#also the white reacting with the pencil to give blue was something i was not expecting at all so ignore that

[misha-69innit]

[soulmate-game]

Can you do a prompt of Marinette being the daughter of the Joker and Harley but Harley left him before Marinette was born and when Joker found out about his daughter He decided to kidnap Marinette so she can become like him (Ace chemicals) (Daminette)

Woot, my first ask in a while! Let’s see how I can do this oddly specific ask that reminds me of a fic that might actually exist but tbh I’ve read so many fanfics idk if my brain is remembering right

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette knew Sabine and Tom weren’t her biological parents. She had known ever since she was eight, when her mother by blood visited her for the first time, sat her down, and explained everything. Including, but not limited to, her disastrously toxic past relationship, her new girlfriend, and her recent success with long term rehab (unofficial rehab that mostly consisted of illegal anti-hero actions, but hey if it worked it worked).

Marinette understood. Well no, she really didn’t since she was only eight, but she understood that her mom— that Harley— was genuine. She had always had a knack for emotions and telling when people were sincere or not. And Harley really was regretful about not being in her life beforehand, and was serious about wanting to be part of her life now that her own was mostly sorted out.

So Marinette was not surprised when Harley really did stick it out. When Harley cooed over Marinette copying her hairstyle to show her support of her biological mom, when Harley never failed to call at least once a week even if she was in jail for punching some asshole or another. Harley never stayed arrested long anymore, she was usually found to be on the right side of the moral scale more and more often so the police didn’t bother keeping her locked up anymore. Through the years, Marinette always looked forward to her mom’s calls. Looked forward to being lulled to sleep by one crazy story or another from her mother’s past. Everything was nice. Perfect, even, for a while.

A thump sounded from her balcony, one late night when Marinette was thirteen. Blinking, the dark haired girl furrowed her brows. Who would be on her balcony? Cautiously walking towards the trap door leading to it, grasping her metal pencil holder as a weapon (she remembered all of her Mom’s stories about break-ins and random attacks back in Gotham), the teen strained her ears. Akuma attacks were only a few months old now, but she had already become in high alert for any sign of Hawkmoth or his victims. As per usual, Marinette’s paranoia began to kick in. Did Hawkmoth already figure her out? Was he here for her earrings? Would she be able to fight him?

She gently pushed up the trap door, catching a glimpse of black leather. Huh? Marinette narrowed her eyes, confused. Was it Chat? He should have been on patrol, on the other side of the city. What was he doing visiting her?

Suddenly the trap door yanked the rest of the way open, making Marinette yelp as the handle for it rugged away from her fingers. And there, backlit by the pure blue-white moonlight, was Not Chat Noir. It was Catwoman, in all her skintight black leather glory, grinning at her before pushing her cat-eye goggles up to the top of her head and crouching down by the trap door’s entrance, balancing only on the pads of her feet.

“Well hello there~” the woman purred. “So you’re the cute little kitten Harley is so secretive about. Nice to finally meet you,” the woman held out a hand, sending Marinette a sweet, if mysterious, smile. For a while, the pigtailed girl only stared before a squeal of excitement left her throat, leaving very little room for any doubt as to her bloodline. A large smile curled over Marinette’s lips, leaving her beaming widely at the catlike woman on her balcony.

“Auntie Selina! Mom’s told me so much about you! Come in, come in, come in! I’ll sneak some macaroons up for you. Or do you prefer croissants? What’s your favorite flavor? Are you really dating Batman? Oh my goodness, that necklace is so lovely! Did you steal it?”

Selina could only chuckle fondly at the word vomit, letting the smaller girl drag her down the trap door and into her very… pink room. Looking around, Selina was once again slapped with just how similar this kid was to her outgoing friend. Marinette clearly had no shame in indulging in the things she liked, such as the color pink and anything regarding fashion. But there were other things amongst the girliness of the room, like the posters of Jagged Stone and the training dummy half-sticking out of her closet door. There were a few ornamental knives hung up behind her computer, seemingly just for decoration although Selina could see that they were definitely battle ready and sharpened. A small mallet, clearly a miniature replica of her mother’s own signature weapon, leaned up against the side of the girl’s laundry basket. But then there was Marinette’s mannequin, which was surrounded by meticulously cut pieces of cloth and had other pieces pinned to it strategically. Marinette clearly had the same professionalism and love for her chosen career that had so completely defined Harley in the Time Before Joker. The same genius intellect hiding in those deceptively cheerful bluebell eyes. And for the first time, though not for the last to be sure, Selina found herself thoroughly relieved that it seemed Marinette had inherited very little from her father.

Except, as she would learn from stories Harley told her later, an apparent affinity for chaos.

“I’m not that picky, kitten. But I’m not that hungry, so don’t go too out of your way,” Selina decided to just react the same way she did with Harley’s rambles, and answer one question at a time. “Also, I am actually dating Bruce Wayne. But, if you promise not to tell anyone—“ she waited for Marinette’s eager nod before continuing casually, “— the two are maybe not as mutually exclusive as many think,” Selina finished with a conspiratorial wink. “No, I actually did not steal this necklace. Bruce has been adamant in trying to curb me of my thieving habit by buying me almost everything I so much as glance at sideways. It’s sweet. Naive, because I like stealing for the fun of it, but sweet.”

Marinette giggled, bouncing in place happily. She loved a bit of innocent gossip like this. “Is Momma Ivy ever gonna visit? I don’t think Mom told her much about me yet, and I still gotta give her the shovel talk!” the fierce look that overcame Marinette’s face made Selina laugh again. Oh yes, definitely her mother’s daughter.

“Pam has been trying to sneak over, but the laws regarding Metahumans in Paris suddenly got much stricter a few months back and have caused some problems. You wouldn’t happen to know what happened, would you?” Selina did not miss when her seemingly innocent question caused her niece to close off almost instantly. Bluebell eyes took on a familiar guardedness, and scanned her with the same soul-searching intensity that Harley had when she was channeling her Psychiatrist side. Selina found herself in a slightly concerning spot though—

Because she couldn’t predict Marinette at all. She was left to simply stand there as Marinette searched for some unidentifiable thing in her eyes, completely unable to read the younger girl’s face and with no idea of what to expect. The side effect of having chaos so thoroughly entwined in both of her biological parents, she supposed.

“Nope, no idea.”

Selina knew that was a lie, but knew equally as well that she would not be getting a better answer anytime soon. So, she let it go and the two of them once again dipped into innocent chatter.

Later that night, when Selina left and the sun threatened to rise at any minute, Tikki flew up from her hiding spot under Marinette’s pillow to land on her holder’s shoulder. Marinette giggled and looked over at her little friend.

“Tikki?”

“Yes, Mari?”

“Why was I chosen to be your holder?” She asked suddenly, flopping back into her bed and staring at her ceiling. The little goddess hummed, smiling knowingly before flying down to cuddle in the crook of Marinette’s neck.

“Because you are born from luck itself. Even when bad things happen, you have the luck and determination to get out just fine, and stronger than before. And despite the destruction and anarchy in your blood, you have the willpower to reign it in and keep control of yourself. That’s all order really is, Marinette. The decision to take all the chaos and madness around us, and make it make sense. Make it do something good. And that’s a large part of who you are, I could feel it in your soul the moment we first met.”

Marinette closed her eyes, biting the inside of her cheek. “What if I lose control?”

“... You’ll just have to get it back. It’ll be hard, but as long as you have people to support you, you will be able to do it. You aren’t evil, Marinette,” the small God seemed to sense the true question her holder was asking, and did her best to soothe the doubt the girl felt. “Just remember the reasons you fight against chaos. Remember everyone you love, and you’ll be okay. And you have me, I’ll always help you.”

“... thank you, Tikki.”

—*—*—*—*—*

“He’s going to find out, Mom.”

“No he won’t, don’t be silly! I’ve been very careful about hiding you from him, Nettie-pie.”

“Mom… I just have a bad feeling. I don’t think we can hide who I am from him. If he sees me, I think he’ll know.”

The phone went silent.

“If he hurts you, I’ll kill him. If I was crazy about him, Sugar, then I’m head over heels for you. Not even he can stop me from caving his skull in if he tries his usual tricks with you.”

“... My plane leaves soon, I’ll talk to you when I land. And mom?”

“Yeah, honeycake?”

“I love you.”

—*—*—*—*—*

It was uncanny just how often Marinette’s hunches were right. Her intuition was something to behold, truly, because it only took three days in Gotham before Joker snatched her right out of her room at Harley and Ivy’s apartment. At least Marinette had sixteen by then, so she had had enough experience as a hero in Paris and with generally unpredictable situations and people who were absolutely nuts for her to not immediately panic. Too much, anyway.

Because there was definitely a little panic there.

See, Marinette knew herself inside out by then. After her own battle with her toxic feelings towards Adrien and doing her best to heal from those before she turned out like her mom, she knew she was by no means mentally indestructible. Mental illness ran the high risk of being inherited, and Marinette was well aware that her own personality was scarily similar to her mother’s at times. She got attached quickly, felt affection and love for others very strongly and, as she found with Adrien, could easily become obsessive if she didn’t watch herself. At least Harley was the perfect person to help with that, and Marinette was serious about helping herself too. She did everything she could to keep an eye on her mental health and keep her behavior in check so she didn’t do anything too unhealthy with her relationships again.

But she knew, she knew she had a soft spot for family. She got attached too easily. And being in the same room as her biological father, despite being tied up by her hands and feet and knowing just how many unforgivable things he had done in his life, Marinette felt vulnerable. She didn’t want to hurt him, despite everything. She still loved him, despite every reason not to, despite her first meeting with him being with him shoving chloroform over her face and hogtying her to a metal chain dangling over a vat of acid.

Geez, she’d need more than just her mom as a therapist after this for sure. Even if her mom had a PH.D, Marinette felt like she’d need several psychiatrists to sort through her emotional turmoil right then and make sense of any of it.

Marinette licked her lips, aware that the only kindness that Joker gave his daughter was sparing her from the discomfort of being gagged.

“Don’t,” Marinette said, surprising herself with the amount of steel she was able to put into her voice. Somehow, she managed to make the single word sound more like an order than a plead. “Joker, put me—“

“Ah-Ah-Ah!” The clown walked over, tutting and waving his finger in the air in almost playful admonishment. He gave her a dramatically fake pout. “Don’t you know it’s disrespectful to refer to your father by his first name?” Neither of them mentioned that Joker was definitely not his real name. They both knew the point was moot. “Say it with me now— ‘Daddy dearest, I am more than willing to be dunked in acid for you,’ go ahead, say it.”

Marinette’s jaw clenched. Familial love or not, she would not tolerate being ridiculed like that. She dealt with enough ridicule when she was fourteen and fifteen during school, before she put Liar Rossi in her place. She had spent the past three years as a hero in charge of the war against Hawkmoth, in charge of protecting all of Paris from an emotional terrorist.

And gee, wasn’t that what Joker was, too? Sure, he was a terrorist in the classic meaning of the word as well, but he was nothing if not a skilled manipulator. He knew the human mind just as well as Harley or any other psychiatrist did, he just used his knowledge for different means. He had emotionally abused Harley for years, he emotionally abused and manipulated people all across gotham on a daily basis. He was just another Hawkmoth, but with more physical violence in place of magic.

With these thoughts strengthening her resolve, Marinette narrowed her eyes at the man who donated half of her DNA. She let her anger boil into her irises, hitting him with one of the few traits she knew she inherited from him.

Her ability to intimidate others on the tip of a hat.

“No,” she growled back at him. She took a deep breath. It had taken her a while, but she refused to be ashamed of who she was regardless of her blood relation. She would have no problem using the very things she inherited from Joker against him. She might have gotten most of Harley’s personality, she might have inherited her mother’s habit of falling in love hard, fast, and obsessively, but she also had Joker’s defiance. His bone-deep inability to be stopped from doing exactly whatever the fuck he wanted.

And then, there were Marinette’s own traits. The ones that were completely her own, developed over her life organically. Like her refusal to bow down to bullies, her creativity, her ability to take even the most chaotic situation and see some sort of balance and sanity in it that she could use to her advantage.

That she WOULD use to her advantage. The shadows she saw move out of the corner of her eye gave her the chance to do exactly that, she just needed to buy a few more seconds. Just a few more seconds.

“Excuse me?” Joker growled right back, his own intimidation, honed over more years than Marinette had been alive and thus much more potent than her own, reading its ugly head as he stalked towards her. His face was pulled down into an ugly snarl, his shoulders tensed and back straight as he glared right at her. From his spot on the metal walkway, he was easily able to reach over the railing and grab her chin in one pale, viciously strong hand. “I think you’re misunderstanding something here, little Marionette. I’m your father. Half of your life came directly from ME. That makes you my puppet. You exist to follow my orders,” his right grip suddenly let go, leaving behind the beginnings of a bruise as his entire demeanor changed from angry to cheerful. He spread his arms as if gesturing to the whole chemical plant victoriously, and an unnaturally large smile curved over his lips and bared yellowing teeth at her. “But that’s okay. I’ll forgive you this time, you haven’t learned any better yet. That’s why we’re here. We need to cleanse you of all those icky bad habits you’ve learned up until now, all you need is a little,” he bounced in place with a wicked smirk to illustrate his next words— “jumpstart. A little acid goes a long way to enlightenment you know, you’ll see my side of things in no time. And with my blood in you, you’ll make a better sidekick than that idiot Harley ever did. I can sense it, you’ve got a real talent for Chaos in you, it’s exciting, Heheeeheheee! Now then, we should probably speed things along before our family reunion is cut short. Hang in there, my little Marionette,” the man actually had the gall to spin in place while humming a tune cheerfully before all but dancing over to the lever that held Marinette’s length of chain in the air over the vat of chemicals below her. “Everything will clear up in that little head of yours in just a second!”

There! Right as Joker pulled the switch to lower her into the bubbling vat underneath her, Marinette was able to finish untying her hands. She couldn’t contain a small yelp as gravity flung her body forward, leaving her upside down on the chain for a brief moment. That was when the chain started lowering rapidly, and Marinette was barely able to rip the rope off of her ankles in time to swing off of it and onto the metal walkway that came up right next to the giant metal container of liquid death and insanity. Joker had barely enough time to shout in rage before the windows near the ceiling shattered, admitting the city’s vigilantes themselves. Batman, Nightwing, Red Robin, Red Hood, Robin, and evening Black Bat all landed on the same metal platform above Marinette’s head that Joker was still on, buying the teen time to start running. But she didn’t go towards the exit right away, instead heading right up the stairs into the thick of the fight. Robin briefly separated from where Joker was managing to hold his own, goons flooding from side doors to inhibit the heroes in their attempt to bring their boss down.

The katana-using vigilante kept one eye on Marinette the whole time, suspicious of why the girl would come back up if not to help her father. But that wasn’t what she did, instead she flipped and kicked and punched her way through the quickly growing sea of Joker thugs until she reached a small pink purse that had been abandoned near the lever that had nearly sent her into liquid insanity. Three thugs surrounded her right as she snatched the purse up and slung it over her shoulder, but Robin barely had the chance to head over before she was heaving the men, who were all easily three times her size, over her shoulder and was slamming elbows into soft spots and the side of her hand into pressure points. By the time Robin got to her side, all three men were unconscious and bound to wake up in utter agony.

Marinette glanced up, getting ready to haul Robin over her shoulder as well before she realized who he was. She let her shoulders relax just a tick, sighing in relief before returning her eyes to scanning their surroundings. She shot him a brief grin.

“Good thing my adoptive mother, Mom, Momma Ivy, and Auntie Selina all made sure I knew how to take down a small army on my own, huh?” She asked rhetorically before they were both unceremoniously dragged back into the giant brawl.

—*—*—*—*—*

“Nettie-pie!”

“Marigold!”

Harley and Pamela Quinzel-Isley shoved down anyone and everyone who dared block their direct path to their daughter. The girl of the hour stood next to the bat clan, a shock blanket held tightly around her shoulders as she did her best to finish her statement to both the vigilantes and Commissioner Gordon.

“You untied yourself… from a ship-grade knot in high quality rope… with a phone charm?” They heard Gordon ask incredulously, to which Marinette could only give a lopsided smile. That was when her mom and stepmom crashed into her, enveloping her in a nearly suffocating hug.

“Gah— mom— momma Ivy—“ Marinette flailed in their arms for a bit before finally getting her head free and continuing her statement as if she didn’t have two of the most dangerous women in the city still giving her a bone crushing hug. “That’s better. Yes, Commissioner. You see, I realized when I was in the car with Joker, while I was pretending to still be unconscious, that one of the charms on my phone had pretty sharp corners that I could use like a serrated edge if I had enough time. So I carefully detached it from my phone, and held it in my palm. It took almost an hour, but once Joker noticed I was awake I kept him talking so that he didn’t notice what I was doing even as he tied me up to that chain. Really, it’s just lucky that I was able to get it worn down in time,” Marinette rubbed the back of her neck with a nervous chuckle. “But regardless, I think Batman and his partners,” she nodded to the listening vigilantes just to the side of her. “Were close enough that I would have been caught anyway, I just wanted to make sure they had less work to do. The sooner I freed myself, the sooner ‘Daddy Dearest,’” she grimaced as she mockingly used the same term Joker had tried to get her to say earlier that night. “Could go back behind bars where he belongs.”

“Oh my little Nettie-cake,” Harley cried, finally pulling back from the hug long enough to wipe her cheeks. It was clear that she had been crying for a while, and her colorful pigtails were mussed and tangled from where she must have been tugging on them in worry. “You were right. I’m so sorry, I never should have let you come to Gotham when I knew he was out of Arkham.”

Marinette was quick to shake her head frantically, pulling her arms out of Ivy’s hold so she could grasp Harley’s shoulders firmly. “No. No, Mom, I’m fine! And besides, we knew I couldn’t stay secret forever. I really like staying with you and Momma Ivy! Everything turned out fine though, and he’s headed back to Arkham. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, Nettle,” Pam argued, distracting herself by running her hands through Marinette’s bangs. She had only known the girl for two years, but that was more than long enough for her to consider the teenager as her own. “He took you right out from under our noses. You were supposed to be safe in our home, and he still got to you. That’s not okay. We weren’t able to protect you like we should have been. Maybe you should go back to Paris early.”

“What?! No way!” Marinette argued, eyes wide. “This is the first time I’ve been able to ever visit you guys in Gotham, I’m not letting some psycho sperm donor keep me from enjoying time with my family! I came here knowing full well that it was dangerous. I’m not gonna just run away after one bad experience.”

Harley snorted, and then devolved into uncontrollable giggles. “Heh— psycho sperm donor. Good one, sugar!”

Marinette smiled and rolled her eyes good naturedly at her mom’s usual immature antics. Seeing as Gordon had walked away muttering to himself a short while ago, Marinette pulled herself the rest of the way away from her moms and turned to the vigilantes. Without a second’s pause, she bowed to them just like her Maman Sabine taught her.

“Thank you for helping save me. I know it’s probably a shock that I’ve been kept secret from you guys all this time, but I hope you don’t lump me in with the likes of the green-haired half of my DNA. I’m staying with my Moms in their apartment, if you guys decide to patrol by our place like I suspect, I’ll leave some baked goods and coffee out for you on our patio. It’s the least I can do for you all after tonight. And don’t be too hard on Auntie Selina. Me and Mom swore her to secrecy, even from you guys.”

Batman jerked a little at the mention of Catwoman’s real name, jaw twitching for a second. Behind his cowl, his eyes narrowed. Marinette laughed, easily reading his body language and expression.

“She never told me who you are, but she didn’t exactly hide it either. It was easy to put the last pieces together on my own. But don’t worry, SHE swore me to secrecy too. I won’t tell anyone.

“How the hell are you related to the Laughing Asswipe from Hell?” Red Hood blurted out, his confusion clear even from behind his hideous helmet. Marinette burst into giggles, and both Pamela and Harley smiled knowingly.

“Mom gave me up for adoption when I was born, so I spent my whole life in Paris up until now,” she admitted. “Mom didn’t visit me for the first time until I was eight, and she and my adoptive parents are so awesome that it must’ve suffocated the worst traits from his DNA before they had a chance to develop,” she guessed out loud with a good natured smile.

Batman grunted. Marinette knew that one run-in wasn’t enough for them to trust her. After all, she was still the biological daughter of their arch enemy. But she didn’t mind, she understood the caution even if she didn’t fully agree with it. They weren’t outright hostile, despite the fact that Robin had never stopped glaring at her since they fought back-to-back against the mob of thugs earlier. She could live with their suspicion, as long as they continued to not be outright rude or mean to her.

At least she could empathize with Adrien now, whenever she figured out how to break it to him that Hawkmoth was definitely Gabriel and couldn’t be anyone else. Hopefully she could help soften the blow for him a little.

Harley and Ivy were starting to herd Marinette towards their car and take her back home, where they could continue to smother her in care and make sure she didn’t have even a scratch on her, when Robin’s voice stopped them all in their tracks.

“You are a surprisingly capable combatant.”

Marinette froze, blinking in surprise for a second before turning to stare at Robin in shock. The rest of the Bat Clam was doing the same, nobody expecting Robin of all people to be the first to directly complement Marinette. He tutted, crossing his arms, but never moved his gaze away from Marinette’s eyes.

“But your form could use some work. Most of your style is incredibly improvised, which I can appreciate since you do it well, but you would benefit from more structure in your fighting. I will set up a time and place for us to spar. We start in two days, if you think you can handle it.”

It took a while for what Robin said to sink in, and another few seconds for Marinette to decipher what his semi-aggressive, order-phrased proposal really meant. And she smiled.

“It’s a date.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Woo! This started off a little rough, but I really like how it ended up! Thank you, Anon!

[bokutoslittlebird]

Office Sex with Todoroki Enji

Boss!Enji x Secretary!Reader

Warnings: dub/noncon, blackmail, threats, Enji’s a creep, creampie, size kink, age difference, mindbreak

Summary: Being Endeavor’s secretary was a dream come true - you often found yourself dreaming about the hero when you were in high school. When Endeavor seems to be setting off red flags, you decide the job of your dreams isn’t what you expected. Too bad your boss has decided you’ll never be able to leave him - even if he has to break you.

When you signed up to work at Endeavor's agency, you didn't expect to be accepted. Your resume wasn't anything special, just some basic past experience as a secretary, so you figured your file would be burned to ashes. Getting the job was no longer just a dream to you. You've always looked up to Endeavor, seeing him as someone who really tried and struggled to become the number one hero. Your eyes had always been drawn to the scowl on the older man, never to the smile on All Might's face. Even thinking about Endeavor's eyes looking at you made your stomach fill with butterflies.

After emailing Endeavor's current secretary about the position, you closed your laptop and decided to get ready for bed, wanting to have a good first impression tomorrow morning.

You were switching your weight on your feet, fiddling with the hem of your sleeves. The button down shirt was simple and hopefully professional enough for Endeavor. There was a dress code for you as his secretary: black pencil skirt, white buttoned blouse, black heels, and pantyhose color of your choice. You chose the only pair you owned, a black pair. The makeup was minimal, practically non-existent. Your nerves made you feel sick, like any moment you would just have to bend over and hurl. It didn't help that Endeavor's blue eyes were burning into your form. For someone with a fire Quirk, he was quite a cold man.

"You seem to understand your job quite well," his voice finally broke the staring contest silence. You let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. "Here's a stack of papers to go through. Cases I've been in, just organize them accordingly,"

"Yes, sir," you bowed, taking the papers. Apparently, he was in a lot of cases since the last secretary quit. She had to quit due to her husband getting a new job out of the prefecture. Instead of traveling for work, she put in a notice of termination and went looking for any available person with that credentials. As you walked to the door, you felt eyes on you and it just increased your nervousness, the idea of him watching you like a hawk making you feel like you'd make a mistake under his gaze.

Once the doors were shut, you felt better, the watchful gaze gone and the little room you would be at for most, if not all, of your time here. You smiled at the sidekicks who waved at you, welcoming you to the agency. Everyone was so friendly, you hoped Endeavor was just cold at first glance, but he'd warm up to you. Eventually.

The next few days were... interesting, to say the least. First, the day you started working, Endeavor called for you to ask your opinion on what he should get for his son's upcoming birthday. You were dumbfounded, but attempted to help him with the information given. The next day, Endeavor visited you at your office, leaning over your shoulder to make sure you were doing everything correctly. It was nerve-wracking to have such a big, imposing man leaning over your shoulder. The day after, you were scolded for your dress code. Apparently, the new dress code required you to wear stockings and to increase your two-inch heel size to four-inch. You were upset and confused at the new change, your feet much preferring the shorter heels and you had to buy garters to hold up the stockings.

The way Endeavor looked at you like a piece of meat made your skin crawl, the grin he gave you predatory. It made you scared to go into work - or at least interact with the hero. The sidekicks would glance at you, never saying much about your wardrobe change, but they noticed. Endeavor noticed them noticing. You felt like an attraction in a zoo at this point, everybody staring at you. The makeup also changed; now it was red lipstick, along with simple eyeshadow and noticeable eyeliner and mascara. You felt like you were going to a party every morning when you got ready for work.

Did it stop there? You hoped it would, but it didn't. Endeavor - he repeatedly told you to call him Enji - would stop by your office before and after a patrol, giving you papers if he stopped any crime. When he didn't have any papers, he would still stop by, bringing you a coffee he had ordered from that shop down the street you loved. When you asked about the coffee shop and how he knew your order, he said it was a lucky guess. You should've known something was off then, but you brushed it aside, smiling and thanking him, bowing respectfully. His gaze was trained on you the entire time.

Endeavor would also give you strange tasks. At first, you happily did them. Now, you still did them, but you wondered why. Why did he throw his pen across his room? Why did you have to go into his office to pick it up? Handing it to him and feeling his fingers gently brush against yours gave you goosebumps the first time, you going home and squealing about it like you were back in high school. When he did it now, you felt like you needed to wash your hands. Your admiration for the hero died when you felt like he was a predator. That's when you came to a decision.

"Termination?" His ice cold gaze fell on you. You hoped he couldn't tell your knees were ready to buckle due to nerves. Nodding, you explained.

"I have recently gotten scouted for a new job" a lie, "closer to my apartment complex" another lie, "so I figured I'd put in my notice of leave. It was great working with you" again, a lie, "and I hope you are able to find another secretary," bowing again, your eyes widened when you saw the angry scowl on Endeavor's face.

"I refuse," he spat, standing from his chair. You tried to talk, but he made you freeze all over, the icy gaze fully trained on you. "You think you can come into here and decide to leave me? I have half a mind to burn your skin,"

"Excuse me?!" a squeak came out, your blood running cold at his harsh words.

"You little tease," he sneered, closer to you now. Your body finally got the hint to move, your vision turning to the door, only to find the mahogany desk of Endeavor to fill it. You hissed in pain as the impact of the hard wood and your cheek connected. "Playing around with me only to bail?"

"Endeavor, sir!" you pleaded, struggling in his grip. The heat from his body was intense, the sunset dimming the room and you knew the only source of light was from the desk lamp beside you and the flaming man above you. One large hand held your wrists behind your back, while the other one settled on your hips, sending you into a panic.

"I told you to call me Enji, little one," is all he said, not answering any of the questions you had. You felt yourself freeze at the thought of what was to come - hoping some deity would pity you. "You aren't leaving me,"

"You can't do that! I have every right-!"

