#I don’t know by brain is combining my two longest fixations

[fixated-addict13]

A Dead Boy Detectives x SPN Au?

It’s 1989 and Edwin Payne comes from a long line of Men that were members of the British Men of Letters. His father, while cold, has been teaching him about the occult for as long as he can remember, preparing him to eventually join the organization. While the organization has been successful in dealing with many monster attacks, a recent surge in demonic activity in the country and around the world prove concerning. Edwin wants to help the organization, but is still told he is too young, so his days he is still a student at St. Hilarions, a school he transferred to after an incident where some boys attempted to sacrifice him to Hell. Luckily, Edwin had the proper demonic wards on him to prevent him actually going there. He keeps to himself at the school, preferring his books over talking to his classmates. This all changes when he sees a student running from other boys one night, dripping wet, and he sees something he can’t explain, something which at first scares him but he still follows him. In the attic, he meets Charles Rowland.

Charles’s biological father died in a fire when he was 6 months old, a fire that went off in his nursery. His mother swears she saw something but no one ever believed her, they just called her crazy, a woman carrying with her the superstitions of her country. His mom remarried, his step-father, Paul Rowland. A real piece of shit that Charles hates but wants to approval from… he just wants him to love him. So, he does Cricket, he plays rugby, he plays all types of sports and he’s great at it! He even gets a scholarship to go to St. Hilarions, and even if his step-dad is… rough. He lets him go and he thinks that maybe he could be great. But then on his 16th birthday things start to get weird… like okay he’s always gotten night terrors as a kid but now he’s seeing things, like yellow eyes and it’s fine right? Yeah it’s fine. It just happens sometimes and then a lot of the times but he’s cool. Then, he starts to feel more eyes on him at school then usual, but ignores it. And then he’s being thrown into a lake after defending a Pakistani student and he’s soaking wet, his ribs hurt, he coughs and blood coats his tongue and his head is POUNDING, but the boys are chasing after him and he runs and runs and runs… they catch up to him and there’s this something in his chest that builds and builds and builds as they grab at him and he struggles and… suddenly they let go off him, suddenly his body feels less full but there’s a dull sensation in his head and blood coming down his nose and the boys are thrown around and the ones still awake look proper terrified so he runs. He needs a place to hide.

- - -

Maybe i’ll make a full AU and story with it idk, i still gotta finish other ones. But there’s my rant :)

[breakyourhaloandley]

01: All I Need Is One More Broken Heart

I let out a shaky breath, smoke seeping out from between my lips. The small exhaust fan above me is buzzing, threatening to break any day now just like everything else in this apartment. Jake would kill me if he knew I was smoking inside, but I don’t see how it matters. This place is a glorified garbage heap so a little cigarette smoke isn’t going to make a difference. 

Lifting the bottle of white wine up to my lips I take a long drink before staring back at the person in the mirror. I don’t know what time it is, nor do I really care, but I’m sure it’s not the ‘proper’ time to be drinking, whatever that means. Black eyeliner is smudged under my eyes and my long black hair is in desperate need of brushing. I’ll get to it later, sometime when I’m not stuck in a fucking spiral of drunkenness, sadness and utter lack of care for my wellbeing. 

The front door clicks and I hear someone fumbling with keys, I guess Jake is back. I flick the rest of my cigarette into the toilet before flushing away the evidence. I stumble, almost losing my balance as I make my way up to the kitchen where he’s fixing himself a plate of questionable Chinese leftovers. 

His eyes dart up to me, and he doesn’t even have to say anything. I see it in his disappointed scowl. “It’s two o’clock in the afternoon Andy,” he states, motioning towards the bottle in my hand. 

“And this is white wine, not liquor.” I retort, needing anything but a lecture from one of my bandmates. None of them have any room to talk. 

“You know we have band practice tonight, right? Tour starts in a week.”  “Don’t remind me” I groan, well aware of the ticking time bomb set to blow up in my face in a matter of days. 

I should be excited, it’s our first major tour. We’re headling the AP Tour this year along with my friend Matt’s band, D.R.U.G.S. I should be, but I’m anything but excited. A few months ago it would have been a totally foreign concept to me, the thought of not wanting to be on tour. Yet things change, people change and in what feels like the blink of an eye the things that used to fill you with joy become your worst fears. 

It’s not that I don’t love music anymore, it’s not that I don’t want to be in this band or that I don’t want to sing anymore. It’s that I don’t want to deal with the things that come with it. The screaming fans who think I’m some perfect fucking idol they should look up to, someone who can save them from themselves when little do they know I can’t even save myself. It’s the interviews, the time schedule, the sleepless nights in a bunk too small for my legs, it’s the loneliness despite being surrounded by people night and day, it’s the expectations. 

I wonder if the fans will notice, notice the new cracks on my perfect exterior where the flawed human being is threatening to breakthrough. I don’t know what happened, but something changed on the last tour. It was as if this darkness had consumed me. The funny thing is that I had actually made a vow to myself at the start of our first tour that I wouldn’t drink. I’d seen alcohol destroy too many of my childhood idols to ever want such evil in my life. 

Like most promises, this one wasn’t kept. It was our second tour and during the kick-off party, I had a fatal lapse in judgment. Someone handed me a drink, the stench of alcohol was potent but I drank it anyway. I can only compare the feeling to someone who is about to drown, and right before they open their mouth and let the water fill their lungs, they manage to resurface gasping for air. All the anxiety, the fear, the demons that have haunted me since childhood were suddenly quiet. I felt free, happy, confident and social. 

I no longer cared what people thought about me, like that life-saving breath of fresh air, I felt alive. 

I guess you could say I went overboard, I started drinking every night and that’s when the darkness started creeping back in. The shadow slowly wrapping its cold fingers around my throat and after the tour ended it spiraled out of control. Bad decisions, at least those that I can remember, haunt me yet I just keep making them. 

So now I have a week before the tour starts, a week to get my shit together.  “And are you fucking listening to me?” Jake snaps, pulling me out of my wine-induced haze. 

“Uh yeah-”  “I said you can’t pull the shit you’ve been pulling on tour. No more ending up on the stage floor crying and making a fool of us. John said that-”  “Thank you, Jake, I’ve seen the videos I don’t need a lecture.” I cut him off. 

---

The walls burst down the second I see him, like floodgates opening-up and memories that I thought were buried suddenly resurface like it was yesterday instead of a month ago. He’s standing there, silky black hair concealing his face. He’s too busy tuning his base to even notice that I’ve walked in. His tattooed fingers work the strings of the instrument and I’ve never been jealous of an inanimate object before now. 

My heart is racing in my chest and I swear to god he has to hear it. I feel a knot in my stomach and I’m not sure if it’s that or the hangover making me feel like I’m going to throw up. Ashley looks up, his caramel eyes fixating on my lanky frame. Eyes dart up and down and wait, was that a grimace? He sets his base down and his boots click as he walks towards me. 

“You okay Six?” he asked, raising a perfectly groomed eyebrow. 

“I’m fine Ash.”  “You’ve lost weight,” he comments, the tone of his voice tells me he doesn’t mean it as a compliment. 

I’ve been steadily dropping weight since our first tour, I don’t know where it got out of control but like most things in my life, it did. God, I want to be fucking wasted right now, anything but dealing with this. 

This dance we’re doing around each other is new, and I don’t know the steps to it. All I know him as is my best friend, the person who’s been there for me since the start, warmth in cold, oxygen to a drowning man. 

I can still feel his lips on mine, the night it all went to hell. It was the last week of the tour and after killing almost an entire bottle of whiskey we made a fatal error. The circumstances that led us to that error are blurry, blacked-out sentences in the story of my life. What I do remember has become my own personal hell that plays on a loop in my brain. 

The heavy motel door slams shut, the outside world ceases to exist as time stands still in some little town in Texas. Those tattooed fingers are dancing along the outline of my hip bones, my back pressed up against the cigarette stained wall. I’ve wanted this moment since we met, to feel his strong arms wrapped around me, to be the center of his attention and desires. And here we are, our lips inches apart, a hurricane about to make landfall. 

His hands glid up my bare skin, following the contours of my torso. A shiver goes down my spine and I feel my heart about to explode. “Kiss me” I whisper my breath catching in my throat. 

Our lips collide and I melt, surrendering myself completely over to him. I part my lips as he slips his tongue into my mouth, his nails digging into my pale flesh. There’s a roughness to it that drives me mad and I can taste the whiskey on his lips. 

He pulls me over towards the bed, falling on top of me as the bed creaks under our combined weight. His fingers lace in my hair before violently pulling it back. I let out a moan all the nerves in my body firing. He has complete control over me, I’m a puppet on strings. 

I tug at his belt, leaning up and whispering in his ear “I want to feel you inside me” I don’t care what the consequences are all that matters is this moment. 

He pushes me back, quickly standing up. My heart stops in my chest as he shakes his head, a disgusted look across his face. “Fuck” he breathes pushing his hair back. 

“W-What?”  “God, what are we doing? No... Andy, I’m not gay. I- fuck I’m drunk. Look we can’t do this, I’m not attracted to you and I’m sure as hell not gonna fuck you.” 

My heart shatters into a million pieces, this has to be a dream... no a nightmare and I will myself to wake up. Only I don’t wake up, “Ashley...” 

“Look I get it, you’re uh- you’re gay. I kind of always suspected that I guess. But I’m not and this isn’t going to happen. We’re bandmates, I’m your friend and we’re both just drunk.” I stopped listening to the words coming out of his mouth but the next thing I knew he was out the door, something about sleeping on the bus. 

We ended up doing the whole awkward day after ‘talk’. Let’s just forget about it, neither of us meant for it to go that far, we can just carry on as if it never happened. Bullshit. 

And now we’re here. It’s been a month since I’ve seen him, the longest we’ve ever gone since he joined the band two years ago. He stares at me, I guess expecting me to say something from this mutually agreed-upon script we’re supposed to be acting out now. Words fail me though, all I feel is the lump in my throat and it feels like it is suffocating me. 

