#ah yes.... criminal and judges.

[golden-phoenixx]

WAR IS OVERRRRR I GOT XUEYI WOOOOOO

I've wanted her ever since..god I don't even know. But the moment I saw her design I was like oh yeah. That One. I like that one. Funny thing is I was actually more excited about getting her than Blade (he was guaranteed, so it was more a matter of when I got him as opposed to if I got him).

This game is so funny I'm like "this is great" (points to Seele) "but i LIKE this" (points to Qingque and Xueyi)

[thepartyresponsible]

prompt fill! someone asked for jason todd and truth serum. this was also supposed to fill the request for "who did this to you?" with phil/jason, but i didn't make it to "who did this to you?" part. sorry! i'm trying to keep these under 1k.

anyway, this one's a bit bleak, but educational. here, jason learns an important life lesson: if you go undercover as a criminal, sometimes people believe you. and phil learns to reorder his interrogation questions.

warnings for drugging people without their consent. the drug in question is a fictional truth serum.

- - -

Using this particular drug on a nonconsenting person is a crime in most of the world. A recent amendment to the Geneva Convention marked its use on prisoners of war as a war crime. There’s a blanket ban on its production and use in the European Union. In the United States, administration by law enforcement personnel was ruled a violation of the Fifth and Eighth Amendments.

But SHIELD is not at war. Nor is it a law enforcement agency. And Phil Coulson is not in territory controlled by the United States or the European Union. The man in SHIELD custody undoubtedly has rights of some kind, but the extent of those rights – and who might be obligated to protect them – is currently unknown.

“It’s messy,” he says, to Fury.

“It’s a mess,” Fury replies. “Clean it up.”

- - -

He’s younger than Phil expected. But he has no right to judge anyone for sending their young to die. After all, he looks older than Natasha, possibly older than Clint.

And Natasha and Clint might be dead. In some ways, SHIELD’s no better.

“Your name, please,” Phil says.

“Jason,” the man says, a slow, sleepy mumble, and then his eyes open, and the panic hits.

Phil’s grown familiar with panic. He’s seen it in civilians and soldiers, in diplomats and dictators. He’s seen it every time he’s encountered this drug.

When it was first developed, early adopters trotted out the old lie: if you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear. But everyone has something to hide. Everyone has a secret they would swallow their own tongue to protect, and here’s a substance that takes that choice away, a wonder drug that retains awareness while negating will. A life-saving torture device.

“Fuck you,” the man says, which is far more spirit than most manage.

“Jason,” Phil says, “my agents are missing.”

“Fuck you,” Jason says, again. “That’s what happens.” He’s double-blinking, struggling to focus. Phil’s done this six times. No one's ever managed this level of control. Usually, they’re drooling by now, spilling secrets and saliva into the collar of their shirts.

Something’s wrong.

“You’ll have to excuse me,” Phil says. “We must have miscalculated your dosage.”

- - -

Medical reports back half an hour later. There was no miscalculation. The man has a tolerance they assure him should not be possible.

“We gave him a second dose. He should be amenable now,” the doctor says. “If he doesn’t stop breathing.”

Amenable, Phil thinks. He explores the hollow inside him where the horror should’ve been. It’s a terrible thing they’re doing. He knows that.

But his agents are missing.

“Thank you,” he says. And he goes back to work.

- - -

“You know,” Jason tells him, glassy-eyed, barely looking Phil’s direction, “if you ask the wrong questions, I have to kill you."

It’s an interesting threat from a man who cannot lie.

“And what are you afraid you’ll tell me?” Phil asks.

“Identities,” he answers, chest rising slower than a sleeper’s.

“Ah,” Phil says. “Yes, we’ll get to that.”

“Batman,” he adds, unexpectedly. “Nightwing.” He swallows, clumsily. When he breathes in, he chokes. Phil watches him almost drown for a moment and then he reaches across the table and tugs Jason’s head forward so he can breathe.

He barely has the coordination to breathe, but the contact makes him flinch hard enough to shake the table. Phil wonders who made a creature like him.

“Who do you work for?” he asks.

“Nobody.” And then, almost smiling, voice dropping into a guttural growl, “Justice.”

Which could be good news. Killers with a mission are predictable, once you understand their cause. “And who decides justice? Who gives you orders?”

“Nobody.”

Interesting. Most freelancers don’t work at this level, and the ones who do should have extensive SHIELD files. “Who’s been signing your checks lately?”

“Checks,” Jason says, and laughs. “Fucking checks.”

He’s been thoroughly dosed with a drug designed to make him highly suggestible and meekly compliant. Phil’s starting to understand why capturing him was such a costly undertaking.

“Whose money is in your accounts right now?”

Jason makes a noise, some gusty grumble of complaint, and then lists off a dozen or so of the very worst people alive. The most interesting names are the ones Phil doesn’t recognize, but he’ll have to get to those later. The window is short; his time is running out.

A single dose is risky. Some people never fully recover their independence. They’re rendered permanently docile, suffering from a kind of chemical lobotomy that good people across the globe have outlawed. A second dose doubles the odds of permanent damage. After the third, some people won't even breathe without orders.

They’ve given him two already.

“These people who’ve been paying you,” Phil says, “which of them is paying you right now?”

Jason sighs. “Nobody pays me. I stole that money.”

“You---” Phil pauses, looks at his notes. He re-reads the names, marvels at the insanity of stealing from any of them. “You stole from those people?”

“Stole from ‘em,” he says, “killed ‘em. Well, killed some. Gonna kill the others. It’s, you know. A to-do list. I’ve been busy.”

Phil wonders if he’s been wasting his time, if he’s drugged a delusional man. “You don’t steal from people like that before you kill them.”

Jason tilts his head so he can look up him, furrows his brow in something that is almost a coherent expression of disdain. “You never have any fun, huh?”

Phil might be dealing with someone far more dangerous than he’d predicted. “You do this for fun?”

“Yeah,” Jason says. “And for justice.”

Justice, right. Of course. “And who taught you about justice?”

“My dad,” Jason says.

Which is good. Which might be helpful. Truth has its uses, but, in Phil’s experience, leverage gets more accomplished.

“And who,” Phil says, “is your father?”

Jason’s eyes track his direction but don’t quite land. His mouth closes and then opens again. “Batman,” he says.

“Oh,” Phil says. “Shit.”

[angel-of-the-moons]

Eccentricities

Yandere!Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, DDDNE, Yandere themes, mental manipulation, obsessive behavior, allusions to violence, blackmail, angst, masturbation, Tyler Stone is also a warning lmao

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Yeah, after a million years, it is me! I'm sorry it's been so slow to update, y'all; things have been... *A lot*. Seems like every time I get a one-up something else happens, like my dad being in and out of the hospital for example.... As I stated in my previous post, this story won't be continuing for much longer!

Part 3

Taglist: @vineberries9 @irmiki @autismsupermusicalassassin @obi-mom-kenobi @rin-matsuoka345-blog @loosecan @6thhokageswife @selarus @heyohalie @sapphire-and-ruby @night-spectrum @famouscattale @thespaceinbetweennothing @lazy-idate @toshimoshiko @saharadesertaj @flaps200 @amelialysm @fried-milkfish @zaunsin @darksidescorner @renareyouhere @vide0-vamp @reverieblondie @bunnibitez @kaqua @peterbparkersburger @tojishugetiddies @aisyakirmann @itslariette0 @xxeclipze @oharasfilipinawife @amber-content @ixanne2006 @miguels-aranita @scaleniusrm @stopxplease @blueapplesiren @ruexvn @jadeloverxd @theitchbbbb @realifezompire

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Pt. 4

You had gotten so used to the quiet and privacy of Miguel's mansion that you weren't entirely sure how to handle when the infamous Tyler Stone dropped by for a visit. You certainly didn't enjoy the energy the man put off, nor the looks he would send your way as you "entertained" him until Miguel arrived home; having sent word to Lyla that he arrived.

You noticed that even Lyla seemed uncomfortable with Tyler's presence, her holographic avatar was actually fidgeting when you looked at her. Whatever went on between Miguel and Tyler must not have been very good, judging by how perturbed Lyla was with the older man.

"So... You're the little mouse that my boy Mike has hired, eh?" Tyler grinned, swirling the wine in his glass around as he watched you wipe down and clean the bar. You were well aware of his eyes tracing the entire shape of your ass as you kept your back turned to him.

Yes, having him leer at you wasn't enjoyable... But you preferred it if he looked at your ass instead of your chest or face. Something about that man's gaze made you very uncomfortable; it wasn't at all like with Miguel. You felt safe with him... Even if sometimes he came home from work with the energy of a man ready to catch a criminal charge. You had chalked it all up to the stress of running Alchemax; and now, having his former boss just show up out of the blue while he was gone...

How the hell did Tyler Stone even get in? You assumed only you and Miguel had the passkey to get in. So, how--

Tyler grinned once again, tapping the rim of his glass with one of the gaudy rings on his fingers, catching your attention once again. "Well, sweet-cheeks?"

You grit your teeth and turn, giving him your best sweet smile, "Ah! Right, yes, sir. I'm Miguel's housekeeper."

"And a damn fine bartender..." Tyler hummed, downing the rest of his wine in one swift gulp, licking his lips of the excess as he eyes you up and down once again. "In fact, I'm thinkin' about snatching you out from under my boy... What do you say? Your job will come with all the perks I'm sure Mike holds from ya... A nice fat check..."

His hands constantly groping you...

Your shoulders stiffened, his offer making your blood curdle; "I--"

"She's off-limits, Stone." Miguel's deep voice rang out from the threshold.

You sighed with relief, looking over at him, holding back a shocked gasp. Miguel looked... Disheveled. His face was sweaty, chocolate locks stringing around his forehead, droplets of sweat rolling down his sculpted cheeks.

He straightened his posture as he stalked towards the bar, casting you a soft look before focusing his attention squarely on Tyler, the look in his eyes from behind his red lenses just exuded one word: murder. You almost swore Miguel was about to reach out to snap his neck, until Tyler clasped Miguel's larger hand in his, shaking it with a laugh.

"Ah, don't be so serious, Mike." Tyler laughed like Miguel wasn't currently staring daggers through his skull. "I was just proposing a business deal with your lovely little maid, here!"

"You wouldn't be trying to poach my own employee from me, would you, Stone?" Miguel asked, his voice relaxing to a more soft pitch; his body language still tense but not so aggressive. You could tell there was some definite bad blood between the two men.

Your fingers fiddled nervously with each other at the obviously thick tension in the air, "Miguel..."

"Ah, don't worry, querida." Miguel assured you with a smile, his gaze softening once it landed on you. "Tyler and I need to have a private discussion. Go ahead and take the rest of the day off..."

You nod, swallowing hard. Something was off, but you weren't willing to risk pissing Miguel off in any way, despite how gentle he seemed with you, even in the face of the former CEO of Alchemax. You quickly placed your cleaning supplies in the cabinet and scurried out of the room, closing the doors behind you.

Tyler didn't fail to notice how Miguel tracked your movements from the corners of his eyes as you left, and a shark-like smirk made his lips quirk dangerously. "Oh, now I see why you're not so keen to let me take her from you."

Miguel scowled at the older man, "Why the hell are you here, Stone? Don't bullshit me."

Tyler pressed his hand over his own heart, feigning innocence. "Why, Mike! I would never bullshit you, my boy... Wouldn't dream of it, in fact."

Miguel glowered, his temper already short from dealing with a troublesome Kraven variant that wrought havoc in another universe, plus an "incident" in one of the labs at Alchemax. Tyler's sudden manifestation was testing his patience.

Oh, he had so looked forward to coming home, having a nightly drink with you... maybe work some aggression off. Maybe he could have convinced you to help...

But now, that little fantasy faded in the light that was his sperm donor's annoying fucking mile-long smile. That stupid fucking face that reminded him so much of his own, sometimes he couldn't stand to look in the mirror.

"Don't play coy. Tell me why you're here."

Tyler raised his thick brows, his forehead creasing from the slight wrinkles, there. "Mike--"

"Miguel." The tall man hissed.

"Mike." Tyler corrected, pouring himself another glass of wine. "I've heard you've been a little distracted, lately. A little... scatter-brained. So unlike you. I came to see what was bothering my boy in his personal time--"

"I'm not your fucking child, cabrón." Miguel snarled, breaching Tyler's personal space and standing almost nose-to-nose, "Now stop. Fucking. Pontificating."

He sighed deeply, frowning softly at Miguel's "mood". Oh, how he hated when he got like this. Too uppity for his own good, too ambitious. And after what happened between them... rather dangerous.

Oh, if he only knew how dangerous he was...

"Fine. I checked your financials and saw you had arranged a payroll to a rather cute houseworker." Tyler peered at Miguel almost boredly over the rim of his glass. "As well as some purchases for very small cameras, a number of which happen to be waterproof..."

Miguel felt the hair bristle on the back of his neck. Tyler had.... He had implanted a bypass-shunt program into his personal files? Without Lyla picking up on it? How the fuck did he manage that?

He must have hired someone to do it. He had to have hired someone to do it!

His fists clenched and his jaw tightened microscopically; but Tyler seemed to pick up on it anyway as he casually sipped his wine.

"Oh yes, I've been keeping an eye on you. Can't let my most promising progeny be left to his own devices for very long, now can I?"

"You--"

"How often do you spy on the girl, hm? I imagine watching her undress is rather titillating." He smirked, "She has a very nice body... Almost wasted just being looked at..."

Miguel grabbed Tyler by the collar of his 10,000-credit suit, bunching his fists and lifting him off the stool, sending some of the wine splashing from the glass and onto the bar top; snarling Miguel spits at him. "You stay the fuck away from her, you hear me, Tyler? If you so much as lay a pinky on her, I will--"

Tyler laughed, completely unfazed by Miguel's aggression. "Careful, now, Mike... Wouldn't want some evidence of your little Rapture addiction slipping out and making its way to your pretty little doll, no?"

Miguel snorted, his nostrils flaring as his face heated up. He dropped Tyler back in the stool, turning to stomp away, his fists balled and chest heaving to control his rage, just barely controlling himself enough to avoid burying his talons in the meat of his palms.

Tyler sighed, downing some more of his glass, "We wouldn't want the public finding out that the great Miguel O'Hara was a junkie, now do we?"

His head was abuzz; adrenaline pumping so hard through his veins, he could feel that primal urge to just reach out and snap Tyler's neck. Hiding or disposing of the body would be easy enough, concealing any other evidence would also be a snap. Unfortunately, if anybody knew he was coming over to Miguel's...

Fuck. Tyler also probably had some kind of implant to contact emergency services in the event his heart stops or he's severely injured. Then, Miguel would obvious be a shoe-in for a brand new jumpsuit; not one of his own design.

The multiverse would suffer, another Spider-Man demonized by the public for murdering a man who outwardly appeared somewhat decent...

Then, it felt like a tension wire snapped; realization dawned on Miguel as clear as a sunny summer day.

Tyler was baiting him. He wanted him to snap.

He wouldn't give in to his cheap taunts.

Miguel forced his body to relax, reaching up to slick back a stray strand of hair, and turns to give Tyler a cool smile, "Well... if that were to happen... I would have to tell them where the Rapture came from. How you used it to control me, manipulate me, threaten to kill me."

Miguel felt sick glee at how Tyler's smile instantly fell, and the Hispanic man tipped his head to the side, his smile eerily calm.

"Oh... You thought I didn't have evidence of that? Now, imagine how the public will react when news of me being your illegitimate son--the result of a disgusting affair--gets out?"

"You--you wouldn't." Tyler spat, throwing the wineglass to the ground and shattering it, the red liquid running out to pool around it, soaking into the grout in-between the tiles like a thin, watery pool of blood.

"Your mother would be--"

"I don't give a fuck what Connie deals with. She's had her dose of karma a long time coming... and it's honestly only fitting that I be the one to deliver it." Miguel sneered, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

Tyler swallowed, glaring up at his own flesh and blood like it was Hercules fighting the lion. Only... it was up to anyone's guess who would emerge the victor of this bout.

But... He knew that Miguel was much larger, much stronger, faster--younger...

It was an uphill battle and he currently had a bullet wound to his knee.

