#I'm playing with them like dolls I know them personally I'm the fourth person in the relationship I'm an over invested god

[autisticrosewilson]

•°•Spotlight Overture•°•

Pairing(s): Willis Todd & Catherine Clemens, Catherine Clemens/Nathalie Knight (Nocturna), Willis Todd|Wingman & Natasha Mitternacht|Nocturna, Catherine Clemens/Willis Todd/Nathalie Knight

Warnings: Gotham typical crime, canon divergence, eventual polyamory, secret identity shenanigans, this mini series is going to get very sad, don't ask me about the time period DC doesn't know and neither do I

Willis is led through the darkened club by two men in matching suits. It's a tasteful place compared to his usual haunts, the dance floor is a blur of star confetti and neon light bouncing off the disco ball on the ground floor while the bar and tables litter the top. The old Hollywood decor reminds him of a girl he knew in highschool, he vaguely recognizes the posters framed on the wall as musical productions she used to like.

The nature of the patrons is obvious immediately, older men in loud suits and the scent of too-strong cologne permeating the air under the reek of alcohol and sweat. Gotham's nightlife is in full swing here, ripe with the parasites that fester in her underbelly.

Gotham's old money is hardly his first choice of employer, but things have been tight at the shop lately and cash is cash.

"Wingman," a severe looking older man greets him when he enters the study, "a pleasure to have you." The man greets him curtly. Charles Mitternacht, head of a prominent, if lesser known crime Family. Owner of The Spotlight and the man who will be signing his paycheck, although Willis isn't entirely sure what he's being paid to do yet.

A bad idea to go into a situation like this without all the details but no guts, no glory he supposes.

The office decor differs from the rest of the club, the bookshelves are overstuffed and the furniture is worn but well cared for. The Mitternacht's are an old family, and this is an old building. Let it never be said that they're uneducated or arrogant, you don't stay under the Bat's radar even with their kind of notoriety by thinking like the common crook.

It's another reason why Willis agreed to the terms so easily, they wouldn't have him do anything too heinous or flashy, they know better than to think it wouldn't come down on them eventually.

Mrs. Mitternacht is sat beside her husband, dark hair done up in elaborate victory rolls reminiscent of the faded photos of his mother in her youth. Well, now he knows who decorated the place. Her lips are a bright shade of red and her eyes are sharp, calculating despite the ditzy smile on her face, with straight white teeth befitting of the silver screen.

He doesn't buy it for a second.

Their children are gathered behind them, standing at attention in a straight line. He knows three out of the five, the other two he at least recognizes from past events, but there's one set apart from the others. A separation so distinct he almost doesn't recognize that she's a part of the family at all. He suspects maybe she's a daughter in law, but he's never seen her before, and there's nothing the elite love more than showing off.

She's pale, unnaturally pale, like she's never been touched by sunlight before. It's stark, even for a Gothamite. The dress she wears is different from the others, simpler, something you'd wear at a dance recital rather than a high society event. There's a dark veil covering her face, obscuring all defining features behind layers of lace. She's the tallest one in the room, even taller than him, although she's lanky and thin. Frail, almost.

He doesn't believe that either, he's reliably certain that there's at least one knife hidden beneath her dress. He's under no illusion that even in the thin ballet flats, she's a threat. One look at long nails sharpened into vicious points is enough to confirm it.

"I apologize for the secrecy of this meeting, but word travels fast in our circles." Charles pulls his attention back to the reason for his being here. "This request might be a little unusual for someone of your...caliber," with the way he said it, Willis can't tell if that's an insult, "but you have a reputation for being reliable and versatile. Both admirable traits that I think will serve our cause well." He continues.

Willis takes a moment to think about that with arms crossed and head tilted slightly, expression hidden behind his helmet. "What kinda job 're we talkin about here?" He decides not to beat around the bush.

Charles nods, seeming to appreciate his bluntness. "A bodyguard. It'll be a longer job, but I assure that you'll be paid handsomely should you accept." He explains, straightforward and confident despite the curve ball he's just thrown.

God bless him but Willis has never been able to keep his mouth shut. "...You hired a gun for...protection?" He can't help but voice his confusion. Sure, hirelings take all kinds of jobs, but protection detail usually goes to more high profile mercs. "Kinda the opposite of my job." He points out.

"I believe in subverting expectations." The man grins, cold and sharp. "I think you'll do just fine. More than competent enough for the task, and discreet to boot." Ah, there it is. Subtlety isn't a practice most Gotham criminals employ, but the Mitternacht's have turned it into an art form. "If you'll accept this contract, I'm positive we'll all benefit." He proposes.

"And who would I be guarding, exactly?" Willis asks after some deliberation. He already has an idea, but he'd like to have it confirmed before he agrees to anything.

"Natasha." He orders, gesturing for the mystery girl to step forward. Her hair is so dark it almost blends with the veil, stringy curls falling over her white skin like an oil spill. She moves silently, nothing but the whisper of her skirt to signal her approach and if Willis weren't watching her, he'd never be able to tell she moved at all.

"My youngest," Charles introduces, "a newer addition to the family." He says cryptically. That...could mean a lot of things. But if they don't offer, he won't pry. None of his business.

He can see her a bit better now that she's separated from the shadows of the room. On closer inspection she can't be much older than him, maybe nineteen or twenty.

Willis nods slowly, trying not to give anything away through his body language. "How long should I expect this contract to last?" He urges.

"A few months, at the least." Charles shrugs carelessly, although he's too tense to read as casual. "You'll be well compensated the whole time, of course. You seem like you could benefit from a long term paycheck." He sniffs, pointedly eyeing Willis's patchwork of homemade gear. Sure, it's not the best, but it's functional and cohesive, certainly not deserving of that much ridicule. He can't deny that he's in need of the cash though, it's the only reason he's here at all.

Thinking back to his near empty fridge and the long list of things that need to be fixed, and replaced, and bought makes him swallow the snarky remark bubbling up in his throat in favor of thinking logically. "...Deal." he decides. "Where do I sign?" He straightens up from his casual lean, plopping down into the chair on the other side of the desk.

Catherine inhales deeply, the musk of the Alley preferable to the stagnant air of the club. She misses the smell of wet earth and clean air, wishes she hadn't taken the ability to breathe easily for granted. Distance really does make the heart grow fonder.

She knows she smells like a mini-bar, the fruity perfume she'd doused herself in before her shift having faded through the night. She can't wait to get back to her dorm, the showers should be empty this time of night, perfect for her to take her time scrubbing the layer of sweat and gunk from her skin. Unfortunately, her shift isn't quite over yet, she's working a double tonight since her favorite coworker is out sick. She barely managed to escape outside for her break, luckily she's been working here long enough to have some seniority and she managed to wrangle one of the new hires into taking over for a while.

She sighs, rummaging around her pockets for her cigarettes but pauses when she can't find her lighter. She curses, double checking just to make sure and clicking her tongue when she comes up empty handed.

"Need a light?" A voice at the end of the Alley catches her attention and her free hand falls to the pocket housing her switch blade on instinct.

Her gaze locks on a tall, broad man with dark curls and a crooked grin. He's dressed down in a plain black button down, the first few buttons undone and sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Immediately she can tell he's not the usual bar patron. He's got messy curls and an obnoxious tie reminiscent of an arcade carpet hanging loosely from his neck. His accent is too thick to be upper class, the kind of lilt that can only be found in some of the worse parts of the city.

His posture is relaxed, nothing about him is hostile or demanding. He doesn't even make a move to approach, just waits for her to answer. Like offering a treat to a skittish cat.

She swallows thickly, fingers wrapped tightly around the knife, but she nods. "Yeah, please." She mutters, just loud enough to be heard in the quiet alley. Well, as quiet as Gotham gets. There are cars passing by every few minutes and a dog barking a block over, she can see lights on in the surrounding apartments and there's an old woman smoking her own cigarette on the balcony above them.

It doesn't make her relax any, she knows full well that Gothamites stay to themselves. It probably wouldn't do her much good to call for help. She's on her own, but she's used to that.

The man stops just short of arms reach, movements telegraphed as he tosses her the red Bic. She catches it easily, the "Good throw," Slipping out before she even thinks about it. She's quick about lighting the cigarette, moving to toss it back the second the flame catches.

"Keep it," the man insists, "I got spares." He assures. He leans casually against the grimey brick, body angled towards her. It's not as claustrophobic as it might feel otherwise, there's a good chunk of space between them, she has faith that she'd be faster than him if she needed to get away. She relaxes just a bit, exhaling a puff of smoke into the humid night air.

"Thanks." She nods curtly, eyes glued to the graffiti on the building across from them.

They lapse into what she's pretty sure is an awkward silence, although the man doesn't seem bothered. Studying him out of her peripherals gives her the impression he's perfectly content where he is, lips tilted up just enough for one of his dimples to show, no sign that he's planning to leave anytime soon.

"Y'do any sports?" He asks out of the blue, startling her into facing him head on.

She blinks at him, bewildered for a second before deciding to answer. "...Used to." She offers hesitantly. "Softball and volleyball." She elaborates a little.

He hums approvingly, "Thought so. Gotta good arm on ya." He grins at her, and it's a stupidly endearing thing. Unrestrained delight and so very proud of himself. It softens the lines of his face, seems like it lights up the whole alley.

"Thanks." she says a little more sincerely this time. Inhales another puff of smoke and then let's it out. "How about you?" She wonders.

"Hockey, wrestling. Some football." He shrugs. She can see it, he looks like the kinda man that can throw his weight around. He doesn't look like the kind of guy who likes to. An enigma, to be certain.

"I'm Willis by the way." He introduces himself officially. It's so casual it catches her off guard. You don't just give your name to people, she learned that early on. Gotham almost seems to operate by fae rules, where deals are currency and reality is altered. Names have power, you don't just hand them out.

It could always be a fake name, but something tells her that's not the case. Willis is either very cocky or very stupid. He hasn't struck her as either yet.

"Kat," she offers the same name printed on her name tag, "nice to meet you." She almost means it too. As far as late night encounters go, this hasn't been nearly as bad as it could've been.

Willis grins at her like she just put the stars in the sky and it pulls a soft smile to her face before she can stop it.

The back door swings open with a creak that makes her jump, pushing herself off the wall where she hadn't realized she'd started to slump. A frazzled server emerges, dragging his feet as he nods to her. "Louise wants you back, new kid is fighting for his life in there." He informs her, already pulling his own cigarettes out.

"Thanks Chen." She nods to him as she starts making her way inside.

She pauses just before the door, glancing back to Willis whose still grinning like he's won something. "See ya around." She waves him off, pointedly ignoring her coworkers raised eyebrow. She's sure she'll know his middle name, address, and blood type by the time their little nightshift crew finally goes home for the night.

It's only a few hours later when she goes to slide the lighter into her purse that she catches sight of the number written on the back in sharpie.

"Cathyyyyyy!" Her drawn out whine rings through the apartment. It's 10 AM, half an hour before it's time for her first class to start. She lets herself fall to the second hand couch, arm thrown over her eyes to protect them from the morning sun streaming from the open kitchen blinds.

Catherine hardly spares her a glance from where she's scribbling away at something, pages and books spread out on the tilted kitchen table. To her credit, she closes the blinds quickly. "Mornin' Nattie." That southern lilt drips out, saturated with amusement. "You sure are up early." The red head chirps. She's always been the morning person between the two of them. It's exceedingly unfair how easily she seems to work through her lack of sleep. Nathalie doesn't know what she'd do if she didn't have her abilities to aid her through long nights and arduous lectures.

"Is breakfast ready?" She decidedly does not pout. She can't be expected to help it. If she were still residing in her family's estate a full course meal would already be prepared.

But then she wouldn't be waking up to Catherine every morning. Wouldn't be able to see her backlit by the sun like an angel as she sips her cheap tea out of a novelty mug. It's a fair trade, she supposes.

Her fortune will be waiting for her at the end of her studies, hopefully she'll have convinced Catherine to come with her by then.

Catherine hums an affirmation, finally looking up at Nathalie with that impossibly fond look. "In the fridge, gonna have'ta heat it up if ya want some." She grins.

"Cathyyyyyyyyyyy!" She groans, arm thrown back over eyes.

"Somethin' the matter, darlin'?" It's not fair how effective the nickname is on her, how it makes her melt into a puddle on the creaking couch.

Catherine doesn't make her wallow in her misery for too long. Nathalie hears a snort that makes her look up just in time to see her fiddling with the microwave. It's a minute or so before she pops it open, careful to stop it before the beeping can wreak havoc on Nathalie's sensitive ears.

"Breakfast is served, my lady." Her twang is replaced by a posh accent that mimics Nathalie's own. It's not as mocking as it would be from someone else. The affectionate warmth is soured when she thinks of the new bodyguard she's been assigned, the man that will be tailing her every night for the foreseeable future.

"You ever go outside? Or would that be too much for my lady's delicate sensibilities?" Wingman had teased, his voice muffled from behind the birdlike mask. It reminded her of a plague doctor at first, but on closer inspection it's more mechanical.

She had not dignified that with a response.

She gratefully accepts the bowl of reheated pasta. It's not gourmet, but it's a family recipe Catherine was delightfully proud to show off, which might make it better. If you subscribe to sentimental things like that. Which Natasha Mitternacht most certainly doesn't.

She's glad she's just Nathalie Knight right now. It means she can forgo all of her manners to shove the biggest bite she can into her mouth and grin with unsharpened teeth. There's a trill of victory when she sees Cathy huff out a laugh and plop down beside her.

"Better eat quick, ya gotta start gettin' ready soon." Catherine reminds her, thumb rubbing soft circles on the pale skin of her ankle.

Nathalie hums in acknowledgement, eating at a slightly slower pace now. "What would I do without you?" She remarks, and it's a joke but it's really not.

"Perish the thought," Cathy grins at her, "You got me." She promises. Nathalie wonders what her lips taste like. The lipstick she wears today reminds her of cherry pie filling, bright red and glossy.

"Do you work tonight?" Nathalie asks, as if she doesn't know. As if she doesn't see Kat behind the bar every night, faking smiles to bad men and struggling to hide her sympathy for their escorts. As if she's the uninterested, unobservant roommate she pretends to be.

Catherine sighs, slumps against the couch and lets her head tilt back to stare at the ceiling. "Yup, 'nother double tonight." She informs.

Nathalie shifts her legs into Catherine's lap, bare legs against faded jeans. "One day I will pay for everything and you won't even have to look at that place." She promises. She always keeps her promises, but Catherine doesn't know that. There's a lot of things Catherine doesn't know about her.

"Yeah, okay." Catherine snorts, predictably brushing it off as a joke. She will learn, eventually. Nathalie does not need to convince her right now. "One day." She sighs, tired and longing.

Nathalie wonders what Catherine's one day is. Hopes she's included. Knows that's wistful thinking at best.

Her alarm goes off, faintly buzzing in the pocket of her (Cathy's) hoodie. She ignores it, and even though Catherine undoubtedly hears it she doesn't say anything either.