“You’re taking care of yourself, right? You said you were going to get better about that. Cutting down on cigarettes and drinking, eating better.” I can’t tell if the concern in his voice is real or just for show. Did I even say that? Maybe I did, but I didn’t mean it. 

“I’m not going to drink this tour.”  “One out of three is better than nothing I guess.” he jokes, though I don’t think he believes me. 

“I uh- I’ll be back in a sec.” I manage to get out before brushing past him and away from the others. 

I barely make it into the bathroom of the studio before breaking down. Air is hard to find as I gasp for breath, the tightness in my chest getting so bad that I swear I’m going to pass out. I brace myself against the sink, my knuckles turning white from the death grip I have on it. Tears well up in my eyes before falling, mixing with the black shadow around my eyes into long black streaks down my face. 

There is no way I’m going to be able to do this tour sober, I don’t know why I’m fooling myself. I want nothing more than to be half a bottle deep in whiskey right now, all these fucking emotions shut off. Sliding down against the wall onto the tiled floor my head spins from the hangover and lack of oxygen which only increases the nauseous feeling in my stomach. I try to convince myself this is just another panic attack but the feeling of death is so real. I lean over the toilet, pushing two fingers back into my throat until I feel my gag reflex kick in. I throw up the little that’s in my stomach before leaning back against the wall. 

My hands shake and I’m unsteady on my feet as I push myself off the ground. I rinse my mouth out with water and try my best to wipe away the smeared makeup before walking back out to where the rest of my band is. They’re already practicing, the sounds of drums and electric guitars drowning out the sounds of my little breakdown. I try my best to force a smile and join in, but I feel disconnected from them, from the music, from life. 

We practice for hours, and I feel every second of it. While the rest of the guys talk about ideas for the tour I slip out the back. I light up the second I step outside, the nicotine calming my nerves instantly. I’ve smoked half the pack before I even realize it, but the health of my lungs doesn’t make my list of concerns. 

I listen to the sounds of the buzzing street on the other side of the building, closing my eyes as I try to find a moment of tranquility. 

“Andy we need to talk.” his cool voice says from behind me. Ashley walks over to face me, grabbing the pack of cigarettes and lighter from me. I watch as he places one between his pale pink lips, the flame flickering in between the cracks of his cupped hand. 

A dirty little secret about Ashley, he’s known to smoke a cigarette or two whenever he’s stressed. He loves to preach about hating them, how disgusting and dirty they are but compared to the things he used to use it’s nothing. The thing about being so close to someone is you know almost all of their secrets, you’ve met all of their skeletons and Ashley has more than his fair share of them. So I let his theft slide. 

He blows the smoke out in a white cloud before sighing. “I told John that on hotel nights I’ll room with one of the other guys. I think it’s best that way.” 

I scoff, laughing at his feeble attempt to act like we’re not completely fucked. “Is it?” 

“I figured it would be easier for you.”  “Wow you’re so considerate” I reply, my voice laced with sarcasm. 

“Andy you said that we would just agree to forget about everything. Just be normal bandmates. I know you’re hurt but it’s just the way things are. Maybe it’s my fault, I let you believe there was something when there wasn’t.” 

Ashley was my lifeline when I moved here. A month of living in my car before meeting him and the others had taken its toll on me. I was on the verge of giving up and crawling back to Ohio with my tail between my legs. Then I met him and he showed me a warmth that kept me going. He was there the nights I broke down in tears, missing home and second-guessing myself. He was there when I needed advice, guidance, someone who I could trust. Even when I started drinking he was there, making sure I didn’t die of alcohol poisoning, pulling me together the next morning... and now it’s over. 

“I’m sorry for fucking things up. I just... miss what we had, friendship, whatever you want to call it. I’m drowning Ash.”  “I’m still your friend Andy. Don’t be dramatic, you’re twenty now you don’t need someone babying you.” 

My heart aches, I tried to fight it for so long. I tried to tell myself that it was hopeless to have these emotions for someone who would never want me the way I wanted him. I tried to convince myself that the truth wasn’t the truth, that I wasn’t madly in love with the man in front of me. I am in love with him though, and for a few moments on that fateful night, I thought he loved me back. 

“When I asked you to kiss me, why did you?” I ask bluntly. 

He is clearly thrown by the question, and the calm facade he is so perfect at maintaining drops for a second. Just long enough that I can see he is human, not some robot immune to emotions. “I don’t know.. maybe there was a part of me that wanted to try it, maybe it was because you asked. Maybe it was the whiskey.” 

I close the gap between the two of us, the smoke from our cigarettes mixing in the air. He doesn’t move back, just stares at me, his face once again expressionless. “And you felt nothing?” I whisper. 

“Nothing Andy.” We stand there, motionless in the cool Hollywood air. Kiss me, punch me, insult me, push me up against the brick and fuck me, do something. “Then I guess I’ll just forget about it,” I reply. 

He places the cigarettes and lighter into the pocket of my leather jacket. “Goodnight.” he simply says before walking away. 

[iv-kplpt]

any way you want me, i’m all yours

mac gargan (from the 2018 marvel’s spider-man game)/original female character frankie

this one is kind of a test run for those 2. an out of context vignette about one of their many reunions and abrupt farewells.

“why is mac so tender in this one” because he loves frankie and because of story-related reasons i’ll be sure to explore in a possible longfic exploring their relationship.

rated e.  7484 words.

It was around four in the morning on a warm, April day when Mac snuck into Frankie’s apartment. Getting inside the building was way more difficult than getting inside that particular flat - but he managed to sneak past random people on the sidewalks and in the hallways, finding his way to cozy little apartment number 812.

Frankie woke up the moment he closed the door behind him, as quietly as humanly possible; he didn’t make a single sound louder than his own, hushed breath.

“Who’s there?” he heard her voice coming from her bedroom; and his heart skipped a beat and a smile bloomed on his face. Frankie - his Frankie, his baby, his love - sounded both sleepy and agitated; an endearing combination. “I’m gonna fuck you up.”

“I sure hope so.” he replied as she shuffled out of the bedroom, wielding a baseball bat. She was wearing a black, fluffy robe and even fluffier slippers; and her hair were a tangled mess. “Fuck me up any way you want, baby. I’m all yours.”

It was around four in the morning on a warm, April day when Mac snuck into Frankie’s apartment. Getting inside the building was way more difficult than getting inside that particular flat - but he managed to sneak past random people on the sidewalks and in the hallways, finding his way to cozy little apartment number 812.

Frankie woke up the moment he closed the door behind him, as quietly as humanly possible; he didn’t make a single sound louder than his own, hushed breath.

“Who’s there?” he heard her voice coming from her bedroom; and his heart skipped a beat and a smile bloomed on his face. Frankie - his Frankie, his baby, his love - sounded both sleepy and agitated; an endearing combination. “I’m gonna fuck you up.”

“I sure hope so.” he replied as she shuffled out of the bedroom, wielding a baseball bat. She was wearing a black, fluffy robe and even fluffier slippers; and her hair were a tangled mess. “Fuck me up any way you want, baby. I’m all yours.”

Frankie scoffed, walking up to him. And just when he was about to pick her up to greet her properly - she swung the bat, hitting the wall next to his right cheek. It was a solid swing - strong enough to nearly bust a hole through the wall. Sudden enough to make him freeze in place.

“Where the fuck have you been?” she finally asked; the bat still rested next to his face, and Frankie’s voice got high-pitched and whiny and so, so vulnerable.

“In jail.” Mac replied, cautiously putting his hand on the bat and pushing it away; Frankie didn’t protest, so he took it out of her - shaking - hands and dropped it on the ground. “Fifty years. No parole.”

“You broke out a month ago.” Frankie said quietly, biting her lip nervously and not looking at him at all. “A month! And… And I was… Waiting…”

She paused; he waited.

“Why didn’t you say something?” she asked finally.

“Because I didn’t want the cops to catch the wind of us.” he replied; God, he thought. She’s gorgeous.

“But you could’ve give me a call. Or text me.” she insisted, gripping his hand instead. “I was worried!”

“You don’t need to worry about me, baby. I just… Needed some time to lead them astray. Make them think I left the city. You know. Same old smoke and mirror vanishing act. Same old me.”

In response Frankie pursed her lips tightly; she turned her head when he leaned down to finally kiss her for the first time in months, and his lips crashed against her temple as she stood there.

“Baby.” Mac said pleadingly; that was not how he imagined their reunion. “Come on, doll. Don’t be like that.”

“Am I a liability to you, Mac?” Frankie asked finally; and he raised his brows. “Because that’s how you’re treating me, tesoro. Like I can’t handle myself. Like I can’t handle you and your fucking bullshit.”

Mac sighed. He then took a step back, straightening his back; fuck, he thought. She’s so short compared to me. She’s so tiny.

(Everything and everyone seemed so fragile when he was in his suit, so easily ruined; his gloves had knife-sharp claws and the exoskeleton running through the suit made him a god.)

He looked down at her in silence, and she had to tilt her head to actually look him in the eye, and in her bright - mesmerizing, magnetic, hauntingly reminiscent of full moon -  eyes he saw something indescribable; something angry, and sad, and loving, and impatient, and disappointed, and anxious.

“You’re not a liability, Frankie.” Mac said, thinking about all those people he had left behind because they weren’t fast enough, strong enough, ruthless enough, cunning enough. “I love you. I care about you. I don’t want you to be a person of interest for the cops. To be constantly watched. Interrogated.”

“I can handle it, Mac. My father works for Hammerhead.” she reminded him. “I worked for Wilson Fisk. My brother worked with you and Rhino. Also - you’re paranoid. I’m not finished.” she added, seeing him open his mouth. “Pull this shit again and we’re done. Also, put me on your visitors list next time they put you in the Raft. Those were the longest six months of my whole fucking life.”

She clenched her fists; hard enough for her golden skin to turn white.

“Understand?” she asked him quietly; she didn’t sound hesitant. She sounded confident, and menacing, and almost impossibly calm.

