#amplified fear of getting mocked and made fun of

[goodnightwindy]

i do often think abt how much of my image id need to change to be a content creator.....

[kittyfrisk9]

IdeaDpxDc: A nice moment with a sleep demon.

Note: Sorry, I don't know English, so please use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.

Dead On Main.

---

Danny accidentally absorbed some of Nocturn's powers (like in the Vortex episode), and now, with these new temporary abilities, why not take advantage of them? Like a kid with a new toy, Danny (or should I say Phantom: with a new design) has fun every night going from dream to dream.

The dream world is so strange! Without the constant threat of a dream entity trying to take over the world and all that. Now he has fun exploring the most unusual parts of his classmates' subconscious, or anyone's in general.

Even though he knows he shouldn't be doing this (after all, he's a responsible adult now), spying on other people's dreams isn't exactly something a mature person would do.

On the other hand, Danny is the responsible adult; Phantom is the one who uses his new powers recklessly. Plus, no one in Gotham knows who Phantom is, and at the end of the day, he's not hurting anyone. Point in his favor!

It was all fun and games… until he felt it: the unpleasant taste of a nightmare, distressing and desperate. Phantom knows he has to intervene, because, unlike Nocturn, he does not delight in the suffering of others.

So he goes. And what he sees shocks him.

Resonant laughter of a psychopath, the constant pain of flesh being beaten, and the devastating reminder that no one came to help. Phantom doesn't just see it, he feels it. Gross. What is this? Why would anyone be hurting a child? Then he understands: this is not just a nightmare, it's a memory, and someone is suffering from reliving it.

He absolutely will not allow this nightmare to continue.

...

Jason hasn't been having good days lately, mostly because instead of going to therapy, he's chosen to sweep his trauma under the rug and aggressively throw himself into crime-fighting. He's not good at dealing with his emotions, especially when he's been tormented by the same damn nightmare over and over again.

He knows the script by heart, he knows how it will end, but he still feels the same fear as the first time.

His head hurts.

"No, not again," he thinks in terror. Once again, he's tied up, unable to move or call for help. It's colder than he remembers. The walls have a grotesque tint, with laughter written in every corner. But the worst thing is the silence… until the sound of clashing metal begins to resonate.

Everything is a thousand times worse. He's sure the original scenario wasn't like this, but his terrified mind refuses to accept it.

The metallic sound resonates louder, each crash rumbling in Jason's chest. His breathing quickens, and then he hears it: that laugh.

A deep, distorted echo of laughter that seems to come from every direction. The laughter snakes around the grotesque walls, filled with the same letters that repeat his agony. “Ha… ha… ha…” fills the air, louder with each invisible step that approaches.

Then, he appears.

It’s not the Joker he remembers from that fateful night. This one is worse. Bigger, more deformed, with a smile that seems to tear at his own face. The colors of his suit are darker, more twisted. It’s as if his mind has amplified him, made him more monstrous.

“My, my, how little Robin has grown? But… something remains the same, doesn’t it? No matter how many times you live it, it always ends the same way. And to think that you were my greatest work of art!”

His voice is mocking, but behind the mockery is pure cruelty, a wicked amusement that lights up in those crazy eyes.

The Joker leans towards Jason, his face invading the small distance between them. The sound of metal continues to echo, and Jason knows what's coming next.

"Oh, I almost forgot…" he says, pulling out of nowhere an iron crowbar that gleams in the dim light of the nightmare. "It wouldn't be a good memory without this, would it?"

That's when the pain begins. Jason doesn't want to scream, and he won't. Even though that abominable creature is just a representation of his killer, he won't give him the luxury of listening to him suffer. The blows continue, and Jason bites his tongue. It's just a nightmare, it's not real… it's not real.

It's not real.

It's not real.

It's not-

"Hey… Are you okay?" he hears him ask. His shocked gaze turns to where the clown should be and discovers that he's gone. In his place, there's a handsome young man: short, slightly messy black hair, expressive purple eyes, and a body almost completely shrouded in dark shadows.

The mysterious man had a cosmic air about him, surrounded by a mix of special effects of stars and galaxies. Something magical.

And new.

Jason honestly doesn't know what he's seeing, or why he's seeing it. "What?" he says, unable to find another word to describe his situation.

The entity laughs at his stunned state, a reassuring echo very different from the joker's laughter. Then he snaps his fingers, and suddenly he's no longer in that ugly room. He's now in a field of flowers, beautiful and vibrant, looking out at a starry sky.

Okay, this is the part where he asks his brain how he went from being in a nightmare to being with a handsome guy under the stars, hands free and untethered.

"Relax, you're not crazy," the being says as he lies back in the grass. “You were in pain, and I didn’t like it, so I got you out of there. Don’t worry, that abomination won’t bother you again.”

Jason blinks twice, bewildered, not understanding anything. “You… saved me?”

“You could say yes.”

“Why?” He shakes his head. “No, wait, that’s not the question. Who…?” Looking back at the being, he decides to change his question: “What are you?”

He seems to have taken the being by surprise.

It clasps its hands together as it looks up at the sky, trying to act normal. Jason narrows his eyes. “You can call me Void.”

“Did you just make up that name?”

The being looks away, seemingly embarrassed at being found out. “Yeah…” And suddenly exclaims, “Ah, ancients! I'm not supposed to be doing this, much less with one of the bats."

That last sentence had given away more than it should have.

"Hey, how about we admire the night view and then pretend this never happened?" Void suggested with a hopeful smile, turning to Jason.

Maybe it was the soft scent of the flowers, the calm atmosphere, or just the tiredness after so many nights of endless nightmares, but Jason, without thinking too much about it, walked over, lay down next to Void on the grass, and said, "No."

He needed a break.

...

And that's how Jason befriended a dream demon. And how Danny pretended to be a dream demon until Nocturn's powers wore off. He couldn't let the bats find out his identity.

After that, they spent more time together, fell in love, there was drama and there was closure. In the middle of all that, Danny started having tea with Alfred in the dream world, and at other times, he had fun bothering the other bats in their dreams.

But that's another story.

---

Note: Sorry, I don't know English, so please use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.

Part 2

[diavolosthots]

Could i request some short hcs with the demon bros and an mc who stutters, I understand if not, I hope you're having a good day!!

I really hope I did this request justice. I dont stutter but i am a dumbass who speaks too fast and trips over her words so theres that

THE BROTHERS with an MC who stutters

Lucifer:

At the VERY beginning, like, the moment you two met and maybe… a little while after that until he realized you’re cool, he found it really annoying. Like, why can’t you get out what you’re trying to say? In all honesty, he may have also taken it as fear at first which made him feel better inside than it should have but he’s kind of over that part now. After learning that it’s not fear and you kind of do it involuntarily, he felt something along the lines of… adorableness? The stuttering made you that much more innocent, in his eyes, and he loves innocence. It’s adoring to him and makes him want to protect you. 

Mammon:

10/10 mocked you the first time you guys met. Now, back then he was obviously annoyed that he was your designated babysitter, but the stuttering just made you such an easy target, too! Obviously, he felt bad after a while, especially if it really upset you and now he’s running around with a huge chunk of guilt and it’s just not fun, ya know? So, he did what any good demon would do and actually, albeit indirectly, apologized. And after that he vowed to teach anyone who made fun of your stuttering a lesson. No one messes with his MC!!! And yes, he gets quite overprotective. 

Leviathan:

He felt… drawn to you, if that makes sense? He tends to sometimes stutter as well, although his is more out of nervousness. Honestly, he may even have made fun of you like once or twice but he really does know how wack it is to not get things out of your mouth “normally” be it because of nervousness or involuntarily. He doesn’t like seeing you struggle, either, and he’s started doing this little thing where he will shift into his demon form for a quick moment and just stroke your back with his tail but if you turn or catch him, he’s quick to shift back out of embarrassment.

Satan:

Ah yes, he also made fun of you. It also took him a long time to stop making fun of you. For a while, you were his #1 prank target because your reactions and stuttering made it so fun, but… he began to think. How terrible must it be to have so many thoughts and words on your tongue and you’re unable to get them out clearly? Sure, people will understand you, but not many people will respect you. It makes him… sad. He’s actually feeling bad for you and… he stopped. He stopped the pranks and he gives you the time now, to talk and to think, because everyone deserves to be heard. 

Asmodeus:

He always found it adorable. Maybe it’s because he thought you were nervous and why would you be nervous around him? Or maybe it’s because you’re slightly uncomfortable, but no worries, Asmo comes to the rescue! He would never make fun of you but you can bet your ass that he will try to… amplify your stuttering? If that makes sense? He’s literally swooning over it and you’ll be showered in love for it. 

Beelzebub:

In all honesty, he’s slightly there with Lucifer in the sense that it was annoying to listen forever for you to get your word out BUT that annoyance lasted a day, tops. He actually felt bad for you because demons are ruthless and the people at RAD weren’t always nice so he made sure to stick by you as much as he could to keep you away from any bullies. He’s also so open to just helping you finish a sentence? Or he forces the other party to listen until you finish because hot damn baby you deserve that much respect. 

Belphegor:

Oh yeah he also made fun of you, probably called you a broken record. Much like Satan, you became his target. But, the good thing about Belphegor is that he gets bored fairly easily so his bullying of you didn’t last long. And once he developed feelings? Boy oh boy you might want to watch out; he’s after everyone that makes fun of you. Sassy remarks, snarky comments, tripping them down the stairs… Nowadays there’s also something comforting about the stuttering.. He sees it as getting to hear your voice a lot more because you stutter on certain words, meaning you have to stick around longer to explain yourself… if that makes sense? 

[always-against-the-grain]

farewell

Summary: You meet someone from Negan’s life. Continuation of thirds

Pairing: AU Negan x reader ((female, named Eddie) and others)

Tags: AU Negan, Negan smut, Negan x reader, rough-ish smut

A/N: no proof read. we die like men. also hella long

Your farewell party was towards its end. Only a few of your friends and family members remained.

You were hanging out by the bonfire sipping on your seltzer.

You glanced over at Negan who was congregating with other adults. He was preoccupied with his phone. He typed a messaged and slide it back into his front pocket before saying goodbye to your dad.

“Hey, Klaus, I’m gonna head out” he said giving him a hand shake and half a hug

“We’ll see you” your dad said

“Bye Frankie, thank you” he gently shook your moms hand with both hands

“Anytime” your mom said gracefully

Negan then approached you across the yard, “Eddie. Good luck out there”

He gave you a very appropriate hug, contradicted by what he whispered in your ear, “Come for your gift later. Back door is unlocked”

You had to have a another piece of him before you left for another semester.

—————————

Once the party died down and your folks slipped into bed, you hopped the fence to Negan’s yard.

You came through the back door. Trying to be quiet, knowing the night hours amplified every sound.

After you slid the glass door shut you turned to face the room and noticed a woman standing in his kitchen fixing a drink.

You locked eyes with her. Your heart dropped to your belly.

“I- uh- I’m sorr-“ you began explaining, stepping backwards, your arm blindly searching behind for the door handle.

“Relax Eddie. Negan said you’d be stopping by” her voice surprisingly calming.  

She walked around the corner of the island, two glasses in hand. Your heart pumped harder with every click of her heels. You couldn’t help but notice how her navy blue pant suit hugged her lower half perfectly. Her white blouse teasingly revealing her chest.  

As the distance closed between you you admired her facial features. Sharp jaw, crisp eyebrows, and an average nose on warm ivory skin.

You watch her full long lips move in slow motion “Whisky or wine?”

“Uh- Whiskey” you said softly after the words registered.

“Good, cause I’m Italian” she laughed and handed you your drink.

I can’t be sober right now you advised yourself, and immediately took a swig, keeping a stoic expression as the alcohol burned your throat.

“Whoa! Didn’t even flinch!” she commented.

“Comn lets have a seat” she said as a gentle hand pushed you towards the living room couch.

You sat anxiously. Elbows on your knees, sweaty palms clutching your glass tumbler.

She sat more comfortably, leaned back, her outside leg crossed over her other, and torso rotated to face you.

Before she started any conversation you blurted out, “who are you?”

“You probably should have asked the sooner. Stranger danger, y’know” she joked.

“But who you do you think I am?” She asked curiously. Taking a sip of her wine.

“Uh, I think you’re the main lady, and I’m a home wrecker and I shouldn’t be here” you took another gulp of your drink, trying to dilute your fear.

“Well, I am the other lady-“

Oh god. You immediately brought the drink back to your mouth, but her hand tapped yours, keeping you from drinking too quickly.

“But I know who you are. And you’re not a home wrecker. Negan is my partner and I’m his, and we’re open”

Relief washed over you.

“You know you could’ve have led with that. Not this ‘I am the main lady’ shit” you mocked her, your defenses quickly falling with the new information.

“I know, but you just seemed fun to play with” she giggled.

“I’m Diana”

“So, Diana, Negan has told you about me huh” you were a bit embarassed. Not knowing what negan shared exactly.

Did he tell her you just had sex or did he provide details? Did he tell her how he fucked you in your bathroom with company right outside? Or how he held you down and came on your face?

“Yes. He has”

There was a short streak of silence before you spoke again, “How do you do that?”

She finished her sip, softly smacking her tongue on the roof of her mouth to savor her wine, before clarifying your question, “Do what hon?”

“Be with other people?” You sought guidance on your own relationship

“Well for one, we trust and respect each other. And we’re honest. So it’s not cheating.”

“When one of us sleeps with someone else we tell each other, get tested. And teach other new tricks” She smiled mischievously before taking another sip of her wine.

“But it’s not for everyone” she added when she saw your not so eager expression

You nodded, really listening to what she had to say.

“So how’d you meet?” You asked leaning back.

“I’ve known Negan for years actually. But we didn’t start a relationship until a year and some months ago.”

“I’m a physical therapist and I was working with one of his athletes after ACL reconstruction. And he stopped by well into her rehab program - with her parents of course - to clarify what she could and couldn’t do during practice. So I met negan then, that was about 8 years go”

“I’ve worked with a couple other of his athletes since then. He joins an appointment once in a while to check in on restrictions”

“But the first time we dated was after we ran into each other at a bar. He had just lost his wife and I was fresh off a divorce. We were there for eachother, emotionally... physically.”

“Though we didn’t last the first time. We were on and off again for like a year. We couldn’t stay loyal. We eventually found our way back, when we realized we couldn’t stay loyal to other people either.” She laughed.

“And here we are. Together, happy, understood.”

You nodded, getting a bigger picture of the situation.

“Where is Negan by the way?” You looked over the couch thinking he was hiding somewhere

“He went out to get some wine” she swirled her empty glass before setting it on the table

“Told him to re-stock before I got here. But he didn’t listen. Tells me he was a little busy.”

You knew that comment was a shot at you

Before you could respond you both heard the open and looked over the back of the couch to see negan walk in with a brown bag.

“Hey Eddie! You’re here!” He said excitedly un-phased by his girlfriend sitting next to you.

He walked over to you both

“Hey Dee” greeting her with a soft kiss

It looked so natural.

“Got your favorite,” he gestured at the wrapped bottle, lifting it slightly.

Negan walked into his kitchen and began prepping his glass.

“I’ll get you a refill” Diana tapped your thigh as she stood up and walked with both glasses to Negan.

You heard a quiet conversation between them and thought it best to leave.

“Hey, so I’m gonna head out” you stood up, “nice meeting you,” you gestured awkwardly.

“What! Eddie no, you gotta open your gift first” Negan said while pouring wine into the the two glasses.

“Ah, thanks negan, I’m sure it can wait—“

“Eddie.” Diana interjected.

She walked toward to you, until she was mere inches away. She was shorter than Negan but taller than you. Even without the heels you were sure she’d still have 3-4 inches on you.

“Are you sure you wanna leave?” She lightly put her hands on your hips.

You looked toward Negan. He just casually took a sip of his wine. Then It clicked.

She was your gift.

Your silence was enough for her. She slowly leaned in, giving you an opportunity to pull away.

Your soft lips met hers.

God it felt different. You wouldn’t say better than Negan or other men, but something about kissing this beautiful, grown woman was quenching something you didn’t know you were thirsty for.

Your alcohol infused tongues exchanges flavors but it didn’t stop you from continuing.

Diana pulled away. Too soon for your liking.

“Can I take this off?” She toyed with zipper of your hoodie.

You were completely underdressed but you didn’t expect an encounter with a professional woman. You expected a quick, hard farewell fuck.

You swallowed audibly.

“Yes,” your voice cracked slightly.

You weren’t wearing a bra. Your breasts immediately shifted outside your clothing as your zipper opened up. Her hands dragged up along your ribs, her touch trigged goosebumps causing your nipples to perk up.

