, take his dick into his hand again, and close his eyes.

Rather than memories and pictures of Lanai that he had memorized over the years, he found his mind drifting toward Los Angeles. Memories of that dark faux hawk that every gym bro had back then, tanned muscles accentuating the shape of every t-shirt and shorts combo. Those eternally indifferent, tired looking chocolate eyes Brian found himself drowning within.

Then they shifted, that ridiculously long emo flap the man had had when he was pitching his EDM career, the beginnings of his now infamous dark circles framing the spark of excitement within his eyes.

They shifted once more, his hair now falling just barely past his shoulders, pressed down beneath a trucker hat. A tattoo cascaded down his right arm now, the owl near his wrist taking up the most real estate. The beginnings of that now ever present dirt mustache shadowed his top lip in an oddly endearing way.

Then finally, the face he'd become intimately acquainted with over the last two months. His hair was shorter now, resting a bit above his shoulders. His bangs were parted, framing his face in tendrils of darkness. The dark circles had now fully formed, the chronic insomnia finally taking root. That mustache was fully visible now as well, bridging the space between his nose and upper lip.

Brian began panting at this visage of Evan, quickening his pace exponentially. This is the Evan he loved. The one he talked to every single day of his life. The one that did everything in his power to piss him off when they were recording. The one who remained in calls with him long after everyone else left. The one who had confided his depression in him, and nobody else. The one who had seen his worth when his world was crashing down amidst the hurricane of internet drama.

The one who was just a phone call away.

Like a catastrophic tidal wave, a sudden carnal desire pulled Brian beneath the enormous crests. A desire to do more than picture his best friend within the confines of his imagination. More than scrolling through the man's Instagram like an e-girl's tier three Twitch sub.

He wanted to hear the man's voice.

He needed to hear the man's voice.

Brian reluctantly paused his strokes, still gripping his length so as to not lose any progress he'd made. He reached for his phone and dialed a number he didn't need to memorize but chose to anyway.

While it rang, Brian spat into his palm, taking himself in hand once more.

“Mr. Fong is out at the moment, can I take a message for him?” Came Evan's attempt at a female voice on the other line. Brian froze in his tracks, the realization of his actions setting in.

He was going to fucking jack off to the sound of Evan's voice. Was he a fucking lunatic?!

“Hello? Earth to Handjob, you didn't butt dial me, did you?” Evan's monotone echoed in his head. Brian's dick twitched in his hand at just the sound of his voice, and he almost moaned.

“Yea, yea… sorry. I jus’ spaced out waitin’ fer ya ta pick up. Thought I was more important than a SpongeBob chair, but once again I'm proven wrong!” Brian bit back, attempting to hide the arousal in his voice. His cheeks burned, his heart stuttered, his guts tangled, and his cock was harder than it had been in a long time.

“Whatever man. What's up?” Evan questioned innocently. The line was quiet while Brian tried to think of a good excuse for calling his friend so late.

“Ah, nothin’ much. I jus’ was uh… not feelin’ right. In my head, I mean. Lanai's a bit mad at me now, right?” He rambled, hoping he sounded believable. It's not like Evan had reason to doubt his claims. He didn't know Brian was getting off to the sound of his voice.

But Evan was smart. He picked up the small details that others didn't. Surely he wouldn't randomly figure out that his best friend was a nasty little pervert that pleasured himself to a voice that belonged to neither him or his girlfriend.

Brian was overthinking it. He focused on the task at hand. Literally.

Evan chuckled, and Brian began his ministrations almost painfully slow. He heard the little huff that always followed Evan's laughs, and he yelped and closed his fingers around the base of his cock, keeping himself from ending this too soon.

This would only be a one time thing. His desperation needed to be reigned back in.

“Yea, I get it. You can just tell me if you like the sound of my voice. I know you do.” Evan said in obvious jest.

But he couldn't know how true of a statement it was.

What a cocky son of a bitch.

“A-alright. In all seriousness, Ev. Can ye just, uh… jus’ talk ta me? I jus’... I really need it right now, OK?” Brian spoke, almost whispering to keep the moan in his throat at bay. He heard Evan inhale sharply. It was silent for a moment or ten, Brian couldn't tell. He was half expecting to hear the dial tone for a moment before Evan finally responded.

“Uh, yea man sure. I can do that. I can talk for a while. What, um… what do you wanna talk about?” The Canadian asked awkwardly. Brian could almost picture the man playing with a loose strand of hair when he asked that. He began stroking his dick again, swallowing a groan at the friction of his sticky hand against the sensitive skin.

“I don’ care. Jus talk ta me please.” Brian grunted huskily. He bit his lip, closing his eyes and imagining Evan down in LA. Was it hot there? Was Evan wearing that cropped muscle shirt he usually saved for workouts and undershirts? Had his stomach toned back up again, or was there the smallest bit of pudge from his diet? Had he trimmed his happy trail while cutting his hair and fixing his mustache? Was he wearing those loose grey sho-

“Are you beating off right now Brian?” Evan bluntly asked him, seemingly out of the blue. All of the hairs on Brian’s body stood on end, his strokes halting in place, his breath stuck in his esophagus.

Evan was a fucking psychic. There's no other way to explain it. His best friend was a fucking psychic, and he'd just been caught masturbating like he was a dumbass kid that didn't know how to clear his search history. Brian swallowed as he wordlessly floundered for a response.

“Just, the way you're breathing. And you're being weird right now.”

What in the actual fuck was this guy on? He could tell by the way he was breathing?!

The little voyeuristic pervert in his head forced his hand back up and down his cock, now dribbling with pre-cum. The fact that Evan had caught him red handed (white handed?) excited him way too much for his liking. But, what the hell? He'd made it this far, and Evan didn't sound outright disgusted. It's not like either could do more than hang up in this situation. Fuck it, right?

Brian let out a breathy moan in reply. He heard Evan inhale sharply once more.

“Alright. Ok. That's uh… that's… yea…” Evan muttered, and Brian genuinely couldn't tell what he was feeling.

“‘m sorry.” He mumbled, biting his lip to keep another moan from escaping. He was almost successful.

“No, no. That's alright. Thats… wow.” Evan exhaled deeply. He heard the man shuffling on the other line. If Brian didn't know better, he'd think he was into it. Still, now he just felt guilty. This was most definitely out of Evan’s comfort zone, and Brian preferred to stay within those confines as much as he could.

“I can just go. We can pretend this never happened. ‘m sorry, Ev, I jus-”

“No, it's really fine, Brian. Really fine. We can keep going. I'll keep talking if you keep talking.” Evan interrupted him, his voice deeper and slightly louder, like the phone was pressed to those damn lips that started this whole thing.

“Ok.” Was all Brian managed, grasping his dick once more.

“Ok.” Evan parroted.

“What, ah… what are ye wearin’?” Brian posited awkwardly. He felt his face light up red when Evan snickered at the question.

“That's cheesy, Bri.” The man giggled. Brian rolled his eyes.

“Jus’ humor me. Please.” Brian muttered in embarrassment. Evan hummed in acknowledgement.

“That Metallica tank top. You know the one. The grey shorts that were pants. Are you imagining it right now, Bri?” Evan spoke in a sultry tone that sounded almost alien coming from his mouth. It was so hot, and Brian was so hard.

“Y-yea. I know them. I can see ‘em.”

“Good. I cut my hair today. Trimmed my mustache. You could probably tell from the picture I sent.” Evan continued, his voice circling around Brian's whole being and enveloping him in a warm blanket of arousal. This was the most erotic thing he'd ever experienced.

“D'ya… oh… did ya trim anythin’ else?” What a strange question to ask anyone. But he just knew Evan would pick up exactly what he wanted to know.

“Nope. It's not long enough to trim yet. You like it a bit thicker though, don't you, Bri?” Evan asked him, the deep, roughness of his voice reverberating in Brian's bones and wringing a moan from his chest. He'd seen Evan in the nude before, when they were roomed together during PAX in 2015. Evan didn't really have much body hair to speak of, aside from his arms, legs, and nethers of course. His happy trail was dark against his belly. He had a noticeable farmers tan, so the dark hair really stood out against the lighter skin.

Brian wished in that moment that they were face to face, so he could kiss his way down that toned stomach, run his tongue and teeth through those coarse hairs. Watching the way Evan writhed beneath him as he finally sunk even further down to-

“I do. Ya got me.” Brian breathed with a humorless chuckle, banishing those thoughts for another time. He needed to focus on the here and now. Not on the wishes he once had. He heard Evan hum into the phone. He swore he heard him gasp lightly too.

“I knew it. I remember the way you stared at me back then, Bri. Back in 2015. When we shared a room. I bet you didn't think I saw you looking at me. You would've smothered me if I gave you the go ahead, wouldn't you?” Evan questioned, the pure filth spewing from his lips lighting Brian's cheeks, heart, and dick ablaze. He panted into the phone, sweat moistening his entire being.

“You wanted me so badly then. I can only ever imagine the things you'd have done to me. Kissed my mouth raw, marked me up, like you always wanted to do. Let everyone know who had the rightful claim over Mr. Evan Fong in all his glory.”

“Christ, Ev…”

“I could've given you one look and you'd have me on my back in seconds, fucking me into the mattress. No one would ever be able to compete with you, isn't that right, Bri?” Evan's words coiled around his very core, entrenching him, like a fly caught in honey.

He was putty in Evan's hands. He always had been.

Brian was almost there now, eyes squeezed shut, phone on speaker, laying next to his head. He was drenched in sweat, legs twitching violently as he built up to orgasm. He moaned and groaned in ecstasy, the younger man's words cutting deep into his heart.

“You'd ruin me for everyone else. As if I'd ever need anyone else. If you could, you'd come running down here the moment I asked. You'd come running to me, kiss all my problems away. You'd have your way with me as much as you'd want, and I'd let you, Bri. You'd finally have me allllll to yourself, just the way you've always wanted.”

“Evan… oh god, Evan…”

“You'd do anything I'd ask you to, right? You'd spend the rest of time inside me if I asked you to, wouldn't you?”

“Y-yes Ev… christ… I'd do anythin’ fer you, Ev…” Brian moaned, feeling his climax approaching quickly as he jerked vigorously, imagining his hand was Evan's insides. It had never truly festered how badly he'd wanted Evan. Hearing the man himself saying it aloud to him gaped the Evan-shaped hole in his heart once more, any thought of Lanai temporarily forgotten.

“There is one thing I'd like you to do for me now, Brian.” Evan almost whispered. Brian leaned towards his phone more.

