#YOUR LIFE WAS SO UNFAIRLY SNUFFED OUT BEFORE YOUR TIME

[emmiefish]

Collaboration fan comic covers for the late sapphic show First Kill.

Line art by the ever talented @oimata !

Colors and layout by me!

[whathappenedtodecember]

contributing my own propaganda, if i may

chara's absence doesn't only impact the plot; it IS the plot. there is no undertale without chara. from the very beginning of the game, where you give them your name, you become witness to the haunting that enables this story to even be told to begin with. their best friend, unable to die, stuck grieving them in an endless time loop, is stuck in the inbetween form of chara's favorite flower when they were alive. as you progress through the game you find people frozen in various stages of grief, clawing their way one step after another dreadful step through life, which all could be traced back to the moment chara died. even people born way after chara's death are still impacted by the human touted as the symbol of hope, snuffed unfairly like a carrot dangled in front of a foolish animal. chara's death is symbolic of something larger, as they represented the idea of human being as a species for a community of monsters who have known entrapment longer than they have known freedom; chara's death is something so small it's tragic, because they are a child leaving behind two bereaved parents who will know nothing but the conviction that they've failed the person they care about beyond belief.

in the sense that you are able to name chara after yourself, this is only made more profound by the fact that YOU are able to haunt the narrative by proxy. congratulations! your presence is a haunting. you are not supposed to be here. without your knowing it, you have doomed a kingdom into decades-old grief. and yet it is you who will save them from it; it is you who will exorcize them of your past.

anyway, enough of me rambling :3 here are some posts that i like re: chara's hauntology:

• you-can-always-come-home's post on chara:

• doge-w-a-bloge's exploration on hauntology in undertale:

• my tags from i forget what post on my priv:

edit: since i've seen other propagandas mention how chara's death greatly affect the main characters (namely, the dreemurrs), i'm going to touch lightly upon just how severely their death affects the rest of the underground!

as they were the first and last human - up until the events of the game - to ever make it in to the underground, back out, and then back in again, understandably the most visible impact they have on the denizens of the underground is their hope to one day make it out of their prison. this hope is bolstered by asgore's agenda of, well, killing other humans that fell down, which was put into motion the moment chara and asriel passed away. you can see tendrils of this decision forming the life passion and ultimate goals of several other main characters - undyne and papyrus, dedicating their lives as royal guards, with their opposing views on humanity; alphys, desperate to prove herself, created an imitation of human soul and a whole other host of unspeakable things, as well as keeping others, including part of chara's ghost, shut in her basement; mettaton, building his hotel atop a memorial that commemorated chara and asriel's death.

you can even see small details that all speak to a longing for a past where chara was present: gerson talks of the way asgore still called toriel pet names, when they were still together before their children died; napstablook maintained a snail farm where asgore was likely their only or largest benefactor, even when asgore sucks at making snail pies, all because his family was no longer together. the hearth was safely warm in the ruins; the tools still blunted down.

Haunting the Narrative Semifinals

Haunting the narrative means that the character’s absence heavily impacts the plot. They’re not present or active in the story when their influence is most strongly felt, whether they’re alive or dead!

[phantom-curve]

concept!

an AU in which the boys are all alive, normal high school students, Julie has been kicked out of her music program, and Luke falls in love with her in three days while simultaneously bringing her back to her first love of all: music.

otherwise known as: my characters in my novel aren’t doing what they’re supposed to so I’m projecting them onto characters that share similar traits in an attempt to wrangle them into obedience.

also, I’m probably going to end up writing an entire freakin fanfic out of this so ya know, lemme know if you wanna be tagged.

enjoy!

It had been a year since the last time Julie Molina’s fingertips touched down on the ivory piano keys. A year where she wouldn’t, couldn’t, play a single note to save her life without dissolving into a mass of hysterical panic. A year where even the thought of opening her mouth to sing left her throat constricting like she was allergic to the very idea. A year of deafening silence in her household, nobody even daring to pop a CD in the living room player anymore. An entire year without her mother.

In short, Julie had been having A Very Bad Day for a literal year now. Today wasn’t about to change that for her.

“What do you mean it would be best for me to find a new music program?” 

The words were a strangled cry, somehow escaping around the thick blockade in her throat.

“I’m sorry, Julie, but it’s out of my hands. I’ve done everything I can. The music program is very competitive and the requirements to keep a spot open are strict. I’ve held off the school for a year now, but...” Ms. Harrison sighed. It was obvious she didn’t like this any more than Julie did. “Participation is 75% of your grade. I can’t grade what doesn’t exist.”

The words were soft, but Julie felt the sharp sting of them cutting straight through to her heart. Ms. Harrison gave her a sympathetic look. Julie knew it wasn’t her teacher’s fault. She had been given chance after chance to fix this mess, to fix herself. The failure was hers and hers alone.

“Thank you...for everything, Ms. Harrison.”

The words were a goodbye. They both knew it. Ms. Harrison’s returning smile was gentle and sad.

“I’m so sorry, Julie. Good luck.”

And just like that, Julie Molina was no longer a vocal studies student at Los Feliz High School. 

Julie left the classroom feeling for all the world like a woman adrift in an endless sea. Who was she without music? Obviously the answer was whatever version of herself she had been for the last year, but was that really who she was now? Was she really doomed to lose that part of her identity entirely, like a limb that had to be amputated out of necessity but it’s ghost still lingered, useless and ineffective? The thought of existing like this shell of herself for the rest of her life felt overwhelmingly sad but also undeniable. After all, Julie’s music had always been tied to her mother. Without her mom, there was no music left in Julie’s heart anyway.

It was those morose thoughts that consumed her as she made her way down the school hallways, chin tucked low against her chest, hat brim pulled over her eyes so no one would notice the tattletale tear marks down her cheeks. After a year of practice, Julie had become extremely adept at navigating the school hallways basically blind. She hardly ever ran into people anymore. Obviously, because today was The Worst Day of 2020, her luck had to give out exactly at that moment.

“Oof!” 

Julie’s breath huffed out in a surprised exhale. With a graceless flailing of arms, she fell backwards smack dab onto her backside, her books completely scattering across the deserted hallway. She blinked a few times in shock, her surroundings coming into focus as she steadied her breathing. 

“Hey, watch where you’re-oh! Oh. Sorry, shoulda....shoulda done a better job lookin out.”

One large hand extended in front of her face. Julie followed the line of bare skin upwards to an impressive display of biceps peeking out from the deep side cut of the boy’s homemade tank top. Her gaze wandered further, taking in the shaggy almost too-long brown hair shoved unceremoniously underneath an orange beanie, the soft green blue eyes that were gazing at her with a clear apology. Her own eyes skipped across his face as realization dawned. Well great. Exactly what she didn’t need. Los Feliz’s very own rebel rock-n-roll bad boy here to witness her downfall. She hastily scrubbed the leftover tears from her cheeks, rising from the ground without his help thank you very much.

“No, you’re right. It was my fault. Sorry.” 

Her words came out in a clipped rush, red staining her cheeks. She tucked her head back down, maneuvering around the unfairly cute boy in front of her so she could begin to collect her books. Before she could grab more than one, a neat stack was being gently tucked into her arms.

“Nah, Molina. I had my head in the clouds. Second nature to blame someone else for my problems.” The cheeky wink he flashed her was ruined by the thread of contempt running through his last sentence. His careless, cocky shrug was a bit more convincing. “’Sides, everyone knows not to get in the way of a woman on a mission. You clearly have places to be.” 

He dipped his head, eyes bouncing across her face as he tried to catch her gaze. She gave him a small, tight smile, reaching up to tuck a lose curl behind her ear. His answering grin felt like the first glimpse of sunshine after a month of rain. The crack in her heart ached in an unfamiliar way, Julie’s hand rising of it’s own accord to rub at the dumb muscle. Their eyes held for a long moment, a weird tension crackling between the two, before Julie bit her lip and broke the stare down. Like Lucas freaking Patterson, king of the Los Feliz musical department, would ever understand what she was dealing with right now. Steeling herself against his too warm gaze, she stepped back.

“Yep. Places to be. Like...not here, so...see ya.”

Her hand rose in a stiff wave. The awkward exit was not her best work, admittedly. And was it just her imagination or had the spark behind his eyes dimmed at her dismissal? Whatever. Didn’t matter. Julie wasn’t a vocal student here anymore. Her path and Luke’s were destined to shoot in opposite directions from this moment forward: his star rising higher as his band continued to take the musical scene by storm, her star hurtling its way down to Earth in a pathetic blaze of glory before snuffing itself out on impact. They wouldn’t meet again after this.

Without a second look back, Julie turned her back on the dejected puppy moonlighting as a teenage boy in front of her and escaped out of the school into the warmth of another glorious LA afternoon. 

