#You know that fight was insanely blood. You know those two ended up throwing their lightsabers down

[backpackingspace]

okay but my reaction to qui gon yelling at tiny 12 year old for being too aggressive as always been qui gon pleaseeee that is a child!! However given obi wans instinctual response to fight like it's a street brawl and the jedis fighting style being more dance like. I can fully see obi wan winning that tournament by just leeping onto the other kid and punching him in the face a punch. Strong possibility that biting happened too.

[little-diable]

"Angel" He calls me – Priest!Tom Riddle (smut)

Listen, this is fucked up – even I was unsure where this came from. But I ain't sorry for it, I know y'all will love this, you filthy heathen (i love you). Shamelessly inspired by the song "The Fruits" by Paris Paloma. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Her mother accuses the reader of preparing a satanic ritual, so she hopes that Priest Riddle can free the young girl from the devil's grasp. What a shame that the young priest is even more cunning than the Devil himself.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, smut in a church, heavy dub!con, choking, wax play, blood play, Tom being Tom, religious connotations

Pairing: Priest!Tom Riddle x fem!reader (about 2k words)

My love, are you the devil? I would worship you instead of him, I have no time for confession, for I'm too busy committing sins

“Priest Riddle!” Her mother’s shrill voice echoed through the empty church, repeated with every further step she took. (Y/n) struggled against her mother’s grasp, feet dragged along the cold ground as if she prayed that the floor would open up, that something or someone would crawl from the eternal darkness to hold onto her, rescue her from the hell she would experience any moment now. “Priest Riddle!”

The tall man appeared after another loud call of his name, concern tugged on his features, a facade her mother instantly seemed to buy into; a facade (y/n) instantly saw through. Priest Riddle was a devilish handsome man, a man so handsome he easily fooled those who clung to him, distracting them from his sinful character. 

“Mathilda, (y/n), what is going on?” His bright eyes carried concern as he looked at (y/n)’s mother, concern that changed into something dark the second his gaze found (y/n)’s. Her mother’s torture was nothing against what he’d do to her, that much she was certain of after all those confessions she had been forced through – confessions that had ended with her knees having a carpet burn, with her ass bruised, and her jaw pulsing in pain from being stretched open. 

“She’s gone insane, I’ve found her worshipping the devil! He has his dark grasp on her, oh you have to free my girl, you’re my only chance of finding help for her sinning soul, Father!” Tears dripped from her mother’s eyes, tears (y/n) silently cursed. She had done no such thing, all she had done was read a book Priest Riddle had borrowed her, one of the few interests both shared – Latin prayers her mother had mistaken for satanic rituals as (y/n) had tried to pronounce the words. 

For a second, he studied (y/n), the annoyance she couldn’t shake, the wide pupils he had grown all too used to, feeling his cock twitch in his trousers at the excitement now thumping through his veins. “Leave her with me, Mathilda. She’s in good hands. I’ll take care of our girl.”

"Angel“ he calls me, does he know that I'm falling from a precipice that I tripped off long ago?

“Rituals, huh?” Her mother had left the church seconds ago, leaving the two of them behind. (Y/n)’s skin prickled, she was fighting against the need to scream, to throw a tantrum against her mother’s foolish behaviour. All because of him. 

“This is your fault! She heard me read that prayer book of yours.” Within seconds he stood in front of her, ringed hand wrapped around her throat. Her heart was pounding, blood rushing through her veins, he could feel (y/n)’s fast pulse against his fingertips, a sensation that left the man smirking. 

“My fault?” The way he spoke the words, with a voice so raspy and deep, (y/n) didn’t manage to stop her body from reacting, her thighs from trembling and her walls from clenching around nothing. For a few moments, neither of them spoke, all they did was stare at one another. “My fault, really, (y/n)?”

“I,” her words got stuck in her throat as he squeezed, cutting off her strength to pronounce any words. Priest Riddle always enjoyed silencing her, showing her how much power he held over her. (Y/n) was shoved backwards as he let go of her, watching her fall onto the stone stairs leading up to the altar. 

“You see, (y/n), your mother may think I’m the saving grace, the voice of reason, but I think you know better, don’t you? There is no saving left for you, no grace I can give you. The Devil would have tried to save you, what a shame that I’m not him.” Angry tears welled up in her eyes, tears that began to drip as a laugh clawed through him. There was no escaping him, no matter how much her mind begged her to run, to never return to these unholy walls, her body craved his touch, desperate for everything he could offer. 

“Undress, lay down on the altar, for me.” It took (y/n) a second to snap into motion, to undo the buttons of her dress with shaky fingers. Not once did her glassy eyes leave his frame, not as she stood naked, not as she slowly heaved herself onto the altar, not as she watched him alight the red candle placed next to the Holy Bible.

“Do you remember what John teaches us, (y/n)? He tells us: Whoever makes a practice of sinning is of the devil, for the devil has been sinning from the beginning. But tonight you will sin, tonight you will offer yourself to the devil, even though he will never have you. He fears me, and he will fear my precious toy once I’m done with you.”

“In nomine Patris et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.” He was standing behind the altar, with his ringed fingers holding onto the burned candle. (Y/n) was forced to watch him tilt the candle, letting the wax drip down onto the valley between her naked breasts. She hissed at the sensation, torn between excitement and fear, and yet she craved more. 

“Princeps gloriosissime caelestis militiae, sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio adversus principes et potestates, adversus mundi rectores tenebrarum harum, contra spiritalia nequitiae, in caelestibus.” Priest Riddle’s voice didn’t carry any emotion as he spoke the lines of the prayer to Saint Michael, a prayer used in exorcisms, a prayer he used to mock her now. The candle kept dripping, one by one the drops of wax marked her body, leaving (y/n) moaning as his cold hand joined the wax, touching her hardening nipples with a smirk growing on his lips. 

“Veni in auxilium hominum, quos Deus ad imaginem similitudinis suae fecit, et a tyrannide diaboli emit pretio magno. Te custodem et patronum sancta veneratur Ecclesia; tibi tradidit Dominus animas redemptorum in superna felicitate locandas.” No longer did (y/n) try to keep her moans bottled in, she arched her back off the altar as he added more strength to his touch, tweaking her nipples as the wax dripped onto her stomach. It felt as if he was making an offering, sacrificing (y/n) for the sins they had committed together, giving her up for his eternal salvation. 

“Deprecare Deum pacis, ut conterat Satanam sub pedibus nostris, ne ultra valeat captivos tenere homines, et Ecclesiae nocere. Offer nostras preces in conspectu Altissimi, ut cito anticipent nos misericordiae Domini, et apprehendas draconem, serpentem antiquum, qui est diabolus et Satanas, et ligatum mittas in abyssum, ut non seducat amplius gentes. Amen.” The last drop of wax fell as Priest Riddle ended the prayer, tossing the blown-out candle aside to press his lips against (y/n)’s. Both moaned in unison as her fingers began to work on his belt, needing to free his cock with the silent hope that he’d fuck her on the altar spurring her on. 

He twitched in her grasp, a sensation so familiar, she found herself relaxing, giving her mind a few seconds to relax. Seconds he used to study her with danger laced in his gaze, danger that deepened as her eyes were drawn to his throat, watching him rip his silvery necklace from his neck. The necklace twinkled in the dim light, momentarily entrancing (y/n) as if she was studying a rare gem, an offering only God would make. 

“We have been bound together for months, you are my possession, and you will do as I say, you will let me lead you till I no longer think you’re worthy of my time.” He tightened his grasp on his necklace, and without another warning, he ran the sharp edge of the cross along his skin, instantly drawing blood. Blood so red, it looked like sacred wine, richer than Jesus’ blood, more powerful than any other offering.

He wiped his bleeding thumb along her lips, letting her taste the copper staining her skin like a tattoo made for eternity. They held eye contact as she parted her lips, letting her tongue lick his skin clean, unable to stop her moan from clawing out of her. She was nothing but a toy, someone he used to pass time with, someone to fuck whenever his body called for excitement – and she loved it, every fucked up second of their time together. 

Priest Riddle let go of her to position himself between her thighs, his fingertips dug into her skin as he wrapped her legs around his waist. Soon he’d fuck her, soon he’d remind her that she was his – his only. 

You're faithless, for you pitched me, against your holy father and it seems that I am winning

Without giving (y/n) any chance to prepare herself, he pushed into her, forcing his cock into her tightness. Her arousal allowed him to move without any struggles, moving as if their bodies had been made for one another. In some fucked up way she could have found something romantic in this, claimed in a church for all holy and unholy eyes to see, but the darkness he emanated was enough to keep her from thinking these thoughts. 

Months ago when this had happened for the first time, (y/n) had been frightened, not knowing what the man would do to her. But after the first of many orgasms had wrecked through her, she had felt like Judas, the backstabber, the liar she had been turned into. No longer held back by the fear of sinning, rather giving in – all for the promise of being punished by Priest Riddle. 

“Even the devil wouldn’t take you in, a soul filled with sins that even He would turn his back on. I’m your only rescue.” He panted his words as he buried himself deep inside of her, eyes staring down at her. Without stopping his movements, his hips from snapping against hers, he pushed the cross past her lips, forcing her to hold it between her teeth. (Y/n) could still taste his blood – heightening her senses as her walls fluttered around him. 

She hated herself for enjoying this, for being at his mercy with her legs spread and her back arched. He only spoke the truth, he was her only chance of guidance, the only one to cling to as the others had left her behind, engulfed in darkness. Her saving grace, the poison she was addicted to, the bruising grasp she couldn’t shake. 

“Cum for me, show them that there is no chance of rescuing you from me.” With the cross held between her teeth, she moaned for him. (Y/n)’s orgasm wrecked through her, leaving her shaking and panting beneath him. But the priest kept moving, searching his own high with his fingertips digging into her skin. 

A heavy moan rumbled through Priest Riddle as he came, imprinting himself on her walls without giving her a warning. Once again marked by the man who called her his own property, once again marked by the devil’s most brutal brother. 

“I need you on your knees, it’s time to beg for His forgiveness, (y/n).” 

……

Translation of the Latin prayer: 

St. Michael the Archangel, illustrious leader of the heavenly army, defend us in the battle against principalities and powers, against the rulers of the world of darkness and the spirit of wickedness in high places.

Come to the rescue of mankind, whom God has made in His own image and likeness, and purchased from Satan's tyranny at so great a price.

Holy Church venerates you as her patron and guardian. The Lord has entrusted to you the task of leading the souls of the redeemed to heavenly blessedness.

Entreat the Lord of peace to cast Satan down under our feet, so as to keep him from further holding man captive and doing harm to the Church.

Carry our prayers up to God's throne, that the mercy of the Lord may quickly come and lay hold of the beast, the serpent of old, Satan and his demons, casting him in chains into the abyss, so that he can no longer seduce the nations. Amen.

[hobie-enthusiast]

LOVE MY LOVE !

— hobie brown x gn!reader + specified reader hcs

— tons of fluff, hobie being ur bf hcs, mentions of injury and blood, petnames, hobie being so hopelessly in love, specific hcs at the end for transmasc, cultural, and dyed hair reader, plus one for bad parents

— some classic hcs for hobie being in a relationship with you

— i have a small section on hobie’s hair, so if any info about his wicks is wrong, pls feel free to correct me! also the last 4 hcs are “if you are/have” kind of scenarios but everything before that is for everyone!

— starting off strong he definitely writes songs about you. he keeps his whole punk scene with his band, but these songs are written to himself. he keeps them in a notebook, with random lyrics scribbled in and chords to match them. his songwriting process is messier than most, so sometimes you can barely understand the order of the music or how it sounds. but this works in his favour; because then he’ll play it for you, gauging for your reaction and maybe that embarrassment you may show when he pours out his feelings.

— i mentioned this one in two fics before but i will do it again; he’s so for matching stickers and pins. both of your interests are smacked on his clothes, guitar, and whatever you chose to sport them on. he doesn’t care if they clash with his “punk persona”, after all, being punk means not conforming to societal expectations. so yeah matching stuff is definitely a thing for him. he’ll also match bracelets and rings with you if you’re down for that

— he is such a petnames person. his faves to use on you are sweetheart, darling, love, when it comes to the standard ones (with those he varies between throwing in a “my” in front of it and not just depends). he also likes referring to you as his “partner in crime” and “his/my star” (since he insists he doesn’t like labels ofc). he would also really like if you use petnames on him, or even a nickname. if you ever call him using “hobie”, he knows you’re upset and will fix things. now, if you call him “hobart”.. he’s running.

— okay please please hear me out on this; he’s such a flower boy. loves getting and giving flowers. picking them while he’s out swinging just to bring them back to you is one of his main love languages. and he loves receiving them back. please give him flowers please. surprise him with them. put them in his hair. FLOWER CROWNS TOO FLOWER CROWNS! he just loves flowers, all kinds of flowers.

— his love language is physical touch and words of affirmation. he loves being in contact with you. hobie loves holding your hand, putting his hand on the small of your back, or patting your head. but his all time favourite? intertwining fingers. he loves the small and intimate feeling it provides, as well as comfort. hobie will praise you a ton. always congratulating you, telling you how amazing you are, that sort of thing

— hobie is very protective of the things he loves, including you. he would never take it lightly if say one of his enemies threatened him with you. he tries his best to keep you out of his spider-man work, but sometimes that just doesn’t happen. but trust, he will pull out all the stops to protect you. if you’re threatened, he’s with you 24/7, eyes always watching for the enemy who had the audacity to say they were going to hurt you

— he’s actually so smitten about you it’s insane. will never stop talking about you and how you make him feel. he loves it. loves seeing the way his friends roll their eyes whenever he says “s’ [Name] said-”. everyone who knows him knows he’s crazy about you. there was a time where he felt so alone in his life, but now that he has you, he remembers he isn’t alone. he remembers what he’s fighting for after your pep-talks to him whenever he feels down. you’re his pick-me-up, so ofc he’s gonna brag about you to his friends.