“W-what? Whatever ye want, I'll do it.” Brian managed, swallowing harshly as he tried to hold in his release.

“Cum for me, Brian~” Was all Evan had to say before Brian erupted with a moan facing the phone, white spurts of cum spraying onto his hand, thighs and belly. His legs shook violently as he milked out his orgasm, never wanting the moment of pure bliss and ecstasy to end. When it finally began to hurt, Brian whimpered slightly, releasing his cock, and resting his hand (palm up) on the towel beneath him.

“Jesus christ, Ev. Where'd all that come from?” Brian asked the other man finally after regaining his breath. He heard Evan hum.

“I've been doing alot of thinking lately. About back then. About us.” Evan murmured, every trace of seduction in his voice vanished, like it had never happened.

“Yea?”

“Yea.”

“What about us?” Brian asked nervously. They were veering out of Evan's comfort zone quickly, Brian could tell.

“Why I never went after you. It was obvious you liked me. I mean, Tyler and Brock thought we were…” Evan trailed off, a hint of sadness tainting his tone. Brian swallowed.

“Thought we were together?” He offered.

“Yea. I… I like you too, Brian.” Evan confessed. Brian blinked, processing the words individually.

“Like?” He asked.

“I never stopped liking you. I was just… scared? I was scared that I got the wrong signs. I was scared of commitment.” Evan sighed, that sadness now fully corrupting his words.

“I was scared too, Ev. I'd never felt that way ‘bout anyone before. I didn't wanna ruin us, so I just left ya be.”

“I know. I wish things were different.” Evan confessed, his voice cracking ever so slightly. Brian hated that. He hated himself for making Evan sad; for making him cry.

“I still like you too, Ev. I never stopped likin’ ya. Had I known ye liked me back, I woulda been on a plane to LA the moment PAX ended.” Brian said with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. He heard Evan sniffle.

“I know, I know. It's just… you have Lanai now. She makes you happy, she does things for you that I never could. And I'm happy for you, Brian. I just… I just wish it was me.”

“D'you want it to be you?”

“I do, but-”

“I haven't gotten a ticket back to Washington yet. When they let me outta here, I'll fly down to ya. I'll tell Lanai I'm still stuck here. We can give it a try. Give us a try.” Brian positited without thinking, taking Evan aback.

“But… that just doesn't seem right… I don't want you to fuck up your relationship if this doesn't work. You deserve to be happy, Brian.”

“And I wanna be happy with you, Evan. I haven't been happy with Lanai in a long time, and she hasn't been happy with me in just as long. Just gimme one month. Please, Ev.” Brian pleaded, feeling his own eyes prickling with tears. The line was silent for a minute. He could hear Evan breathing.

“Ok.”

“Ok?”

“Ok.”

“I'll see ya then, Ev. I love you.” Brian said, feeling a gigantic burden lifting off of his shoulders.

“Love you too.” Evan spoke quietly before hanging up. Brian smiled, feeling hopeful and optimistic for the first time in weeks. He looked down as his hand, and his belly, and his thighs, still covered in drying spunk.

“Goddamn Canadians…” He cursed to himself as he trudged into the bathroom.

[gemini-magic17]

Entanglement Chapter Twenty-Nine

**One Week Later (Y/n's POV)

I haven't spoken to James since our conversation and he has made no effort to talk to me at all. The same goes for my parents they still keep their distance and I understood in the beginning. However, it's been almost a month how long can they pretend that I don't exist and that I am a disappointment to them. I thought that maybe this celebration or rather a welcome party we have for the Prince of Kilandra. Ever since the attack on Tir Asleen the constant worry the people have had that King Larikson would come back and try to finish what he started struck a fear in everyone. My father and Queen Sorsha have turned to the kingdom of Kilandra seeing as they almost have as many soldiers as Larikson does.

The town square was somewhat turned into this lavish place where decorations were placed all over in Tir Asleen colors. As I walked around the square my eyes landed on Prince Henrik. When I first met him I could hear a hint of arrogance in his voice whenever he talked especially when it came to him and the position he held. It was almost like he believed he was better than everyone else and we were beneath him I mean that is how he acted anyway. The first words I ever spoke to him were regarding how his journey had been and he turned his nose up at me. I never even met him before and apparently, I had disgusted him.

Standing next to Henrik was Kit and from the looks of it she did not seem to be amused by what he had to see. I could see her roll her eyes and take a sip from her cup dreading the conversation they were having. As she turned away from him her eyes landed on me and she gave me a look of exhaustion. This makes sense because just being near him could make someone want to die of boredom and couldn't imagine talking to him for so long it would make you want to hit him. When I say that someone might want to hit him it is not because of the way he drags on and on but it is the way he treats people. Henrik has no regard for other people or their feelings. It is almost as if he is God's gift to the world and we are just here to worship him. I could see Kit getting more and more annoyed by his antics and decided someone should go save her from him. As I made my way over Prince Henrik spotted me in the corner of his eye and he followed with an immediate eye roll when I made my appearance.

"Hello, Prince Henrik how are you doing today", I said and he said nothing just responded with a scoff.

"If you will excuse us I just need to borrow Kit for a moment", I stated and grabbed her hand trying to make an escape.

"Actually Princess Kit and I were right in the middle of a conversation so if you don't mind why don't you make yourself scarce. After all, that is what you are best at, aren't you", he said and I turned to him ready to go off.

"I'm sorry what did you just say to me?"

"You heard me. You ran off leaving your family behind letting them believe something awful had happened to you. What kind of person does that?"

"She had her reasons so why don't you apologize to Y/n otherwise I am going to shove my foot so far up your ass you will be able to taste the leather of my boots", Kit stated getting into Henrik's face.

"I would watch what you say Kit", he said with a smirk.

"And why is that?"

"Because both Tir Asleen and Zemira need my numbers for both of your kingdoms to be safe. So, I would watch it bitch before I got to make an offer to King Larikson instead and take over both of your kingdoms", he said and started to walk away from us. It was then all the rage that was building up inside of me for weeks was ready to blow.

"HEY JACKASS", I shouted which not only got the attention of the Prince but everyone there.

"What did you just call me", he said as he turned to me.

"You heard me I called you a jackass because that is what you are. Who the hell do you think you are coming here, insulting Kit and I? I don't give a fuck who you are and what you say to me but what you said to Kit I won't let stand. I don't care how many soldiers you have or rather your father does. Tir Asleen and Zemira don't need the help of some arrogant, stuck-up, pussy of a sorry excuse of a prince to help defeat Larksion", I exclaimed and the looks that I got were ones of astonishment. I could see my parents and Queen Sorsha approach us. The anger radiating off of them was intense I have never seen my father so angry not even after what I had done.

"LISTEB YOU LITTLE BITCH I AM NOT ONE TO BE TRIFLED WITH AND THE DISRESPECT YOU HAVE SHOWN ME TODAY IS CONSIDERED AN ACT OF WAR! SO WHEN I SAIL BACK TO MY KINGDOM I AM GOING TO WRITE A LETTER TO LARIKSON AND DESTROY YOU!"

After he said that I looked all around to see the terror shown on everyone's face including my parents. In that moment I knew that I may have started a war that we could not win and ultimately led to the downfall of Zemira and Tir Asleen. Yet, I was still furious about what he had said and wanted to inflict pain upon him by not only insulting Kit and me but threatening to annihilate both of our kingdoms. Before my father or Queen Sorsha could calm Henrik down a loud roar could be heard in the distance. It was then there was complete silence throughout the square.

"What was that", I heard my father say as everyone looked around for where the sound originated from. I however knew where it came from and what was coming. The sound could be heard closer and closer which is when guards surrounded us for our protection. Kit looked at me wondering what had happened and if I had some how managed to call one of the dragons here. However, I didn't it is almost as if they knew what has happened.

I pushed my way through the guards and tried to figure out if it was Tyrax that was coming closer but as I got closer I realized it was Calyx. Calyx must have followed me here not just Tyrax and almost in a blink of an eye his appearance was clearly made. The sight of him made everyone shake in fear and many shouts could be heard. As I saw Calyx he circled around the town square and landed on the stone structure that stood behind me. He let out a ferocious roar and jumped off the structure only to land beside me.

This caused everyone to back up in fear yet many couldn't turn their eyes away from the scene in front of them. The looks I was getting from everyone were one of curiosity many of them must have wondered why isn't the the beast attacking her. The death stare Calyx gave those around us especially Henrik could almost kill. When the guards who were previously surrounding us made their way towards us Calyx moved part of his body to shield me from them. Many whisperers could be heard and I could see the expression on my father's face where I could tell he knew what was going on. Well, not entirely just the fact that one of the largest dragons in history thought to be extinct is right in front of him living and breathing.

"Y/n what is the meaning of this", I hear my father ask.

"I believe you know exactly what is going on. After all, you remember telling me that dragons don't exist or rather that they were no longer alive", I stated, and the onlookers were confused about what was going on.

"Get away from that thing before it hurts you or rather kills you", when my father said that Calyx let out a growl in his direction warning him not to interfere.

"I will do no such thing Calyx will not hurt me. However, he may hurt anyone who dares to come near me or rather do me harm", as I looked at Prince Henrik who seemed to be wary of what is going on.

Calyx saw where I was looking and in turn, followed my line of sight. I could see now that he was trained on Henrik and was looking to pounce on him at any moment.

"Sweetheart I am begging you please come here", my mother asked.

"Oh, now I am your sweetheart, am I? For weeks I have been trying to talk to both of you and all I have been getting is the cold shoulder. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? I thought you both hated me I still do", I exclaimed.

"Of course we don't hate you ", I hear my father state.

"Could have fooled me."

"Please can you just come here?"

"No", I shouted.

"Y/n please-", before my mother could continue a large shadow appeared over her. As I looked up I could see Tyrax make his way down a boulder. With many eyes trained on him, I could see that Henrik was really starting to get scared.

"How many of those things are there", he shouts.

"First of all they are not things they are dragons and secondly it is best not to provoke them otherwise it might lead to something terrible happening to you", I stated.

"How dare you threaten?

"It wasn't a threat it was a warning. Regarding the so-called alliance between pour two kingdoms, it will not be needed. If you or King Larikson attack us know that you will die an imaginable death", I said and his face went as white as a sheep.

"You can't do that I am a prince!"

"And I am a Princess but yet I do not care especially when it comes to those threatening those I care about. I suggest you leave along with your companions and go back to your father to tell him what will happen if he were to go against us", I stated and Calyx roared in response to my declaration. I could see that Prince Henrik was officially spooked and decided to talk to Queen Sorsha.

