#I hardly use either of those sites

[sunshinecassette]

How is fucking REDDIT infinitely more tolerant to anything lgbt compared to the atrocious comments I see every time I accidentally click on an Instagram reel

[simpingforheros]

Bring Me To Life

Pairing: Arkham Knight!Jason Todd x Female! Reader

Summary: Destroy the Batman and get his companion back? Jason almost didn't believe Slade until... Warnings: Usage of female pronouns, Nudity (NO smut), Swearing, Character Death, Angst, Resurrection, Infantization ( I didn't know how to better describe this), Unhealthy relationship dynamics, Kinda Dark/Obsessive! Jason, Mentions Electroshock therapy, Implied Brainwashing, Slade being a creep, Mentions of Drug Abuse, Mentions of Child Neglect, Mentions of Child Homelessness and unsafe situations, SPOILERS for Death in the Family (Comic 1988) and Arkham Knight.

Author's Note: Hiya Everyone, This is the first fanfic I've written in a while and the christianing fic for this account. I may start a casual little series with this, but I don't know yet. Also any comic and game inaccuracies are either because I forgot or I adjusted it to fit the story.

Also while this post is mostly safe for work, MINORS DNF AND PLEASE READ WARNINGS. I DO NOT AUTHORIZE ANYONE TO STEAL MY WORK OR REPOST IT ON OTHER SITES.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It was supposed to be him...

Those dark nights he had spent alone on the streets as a child didn't seem so bad looking back on it. Jason understood struggle even when he had lived with his parents who spent grocery money on alcohol and drugs. Living on the streets didn't feel so much worse, especially since he had... "Jason, Mr. Accetta gave me some scraps from dinner rush today! There's even a whole pizza in here!"

Her. His one friend had since he was thrown into this harsh world. She was the only person he knew at the time to never stop smiling or finding a positive outlook on things. He couldn't even remember when they met, but he could hardly remember them being apart.

Whether he was stealing or fighting, she was there as a faithful lookout or a willing accomplice. She taught him how to take tires off of cars like her granddad taught her and he taught her how to throw a punch like his dad used to throw. An unstoppable duo who ran the alley as well as two 11-year-olds could.

The harsh winter nights they spent crowding together were his favorite memories from that time. Even with the bite of Gotham's winds at their toes, his partner would never falter to talk about anything and everything as he listened. She would talk about her dead grandparents a lot and all the stories she had with them before they passed away, but his mind couldn't recall them at all. He just remembers the constant dream that she told him every night.

"One day, Jay, I'm gonna have enough money and get an apartment in Old Gotham..." Jason's nose turns up as he listens to his friend as he bites on his food. "Why Old Gotham? Isn't it just falling apart?"

She giggles as she pulls the oversized coat closer to her shivering body. The jacket was from a relative but the fabric lost those memories as its fibers were now bones. She still had it even after she left the streets...

"Because it's the most beautiful place in the world...I will get an apartment someday and you and I will live there. We can even get like a cat or something."

The familiar burn on Jason's face blooms as he asks, "Why would you want me there?"

"Because it wouldn't be my dream home unless you're there with me."

He wouldn't find out until a few years later that her grandparents used to live in Old Gotham until her grandfather died and her grandmother had to move as she would unknowingly follow her husband not even a year later...

Those nights in the streets melted into nights spent in the warmth of Wayne manor. As the two thieves became kings after a faithful night with the Batmobile, Jason was brought into the world of crime fighting along with his closest friend. As they trained and donned their capes, She would show a new side of herself to Jason. The overly happy young girl from the streets became an anxious teenager as he became angerier.

"Jason..." Her voice woke him up in the darkest of nights. His body ached from the nightly fights from the previous day as he turned to see a familiar sight.

A now 14-year-old Y/N standing in the crack of the door. Her fidgeting figure indicated all he needed to know before he raised his blanket as she scurried to get in the bed. This was a ritual that started when they moved in. Both would grow anxious at night as they went from the open streets to a large, confining manor. Alfred almost had given up on trying to scold the teens as they were found sharing a bed more times than being separated.

As she curled into his side as much as she could without hurting him, he could practically hear her mind tinkering as her E/C eyes stared into his chest.

There wasn't the need to discuss what was on her mind. At least not right now. She was concerned about the growing tension between Bruce and Jason. He was becoming reckless and Bruce was having none of it with her often getting dragged into the middle of the fights.

He hated that he never tried more...

It shouldn't have surprised him when all the conflict had finally caused a break in the family. Especially when Jason began looking for his birth mother. Y/N tried to be supportive of him as he investigated his leads. Those leads eventually led to Jason reuniting with Bruce as he investigated a possible arms trade in Lebanon. The reconciliation and the prospect of finding his mother left him blind to any form of common sense, but what kind of common sense could a fifteen-year-old make in the life they lived?

He should have listened to her concerns when they finally found Sheila Haywood, his real mother. Y/N had a bad feeling from the start but he dismissed her worries. Jason had no clue that the night he was supposed to meet with Sheila was gonna end up being one of the worst nights of his life....

"Jason, maybe you should wait for Bruce to be here so he can come with you." She suggested softly.

His eyes roll as he adjusts his costume. "Because it's none of his business. I'm just meeting with my mom and talking out some stuff..."

He didn't tell her about the blackmailing he witnessed earlier that day between his mother and the Joker. But, he would find out later that she already knew about it through Bruce.

Her hand reaches for his shoulder and pulls him around to face her. "I'm serious. You shouldn't meet with a woman you barely know in some fucking warehouse in the middle of nowhere!"

Jason can remember the hurt he felt when he heard her snap at him, Oh, how angry he got with her when all she wanted was to protect him. He remembers yelling at her the worst thing he thought he could say to her.

Why the fuck did he ever say that to her?

"I'm sorry your parents didn't want anything to fucking do with you, but I'm not gonna let your bitter ass ruin my shot to be with mine."

He remembers the hurt that filled her eyes and the string of regret pooling in his gut. With a fake smile on her face and tears pooling in her eyes, Y/N says softly,

"Okay...I'm sorry," The sharp sting in his neck as she pressed the vial of sedatives Bruce gave her into his veins. "I'm sorry to do this, Jason, but Bruce said you wouldn't go down that easily."

Jason couldn't remember what he said after the spark of betrayal hit him, but he hated himself that the last time he saw those eyes they were clouded with the tears he caused....

"Y/N! Please talk to me!" Jason begs into the coms as he rod on the back of the motorbike with Bruce.

He should have known. Her instincts are never wrong and he doubted her.

When Bruce found him unconscious and told him about how Joker was involved in all of this, Jason should have known that it was all a trap. His mother wasn't a poor blackmailed soul, she was a conniving bitch who profitted.

He also should have known that Y/N was gonna go meet with Sheila instead of him. Where the Joker was waiting for her.

"Y/N, please. Please be okay...." He begged to the coms as he can only think about what he said to her the last time they spoke.

"J...Jason...."

"Y/N!" Relief washed over him like a wave as he heard her voice. Her broken pained moaned of his voice made him sick as he tried to at least rationalized that at least she was alive. "Don't worry, honey. We know where you are and we're coming to help you."

He didn't know that she was laying battered and broken against the locked door as she stared at the bomb that was ticking away on the wall. Her labored breaths blocked out the ticking on the comms as she whispers out.

00:12

"Do you remember the apartment?..."

"What apartment? The one you talked about in the alley? Why are you-?"

She interupts him, he can hear the familiar curl of her smile in her pained voice as she whispered,

"I wanted it to have a window facing the east end...the stars always looked pretty over there..."

00:10

"Y/N, what are you-"

"I wanted one of those Tabby-looking cats like the ones we saw in the alleyway outside of Mr. Accetta's restaurant...Name it Frank after that old Italian fucker...I was hoping we could go back and actually buy dinner in that restaurant someday..."

00:08

"Are you okay? Why are you talking like this? We are almost there. I can see the building! We are almost here. I'M COMING TO SAVE YOU."

Jason's desperation was palpable as he heard his beloved talk like she was on her deathbed. His panic causes Bruce to drive faster as the Batcycle inches closer to the warehouse. "Jason"

00:04

"Jason, I love you...I have since I was 13..." She admits as her voice trembles. "I used to dream we would become the family we always wanted with each other...Thank you for being in my life and I'm sorry I let you down..."

00:03

"Y/N, I -"

00:02

"Wait!"

00:01

"Goodbye, Jason..."

.

.

.

It should have been him who died that night... It was supposed to be him. NOT HER.

Jason blamed himself for her death as soon as he helped pull her broken corpse out of the rubble. He tried to convince himself that it wasn't her. This wasn't his Batgirl. Not his best friend who would run around the manor with him or help him pickpocket pedo freaks on the street. This broken little girl that was in his adoptive father's arms wasn't his first love. She was a bright, kind light who protected her loved ones, not this broken shell who wore her skin...

But, it was her...

He blamed Bruce for it too. He was the one gave her the orders to keep Jason away from the warehouse. He had to have known that she was gonna go instead. Bruce should have known she was because she wanted to be wrong about Sheila so Jason could be happy...

He also blamed the Joker. He wanted that Clown dead... His opportunity presents itself after he tracks Joker down to an abandoned wing of Arkham trying to flee from blowing up a children's hospital.

Blinded by his rage and bloodlust, Jason went in alone and without any communication. Y/N would scold him in her grave as he fell for the trap, sealing him in a cycle of hell for a year.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"What if I could?"

"Do what?"

"Bring her back. Would you be willing to work for Crane if I could bring back the little Batgirl?"

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He knew it was bullshit.

Bringing back someone from the dead was impossible.

Jason would have been satisfied if his pseudo-partner/ prisoner, Deathstroke, just told him that he would be able to kill the Batman and wipe the hell hole that is Gotham off the face of the earth. He already dedicated a full year after his escape from Arkham to building his army.

His only regret during this time was not killing Joker himself. Even after all the torture and pain that clown did to him, he regretted not bashing the Joker's skull in after their last encounter as Slade helped him escape. It wouldn't have mattered to him at the time that Slade would have killed him because it wouldn't have been revenge for his own torture.

it would have been for Y/N. For the hell she faced that night. After a few months in Arkham, Jason almost accepted his torture as punishment for not dying that day for her because he experienced everything she felt. Every day he experienced everything she had to feel those short agonizing hours for an entire year. She must have been so scared and Jason couldn't save her.

The only thing that kept him from giving up was the memories he had of her and the burning hatred for those who caused her light to be snuffed out too soon.

He just wanted to feel that warmth again...

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"If you can do that, then I'll burn the whole world to the ground for that fucking lunatic."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Please Jason. Let us help you!" Barbara Gordan begged from her cell as Jason snaps at her.

"THERE IS NO HELPING! I CAN FIX IT!"

Jason was manic. His men were being tugged around like dog toys by Batman and Slade had left him hours ago to attend some matter he didn't care to ask about. His time was running thin and he knows he needs to end this soon. It didn't help that those he didn't want involved are here as well like Barbara.

"Sir..." A militia soldier says as he nervously walks into the room. HIs men were already aware how stupid it was to come near him when he's in a crazed anger. Jason's head whipped at him like a feral man as he grits out.

"What is it?"

"Deathstroke is here...and he uh..."

Impatience reaches a boiling point as Jason raises his gun and shoots the militia solider in the head as Barbara shrieks. The red puddle of death fills the sterile room with lead as Deathstroke walts in. Jason turns his back towards him as places his helmet back into place.

"My, what a mess you made." Deathstroke mockingly scolds. The hidden smirk almost causes Jason to snap again.

"Where have you been? Batman is out there taking down my tanks faster than my men can repair them. You told m-!"

The Arkham Knight's monologue was intruppted as he turns to scold Slade by his heart dropping to his stomach at the sight before him. He swore that if he didn't hear Barbara's gasp and the whisper of fate's name, he would have woken up back in that dreaded wing of Arkham Asylum.

Slade chuckles as he rattles the chain in his hand as he says coyly, "What? Am I not allowed to go fetch your payment?"

Standing behind Deathstroke was a naked woman. Her tangled up (H/C) hair ran down her shoulders as her wide innocent eyes shined through the now white tendrils framing her face. Her body seemed more mature but all muscle mass she had was faded. Her face seemed aged but he recognized the curve of her nose and those lips he imagined smiling at him through his darkest moments.

"Y/N?" He helplessly calls out to her as he feels himself pulled towards her like a magnet.

If it wasn't for the stark white streak and gnarly, painful-looking scars on her body, Jason would have thought this was Scarecrow's fear toxin. It couldn't be possible, right? She was dead. He knew she was because he held her body. He felt how cold she was and watched how her lifeless eyes looked up to the ash ridden sky.

Those eyes now looked at him with no familiarity, but a childlike wonder as she naively smiles at him.

"How?" Was all the Arkham Knight could muster as he reaches to grab her. To pull her into his arms and never let her leave.

Deathstroke grabs the collar that was wrapped around her neck and yanks her back behind him as she chokes on her breath. He chuckles as he looks back into Jason's voiceless mask.

"The Lazarus Pit brought back her body." He explains as he hauntingly twirls the chain in his hand. "Of course, after you agreed to work with Crane, I brought her back immediately. Unfortunately, the poor thing suffered from Pit Madness."

A cruel smirk appears on Deathstrokes lips as he pushes the girl's hair back to reveal circular scars on her temples. Jason felt rage bubbling up in his throat as he recognized what those scars were.

Prolonged Electroshock Therapy

"You sick!" Before Jason could throw a punch, Slade places his gun on Y/N's forehead as he chuckles. The woman didn't even sense the danger as she continued to observe everyone with a curious eye. Jason immediately backs off as Slade continues.

"Of course. Her treatment did cause her to be cured of the madness but at the cost of her memories. She barely remembers how to take care of herself so you make it like that. Especially when you want to fuck her."

Jason was thankful for his mask as he would have killed him from his glare. To imply that she was just a potential fucktoy made him itch to bury this man in the deepest bowels of hell. As he quietly glares at him, Slade finally offers him the chain. The Arkham Knight accepts the chain as the assassin warns him,

"Now since you got your payment. You better keep your end of the deal..." His voice becomes threatening as he says.

"Because I can easily kill her just as I brought her back.'"

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

AN: I was gonna write more, but I got exhausted so this is all I got. Let me know if it's a vibe or not.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

@simpingforheros fanfic. I DO NOT AUTHORIZE THE COPYING, STEALING, OR REPOSTING OF MY WORKS ON OTHER WEBSITES WITHOUT CREDIT.

[punkshort]

Listen

Summary: You and Joel explore an abandoned library and you get under each other's skin.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!reader, established relationship, set in the TWWW universe, no use of Y/N. (Can be read as stand alone, only backstory that needs to be known is Joel was once reader's boss but I included a small blurb about it to explain)

Warnings: language, smut (MDNI 18+), roleplay, dom/sub dynamic (very light, nothing extreme), dirty talk, oral (m receiving), spanking, unprotected piv sex, rough sex, creampie (don't do this, muy dangerous)

Word count: 5.7K

A/N: if anyone wants to be removed from the taglist, just shoot me a quick message or comment. I kept the same list from the main story but I don't know if you want to be included in the one-shots.

May 2006

"I could kill Tommy for tellin' you 'bout that place," Joel grumbled as he shoved food in your backpack. You lifted your head from the paper you were scrutinizing on your kitchen counter to look at him.

"Oh, come on. It's a quick trip, we'll be back around dinner," you told him, looking back down at your list.

Tommy and Joel had recently found a small, abandoned town in the mountains. One day, after they had come back from a supply run to pick over anything useful, Tommy mentioned at dinner that there was a library in town.

Joel had groaned and immediately buried his face in his hands the moment the words left Tommy's mouth. You had just been telling Joel that you and Carrie were looking for some textbooks, so the two of you got to work writing up any type of topic either of you could use for gardening and medicine.

He tried arguing with you, he tried begging you. He tried offering to do the trip himself, but nothing worked. You had told him he could either come with you and help carry the books back, or you would find someone else. Of course, he caved.

"Please, just gimme the list, I'll take care of it for you," he tried pleading once more, but you shook your head as you shouldered your backpack and shoved your handgun in the back of your pants.

"Joel, we talked about this," you said, swinging the door open and marching down the steps, heading towards the stables. It was early. The town was about a four hour ride away from Jackson. You wanted to get a move on so you could be back before dark.

