#I'm not going to sleep for 16 days straight when I start working on that...

[solradguy]

Got the new extrusion gears installed in the Ender and the whole thing recalibrated. It prints buttery smooth now.

[kkarmiic]

hey hello! i'm not sure if you have witten anything like this but could you do headcanons for the demon bros with an extremely affectionate reader? like, the reader is super touchy with everyone they're close to like they need to be touching someone at all times. it can be platonic or romantic! also, would you mind doing he/him pronouns? thanks! -⭐

#’ DEMON BROS WITH AN AFFECTIONATE GN!READER

🫐’ CONTENT AND WARNINGS

\\ synopsis: hcs of the brothers reacting to an extremely affectionate gn!reader

‘+ genre: fluff

*# warnings: lesson 16 mentions in belphies part.

// authors note: there didn’t end up being any pronoun usage at all so it ended up being GN!READER

#’ LUCIFER

Since you wouldn’t be comfortable touching them (assumably) before you’re close to them, by the time your hyper affectionate nature shows you’re pretty close.

The first time it happens, Lucifer has been working for hours without any breaks and you started to feel a little more touched deprived than usual.

You end up sneaking into his study, hands clasped at your sides.

He perks his head up, assuming you were his brother and ready to tell them to go away, until he saw it was you.

“Mc?” He asks, placing down his pen.

You asked for a hug, and ofcourse he obliged.

Oh. Oh.

His arms were so warm, his grip so tight and you couldn’t help but melt into his warm embrace.

You missed the affection, you got more in the human world and you hadn’t had a hug like this in so long.

The hug lasts longer than anticipated, both of you refusing to let go, and when you do, you swear you can see the faint tint of pink brushing over his cheeks.

Since that day, you couldn’t get enough, and in all honesty, even despite his efforts to conceal it, he couldn’t either.

Lucifer is a very touched starved man, nobody gives him affection (save for diavolo)

You’d walk downstairs, ready for breakfast and press a gentle kiss against his cheek.

Ofcourse he’s very taken aback.

He secretly loves it, will tell you so in private.

But not in-front of his brothers.

You’d drag him to bed after long study sessions, be practically glued to his side, he couldn’t shake you off even if he tried.

And he doesn’t want to.

#’ MAMMON

He’d definitely be more laid back about it, but becomes a blushing stuttering mess the moment you touch him.

“Ofcourse you’d want to touch the great mammon!”

Something along those lines.

However, his greed doesn’t just encompass money, it also extends to your affection.

You’re giving one of his brothers a hug? Why would you do that when he’s right there?!

I was going to say that would be a sin; but…

The first time you hug him, one late night out, you’re so tired, eyes heavy and just wanting to fall straight to sleep.

In your drowsy haze, you lean forward and press your head into him, mumbling something about being tired.

His heart is going crazy.

Shaky hands wrap around you, a slight grin forming on his face.

Why does his chest feel so warm? Why is there butterflies in his stomach?

I mentioned peeling you off lucifer, good luck peeling mammon off of you.

He will steal random kisses (either platonically or romantically) from you, pecks when you’re cooking, when you’re getting ready, when you’re eating when-

The brothers are sick of you two.

You’re so affectionate all the time it makes them sick (light heartedly ofcourse)

#’ LEVIATHAN

He’s probably the most bashful about affection.

You’re binging an anime with him one day when you lay your head onto his shoulder, and you can feel his whole body become tense beneath you.

His eyes go wide and just a little bit frantic, and instead of his attention being on the screen, it’s now on you, and you laying on his shoulder

His heart is going to race out of his chest.

Can you hear it? Oh god what if you can hear his heart going crazy?

He is sweating and stressing.

He will eventually get more used to it, but he’s just as, if not more, touched starved than lucifer.

Cuddles in the bathtub?

Cuddles in the bathtub.

Begs Lucifer to let you be home educated with him.

That’s not going to happen I’m sorry.

Please tackle him as soon as you get home from school.

He can die a happy man in your arms.

He’s still a mess around you, don’t get me wrong.

But he makes sure you don’t need to go to anyone else for affection.

#’ SATAN

I feel like he’d be one of the most cool and collected about it all (unlike the messes above)

I do however think he’d be one of the most touch starved brothers.

He doesn’t have any interest in people, and even though he doesn’t necessarily have a need for affection.

However when you begin showing him affection, he does realise how touch starved he is.

He’s reading to you one night, you’re curled up next t him when you lay your head on his chest.

A smile tugs on his lips and he wraps his arms around you, continuing to read, but this time has a hand running circles on your back.

He prefers small affection displays, like a hand around the waist (either his or yours), or kisses as a greeting.

But since you’re hyper affectionate, you probably want to be holding hands, or curled up to him at all times (or vice versa)

He definitely likes laying in between your thighs while he reads, it’s just so… warm and relaxing.

I don’t think it’d ever be too much for him.

He just enjoys the simple things in life, and even though you’re far from simple, it’s simple affection and that’s what matters.

#’ ASMODEUS

I’m so sorry but you’d be the annoying ‘couple’ at RAD.

You know the ones who are constantly blocking the halls because they’re holding hands or kissing?

Yeah.

He’s also super affectionate, and loves when you’re affectionate with him.

It’s his favourite thing.

He definitely likes linking pinkies with you.

Cuddle with him in his soft bed!

The mattress and covers are ridiculously nice.

You’re about to sleep for a whole century in that.

He also likes indirect affectionate. Like you doing his makeup, or painting his nails (or vice versa).

You’re close enough to touch, even if only slightly.

It’s oddly calming for him.

He also really likes sharing baths with you.

The really aesthetic bubble baths with roses you see on Pinterest?

Those.

He washes your back for you and your hair.

Gives you scalp massages and back rubs.

He’s really good with affection.

#’ BELPHEGOR

This is a match made in… hell? (Positive)

You, hyper affectionate.

Belphie who sleeps all day and has been looking for a new cuddle partner.

You’re his pillow now.

You’re studying? Sorry. No, you’re coming to his bed so he can lay on you and fall asleep.

Cooking? Someone take over he wants to cuddle.

Movie nights? He’s beside you, cuddling you.

It’s also his way for making up for… everything.

It’s sad but it’s his own miniature way of dealing with it.

He doesn’t really have the energy to pepper you in kisses like the other brothers, but still.

He’s the best cuddle partner.

Belphies bed is so soft, best for sleeping. Mountains of pillows and warm fuzzy blankets.

I also headcanon he has a weighted blanket, even though he can sleep well without it it’s still nice to have.

#’ BEELZEBUB

He likes to carry you.

No matter your weight, height etc.

He will find a way to carry you, this man is STRONG.

When you first cuddle him, you’re watching a TV show together, he’s DEVOURING a big bucket of popcorn and you just put your head into his lap.

He pauses for a moment before he starts playing with your hair.

Oh he’s a cuddle bug too.

He really loves affection as-well, he just goes with what you want, and he’s comfortable with whatever.

He will let you know if you push his boundaries, but I really doubt it.

Expect to be carried around the halls of RAD.

He also does this odd thing when you’re cuddling he will take nips (albeit affectionate) out of your hands, arms and thighs.

He really appreciates the way you show your love for people, it makes him feel valued.

[savventeen]

you say the stupidest (sweetest) things

pairing: seungkwan x gn!reader rating: 16+ (for swearing) wc: 4.5k prompt: seungkwan + "things you said at 1am" summary: you say stupid shit on the best of days, so when seungkwan comes over when you're having a bad bout of insomnia, the last thing he expects to hear from you is an accidental love confession warnings: insomnia, mental health issues, dissociation mention tags: fluff, friends to lovers, first kiss, reader is a little unhinged but who isn't tbh, they're also highkey allergic to genuine expressions of love/affection but they're working on it, banter, stimming, wrestling like children to try and work through emotions, reader is some flavor of lgbt+ (they make an "i've never done anything straight in my life" joke), reader's pov is dramatic bc they're dramatic oops a/n: this is for @dokyeomin as a part of my emergency commissions (check out the post here) and this was only supposed to be 1k but it 100% got away from me... i hope you still enjoy the fluff and all of the attached nonsense <3

From: Y/n 🔪 [11:47pm]

yo kwannie if i impulsively decide to go to the 24h convenience store how harshly do u think they'll jusdge me for buying every flavor of gummy candy available *judge i wanna see if i can melt them down into one Ultimate Gummy u know for Science

Seungkwan pauses brushing his teeth and stares down at your messages.

To be fair, it's probably not the strangest thing you've ever texted him. He's known you since your second year of college, after all, so he has about half a decade of experience with all of your various y/n-isms under his belt now.

Which is how he knows to trust his gut when it tells him that this probably isn't your usual brand of nonsense.

He spits the toothpaste into the sink and dials your number. You answer on the second ring.

“Before you say anything,” you start, “I was only half-serious about the gummies thing. Like, it's a fun idea, you know? In theory. But in actuality? I do not want to deal with the mess that it would create. Or the smells. Well, the smells might actually be pretty good depending on—“

“Uh-huh,” he interrupts dryly. “Y/n, when's the last time you slept?”

The beat of silence that follows is enough to confirm his suspicions, and the hesitant “Um” that follows is just the icing on the cake, really.

He sighs. “The fact that you have to think about it says enough.”

“I don’t need to think about it,” you argue petulantly. “I just… don’t wanna tell you.”

“Y/n...” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Look, I know, I'm sorry.” And you do sound a little bit sorry, at least. “I'm just. Having an episode. Don't worry about it.”

His shoulders droop as the words sink in. “Episodes” are what you've taken to calling your intermittent bouts of serious insomnia.

Generally speaking, you sleep about as well as the average twenty-something with a caffeine addiction. But every few months or so, it's like your brain completely forgets how to shut off and you end up staying awake for 40+ hours straight.

“Well,” he says, putting his toothbrush away and going back to his bedroom. “You know that ship has sailed, right? You know I'm gonna worry about it.”

Your deep sigh crackles over the line. “Yeah, I know.”

“So. Where're we at this time?”

He mentally braces himself. The two of you have done this enough times now that he knows that you know there's no point in trying to lie or beat around the bush.

“Uhhhhhhh, I'll be hitting the 46-hour mark in about 20 minutes.”

“Aish.”

The fact that you can say that so casually makes his heart hurt. He knows that whenever he doesn't get enough sleep, he makes sure everyone knows it and thus babies him accordingly. But you've always been so intent on hiding anything and everything you struggle with. It's taken years for him to bully himself past the walls you keep hidden behind shit-eating grins and an over-willingness to help.

“Okay,” he says, moving to the dresser to grab an extra set of clothes. “I'll be over in an hour.”

“Wait. What?”

“You heard me.” He tosses the clothes onto his bed before going to grab one of his duffle bags, firmly asserting, “You've got an hour to mentally prepare yourself for my arrival.”

“Honey, you've got a big storm comin',” you quote at him without hesitating.

“You sure do,” he assures with a snort. “Better get ready to feel the wrath of my friendship.”

“Why do you have to love so aggressively?”

He rolls his eyes while he throws his clothes into the duffle bag with one hand. “Because it's the only way you'll accept it, idiot.”

“No, it isn't.”

Your pout is so audible through the phone that Seungkwan has to stop and glance at the screen in disbelief.

“Y/n. Y/n L/n. Do not stand there and lie to my face like that.”

“I'm not lying!”

“Not—” He gesticulates wildly with one hand like he's going Can you believe this shit? to an invisible TV audience. “Okay, tell me this: what did you do the last time I sincerely monologued at you about how much you mean to me as a friend, hmm? No bits, no bullshit, just me telling you how much I love you and how amazing you are.”

A beat. “I'll hang up on you, Kwannie, don't test me.”

He barely resists the urge to shove his face into the bedspread and scream. “You're literally proving my point right now!”

“Kwannieeee,” you whine, because you know he's right.

“Also, because I'm never letting you live it down, I will remind you exactly what you did."

You say his name again, but it's muffled, and he assumes it's because you're hiding your face in shame.

“I gave you a sincere, heartfelt speech about how much your friendship has changed my life for the better and made me become a better person—” he ignores your wordless pterodactyl screech, “—and how do you respond? By staring at me like a deer caught in the headlights, slowly raising your arms to give me double finger guns, winking, and then slowly backing out of the room like an awkward mannequin!”

“...”

“Well?” He puts his free hand on his hip. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“… I’ve changed a lot since then.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes before moving to continue packing his overnight bag. “It was literally three months ago.”

“Yeah, and? Doesn't change the fact that I've changed,” you assert.

“Into even more of a nuisance? Yes, you're absolutely right.” He smiles when he hears you scoff playfully.

“Listen here, Boo Seungkwan. You know that well-rested Y/n is ready to throw down with you at a moment's notice. What do you think sleep-deprived, zero-impulse-control Y/n is going to do the second you get to their front door?”

“Stop referring to themself in the third person, hopefully,” he mutters, finally zipping up his bag and heading to the door. “And then after that, they're going to let me bully them into resting.”

“Hmm. The council has heard your proposal, briefly pondered it, and deemed it “unnecessary” on the basis of: they're a bad bitch that can't be stopped by neither time nor physics nor any god of your choosing.”

Seungkwan scoffs as he puts the call on speaker and sits to put on his sneakers. “Well, “the council” can go fuck right off.”

“What if the council would like to fuck right on?”

Pausing in the middle of tying his laces, he blinks down at his phone. “I'm— what?”

“Okay, real talk, what do you think it would mean in this case? Like, would this be like a 'hop on' versus 'hop off' situation? Or more like an 'I'm down for this' versus 'I'm up for this' kinda situation? Because it would have very different outcomes depending.”