[roseinaugust]

Like an Old Enemy

I'm Still Better Than You

Summary: Miraculous Enemies AU. Gabriel Agreste has the Black Cat Miraculous in his possession, so when his wife, Emilie, "disappears," he sends his son, Adrien, undercover to pose as Ladybug's partner. Two years later, the once famous duo are sworn enemies. Marinette might have loved Chat Noir once, but now she would stop at nothing to defeat him. Adrien will do whatever it takes to bring his mother back. Best friends in their civilian lives, Adrien and Marinette find obstacles and complications when they can no longer deny their love for each other. But will they be able to understand and forgive the mistakes of their past? Or will they be doomed to end as bitter rivals a second time?

Rated: T

Pairings: Ladybug/Chat Noir Enemies, Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng Mutual Pining

Word Count: 1,984

Read on: ao3

It’s not like tormenting innocent Parisians was particularly high on Adrien Agreste’s list.

In fact, he rather disliked the whole ordeal. But what did it matter when he had the chance to bring his mother home? Why should he care about these inconsequential citizens when he could fix the mistake that has haunted him for two years? Yes, Adrien would do anything to bring his mother home—even if that meant working alongside his father to steal the Ladybug Miraculous.

They say, “time heals all wounds,” but the wound from his mother’s disappearance had scarred, leaving him rough, jagged, and in constant remembrance. Two years have passed since that restless morning when Adrien first slipped on the ring of the Black Cat. He was two years older, and she was still gone.

Adrien stood before the grand portrait of his once picture-perfect family. Presenting the Agrestes: world-renowned fashion designer Gabriel on the left, actress and philanthropist Emilie on the right, and their son, model and teen superstar Adrien, in the middle. He remembered the agonizing hours spent posing for the painter. Gabriel’s hands clutched both Emilie and Adrien’s shoulders, leashed like dogs with collars.

He felt the phantom touch of his father’s fingers digging into his collarbone as Adrien recalled the long hours trapped under Gabriel’s thumb. Internally, he had screamed. Adrien wanted to break free from his hold—wanted to ask for help—but all anyone saw was a handsome boy smiling with his picturesque family. If only they noticed how desperately Adrien had clung to his mother; her hand clasped tightly in his. Emilie was his beacon of courage; the bravest person he knew. Clinging to her hand, Adrien had hoped that one day they might break free from Gabriel's grasp. How foolish he had been.

Like the light from a candle snuffed out too quickly, his mother had vanished, leaving only the thin curls of smoke, promising a warm return. But that return would only come if he succeeded. He has already failed once, and he would not fail again.

As he stared at the ostentatious oil portrait, Adrien’s gaze lingered on his mother. Throughout his life, Adrien never understood how someone like her could ever love someone like his father. Now, two years after he lost the only person who ever truly loved him, he couldn’t help but wonder how she could have left Adrien behind.

Marinette was falling, again.

She silently wished Ladybug’s super agility carried over into her civilian life as she collided with the concrete outside Collège Françoise-Dupont. Her palms scraped against the gravel, breaking her fall. Marinette heard laughter—no doubt from Chloe and Sabrina. She was used to that duo delighting themselves at her displays of clumsiness. What a great start to a new school year.

“Are you okay, Marinette?” A concerned voice asked from above her. She raised her head slightly, to see Adrien Agreste’s outstretched hand. Her heart skipped as he helped her up. Instead of dropping her hand, Adrien squeezed her fingers lightly and turned it over, palm facing the sky. Her skin came alive as he rubbed his thumb over the rough skin.

Marinette pulled her hand from his grasp and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She chided herself for the blush that spread over her face. Adrien was her best friend; she can't act like this around him. “Oh! I’m fine. Clumsy as always.” She was thankful her voice came out steady; better to trip over her feet than over her words. The corner of Adrien’s mouth quirked upward before he bent down to retrieve the textbooks Marinette discarded when she fell.

“You should be more careful,” He grinned, slinging the books in the crook of his arm. “You could get hurt one of these days.” Marinette held her arms aloft to receive her books, but Adrien ignored the gesture.

Marinette dropped her arms and scoffed. “With my track record, it’s bound to happen someday.” A shrill tone rang from the bell, warning the starting of class. Adrien moved the stack of textbooks into his opposite arm. He cocked an eyebrow and raised his newly vacated elbow towards Marinette.

“Well, let’s make sure that day isn’t today.”

Marinette's cheeks flared for a second time as they linked arms. She was thankful for his stability as he led her up the stairs. Surely she would have fallen again without him. She released him at the top of the stairs and ducked her head, letting her hair shield her face. They entered Mlle. Bustier’s class and took their seats in the second row. Adrien slid Marinette's books across the desk they shared, stopping only when they were in front of her.

“Thanks.”

“Anything for you, Mari,” He gave her one last smile before returning his attention to the front of the classroom. Marinette tried to steel her expression. Why was it that every time she started to feel normal around Adrien again, he would smile and knock her back down to the sputtering fool that love always made her?

Marinette attempted to concentrate on the lesson, but her eyes slipped more than once to the boy that sat on her left. She didn't want to be in love with him. She didn't want to be in love with anyone—not again—but she especially didn't want to be in love with Adrien Agreste. He was charming, funny, and vulnerable when he was with her. He was everything she could ever want. But she knew another boy that fit that description, and he ruined everything.

No, it was better this way. Marinette could keep her feelings down. It was better than putting her trust in another too-perfect boy and getting her heart broken. Adrien shifted next to her. His knee gently brushed against hers underneath the table. She averted her gaze in attempt to look nonchalant.

Marinette turned her attention towards the window just in time to see a small purple butterfly fluttering past. She stood up suddenly, interrupting her teacher, "Mlle. Bustier? Can I go to the restroom?" Marinette didn't wait for permission. She raced out of the classroom and ducked into the vacant bathroom. She didn't bother locking the stall as she called on her transformation, "Spots on!" The black and red spotted jumpsuit spread around Marinette. With a wave of her hand, the magical mask appeared, covering her eyes. She was Ladybug: defender of Paris.

She leapt through the bathroom window, tossing her yo-yo to swing across the busy Parisian street. She had to reach the akuma before it found its victim—or even worse, before Chat Noir found her. Hawkmoth’s akumatized villains had been getting more and more powerful. She wasn’t sure how much longer she would be able to fight them and fend off Chat Noir at the same time.

A figure fell from the sky, landing in front of Ladybug, and cut off her path to the akuma. She halted, stopping a mere inches away from her enemy. She was face-to-face with the boy she once loved, before he destroyed everything. There was a time where Ladybug thought she knew him inside and out, the only exception being his identity. Now, he stands before her with a stranger’s heart. The Chat Noir she knew and loved was gone. Perhaps he never existed.

“Chat Noir, what an unpleasant surprise.” She said, grimacing, and twirled her yo-yo to form a shield. Over his shoulder, Ladybug saw that she was too late. The akuma found its victim, M. Ramier. He was a quiet man, often unfairly criticized for his interest in pigeons and a frequent victim of Hawkmoth’s akumitizations. M. Pigeon, his akumatized form, was more of a nuisance than an actual threat. If she could incapacitate Chat Noir long enough, Ladybug could defeat M. Pigeon with plenty of time to be back before her science class began.

“Yes, because I am so delighted to see you, Bug.” Chat Noir’s eyes narrowed, menacingly. “This is exactly how I like to spend my time.” He pounced, swinging his retractable metal staff towards her. Ladybug deflected, observing her surroundings to form a plan. Ladybug could defeat them—if only Chat Noir would stop talking.

“You know,” she said throwing her yo-yo as a grappling hook towards a lamp post, “You are more then welcome to stop working for Hawkmoth. Just give up your Miraculous, then you can do whatever you like.” She swung around the lamp post and kicked Chat Noir in the chest, sending him flying towards the opposite end of the block. “Though I can’t imagine you liking anything,” she said, more to herself than to her enemy.

Chat Noir wouldn’t stay down for long. She darted towards the akumatized man flying around the park on the back of hundreds of pigeons. He circled Officer Roger. It was time for a little luck.

“Lucky Charm!” Ladybug called up her magical power. A red and black spotted slingshot fell from the sky into Ladybug’s hands. She inspected her environment, connecting the invisible dots that formed her plan. She took note of crumpled tickets scattered on the ground by Officer Roger and M. Pigeon’s position above a lamppost.

Still determining her next move, Ladybug sensed motion behind her and dropped to the ground as Chat Noir attacked. He stumbled briefly from her sudden movement. Crouching, Ladybug swung her leg out and knocked him to the ground. She stood, ready to end this unpleasant affair, when Chat Noir locked his legs around hers. His momentum forced their positions to flip. She was on the ground, grimacing at Chat Noir who kneeled above her

“Face it, Bug, you’re just not as good without me.” He leaned over to take her earrings.