So, Tyler Stone relented in the seething rage that was Miguel O'Hara. He adjusted his coat from where Miguel has mussed it before, wiping up some of the wine on the counter with his handkerchief before tossing it to the floor indignantly.

"Very well, Mike... I'll leave your little toy alone. But... do be careful enough to take care of your toys in the future. Don't want to forget what happened to your last girlfriend..."

That slight sting didn't hurt as much as he'd hoped, Miguel merely jerking his head to the side, his lip curled in an irritated snarl. "Get out of my house."

As the smaller man began to walk briskly out, he gave Miguel a smirk over his shoulder; "Y'know, my boy... some stuff really is genetic. You don't realize just how much like me you really are."

Miguel scoffed, his body finally relaxing as he turned to clean another one of Tyler Stone's messes, wiping the bar you meticulously cleaned for him clean, tossing the piece of cloth into the nearby trash bin, and turning on the little disc-shaped cleaning bot to clean up the shattered glass and suck up the wine.

"Lyla." Miguel sighed as he took off his sunglasses, his hand shaking as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Hey, boss man." She greeted hesitantly. "Whaddya need?"

"Find out how Tyler got into the system. How he got past you. I'm going to upgrade your code later with stronger firewalls, too." He said, staring at her flickering avatar.

"Yeah, believe me... I don't like him getting past me. It feels... gross. Violating." She shuddered.

Despite changing her programming to see the logic in his words by default, Miguel was emotionally attached to Lyla. For a long time, she was his only true friend. She was there for him after the Rapture incident...

And to now watch as Tyler had essentially brute-forced his own program onto Lyla felt akin to some form of assault on her; one of his greatest creations to date.

But... the shreds of his conscience began to thread together as he remembered you. The cameras, the stalking, having Lyla be hypocritical and spying on your personal business...

"You... You know everything I do is to keep her safe--both of you safe, right, Lyla?" He asked softly, staring down at the little robot as it chirped as its cleaning cycle was finished, returning to its charging dock.

"Well, yeah.... I saw the crime reports... saw how that guy probably would have killed her... and... well." She shoved her hands in her pockets and looked up at him, a brow quirking upwards. "I mean... the cameras are just as good for safety, right? Like how people put baby monitors in their kid's room, or to spy on the nanny. Keeps her from getting hurt even where she should be safe..."

Miguel smiled warmly at her. Yeah... she was programmed to see his logic, but... hearing it made him feel much better.

"Thank you, Lyla. Let me know if anything goes wrong with her personal stuff, alright? I want to make sure Tyler isn't spying on her, too." He turned to begin leaving the room, "I'm going to work this adrenaline off. Make sure my Pequeña Ave is relaxing like I told her to, hm? When you're not busy sorting through the bullshit Tyler pulled, that is."

"Can do, boss!" Lyla chirped happily, giving him a little salute. "Have fun gettin' those reps in!"

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You couldn't find Miguel in his office, the lounge, his bedroom, the bar, at the pool... the only other place you could think of was his small gym.

He didn't seem to have had a good day at work, and Tyler's presence only seemed to worsen it when he came home. You wondered what exactly happened between them to make their relationship so hostile in the first place...

But, you shoved that curiosity to the side. You decided to try and give Miguel a little pick-me-up. You remembered the story he told you of he and his little brother sneaking off to enjoy their snack of mango and chili salt.

You cut the mango in half, pulled the large seed pod out of the middle, and halfway sliced the halves into little cubes; and finally sprinkled on the chili salt. Afterwards, you placed the snack on a tray with a nice, ice-cold bottle of his favorite sports drink. If he was in the gym, he would definitely need to replenish some electrolytes after working out.

As you walked down the hall, you noticed Lyla's avatar following you. "Hey, Mamacita." She said. "I'd steer clear of the boss. Mr Stone-head reeeeeeeally made him mad."

You wiggled the tray a bit and gave her a smile, "That's why I'm bringing him this, Lyla. Snacks do wonders for mood improvement!"

She tilted her head, taking a moment to respond. "Oh. Right. Good idea, actually..."

You noticed her seemingly distracted nature today, which was almost unheard of for the AI. "You ok?"

"Yeah, going through my files before Miguel puts in a new update for me tonight. Gonna get me a niiiiice makeover, program-wise." She grinned, wiggling her eyebrows at you. "I'll be pretty indisposed however; one, from going through my millions of lines of code, and two; he's gotta put me out while he works on me."

You chuckled, "Ah, well I'll leave you to that, then. Hope the update goes well."

Lyla gives you a snarky salute before her avatar disappears as you near the gym. As you reached the arching threshold--no door, you noticed some time ago; he apparently liked a bit of an open floor plan when it came to that--you could hear the sounds of him grunting, huffing, and swearing. It sounded like he was working hard.

You round the bend and open your mouth to announce yourself--until you see why Miguel was really making those sounds.

His back was to you, shirt abandoned on the floor by the dumbbells. He sat in his boxers, pants discarded the same way his shirt had been in favor of working out almost entirely naked.

Or, well.... maybe it started with him working out--until he went to the weight bench and it devolved into something else entirely.

The mirrors lining the opposite wall gave you a perfect view of him despite him sitting with his back to you. His boxers were shoved hastily down to his thick thighs, leaning on one hand as his other one slowly stroked up and down his rigid, leaking cock. Miguel's head was tipped back, his eyes closed in frustrated pleasure, sweat making his body shine as though he had almost appeared oiled-up. His usually well-kept hair was messy, tacking to his forehead and scalp with thick layers of sweat.

The sight immediately sent a throb down to your core; heat roiling and pooling low in your belly and had you biting your lip in equal parts mortification, shame, and arousal.

He grunted, grinding his teeth as he tipped his head down again. You quietly jumped back out of sight as he looked down and opened his eyes, growling as his hand circled the head of his dick before twisting and stroking back down.

"Fuuuuuuck." You heard him sigh. "That's it, bebita... fuck, I'm close."

Your heart hammered in your chest as you imagined who he could possibly be picturing in his mind's eye; what dream woman he probably had at his feet, between his legs, worshipping the thick shaft he stroked in his hand

You pinched your thighs together, feeling your arousal already begin to soak through your panties, threatening to breach the fabric of your pants. Your face heated up, flushing with color as the sounds of him pleasuring himself assaulted your ears in the all-too quiet house. Hell, it felt like he was being so loud, his sounds of self-pleasure drowned out the blood rushing in your ears.

You couldn't contain your curiosity, and peek around the corner again. Miguel had his eyes closed again, a blissful crease prominent on his brow as he bucked his hips in time with his hand.

You watched as he snagged his plush bottom lip between his teeth, his face twitching as his hand jerked faster, the thick precum dripping down his cock and coating his fingers, assisting in the glide as he fucked his own hand, his release imminent.

You squeezed your legs together even tighter, taking care not to jostle the tray in your hands and not make any noise that would give you away.

This was... wrong. You should turn around, and leave your treat to him in the kitchen for him to find on his own. You should...

You swallowed the gasp that wanted to come from you as he muttered something to himself, something you couldn't quite make out--before the thick ropes of his cum spurted from the tip of his cock.

Continuing to stroke and pull, to lengthen his orgasm as long as possible; to ride the high further, Miguel rolled his head back with a gutteral moan, his cum splattering on the floor mats below him, his legs trembling.

As he began to even his breathing out, you turned and as quickly and quietly as possibly rushed back down the hall to avoid being caught--and maybe attend to the pressing matter that stained your panties.

Miguel however--

Miguel knew you were there. He could smell your perfume as you made your way down the hall, hear your soft footsteps and conversation with Lyla.

He grinned as he looked into the mirror, his eye tracking where you had once been peeping in on him. He could smell you the moment you got wet; hear the way your heart thudded in your chest as you spied on him.

He had been edging himself; not intentionally of course, but with how frustrated and angry he was, Miguel had been dancing on the edge of a climax for most of the time. Until he caught your scent, the smell of your wet little cunt filling his senses and making his mind buzz with his budding orgasm before driving him over that peak.

He wondered what you thought of the sight. You were aroused, certainly. You very much liked what you saw. He almost hoped you would walk in, and offer your own soft, sweet little hands to stroke him to relief.

But ah, you were a polite girl. Scurrying away like a frightened little mouse before getting caught and possibly pissing him off.

Miguel heaved a heavy sigh as he grabbed his sweat rag from beside him, wiping at the mess he made of himself. Despite the circumstances, he couldn't help but smile.

Maybe getting into your head was going to be easier than he anticipated.

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Part 5: I have no idea Imma be real with y'all

[pirateprincessblog]

𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐄

( 𝟎.𝟏 ) 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲.

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨:

normal is good. it's safe. it isn't risky. and yet, normal is boring. normal job, normal family, normal relationship. makes you yawn just while reading, doesn't it? escaping it can cost a fortune, even if it is for a short, fun amount of time. when it gets bad, you don't get to regret. you don't get to complain. you don't get to cry. you don't get to go back. you wanted it. now bear the losses of your own decisions. you'll wish for things to get boring again. you'll wish to never feel an ounce of excitement again. you'll wish to be wrapped in your safety bubble, with your safe little family, safe little job, and safe little partner. and it just won't come.

!𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬! 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞: 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: park seonghwa x oc (alice dawson) x jung wooyoung 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.4k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: dilf!hwa, collegestudent!wooyoung, love triangle, dilf trope, eventual smut, angst, fluff 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: yet to come

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions of illness, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of domestic violence, MINORS DNI (18+) 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: this series will be around 10-15 chapters :) please don't hesitate to leave feedback! thank you for reading <33 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

were you ever afraid of thinking about something risky while surrounded by people?

if yes, alice knows exactly how you feel. behind the dusty wooden counter, she hides a book. her eyes abandon the words she has read a dozen times this year already, checking if anyone is giving her weird looks. her thoughts are a loud mess, and she fears that one of those hard-working students might secretly have super hearing powers and is judging her right now. but when she notices no side eyes, her gaze drops on the worn-off pages again. this book set cost her a fortune, and it already looks like it has been through at least two major historical events. heaven forbid that her mother knows how much money she spent on that.

her heart beats faster with each word she reads, fingers excitedly flipping the pages, even though she knows all the plot twists, all the foreshadowing, a few little plot holes that only a small number of people have noticed. she wishes she could read it all for the first time again. the storyline, the characters, the villains, the twists, the tension, the steam. alice's favourite part in all the books. the steamy pages, written by her favourite author, making her sigh and roll in bed late at night as she reread them. sleepless nights spent with her eyes unfocusing and blurring out the words, her thoughts drifting away from the storyline and creating one of her own, using the very same characters. she would sit like that, fantasising, until a sound from the street would bring her back to the original story.

last night was similar, which is why she is barely keeping her eyes open while skimming over the room, checking for odd glares one more time. when she finds none, she continues daydreaming. the villain of the book has captured her heart, no matter the bad things he has done throughout the journey. she might just have a thing for evil, sassy, good-looking men. or she might have a thing for imaginary men with tongue skills.

"ah, your daily dose of porn, i see."

alice looks up, startled. she closes the book, throwing it in the already opened drawer and shuts it with a loud thud, making a few heads turn. the face standing above the counter chuckles, eyes turning into crescent moons as he does so.

"hush!"

"oh, relax. you have like three couples doing no-nos back there in the criminal section. your little mediocre book is nothing compared to them."

the girl furrows her eyebrows. her book wasn't mediocre. it was a masterpiece.

"what did you want?" she asks, annoyed with his teasing this early in the morning.

"i can't come and greet my favourite redhead in town?" the young man asks, his lips still in a teasing smile.

"not if you're going to be loud and disrupt. this is a library, not a bar."

"ha-ha. i forget just how witty my girlfriend is." he rolls his eyes. "luckily, you're pretty to make up for your lack of sense of humour."

"and your humour makes up for your lack of pretty." she tries to poke back, but it just doesn't sound right.

the young man laughs, sincerely, and rests his elbows on the wooden surface.

"you're cute when you try. you'd be even cuter if you were to join me in one of those horror sections. you know, to read. i love me some stephen king. i also love me some puss-"

"shut up, oh my god." alice hushes him, feeling her cheeks starting to burn from embarrassment.

"oh, come on. you haven't been over to my place in days. weeks even, i think."

"wooyoung," she exhales.

"yeah, sorry." the young man suddenly remembers, then scratches his neck from the little uncomfortable situation he has created. "how is your mom?"

"she has lost a lot of hair." alice says, eyes drifting towards the big library windows. "she has also lost a lot of weight. she still refuses to eat. she has already given up on herself."

wooyoung sighs, seeing his girlfriend show different emotions than last week. she has become numb to the whole situation. her mother has been sick for a very long time, and no amount of doctors, medicine, and persuading could convince her mother to start taking care of herself when alice wasn't around. now, alice has given up. she is angry with her mother, and that doesn't allow her to feel sad or bad for her.

"want me to come with you next time you visit her?"

"that would be today."

"yes, sure. of course. just tell me when."

"i finish at two, when rae arrives. i'll wait for you by the car?"

"i'll be there as soon as my classes are over. promise." wooyoung smiles at her.

there's a brief moment of silence, giving space for both of them to think. alice's mind went from fantasising to worrying, and wooyoung hates that he reminded her of the situation and changed her mood.

"baby?" he calls.

she hums, still a little absent.

"you haven't kissed me today."

alice looks at her boyfriend, heart swelling with guilt. her face drops, and wooyoung's eyes widen seeing her saddened expression.

"i'm so sorry," she says, voice almost a whisper.

"oh, no, no! baby, i just- hey, it doesn't matter. i'm sorry, okay? you're going through something tough, and my behaviour isn't quite helping. i'm being a dick."

alice stands up, hands gently cupping her boyfriend's face. her eyes examine his face, taking in his pretty features. she didn't mean what she said earlier, and she knows that he knows too. she smiles softly at him, assuring him that everything is fine and there is no need to apologise.

"i love you." she whispers.

and just like that, wooyoung softens in her hands, lips melting into hers as he finally kisses her for the first time in three days. it has become hard to catch her since she started working, especially since she runs to the hospital whenever she gets a chance. other times, she prefers laying in bed with little to no lighting, doing nothing but laying down and thinking of a way out of what her life has become.

wooyoung wishes he could help her. but what can he do, when they both refuse his help? he now realises where alice's stubbornness comes from. he smiles into the kiss, thinking about her stubborn nature combined with her impatience. she is a little handful, but she is his handful. and he will hold her until his last breath.

༺═━─━────༺༻────━─━═༻

while people tend to hate hospitals, alice likes it. it brings her comfort, knowing that the people around her are in charge of saving lives. she often visited hospitals as a toddler, due to often sickness. she is very prone to colds, and wooyoung has found himself getting mad at her very often because she refuses to wear a jacket when needed.

"but my outfit won't be visible!" she'd complain.

"i don't care. your kidneys are more important than a crop top. and i can't have you with a runny nose again. you know you have a hard time breathing as it is, the cold only makes everything worse."

"you just know it all, don't you?" she'd say, annoyed, while her fingers work the zipper of wooyoung's jacket.

jung wooyoung doesn't have any plans for the future, other than hopefully marrying alice and creating a family with her. he is a college student, yes. but only because his parents forced him to. he doesn't know what he wants in his life. alice is smart. she also doesn't know, so she simply didn't go to college. smart decision. it is crazy expensive, and managing those costs and the costs of healing her mother would be a disaster.

"ms dawson?"

alice stands up, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

"dr clark, good day." she greets, smiling weakly.

"it certainly is a good one, ms dawson. your mother is finally showing improvement!"

alice stands still, not believing what she's hearing. wooyoung notices her lack of response, and gently takes her hand in his, hoping to shake her awake.

"what do you mean?" she asks.

"she ate everything she was offered today, and she took her medication. and yes, we checked under the bed and in the flower vase, there weren't any hidden pills."

"oh, well... that's great."

the sudden change in her mother's behaviour was suspicious to alice. still, she felt relieved. with a thankful smile and a nod towards the young dr clark, the girl took her usual path to room 257, her hand still held by wooyoung's bigger and warmer one. she pushes the door open, her eyes immediately falling on the bed in the corner of the room. out of four beds, only two were now occupied, meaning that the other two had gotten better and were probably at home with their families. it made alice's heart warm.

it made her heart even warmer when her gaze dropped on the woman in the last bed, her head hidden by what seemed like a beauty magazine. fresh flowers stood beside her bed, accompanied by a framed picture and what seemed like a jewellery box.