One day.

[flowersforbucky]

down bad

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.9k

author's note: i couldn't stop thinking about bucky being able to use his metal hand as a vibrator and therefore this was born.

warnings/tags: SMUT, oral (female receiving), fingering, bucky being used as a human vibrator, multiple orgasms, language, consumption of alcohol, reader is afab, no use of y/n, slightly possessive bucky, 18+ only

“You’ve got to be fucking joking,” Natasha mutters through a mouth full of popcorn. “Tyler from the statistics department? Are we talking about the same Tyler from statistics?”

“Nat, for the fourth time, yes. Tyler from statistics. The only Tyler from statistics that I know.” You reach for the bottle of Moscato that the two of you are sharing, pouring yourself some more wine.

“Nuh-uh,” Natasha shakes her head. “I don't believe you. There's no way he could be that bad.” She takes a sip from her own glass of wine. “He's too gorgeous,” she shrugs, turning to face you on the couch. The romantic comedy you had picked out for your bi-monthly movie night plays forgotten in the background.

“Trust me,” you sigh. “I was just as shocked as you are. But I swear on my life, he stuck his tongue in my ear. In my fucking ear, but wouldn't go down on me.” You can tell by the look on her face that Nat is trying her hardest not to laugh.

“He said his dick game is ‘too good to need to eat a girl out’.” You shake your head, cringing at the memory. “Which is also what he said when I merely suggested that he use my vibrator on me instead. He looked like I had kicked his dog.”

“Well?” she asks, a pained expression across her features. “Was it? Too good?”

“I didn't stay to find out,” you admit. “I faked a work emergency and dipped.” A laugh breaks through her pursed lips.

“I'm sorry–” she says, although her face says otherwise. “I shouldn't laugh. You just have the worst luck with men. Isn't that the third failed hook-up in what? Six months?”

“Don't fucking remind me,” you groan, throwing your head back on the couch and staring up at the living room ceiling. “I think I've lost all hope of ever having an orgasm given to me by another person again.”

Nat opens her mouth to speak, but quickly closes it when you both notice voices approaching from the hallway.

Sam and Bucky enter the room a moment later, both dressed uncharacteristically nice. You suddenly feel the desire to conceal yourself with the fleece throw blanket laying across your lap. You and Nat usually plan your movie nights for when the tower is relatively empty, so you're just wearing a pair of old sweatpants and a tank top. Bare-faced and hair unstyled, the fact that Bucky's gaze is locked on you as the two of them approach where you and Nat are lounging doesn't help. He's not smiling - but there's a look on his face that you don't quite understand. The ghost of a smirk on his lips and a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

It's a look that makes you nervous - in addition to already feeling flutters in the pit of your stomach at how fucking good he looks.

“Hey, boys,” Nat greets them cheerily. “Where are the two of you going so dolled up?”

“There's a new nightclub in Brooklyn that a group of SHIELD trainees are going to tonight,” Sam answers. “They invited us and we've got nothing better to do. Figured we'd go check it out, get a few drinks. You ladies want to tag along? Or are you too busy watching - what is this, 10 Things I Hate About You?” He gestures towards the screen.

“Couldn't hurt to get out of the house for a while tonight, right?” Nat looks at you for confirmation, a knowing gleam in her eyes. “Who knows, you might even meet someone,” she adds, nudging you with her elbow.

Bucky lets out a sound halfway between a laugh and a cough, which he tries to play off as the latter. You narrow your eyes at him before glancing back to Natasha.

“For sure,” you agree, trying to ignore Bucky's bizarre behavior. “Couldn't hurt. You guys go on, we'll get ready and head there soon. Text us the name of the club?” You direct the last part to Sam in particular.

“You got it,” Sam says as he pulls his cell phone from his coat pocket. He turns to leave when both your and Nat’s phones chime with the club information. “Let's go man, our Uber's here,” he directs at Bucky.

“See you both soon,” he says before turning to follow Sam, though his gaze is still only on one of you.

“I'm gonna go throw on some make-up, curl my hair, and hope I can find something somewhat cute to–” Nat starts as soon as Bucky and Sam have turned back down the hallway.

“Was he acting kind of odd?” you interrupt her in a hushed tone.

“Barnes? Always. I've stopped reading into it too much.”

“Some spy you are,” you mumble. “Meet me back here when you're ready.”

— — — — —

One hour later, you're applying some last minute mascara and lip gloss in the backseat of an Uber on your way to downtown Brooklyn. Natasha sits beside you, ranting about an assignment that Fury has tasked her with and you swear you're trying your hardest to absorb everything she's saying - but your mind keeps going back to the way Bucky was looking at you just an hour ago.

What was with that little smirk? That curious glimmer in his eyes? Had he overheard your conversation with Nat? Had he developed the ability to read minds and knew you were thinking about how fucking hot he looked? Or was that thought simply written all over your face?

You knew you couldn't deny it. Bucky does look exceptionally attractive in his black suit, with his perfectly tousled hair - but you had found him to be ridiculously good looking since you'd first met him. Even in casual, everyday clothes, even in gym shorts and drenched in sweat, even covered in blood after particularly brutal miss–

“You girls have a great evening,” your Uber driver interrupts your train of thought as he comes to a stop in front of your destination.

You really need to get fucking laid. You definitely shouldn't be having these kinds of thoughts about Bucky. He's your coworker, your teammate, your training partner on many occasions, your friend…

Natasha thanks him and hands him a generous cash tip before climbing out of the car right after you.

“Thanks,” you tell her. “I'll buy our drinks.”

“Don't worry about me,” she tells you with a sly grin as you both flash the bouncer your IDs and enter the club. Despite the night still being relatively young, it's already bustling inside.

“You just focus on meeting people, mingling, maybe hitting it off with a super hot guy and taking him back to your place for some mind-blowing–”

“Super hot guy? Are you talking about me?” Sam’s voice interrupts Nat. You both turn around to see him and Bucky walking towards you, drinks in hand.

There's a roguish smile on Bucky's face as his eyes skim up and down your figure.

“You both look wonderful,” he compliments, but once again, his stare is focused only on you. If Natasha notices, she says nothing.

To be fair, you were impressed with how well you managed to put yourself together with such little notice. You found a black, backless mini dress crammed in the back of your closet that you had forgotten all about after snagging it on clearance forever ago. The form-fitting material hugs you in all the right ways, and paired with your favorite pair of strappy black heels, you're feeling infinitely more confident than you were when Bucky saw you just an hour prior.

“Thanks!” You chirp quickly, averting your gaze from him to take in your surroundings. To your left, the dance floor is lively, though not too overcrowded for your liking. To your right, there's a bar surrounded by tables filled with groups of people conversing - you vaguely recognize a couple of SHIELD agents huddled around one. The entire room is illuminated by the faint blue-green glow of the mood lighting, and the bass of the music vibrates through the floorboards.

Sam and Bucky excuse themselves to go say hey to the group of agents that had invited them, while Nat all but drags you over to the bar. You order a double shot of whiskey and throw it back as quickly as you can.

“I see what you mean now,” Nat whispers to you after downing her shot of tequila. “About Barnes,” she clarifies. “He's been eye-fucking you since we walked through the door.”

If you hadn't already swallowed your liquor, you would have spewed it all over her.

“He has not been eye-fucking me, Nat,” you say in an almost scolding tone.

“I'm just saying,” she throws her hands up. “There’s no way he could possibly be any worse than the last few guys you've gone for. I think you should go for it,” she shrugs.

“It's not that I don't think he'd be good,” you say defensively, forcing yourself to look away from where he and Sam are socializing with the small group of SHIELD agents a few tables away. “I just don't want things to be weird afterwards. We work together nearly every day, and we have a bunch of mutual friends–”

“Suit yourself,” she cuts you off in a tone of voice that very much says if you say so. “Now, are you going to dance with me or not?” She adds as she begins tugging you towards the ever-busying dance floor.

You spend the next half hour dancing with Nat before she's swept away by some black-haired doctor looking type. Good for her, you think as you watch them converse intimately at a small booth on the other side of the room.

Thanks to the liquid courage that runs through your veins, you're okay with the fact that Bucky stands just twenty feet away from you, watching you as you dance among the thick crowd of people.

You've made eye contact with him a few times now - on accident or on purpose, you're not sure at this point. But each time, your eyes lingers on his for a moment longer than the last.

You're mentally daring him to come here, to make a move, to do something other than stand to the sidelines of whatever conversation Sam and the others are engaged in.

The slightest bit of pressure on your waist snaps you back to the now congested dance floor.

You look up to find that the hand on your waist belongs to a tall man with shoulder length, sandy blonde hair. He's conventionally attractive enough, though not who you were hoping would come grab you on the dance floor.

“I'm Shawn,” he introduces himself, loudly enough for you to hear him over the roaring music. You tell him your name, pushing aside the pang of disappointment in your chest.

“Do you want to go somewhere a bit quieter to talk, maybe? Let me buy you a drin–”

“There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you,” a voice booms from behind you.

Shawn immediately retracts his hand from your waist, backing up a few inches as Bucky comes into view beside you.

“Must not have been looking too hard, I've been right here this whole time,” you jab back with a smug smile.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to–” Shawn says as he starts to back away.

“No worries, bud,” Bucky says in an overly friendly voice as he moves to stand in front of you, blocking you from Shawn's view entirely.

“Took you long enough,” you tell Bucky once the man is out of ear shot, once again beginning to sway to the music. “Get bored of listening to Sam hype himself up to the newbies?”

He takes a step closer, angling himself behind you. The crowd of people surrounding you edges you closer to him - your bare back brushing against the cool satin fabric of his suit.

“Maybe,” his chest vibrates against your skin when he speaks. He places his hands on either side of your hips - eliciting goosebumps across your skin in a way that no one else has in a long, long time.

“Or maybe I just wanted to save you from wasting your time on another guy who can't make you come.”

Your movements come to an abrupt pause as his words hit you.

He had fucking overheard your conversation with Natasha.

At a loss for words, you turn to face him. There's a shit-eating grin spread across his face. He thinks this is hilarious and it's obvious.

“Hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude to eavesdrop?”

“Is it really eavesdropping if I have superhuman hearing?” He takes a step closer to you, closing what little distance was separating you. The peaks of your breasts brush against his chest.

“So what happens now that you've saved me from another unsatisfactory hook-up?” You challenge, staring up at him in the neon blue lighting.

You can smell hints of cedarwood and sage from his cologne in your close proximity. It's so delicious that it's dizzying.

“Let me take you somewhere more private than this dance floor and I'll show you.”

“You seem to have a lot of confidence in your ability to give me a better experience,” you say, leaning forward so that your face is just inches from his.

He responds by placing his flesh hand on the small of your back and pulling you flush against him. The tips of his fingers continue to dance down the skin of your exposed spine. His vibranium hand comes to cradle your jaw, his metal thumb tracing your bottom lip.

His mouth forms a dark smirk - and then you feel it. It starts soft and subtle and then gradually increases in intensity.

His fucking thumb is vibrating against your lip.

If you hadn't been standing in the middle of a crowded dance floor at a nightclub in downtown Brooklyn, you would have taken that thumb into your mouth and sucked on it right then and there.

“What do you say?” he asks, now tugging on your bottom lip with the pulsing digit. “Are you going to let me take you to the first empty room I can find in this place and make you come?”

“I say show me the way.”

He removes his hand from your face and turns you in the direction of the back of the club. He guides you through the throng of dancers, keeping his hands placed firmly on either side of your waist from behind. His vibranium fingers still hum softly, reminding you of what he says is to come.

Directly past the dance floor, there's a hallway blocked off by a rope with a sign that reads employees only. Taking a quick look around, you see that all of the patrons surrounding you and Bucky are paying you no mind. Bucky unhooks the flimsy rope and the two of you slip down the hallway.

He jiggles the handles of several doors that all turn out to be locked. Not wanting to waste any time or draw any attention to yourselves with picking locks, you continue down the dark corridor until the heavy music from the heart of the club fades to a muted roar.

The very last door opens without a hitch.

Thanks to the pale orange glow of a table lamp on a desk in the corner of the room, you can see that you're in a makeshift office/supply room - a couple of filing cabinets, cleaning supplies, extra glassware, and some sound equipment strewn haphazardly throughout the limited space.

Bucky clicks the lock into place as soon as he closes the door behind him.

You're going to turn around him and tell him that he doesn't have to do this - that as badly as you want this, you don't want to ruin your friendship, that as badly as you want him, he doesn't have anything to prove to you - but his lips are already on yours as soon as you start to open your mouth.

He doesn't take his lips off of yours as he guides you backwards to the rickety wooden desk. The backs of your thighs hit the table and Bucky effortlessly lifts you to sit on the edge, giving him the perfect angle to deepen the kiss - with his tongue exploring your mouth, you're unable to stop yourself from groaning into the kiss.

You fist your fingers into his hair, tugging just hard enough so that he hisses into your mouth. His own hands trail from the sides of your stomach and down your thighs, until he reaches the tail of your dress. You instinctively part your legs for him, as much as the restrictive fabric will allow, and his vibranium hand shoots between your thighs.

He teases you, dragging his index finger along the cloth of your panties that you know you're close to soaking through already. Just as the tip of his finger pauses above your clit, his finger begins emitting the softest vibration.

You break the kiss, breathless as you throw your head back at the sensation. Bucky takes it as an opportunity to attach his lips to the pulse point of your throat, nipping your flesh with his teeth followed by a wet kiss.

He continues with the ministrations through your panties until you're rutting against his hand, needing more. He tugs your underwear to the side and increases the intensity of the vibration before nudging his middle finger past your entrance.

You have to hold onto his shoulders to steady yourself - despite the fact that you're sitting, your body feels like jelly beneath his touch. He adds in his index finger with ease before cupping your pussy in his palm - the heel of his hand pulsating against your clit.

“Fuck, Bucky,” you cry against his mouth.

“You're so fucking wet for me, you know that?” He coos, thrusting both of his fingers against the spongy-flesh of your walls.

You can feel the vibrations of his hand all the way from your belly to your toes.

You begin grinding your hips to meet the movement of his fingers, fucking yourself against his hand. There's a familiar knot forming in your lower belly as he curls his fingers inside you -

“I want you to think about me and how good I'm making you feel every time you think about letting some fuckin’ nobody touch you,” he says in a low voice next to your ear. “I want you to think about riding my fingers until you come all over my hand.”

His words send you over the edge and you do exactly that - your pussy clenching around his fingers as you ride them through your orgasm. While you're still coming down from the high of your climax, Bucky pulls his metal fingers out of you and brings them to your lips, inserting his index finger in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the slick metal as he brings the vibrations to a halt and then slowly pulls the finger from your mouth.

He picks you up off the edge of the desk and plants you back on the ground - your legs still shaking from how hard you had come.

“Turn around and lean over the desk,” he instructs you, soft but authoritative.

You don't know if it's because of the way he's looking at you or because of how good he's already made you feel, but in that moment, you would've done anything he asked of you.