"You'll never find another place to work. Ever again."

"Wh-What?" tears slipped out of your eyes, pooling against the desk. "You can't-"

"A cheap whore who quits after her boss won't sleep with her, how about that?" You can practically feel the grin on his face. "You'll never find work again. Not anywhere in Japan if I have anything to say about it, that is,"

"You're fucking sick!" You started thrashing, trying to loosen his grip somehow. Whether your future careers were ruined or not, you didn't accept any of this. "Get off!"

"Look at you, dressing so prettily for me. You think my sidekicks haven't noticed? They'd believe me wholeheartedly. You're nothing," he sneered, making you stop. He was right, of course, the sidekicks noticed your change from when you started working. They wouldn't believe any words you said if their trusted and respected boss - a hero - said otherwise. Your previous life would crash and shatter within the night without any say. The only thing you could now was accept the turn of events. "It's okay, I'll make you my special whore and nobody will be hurt. I've seen the way you look at me. Clenching your thighs together, the downward glances when you talk to me, your cute habit of twiddling your fingers. You've been dying for me to eat you up, haven't you?"

"N-No.." your tiny voice spoke, all the fight gone from it. At first, you weren't too sure it was yours. You're not even sure Endeav- Enji heard it. You felt disgusted, especially when you felt the hand on your hip move, the warm hand moving to your thighs and sliding underneath the skirt. You grit your teeth, cringing when you felt a finger rub against the panties you had on. The feeling of his rubbing you through the thin fabric made your stomach tighten - not in the way you expected. A gasp left you when he brushed against your clit, practically ghosting over the little nub.

"You say no, yet you react so sweetly to me. You really are just a stupid slut, aren't you? I said stockings were part of the dress code, not these garters," he pulled the garter and let it snap back against your skin, earning another gasp. You closed your eyes, hoping whatever would happen would happen so you could go home and get away from this nightmare. One second, your arms were behind you being bound by a large hand, then it felt like a piece of cloth had replaced it. After attempting to move your arms, you felt the fabric digging into your skin.

Instead of talking, Enji decided to continue with his exploration of your body. The finger rubbing you through your panties left, his hand pulling up your skirt over your rump, fully on display for his eyes. You fought the urge to vomit when he made a noise, a mix between a groan and a sigh, at the sight. Once again, a hand came up to your panties, rubbing your folds through the fabric while the other one palmed your cheek. A sudden ripping sound filled your ears, startling you and making you gasp as you felt your cunt suddenly exposed. Out of your periphery, you saw the white of your panties, a piece of them at least, falling out of sight onto the floor.

"I've been waiting for this. You bent over with your cunt taking in my cock. I wonder how cute you'll sound? Or will it be more slutty to accompany how you look like a whore?" He admitted, making you feel even more disgusted with him. Knowing he had fantasized about this — about him forcefully having his way with you — was downright disgusting. A large and hot object brushed against your wet folds, making your head pop up as you felt it push in. "I've just put it in— you're so fucking tight,"

"I- I'm a virgin," you finally said, wincing at the foreign intrusion. You were sure it'd hurt with any man, but Enji was bigger than average. You figured that out when watching him on television, back in your high school days when you developed a crush on the older man, thoughts of him accompanying you in those lonely nights and how large he would be. Of course, those thoughts didn't include the idea of pain with the large cock of Enji Todoroki.

"No wonder you're so tight. I'd figure my slutty secretary had been with quite a few people. I'm honored to be your first-" he suddenly thrust his hips forward, making you cry in pain as he buried himself to the hilt, "and your last,"

"Th- That's— ah!" your mind couldn't process any information except how hot and big his cock was, stretching you out farther than you ever expected. Your body rocked in rhythm with the slow, but sharp thrusts of Enji, your head hurting from the earlier treatment of being thrown on the desk. You grit your teeth, hoping to avoid any sounds from coming out, but mewls and moans would slip through, letting him know he was definitely pleasing you. Instead of pointing it out, he just grinned when your pitch rose. A particular thrust earned him an open-mouthed mewl, your eyes rolling at the sensation.

"Sounding like a proper whore, aren't you? Pathetic. You're just a whiny little bitch, aren't you?" his words hurt, they were supposed to, but the way your walls clench tighter around him, if that was possible, proved you took it a different way. "Look at you, tightening at my words. Don't you know only cute little girls get to cum? If you want to be my good little girl, you're going to need to beg like a whore,"

"Nn—“ you whined, his thrusts getting rougher and picking up the pace, pushing you closer to your orgasm. You knew it was coming, you knew it'd have to happen eventually, so you kept your mouth shut. If anything, you'd keep your stubborn pride at not obeying his every command. Too bad for you, Enji pulled out of you, leaving you to clench around nothing.

"Your pretty pussy is practically begging for my cock again. I said to beg like a whore, you stupid bitch," his chuckle was low and deep, making your chest tighten as you associated that with the better times. Feeling those butterflies after what he did made you feel sick. You whined, feeling the orgasm slowly slip away. "Beg. Like. A. Whore."

"En- Enji, please let me cum. I- I pro- promise to be a good girl. I promise. Please, just- just let me cum," you whined, feeling filthy. Your head was turned, so you got to see the downright terrifying grin that Enji sported at your words. Apparently it was enough for him because he slid his cock back into your tight, warm walls and pounded away. Your moans were more free now, your hands clenching into fists at the feeling of your orgasm building again.

"I'm sure you'd be happy— fuck— happy to milk me dry, wouldn't you?" he grunted, his own orgasm approaching. You nodded your head, shuffling your feet to try and allow for more space for Enji to fill you. The heels gave you some added height, but you still needed some more to completely feel him. Lucky for you, Enji noticed and positioned you differently, your shoes barely grazing the floor as the only thing holding you up was Enji's cock and this thrusts into your tight cunt, the squelching sounds encouraging him to go faster. Your eyes rolled back, feeling your high wash over you as you came, your walls sending Enji to cum, too. The feeling of his thick, hot cum spilling into you made you sigh, feeling full and warm.

Enji sliding out of you, setting you unsteadily onto your feet made you come back down to Earth, where you were in Endeavor's office and currently feeling his cum ooze out of your spasming cunt. You cringed in disgust, your legs shaky and unstable. The fabric binding your arms was removed, making you sigh in relief, the numb limbs falling to your side.

"Come on, get up. I'm not done with you yet," his voice made you turn, your eyes widened. He obviously was less fucked-out than you were, his cock standing tall and proud. Automatically, you went to lick your lips at the slick cock, finally seeing out thick it was. "You're gonna clean me up and then I'm going to go back to fucking you senseless and fill you up. I'm going to give reality to every fantasy about you. Now, get to licking, slut,"

And, like his good little girl, you obeyed. Getting to your knees was much more comfortable, anyways.

[amlovelies]

Anwyn: 🍀👑🎀

Vesper: 🕷️🔪💚

Riley: ✏️🌈💘

No pressure! 👀 I love hearing about the darlings.

thank you roux 💜

Anwyn (dnd)

🍀 CLOVER - do they believe in luck? are they lucky?

She believes in skill. At her core Anwyn is a survivor and she would never place her survival in something as shaky as luck. Luck can abandon you at any time, but skill those are yours you've earned them and mastered them and yourself.

👑 CROWN - what does your oc want to be remembered as? why?

she doesn't want to be remembered. she has gotten used to being a shadow in the night. she's done a lot of things she is not proud of and she doesn't want that to be her legacy. better to be forgotten. to run away to the edge of the map and fade away

🎀 RIBBON - how would they fit into other worlds / aus? what aus would you like to try out? what fictional world would they fit / not fit into?

okay so the idea of anwyn as a combat unit regene has not left my mind. especially given her redacted backstory! especially with her ending up working for hg. surviving however she can but always turned into a weapon for others to use.

Vesper (fhr)

🕷️ SPIDER - what is their biggest fear? do they have any irrational / mundane fears?

Intimacy. having it and then losing it. vesper is very afraid of letting people get close and puts on a whole show with rude words and insults and pushing people away but they can't really help themself from wanting connection. pushing it away and pulling it towards them in equal measure. they are so afraid of having it and then losing it you can't lose something you never had. it can't be used against you then. it can't hurt you. also a general fear of heights which isn't irrational given their history imo

🔪 KNIFE - how do they react to injury / misfortune befalling their loved ones (significant other, family, friends)? do they put themselves at blame?

answered this one here

💚 GREEN HEART - what things make your oc feel comforted? hugs, kisses, food?

warmth. a warm cup of coffee in their hands, warm smiles and warm eyes. shared meals. familiar spaces. they try to resist really hard. try not to want and need it, but it never fails to make them weak.

Riley (twc)

✏️ PENCIL - is there a particular quote / lyric that you associate with them?

I don't have a lot in her tag (which is a crime) but what I do have is from what a wonder world by louis armstrong

I see skies of blue and clouds of white The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night And I think to myself what a wonderful world.

🌈 RAINBOW - what advice would they give to their younger self?

setting boundaries doesn't make you a bad person

💘 HEART W/ ARROW - what traits do they look for in a relationship? do they believe in love at first sight?

someone who she feels safe around, someone who doesn't rush or dismiss her feelings. she doesn't believe in love at first sight, interest? attraction? yes. but to her love requires a level of trust that needs to be built

oc emoji asks

[liquid-luck-00]

Siblings

Bio!Dad Bruce

Day 3: Siblings

@biodad-bruce-month

First ~~~ Previous ~~~ Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Mari had agreed to go to Gotham after Gina, Tom, and Sabine's funeral. And now I am sweating bullets, not for how she will react, oh no I am far more worried about how the boys will. Maybe having a civilian in the manor will curb some of their unsavory habits.

When I asked Mari and she agreed I could tell this was going to be eventful. She asked if she had any siblings.

"Biologically, legally, or emotionally?" I responded completely serious, "There is a difference."

She thought for a moment before saying "Legally because I already know I have a biological brother" she stated with a smile.

"How did you know that?" he asked her.

"DNA testing project for an ethnicity and ancestor report." Marinette said casually, "So how many siblings legally?" she pushed.

He sighed "Seven but it might as well be eleven with how often Barbara, Stephanie, Jon, and Roy are at the mansion."

"Can you tell me a bit about them. Maybe even the measurements!"

After he had given enough information to spur her creativity, Mari could only be described as a tempest of creative energy.

By the time we were to board the jet to Gotham there was a suitcase filled with only gifts, he had lost count after the sixth gift, but she still added some more. By the time they landed she had a rough idea of what she was getting herself into.

To his shock the boys hadn't tried to figure out where he was and that in itself was a blessing. The boys knew that she existed but were never interested in finding her and to quote Jason 'Save her from the insanity that surrounds this family.' Yet he was about to change that.

He had told Alfred that someone would be staying in the manor but to only leave a car at the airport and he would drive them in. Thank god at least one person listens to him.

The ride to the manor was silent conversation wise. But the constant scratching of a pencil as Mari designed inspired by Gotham's architecture filled the quiet.

---

Before leaving Paris, Mari found out she has seven siblings, 1 biological and 6 adoptive and 4 practically siblings, she will have to figure that part out. Bruce told her all about them and got her their measurements and that includes the one of Bruce's butler/father figure and his fiancée Selina. So in one suitcase there were 13 individually wrapped gifts that even Bruce didn't know what they were. The Miracle box, disguised as a sewing caddy, was among her things, but the horse miraculous and Kaalki were in her purse along with Tikki.

Oh kwamii how am I going to keep this secret if I’m going to be in another country along with being in a house with more than a dozen other people.

Once touching down in Gotham she began sketching, one because she was nervous and two Gotham's architecture was gorgeous. She didn't even realize that they had arrived at the manor until the engine cut.

"Let's introduce you to everyone" Bruce stated with a sigh and a small smile. They left the bags in the car and walked up the steps. As they neared the door they heard it.

"Get back here Todd" one extremely angry voice sounded.

"Dick HELP ME" another voice yelled.

They opened the door and there was quite the scene. Who she believes is Damian is chasing, who she is mostly sure is Jason, with a... is that a katana? And who she is certain must be Dick is trying and failing to stop Damian. In fact he is now also being chased. She looks over and Bruce is sighing looking completely done and with someone next to him.

"Hello and welcome to Wayne Manor." the man states, Alfred if she had to guess.

"Hello Alfred I presume” Mari greets him.

“That would be correct Miss…” Alfred responds.

“Marinette. Um this normal?" Mari asks.

"Unfortunately” Bruce states in a resigned tone.

"Huh" is all she says as she formulates a plan. The boys haven't noticed them yet so that is a plus, but what to do. Then she got an idea so she sprang into action. She watched for any pattern in the chase and when she found one she hid. She was next to the stairs in the perfect position to pounce. By this time Bruce and Alfred were watching her curious to what she was planning. She never left her hiding spot, but when Damian paused to look for Dick and Jason near her she moved. She took the katana and replaced it with a bouquet of flowers and went back to standing between Bruce and Alfred still holding the blade.

"How did you?" Bruce questioned her but she just gave him a smirk and spoke loud enough to get not only Damian’s attention but Dick and Jason’s who were hiding behind the couch.

"I thought you didn't tell them I was coming and here is Damian with flowers. Or wait who is the lucky person?" This got everyone's attention in the manor, if it wasn’t already.

“What the?" Damian stared at the flowers in his hand, while Dick and Jason came out of hiding.

The three boys were looking between her, holding the katana Damian was previously chasing them with, and the flowers in Damians hand. Then they began to stare between her and Bruce before finally someone spoke, "Seriously Bruce another one" Jason, yup definitely Jason, was the first to respond.

"Nice to meet you too" Mari replied. When she looked at Bruce he was still in shock but was now sporting a smirk. "Jason right"

She was holding the katana in her left hand while pointing at Jason with her right hand, he was tall and his build was most like Bruce he had blue eyes and black hair but had a white streak in the front, he nodded acknowledging she was right.

She then continued "I'm going with Dick, right?" she moved on and the oldest, who again only nodded his head, he looked the most like Bruce with his black hair and blue eyes but he was leaner.

"And your Damian" she finished with those in the room, he had tanned skin and green eyes that were complemented by his black hair.

"Is that my katana?" Damian asked, his voice seemed to be a mixture of disbelief, anger, and dare she even say awe, and all eyes seemed to focus on the blade in her hand.

"Yes" She responds with a smile.

"Honestly Mari how did you do that?" Bruce asked her once again.

"You learn to take objects off of an Akuma if you get caught up in too many attacks." she shrugged. She moved towards Damian and handed back his sword. "I'm Marinette by the way."

"Seriously B your missing for two weeks with no notice and come back with your Daughter. Who I might add was able to take Demon spawns sword without him noticing. Why wouldn't you warn us you were coming back with her! Or I don’t know going to find her at all!” Another person walked out into the hallway. Honestly he seemed ready to fall asleep and was holding a huge cup of coffee, he then turned towards me. He also had blue eyes and black hair but it was the longest of the boys. "I'm Tim, nice to finally meet you" he stated with a smile before turning back to Bruce with a slight frown.

At Tim's appearance and statement Jason and Dick burst into confused screams and wild gestures in Dick’s case, while Damian stood there analyzing her before giving a nod of his head. Bruce looked done but it was Alfred who spoke. "Perhaps it would be best to discuss this over lunch along with everyone else?"

"That would be best. Thank you Alfred." Bruce responded. "In the meantime why don't we you get settled."

With that Bruce and her walked back to the car to get her bags. Jason and Dick followed them out, and helped to get her things. Alfred led the five to a room where she began to put things away, only Jason stayed to help her finish her task.

---

The day had started as normally as any other in Wayne Manor, but no one, and I mean no one was ready for this tiny little french teen with the biggest blue eyes to get the drop on any of them. Let alone be able to take Demon Spawns sword without him noticing.

To say Jason was intrigued was an understatement. Seriously how did she do that, because he sure as hell isn't believing that excuse, like what the hell is an akuma attack. Bruce, Dick, and I helped her bring her bags into the room Alfred prepared. He was the only one who stayed to help her. One because if she could get the drop on the Demon then he had to win her over as a pranking ally. Two she was his sister now and he isn't as bad as everyone makes him out to be.

While helping her set up her room he found it, it was a suitcase filled with wrapped boxes. Now if she is my sister then let the blackmail material begin, but not without some teasing thrown into the mix.

"What's with the presents in the case Bluebell," Jason asked, throwing in a nickname to see if Marinette would have any type of a reaction. Because who packs presents unless it was a distraction or trying to hide something.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she said with a smirk and heat tilt. Well not the reaction he had hoped for.

"So what was that thing you said archery attack was it?" this got a reaction, but not one he was expecting.

"You don't know about the akuma attacks?" she was a mix of fear and surprise and he was unsure how he was supposed to react to that. Lucky for him as he was about to speak Tim and Dick came in and told them lunch was ready.

---

Jason not knowing about akuma attacks was odd and she didn't know how to react to his question. He was about to respond but Dick and Tim came in, and told them lunch was ready. They walked into the dinning room and inside were too many faces. She recognized Bruce and Damian. Tim, Dick, and Jason walked in with her.

"We're here" Dick dramatically announced, and all of a sudden all eyes were on her.

"OMG she is so cute!" a blonde yelled "Are we sure she is yours Bruce."

"Yes Stephanie. I am sure" Bruce answered almost amused. "Why don't you introduce yourself before you suffocate her."

"Ya, Ya," she waved him off "I'm Stephanie Brown" she stated as she continued to hug her.

The introductions included Stephanie, Cassandra or she said Cass, Duke, Roy, Barbara, Selina, and Jon. During lunch they asked her about herself she stayed in the realm of civilian, but Jason again brought up the akuma attacks so she explained a bit about the Paris situation and referred to them to Aurore's blog 'BugOut'.

She figured out the meaning of her practically siblings

Jon was Damian's best friend as Roy was Jason's because of this they spent large amounts of time with the family . The blonde who tackled her, Stephanie, was dating Tim and Barbara was a close family friend to everyone.

Afterwards she ended up giving everyone their gifts and Damian challenged her to a spar. The fact that no one, except Bruce having a partial reason, had any idea why she could hold her own was priceless. Seriously everyone's jaw was on the floor and Bruce looked like he was plotting something but it seemed to quickly leave his thoughts. All in all it was a good first day with her new family.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list:

@mochinek0 @justafanwarrior @abrx2002 @ranger-gothamite @fantasiame @moonystars14 @mochegato @bigbeautifulandfullofsugar @maribat-is-lifeblood @iglowinggemma28 @miraculous-ninja @talutah0 @vixen-uchiha @danielslilangel @witchsblackfox @pawsitivelymiraculous @lizziejay @marinettepotterandplagg @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @dast218 @sassakitty @miyla-lokidottir @lilkymilky

[justice4harwin]

Light’s Corruption- Chapter III

Pairing: AlinaxTheDarkling

Rating: 18+

TW: Talks of sexual harassment and sexual assault of a minor.

Tags will be in the comments. Please don’t be shy and let me know if you wanna be added or if you no longer wish to be on the list.

Part II Here

Enjoy the reading! :D

Chapter 3: Plotting and Braiding

Alina threaded back to her room alone, while Genya took a detour to the kitchens to fetch them something to eat.

Arriving back into the comforts of her own chambers, she felt a great relief. To say the afternoon with the queen had been tense was an understatement, and she was sure that the arrival of the king at the end was not only due to his obsession with Genya. She had no idea what The Darkling had told the king so far regarding her training, but he didn't seem like a patient man. Surely, he already knew about her little display that very same day in the gardens.

Looking around, she noticed someone had bought back her pencil and flask of ink and placed it on her desk.

She took off her kefta and put on a simple blue nightgown with golden embroidery that reached her knees. Someone had put on a fire, thankfully, and she was quick to stand by it to warm herself, eagerly waiting for her friend to return.

On the one hand, she was excited. Genya was her first girlfriend, and despite having known each other for a few months only, they had grown quite close. As childish as it may sound, the idea of a sleepover made her excited. Before, in Keramzin, she and Mal would sneak out into a corner and play quietly, talk, or just sit there in silence; but none of the older girls had let her play with her since she tended to be very easily tired, and by the time a few other girls came in, she was too old to keep up with them without exhausting herself.

On the other hand, Genya's semblance had been almost sombre as she left her, and that made her anxious. What did the redhead want to talk about? Alina couldn't imagine. Did it have to do with the queen? Had she done or said something wrong? Was she worried about The Darkling finding out about her little lie? Saints knew how their royals asses would react if they knew General Kirigan to be unaware of something, as insignificant as they may deem it.

The Sun Summoner wanted to give the king and queen a few words.

Something kicked the door.

"Open up!"

Alina hurried and did as was asked, and Genya walked in with a big silver tray full of food precariously held in one hand and two bottles of wine in the other.

Alina reached out and took the bottles from her, and with a relieved sound, Genya took a more solid hold of the tray and placed it on top of the rug near the fireplace.

"Where are the glasses?" the summoner asked.

She received a look of disbelief.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Moya Soverennyi, but I only have two arms."

"Right. Sorry." her cheeks turned pink as she balanced herself on the tip of her toes.

Genya stood up and strutted to the wardrobe.

"Please tell me you have something decent to lend me."

She didn't wait for a response as she pulled out a blue nightgown and began to take her kefta off.

Alina turned around, cheeks red, and heard her friend chuckling.

"Scared that I might be your type, Starkov?"

Alina giggled nervously.

"I just…you know, privacy, decency and all that." she cleared her throat, and after a moment of contemplation, with a trembling voice, decided to speak: "Back in Poliznaya, when I first enlisted, they didn't have resources enough for pretty much anything, so all men and women were put in the same room to sleep, and there was only one big bathroom." Alina had to clear her throat once more. "Uh, so, changing clothes was very uncomfortable because some men would just, make comments or look at us weird; and so after a few days, this girl, Maria, decided that we should do a small circle and take turns changing so they would leave us alone."

"Did they?"

"No." she huffed humourlessly. "It made their words harsher, but still, for a while, we stood in the circle, even if it took us longer to go to sleep or wash ourselves, so, yeah, … privacy."

"Did no one ever do anything?" Genya sounded concerned.

"Some guys tried to tell them once or twice, you know, to not do that, and others just gave us our space." Alina sighed. "In the end, we were there for about a year, so we couldn't keep it up. We learned to change our clothes quickly and wash ourselves even faster."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that." her friend said softly, sincerely.

"It's fine." Alina tried to wave it off. "It's not like I was much more than skin and bones back then; I didn't get the worst of it."

She had had her share of inappropriate comments, yes, but after the time one of the other men sneaked up on her and Mal broke his nose, they all stopped.

"What? That's your girl, Oretsev?" the guy had asked, clutching his nose.

"No!" Mal had answered, a little too loudly, a little too quick, nostrils flaring. "But that doesn't mean you can go around behaving like a brute."

The guy hummed, looking more amused than annoyed.

"It's not as if she were much to look at anyways." one of his friends had said, picking him up from the floor while Alina anxiously clutched a shirt to her chest; Mal still standing in front of her, breathing heavily. The rest of the room had gone very silent. She had to get dressed; yet she couldn't move. Mal walked away, back to his group of friends.

"Well, you're more than skin and bones now." Genya said, slightly more enthusiastic. "I think it suits you. You look very pretty like this. And you don't have to turn around; I'm comfortable with you."

"Yeah, I'd rather not. Thanks."

"You're way too nice for this place, Alina." she said, almost pitiful.

"I can manage."

"Oh, you will. And I'll make sure of it. All done."

Alina turned and took her in. The nightgown was blue just like hers, slightly more revealing than the one Alina was currently wearing, and it fitted Genya's figure a little bit tight. Still, she looked stunning as usual.

"It's weird." she said. "Seeing you in something other than white, I mean."

The woman looked down, pale hands running over the soft fabric.

"It is." she conceded, a strange softness to her voice.

"You look nice."

"Darling, I look more than nice." she winked, getting back to the tray of food and letting herself fall next to it.

Alina handed her a bottle, which the redhead opened up and didn't waste time in chugging down a few big gulps. She rose her eyebrows. When Genya passed her the bottle, she contemplated the flames for a few seconds.

"Look, I don't know what we're supposed to do during sleepovers, but it doesn't matter. We have more pressing things to discuss."

"I said something wrong in front of Her Royal Pain in the Ass, didn't I?" Alina moaned, taking a massive sip of the liquid. It wasn't her favourite drink, but she was starting to feel like drowning and anything would do.

Genya giggled.

"No, you managed yourself quite well, in fact." She turned, clear eyes examining her friend's face, "Do you realize what the Queen was doing, Alina?"

"She, …wanted to gossip and belittle some people?"

"Well yes, but she never invites grisha."

"You said she wanted to show me off."

"Yes; and she also wanted intel." Genya leaned in closer as if to share a secret, even though it was just the two of them in the room. "Every one of your lessons is private, and General Kirigan never reports the progress of his grisha to the Royal Family anyways. He's always refused to, and it makes the King furious, but he's too afraid to do anything about it, …for now."

"But I am the Sun Summoner."

"Yes, so the stakes are high." Genya frowned. "If the King knows you're in a weak spot, he'll start to push, and that won't lead to anything good with the General and other Grisha but, …if you make some friends-"

"Like, with Zoya?!"her face was the reflection of her disgust as she took in a big gulp of wine.

"Just in general." Genya placed her forearm on the carpet and took a piece of cheese. "What you have to actually do, is make allies."

"You mean friends?"

"Sure, make some friends." she shrugged. "But also make allies. Don't let the King know that you're isolated. Trust me, there will come a time when you'll need of the others, and you can't always count on General Kirigan to save you."

Alina hadn't thought about it. So far, he had always been there, at the right place, at the right time. Maybe Genya was right, and she had unconsciously relied on him to have her back and catch her before she fell.

"How do I do that?"

Genya stuffed her face with some more cheese and chewed slowly. She shrugged.

"There are several ways. You can't just go to a group and ask them to back you up. Observe. Go one by one." Genya all but pushed Alina to take a big gulp of wine, her fingers firm underneath the bottle as she titled it up. The brunette drank. "Try to bide some time. Make them owe you favours. They don't really have to like you, but if they do, it's better. Have you seen how all of them thrive to be the General's favourite?"

Alina nodded slowly. Eyes had seemed to turn towards her when she first arrived, but since she had kept her non-progress a secret, and her and Kirigan were rarely seen together in public and she was never requested to his quarters, it seemed like the other grisha's eyes had quickly drifted from her. Like she wasn't so important after all.

"Make them want to be your favourite, Alina."

"I already have a favourite." she said with a playful wink, taking a cookie.

Genya shoved her gently.

"I know." she said, voice full of petulance. "But I don't mind you hiding it for a while."

Alina cleaned her fingers off the crumbs of the cookie, looking into the fire, pensive.

So, she needed friends. She had Marie and Nadia already, but it was true that the rest of the grisha didn't stand too close to her. Maybe it was because of how awful she was during Botkin's lessons, or because she refused to showcase her powers and they thought her a snob of some sort. Maybe they just didn't like her. She didn't like some of them either.

She leaned back, her eyes consumed by the crackling fire.

So, observe. That was something she could do. She'd watch them, see their customs, their likes and dislikes, and try to work with that.

Working to become The Darkling's favourite crossed her mind. He was only one person; and if she were to be his favourite, surely some would grow closer to her.