"Hardly," he scoffed, catching up with you. "Didn't exactly come up with a compromise."

"Sure we did," you told him, turning the corner of your street. "The compromise was you coming with me."

He huffed and stayed quiet until you reached the stables. You always had this way of making him feel like he was in charge, but in reality, you ended up winning any disagreement you've ever had. He was grumbling to himself, wondering how on earth you managed to talk him into this when you turned and tossed him a bright smile over your shoulder with a wink, and he felt his heart flutter. Oh, that's how.

Carl already had a horse saddled up for you when you arrived. You expressed your gratitude, especially considering how early it was, and led the mare out of the barn. Joel shoved his foot in the stirrup and swung his leg over the saddle, settling in before reaching an arm down to help you up. You wrapped your arms around his waist and gave the back of his neck a quick kiss before you pressed the side of your face into his shoulder blades.

He sighed as he led the horse through the gates and towards the woods. He didn't used to be this soft. People used to do what he asked, when he asked, and they thanked him for it. You were never one of those people, though. From day one, you stood your ground and never let him shake you. Even his own brother dreaded Joel's outbursts at work. Men used to cower at him on job sites when Joel demanded answers on why something was done wrong, or why a job was taking longer than it should. He was never a people pleaser, and he didn't care. He got the job done, he got results and he made a lot of money doing it.

Then you were hired a few months before the outbreak and turned his world upside down. He found himself going out of his way to try to cross paths with you. He looked forward to the monthly meetings he had with your department just so he could catch glimpses of you throughout the hour. Then, there were the few times you found yourself in his office, delivering reports or checks for him. Those moments lingered with him for days, itching until the next time he got you alone again.

It all worked out in the end, but there was a big misunderstanding that drove a wedge between you. Before you had a chance to work it out, the outbreak hit, and you both ended up traveling across the country together, seeking safety while trying to stay alive. He often wished he had a chance to have a normal relationship with you, one that didn't include life or death scenarios, but one that included traveling, theater, dinners and drinks. If only he hadn't wasted so much time before.

"You're so quiet, are you okay?" you asked him, your breath tickling his ear. He smiled to himself, enjoying the feeling of your body pressed against his. This wasn't so bad, either.

"I'm fine. Just wish you'd listen to me now and then. Last time we left Jackson, things didn't turn out so great," he mumbled, still partially annoyed about the trip, worried about your safety outside the walls he helped build.

"Well, I don't know about that. I seem to remember you having a good time in the end," you teased, and his breath hitched in his throat.

"Quit tryin' to distract me," he said gruffly, knowing your game well enough by now to tell when you were trying to take the focus off of anything bad.

"Sorry," you whispered, not wanting to push your luck. Joel sighed, feeling guilty.

"Just... promise you'll listen to me when we're out here? No dawdlin', and don't leave my sight. If I tell you we gotta wrap it up, we wrap it up. Understood?"

A shiver went down your spine at his domineering tone.

"Yes, sir," you said obediently, smirking into his back. You didn't want to push his buttons, but it was so easy, and you always got excited at the chance to explore outside of Jackson. You never thought you'd want to leave once you discovered the safety within the walls, but you found you eventually became a little stir crazy. A quick trip like this one would scratch that itch for a while, you just wish Joel understood you wanted a little freedom.

"Hey, what'd I say? Stay behind me," Joel hissed as you moved through the library. He had just been there less than a week ago with Tommy, but that didn't mean anything. You rolled your eyes when he turned his head and fell back behind him, your gun drawn at your side. It was an old building in desperate need of updating, the hardwood floors squeaked with nearly every step you took. If anyone or anything was in there, you'd know it by now considering the amount of noise you were making. You knew he had every reason to be anxious, and you tried to be understanding, but you were getting annoyed.

Once he finally determined the building was empty, you happily got to work examining the aisles, pulling books off the shelves and carrying huge stacks over to a conference room and piling them on top of the long, wooden table. You imagined local students maybe booked this room in the past to study or work on projects, considering the room was so close to the reference section.

Joel stayed close, but he paced around a bit, clutching his rifle as he routinely peeked out the windows. He knew there was a slim to none chance he would spot anything. He and Tommy had been to this town three times already, and he never saw a thing. But he refused to take any chances. Not with you.

Bored, he wandered down a row of books, idly reading the titles on the spines as he listened to you drop more heavy books on the table. He paused when he saw a familiar title and shouldered his rifle. He picked the book up and skimmed the first few pages. He leaned up against the bookshelf as he continued to read, completely losing track of time until he realized he hadn't heard you make any noise in a while. He paused and flicked his eyes up, listening closely for any sound from the conference room, but he heard none. He dropped the book and hurried down the aisle, rounding the corner as his head whipped around, looking down the aisles for you as he jogged.

The door to the conference room was wide open as he barged in, glancing around the small room, but you were no where to be found.

"Shit," he whispered, his heart thudding in his chest as he tried to keep the panic at bay. He turned around to check out the other side of the library, whisper-shouting your name as he went. His chest was beginning to constrict as all the worst case scenarios flooded his mind. She had a gun, she would have fired a shot if she was in trouble.

Just when he thought he was going to completely lose it, you emerged from the last row of books with a few paperbacks tucked under your arm. You saw Joel and gave him a smile before you could register the look on his face. He let out a huge breath he hadn't realized he was holding before he grabbed you roughly by the shoulders, making you frown.

"What'd I fuckin' say?!" he seethed, giving your shoulders a harsh shake.

"Excuse me?" you said, squirming away from his grasp.

"I said 'don't leave my sight', and what'd you do?" he said, raising his voice at you. His jaw was clenched as he stared daggers into you. You scoffed and pushed past him, heading back to the conference room.

"I'm an adult, Joel. Stop treating me like a child," you said over your shoulder. "Besides, you were the one who disappeared. I couldn't find you to tell you where I was going."

"I don't fuckin' care, you wait til I'm back and then we go together," he growled, following you back towards the other side of the building. You whipped around to glare at him, making him skid to a stop on the worn out wooden floors.

"I get why you're worried, Joel, I really do, and I appreciate your concern. But I just want a little freedom to live my life. And you're not the boss of me!" you snapped, throwing your free hand up in the air before turning on your heel, back to the privacy of the conference room. You just wanted to pick the best books possible based on what you and Carrie needed so you could get the hell out of there and go home.

Joel's blood ran hot at your words. He remained rooted to the ground where you left him, seething, as he replayed your argument in his head. Maybe he overreacted, but he was too pissed off to think clearly. Blood rushed in his ears as he angrily raked a hand through his hair, thinking again about how soft you've made him. He never considered it a bad thing before, but out in this world when he needed you to just listen to him, it could be a bad thing. You've always been capable, he knew that, but there's been too many close calls in the past and your safety was his only concern. He couldn't risk losing you, it wasn't an option.

He took a few deep breaths in an attempt to stomp out his anger, running his palm over his mouth as he paced back and forth, gripping his revolver. Your words just kept bouncing around in his head over and over. Then he stopped, letting his hand drop from his mouth as he stared at a fixed point on the wall, thinking about your last words: you're not the boss of me.

He shoved his revolver back in his holster and he walked calmly over to the conference room. He leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, watching as you stood in front of the table, diligently checking your list and sifting through piles of books, setting aside the ones you wanted to take by tossing them with a grunt towards the empty duffel bag next to the table.

He could tell you were still angry. You refused to look up at him, even though you knew full well he was standing there watching you. Your mouth was pressed into a thin line and your brows furrowed while you worked, determined to ignore him.

"Sit," he commanded, his voice firm. You stopped what you were doing and sighed before you met his gaze.

"Joel, I really don't feel like -"

"Nuh uh. Wasn't up for debate. And that's Mr. Miller, to you," he said, staring you down. You froze, confused, as you searched his eyes for any playfulness, but found none. You hadn't sat down, but you hadn't said anything either, the gears still turning in your head.

"You said I ain't the boss of you," he told you, pushing himself off the doorframe as he entered the room, sliding the rifle from his shoulder and leaning it against the wall. "But you forget, sweetheart, there was a time I was. Maybe you need to be reminded," he said lowly, his fists coming to rest on the table across from you as he leaned forward, issuing a challenge.

He could see the realization click. Your breathing quickened and your cheeks had a light dusting of pink across them as you slowly lowered yourself into the chair behind you, keeping your eyes glued to his face. He held back the smirk that threatened to pull across his lips, refusing to break the facade.

"So you can do what you're told," he murmured, leaning back from the table, looking down at you. You still didn't say anything, but the anxious tapping of your finger on your leg gave you away. He slowly made his way around the table, his eyes never leaving your face. You kept your head straight, looking ahead at the empty doorway, but you studied him from your peripheral as he approached.

He came to a stop right next to you and watched as your lips parted to accommodate your need for more air, your chest rising and falling faster than usual under your V neck T-shirt, where he could just make out the swell of your breasts from his angle. He hummed appreciatively and reached out a finger to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, taking pride in the way your breath caught in your throat.

"Did you get those reports for me, sweetheart?" he asked quietly, dragging a knuckle gently down your cheek and watching as the heat crawled up your neck.

It took you a moment to understand the game, but you caught up. And once you did, it felt like you had been transported back in time. You were reminded of how painfully nervous he used to make you, but instead of putting you off, it was making you squirm in your chair with anticipation.

"No," you all but whispered, then cleared your throat so he could hear you. "No. Didn't have enough time, I'm sorry Mr. Miller."

Still staring straight ahead, you felt rather than saw him stiffen next to you, and you swallowed roughly. He tsked and shook his head with a sigh. He gripped the back of your chair and flattened his palm on the table, leaning in so he was mere inches from your face.

"You wanna explain to me what's more important than the reports I asked for?" he growled in your ear, and he watched you visibly shudder. When you took too long to respond, he spun you around to face him so fast, it pulled a gasp from your throat, and you had to reach out to grip the arms of your chair in order to steady yourself.

"Answer me," he demanded through gritted teeth, his hand coming from the back of your chair to grip your chin firmly. It took you by surprise how into this he was, and somewhere in the back of your mind you wondered if this had been building up for a while, but you pushed the thought away, trying to focus on the moment.

"I overslept," you squeaked out, inwardly cringing at the lame excuse. But Joel didn't miss a beat. He dropped your chin from his hand and straightened up, still glaring down at you.

"You overslept," he repeated, disappointment dripping from his words as he stared down at you. You slowly dragged your eyes up to meet his. Looking up at him meekly, you nodded.

"See, that ain't good," he told you with a shake of his head, crossing his arms. "How do you expect to make it if you're so goddamn irresponsible?"

You briefly wondered if he was still pretending or if he was trying to warn you about survival, but again, you pushed that thought away for another time.

"Can I make it up to you?" you asked him shyly, shifting your weight as the ache between your legs grew, desperately needing attention. You saw a flicker in his eyes at your question, but he refused to break.

"Gonna have to fire you, I'm afraid," he said sadly. "I've fired people for less, and you need to learn."

"Please, I'll do anything," you begged him, scooting to the edge of your seat.

"Anythin', hm?" he repeated back to you, quirking an eyebrow. You nodded eagerly as you finally allowed your gaze to flick down to his jeans, his belt right at eye level from where you sat. You could see his erection straining against the denim, and your tongue shot out to lick your lips instinctually.

Joel let a lazy smirk tug across his face.

"You wanna suck on the boss's cock, huh?" he asked you teasingly, and again, you nodded, your adrenaline squeezing your throat to the point where you had trouble finding your voice.

"Go ahead, then. I ain't stoppin' ya," he said, his voice gravelly, his accent thick. Your hands flew up from your lap to his belt, fumbling with the buckle until you pulled the leather loose, then got to work popping the button on his jeans and carefully pulled the zipper down. All the while, Joel watched you through heavy lidded eyes, his breath only stuttering momentarily when you took him in your hand and began to slowly pump him up and down.

You looked up to him for approval as you twisted your wrist, your thumb swiping over his slit and dragging his precum down his shaft with your fingers.

"Don't got all day," he snapped. "You either want this job, or you don't."

"I want it," you whispered, your eyes glazed over with lust.

"Then fuckin' show me," he said, thrusting his hips into your hand. His mask slipped slightly when your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, a low groan rumbling from his chest as his eyes slid shut.

"Shit," he whispered to himself as you pulled him in deeper, your tongue swirling around his girth while your head bobbed up and down, taking him in further and further each time. Your fist gripped his base to hold him steady, your swollen lips brushing against your fingers as you did your best to take him down your throat. His hand tangled in your hair, and you whimpered when his hips jutted forward, triggering your gag reflex. You sputtered around him before you pulled away with a sharp gasp, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

He hooked a finger under your chin and dragged your watery eyes up to meet his. He tutted and shook his head, trying to ignore how his cock twitched when he saw your wrecked face.

"Am I too big for that pretty little mouth?" he asked you, and your mind bounced back and forth between answers.

"Yes. I-I mean, no, I can do it, let me try again," you stammered, reaching out to him before he smacked your hand away.

"Up," he commanded, and this time you didn't hesitate. You shot up from your chair so fast, your head was spinning.

"Take 'em off," he told you, his eyes flicking down to your pants. You quickly slid out of your boots and shimmied out of your jeans while Joel watched you, his hand lazily stroking himself as you worked. You were about to pull down your panties when he stopped you.

"Not those," he said roughly, and you gulped and nodded. You had never seen this side of him before, and you felt like your brain was short circuiting. Sure, he used to be gruff and a bit of an asshole when you first met, but whenever you had slept together, he was usually very soft and attentive. He tilted his head towards the table.

"Hands," was all he told you, and you immediately turned to flatten your sweaty palms against the old, smooth wood. You hardly ever found a reason to be embarrassed around him anymore, but when he tapped your ankle to make your legs widen and he spread your ass so he could see the mess you had made between your legs, you felt the heat burning into your cheeks.

You jutted your hips back, eager to feel his fingers on your aching center, but he refused to touch you where you needed him most. Instead, he slid his cock between your legs, rubbing himself against your clothed heat, languidly thrusting back and forth.

"Joel," you whined, the ache inside you becoming painful. Your eyes shot open and you let out a yelp when his hand came down on your ass, your skin stinging from the aftershock.

"What'd you call me?" he muttered angrily in your ear. You had no idea how he was able to restrain himself this long when you thought your legs were already about to give out from under you.

"M-Mr. Miller. I'm sorry," you moaned, your head falling forward between your shoulders as he continued to rub himself against you.

"Messin' up a lot today," he mumbled behind you. You screwed your eyes shut as the tip of his cock prodded your clit, your lower abdomen tightening with each thrust. Joel watched each time he pulled back as his cock glistened with your arousal, even through your underwear, your inner thighs were slick and wet. Knowing you couldn't see him, he allowed a grin to spread across his lips, loving how docile he made you in a matter of minutes.

"Please," you whimpered, desperately begging for him to relieve you.

"Please what?" he shot back, squeezing your hips as he continued to drag his cock against your folds.

"Please fuck me, Mr. Miller," you croaked, on the brink of tears. Joel chuckled at the strain in your voice.

"First sensible thing you said all day," he told you, pushing his jeans and boxers further down his legs. "But tell me why I should listen to you, when you don't bother listenin' to me?"

"I'll listen!" you cried out, your fist pounding on the table in frustration. "I'll listen... just, please," you said softer now, "please, please, please." You sounded pathetic, begging for him bent over a rickety old table in some beat up town, but you only had one primary need at the moment, and you couldn't think about anything else.

"Good girl," he whispered against your ear, and you shuddered underneath him. He hooked a finger inside the soaked fabric and pulled them to the side, revealing your aching cunt to him. He hissed through his teeth, desperate to touch you but he knew you wanted it even more, so he refrained.

He lined his leaking cock up against you, just barely touching you, but the contact made your whole body jump, your nerve endings acting like fireworks under your skin.

"Gotta be still," he muttered, and he waited for your breath to even out and your body to stop fidgeting before he continued. He leaned forward, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

"I ain't gonna be gentle," he warned you, then dropped his voice to a whisper before adding "tell me if it's too much." You whined and tipped your head back, but he waited until he heard you whisper back okay before pushing himself inside you with one quick motion, bottoming out with a heavy groan.

Your walls fluttered around him at the sudden intrusion, frantically trying to accommodate his size as he pulled back and slammed into you again and again, punching the air from your lungs.