You bend over the desk, supporting yourself by leaning on your forearms. You peak back over your shoulder to look at Bucky - he hikes your dress up, baring your ass to him.

He lets out an audible groan before he has even pulled your panties down to your ankles.

He kneels on the ground behind you, his face inches away from your cunt. He uses both his flesh and metal hands to spread you open for him, and then his tongue is licking up your center from behind.

God, you hope no one tries to come into this room. The door may be locked but the sounds that someone would hear if they even walked up to the door…

Bucky knows just how to make you writhe above him. He's soft when he's kissing up your folds and unsparing when he's sucking your clit between his lips. His hands hold your ass in a firm grasp that teeters between pleasure and pain.

You grind back against his face and he moans so deeply that you feel the vibration of it up your core. Your eyes roll back into your head as you clutch the sides of the desk to better support yourself.

His enthusiasm alone has you spiraling towards a second climax embarrassingly fast.

“You know,” he murmurs against your sensitive pussy. “When I overheard you say that someone had refused to go down on you, I couldn't believe it. What a fuckin idiot to pass this up.” He gives your ass cheek a firm slap with his flesh hand before diving his face between your legs once more.

It's just seconds before you feel the telltale pressure growing in your lower belly once more. You go limp against the table, Bucky placing his hands on the backs of your thighs to help keep you upright as you ride out your orgasm on his face.

You continue to lay against the desk as you regain control of your breathing. Bucky stands up, tugging your panties up your legs and back around your waist as he does. He then shimmies your dress back down into place so that you're once again looking club-appropriate.

When you turn around to face him, he's wiping your slick from his lower face on the sleeve of his suit, once again displaying a shit-eating grin.

“What was it you said?” He asks in mocking contemplation. “You had lost all hope of ever having an orgasm given to you by another person again?”

“I think you've made your point. You're fantastic at eating pussy and you're a walking human-sex toy.” You roll your eyes at him and start to walk towards the door, but he grabs your wrist in his metal hand, stopping you.

He pulls you back to him and brings his flesh hand to cradle your jawline. He stares at you in a heavy, uncertain silence for a split second before bringing his lips to yours.

It's a kiss that's a bit more hesitant, and a lot less rushed than the one before. You taste yourself all over him, warm and salty. He takes his time getting lost in your mouth - you savor every second and it still comes to and end all too once.

“Couldn't help myself,” he smiles softly when he pulls away. “Just had to kiss you one last time.”

You can't help the way your heart skips a beat when he says the word last.

You clear your throat. “We should probably go find Sam and Natasha,” you say, giving him a small smile in return. “I'm sure they're both wondering where the hell we are.”

You spend the rest of the evening attempting to mingle with friends, but there's one thought that torments you for the remaining duration of the night - just a few hours ago, you doubted that you'd ever have a satisfactory hook-up ever again.

Now, you had to wonder if anyone else could ever make you feel as good as Bucky did.

♡♡♡♡♡

i left this kind of open-ended soooo leave it to your own interpretation what happens next for them 🤭

as always comments/reblogs are infinitely appreciated. thanks for reading!

my masterlist

[7-wonders]

At the Edge of the Universe

Michael Langdon x Reader (Mad Love Act II, Chapter XIV)

Summary: It’s time to meet the residents of Outpost 3 as Michael begins his interviews to see who will make it to the Sanctuary (spoiler alert: not many).

Word count: 4.1k

A note from the author: Surprise Mad Love drop! We are down to our last three or four chapters, can you believe it? I've told myself that I'm not allowed to write anything else until I finish this, so expect updates semi-frequently. Goal is to get this bad boy finished by June! As always—hope you enjoy, and remember that likes, comments, and reblogs make my world go round!

Mad Love Masterlist

This is your fourth Outpost visit, and as you look out at the small crowd of survivors gathered in the sitting room of Outpost 3, you believe that you can confidently say that every one of them looks exactly the same.

Not appearance-wise, of course. Overseers are allowed to establish their own rules for their respective Outposts, including wardrobes. Most had been pretty laidback, actually. Outpost 3 is by far the most draconian, and you’re already regretting not pushing back on Michael’s decision to have you join him as you sweat in your stiff Victorian gown.

Though outfits and rules may change, what doesn’t is the faces. Every single time, when you and Michael arrive and make your introductions, the faces of the survivors are filled with hope. The hope of new drama, the hope of continued survival, the hope of a way out of the Outpost. It’s so familiar now, and each time, it’s pained you to see. These people that the apocalypse has spared, whether due to circumstance or societal standing, have no idea that they’re just pawns in Michael’s game of chess. No, worse than pawns. They’re nothing but dolls, amusement for Michael to play with before tossing them to the side like they’re worthless.

“My name is Langdon,” Michael starts. Instead of introducing you, he looks to you to introduce yourself, and you press your lips together to keep from smirking. Oh, he’s so going to regret this.

He immediately does the moment that you introduce yourself with your first and last name. Your legal last name, the one you were born with, and not that of your infernal husband. You can feel him looking at you, surely with barely-contained rage. Instead of looking back, you simply smile warmly at the occupants of Outpost 3, waiting for Michael to get back with the program.

“We won’t sugarcoat the situation,” he says after a brief stumble. “Humanity is on the brink of failure. Our arrival here is crucial to the survival of civilized life on Earth.”

There are a couple of other things that don’t change from Outpost to Outpost, you note as you watch the interaction that unfolds. The questions, for instance, are almost always the same, and almost always asked out of turn in a way that is guaranteed to infuriate Michael. What happened to everybody, what’s the Sanctuary, will some survive, etc. You clock every single question—even robot Ms. Mead’s, though that one wasn’t too surprising since you knew how she was reprogrammed—and listen as Michael gives the same answers that he always does.

Something else that doesn’t change? The abject lust displayed by a good contingent of the survivors. Michael’s a very attractive man, which you obviously know. 18 months is a long time to be surrounded by a very small amount of people day in and day out, and now that there’s fresh blood offering them a chance at salvation, they’ll do anything to convince him that they’re worthy. You frown as the survivors jockey for his attention, to be first. 

Not because you’re jealous or anything. It seems as though the only aspect of Michael’s personality that has remained untouched through his rebirth into a full-fledged Antichrist is his devotion to you. No, you frown because you know that Michael loves to use this to his advantage. After all, lust is one of the seven deadly sins.

“What was that?” Michael asks after the introduction is over and as soon as the doors close behind you in the office in which the interviews will be conducted. 

“What?” you ask coyly, playing a game of your own.

“You know what.”

“Oh, that?” Michael nods exasperatedly. “Langdon’s not my last name.”

You’re not sure if he looks more angered or bewildered, though the combination does have a pleasing shade of red creeping up his neck. “Of course it is, you’re my wife!”

“Not legally,” you retort.

“Well, we can’t exactly go to a courthouse to make it legal.”

“Hmm, maybe you should have waited for us to get to the point where I wanted to get legally married before ending the world.”

Michael’s jaw clenches, and he smirks. “Clever, though I have to say that your attitude is getting old.”

“And yours isn’t?”

You’re both breathing heavily as you glare, daring the other to continue. You fight with Michael so often now that this is a familiar dance, and you know the next move. He goes to kiss you, and though you’re certainly tempted, you put a hand up to stop him.

“No! No, we are not having sex right now.” You try to sound convincing, though you might be attempting to convince yourself more than Michael. It’s just so easy to resort to sex. It’s the one thing that you both agree on in this new world—that you’re good at having sex together. Plus, that’s one of the only times that you don’t completely hate him, and though it pains you to admit it, you look forward to those moments when you forget why you should think him a monster.

Michael raises an eyebrow. “We could, though.”

“No.” 

To drive the point home, you put as much space between you as possible and go to the desk that holds all of the files of every Outpost 3 resident. If there’s one thing that gets Michael’s mind out of the gutter, it’s talking about his magnum opus: the apocalypse.

“What’s Dinah doing here?” That had been quite the shock, to greet Outpost 3 and find yourself meeting the eyes of the (now former, you suppose) voodoo queen. Though her own had widened in a frightened recognition, she looked down at her hands and kept her gaze there for the remainder of the meeting. The man next to her, her son, was one of those who instantly fell a little bit in love with Michael.

“She bought her spot, just like all the other rich fucks.”

“So she won’t be joining us back at the Sanctuary,” you tease.

“Absolutely not, especially now that I have no use for her and her powers.” 

Ever since ending the world, Michael’s powers have blossomed into a whole different beast. He’s so powerful now that you don’t even know the extent, and you don’t think you want to. Where before, he would have needed the help of a voodoo queen or the Supreme when doing something especially complicated or out of his wheelhouse (such as enlisting Dinah’s help when you ate Satan’s poisoned apple or getting a spell from Mallory to reveal the ghost of Cordelia Goode), now, their powers would be worthless to him. You’re no expert when it comes to magic, but you think that his power must be equal to at least ten Supremes.

You certainly don’t want to test that theory.

“How many survivors will be accompanying us back to the Sanctuary, do you think?” you ask.

“Considering I’m not hopeful about interviews, there will be two. A man and a woman, both selected for their optimal genetics.” The interviews are never something to be hopeful over, because they almost always are a disappointment. In the other twelve Outposts, there have been a total of nine survivors that impressed Michael enough with interviews alone that he spared them from their original fates and gave them a spot at the Sanctuary.

“If I had to guess, I’d say it’s the two that are very obviously in love with each other.”

“Which ones?”

You rifle through the folders until you find two with pictures that match who you were looking at in the library. “These two. Timothy and Emily.”

He looks up at you curiously. “How could you tell?”

“When they weren’t watching you, they were staring at each other.” 

Though the two were sat across the room from each other, their eyes were continually drawn together like magnets of differing polarities. You’re a little shocked that Michael couldn’t tell, considering his ‘night vision of the soul,’ as he calls it.

You just call it his creepy Antichrist powers.

You try not to, but you find yourself beginning to look through all of the files. They’re all fairly simple; a headshot, a bio, medical information. Really, Michael only uses them to look official and mysterious as he begins to pick their personalities apart bit by bit. For you however, they help to get to know the survivors, even just a little bit.

That’s precisely why you don’t like looking through these, why you don’t like these visits at all. Because knowing them, and knowing their ultimate fates, is something that makes you sick. Maybe that’s the price you’re forced to pay by the universe for being the Antichrist’s wife. You’re forced to be complicit in the continued mind games and eventual deaths of these people who thought that they were somehow safe after the bombs dropped.

Michael scoffs at the next file you flip open. “That’s one interview I’m dreading.”

“Her?”

“Mhm, Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt.” His words drip with disdain.

Coco…the name strikes some level of familiarity, but you can’t remember where you would have met a Coco. She didn’t look familiar when you saw her and her…interesting hair in the sitting room. She’s obviously a socialite, so maybe she was trending for some scandal or another in the Before. It’s so hard to remember that time, not only for the pain, but because it feels like an entire lifetime ago. 

(Was it really only eighteen months ago that you were preparing for graduation, scrolling through social media, and participating in regular 21st-century society?)

One person who does look familiar? The white-haired stylist whose work Coco sports and the one who claimed the first interview spot before anybody else, Mr. Gallant. You’d recognize him anywhere—his confidence in you was one of the sole reasons you had the courage to go down the stairs and join Michael for your first Cooperative function. But as for him?

“Mr. Gallant didn’t recognize us,” you broach.

“No, he wouldn’t. Those whose services are needed by the Cooperative but aren’t trusted enough to keep their mouths shut are…conditioned to forget.”

“You brainwash them,” you clarify.

“I don’t.” His lips twitch at his own joke. Of course, he doesn’t. That would be getting his hands dirty, which he hates doing, especially now that he has all the resources in the (under)world at his disposal.

“My bad.”

“You’re so interested in this group of survivors. Does that mean you’ll be joining me for interviews?”

When you joined Michael for the first time, at Outpost 6, you said yes when he asked you this question. It was something different, after all, and you were at first interested in being a part of the process and getting to know some new survivors. Of course, this was all before you actually sat in on the first couple of interviews and witnessed Michael’s interview ‘style’ firsthand.

You roll your eyes. “Ugh, no. I hate all the weird sexual tension you have with everyone you interview.”

Naturally, Michael gets the wrong idea and thinks that you’re jealous. He places his hands on the arms of your chair, and leans in until he can meet your eyes. “You’re my one and only, you know that.”

“I do.” You stare back at him unflinchingly. “Doesn’t mean I like it.”

“The sexual tension or that you’re my soulmate?” You simply raise an eyebrow in response, and Michael sighs before straightening up. “Well, a Gray should be arriving at any moment with Mr. Gallant, so if you don’t want to see any ‘weird sexual tension,’ I would suggest leaving now.” 

“Alright then, guess I’ll give myself a tour around ol’ Hawthorne.”

Michael pouts. “I was planning on taking you around tonight after Venable’s curfew.”

“Oh, that sucks. Have fun.” You give him a friendly pat on the shoulder as you leave the room.

Outpost 3 isn’t the largest Outpost you’ve visited, but it’s still pretty expansive. In most cases, this would mean lots of exploring to do. Unfortunately, it seems that Ms. Venable has stripped this place of anything that would make it unique. Hall after hall looks exactly the same in a way that would be disorienting if you weren’t keeping track of your whereabouts. The same boring, gray walls, the same black doors, the same frightened Grays scurrying around.

(If you had to pick the worst part about this Outpost so early on, you’d have to go with the forced servitude of some of the survivors here. Most of the other Outposts had a glorified chore chart that distributed tasks equally among survivors. Others had special privileges given to those who volunteered to work. This system? Well, this system has you hoping that Michael’s especially tough on Ms. Venable during her interview.)

After coming to the unfortunate conclusion that this is about as interesting as it’s going to get for you, you make your way back to where it all started: the library. This room at least has some character, between the fireplace and the music playing. Yes, it might be the same song on repeat, played on a vintage radio, but at least it’s something. 

As it turns out, you won’t be alone. The two that you had noticed earlier, the ones that couldn’t keep their eyes off of each other, are holding hands and whispering to each other on the couch. They spring apart when you enter, and it’s obvious that they’re not expecting anybody to see them. Their attitude, and the way they’re trying to play it off like they weren’t conspiring, gives you pause. What other severe rules has Ms. Venable imposed on those under her care?

“Hello,” you smile at the two warmly in between appraising the titles on the shelves. “Timothy and Emily, right? It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Timothy says warily.

Emily, who doesn’t have that same tact, immediately gets to her question. “Are you here to interview us?”

You shake your head. “No, I let Langdon do the interviewing.”

“So…what do you want with us?”

“I don’t want anything with you. I am trying to find some entertainment, because this place is already incredibly boring and I’ve barely been here six hours.”

Timothy laughs. “Yeah, that doesn’t really get better.”

They watch as you continue to peruse the books, waiting to see if this is some sort of trap devised by you and Michael. It’s not—you genuinely just want to find a book you haven’t read yet and escape to your bedroom for a few quiet hours. Unfortunately, nothing is modern here, not even the books, and you end up settling on Frankenstein, which you’ve read a couple of times now. 