No. She shook her head.  They would only come to her as a path to The Darkling himself. Or they would resent her for it.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Genya slowly smiling.

"What?"

"That look you got on your face." she said, pointing a pale finger in her general direction. "You're already plotting. That's the same look The General and His Royal Imbecile get when they want to make some manoeuvre."

"I'm just, …pondering on what you said and how to do it."

"Good. And I'll help you where I can." Alina wanted to protest, knowing Genya already had so much on her plate, but the redhead shook her head. "Zip it, Starkov. I will. I'm very good at getting information."

"Oh, really?" she asked in fake mockery. She had no doubts of Genya's resourcefulness. She watched with a smile as the woman kept drinking without pause, and then let the now empty bottle fall on top of the carpet, a few drops ruining its beautiful colour.

"Yes. Now: braid my hair.”

Genya

The Tailor did her best not to cringe at Alina's attempted braids; she had done her best.

It was pleasant kind of strange, having a friend. Genya hadn't had one in a long time, since before the grisha discovered them and Kirigan placed her in the Grand Palace as his eyes and ears.

She had learnt much from him; she believed in his cause, and thus, she silently endured the life at the Grand Palace. It was only a small sacrifice for the sake of all grisha.

But friends? No. She had charmed people, made some allies and had plenty of people at her feet who owed her favours she would carefully collect. But she had never had a friend.

The other grisha saw her as a servant only. Even though she trained alongside them with Botkin on several occasions, even though she also endured Baghra's harsh lessons -those were brief, for Genya already had almost mastered her gift by the age of twelve- and she also wore a kefta. But it was white. And white was the colour of servitude.

Alina was the only grisha who seemed to seek her out for the sheer desire of her company; she sought her out to ramble on and on about how she was a fraud -Genya disagreed- and how behind of them all she was. 

Genya liked that. She liked Alina. She always asked her how she was doing, how she was feeling, a big smile on her face and her expression open, ready to listen. There was much that Genya couldn't tell her, but she shared what she could, and to her surprise, Alina cared.

So, Genya said nothing when Alina decided she would tailor her and ended up looking like a clown. Well, not quite, but it was definitely a rookie's work. Genya smiled anyways, because Alina had done it for the fun of it, with the best intentions in mind, wanting nothing more than to have a good time with her.

Genya did her face too. Without her powers, and still, she was perfect.

They talked late into the night, of things Genya hadn't known could be talked about to such lengths without getting bored or being malicious. Hm. She supposed it depended on the person one talked to. 

They settled on Alina's bed well past midnight, and she apologized for keeping her up so late.

"Oh, please. I'm the only one in this place who doesn't need a beauty sleep." She had said, flippant as she tossed her messy braid behind her shoulders.

They talked so more in the darkness. Suddenly, amongst the chatter and ramblings of her friend, Genya felt an all too familiar weight on her chest.

"I was thirteen." She said quickly, in one exhale of breath that left her shocked.

Although she couldn't see very well, she felt Alina turning on her side to look at her.

"I'll listen, if you want." Was all she said.

Saints bless her, Genya thought, tears in her eyes. She couldn't tell her everything, she didn't think she could stand it, but Alina had figured it out, so that made some of it easier.

"The king gave me odd looks ever since my first day at the palace, but I was thirteen when one night I was asked to go to his chambers." Her voice shook, much to her shame. She felt some ruffling among the sheets, and then a hand wrapping around hers. She squeezed it tightly. "I thought he might want me to do something about that chin of his, "she giggled bitterly. "I was frozen. I was as silent as the dead, and yet...I, I didn't fight back, not that first time. I just, " she made a motion with her hand, and wiped her cheeks. "I just laid there." She tried to steady her breath. "When he fell asleep, I got up. Everything hurt, and the blood had dried in my legs." She turned, barely making out Alina's teary eyes in the dim light that filtered through a window. "The guards escorted me back to my rooms. I kept crying, and one of them offered me a handkerchief. I'll never forget the looks of pity they gave me." She turned back, facing the fabric of the canopy above. "I never let them see me cry again. Ever."

She felt Alina scooting closer and placing both arms around her, and Genya returned her hug.

"It wasn't your fault." She said. Upon hearing those words, never spoken to her before, Genya couldn't help but sob. "He'll get what's coming to him."

Oh, she had no idea.

"Please don't tell anyone."

"Of course not." Alina hugged her tighter and ran a hand through the knots she had made in her perfect hair. "But I'm here; I'll always be here."

Genya's heart softened at that, and she closed her eyes, letting sleep take her in the safety of Alina's arms. Not the Sun Summoner. Not one of the most powerful grisha to ever exist. Nor the Saint; Ravka's only hope.

Just Alina.

Her friend. 

When Genya woke up a few hours later, the sun was still in its slumber.

Her arms wrapped around Alina, the other woman had both of her hands wrapped around her forearms, half leaning on top of her. 

She noticed the small, wet spot on the top of her nightgown. So Alina drooled in her sleep. Disgusting. Hilarious.

Carefully, Genya got up and got dressed, feeling lighter than before.

Without making a noise, she approached the bed and wrapped the blankets tightly around the summoner, placing a gentle kiss to her temple. She didn't even stir.

When Genya left the bedroom and headed down the stairs, she felt the weight upon her again, heavier, more solid, making her almost want to crumble right on the spot and cry until her throat was raw.

She didn't do that.

She held her head high and advanced with a purpose she didn't really feel on the inside.

The oprichniki at the doors allowed her passage without questioning, and she put one foot in front of the other down the long, dark corridor.

She knocked on a door, and after a moment was given permission to entry.

The Darkling sat behind a desk, an old book in a language she couldn't decipher in his hand. She wondered if he ever slept.

She bowed.

"Moi Soverennyi."

"Well, Miss Safin?"

She reached into her pocket and extracted a folded piece of paper. 

"She said this was the last one."

"Did you read it?" He asked as he took it from her hands and opened it unceremoniously.

"I did, sir." She took in a deep breath. "I truly believe this is the end of the problem."

"Good." He replied, his eyes running over the name the letter was addressed at, fingers trailing over the nice handwriting. "You are dismissed."

"Moi Soverennyi." She bowed again and turned, ready to return to the Grand Palace. To real life.

"Miss Safin?"

She looked back, a hand on the door handle already.

"What is that on your wrist?"

She looked down to see the pale skin had turned a nasty red, a few pimples here and there. Smoothly, she ran her other hand over the area, watching as it went back to its previous perfection.

"Just a little experiment, sir. Nothing serious." She smiled.

He nodded slowly, his eyes, as usual, trying to solve a puzzle.

She couldn't tell him...for now.

"Very well. Do be careful, Miss Safin." He said, leaning back in his chair and began to read the letter. "I would hate to lose such unique soldier."

She smiled once more and left before the edges cracked.

Part IV here

[bird-in-a-cage]

In today’s update of Whoops My Hand Slipped, and 100% inspired by smutty voice in my ear ( @cockasinthebird in case you couldn’t guess) and yesterday’s ravenous ghost talk, I present this. Enjoy!

E | 3157 | dubcon, spectrophilia, dom/sub vibes, choking, public sex, light nipple play

L Train

Steve fiddled with his tie, waiting on the platform for the red line to take him downtown. He was nervous, naturally. Not everyone got their foot in the door at Pierce and Pierce. But he had. And without his father's help. He had a job interview scheduled for ten. Nailing it was of the utmost importance. It meant he could stay in Chicago for one, his tiny uptown apartment with the windowsill lined with small succulent pots. It also would prove to his father that Steve wasn't a screw up. He could finally put his adolescent years and all the horrors they held to bed once and for all. Cut all ties with Hawkins and his family for good.

It was more than a job interview.

The platform gradually filled with commuters as the train pulled into the stop, already full of people. Steve had hoped getting a slightly earlier time would have meant it wouldn’t be so busy. He didn’t really want to have to ride an hour through the city crammed in like the fish in a trawler net he now was. But it would be okay. The journey didn’t matter, only the destination. He found a place to stand near a set of doors, facing outwards to watch the city go by, shifting his messenger bag to his front to keep it safe from pickpockets.

Steve knew there weren’t any, but his small town brain wouldn’t let those kinds of prejudices die. 

The doors slipped close in front of Steve’s face before the train shuddered and shunted back into life, setting off at a pace through the city. Steve sighed silently to himself and ran through potential questions he might be asked, hands moving between playing with the strap of his bag, to the end of his tie, to brushing through the hair by his ears. All nervous habits and ticks. Never able to properly keep still. He closed his eyes for a moment, mentally picturing the interview. Placing himself as smooth and confident, with all the right answers. The total opposite to how he was in reality. Pierce and Pierce didn’t need to know who he really was.

Steve’s eyes flew open when he felt something touch his chest. There was nothing in front of him but the door, locked tight for safety. Maybe he had imagined the first, but the second time around there wasn’t a chance. It felt like a hand, open and splayed, right in the middle of his chest. The pressure of it slowly moving around to cup a pectoral muscle. It was strange to say the least. It didn’t feel like it was over his shirt though. It felt like it was directly against his skin. Steve glanced around. There was a man standing behind him but facing towards the rest of the carriage, nose deep in a folded up paperback. To Steve’s left was a woman in a pencil skirt, a black handbag pinned under her arm, again facing the carriage, focusing on nothing in particular with headphones on. Steve bit his lip before an embarrassing noise could be heard over the rattle of the engine as he felt fingers circling his sensitive nipple. His brain was suddenly spinning into overdrive, trying to work out what was happening and why. It wasn't another commuter and it certainly was far too direct to just be a haphazard breeze.

Mmm aren’t you a pretty one…

Steve felt his nipple being pinched as he probably resembled an owl, frantically looking around for whoever had spoken. But the voice that had floated around his head didn’t look like it came from anyone nearby. No one else was reacting if they had heard anything, or said anything even. It wasn’t a quiet voice either. Someone else would have definitely heard it. Steve hung his head and breathed hard through his nose. Now wasn’t the time for a breakdown, not on the biggest day of his life. Certainly the most important. Maybe that’s why it was happening. Stress and pressure. Steve closed his eyes again, just for a moment.

Nah ah pretty boy, let me see ‘em. You got real nice eyes.

Okay. No. This wasn’t happening. Not at all. Someone was playing a joke. A hideous prank. Steve kept his eyes shut on purpose now, ignoring the voice that was clearly just in his head. Trying to just breathe calmly and regain some form of composure. It lasted all of two seconds before his now hard nipple got another playful pinch. A noise bubbled in his throat that he had to pass off as a small cough.

Come on princess. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours…

Steve furrowed his brow at that. What did that mean? He opened his eyes, just a crack, and glanced up from his shoes, nearly screaming when he saw blue eyes and a wicked grin suddenly in front of him in the impossibly small space. Steve blinked in fright and it was gone. Like it had never even been there. Breathing wasn’t helping anymore. Not when he could feel something running through his hair, raking fingers combing it back all the way to the base of his neck. It made Steve shiver down to his toes. He loved having his hair messed with. Even a trip to the salon was a danger for being slightly turned on by the hair wash station.

God what was happening? Why couldn’t anyone else hear this voice? Why did Steve suddenly see crystal blue eyes?  Why was he having a breakdown now?

The hand left his hair and travelled down his spine, skin prickling in its firm wake, causing Steve’s back to arch with it. Down down until one hand became two and cupped his ass almost posessively. Another noise almost made its way out of Steve’s mouth in surprise.

Jesus baby, look at all this now. Goddamn shame for it to be all covered up in a monkey suit...

Was… Was that a complement? Steve shook his head, trying to get the voice to fall out of his ears, maybe shake loose the part of his brain that was shutting down and allowing any of this to happen. Certainly trying to shake away the thought that this actually felt good. That the hands now kneading his ass were actually pretty nice. Wide and definitely firm. Exactly what Steve liked. For a small moment he let himself enjoy it, maybe subconsciously pushing back, just a little, for more. The voice in his ear chuckled almost knowingly before the whole of Steve’s back just felt warm. Unnaturally warm. Stranger than if he was stood halfway under a heating vent or had his back against a radiator.

Let’s see what else you got huh?

The hands worked their way around Steve’s front, around his waist and down. Behind the messenger bag that was now having to hide the beginnings of a semi, through clothes that apparently he may as well not have even been wearing. Steve definitely felt a hand wrap around his cock like it was just out in the open, circlingly tight and giving one sharp tug. A noise bubbled and popped out of Steve’s mouth before he could stop it this time. An embarrassingly high moan because okay that really did feel good. Steve felt the flush burn his cheeks, keeping his head down towards the floor in the vain hope that no one was paying attention enough to know it was him. All lost in their own pre-work worlds. The voice laughed almost cruel in Steve’s ear. Mocking in a way as the phantom hand started playing more, working Steve into complete hardness, tenting his best work pants and pressing into the leather of the bag. Steve’s grip on the strap of it was turning his knuckles white.

God you’ve got a nice cock princess. Real nice. You got the whole package huh?

The whimper that left Steve’s bitten lips was shameful. He didn’t want this, didn’t ask for this, didn’t even know what was happening but, he didn’t really want it to stop. It had been a good few months since anything had touched him, aside from himself. And whatever was working him over felt so good. Practiced even. Different from Steve touching himself, tighter and rougher, but still good. He dug his feet firmer into the solid flood to stop his hips rocking into the feeling that was taking over, sweat starting to bead on his temples.

Mmm don’t be shy now baby. Bet a sweet lil’ thing like you just loves being all full…

Steve swallowed thick. What could that possibly even mean in this context? In the middle of morning rush hour on the busiest train Steve had ever been on in his life, shunting from station to station through Chicago towards the biggest opportunity he’d ever gotten, being groped and touched all over by an apparent ghost that just haunted the train? Was this a dream or a nightmare? Steve couldn’t even tell anymore. Maybe that was it. Maybe he was still in bed, having a stress dream. His alarm clock would blare any minute, he’d open his eyes and this would all be over. He’d be staring over at the closed bedroom door and not down at his shiny black shoes. He wouldn’t be feeling a small damp spot growing in his briefs. He wouldn’t feel the phantom hand leave his cock and start rolling his balls around slowly like marbles in a wide palm, and he certainly wouldn’t feel another hand around his throat, forcing his head up off the floor and towards the ceiling. An advert for insurance right there in front of him.

Bet you love suckin’ dick, huh pretty boy? Fuck, just made to take whatever you can get I bet. What I wouldn’t give to have those lips wrapped around me. Bet you could swallow me all the way down huh? No problem at all. Bet you ain’t had a gag reflex for a long time now...

Steve’s knees were starting to shake. This was all too much. He still wasn’t sure if it was a ghost or the voice of his subconscious ringing loud and true in his head. Because the voice wasn’t lying. Not even a little. The hand left his throat. Steve didn’t want to admit he missed it, feeling something that felt like a thumb press under the hinge of his jaw, fingers achingly close around his windpipe. He screwed his eyes shut, tight, trying to keep breathing and not pant or moan like his body wanted too, especially when the hand returned to his cock, now stroking with careless abandon.

Steve was going to come. He was going to come right in the middle of a subway train in his best suit less than an hour away from the biggest job interview of his life and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

But it wasn’t the stroking that was going to take him over the edge. No. It was the sudden feeling of something blunt and hot pressing up hard against his asshole. His eyes flew open and all he saw was his own reflection in the train doors, a flushed mess sweating out of his own skin like he’d come down with a sudden fever. Steve had enough life experience to know exactly what was going to happen. He couldn’t move from it, there was nowhere to go with everyone packed in like a sardine can. In true honestly he didn’t exactly want to move from it.

You want this baby? I promise it’ll feel so, so good.

Steve could only stare at his own reflection, his own eyes dark with lust and want and god he’d gone completely insane. The hands left his cock and wrapped themselves around his hips. Instinctively Steve arched back, practically presenting. That was his answer. He did want it. He wanted it bad.

Fuckin’ knew it...

The groan Steve heard in his head was sinful. So deep and sexy it was like the soundtrack of a porno playing just for him. But what he felt was even better. So impossibly good. Going from nothing to stretched out and full in just a few short moments with no pain. It was heaven. Steve couldn’t stop the small whimper from his throat even if he wanted too. The man reading the paperback coughed. Annoyed. He’d definitely heard that one. The voice laughed, rocked up and punched the air out of Steve’s lungs, those devilish hands letting go of Steve’s hips and travelling up to his chest again. This time deciding to play with both of his nipples, flicking and twisting and circling around and around. Steve wouldn’t have lips left after all this with how hard he was having to bite them.

He no longer cared what was happening. If he was having a breakdown then so be it, this all felt far too good. Like nothing he’d ever experienced before.

Rock for me baby. Let me know you like it...

The voice was so sultry Steve had no option but to obey, rocking small on the balls of his feet. The voice moaned loud and deep and it just sent pure sparks along Steve’s spine. It definitely felt like something was inside him, something thick stretching him open and fucking him without a care. Steve felt it thrusting in and out, setting a brutal pace straight away that just wouldn’t be possible. God it was incredible. The small wet patch was getting bigger, threatening to leak through and stain, but Steve didn’t have the brain power to care anymore. He shifted his bag ever so slightly over the sensitive head of his cock, using three layers of different materials to his advantage, making his eyes roll back into his head. The voice just laughed and went harder. It was a miracle Steve was still on his feet. Was pretty sure whatever was fucking him was the only thing keeping him upright anymore.

Fuck, look at you. Such a little slut. So desperate for a dick you’ll take anythin’. Ain’t that right princess? Nod for me darlin’, you know I’m right. Say it outloud. I wanna hear it.

Steve bit his lip harder. He couldn’t. That was just too much. That would be admitting that this was good to the world. That wasn’t about to happen. A hand wrapped itself around his throat again, head being dragged back up to the insurance advert, locking eyes with a picture of a smiling woman holding a set of keys. Steve gasped and the grip was tighter this time. The other hand was back around his cock. God he could feel fingers everywhere. Splayed over the expanse of his throat and squeezing. Trailing through his weeping slit, wrapping tight on the strokes up and down then trailing again. The dick fucking him was getting harder somehow, brushing over his prostate with every other thrust. Steve was going to explode. This would be how he died. On the L Train red line. They’d find his corpse with a gaping asshole and drained of every ounce of cum Steve could possibly ever make. No evidence to be found. No motivation for a killer.

Come on pretty boy. Say it. Say you love my cock.

The hand tightened enough for Steve to choke and cough. His brain was swimming. A coil had formed hot in his gut, winding tighter and tighter. Jesus there was no way this was about to happen.

Say it!

“I love you cock…” Steve barely muttered out, gasps and a moan spilling out too. The man with the book coughed again but Steve didn’t care anymore. He was lost in a world of invisible hands and see through dicks and a voice, a deep deep voice that was grunting and panting hot next to his ear. Steve kept rocking back, a deep part of him wanting to just fall to his knees and let this ghost or whatever take him mercilessly.

Yeah you do. Yeah you do. Fuck!

Steve gasped at the feeling of wetness that wasn’t his own, deep inside him. That was extremely real. There was no way it couldn’t be. The ghost kept rocking into him, spilling and apparently milking himself in Steve’s body. He’d never felt so violated before. But it poured pure gasoline on the burning fire. With one more stroke of an invisible hand Steve came in his pants, whimpering like he was about to cry as the world whited out, falling forward to brace his hands on the door so he didn’t just crumble and fall apart. He panted through his nose, deep and hard and heavy. His briefs felt disgusting sticking against his spent cock. The voice laughed breathy, what was probably a nose brushing behind Steve’s ear with apparent affection.

Fuck, that was good. Thanks pretty boy.

And with that everything stopped. Steve was left alone, up against the train doors. The hands and voice totally gone. The only evidence of their presence was buried deep inside him. Steve ran off the train as soon as it pulled into the next station. If it was his he didn’t care. The first lungful of air was bliss. He gulped it down like water in a desert, trying to clear his head, staring at the steel vehicle. If his pants weren’t sticking to him so uncomfortably Steve would argue with himself if anything had even happened. 

Blue eyes and that grin flashed through the glass of the doors. They winked and blew Steve a kiss before the train set off again, having to keep time through the city and its next stop.

Steve stayed on the platform for a while. A still beacon in an ocean of moving bodies, mentally trying to process what had happened but he just couldn’t. It was all far too much. Did he really just get fucked by a ghost? No, okay, one thing at a time. Pierce and Pierce. Job interview. He could ditch his briefs and try and block out this morning, he could still try. Piecing together his surroundings the office was only a few blocks away. He still had time to make it. Focus on one thing and one thing only. Don’t let them see the crazy. Prove everyone wrong.

Determined, Steve pressed on. His body felt truly fucked. His insides just felt wrong and out of place in a way that would be amazing if it wasn’t down to a spector’s wicked work. No. Don’t focus on that. Professional, not crazy. It was two blocks down that Steve came to a stop from his march, a sinking realisation setting in. Regardless of the outcome, he’d need to get the same train home. And that thought didn’t fill him with as much dread as it should have.

[trashyswitch]

The Adorable Slimy Stranger

Chapter 2: Holidays With The Sides (& Pumpkin!)

The sides are nearing Christmas, and are getting ready to celebrate and share the joy with their new companion, Pumpkin!

This fanfic was suggested by an anonymous user! Thank you for the prompt for a sequel!

And this fanfic is also dedicated to Pumpkinpaw! Love you sweety!

Pumpkin had become a regular household companion within the next few weeks. When deciding what pronouns to use, the sides had put down papers that said ‘Boy’, ‘Girl’, and ‘both’, to mean they/them.

“Do you wanna be a girl? As in, a good girl?” Patton asked, pointing to the pink card.

“Or perhaps a boy? A good boy?” Logan offered, pointing to the blue card.

“Or maybe you wanna be both! Maybe ‘buddy’, or ‘good pumpa’?” Roman asked, holding up the purple card.

Patton gasped. “That’s such a cute nickname! Pumpa! I love it!” Patton cheered, hugging Roman.

Pumpkin looked at the three cards curiously for a few seconds. Right as someone was gonna speak up, Pumpkin picked up the pink card, pointed to it and tried to gurgle the word ‘girl’ as best as it could!

Patton and Roman both squealed excitedly, while Logan smiled proudly. “Girl it is. Pumpkin shall now be referred to as a female, until she shows us otherwise.” Logan declared.

“I’m still gonna call her lil’ pumpa tho! It’s perfect!” Patton added, giving Pumpkin a big hug.

“And she has at least 1 new nickname.” Logan muttered proudly with a chuckle.

To make things greater, it was nearing Christmas and EVERYONE was getting into the christmas mood!

Patton has been watching all the Hallmark movies and decorating the house with all the tinsel and lights he could summon. He also took time to hang up the advent calendars and had an elf hat on his head every second of the day!

Logan has been drinking out of christmas mugs, determining the holiday board games they could play together, and has been listening to different christmas music covers to determine the most beautiful and/or most classic versions. Using that knowledge, Logan successfully came up with the most christmassy playlist he could make, which also included songs from classic christmas films! And let’s not forget Bing Crosby and Pentatonix!

Roman has been singing christmas carols himself and wrapping up endless amounts of presents to fill the bottom of the christmas tree. He’s also spent lots of time making ornaments to add to the tree and was even sewing up adorable christmas outfits for Patton and himself! Remus even got an early Christmas outfit, which included a ‘King of Naughty’ original Grinch shirt.

Meanwhile, Virgil has been enjoying the heck outta the christmas sweaters that came out each year. This year? Thomas’s brand new Virgil-themed sweater merchandise Thomas came out with! Well...minus the scarf. Virgil found the scarf to be too much with the sweater. So, he gave it to Patton. Virgil has also been enjoying the holiday slippers! This year, Virgil was sporting a pair of hilarious shark slippers! Sometimes, Virgil would joke that ‘The sharks are hungry for feet!’

Janus has been enjoying watching the christmas baking shows and has been playing lots of christmas flash games that are always around. Super Santa Kicker, Christmas Race, Christmas Shopper Simulator (10/10, Best game of 2014!), Tattletail, Santa’s Rampage, even that crappy christmas wii game called ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas’! All of those games were common-place.

Last but not least, Remus has been doing the elf on the shelf this year (with a small list of rules, of course.) and has been surprising people with singing and dancing christmas decorations everywhere! There was the animated singing rudolph, the twerking Santa Claus toy (Yup...Of course…), the singing and jingling christmas hat, that cringey but funny dancing/singing poop toy, an animated dancing tree, the animated singing santa in the bathtub, and everyone’s personal favorite: The Snoopy dancing plush toy that wobbles back and forth!

But everyone found that Pumpkin was ALSO in the christmas mood! The sides enjoyed seeing her reactions to the dancing toys the best, and even danced along with the toys sometimes! She waddled along with snoopy, danced left and right with the dancing tree, and sang to the Rudolph song while Rudolph sang the classic song!

Meanwhile, Patton had sewed up a christmas hat for Pumpkin. The hat had a more burgundy red color, a traditional white bottom and a white pom pom on the top. When Patton first gave it to the orange blob, Pumpkin placed it on her own head and let the pompom flop onto her face. Upon seeing the pompom, it looked as if her eyes could’ve dilated and she started playing with the pompom like a kitty. That was the best reaction they could’ve gotten from her!

One of the days, Pumpkin was sitting in the living room with the sides, watching The Polar Express on TV. This was a holiday classic that the sides loved to watch together. So joining Pumpkin in on the fun was a must! The train had just been saved from falling into the ice, and the train climbed up the spiral to the high road to the north pole. Pumpkin had slid herself over to Roman and Patton, and snuggled under the extra blanket that was beside the boys. Pumpkin was also wearing her santa hat!

Watching the pretty lights in the sky over the sea, Pumpkin watched curiously as the big conductor man talked to them about them and then uttered the following words: “There...is the north POLE!”

Pumpkin ran as quickly as her body could to the TV and reached up to the north pole on the TV. She backed up a little and held her hands on her chin as the train approached the Santa Village and The Polar Express song started playing! The song was so quick and fun, and it didn’t take long for Pumpkin to start bouncing up and down to the song while she watched the camera move under the twisting train road arches.

“Oooooo!” Pumpkin reacted to seeing the Santa city for the first time.

Patton’s heart was all warm and gushing at Pumpkin’s reactions. Roman was visibly excited about the village as well!

The christmas spirit went uphill from there. Pumpkin learned about the big old man in red known as Santa and his big bag of toys, his deers with horns, and about the big man’s magical powers! He especially loved the amount of joy that filled the sides when they talked about the man wearing red. Whoever this red-coated man was, made the sides so happy! Almost as happy as she makes them! And not only that, but the man in the red suit had a hat just like she did! She was bouncing around and clapping about that!

But excitement soon turned into disappointment when she found out she had to wait for the man in the red suit to come. She didn’t want to wait for the happy old man to come! She wanted to see him now! NOW! She whimpered and paced around the house as she struggled to wait for the old man to come. So while they waited, Logan grabbed a paper and some crayons and let Pumpkin draw a picture for Santa. While that happened, Logan wrote a short christmas letter out for her which read:

[Dear Santa Claus;

Hi Santa! My name is Pumpkin! I just found out about you and the elves in the north pole, and really wanted to see you! I’m sad that I have to wait for you to come, but I’ll try to find fun things to do while I wait for you. For Christmas, I would like lots of candy! Candy is so yummy! And skittles are my favorite! I also love Patton’s crunchy gingerbread cookies! That day, I discovered icing! And it made me bounce off the walls! I would also like for everyone to be extra happy this Christmas. I’m making people happy everyday, but now I can let you make everyone happy too.