“I like these,” she said kissing you again as her fingers pinched your pierced buds. Harder than you expected, not painful, but her force caused your mouth fall open breaking the contact with your lips.

She laughed, proud but not surprised that she was making you act like this. She brought her lips back to continue kissing you.

With your eyes closed, tongue busy, your hands reached to untuck her blouse. Her hands stopped their mannerisms on your nipples and gripped your wrists and pushed them away

“Nuh-uh” she rejected your actions.

Her hands till wrapped around your wrists, she walked you backwards to the couch you were just sitting on. Diana went down to her knees. She leaned to kiss your navel, simultaneously undoing your jean button. She kissed up your abdomen, between your breast. As more of her body made contact with you, your hips began grinding up.

She took a nipple into her mouth. Sucking on it before lightly biting it.

“Ahh” you moaned as she hooked her teeth on your horizontal jewelry and pulled  up - how negan had done the first time.

They definitely exchanged notes. She switched to the other nipple and did the same.

“Take these off” she gripped the hem of your pants.

You lifted your hips of the couch and she helped pull them through your legs. Exposing your wet pussy to her.

“Look at that” she brought her fingers to your womanhood and spread your juices.

You looked down the middle of your chest, Diana between your legs.

Without warning Diana sucked on you clit. Swirling her toungue around it at the same time.

“Oh god!” You whined “fuck!”

She started softly and quickly increased her suction causing you to squirm. Diana swooped her hands under your knees to pin your lower half open to her. Her force spreading your legs was comfortable, enough to limit your movements but not stretching you to your limits as most men would do.

She stopped completely. Pissing you off a little.

“You wanna come?” She asked, already knowing your answer

You nodded.

She returned her mouth to your center. Sticking her tongue out, her eyes locked on yours. She barely flicked your nerve bundle with just the tip.

“Ughhh” escaped you wantonly, your pelvis pushing towards her mouth.

She flicked it little more roughly every subsequent time until she had your whole clit back between her lips. Her tongue working harder than before.

“Mmmhhh!” You groaned intensely. Biting some of the fabric of your hoodie that you were still wearing.

“Oh god- Oh god” you moaned louder and squirmed harder.

Diana’s had to force you down more. “Ugh! Fu- fu- I’m gon—“

“Motheerfuckker!” Both hands pulled downward on the open waistband of your hoodie while your back extended - so much thought it was gonna snap

You rode out your orgasm, instinctively grinding your pussy on Diana’s mouth.

Your eyes closed as your chest continued to rise and fall heavily. Diana gave one of your inner thigh light pecks before releasing your knees from her grasp. She came up to your lips, her hands using the back of the couch as leverage, then you tasted yourself on her tongue.

“You’re beautiful Eddie” she whispered to you.

“Does she always come that hard?” She asked Negan, who you had forgotten was in the room.

“Hardest I’ve seen her” Negan said.

“Though, she’s always sensitive afterwards, which you know I like” he smiled

Diana looked at your eyes, and unexpectedly brought her soft fingers back down to your clit.

You automatically crossed your legs and tried to flip over under Diane.

Both Negan and Diana giggled. You followed suit, really having enjoyed your present.

“That’s cute Eddie” Diana commented on your reaction, sucking on your neck before getting up to walk over to Negan.

Negan handed her a second glass of wine and your whiskey glass.

Diana passed the drink on to you. You took a small swig and set it down on the table and reached for your pants on the floor.

Negan and Diane began kissing each other passionately, not minding your taste between them.

The smacking of their tongues and lips echoed softly.

You pulled your jeans up your thighs with your hoodie remaining unzipped.

Diana noticed you prepared to exit and stopped her kiss with Negan, and tilted her head towards you.

Negan turned to you, “What do you think you’re doing?”

You had a blank stare as your hands froze with your hoodie zipped halfway.

“We’re not done with you sweetheart” Diana added

“She means, there’s more to your present” Negan smiled

“Grab your drink” Diana said as she walked over and pulled on the strings of your hoodie, leading you towards the stairs.

You finished your whiskey as you walked up the stairs, before entering the familiar room.

Diana grabbed the empty glass from you hand and set it on Negan’s dresser along with her half full glass.

Diana led you the bed, “sit.”

she began undressing you from your two garments until you laid completely naked under her. She kissed you and rubbed her clothed body against yours.

Your hands were on her hips encouraging her movements. You attempted to untuck her blouse ignoring your failed attempt downstairs. She didn’t restrict you this time. You pulled her shirt from her waist band and unbuckled her thin belt. Diana stopped her actions to unbotton her blouse and tossed it to the side before resuming to kiss you.

“Dirty girls” you heard Negan enter the room. You could swear you felt your pussy release more fluids at the sound of his voice.

You propped yourself on your elbows and witnessed Negan remove his black shirt and kick off his boots. Diana hopped off you to remove her pants, leaving her in a lacey, beige bra and underwear set.

Negan stepped to kiss Diane, and unclipped her bra. He gripped her breast and eventually her ass and pushed her front against his.

“Mmhhh” Negan groaned when Diana broke the kiss and sucked on his neck down his chest, while a free hand rubbed him through his black Levi’s.

It turned you on, and you did something you never thought you would do.

You brought your hand to your womanhood and began touching yourself, feeing how wet your really were.

“Enjoying the view?” Negan commented.  

Embarrassment coursed through your blood, and you removed your hand.

“Don’t stop” Negan said, “keep playing with yourself darling.”

“Let go” Diana added, kissing down Negan’s abdomen

You brought your hand back to pleasure yourself. Circling your clit with alternating pressure.

Negan unbuckled his belt, and let his member free, pulling his pants to mid-glute.

Diana sensually sucked the head of his cock, Negan tossed his head back. She dragged her tongue from the underside of his base back to the tip. Eventually, taking him entirely into her mouth.

“Agh!” Negan reacted to the deep throat, “that’s it baby. Fuck!”

The sounds of gargling and slobber coming from her pleasuring him brought you closer to the edge. You began rubbing her clit faster, building up release.

Negan caught you getting close.

“Don’t come Eddie.” He said in between breathes, “wait for us”

You were so close but figured that what they would give you would bring more pleasure than what you could give yourself. You willed yourself to stop.

Diana popped off Negan’s dick and came to kneel next to your torso, head opposite of yours. Negan removed his pants and dragged you closer to edge of the mattress.

His long middle finger pushed easily into your wet entrance

“Mmhhh” escaped you.

He pumped his digit in and out while Diana rubbed your clit.

Negan removed his finger and brought his member to your center.He dragged it through your folds, teasing you. Your eyes alternating between Negan’s facial expressions and his cock.

“Fuck” you dropped your head back, desperate to feel him inside you.

“You’re right, Negs, not very patient” Diana laughed, lightly smacking your clit a few times, causing you to jolt in spontaneous directions.

“That’s what makes her fun” Negan explained, continuing to tease you with his manhood.

“Cause she’ll eventually-” one more drag of cock against you...

���Give in!” He pushed himself entirely into you.

“Ughhhh!” you moaned

Negan stilled inside you, you walls beating against him. He leaned down to kiss you, his hips making zero movements.

With his mouth still on yours he pulled out halfway and gave you one hard and fast pump, causing you jaw to open and break the kiss

“What did I tell you about punching above your weight class?” He said rhetorically

“And tonight, there’s two of us” He laughed

He stood back up and began pushing in and out of you at a moderate pace. Diana continued to rubbed your nerve bundle.

“Harder, please” you asked

“Patience” Diana reminded you

“Oh, shell learn patient after this” Negan warned.

He picked up the pace and your release was closer than ever. Especially with Diana working your clit perfectly.

“She’s close” Negan announced.

Diana brought her lips to yours. Negan fucked your harder and faster, you could feel his balls push against you, and the slapping sounds confirmed it.

Your moans were captured by Diana’s mouth.

“She’s gonna come” Negan said through his gritted teeth.

“Fuck!” You yelled into Diana’s kiss, you felt yourself come undone.

You tried to pull your lips away but Diana held you head in place to continue kissing you.

Negan slowed down his pace slightly after your orgasm but didn’t stop. Neither did Diana’s hand.

“Oh god! Fuck! Fuck! Ne— ple—“ You werent able to escape her kiss.

You tried to remove Diana’s hand from your pussy but she pinned it down. So you tried to pushed away from Negan further up the bed, but he pulled your hips closer to his.

You tightly closed your eyes, a few more seconds went by and you felt a second release. You heard gushing sounds matching Negan’s thrusts and felt your thighs becoming wet.

Negan slowed down and remained inside you, as your lower body twitched and squirmed.

“I knew wed get her to squirt” Negan said before celebrating with a kiss from Diana.

“You okay Eddie?” Negan asked still slowly pumping himself into you.

You nodded, your face covered by your crossed forearms.

“Good”

He flipped your over, legs hanging off the edge, and he picked up the pace once more.

You tried to use the sheets to get gain some distance between your sensitive pussy and negans thick cock.

“No, you don’t” he pulled you back.

You felt wetness over your puckered hole, followed by a finger. Your glutes contracted involuntary.

“Relax” Diana tried to soothe you, “relax for me”

Negan slowed down. You a deep breathe in between thrusts and we’re able to relax a bit more.

Diana inserted one of her fingers in your anus and wiggled it inside you, Negan picked up speed again.

“Oh, already?” Negan exclaimed.

“I know you’re there honey” Negan knowing your were close, “Let us have it!”

“Oh fuckkkk” another orgasm hitting you Followed by a small release of extra fluids.

Negan leaned over your back and sucked on your shoulder and neck before congratulating you “Good job baby, you just might be able to go the rounds”

“Aghhh” you moaned into the bed as he pushed slowly and deeper a few more times.

Negan pulled entirely out of you, your walls pulsating every so often recovering from your intense orgasms.

“Aghhh” you let out softly as you felt Diana’s finger exit your picked hole.

Negan stepped into his bathroom to dry off a bit.

During this intermission, you brought your legs onto the bed, to lay on your side, facing Diana.  

You reached between your tighs to inspect your wetness. Maybe it was all in your head.

“Was that your first time?” Diana asked

“Um, yeah...”

“I’m sor—“ you were caught of guard when she brought your fingers into her mouth to suck on them.

You were mesmerized by her actions

She finished, chuckled, and smiled at you, “What were you sorry for?”

“Um, the—“ You stuttered pointing at the wet stains on the comforter “-the sheets”

“Don’t be sorry. I expect messes from dirty girls” Negan said returning.

“And you’re a dirty girl” he spanked you ass and firmly rubbed it after.

Diana positioned you face up and straddled you. She leaned to kiss you as Negan gripped Diana’s hips and entered her.

He pushed inside her more delicately than he’d ever done with you. You saw Diana’s eye lids flutter with pleasure at her lovers intrusion.

“Ah, Fuck” she moaned into your neck.

Negan fucked Diana on top you. He alternated speed, building up her climax while holding back his own.

While pumping into her, Diana whispered to you, “Touch me”

Frozen by her request you did nothing.

“Touch me” she repeated, reaching for one of your hands that rested on the outside of her thighs.

She brought your hand to her center. You hesitantly began rubbing her.

“That’s it Eddie” she encouraged you “just like that”

Your fingers occasionally bumped into Negan’s dick that was entering and exiting Diana.

Negan leaned over and whispered to Diana, “I need to come now”

Diana turned her neck over to give him a kiss of approval.

Negan snaked his hand in Diana’s hair and pulled harshly, followed by a playful yelp from Diana.

Negan began jackmhammering into her, making growling sounds that never left his throat.

“Ughh” both moaned, coming at the same time, on top of you.

Negan let go of Diana’s hair, and her body weight rested on you. Negan continued to slowly pumping himself in Diana as he softened.

He eventually exited her and flopped himself on the bed next you and Diana, catching his breath.

As Diana reached between her legs, you felt Negan’s cum drip from Diana’s pussy onto yours.

Diana collected some of Negan’s release on her fingers and brought them to your mouth.

You opened and sucked on them. Not breaking eye contact.

“Do you like the taste of me and my boyfriend?”

You nodded, her fingers still in your mouth.

Diana slid off you, to sandwich you between herself and Negan.

“So when are you back from school?” Diana asked.

“Christmas” you said through a yawn.

“We’ll have to get you another presents then”

Your stomach fluttered at her words as the three of you drifted to sleep, limbs stacked upon each other.

[ymiwritesstuff]

Hi! I saw your requests are open and I could definitely use some Kakyoin lovin, so could I slide ya a lil idea? What about Kakyoin saves reader from an attack and she gives him a heat of the moment kiss as a thanks. And then gets all embarrassed cuz it was super impulsive and she just kissed her crush and then comes clean about it? 🥺

Awww this is ADORABLE!! I had so much fun with this, I hope it came out the way you were hoping, Anon. Thanks for the request and please enjoy!

Action of Gratitude

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Part 3: Stardust Crusaders

Noriaki Kakyoin x Fem!Reader

Summary: A seemingly normal stroll around the foreign city quickly turns dangerous with no hope in sight.

Notes: Minor swearing

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” The red-haired teen asked, tiny specks of worry glimmering in his lavender eyes. You smile at him, finding his concern rather adorable as he was always looking out for everyone in the group.

“Don’t worry, Nori. I just have to go grab a few things from the shop. I’m sure it won’t take long,” you replied, his gaze immediately easing a bit as your words reached his ears, a pleasant smile appearing on his lips. “Besides, I’m not like certain someone who always gets in trouble with the enemy when he wanders around a foreign city on his own.” Your eyes immediately glance at the silver-haired Frenchman who you had been referring to and judging by his and everyone else’s expression, they had understood what your slightly sarcastic but playful sentence meant. Polnareff was quick to defend himself.

“Hey! It’s not my fault I get attacked all the time!” A small laugh escapes your lips at his words as you turn to momentarily leave the group to do your shopping. “I’ll be back in a bit, don't you dare leave without me.” The tone in your voice is playful and it gets a few laughs and eye rolls as a response as you begin your little adventure.

The shop wasn’t far away, but you had to be careful as the attacks from the enemy had increased in numbers lately. What you said about Polnareff was merely a joke, but at the same time, it reminded everyone about the risks involved. No one knew what kind of a stand would try to deter you next, and the thought admittedly scared you. The last thing you wanted was to see someone get badly injured. Especially Kakyoin.

Something about him was pulling you in like a magnet. Perhaps it was his calm and collected demeanor or his unrelenting desire to help in any way he could, you weren’t sure, but there was definitely something in him that made your heart race and stomach twist. In addition, his good looks definitely amplified the feelings of affection.

You had held onto these feelings for quite some time. They developed gradually as you witnessed his personality and skills in battle, which gave you a better understanding of who he really was. He was a diligent young man who put others before himself, a trait which you respected greatly. He had gone through a lot, with the vicious flesh bud and all, which made you feel bad for him. And yet, he bounced back and became a valuable member of the team. Perhaps that’s what caused your attraction. He had a strong spirit that refused to give up and fought valiantly when danger appeared.

However, there was a cloud of uncertainty and despair above your head, as you weren’t at all certain if he held the same kind of feelings towards you. You tried not to give yourself too much hope, but as the journey progressed, you found yourself more and more attached to him. It frustrated you to an extent and a part of you just wanted to come clean to him even if it meant you might look like an utter fool.

Suddenly, in the midst of walking through an empty alley that was shielded from the bright sunshine, something shot at you from the shadows at a high speed. Your eyes quickly locked onto the blurry speck that traveled towards you and you tried to dodge, but whatever was flying towards you managed to hit your wrist and pulled it to the hard ground. That’s when you felt the sticky substance on your wrist that mercilessly held you on the ground with no signs of letting you go. This was bad.

You immediately summon your stand and try to pry your hand free, which quickly proves to be a terrible decision as soon as your free hand goes to touch the substance. A small gasp leaves your mouth as both of your hands are now stuck. No matter how hard you pull or move you aren’t able to break free which quickly increases your panic. “Shit, shit shit!” Your knees on the ground you try to look for the culprit as you are more than certain this is another enemy stand attack.

“Man I thought this would be at least a bit more difficult,” said an unknown male voice. Your eyes immediately shot at the direction of the voice, your heart beginning to race slightly as the enemy emerged from the shadows. He had a confident smirk as he watched your predicament you tried so hard to ease. Your efforts were in vain as the spiderweb-like restrains showed no signs of loosening. A chuckle that left the enemy stand user’s mouth only increased your panic.

“Don’t even try it, missy,” he said and pulled something from his pocket; A knife. Your (E/C) eyes widened at this and despite his words, you continued your fruitless struggle. He noticed this. “Damn you really are persistent. Don’t you get it? There’s nothing you can do.” Despite the annoyingly mocking tone in his voice, he was right. Summoning your stand in this situation was impossible due to the fact that you were completely immobile, your hands glued to the ground.