"mom?"

the woman drops her magazine in her lap, a smile so wide on her face that it made alice's cheeks hurt. god, she looks so different. it wasn't that long since alice's last visit, was it? the woman in the bed wore makeup, her grey hair braided, and a flower head band placed neatly on her head. her nails were painted a golden brown colour, resembling the autumn leaves that tapped on her window on windy days. she dared to say, her mother looked better than her.

"ally, my darling!" the woman calls, tucking the magazine under her pillow.

alice approaches the bed, sitting in the usual stool that was waiting for her under the elevated nightstand.

"eleanor," wooyoung greets, slightly bowing. "you look absolutely beautiful."

"oh, my, this boyfriend of yours. always a sweet-talker." the woman blushes, waving her hand at the young man. "you are so very lucky, baby, not a lot of boys your age are this sweet. let me tell you, just five minutes ago, amber's son came over, had a fight with her over their house and kicked her out! look, her suitcase is right there!"

"mom, please. can you be any more quiet?"

alice looks over at the other occupied bed, and truly, there stood a suitcase. luckily, the woman was sleeping, so she didn't hear her mother's little gossip party.

"oh, don't worry. the poor woman cried so much that she fell asleep from exhaustion."

silence swallowed the room for a while, eleanor fidgeting with the rings on her fingers. she knew alice had questions. and she dreaded that she had to answer them.

"these aren't the flowers i brought you last time."

"no... no they aren't." she trails, looking anywhere but at her daughter.

"so... whose are they?"

a mumble is heard, and alice raises an eyebrow at her. wooyoung catches a glimpse at the framed picture, but when he fails to recognize the people on it, he shifts his attention back to the woman. she looks at wooyoung, as if searching for a way out of the interrogation that is about to happen. but wooyoung sends her an apologetic smile, and rests his hands on alice's hair, moving it out of her face. he feels like she will need it. there is a reason why her mother is acting so nervous, and when alice is upset, she loves to have her hair played with.

"mom."

"hm? oh. right, the flowers. uh... they're from..."

"mom, cut the bullshit. i'm just curious. so what if a friend brought them over? you have a new crush in town? dr clark not cute anymore?"

"oh, no! dr clark is very cute. and very young. and he is married, sadly for me. no, these are from, uh..."

alice grows impatient, a frown already forming on her face. wooyoung senses her tense state, and gently drops his hand on her shoulder, massaging the knot below her neck. she sighs, and looks at him as a way of saying thank you. silent conversations were common between the two, and it just showed how well they read each other. how much they love each other.

wooyoung presses his lips to her temple, and gently caresses her back as her mother prepares to give an answer.

"so?"

"so what?" eleanor acts dumb, still hoping that alice will give up.

"mom. the flowers. the jewellery. the makeup. the nails. the picture."

the girl finally takes the framed picture. she recognizes her young mother, her bright ginger hair falling in waves on her shoulder, green irises almost invisible because of her big smile and closed eyes. the man, however, she does not recognize.

"from your father."

wooyoung halts his movements. alice sits still, her gaze not leaving the picture.

"what?"

"your father. he came every day since your last visit, and brought me all these flowers, made me the crown, even painted my nails-"

"i didn't know they let drug addicts inside hospitals."

wooyoung gulps, watching eleanor's jaw drop at her daughter's numbness to the new situation they have found themselves in.

"isn't that, like, very unsafe? for both parties?"

"you shut your mouth, right now. your father is a good man."

"he is not my father, and he is certainly not a good man."

the woman's face twists into one of anger, hands turning white as she grips the sheets she's covered with. "he is your god damn father, whether you like it or not."

"he is a scumbag. that's all he is. and, he is the reason you're here. isn't it? have you forgotten?"

"alice..." wooyoung tries, but stops when alice raises her hand as a sign to stop talking.

"didn't he throw you down the fucking stairs and smash your head through the window?"

"that was years ago, alice. you were barely four."

"and yet i remember."

"you're acting as if he killed me."

"he drugged you all the time! and you became an addict, just like him!"

the dark past resurfaces so easily, pulling both women under it's veil and swallowing them with grief. so many tears spilled, so many bruises earned, and so many cuts treated. alice was only three when it all begun, and she still wonders how it all escalated so quickly in a span of just three months. from only name calling and occasional yelling, to full fist and kick fights and screaming for help. only for her mother to go back to him, too afraid and in love to let go. and each morning the same. three months of alice finding herself in crossfire, earning new bruises every other day, and crying all night long.

she loved her mother, and she loved her father a little less every day. strangely enough, there used to be days when the house was as peaceful as it used to be before her father became what he became. she didn't know why, or how. all she knew was that she was grateful. and that whatever pills dad was slipping mom in her drinks and food were, they worked, and alice guarded them in the cupboard with her life. years later, she realized what the pills were. pills, powder, injections, you name them. by the time the monster left the house, the woman was already hooked. she craved more, and more, and didn't have any. who was at fault for that? alice.

alice was the first thing eleanor saw in the morning, and the last thing she saw in the evening. she was there, consistently needing attention, food, love. and eleanor was exhausted. she just wanted her happy pills. and what other way to express your frustration, than to punish a child who just doesn't shut the fuck up?

wooyoung presses a kiss on her head, in hopes of pulling her out of her memories. he knew that she was thinking of old times, of the man from the picture. and he knew that won't do good to her.

"what did he want?" she calmly asks, fidgeting with the frame. she wished for nothing more than to burn the picture, and throw it at the old house, letting it burn the pain away. if only it worked that way.

"why do you think he would want something?"

"mom."

eleanor sighs, in disbelief. or defeat. wooyoung can't tell yet. she looks around the room, trying to find the right words so she wouldn't further hurt her daughter. though the damage was already done, and wooyoung couldn't see how she could further worsen it. until she opened her mouth again.

"he asked for money."

"what?!"

"but look, i-it's just for a new place, so we can all be together again!"

"what?!?!"

alice stands up, head in her hands and legs carrying her hurriedly around the room. wooyoung plops down on the nearby empty bed, feeling his heart swelling at the sight of his loving girlfriend lose control over her emotions. but he knows better than to interfere. he just needs to let her do what she needs to do.

"alice, please. i just want a family. a proper family."

"well you sure as fuck aren't getting that from him! how much?"

"what?"

"how fucking much?!"

"all of it! god, just stop screaming at me!"

now the other woman was the one holding her head, while the younger one shot her head up wide-eyed.

"all... of it?"

"yes, yes! all of it! he wants to create a better future for us and you're acting like a fucking lunatic for no re-"

"you- you bitch."

a gasp escapes the young man's mouth, and he looks over to the woman in bed for her reaction. she grits her teeth, trying to keep her composure. wooyoung notices how red her eyes have become, and how glossy they look. she is trying her best not to let her tears spill, but the more she looks at alice, the less control she has. she watches as her daughter grabs the picture and smashes it on the floor. when alice grabs her shoulders and starts shaking her, screaming in her face, she loses it. big drops roll down her cheeks and neck, ruining the makeup she had so carefully put on.

wooyoung hated that he couldn't help. the best way of helping was to stay back and do nothing. no matter what he said, it would only light up the fire in one of them, if not both. so wooyoung settled for glancing over at the stranger in the other bed, giving her a nod as a sign that everything is okay and that she doesn't need to worry. he doesn't know if it managed to calm the woman or not, because he gets pulled into the mess by eleanor. she grabs his wrist, pulling him closer as if asking for help.

"wooyoung can't help you right now! let go of him!"

"wooyoung, please- please! i only wanted to make it better for us-" she hiccups through sobs, desperately clawing at wooyoung's hand.

alice yanks his hand out of hers, and when a loud slap echoes through the room, wooyoung decides it is time to finally step in. alice might get mad, hell, she might even slap him too, but he doesn't care.

"alice." he sternly says, grabbing her shoulders.

"no, we're not doing this! wooyoung, i am breaking my back every day, i am working overtime, running here making sure she eats and stops acting like a child, only for her to give away all my hard work for empty promises?! to who?! a man who doesn't even recognize me anymore?!"

she is furious. she sees red. no amount of comforting from wooyoung's side will make her calm down.

"take me home."

"are you sure-"

before wooyoung can finish, he can only catch a glimpse of her dark red locks bouncing as she rushes out of the door, slamming it shut after.

"wooyoung, please talk to her."

the man sighs, torn between the two women. he hates this. letting people down. but more than that, he hates letting his girlfriend down.

"i'm sorry, eleanor. there's nothing i can do."

he gently picks up the picture from the floor, careful with the cracked glass, and places it on the nightstand. he glances at the older woman one last time, before sighing and following his girlfriend's path.

[azes-silliness]

Duty Bound

Neuvillette x gn!reader, Neuvillette angst no comfort An : Neuvillette my husband came home~ [and I came too^_^] Summary: He remembered but didn’t know everything, really. And he quite hated that. Word count: 1406 Maturity rating: >18 [MINORS MAY READ :3]

Warnings: Angst, I guess a bit tiring to read, injustice, problems with the legal systems

RULES ARE MEANT TO BE BROKEN

:3

ITS ALMOST CHRISTMAS!!!

18

DAYS TILL CHRISTMAS!!!!🥳🥳🥳🥳💯💯💯💯💪💪💪💪😋😋😋💙💙💙💙💙💙💙 Can a judge be convicted? Can a criminal give order? Chaos is just the dark end of judgement. "There can be no order without 'it'"

What a bittersweet memory that was, filled with broken promises and shattered bonds. Neuvillette stared down at Fontaine below him, light illuminating the shape of every building under a crescent moon. The fountain of Lucine shimmered under the light, ripples in the water almost forming the silhouette of a human. Of you. No, what was he thinking? You hair was much messier than the one in the water. Your body was much taller. This-that wasn't you. Or maybe it was. Not that he'd now who you became, after all.

"Right, Neuvillette? Did I get that?" "...Yes." "Okay Mr., Geez. Am I ready to help you carry your burden of saving Fontaine now?" "...You always have been." "Not what you said last time." "Apologies." "Your so uptight! I was kidding. Did you really believe me!?" "No. But I do believe you'd be quite upset if I showed my knowledge of that." "Awww...aren't you sweet? So considerate and husband material!" "Don't tease me."

“Your lucky grumpy, stoic men are my type!”

“…Yes.”

“Your making this awkward!” -- Neuvillette walked along the streets of the Court of Fontaine as rain lightly drizzled around him. He didn't see the need for an umbrella, as usual, ignoring the mystified glances of the people around him. Young melusines waved at him was he walked by excitedly, greeting him with a warm smile. It truly made him happy that the melusines held him with such admiration in their eyes.

He waved back at the small creatures, the smallest of smiles gracing his lips. It reminded him of a child to their parents.

"Melusines are so cute, aren't they!?" "Indeed they are. True treasures of Fontaine." "Awww...look at their ears! Hey! Hey! Can I pet you even a little, pretty please~?" "Y/n-" "A-ah! Ofcourse you can Ms.!" "See Neuvi? Asking is better than taking the immediate 'no'." "I see. Though of course I know that since I asked you, mhmm?" "Yep! No connection though-AW! Your so soft! Your ears are so smooth too! Do you have skincare!?" "..." "No Ms. I'd be happy to help you with your morning routine someday though!" "Neuvillette, I think I love melusines almost as much as you!" "Hm. Perhaps-" "Perhaps we can think of them like our children now!?" "...if they allow it."

“Why wouldn’t they? I’d be a great mother!”

“…I have decide not to comment on that.”

-- Neuvillette sat alone. Paperwork stacked high on his table as he worked tirelessly, reading and signing documents of meager to high importance. In truth, he hadn't had a proper rest in months, but with the new uprising in cases, he had been more busy than usual. 'Scandalous! Lady Furina reported-" "The Duke of Meropide caught-" "The Iudex seen-" Rumours had gotten more fabricated recently. It was sad how Neuvillette hardly had any idea how to deal with managing the publics words. No, that was your job. Was. "Whaat!? Neuvillette! Neuvillette! Did you hear about-" "Y/n. Don't speak too loudly please." "Oh. Er-Right! Did you hear about the scandal!? That daughter of the famous actor fell in love with a thief!" "Really? How interesting. Love does have its ways." "I met her before! She seemed really refined and elegant. I was so surprised!" "Is there proof for this so-called scandal?" "Yep! I saw them!" "Hm. I see. Why is this so interesting to you?" "...Uhm...because it's news. Is there something uninteresting about it...?" "No. Not at all. Apologies, but I have some work to finish. Would you mind...?" "Ack! Sorry, my bad, I forgot your officially a judge and Iudex now haha…you must be busy!." -- Neuvillette was seated on his dining table, eating his normal dinner. He quietly took a drink of water, then passed it to the only other seat on the table. He was static for a few moments, letting his breaths echo through the silent room before taking the goblet away from the empty seat. “I shall drink, then.” He murmured to no one in particular.

It was lonely.

Neuvillette missed the days where you would sit across him, telling stories about your recently acquired gossip or ranting about a co-worker. Then his halls were filled with laughter and liveliness.

Not this all-consuming silence.

“Ooo! Ooo! Right! I remember! Do you recall that boring bitchass-“

“Language, y/n.”

“Ack! Sorry. As I was saying though! Remember the boring, emo, lame co-worker who thinks he’s the main character from one of those Yae publishing house books!?”

“Yes. You talk about him nearly daily.”

“Haha…I guess so…! Anyyywayz! Basically his girlfriend broke up with him and it was revealed he was an abuser! He used his money to pay for silence! And domestic abuse was the least of his crimes!”

“Hm? I have not heard of this. Do you know his name?”

“Uh… P….something. I don’t know.”

“Ah. I see.”

“…Is something bothering you Neuvillette…? You seem…distant.”

“Hm? No. Nothing.”

“Uh huh…girly, of your going through-“

“Do not refer to me like that, please.”

“Fiine. If you tell me whats wrong.”

“There is nothing wrong, y/n.”

-- Neuvillette sat on his seat in the courtroom, a man accused of the severe crime of murder layed down below him. The man yelled excuses and screamed in denial, claiming such unrealistic stories that Neuvilette couldn’t help but feel disgusted with this man’s audacity. “I have told you. You are guilty. There is no doubt. All the evidence-“

“You’re just biased! You just don’t believe I could be innocent so you don’t look at the evidence with a clear mind! Whatever ‘justice’ you judge it with it just pessimism!” The man screamed, resisting any attempts at restraining him. The man’s face was filled with desperation, either for the truth of for a lie.

“…I look at it fairly. I am the Iudex. I am not wrong.” Neuvillette replied coldly, looking down upon him apathetically. His eyes glimmered with a hint of tiredness and exasperation, clearly wanting this case to finish.

“If it was your lover you would have looked deeper! You’d have read it over twice! You’d have-“

“Do not bring her into this. I will punish you even harsher for any attempt to soil her memory.” He shot him down immediately, glaring. How dare this…this…

How dare is nobody.

How dare this criminal.

His jaw tightened as he had to mentally restrain himself to give a life sentence. This man deserved it for his disrespect though. Tsk…

Must he constantly deal with these desecraters? You were a special case to him.

And it didn’t matter anyway how much he reread and went over the case.

It didn’t change anything how much he had desperately scoured for evidence to your innocence.

You were declared guilty in the end, despite his efforts.

It didn’t matter.

Just like this idiotic man’s case.

The man was obviously intimidated by the sudden yet expected show of defensiveness. “The justice system is flawed, Neuvillette!” He yelled, raising his voice as he jerked away from the guards restraining him. They were obviously already struggling with his continued resistance. Neuvillette decided it wise to get this over with already.

“…You are loud.” Neuvillette turned to the audience infront of him, glaring authoritatively, “This is fruitless. The accused is guilty. The punishment will be as is-40 years in the fortress of Meropide.” The crowd cheered, not one protesting against the rule of the judge. The man was forcibly dragged away by the guards, his pleas and curses drowned by the roaring voices filling the court.