“Is it alright if we ask you a couple of questions?” Timothy asks when you turn back around.

So much for a quiet few hours.

You sigh and sit down on the couch opposite the pair. “I can’t guarantee that I can answer all of them, but I’ll certainly try.”

“What’s it like out there?” Timothy asks the question, but both his and Emily’s eyes shine, desperate for any sort of news about the world outside the walls of Outpost 3. You wish you had better to share with them.

“Lawless. You remember the movies about the apocalypse?” They nod. “It’s worse than that. The world is completely unrecognizable, decimated by the bombs. If it weren’t for a map, I wouldn’t even know where we are. Those who survived the blast have been affected by the radiation from the fallout in the most terrible of ways. They have…sores and growths and cancer, all over their bodies. People kill each other for the smallest scrap of clothing. I’ve seen cannibals picking clean the bones of someone they once traveled with, someone that was once their friend.”

“My god,” Emily mutters.

“When M-–Langdon traveled to Outpost 2, his carriage was almost overrun by a band of survivors. They believed there was food inside, and even if there wasn’t, they wanted the chance to hurt somebody that hadn’t yet been hurt by nuclear fallout.” 

That had been a terrifying ordeal to hear Michael recount. He wasn’t scared at all, knowing both that the radiation couldn’t hurt him and that he could (did) kill all of them with the snap of his fingers. But you were, for the simple fact that the world that you had once lived in was completely gone and replaced by one where people hunted each other out of necessity, because it might be the only true meal they could eat in weeks.

“How did he get out of it?” Timothy wonders.

The true answer obviously isn’t something that you’re able to share, so you instead go with what would have been the answer if it were any other member of the Cooperative in the carriage. “The bodies of the carriage have an electric current that can be activated in case of emergency. The attackers were all electrocuted with the push of a button.”

“Langdon mentioned a Sanctuary,” Emily says. “Is that where you live?”

“We both do.”

“What’s it like?” Timothy asks, while at the same time, Emily questions, “Where is it?”

“The Sanctuary is…well, it feels like the world never ended, that it just moved underground. As for the location, I’m afraid that’s classified.” You smile sympathetically, feeling a lot like Michael.

Now that this line of communication has been established, that Emily and Timothy now feel like they can trust you, you can practically see the plethora of questions that they want to ask.

“So how do you end up working for an organization like the Cooperative?”

Now that’s a question you haven’t been asked before. “It’s kind of a long story,” you say with an awkward laugh, wracking your brain to come up with a lie convincing enough that they believe it.

Before you can, the sound of a cane clicking slowly across the floor stops you. You look in the direction of the entryway, where none other than your dour host stands. Her bright orange hair stands in stark contrast to the rest of her outfit, black like yours. She smiles at you with darkly painted lips, but it’s a smile that holds absolutely no warmth.

“Dinner is served,” she announces.

The three of you stand, but only two start to follow Ms. Venable to the kitchen. “I’ll take my leave, then,” you say.

“You won’t be joining us?” She sounds a tad incredulous, as though nobody’s told her no in quite some time. That’s likely the case.

“The Cooperative supplies us with rations of our own, so as not to take from the Outposts’ stockpiles.”

It’s technically true. Michael would rather starve than eat the gelatinous cubes that constitute nutrition, and thanks to the endless powers he’s gifted with, meals remain the same as they are when at the Sanctuary.

“We shall see you tomorrow, then.”

You nod before smiling at Emily and Timothy. “It was nice talking to you.”

As you walk towards the office, you can already hear Venable questioning what it was that you talked about, trying to determine if the two gained an edge on making it to the Sanctuary. If only she knew that they’re practically guaranteed spots, you think with a quiet laugh.

Michael arrives at the office at the same time as you do, which is odd, considering he’s meant to be inside the office conducting his interviews. He takes your hand and kisses the back of it gently before opening the doors and leading you in.

“Where were you?” you ask.

He waves a hand and the doors close behind you. “Finishing up an interview.”

“Doing a little field work?”

“Something like that. Now, I’m starving, and I would very much like to enjoy dinner with some good company.”

At first, you felt a little bad eating your favorite foods while the rest of the inhabitants were forced to eat what was left of their rations. Why should you enjoy while they suffer? And then, you met the survivors, most of whom were filthy rich, and you felt okay with it.

Now, as you sit across from Michael enjoying an actual meal, you allow yourself to pretend for a little bit that your life is still as it was before the end. That this is a regular day after classes, and you’re eating a quick meal and enjoying the company of the man you love before you’re off to finish homework, go to an activity, or just hang out with friends. You miss the simplicity that you didn’t know you had, even still after eighteen months.

“How were your interviews?” you ask, trying to bask in that normalcy for as long as you can.

“Nothing to write home about, though I did learn that Ms. Venable is…shockingly self-conscious beneath her hard exterior.”

You scoff. “And that’s surprising to you?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“I talked with Emily and Timothy,” you mention.

“Please tell me they’re not as vapid as the rest of the inhabitants of this Outpost.”

“No, they’re…actually kinda cool.”

If you’re being honest with yourself, the reason that you immediately liked them so much is because they kind of remind you of you and Michael, before the apocalypse. They’re so in love with each other, so eager to just be near one another and enjoy their presence. It brings you back to New Orleans, walking through the market arm in arm as you searched for the perfect gift for Kate and he eagerly shared what he had learned when looking up grad schools for you. What you wouldn’t give to be showing him how to catch fireflies, or enjoying a sugary treat together.

Shouting sounds from downstairs, a loud argument starting to take place and distracting you from your thoughts. While you strain to try and hear what’s being yelled about, Michael simply smirks. “Took them long enough.”

Neither of you is surprised, because this is what always happens when Michael arrives at an Outpost. He, quite literally, brings Hell with him. It’s an interesting side effect of what happens when an Antichrist inhabits your space. Those walls that people put up, the rules that they live their lives by, crumble when the living embodiment of sin walks in. From there, it’s only a matter of time until everything unravels and they begin giving in to those seven deadly sins. As you listen to wrath begin to cloud minds, you can practically see Michael becoming more powerful thanks to it.

Later, wrath continues, along with a side of lust.

High-pitched shrieking, so different from the argumentative yelling of earlier, wakes you from the dozing you had taken to while trying to read Michael’s interview reports after dinner. You scramble to sit up in your chair, looking at Michael with wide eyes.

“What was that?” you ask.

He doesn’t even tear his eyes away from the computer to look at you, simply waving a hand nonchalantly. “Oh, Timothy and Emily have just been caught having sex. They’re about to be executed.”

“What?” You stand up in alarm, sure that this is actual cause for alarm. Michael, on the other hand, doesn’t even react to your reaction. “Michael!” you snap, desperately wanting him to show some kind of humanity.

Finally, he turns around in his chair and sighs as though you’re interrupting your work, which you know for a fact you’re not. “Yes?”

“We can’t let them die.”

“We won’t.”

You look at him in disbelief, because it sure looks like he’s going to let them die. “Then why aren’t you stopping this?”

Michael finally joins you in standing, taking your hands in his and squeezing reassuringly. “It’s sweet of you to worry about them, and I promise you that they will not die before reaching the Sanctuary. I’ll stop this when the time is right. First, however,” he smiles, “I’d like to enjoy their terror for a bit.”

“Every time I think you can’t possibly let me down more than you already have, you prove me wrong.” 

Michael’s face falls at the barb that hits unexpectedly deep, but you don’t have it in you to claim any sort of victory in this. Anger, that heady emotion that’s fueled you up until now, has completely left you at this latest example of Michael’s lack of humanity. All that remains now is disappointment, and it’s a disappointment that leaves you tired. Tired of these games, tired of the life that you’ve found yourself in, tired of being able to do nothing but watch.

Except, you can do something this time. In this Outpost, you have the same amount of power as Michael. With that in mind, you pull your hands free and make for the door.

“C’mon, where are you going?” Michael calls after you.

You don’t answer him, because he knows as well as you. If he won’t put a stop to this, then you will.

///

Tag List: @thatonehumanbeing05 @xavierplympton @hecohansen31 @codycrazy @love-on-the-murder-scene @michaellangdonswhore @nsainmoonchild @aftertheglitterfades @iamlivingforturner @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @angistopit @littleangel4996 @xo-angel-ox @ajokeformur-ray @iamavailablesstuff

[itsohh]

Popstar MK1 Intros

A/N: Now I've finished off Electra Heart heres some intros set after it. This focus's on popstar reader being in costume when they come to fight + them still being in their relationship with Johnny.

Fighters: Johnny Cage, Kenshi Takahashi, Smoke, Liu Kang, Shang Tsung

Warnings: None

Intros Part 1 Electra Heart

Johnny: Oh ho-ho-ho gotta say babe that is a great look on you. I always said that the big screen never captured how truly hot I am but I think it also applies to you.

You: Eyes up here Johnathan. I'm not a doll for you to gawk at.

Johnny: Oh fuck that's hot.

-

Johnny: After this can I eat-

You: Not another word.

-

Johnny: Ooo you're so dominant in character, should wear that to bed. I might even leave a little bit on you at the end of the night.

You: Hmp.

-

You: Wait-wait-wait. Ah fuck lemme take these heel's off I can't keep fighting in costume. This was made to sing in no fight.

Johnny: Hey, hey if your feet are hurting go for it. There's no rush, I can wait. Last thing I want is you hurting.

-

Johnny: Have you written any songs about me perhaps?

You: Oh this is kind of embarrassing, but try an album.

-

Kenshi: Flashy.

You: And impractical.

-

Kenshi: When I see you like this it really makes me realize how much you and Johnny are a match made in heaven.

You: Kenshi you're literally blind.

Kenshi: I think any blind man can see how bright the sequins are on that dress.

-

Kenshi: Why the name Nightingale?

You: It's a long story.

-

Kenshi: You always say your stage self is a character you play but I've yet to hear any difference.

You: That's ‘cause that shits embarrassing off stage. I can get away with Johnny because… I mean look at him.

-

Kenshi: Johnny said you wrote an album about him. He hasn't shut up about it.

You: Yeah might have dropped the ball confessing that one.

-

Smoke: Woah I can't believe your- woah.

You: I'm surprised you're familiar with my work actually.

Smoke: Of course, it's a bit of a guilty pleasure but I loved your second album.

-

You: You know if you're ever free your welcome to tag along to one of my concerts and hit up backstage or front row whatever you prefer.

Smoke: Really?

You: Anytime! I always let my friends hang out.

-

Smoke: Your outfit is more stunning in person than I could have possibly imagined.

You: Yeah but the glitter gets everywhere.

-

Smoke: I remember your fourth album got scrapped, how come?

You: My fucking manager rejected it. Too off brand.

-

Smoke: Johnny's always talking about bad managers, have you tried talking to him about your situation.

You: ...I haven't. My manager isn't terrible but maybe I should.

-

You: The timeline you come from, was I like this?

Liu Kang: Admittedly I didn't know you very well.

-

You: Were we not friends in your timeline? Is that why titan me didn't answer your summon?

Liu Kang: You died man years prior, you were forced to come back only to see Johnny mourning his second wife.

-

You: So me and Johnny have always been together?

Liu Kang: That I don't know.

You: Am I destined to die again? So that Johnny can remarry?

Liu Kang: That is not what I have planned for you.

-

Liu Kang: In my timeline you were always in costume. You fought dressed like this all the time.

You: Fuck that. I can barely get through one fight in these shoes.

-

You: Why change up my destiny? Why not make Johnny happy with his second wife?

Liu Kang: I didn't decide on who you should love. I might have put you in the right place at the right time but that was all you.

-

Shang Tsung: Well well, this is certainly a change.

You: Don't worry, you're still the king of costumes you fucking snake.

Shang Tsung: You wound me dear.

-

Shang Tsung: It's a shame you chose to work with these imbeciles-

You: Don't even bother trying to manipulate me. I've been in Hollywood long enough.

-

You: At least I'll look good, at least I'll look good-

Shang Tsung: What are you mumbling? Don't be afraid to speak up. I don't bite- hard.

You: THESE HEELS MIGHT HURT BUT AT LEAST ILL LOOK GOOD BEATING YOUR ASS

-

Shang Tsung: It's curious the way your people worship you, for music alone…

You: You could always give it up and come a musician instead of the whole ‘murdering everyone with souls’ thing you do.

Shang Tsung: Hahaha, you truly are an entertainer aren't you?

-

You: Let's get this over and done with.

Shang Tsung: So eager to meet your demise?

You: Had a long concert today- kinda wanna go nap.

[springsteenicious]

3 for Jackie/Hyde 😊

Thanks for the ask! This gives me major season 3 vibes but I'm gonna do a post season 5 thing where Hyde actually feels bad about cheating.

3. “Tell me to leave and I’ll never bother you again.”

Jackie sat on the couch, reading Cosmopolitan magazine. She was hoping this article, How To Find The One, would be helpful in deciding between Steven and Michael. Well, not that she was ever going to choose Michael. Really, she just needed to work out her feelings. And she needed to know that Steven would never cheat on her again.

The doorbell rang. She got up to get it, but she wasn't expecting anybody. Steven stood outside on the front step. "What do you want?" she asked. This was the fourth time in two weeks that he'd come to her house.

"I'm apologizing again," he said. "I figured every time Kelso mentioned one of the girls he cheated on you with, I should come apologize for the one."

She rolled her eyes. "If this is just some stupid contest with Michael, then I don't want to hear it. I need time to think, Steven. I can't think if you're always bothering me about how you're better than Michael."

"I'm not-" He took off his sunglasses and hooked them in the front of his shirt. "I really am sorry. It's not about being better than Kelso. It's about me feeling bad that I'm an idiot and I hurt you. But if you really want, I'll leave you alone. Tell me to leave, and I'll never bother you again. But that would kinda suck, 'cause I like being around you."

Jackie sighed. She knew she was going to choose Steven in the end. She always would. But she needed some time for herself before she could be with him again. "Don't leave. I like being around you too. But I need us to be just friends for a little bit. You broke my trust. You need to earn it back, then we can be together again. Okay?"

Steven nodded. "Okay. I'll wait as long as you need me to. And apologize as much as you're willing to hear it. Because I really am sorry."

"I know. Don't ever do it again."

"I won't. I can learn from my mistake," Steven said.

"You better," Jackie said. "I really like you, it would be a shame if we had to end it all over this."

"Huge shame, considering you're the first person I've ever loved. So I promise I'll never even think about doing it again."

Jackie couldn't help but smile at the mention of him loving her. She was upset she had to wait this long to hear it, and under such awful circumstances, but it seemed like he would be saying it more now. "Drive me back to the basement?"

"Whatever you want, doll."

Jackie grinned and grabbed her purse, then got in the Camino next to Steven. She pushed away the thought of the last time she'd been in here, learning about him cheating for the first time. Instead, she turned on the radio and found a station playing ABBA, and he didn't even complain.

