#also these are the four i know the most about

[thestuffedalligator]

The thing was a mound of flesh and mottled skin, as big as a barn and the shape of a pumpkin. Four tentacles as thick as trees hung limp at its sides; teeth ringed the gaping mouth at the top of its head like a crown.

A huge, sad whale eye the colour of wine stared at the knight. She could see her reflection in the jelly surface.

“We don’t know what it is,” she heard. “Some kind of monster that makes a perfect copy of whatever it eats. They think that was how the Dark Lord made his armies, feeding his minions to it so that it would make hundreds of copies of them. Do you recognize it?”

The knight opened her mouth. She hesitated. “Yeah,” she murmured, drawing out the word. “We found it in the Dark Lord’s tower, right?”

“That’s right. That’s where it ate you.”

The knight turned around and looked at her other reflection. This one appeared to be about ten years older, and had doffed her armor for a loose blue tunic and breeches.

She was holding a cup of tea. She had pressed another cup into the knight’s hand when she woke up here. It had been a shock finding herself suddenly out the obsidian dungeons of the Dark Lord’s tower and into this tall room of stone and straw. The warmth of it in her hands steadied her a bit.

“Everyone else in the party was worried, but then it started making copies of you,” the copy went on, staring up at the tentacled thing. “And all of the copies helped fight against the Dark Lord, and we won, and peace was restored across the land, but then nobody could figure out how to kill the damn thing or just to make it stop. Dozens of copies of us in a day, hundreds in a week, and then someone decided that the only thing we could do is just bring the thing here, seal it off and hope it starved to death.”

She sipped her tea. “Anyways, that was two-hundred years ago and it’s slowed down a bit. It can only make a new copy of us every few weeks now.”

The knight looked down into her tea. The copy had also draped a blanket over her shoulders.

“I have so many questions,” she said.

“I figured.”

“How can it be two-hundred years? I can still remember breaking into the tower. That feels like it was just minutes ago.”

“It was, basically. Your brain is a perfect copy of the original you’s brain at the exact moment she was eaten.”

“But the quest is just — done?”

“Yep. You missed some of the things that needed tying up afterward. There was a war, and a dragon, and some business about a ring.” She waved a hand. “It was before my time. Things are pretty settled now.”

“My parents?”

“Passed away about a hundred-and-fifty years ago. I’ve been told that they were very proud.”

The knight nodded. “Um. I don’t know if you know — we had an elf in our party—”

“I’m aware.”

“I — right. Obviously. Um. It’s just, after everything was done, I was going to ask her—”

“One of us did. She said yes. She outlived her. A couple of us have tried to reach out since then, but she wants to be left alone for a while.”

The knight considered this. “Uh — right,” she said eventually. Her fingers tightened around the tea cup. “Um. What do I do now?”

Her older copy shrugged. She had let her hair grow out again, the knight noticed. There were a few strands of grey against the black. “That’s up to you, I’m afraid,” she said. “A lot of us are finding work as soldiers and sellswords. We’ve done it for so long that most armies know we’re reliable and don’t tend to turn one of us away. Most of us are just sort of spreading out, wandering the world. Some of us keep in touch.”

The knight frowned. “What do you do?”

Her copy paused, tea cup half raised to her lips. “Sorry?”

“You said it only makes a new copy every few weeks now. So you just stay here and wait for a new one to show up?”

She lowered the cup. “Well,” she said. “I guess I just — I know what it can be like, waking up here in the dark, and it — it can be horrible trying to figure all of this out on your own.

“So I thought that what I’d do is just stay here with a pot of tea, and whenever I see myself again, I tell her that — that she’s not alone.”

“We aren’t?”

“Of course not. We’re all in this together, you know.”

[iheartcake123]

sylus x f!reader

when you get into an argument

a/n: i wasn’t too sure about this fic when writing it but when i did the vote thingy this is the one most people voted for so i hope you all like it🤭 requests are open by the way so feel free to request if you want something !!

Masterlist

the corridors of sylus’ house were eerily quiet. it was the kind of silence that filled the air with tension like a calm before a storm. youd been putting every best effort into ignoring it, trying to keep your head down as you filled in data sheets and the constant reports.

to be fair you were doing absolutely anything to keep your mind busy so that you wouldn’t think of him.

you’d also been trying your best to avoid sylus, but you knew, it was impossible to avoid him forever.

you heard his footsteps before you saw him-heavy, purposeful, and growing closer. his voice echoed in the hallway, he had called your name at least twice. however, you pretended to not have heard. maybe, just maybe he’d give up and stop looking for you. you could only hope.

but, sylus wasn’t the type to give up. especially, not when it came to you.

the door to the room you occupied slid open without a sound, and there he was, standing in the doorway. the familiar glow of his eyes was sharper than you remembered, his jaw tight, and his posture rigid.

“why are you avoiding me?” his voice was low, but there was an undeniable bite to it.

you froze.

as much as you suspected this would happen since sylus always noticed the shifts in your mood and behaviour - you weren’t prepared for it.

the tension in the room now was undeniable.

“i’m not avoiding you,” you said, eyes falling from his figure to the papers in front you.

he didn’t buy it. he watched as you tried to avoid his gaze by turning your head away from. a silence stretched across the room and you heard his footsteps get even closer. soon enough, he was standing over you.

as you tried to turn the paper in front of you over, his hand covered it thus stopping you from doing so.

you didn’t dare look up at him.

“you’ve been avoiding me for days. skipping meals, not answering phone calls and not responding to my messages. I haven’t heard from you in over twenty-four hours, kitten”

you kept your gaze fixated away from him, it was as if his eyes were burning into you.

“i’ve just been busy. you know how it is” you finally looked up at him and said with your voice cracking slightly at the edges.

“busy,hm” sylus repeated, his voice edging toward frustration now. “busy?” he removed his hand from your papers and stood with his arms crossed.

“is that what you’re going with? you can’t be that busy. you’ve always made time for me” his eyebrow was raised and there was a hint of vulnerability in his voice.

he wasn’t angry. at least, not fully. he was hurt. hurt and confused, and it made something inside you twist.

but you couldn’t let yourself think about it.

“i told you,” you said, this time louder and more defensive, “i’ve been busy. i’ve had things to do, that didn’t involve you”

the sharpness of your tone made him pause, but only for a moment. “you’ve had things to do, or you’ve been avoiding me? i need you to be honest with me y/n” his words were almost pleading now, and you felt the tightness in your chest only increase.

“i am being honest,” you said, standing up abruptly.

you couldn’t sit there anymore, under his gaze. you couldn’t let him look at you like that, as if your silence was some sort of betrayal.

you turned away, pacing across the room to grab your bag so that you could leave.

“you’re not understanding. this isn’t about you. it’s not about us, or anything like that. i just have things to do and i just need some space” your voice came out harsh as you picked your bag up.

sylus now took a step toward you, his eyes burning with frustration. his arm extended out and grabbed your bag from you. not a forceful grab but a grab strong enough that your bag was now in his hands. he held the bag behind his back.

“what the hell does that even mean? you think i’m not giving you space? you think I’m pressuring you somehow? you pulled away from me, and now you won’t even talk to me. you’re shutting me out and i want to know why” sylus’ voice became louder but it kept the same firmness that it always had.

you took a sharp breath, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. you then tried to reach behind his back to grab your bag but sylus swiftly moved so that you couldn’t reach it.

“give me my bag!” you let out a huff.

“not until you tell me the reason you’re ignoring and avoiding me” he wasn’t wavering and each time you attempted to grab your bag he kept it hidden from you.

“tell me y/n” he dropped his voice lower this time and you groaned.

you were frustrated. god, why was it so hard to say it? why was it so hard to admit to him the thing that had been suffocating you for days now?

“i can’t keep doing this, sylus” you finally said, your voice raw and trembling.

your arms dropped to your sides in defeat and you couldn’t look at sylus as you spoke “i can’t keep getting closer to you, and then one day... losing you. i can’t keep pretending i’m okay when every mission you go on, every time you leave. i’m terrified that something will happen to you. and that i won’t be able to do anything about it. i just—i don’t know how to handle it”

for a moment, there was silence. the kind of heavy, aching silence that felt like it could swallow you whole.

you swallowed hard, your chest tightening with the weight of everything you had said, now that it was out, you couldn’t take it back.

“you’ve been shutting me out because you’re afraid of losing me” sylus said softly, his voice a lot quieter now. he dropped your bag down on the floor.

“you think that if you keep your distance, it won’t hurt so much when something happens, right?” his voice held no anger or frustration, rather, it held understanding.

you nodded, your throat constricting, but you didn’t speak.

how could you?

how could you admit how terrified you were?

sylus took another step toward you, this time much slower, his presence gentle “i’m not going anywhere,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “i know all the risks. i’ve faced them every day. i don’t want you to push me away, to shut me out, because you’re afraid of what might happen”

there was a long pause and then he continued “i won’t let you carry that weight alone. you can always talk to me about how you feel”

you felt your shoulders tremble as you took in the words, there was a quiet comfort in his voice. you wanted to believe him. but the fear was still there, lurking just below the surface.

“i can’t lose you sylus” you whispered, your voice breaking.

“and you won’t,” he said firmly. “i’m here with you and and i’m not going anywhere”

“i don’t know how to stop being afraid,” you confessed, the tears threatening to spill from your eyes “but i do know that i don’t want to lose you”

sylus’ hand reached out, to gently cup your face. he wiped away the tears that were now falling.

“you don’t have to stop being afraid, but you don’t have to face it all alone. not while i’m here. let me be the one you lean on” his thumb caressed your cheek.

“let me be the one that helps you carry the burdens” he leaned forward and pressed his lips onto your forehead “and promise me that you won’t push me away again”

“i promise” your voice came out in a soft, whisper as you leaned against him.

instinctively sylus wrapped his arms around you and held you close. he had a firm but not strong grip on you, almost like he didn’t want to let you go.

“good, because you’re not getting rid of me that easily kitten” he let out a light chuckle and you felt the vibrations as you leaned against his chest.

you couldn’t help the small smile that escaped you as you started to feel more at ease.

knowing that you didn’t have to handle things all alone anymore.

[l0singsdogs]

I’ve had this wild headcanon circling in my head for a few days now. Just something quick before I head to bed: civilians working at the Watchtower.

Not just one or two, but a small team—maybe under a hundred people—hired to handle the kinds of jobs superheroes don’t always have the time, training, or bandwidth for. Doctors, nurses, administrative staff, financial analysts, tech support, even custodians and social media managers. And here’s the catch: not a single one of them ever reveals the heroes’ identities.

Why do they stay? Because the job is good. The environment is excellent. The pay? Amazing. Benefits? Better than anything you'd get working a normal nine-to-five on Earth. Sure, the occasional intergalactic invasion or magical mishap might make for a stressful Tuesday, but in general, it’s a surprisingly stable, fulfilling job.

Need help in the medbay? There’s a small, dedicated medical team. Parental leave for anyone? HR’s already got the paperwork ready. A hero injured on a League mission? Don’t worry—the League covers the medical expenses and provides recovery support.

I like to think Batman used to manage all of this himself. For a while, he tried to juggle it—because of course he did—but no matter how much people think he's superhuman, he's still one man with a full-time company to run. Eventually, he started recruiting a reliable team. People handpicked, vetted, and trusted. Civilians who could handle the loose ends most heroes wouldn’t even think about—basic logistics, liability, disaster response, benefits.

And it’s not just medicine. Sure, they’ve got alien tech that can heal broken bones in a flash, but they still need people. Nurses, therapists, surgeons. Heroes with those skill sets exist, but they have lives outside of those roles. They can’t do everything.

And then there’s social media. Bruce Wayne knows better than anyone how important public image is these days. The League needs PR experts—someone to coordinate interviews, run official Instagram accounts, post educational content on what to do if you find a magical artifact on your morning jog, or what civilians should avoid after a city-leveling alien fight. Maybe Superman and Wonder Woman are featured in the press, doing goodwill interviews. Batman? He stays behind the curtain, but someone still needs to manage his presence.

Every four weeks, someone’s getting brainwashed. Someone’s getting cloned. Someone’s going rogue. There needs to be a team that can step in, clean up, and carry on. People who understand that their work matters, even if it’s behind the scenes.

That’s why the Watchtower needs civilians. Trained, committed people doing honest, often thankless work. Heroes are heroes, sure—but they’re also people. They need lives, rest, and support. And sometimes, the best way to keep the world safe is by letting someone else carry part of the weight.

[harstyle]

Fourteen Years

Summary: They became fast best friends at ten years old - fourteen years later, not much has changed. Now they're twenty four, spending a few weeks together in her Berlin apartment as he takes a well earned break from work. He's a world famous singer, she has an office job she hates. Their paths couldn‘t be more misaligned - but that's what makes them work. Everything falls into place when they're together, a quiet routine building in the shadows, easy and organic. They move around each other like life is the simplest thing in the world.

But what happens when a drunken conversation on a balcony threatens the livelihood of their friendship forever?

What happens when all bets are off and they're forced to be honest with each other?

Word-count: around 4k

Warnings: nothing really, mentions of alcohol, swearing

A/N: Hey there, it's been months! I haven't really written much except from this little thing because I’ve had a lot going on. I'm not a huge fan of this tbh, but something about it feels comforting, so I thought I'd post it. Get ready for the cheesiness of it all and hope you're having a good day!

By the way he calls her Tinkerbell in this lol (don’t ask).

Also, there‘s weird time jumps because I wanted to try out something new, but it basically just switches between the night the conversation went down (italics) and the morning after and her thoughts on the night (normal). Hope it‘s not too confusing!

—

“Because you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever known, Tink.”

That’s what he said last night. He was drunk, even though he insisted repeatedly he wasn’t, but she smelt the alcohol on his breath, a mix of beer and mint that was harmonious enough to smell good. His pupils were dilated, cheeks a shade of red they only are when he’s downright gone but trying to act like he isn’t.

She knows him like the back of her hand. Fourteen years together, every step of their lives since childhood. Elementary, secondary, early adulthood to now— all of it, she’s known him better than anyone. She’s seen all of his phases, however successful or downright devastating— she’s gotten to know all the cousins, all the girlfriends, all the enemies. They’re the it couple, the loves of each other‘s lives. In the most platonic way imaginable.

Last night he wasn‘t like himself. He spent most of the night keeping to himself despite the rare company of their friends, chucking drink after drink like alcohol isn’t the gateway drug it‘s known to be— so unlike the man who always paces himself so as to preserve his health. And then he spoke to her. And at first, it went like always.

“Tinkerbell!”

“What?” She breathes softly, turning to face him whilst pressing her back against the railing. She’s biting the inside of her cheek, having just thought of him as she looked over the scenery from her balcony thinking how nice it’d be for him to be by her side. “You okay, there, cowboy?”

“Never been better, Tink.”

And she remembers, even now, the smile that tugged at her face when she realized he was different. Because it wasn’t a bad different; it wasn’t like he became cold, or dismissive, or mean— no, he just seemed happy. Too happy, like there was nothing in the world that warranted enough importance to be worried about. A version of him she’s never fully gotten to know, but has seen snippets of. And it isn’t like he’s not a happy person— he is; never too worried, never too scared. But this was a different kind of happy.

He seemed lighter. Like the years of experience and maturity had washed away momentarily, leaving her with the eighteen year old Harry she once knew standing in front of her.

“Oh is that why you can’t walk straight?”

He shushes her, coming to lean his front against the railing. She inches closer to him, head falling comfortably against his shoulder. Then she says softly, “we haven’t spoken much today.”

“Yeah, we haven’t.”

She prompts her chin on his shoulder, staring hesitantly at the side of his face. There’s barely any lighting and she can barely make out the shapes, but it’s enough. She watches as his lashes flutter softly, as his facial muscles tighten a little. “And why is that?”

He looks ahead, breathing in and out gently, like he’s deep in thought.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, Tink.”

“Okay,” she nods subtly. “Well if you want to talk about it…”

“…you’re here.” He finishes for her.

“Like I always am,” she emphasizes, the extra squeeze to his arm substituting for a thousand words she could be saying instead. But she doesn’t really need to. Never has.

Now she’s waiting. In the kitchen, back in the living room. Then in the kitchen again. She’s pacing, thinking, worrying about what Harry will say when he’s up. If he even remembers what he said, if he meant it the way she thinks he must have.

She never had to worry about losing him. Because she always knew, even at 12 years old, that risking it would mean losing it forever. It being the friendship; the bond with the kindest, most precious boy she had ever laid eyes on. So even though throughout the years sparks of feelings have crept up instantaneously, she’s never pursued that dream.

But it would be sucha dream, wouldn’t it? To be loved by the boy she grew up loving. To be loved by the boy who knows how to appreciate her without having to be taught. To be loved by the boy who always puts her first, treats her best, makes her feel whole.