Love; Pumpkin! ]

Logan put the letter down, and looked at the picture Pumpkin drew. It was a picture of herself tickling Santa Claus’s belly. Logan couldn’t help but giggle at how Santa’s belly in the picture made him look like he was pregnant. He also giggled at the big smile that was all spread out on Santa’s face. Logan praised her on a drawing well done, and decided to add something to the letter:

[P.S: Your belly looks very big and ticklish!]

Logan grabbed the drawing Pumpkin made, photocopied it, and put the copied version of the drawing in the envelope along with the letter. With everything ready, Logan sealed it shut. “There. Off to the North Pole!” Logan declared to Pumpkin!

Logan mailed it off in the post office a day later.

With Christmas on its way and Pumpkin stuck in a bit of an antsy wait for the magic, Pumpkin started to tickle people a little more often than usual. Any other time of the year, Pumpkin would tickle at least 1 person a day. But with Christmas around the corner and Pumpkin growing hyper, Pumpkin had started tickling all the sides at least once a day! So her tickle attacks jumped from 1 or 2, to 6 every single day!

“NAHAHAHAHAHA! PUHUHUMPKIHIHIHIHIN! NAHAHAHAT MYHYHY AHAHARMPIHIHITS! TOHOHOHOO TIHIHIHICKLIHIHIHISH!” Roman laughed hysterically!

Pumpkin tilted her head curiously, and chose to remove her pods from the armpits like he begged. Roman quickly tried to gain back his breath, but Pumpkin still wanted to hear laughter! So, she made her pod super thin like a pencil and dipped it into his belly button.

“aAAAAEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHE! *snort* HAHAHAHAHAHA! *snort* NOHOHOHO FAHAHAHAHAHAIR!” Roman yelled through his laughter.

Pumpkin playfully stuck her tongue out at him and started to playfully nibble and ripple her blob-like body all over his belly.

Roman’s snorts grew more frequent and his laughter turned cackle-like. It was so ticklish! He was struggling to properly breath! But it was so fun! Roman had been tickled many, many, MANY times by Patton in the past. But THIS!

Holy cow!

Patton’s tickling was NOTHING compared to this!

Pumpkin decided to give him another ticklish, jiggly raspberry to get him squealing. And squealing, she was rewarded! Roman squealed so loud and so high-pitched, that Pumpkin stopped immediately just to process the strange sound!

Roman was a laughing, snorting mess after the squeal. And Pumpkin was loving every millisecond of it. As much as she was enjoying it however, Pumpkin knew when to give the man a long, giggly break. This would involve cuddling her ticklish victim and gently tickling a much less ticklish spot on their body to keep them giggling, but also let them breathe. For Roman, this was his neck.

“Ohohohohohokahahahahahay. Thahahahank yohohohou Puhuhumpkihin!” Roman told her.

Pumpkin smiled and gave his neck a tickly kiss on the neck. Roman giggled more from that, and calmed down the moment her ‘lips’ moved away from his neck. Pumpkin kept up her giggly tickling for a little bit longer before she went for Janus next.

Now, Pumpkin didn’t quite know Janus nearly as much as she knew the rest of the sides. She had even grown to know Remus quicker, than compared to Janus! The half man half snake in yellow, was more mysterious and...preferred his lonely time. So, she gave him his lonely time for the most part. She did come around to see if he was up for a tickle or two, but often walked away empty-handed, yet gaining some progress.

Finally, after weeks and weeks of trying, Pumpkin finally gained the courage to tickle Janus for the first time. She walked up to Janus’s side very quietly...geeently snuck her pod hand under the snake man’s shirt...and gave it a quick tickle.

“eeEEP! WHAT-” Janus turned around and immediately calmed down. Pumpkin made a surprised yip sound, and backed up a little to give him space. “Hi Pumpkin. Sorry about that. I...totally heard you come in.” Janus told her.

...Oh yeah...and then there was the strange way he talked to her and the other sides. He said things backwards. Like just now: if he actually heard her come in, then why was he so surprised and jumpy?

Things like that didn’t make sense to her. But what did make sense, was his calming face. “You tried to tickle me today. You...finally tried and tickled me. And it worked.” Janus told her.

Pumpkin didn’t really know what to do. She was confused. Was anything he was saying, supposed to be backwards? Or normal? Pumpkin couldn’t tell. But all that thinking went right out the window when Janus held his arms out for her. He wanted a hug from her! There was no saying no to THAT! Pumpkin quickly slid up to him and hugged him tightly.

“Wow! You have a very snug and firm hug for a jello being.” Janus admitted.

Jello? Like that blue jiggly stuff that Logan made once?

Pumpkin let him enjoy the hug for a bit. She wanted him to feel safe in her grasp. And perhaps, she may not get any tickles in today. But the only thing that mattered now, is that Janus could be hugged now.

“...Aren’t you gonna tickle me more?” Janus asked.

Pumpkin widened her black eyes. Wait, REALLY?! HE WAS GONNA LET HER TICKLE HIM?! This was what she was waiting for! 16 days of working up to this! And now, she can tickle him!

Pumpkin happily started skittering her pods all over his sides and ribs almost immediately! “Ohoho bohohoy! Hehehere wehehe gohohohoho!” Janus giggled and let go of her so she could get more access to more exposed ticklish spots. Pumpkin happily took the offer and made more pseudopods so she could tickle more spots at once. This was like a special attack that Pumpkin would pull on someone. “aaAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! YOHOHOU’RE SURPRIHIHISIHIHINGLY GOHOHOOD AHAHAT THIHIHIHIS!” Janus reacted in surprise.

Pumpkin gurgled happily to Janus and continued to tickle Janus wherever she could reach. The upside to having such a jiggly form, was just how well she could kneed the soft spots on her humans! This included the sides and his belly the most. Janus held his fists against his chest as his giggle fits, squeals and laughter filled his bedroom.

Pumpkin absolutely loved his laugh! It was much more bubbly and higher than she expected! It was such an amazing laugh, that Pumpkin chose to give him jiggly raspberries as well! He seemed like the kind of human that would love them! Pumpkin blew a raspberry on his sensitive belly and let her blobby, jello-like body flubber and jiggle to increase the ticklish sensation.

Janus fell into long fits of cackles! He couldn’t stop cackling! Now that he had reached the cackle-stage, there was just no going back! His laughter somewhat reminded Pumpkin of Patton’s laughter: bubbly, childish, and the musical representation of happiness. Though Janus’s wasn’t exactly like his, it was close enough.

“OHOHOKAHAHAHAY! CAHAHAN IHIHIHI HAHAHAVE AHA BREHEHEHEAK PLEHEHEHEASE?” Janus asked.

Pumpkin nodded her head and stopped tickling him almost immediately. As much as she enjoyed the sound of his laughter, she didn’t wanna overdo it. So Pumpkin snuggled herself into Janus and cooed softly.

Janus giggled at this and wrapped his arms around her. “Growing tired?” He asked.

Pumpkin nodded and snuggled herself even further into him.

“That’s ironic, considering I was the one getting tickled.” He joked.

Pumpkin let out a giggly little gurgle as she slowly succumb to her sleepiness. It didn’t take long for the tiredness to start dripping right off her and onto Janus, effecting him as well. Now Janus was growing more and more tired by the second. Janus decided he minus well cuddle himself in and get himself comfy.

It didn’t take long for Janus to fall into a full and deep slumber. It lasted a long while too. Janus didn’t expect to wake up to the smell of garlic or the sounds of something boiling. The garlic was an obvious thing to put together: garlic bread. But boiling? That could be anything!

This boiling sound would end up revealing itself to be spaghetti noodles in a deep pot. As it turned out, Patton was making spaghetti with garlic bread on the side. For Pumpkin, she was gonna have gummy worms with a new little christmas treat for Pumpkin: a Peppermint Pattie! Patton gave her one to try, and had a few unwrapped in a bowl in case she loved it and wanted more.

Pumpkin picked up the peppermint pattie first. She looked at it curiously, split it into two pieces, and ate one of the halves hesitantly. But the moment she chewed on it and actually tasted the pattie, her eyes widened and a HUGE smile grew onto her face!

Remus giggled as he spun his spaghetti. “Ihi think Pumpkin likes the peppermint pattie!” Remus told him.

Patton looked over and sure enough, Pumpkin was standing below him and eagerly reaching her pods out for more peppermint patties! Patton laughed and happily put more peppermint patties onto her dinner plate. Pumpkin happily bounced in place as she ate the gummy worms and enjoyed the taste of the brand new holiday treat.

[peaceoutofthepieces]

chapter 17.5

When We Eclipse

I found it a little weird doing two of these so close together, but just so everyone knows where Lucas is at ❤️ and yes...this really is a slow burn huh

~^~

Jens unlocks the door with a little more care than usual, slightly worried about startling Lucas or waking him from a sleep. Kes had worried him with his warnings, and he isn’t sure what exactly to expect. Especially finding the door locked in the first place. Lucas hasn’t answered any of his texts. Jens isn’t even sure if he’s seen them. Either way, he knows Jens should be back around this time. Should be expecting him. Jens considers the possibility that he is, and left the door locked anyway, and thanks about maybe bunking somewhere else for the night. Then he considers the possibility that Lucas hasn’t even realised what time it is, that something’s over-occupying his brain, and that he needs Jens. 

Or well, not Jens. But someone. Jens isn’t in a safe enough position to allow himself to think Lucas would need him specifically. 

The room is dark, and oddly silent, when he enters. He almost expects to hear the scratch of pencil on paper, or at least the quiet murmurings of a laptop, but there’s nothing. His keys make a seemingly deafening clatter on his desk in comparison as he sets them down alongside his bagged takeaway. The curtains are drawn, and the room falls into even more darkness as Jens shuts the door behind him. He has to wait for his eyes to adjust before he can make out the lump on one of the beds. 

His bed. 

This is entirely uncharted territory, and if Jens were a weaker man, he’d turn and thump his head against the wall, or better yet, run. Instead, he’s able to pull himself under control with a few deep breaths. He can’t think about those particular thoughts right now. No matter how much harder it is, considering his recent revelations. 

He’s assuming Lucas is curled up on his bed for a reason, and it probably isn’t good. 

He approaches carefully, shrugging off his jacket as he goes. He lays it at the end of the bed while murmuring a soft, “Luc?” 

The lump doesn’t move. 

Okay. Jens can deal with this. Jens can totally deal with this. This is perfectly fine. Maybe Lucas is just...asleep. Asleep in Jens’s bed, at eight in the evening. With the covers pulled right up over his head. That’s possible, right?

The covers move, slipping down slightly to reveal a bundle of curls. Purposefully shifted. Not asleep, then. 

“Hey,” Jens tries again, adding a little volume to his voice while maintaining that same soft tone. “I brought back some food. Ordered a side of bitter balls, just for you.” Lucas stays quiet. “Or...did you already eat?”

At this point, he isn’t expecting an answer, and he’s not surprised to be met with silence. He’s disappointed, however, and even more worried than he had been when he’d come in. He gingerly sits on the edge of the bed, careful not to situate himself too close to Lucas, not wanting him to retreat further. “Luc. Hey. Can you talk to me? I’ll leave you alone if you want, but just let me know you’re okay.”

“Don’t leave.”

The reply is almost inaudible, muffled by the duvet, but it’s enough for Jens. It’s something. Even though that something seems fearful, he’ll take it. “Okay. I’m here.” Lucas is once again silent, so Jens tries returning to the questions. “Is it okay if I turn on the lamp?” 

A pause, then a nod. Jens shifts up the bed a little and leans over to reach the lamp on the locker between their beds, flicking it on. Lucas doesn’t react to the change, and Jens only has to blink a few times to readjust. After that he tries to go for something more. “Do you want some food?”

There’s a hesitation this time, but also an eventual answer. “I’m not hungry.”

Jens can’t really do anything about that. The concerned tug in his chest doesn’t matter. “Okay. If you want I can save it for you, heat it up later?”

Again, Lucas doesn’t give a response. Jens takes it as a go ahead and decides the food will be kept for later. He takes his own from the bag and migrates to Lucas’s bed, sitting criss-cross in the center and staring at his roommate’s back as he eats. 

At some stage, Lucas speaks up again, voice scratchy. “I’m sorry, I’ll give you back your bed, I just…”

He trails off, and Jens doesn’t know what he just, but it doesn’t matter. “It’s okay. You can stay there, if you want.”

This drops them into silence again. Jens gets up to deposit his takeaway container in the bin, then hesitantly approaches Lucas again. “Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

“...I’m okay.”

“Do you want to talk? I missed you, the pass few days.”

Jens worries, even before he says it, that it’s an overstep. Lucas’s lack of reaction does nothing to tamper down his panic. Then suddenly, before his thoughts convince him into saying something even more stupid, Lucas is rolling over and looking at him. 

It’s a sight Jens hadn’t been prepared for. His hair is messier than usual, falling over his forehead and tickling the tops of his ears—not immaculately styled out of the way, as usual. His lips are turned down in a pout, cheeks rosy and damp. But it’s the dullness of his light blue eyes, the exhaustion and moisture there, that tugs painfully at Jens’s heart. 

“Luc,” is all he manages to say, sorrowful, and Lucas turns his face into the pillow and hides himself away again. “What’s going on, huh?”

Lucas just shrugs his shoulders up to his ears, shaking his head, and it’s the most gutting gesture Jens has ever witnessed. 

“Can I sit with you, for a little while? Would that be okay?”

Jens has to wait just a moment before Lucas nods, and then he quickly moves to slide into the small bit of space next to him. Lucas shifts back towards the wall, leaving as much space as he can, and it stops Jens from settling as close as he’d like. He sits propped against the pillows, looking down at Lucas and wondering what he should do. He doesn’t know how to help. He doesn’t know what Lucas needs. He doesn’t know what happened—what left Lucas in this state, what’s going through his mind. All he knows is that his friend is upset and he’ll do anything he can to make it better. Lucas had asked him to stay, so he’s staying. 

After a lengthy consideration, he sifts his hand through Lucas’s curls once, testing. Lucas closes his eyes, expression pinched, even tenser than before, but he tilts his head towards Jens. So Jens repeats the gesture. Once, then once more, picking up a light rhythm as Lucas presses into his touch. 

God, he could not have chosen a worse time to figure out just how much he likes him. 

His plan had been to take care with Lucas from now on, to keep their interactions on a more casual level until his feelings could pass. All he could have hoped is that it would be easy to avoid Lucas with their increasing workloads and Lucas wouldn’t notice a thing, and by the time he was forced into returning to normal he would have returned to normal. He hadn’t prepared for this possibility. He hadn’t even considered this being a possibility. He can’t ignore Lucas like this. He couldn’t even bear to move a few feet away. 

The way Lucas’s hand comes to clench in his sweater certainly isn’t helping him get over anything. He wants to bundle Lucas up in his arms and kiss whatever pain he’s feeling away. 

Which really isn’t where his mind should be at. 

“I’m sorry,” Lucas mumbles. 

Jens frowns down at him. “What are you apologising for?” Lucas just shifts to press his head to Jens’s hip, not answering. “You don’t need to be sorry. It’s okay.” He waits a minute before asking, “You sure you don’t want to eat anything?”

Lucas shakes his head. 

“Okay. Well, I brought you something else back, if you want to see it?”

At that, Lucas pauses, shifting up and away to look at Jens. “You brought me something?”

“Yeah. You basically demanded it, didn’t you?” Jens teases, raising a brow. Lucas doesn’t react as he usually would, doesn’t clap back with some sarcastic comment or even roll his eyes. He does, however, let his hand slide from Jens’s sweater. Jens takes that as the permission it is and rises to retrieve his bag from next to the door. He hunkers down, rifling through it until he can procure the small gift before rising with it tucked behind his back. Lucas watches him through heavy lids, still mostly unresponsive. Jens waits until he’s settled next to him again before offering the item to Lucas: a small, ‘artistic’ teddy bear, complete with paintbrush in one hand and a pallet in the other. There’s even a tiny black beret adorning his fluffy head, and he’s wrapped carefully in a mini white t-shirt. 

“A mini you.” Jens nudges the bear towards his chest, and Lucas slowly reaches up to grab it. He holds it carefully as he examines it, running his thumb over the splashes of ‘paint’ on the palette. Jens isn’t sure what to make of this silent reaction, until Lucas’s eyes feel with tears and he decides to be horrified. 

“Hey, hey, shit, sorry, it was dumb, I just thought that—I can just take it back and—“

“Shut up, Jens, you’re not taking him,” Lucas protests, and it’s so surprising to hear him say so many words at once that Jens does, in fact, shut up. Lucas clutches the little bear close to his chest and closes his eyes again, shaking his head as his face scrunches up, as if in pain. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

Jens realises it for the hidden compliment it is and laughs quietly, brushing his hand through Lucas’s hair again and murmuring, “You’re welcome.” 

Lucas releases a shaky sigh. It takes a moment before he speaks, barely a whisper. Jens isn’t even sure he’s supposed to hear him, but he does. “Please don’t hate me.”

“What?” Jens’s brow furrows. He slides down in the bed so he’s in a more reclined position, so his head is a little closer to Lucas’s. “Why would I hate you?”

Lucas just shrugs helplessly. 

“Luc,” Jens pokes at his cheek before taking his chin in hand and directing his gaze up at him. “I could never hate you. For whatever dumb reason your head is telling you. You’re the best, okay? I could never hate you,” he repeats. 

It takes a moment. But eventually, Lucas nods, even as a few stray tears begin dampening his cheeks. He reaches up to harshly wipe them away, until Jens catches his hand and gently pushes it away, catching the tears himself before tugging Lucas into his chest. 

He’s still, at first, letting his fingers curl in Jens’s sweater, before his shoulders are shaking in earnest and Jens wraps him up tighter. There are so many things he wants to ask. 

What’s tormenting you? How long have you been feeling this way? How often do you feel this way? Have I missed it, before? How can I make it stop?

It reminds him of Sander, the one time he’d shown up at Robbe’s house to find himself barred from the boy’s room when the blonde showed up looking exhausted and lost. Jens had offered to go, but Sander had insisted he stay, so he and Robbe had moved their study to the kitchen while Sander holed up with his sketchbook and the reassurance of Robbe’s nearby presence. It wasn’t until Robbe had gone to join him when Jens was packing up to leave, when he’d taken a quick trip to the bathroom and paused outside Robbe’s door, that he saw how Sander waited before allowing himself to break down. 

He doesn’t know if Lucas has done the same, and doesn’t really want to allow himself to make the comparison. He can’t possibly be of comfort to Lucas the way Robbe is to his boyfriend. 

But he can do his best. 

He slips on down, lying out fully next to Lucas in the cramped space, suddenly glad he hadn’t chosen to wear jeans. He adjusts his hold on the other boy, moving his hand back into his hair as Lucas tucks his face into his neck. Jens draws him in, closer, closer, until Lucas is clinging to his back instead with the arm around his torso and his shoulders have stopped shaking. He continues letting out little trembling breaths, however, brushing lightly over Jens’s skin, and Jens remembers what he’d asked of him. 

“I’m here, Luc. I’m not leaving.”

Lucas presses closer, crushing his little bear between their chests. But when Jens goes to remove it, Lucas only clings tighter, so Jens wraps his arm back around him without a word. 

The arm he has tucked under Lucas’s head is already starting to go dead, but it doesn’t bother him as much as it probably should. Not even as Lucas’s weight turns heavier, sinking into the mattress and curling impossibly closer as his breaths finally even out, falling into a light sleep. 

Jens knows he shouldn’t follow him. That allowing himself to have this, to stay like this through the night when Lucas isn’t in a state to argue, isn’t going to be good for either of them. But Lucas’s tiny breaths against his collarbone and the tight grip he has on Jens even in his sleep is really working to counteract that clap. He thinks, for some reason, that Lucas does need this. Is scared in a very true sense of Jens leaving. 

So Jens stays. 

He’ll have plenty of time to regret it in the morning. 

[shuuenmei]

resolution

BEFORE WE BEGIN:

Admittedly, I didn’t want to reveal this at first but after some thought and discussions, I decided to publish this out. This contains a big part of what I plan for Yuu (Rei) and how “black or white” will run in the future, and because it’s potentially very long, I’m placing this under the cut.

The sound of the clock ticking is the only thing keeping her company as she searched through the library.

Not this book, not that book, not this one either.

She doesn’t know how much time has passed, but she doesn’t care.

She had to keep looking.

She refused to stay helpless and vulnerable like how she nearly died from those vine thorns-

She find herself idly touching onto her neck now covered in the bandages to hide the tiny scars from those thorns.

There’s so many things happening in such a quick span of time she finds herself unable to properly react and adjust how to adapt and survive.

“You were on a near dangerous spot, pup.” The words of her homeroom teacher rang when he was called by the headmaster to check on how severe her injuries were shortly after they brought Riddle back to his senses.

Of how she was lucky to have escaped strangulation when the vines enclosed on her neck.

Of how she nearly died from blood loss due to the thorns piercing her skin.

And the situation now truly sunk on her that she could have truly died not long after arriving in this world.

A deep, deep part of her mind screamed, feeling that for the first time, she wanted to live and survive.

To struggle for survival than to succumb to the temptation of sleeping forever, never waking up.

I don’t want to die I don’t want to die-

“That’s quite a heavy stack of books, little one.”

She couldn’t help but jump at the voice calling her from behind.

Her head turned to see who it was that spoke.

“You surprise me Lilia-san.”

The older student gave out a light hearted chuckle in response.

“It’s good to see you.” He greeted before he wondered. “Now what brings you here to the library?”

“I wanted to look up something.” She answered.

She made up her mind after her homeroom teacher’s diagnosis of her state.

She honestly still feel sluggish from the injuries she had and Professor Crewel issued a permit to Coach Vargas to excuse her (And by extension, Grim) from physical education class until she is fully recovered.

With much time to spare after the rather disastrous duel yesterday, she decided to head over to the library.

There’s something that she wished to know about and if she can’t find what she’s looking for... she’ll just have to make do.

“That’s quite a lot of books you were holding.” He pointed towards the stack of books she was holding.

“It’s fine Lilia-san, I can handle this.” She shook her head as the two started to walk their way towards the table where she placed her bag and some of the books she had borrowed earlier.

“I heard you and your friends called for a duel with Riddle yesterday.” Lilia started once he was seated.

“Ah, so everyone heard about it?”

“It’s quite impossible to not know it, little one.” The old fae chuckled.

She numbly nodded, her hand idly reaching out to her neck as if there is lingering pain sticking to her neck like a phantom.

The fae’s magenta eyes looked at the covers of the books she had brought, now placed on the table.

“Hmm, interesting choices you have there.” With an ever present smile, he used magic to make the heavy books float to his way.

“The Origin of Magic, History of Magic Tools... they all seem to cater towards a specific time frame, to an even older time...” The fae soon implored as he placed the books down. “What has brought you to wish to learn such a subject?”

She pondered for a moment.

Should she speak about it?

She may have only known about Lilia for a few days, a week, even. But she felt that she can truly trust this older student and ask for his aid.

The Headmaster doesn’t seem too keen in watching over her own well being and had a very hands-off approach.

He’s not the kind of person she’d trust her worries of.

In contrast, Lilia, in his own way, had been helping her from the start.

The Headmaster may have tried, but seeing first hand at how he seems to be giving a hands-off approach, how she was told that the Headmaster wouldn’t have rushed her to the infirmary and call for Professor Crewel immediately until the fact that she is nearly dying from blood loss truly sunk in, with the rest of Heartslabyul having to urge him out to get her the aid she needed.

(There’s something about the Headmaster that reminded her of an ill memory of the past, but she has yet to recall the full context of it all.)

Lilia, from the way he speaks and how he treated her, makes her think of the senior as an almost father like figure.

Doting yet keeping a firm watch of those he consider his children.

So she took her chance and spoke quietly.

Of the events that led to Riddle Rosehearts overblotting.

________________________________________________________________

“...I see. That explains the bandages covering your neck.”

She nodded.

“...But pray tell, what convinced you to search for a specific time frame involving magic in the days of old?”

She didn’t say a word to Lilia, deep in thought, trying to think of an answer.

It was a spur of a moment and she couldn’t help but be curious.

Curious to know if there is a point of time where people are not naturally born with magic.

Maybe those of old do magic differently than those who lived in the present.

She also vaguely remember of a story she once read of how people of the past request the world to lend their energy to use magic.

If such method also exist here, does she have a chance to survive?

So she won’t be so weak, helpless and vulnerable like today-

Still, there’s a chance that she won’t be able to find what she searched for.

But nevertheless, she doesn’t want to give up so easily and find a way so she can survive in this unfamiliar world.

She needs to see the end of the tale that she is entangled in no matter what.

She found her answer.

“...I just don’t want to stay weak and helpless as I am right now.”

She spoke and continued.

“After I was told of how I nearly died... I felt myself getting reminded of how easily vulnerable I was as a magicless person.”

She clenched her right hand to a fist, her nails dug onto her skin deep enough to hurt.

“I’m an easy target to the whole school as the lone magicless person. Regardless of how I’m actually capable of being able to fight back, all my skills... they had limits. I can’t always depend on my new friends all the time, and eventually, I’ll run out of options and will get badly hurt like how I did today.”

She had decided, her resolution to her decision firm.

“So I plan to look for an information that can potentially help me survive against other students who would try and target me for as long as I’m here. I refuse to be an easy target just because I’m the lone anomaly of this school.”

That’s all that there is to it.

She wanted to survive longer in a world where she is placed in between many prideful magicians who could potentially end her life with their magic if they so wish it.

Maybe she won’t be a burden to her new friends that way.

She felt Lilia’s silent gaze at her prickling, almost like he is scrutinizing her.

“Do you have an empty paper available to use?” Lilia questioned after a moment of silence.

“I can tear one page off, but what do you plan to use with it?”

Lilia smiled. “You’ll see, little one.”

Despite the fae’s cryptic reply, she obliged and brought out one of her spare notebooks, ripping one of the papers out and handed it to him.

“May I borrow a writing pen as well?”

She wondered where this is going but gave the fae one of her blue pens in the pencil case.

Lilia draw a large set of letters enough to fill a whole paper that is set in a landscape like orientation.

When he is finished, he threw the paper above him and spoke out what sounded like a magical chant in a language she couldn’t recognize.

In response to the fae’s chant, the letters written in the paper glowed, almost like magic, and then the paper shifted it’s shape, shredded into small parts and then rained down on the table, small cuts formed at the empty space of wooden table besides them, as if the paper has turned into small shards of blades.

“Oh, I still had it in me to use them.” Lilia mused at the sight as the papers soon disintegrated into dust, residual magical energy following it. “Well, I shall repair it soon enough lest that young librarian aim for my neck.”

As Lilia reached for his magical pen and used his magic to fix the table, she felt herself feeling awed at the sight of the paper turned to small sharp shards.

“That was just a normal pen right...” She utter out.

She had to wonder how it was possible.

All that the fae did was just drawing rune like letters onto the paper...

“Indeed it is.” The fae answered her.

“I simply use the paper as a medium and the letters as a gateway for magical energy to enter the medium and give form to what the medium will function as.”

The fae’s serene smile remained ever-plastered on his lips. “Simply put, what I did is request for the world to lend me their magic through a medium.”