“I might not be as good,” Ladybug grunted through bared teeth, “but I’m still better than you.” She pushed up, shifting his balance enough to free her arms and elbowed him in the face. His objective forgotten as his hands reached instinctively for his nose. She kicked him back, giving herself room to scramble to her feet. While Chat Noir was still distracted, she reached for her yo-yo. It wrapped around Chat Noir’s wrist seconds after it left her hand. She flung Chat Noir as far into the Parisian sky as she could before releasing him. “Bye-Bye, Kitty.” She said smugly.

Ladybug didn’t have much time before she transformed back into Marinette. She ran to the pile of discarded tickets and placed one in her slingshot. The ball arced through the air, not unlike Chat Noir, and hit the congregated pigeons keeping the akumatized villain aloft. The birds scattered slightly at the ticket’s disturbance. Ladybug shot off a few more crushed citations in quick succession. It caused enough disruption for the birds to scatter, dropping M. Pigeon. She threw her yo-yo, catching him by the ankle, and hoisted him upside down from the lamppost. The bird call fell from around his neck. Ladybug crushed it under her foot as she lowered the deakumatized M. Ramier so the ground.

"Time to de-evilize!" Ladybug shouted as she captured the akuma. A purified white butterfly flew peacefully into the morning sky.

“Thank you Mlle. Ladybug,” M. Ramier said, picking up the tickets from Officer Roger.

“Of course, M. Ramier!” She smiled politely at the man before throwing her Lucky Charm into the sky. “Miraculous Ladybug!” Swarms of the magical insects cleared the damage caused by the akumatized villain. “Wish I could stay and chat, but I gotta go. Bug out!” She waved and swung through the streets, trying to find a secluded place to detransform.

She landed in an abandoned alley behind Collège Françoise-Dupont. “Spots off,” she said, swapping her magical suit for the pink skirt and white polka dot blouse she chose for the start of school.

“Pound it,” she whispered dejectedly to herself before crawling in through the bathroom window.

[thewinedarksea]

thief/assassin au pt 4

ft. (the mention of) handcuffs and a river. also liel’s flip-floppy emotions. mildly suggestive.

(part 1, part 2, part 3, part 3.5)

Sirens drifted through the air, faint from distance. There were at least five blocks between them and Liel but she walked faster nonetheless, gait casual as she strolled down the chill city streets. 

A cold wind skittered after her, slicing through her thin shirt; she’d been counting on a getaway car to provide warmth, so she was clad only in a pair of leggings and a top made for attraction and not practicality, her toes frozen inside the thin leather of her boots. Another gust of wind and she curved her shoulders inwards, tightening her grip around the hot chocolate cup in her hands. Warmth bled through the cheap cardboard and into her fingers, a mild protection against the temperature. It was the only thing keeping her going. 

Well. That, and the promise of getting revenge on Johann’s worthless hide ten times over. Liel was thinking a lifetime subscription to some truly awful porn mailing lists, maybe a stint in a minimum security prison depending on how long it took for her to get back to her hotel. Half a million in diamonds, ripe for the taking, and she’d had to abandon them all. Idiot kid. She didn’t know what street corner Emory had picked him off of, but he could damn well put him back. 

She stepped off the street and onto a bridge, blending with the horde of pedestrians making their way across. And there, propped up against the railing, her long black coat whipping in the wind, stood Celine. 

Despite the cold and the bustle of people flowing past her she looked unbothered, eyes on the river’s banks, just one of the many citizens taking a break from her everyday life to admire the view.

The sight of her sent a confusing tangle of emotions rushing through Liel: fear, always and ever-present, because she hadn’t survived ten odd years as a criminal without a healthy dose of being able to recognize a predator when she saw one, and wanting, too, sharp and immediate as a knife to the gut. More than both of those though was the annoyance, a matchstick flare that promised to ignite.  

Liel should walk away. She should go back to her hotel, drink a staggering amount of wine, and sink into the suite’s luxurious tub until the water washed away all the frustrations and disappointments of the afternoon. She should. But Liel had just had two weeks of planning go up in smoke thanks to a jumpy kid and an early guard patrol, and all that irritation was just begging for an outlet. Celine would do nicely.

She tossed her cup into a nearby trash can and wandered over, propping herself up on the railing, so close her arm brushed Celine’s sleeve. The river below was a chaotic swirl of dark water, shiny bits of aluminum and old coffee cups caught tumbling in its hold. On its banks the sidewalks teemed with life, awash with shoppers catching up on last minute holiday gifts. 

“I was going to complain about the cold, but I find I’m plenty warm just by being around you.” 

Celine didn’t so much as glance at her, her eyes fixed on one of the cafes lining the waterway. Liel squinted, trying to make out what she was looking at, but saw nothing besides some red striped umbrellas and a few customers enjoying a meal in the freezing cold. Masochists. 

“Because you’re from hell,” Liel elaborated. “Like a demon. Hellfire. It’s very amusing.” 

A faint smirk touched Celine’s lips, but that was the extent of her reaction. No teasing, no clever remarks. Not even an acknowledgement that the last time they’d seen each other Celine had had her hands around Liel’s neck, before they’d shifted to other, less mentionable places. 

The annoyance flared brighter the longer she ignored her. Liel wanted to draw a reaction, to claw some control from her perfect grip. Crack it, like she had the night of the party, Celine’s mouth on hers, gasping and half-breathless, teeth and tongue and sweet words that had spilled like a river from her lips.

Liel smiled up at her, batting her eyelashes in the way that normally made people fall all over themselves to give her what she wanted. 

“What’s a girl have to do to get some attention around here?”

“Try coming back when I’m not working.”

Okay, see, that was just rude. Liel had been working every time they’d crossed paths, but that hadn’t stopped Celine from fucking her over or just fucking her, period. It was called a double standard, and Liel had no intention of letting it get in her way. 

“Ooh, are you on a job?” She slid closer, pressing their sides flush together, and made a production of following Celine’s gaze back to the cafe. It didn’t take long for her to hone in on the trio sitting off to one side, their clothes worth far more than the cafe’s old facade warranted. The woman on the left was definitely packing a gun. 

“A hundred dollars says it’s the one in pink.” A shot in the dark, but it landed, Celine’s expression going even more carefully still. Liel pressed the advantage. “I could make some phone calls. I’m sure the police would be very interested in knowing someone hired an assassin to go after Miss Dior and Co. over there.” 

“And I could snap your neck right now and throw your body over the edge.” Celine’s voice was as cool and dangerous as ice. “But you wouldn’t make me do that, would you pet?”

The fear came back with a vengeance, her annoyance snuffed out beneath the douse of ice water sliding down her spine. It might have been a mistake antagonizing the girl who killed people for a living. A small, small mistake. 

“That does sound unpleasant,” Liel said as lightly as she could manage. “My neck is much prettier when it’s in one piece. Tell you what, I’ll just come back when you’re not working.” 

Celine’s hand lashed out, gloved fingers wrapping around Liel’s wrist as she moved to step away. 

“Oh no,” she said softly. “You said you wanted attention.” 

She was watching Liel now, cafe abandoned for more interesting prey. Her eyes slid over Liel’s body, noting the lack of a coat, the goosebumps littering the bare skin of her arms. Despite the chill Liel felt herself heat up, all too aware that the last time Celine had seen her it had been without a stitch of clothing. From the smug slant of her mouth she remembered it, too. 

“Poor thing. You’re shivering.” She tugged Liel in front of her, her head against her shoulder. Celine was unfairly warm despite the weather, warmth bleeding from her in far more pleasant ways than the hot chocolate had managed. Damage control, Liel reassured herself as she snuggled closer, allowing herself to melt into the heat. She had to protect her pretty neck, after all.

“And here I thought we were getting along so much better,” Celine murmured. Her breath ghosted against Liel’s ear, lips brushing skin with every word. “Threats don’t suit you.”

“Everything suits me,” Liel informed the sky because, honestly, she didn’t have much more to lose. It stared back, a pale, dispassionate gray that put her in mind of a blade. “Also, I’m angry at you.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Celine’s voice echoed in her ear as she wrapped an arm around Liel’s middle, drawing her ever closer. “Why so upset, sweetling? I thought our evening together went very well.”

“You tied me to a bed.” Liel’s legs struggled to hold up beneath the assault of Celine’s pet names, the scent of her rose perfume curling around her, light as a kiss.

“I did,” Celine agreed. “But I seem to recall that you begged me to do it. Quite prettily, too.”

Liel flushed all the way down, cheeks burning red. Memories stirred, flickers of Celine’s mouth on her neck, between her legs, biting at the skin of her thighs. She’d worn the bruises she left for a week, and the memory of them a hell of a lot longer.

“You didn’t untie me,” she said, fighting to keep her voice steady. One of the hotel staff had found her and boy had that been a particularly humiliating conversation to have. She’d been lucky the maid had proven sympathetic to her tale of a prank gone wrong. Luckier still that Celine hadn’t been cruel enough to call the police.