“Let me go you asshole!” He took a few steps closer, still holding the sharp knife in his hand as he let out another derisive laugh. “And let you attack me with that stand of yours? I think not.” Your heart pounded in your chest as he knelt down in front of you, holding the blade dangerously close to your face. Still, you kept your eyes on him. “You see, my stand isn’t exactly suited for combat. The only thing it can do is shoot that glue-like substance that sticks to everything. It works well as a trap but it won’t do any physical damage.” You glared at the enemy despite the obvious panic raging inside you. The situation was dire, but you weren’t ready to lose. Still, the knife in his hand shook your entire being.

“That’s why I carry this little thing around.” His eyes glanced at the blade and he brought it even closer, to which you responded by quickly spitting at him making him quickly tumble backward, a groan escaping his mouth. What an idiot. A small smirk makes its way on your face but it quickly disappears as your quick action proves alarming as he recovers quickly, his eyes burning with anger.

“You little bitch!” He quickly lunges at you, knife in hand, aiming to strike you down. That previous panic amplifies and you try to break free once again, despite it being utterly useless. You breathe heavily as the rapid footsteps of the enemy get closer and closer, your struggles getting more and more desperate as the fear of death quickly consumes you. The situation had gotten extremely dangerous and you quickly closed your eyes, unwilling to see the knife stab you.

But the sharp pain never came and instead, you heard a loud thud mere inches away from you and upon opening your eyes, the enemy, was on the ground, completely knocked out. You were so shocked and confused you didn’t even realize your hands becoming free again. Only when a familiar voice called out to you did you finally come to your senses.

“(Name)!” Kakyoin quickly rushed to your side and helped you up, worry shining in his eyes. “(Name)? Are you okay? Did the enemy hurt you?” As you looked at him, something inside you exploded and before you knew it, you crashed your lips into his, catching him completely off guard. Your lips tingled pleasantly as they touched his, the fact that he had come to your rescue doing something inside you that caused you to kiss him in the heat of the moment.

However you quickly realize what you had done and as you glance at him and notice his wide lavender eyes and a faint blush you pull away, internally cursing at yourself for doing something this reckless. “N-Nori I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!” The embarrassment makes itself known on your face as you quickly try to somehow explain yourself and try not to make yourself look like a fool. Though, it’s probably too late.

“I-I just... I thought because you saved me, a-and- I’ve liked you for some time- I mean! I-I was so afraid, I didn’t know what I was doing I-” Your quite pathetic rambling gets interrupted by a warm chuckle that leaves the teen’s mouth. Before you have time to process his reaction, the feeling of his soft lips against yours returns as he captures them in a pleasant kiss you had been secretly waiting for.

Your hands find their way around his neck while his are tenderly on your waist. Your heart flutters, the red shade never fading from your cheeks as the kiss from the person you had been attracted to for so long completely takes over and all doubt about his feelings towards you fades away as you lovingly embrace your red-haired savior.

[bubblyani]

Bail Out : 01

(Bruce Wayne x Reader)

A Bruce Wayne Multi-Chapter Series

Chapter 01: The Bruiser

Summary: One fateful, drunken night gets you arrested for assault. However, once you get bailed out by Billionaire Socialite Bruce Wayne, surprising obstacles get in the way, forcing you to question all your choices in life, career, and in love. 

Word Count: 4700

Rating: Mature

Warning: Swearing and Hints of Blood and Violence

Author’s Note: Initially wanted to write a One Shot, but had more ideas to possibly expand. And thanks to @kittenlittle24​ ‘s encouragement, I was confident to continue this as a Series. This was soo much fun to imagine and write. It really was. Will do my best to make this a series you all can love. Enjoy!

Gotham City, never was it a fanatic of resting, especially when it came to crime. “Anyone out for a coffee run?” 


Thus, it was suffice to say the Law Enforcement of the City was never privileged with the gift of resting either. Even during the wee hours of the morning. Crime was detained, ranging from the highest risk to the mundane. Regardless, they were all crimes. 
 “...Anyone?”
 Officer John Blake of Gotham Police repeated his inquiry, scanning the other officers in the precinct. Buzzing like bees, all seemed quite occupied in their own matters. 
 “I’ll do it…” Officer Nina Langdon got up from her desk, answering with a smile. The way her pupils dilated, her secret attraction for the other young officer was quite evident. 
 Finally catching a whiff of enthusiasm, John’s eyes glinted with a hint of sincere gratitude. Standing next to him, Langdon began her query at everyone: “How about a new place today?”

The buzz, it continued. No one really seemed to bother with an answer.

“Try Commons Cafe! They have great coffee for an affordable price!”

Suddenly the buzz seemed nonexistent, when everyone’s heads indiscriminately turned upon hearing a voice. A female voice which was unfamiliar, yet professional. And to their surprise, it was traced all the way back to the nearest holding cell.

Taking a gander at their expression, the owner of that voice seemed unaffected. 
“You’re welcome…” She added coolly, returning her gaze back to the wall before her. Highly amused, Officer Blake chuckled. Deeply curious, Officer Langdon leaned over to Blake.
 “What is she in for?” She asked in a low voice. “Assault…” John answered, opening the file that rested on his neatly arranged desk. His answer certainly made the red headed officer raise her eyebrows. 
“Anything serious?” She was certainly inquisitive. He shook his head. 
“Nah…” he replied,  “Just a rough night, I guess” he added, turning back to the woman sitting in the cell.

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

It was never intentional, but you just could not help overhear their discussion. And Officer Blake was right: Last night was indeed a very rough night. 


Trying to catch a wink of sleep in the cell seemed impossible for you. For you were not at comfort. Let there be no misunderstanding, for the environment was not to blame at all. You scoffed to yourself.You were no princess, seeking any luxury. It was just that your damned humbleness got in the way with the most mediocre excuses. Like, your tight skirt riding up every time you made an attempt to lie down, for instance. You did not want to make a scene by showing any unwanted skin.

That’s right. That damned humbleness.

And the throbbing pain in your right hand did not seem to help either.

Yes, your right hand with your knuckles, all bruised and bloody.

Sleep deprived, and slightly wounded, your body was in a state of confusion. You literally felt your eye lids grow heavy, as if your eyelashes held on to weighty dumbbells in the gym, and they kept doing down. Squinting your eyes, you made your most dire attempt to stay awake. You resorted to methods a many. Pinching your own cheeks, slapping them with no shame. All until you were sober once more. You sat there, with your legs bouncing about as you stared at the wall. 


Every other corner in the station seemed to have a dose of color. Even it was dull or depressing. The wall on the other hand, was white, was empty.
 Thus, it was no surprise that you picked up a brush, and proceeded to paint out the scene over that white wall of your mind.The scene that haunted you on a constant loop, all throughout the night. 


For everything was ever so clear.

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

(Last night)


With single stroke of your mind brush, the white canvas of the wall altered into the surroundings of a luxurious hotel.


A jazz melody, simple yet effective. It lingered in the piano keys, amplifying its effect on to every living being in the area. The musical sounds infused with the subtle shushes of the small water fountain placed in the midst of the restaurant. Occupants of class and formal attire were of abundance, out to play on a Friday night. 


And in the bar lounge in the corner, there was you, sitting on one of the barstools with your phone pressed against your ear. It was no call, as you listened to a voice message. The manner in which your eyes were closed, in which your temples had tightened, it was evident to any observer that you were listening to what you dreaded.

“Sorry sweetie!” The voice of Allison, your roommate flowed into your ear: “ I forgot that Mattie was having a Birthday bash for his friend, so I promised to help out with the party blah blah blah...you know the deal…But anyways, I can’t make it for drinks tonight. I’m so so sorry, roomie! Please enjoy yourself! And hey! who knows! Maybe you’ll get to work on ya flirtin’ tonight. Sorry again…Bye!” 
 As the message ended, a scoff was all you could let out. “Trust me…” You muttered to yourself, looking at the phone, “Flirtin’s the last thing on my mind tonight”.

With one hand lifted up, you turned your gaze over to the bartender nearby. Your empty cocktail glass appearing so lonely beside you.  

“Whiskey, please” You requested, lips forming a sad smile.Taking the glass away, bartender nodded with a hint of concern. 


You sighed heavily, before taking a sip from your glass. Work had certainly drained you. It drained you like an insect being drained lifeless by a spider. With eyebrows raised, you slightly shook your head at yourself. That was an inaccurate comparison for that may not be an exact fact. Yet, it was how you felt: Drained lifeless. And here you presumed blowing off steam with your roommate would help you cheer up. But truthfully, that was not the case. It was not what you wanted in the end of the day. Drowning one’s exhaustion in a splash dip of alcohol seemed apt. At least, you’ll drop dead on your bed without hesitation. You will sleep faster. And waste the weekend away. 


As the effect of the hard liquor began to spread all over your system, you felt compelled to take off your high ponytail. You were desired by your own conscience to let your natural tresses rest easy on your head. 


“Oh! Save me the High Road Bullshit! You’re just like the rest of them SCUM!”

A voice, quite enraged reached out to your ears from afar. It cut through all the superficial chatter a few feet in between. Given the tone, You involuntary rolled your eyes.

“Someone’s not having the best day, huh?” You said to the bartender. “Yeah…looks like it” the man replied, whilst wiping the table. Sipping the whiskey, you resumed in indulging on the burning sensation you felt on your tongue.

Yet, regardless of your attempt to steer your ears away, the awkwardness could not be avoided. Especially when someone had the decency to have a tantrum on these marbled floors.
 “Name one good thing Wayne Enterprises have ever done to the people of Gotham.Can anyone name ONE THING? I DON’T THINK SO…”

Now, you had to look up. Why on earth would he say something of the sort? Head unturned yet up, you paid close attention to the voice from the distance. Glancing upon the bartender’s expression, it was certain your face did not look happy at all. What was the other’s reply? You longed to hear it.But it was too soft. 
 “That’s right! It’s nothing but a HEARTLESS company with HEARTLESS people in it” Your eyebrows furrowed, tightly. This person certainly had the nerve. As much as this slowly turned your stomach, you silently convinced yourself it was not your place to interfere, nor to even be affected. 
“You know what?” The man continued loudly, “It’s a darn shame Joe Chill didn’t finish the job…He should have gotten rid of the entire Wayne family”

A loud thud! erupted from your fists as they landed on the table with such force. So much so, even the bartender clutched on to his wiping cloth with fear. “That’s it…” You muttered through gritted teeth. Gulping down the rest of your whiskey, you decided this was definitely your place to be affected. 
 “Yes! That’s right.” The man began to mock, “Thomas, Martha....and little Bruce Way-”
 “YOU!” Silence suddenly fell over the entire floor by the power of your voice. Even the piano stopped. Turning from your barstool, You heard yourself bellow: “You Take that BACK!!!”

Fueled with rage, you knew it was definitely your place to interfere.

Sliding off the stool, you quickly spotted him. The middle aged man was quite easy to make out by the fountain, due to his dramatic expression of embarrassment. All eyes were on you as your heels clicked sharply walking over to him in speed. He was the only one you could spot among the two conversing parties, and that was enough for you. Frankly you did not care. Though you were at your fullest rage, weaponized with clenched fists, the man looked at you with mere inferiority.

“Don’t you DARE say things like that!”

You yelled, pointing your index finger at him. The man laughed mockingly, which amplified heavily with all the dense fog of silence.

“Why?” He asked, “What are you gonna do?” He jeered, “Threaten m-OW!”

Gasps exited everyone’s lips in unison. Right when you cut him off with your right fist landing hard on his face. The punch was far from skilled, yet it managed to spill some blood, it was difficult to trace its origin. You felt pain, that was for sure. 
 “You take that back! I mean it” You spat out those words, which were akin to fire. Eyes squinting, the man scrunched up his bloody nose. 
 “Wha-? OWW!!”

This time it was your right knee that made an appearance. Greeting his nose violently with a kick, your knee brought out a popping sound, causing the others to gasp and scream in fear.

“ARGH! MY NOSE!” He cried out with agony. 
 “SECURITY!” 
The cries of the Floor Manager finally brought you to the realization of the surprising consequences of your pure rage. Lifting your hands up quickly with a sigh, you surrendered yourself as the security staff surrounded you. The bystanders watched you with disbelief. Some with mixed emotions, while others purely had taken a side in this altercation. The Security found it strange when you voluntarily placed the hands behind your back for their convenience. For you were no fool. You were screwed.

“Gentleman! Gentleman! Let’s take it easy on the lady, shall we?”

A voice so smooth and undeniably familiar tickled your ears. Turning back, you gasped. For you finally laid eyes on the other party. The man who was insulted. The man you involuntarily fought for:

Bruce Wayne, in the flesh. 
 With a tall, beautiful blonde woman wrapped around him, he was as powerful as he could be. Besides, the beautiful couple exuded pure regality. And that was when you felt completely underdressed. Why wouldn’t you be? Your silk shirt, tucked in your high waisted skirt paired with a jacket made you look so meager. While the blonde woman gave you a nasty look, Wayne seemed quite concerned in contrast. Embarrassment finally came over you when you were aware of the fact he just witnessed your rage. And how he was witnessing your messy state, which included the literal blood and sweat and disheveled hair. 
“I’m truly sorry, Mr.Wayne” The manager said, “…but our restaurant doesn’t tolerate violence” You were so tempted to scoff. And you did, out loud. “Wow! wow!” You cried out with irony, turning to the manager in your handcuffs, “So violence is not tolerated, but verbal abuse is?…” you inquired, motioning to the deserving bleeding man, “Unbelievable!”

“Security! Please escort her out!” The manager was certainly not pleased with your behavior nor your tone. 
“YES! Get that woman out of here!” The rude man cried out, still covering his nose, “I’ll do you one better…I’m…I’m calling the police” he said, taking his phone out from his pocket.

You shook your head with disappointment, still feeling the alcohol linger in you as you were easily pushed out of the premises. Averting your eyes, you were relieved to leave. For you did not want to be in the midst of everyone’s judgment, most certainly his.

You heard the soothing words of the management comfort the customers in muffled tone as your footsteps got closer to the exit.

“What the hell happened, miss?” The big, tall security officer inquired with genuine curiosity. As if he felt guilty of apprehending you, “Why would you get so riled up about Wayne Enterprises anyways ?”
 Sighing heavily, you looked over to him.

“It’s because I work there...” 


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

(Present)


Completing the imaginary painting for the 20th time, you finally looked down. The right side of your skirt was stained with dried up blood. Your knuckles shared the resemblance, except there were cuts as an addition. And holy hell! The stinging was unbearable. You were no fighter. You just experimented fighting in the wrong place, in the wrong time.

Rubbing the top of your nose bridge with your fingers, you sighed. So many sighs today. “Why…why did I do that?” You muttered to yourself. You were never the troublemaker, nor the violent one, so why now? You hoped your convincing voice message would lead to your roommate getting you out. But the way you were ditched tonight, there was no possibility. It seemed quite apt you were to be left there to rot, to regret your actions.

But never did you think you were actually fighting on behalf of Bruce Wayne himself. What were the chances?

The jingle of keys grew prominently louder, amidst the chatter of policemen and civilians. You looked up to see Officer Blake in front of your cell. “Good News…” He said, “Looks like you’ve been granted bail”

Your eyes widened with disbelief. How was it possible? You were only given one phone call. Standing up in an instant, you held on to the bars with your left hand dramatically. “R-Really?” You babbled, “But who?”

The young officer smiled softly. “Best if you see it for yourself” he said, opening the door, “He is waiting outside” 
“H-He?”   You swore you breathed in literal fear, forgetting to even step out.

As you went through the formalities, you could not help but wonder. Could it be that wretched man you injured, had come to rub his power all over your face? Were you to be eternally grateful to him? Feeling sick to your stomach once again, you took slow steps towards the exit, unwilling to see the light of dawn.
 “Ahh! Shit…” You cursed under your breath upon the first glance. It was not that wretched man. It was someone even worse. It was Bruce Wayne.

Taking a deep breath, you looked over at Blake. “Officer…” you began, “Do you have a mint by any chance?”

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

Nothing would strike you as strange more than the fact you saw Billionaire Playboy Bruce Wayne standing outside of a Police Station at around 6:30 am. And to bail you out nonetheless. Why? Was it something you should be worried about? You did not know.

For a second, you could not help but stare, especially when he was not aware of your eyes on him. He may have been wearing the same outfit as last night, yet he looked so different. With his tie loosened, hair a tad bit messy and out of sorts, he dipped his hands in his pockets whilst leaning against a black Lamborghini. As much as his sight seemed appealing and lovely on the eyes, it also worried you.