It hurts sometimes to think she might never find someone like him again. It’s psychotic, really, the fact that she’s so frightened of losing him that she’s deprived herself of the best man on earth. Just so she can keep him a little longer. Even if it means walking down the aisle to him and not being the one wearing white.

For a lingering moment, all there is between them is silence. Dead silence, just the rhythm of Harry’s heartbeat exposed underneath her fingertips.

He breathes in deeply, almost as though preparing himself to say something earth shattering. But then he doesn’t. His fingers twitch, she sees it.

“What is it, H?”

He looks at her, eyes filled with something indescribable. But she speaks his language, so even though he doesn’t say it, she knows what he means to convey. Thankfulness. Gratitude. And she feels it too, any time she’s sad or conflicted, any time she’s in a place she doesn’t want to be in— a glance of his eyes and there it is. All the words. Never spoken out loud, but crafted together perfectly in the space between their bodies.  She always wonders how. She knows he’s wondering it right now too.

But it changes something in his face. It pushed him over the edge, the look of determination solidifying into something more serious.

“You get me, Tink.”

“I do,” she says lowly, making sure to tilt her lips into a smile. “And you, H, get me.”

“That’s crazy, isn’t it? How rare must a connection like ours be?”

“Pretty rare, probably,” she replies with an easy chuckle, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly.

“Yeah, probably. I don’t even think it and you know. Y’know before I do, every time.”

Her breathing changes with his. It’s sporadic, slower, almost like otherwise she would be risking a solid ground to stand on. “Yeah, I… I guess so, H. Are you okay?”

“I’m always good when I’m with you. Which is—“ he laughs, almost like at himself, “which is kind of the point, you know. I—“ he looks away, running a shaky hand through his disheveled hair, “I’ve been thinking about how weird it is that we’re… I mean, I’ve never felt that way about…” he pauses again, taking a short leveled breath. “About anyone, really. Anyone but you.”

Her eyebrows pinch, pulling together to crease the center of her forehead.

She doesn’t know what to say. Maybe she shouldn’t say anything. Maybe then he’ll realize he shouldn’t be doing this right now, that he’s entering dangerous territory.

“And I saw you with… with that guy. Tim, you said?”

He nudges her when she remains quiet.

She clears her throat,”Tom, actually.”

He huffs a breath, “right, Tom. I see him, you know? I see what he could be, but it really doesn’t matter that he’s a good guy. It doesn’t matter that he picks up the bill, doesn’t matter that he opens your fucking door. I can’t shake this feeling that he could never be good enough. Because nobody is— not for you. Not even if he kisses the ground you walk on.”

And finally, it’s like she understands a little better what he’s trying to say. She snickers quietly to herself, but lenient worry spreads throughout her chest regardless. “well, that’s a little silly.”

“Is it?”

“If nobody’s gonna be good enough then might as well pick the next one in line, right?”

A pause. Then a cough. “Yeah, right,” he nods, but it looks and feels as though there’s something more to it.

Gently, she brushes a lone finger over his cold wrist. “Harry, what’s happening right now? I’m confused.”

He shakes his head, taking a breath to brace himself. “Is he the next in line?”

For some reason, her heart beats faster.  “What?”

And when he looks into her eyes again, they’re red. “Tom. Is he the next in line? The next best guy?”

For the first time, she allows her gaze to linger, to glide over his nose down to his mouth, then back up again. She swallows, the options of what to say made available to her in her head, yet both too risky to choose from. But she has to say something. “No, he’s not. You’re the best guy, you know that. But it’s different with you, with us.”

And he nods his head, taking in the answer with special consideration.

After a long pause, he takes a deep breath. “Would I be good enough?”

“Would you be good enough for what, H?”

“For you.”

And it was truly instinctual, her laugh. It was racked with nervousness, a sense of unease because she was left thoroughly confused. Looking back, it was probably demeaning of her to laugh— but then again, she still has no idea what happened last night. Where it came from.

She can picture it in her head now, the nervous look on his face as he asked her the question and probably the only time she’d ever recognized anything resembling insecurity in his voice. She’s pacing, a feeling of disgust overriding her stomach at the thought. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him, to undermine him. But she didn’t know.

“Why are you laughing?”

She detaches herself from him, dismissal evident in her every step. Maybe it’s the kind of dismissal that needs to be expressed so that nothing moves and everything is left untouched— enough for him to just drop it. Because she’s terrified of it all falling apart. The first domino tile has been flicked; now it‘s only a matter of when will the rest fall in line? “Because you’re being ridiculous, Harry. Stop doing that, you’re freaking me out.”

But it’s not enough. He follows after her, struggling to walk a straight line.  “What’s ridiculous about me asking you a serious question?”

“I just— you know you’re good enough!”

“Do I?”

She glances at him shortly before continuing in stride. “Oh come on! Stop acting so oblivious and innocent.”

“What does that even mean, Y/N?”

“I can’t talk about this right now. Not when you’re this drunk.”

“I’m not drunk!”

“Yeah and the fucking pope isn’t catholic.”

He scoffs aloud. “Tinkerbell!”

“What?” She swivels around, her arms coming to hug around her middle. She looks at him as though repulsed, because frankly, she is. Things were fine before he had to go and get himself drunk and spurt things he couldn’t possibly mean.

He pauses, an expression of defeat on his worry-ridden face as he inches closer. And when he speaks again, it’s timid, not like anything she’s ever known him to be.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Tink.”

“What are you even talking about, Harry?”

“I don’t want to be the guy you regret, or hate, or hurt over. When we’re old, I want to be the guy you look back on with affection. And I— I didn’t really care about anything when we were younger, but I always cared about that. About you.”

He‘s terrified, she can hear it. With every breath he takes, every word he sounds out, there‘s an undertone of hesitation that keeps poking through the surface. It‘s like he‘s fighting with himself.

“Harry,” she warns, because this is all becoming too intense.

And that’s when he said it. Because you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever known, Tink. He said it with sincerity dripping from his words, a type of vulnerable that neither of them had ever demanded from one another. Who could’ve thought that he would ever reserve those words for her. Not for the women he’s dated, not for the woman he’ll marry. For her.

He must be kidding her.

“I can’t do this right now. I’m sorry.”

She walked away then, slamming the door behind her with considerable force. She was ready to leave this behind. Ready to sleep and wake up renewed, indifferent to last night’s shenanigans.

But she couldn’t sleep. She left bed at seven this morning and now she’s just sitting at the counter waiting for the air to shift. She wants the reassurance that things will continue to be the same.  

But deep down, she knows things can never again be the same, not even if they move past it graciously. It‘ll always live on in their subconscious, gnawing away at their minds until either of them caves and decides it isn‘t worth the hassle. Because it doesn‘t matter how much she wishes she could deny it; there‘s always been something there. And that something has gotten bigger and bigger, becoming too enormous to stay invisible to the human eye.

The clearing of his throat snaps her out of a trance. He’s standing in the doorway, sweatpants hanging low from his hips, shirtless. His arms are hugging loosely around his frame and something about about it causes her stomach to stir. Last night, of course, but also just him. Seeing him on a bright summer morning in all his glory, just how he is. There‘s a sense of domesticity that she supposes became normalized in their friendship but is now itching for a different kind of attention.  

She wonders how long he‘s been standing there.

“Hey,” she offers a warm smile, the relief at the sight of him enough to ease some of the tension in her body. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good. It’s just now that I’ve got a bit of a headache.”

“Oh! I actually thought you might so I— wait,” she rounds the island to her purse and fishes around for the pills, “I bought a new pack of advil yesterday—“

But the distraction doesn‘t work on him.

“Tink, I meant it.”

It’s abrupt. Even in his delivery, she can tell he’s been keeping it in, been aching to say it.

She freezes however, turning in her spot with a squint in her eye, “what?”

He releases a deep sigh. “I meant it. What I said about you last night. I know you’re hoping we can move past it but it’s been on my mind for a long time.”

“Oh,” she replies quietly, dumbfounded, “I’m sorry about how I reacted—“

“It’s fine, you don’t have to apologize. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it that way. Usually I’m good at keeping these things to myself but there was something about last night that— it just fucked with me. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You should always tell me when something’s bothering you, I’m sorry I’ve made you feel like you have to keep things to yourself.”

He laughs. It’s subtle and soft, but it’s there, barely a release of breath. He pushes away from the doorway, coming to stand by the island next to her. “You don’t mean that, Tink.”

“Yes I do.”

“You didn’t even want to hear it last night.”

“I was just confused.”

He shakes his head. “And if I told you all of that now? Would you react any differently? Because however much you might hate it, I wouldn’t take anything back.”

“I don’t hate it.”

“But you’re confused.”

“I mean— out of fucking nowhere, you drop this bomb on me and it’s… fourteen years, Harry. That’s how long we’ve been friends.”

“Do you mean to tell me that you’ve never thought about it? Because if you can look me in the eyes and tell me that, I’ll drop it right this moment.”

And she can feel herself becoming increasingly more frustrated because she can’t really tell what exactly he’s trying to say. Communication has always been their strong suit, but this… whatever this has come to, it’s not like anything she’s ever experienced with him before. It‘s messy, slopey, unchartered territory. “Thought about what, Harry? I’m so lost right now and I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I want you to be honest!” He exclaims wildly, running a hand through his hair whilst gesturing with the other. “There’s been so many times, Tink. The dance, prom, our graduation, fucking last week where there’s been this— this switch. And I feel like something is going to happen but you’re— it’s like you don’t want it to. So be honest with me.”

“Well I just— that’s not fair!”

“How is it not fair?”

“Because you always seemed too fucking good for me, Harry!” She cries out. “Everyone would say it, literally everyone— those fucking girls at school, people at home, the media. I mean, how could I ever think you would settle for someone like me?”

“Someone like what, Tink? Someone who loves unconditionally? Someone who has always put the happiness of others before her own? Someone who is so damn perfect and selfless and kind that I couldn’t imagine anyone being good enough for her? Someone like that, you mean?”

She shakes her head, the words describing her thoughts heavy on her tongue but too vulgar to be spoken aloud. How could she ever be honest with him if honesty means admitting to every feeling of insecurity she has ever harbored at the prospect of her best friend? How could she ever be honest with him when honesty means making him realize she’s not nearly as perfect, selfless or kind as he believes? “Nobody has ever loved me. I don’t think it takes a degree to figure out why, Harry.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh, it isn’t?”

“Look around, will you? If nobody loves you why are all of these pictures of our friends hung up on the walls?”

A chuckle escapes past her lips, “man, you really don’t get it, do you?”

“What?”

“That’s not the kind of love I’m talking about.”

He scoffs, shaking his head to regain an inkling of composure and rid himself of annoyance - not of her, but her tendency to make herself the villain in every story, “you can’t possibly be blaming yourself for all of those failed relationships right now. Half of them fucking cheated on you.”

“Yeah, why? if I’m so perfect and lovable why would—”

“God, would you ever blame me if someone cheated on me? Why are you always treating yourself the way you would never treat anyone else, huh? Why are you always so harsh on yourself?”

“You’re perfect, Harry. I mean, perfect career, perfect family— there’s nothing wrong with you. You can’t possibly compare that to me, can you? I’m a fucking mess. I haven’t found my passion—“

He rolls his eyes. “We’re twenty four, for god’s sake—“

But she continues. “And I’m emotional. I get annoying and clingy, my family fucking hates every guy I’ve ever brought home— and even worse, they hate me. So I’m sorry if I’m a little pessimistic when it comes to relationships, but I can’t fucking afford to be all rainbows and sunshine about it.”

“I get it, Tink, I do—“

But she’s had enough of misunderstandings, enough of him pretending like it’s that easy to let go and trust. “No you don’t! And you don’t get to walk in and say all those nice things about me wasted off of your mind pretending like all along it’s you who’s been yearning! Ever since we were kids, Harry, it’s always fucking been you! All of it, everything. I was crushed when I met your first girlfriend, you know that? Fucking crushed!”

There’s fury in his eyes, a fire that keeps getting bigger and bigger, burning at the sight.  “Why didn’t you fucking tell me then?”

“What did you expect me to do? You had never even looked at me twice!”

“You must know nothing about me if you really believe that.”

And it gets to a point where all she sees is red. He’s blurry in her line of vision, spewing words she can’t possibly digest in this moment.

She begins to walk away from him, cursing to herself like he can’t hear her. But he can, and he follows her every step.

“Is this how it’s going to go from now on? You’re going to walk away and pretend like nothing happened?”

“I don’t know what you want me to do.”

Frustration anchors at his every word and she can tell, even though she’s only able to hear his speech, that his eyebrows are pinched deeply, his forehead creased with intensity. She knows that he’s hurting to some capacity, that his heart is going wild in his chest.

He wraps his fingers around her wrist, tugging her back into his front. “Tink, just fucking look at me.”

Their chests collide, hearts equally beating faster for one another.

She stares into his eyes, waiting for something to be said, anything. But as seconds pass, and words still remain unspoken, her shoulders start to lose their tension and her heart plummets to the pit of her stomach.

He’s dangerous because she could never stay mad at him. She could never hate him, no matter how badly she wishes she could.

She clears her throat, but fails to move. She doesn’t find herself wanting to. “Harry.”

His eyes trail southward toward her mouth and she wishes so badly he would just kiss it. “Does it really matter what happened back when we were kids? Does anything other than what I said matter at all?”

She swallows around a lump in her throat, staring into the green of his eyes that have always had the power of swaying her in every which way. And as he’s doing the same to hers, the air shifts in a more familiar direction.

“I’m scared.”

He nods, “I know.” Interlacing their fingers with one hand, he allows the other to rest comfortably against her neck.

But she can no longer look at him, not when he’s so close, expecting her to open up to her like a flower in spring. “I can’t lose you, I wouldn’t forgive myself if I messed this up. I’ve wanted it for so long, but I’m bad at being more than a friend. I’m bad at saying what I truly feel, I’m bad at being the girl guys want to bring home to their parents. I’m bad at time management. I’m bad at being vulnerable . You know all this about me, but it was always different before. With you it was easier. But if this were to happen… you’d get to know my ugly sides.”

His eyes are glassy, as are hers. From the outside they probably look like a mourning couple, one at the brink of heartbreak. And in a way, this feels similar to every heartbreak she’s been through, only this time the risk of loss is much greater. And so is the sense of hope.

“Y/N, when I asked you last night about Tom,” he nudges a finger underneath her chin, coaxing her to look at him, “I asked because for fourteen years, I’ve always felt like I wasn’t enough for you. At first I thought you would never be into me. You were too smart, too confident. It’s ridiculous, I know, but we were teenagers,” he smiles at the memory. “But then I joined the band and I didn’t want to expose you to a world I hadn’t fully understood myself. I didn’t want you to have to deal with all of that, so I tried to protect you. I hid you from the cameras, lied to people when they asked me about you. Clearly I didn’t do it very well because you just told me it still got to you—“

“That’s not-“

He squeezes her fingers, a silent appreciation of her reassurance, “but I tried my best, you know? I’ve always kept my distance because I didn’t want this — everything I do and everything I am — to become a burden to you. Because I’ve always loved you. I’ve always wanted to make you happy, to be the best guy for you. There were times I didn’t know it, sure, but deep down I’ve always known it’d be you, Tink. These last few years I just wasn’t sure I was enough. Because you deserve the best a person could get.”  

“Of course you’re enough, H.”

“I still think you deserve better than me, baby, so much better. But if you give me a chance, I promise I’ll try my best. I love you as you are; whatever you call your ugly side, that doesn’t exist to me. You’re you, Tink, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m done cowering away because I’m scared of fucking up and I’m begging you to do the same. Let go with me and explore this. Please.”  

She supposes this feeling in her chest is so indescribable because she’s never felt it so intensely before, but it resembles sheer and raw admiration. There’s a hint of fear brewing in the deep abyss, but hope surfaces at the top. And as she looks into the eyes of the love of her life, she sees safety. Love. A Future. Together.

Her face inches closer, “I’m so terrified of losing you.”

He nudges his nose against hers. “Won’t let it happen, I promise. You’re never getting rid of me.”

A smile breaks out on her face.

“Then kiss me, H.”

And so he does.

—

That‘s a wrap! Hope you liked it :)

[navydoves]

Blood Bag - Chapter 3

"I'm not a monster."

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✎ᝰ summary. you’re a vampire, you need blood. sylus is the most powerful man on this side of the planet. he has what you need.