She could sense Celine’s smirk where it rested against the side of her head. “Consider it your punishment.” 

“For what?”

“You stole a drive from me when we first met.”

“That was three months ago!”  

A few heads turned in their direction at Liel’s cry, glancing away when they saw the two of them entwined. Liel made an effort to squirm out of Celine’s grip, swearing at the lack of give. Pettiness was her deal. It looked way cuter on her.

With an exasperated noise Celine crowded her forward against the rail, bending Liel over until Celine’s chin rested on the top of her head, her body pinned between metal and flesh with no easy method of escape.

“Stay still,” Celine chided. Her grip tightened until Liel subsided, slumping back against her. “That job cost me a lot of money, to say nothing of what it did to my reputation. You’re lucky all I did was tie you up.”

And threaten to kill her, and actually try to kill her. The list went on.

 “Can’t imagine how great your reputation is going to be if you get yourself caught throwing me off a bridge,” Liel muttered.

“Believe me, there are far more interesting things I would rather to do to you.” 

That sounded promising. Interesting typically required alive, which was a step up from a watery grave. Liel wriggled even further back, pressing herself into Celine until any distance between them was eaten up. 

“Elaborate on that?” she asked, sweet as she could manage. 

Across the river Celine’s target stood. Her pink dress, terribly impractical for the weather, swirled around her legs as the wind blew again, a bright streak against the dull pavement. At the motion Celine straightened, stepping away from Liel as quickly as she’d grabbed her. 

The frigid rush of air that crept into the space she left set Liel trembling all over again, colder now that she’d found protection and lost it. 

“Business calls,” Celine said, composed once more. God Liel hated her. “You have my room key?” 

And her bracelet, and half her credit cards. Liel hadn’t taken her gun, though, so honestly she should be heralded as a paragon of self-restraint. She didn’t bring that point up though. 

“I’m still cold.” Scared and pissed off, too, but she doubted she would care about that. 

Celine’s mouth twisted in amused exasperation, and then she stripped out of her coat, wrapping the garment around Liel’s shoulders like a shawl. The fabric was warm, the scent of her perfume clinging to the silky lining. 

“Be a good girl and wait for me in my room.” She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Liel’s cheek. Her lipstick left behind a mark. “I’ll bring my handcuffs.”

“What if I say no?”

Celine paused in the middle of turning away, an eyebrow raising in mock surprise. “I thought you wanted me to elaborate. Although if you prefer the river, I will have to ask for my key back.” 

When Liel made no move to hand it over she smiled, teeth gleaming sharp in the sunlight. “It’s the Royal Suite. Don’t bother with clothes.”

[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

Love You Like a Tattoo

BTS

Jeon Jungkook/Reader [F]

Genre: Soft Badboy-ish AU, Fluff (Overwhelming Amounts), Drabble-ish

Words: 2.8k

~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: No one really believes in Jungkook’s girlfriend.  Living in a small town far out of the busy city of Seoul and depicted as the spectrum opposite of Jungkook himself.  He’s covered in tattoos, piercings anywhere he could get them and smokes like he doesn’t care if he loses a lung.  So, when he finds out you’ll be staying Seoul for the summer, he is insistent you stay with him.  Now, he eagerly awaits your arrival after such a long time.  

-Or-

Jungkook is fucking ready to see his favorite girl bc he’s mega-whipped. (Also rubbing in his friend’s face that she is- in fact- a real person and not some imaginary gf he made up is on his bucket-list)

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Holy shit, really?!” Jungkook who was sitting in the garage with his buddies practically screamed into the phone call he was on.  His friends who sat in a small, not so even, circle around a trash bin with a fire in it silenced as they all flicked their eyes over to him.  The Spring- nearly Summer- air hit the group with a crummy blanket of moisture that the fire burned away.  The garage door open as they sat located on the edge of a suburban area of the city. 

Ashtrays of grey and white and brown cigarettes, a wide selection of brands in which each boy chose to favor. Lighters from bright yellow disposable lighters to metal Zippo’s sat snug in the pockets of each boy.  A can of beer or cola in someone’s hand at all times. 

Jungkook had excused himself from a conversation about the next piercing one of his friends- Taehyung was going to get that shifted from a conversation about trying to talk Hoseok into finally getting a tattoo.  Hoseok was shockingly the cleanest skinned boy with only a few ear-piercings to his name. He almost got a septum piercing but wussed out at the last minute. 

He moved from the corner of the garage to the outside, stepping into the moist, damp air that almost teased a rain shower later into the night.  He leaned against the outside wall, phone held to his ear with his tattoo-covered arm. Pushing anxiously at the stub pierced through his tongue with the roof of his mouth. 

“You’re serious, right?  You’re not trippin’ on me because I will literally fight you if you’re pulling some prank, girlfriend or not.” 

“Did you cry when we Skyped like a week ago because I stubbed my toe on my dresser?” 

“You kicked it so hard your toenail started bleeding!” He defended as you laughed on the other line. You, his girlfriend of 3 years laughing at him. Jungkook just huffed, a smile on his lips as he shook his head. “Okay, fine.  I won’t fight you, but I’ll throw stuff at you.  What’s soft to throw?  Flowers maybe?” 

“What a charmer,” you told him. 

“I try really hard just for you,” he snickered.  Jungkook stayed silent as you told him about your plans to travel from your small little town on the coast to Seoul for the summer.  You told your folks that since you wanted to go to the University of Seoul once you finally racked up enough money, that you wanted to test the waters of city life.  

Of course, there was still a lot you had to prepare for.  Temporary living arrangements, means of travel (you’d probably walk to take a bus everywhere), estimates of how much money you’d need to actually survive a summer in Seoul, etcetera.  You had thought about calling the cheapest hotel you could find and trying to negotiate a reasonable rate for such a long stay. 

“Just stay with me, babe,” Jungkook sighed into the phone.  “It’s just me in that apartment, I don’t mind sharing.” 

“I totally forgot you moved out of your mom’s place!” You exclaimed as he just let out a fit of small giggles.  “If you really don’t mind, could I bunk with you?  I’ll pull my weight, I promise!” 

Jungkook rolled his eyes.  “Wow, do I want my girlfriend living with me?  Hmm, that’s a toughie,” he reached into his pocket, grabbing his nearly empty pack of cigarettes with his lighter inside.  Pulling one, white toxic stick and placing it between his lips, he pushed his phone to his cheek with his shoulder as he cupped around the bud and flicked his lighter.  Waiting to make sure the wind wouldn’t snuff out the flame and it would actually light.  

Taking a drawl from it, he pushed his air out.  Watching as a puff of grey smoke wafted into the dusk air.  Sun nearly out of sight behind the identical houses as the sky threatened a navy hue with clouds scattered around like cotton balls. Breathing through his nose he sighed.  It was definitely going to rain tonight.  

You laughed sarcastically through the phone as he faintly heard your mom calling you down to eat something.  He scowled a bit, knowing how late it was at the moment and you hadn’t eaten yet.  

“Coming!” You shouted to your mom as you started talking to Jungkook again.  “I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Tell me when you’re coming into town, okay?  You can stay with me and we can work everything out after that.” 

“Okay, I will.” Jungkook could hear the smile in your voice and he wished you had Facetimed him instead of a phone call so he could see it. 

“I miss you,” he told you before you were ready to cut the call.  Him hearing you roll out of bed, abandoning your books he was sure was sprawled on your bedspread. 

“I miss you too.  I’ll see you soon though,” you reassured. 

“You better.” 

It was a few minutes later when Jungkook was walking back into the garage, taking one last drawl of his smoke as he flopped himself down into his cheap, folding-camping chair.  Snuffing out his cigarette in a glass ashtray that almost needed to be emptied, he took a can of iced soda from a small cooler at his side and chugged a good half of it. A hefty blech following. 

“Is Loverboy done talking to his girlfriend?” Hoseok teased in a mocking tone.  Jungkook rolled his eyes.  His friends were solely convinced Jungkook was fibbing about his relationship and you altogether.  Not having seen you before and being so different from him; they all called bullshit. 

Jungkook flipped a solid middle finger at his friend as he erupted in stomach laughed, kicking his knees up as he stomped.  Jungkook craned his neck back, letting it hang as he starred at the white garage ceiling. 

“Girlfriend phone call or not,” Namjoon started as he finished his second can of beer for the evening, “what was the fuss about?  You yelled then went outside?  Hiding something maybe?” His smirk on his face was so obviously screaming ‘did you go outside to talk about your fake relationship away from us?’ and it made Jungkook was to throw his stupid beer car at his head.

“I’m not hiding anything,” he hissed.  He kicked his boot covered feet up, stretching them out as his heels bounced on the concrete floor.  “Y/n was talking to me about what she’s going to do when she comes down this summer,” he casually announced with a relaxed wave of his hand.  