— hobie hates making you his “guy-in-the-chair.” ofc he’s hella grateful for you helping and supporting his cause, fighting for what’s right. but, one of the parts of that is fixing him up when he’s hurt. he hates seeing your face so worried when he swings into your window, blood pooling at his side as you grab a first aid kit. hobie never wants you to worry, he feels terribly bad about it. but he forever appreciates how you always help him, always welcome him home, always manage to make him feel better

— hobie brown said it himself; he is not a morning person. he gets up everyday like after 10, and so he likes to have you in bed when he wakes up. on the weekends, he’ll beg you to stay in bed and sleep more, holding your body close to him and coaxing you with soft neck kisses and raspy whispers (his morning voice btw its gotta be- oh my god). on the days he does manage to keep you to himself, he wakes up in a better mood with a small pep in his step a good amount of the day

— okay so his hair. he’s very very picky on who touches his hair. i wanna say that he would trust you to touch it, but it would take a while. the way hobie grew up and has ideals that makes it kinda hard to trust people. so it truly does take a while. but once he starts trusting you, he realizes how much he loves when you take care of his hair. he loves feeling your fingers mess with his wicks, combing at his scalp. i wrote a whole fic about this but he also loves when you decorate his hair, especially flowers (fic found here!). and once he truly trusts you, he’ll ask for your help when he washes his hair, since it could be time consuming.

— okay so politics and ideals; it’s very important to hobie you hold the same beliefs as him. i really can’t see him with someone who won’t fight and protest like he does tbh. because he needs that support. sometimes things like that just don’t go right, so he wants his partner there next to him to help him fight for what’s right and what they deserve. this is really important to him, hence why i just can’t see him with someone who won’t support him like that. so yea definitely gotta agree like that, and fight for the cause with him

— THIS ONES FOR ALL MY FELLOW TRANS BOYS ive been needing some of this. okay he takes no shit from anyone about your identity or his own. he’s very supportive of you and anything you need. no surgery and no t? he’ll help you bind and assures you you don’t have to conform to any trans agenda anyone sets for you. if you got surgery, he’s constantly helping you, making sure you take care of yourself afterwards. his favourite affirmations are “you’re so handsome.” and “you’re my pre’ty boy, y’know that?” god he’s so-

— now this one is for all my fellow cultural people. he would love to be taught all about your culture. make the food for him. show him the traditional clothing. tell him the history. he wants to know it all! hobie fights everyday for minorities who aren’t heard, and he always wants to know more about who he’s fighting for. he genuinely finds this stuff interesting, especially considering the different types of people he met during his youth. so please, immerse him in that side of you! he’s all ears!

— here’s one for my homies with bad parents (we matchin fr i see you). oh man hobie will not let your parents treat you like that, ever. if he sees them, it’s not good for them. he’s going to ensure you know that you never deserved that treatment from your own parents. he reminds you that you deserve love and affection, and he will be the one to give that to you. he’s very good at helping you through anything you need, with affirmations and his physical presence, he will always remind you that you are safe and that your parents truly are a joke

— this one for all my fellow dyed hair besties. hobie is so down to help you dye your hair 1000%. get the supplies and invite him over and he’s going go help you out. and trust, he knows what he’s doing. i feel like hobie definitely experimented with his own hair in the past, which includes having crazy colours. so he’s got your back, and will also recommend any colour he thinks is gonna look absolutely sick on you

[watchmegetobsessed]

MY HERO

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

PAIRING: nerdy!Harry x bartender!reader

WARNING: bit of a fight, blood

SUMMARY: Some drunk guy gets dirty with you when you refuse to serve him. Luckily, Harry is there to stand up for you, even if he is not too good at it.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

It’s a Friday night, which means the bar is packed with college students, celebrating that they survived yet another week of the semester. There’s no empty table, the line at the bar seems never ending and the noise is way louder than the music playing through the speakers. A lot of your coworkers hate to work Friday and Saturday, because they hate the crowd, but you’re kind of okay with it. It keeps you busy, time passes by faster and the tips are always good, drunk college guys like to pay double for their drinks just to prove they have money, only to wake up with an empty wallet in the morning. But that’s not your business.

You haven’t sat down in hours, the rush was too big to have one less person behind the bar, so you’re a tad bit frustrated, but still holding on. Most of the crowd looks familiar to you, you see them almost every week, you could maybe even tell their major as well. You know what they usually drink and how they act whenever they had one too many beers. But there’s one person you know the most about and when you see him walk in your mood brightens immediately.

Harry has been a returning customer for the past two months or so. You still remember the first time he came in and asked for a double shot, you watched him take it and almost throw it up. He admitted he’s never taken a double and can barely force down a beer usually. He sat at the bar that night and you talked and talked until it was closing time.

He returned the next night, asked for a water and stayed until closing again.

You’ve gotten to know him well since then, he is the sweetest, kindest soul and the most amazing guy you’ve ever met. He likes to hide behind his glasses and books, he tends to stammer when he gets nervous and his nose twitches when he tastes something he doesn’t like.

When you started bartending you promised yourself not to fall for any guy. Well, Harry is not just any guy.

As you finish up an order you keep an eye on Harry and watch him fight his way to the bar, fixing his glasses when he finally makes it through the crowd. You give the drinks out and turn to him smiling.

“Hi, fancy a drink?” you ask, ignoring the whiny people who’s been waiting in line and were cut off by Harry.

“Hi! Y-Yeah, thank you,” he smiles back and you’re quick to make him a virgin cocktail.

He stays by the bar and keeps you company whenever you have a moment to talk. You ask him about his exam a few days ago and he asks if you’ve gotten your AC fixed already.

“No, the guy I had check it out gave me an insane offer, so I’m still saving up.”

“How much?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed, but you know where he will end up, so you just smile at him and shake your head.

“Harry, I told you, I don’t want you to pay for it.”

“Hey! Get your sexy ass over here and serve us!” A voice calls out from across the bar and it makes the hair stand on your arms, but you force a smile on your face.

“I’ll be right back, Harry.” Walking across the bar you stand in front of the clearly drunk guy you’ve seen around here quite a few times before and he likes to give the bartenders a hard time whenever he is in the mood.

“What can I get you?” you ask looking at him while he is clearly looking at your chest.

“Three vodka shots and a beer. Make sure to bend down for that beer!” he laughs, the two other guy with him joining in, patting him on the back.

“I’ll shove up those shots into your dirty ass,” you mumble under your breath as you start pouring the drinks.

“If I double your tip will you get rid of that top?” he grins, still very much eyeing your breasts.

“Hey, if you don’t want spit in your drink, stop being an asshole!” You stop mumbling and this time you articulate it quite loud and clear.

“It’s a spicy one!” he whistles, still not taking you seriously. “I’ll take the second shot from your big mouth!” He holds one of the shots up and gulps it down.

“Alright, get the fuck out!” You grab the rest of the order and toss it into the sink, this finally gets his attention.

“Hey! You fucking bitch!”

“I said get out! The bar is closed for you!”

“I’m not going anywhere! You better give me free shots and a fucking blowjob to make up for the shit you did!”

“Hey, s-she said you have to leave!”

Harry is standing next to the guy, standing up for you, but you can tell he is terrified of the three guys.

“What? Is she your bitch or something?”

“Harry, don’t—“

“Don’t talk about her like that! She is—“

“This little nerd is in love with the hot bartender! You think you have a chance with her? She is just a cheap bitch who probably sucks off anyone for a fat tip.”

The moment is so surreal that you watch it frozen at first. Harry moves forward and pushes the guy, not too hard but since he’s drunk he stumbles backwards and it riles him up. The next thing you see is that he swings a fist at Harry and it meets with his nose. That’s what snaps you out of your frozen state.

It’s a shitshow from there, you climb over the bar to get between them and punch the drunk guy before he could get another hit in and this time he falls to the ground. His friends are about to pull him up and go against me, but another group of guys get involved and there’s six of them so they easily pull the troublemaker away from you, dragging them out of the bar.

Turning around you look at Harry who is holding his hand to his nose that’s bleeding and guilt starts eating you away right away, because he got hurt because of you.

“Hey, come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

You curl one of his arms around your shoulders and bring him to the back and away from the curious crowd. Reaching the changing room you sit him down to the bench and run off just for a moment to get a wet towel and an icepack for him.

“Look at me, let me see it.” You take his face in your hands gently and he hesitates before moving his hand away.

His glasses sit crooked on his nose that’s red and bloody, but as far as you can tell it’s not broken. Carefully, you take his classes off and start to pat his face gently to get the blood off.

He looks devastated and like a shadow of his usual self.

“Does it hurt?” you ask.

“Just a little,” he mumbles.

“I’m sorry, Harry.”

“You’re sorry? Y/N, I’m sorry!”

“For what?” you chuckle, tossing the towel to the floor and replacing it with the icepack. Harry winces and pushes it away. “For defending me? For standing up for me?”

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t protect you. I wasn’t…”

He doesn’t say it, but you know what he was meaning to say. He wasn’t manly enough.

“Harry,” you exhale, putting the icepack to the side before taking his hands back into your hands. “What you did was… the bravest and most heroic thing anyone has ever did for me. You stood up for me even though you’re the last person to ever get into a fight and look at you, you almost got your nose broken for me!”

“I think you actually broke his face though, so you were the real hero,” he chuckles softly and he is finally returning, the sunshine, the warmth, it’s all back.

“You’re the hero, Harry Styles. And heroes deserve… a reward.”

You smile at him coyly, moving a little closer so he knows what you’re planning to do, giving him a chance to move away, but when he doesn’t, just looks at you intently, you finally press your lips against his.

You’ve been aching to do it for so long, the sweet, handsome, nerdy guy completely stole your heart from across the bar and now you finally have him all to yourself. You’re not even surprised that he is an amazing kisser, his soft lips move so perfectly with yours, you wonder what else they can do.

The kiss gets a little more heated and your nose brushes against his, which makes him wince and pull back.

“Fuck, I’m sorry!” you cover your mouth with your hand, but he shakes his head.

“It’s okay. It’s just a little sore.”

“Maybe we should get it checked out in a hospital.”

“I’m fine, really.”

Cheering is heard from outside and you realize you should get back to work, the rush is still not over.

“Stay here for as long as you want. I’ll be off the clock in an hour. Maybe you could… walk me home?”

“Yes! Yes, I-I… yes, I would love to walk you home.”

You can’t help but chuckle at his enthusiasm and leaning in you kiss him, careful not to hurt him.

“Alright, my hero.” You take his glasses and put them back on, fixing them so they sit straight. One last time you kiss him shortly and go back to work, smiling crazily for the next hour.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[icycoldninja]

Hello!

I see your request box is open (if not, you can ignore this) so, can you make a story between Vergil and the reader where the reader is Vergil's lover and dies because of his mistakes. After many years, Vergil reunites with the reader who is now a demon made by Mundus (like Trish) and don't have any memory of their past self. whatever the ending is- I hope you to make it with a sad ending.

yeah- just that and thanks! have a nice day ;)

No, it's open, don't worry. Enjoy!

Lost you again (Vergil x Reader angst)

Vergil had been hellbent on obtaining power for as long as he could remember. The agony of losing all of his loved ones burned in his heart, fueling his desire to rise and conquer, to become the strongest of them all with the most abilities, the untouchable god who could never be defeated, all so he didn't have to bear the pain of losing someone close to him again.

Yet somehow, even with all of his strength and zeal, even with the demonic bloodline of the legendary Sparda, Vergil still failed, miserably. His lack of skill, his weakness, his foolishness, led to the love of his life being ripped away from him, right before his eyes.

While the details were fuzzy, as he'd lost consciousness not long after it happened, he remembered you running up to him in a dark, god-forsaken place. Was it Hell? It might have been Hell. He remembered how he was shocked to see you in a place like this, but grateful and a tad bit touched that you'd decided to come looking for him, however you managed to get here. Your dedication was unshakable; he loved you so much for that. Then the demons came, hordes of them, swarming, growling, clawing at the ground as they hurried towards you two. Both of you put up a good fight, sure, but the sheer amount of these creatures soon proved too much. Exhausted, Vergil felt his limbs become heavy, his vision shake and dim. He was tired, as much as he'd detested to admit it, and so were you.

The moment you let your guard down was the moment those horrible creatures struck, leaping into the air and piling on top of you until you were buried under their fleshy, writhing bodies. Vergil can still remember your screams as they tore your flesh from your bones; he can still see the ocean of blood that stained his boots every time he closes his eyes. It all lasted for just a second, then you were gone. The next thing he knew, he was hanging from chains, about to meet a fate worse than death at Mundus's hands.

Speaking of Mundus, it seemed Trish wasn't the only clone that thing had produced. Vergil never thought he would have the honor of seeing you again, yet here you were, finally reunited with him after who knows how many years. You were still so perfect, so beautiful, so sweet, so lovely. It was everything Vergil could do to keep from throwing himself at you and smothering you in a bone-crushing hug until you coughed and playfully begged for mercy.

"I found you," He mumbled, taking a few tentative steps towards you. "I found you...you have returned...I...never thought I would see you again."

Your warm smile slowly flattened into a line at these words; Vergil's world growing damp and dark, about to cave in around him. All it takes is one more push.

"I'm sorry...who are you?"

There it was. The push.

Vergil felt his heart start pumping an insane amount of blood, forcing it into his body like it had a mind of its own and thought he was going to die. Perhaps he was; the man had never felt more crushed. The universe seemed to hate him, he thought, as he stood before you with tears silently streaming down his face.

I must be cursed, He reasoned, as he watched you flash him an apologetic, sympathetic smile, not at all like anything he remembered. This wasn't his lover. This wasn't his baby. This was a cheap imitation who might look the same, but would never be the same. He would never know your laughter again; never be able to experience your assuring hugs and gentle kisses. This demonic copy would never be like you, even if they tried.

Despite his sadness, Vergil felt a small grin creep onto his face, out of irony, if nothing else.

It looked like he had indeed found you, but then he'd promptly lost you again.

[christinebloodwrittings]

Something exactly like this.

Here we start a new series, at last I regained my love for writing n' reading 🥰

I have no idea how to write Hobie's accent, so apologies for that in advance. Any input and advise is well welcomed ☺️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mention of blood, injuries, fighting, cursing, anxiety.

Words: 2022

Chapter one: What else you got?

"When will you ever grow up?! Going against our path, is going against the family!" My father yelled, speaking about his religion and how I refused to believe in his insanity while punching the table to accentuate his anger.

"Then maybe I was never really a part of this shit family!" A smack on the face, it came from across my step mother that had entered the conversation, "Never come back, insufferable brat" she spit at me.

I had had it with them, so I flipped them off and left with a duffle bag on my shoulder.

As soon as I arrived to the train station and took seat inside the train, my heart broke, tears streamed down my face, like a wild river I tried to hold back when I looked the disappointment in my father's eyes.