“Yeah.” he breathed out, trying to force himself to focus on anything but how badly he wanted to kiss her. “I’ll… I’ll get you a new phone, one of those old brick models. No network adapter. I’ll secure it, make it undetectable. You’ll keep it off and turn it on only when I break out. Alright?”

“Alright.” she said gently. “Now… Catch.”

She jumped, wrapping her arms around his neck; he grabbed her and picked her up and she wrapped her legs around him.

He kissed her, and she bit his lip; he could taste her lemongrass-scented toothpaste in her breath - and after months of isolation that small thing he’d normally ignore had an almost embarrassing effect on him. The shiver that ran down his spine, the sudden tightness of his pants, the sound that escaped his lips - that shouldn’t happen after a kiss.

Frankie noticed - of course she did, she was an attentive little mouse - and laughed in his face, even though she wasn’t much better, with her flushed cheeks and shaky breath.

She was still laughing when he threw her onto the nearest chair, and when he kissed her again, bent down, frantically trying to to untie her robe’s belt; she playfully kept pushing his hands away, or catching and holding them, or covering the knot with her hands. Eventually he lost his patience, and grabbed her wrists with his hand; and she grinned with satisfaction, already spreading her legs as he untangled the knot with his other hand.

“Hold still.” he said, taking a step back. “It’s been six months. I want to look at you.”

“Alright.” she replied, rolling her eyes. “But be quick. I’m horny as fuck.”

He didn’t respond, too busy staring at her.

She had visited him in his dreams quite often; nights at the Raft were lonely and long and Mac welcomed her imaginary company, the nonexistent presence of her warm, gold-colored body, her petite hands, her jet black hair. And days at the Raft were not very stimulating; they were harsh and monotonous and repetitive; so he appreciated the invigorating images of her perfectly hand-sized breasts, and raspberry-colored nipples, and full, soft lips, and the pink and warm crevice between her legs.

(Or maybe it was the other way round?)

“You’re killing the mood, Mac.” Frankie said, bringing him back to Earth. “You know what I look like. I hadn’t had a breast job, so quit starin’ and get to fuckin’.”

“Ah, but baby, I hadn’t seen you in half a year. I think I deserve some eyecandy time.” he said, trying to not sound defensive. It’s not like he didn’t want to fuck her - he simply wanted to let his eyes enjoy a little something as well.

Frankie scoffed.

“You’re a sap.” she said mockingly. “A gentle giant. A big softie.”

“I’m not a sap.” he protested, even though there he was - staring lovingly at his girlfriend instead of fucking her brains out after half a year of separation. “And you, baby, are in for it.”

He took a step towards her, and she grinned; he grabbed her and picked her up and threw her onto the couch; and soon he was kissing her neck and his hands began a hasteful journey across her body; his fingers and his mouth were so hungry and impatient and he felt like he might eat her alive just to satisfy that burning, gnawing, six months old hunger.

(She seemed to also be quite ravenous; she clawed at his back and thrusted her hips and kept pulling him closer, closer, closer.)

“Baby.” he whispered, taking his lips off her neck for a moment; he pushed her legs apart and started to slowly rub her clit with his thumb. “Sing for me.”

Frankie opened her mouth - and let out a long, howling yawn.

“Oh, come on.” Mac said, taking his hand away and sitting up on the couch. “Really, Frankie?”

“It’s five in the morning!” she said defensively, muffling another yawn. “And I went to bed around two a.m. It’s not my fault you decided to show up at four in the morning.”

She got up and shuffled towards her bedroom, leaving Mac behind.

“You can sleep on the couch.” she said, standing with her (beautiful, smooth, golden) back to him; and his eyes fixated on her round, firm ass.

“I was hoping you’d let me sleep with you.” he said; and she looked at him over her shoulder and her expression made his heart drop. She looked at him like he just suggested a week long hard BDSM play session on the first date; had the abrupt separation turned them into strangers?

Suddenly - she laughed.

“I was just joking.” she said, turning around and walking up to him. “Take me to bed, big boy. I missed you.”

In bed she asked him to hold her.

“Hold me.” she said, pushing her back against his chest. “I missed you, Mac. I forgot what it’s like to be in your arms.”

“And I never forgot what it’s like to hold you, baby.” he replied, pulling her even closer; he meant it. He never forgot, and he wasn’t happy about it; it made the lonely nights unbearable. His body remembered what it’s like to hold hers, what it’s like to feel her heartbeat under his fingertips; and her absence was a torture. “Hm. Did you lose weight?”

“Maybe.” she muttered; and he sighed. “Goodnight, tesoro.”

At first he was sure he’s going to simply lay there, and hold her; he wasn’t sleepy, or tired. But the bed was soft, and smelled of her; and it’s been a long while since he had last rested in a comfortable bed. His bed at the Raft was hard; and for the past month he had been hiding in an abandoned warehouse, and could only choose between a cold stone floor, or a very old mattress.

“Just five minutes.” he muttered, closing his eyes. “Just a quick nap.”

***

Frankie woke him up ten hours later.

“Rise and shine, big boy.” she said, straddling his hips. “You hungry?”

His empty stomach gurgled in response.

“Yep.” he said, lifting himself up slightly and leaning on his elbows. “Mmm. You look nice.”

She was wearing a plain, vastly oversized black tshirt that exposed her right shoulder, a pair of jean shorts that accentuated and exposed her beautiful, long legs and a simple, black choker that made him want to tug at it and pull her closer.

“Hell yeah I look nice.” Frankie replied, sounding very pleased with herself. “I look nice in just about everything.”

“That’s true.” he agreed. “I really missed you, Fran.”

“I know.” she said, setting a paper bag down on his stomach. “I got you breakfast. Cheddar and chicken salad sesame bagel from that place down the street. I went shopping.” she added as he bit half the bagel off in a single bite. The bagel was perfectly soft, the sharp cheddar was perfectly salty and the chicken salad was perfectly creamy. It felt like it’s been ages since he last had some decent food; he devoured the bagel in three bites.

“I love you.” he said, wiping his mouth with a paper napkin; she grinned with satisfaction and shuffled slightly, rubbing her bottom against his crotch.

“I sure hope you do.” she said, putting her hand on his belt buckle; his breath quickened and she began toying with it, not taking her eyes off him. “Because if you didn’t… The fact you got hard just from he sitting on you would be pathetic. But, since you love me… It’s actually cute. And kind of hot.”

Mac laughed, desperately trying to not grind against her; he wanted her. He wanted her bad.

“You’re so cute when you’re pretending you’re not horny.” she teased with a cocky grin that made him want to grab her, throw her onto the bed, shove a hand down her shorts, just to make her writhe and squirm, to make her his.

He grabbed her by her shirt and pulled her towards him; and just as he was about to kiss her - she put her index finger on his lips.

“A-a-a.” she said mockingly. “Not yet.”

“But why?” he asked mournfully as she got off him. “We hadn’t seen each other in half a year. We hadn’t fucked in half a year.”

“You look like a hobo, Mac. And kind of smell like one too.” she said, rolling her eyes; and Mac scoffed, knowing she’s right. “Where have you been hiding, in a dumpster?”

“An abandoned waterside warehouse. Years ago I turned a basement there into an emergency shelter. It’s… Habitable.”

(It had running water that was an icy cold slow dribble; a place to sleep, which was just a mattress held together with tape; a tiny pantry filled with freeze-dried and canned food; and that was it. No electricity, absolutely no luxuries, cold and kind of damp and very very dark; the room looked like a shithole, hundred times worse than Mac’s cell at the Raft - but in that basement he was free.)

“Take a shower, Mac. I’ll order us some Chinese.” she said, walking out of the room. “And… Check the bathroom closet. I keep some clothes and other stuff for you there.”

This was, quite possibly, the longest shower he ever took. He missed warm water, and shower gels that smell nice, and blissful solitude; the water at the Raft was lukewarm at best, and the shower gels had no smell, and every shower meant being accompanied by nine other men.

After showering he felt like a new man; he left the bathroom wearing only a pair of sweatpants, completely ignoring each and every shirt in the closet - Frankie always appreciated the view, claiming he looks “like a sexy brickhouse”.

(He was muscular, in a slightly bulky way; he also had a lot of scars on his back and his shoulders.)

She didn’t say anything seeing him enter her living room; but her cheeks turned dark and she bit her lip, and he remembered the first time she saw him like this.

(Spider-Man nearly got him, and Mac was bleeding and hurt; and Frankie saved him. She took him home, and got some Maggia doc to patch him up; and he was bloodied, battered and shirtless and she didn’t even try to pretend she’s not into him.)

“I’m seeing some new scars.” she said, seeing him. “Prison fights?”

“Prison fights, not cooperating with the cops, and so on.” he said with a shrug. “Raft is not at all what S.H.I.E.L.D says it is. It’s brutal.”

“I see.” she said softly. “Then I guess it’s good you broke out.”

They watched a movie; Mac didn’t register the title, or the plot. He was too busy focusing on Frankie, who sat next to him and loudly commented on the movie between bites of her rice noodles and beef stir-fry; he watched her and listened to her - and wanted to pull her closer, get rid of her clothes and burrow his face between her legs.

The mere thought of her naked body - her perfect breasts, and sensitive nipples, her long legs, her wet flower - got him painfully hard again.

Frankie, naturally, noticed.

“Oh my god.” she said, sounding very amused. “Did you just get a boner when watching The Dark Knight?”

“No, I got a boner from thinking about you.” Mac replied, trying to save the last shreds of his dignity. “You look… Nice.”

“So do you, baby.” she replied; and his heart - his hardened, cold, dead heart of a criminal, a sadist, a monster - fluttered hearing that. “So… What’s the plan?”

“I’ll reach out to my contacts, see if someone has a job for me.” he said with a sigh. “They confiscated my suit and I can’t afford to pay Black Cat to steal it. And I need a lab. And some supplies.”