"Oh, fuck," you cried out, falling to your elbows on the table. His grip on you was sure to leave marks as he pulled your hips back against him over and over, driving himself as deep as possible inside you. The burn that was akin to pain quickly dissolved to pleasure as your body relaxed and welcomed him in, the tip of his cock nudging against your cervix with each snap of his hips.

Two leftover tears fell from your eyes and landed on the table when you squeezed them shut, your jaw slack as he rammed into you, each time hearing a soft grunt from his throat from the effort. He leaned forward and ran a hand under your shirt and up your stomach, yanking down on your bra and freeing your right breast, which he greedily squeezed in his palm before pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, making you squeak.

"Fuck me, Joel," you said breathily, and your eyes quickly snapped open at your mistake. "I mean-"

His hand disappeared from your breast and rested gently on your ass, rubbing the already pink skin as he waited for you to correct yourself.

"You wanna try that again?" he asked, attempting to show you mercy.

"Mr. Miller," you said shakily. "Fuck me, Mr. Miller." But you chewed on your lower lip, your breath shallow as you braced for impact anyway. Joel raised an eyebrow as he slowed his hips, the corner of his mouth turned up into a smug grin.

"You want it, anyway, don'tcha?" and you nodded, your teeth sinking into your lower lip now so hard you were sure you would draw blood. You let out a gasp of relief when his hand came down again on your ass, the stinging on your skin spreading throughout your whole body, drawing out a filthy moan.

"Fuck," he muttered, and he could tell he was beginning to lose himself in you. He quickly pulled your right leg up so your knee was resting on the table, opening your hips even more as he picked up a ruthless pace. His left hand released your hip in favor of gripping your shoulder while his right hand acted as a brace for your leg so it wouldn't slide down to the ground.

"Please, Mr. Miller, I need..." you groaned and dropped your forehead to the table for a moment when the angle changed, and he began hitting that sweet spot inside you only he could find.

"Whaddya need?" he panted through clenched teeth, his hand squeezing your shoulder to keep you still as he pounded into you, chasing his release.

"Need you to touch me," you whimpered pathetically, bringing your head back up, doing your best to stay upright and not collapse into a puddle on the table.

"I think only good girls get that," he said lowly, his eyes dark as he watched the side of your face contort in pleasure. "Do'ya think you've been good?"

"No," you whispered, shaking your head.

"Why weren't you good?" he questioned you, the power now going straight to his head.

"Because I didn't listen," you admitted weakly. He nodded and hummed in agreement.

"And what're you gonna do from now on?" he pressed, leaning forward so he could make sure he heard you answer.

"I'm gonna listen," you told him, and he grinned from ear to ear.

"That's right," he said, his right hand traveling under your elevated hip to reach your clit, pressing firm circles over the bundle of nerves and eliciting a groan from your mouth. He could tell by the way you were squeezing him that you were right on the edge of an orgasm. His fingers picked up the pace, swirling around your clit with the expertise and knowledge only he had over your body.

"I always take care of you, don't I?" he gasped in your ear, feeling his own orgasm approaching. You nodded, your heart trapped in your throat as you tipped over the edge, your vision going spotty and curses falling from your lips. He gently sunk his teeth into your shoulder blade and removed his hand once he felt your weak thrusts trail off.

"Shit, sweetheart, I'm close," he grumbled, dropping the act and letting his eyes slide shut as he rested his forehead against your upper back, his left hand still firmly planted on your shoulder. He felt your body shudder underneath him, an aftershock of your own climax.

"Come inside me," you said softly, and his eyes snapped open, not sure if he imagined it or not.

"What?" he rasped, and when you repeated yourself, but louder, his breath caught in his throat. He had only done that once before.

You could feel his hesitation, so you turned your head to the side, trying to catch his eye.

"It's okay," you assured him, trying to wordlessly explain that, like before, the timing of your cycle will work out in your favor, knowing that you were about to get your period any day.

He groaned, the unexpected permission to fill you sending him careening towards the brink. He slammed into you mercilessly, and you winced as you tried to breathe through the overstimulation, knowing he was close when his hips stuttered against you. He let go with a loud moan, falling forward as his hips slowed, filling you with his hot spend.

He gasped against your back, his breath hot through your shirt as his hips involuntarily thrusted shallowly forward until he stilled, quietly catching his breath.

"My leg," you reminded him after a moment. Your hips were sore from the angle, and your body was giving up on you.

"Oh, right," he murmured, picking himself off you and sliding out of you with a hiss. He hooked his finger back around your panties and put them back in place, effectively trapping the sticky mess against you, but you didn't care. Your body felt weak and you just wanted to collapse to the floor, which is exactly what you did. Joel joined you, his eyes closed with the back of his head resting against the wall. He blindly tucked himself back into his jeans with a sigh.

You rolled your head to the side to take in his relaxed face, eyes still closed as he breathed deeply. With a grunt, you stood up and scooped your jeans off the floor, shoving your legs back through them carelessly and then squatted to lace your boots up. You looked back up to find Joel watching you, his face breaking out into a smirk when your eyes met.

"C'mon, Mr. Miller. We should head out soon," you teased, smacking his leg as you straightened up.

"I like that a little too much," he said with a sigh as he stood to help you pack up the books in the duffel bag.

The ride home was relatively quiet, the both of you exhausted. The sway of the horse and the feeling of him everywhere was enough to knock you out cold. You thought at one point you may have dozed off against his back for a few minutes, but you weren't sure.

When you arrived back in Jackson, the sun had just set. You slid down from your horse with a wince. Riding a horse in general made your hips and back sore, but combined with the events of the afternoon made your legs almost crumble when you hit the ground, but Joel was right there to catch you, like he was expecting it.

"Told you I always take care of you," he muttered in your ear, and you smiled.

You walked hand in hand slowly down the street, the string lights twinkling above your heads, as you made your way home. When you passed by Tommy and Maria's house, Tommy poked his head out the door to get your attention.

"Why don't you guys join us? Maria made stew," Tommy offered, and you felt your stomach rumble at the words. You briefly thought about declining and just going back home to sleep, but ultimately your hunger won out.

"You look wiped," Maria said after dinner, joining you on the couch while the men made themselves drinks in the kitchen.

"Yeah, long day. I haven't done a trip like that in a while," you told her, readjusting slightly on the couch. The dried mess between your legs had become incredibly uncomfortable and you were dying to go home, but you were too lazy to move.

"And we agreed you ain't doin' any more for a long time," Joel said, entering the room with Tommy.

"That right?" Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow at you. You glanced back and forth between the two brothers before slowly nodding.

"Yeah," you said. "Not for a few weeks."

"Months," Joel corrected, sitting next to you on the couch and draping an arm around your shoulders.

"Months," you repeated after a moment, and Joel had to bring his glass up to his lips to hide his smirk.

Tommy shrugged and asked Maria where a certain record was, causing the two of them to stand in search for it, bickering about who was the last to see it. Joel leaned into you and planted a soft kiss on the side of your head.

"Good girl," he murmured, making you blush. You agreed to his terms for now, but you knew the disagreement was far from over.

Tag List: @chiogarza, @sparklejumpropequeen-777, @shotgun-shelby @partyofone3413 @nana90azevedo @ninaminaromina

[sirenlulls]

you're losing me → e. hewson

pairing —elijah hewson x singer!fem!reader

summary —where you release a new single that sends your friends into a heartbroken panic

sarahskeetz guys, before you go crazy about the eli and y/n rumours, please use some common sense and reevaluate. y/n's wrote countless songs about how elijah is her soulmate AND how media is often so wrong and invasive in regards to their lives and that people shouldn't believe things unless either of them say it directly. plus, these pictures of them were literally posted last month. she'd hardly have prepped you're losing mebto be released in that amount of time

username no fr, even if they did split, they don't deserve the harassment they're both getting online for it

joshjenkily litch. they should be allowed to deal with it in their own time

ynbridgerss okay but the clear parallels between these songs and ylm....

pheebrodrighoe no I get you but y/n hasn't interacted with any of the inhaler guys in a month despite being active online for her tour and even camilla (the number one eliyn stan) hasn't mentioned them since those photos

ynkissmeee lowk hope the rumours are true, he's been leeching off her for years 😭

judebellinghams omg shut up what are you even talking about 💀

yourusername thank u for all the love tonight, la! it's been a hectic week at best so it was lovely to just enjoy the night with you all 💞 but onto the elephant in the room.... i'm still very happily in a relationship with my little babygirl. "you're losing me" is written about my former relationships (mostly platonic) with others that i finally realised were TOTALLY MESSED UP after being with someone who loves me wholeheartedly for so long xx thank you all for the people who did send kind messages my way but please stop listening to gossip sites 😭

sahraskeetz THANK YJE LORD

camillamorrone guys my tweet was bcs y/n ditched me to get food w 🤢eli🤢

yourusername i brought u back a tiramisu shut up

ynxcamistan QUEEN YOU HAD US GAGGED

gracieabrams mother!!

ynhq thank god, we didn't want to leave elijah completely alone in the divorce 💔

robertkeating ❤️❤️

phoebebridgers so in love with you

devonleecarlson stop girl i was giggling over the articles 😭

bellahadid ok stunner

[daughter-of-sapph0]

the reason this website works while others fail is because the main dash is in reverse chronological order and only shows posts by people you choose to follow.

algorithms never work. a computer will never know what someone wants to see more than the actual person. it might give you some content that people can turn off their brains and consume for a few hours. but tumblr doesn't have "content". it doesn't have family friendly short form tiktok videos for people to scroll through for hours. it doesn't have arguments about petty internet drama where people tell each other to kill themselves for disagreeing like twitter does. like, sure those things can exist on tumblr but they aren't the main point of tumblr.

tumblr isn't content. it's conversations and art and writing and music and pictures and movies and experiences and people's lives being shared with their close friends. the reason this website works is because of the fact that their is no algorithm.

algorithms do not work for a website like tumblr. I only want to see the posts and reblogs from people I follow. the people I follow share similar interests to me and share and create posts that I know I will enjoy. even if there's a blog that posts one thing I really like, if the rest of their blog is stuff I have no interest in, I won't follow them.

staff says that the current model unfairly rewards popular blogs.

first of all, rewards them with what? clogged notification? that hardly seems like a positive, and I should know.

secondly, so what? no one cares if anyone is popular or not. follower counts aren't public. blogs don't get popular. certain posts get popular.

also thirdly, their solution to the "popular blogs" issue is to introduce an algorithm which will either:

just promote the posts of blogs with lots of followers, therefore making the "problem" they're trying to fix bigger

recommend posts from smaller blogs who do not want the attention and will end up getting "ew why am I seeing this garbage" on their personal vent posts

completely ruin the whole reason people follow tags and tag their posts in the first place and will end up thinking that non-fandom posts that aren't tagged from fandom blogs should be shown to people in that whole fandom (see point 2)

show posts to people who have no interest in them, such as showing posts about photography to people who only use tumblr to talk about video games, or vice versa

will end up promoting posts by fascists and terfs that staff still will not ban

the whole idea of an algorithm is a fucking stupid idea to implement on tumblr, and I hope that all the executives who decided to push for the idea get fired.

@staff @wip @changes @support this as a warning. no one on tumblr wants an algorithm. you can check the notes on your recent post, and it's all unanimous. people will leave this site en mass if you implement it.

you will not gain more users with an algorithm. anyone who would ever use tumblr has already jumped ship from twitter and reddit and tiktok. all those websites are currently failing because of poor executive decisions, and trying to make tumblr like them will be a death sentence. the only reason people join tumblr is because it isn't like every single social media website.

if new users wanted something similar to twitter, they'd join one of the dozens of twitter clones that will be shut down in a few weeks, like threads or bluesky or whatever the fuck they're called. people don't come here because they want twitter. people come here because they want tumblr. and an algorithm will fundamentally change and ruin what tumblr is

you will not gain users from an algorithm. but you will certainly lose them. it is a terrible decision that no one will like.

[lotties-ashwagandha]

the sun

hanako arasaka x bodyguard!reader, word count 2.3k

it’s always been a rule in your profession never to get too close to the arasakas, to stay silent in the pursuit of duty over sentiment — but after your promotion to being assigned the personal bodyguard to hanako, love takes priority over your safety.

written for @elaci , whose stench of pickles is unrivaled. tourney also made the written by vita borders I’ve been using and i love them

The unspoken rule of working for the Arasakas had always been to never get too close. Even those working in the family’s most private affairs understood it as the most important guideline – never become a source of intel, never acquire more knowledge of the family’s dealings than necessary to pick up a check. The Arasaka enterprise was run on money, and the sole way to survive close contact was to feed only on what was provided. 

After the death of Saburo Arasaka, armed security presence surrounding Yorinobu and Hanako Arasaka had increased dramatically, as well as on their sites of business. Tensions had been growing politically in Night City’s response to the death, the cause of the event becoming the newest subject of popular debate. 

You had used the chaos to your advantage – you had been working in security for the Arasakas before the assassination of Saburo, whose death had provided you with innumerable promotion opportunities that you welcomed eagerly as new recruits flooded common security jobs. 

Your loyalty to the company and your reputation throughout it as the best in your field had landed you in the dwelling of Hanako Arasaka. You’d been given the assignment of being her personal bodyguard. You would be responsible in the company of a rotating shift of guards to keep watch over her estate when Hanako was home, and if she left to venture into Night City, it was your responsibility to go with her and ensure her safety. It was a job that seemed relatively easy in your eyes, and the payout would be enough to motivate you to take as many bullets as you could for her and still live to see your money. 

Yet things became more complicated after a few months when you began staying with her after your shift — for dinner, cooked for you by Hanako’s chef, or when she confided in you her need for someone to talk to and you were unable to deny her the luxury of simple conversation. You were witness to Hanako’s most confidential business meetings, and you were the only person she could trust for council. You would share a drink together, and then too many to count, and you would get too drunk to remember most of what you confided in one another the next morning. Sometimes you made it home before then — sometimes you ended up in her bed, either from the consequence of mutual desire, or purely out of leisure and the more favorable prospect of staying with her than making the trip back to your shitty apartment while too drunk to hardly walk straight. Hanako didn’t expect anything from you, only your happiness in whatever way she could provide. 

In her bed is where you lay now, watching Hanako sort through messages on her phone beside you. Your guns and knives have been scattered strategically around the room, in the drawers of the bedside tables and on the dresser, but she doesn’t mind. She enjoys the protection you give and rewards it with luxury. She’s sober, and so are you. Through the months the two of you have grown out of the chaos of needing alcohol in order to find the courage to proclaim your love. This night is one of domesticity. 

A chill runs through you, and you pull the blankets up close. No matter the temperature outside in Night City, it always runs cold in the mansion. Sometimes it’s refreshing — now, it feels isolating. Hanako sits against the headboard unconcerned in her white silk robe. 

In a quick motion you sit up and snatch the phone from Hanako’s gold hands. She gives you a look of confusion, and prepares to speak in protest, but you silence her with a kiss. She lets you pull her down to lay with you — you can feel the tension releasing from her body as she’s given a moment to rest. She lays her head on your chest and snakes an arm around you. 

“You’re always working,” you say quietly. You reach over and set her phone on the bedside table. 

“You’re not,” she responds. Her tone is calm, tranquil, but you can tell she thinks she’s endlessly clever for the remark. 

You shake your head. “My shift is over, it’s late.” You can feel her skepticism, so you continue. “How do you know this isn’t me working? You’re safe, and I’m in close proximity. That’s all I’ve been assigned with.” 

She hums in response, accepting your answer in spite of its lack of credibility. Any other time she would have given you another testy quip, and her silence is evidence of her exhaustion. Her responsibility in the Arasaka enterprise has been overwhelming since the change in power. 

Hanako shifts to be able to look at you. Her expression is one of love, it’s reflected in her eyes as she takes you in. She moves to kiss you gently, her motions unhurried. She’ll use this against you later — she’s right, you aren’t working, but repercussions are off the table as long as you’re alone. 

Her phone chimes from the table, but the two of you are quick to ignore it. You feel pride in leaving Hanako’s phone unanswered, that she’s choosing you over her work. In a relationship with anyone else, it would be expected that work is set aside, but Hanako’s situation is painfully unique. It seems an inexplicably large win that you’ve conquered the necessity of the Arasaka companies, until Hanako’s phone starts ringing relentlessly and you know you’re doomed to spend the night in bed alone. 

