#I like the white and black stitching on the inside seem of the sleeves and across the back

[dribs-and-drabbles]

The Thai Communal Wardrobe item #144

Wandee Goodday ep 8:

Sunset x Vibes ep 2:

for @hotasfahrenheit 💙

[vii-doodles]

HazbinAutumnWeek Day 3: Trick or Treating!

Little 1k+ StaticApple / Valastor writing under the cut ✨

The three overlords and their majesty made a striking group as they strolled down the streets of Hell in their Halloween costumes, heading toward the final stop of the night: the Hazbin Hotel, where a Halloween party was waiting for them.

Valentino, dressed as Cruella with a massive black-and-white fur coat, a black dress so sleek it perfectly melted into every curve of his body and an elegant cigarette holder, had a gentle hand on Alastor’s shoulder. Alastor, perfectly in character as Lady Tremaine, wore a wine-red gown with puffy shoulders and an air of refined mischief that suited him too well. One of Val’s extra arms was looped through Alastor’s, keeping them close.

Infront them, Vox trailed along with a pumpkin-shaped basket in hand, his screen projecting fake stitches to his amused grin and wearing a black suit, perfectly representing Jack Skellington, as he watched Lucifer practically skipping ahead. Lucifer, fittingly dressed as Sally was filled with pure excitement, his face lit up with childlike glee as he bounded up the hotel's hill.

“Trick or treat!” he shouted eagerly, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. As the doors of the Hotel opened to welcome them, Lucifer couldn’t contain himself and gave a little jump, his stitched-up sleeves flapping. Charlie, who had opened the doors, squealed excited at the sight of them.

Val chuckled, squeezing Alastor’s arm gently. “Seeing the the king of hell being so... Lively... because of some candy was truly not on my bingo card for this year.” he murmured, watching Lucifer with genuine amusement.

Vox smirked, watching his lover with an affectionate glint in his eyes. He’d been the one to tell Lucifer all about trick-or-treating, a quaint human tradition that seemed like an odd fit for the ruler of Hell. But Lucifer had been all in from the start, insisting they go all out, costumes and all. And now here he was, fully immersed in the experience, delighted at every door that had handed him a handful of sweets.

Of course, for Vox, there was an added step at every stop. The moment they collected their candy, he’d casually flicker his screen, sending out subtle hypnotic waves that glazed over the minds of each demon they encountered. Couldn’t have it getting around that three of Hell’s most feared Overlords, plus Lucifer himself, were out indulging in such a cutesy and domestic activity. Maintaining their reputation took a bit of effort, after all.

Charlie stepped aside and made them follow her inside of the Hotel, her own costume an adorable mishmash of pumpkin and ghost elements. “Welcome, welcome! I’m so glad you all made it!” She beamed, clapping her hands together. “Come on in! This party’s just getting started!”

Lucifer was the first inside, his eyes darting immediately to the tables loaded with an array of Halloween-themed snacks. There were candied apples, marshmallow ghosts, and a bubbling punch bowl filled with some ominously glowing green liquid. “Oh, Vox, look at all this!” he exclaimed, practically bouncing as he took in the spread.

Vox smirked as he followed Lucifer toward the food, holding the pumpkin basket as Lucifer picked out treats with the enthusiasm of a child. “I swear,” Vox teased, leaning in close, “it’s like you’ve never seen candy before.”

Lucifer chuckled, casting Vox a sidelong glance. “It’s not really the candy,” he murmured, his voice softening with a hint of wonder. “It’s the whole experience. I never truly celebrated Halloween before... I suppose I just lost interest in human festivities after a while.” He paused, looking around the decorated room with genuine appreciation. “But tonight... it feels different. It’s… nice, having a reason to enjoy all this.”

A warm smile softened Vox’s usually sharp features. Without a word, he placed a gentle hand on Lucifer’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. He could feel his own heart stirring, watching the joy on Lucifer’s face, a brightness that made him feel lighter. “Then enjoy it,” Vox said quietly, his voice filled with warmth. “I can’t imagine a better Halloween than this one, seeing you this happy.”

Charlie smiled fondly at Vox's and her father's interaction, watching them with warmth in her eyes before turning back to Valentino and Alastor, who had stepped inside hand in hand.

“So, over here’s the dance floor,” she said, leading them to a spacious area adorned with flickering jack-o’-lanterns and fake cobwebs. “And we’ve got a few different drinks set up. There’s something smoky, something sweet, and, of course, something... a little more intense.”

Alastor’s eyes lit up as he took in the carefully arranged tables, and he gave Charlie an approving nod. “My, my, you’ve outdone yourself, Miss Morningstar. Quite the spread you’ve got here. I couldn't have done it better.”

Charlie blushed, clearly thrilled at Alastor's approval. “Thanks, Alastor! And you two look fantastic. I mean, really! Cruella and Lady Tremaine?” She gave a playful smile, “Absolutely villainous. Though... I wasn't aware that you knew who they are, Al.”

Valentino chuckled, smoothing the fur on his Cruella coat. “Only the best for a night like this.” His arm remained looped with Alastors. "though I had to rather force those films onto him" he added, pulling Alastor a little closer and to Charlie's suprise, Alastor didn't even protest. With a smile on her lips she left as Vaggie called out for her.

As they made their way through the Halloween crowd, Valentino nudged Alastor with an elbow, a smirk creeping onto his face. "I gotta hand it to you, cariño,” he drawled, eyeing Alastor’s Lady Tremaine costume. “You look almost as good as me in a villain’s getup.”

Alastor chuckled, a sly smile curling on his lips as he adjusted the collar of his gown. "Almost? Darling, I'm practically the embodiment of evil elegance," he replied smoothly. "And I didn’t even need to slip into stilettos to pull it off."

Val laughed, glancing down at his own black stilettos. “Oh, you wish. These things are a statement, baby. Though I gotta admit,” he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a playful murmur, “I never thought I'd see you in something this... flamboyant.”

Alastor raised an eyebrow, pretending to be scandalized. “Why, Valentino! Are you suggesting I’m anything less than flamboyant every day?”

Val threw his head back in laughter. “Touché. Guess I forgot who I was talking to.” He glanced at Alastor, eyes gleaming. “So, when’s the next dance? I wanna see if you’re as smooth on the floor as you are with that silver tongue.”

Alastor smirked, offering his hand with a dramatic flourish. “Shall we find out, darling?”

Val took it without hesitation, the two overlords slipping seamlessly into a waltz amid the costumed chaos around them, both too proud to let the other outshine them, and both enjoying every second of it.

[mysewingadventures]

Making the ✨Lioncourt Gown✨ (Part 3/4)

It has been a little longer than I had hoped for since my last update but I've made some progress! The tape has finally arrived.

But for context - I am trying to make this:

into a (semi) historically accurate 1790s women's redingote and it's probably my favorite project so far. Anyways, here's what I did since my last update.

The tape arrived, but it was a little too light (it was basically white, I'd wanted it to be sort of beige/champagne) so I decided to dunk it into some coffee and hope for the best. It did work somewhat, stained it a pretty champagne color. It's still on the lighter side, but I'm okay with it. It may look white in some pictures though. Unfortunately, I completely forgot to take pictures of my dyeing process. Just imagine a tupperware full of instant coffee and some white tape in it haha. It's also thicker than I would have liked it to be but it was the thinnest one available, and I'm pretty glad it's thick-ish because with how difficult it is to sew it, I don't want to imagine my struggle with an even thinner tape.

I'd already prepped the color panels, so I applied the tape and used my sewing machine to sew them really close to the edges. A very time-consuming but weirdly therapeutic process. I started with the bodice and then went on to do the sleeves.

The sleeves seem to have black cuffs in the original picture, so I added some of that satin fabric to the sleeves.

Next, I attached the sleeves to the bodice. I can't help myself, I have to say it again: I hate sleeves. I hate sewing them, I especially hate attaching them, because they never turn out the way I want them to. This time again, I had to add little pleats to the tops because the armscye was too small for the sleeves, but since it's going to be covered by the collar anyways, I just pleated them. Redingote sleeves may have been pleated sometimes, it's hard to tell from the pictures of extant garments because of the huge collar, but it was a trend a bit earlier so it may have carried over to the redingotes.

I'm sorry about the cat fur in this picture I lost my lint roller I promise I'll find it.

When I was done with the sleeves, I attached the Lioncourt label to the inside of the bodice-

and went to work on the collar. I've put off making it as long as possible because I didn't really know how to attach it to the bodice, but I think I've figured out a way. I'd made the back neckline without any seam allowance, so I found an old scrap piece of black cotton bias tape and used that to hem the raw edge.

Then I draped some of my mockup fabric to figure out the correct shape of the collar and after some trial and error (cutting it out a total of three? or four times), I was finally happy with the shape and cut it out of the navy cotton twill.

I cut out two pieces of each so it would be sturdier, machine-stitched along the neckline part, turned it inside out, pressed it with an iron and applied the red tape. I seem to have forgotten to take a picture of the tape application process, but I then also applied the red tape to the entire bodice.

And here's the entire bodice so far (the collar is not attached yet so it looks a bit wonky):

On a side note, upon rewatching the scene in which Lestat wears this outfit, I noticed that the back also had the colored panels. However, I feel like it's colorful enough as it is, and frankly, I don't have enough satin and tape left to do it, so I'm just going to leave it. I like it better this way.

Anyways, I'm really excited to finish this up soon, but I also ran out of red tape so I'll have to find some time to go to the sewing store to get some more. And I'm not entirely sure if I'm going to do an actual button closure in the front or if I'm going to fake it. The satin is extremely prone to fraying and I'm scared to add button holes to it, even though I'd planned to add them over the horizontal stripes. I'm going to have to find some fabric scraps and see how the fabric behaves, and if it frays I'm going to have to fake it with some hooks on the inside of the bodice. I hope it's going to look good either way!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4|

[yuugen-benni]

How are they dressed ?

You see someone dressed in an unusual way on the train.

''Every day I take the train at 12:30, visiting my clients at lunchtime........''

.....The journey takes about an hour, from Naples to the destination, and on rare days I meet a peculiar man - the old ladies next to me always comment on what a "sweet man" he is, yet the pickpockets by my side fled under his sight. He wears a white suit with small black spots and his blazer is high-necked, although it has an opening from the collarbone to the end of the sternum, plus the fact that there are… zippers? Seven of them. Four in the shoulder area, one on each wrist and one on the neck. It's like they can open specific parts but who knows it's just a style of blazer...and I'm not gonna lie, he looks good in that. I try not to stare at him because, One - his hair looks like a helmet, sorry but he has black chin-length hair with straight-cut bangs covering his forehead; two - the tattoo on his chest makes me nervous; three - HE makes me nervous. ....I can't believe I'm questioning my type.

....At this time, the train station is always crowded, and you have to be careful not to get pushed into the wrong place. Today was no different. I planned to arrive early to avoid stumbling and the excessive body heat of so many sweaty people packed together, but I still had to stop to buy my ticket and then head to the correct car. It didn’t take long, and people were in a hurry, but also because of that, there were a lot of hands pushing me inside as if I were a stray dog ​​about to be picked up by the dog catcher. It was abrupt, I tripped on the entrance door of the car and would have fallen face down on the floor if it weren't for a firm hand grabbing my arm and staring at those people who insisted on going through even with a person on the floor. Everyone stopped. I looked up and…a man in black ? no, no that doesn't give him justice. clears throat, a man…a vampire…a goth? I'm still trying to figure it out, don't think I'm calling him ugly - quite the opposite - he's wearing a long leather overcoat that reaches his ankles, inside a white dress shirt (the sleeves and collar are slightly ruffled) and a waistcoat tight enough to resemble a corset, his gloved hands and his gaze could cut through even the hardest diamond on the face of the earth. The man helped me stand up and walk properly inside the train, people began to organize themselves in a line - which based on my calculations would not last long -. Unfortunately I never saw that man again, I wish I could use him as my guard dog.

.....And it seems that there is a place for artists, of course after they renovated the station it became a beautiful place to enjoy. Every Wednesday I meet a man, I don't know his name because I always have to rush and I can't stop to talk so our interactions are limited to small smiles and greetings. I must say that the first thing I noticed when I saw him for the first time was his fashion choices. There is always a reference to his work as a designer and writer - straps with pen tips at the end stitched to his shirt or pen tip choker, earrings, brooches and sometimes bracelets. He seems to like it, and I admire his confidence - one day I couldn't help but quickly comment and he told me that it was actually me and the others who dressed boringly...ouch...but a laughed.

[skelliko]

kazutora hanemiya |°- identify discovered

๑- plot summary: y/n is in a different gang (wilder lands, (i made it up) ) but tries to hide her identity as a girl with a mask and ect, but then gets found out

a/n- [this is the first part of a fanfic I'm currently writing just out of boredom] nvm its on haitus

°- Kazutora hanemiya (Walhalla)

a little run-in was certainly not what they both expected, but it was something that the other wanted. upon seeing the person in front of kazutora with a black mask covering half of his face and a gang's jacket having the name 'wilder land' written downwards the left sleeve, it's made clear that he's the one that has infiltrated Walhalla's territory.

• the jacket is black all over and has the gangs symbol of a white rat from behind and as well as the name of the gang written downwards on one sleeve

• wears a mask to cover up her identity, for her daily life and so other members don't recognise her to be a girl

"you rat!" Kazutora immediately called out making y/n to get a little frightened due to her not needing this run-in so soon after some recent events that she previously had to deal with, she's not fully recovered enough to deal with this right now.

"shit" y/n whispered to herself before trying to sprint away from him, she knows her limits and doesn't dare to overstep them in case she misses a step, so running right now instead of getting into a 1V1 fight is the best option. but even then, stamina is still pretty low.

"oi don't run away you wuss!" kazutora yells from behind but soon enough the large gap they had when they first noticed each other was caught up and it was a close goose chase.

the mask that y/n wore didn't exactly help with her breathing so for a short moment she lowered it down below her chin so she could breathe properly, kazutora was behind so the only way he could see her was if he moved to the front.

turning corner to corner, and risking herself by running across roads hoping to not get hit by a car, it was getting exhausting and her legs were starting to get strained, even a stitch has developed on the side of y/n's stomach from running too much.

y/n ended up running into an abandoned warehouse with the first doors already wide open. old, broken crates and boxes sat by the sides and litter scattered around the floor such as empty bottles and wrapping, there's a high chance that it's probably someone's hideout but a good risk to take nevertheless if it means possible escape. y/n put the mask back on over her mouth and nose and stopped in her tracks to look past the doorway to see if the Walhalla's number 3 is still lingering by or not,

bending down a little to rest her hands above her knees to catch her breath while staring down the doorway without blinking, for a moment it seemed like she had managed to get away but that thought didn't relax her since anticipation floated around instead, and exactly then kazutora's shoes skit the gravel underneath him and stopped In front of the open doors where y/n's eyes were locked in at, "I'll snap your legs in half so you stop running!" he exclaims almost scarily enthusiastically, potential adrenaline kicking inside of him

panic flooded y/n making her jump slightly and upon instinct she whipped out a small blade from her pocket in case she had to engage in a fight, the silver blade glistened from the light and kazutora stopped in his tracks for a split second before he continued to keep moving, he both found this chase aggravating and entertaining. he certainly was the tiger and her being the rat.

her body trembled slightly from the strain that she had to endure and her mind was close to becoming foggy so she tried to run despite if doing so she wouldn't get anywhere far and instead just collapse on the ground, but it's still an option to take.

either run till you pass out or pass out getting beaten.

hurriedly running towards the other end of the warehouse where the two back doors are shut, upon reaching the two doors and almost painfully smashing the side of her shoulder against the door and wobbling the handle to try and open it but all it did was make the doors rattle, they were locked.

before she could do anything else a hard wack crossed the side of her face and a forceful arm took hold of her, as if a large snake had curled up and begun to choke her neck. kazutora had hit y/n and had placed her in a chokehold.

Kazutora won't admit but he had noticed an off feeling about the guy who he chased down, something such as a feminine feel but if questioned kazutora wouldn't be able to answer why, other than 'smaller than most'. but the thought immediately went away when he noticed the previous blade in the 'rats' hand was nearing Kazu's arm so with the other hand kazutora loosened the choke hold to grab hold of the blade resulting in Y/n being in no shape or position in having the higher advantage. other than her having propper airway now,

in this very moment she was weak, before the chase she was weak, maybe if caught at another time she wouldn't have been the rat.

kazutora inspected the blade that was now in his hands for a second or two before waving it around next to the side of y/n's face out of humour, nausea grew over her and almost nothing made sense to her anymore, was it the sprinting in the cold weather making her temperature jump from hot to cold?

"shouldn't play with knives" he mocks and a smile crosses over his lips, his eyes then fell onto the black mask and curiosity flooded his mind, "firstly, let's see what's under the mask ey? gotta know who's the one trying to sneak out information" kazutora then pinched the middle of the mask and forced it off from her with the straps sliding over her ears.

y/n's warm body from when she started to feel sick then fell back down into a normal temperature as cool air flowed through her mouth. she's aware of what's happening, and is aware that if she tried to move she'd only struggle, so the only option she had was to face it, deal with it and just suck it up.

in kazutora's mind, who was known to be a 'boy' is actually a girl. he stared at her not him for what felt like both a long and short moment. he didn't know what to do, he couldn't tell if his eyes were even working, maybe this person in front of him is actually a guy but just looks like a girl??