But Neuvillette did look into it.

He really did.

Perhaps he was just rattled by the fact you were brought up by the accused.

Though the truth was…

The man was innocent.

Just like you.

Yet no one believed him.

Just like you.

Not even Neuvillette saw the truth.

So now the man who’s name he didn’t bother to learn was sentenced to the next years of his life in prison.

And Neuvillette didn’t know where he would go after that. Neuvillette didn’t even know if he would be recognizable after the hardship.

If he would even live through it.

Just…like you.

Yet this judge was duty-bound to let himself drown in that ignorance yet again.

“If he didn’t perhaps some memory would have flashed through his mind again.”

[cherrylovelycherry]

“Childe took all the love that belonged to me, I guess.”

pairing. neuvillette x fem!reader cw/genre. angst, lovers to strangers. masterlist! requests open!

“Childe, the 11th of the Fatui harbingers, is considered guilty.”

Your heart dropped upon hearing Neuvillette’s cold tone. The next thing you knew, you witnessed Childe battling numerous waves of guards. As he was about to turn into his Foul Legacy form, Neuvillette got up in the blink of an eye and attacked him mid-transformation, apprehending and knocking him out.

“Take him away.” He instructs to the guards. When his brooding dark blue eyes met yours, they immediately softened.

Y/N watched intently as the Chief Judge, Neuvillette, knocked out his other Fatui friend, Childe, and found him guilty.

He put his hand to his heart as he unconsciously grimaced in disgust and pain at the tremendous blow Neuvillette had dealt to Childe.

Her reaction… was quite odd. Neuvillette was puzzled as to why you sympathised with Childe, of all people. As the court was being dismantled, he slowly approached her.

“I know you were friends with Childe. But please… try to be objective about it.”

The opera house emptied in an instant. Y/N crossed her arms at Neuvillette's sudden proximity.

"Objective?" She asked. 

"You knocked him out, Neuvillette." She continued, looking into his dark blue orbs.

Her cold glare stopped Neuvillette mid-step. “Childe was about to kill everyone in this courtroom… including you. Your attachment toward him is… strange, Y/N.”

“I do not wish to quarrel..” He paused for a moment. “Please, don’t take your anger out on me.”

"Ah... you never want to fight, Neuvillette." She commented, mimicking his words, feeling a little bad about the fact that he had knocked Childe out. Y/N knows very well that he is a Fatui, but she knew that he wouldn't be able to kill an innocent.

“I cannot be lenient towards criminals.” Neuvillette sounded almost irritated. “Do you know how many people he’s killed or affected?”

“I cannot overlook these atrocities… I will not.” His words were cold but you still felt he was trying so hard not to let his anger get the best of him.

“Please, Y/N, you cannot be this naive.”

...but, maybe...

”Why… is Childe important to you?” He asked cautiously.

His heart pounded at a rapid-fire pace, as if he knew the answer. ”Is it… love?”

“You… like him?”

"I'm not the naive one, Neuvillette."

At her next words he felt a heavy air in the atmosphere, his tone cautious. Y/N turned her head slightly when she saw the strange, unreadable expression on Neuvillette's face.

"Hm?"

"I only care about him, Neuvillette."

"Oh... I see..."

But... he still had this feeling, as if...

You could tell that Neuvillette was puzzled by your answer, for the question had left him pondering as well. His eyes widened at the thought.

"You still care for him... in a different way, don't you?" He sighed. He could no longer hold it in.

He paused for a moment, looking away from you. "I know."

"I know you like him."

"Yes, I'm honest, Neuvillette. I care about him, it just seems to me that you overreacted by knocking him out."

Everything was going well until she heard his other words. Her heart skipped a beat, her purple eyes hesitated in anguish, until she took a deep breath and calmed down.

"No, I don't like it" She spoke again, her tone was...strange. As if the annoyance from before was gone. Y/N also looked away as she scratched one arm.

He was still clearly confused by your words. "...You admit that you care for him, but... not like this?"

Neuvillette raised an eyebrow at your words, but... there was still something inside him that told him you were lying.

At this point, he began to feel frustrated again. "Why are you lying, Y/N?"

"Why don't you just admit it?"

"Um... it's a bit complicated..."  She spoke after a few seconds.

Until his heart skipped a beat again at the thought of this situation.

"But... why do you care so much? Why do you insist so much, Neuvillette?" She started to get defensive, he felt like this was some kind of questionnaire.

"Do you like me or what?" She spoke in a defensive tone, his words sounding a bit abrupt without meaning to.

“Y/N…” He hesitated at your question, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“…”

“Yes.” Neuvillette replied. “I like you.”

He paused for a moment, glancing at you. Your words stung, but… he understood that he couldn’t be mad at you.

This… is an unexpected turn of events.

"You see? There's no reason for this-" Her words were interrupted by that sudden declaration. "I like you",his words rolled through her mind. She honestly hadn't expected Neuvillette to affirm her earlier question.

It all seemed to make sense now. But at the statement, Y/N froze.

Her heart skipped a beat, this was not what she had expected.

You could see Neuvillette's eyes widen, as if he'd said something he... shouldn't have.

You could tell he still had feelings for you, no matter how hard he tried not to admit it. He quickly regained his composure.

His dark blue eyes met yours for a moment before his expression slowly softened and his words were gentle.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I..." Neuvillette sighed. "You know I can't lie."

"Ah..." She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose in irritation.

"Then... we'll talk about it." She said with a sigh, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

Your lack of enthusiasm... hurt Neuvillette's feelings a little at first. He expected it to be... different. But he understood that it was, among other things, the passage of time that had changed things between the two of them.

"...You... like Childe very much, don't you?..."

Y/N swallowed hard. Neuvillette had asked that question again.

"...I..."

"It's... I don't know, Neuvillette. It's kind of complicated." She spoke looking away, a little uncomfortable talking about her love affairs especially with him.

"..." Neuvillette sighed, his tone of voice soft as when he first expressed his affection for her. He never took his eyes off her but he kept trying to ignore his feelings once again....

"...Do you still... have feelings for me, Y/N?"

"...!" at his question, her gaze focused on him with an expression of surprise.

Soon that expression changed to hesitation.

"I don't..." She began.

"I don't know, Neuvillette. It's not clear to me either." She continued to avert her gaze, neither allowing herself nor wanting to see the hidden anguish she learned to read in Neuvillette's blue eyes.

“…Y/N, look at me.” His voice sounded stern to an extent, but you could still make out a hint of… tender love in Neuvillette’s tone.

“I have waited a long time for an answer.” He paused shortly after. “After all, I… still love you.”

"..."

There was only silence.

A despairing, heartbreaking silence to Neuvillette's misfortune.

Y/N intertwined her hand with the other, as if seeking her own mental calm, as she took in a sharp intake of breath.

"...I'm sorry, Neuvillette." She spoke, her voice was in the form of apology and regret. Her heart wasn't speaking for her, it was her mind, however, she now had to hold herself as a priority instead of always prioritising others.

"I don't love you anymore." She sentenced. A cold breeze made her shiver. 

Though she knew it wasn't a cold air, it was the tone in which his words had come out.

Rejection hurts, yes... but Neuvillette almost expected it.

His love is unrequited. But he is grateful for your honesty.

Tears welled in her eyes as he tried to hold them back.

He sighed slowly and looked away from you again, taking a few moments to digest everything. His tone was soft again.

"...I see." He paused briefly. "Does Childe hold a place in your heart, Y/N?"

It sounded masochistic to want to know more about the feelings her heart now held, but he couldn't refuse to ask.

"Yes." she affirmed.

"My heart now has room only for Childe." At first her voice wavered however she pulled himself together.

She looked into Neuvillette's light blue eyes, which she loved long ago.

Y/N had learned to read those mysterious eyes of hers and, pitifully, saw only bitterness and sorrow within them.

Neuvillette stared into your eyes for a few seconds before muttering to himself, almost so that you couldn't hear it.

”I was expecting that, but… it’s still painful for me to hear it…”

“... I see.” He muttered once again, his eyes closing slightly as he turned back to face you.

There was nothing else he could do or say, as he still loved you… but, you didn’t love him anymore. He was left speechless for quite some time.

"I'm sorry..." She apologised again.

She really wanted the feelings of pure love she had felt for Neuvillette before to remain in her heart. But it didn't happen and Y/N couldn't do anything about it.

"I must go now... goodbye, Neuvillette." She gave him a small bow, as if to thank him for all they had been through together, and without looking into his beautiful eyes, which had looked at her with love not more than two years ago, she turned away, standing still in her place, hesitatingly. Her body would not let her move towards the exit. 

“No.. wait…” Neuvillette spoke quietly.

“Before you go… I would like to tell you something.”

Silence.

“I…” He paused mid-sentence, almost at a loss for words. He took a few deep breaths before speaking “Even if you do not love me anymore, I am grateful to have known you.”

“...Thank you, Y/N.” He bowed his head ever so slightly.

Those words echoed momentarily in his head. He took a deep breath before turning only his head and giving her one last smile. That smile that always was and always would be for him.

She did not move, a small but small part of her hoped he would continue, however, that was not the case.

The wait lasted no longer, as always he would say no more. She released the air from her lungs that she had been holding in without realising it.

Y/N turned her head, again in the direction of the door, taking hesitant but firm steps.

Neuvillette watched you walk away, his expression turned from bitter to… heartbroken.

Your lack of love towards him hurt him quite a lot. A lot more than he expected it to be.

“... Y/N.” He murmured, his voice trembling.

“... I wish you all the best for the future.” You could tell his voice was almost breaking apart, as he slowly took a deep breath and sighed.

He still wanted to keep in touch with you, but he had no choice but to let you go.

If only he had said more words like that, she would not have had the willpower to just walk away. She would have returned to him.

She opened the big doors, and without further ado, stepped out.

Neuvillette slowly turned around, his gaze directed towards the ground as he tried to take in everything.

...Childe is in her heart now, not him.

His chest felt heavy.

“Childe took all the love that belonged to me, I guess.”

He let out a sorrowful sigh in the end.

…

Within two minutes of closing the doors, thunder rumbled in the sky and a few drops began to fall, turning into heavy rain.

©cherrylovelycherry do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[sunnynwanda]

Supervillain gets sick. Very, VERY sick. Will someone help him or is life about to get much, much worse for the master criminal?

Supervillain is sick

The air feels cold against their clammy skin, sending chills down their spine and arms. Their chest movements are uneven as they try to suppress another fit of coughs choking on their throat. Supervillain squeezes their eyes shut, waiting for it to pass. Their eyelids are heavy as lead when they try to open their eyes. They attempt a deep breath but end up wheezing through another cough.

Superhero be damned. 

That ice-cold bath in the frozen river must have been the last straw. They had landed on the bridge to wipe the perspiration off their forehead and run a hand through their damp hair. Meningitis was the last thing they wanted to die from, not after such a brilliant career as a master criminal and head of everything underground. Superhero didn't entirely mind the state of affairs in the city either. Their battles were nothing more than a warning. A display of power on both their ends to ensure no one attempted to defy the balance they had achieved.

Supervillain huffs out a shuddering breath, pressing a palm against their chest. It hurts all the way up to their throat and head. Their back feels stiff despite the softness of their couch. They did not expect the push and had to regroup under the surface, loosing precious time and, apparently, their lungs to the water.

The room is getting too hot, so they throw their blanket off, allowing the air to touch their burning skin. They inhale sharply at the sensation before realising they are no longer alone in the room.

"That's not a good idea," Supervillain glances in the general direction of the voice. What an astute observation. Had they not been this exhausted, they would have jumped up or searched for a weapon. Superhero shakes their head, walking out of the shadows.

"I'm not known for good ones," Supervillain admits, earning a low chuckle from their nemesis.

"How long have you been burning up like this?" Superhero asks, seizing them up. Supervillain raises an eyebrow watching Superhero point at their eyes. Ah, yes. Thermal vision. 

"What day is it today?" They ask. Their mouth is dry, but when they take a gulp of water, it feels stale against their tongue. "I've been down since Monday night."

"Are you out of your mind?" Superhero's voice goes unusually high. It must be about a week then, Supervillain assumes. They suspect it is pneumonia, and judging from the frown in Superhero's brow, they must be correct in that diagnosis. They want to ask how bad it is but opt for a safer route.

"I didn't exactly throw myself into a goddamn frozen river, did I?" They retort before going into a violent coughing fit. Superhero pulls them into a sitting position, rubbing circles on their back until they calm down. "You did."

"I know," Superhero looks ashamed, which they thoroughly enjoy despite the fever and weakness. They lean back against the couch, resting their spinning head. Dehydrated, Superhero mutters under their breath. "What do we do?"

Supervillain has to suppress a laugh at the risk of going into another uncontrollable fit. Their chest hurts from constant coughing. "How would I know? You're the ex-doctor here."

"There's no such thing as an ex-doctor," Superhero smiles, collecting their thoughts. They need ibuprofen, coughing syrup, some antibiotics, rest and lots to drink. "I wish I could listen to your lungs."

"Can't you do that with your eyes?" Superhero can't help the laugh that escapes their lips.

"Just how clueless are you?" They don't wait for a reply, marching into the kitchen only to come back with a new glass of water and some medicine in their hand. "Take this. It'll help you sleep while I make run for the pharmacy."

For some unfathomable reason, Supervillain obliges without question. They must be really weak, Superhero figures. They drape the blanket over Supervillain's form and find another for when their fever drops and they start shaking. They make a cup of lemon tea and place it on the coffee table, ordering Supervillain to drink it before their return.

Superhero knows who is to blame for the ice water bath, yet they can't help but wonder why there's no one taking care of the master criminal. No henchmen, no followers, no minions. Just them, alone in their lair. Their life behind the curtains feels eerily identical to Superhero's.

They glance back, wondering who and what they are fighting for and find no answer. Would anyone notice if one day Supervillain went missing? Seeing them now, they could as well be gone, and no one would come looking for their lifeless body. They could die alone in their living room, and no one would know. Would anyone notice if it were Superhero? They didn't know. They didn't want to know.

Hi, lovely anon! I might have taken this into a slightly different direction from what you expected but I hope you still find it fun. Thank you for the request :)

Masterlist

[affableramen]

Assorted creditor Pantalone x afab!debtor reader headcanons. Episode two

((highly requested))

tags: tsundere!pantalone ; condescending, slightly vulgar villain ; he is a meanie ; toxic relationship ; early stage of relationship ; manipulative Lone ; slight degradation+humiliation ; choking ; slap dynamics (you slap him) ; degrading names (“bitch”) ; pet names (“kitten”) ; sexual themes ; criminal themes ; pantalone has chronic illnesses

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

⟣

He is cutting your pay.

“I’m quite familiar with your blunt personality by now, however I won’t tolerate mean language towards me like in the morning.”

“I apologise. I’m really having a bad day. I’m not in a mood.”

“Not in a mood you say? How unprofessional. I don’t allow unprofessionalism in my office.” Pantalone approaches you closer. “You’re staying overtime. Do you understand?”

You curse under your breath. “Shit.”

“What was that?” his ears perk up. He is so insufferably sensitive.

“Nothing. Fine, I’ll do the overtime. Just don’t hurt my grandmother.”

Pantalone growls at your joke and perception of him as a sadistic maniac.

“As if.” His face is so close to you that you can feel his breath on your skin. There is an unspoken moment between you two, the silent dialogue not yet undestandable. But just before you feel he heat rise in your chest, Pantalone backs away to his desk. His whole demeanour screamed “I’ll make you lick the toilet floor if you misbehave.” You let out a sigh, accepting your fate and attempting to leave his office.

“What’s this? On your wrist. Judging by the looks of it, it’s quite recent.”

You look down at your hand and see that there is, indeed a visible evidence of your previous encounter. Thanks to you wearing short sleeved blouse, Pantalone could notice this too. Oh damn, you can’t have him ask you questions…

“Is that a bruise?”

“No, it’s nothing.”

Pantalone rises from his desk approaching you with determines steps, but his demeanour this time is not intimidating at all. He stands closer to you and extends his hand to you.

“Show me.”

“It’s alright. Don’t worry over it.”