"Queen Sorsha surely you won't let this stand", he said.

"Well, Prince Henrik seeing as the princess is married to my daughter and that it is also her kingdom is at stake I would say she has the right to defend her home", she states.

"You can't be serious", he exclaims and turns to my father.

"King Aiden surely you can see reason. The fact your daughter threatens my kingdom and my people is serious which must be dealt with", he said and my father turned to look at me contemplating what to do next.

"My daughter can be ill-tempered and quick to resort to extreme measures", when he said that I knew that he wasn't going to stick up for me.

"However, she gets that from me. Since King Larikson has waged war against us and you now threaten to do so is something none of us can let stand. Also, I distinctly remember my daughter threatening you, not your people. I am giving you one chance to pack your things and leave otherwise I will have no choice but to do the same", he stated and I thought that Henrik was going to piss his pants in that moment.

"You're going to regret this you know that! Kilandra is a proud country and we will not let this go", he screamed and Calyx roared in return.

"We will regret nothing and I can assure you if you are to attack us we will make sure your will pay for it with your life", I said and he walked off to the castle escorted by a number of guards to get his things.

**Kit's POV

I was shocked by everything that just happened. From Henrik talking about waging war against us to Calyx revealing himself to everyone is Tir Asleen. The awkward silence that seemed to consume the town square after Prince Henrik had left was broken by the words of Airk.

"WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED HERE", he exclaimed.

"Will you quiet down Airk you are going to spook Calyx and Tyrax", I told him and he gave me an incredulous look.

"Spook them how the hell can I spook them they are fucking dragons!"

"Yes that maybe but I don't think they react too well to someone all of a sudden shouting dumbass."

"Wait a minute is this what you were hiding", he asked.

"What do you mean hiding? Kit", my mother asked.

"I wasn't hiding anything don't be ridiculous", I stated.

"I knew you were covering up something about that day in battle. You lied about how Larikson's army was defeated and now I see why", he said pointing towards Calyx.

"Kit, is this true? Is this how we won the battle", she asked.

"Don't be ridiculous mother Airk is just paranoid."

"I am not fucking paranoid Kit!"

"Kit tell us the truth is this how we won by Y/n using dragons", King Aiden chimed in.

"No, it is not how-", before I could finish my statement Y/n spoke up.

"Yes, that is how we won. Calyx and I flew to battle when we received news that Tir Asleen was going to be attacked."

"Why wouldn't you tell us this in the first place", my mother asked me.

"I made a promise to Y/n that I wouldn't. Think about what would happen if they knew that dragons were real and that they even existed how well do you think that would have gone over with?"

"Do not blame Kit or any of the others I swore them to secrecy it is my fault not theirs."

"Wait a minute how did you find out about the battle anyway", Y/n's father asked her.

"I received a letter from Willow detailing everything that happened."

"Hold on. Kit, didn't you inform me that you also received a letter from Willow about this", my mother said and I went quiet.

"Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me", King Aiden exclaimed.

"You were with my daughter when you found out about this and didn't think to tell any of us!"

"I told her not to say anything. It is not her fault", Y/n stated.

"I didn't want to come back not yet and I made that very clear to her, Boorman, and Amara."

"This is unfucking believable", he shouts.

"Be mad at me all you want after all that is what you have been doing for weeks on end but do not take it out on them", with those words, she turned towards Calyx and started climbing on his back.

"Where do you think you are going", Aiden stated.

"I am going to go see Willow that is where I am going."

"Like hell you are we are not finished talking about this any of it!"

"Maybe you are but I am. I will be back later and we can discuss everything then but for right now I have to go", she said and was about to leave when I stopped her.

"Wait, Y/n", I said and she turned to look at me.

"What is it kit?"

"I wanted to thank you", I said and she looked confused.

"For what?"

"For standing up for me when Henrik bad-mouthed me in front of the entire kingdom."

"Of course, I couldn't sit back and let him disrespect you like that", and her words made me blush. I tried to turn away before she could notice it but I don't think it worked.

"Anyway thank you."

"You are welcome", she said and proceeded to take off in the direction of Willow's home/

Calyx started to move forward not caring who he knocked down who was in his way. In a matter of seconds, he leaped off the ground, and from the flap of his wings the wind caused by it made the dirt on the ground blow around everyone. As they took off towards the skies Tyrax was not far behind them and the looks of the townspeople were one of amazement and fear.

The threat that Prince Henrik and his kingdom pose to us is grave. Only time will tell what is to happen after the events from today. If Larikson and Henrik were to join forces it would not end well for us but then again we have something they don't.

[maxident-xx]

you know what. fuck it. *posts entire phony wip in here*

WC : 3628

@wabatle @sillynene-13 since yall like phony

Chapter One - 02/01/2XXX

Death Corps. Everyone feared the four knocks on the door. Four, the unlucky number. That's when the Death Corps recruiters would come, forcing you to join the army. Everyone had to join, starting at the age of 13. I think they started doing it because of the amount of wars that have been going on lately. They need more soldiers to defend our crappy country. There were two ways you could get out of serving in the Death Corps: if you had some serious disability or if you were filthy rich. If you paid enough money, you could avoid going for half a year. If you keep paying, when you turn 35, they stop caring. My parents have been using the payment method of saving my brother and I for the past few years, up until now. The four dreaded knocks. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

I silently ran downstairs to overhear the conversation between my dad and the recruiter. The recruiter was a woman with blonde hair and dark brown roots. She had dark siren eyes and was dressed in an all black attire. She was utterly terrifying.

“Yes, Mr. Terry Black? We're here to enlist Mallory Poppy Black and Fitz Aster Black for their necessary Death Corps Service. We didn't receive any payment, and in the Death Corps Handbook, Section 37B it states if there is no payment to spare yourself from serving for a month, a Death Corps recruiter is obligated to come and take you or your children to training.”

“Recruiter, ma'am, we might've run out of money, but please don't do this to my kids. I'll pay double the amount next year.”

“I'm so sorry, Mr. Black. I cannot do that, I don't make the rules. I listen to the handbook. Can you please call them over?”

“Mallory, Fitz! Come down!” 

I went down first, my twin brother, Fitz, following shortly after. His face paled as he recognized the skull embroidered on the recruiters uniform.

“You're shitting me,” Fitz choked out.

“I'm so sorry,” My dad chanted as he squeezed us. “I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, please stay safe, my babies,” He was beginning to cry now. I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to sob with him.

“Come with me, you two,” The recruiter ordered. Fitz and I followed her to her van. “Everyone in Death Corps has a code name. Mine is Guerilla. I am not telling you my real name, as per Death Corps Handbook section 1B. You two need to serve 18 months each.” She reapplied her cherry red lipstick before starting the van. “I'll be picking up more kids after. If any of you guys try to escape, you will suffer immediate consequences. What are they? You don't want to know.” 

“Guerilla scares me,” Fitz whispered.

“Real, if I have to serve in her regiment I don't know what I would do,” I whispered back. I couldn't shake the question off my brain, why can't she say her real name? Is it for privacy reasons? What if we did find her real name?

For those of you reading this story, sorry to interrupt, but I'm Mallory and I hate my life. My parents are divorced because they have absolutely no love for each other. The world is at a constant state of war. My twin brother is a weirdo. I probably won't get to eat mint chocolate chip ice cream for the next 18 months. But it could be worse?

The next person that boarded the van is some kid who looks our age. He was too busy crying to say anything about himself.

After that there was this one kid who just stared off into space for three minutes before talking. “My sister is in the Death Corps. I wonder how she's doing. She's almost done with her service.”

“What's her name, child?” Guerilla asked from the front seat.

“Eden. Eden Mendoza. I'm Wren, her little sibling,” The kid said. I could not tell the gender of that thing, and apparently, neither could anyone else.

“Oh, Himmel. Her left leg's been completely blown off I tell ya. Blood everywhere, it flew six or seven feet away from her, what a sight! But don't worry, she's doin’ better,” Guerilla informed. 

Fitz and I looked at each other, eyes both wide. The boy started crying harder. Wren's mouth was agape. “Her- Her leg was blown off??”

“Mhm, that's not even the worst I've witnessed on the battlefield. She uses a prosthetic leg now.” The fact Guerilla could say that with such a straight face shows how traumatizing serving for the Death Corps would be. I can't wait. (That's sarcasm, for those of you who are a little slow.)

After Guerilla collected all of the recruits, there were a total of eight people in the back of the van. Four boys, three girls, and one whatever the hell Wren was. The oldest in the van was a 21 year old man, the youngest was Wren, being 14 years old.

When we arrived at the camp, boy, was it crowded. There were varying expressions, from people trembling and crying to people being… excited to be here? You have a 51.6% death rate from serving in Death Corps, and you're excited? I wish I was that optimistic about dying. 

“Mallory, if I die, please hide my phone from Dad. One wrong click and he's going to bring me back from the dead and kill me again,” Fitz told me. I wonder how he'd feel knowing two years after he said that, I went through his phone and found out exactly why he said that.

“Same goes with me. If Dad found the drawings in my sketchbook, I'm done for.” I've never gotten along with Fitz well, but I guess it's easier to talk with someone when you're both in a life-or-death situation.

A loud siren came from way up front and a man who appeared to be around his mid-30's stepped up on the podium. “Welcome all Death Corps recruits. I am Eifrit, the current General of Death Corps. You are all gathered here today to serve your required 18 month term. You will undergo training and testing to decide which subunit is the most fitting for you. We wish the best for you, and as our founder would say, ‘Experiri non mori.’ Thank you.”

I think I'm going to start writing my suicide note. Death Corps, you guys can get a special shout out.

Chapter Two - 02/01/2XXX

“Alright, everyone from van SK431 come to this side! I will be doing a fitness test to see if you are fit to be in battle. I will be doing this with the aid of my helper, Andromeda. Introduce yourself, Andromeda!” Guerilla announced.

Andromeda was slightly shorter than Guerilla and had a nose piercing, a mole above her lips, split dyed black and white hair, and purple eyes that seemed as if they lost the glimmer in them a long time ago. “Hello trainees, my name is Andromeda, as Guerilla said, and I serve as a medic in the Death Corps. I will be doing a full body examination, and then we will run some exercises to test your stamina, dexterity, and strength. Any questions before we begin?”

“Ew a full body exam?? Are we going to like, have to strip naked or something?” Some ugly boy exclaims. He was one of the guys that were excited to be here.