✎ᝰ cw. you’re a vampire/sylus is a human, yearning sylus, depressed sylus, lonely sylus, luke and kieran are side characters, not unrequited but maybe a little, ANGSTY, erotica, lots of pining here bro, sylus is super pathetic now

✎ᝰ wc. 8.4k ✎ᝰ. a/n. this is my favourite chapter so far, ong there should be only 1-2 left. i didn't realize just how much i yap bro. anyway this one is a lot more angsty than the previous two (imo) but also a lot more erotic. not proofread, will fix as time goes on. hope yall don't hate me for these long ass breaks in between lmfao... enjoy!

luke and kieran, as young and average looking as they seemed, were professional fighters with heavy training under their belt. they knew what it took to be in hand-to-hand combat even without fancy powers to help them.

of course, these skills were the result of their years of training; only taught to them by the best of the best. the frontlines were not their designated position under sylus's care, but they were more than prepared for anything that came their way.

ghouls? goblins? A-tier criminals? all trained to handle them effectively. even with the latest vampire outbreak, sylus had ensured that if anything, the twins should be equipped with the basic defensive skills when dealing with a vampire.

so, what happens when the man who taught them everything they knew about strength, power, and being able to fight... doesn't do just that?

well, luke and kieran were faced with this problem head-on.

"b-boss?" luke whimpers so softly that in normal situations, his voice wouldn't be able to be heard. thankfully, the dead silence between all four persons in the room really helped emphasize the mix of fear, shock, and uncertainty in the him.

kieran was much the same. except he couldn't find his voice and his tense stance and wide eyes did all of talking.

sylus looked between the twins with an unsettling gaze. much like them and much like you, he was staggered in position—cradling you against his body. just for a moment does he glance down at you, his piercing glowing red eyes meeting your scandalized gaze.

everyone takes their moments.

sylus squeezes his eyes shut and tightens his grip on you before wetting his lips and— "OUT!" sylus's booming voice startles everyone in the room, especially you who is closest to him. the twins jolt back and in contrast to how long they stood there, they quickly scramble over each other out the bedroom door and down the hall.

their bedrooms weren't far down, and without thinking, both of them rushed into the closest one which happened to be kieran's. with the door slammed behind them, they take off their masks and catch their breath by the wall. time did move so slow for them, because it felt like hours before they even looked at each other.

to neither of their surprise, the other one was crying. slightly flushed cheeks and wet eyes, the twins had the same look of confusion and worry. "k-kieran," luke chokes out. "i don't know," kieran responds. luke wets his lips and wipes away rouge tears with the back of his hand. "m-maybe this is all part of his plan? maybe he was u-upset because we... i don't know... sabota-" "what kind of fucking plan is this?" kieran interjects with a much hasher tone of voice than luke carried. "you can't tell me boss had no other way of getting information from her than by... letting her bite him? god, and even if that was the case... the way he was holding her, the kisses, the..." kieran retches in his mouth. "i don't like this, i don't like this one-bit luke." luke sniffles. "then, what are we gonna do? talk to him? kieran raises his gaze to the ceiling and rubs his lips together. "there's nothing else to do. you know that better than me, luke." the twins left themselves in an awkward and tense quiet, a complete contrast to what was happening down the hall.

“fuck, fuck!”

“sylus, calm down.”

“how am i… they weren’t supposed to see that!”

you were sat at the edge of the bed watching sylus pace back and forth with his hand over his mouth in stress. the moment had been embarrassing for all parties, sure, but you had no emotional connections to the twins, making this whole ordeal a little better for you to deal with. as opposed to the man in front of you, that is.

“what’s the issue? they saw us, okay, and? then what?” you huff.

sylus stops his pacing and grits his teeth at you. “you don’t understand, they’re… they’re like my sons. it’s… it’s not easy to just let them see me like that…”

“like what?”

sylus hesitates. “vulnerable.”

you shake your head in slight annoyance but let the tension go in the next exhale. “you’ve been vulnerable this whole time, why are you just now getting uncomfortable?”

“what?”

you exhale again. “since the moment i’ve stepped foot in here… no… since the bar, you’ve been nothing but a wreck, a mess. and that’s just what i’ve seen of you. i can’t imagine how long this misery of yours has lasted. if those two are ‘like your sons’ then they’ve definitely picked up on it. yet you’re upset now?”

sylus furrows his brows and stares daggers into you. his lips twitch as if there was a rebuttal or two just waiting to bite back at you. “what do you know about me?”

you look around at his bedroom condescendingly. “clearly enough to invade your home and clearly enough to make you upset. your anger is misplaced with me. just try to calm down." you scoot off from the bed and walk over to sylus to guide him back to where he was previously sitting. he might've dragged his feet there, but he eventually sat down on the edge of the bed again, body slumped over as if he were mourning. "sylus," you whisper. "whatever it is you're about to say i don't want to hear it. you have no place to console me. we're not equals. you're my hostage, my prisoner here. don't... don't speak to me with such familiarity." "i'm not trying to. honestly... i just want more blood. we were interrupted after all." sylus lifts his head and turns to you with squinted, disbelieving eyes. your audacity never left you, it seemed. even when the man who was your lifeline was in shambles, you still had it in you to be selfish. but if sylus said that your drinking and sucking weren't pleasurable to him as well, he would be lying. it was a mix of your familiar warmth, your gripping hands, your gently sinking teeth, your soft, needy noises that was capable of finishing him. and even after every drinking session, when that fatigue creeped in from blood loss and pain, he was still okay with more.

maybe that was what he was feeling right now. fatigue. and maybe it wasn't just from your drinking, but from the weight of his life.

"why... why am i keeping you alive again? please remind me," sylus murmurs with slight dejection. you think on it for a moment. "i can take a guess as to why, but i don't think you'd like the answer. but i can no longer be your prisoner, your hostage, if im dead."

sylus wets his lips and shakes his head slightly, almost as if to erase your illogical argument from his head. it was only illogical because he couldn't understand why he wasn't leaving you for dead, prisoner or not. maybe what luke said was right. maybe he was treating you more like a guest than the vampire that tried to turn him. or i guess, knowing what he knows now, the vampire that tried to feed off of him. "sylus," you interrupt his foggy mind. "shut it." sylus shifts backward onto his bed and scoots until his back was against the pillowed headboard. he didn't say anything nor make a gesture, but his open form and slight melancholy told you that he was giving himself up to you once more. without much hesitation, you follow. climbing up on the bed and onto his lap. you move the cuffs of his collar away from his neck and admire the bloody bites you placed there earlier.

sylus's head was turned away from you slightly, like he was avoiding what was happening right before his eyes. unlike normal, where you would dive right in without thought, you stay still for a moment to look over sylus's expression. the usually hunter-like vermillion eyes had dulled into soft redwood.

what you would do to give him back the life he lived a predator. here now, he seemed like prey.

you lean into his neck and make sure to sink your teeth were where your previous bite was to avoid extra damage to his skin. that sweet, tangy blood you've come to love as dragon's blood hits your teeth right away and courses through your body.

immediately, the same sensations came back into you.

you felt your mind haze and it was accompanied by fluttering eyes. your hands found purchase on sylus's forearms where you gripped and squeezed him. your head buried itself deeper and deeper into the crevice of his neck as if there was more blood to be found there. but your worst habit were your noises.

sweet whimpers and moans escape your lips every second of your feast. it almost sounded like you were crying or... were doing other, more intimate things. but in all honestly, one could argue this was as intimate as it got. drinking blood for nothing but for the sake of your survival, given to you by a man who had everything to lose.

this was the pleasure sylus got from you.

he instinctively cupped the back of your head. and no matter how hard he tried to tell himself not to, it only felt natural to lean down and nuzzle you right back. he was a virgin to you; in all things affection and need. he was a virgin losing his scales every time you sat on his lap. he's experienced every type of pain and pride there was, but the experience of satisfaction and wholeness he got from you was brand new. this was a part of living he never truly knew, so why would he ever kill that by killing you?

your eager sounds and hefty grip made sylus groan softly. there was sweet, sweet pressure between your bodies, creating warmth that fueled both of you. it was still a mystery to him how human you seemed, even with your fangs inches deep into his neck.

"urgh... you're making a mess," sylus murmurs, noticing blood drops running down his neck.

he watches you quickly pull out from your bite and lick up the lines of blood from his neck. your eyes meet briefly, but you were too focused on drinking to truly notice how sylus stared down at you. he watched your tongue lap everything up, fast and with loud slurps.

the sight was enough to make him full body shudder, leaving him unprepared for your next bite. you were back at it, slurping and drinking as if you didn't get several pints worth in the last one.

another soft groan escapes sylus.

the pain wasn’t unbearable. it was in fact, completely bearable. barely anything to the injuries of sylus’s past. it was the overwhelming, affectionate feeling that was unbearable. leave it up to sylus to find a blood-sucking vermin like you, “affectionate.”

“‘m almost done,” you growl softly in-between sucks. sylus doesn't respond, he just lets you continue drinking with all the desperation you could muster. when your noises finally died down and the grip on his arms loosened, he knew you were done. he watches you pull back and lick the remnants of blood from your lips before wiping your mouth all-together.

sylus glances down at his neck - all cleaned and shiny from your saliva. he couldn't see the bites, but he could definitely feel it. a prolonging, insistent ache beat from his neck and all throughout his body. he felt a little lightheaded, a little sluggish and weak. and still, despite all the bites and sucks, he felt the furthest thing from dead. "i'm sorry," you mumble softly while glancing over sylus's slightly enfeebled body. "i... didn't mean to take so much. you just... taste really good." "bodies reproduce blood all the time. it's not like i won't get it back." you nod slightly, feeling a little awkward now that you've had your fill. "what are you going to do about... those boys?" sylus hesitates. he closes his eyes almost as if to forget the memory from earlier. "it'll figure itself out. they'll have to understand one way or another." you furrow your brows. "understand what?" you press sylus. "understand why you need to... keep me alive? what will you tell them?" "that i need to keep you alive to further investigate you, simple." sylus retorts, getting a little annoyed at your questions. "it won't be a big deal if we don't make it one." "what?" you scoff. "you know you aren't keeping me alive to investigate me further. so you're just gonna li-" "what do you know?!" sylus barks at you.

immediately you flinch back in surprise.

there's a moment between you two; one where you take a breath and recover from the sudden jolt of anxiety and one where sylus simmers in regret. "i..." he trails off. his expression softens and his eyes avoid your form. "so you're going to put me back into that cage? am i just living under your scrutiny? is my life still in danger? will my last days be in this fucking estate of yours?" "don't," sylus growls but then eases his tone. "don't... be so fucking hypocritical. you chose to break in here for your own selfish reasons. if you die in this house, then you chose your coffin. but i've given you more than enough blood to satiate you. you don't get to be angry." another moment. "can you just please be honest then?" you whisper, a new despondent tone lacing your voice. it doesn't go unnoticed by sylus. "if i die i'd rather it be in here, anyway. i don't have anywhere else to go, anyone else to see. i've spent the last who knows how many years just... getting by. i was fucking selfish but... if anyone knows about surviving, it's you." sylus brings his avoidant gaze back to you and stares into your dilated eyes. this was a new emotion. sadness. "what do you need me to be honest about?" he asks very softly. "why are you keeping me alive?" sylus shakes his head. "i don't know." "you do." "i don't," he repeats. "that's not a question i can answer for you. but you've made a great effort to get under my skin, get into my estate, terrorize me, take advantage of me, and use me. i hate you as much as i respect you and i haven't respected a nuisance like you in a while." he takes a deep breath, pausing to think about his next words. "if you want me to kill you, though, just say the word. i am also your lifeline as much as i am your murderer." the strange poeticism of sylus's words make your chest feel a little lighter. he felt much more... human this way. i mean - he was, unlike you. but up until now you saw him much differently - like he was a ferocious thing unable to be bested.

"i don't want to die..." sylus frowns slightly. not at your words but at your tone of voice, it was small... helpless even. "you'll stay alive then, but only here. only with me. i can't have you out in the n109 zone."

he sees your nod.

he sees himself lose more of his light.

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like a baby, you were put down to sleep.

but as a vampire, you didn't need sleep.

and you insisted that you didn't want to go to sleep.

but sylus didn't listen.

you were in some dark corner of the estate, purposefully hidden away from the cameras and any attention that may conglomerate in the house. and while your vampire biology enjoyed dark, quiet spaces, you yourself didn't like being put to the side and kept away like you were some sort of monster.

it was fine, you thought.

you could enjoy the peace in this little nook of the house without worry.

without being a part of what was happening between everyone else.

sylus was stood in front of his bedroom mirror once more, staring at the injuries imposed by you on his neck. he hesitated between covering up the bites due to shame and leaving them out for the next inevitable feeding you would have. he traced the outline of the red marks on his skin - intimately in the shape of your fangs.

each thought of his played out like tides, coming and going with the intensity dependent on the wave. everything was foggy, and the clearer thoughts almost seemed to vanish before he could become too emotional about them.

there was no reason to be standing in front of the mirror like he was.

but he was anyway.

what was just as strong at the pain aching in his neck, though, was the yearning he felt underneath his skin. this wasn't a thought that would flounder away, it was an anguish that was apart of his body now. but it had nothing to do with the pain of his bites, and he couldn't just ignore it.

time almost became lost on him. who knew how long he was stood there, and who knew how long it would've been before he left, if it wasn't for a distraction. "boss."

sylus flinches slightly at the unexpected voice coming from behind him. he looks over in the mirror and sees the twins standing there, postures tense. "luke? kieran? when did you get in here?" "we've been standing here for a while, boss." "oh... i didn't notice." a pause. then luke steps forward.

"boss we need to talk, like seriously. we just... want to clear things up, okay?"

sylus furrows his brows and closes his eyes, a slight groan escapes him. "i... i know, but right now isn't the time." "then when can we?" kieran suddenly responds with a gruff voice. it was obvious he was more passionate than his brother. "you always go back on your word with these things, never wanting to tell or involve us in anything. we wanna know if you're being serious here, boss." "kieran, it's okay. let's just-"

"you know i have my reasons," luke gets interrupted by sylus, "i've always done my job of protecting you two, and this situation is nothing different. i know you're confused, but you just can't... there are things you wouldn't be able to understand." "like what?" kieran raises his voice. "like why you're letting that vampire girl feed off of you and why you're suddenly coddling her like she's some baby? you can't torture the girl but you can let her torture you?" "she's not," sylus bites back a retaliatory yell, "she's not torturing me. like i said kieran, there are things you wouldn't be able to understand. but i'm doing what i need to, okay? what's your issue here?" "the issue is that we... we worry for you, boss," luke chimes in softly, his voice a lot more timid than the two men around him. "we care for you and... well we've noticed you've been a little off lately. and then this whole vampire thing happened and... we... we just want our boss back..." luke's smaller voice eases the welling upset in sylus's chest, but still - there was lingering frustration about the situation he's ended up in. he didn't want to answer to anyone about anything. not to you about his intentions, not to the twins about his feelings.

suddenly the vulnerable, unaccepted dragon he once was reincarnated into his bones.

judge-y, judge-y, judge-y.

that's all everyone did, that's all everyone was.

judgmental.

can't lead a sovereignty without scrutiny and demands, can't find companionship without dismay and disapproval, couldn't be a dragon without ridicule and cut horns. everyone was always so against him, one way or another. no wonder he couldn't recognize himself, who was he if not the opinions of other people. "i... i am your boss," sylus whispers, tightening his grip on the counter. "i am your boss and i've always been your boss. whether or not you think i've changed doesn't matter. i'm hundreds of years old, dammit! i have the right to change if i want to." sylus looks up to the mirror at the twins again. they were a bit farther back, kieran in front of luke in an almost defensive position. it was a regretful sight. "boss..." kieran mumbles, "what have we done here to... even warrant this from you?" sylus sighs. he pushes himself off the counter and turns to face the twins. they both avoidant eye contact but sylus didn't. "nothing," he says, "you've done nothing. and that's how i want to keep it. you two are just boys, you've done nothing wrong except be led by a man like me... i didn't want to have this conversation now for this reason. i knew i'd say something i'd regret." sylus weakly points to the door. "im sorry... you two need to leave." the twins glance at one another before looking up at sylus. the dejection and resolution in his voice was unnerving as much as it was upsetting. they both could feel their throats become itchy and burn up with emotion as sylus's rejection hits them.

it wasn't worth it anymore, not now and not like this. luke was the first to turn and tug his brother out with him. the bedroom door closed softly behind them, leaving a both a literal and figurative wall between sylus and them.

they stood out in the hall for a moment to process the conversation just had. "he's not well. he is not well, luke." "fuck... i know." "it's that bastard vampire girl. i want to find her and just kill her. she's turned boss into a zombie." luke shakes his head gently then continues guiding his brother down the hall to their bedrooms. "no... i don't think it's that simple, kieran. boss has been like this for a while now, even before she arrived. all the days we wouldn't see him because he'd be cooped up at base or in his office. all the negotiations that ended up in killing sprees like he needed to let something out. he stopped spending as much time with us, he stopped... being himself a while ago." they reach their bedrooms, the crow masks come off immediately. "that vampire made things worse, sure, but... it always felt like he was headed down this path." kieran furrows his brows and wipes away a few rogue tears that spilled earlier. he licks his lips and hesitates on his words. "are you saying it's always been hopeless?" luke frowns at his brother's emotional voice. "no," he whispers, "i just don't think we're strong enough to deal with him. i don't think anyone is. this is... his life. his choices. what can we do?" kieran bites his lip gently and groans softly in frustration. he makes intense eye contact with luke and wipes the last of his tears. "we keep trying, we keep talking. we'll regret it if we don't do anything, so we have to... we have to try. for him. o-okay?" luke hesitates for a few moments before giving his brother a single firm nod.