"you gonna keep staring or what?" y/n finally spoke, a bit of a worn out, raspy voice was heard but her voice was certainly one a girl would have. at that moment kazutora realised it was his first time hearing the person talk but also at that moment realising that person is a girl.

"you..." he let go of her and took two quick steps backwards but gripped the blade that he had previously taken off from her. he didn't know what to think, the whole time that's a girl? his eyes darted all across her, from head to toe and was unsure if he should still try to attack or not. despite being an enemy of Toman, old habits and rules still stick by him, to not harm girls. but nevertheless, if she were to lunge forwards he wouldn't hesitate to fight back.

y/n also took a few steps backwards and turned around to face him while bringing up a hand up to where she previously got hit, a hint of awkwardness lingered between the two as any clear direction of what to do next was pretty much out of the window

y/n hesitated briefly upon speaking up, biting her lower lip as her eyes darted around kazutora not daring to take her eyes off him, pain from when he had hit her previously rose up on the side of her temple making her endure the pressure, she cleared her throat briefly before finally speaking up "will you... rat me out?"

though right after this words were spoken she cringed, why wouldn't he tell her secret out? she's been lying about being a guy for quite some time and even then she's the one that infiltrated his hideout to evedrop and be a secret nuisance

"why shouldn't I?" he straightened himself up a bit but still had his guard up and shifted the knife in his grasp. 'not a bad looker' he briefly thought but that wasn't his main thought at all,

"don't know. forget I asked" she replied almost immediately after,

"...I'm gonna quickly ignore the reveal and cut to the main part for now, the fuck were to doing spying on us and what do you know?" he firmly spoke up,

"what if I don't say anything?" knowing that playing around and testing the waters isn't the best option but considering how he reacted when realising that y/n is a girl and chose to let go of her that couldn't be ignored and instead used as an advantage

"you-! I would have punched you so hard if you were a guy!"

"no please do, I know I fucked up so I'll take a hit, i can put back on my male persona so it's easier for you, just please hit me" she sounded desperate with the thought of feeling physical pain other than being pained that she will soon enough have nowhere to belong if this secret gets out, what else is there for her?

a lot actually, but she doesn't want that.

"the hells wrong with you now? just what kind of secrets are you hiding?" he took a singular and small step forwards but all y/n did was shuffle her footing only going back by an inch.

"okay maybe that came out a little unexpected but I have all the reasons but none to give" she admitted

"stop trying to say smart things and just spit the information out would you! I don't have the time and I won't make time" he's clearly growing impatient

"I fucked up, that's all! I thought I was doing the right thing cause you can't keep your guys in control and their prowling around our turf so why couldn't I?" she busted the word out

"stupidity is all I hear, I can't even tell if that's a lie or the truth seeing its coming out from you..."

"...I'm still conflicted about you being a girl, how do you get away with that so easily?" he was starting to get cautious now and pry interest into the topic "and most of all why?"

"wasn't and isn't easy for various reasons but the reason for why i did all this in the first place is something that i cant and simply won't share, i aint one to just give out personal information like that"

"oh? so you can sneak into our hideout, pry around when we're not looking and listen in into our conversations and run around freely but cant say why you pretended to be a guy? why a girl like you chose to live the lifestyle of gangs and violence?" kazutora became a bit more intimidating and if not that, then definitely a lot more forward and critical while walking closer to her,

"tell me, why does a girl like you think that you have what it takes? why do you carry around a knife but can't use? all you can do is run around and act like you know what you're doing but you don't" he brought the knife up and pointed it at her chin before speaking up again, "quit playing pretend and actually become useful for something, delinquency or harsh reality isn't meant for you"

whilst still pointing the knife at her he took a step backwards and let go of it letting it hit the smooth, yet worn out and jagged concrete with a clang, he looked at y/n as if he was searching some sort of reaction from her but all he could find was nothing, just dull eyes and an expression that can't be explained which he considered to be strange but without sparing another second he started to walk away in the direction of the first entrance to the warehouse.

in his mind he thought of y/n to be like any other girl, weak-minded and secretly has a perfect life, a little spoiled and has a functioning family. but that's far from the reality that he's unaware of, he can't help but think that she was trying to prove something that she can't prove and never will be. maybe to what y/n had heard kazutora say to be mean but to himself he considers that to be a teaching for her to try and not get involved in places where she knows she doesn't belong in.

though he barely knows her and doesn't even know her name, which thinking of that now made him slow down his walking and debate on going back, but what would he gain from a name of a random girl? so he just kept on walking.

even with hearing footsteps hitting the gravel from behind him he kept walking away not expecting much from the girl, though that was mistaken cause his steady balance was taken away and he fell flat forwards and heavy pressure was placed on his back, his chest pressed against the sharp graven was like laying down on bent screws.

the side of kazutora's head was laid down on the ground and his eyes looking up at y/n,

he could have easily tried and pushed her off to the side and gotten up however one thing that did fully register in his mind was a sharp, metal point underneath his jaw. the previous knife.

"I expect you to keep it a secret, I didn't gain shit from walking into your turf so there's no need for you to gain anything from this" she spoke quite harshly but never rose her voice,

one knee pressed against the upper center of kazutora's back and with one hand she took hold of one of his wrists and forced his arm down to the gravel while with her other hand she dug in the blade into his skin, she only dug a little, enough for it to cause discomfort as the very tip of the blade is hidden from skin being pressed inwards.

"your not gonna do anything" kazutora spoke through his teeth

"no I won't, but that doesn't mean I don't have an advantage, I mean I could probably give you a neat scar... or better yet ruin that tattoo"

"don't try and speak all highly, the hell is it with you?" he spoke back, barely reacting to the situation

"I'm sure it's quite obvious what I want, I don't need you running your mouth around and ruining what I have, i-"

and just then it seemed like y/n's strength wasn't able to pin kazutora down for long, that must have been obvious when pressing a knee down to his back since his stiff back could be felt, and also the hand size comparison when she took hold of his wrist.

y/n was now on her back and it was a painful pin due to the gravel and the different-sized rocks scattered around outside the warehouse, how she knows how he felt around the ribs

kazutora is now sat on top of her with one hand holding both of her wrists together and with the other hand he pointed the blade that he took away by twisting her wrist, the blade under her chin quite similar to before but now touching her skin how she did to him.

"you bitch" y/n whispered but it was clear enough for anyone to hear that so happen to be as close as kazutora is

"I wanna know why your so keen on being kept in a gang? do you hate baking cupcakes? do you not have any friend's? why don't you go home and watch some sappy romcom"

"your just thinking of a stereotypical girl" this is getting awfully annoying for her but same goes for him having to deal with this,

but just then a thought appeared, why not try and pester him a little. "what happened to you being in toman? I thought they were all about keeping a girl safe" she then tried to move her wrists away since he was holding them up and not pinned down but that was useless because it did more bad than good cause it made her shoulderblades to dig deeper into the gravel and him just pulling her hands back like a leash to an eager dog

"the fuck you say?" clear anger and almost confusion filled his expression, even his grip around her wrists increased and he began to dig his short nails into her skin making her to hold her breath

he leaned down just a little "Mention toman again and ill make sure you understand how much things are different from then to now" his whole mood has switched up, sure previously he was already quite annoyed but this is completely different

"don't mention anything about me then, and I won't tell anyone about there's a spy working for you"

he lowered his chin a little as his mind began to think of what she meant but then it finally clicked, kisaki. 

he couldn't help but stay silent for a brief moment, 'so she does know something after all, if she knows that much then certainly she knows everything else' he avoided eye contact with her and looked off to the side, he stopped digging his nails into her skin and relaxed a little causing the knife that he was holding to loosen a little away from her skin, but didn't let go.

after a few seconds y/n spoke up but then got cut off,

"so what does that-?"

"Why don't you shut up! should have kept the mask on so I really could've punched you"

his mood is currently all over the place, jumping from line to line between being angry and annoyed to needing to admit defeat and sort things out quickly. he can't stay here forever.

being a girl really does have its advantages, but that doesn't mean it'd work for everyone or simply anyone, just got lucky that it was at least kazutora who used to be in toman that was learnt not to harm girls, if it were any other walhalla member then y/n would have definitely had a few broken fingers so that she would never be able to pick up a knife or let alone a fork.

after another short moment of silence and tension kazutora made a move and drew back the blade as well as slowly let go of her wrists, he got off from her but couldn't help but feel a little humiliated by the whole situation and the position.

"I'm keeping the blade" is all he said as he took a few steps away and turned back to look at her

"on cmon don't be a prick" she protested and sat up from the ground, wincing a little as the gravel fell down from the back but the relief quickly flooded over her upon him being off of her,

kazutora turned back around briefly, "me being a prick would be telling everyone just who you are and nailing you inside of one of those empty crates-" he pointed at the open door to the warehouse that had some crates inside "-and me being stupid would be to give it back the second time"

he did have a fair point, not so long ago he was being threatened with it. she scoffed and stood up from the ground and brushed down any dust and dirt that stuck to her clothes, "fair enough" she mumbled not exactly wanting to admit it

"What's your name?" he wants to at least know something more. clogs are still turning in his head as he's still trying to process it all, the rival gang member that is occasionally seen around Walhalla's territory as if he's searching for something... has always been a girl,

she thought about it a little before replying, though the name that she gave was her fake name. the name she uses in the life of delinquency.

"f/n"

"only giving one name? fine by me" kazutora knew it was a fake, but trying to interrogate something small as a name would be pointless, he'd seen her around before and would definitely see her again. except with some change, still an enemy though.

"Okay f/n... tell me how much you know about Walhalla and what you've heard and I won't say a thing about you" he took a step forward prepared to grab hold of her if she tried to run, even though there was no good in running

she shuffled her footing a little and thought of a good response before replying,

"enough to know that 'wilder lands' and 'tokyo manji' could be potential allies, if not, then be on mutual terms. enough information to make your plans fail"

she spoke confidently but inside her mind, she wasn't even sure, and one thing that did come out of kazutora was clear annoyance and even disgust as she spoke about allying with Toman, so freely too.

Walhalla is just a mix of Tokyo manji haters with past grudges and unresolved fights.

"just cut the crap and spit it out, I don't need to keep asking"

"no one's asking you to do that. you already know what I know and I know what you know about me. let's just leave it at that, you wouldn't want anyone to see us having a little chit-chat making suspicions, would you?"

she tried to get him to lay it off but also make his nerves flame up.

he was practically looking down on her, girl or not she's still a rival, a pest that won't go away that thinks they're in a clear just cause no one noticed them, or maybe they have noticed but can't do anything about it due to other, bigger concerns.

which in his case would be to firstly take down Tokyo manji.

'Wilder Lands' and 'Walhalla' can barely be called enemies but also nowhere near being mutual. They're not at each other's throats, digging daggers into their ribs but instead throwing little pins at the back of their necks back and forth,

fights sometimes tend to break out both day and night between the two different members, using punches and kicks and even to play dirty with bats and pipes on some good days. but then go to not even bat an eye at each other the second they've gone 5cm past.

a lot of the time it's always the same people though, at this point it's like a constant rematch but no one's counting points.

how did all that even start? from an over arrogant Walhalla member bickering with a 'wilder lands' and constant words being spat at each other, from that point onwards it just grew to be a moment to waste time from both sides and have an excuse to hate.

sometimes it gets out of hand though, it's not always pathetic bickering but also some broken bones and jaws if not stopped quickly. currently not all fun and games.

--

kazutora dropped the topic and watched as y/n took out a new black mask from her trouser pocket. her previous one was taken off and dropped on the floor back in the warehouse just a few steps away from them, it's probably all dusty and filthy.

"now that I look at you, you sure don't seem all that of a guy" he connected a few dots from before and now and compared her to any other guy. even with the baggy uniform more points clicked in his mind.

"just shut up and leave" she rolled her eyes at his comment but didn't ignore it, 'i should probably try and do more work on my disguise, probably try using make-up or something' even though that's not exactly the main problem.

but he still hadn't left, kazutora still lingered by with more questions. "how long have you been part of the whole thing? and can you even fight?- how are you even still alive?" thought he was more or so mocking her rather than being curious

"long enough, I'm leaving" is all she had to say before turning around and walking off, occasionally would turn her head back to see if he was still there but by the second turn she saw his back walking away in the opposite direction.

she wasn't there to have a little chat, though neither was kazutora, he just wanted to see if he could get something out of her, though y/n was sure not to give too much Information about herself even though the questions he asked weren't all that personal but trust issue always poked at her brain and told her to shut up.

they'll definitely meet again but under different circumstances than before.

 ♡----

[the-fiction-witch]

She's Not Well

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Sweet AF

I stood toiling in the morgue late this evening, I had been overwhelmed with work and had little time to actually get much done, emergency after emergency. But as the sun set below the sky, and the day slowed I headed down to work on a few bodies down in the morgue prepared for burial tomorrow morning. My hands coated in blood as I got on with everything.

I heard the morgue doors open and in stepped a strange but sweet sight. 

A girl.

No older than me, I had never seen her in the hospital or town before, she wore a pair of tall laced black boots, her white frilly bloomers exposed a little as she held her dress so it didn't drag on the floor holding it higher than she likely needed to, a little dress of sky blue and white clearly a very fine expensive dress but strange like it did have other elements many of which seemed to be cut or removed. The dress wasn't loaded with petticoats and crinolines but a gentle glide to her feet much like the nurses wore, with long sleeves. Her hair was in a tight silk braid that was then wrapped around her head in a milkmaid braid, she had a wide smile and I admit... she's kinda cute. 

She came inside and looked over the bodies I had already finished, 

"Uuhh... Can I help you?" I asked her, 

No answer came,

"Hello?" 

No answer came,

"Miss you can't just be in here," I told her,

No answer she smiled at me and sat under the window watching me as she playfully kicked her feet, 

"Uuhh... right..." I explained trying to just get on with my work, "Are you just going to sit here?" 

No answer, 

"Ookay..." I sighed far too busy to wonder what on earth was going on with whoever this girl was, I got on with my work for a good while noticing her as she hopped up and wonders around the morgue looking at my work, investigating the bodies and coming over to my table and looming over me and watching me as I worked, "Hello..."

No answer came and she just watched with a wide egar smile, 

I rolled my eyes and continued ignoring whatever she was doing, I continued with some stitching until I jumped in shock my body freezing up. 

As I stood loomed over the table over the body I was working on, she came around me and wrapped her arms around my waist her hands on my stomach, her cheek rested on my back with a wistful sigh, I was confused but she was warm, and soft and it was nice to have her cuddled with me while I worked. I didn't argue I just kept working while she cuddled me enjoying the cosy feeling. 

"You really cosy back there?" I chuckled, 

No answer came, she just squeezed me tighter, 

"You shouldn't be in here you know, it's not safe for you," I told her, "I know you want to cuddle, and Its very cute and sweet but you need to let go," I told her forcing her arms off,

She let go and came so I could see her, her lip pouting and trembling, her hands together sadly little tears in her eyes as she let out the first sound I had heard from her a little whine of sadness, 

"Ohh... no no it's okay-" I tried to calm her, 

But she just began to silently cry,

"No no please don't cry." I told her, "I didn't mean to upset you miss. I just-"

Her tears only flooded from her eyes down her cheeks,

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry Please don't cry." I told her giving her a cuddle pulling her head into my chest and stroking her hair, "I didn't mean to make you upset, I just want to make sure you are safe. You really shouldn't be in here with me... But If you promise to do as I say you can stay," I told her "Okay?" I offered to pull away to see her face and took her hands, 

she let out a giggle, she took my arm and snuck under my arm so she moved to stand between me and the table, I chuckled a little and wrapped my arms around her so I could still work but I could still hold her, my chin on her shoulder as she watched with enthusiasm. 

"You are a cute little thing," I cooed, "I rather like having you as my little assistant," I told her turning her to face me she smiled resting her hands on my chest, "You know you could go see the head nurse, get a job as a nurse if you're curious? Then you could come and watch and help every day?" 

No answer came, she just giggled and pulled my neck down so our lips met.

I jumped a little but kissed her back tightening my arms around her. 

We stood kissing in the morgue for a good while the only sound of our lips clacking on contact, my hands stroked her dress gently and slowly, and she happily stroked my neck and my hair until we finally pulled back. 

"umm I like you," I growled rubbing my nose on hers, 

She giggled and pulled me back to kiss her, I didn't argue happily kissing her back tempted to just pick her up, sit her on the table and tug up her dress. She pulled back and giggled at me before she began to pepper my face with kisses, 

"You are so cute," I chuckled pushing her back from peppering my face with kisses, "May I have the pleasure of knowing your name miss?"

"Y/N!" A voice yelled, 

She gulped sheepishly before the doors to the morgue were forced open by the professor looking very angry and strangely sober, as soon as he forced the doors open she whined and hid behind me as if I was her shield, her little whines the only sound she made. 

"Y/n! What are you doing here!" He yelled at her, but she only hid more, "Doctor Dawkins I must apologize for... any trouble she caused you."