“That’s nice and all, but I meant the plan for tonight.” Frankie said, rolling her eyes. “You know. It’s been six months. I say… Let’s make tonight special.”

She turned around to face him and put her hand on his chest and began to absentmindedly tap at his skin with her fingertips.

“Mmm. Special… How, exactly?” he asked, trying to focus. “Every moment spent with you is special, baby.”

“Cheesy.” she said, rolling her eyes. “I was thinking… A candle-lit dinner, some wine… You know. Like normal people do.”

“Only if we do this here.” he said. “I’d rather… Not show my mug at a fancy restaurant. People might scream. Spider-Man might show up.”

“You worry too much, big guy.” she said, taking his face into her - tiny tiny tiny - hands. “We’re not going out. We’re staying in.” she added, placing a kiss on his forehead. “I’ll cook dinner, and you… You just relax. You deserve it.”

“Mmm. Yeah. After all, I’m a hard-working, honest man who would never hurt a fly.” he said jokingly; Frankie rolled her eyes, but smiled afterwards, and that sight made him smile sheepishly as well.

***

He wanted to help Frankie in the kitchen, he really did.

“Hey.” he said, walking up to her and putting his hands on her waist. “Need a hand?”

“I’m good.” she replied, peeling a carrot. “Get out.”

“You sure?” he asked, not budging. “I have two hands and nothing to do… And you smell really nice.”

In response she swatted his hands away and waved her knife at him; so he backed out of the kitchen and back into the living room.

On his way out he tripped over the bag he had brought with him; it made a loud, metallic clank which reminded him of an idea he had earlier.

“Do you have a drill?” he asked, walking back into the kitchen.

“Why do you need a drill?” Frankie asked, furrowing her brows. “Did you break something?”

“It’s a surprise.” he said. “Do you have one or not?”

“It should be in the hallway cabinet.” she said, resuming doing whatever she was doing. “Have… Fun drilling holes, I guess.”

About one hour later his magnum opus was finished and two pulleys had been securely mounted to the ceiling of Frankie’s bedroom.

“Cool.” Frankie said, entering the bedroom. “So… Why did you do that?”

“It’s a surprise.” he said evasively, checking the hooks one last time. “Alright, those shouldn’t fall off.”

“I’m going to take a shower.” Frankie announced; her voice suddenly got just a bit shaky and Mac looked over his shoulder in surprise. “Care to join me?”

“Sure.” he replied, following her. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, why do you ask?” she responded quickly; too quickly.

“Frankie…”

“Let’s just say I’m also preparing a surprise for you.” she replied with a sigh, entering the bathroom; he tried to follow - but she stopped him. “A-a-a! You can come in once you hear the water’s running.”

“But I like watching you undress.” he said as she closed the door. Naturally he meant it; but to be fair - he liked watching Frankie do absolutely anything. She was beautiful, and her body was absolutely gorgeous, and there was particular, almost boyish charm to the way she moved and talked and smiled; accompanied by the fact she seemed to thoroughly enjoy having his full, undivided attention - it turned her every action into a one of a kind private show.

“I know.” she said; he could hear her opening and closing the closet where she stored his clothes. A few moments later he heard her open and close the cabin; and finally - he heard the water running.

“You can come in.” she said as he opened the door. “Mmm. You seem… Impatient.”

“No, really?” he asked; he was already naked, having undressed in the hallway, waiting for her sign. “What gave it away?”

“It was just a wild guess.” she said as he squeezed into the cabin. “God, Mac. You’re hard.”

“Yeah.” he agreed breathlessly as she brushed his length with her fingertips. “What, are you going to… Help me out?”

“Nah.” she replied, taking her hand away; he groaned, resting his forehead against the slippery wall above her left shoulder. “Not yet, anyway. But… Maybe I’ll blow you after dinner.”

The fact she said it, and the way she said it - lightly, playfully, quietly - almost sent him over the edge.

She noticed, of course she did - and she laughed as he kissed her neck desperately, his hands shaking from this burning hunger. This hunger had been with him for months; at the Raft there was absolutely no privacy - and while masturbation wasn’t forbidden, someone was always watching; and Mac found that thought repulsive. It didn’t make the hunger go away - but it made him keep his hands away from its core.

Even after escaping he didn’t do anything about it - and suddenly he was right next to the only cure for his condition, their bodies pressed together, rubbing against each other, her voice promising him the sweetest of releases in that bright, cocky tone of hers. It was unbearable - and he savored every second.

“Say it again.” he pleaded; and Frankie smiled with satisfaction, putting her soapy hands on his ribs.

“Maybe I’ll blow you after dinner.” she hummed, slowly sliding her hands across and down his stomach. “Maybe I’ll make you sit down, and maybe I’ll kneel before you… And maybe, just maybe, I’ll suck you. Maybe I’ll do it so slowly it’ll drive you mad. But hey - maybe.”

“You’re unbearable, Frankie.”

“I know. And that, big boy, is why you love me.”

“True.” he agreed breathlessly. “I love you, Frankie. You’re what kept me from going insane at the Raft.”

“You’re not the only one who was lonely, Mac.” she responded quietly; so quietly it was barely audible over the sound of running water. “I waited for you, and I’ll wait for you again… But I don’t want to wait. But I will. I know I will. I’ll always wait for you, baby.”

“And I will always come back to you, Frankie.” he assured her; in response she burrowed her face in his skin and cried and sobs shook her body as she gripped his shoulders tightly with her hands.

“How could you?!” she wailed desperately. “I was so worried, Mac, it’s been a month! I thought you died, o-or got bored of me and found yourself another idiot willing to deal with your f-fucking bullshit!”

She punched him in the chest; he only felt it a little bit. He didn’t say anything, and she didn’t land another punch on him; he kissed her the moment she turned the water off.

“I love you.” she whispered. “I love you so much it hurts. You should get dressed.” she added in a normal tone. “And so should I, actually.”

It took Mac about ten minutes to get dressed - and it took Frankie about thirty. For some reason, she kept one of his old suits in her closet; Hammerhead made all his men follow a strict dress code. Wearing a suit again, after months of pretending he had never worked with Hammerhead felt weird - but also good.

He ditched the jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt; he kept the tie though.

Finally she left the bathroom - and she looked absolutely gorgeous.

Her simple, black dress exposed her shoulders and back, while hiding everything else from his prying eyes; her high heels made her legs look almost impossibly long; and her makeup drew attention to her beautiful, moonlight-colored eyes and heart-shaped lips.

“New perfume?” he asked, sniffing the air next to her neck quietly. “Hmm. Is that… Cinnamon?”

“And some other things. But mostly cinnamon.” she said as he took her hand. “Oh, you look good.”

He kissed her hand, looking her in the eye; she laughed and took her hand away, not letting him pull the old trail of kisses trick.

After five months of practically tasteless, unseasoned, perfectly bland prison meals and a month of canned mush - dinner made by Frankie smelled and looked and tasted like a Michelin Star-grade delicacies.

It was not, by any means, bad by itself - everything was perfectly fine. After all, everyone sometimes puts too much parmesan shavings in a salad, glazes carrots with way too much honey, overcooks their steaks or forgets to add salt and pepper to mashed potatoes; cooking mistakes happen to everyone. Sometimes they all happen at once, to a single person.

None of the dishes was perfect - but they all tasted delicious. And, most importantly - every single dish was made with love.

“Dessert?” Frankie asked, seeing him put down his fork. “I… Didn’t mess dessert up. Mostly because I didn’t make it.”

“You didn’t mess anything up, baby.” he said, watching her. “Also… Nope. Not yet.”

“Alright.” she said, picking his empty plate up. “In that case… I’m gonna take those to the kitchen. Where I’m going to stand, all alone and helpless. It would be a shame if someone were to sneak into the kitchen and take me to bedroom.”

“That would be awful.” he agreed, already getting up from his chair.

He sneaked up to her, stood behind her for a moment, listening to her breath - and picked her up and carried her to bedroom. She didn’t struggle; but she did squirm an awful lot.

“What’s under the dress, Frankie?” he asked, trying to lift up her skirt and take a peek; but Frankie kept pushing the fabric down, so Mac turned her around and held her wrists behind her head as he unzipped her dress with his other hand.

“Do you like it?” she asked the moment her dress slipped off her and formed a small, black puddle around her feet.

“Yes, yes, yes and yes.” he replied, looking at her lack of bra, simple, white, lace panties, a matching garter belt with stockings and a - admittedly a bit sloppy - knotted web of rope decorating her stomach and chest and forming a tight crotch rope with a knot at the critical spot. “Mmm. When did you pick up kinbaku?”

“About a month after they caught you. I was feeling miserable and lonely, and I had this piece of rope in my closet and… Well. This happened.” she said, turning around in place. “I needed something to do. Something to keep me busy. Something to… Make me feel a bit less lonely. Do you like it?”

“I love it.” he said, even though his heart was heavy, burdened by her loneliness. “Wait. When did you put it on?”

“A few hours ago.” she said, folding her hands behind her back. “I’m a present wrapped in rope… A present that’s dying to be unpacked.”

She winked at him; he squinted, pretending to be thinking.

Frankie seemed to be very eager; and so was him, naturally. Just as he was opening his mouth to tell her to turn around so he can untie the knot holding everything in place - he remembered her teasing.

“I shall unpack my present now.” he announced. “And then I’m going to have a lot of fun with it.”

“Great!” she said, jumping in place impatiently. “Wait. You’re going to have fun? What about me?”

“You, my baby, will also have fun.” he said, taking an additional piece of rope from his bag. “And if not… Sucks to be you, I guess.”

He tied her hands behind her back using the same piece of rope she used; he made sure to bend her elbows first, to make it impossible for her to get her hands in front of her, like she did a few times before. Afterwards he covered her eyes with a blindfold - and took a moment to appreciate the view.

(She looked gorgeous; and he could tell she’s trying to wiggle out of her bondage.)

“Get down on your knees, baby.” he said, pulling some more rope out of his bag. “And give me five minutes.”