"okay." ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ the n109 zone was never in anything but darkness, which made it perfect for a vampire to inhabit in - but still, without some sort of window or even artificial light, it was hard for you to tell what time of day it was.

it had been long, that's all you knew. long since sylus dragged you in here and asserted to you to not leave and to not make noises. you didn't really like being docile, but here you were, unmoving and silent.

at least there was a bed, you thought. a bed, a blanket, the darkness, and some silence. it reminded you of the crevices you hid in when you first arrived into the estate, and how stupidly you made the mistake of trying to get fresh air, leading you to get caught by those two with the crow masks.

you haven't heard many noises in your time in this room, only the faint creaking noises of the house. the estate was big enough that a party on the other side could barely be heard from where you were at - so when you finally did hear a noise, it startled you.

it was heavy footsteps from down the hall that became louder and louder with each passing second. it was a bit unnerving to say the least, but you were scared of few things in your life.

you stilled until the footsteps stopped right outside the bedroom door. it was tense for a few moments before the door swung open, letting in faint light from down the hall. your keen night vision scanned the area and could immediately recognize the form that was now entering the room. "sylus?" you whisper. he doesn't answer. the door closes on his way in and you instinctively sit up warily. as powerful as this man may be, he wasn't a threat to you - but his behavior was odd. you furrow your brows and repeat his name. "sylus." and finally, a response. "are you hungry?" you shift uncomfortably at the question. you weren't, but the thought of drinking from him again was enough to stir you. you swallow and close your eyes to refrain from just pouncing on him. "no... not really." "are you sure? you've been in here for two days, you're really not hungry?" two days? what? "i had a lot to drink last time, i've been quite satiated," you respond softly, the idea of being stuck in here for two days being unfathomable to you. "your blood is thick and course. i'm no longer hungry like i was when i arrived. i feel... normal."

it was quite strange to you how honest you were being here, but that look in sylus's eye made it hard for you not to be. the look of deep pitted exhaustion. you pitied him too much to lie right now.

"sylus," you say his name again after a short silence, "why have i been in here for two days?"

sylus shifts slightly to where he could hear your voice. he's been staring at darkness this whole time, just taking in your presence by listening to you. without your face, the familiarity sylus felt from your voice was stronger.

a voice he knew. a voice for him. "i didn't plan on it being this long, but i've been... distracted. my sense of time isn't great right now. im sorry it's been this long." you shake your head, sylus couldn't see it. "uh... no, it's fine... i suppose. is... is everything alright?" sylus doesn't answer your question and steps forward to where the sound of your voice was coming from. he stops when he bumps into the bedside table where the small lamp was. slowly, he reaches for it and turns it on to its dimmest setting. finally, you two make eye contact.

he sees you in the middle of the bed, sat rather politely and squinting from the light. and you see him, towering over the bed and face a bit sunken and eyes scrutinizing you. he's lost weight.

once your eyes adjust properly to the light, you look over him better. the scars on his neck were healing, but his healing process that would usually take a day was now taking longer - given that the last time you drank from him was over two days ago. he wore something fairly normal. low V-cut shirt and black pants. you can't help but think the shirt was intentional. "were you ridiculed by them?" sylus suddenly asks, crouching down to your level by the bed. "by whom?" you respond. seeing him at this level was flustering you a bit. "philosians. you're from there, yes? did they ever... hurt you? physically, mentally, emotionally, anything?" you shake your head and wet your lips. "no, they were... family, friends, neighbors, acquaintances. i never felt... ridiculed. why do you ask?" sylus furrows his brows together and looks down at his lap. this was a hard talk. "because they still do it," he murmurs. "you said it yourself, they still tell stories about me all these fucking years later. i can't escape them, one of them even broke into my house." you tense up at his words. "i'm... not like them. i'm part of the n109 zone now, it's been eons since i've been in philos. plus, i told you i never believed those stories anyway. i'm different in every way possible from the girl i was back in philos." sylus raises his head and meets your eyes with his dilated, angry ones. "but, you know. you said you never believed those stories, but you also said you somehow knew they were about me. how could you have known they were about me if you didn't think of me as the monster they say i am? the horrible things they've lied about, you had to believe them and figure it they were about me." you bite back your small whimper. it was bad enough he'd forgotten you, it was worse that he was accusing you. "sylus that's not-" "there's more you're not telling me but i... i don't know if i want to find out anymore."

the anger plaguing sylus suddenly dissipates and becomes replaced with despair. his hands clench until his knuckles turned white, and once again, that tension just disappears. like he didn't have the energy to continue the emotion. "i don't want to know anymore, i don't care enough, i can't think straight." sylus admits with his head going back down again in a resigned, hung position. "i've built my life ground up and i just... i have nothing to feel for it. it's just here, i'm just here. and i feel nothing, nothing at all."

frustration lines sylus’s voice before it too dissipates once more. being this vulnerable and honest was unnatural for him, it made him uncomfortable to wallow at the knees of someone like you. but just like his anger, just like his frustration, it was hard to have energy to care or regret anymore. one minute the emotion was there, the next it was gone. and what it left was nothing. a devoid of anything.

sylus feels your hand rests atop his head and flinches slightly. he brings his head up to look at you and sees your slightly awkward, tense, and pitiful eyes. your touch was anything but, though. in fact it was warmer than what he would expect from a vampire.

“i… feel that way too, sometimes,” you mumble. you avert your gaze to avoid sylus’s aching eyes. “i had to.. rebuild my life after i became a vampire. everything i knew and loved was no more, and i was no more. and decades later, here i am, with what to show for it except for desperation?”

sylus’s expression clenches in understanding and in pity as well.

“i’ve mourned for what i’ve lost, who i’ve lost. i’ve mourned for those who’ve forgotten me. and even when hope is staring me right in the eyes,” you glance at sylus then quickly look away again, “i can’t feel anything either. i’m also a monster people try to stay away from. even if i’ve never hurt anyone and even if i blend in, i’m… still a monster.”

a fleeting feeling of embarrassment washes over you, realizing that you were reciprocating sylus’s honesty with your own. you swallow tentatively and shake the thoughts of regret from your mind. it came naturally to you. to look at that face and to be the most honest version of yourself, it was who you are.

“i… im sorry,” sylus whispers. he lays his head in your lap and closes his eyes. “im sorry.”

immediately you tense up. you weren’t sure what to make of sylus’s sudden earnestness but it was worlds better than being at the receiving end of his ferocity.

gently, you move your hand back and forth on his head of hair and exhale with emotion. there was simmering uncertainty between you two.

“i don’t want to be kept away again,” you break the silence. “makes me feel like an animal. like the monster you keep talking about.”

sylus nods just slightly in your lap acknowledging your request. he felt a responsibility to keep you away from all the prejudice he once felt. even if you were the “enemy”.

after a few minutes of unusual but mending silence, sylus raises his head off of you and starts climbing the bed. immediately you lean back and look between his eyes. it was moments like these you remember just how much bigger he was than you.

“are you sure you don’t need any blood?” sylus rumbles out. his palms were pressed into the mattress on either side of your hips. a single knee of his hoisted him up on the bed and helped him tower over you. he was looking down at you and eyeing every mix of emotion that passed through your eyes.

you sputter. “u…um, i’m not that hungry but… do you want me to feed?”

to your surprise sylus nods, but just barely so. “yeah,” he mumbles, “i want you to feed.”

“w-why?”

sylus squints his eyes at you. “because… you need to eat, and i promised to keep you alive.”

“but… i just said i wasn’t hungry.”

sylus clenches the bedsheets beneath his hands. he stares you down but it wasn’t to intimidate you, but to figure out what to say next based on your reaction. safe to say you were confused.

“let me feed you,” he whispers, “i want to give you myself.”

the sequence of expressions on your face would be amusing to him if it wasn’t for such a gray atmosphere in the air. he leaned in closer, your noses almost touching, and repeats himself. “let me feed you, i know you want it.”

and oh boy you did.

from the way your hands gripped in your lap, to the way you swallowed mouthfuls of spit imagining it was his blood, you wanted it. and he was dangling it in front of you like candy.

“but if i keep taking blood when i don’t need—“

you yelp as sylus suddenly pushes himself forward and pins you against the bed with his own body. and just as quickly, he turns your bodies over so that you were the one laying on him. cups the back of your head with his palm and angles it to his neck.

“it’s okay, drink,” he whispers gruffly, “just drink.”

and that insistence—even after you denied needing it, even knowing hunger wasn’t plaguing you right now—that insistence makes you break.

you can barely register it but within seconds you wrapped your arms around sylus’s neck and pulled yourself closer to his skin for a bite. like second nature at this point, your fangs meet his skin and breaks it’s healing barrier. immediately, you start drinking.

a groan leaves both of you as pain and pleasure circles between your bodies. it didn’t even matter if you were hungry or not anymore. physical hunger played no part in how much you needed this lifeline of yours.

“yes,” sylus moans breathless, “yes, just like that. take what you need.”

you snarl in response. obviously, you were happy to comply.

when your fangs sink in deeper sylus can’t help but throw his head back from the overwhelming sensation. it was so unpleasant but your eagerness, your need for him gave him an unending satisfaction. he knew pain well enough to know when it was searing, and your infliction upon him was anything but.

“you,” sylus chokes out softly, “make me feel something i never have. like this…” you growl in between his words, “like this i’m perfect. i’m wanted. i’m not a monster.”

he pushes your head imperceptibly further in. you were already so close but the need to fuse with you in the moment was so strong. this was your kindness, he needed to be one with your kindness. he was your virgin, after all.

just as usual, sylus’s blood was thick and sweet with a nice course feel to it on your tongue. all you could think about was how different dragon’s blood was to rat’s blood or bird’s blood. it was pure, healthy, and potent. everything you needed.

his muffled, pitiful words were distant to your hazed mind. all you selfishly cared about was getting in another fill of his blood. there was a time where hurting sylus like this was unthinkable—but now, as a vampire, with needs far more important than sylus, you couldn’t care less.

sylus smiles to himself and closes his eyes for a moment. he could feel that familiar lightheaded sensation come back to his body. but instead of frustration or fatigue, he only felt empowered.

when he opens his eyes again, he was greeted with the top of your head so close to his face. like second nature, he leans closer and kisses the crown of your head. and what was one peck turned into several. silent but sweet thank yous from him but barely appreciated by you.

even when the groaning and slurping finally stopped and you finally pull back from his neck. sylus couldn’t help himself but continue his affections.

your flushed expression and red-stained lips was addictive. he leans into closer and licks away a few rogue drops of blood from the corner of your lips and then pulls back with a smile.

“are you full? was it good for you?” he whispers while stroking your cheek tenderly.

you could barely register sylus’s softening demeanor but respond with a slight nod anyway. “yeah… mm.. good.”

sylus’s eyes become rounded with emotion. he pitches your cheek affectionately. “do you need more?”

you shake your head, “no…” you whisper. your senses start to slowly come back to you. you’re suddenly hyper aware of how close you are to sylus’s face and how kind he’s being to you. “was… was it good for you?”

sylus’s smile drops slightly but twitches back up again. “yeah, it was.”

“why?”

“it feels good.”

“how?”

“it just does.”

you flit your eyes down to the bites on his neck and the other bruisings that were healing. “it doesn’t look like it feels good. it looks painful.”

“it is.”

“then why does it feel good?”

sylus takes a moment, thinking about how to respond. “because… i think you give me something i need. i haven’t done anything like this before. with someone who… i guess needs me, likes me.”

you straighten at his words and fumble back into a sitting position from where you were laid. on his lap now, you don’t know where to look or how to feel about this words. “wh-why do you say it like that?” you almost laugh. “i’m just… drinking blood…”

your reaction makes sylus flushed as well. he sits up awkwardly and clears his throat, wondering how to move forward after saying something so embarrassing.

“i know,” he mumbles, “but it’s different for me than it is for you. but… we both benefit from it, so doesn’t really matter how or why.” he pulls you in closer just slightly. “just matters that we both get what we need.”

you nod with an incredulous look on your face. this was amazing news for you, it seemed. not only a source of blood, but of the finest blood out there. yet still, the sudden shift in sylus didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“yeah,” you smile just slightly, “doesn’t matter.”

the next few moments of silence consisted of you and sylus simply staring at each other, awkward but understanding smiles on your close faces. it only takes a few more moments for sylus to decide to move on. he picks you up effortlessly and attaches you to the front of his body. your legs instinctively go around his hips and your arms around his neck.

with you hoisted up against him, he clicks off the dim light of the room and walks out. he turns his head slightly to catch a glimpse of your side profile.

“no more hiding out. let’s go to my room.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“are you sure this is a good idea, kieran?” luke whisper shouts to his brother. he hid behind his back like something was going to come out of nowhere and snatch him away.

“i thought we agreed,” kieran scoffs. “boss isn’t going to talk to us if she’s around. did you see the way he carried her into his room? all… lovey-dovey and shit? fuck, it’s disgusting. she has him hypnotized or something. so we can’t get answers out of boss, we have to get answers out of her.”

“i know, i know,” luke sighs, “but… can’t this wait until she’s awake?”

luke stares at sylus’s bedroom door with unease. just by chance did he and kieran see sylus and you walk into his bedroom. or rather, sylus walking in and you attached to him like a vest from the front. with the lights off and no noises coming from the bedroom, it was somewhat safe to assume that the two of you were asleep. even if… vampires didn’t really need asleep. the twins would take their chances anyway.

“no, it can’t,” kieran insists with his arms crossed. “if she’s wide awake then that means boss would be too. and you know we can’t do this if he’s awake. we just gotta do this efficiently, yknow? efficiently… quickly… intimidatingly…”

“kieran,” luke murmurs while eyeing his brother’s antsy form up and down, “stop moving around so much it’s making me nervous. let’s just… do this and get it over with. do you have the weapons?”

kieran nods. “and more in the bedroom if we need them. i wish i could just kill her instantly but… we need information out of her.”

luke smiles to himself. “you sound just like a boss… y’know when he still gave a shit about a vampire being in the house.”

kieran smiles back. it was a moment of humor in an otherwise daunting environment. “yeah… i learned from the best.”

the twins face the door head on and with one final shared breath, reach for the knob and click it open. the hallway light spills in just a sliver, illuminating the bed that was in the middle of the room.

two forms there, one noticeably bigger than the other. you and sylus.

the twins felt their heart rates pick up at the intimate sight. it was just you two sleeping next to each other, but it was wrong. you weren’t supposed to be there, you were supposed to be dead by now.

they swiftly walk in, not bothering to be too slow with their pace. they needed to get in and then get out.

at the side of the bed where you were laid at, they gaze down at you. hair mussed up and expression peaceful in sleep. thank god you actually were asleep.

the twins glance at each other before giving the other a firm nod and going in immediately. luke covers your mouth with his palm and hoists you up harshly while kieran moves back and holds a silver-plated knife to your neck—courtesy of all the weapon crates still in security.

immediately, you wake up from the yank of your body. any noise you made was pushed back by luke’s palm and soon you realize from the knife on your skin to not make any noise at all. the two boys you keep seeing around the estate were now here with you.

you glance at sylus beside you who was still unmoving and fast asleep. you curse the fatigue that was causing him such deep sleep. it was evident from the first bite you took how long he slept afterward, and while that was good for you then, it was life or death now.

the twins nervously drag you off the bed and out the bedroom, closing the door behind them. there was complete silence between the three of you because everyone was on extreme high alert.

you’re lead to another bedroom across the hall—kieran’s bedroom—and forcibly sat in a chair. your arms are tugged back by luke and then locked at the wrists with silver handcuffs, then same done to your ankles. you notice how many weapons were on the floor and tables of the room. they were all the n109 zone’s high tech vampire equipment.

it was only once you were completely bound and helpless that the twins even acknowledged you.

