#Watching your only contention to the world even if he did kill everyone else being dragged away from you every night

[backpackingspace]

Okay so I've been thinking about @nonbinarylocalcryptid Astyanax lived/daddy odysseus au. Which is some good shit in general. Yall should check it out. But specifically I'm think about what it would be like for this child to grow up on calypso's island. He would have been what ? 3-10 there??

[ozzgin]

You plan to throw them a surprise party, they think you're leaving the school. Misunderstandings should be avoided when you're dealing with a pack of obsessively attached students, yet here you are. content: gender neutral reader, yandere horde, parody, kidnapping, Patreon commission

[Yandere School Masterlist]

You’ve been acting strange lately. As the end of the year approaches, so has your behaviour become increasingly suspicious: acting emotional at random times, frequently reminiscing your arrival at Yandere School, asking your classmates to take another photo in order to commemorate the moment. Something is about to happen.

“A surprise party?”

Your mother eyes you curiously, putting the cutlery down. You nod, wiping the corner of your mouth with a napkin, and your father hums without gazing up from his 1001 Ways to Stalk book.

“I just wanted to thank everyone for helping me all this time,” you explain with a faint blush, idly nudging your breakfast around the plate. “To be honest with you, I don’t think I would’ve passed any of my classes without them.”

Your statement is by no means an exaggeration. As it turns out, sheer determination alone does not necessarily compensate for lack of talent or proper skill. You wanted to follow your parents’ footsteps, yet you quickly discovered that having a dream wasn’t merely enough to compete against the true elites of the yandere world. It was out of the kindness of your classmates and staff that you nonetheless succeeded. Your teachers stayed behind with you, your classmates wasted their weekends helping you through every step of the homework. To think such a fierce, cut-throat community would go against its very nature and extend unconditional support, to you of all people...Ah, you’re getting flustered again.

“That’s a fantastic idea, honey,” your mother encourages with a warm smile. “I’m sure they will love it.”

Meanwhile, somewhere away from your peaceful morning meal, the students are gathered with roughened faces and clenched fists, weighted down by an unspoken tension.

“I think it’s already obvious to everyone here,” a young man declares sombrely, taking a moment to observe the masses, “that (Y/N) is most likely considering dropping out.”

“How could this happen,” someone else shouts, voice breaking theatrically. “We did everything to keep their grades up. I’m certain it worked; I broke into the school’s grading system to confirm for myself!”

“Maybe we were too involved,” someone sheepishly suggests.

“Nonsense.”

“Well, they did catch us in the changing rooms that one time,” someone admits. 

“Ah, what about the time we stole their childhood albums to make copies for our shrines? (Y/N)’s mom almost killed us!”

“Don’t forget when our coach got caught sniffing (Y/N)’s confiscated jacket.”

“Can you blame him? That scent’s heavenly.”

Everyone nods in approval, then scrambles back into a focused frown after being scolded by the apparent leader of the pack. We must stay focused, he warns with authority.

This is no laughing matter. If you were to transfer to a different school, they would lose their one and only Darling! There’s no telling how the students and staff will react; there could be riots, wars, utter chaos. One could even go as far as to say that your fate no longer depends on your own whims. Your presence is of political importance, potentially causing irremediable damage to all involved parties if you’d ever make a rash decision.

“Do you have a date in mind,” your mother asks, taking away the empty plates.

You shake your head confidently, standing up from the table.

“We must settle this quickly, gentlemen,” the leader warns. “Mark down the date in your calendars.”

“Could it be that we got the time wrong,” your father probes, tapping his foot impatiently.

“No, I’m certain it’s today,” the woman retorts, checking her watch.

The classroom is overflowing with dazzling party elements, from balloons, to colourful garlands, to tables cluttered with snacks and appetizers; yet it’s missing the most important element – the people. You!

You shake your head to no avail. The blindfold is tightly secured over your eyes, and the intricate knots roped around your body leave no room for any kind of movement. You can tell you’re presently tucked in the trunk of a car, though you’ve no idea where said car is headed or why you’re folded in here to begin with.

Did you forget about some school appointment? No, the next kidnapping simulation should be after the holidays. You’re also rather confident you haven’t accidentally promised to be the study partner of some classmate on this day in particular. You should know; you have a thick scheduling notebook just for this purpose, given most of the school seems to be eager to tie you up and pretend to steal you away. Whatever happened to that third year who actually tried to leave the country with you? Despite your reassurance that you never once feared for your life, they still suspended him.

Ah, but now is not the time to daydream about the good old days. You have a party to attend. Your parents should already be at school, and you’d guess that most of your friends are on their way there. What will they think once they realize their host is missing? What a deplorable way to show them your gratitude!

Before you can consider how to escape this predicament, the door opens with nonchalance, and you’re carefully carried out and placed onto the ground. The blindfold is swiftly removed, causing you to squint your eyes against the sudden avalanche of light.

“What are you guys doing here,” you mumble in shock, gawking at more than half the school standing across from you.

“Don’t do this to us, (Y/N),” one girl cries out, collapsing to her knees and punching the ground for additional effect.

“What did I say about emotional blackmail,” the leader grunts. He snaps his fingers, and a pair of students lift the offender up, dragging her to the back of the group as she shouts in protest.

“Do excuse our methods, (Y/N),” he proceeds to explain with the calculated tone of someone deep in negotiations, “but you have to understand we’re all struggling to accept your decision. If we have ever wronged you or made you feel uncomfortable, let us know and we shall ensure immediate punishment for it!”

“Wait, what decision?”

“To leave Yandere School,” someone bawls, the others lowering their gaze. “We won’t accept it! Never!”

There’s a moment of silence as you process the words, lips pursed in confusion.

“Don’t lie to us, you’ve been acting strange for the past few weeks.”

“I mean, yeah, I was...planning a surprise party to, uh, thank you for all your help. Although I can see why you’d think it was a goodbye announcement instead,” you say, letting out an awkward chuckle.

Oh. That’s what it was. Well, it makes sense. It’s definitely something you’d do, upon further consideration. The crowd erupts in a murmur, and the leader of the pack rubs his temples, visibly humiliated to be caught in this farce of a misunderstanding. With ears flushed red, he quietly asks you for the location, then scrambles to retrieve the car.

“I’m so glad they showed up,” your mother sighs in relief, gesturing to a nearby teacher. “I was worried I might have to use the stun gun, had anything happened to my little (Y/N).”

A couple of your classmates swallow dryly, tugging at their collars. It’s the second time they’ve narrowly escaped death at the hand of your parents.

One student is angrily stuffing his mouth with some of the appetizers, trying to hold back the tears. If he knew it was all just a misunderstanding, he would’ve tried his luck with you instead of chauffeuring you around. Good Lord, to think you were all tied up, just for him, and he fumbled it.

[olsenmyolsen]

Ever Since Natasha Saw You (18+)

master list

dark master list

Post Black Widow Dark!Natasha Romanoff (Female Reader X Natasha Romanoff)

Summary: She was a hero. But to her, YOU were so much more.

Word Count: 6.1K

Content: Dub-Con, Obsession, Kidnapping, Stalking, Blood, Knife, Knifeplay, Mommy Kink, Feelings, Trauma, Death,

The Black Widow hid a secret.

She was in love with you. Sounds pretty innocent... right?

"Night Y/N!" Your coworker Daisy called out as you were still typing at your computer. It was Friday night, and everyone but you was already leaving. Leaving to be free of the thoughts of work for at least the weekend.

You had a marketing job in downtown Manhattan. Skyscraper. Cubicle. Long nights. That kind of job.

You liked it, honestly.

Sure, New York and the surrounding areas were dangerous. Hell, at times. But you had heroes and vigilantes to save you. You had first-hand experience in 2012 when you and your Dad were saved while out at your "I made it through University without killing myself" lunch.

Now, here you were 4 years later. Still in the city while your Dad left. But that was fine. Being on your own has been exemplary. Sure, you have some friends... coworkers, really. You went on dates! I mean, they didn't lead to much more. But you were going through life.

A cat! You have a cat. An orange tabby who only loves you for food...

Anyways! You were fine and finishing up work on your computer when a pop-up of World News showed up in the top right-hand corner of your screen.

What's New 3 Weeks After The Fall Of A Secret Organization Hiding In The Sky? Russia and the U.S. Remain Quiet.

You heard about the debris and strange things found over on that side of the world earlier this month. With that came the theories.

You rolled your eyes at most. But some were fun. Like aliens was a popular one. People online said it was a crashed group of green-shape-shifting aliens. Your coworker Lindsey swore by another that claimed it was a giant purple guy who crashed on Earth.

Yeah, that'll be the day.

You even had a friend of a friend named Darcy who said an Avenger was present to what happened, leaving you curious.

The Avengers, as far as you were concerned, were in trouble. Rumblings, sightings, and videos of two sides of the superhero group fighting at a German airport left many to speculate that this was the end. Plus, this coming weeks after what happened in Lagos and the murder of King T'Chaka made it all the more plausible.

So, if the rumor was confirmed that an Avenger was at the collapse of what many were confused about, it was... interesting.

But you couldn't dwell on that. You shook your head and closed out of the news to finish up your projected cost for the next wave of Roxxon Marketing.

_

As you walked out of your office building, you were unaware you were being followed.

It wasn't the first time you had been followed. Fuck it wasn't even the fiftieth time it had happened, but still you remained clueless. She thought it was cute at first how unaware of your surroundings you were. It always made her smile.

Because in one second, an innocent and pretty thing like you could be gone.

But she wouldn't let that happen.

Not by anyone else, at least.

You have to understand. She was your protector. Yeah.. Yeah, that's right! The one to make sure you got home safe. The one to take care of threats no matter how minuscule they might be. She also made sure no one got too close or even dared to ask you out.

You couldn't date. That would be unfair and very hurtful to the one who... watched over you...

I mean, you never wondered why suddenly Dennis never showed back up to work after asking you out to lunch, now did you?

Rumor was his family got sick, and he had to skip town. But we know about rumors now, don't we? I.E., purple aliens. Green shapeshifting ones. You get it.

Oh. Also. What happened to Dennis, you may ask?

I'll let you know when his body turns up.

However, all of this is to say that you were lucky Natasha Romanoff picked you.

She was back after being gone, having to deal with some family business. But she was back! For you! Natasha thought you should be grateful. She could be- SHOULD BE on the run right now, but here she was twenty feet behind you.

After tonight, you were going to know precisely who she was.

Natasha smiled as she followed you. She laughed as she saw how cautious you were of people even when you're on your phone like you are right now.

However, as cautious as you may be, it leaves you vulnerable. Sweet. Easy.

Natasha thinks you're too nice for your own good sometimes. Like you always see the best in people. It drives Natasha crazy the amount times she has had to stop because you stopped to help someone. A drunk. A homeless man. A- you get it.

As you and Natasha head down into the subway, she appreciates how your route hasn't changed at all since your first day of work many years ago. Yet she can't help but snicker at how you've never noticed her taking that walk with you. But then again, even with how cautious you are, you don't notice things.

You still haven't noticed the tiny cameras Natasha installed in your place. Or the amount of panties she's stolen. Or even the amount of times you've slept with her arms around your body. In addition to the hushed whispers and stolen kisses, she's left on your lips.

On top of that, you haven't noticed her feelings for you.

Natasha moves closer to you as you both are nearing your stop. With a plan in motion, The Black Widow can't help but smile.

Natasha takes another step forward and grabs onto the metal pole in front of herself to stop her movement when you look up and around the car. You stop when your eyes reach Natasha's green ones in a hoodie and jeans. You smile quickly before putting your head down, focusing back on your phone.

What you did just now was polite. You looked from your phone to stretch your neck and smiled at a cute blonde who just so happened to be looking your way.

That's what you thought.

To Natasha, you signaled her out.

With your eyes, you noticed her. After all this time, you did it! On tonight of all nights. It was a sign. It was meant to be!

Natasha smiled and stared at you, unaware.

When you finally got up to get off at your stop, you felt your arm being yanked back. When you stumbled back and turned your head to find a bald man older than your father looking at you like he won a prize, you pulled as hard as possible. But his grip was tight. "Where are you going, sweetheart?" He looked over your body, making you pull again.

How was no one stopping this man? Was no one seeing it? Did no one care?

The train car beeped, signaling the doors were going to be closing, and the man had yet to remove you from his grip. You were about to scream when the blonde woman from before grabbed your other arm, making you shriek in surprise. The woman acted fast and kicked the man in the knee hard enough to break it before rushing the two of you out of the train car just as the doors closed on three other men hitting their first against the door.

You wanted to wave them bye and flick them off, but your arm hurt. Not the one the man held.. But... but your other one. The one the woman held as she saved you.

"You, alright?" The blonde had a raspy voice as she spoke. It sounded familiar, but as you quickly scanned her face, you declared she must have that kind of face. (as if) But her eyes. Her eyes were one of a kind. Beautiful and a shimmering green you wanted to get lost in.

So lost that you almost forgot about the arm pain and the dizziness you were starting to feel...

"Yeah." You nodded to the blonde who had yet to release your arm. "I'm fine."

This was a lie, and Natasha, of course, knew that. I mean, she was the one wearing the ring that, with one turn of the gemstone, revealed a tiny needle. One that the blonde used to inject your arm with a sleeping agent.

"Are you sure?" The woman smiled as she asked you. Why was she smiling? You went to nod that you were indeed fine but found yourself more tired. Weaker even. "Oh, honey, you don't look so good."

Natasha smiled as she felt your body losing the fight. Natasha quickly looked around before wrapping your arm around her shoulder to make it appear as if you were a drunk friend who needed help getting home.

"Oh, Y/N, it looks like that guy must have really done something, huh?"

The guy in the group of men that she paid off.

Your mind was becoming black as your body went limp, and before you could ask her how she knew your name or who the hell she was, you took one last look at the blonde.

This time, you recognized who she was.

You went to speak but slurred your words as you closed your eyes, passing out in Natasha Romanoff's arms.

_

Getting you home was easy.

As Natasha unlocked your front door, she smiled, pulling you closer as you entered through the threshold between the hallway and your apartment. Natasha smiled wider as she looked around at what would become her place with you before looking at your limp, unconscious body. "We're home!"

Home was with you.

With a kick to the door, it closed behind you two as she hurried you to your room.

Once inside, Natasha was happy to find that not much, if anything, had changed since she last visited. She said hi to your cat, who purred at the sight of the blonde.

Natasha loved your cat and couldn't wait to be a good cat mom.

Natasha took you and gently placed you on the bed before looking around the room. She was looking for something. Natasha closed the bedroom door and went back, kicking the floorboard to the right of your end table, and up it flipped. She bent down and pulled out a small black backpack she stored two years ago.

Opening it up to make sure everything was still there. She knew you probably didn't even know that it existed. (You hadn't.) But Natasha had to be sure.

Dumping out the bag's contents, she was happy to see that nothing was missing. But she still took inventory. 5 Widow Bites. 1 Pistol. 12 Bullets. 1 Set of Handcuffs. 1 Knife. 3 Needles of the Sleeping Agent. 1 Burner Phone.

Finally, 2 very dry Nutri-Grain Bar.

Natasha kept the loaded gun, knife, and handcuffs out of the bag and placed it on the desk in the corner of your room. The bag moved to the edge of the bed—no point in hiding it now.

"Oh, Y/N!" Natasha sat next to your upper body, passed out on the bed. She spoke as her soft hand ran through your hair. It calmed Natasha. "You're so pretty, Y/N."

Natasha looked over your still-covered body before moving her hand down your back. "Here. Come on." She flipped you over onto your back and pulled you more onto the bed.

Natasha's eyes found your face. "Baby, I can't wait for the rest of our lives." Natasha bit her lip as she spoke to you. Hopefully, and giddy for the future. "We're going to be so happy." Natasha leaned down and planted a kiss at the top of your head. "You still smell like coconut. I still don't really like that shampoo, but I know how much you do." Natasha smiled as if this was a normal conversation before giving you another kiss. Just as one of her hands began to snake its way across your stomach before landing at your hip.

"I love you."

Natasha couldn't help herself. She smiled brightly as she said those words out loud to you for the first time.

Natasha's lips found the side of your face again and again. She always loved how soft you felt against her. Delicate. Like something Natasha wanted to cherish. Keep perfect. Forever.

But there was also that part inside of her. The side of Natasha that wanted to own you. Take that softness and fuck it out of you. Damage you. Hurt you.

Both were fighting for control.

Regardless, Natasha slid down the zipper of your unbuttoned jeans and slipped her hand over your black cotton panties. Moaning as her stomach flipped in the joys of touching you, feeling your heat on her fingers. Letting excitement wave over her, she cupped your pussy before dragging her index finger up over your growing wet-covered folds. "Oh fuck, baby!" Natasha moaned before looking at the side of your face.

Natasha smiles to herself. She leans over and kisses your cheek, and quickly removes her hand from your recently shaved pussy.

Natasha licks the little slick on her fingers off.

Natasha savored the taste before she laid flat on her back. Lifting her ass as she tore off the black jeans she was wearing along with her red panties. Choosing to keep her slightly raised pullover hoodie on, Natasha grabbed your left wrist. "I want you to feel me..." Natasha looked over and spoke to you. "I want you to feel how wet you make me, Y/N! How tight I am for you. I've been waiting."

With that, Natasha kept her eyes on your left hand as she moved it down her toned stomach. The tips of your fingers brushing over her skin, making her squirm in anticipation for what's to come.

Moving them further down, Natasha gasps as your hand gets pushed down onto the top of Natasha's bare pussy. "This is for you." She moans as she pushed your hand further down. Directing your middle and ring finger to her clit. "Oh fuck!" She moans and grows wetter at your unconscious touch.

"Keep going. Keep going!" Natasha directs your fingers to move in a circular motion. Before her mouth drops as your fingers get pushed over The Black Widows dripping pussy. She moans and grips your hand. "Right there." Natasha moves your fingers around her opening for you.

"It's for you, baby. Come on. I want you to fuck me!" She gives your hand one more push and bucks when your fingers easily slide into her. Natasha loudly moans while her left hand grips the comforter of the bed.

Your fingers feel perfect inside of her.

Natasha can't get over that.

She thinks you were made for her.

Slowly, Natasha starts to move herself against your fingers. Her hips working overtime. Only using her right hand to position your hand better. "Oh my God!" Natasha smiles as a shaky breath comes out. You're doing this to her. You're making her feel this good. You're fucking her right.

Natasha is rocking her hips up and down your slick fingers. You're pushing her closer and closer. "Oh god!" She grunts as she slams the back of your hand to feel you deeper, indirectly slapping her pussy and clit that, sends a wave of pain that morphs into pleasure. "Oh yes!"

Natasha does it repeatedly while her left-hand works on her clit. Her middle fingers pushes the bud of it up as she continues her circular motion. "That's it, baby! Make me cum! Make me fucking cum!" She turns her head to you and stares at your unconscious body. "You're doing so well, baby."

If you were awake right now, you'd feel Natasha's wetness run down your fingers. Into your palms. And down your wrist. You'd hear her moans and screams of pleasure as she makes herself cum with your fingers. "Oh my God!" Natasha Romanoff jolts up. "Y/N, I'm cumming! I'm cumming! Oh fuck! Oh, fuck, baby.."

Natasha rides her orgasm out and smiles when she falls back onto the bed. She turns and looks at your body. "You made me feel so good."

You're perfect.

As she catches her breath, Natasha gently pulls your fingers out and brings them up to her mouth. She marvels at the sight of you now covered in her before she takes her tongue and runs it over your fingers. Enjoying the taste of herself. "I can't wait to taste you." Now that we're together, she forgot to add.

Natasha insets your finger back into her mouth. Loudly sucking on them and moaning before shoving your fingers to the back of her throat, making herself gag on them. She repeats the action.

"Will you let me do that to you?" Natasha says after she's pulled them out and caught her breath. "Hmm?" She licks them again. "Will you gag for me?" She kisses your ring finger and twirls it around. "I wonder..."

Natasha kisses you one more time as she gently places your hand down and moves her body to lay half of it on you. "I wonder what you won't do now that you're mine." She takes your chin in her hand and moves it in her direction. "I can't wait for you to be awake. For us." Natasha deeply kisses your lips as her hand quickly pushes your boobs up. "But first." Natasha releases you and gets up from the bed. She takes off the rest of her clothes and tosses them into your now-shared laundry basket before moving to the desk where her belongings are located.

"I need to take care of a few things."

_

Slowly, your body starts to stir awake.

You go to move to your side but wince when you land on your arm. You are unsure why it hurts, but you are too stiff and tired to worry about that right now. But for some reason, since you're awakening, your body isn't going back to sleep.

Silent bells are ringing in your head, but you don't know they're there.

You groan and manage to flip your body onto its stomach. This position feels terrific, especially since you feel the coolness of the bedsheet against your body. You snuggle your face into your pillow- your eyes shoot open.

You don't remember coming home...

You open your eyes wider and take a look around the room. It's your room. You're relieved to see that but grow more worried at your nonexistent memory of getting home.

Plus, it looks like things around the room are off... you turn your tired back against the mattress and find yourself surprised to have another person in the room.

A blonde-haired woman wearing one of your college sweatshirts looking through one of your old journals... Once again, the alarm in your head is not alerting you. It's distant and faded.