He straightened himself to attention the moment he saw you walk over to him. In the early morning, there was no one else by the pavement to cause a scene. Only the two of you. So finally came the big question: How were you even going to start a conversation with someone like him?

“Firstly,” you began, clearing your throat, “ I have to ask…” He looked at you with curiosity, as you took a deep breath:

“Was your date the Prima Ballerina of the Moscow Ballet?” You asked genuinely.

Bruce chuckled loudly, evident that it was the most unexpected question. But truthfully, it was something that kept you up all night.

He nodded, “Yes”

As much as you were happy to have guessed right, you were even more mortified. You were indeed the villain in the piece. “Oh my goodness,” you exclaimed, “I’m so sorry for ruining your date, Mr.Wayne…”

“Heh…Don’t worry about it” You could not help but realize the gentle nature of his voice. Gentle to the point it could graze over flower petals without causing any harm. But you knew you did not deserve that. Calming down, you averted your gaze down.

“You really didn’t have to do this…”you said, looking around shyly, “Bail me out…I’m sure that awful man-” “Mr.Henderson-” Bruce pointed out. “Right…Mr.Henderson…”you corrected yourself,  “…won’t stop with just getting me arrested…” “Actually, he’s planning to press charges” “What?” Your jaw dropped, “Oh for the love of-” Covering your face with your left palm, you sighed hopelessly. “I’m sorry…” you said, looking up, “This is not professional of me at all. I…” you paused, “I just had a rough night” you admitted with honesty. Instead of driving you deeper with guilt, he just stood there with very little expression on his face. As if to let you recover from your own mess.

“Get in…” He said, a few seconds later as he motioned towards his car. Your eyes widened. “Oh…No! It’s fine, Mr.Wayne, I can get a taxi-”
“I insist…please!” He said, voice still gentle, “You did punch someone in the name of Wayne Enterprises…” he added with a touch of humor.

Finally giving into a chuckle, you nodded in admittance before getting in.

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

You may not have known much about cars, but you certainly knew this one was quite the machine all men would die for. Would not be so surprising to find out the magnetic attraction it possesses. A symbol of power, for sure. 
 Following the first silent minute, you already as if you were robbing of his kindness. As much as the company of a handsome gentleman made you happy, a feeling of guilt was strong enough to conquer all.  

“You know…” you began, “…you can just drop me off at the nearest bus station Mr.Wayne, you’re being too kind” You said with concern. “That won’t be necessary…” Bruce replied, his eyes still on the road as he drove, “Your address is already in the navigator” He said, with his hands on the wheel, motioning to the system screen. You chuckled. Of course, he must have pulled the file on you.

“As someone from HR …I have to say that is a major breach in Employee Privacy” you said, looking ahead whilst attempting to suppress a smile.

“Perks of being the Owner I guess…I suppose you can understand…” Bruce replied, confidence brimming, “And really? You work in HR?” He asked teasingly, “I certainly did not know that…” You laughed instantly. “Now I know you’re lying” “Well…It’s good to know we have a bruiser in HR-” “Oh no…” You cried out frustratingly, “Stop! I beg of you…As if it’s not embarrassing already to be bailed by the owner of the company…” You said, covering your face, “Ow!” You cried out. You seemed to be so accustomed to him, that you were not even aware of your bruised hand, “No…It’s fine…” you said in an instant the moment Bruce looked at your hand with concern. The way he glanced upon you, his silence compelled you to guiltily take off the tissue paper you had used to hide your knuckles. Opening it up, you bit your lip as it stung in contact with the morning chill. “No, it’s not fine…” Bruce said sternly, “...here” And to your surprise, he somehow managed to magically find a place to quickly stop the car.

Oh! Billionaires.

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

Surprises did not cease to exist so soon.

You sat there dumbfounded on the passenger seat, as you watched Bruce Wayne medically treat your right hand. His hands were articulate, cleaning out and disinfecting the skin, before smoothly applying a cooling cream over the bruises on each knuckle. He did it with such focus, you were nothing but entranced by the mere sight. And before you knew it, your hand looked like it was alive once again.

“You’re awfully good at this…” You remarked, watching him wrap a small bandage around your knuckles. The pain in your right hand deprived you the chance to identify and secretly indulge his touch. “Why, thank you…” He answered with a teasing smug. “But that definitely arouses suspicion” You had to respond, smirking with mischief. “Well..You’re awfully observant” He smirked back, as he pulled away. “It’s my job, Mr.Wayne…” You said, watching him put his hands on the wheel,“I’m a Manager in HR. I need to know the staff” you added, leaning back on your seat, “We need to know what they want. What they don’t want, like and dislike”

The car began to growl softly with the start of the engine, and it was on the road once more. With the bandage securely placed, you could move your hand freely again.

“I don’t understand…” Bruce suddenly began, “You seem like a very sensible person…” he continued, “What could possibly drive you to punch a man right in his face?” “I admit…” you began with a deep breath, “It was quite an overreaction…” as the recollection revisited you, “But...I had my reasons…” You spoke with such freedom. “Which are…?” “Mr. Wayne...” you said, as a sudden rush of confidence wore you like a suit, “I’ve been working in Wayne Enterprises for almost 10 years” you looked at him, nodding as his eyes grew wide, “I got my first job here, and I have been working here ever since. I grew up in so many ways thanks to this company. And I know how many people have benefited from it, just like me.”

Tilting your head, your eyes squinted looking forward, “Sure, the management had a bumpy road with Mr. Earle. But…” you paused, with a chuckle, “ I guess I’m too loyal to leave. Besides, with you finally getting ownership, and Mr. Fox being CEO, I’m liking the direction this company is heading…” You said with a smile, “But…loyalty and alcohol… does not go well together, I realized” you admitted, keeping one’s fingers on your chin.

Bruce chuckled. You felt proud to humor him. However, a part of you suddenly wondered if this honesty of yours was going to cause any judgement in him. “Please know that as a professional, I do not condone my actions…” You stressed out. “But...personally…?” “No regrets whatsoever…” You answered immediately,  “That gentleman had it coming…”. Gasping, you covered your mouth, “Wow!…” you giggled, “I’m being too forthcoming now, aren’t I?”

“Looks like it…” With a smirk, Bruce looked at you. For a split second, you could relate this to two old friends, sharing a naughty secret. Who knew that Bruce Wayne was just like any other man you knew, except with a bit of specialty blessed in him.

Yet, still you looked at him pleadingly. “Forgive me…Oh!” You exclaimed, the moment you realized the surroundings suddenly grew familiar. The Lamborghini was already in your neighborhood. Finding a space to his luck, he finally parked. Before unbuckling the seatbelt, you savored the moment. Turning to him, you looked at him for a few seconds. Noticing your stare, his eyebrows were raised:

“Are you by chance, doing your job?” He asked teasingly, looking your way, “Being observant?” 
 Taking a whiff of his cologne was unintentional, yet necessary.

“No…” You answered, shaking your head, “Just…taking one last look at you. Just...imprinting the image in my memory, as you might call it…” you chuckled, moving your hands over your head, “I’m sorry but…It’s very rare for people like me to even meet Bruce Wayne in person.” You added, “And it’s highly unlikely that I will ever see you again”.

Opening his mouth, Bruce produced no sound. And just like that, he quickly closed it. You smiled, lightly bowing your head with respect. Why you did it, you did not know.

“Thank You, Mr.Wayne…” you began, “...for everything” you added, showing your hand.

The very moment you got out of the car, and walked around to reach the pavement, a pang of unhappiness came over you. A sense of chill suddenly pushed the sense of warmth away. You did not know why exactly.  

But you froze, as Bruce Wayne suddenly called out your name with formality. Turning back to face him, you were more than eager: “Yes?” With the window fully open, he put his head out to take another look at you. Possibly a few years older than you, he certainly was handsome with the morning light shining over him, you realized. “Never underestimate the power of probability…” He said. You folded your arms, suppressing a smile. “You’ll have to be more specific” you replied. He smiled back softly. “We will see each other again…” He said, with confidence. Your arms loosened upon hearing it, and that swell of unhappiness, that chill suddenly disappeared into thin air. Leaving enough room for the warmth to creep back in. This time, the warmth was strong enough to glaze your heart.

Still smiling, Bruce gave a small wave. “You take care now” he said, to which you nodded.   “I will…Thank You” You said, watching the Lamborghini slowly take off. Your eyes followed it until the sight of it grew small to the size of a pea. Moving your head, you quickly spotted the figure of Allison walking down the street towards you, with a dropped jaw. Relieved to see her without any hangover, you smiled at her. 
 “Was that Bruce Wayne?” Allison asked, pointing at the now non-visible car, “THE BRUCE WAYNE?” She squealed. “Yep…” “Damn! He looks good.” She said deliciously, only to gasp soon after, “Wait! Did he bail you out?” Her face grew concerned seeing your nod, “Oh sweetie…You know I would have bailed you If I had money…I know you’re probably mad at me right now but-”

Where her rambling apology went, you did not know, and did not care. For you were too deep in your own thoughts. That warmth which glazed your heart. You have only felt it a few times before. Recalling the times, was when you finally realized the unthinkable.

“Fuck!” You breathed. Allison looked at you with shock, “Excuse me?” “FUCK!” Exclaiming louder, you groaned out with frustration. With your buttocks finally resting on the front steps of your apartment building, you groaned louder. “Shhhhhh!“ Your outright cursing had attracted the attention of a displeased nun, as she passed you by.   “I’m sorry...” Your apology to her was muffled, through your hands over your face. The roommate sat next to you with a worried look. She smelled of perfume and cigarettes.

“Sweetie…” she began, "You gotta tell me what’s going on! You’re freakin’ me out!” She said in a low tone, yet her concern was evident.

“I’m not...” you paused, taking your hands away, “I’m not mad at you…” you said calmly, looking forward “...if that’s what you’re worried about…” You added, “It’s just that…” you sighed, “I’m pretty sure I may have to quit my job…”

Eyes widening, Allison clutched her chest dramatically. “WHAT? But WHY?” “Because....” linking your hands together, you exhaled deeply before turning to her: “I think… I like Bruce Wayne...”

——————————————————

Is your curiousity stirred? Chapter 2 HERE

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[themonkeycabal]

WandaVision Ep 8 Spoilers

(THERE IS A MID-CREDITS SCENE, BTW)

Previously on WandaVision: It was Agatha all along.

This show has really come along well. I was worried after the first couple episodes, which were extremely slow, but it's tightened up and been entertaining as heck, in addition to being kind of a surprising meditation on grief and dealing or not dealing. You go along with wacky sitcom hijinks and then get whacked with the reminder so many things that have happened here are driven by terrible loss.

Anyway …. Acting Director Dick is Up To Something regarding Vision, and I fear we're all going to have to endure lots of his jackassery this episode. He's the not very fun part of this show, tbh. But we're getting down to it, so hopefully he gets his comeuppance sooner rather than later. And then on to deal with Agatha. Who is fabulously rotten. I love her, I have to say.

I guess this all leads into Doctor Strange 2, which I didn't know until Feige said it at the TCAs this week. So, that's something to look out for, too. Maybe everybody already knew that, but that was new to me, I think.

In happy news, nobody is power washing the sidewalks this morning. Hooray.

Creepy woods, a figure holding a flaming torch, Salem, Mass. 1693. Ah, Agatha's origin story. Burning at the stake. Or, maybe not. So far it's just being tied to one in the middle of a dark, creepy night.

"Agatha Harkness, are you a witch?" "Yes. I am a witch." "Yet, you have betrayed your coven." *gasp* Agatha!

She's been captured by her coven, because she stole knowledge, practiced dark magic, and other sundry evilities. But she says she's innocent, innocent, do you hear her! Oh, I guess not, "I did not break your rules, they simply bent to my power."

The lead witch is her mother, apparently. Since Agatha seems unrepentant, all the witches zap her with witchy magic or something. She screams a lot. But then her dark powers start drawing from the witches, sucking them dry. This is all very dramatic. Mom casts the final bolt, but Agatha is too powerful and she breaks free. All the other witches, except mom, have been grotesquely mummified.

Agatha swears she can be good, mom doubts. Mom zaps her again. Oh, whoops, Agatha drains mom next. She takes the broach from mom's desiccated corpse then zooms off into the sky in a burst of swirly purple magicy mist. The coven really didn't think that plan through all the way.

Present day, we're right where we left off, in Agatha's basement cavern of dark witches and nosy neighbors. Agatha is talking to her rabbit, Mr. Scratchy, and smirking at Wanda. "I know. She does look shocked to meet the real us, doesn't she?"

Wanda's eyes go glowy and Agatha laughs. "Oh, that's adorable. My thoughts are not available to you, toots."

Wanda wants to know where her children are, and Agatha mocks her about her reappearing/disappearing accent. Wanda tries to whammy her. "Huh, your magic's no good here." But Agatha's is. Agatha's no dummy, and now she's got Wanda magically trussed up in the center of the room.

"Didn't you notice? Basic protection spell? One on each wall? No? Nothing?" Hmm. Agatha, tbh, Wanda has like no idea what she's doing. So … "How do you not know the fundamentals?"

Wanda asks "Who are you?" and Agatha asks the same "Who are *you*? All those costumes and hairstyles. I was so patient, waiting for you to reveal your true self. I got close with fake Pietro — Fietro, if you will". Lol. I love her. She goes on about the magicy stuff she did to make Fietro "But you're so crippled by your own self doubt that you believed it. Oh Wanda."

"When I sensed this place, the afterglow of so many spells cast all at once, I couldn't make heads or tails of it." She shows off a mind control spell with some sort of big gross bug. Great. And has it fly at Wanda's face. Super awesome, Agatha. Oh, I see, she's going through the spells she thinks Wanda has cast, all the details, all the control of a whole town and all its storylines. Agatha's impressed and envious, "What's your secret, sister?"

Wanda says she didn't do anything and Agatha doesn't like that answer and tosses Wanda around. Now, see, Agatha, much as your coven underestimated you, I think your runic protection is only going to go so far before Wanda decides it doesn't.

"I tried to be gentle, to nudge you awake from this ridiculous fantasy. But, you'd rather fall apart than face your truth." Well, I mean. She's really been through a lot the last few weeks, Agatha. Like A LOT. Oh, and we're going to relive it. She's casting some sort of memory spell on Wanda, taking them back to the vast emptiness, endless nothing Wanda described to Fietro a couple weeks ago. You're not being very nice, Agatha.

"It's time to look at some real reruns." Wanda doesn't want to play along, but Agatha reminds her that she's got her children.

So, through the magic memory door they step, and into a tiny Sokovian apartment, with Wanda's parents. Her father apparently smuggled DVDs of "I Love Lucy" and "Bewitched". Didn't the people of Sokovia suffer enough? Well, he's got "The Addams Family", too. That's okay, I guess.

Little Pietro runs in reminding Mama and Papa that the only rule of TV night is you have to speak English. They call for Wanda and Agatha nudges her to step into the role of little Wanda. Papa says Wanda can pick what they're going to watch, but outside, there's gunfire. Except, I guess it's no big deal, Mama turns away from the window and the street battle below their apartment, while little Wanda says she wants to watch "The Dick Van Dyke Show", season 2, episode 21. Poor kid. Pietro agrees and moans, "Always sitcom, sitcom, sitcom!"

I'm waiting for the Stark Bomb to fall.

Little Wanda is far too enamored of "The Dick Van Dyke Show". Oh! There's the bomb. Pietro grabs her and they hide under the bed and they stare at the Stark Bomb. She and Pietro discuss what to do, while in the background, behind the bomb, the tv continues to play.

Little Wanda reaches out with her magic hand and then big Wanda is yanked out of the memory by Agatha, who demands to know if she stopped the bomb going off. "You used a probability hex?" Wanda says she didn't do anything, the bomb just never went off.

"So, what I see here is a baby witch, obsessed with sitcoms, and years of therapy ahead of her." lol, but harsh. "Where'd you get the big guns, Wanda?" A good question, Agatha. We never did get that answer before, really, did we? Just a sort of vague suggestion of "hydra did stuff to her and pietro maybe?".

"I don't want to go back there." "I know you don't. But it's good medicine, angel. The only way forward, is back."

Through another magic door we go.

Ha, I just paused and saw the title of the ep is "Previously On".

And into the Hydra lab. "Don't be scared, you already lived it once."

Oh, it's Loki's scepter. And the … whichever stone that is. I can't remember, totally lost track of them. Mind stone?

Wanda is in the containment unit with the scepter. The Hydra scientist wants her to do something with the scepter, and jr scientist says that no subject has survived this and lead scientist is like shut up and 'go ahead Wanda, it'll be totally fine'. 