“listen,” kieran murmurs very lowly. “i won’t waste my time on idle talk. you know why you’re here right now. what have you done to boss?”

luke steps forward, backing up his brother. “you’ve been feeding off of him, right? you’re making that man sick for fuck’s sake. listen… we don’t know what your end goal is here, but the last thing boss needs right now is to deal with you anymore.”

your eyes, blown wide from sheer astonishment at the situation, look between the twins. you laugh incredulously. “what?”

kieran brings the knife back up to your neck. “this isn’t fucking funny.”

you glance down at the knife. “you two are just like him. empty threats and desperation. i’ve had this song and dance with your boss. he put me in a cage and threatened to starve me but he needed me for information, so he kept me alive.”

kieran’s face scrunches up in disapproval. “have you not spoken? is this little… charade of his to get you to speak?”

you shake you head. “i’ve already told him what he wanted to know.”

the twins visibly look taken aback. this whole time they lived on the hope that maybe, just maybe, this was all a tactic for sylus to find the answers he needed. even if it sounded a little crazy to them, they didn’t know any better. boss never shared his plans anyway.

“what?” luke whispers. “how can we trust you?”

“how am i supposed to prove that you can? you two already seem to hate me.”

“of course we fucking hate you!” kieran suddenly yells. the force of his emotions causes the knife in his hand to accidentally knick your skin. “you’ve… you’ve turned boss into a zombie! he won’t even speak to us anymore! he’s always with you! or… or just not there…he’s so hollow… it’s like… it’s like you’ve done something to him!”

“i didn’t do anything!” you yell back, equally as angry now. “he wanted this!”

“bullshit he wanted this!” kieran retorts. his eyes start watering behind his mask but the tears couldn’t be wiped away right now. “why… why would he want this? why would he want to be your stupid fucking… blood bag?! he’s the fucking sovereignty of the n109 zone. he’s not going to let some weak vermin like you… use him!”

“kieran,” luke interjects whilst putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “kieran, calm down. you’re only going to make yourself more upset. you don’t need to fight with your voice, we have weapons.”

you start struggling against your confinements and thrash around in the chair. you were so sick of being the main villain in this story. so what, you did sneak in. but it was the house full of impulsive men who got you to this point. it was so clear to you that these boys knew nothing about their boss despite being “like his sons”.

“i can’t fucking take her anymore, luke,” kieran cries softly with the knife slowly pushing more into your skin. “i can’t fucking take looking at her face and i can’t fucking take looking at boss and wondering what happened. we can fix it. whatever boss is going through, we can fix it. but we just need her gone.”

luke nods in agreement, his own tears threatening to spill. “i… know. i know. i can’t imagine boss wanting this either. it’s not right… it’s not like him. but we can’t kill her, not yet.”

you watch the emotional exchange between the brothers with a bit of regret in your heart. if you hadn’t manipulated, lied, and taken advantage of sylus in his vulnerable states, this wouldn’t be happening. but at the same time… you missed him and needed blood.

you missed him, you needed blood.

you missed him, you needed blood.

you missed him, you needed blood.

the two emotions of love and greed overwhelmed your judgement and here you were, however much time later, suffering the consequences of your desperation.

every single one of you was desperate for something it seemed. you, sylus, the twins. it seems like everyone was working off trying protect something and fulfill themselves.

you weren’t lying when you said you related to sylus in his emptiness. at some point you started feeling nothing but… well, nothing. you were in a cycle of trying to survive and trying to keep your identity a secret. and still then, the thought of dying and being reborn was worse to you. you kept on living for the sake of it, and only when you met sylus at that bar, did you feel your two new emotions.

love and greed playing out over and over again in an endless cycle until you ended up here, tied up to a chair, facing the consequences of your own actions. but even here, you didn’t regret a single thing.

“please,” kieran almost whimpers. he drops the knife to the floor and drops to his knees along with it. “please, just tell us what you did… please just tell us why boss—“

the door opens to the bedroom.

the familiar creaking sound catches the attention of all three of you. it plays out like déja vu.

the twins look back, slightly horrified.

you look up, slightly hopeful.

sylus stands there with a menacing look to his face. his hands are clenched into fists by his sides but he makes no other show of his anger. the only sound breaking the barrier now was his voice, and it was as smooth and low as ever.

“what are you two doing?”

just wanna say ty all for your support! means the world

tl: @seventeen-x , @webshooterrr9 , @theycallmesoup , @satansdaughter123 , @tyasmaple , @jaynawayna , @jadeymeciela , @namjooningera , @phisen , @eepamaawo , @lolaisoffline, @floofycookie, @thejmins, @multisstuff, @meowgumiiii

[pazzi5351]

Even if you called 6 months later at 3 am, I’d still answer.

Paige x Azzi

Word count: 1.4k

AN: little one shot I wrote based on this book on tt I saw! Listen to “party 4 you” once Paige gets to the house if you want a slight heartbreak! For the girly who asked for angst, I hope I fulfilled your wishes! Live reacts are greatly wanted!!!!! Hope you like����‍↕️

————————————————————————————

6 months.

It had been 6 whole months since their last conversation.

It had been 6 months since Paige’s world was turned upside down when Azzi posted a picture of her and her boyfriend.

It had been 6 months since Paige lost her best friend.

6 months since she lost the love of her life.

6 months and she felt it everyday.

She felt it during practice when she saw Azzi running the floor.

She felt it during classes when she was supposed to be paying attention.

But most of all, she felt it in the quiet moments. The moments where she was by herself, in the quietness of her room, and could hear the hollowed memories of their laughter echoing from the walls

It was one of those quiet sleepless nights when she got the call.

Incoming call: Azzi 💗 [3:02 am]

Paige scrambled to sit up. Flattening her hair down with her palm, trying to look presentable, even though it was just a regular call. She picked up cautiously, but with care.

“Azzi? What’s the matter?”

“Paige,” Azzi whispered through the phone. Paige could tell she was crying, or had been crying. “I fucked up so bad. Please come get me. I need you.”

“I’m on the way.” Paige had barely even hung up the phone before she was sliding into her shoes, grabbing her car keys, and flying out the door.

Checking Azzi’s location once she got to the car, Paige realized that Azzi had talked about going to fucking Jackson’s frat party earlier to Caroline. She didn’t think about the speed limit once as she rushed to the edge of campus.

Towards the frat house.

Towards Azzi.

Once Paige got to the house, she quickly threw the car in park— jumping out, and rushing towards the door.

She banged on the door three times before Jackson, the culprit of the evening, answered.

“Yoo, Paige! What’s up bro? Come in get a—“ Jackson barely got to finish before Paige interrupted him.

“Where’s Azzi?”

“Uh, she was here. Haven’t seen her in a bit.”

Paige, growing irritable by the second snapped. “She’s your fucking girlfriend Jackson. How the fuck do you not know where she is.” Paige pushed past him into the house.

Ignoring whatever else Jackson was saying about Azzi going to the bathroom or something.

Paige checked every room in the house. The basement. All the bedrooms, ignoring the complaints she got as she did. All the bathrooms, until she found one. Tucked all the way into the far corner of the house that was locked.

She knew Azzi was in there. She also knew that Azzi wouldn’t open the door for anyone who knocked regularly. So, she used their secret knock combination they made one night at Azzi’s grandparents cabin.

“Az, since like you know, we’ve been, like, doing stuff, we should make a secret knock that we do on each other's doors so we know it’s just us.” Paige said, as she stood in between the doorframe of the bathroom and Azzi’s room.

Azzi looked up at the blonde. A look on her face paige didn’t recognize. “That sounds like a pretty good idea P. Make it now, well, since you’re standing at the door.”

“Oh, yeah ok.”

Paige knocked once, then paused. Knocked four times, then paused. Then, knocked three times. Her knocks rhythmically spelling out “I love you”.

“Do you think that’s okay? We just have to remember to pause in between the knocks. It’s once, then four times, then three times.” Paige said, nervously, as she picked with her nails, hoping Azzi didn’t catch on to what the knocks spelled out.

Azzi smiled. “Yeah Paige, it’s perfect.”

Paige hesitated as she stood in front of the bathroom door. What if Azzi didn’t remember, she thought.

The thought was short lived as Paige began to knock anyways.

She knocked once. Then four times. Then three times.

The door clicked unlocked.

Paige opened the door as quickly as she could and stepped inside the bathroom. The sight she saw broke her heart.

Azzi was sitting on the bathroom floor. Knees pulled in against her chest. Cheeks flushed— with tear marks sitting on her face. And, a look in her eyes that Paige swore, could make her cry too.

“Azzi, baby. What happened?” Paige asked, as she stepped closer to Azzi, sitting down with her, gently placing a hand on her cheek.

“I fucked up Paige.” Azzi started, as she began to cry again. “I came here, to this stupid fucking party because Jackson was all like ‘Come on Az! It’ll be fun!’ And I just, I don’t know what I was expecting, but Jackson fucking stood in the middle of the fucking house and damn near fucked this random girl infront of everyone. With no shame and I—. I’m not even upset he cheated on me, I’m more upset that I stood there and watched. I couldn’t move Paige. I was stuck. But the only thing I could think about is how, you would never do that to me. You’d never invite me to a party and stand in the middle of it and cheat on me. No, you’d do the opposite. You’d throw the party for me. Let everyone know I’m yours and you wouldn’t think twice about it. And I fucked up not choosing you. For six fucking months I didn’t choose you and I’ve regretted it everyday, Paige. I’m so sorry.”

Paige could only look at Azzi.

Azzi, the girl she loves more than herself.

Azzi, the girl who ghosted her for 6 months.

Azzi, the girl she’d answer the phone for at 3 am.

Azzi, the girl she’d forgive in every lifetime.

Paige pulled Azzi into a kiss. It was slow, familiar—a deep, silent conversation between them. One that said everything Azzi just did, and everything Paige didn’t say for 6 months.

Paige pulled away first and grabbed Azzi’s hand, pulling her up.

“Come on. Let’s go home.” Paige said, keeping her and Azzi’s hands interlocked.

Azzi nodded and let herself be pulled along.

When Jackson noticed Paige and Azzi leaving, he paused his drinking game to catch them before they got to the door. “Hey! Where are you going? Oh Azzi! There you are! I’ve been looking for you for hours babe!”

“She’s leaving. Don’t bother calling her tomorrow either. Not like you would’ve anyways.” Paige answered coldly, pushing her and Azzi’s way past Jackson, shoulder checking him on the way out.

Back in her dorm, Azzi sat on Paige’s bed. Knees in her chest, biting her bottom lip in thought, looking at Paige.

Paige sat in her desk chair, looking right back at Azzi.

“I just want to say thank you, Paige. For, you know, getting me out of there.” Azzi said. “You can just ignore what I said earlier. I was just rambling.”

“I can’t forget it. That’s the thing Azzi. I can’t forget anything you’ve said to me. Especially since I’ve felt the same way about you since I was 16, and that’s something that’s never changing.” Paige admitted.

“Oh.”

“Azzi, you remember our secret knock. I mean you had to have, you opened the door when I did it. But have you ever wondered why I made it a one, four, three knock?” Paige questioned.

“No. Not really anyways. I mean, I just thought you liked the way the knocks sounded.” Azzi admitted to the blonde, who was staring at her with an intensity that held all the years between them.

“It means I love you, Azzi. One is for ‘I’. Four is for ‘love’. Three is for ‘you’. I love you Azzi. I’ve loved you everyday since I was 16 and everytime I knocked on your door I told you I love you.” Paige said. “I still loved you during those six months. I still love you now— sitting on my bed, in my shirt, even after you told me to pick you up from your stupid boyfriend.”

Azzi gasped lightly. “I never realized. Oh my God, I’m so stupid. I freaking called you at 3am and I just feel so fucking stupid. It should’ve always been you Paige, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I never saw that. I love you too.”

Paige stood up, walked over to her bed, to Azzi. She gently cupped her face and leaned in to kiss her. When she pulled back she looked Azzi in her eyes, and really looked at her.

“You’re not stupid. I am. I’m so stupidly in love with you, that even 6 months later, I’d answer your 3 am calls with no hesitation.”

————————————————————————————

AN: for the anon that said my work is Ai, would you like to see the timestamps of my writing orrr ??? Anywho! Hope you guys like!

[viperify]

AU | ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ!ᴛᴏᴍ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

₊˚.☾⋆ Mine, forever.

Short Summary: Strange dreams and memories plague your sleep. You would do nothing rather than to forget about everything that has happened—but Tom has other plans for your shared future.

Warnings: obsessive!Tom, biting, blood drinking, Tom doesn’t know what to make of his feelings, slight misogyny, kidnapping I suppose? Also manipulation through the effect of a vampire’s bite.

A/N: This is my participation for week 2 of @acourtofchaos’ Festival of AUs! Just had to take part with my beloved vampire Tommy. <3 — Repost bc I had to make some slight adjustments. Sorry!!

wordcount: 2,5k

also, this is part two of In His Fangs!

Bruised.

Marked.

Branded.

That’s how you left the forest that night.

But not only that.

Tom Riddle was alive—and it would be a burden for you to carry alone.

—

You expect him to come back—almost wait for it. The first few nights, you don’t get to rest. Tossing and turning, trying methods from old books in your attic. It’s all no help. The memory of him, his scarlet eyes, his sharp fangs dragging over your neck, cold hands roaming over your bare skin—keeps you wide awake for most of the night.

Days and weeks pass. Still, no sign of him. People have stopped talking about Voldemort’s return. Just a rumour. Nonsense someone made up back when all these dead sheep were found.

Just rumours, you repeat to yourself, shaking your head slightly. Right.

That evening, after your shower, you take a look in the mirror, eyes drifting to the letters he’s carved just below your collarbone. They have reduced to scars, small imperfections on your skin. Still very visible, and not something you could cover up—no matter what you tried, nothing worked. They’d always shine through, even if you put five layers of makeup.

You have decided to stick to high-neck shirts from now on.

However, today, when you reach to trace them with your finger, you feel a slight burn—not much, barely there—yet, your hand jerks back at the sensation.

It’s almost been four weeks since you last saw him—which means the next full moon should be right around the corner.

You swallow hard at the realisation.

That same night, when you close the curtains to your bedroom window, you take a look at the moon. It’s an almost perfect circle, shining brighter than usual. So bright, you pull the curtains shut, as to protect yourself from it.

As you do, a flash of red in the distance. So small, you barely even register it.

You look again.

Nothing.

You are tired, drained. Sleep catches up faster than you’d want it to, and mere minutes later you are asleep. One of the deepest sleeps you have had in a while.

For a reason.

You don’t often dream, certainly not lately, as you have hardly slept anyway. Though today, you can’t seem to catch a break. Dreams of your years at Hogwarts, of classes and free periods, of your late-night study sessions in the library. They all have something in common—such a small detail, it’s easily missed if not pointed out.

Tom is in every little scene. Sometimes staring at you from across the courtyard, other times reading a book in the library, just an aisle further.

You never noticed, but now it seems so straightforward.

The quiet, nerdy boy with no family to go home to during holidays, the young, handsome prefect with the prettiest eyes and softest hair had been observing you back in school.

As soon as you connect the dots, still half asleep, these little memories fade into a blur—and the scenery changes.

Darkness.

Creaking wood.

The soft, vanilla scent of lit candles.

Freezing cold hands roaming over your exposed skin—having you shiver.

A sudden, sharp pain on your neck—

You shriek awake, drenched in sweat. Looking around you, you are met with nothing except for darkness and silence.

Just a dream.

He won’t come back.

Never.

Right?

Though you have slept for at least eight hours that night, you feel more exhausted than before you went to bed when you wake up in the morning.

Getting out of bed is hard, your neck stiff and sore. But work is waiting, and these days you can’t allow yourself to call in sick. They’ll replace you on the spot if you even only attempt to. You sigh. It’s messed up, but that’s how it is. And you need this job and the money if you don’t want to end up without a roof over your head—urgently.

You carry yourself over to your bathroom, applying toothpaste to your toothbrush before you start cleaning in circular motions. When you look up at your reflection in the mirror, you gasp—toothbrush falling into the marble sink.

There are massive bags under your eyes, cheeks sunken in, eyes glassy. You look horrible—so sick you have no business going outside, let alone working.

But weirdly enough, you don’t feel how you look.

You are just fine—yes, your neck could be better, and you are just a tiny bit dizzy—but that could as well be the result of your recent sleep deprivation—or the fact you are constantly worrying about everything.

Heading to your workplace, you notice people staring, whispering to each other as you pass. You try to ignore them as best as you can, releasing a deep sigh as soon as the entrance door to the little coffee shop you work at closes behind you, the one just around the corner from the Three Broomsticks with barely any customers.

You prepare for your shift, and as expected, it’s slow. Barely served two customers before lunch. Just as you are about to close the shop for break, a man enters. Tall, dressed in all black, face almost unrecognizable as it’s hidden behind a hat, scarf and coat.

Weird, it’s summer.

“We are about to close,” you apologize with a soft smile.

He gets seated nonetheless.

Internally, you want to tell him to leave. Drag him out by his hair if you have to. You are tired, exhausted—but also not in the mood to argue with someone who might just quickly drink a coffee and then leave. Especially when you need every customer you can get anyway.