Hanako sits up. She gives you a look of remorse before reaching over you for her phone. At once her expression changes as she checks the caller, becoming solemn. She moves off of you. 

“I have to take this,” she says softly. When she meets your eyes, you can see her regret. “I’m sorry.” 

You nod in understanding. You can’t help but feel neglect burrowing within you as you watch her hurry out of the bedroom to take the call. You wish she was still there beside you, within reach. The cold of the room catches your attention again, stronger than before.  

You sigh, letting your head sink into the pillows and your body deeper into the mattress. Hanako will be in her office taking the call for at least the next hour. Nothing can harm her as long as the night shift guards are stationed at the perimeter of the property. It bores you and dampens your mood to be without her, so you allow yourself to rest, drifting into sleep in the expensive luxury of the mansion. 

. . . .

Embers has never been your favorite excursion to make with Hanako. It’s where she hosts her most important meetings, the place is praised for the credibility of its security, but it’s also where you must be the most careful in hiding the nature of your relationship with Hanako. 

There are very few people who know of your relationship — the chef at her house, he’s known since the beginning, but after you threatened his life all concern you had about his reliability disappeared. You suspect some of the guards at Hanako’s house are aware as well. There have been too many nights of you staying over for them to suspect nothing. But outside of what’s necessary, you and Hanako take every measure to ensure that no one else working for the Arasakas finds out about the two of you — if they found out, the rest of Night City would find out. Hanako would be berated by the media, and you would be targeted by those who wish to eliminate her. 

Embers accentuates all of your concerns. Security cameras are at every corner, and guards are stationed around the building’s entrances. The exclusivity of the club is shoved in your face every time you arrive, it rings in your ears that only the richest and most prosperous of Night City are allowed here. You have no room for error. 

Hanako meets with a client at the bar. You watch from the entrance of the room. The client is a man, one you don’t particularly care for. He’s been involved in experimental tech for the Arasakas for years, but the knowledge doesn’t grant him any of your trust. 

You watch as he becomes looser with a few drinks. He’s still discussing business with Hanako, but more enthusiastically now, and subtle touches and looks imply that not all which occupies his mind is related to finance. Hanako doesn’t seem to notice. 

You’re unable and unauthorized to move as the man keeps flirting with her. Though you’d give anything to pull a gun on him, he poses no threat to Hanako’s safety. You have no move to make. 

You glance at the clock beside the bar. You watch as the seconds tick by, wishing at every turn of a minute that the meeting would finish and you would be able to go home. A sigh escapes you that you’re unable to keep in. Hanako spares you a glance from the bar that you’re unable to read, and when the meeting with the client is finished, she gives you no recognition before leaving and expecting you to follow her as ordered. 

The car ride home is quiet. You ride with Hanako for security. Every so often she gives you a look of expectation. You know she’s aware that you’re upset, but doesn’t know how to ask for what’s wrong. 

“He was a little touchy, wasn’t he?” You ask. The words are bitter on your tongue. “Useless.” 

“He’s giving me a lot of money,” she says simply. Even though you know much of her business workings, Hanako still attempts to keep them private unless asking for your advice. 

“You could get the money elsewhere,” you say. “All of these rich fucks are lining up to be associated with the Arasakas.” 

She shakes her head. “If you think you can do a better job at running my company—”

“No, you seem to do it better than anyone could. You hardly spend a second away from it.” 

Your tone leads her into a brief silence. She’s level headed, but she can’t hide the frustration growing within her. It makes her tense, and part of you wants to reach for her hand, apologize and praise her for her dedication to her work, but you stay firm in your resolve. 

“You know why it has to be this way,” Hanako says. “You know this can never go public. It shouldn’t even be happening.” 

You don’t respond. You know. You know, and it’s the worst part of it all. 

. . . .

When you wake up the next morning, it’s in your own apartment. Exhaustion plagues you, makes you feel sick. 

After your shift yesterday, you had hardly spoken to Hanako. The two of you had parted on terms less than ideal. You’re still disappointed, and you suspect she is too busy to be concerned with you. The thought makes anger swell in your chest. 

You wish you could take days off. Any breaks from your profession are few and far between due to your necessity. As you drive to work you think about how nice it would be, to be able to sleep in for once or go out to dinner on your own. You would have an excuse to be away from Hanako until your anger subsides. 

When you pull into the driveway, Hanako is already waiting for you outside of her estate. She stands with her arms crossed as she leans against the door of the backseat of her car, her driver already in the front. 

“You’re late,” she says as you step out of the car. You check the time. 

“I’m not.” 

Hanako smiles. Without another word she gets in the backseat of the car with the expectation that you get in on the other side. You oblige, though not without dread. You’d been wishing for a quiet morning. 

“Where are we going?” You ask. Hanako doesn’t respond. Annoyance comes over you in a rush. If she’s still pissed at you, you want her to voice it. 

You notice during the drive that Hanako is without her phone. If she has it, she isn’t on it at all. Her gaze is fixed out the window as you venture closer to the edge of Night City. 

After half an hour of driving, the car is parked before a giant glass dome — adrenaline runs through you as you realize where you are. 

“The botanical garden?” You ask. Hanako nods. You get out of the car and take a moment to examine it — the only botanical garden in Night City, and only for the rich. It’s an indoor botanical garden, there are hardly any natural ones anymore. It’s rare to be so close to this much innocent life collected in one place. 

You step into the botanical garden with Hanako. It's empty of people, she’s bought the place out for the day. Trees, vines, flowers, plants you could never have dreamed the appearance of crowd you and pull you deeper into the abyss. The sun shines in through the glass ceiling, and you close your eyes as you lift your face to it, letting yourself be touched by its warmth. 

You open your eyes at the feeling of Hanako taking your hands in her own. She stands before you, the same love in her eyes that makes you feel whole, adored completely and unendingly. 

“I want to spend more time with you,” she tells you. “I know it’s hard on you, that I can’t be there more. That this has to stay private.” 

You nod. You can’t find words in your amazement. 

“I love you,” Hanako says quietly. She gazes down at your hands together. 

You pull her into a kiss — a wordless confirmation of your love, yet it’s there all the same, in every breath you take and in every moment you spend in the joy of her embrace. The life around you breathes into you, promises you her time, her love, the prospect of a future. For once, you are able to let your guard down in her embrace — the sun is your guardian, and burns away shadows of harm in its wrath. 

[predakings-den]

Chapter 1: The Lab-grown Experiments

Word count: [1426]

Content Warning: [None]

He had revealed his form, a choice he believed wise in order to be taken seriously by these Decepticons. No longer is he stuck as a draconic being of metal and circuits, shrieking with his mandibles outstretched and large wings reeled back as a means to threaten. His new form is just as formidable, with a crown of horns protruding from his helm and a sharp, weary faceplate that made him come across as older than he felt. Predaking was met with surprised expressions from his superiors, crippling trepidation and dread from that pathetic Air Commander, and a sudden new sense of commitment as he realized the intention of this specific site.

Shockwave’s secondary laboratory, nestled in the caverns, now harbors the latest “pet project” as the others had liked to call it behind his back, or even in front of him, believing his intelligence to be that of a primitive creature. Predaking gazes upon the rows of test tubes decorating the underground lab in a hue of green lighting, with large cables connecting the tanks to a generator and a control panel where data is monitored, collected, and stored for Shockwave’s use.

Inside each containment chamber is a curled-up Predacon, growing and alive in their slumber. There’s a variety of what humans may recognize as mythical creatures thought to be in myths and legends. A plethora of beaks, wings, claws, and maws can be seen.

His large claws press gently against the warm glass. There was no outward response, but he could feel it, a pull on his EM field, albeit faint. The thought has crossed his processor every now and then when he was but a warhorse with no real designation. A question lingered: where were the rest of his people? And that knowledge has had the time to settle in his tanks like an endless pit. They were offline, decimated by either the radiation that had plagued Cybertron’s surface long ago in the Great Cataclysm where they starved underneath the shelter of dirt and rock, or driven mad stellar cycles ago.

Even now, these caverns strike a quiet unease with the Predacon, a fear of some sort or… Perhaps a memory from long ago, etched deep into the bones that Shockwave had cloned him from.

He could hardly believe such little beings, so vulnerable and exposed, can evolve to one of Cybertron’s greatest beasts of the past. How? They’re practically tiny bits of soft metal and exposed biolights, still developing their tough exterior.

He could be always be patient, until Shockwave's process is complete. He doesn't understand the exact science behind it, the cloning and accelerated growth procedure, but he trusted the Decepticon scientist to continue his work with the same chilling dedication.

"Would you like to feed them?"

Predaking perks up as he hears Shockwave's monotone vocalizer ending the silence between him and the Predacon pups. He takes a lingering glance at the science officer. "How so? Are they not sleeping?" It sure seems to be the case, as they have been quite unresponsive to the vast world around them. In Shockwave’s optic, Predaking taps the glass as if he were a youngling curious, although much larger in stature.

Shockwave walks over to a large crate of yellow vials. He hands him a few and Predaking cautiously sniffs. There appears to be no scent to this so-called meal that Shockwave is implying them to be. Regardless, the scientist continues droning on. "They absorb nutrients through the liquid they lie in, and every spark needs a certain amount to maintain a healthy core. It didn't take too long to develop a concoction similarly to the nutrients sparklings are provided naturally. All I needed were the correct ingredients, procured by those willing to aid in my research."

“I only considered the next logical step was to add… supplements of a sort. After all, I strive to improve in reference to previous works.”

Predaking chuffs and avoids his blaring optic. As if the ultimate being had imperfections. He is powerful in strength, his size indomitable, a Predacon in his prime and yet Shockwave finds flaws in his making?

He almost thinks to ask for the specifics, but Shockwave ignores his questions and leads him to the control panel, finding his personal inquiries asked to be of unimportance in the current moment or at any time really. "Now, insert five vials into these slots.”

The Predacon stares at the yellow vials, small in their little glass containers, so he feels fit to comment. “Five hardly seems enough for ten little ones.” And he nearly shrinks at the scientist’s stare. There is no emotion that can be read, but the feeling of… inadequacy stings at his spark for asking what the officer appears to see as menial queries.

Again, the scientist pays no mind to his observation and gestures to the control panel. “Each individual button is a labeled tank. The gray button is for fueling, the red is the release.”

Predaking follows along, inserting the vials, and then slowly presses the gray buttons with one large claw. In a few seconds, the green containment chambers turn a more vibrant yellow as nutrients start filtering inside.

The inhabitants do not move, but he understood that somehow, they are being properly cared and fed, even if it didn't seem as traditional as simply hunting and providing the meals for them.

And with feeding time underway, Predaking notices that many of the tanks do not have… names. Instead, there are numbers. It’s not entirely surprising when even Predaking had nothing, and sought to find him his own name. “Do they carry any designation? Like this one?” He gestures to a Predacon pup who is a mixture of yellow, teal, and purple, with two draconic helms and tails to match.

“#SW81617 is quite sufficient for the level of organization I require to properly assess Project Predacon. I do not plan on developing such a … familial connection with my experiments, that which I am starting to notice that you are starting to seek out. You yearn for something more than what I choose to provide.”

It renders the large Predacon quiet. Before anything more could be spoken between the two, the science officer gets a ping in his system. His red optic dims as he reads the short notification, Soundwave calling for his presence onboard the Nemesis warship. “It appears I have a meeting that I must tend to. I will reconvene with you later, but for now, you are granted a privilege of staying. Only, do not touch any of the mechanics until I arrive back onto the site.”

Shockwave could logically assume what this particular meeting could consist of. He wasn’t the only one who noticed how… fearful Megatron almost seemed, a mixture of that and shock, is not an acceptable state that their leader would approve being rendered to. Megatron has already shown his bouts of irrational, impulsive, and paranoid tendencies when confronted with something much grander than him… and the dangerous, chaotic beauty of Predacons is grand indeed.

Shockwave did not exhibit any signs of nervousness. His EM field of wall of cold indifference as usual. And Predaking didn’t question the sudden call away from the lab. Perhaps he should have at the time. Maybe it could have prevented… well, everything, but the Predacon who had only recently gained sentience did not yet know how to become a bit more astute in his observations.

Instead, he allows the officer to call for a ground bridge and thinks nothing of it. The large beast curls up next to the tanks, with a soft rumble sounding close to a yawn exiting his maw as he hunkers down for the evening.

He’s not that attached... he was simply curious at the prospect of new life, of not being alone anymore, of reviving his species once more. Everything… that was now his duty to protect and see through.

His moments spent in the lab were coming to an end though, and soon he’d be unable to look upon the tanks of Predacon pups as if he were stargazing at the brightest of constellations with such… completion in his spark. He would never have thought that displaying sentient thought and behavior would write their end, that despite any signs of loyalty towards the Decepticon cause, that Megatron was never going to allow them to simply exist.

It happened then, and it will once again.

Predacons cannot just exist…

A Cybertronian will not allow that to be the case, Decepticon or Autobot otherwise.

[enchantedflameandflower]

Glimmer 29/? Billy Butcher fic

Tag List: @2dead2function @secretdreamlandmentality

Chapter 1

Previous Chapter (28)

Notes: Thank you so much for reading! I did recently receive an anon ask and I'm excited to work on it (tho I know I am so slow!) Thank you!

_____

Chapter 29

It was well into the middle of the day before they could leave the site. Addison sat with her legs curled up in the backseat of Butcher’s car with the door open while he spoke with Mallory. 

When he finished, Addison noticed Mallory shoot her a concerned look as he walked back to her from across the parking lot, but to be honest Addison didn’t feel much of anything except exhaustion. She wasn’t scared of that piece of shit and he hadn’t really hurt her. Whatever knockout gas he’d used had done a fine job of keeping her loopy and out of it. 

“They won’t stop until they find the cunt,” Billy rumbled as he came up, leaning against the car door. “And she swore to call us as soon as she did.” 

Addison nodded, and finally took a deep breath. As much as she wanted to track the bastard down herself, she could hardly keep her eyes open except for the fact that she was still covered in soot and dirt and blood, sticky and gross.  

Billy let his gaze soften as he looked her over. “Don’t think it’s safe to go back to either of our places right now,” he said, rubbing at his jaw. 

“I’ll get a hotel room,” Addison replied, and she turned to her bag without waiting for him to answer. An agent had gone by her apartment earlier for her to grab clothes and her phone and a few other important things she didn’t want left there. 

Fuck the moral high ground, she thought as she plucked her cell from her bag. She’d use her black card to get a fucking suite on the top floor of one of those hotels uptown with as much security as the White House. They’d earned it. 

As Billy drove them across the city, Addison reserved a room on her phone, making sure it was a place where you could check in and get a digital key card on the app without having to talk to anyone at the front desk. When they pulled into the parking garage, she scrubbed at her face in the mirror on the sun visor then pulled a loose sweater on over her bloody tank top. With Billy’s duster and a pair of sunglasses added, she thought they could probably get through the lobby without being arrested. 

She was right and they made it inside. Her key code was needed not only to get into the elevator but to get to the floor their room was on as well and Addison gave a quiet sigh of relief. She needed to rest, and she could not bear it if anything else happened to Billy because of her. They double locked the door of the room with a deadbolt and the thick metal door guard. 

The room had a small sitting area and a huge bed, with a bathroom to the side. For a moment Addison stood there, not even able to think what she was supposed to do next. She tossed her bag on a chair then looked up to find Billy watching her. 

Once more, when she met his intense hazel eyes they were drawn to each other by something outside of themselves - or maybe by something deep, deep inside. Billy took one step forward and wrapped her up in his arms, pulling her hard against his broad chest. 

“I’m so sorry, Addi. I was such a prick, it was my fault…”

She shook her head against his shoulder, sliding her fingers into his hair and pulling back to look at him. “I wasn’t any better,” she murmured. “I’m not hurt but I shouldn’t have put you through that…”

“He’s after me, Addi, he’s using you to hurt me, I can’t…” his voice was thick and gruff. “I can’t let -“

Addison shook her head again, and pulled Billy to her. “Fuck him. We’ll get him.” 

“If something happens to you because of me I couldn’t live with myself, Addison, I won’t…” he broke off, his eyes dark and intense. “You’re better off -“

“Nothing’s going to happen to me. I’m here. I’m okay. I’m going to fucking kick that guy’s ass.”