There were approximately 4 seconds of silence before his friends were shouting or bounding from their camping chairs or crates they sat on and rushing to his side.  Grabbing him or his chair, nearly knocking him out of it.  He braced himself, tucking his boots back under his chair to stable it as he straightened his back. 

Voices of his friends bombarding him with questions of when you’re coming, for how long, why and if they’d get to meet him.  It was only an hour later that Jungkook literally had to run to the nearest bus station to get away from his friend’s just to go home. So much for having a drunk night in the garage. 

2 weeks later and Jungkook was dressed in a too expensive Adaias white shirt, black lining the edges and black strips running down his shoulders in a trio. The shirt leaving his arms open for everyone to see his tattoo littered arms and watch strapped around his left wrist. Tucked into his black jeans that run down the thick of his thigh to the slim of his calf.  His boots hitting his shin as the short strings remained untied to accommodate for his jogging. His hair was curled and wavy  from the humidity as his bangs hit his eyes. 

He jogged his way to the train station, descending the stairs from the streets to the underground railways.  Hoping down from step to step, careful to mind his footwork before he was waving between people.  It was still early in the morning, only 8 and the crowd wasn’t completely awful yet. 

Stopping and leaning against the back wall in front of your station and out of every other person’s way, he gathered his breath.  His heartbeat in his chest, but not entirely from his run here.  He wanted time to speed up so he could see and feel you that much soon.  He pulled his phone from his (unfairly deep) jean pocket and shot you a text. 

Jungkook: I’m here. Look for a handsome tattooed stranger when you step off. 

You: I was taught never to talk to strangers. 

Jungkook chuckled at your response, shaking his head as he stuffed his phone back into his pocket.  His smile he wore not wiping away once as he grew giddier with each ticking second the giant clock above his head let pass. 

30 minutes later and he was watching your train screech to a halt.  Listening to the hydraulic-powered doors hissing open before he was scanning through the push and pull crowd of people.  

“Jungkook!” He heard you before he saw you. Though he quickly locked onto your frame, dragging a suitcase behind you, another slung around your back and wearing an impossibly brightly colored rainbow-striped shirt that tucked only into the front of your black shorts.  

He laughed as he went towards you before he was barreling into your front, knocking you back a few steps as he lifted you to your toes.  Arms under you and around your waist, he shook you around like a doll as he pushed his face into your hair.  A few older adults stopped to awe before moving on and a few even sent eye-rolls from such public affection.  

He put you back down as he kept his hands on your waist, thumbing over your shirt and smiling down at you to the point his cheeks ached.  “God, I missed you,” he murmured as he pushed his lips to your forehead.  You giggled as you started convincing him to move and actually leave the station. He agreed, but only after he grabbed your rolling suitcase in one hand and snatched your hand in his other. 

Jungkook leads you to his apartment as you both step inside. Dragging your suitcase into and up out of the entrance landing, Jungkook wheels it away as he kicks off his loose, untied boots.  You untied your own hightops- a gift from Jungkook on your birthday- as you were soon up and following after him as he took off with your suitcase hostage. 

He entered his room, flicking on the light.  You looked around. “It’s so weird not seeing it through your computer webcam.” Jungkook chuckled as he collapsed the handle to your suitcase and lifted it onto his bed before unzipping it.  You dropped your backpack as well. You stopped him before he could start digging through your stuff to help you unpack. 

“What,” he laughed.  “Afraid I might see your Hello Kitty panties?” You opened your mouth in a fake offense as you were quick you bring your ankle up, yank off your sock and throw it at him. “Hey! It’s too early for nasty sock wars!” He soon was sitting out in the hallway, waiting for your all clear to come in and actually help unpack.  He laughed as he heard you murmuring inside about how your Hello Kitty panties happened to be very cute. 

Jungkook had previously cleared out two of his dresser drawers for your unmentionables and PJs for your visit.  Also separating his closest down the middle.  Left side for him and right for you, a hanging cubby for shoes in the center for the divider. When you called for him, he went and helped you unpack your clothes, some in which he commented that he hadn’t seen before.  

You embarrassingly admitting to shopping for new clothes just before coming here to show off.  You wanted to look nice since you’d be with him for so long.  He just cooed as he kissed the top of your head.  

Makeup, shampoo, conditions, skin and hair treatments, slippers, medicine, toothbrush, hairbrush- all sorts of your things soon filled his apartment along with his.  Seeing it all, it felt so much more like home.  

It was 10 when everything was said and done and Jungkook was sat on the couch in the living room. The morning sun bright as it came through the balcony window.  You were in the kitchen, or leaving it now, with a water bottle.  The cold bottle chilling your hand as Jungkook called you. 

“Y/n,” he whined as he sat slouched.  You trotted over to him as he reached for you like a child.  “Come here,” he told you.  

“Wait a minute,” you told him with a smile as he just shook his head. He sat up quickly, grabbing around your waist and leaning back, taking you back and down with him.  Falling beside him on the couch as he pulling your legs over his lap.  Interlocking his fingers around your stomach, he leaned on your shoulder, the crown of his wavy brown hair pushing into your cheek. 

“I’ve waited long enough,” he lowly whispered.  Keeping his head tucked into your neck, he closed his eyes.  Finally able to sit and bask in the scent, warmth, and presence that is you, he was blissful.  He had missed you so much and he hated the fact that you lived so far off.  If Jungkook didn’t have such a good job here, he probably would've moved to you.  Though, you told him numerous times to stay here- stay where he knows best.  

He relaxed so completely as you traced along the tattoos crawling up his neck and disappearing down his back under his shirt. You giggled as he nuzzled into your further, moving to wrap his arms around your tighter and bring you closer.  

“You’re warm,” he murmured.  

“You are too,” you told him back, brushing your fingers into his hair and rubbing his neck.  You both sat like this for hours.  Talking about small things, sitting in silence and basking in each other until you had drifted off into a nap as Jungkook sat you against his chest to snooze.  

Occupying himself with his phone (and sneaking a few pictures of you too), he was soon being paged by Jimin at the tattoo parlor he worked at.  Sending a reminder that even if you were coming into town, he still had to work.  He had 3 tattoo appointments lined up for the afternoon, not mention what walk-in jobs they may have. 

He told him he’d be in, but that there was a 100% chance he was going to bring you along with him.  Jimin didn’t argue, waiting eagerly to meet the Jeon Jungkook’s girlfriend.  The squeaky clean sweetheart. 

He woke you up 10 past noon as you groaned and shook your head, trying to will away the bully who is trying to wake you up.  He just chuckled as he blew in your ear, making your shiver and cover it up before he was pinching your nose. 

He laughed when you opened your eyes and swatted his hand away, scowling at him and not the least bit threatening to look at.  The receiving end of what you called a glare was just utter cuteness in the eyes of your boyfriend. 

“Time to wake up, I have to go to the parlor today and you’re-” he poked your cheek- “coming with me.” 

“Okay?  Why am I coming to work with you?” 

Jungkook hummed as he pats your thigh as you moved to get off him, stretching.  “Well, two reasons.  One, I missed you.” He extended one finger before extending a second. “Two, my friend works there and he and the rest of my friends all believe you don’t exist.” 

“Excuse me?” You bit back a smile, cheeks between your molars.

“They think I made up some fake girlfriend story because I was single for so long.”  You busted out in laughter, holding your stomach as he just rolled his eyes and got up off the couch.  

“That’s ridiculous!” You cheered as you got up too, trailing after him to the door as you both slipped on your shoes.  Jungkook weaving your fingers together before leaving and keeping them together until he walked into the parlor, the bell signaling his arrival.  

The look in Jimin’s face when he saw that Jungkook really did have a girl hanging off his arm was priceless.  It wasn’t too much later he called all the guys over and you were introduced to them one by one as Jungkook’s girlfriend, Y/n. 

[grody-cosplay-n-crap]

To wake is to die

A sequel to this  but it can be read separately. It is angst because I hate myself, just a warning 

on ao3

_____________________________________________________________

Richie Tozier basically had the perfect life. Okay, maybe some people might disagree but they were idiots. So a bunch of dude bros had redacted their idolization of him recently, they couldn’t have known how hollow the life of the Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier they though they knew and loved had really been.

Without actually opening his eyes he pats the side of the bed next to him clumsily. It’s empty but the sheets are still warm and he smiles into what he is pretty sure is his own drool spot. The need to find the source of the warmth finally forces his body out of bed, grabbing his glasses and all but stumbling into the living room and open kitchen area. Ah, there he was. In a pair of (probably moisture-wicking and antibacterial) boxers and an over sized shirt that had been given out for free at one of his fun runs (an oxymoron, there was nothing fun about running). He was making one of his super healthy smoothies that almost tasted good until he added yeast or seaweed or some shit and….was he humming a little? Holy shit that was cute. Richie quietly watched with appreciation for a few more moments before stepping forward and grabbing two big handfuls of ass.