“I don't want to see your small dick either, buddy. I have to do this, unfortunately.” Most of the group burst into laughter as whoever that guy was tried to come up with a comeback.

“Oh yeah? Well I bet um… Um… I bet you uh… You smell bad?!” That was the worst attempt at an insult I've ever seen.

Andromeda ignored his statement and moved onto the actual inspections. Fitz went first in a dingy tent with a caduceus on the front. He came back ten minutes later traumatized.

This part is icky and I'm sure you don't want to read it so I'll skip to the part after the whole medical exams. There were person shaped targets lined up and we were each handed a pistol. 

“You all have to shoot the targets. You get two tries, we'll be looking for people that have great accuracy,” Guerilla explained. “You kid, you're up first.”

Wren closed an eye and got into shooting position. The bullet hit a perfect bullseye.

“How did you do it? It was probably just a lucky shot!” A guy shouted.

“I'm used to shooting, my parents taught me when I was younger to prepare me for this. I prefer sniping more, though,” Wren said.

“You're hella good kid, shoot again?” Guerilla rested an arm on their shoulder. They nodded before getting back into position and shooting again, this time a little off from the bullseye. Guerilla wrote something down on a paper and let the weird guy– who's name I later learned was Lawrence– shoot. He used both his shots immediately and just barely hit the target. Guess we know who isn't going to be a shooter. Fitz was after two other people, and he did average. He hit pretty close to the bullseye the first time, and hit somewhere on the outer edges on the second try. I went last, and I had a stunning realization: I need glasses. And I need to find out which eye was my dominant eye. 

“Loser,” Fitz snickered. I elbowed him.

“This is why you're the one that was an accident,” I retorted. He didn't say anything back.

“Next up is close combat! Since there are eight people gathered here, we'll do this tournament style!” Guerilla seemed a little too enthusiastic to watch people fight each other.

First match was some random girl against Fitz. I'm not sure if pitting a girl against a boy is a good idea but equal rights, equal fights. The other recruits, Guerilla, and I watched as Fitz and the girl threw punches at each other. Fitz landed a punch on her nose, and I think something in that girl snapped because she kicked him right where it hurts the most. Everyone felt the pain Fitz felt as he fell to the ground with a groan.

“I win!” The girl smiled. She held her hand out to help Fitz up, but he swatted it away.

“I'm in extreme pain, I don't think I can get up yet,” Fitz groaned. Who's the loser now?”

“I know you can do it, Fitz. Get up if you want to survive,” Guerilla walked towards him and slightly nudged him with her foot. He got up immediately and stood right next to me.

I let him rest his arm on my shoulder as the next match started. It was Wren versus the 21 year old. Okay, these matches are getting a bit unfair now, aren't they? Wren probably just started going through puberty and they're fighting someone who's old enough to drink? The match started with Wren charging directly at the man, and the man retaliated by body slamming Wren on the floor. The thud was loud, but the silence after Wren's eyes closed was louder. 

“That was a child? You could've gone easier on the thing!” Guerilla squatted to feel Wren's pulse. “They're still alive, I'll go call Andromeda. You shouldn't have done that during training, but I like your attitude, man. You better show the same strength on the battlefield, soldier. I'll be back soon. Mallory, you look after everyone.”

The sound of Guerilla's boots hitting the ground decrescendoed as she left the training site. The man looked down on the floor where Wren laid and sat down. “Damn,” He said.

Damn indeed. 

Guerilla returned with Andromeda, who came to pick Wren up, with another girl by her side. She had the same chocolate eyes and facial structure as Wren. The doctor's coat and skirt were long, but not enough to cover the prosthetic leg she had. Was she Himmel? 

“Wren has a minor concussion, but they'll be fine with a little rest. When they wake up, tell them big sis says hi.” Himmel patted their hair before getting up. “Andromeda will supply the medicine to quicken recovery.”

“Thank you, Himmel. I'll tell you when the kid wakes up again.” Guerilla seemed like a genuinely nice person outside of the battlefield. “In the meantime, let's have our third match. Mallory versus Lewis.”

Lewis was the kid that was crying the whole trip here. When the match started, he stood and waited for me to attack. I was about to do the same until I realized that it was a pussy move. So I kicked his shins hard. He fell to the floor immediately and begged for mercy. I think what happened to Wren scared him.

“Mallory wins… I guess. I don't think that counts as much of a win, but great job?” Guerilla stared at Lewis with a pitiful expression. “I don't know what I'm going to do with you. Alright, fourth match starts in a minute!”

“You only won because Lewis is weak. If you went against anyone else, you'd lose,” Fitz told me. 

“You're not wrong.” I weigh 100 pounds and I am 5’6, of course I would lose against anyone that wasn't Lewis.

The fourth match was Lawrence versus a girl. These people need to say their names. I'm going to confuse the readers by saying “this girl” or “this guy” for the millionth time. I should use adjectives to make it a little easier to differentiate. Pink haired girl. That works.

Back to the story, I watched Lawrence win against the pink haired girl, but she put up a pretty strong fight. She seems normal, unlike Lawrence. She was crying a little in the van, but now she looks like she's just accepted her fate. Girl same. 

“What a fight, huh? Most of you guys did great. After Wren wakes up, we'll do an obstacle course,” Guerilla declared. An obstacle course doesn't sound too bad. I'm pretty quick, I have experience. By experience I mean running away from my brother after I eat the last piece of cake. But I'm sure it won't be that bad, right?

Right?

Chapter Three - 02/01/2XXX

I was wrong. It was that bad.

Wren woke up 30 minutes later after Andromeda and Himmel visited, confused. Hope they didn't get amnesia. Guerilla gave them some of the pain medication, but other than the confusion they seemed alright. 

“Sorry for knocking you out and giving you a concussion or something,” Wren's opponent apologized.

“It's okay. Maybe. I understand why you did that, I would've done the same.” Wren forced a smile. Really shitty apology, but good on them for accepting(?) it.

“Okay, now that Wren is back, it's time for the obstacle course. I'm tired of explaining so this should make sense. Y'all have seen obstacle courses before. Coming back in one piece is optional, I'll tell Andromeda to wait at the end and I'll stay here and make sure none of you losers cheat.” Guerilla does not get paid enough to deal with us and I feel her. 

It started with loser boy Lewis tripping and falling face first on the mud. I- along with many others- ran over him. Sorry Lewis. We had to jump hurdles, which almost led to my downfall. After that, it was climbing a cliff and landing the jump on a mattress. 

You get what happens during obstacle courses. I was neck to neck with pink haired girl for most of it until the final stretch, where I made it first. Fitz was third and Wren was behind him. Lewis was last, as always. This boy is a true example of a loser, Fitz, not me.

Guerilla decided to give us a break before starting an… intelligence test? Lawrence failed, as expected. Zero questions right, how does that happen? Fitz got half the questions right. I got 80%, good for me. Wren got one more question right than I did. I got outscored by a 14 year old. I need to evaluate my life choices.

“Folks, since we've completed all the tests, y'all get a break and tomorrow morning we have an assembly. There, you will get sorted into groups based on your performance today. I'm going to drink until I pass out, don't disturb me, your dorms are over there.” Guerilla pointed to a rundown shack. 

I only had one word when I walked in. Gross. Even my brother's underwear doesn't smell as bad as this place.

When I stepped in, it smelled like literal ass. There were four bunk beds, so I played safe and got a bunk above Fitz. The shower was freezing, but it felt refreshing to be able to shower. 

“Guys, appear normal. The troop leaders are doing a check on every training regiment and I want a raise. If you're on your best behavior, I'll let you sleep in an extra five minutes.” Guerilla entered our shack 45 minutes later when most of us were all freshened up. 

Waiting didn't take too long, because it was only two minutes after Guerilla announced a troop leader was arriving when one actually did.

Dear readers, I don't usually find anyone that attractive. But this troop leader? God damn, when I tell you she was fine! She had light blue hair that went to her lower back, a scar that started from her nose to above her right eye, electric blue eyes, and a tank top that revealed her arm muscles. She had a black cap sporting the Death Corps emblem on too. She looked scary in a different way than Guerilla did.

“This the training regiment from van SK431, correct? May I see the results of the tests?” She inquired. “To those who don't know me, my name is Lupus. I'm troop leader 172. Some of you guys might be in my troop, depending on your scores.” Please Lord let that be me. “Hey, Guerilla. This year we have a lot of interesting candidates, hm?”

“Yup,” Guerilla agreed, passing Lupus the papers with our scores, “Sirens little cousin is here, right? Van AE382? I recall working with Siren. Cool guy.”

“Mhm. He was a beast on the battlefield. Let's pray his little cousin is like that.” Even I have heard of Siren. One of the Death Corps best recruits. He killed a bunch of people and showed zero remorse. He left after his term was up, however. The top generals would pay him millions if it meant he would come back. If his cousin was coming here, maybe they would be just as badass as Siren.

Lupus examined the papers, eyes widening at some. “You have some good recruits, Guerilla, but…” Lupus whispered the second part to Guerilla.

“Mmm, we're probably going to put ‘im in the clean-up crew. Scores are underwhelming compared to everyone else in the group.” Of course they're talking about Lewis. The same Lewis who was, for some reason, fast asleep. For context, it was 5:21 pm. 

Lupus and Guerilla chatted about tomorrow and sorting us into troops. I also heard something about code names. The code names they suggested for me before they actually chose my current one were bad. If I had to tell people my name was Speedy I would leave Death Corps even if it meant they would hunt me down. I'll reveal what my code name was at a later point. For now, back to Lupus.

She left our shack, taking the papers to the higher ranks. Guerilla praised us and told us we were good little children for behaving and we would get our 5 minutes of extra sleep. Are we going to have our lesson on coloring in the lines next? Are we going to learn the alphabet? Guerilla was only three years older than the oldest person in our training regiment, so her treating us like kindergarteners doesn't make much sense.

The rest of the day was pretty eh. It was just me doodling in my sketchbook and talking to the only two people I was okay with talking to.

Lights out came shortly after I had finished one of my drawings. I can barely fall asleep on normal days, so of course me being on a bed that felt like a brick made it even worse. The next day we would finally figure out who would go where for extra training based on our strengths and weaknesses. I was going to be separated from Fitz and Wren. I was going to be in a war that changed everything.

Chapter Three Point Five - Why am I Here??