Wanda approaches the scepter and it starts to shake and the stone breaks free and flies at her, but then pauses and they stare at each other. She reaches out for it. Then the blue outer bit of the stone explodes off and underneath is the the yellow stone. Ok, yeah it is the Mind stone.

Lots of dramatic power stuff with Wanda and the stone. She sees a flying silhouetted figure in the light of the stone and then passes out. She survives! I mean, obviously. The Hydra scientists have her sent to isolation where they torture her by making her watch "The Brady Bunch". Well, no, I guess she likes it. Keep this under your hat, but if you ever want to break me, making me watch "The Brady Bunch" could probably do it.

The Hydra scientists meanwhile are trying to figure out what happened, watching the recordings over and over — they don't see the whole stone flying towards Wanda and the subsequent mind meld. She's just standing there, and then falls down.

Agatha sums this up for us "So, little Orphan Wanda got up close and personal with an Infinity Stone that amplified what otherwise would have died on vine. The broken pieces of you are adding up, buttercup. I have a theory, but I need more."

Door number three reveals her digs at the Avengers compound. She is, of course, watching TV. "Malcolm in the Middle." Well, it's better than "The Brady Bunch." The only thing I hate more than "The Brady Bunch" is "The Partridge Family."

"Where are we now?" "The Avengers compound. It was the first home Vision and I ever shared. Pietro was dead, and I was in a new country. I was all alone."

Vision enters through the wall, back when he didn't remember doors existed, and Wanda invites him to sit next to her and watch TV. "It's funny because of the grievous injury the man just suffered?" Vision doesn't get sitcoms either.

Vision sweetly tells her that if she wants to talk about what she's feeling, he'd like to know. "Should you wish to tell me. Should that be of some comfort to you." "What makes you think talking about it would bring me comfort?" "Well, I read a thing—" that's the Tony Stark part of Vision. "The only thing that would bring me comfort is seeing him again." Poor Wanda.

Vision has a little "I don't know how to respond to that" face journey that is subtle but made me laugh.

She apologizes to him. "It's just like this wave washing over me again and again." She says the wave will drown her, but Vision says it won't. 

"It can't all be sorrow, can it?" IS2G if you two make me tear up this morning, I will … not do anything but be kind of annoyed. I have had the worst allergies the last couple of days, don't make me more snotty!

"I've always been alone, so I don't feel the lack. It's all I've ever known. I've never experienced loss, because I've never had a loved one to lose. What is grief, if not love persevering?" Damn you, Vision. At least I have a new box of tissues.

He sees something funny on the telly and laughs then apologizes. She laughs with him, though. "No, it was funny." They smile at each other, cutely awkward.

Even Agatha wipes at the corner of one eye. Though it could be annoyance. Hard to tell.

"So to recap: parents dead, brother dead, Vision dead." You're still a very mean person, Agatha. "What happened when he wasn't there to pull you back from the darkness, Wanda?"

Wanda doesn't want to play this game anymore. Agatha insists. "Tell me how you did it? Vision was gone, but you wanted him back."

Wanda sort of wakes up, "I wanted him back." Door number four takes us to SWORD's ridiculous and massive lobby. Really, what is with the stupidly enormous monitors hovering over the whole absurd place? So stupid. Nobody wants to watch the news that badly or bigly.

Wanda is walking through the lobby — SWORD's security sucks — but contrary to Acting Director Dick's version of the story, Wanda is politely asking the security guy where Vision is. And not throwing red woo-woos or anything. "Please, please. When I came back, he was gone. His body. And I know he's here. He deserves a funeral, at least. I deserve it."

Speaking of AD Dick. He seems to be watching this on the security feed, he calls the security desk and talks to the guard. Wanda spots the camera. But, security guy waves her through, gives her directions to wherever.

Security guy gets up to buzz Wanda in, but she says she's got it, and she opens the door herself. The footage AD Dick used to make her look like a terrorist. I mean, we knew he was a dick, so this is no surprise, but still. Jimmy! Arrest that asshole for aggravated assholery and general shadiness!

Anyway, Wanda's striding down hallways and as she comes even to the Director's door, the security light goes green and beeps so she goes into his office.

There’s polite introductions and whatever. 

"I understand you're here to see the Vision. To recover his body." "Well, I'm his next of kin." "I understand." You're a lying sleazy snake who's been doing shady things with Vision's body. "I'd like to show you something?" "And then you'll give him to me?" No, because he's a scumbag.

He shows her a lab, she's confused, he says it's what she asked to see. And down in the lab are technicians taking Vision's body apart. Obviously, this is horrifying to her. What did Hayward expect to get from showing Wanda that? Like she'd be all "oh, hmm, how fascinating. Look, he's made of wires and such. By all means, cut my boyfriend's robot head off. For science"?

"What are you doing to him?" "We're dismantling the most sophisticated sentient weapon ever made." I think you're a liar pants, Dick. "It's our legal and ethical obligation."

"I just want to bury him. It's all I want." "Are you sure?" "Excuse me?" "Not everyone has the kind of power that could bring their soulmate back online — forgive me — back to life." You are such a sleaze, Dick. They can't get Vision to work again, so why not emotionally manipulate the grieving woman to do it for you. Gross. DIAF Dick.

"No, I can't do that. That's not why I'm here." "Okay, I can't allow you to take three billion dollars worth of vibranium just to put it in the ground." He's the worst. "The best I can do is let you say goodbye to him here."

"He's all I have." "Well, that's just it, Wanda; he isn't yours." Somebody needs to squash this guy like a bug. I don't care who. Wanda, obviously, deserves the honor most, but let her get on with her life, I say. Monica's probably the next best for sure. SOMEBODY THOUGH! Hand Darcy a wrench, she'll take care of it.

Where were we … Oh, Wanda's doing the head tilt of impending magical ass-kickery. She busts through the glass, drops down to the floor of the lab, and a security team runs out to point their guns at her. AD Dick tells them to fall back. Why, his plan's working just perfectly, no need to interfere with the woman he’s making suffer extra.

Wanda walks around Vision's body to his head. And she puts her hand over the giant hole where Thanos ripped out the mind stone. "I can't feel you." Every bit of this, for me, takes AD Dick from a generic loathsome character, to somebody actually disgusting. Do not like.

Wanda can't feel Vision at all, and she walks away, out of the room, out of the SWORD building, leaving the body behind. THIS IS VERY SAD, MARVEL.

She gets into her car, and in the passenger seat is an open envelope, like for a greeting card or something. And off she goes to Westview, New Jersey. A down-on-its-luck small town, full of sad looking people and dirty streets. 

She pulls into the driveway of a property that's overgrown, with just a foundation, no house.

Damn you show. It wasn't an envelope, it was a real estate deed with a plan of the property with a red heart drawn on it, and the words "to grow old in. v." inside. What did Wanda do to deserve this? I mean, fine, she was in Hydra for like a minute, but she wasn't a true believer or anything, and she redeemed herself. Come on. Stupid Marvel, making all the things hurt.

She's crying, you're crying, I'm crying, everybody's crying, as she walks into the foundation of the home that never was. And then it all just comes pouring out of her in a great burst of red light and grief and power. Creating the sitcom world around her and swallowing Westview. Poor Wanda. 

There. There's your answer, Agatha. Are you happy, you big meanie? Go turn AD Dick into a toad, or something, would you?

Hm, from her power, the yellow light of the mind stone starts to separate out, from back when she and it sort of had their moment in the Hydra lab, and out of that Vision is recreated or reborn or reconstituted or … whatever. Then they're in the black and white world of the first ep, and everything is perfect. Damn you, Marvel.

Real world Wanda looks up from where she's standing behind B&W Wanda and Vision and sees it's all just a TV show set. Agatha is in the audience, clapping. She vanishes and Wanda can hear Billy and Tommy screaming for her. She runs off set and into her front yard.

Out on the street, Agatha has the boys on magic leashes.

Agatha says she knows what Wanda is and that "You have no idea how dangerous you are." Well, keep holding her boys with magic ropes around their necks and we'll all find out. Agatha's gone full witchy here, she looks great.

"You're supposed to be a myth. A being capable of spontaneous creation. Here you are, using it to make breakfast for dinner." lol. Hey! I was actually thinking last night that I hadn't made waffles in a while. Breakfast for dinner is its own kind of magic, Agatha. (note to self: check we have syrup)

Wanda is pretty done with Agatha. She wants the boys released.

"Oh yes, your children. Vision. This whole little life you've made; this is chaos magic, Wanda. And that makes you … The Scarlet Witch!" DUN DUN DUN! CREDITS! !!!!

Well that was all very dramatic and sad. A really good episode, really good. Damn you, Marvel. Kathryn Hahn is great, absolutely love her.

Yes, there's a mid-credits scene, btw. F'in AD Dick, for what it's worth, finally putting his Genius Master Plan into action. What a dick. The biggest sack of tiny dicks you ever saw. No really, I hate this guy. I hope Wanda tears him a hundred new ones. Then sets what's left on fire. With her mind. 

Also, he’s dumb. He can’t possibly think he can contain Wanda when she gets a look at his Genius Master Plan, can he? Is he that dumb? Probably, but couldn’t one of his little minions go “um, sir, she did almost defeat Thanos. I suspect this may end catastrophically for us.” 

Do you suppose Darcy’s still stuck in traffic? 

OH NO! There’s only one more episode left. I’m sad about that. This has turned out really quite good. Well done, show. Well done. 

[starssabi]

fandom: Apex Legends (video game)

pairing: Revenant / Reader (m/f)

ao3 link

note: Yes, I am disgusting. Yes, I enjoyed writing this. Yes, there may be more like this in the future. This is NOT non-con but it can be taken as dub-con if you'd like. Please be aware of that! The reader is totally into it, she's just a brat. Sorry Loba, we’re fucking the murder bot.

warnings: light sadism, threats of violence (barely), semi-public smut, fear-play if you squint, mild dubious consent. 

summary:  You and Revenant have had some tension for some time now, and you both have come to enjoy teasing and sassing one-another. It all comes to a head during a match, and you become stuck quite literally between a rock and a hard place.

this should go without saying, but this is written for those 18+.

oneshot: Brat

Skinsuits. He hated every single one of them.

Part of you suspected there may be more to it, maybe he wasn’t just a pissed-off murder robot, as Elliott would call him. From the times that you had been paired up together in both trios and duos, he had been nothing short of an asshole. That was to be expected with the robot that everyone had come to hate, and when Loba showed up, the hatred only grew in number and felt amplified.

You wished you could hate him. You knew he was cruel, that he was a murderer and no doubt a sadist as well; someone who clearly got off on hurting others and toying with them. The words he uttered when his victim met their end gave that away. You were the only one who met his rude comments with sarcastic, or equally rude remarks.

Anita did so sometimes, too. As did Octavio, though, for some reason, it was you that caught his attention. He wouldn’t thank you after you tossed him a weapon? Did I ask? Your thanks to him, whenever he was feeling generous, was curt and met with what sounded like him clearing his throat, even if he wasn’t capable of it. You found it entertaining to banter with the lanky robot, and soon, it seemed he began to find it entertaining too.

Talk outside of the games grew more intense and more frequent. In the dropship, he’d stare blatantly, make you shift in your seat, and his disdainful attitude while in the ring became more sarcastic and teasing than a real threat. He’d thank you now, although it was clearly to mess with you, and when you’d pull him back up from a fight, he almost seemed smug. Could robots be smug? He was.

You being you, either suicidal or brave, still met him with the same behavior. However, his threats became less of anger and more… pleased.

“Watch your mouth, girly. It might get you into trouble someday.”

It did. God, it did.

This was new. He’d never found you before in the ring just for his own amusement. It was clear that was why when he didn’t put a cap immediately in your skull. You were stuck with Elliott at that time, who was busy looting the building across the cavern. You had moved ahead enough to be out of immediate earshot, and once that was determined, he jumped on you, almost quite literally. The rocks were sharp and uncomfortable against your back, even through your clothing. He had you pinned to the cavern’s wall, a darker corner within that left you exposed to him but hidden from Elliott’s line of sight. Elliott hadn’t called for you yet, but the ring would be closing soon, and it was inevitable.

Your own hand had pressed the wingman to Revenant’s chest, and it remained there until one of his steady mechanical ones wretched it away. A deep sound came from him, a chuckle, and he pushed into you further. You were quite literally stuck between a rock and a hard place.

“You could’ve taken the shot,” he spoke lowly, sounding quite pleased with your behavior. You hadn’t tried to push him away, hell, you barely moved a muscle aside from the irritating frown that now spread across your lips. “But you didn’t.”

He was teasing you again, though something was different. It could have been the close proximity making your heart jump in your chest, or maybe it was the intention of his words, which you were slowly unraveling. One of his thin hands came back from the wall and gripped your chin. It wasn’t as rough as you were expecting, but it wasn’t kind either. Your lips parted as you considered telling him off, but you were cut off by another deep chuckle before you could.

“I told you this mouth would get you into trouble,” if he had movable lips, he’d be smiling no doubt. A cold finger brushed against your bottom lip briefly, pushing into the plush skin, considering something before he swiped away. That’s when his hand fell down lower, coming to squeeze your hips and pull you closer, if at all possible. He towered over you, and he was still able to push his leg between your legs. “I’ll take this instead.”

His hand tightened briefly against your hipbone, almost as if testing the waters if he cared enough to do that. When you didn’t pull away from either his words or his touch, his hand moved down further, dragging along your pants before cupping your clothed heat completely. His hand was cold even through the fabric, and you gasped. This prompted his other to clamp down onto your mouth. His eyes glowed threateningly in the damp darkness between you. His hand didn’t remain above clothing for long. It only took one swift pull for him to yank your pants down to mid-thigh, damn near tearing the fabric and pulling you to your knees. His hold on you didn’t relent, and if it did, you surely would have fallen from the strength behind the pull. Once your pants were down enough, he moved onto your underwear, not even glancing down to them before he pulled them, too. This fabric gave way much easier, and it was left as nothing but scraps in his curled hand. They left your line of sight a moment later.

There was no preparation for what would meet your folds. It was cold, he was cold, and the sensation was not one you were entirely familiar with. Metal on skin. He was smooth at the moment, though fear pricked at your spine recalling how he had stabbed others before. It only took seconds for his hand to morph into what looked like the sharpest blade ever, and those seconds could occur at any time. Still, you couldn’t help but keen into his hand as fingers began to delve into your folds, parting them to dip into the wetness that had already begun to seep from your hole and push back out, rubbing slow motions against your clit. Already you were beginning to ache with need.

“Shhh,” he shushed you quietly, the sound somewhat smoother compared to his usual harsh voice. He was taking his time rubbing circles against you, his fingers blunt but precise with the motions. Your hips tried to push further into the touch, but he pushed back; metal to skin to solid rock.

Seconds were ticking by, and you were aware of every single one of them. In any other situation, you would have relished the slow pace, but it wasn’t the time, not when the ring close was inching closer and closer. He knew, too, and his touch against your clit only lasted a few more seconds before he pushed once again between your folds and prodded at your opening. You made a noise against his hand, and his gaze shot up from where he was watching your arousal slick his fingers.

You expected him to tease you again, but instead, you were met with two of his cold fingers pushing into you.

He watched your face intently, and even with his hand still covering your mouth, he was able to make out the desperate expression beneath with ease. You, the same girl who shot back the most snark with him, were taking his fingers so well. He loved it, loved teasing you, and all while he was quite possibly saving the face to his memory, he curled and stroked his fingers up into you. He was slow only for a few seconds before he quickened the pace of his thrusts, and as he did so, it felt as if his fingers had grown within you. He was pressing against the deepest parts of you, the tips of his fingers pressing completely into you before pulling back to rub against that spot. He found it just as quickly as he had taken you, and it wouldn’t be long before you came undone on the monster’s fingers.

“What if they could see you now,” his chuckle still rang in your ears, “Your cunt dripping all over my hand, you want to cum, don’t you?” His voice was low enough that you could begin to hear the sound of the slick metal pushing inside of you, and against his hand, you cringed. It was hard enough to pretend he didn’t get you riled up, and vice-versa, now that you knew. You half expected his words as he continued: “Beg. It’s good for both of us.”

The hand clamped over your mouth was released, and your defiant frown came into view. He stared down at you impatiently, but you offered no response. Your expression was enough for him to put the pieces together, and something of mock laughter met your ears.

“Would you rather I kill you now? Get it over with,” his fingers made the come-hither motion against your tight walls, and your hips jolted upwards with an audible gasp. He could kill you like that, you recalled, “You’re making it too easy. Come on, I want to hear you.”

It was right there. You could feel yourself trying to meet his thrusts, reaching your breaking point, but your lips remained shut. You were a brat, as he had come to realize, and he would have fun breaking you. It wouldn’t be long — As you tightened around his digits, they came to a halt. Your groan was nothing short of agitated, and he almost laughed again. You were desperate. If he didn’t kill you, the ring would.