“...So you used the world’s magical energy instead of using the one that most magicians are born with?”

So such method existed here...

“Bingo, little one.” The fae gave out a good natured chuckle. Elaborating. “Before wands and magical pens came to be, people of days old once used to ask the world to do magic for them. However, this method had since been considered obsolete as society advances due to how many requirements it takes to actually use the world’s magical energy.”

He put the magical pen back into the pockets of his vest. Concluding. “For you, someone who is inherently magicless, this should be the perfect method for you to defend yourself should any of the other students dare to attack you with magic.”

Her eyes lit up. Feeling a glimmer of hope at the senior’s words.

“Are you sure you don’t mind teaching me?”

“Why of course not.” Lilia smiled at her. Reasoning.

“You are but a young lady thrown into an unfamiliar place with little to no contact of anyone you are familiar with, and no way of being able to return to whence you came from. You also happen to be placed in a school of prideful, magicians who can get easily provoked with little prompting, and can potentially harm and give you fatal injuries should they wish to do so. Anyone with a child of their own would worry for you.”

His smile then curved to a frown. “Though I supposed Crowley doesn’t seem to be that keen in regards to your safety following today’s events.”

After what happened yesterday, and of today, she felt what little trust she had on the Headmaster start to crumble.

She can’t completely trust the man anymore after today.

Not when he’s all too content to leave her to fend for her own self outside of providing her the basic necessities and the like.

(Deep down, that unpleasant feeling, almost like seething anger, of a memory she has yet to recall of people acting like the headmaster echoed in her mind)

She soon felt a hand on her head.

She was brought out of her thoughts as she realized that Lilia is patting her.

The gesture felt familiar to her.

Like a parent’s firm hand, guiding and assuring the child.

“The weekend is soon and it’s best that you recover first.” Lilia let his hand go as he advised her.

“I shall be free to teach you how to utilize the world’s magic to aid you for Monday, Wednesday and Thursday after school in the library. Is that an alright time for you?”

“...Yeah, that’s a good time.”

She felt herself smiling wide, almost genuine, grateful for the senior’s help.

“...Really, thank you for this. Lilia-san.”

The Diasomnia vice dorm head smiled back. “It is of no trouble, young one.”

Yep, this is what I planned for Yuu (Rei) in light of Heartslabyul and onwards. She doesn’t stay magicless for long.

This was inspired by the formalcraft concept from the Fate series, where you make the world do the magic for you. Think of it as not using your own MP in video games and use a specialized item that does the magic in RPG games.

Yuu (Rei) is still magicless inherently. So the method only makes her a magician by a technicality. Rather than making her an actual pure magician overnight.

As for why I went this route for Yuu (Rei):

1: The SI in Yuu (Rei) only know Twisted Wonderland based on Pre-release trailers and as such, has zero expectations of what the game would actually be. She doesn’t know that the game was meant to be a Joseimuke genre game with RPG, action and rhythm game mechanics mixed in, and only know based on what she could remember of the original stories the Disney movies are based on and the Disney movies that she remember watching, outside of what she remembers of the Pre-Release trailers. As far as Yuu (Rei)’s impression of the game’s story goes, she thought that she is in an FGO-esque Shounen genre story. So it’s either she stays magicless and die quickly, or survive and get stronger.

2: While yes, it’s established that it’s against the rules to use magic on others for personal fights, the main story proves that a good portion of the NRC student body WILL use magic on others when prompted. Unlike Ace, Deuce and Grim, the canon MC is completely defenseless. Despite Yuu (Rei)’s friendship with the ghosts and her own physical skills in Kendou, every single one of them has limits. Lando isn’t always guaranteed to tag along with her 24/7, someone will use magic to destroy the makeshift sword she had first before beating her down and giving her fatal injuries via magic. Additionally, Ace, Deuce and Grim won’t always be with her, so she’ll eventually run out of options to defend herself. At the end of the day, the real world doesn’t give a damn about what narrative importance you have in the grand scheme of the plot you’re involved in. Yuu (Rei) might be lucky this time, but the same can’t be said for the future.

...Welp.

Anyway, long story short, this is where Yuu (Rei) fully diverges from the canon MC.

I’m also going to start talking, writing and/or drawing stuff for things I plan for “black or white” in the future from here on out so do look out for those!

[howdoyousleep3]

Bucky and Daddy Steve in quarantine...how do they cope?

Yes amazing incredible brilliant I have been waiting for this question. 

Let’t talk feelings:

Steve is torn. Half of him is like, “thank fuck I can finally be home” and the other half of him is hella anxious about being able to do his job well away from the office

He is always a man with a plan but everything being up in the air and in question does not sit well with Steve. He knows he has to stay calm and has to shoulder the responsibility of having to look after Bucky.

Bucky is freaking out. He cries when his classes get cancelled and when he realizes he has to take it seriously and not see Natasha. He worries about his family back in Indiana but his mom calls him almost every day for the first week because he is in New York fucking City

Bucky knows rough times are ahead and knows that he needs to brace for them and make plans and lists for what to do if things get bad for him mentally 

Work and School: 

Steve and communication!!!! He knows they need to talk about what they both need to stay on top of their work. Steve needs longer periods of time without interruptions and he needs to work in his office to feel focused. Bucky needs some sort of schedule, needs to be told when to take a break, and also needs a space to focus 

Steve makes Bucky a cute little work space in the kitchen at the table because of the windows and light. He sets up a little speaker, and shows Bucky the snacks he bought for him, got a little picture frame with a picture of the two of them within it.

Steve wakes Bucky up around 7 each morning, slow wake-ups, makes sure coffee is ready. They agree to eat lunch together at noon each day, agree that the stopping point for each day is 4 PM.

Working from home is a bitch for Steve. He’s so used to having his people and his resources all in one spot and to not makes things harder. 

School for Bucky is also a bitch. He finds himself not being able to stay on top of his workload at first and the temptation to move to the couch is far too high and almost constant

They’re both far too tempted by the other being within seconds of them

They get the hang of things but there are good days and there are bad days (Hell Zone Days) and they never really know how it’s going to turn out.

How to Stay Busy:

The typical answer-- Netflix. They find some shows to binge and some new movies to watch. Bucky introduces Steve to Parks and Rec and Steve makes a valiant attempt at showing Bucky the Fast and Furious movies. 

Bucky FaceTimes Nat often, mostly to work together, but it’s absolutely necessary that he talk to her and see her face

Steve buys a lot of puzzles and Bucky tries, he really tries, but he hates them, detests them, can’t understand how Steve can keep looking at the same pieces over and over again trying to figure out where they go

Bucky loves playing Animal Crossing, even buys Sims and gets back into that

Steve works out every morning, runs on the treadmill in the basement, lifts some weights, same ‘ol. Sometimes Bucky will take a break and do some yoga, stretching after sitting for so long, which Steve finds so deliciously distracting

They both start to find a love for being in the kitchen. They’ve both always had it but have grown so used to eating out. Steve loves planning and preparing these crazy delicious dinners and Bucky groans about how he’ll need to start working out with Steve in order to maintain his weight 

Bucky prefers to bake, likes the weighing of ingredients and how meticulous it is, likes that focus. It’s Steve’s turn to gripe about how he’s going to have to up his workout in the morning, in length and weight, but Bucky tells him he might be more than okay if Daddy got a little thicker

Relationship: 

There are sweet times, so much extra time for sexy times: lunch break blowjobs, lazy couch sex, rimming in the shower. So much extra time to take things long and slow and it’s seriously the best.

This is quite the test for the two of them. They have never had such a prolonged period of time spent together. It is natural that they butt heads a bit. 

They get into the stupidest fights. Steve would get irritated that Bucky won’t separate lights and darks when he does laundry or leaves coffee cups in the sink. Bucky would get upset at Steve for being so calm and relaxed and for leaving his sweaty towels piled up in the bathroom.

They’d raise their voices, Steve trying to stay as calm as possible, knows that Bucky has been hanging on by a thread. Steve would have no choice but to walk away and Bucky would pout, take an hour, go back to Steve’s office and climb into his lap, whispering his apologies. Steve wouldn’t let him apologize, saying it’s his fault, and they’d go back and forth with kisses and coos.

But there’s one point where Bucky’s anxiety gets so bad even Steve doesn’t know what to do and he resorts to something they’ve never tried before--

Shibari:

Steve’s had this set of navy blue ropes he bought within two weeks of dating Bucky but they’ve never gotten around to properly use them but there isn’t a better time 

Bucky had two panic attacks yesterday, one of them Steve walked in on while the other Bucky came to him, and Bucky hasn’t ever had his anxiety this high while with Steve 

He’s at a loss and hurting, can’t watch Bucky hurt anymore

He doesn’t consult Bucky, makes the decision for the two of them when Bucky is on the cusp of another attack one afternoon. Luckily, Bucky has grown comforted by Steve’s touch when he gets this way, so Steve pulls him close, carries him to their bedroom, lays him out on the bed 

“I’m gonna do something, Buck, somethin’ we’ve never done before. It’s gonna help you and me and make you feel better. What do you say if you want it to stop? S’good, sugar. You trust me? Yeah? I want you to take your clothes off, fold them, and put them on that chair.” 

Bucky barely reacts to the ropes, Steve having to pull his bottom lip out of his mouth before it bleeds. Steve is a little nervous, hasn’t done this in a while, never with Bucky, but it feels different now that so much rests on his own shoulders 

Steve tells Bucky he loves him, makes Bucky say it back even though he doesn’t need to force it, takes his shirt off, and begins 

The motions come back to Steve like he had never taken a break from this in so long, makes him almost miss it...

He’s gentle when he moves Bucky, when he makes his knots, kisses at his soft skin before crossing rope over it. 

Bucky starts to leave him almost immediately, always soft for Daddy’s hands on his body, but there’s never been something that stays behind after Daddy’s hands leave him like this. 

“You goin’ sweet on me already, sugar? A’course, Buck that’s great, s’all okay, baby. I got ya, always got ya...” 

He rolls Bucky onto his front, wraps and ties and knots an intricate pattern to ensure Bucky’s arms are restrained to his sides, curled at the elbow behind his back. When he rolls Bucky back onto his front he gives him a few sweet kisses on a slack mouth, tells Bucky he loves him again 

By the time Steve has connected the ropes around his front, hooking the crease of his hips, his thighs, the rope is cradling Bucky’s cock but not restraining his thighs in any way (not for his first time) 

And Steve is worried he’s going to blow from arousal and adoration 

He can’t remember a time Bucky has looked more beautiful. He looks like an angel almost, navy blue rope on creamy skin on a backdrop of crisp white sheets. 

Bucky’s hard and Steve is almost certain Bucky isn’t aware of it. His eyes are half-open, lips curled up at the corners, cheeks flushed. Steve isn’t sure he’s seen Bucky so gone. 

Steve’s never been so in love

He’s bends and kisses his way up Bucky’s chest, his neck, his lips. “You good, sweetheart?” he whispers in Bucky’s ear and barely feels the tick of a nod, barely hears the breathy slur of an “Uh-huh...” 

And thus Steve picks up another Quarantine hobby

Drawing Bucky while he’s tied up and at his mercy and so fucking beautiful 

He pulls up a chair next to the bed and digs around in the closet for an old sketchpad, finds a pencil, and sits there and sketches Bucky in such a vulnerable position 

He sits there for almost two hours and sketches Bucky, periodically moving him into different positions to ensure he’s still floaty and to draw him in another fashion. He gives him sweet kisses and whispers how pretty Bucky looks and sits back into his chair

He misses sketching, misses Shibari, wonders if Bucky will want to do this in the future. (Answer: he does)

After Steve has moved him into four different positions, has a bit of a hand cramp, he moves back to the bed and joins Bucky naked, crawls over his form, kisses at his chest, his nipples.

He’s been more than half-hard for over two hours now, Bucky having been sporting an angry erection almost the entire time, and when he brings his hand to curl around Bucky’s cock Bucky makes such a soft noise Steve thinks he might tear up

“Want you to come, Buck. Want you come knowing that I love you and that you’re okay and that you’re the strongest and most beautiful human being I’ve ever fucking met--” 

Bucky starts coming before Steve even finishes his first sentence, doesn’t make any noises except for a heavy exhale that almost resembles a whine, the tiniest grin on his lips 

Steve gets a hand on himself as soon as he can, is still whispering to Bucky how much he loves him and adores him and finds him beautiful and how perfect he is and adds to the mess already on Bucky’s stomach, his chest

They talk about this experience for the both of them in the bath later: 

Steve lets Bucky ask questions. Had Steve done this before? Was Bucky’s reaction “normal”? Will it always put him in that headspace? Was it supposed to feel that good? 

Bucky liked it so much it makes him nervous, wonders if it could happen again, worries there might be a chance of him relying on it too much, has never felt more relaxed in his entire goddamn life. 

Steve tries to tell Bucky how it made him felt, how breathtaking it was for Steve, how much he loved seeing Bucky give into him and his pleasure and to watch his worries leave his body.

They agree to explore it in the future, especially after Bucky hears Steve went lighter, used bonds and a pattern that were simple, but they both agree that it shouldn’t become and extremely frequent thing, just when they both are in the correct headspace for it. 

Steve shows Bucky his sketches that evening, Bucky gasping and blushing at seeing himself in such a way, shocked that Steve is so talented. But he’s surprisingly aroused, that sweet space still tingly in his mind, and tucks into Steve’s neck, tells him he loves him. 

“I love you too, sugar...” 

I am so fucking sorry this is like the longest answer I’ve ever given, wowow. I’ve never written them doing this and it totally got away from me! 

[franboos]

I don’t want to be your friend i want to kiss you neck

a vds college roommate fic

written by @gucciboner and me <3

word count: 3282

chapter one, part 1/3 (part 2/3)

They arrived in Antwerp about a half-hour ago. It is the beginning of September. The weather is still okay and since these are the last days of summer everyone is making the best of it by enjoying the sun outside. Lucas is driving a minivan with Isa in the passenger seat. They arrived in the last part of their journey, since they are just a few streets away from their new student residence.

“I already love Antwerp,” Isa says while looking out of the window, “the city looks so full of life.” She smiles and turns to look at Lucas. “Yeah, I’m excited too,” he says smiling back while still focusing on the road. “I hope our roommates are as nice as they told us online.” Isa starts laughing and bumps Lucas’ shoulder. “I’m sure they are nice people, don’t worry about it.”

Just a few minutes later they arrive in the correct street. “okay, now we gotta find the right house,” Lucas says slowing down slightly so he can absorb his surroundings, “It’s house number 264, you’ll look right, I’ll look left.” He slowly keeps driving through the street looking for the house until he hears Isa screaming next to him.

”Stop, it’s here, number 264!”

Lucas stops the van and turns to Isa her side to check out the house. “Well, that looks about right,” he smiles.

“We, surprisingly, survived this 2 hour trip together with you behind the steering wheel, so I think we are gonna be totally fine here in Antwerp,” Isa teases.

“Ah! I’m a perfectly good driver,” Lucas reacts offended but quickly changes his voice to a teasing one, “how dare you offend me like that Isa Keijser!”

“I think, Mr. van der Heijden, as one of your best friends, I’m privileged enough to offend you like that,” she says with a serious but still mocking tone.

“So you're one of my best friends? Weird I didn't know that.” 

“Luc!” Isa says offended.

“I’m just kidding Ies, I’m really happy we are doing this together, since you are one of my best friends.”

She gave Lucas en smile with a hug right after. “Well, what are we waiting for, let’s go and meet our new roomies!” Isa giggles and jumps out of the van.

Once they both stand in front of the door, Isa rings the bell. They wait a few seconds until they hear a voice through the intercom. “Hello?”

“Oh, uh hi, we’re Isa and Lucas. we're here to move in,” Isa says.

“Ah yes! If you wait a sec, I’ll come open the door,” the voice, that probably belongs to a guy, says.

After a moment a figure appears behind the door. They hear the jingling sound of keys, a loud sigh, some more keys rustling together and finally the lock clicking open.

The door swings open to reveal a guy. Lucas swallows, taking in his appearance. He looks about their age, tanned skin and dark brown hair, or maybe it's black? Lucas can't really tell in this lightning. He's wearing a maroon-coloured shirt with grey sweatpants underneath that are just a tad too short. He looks taller than Lucas, altogether he was very handsome.

“Hey guys, come in,” the guy smiles stepping aside. They walk inside and Lucas closes the door behind him.

“I’m Jens, nice to meet you.” He stretches his hand out in front of Isa who takes it.

“Nice to meet you too, I’m Isa.”

Jens smiles and releases his hand from hers and turns to Lucas, sticking out his hand again. Lucas looks at his hand for a second before taking it in his own. He sucks in a breath at the touch.

Suddenly Isa elbows him in his side. He totally forgot to say something. “Oh uh,” his voice comes out shaky, “I’m Lucas.”

“it’s nice to meet you, Lucas,” Jens nods with a smirk on his face.

They drop each others hands. The small silence that followed was quickly replaced by Isa’s voice.

“So, can you give us a little tour?”

“Yes, sorry, of course,” Jens said, shaking his head, “follow me.”

Lucas and Isa follow Jens from the small hallway to the stairs, which leads them to another, but little bigger, hallway with a few doors on the right side, another staircase on the left side and a door on the end of the hall.

Jens point to the doors at the left. “these are few of the bedrooms which you can look at later, because first I’m  showing you the living room.” He keeps walking to the door at the end of the hall, and opens it before stepping aside so Isa en Lucas can enter first.

There are two couches placed on the left side of the room with a small coffee table in the middle, which already as some empty beer cans laying on top of it. On the wall is a TV, and it looks like there is already a PlayStation installed. In the middle of the area, there is a big wooden dining table with place for at least 8 people. And on the right side is a kitchen that is, for the most part, separated from the living area with a white empty wall. Behind the kitchen table are a few large windows and two doors that lead to a balcony. The whole place looks a bit crappy, it is still just a student residence, but Lucas thinks they will be able to make this a nice and homey place. Maybe they can add some plants?

“This is our main living room. As you can see it’s mostly still empty, I just moved in three days ago and I thought it would be more fun to decorate it all together.”

“It looks nice,” Isa says while walking to the middle of the room to take a better look.

“Are any of the others already here?” Lucas asks Jens.

“Ah yes, one guy named Friso. We arrived at the same time, but I think he is in his room right now. He isn’t so talkative, so I don’t know much about him.”

Lucas nods.

“and the last people should also arrive today if I’m correct.”

“That’s awesome,” Lucas says while giving Jens a small smile. “But how does this work, can Isa and I just choose between the leftover rooms?”

“Yeah, the rooms are all kind of similar, so it doesn’t really matter who gets which room. So there are two rooms down this hall, one of which is already in use by Friso, with a small bathroom in between them. Then we have three more rooms on the second floor, but with a bit bigger bathroom. And lastly a room in the attic with a small bathroom.”

Lucas and Isa nod and take in all the information.

“I’m using one of the rooms on the second floor, the one right in front of the staircase, so you can choose between the rest,” Jens says while walking over to one of the couches to sit down.

“Okay, thanks Jens,” Isa said while grabbing Lucas's arm to drag him out of the living room. ”Come, Luc, let’s get ourselves a room.”

After checking out all of the rooms, Isa settles in a room on the second floor, at the end of the hall next to Jens his room, with the bathroom next to hers.

Lucas went for the room on the attic. It has a big window, which he likes because now his room has a lot of light, and there is enough room to leave all his art and his easel.

The rooms already contain a bed, a dresser for some close and a small desk with a chair. Lucas his bed is placed on the left side against the wall, opposite from the window. It is a double bed, which he likes. The desk is also placed on that side and the dresser is next to the window.

Lucas looks at the setting for a while, before deciding to switch the dresser and desk. He places the desk right under the window. this way he has a lot of daylight while working, and he can look outside while doing so, which calms him down.

After giving everything a place he is satisfied with, he hears Isa calling him from under the staircase. “Luc, come, we're gonna get our stuff!”

“coming!” He walks out of his room and hops down the stairs.

“Jens and Friso are gonna help us,” Isa says when Lucas walks up to her.

“Friso?”

“Yeah, that other guy. Do you ever pay attention, Luc?” she rolls her eyes in a playful way. “I just had a little chat with him, he seems nice.” “So come, you got to meet him too and we're gonna get our stuff from the van.”

They walk down the other staircase, through the hall to the front door. Jens and Friso are already waiting at the back of the van. This is the first time Lucas sees Friso. He has black hair, is wearing a simple grey sweater with dark blue jeans and wears a pair of glasses. He kind of reminds Lucas of Shane from buzzfeed unsolved.

When Lucas is in front of him, Friso shakes his hand. “Hey, I’m Friso.”

“Hey, nice to meet you,” Lucas answers.

“Okay, let’s get all this shit to our rooms,” Isa says, while opening the back of the van.

-

When Jens walks into Lucas his room, he sees him sitting on the floor opening one of his clothing boxes. “This is your last box”

Lucas looks up. “Thanks, you can put it next to the others,” he says while pointing to the last unopened boxes standing next to his desk.

Jens walks over to the other boxes and places it next to them. he stands back up and takes a look at the stuff that Lucas already took out. There is a skateboard placed against the wall under some band posters. He takes a better look at the posters. One of them is from the  1975 and the other from the arctic monkeys. He does recognize the names and knows they are indie bands, but he doesn’t really listen to it himself. Next to his desk is an easel with an empty canvas on it. There are a few pictures on his desk, probably with his friends, a few books, an open sketchbook and a lot of paint and some brushes. He wants to take a better look at the sketchbook, so he moves some of the boxes making more room for him the stand.

On the paper is a pencil drawing, a portrait of a woman laughing with wavy hair and eyes that sparkle. The whole drawing has a calm and happy vibe to it.

“that's my mom.” Jens jumps a little from Lucas’s voice, before looking up.

“It’s really pretty. Did you draw this?” Jens asks curious.

“Yeah, I think that's kind of obvious since half of my room contains art-related products,” he laughs, “but thanks,” he says with a genuine smile.

“Do you just do this for fun or do you also study art or something?”

“Well, of course, I do this because I like to do it, otherwise it would be a waste of time. But yes, I’m gonna start studying art, here in Antwerp.”

“That’s so cool! From what I have seen, it looks like you’re really good at it.”

Lucas laughs. “You have literally seen one pencil drawing I did.”

Jens rolls his eyes. “Okay, then show me more, convince me,” he says with a cocky smile.

Lucas stares out the window, staying silent for a second.

“Unless you don’t want to show me more, of course,” Jens says, realising art can be something very personal.

Lucas looks back at Jens. “Maybe another time,” he says before ducking down to grab another box and walking back to his dresser.

Jens stays silent for a second, watching Lucas walk away. The small interaction had left him stunned for some reason. “I’m heading to the supermarket for dinner, any requests?” he asks, walking over to the door.

“Uhm, can we just get pizza. I’m really hungry from the drive so some good pizza would be nice,” Lucas looks over his shoulder.

Jens nods. “That sounds good, see you later.”

“Later,” Lucas answers going back to unpacking.

-

After putting some of his clothes away Lucas decides to check how Isa is doing. He walks into her room and sees that there are still a lot of closed boxes on the floor. It looks like she hasn’t done anything at all.

“Looks like you have made a lot of progress,” He says while scanning the room.

Isa is laying on her bed that is located in the middle of the room with the head against the wall. She is scrolling through her phone while mindlessly eating out of a bag of leftover chips from the trip.

“huh? O yeah, I’m not in a rush,” she says with her eyes still glued on her phone.

Lucas laughs. “I can see that.” He walks up to her bed and drops himself down next to her.

“You excited for your first day of school tomorrow?” Lucas asks. “Gonna be kinda scary, new country, new people.”

“Yeah and new hot people,” Isa says with a cocky smile while finally taking her eyes off her phone and looking at Lucas. “It is time for you to meet a nice Belgian guy. On our way here I already saw some cute guys walking around.”

“Ugh Ies,” he says annoyed but with a smile on his face. “I’m not really looking for anything you know.”

“Okay I know that, but it doesn’t hurt anyone to at least meet some new guys, does it?”

Lucas rolls his eyes. “I know, I know. I will meet some people, for you,” he says while getting off the bed.

“No, no Luc. You gotta do it for yourself!”

“Yeah Ies, whatever. Get off your lazy ass and start unpacking these boxes” He gives her a big smile and walks out of the room.

-

They are all sitting on the couches in the living room, eating their cheap pizza while watching some random program on the tv when the doorbell rings.

“who's that?” Isa asks with her mouth full of pizza.

“Probably one of the new housemates,” Jens shurgs.

When nobody gets up to open the door friso says “somebody needs to get up,” but everybody stays put.

“Alright, I’ll go,” Friso sighs moving off the couch.

Just a few minutes later, Friso comes back with two new people behind him. Jens sits up straighter so he can see who the new people are.

One of them is a girl. She has blond wavy hair, her skin is kind of tanned and she is wearing light blue denim skinny jeans on her long legs with a black tank top and white Nike air forces. She looks kind of sweet but arrogant at the same time. Next to her walks a guy. He has messy dark blond hair, he is wearing a white oversized band shirt with dark blue pants and a pair of white dr. martens underneath. He has a big grin on his face while scanning the area he is standing in. He looks like a chill guy.

Before Jens observe them more, Friso starts talking.

“Guys, this is Annabell and Ely, our last roommates.”

They all put down their pizza and stand up from the couch to properly meet.

“Do you guys already know each other, since you came together?” Jens asks after they introduced themselves.  

“O no, we just arrived at the same time,” Ely answers.

“Ah, okay cool,” Jens says. “Well you guys can fight over the last two available rooms. One of them right down the hall and one upstairs on the second floor.”

Ely turns to Annabell. “Oh, I don’t really care, you can choose. I’m going for a smoke,” he says while turning around to walk to the balcony.

“Is it okay if i come with you?” Jens asks.

Ely looks back. “Yeah, sure.”

Jens walks over to the coffee table where he has an already rolled joint ready. He grabs it, and walks to the balcony where Ely is already lighting his joint. He leans back against the railing and looks at the view. It is around 8:30  in the evening. The sun is slowly setting, giving Antwerp a orange glow.

“You need the lighter?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Jens says while taking the lighter from Ely.

He puts the joint in his mouth and covers it with his right hand from the wind while lighting it with his left hand. When it is lit, he lowers his left hand and takes the joint in his other and inhales slow but deep.

“What do you study?” Jens asks after exhaling the smoke.

“Music production, gonna start my second year tomorrow. You?”

“That’s so cool! I’m gonna study communication and multimedia design, it’s a lot about programming and visual design and stuff. This is my first year so I’m pretty excited.”

“I’ve heard of that, sounds cool,” Ely answers. “What do you do in your spare time?”

“I like to skate with my friends.”

“Really? I also skate, we should go to the park together sometime,” he says while taking another drag.

“Yeah sounds cool,” Jens says with a smile. It’s gonna be fun living here with these people he thinks.  

-

“Does anyone else want anything?” Annabell shouts from where she’s standing in the kitchen

They’ve been spending the rest of the night hanging out in the living room, getting to know each other. Except for Friso, he wanted to go to bed early and get a goodnight rest before his first day.

“No thanks, we’re all good” Lucas yells back at her.

When she returns from the kitchen holding a can of coke, she walks over to the couch that Jens is sitting on. She plops down right next to him. Leaving almost no space in between their bodies. Jens rubs his hands over his legs and gives her an awkward smile.