Let's start from the beginning, my name is Y/n L/n, and it's been two weeks since I moved to the big city. A friend got me a job on a coffee shop and a small flat near it, without her I would've slept on the streets probably, so I owe her a lot.

Every day is the same! It's going to drive me crazy. I make the minimum for attending crazy fucked up people! Every day is the same compalints, some about the damm prices, the ice cream flavors, the fact that not always we have cash to break a 20, bitch come on, who buys a two dollar coffee with 20 or 100 bucks?? Seriously, people are crazy, and they take it on me just because I'm on the counter almost all the time.

I'm fucking tired.

Then one night, I was doing inventory when Jess, on the subject that I owe her a lot, she practically begged me to accompany her to a very illegal show downtown, on a sketchy bar no less. "I don't know Jess, those shows aren't really my thing, neither is a lot of people on a confined space" you shrugged, "Come on Y/n, my boyfriend is playing the bass, but I don't wanna go alone, maybe I could even present you to a few people, so you have friends, other than me" I looked at her with a stern look, that was the least of my concerns.

"It's just...you look so lonely and sad all the time, maybe you could have some fun, ya' know, to loosen up the stress from work" before she could keep blabbering reasons to go, I caved. "Fine" she yelled a high pitched "Yay" and hugged me.

It's amazing how easy is to get killed in the city nowadays, my first couple of days working I got shocked with how many corpses I encountered as soon as I opened my apartment door, but then I got used to it? I don't throw up as much as before, so that's a start.

But everything is so messy right now, with V.E.N.O.M tasks forces roaming the streets, people instead of being scared, they've become violent. I have no idea how Jess can be so hyped about a show when there's like an 80% chance we'll get killed in the process.

But hey, YOLO right?

Since it was a punk event, she wanted me to "blend in", as to not dress as a total nerd like I always do according to her. So we stopped at her apartment to get ready.

She lend me a plaid mini skirt, mid thigh stockings, a learher jacket that ended mid torso, a dark red shirt with a weird spider logo, a spiky choker and did a very goth or punk-like work on my face.

I didn't recognized myself, but I didn't quite hated it either.

Black boots with chains completed the look according to her, "Ya' look stunnin', honey" she squealed, coming out of the bathroom ready herself, wearing all things similar to mine, with the addition of a oversized denim jacket filled with band related pins and patches.

"Your boyfriend's, I suppose" she turned back to me, blushed slightly, "He gifted this to me, he's so cool and corny, I love him so much".

I am jealous of her. Her boyfriend has stopped by work a few times, he's tough but nice and very likeable. I could tell he would go to hell and back for her.

I was so fucking jealous of that.

The place wasn't really far from my apartment, which would allow me to slip away in case I needed it, oh boy, not even two seconds inside and I already wanted to run away.

It was a mess of all kinds of black dressed people, like the pride parade but goth, punk and violently weird. Jess seemed to be fine around the mess, she was a natural, totally in her element.

There was this feeling climbing up my spine, weakening my knees and my lungs, anxiety making her debut.

"C'mon let's get to the front before they start playin', otherwise we won't be able to see shit!" She pulled me across the sea of leather and spikes, I sensed a lot of stares and wolf whistles, probably not for me, but it felt so alien to me.

The group made its introduction, the crowd wildly started screaming and jumping, shoving us against the fence that kept us away from the stage. The amps to the limit, and the people jumping and shoving, everything begun to spin, in a haze I believed myself to be drunk but totally sober, "Jess! I wanna leave" I tried to scream but she couldn't hear me. Couldn't move either, trapped in between the fence I could only close my eyes in hopes the pain in my ears and my chest would end soon.

A hand took mine, out of a sudden I was on the other side of the fence. Due to the momentum I clashed against a bunch of pins and chains, "Follow me" He said, not ever letting my hand go, he lead me backstage, where the sound of the still going music and cheering was a bit muffled, barely bearable.

"Better?" I looked up to him, he had a wild black mane, piercings on his brows and his lower lip, stunning factions and he was built amazingly. "Yeah, sorry about the trouble" he chuckled at my embarrassment, "S' nothin', stay here all you need" he winked and rushed back to the stage, the screaming intensified as soon as he did.

A while later, Jess got to the backstage by the arm of her boyfriend, "Oh, honey I'm so sorry, are you feeling okay now?" I shook my head, hugging myself in absolute embarrassment. "'m gonna head back, sorry" she held me as soon as I was about to leave, "First, your knight in denim armor, Hobie I can't thank you enough" she thank him.

So that was his name, Hobie.

"No problem, that was a bad edge" his accent was so thick that's all I got to hear him say. "Hobie we need to scram, they are on their way, get the explosives" said none other than Jess's boyfriend, "Another raid? But babe" she whined, not caring about the sudden violence about to be unleashed apparently.

"Jess we need to leave, now!" I tried to take her away, but she resisted and shoved my hand away from hers, "I'm actually gonna stay for this one, Spider-Man might actually appear this time" She excitedly left with her boyfriend.

How could she just left when there was going to be another raid outside?! "Why today, I knew I shouldn't have come to this stupid thing!" Searching routes, but nothing came to mind, the sound of the tasks forces was loud, and the one from the rebellion was even more so.

Everything went down because of Oscorp taking over, then Spider-Man showed up to shake up the masses into a furious rebellion, it bothered me tat the rebels acted as if the destruction, the purchase of weapons from gangsters, and the eternal bustle, would change the fact that V.E.N.O.M had almost completely taken over the streets. The rebellion regained territory in the last assault, but in that hell several young people died, and not even Spider-Man could do anything about it.

Usually I don't get into that shit, because for fun I rather go dancing at the club, though I admit I threw a Molotov at a task forces's car, once the opportunity presented itself.

When I got out, everything was smoke, explosions, people running, crying and shouting with hate. The alley that led to the passage where I would hopefully make it to my apartment was across the fire. I plucked up my courage and ran, a little difficult because of the platforms on my shoes, the damn mini skirt, and because of the shooting that started when I managed to jump over the puddle of burning gasoline.

I fell and hit all the cement on my legs and arms, I got up quickly because the adrenaline was stronger than the bullet that grazed my knee, so I managed to take refuge in the back of the building.

"Where you think you goin' bitch" A cop grabbed my arm, seeing that I resisted him the baton on his other hand hit the back of my knees and then I had no other choice but to fall, the cut on my knee bleeding even more, but I couldn't feel it yet.

He rises the baton to hit me again, but it got swooped off his hand, in about a second that same cop was literally mummified to the wall, all covered in spider webs.

"You okay?" Red and blue suit, spikes on the head of the mask, denim jacket and boots, yeah a hero alright. "Peachy" He just saved me, but the bitterness from my friend bailing on me, the recent anxiety attack, the raid, the pulsing wound that I made the mistake of acknowledge, and the posible bruise from the baton, got to me pretty fast.

"Go save the others, I'm fine" he didn't moved, instead he stretched his hand towards me, "Let me take you some'ere safe first" normally I would've sent him to hell itself, but taking everything into consideration, I ended up agreeing.

As soon as I took his hand, he pulled me up and into his arms. He secured my waist with his arm, "By the green building is alright" he nodded then fired his web, without warning he took flight, taking an even firmer grasp on my waist.

Meanwhile I hid my face on his neck and yelled a bit.

As soon as we landed I shoved myself off of his grasp, clinging to the fire stairs railing for dear life, "Bit nauseous there love?" He joked, "A warning would've been appreciated" I swallowed the bit of puke that threatened the back of my throat, "But thanks, I'll take it form here".

My knees quivered when trying to make a decent step, the pulsing hurt behind my legs, "Ya' sure?" He asked, getting at a safe distance from my pathetic state, "Yeah, now aren't you needed elsewhere?" He slightly laughed at my embarrassment, "That can wait, they were holding it up, a'right" I could hear his smile under that mask.

"Need help there, love?" He offered, making it sound more like a tease, his hand reaching towards me once more, "I'll be careful" He promised. I caved again, after all, I lived in the eighth floor.

"Now we're good, night spiderman" I tried to close the door but he stopped it with his combat boots, "What" he stayed silent for a second, "Not even a kiss?" He joked? I couldn't tell because of the mask, then he just leaned on the doorframe. I genuinely laughed, like I haven't in a while, "Thanks for the laugh, maybe next time you save me, I'll give you that kiss, how's that?" He tilted his head a bit, like thinking, then just nodded.

I think he was about to say something, but an explosion on the raid site got to his attention, "I think you're needed" When I turned my head around he had already left.

[ilovejoll]

OKOK BIG DORIAN EXPLANATION SO UHHMM TO EXPLAIN THIS I ALSO NEED TO EXPLAIN HIS FAMILY KIND OF!!!

(disclaimer some of this is speculation. he was only in two scenes in this game let me breathe)

He has a mother (Rhinedottir) and four siblings we know of but im only talking about two of them: Durin and Albedo.

Rhinedottir is an Alchemist from Khaenri'ah (u probably know abt it but in short place the archons destoryed bc of celestia. rhinedottir is one of the sinners who lead to that)

She created life. she made lots of things but the ones we know of are elynas, golden wolflord, durin, dorian, and albedo.

Durin is a giant dragon with toxic blood, and dorian/albedo are human. Rhinedottir made dorian as a prototype to albedo (before khaenriah fell also!! albedo was made after) for whatever reason she determined he was a failure, and fed him to durin. his brother. like any normal mother would yknow.

durin was later killed(?) by dvalin/stormterror after he went insane and destroyed mondstadt. he fell onto dragonspine and his bones are still there. Durin is NOT TECHNICALLY DEAD (thats very important) hes "slumbering"

Durins toxic blood, likely because hes coming back to life (WINK WINK) brought dorian back to life. Dorian, upon seeing albedo getting to live a happy, fufilling life, dorian became very jealous. however, he believed he couldnt just live his life now. he believed his only way was to kill and replace albedo (he hardly knows anything else.)

now, albedo does NOT live with rhinedottir. she left a while back thats a whole other thing this aint about her!!

so albedo and the traveler meet during some kind of event in the adventurers guild idrc abt this part it doesnt matter. but albedo finds his workshop RUINED. things are thrown around and his alchemy notes are missing. they go looking for the theif and narrow it down to a cave. albedo goes in, the traveler stays outside

dorian, disguised as albedo, shows up to talk to the traveler a while later. First thing he does weird is greets the traveler with just yes. (albedo doesnt do that!!! hes quite friendly!!!) and hes very awkward in the whole interaction. paimon and the traveler collected some starsilver and asked him if they should throw out the bad parts. he responds with a little rant that i know almost by heart so:

"Yes, the sorting process IS necessary. humans are such practical creatures. they only want those things that are good. once theyve found the difference between good and bad, they will NEVER stop comparing things in their minds"

so. a lot to unpack there even if it doesnt seem like it. First of all, he refers to humans seperate to himself. "but hes not human!" is a decent argument and yeah its true he was artificially created by alchemy but its also interesting because A) albedo refers to himsel as an "artificial human" and not inhuman as a whole. and B) rhinedottir is human. thats a very vital part of her and albedos character. this is a jab at rhinedottir as much as it is a representation of how he feels inferior. this is WHY he believes he cant live his own life.

On top of that, hes convinced rhinedottir is like all humans (generalizing them very quickly) so he believes they wouldnt accept him most likely. after this the traveler goes to find bennett when hes yelling and dorian leaves while theyre not looking.

i dont know if this is dorian or whoppy (we'll talk about him) but theres also a scene where this little kid (joel) is led away by a fake albedo and when eula confronts him, he attacks her and flees.

now there are three albedos: the real albedo, dorian disguised as albedo, and the fell flower.

In order to distract albedo, dorian uses the notes he stole + durins blood to create a whopperflower. not just a whopperflower, a whopperflower who can replicate albedos appearance. this whopperflower is the fake albedo you see for the rest of the event. at the end, the whopperflower attacks the event gang (traveler, paimon, amber, eula, and bennett.) and they fight him off. when hes about to attack again, albedo impales him and he turns into this thing

big whopperflower.

the traveler kills(? i think idk) him and they settle everything going on. but dorian is still alive. at the end, albedo pieces together that this is his brother (he doesnt say that exactly btw he doesnt rlly even consider durin his brother) and says that in dorians place, hed have done the same. and dorian is seen watching him from the top of the mountain. albedo draws his sword and thats where the cutscene ends and ur just left with the gameplay for primos.

now dorian is not confirmed dead (to ME hes in the fatui but yknow. OR THE ABYSS ORDER. dorian please join the abyss order we need you... i love you abyss order) and theres a lot that can be drawn from his general lore if you SQUINT. A LOT. its most likely that if dorian IS his name, he gave it to himself, as the golden wolflord (also discared altho not killed by rhinedottir like dorian) was never given a name. also the amount of interactions hes had with durin could imply he was somehwat not in his right mind (durin lore is complicated and would take a whole other rant but his toxic blood can corrupt ppl possibly)

i, of course, choose to believe that if durins blood had any effect, it was just making him bold. considering durin himself, under the effect of his own blood, had no idea he was hurting people.

IM OUT OF THINGS TO SAY THAT ARENT JUST HCS LIVE LAUGH LOVE DORIAN THANKS FOR COMING TO MY DORIAN TALK!!!!!!