“Please, fuck,” you hissed out, and his head tilted, beckoning for you to continue. “Hurry, just — please!” Irritation and desperation mixed, and your expression was stubborn, but you had done enough for him to find his own pleasure in your submission. His fingers began to thrust again, somehow even faster than they had before, and there was no covering the lewd noises that escaped both your lips and where his fingers met your skin. It took no time at all to have you jolting and choking out cries under him, your core pulsing around his fingers as he let you ride out your high. They stroked slower inside of you, almost testing the limits, but he pulled them out with a shlick a moment later. You sagged against the wall, chest heaving, and all he did was look you over. MEMORY REGISTER COMPLETE.

“Better hurry up, little girl. Next time I find you I won’t be as nice.”

After...

"Hey, uh, you think you could mute your comms next time?"

You came to a complete halt as Elliott spoke. He sounded almost as nervous as you were at that point, and your face visibly paled to him as you turned. He seemed to be having the same reaction, his eyes wide and darting from you to the area surrounding. A sound came from somewhere around the two of you, perhaps the shuffle of someone through the grass, and he began to laugh nervously. He was being much too loud, though clearly, you had no room to talk.

"You know what? Forget I said anything. It's fine. Never happened!"

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Christmas Day

Summary:

Haru convinces Rin to spend Christmas with him in Disneyland and Rin remembers when she used to go there with her parents.

Part two of my present to @hizashi-yamadas for the Animanga Secret Santa 2020

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Link to other parts: 

December 24: Christmas Eve  (Toru x Kyo)

December 26: The Day after Christmas (Uo x Kureno)

Note: Merry Christmas Elisha and I hope you enjoy! Keep your eyes out for the next installment :D

Rin wasn’t planning anything big for Christmas. In fact, she had never really done anything for Christmas since she had moved out of her parent’s place and into Kagura’s house. Being reminded everyday by the dynamics of Kagura and her mother of the family life she did not achieve, somehow made her ponder her circumstances as a daughter, as a part of a family.

A holiday as big and supposedly as warm as Christmas despite the biting winter was only mocking her. It did not feel warm at all.

It was like any other cold day in winter and Rin found herself curled up on the blanket at four in the morning when she looked at her phone to see December 25 written on the front and a subheading below which said “Christmas Day.” She had heard that in other countries, Christmas day was an important holiday for families. At least there, it was bearable. Kagura and her mother only made it less bearable because those two liked to spend it together every single damn year.

She was sure Kagura wouldn’t invite her out like they did the first few years. Like every year, Rin was determined to stay alone in the room.

That was until she saw that message under the date.

Won free tickets to Disneyland. Let’s go tomorrow.

It wasn’t a question. In fact, it seemed like an order more than anything. Rin started to consider then, that maybe for that year, her Christmas plans would change. The name she saw above the message only convinced her more, to maybe get out of bed that day and find some other way to celebrate that dreaded holiday.

Rin was quick to reply. As she watched the bar fill as the message was sent, she looked back up at the name at the top of the screen and allowed herself a little smile.  

Haru Soma.

Strangely, for the first time in so many years, she was excited for Christmas.                                           

                                         Christmas Day

    It had been years since Rin had been to Disneyland. Or at least, it should have been years since then.

As Rin took in the view of the arc as they entered, the turnstiles and the crowds, it felt like just yesterday. Maybe because the view in Disneyland was timeless. The crowds and the families and the Christmas decorations never changed.

Suddenly, she saw her parents among the crowds and she could imagine them holding her hand and pulling her through the crowds. She was five years old again.

Back then she was happy. Back then, Christmas was magical. Back then, she was looking forward to going home that night and waking up to presents from Santa Claus.

The stark contrast then to what she had at present, the realization that everything had all been a lie, only left a horribly bitter taste in her mouth.

Every face she saw, every child, every parent was smiling. Every smile was warm. And Rin was wondering again what had gone wrong. She looked to Haru, hoping at least to see a warm smile there.

His face was blank. Maybe he was spacing out as they were navigating the crowd. She couldn’t help but be a little disappointed though.

“Where to first?” He asked. As they finally got past the turnstiles and into the crowd.

“You invited me.” I thought you’d be planning it. Rin had hoped he’d read that part with the look she gave him. He seemed unperturbed though.

“Okay, let’s see what looks fun.” He grabbed a guide from the nook on the side and looked through it. “This is my first time here. You’ve been here before right?”

“Maybe.” A long time ago. In another life.

After some walking, they arrived at a point in the park which looked like what could have been an old Western City. The buildings were streaked with colors of Christmas and it was when Rin looked closer did she see they were Christmas lights on green pines. She let herself look a little at it a longer, and a little more carefully. The pine gave an unnatural glint, if one looked closely enough to see it.

They were fake. Probably plastic. She’d been living a fake life for more than half her life. She continued to live completely aware that everything else could be fake The home she was enjoying in Kagura’s home could have been fake. Haru taking her out to Disneyland could have been another stage play.

Everything around her from the Christmas lights and the pine trees and the giant tree that illuminated the darker part of the semi-indoor Christmas town, although breathtaking was definitely fake.

Compared to years ago, Rin was not amazed. In fact, it was frustrating to see something so beautiful yet so blatantly staged.  

“You wanna go on a ride?” Haru suggested. “The tower of terror is pretty popular apparently.”

They followed the map to the location of the ride. It wasn’t too hard. The tower stuck out amongst all the other buildings and they only had to follow its general direction to get a feel of where it was. They followed a few more paths, keeping an eye on the tower above.

Eventually, they were near enough to have to look up at it. Rin’s stomach dropped as she bent her head back to see how high the tower really went. She could hear the screams from the inside and the excited chatter from the long line that spilled far out of the entrance. They didn’t help at all.

In fact they only amplified that tingling sensation on her back. Within seconds, it was as if her scars were burning. Somehow, she was lying again on the ground, looking up at the sky, Akito looking down at her from his spot on the window.

“Let’s...get out of here.” Rin managed to say.

“Rin, you okay?”

Rin had felt it many times before. Terror would manifest itself as a million fingers grabbing at her, wrapping himself around her and suddenly she’d be unable to breath. She used to fight them. Something inside her though, still had a weak grip on reality and Rin was at least aware enough of the arm wrapping around her, and the benevolent intentions behind it.

“Let’s get you somewhere quiet.”

Rin knew if at that moment she gave her body any more power, maybe she would have fought against the gentle arm running around her. Maybe she would have kicked or elbowed him from behind, the way she had wanted to when Akito did the same things.

It took more than enough effort but she managed to stop herself, channeling the fear and terror inside her and allowing it to manifest itself as time frozen, as the world going black.

For Rin, time stood still, except for the arms wrapped around her. She let them take her where she needed to go.

                                       Christmas Day

“That was a stupid thing to suggest.. I’m sorry.”

To the average person, Haru’s voice would have sounded emotionless with no shred of guilt. Rin only had to look up at his gaze, to see that the guilt was there and the acknowledgement of his mistake.

“No it wasn’t… We wasted a good five hours of park time cause I just couldn’t get myself together,” Rin commented as she cut up the jelly they had ordered into smaller pieces. It was a simple exercise that was at least helping her clear her mind.  

“The tickets were free. If you’re not up to it, we can leave now and just go somewhere else.”

“What are you suggesting?” Rin took one small bite of jelly.

“Maybe a mall? Or just the park? They have a Christmas Market in Hibiya.”

“They’re all crowded. It won’t make a difference.”

“Then maybe we can go back to the main house.”

Rin shook her head. “We’re already here. You got some free tickets. Might as well enjoy it.”  

That last part was for herself. They were sitting in a relatively peaceful part of the park. The attractions around that area were geared towards children and Rin couldn’t help but note that compared to the area where the Tower of Terror was, the faces around her were a little more laid back. There were a lot more families with children and a few couples among them.

There was less hustle and competition among them to be first in line. The smiles were at least more relaxed. Many of the children were running freely, their parents following behind them. Even when frazzled, the parents looked happy. And the children, who looked back at their parents gesturing for them to follow, looked carefree.

Must be nice. How long had it been since Rin had smiled like that at her parents? She found herself even questioning her own emotions and her own experiences. And as she thought back to the same face her parents made, and the same way they had chased her through the park more than a decade ago, Rin realized one important thing.

“I’ve been here before.”

“I was sure your parents have taken you here before. Back when were kids, they never stopped bragging about your happy family vacations over Soma family dinners.”

Of course Haru would have remembered more than him. The shock at realizing that everything had all been part of an act, that every happy memory as a child had all been a lie had all been  part of some large production, made it difficult for Rin to recall them at will.

Lies were things that simply didn't exist in reality. How could she grasp for something that never existed as something beyond an act or a lie?

The memories were still somehow vague but they were enough to rouse a little curiosity within her.

“Let’s go on a ride?”

“What are you thinking?”

Rin only had to point ahead for Haru to understand. The building was hidden behind trees from their angle. The bright colors of the castle stuck out. That was also the only ride within their field of vision.

Rin had to pick at her head to remember what exactly went on inside the ride. The cartoony Eiffel tower and the clock tower in odd and exquisite yet unrealistic shades were all too familiar. As a child, they had reminded her and even hinted to possibly a world beyond her own, complementing the many fairy tales and folk tales she had heard as a child. That part of her memory was at least what made the view in front of her as they closed in on the ride, all the more familiar.

As they got nearer and Rin let the trauma-hardened cynic within her take over, she started to notice the unnatural glint of cement and cheap paint, as the afternoon sunlight shined on it. Somehow, it had become comforting to know that even in that magical place, there were still some things that were bogus. That no one was exempt from stage plays and productions in life.

She didn’t know how long they were in line. She had occupied herself though flitting between her child self and her present self. Allowing herself to enjoy the mixture of colors and the fantastical artwork and then taking note of any indication of its artificiality when she found herself becoming envious of the children who haven’t yet lost the wonder in their eyes.

Haru was silent. At the least they were both comfortably silent.

When they had gotten nearer to the front of the line, that was when she started to remember further, what had made the artworks stick out a little longer.

There is just one moon and one golden sun and a smile means friendship to everyone.

Though the mountains divide and the oceans are wide...

It’s a small world after all. Rin found herself humming the characteristic chorus even preempting the actual music.

For a while she was smiling. For a while, she was enjoying it. It at least lasted until they secured a seat inside the small boat. The combination of the music and the carefree atmosphere as children rushed to the fronts screaming and laughing, made it all the easier for Rin to pretend that one of them was the Rin from ten years ago.

The cacophony of music and laugher and the bombardment of bright colors and lights made it difficult for Rin to feel the lump on her throat and the heaviness in her chest as the boat moved through it.

For a second though, everything was black. It could have been less than a split second, maybe an interval before the scenery changed. It was enough for the lump in her throat to make itself known, and the heaviness in her chest to push a little further. And even as the lights came up again and the scenery changed from fantastical Europe to a rendition of what looked like Arabian nights. Magical Carpets. Asian towers and what could have been a Jungle Book Puppet.

They were as beautiful as the last area. Rin had to note. The lump and the heaviness had taken over though and before Rin could even stop it, she felt a tear slide down her cheek.

The careful and intricate combinations of music and dancing puppets had created a beautiful experience for her as a child. Enough for her to recall the details decades later, everything all the way until the arm around her and the soft voice from her mother.

Stay nearer to the middle Rin, we don’t want you falling out.

Was it all a lie? Was her mother’s concern then a lie? The music was coming from some speakers. The puppets were just carefully choreographed and carefully programmed to make it look magical to a child. If Rin looked at them one by one though, she could see that the movements were too mechanical and repetitive.

Just like her own parents.

Rin had enough control of herself at least to guide herself out of the ride and to navigate among the crowds going out through the exit without bumping into any man. Haru could have been helping her then but at that moment she didn’t care.

She just wanted to get out.

“I’m not going back here again,” Rin said. “It’s fucking fake. Everything in this park is fucking fake.”

Once again, Haru and Rin were on a bench in the middle of the park. Rin was on her second cup of jelly. She appreciated the fact that the jelly and the burst of sweetness that came when it melted on her mouth wasn’t fake at least.

“Of course they are. They’re all man made attractions. If you wanted something real, we could have gone to a safari.”

“Then why do people like it so much?” Why did I enjoy it so much then? Once again, she was envious of the children passing by and the child within her for being able to enjoy something so artificial. Rin swirled the jelly in the cup in anger, completely transforming it into something which resembled pudding and water more than jelly.

“I don’t think people like the rides for the rides or the buildings for the buildings. It’s the atmosphere which makes it something worthwhile. I had fun today. I don’t think I would have had as much fun if I were alone though.”

Rin felt the blood rush into her face and she found herself mixing the jelly in the cup a little quicker, regretting it a second later as it started to feel more like water than jelly.

“It’s getting dark.”

Rin should have noticed the way the bright colors around the park were a little dimmer. She had been too focused on her own memories than what was there in front of her. And as the sky above her gradually shifted from shades of red to purple, Rin had to note that it was an unfamiliar site, particularly the way the colors around her adjusted to the new lighting as the street lights around the park started to light up.

The sun would set at late afternoon during winter. Her parents had always brought her out of the park as soon as the sun started to make its way below the horizon, even before the sky turned a bright orange.

It was a new scenery and with no memory to grab on to, Rin found herself looking at Haru next to her. He was quiet. It wasn’t anything too unusual. A feeling of guilt still washed over Rin as she realized she had spent the whole day focusing on herself and on the memories the park had brought her. She had spent her hours in the park, on the memories of her parents when there was someone next to her, who she could have at least enjoyed it with.

“Hey, before we go home, there’s something I wanna check out.”

Rin did not protest. She followed silently behind him as they made their way through the park. Her legs were aching already from the long walks and she was a little hungry, having only eaten two cups of jelly the whole day. She was starting to feel ashamed of herself and she knew she owed Haru at least that much.

By the time Haru had stopped, the sky was already dark, and the source of the illumination and colors around the park came from the streetlights around them.

They were in an area with bleachers and in front of them was a large body of water that stretched out in both directions.

“A lights show. I just thought it would look cool.” He waved the flier in front of her. “You’ve been to one before?”

Rin shook her head. She had been to Disneyland multiple times, but had never stayed late enough to see it at night.

The streets illuminated by a combination of the street lights and the Christmas lights on the way to the bleachers had been something new to her. As Rin watched as the water shot out of the ground in rhythm to the orchestra music playing in the background and as the colors scattered into different shades of the rainbow from a solid blue, Rin was sure, she had never seen something like that in her life.

The view of Disneyland at night was something completely new to her. It was new. It was exciting. She didn’t even notice the shallow breath she head let out in amazement as smoke appeared from somewhere mixing into the teal and the blue, a rendition very similar to that of the Northern Lights.

There was no unnatural glint of plastic to pick out. No individual movement to analyze. In fact, she didn’t even attempt to, for the first time, she was completely entranced by the performance in front of her.

It was a production, a play, just like the one her parents had made her watch for so many years. Somehow, the colors and the lights looked too authentic.

As it ended, she found herself just sitting, wishing it hadn’t ended, praying for an encore even as the people in front of her started to file out and a voice from some speakers were reminding people to watch their steps as they made their way out.

“You don’t wanna leave yet?” It was Haru’s voice that finally made her accept that the performance was done.

She had a short bout of laughter.  It was an involuntary motion, an instinctive reaction to the situation in front of her. It could have possibly been directed at  her own inability to process that it was over. As she looked at Haru though, she suddenly felt the need give a hard squeeze the hand that was on top of her for a large part of the spectacle.

“It was amazing.” Rin had wanted to say more but found herself at a loss for words. In the end everything from her head spinning in excitement, the blood rushing through her face and what could have been tears of joy or excitement creeping up at the corners of her eyes all culminated into one phrase. “Thank you.”

“It’s my first time seeing you this amazed,” He commented. “So, I guess you felt the magic?”

Felt the magic. It was a joke. An allusion to the introductory lines of the spectacle.

“Yeah I felt it.” As ridiculous as the word play was, Rin found herself playing along.

“Places are fun because of the people there,” Haru said. “I know your past memories in Disneyland are complete horseshit now. But it doesn’t have to be horseshit every single time.”

Rin felt a slight tingle of what could have been a mixture of excitement or assurance that spidered through her whole body. She traced the origins back to her hand he had squeezed in return.

“I’m not your parents Rin,” Haru continued. “Unlike them, I’m not putting up any lies in front of you. I had a lot of fun today.”

Rin had been betrayed enough to know what lies look like, how to pick out an overly rehearsed smile, the mechanics of rehearsed movements and glint. It only followed that she could pick out an absence of it.