You discard him, but he grabs your hand right away swiftly.

“Ah-ah-ah…” he snakes his hand around your wrist. “Care to explain?”

You sigh heavily. There is that man constantly touching you without consent and asking you to hang out together. Even the employees of such prestigious place like Northland Bank can be utterly disgusting people.

“Just a minor misunderstanding with one of my coworkers.”

“Is it a male?

“A guy, yes. But don’t worry your smart head over it.”

When he asks you to explain the bruise you feel him keep his cold attitude still, but once you reveal the reason to the bruise, you can clearly feel the difference in the vibe from him. The look of his eyes becomes too heavy, alongside with the usual smile suddenly lacking on his face.

“Were you harassed?”

You finally manage to free yourself out of his grasp because his grip suddenly loosens.

“He regretted doing this later.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why tell you of my personal stuff?”

His tone becomes aloof again.

“Because I would be a bad employer if I didn’t look after my employees.”

“I don’t need anyone to look after me, thanks. Men in my life have been nothing but a burden. I’ll find a way without your mighty influence.”

“How unwise to be so prejudiced. I would have transferred you to another department, should I have known. And no violence would be needed.”

“I’m perfectly capable of defending myself, thank you very much.”

The air of unsolved conflict remains between you.

“Your pay shall live… this time. But only because you’re so pathetic.” He spits out and leaves you, his long robes cutting the air as he storms out. “Go grab a coffee. It’s break time.”

Pantalone walks down the corridor of his office building with such infuriated look that it seems as if the footsteps from him are burning. His face is the coldest ever and his sharp gaze can cut glass.

“Will fucking fire you all. You had one job, imbeciles.”

He is definitely frustrated with something and it is showing crystal clear. To your biggest misfortune, at that same moment you are walking with a stock of papers right on your way to him. You rapidly stop seeing the look on your boss’ face. Pantalone, narrowing eyes, freezes in place as well. His appearance becomes even more terrific when he spots you, as if you seeing you bump into him was the last drop.

“We’re struggling with staff. You’re going to stay overtime today.” He says, clearly not accepting any objection. You do not say anything and just keep standing here, realising that you’re just a slave to your boss who did not leave a room to refusal, not caring whether or not you had plans, or you are just tired... That only angers Pantalone more.

“Have you got nothing to do? Stop staring and go back to work, lazy bitch.”

It’s the first time you hear him explicitly call you something rude and condescending. Your face becomes long in surprise but you don’t even have time to be insulted cause Pantalone has already stormed out his way down…

This autumn day really, really doesn’t give you any hope to expect anything nice today. During the lunch break, you make a video call to you granny, ensuring she is fine as well. Even in her respectable age, she still goes to work — all to pay the debt and keep herself busy. She says, she believes that having a job makes her feel needed by others. And she won’t retire until her health starts giving up… You sigh as you finish your quick daily call and take a sip of coffee. Being relaxed and rested for a while you do not even notice a ruffling of formal suit clothes behind you.

“Hey, doll. Still don’t fancy a drink with me and guys? Just one night. Promise you’ll enjoy.”

You feel slightly vulnerable being sat at the desk so you get up and give your “friend” a skeptical look. “No, thanks, I’m not into parties. And I believe we already discussed it last week.”

The tall blonde-haired man seems to not even consider your rejection.

“Don’t trust me? We’ll have a wonderful night, the places are already reserved. Join me, don’t be so cold and stiff.” He caresses your shoulder. “Eww”, you think, “I gotta wash my hands after that.”

“My answer is unchanged, I prefer spending my free time home.”

“How dull and boring.”

“Just like me. I am quite boring, indeed, so I’m not sure even why you’re still trying to invite me.”

“Doll-”

The blondie is not given a chance to finish the sentence when someone’s dark and tall figure grows behind him.

“The lady said she doesn’t want to go.”

The lowly office employee turns to face him. “Boss. We were having a friendly conversation, no pressure.”

“Finished conversing? Now go back to your job. The lunch break finished 3 minutes ago.” His tone is flat and his face resembles more robot than human.

The blondie is left with no hope but accept his fate. He eyes you once again before leaving your desk. Pantalone, however, seems like he has some sort of business not done yet with you.

“Show me the project you have been working on lately.”

“Me??”

“Who else?”

Narrowing your eyes in suspicion, you slowly pull one of your drafts and present it to Pantalone. His expressionless face changes as soon as he reads it. His eyes widen and his face goes long.

“…Not bad. Although not entirely clean, it does look like a worthy idea. I’m quite content.”

You exhale the pent up tension.

“Thank you so much.”

He gives you the papers back, your fingers slightly grazing against each other for a couple of seconds.

“Forgive me for being rude in the morning.” He says nonchalantly and turns away immediately, as if hiding his eyes from you. Pantalone leaves your working space, where you are free to continue the paperwork…

The late overwork shift finally comes to an end and you tidy your working desk as usual.

It’s autumn and it gets darker quite early. You grab your handbag, sign out and close the office door as you attempt to leave. Nothing seems to disturb your peace so far and just as you planned beforehand you go through the park to your home right on the foot, rejecting all taxi services for today. You feel a sudden need of fresh air after encountering your boss in a hot-and-cold mood, as well as being constantly bugged by your clingy and charming coworker.

As you walk down the park you notice how darker it is getting by every minute, however due to excessive tiredness from your job, you do not pay much attention to such things as safety. Or perhaps the mere look on your face, as if if anything dares to talk to you, you’re gonna kick their butt keeps random strangers metres away from you. However your tranquility is ruined the moment you hear sudden ruffling of clothes next to you.

“Hey, hardly caught up with you. Why didn’t you take a taxi tonight? You usually do”, and again your coworker starts the conversation first.

“Have you been following me?” you stop in your tracks.

“Listen, I just wanted to offer a deal—”

The ultimately charismatic blonde-haired man resembling a concubine offers a small bag. “It’s fun, trust me. You’re so stiff, you need another relaxation method than sitting all night by yourself.”

You immediately recognise the sachets with infamous substance.

“I don’t smoke that shit and I wouldn’t recommend to you either.”

“C’mon girl, just one try.”

“No thanks. Keep your dirty secrets to yourself. I’ll pretend we didn’t have that conversation.”

He grabs your arm as you turn away to leave, but you response with a sharp slap. The man’s face is violently turned to the side however he does not plan to stop yet. The next moment you feel a rough slap across your own cheek - the slap from a masculine hand stronger than yours making you fall to the ground. In panic, you feel your chest tighten. You did not expect to be beaten back, even knowing how deeply rotten the man’s world was.

“Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get narcotics like these, huh? And I offered one to you. You should feel grateful. The others are dying to have fun.”

“This is not my kind of fun”, still in shock, you wipe your lip. The anger boils instantly and fiercely inside you after the man slapped you and you almost jump back at him wanting to beat him with your own hands. Once again, things go unplanned. This time, however, you’re thanking the God.

“How lowly you’ve fallen raising a hand on a lady”, another figure appears from the dark, the voice coming from the man’s lips is velvety and raspy, but a hint of threatening is showing.

“Ah, the boss himself. Tell me, dear, do you think your boss never indulges himself? Ha! I will tell you the truth- he does, but hides it quite well. But being a drug dealer I can see clear signs on him showing his addiction. He’s just like us!” the blondie criminal says and turns to point at Pantalone with blaming intention. “And judging just by your reddened eyeballs and yellow skin you must have been taking narcotics for a few years. Tell me, what exactly are you taking? Out of curiosity.”

The man standing out from the shadows makes a sour face at his words.

“Will you shut up? I have all right to make you arrested right now, since you’ve confirmed your crimes. Frankly speaking, I’ve been suspending narcotics activity in my office for a while. Stalking your coworker like that, you have only made my job to catch you easier. And let me tell you something: I may not be saint, but such foul business is not allowed in my office.”

Holding a hand to your broken lip you slowly rise from the ground and take a look at Pantalone who has been fortunate enough to both find a criminal and save his employee’s (your) dignity. You feel slight dizziness and you don’t know if you want to be in between these two men right now. You just want to go home and rest your bones on the bed.

“Get inside my car”, Pantalone says firmly looking at you. You do not move an inch which makes him irritated and he barks back. “Get inside my car. Now.”

“Come on, miss. Please”, by unspeakable speed a man known as Pantalone’s butler appears behind you and walks you out of the crime scene.

You can see that Pantalone is left alone with a serious bandit and you’re not entirely sure whether you should be chill about him handling the situation alone. After all, the banker, despite his good physique, was quite an ill man.

“We’ll have to wait for the master, miss. He’s going to take the responsibility of the criminal and come back soon. Trust me, he’s good at handling bandits like this.”

“I’m not feeling well… I need fresh air.”

You reject all butler’s attempts to get you inside the car and instead sit on the bench in the corner of the park, near a street lantern. The butler stands in the shadows, ensuring your physical safety, but frustrated at the unability to persuade you staying in his master’s car.

The other few minutes feel torturously long for you as your head keeps pumping really badly. You hide your face in your hands as you curl up to your knees in a pathetic sight. Both due to shock and chilly temperature you find yourself starting to freeze. Your body involuntarily shakes for a couple of seconds, until…

Pantalone comes to find you on the bench, holding your head. He drapes his blazer over you.

You raise your head to peer at Pantalone. He is towering over you with an unreadable expression, looking quite cold as he’s wearing his turtleneck only.

“I told you to get into the car.”

“I wasn’t in the mood. I’m still not.”

“You don’t trust me?” With late realisation Pantalone inquires.

“Apparently the lady doesn’t want to be near any man right now, let alone getting into a man’s car, even if it is her boss”, the butler assumes outloud.

“Hm. I can understand that. But I also think it wrong to leave the lady in the middle of the park at the dusk.”

You gently touch his coat trying to pull it closer, involuntarily reaching for more warmth.

“It’s okay. You can give me a lift, if that doesn’t inconvience you.”

“No, it won’t. I’d rather see you get home safely on my own responsibility than by a random questionable driver from a taxi service.”

You nod, your feelings mixed. Visibly having a difficulty with that, Pantalone offers you his hand to help you get up. You take it only after a few moments, dumbfounded and frozen by a sudden gentleman-coded gesture. You mentally thank Pantalone for his patience to not draw his hand away as you grasp it.

“What happened to your neck?” you ask silently, seeing a faded mark around his neck as if from choking.

Itching pain causes Pantalone to rub his neck visibly obvious.

“The criminal tried to choke me with my glasses chain. As you can see, it didn't last. I wouldn't be so reckless wearing a thick metal piece. Quite literally anyone would have access to my neck in that case. And surely, they would use that opportunity to assassinate me.”

Despite your tiredness, you still have strength to make a frightened expression.

“Are you alright?”

Looking back at you and noticing your broken lip, the sight of which stirs bitterness and cruelty in him, Pantalone huffs quietly.

“Not worse than yourself.”

Having realised that Pantalone might have made you feel bad about your appearance right now, he immediately looks you in the eyes, his own amethysts widen, and with the same speed he turns away from you, hiding his embarrassed face.

While in the car, Pantalone despite having flawlessly working heating, does not ask for his coat back when it lies on your shoulders as if carved onto your body. The ride seems peaceful. Both of you do not find anything to say to each other. Leaning against your arm, you look into the window. Pantalone is sitting next to you on the back seat, but keeps the distance between you firm, having seated himself near the opposite window. In between you, there is an air of many unsaid things.

Soon enough, Pantalone’s butler stops the engine and you can see your house through the window. Pantalone being a gentleman again leaves the car first and walks to open the door for you.

The door is thrown open and you get out of the car. He stands frozen in front of you, trying to read the flow of your thoughts as he finally speaks after the long silence:

“I could walk with you a bit.”

“Okay”, you respond quietly. There are just a few steps towards your door but he still offers to do it anyway. “I don’t mind that.”

As Pantalone walks you right to your door with his hands behind his back, you suddenly ask:

“Your eyes indeed look unhealthy.What narcotics do you take?”

Pantalone stops abruptly, his hands unfold as he brings one to his eye and pulls the lower eyelid slightly down. You can see his reddened eyeball clearly under the light of street lantens and the fade silver of the moon.

“Since he said that and you already noticed… I wouldn't like to raise any suspicion, so I will answer honestly. It’s morphine and a little bit of vanadium.”

“I understand the vanadium part but…morphine?”

“It is a strong painkiller.”

“Not that I don’t know what it is, but the side effects are no joke. You’re cruel to yourself.”

To that Pantalone doesn't reply.

“Stay home tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. I will put you paid holidays.”

“For what?”

“For courage, obviously. And I believe you need a rest from my office. In a mental way.”

“That bruise on my cheek and the broken lip are definitely going to give my looks a hard time.”

“Do you have any balm? Does it still hurt?” Pantalone leans closer to you attempting to touch your face but you instinctively pull out. He doesn’t say anything but his eyes bear an apologetic look.

“I just… didn’t expect you to move closer.”

“I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.”

“…But I have one, don't worry.”

“Even such a clean, polished place as my headquarters did not guarantee you safety. Isn’t it ironic?”

“I guess, even an office is not free from disgusting criminals or other evil people.”

“And for that I apologise on my behalf as a CEO.”

This conversation cannot but make you feel strangely intimate with Pantalone as he says all these things. You sense him being completely blunt and honest with you which is an unexpected experience, given his sly personality.

“You’re not mad?”

“I’m tired mostly.”

Pantalone nods, waving you off.

“Then go to sleep. It was quite an adventure for you.”

You put your hand on your doorhandle, the other hand grasping the keys as you respond with delay, weirdly not wanting to wave him off back.

“Good night, Pantalone.”

“Good night.”

When you are in your bedroom you realise that you’re still wearing his blazer. You sniff it lightly and feel the scent of Pantalone’s spicy cologne mixed with his natural musk. The scent is intoxicating. You fall asleep in his outerwear, not thinking twice.

⟢

[i-am-a-l0st-gh0st]

We listen to a lotta true crime- Wrio x Gn!reader- Part 3

But it's alright, she'll be fine t/w- prison, Wriothesley flirts(?) with you, kissing (consent cause consent is sexy) summary-you've been wrongly accused of trying to murder your ex-husband and wriothesleys determined to get you out

Part 1, Part 2

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Taglist form!

The kiss that had happened the previous day had felt like a dream. The way his lips were so soft and gentle. Wriothesley was just perfect. The whole night you sat there blushing and kicking your legs like a little girl, anyone who walked in would’ve guessed what happened.

The next day Wriothesley came to your room once again. “Y/n wake up.”

His voice was stern and his face wasn’t much different. He walked right in sitting down next to you on the bed. “The Knave contacted me, She heard you were in prison.”

Your family has supported the House of Hearth for many years and Arlecchino was like a mother to you when your parents died. You grew up and eventually backed the orphanage financially, which she was very grateful for. The news had reached her ears because of Lyney.

He was one of your closest friends and you too always stuck together. Makes sense he would worry.

“She sounded terribly worried and asked what would happen. I told her about our plan and she said she can help in any way.”

“That's great! We have someone on our side.”

“Oh and also your court hearing is in a week.”

“What?”

“For the appeal.”

“Ah yes.”

You too continued to talk and figure out how you could win the court over. Over about an hour you could fell Wriothesley moving closer and closer, till you ended up in his arms. It was nice and warm, can’t say it helped you think too much but it was nice. Your ex-husband had never shown you affection the way Wriothesley does to you.

A week later

(Look I honestly have no idea how court things work, I have tried to write one before, but that story never finished.)

You and Wriothesley walked into the courtroom, but only one of you was confident. You were sweating and was almost not breathing properly. Wrio noticed this and began to help you. “Hey y/n, look at me okay? Its gonna work. And if it doesn't you can come back down to the fortress with me.”

“Wriothesley, I have a life… I need to get back to it.”

“I see.”

The judge began to silence the room and started the proceedings. She called you to the stand to present your brief. You felt like so many eyes were watching and almost couldn’t take it. THis was something you had to do… If you wanted out that is.

You took the stand and began to speak.