OK. OMG. FIRST. THAT WAS ALOT TO READ WHICH I LOVE BECAUSE I LOOVEEE READIMG THWNKYOU SO MJCH FOR YHIS LING YUMMY DELICIOUS PARAGRAPH. A SECOND. OH.MY GOF? THIS SI FUCKIMG AWESOME? I LEGITIMATELY DONT REMEMBER SHIT ABOUT GENSHIN BUT THIS SIS SO GOOD LIVE LAUGH LOVE DORIAN. YOURE FAMOUS.DORIAN. UOURE FAMOUS. You’re the captain of explaining thqnkyou I will be putting this in my notes for later. <3

[hms-no-fun]

14 again, but this time “Meat or Candy” interpreted as narrative philosophies rather than the halves of the epilogues

aghhh this is so mean!!! i've always read the meat/candy dichotomy as sides of the same coin rather than two discrete narrative philosophies, and homestuck itself as a structural exploration of various ways to balance/unbalance the split. picking between one or the other is like picking between air & water!

i certainly write godfeels with an eye towards finding a balance. serious drama needs to be offset by goofy comedy, cool anime fight scenes need to be offset by cursed bullshit or drydick exposition. chapter 8 especially is meant to be a tonal roller coaster. 'the shadows left behind' for instance is an almost 40,000 word long section about a depressed idea slowly clawing back personhood from their out of control death drive. there's murder attempts, there's suicide attempts, there's gore, there's psychological torture-- it's some of the heaviest shit i've ever written! and yet that same chapter also contains some of the funniest shit i've ever written. a story like this NEEDS that kind of variation to maintain reader interest, otherwise you get bogged down in seriousness or get so sucked up into lightheartedness that you lose all sense of substance.

like that's very much the reason ch8 ends with an epilogue full of jargon and exposition and obtuse metaphysics. i knew, at the close of ch8 act 5, that we were finally opening the door to what i consider The Good Shit. but it wouldn't be right to jump straight from that endpoint to where 3.2A begins. from an archival reading perspective, you need a palate cleanser to pull you back out from the thick of it and re-examine everything that just occurred from the outside. within the rest of ch8 there is a constant ebb and flow between meat tendencies and candy tendencies; what the epilogue reveals is that it was all candy in some sense, because it was functionally one extremely long action scene. it does this by serving as the meaty parallel, something much closer in tone and purpose to the author-insert sections of homestuck proper. it's meant to feel tedious and tantalizing at the same time, something you have to eat slowly and chew on to properly digest after the insane fast pace of [s] saturday. and even the epilogue swings back and forth between funny and serious! it's meat/candy all the way down!!

i suppose like any red-blooded american of the toonami generation, i have the most fun as a writer when i'm indulging myself in the candy of dumb anime bullshit. most of 'the shadows left behind' was back-constructed from the scene where Dare's "body" gets impaled and cut to shreds by X and they just keep walking towards it anyway. especially that moment where X tries to swallow them a second time, and Dare grabs it by the jaws and throws it off-- that whole sequence popped into my head and suddenly it clicked for me, oh shit, Dare is the secret shonen anime protagonist of godfeels! everything beforehand was a prelude to that moment when June really sees Dare for the first time, asks if they're real, and they shout defiantly, YES!!!

probably every writer does this to an extent, where they write towards some cool/interesting shit they can't get out of their head. there's a temptation to just go there, just get to the good stuff, because ultimately it's what you're there for and you KNOW the audience is gonna lap it up. but if you give in to that temptation and just string together all those keystone moments with bare-minimum bridging material, you paradoxically rob those moments of all their meaning and energy. did 'the shadows left behind' need to be 40,000 words long in one go? probably not. but i don't think the final culmination of that story would have hit nearly as hard otherwise.

you need meat to sell the candy. i wanted 3.2 A1 for instance to be much shorter than it wound up being, because god damn it i want to get to The Good Shit already!! but i realized very quickly that everything i wanted to get to would be poorly served by a cast of characters whose reasons for participating are murky at best. so i decided to invest in more of those meaty chapters between jade and various characters, which themselves needed their own fluctuating balance between meat tendencies and candy tendencies. from a structural standpoint it sort of becomes a meat/candy fractal, as each subdivision of each narrative unit has to maintain the same relative push-pull frequency that the entire fic as a whole does. does that make sense? i have no idea if that makes sense lmao.

anyway that's my take on the meat/candy split. hope it was satisfying u_u

[spacedhead]

homestuck rereading post #3: hivebent part 2

(im adding this part when im done with this whole thing but most of my text is referring to the image under it unless stated otherwise. but i think you can tell based on the spacing when that isnt the case)

im beginning to think these titles are too long. anyway LETS FUCKING GOOOO I LOVE TAVROS NITRAM

one thing about him is that he loves fiduspawn. which as we all know is an allegory for pokemon. is allegory the right word? sources say: probably not

:) hes clappingggg

do not answer that message. keep looking at your posters. if you know whats good for you you wont even look at your computer . throw that shit away

whats her deal????

⬆️ okay well that was actually a pretty tame first interaction. she was just like haha tavros im gonna beat you at this game L and tavros was like uhhh i think we shouldnt talk . but you know him. he continued talking to her anyway. like a chump or something

what is her deal!!!!!!!!!!!!! why does the story keep framing kanaya as this bugger/meddler/fusser . she is so cool though and Normal.

tell me why this is so scary . what is this a horror story. relax

/ROLLS EYES

me on the overwatch grind every damn day

karkat wishes he had even an ounce of the swag and rizz nepeta has. you will never be her.

this is kinda funny. but he is lame its true

TAVROS GAHH YOU KILLED YOUR LUSUS. FUCK

foreshadowing.... this is like in dragon ball z when goku and piccolo are fighting raditz and goku is like "well strength isnt the only thing that matters in a fight!" and raditz is like "you are a fucking moron LMAO"

it actually isnt a real thing to say. so

oh man this is so fucked up

man he cannot catch a break right now

this interaction between karkat and vriska is interesting to me cause its karkat being like a really awful person to vriska and i would feel bad but i JUST watched her paralyze tavros while berating him and laughing at him. so its like damn. i dunno how to feel ...

okay well . this is a little bit rude but whatever

this is so awesome . you love to see a girlboss winning

what is she waffling about

i have nothing to say about the equius stuff. anyway check out this particular interaction. ⬇️

⬆️surely no more stabbing in the back between these two.

me when someone tells me vriska has w rizz. idk . this is crazy though

oh Wow

she is fuh reaking out right now . someone please get her some therapy. also all of them? all of them need it

tavros is on that no hate grindset i love to see it

i wonder if i had different color blood if my fans would turn on me. some fans they would be.... i actually have no idea what im talking about right now but i love to ramble on and on about inane bullshit so

handshakes all around to those who made it this far.

WOOOO RESIDENT LESBIAN INTRODUCED. the crowd goes fucking insane

ROSE MENTIONED!!! gosh it feels like its been so long since ive seen her.....i miss those damn kids....

im being forced to end this one here (i hit the image limit) but im coming back with a vengeance soon because we are just getting started with this DAMN SESSION

[blindedguilt]

🧑‍🤝‍🧑💜💧🤝⛔🌈☀️👔☕🩹💀💬🤫(either)😨(also either)❌🚫 |[I'd have sent some others but...]|

🧑‍🤝‍🧑 - Family by choice/Found Family 💜 - Friendship 💧 - Friends Due to Traumatic Experiences 🤝 - Coworkers ⛔ - Reluctant Friends 🌈 - Developing Friendship ☀️ - Friends of Circumstance 

👔 - Strangers Working Together ☕ - One Muse Works in Service to the Other 🩹 - Friends Forced to Work Against Each Other 💀 - Enemies 💬 - Enemies Because of Conflicting Ideologies 🤫(either) - One Muse is Secretly an Enemy/Traitor to the Other 😨(also either) - One Muse is Using the Other for Their Benefit ❌ - Guilty by Association 🚫 - Friends to Enemies 

//BUT WHAT?

//Show me. Show me now. Now. Now. Now. Now. Now. No-

//OKAY BUT YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS honestly like //I bless 1.3 everyday for the chance to explore a solid enemy dynamic between these two because *deadass*,,, they've had it all there? Both closely or equally matched in strength, having conflicting ideologies and DEFINITELY having their moments where that divide could have resulted in a spat if leonard wasn't such a fuckin coward shaking in his boots during the garrison, but the fact OF Leonard's cowardice and guilt resulting in that and Caim not,,, being completely batshit insane, not to mention that the stakes are high enough (The end of the world) that they're really mostly just forced to get along till that's over at worst and develop some kinda small bond of comradery and/or friendship??? over it at best is great, I'll def get into that later but then 1.3 kinda comes along and asks

//What if they DIDN'T have those things holding them back? Leonard isn't made a coward by a wish to die and his extreme sense of guilt. Whatever sense that kept Caim from going COMPLETELY batshit resulted in him losing all sense completely (albeit, gradually). That, AND not only is the world no longer faced with a threat that affects both of them in the sense they need to come together, but challenges their ideologies and philosophies on life (Particularly the Pacifism vs. Warmongering aspects of it) that causes them to split completely. Set that up with the fact that (Later), they both become similarly/equally matched at a completely insane level virtue of dragon's blood, and (maybe throwing arioch into the mix as an assist trophy, though she deserves FAR more) we have ourselves literally the most metal fucking enemies ever

//... Which forever makes me sad we didn't get to see a showdown with them in 1.3. Granted, the Arioch shit was fan-fucking-tastic, I couldn't have asked for a better alternative way for him to go out, but... *Sigh* ... That's where we come in though!! We gotta write either an alternative take where they can actually showdown or like a small thing before then where they can spat briefly (? But is there even really stopping them? XD) again and match each other's strength where they're both cracked up on that blood because damn......

//That said, at the same time I really do wonder what that proper enemy dynamic would look like between them in DOD1, but that begs the question - Sure, if it comes down to a fight we all know that Caim is the last one to back down, but that begs the question - What's there to overcome Leonard's grief and cowardice and uh,,, the concept of the entire world ending to get him properly mad at Caim?

//.... Iunno. Probably Seere. XD

//Circling back, their opposite contrasting natures ALSO makes their friendship bond extremely sweet and heartwarming in a sense, both in the vein of Caim's "Guess I care about this slow dumb sack of shit now, STOP ADMIRING THE FLOWERS AND HURRY IT UP ASSHOLE" and Leonard's "He's like an angry little brother if he was sent from hell. calm down please, where the hell are you even getting all that energy? my back hurts, i want to go home"

//Of course, they have their own multitude of reasons why they wouldn't dare actively show anything that could tip off the small part that's kinda warmed up to them, though they both show it in the smallest and most subtle of ways that I feel neither would really notice in most cases, though if it had stopped happening for one reason or another they may just sit and realise how unnatural or otherwise unecessary that kind action really was, in a sense

//I like to think it's a small part of their contrasting natures they both secretly find comforting or,,,, "enjoyable"??? but not quite or even have slight envy for about the other, Caim's "I do what I want and bet you my left nut I won't care about the consequences" attitude contrasting Leonard's repression and perhaps Leonard's peaceful, somewhat hopelessly optimistic "I wish we just lived in the kind of world we didn't have to fight and deal with all this death and misery" maybe bringing Caim back to that simpler time when the broad, general view of the world really was just that for him

//Of course, it's the main thing they hate about each other, especially at it's worst - Caim's willingness and eagerness to kill and harm a bunch of children who, in one sense are innocent, but in the other provoke a certain desire in the both of them, is as shocking and infuriating to Leonard as Leonard's terror and repulsion at the same thought is to Caim which is why Leonard's Regret is literally one of the most PERFECT ally chapters in showcasing their different characters still, as far as that kind of "brother-in-arms affection" runs between the both of them, I like to think they have a certain vicarious envy in regard to those same facets.

[cola-vampire]

I've pitched this once and I'll do it again with you. Major spoilers for outlast trials

I have an au that the mysterious corporation that's mentioned in UF that Bill was making a deal with for the time machine was Murk Off Corp from the Outlast games. And since Layton's games are supposedly based in 1950-1960's it'd make sense for them to co-exist as trials took place during that time.

Clive, instead of doing like prison time or community service. Is sent to Murk Off as a new subject. A new reagent.

He gets those goggles drilled into his skull, gets made to destroy all of his records in the practice trial. Then gets dropped in his new room that he's at the very least allowed to decorate. He meets Bronev who's somehow still alive there but learns he was just put there not long ago. As he's too much of a danger to society and everyone thinks he isn't gonna get out of prison anytime soon, so why not just make him a test subject? No one's gonna miss a terrorist.

Clive and Bronev DO NOT get along and constantly fight. During trials, they'll be attempting to kill one another. Like throwing a glass bottle at Clive to make the sergeant charge at him or Bronev being locked out of a safe room to run for his life or get stabbed by the freakishly cold-blooded clone of himself that showed up. Probably also hog all of the supplies too like batteries and antidotes.

They either complete the trials and become killing machines with words to activate kill mode and go off to assassinate whoever Murk Off orders them to.

There's also a slim chance that... they're so broken they become part of the trials and are one of many dangers for other subjects. I don't know what they'd do but I can imagine things would be much more difficult with two new threats.

Or

They make it to the 70's where it gets shut down and they're excused. But it's already too late and they're permanently mentally and physically damaged that they're unable to be normal people. They'll go insane and knowing Bronev he'll start another damn group probably or just die idk. Clive could try to return to London and attempt to be normal but he'd most likely break down and hallucinate severely, so he'd get locked up again.

There is no good ending to this, there is only pain and suffering.

Also if Murk Off is that corporation, I wonder if Bill getting Layton's ass kicked was some fucked up merciful saving? Like "you don't know what they'll do to you if you try to expose them" type shit??? I don't want to excuse Bill but it could've been more than trying to keep his image safe in this au.

People with PL AUs

🎤🎤🎤

Pitch me the idea

[reminiscingtonight]

Competitive Fire

Lindsey Horan x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: inspired by the laughter permitted episode where our fav chaotic twins discussed Lindsey’s ping pong competitiveness in great detail

[WOSO Masterlist]

It’s not her fault she was born with a competitive streak. If you really think about it, it’s her competitiveness that’s gotten Lindsey to where she is today.

And by today, she doesn’t just mean the USWNT camp. Nope, she also means stuck in a high stakes ping pong match.

After demolishing anyone and everyone who dared challenge her in the game, Lindsey hasn’t had one singular game with an opponent who actually posed a challenge to her. With the excuses of “I don’t know how to play” to “I’m not insane enough to play you,” none of her teammates have wanted to play against her for months.

She was still trying to get Tobin to crack, but the chill forward apparently just didn’t care enough to actually break out those fiery ping pong skills she’s heard so highly of. 

This is why when it was announced that a new forward was being called up for camp that Lindsey was beyond excited. New blood to fight and all that.

“Oh cool, ping pong? Sure, I’d be down.”

The audible gasps that can be heard around the room after your words ring out has you slightly confused, but you think nothing of it. 

Lindsey only smiles gleefully to herself. Before she can take her spot, Sam grabs ahold of her elbow. Lindsey gives Sam a look that has the other blonde rolling her eyes at her. 

“Please take it easy on her? We actually want her to come back to camp next time.”

Lindsey only smirks, giving her shoulder a good roll. “No promises.”

She turns back to you, ball and paddle in hand. “You want to start?”