"It's alright she wasn't any trouble," 

"Forgive her, she knows better." He said half scolding her with his words, "I can only apologize doctor dawkins, Y/n! you are not supposed to leave your room get back up there this instant!" He demanded grabbing her arm and trying to force her away, she whined and broke free from his grip coming and cuddling me tightly not wanting to let me go, 

"Professor it's quite alright, she wasn't any trouble really. She can stay here with me I don't mind." 

"That is very kind of you Doctor Dawkins But I must insist!" he said forcing her away from me, 

"Wait, professor! She doesn't have to go I'm more than happy for her to stay if she wants to," I said but he ignored me,

He kept muttering scolds to her as he forced her out of the morgue into the arms of a passing nurse whom he demanded to take her back to her room, Y/n looked as sad as earlier almost crying she let out a sad little whine and gave me a sad little wave as the nurse forced her away. 

"Forgive my grandaughter Doctor... she... she's innocent really, she doesn't mean any harm but- still I can only apologize for any trouble she caused you." he sighed leaning his arms on the table, 

"She's your granddaughter?" I asked rather surprised, 

"Yes..."

"Well you have nothing to apologize for, she is a very sweet girl and she didn't cause me any trouble at all," 

"Thank you Doctor dawkins but still I must apologize for her... she's..." He began, "She's not well." 

I nodded as I didn't want to push him even if his words worried me, He nodded and turned to the door but stopped shortly before, 

"doctor Dawkins... If you could please in future, if you see her out of her room Please... Do not encourage her."

"Yes sir..." I nodded, 

"She's not well. And it's safer... for everyone for her to be in her room," he said before he headed off leaving me alone. 

I felt rather strange to hear she wasn't well, I wondered what that even meant... but I didn't want to push it. So I got on with my work. 

[jthmreferences]

The headvoices (plus Mr. Samsa!!!)

Doughboys

So, in the first issue there's only one doughboy and it's D-boy. But he looks a bit different from how he looks for the rest of the series. He has long, black sleeves that would be given to Mr. Eff instead in the next issue. I'm not sure if this means that issue 1 takes place before Eff existed (in the bios it says that D-boy is two years older) or what.

For most of the series, D-boy has a white hat with columns of skulls and a black brim. It also has a little creepy face on it. I think this face was a way Jhonen used to sign his initials. He has 'FUCK' on his front, a black scarf, and three thin stripes on his arms with black gloves. He has spiral eyes with tears coming down, his nose has a dot and four squiggles, and his mouth is white with a black tongue.

Though the back cover of issue 2 shows a pile of skulls instead of individual towers.

Eff has a black hat with little ghosts and the brim has vertical stripes. His scarf is white and his front has a stripe and a box that says 'Z?'. He also took the sleeves D-boy had at first. His eyes are blank with a thick outline, arrows pointing away from the face and they're surrounded by squiggles or spikes, like a cartoon sun. He seems to have a pig nose and his mouth has a bunch of lines and may have arrows at the ends. His mouth is black with a white tongue. They both have black feet or shoes or whatever.

They also both have flat backs that are painted. D-boy has a spiral behind his head and Eff has... an arrow?? That would make sense.

When we do see them in color we see that Mr. Eff has purple on his hat and red eyes and scarf. D-boy seems to just be black and white. It seems the same at the end of I Feel Sick except the skulls on D-boy hat are black now. In the recent print Jhonen has changed quite a few things. The biggest thing is that D-boy now has glowing blue eyes to match Eff's red ones. Their hats are also very different. Now D-boy's has one big white skull as the top and Eff has a black skull with the teeth coming all the way down. D-boy has a little frowny face on the brim and Eff has a little smiley face. He also doesn't have the stripes anymore. Eff's front and gloves seem to be a dark green now (or it could just be the lighting or something). D-boy now has just two thicker stripes on his arms and has two squiggles on his nose and now it kind of looks like a mustache.

Reverend MEAT and Mr. Samsa

It looks like Meat and Mr. Samsa were planned to also be doughboys originally. One was named Senor Bondage and it says "the urge to give in to the mentality of being a physical being. Driven by organic whim." This sounds exactly like Meat. The other doughboy, Nil, which means 'nothing', says "The Little Creatures That Live Inside Us--Fashioned by dough or clay, from the things we hope no one can ever see." Not completely sure what that means, but Mr. Samsa IS a little creature.

Anyway, I think Jhonen changed it because he realized it would be really redundant if Johnny came back and once again had two doughboys talking to him. It would feel like nothing had changed. It was an extra good decision to have Mr. Samsa not even be a headvoice, but something Johnny could project his desire on to. Instead of being dragged back and forth by two opposing voices, it's Johnny himself and his desire to be emotionless like Mr. Samsa (which isn't true. bugs have lots of little bug emotions) vs Meat and his desire for Johnny to give in to all of his emotions. This is also shown in the fact that he doesn't trust Meat at all when he thought of the doughboys as his friends.

Reverend MEAT doesn't get a chance to change much. He's able to move around to some extent right away, making his burger disappear and making his eyes blank, like Eff. They also have stitch marks going up from them. His shirt can have different words on it, like Johnny's shirts, and he has sharp teeth and overalls. In I Feel Sick we see that he has red eyes, but then they get changed to a glowing pink. The pattern on his overall might be gone now and they might be red, but it's hard to tell.

Mr. Samsa is an immortal roach (or a series of roaches) and he stays that way. He hasn't shown up in group shots of the headvoices because he doesn't talk and is just a little bug who likes candycorn.

Nailbunny

Nailbunny hasn't changed at all aside from the one big change that happened in the comics. He was a dead bunny with a huge nail in him, but Eff rips his head off and now he's just a floating bunny head. He's blue and can fit on an ice cream cone.

Fetus in a Jar

It had one line in issue one where it distracted Johnny from killing himself by telling him that a funny commercial was on. Usually I would assume it's just some Early Installment Weirdness, but it showed up in a recent print with the other headvoices, so I guess it's canon. Now's it's in some other fluid-filled container and it looks like it was some oddity Johnny bought at a store or something rather than he himself finding a fetus somehow and just putting it in a jar.

[galaxyshine24-7]

Silver Bullet Au🍹

Chapter Three Rose Margarita

Tw: Gang violence, drugs, drinking

“Ace! Oh god, Ace!” Yuu rushes over to his collapsed form having to cover their nose with their sleeve. The smell of blood is so strong it makes them nauseous. Tears start to spill down Yuu’s eyes as they try to remember what to do. Call the ambulance? No, Ace is badly wounded, and what if they don’t come in time? Plus he’s in the Mafia, they don’t do hospitals, so it might get him in more trouble.

Yuu works fast moving Ace as gently as possible getting him inside their apartment upstairs. Ace’s blood drips onto the wooden floors as Yuu hauls him onto a spare bed as they go find the first aid kit in the bathroom. Mozus Trein taught Yuu first aid knowing where they live, you never know when you or someone might need quick stitches. Rushing back to the room Yuu starts to undress Ace to analyze the wounds. He had a stab wound on his side as his body is covered in bruises. What chills Yuu the most however is the burn line that wraps around his neck. Yuu is not oblivious to what goes on in NRC, heck their teachers would warn them about the mafias that run the city. They like to collect youngbloods to fill in the ranks; each mafia is different in how they discipline lower-ranking members. Not to mention the outside dangers from other gangs and mafia groups. Yuu’s teachers have tried their best to prepare Yuu for the harsh world in the sector, but nothing compares to seeing it up close. Ace was bickering with Deuce and laughing over drinks just a few hours ago, and if Yuu hadn’t found him when he did, he might have died.

The area around the bed is covered in bloody wipes and bandages as Yuu does their best to patch him up. Once done they cover Ace with a blanket to let him rest. Yuu steps out of the room looking down at their hands to see them covered in blood. They rush to the bathroom trying to wash off the red substance. Their eyes land on their reflection in the mirror, wide tired eyes look like they’ve seen a ghost. A migraine starts to form making them rub their temples. Yuu needed to focus on another task, they walked into the hall to see the blood stains on the floor. They start by looking for the mop to get it clean. 

“What did Crewel say? Lemon juice washes out blood stains.” Yuu mumbles as they come across a gray bundle curled up by the fireplace. It's the cat from the alley. It's all gray with a fluffy tail and a small black and white ribbon around its neck. It's small and a little chubby, but seems agile enough to get around. Big blue eyes stare back at Yuu as the little cat shakes off the water from the rain outside. The rain is starting to fall hard now as Yuu rushes downstairs to make sure everything is locked. They grab the cleaning supplies and start to get the blood stains from the floor. Yuu loses the passage of time as they work away. When it's done they haul themselves back upstairs for a shower and a change of clothes. The cat sleeps soundly on the couch as Yuu lets out a sigh. 

“If you’re going to stay here you better earn your keep. I better not see any rats around here.” Yuu tells the feline firmly as it opens one of its blue eyes to look at them. It soon yawns rolling over on the couch as Yuu walks away. They check up on Ace to see that he is still breathing. If the condition gets worse Yuu will have no choice but to call an ambulance, but for now, he needs his rest. Yuu goes to wash up and finally slips into bed trying their best to fall asleep.

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

Ace couldn’t remember much after he ran away from the Heartslabyul manor. It's a blur of street lights and speeding cars. However, he never expected to wake up to the smell of pancakes cooking in the kitchen as he lays in a soft bed with a cat staring down at him. 

“What the hell?” Ace exclaims trying to sit up, but his wounds send him back down on the bed. The gray cat kneads into the blanket staring down at Ace letting out a low growl. 

“What are you looking at?” Ace huffs about to move the cat off his chest. 

“Oh, you’re awake.” Yuu peeks their head from around the corner holding a bowl in their hands as they mix the contents inside. 

“Yuu?” Ace questions as he watches them sit on the side of the bed. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Everything hurts like hell. Why am I here?” Ace reaches up to place a hand on his forehead. 

“I found you passed out in the alleyway by the bar. You were in pretty rough shape.” Yuu frowns at the memory. Ace feels the embarrassment start to spread across his body. Did he run all the way here? Why to a bar he only went to once? Many thoughts race through his head as he looks over into Yuu’s warm eyes. They were worried for him, he can’t remember the last time someone worried over him like this. He looks towards the wall feeling the blood rush to his cheeks. 

“You shouldn’t go around picking up random people on the street. Don’t expect me to pay you back for this. I didn’t ask for your help.” He scolds. Yuu lets out a small smile as they stand adjusting the bowl on one side as they pick up the cat with the other hand. 

“You don’t owe me anything, Ace,” Yuu said sincerely. “I’ll bring you some breakfast soon.” Yuu walks over to the door, setting down the cat outside the room as they close the door behind them. Ace tries to lift his head, laying back down at the pain. He really got himself into trouble this time, not even Trey could save him from Riddle's wrath. He closes his eyes for the time being thankful for being alive at least. He settles back down as he lets out a few steady breaths knowing he needs to get his energy back if he’s going to fix this. 

Yuu comes back after a while with a tray of pancakes and eggs for Ace. They help him sit up. Yuu pulls up a chair to sit close to the bed. They tell Ace that Grim; the name they decided for the cat; was eating some tuna by the fireplace. Yuu had to run and get some pet supplies for the little guy early in the morning. 

“He came in when I hauled you upstairs from the dumpster,” Yuu explains. “To be honest without him hissing I don’t know if I would have found you.” 

Ace huffs at the statement, stuffing his face with food.

“The little guy hates me, I can tell.” He grumbles. 

“I think you might have fallen on his home. I went back to the dumpster to make sure you didn’t drop anything and there was a box with ‘need home’ written on it.” Yuu eats from their own plate along with Ace as they enjoy the food with a few minutes of silence. 

“So, what happened?” Yuu speaks up, bringing out the elephant in the room. 

“Mafia stuff you don’t want to get involved with.” He turns away. 

“Is that why you decided to pass out by my bar, to not involve me?” Yuu retorts. Ace glares at them for a good minute before letting out a sigh as he runs his fingers through his hair. 

“I got into a fight with the boss, I stole a tart and the dude completely flipped out. He’s a total tyrant, and throws temper tantrums like a huge baby!-” Ace begins to complain. 

“Hold up your leader did this to you all because of a tart?!” Yuu’s eyes widened.

“Well, I guess the tart was the last straw.” Ace shrugs. Yuu could only stare horrified. Ace freezes at the look they give him 

“But don’t worry about it, he wasn’t going to kill me.” Ace waves it off. “I’ve had worse beatdowns in my life.” 

“What about that burn mark?” Yuu motions to the line all around his neck, like a morbid collar.

“It's from the boss’s unique magic.” Everyone gets punished with it if they step out of line.” Yuu knows about the use of magic by their teachers. It's been around for a long time, but it's hard to harness it and after the incident of Night Raven College it has been used as a drug that grants the user all kinds of benefits, but the aftereffects are horrible. The drug has become a serious problem in the NRC sector as it is used and sold by the thousands. It takes many years for someone to be a master at controlling the drug residue called blot so it doesn’t cause them to overdose. 

Ace’s boss must be very powerful to control magic and even gain unique magic from the drug's use. Yuu reaches over to the nightstand handing Ace some burn cream. 

“Use this if it starts to hurt okay.” Yuu places it next to him. “I gotta open up the bar soon. Will you be okay?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Ace gives them a smirk. “I’m tougher than I look. Just take that weird cat with you.” Ace pouts once Grim peeks his head inside the room once more. Yuu chuckles at that as they finish up with breakfast. Yuu made sure to place their number in Ace’s phone if he needed anything. Having spent so much on surprise circumstances Yuu will have to work extra hours to get by. Crowley’s allowance didn’t last long now that they thought about it. 

Well, all they can do now is get to work. Yuu brings Grim down to the bar so Ace can recover in peace. Grim starts to explore the bar sniffing at the chairs and booths until he finds a cozy spot on a bar stool. Yuu thinks about getting a bed for him to rest on as they open up shop. 

A few people came in during the early hours. It is a slow start to the day, but it gives Yuu a break to sort through their thoughts. The chime of the bell reaches their ears as they put on a small smile. 

“Welcome to the Silver Bullet, what can I get you?-” Yuu stops as they see a familiar mop of blue hair walks into the bar. “Deuce?” Yuu questions their shoulders, tensing a bit as another accompanies him. He wears a clover mark on his cheek showing that he is also a part of Heartslabyul. A hat sits on top of his choppy green hair as he adjusts his glasses giving Yuu a warm smile. 

“Hi Yuu, we’re here for Ace.” Deuce lowers his voice. Yuu raises a brow at the man next to him as Deuce clears his throat. “This is Trey, trust me, he’s a friend.” He explains. Yuu relaxes a bit looking over at Deuce once more. 

“He’s upstairs healing, I found him passed out and beaten up in the alley.” Yuu can’t help but grit their teeth. Deuce and Trey give each other concerned looks as Yuu continues. 

“I don’t know what you all got into, and I don’t want to know. But Ace is in no condition to be moving around right now.” It's a subtle warning to them both, if they truly cared for him they would let him rest. Not drag him back to get beaten up again. 

“I understand, and I actually think it is best that he stays here for a bit,” Trey speaks up much to Yuu’s surprise. “Can we please see him at least?” Yuu thinks for a moment looking around at the empty bar. 

“Fine but I have to accompany you.” Yuu places a rag over their shoulder as they lead the two of them upstairs to see Ace. Grim watches over the bar when Yuu is gone. Trey and Deuce follow them to the apartment without saying a word as Yuu knocks on Ace’s door. 

“Ace, Trey, and Deuce are here to see you.” Yuu hears a shuffle from inside. 

“Bring them in.” Ace answers. Yuu opens the door to find Ace with part of his shirt on as he tries to sit up and move around. 

“Don’t reopen your wounds.” Yuu scolds stepping inside. Trey and Deuce follow immediately, checking Ace to see his condition. Yuu doesn’t miss the sigh of relief that leaves Trey’s throat.

“I’m so glad you're okay. I’m sorry I wasn’t there earlier.” Trey rubs his temple. 

“It's not your fault Trey.” Ace rolls his eyes. 

“Yes it is, I’m Riddle’s right hand. It's my job to take care of everyone, especially in the state he is now.” Trey sighs.

“Well, he needs to figure things out himself instead of taking his anger out on others.” Deuce adds. “All the underlings can do is try not to step on his toes, which is hard to do with all the rules,” Deuce explains.  

“It's just his way of doing things.” Trey takes a deep breath. 

Yuu leans against the wall watching the scene before them. They will never understand this whole mafia business. Yuu’s disdain for people throwing their life away to join those groups always causes a sinking feeling in their stomachs. They can only hope to find a place away from all this in the future. With a sigh, Yuu knocks on the wall to get their attention. 

“I need to head back down to the bar. I’ll give you guys some privacy.” Yuu lets out a sigh. 

“Thank you, Yuu.” Deuce straightens up bowing to them. “For everything.” 

Yuu nods as they walk out of the room, closing the door. 

As Yuu makes their way down the stairs the sound of a voice reaches their ears. 

“Aren’t you a pretty kitty? Come on smile for Cay-Cay.” A man with bright orange hair. Yuu gives him a confused look as he’s snapping many pictures of Grim on the barstool. Grim however looks ready to claw the man’s eyes out.

“Um, can I help you?” 