He quickly set up the main attraction of the night - all while Frankie kept complaining about not wanting to wait any longer.

“Alright.” he said, crouching in front of her and taking her blindfold off. “Time to shut you up for a bit.”

“It’d take Spider-Man to make me shut up, big boy.” she replied, looking around. “So… What’s all that?”

“A torture device.” he replied; Frankie raised her eyebrows skeptically and rolled her eyes. “What?”

“This doesn’t sound convincing.” she said with a - somewhat restrained - shrug. “Is that how you tortured people for Hammerhead? With some rope and a magic wand?”

“Can we not talk about this right now?” he asked, rubbing his temples with his fingertips. “It’s… We’re… We’re on a date right now. Maybe let’s not talk about my old gig as a torturer.” he said pleadingly. “Tomorrow morning - sure. I’ll gladly tell you my secrets. Tonight though… I’d rather talk about literally anything else.”

“Anything? Alright.” Frankie said with a wicked spark in her eye. “Let’s talk politics. Who has your vote? Personally I’m torn-”

He covered her mouth with his hand.

“You’re insufferable.” he informed her. “Don’t get me wrong, baby, I love you. But you’re insufferable. And I think it’s high time someone taught you a lesson in silence… And humility.”

Frankie cocked her head; his hand followed, keeping her silent.

“See this?” he asked, picking her beloved Hitachi off the floor; Frankie nodded vigorously.

Attached to the vibrator was a long piece of rope; it went up - towards the ceiling - where it had been led through the pulleys he had mounted earlier and back down, where its end dangled just a bit in front of and above kneeling Frankie. If his calculations were correct - and he knew they were - his invention should work perfectly under one, simple condition.

“Spread your legs, baby. No, no, no questions yet. Just spread them.”

Clumsily Frankie spread her legs; and Mac grinned with satisfaction.

“Good girl.” he said, placing a kiss on her forehead. “See this rope?”

Frankie nodded.

“Long story short… It’s a simple mechanism.” he said, pulling the rope. “If the rope is held like this… The wand will be pressed to you. If the rope is let loose…”

He let go of the rope, letting the vibrator fall onto the floor.

“Open your mouth.” he said, taking his hand away; Frankie opened her mouth, staring at him. “Good. Now, bite the rope… And don’t let go of it.”

“I won’t.” she mumbled without letting go of the rope. “It’s not on.”

“I know.” he said, getting up from the floor. “Patience.”

She kept mumbling as he walked up to his bag and fished out the last part of the attraction - a simple-looking black box made out of metal, with a black knob at the top, a long cable ending with a standard American electric plug coming out of one side and a standard outlet mounted on the other side.

“What’s that?” Frankie mumbled as he plugged the box into the nearest power outlet; the small diode next to the knob lit up in green.

Mac sat down in a chair right in front of Frankie, still holding the mystery box. Without a word he picked up the cable of her Hitachi - and plugged it into the box. He then turned the knob; the vibrator sprung to life and began to buzz against Frankie’s clit.

“W-why not just plug it directly?” she muttered; her cheeks were quickly turning darker and her breath got shaky and he could see her nipples are getting hard as she squirmed in her bonds, getting closer to the edge.

“Because it wouldn’t be half as much fun.” he said, turning the knob again; the vibrator turned off and Frankie let out a long, low growl. “Frustrated already? Baby, baby, this is only a beginning.”

He always liked being in control; and he always liked making people miserable. Usually he accomplished it through less-than-pleasant means; but Frankie was different. Whenever he was with her, his usual, harmful, pain-inducing habits and methods went away; he loved her. Harming her - causing her pain, or even making her sad - was out of the question; but he liked taking control. He liked teasing her, making her desperate, making her beg - and she seemed to enjoy it as well.

“You dick.” she muttered as he grinned at her. “You piece of shit. Turn it on!” she demanded. “Turn it on!”

“Alright.” he said, turning the vibrator back on. “You really look gorgeous tonight, baby.” he added, watching her. “Especially… Now.”

He tormented her for a long while, turning the vibrator on and off, never leaving it on for long enough for her to come. He knew what it looks and sounds like when she’s about to come, he knew it well - and the six months of separation didn’t make him forget it. He knew her sighs, and trembling legs, and sudden twitching - and he used it all to keep her on the edge.

“Do you like it, baby?” he asked; Frankie muttered something in response. For the past thirty minutes she had been kneeling with her neck bent; the lower her head was, the firmer the wand was pressing against her.

“Fuck you, Mac.” she muttered in response; but she didn’t let go of the rope. “Hhhh… FUCK!” she groaned as he turned the wand off again. “FUCK!”

“Don’t yell, baby. Your neighbors might not like it.” he said, turning the wand on. “And they might call the cops. And the cops might come here… And see you tied up and accompanied by a wanted criminal. Do you want me to get arrested, baby?”

“No!” she exclaimed loud and clear; she let go of the rope and the wand fell onto the floor, letting out a loud buzz that was both piercing and dull.

Mac laughed, turning the wand off.

“FUCK!” Frankie screamed. “GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!”

“Language, baby.” he said, getting up from the chair; Frankie kept trying to catch the rope with her teeth again - but she didn’t get up from the floor. “Aww, just look at you. So frustrated.”

“Don’t be a dick.” she pleaded as he walked up to her and crouched down in front of her, setting the box on the floor. “Come on, Mac. Please?”

“Please what, baby?” he asked, brushing her chin with his thumb. “You know I can’t read minds.”

Frankie pursed her lips and looked away; Mac chuckled and leaned in and kissed her deeply, turning the vibrator back on with his other hand.

“Just a bit more.” he whispered into her lips, pressing the wand against her. “Be a good girl and don’t scream.”

He reached down between her legs and pulled her - soaked, now that’s flattering - panties to the side before pressing the wand firmly against her wet, pulsing center.

He kissed her again; she groaned and moaned and whined into his lips and almost screamed when he turned the wand off for the last time.

“Mac.” she pleaded desperately. “Come on. Please? Please?”

She gave him her best kicked puppy impression, batting her lashes at him and pouting; he pinched her left nipple lightly, deciding he’s definitely going to keep her in this state just a bit longer.

“No.” he replied, getting up from the floor.

“I’m flipping you off right now.” she informed him. “And I know you can’t see it, because my hands are tied, but I’m flipping you off.”

“Uh-uh.” he replied, unzipping his pants. “Say aaaaa.”

Admittedly - getting one’s dick out of one’s pants is kind of difficult, when said person already has a boner. Usually it didn’t take Mac half as much time to accomplish that feat - that night, however, he found himself struggling.

His hands were practically shaking - and Frankie noticed. Of course she did.

“Ha!” she said, sounding more than mildly amused. “Holy fuck. What’s the problem, Mac? Did you forget how to do it?”

“Quiet.” he replied, trying to sound commanding, rather than pathetic and whiny; and Frankie laughed.

“What’s the problem, Mac?” she asked mockingly; and he gulped quietly, trying to hide the fact her tone is turning him on even more. “Need a hand?”

“I’m not untying you.” he replied, finally winning the battle with his pants and underwear. “Open your mouth, baby.”

She tried to suck him off slowly; she tried to tease him and to hold him on edge. She did her best to torment him, just a bit; it wasn’t her fault he didn’t last.

He tried to hold it - but to no avail. Her soft lips, her teasing tongue - it was too much.

He came in her mouth after few moments; with a loud, desperate, ashamed groan.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Mac.” Frankie said after unceremoniously spitting everything out. “What was that?”

“Five months of celibate.” he said defensively. “Plus a month of living in a dumpster.”

“Holy shit.” she said, cocking her head slightly. “So you hadn’t… You hadn’t came in half a year?”

“Well, yeah.” he said with a sigh. “There’s no privacy at the Raft. We’re being watched at all times. Kinda kills the mood for me.”

“And wasn’t there anyone willing to… Help you out?” she asked hesitantly; Mac furrowed his brows.

“Women are in a separate block.” he said finally. “And I’m not… I’m not into men, Frankie. What about you, baby?” he asked, desperate for a change of topic. “Did you wait?”

(Were you faithful?)

“No.” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Don’t worry though. I hadn’t cheated on you, I only… Masturbated. A lot. But I stopped when I heard you broke out.” she added. “And so I waited. For a month.”

“A month.” he repeated mockingly. “A whole month! What a colossal sacrifice. How noble of you.”

(she waited she waited she waited she waited)

“Just admit you’re jealous.” she shot back, rolling her eyes. “Because you are jealous. Right, big boy?”

“Maybe a little bit.” he admitted, helping her stand up. “And you’re being obnoxious. I think you should suffer just a bit more.”

“You’re lucky I’m tied up.” she said as he sat her down at the edge of the bed. “You wouldn’t be so cocky if my hands were free.”

“Look at yourself, trying to be menacing.” he said mockingly, looking down at her petite body, her soft skin, her huge eyes. “Alright though, I’ll bite. What would happen if your hands were free?”

He unhooked her left stocking and pulled her panties off her leg.

“You’d be the one begging.” she shot back as he pushed her legs apart. “And I wouldn’t even have to tie you up. I know you wouldn’t dare to force me to do anything.” she finished with a smug smile.

“That’s true.” he admitted. “So I guess it’s good you’re still tied up.”

He kissed the inside of her right thigh, not breaking the eye contact; she bit her lip in excited anticipation.

From his sitting position he could very clearly see and smell her arousal; it was a one of a kind scent, deep and impossible to describe and almost intoxicating.

“Enjoying the view?” she asked, squirming slightly; Mac grinned.

“Yeah.” he said; and he truly, deeply meant it. Everything about Frankie was beautiful and soft; but her soft, smooth flower always left him mesmerized. And how sensitive it was! A simple stroke of his fingertip was enough to make her gasp quietly. He had always marveled at her sensitivity - it made turning her into a quivering, gasping mess so, so easy.

All it took was a few minutes of slow, meticulous teasing to make her stomp against the ground in frustration.