You give her a polite smile, getting into your stance as well. “Nah, you have the ball already, so you can--”

You’re not even done speaking when the ball comes flying towards you. 

Yes, Lindsey knows it’s a bit of a cheap move, but there’s just no taming the competitiveness inside of her. After all, you don’t win games by playing strictly by the rules. 

Lindsey can almost feel the burn of disapproval from Sam’s gaze on her, but in the end it doesn’t even matter. Because in the end she’s not expecting it when you flick your wrist just right, sending the ball hurtling right back towards her. It flies right over Lindsey’s unsuspecting frame, hitting the wall behind her with a light bounce. 

At first only silence can be heard in the room. Then comes a low whistle. “Damn. Whup her ass, Y/N!”

Lindsey glares at a gleeful Emily, who just pumps her fists in the air behind the new forward. 

“One-oh, still yours.”

Stormy blue eyes meet yours. 

Lindsey clenches her jaw. 

It was so on.

---

The word ‘fuming’ would be an understatement for how Lindsey feels right now. After a hard fought 19-17 loss, followed by a quick rematch with the result of a 13-10 loss, and then an even more humiliating 11-5 loss, Lindsey is ready to throw something. Or hit something. Or all of the above. 

Her losing in ping pong at camp has never been heard of before. At least until now. 

“One more!”

By now, most of the girls have moved on to other activities. Mal had dragged Rose, Sam, and Sonnett away to go swim a while ago. A couple of the older girls went out for coffee. 

To be honest, you feel a little intimidated to be left alone with the fiery midfielder. It takes mustering up all of your nerves to timidly voice your dissent. 

“Um, no offense, but do you think we can bond over something else? My hand’s cramping.”

Before Lindsey could tell you the two of you are nowhere near done, a familiar orange beanie pops into the room.

“Oh, there you are. When Sonnett said you had roped an innocent soul into playing ping pong…” Tobin’s words trail off when she finally takes in who Lindsey’s conned into a deathtrap. “Y/N? Dude, when did you get in? Chris has been bugging me about introducing you to the team.”

Your face breaks out into a smile as you rush into the forward’s arms.

Lindsey suddenly feels like she’s intruding on something, but she can't help but ask, “you guys know each other?”

You break out of the hug with an awkward scratch of your head. “Oh yea, Tobes used to babysit me.”

Tobin rolls her eyes at that. “Stop saying that. A) it wasn’t babysitting, and B) stop making it seem like I’m that much older than you.”

“Whatever, grandma.”

Lindsey grins when you dodge Tobin's murderous hands.

You turn back to the blonde, a matching grin on your face. “The two of us, we’re… how do you usually say it?” You throw a wink at Lindsey as Tobin watches you with wary eyes. “Tight.”

Lindsey wants to snort at the shaka sign you throw out as you imitate the older forward. Tobin looks like she’s embarrassed by you.

She sighs heavily before hooking a hand around your arm.

“Whatever pipsqueak. Let’s go. Can’t let you hide away with Lindsey all of camp.”

You throw one last wave over your shoulder before Tobin pulls you out of the room. The blonde can’t help but wonder why she feels like something’s missing now that you’ve gone away.

---

It becomes a new thing. 

After arriving at the hotel for every new camp, Lindsey somehow tracks you down before depositing you in front of a freshly found ping pong table. 

She’s gotten a couple wins notched onto her belt by now, but in the overall scheme of things, you still outplay her on the regular. 

In the beginning, the losses only urges her to challenge you to more matches. 

And then Tobin sheepishly admitted to being your training partner. Lindsey almost throttles the brunette. In the end she calls it quits. 

You seem a little saddened by the ending of your tradition, but Lindsey makes it up to you by taking you out to coffee. 

And then she does it again. 

And again. 

And again. 

Somewhere along the line, everything changes. 

Her palms feel sweaty whenever you round a corner. Her heart takes off every time you shoot her one of your smiles. Her thoughts are clouded by you and only you.

She can’t help but wonder if you feel it too. 

Still, Lindsey can’t help but want to spend all of her time with you. 

Emily makes a comment once about being replaced as Lindsey’s best friend. 

Lindsey automatically flips her off, but you shoot the blonde a devilish grin before crushing her in a tight hug. The older woman lets out a groan of complaint, but you hold on tight.

“No need to be jealous, Sonny. There’s plenty of love to be spread around.”

You almost fall off the bench when she digs her elbow into your gut, but your teasing is enough to get the other girls cackling around you. 

You meet Lindsey’s eyes over the heads of everyone and she gives you a knowing smile. 

---

The two of you dance around what you are. 

She knows you love her. 

You know she loves you. 

The two of you take too much time not talking about the things that matter. 

---

You’re in Denver when inklings of a pandemic start hitting the news.

It didn’t take much convincing from Lindsey for you to go visit her during the offseason. A simple bat of her eyelashes and pout is all it takes for you to book a flight out from New Jersey to the Rockies.

But the day soon comes when you’re due to leave. You had made plans to go visit Tobin from eons ago, and as much as you wanted to break them, you would never do that to your old friend. 

Lindsey tries to convince you to stay in Denver with her. “You’ve already been here for a couple months now, what’s a couple more?”

You try to convince her to go with you to LA. “You can always come with me, you know. Tobin and Christen are your friends too.”

Lindsey’s left with a warm kiss press to her temple when you finally part ways at the gate. 

---

You’ve only been in LA for a week when the world shuts down. 

The selfish part of Lindsey wishes you had stayed in Denver for a little longer. The thought of just missing out being able to spend quarantine with you weighs heavily on her. 

The two of you facetime nearly every day. 

Tobin constantly complains about the two of you being too grossly sweet. Lindsey laughs every time you bring up your want to leave LA. 

“If I walk in on you and Christen one more time--” 

You’re on a phone call with each other when the news drops about the canceled season and the tournament that will replace it. 

“Well at least there’s some hope, right?”

Lindsey nods. “I can’t wait to play competitively again.”

“Do you ever not take everything as a competition?”

She squints playfully at you. “You’re just afraid the Thorns will demolish you guys.”

“Hey, we got world class Emily Sonnett on our backline now. The Thorns should be trembling in their boots.”

There’s no hiding how pissed Lindsey was that the Thorns traded away her best friend. It took her a long time to come to terms with it, but the way you instantly jumped to help the defender feel more welcome in Orlando only made Lindsey’s heart beat harder for you. 

“First one out of the cup has to go support the other one.”

“Hope you’re ready to cheer on the Thorns, babe. I’ll get a plane ticket to Portland ready for you.”

Your squawk of indignation only has Lindsey laughing harder, but her heart skips a beat when later that night you reassure her that Portland will be your destination after the tournament ends.

“I can’t wait to see you. I’ll stomach being in thorns regalia if it means getting to be with you again.”

---

Orlando pulls out of the Challenge cup.

---

Lindsey’s already got the okay from Sonnett when she checked in on her best friend earlier, but she can’t help but nervously pace back and forth as she waits for your response.

She’s almost embarrassed by how quickly she lunges for her phone when it goes off. 

The first thing you tell her is that you tested negative. Your assurances that you’re okay has her breathing out heavy sighs of relief, but it’s the mumbled words that come out after a period of silence that has her losing her breath again. 

“I’m going to Man-U.”

Lindsey blinks, not sure if she hears you right. You’re looking nervous on the screen in front of her, but she really hopes that her airpods are just playing a trick on her. 

“What?”

You look away from the screen, nervously chewing on your lip. “With Orlando pulling out of the challenge cup, I just… I need playing time, Linds.”

She lets the information sink in for a moment before she whispers out her next question. She has a feeling she already knows the answer, but she really hopes she’s wrong. “When do you leave?”

You hesitate for a minute before responding. “Mid-July. They want me tr--”

“What about your plans to come out to Portland?” Lindsey can’t help but interrupt you mid-sentence. “I thought we said we would go out to see the other one in our off-time. You said--”

“Lindsey.” Just the sound of her name makes her heart break even more. “Believe me when I say that I want to be there. But this is my career. I need playing time to be considered for the Olympics.”

She can tell you’re trying hard to keep it together, but your words only set her off more. “Fuck the Olympics! This is us we’re talking about right now.”

“Linds, that’s not fair and you know it. You know how I feel about you. I would go to Portland in a heartbeat if I could, but--” 

“But I’m not your girlfriend, right?” The words are spit out with venom, and Lindsey’s almost taken aback by how angry she sounds.

It’s silent for a minute while you try to not let her words get to you. Lindsey knows she’s being unfairly cruel, but all she’s wanted since this whole pandemic started is to be held in your arms. Now that it’s all being ripped away, she doesn’t know what to do. 

“I’m not doing this with you right now. I know you’re hurt and you’re just lashing out because I can’t be there for you like I promised I would be, but I’ll still be cheering you on from where I am. I’ll just happen to be in another city, not Portland. It’s not any different from what we’ve been doing.”

It’s the way you’re so calm that has Lindsey exploding again. “Except you’ll be on the other side of the world! It’s not the same thing!”

“Lindsey--”

Shutting her eyes, Lindsey shakes her head at you. It’s all too much. If this conversation continues, she’ll just say something else that she doesn’t mean. “I don’t think I can do this right now.”

Somehow the silence left behind after she hangs up hurts more than the knowledge you aren’t coming to be with her.  

---

You call every day. 

Even though there’s an eight hour time difference, you still call every day.

Lindsey never answers. She’s ashamed of the way she left things, but she’s more scared of the things she might say if she has a chance to say anything.

You always leave behind a voicemail after every call. Lindsey pretends her heart doesn’t race every time she hears your mumbled recounts of your day. The exhaustion is always clear in your voice, but she still can’t make herself answer any of your calls. 

There’s a part of her that’s relieved when Tobin tells her both she and Christen are going to Manchester United early September. There’s only going to be a brief overlap during the time the three of you will be there together, but at least you won’t be alone over there anymore. 

She texts Tobin once during those two and a half months. After seeing a nasty collision between you and another player, because yes, she still followed all of your games even if you didn’t play in the same league as her anymore, Lindsey had to make sure you were okay. Lindsey gets a stern [Just call her yourself] text from the usually relaxed forward. It’s followed by a softer [She’s a little shaken,but doing okay] and a guilt-tripping [She just misses you dude] that has Lindsey almost dialing your number. 

Almost is the key word. 

She still can’t get herself to call you back. 

As the camp date looms closer and closer, Lindsey can’t help but feel a sliver of fear run through her. She doesn’t know how your reunion will play out, if it’ll end in tears or joy. She can only hope you’re not as pissed at her as you should be. 

When Lindsey boards the plane to the Netherlands, she doesn’t realize there’s a new voicemail sitting on her phone. 

---

After nearly missing her connection, Lindsey and the rest of the Thorns are the last ones to arrive at the hotel. Tired and jetlagged, she makes a beeline for her room, ignoring everyone in her way. 

She’s only been in her room for two minutes when there’s a knock on her door. 

Letting out a frustrated groan, Lindsey stalks towards the door. She’s ready to tell off whoever dares to add onto her already tiresome day, but then she falters the second the door swings open. 

Even though you’re wearing a mask, she can tell you have your signature lopsided grin on your face. 

Lindsey pretends her heart’s not fluttering at the sight of you. 

“I found a ping pong table on the fourth floor if you want to play.”

It’s the nonchalant but still sort of shy way you ask your question that takes Lindsey off guard. Even though she’s all but ignored you since you broke the news of your transfer you still seem as soft to her as the day you met.

It’s the way your hand is clenched around one of the paddles in your hands that gives away how nervous you are.

Lindsey has the sudden urge to make it all go away. 

Despite the clear rules about socializing hammered into her skull by the staff, Lindsey still takes the leap of faith.

The paddle feels warm in her hands when she snags it from you. “Don’t blame your time in tea city for making you lose your touch when I beat you.”

You take her jab with ease, giving her shoulder a playful nudge back. “Keep talking, Horan. I’ll just keep putting balls past you while you keep talking smack.”

---

The two of you fall into rhythm easily. 

There’s no real fire in the way you trade shots back and forth. If Lindsey from a couple years ago could see the two of you now, she would be horrified by the lack of competitive fire. 

“You didn’t listen to my voicemails, did you?”

The mumbled words after a long period of silence has Lindsey whiffing on the ball. It falls to the floor with a thud, but all she can focus on is the slump to your shoulders, the way you suddenly can’t meet her eyes. 

It’s the fear that her despondency has really hurt you that has Lindsey blurting out the truth. “They were the only thing that kept me sane these past months.”

You look up at her in shock, a confused furrow making its way between your brows.

Lindsey continues before she completely loses her nerves. “I just… I missed you so much, and they really helped make me feel less alone in Portland, you know?”

“You could’ve just picked up the phone. Or called me back.” Your words can be taken harshly, but Lindsey can only hear confusion in your voice.

“I was scared that if I actually talked to you, I’d do something stupid.”

You frown. “Like what?”

“Like try to see if United would sign me for as long as it’d take for you to forgive me.”

“Forgive you? Linds, forgive you for what? I’m not mad at you.”

It’s Lindsey’s turn to frown, the blonde gesturing to you with her hands. “The things I said the last time we talked--”

“I took you off guard. Literally flipped the plans we made months ago upside down. Your reaction was completely reasonable.”

“No it wasn’t.” Lindsey’s not sure why she’s trying to convince you to be mad at her now that she knows you don’t hate her. But she doesn’t really have much time to marinate in that thought before you’re backtracking the conversation. 

“Wait, hold up. Linds, if you listened to my voicemails, why do you think I’m still mad at you?”

She raises an eyebrow at you. “You recounting your days abroad doesn’t exactly scream forgiveness.”

“Lindse--”

“You gotta, like, explicitly say you’re not mad for me to actually believe you, you know.”

“Lin--”

“But even if you said that I still probably wouldn’t believe you--”

“I’m going to Portland, Lindsey. Orlando’s announcing it next month, but I’m headed to Portland.”

Lindsey drops the paddle. She’s not sure why she was still holding it, but it crashes to the floor when your words cut through her rambling. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

You look panicked for a moment, not sure what you had said wrong. “You just said you listened to my voicemails!”

“I think I would know if you told me you were going to come play in Portland!” She shoots back.

“I did!”

“No you didn’t!”

“Lindsey,” you seem exasperated at this point, and Lindsey’s not even sure why she’s even trying to fight you on this anymore. Her heart’s not sure she can believe you, but she really wants it to be true. “I literally called you last night.”