“Oh hey there.” The man flashes a bright smile at Yuu. He leans against the counter looking Yuu up and down. Grim saw the first opportunity to escape somewhere else in the bar. 

“You the owner of this bar?” He straightens out his jacket.

“No, but I work here. What can I get you?” Yuu goes behind the counter as the man takes a seat. 

“A virgin spicy mango margarita please.” He places his head in his hands. Yuu starts to get to work making his drink trying to take their mind off the trio upstairs. 

“So what’s your name?” 

Yuu glances up at the man as he gives them an award-winning smile, but it seems like an act to them. Sam would teach them about the facial expressions of people. The man in front of them has a fake smile. A smile that makes people uncomfortable if they knew the truth behind it, but on the surface, it's as warm as can be.  

“Yuu.” They answer bluntly. 

“My name is Cater Diamond. Nice to meet you.” He outstretches his hand to Yuu as they slide his drink in front of him. Yuu raises a brow at him as they take it. 

“Excuse me for being too forward, but would you like to go on a date with me sometime? You are just two cute, I know a few cafes you would love.”

Yuu stands there with wide eyes as blood rushes to their cheeks. It caught them so off guard that they didn’t see Trey coming down the stairs. Trey stops, looking at the scene in front of him.

“I’m I interrupting something?” He laughs nervously. Yuu takes their hand away from Cater, turning to Trey. 

“No.” They turn around going to clean some of the other glasses. Yuu just now noticed the diamond under his eye. Another Heartslaybul member, it's like their bar is a magnet for them now. 

“Hey Trey, I've been looking everywhere for you.” Cater places a hand on Trey’s shoulder pulling him off to the side to whisper something to him. Yuu goes back to tending the bar. They can see the emotions flash through Trey’s eyes as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “So now our dear Queen is very pissed, and we have no place to hold the negotiation meeting.” Cater finishes as Trey takes some time to think. That’s when Trey’s eyes meet Yuu’s. They should have known when Trey and Cater flashed them that nervous smile something was up. “Yuu I know you might have a lot on your plate, but could we use this bar as a base for negotiations? We need a place in neutral territory and our previous place is… no longer available.” Trey asks. 

Yuu raises a brow as they clean up a glass. 

“I don’t want my bar overrun with gang activity.” They state firmly. 

“Of course, we wouldn’t dream of causing your establishment any trouble.” Cater smiles waving the thought away. 

“It will just be for tonight, and we will pay you handsomely for doing this favor.” Trey ensures. Yuu couldn’t argue with a good paycheck, they need it right now with another mouth to feed. Plus it will be interesting to meet this infamous Queen everyone keeps talking about.

“Fine, but only for tonight, and you must make sure Ace doesn’t get hurt.” Yuu glares at Trey. 

“Absolutely, I’ll make sure Ace is not harmed. You saved our skins, believe me.” He sighs in relief. 

“It seems you Heartslabyul guys need a lot of saving as of late.” Yuu places down the glass crossing their arms. Cater and Trey can only laugh at that statement as Yuu huffs going to check the inventory in the back. 

As the day goes on Trey and Cater head back to the gang's headquarters, as Deuce stays to look after Ace and help Yuu with bar duties. Yuu made sure the bar looked presentable, setting up a table on the upper level with enough privacy for this negotiation meeting. As the sun starts to go down many people start to come in for a drink. It created a good amount of white noise for Yuu as they made drinks and bus tables. In the late hours of the night, Deuce comes down the stairs in a hurry. 

“He’s coming.” He tells Yuu going to stand outside and wait for his gang. Yuu takes a deep breath mentally preparing themselves for this encounter. They had finger foods and trays of drinks already laid out in the seating area as Heartslubyal members started flooding in like soldiers lining up in a straight line. The lights are dimmed slightly as they illuminate the faces in the bar. Trey and Cater open the front door as a silence passes through the building. The sound of heels clicking against pavement makes itself known as a shadow comes into view. Yuu tilts their head to get a glimpse at this gang leader as he steps into the establishment. He was short in stature, but his presence was one of authority. His red hair is done perfectly and his suit is crisp and clean, not a spot out of place. His eyes are a sharp bluish-gray as he glances in my direction. I could only stand there cleaning glass as he walked past. A small huff escapes his lips as he walks up the stairs with Trey and Cater at his sides. Deuce comes up from behind with the rest of the gang members as they take their seats elsewhere on standby. Deuce sits at the bar by Yuu taking a deep breath, sweat spilling from his forehead. Yuu passes him a cup of water. He gives them and thankfully nods, as it now turned into a waiting game for the other side to come in. Yuu made sure there was enough food and drink for everyone, they took notice that the sweets are more favored when it comes to Riddle. The gang leader finished off a single plate by himself. Yuu can’t help but smile a little at that as they clear off the table.

“Something amusing?” Yuu stops and so does everyone else in the vicinity. 

“No sir.” They answer, picking up the plate. Riddle stares down at them from his seat, his eyes following their every move. 

“Funny I could have sworn I saw a smile on your face.” He looks towards his empty glass sipping at the last bit of its contents. “It seems I’ve finished another glass. Our friends are very late.” He states. Yuu can feel the tension in the room starts to thicken. 

“Here Riddle.” Trey takes out a bottle of sparkling cider from the table, going to pour it again into Riddle’s glass, but his leader's hand stops him. 

“Bartender, I would like you to make me a drink.” Riddle smiles.

“What would you like sir?” 

“Surprise me, but be sure I like it or else.” He frowns glaring daggers at Yuu. 

“Here Riddle let me-” Trey speaks up. 

“No Trey I need you here to keep me updated on our friends. Hopefully, this bartender can make up for their rundown establishment with their service.” He crosses his legs. Yuu knows it would be in their best interest to not piss this guy off, but his arrogance picks at their patience. Not to mention the terrible state that Ace is in, is all because of this guy. Yuu places a tight smile on their face, as Riddle raises his brow. 

“Of course.” The eyes follow Yuu’s motion as they curtsy. “Your majesty.” Yuu makes their way back down the stairs before he can say anything. Now they just have to make a drink that's better than ever so they don’t lose their head.

Yuu took notice of how Riddle has a sweet tooth, and that Trey chose to give him a cider instead of a wine, he must not be of drinking age yet. Not to mention Ace brought up that he stole a tart. So with the information, Yuu as they whip up a sweet rose virgin margarita. Yuu makes sure it has a bit more sugar than the recipe calls just for Riddle as they bring it up on a simple tray. Deuce watches them pass up the stairs his hands clutching to his sides.  

“Here is your drink sir.” Yuu places the glass in front of Riddle and carefully eyes it. With the snap of his fingers, two gang members stand side by side with Yuu. So they couldn’t escape it seems Trey can only look on with worry as Riddle takes a small sip. It moves in slow motion as Riddle’s eyes widen and his face softens a great bit. 

“Hm, this is rather good.” He takes another sip as the whole room lets out a collective sigh. 

“Your skills very much make up for your decor bartender.” He waves the guards off as they go back to their stations. 

“Thank you-

“Okay where is he!” A young thug bursts into the bar with a few of his friends as he looks around at the establishment. He spits out his cigar stomping on it to put it out. “There he is, hey Rosehearts sorry we got here late had a party across town.” He walks up the stairs taking a seat across Riddle as his friends sit beside him moving Yuu out of the way. 

“Hey, sweetness mind grabbing us a few beers.” The main thug orders as Yuu returns to the bar to get their drinks. This won’t end well anyone could see that. The Heartslaybul members are already tensing up. Yuu finds Grim on the bar stool as they safely place the cat in the safe room behind the bar. Yuu brings up the drinks quickly as the thug rambles off to Riddle, who is just sipping the beverage Yuu made him.

“So I don’t think we’ll be able to sell our territory with what you offered.” He takes a long chug of bar letting out a large burp. Yuu cringes at the sight, but still, Riddle remains silent. 

“We already adjusted the deal several times.” Trey piped up. 

“Shut up four eyes I’m talking to your shorty of a leader here!” He snaps at Trey. 

Cater grabs onto Yuu’s shoulder having them step back a fair distance away. 

Riddle stands taking one last sip of his drink. In a split second, he pulls the thug by the collar smashing the glass right on his head. 

He lets out a loud scream as everybody stands in attention, any bystanders rush out the door trying to not get caught in the crossfire. His friends pull out guns, but they explode with a snap of Riddle’s fingers. 

“I’ve heard just about enough of you lot!” He outstretches his hand towards them as fire shoots from his fingertips. Red veins grow from his neck and eyes as collars made of fire wrap around the thugs' necks. 

Cater places his hands over Yuu’s eyes as Trey covers their ears. It only seemed like a few minutes before they let Yuu hear and see again. Burn marks stand where the thugs once were as Riddle dusts himself off. 

“Change of plans Trey start the preparations to add new territory to the Heartslaybul district. We will be taking it by force this time around.” Trey nods as Riddle heads down the stairs. 

“Thank you bartender for letting us use your establishment on such short notice. Heartslaybul will cover any damages that took place in a timely manner.” Riddle straightens out his gloves as his members stand in attention holding the door for him. Yuu follows Cater and Trey down the stairs as they say their goodbyes. 

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve probably introduced myself.” Riddle stops turning around fully to greet Yuu. “The name is Riddle Rosehearts see to it that you remember.” He turns around again looking over his shoulder one last time. 

“For you will be seeing me more often.”        

Inspired by @jackplushie Silver Bullet au                   

[pickledpascal]

New Perspective

Chapter Seven: I'm Not Your Friend (Damn)

Warnings: jarpad being a bitch again, transphobia, alcohol, smut, oral sex, could be seen as drunk sex?? not really tho

Word Count: 3.4k

New Perspective Masterlist

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

@ deanswiftie: no but why IS jensen in charlotte… tf??

Reply to @ deanswiftie by @ lesbiandean: yeah i don’t think there’s any cons unless he’s there for filming?

Reply to @ deanswiftie by @ pickledpascal: have we considered the possibility he’s getting ass

Reply to @ pickledpascal by @ deanswifite: AVERY HUH??

Avery designated Friday as the night they'd go out. She got dressed up in a loose navy sweater, a long black skirt paired with white socks and matching navy loafers. It seemed she had a shoe for every occasion. So did Jensen. Except he didn't have full access to his closet. He wore a simple leather jacket that had silver accents around the sleeve and down the front—underneath was a black long-sleeved shirt—a pair of dark-washed jeans, and some deep brown boots. Jensen didn't know exactly where they were going, just that it was a bar, so he decided to dress accordingly. 

Jensen blew on his recently black-painted nails. Avery was bored earlier since she didn’t have anything to do so she decided it would be fun to treat Jensen to a bit of a spa day. She painted his nails, they did a face mask together, and he watched her do her eyeliner for the night. It made his chest swell.

Avery whistled when she saw Jensen in his outfit. "Hope you're ready for a million horny college kids trying to flirt with you." She joked. Though it was likely going to happen. 

Jensen wrapped an arm around Avery's waist, bringing her close. "I know how to let people down. Especially considering my beautiful girlfriend is gonna be with me." He pressed a kiss to her cheek as he heard a clinging of keys. 

The pair made their way outside the house to the driveway that housed Avery's car. A 1965 Ford Mustang convertible with a soft top and white-rimmed wheels in electric blue. How the hell had he not noticed it before? It was a beauty of a car. He looked up at Avery bewilderment in his eyes. The more time he spent with Avery, the more she seemed less human and more human at the same time.

"I got it for a cheap price. Got my brother to fix it up for me." Avery explained as they got in. She had a feeling Jensen was a bit confused as to why someone like her would have such an old car. "It rides like a brand new car." 

The inside had white upholstery with matching electric blue stitching and a modern-looking radio in the middle, an outlet to use the aux. The Mustang logo was stitched onto a part of the dash. The gear stick was made with bright red leather and had a few hair ties around it. Funnily enough, the rearview mirror had a pair of black fuzzy dice hanging from it. Jensen almost felt transported back to the '60s. 

"Your brother?" Jensen asked as Avery started up the car with a roar. He knew she had other family besides just her parents but she never really talked about them. 

Avery bit the inside of her cheek, hair blowing from the wind as she drove but the wall of glass in front of them shielded her from most of it. "Yeah. He's the only family member I keep in contact with. He lives up in Charlotte though. Corporate job. But one of his favorite pastimes is fixing up cars, selling them. He wants to be the next Jay Leno or something, I swear." She chuckled. 

Jensen smiled softly. He wondered if he'd ever meet her brother. Being the only family member she liked had to mean something. Or maybe her brother was like a friend she'd text hello to whenever he crossed her mind and that was it. He looked outside at the city of Columbia at night. It felt more akin to a real city at night. With the twinkling lights of high-up buildings and hoards of people walking around downtown.

Avery parked on the side of the street and locked the car as she and Jensen got out. She put her keys in her bag before she intertwined her hand with Jensen's to lead him into the bar.

It was a hole-in-the-wall kind of bar like most college bars were except it felt less juvenile. Like it was tailored more towards the upperclassmen and not Freshmen who just wanted to get drunk every night of the week. A wall of dollar bills was behind the bar with little notes written in sharpie or pen, there was a small dance floor surrounded by tables, and speakers on the walls playing whatever pop music was on the radio. 

Avery led Jensen to the bar top and sat down. "Hey, Andrés." She greeted one of the bartenders with familiar eyes. 

"Hey, babe." After a little while, Jensen grasped that saying 'babe' was common among friends of Avery's age. "Why you here when you clearly got a tall drink of water?" They glanced at Jensen with a flirtatious—but not lustfully—charged look. 

Avery shook her head. "It's his first time in Columbia. Didn't want to only show him my house." 

"If I were you, I'd keep him there." Andrés laughed. "What're you drinking?" He turned to Jensen.

Jensen blinked at the question, simply enjoying their interactions. "I'll take a rum and coke for now." The response was in a bit of a panic but he did genuinely like rum and coke. Plus it's been a little while since he had some sort of cocktail, he's been drinking just beer for months.

Avery hummed when Andrés got to making their drinks. He already knew her order. A gin and tonic with a splash or two of grenadine to give the drink some semblance of flavor besides just alcohol. Whether or not she came here for the alcohol was a mystery to Jensen. She said she wasn't much of a drinker, even during weekends or after a big exam. Maybe she just wanted to come to see a friend. 

"You come here often?" Jensen asked, cursing at himself at how corny that line was. But he wanted to know.

Avery pursed her lips, trying her best not to smile. It was corny. That's what made it funny. "Once a month or so, just to see some friends," She answered honestly. "Or to pick up some friends." Jensen gave her a questioning look. "I do have other friends outside my roommates." She teased softly. "He's just busy being in the nursing school which doesn't give him a lot of time to hang out. Unless it's one AM and bars are open." 

Jensen chuckled softly. He knew Avery had more friends than he'd met but her and her roommates seemed so close that he nearly forgot. There was a whole population of college kids and she just so happened to know some of them. "Does he go on a bender a lot?" He asked as Andrés handed them their drinks before he went to attend to some other patrons.

"Nah. Only when school really gets to him." Avery took a sip of her drink and sighed contentedly. 

Jensen's finger tapped against his glass before he took a sip from his drink. His phone went off and he glanced at Avery apologetically as he answered it without checking the caller ID. "Yello?" He hummed, causing Avery to let out a laugh. He answered the phone like a middle-aged man but what else could she expect? He was one. 

"Hey, Jay." Jared's voice filtered through to Jensen's ear. Avery watched as Jensen's face hardened. He hadn't talked to Jared since ChiCon and he wasn't too keen on having another conversation with him. "How've you been?" 

Jensen humored him. "Fine." But not too much. 

"Look," Jared sighed. "People are gonna know soon. They know where you are. Or have a general idea. I'd let her go now." 

Jensen narrowed his eyes. What the hell was he insinuating? "Know what, Jared?" 

"They're bound to find out Avery's trans. They're gonna speculate. Make up lies." Jared explained as if he was just looking out for his friend. It was true a lot of fans found Avery's Instagram but she didn't have anything in particular about her being trans, it was mostly just pictures of her and friends with a few mentions of being queer but that was the extent of it. "I know you're not gay but who knows? Fans might think so." 

Jensen had to close his eyes to digest his shock. And here he thought he might have a chance of having a normal conversation. That hope died. "I can confidently say I don't fucking care if people think I take it up the ass. Some of them already do. And so what if I like girl dick? There's a clear difference. Because she's a fucking girl." Avery slapped a hand over her mouth from surprise. She had to suppress her laugh. 

"That doesn't matter here—" Jared started.

"Yes it does." Jensen sighed, rubbing his forehead slightly. Talking with Jared was aging sometimes. "Fans do talk but I think a majority of them want me to be happy. Which I thought you wanted too. Not so sure anymore." He admitted softly. Jared had been his best friend for years and it felt bittersweet that he was on the verge of breaking that. "You want me to be happy on your terms. A normal, "real" girl. Sorry to say it, bud, but Avery is a real girl just with extra parts." He hung up and shot the rest of his cocktail down his throat. Strangely, it was the carbonation of the coke that burned the most. 

Avery watched Jensen, sliding her hand over his on the bar top. "You don't need to fuck up your life just for me, y'know?" She said seriously. 