"That's my shirt..?" Your groggy voice makes the woman look up with a smile.

To you, the woman's smile looks like a kid on Christmas morning.

To Natasha, she's testing out how you're gonna act.

"Hi!" The woman gets up with a glass of water from the chair at your desk. The action reveals to you that it looks like she's not wearing any bottoms, but you can't tell because of the length of her- your sweatshirt. The blonde rounds the bed and carefully gets on her knees before you on the floor. She looks kindly at you as your eyes quickly scan her face and exposed legs. "Nice to see you up." She says to you. Innocently enough. "How are you feeling?" She sweetly asks as she hands you the glass of water.

"I don't- I don't remember..." You say, making the blonde smile wider. "I was walking..." You struggle to come up with anything after that. It's like your mind went blank.

Why couldn't you remember?

You shake your head and take a few sips from the glass before the blonde takes it from you to place on your bedside table—a kind gesture on the outside. But the less you know about the pheromonal powder agent you just ingested, the better.

"Oh, honey..." The blonde lifts and places her hand on yours. The soft contact makes you feel warmer. However, the feeling of this being wrong is still unreachable to you. Natasha smiles when you don't pull away. The drugs from before and now are working. "Those men really did a number on you, huh?"

Men? You think as Natasha watches your face.

"You know you're lucky I was there," Natasha says as she rises from her kneeling position to stand in front of you. Now she towers you, and you feel her legs brush past your own. You don't stop her as she moves closer to you. She raises a hand and pushes some of your hair back. "A man grabbed you and wanted to hurt you, but I was there to stop them. But honey, I think they drugged you..."

Her touch and voice were soothing. She felt and smelled wonderful. You even did your best to not react to the pet name she gave you. "Dru-drugged me?" Once again, the bells should be going off, but Natasha knows exactly what she's doing. "Yeah, I got you off the train, but as we were walking, you started to walk funny. Your face got sleepy." She says this while looking into your eyes. She has her gaze fixated on you, and it pulls you in. "But you were smart." The blonde smiles down at you. "You made sure to tell me where you lived so I could get you home safe." Her raspy voice makes you smile, but her words are making you question if that happened... but you don't remember...

"Are you okay?" She asks as you're thinking. You look back up at her concerned face. "Yeah.. I- I was just trying to remember..." Natasha nods and moves her body in between your legs. Spreading them further apart. "What did you say your name was again?" You ask, making Natasha laugh. "I didn't. Good try, though." She places her hands on your shoulders. She's bold. "What's the matter? You don't trust me?" Something about the way she says it makes you feel sick and guilty for even thinking that you didn't trust her.

Natasha, of course, knows this.

"No- no, I trust you! I'm sorry!" You reach your hands out and place them on Natasha's covered hips. Natasha smiles at your action while faking a sad sniffle. "My name is Natasha." You look over the blonde and smile.

That's when it clicks.

"Natasha Romanoff." Natasha's frown turns into a smile. "Wow, you know who I am?" She fakes surprise and turns on the innocence. You nod with your mind, unable to think about anything else but her. "Wow! I got saved by The Black Widow."

Natasha watches as you process this faux information. Gosh, you look so cute. "I guess I was lucky, huh?" You look at her, earning a chuckle. "I just didn't want anything to happen to you," Natasha says, warming your heart. "You're too perfect." She adds in a low whisper. Something you catch that makes your brain fuzzy.

However, before you can do or say anything else, Natasha pushes her body closer to you. Carefully, she watches your eyes as she lifts one leg over yours. Placing one knee on the bed next to your hips before doing the same with the other. She smiles down at you as her bare ass finds itself sitting in your lap.

You feel her wet pussy on your tight black bike shorts.

"Is this okay?" She whispers as she brings her face close enough to yours to feel her breath on your ear. You inhale her scent and feel the butterflies in your stomach.

"More than okay, Natasha..." You find yourself saying. The alarms in your head have officially been silenced. You should be asking why she's doing this, why she's still here. You shouldn't be accepting her advances. But yet you aren't questioning her. You accept her actions with a smile.

She smiles back.

"You know..." Natasha leans down and kisses your cheek. "I'll always protect you." You feel a blush on your face when her soft lips touch your skin again. "I've loved you for so long, and now I get to show you." Natasha lifts her face away from you to look at your eyes flutter.

Natasha sees how defenseless you are now.

The drugs have all worked.

"You love me?" You question as you move your hands down from Natasha's hips to her thighs. The touch of her feels cool to your warm hands. You peer into her green eyes and see them sparkle. "For years, I've loved you." She unwraps her arms from around you and places them on your hands. She moves them up from her thighs to under what used to be your shirt. You feel the bend of her hips and the softness of the sides of her body as your fingertips brush past their way to her nipples.

She pushes your hand to grope her boobs.

"For years, I've wanted you, and now I have you. Don't I?"

Natasha slowly moves her hips back and forth, sending a wave of pleasure through her body as her wet clit brushes up and down the end seam of your bike shorts. She moans and whimpers while looking at you, waiting for an answer. "Don't I, Y/N?!" You push and pull her boobs as you look at Natasha Romanoff acting like a slut for you. "Yes. Yes, Natasha! You have me!"

"I'm yours!" You wanted to scream.

"Good girl." She whispers as she leans down and kisses you again and again. Her tongue pushing its way into your mouth. The taste of her is salvia is electrifying. The pleasure you feel makes you moan into her mouth. Natasha smirks as you push yourself deeper and closer to The Black Widow.

Natasha reaches down as you two fall onto the bed to places her hand in the middle of your bike shorts. She begins rubbing your core up and down as her hand pushes your legs open. "Come on, baby. Open up for me."

You nod with your eyes closed and feel Natasha's fingers slow down in speed as she now gently brushes her fingers past your wet clit seeping through the shorts.

Each time she touches it, you jump.

And then. Natasha pulls her hands away from you: nothing but the cool air touching the wet spot on your shorts. You feel needy and frustrated. You open your eyes to see Natasha on her knees, lifting her shirt off her body. Her blonde hair falls back into place right above her shoulder.

She smiles at you and watches as you take her in.

You feel your mouth become dry as you look up at Natasha's toned stomach. A set of abs staring at you. You move from her perfect breast and hard pink nipples to her shoulders and biceps. The definition in her arms makes you close your mouth to hold in a noise that would've been embarrassing.

You look up at her neck—a smile when you see a cute mole that was previously hidden. Finally, you bring your eyes to her face and the smirk on her lips.

"Can I take these off?" Natasha points down to your bike shorts. You nod, making Natasha internally laugh. The shorts were coming off no matter what your answer was.

You pull your head from Natasaba's gaze and watch as Natasha's left hand goes to the bottom seam of your shorts and lifts them up from your body.

Once again, her touch makes your skin flush with pleasure. It's as if you're addicted to her and her touch.

Natasha pulls her right arm from behind herself, and that's when you drop your mouth. "Na-natasha, what's that?"

"Did I say you can speak?"

You sit stunned as the knife in her hand comes closer to your body. You weren't aware that you couldn't speak unless spoken to, but... di- did Natasha expect that of you? Did she tell you, and you just forgot?

"Look at me." She sternly asks of you. "Not at the knife but at me." The movement of the knife doesn't stop when you pull your eyes to Natasha and her beautiful green ones. "What did I say earlier?" She asks. "Think real hard and then answer me, okay." Her eyes leave you as she focuses on the blade, meeting the bottom seam of your shorts. You keep your eyes on Natasha's face and hear the ripping sound of your shorts as she goes further and further up.

She stops at your hip close to the top seam when you decide to speak up.

"That you'll always protect me." Natasha smiles wide. You listened and answered her perfectly. Natasha smiles and can't help herself when she leans in and kisses you. "Good job." She says with care dripping from her lips. "What else did I say?"

"That you love me."

Natasha nods. "I do love you." She leans in and, with the knife still in her left hand, drags up the rest of the way. Her lips touch yours at the same time the blade cuts through your shorts.

Immediately, Natasha tosses the knife off the bed. It clatters on the floor, making you jump into Natasha's lips again. "Sorry." You say when she backs away. "It's okay." The blonde tells you. "As long as you know that I would never hurt you, right?"

"Right." You agree easily.

Natasha smiles as she pulls at the fabric resting on your pussy. The coating sticks to you as she pulls it further away until the string of wetness breaks mid-air. Falling back onto your thigh. "Did Mommy make you feel this way?"

She knows that she did.

But she wants to hear you say it.

"Yes." Natasha brings her fingers back to where they belong. "Yes, what?" She glides her middle finger over your pink mound. You moan and shudder.

"Yes, Mommy."

_

Natasha should've left soon after that night. But she couldn't bring herself to do it.

She knew her friends needed her help, but she couldn't leave you. She finally had you, and you had her. Why would she want to jeopardize that?

So as, the days turned into weeks to months to years. Natasha felt the pressure to run continue to build.

In contrast, as the days turned into weeks to months to years. You felt yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with the one who saved you. The Black Widow. The cute blonde hero who made you breakfast in bed. The woman who stayed with you. The one who whispered sweet nothings into your ear every night as you drifted asleep. The woman who saved the world repeatedly could now be there for you.

Natasha even let it be known that you didn't have to work anymore. She had an array of offshore accounts and wanted to spoil you, and you, in turn, let her.

You blushed when she looked your way and never got tired of seeing her smile. A goddess herself sculpted her body, and Natasha happily made sure you came for her. Only her.

"Hey, what's going on?"

You walked out of your and Natasha's bedroom after finding the bed empty to see her in the living room going over her weaponry. Something you didn't like, but you trusted Natasha with them. Knowing she would never harm you.

It was early afternoon, and after your morning trip to the farmers market, followed by some light grocery shopping, you came home to Natasha, waiting with some brunch and a board game.

You took a nap after that, and while you slept, Natasha made her decision.

"They need me."

You knew who Natasha was talking about. It wasn't a secret that you were dating Natasha Romanoff. Well, it was a secret to everyone else. But you get my point. You were dating a fugitive labeled that by the United Nations on account of the Sokovian Accords—an ex-Avenger who still wanted to help.

"What if I don't want you to go." You asked with hurt in your voice. You finally had the love of your life. Someone you weren't even looking for, and now she wanted to go?

"Baby..." She put her gun on the coffee table and made her way to you. Wrapping her arms around you as you wrapped around her body. "I don't want to go..." A white lie, considering her little weekend-avenging trips from time to time weren't enough. "But I have to. To protect us. To protect you." The truth.

"Rogers needs me. Plus, with Vision and Wanda running around trying to be a normal couple again. He really needs the help."

You nodded into Natasha's shoulder. You hated that she was right. "How long?" Natasha sighed. She really didn't know how long it would be.

"Give me two weeks, and I'll be back."

You deflated, and your heart formed cracks. You didn't want her to leave, and you didn't want her to go for that long!

Natasha started kissing your head and rubbing your back, and you didn't understand why until you felt the tears leaving your eyes. You were crying.

Natasha hated it. She hated hearing how heartbroken you were. But at the same time, she loved it. You were hers. And she was yours.

"I love you Y/N. I'll be back before you know it."

"I love you, Natty. Please be careful."

_

Natasha wasn't even gone for two weeks. In fact, her time with Captain and Birdboy lasted a mere pair of days.

On day 3, Vision turned off his transponder.

Within 48 hours, half of everything was dust.

When Natasha found the others at the corpse of the synthezoid. Two people ran through Natasha's mind.

Yelena.

And you.

_

"Y/N!"

Natasha screamed as she busted open the door to your shared space. She threw her useless phone onto the counter as she ran through the living room, still in her uniform. Passing by the TV that sat on the emergency broadcast. "Y/N!" She called out again as she stopped at the bedroom door. "Please be here. Please be alive.."

Natasha had tears in her eyes as she slowly opened the bedroom door. Her breath left her lips in a gasp before she blinked away tears that were escaping. She carefully made her way to the bed and sat down.

You turned over as you felt the bed shift. Then you opened your eyes when you felt Natasha's presence. "Natasha? Natasha!" You sprung up from the bed and collided into her body.

You both wept as the relief flooded your combined emotions. "You're alive..." Natasha whispered into your head before inhaling.

She grew to love your shampoo.

"I miss you." You said. "Don't worry, Detka. I'm here. I'm here." Natasha kissed the side of your head before leaning back and kissing your mouth.

God, she missed your lips and the softness of your cheeks as you tried to hide your blush.

"I miss you." You repeated, confusing Natasha.

"Babe?" She pulled back and held your head in her hands. Her green eyes scanned your beautiful face and saw nothing wrong until a speck of dust flew off your nose. "No.." Natasha whispered with pain. "Y/N." She kept your face in her hands as little by little. You ceased to exist. "Y/N!" Her hands started to be covered.

"I miss you."

"Y/N, please no! No! Please!"

"I miss-" "Stop it!" "Nata-"

"No!" She screamed and screamed as you vanished until she woke up thrashing in her bed at the compound. Alone. Gun drawn and ready...

"Whatever it takes..." Whispered by you... Is this the last thing Natasha always heard when she woke up from her nightmares..

Natasha looks around the room with bags under her red, dried eyes and chapped lips. She struggles every day to live. She hates herself for leaving.

She hates that the last thing you told her was, "be careful."

She is hurt. Alone. Scared.

She misses you.

Every day, she tries and uses her resources to find a way to bring everyone back. But so far, she's always coming up empty-handed.

The worst part is, is that even after three years of you being gone. Natasha never told anyone. You were a secret to everyone else.

But to Natasha, you were everything.

dividers by @/benkeibear & @/firefly-graphics

[ceratedfish24]

Your takes on c!Scott and flower husbands have honestly been so refreshing that its reignited my old Hot Takes on c!Jimmy bc I detest the way people characterize him.

I feel like so many people portray Jimmy as this dejected downtrodden victim of bullying, which feeds into a narrative that Scott was cruel and abusive and awful or whatever, and tends to act like Jimmy doesn't have any agency ever. But IN REALITY??? Jimmy is not downtrodden and dejected and sad!!!!! In my opinion, Jimmy's defining character trait is his unshakable TENACITY! Ppl never want to admit that Jimmy is a little shit! That he acts out of spite, that his friends' teasing only tends to motivate him!! He *thrives* in environments that challenge him! AND to be so for real, he is a grown man with agency and decision-making skills and I'm tired of people acting like he isn't.

In general I feel like people just have the wrong outlook on him as a character. Maybe they've just collectively misunderstood him, or a Helpless Miserable Victim is easier to write about in fic, or they just want to project their own bullying-related trauma onto him or whatever. (People do similar things to Scar when talking about desert duo, which I understand even less). IDK. These are just my thoughtssssss sorry for rambling :P

No because you’re literally so real for this. Jimmy is SUCH a little shit. His response to Joel being mad at Jimmy for trying to kill him was to SHAKE HIS ASS AT JOEL. He taunted Joel because Jimmy successfully used Lizzie to bait Joel out. He tried to guilt trip Scott into giving him time. These aren’t negative qualities. This is a guy being silly with his friends. Embrace them when writing c!Jimmy. These are wonderful and realistic qualities.

Jimmy’s tenacity is so remarkable. He gets knocked down and all of his friends tease him about it, and he stands right back up with pep in his step. A lot of people treat Pearl the same way. Like, guys, these people are adults who make their own choices, and, often times, people who are given free will are not going to make the responsible choice most of the time when there are no real world consequences to their actions other than maybe “I might not get to be in the finale of this Minecraft series”.

There is SO much favoritism in the Life Series. Jimmy and Pearl are always reduced to their greatest tragedies, while Scott and Cleo are reduced to their most selfish moments, even though everyone else is equally selfish because IT IS A DEATH GAME. IT IS A COMPETITION. THAT IS THE POINT.

A lot of Jimmy’s deaths tend to be his own doing. Whether he unnecessarily made an enemy or just wasn’t being careful, a lot of Jimmy’s deaths are his fault, and that’s fine. He likes to play into bits. He’s not that serious about winning as opposed to making fun content. Pearl has made her fair share of mistakes and enemies, and that adds plot and drama to her content. That’s how she plays it, and it’s fine! Don’t infantilize them for dealing with the consequences of their actions just like everybody else!

Scott was widowed, and he had to watch his allies die before he did for seasons. Nobody ever comforts him about it. Nobody says “oh this man is so sad he’s just doing his best but he can’t keep his friends alive and it’s eating him up and everyone should baby him”.

Nobody even calls Joel toxic for constantly targeting Scott, but somehow Scott is toxic for teasing Jimmy now and then? (Which is not to say that Joel is toxic. He just finds it fun to target his good friend and knows where Scott’s limits are. It’s actually a sign of how close they are in real life). Nobody calls Etho and Bdubs toxic for being so mean to each other. Nobody calls Impulse manipulative when his whole thing in Third Life was betraying people. Nobody says Ren is controlling for taking the lead in Dogwarts or calling the Renwood Mound the Ren Mound. Scar is a liar and a scammer and no one thinks less of him for it.

Do you wanna know why? Because they’re friends having fun. Scott and Scott’s character should be treated with that same respect given to everyone else. Also, people need to keep in mind that Scott is not actively playing a character. Scott is just playing the game the way that cc!Scott wants to play the game, so any in depth analysis of Scott’s “character”? That’s an over analysis of cc!Scott in a competitive environment, and that man is literally on this site, people. He knows about Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss, Girldad. I’ve seen him reply to analysis posts on why Scott is manipulative. He’s literally just a guy playing a game for fun.

Imagine if someone accused you of playing an evil and selfish character because you asked your friend to give you the monopoly money they owe you. Or, worse imagine if someone accused you of playing a manipulative character because you let your friend land on your monopoly property without paying you????? Because you love your friend??????? Like, excuse me????????

Thank you for the ask!!!!!! 🩵🩵🩵 It’s always flattering when someone calls my posts “refreshing”💕💕💕(also I see you all the time and I love seeing your additions to my posts💖)

[moonrisecoeur]

soothing - leon kennedy

a/n: (PLEASE READ) hey! this is moon! this post would not show up in the tags with the long and detailed warning i put on it, so i made that a separate post. please read this post first before you even look at this one (that post will have the normal info like what content is it and word count along with more notes).

—

leon knows you’re… obsessive. he’s noticed your harsh glares and you possessively holding his waist when you’re both out together. he doesn’t miss the way you talk to other people, especially other people you know would theoretically be leon’s type. he assures you that he’s yours, he belongs to you, that no one will never get to have him the way you do, but it doesn’t make those feelings go away for you; it only mellows them for a short while.

he can’t say he planned for his partner to be so insanely obsessed with him, but it does make him feel better sometimes. especially when he’s having really rough days. when he feels worthless, like the only purpose of his existence is to be a weapon for the government to apathetically throw at problems, you’re there. you remind him, in your own twisted little way, that he’s valuable to someone. even if it’s in a “i need you like i need oxygen so no one else can ever have you and no one else deserves to lay a finger on you i will cut their hands off if they try” kinda way.

the world is fucked up anyway, who’s to say he gets to judge moral character? you make him feel desired and wanted, so what if you’re not a good person?

he’s rather introverted anyway, so it’s not like he’s going out every night and meeting new people. combine that with low self esteem and trauma from, well, being leon, he’s drained and can’t be bothered to care if you’re a little too obsessed.

hell, his last ‘relationship’, if you could call it that, was with a girl who tricked and betrayed him time after time and yet he loved her despite it all. maybe he has a type for the bad ones.

he loves you now. he knows he loves you. he knew he loved you when you once risked everything to save him, and he knew you loved him when you got very brutal revenge on his behalf. he kinda likes your violent side when it works in his favor.

but he still tries to keep you from doing the worst that he knows you’re capable of. he knows if he said more than a few words, or god forbid smiled at any of his friends who you thought ‘wanted him’ (because why does literally everyone want to fuck him?) you’d lose it. he tries to keep your temper contained, so he plays nice, though it’s worth it to him.

to have someone want him so badly that they’d kill for him and do anything to keep him… the idea makes leon’s knees weak. he’d do anything to feel wanted and needed for you. the more you claim him as yours, marking your territory, the more butterflies he feels in his stomach.

you tell someone, “he’s mine, so either back off or i swear that i will fucking rip out your teeth one by one.” he watches them run away pitifully, before turning his attention back to you. you’re smiling at him, and bring your hand up to play with his hair.

“sorry you had to see that, know you don’t like it,” you say softly.

he brushes it off, because he always does. he knows you mean well (even if you don’t). he knows you only threaten others or act violently because you love him and he needs that love. besides, you’re so thoughtful for apologizing because you know he doesn’t like seeing this side of you (which is not entirely true but he did feel bad for that person).

one day, you stumble upon him in your shared room while he’s crying. he tells you it’s okay, it happens, he’s learned how to get through it by himself. you shake your head, noting that this obviously isn’t okay. you sit next to him on the bed, wrapping your arms around him, and you two sit like that for just a moment.

“you’re okay,” your voice stills the air, brings him back to reality, “you’re not in danger, and i’m gonna be here to protect you, okay? i’m here because i care about you, so let me care for you, baby.”

he nods with tears in his eyes, resting his head on your shoulder. he’s forgotten what it feels like for someone to really care, to hold him and tell him he was going to be alright.

after a moment, he’s able to get his breathing under control.