Those words are all that’s needed. 

Lindsey really wants to slap you. 

Or kiss you. 

“I’ve been flying for almost twelve hours now.”

The bashful look that settles on your face has Lindsey leaning more towards option two. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’.”

You cover your face with a hand, trying to hide your blush. Lindsey suddenly hates your hand and the mask from obscuring your entire face from her. “Hey! There’s no need to make fun of me! I just told you I’m moving to be closer to you!”

It only takes her a couple steps to get in front of you. You’re peeking out from between your fingers when you register her movements, but it’s Lindsey who still pulls your hands out of the way of your face. 

“Are you really coming to Portland?”

“Well someone’s gotta keep beating you at ping pong. Can’t let your head get too big.”

Lindsey snorts, slapping your arm. “Yeah, well you love this head of mine just the way it is.”

There’s a soft look in your eyes as you catch her hand before it falls away, intertwining your fingers. “I do. I really do.”

When her heart flutters again, Lindsey doesn’t think it’s such a bad thing.

She spends the rest of camp hoping December would come quicker. She couldn’t wait until you could be in her arms for good. 

[vquacki]

It's My Fatherly Duties!

It's My Fatherly Duties!

Short DAD Scenarios 

Characters: BONTEN - Rindou Haitani, Ran Haitani, Sanzu Haruchiyo

~ Inui Seishu, Kokonoi Hajime, Izana Kurokawa, 

~ Souya Kawata (Angry), Nahoya Kawata (Smiley)

Warning ⚠︎︎ : Mature content, cussing, MINORS DNI

Note : requested, I added some characters. Hope ya don’t mind! These are pretty short, just little things I put together. Word barf kinda..? Anyways- I hope you enjoy :))

R I N D O U 

His lashes fluttered open when he heard a loud crash coming from the hallway, along with a string of cuss words sounding like his daughter's voice. 

“What the hell was that?” You groaned, not a single word was uttered from your husband when he sprung out of bed, bolting to the bedroom down the corridor.

“Tohru?!” Rindou yelled, flinging open the door. Revealing your teenage daughter fully dressed, half way through her second story window. A facade of pillows under her blanket seeminging meant to be her ‘sleeping body’.

“Oh dad, I-”

“What the hell are you doing” The man was fuming by the ears, pajamas ruffled when he jolted out of his slumber. 

“Is Tohru okay?” You peeked from behind the broad shouldered man. 

“I was just going to get fresh air!” Your daughter lied, making up a somewhat excuse to appease her angered father. 

“Hey Tohru! Hurry up and get down here!” You heard a boy's voice call out, looking over at Rindou’s face to see the man's darkened expression.

“Who the fuck is down there? Is that a boy?!” He growled, stomping his feet over to the glass. Pushing past his daughter to take a look. 

“Oh shit- her dads here. Let’s book it!” The kids whispered, but loud enough for Rindou to make out, hastily running down the dark street. 

“You little shits! Don't you dare come back here!” Rindou growled, slamming the window shut in the process. 

“What! Dad!” Tohru whined, 

“You're so grounded young lady!” Rindou shouted, not caring for the sleeping neighbors beside his shared condo at three in the morning. 

“Rin, she was just having some fun!” You defended, you were also like her when you were her age, trouble makers run in your blood. Actually Rindou couldn't even talk- he was running roppongi at her age.  

“No! She's just too young to be hanging out with boys!” Rindou’s brows joined together as he withered in front of you. 

“But we dated when we were her age-” You deadpanned at him, 

“Grounded! My final answer!” 

R A N  

Ran was coming home from a late night bonten meeting, mouth agape when he saw his daughter’s feet dangling out from her window. 

Fearing the worst he sprinted to the ground below his child, hands outstretched to catch her if she were to misstep. 

“Mitsuri!” His voice boomed,

“Eh? Dad?!” His daughter stuttered, slowly slid out the window, climbing down like she had done this many times prior to this awkward occurrence. 

Toes easily touching the grass with ease, not a scratch upon the females porcelain skin. 

“Ran?” You yawned, cracking the door ajar. It was late, you waking up to your husband's screams outside your house. 

“Mitsuri, what are you doing climbing out your window like a maniac?!” Ran scowled, hands running through his messed up hair. Sweat dripping down his temple from the not so pleasant adrenaline rush. 

“I was just gonna hang out with some friends..” your daughter answered, fingers gripping the edge of her shirt, scarily waiting for her dad’s reaction. 

“At this time of night? .. out your window?”

“Ye-”

“Phone privileges. Give me it.” Ran demanded, palm stretched out. 

“But-” no question she was a tad bit spoiled by her father. You being the bad cop, while your husband played the good cop for his beloved daughter. 

“If you want to go anywhere all you got to do is ask!” Ran plucked the phone from his daughter's hand, a wave of relief washing over him. Secretly thanking whatever being watching over him that it wasn't some sort of gang related subject. 

“This is what you get for spoiling her!” You laughed from the sidelines, hand clutching your stomach.

“This is your fault too ya know!” Ran argued. 

“I’m the one who tries to discipline her! But someone always lets it go!” You emphasized the special somebody. 

“Whatever” Ran sighed, This was a lesson for the usual carefree man, a special lesson he wouldn't forget in the many years to come with his unborn future children. 

S A N Z U 

It was Sanzu’s best day of his life when his daughters were born, the two only being about one year apart. They were spoiled to the core, anything they wanted their money liberl father blessed them with. He thought they were the sweetest things ever, them both being a daddy's girl after all. 

He never would have expected to see both of his daughters outside his humble abode, standing beside two boys, most likely a double date. 

He stared in shock, hands pressed firmly against the glass, teeth gritting. 

“Huh? I tucked them into bed an hour ago” You rubbed your eyes, riding yourself of the sleepiness threatening to drown you. The pink haired only tutted his teeth, swifty twisting the door knob to confront the four children outside. 

“Oh you better run” your oldest daughter whispered, gesturing for the boys to make haste from her deadly father. 

“You better not come back here, unless you want trouble you fuckers!” Sanzu yelled, red in the eyes from anger. Not bothering to chase after the two scoundrels. 

“Dad, mom! What are you guys doing awake?” Your youngest asked, sheer panic in her eyes, watching her insane fathers unpleasant smile. 

“I swear you two will be the death of me” Sanzu uttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. A irked gleen in his orbs as he stared them down. 

“They were just friends dad, stop overreacting” the older daughter said, 

“I- You little shi-” He bit his lip to suppress his anger fueled words, knowing well it would definitely hurt his precious children's feelings. Having regretted it later if he were to say those sinful words. 

“Now now Sanzu, let's head to bed” You wrapped your arms around your lover, dragging him inside the house. 

“You can sort out their punishment tomorrow, after a good night's sleep” , coating him with reassuring words. That day he learned how misjudged he was of his children, even so he still loved them with all his heart.

I Z A N A 

Izana had his feet kicked up, relaxing in his office while he watched the moon. He had a clear view, the street lamps positioned next to the sidewalk, the side of his beautiful house facing his office window. He was enjoying his free time, mind taking over his body while he thought about his life choices. He was in ease until he saw his son's window light up, a long string of rope being tossed out the opening. 

Sitting up from his chair, he rushed over to his clear casement. Throwing his window open, a boy and girl standing beneath his son's window. The two holding the rope still as your child tried to slid down. 

“My my Yuki, where are you off to?” Izana laughed, nerves finally relaxing when he figured out what was going on. Calmly settling into the frame, head leaning on his chin. It wasn't like he had the right to be upset, he did much worse when he was his son's age. Robbing, fighting, killing. You name it, Izana’s done it. 

Sneaking out was nothing compared to what he did, but he wasn't gonna just let his son go. He was more wise now, he knew for a fact he didn't want his son to end up anything like him. Sure, he wanted the boy to have fun, but in a normal kid way. 

“Dad! Um- I”

“You better get your arse back up that window before I drag you around with that rope” Izana smiled, Totally different from the sentence he was portraying. Not forgetting his manners, giving a nonchalant wave to the other two kids. 

“Zana? Who are you talking to?” You asked, placing a cup of tea you had prepared for Izana on his desk. 

“Oh no one doll” Izana answered, closing the window before walking over to you. 

“Let's go to bed, yeah?” He proposed, trailing his hands around your shoulders, guiding you to the door.

“But the tea I made”

“Im tired~” 

Overall the male wouldn't want to talk further about the situation, nor would he discuss it with you. Trivial matters held no place between you both, as long as the child did not dare do it again. 

I N U I 

Inui wiped the sweat dripping from his forehead, the AC wasnt working at the motor shop. Him, draken and yourself were sweating bullets, the hot material around you not helping. You had decided to help the pair around the shop, cleaning what you could. Or helping with cashing every customer out, it would've been an easy task if it wasn't blazing hot. 

Leaving your daughter home alone, obviously thinking she’d stay and do her teenage things. You couldn't be more mistaken, astounded as you watched her fiddle around with a boy across the street at the ice cream parlor. 

“Y/N please don't tell me that Kagura..” Inui’s jaw dropped, the wrench that was once in his clasp dropping to the ground. Startling the concentrating Draken that was crouched over a motorbike. 

“What's wrong Inui? Y/N” Draken twisted his body around, raising a brow when you two just started muttering to each other like two creeps. 

“Is that... a boy” Inui held his chin between his fingers, squinting to get a better view of his kid. 

“You trying to catch flies with your mouth Inui? Close your yap” You whispered, 

“Y/N! She's too young, I feel like I just held her in my arms not too long ago. She can't get married just yet!” Inui argued, he would've been on the verge of tears if he didn't have a reputation to uphold. 

“What? The fuck are you on Inui? She's probably just with a friend!” You patted his back, reassuring the man. 

“Boys and girls can be friends ya’know” you added.

Cueing the two children across the road from you, feeding scoops of ice cream to each other.

“I don't think friends do that..” Inui looked over at you, eyes widening when you swung the motor shop’s door open. Hands coming around your mouth to amplify your words,

“Kagura, is that your boyfriend?” 

“WHAT?” Inui almost fainted, the ledge behind him holding his wobbly frame up right. 

“I didn't know you guys would be here!” Your daughter jogged across the street, leaving the boy sitting by himself. 

“And no! Just a friend” She answered your embarrassing, blushing as she stared down at the ground.,

“I sense some lies” you wiggled playfully at the flustered girl. 

“What! Anyways, Sorry I left the house without telling you” Kagura apologized, 

“Just don't do it again, without my permission..” Inui stated, 

“Especially not with a boy.”

K O K O N O I

Bribing people is his forte, and if they did not obliged? Threatening always did the trick. 

And that's exactly what he did when he saw his descendant out with a male. All was dandy until the boy came running back, babbling about how his girl was the so called ‘love of his life’.

“Hey brat, you got a death wish?” Kokonoi asked, leaning against the door frame. 

“Koko go easy on him, he’s just a kid” You nudged the man, a mischievous grin plastered on the males face. 

“And I kinda think it's cute” You said, a small smile erupting from your daughter that was not so far behind her parents. 

“I approve, kid! I like your romantic drive!” You clapped, 

“Y/N!” Kokonoi pouted, 

“You better not try to bribe him with money again” You threatened, waving a finger at the whiny man. 

“Yeah! I like him too, dad!” Your daughter agreed. 

“You're like twelve, go play chess or something” Kokonoi barked, crossing his arms in disapproval. 

“Dad, I'm sixteen!” 

“That's what I said” 

S O U Y A 

He almost had a panic attack at the sight, having to shield the man from the scene playing out. Your twin daughter saying their goodbyes to their dates, followed by a kiss. You removed your hand when the boys were no longer in view, riding off in their motorcycles. 

“Shira, Nihra” You held Souya up by the shoulder, the light headed male limping towards the worried kids.

“What's wrong with dad?” Nihra questioned, eyeing her ghostly pale father. 

“He's out of it” You giggled, 

“I'm not crazy am i?” He stood tall, letting go of the arm you had draped around him. 

“There was boys-” His voice cracked. 

“You saw that dad?” Shira sweat dropped, watching as her fathers should leave his body. 

“Next time ask before you go out” You smiled, you weren't too strict on the two. They were Souya’s children, earning most of their adorable traits from him. Even his fighting skills. 

“This better not happen again, i'm trusting you” Souya grumbled.

“Sorry pops” The two girls remorsefully sollied the man, both hooking onto one of Souya’s arms as they helped his shell into the house. 

N A H O Y A 

Nahoya was beyond pissed, infamous smile widening. Taking fast steps towards your daughter and her significant other. 

“Look boy, I don't know who you are. But my daughters not up for grabs” Nahoya grinned, cracking his fingers. 

“O-okay sir” the boy was jittering, body trembling from the males intense arua. 

“If I catch ya here again” he used his finger to slash his neck, motioning to the death that would happily greet the boy if they were to ever meet again.

“Yer dead meat kiddo”  Nahoya laughed, watching as the boy ran for his life. 

“Dad, that was really extra!” Your daughter sneered, a pout on her lips. 

“Shut up!, you're grounded rat!” Nahoya shouted. 

“Yeah Nahoya, there was no need to threaten the poor kid. He looked like he was gonna piss himself.” 

“Exactly the effect i wanted”

End Note : as I said this was a word barf T-T, so it’s quite short.

Reblogs & Notes are always appreciated! Take care! ♡︎♡︎

[cantillat-moved]

The world of mages was a dangerous one, every time he used magecraft there was a risk of a painful death if he messed up. Sure, with his current experience the margin for this to happen was minimal at best but was still there, lingering like a shadow or like a spider that patiently always rebuilds its web waiting for the right moment. The way he also turns his nerves into magic circuits could also be considered dangerous to the point of insanity, eroding away his humanity and hurting his own body every time. No matter how you look at it, Emiya Shirou isn’t normal. His magecraft also is one of a kind, an abnormal thing firmly planted in the realm of forbidden taboos of the Mage’s Association that would lead him to be hunt down if the wrong people ever figure out. Still, all of it pales compared to the truly frightening aspect of the association: the politics. Mages are heartless by nature, moved by greed and selfishness. Kind-hearted ones like Tohsaka and Luvia-san are hard to come by and they still must do whatever they need to in order to protect themselves. Most of them wouldn’t think twice about sacrificing their own flesh and blood to further whatever they have planned – as long they reach the Root or take significant steps in their family’s work, nothing else matters. In short, Shirou rather fighting all sorts of Phantasmal Beasts, ghouls, vampires or have at you than dealing with politics. Thankfully for him, he turned out to be very good at navigating it even if he wanted nothing to do with that. The young man could understand Sonia to an extend, but instead of taking the spotlight like she does he was far batter at staying in the shadows – for every individual that has the natural gift of commanding a room, there is someone who moves in the shadows. And then there’s the peanut gallery that wished they were either of them or truly believe they are the ones running the show.