Jensen shook his head at Avery and tried to joke, "Wait 'til you meet my family then we'll see if I actually fuck up my life." Avery's face went serious. He realized the joke was in bad taste. "Sorry." He coughed, collecting himself. "I didn't mean that. If they don't like you just for who you are, they weren't meant to be in my life anyway. I don't care who might talk shit about me at Thanksgiving dinner." 

Avery gave him a look of doubt. Family was important to a lot of people and she assumed Jensen was the same.

Feeling a surge of confidence likely from the alcohol, Jensen pressed a kiss to her cheek and whispered in her ear, "Do you want me to show you just how serious I am?" 

"What…" Avery rasped as the realization hit her. "I–" She wanted Jensen so badly and he returned the feeling but there was a difference in wanting to be intimate and actually doing the act. She feared that would change for Jensen. "Let's go home."

Jensen glanced around the bar and spotted a few college kids watching them. With their phones out. He cupped Avery's cheek and kissed her. Her lips tasted like gin with some sweetness of the grenadine. He liked it. Jensen deepened the kiss, feeling drunker off her than his drink. Avery let out a noise of surprise, bracing herself with a hand on his thigh. 

Avery pulled away slightly, suddenly feeling very aware they were in public. "Jensen…" She whispered as she admired the redness of his lips and the way his eyes darkened at the sound of her voice. "Home." She reminded him softly.

Jensen nodded as he stood, taking out his wallet to place a few twenties on the counter. Avery glanced from the cash to Jensen and had to reboot her brain to remember that she was in love with a rich man. Maybe Elena's comment about him being akin to a sugar daddy was true. Avery followed after Jensen, taking a glance at Andrés just to see him wink from behind the bar. 

The drive back home was tense. Jensen's heart was beating fast, his face felt hot even though the wind was blowing around him. But he strangely felt calm. On the other hand, Avery was incredibly nervous. It's been a while since she'd been with anyone intimately. She wasn't scared. Well. Maybe a little bit. 

As soon as Avery opened the door to the house, Jensen started to press kisses to her neck. He snuck his hand underneath Avery's sweater as she let out a sigh, guiding them into her room before they went any further. She sat down on the bed, pushing off her shoes and socks as Jensen shouldered off his jacket and shirt. Avery looked up at him and shamelessly appreciated his body.

"Your turn." Jensen whispered with a light smirk, lifting Avery's top from her chest. She let him. He ran a hand down her bare side, taking in the sight of her in a bra and the soft muscle on her torso. "You're beautiful." He leaned forward to press kisses to her jaw, grazing her skin with his teeth. 

Avery breathed. "Jensen… What…" She didn't want to ruin the mood by asking what he planned on doing. As much as Jensen expressed he was fine with being the bottom and what came with being the bottom, Avery still had her doubts.

Jensen had a feeling she'd feel that way. He lowered himself between Avery's legs, getting on his knees. He ran a hand up her thigh to grab the elastic band of her skirt and pulled it down her legs. "I'm gonna suck your dick." He said as if it was his mission to. 

Avery swallowed thickly, her face felt hot. Jensen was between her legs and stared at her like he was going to consume her. In a way, he was. "Okay." Her breath was soft. Accepting. He was so determined Avery's heart started to pound in her chest. She widened her legs, giving Jensen more space. 

At the admission, Jensen slipped his fingers under Avery's plain black underwear as he buried his face in her solid stomach and pressed a few kisses to her sternum. A breathy laugh left her lips. So she was ticklish there? He pulled her underwear down and threw it off to the side so her bottom half was completely bare. Jensen took in the sight of her dick then glanced up at Avery who was watching for his reaction. 

Jensen kept eye contact with her as he wrapped a hand around Avery's dick and began to stroke it slowly. After eliciting a whine from her lips is when Jensen gave her an experimental lick. Avery ran a hand through his hair, brushing a few stray strands away from his face. 

One would think Jensen was put off by handling a dick that wasn't his own but he truly didn't care that much. He kind of liked it. As long as it was Avery. What she was packing didn't matter. 

After a few more small licks and kisses, Jensen took her in his mouth. The weight was strange but warm. He liked it. Especially the way Avery let out another light whimper and admired the way his lips wrapped around her cock. "Honey…" She sighed. "You look good like this." Something in her had to say it.

Jensen hummed, sending shivers down Avery's spine. After simply having her in his mouth, Jensen started to move his head. The eye contact was starting to get to Avery. She bunched her sheets in one hand while the other tangled in Jensen's hair. He liked that too. The sight of her losing more and more patience, looking wrecked and hot. But she never pushed. Just let Jensen work. 

He swallowed Avery down to the base of her dick, swirling his tongue. Jensen was suddenly very glad he didn't have a gag reflex. 

"Fuck." Avery whined, griping Jensen's hair harder. "Good boy." A slip of her tongue.

Jensen nearly choked, surprised that he liked being called that. But then again past him would probably be far more surprised he was sucking a girl's cock. With a new wave of arousal, Jensen bobbed his head faster. 

"You liked that, huh?" Avery moaned softly. She didn't expect an answer given his mouth was a little busy. She swallowed down a whine as she drew in a sharp breath. "Ah… I-I think I'm close." 

Jensen felt excited. Almost giddy. He let go of Avery's dick from his mouth with a light pop and placed a soft kiss on the tip. His lips were swollen and glistening with his own saliva. Avery's fingers twitched at the sight. He stroked her faster, opening his mouth to stick out his tongue. Jensen wanted to taste her cum and perhaps get a little on his face.

Avery could tell what he wanted and imagined what he'd look like for a second. Her brain stopped at the stimulation between Jensen stroking her dick and the images in her mind. "God, fuck–" Her eyebrows furrowed as her face contorted into pleasure. "Faster, please." 

Jensen complied, planting his tongue on her shaft. Seemingly, that was all it took for Avery to orgasm. Like he wanted, Jensen caught some cum in his mouth while some dripped from his face. She tasted a bit salty but mostly sweet. He pressed his tongue against her slit to lick up every last drop then pressed a few kisses to her shaft. He didn't miss the satisfied look Avery gave him. 

"You look…" Avery had to catch her breath as she let go of his hair and wiped a few drops off the side of his cheek and some in his beard. "Absolutely fucked."

Jensen's tongue peeked from between his teeth, resting his head against Avery's thigh. He liked the way her chest rose and fell. "I think I am." He mumbled. He was still pretty hard but his brain was fried. He wasn't sure if he'd be conscious if they did decide to do anything else that night.

Avery tilted his chin upward. "We need to get you cleaned up." She whispered. She wanted to see Jensen like this all the time. Perhaps that was a little selfish to think knowing the sight was exclusive to her. 

Jensen licked his lips, catching a drop on his tongue. "That sounds like a good idea." He moved to sit on the bed as Avery found and pulled up her underwear. He appreciated the curve of her ass as she bent down. 

"I'm gonna grab a hand towel." Avery hummed softly. 

Jensen watched her leave and unbuttoned his jeans to add them to his pile of clothes. He hadn't slept next to Avery in just her lingerie before. He wondered how he'd handle the skin-to-skin contact. Soon, Avery came back with a damp rag and gently wiped his face. 

"There." Avery smiled softly. Her heart swelled with love. She couldn't believe what just happened. Jensen was good at head. She dropped the rag in with her laundry. "Out of curiosity… where did you learn how to—"

"Suck dick?" Jensen asked with amused eyes. "Dunno. Sometimes things just come naturally to me." He shrugged. "Especially with the way you sounded… I knew I was doing something right." 

Avery and Jensen laid in bed, legs tangled together. "You really are something." Avery couldn't believe just how loving—giving—he was. Her mind slipped back to their conversation a few nights ago. She wondered how much he could receive too. 

Jensen nuzzled his face into Avery's neck. He knew she liked the feel of his beard against her skin and he liked the way she would cradle the back of his head when he fit his face between her neck and shoulder. "What can I say? You bring out the best in me." He said it teasingly but he meant every word. 

Avery wrapped her arms around Jensen's waist and let out a happy sigh. She didn't want him to leave. She liked being with him. She liked the way he interacted with her friends. She liked meeting his friends. It was all so perfect. A wash of melancholy overtook her. But then there was a wave of excitement.

Halloween was tomorrow. And Avery and Jensen were going as Barbie and Ken.

-----

taglist: @nancymcl

taglist form here !!!

[silvernyxchariot]

Happy Valentine's Day. . .

Oh shit. Oh no. It's past Valentine's Day for most timezones and I didn't get to work on this until last minute. Very sad, anyway./s Prosciutto won the roulette so you're getting a Prosciutto one-shot. *insert extra feral Ghiaccio here because the wheel actually stopped on him but I forgot I wrote one for him earlier* No! You already got a one-shot! You got your chance!

Synopsis: Prosciutto trying to make amends with a gift but I also like torturing him, GN!Reader x Prosciutto, SFW

⚠️TW: profanity, blood, and death⚠️

WC: 1,608 words

Rain fell heavily on Prosciutto's shoulders. Pesci and the target were nowhere to be found. "Fuck," the target got away and he was in no shape to follow them. Guess it was up to Pesci, not that Prosciutto had zero faith in the boy. He just wanted to see his partner butcher their target. Prosciutto's hair was disheveled and falling around his neck. He wiped the blood from the side of his face using the sleeve of his black suit. His yellow collared shirt and the white lines of his blazer were stained red. "Switch targets," they said. "It'll be a good learning experience for Pesci," they said," he murmured to himself. He shouldn't have taken teaching advice from Gelato and Sorbet. It turned out this target was a Stand user.

Prosciutto looked around to be sure he wasn't being followed. Grey buildings, gloomy sky, darkness at every corner, and some homeless dog wandering around, "Get off me!" He wasn't having it today and shrugged the dog away from his leather shoes. The only thing he could hear was the shower of rain on the cement. The alleys were clear, but his head was not. His mind started to become foggy from blood loss and his lips started to turn blue from the cold night. He couldn't think properly. Right now, Prosciutto could only think of survival. He thought of grabbing some string, needles, bandages, whatever he could get because he was not going to a damn hospital. There would be too many questions.

He removed his suit blazer and wrapped it around his elbow to smash open the window of a nearby door. More blood poured out from the slash at his side and Prosciutto pressed his blazer down onto it to stop the bleeding. He grimaced and looked down as he unlocked the door to see the skin of his calf barely hanging on. The place seemed empty and the warmth from the inside of the building made him shudder from the sudden temperature change. He leaned against the wall and his breathing was labored as he made his way to the bathroom. The light flickered on with a loud buzzing sound when he flipped the switch. It was fairly well kept with some jewelry, two different deodorants, and two toothbrushes around the sink. After limping his way to the sink, he slid down on the ground with an audible thud and squelch from his wounds. He started digging through the cabinet underneath. "Dental floss, some syringe needles, and towels..." it wasn't much, but damn was this bathroom barren. He'd have to stitch himself up somehow.

The dental floss stung as he laced it through his skin. He double-checked the other wound on his calf. With the depth of both wounds, he was lucky it was only skin and a bit of flesh. If Pesci hadn't knocked him off his feet with Beach Boy, the enemy's Stand would have sliced him clean in half. "This'll have to do," he glared at himself in the bathroom mirror, "I have to find that bastard before we lose him entirely." He pulled out a watch from the chest pocket of his blazer.

12:22. . .

He needed to get this done and fast. Although light-headed and hardly able to walk, Prosciutto pulled his hair into a low ponytail with what few hairbands he had left before heading for the door. He limped each step of the way and shifted his weight to his good leg. He turned the doorknob and opened the front door just a few centimeters before it was slammed into him with the weight of a full-grown man on the other side. He grunted and felt his stitches strain to stay together. The two men slammed against the living room wall and through the pieces of the destroyed door, Prosciutto came face to face with Pesci and Beach Boy. "Pesci! What are you doing?!"

"Big Bro!?" They stared at each other for a moment until they heard Beach Boy's clicking and saw the line undulating. The target was fleeing.

"What the fuck ARE YOU Doing?! Reel them in!"

Pesci leaned back and pulled his Stand closer to him while turning the spinning reel. It was an arduous task and Pesci was sweating bullets. Prosciutto pushed his partner to the side, ducked around Beach Boy, and followed the line out the door. It looked like the line caught on something. Lo and behold, their target, a seemingly lanky man but with enough strength to match Risotto's punches, was desperately holding a dumpster like the worthless little shit he was. Prosciutto swept his hair back with one hand. He didn't have his gun at the moment, so he summoned Grateful Dead.

Prosciutto stared down at the man with cold yet furious eyes. "Stop whimpering. It's your fault for attacking us first." The Eldrich-like creature of a Stand, although affected by its user's injuries and moving sluggishly for them, latched onto the man's legs and drained the life from his body as it aged him. Each of its green and yellow eyes held a silent rage in them and it glared down at the man with a suffocating intensity. Prosciutto watched as a once youthful and vibrant face was contorted in fear and withered into bones. Slowly, due to the chilling night and running around, the man lost all his strength.

He sighed in relief and nudged the fishing line with his foot, "Pesci, bring it back. We're done here." Beach Boy's line pulled back as Prosciutto made his way to his junior. Grateful Dead closed its eyes and dissipated from sight. Around the corner, Pesci grinned and celebrated triumphantly. Seeing his partner's joy, made Prosciutto smirk ever so slightly. Not enough for the other hitman to notice though.

Prosciutto looked up to the sky where the clouds had given the moon permission to peek through. The harsh rain had subsided but still sprinkled down every so often. The blonde man pulled out his pocket watch again. 12:54. The base would be silent at this time as everyone else either had plans in the red district or was asleep, he thought to himself. Prosciutto and Pesci made their way to their shared vehicle. Despite his battered state, Prosciutto insisted on driving. He had the keys after all.

The ride back to the base was silent. Prosciutto rolled his eyes as Pesci knocked out almost immediately. "You're too soft." Almost immediately after reaching the base in Naples, the blonde man shuffled Pesci out of the car and started rolling away as if he needed somewhere else to be, but Pesci didn't question it and made his way inside the base. The younger man figured he'd start the report for his big bro after a nice nap.

At 01:34, you were woken up by a banging on the back door. Getting up off the couch, you yawned and stretched before sliding on your house slippers. You groggily walked over to the door where the incessant banging continued. If this had been a normal visit from someone, you wouldn't have had a problem with it. But at this hour, when everyone should be asleep or celebrating the night with their lovers? It made you on edge. Before even placing your hand on the door, you pulled out a revolver from a nearby drawer and pulled back the hammer. You unlocked the door during the split second in between knocks and stepped back. "Who is it?!" You didn't really care for an answer and aimed directly at the silhouette's head when it entered. Unfortunately, when you pulled the trigger, the shadow was much faster than you.

"It's me!" Prosciutto held your arms in his hands and slid them down to meet yours. He pulled the revolver from your grasp and turned on the light. He was a mere breath away from your face. Prosciutto steadily released the hammer and it clicked back into place, "If you're going to use a gun, shoot. Don't ask "who is it"."

After hearing the scruffy voice of your boyfriend, your body relaxed and a large ear-to-ear grin formed on your face. "Who's "me" though?" you asked and received a flick to the forehead. You thought it was cute but you guessed he didn't. "Welcome back," you said and enveloped his torso in your arms. He was still a little damp. From being outside in the rain, you thought, but the extra scent of iron told you otherwise. "Let's fix up your wounds, mkay?" Prosciutto's eyes softened as he ushered you deeper into the house. He closed and locked the door behind him before you pulled him to your shared bathroom.

"Before that," he tucked the revolver into his belt, "that's mine." And then, he dug into the pocket of his trousers to pull out what seemed to be a large brooch. It was silver and black but the small diamonds made a web pattern with a little purple arachnid on the edge. "You said my suit looked like a spider web. So, I got you something to match."

Prosciutto placed the brooch in your waiting hands as you looked on in adoration. "Wait, are these real diamonds?" It was a rhetorical question. Of course he'd be able to get something like this easily. You turned the brooch over in your hands to inspect it while Prosciutto sat down at the edge of the bathtub and started to expose his wounds. They had barely managed to stay together this entire time.

He gave you a tired smile. "Yeah. I picked it up on my last hit."

────────── · · · · ✦

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✧

I think I had a little too much fun having Prosciutto suffer from his wounds.

Tbh, that clock app kept pushing tarot reading vids to me, specifically for "love and relationships" VDay and all that yk, so I thought "why not." The reading I used as a reference was about "someone with heavy burdens remembering how valuable you are to them and how they don't want to lose you" and how "you are this person's precious sunshine." Cheesy, but it made this prompt with Hitmen all the more fun.

[minusgangtime]

Scientist log: the spook cafe gang

Teal: found another group of creatures,this time they were a pair of two demons,a werewolf,a vampire and a..swamp monster I guess. For the first demon,teal,I wanted to make him something equally as vial,so I had my assistant make him look like a zombie,several stitch marks were sewn onto his body,his shoulders were removed to expose his bones,though you can’t see it cause of his long sleeves,though the stitches seem to have caused his skin or furr to become paler,apart from crying a bit in the beginning,nothing seems to have changed.