I should interrupt the story with some Death Corps lore. It all started with the war for more land. Humans are selfish beings, they always want more than what they have. they were willing to do anything for some land that was discovered. That land also happened to have a bunch of resources and riches, so that made the wars much worse. The war has been going on for just about a decade now. Every army is different, but in the country I'm in, it has the infamous Death Corps. Death Corps was founded by two siblings, Shams and Qamar. Their real names are unknown, but it was founded just before the war started. At first, it was just recruiting whoever wanted to join and whoever was strong enough. Then, they started getting desperate. They needed more support. They let in whoever wanted to join. The conditions worsened, and they had to resort to forcing everyone to serve in the army.

[youandmedead]

2012 Råþhåêl x Gñ RêåÐêr

Warnings: Swearing, angst with comfort, Raph may be ooc

Requested by: No one

Synopsis: The Kraang invasion has commenced and the turtles + April, Casey and Y/n have gotten out of New York. Leonardo is in critical condition and his brothers are in a crisis. It's up to y/n to comfort them.

Notes: Y/n could either be read as a mutant or human (I didn't put any Specifics in). This hasn’t been proof read and the ending probs sucks ass 🤷‍♀️

Rage. That was all he felt. That familiar emotion constantly consuming him from the inside out. He knew he needed to keep it under wraps, but he found it so difficult especially since he could never find a constant healthy way to manage it. He was constantly at battle with his thoughts and emotions and tried to bury them deep within, he couldn’t never seem weak in front of anybody no matter how close his relation was with them.

Emotion was weakness in his eyes. That’s why he always hid his insecurities and sadness behind a mask of wrath and only let out his emotions in the safety of his room and the company of his little pet tortoise Spike...and now you.

~

Everyone in the van fell silent as they left New York. Y/n and Mikey stared out of the back window of the vehicle, wanting to catch one last glimps of their old home. "So, what's the plan now?" Y/n asked - breaking the silence.

April turned around in her seat, "I have an old family holiday home up state. Barely anybody is around there a-and we can stay there for as long as we need."

Y/n nodded and sighed. Before they tore their gaze away from the window, they gave Mikey a sympathetic look and a quick hug in order to reassure the youngest. They then sat between Donatello and Raphael, who were keeping close watch of their unconscious elder sibling, Y/n reached their hand out and placed it on top of Leo's, "He'll make it...he always does."

"Yeah but what if he doesn't?" Donnie replied quietly, "I-If we had just set up a second base and got out of the city while we had the chance...None if this would've happened. It's all my fault."

Y/n turned their gaze towards the purple masked turtle with a deep sadness and concern presenting. They gave Leo a small kiss on the forehead and sat back in their seat in order to comfort Donnie. They placed their head on his shoulder, "Don't think like that Donnie. Never, think like that. Both plans would have had both positive and negative outcomes, once we recooperate and figure a way to stop this inva-"

"Donnie's right though that was too close a call if you ask me. For all we know Leo could die even before we reach this stupid 'holiday home' and the Kraang could multiply in numbers and grow stronger than ever before! It'll become impossible to stop them...we're all screwed matless the fucking outcome."

Raph was beginning to grow impatient - his emotions had broken free and swirled up from deep within his subconscious. He was growing vulnerable further and further by the second, he was dreading the moment be could no longer contain it. Suddenly Raph felt a warm presence beside him, he looked to his left and noticed y/n now giving him a side hug, "I know it's hard to not think of the worst case scenario Raph, especially when one has already happened, but please try and keep it together. Your brothers need you...so do I."

Raph always relied on himself. Some may say it was for self gain, out of selfishness, but the majority of the time it was simply because he never knew how to ask or he always found it safer and less bothersome to depend on himself. Comfort wasn't exactly something that he was given a lot (the same with his younger and elder brothers) so it was still a strange phenomena to experience. Having someone like y/n to fill that empty void, which was created by such negligence of interactions, was a strange sensation but a pleasant one none the less. "We'll all get through this," y/n whispered whilst slighty tightening the hug.

That was his breaking point.

He readjusted himself and hugged his s/o back, making sure that his brothers couldn't see the tears that were spilling down his cheeks.

"What if we don't? What if Leo never wakes up..."

Y/n broke the hug and looked deeply into Raph's eyes, they placed both of their hands on his cheeks and wiped away the stray tears. "He'll wake up. Leo would never give up and leave his family alone."

Y/n placed their forehead on his and for the rest of the ride everyone was silent. It wasn't long till the journey came to an end and they made it up to April's family farm and immediately aided Leonardo. From then on, Raphael refused to move away from his elder brothers side until he awoke and all everyone could do was accept his wishes, wait in great eagerness and adjust to the new lifestyle that the countryside brought…away from monster and aliens yet double the chaos.

[btskitten7]

The Happy Ones|Kim Taehyung

'A happy face means a happy place'

↝Ship(s): Kim Namjoon x reader & Kim Taehyung x reader

↝Genre: based on the game "We Happy Few"

↝Word count: 3.1k

↝Rating: 18+

↝Warnings: Language, alcohol, controlled environments, and drugs are heavily mentioned. Lots of secrets and lying :( Joon doesn't trust Taehyung. Taehyung doesn't care. more warnings as the chapters come!

↝Summary: Taehyung has been through a lot in his 27 years of living. He has had many heartbreaks. He's been lied to, cheated on, and disrespected time and time again. He realizes that he isn't the problem. Everyone else is. So he committed most of his twenties to finding a solution. And after years, he finally found it...and you are going to help him get it. No matter what.

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                                                   " A happy face means a happy place!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A World of hurt. Pain. Chaos and lies. A place that Taehyung knew too well. From the time he was a young child, it's been constant heartbreak and despair. Once one storm came and went, another would roll in, not allowing him to take a breath, not even a second. And once he thought he had found a friend or a companion...it was always too good to be true. They always used him and took him for granted.

Most would fall into their pity and accept their fate. But to Taehyung, this was his opportunity to change the world around him...and create a new one.

He studied for years. Became an activist. Even went as far as becoming a general to gain some type of control over the dreadful town, an even more dreadful country. But even if he was well respected and never in need of a thing, it still wasn't bringing him happiness. People still found ways to hurt him and make him feel less than despite him working hard and being respectful. People don't think like him. They didn't have the capacity to do so. 

And that's the problem.

After all these years he finally figured out, that it wasn't him. It was everyone else. No matter how much light you throw into the world, darkness is always bound to be present. He was the light and everyone around him was the darkness. He figured...

"If everyone thought as I do, or better yet not think at all, no one would be hurt. Pain and suffering can't possibly exist if you can't think. Or if you can't remember your past."

"A happy person with no history"

He decided to change the world as you knew it. He decided to create something that would erase life's��"happy accidents". It would be like Bob Ross waking up one morning and creating his own world. It's perfect and since he was well respected and looked up to, it wasn't too hard for him to get everything he needed to begin his New World 2.0 project. After, all the tests, all the fails, and trials. He finally got his solution. One simple pill. One pill to solve life's biggest problems.

It was a mind-altering pill. Once consumed, you were met with a state of pure bliss. Nothing, not even a bounced check could bring you anger. You as well as every encounter on this pill became...

Unbelievably chipper.

Even your sight changed and the world around you became bright and shining. Glistening with happiness and peace. Few people reported that they saw happy fairies and such.  You were in a complete bliss of LA LA land.

Amazing right?

Of course, it is. Who wouldn't want to be happy all the time? Who wouldn't want instant happiness with just one pill? Who would dare go against everything happy?

Who wouldn't want to forget their past?

 "Finally..." Taehyung took his seat in front of a microscope in his pristine laboratory, something that he had put together once he graduated, he felt accomplished

You agreed with Taehyung's point of view. You thought that happiness is a choice but it shouldn't be something that's so hard to obtain. But as you continued to work alongside Taehyung, you started to see things that were a bit...off.

Many of the testers would forget simple things like locking their doors, and where they may have placed their keys. Some forgot how to tie their shoes or their shoes altogether. It wasn't too big of a concern but you did find it odd since this drug was only to change your mood, not alter your mind. Since the pill was still in its early stages, you thought with more work and research it would fix itself. But you still told Taehyung about it, just so he's aware.

"Everything is moving smoothly. The only slight issue would be that they're becoming forgetful. It's mainly small things like locking doors and tying shoes. It'll come back to them after a few moments but they forget every time after taking the pill. It's not a pressing matter but I thought I'd let you know." You said holding onto your clipboard as both you and Taehuyng observed the testers. He took your findings and read over them closely, followed by a smile.

"That does not concern me and it should concern you either. Some things are okay to forget...as long as they're happy darling. That's all we care about."

He handed you back your clipboard and gave you a reassuring smile, heading to the exit, leaving you to finish up your work before leaving yourself. You sighed and turned back to the tester to get a better observation. You saw something you hadn't realized before.

While on the pill, their pupils were significantly smaller than normal and they had a falsified smile plastered on their faces. The smile for sure didn't look genuine, it looked like a smile you would give to someone you didn't care for but you had to be kind. It kind of freaked you out a bit.

Nevertheless, they all reported being happy and joyful.

Maybe even too happy and joyful.

As long as they stayed in this phase, it wouldn't be too bad. 

It's too late now to make any changes, in just a few weeks you will be presenting this supplement. You can't turn back. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

20201320

Taehyung put out an ad offering money and the chance to be in a magazine that wanted to interview him and the testers to anyone who was willing to try out Joy. The conditions were simple.

All they had to do was show up and take the joy, then go on with their daily lives. Then they or their family would come and give reports on how they felt (and)or how they reacted to things.

Especially negative things. 

You greeted the townies like you did every morning, handing their preferred flavor of joy. Strawberry, Chocolate, Vanilla, or on special occasions, mixed berries.  Stopping at Clara, a newlywed and new mother, you smiled, "Hello Clara, how's the baby?" To your surprise, she frowns, rather confused. 

"Baby? Who had a child beloved?" she asked genuinely causing you to let out a small laugh, thinking she was just pulling your leg. 

"No seriously, what's it like being a mother? How's baby Liam?" you asked again handing her the supplement and finally seeing her confused face. "Mmm," she started. 

"I think you have me mistaken for someone else love, I haven't got a child. I hardly have a spouse darling" She responded, taking the joy and leaving you dumbfounded. 

You knew some things would be forgetful but a child? Especially a child she sees every single day? How could one forget a child especially one that they carried for nine months?

He is the smartest man in town. Too smart, some would say. He used to work with Taehyung until they had a little disagreement over the terms and agreements. Around the same time, Joon got an amazing offer to work on the council, so leaving wasn't that hard. Along with Kim Seokjin, they make the decisions according to the towns they are over. So, Namjoon will be the golden ticket to get this supplement passed.