So you serve him his order.

He doesn’t talk much, yet you feel his gaze burning through you, almost uncomfortably so. You think you know his eyes from somewhere—but you can’t exactly recall from where.

“You look sick. Are you doing quite alright, sweetheart?” He asks, stirring his coffee. Eyes meeting yours as you don’t immediately find an answer.

The voice.

You could swear—

His hand briefly brushes against yours as you clean spilled water from the table, and you flinch at the sensation. They are freezing cold.

“I am— fine.” You reassure, though startled.

He doesn’t speak again after that, and five minutes later, he’s gone. Left a tip, though.

With a note.

“Looking forward to seeing you again.”

You throw it away when you get home.

That night, it’s the same ordeal. Scars burning more than the day before, moon completing a full circle. Dreams of your past, each of them featuring Tom, as though you can’t escape him. Then, memories of that one night in the hut. Clearer this time. How he touched you, where he touched you. How he marked and branded you as his.

Again, you manage to tear yourself from the dream, waking up. Hair stuck to your damp forehead as you turn on the light, checking if there is anyone.

Nobody.

Just as you are about to go back to sleep, you spot a note on your bedside table.

“Come and find me, sweet girl.

Tomorrow, 20:00. I will be there.

If you don’t—as you see, I know where to find you.

And remember, I don’t appreciate disobedience.”

You quickly scrunch the paper, throwing it across the room. You wish he’d just finished the job last time. Like he did with the animals.

Why didn’t he?

—

It’s not that you want to go back, no. But you would rather have it happen in the forest than in your own sacred four walls. Again, you ask yourself—why you? Why not someone else?

Tom is already waiting when you enter the wooden cabin, deep in the heart of the Forbidden Forest.

“I knew you would come if I called for you.” He drawls, stalking towards you.

You scoff. “Did I have a choice?”

A grin tugs at the corner of his lips. “Of course not.”

His eyes scan your body as though he wants to imprint every detail in his mind.

Even more beautiful than last time he saw you, Tom thinks. So pretty when you are scared, shivering. When your heart rate is twice as high as normal—pumping his favourite blood through your veins.

That’s what he’s been waiting for ever since you left.

Tom has done research in the meantime. Gone to several healers he knew he could trust—mostly those closely related to the Malfoys and Rosiers—where he assumed the secret of his return would be safe.

They told him what he had already suspected.

His death broke the curse of the Love Potion his mother had used to seduce his father. And suddenly, when he chose to return as a vampire, all these pent-up feelings he was never able to experience broke free.

He’d always seen you as someone special. An intelligent girl back at Hogwarts, someone that could challenge him—it intrigued him. He observed you, without you ever noticing. But Tom never knew what to make of this strange pull he had towards you.

Until he saw you wandering the street, smelled the scent of you and your blood from a mile away. All these emotions came crashing down onto him, and he realised what it was that interested him about you.

But even now, that he is able to feel—he doesn’t yet know how to love.

So it has turned into obsession instead.

An unknown feeling spread in his chest whenever he saw you from afar. Something that made him crave you, your touch, your affection. He didn’t like it. It made him vulnerable. You made him feel like that. And Merlin, he wanted to punish you for it.

So he lured you into the forest that night. Took everything from you.

He needed you to want him back. But it didn’t happen. So, instead, he made sure you would be his either way.

His initials carved into your skin a constant reminder of who you really belonged to.

“You did that, didn’t you?” You ask, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible. “The dreams, the note. The man at my work. It was all you.”

He nods, face mere inches from yours.

“Why?” You ask again, more silently this time. Voice barely above a whisper.

His hand tilts your head upwards so you are forced to look into his eyes, his thumb wiping over your trembling lips.

“You are so beautiful.” He whispers after what feels like an eternity. Completely disregarding your question. Your heart sinks.

You shake your head. “Answer me.”

His hand trails down your neck, barely touching, slipping beneath the fabric of your sweater—pausing briefly as he feels his initials on your skin.

“You are mine. I usually keep my eyes on my belongings.”

The next sentence slips faster from your lips than what you would have wanted it to.

“You shouldn’t walk around in Hogsmeade. What if— people recognize you?”

His eyes, once focused on where his hand rests beneath your top, snap up to meet yours, a subtle grin forming on his lips.

“Since when do you care? It was you who got me killed, after all.”

You’d expect him to be angry with you—but it’s the opposite, really. His head dips, placing a single, feather-light kiss to your jaw.

“I am sure you’d do nothing rather than go running to your pathetic Aurors at the Ministry and report the rumours are true, no?”

Tom doesn’t wait for a response—instead, he starts trailing kisses down your neck, directly along your vein.

A shiver runs down your spine. You shake your head.

“No— no, I don’t.”

“Mmmh,” he mumbles, his fangs scraping against the sensitive skin of your neck. “Not convinced.”

“Please, I—“

“Shh.” He shushes you, tilting your head to grant him better access to your neck. “Just be still, and I won’t hurt you.”

You nod slowly, a single tear falling down your cheek. You just want this to be over.

Before you even get to process his next move, his teeth sink deep into your flesh, drawing the first drops of blood, pinning you against the wooden panels of the wall. It burns at first—until a warm, pleasurable sensation spreads throughout your body. Your breathing and heart rate slow, and you relax against the wall.

It’s quick, less painful than last time. You try to endure. Not fight back.

It’s hard.

Each time he praises you, or even makes the tiniest sound as he feeds from your neck, you have to hold back a sob.

By the time he’s done, you are more than dizzy. A headache forming. Blood staining your neck, your sweater. Legs trembling.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hands before he presses a kiss to your lips.

“Taste that? How delicious you are? And you really think I would ever let you go.”

You barely register his words as your knees give in, and you sink down on the floor, vision blurring, ears ringing.

The next thing you remember is waking up the morning after. Not in your own bed. The mattress is harder, pillow thicker than your own. Your neck hurts—and not just because of the pillow.

You try sitting up, lift your head—and immediately lie back down. It hurt too badly.

“There she is. Good girl.” An all-too-familiar voice drawls from beside you, and as you turn your head, you see him, for the first time since he came back in daylight.

He is still as handsome as he was back at Hogwarts—though even paler, if that was possible. Still the same beautiful brown eyes. Sharp jawline. Pointy cheekbones. Broad shoulders. A dream, if he wasn’t what he is. If he didn’t do to you what he did.

“Let me go, please. I promise I won’t tell anyone. I can come back, I will—“ you sob. “I will give you anything you want. I promise.”

He merely laughs.

“Seems as though you still haven’t understood. You are mine. From the second I touched you, you have been mine. No man will want you now that I have had you.” Tom says, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Instead, you will be with me.”

You try to find your voice to object, to tell him to forget it. He is the last man you would—

He kisses you instead. Softly. Slowly. And for whatever reason, you don’t protest—let him kiss you—even part your lips to grant him entrance.

Tom turns to look back at you when he gets up to leave—grinning. He is so close to getting you where he wants you. Just a few bites more and he would have you following his orders, make you like him back. And then, at some point, in a few years, maybe—

“One day, I am going to turn you,” he murmurs. “Make you mine, forever.”

thank you for reading! feel free to reblog and leave feedback <3 — masterlist. | AUs.

©2025 viperify. please do not copy, translate or claim my work as your own.

[janestvalentine]

I couldn't decide which tags I wanted to reblog this post with...so I decided to do all of them:

#rimi talks#like you can absolutely get into discussion of copaganda in comics and the authorial end editorial centrism, #because god knows a lot of comics (esp older ones) just absolutely REEK of performative activism or copaganda or what have you, #and there is definitely plenty to be said there, #but that's not what people saying this stuff are talking about 😭, #it's all just ''but i want the white man to kill a crowd of evil goons but it's fine bc none of their lives mattered bc they got in his way!, #and don't worry he was unquestionably right to have killed them and it was really cool and sexy of him to do so and also he was right'', #(now don't take this as me disagreeing that fictional murder can be sexy. of course it can. ive seen pamela isley.), #(but while i would call her sexy i would not call her RIGHT for being a murderous ecofascist yk), (x)

#'but you see this guy is making the world better by killing people, #bc he's only killing the really bad guys like the sex offenders and paedophiles and rapists', #buddy. please tell me which demographics are most likely to be accused of paedophilia and rape., #i cannot emphasise enough that if you go into superhero comics and then get annoyed bc the characters don't kill people, #maybe you just don't like superhero comics., #and also i don't like you., (x)

#LITERALLY, #also: ever heard of the brutalizing effect? there’s really conflicting evidence about whether execution BY THE STATE even ‘works’, #as a deterrent against crime, #(and is in practiced applied really racistly but anyway), #and ur telling me u want VIGILANTES to kill their enemies???? like now uve created a norm where superheroes can kill villains without, #due process and now both villains and goons are NAWT going to surrender peacefully to superheroes bc theyll be scared of. yk. GETTING THEIR, #HEAD CHOPPED OFF, #wait sorry that’s not even the main mechanism behind the brutalizing effect i was just also saying that would also fuck up superhero’s MAIN, #priority: um? fucking making the streets safer? if the villains are worried about their safety after getting defeated then they’re gonna go, #even more all out before going out #anyway brutalizing effect is when the people who will commit violent crimes are NOT deterred by executions of convicted felons, #bc they don’t identify with the convicted felon they identify with the executioner, #also. obvi. parallels to police brutality if superheroes killed., #but even besides that like why would superheroes want to create a norm of killing. they would not want to normalize killing., (x)

#yeah‚ this! precisely this is such a succinct and effective wording of this exact problem, #like. doing the above is/would be no different to watching every movie billed as a chick flick hoping for a bodice ripper, #yeah if you try hard enough you'll find what you're looking for a couple of times, #but you've fundamentally misunderstood what it is this genre can do for you. congrats you missed the thesis, #go read jack reacher number three hundred and four or smth, (x)

#people who act like its bad that batman realises the value in every humans life, #like be so fr, #yeah jokers awful but why do you only put the blame on batman, #what about the gcpd's role or the legal system not sentencing him the death penalty? thats the real reason jokers alive after all he's done, #but sure blame the vigilante, #why do you want your superheros to be murderers? the people that kids are supposed to look for as symbols of hope and justice?, #you want superheros... to be murderers., #think about that for a second, (x)

#it’s like going into a bakery and hating all the cakes there, #honestly i love the hardship that comes from those decisions of to spare not kill etc., #seeing how it takes a toll both physically and mentally on characters and yet they keep pushing through regardless, #it’s what made me realize i like Superman and Superboy tbh, (x)

people who go into superhero comics (the "heroes don't kill" genre, where (admittedly, often very flawed) discussion of the morality of taking a life and themes of lawfulness, vigilanteism, and redemption are like the entire foundations of the genre) and then get pissy about how they want edgier protagonists who kill their enemies. bro just go watch Generic Action Blockbuster #74821384

[sayhellotothedark]

hi ! u don’t have to write this , but could i request some poly!lost boys w/ a s/o who likes rock music headcannons ? ty if i decide to write my bad idea lol <3

hi! omg I'm so sorry this came too late but it's here now! hope you like them 🖤

Poly! Lost Boys with a s/o who likes rock music

• The boys have a Jim Morrison picture, they know your jam

• Their also like their music loud, so feel free to turn the volume on from whatever you're listening too, they will love it

• In fact, it was music what brought you together in the first place, meeting with them in a music store, looking through the rock section

• You can exchange vinyls with them, also borrow some (and those vinyls never came back, they are yours know and they know it)

• They boys have a player in their cave, so you can have personal dance parties with them

• Usually they end up being you, Marko and Paul singing off key and playing air instruments, jumping everywhere while David and Dwayne watch you fooling around

• Also, you, Marko and Paul making all the voices from 'Bohemian Rhapsody'

• David likes to teach you "real music" from time to time, so he picks his favourite records for you to listen

• Marko likes to make you mix tape, so you can listen to them when you miss him~

• When you go with them to concerts, it doesn't matter if you're too short or not, there's always someone taller ruining everything. but don't worry, Dwayne got you, he will put you on his shoulders so you can see everything from your VIP seat

• Paul likes to buy (steal) pins from every concert you go together and put them in your jacket. you don't have one? don't worry, he would get you one too

• If your favourite band is in town and you want to see them don't worry, they'll get you there

• Rock parties on the beach, with loud music and beer

• Slow dancing with the ballads! it's usually with Dwayne but the four of them like to indulge from time to time

• David always catches the guitar picks, you're sure how he does it, but it doesn't matter because he gives them to you 🖤

• They all coordinate on your birthday to give you some records you want or other band parafernalia so you don't get two of the same

• They also got you some signed vinyls, but it's a secret how they got them and you prefer it like that

• Some light-hearted arguments about bands, most often with Marko and David, they're the most vocal about their music taste

• Making out with some romantic rock in the background!

• If someone has a pin or patch you like Paul is willing to steal it for you 🖤 you won't see him do it, though. He just disappears for a moment and in the next he got it (and maybe the former owner disappeared too)

• If you got a crush on some musician most of the boys just let it slide. but not David. he plays cool and all, but you catch him giving bad eye to your posters of that musician

• if you play some instrument make sure they'll have you playing for them and making song requests for you

• also if you play an instrument and admire someone who plays the same they will get you that instrument signed (like a slash signed guitar or something like that)

• they will spoil you for sure and they like they know what to get you. it's easier for them as you share likes with them

[elodieunderglass]

Hiya! Through the magic of "Tumblr recommending posts to me from about ten years ago despite them having nothing to do with the current post", I saw you'd donated your hair a while ago. I tried to do it previously but it was a disaster (the hairdresser did NOT understand what I was trying to do, had never heard of it, and the hair ended up unusable), so I was wondering how it went for you? I successfully did it when I was in passing in France previously, but never at home in the UK apart from that disastrous encounter (she also did not respect my wishes to Not Straighten my hair. Sigh.), so I thought I'd ask since I know you're UK-based. Apologies for the long rambling! Essentially - when you donated your hair a while ago, how did it go? Do you have any tips?

(https://www.tumblr.com/elodieunderglass/754729007428386816/elodieunderglass-goodbye-to-all-my-loved-long)

Oh yeah! Well, I donated it to the Princess Trust, and I can’t remember, but I may have gotten a letter back? If they throw it away they wouldn’t tell you, of course. There are never clear about outcomes.

In the past I’ve gone in saying what I wanted to do, and even if the hairdressers didn’t understand, they were enthusiastic. I had the donation instructions on my phone, and I think they wanted it sent braided. In the post photo from 2018 there are a lot of mismatched hair ties because the hairdresser scrounged them up from various places, set the ponytail length according to the website, tied four ponytails, braided them on me, then cut them off above the tie. I think that’s a fairly sensible way of doing it.

I think that may have been my most recent donation - These days I’m keeping my long hair and trimming it myself!

Best of luck and thank you, from me, for your donation. Even if it wasn’t used I respect you and am proud of you.

[pathologicalreid]

Criminal Minds: Evolution (Recap)

next on CME

providing the people of tumblr with a recap of CME before the episode with Spencer airs, since I know a lot of people are only watching that episode. the goal isn't to have you know everything about the show by the time we get there, it's just so you can watch that episode and understand what's going on without watching the preceding two seasons. spoilers for episode one and two ahead.

Episode 1: Just Getting Started

Written by Erica Messer Directed by Nelson McCormick

Starts in Yakima, WA, we see a man in a storage unit doing some hinky shit with knives. we don’t know him and then we flash forward to 2022. 

Good old criminal minds showing you a crime before anything else. We see a girl get kidnapped from her house.

We then flash forward to Yakima but this time in the present day! My beautiful wife Tara Lewis is here checking out that shipping container.

There are embalmed bodies and stuff but the most important thing they find is a polystyrene case of equipment. There are dead bodies in there that are more recent kills and also skeletons.

The FBI has benched the jet! Rossi is the unit chief! Emily is section chief!

The FBI split the BAU up because they say the agents solve twice as many cases when they’re more individual. they were only supposed to be operating like that for six month but it’s been almost 3 months.

Brief mention Reid and Simmons are NAWT with the BAU at this time.

Rossi is obsessed with this case in Virginia. He’s also kind of lost his shit. He’s living in a hotel with crime scene photos and newspaper clippings pasted to the wall.

He’s the first character to swear in Evolution! He says “holy shit” while watching bodycam footage.

Rossi calls JJ about a case in Silver Spring where a guy has a severed spinal cord, and he’s convinced that his case in Alexandria is serial but he doesn’t have evidence.

He goes to a case in Bethesda! He’s with Luke, the killer left a baby alive and kidnapped the teenage daughter. Killed both parents.

The deputy director (Doug Bailey) wants the whole BAU on the missing girl but Lewis is on the case with the shipping container. Mildly reminiscent of the Linda Barnes plotline.