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie screeched, dropping some kind of leafy green on the ground.

“I would say sorry to disappoint but I’m pretty sure you’d rather see me than Jesus any day.” Eddie turned around, scowling.

“You’re lucky we have  guest room or your ego and I wouldn’t both be able to live here.”

��Love it when you roast me babe.” Eddie’s mouth did that super cute thing where his lips got even thinner, pressing together with displeasure. He brandished a knife between them.

“ I could have cut off my fucking fingers off then gotten gangrene and died. Then only two people would have watched your Netflix premier instead of three.”

“Ouch, Eds gets another good one.” Richie says backing him closer to the counter in the cage he had made with his arms.

“No. Nope. I am not doing this fucking insult based foreplay first thing in the morning.” Eddie says slipping his way out like the tiny ninja he is. Richie watched appreciatively as he starts digging through the fridge.

“Are you sure the interview will be all wrapped up by 7?”

“You do know it’s not the 90’s anymore and we can watch things whenever we want,” A glare “But yeah for sure.” He tilts his head as Eddie bends all the way down to the vegetable crisper.

“Good. I’ll tell everyone to get here by then.”

“Everyone?” Richie raised an eyebrow. “Does Bill count as “everyone”?”

“No,” he replies sarcastically “Everyone is Bill, Bev and Ben.”

“Bev and-” Rich was actually slightly speechless “They flew out just for my….stupid Netflix special??”

“Well they have money to burn” Eddie says frowning at some kind of scary green juice “And it’s not stupid!” He turns looking at Richie seriously “It’s your first special for Netflix, and the first time you’ve had a set you wrote all by yourself since you were probably 25. Everyone needs to watch it and find out if you completely shit the bed or not.”

“You were at the filming-”

“Unimportant.” Eddie interrupts, finally choosing some bright orange juice to put in the smoothie. God damn it Richie was going to marry the shit out of him one day.

—————————————————————————————————

Richie was practically vibrating with excitement on the way back from the interview, like some damn kid going to a sleepover. Walking in there was a chorus of his name being yelled with various levels of volume and enthusiasm.

“You bastards start pre-gaming without me?” He laughed as Bev threw her arms around him.

“We have to be a little drunk yo deal with you Trashmouth!” More hugs were given around before they settled around his (definitely not too big) television.

“How did the interview go?” Ben asked kindly.

“Great, like they all do-”

“Were there a lot of…” Bill cut in “Uh…”

“Gay questions?” Richie laughed.

“Did you officially come out?” Bev asked, perking up.

“I mean the special is called “Gay Clown”-”

“You said that was just a joke title-!!”

“So I think some people might have figured it out.” “Your social media is also super gay.” Bev said matter-of-factly.

“It is.” Ben says, staring ahead of him blankly. “Hey Eddie?”

“Hm?” the man replied, still staring at the computer where he was trying to Skype Mike in.

“Your running shorts are too small.” Eddie’s head whipped around as he started sputtering indignant curses, everyone else roaring with laughter.

“Don’t listen babe,” Richie says once he can speak again. “Your shorts are perfect.”

“Fuck you.”

——————————————————————————————————-

When they finally reach Mike at whatever paradise he was currently in they que up the special.

“This better be good Rich, I could be on the beach right now.”

“No promises.”

It is in fact very enjoyable for all of them. Bill, Bev and Ben all crying with laughter at one point. He thought even Mike’s eyes looked at little damp. Richie gets to enjoy the warm satisfied feeling of making people laugh again, from his own jokes. Even better when it was people you knew and cared about. But what really made his heart flutter so hard he though he might need medication was Eddie. He would glance at the others when a punchline was coming up, smiling with what looked like pride when everyone would double over laughing. Richie was so fucking in love it hurt.

——————————————————————————————————-

After everyone had tipsily left in their ubers Eddie had come up and held him from behind uncharacteristically tenderly.

“I really am proud of you Rich.” He spoke into his back.

“Whoa,” Richie said, feeling a heat spreading out from his chest. “I don’t know how to handle this sweet Eddie.” He turned, reaching up to gently grasp the shorter man’s waist.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Richie did, but only because his mouth was very busy pressing to Eddie’s. After a moment and a hum the angle changed and Eddie’s ( unfairly ripped) arms came up around his neck and he could help but think he’d let him put him in a choke hold any day.

‘Get it together Tozier.” He chastised himself as he pressed their bodies tighter together.

“So is all your material going to be about being gay now?” Eddie pulled back and smirked.

“I had a public mental breakdown, went back to my hometown and came back gay with a hot ass twunk boyfriend.” Eddie mouthed 'twunk?’ “That’s a fucking great story, everyone should hear it at least twice.”

“Too bad you can’t tell them the best parts of the story.” His boyfriend said sarcastically.

“I went from Richie Tozier bro womanizer to Richie Tozier gay stud homewrecker in less than a week, that’s way fucking better than the fucking clown.”

“Again with the ego.”

“Hey you’re the one who got seduced away from your wife-”

“Beep beep.” Eddie interrupted, grabbing his face and bringing their lips back together. Richie nearly groaned out loud, casually sliding one of his legs between Eddie’s.

“Rich,” he breathed “I’m not sure-”

“Hey, we’re both not 21 anymore, I don’t think I can get a successful boner this buzzed either.” Richie smirked, that swimming feeling behind his eyes becoming more noticeable.

“You’re gross.” Eddie frowned, then more quietly, almost shyly “But you know we both have tomorrow completely open…”

“Well lets go the fuck to sleep right now then.” Richie said, trying to burn the soft blush over Eddie’s cheekbones into into his memory. He power walked towards the bedroom practically ripping his clothes off. Eddie leaned on the door frame watching softly.

“Rich,” he looked over, almost breathless at the sight “I love you.”

Oh fuck, he was so fucking gone. This was too much. “Eds” he said trying to keep his voice from breaking “I love-”

Richie woke up.

It was violent, his whole body jerking. He panicked staring into the blackness, not understanding for a moment why he couldn’t see. His arm shot out feeling the half of the bed next to him. It was cold.

'No.’ he thought 'No, that’s not fucking fair.’

He practically falls out of bed, dry heaving several times on the floor. A grief so strong it felt like he had been stabbed ripped through him. It took several minutes for his lungs to remember to work again, broken sobs ripping out of his body instead of breaths. He sounded inhuman, like a dying animal. He felt as if all warmth in the world had been snuffed out, he couldn’t remember what what warmth had even felt like.

It wasn’t. Fucking. Fair.

For a few agonizing heartbeats he waited to see if the memories would be ripped out of his mind again, when they stayed he grabbed wildly for his phone, stumbling out onto his balcony. The city was awake as always, he could hear a siren in the distance. His hands were shaking so hard he nearly dropped the phone repeatedly trying to scroll through his contacts. His vision was more blurred than usual from the endless tears. He finally spotted a name. Bev. Clumsily he slammed the call button. No one picked up. He called again. And again.

Finally a groggy “Hello?”

“Bev.” he croaked, knowing he must sound like a mad man.

“Hello? Who is-?”

“Richie.”

“Oh, well how can I help you Richie?”

He clenched his jaw so hard he thought his teeth would break. She had the fake voice of someone disgruntled by being woken by a stranger, but who was forcing themselves to stay polite. He felt sick.

“Did you see it? You said you saw all of us, so did you know??”

“Excuse me?”

“Did you know he was going to die in….in that fucking place!! Did you see- why didn’t you try to stop it?!” His voice was rising, becoming a yell. Some part of him knew that if she could Bev would have done anything to change their fates. But it was a small part of him, a dying part.

“I’m sorry-I don’t-” Richie could hear a male voice in the background now, low and concerned.

“Is that Ben?” He demanded, hearing a soft gasp “Tell him- you fucking tell him he should have fucking left me down there! He should have left me with him!!” His voice was still rising, becoming hysterical.

“Richie-” A little recognition now, a little panic.

“They fucking pulled me out, for what? To save my life??” He laughed bitterly. The tears wouldn’t stop, and he could feel his head begin to pound. “Easy for him-for you, both of you. It’s easy to keep going together isn’t it? You got your happy ending.” he spat. They didn’t deserve that. They were his friends, he loved them. It didn’t matter.

“I loved him-” he choked out “I loved him and you should have let me stay-” he broke off wheezing out sobs. There was a pause , then

“Eddie….”

“Y-yeah. Eddie. You fucking remember now?” Ben’s voice was louder now, more frantic.

“Was there and order Bev? Did you know he was next? After Stan?” Stan. His heart throbbed again and he felt like doubling over. “Did you know it would be me after that?” He continued very quietly.

“Richie-” it was Ben and Bev now, she had switched it to speaker phone. “Calm down honey, please-”

“We figured we killed it and saved ourselves, huh? Only lost two out of seven, that’s a pretty good percent. But-” He swallowed heavily, heaving out a shaky breath. “that fucking clown is going to get one more of us before it’s all over. Sorry to mess up the statistics.”