Sadly, Namjoon didn't agree with the "joy" pill. He didn't like the fact of someone dictating someone's happiness, even if it promoted safer environments. He thought happiness should come to someone voluntarily, not forced. He hated that you were working on this project because he didn't want to step on your toes. He saw how proud you were. He knew you had good intentions but he knew Taehyung did not.

"How was work princess? Anything new?" He asked rubbing small circles against the middle of your back.

You hummed, "Work was the same as usual although something weird did occur today." Namjoon raised his eyebrow slightly before answering, "Like?"

"You know Mrs. Johnson is one of the 20 that we've pulled to try out Joy right? Well, today I asked her about her baby but she told me that she didn't have one. She even implied that she wasn't married. She seemed completely confused when I asked." You said wrapping your arm around Joonie's torso and holding onto him tightly. His hand slightly paused in the middle of your back as you continued.

"Is that right?"

"Mmm, yeah. Either she seriously lost her mind or she's an amazing actress."

"It's actually funny that you said that," Joon frowned, "I was talking to Ty'Rik earlier this afternoon and he told me Clara wasn't herself." You sat up a little, laying your chin gently on Joon's shoulder. "Yeah? What all did he say?"

"She's been rather forgetful," Joon continued. "She has no real grasp of reality. She's still her positive self but it's more overbearing. He could speak about something realistically, not so negative or positive and she'll become angry. "

You frowned and listened to your fiancé's words. "Is that a side effect?" He asked. You shook your head.

"Well yes and no. Being forgetful, yes, unfortunately, but being overly positive and offended when someone says something negative isn't. Joy is supposed to suppress those negative feelings, making them disappear altogether. Even if someone around you is being negative, it shouldn't have an effect on a person that's on Joy."

The wheels in Joon's head were turning. If he had any doubts about stopping this thing from being on the street. He didn't anymore. He didn't want to go against you nor did he want to discredit all the hard work you and Taehyung did, but day by day he was hearing more things about this Drug that didn't sit right with him. As much as he was proud of how far you've come, he couldn't risk the lives of the townies.

"Maybe this isn't a good idea, my love."

"It's still being worked on! It'll be perfected soon" You kissed your future husband.

He wanted to believe you. But sadly he couldn't. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day of the presentation came and you were nervous. You and Taehyung had been perfecting this for a year and it all comes down to this.  Of course, it still has its flaws still, but it was nothing that you couldn't fix. You were proud of this and you knew Taehyung was just as proud. 

"Why should I make this...supplement a part of everyday living? Why can't we just leave it up for the townies to choose, whether or not they want to? It seems a little demanding"

Seokjin asked looking over the paperwork with Joon. Namjoon kept looking through the data, the reports, your notes, and Taehyungs. It didn't match up. Your notes were very similar to Taehyung's but very different from what you would tell him. 

"Because this pill will not only keep the people of this town happy and content, it'll keep the crime rates down, no one will have to worry about their safety, their belongings. If everyone is happy and getting along, there won't be any need to worry. This will be the safest town on earth for children, women, and men alike! Who wouldn't want to live in peace? It's like living in Heaven before you die and you..."

Taehyung smiled and sat back in his chair before continuing, "You'll be the one man on this forsaken earth, That has 100 percent control over his people. Everyone, everyone, will be dying to know how you did it. How-" 

 "You speak of the townies as if they're puppets, in need of control. They are not." Joon interrupted.

Almost instantly, your eyes shot right at Joon's, pleading with him not to go any further. "I assure you, it's not like that," You said cheerfully, deeply hoping Joon would leave it where it was. 

Taehyung chuckled, rubbing your shoulders. "No, no. Not puppets, that would be rude of me. I see the townies as people that need a bit more guidance." Joon adjusted himself in his chair.  

"So shoving a mind-altering drug down their throat is the way to do it?"

"Mind-altering? That's insane, that would make me a monster. I don't want to change their mind, I want to change the way they think. Think of it as you going to a bar and having a drink with friends or a lovely night out with your stunning, beautiful wife, you know, Something fun but not all the memorable?" Taehyung smirked. 

Your head snapped at Tae frowning. Joon opened his mouth to speak but Seokjin raised his hand and looked over at Joon. "I understand you are concerned Joon, People should have the choice if they choose to participate,"

Joon nodded. "However," Seokjin continued, "I think we should give it a test run, just to see how it goes. It shouldn't be too harmful How long does it take effect?"

"It's effective immediately. As soon as you take it, it induces happiness and euphoria, it shouldn't affect everyday life" you said, "It's just like taking a vitamin daily, or as needed."

Namjoon couldn't believe what he was hearing. He didn't want to step on your toes or anything but he couldn't believe you or Seokjin couldn't see through Taehyung's empty promises. Displeasure was all over his face, and he didn't care to hide it.

"You can't be serious? Mrs. Johnson forgot about her child and her husband. Is that not concerning enough?" Joon whispered to Sekojin. 

Seokjin nodded before turning to Taehyung. 

"It's my understanding that Mrs. Johnson has shown reports of extreme forgetfulness. Forgetting her young child and husband. What do you have to say for that?" 

You were choked up. You didn't think Namjoon would go back to Seokjin and tell him what you've told him in confidence. Even Taehyung was taken by surprise but he couldn't let it show that long. 

"Yes, that is true. Mrs. Johnson is a rare case. We're running a few tests to see if they are underlining effects that we've missed with the batch she had but I assure you, that the new batch does not have the same effect." 

Seokjin turned to Namjoon and whispered "Listen, I say we give them a month, see how it works, and then allow the townies to decide if this is a great choice. Besides," he paused looking at you then back at Joon. "I don't think you want to upset the future wife"

"My fiancee's and I relationship has nothing to do with my decisions as a general on this council. So I would much prefer that we keep outside relationships, outside. Here, no matter friend or wife, the lives of the townies are my main concern."

Seokjin sighed and nodded. "I understand that." 

Namjoon was stern. You of course meant a lot to him and he usually agrees with your mindset since it's a lot like his. But this is something he could never agree on, not even for his engagement. Not even for you.

Taehyung chuckled upon hearing Namjoon's statement to Seokjin. "That's too bad. I'd put my wife's well-being over everything..even the townies." Taehyung challenged.

"She is a townie. She's included"

"But she's firstly your wife than a simple townie"