His tongue and lips danced all across her center, and his fingers slowly moved in and out of her; she was soft and sweet under his touch, even if she kept calling him names in that trembling, high-pitched voice he loved so dearly.

“You dick!” she exclaimed as he dragged his tongue across her clit slowly, too slowly. “You absolute, complete-”

She let out a whiny moan as he reached up with both his hands and pinched and twisted her nipples lightly.

“M-Mac.” she said pleadingly. “Come on. Don’t be a dick. Don’t leave a girl hangin’.”

“But I’m not leaving you hangin’, baby.” he said, switching his tongue for his thumb and massaging her clit lightly. “I’m keeping you this way.”

“Yeah, well, you can’t keep me like this forever.” she said; her breathy voice was breaking and she kept making short pauses. “Also I think my hands are asleep.”

“Sucks to be you.” he said with a shrug. “You know, I consider myself bit of an artist. Do you know what’s every artist’s motto?”

“What’s every artist’s motto?” she asked, sounding resigned.

“Can’t rush art.” Mac replied, burrowing his face between her legs again.

This time - he let her come.

It was a long one; long and loud and ecstatic. She arched her back, and practically screamed out in pleasure; and Mac laughed, not even trying to keep her quiet.

“Is that what you wanted, baby?” he asked, sitting next to her; Frankie nodded, visibly out of breath.

“Yeah.” she said finally. “Mac…”

“Yeah?”

“Untie me. And bring me some Red Bull from the fridge. I’m far from done.”

“So am I, baby.” he said, untying the knots; Frankie stretched immediately and plopped down onto her back. “I’ve missed you for six months. Tonight’s gonna be very long.”

“Just the way I like it.” she replied as he got up. “A long, sleepless night… And just the two of us.”

“With luck this won’t be our last night like this.” he said, handing her the ice-cold can; she pressed it to her forehead, between her breasts and to the back of her neck before finally cracking it open and immediately spilling some of the drink all over herself. “Mmm. Need a hand?”

“Yeah.” Frankie breathed out after chugging rest of her drink out of the can and throwing said can away. “Get it off me, big guy.”

He kissed the overly sweet drink off her that night; and he kept kissing her even once her skin was clean. He pulled her into his lap, and she practically ripped his shirt off him; and her hands wandering across his skin and his scars felt infinitely soft and gentle, and so did her nails piercing his skin. It felt like the gentlest, most heart-wrenching, bone-rotting poison; and by gods - he craved that poison, that tenderness that came with it, that peace of mind as their bodies crashed against each other and his teeth found her neck and her nails found his back and she tilted her head back and cried his name out.

“Shhhh.” he muttered, still thrusting his hips. “Shhhhh.”

“Make me shut up.” she responded, wrapping her legs around him.

He didn’t make her shut up; why would he? He loved her voice. The mere memory of it kept him sane at the Raft.

They were both covered in sweat and bitemarks and scratchmarks when they were done; Mac’s back looked worse than it looked after his last fight with Spider-Man, and Frankie’s neck looked like she had annoyed Rhino one too many times - but none of it mattered.

“Baby, baby.” Mac breathed out, pulling her closer. “Aren’t you tired of living like this, baby?”

“Let’s run away together.” she replied, resting her cheek on his shoulder and closing her eyes.

“But what if they find us?”

“We’ll just keep running.”

Absentmindedly Mac brushed her bangs off her face.

“Goodnight, baby.” he said; the sun was high up in the sky. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

They captured him one month later; his first night back at the Raft was sleepless.

“We’ll just keep running.” he muttered to himself, closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall, remembering Frankie’s soft body next to his. “And we’ll never stop.”

In another part of Manhattan Frankie sat in her bed, her legs crossed, her head resting against the wall, her eyes closed.

“We’ll just keep running.” she whispered to herself. “And we’ll never stop.”

Mac’s scorpion armor gathered dust in the secluded warehouse; and his pillow in her bed gathered her tears as she pretended she’s not crying herself to sleep.

“Until next time.” they both whispered under their breaths.

Fin.

[ryouverua]

Trial 6 - Flashfiction (4)

FLIP THAT CHESSBOARD, SWEETCHEEKS!

Trial: 1 / 2 / 3

it’s what kokichi would have wanted

DRV3 HOW DARE YOU HOLD OUT ON THE CUTEST DAMN TSUMUGI SPRITE OF THE ENTIRE GAME

how can mirrors be real if our eyes aren’t real

And we found it in Kokichi’s lab of all places. Why? Had he been able to get access to it ater all? Why was it just lying there so awkwardly - not hidden or neatly put away at all, but just tossed on the floor like an afterthought?

...... thinks about the state of Kokichi’s dorm room

yeah the chance that he left it on the floor like a bored 12 year old or me is not 0%

Wait.... is there??? The only one that stands out to me is the method of applying vs being scouted...

So we go over the events again, or as the game would probably put it, comb over The Longest, Most Ridiculous, Most Despairing Backstory to look for discrepancies.

Don’t look so pleased with yourself!

YES THANK YOU SHUICHI THANK YOU FOR STOPPING HER BEFORE SHE GOT STARTED AGAIN

It.... it doesn’t???

as;dflksdjf

U-Uuuuh Monokuma??? Are you just allowed to namedrop the title like that???

A-Anyway, this one was sort of vague - not sure if the game did too good a job of hiding it or not, but I certainly didn’t clue into this immediately because, well, I’d argue that Junko was ultimately the cause of this? And she was the original Ultimate Despair, even if Mukuro got roped into it with her? This felt a bit like being at a multiple choice exam where there are a few answers that are sort of right but not exactly right and then I cry

AND MUKURO!!! I WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS MUKURO ERASURE, DAMN IT!!! can you tell she was one of my favourites in the first game if not my favourite

“And that’s why, even though you are technically right, you are also wrong, and therefore will not get any points for your answer to this question.” sweetcheeks you sonuvab -

despite the mukuro erasure, consider me team maki

“Can it, nerd.”

It would have been really nice to have Maki in the first game.

We really are going over this piece by piece.

Okay, so now we’re reviewing the first game. They were forced to kill each other, then Junko was found out and killed herself in the end, which led to the eventual end of the Despair side....

Shuichi is clearly onto something that I haven’t quite latched onto yet. 8′D

This makes me think of how cool it would have been to have this text style in the previous games. Have I mentioned enough about how much I like the typography in drv3? Because I don’t know if that’s possible.

OOOH that’s right - I forgot! Or, well, I didn’t forget, but it didn’t really occur to me that we were remembering that they were literally trapped in the school by Ultimate Despair, I guess.

I guess the gist of it is that they’re remembering - well, not witnessing the events, but being told things were one way vs another. They would have been too young to have been alive at the time though, right? It seems to me that, though the game clearly wants us to take it a different way, we can also interpret this as them just being told the wrong thing within the memories themselves as opposed to the actual memories being entirely falsified. What if the reports at the time or the commonly-known story was that they had been locked in by Ultimate Despair, and it’s only the properly researched books like this that have the correct accounts? It’s not exactly an uncommon phenomenon for there to be widely-held mistaken knowledge/generalizations of famous events, unfortunately... 8′D

Anyway, I’m getting distracted because like I said, this is really not the angle the game is going with at all.

BULLSHIT

AND ALSO

WHY WOULD A BOOK EXIST THAT DIRECTLY CONTRADICTS THE MEMORIES YOU GAVE THEM

LIKE

WHY DOES IT EVEN EXIST IN THIS PLACE AT ALL

I’m seriously fixated on this book!

also

I love Shuichi just casually ignoring Junko!Tsumugi lmao

I’m calling her Junko!Tsumugi I refuse to call her Tsumugi!Junko I REFUSE TO GIVE UP ON TSUMUGI’S AUTONOMY

This.... this one has to be it, right? This was the one thing I remember getting really confused by when they talked about applying! In fact, I had thought the whole reason Shuichi was considered the Ultimate Detective was because of the homicide case and if that resulted in him being at Hope’s Peak, it was because word of that had traveled - but then if it was an application, that means either his parents or his uncle would have applied on his behalf, right?

this was a detail I remember remarking on and loving btw I got really sad when in Chapter 5 it started looking like they were all in the same class

I think more than the others, this is the big one. All that other stuff can be attributed to mistaken hearsay - but this? This is something they would have ‘directly experienced’.

Oh apparently he chose to come... despite feeling awkward about his title.

I wonder if he was pressured into it by his family....?

Or, uh. Let me correct myself. I wonder if, in this mistaken memory, he remembers being pressured into it by his family?

I-I feel like I would trust the book over you guys especially considering the whole ‘we remembered Kokichi Ouma as a Remnant of Despair and got him killed as the fake mastermind’ situation tbh.

well technically ultra despair girls is

That is a good point. I mean, it could quite possibly happen underground, but I suppose the same could be said of the Jabberwock Island one - there’s no reason that should be public knowledge.

“I mean, I know it’s nothing new, but bear with me here.”

H A L L E L U J A H

REALLY

REALLY

MAKI, REALLY

YOU OF ALL PEOPLE SHOULD KNOW BETTER

FUFCKFUCKING HELL GUYS YOU’RE KILLING ME HERE

sdfkdslfj fukging

noOOONONO

aND YOU! YOU SHUT UP TOO!!!!

“Also have you seen their outfits? Do you realize how terribly they would clash? ‘Oh Saihara, why would that matter what do uniforms have to do with anything surely Kokichi and his uniformed clown posse could just be a branch under the Remnants’ NO THAT WILL NOT FLY WHEN THE HEAD OF THE ENTIRE ORGANIZATION LITERALLY DOUBLES AS THE ULTIMATE FASHIONISTA!!!”

this level of reasoning is possible for saihara shuichi

.... what do you think, everyone?

And he still has the Supreme Leader title, even if these aren’t really their talents... there has to be something to that, right?