Haru’s eyes were looking right at her, the smile a little too small, a little too hesitant to have been something he had rehearsed for a long time before that day.

In fact, he rarely thought his movements and his actions through. Maybe that’s why she had always trusted him. He never rehearsed, he never contemplated the next course of action. His decisions, his actions and words were usually too impulsive and too natural given circumstances to have been rehearsed.

His next few words would probably have been considered awkward to any other woman. Maybe a little too immature. Rin found herself opening up a little more, allowing herself to smile a little a little wider and to lean closer and onto his shoulder.

Her parents were the last thing on her mind. The young Rin and the magic of her experience in that park were a distant memory, all upstaged by the echoes of Haru’s words as they watched the dark stage in front of them in silence.  

Let’s make new memories together.

[softisdangerous]

Excerpt from Chap 17 of Call of the Blood

Eric’s POV - Thursday July 16th & Friday, July 17th, 2009

I closed the bar for the night. Interrogating the drainers had been useless, and their screams were both irritating and loud, but at least Chow enjoyed his work. Pam had been telling me for months that it was time to adjust our styling again, to keep up with the times and that my long hair was getting to the point of ridiculous. I did not like to change my hair, but I was inclined to let her pamper me a bit. I had been short tempered with her, nearly biting her head off at every question she asked me. My ill-temper was only exacerbated by the fact that I was ridiculously thirsty, and the only thing that sounded remotely appetizing to me was Jane’s fresh blood.

But I wasn’t about to put her at risk again. No, I lacked the control to drink from her right now. It was nearly unthinkable that after a thousand years I still couldn’t master all of my bloodlust, but I wasn’t too proud to admit it, if only to myself. It did have me questioning what made Jane so unique. I was beginning to wonder if she was all human, or if she had some latent ancestry that made her blood addictive, and made the drinker…what? What effect did she have on me? Insanity? Obsession?

Love?

I squashed that thought quickly. No, she was just unique and Godric was missing.

Pam was putting foul chemicals on my head and idly explaining what she was doing, but I wasn’t focusing on her words. I was still attempting to think. Godric missing? He would have told me where he was. He had always informed me when he was leaving, even if he knew that I wouldn’t be pleased by his departure. How could he be missing? The drainers had no methods that Godric wouldn’t have been able to overcome. He was too old, too powerful for drainers to have taken him. And based on the conversation of prisoners downstairs, I doubted there was nothing these racists could do that Godric wouldn’t simply be able to bat away. That wouldn’t stop me from questioning him, most vigorously.

I despised the newest addition to the prison in the basement. Royce Allen Williams. It constantly talked, finally admitting shame for past actions, only now, when confronted with imminent demise. I knew these weak types. If released, he would return exactly to his old ways, claim it was an act of God and continue on with dishonorable acts. My teeth were already on edge and then when it discussed escaping… I couldn’t control my rage.

Pam sighed loudly when she heard its plans to escape.

“Don’t fuck up your hair,” she demanded as I stood to go collect it.

“I won’t Pam, I’ll bring it up, let Chow do the dirty work, and then he can put the rat back in it’s cage.”

She huffed, but didn’t stop me.

I strolled down to the basement silently.

“I got a plan. I'm busting us out,” the racist claimed.

“Don't be an idiot,” the V dealer advised wisely.

“I'll come back for you. Promise,” the man claimed. I made some noise so they would know I was coming. I heard their heart rates jump and it was almost enough to make me smile. I hummed softly to myself.

“Shh, Shut up.”

“Shushing won't do you any good, Sweetheart. We hear everything. Since you made me come all the way down here, I'm gonna take out some of the garbage,” I told them as I removed the cape that Pam had placed on me to prevent the chemicals in my hair from staining my clothes. I knelt down in front of the pathetic piece of trash that had burned Malcom, Liam, and Diane’s nest to the ground. “Royce Allen Williams, we have a few questions for you, with regard to a fire which killed three of our kind.” I stared him down.

“No fucking way, man. I don't know anything,” he said, pretending to not be afraid, but I could hear his heart pounding.

“Crimes against vampires are on the rise. We even lost a Sheriff just days ago. We seek answers.” I unchained him and pushed him forward and then, most surprisingly, he turned and struck me across the face.

He screamed at me, “Die, you dead fucker!”

I was furious when I felt the burn of silver against my face, how had I not noticed? The stench of human filth was disgusting and overwhelming. One more reason to not chain prisoners this way; it was impossible to scent silver through the odor.

That silver burn against my skin… it amplified all the emotions I had been trying to resist. My fear, my rage, my bloodlust. It all came pouring forth.

I eviscerated him where he stood, drinking his filthy blood and pulling off several of his limbs. It was, in no way, satisfying. I felt worse than before, still thirsty, and more on edge than ever. I tossed an arm away, and it accidentally splattered against the final prisoner, the V dealer, Lafayette Reynolds.

“If you have any silver on you, now would be the time to reveal it,” I told him.

From his hiding spot behind a post he called out, “No way. I ain't that stupid.”

“Yes, you are,” I replied. And then I noticed how much blood I had on my hands. I went to wipe my mouth and realized I had splattered it all over. “Is there blood in my hair?” I asked the man.

“What?” he responded. Was he an idiot or just hard of hearing?

“Is there blood in my hair?” I asked him again, louder.

“I..I don't know, I can't see in this light,” he stuttered out.

I zoomed over to him.

“How about now?” I asked, looking into his deep eyes.

“Yeah, there's a little bit of blood there,” he stammered, his heart pounded deliciously. At least he was honest. I wished I could scent him more, but all I could smell was the blood of the racist and the foul scent of human waste.

“Well this is bad. Pam is gonna kill me,” I realized out to loud to him.

“Who the fuck is Pam?” he asked and I found it amusing that he had so quickly forgotten his place.

“Why, do you wanna meet her?” I asked, toying with him.

“No. No. I'm good,” he replied, and I found his mock confidence charming.

“Well, you're going to,” I told him as I unchained him.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked as I held him by the back of the neck and pushed him forward.

“To find out what you know,” I explained, kicking the remaining bits of the racist out of the way. “I wouldn't try anything rash if I were you. I'm still hungry.”

I brought him up to the office where Pam and Chow were waiting, I pushed him into the chair opposite the desk as Pam started berating me.

“What the fuck, Eric!” she snapped. “You’ve ruined your hair!”

She had already been upset with me, and now this?

“I’m sorry Pam, it was not my intention,” I told her with a sigh, I didn’t often apologize to her, but it was called for.

I sat on the stool, she put a fresh cape on me, and then she began to assess the damage.

“This is a disaster. We'll have to go much shorter than I planned.”

“Yeah, well, I said I was sorry, Pam. But he took silver to me,” I explained. I looked at the V dealer, Lafayette Reynolds. “You were there. You saw it. Defend me,” I urged him.

“I don't know what it is you wanna know, but point me in the direction, and I give to you,” he told me earnestly and fearfully.

“I've seen your website,” I started, Chow had shown me it earlier. It was an impressive bit of tawdriness, and I was certain it was lucrative. “It's quite, uh, low rent. But your clients miss you, Lafayette. They're wondering if you're ever coming back.”

“Am I?” he asked, and I let the silence linger. “Look, I'm here because of the V, right? How 'bout I give you the names of everybody I ever sold to?” Already so cooperative? Lovely.

“And all this time I thought prostitutes were good at keeping secrets,” Pam snarked, knowing the prevarication of that statement more than anyone. Prostitutes would only keep a secret for a price, and for her the price had always been quite high.

“Don't get it twisted, honeycomb, I'm a survivor first, a capitalist second, and a whole bunch of other shit after that. But a hooker, dead last. So if I got even a Jew at an al Qaeda pep rally shot at getting my black ass up out this motherfucker, I'm taking it. Now, what you wanna know?”

Pam smiled, absolutely delighted, and I could see why. This Lafayette Reynolds was a cut from the exact same cloth as her.

A survivor first, a businesswoman second, and a hooker dead last.

“The vampire you had your little arrangement with. Eddie Fournier. What happened to him?” I asked.

“I don't know. I swear to God I don't. Last time I saw him he was doing real good. But I think he may have been taken by somebody,” Lafayette had hesitated to tell me this information, he must have an inkling of the perpetrator.

“By whom?” I prompted.

“I don't know,” he started. “I mean I ain't sure.”

“Hm, that's not very forthcoming of you,” I told him. I looked over at my enforcer, who had been waiting so very patiently. “Chow, you're up.”

“No! No, chill out. Shit,” Lafayette held up his hand to Chow, motioning for him to stop, and then Lafayette caved. “I think it... I think it was... Jason Stackhouse.”

“Jason Stackhouse?” I asked, nonplussed.

“Sookie's brother,” Pam reminded me in Swedish. “Could be fun,” she added and then I remember him. Handsome, AB negative, and he had come to the bar looking for vampire blood.

“Fun, but also stupid. Sookie is too important for us now,” I reminded Pam. She was an asset, one that I wanted working for me.

“That's true,” Pam agreed, reluctantly.

“Sadly, this information is of no use to me. Not now, anyway,” I told the confused looking Lafayette. Then I moved on to the line of questioning that I had been most anxious to discuss. “I understand dealers of vampire blood sometimes trade product with one another across state lines. Any buyers in the Dallas area?” I asked, revealing some of what I had learned from the drainers before I had killed them. Their blood was all bagged up and sitting in the freezer now, and the irony of draining drainers was not lost on me.

“One,” Lafayette said right away, cooperating fully. “He never gave me his name though. I have an e-mail address. Pussylover9@shemail.com.”

Pam smirked at the email address, and I wondered briefly if she was going to change her online handle.

“A friend of mine in the Dallas area, his name is Godric, has gone missing. Now, while the circumstances of his disappearance are unclear, it stands to reason his blood would be very valuable, as he's over twice my age and ten times the vampire I will ever be,” I said and realized that I had said more than I wanted. That my worries about him were sliding smoothly from my tongue and that I needed to feed again if I was ever going to get myself under control.

“Oh Eric, you don't do humble well,” Pam said teasingly, trying to lighten my mood. She knew with Godric missing, I was more on edge than ever.

“I was not being humble. This happens to be true,” I nearly snapped at her again, and I saw her hurt at my behavior toward her. I focused back on my line of questioning.“Your associate, this ‘pussylover’, has he or she mentioned any new product coming on the market?”

“No, no. And I would tell you. You know that,” he told me and I knew that he was honest, but it frustrated me to no end that he had nothing that could help.

I turned to Chow and asked him, “Take our guest and lock him back out, will you?”

Lafayette jumped to his feet. “Fuck that, I ain't going back down there. I gave you…”

“You gave me nothing!” I shouted, furious that this man had no information that would lead to Godric.

“I'm not going back.” Lafayette tried to push Chow away, and I gave the order again.

“Chow, now.”

Lafayette fought against Chow and I found it curious. I couldn’t help but be impressed by his vigor, his fight, his passion.

“I gave you every... I gave you everything! I ain't going back down!” he continued to shout as Chow manhandled him back down to the basement.

It was then that I heard the sound of an additional human heart beat and the soft scent of roses. I reached out to my blood in Jane and, of course, she was standing in the hall outside the office. What in Hel was she doing here?

The door creaked open and there was sweet little Jane. Her eyes widened as she took in my appearance. Perhaps this would scare her off for good.

“Jane,” I greeted her.

“I guess I should have called,” she said meekly.

“Yes,” I replied. She certainly had the power understatement. I turned to Pam, “Leave us. I need to glamour her.” Pam looked over at Jane and shook her head, leaving the office and shutting the door behind her. Why had Jane even come here? I didn’t want to have to do this, but she left me with no choice! I looked over at little Jane, she looked especially young and doll-like. “I have to glamour you now. You realize that?”

“Why?” she asked, clearly confused.

I prayed for the patience of Baldr, and I rested my hands on my desk. She drove me absolutely insane.

“You saw one of the prisoners, and he recognized you, even. What is to prevent you from telling the human authorities what you saw?” I asked her, and she stared me down.

“I won’t,” she promised. “It’s none of their business. You’re the Sheriff. He was the V dealer, I assume?” she asked, crossing her arms, and pushing her perfect bosom higher.

“Yes,” I acknowledged.

“I won’t tell anyone I saw him. Please… don’t glamour me,” she begged me and I saw her lip tremble in fear. I believed she wouldn’t give up this information knowingly, but her mind was open to any vampire, and now the telepath as well. I had to glamour her, for her own safety.

“It’s too dangerous for you as well. Especially now that you’re friends with a telepath, your silence could incriminate you,” I explained to her. Those dark blue green eyes of hers steeled and I could help but feel proud of her. She could be quite brave, facing something that she feared so greatly.

“What will you do? Make me forget?” she asked.

“That path leads to many problems, as you saw with Ginger. You will retain the memory, but you won’t be able to think of it. You will know, but you won’t be able to say anything about it.” I didn’t want to have to glamour her, and I worried about this.I knew too much glamouring would damage her mind. And her mind was a unique one.

She nodded at me, drawing her courage around her.

I hated this. I remember what she had told me, that it felt like mind rape. I never wanted to make her feel violated, especially in light of the other trauma she had experienced.

“Fine,” she told me and I began the glamour.

“Jane.”

Her eyes glazed over and I imposed my will on her.

“You will not be able to think of the man that you saw Chow take to the basement. You will not speak of what you witnessed to anyone.”

“Of course,” she agreed.

I released her and she lurched to the trash bin, vomiting. Humans and their fluids. I’d had enough of them today. She sat on the couch, and I felt her through the blood. I felt her upset. Why did she do this? It made me hate myself.

“Why did you come?” I asked her.

“I wanted to talk to you. I can see that you’re... busy. I’ll go. I’ll text or call next time,” she told me vaguely, standing to leave. I grabbed her arm, my intention had been to ask her to elaborate, to explain what her purpose was but I felt her warmth beneath my hand and all my urges to devour and claim her came hurtling to the surface. The look she gave me, the feeling from her in the blood...lust. She wanted me. She wanted me even when I was covered in blood.

My fangs dropped hard and I was seconds away from biting her throat and fucking her on my desk.

What the fuck was wrong with me? I released her quickly and forced my fangs up painfully.

“Jane. Things are...tense. With my Maker missing,” I tried to explain, but I really couldn’t. I couldn’t explain my loss of control around her.

“Let me know if I can help,” she offered sweetly.

She had no idea of the danger I posed to her, I shook my head at her. “I will not hurt you again,” I promised her.

She smiled her strange sad smile, the one that made the area where my heart used to pulse ache.

“Goodnight, Eric,” she said softly, and then she left.

What the fucking Hel!? I slammed my hand against the wall, creating a crack in the plaster and I didn’t give a flying fuck.

What was wrong with me?

****

The next evening I took Pam to the mall and allowed her to shop and style me as she pleased. It seemed the very least I could do and having my childe close brought me comfort. I wore Godric’s platinum coated fang around my throat, as if wearing it would allow me to find him.

As we were strolling through the mall, who should we see but Bill fucking Compton.

Then, in a stroke of genius, I had an idea. Bill’s telepathic human could search for Godric. Sookie could investigate the humans at the Fellowship of the Sun and see if Stan’s assertion that they were behind Godric’s disappearance was correct.

“Go to the bar Pam, I’ll meet you there after I negotiate with Billy boy,” I told her. She brushed invisible lint from the navy tracksuit she had dressed me in and then departed with a smile. While it wasn’t what I would choose for myself, I was fine with indulging my child in her game of dressup.

I strolled through the store, and meandered over to Bill.

“Good evening, old sport,” I greeted him, hoping to make him feel at ease. He would be easier to bargain with if he was in a giving mood.

“Eric?” he said, astounded, by either my presence or my new attire, it was hard to say.

“It's the new me. You like?” I asked, smirking. How many times do we have to reinvent ourselves?

“I do. Very much,” Bill agreed, the Mainstreamer he was, he would likely follow all the latest human trends. I almost scoffed at the idea of him wearing one of those hats that truckers wear. The sales associate that had been attempting to hit on him, backed away sheepishly.

“Oh, okay,” she looked between us and I realized that she thought we were a couple. Hilarious, as if Bland Bill could stir my passions.

“We need to talk,” I told him.

He glared and I led him away from the humans and began to explain.

“The Sheriff of Area 9 in Texas has gone missing. Have you heard about that?”

“I hadn't, but I know the vampire of whom we speak. His name is Godric, correct?”

I wondered how Bill knew of Godric. But Godric’s reputation did precede him.

“Indeed. Now it goes without saying he needs to be found. Which is where Sookie comes in. As she's yours, I'm asking your permission to take her with me to Dallas,” I explained my plan to him.