Mangus: he in particular almost bit my assistant from self defense,but she was able to catch him. I got a bit creative with him,I made him into a multi link. First,my assistant ended up attaching three tail like metal wires onto his back,the two smaller ones are tucked under his shirt while he uses the big one as a third arm. Then I had her add elements to him,fire,water,ice and poison,my assistant injected all theses elements based chemicals into his skin,this caused his arms and legs to become irritated,turning a light shade of red,blue,white and purple,but again,since he’s wearing long clothes,you can’t see it. This gave him to power to control and manipulate these elements even giving others a poisonous bite if he wanted to,however,there was a cost,the amount of chemicals and magic in his system caused his eyes to go black with his pupils glowing a light red,as well as them bleeding he also got a much more intense hunger,revenging any food he could get his hands on,maybe that’s how he became so fat,for a while he appeared to have lost his vision,however,my assistant readjusted his glasses so that he could see again,as they had broken when he was captured,she says that before,he looked really hostile toward her,hissing at her,but when she put on his readjusted glasses,he stopped,she says that he looked stunned,what did that fatso see in her,kindness? HA! Not that anyone would be kind to her.

Pico: with this swamp monster,I decided to make him a monster that does belong in a swamp,my assistant sawed off his legs and replaced them with a snail like tail,attaching a snail shell to his back and attaching gills to his sides and cheeks,I essentially made him into a sea snail. Though,there’s side effects,his tongue became a bit longer from the aquatic functioning of his body and his skin became more aqua greenish,normally he is quite slow,for a while he kept himself in his cell,miserable,however,one day,my assistant ended up giving him a cauldron and random ingredients and his book,that had fallen off him when he was knocked out,she told him that someone had told him he really liked making potions so she brought him all the stuff he needed,I noticed there was a immediate mood change,as he went from depressed,to back to normal,it seems like he might’ve used a speed potion on himself cause after this,everyday,he’d zoom out of his cell,and zoom back into it at bedtime. Since he’s a seasnail,he can slip right into the water tanks if they’re not covered up and talk to whoever’s inside.

Petunia: the other demon in the group,by her outfit,she seemed like a waitress,and seeing how robots seem to be a lot of waiters now,I got an idea. My assistant chopped off her legs,and replaced them with a metal pipe,turning the pipe into a big long metal cord,she attached them to the roof. Petunia can’t walk on the floor,instead,she rolls around on the ceiling,allowing her to be really fast like a roller skater,however,she didn’t seem bothered by this change,as she helps serve the experiments and hostages in the cafeteria,not even looking tired. I believe she’s the one who asked my assistant to give pico his potion making equipment,and she says ever since she did that,she would often find a random treat and drink at her door ever since then,I think it’s her.

Bodie: since he is a werewolf,I got an idea what if I made him even MORE powerful? I had my assistant inject chemicals into his blood stream,this made his veins very visible and his eyes looking more animalistic,he has more strength and middle in his arms and legs,that is hard to see cause of,again,his long clothing. He can’t dent walls and break bones just by punching,he’ll,in his werewolf form he becomes even stronger,his body becoming nearly as big as his cell itself,and his strength and speed is increased,though his behavior becomes a bit more aggressive,he’s more easily agatated and can impulsively scratch those who anger him in this state,though his IS still himself,so he apologizes immediately after and so far,there’s no record of him biting someone. So far,there dosent seem to be much of a difference of behavior,other than him being a bit more confident after his experimentation.

-mod shelby

(Oh man- 👀)

[fernandidilly-yo]

Image Description: Digital Art of My Hero Academia’s class 1-A students, all sporting their own and each other’s Hero Merch. There are five students on each page, there are four separate pages.

Koda Koji (Anima) is the first. His logo is a red A in the middle of a yellow square. The square looks like a square on a quilt, the A looking stitched on. Koda looks nervous, left hand rubbing at his head as he stares uncertain at the viewer. Koda has headphones around his neck, black with the E J logo that is Earphone Jack’s. Koda is wearing a white dress shirt with a blue sweater vest over the top. The light blue sweater vest is Tentacole merch, his symbol over the left breast. Koda’s khaki patchwork shorts are rolled up at the knee. Patches of animals over the legs, a bee and cat patch on his right leg, one of his own logo at his left front pocket. Koda’s socks are mismatched, vertical stipes and horizontal stripes, his shoes are blue and white.

Hagakure Toru (Invisible Girl) is second. Her logo is a large, lowercase I. The outline is a shinny blue, the inside a pastel pink. Hagakure is definitely posing for someone, her back half twisted toward the viewer, her left leg bent all the way up. As she shows off both her bags. She’s wearing a green frog bucket-hat, Froppy merch. Hagakure’s jersey t-shirt is white with gold trim and golden T M on the back, Tailman merch. She has a brown square bag in her right hand, a glittering disco-ball purse on her left wrist, Can’t Stop Twinkling merch. She’s wearing a pink pleated skirt with yellow buckles. Her pink gloves match her skirt. Hagakure’s knee-high socks are pink with blue dripping from the tops, Pinky’s merch. Her jelly shoes seem to be see-through, shiny and squishy looking, they are her own Hero merch.

Sato Rikido (Sugarman) is third. His logo is a large yellow S with two sugar cubes over the top. Sato is rubbing at his left shoulder, arm crossed over his chest, looking relaxed. His arm almost covers his own logo on the front of the yellow tank-top he’s wearing. Sato’s wearing gray gym shorts, with white trim and stripes up the sides. Over his right hip is a pouchbag, red and white with a C on the side, Creati’s merch. Sato is wearing red and white striped socks, and some yellow high-tops with purple accents and purple toes. There are a few grapes on the sides, Grape Juice’s merch.

Ojiro Mashirao (Tailman) is fourth. His logo is a yellow circle outlined by black, the white T and M inside of the circle are stacked on top of each other. Ojiro is in the middle of checking his phone, his pop-socket is Tailman themed, he’s tapping his foot as he texts. He’s wearing a white sweater, an Invisible Girl necklace on top. Ojiro’s wearing normal beige slacks, and plain black dress shoes. His belt is black with a golden buckle. The end of the belt looks like a piece of torn-off tape, Cellophane merch.

Mineta Minoru (Grape Juice) is dead fifth. His logo is two dark purple grapes with a yellow stem, the initials G J carved into the side of the grapes. Mineta is on the ground, face down, his nose pressed to the floor, balls on his head toward the viewer. He looks to be out cold, his legs crumpled under him. He is wearing a dark purple shirt with his own logo on the sleeve, muddy green shorts, and yellow shoes.

Shinso Hitoshi (Mind Blank?) is fifth sixth. He does not have a logo. Shinso is crouching over Mineta, looking down at the other purple boy somewhat curiously. He’s on the toes of his shoes as he crouches, arms resting on his knees. The black tank top Shinso’s wearing is Eraser Head merch, with the word Eraser being a golden yellow, and the word Head being black letters inside of a golden yellow box. Shinso is wearing normal gray gym shorts, and some black lace-up combat boots. The fingerless beige gloves he is wearing have capital D’s on the backs, Deku merch.

(End of Image Description)

Hot ticket items 4/4

[angela-the-fox]

The design of my new look and height in the Poppy Playtime franchise.

Heights and centimeters!

Human form - 5'8, 173 cm

Poppy Playtime's Bigger Body form Angela AngelWolf - 12'5, 3.78 m (almost the same height as CatNap's in monstrous form, and wow, super tall, almost like a giraffe, ngl)

My accessories and outfit:

Orchid shirt with a light lavender-ish sleeves, along with a symbol of therian. LGBTQ+ scarf of bisexuality around the neck. Dark purple sweatpants with no shoes or socks, just my anthro digitigrade legs of animals. And a face mask with a smile of the Smiling Critters.

_____________________________

Angela AngelWolf: Bigger Body form!

Angela AngelWolf's (a.k.a mine) monstrous form resembles a canine tall creature, cloaked in split shade: dark green on the right side and dark purple/eggplant on the opposite side fur. The eye showcases black pupils encircled by white irises and a wolf-like nose, along with a very long, soft, silky, bushy fox-like tail. The wolf ears inside of a bat-like inside ears. The mouth remained open at all times, devoid of discernible teeth, forming an abyss-like void, with a white pointy spiky wolf canine-like fangs on the upper jaw, which could also blow the Red Smoke/sleeping gas from its mouth. The paws bear two digits (on the front) while the back paws with wolf-like paws, each armed with sharp, white-ish lime and lavender claws, resembles feline-like claws, and elongated limbs that seemed loosely stitched at the joints, along with the wrist of the paws. With a darker grey choker hanging around the neck. Around the neck hanging a mix forest and lime symbol of therian (since i was a part of the therian community with quadrobic sport) and a light silver-like zipper running down the chest from it, attached from the choker to the hips.

[yeehawbvby]

Falling Away With You | Ch. 2

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: After a long day of meeting and greeting, you run into an interesting trio.

Author’s Note: n/a

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

Prev | Next

I’m woken up by something tapping on the windows. Shit, is it raining? That’s just my luck.

According to the small, crusty lookin’ clock on my nightstand, it’s 6 AM. I take a mental note to pick up a new alarm clock sometime soon. This is a good time to get up, I guess. Since the rain will make it hard to do any important yard work, I can try and bang out some more of that list today than I’d planned to originally. Fingers crossed I don’t melt away at just the sight of a few strangers.

I make my way out of bed after laying there for a while – I was too cozy to get up, okay? – and discover that the door on the left does, in fact, lead to a kitchen and bathroom. Fuck yes.

The kitchen is literally just a fridge and a small stove. The rest is just cabinets and empty space. It isn’t much, but it’ll do. Maybe I can move the table in the living room? main room? whatever it is, into here, to accomodate for a couch out there. At least the bathroom is fully functional (knock on wood) and complete with a clothing washer and dryer combo.

I take a shower, not bothering to dry or style my hair afterwards, and get dressed, doing my best to look okay while knowing I’m going to get wet out there. I curse myself for not having an umbrella. I never thought I’d need one, I don’t get out much.

I rummage through my suitcase and pull out an oversized, black sweater, with a white collar and small daisies stitched onto the bottom of each sleeve; my favorite light pink, pleated skirt; and some white thigh highs. I’ll toss on my black combat boots with this before I go. They’ll give my little gremlin ass some much needed height. 

I quickly brush on some waterproof mascara to finish things off. Should I bring a jacket? That’s in a whole other suitcase… I look out the window, and it’s gone from a medium rain to a full blown downpour. Ugh, I should bring a jacket. 

Right as I spot what I’ve been looking for, I hear knocking on the door. I guess I’ll have to get used to having visitors, especially so early, living out here.

“Coming!” I yell, quickly using my locked phone screen to make sure my hair looks as neat as it can in its dampened state. I flip it around a bit, trying to bring my waves to life.

I open the door to a lady holding a scruffy, gray and white kitten. She looks like she’s in her late 30’s or early 40’s, with thick auburn hair braided to one side. Her smile is soothing and motherly, and she smells cozy. I don’t know what cozy smells like, but she’s it.

“Hello, (y/n)!” How does she know my name already? “I’m Marnie, I live down the road by that forest over there,” she says, pointing south.

“Nice to meet you!” I do my best to seem enthusiastic, hoping she can’t tell how nervous I am. The last thing I was expecting right now was company.

“You see this cat here?” I nod in response. “I found it sitting outside the entrance to your farm! I think it’s a stray… poor thing.”

Oooh, please tell me this is going where I think it is.

“Don’t you think this farm could use a good cat?” Marnie asks. She has a hopeful glimmer in her eyes – even if I wanted to say ‘“no,” which I absolutely don’t, I would never be able to.

“Yeah, of course!”

I take the little guy from her, inspecting him a bit before realizing that poor Marnie is just standing out in the rain. Don't invite her in. Don’t do it, (y/n). It’ll be uncomfy and you know you’ll regret it and – 

“Would you like to come in? You’re getting soaked out there!”

Fuck me.

“Oh, what a sweetheart! Thank you, but I’ll have to decline. I’ve got a shop to run.” Thank Yoba. “If you ever need any hay, feel free to stop by!” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I reply, “Thank you!”

We say our goodbyes and I take the cat inside. He’s a cute little thing, a bit on the skinny side, and he doesn’t seem to have any fleas or ticks. His left ear has a notch in it, which means he was caught, neutered, and released back into the wild. That’s super helpful. After letting the boy explore his surroundings a bit, I pick him back up and hold him in front of me to get a better look.

“What to name you…”

He meows.

“You’re a vocal one, aren’t you?”

Meow.

Despite how frail he is, he’s got personality, I'll give him that. Maybe I could name him after a mythical figure, or an infamous deity of some sort. Something powerful… inspirational, wise…

“Old Master Cannoli.”

Another meow.

“Cannoli for short?”

He purrs, sealing the deal. This suits him, somehow. Now, I hate to leave Cannoli alone so soon, but I have people to meet and things to buy.

__________________

I made my way to the general store for some supplies and food, where I met Pierre – the shop owner – and his wife, Caroline. That’s two people ticked off the list! Another was then checked off for Gus, who I bumped into in one of the aisles. He said he owns the Stardrop Saloon, so I’ll definitely have to scope that out sometime.

After getting some human food, cat food, and a few other things I need, I went for a stroll around town. I showed up at the doorstep to two houses. I was going to stop after the first, but thought maybe the nerves would subside enough by the second — big surprise, they didn’t. At least I tried.

Each time I was greeted, I meekly explained my mission and introduced myself. One building was occupied by two sisters, Emily and Haley – the former a bit eclectic, and the latter very preppy. They seem nice, albeit a little nuts, but I don’t necessarily mind that. 

The sisters live next door to a total MILF, Jodi, who I visited afterwards. Once we introduced ourselves, she invited me in for coffee, and almost immediately started venting about housework. That, and how lonely she is with her husband away at war, fighting against the Gotoro Empire.

I could keep you company, I cheekily thought, before mentally slapping the horny out of myself and giving her a much-needed shoulder to cry on.

There were a few villagers walking outside, which made it easier to complete more of my quest. They didn’t seem very eager to be stopped in the rain, but eased up when they realized I just wanted to meet and greet them.

Well, most of them did. That absolute bitch Shane told me to go away. 

I decided to stop home for a break, and to drop off my groceries and whatnot, which brings me to where I am now. I suppose I should unpack my luggage, maybe look for a cheap dresser I can grab off Craigslist or something, seeing that there’s nothing better to do... I’ll check out that Gus guy’s saloon tonight, too. I’m sure a drink or two could unleash my social skills a bit.

__________________

I finally got my chores done, so I’m able to start my trek to Stardrop. As soon as the gravel road passing the bus stop turns to the stone plaza entrance, I see three shadowy figures heading towards me. With all this rain and fog, I can’t tell if they’re humans or if I’m just seeing shit. Fuck, what if they’re shadow people? Aren’t those dangerous?

“Hey, is that the new farm girl?!”

Oh, ok. They’re human. 

I slow my pace to a halt. “Uh,” I mutter, squinting my eyes to try and get a better look, while nervously fiddling with my oversized sleeve. “It is, yeah.”

One of the figures jogs up to me, while the others take their time. He’s revealed to be a handsome dude, with spiky, blonde, anime-looking hair. A real life super saiyan . He seems friendly, but radiates chaotic energy for sure.

“Oh let’s gooo!” he exclaims as he slows up to me. The guy puts his hands on his hips. “What’re you doing out here, farmer?!”

He looks me up and down. Can’t tell if he’s checking me out, or if he’s just getting a better look at me. Maybe both? I dunno.

“Lewis wants me to meet new people, or whatever. Figured the saloon is a good place to do that...”

“Ooooh, we’re headed there right now!” He flings his left arm around my shoulders. I’m finally able to see our height difference up close, and oh my goodness, this guy is tall. “You should come hang with us!”

I look up at him, unsure of what to say. He’s looking at me so expectantly. Damnit.

“Fuck it, why not.”

He throws a fist in the air – the right one, as his left arm is still dangled across me – as I hear a feminine voice tsk and say, “You poor thing.”

Looking away, I see the girl this voice came from. Wow, that’s some very purple hair. It’s beautiful,  glowing like a silken amethyst under the haze of the street lamps. She’s just as shrimpy as me, might be an inch or two taller at most , but she sure looks more intimidating.

“Sorry, Sam does this to all the newcomers,” she says while crossing her arms. Sam? Sam, Sam… oh, is this guy Jodi’s son? “It’s probably the reason they always leave so soon.”

I look up at Sam, who takes mock offense before playfully sticking his tongue out at his friend.

“Don’t worry about it! It’s kind of refreshing actually.”

She scoffs, but I hear a low hum of approval coming from beside her. Was that a laugh, or just an acknowledgement? Either way, I look to the source and it’s another tall and handsome man. He’s wearing all black, and his asymmetrical dark hair is falling into his eyes a bit. An overall angsty demeanor. I try to get a better look at his face, deciphering what it looks like in more detail under the hair.

Yoba, he’s like, really hot.

The more I look, the more I realize I stared for too long. He looks confused, he’s probably expecting me to say something, oh god oh fuck just say something, idiot!

“Are you Robin’s son?”

Wow, way to be a creep. 

The purple-haired girl wraps an arm around his and gives me a curt glare. Maybe they’re dating, or something. Is she jealous that I asked him a question? She tries tugging him closer, but he doesn’t really budge. Oof. Tough luck, lady.

He opens his mouth to answer, but instead the girl answers for him, “He is.”