Seungkwan decides that this is a debate better left for another time. “I think it means that I'm going to be at your house soon and that if you're not in your pajamas with hot Sleepy Time tea and the series Planet Earth ready to go, there will be consequences.”

“Booooooo, you whore.”

He finishes tying his laces and jabs his finger at the phone. “Consequences, Y/n.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“See you soon, love you, bye.” He hangs up before you can get another word in, but doesn't move from his seated position in the entryway.

Slowly, he takes a deep breath in and lets it out, taking a moment to lean back on his hands while he stares at the back of his front door. Specifically, at the large collage of sticky notes and pictures and doodles that have taken up residence there.

A few of the notes are ones he's gotten from other members of your shared friend group over the years (the one from Chan that reads "if u eat my rice i'll eat ur kneecaps xoxo" hangs proudly in the center, right next to a picture of him sleeping that Seungkwan managed to capture from an extremely unflattering angle). But most of them are from you.

Dumb puns, meme references, bullshit animal facts you made up just to get him to laugh… almost all of them are stupid in that extremely charming way that only you somehow manage to pull off.

But the one he's staring at now is almost completely hidden by other notes and pictures that have been added to the collage. It's a pale blue, the ink starting to fade a bit with time — the first note you ever gave him, back when you two were just people who happened to sit next to each other in an astronomy class.

Even though most of it is hidden, he doesn't need to be able to see all the tiny words you crammed into the small space to already know exactly what it says.

how do u make a space party? u planet :P u looked sad today, hope this makes u feel a little better also if this is 2 forward feel free 2 pretend i don't exist. or punt me in2 the sun idk u'd be doing me a favor tbh

He'd almost skipped class that day because of how bad he'd been feeling, but he'd decided to try and push through. And before that day, neither of you had interacted with more than a polite greeting and the occasional question about the homework.

But then you'd passed him that note, and he'd passed one back that said “that's dumb. but thank you” with a smiley face, and you'd passed another one back that said “do u think lizard people have ever been to space?” and the rest, they say, is history.

Seungkwan shakes his head with a sigh before standing up and grabbing his bag and his keys, striding determinedly out the door. He's got a best friend to take care of.

Seungkwan should be at your place soon, and you're not quite sure what to do in the meantime.

You have your laptop hooked up to the monitor in the living room with Planet Earth queued up, you have the kettle filled with water and ready to go on the stove, and you have mugs and teabags ready on the counter next to it.

The Required Tasks™️ have been completed as much as possible without the arrival of your best friend, and now all that's left to do is wait.

Which, normally, you're not the worst at. You're excellent at entertaining yourself, actually, mostly because there's always something to think about. Whether it be about cute dogs that you've seen over the past week (I wonder if the pomeranian down the street will let me pet him next time), potential plot twists for the new fantasy drama you're a little bit obsessed with (what if Gregothy was cursed the whole time???), or generic ponderings of the human existence as a whole (do souls have the metaphysical equivalent of a fingerprint?), you're pretty much always thinking about something.

Which is totally fine and dandy and cool or whatever when you have the ability to, you know, shut it off. For example, when you need to do something simple and necessary like, oh I don't know, go the fuck to sleep.

You also hate when that manic mental energy somehow translates into kinetic energy as well. It makes you feel like a hamster in a cage, watching yourself running and running and running on that stupid wheel until you exhaust yourself.

Tonight's metaphorical wheel: stimming like wild in the kitchen. Flapping, rocking, (gently) slapping, making weird and fun mouth sounds, the whole shebang.

And again, normally stimming is fun. Stimming is great. But stimming because you feel like if you don't stop moving you're going to literally vibrate out of your skin is, to put it lightly, Not It.

It takes you about ten minutes to work out all of the energy until you no longer feel like your blood was replaced with pop rocks.

With a groan, you lower yourself to the kitchen floor and lay down face first. Because despite how exhausted you feel in every possible way, there's still something like an itch in your conscious, a fucking pea underneath the miles of mattresses that refuse to let you just. Fucking. Sleep.

Your pity party must've lasted longer than you realized (or, more likely, you dissociated for a hot second there) because suddenly someone's knocking at your door at the same time you get a text from Seungkwan.

And you know it's a text from Seungkwan specifically because you got Vernon to help you change your notification settings so that whenever Seungkwan texts you, the "i love you.. bitch" sound clip plays instead of a normal text tone.

For a fraction of a second, you contemplate slowly inching your way to the door like an uncoordinated caterpillar, but you swat the thought aside like you’re swatting a gnat and you awkwardly roll to your feet and make your way to your front door.

Without hesitating, you unlock the door, swinging it open with a flourish and sticking a finger right in Seungkwan's face before he can utter a single syllable, forcing him to cross his eyes.

You open your mouth wide like you're going to say something, pause for a moment, then tap your pointed finger to his nose with a quiet "boop."

He blinks, expression turning deadpan, and sighs. "I should have expected this, honestly."

“Yep!”

You let him into your apartment, and he makes himself right at home, mildly bitching at you as he goes to get the tea ready, and something within you shifts.

The inside of your head is still a bit of a dumpster fire, unfortunately, but inside your chest... something clicks into place that you're not sure that you're ready to name. Whatever it is, though, it's soft and warm and kinda feels like your heart is being hugged.

Smiling to yourself, you follow him into the kitchen.

💤 💤 💤 💤 💤

It was pretty much straight to “business” after that, and it only takes Seungkwan one cup of tea and two episodes listening to David Attenborough's dulcet narrations for him to knock right out, leaning heavily against your shoulder on the couch.

Which means it's now the perfect time to sit there and Admire Your Bro™️.

It's rare to see him so still, you think. He's an active guy, in pretty much every sense of the word, and you always feel a little honored when you get to be witness to his quiet, vulnerable moments like this one.

He looks so serene, face smoothed out and painted in soft twirling shades of blue from the screen of the monitor, though you can't see too much of it from this angle. Mostly you just see his cheeks and stupidly adorable button nose.

And you've seen the same thing a million times before — in all kinds of states and expressions — and despite how much you've tried to ignore it, each and every time you've caught yourself noticing just how cute Seungkwan is, it's caused that thing in your heart to scrunch up, full of the L-word feeling that you've kept unnamed for what feels like forever now.

Except, maybe that thing in your heart is tired of scrunching up. Maybe it's decided that it's tired of forever.

Maybe that thing has finally decided to burrow itself out of the walls you've built up because you find yourself finally allowing yourself to think, Holy shit, I think I'm in love with you.

You don't realize that Seungkwan has completely stilled against you, but you certainly notice when he suddenly throws himself forward so he can turn around and stare at you incredulously. Only he overshoots a little bit and ends up falling off the couch with a squawk and a dramatic flail.

"Oh my god, Kwannie are you okay?!"

He stares at you from where he fell, wide-eyed like you've grown a second head or like the time you'd tried to convince him that birds weren't real and actually just a government conspiracy.

"Am— am I okay? No??"

Now it's your turn to move off of the couch, coming down to his level to see if maybe he hurt himself when he fell. "Fuck, okay, did you hit something? Do you need an icepack?"

Seungkwan being Not Okay is maybe one of the worst things that could ever happen in the entire universe and you're trying not to panic as you reach out to check for injuries.

"No, no, stop—" he bats away at your hands and you stop in your motions, now kneeling in front of him. "I'm not hurt!"

Your brain does the cartoonish screech thing as it comes to a halt, and you furrow your brows. "But.. you just said you're not okay?"

"I'm not!" His eyes are still wide in shock, but he also looks confused and maybe a little bit like he's about to cry?

Oh no. If he cries and it's somehow your fault (because it has to somehow be your fault) you think the world might actually end.

"Okay, uh. I am— confused,” you start, sure you must look as lost as you feel. “But, um, what can I do to help?"

He swallows, and a part of you realizes that he's looking at you with an expression you've never seen before. "Did you mean it?"

Knowing that it's significant but not yet knowing why, you maintain eye contact. "Mean what?"

"What you just said."

You blink. "...that I'm confused?"

He shakes his head. "No, before that."

You have a hard time remembering what you just said when you're not sleep-deprived and worried you've just somehow accidentally caused irreparable emotional damage to your best friend. "Uh... when I asked if you were okay?"

"No, fuck," and it's a shock for some reason, hearing him cuss right now. You hear him say much worse things all the time, but you think it might be the way he said it — with a kind of desperate vulnerability that you're not sure you've ever heard from him before.

That thing in your chest twinges and you think maybe you're the one who's gonna start crying.

He says your name like a plea, and then he's on his knees right in front of where you're kneeling on the floor, reaching forward to cup your face in his palms. "You said— Y/n, you said "holy shit I think I'm in love with you.””

Oh.

You're pretty sure your heart falls right out of your ass and bounces across the rug, judging from the way it comes to a dead stop. You blink at him. Full of new and sinking kind of dread, you whisper, "...I said that out loud?"

He laughs, but it's tinged with incredulity and sounds a little too close to a sob for comfort. "Yes! You did!"

And wait, no, your heart is still stuck in your chest, because you can feel it start pounding against your ribcage in double, triple, quadruple time. He must see the fear in your expression, because suddenly his eyes are narrowed in a determined scowl and he growls, "Oh no you don't."

Then you find yourself going down with a yelp as Seungkwan octopuses himself around you, trapping you within the confines of his surprisingly strong arms and legs as he basically tackles you to the floor.

You try and wiggle away even as you know it's useless, and he grits, "Y/n dammit, answer my question."

"Why were you even awake?” You deflect, getting an arm free and trying to give him a wedgie. “You were supposed to be asleep!"

"I was supposed to be asleep?!” He screeches, easily evading your reach and poking your ribs to get you to reflexively pull back your arm. “You're the one who hasn't slept in literal days! And stop avoiding my question!"

"No!" He has you trapped once again, and you resort to licking his arm.

"Oh my god!"

He muffles his scream into your shoulder, long and frustrated, and then he just... goes limp. He loosens his hold and just lets his full body weight kinda crush the parts of you he's ended up lying on and just... lays there.

This is your chance, you know — to wiggle free and escape and run away from your feelings just like you always have.

But, for some reason, you don't — that scrunched-up thing in your chest holds you back. You stay there, lying beneath Seungkwan on the floor of your living room at one-something in the morning, and the two of you just breathe.

"It's okay, you know," he murmurs after a moment, so quiet you barely hear him over David Attenborough still narrating softly in the background. "If you didn't mean it. It's okay."

Holy shit, I think I'm in love with you.

And you realize how easy it would be to play it off, to blame it on the sleep deprivation, the way you blurted it out like that — to say (to lie) you meant it completely platonically, like the way you propose to Mingyu at least once a month when he cooks you all dinner.

And you also realize, quite shockingly, that despite how a part of you still desperately wants to run away, the larger part of you wants to stay. Doesn't want to run. Doesn't want to lie anymore.

You swallow heavily, briefly close your eyes, and take in a deep breath. "And if I did? Mean it?"

This time, you do notice when Seungkwan goes still. Slowly, he lifts his head so he can look you in the eyes.

When he doesn't say anything, just continues to look at you with an unreadable expression, you try to continue.

"Would you— would that— would it be okay? If I meant it? When I— when I said that I'm in love with you? Is— because um, like you said, it's okay if it's not, and uh—"

Your nervous rambling comes to a stop when he once again cups your face, but it's gentler than before, closer to a caress. The whole time you'd been talking he'd been slowly sitting up, and now he's on his knees next to where you're still lying down on the floor, looking down at you like all the hope in the world is somewhere to be found in your expression.

"Y/n." he says your name like it's something precious, and you feel the absurd urge to burst into tears. "It would be very okay." His thumbs make gentle arcs across your cheeks. "And just to be clear: you mean it in a non-platonic sense, right?” He chews on his lip. “Hopefully, in a very much romantic sense?"

Staring at him staring at you, eyes bright with hope and a little bit of wonder... you can only imagine you must be looking at him the same way. Your chest feels like it's full of helium but also like something warm and gooey is sloshing around in there. And all that hope and wonder and holy shit is this actually happening? is causing your tongue to stick to the roof of your mouth, and all you're able to get past your lips is a breathless, "Hopefully?"

"Oh my god," he groans in frustration, but it's light and airy and makes you think of amusement park rides and fairy lights and how you want to annoy the shit out of this man for the rest of his life, if he'll let you. He's shaking his head, smiling, beaming, and he asks, "Why can you never give me any kind of a straight answer, huh?"

"Because it's my life's purpose to be the bane of your existence until the day we die," you say, reaching up to hold his face too. "Also because I've never done anything straight ever in my life."

And then your body is moving before your brain can think it though, dragging him down until you can press your lips to his and finally, finally know what it's like to kiss Boo Seungkwan.

He makes a little noise of surprise, one that you can feel buzz against your lips before he melts into you. And oh, any thoughts you might have had are forcefully ejected from your brain because all you can focus on are his lips pressed to yours, the way they move slowly, gently, turning this chaste kiss into the most scorching experience of your life. His nose bumps against yours and the heat of his warm breath sends tingles throughout your body, and his hands, fuck, his hands are still holding you gently but also with a firmness that feels like he doesn't want to let you go.

And then he's pulling away, and you whine at him because this may be the cruelest thing he's ever done to you ever in your entire life. "Noooooo, why'd you stop?"

"Because, as much as I'd love to continue to make out with you on your floor while an old British man narrates about life on the Serengeti—” he mercifully ignores the way you choke on your spit at the way he talks about making out with you so nonchalantly "—it's past someone's bedtime."

Your mouth drops open in offended shock. Was he actually going to put you to bed like a child? Like you both hadn't just declared your romantic love for each other? "Are you fucking serious?"