❝ Ah, I see. ❞ he smiled at her decision of arming herself with alcohol of her choosing, ❝ Unfortunately I’m seasoned enough to know when to pick my battles and vices, this one I won’t be able to keep up with you. ❞ Emiya excused himself, finishing off the pilfered champagne and making a discreet gesture of “no” towards the bartender. The young man had build up his resistance since Tohsaka took him as her apprentice, but unlike her who keeps on going past her limit because she hates losing he already knows the end result of that folly.

❝ The first one I have met like that was before we’ve met. Sakura’s older brother, he was particularly handsome and had good grades, one of the most popular guys in high school and always had one girl or two clinging on to his arms.❞ he started ❝ He was actually my closest friend during middle school but by our time in high school his personality took a turn from haughty to nasty. Things happened between the two of us, we had a fight and while I couldn’t care, he held a grudge. For all I know he might still hold a grudge. ❞ a dismissive shrug. Even back at the day Shirou dismissed Shinji’s nastiness many times over, sometimes even spacing out when the guy was talking directly to him  ❝ I haven’t thought about him in a very long time to be honest. I have since met many men like him, all equally moved by their fragile egos and thinking too high of themselves but posing no real threat. The difference is that I believed at the time that he still had a sliver of goodness in him somewhere – nowadays, I have no idea. Still, we are always a stone throw’s away from men like that in our respective circles. ❞ Matou Shinji nowadays is a nobody, one of those who peaked at high school. Perhaps he strived in the “normal” world but Shirou knew nothing of that. Originally Shinji was the heir to the family, but was bereft of magic circuits – which meant that Sakura became the next in line for the Matous. Thankfully the girl bloomed into a strong-willed individual and took the household by its horns, but he wasn’t aware of the details; the only thing that Shirou knows is that Shinji is nobody in the mage world. Fuyuki is the Tohsaka territory and both family heads get along nicely so he isn’t too worried. Sure, Shinji could try to be an alchemy and build his reputation from there, but without the Matou name to back him up and his nasty personality he wouldn’t go too far – throwing tantrums at the world, blaming everyone for his own faults and thinking he is entitled to something, like a girl’s affection. That was the kind of men that Shirou didn’t give the time of the day but thankfully was a good “inspiration” for the little show he put earlier. ❝ Tohsaka called him a “gnat” to his face once back in high school. She’d always been a scary person. ❞ it was during the Grail War but he had no doubt those were her real thoughts about Shinji.

❝ It has always been a good time around you, Sonia. ❞ the smile never leaving his features, amused at how promptly the princess expressed her opinion and about the ill-timing. It was one of her particularities that Shirou thought was endearing and almost felt bad at poking fun. Almost. ❝ I must say,  ❞ he started once the bartender took his leave ❝ I have met a great number of specialists in hexes, curses, poisons and botanists but none compared to your talent of creating hazardous substances from completely innocuous  foodstuff. If you ever consider trying a hand in the occult I’d say you’d be a very accomplished alchemist. ❞ teasing aside, the same way Shinji could follow this path and his former lecturer also made up for his lack of magic circuits by using alchemy, so could Sonia if she wanted. ❝ That aside I suppose I should thank you. I’m very out of my element, meeting you here has been very reassuring. ❞ it was a little selfish of him – one of the reasons why he picked that timeframe of all days to go perform this mission was partially because all parts were in place and both his targets would be there , but there was also a high probability that Sonia would be there. Yes, it was very selfish of him to want to see her and calm his nerves before an important mission. Hopefully she could forgive him.

❝ How I would kidnap you ? Hmmm… Well, let me paint you a picture. The boring, safe way would be to simply replace your driver. ❞ the plan was coming to him as he spoke ❝ I’m aware your transport likely has GPS tracking, all I need to do would be to follow the route until a point where the signal is bad, like a tunnel, and gently use one of my talents to disable it --  ❞ he said, moving his fingertips gently ❝ -- then keep driving along the official route until reaching a point with fewer cameras and going for a detour, to a previously arranged vehicle and switching. After that would depend on where we are, of course. Let’s say… Going to the countryside where there isn’t many wifi spots. Oh, but you would have to keep your phone off too, they could track us from there. That would be the plain, boring and safest way. ❞ he laid the basis of a very simple idea that could be worked upon ❝ But that one wouldn’t be a very interesting summer blockbuster, right ? Perhaps I could come to a cruise ship with a boat and whisk you away in the dead of the night, or find a way of embarking in one of your planes and both of us jumping mid-flight. The trick part of that one would be jumping at the correct coordinates so our landing zone could be close to a getaway vehicle, but that’s also doable. Hmmm…  ❞ he trailed off, rubbing his chin ❝ Opera houses’ security can be pretty lax during the presentations, all I would need to do is to sneak into your booth and escort you to a backdoor, perhaps having an outfit hidden under your seat so you can cover yourself and make the identification through the cameras slightly harder. And to bring you back I could take you to one of your many residences and leaving you there during one of the change of shifts, the princess mysteriously re-appearing unharmed after being taken away by an unknown agent.  How does those sound ? ❞

That was the difference: one among many, at least. Despite the two of them adhering to the Monte Carlo’s dress code, Shirou seemed to merely use it as camouflage. It took someone who was so accustomed to watching others spend half a million Euro in the span of an evening as if it were nothing, someone who had family and friends alike whom, instead of simply touching up chipped paint or reupholstering a car after spilling a bottle of forty year old wine in the backseat, they went out and bought a new one.

Sonia hated seeing it, the bragging and bravado of what the most elite families in the world could buy and achieve. But it was her norm, and thus unlike him she could hold her head high and shoulders back and appear as if she belonged. Because she did: for all the time she spent in Shirou’s world, the Emiya household and the kindhearted people who came to visit, he was now firmly ensconced in hers for the rest of the evening, at the very least. Where the people, and the drinks, were often much colder. With a bite to them, something that could come as a surprise if one wasn’t careful.

At least he’d chosen one of the bars far away from the high-roller games. With plenty of empty seats, Sonia had chosen one easily that would ensure a quiet, private conversation. That part of the Monte Carlo was mostly preoccupied by the daytime tourists, who visited only to spend a few euros on a cocktail and one round of blackjack, just to say they had. At night, all the attention and activity flocked to the high stakes tables in other areas of the casino, leaving their refuge to be just that. Surely, Sonia thought, he’d scoped it out and understood the situation: all, however, except one factor of it.

“You misunderstand me, Shirou,” Sonia gave him a smirk before taking a quick glance at the leather-bound menu. Perhaps even now he still likened her to the seventeen year old foreign student enthralled by discount day at the supermarket (to be fair, some of the aggressive housewives’ behavior rivaled the Novoselic national rugby team, particularly when a most coveted product was down to its last few packages). “I said I did not wish for additional champagne or wine, but I did not say I wished to refrain from alcohol altogether.” She caught the gaze of the sole bartender on staff, nodding for her to approach. “I would like a manhattan, please.”

She waited until the bartender had taken Shirou’s order as well, disappearing down to the opposite side of the bar to prepare their order. “Someone with a big ego and no substance, you say? ” She asked, eyebrows raised. She didn’t want to admit it but she knew far too many people nowadays who fit that description. As soon as she’d become an adult it seemed, the proverbial wool had been removed from over her eyes. “I am intrigued, if you would like to explain in further detail. I do not know if my work overlaps much with your own, but such a description is one I am familiar with.”

What her vague recollection could tell her was that Rin, with Shirou in tow, had left Japan behind in favor of England, for the former to study magecraft in a dedicated curriculum with the latter to assist her. It was Rin and Hilda who had filled in some of the blanks: Rin would send handwritten letters (email, it seemed, was not her forte) about her classes, as much as she could say to someone entirely devoid of magecraft anyway, and the students within them. It had been to Sonia’s great amusement and surprise later on that the peer who vexed Rin Tohsaka the most was Hilda’s elder twin sister, her close friend from In Utero explaining in some additional detail about the prestige of the Edelfelt family. Something that Sonia and everyone else had been kept blissfully unaware: Hilda, in Sonia’s opinion, wanted to make her own way in the world (arranged marriage notwithstanding).

That was the extent of what Sonia knew of Shirou Emiya between his departure from Japan and his unexpected arrival in the Maldives, alongside his covert jobs, his radical change in appearance, and the fact he’d asked her a question with enough silence to follow that it was noticeable that her mind was otherwise distracted with trying to figure him out. “I always have a good time with you, Shirou,” Sonia blurted out the first thing she could think of, something that happened to be true and coincided with the delivery of her cocktail and an amused smile from the bartender. Shit, she must look like such a fool, though the rye whiskey would likely prove itself to be a balm to heal the wound to her dignity. “Even when you express how strange you find my hobbies or how repulsive you find my cooking. It has been some years since we have spent time together like this, but that has not changed.”

 A sip of the drink and she began to calm again. Expertly made and smooth, she let the warmth of the whiskey and vermouth settle in her belly as he proposed the idea of breaking several royal rules in order to spirit her away from her duties in order to gain just a bit of privacy, the most luxurious component of any royal household. His smile was enough to say that such a task was easier said than done: there were people who devoted their lives to looking after the future Queen of Novoselic, whether that entailed she was well-versed in the family life and hobbies of every noble and politician she met or that for every meal she was invited to, it was entirely free of plums. Oh, and of course the expected tasks of keeping her alive, unharmed, and thirteen minutes early to every appointment in her diary.

Sonia smiled in return. It was easy to do so around him: she knew now how to make even the most forced smile look real, natural and welcoming, but she didn’t need to draw it out with him. It simply happened: when he joked with her, when he added a piece of information to his mysterious past, when she saw a trace of the boy she’d once fancied beneath all that he’d experienced since he’d left Japan. “It would indeed create plenty of stories for the press to feast upon and for the Royal Family to fret over,” She agreed, though by her tone she didn’t consider either to be a detriment.  “Perhaps ideal for those looking for a film in order to escape their own lives and into ours. But since it is your suggestion: elaborate. Paint me a verbal portrait, Shirou, of precisely how you plan to kidnap me and where you plan to take me, and in turn I shall tell you if that is a film I would be interested in seeing.” It was her turn to grin, sipping at her cocktail with a coy expression. He had learned the art of the tease since they’d parted years ago, but then again, so had she.

[ghoul333]

serial lover

chapter one(?)

pairing: billy x f!reader

wc: 2.8k

summary: billy wants to kill you, but you change his mind last minute.

warnings: angst, murder, swearing, fluff(?)

a/n: i used both their point of views so i hope it came out alright. i definitely want to write another chapter. hope you enjoy! <3

He looked at you from afar. Lurking in the bushes, watching your every move. It was pretty much turning into a daily routine. He wanted you, bad. Billy was heavily debating when to break in one of these nights to kill you. Lucky for him, tonight might be the night, your parents weren't home and your siblings were nowhere to be seen. Just you, sitting pretty on your bed and staring at the ceiling.

You were the perfect victim. It had been a few years since the first killing spree in Woodsboro. Everything for the most part had gone back to normal. They thought about it for a while, and considering they had succeeded the first time, Billy and Stu decided to give it another go. Only for this job was Billy on his own, Stu being with his girlfriend.

A kind, innocent girl like you? That would be fun. Though you had never wronged the pair, you were somewhat of a loner. Quiet but willing to help when needed. Might've been a distasteful move, but damn was Billy eager to hear what your screams sounded like.

And now that you were alone, it was the perfect time to play a game.

Only you weren't.

Your brother in law, Ian, was in the living room, watching a hockey game.

Billy got into a stance when he saw you getting up from the bed, figuring you would leave the room. Instead, you paced in circles. He looked down at your hands, you were flicking your index finger against your thumb, as if it was out of anxiety. You seemed to be contemplating something.

You looked at yourself in the mirror. Billy having to duck down so you wouldn't spot him. It would be a different story if he was dressed up as himself, you two were acquainted after all, having one or two classes together. But he wasn't exactly 'himself' right now, he was Ghostface. Though he and Ghostface were one in the same, you didn't know that. You would only see a masked psycho hiding in your bushes.

He was about to pick up his cellphone to call your house phone, but something stopped him. His hand was frozen in place. When he looked back to you, he noticed a change in your expression.

You were crying in the mirror.

Billy cocked his head. What the fuck was this? One minute you're fine and seemingly calm. Then the next minute you're crying as if something traumatic happened.

He raised his brows, surprised when you stopped crying immediately, as if on cue. Your eyes had been glossy but were now completely dry.

Holy shit. Where did you learn that? He thought.

You didn't look sad anymore. In fact there was no emotion at all and for some reason, Billy loved it.

—

You wiped the tears off your face and stared at yourself in the mirror. Taking a deep breath.

Was that believable?  I think so.

A part of you wished you had someone here to let you know, but this was something you needed to do by yourself. You didn't even know if you were gonna go through with it, but the urge wouldn’t leave your mind.

Hearing a loud cheer from the other room, you groaned in disgust. You had a hard time believing your family would leave Ian here with you. Especially after all the shit you've taken from him.

You could confidently say that you hated your brother in law. Your sister disappointed you, putting up with trash like him and you resented your family for tolerating it for as long as they have. For over a year, he had lived in your house. Being nothing but a bum. Always being a fucking asshole to you and your family, then making you feel like shit when you call him out.

He could get away with it too. The fact your father was rarely in town made it easy and you hated it. You hated him. You wanted him gone, for good.

You knew there was only one way. No matter how many fights, he wouldn't leave. Refused to.

If he was gone, everything would be fine. It'd take time for some people to heal, but this was for the best.

Thinking about it put a smile on your face. Even though the inhuman thoughts ashamed you, you couldn't help but let them excite you at the same time. Never in your life had you wanted to do something like this, but you craved to see that piece of shit suffer. This would be the only time, and hopefully you wouldn't get caught.