“thank you…” he whispers.

“of course, baby, i’m here for you. i’m always gonna be here for you, i care about you so, so much, leon. no one else will ever care for you the way i do, as much as i do,” you murmur, and he doesn’t seem to notice something glaringly wrong with what you just said.

he doesn’t notice the thoughts swirling around in your head, adoring how fragile he is right now, wanting him to always be like this so he’s always this vulnerable, this dependent on you. he can’t notice any of it. he just lets you hold him, and holds you back in return.

you hold each other until he starts to pull away first, rubbing his teary eyes with the back of his hand, “god, i- i’m sorry. jeez, nothing even set it off. one minute i- i was fine! and the next…” he trails off, and you tell him he’s okay. he’s allowed to be vulnerable and emotional with you. you like him like this anyway. or maybe you just like the way his blue eyes shine when he cries.

and you’re wayyy too overpowering just as a person for him to ever be in charge, especially in bed. sometimes it’ll be soft, just two lovers touching and fondling each other, gasping and moaning and kissing wherever possible. but sometimes your possessive side comes out. it happens the most when he does something you don’t like, i.e. ‘flirting’ with someone else (he was just talking and joking around).

he does like your possessive side though. he likes being pinned down, and if you think you’re not strong enough, trust me, you can put yourself in the right position to make it so he can’t get out from under you. or you could just handcuff him or tie him up, that always works, but there is just something about being physically held down and kissed until his brain shuts off that makes him into a perfect fucktoy.

he likes when you pull out a marker and write stuff like ‘mine <3’ or ‘property of y/n’ on him. especially if it’s with a permanent marker and in a place that people can easily see, on his wrist or neck. he feels claimed, owned, a sense of being property belonging to someone else, not himself.

despite loving your darkness, leon appreciates that you’re rather… soft on him. you take it slow so he has time to adjust, make his heart jump with love and affection every single time you praise him (which you do often bc how could you not? it’s leon, c’mon now) he knows you have it in you to be harder, to fully degrade and humiliate him if you really wanted to. you choose not to.

one day you come home, covered in what he can assume is not your blood. his stomach drops at the thought of what you did, and he goes through every possible interaction he had that day that could have made you do something so drastic, so terrible and cruel. he comes up with nothing.

“what… happened?” he asks, nervously. he tries to keep distance between his body and yours, but you’re closing in on him.

“killed two birds with one stone… literally…” you smirked as he takes a cautious step back, feeling what used to be butterflies in his stomach turn to this heavy sense of dread, “that girl that told you your eyes were ‘so pretty’ and… that guy that touched your arm like he wanted to fucking bite it. don’t worry, sweetheart. i took care of them.”

were you expecting him to thank you? for… committing murder? he’s… at best he’s disappointed and at worst he’s literally horrified.

and it’s terribly timed, but on a separate note? you look insanely hot covered in blood. maybe the feeling in his stomach is only half fear and half something else, or maybe one of his kinks is being afraid for his life. who knows?

you come closer to him, and he can’t find it in himself to ask you to stop approaching him, closing in on him like a predator does it’s prey, “baby,” you murmur to him, softly like you do when you’re soothing him when he’s crying, your hands both coming up to cup his face, getting blood all over his cheeks. your thumb brushes against his bottom lip and he swears you’re intentionally smearing blood on it, “it’s okay,” you say.

it’s not okay, dude. you just killed two people.

maybe you’ve killed more that leon doesn’t know about, and tonight was the night you felt like having him see you like this. you could have gotten away with it if you wanted to, and he would never have known, but you chose to let him find you like this, clothes ruined from how much blood splattered on them, that sadistic ass smile on your face.

you wanted this. you wanted him to see you like this. you wanted to take him like this.

you lean in, pressing a bloody kiss to his forehead (imagine whatever kinda scenario necessary that fits this height wise for u i’m sorry >.<) before leaning in to kiss his lips, both tasting the iron and feeling the wetness of the blood dripping down your chins as he touches you back gently, his hands caressing your arms as you hold him and landing softly on your hips, like he’s saying it’s okay, i accept you for the monster you are.

he knows it’s wrong, he knows he’s a good person and you’re not and there’s a clear line that you’ve brazenly crossed, but he can’t help the butterflies he gets when you’re the darkest, cruelest version of you. covered in blood and all, you want him. despite all his flaws, you want him. he can’t deny you, not when you’ve only ever soothed him when he has traumatized breakdowns and assured him that he’s more than just a weapon or a tool, that he’s loved and needed and wanted.

you press one of your legs between his thighs, forcing his legs open and he lets you, whining as you continue to kiss him, and your hand palms him over his jeans. he feels weak, cornered, and you know you’ve got him right where you want him when you lean to whisper in his ear, “mine.” and he whimpers pathetically, nodding fast as you kiss his neck just a couple times, gently and bloodily.

despite everything, you’re just so endlessly gentle with him that he can’t help but let you get away with this. maybe if he could just get the image of their faces out of his head, he could get over it. once you’ve made him cum three times in a row, his body on the brink of giving out on him, safe to say that’s when he finally forgets. he can’t really think much of anything.

“oh, sweet little thing, don’t you understand? i had to get rid of her, she wanted to get in the way of our love,” you say. and he’d just nod dazedly.

“o-okay,” he mumbles. his brain is foggy and your touch makes it hard to think, but if you say it’s true, then he’s inclined to believe you. clearly, you were doing the right thing by getting rid of her. obviously.

“and that poor boy, it’s too bad that he was a whore, wanted to grope your muscles so fucking bad, hm?” you smirk, “did you like it when he did that? when he touched you?”

“n-no, i-i only like when you do stuff like that to me,” he says he exactly what you want to hear, grasping onto you for support, knowing without you he’d fall apart, “please, i don’t care what you do or… or who you hurt because you love me! just please love me!”

“of course i’ll love you,” your tone softens, you take the victory with a smirk turned soft smile, brushing his hair out of his eyes behind his ear, “you’re so pretty when you’re obedient.”

conditional praise; truly the best way to manipulate him for example: “you’re such a good boy when you only look at me.” that’s his kryptonite, because leon thrives off of praise. being told he’s a good boy makes him giddy on the inside, even if he tries to control his reaction. praise is how you control him.

and after you’re done with him, you put your clothes in the washing machine, take a shower, and walk out like your normal self. he makes you both dinner and you cuddle him to sleep just like usual. though while you’re fast asleep, he lays awake, thinking about what just happened.

he’s always known this could happen, and maybe this isn’t even the first time you’ve killed someone because of him. he’s known for a while now that you’ve become cruel and violent when it came to his relationships with other people, but he can’t shake the feeling of fear deep inside his soul when he physically saw what you’re capable of.

even in your sleep, you touch is soothing to him, and he remembers that he doesn’t really have any better options. he’s convinced no one will ever love him as strongly as you do (not just because you’ve told him that but because again, he’s got low self esteem and you’re way nicer to him than he feels like he deserves).

does he just let you be? no, that wouldn’t sit right on his conscious. does he continue to try and curb your violent tendencies against his better judgement and morals?

or does he try to leave you? he thinks he knows you wouldn’t ever truly hurt him, and he wonders whether or not you’d let him leave if he tried. (he’s not going to, but he wonders...) he just… doesn’t see what else he would do. find someone else? they won’t love him like you do. be single? sure, and be miserable every day because all he can think about is your love, your touch, you.

“what do i do with you…” he mumbles to your sleeping form, resting his head against your chest, feeling the slow heartbeat pumping inside. he likes how it shows your humanity, your normalcy. the one thing about you that doesn’t feel so far away from him.

leon loves you. truly. he doesn’t want that fact to be overshadowed by how disproportionately and insanely you love him. he loves you, still cares about you, still wants to see you happy. you make him happy, in some ways, even if you really terrify him in others. you comfort him and soothe him, you assure him that he’s safe with he wakes up with nightmares from the horrors he’s seen.

he wants to care for you, wants to be the one to hold you when you’re sad and you’re having a bad day. somewhere deep inside his heart, he wants to protect you and keep you safe. even if he knows that’s absurd (because you’re a killer… god he can’t get over that..) he can’t help that his nature is to care for people. maybe that’s what drove you to such insanity in your love for him: in his heart, he never stopped caring about other people. he is the same selfless hero he always was. his softness and care for everyone around him is what made you fall for him… and what made you insane when it comes to your love for him.

despite how terrible you are, he remembers all that you’ve done for him, the moments where your softness and gentleness really showed. he loves that side of you the most. that’s the one he fell for, after all. but he’d be amiss to think that’s the only side of you, or to not acknowledge the other. your cruelty towards people other than him is a side of you just like your kindness towards him is a side of you. they coexist whether he likes it or not.

he comes to the conclusion that there is no sweet you without cruel you, and he must learn to love both or to love neither. he decides he’ll love both, but still maybe try to keep the evilness contained. maybe he can try to talk you out of killing more people.

and when he begs so pretty for you to focus on him and not on the girl trying to flirt with him at the coffee shop, how could you refuse him? if you pulling him away to suck dark, tender hickeys into his neck is the alternative to you killing that poor girl, then he’d say that’s a win-win.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

You know, I think Killer getting reunited with his brother after his escape with Color would be really interesting, whether it goes well or horribly wrong.

If it goes well, it would be really interesting to see how Something New Paps deals with Killer not really being his brother (though I am of the idea that he'd love Killer for Killer as well. I just also think it would mean him grieving his brother yet again. This time knowing he'll never have his brother back). It would also be cool to see how he'd get along with the Epic Sanses. I also really would love to see explored what his tentative new dynamic with Killer might be, and how that may change Killer's dynamic with the others too (would he be less codependent with Color with Paps in the picture? Or would he just become dependent on both?).

If it goes horribly, well, it would be interesting to see exactly how horribly. Would Killer panic enough to kill him again? How would he react to that after so long? Would Killer even believe that that's his brother? Would he just deny everything and turn away and then be haunted by the possibilities forever?

I just hhhhhhhh. I've been thinking about them so much. I've never see content about them explored, ever, and the possibilities are giving me brainrot

Yes! This is the stuff I want to see with killer from this fandom. Not more of the same! Let me watch these doomed siblings suffer or heal. The angst having to grief the person you never knew you lost while they’re right in front of you, looking at you, looking through you—only it’s something else with your loved one’s face. Uncanny valley im telling you.

I personally think Papyrus will have a difficult time actually accepting that his brother is gone. Hed subconsciously see signs in Killer—same smile, same twist of the corner of the mouth even if the nature of the smile is different from when Sans told an awful pun, because now Killer is smiling like that when he tells horrible stories he seems to think aren’t horrific at all.

I think how this reunion unfolds definitely depends on the exact situation. If Killer is still trapped under Nightmare or not, or if Color has rescued him.

And if Papyrus has any memory of what Killer did to him and everyone else—because Killer did spend years upon years murdering and horrifically torturing Papyrus and all the others as if they were nothing more than toys.

Killer could look at him, and all Papyrus could see is that empty, dead eyed look as he screams and cries while Killer breaks his bones. As if Killer didn’t recognize who Papyrus was, and if he didn’t care who he was.

And Papyrus, how his reactions during those times could’ve affected Killer. He was in unimaginable pain, terror, and confusion. Hatred and anger and spite are understandable reactions. What are some things he might’ve said to Killer during these moments that stuck with Killer? Begging and pleading, cursing and screaming? Attempting to get Sans to “remember who he is”?

As the world Reset around Killer, did others eventually start changing too? Even if only in small easily missed ways, even if they forgot by the next Reset. Chara and Killer were always in search of something new, after all.

Could Killer trust himself at all around Papyrus? Or would he immediately start thinking about how he has killed him before, how Papyrus could be here for revenge or even worse—for Sans.

Would some part of Killer despise Papyrus for being weak enough to forgive him, just like he always did for the human? Would Killer feel the need to kill Papyrus again—believing it’s what it has to do to prevent something even worse (Stage 4), or perhaps out of panic as you mentioned, or even that anger at Papyrus or just the unimaginable confusion and stress and pain that Papyrus’ presence brings (Stage 3).

Would Papyrus’ presence disjoint Killer’s “placement” in time.

Would seeing him make Killer think he’s back in the Underground with Chara, and thus Papyrus is another enemy he has to deal with. Would he be unable to accept that the Papyrus in front of him is his Papyrus, or would he think it’s just one Papyrus out of a gazillion more, and therefore not worth wasting energy on?

I can definitely see Stage 1 being reluctant to actually be around Papyrus. Not because he hates him or is disgusted by his “weakness” and not even because he thinks he has to kill Papyrus—although he’s very aware that some parts of him very likely do think those things—not only because he can’t trust his own mind, his own desires, but also because he just..feels horrible around Papyrus.

He idealized this image of Papyrus and the life he thinks they used to have, but he has changed. He has done a lot of things. He couldn’t even accept a hug from Papyrus for very long without pushing him away in tears. I think he’d definitely benefit from having his brother back in his life, although I doubt it’d be a very frequent thing.

I can see many instances where guilt, fear, and shame just leads to him trying to “hide” from his emotions in Stage 2, which leads to the usual avoidance behaviors. Which may also lead to him subconsciously blaming Papyrus for being able to have any effect on him at all—given how Stage 2 views it when situations and people are able to make him “feel” anything. As if they are attempting to control him.

So many interesting possibilities—especially given how much Papyrus may know. How much knowledge is he working off?

{ @stellocchia }

[ghostlynightpanda]

hello!!! this is gonna seem familiar but can u do one where reader only listens to a certain aib character? (so basically the reader having a friend that only listens to them except the reader only listens to an aib character)

AIB Characters react to Reader only listening to them

content/warnings: Ann, Kuina, Mira, Aguni, Niragi, Last Boss, Chishiya, canon typical blood and violence, 4.132 words

Ann

You met her in a game that should have killed you.

It was a Clubs game, some twisted puzzle in a half-flooded hotel. The kind of game where hesitation meant drowning, where allies turned on each other before the second round. You were new then—still trying to believe that this world was just some nightmare you could wake up from.

You misstepped. Trusted the wrong person. Got cornered on a submerged stairwell, the water rising past your chest. Your so-called teammates had already fled.

You would’ve died.

But then she appeared—calm, focused, precise.

Ann.

She didn’t say much. Just extended her hand, eyes steady. No urgency in her expression, but something solid behind it. You took her hand without thinking, and she pulled you free like it was nothing.

Afterward, she led you to the Beach. Said they could use more players who weren’t total liabilities. You knew you hadn’t impressed her with your skills. You figured she saw something else. Maybe potential. Maybe stubbornness.

You didn’t know it then, but something shifted in you that day.

From then on, it was simple.

You followed her.

Not like a lapdog, not mindlessly. But with a certainty you hadn’t felt in your whole time here.

Other people barked orders—especially once you were inside the Beach hierarchy. Aguni. Niragi. Hatter. They all talked like their words were law.

But their voices never reached you. Not really.

Only hers did.

When Ann said “Watch the perimeter,” you moved. When she said “Don’t trust this one,” you kept your distance. When she looked at you and simply nodded, you knew what she needed.

It wasn't about obedience—it was about belief.

Niragi noticed. At first, it amused him. He’d test you in little ways. Bark contradictory commands just to watch you ignore them.

“Hey. I said you’re covering the north wing, not hanging around Ann’s shadow.”

You didn’t reply.

“Getting off on being her pet or something?”

Still nothing.

It escalated. He didn’t like being disregarded. Not here, where power came from dominance and fear.

One day, after a mission went sideways, he cornered you behind the Beach’s storage wing, gun low at his side, finger on the trigger.

“You deaf, or just stupid?” he sneered. “I give you an order, and you look through me like I’m a ghost. One more time, and I’ll put a hole through your head, you get me?”

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t speak.

Because she hadn’t told you to. And you would’ve stood there, silent and still, even if he pulled the trigger. But he didn’t.

Because her voice cut through the tension like a blade. “Put the gun down, Niragi.”

She walked toward you with that cool steadiness that made people shut up without being told.

Niragi’s lip curled, but he lowered the weapon. “Tch. Control your little soldier, Ann.”

She stepped between you and him. “They don’t belong to me. But they don’t belong to you either.”

He left, but not without a glare. One that promised the issue wasn’t over.

That night, in the quiet between shifts, you were sitting with her on the Beach rooftop. The firelight from inside flickered through the windows below, distant voices blending into a low hum. Up here, it was quieter. Safer.

She didn’t look at you when she asked. “Why do you only listen to me?”

You thought about lying. Playing it off. Saying it was just tactical, that she was competent and you were just smart enough to know it.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you said, “Because you saved my life before I even proved I was worth the trouble.”

She was still.

You kept going. “You never lied to me. You never played games. Everyone else down there… they want control, power, loyalty they haven’t earned.”

You looked over at her then, and she met your gaze—quiet, unreadable, as always.

“But you… you don’t ask for anything. You just do what’s right. I trust that. I trust you.”

Something flickered in her expression. Almost surprise. Almost softness.

She nodded once, slowly, like she was filing the words away somewhere private.

Then she said, quietly, “Thank you.”

And for a second, her shoulder brushed against yours. Just enough to notice. Just enough to know it wasn’t an accident.

It was small. But in a world where trust was rare, where people died for less than a misstep—

That moment was everything.

Kuina

In Borderland, alliances didn’t mean much.

They could be traded, broken, killed off in the next game. But your alliance with Kuina was different. It wasn’t declared. It wasn’t negotiated. It simply was.

You met her during a difficult Hearts game—brutal and built to tear people apart. But she didn’t flinch when others turned on each other. She didn’t ask for loyalty. She earned it.

She watched your back. And you watched hers. It became unspoken.

Wherever she was, you were close behind. And wherever you stood, she knew you’d never let anyone get to her.

You didn’t follow orders. Not unless they came from her.

Chishiya noticed that early.

The three of you ended up working together more often than not. He was sharp, cold, unreadable. Kuina trusted him, and because of that, you tolerated him.

He talked to you sometimes, as if testing the boundaries.

“You should take that route instead,” he said once during a game—calculated voice, that smug smirk in place. “It’s a higher probability of survival.”

You met his gaze, then glanced at Kuina. She was still scanning the field, weighing options.

You didn’t move.

Chishiya raised a brow. “Not listening, huh?”

“I’m not yours to command,” you said plainly.

Later, Kuina nudged your shoulder with a grin. “You really don’t take orders from anyone but me?”

You smiled back. “Only one voice I follow.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile didn’t fade.

The games were getting harder. Face cards were soon to come. Fewer friends, more traps. Without the Beach, you were constantly moving, rarely resting. But you and Kuina stayed side by side. She didn’t need to ask. She knew you’d be there.

Chishiya remained close, his connection to Kuina pulling him into your circle. You shared meals, played cards, cracked dry jokes under broken moonlight, waiting for the next stage to start. You didn’t dislike him. He was smart. Useful. He didn’t waste words.

But when he said “Move up the west wing” during the King of Clubs game, you didn’t even blink.

Kuina called out moments later, “Change of plan—take the right side.”

You were already in motion before she finished the sentence.

Chishiya sighed dramatically behind you. “Incredible. You really are selectively obedient.”

You grinned. “You’re lucky I even talk to you.”

You and Kuina had a rhythm. You didn’t need constant communication. A look, a nod, a shared breath in tense moments—that was enough.

She never abused your loyalty. That was part of why you gave it so freely.

One night, after a narrow escape from the Jack of Spades game, you were sitting near a cracked window in an abandoned building. She was patching up a cut on her leg, you were cleaning your weapon. The city buzzed low in the distance, broken and half-alive.

“You ever wonder why you only listen to me?” she asked, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

You paused. “Not really.”

“No?”

You leaned back, giving her a rare bit of honesty. “Because you’ve never led me wrong. You think fast, fight smart, and don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

She snorted softly. “Sounds like admiration.”

You met her gaze, steady. “It is.”

She looked away for a second, and when she turned back, her smile was smaller. Quieter. “You know, most people here only look out for themselves.”

“I’m not most people,” you said.

“No,” she agreed, softer this time. “You’re not.”

The silence after was comfortable. Weighted with something unspoken, but not unwelcome.

She didn’t thank you. She didn’t need to.

Because the next time she said, “Watch my back,” you were already there.

Mira

She fascinated you the moment you saw her.

Mira Kano—smiling like the world was a game she already won. Wearing black like it meant something, eyes glinting with quiet madness beneath layers of charm. Most people didn’t know what to make of her. Some were drawn in, others kept their distance. 

You watched from the sidelines.

And she noticed you.

“Why so quiet?” she asked one evening at the Beach, swirling her wine in that slow, hypnotic way. “Everyone here is partying, but you—you watch.”

“I’m not interested in something like that,” you said.

She laughed—light and hollow at the same time. “Then what are you interested in?”

You met her gaze without fear. “Truth.”

That caught her attention.

She invited you to her side after that.

Not with grand gestures. Just slow, soft steps. Shared conversations under moonlight, whispered observations about the people around you, her voice always laced with mystery. She never asked for your loyalty outright. But she didn’t need to.

You gave it willingly.

And the strange part was—you knew better. You knew she could be dangerous. That beneath the smile and the softness lived something sharp and unrelenting. But you didn’t care.

You trusted her. Not because she was kind. But because she was honest—in her own, twisted way.