“Abbyyy,” Sam reaches down and flicks her on the nose. “Let Seb speak for himself!”

She rolls her eyes. “Well, he was taking too long and we’re getting soaked out here. Come on!”

She turns the opposite way, reluctantly unlatching herself from Sebastian, and heads towards the saloon. Sebastian stays put. I’m about to start following Abby, but soon realize Sam is straight up leaning on me. If I were to move right now, he’d fall and bring me down with him. I look up at him, and he looks down at me, tilting his head.

“Er..” I try to shimmy him off a bit.

“Oh, shit, my bad! Sorry, uh…” he points at me with his free hand.

“(Y/n).”

“(Y/n)!” he pipes.

He gives me a fucking head pat before running to catch up with Abby. Sebastian and I trail behind.

“He’s like a giant puppy,” I mutter, mostly to myself. I hear another hum, and look up at Sebastian to see a small smirk formed on his face.

“You’ll get used to it.”

Whoa, that’s… a voice. It sounds a bit raw and raspy, maybe from underuse? But it’s got a certain smoothness to it. It’s kinda nice.

“Your mom helped me move in yesterday,” I ramble after a beat. “She mentioned you aren’t much of a people person so I’m kinda surprised to have met you, um…” I vaguely gesture around, “in the wild.”

Why am I still talking to him if I just acknowledged that he isn’t a people person? Why’d I even say it out loud? I know from my own experience how uncomfy that can be. Luckily, he doesn’t seem mad.

“I do this every Friday with them. I’m not super into it, but it makes them happy.”

I nod and hum in response. After a short moment, I can feel eyes on me. Is he looking at me? I blush at the thought. Should I check? Wait, what if he thinks I’m staring at him, then? Once we’re within a few feet of the door, I will myself to glance at him, and see his eyes dart in another direction.

“Dude, come on!” Abby peeks out the door with an eye roll, scurries down the steps, and ushers Sebastian inside. He doesn’t look very happy to be manhandled, but what do I know? I just met the guy. Maybe he’s into that sort of shit.

“Jeez, leaving (y/n) hanging?! That’s harsh!” Sam waits in the doorway for me to come in. I thank him as we follow the others, his arm finding its way over my shoulders again.

[merakiui]

[5] 𝔹𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣 & ꜱᴘɪᴄʏ

yandere!xiao x (gender neutral) reader cw: modern au, yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, kidnapping/captivity, dark/obsessive thoughts, implied stockholm syndrome, murder, character death, violence, blood/gore, weapon (box cutter), mention of knives, horror imagery/descriptions, mention of physical and verbal abuse previous chapter → [bitter & rotten]

Oops.

You’re holding your shirt over the sink, pouring what’s left of the cranberry juice on it. The fabric soaks up the liquid as if it were a sponge, dyeing your once white T-shirt in patches of crimson. After you’ve wrung out the excess liquid to the best of your ability, you crush the juice carton and cast it into the trash bin.

Looks real enough, you think to yourself after a careful inspection. I wonder if Xiao has anything I can wear.

Now shirtless you navigate his apartment with ease, only stopping to hang your sodden shirt in the bathroom. It should be dry within a few hours and you’re positive the juice will leave a suitable stain. It’s a shame you’ll be out of a shirt for the time being, but you never cared for it anyways. That uniform gives you memories that are far too bitter for your liking. Unable to stomach them, you hope the juice stains far darker than any insult ever could. You’re grateful to have finally found a way to get rid of that shirt. If you wanted to, you could always shred it with a pair of scissors. Doing so would just lead to questions you wouldn’t be too fond of answering. 

Upon entering Xiao’s room, you immediately head in the direction of the closet. It feels strange to stand outside of the space you were once kept in—like a doll confined to a glass case. And when you grab the doorknob and hear the telltale rattle of a lock your expression falls. Has it always been locked? More importantly, who in their right mind would need to lock a closet? 

Unless there’s something hiding inside and you’re not meant to see it. 

I’m not surprised he has his secrets, you think, gravitating towards the dresser that is pushed up against the opposite wall. I wish I could see what’s inside, though.

As you consider what it could be, you pull open one of the drawers. As expected of Xiao, his clothes are folded and organized to grim perfection. From white dress shirts to black sweatpants, his color scheme is very monochrome. Without giving it much thought, you pick the first sweater that grabs your attention. It’s fleece and has a decal stitched into the front. You stare at it, just barely recognizing the faint outline of a withered rose. The aesthetic suits Xiao perfectly. Gloomy and exuding an air of symbolic angst, the rose decal shows fair signs of wear. Not that its condition matters to you; it’s only a sweater.

Content with your choice, you slip it over your head, pushing your arms through the fluffy sleeves. 

Now that you’re looking around his room again, it occurs to you that Xiao was living alone before he took you. It must have been a lonely life filled with sorrow. You’re not sure how he was able to get by with such an empty living space. Every room in his apartment feels sterile; it’s as if a ghost has taken up residence here and is mimicking its once human way of life. But you’re aware that there’s no use feeling sorry for someone who kidnapped you; however, you will admit that it felt nice venting to him. Unlike your roommate, who’d optimistically told you that everything would sort itself out if you waited long enough, he listened and didn’t jump to conclusions based on your explanation. 

Though that doesn’t pardon the fact that he stole you away from your joyful life. The more you reflect on it, the more unhappy it seems. Truthfully, you weren’t satisfied when you stood behind the register and endured angry customers and a temperamental boss. You didn’t like mopping the floors and cleaning up after messy kids who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. And you absolutely loathed having to make the commute to and from work, where shadows danced along your peripheral and it took all of your courage not to run back to the safety of your home. 

But even when you were faced with these difficulties, you would still persevere. When it felt like your world was falling apart and everyone was against you, your ambitious need to survive kept you from quitting altogether. You spent your shifts daydreaming about a better life—about a glorious future that was bound to hold endless riches and days of relaxation—and those fantasies smoothed out the rough edges in your daily life. Now you have no need for silly aspirations because Xiao gives you everything your old life didn’t have: good food, companionship, safety, and best of all, predictable mundanity.

But why are you even here? You’re not a celebrity or a politician. You’re just a regular person who couldn’t predict what was going to happen that night. Xiao has no reason to keep you around. He shouldn’t put all of his trust in you. Isn’t he worried you’ll betray him? Do you even want to betray him? What’s stopping you from slipping out of that door and alerting the police? 

Is it the fear of dying? The intense fright that comes with not knowing anything and that you could be lost to the world forever. The fear of living an isolated life, where the wrong move could cost you. Are you afraid of the blank, bitter slate that is Xiao?

No, not really.

You choose to stay because it’s comfortable. Because you’re given a bed and meals and you don’t have to worry about money and work. Because he doesn’t do much and won’t treat you like the dirt everyone walks on. Life is so simple when all you have to do is put up with his mood, wear your usual customer service smile, and force one-sided conversation.

Your gaze finds the closet once more in your attempt to forget about this fever dream of a reality.

“It’s been a while,” you mutter, walking up to the door and giving it an experimental knock. “Is anyone there? Hello?”

No one responds and you’re not sure if that should warrant comfort. It’s a relief because it means he hasn’t kidnapped another person, but it also means that whatever’s inside could be a corpse. But would he really kill another person? Your blood runs cold at the image your mind produces: a sickly one of Xiao standing over a lifeless body, blood clinging to his arms and torso. If that’s what rests beyond this door, will you be next? Will he kill you in order to keep it a secret? Are you going to be stuffed in that closet after he’s done with you? After he’s taken a saw to your limbs and has cut and cut until—

Stop thinking about it. I’m supposed to be looking around, not contemplating a murder.

You search each of the drawers until you find it: the shoebox. It was hidden under a pile of socks, all of which are perfectly paired up with one another. Without wasting another second, you pry the lid off of the box. As you had hoped, its contents are familiar. Sitting inside is a mask in the grotesque form of a demon’s face, complete with two pointed horns and a set of fangs that curl into a snarl. Curiously, you tap at the mask. It doesn’t feel cheap, but it doesn’t feel expensive either. You’re reminded of slasher films and gory massacres as you turn it over in your hands. This was the mask that invaded your vision when he grabbed you that night, its colors choking your flight or fight response like neon herbicide. 

In that alley, as you were leaving through the back door, you were just trying to get home. The evening had been a mess of complaints and errors, mainly due to the limited amount of staff. It didn’t help that your boss was in a poor mood and as a result of that her employees reflected her grim aura. All you had wanted was to come home, relax in the comfort of your bed, and put that horrible day behind you in favor of eight hours of sleep. And yet that was not what fate had planned for you. 

It’s one of the only items in his wardrobe that has a splash of bright color, but you hate that it’s the thing that’s shown up in your dreams ever since you were thrown into this crazy situation.

I ought to stomp on this stupid mask, you think before shaking your head. On second thought, I shouldn’t do that. He’d be angry if he found out I was snooping. And there’s no way I could hurt him if he came after me. 

You hear the doorknob rattle as the key fits inside the lock. Pleased with the results of your search, you shove the mask inside the box, pull the lid over it, and haphazardly return it to its place among the socks. You’re already standing in the hallway when Xiao opens the door, grocery bags hanging off of his arms. He stares at you for a quiet moment, pupils dilating ever so slightly while he examines your clothes. 

“Did you go outside?” he asks, shutting the door with a force that makes you flinch. 

“No, of course not! I’d never.” You smile as you open your arms and twirl in place. “I borrowed one of your sweaters because I spilled juice on my shirt. Hopefully that was okay.”

“My sweater? Oh… Wear whatever you want. I don’t care.” His shoulders droop, losing their stiffness like a balloon that’s deflating. He looks more drained than he usually does: dismal, dark circles, pale skin that resembles porcelain, and an expression that’s hardly welcoming. His arm extends to showcase the four bags that hang off of it like laundry on a clothesline. “Groceries. Here.”

“Ah.” You move forward as if you’re a marionette being controlled by a clever puppeteer. You grab the bags from him without ceremony. “Thanks.”

About time. I’m starving.

“You’ll make dinner tonight. I’ve got to take care of something.”

“Like what?” You walk down the hall and into the kitchen, glancing over your shoulder to watch him as he removes his shoes. 

“Nothing important.”

“It must be important if you’re letting me cook. Is it for work?”

He doesn’t reply and you turn away, setting the bags on the table.

So he doesn’t want to talk about it. That’s fine.

You’re humming as you unpack the groceries, surveying the soup cans and cereal boxes in hopes of coming up with a meal suited to your tastes. Briefly you wonder if this is some sort of trap—a test for him to see whether or not you’ll take the opportunity to slip something into his food while he’s gone. But Xiao doesn’t pay you any mind as he flits about the kitchen, opening cupboards and rifling through drawers. Something must have happened at work if he’s bustling around like this, heading in and out of rooms with his arms full of various things. And at one point he retreats into his bedroom, the door closing and locking inconspicuously.

As you stare at the variety of foods laid out before you, you realize Xiao’s palate is, to put it nicely, unique. Some foods are purely meat-based while others appear difficult on the tongue. You pick up a jar of paprika, eyebrows raised. You never pinned Xiao as the type who’d enjoy spicy dishes. He strikes you as someone who’d eat light, soft meals. You’ve caught him enjoying sweet bread before and once he even brought home a dish that looked eerily similar to decorative tofu. It’s hard to pinpoint his exact tastes when you’re examining the paprika and then the cans of your favorite soups. 

At the very least he bought meat; you could do something with that. 

Anxious for tonight’s meal, you surmise that it’ll be better than nothing. And while you aren’t a five-star chef, you know how to make food look tasty and presentable. That’s all that really matters in the grand scheme of things, and so you grab a package of chicken breasts. You aren’t all that thrilled about having to cook without a recipe, but you’re hoping you’ll be able to make something delicious with what you have. If this situation has been any indication of your improvisation skills, cooking should be the least of your worries. As long as you’re able to live another day in his apartment, that’s more than enough motivation to keep you moving forward.  

Once you’ve gotten the cutting board and the necessary ingredients assembled, you glance at the knife block. The largest and sharpest knife is missing and as you come to this realization the front door is already shutting, clicking ominously as you’re left to drown in your theories. 

Xiao is on the verge of losing it when he steps into the shadowed night, clinging to the darkness as if it’s his only saving grace. He has half of a mind not to seek out trouble when it’s unnecessary, but he can’t avoid the problems that have been piling up ever since he was introduced to Ajax. That photograph must be dealt with immediately and Ajax will also have to be silenced. With his secret on the line, the only way to get rid of a pest is to snuff it before it can spread. Human life means nothing when he’s already found the true meaning to his existence.

Huddled within the expanses of his jacket, his fingers curl around the weapon concealed in his pocket. He’s not sure how he should be feeling right now. It’s tricky to pinpoint the emotions that are needed for dealing with this sort of issue. 

Like scrambled eggs that are burning in a pan, his emotions have blackened because of this recent turn of events. Something’s not right within his chest, but he can’t quite figure it out and this feeling only grows in size as he travels through alleyways, avoiding the passing traffic and the lights that illuminate the pathways in a soft glow. Despite the fact that this situation calls for logic and reason, his head is empty. It’s as if someone has switched off a TV and the static has cleared up to welcome blank nothingness. Xiao knows he ought to feel paranoid with Ajax’s prying curiosity. He should be trembling with the fear that comes from being found out, but his brain won’t allow it. 

Anger. Sadness. Happiness. Nothing exists. Silence is far stronger than any emotion he should be feeling. Though silence itself is not an emotion, it certainly describes his current disposition. His head is too quiet. Envy. Hatred. Love. He knows of no such things at this moment. Just silence, as it has always been since the very beginning. 

Although there is something that comes forth within his headspace moments later. The sweet image of his secret dressed comfortably in his sweater springs up from the deepest depths of his oceanic mind. Waves crash against stone as he focuses on that newfound memory, blocking out the calls of whales and the cries of seagulls. In the center of such a vast ocean, he floats alongside a picture of his secret. It’s a happy life made for two. An isolated existence in which two people depend upon each other for their thriving ecosystem. That’s how it should be. There isn’t any room for useless animals, especially not mutts like Ajax who masquerade as apex predators.

Once separated, it has now become a relationship between a flightless seabird and a lonesome anglerfish, both of whom are coexisting peacefully in the same world. 

The weather dampens the air with a clawing chill and he’s relieved to have pulled up his hood. Not only does it obscure his hair, it also acts as another protective layer for his face. The blue color of his demon mask shines when touched by the streetlights and he keeps his back pressed against the sides of buildings, careful not to stray too close. 

This won’t take long, he thinks as the convenience store comes into view. My secret is waiting for me, so I’ve got to do this quickly.

He spies the hateful woman through the glass and the ocean inside his head goes wild, its choppy waves filled with resentment. It’s been a while since he visited the scene of his crime. Everything’s the same as it was before your disappearance. It’s as if you were a speck of dust and someone wiped you away. You’re not as worthless as your boss thinks. She’s the one whose value is the equivalent of garbage. She has no purpose in this world, and even if she did have one it would only serve to make your life even more miserable.

Xiao won’t allow that.

As he moves through the shadows, he passes another poster of his secret and his heart stutters when he views the graduation outfit. He doesn’t understand the concept of graduation, for school does not exist in his distorted world. He never learned from textbooks or from the mouths of teachers. His real-world experiences were garnered through the trials and tribulations of survival and his academics were limited despite his savior’s attempt at homeschool. 

Xiao’s glowering at the portrait of you in your get-up, smiling so brightly for the camera. It’s wrong. You shouldn’t be wearing that. You’re in his sweater, in his apartment, cooking a meal for him. You’re not trapped in your box anymore. You’re free, just as he is. And as a result of that this poster means nothing; it’s just a waste of paper made with the intent of souring his life with you. 

So he reaches for it, tears it from the post, and crumples it into a ball, where it’s shoved inside his pocket. 

He turns away from where it was once tacked before it can eat him alive with its implications. And through the eye holes in his mask he spots his secret’s boss moving around inside the convenience store, carrying boxes and setting them on the counter. Xiao feels for the blade in his pocket, but his mind is elsewhere. Whether you’re in a box or on the streets for all to see, his secret is still in danger. As long as people like Ajax exist in this world, there will always be peril. And Xiao, having tasted that spicy flavor over and over, is ready to tear down walls and slash through the binds that render his secret immobile. It’s protection of the finest quality, cooked to perfection and sweetened with the most delicious honey. 

I must protect my secret. I don’t need anyone else.

He takes one step forward and stops abruptly, almost tripping over his feet when he sees him. Ajax is waving as he exits the store, a picture-perfect grin on his face. His eyes find Xiao’s and it feels like he’s staring through him rather than directly at him. And shortly after that he backs away into the dark recesses of the alley.

Xiao abandons his initial plan and follows Ajax's shrinking shadow with hurried steps. When he enters the alley, Ajax is nowhere to be found. He stands there and pivots in a circle, searching for his coworker with razor-sharp focus. A sudden noise draws his attention and he whirls around to face it, blood pounding within his ears. Standing in front of him, his arms outstretched, is Ajax, and Xiao’s hatred for him crawls up his throat. It’s putrid like bile, so sour and rancid that it could kill him. He takes a cautious step forward, blinking once to steady his bearings, and Ajax is gone.