“Have you lived in Antwerp your whole life?” She asks him, turning her upper body into his direction.

“Yeah I have.” he slides his body away from her, completely leaning against the armrest of the couch.

She pushes the tab of her coke can down before taking a slow sip, looking into Jens’ eyes the whole time.

Across from them, on the other couch, Isa is trying not to laugh at how uncomfortable Jens looks.

"wow me too, weird I haven't seen you before," Annabell says, making Isa and Ely snort at the same time.

Annabell tries to give them an innocent look. “What?” She says, batting her eyelashes.

Lucas rolls his eyes at her, he already doesn’t like her. Right when Annabell is about to say something else to Jens, Lucas cuts her off. “I heard there was a chill skatepark around here somewhere, is that right?”

“Yeah, there is.” Jens looks relieved and sends him a small smile. “You skate too right? I saw your board in your room.”  

“Yeah, I do.”

Annabell slumps down against the couch and crosses her arms with a big pout on her lips making Isa laugh again.

“Jens and I were talking about skating together, you should join us,” Ely suggests.

“Yeah, you should” Jens grins directly at Lucas.

Lucas smiles weakly and nods, “Yeah cool.”  

He was kind of hoping to skate alone with Jens, but there’s plenty of time for that in the future.

[theitalianwitch]

Blog #1

27 May 2021

Buongiorno streghe ❤❤

It is the day after the full moon and it was the first time in a long time that I participated in any sort of witchcraft. I know, tut tut bad on me. I am not sure why I have not done witchcraft (aside from the occasional Bastet offering) in so long. I guess I have just been preoccupied by other things and projects.

I wished to make this blog to document my own activities, share spells, and just have something nice to do. I wish to share my practices with all. That said, please remember that we all practice in different ways and ways that are most comfortable to each individual. Some may disagree with my information, and for others my information may not suit them well. That is okay! We are all special and different in our own ways, and witchcraft is a very personal practice!

Before I discuss what I did during last night's full moon, I wish to introduce myself some because this is my first post. On this blog, I wish to remain completely anonymous because not many people in my real life know my practices and I wish to keep it that way. I wish to work under the pseudonym Fiona Brandybuck. The name Fiona was the name of a special childhood pet and Brandybuck just because I like Lord of the Rings! My mother was a witch before me, but she rarely practices anymore. When she does, it is a shrine to deceased loved ones when the veil is thin.

Because I know many will ask, I am an Aries sun, Capricorn moon, and Gemini rising. I am in my mid-20s but prefer not to share my specific age. I enjoy worshipping the sun more than the moon. While I do the occasional new moon and full moon rituals, I just like the sun better. The sun makes me feel happier and more energetic, so I will often charge objects in the sun and sometimes make sun water. My mother is all about the moon! But I like sun. I do not know what people online define my magic as, but I enjoy doing a lot of protection, manifestation, healing, self love, blessing. I do not like to do love for other people, or love spells to attract, because I do not like the manipulation involved. Only self-love! Because that is more pure and assured and positive. I do not know if this makes sense to others. Some mediums I work with are tarot, pendulum, and crystal ball. But I would like very much to work with oomancy or yolks.

OK! To my full moon ritual last night! ✨

Last night was my first time doing witchcraft since the winter months. I started by smoke cleansing my home with white sage incense and went inside each room three times saying my own protection incantation. Oh, and another important thing is MAKE SURE YOUR WORK AREA IS CLEAN. I always polish and dust and sweep before doing any spell. As soon as the sun set, I go to work!

I did many things last night. First I smoke cleansed the jars I was to use. A gallon glass milk jug for my moon water, a half gallon jug as a gift for a friend, and a small bottle for a personal spell. I always take an incense stick inside of these until it gets nice and smokey, then quickly seal the jar to trap the smoke inside and set it aside.

Next I made a good luck charm from a poker chip I found outside. It was just laying in the grass a few weeks ago and I have the instinct to take it with me and make a charm of it. I smoke cleansed the poker chip then meditated with it between my palms, setting my intentions and thinking of the colors green and gold. For a personal touch, I dripped some green wax onto it. After it was charged under the full moon last night, it is now in my wallet!

I then decided to make a creativity spell! I have been painting a little more lately and wish to continue, so I made my wishes known. Some ingredients I used for this spell were untraditional. I used real art supplies for some of it! Here is what I put in my little jar spell:

Black salt

Myrrh ash from my altar

Green paint

Yellow pencil shavings

Pale blue pastel dust

Thyme

Kitchen sage

Rosemary

Lavender (a lot of it!)

Amethyst

Green Aventurine

I then sealed the bottle with orange wax because that is what I associate creativity with. I finished with a kiss. I do not know if anyone else does this, but I always finish my spells with a kiss! I kiss my letters, I kiss my jars, I kiss my charms, I kiss my jars of moon and sun water. I kiss it all to seal and protect it! I love kisses!

Because the full moon is about acknowledging what you have done and how far you have come, I wrote a letter to Bastet. I wrote about what I am thankful for and what I pray for. But the details are between me and Bastet only! I gave her this letter along with an offering of red wine.

I decide not to do anything with my crystal ball. I do not know why, I did not feel like it. So I opened the jars for moon water, filled them, and put them on my window with other objects that I charged.

I did a tarot reading for myself, which I will share here!

Here, you get a small peak of my home, ahah. You can tell I like scary things and Halloween! You also can see the poker chip I enchanted.

My reading was what I will be for the next month physically, mentally, and spiritually. I select cards by whatever falls out, which it why there are two mental cards as they fell out together.

Physically: The Lovers upright

Do I need to explain anything here? Passion! Love! Harmony! Honor! Confidence! Physically, I interpret this card meaning that I will love, honor, and cherish my body. I can see this also meaning that more intimate passion may be entering my life, either loving myself or loving my partner. This is always good!

Mentally: The Knight of Cups upright and The Hermit reversed

I received two cards for my mentality over the next month! Both I think apply to me very well and are things for me to cautious of. The Knight tells me to keep in check with my emotions and if I am overreacting or thinking logically. It could also mean that I need to express myself more, but I do not think this applies to me! I find it easy to express all my emotions. I believe this card is telling me to think before I react.

The reversed Hermit is warning me that I am withdrawing from society too much. I see this in myself, and it is hard not to because of this cursed pandemic! But I see what it means because there are other ways to communicate and keep in touch. Perhaps I am isolating myself too much. This can also relate to the Knight where I could be acting rash or hasty in my judgement.

Spiritually: The Hanged Man reversed

Off, ora sono imbarazzato!!! This I think is referring to my negligence in the practice and worship. It is telling me about useless sacrifice and insincere effort. This is a card I hope to force conscious change upon. It, too, is telling me of hasty decisions and an avoidance to deal with my real issues at hand. I hear you!

Something tells me my spirit guides know about my frivolous money spending! 👀 Ahahaha!

I ended the evening by burning three cones of incense with the window open. I burned frankincense for Bastet, some blend called Luna for the moon, and vanilla for myself! I ordered the smoke of these incense to carry out evil and negativity with it out the window! What then? I relaxed and watched a movie as I went to bed.

I did not mention my sigil work! Although it has been on my hand while I type! This post is already so long, this subject is for another time.

I hope those that read my post enjoyed it! Thank you for giving me your time!

Essere benedetto 💖✨🔮

Fiona Brandybuck🐑🔮

[yourdeepestfathoms]

The Crucible (part nine)

[UK Tour; Carrie AU]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7  Part 8

Word count: 10,088

TW: Blood and gore

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

-Alma Mater-

  “We found these in the dumpster behind what’s left of the gym.”

Bessie recoiled so sharply in disgust she nearly fell backwards out of her chair when Mulaney dumped several pieces of paper onto the table in front of her. She looked at the pile as if it were made of actual human hearts, wrinkling up her nose.

  “I can’t believe you touched those!” She exclaimed in an almost humorously repulsed way. “They’re probably swimming with diseases.” 

  “Recognize them?” Mulaney asked, sitting across from her.

  “They’re prom ballots,” Bessie said with a dismissive shrug. “I’m the one who Xeroxed them.”

  “According to these, Ruby and Leila won prom king and queen.”

Bessie blinked at Mulaney in shock, as if he had just told her the secrets of the universe. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish caught on a hook, then she sputtered out, “I-I counted those ballots myself. Principal Holbein checked my work! You can ask him...yourself…” She trailed off with a grimace, hunching her shoulders in and looking away. For a moment, she looked a lot younger, and a lot more shaken than she thought she was.

  “Anna and Joan won fair and square.” She finally spoke up again, although there was a not-so-subtle shakiness to her voice. Madeline gave her a sympathetic look.

  “I’m guessing by a landslide?” Mulaney asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “That doesn’t seem odd to you?”

  “I just thought they were pity votes.” Bessie said, shrugging.

  “They weren’t pity votes, Elizabeth.” Mulaney told her grimly. “Someone switched the ballots.”

------

  “Attention! Attention, everyone!” Bessie called jovially from the stage. The mic she was using gave a few abrupt screeches of feedback, so she tapped it with a manicured finger. In the fairy lights, her dress glistened in shimmering waves of purple and made her look like a walking amethyst. “Can I have your attention, please!”

The DJ cut the music off hastily. Everyone inside the gym quieted down one by one and turned their heads to the stage. Bessie’s hair was blindingly white in the light.

  “Thank you,” She said, then raised her voice excitedly, “We will now be voting for this year’s prom king and queen!”

  “This contest insults women!” Margery Horsman shouted from near the globe tree. There were a few scattered applause and one loud, whooping cheer from a girl who must have been her friend.

  “It insults men, too!” Francis Dereham piped up mockingly. Laughter followed, along with several eye rolls.

  “Take your seats, please!” Bessie went on loudly. “Time to vote!”

Everyone began to swarm back to their respective table as Maggie and two other girls started to pass out prom ballots and small pencils. Anna, Joan, George, and Jane were already sitting, recovering from their intense dance session and playing Spoons with a deck of cards George had brought in (“I still cannot believe you brought cards to prom.” “I never leave home without ‘em! You know that, Anna!”). As far as games being played at a school party went, it definitely wasn’t the lamest option they could have gone with.

  “Aha!” Jane exclaimed, seizing one of the three plastic spoons on the table after she got a match of four aces. George looked up at her lovingly. “I have totally figured out this game! I am the new Spoons champion!”

  “Ow!!” Anna yelped. “You SCRATCHED me!” She had been trying to grab one of the other spoons when Jane’s fingernails raked viciously over her hand. She rubbed the scraped skin tenderly, giving Jane a playful pout.

  “This is a very violent game,” Joan observed. When someone got a match of four cards, they were supposed to grab a spoon as quick as they could, prompting everyone else to do the same, which resulted in some mayhem. Especially because there were four players and only three spoons, so clawing and yanking and merciless tug-of-war would sometimes happen as a result. There was even a moment where they all lurched forward at the same time and bonked their heads together.

  “What can I say?” Jane said with a shrug, flicking her spoon back and forth. “I play to win.”

At that moment, Maggie came around with ballots, setting four papers and four pencils on the table for them. Before she whisked away, she declared a louder-than-necessary, “GOOD LUCK!” into Joan’s ear. Joan rubbed her ear uncomfortably as Anna and Jane both glowered after Maggie, then examined the ballot in front of her. Her mouth dropped open.

  “Anna,” She whispered shakily, grabbing onto Anna’s arm tightly. “W-we’re on here!”

  “I saw that,” Anna said.

  “Woah! Congrats!” George beamed.

  “Can we decline?” Joan asked anxiously.

  “Hell no!” Anna said, laughing slightly. “If you win, all you do is sit up there on those thrones for the school song, wave some scepter around, and look like a jackass.” 

  “Oh, and then you get your picture taken for the yearbook so everyone could see that you looked like a jackass.” George added. He, Jane, and Anna laugh lightly. “You also get to lead a dance! So that’s pretty cool.”

  “Well...who do we vote for?” Joan asked Anna. “They’re more your crowd than mine. I don’t really have a crowd.”

  “Ourselves, duh!” Anna said.

  “Isn’t voting for yourself like voting for Ralph Nader?” George asked.

  “Who’s Ralph Nader?”

  “Well, I’m voting for you.” Jane said to Joan. She smiled and checked off Joan and Anna’s names.

  “Thanks,” Joan whispered, ducking her head shyly. She glanced over at the thrones on the stage and couldn’t help but be enamored by them. They were so sparkly and pretty. “They are beautiful…”

  “You’re beautiful.” Anna grinned, taking Joan by surprise. She would never get over the shock of hearing someone say that to her. “To the devil with false modesty.”

Joan smiled. “To the devil,” She said, and checked off her and Anna’s names.

------

  “Look at how she’s smiling. Stupid little cow.”

Cathy peered over the shrouded edge of the catwalk they were hiding on. She could see Joan Seymour, the poor bitch this prank was on, playing cards at one of the tables with Anne’s younger brother, his girlfriend, and Anna von Cleves. Her dress was beautiful, Cathy had to admit, and she looked so happy.

It was such a shame it was all about to be ruined.

The buckets were poised and ready.

  “God, and my stupid brother.” Anne rolled her eyes. “I should have known he would befriend the resident freak.” She shook her head and turned to Cathy, smiling again. “Are you ready? It’s almost time.”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” Cathy mumbled, feeling ill.

  “Oh, cheer up.” Anne nudged her. “We’re just playing a little joke! Nobody is getting hurt!”

  “Anne, this is--this is sick. Really, really sick.” Cathy said. “If we get caught--”

  “We aren’t going to get caught.” Anne said firmly. “Calm down, will you? It’s not that bad. We’re just gonna give her a little scare, that’s all.”

Cathy shook her head and cast a dark look at the two metal buckets. She could still smell the contents from her spot, the scent of three-day-old pig blood and guts wafting heavily in the air. It was a miracle nobody else on the stage had smelled it yet.

  “Do you really think they’ll vote for them?” She finally spoke up again, glancing at her girlfriend. In the dim light, only half of Anne’s face could be seen, and there was madness reaching out of that amber eye.

  “Of course,” Anne answered her. “I set it up. Nobody else will even be close.” She smiled wickedly. “Do you want to pull the rope?”

------

Katherine was restless. It was starting to worry her sister, she knew. She kept getting up in the middle of the movie they were watching and would pace around the living room like a lion in a circus cage. She couldn’t help it- something felt off.

  “Kit?” Isabel called. “Is everything alright?”

  “Yeah,” Katherine replied, shaking out her wrists as if they were crawling with caterpillars. “Just a little anxious, that’s all.”

Isabel paused the movie and turned to her completely. “About the prom?” She asked.

  “What else?” Katherine sighed. “I texted Anna and she said everything was going fine, but still… I’m worried about Joan. I hope she’s having a good time.”

  “I’m sure she is,” Isabel said. “You’re letting your Mum Friend status get to you too much.”

Katherine managed to laugh. “Maybe.” 

She took out her phone and checked it for what felt like the tenth time that evening. Just like last time, there were no new messages. Just her reply from Anna after she reacted to the picture that was sent, which was marked as “read.” Anna must have been too busy having a good time to text back, which was good. She was giving Joan her full attention. But what if she wasn’t answering for a different reason…?

  “Ugh--” Katherine collapsed down on the couch next to Isabel, who looked quite amused. “Anxiety SUCKS ASS.”

  “Preach it, sister.” Isabel laughed. She patter her shoulder with a tender smile. “It’s going to be okay, Kat. I’m sure everything is just fine.”

But she was wrong.

------

  “You really make all your own clothes?” George was asking with great interest. After Maggie had come around again and picked up the marked prom ballots, the group decided to take a small break from Spoons to let their maimed hands rest and stop burning. Now, they were just chatting idly, talking about random things as they waited for the score to be tallied up.

  “Yeah, most of them,” Joan answered, nodding.

  “That’s so convenient.”

Joan smiled shyly. “Yeah. Sorry I’m not better at conversations. I don’t have a lot of interesting stories.”

  “No worries!” George said dismissively. “You’re much better company than most of the people here. Some of them don’t know how to keep a secret.” Then, he turned his head and shot an irritated look at a boy in a dark navy blue suit at a navy table. “And SOME OF THEM think very HIGHLY of themselves.”

The boy in navy blue whipped his gaze around and narrowed his eyes at George.

  “I can HEAR you!” He shouted.

  “We all can!” Piped up someone else.

  “I KNOW.” George shouted back. “We’re in a GYM! But I’m having a PRIVATE CONVERSATION, so stick your nose somewhere else!”

  “Then why did you look at me?!” The boy in navy blue cried.

  “Because I was MAKING a POINT to my FRIENDS!” George snapped.

  “You WISH you had friends!”

  “Go suck a LIME!”

  “Now, now,” A teacher chaperone said in a bored voice. “Settle down.”

George turned his head back to the table and smiled. “Anyway,” He said, his voice all sweetness again, “Where were we?”

The other three burst into laughter.

And then, silence was called over the gym. 

  “Attention, everyone!” Bessie said into the mic. “It’s time to announce the elected prom king and queen!”

There was a drumroll as Bessie excitedly pulled out a slip of paper from an envelope. Everyone held their breath in anticipation.

  “ANNA VON CLEVES AND JOAN SEYMOUR!!!”

Anna, who had been mindlessly taking a sip from her cup, not thinking much of the election, spit her drink out in George’s face. Joan froze, her eyes opening wider than possible. All heads turned to her table. Gasps and murmurs whisked through the crowd. The gym went very quiet.

And then, there was a huge, booming, explosive eruption of applause that seemed to shake the walls like thunder. Everyone began to clap and cheer loudly, roaring into one big celebratory mass of noise. One person even yelled, “Yeah, go Anna! Go, Joan!”

Two student body members dressed in (school appropriate) togas, a boy and a girl, walked over to the table, smiling. Anna laughed and stood up with her arms spread in a queenly gesture of sorts, and the crowd went wild, shrieking their support. George, who quickly recovered from being sprayed with mouth soda, was beaming in pride for his friend and Jane looked both a little stunned and absolutely thrilled. Anna nudged Joan’s side and then extended her elbow for them to lock arms, but Joan did not get up. She was far too starstruck to stand at the moment, lost in the whirling of the radiant, overwhelming glee rocketing through her. She had never been clapped for before like this, nor had she ever been so joyful in her entire life.

Prom Queen. Her. Joan Seymour. She was Prom Queen. A queen. Royalty. Important. Her.

It was a dream come true.

Anna gently grabbed Joan by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet, effectively snapping Joan out of her daze. She still remained breathless and dazzled, however, as the entire prom screeched for her when she finally got to her feet. She nearly fainted from joy right then and there, but managed to cling to her consciousness. She grappled onto Anna’s arm, a smile coming to her lips that she knew would not be leaving for a while.

The two of them, escorted by the toga-clad student body duo, began to stride through the crowd, which parted like the Red Sea when they passed. The band boomed and swelled into a loud, upbeat melody. The audience continued to applaud and scream and cheer. Any sarcasm was lost to its cacophony; this was honest and deep and genuinely happy for the elected pair. Someone whistled. Someone else patted Joan’s bare shoulder as she passed by. Miss Aragon, at the edge of the trench of students, looked so proud.

Tears were welling up in Joan’s eyes. Her mouth was starting to hurt from smiling so widely. Has she ever smiled for this long before? She doesn’t think so. She hoped she wasn’t hurting Anna, she was hanging onto her arm really tightly. Anna didn’t seem to mind, though. The older girl was practically glowing in the fairy lights, like a goddess of sorts.

They reached the short flight of stairs to the stage, where Bessie and Principal Holbein were waiting. The thrones were pushed up to the front arches of the decorative Parthenon, glistening in the spotlights poised on the apron. They were inlaid with gold and fake jewels and were so much more breathtaking up close.

  “Come on up, you guys!” Bessie shouted over all the noise. She beamed at Joan as Anna helped her up the steps, then turned to shake hands with Principal Holbein. “You look so beautiful! Congratulations!”

Joan couldn’t possibly must up a reply with all these endorphins sprinting through her, so she just smiled even wider, if that were even possible at that point.

She and Anna were whisked over to the thrones (but not without Bessie launching herself into Anna and hugging her very tightly). A silver scepter was thrust into Anna’s hands by the boy student body member in the toga, while the girl swept a furry velvet and sunflower yellow cloak with a puffy collar around Joan’s shoulders. They sat in the thrones and another ear-splitting bout of applause broke out.

Joan was glad to be sitting. Her legs were shaking and her knees felt weak. She was dizzy from shock and bliss and excitement.

(look at me Mama look at me)

(i made it)

(i did it)

The crowns were taken out on big wine red pillows. Both were encrusted with surprisingly realistic looking diamonds and glittered like captured rainbows in the light. Joan nearly sobbed when her tiara was set on her head and she reached up to touch it instantly, just to make sure it was there and real. And it was. The jewels were smooth and bumpy beneath her fingers. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Anna grinning at her affectionately.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Bessie said energetically into the mic, “your king and queen on senior prom! Anna von CLEVES and Joan SEYMOUR!”

The audience howled. Anna laughed. She stood up and thrust her scepter into the air.

  “Long live King Anna!!!” Someone yelled.

  “SPEECH!!!” Someone else, George from back at the table, cried out.

Anna grinned brightly in his direction.

The band cracked and rose into a fever pitch as the school song was played. The audience began to sing along to the music, their hundreds of mixing voices spiraling into a cloud of haunting sound. Anna basked in it, her chest puffed out with pride, then turned and gently gathered Joan to her feet so she could bathe in the glory with her. Joan probably would have crumpled right to the floor if Anna hadn't helped her up.

It was such a dizzying feeling, being the center of so much positive attention when it was usually all so negative. All these people were cheering for her, Joan Seymour. And they didn’t look to be doing it mockingly at all. They liked her. They really, really liked her!

(i told you Mama i told you)

  “Long live Queen Joan!!” Shouted the person from before. 

  “Queen Joan!!!” Someone else whooped gleefully.

Joan was shaking all over. She knew everyone could see that she was, but it wasn’t deterring their applause. They just kept clapping and cheering and singing, even as she quivered like a leaf in a hurricane.

But unbeknownst to her, among the crowd, Maggie Wyatt and Anthony Lee were smirking rather than smiling. Maggie kept glancing up every few seconds, which caught the attention of Jane, who began to sidle over slowly to see what she was looking at.

Bessie waved her arms and all the noise began to diminish. She turned to Anna and Joan, still grinning her head off.

  “Your Highnesses,” She said, “your court requests you lead them in a dance!”

Like that, the cheering started up again.

The toga boy took Anna’s staff from her, but Joan’s cloak was left on. Anna extended a hand and Joan took it as the lights around them faded to soft blue and light purple. They walked slowly down the steps and onto the center of the gym floor, where they pressed against each other and began to dance in long, graceful movements. The band played an airy melody of violins and flutes, which Joan didn’t even realize they had, but she could hardly care. She was too wrapped up in dancing with Anna to care about anything at this point.

Her legs trembled, unsteady, unpracticed, fawn-like. Her head spins and her vision blurs with the opposite of vertigo. Her hands clasp tightly at Anna’s and her shoulder, like the older girl was an island out in a raging black ocean. Moats of silver dust float like moths in the rays of light beaming from the spotlight, and she had never been more awash in radiance. 

Anna’s hand is warm on her waist and she looked up at her, dry lips parting with a slight pop. Anna tilted her head at her and smiled, the corners of her mouth held aloft by the spotlights. Her fingertips trail over Joan’s veins, bluer than hers, rivers snaking beneath her skin and crisscrossing the imperfect planet of her body. 

But Anna doesn’t care.

Each sweeping step they take gave Joan more confidence and made the world come a little more into focus. This was all Joan has ever wanted- being held so gently, being loved despite her flaws, being wanted and needed and swayed like she is. Anna doesn’t care that she’s touching her, Anna doesn’t care about the roughness of her scarred palms, Anna doesn’t care that she wasn’t at prom with her girlfriend.

Anna cared about her and her alone. Nothing else in the entire universe mattered to her. And that was a dream come true.

Anna coaxed her closer in that honeyed voice of hers that makes Joan feel all fluttery inside, whispered that she wanted to show off to all these loons, and Joan does as she's told, tentatively placing one foot in front of the other, searching for stable ground as they whisked in loops inside the circle of students crowded around them. 

  “Anna?” Joan whispered.

  “Yeah?” Anna looked down at her, still smiling with so much affection for her.

  “Thank you.”

  “Anything for you, Joan.”

Joan was still shaky but that’s okay. If she fell, Anna would surely catch her.

There was a blooming warmth on Joan’s hand and she looked at it, and that’s when everything fell to pieces. Shafts of burgeoning gold cut through soft silver and burst outwards, filling the gym in blinding yellow waves. Violin and flutes were replaced with a marching drumbeat. Silence turned to an uproar of cheering and clapping. The dance floor melted away and the stage rose up beneath Joan’s feet. And there was Bessie and the band and the two student body members in togas and Anna, now up there with her again. And there was blood. On her hand.

  “Your Highnesses,” Bessie said, “your court requests you lead them in a dance!”

Joan does not hear her. She can’t even move. 

Red. Blood. On her fingers. Blood.

Her blood?

Was it happening again?

Anna looked at her in confusion, eyebrows furrowed together. 

  “Joan?” She whispered. “Everything okay?”

Joan does not reply.

Like how Anna does not see the blood.

It was the size of a nickel American tourists would sometimes accidentally drop on the streets. Bright red against her pale white skin, like a ruby buried in fresh snow. Completely odorless in such a small quantity.

Blood.

Where did it come from?

Joan looked up shakily and time seemed to slow down so she, and everyone else in the gym, could watch as two buckets full of blood poured out in an unhurried manner to fall, splash, splash, splash, right over Joan’s head.

------

  “Hail, Alma Mater,”

The singing of the crowd mixed with the band and all the cheering was a mess of noise in Anne’s ears. She grit her teeth in rage and glared down at the thrones, where the pig herself, Joan Seymour, was being crowned Prom Queen. With her tiara.

  “Why are they still clapping?” Anne hissed.

  “I don’t know, babe.” Cathy said uselessly. “Don’t ask me.”

Anne growled lowly in her throat and gripped the rope in her hands tightly. The smell of the blood wafting from the buckets was intoxicating.

  “Oh, Mother, we salute you,”

  “Are you going to pull it?” Cathy asked. “They’re there. The song is playing. Get it over with already.”

  “Shut the fuck up.” Anne snapped.

  “We proclaim out devotion,”

Anne’s hands were starting to shake. Her chest burned as she held her breath. 

  “I’m not pulling it for you.” Cathy said. “That thing can sit up there ‘till hell freezes over.”

Anne elbowed her hard in the stomach and her girlfriend reeled backwards in pain.

  “As we set our dreams into motion!”

  “Your Highnesses,” Bessie said from below after the school anthem ended, “your court requests you lead them in a dance!”

Anne leaned forward and yanked the cord with both hands.

For a moment, there was slack, making her think Cathy fucked up the set up to get back at her, that the rope was attached to nothing but thin air, that Joan fucking Seymour was actually going to get away clean.

But then, it snagged and jerked away from her grasp, leaving a thin rope burn across her palms. The buckets tipped and glorious red fell free. She peeked over the edge to watch, then turned to Cathy, smirking widely in victory.

In the darkness, Cathy looked horrified.