Mira didn’t pretend to be good. She only promised to be herself. In a world of liars, that was rare enough.

People warned you.

Chishiya looked at you once and said, “You realize there’s more to her than you can see, right?”

You didn’t blink. “That’s okay.”

Even Kuina gave you a subtle warning. “Just be careful. Mira plays a long game. She can twist people.”

“I’m not being twisted,” you replied. But even you weren’t sure if that was true.

You didn’t follow anyone’s orders—except hers.

Not Kuina’s, not Chishiya’s, not the ones barked out by remnants of the Beach council as it fractured.

But if Mira so much as tilted her head and said, “Would you fetch something for me?”—you were already moving.

She never needed to raise her voice. Never demanded. She simply asked—and you obeyed.

Not because you were afraid. But because some part of you wanted to.

One day, she tested it.

“You won’t listen to anyone else, will you?” she asked, voice a lullaby wrapped in curiosity. “Not even your friends?”

“No.”

Her eyes sparkled, pleased.

“So if I asked you to betray them… would you?”

You didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched like a blade between you.

She stepped closer, so close you could hear the shift in her breath. “I wouldn’t ask something so cruel,” she whispered, smile delicate. “Not unless I was sure you loved me more than them.”

You exhaled. “Then it’s a good thing I don’t love anyone.”

Her smile widened. “Except me?”

Another silence. A longer one. “I trust you,” you said finally. “Even if I shouldn't.”

That was all she needed.

Another night, she found you sitting alone on the roof—back resting against the cold concrete, eyes tracking the stars shining bright above you.

She sat beside you without asking. “Do you have an idea what the next game could be? Only the Ten of Hearts is missing,” she asked.

“I don’t know. We’ll see.”

“Do you think I’ll betray you? Lie to you?”

“I know you will.”

She looked over at you, genuinely curious. “And you’ll still listen to me?”

“…Yes.”

A soft laugh escaped her lips. Not mocking—moved. “You really are a strange one.”

“You’re the only voice that matters to me,” you said. And it was the truth.

Even if it destroyed you.

Aguni

The Beach ran on illusion.

Hatter gave the speeches, smiled like he was building a kingdom. The executives played politics, shifting loyalties like poker hands. Everyone wanted power, or at least protection. You watched it all with quiet detachment, knowing the paradise was one wrong move from falling apart.

But Aguni—he didn’t pretend.

He didn’t waste words or sell dreams. He stood in the background, a shadow with a rifle, letting others wear the crown while he bore the weight of its consequences.

You noticed that.

The first time you saw him make a call—quick, brutal, and clean—you knew he was the one who truly kept the Beach standing.

It was during a raid. A Five of Spades game brought you outside the Beach walls. Someone panicked. A group tried to run, abandoning others mid-strategy.

One of the runners was your partner for that game.

Aguni didn’t hesitate. He stopped the deserters before they could cost more lives. Made the call no one else was willing to. When it was over, no one said thank you. They looked at him like a monster.

But you saw it differently.

That night, you found him sitting alone, cleaning his weapon in silence.

“You saved everyone,” you said.

He looked up, gaze steady but unreadable. “No. I made the call that had to be made.”

“Same thing,” you replied.

From that moment, you were his.

You didn’t say it out loud—not at first. You just started showing up where he was. Took assignments when he took them. Followed his lead in games without question. You didn’t care what Hatter said. The moment Aguni gave a command, you moved.

It didn’t take long for people to notice.

“You listening to the wrong executive,” one of them said, sneering after a strategy meeting where you flat-out ignored Hatter’s orders.

You didn’t bother responding.

If it didn’t come from Aguni, it didn’t matter. He didn’t ask for your loyalty. Didn’t need it.

But one day, after another close-call game, he finally said something.

“You don’t follow orders unless they come from me.”

You nodded. “Because you don’t make decisions for show.”

He held your gaze for a long moment. “That kind of trust can get you killed.”

“Maybe,” you said. “But if I go out, I’d rather it be following someone who does what needs to be done.”

He grunted quietly, something like respect in his expression.

After that, he let you closer.

When the Beach started breaking—Hatter unraveling, the hierarchy splintering—you stayed at Aguni’s side.

Even when people started whispering about coups, about power struggles.

They asked you who you were loyal to and you didn’t answer. But your presence at Aguni’s right side said enough.

One night, you were both standing at the balcony overlooking the pool. The place looked peaceful—almost like the lie it wanted to be. But his shoulders were tense, jaw clenched like he was already preparing for the weight of tomorrow.

“You think we’ll survive this place?” you asked.

“Some of us.”

“You?”

He didn’t answer right away. Then: “Only if I keep making the hard calls.”

You looked at him—scarred, weathered, steady.

“You’re the only one I’d follow into hell,” you said simply. And you meant it.

He looked over at you, the faintest trace of something softer beneath the hard lines of his face. 

“I know.”

Niragi

Rules didn’t mean much in this world.

Not when the people giving them out were already bleeding inside. Not when fear and ambition drove every so-called leader to preach survival while clinging to their own illusions of power.

Hatter spoke like he was building a society. Ann acted like the voice of reason. Mira wore masks with a smile.

You didn’t care about any of them.

Just like he didn’t.

Niragi never pretended. He didn’t dress his madness in silk or civility. He burned through the world like a fire that no one could contain—unapologetic, violent, dangerous.

He didn’t follow orders. He took them from only one person—Aguni.

And you? You didn’t even do that.

You ignored everyone. Even Aguni.

Except him.

Only him.

People thought you were crazy.

“You’re wasting yourself,” Ann said once, sharp eyes trying to understand you. “Niragi’s unstable. He’s going to get you killed.”

Maybe.

But you still followed him into every game, every mission, every reckless firestorm he dragged himself into. And you did it without question.

He noticed, of course. Niragi wasn’t stupid, he was far from it. Just unpredictable.

“You don’t listen to anyone,” he said one day, licking blood off his fingers after a game gone ugly. “Not Hatter, not Ann, not even Aguni. But me?” He tilted his head at you, smirking. “You come running the second I lift a finger.”

You didn’t flinch. “Because you don’t pretend. You say what you want and you take it. You’re real.”

That answer lit him up. “Real, huh?” he echoed, like it was the first compliment he’d ever believed. “That’s one word for it.”

He started testing you after that.

Giving you commands just to see if you’d follow them.

“Stand over there.” You did.

“Don’t help them.” You didn’t.

“Pick that guy off before he runs.” You pulled the trigger.

No hesitation. No questions.

It wasn’t about fear. You weren’t afraid of Niragi.

You just… believed in him. Even if it didn’t make sense. Even if it was reckless. Even if the whole world said he was too far gone.

He was strong. He survived. He did what had to be done. In this place, that counted for more than anything.

He leaned into it. Started ordering you around more brazenly. Taking pride in it. When people questioned him, tried to overrule him, he just laughed.

“Don’t bother,” he said once, throwing an arm over your shoulders. “They only listen to me. Isn’t that right?”

You nodded.

He grinned like a devil with a crown. Like having your loyalty was his personal badge of power.

And maybe it was. But you didn’t mind.

You weren’t stupid. You knew Niragi was a maniac.

Unstable. Unrelenting. Cruel when he wanted to be. But he didn’t lie. He didn’t pretend to be anything but what he was.

That made him worth following.

In a world this rotten, honesty wrapped in violence was still honesty. And if that came with fire and blood?

So be it.

“You’re out of your mind, you know,” he said once, after a night soaked in red and smoke. His voice was low, almost thoughtful. “I could tell you to burn this place down, and you’d probably do it.”

You stared at him, steady. “You already know the answer.”

He stared back, lips twitching into a smirk. Then a laugh. “Damn right you would.” He stepped closer, eyes gleaming with twisted satisfaction.

“Good.”

Last Boss

Words lost their meaning in this world.

Everyone was talking—about plans, safety, trust, survival. The louder they were, the less they meant. Hatter sold dreams, Mira smiled through lies, and even Aguni had begun to bark commands to keep the order from unraveling.

But you… you stopped listening a long time ago.

Except for him.

Last Boss.

He didn’t shout. Didn’t scheme. He just was—a shadow in the room, watching while others played their roles. Most people feared him. Some called him a lunatic because of the way he moved, the way his silence hung like smoke around him.

But you saw something different.

You saw the calm.

While others cracked under pressure or chattered to cover their panic, Last Boss stood steady. He didn’t talk to assert control. He didn’t need to. When something was wrong, he knew. When it mattered, he acted.

And that was enough for you.

It started simple.

In the games, you stayed near him—not clinging, not needy. Just there. Moving when he moved. Waiting when he waited. People questioned it. They didn’t understand.

“You don’t even know if he’s going to protect you,” someone said once.

You shrugged. “He hasn’t let me die yet.”

And that was more than most could say.

You never needed him to speak.

It was his stillness you trusted—the weight of his presence, the way his eyes tracked everything like he already saw the outcome. He wasn’t loud, but he was present. Focused. Controlled.

That was what made you follow him blindly. Because in a world where everyone talks, the only truth left is in the ones who don’t.

And when he did speak—rarely, quietly, with purpose—you listened like it was law. Because if Last Boss opened his mouth to say something, it meant something.

One night at the Beach, when tension rippled through the halls like static, you were sitting near the edge of the rooftop, knees tucked up, eyes watching the world blur below. He approached silently, as he always did.

He didn’t say a word. Just stood near you, arms folded, eyes on the moon.

You didn’t look at him, didn’t need to.

After a long while, he finally spoke. “Don’t go with them tomorrow.”

Just five words. That was it.

You stood up without hesitation. “Okay.” No questions. No explanation needed.

If he said it, you listened.

Later, someone asked you why you always obeyed him of all people.

“He barely speaks,” they said, half-laughing. “You don’t even know what he’s thinking.”

You met their gaze and said, “Exactly.” That’s why you trusted him.

Because people who talk all the time—they spin stories, manipulate, lie.

But silence? That’s honest. If someone saves their voice, it’s because they only use it when it matters.

And his voice—when it came—was the only one that ever did.

Chishiya

You stopped pretending you cared about survival a long time ago.

This world—this twisted apocalyptic world—took too much from you. Stripped away everything that gave life meaning. Family. Friends. Future. All gone in the shuffle of suits and blood-soaked games.

Now? You didn’t play to win.

You just… moved. And you moved when he moved.

Chishiya.

He wasn’t kind. He didn’t make promises. He never offered hope.

But he saw things others didn’t. The tiniest cracks in people. The strategies beneath chaos. The patterns hiding in bloodshed.

He wasn’t a leader, not in the traditional sense—but if he told you to do something, it wasn’t a guess. It was a calculation. A precise move in a larger game.

And you followed it. Every time.

“You’re not seriously putting your life in his hands,” Ann had said once, trying to read your expression. “He wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice anyone if it served his goal.”

You didn’t argue.

She wasn’t wrong.

Chishiya was selfish. Detached. A tactician who saw people as pieces—valuable when useful, disposable when not.

But you had nothing left to lose.

And in a world where everyone screamed about loyalty, survival, and friendship, at least he never lied about what he was. That made him more honest than most.

You weren’t blind. You knew your trust in him was reckless.

Sometimes, you looked at him and wondered if this was what cults felt like—mindless devotion, waiting for a signal.

But it wasn’t like that.

You didn’t follow Chishiya because he made you feel something. You followed him because he made sense.

And because if you had to die in this world, you'd rather do it on his terms—executing a strategy that meant something—than in another pointless game with people pretending to care.

“Why do you always follow me?” he asked one night, out of nowhere. His tone wasn’t mocking, just mildly curious.

You didn’t answer right away. The two of you were seated across from each other in a dark hallway of the Beach, the world oddly quiet for once.

You looked up at him. “Because you’ll always make the smartest call. Even if it kills me.”

His eyes held yours for a moment longer than usual. Then he looked away. “I wouldn’t expect anyone else to be okay with that.”

“I’m not like anyone else.”

He huffed something that might have been amusement. “Clearly.”

You didn’t know if your trust in him was mutual. You didn’t need it to be.

But sometimes, he’d pause before sending you into danger. Sometimes, he’d offer you a rare look—quiet, unreadable—as if weighing something more than just logic. As if your loyalty wasn’t just another move on the board.

Maybe he saw something in you.

Or maybe not.

But you saw something in him—beneath the cool smirk and smug intellect. A ghost of a person who once cared about more than winning.

And that was enough.

If your trust in him cost you your life? So be it.

Because you weren’t just placing your bets on Chishiya the strategist.

You were placing them on the man beneath the mask—the one who, despite everything, might still be capable of letting someone in.

Even just a little.

[theamityelf]

i am eating and chewing your yandere content, its so good, i love it so so much, if youre still taking requests maybe some yandere mukuro and naegi? I always think there's a lot of potential there but there's not a lot of content for it

Oh, I love it. I need to pick what time period I'm going with...

----

It didn't take much.

A smile, a greeting. Asking about her opinions and experiences. The time he asked if she needed help carrying her bag (and she had to run away because if he came any closer he would notice the smell of blood coming from inside it), the time he asked her if she was coming to lunch (and she blushed so badly, Junko later said her face looked like one big zit). Or maybe it was nothing to do with her at all; maybe it was because of how he was with everyone else, or how they were with him.

Maybe it was even as simple as the fact that she was used to traveling light, used to picking a few things she could carry and disregarding everything else.

She could carry him easily.

"Uh, Mukuro?" he said. "Are you okay?"

Right, she'd been staring. He'd taken the time to ask her if she wanted to join his group for ice cream after school, and she was being weird.

How embarrassing. She was definitely blushing again, now.

Well, it wasn't like that mattered. She was weird. She was socially inept and ugly and useless, and none of that mattered. Because the world was going to end soon, anyway. Maizono or Kirigiri could take him to a school dance, but Mukuro could pull him from the school before it turned into a warzone.

"Go on without me," she finally said. "I need to discuss something with Junko."

"Oh, okay. See you tomorrow!" Makoto and his friends vacated the classroom, leaving only...the 'despair sisters'.

Junko was sitting in her seat, filing her nails. Mukuro walked over to her and just stood there, waiting to be acknowledged. There was no doubt that her sister already knew everything she was feeling. She always did.

"Well?" Junko eventually said, her eyes meeting Mukuro's with cool amusement. "Are you too scared to ask, or do you just love wasting my time, skank?"

"I'm not scared," Mukuro answered. She did have a heightened awareness of the seriousness of this situation, but what she felt wasn't fear. "And...I'm also not asking."

"Gadzooks! Could it be that the worm has grown a spine?!"

"He can easily be spared from the plan. We don't need him in order to do what we intend to do."

"No sh!t, dumb*ss! The despair doesn't kick in when it's fvcking necessary!"

"The despair doesn't kick in if the plan doesn't happen, either." Mukuro's fingernails bit into her palms, as she forcibly steeled her tone and held her sister's gaze. She'd never threatened disobedience like that before. "You have everyone else in the class. You have me. You don't need him. Really, for a guy like him to keep his memories and watch them die that way...it would be more despairful than losing his memories and getting killed in the first or second round without understanding anything."

"So. You're suggesting he languishes in the data center while the killing game plays out, then you collect him in your nasty little arms once it's all over? Once the world is in ashes and there's no one else to love but you?"

"Essentially, yes."

Junko's lips curved. "And what's your contingency plan for how he'll react to knowing your designs for him?"

"He won't know about it until it happens."

And Junko's expression went blank, as though she found Mukuro's answer terribly boring. She rolled her eyes. "Fvcking atrocious. I can't even hint with you. Hey, Ultimate Soldier. You didn't secure your perimeter. Kind of a rookie mistake, dontcha think?"

"What?"

She dipped her head to the side, indicating a desk a few seats away where a familiar composition book lay open. "He forgot his notebook, smart*ss."

Mukuro wheeled around and heard a gasp from the doorway, and then retreating footsteps.

She broke into a sprint. Naturally, she was able to catch him, hand-gag him, and drag him into an unoccupied classroom before he could even think to yell.

Makoto's ineffectual squirming, his kicking and his elbowing, his growling and his vain attempts to speak...Mukuro was sure that she was blushing again, as she allowed more of her body to touch his than was strictly necessary to subdue him.

She was restricting his airflow, so he was going to pass out very shortly. And then she would have to contend with her sister. But for now...

"H-Hi," she said awkwardly, as he struggled in her arms. "Um, sorry. Sorry that I, uh...If I'd known that this would happen, I would've laid down a rug here. And maybe worn some perfume. I mean, I guess you can't breathe anyway..."

Fortunately, Makoto lost consciousness before she could say anything else.

She let go of him, so she could watch him slide out of her arms and rest on the tiles, all helpless. She took stock of what he must have overheard. Jeez, she must have sounded like such a pathetic, lovesick...

She heard Junko coming before the door moved. Immediately, she positioned herself defensively in front of him. Her sister was not allowed to kill him. That was the one thing in the world she wasn't allowed to do.

"Well, this is a clusterfvck, isn't it?" Junko deadpanned. "I guess not much of a cluster. It's just him. This one tripping hazard of a guy. I could just bite his little cheeks."

"I've never asked you for anything. Just him."

"Au contraire! You're not asking, remember? Where did that spine go? Did your body reabsorb it?"

"I-"

"This is boring. Take him to your dorm room, keep him there. I'll figure out what to do about this, as always. Can you manage an iota of stealth this time, you troll?"

Mukuro's heart soared. "Yes. Thank you."

"Oh, shut up. Out of my sight."

She princess-carried him to her room.

----

(I thought about making Kyoko the one who overheard, but the outcome there would be too similar to the Yandere Taka one.)

[satuguro]

*ೃ࿐ BLUE MONDAY

[ ACT III: KNOWING, WANTING ]

ethan landry x reader

#SYNOPSIS— you facetime someone first and you hate it, ethan can't tell when you're joking or serious, and you really hate richie's style.

#CONTAINS— murder!, gore!!!!, satire (!!), familial issues (implications of abuse), mentions of anxiety/ptsd, richie x reader (heavily one sided), stalker behavior!, fake dating, richie (yes, he needs his own warning), suggestive content

#AUTHORSNOTE— i'm so sorry for such a late update and the lack of activity on my blog, my mental health took such a plummet.

ACT I, ACT II, ACT III

the low hum of the computers in the radio studio and the soft sound of music paying through the control room speakers were the only sounds you heard as you spun around in your chair. a clean spotify playlist— something you weren't supposed to technically use for radio, but your station manager used it, so who cares? — played soft music on air as you waited patiently for your last song to end.

humming softly to yourself, you scrolled mindlessly through social media, taking in the last few days of relaxation you had until you finally began with you and ethan's little plan.

reluctantly date richie. gather information. get the fuck out and give it to the police.

and if all else fails? well, you'd kill him (something ethan was surprisingly not that disturbed with. talk about sibling rivalry.).

you hadn't spoken to either of them ever since sunday, when you and ethan formulated your little plan at an aesthetically pleasing botanical cafe.

the music came to a slow end, and you paused the playlist before turning on your mic. "that was my last song of the night. remember; variety hour with blackmore university radio's music manager— which is me, if you've been paying attention —is every thursday from 9 to 10. good night, new york." and with that, you returned the radio on auto play, allowing it to bleed into a few promos.

the radio and studio office was dark at this point, lacking any form of life other than you. with an entire radio station being led only by college students, it was common for everyone to be gone by the time 6 pm hit.

but you were a bit of a masochist. so here you were, doing your mandatory radio show in the ambiently lit studio and office of your station. it smelled of soft lavender from the plug-in wall scent one of your co-workers put up, and the only lights came from the lamps and soft yellow light that was put in to replace the fluorescent white that you swore made days go by longer.

your headphones were over your ears, one of them pushed back behind your ear to allow yourself to hear the outside world (you had to be cautious nowadays). pulling your tote bag over your shoulder, you locked the studio door behind you and closed up the station. and as you walked down the dimly lit stairs to the exit, you half listened to the echoing of your footsteps as you shut the door behind you.

fall was your favorite season. not just for the fact that the weather was a perfect mix of not too hot and not too cold, or that it was the last few months before you fell deep into procrastination due to the lack of sunshine, but it was because it was always so beautiful. red and browns, yellows and oranges, all painted on once-green leaves before they fell.

the crunching of the leaves below your feet as you began to walk back to your dorm was soothing behind the autumn playlist (which you had carefully curated, of course) you were listening to. and it would've gone on like that for the entire walk home. the same walk you did every thursday without fail, when barely anyone was out and about on campus and when it was only you and whatever weather there was that evening.

but you could feel someone watching you.

as though someone had poured water down your back, your skin prickled and the hair on your body stood up as your walking suddenly came to a stop. pushing your headphones down around your neck, you dared to look behind you.

nothing. nothing but the darkness of the rest of the campus, barely lit by the flickering street lamps. the light from the lamp you were standing next to bled into nothingness, revealing practically nothing to your eyes.

your hands dug into your pockets as you grabbed your phone, swallowing thickly as you dared to stare deeper into the night. deeper into the darkness you stared.

and then you dared to turn back ahead of you, walking with a stride quicker than how you usually walked. step by step, shoes crunching in the leaves as you briskly walked, keeping your chin up in faux confidence, as though you weren't hearing another pair of footsteps walking in the same exact pace you were.

and then you came to a sudden halt.

and you heard the extra footstep from someone that certainly wasn't you.

and you began to walk faster. step. step. step. feeling those heartless and emotionless eyes staring in to the back of your head much like you had stared at the back of your father's head. hungry. blood thirsty. desperate to feel the warm crimson on your skin.

you could hear them breathe. heavy and warm, excited and thrumming with adrenaline because it felt as though you were paying attention to them. you were finally reacting to them in the way they wanted you to; by running away in fear.

you pulled out your student id card, slamming it against the card reader before opening the door to your dorm building and shutting it behind you, chest heaving as you tried to compose yourself.

you went to the elevator, slamming on the button to get you up to your dorm room.

your feet walked briskly on the hallway as you made a beeline for your dorm room, hands trembling as you found yourself disassociating, barely showing any emotion at all if it weren't for your shaking hands. but as you were pulling out your key, you saw the flower on the ground.

lilies of the valley. your favorite.

looking up and down the hall, you grabbed it hastily and you unlocked the door, shutting it behind you and letting out a breath. staring down at the flowers, you pulled out a single note with a heart drawn on it in crimson red ink.