Billy smirked, but Addison knew he was still struggling with the guilt. She could sense this was not something he was going to let drop but exhaustion was weighing her mind and her body down. “We’ll talk about it more later.”

Billy finally nodded and turned to kiss her temple again. “Let me start the shower for you, eh?” he murmured. 

Addison nodded gratefully. “You too. I need to patch you up after.”

He sighed, but didn’t argue. He knew just as well as she did that her cuts had long healed but his injuries would not. 

She pulled her sweater off and tossed it over a chair then threw the rest of her clothes in the trash in the bathroom. She felt disgusting and looked just as bad but it was Billy she was worried about. After he adjusted the shower spray, she watched him as he undressed, cataloguing every bruise and patch of raw red skin she could see and desperately wishing there was some way she could just make them disappear. 

Billy wasn’t bothered at all though. He held the shower door open for her and she stepped under the warm water, groaning in utter relief as everything immediately started to wash away. 

Billy stepped in behind her, reaching for one of the little hotel bottles of soap and pouring it into his palm before he started gently rubbing his hands over her body. He started at her shoulders, smoothing and kneading, then urged her to turn around. The grotesque, disfigured B was still visible above her heart, and he ran the tip of his thumb over the dried blood with dark eyes before he washed it away along with everything else. 

Addison closed her eyes, reveling in the feeling of the spray of water on her back and Billy’s touch washing away everything that had happened. He ran his soapy hands carefully over her breasts, then her stomach and her hips, before turning her around again to wash her back. Addison felt her body filling with warmth, her muscles relaxing one by one like magic as he took care of her. 

After he helped her wash her hair she twisted it into a knot on top of her head and turned to him. “My turn,” she murmured in a tone that brokered no discussion. 

She did the same for him, but was especially careful over each burn and cut she came across, not all of them new. She made a note to herself of which ones needed to be tended when they got out whether he liked it or not, she savored the bits of him that were unmarred, lines of hard muscle and firm skin, and she reverently stroked the scars left over from god knows what horrible things. 

The water was still warm when she finished, so she whispered “just a few more minutes” and Billy made a low noise of agreement in response. He sat on the wide tile bench in the shower and gathered in his lap and he held her there in the water until she started to fall asleep against his chest. 

Finally Billy reached out to turn off the water and they dried off with thick towels. Addison pulled on a clean oversized tank top but Billy didn’t bother with anything. “Bed,” she directed him and he did as he was told. She pulled her first aid kit out of her bag and started to dab a little salve on the worst of the burns, adding bandages to ones that needed it, but trying not to be overly attentive. 

“How did you get through the explosion?” she asked as she gently prodded at a patch of red skin on his arm, reaching for the burn gel again.

“When I saw the bomb I legged it for the back of the place but I knew I weren’t gonna make it out. Shut myself up in a walk-in freezer just in time and then I found a way out that weren’t totally in flames yet.”

She put her stuff away then reached up to slide her hand along his jaw. “Thank you for coming for me…” She had to let him know, she had to tell him what it meant for him to never give up the way he did. 

He nodded then moved her kit off the bed. “‘Nough playin’ doctor, sunshine. Ya need sleep.”  

He pushed the heavy blankets away and helped her lay down before pulling them back up and gathering her close. He nestled in close to her, slipping his arm around her waist and she wrapped her arms around him as he lay along side her settling with his head on her shoulder.

She thanked the universe over and over in her head that she still had him. After a moment she realized she could tell he was still thinking, not falling asleep.

“What are you doing?” she hummed, carding her fingers through his hair as he tightened his arm around her waist, his ear pressed to the flat of her chest. “Not that I’m complaining…”

“Listenin’ to your heartbeat,” he murmured gruffly. “Go to sleep.”

Addison smiled, closing her eyes, and she did the same, listening to his. 

They were woken up hours later by Billy’s phone ringing from the nightstand. He jerked awake, moving his free arm to reach for it before he’d even fully opened his eyes. 

“Yeah,” he answered, his voice hoarse. 

“We found him,” Mallory replied in her customary clipped tone. Billy sat up so fast from where they were tangled together on the bed Addison tumbled out of his arms.

“Who is it,” he growled. 

“It took some digging but we traced the phone to a company called Dynamite Consulting, which is a subsidiary of Atlas Group, owned by NovaStar. Which is owned by James Stillwell.”

“Stillwell? The fuck?!”

“Madelyn Stillwell’s brother.”

_____

Please let me know what you think of this chapter! Thanks!

Chapter 30

[pass1onepr1ncess]

Source Memories

I wanted to gather all my thoughts and find a place to put down everything that I remember about source, and I know people love headcanons posts on this site and this is kinda like that in a way so I figured "Why the hell not?" I would like to add that while these are from my memories of the events of Vento Aureo, some of them are also from my life afterwards. I don't have a ton of memories from after we all left Rome, but there's a couple. I stayed in Naples for about a year after that, but then I left and never saw any of them again, so.

Giorno

He was already pretty tall at 15. I think he was, like, 5"9'? I didn't know at the time, but now that I have extra knowledge I'm fairly sure it's because of the Dio/Jonathan genes. Those guys were fucking huge. I wouldn't be surprised if Giorno had grown up to be at least 6"0. However, I left Naples around the time we both turned 17 and he was about 5"11', so not quite. But again, I left and we were both still growing.

He wasn't white. He didn't have a whole lot of Japanese features from his mom, but his skin tone was one of them. He was more tanned than myself, which to be honest wasn't saying much but y'know. He wasn't the darkest either, though. In fact, he was still on the lighter side of the group.

His hair was extremely voluminous. And shiny. I think I only ever saw him take out his braid once, but oh my God. I think I asked him if he used a hair mask or something and he said no but that he used coconut oil, I think.

I don't think he was an actual vampire like his father, I don't think it was really genetic. Not in my source, anyway. But he did have a set of fucking canines on him. Also, he yawns like a cat. Narancia and I watched him do it once and saw his teeth and looked at each other because I don't think either of us had ever seen anyone with teeth closer to fangs than Giorno's.

He liked humming things. I don't really know what music he was thinking about or if it was even actual songs he was humming, but he hummed little tunes a lot. It wasn't very loud, and I could tell it was just to himself. He had a smooth humming voice, though. It made me wonder what he would sound like if he ever sang, but I never got the chance to hear that.

He was one of the few people in the group who didn't drink. Pretty sure Bruno offered him some wine once, but he turned it down and said that he didn't drink. That was the only thing he ever said about it, though.

Gay trans man. You could see his top surgery scars from the window in his shirt he always kept open.

Bruno

I don't think he had ever lived there, but you could tell by his physique and facial features that his family was extremely Greek. Also, Bruno was probably the palest out of all of us. He spent more time than the others in the turtle both to guard me and to keep out of the sun. And even when he went out, he put on sunscreen almost everytime he left. I never saw him get burned, but that could also just be because he was careful. Not sure if he really was prone to sunburn or if he was just overly-cautious. I wouldn't put it past him either way.

He was very strict. I didn't know any of them that much at all while I was with all of them, despite everything that happened. Bruno made sure that we were all aware that I was "The Mission" and that none of them were supposed to get close to me or get attached. He made sure I knew, as well. Told me not to talk to them too much so I wouldn't form a bond with them. However, things obviously changed after Venice. But by then, we hardly had time to talk at all. In the end, I didn't know Bruno that much before he died, but I could tell that he started to care about me despite being the one who insisted I was off-limits. I know the fandom likes the idea of him being an adoptive father to me, but to be honest he felt more like a protecticve older brother.

His eyes were a very dark blue that very much seemed almost black in the shadow. But when we were outside, you could tell that they were more of a deep cerulean.

He was hopelessly in love with Leone. Had absolutely no chance of hiding it even if he wanted to, and he didn't want to. He would look at her like Flynn Ryder looked at Rapunzel in the floating lights scene in Tangled. Leone wasn't fond of PDA, so they never actually even showed many signs of their relationship even with their own squad around. But you could tell from Bruno alone that they had something special. I remember before everything really got dangerous, seeing him look at her like that made me hope that I'd find someone like that someday.

That little black part of his suit wasn't lingerie. Not in my source, at least. The way it moved with his clothes made it clear that it wasn't a tattoo, either. It was just a part of his shirt.

His zippers didn't leave scars unless the parts he had unzipped were left unzipped for too long. The longer they were unzipped, the more prominent the scars were. I had/have (in headspace) the one on my wrist, and it's pretty prominent because 1) the zipping wasn't the original cause of the injury and 2) the zipper popped when he died and before Giorno brought him back. The scars they left behind were also zipper-shaped. Like the teeth, I mean.

He liked being near the ocean. I think the sound of it put him at ease and helped clear his mind or something, I'm not entirely sure. He just liked being by the water. It wasn't the same if we were more inland with rivers or something. He just seemed more relaxed when we were specifically by the sea. I didn't know why back then, but now I know that it must've reminded him of home.

Leone

Black transwoman. It was never my business what surgeries she had, but I know she was on HRT. She wore her hair in micro braids, and her roots were a much darker purple than her braids. I'm pretty sure her hair was naturally purple, but it was braided with yarn which is where that lavender color came from. She was the second darkest in the group.

She... didn't talk much. Much preferred her own company over anyone else's- except for Bruno, but she never liked to be too close with him while anyone else was in the room. If I didn't talk much with anyone else in the group, I hardly spoke to Leone at all. But even then, I think we both knew that amidst the group of almost all men, we both shared a bond since we were the only two girls. Since she didn't talk much and I wasn't allowed to talk, there were times where we would be listening to the boys' conversation and hear something strange and we would both look at each other from across the room in that gossipy sort of "Did you hear that, too?" kind of way. But, that was kind of the extent of my interactions with Leone. I'm sure if we were given the chance, we would've gotten along. She probably could've been a really cool older sister.

She really liked her wine. I don't think there was a moment at any point on the trip when she was with us that there wasn't at least one bottle of red wine among the group at least. She would sometimes send Mista or Narancia to get extra bottles when she was running low. Bruno said something at one point about her drinking on a mission, but she waved him off and reassured him that she'd be fine. She spaced her glasses out just enough that she wouldn't get drunk, so I can only assume she'd been used to drinking on the job and knew how to handle herself. She offered me a glass once. In any other circumstances I might've accepted, but I was too on-edge and paranoid then. I wanted to stay as alert as I could be, even before the whole San Giorgio Maggiore debacle. Bruno reprimanded her for offering it to me, though. Said that I was too young to drink. She said that he doesn't seem to mind Fugo, Mista, or Narancia drinking, and he replied with something about it being different with them. That I had a whole life ahead of me that didn't need to be tainted with alcohol. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I had already drank with my mother before.

I never left the turtle when we were in Sardinia. Bruno had instructed me to stay put and that they'd let me know when we were safely off the island. When everyone else came back, no one told me what had happened. Not specifically, just that they ran into some trouble. Hardly any of them even spoke to each other for the first few hours on the boat. But when we left without Leone and when I saw everyone's expressions, I knew. It was a weird feeling because I remember thinking to myself that I was grateful that Bruno had told me not to get attached. I was grateful I didn't know her, but I still felt sad. It definitely hit Bruno the hardest. Narancia was more outwardly expressive with his feelings, but I could tell Bruno was... I don't even know how to describe it. He just looked miserable, like someone had just ripped a piece of his soul from him. Giorno checked on me a couple times, I think we were in a similar boat (metaphorically speaking). He had only joined the squad for a little bit, so he also wasn't entirely close to Leone. He was the only one in a semi-stable frame of mind to be checking up on others. Mista just sat off to the side by himself, taking apart his pistol and putting it back together again over and over. The Sex Pistols were worried about him, but he ignored them until it was time to feed them.

Fugo

There's gonna be so little about him on this list because we hardly spoke at all before Venice and then he left and I never saw him again so... Idk.

He made it clear by his facial expressions that he did NOT like me. Like a mixture of anger and suspicion. I knew this even before reading PHF, but reading the book and getting his perspective on it made a lot of things make sense. He was suspicious because I didn't talk and was distant, especially considering I was related to The Boss. I understand, and I don't blame him. I kinda wish I could talk to him again and explain myself a bit, but I think Sheila E helped him understand my side a bit as well even thought I never met her. I'm sure the events of PHF did happen in my source, but I wasn't around to witness them. I left Naples before it all went down, I never saw Fugo again after Venice.

I think he had the same feelings towards me as he did towards Giorno. We were both New(TM) and I think he was both upset that his routine and daily life had been disrupted and changed and also just generally suspicious of us.

Out of everyone, he seemed closest to Leone. He obviously had a bond with Bruno, as did everyone else on the team, but he stuck around Leone like he was her clingy younger brother. She didn't seem to mind, which I was a bit surprised about given how she was. I'm sure she might've protested at some point, but I guess they had been teamed together long enough that she gave up trying to push him away and got used to it. They kinda looked like that "Excuse me, he asked for no pickles" meme lmao.

Mista

He was. Really creepy towards me. Not excessively so, like he wasn't being a weirdo in general he just. It was clear that the only other woman he had ever really actually hung out with was Leone and he didn't really know how to process that I had boobs or that I showed a lot of skin in my outfits. I know he didn't mean to be so weird about it, but it was enough that I have a permanent distaste for him. Like the time in the van when he was whispering (badly whispering, btw, I could hear every word) to Fugo about my boobs and I just kept looking out the window pretending I couldn't hear because I felt so awkward and gross about it. I kept wishing Leone would take her headphones off and smack him or something, anything to make him shut up. And then Bruno slammed on the brakes and Fugo went flying into my chest and gratefully he was normal about it and tried to apologize and I think he felt just as awkward and embarassed about it as I did- but then Mista had to make it even weirder for all of us! He just. I didn't like him and I still don't. Not all Mistas, just the one from my source. He makes me wildly uncomfortable and the fact that he was 18 while I was 15 makes it. I just try not to think about it!

He smelled, like, REALLY bad. He constantly smelled like sweat and onions but then he would douse himself in an UNGODLY amount of Calvin Klein cologne to cover it up like that was an acceptable replacement for a shower. But then the cologne was just too much and it smelled like chemicals. Also, those pants were real zebra leather. Do you have any idea how insane you have to be to wear actual leather pants in summer? In Italy?? In Naples????? We swapped bodies and I swear to God this man's legs were drenched with sweat and the leather would stick to the skin and it was a HORRID sensory experience. Not to mention the fact that he was also even weirder about him being in MY body.

The Sex Pistols were pretty cool, at least. They were fun to talk to. I'd give them snacks sometimes when Mista wasn't around because he didn't like them eating when it wasn't meal time.

I'm, like, 95% sure he did actually have OCD. It wasn't just the 4s thing, either. Sometimes he would have to spin the cylinder of his pistol a few times before it "felt right" so he could actually shoot. Or turning a doorknob multiple times before opening the door, or retracing his steps on the sidewalk before moving forward. I don't mean this in a bad way, I just genuinely think he had OCD and that's okay. If he did, it's not like it was his fault.

Pretty sure he was cishet. Or maybe not straight, but I'm fairly sure he was cis. But also, I didn't know much about any of them and could be absolutely wrong! Also he was some kind of latino but I never asked about specifics so that's all I know.

Narancia

Nara is the hardest to think about, I think. I've always thought that if we were given the chance to have known each other in any other context that we could've been really good friends. Maybe even more? I'm not even sure myself, to be honest, But I know I have strong feelings about him. He ignored Bruno's whole spiel about not getting attached to The Mission and would sneak into the turtle to hang out with me. It was fun. He kept me company, which was nice because I was so intensely bored. The guys didn't give me anything to do other than just sit around in the turtle, but I know even then that I was having a better time than they were, so I can't exactly complain.

He let me in on a decent chunk of the gang gossip. Not a whole lot, but he told me about Polpo and the arrow before it became a whole thing. He didn't know about the whole Requiem thing, but he knew the arrow gave people stands. It was how he got Aerosmith when he first joined the gang.

He was Indian, I'm pretty sure. and Genderfluid. I don't know what his sexuality was, but I think he may have had a crush on me? Like I said before, I don't know. There was, maybe the start of something between us that we didn't have enough time for. Too much going on at the time for that.