"In here, as I stated, she's someone who's advertising something for the townies. So for now, none of that matters."   

~~~~~~~~~

"𝐼𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝐽𝑜𝑦! 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑛𝑜𝑟𝑚! 𝐴 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ���𝑎𝑓𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡! 𝐼𝑛 3 𝑦𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑦-"

Joon turned the TV off as this was the 7th time he had seen the same commercial in the past hour. He couldn't believe that it was already being advertised like this when the meeting was only held a few mornings ago.

It had only been a few days since it became a temporary law that everyone had to take this daily supplement. Joon wasn't even going to attempt to take the supplement. He hadn't tried it and didn't plan on it.

He knew that pissed you off but he couldn't agree. He couldn't, not with all the side effects, the stories you told him, and from the meeting? He was positive there was a hidden agenda somewhere. Dropping the remote on the table he headed back to your home office, leaning on the door frame.

"Princess, are you sure this is really the best thing for the townies? You said it yourself, Clara Johnson forgot about her husband and her newborn baby, that's abnormal. What happens to them if they both take it? What happens to baby Liam?"

Joon asked genuinely concerned for the well-being of the helpless child.

You've been in this yelling match all day. You turned to Joon and sighed. He's been asking questions nonstop which was fine but it seems like no matter what answer you gave, it was never enough.

"She must have gotten a bad batch, I don't think anything to worry about. Quite frankly, Liam is going to have a safe place to live and play, he'll have a safe place to flourish. Like our children will."

You said setting down your papers and walking towards Joon, wrapping your arms around his torso.

"If we even have children. We don't even know if it's safe to take while pregnant. You said that there were some formulations that you weren't there for. And honestly, if it makes you forget stuff I don't think want you to take this either." He spat.

You sighed and ran your fingers through your hair, hanging your head back onto your shoulders, sighing loudly.

"You said you supported me and that what Tae and I were could be a great thing." You said.

"I did, but it's one thing to have it as a choice and to force it. You failed to mention that you both had plans to make this a law and force everyone but children to take this." You began to play with your fingers.

"We-well, I didn't necessarily know he was going to make it a law, I simply thought we were just getting it approved. I didn't have any intentions of going any further" You answered truthfully.

Joon's face fell. How is no one seeing the red flags he's been seeing?

"Baby," he started as he sat in front of you and gripped your hand. "Don't you see this as a problem? You're his partner and he didn't even tell you his plans? There is no telling what he’s doing behind your back"

You sighed. "Maybe it just slipped his mind or he told me and I just forgot baby. Joonie, I wouldn't do anything or make anything that would hurt this world, our future, our friends, and definitely not you." You said holding his hand.

"Please, just trust me..."

[newsies-are-the-new-best-thing]

Saving others and yourself

Part 5 of my trans Davey series, 'my courage, found'

<prev & next> masterlist

Trigger Warnings: minor misgendering, mentioned character injury, unsafe binding possibly.

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

Everything is much too busy. Hurried footsteps crash around at all hours. Worried mutters a constant buzz between the adults. Davey is trapped in the middle of it all, unhearing, unmoving. He has no idea what he is supposed to do. Should he help tend to his father? Should he cook for his mother? There are no instructions to follow yet, everything tentative. Fear and worry hang heavy in the air, dampening the apartment, an oppressive smog that Davey wishes would disappear. Neighbors come and go, friends and other family visiting in a loud flurry, leaving mountains of food, and whispered prayers in their wake. Tears are a stagnant constant in his eyes, refusing to fall, burning in grief and fear. His heart has stopped, no longer quick to race, a hardened weight inside. In the end standing still gets him no where and he ends up being forced into the kitchen, cramped together with all the women who come to visit, ignoring the twist of familiar discomfort curling inside, and told to make himself useful.

He winds up learning as much as he can on unions, desperate to understand how his father could be fired for being injured, desperate to be useful in a different way in the future. With the recent trolly strike being reported in near every major paper all he had to do was beg and barter with his brother to go out and buy a ‘pape for him, afraid of running into a newsie he knew, and then he read. Throwing himself into consuming every new paper at any free chance he had in those first few, terrible days, he read and re-read the struggles the workers were facing, why they were doing what they were, what a union did, and everything else he could find.

And so, the week begins to slowly pass. And Davey sees his mother’s face being etched with worry as she shuffles through the bills that were beginning to pile up and the dwindling savings. His father will not die, his family is assured by the doctor, but he will be unable to stand for longer than a few minutes for at least a month, being currently confined to bed. And with this, Davey feels a crushing weight slip off his shoulders and a new one press down. Pushing aside his twisting gut and the stacking heaviness, Davey allows his mother to sit him down with his siblings, catching a glance of his sister’s face, an amalgam of uneasiness and concern. The dining table they are surrounding has been worn by time, and Davey let’s his hands trace the familiar grain, hoping to calm himself. It’s nearing noon by now, bright light filtering into the kitchen, alarmed neighbors having taken most of the morning trying to comfort their mother.

“With your father injured and out of work I am afraid that I will have to go out and get work.” His mother breathes out, face turned downwards, clutching a cup of tea that has long since cooled.

His heart cracks, splintering more than it already has, to see his mother defeated by the world in such an awful way.

“Ma,” he begins, forcing away his own pain, clearing his mind “we will do whatever you want us to. But you have to take care of yourself, this situation has been dreadful, but you can’t go out and wear yourself down while we stay here perfectly capable. I’m sure that we can find work somewhere, there is no need to exhaust yourself when we can help.”

His mother looks up, saddened eyes meeting his, and she nods slightly, frowning. Les and Sarah have both turned to stare at him as well, firm looks fixed on their faces.

“I’m sure that me and Davey can find work cleaning or sewing, and Les is sure to be a good newsie.” Sarah states, moving to clutch their mother’s hand in hers.

A sinking knot, tangles inside but Davey pays it no mind, pushing it far away as he had for the past few days, there is no time for his own discomfort, he thinks.

“I am so sorry for asking you to do this” his mother says, reaching into her pocket for a handkerchief, and dabbing at her eyes. “You should be in school, should be children.”

“Sarah and I are practically fully grown Ma, I think it’s time for us to face the world.” Davey replies.

“…. Mrs. Cohen had asked about you watching her youngest children for a few hours every day, had offered to pay you for it, Sarah” their mother tells Sarah after a few moments of silence.

“That sounds like a fine plan to me” Sarah responds, gently smiling.

“And Davey,” their mother looks at him, face lighter and shoulders relaxed “There is sure to be work in the garment district. You and Les can go out looking tomorrow.”

Davey nods his head. Les looks excited, possibly too much, at the opportunity to work but Davey is just glad that he no longer looks as frightened as he had earlier in the week. He continues to discuss the details with his mother and sister, laying out a plan where he was to drop Les off at the distribution gate to sell ‘papes and then find work in the garment district or at one of the shops nearby. Sarah would stay home and care for their father and then work in the afternoons, allowing their mother to find rest after the terrible week they had.

That night, as the city begins to slow down, a blanket of stars sweeping over the sky, the crisp air begins to chill Davey’s tiny room. Rough floorboards do little to capture any warmth and Davey finds himself burrowing under his thinning covers soon after he’s retired to sleep. He’s sure that Sarah and Les are perfectly warm in their room but even the harkening summer season has its cold nights and Davey wonders if the newsies are feeling any better. With a sigh, Davey lets himself wonder what tomorrow will bring, he will do whatever he has to, to care for his family, even if that means pushing aside his own storm of feelings. But he also knows how absent he can be when he’s pushed into his role, how many dangerous mistakes could happen if he were to sink too far away again, unaware, and unable to escape the haze he finds himself settle into and stop himself. A flipping knot of worry takes up residence in his gut and he turns over, trying to find some sort of rest. There is no resolution to this problem, he cannot seem to find a solution where he can help support his family and be himself. He chides himself in his mind when he finds himself plagued by this problem. It’s selfish, really, he thinks, to be dwelling on such struggles when his father is still injured. The worries still weigh on his mind.

He doesn’t find much sleep that night, waking groggy and tired the next morning, worry still twisted around inside. A new worry has sprung from his restless night and stayed stuck in his mind, if Les is to find work as a newsie what is stopping him from meeting Jack and connecting the dots or bringing someone Davey knows back home. It seems farfetched, at least a little bit, but he can’t dismiss it as he joins his sister in the kitchen to help with breakfast.

After eating, his mother and sister waltz into his room and rummage around in his small dresser, laying out the nicest day clothes they can find. His heart leaps every time they pick through his clothes, fear gnawing in his stomach. But thankfully, they do not discover his roll of fabric concealing his other clothes. Instead, his mother coos over how wonderful he looks after he forces himself to dress, smoothing down the skirts he’s trying desperately to forget he is wearing. His sister ends up fixing one of her small broaches to his shirt, smiling quietly at him. His heart lurches at the gesture, guilt raising its head when he can’t quite seem to find the same joy in the way he looks that his sister and mother do. As they leave, Les bubbling with excitement, his mother pushes a few cents into his hand, and then they are shooed out the door with wishes of luck.

Outside its bouncing with a wild energy, summer beginning to fully show despite the cold night, sun bright and near blinding as it enters the sky. Rays dusting over the top of buildings, catching and dancing into the dozens of shadows of the crowds rushing about. A warmth is hinted upon the city air, a promise of something new, something good, and Davey let’s himself relax slightly, comforted by the atmosphere of the city.

He has a hasty plan of how to escape the crushing feeling of pretending to be someone he is not, an idea that came late last night in the pressing darkness and had refused to be silenced. Desperate and absurd, the idea is sure to only work if he lets Les know who he is. It’s a terrifying thought, to let his brother in on something as large, as personal, as intricate as the secret he holds. His heart begins to speed up just thinking about it, but he shoves it aside, trying to not dwell on what he is about to do. Ignoring his growing panic, he reminds himself of the candy-like joy that melts inside when he is truly himself and holds that feeling inside. Glancing around for Les who is bounding around a few paces in front of him, he waves for the other to follow him, and leads them to the back alley his fire escape leads to. Rough brick lines the deserted alley, and he leans against it, carefully pressing his back to the cool wall. Les appears confused but he stops and stares up at Davey. Folding his arms over his chest in attempt to hide it and his shaking hands, Davey begins to speak to his brother.

“Les, I have to tell you something, it’s important” he says hurriedly over the bustling city, looking down at where Les is impatiently standing.

“What is it?” Les asks, curiosity written on his face.

Swallowing down the still present panic, Davey says firmly,

“I’m not your sister. I’m more like your brother. F-” he breaths out and steadies himself “For some reason I’m not a girl, even if I was born one…I’m not, I’m a boy, like you, do you understand?”

Les is silent for a few moments, face a puzzling mix of emotions Davey can’t read and his heart starts to race, pounding harshly in his tightening chest. After an eternity passes, Les responds.

“You’re a boy even though everyone thinks you’re a girl? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Ye-yes, I am.”

“That kinda makes sense, thanks for tellin’ me, I guess” Les says, and Davey feels his heart stumble at the acceptance, worry dying to a low simmer. The world comes slamming back to him, noises no longer muddled but now bright and clear drift from the street in a rush, and he lets out a shallow breath. Les is quick to clutch him into an awkward sort of hug and Davey blinks away the tears that have collected in his eyes, returning the hug.

“Thank you, Les.” Davey says, releasing Les and standing up, “You have to promise me that you won’t tell anyone else, alright?”

“Yeah, I promise. It’s a secret between brothers, right?” Les says smiling and then holds out his hand.

“…. Yes, so it is very important to keep it” Davey says shakily, grasping Les’s hand and shaking it.

“Are we going to find work now?” Les asks.

“Yes, let me go change and then we can go.”

A new bought of confusion begins to cloud Les’s face but he stays quite as Davey begins to climb the ladder to his room. Sliding through his window, he slips out of his skirts and into the trousers, flings off his shirt and wraps his chest tightly, dresses fully and then adjusts his cap until it looks right on his head. Aching sweet joy sweeps through him as he descends the ladder back to Les, a happiness he never feels living as a woman, courses through him and he breathes out a quiet sigh of relief.

“What happened to your hair?” Les blurts out when he catches a fully look at Davey.

Smiling gently at Les, he adjusts the bag he grabbed, hoisting it over his shoulder, and tries to find his lower pitched voice. “I cut my hair a few months ago, I needed a change.” Les nods his head at that in a serious way, unbothered by Davey’s change in voice.