"fuck," you breathed, shaking your head as you walked into your room and locked it behind you, throwing the lilies into the trash as you swallowed thickly.

who else could have done this? who else in your life was most likely to follow you like a predator stalking its prey, waiting for the perfect moment to strike?

richie.

he was stalking you. richie was fucking stalking you.

you grabbed your phone, scrolling before you found a contact, clicking facetime on it and waiting patiently as you tried to clam the harsh beating of your chest. once, it rang. then twice. then three times, and you almost reached over to hang up, if it weren't for the face that the little sound came out of your phone speaker, signaling that he actually picked up.

"hello?" ethan said, his face squished by his pillow as he peered into the phone screen. "you actually called me. i never took you for a facetime person, but uh—"

"is richie there?" you hissed, almost scared to raise your voice as you paced your room frantically. your hands moved on their own as you took your ring off of your finger and began to run it over your knuckles.

back and forth. back and forth.

"no, i don't think so— what's going on?" ethan sat up in his bed, voice hushed low as he looked down at you. you were moving— he could see it —and he looked haphazard as he stared at you through the phone. protectiveness striked at his chest again as ethan gripped his phone tighter. "y/n, what's going on?"

"ethan, he's stalking me," you hissed, panic evident in your tone as you tried to compose yourself.

back and forth. back and forth.

"i— i was walking home from work and i swear to god, e, it was him. and he probably left these fucking flowers at my door too." you flipped the phone camera to show ethan the trashed flowers. "i'm not having second thoughts or anything, but if i have to deal with his stalking it's honestly just gonna be a pain in my ass—"

"you're not having second thoughts?" ethan ran a stressed hand through his hair, breathing out a heavy exhale. "jesus, y/n, if i were you i wouldn't even pull through with this shit."

"good thing you're not me then, huh?" you swallowed thickly, walking to your bed and throwing yourself onto it, letting your back hit your mattress. raising your phone so that ethan could see your face clearly.

you hated facetiming people.

"okay, that's all," you stated, as though letting him know that his brother was a stalker was just the most casual thing in the world. "i'm hanging up now."

"w—wait!" ethan said hurriedly right before your finger pressed the bright red button. face dusted light pink, ethan looked over your (once again) unreadable face. "can we.. stay on call?"

"no." you blinked. "why would we?"

"because i'm basically sleeping in an apartment with a stalker-murderer!" ethan hissed, voice coming down to a harsh whisper as the sound of the apartment door opening and closing rang in his ears. "i don't want to be, like, attacked in my sleep or something."

"he's not gonna attack you when quinn is there," you stated bluntly, finger still hovering over the big red button. "even if he does suspect something. you'll be fine." and you almost pressed the red button again. almost.

"y/n," ethan groaned, letting his free hand cover his face. you were so stubborn, so brutally honest, and yet ethan found himself not even minding it as he practically pleaded for you to just stay on call with him. "just.. just stay with me for a bit, okay? promise you can hang up once i fall asleep."

you narrowed your eyes at him. "do i look like a guard dog to you?"

"you basically act like one."

you stared at ethan, practically challenging him silently as he stared right back at you with those warm hazel eyes. "please?" he added, making you suck in a breath as you huffed.

"..fine."

an appreciateive smile spread on the boy's face as you set your phone down, murmuring a half hearted, "i'll be back," as you went to do your skincare routine and get ready for bed. "don't die," you added before you shut your room door behind you.

bad joke.

you washed your face, letting your hands move slowly down your face as you let out a long sigh, feeling your continuously tense shoulders relax. staring at yourself in the mirror, you found your face blurring into the background, melting into your bathroom walls, features seeping into the tile, melting into the grout.

you stared at yourself in the reflective one way mirror, face blank, pupils constricted as your reflection stared back at you. it felt like you were floating far above your head, unable to anchor yourself in the present.

the voice of the detective felt like someone was speaking to you from underwater. his voice was so garbled, so muffled, you could barely comprehend it. “y/n. you have to at least say something.”

but what was there to say? that you mashed up your father’s brain and liked it? that was a bit straightforward. and only a little bit too guilty.

what were you doing? you were putting yourself into the same position you were in those few years ago; a position of danger, playing a victim just to feel the satisfaction of watching someone’s life melt from their face. and that satisfaction didn’t come with any kind of remorse, because it took a special kind of person to make you want to see their brains on the outside rather than the inside.

you were regressing. maybe you really weren’t over what had happened to you. maybe you never would be, and you felt tour skin prickle at the thought, your hands gripping the sides of your sink as you stared at your mirror.

“your mother says you were protecting her.” the detective leaned in, putting his arms on the table in front of you both. his gaze weighed heavy on you, and you could feel him scan you like a file; taking in how expressionless you were, how even after everything that had happened, you didn’t shed a single tear. “was your father abusive, y/n?”

and that made your eyes snap towards his, cold and cunning, staring at him, unblinking. but if you peers too closely, focused too much on the emotion behind your eyes, the exhaustion of living, you could see that you had every reason to feel nothing for what you had done. you had every fucking reason to smash your father’s head in.

the door to your bedroom shut behind you as you walked back into your room, throwing your shirt over your head and grabbing one to sleep in. "hello?" ethan's voice came through your phone, your breath hitching when you realized he waited on call the entire time while you disassociated in the bathroom. just another day.

"hey." you made yourself comfortable in your bed, hands coming together under your head as you laid it down on your pillow, staring at your phone right next to your bed. an awkward silence followed for nearly five minutes, the only sounds coming from your breathing and ethan's mild shuffling. your eyes had fallen shut as you listened to ethan's breathing through the speaker.

"are you scared, y/n?"

the question, the sudden break of silence didn't make you move. you only kept your eyes shut, silently manifesting for the sweet arms of sleep to clamp around you. you hummed in response, pretending to think, but you knew how you felt. how this exact situation made you feel like you were 16 again, killing your own flesh and blood for just an ounce of freedom.

you hadn't broken at the seams yet. you were still here, breathing, eyes shut, on a phone with some boy you had taught how to smoke only a few days ago.

that's what mattered.

"are you?" you asked, dodging the question easily.

".. yeah." ethan sighed, the sound loud through your phone (he needed to move away from the phone just a bit, but you didn't feel like telling him that yet). from his side, he laid on his back on his bed, eyes set on the white ceiling above him as he spoke to you, someone emotionally stunted (he would never say that out loud, a it would be hypocritical of him to do so), about how he was feeling. "i think i've always been scared. of richie, i mean."

you stayed silent, your eyes slowly opening as you looked at your phone. the waver in ethan's voice, the way he almost felt ashamed to tell you how he felt.. he was being genuine. "what has richie done to you? to make you scared of him, i mean."

ethan's jaw clenched, eyes unblinking towards his ceiling. staring. gathering memories he had tried so desperately to forget, but every time he saw richie's face, he could only remember them. "he was always the more popular one. him and quinn— i was like.."

"a nerd."

"rude, but true." ethan sighed slowly. "one time, during middle school, i snitched to my dad that richie had brought a girl into our house —he was in high school, mind you —and i couldn't sleep because they had been fucking in his room. and that lack of sleep made me late. my dad doesn't like it when we're late." he breathed in shakily. "a few days later, after my robotics club, i was walking home and a bunch of high school kids drove up next to me and, uh..."

your brows furrowed. ".. beat you up?"

"yup." ethan popped the 'p', breathing in deeply before exhaling again. "and i saw him. richie. sitting in the back seat of the car just watching as these teenagers more than half my size beat me up to a pulp. and he smiled at me. as though i deserved to have my torso bruised and my face slammed on the concrete in the 7th grade." ethan chuckled humorlessly, his laughter quickly fading. "point is.. he always gets what he wants."

he sounded so.. defeated. years and years of being tormented by your own blood made him so afraid to speak up; to the point where he didn't even feel like doing so anymore.

you didn't know how to respond.

".. you're still up for killing him?" you asked, voice slightly unsure due to the fact that ethan had just casually spilled some of his trauma over the phone to you, who was half asleep and barely coherent at this point.

"i wish it didn't have to be this way—"

"no you don't."

"what?" ethan blinked, brows knotting together in confusion as he looked at his phone in disbelief over your words.

"you don't mind that it went this way. because you hate him." you sounded so factual. so casual, as though the entire situation was a case you could easily dissect and observe from a far. "and he's done a lot of shit to you and others. the people he's killed. the people he's manipulated. people like richie don't deserve anything." your words became sour, laced with the poison from the past.

"how do you do that?" ethan asked you.

"do what?"

"be so calm in this situation. this is dangerous shit— y/n, you're willingly putting yourself in danger."

you swallowed hard, weighing your words in your head. "it's because i don't want anyone else to die like his victims did. and i," you blinked, "i want to get them their revenge."

"by killing him?"

"if i have to." a beat. "are you still okay with that?"

was he okay with that?

ethan didn't know. he had been walking through the entire week as though he was nothing more than a ghost— eating and drinking to survive, speaking only when spoken to, living his days out of fear because if his brother had been killing people, when would he turn on his siblings? when would richie kill quinn, or chad, or mindy, or tara, or sam, or him?

he didn't want to tell the police and had his brother escape from their confines the next day.

ethan sighed. "if i'm helping you, then yes. i am." a beat of silence, as though his thoughts were overcoming him, as though he was weighing his options in his head. he knew you were perfectly content with the silence over the phone (as you probably didn't want to be on the phone with him for so long in the first place), but ethan wasn't like that. he wanted to talk, but about what?

he wanted to talk to you.

he wanted to know you.

"if we're going to be working together, don't you think we should know each other more?" and his question came out as such a pure example of simple curiosity, simple human want to know of someone simply for the sake of knowing someone. to walk past one's walls and know the little facts about them.

you were not one to let people do that. you were not one to let someone simply know you, because your mind didn't work that way. it felt off, it felt odd— the idea that ethan wanted to know you before the shitshow began.

"you don't have to get to know me."

"i want to know you." ethan's breath hitched. "nothing like.. personal, or anything. just like.. what's your favorite season?"

"well, that's really pushing it." you heard his small chuckle on the other end, your eyebrows softening ever so slightly at the sound. "it's autumn. and yours?"

"spring." ethan blinked up at his ceiling. "i like the rain. the smell of petrichor— a lot of people hate it but i just.. don't."

you hummed in acknowledgement, turning your head towards your phone. "favorite color?"

"forest green. and yours?"

"greyish blue. like the kind that appears at dusk when there's fog over the ground." you felt your body relax a bit; the questions were fortunately far more shallow than you thought they would be. ".. are we gonna do this until you fall asleep?"

"if you don't mind," ethan murmured softly, shifting gently in his bed.

"what if i do mind? i do have shit to do tomorrow, you know," you muttered under your breath.

and ethan would've felt pretty bad by your words. you were always so brutally honest yet so horribly awkward (it was painful to watch at times, he had to admit), but there was one particular question weighing on his mind ever since he picked up your call. one that you had easily deflected moments before. "y/n, you didn't answer my question."

your brows furrowed. "what question?"

"aren't you scared?" ethan swallowed thickly, eyes spacing out as he stared at his ceiling, at the darkened abyss of his room. "for your life, for your friends, for anything?"

were you?

you didn't want to be honest with him. you didn't want to tell him that in all honesty, you were terrified. terrified of losing the friends (that was a strong word for it) you barely had, of losing the small bit of family that was still speaking to you with faux smiles and condolences even though they were under the impression that you were an unpredictable woman.

and unpredictable women terrified them.

but your emotions were always increasing tenfold with every passing hour, the thoughts being so jumbled up and so strong that you had simply learned to drown them out. to continue on with your life with your tornado of thoughts and no one to speak to and no one to look for because you were used to doing this all on your own.

you had dealt with it on your own before. you could deal with it again.

but rather than lie to ethan's face, you found yourself confessing much like a sinner to an angel. "i am. i'm terrified, ethan." and that was all.

your fingers flew over your keyboard, the past year of having to write essay after essay finally paying off as you typed furiously into your laptop.

evelyn campo murder 2020

evelyn campo murder cambria california

evelyn campo case

you had only found a few articles on her murder, most of them not even mentioning the girl's name, much less many details about her case (unless you counted grim retellings of the crime scene). there was only a brief mention of a possible suspect (the man you had a date with in literally a day), but other than that, nothing. the police had no leads.

"why isn't there much on her murder?" you asked, scrolling down an article with a frown on your face.

ethan sat next to you on your bed, peering over your shoulder as your eyes scanned your screen. jesus, you read fast. "quinn told me that her parents wanted to keep it under wraps," he murmured, only catching glimpses of the article's words. "but i heard they got some private detectives on the case, too."

"sounds like small town gossip."

"oh, that's cause it was." ethan's eyes landed on one quote from the article as your scrolling finally came to a stop. adam's apple bobbing at the sight of it, he read, '.. found stabbed an approximate 78 times ..' the sheer strength and passion, the excitement richie must've had when he killed evelyn made his stomach sick. and ethan would've easily puked over the side of your bed if you didn't speak to him, breaking him from his stupor.

"hey, stay with me."

and just like that, ethan did. his mind was brought back to the present.

"right. sorry." you oculd feel his breath fan gently over your neck as he continued to look over your shoulder. "if we find the fingertips of his current victims, we can connect him to her— evelyn's —murder."

"maybe he kept them." you looked at ethan, confusion written over his face at your words. "it's just a guess, i dunno. but if evelyn was richie's first victim, then he might have kept parts of her. like a—"

"trophy. oh, this is so fucked," ethan muttered under his breath, moving to lay horizontally on your bed, the situation at hand easily driving him to exhaustion as he stared at your ceiling.

"we should first find out who his most current victims are, if possible. see if anyone our age has gone missing in our university or nearby universities." you looked down at ethan, whose face laid near where you sat. "if we can't, then we need to find those fingertips."

"right."

a beat.

"richie's working, yeah?" you asked ethan, who nodded as his doe eyes turned to you.

"yeah. he can't really be anywhere but work right now.” a hint of a smile graced his features. “i stole a look at his scheduling. he’s probably knee deep in papers right now.” he saw your eyes flash over in worry, the glint disappearing just as quickly as it arrived, and ethan knew. he simply knew that ever since richie gave into his impulses and followed you home, you were on edge.

you were just good at hiding it. good thing ethan was a little bit too observant when he wanted to.

"y/n, he's working." silently reassuring, ethan gazed at you, reading your indifferent face, searching for any more sign of fear or worry, but it was gone. you had gotten rid of everything before it could show even more.

"right." you looked away from ethan, feeling his stupidly innocent gaze still lingering on your as you looked back at your laptop. if you were to meet with ethan anywhere else but your dorm, richie surely would've gone out of his way to see. at least in the safety of your dorm room, you could shut the blinds and lock the door and be sure of your safety.

"what're your guys' plans tomorrow?" ethan asked you, finally allowing your to move on from the indirect topic of your emotions.

you shrugged. "no idea. i never texted him first— that's embarrassing."

"you seemed fine with calling me first last night."

"i never said that wasn't embarrassing." you rolled your eyes, almost hearing the stupid small smile that graced ethan's face at your words.

a minute passed in silence, the only sounds being your typing as you tried to build your list of articles on evelyn's murder. you had a grand total of 5 articles; better than you thought, but not as much as you would've liked.

he shifted umcomfortably in his seat, the dead silence only a bit too awkward for him. "shouldn't you know your plans, though? just in case he, uh," ethan clears his throat, raising his brows knowingly. he didn't want to say the word; but you already knew what he was implying.

"kills me?"

"well, yeah."

"he's not going to kill me," you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. "not yet, anyway. i'm too close to mindy; if i suddenly go missing after a date with him, mindy will find out for sure."

ethan's lips twitched into a small frown, hazel eyes darking with turmoil as he listened to you. "evelyn was my neighbor, y/n. she literally lived down the street from me; he's unpredictable—"

you almost winced at that word.

you could feel them all staring at you. whispering harshly, practically pointing at you as you stood at the doorway of your aunt's house, hands clasped together in front of you. your mother believed that having you locked up in the room of your new shared apartment in new york was unhealthy; and maybe she was right. for once, she had your best interests at heart, only you knew the outcome of her plan to assimilate you back into society under your shiny new last name.

"she's unpredictable," your aunt hissed as she talked to your mother, shamelessly looking you up and down as though you were some freak of nature, ignoring the clouded look over your eyes because you were barely keeping it together as it was. "you saw what she did, didn't you?"

luckily, you barely reacted.

"i know that, e."

"you know," he sat up in his seat, moving to sit next to you, facing the opposite way with his long legs splayed out on your bed, "after he was questioned by the police, he'd come home as though he had just come home from work or something. and he'd," he let out a sigh, "talk about it. like it was something so fucking casual."

"around you?" your eyebrows raised at that.

"no, never around me. but he would around my dad." contempt laced ethan's tone as he continued. it was hatred, but there was something underneath it that was something akin to jealousy, you realized. ''he'd tell him everything. what they asked that day. the leads he thinks they have— and he almost sounded proud that he was their only suspect."

"can i ask something?" you shifted to face your body towards his, your legs lightly touching his side. "if you were so sure that richie was the killer, why didn't you say anything?"

"because my dad worked for the department. so richie had an in." there it was again, you noticed; that familiar contempt. "and even though wayne bailey wasn't a part of the case, he upheld richie's innocence."

you blinked. "your family is fucked."'

"oh, i know."

"do you think you're the same way?"

ethan's eyebrows raised at your blunt question. he would've laughed in your face at your honesty if it weren't for the fact that you were dead serious. you stared at ethan, almost unblinking, expecting an equally honest answer back. "oh, you actually want to know?"

"yes?" you frowned a bit, tilting your head to the side a little. "did you think i was joking?"

"maybe?"

your brows knotted together. "i'm not joking, though."

"well, i know that now," ethan groaned, cheeks dusting pink out of slight embarrassment. "i haven't been diagnosed with anything other than like.. seasonal allergies and peanuts. maybe my moral code is a little messed up because i told you last night that i'm willing to help you kill my brother if i need to," his hands moved as he fell deeper and deeper into his ramble, "so maybe? the answer is maybe."

you listened to ethan ramble intently, watching his hands move as he spoke, as he ranted his jumbled thoughts in his mind to you. and in any other circumstance, you would've found ethan bailey annoying. he talked too much, couldn't handle silence, and had a way of going back and forth on things.

but you didn't mind ethan. he was tolerable.

you liked tolerable.

"or maybe the answer isn't maybe and i need to see a therapist. because i don't particularly feel bad for trying to put my murderous sociopathic brother in jail — not as much as i probably should, by the way — so the answer might be a yes, but for the sake of my sanity the answer is still.." ethan's string of words died in his throat when he realized he had been rambling for a good minute now.

you seemed like the type to interrupt someone who was speaking far too much and far too fast in a short period of time, but you hadn't said a word.

you were listening to him. staring (albeit a little creepily; had you blinked yet?) and observing ethan as he spoke too much about an uncomfortable topic to try and get rid of the unsettling feeling in his chest.

ethan cleared his suddenly dry throat as he stared into your eyes (for someone who hated to socialize, you held eye contact a little bit too much sometimes). "the answer is still a maybe," he managed, officially finishing his ramble. offering you a tight lipped smile, he added, "i rambled."

"you did." you replied.

"i'm sorry i did."

"nothing to be sorry about. i don't mind it." you stared at him for a little longer, blinking before turning back to your laptop, failing to notice the way ethan's face turned a prettier shade of red at your nonchalance. "when richie and i are out on our date, you should look for any ids or items he may have kept from his victims."

"right." ethan focused his attention to the task at hand, ignoring the way your prior words seemed to echo in his mind. how could he be thinking so deeply about such a thing when you were acting as if it was nothing? you were just a nice person; there wasn't more behind your words. "you should try and be out with him for a good few hours just to give me time."

"a few hours with richie. sounds great." you clenched your jaw, your fingers stopping on your keyboard. but they were still thrumming on your thumb, each finger tapping your fingertip in an undisclosed rhythm. "any pointers? like anything he may like in a person that'll make him," your nose wrinkled at your words, "not want to go home?"