He had already seemed keen on wanting to befriend me even before we got to Venice, but he seemed to stick pretty close after we left the Church. I didn't know then about the "Trish is me" thing because I was unconscious for that, but it was clear that his motivations had changed from "I'm going to protect you because I was told to" to "I'm going to protect you because I understand you." He was almost always in arms length of me after that, like if he got too far he wouldn't be able to save me. Which is kinda funny considering that his stand was long distance, but it was sweet.

Given that he was the only one in the gang who had genuinely tried to form a connection with me despite the circumstances- and specifically the way it happened- his death hit me the hardest. He was going on about how he wanted to go back to school and all these things he wanted to do when we got back and then all of a sudden just. He was gone. I was homeschooled before my mother got sick, and I didn't really have any friends. Narancia was the first person who I felt somewhat close to, someone I could call a friend. And even though I knew him for a very short time, he impacted me in a way that only my mother had before. And yet, when he died, I couldn't cry. I was too scared and on edge and Aware that Diavolo was nearby. But a few months later when Giorno and Mista helped to set up a funeral, when I saw how empty the church was and how Mista and Giorno were the only ones there, I broke down. He was right, we were extremely similar. Just like me, he lost the people who cared about him and was betrayed by people he thought he could trust. And he was so bright, despite it all. Even though he had been hurt, he still carried a smile and tried to make his friends laugh. He didn't let his pain dampen his positivity, and he was hopeful to the very end. And the fact that he was the one in a casket when I hadn't done anything to deserve my seat at his service, the fact that he died protecting someone who probably didn't deserve it. I couldn't take it. I don't think that way anymore, and I'll forever be grateful to him for what he did for me. Both in protecting me and being my friend. I try to stay positive and keep my head up because it's what I think he would do. That way, he never truly dies.

I tried to look up what kind of flowers Giorno grew over hia body in canon, but I couldn't find anything that quite matched how they're drawn. But at least in my memories, they were pumpkin blossoms.

Anyway, here's your little reminder that my asks are open if anyone wants to talk about source. I'll answer any question as long as it's not weird or creepy.

[ryuseibutgayer]

Yamagishi hurt/comfort maybe 👀,treating his wounds and comforting him after he got bullied or something.

ALSO CAN I BE 🦈 ANON

Hiii! YES YOU CAN ABSOLUTELY BE THE 🦈 ANON! <3 Thank you for stopping by with an asssssk ah! I'm sorry for the late reply 😭 I hardly check this site too much anymore but I'm glad you requested :D I'm so happy to write this for you! I hope this scratches the Yamagishi itch. moment of silence for lacking Mizo Middle content 😔

I'm a little out of practice, so my apologies in advance if this isn't what you'd hoped for

TW: RIP Yamagishi's Left Eye and Cheekbone, Mentions of Bullying, Swearing, and not much else it's just comforting fluffy fluff fluff fluff (also I felt the need to mention a warning for studying for any students who've got shit coming up 🫡 we've all got our own associations with school lmao)

Summary: G/N reader finds Yamagishi after school beat up after a great session of being bullied by the usual delinquents, helps him patch up, and tries to coax him to try and focus more on his goals than status.(Reader, I'm forcing you to walk home from school. You have Yamagishi to accompany you, though :>)

Word Count: ......fuck off

ꜰᴜᴄᴋ ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴍᴏɴᴇʏ

As per usual, your feet were as tired as your brain. You'd made it to the final minute of your last period, thankfully. And again, as usual, the hallway chaos was to ensure, but you were ready for it because you could walk with your boyfriend to his place for your normal Friday hang-out. Being with your boyfriend Yamagishi after the last hard day of the week was refreshing in its own way, because you were able to soak up the energy you gained from just being around him. He was really a funny kind of partner, but he radiated joy with you nonetheless.

You survived the rush of the halls again this afternoon, so be prepared to see them again next week.

No more schedule, just plain plans. You didn't need to plan much necessarily, either- just deciding whether or not you wanna go out is simple when you live near your boyfriend and friends. After this week, your ears canceled out the sounds of all the screaming kids around you flooding your space and just focused on the low tmp tmp tmps of your shoes. The noise was the only thing you could focus on, and your footsteps followed through with the lead. Tmp tmp tmp tmp tmp until the pavement turned to white, from the school grounds to the sidewalk...to the shoes of your boyfriend.

He shuffled his feet nervously as your eyes traveled up his form to see an anxiously whistling Yamagishi with a bruised face, black eye, and sheepish hands held behind his back. You sighed as he leaned towards your approaching figure, his glasses slid down his nose a bit like the normally do."Heh heh heyy, babe," he greeted and pushed his glasses back up his nose- which you grumpily clamped your hand onto the next second.

"OW!"

Your disappointment was as low as Yamagishi's knees as they leveled with the ledge of the toilet seat in his bathroom, home. "Really, Yamagishi?" You couldn't help but mutter as you bent to reach into the sink cupboards, obtaining his special health kit.

"Come on, don't tell me you're mad," Yamagishi pitched after hearing your mumbles. He DID recognize how bad you feel everything he gets roughed up for being around the wrong delinquents, and he felt a sort if shame he shouldn't. "I'm not mad at you Yama, I'm mad at those fuckin jerks." The thought of those assholes tumbled around your noodle while you wrung out a hot wet rag to clean up his face. "Didn't I tell you to try and keep away from them?"

"I did! I really did try my best y/n, but they're everywhere now," he felt the need to defend himself in the sense of a kid trying to make excuses to their parent. He continued his grumbling- "Those jackets aren't easy to spot 24/7, I've got glasses, cut me some slack..."

"What'd they beat you up for this time?"

"They just wanted some money 'cause they used up their allowances." His head hung a bit low as he recalled why he'd been attacked earlier, which prompted you to raise your hand below his chin.

"Fuck their daddy's money." Who wouldn't spout that on instinct? They fucked up your boy. >:[Your boyfriend couldn't help but snort at the sudden comment and then whince at the solution you'd begun to press against his torn skin. "I mean, it's better than my money."

"Of course," you began to dab the surface of his bruises and scabs on his cheek with ointment before you'd bandage them and snatch a nearby ice-pack to put on the worse side of his face- the one with the black eye. "But I'm extra pissy that they had the audacity to give you that nasty jump the day you had your placement test."

"Riiiight, that test," And all of a sudden, your boyfriend went silent with his bottom lip tucked.

"...........Yama."

"Yyyyyyeeees?"

"....Don't tell me you didn't-"

And then, he caved. "AW CMON! I got beat up and can't even worm my way out of a test? Those guys were real pricks to me, it knocked me down a few notches babe."You could really only sigh and bite your lip as you patched the final scratch. You looked him in his cognac eyes, chewed your cheek and gently patted the last bandage that had been placed on his face.

"I know, and if anyone blames you- even if you blame you for this happening, I'll kick their ass," You felt the need to be aggressively reassuring. "Hey, the next time this happens, I'm gonna bring some friends of mine to deal with them, I'm gonna kiss all of your bruises, just like THIS-" You said with each peck you laid on Yamagishi's cool, bruised cranium, earning a giggle from your boyfriend with each tickle of your lips. "-Take you by the hand to a café at the library, buy us some coffee, and we'll charge right inside to go study. You need to make sure you call me the exact moment when of those shitheads lays their eyes on you, otherwise I can't help you. I wanna be with you in one piece, yknow?"

With your warm smile and bold statements, Yamagishi felt pink flutter to coat over his dark purple and red face, because you weren't someone who called him weak or unmotivated- you supported and showed your love for him, and don't forget even for second how much he takes this to heart.

"....Yeah, I gotcha. I'll try and keep more mind on avoiding them next time, hon." And just like that, your grinning boyfriend was as cheeky as normal- just the way he should be.

"Sorry if you got worried for a little bit there- how about we go cuddle?"

"Mmm, how about study with blankets?" Yamagishi sighed, but he couldn't help smiling. "Sure," he stood up from the seat and took your hand. "Let's go, I'll grab the snacks."

"Yeah alright- and nice try Mr., but you're definitely going to be making up for that text next week."

"Yeah yeah..."

[neyliaart]

Its 2am, my ass isnt sleeping but my brain is remembering the day the Owl House Season 2 'Hollow Mind' first dropped

And im not deep into tumblrs takes on Belos. But I was deep in the instagram Belos takes and I remember vividly a lot of people being disappointed by the episode because it made Belos a "bad guy just for the sake of being bad"

And, to each their own, but that is likely the owl house take I have most hardly disagreed with ever in my life?

And dont get me wrong either. Ill love a shitty guy with a shitty tragic past as much as the next person. Hell if you see any of the guys I obsess about you know I fucking love those with my entire exsistence. And they were fairly popular and happened a lot more at the time as far as I recall so I got why people were expecting that, so was I. So I also kind of got why people were disappointed. But to call him "evil for the sake of evil" just never sat right with me.

And now.

Today

At 2am.

I put some words as to why that is together.

That man is a story about Internalized beliefs you grew up with. And I think the reading comprehension on this site is good enough but Ill reiterate anyway. My guy, grew up in the 1600s roughly. He was but an orphan boy in a community of people that may have not agreed on everything, but they all knew one thing. This certain group of people is evil. In this case witches. And being a little orphan boy with only these people and his brother to teach the world to him of course he believed it. What else should he have believed?

Its the same way you believe the sky is blue.

And its happening. Certain types of people are demonized. Be that queers for one example or others, use as you will there is no shortage of demonized priorities and if you grow up in an environment that adapts that you will believe that.

Belos was never evil for the sake of being evil, he was evil because he thought he was doing good. (Once at least Theres a whole debate i could get into wether he actually still believes that or just refuses to change his viewpoints now because lets be honest he killed his own brother for this shit. Admitting he was wrong now after killing the only person he was probably ever close to? Yeesh would that suck. But moving on.)

And its so easy to blindly do wrong when you think you're doing good because there was never a questions of "are witches actually evil?" of course they are. The alternative was to think everyone he ever knew was just, wrong or lying on purpose. Which isnt the kind of thing thats easy to digest, ever, that your whole worldy belief is a gaint hoax.

But its important that you do it anyway! Even if its hard and confusing and it honestly sucks! You need to be open to having your Perspektive changed even on the things that seem most natural to you because everyone around you thinks the same.

And I will die on the hill that there is a giant lesson to be learnt from belos as a character. Propably more than one tbh but again. Its late. Im tired. Bye.

[fictioninmyblood]

Between Twilight

Summary: Y/N breaks up with her ex a few weeks prior to halloween and the day of the dead. She takes a vow of celibacy, but little does she know, a dead ex has bargained his way out of hell for one last night with her. He didn’t come back to become her angel, just emerged from the shadows to drink her light for a last time and hopefully turn out her halo. She prays for a guardian angel but her gift is a territorial demon.

A/N: Literally been writing this all Halloween night into today, the Day of the Dead, hardly proofread.

A/N: Mature 18+, consume at your own risk.

A/N: Also, idk if this needs to be said, but I mostly only write for my demographic - black females. This has been my disclaimer/notice.

A/N: My work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than this) without my explicit consent and recognition.

Y/N was tired of leaving her house. It seemed with the upcoming season of mischief and eclipse season starting that the world and those around her, or even once had the privilege to be around her, was causing all types of discord in her life.

Her job that was barely paying her enough to even be able to afford to take public transit there cut her hours, again. They also sent more merchandise to the store than there was space both on the floor and in the receiving backroom so everybody was stressed all the time. Not to mention her, one of her supervisors has been handsier than usual and when she brought it up everyone including management dismissed her. 

To make matters worse, her toxic ass ex has been popping up either at the beginning or the end of her shift, standing around just watching her from the display tables or even from his car outside. For what reason? She doesn’t know since she was under the impression they were done and that was that. He was the one that constantly berated her for ever having any emotional reaction to anything. Nothing she did was ever good enough and he always demanded she keep changing herself despite convincing her she was ‘everything he had been praying for’ when they first met. So imagine her shock when after months of no contact, he started popping up. She tried to dismiss it at first as simply an inevitable crossing of paths in a small town, but now she was just always on edge.

The exhaustion didn’t just come from the chaos of her days, but also the restlessness of her nights. Since ending her relationship, she’d taken a vow of celibacy that she thought would solve all her problems, but it seemed to be creating more. No matter how many times she made herself cum, she was always dissatisfied far more than any mediocre sex she’d had with any man that left her with not one release. It was frustrating and it turned her yearning for a satisfying orgasm up to a million especially when her best sexually satisfying partner was haunting her dreams. Young. A fuckboy of a man, who gave her the run around, dragging her heart behind him as bait. A man of few words and exploding passion, who was a selfish bastard unless he was pleasuring a woman. The one man that opened her to the depths her pleasure could take her. And she really could only call it a haunting since he’d died just over a year prior.

Little did she know, he hadn’t forgotten her either, even in death. In fact he’d used this time of profound alignment to bargain his way out of hell for just one more night with her. Prepared her mind by showing her just how he’d make up for lost time.

Two days before Halloween he scared her ex into an asylum, making it clear that the man would pay exponentially if he ever stalked Y/N again. The night before Halloween he convinced her supervisor to turn himself in to the police not just for the harassment, but also for every rape he actually committed. Imagine her surprise when she walked into work Halloween morning to find the police questioning the staff and was allowed to go home afterwards being told the business would be closed until the investigation was over. Seems management looked the other way because some of them were in on it.

She was ecstatic. Unlike her coworkers who had big Halloween plans to prepare for, she was going home to snuggle into the softness of her sheets with a full belly and a book, just the kind of night she’d been craving to revel in for months. She could stress over being jobless tomorrow. Y/N showed herself some love with a hot shower and an even hotter bath followed by a good rubdown with her homemade shea butter. She put on her best negligee and her fuzziest socks. After making a healthy heaping of pasta and bringing along a large glass of wine, Y/N plopped onto her comfy couch wrapped in her plush blankets, put on a familiar movie in her background and posted up with her latest steamy romance novel.

The movie she’d put on was rolling the end credits when she woke up with drool hanging from her mouth and her book slumped on her chest. The sun had just set leaving an orange hue on the clouds as the blue of the sky darkened which pulled her in for a few minutes. This is what she loved about living, what she wished she could have more time to admire. The moments when creation showed off just a little and revealed just how magical life was if you only knew where to look. Over the years she’d given up hope that she’d find someone to share the wonder her eyes found in everyday moments, now content to keep the wonder for herself.

She put the kettle on as she cleaned up the dishes of dinner and pulled out a few cookies to go with her tea. On her way to her bedroom she turned out the kitchen light and scooped up the book, failing to notice the visitor watching her from the shadow cloaked reading nook in the corner of her apartment. Nor did she see him follow her into the room and perch himself on her ottoman as she placed her tea and cookies on her nightstand and removed her socks to get comfortable under her covers.

The man spoke before she could sit, “It’s just like you to be a perfect balance of soft and sinfully sexy,” startling her to the floor. He quirked his head and added, “and just as clumsy as ever. Has nothing about you changed?”

Y/N stared up from the floor trying to process her unwelcome visitor and the words coming out his mouth.

“Young? Is that you?” she asked shakily.

He got up from his seat, seeming to tower over her in a way he never had before, practically stretching the material of his shirt and pants at his shoulders and thighs. If she didn’t know better, she would say he’d found a gym in the afterlife and gone beast mode. He looked better than ever in a fitted black T-shirt, painted black pants, his locs fresh and braided back, and a simple gold chain to match the vampiric golds in his mouth.

“I go by Blood now, but yeah babygirl, it's me, in the flesh. In a manner of speaking.”

“Young S-,” he pinned Y/N with an icy glare, daring her to speak his full name, especially his middle one, “-Blood.”

“If you’d like to keep that pretty voice of yours, I suggest you call me by last name now. Just my last name.”

“Boy, I ain’t use no nicknames when we were together and I damn sure am not going to start now.” Y/N glared back at him, not one to back down from a challenge, “Young.”

Blood clapped his hands together and smiled with a sinful glee. “There she is! I thought she’d been killed off from dealing with the dusty ass niggas you’ve been entertaining in my absence.”

Y/N scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

Blood gripped her up by her throat, gently tugging her into a standing position. “Just because I welcome your claws coming out again, doesn’t mean I won’t take pleasure in clipping them back down.”

Maintaining eye contact, Y/N grabbed ahold of his balls squeezing and rolling them around her hand just a tad too aggressively. “Don’t forget I’m just as capable of clipping yours.”