He doesn’t know about this place. He shouldn’t, so why is he here?

Hands reach for his shoulders and Xiao spins to meet him halfway. Snatching his wrist, he tugs him down to eye level. Electric blue clashes with enraged gold. In the middle of his own ocean, he feels himself beginning to sink and his secret remains on the warm shoreline, your feathers plucked out at the root by Ajax’s cruel fingers. The cocky smirk on his face says everything. It’s filled with victory, a symbolic show of checkmate. 

He recognizes me… 

Failure is something Xiao has wrestled with his entire life. It’s a thing that brings about ruin and self-loathing. It’s a thing that earned him beatings and insults from the adults around him. But now he’s too far gone to crumble under the weight of loss. He won’t lose. He needs to get rid of everything that’s sour to keep his current life sweet. To keep his secret untouched by dirty hands. 

Xiao tackles him to the ground before his coworker can even register what’s happening. His shorter frame crawls over Ajax’s lanky build, while his hand covers his mouth in a deathly grip. Trembling fingers wrap around his wrist, scratching and clawing, but it does nothing to deter him. Xiao finally withdraws his box cutter as he sits atop Ajax, pushing the blade up until it’s visible. For someone who held himself with such confidence, it’s strange to see how fast he deteriorates, squirming under his weight. 

He eases his grip on his mouth and that’s when the sour man speaks, thus confirming the villainous truth. “You’re the guy who took that person… It’s been you all along.” 

No… No, no, no. He doesn’t know it’s me. He can’t!

For a split second he falters and that’s all the time Ajax needs to regain his composure, raising his leg and slamming his knee into Xiao’s lower back. He falls forward with a grunt, palms open to catch himself, while Ajax hooks his arm around his torso to pull him into his chest. And then he rolls over, thus flipping the position so that Xiao’s backside is pressed into the concrete. Ajax towers over him, eyes dark and fierce. He can’t tell whether this is the face of a man betrayed or a man fearing for his endangered life.

The box cutter is just centimeters away and Xiao reaches for it. 

Ajax tuts and pins his arm to the ground, applying a pressure that’s so crushing it feels like his bone might snap. “Can’t let you get that, can I? I think it’s only fair if I get to play with it now.”

Xiao grits his teeth, glaring up at him through the holes in his mask. I’ll kill you, he thinks, so consumed with rage that he shakes under Ajax. You’re the one who has to die, so stop looking at me like that! Like I’m the one who’s going to die!

He can now clearly see that it’s a gaze of solemn pity. Xiao wants to tear his face off as soon as he sees the regret shining in his eyes. Ajax clutches the box cutter to his chest, torn between using it and keeping it clean. The mere implication that he would pity these circumstances—that he would pity Xiao—is disgusting. From the outside to the inside, it’s as sour as he is. 

This can’t be happening.

“If you tell me where you’re keeping them, I won’t kill you.”

“Shut up. I’ll never—”

“You won’t tell me? Then I’ll just have to find them myself.”

His colorful world shatters into splinters of monstrous horror. If he’s killed right here in this alley, Ajax will find you and you’ll be all alone. His secret will be revealed and you’ll become a bitter person who only knows the acidic taste of lemons and loneliness. And if he’s meant to die in a world where you still exist, there’s no way he can accept such a punishment. Not unless you’re ready to follow him into the afterlife.

With his body in autopilot, he grabs a fistful of Ajax’s shirt and tugs him closer. He uses the proximity to bash his head into the other’s, just before the box cutter can fit snugly against his neck. Ajax falls backwards, groaning, and he cradles his head. Xiao hears the blade clatter to the ground and he lunges for it, falling onto his chest when Ajax seizes his ankle. He growls and kicks out with his other leg, hitting Ajax square in his stomach. His fingers finally curl around the box cutter and he gasps, relieved, before his coworker is pouncing on him. 

“You don’t know when to quit!” 

“And you don’t seem to realize that what you’re doing is wrong!”

In a tangle of limbs, Ajax throws punches that are uncharacteristically weak, and his nails dig into the fabric of his jacket. Xiao slashes blindly with the box cutter, nicking his cheek and arm. He tunes out Ajax’s ramblings when they become too loud for his liking. He reaches for his face, hoping to gouge his eyes out or rip out his tongue so that he’ll stop talking. Hate surges through his body like gasoline in a car and he aims his weapon at his eye, fully intent on plunging the thing through his skull. But before he can do that, Ajax grips his throat, lifts him slightly above the ground, and throws him back down. Xiao wheezes painfully at the way his back slams into the concrete. It’s been too long since he had a proper fight, but he’s determined to win either way. His survival calls for it.

Ajax’s chest heaves as his breaths come in soft pants, but his exhaustion doesn’t stop him from wrapping his hands around Xiao’s neck once more. This time, rather than moving him around like a rag doll, he squeezes to the point of asphyxiation. Xiao slaps at his arm like a pig desperate to avoid a butcher’s knife, his eyes wide and frenzied. 

He can’t breathe. He’s going to die. Ajax is going to kill him.

“Finally… Now I know your secret. It’s all mine.”

Don’t say that. It’s not true!

What remains of his sanity stretches tautly into infinity until it snaps and he weakly raises his arm. He’s holding the box cutter so tightly that he doesn’t even feel it go through Ajax’s jugular. It’s a jerky, sudden kind of motion that opens his throat as if it’s a frog pinned to a dissection board. Blood spills out in a gushing spray, coating his mask and front in warm crimson. The pressure to his neck subsides the minute Xiao pushes him backwards. He falls flat on his back, coughing and choking—fingers digging into his mangled throat. He opens his mouth to cry out and Xiao slices again, burying the blade into his flesh so hard that it snags on the torn skin. Deep and malicious, it kisses his throat like ice skates on a frozen lake—gliding through his flesh with such deadly precision.

When he stares at his face, he finds that it’s been scratched out. As if Ajax is an undesirable sketch, whose appearance is not up to the standards of his artist, intense, jagged static mars his face. No matter how many times he blinks, it refuses to dissipate. But it doesn’t exactly matter now that he can’t produce anymore sounds, having been silenced by his own sticky blood. Gazing at the gore laid out before him, Xiao realizes that red is such a spicy color. It’s the color of passion and flame; the color of roses and hearts on Valentine’s Day; the color of anger and abhorrence. 

The color of paprika. 

There are no final sentiments from Ajax as his breath wisps away, blood spilling over his lips in a final, strangled breath. Through the obscuring static, his eyes are wide with a shock that doesn’t pair well with his handsome features. It’s almost foreign as it etches itself onto his pale face: raw and real. Xiao straightens his posture as he witnesses the life drain from his body as though it’s a toy that has run out of battery power. Rather than blood, he cons himself into thinking it’s spicy chili powder that’s covering him. He holds his hand up to the starry sky and thick droplets fall upon his mask.

It drips like molten tar from a squeaky faucet. Like tormented rainfall in a twisted nightmare.

He looks at Ajax again and his mind fumbles in an attempt to keep up with itself. Not paprika. Blood and skin. Another crime. Murder. Death. The crime scene and its weapon. His mask and his murky childhood. He heaves a quivering breath, turning his hands over in order to ground himself. This is real blood from a real person. It’s not fake and it’s certainly not any type of spice. With his heart now forced into overdrive, he can feel the beginnings of an unfamiliar emotion taking root within his head. The ocean he once floated upon has dried up and he’s sitting on an island with Ajax’s decomposing corpse, desolate and lonely. 

And his secret is lost in the sand, buried six feet deep. 

He just killed a man. It’s been years since the cycle has repeated itself, but now he’s done it. He slashed his throat; it actually happened. And he has to part the curtain on a sight that’s visceral and gory in order to come to terms with it. The gash opens up with severed vocal chords that have been peeled away by the blade as if his skeleton intends to step out of the fleshy prison that encases it. Maybe he cut deep enough to reach the trachea. Although the dermis is known to be thick, it broke so easily when faced with the sharpness of his box cutter. Despite that, Xiao doesn’t like the sight that’s sprawled before him. Ajax doesn’t look right with a slit throat and his blood is too red and his skin is too ghostly. 

I hate you. 

He inhales, holds that breath, and then exhales.

Hate you. Hate you. Hate you. Hate you. 

Everything is reeling at a speed that’s far too turbulent for his liking, but he still manages to stand up. There’s only so much time he can spend with Ajax’s corpse. For good measure, he avoids the blood that’s beginning to pool around his head, backing away slowly. The box cutter slips into his pocket with ease, staining the inside of his jacket in that foreboding color. It feels like he was just alive mere seconds ago, breathing and speaking and struggling, but Xiao can’t be certain of how much time has passed. 

Rather than dwelling on it, he retreats into the darkness before anyone can catch him and snap a picture. He won’t make the same mistake twice. 

And Ajax is proof of that vow.

next chapter → [bitter & salty]

[f-o-r-g-e-t-m-e-n-0-t]

Roxas is… not what Axel expects, that much is certain.

He enters Axel’s studio and immediately sheds the heavy white robes worn by the holy guardians. Axel had expected to paint him wearing those robes, but Roxas just scoffs and waves the idea away like a fly.

“Too stuffy,” he says, and Axel finds he agrees. Beneath the robes, Roxas wears a dark top with a high collar and no sleeves. The black fabric is intricately embroidered, the light picking up the delicate stitching as Roxas shifts, and Axel finds the dark hues much more complimentary to his skin than the white robes.

Roxas lounges in the chair provided, legs crossed, leaned back because no, he won’t sit up straight and stiff and rigid. If the leaders at the Grand Capital have a problem with such a relaxed portrait, so be it.

Axel wasn’t sure what he expected Roxas to be like. It wasn’t this, but Axel thinks he rather likes it.

Roxas likes to listen, Axel finds. Each day he comes in to sit for his portrait, and each day he asks something about Axel. About his home, his friends, his family, his painting. The corner of Roxas’ eyes crinkle when he smiles.

He likes to hear about the mundane. Axel says on more than one occasion that he must be boring Roxas, but Roxas just shakes his head. Tells Axel to keep going, to keep telling him about the neighbors or the woman who owns the bakery or of Axel’s school days.

“Where are you from?” Axel finally asks one days, and Roxas’ smile fades. Axel winces.

Roxas is a mystery, it seems, even to the other guardians. No one know who he is, where he hails from. Some have tried to claim connection to him, but all have been shown to be lying. For all anyone knows, Roxas simply appeared out of thin air that day he saved Axel’s home.

Axel thought maybe, maybe after so many hours spent together, he might be able to ask such a question. But..

“I can’t tell you that,” Roxas says, firm, unyielding.

“Can’t..?” Axel ventures, pushing back, glancing from his paint to his subject. “Or won’t?”

“Can’t.”

Can’t.

It bothers Axel. One word rolling around in his skull, keeping him awake late into the night. Can’t. Roxas can’t tell Axel where he comes from. Can’t tell him who he is or anything beyond surface information. No history, no personal details. He can’t.

Can’t.

And Axel doesn’t know why.

Nor does he know what price Roxas paid for his blessing from the Leviathan. All guardians must sacrifice something of great value to be considered worthy of a Holy Medium’s blessing. And each medium is different, picky in both who they find worthy, and what they find an appropriate exchange for their power. Where one might accept a sacrifice of all wealth and power, another light only accept a more… bloody offering.

What Roxas gave up to wield the Leviathan’s power? He won’t say. Can, he tells Axel, but won’t.

The alarm goes out one day in the middle of their session, the bells tolling to warn of an oncoming attack. Roxas is out of his chair in and instant, a flash of light and the glimmering trident of the Leviathan is in his hand.

“Stay here,” he warns Axel, as though Axel could actually go anywhere or do anything to help - his stay in the Grand Capital for the portrait has been closely monitored and it’s unlikely he’d be allowed out in an attack.

Roxas doesn’t bother with the door, instead opting to leap out the window, sprinting and flying across rooftops, off to confront whatever may be on its way.

He doesn’t return for hours.

Axel is packing up his paints, the sun having long since set, when a sound at the window draws his attention. Roxas slips back inside slowly and, without a word, goes to slump in his portrait chair. He’s quiet for a long time, eyes distant. It’s a look Axel’s become familiar with.

For all his laughter and light, so too has Axel caught something darker behind those eyes. A sad, distant expression, when Roxas far, far away in all but body. He’s tried to ask Roxas about it before, but Roxas’ answers are elusive as ever, and thus Axel can only watch and wait when he slips into such quiet reflection.

It’s a long time before he speaks again.

“I traded myself for this power,” he says. It’s not what Axel expected, and all he can do is stare at Roxas, waiting for him to continue, should he choose.

And he does.

“The price of wielding the holy trident… was just everything that I am. My name and my face are all that’s left of who I was. But the memory of who I was… it’s gone.” His voice is rough, hoarse, and he stares up at the ceiling with a tired, forlorn expression.

“Everyone I ever knew has forgotten me. My very image has been burned from every portrait I was ever in. My existence has been washed from memory like footprints in the sand.

“I can’t tell you where I’m from,” he says, turning those blue eyes to Axel. They seem to flow in the moonlight, Axel’s discovered. Two moonlit lagoons brimming with a deep, deep well of power.

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to. My tongue is bound by the deal I made. Just know,” he sighs, heavy and tired as he stands from his chair once again. “that I don’t regret it.”

“I look so…. Normal.”

Axel winces and glances over at Roxas, trying to gauge his thoughts.

His portrait is done, revealed in grand style to the public to be displayed along with the others. A long line of Holy Guardians painted one by one, with Roxas as the newest addition. Some of the elders did scoff, of course, when they laid eyes on the more casual image of Roxas.

Now, the man in questions stands at Axel’s side, staring up at his own face on canvas. The only image of him in existence.

“Is that… bad?” Axel finally asks. He doesn’t care if the public or the elders don’t like the portrait. But Roxas…

“It’s perfect,” Roxas says, turning that oh-so familiar smile on Axel. “It feels… like being known.”

Axel swallows hard, pushing down a strange tug at his heart. He doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s honored, of course, and yet…

“I don’t regret it,” Roxas tells him, as though reading his thoughts. “I… knew the price I was paying when I made my bargain. And I did it…” a deep breath. “I did it so that people like you can do… this.” He gestures towards his portrait. “Maybe you think your life is mundane, but it’s the mundane I want to protect. I want to protect the small things. The ability to paint, to bake bread, to play in rivers or take long naps on warm summer days. That’s… why I do this.”

Turning to Axel now, Roxas smiles at him in a way that feels like the end.

“I’m glad I got to see you, Axel.”

Axel was a painter. And a good one at that.

Years of practice and hard work granted him keen eyes and deft hands. He was able to sell his original works, and for a decent amount at that, though he made better money on commissions and portraits.

And he was asked to do a lot of portraits.

It was good work. Work he took pride in. Work that stimulated his mind and fed his soul as well as his belly. It was a good life.

A life that, not too long ago, Axel thought impossible.

Once a thriving city, Axel’s home had fallen generations before him when the Holy Medium - the Great Leviathan - went silent, no longer protecting the city. Buildings were destroyed, the land torn asunder. The great chapel where the Holy Medium resided, originally built above the water just off the coast, was now cut off from the land when great beasts had destroyed the connecting bridges. The scourge only stopped when the land was too decimated to be worth ravaging anymore.

That was centuries ago. Those who stayed - like Axel’s family - had slowly rebuilt. Homes cobbled on top of ruble and ancient streets. With the beasts sights set on other parts of the world and the Holy Medium quiet, the city enjoyed some semblance of peace once again. So much so that people began to travel to the once holy city in search of that peace. And with them, the scourge came once again. An endless cycle of prosperity and destruction. A cycle not unique to his city.

When they came, Axel had put down his brush and picked up a sword to become a hunter of beasts. It wasn’t a career he wanted, but to protect his home and those he loved, it had been an easy - if not happy - choice to make.

He had been good at it too. Or perhaps just lucky. And one day that luck ran out, Axel left gravely injured. His hunting days were over, assuming he survived the injury itself. He still remembers laying in the hospital ward, feverish and pained as the doctors and nurses did their best to stave off infection and blood loss.

So too does he remember the night the onslaught came. The bells began to toll, a loud, deafening sound that warned of an oncoming beast attack. There was yelling in the streets, and when he hobbled for he window, a passerby warned him of the attack. A hoard of beasts the likes of which they’d never seen before was on its way. The city would surely fall.

Axel was in no shape to fight. But neither was he in any shape to run, and at least if he picked up his sword, he might give another enough time to escape.

He remembers hobbling into the street, sword in hand, a fool on a death march. He remembers watching the wave of dark beasts descending on the city, like a wave. He remembers stealing himself for the inevitable end…

And he remembers Roxas.

Vividly. Brightly. He can recall the way the blond man descended, as though from the heavens, parting the darkness like the sea. He was golden, bathed in light and wielding the holy trident of Leviathan - the remarkable man having somehow reached the cutoff temple, somehow made contact with the long dormant medium, and had been blessed with her power.

Roxas brought the rains with him, washing the city in holy waters as he wiped the beastly scourge from its streets. He was something special, a blessing out of the blue, and all anyone could do in that moment was watch in awe.

Axel remembers it so well…

And thus, it’s and honor when he learns he has been picked - hand selected by Roxas himself - to paint the portrait of the new Guardian.