You opened up your drawer, pulling out some scissors, studying them for a few seconds before putting them back.

You weren't ready to get blood on your hands. You looked around your room, trying to find something easy and simple. You looked down at your rack of shoes. Suddenly, an idea popped into your head.

You pulled the lace from one of your old sneakers, you'd have to dump them afterwards but you wouldn't miss them. While you wrapped the string around both your hands, something came over you. You didn't even realize you were walking to the living room, until you were standing right behind him while he watched his game. At that point, your body was doing the talking. Fuck what was actually right. Fuck morals.

Billy watched all this, following your every move. He cursed himself for not noticing the other obvious person in the house. How stupid. If he decided to pursue you there was a greater chance he wouldn't get away. Stu would've had to come. You kind of saved him there.

Seeing the single shoelace in your grip and standing so close behind Ian, he was actually anticipating your next move. Which surprised him, you had him on the edge of his seat. You had opened his eyes in those last few minutes. You had him so confused.

He had been watching you for days, basically knew your day and night routine. So, where did this come from? You put on an act, even for yourself?

He couldn't deny he thought you were, somewhat, adorable. Many victims had been adorable, but being adorable doesn't mean shit to Billy. If he wanted to gut you, he would.

There were times where you would just sit and stare into a void, but he didn't really think anything of it. He didn't realize how fucked up in the head you really were.

He couldn't kill you now, definitely not. You were turning out to be just as insane as he was. Billy felt drawn to you. He was rooting for you.

You stood there long enough for Ian to notice your presence behind him. Not even turning around, he opened his mouth.

"What the fuck do you wa-" He didn't even get to finish his sentence before you wrapped the shoelace around his neck, attempting to strangle him.

Hearing him speak irritated the fuck out of you. You'd rather cut your own ears off, but why do that? He should just simply stop talking.

He was strong, but you gave yourself props for not wearing socks, your feet were planted firmly on the ground, and they weren't going anywhere. His arms were violently swinging, voice coming out in gargles. How long did I need to do this for? Maybe a plastic bag would've been easier.

It felt like forever until he quit moving. Eventually, his arms fell limp and his breathing stopped. You stood there for a moment, the lace still wrapped around him. Had you killed him?

You decided you wanted to be sure, jerking the shoelace against his neck just one more time.

Suddenly his arm flew up, grabbing the shoelace and trying to jerk your body forward. You begin to struggle against him, pulling the lace as tight as you could so he couldn't grip it, but he was able to overpower you within seconds. Yanking you over the sofa he had been sitting on, you groaned in pain as your back hit the floor. The air being knocked out of you.

Where did that adrenaline come from?

Watching you flip like that, for some reason, worried Billy. Even he thought you had him. He couldn't let this happen, he felt the strong urge to come to your rescue. Sure, some random guy dying by the hands of ghostface didn't fit the route they were trying to take, but Billy was going to protect you tonight. He needed to.

He quickly got up from where he was crouched, beginning to creep his way towards the house. He figured he needed to move fast considering how much smaller you were compared to the man you were trying to murder.

"You little fucking bitch!" Ian managed to seethe, voice extremely hoarse. He got up from where he was standing and grabbed you by the hair, making you cry out pain. Billy heard the commotion from outside, and the sound he'd been wanting to hear. He didn't like it. Why?

Why did it make him angry to hear you in pain?

You wanted to avoid eye contact with Ian, but he yanked your hair again, making you face him. The look in his eyes seemed hungry, and not in a good way.

He gave you a vile smile, before slapping you across the face, making you tumble to the floor once again. You slowly reached up, touching your cheek. A single tear threatened to fall but you quickly blinked it away. It burned, almost vibrating from the impact. You knew the slap was hard enough for blood to come through.

Fuck.

You figured you were screwed, if you knew he was gonna grab you like that you would've just duct taped him to the coach. You really did not think this one through, even though you had been thinking about it for months on end.

You felt his body heat centimeters away from you. Looking up at him, he hovered over you.

"Thank you for finally giving me a reason to do that." He said, his tone spilling venom. "I'm gonna enjoy this."

You just stared at him, you weren't scared or upset. You couldn't even be mad, you just attempted to strangle your sisters husband. What could've been expected? You probably didn't have a great chance of succeeding anyway, but you couldn't fight your urges anymore.

People like him deserved death.

You didn't have time to process another thought before Ian picked you up, throwing you against the wall. You yelped as your side impacted harshly against the wood floor. You didn't even want to look at him anymore, you had failed and were probably gonna die, or get beat into a coma.

You didn't feel him grab you again. You didn't feel him pin you against the wall. You didn't feel the corner of the table next you digging into your side. You didn't feel anything. Not even the tears falling from your eyes.

"Don't cry now darling," He whispered in your ear, you shuddered in disgust. "This is what you wanted."

His voice made you want to vomit. Cigarettes and cheap beer leaking off his tongue. Even with him up to your ear, you could smell it. He was so fucking close. Everything about this man made you sick. You couldn't understand how your sister slept beside this thing at night.

He held your body against his while he shifted his hands. They wrapped around your throat and squeezed, very hard. You couldn't breathe. You wanted to just let it happen but your body was thinking ahead of you, once again. You grabbed his hands, trying to pry him off.

You actually couldn't fucking breathe. You were going to die, staring into this mans lifeless eyes, hearing his heaving breathing...his body pressed against yours. You would rather get stabbed to death. Or burned alive. You just didn't want him to be the last thing you saw before you died. You didn't want to die.

I fucked up.

Maybe you were selfish too. You were better off just hurting yourself to ease the pain. You couldn't get him off you and it was painful. Your vision was starting to blur.

You used your feet to try and push him off you, but your attempts failed.

Unexpectedly, you fell to the floor with a thud. You quickly inhaled a large breath of air, a small coughing spell following. You couldn't hear or see anything in that moment, just trying to get up, desperately trying to regain your strength.

Breathing had never felt so good.

Weak and in pain, you used one hand to guide your way up the wall, while the other one held your throat. As you regained your vision and started to focus on your surroundings, you began to hear struggling. Lots of struggling. You were confused, you thought it was just the both of you. As you looked up, you noticed a cloaked figure on top of  Ian.

Billy had gotten into the house from your laundry room window, finding the entrance a few days ago when he was planning how he would kill you. He crept in, being as quiet as a ghost. When he turned the corner, he saw Ian pressing you deep against the wall. He watched you struggle and fight, a few tears falling from your eyes.

He tackled your brother in law to the floor, making him lose his grip on you. Billy managed to gain the upper hand quickly, getting on top of him and wrapping his hands around his throat. Ian kicked his legs, but it did no good. Billy was too far up on his chest, sinking all his body weight onto him.

You stood there and watched. You were confused and shocked on what was happening, on where this guy came from. You looked down, noticing a knife next to the person in the black cloak. You begin to panic a little inside, wondering whether this person was saving your life or here to take you both out.

It only then hit you that the knife and the black costume seemed way too familiar.

Oh shit...It can't be.

Was this, The Ghostface?

From what you and the rest of Woodsboro knew, that killer who committed all those murders years ago was supposed to be dead. So what was he doing here?

You snapped back into reality when you heard Ian trying to speak. Looking at the both of them, you saw Ian's arms swing violently once again. Billy had managed to dodge most the swings, his arms steadily pressing down on Ian's throat. He did take a few hits to the face though, but he had been through worse.

It wasn't until he started reaching for the mask.

Billy could only lean back so far, if he tried anymore Ian would gain the upper hand in a matter of seconds. He usually didn’t care, since they were going to be dead anyway, but he wasn’t going to kill you.

You noticed what was happening, even with Ghostface's back turned to you. You slowly crept your way towards them, until you could see Ian's face again.

His eyes were wide as plates and his skin looked tight as the killer pushed down on his throat. Ian's eyes snapped to you, making Billy turn his head a little to see you in his peripheral vision. You could tell by the look in Ian's eyes that he wanted your help.

Tough shit.

You slowly walked around the two, Ian was convinced you were gonna help him, beginning to reach for the mask again, fingers brushing the mouth, trying to find a grip. You kneeled, grabbing Ian's arms, pinning him down. Your gazed flickered towards the mask killer, to find he was already looking in your direction.

You decided to flash him a smile. Though you couldn't see behind that mask, Billy had the same expression.

You lowered your body down, until your mouth was leveled with Ian's ear. He was trying to fight against you, but he had no more strength. He was done for.

"See you in hell, fat shit." You spoke into his ear.

Gargles could only be heard, and the hockey game playing on the tv was basically non existent. The life Ian once had, was now gone. You slowly stood up, ghostface doing the same. You both looked at his lifeless body.

“I don’t know whether I should say thank you, or start running.” You said, letting out a laugh. It hurt like hell to speak. Your eyes moved to the masked killer and once again, he was already looking at you.

You both stared at each other for a few seconds, before he took a step closer to you. You didn’t back up, and for some reason you didn’t feel afraid. Billy reached out his hand, lightly touching your throat.

You weirdly didn’t mind the feeling, you weren’t scared of his touch, in fact, it was very gentle.

His hand trailed up, cupping the cheek that had been slapped. His thumb lightly rubbed your cheek and you couldn’t help but sigh.

“Thank you.” You told him, but he didn’t say anything. You knew he couldn’t speak, he wasn’t gonna let you find out who he was. If you recognized the voice or didn’t there was still a chance.

A car pulling up into the driveway made you and Billy snap your attention to the front of the house. He looked at you once again, seeing the fear in your eyes. He had to help you out some more, and you couldn’t be awake for it to work.

“I’m sorry.” Billy lowly mumbled, before knocking you unconscious.

[willowfolksong]

The brothers and the famous singer

Bonten!Manjiro Sano "Mikey"

🎼No one talls about it, and no one comments on it either, but they all know it: you're Manjiro Sano's girl. So of course there's extra security on your concerts. Of course you have more bodyguards than any other celebrities.

🎼Mikey can be extremely overprotective of you, but at the same time, it's sometimes hard for him to realize when you're having trouble dealing with everything that comes with being famous.

🎼 You feel that deep down, it's because either of you want to burden the other. Even if sometimes it seems like the opposite. And so you throw yourself in to helping each other the only way you can: him being over protective and jealous; you pampering him and taking care of him, since you're the only he lets close enough to see him break.

🎼He likes your voice. He has liked it since you were in high school— when your dreams of being famous were still only that, dreams, and he recorded you singing without you noticing.

🎼And so when he can't sleep, or when he's feeling too restless, he likes to put his head on your lap, while you card your hands through his hair and sing some lullabies for him.

🎼 Those moments between you and him, are the only good thing that remains for him. His men have learned not to disturb the two of you when he's in need of you, because the few that have walked in on the two of you having a private moment, have ended up regretting it forever.

"Sing to me" he asks you, eyes closed, and you want to keep him like that forever. In your arms. At peace, and away from everything.

"Anything?"

When he opens his eyes to look at you, there's nothing but your own reflection in the black void. You trace the bags under his eyes, the shape of his lip, and the side of his face near his ear. He regards you with an unreadable expresion.

"I just want to hear your voice"

"Oh"

He closes his eyes again, and his hand finds yours on the bed "Its the only thing for me"

He doesn't tells you what, but you feel like you know.

Izana Kurokawa

🎼 The reporter that made you cry when you were exiting your concert, after making some inappropriate questions about your latest album release and your private life, is found death the next day.

🎼You know Izana did it. You don't even need to ask him. It's been a long time since you learned that he forgot the most basic ways of showing love. This is his loving now: bloody and violent.

🎼 He's insanely jealous, and most of the times ends up lashing at you out of spite. He hates when people look too much at you, he hates when you're with your friends, and fans, and giving interviews. He digs his nails on his skin until blood pours out when he sees you singing for thousands of people. He wants to lock you up. He doesn't wants anyone to see you but him.

🎼 Only when you don't respond to his taunting texts, when you don't come around, when you ignore him for far too long because the pression of it all, combined with the stress and the sadness that come from fighting him, it's simply too much for you, does Izana genuinely worries.

🎼 He's there in a flash, completely and utterly terrified of losing you. He cannot. You're the only good thing on his life. His only equal. He's alone without you, the rest are nothing but dirt underneath him.

🎼 That's when he will slide under the covers of your bed with you, where you hide when you want to escape from everything, and hug you from behind, burying his face on your hair.

"Don't do this" he fervently whispers in your ear, his hold on you so tight that you have trouble breathing "Don't do this, don't do this, don't do this, don't do this"

"Izana..."

"You cannot leave me" he growls, and you feel his tears sliding down the base of your neck "There's no life without me and you"

Shinichiro Sano

🎼He's incredibly supportive of you, even when you're nothing but a mess, and everything becomes too much. Shinichiro knows you better than anyone, probably something that has to do with being high school sweethearts. And so there's no one you would rather be with in your darkest times.

🎼 You always go straight from a concert to his shop, and he always panicks about getting grease or dirt on your fancy clothes, but you don't mind. You really don't. It's him and his store and another prove that he's yours and your his. The one shirt he did stained, you never washed it. You have it in one of your drawers, for when you're feeling particularly bad.

🎼He hears everything you say, and allows you to vent with him. Shinichiro doesn't tells you, but he soons starts saving up some money from the shop. You've complained about stardom and the burdens of being famous for a long time, and he's watched you struggle with your career so much, that the only thing he wants to do is to keep you safe, and give you the peace you deserve.

🎼 So from every motorbike he fixes and sells, from every little business he manages to complete— he puts some money aside for the two of you. Maybe you two can move to a small apartment together. Maybe he can support you until you find something else to do, something that doesn't wrecks your nerves.

🎼 In the meantime, he'll wait for you after every one of your concerts, to take you for a ride around the city. Just the two of you. No one else. And he knows that in those moments you can be yourself fully.

"Are you asleep?" he asks, turning slightly towards you.

You shake your head, your eyes gazing up at the red light "No"

"It's dangerous if you do, so don't" he warns, but there's no bite in his voice, and he squeezes your hand when you yawn.

"I won't. After all this years riding with you, I think I know how to keep myself safe on a bike"

"It's been so many years, yeah"

"And I wouldn't want it any other way" you whisper, and he smiles and tries to bring you even more closer to his back.

He just wants to drive away, and away. Your words make him one to take off with you and dissapear.

"Me neither. This bike, you and me. That's all"

🧣 RED Love Story Collection

Part XXI - Next is Sad Beautiful Tragic