Blood tightened his grip on her throat and leaned close to her face so that their breaths mingled together and she could easily see the red of his eyes. “Don’t test me little one, I’m not the man you once knew and I am having trouble not tearing you apart as it is.”

A little frightened and turned on by his obvious transformation and statement, Y/N released her grip on his balls, laying her hands against his chest, swallowing thickly as she nodded her head and hummed her assent. A hum that quickly turned into a moan when Blood ran a lone thumb whose nail grew to a sharp point along her breastbone and down her negligee, ripping it open and drawing the slightest bit of blood. Her moans grew louder when he let the rough flat of his tongue lick up the thin line and latch onto her nearby waiting nipple.

Her flat hands gripped the back of his neck as he continued to lave at both her breasts, bringing their nipples to diamond points, every so often nibbling on them and even nicking her areolas to suck on a little of her blood there too. He groaned at the feel and taste of her, relieved to finally have her back in his hands and mouth, satisfied to finally taste the one part of her that was new to him.

Blood released her for a few moments easing her to a lying position on the bed, savoring her glazed over eyes, the quick rise and fall of her chest, and the tight nipples resting in the center of her chocolate areolas. “I still remember the smell and taste of your orgasms, but for the life of me I can’t remember what you sound like mamas, all the different noises you’re capable of making.”

Y/N cracked her eyes at him, astonished by the pleasure coursing through her veins despite the little attention he’d shown her body.

“Let’s remember together just how many noises I can get you to make, huh?”

Before she could register his words, Blood had her in the center of the bed with her knees almost hugging her ears. He dove in face first, making sure to wipe his face in the juices she already had pooling out of her. He looked down at her pussy in awe. “See lil mama? I ain’t even done nothing yet and she’s already gushing for me.” Y/N started moaning when he gave her lower lips a french kiss and was unable to keep quiet the rest of the night.

After Blood tongued her down like he was scared he was going to lose his tongue he added two fingers to her clenching hole. “See Y/N/N, I told you this pretty pussy missed me. Look at how she’s sucking in my fingers, like a starved little thing. You ain’t been feeding her properly?” All Y/N could do was make incoherent noises, quickly sinking into the tsunami of pleasure that only Young could plunge her into. “That’s okay, imma give her a full course meal,” Blood said as he added two more fingers and found her g-spot, rubbing against it in a come hither motion.

Y/N’s moans quieted and her mouth dropped open with a silent O as she squirted all over Blood’s face, chest, and forearms.

Blood quickly removed his fingers and used both hands to hold Y/N’s legs open as he latched his mouth over her whole pussy, lazily rolling his tongue through her folds as her orgasm seemed to keep going. He drank all that she had to give and when it seemed her faucet had no more, he started over making her orgasms bleed into one another. Blood played in and ate her pussy for what felt like forever. When she became too over sensitive and started to try and push him away, still he ate. Even when she resorted to harsh bucking and beating his shoulders with weakened blows, still he ate. He kept going until she was pliant and too weak to fight back and only then did he give her a reprieve.

A very short reprieve since he was naked with only a literal snap of his fingers. She had just mustered the strength to peel her eyes open when he rested between her legs allowing his dick to sit snugly between her folds.

Blood flashed her his signature cocky smirk, “Hey there stranger.”

Filled with a level of shyness only he could curate, Y/N squeaked out a meek “Hi” in response.

“Now I know that cute ass ain’t getting shy on me now?” He leaned in to give her a long wet kiss. “Not after I got you so open again?” He gave her another, shorter, wet kiss.

Blood pulled his hips back until the tip was nestled in Y/N’s entrance. “Huh, lil mama?” Looking down at her pretty face and glistening pussy, he started to nudge her opening, not slipping in, but teasing her with the promise of what that pressure would turn into.

Y/N shook her head and grunted, “uh uh.”

“Now you know I like it when you speak up for me Y/N, speak up mamas.”

Y/N let out a weak groan, but that was nowhere near what Blood wanted from her so he pushed the tip in dragging a deep chorus of whines from them both. Blood let his head fall back as he savored their joining. “Fuck. I knew this pussy would be worth the trip back.”

Y/N let out a weak, “please.”

Blood’s eyes snapped back to her body with bloodlust coating his eyes.

“That’s right, beg.”

He grabbed ahold of both her thighs as anchors and pushed all the way in to the hilt. Y/N was back to being his fuck doll and the only thought that she could muster was I hope this isn’t a dream because I don’t wanna wake up.

Knowing just how his babygirl liked to be filled he stayed right where he was, circling his hips in a grinding motion, doing his best to not let even a centimeter of his dick leave her precious pussy. He started out slow and soft but it didn't take long for him to get to heavily pushing his dick into her cervix, practically marking her from the inside out.

What started out as whines quickly grew to full chested sobs as Blood came in her and kept going, seeming to keep getting harder the more he came in her. To try and quiet the feral beast that would never be satisfied as well as hide his new companion from his old lover, Blood bit her neck where it joined with her shoulder. He made sure she’d have a giant hickey in the morning and laved at the little blood that escaped from the tiny wound.

Unable to keep him at bay and determined not to stop, Blood flipped Y/N over on her stomach and lifted her ass in the air. Giving her a few very ungentle spankings to both cheeks, Blood plunged back into her with no precedent eliciting a mangled groan from the limp woman beneath him.

Dissatisfied with hearing her moans muffled, Blood pulled her up by her throat holding her back to his chest as he fucked her like he’d never fuck again. She was well and truly his fuckdoll at this point, no energy to stop him or tell him to stop, at the mercy of his unforgiving pleasure, unable to stop the animalistic noises he pulled from her.

He punctuated each thrust with his words, “such a good little one, so perfect, perfect pussy, perfect fucking body, the sweetest taste, the most devine smell, the most delectable noises.” Y/N let out a half scream at the last thrust that he seemed to put some of his supernatural strength into.

“That’s it mama, scream for me.” Y/N came hard, her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she slumped, suddenly passed out from the pleasure.

Blood released his tight hold on her, but refused to pull out, still hard enough to cut steel. After he eased her to the bed, softly stroking the side of her face and neck as he whispered his version of sweet nothings in her ear.

“Come back to me babygirl. I’ve missed you so much and I’ve only got so much time to appreciate you and your body before I go back. Open those pretty eyes and give me one of those glares huh? Come cuss me out before I make you cuss in contentment.”

Y/N groaned and slowly blinked her eyes open, coming back down to Earth like molasses.

“That’s a good lil mama. Now I need you to work with me so we can get one more good nut out before I have to go.”

Y/N whined and squirmed in his grasp, too scared of what more pleasure would do to her.

“Uh uh, we not done yet Y/N/N,” Blood smacked her ass, “behave.”

Y/N groaned but stilled her wiggling. Still pliant, Blood was easily able to get Y/N on her back again and position her legs around him so that they were in missionary without ever removing himself from her snatch.

Y/N looked up into the eyes of the man that was now something more and weakly groaned out, “I still hate you.”

Blood gave her a devilish smirk and replied, “I know lil mama, but that means you also still love me. Ain’t that right?” He quirked his head at her, regarding her fucked out form.

Y/N turned her head away.

Blood took each of her wrists in his hands, pinning them to the side of her head and started moving again, beginning with slow and deliberate strokes. “Look at me.”

Y/N’s body was back in tune with his but now that she’d had more than a few moments her mind wasn’t anymore so she kept her head turned away as he worked for every reaction he got out of her. Every hitch of her breath and scrunch of her brows, every pout of her lips was his to keep, but it was the love he knew would be in her eyes that Blood craved.

He pulled her arms up so he could grasp both wrists in one hand and her face in the other, but when he turned her, she closed her eyes, still unwilling to give in.

“Fine. Be that way, but keep them hands right there.”

Blood moved his hands to the crook of her knees, pushing her legs back as far as they’d go, and kept his same slow and deliberate strokes, but added more pressure behind each one. Hitting her walls harder and harder with each thrust, careful to keep all the sperm he’d dispensed thus far firmly in her pussy.

When he hit a particularly sensitive spot, her hands moved down to his chest and her eyes popped open in shock. Now that they were locked, she couldn’t look away from his burning red gaze as he marked her womb with all that he was. He couldn't even be mad she disobeyed him since he got what he wanted with the bonus of having her on his skin.

Cupping her ass cheeks in each hand he drove into her over and over, refusing to let her break his gaze. Just when she thought she could take no more he spilled into her as her most powerful orgasm consumed her from toe to head.

Blood put his lips to her ear and whispered as they came together, “Whenever you’re missing me again, come look for me on auspicious nights between twilight.” He tongued her down as the blue of the sky signaled the awakening of morning and just as her eyes closed from the overwhelming pleasure he whispered out, “Happy Day of the Dead. Say hi to your grandmother for me.”

—---

Y/N awoke the next morning right where he left her the night before, unsure if what she had experienced was real. Just when she started to rationalize it as the most powerful haunting dream she’d had yet, she rolled out of bed and walked to her mirror. Each step made her focus on the various sore spots he’d left for her to feel over the next week and every minute in front of the mirror revealed a map of love bites and scratches that was his signature.

She guessed she could indeed find him…

…between twilight.

[essentialthyme]

This may be a dumb question, but which fan subber should I try to go for in watching Girls Band Cry?

Here are the ones I know of:

[NakayubiSubs]: I feel like they deliver the most natural dialogue, and I do think the jokes just hit better, but keep in mind that they do subs to release day one, so you'll have simple subs, no translation for the songs. It's a very small price to pay, in my opinion, for good subs that fall in line with the official one.

[SobsPlease]: Has amazing stylistic subs and they do have translation for all the OP and ED, and all of the songs. The problem is that they take liberties with their translation to fit their interpretation or what they "think would be better for the audience" and after watching with different subs, I found the dialogue stilted and weird at times.

Official English translation: Released for Indonesia by Toei themselves, you can find it by searching [ToeiPls] on the torrenting website. People say it's also stiff, so you won't get any natural dialogue here, either.

So, what do I recommend? If you're torrenting, get the two first episodes from SobsPlease as Nakayubi hasn't subbed those, and the rest from Nakayubi. That way, you can enjoy the fun subs for the OP and ED, and you'll get a feel for the styles and see what's your preference. If you're streaming, you don't have to worry about that, but the streaming site I use mostly uses Nakayubi as well.

Avoid [le même] and any mtl: those are machine translated and hardly make any sense.

If you need links for the torrenting or the streaming website, message me as sharing those publicly increase the chance of them being taken down.

[all-things-ghostly]

Just One Touch - Skull x Reader Lockwood & Co.

I’ve been in this fandom for nearly a year and for the entirety of it I’ve been obsessed with this little green asshole. And honestly I’m flabbergasted that I haven’t been able to find ANY x reader fics of Skull on any site. Maybe this just says something about me lmao. But in case there’s any other ghost lovers out there, this one’s for us 🫡 I got some inspiration from Elemental :)

The very idea of it screamed forbidden.

Skull knew you could never love him. You were a mortal, and he was a ghost. No one has ever heard of such a thing, and if they did, they’d probably be crowding at the door with pitchforks the next day. He had little hope that you would be into to the idea of such a relationship either.

And frankly? He wasn’t quite sure why he liked you himself. He typically hated people like you. The sweet and loving type; the type of person that would go out of their way to make others happy. He's never quite understood the concept of looking out for anyone other than yourself. To him, such kindness was a weakness that would surely get you killed at some point.

Maybe it was the fact that you were a Listener, like Lucy. A good one, too. The two of you were the only people who could communicate with him, so I suppose he’s bound to form at least some kind of bond with you at one point or another. But… no, it went beyond just that. If that were the case, he would’ve just fallen for Lucy. There was something… different about you.

He thinks it’s the way you treat him like no one else does. Shockingly, you seem to decently respect the guy. Everyone else throws insults in his face (although, to be fair, he starts it), never truly trusts him, looks down on him for being a ghost, and in the case of George, hardly cares about his wellbeing… but you were always nice to him. He would’ve found it annoying, he should’ve found it annoying, but he can’t. Skull loves the way to talk to him like an equal. Most nights, his jar will be safely tucked away on top of your nightstand, so he can talk with you long into the night. The two of you could talk about anything—your life, his life, any struggles you’re going through, the awesome movie you just watched. And, you’re shocked to find that the ghost actually has quite a bit of wisdom to him, considering his usual snark. He will put in an effort to comfort you with his words when it’s needed. It’s a side to him only you know.

You had grown deeply attached to one another in the couple of years that you knew each other. Even if you liked to admit it much more than he did. Although, he didn’t really need to admit it… you knew that old ghost cared about you. Lucy did, too. She heard the way Skull’s voice grew warmer whenever he spoke to you. She noticed how he rarely ever said anything remotely cruel or snarky to you. She saw his face soften up whenever he watched you walk by, those green eyes of his staring with a sad and deep longing for you. Lucy could tell that the little ghost was pining for you, and boy, did she tease him BAD for it.

But… he never got to tell you.

He was going to. At some point, anyways. But unfortunately the explosion at Fittes got to him first.

Of course, you were the one who grieved the most after this. There had been no response from him for nearly two weeks. Every day you clutched the burnt skull close to your chest, hoping to feel anything, anything at all… it broke your heart to even look at it. The bone had turned brown and black from char, and it had a large crack running up the right eye socket all the way down the back of the head. The other socket had melted in a way that created a sad and droopy appearance.

Skull thought he would be ready to move on after this. He really did. But every time he felt his soul slipping away, he stopped himself. It wasn’t that he feared death anymore, no—if that were the case, he wouldn’t have sacrificed himself to save the rest of you in the first place. This time, he felt he had some unfinished business.

It took him so long, much longer than he would’ve liked, but eventually he gathered the energy to connect back with his injured Source and return to the mortal world. Of course, he was right by your bedside, as usual. It warmed him to see how you’ve been taking such meticulous care of his skull ever since the incident. And then, when his eyes fell on you, the heartache started up all over again. The confusing mixture of love, passion, and pain.

“Y/n?” Skull whispered, struggling to fight back a mess of emotions swirling up inside of him. He wanted so badly to reach out and wrap you in his embrace. The ghost was so caught up in his emotions that he didn’t even realize he was free until now; the jar was gone, which means he was no longer bound.

You were in a similar state of shock upon seeing him, and stood up from your bed with tears forming in your eyes.

“Skull…?”

In front of you was something you never thought you’d see: a young ghost, similar in age to you, gazing at you with the most caring eyes you’ve ever seen. His skin was a lime green that glowed slightly in the darkness of the room. He wore a white dress shirt that tucked into his dark gray pants, which were held up with matching suspenders. His hair was a slightly darker shade of green than the rest of him, and although it was messy, it looked absolutely adorable on him. You have to admit, he’s one handsome ghost.

The more you looked at him and let the situation sink in, you realized that the urge to hug him was just as strong for you, too. But unlike him, you didn’t hold back. You stepped towards him with your arms spread out, more than willing to take the leap and finally hold the ghost you grew to love.

Skull, however, took a step back.

“No, Y/n… we can’t,” he said with a deep frown, looking down at his feet. “I could hurt you. The Ghost Touch…”

A frown spread across your features, too. You knew that he was right. Ghost Touch was still a possibility and could kill you if you made contact with him.

“Can’t we at least try, though?” You ask, a more hopeful look replacing your sad expression. “You never know. Maybe things are different for us.”

“How can things be different, Y/n?” He says, sounding a little strained. “You’re the only one with any sort of common sense around this bunch, you should use it. My ectoplasm is like poison. If you touch it, you die. There’s no other way of putting it.”

“But there could be! Just look at Marissa and Ezekiel. They touched each other loads of times!”

Skull thinks about that for a little while, and then smirks. “I suppose you’re right about that. There was certainly a little something going on between those two idiots,” he chuckles to himself. Then, his tone goes back to being more serious. “But, still. Their circumstances were complicated. I think it’s better if we just play it safe. I’m sorry.”

You look visibly disappointed, and Skull does too. He ponders his words for a moment and speaks up again.

“Believe me, Y/n… I want this just as much as you do. Maybe even more.”

He then sighs deeply, and this catches your attention.