"he likes you as you are already." ethan paused, biting his bottom lip gently as he reevaluated his words. "actually— he likes girls who he can't really have. like sam?" he rolled his eyes as he remembered their hellshow of a relationship. "he pined after sam for like a year just because she was dating someone before they got together."

ethan avoided your gaze as he looked at your laptop screen. "you know when he listened while we pretended to have sex? how he waited," from his peripherals, he could see your expression sour with anger at his words, "until you 'orgasmed'," ethan made faux quotations with his fingers, "before he left?"

"yeah." the memory of richie's shadow under ethan's door made a sick feeling broil in your stomach. and that feeling only grew when your mind came to a horrible assumption. "you don't think richie's interest in me grew after that night.. do you?"

ethan finally looked at you, his jaw clenched in anger and protectiveness as he nodded once. and that alone made your face fall in horror.

richie partly wanted you because it meant he deemed you 'forbidden' territory. because he believed ethan was interested in you first.

you groaned, letting your upper body fall back on your bed. "your brother's disgusting," you stated, staring at your ceiling.

next to you, ethan sighed. "i know."

you stood stiffly as you stared at the black dress you wore. in any other circumstance, you would've been comfortable with how you looked. you had styled your hair and this was one of your many black dresses that fit your features well, and to top it off, you wore a heart locket necklace and had your bag over your shoulder.

but knowing what you were getting into, it was hard to stay completely confident. you had basically shoved more of your strongest emotions into the deep dark hole in your mind just to keep yourself sane, but you couldn't even deny the sickening feeling in your chest that seemed to grow with every passing minute.

you still had no idea what richie's plans were. maybe it was something boring, like a movie then dinner. or maybe a walk in the park that would eventually lead to your death.

all you knew was that he would pick you up at 7 pm. that was all richie texted you, and now it was 6:45.

15 minutes.

"hello?" ethan's voice on your phone made you snap out of your thoughts, jaw clenching as you looked at yourself one last time, making sure not a hair was out of place just to keep up the facade.

you had called him again. at this point, you were wondering if you were lacking self respect for yourself, choosing to continuously call ethan during times of high stress in your shared situation.

you really needed to stop calling first. it was getting embarrassing.

"hello." you looked at your phone, watching as ethan tried (and failed) to set up his phone on his bedside table. you had been in a call for 30 minutes now, and while most of the conversation was honestly just ethan talking and you replying with short comments, you didn't mind it too much.

"are you, uh," ethan swallowed hard, "ready? hasn't been back since work so i'm guessing he's on his way to you now."

"i'm ready to get this over with, if that's what you mean." you set your phone up on your table, thankful that anika and mindy were out on another one of their movie dates (mindy was a little too excited to watch evil dead rise), so you could speak without interruptions. you sat on your desk chair, showing the upper half of your body to ethan, who was sitting on his bed, his back laid back on his head board.

but when he saw you, dressed up and looking a little bit too nice for his shitty brother, ethan sat up. throat running dry like it always seemed to and cheeks heating up, he managed an almost shy smile as he looked at you. "you look.. nice."

"thanks." a pause. "do i not usually look nice?"

ethan's eyes widened in shock (and slight fear). "i didn't say that! i just haven't known you for that long and i've only seen you like a handful of times but i swear you always look nice! you just look especially nice tonight. for richie." his nose crinkled in disgust at the thought.

you were all dressed up for his brother. and while the entire situation had made ethan throw up almost daily and feel far too many negative emotions that he didn't know how he felt anymore, he knew one thing as he looked at you, sitting so casually as though you weren't stopping ethan's train of thought.

he was jealous. and worried. and feeling far too protective over you, someone who could definitely handle everything on your own.

you tilted your head a little as ethan ended his short ramble. "ethan, i was joking."

"oh." ethan nodded, clicking his tongue as he tried to play it cool. "right."

lightly glossed lips curled up slightly, revealing a small smile. "thank you." your hands pulled your ring off of your finger. you let it run over your knuckles; back and forth. back and forth. the heated metal (you hands were and it was only a little disgusting) moved easily over your skin as you tried to calm yourself.

9 more minutes.

"y/n," ethan said, making your eyes focus again. "be careful, okay?"

your mouth opened to protest, but ethan continued on.

"and i know you said you could handle it," he said pointedly, making you shut your mouth, "but i want you to be careful."

three loud knocks at your dorm door made you jump, hand closing over your ring and curling into a fist as your steady heart began to pound loudly in your ears.

he was here.

"i have to go." you grabbed your phone, voice lowered down as you looked at ethan one last time. and for a brief moment, he saw just how worried you were. "you know the plan. be careful." and with that, you hung up.

the door to you and mindy's shared dorm felt far away as you walked out of your bedroom, shoving your phone into your purse before opening your dorm door. richie stood outside with a single orchid in his hand, its petals pristine and white as he held it. sleazy eyes traveled down your body, as though he was silently taking in your every curve, every exposed area of skin. and not even caring to seem the least bit subtle, richie took his time traveling back up to your face, his cold eyes watching you with interest.

as though you were some unpredictable toy for him.

"you look beautiful," richie murmured, making you force a smile as you tilted your head to the side a bit. shutting the door behind you, you looked him up and down; an open button up black shirt with a white shirt inside and some black jeans. the lack of effort in his style was infuriating— why did you have to dress up but he showed up as though he robbed old navy?

"you look.. good," you managed, unable to keep your honesty at bay as you managed a tight lipped smile. your lackluster response made you want to walk back into your dorm and lock it, but richie only chuckled at your response.

"nothing else?" he asked, handing the orchid to you. "i got you another flower."

another flower. you tried to hide your disgust at the confirmation that richie really was your stalker, instead taking the orchid with a tense hand. as you took it, richie began to walk down the hall of your dorm building, ready to lead you out.

"thanks," you stated, walking next to him and reluctantly allowing him to take the lead. wary eyes watched him, taking in the way he seemed to have perfect posture, how pleased he seemed in himself, as though his mere presence was a blessing to you, and the way he was staring right back at you.

observing. watching, pupils almost dilating as he took in how perfect you looked under the fluorescent light of the hallway. richie could feel his heart pounding, adams apple bobbing as he took a moment — just a moment — to admire his date. his date. the phrase rolled off of his tongue quite nicely.

you immediately averted your eyes back to the hallway in front of you. "so," you began, ignoring the way his eyes felt on your skin, "you were pretty enigmatic about this whole date. i almost thought you'd kill me or something." the dry humored joke fell from your lips before you could stop it, and yet you kept your eyes focused on the hallway in front of you, barely a reaction on your face as blood rushed through your ears. as you both began to take the elevator downstairs, you heard richie laugh.

even his laugh sounded ingenuine.

he stood next to you, arm pressed against yours, a little too close for comfort in the empty elevator. "just wanted to keep it a surprise, that's all." richie's eyes traveled to your hand, watching as you rubbed your ring subconsciously, a lopsided smirk appearing on his face. "are you nervous for our date?" he asked.

eyes blinking, you looked up at him confusedly. "no," you said with a tilt of your head, "why do you say that?"

"because," richie said, looking down at you with a mischievous smile, as though he was always one step ahead of you. "you've been rubbing that ring of yours ever since i arrived. i'd call it a," he thought for a moment before clicking his tongue, "nervous tick." a knowing glint appeared in his eyes, and suddenly you felt a wave of sick paranoia wash over you.

you immediately stopped rubbing your ring, your head turning back to the closed elevator doors in front of you both. your distorted reflection stared back at you from the steel of the elevator doors, and it was as though you realized just how trapped you were. there was no going back from this plan.

again, you began to subconsciously rub your ring. and richie continued to watch.

#AUTHORSNOTE— i'm actually soso sorry for the long update & the cliffhanger, but thank you for reading!

#TAGLIST— @cham9ions , @netey6m , @mskitkatbubbles , @onlyangel-444 , @cyueksims , @tisthedamnseason69 , @helpimgoinginsanehaha , @anthemabby , @clemenscove , @vanillawhale , @lanascinnamongirll , @rhaenyra4ever , @shebreathedherlast , @datingspiderman , @marurubahbah , @taetae123094 , @kn1n3 , @nox222 , @ch9mpi0n , @ooyuhgetitig4

[zaradress]

brothers best friend

pairing: Callum McGinley x Airey reader warnings: sexual content, age gap, unprotected sex, thigh riding, daddy kink prompt: Faye is Callum Airey's sister and has an extreme attraction to Callums best friend Callux.

Fuck he looked good. I sat as I watched him behind the scenes of a sidemen shoot. Every bone in me tries to disguise how attracted I am to him, since I know that nothing will ever happen between the two of us.

For one he is 10 years older than me and is not even supposed to be an option with how my brother would react to his best friend having sexual thoughts about me.

Cal would literally kill me if I even initiate something with Lux. But I couldn't ignore the fact that whenever he was around my knees instantly fold or my panties become less and less dry.

The thing is I can't get him off my mind. Perhaps it's because I'm just horny and have never had a sexual experience but if you ask me it's more than that. Since there was just something in me that wanted to make him proud or just want his approval and no one else's.

I haven't even realised that I have been staring at him for the past couple of minutes. Because of my staring Lux sent me a questionable look.

"Alright lets take 20, everyone", some person behind the camera shouted. Probably since they were going to be here the entire day. I am only going to be here for another hour until my mom can come pick me up. So I definitely understand why they are taking a break.

Callux starts walking towards me. My brother had left with some of the guys to get some food from the buffet. "Aren't you going to go eat?" I ask him politely trying to not make it obvious that just a couple of minutes ago I was thinking about him being inside of me.

"Not really hungry for food", he responds.

I give him a confused look. "Than what are you hungry for?" I laugh a little through the confusion.

His eyes travel up and down my body stopping at my clenched thighs that were closer together than anything else on this world. Lux sits down next to me. "Why are your thighs so clenched, here let me help you", he puts his soothing hand on my thigh. Trying to relax my muscles. His hand traveling further and further up my thigh.

Good thing I am wearing my jeans. Otherwise I probably would have come un done right there and then. I close my eyes and put my head back. Enjoying a feeling I probably will never feel again. He retrieves his hands and I quickly open my eyes again. "All better", he says.

"Thanks I guess", I say whilst crossing my legs. My cheeks turn to a rosey color.

"So why were you staring at me before", well what am I supposed to say to that, "that I was thinking about how you could fuck me good", that would just be stupid.

I look at Callum who looked at me in a shocked manner. "Oh my fucking god I did not just say that out loud. Please tell me I didn't say that", he laughs a little.

"Yes you did and yes I could", he says and gets up. Leaving me in utter disbelief.

I just can't believe I said that. At least he didn't feel uncomfortable. More like amusing.

The boys returned with food on some paper plates and sat down in the studio. Not being able to stand the weird tension in this room whilst Callux was talking to my brother as if I hadn't just seconds ago said that I want him to fuck me, I decide to get some food.

At the buffet there were a lot of options. But I was most interested in the rice so I took some rice and vegetables. I sat down in the empty room not even hungry.

I decide to not eat my food and just sit there playing with the strings of the holes in my jeans. All of a sudden someone sits down beside me. Lux. "There you are, I've been looking for you", I couldn't even look at him and hide my face in my hands. Still embarrassed over what I had done earlier. "Why are you hiding you're. Come on it wasn't that bad. I get it I was your age once too and fuck me I wanted to fuck anyone if they'd given me the chance", I laugh he gets a hold of my hands and put them down.

"Well the thing is, this is probably tmi but I just think I need to say this. I have never had a sexual experience, not even by myself and I have never had the urge to but I don't know lately every fucking time I see you...thats enough information", I tell him.

He looks at me a little shocked. His hand travel to my thigh stopping at a hole in my jeans. "Never? You have to be kidding right. There is no way not even you have played with yourself", he says his hand sliding in to the loose hole in my jeans. His hand caressing my naked thigh.

"I just never have had the urge. And I am honestly scared of doing anything to myself", he looks me in the eyes. I know what he is thinking probably. "I need to stop talking", I say.

The thing is just the feeling of his hand on my thigh could make me tell him anything if he asked me. "Don't rush it, okay? One day you will find a guy you find attractive and then things will just unravel", he tells me. "Because even if I wanted to give you that pleasure I can't. Cal is my best friend and it would literally kill me", he tells me. I nod understanding everything he is telling me.

Suddenly my phone begins to vibrate and with that Callum decided to leave. I pick up the phone and my mother immediately says that she's here. So I get my things and leave.

Before I can even enter the car she says something. "So you're staying at your brother place today. He's not very happy about it and neither am I but I have no other choice", she says.

"What do you mean you have no other choice?" I ask her confused as to what she means by that.

"I got a call from a client in Edinburgh and have to catch a flight today. I swear I'm going to change firms because this is actually not okay anymore", she says. Lately her law firm has been only sending her to the further away places and has had to travel last minute. She is in her own opinion starting to turn grey because of this.

"Well can't I just stay alone at home", she laughs.

We pull up to Callums apartment. "There is no way I'm letting you stay alone. What if something happens? No no I'm already turning grey there is no way I am letting you do that", she says. "I packed you a bag for the night get it from the backseat". She gives me a kiss on the cheek and leaves after I get the bag and shut the door.

I walk up to his apartment and lock the door after entering. Leaving all my stuff in the living room and sitting down on the couch. Intending to take a nap. But that nap turned into a three hour long sleep. Which probably would have been longer if I hadn't heard the door unlock.

The three boys enter. "I'm never doing sidemen shoots again it takes way to fucking long", my brother says.

"What are you yapping about you always want to be there", Harry said obviously exhausted.

"Yeah and then I end up regretting it", they all took off their jackets and shoes. Finally noticing me after.

"I didn't know your sister was staying here", Harry says. Callux looked at me slightly surprised I was here.

"Yeah forgot to tell you guys but my mum told me about it just a few hours ago", Cal says.

"Well I'm gonna hit the hay", Harry says.

"Same, well at least a nap", Cal says and turns to me before entering his room. "Don't do anything stupid and you know where everything is", he says and enters his room.

Now it was just me and Lux. Who has gone to the fridge to get a drink. "Aren't you going to go to bed?" I ask him.

"Not really tired so no", he says and sits down beside me.

"So you're not really hungry and not really tired than what are you", I laugh at him.

He laughs as well closing his eyes and putting his head back. "Really fucking horny that's what I am", he laughs. I couldn't tell if he was joking or not. But I felt a little courageous. So with him not having opened his eyes yet I straddle his lap.

Immediately he opens his eyes. "What the fuck are you doing", he says placing his hands on my thighs. I put my hands around his neck.

"Nothing, just thought your lap would be more comfortable", I smirk lightly.

He takes a deep breath his eyes traveling from my eyes to my lips. I adjust a little to be more comfortable. To which he holds down my hips so it becomes more difficult for e to move as well as putting some pressure. A very light moan escapes my lips when I feel something pressing against my sex. I hide my face in the crook of his neck.

Because of the light moan he pushes against me again making me moan again. I started to roll my hips and he pushed hard against me. "Lux", I moan into his ear and he groans. "Harder", I tell him. And he listens pushing very hardly against my sex as I roll my hips meeting his.

All of a sudden he stops my hips. I look at him confused and desperate. "Straddle my leg. I want you to fuck yourself on my leg", says putting a hair behind my ear. I have never done anything like this. But I am submissive and oblige happily to his command. I straddle his leg and start rolling my hips hard and fast.

"Just like that", he says. "Such a good girl", he starts to bounce his leg which makes me moan even harder. He puts a hand against my mouth to muffle my moans.

I couldn't get enough of the sensation and I was getting closer to my climax. "Lux I think I'm close", I tell him.

"No you're not, I am telling you when you are close. You listen to me", he says. Only making more wet. I loved being controlled by him. Being told what to do.

I bite down on his shoulder lightly to muffle my moans. Because the constant rubbing against his leg and rough material was getting to me. "Now take off your jeans", he tells me. I stand up quickly and take off my jeans. He unzips his jeans. A prominent budge visible. But he doesn't take them off fully. I straddle his lap yet again in my underwear. He pulls out his dick.

"Lux how is that supposed to fit. It's so big", I tell him starting to get scared of the pain I might feel.

"Don't worry I will be slow and careful. It might hurt but you won't have to take me entirely", he says. His hands travel to my underwear pulling it aside. And then I position myself on him.

It hurt but in a good way. I moan silently knowing we aren't alone. I start going down his shaft. It was visible how desperate he was for it to go faster.

"Your doing so great just keep going", he says his hands guiding my hips. I reach the end and start to roll my hips. As he starts to fuck into me as well.

I wanted to scream instead whimpers were coming out because of how much ecstasy I was feeling. He started going harder. His dick pushing hard inside of me. Going in and out every time harder. I rolled my hips faster.

Never have I never felt anything like this. "Such a good girl aren't you", he tells me. "Such a good girl for Daddy aren't you", he says which makes me moan a little too loud. "Quiet you don't want us to get caught do you?", he asks.

"No I don't daddy, I'm sorry", I hold in my moans which is harder than what you would think. I get close to his ear. "Daddy", I whisper. To which he thrust became deeper and harder.

"Ugh, I don't know how much longer I can take", I tell him. Lux repositions us so he's on top and I am laying on the sofa.

"Just a little more, so daddy can come with you", he says.

The thrust were only getting harder and holding in my climax wasn't getting easier. "Alright princess you can cum now", his thrusts have become sloppier and he came inside of me at the same time as I did.

Still inside of me he lied on top of me a little. Applying as little pressure as possible. "Fuck that was good", he says.

He gets up and puts his dick in his away. Going to the bathroom. Lux returns with a towel. "Let me clean you up a bit", he says and starts cleaning me up.

I was still in shock of how good it was. Maybe it was worth the wait? "Lux?" I say.

"Yeah?", he says returning from between my legs to a normal state. I put my underwear to it's original state and go to my bag to get my shorts.

"Cal can't find out about this I say", to which he nods and agrees. I put my shorts on. "That was fucking amazing though.", I say and lay my head on his lap.

As I start to fall asleep again. Exhausted.

[joculatrixster]

"ill admit i dont watch sos nor raft streams but im calling out ppl who r calling scott specifically abusive and ive literally never seen anyone as vilinized as scott in fics i can think off the top of my head 3 fics ive seen where scott is the vilian and portrayed as jimmys abuser which is NOT true for anyone u mentioned." You can't say Scott is the only one villainized in the same breath as admitting you haven't seen content where other CCs get villainized by the audience.

Many of the *exact same people* who criticize Scott have also come out with posts talking about how uncomfortable Sausage makes them, some of them specifically citing his behavior toward Jimmy in SOS. Of course, I can't say that's true for everyone in fandom who criticizes Scott, but in my experience people critical of Scott are critical of others, too, regardless of their sexuality. Saying the criticism is fueled by homophobia doesn't track when the people criticizing Scott are also criticizing straight CCs/characters for very similar things.

Everyone has a different fandom experience based on what circles/fan archives/discussion boards they're on, and even on the same site people can have different experiences because of stuff like algorithms and who you're following. IIRC I have seen a fic where Grian, Jimmy, Joel and Lizzie were all siblings and Lizzie called out Grian and Joel for not being good brothers to Jimmy, while the only fic I've seen with Scott being "villainized" was a short ficlet where he did something small out of jealousy that didn't have any long term effects. I have actually gone *looking* for toxic FH fanfic and not found any. (I like complicated messy relationship story lines, so I feel like toxic FH in fic form would be fun to read.) Obviously this has not been your experience, but you seem to be treating your fandom experience as if it's the same for everyone else, which it's not.

its nnot just my experience when multiple multiple ppl have spoken out about how prominent it is specifically for scott again if its just a small issue id understand but the normalization is insane, ive seen a fic where scott turns jimmy into his pet doll and he needs to be saved from his clutches. ive read a gic where scott kills pearl and wants to destroy the entire world and has jimmy as his pet who he promised to keep as long as he stayed uner his thumb. ive read a fic where scott just leaves jimmy at the alter and pearl hunts him down and lashes out violently at him and we r meant to side w pearl for attacking him bc he didnt feel bad for poor jimmy. these were not obscure fics or small fics. u seem to assume an issue others r clearly pointing out theyve seen way more than others is only something some fridnge guy is complaining about instead of perhaps something UVE missed hm? uve seen 1 fic where joel and grian r kinda shitty to jimmy and get called out ive read multiple fics where scott breaks down jimmy as a person and needs to be saved from him, ive seen multiple posts calling irl scott smajor am abuser bc of one clip, ive seen pll say jimmy deadass is uncomfortable w FH and doesnt like scott which is just weird ass behavior. yes sausage gets flack i belive this but i haven't seen a shit ton of fics making sausage break jimmy soan mentally then get killed or punished in the end for being an irredeemable abuser. ive seen multiple of that for scott or just seeing scott in general in a veryyy negative light which is clearly due to an unfavorable interpretation of his character. which is fine, but name three fics where grian is intpreted that unfavorably w over 100 kueos. no seriously show me the fics where grian dies in the 3nd and its a thing everyone is happy about in the ficand they do not mourn him at all bc they hated him. go on!

its funny how ur orignal anon nitpicked my post and ur reply again nitpicks one part of a wider post as if the point i said was even what ur replyin to, im talking fandom space but even if i wasnt im talking life series fandom while i do mention oli thats just to ponnt out that One scott clip is not Just a scott thing, girl. vilinized in life series aka what i tagged, dont be stupid here its literally just making u look stupid 😭i used grian as an example bc hes someone who acts similar in the space i was criticizing and not sausage bc i am aware things may be different in a DIFFERENT context. ur majorlyyyy derialing and not rlly proving me wrong ur just proving that u dont rlly get what im saying which is fine but also all ur points r just...not disproving anything l. ur example is 1 grian and joel being criticized in one(1) fic(which is not what vilianized even means dude but hey ill give u this u did find one somewhat grian neg fic!) and 2 a guy not even in the fandom i tagged. girl...