[mushr00mfriend]

hi!! i have a question about how you have the motivation to write? ive been trying to write my own slenderverse fic and sometimes i just find myself feeling so discouraged because the fandom isnt as active anymore, and i was wondering if youve ever felt that way and how you actively get the motivation to write?

Hello! This is a fantastic question; I'm going to preface my answer by saying that this is my own outlook/opinion as well as mindset, and that it may not work for everyone. Take what you need and leave what you don't.

(also, this got incredibly long. If there's anything I love to do, it's ramble- thus, a readmore)

For direct motivation, here's a few things I do to get in the groove:

- Chapter summaries. Write a paragraph (4-6 sentences) about what you want to see happen in a chapter. Character interactions, thematic elements, foreshadowing, plot movement, etc. Don't go over a paragraph, however, or you'll end up feeling like you've already written it without, you know, writing it. If there's something tasty, reference it rather than write it all out. You'll remember it each time you read the reference and it'll make you want to get it out in its entirety.

- Bounce around. Write some of the first chapter, some of the twentieth. Finish the sixth before the fourth. Don't feel like you have to write it in the order it's gonna be read in; you have all the power as the author to do whatever you want. If you want to write the ending before you've even got the beginning penned, do it.

- Make a list of 'delicious scenes'. These are scenes that are incredibly vivid in your mind, the ones that you really really want to see in your story. Write them down and think about them often. When you feel de-motivated, start on them. 

- In that vein, daydream about what's not being shown in a chapter, or imagine the characters in different situations. They're blorbo from your shows!! Play with them like dolls!! Make em kiss!

- Keep a project on the backburner. When I feel like I don't want to write for one project, I turn to another and work on that one for a bit instead. It keeps me from burning out entirely, but also keeps me writing, which is the most important thing.

You are correct in saying that the fandom isn't super active anymore. It was already simmering down when I had been working through the legacy draft of Delirium, and compared to the monolith it had once been, the community can seem nonexistent in this day and age. I definitely can relate to the discouragement you're feeling - I felt it all the way up until I was just under three-quarters of the way through Delirium, when there were enough consistent readers that I felt I had finally gotten somewhere, carved out my little niche of a community. Looking at the numbers now, you probably wouldn't believe that I suffered a lot with discouragement and de-motivation...

But I did, especially because I tied my self-worth and confidence in my story to how many views and comments it got. I still feel this, especially with other projects, and especially especially if they don't stack up to Delirium. If I were in the same mindset I was at the beginning, I'd even wonder if making Delusion was really a thing I should do, because there's definitely readers who won't be interested in it anymore.

But the thing is, I'm not making it for the readers. I'm making it for me. 

Delirium started out as an homage to the Creepypasta fics I read as a teen, and somewhere along the way became a way for me to vent my frustrations and trauma regarding my personal experiences with the fandom. The most important part of the story is why you're writing it- what are you trying to say? What are you trying to impart? Who are you trying to reach, and what are you trying to tell them?

You have to sit with yourself, and with the concept of the story in your head, and you have to know that you can't make it for anyone but yourself, because you are the most important part of it. You, your feelings about the setting, the characters, the themes and motifs. Your personal reflection of the situations, opinions about the arcs and plot. And yeah, not everyone will vibe with it, but making yourself palatable to everyone will make your work tasteless and unsatisfying. Even if you write for yourself, there will be other's who appreciate it. I promise. The Creepypasta community is diminished, but not gone. Take a scroll through the tags, follow a bunch of creators. There's still people drawing, people writing, and people reading. Your dash will fill up with others who still like it.

If there's one thing I can say right now, if there's one thing you take away from my words, it's that there isn't a number that will make you feel fulfilled. I promise you that the mental ceiling will only increase. You will not find a love for the story in the views, in the favourites, nor in the comments. You need to love the story first- you need to believe in it first. No one else can write the story you want to tell, and no one can write it the way you will.

I'd also say sit with it for a looooooong while. Like, figure out how it ends, find the major plot beats, bullet point the snippets you really want to see, write it halfway, sit on that for a month, then reread and edit it. Delirium is- I just checked it, over eight years in the making, including that legacy draft (which was more of a false start, if anything). You don't necessarily have to take that long- I'm just slow- but make sure you have 80% of it figured out before you go on and post it. If there's anything that kills motivation, it's internalized deadlines when you have no backlog to fall back on. Several of the months-long hiatus' between chapters were because of this. It's also the reason why Delusion isn't being published until next year.

Anyway, this got ramble-y, but I also want you to know that you got this!! I believe in you!! And if/when you ever publish it, please give me a link, I'd love to read it :]

[lovesongbracket]

Reminder: Vote based on the song, not the artist or specific recording! The tracks referenced are the original artist, aside from a few rare cases where a cover is the most widely known.

Lyrics, videos, info, and notable covers under the cut. (Spotify playlist available in pinned post)

Still Into You

Written By: Taylor York & Hayley Williams

Artist: Paramore

Released: 2013

A very upbeat and happy number off their fourth studio album, Paramore, that seems to wrap up lead singer Hayley Williams and lead singer of band What’s Eating Gilbert/New Found Glory guitarist Chad Gilbert’s relationship. Still into You is the ninth track on the album and the second to be released as a single. Still Into You peaked at No. 24 on the Billboard Hot 100, at the time the second-highest a Paramore song had ever reached. Hayley talked about its commercial success when the song was played during her hosting appearance on the Sirius XM Hits 1 Weekend Countdown: “This song, I’m so so happy that this song is getting played on the radio. It’s probably my favorite Paramore song that we’ve ever written, actually. It’s about commitment to that one person that you just fall in love with and you have to just choose and you have to work so hard to stay in love. It’s not an easy task. It’s not a walk in the park, if you will.”

[Verse 1] Can't count the years on one hand That we've been together I need the other one to hold you Make you feel, make you feel better It's not a walk in the park To love each other But when our fingers interlock Can't deny, can't deny you're worth it [Pre-Chorus] 'Cause after all this time, I'm still into you [Chorus] I should be over all the butterflies But I'm into you (I'm into you) And baby even on our worst nights I'm into you (I'm into you) Let 'em wonder how we got this far 'Cause I don't really need to wonder at all Yeah, after all this time, I'm still into you [Verse 2] Recount the night that I first met your mother And on the drive back to my house I told you that, I told you that I loved ya You felt the weight of the world Fall off your shoulder And to your favorite song We sang along to the start of forever [Pre-Chorus] And after all this time, I'm still into you [Chorus] I should be over all the butterflies But I'm into you (I'm into you) And baby, even on our worst nights I'm into you (I'm into you) Let 'em wonder how we got this far 'Cause I don't really need to wonder at all Yeah, after all this time, I'm still into you [Bridge] Well, some things just, some things just make sense And one of those is you and I (Hey) Some things just, some things just make sense And even after all this time (Hey) I'm into you Baby, not a day goes by That I'm not into you [Chorus] I should be over all the butterflies But I'm into you (I'm into you) And baby, even on our worst nights I'm into you (I'm into you) Let 'em wonder how we got this far 'Cause I don't really need to wonder at all Yeah, after all this time, I'm still into you [Outro] I'm still into you I'm still into you

Iris

Written By: John Rzeznik

Artist: The Goo Goo Dolls

Released: 1998

“Iris” was written for the 1998 film City of Angels starring Nicolas Cage. John Rzeznik explained: “When I wrote it, I was thinking about the situation of the Nicolas Cage character in the movie. This guy is completely willing to give up his own immortality, just to be able to feel something very human. And I think, ‘Wow! What an amazing thing it must be like to love someone so much that you give up everything to be with them.’ That’s a pretty heavy thought.” “Iris” eventually became one of the Goo Goo Dolls' biggest and most recognizable hits, eclipsing the movie it was written for.

[Verse 1] And I'd give up forever to touch you 'Cause I know that you feel me somehow You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be And I don't wanna go home right now [Verse 2] And all I can taste is this moment And all I can breathe is your life And sooner or later, it's over I just don't wanna miss you tonight [Chorus] And I don't want the world to see me 'Cause I don't think that they'd understand When everything's made to be broken I just want you to know who I am [Instrumental] [Verse 3] And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming Or the moment of truth in your lies When everything feels like the movies Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive [Chorus] And I don't want the world to see me 'Cause I don't think that they'd understand When everything's made to be broken I just want you to know who I am [Instrumental Break] [Chorus] And I don't want the world to see me 'Cause I don't think that they'd understand When everything's made to be broken I just want you to know who I am [Chorus] And I don't want the world to see me 'Cause I don't think that they'd understand When everything's made to be broken I just want you to know who I am [Outro] I just want you to know who I am I just want you to know who I am I just want you to know who I am

[redtoondevils]

Poppy in Poppy play time.

It's about time that I talked about something different. Today, I am going to be talking about the little doll Poppy, and give my thoughts about what I think about her, and what I think she'll do, in the fourth chapter. At first, Poppy looked like a creepy doll, that looked like to be an antagonist.

Just with her voice lines. It's in between of, I believe that she's helping us, but at the same time it looks like that she's using us. With what? At the end of chapter 2, when she took you to the train, and left you. It appeared to be 'Betrayal.' And she looked evil back at those chapters.

But, now in Chapter 3, she's appearing to be okay. Her ark, seems to be taken to another turn. She's given a bigger role with Kissy. It say's that Kissy Missy is the beacon in Poppy Playtime co.

And she seems quite friendly. But, she can still get aggressive. Even with Kissy, she seems to be a child almost. Almost innocent, and curious.

One thing I hope to say, to prevent Poppy from being evil, or being the final antagonist. 2 things actually...Is the founders.

So, I'm updating my theory to add this as further info. I was listening to the characters lines, that there's more to this evil, with evil people than this doll. Both of which, designed the monsters.

One of them designed the Prototype, and the other one designed the cat monster, Catnap. There is so much more going on. And they may be working together, their child factory is so fishy. One of the founders name is:

.Harley Sawyer.

and

.Lieth Pierre.

Harley Sawyer is the guy who created the Prototype. Lieth Pierre is the guy that created Cat Nap, or is in charge of him. And is keeping him as a wild animal, than all the other critters. And theatrically modified the red smoke into him.

I don't know much info about it, I'm just going with what I believe. And I believe, that they both are the true master minds that crafted the red smoke to trap children.

And use a cat, that most kids find cute, to lure them in, and gain their trust. That's what Catnap is used for, at the surface. That's why you see this huge play den in there, when you walk out of the cabin.

And by the sounds of it, Lieth does not care about the wellbeing of Catnap. He has a built in labyrinth for him, similar to how Dogday is being kept in, and was treating him, as if he's just as an experiment.

What makes his case unique is that Catnap has a real name Theodore. Otherwise known as 'Theo' His full name is Theodore Grambell. That name sounds friendly, for a Goblin wearing a bell. And he's kind of a pet to him. No wonder Catnap is so hostile.

Furthermore, it makes Catnap's name appeal to be a normal person's name almost. Whereas you have the other experiment names be, more like Nick name, pronunciations such as "Huggy Wuggy." "Kissy Missy." "Candy cat." ect. Than the very few that sound like offical names such as "Bron." The dinosaur, and "Poppy". The doll.

With Catnaps case, A.K.A 'Theo'. With his treatment, and role has some significant Importance with it. It has a lot of lore with him.

Which also extends the idea, with the more hostile creatures, back to "Huggy Wuggy." being treated like they are brainless monsters, this gives aother light, to how the monsters are being treated by the founders. With no good care.

They trap them, and release them to cause havoc. Like the others. They're probably getting the similar miss treatment, just differently to each monster. But all of which, not with care. Indeed abusive. With out a doubt. Especially with Poppy as well.

And here comes the second thing. With Poppy, yes her dialogues sound like, that she's up to something. But hearing it in her voice when she says that she wants to get revenge, and free everyone.

Even with that her dialogue sounds promising. I feel like maybe she shouldn't turn on us. Then on the other hand, it's like it's still in between, because she needs us.

Although, seeing the dynamic between her and Kissy. Is the reason why, I kind of don't want her to turn on us. She clearly has a concern for us. But don't make the right decisions. So, I am already reading into her as a flaw character, but don't really mean any bad intentions.

I'm believing that she is trying to help us. But, at the same time there is some skeptical feeling about her, with what she's going to do next. So far, she seems to be ok. She does have a concern for us.

And she does have a concern for Kissy, and have a deep connection to her, that I think that it would go down this road of Poppy, actually becoming the one that genuinly want's to help.

If the developers write here to do that. Which also gives me a reason, because she's been locked up. And referring back to the founders, they're likely to have treated her like that.

And it is proven, that some of the experiments are not dangerous. That, if she stays true to her word. Then the developers will have to write her, accordingly into genuinely helping to stop the Prototype. And rescue Kissy.

It is a good thing that some people are saying that, they hope to see Poppy NOT become the villain. Because of her connection with Kissy. There's something innocent about it.

And it's rare to have a doll, trustworthy in horror games. Poppy would be the very first savior, just like what Dogday said, to save the Play toy factory. Ever.

If she stays true to her word. This connection with her, and Kissy being written. It is deeper. Which helps to add on. That if her ambitions were to be evil, now changed because of this connection.

Is why I think, maybe Poppy is not evil, and not going to be used as the villain. Because so far, she's being written to find vengeance. That's what I think.

[seas1mping]

ReenaJack pt. 2

Summary: Christmas is always rough for LJ, but Reenas never celebrated it anyway. (Ft. Doll Kids)

Warnings: hurt/comfort, LJ has a mini panic attack, oc self insert (God that's so cringe righ), children??? If you don't like the idea of second generation you're wack but that's here too

Jack reached over to turn his wife's fourth alarm off—seriously, who needs that many alarms—and let his arm flop on top of her. She made a small noise before returning back to her peaceful slumber. Jack considered removing her alarms if she was just going to sleep through them all, when he was startled by her eyes looking right at him.

"You know," she started, "you don't have to turn them off yourself, I wake up on the second one just to see what you do to the third and fourth." Her cheeky smile ended her confession, the sleep in her voice still poking through, so obviously she lied about 'waking up on the second.'

His eye twitched. She wants to play a game so early in the morning? "Well obviously I'm going to turn them off, Lord knows you need the beauty rest." Reena gasped at him, grabbing the pillow under his head and raising it to hit him. "Sugar, you know I'm kidding! I would never say anything against you!"

Though, with the lack of an effort to defend himself, Reena still manages to snag him once with the pillow, hearing the rip of the fabric and pulling it away from him to see the stuffing on his sharp nose. "I know. I just wanted to do that." She sticks her tongue out before throwing the covers off and getting out of bed.

Reena sits at her vanity for a moment, Jack can see her staring at herself. Her brow creases as she itches at one of the scars on her shoulder. She grabs her hair brush and gets rid of her bedhead.