All energy goes to finding the teenage girl (Chrissy). 

Dave yells at Luke he’s really gone off the rails and tensions are high between the team. Krystall died at some point between the end of the main series and the beginning of evolution, hence his crash out.

We see the UnSub texting someone about $10,000. This is the first inclination that we really see of the main story of the season. He has Chrissy in the trunk of his car.

First Garcia mention while they’re looking at security footage, there are FOUR people trying to do the job that she did.

Back to Yakima! The local police officer proposes that the killer stopped because he died of COVID and Tara wonders if he stopped because the entire world “stopped” during the pandemic—there was no one to stalk or abduct so he simply… stopped. They need a better lab to analyze everything that was left in the container, Tara proposes bringing it to Quantico.

Luke and JJ decide to look into the family and specifically Chrissy, only to find that her only active internet presence is on a website called SOAR “Safe Online Acquaintance Revolution.” Both teenage girls whose families were victimized only used that platform for social media.

SOAR is highly protected, but Penelope is one of the people who designed it to keep kids safe online. Luke proposes asking Garcia, JJ reminds him that they promised they wouldn’t bring her back to the BAU. In the end, Luke goes to talk to Penelope (he lost a bet). He shows up at her apartment and she is less than thrilled to see him.

She tries to get him to leave, but he hits her with a “I don’t know who else can help.” So… she makes her baking club leave.

  She tells one of the members that she and Luke thrive as frenemies. Luke says “We’re friends. Why do I have to be your enemy?”

Luke tells her that her office is still empty, he’s never even met her replacements! (COVID)

The UnSub takes Chrissy to an RV in the middle of nowhere.

They profile why the UnSub befriends the girls first and also the improvement from the first crime to the second crime. JJ proposes it’s almost like he read a manual on how to improve his crime.

Penelope finds someone who communicated with both daughters, a teenager trying to reconnect with his birth family. They use the messages between the boy, RJ, and the daughters to figure out he’s taken Chrissy to a remote area. Garcia then finds a property that was seized by the state and finds that the parents of a young boy, Rory James Gilcrest, OD’d fifteen years ago and the boy was the only survivor.

Chrissy figures out that the person who kidnapped her is the person she’d been talking to on SOAR, she then finds out that he killed her parents, so she attacks him with a hammer. He pulls a gun on her, but thankfully the BAU is right outside. She blames herself for the death of her family and puts the gun to her head. Rossi talks her down.

“None of this is your fault, okay? You hear me? Right now, you can make a choice. You have to choose to fight. You have to want to survive. Listen, I can’t promise it’s gonna be okay, but it’s been almost a year since my wife, Krystall, died, and it still hurts like hell. It’s the little things they don’t tell you. The quiet in the house. I can’t stand it, but in that quiet, I’m reminded of her.”

Ballistics say that the UnSub shot himself, even though he didn’t profile as suicidal.

In the trunk of the car that RJ ended up with, he had a polystyrene case that’s caked in mud like it was buried. JJ says it’s sophisticated for a 19 year old kid. Luke brings up her comment about how it’s like. A how-to manual. The show cuts to Tara looking through photos from the shipping container, including a polystyrene case. The news in Yakima shows that the BAU found the missing girl and in the background, they see an officer moving the case.

Tara sends Rossi photos of the polystyrene case and he calls her, he tells her they need all eyes on this.

The episode ends in Whitfield County, Georgia, where we see someone burying another one of the cases. This person is Elias Voit.

Episode 2: Sicarius

Written by Breen Frazier Directed by Nelson McCormick

The cuck episode <3. As soon as I saw the man being wheeled over on a gurney, the episode came rushing back to me. The UnSub is severing spinal cords, this is the UnSub briefly mentioned by JJ in the previous episode. He places his victims on a massage table and puts his phone on the ground with the front facing camera so he can watch their reactions (he’s also recording, important for later).

We see Penelope, starting the episode in true pandemic fashion with a Microsoft Teams meeting for SOAR. Then we see JJ and Will being domestic and cute, and JJ cancels date night for work and Will says it’s fine but they have a talk about it.

Will has a weird line saying JJ has been really busy “since we got back” and I have never figured out if he’s referencing anything specific or if it’s just an allusion to the pandemic.

Back to Quantico! Rossi is still looking ragged as fuck and living out of the hotel, but they kind of move on from that really quickly and talk about the case. Good looking men in their 30s are being found in Silver Spring, MD with their spinal cords severed. They also both had some apps like Tinder and some more… nefarious (?) apps on their phone.

They are bulls who take part in the kink known as cuckolding and I am not going to explain it to you but they do in the show.

The UnSub took similar steps to the UnSub in the last episode, down to selling his car in a Wal-Mart parking lot. So they’re like we have to take this case and they wonder how it’s connected to the shipping container.

Tara and Emily have successfully gotten the shipping container from Washington state to Quantico, the evidence is being processed. Doug Bailey is displeased.

Back to Whitfield County, GA! Elias Voit is back and he’s fiddling with something in the dirt when he gets an encrypted message and is sent the video from our UnSub of him torturing his most recent victim. There’s a text exchange that follows. Voit asks the UnSub if he followed the rules. This is the first real indication that Voit is the person who has been guiding these UnSubs.

They’re talking more about the case and I don’t have it in me to talk about the kink. They’re led to a politician and decide to bring him and his wife in.

Reid and Simmons mention! Rossi says he misses them.

Penelope gets a message from an anonymous user who tells her how SOAR was compromised, he won’t tell her who he is but sends her details about the case that the BAU is actively working on.

The team questions the couple about the kink. Next.

Emily and Tara try to defend the choice to move the shipping container to Doug Bailey and he’s kind of ridiculous. Tara asks if Emily wants a “friend” from the DOJ to ask around about what’s going on with the brass (It’s Rebecca, her gf).

There is no consistent MO with the shipping container victims, one of them had sicarius spiders poured down their throat. This is how the UnSub gets the name Sicarius.

The cuck couple was sent the same video that Voit was sent earlier, the team watches it. Toward the end of the video, the UnSub accidentally reveals that he has one of those polystyrene cases, the team starts to call them “kill kits.”

Bailey is an expert in “efficiency” and wants to eventually become Attorney General, so he’s marching his way through the BAU and other parts of the FBI in order to get there.

Emily clocks the fact that Tara and Rebecca are dating IMMEDIATELY.

Next stop is Hamilton County, TN, we are stuck with Voit again and he gets a call from the UnSub (Robert) because the UnSub wants to kill again, but since Voit is his serial killer guru, he can’t kill until Voit says it’s okay.

He says he’s in network security, this is also what his family thinks he does.

Luke brings up Penelope again ohhhhh my god he’s obsessed.

When Rossi finds out the lab techs named the UnSub Sicarius he says “I’m not gonna name this jag-off! Fuckhead! Okay? Call him that!”

Okay peepaw let’s get you to bed.

Penelope calls Rossi and gives him the information that the anonymous user gave to her, and Rossi tries to get her to come back to the BAU.

Brief mention, Krystall died from an unnamed disease. Did I say that already?

The anonymous user calls Penelope and she tells him she gave the information to the FBI. He insists she needs to be the one to decrypt it or else people are going to die, so, Penelope comes back to Quantico. Everyone who does her job works from home, so her office is virtually untouched. It’s been 1,009 days since she last logged into the system.

The scene where she first logs in is set to “It’s Tricky” by Run DMC, and it’s just so incredibly Penelope.

The anonymous user has mapped out the locations of thirteen different kill kits. It sets out a homing signal in the kit in Tara’s shipping container. That’s how the UnSubs find the kill kits; they each have a transponder.

An APB is put out for Robert Harris, and Voit sees it. Now he knows that Robert didn’t wait like he said. Robert broke the rules. The rule is that the person who gets caught has to either kill themselves or Voit will find them and kill them instead. In this case, Robert kills himself.

The kill kits slowly shut down, meaning Voit is shutting them off so the BAU has no way to track them anymore.

In her office, Penelope finds the note that she left right before she left the BAU in the series finale and reads it. We don’t get to know what it says, but whatever it says motivates her to remain with the team.

In Seattle, Voit returns to his wife and children. We see that he kidnapped a dog (Freak) and lies through his teeth to his wife.

Fun fact, his TV wife his played by his IRL wife.

JJ asks Will is he thinks “our fears come out in our sex life” (In reference to something Rossi says earlier in the episode) and Will’s immediate response is “Am I in trouble?” They more or less commit to work on their relationship and that’s kind of their theme for the season.

Rossi cleans up (and checks out of his hotel) and then JJ comes in being chipper, leading Emily to ask “is everyone around here getting laid except me?” and Rossi “Oh, I’m not.” (OUCH).

End scene!

the recaps will get a little shorter, but these first episodes are so exposition heavy that this was unavoidable

[casual-praxis]

Some random Red observations (because he’s my favorite)

In no particular order, but starting with:

1. Red is the only one to directly break the fourth wall by verbally acknowledging the readers, but I’ve noticed there’s also a handful of times he seems to look directly at the reader as well.

You could argue he’s just looking behind himself to check, but the framing feels a bit intentional. Like he’s aware that’s not quite true.

This instance could also be nothing, but considering everyone else is looking forward, it's possible he’s addressing the reader. But it's just as likely a dig at Blue, too, all things considered.

-

2. Vio only answered Red’s question directly.

Granted, “don’t be so shocked” is also a response to Blue (and Green), but not one that answers his question.

This doesn’t really mean anything, I just think it’s neat. Assuring it’s the real him just makes sense, there’s no deeper meaning there, but I like to think it’s also partially because Red was so torn up earlier about not knowing where the real Vio was (in the Temple of Darkness). That's at the very least why Red was the one to ask this anyway.

-

3. Knowing Red holds grudges, as seen with Blue in the cave, this was probably intentional.

“Oops.” <- he's not sorry lmao.

Considering Red and Vio are frequently shown standing next to each other early on in the manga, but not as often once they all reunite, it's definitely something to think about. (Side note: most of the instances post-reunion where they're near each other are because of Vio running over to Red. You can't convince me Red's not his favorite.)

-

4. Since we can’t see Red’s arms here, he’s probably hugging Blue.

This is the closest we get to an actual hug between the two. (And if his arms are just pinned in front of him, then we still have no hug between these two, which is odd, considering they most certainly spent the most time together out of all of them.)

-

5. Red’s just idling here.

We do see a more expected reaction from him on the next page, but it's interesting that he wasn't given a mouth to emote with like the others. What's he feeling here?

-

6. Of the colors, Red was probably the only one whose sword could have been stolen.

The other three are quick to draw their weapons when faced with potential danger, but Red never even thought of taking his sword out, thus allowing for it to be taken in the first place.

He literally has a buncha hostile adults pointing pitchforks and shovels in his face and he's still trying to defuse the situation with talking (though, to be fair, drawing a weapon could have led to a fight, he probably knew that.) I also think the other's would have noticed someone trying to take off their sword (with the exception of maybe Green?), so that tracks for Red to be more focused on the emotional crowd than where his literal source of being is.

He's not very good at talk-no-jutsu, but at least he tried.

-

7. The manga would be a lot shorter had Red been pointing the fire rod at himself.

Either that, or his comic relief powers would have let him tank it. Though it would have severely undermined the threat of being potentially burned alive way later in the volcano.

Side note, the mob of people chasing him are either incredibly stupid, or way too confident in their ability to withstand point blank fire to the face. If Red weren't so unwilling to hurt innocent people, or was someone actually villainous, they very easily could have gone out the same way their village did.

Mob mentality is one helluva a drug.

-

8. Not pictured, but with how often Red falls over, it makes me wonder if Link is clumsy? Like, did Link's quirks also get divided between the four of them? We know Blue likes to fold his hat and keep things organized (if we take the bonus comics to be somewhat true), but what else can we piece together from the og Link?

At the very least, Vio being so accurate with a bow leads me to believe all the knights are trained in archery to some degree, though it seems Link would much rather stick to a sword, if Green and Blue are any indication.

Red being able to pick up and drop so many weapons (slingshot, magic rods) probably means Link was able to adapt easily to new combat styles, along with Blue and Vio favoring their secondary weapons at times also being a point to that.

For all the faults Link definitely has, he's a powerhouse on the field. Perhaps that's what led to him being so cocky.

(But seriously, why is Red hoarding so many weapons)

[artemisia-black]

Prior to the whole Peter becoming a mass murderer(serial killer?) thing, do you think he and Sirius were ever genuine friends or do you think that they were only really friends in a group setting? Sirius ofc is very loyal to those he cares about and I do think he would’ve been willing to die to save Peter before the betrayal happened. However, I also think that James was the main glue keeping the Marauders together and I could see conversations between Sirius and Peter feeling rather stifled at times. I’m curious to know what you think though :)

Ooh great question- my opinion on this is quite nuanced.

I do believe Sirius when he says he would’ve died for Peter. I think he meant it. That kind of loyalty ran deep (even if it wasn’t uncomplicated). He loved Peter, yes, but I don’t think he always liked him. And that distinction really matters.

We actually see something quite similar with Regulus. Sirius leaves Regulus’s room like a shrine, still calls him a “stupid idiot,” but there’s that same undercurrent: (I loved him, but I didn’t like him). And I think with Peter, it was even more fraught. Peter was, I think, the least liked of the four. Not unloved (but certainly the one who got the sharpest end of Sirius’s tongue).

Part of that, I think, is because Peter played at being more foolish than he was. That obfuscation of stupidity probably meant Sirius was harsher with him than with the others. Plus Peter was sort of benefiting from Sirius’s popularity by proximity (I refuse to ever acknowledge that these amateur cartography dorks were ever the ‘height of cool’ Sirius was ‘popular’ because he was hot not because he was cool).

If you look at the moment when Sirius tells James to “put the Snitch away before Wormtail wets himself”—he’s not just insulting Peter. He’s chastising James too. It’s a moment of frustration with both of them: Peter for sycophancy, and James for indulging it and using peter for attention (the attention that Sirius is ignoring).There’s a whole dynamic there that gets flattened when people just read it as Sirius being cruel.

And also, Sirius does go to check on Peter. That’s how he realises James and Lily are about to die. That’s not nothing, although it is primarily about the Potter’s safety,

To me, it’s that very specific type of friendship: (I love you, but I don’t particularly like you). Peter was probably the most tolerated friend. But he was still part of the group. Which makes the fact that, in the photo Sirius keeps in his bedroom, Peter is standing next to him… really interesting.

And then there’s the Shrieking Shack scene (which I’ve written about in a meta), where Peter is so emotionally manipulative. He doesn’t just beg for mercy – he plays the friendship card. He says:

“Sirius – it’s me … it’s Peter … your friend … you wouldn’t…”

That use of “your friend” is doing a lot of heavy lifting. Peter is a rat on a sinking ship, he’s a survivor and I don’t think he’d use this appeal if he didn’t think it would land (because Sirius has been chasing him with a knife for a year). Therefore, there must be some care on Sirius’s side for Peter to try and use this.

[apiswitchcraft]

psephoi: greek divination tiles

a while ago i made this post about astragalomancy, a form of divination using four-sided knucklebones. in that i mentioned another post that my friend fritz had made about psephoi. since then, fritz has deleted his tumblr blog so i decided to repost these tiles he made (with his permission) and their interpretations!

BACKGROUND:

psephoi is a method of using 24 tiles each inscribed with a greek letter (much like norse runes and celtic ogham) and chosen randomly. it wasn't just used for divination, of course, as with astragaloi (which were used as dice), but in this case we will only be considering the divinatory method.

THE TILES:

psephoi tiles can be a number of things: pieces of ceramic, wood, or pieces of paper. you can put them in a cup or bag or whatever and draw blindly, or you can swirl them around in the vessel until one/some fall out.

if you don't feel like making your own or want something quick and easy, check out these tiles fritz drew up!

you could cut them out and just use them as is, or paste them onto pieces of wood/stone/whatever you like!

(btw fritz says y'all can feel free to screenshot and print these out to use)

whether or not you make your own tiles, below is a list of the interpretations for your divinatory usage!

INTERPRETATIONS:

Alpha: “The God [Apollo] says you will do everything successfully.” Your entire project will turn out well and you will meet all your goals. You will have good luck in all your activities, or prosperous business transactions and negotiations.

Beta: “With the help of Tychê, you will have an assistant, the Pythian [Apollo].” You are at a critical point, but if you are fortunate, Apollo the Far-shooter will help you if you call on Him. Even with luck, the God will only assist; ultimate responsibility is yours. “Pythian” refers to Apollo as the God at Delphi (which was in Pytho), one of the most important oracular sites. Therefore the help to be expected might be of a prophetic nature.

Gamma: “Gaia will give you the ripe fruit of your labors.” You will have a successful harvest, or you will reap all your profits from the Earth. The Mother of All will bring your labors to a fruitful conclusion. Gaia will give you your just deserts.