“I had an unfair trial as I barely had one at all. My ex-husband framed me for attempted murder for what reason I don't know. I was out with some friends all day and had hardly seen him, the witnesses are here. When i got home the police were already at my house and my husband was one the floor covered in what seemed to be blood. The next thing i knew i was in prison and now i am here. There is no evidence that i even tried to murder my husband, no finger prints and no other forms of DNA. Thank you for your time.”

The judge seemed to think over your statement before inviting your husband to the stand. After the proceedings, it was time for a final verdict.

“The defending party is declared not guilty.”

You and Wriothesley in happiness. You had won, you were free. You weren’t a criminal. You felt a large pair of arms pull you in for a hug.

“You won…”

You hugged him back pulling him into a tighter embrace, how could you leave him behind?

After you had recovered from the shock of winning Wriothesley took you out to dinner.

“So whatcha gonna do now?”

“Go back to my normal life.”

Wriothesley seemed slightly hurt, he wasn’t really included in your normal live, as he lived underwater. He knew he couldn’t get too hurt because he’d only met you, what a week ago?

“I’m assuming I’m not included.

“Wrio.. I really like you, I'm just not quite sure how it would work.”

“May i have this last night with you?”

“You may.”

Taglist

@pandragonsoul, @atsukawolfcat, @milkwithspicyicecubes, @pookiebearcave. @c0smouche, @with3ringh3ights, @kitsunechan707, @kpopmenace143

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Funfact : I love asking for part 2...

So if it's not a problem : part 2 of the Reader with a criminal past ??

-Crow Anon

Hiya! Hope this is okay, I wasn't sure what exactly to put aha!

Warnings: discussions of previous crimes, nice strauss? (lol)

Hotch left you alone for the remainder of the journey, suspecting that you needed some time alone, which you were grateful for. You were, to put it bluntly, shitting bricks. It had been expunged, it technically didn't exist anymore. But that didn't mean it still wouldn't bite you in the ass.

Towards the end of the flight, Hotch sat back down. "It's going to have to be included in the reports." He said, his voice understanding.

"I know."

"Which means Strauss will see it."

"Yeah." You gave a soft sigh. "There's no promise she's not going to majorly overreact about it, is there?"

"I can't make that promise, no."

"Ah shit." You gave a small sigh. "She won't fire me though, right?"

"I don't believe so, no."

The rest of the flight dragged, with you wanting to do nothing more than crawl into a hole and hide for the rest of eternity. She was probably going to tear you a new one.

She approaches you half an hour after you land. "Agent (L/N), we need to talk."

You give a small nod, "Yes Ma'am." You stood, following her to her office, where Hotch was stood. You give him a small nod. "I'm assuming this is something to do with the case?"

"You would be assuming correct, Agent (L/N)." Strauss said. "Please, take a seat."

You did so, Hotch sitting in the seat next to you. "I feel like I'm in the Principal's office," You mumble quietly, Hotch hides his amusement (but you can see it in his eyes).

"It has come to light that you have a criminal record."

"Had, Ma'am." You said, "It was expunged."

"And why, exactly, was it expunged?" She asked, tilting her head.

"Because, Ma'am, the Judge recognised that I was a child and I made mistakes, and I was sorry for those mistakes." You answered.

"And what, exactly were these crimes?"

You looked down at the file in her hands, "Ma'am, you already know and the file is right there." You said, "But theft, a couple cases of assault, few others."

She watched you closely for a moment before sighing and turning to Hotch. "Do you believe this coming to light will impact his ability to work?"

"No, I do not." Hotch answered.

"Very well." She said, "I suppose there's nothing else to say on the matter."

You frowned slightly, "That's it?" You asked.

Strauss fought the urge to smile, "Yes, that's it." She stated, "Agent Morgan also had a record that was expunged, it would be unfair to treat you any differently."

You gave a small nod, "Thank you Ma'am."

"You are both dismissed." She gave a curt nod of the head and turned to the stack of files on her desk. You and Hotch stood, making your way out of the room.

"Guess I was just making a mountain out of a mole hill." You looked at Hotch and gave a shrug.

[archivalofsins]

All the times that Yuno has hinted at wanting the audience to give her a 50/50 or say nothing omitting other notes I have on prisoners appearance or general attitude after trial one,

"About forgiving or not forgiving people, I don't think you'll be able to choose."

People tend to project their best case scenario on others. Stating that they believe they will do x or be incapable of doing x. I.E "You wouldn't hurt me." - "You won't do that." This is usually to allude to their desires while playing on the other persons morality and character. Though it can backfire if the other party takes it as a challenge or as the person speaking saying they are inept or inadequate which Es does-

I won't let something like that pass. Are you saying that you doubt my capability to do so?

"Ah, no that's not it. It's different to what you're thinking, prison guard." "You know those people who just want to convince themselves? So, they intrude on other people's affairs even though it's not their place- I despise them."

"They only do that to make themselves feel better. Don't they? Those people don't actually end up doing anything."

"No matter how many chilling memories I had to go through... Those people never gave me any warmth."

Umbilical

"Am I a bad girl? Please don’t answer."

(-273.15°C)

"This chaotic situation you've wrought with that job of yours- Is it fun?" What are you trying to say? "Are you personally satisfied? I mean, having forgiven and not forgiven. The prison is like this now." You mean the conflicts between the prisoners? "Yep! Kotoko-san, who you forgave, went super violent and then injured people came rolling in one after the other." Later "Ah... I don't have much interest in things like ethics and morals. Doesn't your stomach not inflate?" That sounds like quite a dangerous ideology. "No, but seriously, I really do think so... That there are lots of people who think, "I have to protect ethics and morals" then end up constrained and miserable. They should just live in a more easygoing manner."

"It's not like I want to win the discussion. I'm just saying what I think."

Using the direct translation here, "Doesn't your stomach not inflate?" to highlight this is once again Yuno asking Es isn't it not satisfying doesn't this not fill you up and leave you wanting for something. One could say it doesn't give that full tingly floating on air satisfied feeling. Are morals and ethics really enough of a metric to get to satisfying conclusions is a answer necessary for a satisfying conclusion?

Though Yuno does state she would have been find with not being forgiven or found guilty,

"Even if I was scorned by you, I would have been okay with being told I wasn't forgiven. I don't believe I'm not in the wrong. I'd accept it." ... "Despite that, you arbitrarily assumed things about me and sympathized with me. Even though all I did was make a rational decision of my own free will." I'm sorry, but that's the sort of thing Milgram is.

Then, I hate Milgram.

This is a side note but I find it interesting that Yuno consistently takes attention away from the abortion point she brought up. More so focusing on her work to the point that Es is like I'm not here to judge that.

I believe it depends on the degree. "Yes, yes. Of course, I think criminal offenses fundamentally aren't good." ... "But immoral acts that don't cause anyone misfortune do exist, right? Just like sugar-daddying. Because it's been deemed ethically wrong I was hiding it but... Is someone being troubled by it? It's a win-win engagement isn't it?" - The wanted wanting the wanter. The overlap, isn’t that some sort of perfection? ... It's as I said before, I have no intent to pursue the rights and wrongs of your acts outside of murder. However, the reality is that that is connected to your murder.

Please stop bringing up things that have nothing to do with your crime but it does have to do with your crime. Yuno, literally alluding to the fact that her work was in fact hurting people just to see it go over Es' head again. Then this topic just sort of fades.

They go into talking about something else.

Es just kind of doesn't combat her statement at all when she says it's not hurting anyone. Despite that just being historically untrue about the profession she's in. Mostly because people tend to cheat on their spouses with people in Yuno's line of work all the time. Something that does negatively impact the spouse, destroy families, and also if not done safely cause considerable health risks to clients and workers alike.

What do you mean it doesn't hurt anyone?

She specifies in trial one just how much this can hurt not only the client but the worker themselves. It mostly hurts the workers since they're held to a higher moral standard than the people usually seeking them out and paying them (while at times cheating on their spouses in the process).

She discusses the harm it can cause in her first trial interrogation,

"For example news outlets. They always make a big deal out of adultery, inappropriate comments, immodesty, and so on- Right? And then they start criticizing the people who make an appearance there. Don't you think it's ridiculous?"

So, she isn't ignorant to it.

To the contrary she seems to know the harm it causes when it comes to public opinion quite well. She even states that's why she didn't disclose the fact that she did that. So, why is she pretending like it's harmless here when again in her previous voice drama the first instance of news outlets stoking controversies was in regards to adultery. Something that people can and have for a long time committed with people in Yuno's profession.

Is it a win-win situation when one party has to take more responsibility than the other if what they are doing is found out and it's never really the person with the spouse, money, or affluence getting the short end of the stick but the person with the job?

No.

Yet, Yuno points out that she doesn't have to worry about those things. She did what she did because she wanted to not because she had to in any way shape or form.

"I'm not pitiable. My family gets along super well. And I'm not particularly struggling for money. I decided, of my own free will, to do it because I felt that it was necessary for me."

So, this is as she says in Tear Drop,

"The overlap, isn’t that some sort of perfection?"

Tear Drop

"Don’t weigh me measure me against your morality." "Just shut it, will you? You know it all."

"I can’t smile well anymore. It’s because of you."

“Let’s reload the warmth.”/“Let’s just do it, please smile?”

In closing,

Yuno in Milgram constantly, "That sort of treatment won't leave me satisfied."

The audience,

"Surely if we continue to vote her innocent she'll realize that she has nothing to feel bad about that her feelings are in fact unfounded. If we just keep using radical acceptance she'll realize she can let her guard down and be happy eventually." It yells and clamors so loudly it misses the part where she said she'd be able to accept a guilty verdict more than an innocent one.

Along with the myriad of times she stated that this sort of superficial sympathy given in order to make oneself feel good because one found a reason someone was worthy enough for it in their eyes does nothing for her and that the sort of people who behave that way are the one's she hates the most.

Probably has nothing to do with that I hate Milgram statement at all. She's probably super pleased now because she's accepted the publics opinion of her into her heart and was finally won over by kindness. Yippee everyone was so nice and everything was solved~ Isn't that fantastic?

"Can you not forgive without some extreme reason? Then, alternatively, if there was some extreme reason, could you forgive?"

The reality is that such sides of the issue exist.

Even though the act itself is the same?/ ……don’t tell me, did this murder seem smaller to you than the murders of the other prisoners? Thought-provoking!

[lurkiestvoid]

Headline 14h ago - Meta announces removal of fact checking

Headline 10h ago - Rump hints at economic war to annex Canada

Headline 9h ago - women can now be referred to as 'household objects' under new Meta guidelines

Headline 8h ago - Rump hints at military force to annex Greenland, Panama Canal

Headline 7h ago - Biden bans medical debt from affecting credit score

Headline 6h ago - Rump again alludes to WW3 if Israel isn't chilled out by Jan 20

Headline 5h ago - Rump says Gulf of Mexico to be renamed Gulf of America

Headline 4h ago - Rump team admits Jack Smith found evidence of vast criminal conspiracy

Headline 3h ago - Rump judge temporarily delays release of Jack Smith's Special Council Report

Ah, it begins again with gusto.

If y'all also memory-holed 2016-2021 like the rest of us, be prepared for the face-melting speed at which Shit Starts Happening in the coming weeks now that the election has been certified, and yes even before he's sworn in, whether or not he's allowed to do whatever it is.

No, it will not slow down, stop, or get better. It will keep getting faster, more, and worse.

It will be A Lot, just to even keep track of it all. Just like last time.

I do not have the energy for it, but if no one has already, there should be a good handful of blogs + mods prepared and dedicated just to covering as many headlines/stories as possible. It would be Important and possibly Dangerous Work. And even though I recognize it needs doing, I also recognize it is far outside my ability to reliably provide.

[hollow-prior]

Hurt People, Not Pets (The Rules of Vigilantism)

This is part four of a planned five-part mini-series involving Daredevil and Deadpool teaching Spidey about the unspoken rules of vigilantism. I started the series years ago and currently, this is the only part I ever finished. Ah well. Part of it might as well see the light of day

Fandom: Marvel (Daredevil, Deadpool, Spiderman)

Warnings:

Canon-typical violence/fighting.

Descriptions/mentions of dog fighting and animal murder.

There was a new vigilante on the scene.

That in and of itself was hardly cause for concern. Every so often some newly-enhanced shitbag showed up on the scene, wearing a handmade costume and bearing an alias that could only have come from a random word generator. 

Darkwar, Redfuel, Gangrene. They were all terrible.

Though, as Foggy liked to remind him, somebody named Daredevil didn’t exactly get to judge. Let those without sin cast the first stone and all that.

As far as Matt was concerned, that was different.

Matt had gotten stuck with a name he didn’t particularly want; they did their damned hardest to choose their own. They got their asses handed to them by common criminals and were sure to let whichever mugger or thug it was know their ‘superhero name’.

In the long run, though, he supposed it didn’t matter who chose their name. These new vigilantes popped up occasionally to bumble around and play hero. They didn’t last long. 

They never did.

Apart from getting in the middle of an important mission and screwing the whole thing up occasionally (Yes, ‘Jem Spell’, he was still mad about that), they weren’t a big problem. For the most part, they stayed off of Matt’s radar which, let’s face it, was better for everyone involved.

This person, though? He was different, at least according to Peter.

The teenaged wallcrawler had shown up during one of his fights, jumping in and taking on his share of the crooks with a cheerful, “Hey Double D!”

All throughout the fight he kept up a steady stream of chatter, his words going in one ear and out the other. After so many fights alongside him, Matt was used to filtering out his voice until it was little more than background noise.

The majority of the scumbags were already scattered across the pavement in various states of consciousness and, with Spidey’s help, the last few were quick to join them. Spiderman webbed them up and called the police and, despite Matt’s better judgement, he let him.

Something more important had caught his attention.

With the adrenaline of the fight wearing off, everything started to come into focus again, his senses spreading further throughout the secluded alleyway. A pipe in one of the buildings adjacent was leaking, a steady drip, drip slowly coming into focus as another sound began to make itself known.

Thump, thump, thump.

The heartbeat wasn’t the quick-paced thump-thump-thump of Peter’s or his own steady beat. It was something else entirely. Before he could move or say anything at all, Peter looked over.

“Wade,” he complained. “You could have helped!”

Wade hummed in acknowledgement and Matt could just picture the shit-eating grin he wore under his mask. “You and Red had it covered."

The sound of sirens came from a few streets over and without saying a word, the three made the unanimous decision to relocate. After all, bashing heads in the name of vigilante justice was generally frowned upon by officers of the law. They'd already learned that rule, thank you very much.

Once they were up on the nearby rooftop, Matt turned to them. “What are you two doing here? Talk.”

Peter was the first to speak. “We have a new target.”

That news was met with a raised eyebrow and threatening silence. Wade took over. “Red, dearest, there’s a new fuckhead to kill.”

“No! No killing,” Peter admonished, shoving Wade out of the way to take over once more. “Double D, I know you’re picky about who we uh- work on but this guy is terrible.”

“Everyone we deal with is terrible.”

Peter made a noise of frustration and finally, Matt conceded. With a sigh, he motioned for them to speak. “Fine. Who is it?”

There was a pause as Peter and Wade looked at each other, like they hadn’t expected him to give in so easily.

“He goes by the name Predator. You know the human trafficking ring? Well, some of them are involved in a dog fighting ring too. That’s what Predator’s been tracking down.”

Deadpool took over from there, pushing Peter aside with a gentle shove and taking his place two inches from Matt’s face.

“Mr. Predator-What’s-His-Face is taking down the dog fighting ring. Only problem that poor, sweety Petey has with this is that he’s taking down the people and the dogs.”

“He kills them, Red!”

While his teammates were perfectly capable of making complete sense on their own, their words might as well have been gibberish.

It took him a moment to piece the puzzle together.

Well. That certainly wouldn’t stand.

“What kind of intel do you have on him?”

—-—

Two nights later saw the three of them up on a rooftop, a fair distance away from their usual spot. It had taken hours of dedication and a lot of patience but, finally, they had gotten the information they needed.

Of course, most of Matt’s time had been spent corralling the other two rather than actually interrogating his informants, but it didn’t matter.

They’d gotten what they needed in the end.

In just short of an hour, there would be a group of the city’s worst thugs arriving for a show. Already, Matt could hear the dogs snarling and growling within the run-down warehouse.