[weirdestbooks]

The Shot Heard Around the World Chapter 24

Defeats of New York (Wattpad | Ao3)

Table of Contents | Prev | Next

August 27, 1776

What was he thinking? Why did he really believe that he could get away from his father? Why did United States—Thirteen Colonies delude himself into thinking he really had the power to get away from his father, that he really had the power to declare independence and become a country?

What gave him the right?

Panic and fear ran through him like never before. He supposed that he had been lucky not to see Father during the battle that morning, only spotting Scotland, who just seemed sad upon seeing Thirteen Colonies.

Vaguely, he began to register someone talking to him.

“States, you need to breathe. You’re going to pass out!”

The unfamiliar voice—

“James.”

James was right. Thirteen Colonies couldn’t breathe. His breath stuttered and stopped and came out in short little bursts, which prevented him from breathing very well, as black spots crept into his vision.

Slowly, Thirteen Colonies let his breaths even out, vision clearing. Miraculously, it seemed that no one had noticed his panic—or at least how bad it had gotten.

“We ensured you stayed upright so no one thought you were going mad,” New York said, his voice sounding distant with how foggy Thirteen Colonies' head was. He felt…he felt as if he was watching someone else control his body. 

Maybe someone was. It was all fuzzy.

“General Washington has a plan of escape. He is going to escape across the river since the British have laid siege. This is not going to be the end, United States of America, so snap out of it now! Your people need you!” the male voice said. And he wanted to Thirteen—United States—whatever his name was going to end up being, he wanted to break out of the fog and help. But it was…it was just so hard.

“Let me take control! I can help General Washington!” New York exclaimed. Thirteen Colonies wanted to react, but he felt foggy. He knew his body was moving, that his mouth was forming words that he could not hear, but he was not the one in control. 

He was watching.

Like his states.

“York—”

“This is my state, Uncle James, and if Father is unable to fight, then I will!” New York declared, his voice distant. 

Thirteen Colonies blinked, and suddenly, he was staring up at a darkened sky, faces crowded all around him. Faces…with his flag. Well, most of them, in any case.

“Father?” exclaimed one of the faces, his voice familiar.

“Mass...Massachusetts?” Thirteen Colonies exclaimed, recognizing it. Where was he? The states were supposed to be in his head, right? Massachusetts nodded, tackling him into a hug, and the other faces—other states—did the same.

“You’re here!” a voice that Thirteen Colonies recognized to be Maryland said. Thirteen Colonies was crying, tears of happiness and sorrow running down his face. These were his children—he was seeing the faces of his children for the very first time, and yet…

“Where am I?” he asked. He must have died. Father overtook their army and crushed them, killing Thirteen Colonies personally for his disobedience. He killed his children.

“We’re in your head! Well…our head? We didn't know you could come here. But this is where we are when we aren’t near enough to talk to you or take control!” New Hampshire said. Thirteen Colonies scanned the faces of his children again. They were all so beautiful and wonderful.

What has Thirteen Colonies dragged them into?

“Are you okay?” Thirteen Colonies then heard that unfamiliar male voice from behind him that everyone refused to name.

Thirteen Colonies shot to his feet, knocking the small colony—Rhode Island and Providence Plantations—off his lap.

The man looked kind, but Thirteen Colonies knew better than to trust that. He had been hurt by kind-looking people before. The most shocking thing about this man was his face—not flag or seal—just pale human skin.

The colonies in his head were a weird country thing. So what…what was this human man doing here?

Thirteen Colonies was scared.

“Hey, States. My name is James. I…I also exist here, even though I’m human. I…we don’t know why,” he introduced. Thirteen Colonies shook his head, feeling panicked.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,” he muttered. He felt like he was going insane. What was happening?

Thirteen Colonies wished he was with his father again, with his father who could say a few words and make everything go away, everything have an explanation, some semblance of sense.

“Father, are you okay?” Virginia asked.

“Guys, I know you’re excited, but how about we give him some space,” James said, and Thirteen Colonies heard the other colonies scatter. He wanted to say something, but it felt like his mouth had frozen shut. “Jonathan’s a nice name. It was a good pick.”

“I should be back…I need to be in control. Father’s going to kill them all. I need to talk him down from that!” Thirteen Colonies said, unwilling to even begin discussing the stupid, stupid, human name he had picked for himself. This was a mistake. He should surrender now and save everyone from the bloodshed of his madness.

“It’s okay. New York has that handled. We’re not surrendering, and the British are not attacking. We’re evacuating across the river. Your son can handle that,” James said, his voice soothing and vaguely familiar, causing Thirteen Colonies to dreg up memories of long ago, back when he was a child.

He…he remembered James.

“You…you used to sing to me. When I was little. Before…before Jamestown,” Thirteen Colonies asked. When he was scared and alone, even when he had his aunt, that voice was always there to sing gentle songs that helped him sleep and made him feel safe, warm, and loved.

James nodded.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have any answers about how I’m here. I hardly know myself. But…I’ve been trying my best to look after you, to keep the bad memories away so you can be happy,” James explained. Thirteen Colonies shot him a confused look.

“Bad memories?” he asked. What did that mean? Was James erasing his memories? Was that how Thirteen Colonies became so delusional to think that he could actually go to war against his Father and win?

“Whenever Britain got…rough or violent, I would take control to spare you the pain. So you remembered the good memories, not the bad ones. So you could be happy and content,” James said, voice tinged with sadness.

“He made me forget you. Or…stop talking to you. I spoke with Virginia before. I know that,” Thirteen Colonies said, looking at James in way of an explanation.

“I don’t like him, but…I think that shows that he did love you in a strange way. He…he could have killed you, and if he said you were insane, he would have been given clemency because it’s a good reason. But he chose to use martial law to make you forget so that you wouldn’t look insane. I can’t…I know it hurts, but it might have been the right call at that moment,” James said, looking conflicted.

“I…I guess so. I think…I think we need to go back to him,” Thirteen Colonies said, hunching in on himself and burying his face in his knees. 

“What? But you’ve been so excited about independence and being a country before? What brought about this change? You—you can’t be under martial law because you’re independent, but…Jonathan, are you alright?” James asked. Thirteen Colonies bit down a sob.

“I can’t fight him! He’s too strong. It would…it would be better to give up now and beg for mercy. I can…soldiers are one thing. Father is another. It’s better to return to being his colony before he runs out of patience. It will save everyone from his anger, and I can take the punishment,” Thirteen Colonies explained before waiting for James’ response. 

Instead of saying anything, the human pulled him into a hug, and it was so warm and safe that Thirteen Colonies just began sobbing, gripping onto James tighter, wanting the safety the hug offered.

“I know he’s held power over you before, but if we get independence, he won’t be able to hurt you. You’ll be safe. Permanently safe from him,” James pointed out, his voice gentle and prompting a new wave of tears.

Safe. What did that mean? Countryhumans were rarely safe, always part of so much violence and hate. Thirteen Colonies…he had been safe with his Father. The hurt was just a way of protecting him, of preparing him for the real world, where he could be killed at the drop of a hat.

It was…he was safe there.

Right?

“I can’t fight him,” Thirteen Colonies eventually said. “Seeing him…I’m scared, and I…I stop being the United States of America, and I just…I feel like the Thirteen Colonies again,” he explained. James squeezed him tighter.

“I’m sorry. I know this…this is terrifying for us all, the what-ifs and worst-case scenarios, but if we just give up, we never actually try, prove that it is possible to beat your father,” James said, pulling out of the hug, still keeping a hand on the countryhuman’s shoulder. “But you aren’t alone.”

“But I have to fight him, and I can’t do that! I can’t fight my father!” the countryhuman said, slapping his hands over his ears, trying to block out all noise. 

“You don’t have to,” James said. The countryhuman lowered his hands from his ears, looking up at James with a faint hope in his eyes.

“How can I not? I’m supposed to be their nation,” he asked. James laughed.

“New York is in control right now, helping with the evacuation. But to your people, it is just you. If you ever can’t fight due to your fear of Britain, I can take control and fight for you. To everyone else, the United States of America is fighting with them, but you don’t have to be the one to do that,” James said, gently taking the countryhuman’s hands and looking him in the eyes.

“Thank you,” said the United States of America before pulling the man into another hug. He didn’t know why the thought of facing his father stole his breath away and made him shake, but…at least he had the people who shared his body there to help him.

At least it ensured that he looked like he was doing something.

• ───────────────── •

September 15, 1776

Britain was glad to be standing in New York City. They had heavily shelled the land before landing at Kip’s Bay, but considering they landed unopposed, it seemed the shelling might not have been necessary.

They had also been able to cut off any rebel escape routes and capture some militiamen. Thirteen Colonies and his rebels would not slip away from him this time. He would see them captured and justice served. 

And then he would remind his son where his loyalties lay.

“You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep gripping your gun like that,” Britain heard Scotland say from behind him as the country slowly walked over and gently took the gun from Britain’s hands. Britain’s hands then curled into fists. “You seem upset for someone who is winning.”

“Thirteen should be in my hands by now! I told Sir Howe that a siege was a dumb idea and that we should have just attacked their troops and crushed them, but no, he insisted on a siege, and Thirteen slipped away! This entire thing could have been over!” Britain ranted, anger in his voice, throwing his hands in the air.

“Your flag is slipping,” Scotland warned, and Britain quickly returned focus to straightening the pattern on it. “And…Crùn, do you think that this rebellion will last forever?”

Britain scoffed, “Of course not Ath—Alba. But…I despise that it has gotten so out of hand that Thirteen has now deluded himself into believing he is mentally fit to be a country.”

Scotland raised an eyebrow, not saying anything but listening to Britain's rant, which was evident by the way his ears were.

“Even if it—” Britain cut himself off, unwilling to admit that he had been aware of Thirteen Colonies’ mental incompetence for a while. “He’s a child, my child, and he shouldn’t be a country. He can’t protect himself from France and Spain, from the Indians! He’ll die without me.”

“An Fhraing and an Spàinn might not be an issue. If Thirteen proves himself to them, they could recognize him and become his allies,” Scotland pointed out.

“Alba, I was trying not to acknowledge that,” Britain chided before sighing, “Hence why Sir Howe should have listened to me, so this whole mess could be over.”

“It’s not wrong to want to show mercy sometimes,” Scotland pointed out. 

“It is when it risks throwing the balance of the world into uproar. Thirteen cannot become independent,” Britain said. Scotland then sighed.

“If you don’t show him mercy, he’ll try again. Èirinn always has. You’ve heard that before, I’m sure—the more Thirteen fears you, the more he’ll do everything he can to avoid you. You need to promise not to punish him too harshly and allow things to eventually return to how they once were,” Scotland explained. Britain respected the man immensely, but his one weakness was that he was too soft on his children, too willing to let them get away with things, which would only hurt them in the end.

“I will ensure that Thirteen sees the necessary punishment for treason and hurting England. Or have you forgotten what he did?” Britain snapped.

“Sasann’s survived a lot worse than a blow to the jaw. I have faith that he will recover. I am not trying to insult your parenting skills, Crùn, but it is better to coax Thirteen back than force him back. One will ensure he wants to stay with you. The other will leave him bitter and resentful,” Scotland said, voice calm.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. My son deserves to be punished, and he is not escaping that, even if you want to show him mercy!” Britain snapped before walking away. His son loved him and knew his place, and once Britain reminded him of that, then his son would be back at his side.

No mercy is required for that.

• ───────────────── •

September 16, 1776

United States had been talking to General Washington, composing a letter to Congress about their present situation, when the alarm went off about British soldiers approaching their position. United States had frozen at the news as General Washington ordered riders to investigate, fear flooding through him at the thought of his father’s rage.

He then felt James approach, so close to him, a sign that the man with whom United States had begun conversing daily about their arrangement and his states was ready to take over if he needed it. United States shook his head slightly, snapping out of the fear. 

They were investigating the reports. There was no sign of his father yet. He would be okay for now.

“America, I am going to ride down to the southern part of the camp to observe the situation myself,” General Washington had said. “Are you coming with me?”

“Of course,” United States had responded, and the two set off. The ride was silent unless you counted James and New York’s whispered argument in the back of United States’ head.

“Sorry, Father!”

Anxiety still knawed at United States’ stomach, and when he saw General Reed racing back towards him and General Washington, the sinking pit that was forming seemed to grow even deeper.

“I can take over now if you’d like. I know he’s not here, but I’d rather you not collapse in front of Washington,” James offered. Once again, United States shook his head. He was staying for as long as he could, or so help him God—

“Okay, I get it,” James relented, backing off but nonetheless present.

“What’s happening, General?” United States asked once General Reed was within earshot.

“Lt. Knowlton’s rangers have begun a skirmish with British troops. We need reinforcements,” he said. United States bit back a curse. This was not what they needed, not after losing New York City. They needed a battle whose terms they could dictate, not a battle that was sprung on them.

Before General Washington could respond, the figures of Lt. Knowlton’s rangers appeared, the men seemingly having fled back to camp.

“That’s not good,” Pennsylvania muttered. Behind the rangers were the British Regulars, a clear sign that United States’ troops were fleeing the British line. Terrifyingly, the British forces were getting close enough that United States could hear their bugle and see the blue face that belonged to either Uncle Scotland or his father.

United States’ hands were shaking.

The worst part was what they were playing. It was not a standard bugle call meant to signal to the troops that they needed to advance or deploy; no, it was a song that was very familiar to United States.

It was called Gone Away, and it was no war song but a fox-hunting song, a song meant to signal that the fox had been killed and that the chase was over in a foxhunt.

Father was saying that he was a fox that had been killed, that the hunt was over, that the hunters had come to collect their prey. It was humiliating, and shame burned in his throat as tears pricked at the corner of his eyes.

United States could see his father now, see that his father was playing the song as well, and United States’ hands were shaking, and he couldn't breathe and—

Breath returned to the United States as James began to take over. The man slowed and calmed their breaths and stopped their hands from shaking.

United States was in control still, but James was now keeping their body calm.

“I can take over now if you want to go into our head and talk with your children,” James offered. United States didn’t want to leave his people, but…he couldn’t. He couldn’t fight right now; every instinct in his body was yelling at him to get on his knees and beg for mercy, from his father, from God, and accept whatever punishment he deserved. 

His fear of his father, a fear he didn’t realize was this strong, made him a liability in battle. He had to leave. 

So, United States backed away, and James took control.

“We need to prepare a counterattack. If we lose our force here, independence dies with us,” James said, turning his horse back towards the camp. He needed to get Jonathan’s weapon so he could fight.

He promised his brother he would do it, so he had to.

“I will send men to loop around the British and fire on them once they get behind them. Are you going to join them?” General Washington asked. James shook his head.

“Britain is with these troops. He’ll be keeping an eye on me. If I leave, I give it away,” James pointed out, glazing back at the approaching soldiers, “I need to stay here to draw eyes away.”

General Washington nodded and rushed off to rally men to fight as James returned to his tent.

“It’s wrong to fight,” Rebecca, a new human that had appeared in their head sometime in the last few months, said. She always advocated for them to give up and surrender to Britain because it would be safer.

Like Britain hadn’t hurt them before. Like Britain hadn’t made a habit of hurting them and hurting them until everything hurt.

Like Britain was someone who cared about them.

“He’ll hurt us if we surrender, Rebecca, you know this. We need to protect ourselves, and this is the best way to do that,” James responded.

“That’ll just make him madder. We can probably still convince him to show mercy if we surrender now,” Rebecca argued, some trace of fear in her voice. Despite the fact that James hated what she was saying, it was clear she did it out of actual concern for Jonathan and the states.

“We’re not going to surrender, Becca. We’re going to fight him, win this battle, win this war, and then we’ll be safe,” James said, voice dropping to a whisper, “Then we’ll finally be safe.”

• ───────────────── •

September 22, 1776

Britain hated spies. He hated traitors. He hated everything about them. He hated being tricked and deceived. 

So when parts of New York City began to burn, Britain immediately suspected that Thirteen Colonies’ sinful rebels must have been behind it. So when they found a man with physical evidence that proved he was a spy, he was eager to make an example of him.

With Scotland standing beside him, Britain listened as the young man gave his last words before he died. Britain shut his eyes as the man hung. Too many young lives were to be lost in this rebellion. The man had been a rebel and traitor but was so young. How many young lives were Thirteen Colonies going to cut short before he gave in? How many were going to die in this foolish war?

How many good men did his son tempt into sin?

This spy, Nathan Hale, he might have been an illegal combatant, but he behaved with great resolution, and although Britain abhorred what he had done, he could respect the man for his strength. 

Facing death was no easy feat, and the man faced it honorably. 

“I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country” had been the man’s final words, and jealousy burned within Britain that his son, a man who had betrayed his family, who was attempting to drag so many others into that same sin, had inspired loyalty so deep. What good had that child done to deserve this?

“Crùn?” Scotland’s familiar voice asked from beside him, a gentle hand placed on his back. “Are you okay?”

“I hate this all, and I want it to be over. It is time to stomp out this rebellion before more people die and time to return my son home,” Britain snapped. 

Regardless of what these rebels believed, he was not a man who wanted to murder men so young.

God, please ensure that all those who pass early in this sinful rebellion make it to your Holy gates. Even those who have been tempted into rebellion ensure that they find peace. I am sorry that I could not protect the son you so graciously gifted me from sin, but I promise that I will save him from sin and help his soul be cleansed. In Jesus’ Name, I pray, Amen.

With the victory at Brooklyn and their control over New York City secured, Britain hoped they would soon capture Washington or Thirteen Colonies. Both would be a big enough blow to the rebellion that it might help it fall apart, end sooner.

Britain wanted nothing more than for this to be over soon.