"So, Jack," this is never good, "I was wondering if you wanted to take the kids out to that Christmas thing out in the city. I think Molly said it was a parade? I don't know, sometimes it's so hard to tell with her accent if I say things right." Reena mumbles to herself, trying to find a good point between her hair and her bangs to put her horns.

It's not that Jack doesn't like Christmas, or that he doesn't want to spend time with the dolls—he hangs out with most of them constantly anyway—its the fact of what Christmas feels like to him.

A reminder that he failed the one duty he had because some idiot got the wrong hobby.

"Babe, are you seriously moping right now? This has to be a record for you."

He snapped out of his thoughts and looked at Reena, who was standing over him at this point talking in his face. "Hellooooo earth to Carny down there!"

She pulls him up from his warm spot, tossing him a shirt she got him. "I'm coming with you, I know how bad these holidays are for you. All it takes is one sentence and we can celebrate my people's version of Christmas."

"You don't even know what Christmas is." He scoffs, pulling on pants and clicking his suspenders on. Reena pouts at him, putting her earrings in.

"I do too know what it is! It's the day that you guys get together and show off how much money you have based on the number of gifts you buy each person!" She smiles. Reena was from Down Below, which is what normal people would consider 'Hell' due to its hotter temperatures and devolved society. Some of this world's historical aspects still seem to illude her, such as religion or certain human concepts (and also birds for some reason??)

Jack shakes his head with a smile that he quickly wipes off. "Sure, sugar, we'll go with that."

———

"WOAH!!! This place is HUGE!"

Reena laughs as her oldest son looks around at all the people lined across the busy intersection. They made sure to get a good spot in the middle so that they didn't have to disguise themselves too much. Reena and Jack stood behind their three little boys, Roman, Seth, and Randy, all on leashes, and scanned the area.

Roman was fascinated at the crowds that had formed, and the fact that everything in the real world was so LARGE. Roman was usually in the carnival helping Nari and the other dolls, so he wasn't out too much.

Seth had his headphones on, he clung to the front of Jack's pants quietly, he knew everything was going to be huge, but he didn't think it would be so loud.

Randy, the youngest and still wobbling around, kept yelling at everything. A bug on the ground? Randy has to get down and talk to it. A random dime? Randy has to pick it up and try to eat it. A piece of candy? Okay, that one came from Jack but Randy has to eat it, too.

Suddenly, the loud horn of the firetruck blared through the air, signaling the start of the parade. Roman and Seth were lifted to Jack's shoulders, where they balanced on his shoulder and hands, and Randy was less interested in the parade as he was trying to tangle Reena in his leash, in between mimicking the horns and sirens.

Reena looked at her husband, but it was very evident he wasn't having a good time. Not when everything reminded him of everything. The presents, the boxes, the fake snow, the gifts and candy being thrown at children.

The joy on the faces of all the kids when they get their prizes.

Jack looks back at Reena, with a strange softness, and whispers, "Please."

———

The bakery they stopped at wasn't completely empty, but it was good enough they could find a secluded booth for them all to sit at, the boys doodling on some kids menus they were handed before the waiter left.

"I'm fine, can we just go home?" He had been saying that since they left the immediate parade area. He blamed the boys, saying that Seth didn't like the parade and he didn't want to make him upset. Or that Randy was going to get tripped over and hurt. Or that Reena looked tired anyway and they should have left sooner.

"No, Jack, you're not fine, and I'm not going to let you pretend you are, I need to know what's going on so I can help you. I just want to help you, love." She goes to take the hand she can see shivering, but he flinches and pulls his hand away. He won't look at her, he's focusing on the table, focus on the table so you don't get pulled away from it all, focus, focus, focus—

"Hey, want to do something cool?" She taps him, and then points out the window. "Name me 5 things you see."

He rolls his eyes and looks at her, still shaking and unsteady. "I'm not doing this, Reena. I'm fine."

"Fine then. Three things, the boys don't count."

He huffs and goes back to looking out the window. "I see the cars driving down the road. I see the reflection of your purse in the window, and I see a billboard for Molly's jewelry." she hums, digging into her purse for something.

"Alright," there's a pop of some kind, "name me two things that you feel." His claws rub against the table, feeling the grain in the wood catch his claws sometimes.

"I feel the table. I feel my clothes." A snap, and another pop.

"Good job. Now name me one thing you taste."

"Reena, I don't taste anythi-"

As he goes to face her, she smashes her lips to him, kissing him like she's been wanting to do it all day, and making sure the grape scent and flavor of her lip gloss gets all over him. When she is happy with herself, she pulls away, sneaking one last peck and smiling at him. "Now, what's one thing you taste?"

He licks his lower lip, smiling slightly, his cheeks obviously darkened. He knows the boys are protesting this DISGUSTING display of affection in public nonetheless. But he leans into his wife, who's redder than he is.

"I taste that new lip gloss I got for you a while ago. Always wondered where you put it."

She giggles, pushing him back and leaning on his arm. "I was waiting to surprise you with it, thought it would be a funny thing. Never knew it would be used as a grounding technique."

Jack nods in defeat, she's won this battle, but there's definitely more to come.

[aquilacalvitium]

A bunch of thoughts that are incomprehensible to people who aren't Cirque Du Soleil fans

Target and Nico have the same energy and would almost definitely be friends

Someone please introduce Aviator from Quidam and Aviator from Kurios to each other, they'd be besties

Klara moves like a clockwork doll and it's mesmerising to watch

You can see Time Master's effects on the flow of time by watching Klara and Microcosmos in the background

This meme I made

I think Gongli (chair balancer from Koozã) would be Carlos' (chair balancer from Kurios) plus one at Klara's dinner parties

Volta's ending is a tad abrupt methinks

Ela is just awesome, everything about her is awesome, I want to be friends with her

Is that other person with blue feathers in Volta another character? Or is he still Waz? It's a bit ambiguous and I'm not good at subtext

Quidam (the character) somehow manages to be somewhat intimidating while also having very strong "safe person" energy

The Seeker suddenly gains two assistants in Creature De Siam that have not existed at all up to this point

They always turn even the singers into characters in the shows and I love that so much

They always manage to do something with the stage itself, from traps doors to a revolving platform to prop tracks and sometimes more than one of the above

I tried learning French so I can understand the characters but it is an evil language and putting myself through that would count as self-torture /j

The wiki refers to the train at the beginning of Kurios as Mister Microcosmos' outfit but he is standing elsewhere on stage when the train comes in so I actually have no idea who that is

Time Master doesn't get enough appreciation, I get that he isn't as merchandise-able as Klara and Nico and Mister Microcosmos but his act, aside from Chaos Troupe 1900, is definitely my favourite

Also the track for his act is not on the ost and that is a crime

Neither is the track that plays between 11h11 and Bella Donna Twist or the track that pays right before Hypnotique

And for some reason Departure is half of the track for Hand Theatre and then suddenly goes into the track before Dangerous Flight? I'm a bit confused there

I've started assigning names to character who don't have names or who's names I can't find anywhere

I refer to them by their actor's names like Carlos and Gongli

If they're a group or I can't find the actor's names I make something up I.e. I refer to the banquine performers in Kurios as The Beachgoers because I mean look at them it's a fitting name

WHY DID THEY RETIRE MICHAEL FROM KOOZÄ HE'S MY FAVOURITE CLOWN IN THE SHOW I WILL FOREVER BE UPSET ABOUT THIS

Also I can't find a single good quality picture of Michael in his grotesque-whiteface-esque costume that he wears for the whole show apart from during his pickpocket routine which is weird

I kinda can't stop staring at Klara or Nico any time they're on stage because their individual styles of body language are just fascinating

How does Quidam (the show) have such specific energy? I can't think of a better word than ethereal. Like it's unsettling but also feels safe and familiar somehow? Idk but I love it

WHY isn't Bella Donna present for the finale? That woman carried so much of Bella Donna Twist and then dips??? Give that woman the standing ovation she deserves!!!

The Quid Pro Quo/Mr Wow Show scene has probably more dialogue than the entirety of most of Cirque Du Soleil shows I've seen

Waz's outfit on Quid Pro Quo is. Something. I really want to know how that was made and what materials were used - this is coming from a guy with ZERO interest in textiles

Actually all of the outfits in Volta are crazy, even the Grays have interesting stuff going on, major props to the costume department

The fourth wall may or may not exist at any given point in time and it's fun to look for it

Especially when there are characters who thrive of off breaking the fourth wall (all clowns) vs characters who never once break the fourth wall (I.e. The Innocent or Ela or the Curios)

I DID NOT MEAN TO HIT POST THAT WAS AN ACCIDENT

I guess if I have any more thoughts I'll just come back and edit this post

[vulpinesaint]

camelia + papyrus + taro <3 mwah

camellia ⇢ what were you like when you were younger? do you think you’ve changed a lot?

man honestly i think i was just a smaller version of myself when i was younger haha. when i think of myself as a kid i think of how judgemental i was in my head... truly starting the haterism young. you know me and you have met my mother and if i tell you that i was raised that way it probably makes sense haha :) forever thought i was doing SUCH a good job of being subtle about disliking people but someone in middle school casually mentioned "yeah, you hated me in elementary school" so. just as with now. very good at being a hater not very good at hiding it. sorry nick you were actually the cool one of that group of boys but i thought your friends sucked so bad 👍

DEFINITELY a little superiority complex. my mom raised me to be confident in my abilities and has never been shy about saying that she thinks i'm better than my peers 😭 voracious reader, insane little reading level, very opinionated and sure of himself. developed the opposite problem though where i came to the conclusion that people would not like me if i was succeeding where they were not and that nobody would want to be my friend if i told them i got 100% on a test so i kind of. stopped talking about my academic achievements to people. currently working very hard on being able to just say "i did this and i'm proud of it!" to people cause i feel like i'm being an asshole and bragging every time 😭 i have this foundational memory of using a big word in like. fourth grade maybe. and having sam mullen Stare at me like i'd grown another head. and deciding that i needed to dumb down my vocab a little bit when i was talking to people that were not my parents lol

lots of whimsy alongside the haterism though! believed in fairies for sure, played the hell out of imagination games. really liked peter pan and alice in wonderland. favorite computer game was that little pixie hollow game that loaded slow as hell. loved reading fantasy stories. would wrestle my brothers to the ground and pin them there to win arguments and assert dominance. had monster high and ever after high dolls :) draculaura was my favorite obviously (dressed up as her for halloween once) but i always knew in my heart that i was more of a frankie stein whether i liked it or not... thought raven queen was cool obviously.

all the time i'm going "man it doesn't even matter but i'm not a good trans person i was such a girly girl" but this is like. untrue. my mother put me in dresses throughout most of my elementary school career cause she really wanted to make sure that me and my siblings were presentable so i certainly Seemed girly. i liked dressing up. but i also went to kindergarten and i remember staring so hard at this girl named hannah who was a tomboy while i was in the sandbox or whatever. and i decided in my head that i Was a tomboy. like i wore dresses but that wasn't what mattered... i had other things going on that made me a tomboy... and i told my mom that and she laughed and it broke my heart a little bit so i said Nothing about anything like that again until i came out as transgender in high school 😭 in middle school i remember thinking that i kind of wanted to dress like a boy except i Couldn't. not because it wasn't allowed but because it was Ugly. genuinely stopped myself from being a boy because i hated the thought of khaki cargo shorts so much. all of which is to say that i think i am just the same as i was when i was a kid haha :D

papyrus ⇢ if you put your ‘on repeat’ playlist on shuffle, what’s the first song that comes up? what do you like about it / associate it with?

so american by olivia rodrigo. you have done ruinous things to my reputation by making me like this song so much... someone looked over at my phone once and went "you're listening to olivia rodrigo?" how am i supposed to keep my cool alt boy façade up if i am forever so delighted and bashful and giddy and enamoured with the fact that i am the boy who is like a poem you wish you wrote. to me seeing you post so american by olivia rodrigo is like when you see me post poems that you know are about you... in my head forever. nobody ever talks about the feeling of hearing what someone else's love song is For You

taro ⇢ if someone called you right now to catch up, what’re the things you’d tell them about?

what a silly question to ask me when you know damn well from experience that it's venom all the way down haha. would tell them about school i guess! told annelise today about my professor who married a republican that i hate and about my friend who got pronouns over the summer! but then uh. that's the friend who works at a comics store. who is getting me venom comics. and then we're sitting in a park with cheesecake having a lovely picnic and i am vividly narrating the last fifteen issues of the venom run i'm on and talking about the differences between the comics and the movies when you have seen Neither of them yet 👍 i am a simple man. i have literally nothing fucking else in my head right now 😭

 ﹟random get-to-know-me ask game  !! 

[pickledpascal]

Bewitched

Chapter Two: Season of the Witch

Warnings: big ass beau arlen whump near the end, mentions of murder, dark themes (?) it's for shits and giggles, sex humor, mentions of sex.

Word Count: 2.8k

Bewitched Masterlist

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Being called out to suburbia was the last thing Beau wanted to do. However, duty calls. That double homicide rolled into a serial killer. The Neighborhood Killer was what his deputies started calling him. Not a good name but not bad either—whoever the killer was certainly liked making a mess in neighborhoods.

Since the case had the highest priority, that meant Beau had to check out the crime scene with Poppernack and Jenny. The scene was bloody, a mom and dad massacred while their teenage child was out. Lucky for them. 

Taking it upon himself, Beau wanted to talk to a few neighbors just to see if they could fill in any gaps, and give a few leads. He and Jenny made their way to the third house that evening. He knocked on the door. Beau could tell it was painted over in black. In fact, the whole house was dark—deep blue shutters, dark gray siding, black roofing, and a carob mat that had something on it in a language he couldn't read. 

The door was opened to reveal Kiera. Beau’s eyes widened at the sight of her. For the past week, Kiera had been slowly opening up to Beau but not enough for her to tell him where she lived. He didn't mind. Except this was one hell of a way to figure that out. Her eyes narrowed at the blonde woman next to Beau as she closed the door slightly. 

“Hello, I'm Deputy Jenny Hoyt with the Lewis and Clark County Sheriff's department and this is—” Jenny started.

“I know.” Kiera cut her off, staring at Jenny. 

Beau coughed to grab her attention. “Do you mind if we come in?” He asked politely. 

Kiera pursed her lips and then sighed. She stepped away from the door to let the pair inside. 

As soon as Beau stepped inside he was hit with a smell he could only describe as expensive. Kiera’s home matched her well. There were black satin drapes on the windows, mismatched rugs on deep wooden floors, homemade tapestries and vintage pin-up posters hung on walls, and quite a few old but restored floor-length candelabras that were tucked into the corner of rooms. 

Kiera led them into the living room where a plush black sectional sat with a brown and white quilt draped over the side. And a child played in the middle of the room. She wore the complete opposite color palette of her mother—a pink-knit sweater and light-washed jeans. 

That must have been Dalia. Beau knew of her after his fourth visit to the café. “Should she be here for this?” He asked softly as he and Jenny sat.

Kiera shook her head. “She'll be fine.”