It didn’t take long for Predator to show up.

The first thing Matt noticed was his heartbeat. Loud and fast, pounding away with a barely concealed anger that coursed through him.

Matt was familiar with the feeling. 

From the snickers and snarky comments coming from the left of him, he could gather that the guy had a pretty… intense costume. Black and covered in silver spikes, with a mask straight from a low-budget horror movie if Spidey and Deadpool were to be believed.

Just as he opened his mouth to tell them to shut up, there was a sudden commotion from the building next door.

All previous amusement was forgotten as the sound of shattered glass rang. Matt didn’t need his enhanced senses to hear the piercing screams that followed.

The three of them took off like a shot from a gun.

What remained of the window pane shattered as Matt crashed through it, followed closely behind by Spidey.

Deadpool chose a more… ostentatious entrance.

He came in through the front, kicking the door down and practically screaming the words to some 2010s pop song. The singing – if you could call it that – continued throughout the ensuing fight and, annoying as it was, Matt couldn't help being impressed with Deadpool's lung capacity.

Matt ducked to avoid a flying fist, popping up to deliver his own blow immediately after, and was met with the chorus of some god-awful sailor song.

After the fight, he would tell Deadpool that he hadn’t known he was there. He would say it was an accident, he got too caught up in the fight. But in the moment, he was all-too-glad to shut him up with a fist to the mouth.

The three of them ducked and weaved, working like a well-oiled machine, as their opponents began to drop like flies around them.

While Spidey was more acrobatic, jumping and flipping over whoever was in his way, Deadpool was all muscle and sharp blades, cutting down anyone brave enough to stand in his way. The two of them were complete opposites, with Matt's style falling somewhere between the two extremes.

By the time the fight was over, the three of them were breathing heavily. The sound of loud barking pierced through the post-fight haze and, as his senses returned to him, Matt’s focus shifted to the reason they were here in the first place.

Predator.

The man in question was standing just feet away, a slight wheezing coming from his leather-clad chest as he heaved in breath after breath. He wasn’t as used to this as the other three and it showed.

Without a glance at the them, he began to approach the dogs tied up in the corner, serrated steel blade in hand.

Deadpool was the first of them over there, throwing an arm around Predator’s shoulders and pulling him in for a side hug. Given the height difference between them – Predator was about five seven to Deadpool’s six three – it made for a bit of an awkward maneuver. 

“Somebody’s been a naughty, naughty boy,” he said, swaying from side to side and pinning the guy’s head against his chest, wrenching his neck with each movement.

To his credit, Predator fought tooth and nail to get free, cursing under his breath all the while. Against Deadpool’s hulking form, it was no use.

The other two watched the proceedings, making no move to intervene. Matt had been on the receiving end of that treatment far too many times, he was more than happy for it to happen to someone else this time.

When Deadpool finally released his captive, shoving him towards Matt and Spidey, the two were on him like white on rice.

Spidey caught him as he stumbled, steadying him quickly before letting him go as if he’d been burned. Not seconds after he had released the man, Matt was in his face, teeth bared in the Daredevil snarl that had sent much braver people running for their lives.

“What the hell!?!” The man took a staggering step back, his back slamming into the support pillar behind him as he tried to put some distance between him and the devil. “What's this 'sposed to be?”

Daredevil moved, pinning the man against the pillar in the blink of an eye. He leaned in close, his voice barely a whisper as he spoke. “A little arachnid told me you’ve been picking fights with the dogs."

Predator tried to protest but a quick slam of his head to the stone pillar shut him up.

"Now, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to go home, pack up that costume, and forget you ever wore it.”

"And? What if I don’t?”

His question was met with a thoughtful hum, as if Daredevil was simply pondering the question.

Out of nowhere, he slammed Predator against the pillar once more, a loud crack ringing out.

Leaning in close, he hissed something far too quiet to hear. Whatever it was had Predator blanching, frantically shoving at the devil’s chest with all his strength.

Matt just grinned, a feral bearing of teeth. The action was designed to intimidate and by God, it worked.

Daredevil released his prey, allowing the man to stagger back a few steps until he hit the wall. Predator took a few seconds to gather his senses before he was off like a rabbit, scrambling away from the run-down warehouse.

With that dealt with, Matt turned.

A little ways away, Spidey sat crouched on the ground, trying to convince the dogs to accept some belly rubs from him.

Given that said dogs were snarling giants, straining to escape and just barely held back by only the chains around their necks, he wasn’t making much progress.

Matt found Deadpool over in the opposite corner of the room, cooing and speaking to something on the ground.

A step closer revealed it to be a rat.

A hulking, beefcake of a rat.

Such a creature was a staple in New York, as fearless as Daredevil himself. Which may explain its tolerance of the massive, masked human looking back at him. As Deadpool chattered to the rat, telling it all about his day, the creature simply stared at him, nose twitching.

Standing in the middle of the abandoned warehouse, listening to Spidey coo at the dogs and Deadpool monologue to the rodent, Matt was hit with the realization that these were the people he worked with every night to keep his city safe.

...

Dear lord, New York was screwed.

[sugaflare]

tami reviews

drama name : The Judge from Hell (2024)

season : 1

my rating : 9/10

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ah yes who doesn't like to see women committing violence and taking revenge on those who deserve it ? I'm a huge fan of it tbh. This is a story about Justitia, who is punished to go on earth and k word 20 unforgivable criminals and send them back to hell but she possesses the body of Kang Bitna who is also a judge who presides over the criminal cases. The story follows the journey of Kang Bitna who never gives a deserving verdict to the criminals and instead makes them feel exactly how they made their victims feel and it's just so satisfying ???? This also follows the story of officer Han Daon who's been suspicious of her since day 1 and tries his best to catch her red handed (spoiler they instead fall in love lmao). There's also the concept of how hell works with its demons and their ranks. So yeah if you like court dramas mixed with mysterious criminal activities and fantasy elements (literally my three fav genres combined ohmygawd this kdrama was made for me) I would definitely recommend this drama to you. For me personally, I LOVED the cast and the character development and their acting and the storyline and all the plot twists and the fluff and comedy in between (I still wish there was a plot twist at the end but it's okay not everything can be perfect) but yeah this is the type of drama that you can't help but binge watch and that's exactly what I did and I'm in love.

[void-ink-studios]

Traitorous Cockroach

I wrote that idea I had about Orbo!

It was fun, writing from a bastard's perspective. Orbo is simply the worst, unapologetically so. He's a narcissist, and I will not say sorry for writing him as such.

So enjoy Scarab putting him in his place!

Word Count: 4,100

When Orbo got to roll back out into the light for the first time in... what, 5,000 years, he thought he'd finally be allowed a bit of peace.

He thought he'd have his rad office back, he could find someone to get rid of this fucking snake, and he could spend the rest of eternity not thinking of two certain gods ever again.

He gave the Organizer nothing more than what was strictly necessary in terms of a farewell. He listened to the Judge prattle on about how they hoped Orbo had seen the error of his ways or whatever.

It was all worth it for when he'd get his office back.

Until the Organizer handed a piece of paper with a new room assignment.

"Demoted?!"

The Organizer gave no verbal reaction to the Star Core's indignation.

"Hold on, wait, I served my time! I want my office back!"

"Did you expect to be granted your old position back after what you were in trouble for in the first place? Do I need to go over everything you were found guilty of again? What were you honestly expecting?"

Orbo sputtered for a second, feeling himself shrink a moment at her harsh tone.

"Orbo, you stand before the Judge to answer for several egregious violations of Judgement Hall conduct and ethics. Organizer, please read the charges."

Orbo couldn't believe this was happening. Just a few days ago, he was about to get his buddy the Wishmaster back from whatever spell that bug put on him and now... Now he was standing in the Judgement Hall like some kind of criminal?!

"Yes, Judge. Orbo, you stand accused of abuse of Judgement Hall resources, repeated instances of abuse of power over subordinates, failure to respond to reported threats in a timely or appropriate manner, and inappropriate enactment of punishment outside of your authority and jurisdiction."

"Orbo, how do you explain these charges?"

"I... They're not true! None of that is true!"

"Is it, or is it not true you sent a High Auditor on missions meant to be handled by Interns and Low Auditors? These include cases of misattribution of Judgement Hall supplies and misuse of Judgement Hall time."

"W-Well, yes, I sent Scarab on those missions. But he was out of important missions to do!"

"The appropriate course of action would be to let Scarab rest if that were the case. Sending him out on such missions is a waste of his time, your time, the Judgement Hall's time, and is taking learning opportunities from new recruits, which has lead to an overall decrease in productivity in the lower branches of Auditors. Organizer, is this assessment accurate?"

"Yes Judge."

"That is one charge you have lied about. Do you wish to revise your previous statements? If you revise right now, I will not add perjury onto your charge list. Otherwise, we can continue down the list, and I will add a new charge of perjury for every single instance we find. So I will ask again. Orbo, how do you explain these charges?"

Orbo swallowed at the memory of his... interesting trial. He shook his head, looking back up to the Organizer, who seemed to be preoccupied reading something on the desk.

"But-"

"Not to mention your... substandard performance in the Archives. No, I can't grant you your previous position at this time. Perhaps if you show improvement, we can revisit this. But for now, you are being reassigned."

He couldn't believe this.

He was a god. He was older than most of the starry-eyed dolts in the pantheon, he had earned his position!

"Let's see... Hmm, no, you've been out of practice far too long to be an Auditor again... Let's see here... Ah, here's a place for you."

She handed him a piece of paper.

"...Compiler? As in... as in the guys who sort through those endless stacks of paperwork looking for discrepancies?" She couldn't be serious. She couldn't really be diminishing him to... to a paper pusher!

"Yes, a Compiler. You'd have no subordinates to terrorize, and it's one of the only jobs in my jurisdiction that you can't fail at badly enough to cause a crisis."

"But... But that's... That's almost the bottom of the barrel! I have Seniority over everyone in that office!"

"Yes, I'm sure they'll be impressed that such an old guard is joining them. If you don't like it, you can always continue where you left off in the Archives."

The door to the side of her slid open, the dusty smelling ozone seeping into the room.

"N-No! No, that won't be necessary, mate. Compiler it is then..."

She hummed, gesturing for the paper to be returned. Orbo silently obeyed, wincing as she brought the stamp down, and handed it back to him.

"Glad we have reached an agreement. Now then, you're to report to your new office immediately. You're dismissed."

Orbo's eyes widened as the door to her office opened.

"W-Wait!"

The Orgranizer shifted a few tired eyes at him.

"Is something the matter?"

He squirmed a little under her gaze, but took a deep breath.

"Could you do... something about this?"

He gestured to the snake currently sinking its teeth deep into the side of his head. He was thankful he had no blood to spill.

"I'm sorry but curses and the breaking of them are not part of my jurisdiction. You either need to resolve it with the one who cursed you, or take it through the official channels and file a request for the Judge."

"The Judge?!" The snake snarled, biting a bit harder, making him wince. "The Judge has a waiting list lightyears long!"

"Well then. Better file one as soon as your first break starts. You might want to get going."

And so, Orbo did.

He languished in the Compiler's office. It was as dreadfully boring as he imagined. Paperwork stacks a mile tall, replaced with a new one just as he nearly finished.

He wondered if his punishment ever actually ended.

And don't get him started on his... coworkers. Nothing special, most of them not even truly immortal. Many of them were just long-lived species on the intergalactic stage. Most of them didn't even have magic, not even innately. And none of them had a remotely interesting thought to share.

Several tried to chat, but none were even remotely cool enough to dignify with a response. Eventually, they got the hint and stopped trying.

One of them even had the audacity to try and pet the snake latched onto him. Called it cute.

Until one of them, finally, said something worth his attention.

"Guys! Guys you'll never guess what just happened!"

Orbo rolled his eyes as he continued working through his newest stack. The one currently disrupting the quiet was an odd little thing, an octopus looking creature, piloting some kind of robotic skeleton.

"What happened this time, did you finally catch your lunch thief?"

Nope, because that would be Orbo.

"No, that's still a bust. No, I saw Scarab! He was here, and he even said hi to me!"

Now they had his attention. He turned to look more at the excited alien. Wait... excited? About Scarab?

"No way! And you didn't tell us the Star Auditor was here? Glorm, I will tie your tentacles in a knot, I swear to Glob-"

"I didn't know! I literally just got back from delivering something to one of the managers, and he was just... There! Just leaving the Organizer's office!"

"And you're sure he said hi to you?"

"Yes! He asked where I was coming from and said to keep up the good work!"

No, this couldn't be right. This was the same Scarab, yes? The traitorous little cockroach, there was no way he was being spoken of with... awe, right? He must be mishearing the emotions in their voice.

"Sorry you had to experience that, mate" he decided to butt in.

The office went weirdly quiet. They were looking at him now, but with dumb confusion.

"Sorry? Why are you sorry?"

"If this is the same Scarab I remember, I can't imagine seeing him being pleasant. Not a cool bone in his body." Orbo shivered just thinking about it.

"Wait... You knew Scarab from back in the day? Back when he was the God Auditor?"

"Knew him? I was his boss."

"Is it true? Is it true that he was hand-picked by the Boss for defeating a Comic threat as a mortal?"

Orbo scoffed. "He got lucky. Wouldn't have been able to without that crystal he swiped from the Judgement Hall. Look, just take my word for it, you don't wanna be on his radar. Best to avoid him in my opinion."

With that, he turned back to his desk, satisfied.

"...Where have you been for the past, I don't know, eons?"

And he stopped again.

"Excuse me?"

"I mean... Scarab's awesome! He saved his home world, like, single handedly! As a mortal!"

"Like I said, he got lucky." How did these knuckleheads not get it yet?

"He was the most effective Auditor of all time! He's the Organizer's go-to!"

"Her personal enforcer if I remember correctly!"

"Wait, what?" When did that happen?

"He's captured almost every cosmic criminal sitting in the Neo Citadel!"

"He's an inspiration! He was mortal, and he managed to do all that! Gives me hope maybe I could do something amazing like that."

"Yeah, maybe when you finally remember which stamp goes on which form, we'll talk."

They all laughed with each other like they'd said something actually witty but... Orbo was just... stumped. How is Scarab this... well liked? What happened in the time he was gone? He thought he had everyone being on the same page as him.

There was nothing admirable about a cockroach.

Looks like this place really has gone mad.

He shoved it out of his mind for now, more focused on trying to get his office back than worry about what that skittering little creature was up to.

Until he heard about it again.

"I think Scarab's going to be hosting a seminar soon, right? Yeah, for the new Interns. Maybe they'd let some of us hang out in the back?"

And again.

"You hear Scarab took down the Star Leech? Can't imagine what that battle must've looked like. Wonder what he'll go after next."

And again.

"I saw Scarab out by the gardens a bit ago. I wanted to talk to him, but I think he was meditating or something. Looked peaceful, I might try it."

Okay, what was happening?

Back when he was in charge, Orbo practically had to pull teeth to get Scarab in the Judgement Hall. Now it seemed he was here every other minute. And people didn't seem to have a problem with it. How? How did no one see the issue here?

Something was off. Something had changed. But what?

A particularly hard bite to his back prompted a potential answer.

Prismo.

Prismo had to have done something, there's no other reason Scarab had such free reign.

He was still baffled by the Wishmaster's behavior. How could someone so... so cool fall for such a repulsive little worm? He acted like... like he loved him or something.

He gagged at the thought.

Prismo had to be swaying the pantheon, that was the only explanation.

If Orbo had known that the mercy he granted the bug would blow up this badly, he'd have just chucked him in the furnace and been done with it.

Why hadn't he? He'd finally gotten what he wanted for eons, and he just... Why did Prismo stick out for him? It still made no sense.

At first, he'd been amused. Sure, let the Wishmaster "mentor" Scarab for a bit. Prismo had an annoying habit of trying to see the best in everyone. But, spend a long enough time with Scarab, and that'd be his last ally gone. He waited for the day he got contacted by Prismo telling him he changed his mind, he wanted this gross bug out of the Time Room, and Orbo would be the hero.

Except... the call never came.

A day past.

Then a week.

Then a few months.

Nothing.

A part of Orbo worried Scarab might've finally killed the Wishmaster, but that would've been instant news. No, Prismo was probably okay...