“Richie please stop- just listen, it’s going to be okay. I don’t know what happened but-I’ll call Bill-I think he can-just stay there okay Rich-” Bev’s voice rapidly faded as his phone slipped out of his hand and fell to the sidewalk stories below. He watched as it hit the ground and shattered.

________________________________________________________________

I’m a morbid fuck and I hate happiness but I really can’t see Richie’s storyline turning out fine, he really is the most tragic character in my opinion. Ending is purposefully vague don’t kill me. 

[ohnomybreadsticks]

So the world has been unfairly dunking on my lovely friend @sinclairsolutions lately so here I am, working to balance those scales with some good old fashioned fluff!!! You deserve it, and this was a delight to write <3 Hope the rest of your week is full of nice things C:

~1.4K, Rated T, modern werewolf/vampire AU Reed900

The alley was already gloomy despite night having barely begun, the sun’s last rays tired and weak against the rapidly darkening sky. A chill swept through the air on the heels of the wind, rustling through abandoned fliers and fallen leaves alike. There was no particular noise to be heard, aside from the sounds of a city going about its business far in the distance. But there, just in the darkest corner, where the two buildings almost leaned in to touch, something was moving. A rustling, shuffling presence that was growing louder with every second. The light caught on a pair of eyes that glowed in a way that was just the wrong side of right, of human, and then…

“Fuck!” Gavin Reed cursed as he tripped over a cardboard box, the bags in his arms jostling awkwardly as he regained his balance. A stupid mistake really. It wasn’t like he couldn’t see in the pitch dark, it was more that he was stuck in his own head. So excited to get home and unpack the things he had purchased that he wasn’t even looking at where he was walking. Sighing, he shook his head and quickened his pace. He needed to get home before the moon rose - it was going to be a full one, and soon the streets would be bathed in clear white light.

Soon enough, Gavin’s apartment building came into view, and he excitedly bounded up the stairs to the third floor. Maybe his feet didn’t quite touch every single step, but he was in a hurry and there was no one around to notice, after all. Bursting through the door of the apartment, he called out excitedly “Ni! I’m home!” Laughter echoed behind him, and strong arms suddenly circled Gavin’s waist as a tall figure ambushed him. “I could smell you coming from a mile away, darling.” Niles rumbled, nosing at his hair and inhaling deeply. He was always snuffling away, and it was equal parts goofy and adorable.

Gavin laughed and squirmed out of his boyfriend’s grip, turning and skipping over to the table where he deposited his spoils. “C’mon Ni, I gotta show you all the cool stuff I got. We don’t have much time, remember?” Niles simply shook his head and smiled, replying “How could I forget?” He was used to Gavin being a little overexcitable, it was part of his charm. Besides, there were some things in those bags that smelled amazing. Gavin pulled boxes of carryout out of the bag and stacked them - a feast for at least three people collected from several of Niles’ favorite restaurants. 

Niles stepped forward and pressed a kiss to Gavin’s cheek, saying “Babe, this looks amazing. Thank you for going out of your way for me.” He was touched, as always, by the effort Gavin will put into something he can’t even enjoy. Gavin simply grinned and dug into the second bag, insisting “Oh you just wait. This is nothing.” Niles raised an eyebrow, unsure of what to expect. The smells from that bag had been largely overridden by the takeout food, and the shape of the bag was similarly unhelpful. His eyes followed the movement of Gavin’s hand as it slowly reappeared, holding a frankly ridiculously large bone.

Niles couldn’t help it, the automatic response kicked in and his mouth fell open, tongue lolling out in a frankly disgusting and embarrassing display of excitement. Flushing pink, he restrained himself - clamping his jaw shut and hand wiping anxiously at his mouth to scrub away the drool. But Gavin - gorgeous, perfect, sharp Gavin - he simply beamed up at his boyfriend and stood on tiptoes to press a kiss to the corner of his lips. “Awwwww baby, you don’t gotta be embarrassed. I got all these for you!” He insisted, beginning to pull a variety of treats and toys out of the bag. “Well, maybe I got this one a little bit for me too.” He admitted, pulling out the final object from the bag. There, heavy and impressive in his hands, lay a black leather collar, plush fabric padding the inside and a gold name tag dangling off the front.

“I mean, I know you already have a bunch to pick from but I just, uh, got a new one engraved. But if you don’t like the style I can take it back, no worries.” Gavin said, seeming to catch Niles’ nervousness suddenly. This time it was Niles’ turn to smile and look down adoringly at his boyfriend, as he took the collar into his hands and turned it over appraisingly. It felt like it would be amazing on his neck later. “I love it. You’ll have to help me put it on, okay?” He said, jingling the name tag with one finger and feeling the calm already spreading through his system. Gavin nodded enthusiastically, the light returning to his eyes almost immediately.

After that, they sank into the familiar preparations they took every month - Niles stripping down and Gavin gathering all of their favorite blankets and pillows on the big old couch. Niles rested his head on Gavin’s lap as the first rays of moonlight bled into the room, eyes closed as the familiar rush hit. Gavin’s hands soothed over Niles’ shoulders and back as he struggled and whined, the pain of the transformation inescapable even with all their preparations. Limbs lengthened, fingers withdrew into paws, and coarse white and black hair sprouted as Niles panted and clung to his boyfriend as best he could.

When it was all over, and the only sound left in the room was Niles’ huffed breaths, Gavin looked down at the giant wolf laying on his lap and smiled. The moonlight glinted off his fangs as he scratched behind Niles’ ear and watched that first hesitant wag of his boyfriend’s tail. “There you go. All done babe, you did so good.” He said, scratching a few more times before he pulled out the collar, “Ready for this?” Niles’ head perked up, his ears hesitantly rising into their excited triangle shapes, and Gavin had to bite back a laugh. God, he was so cute when he was like this. Sharp blue eyes and husky coloration on a big old wolf body was just the perfect combination, in his opinion.

Clasping the collar around Niles’ neck, Gavin thought about the conversation they had had about collars the first time they did this together. He had always assumed werewolves found collars borderline offensive, but Niles had admitted with pink-stained cheeks that the weight reminded him he wasn’t wild, wasn’t an animal. That he had someone looking after him, who wouldn’t let him get hurt or hurt others. So every full moon after that it had been Gavin’s job to pick out a collar from the collection and make sure it was snug but not too tight on his boyfriend’s neck.

“There you go. You look so handsome, darling.” Gavin cooed, cupping Niles’ face in his hands and lifting it so he could press a smooch to his snout. Niles snuffed and his tongue peeked out from between his teeth, tail thumping happily on the sofa. Good, he was starting to calm down already. The transformation was painful, and sometimes it took Niles a little while longer to come back to his senses. The months where that wasn’t the case were Gavin’s favorites. Collar on, he could attend to other things, like food and turning on the TV for their movie marathon. Niles dug into the takeout Gavin put in his bowl, and the vampire got his own little warm blood pouch to sip on. 

Sighing happily, Gavin settled into the blankets and took a long draw off his pouch. One hand idly scratched at the top of Niles’ head as the first movie started up. This is the good life, huh Reed, he thought to himself. Eventually, he would have a lap full of wolf, and sloppy kisses all over his face, and then Niles would settle down to enjoy his bone for the rest of the evening. And in the morning, Gavin could drift off to sleep safe in the knowledge that his boyfriend would get up and make sure all the blinds were closed so he wouldn’t get sunburned. They looked out for each other, he and Ni. Probably because they were in love, but, you know. Sometimes things just worked out perfectly for a vampire and a werewolf like them.

[hopefromadoomedtimeline]

While Gero’s going to take me a bit to get up and going (unsurprisingly) I did manage to come up with some backstory for the old man, since I doubt we’re going to get anything on him for a while.

Alright so essentially I was thinking that Gero’s reason for hating Goku so intensely is ultimately petty, it’d be a bit more interesting if he had another reason that would motivate him to keep that grudge beyond the fact he ran out of money because that clearly didn’t hinder him to the point he couldn’t make various androids and machines. 

So the thought was as to how Gero came into the Red Ribbon Army and his motivation as to doing so. 

Back when the good doctor wasn’t making ridiculously strong and powerful creations and had a shred of decency, he had a family.  Gero was never one who held a high opinion of the human race, deeming them to be fools, idiots and beyond irritating to deal with, but against the odds, he found himself two of the only people on the planet his cold heart would be soft for.  A wife and son.

Unfortunately, it was not meant to last, she was suddenly killed due to a hit and run by a drunk driver, effectively causing Gero’s contempt to change into legitimate anger and served to further isolate himself from the scientific community he had been apart of. Their son was only ten.

In the upcoming years, Gero’s relationship with his son would falter, ultimately becoming distant as he grew more and more bitter as time went on. He would have continued to stew in a pool of his own negative emotions until he was approached by a certain leader of a certain army. 