Jenny stared at them, a little confused at their interactions. She'd never seen Beau and this woman together. She knew of Kiera. Everyone did. She was the only person who wore all black every single day for miles. She also knew of the urban legends that seem to sprout because of it. About how Kiera was secretly Satan or something of that nature who wanted to get revenge on the white man for what they did to her people and that Dalia was the antichrist because she had this way of speaking that did not sound at all like a seven-year-old should sound. Kiera and Dalia had only lived in Helena for a few years. A few long years.

Jenny knew not to trust what other people said because it could be completely untrue but it was hard considering the toys Dalia was playing with. A few wooden dolls which, in itself, wasn't too crazy but it was how they were decorated that unsettled her. One looked to be a direct replica of Kiera—dark clothes, long hair with a quarter of it blonde—another looked similar to Beau with an outfit she was sure to have seen him in before, and one with completely blonde hair and a blue jacket—Jenny. 

“Okay, uh,” Jenny shifted her eyes from Dalia and landed on Kiera. “There's a killer on the loose, murdered a few of your neighbors. Keith and Julia. Can you tell us about anyone who may want to hurt them?” 

Kiera shrugged. “Not really. Me and my neighbors don't really… go together.” She admitted with a sigh.

Beau glanced over at Dalia who seemed to be paying more attention to the black and brown-haired dolls while the blonde one sat untouched. He looked at Kiera. “Why’s that?”

Kiera’s jaw clenched as she looked between the two officers. “Have you looked at me?” Oh, yes, he had. “Correct me if I'm wrong but I'm a Native woman in an all-white neighborhood who has a daughter that creeps everyone out. My relationship with my neighbors ain’t exactly gonna be pretty.” 

Beau cocked an eyebrow before he took another look at Dalia. She seemed fine to him. “What kind of lawyer are you?” Kiera’s eyebrows furrowed. Why did he need to know that? “Just for my own curiosity.”

“I do civil suits, mostly.” Kiera responded. 

Something inside Beau calmed. Kiera wouldn't be involved in criminal cases. Hopefully safe. Kiera didn't fit the Neighborhood Killer’s M.O. anyway—a nuclear family with a mom and dad, a kid or two. Jenny looked at him weirdly. He knew why. It had nothing to do with the case, it had everything to do with easing his peace of mind. 

Dalia appeared next to Kiera who promptly lifted her onto the couch. “Your case is cold because you're looking in the wrong spots. The children are always left alive, aren't they? That has to be on purpose.” 

Beau blinked in astonishment. Dalia’s voice was small and monotone and spoke a lot more complicated words than he would've thought would come out of a seven-year-old mouth. He looked at Kiera, confused. 

“Dalia has a knack for knowing things.” Kiera explained with a shrug. 

“She says it's because I have autism. Which means she has it too.” Dalia said matter-of-factly. 

Beau shook his head slightly, feeling whiplashed. The questioning died down after that with Jenny making a beeline for the door. She looked uncomfortable in the house. Like something, or someone, was weighing her down.

As Kiera walked Beau to the door, he turned back to her. “You got yourself an interesting child, huh?” He teased softly.

Kiera leaned against the door frame, giving Beau an unimpressed look. “If this is your way of trying to say I need to put Dalia in a mental hospital, it's not gonna work.” She crossed her arms. 

“No, not at all. She's cute.” Beau smiled. Her personality seemed to have been switched with what one would assume was Kiera's—cold, hard, creepy, and a little too interested in the supernatural. “Dressed in all pink and saying weird shit, really weeds out the bad guys huh?” 

“Usually,” Kiera had a confused look on her face as she stared at Beau. “If anything, she might've gotten the antichrist thing from her mother.” Beau could tell she wasn't referring to herself. He thought she was single. The question must've been on his face because she continued. “I didn't birth Dalia. She's mine but… not in that way, I guess.” 

Beau cocked his head, not exactly catching on. “Not in what way?”

“When a boy and a girl love each other very much…” Kiera joked softly. He still didn't seem to get it. “Beau, I have a dick. I'm not the one who got pregnant.” 

Beau's eyes lit up with recognition before he nodded. “Right, yeah.” He snapped his fingers. Then it set in a little. Kiera was transgender. Among all the other things that made up her identity. “So why's she with you?” He asked softly.

Again, Kiera seemed a little surprised that Beau had not run off yet. “Not completely sure. I fucked around when I was younger. I'm not sure who her mother is, Dalia just kinda showed up on my doorstep like in the fucking movies and she became a part of my life. She's mine. I can say that for sure.” She explained with a wave of her hands. 

Dalia scampered over, taking her place next to Kiera. “Can I make potions in the backyard?” She asked as she looked up at her mother. 

“Yes, sweetie. But be careful.” Kiera warned softly, squeezing her arm. “If you make another potion with fire, Missy’s gonna call the cops.” 

A crease formed between Beau's eyebrows. Missy must've been a neighbor but he was more concerned about the fire.

“I won't, mama. I'm gonna make a love potion.” Dalia said excitedly, holding the doll that looked a lot like Beau. He chose not to dwell on it. She ran off into the house. 

Kiera watched her before her gaze shifted back to Beau. “She's more social than usual,” Her eyes narrowed at the sheriff. “Must be something in the air.”

Beau shrugged and stood there awkwardly since they didn't have much else to talk about. He wanted the moment to last a little longer though. He had to say something. Anything. His eyes shifted down Kiera’s body. The shirt she wore was long-sleeved but had a deep neckline which showed off her cleavage and her black pants were belted tightly in a way that showed off her waist. What about her clothes? He could make a comment on that. 

“You're—uh—you work from home?” Beau’s brain short-circuited. 

Kiera cocked a pierced eyebrow at him. “No. Today's a weekend, I have those off.” 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, I remember you told me.” Beau smacked the side of his head and gave her a lop-sided smile. 

Kiera creaked the door closed and stepped outside with Beau. “Look, I know where this is going.” She admitted softly and Beau swore his heart stopped. He didn't want to be let down by Kiera and he'd beg for another chance if that was the case. “But I'm not going to fulfill whatever fantasy is in your head. I have a kid to think about and I'd rather be single and alone than in a relationship with someone who just wants me for some sort of fetish.” 

“Wait, what?” That had never even crossed Beau's mind. “Not until a minute ago did I know, or even care to know, what was in your pants.” He argued softly. “I feel,” He took a deep breath, “For the first time in a while that I like someone. You're beautiful, smart, an excellent mother by the looks of it, you're incredibly funny, and—shit—I don't know, the first time I looked at you, I felt light. Like a feather.”

Kiera stared at Beau, pursing her lips. He could see the cogs turning behind her black eyes. “You mean that, don't you?” 

“God can strike me down if I don't.” Beau said with a breath. 

Kiera glanced up at the sky and tilted her head a little at Beau. “Guess that means you do,” She bit on the inside of her cheek. “Alright, cowboy, I'll grant you a date.” 

Beau swore he could float in the clouds. “Yeah, that’s—okay!” He wanted to celebrate but he refrained. “I'll, um,” He coughed, trying to gather his thoughts. He was over the moon and Kiera could tell. “Tomorrow, it's Sunday, we're both off?” She nodded. “Awesome! I'll pick you up at six, head over to my trailer, I'll grill something—I’m not too good at cooking but I make an awesome steak,” Kiera pursed her lips. Did she not like steak? “Or, uh, whatever else is your speed?” He suggested shyly.

“I'm joking,” Kiera waved him off with a smile. “A steak sounds nice.” She said warmly.

Beau drew in a breath. Since knowing Kiera, her tone had always been clipped or to the point with him, not warm. He had to resist the urge to kiss her. He had a feeling that was her more natural voice and he couldn't stop himself from falling in love with it. Or her.

“You scored a date? Finally!” Emily screamed over the phone later that night. Beau had figured out how to FaceTime her after deciding he'd love to see her reaction to the news. “Please, you have to take pictures of her. I need to know what she looks like. She sounds so cool!” 

Beau chuckled as he put his feet up on the green cooler in front of him. Yet again, he was on his homemade porch surrounded by warm light, the stars, and the forest. “I will, kiddo, but I haven't exactly had the chance yet.” 

“I need to know.” Emily practically begged. “Especially if I'm gonna be calling her step-mom soon.” She teased.

Beau's eyes widened. “Woah there, Em. It's one date,” He had to remind himself of that fact too. “And she's… still guarded. It's better but not by much.”

Emily nodded then pursed her lips as she set her elbows on her desk. “Just keep being you, Dad. I can tell she likes you, just by the way you talk about her. She's just… scared I guess. As the child of a single mom—and dad—I think I’d understand how hard it is to let someone in your life when you have a child. But, again, there is the whole you're a cop thing.” She explained. 

“God, you're wise. It definitely don't come from me.” Beau chuckled. He liked having Emily, talking to her made him open his eyes sometimes. Simultaneously, he could forget about the world. 

Emily shook her head, a smile on her face. “I think so. You got the cowboy wisdom,” She teased. “Like you feel a change in the air in your knees.” 

Beau laughed quietly, rolling his eyes. “You were born in Texas too, why don't you have that?” He argued.

“I'm sixteen. I'll probably get that once I hit thirty.” Emily winked. 

Beau smiled and then looked down at his lap. He hoped he'd see Emily hit that milestone. Hell, he hoped he'd see Emily hit every milestone. Her twenties, her first day of college, her last, her thirties, her first big girl job. He wanted to be there for her. A part of him was glad she was there for him.

“I know that look,” Emily interjected his thoughts, voice softer. “I’m still young, Dad. And we have all the time in the world.” Beau nodded in acknowledgment. He knew that yet, at the same time, it felt like the days were passing him by. “I hope Kiera helps you slow down. Your brain is moving way too fast.”

Beau sighed, shaking his head. “Can't help it, kiddo. That's just who I am.” 

“A restless man?” Emily bit her lip, jaw clenched softly. She knew her father liked to bury himself in work. Even if the work was slow. It was part of the reason he stayed in Helena, there were too many ghosts in Houston and he had to run away. 

Beau shrugged. “Yeah.” He wasn't always like that. 

Emily could remember a time when he came home and there was a bright light in his eyes, where he took his time. The light was still there, just dimmed for a while. Until Beau met Kiera. That light was reignited and Emily couldn't be happier for him. He just needed a few pushes here and there. Her father was a hopeless romantic so he didn't need too much help. But Beau was also hard on himself. He didn't want to mess up. 

“You’re not. At least, not really.” Emily argued softly. “You need a place to put your cowboy boots.”

Beau rubbed his forehead. He needed to hear that even if his first instinct was to argue back. “I'll talk to you tomorrow.” He sighed.

“Okay.” Emily mumbled. She could tell she hit a nerve. 

“Love you, g'night.” Beau waved.

Emily nodded, lips forming a thin line. “Love you too. Night.”

Beau's screen went black as he took a deep breath. He didn't want to talk about his life in Houston with Emily and he had a nagging feeling he messed up by ignoring it. Yet again. 

Beau pushed a hand through his hair as he pocketed his phone and strolled his way inside his trailer. There were books about being a father and he'd read them when Carla first got pregnant but they never prepared him for this. The overwhelming guilt of feeling like he had failed his daughter. He yearned to be open with Emily but he didn't want her to worry about him. He was a grown man, her father, it was his job to protect her. It seemed he failed in that department anyway. 

Kiera: sleep well, beau. i look forward to seeing you tomorrow. 

His phone buzzed on the counter in front of him. Beau tapped on the screen. The simple message sent a shiver down his spine. 

Maybe Emily was right. Kiera would teach him how to slow down the restless man he thought he was. 

-----

taglist: @deans-spinster-witch

taglist open here !!!!

[ariapmdeol]

8:11 anon here again. Wow. W o w. Brain empty but just. Wow.

Went through all the endings and then had to go back to Arrival Point S to cope with all the other ones. And, as expected, the first ending and S destroyed me. Cried at least two times. My god. It's been a while since media made me cry, and I certainly didn't expect to get so emotionally invested in CoE.

However! I have questions!! Spoiler-y ones? If you don't mind, of course. Sorry if it's a lot?? I'm definitely going to re-watch everything again to connect whatever is left.

First off: is there a "canon" ending? Surely S is what everyone wishes to be canon (although E is pretty good too, in its own way, definitely wouldn't want it to be canon, though) but is there a defined one by the developers? Actually, what even is the first ending gotten before S?

Second: what triggers change the endings? I figure that for deaths it's mostly a matter of wasting time, which is really neat and genuinely puts urgency into the situation.

Connected to that, what's the blue-colored person speaking at the end of most endings? The one who "guides" the player on what they missed to try again?

Third: honestly what (and who) the hell is Kanou. Man shows up as quickly as he dies, reappears in like two endings, commits suicide in both. Is he just the local cryptid? A doll? There's something going on with him, between the Told You So death, the text about murdering coworkers at a previous lab, and his corpse disappearing (and, in specific endings, showing up as...human? Dialogue specifies that)

Fourth: you mention the DLC, but also Hermits Room and Interlude, however I don't see them in the playlist? Do they have to be played specifically as there's no uploads?

Fifth: wow Utsugi is so incredibly fruity. My god that guy is gay, good for him, good for him. That's not a question just need to state it. Also Sanemitsu being emotionally not there ever and Atou threatening him every five seconds. Peak dynamic, love them all so much. Shinano being happy. S ending my beloved

Sixth: I heard something about a...cipher? An art book cipher? Or an ARG? Idk but if you're willing to explain.

That's...it? Surely I have more questions but these are the main ones I can think of now. Again, sorry if this is a lot???

And!! Enjoy 8:11 whenever you get the time for it!! It was so fun to play and mind-boggling.

CONGRATS ON FINISHING AAAA!! i'll answer all these in order!! let me know if you need clarification on anything <3

Yes, there is a 'Canon' Ending'. S+ is considered the canonical ending! This actually answers the other part of this question: the Ch 8 Arrival point S goes through S (Future), which directly leads into S+ (Empyrean Point). The two endings are connected, and S needs to happen in order to achieve S+! OH ALSO. THERE ARE POST-S CHANGES, which i will put under the cut bc I have collected them <3 These technically happen in S+, but we don't see them bc we only check back in when Atou is in ch 8 already. The DLC (Records of Sanemitsu Isoi) takes place almost exactly 3 years after S+. (These are shown in the playlist after the Ch 4, 6, and 7 extras <3).