And in the light of the stage, someone screamed.

------

Two weeks after the Black Prom, Elizabeth “Bessie” Blount, would write this for the detectives,

          “I had been looking at the crowd when the buckets came, but I turned fast enough to see a majority of it. It got EVERYWHERE. Joan got the most of it. She looked like she had just been dragged out of a river of blood. There were barely any spots of pink left on her dress. But us onstage got some of it, too. Anna was wearing a white tux. She got splattered. She looked like she was in a murder scene. I got splattered, too. My dress and my chest and my face. And for a moment, when my mind flashed back to the showers on Friday, I wondered if this was period blood. It was clearly a prank of sorts, so did whoever planned this (which I now know was Anne), get a bunch of girls to squat over some buckets and bleed into them just to dump it out on this one chick?

          But then I realized that it didn’t smell like period blood. 

          I don’t think any of you or anyone else who wasn’t there really understand the smell. It wasn’t just an awful sight--it smelled, too. Like--like...it’s so hard to explain. It smelled like blood, but blood that has been left out in the sun for a week. Like rotten meat. Have you ever smelled rotten meat? It was like that.

          And it also wasn’t just blood. There were organs and pieces of organs, too. I don’t even know what it was, but there was a strip of /something/ on my face. But Joan was covered in guts. Intestines hanging from her shoulders, mushy livers and kidneys caught against her dress, a stomach snagged on her crown. There were even testicles. One missed her, but the other hit her in her head and then bounced off.

          Joan was still for a very long time. She had been looking up, so her face was dripping and her eyes were closed. Then, she opened them and things all went to hell from there.

          I look back on this a lot. I know it wasn’t that long ago, but it’s always so fresh in my mind. I got my period two days ago and I /cried/ when I saw the blood. Because I wonder, if I had been a little bit nicer, would it have never happened? I know that’s wishful thinking, but I still wonder about it all the time. I do that a lot, now. I just think about what happened. And it gets worse each time.

          I wish about a lot, but I never wish to stop the Black Prom. I just wish I had died in there with everyone else. I could kill myself, but it wouldn’t be the same, you know? I was left alive for a reason, I think. It’s a punishment. Unless Joan thought I was innocent enough to let go. But I don’t think so. So now I have to live with what I did and what happened because of it. 

          I would like to see Anna again, though. I wish I got to say goodbye to her.”

------

She was covered in it.

Blood.

Whose blood?

(my blood)

The smell was overwhelming. Like rotten meat left out in the summer heat for several months. The taste was worse. She didn’t want to describe it. This blood did not have the same metallic tang of normal blood. There was something very, very wrong with it.

The blood was thick, half a liquid, half a solid. It was coagulated and clotted, thick chunks caught in her hair and eyelashes and dress. It drooled down her chest, between her breasts, and over the flat expanse of her stomach. 

Everywhere. It was everywhere.

In her ears and her nose and her eyes and her mouth. 

Blood.

Something else splattered down against her, too. It made a loud slapping sound when it hit her head and made her tiara crooked when it snagged on the points. Something long and squishy draped over her shoulder while something else went down the back of her dress and fell out the bottom with a wet /plop/. They all had a very rank, ripe scent.

Joan’s eyes were closed. She had been looking up, so her face was completely drenched. Her dress was ruined, dyed to a deep scarlet instead of a pale flamingo pink. Her hair was soaked and dripping and red, retaining no hints of the original platinum white-blonde. The cloak around her neck looked like a freshly gutted dog, and it fell heavily to the ground at her feet. Rivulets of red ran down her arms, oozing off her fingers and into the crimson lake all around her.

One by one, the clapping stopped, the cheering died off, and the smiles fell until the only sound was the creak of the two ropes the buckets were attached to and the splattering of blood on the floor. Nobody moved, nobody breathed, nobody spoke a word.

And then, Joan’s eyes opened.

Something was glowing behind those twin orbs of grey-blue.

Joan slowly raised her hands and stared at them, watching tiny rivers of blood snake down the palms. Her breathing picked up slowly, faster and faster and faster, until her body was heaving with the weight of her panting. Her eyes darted around- at Anna, spattered in red beside her; at Bessie, wide-eyed and bloody; at George and Jane, horrified; at Miss Aragon, with her mouth hanging open; at Principal Holbein, shocked into stillness; at the audience, silent. She looked down and saw the blood, then the guts.

She was covered in guts.

Intestines hung from her shoulders, several pieces of pruney and wrinkled pink tissue clung to her dress, a stomach was caught on her crown.

Guts.

Someone spilled guts on her.

Blood and guts.

Something itched in Joan’s throat, and when she opened her mouth, a whimper came out.

And then a cry.

And then a scream.

She screamed a horrible, nightmare-haunting scream that reverberated throughout the auditorium and jammed itself into the ears of the audience. It cut off after a moment and she stared at her hands again in horror, hoping they would be clean, but the red still remained. She tried to scrub at her arms, but the blood only smeared and coated her skin even further. She whimpered and keened loudly, scratching and clawing desperately. Someone in the audience snorted.

  “WHAT THE HELL?” Anna roared in fury. She was the first to snap out of the terror-stricken trance, and now all she felt was outrage. “WHO DID THIS?”

No answer. Someone snorted again. A few people murmured. Heads whipped around frantically.

  “WHO DID THIS?!” Anna screeched again. She looked around and spotted something in the wings- Anne and Cathy. She snarled lowly, like a dog about to bite, then took off after them when they fled.

Like that, with Anna’s jarring sprint into motion, the trance that had descended over the gym was broken. People began to exclaim in shock and whisper to one another. A few took out their phones to take pictures. Maggie Wyatt and Anthony Lee snorted and then burst into howls of laughter.

And people joined in.

They were laughing at her.

(Mama was right)

Joan felt her body start to seize. She went hot and then cold and then hot again until she was freezing. Her heartbeat hammered in her chest, racing faster and faster and faster until she thought it would burst apart. 

  “Pig, pig, pig, pig!” Anthony bellowed through bouts of laughter. “Sweet pig, pig, pig!”

(Mama was right they’re laughing)

(they always laugh)

  “Freak! Freak!!” Maggie shrieked in giggles.

Everything was starting to bleed together. A blur of black and silver marched through the crowd below; Jane Parker slapped Anthony hard across the face.

Joan gasped.

Miss Aragon and Principal Holbein rush up to the stage, along with George Boleyn and Jane Parker. The whispers are swelling into a full thunderstorm of murmurs, but she can’t make them out. Her ears were too clogged with blood to really hear.

  “Joan?” Jane called out, and her voice was but a distant echo. “Joan, can you hear me?” She waved a hand in front of her face.

Miss Aragon gently touched Joan’s shoulder, brushed away the tangle of intestines caught against it. Her nose was twitching; she could smell the overwhelming stench of the rancid blood and guts, too.

  “Joan? Joan, sweetie, talk to me. It’s Miss Aragon.” The coach said.

But Joan does not awaken from the strange state she’s slipped into.

The adrenaline is making the strain on her body bearable, all the beautiful chemicals coursing through her veins as she flexed her powers.

That, and the anger.

It all made her so angry. Her mother. Her treatment at school. Her life. Who she was.

Fifteen long years of being the good Christian girl. Of turning the other cheek. Of enduring and bearing. Of being patient and understanding and letting things go, always letting things go.

It gets old. So fucking old.

She was tired of it.

The pillars of the Parthenon began to quake. The decorative spires and sculptures on the gym floor soon followed. Joan sent her powers through their mass and ripped them into chunks. The pieces locked together in the air like a growing puzzle until a long body was created. Wings from the ripped mural canvases, a tail of ice and marble, curved claws chipped from stone, sharp spikes torn out of chair legs, and a piece of the fire alarm and DJ booth attached to the back of the throat. 

Everyone stepped away and stared in horror as the dragon thumped to the ground on its back haunches and let out an ear-piercing roar. 

  “Say. Hello.” It spoke in a gargled voice. “Everybody. Say. Hello.”

And then, a pipe from up above was ripped free and sailed straight into Maria de Salinas’s heart.

--

August had thought they had been scared when the buckets dropped, but not even that fear could rival the absolute terror pumping through them as they stared at the bleeding corpse just a few feet away. Several people were starting to run, but they couldn’t move. It wouldn’t matter anyway; all the doors were locked. They could hear students shouting over it in a panic all around them, through the screaming.

They looked up at Joan Seymour’s bloody form and realization dawned on them with a jarring shock.

She’s going to kill us all.

The pipe pulled loose from Maria’s heart with a spurt of blood. Joan peered at it curiously, as if it were a new pet. A moment later, it flew around and jammed itself through the spot that connected the second victim’s jaw to her neck. It went all the way through and left her nearly decapitated, spasming wildly on the ground before death overcame her and she stilled. Then, the pipe spun and sailed straight through a boy’s stomach. 

By this point, full pandemonium had erupted throughout the entire theater. Everyone was running around screaming, panicking, crying. They’re trampling over each other like caged cattle—and they very well may have been, because they were all going to burn like the filthy cows they all were.

This is our punishment, August realized. For bullying her. We did this.

They looked up with tears in their eyes. The head of the conjured dragon turned to them slowly and creaked open its jaw.

  “Repent, repent, repent, repent.” It said, and then smashed its talons over August’s head.

--

Nicola couldn’t even scream when August was crushed right before her eyes. Their body crumpled like a compressed can; she could hear their bones snap and break beneath the heavy weight of the strange monster’s talons. When the claws were raised, there was a huge splattering of blood and mushed organs, which oozed slowly off stone nails in droplets of liquid ruby and rose quartz.

August was dead.

Joan was not done killing yet.

Nicola dove behind an upturned table and tried to steady her ragged breathing. She yelped when someone collapsed down in front of her.

  “Ari!” She cried.

Ari, shell shocked, but uninjured, scrambled beside her, ducking low for cover. Their eyes were wide and mortified.

  “What--what the fuck is going on?” They whispered. Each word sounded like it took great effort to speak through heaving breaths. “What--is--happening?!”

  “I-I don’t know!” Nicola replied.

Near the buffet temples, the flying pipe stabbed through a girl’s neck. Nicola shuddered and hugged her knees.

  “She’s killing us,” She whispered. “She’s killing us all.”

  “Oh god,” Ari muttered in horror. They pressed a hand to their forehead. “You know what, Nicola? I-I don’t want to die!” They laughed shakily, tears brimming in their eyes.

  “Shh. You’re not allowed to die.” Nicola said, and Ari managed a tight smile.

And then, the pipe flew by and put itself directly between Ari’s eyes.

The table tipped backward, along with Ari’s body. The pipe pulled out with a squelch and squirt of blood, leaving a gaping hole all the way through Ari’s head. Nicola vomited, she couldn’t help it.

  “Monster,” She whispered raggedly She glared at the stage through tears. “You’re a monster!” 

Joan twitched, but didn’t look at her. Nicola braced herself and prepared for the pipe to come around and take her life, but it didn’t. It was currently embedded in the stomachs of two students at once. No, instead, her executioner was a snake that rose up from one of the candles.

Nicola’s breath caught in her throat as she watched the flaming serpent coil out from the candle. It was huge, with bright golden eyes and a tongue that spewed embers when it flicked out at her. Then, it opened its wide jaws and came at her faster than lightning.

Pain. Blinding pain. Blinding, unbearable pain.

She was on fire.

Her dress exploded into golden plumes almost instantly, with her hair following shortly after. She could feel the fabric of her gown fusing with her flesh as it dripped off her body like wax. She screamed and flailed helplessly, but it did nothing to help her. The serpent consumed her.

--

A thick shoulder smashed Violet into a rigid back. Boots stamped down on one of her feet. She heard a screech of pain that sounded like someone from her Economics class. She caught a glimpse of Principal Holbein trying desperately to calm everyone down. Someone grabbed her forearm, and she turned to see Lara, staring at a raging snake made of fire.

  “Oh god,” She whispered. “What do we do?”

  “I-I don’t know!” Violet said. “We can’t escape. The doors are locked!”

  “There has to be another way!” Lara cried. “D-don’t say that! There has to be!”

Nearby, a kid burst into flames when the snake coiled around him. The dragon jumped into the fray, shaking the entire gym when it leapt to the ground. It lashed its huge tail, connecting with a large panicking group of students and sending them sprawling with an awful symphony of breaking bones and splitting skin. It trampled over kids as it made its way to the tree and climbed to the top.

  “Respect me. Respect me. Respect me.” It said over and over again, flaring out its wings. Its mouth did not move when it spoke, rather just hung open like a snake spraying venom.

Violet and Lara backed away, getting pushed and shoved and nearly separated in the process. They clasped their hands together and watched as fire began to spread through the ripped murals against the wall.

This place was going to burn to the ground.

  “JOAN!!”

The pipe, which had taken lodging in the back of a blonde girl’s skull, flashed through the air and cleaved into its next victim’s stomach, silencing them.

Lara gasped and buried her face in her talons.

  “Oh no,” Violet whispered. “Oh no, no, no…!”

--

Anna coughed and was startled to taste blood. She touched her lips and her fingers came back red. Then, slowly, her hands slid down to her stomach, where an even bigger patch of red was spreading across her tux. 

There was a pipe in her stomach.

Her vision blurred and she collapsed to her side, gargling on her blood.

  “Anna!!”

Joan was there, even bloodier than her, grey-blue eyes wide. Her hands hovered around the pipe, then pulled it out, sending sharp bolts of pain through Anna’s entire being.

  “Anna, Anna, no--” Joan stammered. Tears flooded down her face. “Anna, no--”

  “J-Joan--” Anna coughed. She raised a bloody hand and Joan clasped it in her own. 

  “Anna, I’m so sorry!” Joan said. “I-I didn’t mean to…” She glanced at the gaping red horror in Anna’s stomach. “I didn’t mean to…”

  “I know,” Anna said. “I-I know you...you didn’t…” Everything was starting to blur together.

  “No, Anna, don’t die!” Joan begged. “Don’t die! You can’t die!”

  “Think...think I still have a shot at being a singer?” Anna choked out a laugh that was thick with blood.

Joan sniffled and nodded tearfully. “Y-yeah, of course.” She said. “Y-you’d be the best!”

Anna smiled weakly up at her. Her brain felt very fuzzy all of a sudden. The pain was getting worse.

No. No. She cannot die, not now, not after all she’s done. Surely she won’t—the wound is likely not nearly as terrible as it felt, or this is some nightmare and she’ll wake up any moment, and there will be no more blood and George and Jane and Joan will be teasing her for falling asleep at prom and then they’ll go to the Blazer.

She doesn’t wake up.

And now she can’t breathe--her chest heaved and she gasped and coughed, and suddenly her throat felt very hot and full and it’s terribly uncomfortable. 

She doesn’t want to die. But it hurt too much.

  “Joan--” She rasped. “I-I can’t--”

  “No.” Joan said through gritted teeth. Then, she softly pushed Anna’s head up to look at her. The spotlights glowed around her and made her look like a blood soaked angel. “You‘re not dying today. Not here.” She sniffled. “Not in my arms, Anna.”

Anna frowned and parted her lips, gasping for air so loud Joan’s own air almost got pulled out of her lungs. 

  “Please.” She begged quietly. “You have to--”

The rest of the words didn't come out, but Joan’s face paled and she understood.

  “No, Anna,” She whispered. “No. Not after I--”

  “I-it hurts, Joan.” Anna said. 

  “I-I can fix you!” Joan said, shaking her head. Blood from her hair splatter everywhere. “I-I can sew your wound! I-it’s gonna be okay!”

Anna shook her head sluggishly. “Joan,” She whispered firmly. “You can’t. You know that.” She lifted a quaking hand and wiped away one of Joan’s tears, smearing the blood already on her face. “Don’t--don’t be--sad.” 

  “W-we were supposed to w-watch that movie together,” Joan whimpered. “And have a party. You can’t die, Anna.”

  “I’m sorry,” Anna breathed out. Then, quietly, she said, “I love you.”

  “I love you.” Joan said back

Anna’s face lit up, regardless of the pain. “You’re incredible,” She said.

Joan cried harder. 

  “Don’t let--don't let this--w-world tell you--otherwise, mh?” She said. “Don’t let it--it ruin--you.”

  “Anna, please.” Joan sobbed. “Please, please don't go. I-I need you. You--you brought me back to life.”

  “And I’d do that again--and again..and again--”

Anna was delirious. She caressed Joan’s cheeks with her thumbs, and Joan leaned her forehead against hers. Joan let the silence between them fill the void she started feeling inside of her for a few seconds, but her sobs soon came back, filling the stage’s space. All around them in the gym, the panic of students and teacher chaperones was unified into stillness. They were all watching transfixed in shock and despair. 

  “Thank you,” Anna whispered.

  “F-for what?” Joan asked.

Anna smiled. “For giving me the best night of my life.”

Anna’s neck snapped. Joan knew where to send her powers into her spinal cord to make her stop crying. Hurting. 

To make it all stop.

If someone had asked her to do this, she would’ve killed herself. She would kill herself for Anna a thousand times. Over and over. She would let anyone torture her, use her, hurt her, however whenever wherever they would like to. But Anna asking her to end her suffering… She could not bear this. She could not bear her pain...not this one. 

Not like this.  

The one person who ever truly cared about her. The one person who genuinely wanted to be around her… She killed her.

Joan let out a long, keening whimper and began to rock back and forth, cradling Anna’s upper body against her chest. 

If they only could’ve had more time. If they only could’ve had some more time to spend together, some more time to share, some more time to be friends. In such a short period of time, Anna had turned into the big sister she never knew she wanted or ever had. She wanted to be next to Anna forever and always. She wanted to be with her and her friends and even Katherine.

But it didn’t matter now. Anna was dead. And no amount of power was going to bring her back.

Joan cried for several long moments, clutching Anna’s corpse. Fresh blood mingled with the blood coating her entire being. Warmth was slowly draining out of Anna’s body.

And then, something itched in her throat and, holding Anna closer, she tipped her head back.

The thing that overcame the silence was just a noise, one that had been boiling up in Joan’s chest for hours; long before she had gotten blood dumped over her head, or walked into prom, or even got invited to prom at all.

Joan didn’t yell a whole lot, never had. She’d always had the tendency to quietly brood when her temper ran high or her spirits low, something that had helped facilitate her transformation over the years of torment and torture. So in reality, the noise that was escaping her right now was one she’d been holding back for a very long time.

It sounded stupid. But it felt good.

So she kept doing it. Screaming. Over and over again until it just turned into one long roar of agony and fury and anguish.

Intimidating or not, effective or not, when a sound was being uttered over and over by a teenage girl who’s been living the closest thing to Hell that could exist on God’s green earth, a teenage girl covered in blood with wild eyes, a mangy body, and a lifetime worth of pain...

It was a goddamn battle-cry.

Joan gently placed her flower crown on Anna’s chest, situating her limp hands to where they were holding on it, then stood very, very slowly as if she were underwater, or her muscles were buckled into place. Her movements weren’t right- they were too twitchy and abrupt like a robot with rusted limbs. And her eyes—god, her eyes… They were wider than humanly possible.

She stood, dripping with blood, tears still streaming down her cheeks, and stared out at the audience. 

(i’m going to kill you all)

Someone should tell the Devil she was going to room with him because she was about to turn this place into a living Hell.

Grace period ended with the striking of the flaming snake. A poor boy in a dark purple tux burst into flames, and screaming erupted all around him once again. 

  “Oh fuck! Oh god!”

  “We’re all going to die!”

  “Open the door!”

  “Somebody call 999!!”

  “HELP!!!!”

Madness. It was pure madness.

(nobody will EVER laugh at me again)

She imagined storming into the school and screaming her head off at the inconsiderate teachers, the rude students. She’s a smart kid, dammit! She’s been in school as long as everyone else, and she’s very good at it. No more questioning her, no more arguing or trying to make her look foolish, no more bullying. 

And then, it happened. Within the space of the gym, it happened. Absolute mayhem.

She imagined setting fire to the entire school, not caring about how much money it would cost to fix it. Just to hear the crackles of flames, just to watch the people scramble, just to be the chaos instead of the shield against it.

Roaring flames tore along the walls of the gym, thanks to Judgement. Her dragon at the top of the tree helped by fanning the fire with its giant wings, throwing embers all throughout the room. Students squealed when they were burned, music to Joan’s ears. Someone crumpled to the ground, charred as black as night. Someone else with their tux on fire was screaming for help. Several burned corpses lay half in, half out of the firestorm, so melted and disfigured that their gender could barely be made out.

She imagined stalking into her classes, kicking the door open like she would sometimes try to do with the prayer closet. She would watch class jump in surprise and fear, not just staring at her like she’s her mother’s trained puppy. 

Her fingers clenched and someone’s head popped like a balloon, splattering bits of brain and bone all over the faces of the people around them. They all shrieked in horror. Someone else yelled in a higher register, and Joan realized it was some guy coming at her with a knife he must have snuck into the party. She couldn’t touch it, but she could feel her power surging through her fingers and she leaned into it, snatching the knife right out of the boy’s hands and making it cut murderously across his throat like the widest, most bloody smile in the world.

She imagined punching Anne in the face, hearing the crack of her nose. Better than any of the bullshit Christian music her mother makes her listen to.

And then, relishing it, she imagined dunking her into water until she couldn’t breathe, she imagined stealing Bessie’s clothes and leaving her stranded naked in a bathroom stall for hours, she imagined tripping Maria in the hallway and having her break her jaw on the way down, she imagined putting a snake in Maggie’s shoe and watching her howl and foam at the mouth when it pumped her full of venom.

Who’s the boss now? Who’s the tough one, who doesn’t take shit, who doesn’t do anything she doesn’t want, ever?

She imagined growling into all of their ears as she tore into all of them and didn’t care how much of a devil it made her.

How do you like me now?

Being strong, and bold, and standing up, taking what she wants when she wants it, for the first time in her goddamn life. Because, before this, she would have never done any of that stuff she imagines.

She never did that.

She never defended herself or stood up for herself or fought back.

She only endured and endured and endured like a good little girl, like Mama wanted, like how Mama made her.

It's what's best for her. What's best for everyone.

But not anymore.

Never again.

Joan reached out her powers and found Maggie among the panic.

(never again Maggie never again)

(you will never hurt anyone else ever again)

She coiled her powers around Maggie’s shoulders and clenched down. When the grasp was tight enough, she began telekinetically pulling away from Maggie’s body. Instantly, Maggie was alerted that something was very wrong when her arms raised outwards against her will. She fought against Joan’s power, but was much too weak, and began to scream loudly at the strain on her flesh.

  “Maggie!” Anthony yelled in shock. “What’s wr--”

Joan halted his sentence. She didn’t want him speaking anymore. 

She found his organs after a quick moment of searching and vacuumed them upwards. Anthony gagged loudly and clutched at his stomach. His throat bulged like an anaconda was trying to slither out of his body, and then his guts came pouring out of his mouth. 

Everyone shrieked much louder than they were before, or at least those not completely panicking. Anthony’s stomach splattered to the ground first, then his kidneys and liver, large intestines, and then his small intestines, which didn’t make it all the way out and dangled from his mouth like a half eaten snake. He collapsed into the pool of his own insides, empty and very much dead.

  “Anthony!!” Maggie shrieked, tears pouring out of her eyes. A moment later, her arms ripped off of her body and began spewing blood everywhere. Delicate bones poked out like stars on a dark night from the fresh openings against her shoulders. She would bleed to death quickly, and Joan left her to die on the floor, hoping it would be painful.

She looked around, noting how many people were still left alive. She watched Judgement corral three students, one of which fainted from terror. He set them all on fire and then whisked off for new prey. The girl who fainted woke up screaming, but the screams didn’t last very long.

Where was Anne?

(she ran)

(coward coward coward)

She had to go after Anne.

Joan got into the sprinklers overhead and activated them. The spray of water felt amazing over her tingling skin. The blood, mostly dried, began to run in red trails, but she knew it would do little to really clean her the way she wanted it to.

(i’m coming Anne)

But first, she had to finish what she started.

--

Violet took one step too close to the white tree where the watching dragon was perched. Having spotted her, the dragon roared a challenge, extending its wings in a brilliant display of dominance.

The roar it made was earth shattering.

Violet was still recovering from the roar when the dragon jumped down and its spiked forearm slammed into her chest, catapulting her backwards. It went after her, crushing several students into nothing beneath its talons, then pierced her with its tail, leaving her dangling several feet from the ground. Rich, ruby red blood drizzled from the razor sharp point.

She felt faint, the pain radiating through her like a dull ache as the dragon slowly brought her around, its beady white glass eyes fixed on her. She tried to wriggle free, but the sharp edge of the tail tearing into her unresisting flesh caused her to slide further down the blood-streaked appendage. The tail grated through her organs, cutting clean through them. She coughed blood and moaned weakly. Everything was starting to spin.

  “Violet!!” Lara cried from down below.

Violet coughed blood again. The dragon lashed its tail and sent her flying free. She hit the floor roughly, hearing several bones snap, and then went very still. The last thing she ever heard was the sound of Lara’s skeleton being crushed in the jaws of the dragon.

--

Aragon was rarely ever scared, but the mayhem that had erupted throughout the gym nearly had her paralyzed with fear. For a moment, as she watched the destruction break out, she felt as though she couldn’t breathe, especially when she saw Anthony Lee spill his guts from his mouth, but when the sprinklers kicked on overhead, she put her head back on her shoulders.

She had to get out.

Amid the chaos, she saw a flash of white and purple- Bessie. She hurried over to the bleach-haired student, who was in the middle of a pretty bad panic attack, and grabbed her by the shoulders.

  “Bessie! Bessie? Bessie, listen to me!” She shook her shoulders. “Come with me, alright?”

Bessie, unable to muster up any comprehensible reply, nodded. Aragon took her hand and began guiding her to a set of side doors that weren’t as blocked off as the rest of the exits. However, they were just as jammed as all the others.

  “Fuck!” Aragon hissed, yanking on the handle.

  “Wh-what do we do, Miss Aragon?!” Bessie whimpered, shivering.

Aragon looked around desperately, then located a vent up near the ceiling nearby.

  “Get a chair!”

Bessie obeyed and grabbed the closest, most stable chair she could find. Aragon stood on it and ripped off the vent cover, then hopped back down. She had to let her kids go first.

  “Go!” She shouted over the pandemonium. “Hurry! Get in!”

Bessie didn’t hesitate. She kicked off her heels and stood up on the chair, scrambling into the vent as quick as she could. Several other students who were smart enough to come over followed her in. By the time it was her turn to climb in, the sprinklers had cut off and the ground was covered in a layer of water.

Joan stepped off of the stage slowly. With every step she took, the water around her spread away so she would be walking on dry ground. Above her, the electrical equipment holding up the spotlights crackled, and Aragon realized what was about to happen.

  “EVERYBODY, GET OFF THE FLOOR!!!” She screamed.

Aragon leapt up onto the chair and flung her arms inside the vent. As she was pulling herself up, the chair flipped and she was left dangling above the ground. And, at the same time, the electrical equipment exploded into sparks and fell to the floor.

It was horrifying. Absolutely horrifying. She watched her students spasm as they were electrocuted and then drop to the ground like birds with broken wings. Hundreds must have died, and she would soon join them. Any second now, her arms would give out and she’d plummet into the electrically charged water, joining the kids as a corpse inside the gym.