[un-pearable]

okay post sonic symphony post recap :D

1st mezzanine sweep (could see both the orchestra + the singers excluding when they went in the audience at one point) + we were right next to the projector (cool!!!!) and some of the speakers (ouch)

orchestral:

setlist (as best i remember, i wasn’t writing it down, PLEASE correct me):

sonic 1

sonic cd

sonic 2

sky sanctuary

sonic mania

“welcome to 3D”

believe in myself/it doesn’t matter medley

chao garden

“three new ones”

rooftop run

aquarium park/planet wisp

frontiers medley w/ stuff from third DLC

i was so excitedly surprised to see the new visuals!!! they did a really great job combining the new origins cutscenes with gameplay and the timing was INCREDIBLE esp for a live show. infinite kudos and honestly i can appreciate them waiting two years to actually do this since the cutscenes really tied to first few medleys together

conductor absolutely CRUSHED IT dude was very understanding that the audience was going to be Losing It consistently and he made it work. so much love to that orchestra they did a stellar job and im so sad they’ll get overshadowed by the vocal parts (which. yeah obviously. but they did SUCH great work and the conductor did a great job directing the audiences applause to them)

felt bad they had to stop between every single medley for applause but such is life . also experiencing live audience reactions for stuff like the chemical plant zone drowning trap and amy being playable in the metal sonic race was amazing

enjoyed the sky sanctuary medley even though it took the place of the sonic 3k music overall, so much kudos to the video team that was SO cool (AND IT HAD THE FRONTIERS ANIMATED SPECIAL!!!!! YEAHHHH WIN FOR KNUCKLES FANS EVERYWHERE)

the believe in myself/it doesn’t matter one’s are always so sweet to me i love how they frame them using the cutscenes from each of their respective stories + the end card 🥺 now do that for everyone else’s themes!!!!!!!!!!

i’m definitely forgetting at least one bit in there but it was so delightful all around, the new arrangements were so fun, unleashed sweeps as always but one guy near me was SUPER passionate about aquarium park im glad he was happy. the frontiers medley ended w/ the new supersonic form and having not watched that trailer this was the BEST possible way to see that new content holy SHIT!!!!!!!!

intermission: that was the single most positive bathroom i’ve ever been in and i mean that in the least weird way possible. everyone was so so so excited and complimentary (ty to the person who liked my pins and whose fiancé liked the tails one. i like it a lot too :]) also kudos to the stunning wave cosplayer i saw she was killing it!!!!! molly whoever you were i hope you enjoyed the second half as much as i did

vocal tracks:

setlist (i actually did write this one down):

i am all of me

what i’m made of

open your heart

knight of the wind

escape from the city

(new!!) superstars intro theme

his world

reach for the stars

fist bump

endless possibility

(fake out ending)

break through it all

undefeatable

live and learn

the fake out of having only the orchestra on stage and then l having i am all of me just START even before johnny + jun got on stage. incredible. we were all so distracted i have to find a clip of the audible chaos when the music started going and everyone clocked it was SHADOW FIRST. anyway so so so funny they only showed cutscenes from shth . no gameplay. gee wonder why

interesting structure too, compared to the order of the OG one in 2021 (which focused more on ramping up to the classics + live n learn at the end) this order bookended some of the less popular songs (reach for the stars and the new superstars theme particularly) with the BIG names

you should have heard how much people lost it when johnny said “you are… what i’m made of” i’m so proud of you sonic symphony audience. we are all sonic heroes appreciators

oh also johnny + everyone’s clumsy attempts to name drop/imply song names in their inbetweens. hilarious. astounding. i’m glad we’re your knight johnny

^ re: prev i NEED a recording of that it was glorious. if anyone has one hmu

literally two minutes before the second half started i was telling my beloved friend i dragged along that all i needed to be happy was for them to have kept knight of the wind and it was the FOURTH SONG . WIN FOR JAY. 3 of my top fives within the first twenty mins of act 2. incredible

obviously escape from the city floored everyone. i think that got the most people singing but we were all already exhausted vocally it was very funny hearing what lines people mumbled. but it DID have the most call and response, with the biggest songs they would really just shut off the mics and let the audience sing a lot of lines it was so so fun

johnny took his leave from the stage (and complimented + thanked dave vives and also the fandom), said goodnight, and sometime around now tomoya ohtani was brought on (he deserved more applause and did eventually get it)

superstars theme was cool!!!! but right after city escape was funny bc . no one knows it. you go from most singable theme imaginable to everyone sitting as upright as possible and the half that wasn’t already recording to whip out their phones to capture it especially as they introduce it as “the first time this song has EVER played on this side of the ocean” lmao. hope you liked it london i’m glad you took us down a peg

his worrrrrrlddddd we all love it. we were all so tired. also we kept fumbling the lines bc we all like the zebra head version and rappings hard. i get it. video team did a fun job remixing the visuals for sonic + shadow + silver focus sections though it was really cool

reach for the stars really had people peetering out over the length partly bc we were all exhausted vocally and partly bc it’s sadly less iconic

i could not take fistbump seriously bc they had our beloved ian jr front and center for the whole video. it was glorious. they started w gadget for the opening bit and then bam ian jr everywhere. amazing . got a whole games worth of cutscenes with his beautiful face you did your creator (who was IN THE AUDIENCE) proud

good break before endless possibility though

possibilities are endless. ‘nuff said

jk the video was STUNNING and a lot of it was the opening cutscene which remains some of the best sonic animation ever to this day. and this song REALLY showcased how well the orchestra worked simultaneously with the band it was glorious . the use of the werehog transformation scene in time with:

mwa. stunning choice. and once again damn the band’s vocalist (dave vives) CRUSHED IT. johnny gave him a shout out for being a worthy successor at the shows he can’t attend and it was so so so deserved y’all are in for a treat

around here my ears + voice started genuinely feeling weird. the sacrifices we make for an absolutely wild experience (it’s all fine now though dw <3)

at this point they thanked everyone for coming + the band walked off stage and they turned all the lights off for a joke. me knowing they wouldn’t leave w/o live and learn was skeptical <- totally forgot they had a whole other guest star who hadn’t done his signature contribution yet

“one more” chanting ensued and my bro says he thinks they definitely had someone planted to say that but like. they did way more than one more. no way that was an intentional phrase

the band returned!!!! KELLIN QUINN KILLED IT

it’s dead. it’s dead and gone . my hearing and also the ability to play sonic music it’s been forever changed . hearing those incredible songs from frontiers + a full live orchestra backing up the astounding vocals (HOW) was incredible. this is when i could feel the literal balcony shaking . my vocal chords are going to kill me tomorrow

obligatory “just one more” was undefeatable and ngl im so glad they did it second, the hype up with break through it all made it even better despite them going the opposite in the game . should have used the cooler going supersonic clip from the trailers rather in game though . no one is immune to undefeatable + the extending music video was crazy good

ANOTHER “one last one” in which johnny was called back on stage, pretended to not know what people were asking for/what he was supposed to sing, got the ENTIRE crowd yelling the name of the song, and then and he + kellin absolutely crushed live and learn

it’s live and learn. it’s the perfect end note ft. quinn’s unparalleled vocals. what more do you need

they showed the really funny still shot of shadow overlaid on the moon for the last shot of the video and i know it’s the actual ending but it lingered for like 15 seconds and i couldn’t stop laughing . they showed all the dialogue captions leading up to him dying so i though they were going to show him falling to earth but nah. stock render brain store ass pose

still COOL AS HELL!!!!!!! they had us congratulate EVERYONE and all the individual band members and the orchestra and im so so so happy with how it went . one million thanks to these wonderful people they did a great job

a couple literally got engaged in the lobby. one group started belting sonic underground on like the third floor of the stairway. it was incredible. the oscar’s could never top this ty dolby theaterrr

absolutely incredible all around . special shout out to: the people lowkey cosplaying while still in formalwear (woman in a beautiful white dress wearing a rouge hairpiece i salute you. guy in blue suit and guy in orange suit you’re amazing. woman in the fanciest amy rose dress i’ve ever seen im in love). the people with awesome t-shirts i am among your ranks we love a fandom with cool shirt designs. people in full on cosplay i am so so happy for all the diversity in characters i saw. the line for merch that stretched all the way back into the theater at the end: what was the theater staff doing that was bonkers. the people handing out stickers that i missed i Will be stalking your online stores. all the people in normal formal wear carrying their plushies? amazing. the world is beautiful. goodnight everyone

[trickstarbrave]

i wrote smth....

im writing out of order again sorry

anyways this is from the vivi au. post azura shrine being destroyed i gotta go back and write that. and their introduction. and stuff.

vivienne from @mulberrycafe

--

It was quiet, just the two of them warming up by the heartfire. It was the dead of night, the only sound being the crackling embers and wind outside. Vivienne had woken up after everyone else went to sleep, being left beside Steren who opted to stay awake to watch over him. It’s not like he wanted to go back to bed after all that anyways. 

“... Your parents are dead then.” Vivienne finally said. Steren stiffened slightly. 

“... Yes.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Vivienne asked quietly, and Steren had to sigh. 

“I knew it would make everything a lot more… Awkward.” He had said he ended up there after trying to make a deal with a daedric prince to see his parents again. If he had said plainly that his parents were dead everyone would know he didn’t want to be alive anymore. What were they supposed to say to that? The only reason Steren didn’t end himself in the wake of his despair and disappointment that he’d never see his parents again was because he knew it would only compound his suffering. Even if he killed himself they wouldn’t be in any afterlife he would go to in this world, and he doubted Azura would suddenly look upon him favorably. 

He still didn’t know what the “Good” Daedra wanted with him. Steren thought Azura would be content that he fulfilled the prophecy with little complaints. Just like he said, he killed one of his fathers and said goodbye to the other on her orders. He did everything right. He played it by the book, and Azura was said to be one of the most benevolent princes. 

Yet here she was, trying to kill his lover and calling him Vivec. Here Mephala was, ordering his lover to kill him with that accursed fucking sword. He had no doubts Boethiah wouldn’t react the same, trying to take something from him or kill him for her own benefit. He was playing a losing game. 

“But I could have tried to help you.” Vivienne argued. “I-I could have--”

“Shh…” Steren wrapped one arm around him gently. “Vivienne, you did help me.” 

“No I didn’t--”

“Vivi,” Steren placed one hand on his cheek, his thumb stroking the skin, looking into his duo colored eyes. “You didn’t have to know to help me.” In all honesty, Vivienne trying to reassure him constantly or watching him like a hawk would have probably only put a strain on their relationship. “But you did. You helped me more than you know.” Steren took a breath, trying to steady himself from his emotions.

“When I met you I had nothing. I was in a world I didn’t know, a time I didn’t understand, in the most bizarre circumstances. I was used to nothing but being pushed around and thought I had… Nothing else to live for.” Steren continued stroking his skin. “I wasn’t ready to talk about it. I was certain it was over for me. And yet…” He felt a tickle at his heart and the subtle sensation of tears trying to sting at his eyes. “I started to feel… Alive again.” He took another breath. “I started to enjoy the walk. Enjoying seeing Skyrim.” His arm around Vivienne grew a bit tighter. “I… Enjoyed listening to you laugh. Listening to you sing. Watching you smile.” He knew Vivienne wasn’t always sincere, but it was never out of malice, just fear that the people he loved wouldn’t stay with him if he wasn’t. And besides, Steren wasn’t always sincere either. “I… I wanted to be here, with you. More than anything.” 

“But your parents,” Vivienne said softly, “If they’re dead in your world, what if they’re alive here?” It made sense to guess. Azura was typically one to try and give people what they asked for, at least somewhat. Steren also toyed around with the idea himself; what if in this world Nerevar or Voryn were still alive? He found a book at the college that offhandedly mentioned the nerevarine defeated Dagoth Ur, and shortly afterwards Baar Dau fell and many still blamed the eruption on Dagoth Ur. It was possible that somewhere in this world one of his parents had been brought back to life and was living out there. But then again, they wouldn’t really be Steren’s parents, now would they? If the nerevarine actually was Nerevar reborn, that meant Steren was never born and thus, no one for Nerevar’s soul to cling to. And on top of that, what if they didn’t even want to be acknowledged as Nerevar at all? They could have their own life and identity they built for themselves. 

How uncomfortable would it be to have someone come up to you and call you “Nerevar” and to be told they’re your child from another lifetime and another world? Even if they believed him, that would only add to their problems. They wouldn’t know anything about Steren. They wouldn’t love him. They wouldn’t have been waiting for him. They were probably still processing everything from their time in Vvardenfell. And that was only considering if Steren could find them. Did he really want to spend years, decades, or even centuries chasing after his past again? Chasing after his ‘family’? 

“I’ve spent so long chasing after answers of who my parents were.” Steren confessed. “Who I was supposed to be.” Steren had died one lifetime chasing after that, and all it had really done was gotten him killed. “I put myself in harm's way time and time again for those answers. But…” Steren’s eyes were firm in their resolve. “I know everything I need to. I know who my parents were. And I know that they loved me more than anything.” Gods did he know that. Even mad and crazed as Dagoth Ur, Voryn Dagoth still loved him. Still called Steren his son. Still wanted to have Steren in his arms and mourned the time he lost to see Steren grow up. And Nerevar loved him so much he couldn’t bare to leave him alone even in death, and continued watching over all of his descendants. 

“I don’t want to spend more of my life looking for versions of my parents that won’t even remember me. They might be considered the same by a daedric prince, but they won’t know me or remember me. They might not even love each other in this world, let alone had me.” It was kind of hard to fathom is parents not loving each other--far harder than to imagine himself never being born. Steren was born of a union that was forbidden, after all, and it was easier to picture Nerevar never going through with the pregnancy rather than risk his child being hurt or left alone like he inevitably was. 

“But…” 

“Vivienne,” Steren continued. “I’m happy here.” He was being completely honest. “I’m happy being with you. I’m happy waking up getting to see you every day. Far more happy than I ever was chasing answers.” He then smiled softly, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I’m choosing to be here with you. I’m choosing to be happy.” 

Slowly, Vivienne settled down, snuggling into him properly. He wrapped the blanket around the both of them, letting them share each other’s warmth and sit in silence to listen to the crackling fire. 

“I don’t know if you’ll be safe with me…” 

“Is anywhere in Tamriel really safe?” Steren asked, making a joke, resulting in Vivienne suppressing a laugh.

“I’m serious,” Vivienne countered. “I… I don’t know why Azura did that. I don’t know why she called me Vivec--why she hates me. I’m not Vivec.” 

“No, you aren’t.” Steren reassured him. “I would know it if you were.” He had met Vivec before, after all. In multiple lifetimes. He knew the warrior-poets mannerisms, his strange habits, and his way of speaking. He knew his flaws and how he tried to do what he thought was right even if it hurt others, or how he could be self-serving when he wanted to be. But Vivienne was… Soft. Insecure. Afraid--afraid of being alone, of being abandoned, or being hurt. If he lied and seduced it was because he thought he had to to survive, not to gain something more than he already had. Vivec was selfish because he started with nothing, and Vivienne was scared because of the same circumstances rather than selfish. “I didn’t think Azura was one to judge people so harshly based on appearances alone…” Sure, Vivienne’s skin condition was odd, but just as easily he could have been cursed at birth by Vivec out of spite or as a misguided “blessing”. 

“But the power--I-I destroyed the statue--”

“You are also dragonborn.” Steren added. “I’ve seen you devour a dragon���s soul and leave nothing but bones behind. Other stories from the nords say the dragonborn can level mountains or destroy entire cities. It’s not impossible you killed some daedra and destroyed a statue.”

“It doesn’t… Feel right.” Vivienne admitted. “Sorry, I’m not making any sense…”

“You’re tired.” Steren reassured him. “We can worry about it in the morning.” He then scooped Vivienne up, now that the two were warmed up properly. “In the meantime, why don’t we sleep a little bit more?”

“Mm…” Vivienne hummed softly.

Tucked into bed, Steren was even more firm in his resolve, holding Vivienne close to try and wash away the helplessness he felt as Kaidan had to carry Vivienne back instead. 

He was happy here. He was choosing his own happiness over the past, for once. He was deciding to leave whatever the Good Daedra had planned behind and to make his own happiness if they wouldn’t give it to him. His parents were dead and he would never return to their arms being in another world, but that didn’t mean he had to despair. He found something just as important right here, in his arms. 

No matter how much the daedra tried to take this happiness from him, Steren wouldn’t let him. He finally had something all his own, and he wasn’t going to let anyone take it from it. Not now, not ever.

[m0ther-of-p3arl]

wait. song exchange. you give me your dnp coded songs and i’ll give you mine

YAY YAY YAYYYY OKAYY!!!!!! YAY :)))) hmmm let me choose. just a few. hhhfdhfhs this is the difficult. also it might get a bit parasocial cough cough dont blame me ok . its gonna be a long one

Fences by Paramore. This is THE Dan Howell song and no one can convince me otherwise like. Just look at the lyrics. It's absurd. "I'm sitting in a room/made up of only big white walls and in the hall/there are people looking through the window in the door/they know exactly what we're here for/don't look up, just let them think/there's no place else you'd rather be/you're always on display/for everyone to watch and learn from/don't you know by now?/you can't turn back/because this road is all you'll ever have/and it's obvious that you're dying, dying/just living proof that the camera's lying". not much else to say it speaks for ITSELFFF

Such Great Heights by The Postal Service. honestly this one is just cute. and the beginning lyrics remind me of just the sappy soulmateism that dan and phil have where they were just obviously MADE FOR EACH OTHER yk??? "I am thinking it's a sign/that the freckles in our eyes/are mirror images and/when we kiss they're perfectly aligned". FOR FUCK'S SAKEEEEEe this song just makes me sappy about Them. hgshdfhsdhfdn. "And I have to speculate/that god himself did make/us into corresponding shapes/like puzzle pieces from the clay".

Rose-Colored Boy by Paramore. DAMN again with the paramore i guess they just write dnp coded songs bc i dont even listen to them that much. anyway this song is just about phil being an optimist and trying to make dan feel happy as well and it's just sooo :((( "rose colored boy, i hear you're making all that noise about/the world you want to see/and i'm so annoyed/cos i just killed off what was left of the optimist in me". it makes me ILL it makes me SICKKK TO MY STOMACHHHH

The Kids Aren't Alright by Fall Out Boy. listennn listen okay fob is like. very difficult to parse meaning from their lyrics For Me okay. it's mainly the chorus of this song that does it for me- "and in the end/i'd do it all again/i think you're my best friend/and don't you knwo that the kids aren't al, kids aren't alright/and i'm yours/when it rains it pours/stay thirsty like before" AND IM SO!!!!!! anyway ive loved this song since i was small and i think it sorta. its just like. dnp are so dedicated to each other they are never leaving each other, it's literally dan and phil against the world and it has been since the day they met. this song conveys that so thats why its on here.

September Told Me by Juice. OOUUHHH THIS SONGGGGG OUHHH IT GIVES SUCHHH 2009 VIBES FUCK MEEEE ok sorry. so this song is all about this person who's spent time with this girl and he's realizing he's in love with her and she's making him feel vulnerable and able to share himself with the world DO YOU SEE THE PARALLELS. "damn i wasn't ready/didnt think shed get me/now i wear this heart on my sleeve./barefoot in the summer/didnt think i loved her/until september told me to leave" IM GOING ISNANEN

Bliss by Muse. this song. is very similar to rose colored boy in lyrics content. it is about. loving someone who is so happy and joyful and they are there adn you are not happy and joyful. in rose colored boy, dan is tired of phil trying to help him be happier and in bliss all he wants IS TO BE HAPPYYYY LIKE PHIL. "everything about you resonates happiness/now i won't settle for less". "everything about you pains my envying/your soul can't hate anything/everything about you is so easy to love/they're watching you from above/give me all the peace and joy of your mind/i want all the peace and joy of your mind".

UHHH these are the ones!!! that i have that i havent seen others mention. specifically. because obvs there are the ones like Naked In Manhattan by Chappell Roan, Matilda by Harry Styles, and Still Into You by Paramore (MORE PARAMORE) that everyone knows and is just very obvious and dnp coded and stuff. yeah uh i have more on my playlist but honestly most of that is just vibes in which the lyrics dont fit TOO well??? im looking for more though so uh. DEFINITELY DEFINITELY DEFINITELY share your dnp songs sorry this was so long i am full of thoughts today. about them.

[lets-jam]

1, 7, 16

im gonna do this for 2077, tho if anyone else does one feel free to specify a fandom

1 - the character everyone gets wrong

hmmm a tie for me between alt and goro takemura. alt ranges from like a generic 'good woman' to the far more common evil manipulative bitch which like. id be more upset about but given we get NOTHINGGGGGGG in terms of content for her about her like i cant get TOOO mad... I GUESS. i just certainly think shas far more multifaceted or SHOULD be far more multifaceted than.... whatever the hell we got. like i think theres something interesting with her setup being like 'sharp netrunner who got hired to make something she probably very well knew was... designed to kill people and could and would be used to kill people, who had her 'curiosity take over' (some fact i heard somewhere) but then also chickened out n tried to stop it last minute, and ultimately was one of the first subjects it was used on killing her body and forever changing her entire being, being forced to survive in a cuthroat alien world of no human basis despite still 'thinking' like a human, being even more forever changed by that and like kinda playing with this idea that yeah it is unfortunate that like traumatic shit not of our choosing can like irreparably change us not for the better, and that we can have dignity/human-ness given back to us by being treated as such even if its alien to her now. course like then its... id prefer her story not being so weirdly tied to johnnys as like a girl he happened to be fucking because... she was there i guess. and thats our only like reference point for her. which is all to say she has the potential you know? and alot of people dont... get that imo. for a cyberpunk setting shes really interesting case of how/what gets treated as a human and what we do when we dont have that treatment/what we do when we're given it back smthn smthn at what point does a self end (with memories? with how we're perceived by others? etc etc) but of course we didnt get to deal with any of that cause the game refuses to even ask these questions about johnny in any real fun exploratory way. and shes only in the game cause johnny fucked her and accidentally killed her... so yeah. and then GORO god this is mostly just me beefing with all the fucking idiots horny for this guy and like he gets fics n posts made about him how he would 'abandon arasaka for youuuuuu 😚😚😚' no he wouldnt! you are literally peon trash to him! he was chosen by a god emperor and elevated in his mind! he straight up believes capitalistic order is fine cause who cares doesnt affect him anymore and its a necesarry thing! which i like! hes completely head over heels for his corporation like a true 'samurai' ie serving a lord above everything else, even 'warrior code' if that ever mattered to him. hes been deepthroating the boot for years n loves the taste! he has never once thought in his life that you were his equal, and he has never once thought of you as a friend he sees you as a true means to an end full stop! hes not some secretly good bushido samurai man! which like more people should run with! if he was given a choice between arasaka and your life he would choose arasaka 10 times over like, hes terrible and i like that, everyone else seems to not.

7 - what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

fandom antics have really made me dislike this one complete side character like this person has like 2 lines but caused such fights in the fandom that im like i guess this is real to you. some gay guy and some woman fought over this side characters sexuality and one like made some weird kin claim to posting edits of him and like!!!! sometimes i have to remember people are unwell. it was fun for a time to watch ppl bitch about that for a while n see all the vague posting that or goro for reasons stated above

16 - you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

lmao sex god johnny silverhand. and related to that johnnys hologram being able to physically interact with v outside their body... ppl took like some 'its there for the cinema' stuff where he shoves v and like grabs their hands and ran with it now we have hard light hologram sex everywhere... even tho ppl shouldve just gotten freaky with it and had them like possession mutually masturbating using vs body like them as a single...being, cause again vs body is the only real thing in this equation and id like abit more realism if im going into some silverv smut, but those are few and far between the hologram sex featuring hologram cum and hologram fingering it just bugs me casue like the draw for me at least is they cant interact like normal separate people, nor can they 'feel' as in feel things like normal separate people, nor ARE they normal separate people like their whole setup is weird, they are literally the same person!!!! and i hate it when people dont get weird n creative in those paramaters with what we're given. esp when johnny flat out says 'masturbation is the only way for us to have sex' too. plus i love the draw of not being able to love or live or interact like you want to... famously i love a 'love' that cant be for whatever reason, despite it being there real girl what were you doing at the devils sacrement self report but it did bug me