He just stands up and crosses his arms, looking down at you with a single raised eyebrow. You take the part of you that finds it annoyingly attractive and promptly smother it, crossing your own arms from your position on the floor.

"I'm not a baby," you definitely don't pout.

"Hmmm...” And then the bastard fucking pouts at you. “But you're my baby."

You blink at him.

"Welp, that was nice while it lasted,” you grunt, rolling to your feet, “but I suddenly need to relocate to Antarctica and become a penguin herder.”

He pulls you into his arms with a laugh, and you let him, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

“You know,” he starts after he's held you for a few moments. “This isn't how I ever imagined how us confessing to each other would go.”

You snort.

“But also,” he continues, “it feels very 'us' doesn't it?”

"Yeah,” you murmur, not bothering to lift your head from his shoulder.

“Mmm, is someone finally sleepy?” he teases, starting to waddle you both towards your bedroom. “Did all the emotions finally wear you out?”

Instead of nodding, you lightly kick him in the shin and the sappy part of your brain that is currently in charge of everything thinks that his indignant squawk is one of your most favorite sounds.

The sappy part of your brain is right, of course, and when you wake up in your bed 15 hours later and accidentally smack him in the face, the urge to run is a little bit smaller than it was before. And the way he flushes bright red after you sleepily kiss him on the cheek is an image you're going to cherish until the day you die.

[effy-writes]

Fizz x Fem! Reader: Happy Day

requested from my friend :D

You and Fizz grew up together, but not in the circus. You were always in the audience and grew fond of him. He always noticed you, and ever since you became a regular he would search for you in the audience.

About age 7 he came up to you after the show and started talking. Getting to know your name, which ring you're from, (he was shocked that you were born in the Lust ring), etc. Eventually you guys would hang out before and after his performances just about every day.

When you guys were 16 he gave you flowers and finally asked you to be his girlfriend.

Blitzo and Barbie always made fun of you two. Barbie found it sweet, saying that Fizz deserves you, but Blitzo was definitely jealous.

The day the fire happened you were hanging out with Fizz in the tent celebrating his birthday. Until this day you believed you should’ve been the one to get injured. Fizz wanted to save your life.

Before the fireworks went off he pushed you far away where only he would get the impact. The sides of your body were in white, but you didn't lose arms or legs like you should've.

The following months was definitely traumatizing for the both of you. You stayed by his side everyday until he got better, and during those times you would always apologize and saying you should be the one in that bed, not him, but Fizz loved you. He wanted to sacrifice himself so you wouldn’t be injured, or even worse killed. He didn’t want to lose you.

Once he got better you tracked down Asmodeus and asked him if he could make Fizz mechanical arms and legs so he would be able to perform again.

Right when Fizz got acclimated to his new arms and legs he went straight away to Mammon to audition, and he was a sensation.

So popular that he got his own sex robots, servant robots, he was the most popular jesters all throughout Hell. You were never jealous, but you were definitely afraid of him getting hurt again.

As years went by you could tell that Mammon has been draining Fizz. You always told your boyfriend that you're worried about him, but he shrugged it off and kept telling you that he's okay. You asked Fizz if he could try working at Ozzie's since you worked there and they were hiring. You hoped that Fizz would stop being underneath Mammon’s wing by him working there, but he was still underneath his wing.

Once Blitzo (now you learned it's Blitz) got into your live’s again you were kinda hesitant, but saw how clearly Fizz needed his best friend back. It did cheer him up a bit, but he was still stressed out about being the perfect clown.

It was that time of the year for Fizz to audition again, and this time you actually put your foot down. You called Blitz to go with you to try to convince Fizz to not do this thing again.

So now the two of you are trying to get Fizz to quit but he didn't.

Until finally the end of the audition he literally said, "I quit."

Ever since then you can see the light back into his eyes. He gained some weight, has a new wardrobe, and is always singing and dancing with you.

"Fizz, I'm tired." You playfully whined as he spins you, "I just want to take a nap with you."

"Oh come on, you don't like dancing with me?" He teased.

You placed your hands on his shoulders as you two swayed left and right. "I love your dancing, and I'm glad youve been happier since Mammon, but I'm SO tired and I really want to take a nap with you." You smiled.

"Okay, okay, fine." He fake pouted.

"How about after this nap we go out to eat at Ozzie's hm?"

"The place where we work at? Let's eat somewhere else."

You climbed on the bed and got underneath the covers. "Like what?"

Fizz laid down beside of you, resting his head on your chest. "How about...Hearts?"

"Sure."

Instead of going to sleep, the two of you kept switching sleeping positions. First you were on your back while he was on his side hugging you, then you turned over to where he was big spoon, then vice versa. The two of you kept laughing whenever the other person would move.

One moment he was on his back while you were in-between his legs with your head resting on his stomach.

Finally you crawled up to where your head was on his chest with him rubbing your back in circles. He looked over at the penis shaped alarm clock and the time read 3:50. He gently shook you.

“Hm?”

“It’s almost 4. Were you wanting that dinner?”

“Yeah.” You mumbled.

“Then get ready.” He shook you a little harder to wake you up.

“Okay, okay fine.” You groaned. “Wanna match our outfits?”

“Of fucking course! Don’t we always?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

The two of you picked out your outfits together. He wanted to wear something purple, so you happily obliged, even if you didn’t wanna wear something with that color. You knew it made him happy.

You guys made your way to the restaurant by taking a fancy limo that offers champagne. As you looked over at him you saw him with that big smile of his that you missed for the longest time.

“Do I have champagne on my face?” He wiped his mouth.

“No, silly. I’m just admiring you.”

“Am I that handsome?” He joked.

You snickered, “Very.”

The dinner felt nice for you two. You let him talk about so many things as you listened. Not superficial things, but things that were deep inside of him. You didn’t realize how much he changed before, during, and after Mammon.

The moment you guys got home you got in your pj’s and planted back onto the bed. Fizz pulled you in closer to where he was big spoon.

“I’m so happy to be with you.” You couldn’t help but to smile.

Since he can’t feel your hands he wrapped his tail around your tail to make it like you’re holding hands. “I’m happy too.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 16

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Happy Wednesday. I didn't have to change this because apparently the last time I updated was also a Wednesday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me &lt;3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You look in the mirror, the steam receding to the frame. You look tired. You feel it. 

You put away the bottles you used for your bath and try some of the brown sugar moisturizer, hoping it might ease the dry spots left from the friction of your pillow. You cap it and place it in the basket with the rest.

You hang your towel on the rack and flip back the silver tab of the lock. You come out into the hall and nearly trip on your own toes. Andy stands casually against the wall, a dark blue towel folded over one arm, his phone in his other hand as he looks at you over the top.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I hope… hope I didn't take too long…"

"Nah, haven't been waiting long," he smiles and scratches his beard, a few tufts out of place as you hear the coarse graze of his fingertips, "sleep okay?"

You lie, "yes…You?"

"God knows I tried," he shrugs as he stands straight, "pretty shaken by the cops swinging by, you know?"

"Uh, sure," you tuck your lip under your teeth, "sorry–"

"You're not the one who needs to apologize," he waves you off and taps his thumb on the side button of his phone, crossing his arms, a gesture that emphasizes his size. "Anyway, I wanted to ask you something before I start the day."

"Oh?" Your brows squiggle together. What have you done wrong now?

"Did you wanna come to the library? I figured if you need to put together a resume for your application I could get together a few resources. It'd be a quiet place to work." He looks almost nervous as you watch his hand squeeze his phone tighter, knuckles white, "we could get some tea down at the cafe, maybe some lunch?"

You consider him and his request. It isn't a bad idea. You don't know where to start with a resume. You only imagine a blank piece of paper, as empty as your life. You try to smile, your cheeks dimpling painfully.

"Okay," you agree. 

You don't know you have the courage to say no. It is his house and it's a thoughtful idea. Amber always said you should get out when you feel grey… Amber…

"I'll go get my tablet," you say to chase away your sadness, "thanks, Andy."

"No problem," he takes a breath, relief uncoiling the tension from him. Had he really been so anxious? "You're the one doing me a favour, so thank you."

"I am?"

"Yeah, I won't complain for the company and it'll give me something to look forward to," he moves towards the bathroom door as you sidle out of his way. His hand seems to float over your shoulder just before you elude it. Instead he presses it to the door. "I'll try to hurry."

🕊️

It feels almost surreal to be back at the library. It's a reminder of everything that's happened. All that's changed.

Andy brings you in with him as he opens. You stand at the counter and watch him. He does everything with graceful certainty. It makes you insecure, there's nothing you know how to do so effortlessly.

When the library opens, it remains quiet. Andy gathers a few books for reference and you take them to the basement, wary of getting in his way as the first patrons arrive. You're much more comfortable in the isolated underground. 

You claim your usual spot and prop your tablet up in its case sideways. You open a book and delve into the basic formatting of a resume. You type your name at the top but the next line stumps you. Address? What do you put? Andy's? You don't even know it.

You skip that and put your email. Phone number? Yeah, not that either.

You work slowly. Your frustration mounts as you distract yourself with making neat margins and inserting lines over inputting any information. You have nothing to add. No skills, no experience, no value. 

You put your head in your hands and take a deep breath. You're overwhelmed by this simple task. How can you expect to have a job? Like Andy and Amber and everyone else. Everything that is so easy for them is almost impossible for you. You are dumb and worthless.

You stay like that for a while, staring at the table, fighting back tears. What are you going to tell Andy? That you're a loser. That all those expectations he has, you can't meet. Maybe you deserve everything you get, maybe Amber didn't deserve the blight of your existence.

"You're here," her voice draws your head up, as if you summoned her with your thoughts.

You blink, not believing she's real. Amber rushes forward and you sit back, staring wide eyed, terrified at her. She winces and stays on the other side of the table.

"What… why are you looking at me like that?" She clasps her hands together, "please, just listen, please," she pulls out the chair and sits, stretching and arm across the table, "I'm not here to argue–"

"How did you find me?"

"It's not that hard, I know you. I'm your sister."

You fold your arms, shrinking down, brow furrowing, heart sinking. Why is she doing this? She's only her to make you feel worse.

"I'm not here to argue, alright? I just want you to hear me."

"You called the police," you accuse.

"You left in the middle of the night," she hisses, "what was I supposed to do? I was scared."

"And so was I," you snap back. "I'm fine…" you look down and spread your hands over the pages, pushing the book flat, "I'm going to get a job."

She pauses and looks down at the book. She leans in and nods.

"That's great," she forces out stuntedly, "I can help if–"

"No," you shake your head.

She sits back and sighs, "what did I do?" 

"I told you. I'm not a child."

"I know you aren't, bubba."

"Bubba?! You talk to me like I am."

She seals her lips and swallows your word with another nod. She puts her hands on the table, as if steadying herself.

"Right, I'm not going to talk to you like a child. I'm just going to say what I came to say and you can choose to hear me or not." She takes a breath and sets her jaw, "that man does not want to help you. You can't see it but he doesn't want what's best for you, I do.

"I know you've made your choice but it's the wrong one. I can't change your mind, police said they won't bring you back, but I can at least try to talk some sense into you. You do what you want, be the adult you claim to be, but at the end of the day, you're my sister and you always will be.

"Bubba, if this all goes wrong, when it does, I will be waiting. My door is open. Today, tomorrow, in a week, a year, whenever you need me–"

She shudders as her eyes glisten and she puts her palm to her chest, "please just think about what you're doing."

You drop your chin. Your heart clenches. Amber always sounds right. She's always been there but you just can't go back. It feels cowardly to change your mind just because you have to do things for yourself. 

And you just don't believe her. You want to so bad but you see what she's doing. Andy showed you what to look for; she's playing the victim. She hurt you, you didn't hurt her. She couldn't handle you being out of control and now she's panicking.

"Bub…" she utters. You just stare at your lap. "Let me know if you need anything. I'll bring you whatever you want–"

"Hoovering," you whisper, tilting your head up slightly at Amber's confused hum, "it's when a narcissist tries to win back someone they lost. Through spontaneous contact and making empty promises…"

"Bubba, how– I wouldn’t do that."

"I thought you wouldn't… before."

She lingers for a moment. She stands slowly and fixes her purse on her shoulder. She looms over the table and lets out a shallow breath that sounds like a sob.

"You know I'll pick up the phone. I'll be there…" she drags her fingers across the table, "whenever you need me."

She hesitates before she turns to leave. You hear her gulping as she steps between the shelves and steps shuffle out from the staircase.

"Hey, what are you–" Andy's accusation fills the silence, "dove! Are you okay?"

"Shut up," Amber growls, "and don't touch me." You look up as she shoves away his hand on her arm, "I'm leaving…" her voice is sticky with repressed grief, "she won't listen. Are you happy you fucking monster?"

He squares his shoulders and looks at her, glares down his nose, "I'm helping her. Something you never did."

"Fuck yourself. If you hurt her, I will–"

"That won't work. You're not going to stand here and scare her," he snarls, "so go."

They lock in a staredown before Amber elbows past him, marching to the stairs and stopping to look back down at the aisle. You sink down and cover your face. You feel a pit swallowing up. This shouldn't be so hard. None of it. Writing this damn resume or living your own life. It's so hard.

🕊️

You sit in the cafe, watching the street through the window from your seat in the corner. You feel as if you're outside your own body, like you're floating over the pedestrians, watching from some secret tower. You close your eyes and see the blank document etched into your retinas. 

The clink of a dish brings your head up. You sit back, limp and barely able to support your own weight. You just feel empty.

Andy sets down a sandwich before you, beside the steaming tea you hadn't touched. He gives a sheepish smile as your eyes bore past him. He sits and places a napkin beside you plate.