Commander Red had approached Gero after hearing about his mechanical skills, and offered a large sum of money for him to provide the Army with machines that served as muscle to go along with his growing army of human soldiers.

At first, he would turn the offer down, having no motivation to help someone he deemed pathetic with any short sighted goal he had in mind. It was only upon hearing what they wished to obtain that caused him to reconsider: The Dragon Balls. Magical wish granting orbs that could fulfill your desires. Seeing this as an opportunity to bring back what he lost, he agreed and would soon be recognized as one of the founding members.

Gero had soon formulated  his own plan, but before he could begin to enact it, he would reach out to his estranged son. He would explain the plan to manipulate Red while working behind the scenes, and how he needed someone he could rely on in the field to ensure that they would have their hands on the orbs and have their wish granted. His son was against the idea, having both a distaste for the violent approach the Red Ribbon Army was taking and for the damage they caused. But the possibility to have his mother back after she was unfairly robbed from the world was too much for him to turn down. 

Ultimately, he agreed under the condition Flappe join as well, the other scientist had been a frequent scientific college to Gero, having interacted with the man multiple times before his mother’s death and believed the other man’s influence would have a potentially positive effect. Unfortunately, no such thing would come close to happening, their relationship only fracturing on a professional and personal level as a result.

With Gero’s influence, his son was quickly driven up through the ranks and given his own platoon of soldiers to command. Among the ranks, it was noteworthy that this particular deployment took a much less violent path, using strategies and tactics to take their enemy by surprise and convince them to surrender, having significantly less causality rates than the rest of the army.

Things would begin to spiral out of control once Goku and co. came into the picture, effectively halting the Army’s plans time after time, causing much frustration on Gero’s end. Things only got worse once Red’s own ridiculously mundane wish was revealed to Staff Officer Black, who killed the former and took a much more direct approach to managing his newly acquired army, restricting the scientist’s hold on what actions were taken.

Ultimately, Goku would take down a majority of the Army, ridding much of the world of its influence for years to come. As the army began to crumble, Gero would learn that his son had been felled by an enemy bullet during an attempt to find the Dragon Balls soon after they had been used, figuring it was best to collect them ahead of time instead of waiting for a year. To top it off, the doctor would soon learn that the dragon balls could only revive someone within a year of their death. 

He never learned who fired the bullet, but he had a person to aim his grief and anger toward. The person who had robbed him of his job, the chance to revive his wife, and his son.

As he retreated to one of his labs, he would only have one name in mind, one person he would dedicate years of his life towards in order to destroy him for what he had done. 

The person he deemed responsible for all his hardships, the one he dreamed of having the life snuffed out of. The one who would die by the hands of one of his own creations.

Son Goku.

Gero was certain the rest of humanity would follow soon after.

[tcadamssisterletters]

I stared at the picture his leg sprawled out in front of him, his backpack and long board  tossed aside, an emergency vehicle with flashing lights careened towards him in the night. The picture text included no explanation, but told a horror I wasn’t prepared for this Christmas season. My hands shook, knowing I couldn’t get to my son. He was at his friend, Caleb’s beach house for a few days.

“Christian,” I texted frantically. “What’s happened?” I wanted to scream into the phone. He didn’t respond. I prayed, while dialing his number several times to no avail.

His younger brother, Colin leaned over my shoulder. “What’s wrong Momma?”

“Pray for Christian. Something’s happened.” I showed him the picture. “He’s not answering his phone.”

Finally, the phone rang.

  There was a little goat on the farm named Prince William. Prince William didn’t have the typical goat life in the beginning. His mother developed mastitis and was unable to nurse him. He lived in a stall in the barn and was bottle-fed on schedule, usually by a young girl named Emma, who lives with her parents in the barn apartment. You couldn’t help but love this little guy. He bleated as you passed his stall, begging for attention. Emma rode her scooter up and down the barn, and Prince William scampered behind as if she were his mother.

Before long, it was time for Prince William to be castrated so he could join a herd. In the pen, he was the black goat in a pack of white, the smallest of the bunch and one of his ears pointed down while the other pointed heavenward. Life with the herd wasn’t easy for Prince William. The other goats didn’t accept him, he was always in a corner by himself. His food was placed in a separate container, so he would not be ousted at mealtime. Whenever I drove up on the ATV, he ran alongside the fence and bleated as if to say, “My peeps! There you are! Get me out of here!” I think he thought he was human to some extent. We’d discussed moving Prince William to our yard. He’d become a pet and not be so lonely, but after going back and forth we decided he was safer with the herd, until we moved there full time.

One night we’d left our bedroom doors open to allow the cool wind to blow through during the night. Around midnight, I jumped up hearing a loud noise.

I shook Jay. “Do you hear that?” I said.

He scrunched his face. “What is it?”

I ran out onto the porch. Howling and yapping to the left of our farmhouse, then in the front, and answered by howling to the right.

Jay squeezed my shoulders. “Coyotes,” he said.

“We’re surrounded. There’s so many!” I’d never heard anything like it.

“Sounds like several packs are passing through,” he said. “Unfortunately, we offer a buffet. They eat chickens.”

“What about the goats?” I said, turning to him. “Prince William?”

By his expression, I knew goats were what’s for dinner. “We’ll know in the morning.”

I didn’t sleep well that night, worrying over the little black outcast.

Surprisingly, Prince William survived that night, but soon after he received a slash on his hip by what the farmers believed was a bob cat or a Florida panther. He was treated and as it healed coyote tracks were found by the goat pen. This time Prince William wasn’t as fortunate.

He was eaten.

The herd is to blame. While they huddled in a tight circle of protection, Prince William was sacrificed. It’s a part of farm life, I will never become callous to. The pangs you feel when a beloved creature is killed, slaughtered, sold, or traded. Jay often shrugs “It’s farm life.” Sometimes, I wonder if I’m cut out for it.

I’ve thought about Prince William. The poor guy was doomed from the beginning. I knew his story was to teach me something. I didn’t know what until a few nights after, when I clutched my cell phone. Finally, Christian’s face popped up on the screen.

  My “hello” sounded frantic.

“Momma!” he said, the sound of traffic in the background. “There’s a dead guy.”

“What dead guy? What happened?”

“This guy was riding his bike around the bridge. We saw him as we long boarded to the beach. Four hours later, his bike was on the side of the road. He was face down in the water on the rocks.”

“What happened to him?”

“He’s dead Momma. He was just alive. I just…” His voice wavered. “I just can’t believe it! When Caleb ran to get help, I called 911. I nudged him and talked to him, but I knew he was already gone.”

“You couldn’t resuscitate him?” I said.

“No, he was already gray and stiff. I sat in the dark with his body. I don’t know why I was talking to him. I didn’t know what else to do. I was scared to touch him too much maybe I’d be blamed for his death or something. The investigator said it was good I didn’t move him.” He paused for a moment. “It was suicide Momma. The guy killed himself.”

I didn’t realize I was holding my breath as I exhaled. My son was okay. It was someone else’s son. Some poor mother would receive a call, days after Christmas. She would hear the gruesome facts. The cans found around his body. How he removed his wallet from his pocket and laid it neatly on a boulder. He wanted someone to know who he was…who he once was.

Your son was snuffing they’ll tell her, he snuffed his life out…snuffed his soul free. He snuffed because he couldn’t stand on his own two feet any longer. He fell face down in the rocks. Crushed his skull. His nose was smashed to bits….No longer looked human.

  At home, the next night Christian couldn’t sleep. The picture of that thirty year old’s face and bloated body wasn’t easy to forget. His mind swung back and forth between seeing him alive and then dead. Knowing he and Caleb were probably the last to see him riding his bike in circles on that bridge as he contemplated his end. I explained to Christian, God allowed him to be this man’s witness.

“Maybe you were to see what snuffing does, so you could help someone. Keep someone else from making the same mistake.”

He nodded sadly. “What would make him do that Momma?” He’d ask later.

Sometimes there are no answers… just questions.  I myself couldn’t help but wonder if this man like Prince William was rejected by his herd, and if he fought the coyotes and panthers of this life alone. I pondered why he was outside a circle of protection. Was there no one to turn to?

This was not the way I’d planned to start my New Year, but the experience pushed me into a resolution. My resolution for 2017 is to try harder to extend grace to those who are angry, rude, treat me unfairly, or see things from a different point of view,  to care for those who are sick, to befriend the lonely, and to open the door for the elderly. Jesus called this loving your neighbor. We are commanded to love without expectation of anything in return, for we never know what’s going on in someone else’s pen. Maybe, this man’s life will not be lost in vain after all.

  Isaiah 41:10: “Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” AKJV

            A Goat, A Stranger,and A Resolution I stared at the picture his leg sprawled out in front of him, his backpack and long board  tossed aside, an emergency vehicle with flashing lights careened towards him in the night.