ENDING FLAGS: Fun bonus fact: the purple text will tell you what you missed, and this changes based on what you did wrong! S Root: get all the info, don't let anyone die. A Root: keep everyone alive but don't get all the info. Ensure that you have charged Shinano's Phone B Root: everyone alive but Shinano's phone was not charged or unlocked. C Root: Succeed in saving Yanagi. Fail in Saving Karen D Root: Succeed in Saving Karen. Fail in saving Yanagi E Root: EVERYONE DIES!! YIPPEEE Mx. Purple Text is something that you'll learn about in the DLC, so I'll RAFO you for now (Read and find out). It is purple specifically! (though i also made that interpeted it as blue at first sdajkldsjkal)

Kanou Flag: in Chapter Four, you can read Yuusuke Aiba's Journal without Kanou (this is shown in the extras for chapter 4). This starts the kanou flag. This is what triggers a couple of small changes surrounding Kanou (the quick flash of him in ch 6 comes to mind) and grants access to the kanou elevator scene. TLDR Kanou was infected with cells, which let him live a little longer, but not enough to grant abilities. They talk about dying as a 'human' because if he lives longer, his cells will morb and he'll become a doll or a creature. He also gives us a Note that says something like 'live for me'. This note gives us a buff during the origin beta boss fight (his "curse" protects atou <3)

The first Five records of the DLC (+ the intro) are in the playlist! for anything beyond that point, contact me here, on discord (@ ariapmdeol), or on twitter (@ AriaPMDEoL ) and I'll help you!

UTSUGI FOREVERRR HE'S SO. he makes me so emotional i love you noriyuki utsugi. Sanemitsu my darling my beloved he is trying but he also sucks so much <333 i love him. The Reiji-Sanemitsu-Haruki family means so much to me. they make me emotional UEEEE. S and S+ make me explode,,

YES there are ciphers!! there's an official artbook for COE (which unfortunately isn't being sold right now orz orz) Which has a few ciphers in it! The one that i was looking at is HORRIFICALLY warped (i genuinely don't think we were actually meant to solve it LMAO) but I solved it and a friend was kind enough to translate it for us! There is also a Cipher in DLC, and a few others in the DLC 2020 credits! I have solutions to all of those as well. It's less 'ARG' and more "here's some information hidden behind a cipher." They're not REQUIRED reading but they help a lot with theorizing, and I've been finding it to be a lot of fun :D

I CANNOT WAIT TO PLAY 8:11 I AM VERY EXCITED HEHEHE

OK POST S CHANGES ( you'll have seen one of these before). These are sorted by chapter. DON'T WORRY IF THESE DON'T MAKE SENSE TO YOU YET.

CHAPTER 1.

"You want to forget the rat without a head" has been changed from Red to Purple.

CHAPTER 4.

There is an Item on the floor in chapter 4 (the room that you have to walk through in order to get to Aiba's journal) which reads "Zero Does not Exist".

Chapter 6:

This document has been replaced, the first time you look at it, by a document by CODE:DANTE. This one is a little long so you can DM me and I'll grab it for you!

Chapter 7:

ok so. this is shown in A root but it's not an A root thing, it's a Post S root thing (it's because of how the YT translator got their endings, dw abt it). All mentions of Seodore Riddle have been removed

This text has changed (both in normal vision and in Vision shift. it reads:[normal vision text] 'This is not the start of a nightmare but the end of a peaceful dream' and 'but what will you see when you wake' is added post S. [purple text] 'Aare you enjoying this divine comedy?' with 'i'm glad, you've enjoyed the love of god' added post S.

^this section was translated by tumblr user hermitroom!

[romilly-jay]

You're at it again... you're running the game - I'm not going to play second fiddle to that...

[An unexpected return /again, again/ to Guys & Dolls at the Bridge theatre]

**Spoilers? Yes, very much so, 100%, thanks for checking!!**

I've been to see this production four times, now. Different people each time. Definitely thought that was probably enough. BUT...

I guess I should be pleased because when I saw it two-times-ago, back in ?June? it struck me how much better the relationship ethic is, in this musical, compared to, say, another childhood favourite, Kiss Me Kate, which was, at that time, playing at the Barbican.

Admittedly, KMK is a deft reworking of a gangster-ish story about the troubled skeleton of The Taming of the Shrew so it's got heritage working against it - and fair play to the production, several attempts were made to edge away from the MOST EGREGIOUS sexism.

BUT Guys and Dolls - honestly think the most problematic song (assuming we can accept that sexwork is legitimate work and so, therefore, by extension, is working in a strip joint) is the one near the end where the two women 'plot' to marry their guys and THEN try to mould them into the people they would prefer them to be. I'm not a fan of this sentiment particularly and I don't think the song is the best in the show by quite some distance - guess we could frame it as two beleaguered women exorcising some emotion by trash talking?

Everything else? Chef's kiss. I <3 that Sky and Sarah are *both* wrong about how they'll fall in love - she falls, against her better judgement, for a gambler while he doesn't fall in love until he's spent a day with her and not At First Sight as he'd claimed he would.

I love that they refuse the stOOpid romcom trope of "here's something I should obviously tell the other person but for inexplicable reasons, don't and then it causes a world of pain".

They go to Havana - by the end of the rather chaotic evening there, both of them are falling in love - and his next move is to confess that he took her there to win a bet. That's really important - and equally important, this is NOT the deal breaker. She's not even noticeably surprised (she's probably still a little drunk, but the point holds).

Also, quite important that, after the first drink, he's trying to hold her back, not urge her on - this is NOT a daterape story! - and when she comes onto him, he's the one who backs out of the scenario, thinking no doubt about her mission doll commitments but also knowing that she's not sober and that's definitely somewhat his fault.

Now, before we went to the show - for my fourth time, so help me - we watched the film version. Sort of like doing our "plot revision"...

I remembered that Brando and Sinatra were in it - and I was super keen on Jean Simmons as Sister Sarah Brown - so, yep, remembered here. Didn't remember Vivian Blaine but I see that's on me for my lack of period-relevant showbiz knowledge. (Wiki insider tells me that she was a big Broadway star and originated Miss Adelaide in the original 1950 stage show, being the only main cast member who transferred into the film version in 1955. BTW she was, what, 34? I'm used to thinking of ND/MA as the "older couple" and sure, yes, but also...)

Here's the thing - the film makes several changes to the musical and, okay, personal view, but I don't think a single one of them makes it "better". What they actually do is roller over my favourite moments of character vulnerability and replace it with - I'm guessing - star ego.

Sky doesn't confess his love first - arguably, he doesn't actually confess it at all, but rather Sarah tells him that she's figured him out. How unsatisfactory *sigh*. He never tells her his real name - we are left to assume it is indeed Sky - and he doesn't join the mission (Nicely Nicely, does, instead) though I'm less perturbed about that. Just feel like his character isn't allowed to find his way 'home' in the same way - seems like a bit of a shame... Meanwhile, I get, fully get, that Hollywood wants us to be looking at the STAR at all possible moments but Nathan singing the Guys and Dolls song? E-G-O.

Here's the original cast trailer - you can see that part of the immediate attraction is the staging, the decision to play in the round on a stage that can be reconfigured several ways and with part of the audience standing in the pit space as "additional street crowd"...

Returning to happier thoughts - here's the original trailer (the main cast has rotated out a couple of times since then) - choreo at least in part done by Arlene Phillips, long-time very famous stage choreographer ere in the UK, though I know her from the early years of Strictly CD when she was the token-female judge on the panel.

Current cast 2024 (except actually, nope, Sarah Brown has changed and one or two of the others...) It's the Owain Arthur arrival, anyhow:

Owain Arthur BTW is not only this guy -

He is also... this guy -

... A family fave. Yes, we are Rings of Power peeps. Proudly so.

================================

Hadn't planned to be going back again so soooooooon but - we roll with the options as they arise. Been trying to get this particular visitor to the show for a couple of years and suddenly, finally, they're in.

================================

PS: okay, I was thinking I'd seen the understudy playing Miss Adelaide at the recent visit but looking at the cast announcement, seems like I saw the main 'gal' (??) Not an unreasonable assumption BTW as it was a matinee and I think two other roles (Harry the Horse and Lieutenant Brannigan) were being played by the stand ins soooo.

Anyway, Missy A flubbed a couple of lines during the bridal shower scene and it was all faintly awkward for a moment there, so hence, thinking - not her regular gig. Otherwise, excellent performance.

[jestedatoy]

"From Past Shadows to Present Sunshine: A Journey about my Life"

Hi, I'm Jestelouie P. Datoy, but just call me "jeste" because, honestly, I don't really like "Louie" in my name because it sounds like a boy name. I always ask my mom why she named me like that. As my mom said, my name comes from my aunt; she gave me that name. But anyway, it's not a big deal because it's acceptable to be who I am. I mean, I already accepted the name I have, BWHAHAHAHAHA. Honestly, it's a unique name, and I don't have a similar name. I'm 16 years old. Ayy, joke, I'm already 18! BWHHAHAHA! Omg, I can't believe that I'm already of legal age. I live in Pusok, Ibabao Lapu-Lapu City, and my mother said that I don't really have a specific birthplace because I was born at home and not in a hospital. We have five siblings, and I'm the youngest. Of course, being the youngest is necessary to be treated like a Disney princess.

My life was simple before. I was the type of child who didn't play with other children because I was too shy. I would only play alone; I was the only one who played paper dolls, so I didn't really like to socialize with others. Until I got used to it when I grew up. But honestly, because I'm too shy, I don't really talk to anyone except my family. My mom always said, "You can play with your friends or neighbors," but I really don't want to. My mom always boosts my confidence because I don't really have confidence in myself. So when I was in fourth grade, my mother forced me to join Princess and Princess, and then I started to gain a little confidence. I loved my mom even when I was young; she always guided and supported me.

When I was a child, I didn't really know how to fight, even though my classmates bullied me. I don't want to have an enemy, even though they always bully me, but it's not a big deal to me. I know that taking revenge is not a good way, but I'm still nice to them. My mind before was immature. I didn't know how to value money. I was too spoiled by my parents. I wanted to buy everything I wanted, even though we were poor. I didn't know how to appreciate small things. I have many opportunities that I wasted.

When I was in elementary school, I loved to read on Wattpad, so I also loved to make a story and put it in my notebook. Until one day I make my own story because, since I love reading books and Wattpad, it gives me inspiration to make my own story. Besides this, I was also inspired to make a story because, in elementary school, I never forgot that I had a crush. He is a very smart person, and I think we're not level with him, but since I'm trying hard with him, I try to express myself for him to notice me so that I need to be smart, but how?? So since I'm not smart, I'm working hard, and I always study to increase my grades until I'm in the top two in our class. When I came to grade 5, I was so shocked because my crush is my classmate. Omg, I'm so shy, and I never expected this to happen. On the first day of school, I felt a little nervous but was still motivated because my crush is my classmate. Fast-forward: we know each other, but as a classmate, one day he accidentally touched my hands, and I'm really blushing like, "Omg!" Bwhahahah, then we have eye-to-eye contact, and I can see in his eyes that he is ashamed of me. Until grade 6, we weren't classmates with him, but we still saw him in the school since we're schoolmates. Then, in grade 6, I never expected that when I was in grade 4, I was obsessed with him, but when we were in grade 6, he was obsessed with me; he would always pay attention to me like I felt something fishy with him. I think he's in love with me, Charizzz. I'm just assuming. Until we graduated from elementary school and I became the top student in our class, I could see from him that he was proud of me.

Fast-forward to adulthood. Now that I have grown up, there are many changes in myself. I like to socialize with others. I have many friends, and I like to talk and play games with others. I really want to hang out with my friends because I feel comfortable with them and safe with them. I'm so thankful to those of my friends who are true to me because they are the ones who destroy my lonely, independent person. Now I have confidence, and there are many opportunities that I did not waste. I have improved a lot in myself. I like to join organizations such as volunteers, church youth, and school activities. I am no longer afraid to socialize with other people. I also have many things that I am interested in, such as rehearsing instruments because I love music. I read a lot of books. The person I love the most is my family, especially my mom, who always boosts my confidence. I'm really proud and thankful for her. I love my mom, and my dad is always here by my side. To my beloved siblings, they always cheer me on and support me. I'm so lucky to have siblings like them, and now I'm growing and making changes and improvements to myself. Now I know how to value money and how important it is, especially in today's time when the price of food is expensive, so I am saving my money. I know how to appreciate small things. What my family can give me is a big thing for me because I know they worked hard for it. I'm not shy anymore; I'm so proud of myself, and I have confidence and a strong heart. I'm not scared of anyone; I can fight for myself.

My life goals are to achieve success and provide support for my family. One of my dreams is to travel with my family. I aspire for a stable and peaceful life for us in the future. I also have a desire to become a teacher one day, to contribute to the education of the younger generation, who are in need of learning and knowledge. 

Currently, in college, I'm exploring various courses and facing the challenges that come with them. It's a battle I'm not certain I'll win, but I know I need to stay strong for my family. I have many responsibilities towards them, and I understand that my success is their success too.

We experience various things in our lives, and no matter what challenges come our way, we need to be strong within ourselves. Our success in the future lies in our own hands, and we need to be responsible for ourselves.

Thank you for reading my story. I hope you enjoy it!!!

[im-a-good-girl-i-swear]

There are some days when I feel more and more like a mother. For most of my childhood, that was all I wanted to be (aside from a princess, of course--and to be in movies, but that's one we're working on). I had a gazillion baby dolls and played make believe constantly with them, nursing, rocking, changing these little dolls.

Eventually, that mothering instinct transferred into taking care of my siblings. As the oldest of all the children in my family (cousins included), I'm the role model. Always have been. And I was also a second, third, fourth mother (after their mother, grandmother, and aunts, of course) to them when needed. I became the mother for my siblings when my parents would fight. I was the protector, the caretaker, the person who would try to make things right.

I didn't know how to be anything else.

That's part of why going to college and living away scared me so much at first. I didn't know who I was without that part of me. I didn't know who I was without taking care of someone. My family kept telling me I had to live for myself but I didn't know how to do that. I didn't know what that was like. I still don't.

Three years later, and more than halfway through my college career, and I'm still figuring that part out. I'm still learning who I am regardless of the people in my life. But there are some days at school where I get to tap into the mothering instinct I have. Today was one of those days.

One of my friends and housemates was having a really hard time today. She has a super important exam tomorrow and everything was stressing her out. She ran upstairs in tears and after giving her a moment to breathe, I went upstairs after her. I helped talk her through the anxiety, made a plan with her of how to deal with it, and then another friend and I convinced her to go to the store with us to take her mind off of everything for a bit.

At the store, I told her to pick anything from the baking aisle and I'd make it. The smile that lit up her face told me that I had done the right thing. And when we got home, I asked her if she wanted to help me make it, and I taught her how to make the muffins she loves so much.

I didn't think about it. I just did it. I didn't question my instincts. Something was wrong and I knew I could help. I needed to help. And I think I did. But as I was going around the grocery store and then cleaning up from baking, all I could think was "some days, I feel like more and more like a mother. Today is one of those days."

I can picture myself as a mother. God knows I've had enough experience taking care of little kids to prepare me for it (I know nothing prepares you to be a parent but let me dream that I'm prepared for a little while longer). And today, that picture in my head was a little clearer than others days.

It felt right to fall back into that caretaking role. Some days, I can't think about the future. Instead, my coursework and the prospects right ahead of me are all-consuming. But some days, I can take a step back. Some days, I can let myself play make-believe for a while. Some days, I feel more and more like a mother.