“Look… there’s a reason I returned here. Personally, I could gladly go without ever seeing some of these ‘eccentric’ people again,” he scoffs, clearly thinking about a certain egotistical leader and bespectacled boy. “Lucy… it’s safe to say I’ve formed an attachment to her, as much as she begrudges me. Although, I suppose I don’t charm her all too much, either. But you, Y/n… I hate to say it, but you genuinely mean something to me.”

Skull has to pause for a little moment again. It seems that this is all very hard for the green ghost to admit. He’s not used to being vulnerable like this, and feels like somewhat of a hypocrite for being sensitive when he so often gives others a hard time for behaving the same way.

“I love you, Y/n.”

He sniffles. The ghost has begun to cry.

“I never knew how to say it until it was too late. But I love you. So much more than you could ever know, more than I ever knew I could. I could hardly believe myself once I realized I was starting to feel this way. I wanted so badly to deny it, to push it down… usually I would just find people like you to be a pathetic twit, never anyone I would fall in love with.”

Skull chuckles in a bittersweet way. “Who knew. Looks like this crude old ghost still has a heart in him after all.”

It takes a moment for you to process all of these words. You never knew he felt this way about you. You just thought all of those little “hints” were just him messing around as he always does. There’s a slight moment of silence that fills the air as you think through what he says.

Skull cuts it off. “So, believe me, Y/n. There’s nothing I want more than to hold you, to kiss you. But I’m sorry, my love. I cannot risk losing you. I would never be able to live with that guilt.”

Another moment of silence, this time slightly more solemn.

“Isn’t that exactly why we should try it?” You ask in a soft voice, a little smile forming on your lips. “If anyone’s worth risking it all for… it’s you, Skully. I love you too.”

A sob wracks its way out of Skull’s throat the moment those words hit his ears. A green hand quickly covers his mouth as the tears stream down his face, muffling his further cries. He's not used to acting this way at all but there’s just something about you that allows him to feel vulnerable and break down his walls. Teary eyes meet with yours, and you can sense deep emotion within them.

When you step closer to him, he doesn’t fight it this time. He just stands there and cries, still covering his mouth, and never taking his eyes off yours.

Then, you reach out… and gently wipe a tear away.

More silence.

Your hand lingers there for a moment. A thumb caresses his cheek. Nothing happens.

You and Skull glance at each other with the same shocked expression, still in complete silence, before your hand moves again. You lovingly cup his face. Then pet his hair. Then grab his shoulders.

Nothing.

The silence is broken when Skull’s sobbing resumes. His hands shake intensely as he reaches up to grab your wrists. This ghost boy has been touch starved beyond belief and he hasn’t even realized it until now when he finally feels your gentle touch. Suddenly you find him scooping you up in the tightest of hugs, his hands wandering every part of your body they can touch, memorizing every curve, every feature… all while he weeps. You retaliate the affection by giving him those soft touches he has already fallen in love with and kissing his forehead and cheeks.

“Y/n, my darling…” He whispers, pulling you into another strong embrace once again. “Oh, dearest…”

He simply melts right into you once you hug him back. Years of pining, tension, and heartache melt right off of him. All he feels now is peace, love, and pure joy. The things he thought he could only dream of having.

It’s up to you to take the initiative and kiss him, since he seems far too preoccupied in just the feeling of your hugs. Soft ectoplasmic lips meet yours and the two of you fit together like it was always meant to be. Poor Skull still cannot believe the luck he has.

But rest assured, he now knows that he has you. And he will never, ever let you go.

[skrunklowumbo64]

DISCLAIMER: Don't engage with a toxic user that's being called out, just block, report, ignore, & move one.

Remember when I made a public apology for making a callout tweet about a certain Tumblr group of IDW Sonic critics (a certain fox was one of them) on Twitter like roughly 2 years ago?

Yeah, I was in good terms afterwards, but a year later, when I randomly saw the edgy sadist fox man wishing death on a comic book writer showing up in my personal Twitter timeline, I took my apology back from him (plus some of his associates overtime) & gave my two cents about it.

The reason why he wished death on a comic book writer was because the satanically evil boogiestans were harassing & doxing his friend who had cancer. You know the old saying, 2 wrongs don't make it right. This isn't the only toxicity thing he has done & I got several evidence to show below.

CW/TW: Excessive Slurs, Bigotry, SH, & SA

(Uncompressed Image Link)

(Uncompressed Image Link)

BONUS EXAMPLES

Plus archived links to his Twitter & Tumblr accounts.

There are way more than what are shown in the images & I can't expect to find them all. Several or so of them are from a few years or nearly a decade ago, but it does prove that he's always been an heartless irredeemable sadist, even before IDW Sonic existed & before you pull that "years ago" defense card, his behavior hasn't changed for the better, like these for example (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11).

What do I think about him?

He's overly smugged, to a point of being arrogant.

He gets overly insecure whenever, for example, any Sonic game gets any criticism &/or negative opinions from people who're either fans of Sonic or not.

Most of his "critiques" are in bad faith.

He has extreme accusatory behavior (I.E. He accuses people of hating Sonic & not playing the games for daring to like anything non-game Sonic related, getting things about Sonic wrong, & making AU fan fics that differs from the games).

He has a habit of blocking anyone over the most pettiest things (I.E. Anyone using the term, Mobius, being told to calm down, people liking transgender Bridget, people liking SnapCube & Team 4 Star (he also wants them banned over it), etc.).

He constantly relies on ad-hominem attacks & vulgar insults whenever he talks to anyone he doesn't agree with, either directly or behind their backs by screenshotting their posts then posting them in his clique chamber to complain about it or both.

He's got this obnoxious Anti-WokeTuber vibes going on despite claiming to be against bigotry.

He gets easily butthurt over people enjoying any non-gaming media or anything in general of not just Sonic, but also Kirby, Castlevania, Dragon Ball, TMNT, & more as well.

He's a massive hypocrite, like for example, he hates anyone making & enjoying non-canon Sonic material while he's faving/making rule 34 fan art & fan fics involving sonic characters voring each other or any other fetishy things (which are also non-canon material).

etc.

If you're wondering if I'm aware about his certain questionable fan fics & favs, I knew already cuz I was the one that caused a chain-reaction on Twitter in the first place by randomly DMing some one rando about it & I honestly wish they shouldn't bring it up whenever they argue with said fox. If you want me to talk about what I think of this Dwai guy nowadays, maybe, but not right now.

How do you think I found out? I just googled the username, checkout their account on some furry site, & went to their profile from some controversial bunny site that's publicly shown on their profile bio out of morbid curiosity. Before you ask, I don't have an account on that controversial bunny site & never will.

My reaction to said content on there was disgust & uncomfortable. I hardly engage with those UCP addict types cuz they're not the most pleasant people to talk to & they're always predictable.

Did you know that he was banned on Twitter seven times, plus all tweets made before 2023 aren't searchable & apparently his first 6 bans had something to do with involvement with you know what? If you're morbidly curious about it, examples here. Remember, don't waste your time trying to argue about it.

The more I see toxicity from him, the more I having trust issues increased & regret making an apology to him, to a point where I think he's too FUBAR to deal with.

If he sees this, he's gonna be like, "TWEEGARD ZNOHVWEHK!", "MUH VWEE ZPEECH/VWEE KONTWEE!", "DOT TEEL MEE WAT 2 DOO!", "PEEOHWEETON!", "KOHTIZT!" "VWEEN/EYEDEEDUBBAHEW STAEN!", "CHUHZT SEH YOO HEHT SAWNIK GEHMZ & GOH!", "YOO HEHT MEE CUZ I KWEETESEYEZD VWEEN!", "CHUHZT PLEH DA GEHMZ!", "SWAENDOHAHR!", "STAHKR & HOHWAZZAHR!" the no you card, strawmanning, "At least I don't (Insert whatever bad thing the stans did)!", ad-hominem attacks, the "Stans are being mean to me!" sob stories, the whataboutisms, screenshotting then whine &/or being smugged about me in his clique-ish echo chamber, & more, guaranteed.

If you're saying I made this because of that one argument or whatever, I always had issues with him before it, not because of different opinions, but because he's the most insufferable individual to talk to due to his arrogant, nihilistic, cuss-happy, & creepy nature regardless if it's about Sonic or not.

For those who're about to ask me to make more callout posts about the people associated with him, I'm not interested & please don't beg me into making them.

If you also have issues with him, share your thoughts here, it also doesn't just have to be about IDW Sonic or Sonic general.

[omgkalyppso]

20 - Do you need me to carry you?

Okay this is funny because I sent this same prompt to someone else but for entirely different vibes than I'm about to write for you.

Additionally, I may use or entirely rewrite this moment for a longer fic at a later time. But I instantly knew which moment I wanted to write for this.

.

Cazador's dead bitch. cw for Cazador and Astarion history (very light). gore. blood tw. character death (Cazador and Lady Incognita). suicidal ideation. ends abruptly

.

The dissonant silence of the ritual site could hardly be called peaceful. The absence of the other spawn — now vampires, the quiet of the foiled archdevil, the departure of an unkindly and unlikely god, the dead of House Szarr, all left a unmistakable void — a hollow curse in the air that silently screamed for more, more, more. The air vibrated with magic unfinished, potential unrealized, satisfaction unsated.

There was nothing to be done for those Astarion had failed to save, for those he had failed to kill, for the years, and dignity, and power lost to him. Nothing to be done for the blessing of a god who had respected him only for what he had become in a fit of vengeance, who would have continued to feel no kinship with him had he remained a spawn.

The deep, pressing pain that ate away at his insides, aching with a vampire's hunger, was a reminder of his precarious balance on a scale of worthiness to every cosmic and societal scale that would measure him.

"Astarion?" prompted Lae'zel.

The sound frightened him into standing straight and dropping Cazador's staff, Woe, so that it crashed and clattered on the stone.

.

Her alien voice, her impossible presence here in Cazador's dungeon had him stammering, remembering his company and his purpose.

"Apologies, I just—"

Upon taking a step, Astarion, so accustomed to blood, and now awash with it, found that his boots splashed upon the floor, so sodden and saturated was the dais. His eyes widened in surprise.

"He will not come on his own," Lae'zel grumbled in concern.

"We have no need to rush him," Étoile said to soothe her, but all Astarion registered was that she was suddenly beside him, picking up Woe, and then striding away across the dais, collecting his ruined armor from where he'd — from where Cazador had—

"Astarion," Wyll beckoned. "I reckon civilization sounds pretty good about now? A bath and a bottle? Something to soothe the body and the mind?"

"Don't patronize me," he hissed, knowing the empty weight of the silent dead at his feet was the only reason Wyll would hear him, but he was more irritable as Lae'zel, approaching from his side, extended a hand, whether to drag him or comfort him — both were tantamount to the same invasion of his autonomy. He stumbled away from her before she came close, near shouting, "Don't touch me!"

Turning his face away to his feet, Astarion was faced with the broken body of Lady Incognita, the littlest Szarr and Cazador's greatest regret — aside from himself. He didn't turn his gaze back on the others as he stepped over her, towards them, whining as he went.

"Let's just ... go." He wrapped his arms around himself as he felt Wyll and Étoile's presence to either side of him as he passed between them. He took a few more steps before stopping to call over his shoulder, "This place reeks of death and I want to feel alive again."

Étoile nodded Lae'zel ahead, and she lightly jogged to get in front of Astarion, taking point on any remaining threats or servants they may yet come across, seeking the result of the ritual.

Astarion was grateful that at least Wyll and Étoile allowed him some space as he slowly made his way to the stairs, yet when his whole body wobbled when he lifted his foot to take the first one, it seemed Étoile couldn't be dissuaded from quickening their pace until they were immediately at his back, and Astarion sighed.

How strange to be separated from his siblings so soon, but not in death, to be among allies and betrayers. Cazador's voice rang in his head, disappointments he'd expressed from minutes past and from years ago, punishments, and promises, and praise for the most vile acts.

The companions around him had led him astray.

He was here of his own conviction.

He was a walking contradiction. He was weak.

Soon, after a rest, he would be a vampire, and possess all the powers that were denied to him, and be the strongest he had ever been.

The slick blood on Astarion's boots and the flat, featureless staircase in this subterranean hell did not agree with one another, and he slipped, and the part of him that remembered wanting to bargain with Cazador when he was in a charitable mood whispered in the darkest corner of his mind that he was right to fall, that he should have jumped, that such an end would be as one final command from his master. His siblings would know, somehow. They'd undoubtedly think it fitting, for how he'd flirted with ending their lives.

It was barely a fraction of a second, but still it was disorienting to be righted. Étoile had their closer arm around him, barely touching his shoulder, but their far hand had caught and squeezed tight on Astarion's wrist, forcing him to standing.

"Are you alright?" Étoile asked, firm, grip unyielding.

"Let. Go," Astarion said with more venom than he intended. He felt outside of himself as Étoile sighed and released his wrist. He attempted to wrangle himself. "I'm capable of a few more stairs, darling. I—" He huffed, the set of his eyebrows failing, a guilty sensation of a different nature constricting his throat. "Thank you."

Wyll whistled to stop Lae'zel from getting too far ahead, causing Astarion to squint in heavy irritation. Perhaps it wasn't that the air around the ritual site was stifling, maybe that was just his existence, now and forever.

"Astarion," Étoile coaxed, assertive and sincere, shocking his eyes back open. They looked pained, sad, but after ... other conversations, Astarion didn't imagine it could be pity putting that slant in their mouth, that hesitation in their body language. "I could carry you to the top of the stairs, if you wanted."

"No," Astarion blurted instantly, moving half a foot back before settling back in place, eyes tracking the movement of Étoile's hand when they reached out to his elbow once more, as if he were falling away again. They had carried him before, once or twice, but not like this, where the world felt surreal and his boots squelched with his master's blood.

"No," he said again. "I-I-I," his eyes sought the distant walls, the faraway cages, the yawning chasm, "I just need a moment."

"Here?" asked Étoile, not judgmental, but concerned.

Stilling his movements, catching their eye, Astarion nodded his assent.

This stair was wide enough to turn about on, and slowly Astarion turned again to look at the ritual far below. It was a nightmare. Not his, but someone's. It was everything he could have hoped for.

Steadily, Astarion lowered himself to the stair, sitting on this precarious piece of rock in a setting he was never meant to survive. If not for the mindflayer worm, if not for those who chose to be here ... he wouldn't have.

"Not an hour ago Cazador was standing there," Astarion observed. "He was ..." he scoffed. "Well, he was killing his whole family. But he was also pleading for a way out. He was looking to me for ... supplication. For clan. For understanding. And now? He's gone."

Wyll opened his mouth to respond, and Astarion heard the gasp of his breath that preceded a word, but Étoile, to his side, raised a finger to their lips, silencing him. The Blade of Frontiers nodded quickly, and Astarion wondered what he would say — what he could say in regards to the passing of the Gate's most terrible of vampires. It should have mattered to him, but Astarion could only feel the terror of the past few hours, the past ... forever, in his blood.

"I can't overstate what a permanent presence he was in — not 'my life,' the way you would mean it, as an occupant or an obsession. But in my very existence, at the core of myself," Astarion gestured with his hands, tapped upon his chest, and wondered about bearing himself so thoroughly. But with so much blood, tacky and fresh, decorating his skin, he felt raw and as if they'd seen the worst of him already. "How and why I lived? Every emotion tied up in every decision that flittered across my mind was for Cazador. How to escape, how to feed, how to feel, what to dream." 'To avoid his ire, to escape his attention, to appease his hunger,' Astarion told himself. "After all these years — these centuries — it's really over."

He could make out Cazador's gore among the rest in the massacre they were leaving behind, shredded as he was. His was the corpse in the most wretched state.

This would likely be the last time he saw any of Cazador, unless one counted having to wash the blood from himself once they were out of here.

Astarion squirmed. He recalled being unable to wriggle in discomfort as Cazador's hands traced his face, as his lips found the crook of his jaw, so close to where his punctured scars immortalized their connection.

'Fourth, thou shalt know that thou art mine.'

Astarion felt a horrible laugh bubble out of him, tears risking him again, but only just. Freedom. He never thought it would taste like this, half aching, half terrified, maybe more ... He reached into himself for the joy, to those unanswered prayers from a time when gods mattered, to the smallest, most hopeless parts of his undead heart, to make sure they knew, he was safe.

"What I've lost," Astarion observed, not looking to Étoile, but nodding towards them, "what I've gained — it's all so much."