Maybe he was just too nice a guy to say anything? Afterall, he knew first hand how awful Scarab was to deal with at the best of times, much less when stuck with the one entity he hates the most.

He really should apologize to Prismo for that one.

And yet, when he showed up, Prismo didn't take the out! Despite him witnessing Scarab's creepy behavior, he was on the ceiling for Glob's sake, but Prismo seemed none to care! He got angry at him! Him! Scarab must've been saying something. Something to turn their beloved Wishmaster against them.

How else would you explain that terrifying shadow he turned into?

Orbo was getting tired of hearing about Scarab. He even saw him, once, out in the hall. Didn't even acknowledge him.

How dare he.

"GUYS!"

His manager (ugh) barged into the office, clearly excited about something. Everyone jumped as he banged the door open, a piece of paper clutched in his hand.

"What what what?"

"Guess who just got invited to a party at the Time Cube?!"

"No way!"

"What?! Jealous!"

"Aw man, lucky!"

Orbo sat there. Baffled. Prismo's hosting... parties again? And he wasn't invited???

Wait, since when was Prismo's parties invitation based?

"I know, right? I guess I really made an impression on Scarab! He got me invited! I can't believe I get to party with both Wishmasters! Somebody pinch me! I'll put in a good word for you guys, maybe I can get Scarab to come in one day!"

Wait wait wait wait wait.

"Did you just say... BOTH Wishmasters? I thought Prismo was the only one?"

Now they looked at him like he has three heads.

"Wow, you really missed a lot, Orbo. Yeah, Scarab's a Wishmaster, part of the time. After a string of big cases, the Boss gives him some time to be Wishmaster alongside Prismo. Sounds like a lot of work to me, but it seems to work for the both of them."

"Oh, it works alright. They get to smooch all they want."

"Carsinda! We don't gossip like that!"

"Since when? You know it's true, it's not gossip if everybody knows."

Okay, now Orbo's brain was broken.

Prismo and Scarab? Together?

The thought of anyone wanting Scarab like that... to say it made him retch was an understatement.

And here he thought Prismo had decent taste.

Although, from what he's heard about a connection he had to some... mortal, maybe that was an overestimation.

This entire place has gone mad, that's the only explanation. Things have fallen apart without him. People have forgotten exactly what Scarab is. What he always will be.

A dirty little traitorous cockroach.

And dirty little cockroaches don't get to win. They don't get to hang out in the most powerful spot in the multiverse, in the good graces of the most powerful gods in the pantheon. Not when awesome, true gods like him is left to languish in a meaningless office job!

No, they belong in the dirt. Preferably under a boot.

Hmm...

Maybe it was time to pay his old pals a visit. Just to clear the air.

-------------------------------------

It wasn't hard, slipping away from the office. And getting to the Time Room from the Judgement Hall was simple enough.

But... woah. Seems the Time Room's... changed a bit.

He lingered in the doorway, just taking it in, swallowing down winces and yelps from his "buddy's" little interruptions.

There were plants everywhere. Vines, ferns, flowers, even a willow tree. How they were there, he had no idea. He thoughts things couldn't really... live? Not in the Time Room at least. And yet, it looked like a terrarium in here, with strange glowing flowers to boot.

Crystals wrapped in gold filigree cast a soft light, contrasting against the strange clouds swirling at the ceiling. Throw rugs covered a large chunk of the floor, a desk against a wall, and many shelves climbing up and down the previously featureless surfaces of the Time Room. The only wall spared of strange shelves and photos was the TV Wall it would seem.

Well, at least the hot tub was still there, sitting underneath the previously mentioned willow tree. Something familiar.

An elaborate nest of pillows and blankets nearly covered up and comfortable looking seating area, so all encompassing it took up a huge corner of the room.

And it was there that he saw... them.

Prismo, holding Scarab against his chest, sitting on the couch.

Orbo had to blink a few times to process what he was seeing.

Prismo. Was off the wall. He looked strange, not just because he wasn't just a shadow anymore. His legs looked different, he appeared to be made out of gas, he had stars orbiting him, it all looked... wrong. That wasn't his Prismo.

Scarab looked pretty much as hideous as he remembered. There wasn't even the decency to wear his mask. Just his horrid face, out for all to see.

The cockroach seemed to be asleep, thankfully, tucked in close to Prismo's side as the Wishmaster browsed the TV Wall. Scarab made those odd chittering noises as he slept, mandibles twitching ever so slightly. Prismo seemed to have taken to idly petting Scarab's head. It was... sugary sweet.

Wait a second... Were those....?

Yep. Antenna. Ghostly blue antenna, but antenna none the less. Prismo curled his finger around one and dragged up, earning himself a content sigh from the bug in his arms.

How in Glob's name did he get his antenna back? He made sure they were gone, he watched them get cut from his scalp, he tossed them into the incinerator himself!

Wait, if his antenna were back did that mean...? No... No, he couldn't have those back...

The longer he stared, the more confused he became. What had happened to this pantheon?

Scarab's antenna twitched. They shivered, perking upright, making the cockroach rouse from his slumber. A nervous chitter fell from his mouth.

"Hmm? Something the matter, Lovebug?"

"...I know you're there" Scarab said, voice flat.

Well, now or never.

Orbo rolled on in, smiling.

"Ya got me. Guess who got out of prison!"

Scarab sat up, his eyes narrowed but expression blank. Prismo frowned.

"What are you doing here, Orbo?"

"What, I can't visit my favorite Wishmaster after 5,000 years? Like what you've done with the place."

Neither entity seemed impressed.

"Get to the point" Prismo growled.

Woah, tough crowd. He yelped a bit as the snake sunk its teeth into the top of his head. He missed Prismo's little smirk.

"Just wanted to confirm some... rumors I heard around the office. Scarab's Wishmaster now?"

"I am. Part time, at least."

"Hmm. So. You finally got all you wanted, Scrabs?"

"You don't have permission to call me that."

Orbo's head throbbed. This little...

"Oh you skittering little-"

The snake on his head seemed to get a bit bigger. A bit heavier, now biting over and over. Prismo had stood up at some point, leering angrily over Orbo.

"I thought I made it clear you aren't welcome in the Time Room, Orbo. I thought that maybe the Archive might've given you time to think or something. Maybe realize what a scum bag you were. But I guess not."

Scarab watched from the sidelines, an even expression on his horrid little face.

"Oh shove off you sham of a Wishmaster! You and I both know that he wouldn't have none of this if it weren't for you! He's a leech. And you're just letting him cling to your belly."

"That's it, get out-"

Prismo stopped as a hand tapped his shoulder. Scarab had stood up and walked to stand beside the Wishmaster.

"Lovebug?"

Scarab took a deep breath.

"Let me handle this, Prismo."

The dream's eyes widened, looking between Scarab and Orbo concerned.

"Are you sure...?"

"Completely. It's clear he has something to say to me. I say let him say his piece. And I'll say mine. And then I kick him out."

The two shared a look with each other, a silent conversation bouncing back and forth between them. Prismo nodded, taking a step back to observe.

Scarab turned back to Orbo.

"You've got something you want to say to me, Orbo? Now's the time. Go ahead. Nothing will leave this room. You've never held back before."

Orbo blinked. Scara had never looked this... calm before. He saw the traces of wish magic thrumming across his shell.

"You're nothing. You know that, right Scrabs? You're just a dirty little cockroach. This life ain't meant for the likes of you."

"Oh come now. Is that the best you've got?"

Rage boiled into Orbo's heart.

"You know what I said was right. This? All this? It's all Prismo. You'd be nothing without him. I'd have tossed you in the incinerator without a second thought if not for him. Just like I did with your antenna and your wings."

He saw Scarab stiffen a bit, but his expression remained unchanged. Prismo seemed to be boiling, but the cockroach seemed to be keeping him at bay.

"Yeah, there's that little mystery solved for you, mate. I tossed your antenna the second you left. I kept your wings in a drawer for a few centuries. Then I tossed those too. It's what creatures like you are meant for. You're an ugly little novelty. And if it wasn't for him trying to get some, you'd be nothing. You're built on nothing but luck and riding on someone else's coattails. You and I both know it.

"I'd do it all again. I'd just be better at training you to keep your mouth shut."

Scarab was still. Silent.

Yeah, that's right. You know I'm right, you cockroach.

"Are you done?"

Orbo's scowl deepened. He didn't step down, he never would to the likes of Scarab.

"Seems like it. You know... Everything you said probably would've... I'm not sure. Devastated me? If it were a few thousand years ago, I'd have believed everything you said. I still believe some of it. I truly believe you'd have done everything you did to me, again and again. Even after one million years in the Archive, you would still see me as nothing but a skittering little insect at your feet."

Scarab opened his elytra, letting his false wings carry him up into a relaxed hover, above Orbo.

"But... Well, we're not 5,000 years ago. I lived. I carried on. You languished. I know where you're stationed, Orbo. I know all you have is words. Empty words. You can't help but recall what happened all those eons ago, because you can't do anything except revel in the past."

Scarab took a moment to examine his talons before looking back down at the Star Core.

"I know what you are, Orbo."

He lowered himself, leaning his face in close.

"You're empty. You're sad and empty. There's just... nothing but hollow ego inside you."

Scarab raised himself back up, his expression almost softening.

"That's the difference between us, Orbo. You're nothing but ego, so what are you when you sit at the bottom of the hierarchy? I'm not interested in your politics. I'm not interested in your games. I know you only came here to play. But you're the only one at the table, Orbo. You're playing by yourself."

Scarab let himself drift into a relaxed position, even reaching down to pet the snake's head softly.

"I don't forgive you, for what you did to me. But I will thank you. Unfortunately, you have nothing else I want. Perhaps I'll forgive you, in a millennia or two. Honestly, I hope all the best for you. But... above all else..."

Scarab landed on the ground again, hands folded in front of him.

"Above all else, I pity you Orbo. I. Pity. You. Now then, this has been a good chat. Goodbye."

And with a snap, Orbo was gone. Dumped right back in the compiler's office. With nothing but a hollow anger and confusion.

-----------------------------

Scarab released a shuddering breath. Prismo was by his side in an instant, cooing and kissing the side of his head and neck, nuzzling his cheek.

"You did so good, Lovebug... Glob, I'm so proud of you..."

Scarab nodded. His hands trembled, but he made sure to get a good hold of Prismo's. He turned his head to nuzzle back. He let the Wishmaster drag him back to the couch, wrapping around him in a loving embrace, murmuring sweet nothings.

Scarab thought hard about what just happened. What he said.

That was hard. That was terrifying. But...

He purred into Prismo's sweet touched. He looked all around their little paradise, their home. He was safe here. He was loved here.

Above all, he was free here.

[frostgears]

We Who Are Far From Home, ch. 4: Lyric 2

It needed information.

Not long after its arrival in this body and this world, its maker and owner (the artisan Coda) had been bound by an archon of the divine "TO CREATE NO MORE BODIES BUT ONE, AND ONLY TO SERVICE HER CREATIONS TO THE BEST OF HER ABILITIES AND AT HER OWN EXPENSE". Coda had just the one workshop, here in the summer capital, the same city that held the Academy. Unfortunately, most of Coda's dolls would be with their owners and their households: nobles, generals, very successful merchants… all people that could afford to relocate south to the warmer winter capital during the cold months.

But there were a few owners that did not move with the seasons; there was one in particular that was almost always home. But it would need a welcome gift, and that meant a trip to the market.

Specifically, the cramped warren of roofed-over alleyways where the fish market became the drug market. It was not Lyric's favorite place in the city, and the coterie of large men that lounged about convenient doorways did little to improve it.

"Ehhh, what you need, girlie?"

"Meltspice," it told him, declining to correct his perception of its gender. "Unblended, if you please."

"Yeah, we ain't got that. Got some lively fuckin' greenwine in from the Sandgate, though; that'll get you out of your head just as well."

"I can't serve cactus wine at a society dinner," it told him, "I'd be scrubbing various fluids out of gowns for a week. If you don't have it, please get out of my way and I will find someone that does."

"Ehhh, you got a mouth on you, girlie."

"Yes, I have a knife on me, too."

It is hard to outstare a doll, and even harder still when you don't know you're trying to outstare a doll.

"Creepy bitch," he said. "Not worth the trouble." The big man spat, and wandered off down the alley.

Another of the big men sidled up to it in short order. "Hey, beautiful. I heard you might be looking for fine spices."

"Your hearing is good. I am. The pure stuff?" it asked.

"Pricey. Sure you don't want blended? Little thing like you?"

"Not for me. A very exacting mistress. She'd know, I'd catch all the hells; no repeat business, if you understand me."

"Ah, fair enough. Come with me."

It looked him up and down. Living with Coda had rubbed off on it; it had been no great judge of character in the world before this one, where it dimly remembered an uneventful life where it didn't have to be. Here, it had watched its artificer mistress navigate the dodgier parts of the city, such as the criminal underworld and the oft equally criminal aristocracy; it had learned when to curtsy, when to flatter, and when to run; and it read no particular threat from this man's relaxed body language. It had also learned that its slight frame concealed machinery of impressive power, capable of impressing this man's sternum right through his spine if it absolutely needed to do so.

So it nodded assent and followed the man into a slightly grubby tavern, where the man's associates laid out several bowls with orange-red powders before it. It cleaned its fingers with its kerchief and rubbed a tiny pinch of the proffered meltspice between thumb and forefinger, finding it as Coda had taught it to feel for, neither gritty nor oily, but fine and freely flowing. But the only true test for meltspice was the nose.

"May I?" it asked.

The man nodded vigorously, eager to move the purchase process along.

It took a tiny, delicate sniff of the stuff. Lyric's alchemical sense of smell was somewhat patchy; earthy, meaty, and pungent scents were largely beyond it, although it could appreciate most flowers and fine tea easily. This was somewhere in the middle of its range, and it was strong.

Coda told it often that compliments cost nothing. Another lesson that it had only internalized once ripped from its old body and its old world, where it had little time for politeness. It put flattery into its monotone voice as best it could, and said, "That's really quite good. You know your product. Shall we talk price?"

One of the men seemed quite pleased by this response. The expert, no doubt. It favored him with a polite smile and suggested an opening number.

They settled on seventy for a few tens of grams in a brown waxed paper bag, which wasn't cheap, but not quite extortionate. It would have to soak the expense.

"Hey, you're a doll, aren't ya?"

"Yes," it said, tensioning several internal springs just in case. "What is it to you?"

"Oh, nothin'. Just, is it true dolls can't melt? Or take dreamdust? Or get drunk? Or even smoke?"

"That's all true." It couldn't do any of those things. Dolls didn't have those kinds of vices; they were, depending on one's attitude, either inherently free from them, or not permitted even those escapes. It had observed that dolls could cultivate other different, more abstruse vices, but nothing so readily comprehensible as a drug habit, and generally not obvious except to other dolls.

"Hah." The man crossed his arms and chuckled. "So the boss wasn't jokin' when he said that a doll could be trusted to stay out of the merchandise and maybe he should replace the newbie with one. Nobody tell him he was right, eh? You're not gonna take our jobs, right, dolly?"

"I do not have the muscles for it." It extended one arm, moved a linkage in a way that would have curled a human's bicep, made a show of patting where the curl would have been, shrugged. "But I look better in this uniform than you would, so please don't try to take my job, and we shall call it even."

That got a laugh. Lyric curtsied, made its exit at a brisk pace before any of the men could take insult.

It crossed the city at the same brisk pace. Among the neat rows of tall, narrow brownstone houses where many of the summer capital's pettier nobles and wealthier merchants made their homes, Lyric slipped down a narrow alley to the servants' side entrance of one particular brownstone, and rapped its porcelain knuckles on the wooden door.

The doll that opened the door was similar enough in height, build, and features to Lyric that she could have been its cousin, if not its sister.

"How may I help— Oh. Hello, Lyric. I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon. Is Mistress Coda with you?"

"That's the trouble, Cobalt," it said. "May I come in?"

"Unfortunately, my own mistress is indisposed…"

"Taken care of," it said, presenting the brown waxed paper bag.

Cobalt nodded. "I expect she'll be feeling better momentarily."

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