“Now, Let’s go, I’m going to sell papers with you.” Davey says, smiling at Les and leading them out of the alley.

Les’s excitement seems to return twofold as the make their way toward the distribution gate, a place Davey has heard a few tales about. As they walk, weaving through the already heavily crowded streets, Les asks a rush of questions ranging from when exactly Davey cut his hair to what type of food, he likes most as a boy, a question which perplexes Davey in multiple ways.

“What should I call you?” Les asks, while hopping over cracks in the street.

“Well, you can say I’m your brother, that my name is David.” Davey says a small smile lighting on his face when he says his name out loud.

“David? So, I should say you’re my brother David if someone asks?”

Davey nods, smile widening. And then Les is asking something else.

Eventually they reach the gate and Davey steels himself for the recognition he is bound to face from the newsies, slightly concerned that Les will share his identity with the others. When he approaches with Les towards the end of the haphazard line of newsies, he is mildly surprised when the others don’t identify him, but he can’t really fault them since only Jack, Race, and Crutchie have ever fully seen him out in daylight. Les is tugging on his arm in excitement as they shuffle forwards toward Wiesel or “Weasel” as the newsies call him, and Davey slips the cents out of his pocket, readjusting the strap of his bag where it presses on his chest bindings at an uncomfortable angle. Ahead of him, Jack is grabbing his papers, chatting with the others, and then stops nearby where a small group was forming. Davey keeps himself quiet, a bit unsure how to begin explaining what he was doing there. When Davey approaches “Weasel” he finds the gruff man staring intently down at him. Choking back the rush of panic that is surging up inside, he hopes that there is nothing to give away who he is.

“Get a look a’ that, a new kid, huh?” Wiesel spits out, looking him up and down.

Les lets out a loud protest of also being new to selling the ‘pape and Jack looks up from where he’s crowded with Crutchie and meets Davey’s eyes. A startled laugh spills out and then a chorus of gleeful shouts fills the air as the others spot him.

“Take your ‘papes and move along” Wiesel hollers out over the clamor and Davey hurriedly drops his payment into the tin, stumbling slightly in pain when one of the Delancey’s shoves the papers harshly into his chest. He ushers Les off to the side for a moment, and flips through the pages quickly, tallying the total.

“Hey, excuse me” He blurts out before he can think better of it “I paid for twenty, but you gave me nineteen.”

“No way, beat it kid.” Wiesel barks

“Look, I just want what I paid for-”

“He said beat it” A Delancey brother says harshly, face a mixture of anger and excitement. Jack has sauntered his way over to them as the other news boys look on in a mixture of tentative interest and caution. Jack is clearly irritated by Wiesel’s attitude and the Delancey’s presence although his appearance is all peaceful charm, protective nature rearing up and urging him to stand up for Davey. Once he’s close enough he is quick to take the other’s papers and counts them as well.

“Woah! Mouth’s right, Wiesel-ly, you’s gave ‘im nineteen.” He says sharply leveling a deadly stare at Wiesel.

“I’m sure it’s an honest mistake, on accounts that Oscar can’t count ta’ tweny with his shoes on tight.”

A surge of roaring laughter and cheering from the newsies along with angered spluttering from Wiesel and his hired help swarms the air. A bright grin lights Jack’s face as he turns back towards Davey who also begins to smile, a warmth growing in his chest when he glances around to see all the boys he’s come to view as friends, gathered together.

“Hey, gives my friend fifty more ‘papes” Jack says, slamming down a quarter at Wiesel.

Guilt sprouts inside Davey’s gut, and he attempts to protest Jack’s charity, but he is quickly outnumbered by the others. So, Davey lets Jack sling an arm over his shoulders and steer him towards the others with another stack of papers in his bag.

“Well, Mouth?” Jack asks, smile wide, “What’s you’se doin’ here gettin’ ‘papes?”

“He’s here to help our family” Les says proudly, sneaking around from where he was trailing behind Davey and bounding up on the other side of Jack. Davey breathes an inner sigh of relief and enjoys the happiness that springs up from Les switching so easily to seeing him as a boy.

“Who are you?” Les asks loudly. Before Davey can begin to lament forgoing telling Les about his midnight escapades and how he already knows the newsies, Jack responds.

“Names Jack, who are you’s?” He asks, stopping in front of the others and looking down at Les.

“I’m Les and that’s my brother David,” Les says steadily and Davey’s heart fills with honeyed joy at the still novel sound of his brother speaking of Davey in a way that reflected who he truly is and he lets a small smile slip onto his lips. “How do you know him? And who’s Mouth?” Les asks.

Jack looks over at Davey, an expression full of confusion painted on his face as well as the other boys. A tangle of worry knots inside his gut and Davey attempts to find an explanation.

“He’s Mouth ‘cause he don’t talks that much” Race juts in to answer Les when Davey is silent for too long. He’s leaning cheekily against Albert and gestures towards Davey with his cigar.

“How come you’s here if you’s got school today?” Crutchie questions over the jumbled muttering of the others.

“Alrights, tell the me and the fellas’ whats goin’ on” Jack says, slipping his arm off Davey’s shoulders and facing him fully.

Readjusting his voice to sound lower, Davey re-counts the past week, skirting around the more difficult details. The others, especially Race appear delighted when he fully clarifies who Les is, bright grins turning towards his younger brother who is still standing there with a confused expression. When he finishes telling them, Jack’s face has sobered.

“Sound’s awful, Mouth” he says lowly, a few of the other boys slap him gently on the back in a show of rough yet comforting, sympathy.

“It’s better now… I just need to make sure I sell all my ‘papes to help my father and family” Davey says, trying to steer away from his home-life and the dangers that came with speaking about it.

“I’s sure that if you’se stick with Jack you’ll sell outta ‘papes in no time” Crutchie says. Jack nods at this and Davey feels a weight drop off his shoulders. He’s glad he will no longer have to worry about trying to learn how to sell with Les and slightly (more than slightly) happy that he will get to spend a bit of time with his friend as well.

“Davey said that we could sell fifty a day” Les says, finally having become fed up with how perplexing the situation is, deciding to follow the portion of the conversation he understood.

“I’m sure we’se could sell near a thousand a week if ya’ stick with me.” Jack says and then looking down at Les, “Sos, you’se Mouth’s younger brother, huh? How old are ya’?”

“I’m almost ten! Could we really sell a thousand?”

“Sure! Jus’ as long as you’s say you’re seven, got it?” Jack says through a smirk, tousling the hat on Les’s head.

Davey is genuinely concerned that Les is more likely to abandon their family for the newsies than him. After clearing up any remaining confusion, Davey has found himself meandering towards wherever Jack wants them to sell, listening to his younger brother and friend converse excitedly. Wide grins sit upon both of their faces as Les tries to explain some-sort of prank he had pulled with a school friend to the older boy who is listening enraptured. Letting his shoulders untense and relaxing his jaw, Davey breathes in a slow, easy breath of the early summer air. There is a soul-sweet relief from the absence of some of the worry that has inundated his adventures and he smiles slightly at the joy that takes up residence in it’s place. He’s glad to be here in some selfish way, glad he can be himself with his brother at his side, living life as he so wishes. And he finds himself hating that small portion of himself that is glad, because his father is still injured and his fam

[antisatiric]

does twain feel like he isn’t in control of his life due to his connection to 44 ? is his contract with 44 something that he necessarily dreads or regrets ?

oh wow! i don't get anons often so this is a lovely surprise that i've dropped everything to answer right away haha.

as with most things regarding 44 and twain's views on his own life, the answer is unfortunately rather complicated. as i've stated before, his connection with 44 and the work he does for 44 are both things that he ultimately consented to doing, albeit as an alternative to dying before he could ever really live his own life, so on some level he does regard his choice to have undertaken that as... well, a choice.

and he does like the work; the necessity of traveling and speaking to others because of what he currently does for 44 is something he regards as a blessing in disguise, even if that constant travel is ultimately harmful for him... that is to say, while he's being driven and motivated to live a certain way because of his circumstances, the fact that he enjoys living that way or at least wants to enjoy it means that he views himself as having more freedom than he does.

as for the second part of your question... it's only natural that twain dreads the contract more and more as the days go on. practically speaking, it's incredibly unlikely that something will happen to 44 in his lifetime, since 44 has been around since the beginning of communciation through writing on earth specifically, but he dreads the idea of something happening that WOULD necessitate him becoming the inheritor of the archives, since it would mean forfeiting his right to both personhood and death.

so, i would say he dreads it. he doesn't regret it for an instant, though. when 44 fished him up from the mississippi, it was because---verbally or otherwise---in his dying moments, he had cried out desparately for help, having changed his mind about the pointlessness of continuing to live. not that he's had an easy life since that point, but he's come to regard the world as a very beautiful place, and i think he would have regretted it more if he had said "no" and let 44 leave him to drown on the riverbank.

um, so, tl;dr---no, he doesn't really view his life as being out of control, yes he dreads the terms of his contract more and more every day, and no he has no regrets about having allowed the contract.

unprompted. / always accepting.

[unohanabbygirl]

I actually think a fmbh au where circumstances (either Otto’s planning or Luke saying he’s not a Virgin in order to get out of it) see Aemond being the one people look to to carry the child. As you’ve said it would be an extremely traumatic event for him and I def think Luke would command Aemond to be silent on their wedding night while he messed up the sheets and cut his own hand to fake the blood. Pressured by Otto, you are tots right he would refuse to switch position even if Luke offered so I think Luke would def use his position as Aemond’s lord and husband to accept a faked bedding. This au would be so interesting because I feel like Alicent and Otto would pressure Aemond into continually trying to seduce Luke when a baby obviously didn’t arrive. In your story, Luke and Aemond kept coming back to each other for sexual release not only for their own sense of loyalties to not cheat, but also because they had slept together with assigned rolls on their wedding night that fit the comfort they had in their own bodies. Hate sex is a powerful way to draw characters to each other, but I think with this wedding night of Aemond being forced to bottom, they would never return to each other sexually so easily as we might see in fmbh. What would the story look like of their marriage was a stale one with no sex because Aemond was terrified of his own body which turned to even worse resentment, and Luke hated Aemond too from the start so he wasn’t about to spread his own legs. Thoughts??

You’re spot on. Having sex with someone you don’t even like is already bad enough but being forced to fit yourself into a role you’ve never been comfortable with whilst forced to acknowledge a part of yourself that you’ve been taught to view as shameful would def create a barrier between these two that wouldn’t allow for the dynamic we currently see to flourish. Since in this scenario the bedding was faked and they never actually had sex no emotional nor physical ties are created (which is good considering it would’ve been incredibly traumatic for both of them but especially Aemond). There’s no urge to seek each other out for more despite the hatred there, no dealing with a sudden desire to have that connection once more since hate is incredibly powerful and oftentimes goes hand in hand with lust. That lust soon having turned into genuine desire and an urge for affection.

Aemond would begin to view having sex with Luke as something to dread for the simple fact that his mother and Grandfather want him to carry on the Hightower line through Driftmark. I can clearly see a constant pressure on his shoulders throughout the years to finally go through with it just to get things over with and honor his families wishes, but always falling through last minute. Memories of Luke on top of him with pity in his eyes inspiring such anger because he’s put his body through years of training to never be seen as weak again. Shame that his nephew even saw him in such a state at all. He can’t follow through even when he feels like a complete failure every time his mother asks him if he’s yet with child only for the answer to be “no” time and time again. Theres too much negative emotion there to inspire anything other than hate and frustration.

It’s the same for Luke to a certain extent; while he surely doesn’t like Aemond he can’t help but feel horrible. He isn’t blind, he knows his husband is dealing with constant pressure to bear an heir no matter how much Luke insists it won’t be necessary as his point anout Driftmark passing through one of his sisters still stands. There’s pity alongside his dislike as well as sadness. Rhaenyra would never in a million years do something like that to him, so to see Alicent’s eyes on Aemond’s belly is hurtful. And he isn’t even the person her presence is digging into.

Luke is 100% the sort of man who’d want to have a discussion after x amount of years has passed because it’s that much of a sore spot. But Aemond refuses off jump; it’s bad enough he’s expected to act as Luke’s broodmare, why must he open himself up emotionally as well? Especially to the person who took his eye and still to this day has never apologized (at least in this Au)

However, I do see Laena being the one who slowly brings them together. Alicent would likely insist that Aemond take to her like a mother would in perpetration for when its his own time. At first he isn’t all that receptive because he’d always imagined if he were to have children he’d be a father rather than a mother, but soon enough he actually finds himself relaxed with parenting. If Laena cries he takes to her instead of servants, if she’s hungry he’ll stay and watch as she’s fed. Of course Luke’s there, so taking care of her would open them up to each other slowly yet surely.