Delta: “In customs inopportune strength is weak.” Ill-timed force will be ineffective; act with precision; timing is everything. Knowing where and when to strike is more important than strength; misapplied ability is disability. Blind conformity to customs is spineless; overly strict adherence to rules is self-defeating. Unreasonable or undue force will defeat itself; a tyrant must fall.

Epsilon: “You desire to see the offspring of righteous marriages.” This is a statement of fact, not a command or prediction. The obvious meaning is that the querant wants children or grandchildren from suitable marriages. However, it can also mean he or she is in love with seeing this, that is, obsessed by the idea. The “rightness” of the marriage admits many interpretations; it could be a terrible marriage if that was fitting and righteous (i.e. deserved). The oracle may also refer to seeds, other than children, sown by the marriage (e.g. family alliances, marrying into wealth or influence). Finally, marriage may be taken metaphorically to refer to any alliance or union.

Zeta: “Flee the very great storm, lest you be disabled in some way.” Don’t make a sea-voyage in bad weather. It is futile to fight the force of the ocean; likewise, bucking the inevitable will weaken you and hinder your progress. Avoid raging storms of any kind; save your energy for when it can be effective. Sometimes flight is wiser than fight.

Eta: “Bright Helios, who watches everything, watches you.” The life-giving Sun will care for you. Helios is an enforcer of oaths and promises, and He knows the deceit in your heart.

Theta: “You have the helping Gods of this path.” The “way” may be a concrete road, a plan of action, a spiritual path, a way of life, etc. In any case, the Gods who oversee this way will help and defend you, so you may go forward with confidence; you are under divine care because you are following your destiny.

Iota: “There is sweat; it excels more than everything.” There will always be hard work; work is never done. Hard work is the surest means of success. When you have lost all other possessions, you still have your labor as an asset. The oracle recommends elbow-grease.

Kappa: “To fight with the waves is difficult; endure, friend.” In time, the force of ocean waves can grind down anything; they can be a metaphor for repetitive, unstoppable processes. It is difficult, dangerous, and painful to try to resist them; the sensible thing to do is to wait until they abate, or if that is impossible, then to endure the inevitable with courage.

Lambda: “The one passing on the left bodes well for everything.” Since the left is traditionally the sinister side, the oracle may mean that an apparently sinister thing or event may be a blessing in disguise. The left is also associated with the unconscious, lunar mind, and so unconscious processes or intuition may signal a favorable outcome. A promising sign comes from an unpromising quarter.

Mu: “It is necessary to labor, but the change will be admirable.” Through toil and distress a change will be made for the better. Hard work will result in a good return.

Nu: “The strife-bearing gift fulfils the oracle.” Something will be given (to you, by you, or from one to another) that brings strife with it; this will discharge the force of the oracle. The import seems to be that this gift will be the answer to the question asked of the oracle. So, for example, if the querant asked when something will happen, the gift is the sign that it’s immanent.

Xi: “There is no fruit to take from a withered shoot.” There is no good to be gained from an angry young man or woman. The frayed end of a good line. Harshness and stinginess will achieve nothing. You can’t get blood from a turnip; you can’t get water from a stone. Don’t polish a turd.

Omicron: “There are no crops to be reaped that were not sown.” What we spread about, comes back to us. What goes around comes around. You must plan ahead in order to achieve anything.

Pi: “Completing many contests, you will seize the crown.” If you persist in your struggles, after many trials you will succeed. Perseverance through adversity.

Rho: “You will go on more easily if you wait a short time.” If you will hold your ground for only a short time, you will be able to proceed (more easily or with greater cooperation). You will go faster by waiting than by going now; on the other hand, delaying too long may provoke reckless action. By standing fast you live recklessly. By remaining where you are, you live life thoughtlessly.

Sigma: “Phoibos [Apollo] speaks plainly, ‘Stay, friend.’” Neither advance nor retreat; wait or hold your ground, as appropriate; the best action is inaction. “Phoibos” refers to Apollo as Bright and Pure, which also characterizes His advice in this oracle.

Tau: “You will have a parting from the companions now around you.” This may be an unwelcome parting from friends or a welcome release from enemies; in either case they are now around you. This may also mean a growing apart or forced separation of a person from his or her family, peers or fellow travelers on the path.

Upsilon: “The affair holds a noble undertaking.” There is some issue to be resolved, or some deed is under consideration; it involves high-mindedness, either in commitment, deed, or professional pursuit. The oracle may tell us that the affair is admirable due to this noble element, or that the situation may guide us to seek the appropriate noble undertaking or profession. The hero’s quest. On the other hand, the oracle may mean that the situation hinders this fine undertaking. Thus you should try to understand the situation: does it demand an excellent undertaking or impede it.

Phi: “Having done something carelessly, you will thereafter blame the Gods.” Take responsibility for your actions (or inactions); don't blame the Gods (or the universe, or fate, or society, or nature) for your own failings. The ancient Greeks said, “Hermes will help you get your wagon unstuck, but only if you push on it.”

Khi: “Succeeding, friend, you will fulfill a golden oracle.” “Golden” may be a metaphor for rich, noble, excellent, etc. This admirable oracle will be fulfilled by you attaining your ends, or a mere chance meeting could constitute the golden event.

Psi: “You have this righteous judgment {Psêphos} from the Gods.” Literally, a psêphos is a stone used for divination, voting, counting, and similar purposes, so this oracle refers to collective judgment rather than individual judgment. This implies that the majority of the Gods concur in this judgment, and that this judgment is appropriate, fair, and righteous, though there is no implication that the result is that desired by the querant.

Omega: “You will have a difficult harvest season, not a useful one.” Concretely, there will be a poor harvest, or autumn will be difficult; the harvest will be too early, before the fruit is ripe. More abstractly, too early grasping of the fruits of your labor (whether voluntary or necessary) will yield a poor return; the rewards will not be suitable for their purpose. Your youth will be rough; you will have to grow up before your time.

SOURCES:

patheos.com

for the interpretations

[ofeliaxoxo]

https://www.tumblr.com/alexturntable/767486658181545984?source=share

if we're playing charlos i think we all need to talk about this again. what the fuck was this. why did charles decide to do this unprompted. the fact that he's presumably trying to 'fix' carlos' hair but really just makes the strands he's touching look more out of place like he goes back in a second time to fix the initial error but only causes more disarray. carlos just unselfconsciously openly staring at him as he does it. i still don't feel like i can accurately describe the look on his face in this moment but to me it's not like a Standard Carlos Expression you know. the very action Itself of charles touching carlos' hair unprompted which i don't think has been documented at any other point in time. the simultaneous smiles immediately after… cute! carlos' eyebrow wiggling to try to bring some levity to an otherwise Classic Unnecessarily Charged Charlos Moment. charles' intake of air smile dropping looking down fiddling with the hem of his shirt as he processes what he just did on camera and clearly short circuits about it.

the other part of this that is crazy to me is how it's still kind of the lightest of touches. because it's like personally if EYE was in that close proximity to carlos sainz's hair and had access to touching it without him minding (i don't know that he would particularly enjoy it or anything. but let's be real here if charles had at any point in their relationship felt inclined to do that and had actually acted on the urge carlos absolutely would have let him) you better believe i would be properly running my hands through it twisting it around my fingers tugging et cetera. now even if charles had actually wanted to do that is a puma photoshoot really the best most appropriate setting in which to do that to your teammate's hair of course not. but the restraint of his touch here kills me regardless (partly because restraint is also kind of inherently erotic. To Me.). it's like he couldn't help but touch but was like okay if i let myself do this only the barest brush of my fingers is allowed i will touch the fewest number of strands possible (which while admirable could not have been me fr i would've been so shameless about it). even in the monza track preview blindfold video when charles is just barely holding onto the little tufts of hair on the side of carlos' head i wanted to yell at him. Charles Leclerc you drive me crazy because what do you mean you had the precious opportunity to basically yank carlos sainz around by his hair and you didn't take full advantage of that to touch his hair as much as possible. the fact that charles never just fully went for it in four years……… a missed opportunity of epic proportions i fear. and it's not even like charles would've been introducing a New Physical Action to their dynamic or anything when carlos has gotten all up in charles' hair on camera in front of god and everyone else in the paddock on multiple occasions.

whatever this just kind of became me projecting my insane feelings about carlos' beautiful hair onto charles leclerc so my apologies to Charlie L for that i guess. i think i'm feeling particularly insane about it right now because i just saw the video of eva longoria (ohmygod btw. carlos sainz WHO he looked incredible and i was still barely looking at him in their cannes pictures together because she is soso beautiful) reaching out to ruffle his hair (https://x.com/mafiasainz/status/1922428049619812539). the way he just immediately acquiesces and bends so she can reach better……… he literally just met her (if i'm not wrong?) and he's already letting her do that to his hair… i am foaming at the mouth. I Don't Care Even If She'd Been A L'Oreal Ambassador For One Million Years It Still Should've Been Me Instead.

no this is truly a charlos moment of all time like absolute hall of fame because like...why tf would he do that. no one made him, it makes no sense, it's completely unnecessary and YET. he was Compelled. like hello

"it's like he couldn't help but touch but was like okay if i let myself do this only the barest brush of my fingers is allowed i will touch the fewest number of strands possible" YES. wanting to do it so badly that you HAVE to but still trying to sort of not do it at the same time. the simultaneous denial and satisfaction of desire.

and then with eva longoria she gets the hell up in there and he entirely lets her. he also does fully let charles but unlike charles eva feels no self consciousness whatsoever and just wants to feel that gorgeous mop she dgaf about being delicate. there's no charged sense of anything. in being delicate and not fully going for it charles accidentally creates a much more intimate atmosphere than eva, who sinks both hands completely into his hair unselfconsciously thus revealing that there is nothing for her to be self conscious about. charles's restraint IS erotic and her absolute lack of it conversely means there is no eroticism.

like the difference between the touches.... between carlos's reaction as well. for eva he's like ok hee hee feel my hair i am but a pleasant gentleman and then for charles he's like. let me stand stock still and gaze into your eyes.

i also always think about that track preview because carlos says his hair is not sensitive while charles says his is. So we've got carlos, who has declared he doesn't feel it much, absolutely getting up into charles's hair on multiple occasions, vs Charles who says his hair is sensitive absolutely NOT doing the reverse. so to extrapolate, touching someone's hair is Serious to him he feels it as an erotic act more so than carlos. He lightly touches Carlos's hair a couple times and experiences immediate cringe, while Carlos thinks nothing of it and ruffles the fuck out of him.

me when i feel incredibly normal about what i just did

vs me when i actually legit feel normal about what i just did

ultimately i LOVE carlos's hair as a point of desire for charles. in that meme reaction video when carlos is complaining about his haircut and charles just goes Your Hair ALWAYS looks - and trails off. his extremely tentative feeling of it...his delight in fucking with it in that track preview...his own sensitive hair....my charlos rpf will ALWAYS include Charles hair fixation

[pooks]

remember the AU where Ichiji eloped with Ace and they were pirate husbands? well, got a little something going on here where Marineford goes...differently

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Ichiji knew the second he left Germa's flagship, he would be branded a traitor. But for once in his life...he took control over his own fate. Niji and Yonji would be fine, Reiju assured him that. Contrary to popular thought, they weren't completely emotionless. Just manipulated.

And in their defense, they didn't understand what they did to Sanji until he was gone without a trace. No human can be born without emotions, no matter what Judge claimed. It was impossible. So what did the cruel king do, once he discovered his "perfect" sons weren't so perfect as he thought?

He "fixed" them. By punishing them.

Yonji lost his hands, replaced by cybernetic limbs. He couldn't feel with his hands anymore. Niji was blinded, forced to rely on goggles that allowed him to see.

Ichiji was next and Reiju knew it. Niji knew it and Yonji knew it. He was, by far, the hardest to break. He was steadfast and headstrong, refusing to bow down to a tyrrant. A hideous scar that covered his left eye, hidden by red sidebangs. A burnt scar in the shape of a large palm. It was pretty obvious what Judge did to him, but that did little to subdue him.

That was punishment for orchestrating Sanji's escape. Judge knew perfectly well that it was by Ichiji's design, letting him flee while they invaded Cozia in the East Blue. Only Ichiji would've known where the key to the iron helmet was. Only Ichiji had the actual key to the dungeon cell.

Reiju, Niji and Yonji pushed Ichiji to escape because they understood that Ichiji would die if he kept resisting. They had already lost one brother. They couldn't lose another one.

Ichiji ran away at age 15 and apparently, he met a pirate on his first mission outside Germa and eloped with him. It didn't take long for newspapers to pick that up, once the couple were discovered in a seedy bar at some lawless, backwater island with wedding rings and all.

It was the scandal of the decade; Germa's crown prince eloped with a lowly pirate and they were both men.

Judge was furious. But Sora, bless her soul, would've been so proud.

---

Ah, sea prism stone...

The wonders of it.

And Ichiji thanked his brilliant mind for commissioning that sword. The blade was purely made of sea prism stone and yet, it was long and elegant. His faithful Éclipse, swung without hesitation and cut off the fist of magma that aimed for his husband's back.

He had no remorse, no doubt in his mind and Ichiji looked down at Aikainu with his cold, blue eyes. He literally looked down at him, as if he saw something revolting and disgusting on the ground like a cockroach, before a cruel smirk grew on his features.

Ichiji was called many things. Traitor, bastard, monster, demon, filthy pirate...

Hellspawn.

The devil's son.

His bounty increased in numbers after their escape.

---

Ace was alive, thanks to Ichiji's intervention, but his back would be scarred for the rest of his life. Similar to Luffy, who also had gotten a scar from the Marine made of lava.

The two brothers were still recovering at Amazon Lily. Ichiji was mostly unharmed, but he sat still as he silently guarded his husband. His sword Éclipse rested next to him. Most people always eyed it wearily, knowing it was the sword with a sea prism blade. It cut down a Marine Vice Admiral's arm with zero hesitation. Word spread across the Four Blues about him, calling him "the devil's son from North".

Ichiji didn't care, as long as his husband and his brother were alive.

----

He never expected to see Sanji ever again.

But here they were. Underwater of all things.

He and Ace hitched a ride with the Straw Hats to Fish Man Island, they were hoping to meet with Jinbei.

"No man is born without emotions, not even with the best science in the world." Ichiji said as he sat on the railing, looking out to the underwater sight. "I should kill Judge."

"No, you shouldn't." Sanji protested. "Killing people doesn't solve anything."

"In this case, it does. Niji and Yonji can't escape Germa, even if they want to. Not even Reiju can leave on her own accord."

Sanji swallowed. "What did he take?" He was nearly afraid of the answer.

"Niji's sight. Yonji's hands. Reiju's free will." Ichiji answered without hesitation. "He couldn't break me, no matter what he did. I kept fighting back, like a caged animal." A sinister smile grew on his lips. "He put the iron helmet on you and I gave him a long scar across his face." He tutted. "I was sloppy, I aimed for the eyes."

There was a hitch in Sanji's breath. "Why?" He whispered. There were no need for that, since they were the only ones awake right now. The rest of the crew, and Ace, were all partied out. The only other person awake was the mosshead, who was on watch and trained himself into a sweaty mess in the crow's nest. "Why would you go so far? Why did you do it?"

Ichiji leaned backwards. "I promised Mother on her deathbed to protect you in every way I could. I went far and beyond to make sure you would escape." He told his younger brother. "I knew she was dying, so I came to see her one last time...that night before she died." The memory still made his heart ache and his eyes to sting, as if it was only yesterday. "I expected her to see a monster by her side. She said I was still her baby. She made me promise to save your life, even if it meant I could never see you again. I gave my word and I kept it."

They stayed like that for a while longer, in complete silence.

"When did you escape from Germa?" Sanji asked and blew out a puff of smoke.

"Fifteen years old. I met Ace on my first mission outside Germa." He answered and sighed. "I can't really explain it, but for some reason...it felt as if I was meant to meet him, to follow him and to always stay by his side. Like he was the missing puzzle piece to my soul. I just took his hand when he asked me to run away with him, he told me that I could be a free man, do anything I wished. I believed him. I must've been desperate to live...to believe him and putting my life in his hands."

"...I'm glad you did."

Droplets hit the surface of the railing and Ichiji saw that his little brother was crying.

He has always had such a bleeding heart.

Ichiji jumped down from the railing, landing his feet on the grassy lawn, and walked towards his brother. "Come here." He opened his arms, wrapping them around Sanji's shoulders. "Twelve years later and you're still a crybaby."

"Your fault." Sanji mumbled, half-mad and half-happy. But he didn't push him away and let himself being embraced. It made him feel...warm and light. "I always wanted a big brother."

"I am here. A bit late, but here."