Neither the sight or scent of food can stir your appetite. You can't even remember the last time you ate. Last night you pushed around the casserole noodles until he stopped paying attention.

"Looks good," he says as he reaches for his foamy coffee. "I grabbed a little surprise for dessert tonight," he says as he sets his cup down and pats his jacket pocket.

You nod and clear your throat. The simple act hurts.

"Thank you," you force out.

"Well," he hovers his hand over his plate, "dig in. It looks delicious and I'm sure you're starving."

"Uh, sure," you drone and consider the thick sandwich; a croissant stacked with turkey and swiss, a leaf of lettuce and slice of tomato peeking out.

You grab your cup instead and take a swig. You hum, "I didn't even try my tea," you distract him, "how's your coffee?"

"Good, mocha usually isn't my thing but not bad. Gotta try new things, right, dove?"

"Mhmm," you peel away the edge of the lettuce and make yourself nibble it. It tastes awful. Everything is terrible.

"Been a good day, so far, not too busy," he carries on, "how's the resume coming?"

You shrug, "not done…"

He clucks and nods, letting out a long breath. He leans forward and picks up his ham and cheddar on rye. He takes a bite as you tear away some of the croissant and pretend to chew on the end.

"So… guess we should talk," he swallows, "about your sister."

"I don't want to," you whine, "please–"

"I need to know what she said, honey. To protect you. Like last night, hm? When she sent the cops after you like some criminal."

"She was only worried," you rebuff.

"About herself. About making herself feel better by standing on your back," he puts and elbow on the table, lowering his brow in a serious way, "I tell you every day you can do anything, and what did she ever do but tell you not to even try."

You frown. Your heart is in pieces. You don't want to be here. You don't want to be anywhere.

"I'll keep working on my resume," you say, "I'll be done it soon."

He huffs and sniffs at his sandwich before taking another bite. He is silent as he swallows, his gaze weighing on you.

"We can get a box if you wanna take that back with you. No eating in the stacks but just don't let anyone see."

"Thank you, Andy," you say, "I'll be hungry later for sure."

"Mhmm," he taps his foot under the table, letting the silence hang.

You cross your arms and sit back, looking past him to the street again. You wish you had somewhere to be with a briefcase, or were running to catch a bus, you wish you had any purpose but to be a burden.

🕊️

You put the casserole in as Andy mutters to himself and flips through the channels. He says there's some ball game on. You're happy he at least had something to fill the void of your conversations.

You wait in the kitchen. You watch the timer countdown and when it dings you take out the pan. You set it on the counter and scoop out a healthy helping into a plate. You take a fork and knife and rest it on the rim, going to stand in the archway that looks into the front room.

"Do you wanna eat here or at the table?"

Andy looks over, his arm stretched over the back cushion of the grey couch.

"I'll come eat with you," he volunteers as he sits forward.

"No, it's okay. I'm going to lay down… I have a headache."

"A headache? I have advil," his forehead creases with concern.

"Already took something. I think it's going to rain…"

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I… was looking forward to eating together."

"It's okay. Tomorrow," you promise, "please, enjoy and watch your game."

His mouth slants as you approach and put the plate on the coffee table. You feel uneven and wobbly. You just want to sleep until you can't wake up.

"I'm sure I'll feel better tomorrow," you step back and hide a yawn behind your hand.

"I hope so," he says, "I'll check on you before I turn in. Just to make sure you're okay."

"You don't have to…"

"I want to," he insists, "you know where to find me if you need anything.'

You slowly back away. You turn and drag your feet to the door. You don't need anything but to be alone.

[kifflepiffles]

Fixed Francis, Nacha, and Anastacha headcanon backstory;

(This is also basing off the fact that in the 40s and 50s, to avoid judgement, it was very common to kick out and disown a child if they got pregnant or knocked someone up while young and/or before marriage)

When Nacha was pregnant with Anastacha, Francis was very distant and full of dread. He feared the idea of being a father, but couldn't bring himself to just leave. The two of them were highschool sweethearts, only 16 and 17 years old when she was born. They dropped out of highschool and went straight to work to rent an apartment together and start saving for the baby. The stress, distance, and general growing apart as they matured lead to them mutually breaking up when Nacha was 6 months pregnant, but agreeing to both co-parent actively.

He was there for Nacha when Ana was born, holding her hand, advocating for her to the doctors, and retrieving things she wanted. He was nauseous with anxiety. Between the stress and the blood, he had blacked out twice.

But not long after Anastacha was born, he snapped out of his dread. His fear of becoming a father had vanished the moment he got to hold her. Its one of his favorite memories. Nacha was taking a nap and didn't want the baby to be in the nursery where she couldn't watch her, so Francis took her. At first, he sat in an armchair in the hospital room, tense and awkward as the newborn slept in his arms. But he watched her breathe, observed her, watching her hand grasp his finger, and noticed his features in her. She had his eyes.

When Nacha woke up, Francis was leaning back in the chair with Anastacia against his chest and was a sobbing, shaking mess. Nacha pretended to be asleep a bit longer until Ana cried to be fed to not disrupt them. She had never seen Francis cry, let alone hysterically, before their daughter's birth.

He vowed to stay as close as possible for the sake of his daughter; To be in her life whilst keeping a distance from her mother for both of their comfort. It's the reason why they live in the same apartment despite mutually breaking up when Nacha was pregnant, which they moved into when Ana was a few months old and sleeping through the night. It's why he puts up with his job, despite it draining him. It's lonely, but he's there for his daughter, and he cherishes his sweet baby girl.

When Anastacha was an infant, Francis wasn't a milkman yet. He took a job with a night shift, hence why he's still so tired. (Fun fact, when you're young, not sleeping enough leads to chronic fatigue as an adult. Don't make the same mistake francis made, and the mistake I'm trying to fix while I'm still under 20 :'] )

Nacha had a part time job while she went through a culinary certification class. During the day, Francis took care of Ana and would take naps with her. Then he handed her off to Nacha when she got home around 4 or 5, slept until 8:30, then headed off to work by 9. When Nacha got her job as a chef, the two of their incomes was enough to hire a babysitter for the day a few times a month. Ana would be in one apartment, and both Nacha and Francis would spend the day in the other apartment, catching up on sleep. This was their schedule until Ana was about 6 or 7 and in school, and could spend an hour or so unattended, playing with toys and watching TV until either of them arrived home from work. It was around this time that Francis picked up his milkman job

From the time Ana was a toddler, Nacha and Francis taught her how to navigate between the two of their apartments. Both of them are truly like home to her. Even if her childhood was a bit nerve racking for them, as their baby was running around the hallways with little attendance. But it was a bit nice when she was young. Her constant questions of, "Can we get a dog? Can I have ice cream for breakfast? Why can't I get a drum set? " granted the couple a few more minutes of peace when they said "Go ask your dad/mom"

Francis expected her to resent him for not living with her mother. But to Ana, it was normal. Every other day, she would switch between sleeping at Nacha and Francis's apartments, calling it a "sleepover", despite who's apartment she was at. Both of their apartments were cluttered with her toys

Now that she's older, she spends a bit more time in her mom's apartment because she finds her room to be cozier and more private there. But she still switches often. A day at Nacha's, a Day at Francis's. A few hours at both. A few days at either. Sometimes, it even depends on if she wants to take a walk, or if she got into an argument with one of them.

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Living Weapon Whumpee part 16

Warnings: forced living weapon/fighter, recovery whump, reluctant alliance, rejection by peers

Only this time he was working to earn respect from his peers. An impossible feat, considering his now-allies had hundreds of reasons to hate him. The list starting with killer and ending with Weapon.

"So... what are your names?" Whumpee tried to diffuse the tension. It seemed logical, to start learning what to call each man.

"...I'm Jake," the biggest of the men said gruffly, watching Whumpee through narrowed eyes. He had dark orange hair and hazel eyes, and wore a menacing scowl on his. "I am effectively the leader of the team under Flint's command. What I say goes. Period.” his void was deadpan and cold, and he jerked his chin toward the man on his left, a guy with brown hair and eyes. “That one is Reed, my second-in-command.”

"You can learn the rest of my group's names over time. Right now, it's the time of day that we would train in the fight room." He stood up from his chair, and the others eagerly copied him, nervously glancing at the living weapon.

Whumpee followed them as they filed out of the room, a full head higher than all but Jake, who was also exceptionally tall. It made him all the more intimidating to be around.

Whumpee didn't say a word as he followed the team to the training area, finding himself in a large room full of sparring weapons, punching bags, and some other machines for exercising.

"We usually split up and pick what area we feel we need to train more on," Jake explained, "whether it be physical fitness or honing battle skills."

Whumpee watched the other soldiers migrate to different areas, and decided to try the punching bags. He lined himself up at the nearest one and took a swing -- with a little too much power. His fist went straight through it, spraying sand all over the floor when he pulled his arm out in surprise.

He sheepishly glanced at the cluster of men getting ready to lift weights, who were all staring at him, faces pale with terror. Because that could have been someone's head on the battlefield. His face heated with embarrassment. He'd forgotten how strong he was.

Maybe that means I should work on gaining more finite control of my movements, he deduced, and moved to a second punching bag, giving it a few light taps to avoid accidentally smashing it to bits.

Each time he barely touched the bag, picking up speed with short, sharp punches. It felt unnatural to be holding back. He was used to going all out, using any means to win a fight.

Over an hour of practice passed before Jake announced the end of it, and while other soldiers were visibly tired and worn-out, Whumpee had barely broken a sweat. No one talked to or acknowledged his presence as they moved on to dinner, and then finally the shared sleeping quarters with beds lined along the walls.

Whumpee stayed awake for a long time after the lights switched off, and he could tell from the breathing patterns alone that several other men were too, shifting around restlessly -- probably unwilling to let their guards down and rest, lest he slit their throats in their sleep. A reasonable fear, considering who Whumpee was.

After a lot of tossing and turning, Whumpee managed to drift off.

He awoke the next morning to find himself alone. Everyone else had already left, no one bothering to wake him. Probably too scared to even approach.

Whumpee sighed wearily, getting up and padding out after slipping some shoes on. He got lost wandering the maze of halls in the facility, but eventually he successfully located the team he was with, who were gathered in a large room full of... games? Things like darts and pool and cards and so much more! He could hardly believe what he was seeing! It must be recreational free-time for the soldiers.

There were groups of two or three playing each game together, none of which invited him to join.

Whumpee didn't mind, at least that's what he told himself. Although... playing two-or-more player games did look rather fun. He was never allowed the simple luxury of entertainment under Leader's control.

But he knew asking to join would make everyone even more on-edge, so he refrained from it, deciding to throw darts at the board by himself to pass the time. Maybe once the soldiers grew more comfortable around him they'd invite him to play cards, though he'd never played before. They'd have to teach him.

Those first few days of existence were... rough. Everyone avoided Whumpee like the plague when possible, edgy and jumpy whenever he walked into a room. Steering clear when there was space to do so.

But the men were growing bolder and more confident the longer Whumpee was around, and it was on the fourth day that Whumpee faced his first round of genuine, direct trouble.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

[craziness2345]

Chapter 4

So I suck lol I'm sorry this one took so long school and this mixed does not go well at times. I hope you like this chapter and i promise i will bring next chapter out by next week i'm going on vacation and the drive is 16 hours so i'll have time to work on this! let me know how you guys like this chapter please!

_________________________________________________________

It was weird how our dynamic changed within a week. I haven't had a single nightmare since i started staying with Natasha and wanda it still confuses me why they've been so adamant on me staying with them each night there was a few nights in the beginning of the week where i tried to sleep in my own room feeling bad for bothering them but each time they’d just go straight in my roo to lay with me instead.

I gave up after that and kinda just got used to it i liked not having the nightmares and for once in my life since i was younger i felt safe and protected it was nice having that feeling. It also caused us to get a lot closer. I felt like I was always with them. Now one of us was with the other or together all at the same time. 

But that changed when wanda and natasha had to go on a mission but the worst part about this mission was it was no contact nor was there a set day for them to come back either. It was both nerve wracking and I hated how it made me feel knowing I shouldn't be feeling this way. Sighing to myself i see Natasha and wanda head on over to me dressed in there undercover clothes “ Will you be okay? Wanda asks worriedly.

I nod “ Don’t worry i’m a big girl “ I comment reassuringly even though deep down i know i’m struggling i just show  a happy face” be careful please” I say softly worry evident on my face. Natasha smirks “ It’ll be wanda and i and captain america everything will be fine” Natasha says. I roll my eyes “ Okay “ I laugh giving them each a hug “ But seriously i want my two best friends to make sure to be safe” I say not noticing the small frown on the two red heads faces when i had said best friend. By the time I looked up they were back to smiling at me. “ So have a safe trip and be back in time” I say as they nod giving me one last hug before they head out onto the quinjet steve following not long after he gets out of the elevator as he waves at me before leaving. 

I sigh and slouch in my couch “ so you have a thing for my sestra and her girlfriend L/N Y/N “ I jump off the couch meeting yelena's eyes as mine widen “ Wait what!?” I exclaim my eyes bulging as Kate walks in giggling “ Yelena leave her alone” She says sitting on the couch.

“ What? I’m just stating a fact i mean she gets all googly eyed on them” Yelena says as my cheeks redden “ She nots wrong Y/N and you’re even acting all depressed “ kate point out softly causing me to slouch in the couch again my face beat red. I let a loud scoff pass my lips “ I am not acting depressed” I say dismissively. I decide to sit up as Kate snorts “ Okay Y/N “ She says softly. 