Her life began to flash before her eyes, surely thinking she was about to die. But then, a strange, unseen force began to lift her up and tuck her gently into the vent. When she turned her head, she saw Joan looking at her with shining eyes.

[just-call-me-johnny-archive]

The following contains mentions/implications of abuse, attempted sexual harrassment, mentions/implications of past sexual abuse/assault, graphic depictions of homicide/torture, mentions/implications of past suicide attempts, implications of police/military violence. Reader discretion is advised.

Johnny didn't learn for a while what the house wanted from him. It was clear that it demanded something of him. The ceiling seemed too low, mold-ridden even if he couldn't see any. The floors were freezing- wooden and splintering, but he hadn't bled once despite getting some shards embedded painfully into his hands when he searched the ground for his pencils after the moon went down. 

Every number he called about the electricity going out lead to a dial tone. His phone was strangely the only electronic- the only appliance- that still worked in the house. He had no idea how much time had passed since he'd been left in the bathroom to die and woke up with stark scars on his forearms, the shower curtain draped over his body, and the bathtub dry as a bone. And Vargas gone. For good it seemed. 

He almost wanted to believe it was a nightmare- that it all was a nightmare. So he tried to pick his life back up as he stepped out of the bathtub and went to find clothes and the thermostat.

One day, he found a bill on the table in front of the TV. He couldn't remember when he'd received any mail recently- let alone opened it. Even stranger than the bill was the message that had been printed on it. There wasn't any amount under 'AMOUNT DUE.' The only other print on the paper was red text reading 'UTILITY SERVICE TERMINATED DUE TO NONPAYMENT. REMIT PAYMENT TO CONTINUE SERVICE.'

There wasn't an address or a phone number to contact regarding the bill. Johnny was left confused over how to alleviate this debt. He didn't know who, when, where, or what. The only thing that he still had control over was the 'how.' He needed a job. 

 After digging around for a week or so, Johnny managed to uncover his portfolio that he'd submitted copies of alongside Edgar. He was not about to go back there- they loved his boyfriend and always doubted Johnny's judgment. 

There was a new comic publishing company; a start-up with a promising, rich CEO that was recruiting new styles. Macabre. Gothic. Grotesque. Mindfuck. It was perfect for Johnny. 

He put on the best outfit from his closet, something with a blazer and no rips in the jeans. He'd done his hair until the two antennae that hung over his face were hidden amongst the rest of his combed blue hair. Johnny walked into the office feeling confident that his second chance at life had been a blessing or a reward for surviving. 

Everyone working at the company currently was skinny, wired, and brutal. Nobody seemed to actually be creating anything- instead, they were all busy working on photo manipulation and advertisements. There also seemed to be someone altering a passport photo meticulously. 

Johnny's meeting with the CEO started off alright enough. The man listened to the artist speak about his work and he even asked a few things here or there. He asked something about the paint choice and Johnny responded in a way that he hoped didn't sound too try hard but also genuine. In truth, Vargas didn't let him use anything else.

Maybe he could sense that. Maybe the man could tell that Johnny was an easy target. Maybe Johnny had painted 'patsy' on his forehead in asshole-vision invisible ink.

Whatever had caused the conversation to turn towards Johnny's personal life- particularly his relationship status- was unimportant. He wanted to leave, but he figured that the man would probably ask that for reference purposes or perhaps personally-identifying information. Johnny told the CEO that he was single, recently left a relationship with his ex-fiance. The way that the man reacted should have said enough to him, but he tried to reason with his brain; he was overreacting. 

But to put it crudely, the CEO wanted fresh meat and Johnny was a free-bleeding fresh cut. Eyes still clear. Silent like a fish out of water, when he moved over and started massaging Johnny's shoulders, saying how awful that must have been. That he was there for him. That he was recently divorced himself. He understood. 

Johnny felt his hand being moved, heard a zipper being pulled down, and when the CEO moved his mouth to press against his ear, all Johnny remembered was that he had the other man's letter opener embedded in the space directly below his eye socket. He registered the crack of bone giving under unforgiving metal. The burst of red sprayed across his face and his shirt. The screaming. His screaming. 

He was on his knees over the blubbering, defaced CEO shouting out as if he was emptying every last moment of anger or shame or hurt into the puncture marks that kept adding up. Johnny wasn't sure if he was crying or that his body was finally catching up- maybe he was having a heart attack. 

He has no idea how long he kneeled on the grimey black floor of the CEO's office before he realized that nobody was coming. Surely, someone must have heard them. Was the police waiting right outside the door- bullets trained on him- ready to shoot to kill? The man who was under Johnny's blade was miraculously still alive- dying- but still actually alive and he only then heard the tiny whimpers of 'please, don't kill me' 'I'll change.' 

Johnny grabbed the man's stripped, bloodied face, digging his fingernails into the wounds, and his heart sung with the screeches that rung throughout the office. There was nothing else there except for Johnny and the filth disguised as a human being. 

He listened to him plead, held his face in his hands as the man continues to plead pathetically. Johnny's heart nearly jumped this time when he claimed 'he'd change'.

"No; you won't." His voice was venomous, low and angry in a way that sounded calm. "You will never change. You know what happens when I give people like you the opportunity to change? Do you? They stop for a little while, sometimes days, sometimes decades, because they're so fucking scared for their life. For jail time, for repercussion, Hell maybe for the Devil himself coming to fuck them up the ass for what they've done. But when the Devil doesn't come, when the tabloids remain silent, when the name becomes deceased or missing or disappears completely, you go right back to what you'd been doing before. You put your fingers or your face or your dick wherever you want because you think you're untouchable. You think you are above the lives that you've ruined. You think that they deserve it- or maybe that you deserve it for being so good for so long, right? Well, guess what?" 

"You won't get to do that because I'm going to end your life right here, right now. I'm going to end whatever cycle of abuse that may or may have swept you up and corrupted you - brought you to believe you somehow are entitled to this pain that you inflict on others. And I'm going to enjoy it."

The man was able to only let out a sharp 'please, no' before Johnny grabbed his skull and twisted it until he heard a snap and the person below him had turned into a corpse. Into a past tense. 

He was coated in blood. 

Johnny dropped the body unceremoniously before he shakily got onto his feet. It was copious. It was gruesome. He threw up into a potted plant near the door. He gathered his portfolio into his arms and picked up his application from the CEO's desk. Johnny slipped the single piece of paper into the paper shredder, watching it turn into dozens of tiny bits of future bunny bedding.  

He braced himself before he stepped into the workplace. He expected a lot of things. He expected to see a huge stack of chairs and terrified workers huddled behind them like frightened raccoons. He expected SWAT, FBI, CSI, NCSI, the Navy, Army, Air Force, Coast Guard, and the Marines. He expected to have a bunch of horrified, traumatized faces staring back at him.

Instead, they looked annoyed. And the only people who were annoyed were the ones whose desks were closest to the CEO's office door. They glared at him, sneering like he was covered in shit and not in blood. Then they were completely disinterested. He was just some freak. They gossiped amongst themselves, but otherwise didn't approach Johnny. 

The man tore out of the comic publishing building and ran all the way home. It was midday- in the middle of December or January, where the sun was absent and the wind was unforgiving. Johnny had sweat through his stained clothing and the temperature change between the outside and the inside of his house was minute. The only shelter he had from the Winter chill was just covering from the elements.

Johnny walked into the bathroom and over to the bathtub and tossed the downed shower curtain out of the way. The water was freezing and felt like needles against even his clothed skin as he attempted to wash away the blood. It streamed down, staining the white porcelain as it streaked off of him and into the drain. 

The man had put his head against the tile, directly under the showerhead as he held himself. His eyes were shut tight, so it took him a moment of brief confusion before he opened his eyes to the bright lights of the bathroom and a gradually increasing warm shower. 

The water was perfect now and after getting past the initial shock, he undressed and continued to clean himself off the best he could. All that remained after he finished was the blood caked under his fingernails. He would cut them later. 

Johnny dried off using a somewhat warm, scruffy towel, it had been hanging there on the rack since he first awoke in the bathroom. He wrapped it around himself before he explored the rest of the house. It was warm, and the lights were all on. The electronics were all buzzing in a way they hadn't unless in memories. He opened the fridge and found that the food in there had not rotted. He picked out some lunch meat from a drawer and savored the usually incorrigible processed salty ham. He couldn't remember the last time he ate. Or the last time he slept. 

He needed clothes. He needed to get rid of the clothes at the bottom of his tub. Johnny went over to the bedroom where he hadn't tread since awakening. The light was on. The bed was still done but looked slept in. He went and grabbed the first shirt and pants and underwear that he found and then quickly went to clean up the mess in the bathroom.

He wrung the blazer out, pink-red water had poured and then streamed and then dribbled. He repeated this with the pants and then the shirt and his underwear and socks. His boots were not salvageable. That's fine. It was all fine. 

At least for now he did not have to immediately worry about paying the bill. In fact, the house felt warmer when he returned inside after he buried the clothes under the dirt of his dead front lawn. Johnny found a new paper attached to his freezer. He figured he'd missed it when he first went for the ham. 

He took it down after he grabbed a bag of microwavable pizza pocket bites. Johnny didn't know what it meant and how it happened, but he didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth. He was given another chance for a reason. He gnawed at his fingernails as he watched the plate spin in the microwave and the house hummed with life as it was finally fed.

'PAYMENT RECEIVED. 

UTILITY SERVICE WILL RESUME AS NORMAL. 

EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY. 

THANK YOU.' 

[alarians-history-and-lore]

Violet fire (Flashback)

A group of young Alarian guys, just past their mid twenties, walked together. A wild redhead, a calm looking blond with glasses, and a wild white haired, freckled one.

They talked of science and engineering, all being from the same class together. Wyrran was going on about thermal systems, when Tan'l, the redhead, nudged him.

"Hey. Wyrr. Don't look now, but I think you have a pair of eyes on you." He snickered, poining across the hallway to an absolutely beautiful young woman with a few of her own friends.

She had soft purple eyes and a fluff of slightly blue hair, and she was looking right at him.

Wyrran felt a blush creep up him and shoved Tan'l. "Hey, come on! She's not interested in me. Shut your mouth."

The blond, Keyto, snorted. "Pfff. Come on. She's been eyeing you for weeks. Heard she's really, really firey. Lowkey a little crazy."

Wyrran shook his head. "Ain't got time for girls. Besides. No one's interested in a nerd like me."

He huffed and started walking on, the two others giving each other a look and shaking their heads.

Dense.

--

"Hey."

Wyrran looked up from his book and notes, staring right into a pair of intense purple eyes.

"Hey nerd."

Wyrran tried not to be irritated at the interruption, staring up at her. "Um, yes? I'm studying."

The girl gave him a slightly offended huff, closing his book.

"Hey!"

"C'mon there, egghead. Come out of the pages a while. I want to talk to you." She grinned. "Too busy?"

"Pff. Quit teasing. Girls don't talk to me. Besides. I'm busy." Wyrran huffed, waiting for her to remove her hand from the book so he could find his page.

"I'm talking to you, dummy. Now. I have something to say. You gonna listen or not?"

Wyrran stared up at her lovely royally purple eyes, rolling his diamond ones. "Fine. Make it quick."

Emyyan Tayo was not known for a relaxed or shy disposition. She leaned in, staring him right in the eyes, intense.

"I want to court you." She said firmly.

Wyrran stared at her for a long moment, then started laughing softly. "Me? Come on."

"Yes, Ryfon. You. I. want. You." Emyyan gave him a wild grin. "Now. I'm gonna ask you on a first date, okay?" Emyyan poked him in the shoulder. "The nice little shop near the school, I would like a meal there. I'll pay if you're a coward."

Wyrran was stunned when he realized she was serious."W-what? You... me?? Us??" He blurted out, sputtering.

"See you there tomorrow at lunch." Emyyan grinned, walking away with a flick of her hair.

Wyrran just sat there, watching her walk away. Absolutely stunned.

"What---"

A date? Him? But he wasn't even good looking or charming or buff! All the things that a lady like her would go for in a partner. Him?

She must be playing a joke on him.

--

He sat there, sitting across from her, those intense purple eyes staring right into his soul.

He'd barely touched his food, she'd finished hers.

"So." Emyyan said calmly. "What do you study, eh nerd?"

"Engineering and astronomy. Space-" He stuttered. "Spaceship design."

"Oh. Booooring." She huffed. "Heh. Should have expected that, though. You're boring for such a cute guy."

Wyrran just blinked at her. He couldn't believe the prettiest and most straightforward, firey, absolutely beautiful girl in the entire school had picked him to court.

"I'm studying genetics and experimental stuff. The dangerous new frontiers." Emyyan said proudly. "Stuff like core experiments. You should see the inside of one when its sliced in half."

Wyrran uneasily chuckled, hand going to his core. He wouldn't have the guts to mess with those like that.

"S-sliced...?"

"Yeah. The inside is really neat, like... like... here." She grabbed a pencil and a napkin and drew a large circle. "That's the hard shell." She drew a smaller circle in the middle, and then a bunch of squiggly lines connecting the two. "That's it's heart in the centre, where all the light comes from, where its... brain is. Sorta. And these wiggly bits are the connections between. And then the roots, the conduits grow out from there." She drew some lines out. "We also do tests with them... like with frequencies and stuff. And see how they react to different things. We put one in an animal!" She squeaked excitedly.

Wyrran blinked nervously. She intimidated him. His hand stayed over his heart, an uneasy feeling coming from his core. As if it didn't like the thought of being sliced in half.

"Wow. That's... crazy!" He told her, remembering to try and take another bite of food.

"Sure is. But I'm into it." Emyyan refused to stop staring at him. "Kind of fun."

"Isn't that sort of stuff... frowned upon?" He took a drink.

"Pff. Sort of. But it's a necessary field of science to make progress. I know a lot about cores, space boy." Emyyan grinned. "Did you know they can absolutely grow in nonbiological places?" She leaned forward onto the table. "They can grow with simulated heartbeats. All they need is a steady thing to grow on to. We got one to grow inside a tube." She giggled excitedly.

Wyrran felt more and more uneasy, losing appetite.

"Cores are- are alive! I feel like that would count as- torture." He murmured.

"They- come on. They don't think, dummy." Emyyan snorted. "Sure, they echo the feelings and soul of the one that made them, and the instincts that guide them, but they're not... alive alive. No more really than a tree."

"My mom says plants can have feelings." Wyrran informed her. "She grows all sorts of plants. And she's real good at it, too."

"I'm sure she is." Emyyan said softly, still staring into his eyes.

"Why do you keep... looking at me like that?" Wyrran asked, nervous.

"Because you're hot." Emyyan said frankly. "Very hot."

Wyrran went red as a tomato, freckles vanishing into his blush. "I'm- I'm what??"

"Hot as a gasfire. Smokin." She grinned. "I love your eyes."

Wyrran swallowed, feeling frozen under her gaze.

"So, do you accept my courtship, Ryfon?"

"HhhhhhhhhhhhhhHhh-"

"That's not an answer, really. But I'll take it as a yes." She reached forward and gave him a small touch on the head. "You're my boyfriend now, okay?"

"HHHHHhh-"

"Nice. I'll see you at school tomorrow, Wyrrie!" Emyyan stood up and payed for their food, skipping off happily.

Wyrran sat there staring into space for the next hours.

--

Wyrran was practicing his swordfighting in his yard, slicing at and dodging an imaginary opponent, trying to be as light on his feet as possible.

He'd always had a knack for it. His mother was a bit more of a bow and arrow kind of gal, but the first weapon he'd ever summoned had been his sword. And ever since, he'd been determined to learn everything with it. Become as one as he could with it.

He was gracefully dancing about with it, panting slightly with the sensation of light going up his arm.

Every time one of the tiny living particles that made it up died, another would move to take its place in the sword. A steady flow from the centre of him.

Sure made him feel alive.

He'd gone on dozens of dates with Emy, and he was finally comfortable with her. She was straightforward and firey. A little bit nuts. Impulsive.

She had a softer side to her, but it was rarely seen. Emyyan was absolutely infatuated with him, he could see that.

Love was growing in him for her constantly, but goodness, she was... a lot to handle.

"Hey, Wyrrie!" He jumped at the pet name, turning to see that she'd climbed the fence around his mom's house, and was sitting in her tree. "Nice moves! Think you'd be that good in a bed?" She laughed loudly, jumping out of the tree and walking over to him.

He couldn't help but wonder what weapon she was good with. He stared as she approached, red coming to his face at her... suggestion.

"Dunno." He shrugged. "How's it going, Em?" He asked.

"Very good. You practicing, hmm?" Em put a finger on the edge of the sword, running a finger down it with a flirtatious look in her eyes. "Wanna spar with me, Wy?"

Now this was something he could beat her at, surely. He was pretty good with his sword. The late twenties Wyrran gave her a grin.

"You're on."

"Cool. One thing first." Emyyan leaned in, hand on his sword. "I wanna add in a wager. I win... we finish our courtship. Thzkehz. We bond." She grinned.

Wyrran went red, eyes widening. "Hh??! Already? We've only been... dating for about two years! You want to-"

"What, not confident with your fancy butter knife? Think you can't beat a girl?" Emy teased, running her hand on the blade to the point where it cut her a little. She hummed softly, looking down at the cut on her hand, blood beginning to leak from it.

Wyrran just stared into those amethyst eyes, and then nodded. "Fine. I'll show you what I'm made of, Em. Get ready for a fight." He got into his fighting stance, ready.

Emyyan bunched her cut hand into a fist, light zipping up into it, causing a confident and fast heal. She smiled and wiggled it, barely fazed by the blood. "Challenge has been accepted, then. I'll try not to hurt you."

She held out her hands and summoned a long pole, blades on either side of it, getting into her own stance. She stared him right in the eyes. "You go first, Wyrrie."

He stared at her for a moment, and then went in for a slice, dancing light on his feet. She blocked the blow with her pole, spinning it to block his sword and catching him on his arm with a blade. He winced and backed up immediately, pulling up a shield. She went for him, stabbing with one end of the pole for him. He brought up the sword to block it, moving to hit her with the shield.

She stopped her shield with his hand and kicked him in one of his legs, immediately hitting him with a blunt edge of her pole.

Wyrran hissed in pain and went for a second sword instead of the shield.

They fought back and forth for a while, dancing here and there around the yard, using everything and anything as a part of it. It got pretty intense, and Wyrran had several slices in his shirt, a few of which were bleeding.

He'd only actually hit her twice.

He was panting when she ran for him again, and he took a deep breath, deciding to use something else he was practicing. As she ran at him, he focused energy through his whole body... and just barely managed to teleport. She let out a surprised yelp when he disappeared from in front of her. He hadn't have gone far.

She turned around to see him slicing for her, trying to get a hit off so he could knock her over and win.

She disappeared before he could touch her and a heartbeat later he was on the ground, and she stuck the end of the pole just brushing against the core connection on his spine, where it hit his nervous system.

A spot that if sliced would be very bad. And was considered a little dangerous to be putting weapons near.

He shuddered, swords vanishing. "Em! Holy-"

She pushed it slightly, just slightly into his back, not enough to even go through the skin, but enough that he cried out slightly.

"I win. That means I win."

Wyrran held still, actually terrified. He'd agreed to this. And now...

He swallowed heavily, still frozen under her.

Wyrran had to marry her completely. The act of binding their souls together.

"You fold, Wyrrie?" She asked, voice triumphant. "I've been waiting for this. I wanted you the moment I saw you. Now. Get up." She nudged the spot again, getting a distressed squeak from him, before stepping off of him and letting her pole go.

It took him a moment to recover physically from that poke, standing shakily up. He wasn't ready for this. Courting was one thing... bondage?

Terrified wasn't even close to the feeling in his chest.

He looked over at her, a hand over his slightly shaken, distressed core.

He could feel it shivering inside him from that poke. He gripped at his chest, staring up at her eyes from where he stood, half crouched. "Em... I don't know if-"

Emyyan took a step forward, putting a hand on his chin and forcing him to look up at her.

"Not going back on our wager, are you, Ryfon?" She asked, a serious look in her eyes. "That'd be pretty dishonest of you." She sounded hurt.

Wyrran was just a scared young man, staring into her eyes. Could he say no? He could, right? It was his choice too. He could.

But he... had agreed.

"N-no. We had a deal. You win, we bind."

He couldn't tear his eyes from her.

She smiled warmly. "Oh, wonderful. I can't wait. Shall we?"

"Wh- what about your family's permission? The ceremony?" He sputtered. "Now?"

Emyyan shook her head. "As if I respect my deadbeat of a dad enough to ask his permission to marry the man I love. Besides. We just fought. And I won. That was the ceremony, as far as I'm concerned. I'm ready, Wyrrie." She pulled him in and kissed him.

Eito, she was hot. And sassy.

Wyrran chuckled a little, even if this filled him with butterflies. He was... well, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious.

He let her drag him away into the house, knowing his mom wasn't home right now.

This... this was it.

The woman he was going to spend his life with.

Wyrran would give his all for her.

--

"Are you working on that dumb spaceship again?" Wyrran looked up from his sketches and design ideas to see Emyyan there, an annoyed look on her face.

He ducked a little. "Uh... yes?" He gave her a small smile. "I told you Em, it's my dream. To fly."

She rolled her eyes and sat across from him. "Huh. Well. I think you should get your head out of the stars, hun. And focus on this. We're married. Remember?"

Wyrran blinked at her. "I- I know. But... I can't help it. The stars call to me. Always have." He held up the sketch he'd made of an egg shaped ship. "See? It's going to have....probably three engines. And... plenty of room for a whole family, when we start one up. I mean, not that we haven't been trying, anyway. But once it happens. We can all fly together!"

Emyyan looked annoyed. "I don't want to leave. I like it just fine on the ground." She huffed. "I don't want to go careening through the empty void. There's nothing but danger and terror and empty, vast, boring wastes out there. What even is so exciting?"

"Adventure. Intrigue. It's beautiful out there... and I promise I'll show you the beauty." Wyrran assured her gently.

Emyyan stared at the sketch in his hands, dubious at best. "Huh. Well. Besides that, there's something I want to tell you. Get over here, babe."

Wyrran nodded and walked over to her, and she stood, grabbing his hands. Their eyes met.

He blushed, staring warmly at her. A year and a half ago now, they'd binded. Sealed it. He adored her.

He leaned in and gave her a kiss, and she giggled.

Emyyan leaned forward, staring intently into his eyes. She pressed both his hands against her lower body. "We've been trying... hard. And we did it. Finally. I started... I started feeling it a little while ago. I'm at the very least a month or so in."

Her eyes widened, filled with excitement and warmth.

"I'm with child, Wyrran." She said it warmly, eyes staring into his soul.

Wyrran's jaw dropped open. He stared at her in disbelief, hands pressing softly against her for a moment, and then he felt a little lightheaded when it hit him.

"Hhhh???" He made confused and startled noises, and then stumbled back a bit. "You're- you're- Ohhhhh. Oh boy. Oh-" He had to lean against the wall, trying not to fall over. "Oh. Oh Ralin. Oh boy."

"Don't hyperventilate, dear." She giggled, watching him sort of fold into himself. "Breathe, okay?"

He started laughing breathily, weakly. "Oh my gosh I'm going to- I'm going to be a dad! I'm a father! I--- ohhh my head." Wyrran looked up at her, standing there. "Em... you feel okay? No... no hiccups yet?"

"I got a few this morning. That's when I decided to tell you." She smiled. "You know what this means? It means we have to stay."

He blinked, confused. "Huh?"

"We have to stay on Alar. You wouldn't seriously take a little baby to space." She said it like it was certain.

Wyrran straightened slightly, even still feeling lightheaded. "Well, by the time we get the ship built and ready, the little one would be more than old enough. I'm only just starting build-" He paused.

"You've-- you've started?" Emyyan sounded ticked. "Are you kidding me?" She stomped a foot. "Wyrran! I said I don't want to go to space! I said you choose it or me!"

Wyrran shrunk under her gaze. He'd started work on the ship without telling her a month into their marriage, actually. He had several designs in mind... but had pretty much narrowed down what he wanted at that point. "Uhhhh... Emmie?"

"Don't you Emmie me. Where is it. Where are you hiding that stupid metal death machine?" She glared. "I'll have some people come and scrap it."

"No! Why would you do that? It's- it's my life's dream and you know it!" Wyrran yelled back. "Don't, please! I- I'm working so hard on this because... even if I don't fly with you, I still want to go some day! Please, Em, don't take it away from me. Please." The joy of the moment was ruined, replaced by indignation.

He so rarely fought back about anything, but this... this was something he was serious about.

"Wyrr. It's time to let the dream go. It's just not for us. This is what you need to focus on." Her hand went over her belly. She wasn't even showing yet. The little one was still so small... He stared down and then back up at her. "Like I said. Choose that-" She gestured to the drawings of space and machines and ships. "Or this." She gestured to herself. "Because I am not going to space. You have about ten months to think about it." Emyyan turned and walked off, still mift at him.

"Oh boy." Wyrran whispered to himself, half collapsing against the wall.

What would mom do?

He... he was going to be a father.

That scared him.

--

He winced as the door slammed practically in his face. He opened it again and watched her leave, not even looking back at him.

She was leaving to live at her old place.

The yelling, the screaming, she'd thrown things at him.

He blamed it half on the hormones, really.

"I hate your stupid ship! And I hate you! And- and- and I hate this child!" She had yelled. "You're stubborn and stupid and I can't believe I ever fell in love with you! I don't want anything to do with you ever again, Wyrran Ryfon!"

And that was it.

She just left. He watched her from the door, tears streaming down his cheeks. He'd messed it all up. He'd ruined it. She would never forgive him after this, for sure.

Rubbing at the spot on his face where she had slapped him... hard, he closed the door and moved to sit down at the table.

Why was it... so hard...?

He curled in on himself, crying. He'd clean up the mess later.

--

The letter came only a week later.

He had to force himself to open it. It was addressed from Emyyan Tayo. Not Ryfon.

He sighed and settled in his chair to read it.

To whom it concerns:

Yes, Wyrran, that means you,

As far as I'm concerned, we are no longer bonded. No longer married. From now on, we live apart as strangers. You are not to talk to me. Or approach me. Understand? I do NOT want you. Knowing you, you'll be blaming yourself for this.

Good.

It is your fault.

Now, as for our unborn child.

I do not want it.

As soon as it is born, it's yours. I no longer care about it, about you, about your stupid dream. You refused to let it go when I pleaded, begged. I just wanted a life with you. And you couldn't even give me that.

So in nine months, it will be the last time I expect to ever interact with you.

They give you the kid.

You leave.

Never, ever try and come after me.

I'll-

There were some scribbles on that part. They ran down a couple lines, as if she'd changed her mind a few times.

Just don't. I can't take it.

Be at the healing centre when they call you. I'll have that taken care of so I never have to worry about any of it again.

Goodbye.

- Emyyan Tayo

And that was all that he had left of her.

Wyrran put the letter down, hands shaking.

He was sobbing.

He'd ruined his whole chance with her, and for a stupid ship.

He summoned his sword and drove it into the table with a frustrated curse, the wood splintering.

Wyrran immediately regretted it. That was the table he'd grown up at.

He let out a distressd, long wail and collapsed back into the chair, curling in on himself, shaking with anger and fear and... and brokenness.

He was a stupid fool.

And he had only one thing left.

This child.

He would...

Wyrran would give his all for that child.

All he had left in him.