Shu -

Shuichi

The words DICE were written in big words over his giant hella awesome throne

He has a checkered scarf which brings about a certain ‘game’ feeling

he literally challenged you to card games

I’m.... I’m just gonna throw it out there, but there’s a pretty good chance the group he led was called ‘DICE’.

YOU SAW THE VIDEO YOU SAW IT DAMN YOU MAKI I KNOW YOU’RE BETTER THAN THIS YOU ARE SMARTER THAN THIS!!!!

“Maki also said he literally said he didn’t know what she was talking about when she interrogated him with a crossbow literally aimed directly at him but surely that’s unrelated -”

s o b s

I 100% bet Tsumugi was not counting on them finding this room. So.... beginning the trial, she tried to do a Kaede/Kaede’s twin mastermind thing. Then she switched tactics to being solely ‘Junko’ and her lackey Kokichi setting up the game with the last survivors of humanity as... revenge for Hope’s Peak, I guess? Or something.

So where are we going from here? Are we about to discover this was all a simulated scenario then?

Sort of like they’re trying to test different outcomes and scenarios - with different talents, maybe? Is there the selected 16 (15? 14?) talents that can be switched around at will, or is there a larger database of students’ talents? That’s what I really want to know.

But “there are an endless possibilities for lies,” a certain person may say.

why are you all ganging up on me also how when two of you are literally the same person and the other one is an AI acting as an extension of you -

It sort of hit me but this is a weird echo of Korekiyo’s trial, with Junko and Tsumugi switching back and forth with each other the way Korekiyo and his sister did. I wonder if there’s something to that, or if it says something about Tsumugi in general...

(one hangman’s gambit later...)

TALENTS ARE NOT THEIRS AND POSSIBLY ARBITRARY CONFIRMED

I WOULD KILL FOR KOKICHI TO POP OUT OF THE GRAVE TO SHOUT IT’S A LIE RIGHT NOW

FUCK YOU BEAR

ghggkhgkh

that is a dangerous precedent to set

But you weren’t planning on revealing this, right??? Right???? Your hand was totally forced! Don’t play this off like it wasn’t!

I swear I had a similar idea when I was coming up with how they could see themselves in photos/pictures if the students weren’t actually who they thought they were - about how their brain filled in the gaps and placed their own faces where they’d expect to see them (like in the funeral scene with the portraits, etc). Glad to know I was kinda right on that regard!

I really like it when they combine Junko and Tsumugi here. There’s probably something to that - when it’s Tsumugi herself acting as the mastermind, as opposed to just being ‘Junko’.

T-Those are some pretty big inconsistencies though? Why would there be incorrect options in those flashback lights in the first place? What was there to gain for their being options where ‘Ultimate Despair trapped the first class in’ and ‘Junko is the end-all of Ultimate Despair’? At least Kokichi’s made sense to have on standby, but the other stuff? Isn’t their existence a bit weird?

It’s... nice to see Shuichi focusing on Kokichi. Being posthumous and all it’s a bit late, but it’s still nice - especially after all that talk of ‘not understanding him’ and ‘the embodiment of a lie’, having him finally clue in to Kokichi’s real place in all of this - a victim of the mastermind - is good. It’s the perfect example of ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’ and Kaito figured that out last chapter, so it’s long past due for Shuichi to drag himself and everyone else to that conclusion, kicking and screaming if he must.

(he was jealous of Angie)

because he was trying to stop the game!!!!!

Which, honestly, was pretty clever on her part. I think overall Kokichi will come out of this looking the best - he had so little going for him and almost succeeded in his coup - but the fact that Tsumugi was able to counter his surprise attack still says a lot about her own intelligence and her ability to adapt, because in that moment she also had limited options.

THANK

YOU

LORD

WE HAVE GATHERED HERE TODAY TO SAY FAREWELL TO REMNANT!OUMA THEORY

REST IN PIECES AND NEVER COME BACK

Pretty damn successfully, too.

While the fact that her first inclination was to straight-up murder Kokichi was very Not Good, it’s at least good to know that it took the extra nudge of the flashback lights to push her over the precipice. Basically, it took turning Kokichi into a complete monster in her eyes - Despair with a capital D - to strip away his humanity entirely. I do wonder if she still would’ve staged a rescue mission of sorts to rescue Kaito? For that matter, I wonder if Kaito had been on the outside (with the Flashback Light used on him and everything) and it was someone else being held hostage like Shuichi, would he have been able to talk Maki down?

It’s interesting how they’re turning hope itself into a weapon here. I think Junko talked about this in the first game, the idea of giving hope out to maximize despair, so it’s not the first time the mastermind has actively used hope as a weapon - but it’s never felt quite as dirty as it does here.

!!! We’re seeing her as herself in the room!!! I guess it’s the flashback light classroom, but still!

That is so unfair considering they were all being threatened with death, you were straight up messing with their brains and also that airlock exists??? And they straight-up collapsed after being exposed to the outside??? I’m 

I think Shuichi managed to break away from that a bit at the end... maybe. He seems more motivated by righting the wrong in Kaede’s case at this point, and of avenging everyone who died - but the same can’t be said of the others.

Man I even wondered what it would be like without Kaito and Kokichi there considering they’ve been the strongest ‘movers’ on both sides - and the answer ended up being ‘I’ll give you artificial motivation to act’.

SHE’S.... REALLY A KILLING GAME FAN GIRL AFTER ALL..........

Oh, this does feel dirty. She’s lusting after them in an abstract way - like pieces on a chessboard. Kokichi was able to compartmentalize and make people take certain actions to an extent, but even he had attachments that he wasn’t able to shake. I knew it felt like she had managed to keep herself from getting too close to them, with the sole exception of the protectiveness she felt for Gonta (which?? I want to know if we’ll hear anything about that specifically???) but this is... wow.

Actually, this is very Komaeda-esque isn’t it? She wants to see them succeed in their battles against each other in a similar way...

Junko only gets that look when she’s actually mad. So if Tsumugi is sporting that... well, she must be smarting a bit underneath all the gloating she’s doing. She was happily spouting off ‘hints’ before, right?

Oh??

me too tbh

OH THE TURNABOUT MUSIC IS HERE

THAT TRANSITION WAS SO GOOD AND SMART WHAT A GREAT WAY TO USE THE PORTRAIT STAND

oooh! OOOOH! OH WHAT A FANTASTIC POINT!

SHUICHI MY BOY YOU’RE ON A ROLL NOW! GET HYPED GET HYPED GET HYP -

AAAAAAAAAAH

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hajimemed

[leaahhh]

late october neuroses

(it seems we’ve graduated from fixations)

the new skullcrusher album, particularly “window somewhere”

i took last friday off of work with no plans in mind, other than meandering. liat had a birthday party at 9 then the NYFF closing party was up at columbus circle at 11, so i had a full day to burn. i walked for hours in the morning, then texted adam; i’d bought a jacket from the new uniqlo collection for him since he was on a plane when it dropped. i had time to swing over to fort greene to drop it off mid-afternoon, which was silly and logistically ineffective because i’d be going back and forth between fort greene and greenpoint twice within a few hours, but i didn’t really mind at that point, i felt that much like a leaf in the wind. that, and it was a peak fall day – i refused to stay indoors.

i listened to skullcrusher’s “quiet the room” while i walked between neighborhoods, and i can’t be sure if it was because of the heavy haze my brain has been stuck in for months or the way the sun just so happened to be shining at that moment – it was likely the lethal combination of the two – but as the last 2.5 minutes of “window somewhere” flooded my ears, i felt some mix of ecstasy and sickness somewhere deep in me. i think it’s my favorite moment in music this year, no matter how subtle. 

EDWARD HOPPER’S NEW YORK at the whitney

M and i went to see the hoppers the first sunday the exhibit opened; it was crowded inside the museum and rainy out. i was happy to see automat (1927), one of his more popular (read: Basic) works. it reminded me of a tiny little print i’ve taped to several walls of apartments i’ve lived in, with lyrics from the national’s “pink rabbits” laid over top. it’s prime melodramatic tumblr (that’s where the image is from, anyway), and i thought about that song while i stared at the actual painting:

“you didn’t see me, i was falling apart i was a white girl in a crowd of white girls in the park you didn’t see me, i was falling apart i was a television version of a person with a broken heart”

we left the museum and ate at a restaurant all the way on the west side near the water that i still don’t know the name of, even after i’ve stumbled in on random nights with different friends 3 or 4 times now. we talked for hours – mostly about loneliness – during a long walk, recircling the block and taking the longest ways around to keep the conversation going.

i’ve been thinking about loneliness a lot lately, how it’s followed me closer than my own shadow for as long as i can remember. it really rears its filthy head around this time of year. this penchant for melancholy is baked into my being now, and it’s especially amplified as i learn some lessons regarding heartbreak a little later in life than most. in some ways it feels meta and surreal to process love and loneliness with the person who at one point sort of bestowed them both upon you, but i feel grateful for my relationship with him, even to the (justifiably) concerned raised eyebrows of some witnesses. i believe in love, now, though, and in its ability to transform. i couldn’t say that at the beginning of the year.

relatedly, this poem by jane stembridge

[illumlne-blog]

I have answered a rather long questionnaire on myself and though some of the questions are rather intrusive, I answered them to the best of my abilities.

What is your full name?

My name is Rose Lalonde.

Where and when were you born?

December 4th 1995. My meteor crashed into Rainbow Falls, New York.

Who are/were your parents?

I had a mother but she passed on. Ecto parents are a different scenario all together.

Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like?

No. Except for Dearest Darling David.

Where do you live now, and with whom? Describe the place and the person/people.

What is your occupation?

Write a full physical description of yourself. You might want to consider factors such as: height, weight, race, hair and eye color, style of dress, and any tattoos, scars, or distinguishing marks.

I have only recently turned 21. My physique could be admirably described as Chubby. Most of my dresses are black, and my hair is styled into a blond pixie cut. I have yet to derogate my skin with any pigment but I do have a piercing. I’ll let you ponder where.

To which social class do you belong?

I used to think I was an Atheist ‘till I realized I’m a God.

Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses?

A very limited form of Lactose Intolerance and a terrible case of Spring Fever. Nothing life threatening.

Are you right- or left-handed?

Oh, how I wish I could say Ambidextrous, but rather Right handed.

What does your voice sound like?

Like a poorly trained Shakespearean actor. Or in other words, far too loud.

What words and/or phrases do you use very frequently?

I see. How does that make you feel? Now, let’s talk about your mother.

What do you have in your pockets?

My dress doesn’t have pockets. I usually have a vast array of goofy gadgets and unique combinations in my sylladex.

Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics?

I have been advised that my leg bouncing is not in fact normal. I tend to chew on things often, and if I hear another “Oral Fixation” joke I will not hesitate to kill.

Part 2: Growing Up

How would you describe your childhood in general?

A deadly and despicable game of one-upsmanship with a cold uncaring shrew. My memories of this might be a bit twisted.

What is your earliest memory?

I remember Jasper’s funeral. We stood in the rain for an hour while mother sobbed crocodile tears in a bizarre show of power.

How much schooling have you had?

Before the game, I was top of my class, but that was grade 8 and I have not done much since. It is a wonder I am still functioning.

Did you enjoy school?

I don’t remember it well. I was rather elitist back then and treated my classmates as lesser. There was a reason all of my friends are online.

Where did you learn most of your skills and other abilities?

Most of my life skills come from either ancient tomes or being involved in life or death scenarios. A healthy childhood leading to a well-rounded adulthood.

While growing up, did you have any role models? If so, describe them.

Most of my role models could be found within the dusty pages of the Grimoire of the Zoologically Dubious. To put it simply, I do not look up to them any longer.

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?

A psychoanalyst. Freud was a moron.

As a child, what were your favorite activities?

I took up knitting for a short while. It has been sometime since my needles were used for this intended purpose. I enjoyed reading, always fascinated by Purple Prose. “It is a tale. Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing”

As a child, what kinds of personality traits did you display?

All of the common ones for a child my age. Smart, quick witted, a deep fascination with the occult, funny.

As a child, were you popular? Who were your friends, and what were they like?

Was I popular in school? Not quite. Was I popular online? More so, but still not quite.

When and with whom was your first kiss?

I met a childhood friend for the first time in person. Her lips were warm while the chill

Are you a virgin? If not, when and with whom did you lose your virginity?

Virginity is a social construct I firmly do not believe in.

If you are a supernatural being (i.e. mage, werewolf, vampire), tell the story of how you became what you are or first learned of your own abilities. If you are just a normal human, describe any influences in your past that led you to do the things you do today.

I became a god upon death. Not a thrilling story but it’s not one I remember all too well. I plan to shape the new world into my vision. One with less sports.

Part 3: Past Influences

What do you consider the most important event of your life so far?

The day the Beta was released. The longest day I have ever experienced.

Who has had the most influence on you?

My dearest friends. Without them I would be nothing more than a scared child. Don’t tell Dave I admitted this.

What do you consider your greatest achievement?

I have done many things, but I firmly believe the best is in front of me.

What is your greatest regret?

I regret ever listening to their words in the first place.

What is the most evil thing you have ever done?

Evil is subjective.

Do you have a criminal record of any kind?

No. I am a good little girl.

When was the time you were the most frightened?

Blood leaking from my stomach, my soul perched on the edge of my body, just screaming to escape. If it weren’t for that bed, I would be doomed.

What is the most embarrassing thing ever to happen to you?

Nothing embarrassing that happens to me shall ever be recorded.

If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be, and why?

If you remain focused on the past you can never see what’s in front of you. I have made many mistakes but I would not go back and change a thing. I am who I am and that is all I shall ever be.

What is your best memory?

My breath visible as it floated on the cold winter air. Her features remain ever present in my memory. My lips were chapped but hers were not. I’ll never forget the scent surrounding her.

What is your worst memory?

I fell down the stairs once and Dave witnessed. We both know which reference in particular was spouted at me for an eternity and a half.

Part 4: Beliefs and Opinions

Are you basically optimistic or pessimistic?

It is hard to be a downer when one can see the future. Though I thrive in the darkness, I know better than anyone that some sparks will never be snuffed out.

What is your greatest fear?

The unknown.

What are your religious views?

Me

What are your political views?

No gods, No Kings, only Me.

What are your views on sex?

I neither seek it out nor condone the act. It doesn’t weigh heavily on my mind.

Are you able to kill? Under what circumstances do you find killing to be acceptable or unacceptable?

I have killed and will likely kill again.

In your opinion, what is the evilest thing any human being could do?

Mankind has committed many atrocities, some too terrible to name but there is a special spot in the deepest pits of Tartarus for those who commit sexual assault in my eyes.

Do you believe in the existence of soul mates and/or true love?

While I do not personally believe that anything is set in stone, I would be lying if I claimed that I didn’t buy into the hype. It’s nice to think there is someone perfect out there for me.

What do you believe makes a successful life?

I want to be something to someone. I’ll make a name for myself no matter what.

How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings (i.e. do you hide your true self from others, and in what way)?

Emotions are complicated beast. My methodology for dealing with them is writing them out in private or avoiding them all together. Not the most effective strategy but I never claimed to be well-rounded.

Do you have any biases or prejudices?

Not as far as I know. I would like to think I am an open-minded person. However, everyone has their blind spots.

Is there anything you absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances? Why do you refuse to do it?

This is a loaded question. There is probably plenty I would not do.

Who or what, if anything, would you die for (or otherwise go to extremes for)?

I’ve never considered it. Anyone I hold dear would be under my protection. Although I don’t think I will be dying again anytime soon.

Part 5: Relationships With Others

In general, how do you treat others (politely, rudely, by keeping them at a distance, etc.)? Does your treatment of them change depending on how well you know them, and if so, how?

I am described as Flighty Broad for a reason. I tend to keep people at an arm’s length. Trust is hard earned and well deserved.

Who is the most important person in your life, and why?

I do not like placing that load upon one individual. There are several.

Who is the person you respect the most, and why?

See previous question.

Who are your friends? Do you have a best friend? Describe these people.

I have three close friends. Three others that helped me survive the game. I would place the mantle of best friend on Jade to be fair. She’s always been a guiding light and anyone reading these answers might have gathered that. Dave and John are two unfathomably dorky people but I can vouch for them.

Do you have a spouse or significant other? If so, describe this person.

No I do not.

Have you ever been in love? If so, describe what happened.

Love is just a chemical reaction in your brain.

What do you look for in a potential lover?

This questionnaire is growing boring. I do not have an exact answer as of right now. I’ll let you know when she comes into my life.

How close are you to your family?

Dave is my only family. The best brother a sister could ask for. Surprisingly easy to beat at nearly any game.

Who would you turn to if you were in desperate need of help?

Any of my three friends. Depends on whoever is easier to contact in the given moment.

Do you trust anyone to protect you? Who, and why?

Well Dave is a Knight. Is this good enough for you? I am not a mere damsel in distress.

If you died or went missing, who would miss you?

Now that is just cold. Have I mentioned my friends yet?

Who is the person you despise the most, and why?

Those trolls from during the game were frustrating.

Do you tend to argue with people, or avoid conflict?

I was always told to pick my battles and I am picking all of them.

Do you tend to take on leadership roles in social situations?

You would be daft to ignore my oversight.

Do you like interacting with large groups of people? Why or why not?

Not overly. Normal people scare me.

Do you care what others think of you?

It holds a grip on my every waking thought.

Part 6: Likes And Dislikes

What is/are your favorite hobbies and pastimes?

I should take up knitting again. I do have a penchant for video games, though that is what got me into this mess. I play violin occasionally, not professionally. It’s hard to say. Mostly whatever keeps me entertained from day to day.

What is your most treasured possession?

Now this is a tough choice. Most likely my Thorns of Oglogoth.

What is your favorite color?

Black

What is your favorite food?

I have a passion for Italian food. This is likely just a current fascination.

What, if anything, do you like to read?

Haha, Oh man.

What is your idea of good entertainment (consider music, movies, art, etc.)?

All forms of media can be an art form. Just because there is a bad movie or bad painting does not discredit the medium. I enjoy many things and am not one to shut down anything at first glance.

Do you smoke, drink, or use drugs? If so, why? Do you want to quit?

No.

How do you spend a typical Saturday night?

I mostly stay home. Though Saturday is the same as any other day for me.

What makes you laugh?

Schadenfreude.

What would you do if you had insomnia and had to find something to do to amuse yourself?

The best cure to insomnia is to try and sleep regardless. Tossing and turning in bed is better for you than staring at a phone. Though while trying to sleep, I do tend to travel through alternate versions of the day’s activities.

How do you deal with stress?

Very poorly. It has been a few years since I last had anything to worry about and not knowing something always worries me.

Are you spontaneous, or do you always need to have a plan?

With me there is very little difference.

What are your pet peeves?

Care for a comprehensive list?

Part 7: Self Images And Etc.

Describe the routine of a normal day for you. How do you feel when this routine is disrupted?

My life is a miasma of mistakes and very little routine.

What is your greatest strength as a person?

I would say it’s my wit and cunning charm.

What is your greatest weakness?

I can be quite selfish and a bit abrasive in the wrong circumstances.

Are you generally introverted or extroverted?

I would say Introverted. It’s tricky but I definitely prefer being alone more often than not.

Are you generally organized or messy?

The latter. I am a mess but a controlled mess.

Do you like yourself?

Yes. To an extent.

What are your reasons for being an adventurer (or doing the strange and heroic things that RPG characters do)? Are your real reasons for doing this different than the ones you tell people in public? (If so, detail both sets of reasons...)

I do what I do because I must. Noone else will.

What goal do you most want to accomplish in your lifetime?

I want to ensure everyone in the world knows Freud was a moron.

Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

Sitting on a beach by the ocean. A huge black umbrella protecting me from the sun.

If you could choose, how would you want to die?

I would die protecting those I cared about.