I hear yelena snicker “ You’re such a love sick puppy” she comments” You know Y/N L/N you should well tell them” She shrugs as i give her a dirty look “ there’s Nothing to say to them” I snap as yelena raises an eye “ тупица”  ( Dumbass) I give her a dirty look “ I gotta go “ I grumble annoyed as i stand up and leave kate and yelena teasing me as i leave.

I decide to head into the elevator and go up getting off i head straight to furys office barging in as he looks up instantly” Do no- Oh Y/N what is it” He calms instantly as i sit in the chair across from him shrugging” Nothing just wanted to hang with the old man” I tease. 

He gives me an unamused look” I’m not old” HE corrects causing me to smirk “ Oh yeah yeah that’s what old people say” I tease as he gives me another look rolling his eyes he goes back to his paperwork “ what do you actually want ? “ He asks as I go serious. “ I wanted to know if you have any leads on him” I say, sitting straighter, fur humming and pulling out a folder. 

“ Honestly nothing after he left the hospital went dark” he says. I frown at grabbing the folder looking at the medical records. I scan over all the people looking at the picture. My heart was aching at what I was seeing. I close it, the guilt hitting me. 

“ Stop, I know that face, it was an accident. “ HE tries to reassure me as I look away hiding my emotions. “ Right,” I mumble, not believing a word he says, “ Just let me know if you find anything else,” I say standing up.

Fury sighs watching me leave “ You know i will” He says gently a tone he only ever uses for me as i leave his room . The image of my brother still embedded in my skull as I walk down the hall the memories of that night and his and my fathers screams of pain I shut my eyes taking a deep breath to control that memory before heading out needing a coffee.

I head down a street once I leave the avengers tower heading to a small coffee shop. I head inside placing an order for a caramel mocha. Thanking the barista, I sat down at a booth to stare out at all the people walking down the streets. I let my mind wander worried about Natasha and Wanda. I wonder how long they will be gone for. Knowing how no communication missions  go, it could be a few days or weeks. I shudder at hating this already.

I curse myself silently hating how i feel knowing it wasn’t right when they were together as well. I sigh to myself drinking my coffee before doing a double take standing up. I head out of the coffee shop looking through the crowded streets in a hurry. I know he was somewhere. I swear I saw him cursing when I didn't see him. I rubbed my temples, deciding to head back as I thought back to the figure I saw across the street. 

He looked like Jake. I swear that's who I saw the burnt side of his face but maybe I was hallucinating? Yeah I had to be there's no way that was him. I started walking back to the tower, my thoughts jumbled up by what I thought I saw.

______________________________________________________

The two weeks go by as I start to slowly struggle to sleep feeling like someone was watching at times I swore I saw my brother but I try to put that thought at the back of my mind since I've been struggling to sleep. It made more sense. It was my exhaustion fucking with me.

We still had no word from Natasha and Wanda. I did get some words out of fury, finding out that they might be coming back soon from the mission. That did get me a bit more upbeat. I start heading back to the tower as it starts to pour down tremendously. Cursing, I toss my coffee in a nearby trash can as I decide to take a short cut and go pull my hood up over my head. 

As I walk down the alley I feel some type of sharp pain in my shoulder groaning. I move my hand pulling it out of my shoulder. I realized it was what looked to be a tranquilizer dart. Unsure what the liquid was, I started to feel woozy moving my head. I blink seeing a figure walking down with a gun that I assume had the dart in it. I try to furrow my eyes moving to use my invisibility but struggle to.

The dark figure walks closer humming his face completely covered” sorry but you’re powers ain't gonna work i gave you a nice dose that stuns you're powers” The deep distorted voice says stumbling back words i curse before stumbling to run away the figure chuckles deeply “ Who i love a good game of cat and mouse” he starts following me slowly as i pass down another alley stumbling some more i blearily pull out my phone hitting the emergency button that sends to the tower hoping they can get to me in time. 

Everything starts to blur as i end up hitting a dead end i curse to myself turning around to make another run for it i freeze seeing him standing there “ i think this is the end of the game and the line” He says “ that tranquilizer should be doing it’s job by now “ He says coming closer as i start to slide down the wall.

“ Your friends won’t be saving you either they are a little preoccupied with a bomb in downtown “ He chuckles as i completely black out the last thing i remember his him picking me up before everything goes dark.

[fairycosmos]

I’m wondering if you could speak more about the adolescent life experiences you missed out on because I am curious and also heavily relate and am seeking solace in shared experiences

from the ages of like 11-16, it was particularly difficult for me. i had very few friends and people at school would either make fun of me or straight-up act like i wasn't there a lot of the time. so eventually every single day just became a battle where i refused to go to school or participate in life much during those years. i'd have meltdown after meltdown and it was honestly exhausting. i think when my classmates were discovering the foundations of who they were and learning to acclimate to social situations and developing bonds and memories with those around them, i was either sleeping or breaking down or on my computer. basically half-mute, missing out on massive chunks of my secondary education bc i was/am so beyond mentally ill & also could not handle the alienation/ridicule. i can't stress enough how much damage i think this has done to me and my sense of self and my life as a whole, the direction of it. i usually feel like i did not even develop a personality or a selfhood at all tbh. the only reason i kind of broke out of that cycle was bc i lost a bunch of weight, dated a random dude i met online for a bit + started smoking/drinking which allowed me to cope with reality a little easier. not recommending any of that as a way out btw because none of it has actually helped the root of my issues lol and it put me in a lot of dangerous situations, which also set me back emotionally, just in a different way. i'm really sorry you can relate, i know it's hard. i know there's a lot of grief involved in living like this and constantly wondering who you could've been had things been different, constantly wondering why you had to be like this while everyone else got to be "normal." i'm working on abandoning the idea of a conventional timeline that everyone has to follow but still, it's so so painful. especially when hardly anyone around me is willing to abandon their idea of the conventional timeline, which gives it a lot of weight as a concept. it's hard to live with. i completely understand and will be here if you need to talk. x

[bingbongsupremacy]

Pen Pal

Pairing: Ellie Williams x reader

Warnings: Slight mentions of homophobia

Summary: You've been Pen Pals with Ellie since you were in 5th grade. Will you finally get to meet her in person?

*Not Proof Read* TLOU Masterlist

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3

*****

November 3, 2028 (10 yrs old)

Dear Y/N,

My name is Ellie. I'm a fifth grader in Miss James' class in Wyoming. I like Savage Starlight and cookies. My best friends' name is Riley.

Do you have a best friend? Do you like Savage Starlight?

Sincerely Ellie Williams

November 10, 2028 (10 yrs old)

Dear Ellie,

Hi! It's nice to meet you! I love Savage Starlight! My brother hates them though. He never takes me to buy them at the book store :(

My bestfriends' name is Julie! Cookies are cool! I like ice cream. I have a dog. Do you have a dog? Do you like frogs? I like the color pink. Do you like pink?

Sincerely Y/N L/N

June 20, 2030 (12 yrs old)

Dear Y/N,

How's your dog? Joel's teaching me how to play the guitar! I learned how to play a song yesterday! I'm so happy.

Riley and I are planning on going to the fair tomorrow. I wish you could come. I bet you'd love Riley! Maybe some day you could meet her.

I finished the new addition of Savage Starlight yesterday and I'm so fucking sad. Did you finish it? I won't spoil. Let me know if you did so we can talk about it!

Sincerely Ellie!

June 28, 2030 (12 years old)

Dear Ellie,

I have bad news. Pepper died.

She died last night. Mom said she got really old and died in her sleep. Pepper was a good dog. I'm going to miss her.

I'm really sad. I wish she was still her.

I haven't finished Savage Starlight yet. I'm waiting until I feel happy. Maybe in a few days.

Sincerely Y/N

August 3, 2032 (14 years old)

Y/N,

Riley's moving away. She came over and told me today. I'm really sad about it. She's been my friend ever since kindergarten.

She's moving to Boston.

I found an a cute ice cream shop yesterday and thought of you. Maybe some day you can see it. We could get ice cream there and then look at the comic book store.

I can't believe Savage Starlight is fucking ending. I've been reading it since fourth grade. I don't want it to end. How do you feel about it ending?

Love, Els

August 9, 2032 (14 years old)

Els,

I'm so sorry about Riley. That sucks. I hope you guys can still talk.

I'd love to go to the ice cream shop and comic book store with you one day. My brother went off to college today. He's studying to be a doctor. Cool right?

I don't want Savage Starlight end either. I wish it could go on forever. Fucking sucks.

I think you're my best friend.

Love, Y/N

September 12, 2032 (16 yrs old)

Y/N,

I won first place in the art show! I'm so fucking happy. Joel took me out for ice cream with Sarah yesterday. We had so much fun.

Do you think we should start using email? Or texting? Joel got me phone yesterday! I'm so excited! Here's my number if you want to text xxx-xxx-xxxx and my email: elwilliams@email.com

I've started working out at a local gym. I love it. I'm going every day. I think I might do something with space when I'm older. I really like space.

Also, I'm gay.

Love, Els

September 18, 2032 (16 yrs old)

Receiver: elwilliams@email.com

Subject: Hi

Els, this is my email! I'll send you a text right after this. I'm so happy for you! First phone yay!! Also congrats on the art show!

The gym is fun! And space is so cool! I'm not sure what I'll do yet when I'm older. I'm still deciding. I'm glad you know what you want to do though.

Also, cool! I'm glad you feel comfortable telling me! I love you, Els. <3

My brother's being a fucking asshole. He refuses to come to my birthday party because his girlfriend's parents want to have dinner the same day.

I wish you could come. Maybe some day.

Love, Y/N

May 2, 2034 (18 yrs old)

Receiver: elwilliams@email.com

Subject: So

I think I might not be straight. I'm not sure. I've only told you. I can't tell my parents. I don't know how they'd react. I know my brother would hate me. He's a fucking dick now. I don't know why he's the way he is.

My parents have started fighting a lot. Money problems I think. I think my dad might have cheated on my mom too.

I'm excited to go to college next year. I'm glad we got into the same school! We'll finally be able to meet. I've been wanting to meet you for years. Maybe I can finally get away from all the shit that's been going on lately.

I don't know why this all happened so fucking fast.

I hope you're well.

Lots of Love, Y/N

May 2, 2034 (18 yrs old)

Receiver: y/ncup@email.com

Subject: So

Hey, so I know how you're feeling. It'll take some time to figure out, but you'll get there. No matter what, I'll love you.

You're family sounds like a bunch of dicks. I'm sorry you have to go through that.

I've been talking with Joel and he said I could do this.

Do you want to come stay with me and my family over the summer? Maybe get a break from your family? We could idk finally fucking meet?

Let me know if you want to come to Wyoming. You could meet my friends. Then we could drive up to school together. It's not too far from my house. Maybe day or two away.

Also, I got a girlfriend. her name is Cat. She gave me this cool ass tattoo. I'll send a pic.

__Pic Attached__

Love, Els

My eyes scan over the email again, making sure I didn't imagine what I just read. Ellie just invited me to Wyoming for the summer! There's no fucking way I'm missing this opportunity.

I'm finally going to get to meet her!

My eyes land on the last line. I got a girlfriend.

Fuck.

[a-998h]

Revelations

I'm once again sitting at the bar with. Today is a big day for Charlie and we're making bets on how long before thinks go to shit without her. It's a nice, quiet morning in Hell. But, I notice Angel isn't around, but that question is answered as the front doors slam open. Yeessh... Angel looks sleep deprived. Niffty jumps out of a potted plant and asks Angel what happened to him.

"It's who happened to me and the Answer is everyone, twice," Angel says.

He then rants about how his dick of a boss, Valentino, had Angel work 16 hours straight on a whim. Based on what I've seen on the TV and the way Angel looks depressed after work, I want to punch his boss in the face. Angel flops down on the couch, and I go over to comfort him. Charlie and Vaggie have just come downstairs and Alastor is, ince again, nowjere to be seen. Before I can even leave the bar area. I'm, once again, taking cover under Husk as a cloud of glittery red smoke gives way to a hole in the same wall Sir Pentious blew a hole in.

"Arghh! What the fuck is with that wall?!" Angel asks in annoyance.

Husk is picking glitter out of my hair, and I hear an Australian accent?

"What up, hoes!" The Australian voice says with a laugh.

I see Angel perk up, and apparently this is someone he knows, a sinner named Cherry Bomb.

Cherry Bomb jumps through the hole she just made and makes her way over to Angel. She talks about how her and Angel should "tear shit up like old times." I stare at this 80s Australian cyclops, not surprised that Angel and her are friends. Charlie walks over, and Cherry throws a lot bomb to her, a bomb which Vaggie then throws out the hole and into the distance. The bomb explodes and another cloud of red glitter smoke comes in through the hole. I want to get closer, but Husk holds me back.

"Not a chance, kid," he says, using a dad tone.

Angel tells hsi friend that he's too tried, to which she starts saying he needs a recharge, a reinvigoration, and something else before Charlie cuts in.

"A responsible night on the town! That is a great idea!" Charlie buts in.

She introduces herself and shares her confusion at why Angel never brings anyone here.

"Anyway, Angel and everyone els have been working so hard. I think they deserve a little fun," Charlie explains.

"W-wait, they?" Cherry asks.

Charlie gets everyone's attention and tells us that Cherry will be taking us all out "for a night of fun and relaxation!" Cherry starts to turn down the offer, but is swayed when Charlie hands her a large stack of cash.

"Umm... what about me?" I ask.

"What about 'cha?" Cherry asks.

"I'm underage, so I don't think you'll be able to take me with you. Plus, with you all out, I'll be left alone in the hotel until Alastor comes back from... whatever it is he does all day," I tell her.

Vaggie takes pause, realizing the situation. Cherry laughs and says I could just lie about my age. Husk gives me a look and Vaggie looks a bit fidgety.

"Maybe we can bring you to Heaven with us," Charlie suggests.

I don't think that'll work, but I'm willing to give it a shoot. When the portal to Heaven opens Charlie throws Vaggie before entering herself. Taking a deep breathe, I walk through the portal and... it worked?

Looking around all I see are clouds and the sky. Following behind Vaggie and Charlie I see a golden gate. Holy shit, this really is Heaven... Eveyyrtime one of us talks, it echoes. Vaggie does not seem happy to be here.

"Hey, are you ok, Vaggie?" I ask.

"Oh, yeah, im fine, mariposa," she tells me as she ruffles my hair.

I can tell she's trying to hide her true feelings, but I know pushing Vaggie too much isn't a good thing. When we reach the gates, a blonde angel man greets us. So, I guess most angels are wheels of eeys and nightmares.

"Can I get your name, please?" Angel dude asks.

Charlie tells the guy her name, and there is a lot of mumbling as he says he can't find her name in his book of names. When Charlie mentions her dad, angel dude flies down from his podium and asks if Charlie is lost. He then looks at me, and gets a strange look on his face.

"Oh, and what is your name little one," he asks.

"Umm... my name is Reader," I says.

His eyes go wide, and he just stares. I'm about to ask him what's wrong when I hear a familiar voice.... the voice from that dream a few months back.

"Saint Peter, we can take it from here," the voice says.

Looking up, I see two other angels, both women. One is tall with a crown and the other is short with a puffy sleeved dress. When they land in front of us, I hide behind Charlie.

"Greetings, daughter of the Morningstar. I am Sera, the high Seraphim of Heaven," the taller woman says.

I see her look at me, her smile seemingly warm and maternal... it makes me feel a lot safer compared to the smile of Alastor. The shorter woman squeals and rushes over to Charlie.

"Hi, I'm Emily, the other Seraphim. Though you can call me Em! Emmy, E, whatever you want. I go by whatever," she says.

She also turns to look at me, her cheerful smile seeming to grow larger. I notice Saint Peter whispering something to Sera, who's expression shows a hint of something. I now get a feeling of gnawing dread in my stomach. When the gates open, the city inside is so different from Pentagram City. As we get shown around.

"After you see our realm, you'll never want to go back down," Emily sings.

Emily is holding my hands before Sera says that she's sorry we can't stay too long.

The song ends, and I'm just shocked that there is someone who can match Charlie's song filled energy.

Narrator's POV

As Emily shows Charlie, Vaggie, and Reader around, the group passes by Adam and Lute.

"What is she doing here? How did she even get up here?" Lute asks rhetorically.

Adam gears up to attack the three residents of Hell, but Lute holds him back. Lute reminds Adam that attacking them in public is a stupid idea, Adam says that he cant just wait until the extermination. Lute drags him down by his collar, shushing him and reminding him that the one rule the Seraphim gave them.

"Uuuuuugh, 'no one but the exorcists can know about exterminations'. I know fine," Adam whines.

Adam tells Lute not to shush him, when a voice all too familiar to the pair is hear behind them. Lute asks what "the hell-spawn doing here" and Sera says that their inability to control the demonic unrest has lead to Lucifer's involvement and how he set up an audience for Charlie. Sera expresses her frustration, admitting that the safety of Heaven was the only reason she allowed the extermination in the first place.

"And, the short one with them. That is the child of the Virtue Bellatrix, the child you were tasked with finding," Sera says.

"What do you want from me? I'm just one guy," Adam argues.

"I want you to do whatever you need to do to keep this problem from getting any worse and returning the child to their rightful place in Heaven. Are we clear?" Sera asks, her voice filled with stern command.

"Yeah, got it," Adam tells her.

Reader's POV

"OK, I love Heaven!" Charlie exclaims.

Vaggie looks a bit tired. I'm laying on the bed because me feet hurt from walking for so long. I've tired flying, but I'm still not ever good at getting off the ground. Last time I tired, there was a pile of pillows and Angel pushed me off the fucking stair railing on Husk's orders! Vaggie freaked out when that happened.

Charlie flops down next to me, expressing her joy at rainbow sprinkles and ice cream. Vaggie sounds tired, so I pat the spot on my left for her to rest. She says she's fine.

"Emily's going to take me and Reader to a zoo where all the animals are actually soft!" Charlie squeals.

Charlie asks if Vaggie is coming with us, and she says that she needs a break but that one of us should hug a koala for her. Charlie gets extra excited about seeing a real koala before rushing out the door. I chase after her, once I get my shoes back on.

Narrator's POV

Once Reader and Charlie are gone, Vaggie flops down onto the hotel bed. She's beginning to decompress when she hears a knock on the door. Annoyed and tired, she opens the door and is greeted by a loathsome sight.

"Hey there Vag-asaurus!" Adam yells.

Vaggie tells him to go away, but Adam says he isn't here for Charlie. Vaggie asks why, and Adam starts saying that Vaggie "left the band" and "tried for a solo career, or I guess it's more of a.. Duet". Vaggie tells him she has no idea what he's talking about.

"Do you really think I wouldn't recognize one of my top girls just cause you're out of uniform?" Adam asks.

Vaggie goes pale and her eyes widen. She remembers her days as an exorcist, calling her by her old name "Vagg-ie". She reminds him, it's pronounced "Vag-gie." Adam says he doesn't care, and reminds Vaggie of how she lost her wings and eye for letting a child demon escape. Adam "congratulates" Vaggie on getting together with Charlie, to which Lute calls their love "vile and blasphemous". Adam says he wonders how Charlie would feel if she learned about Vaggie being an angel, and an exorcist at that. Vaggie asks what he wants.

"Simple. You work for me again and at the hearing, you're going to help me shut this kindergarten bullshit down for good and make sure that shortstack kid never returns to Hell," he says.

Vaggie says she won't betray Charlie or Reader. Adam say then he'll just tell Charlie that "she's been fucking someone who's killed thousands of her people." Adam backs away, joking that Vaggie's and Charlie's relationship will be fine, ending with a "see you court!" Leaving Vaggie frozen in shock.

Reader's POV

My heart is racing. I look at one of the walls and I see the balcony seats of angelic officials, all organized by ranks. I can clearly see Emily and Sera sitting in the top seats, with Emily waving at me. I'm sitting between Charlie and Vaggie. Charlie has a confident look on her face while Vaggie seems like she'll panic. I give Vaggie a look, and I get the same response I've been getting all day. Soon, a tall angel with horns, golden wings, and a floor touching robe walks by. Charlie seems to recognize him, and she groans.

"Oh no, not himagain!" She groans.

"Who is that?" I ask.

"That is Adam, the rude guy I told you about," she says.

This Adam guy gives me a look, like a shitty older brother gives. He flies up to his seat next to a white haired woman dressed in armor with black and white wings. Adam calls Charlie a Karen for going "to my manager".

"We are gathered here today to determine whether or not a soul in Hell, can be redeemed by means of this Hazbin Hotel," Sera says, starting the trial.

An angel points at me, asking if I was a redeemed soul, I couldn't lie and say yes because that would ruin Charlie's credibility, so I tell the court that I'm not redeemed, I just looked like this when I died. The trial starts of with Charlie trying to give a dictionary reference, which Adam objects to. Charlie flips through her note cards and I see it's all dictionary references.

"If you have actual evidence then show it already," Adam demands.

When Charlie says it's Angel, Adam jokes that "he's totally worst being redeemed." Wow, this guy really is a dick. Fed up with hsi nonsense, Charlie stands up and glares at him.

"Well, if you know so much. What do you think it takes to get into Heaven?" Charlie asks.

Adam looks around nervous... This fucker has no damn idea what it takes?! I see him clearly pull a paper and quil out of his jacket, trying to cover up the fact that he's making up rules as he goes along! The golden paper twleports over to Vaggie, who reads it out loud to the court.

" 'Act selfless, don't steal, stick it to the man', are you fucking serious?" Vaggie asks.

Adam says those rules got him here, problem because there was no one to steal from and acting selfishly would've brought the wrath of God on him. When Charlie argues that Angel is doing everything on this bullshit lost, Adam snaps his fingers and an orb of light forms, showing everyone but Alastor at a... sex club. Yeah, this trial is the less of two werid situations. They're all having fun. I can see Sir Pentious trying to flirt with Cherry, and failing. Angel is struggling, and Husk is pushing him towards good choices. I... I wish I could be there for my friends, but the thought of being in a sex club is just... ew.

Adam argues that the "night of debauchery" Angel was having means he isn't worth of Heaven. Charlie argues back, and Vaggie runs off. I... I should've just stayed home at the hotel. It keeps showing everyone getting drunk, not helping Charlie's case at all. But, we also see Angel trying to keep Niffty out of trouble. It's sweet, then Angel says something that makes her cry. Angel puts Niffty on Husk's head and tells Husk to just go along with it. We also see Sir Pentious using liquid courage to try and... have sex with Cherry. OK, I'm rooting for him now. He then fumbles and I... I just want to give him a hug and sympathy back pat at this point.

We keep watching, and I really want to give hugs later. The orb cuts to Valentino and I want to drag him here and let the angels or God have at him. We then see Angel trying to get Niffty so they can go home, away from Valentino. We then see Valentino being a creep, and I'm rooting for Niffty to bite him. Angel tells Valentino to fuck off... and I get scared for Angel. But, we watch ad Angel stands up for himself, and I'm so proud... but then Valentino slaps him hard enough to make him bleed. Angel gets up, and walks off with Husk giving him a pat of back, then we see Niffty rip a piece of fluff of Valentino's body, which I'm happy about.

Charlie argues that Angel has meant all of Adam's requirements, then Adam argues that if it were true than Angel would be here right now... but he's not. Looking towards the angels, they all look unsure... none of them know what it takes to get a person into Heaven!

*One Song Later*

Angel... Vaggie is an angel, and I'm half angel. I feel tears prick at the corners of my eyes. That... that's why my mom was never around, the woman my dad loved and the woman who I was angry at... doesn't even exist. My vision is blurry. My face feels wet and my nose is running. I... I wasted my life being angry, at nothing. I feel someone hold me, it's Charlie. Vaggie runs over to us, and Adam looms over us as Sera says the court doesn't find any evidence that souls in Hell can be redeemed. I start crying, Adam gets closer and tries to grab me but I slap his hand away.

"DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!" I yell.

Adam snaps his fingers, opening a portal back to Hell as the angel beside him goes to grab me but the portal sucks me, Charlie, and Vaggie back in before she can grab me.

Narrator's POV

"Charlie! Don't give up on this! I'll figure something out, I promise!" Emily yells as the portal closes.

Sera sounds Adam, saying his actions were uncalled for, and due to those actions Reader, the half human child of the Virtue Bellatrix, has gone back to Hell once again. Adam tries to justify his actions before flying away, along with the other angels in the courtroom. Now, the silent court room only contains Sera and Emily. Emily yells at Sera, upset at the killing of human souls, demon or not. Sera argues back, saying that the souls in Hell were uprising and it's her job as the Head Seraphim to protect the citizens of Heaven at all costs and that Emily's job is to bring those same people joy.

"And the child, if you claimed they came from an angel, why are they in?" Emily asks.

Sera looks away, saying that it was a mistake, that Reader's actions in life meant that the human soul was going to Hell, but due them being half angel, and an angel who did nothing to deserve being cast into Hell, they would be taken to Heaven. The two Seraphim sisters argue with emotions running high on both sides. The argument ends with Sera saying she couldn't bear to see Emily end up like Lucifer: Fallen. Sera leaves the courtroom, and now Emily is alone.

Emily thinks back to how happy Reader is with Charlie and Vaggie, but Hell isn't safe. Confused, Emily looks towards the paper Adam wrote and doddled on.

"I promise... I'll find a what to make this work," she whispers, before leaving the courtroom herself.

[27dragons]

Quiz Meme thing for people over 50 - via @gilajames

1. Name one body part that doesn't hurt: my elbow (who gets that reference? but really mine doesn't hurt. at least not today.)

2. Were you able to answer #1 because you have taken ibuprofen recently? Nope, I haven't been able to take ibuprofen at all for a few years now because I'm prone to ulcers. (I also haven't taken any tylenol/paracetamol, because it straight up doesn't work for me for pain relief. It lowers fevers, but that's it.)

3. Name one activity you are greatly relieved you don't do anymore because fuck that shit: change diapers and otherwise deal with any (literal) shit that isn't my own

4. Have you gotten at least eight hours of sleep in the past five days. (Not each night, just total.) Oh yeah, I average about 6.5 hours a night and on the weekends sometimes it stretches to seven!

5. Name one song that is NOT forty years old, what the fuck. The 1980s were, like, twenty years ago. Fuck you, the 80s were like, five years ago at most lol. That said: The Hamilton soundtrack, and also "Panic" by David Ford. Those are only like 10-15 years old.

6. Do you remember the last time you got carded (not counting 'we have to card everyone' places.) If we're not counting "card everyone" places, then I have never been carded. When I bought booze legally for the first time on my 21st birthday, they did not card me. Apparently I radiate an aura of "yeah she's old enough."

7. Name one musician that you keep hearing their name but have no clue what their music is. My Chemical Romance, I guess (I have a general idea what the music is but I don't know that I've actually heard it. I could be wrong about that I suppose but I definitely didn't know it.) I'm not really a music person, this is a lot of music questions for me.

8. Have the celebrities you loved as a kid started dying of old age? A few but not too many yet.

9. Have the celebrities you loved as a teenager started dying of old age? Same.

10. When did you start listening to the Oldies station? Another music question? I mean, I listened to the oldies station when I was in frickin college because I don't care about music and that was the station my boyfriend at the time liked. I really only listen to music in the car, and after I dumped that guy I switched to listening almost exclusively to tapes, CDs, and music downloaded to an iPod/phone.

11. Have you told a younger co-worker any form of the phrase "wait until you're my age/older/hit your 40s, then you'll..." Not really, though I've done the "wait until you have kids who are [age] thing to younger co-workers, and commiserated with co-workers of similar age about all the shit that hit us after 40.

12. Do you seek out older co-workers so you can quote something at them that they will get? Nope, because I am a work-from-home introvert. :D

13. Would you rather just stay home? At least 85% of the time, YES.

14. Have you reached the point that for birthdays, other gift-getting events, you say "I just don't need more stuff"? No, because I love getting gifts. When I was young, my mom told me she didn't care what was under the Christmas tree for her, she just loved opening presents. Seriously, one year when I was like 14 I got her a 6-pack of socks and wrapped each pair individually and she LOVED it. I thought she was crazy then, but I get it now. Anyway the only people who get me actual gifts these days are the Things and I'm not going to discourage them because they're so fun.

15. Do you often find yourself saying "I remember when" and you describe something so completely foreign to Life Today that you wonder if you made it up? All the FUCKIGN TIME

16. Did you look at this list at the beginning and hope it was a short quiz because you don't have time for those 50 item lists? Lol no because this counts as social interaction for me these days.

My fellow "old" tumblrs, join in the fun! (Or don't, I'm not the boss of you.)

[blitzsicedcoffee]

I've been thinking a lot recently about my disability, the unknown autoimmune disease, and like what could have caused it.

And of course, it could have been spurred by Covid, or stress, or so many other things. But I am of the mind that it could have been caused by my obvious burnout from the above. From covid, stress, and college.

I took about eight years to finish my bachelor's degree. For many reasons. Financial, Needed a full time job and couldn't do both, couldn't figure out a solid major, etc. And once I restarted college at the university during Covid, since I had lost my job at Starbucks at the time, I wanted to go quick. I wanted it to be over with. I wanted to finally FINISH.

So I did full time school for a year, committed to a major and minor. And then my unemployment payments dried up after a year. So I had to do full time school AND a part time job. The job I chose wasn't that bad. I worked part time at a sex toy shop. Sure the company itself left little to be desired (playboy industries). But it was a cool job cause I got to "test out" the toys, (usually meaning like, on my hand, duh), and explain to customers how they could be used. And I felt like I was also actually using my degree during this. (Sexuality and Gender studies).

Then, my senior year I ALSO took on an internship at the Queer Resource Center on my University Campus. And that was an extra 16 hours a week. So effectively, I was juggling THREE JOBS. That, my part time job, and my senior coursework to culminate into a final research project.

You could say I was already within the throws of burnout, cause I was. But I was "keeping up with it". I was getting adequate sleep, I was still on socials, participating in hobbies, doing chores. I *thought* I was *fine*.

The biggest mistake I made, was when I graduated. I started applying to jobs AS SOON as I graduated. I felt this pressure to get more money, to live up to my degree, to contribute more to my household. Even though I was already paying my portion of rent and bills just fine with the part time job. And no one was asking me to do this. Not my parents, not my partner. Just myself.

After a few months, I did land a job. A state job. Applying my degree. It was exactly what I wanted. I quit my part time job. I Committed fully to the full time job (which was three months of mind numbing computer trainings first), and I was good at it.

Then six months in, I crashed.

I started having nightmares, waking up in cold sweats. I started having horrible joint pain. I couldn't think straight during the day and had horrible brain fog. And it only escalated from there. And being neurodivergent too, I was struggling to understand aspects of the in person office, and neurotypical people's attitudes and reactions. That didn't help.

Which brings us here. I'm on leave from the full time job on paid leave until the paid leave ends. And I don't know if I can even go back. From my constantly worsening disease, etc.

I don't really have advice to give, this was mostly a rant for myself. But I guess...if I had to give advice it would be SLOW DOWN.

Please for the love of the gods slow down. The grind mindset is fucking poison. You will hurt yourself. And if you think you won't, you're lying to yourself.

Another thing to add: Yes I acknowledge theres a lot of privilege steeped in this experience. This is just my experience and what I take from it in context of soul crushing capitalism.

[scarlettrose567]

MyHouse.Wad: What a fucking trip

Just finished MyHouse.wad. And goddamn, just goddamn. First of all, it is a fucking fantastic game let alone considering it's a free mod, easily on par with the original doom in terms of quality.

My overall impression is that this is a type of game that could ONLY come out as a mod. I mean, can you imagine say the next Call of Duty game where you can beat the whole thing as normal, but if you dig deeper it has a whole separate game exploring an endless house?

That all being said, two main gripes

The final fight was waaay too large/long, and if it was half the size it would be twice as impactful imo.

Ending is somewhat underwhelming, although that's somewhat inevitable since it's not going to straight up tell you what happens.

Oh yeah and 3) The labyrinth.

I love the idea of the labyrinth, however wish it was developed slightly more. I don't want there to be any enemies, but maybe a scrap of story or flavor would've been warmly welcomed. As is it's completely optional and you can't do anything apart from leave. However, it is indeed very unnerving (loved the touch of having the doors you open while inside being louder than average when they close by themselves).

Oh yeah, plus the blood appearing in the airport's bathroom did feel a bit janky/random and somewhat frustrating to trigger.

But in general it's all in the spirit of what it is trying to accomplish, and it absolutely excels in making you feel on edge, like the House is trying to get you to leave while drawing you in further and further.

But, you may be asking, what about the central mystery? What the heck is MyHouse.wad about anyway??

So, I won't rehash the exact wording (you can find that online easily enough), but to put it simply the creator of the mod is allegedly brushing up an old .wad file found in the floppy disc of a deceased childhood friend, and a journal as a word document plus some photos are attached to the mod when you download it.

Reading over the journal, a few odd section stuck out to me. He mentions that an old childhood friend passed away, and yet the very next day he writes "I never imagined that I would be saying goodbye to my friend so soon." Not something you would say about someone you only knew when you were a child, and hadn't been in contact with for years.

He starts working to restore and add things to the .wad he found. Over time, he becomes increasingly obsessed with it and it starts to affect his dreams.

He dreams about a house burning down, and finding a still born baby in the attic, of being hunted and finding refuge in a cave...

Something *very* strange happens on Dec 16. He seems to revert to a childhood persona, writing "it'll be nice to have some time away from the school", despite mentioning his job earlier, and "i'm sure they'll be a lot of fun and there wilL be plenty of laughter and good times". The day after he makes a comment about lack of sleep.

He dreams more. He dreams his reflection winks back at him, that he enters his bathroom mirror and finds comfort in that strange world.

He dreams he is in a car crash, then a plane crash. He survives the car crash. He does not survive the plane crash.

Valentines day: "Happy Valentines day to the only person I ever loved. For a short time, you brought a little happiness to this painful existence called life. I hope we can be together again one day. In the meantime… I’ll keep looking for that other someone who can be the ray of light in my life that you turned out to be."

He mentions how "After 13 years" he finally has the skills to finish the map, despite him mentioning he worked on it first 20 years ago with his childhood friend, according to the original description for the .wad.

He writes how the map is altering code by itself, growing when he's not looking;

"Without my guiding hand, the map doesn’t know what to build. But I can help it. Guide it. It seems to respond to my designs, changing them to match my emotional state. It knows what I’m feeling. It knows how Thomas felt."

He dreams of lying on a beach, safe and content, only to realize it is all fake. He writes about the agony of a heaven, and eternally being tormented by your own anguish, and how lucky his winking self is, to live a mortal life on a real beach, finding happiness in the small things he can control.

He finally publishes the mod, with no further entries apart from how he managed to publish a "safe" version. He won't allow the House to corrupt anyone else.

So, what to make of it all.

First and obviously, he clearly knew his childhood friend a lot more recently than his childhood, and the Valentine's Day strongly supports the fact they were partners - however, I do think they weren't in contact for at least a few years before his friend died. The "13 years ago" comment, plus the fact that items in the mod state "It was not to be" when picked up suggest that they were together for a time after, but then broke up. Both the crash and plane crash suggest something went wrong - maybe they fought, maybe there was an actual physical action - who knows. The airport section of the map further suggests that perhaps one or both of them traveled away from where they grew up? Moreover, the creator's comments about a "mirror version, happy on that other beach" suggests that maybe he made a mistake, and he's tormented knowing in another universe he could have been happy with his partner.

During the Brutalist area of the mod, you find two dogs - one completely harmless, the other a two headed monster that can kill you relatively easily if you aren't careful. But if you kill one, the other dies as well. Similarly, they can never meet each other. That could be a metaphor for their relationship - they couldn't be together, but couldn't bear being apart either.

However, there is of course a far darker possibility. A few items in the mod tell you "I want pop", and "The boy deserves a milkshake." This suggests a father-son relationship of some kind. Indeed, the very first area outside the house itself is a nursery for very young children, suggesting at some point he and his childhood friend adopted a child at some point. However, the fact that the house can burn down at some point, plus the constant dreams of disaster and the stillborn child could point to the fact that the child died somehow, possibly in a violent manner. If this is true, this would explain why they broke up, and why the original creator buried the memory - it was simply too traumatic to think about, until the death of his former partner forced these memories up to the surface, leading to him creating this mod as a coping mechanism. His comments about dealing with his own thoughts for eternity also suggest this - he could not bear to think about what had happened over and over and over again without being able to change anything.

The constant use of mirrors within the mod also tells us how much he wishes things had turned out differently - how he wants to live in a different dimension altogether, where this didn't happen, where he remained with his partner. The fact that if you leave the house without grabbing all the items might suggest they also sold (and potentially demolished) the house itself.

The house that can never leave his mind.

[baileys-3]

CHAPTER 16 IS ONLINE on AO3

First things first: Thanks again to Cookies93 for beta reading. Who put in another late shift yesterday so that you can get your new chapter this morning.

Then maybe a few words about the current status. Chapter 25 is almost finished. But it was almost midnight yesterday and fatigue overwhelmed me. That's why I didn't manage to finish it. I'm currently at 130,000 words. And still in episode 5x11. There's a lot to write about there too.

By the way, I had to laugh a little. I had just finished writing the scene when Lucy asks Tim for tips for the Citizens' Academy. The scene where “Nothing” comes. When Tim is asked from Nolan what he did the night before. And if you look at Lucy while Tim is talking about the academy...well, she's gone and doesn't hear anything about what Tim actually says. And I just worked that into my chapter... shortly afterwards there is a post on Tumbl with exactly the same scene and the same comment. Sometimes it's nice when others see it that way too.

Sneak Peak:

Lucy wakes up the next day with cramps and immediately aware of the reason of said cramps. It’s her period. She always has these cramps on the first day. So, her the first she thinks is "Shit."

The second thought is "How did I ended up in bed?" And the third: "Where's Tim?"

One issue at the time Lucy! She jumps up from the bed and rushes into the bathroom, or rather straight into the shower. As the warm water runs over her body, she tries to work out exactly what happened yesterday. Did she fall asleep? She remembers that they were watching some documentary on the tv. She was in Tim's arms and then? Then nothing … She doesn't remember anything at all! Only that she got insanely tired at some point. Oh boy. Apparently, she fell asleep on a date with Tim. AGAIN! How incredibly embarrassing. She just can’t help it, she always feels so safe in his arms and somehow her heart must be saying "Just sleep Lucy. You are safe." It has never really happened to her before. She never fell asleep on the couch in her boyfriend’s arm.

But actually, it makes sense, because she's usually super tired the days prior to her period. And the last few days of dating, going to the bar and the overnight stakeout have probably taken more out of her than she thought. She was clearly behind on her sleep.

But that doesn't explain how she got to bed. She had just finished taking a shower and is in the process of drying off when she hears the front door open. It takes her about three seconds to finish drying before she starts to panic. SHIT! When Tamara sees the state of the couch and the two teacups, she will instantly know that someone had been over, and she will need to come up with a cover story.

Lucy quickly wraps her towel around her body and hurries out of the bathroom. As she enters the room, several things register in her mind all at once. Tamara is standing facing away from her, opening the fridge. The cups have been cleared away and the blanket is neatly folded over the back of the couch, while all the cushions are back in place. Oh, thank God for Tim and his tidiness.

Tamara turns around to sound of Lucy storming out of the bathroom, crossing her arms and lifting her eyes up and down in response at the sight of her.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes. How was the party?"

"Very good, I'd say."

Then Tamara points at her with one hand and waves it. "What are you doing?"

"Showering."

"I can see that. But what are you doing here?"

"Ehm. Tea... I uhh… I wanted to put some the kettle on."

Lucy goes to the kettle, picks it up and fills it with water, then switches it on. In the meantime, Tamara has turned back to the fridge and taken out a bottle of juice. Then she glances at Lucy again.

"And you just came up with that spontaneously in the shower, did you?"

[shannendoherty-fans]

1993 - Shannen Doherty portrayed by Michael Comte for the November 1993 issue of Vanity Fair.

Brat on a Hot Tin Roof (Part 2)

Seeing the error of her ways, she moved home and landed the part of Brenda Walsh, the archetypal high-schooler at the center of Beverly Hills, 90210. The show wasn’t a sensation until its second season, and Shannen kept a fairly low social profile. Although it’s been denied, she allegedly had a brief affair with co-star Jason Priestley, who plays her twin brother, Brandon. Then she met Chris Foufas, the only ex-fiancé she still loves.

“She was going out with my best friend,’’ recalls Foufas, who lives in Chicago, where he owns and runs an upscale health club. When Shannen and her boyfriend started fighting, Foufas took her to dinner and they stayed together for a year and a half, a longevity record for Shannen. Foufas comes from a wealthy family ("I had a Porsche when I was 16,” he reports). His father is in the real-estate and casino businesses, and his family has houses in New York, Chicago, and Aspen. ‘‘Shannen wants to be with rich people,’’ says an ex-confidant. ‘She wants that life. Chris was part of that and she loved it.”

By all accounts, they were a good match. "She knew what I was thinking,”’ he says, ‘‘and I could calm her down when she’d get upset. I'd say, ‘Hold your breath. Count to three,' and that seemed to work. But then the show happened and she was one of the 10 sexiest girls in the world. All of a sudden, a big wave hit.”’

Foufas was smitten. One night, before they got into bed, he dropped to one knee and proposed. ‘‘She was sulking because I hadn’t asked her the night before,” he recalls. “‘So I put the ring box on the pillow next to her. She started freaking out when she saw the diamond, saying, ‘This is a big sucker.' ”’

Foufas began commuting between Chicago and Beverly Hills, where they rented a house together. 90210 was becoming huge, and Shannen was growing increasingly restless. Foufas started hearing stories: she was out all night at clubs like Roxbury; she was hanging out with a singer named Scott. When he confronted her, she was defensive. " 'I was considered ugly as a little kid,' ” Foufas remembers her saying. ‘‘ ‘And now I'm considered beautiful.’ She didn’t want to be engaged. She wanted to be out till four A.M. and see all the guys. But she didn’t want to lose me, either.”’

It all unraveled in June of 1992. Foufas was in Chicago and Shannen told him she wanted to throw a party for Scott and his band. He said, O.K., something small, like 10 people. But the next day, according to Foufas, the actress Lara Flynn Boyle called his younger brother and told him that she’d been at a huge bash at Shannen’s and that she was waltzing about with a guy, this singer, introducing him as her new boyfriend.

Foufas got on the next flight to L.A. He went straight to their house, which was trashed. Shannen wasn’t there. "When she came back, we sat down and had a conversation,” Foufas says. ‘‘All of a sudden, she charged at me and went to hit me. I pushed her away and she flew. She said, ‘You hit me! You hit me!' She called the police, but when they came, she said, ‘Forget it.’

“There was a change in her,”” Foufas says. ‘‘It was Shannen in charge now. She had fame. She had money. People kowtowed to her. And she liked it. A lot.”

That night, Foufas stayed at the Beverly Hills Hotel (‘I'm on a first-name basis there’’), but couldn’t sleep. There was an earthquake, and he became concerned about Shannen and their four dogs. He called the house, but there was no answer. He drove over, but she wasn’t home.

He didn’t reach her until the next day. ‘“‘She said she was at a girlfriend’s,”’ says Foufas, still sounding sad. ‘‘But she was at Scott’s. She was lying to me. And I was believing it because I loved the girl. There was lots of crying. I said I didn’t want to be with her unless it was going to be me and only me. She said she wanted that, too. And I believed her.”’

That night when she didn’t call, Foufas drove to the house, found the engagement ring, and took it back. ‘‘I was devastated,” he says. ‘‘I couldn’t sleep. I fell apart.”

Shannen didn’t go away quietly; she was furious. She called and called Foufas in Chicago, and in October 1992 she became particularly frantic. She had decided to get breast implants. ‘‘She was scared out of her guts,”’ Foufas recalls. "I tried to talk her out of it. I told her she had nice boobs. I said, ‘You just want to go to bars and say, 'Guys, look what I got!' ”

But he flew to L.A. anyway. He stayed for the operation and thought about getting back together with her, but realized Scott was still in the picture. ‘‘Look,’” he says, "I loved the girl. I can’t explain it exactly. She’s a great girl. She just has this side to her. She can do whatever she wants, fuck everyone else. She doesn’t really care.”’

He pauses. ‘‘She has all my stuff,” he says finally. ‘‘My big-screen TV. My glass refrigerator. My pinball machine. My bed. If you talk to her, tell her I want my stuff back. O.K.?”’

Is a sunny Saturday and Shannen is giving a tour of her new house. She is wearing loose navy palazzo pants, a sleeveless white linen shirt that keeps coming unbuttoned, and her omnipresent motorcycle boots. Her hair is pinned up in a loose bun. The look is half geisha, half biker. “Welcome to my home,’’ she says, standing in her gravel driveway.

She’s been unpacking—she moved in two days ago with her two dogs, a golden retriever named Sally and a black Lab named Penelope. “Yesterday, I just wanted to light it all on fire,’’ she says, clomping into the living room. "Or just throw everything out and start over. It’s the most hellish thing to move.”’

For hating it so much, she’s remarkably nomadic. In the last four years, she’s moved at least eight times. ‘‘I get very antsy,’’ she explains. ‘‘I don’t like to be in one place for too long. But I settle in each time. I do like a house to be a home.”

Her taste runs toward the Gothic: her large living room is filled with overstuffed velvet chairs and sofas. Enormous Art Nouveau posters are leaning against the walls, waiting to be hung. The glass coffee table is covered with flowers which Shannen ordered from the Four Seasons’ florist. She spent last night on the sofa because the mattress for her bed hasn’t arrived. ‘‘It’s a custom European square,’ she explains. ‘“You have to order it.”’

This furniture is expensive—the girl knows her antiques. ‘“What do you think of these?’’ she asks. ‘‘They’re neoclassic French,’ she continues, rubbing the frame of a chair. ‘‘I got them for nothing.”

She walks to the kitchen and opens the refrigerator. The contents are: a bottle of Evian, a carton of milk, one Heineken beer, and a bottle of Cristal champagne. “I"d offer you some food,” she says, “but I don’t think I have any.’’ There is kitchen stuff everywhere waiting to be unpacked and, for some reason, Madonna’s book, Sex, still in its Mylar wrapper, perched on the counter. ‘‘I never even read it,” Shannen says, looking overwhelmed by the mess. ‘‘I hate moving.”’

She goes over to the couch and stares through the sliding glass window at her pool. “‘I am happy in this house,”’ she decides, sitting down. ‘““And I'm very much now into making myself happy, before I can make everybody else happy.’’

This is the new Shannen, the post-Dean, stay-at-home, centered Shannen. In other words, Shannen circa Judd Nelson. “‘Judd’s the most intelligent man you could ever encounter,’ she says. “There’s so much to learn from him." (However, Shannen didn’t last long with Judd—in late September, she married 19-year-old Ashley Hamilton, son of the perpetually tan George. The happy couple had known each other only three weeks.)

And yet, and yet… Dean Factor is still on her mind. ‘‘He’s a menace to women,’’ she states emphatically. ‘‘He breaks down everything that women have worked hard for. To be treated as equals. When a man hits you, you're not an equal. Obviously.” Shannen is excited now. ‘“You know, this goes back to this whole thing of trying to put the blame on me. Why did he hit me? He hit me because I drove him to that point. I infuriated him. I made him angry. Well, why did I make him angry? Because he would try and push my buttons and I wouldn’t necessarily have the reaction he thought I would have.”’

The Dean-Shannen cataclysm is an extreme case of he said/she said. Clearly, their relationship was volatile from the jump. ‘‘She would insult him in public," says one Factor friend. ‘‘She was rude and hostile. I remember him once throwing her in the pool and saying, ‘You need to cool off.' ” “‘I believe Dean,” says Chris Foufas. ‘‘She probably did it. He probably deserved it.”’

They met, through friends, in 1990. Factor is related to the Max Factor family, the cosmetic-company millionaires, and he is a fixture in L.A. hot spots. Dean and his brother Davis, a photographer, own and run SmashBox, the most successful photo studio in Los Angeles. Dean and Shannen went out briefly. She felt he was leading her on. ‘‘Then he broke up with me,”’ she recalls. “That should have tipped me off to the type of person he was, but it didn’t.”

They met up again, and, as often happens with Shannen, it became very serious very quickly. She claims the mental abuse began soon afterward. ‘‘I was incredibly insecure,’’ she says. ‘‘He made me believe I was unattractive, that nobody else would be with me. And I believed all the bad things about myself he accused me of being. I was extremely lost. I'd never been in something this abusive.”’ (Factor suggests nothing anyone said could have made Shannen more insecure than she already was.)

And then there were the physical battles. The incident Shannen refers to most involves a time when she and Dean were driving in her Mercedes. He felt she was driving too fast and punched her. ‘‘Was I driving too fast?”’ she asks now. "No. Do I always drive a little fast? Yes. It’s probably why I've had my license suspended a few times. Does he know that? Yes. But do you punch somebody, not in the arm, but do you punch them full on, as hard as you possibly can, in the breast, to make them stop the car? No. And when they get out of the car, do you slap them in the face? No, you don’t do that. But that is what he did to me.”’

The final blow came in Hawaii. ‘‘Do you go to Hawaii with your girlfriend, tell her she’s no better than any of your ex-girlfriends, and then, when she tries to leave, slap her in the face, throw her down on the ground so she has a huge cut on her eye, and then take her by the hair and drag her across the rug so she has a huge bruise on her knee? I have a scar on my knee that will never go away.” She lifts up her pant leg to show her knee. “See?” she says, pointing to a faint mark. "That will never go away.”

The day before the alleged incident in Hawaii, Shannen had accepted Factor’s proposal of marriage. ‘‘It was very romantic,” she explains, as if this all makes sense. ‘‘But when I said ‘Yes,’ I knew I would never marry this person."

But she wore his ring, another large diamond. And she told people—her parents, her friend Tori Spelling—that she and Dean were officially engaged. A week later, she met Judd Nelson on the set of Blindfold, and they started an affair and Dean became a problem.

‘‘At the beginning of Blindfold,” she says, ‘‘there was no love for this person anymore. The only thing left was, really, fear. Fear and hate. And he started getting jealous that the film was taking up so much of my time. Dean repeatedly hid my keys from me so I would be late. He would lock himself in the bathroom, where my script was and my keys were, so I would be late for work. That’s when it really hit me, when it started affecting my career. I thought, That is wrong.” (Factor admits locking himself in the bathroom once, because he was "weary of the verbal assaults.’”)

The next big incident occurred after she moved into the Four Seasons. She went back to their house to pack up some of her stuff, and things got heated. She claims he closed a car door on her legs and she went nuts. "I snapped,” she recalls, admitting to her only act of nonvictim behavior. “‘In self-defense, I slapped him back and I kicked him in the leg. And that’s about all I did. But he wouldn’t let me go. And if somebody has both your arms and they’re hitting you, it’s like, well, what can you do? You can kick them. And you can try and hit them. And then you can try and run. The minute he released me, I did not hang around to beat him up. I jumped in my car and left. But no, no. I never tried to run over Dean, which is what he says. I am not a psychotic person.”’

Factor had large bruises on his legs and arms (which the police later photographed), and he says he was terrified. Afraid enough to file for a restraining order against Shannen. She found out about the order when she got back from Dallas, where she had gone for a few days with Judd. That trip itself was not without incident: Nelson was accused of "kicking a woman in the head’’ while he and Shannen were dining in a local restaurant. According to the newspaper account, Judd, who claims the kick was accidental, was enraged by the woman’s remarks regarding his floundering career.

When they returned, Shannen was horrified: the restraining order meant she couldn’t get her clothes, her furniture, anything in the house. ‘‘It went from me being the victim to me being the accused," she says, still outraged.

Lawyers were hired all around and statements were taken. Oddly enough, Shannen’s seem to have disappeared. “‘Somehow all that paperwork got mixed up,”’ she says. ‘‘My statement was never really put on the record. Even though I made it. And even though I signed it. Nothing was ever done with it.”’ She pauses, adopting her favorite pose, the embattled young star. ‘‘It comes down to a thing about a young actress who’s had a little bad press,” she says. ‘“They try and make an example of you. You know?’

She looks around her living room. "But I did get everything back,’’ she says, surveying her possessions. ‘‘His home is now completely empty. . . . Do you understand how trashed this place is going to get when I really unpack? It’s going to be completely mad. My mom is coming over, thank God, to clean. She’s brilliant at it. And she loves doing it. When Dean and I moved in together, Dean and I…” Her voice trails off. ‘‘I’ve got to stop doing that. I mean, enough.”

Dean Factor and his lawyer, Edwin Lasman, of Fowler & Lasman, are sitting in the conference room at the firm’s 19th-floor office in Century City. Factor is wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and he is very tan. He is remarkably calm considering Shannen’s accusations of mental and physical abuse. ‘‘Dean is a big sweet guy,’’ says a friend. ‘‘He’s as dangerous as a pat of butter.”

Factor stands by his story—that she pulled a gun on him, that she tried to run him over with the car, that he struck her only in self-defense, and the rest. He does, however, want to explain why he stayed with her, why he wanted to marry her. “‘It’s perplexing,’’ he admits. “‘After the gun incident, she called my mother on the phone. She said she was so sorry, that she wanted to seek therapy. And I asked her, a few days later, when she was going to see the therapist, and she said she wasn’t. She said, ‘I lied.’ But then she’d be really sweet and everything was fine. Then something would just snap.”’

Shannen denies that she apologized for the gun incident, which she claims never happened. She also maintains that she never said she’d seek therapy.

“I’m a very understanding person,’’ Factor continues. ‘‘And Shannen’s not that bad. I don’t think. Inside. I just think there’s a lot of external factors. . . .Let’s say I had rejected her and hurt her until she was going crazy. You know? But I don’t think it’s a malicious kind of thing.”’

And yet he did file a complaint, and he claims to still be scared. "I'm afraid I'll come home and Shannen will be in the driveway. And who knows what will happen?" He pauses. "I'd really just like to move on with my life. I don’t really understand any of this. It just. . . unraveled."

(Part 1 – Part 3)