“Eric, you can do whatever you want with me, but I am not putting her in this position anymore. I cannot and I will not allow you to bring her into these matters,” he said, not even attempting to barter with me.

“We made a deal, your human and I. That if I didn't kill, she would work for me as often as I like. Now, you remember this, don't you? You were there,” I reminded him.

“Taking her across state lines is a far cry from taking her to Fangtasia for the evening,” Bill said sternly, clearly not willing to discuss this further. What a fool.

“I'm only asking your permission out of respect. If I want her, I can simply take her. Is "no" your final answer?” I asked him.

“It is,” he said firmly.

I shook my head, and replied, “Poorly played, Bill.”

He wasn’t even willing to try to bargain with me, and I wondered again about his purpose with the telepathic waitress. I checked my phone on the way out of the mall, surprised to see that I missed several calls from Pam. I called her as I strolled out.

“You rang?” I asked.

“Mmm, yeah, the lovely Lafayette Reynolds tried to escape and Ginger shot him,” Pam said in her usual tone.

“Is he dead?” I asked her in Swedish.

“Not yet, our meretricious little Macgyver dug the metal hip out of his dead compadre with his teeth, used it to break his chains, and then attempted to seduce Ginger into letting him go,” Pam explained gleefully. “I like him, can we keep him?”

“Creative,” I commented as I exited the mall. “I’ll be there soon.”

I went behind the mall and took off in flight. I had to stop and pick up the accounting work from Bruce, and then I was able to return to Fangtasia. I strolled into the back, checking over the numbers for the bar. It was scented with rich thick blood, flavorful and powerful...full of untapped potential.

“Sorry to keep you waiting for so long,” I said as I entered the office. “How's the leg?” I asked Lafayette.

“Shitty. Thanks for asking,” he replied with sarcasm at his pain and Pam grinned again.

“After all your proclamations about what a model prisoner you were going to be, you had to try to escape,” I said, curious about his reasoning, but he did say he was a survivor first. I couldn’t really begrudge him that.

“You were going to kill me anyway, right?” he asked next and Pam smirked. We’d certainly have to kill him now, he wasn’t going to make it without medical care.

“Now you'll never know. So, what's it gonna be, Lafayette? Would you like the leg to kill you, or would you prefer us to do it?”

“I'm gonna go with plan C,” he said and he surprised me, such a rare thing for a breather.

“There's a plan C?” I asked.

“Make me a vampire,” he offered.

“I beg your pardon?”

Then he began to make his case, “And you can put me to work in the bar. I'm a good dancer. You seen it on my site. Shit, I get up there and move Earth and heaven, go-go style.”

I came and stood over him, not sure what he knew about vampires and turning. “You are aware there's a gaping hole in your leg? You're damaged goods,” I tested him.

“Not if you turn me. I'll be good as ever.” So he did know at least that much. “Look, I... I'm already a person of poor moral character, so I'll hit the ground running. And I damn near glamour people already. Give me what y'all got, and it's on me, cracker. Not only will I be a badass vampire, but I'll be your badass vampire.”

For a moment, time was frozen. I was sucked into the memory of Pamela asking me to turn her, and me refusing, and her making her case to me. And then her killing herself anyway and I decided… I chose to have her by side, my companion.

My badass vampire.

I liked this Lafayette Reynolds. He lived with a sort of honesty that was rare, and he had shown himself to have the survival instincts and spirit that would take him through the ages. He interested me, and so very few men did. He also reminded me much of Pam and I could see that they would be excellent blood siblings, thick as thieves. It would be good to have youngling around, so fresh and eager...

I scented his rich blood, his untapped potential and….it all intrigued me.

Was I actually considering this, now, with my control all over and Godric missing? Was this just another way in which I was losing touch? No, best not to make any major decisions now. We could start to drink from him now, I could reconsider later, after I’d fed, and had a clearer head. He had a few good nights left in him still.

“Interesting. I'll take it under advisement,” I told him. “Pam, Chow, chowtime,” I offered and Chow grinned at my play on words, puns really were the height of humor.

Then, I leaned over and bit Lafayette.

He was absolutely delicious.

[peachywise]

ailing confessions

stanley uris x reader

– one-shot

– synopsis: Dating in secret sometimes had its perks, but when Stan got sick and all he wanted was you, it got a little hard to come up with a convincing lie to tell the rest of the losers. Hopefully, it didn’t blow up in your face. 

– notes: okay so some of you have asked for a part two to basement confessions, so here it is! it’s unofficial, so you by no means have to read basement confession to read and understand the context of this story. it also works just as well as a standalone. as always reader is they/them pronouns!!! it's an au aged around 19 years old.  

_____________________________________

"What's going on, what's wrong? Is Stan okay?" you shouted out near-breathless, pushing open the slightly ajar door to his bedroom, frantic eyes scanning for any sense of disaster.

When Richie called you, all you heard on the other end of the line was his stifled voice and arguing in the background. You couldn't exactly make out what Richie was saying, but you heard enough to piece together between his swearing trash mouth that you needed to come to Stan's place. You also caught the very alarm-ringing word of "dying." Putting those two things together within the same breath was enough to kick your ass into gear and bail out on work. You didn't even give a passing "bye" to your manager. He owed you one anyway. Last time he went out of town, you babysat his cat and the… the thing threw up on everything. Your shoes, your clothes, in your bag, and even once on your hair as you slept. But that's beside the point. Stan was allegedly dying, and you needed to get to him.

Or that's what you thought.

Taking in the full scene in front of you, your eyes first drifted towards Ben in the corner, pleading for the angry shouting to stop at a safe distance while wearing his puppy-dog eyed disappointed look that worked on you every single time, but barely on the others. Then you saw Bev sitting on the window sill, hand resting on her cheek as she watched the whole thing with a bored but partially affectionate look—like she'd given up on stopping it long ago, though probably hadn't tried very hard to do so in the first place. Eddie was trying to manhandle Stan's to open his jaw, juggling medicine in one hand as he shouted in his particular high-octave, "take the fucking pills, damn it!" Stan, who you might add was also bare-chested, was slapping his hands away like an indignant child, turning his face every which way to avoid Eddie's hands, letting a trail of "no, no, no, no, no," leave his mouth. Eddie managed to actually get the pills in there at one point, but in the end, Stan just spat them back into Eddie's unwitting hand. Eddie shrieked.

Richie, however, had no such panicked fear in his gaze or tone as he had portrayed in his earlier phone call. Instead, he was stood at the base of Stan's bed, cheering the whole thing on like it was some match to the death. And it was about to be. Just not one between Stan and Eddie.

You silently promised to at least give Richie a beautiful funeral-- a dick drawn on his casket and all.

"Hey, trashbitch!" You hollered, stomping up to him and wrapping an arm around his neck, locking him in an unrelenting hold while jerking the tall, gangly boy down to your height. He let out an exclamation of pain followed by a whiny, "what the fuck?"

"Is this the reason you brought me here? To watch Stan not take his medicine? He does this every fucking time! I thought you said he was dying!" Tightening your hold until you brought him to the ground, you both began to pseudo-wrestle. He managed to block any of your pathetic attempts to hit his body. Though, you did manage to smoosh his face against the floor with your hand. Your laugh was victorious, albeit a little maniacal as well.

It was true. This scenario has happened before. While Stan barely ever did get sick, when he did, he made every step on his recovery as tricky as humanly possible. Demonically impossible, even. He was responsible. Probably the most responsible out of all of you, but the moment sickness overtook his body it was like he shifted into this evil brat from hell who only got his kicks on making everyone around him just as miserable as he was. However, you all cared about him too much to just let him get sicker and sicker and sicker by just not doing anything about it. And he knew this.

In short, Stan was a sadistic son of a bitch.

Grabbing your wrist, Richie pulled it off and away from his face, forcing you from your balancing act above him and onto your side. A small gust of air left you at the painful contact of your body hitting the carpet, but your eyes only narrowed in amplified determination. Though his glasses always magnified his eyes anyway, he widened them in a fear that made him look just like a bug so easy to squish.

"Wait, shit, stop," he started, scrambling back as he outstretched his hands towards you, "I meant I was dying because he wouldn't stop fighting us and kept saying all he wanted was you here. Care to explain why that is?"

That stopped you.

Freezing all your limbs like if you didn't move everyone in the room would suddenly forget you were there, you racked your brain for something to say. Another lie, another excuse.

So, maybe you hadn't been exactly honest with them. For a while.

Like… four months.

You and Stan hadn't always gotten along. It was no secret. It had been that way ever since you were at kids. If you were in the same room together, an argument would inevitably follow, and while that still happened, it had changed into something a little different a few months back. During a game of truth or dare, your friends had both dared you and Stan into Bill's basement where you were promptly locked in. You had a substantial freakout. That place gave you the creeps ever since you were a kid—a long story for another day that ended with you having a broken arm—but Stan had calmed you down. And then he kissed you. And you kissed him. And then you made out. And uh, it hadn't exactly stopped since then.

What can you say? You were weak.

The only one of your friends who knew was Bill, and that was because he had caught you two in his basement and promised to hide it from the rest. He'd been pretty good with it so far, apart from the knowing looks and laughs he gave you two whenever you so much as even looked at each other too long. You'd kept up the façade of the still 'friendly' rivalry so far, but it was extremely out of place for Stan to ask for you specifically if he was sick, considering he didn't want anyone around him at all when he was.

You also realized you probably looked a little too panicked running in here and literally attacking Richie because of how freaked you were about Stan.

Couldn't blame yourself for dating a dumbass when it seemed you were one too.

Opening your mouth to finally retort back something along the lines of 'well he probably wanted to torture me by being around him,' instead, you were cut off pretty quick by Stan's voice timidly saying your name, almost like a question. No—hopefully imploring. Blinking once at Richie, you let his question hang in the air as you popped your head back up. Looking over the edge of the bed, Stan repositioned himself to sit up properly, his head slightly tilted to the side, his sleepy eyes surveying you behind his messy golden curls that surrounded his flushed face. Eddie looked like he'd just run a mile, absolutely wrecked as he stepped back with a huff. Stan just looked…adorable. Too adorable. Oh, God.

"You came?"

Stan didn't exactly smile, but his voice took on a sort of up-turned infliction of rosiness that pulled at your heart. He was something akin to sunshine; just his warm look thawed out any of the dread and frustration that had encapsulated you upon arrival. There weren't many moments you two have been able to steal alone as of late. Dating in secret had its own perk of making it more personal, something so securely special between you two and utterly consuming. Unfortunately, when you had a group of friends who barely ever hung out without each other, it left little time to be able to sneak away and successfully have a moment alone. You'd managed okay so far, but in the past month, it'd been hard to pull away from the others. You only got brief little moments of these teasing sunlight streams.

You'd missed him. Yes, you still saw him quite often, but you missed him. Pretending to continually get on each other's nerves is fun sometimes until it gets devastatingly hard and lonely as well. You didn't want to go back to how it was before.

"Of course I did," you spoke softly, your lips twitching up into a small smile that matched the sudden gentleness of your tone.

Then a bottle of Tylenol smacked into your chest in a broken moment, followed by Eddie's exaggerated huff of, "great, it's your turn to babysit now!" He very quickly stormed out of the room, muttering as he did.

Picking up the bottle of pills, you stood up and tried to look anywhere but at your friends. Okay. Maybe no one thought this was weird. This is fine. Normal.

"Of course I did," Richie mocking voice grated your ears, his tone carrying a lilt of impish laughter as he repeated your words back.

Turning your head towards him, you let your smile curve into something more sinister. It was the only warning he had before you launched yourself at him again.

Ben's arms circled around your waist, pulling you away before you got your hands around Richie's neck. Bev placed her small hand on Richie's shoulder as she moved up from her spot to stand behind him. The asshole was startled enough that he actually jumped. I mean, you were talented, but it's not like you could fucking teleport.

"Mike and Bill are going to the pharmacy to get some more medicine, so while we wait, how about we go make Stan some soup?" Bev offered, flashing a look towards Ben who dropped his hold on you as soon as you stopped struggling.

Ben smiled. "That sounds like a good plan." As both moved towards the door, you turned to watch, thankful that they were giving you the chance to be alone with Stan but wary of the knowing looks they were casting to each other as they went. Richie, however, stayed right where he was. Bev stalled at the doorframe, raising a red brow and offering a short, "Rich, you coming?" It seemed to snap Richie into place immediately, as he grumbled something about unfairness and how they never made soup while he was sick, before exiting the room and shutting the door behind him with an almost resounding click.

Finally alone.

"Hi."

Turning back around, you watched as Stan's face broke in a feverish looking smile, happiness seeping out of him, unrestricted. You'd never quite seen him that way before. Giving an amused shake of your head, you motioned for him to scoot over a bit before sitting on the edge of his bed, setting the medication on his side table. "Hi," you repeated back with your own little smile, reaching over to press your hand to his forehead.

He closed his eyes at your touch, practically melting as he reached up to clasp your hand, though still keeping it against him. "You're cold," he murmured, his voice taking on a sleepy tone.

"I'm not cold, you're just hot," you pointed out with a short chuckle, removing your hand to drop it back on your lap, though he still clasped onto it.

"And you're beautiful." His smile was languid as he obviously either ignoring your hot comment was because he had a fever or because he was utterly ignorant to your actual meaning due to his muddled mind. Either way, it was all the same. Your cheeks still got warm at his comment, still unused to such compliments coming from him.

"Wow, sick Stan really lays it on thick, doesn't he?" You joked, standing up from your position. Stan reached out to grab your hand again, an almost panicked expression crossing his face. You let out an amused laugh. "I'm just taking off my jacket, you baby." Slipping off the restrictive article of clothing, you tossed it onto the corner chair before moving back to his side. "Wanna tell me why you asked specifically for me? It wasn't enough to stress Eddie out of ten years of his life?"

Stan slipped back to lie down, bringing his comforter up close to his face as he clutched it, glowering at you like you'd said the most offensive thing in the world. "No," he murmured, "I just wanted to see you. I miss you."

You sat back down on the bed and slightly brushed his curls off his forehead, letting your fingers linger slightly as you stroked his hair a few times. It seemed he felt the distance between you two just as jarringly. Continually holding back in front of the others, unable to touch his hand, or let your gaze linger too long without being watchful. It was exhausting. "I miss you too," you spoke in almost a whisper. Stan leaned into your touch.

You both sat like that for a bit in companionable silence, merely taking each other's features in, a scene of subtly intimacy and comfort. It only broke when Stan scooted over more, lifting the blanket up and stating a simple, "come here."

And then you realized what that little shit was actually doing.

He was trying to distract you. And he almost succeeded.

Straightening your back a bit, you gave him a coy look as you grabbed the medication bottle from the table and the glass of water sitting next to it. Holding it out to him, almost like a trade, you asked, "will you take your medicine?"

Stan's face scrunched together, showcasing his deep consideration at the challenge presented to him. Such a thoughtful look would rival those of the best Philosophers. Fuck you, Aristotle.

"No."

Well then. Fuck you, Aristotle and Stan.

"W-what?"

Shit. You said that out loud.

Ignoring that, you set the medicine and water back down again, standing up and moving towards your coat. Without a word, you began to shrug it back on. Stan's scrambled at that, clawing out of his covers and sitting up straight, a panicked question of "where are you going?" escaping him.

"Clearly you don't need my help," you shrugged, turning back to face him with a knowing look. "You have it all under control. I don't need to comfort someone who's not sick enough to take their medicine."

Stan narrowed his eyes. Like actually, physically narrowed his eyes at you like you were the one being the brat in this situation. You just glared back at him. The tension between you two may have started this impromptu staring contest, but there was no way you were losing it.

And then it began to reach over the two-minute mark, and your eyes started to water. Fuck.

Blinking your eyes with a groan, you cut Stan off before he could rub the win in your face. He always did that. "Let's make a deal!" you nearly shouted, walking back up to his bedside. "You take your medicine, and I'll lay down with you for just a little while. We don't want your body temperature going up any more than it is."

Stan crossed his arms over his chest. He was silent for a moment, taking on that contemplative look once again. "Deal. But you also have to kiss me."

Wow. Such a romantic proposition.

Your hesitation in accepting wasn't so much the fact that he was sick-- though, it really should have been-- or the fact that you didn't want to. You did. You really, really, did. It was just the fact that all your friends were outside that door, and knowing them, they would burst in here at any moment.

Stan seemed to read your hesitation for what it was. He always seemed to know what you were thinking. You thought he was going to argue, or simply retract his statement, but Stan surprised you. "I don't care." Your face must have turned perplexed, because immediately he began to clarify, "I don't care if they know. I'm tired. I'm tired of missing you, I'm tired of holding back and pretending like all we want to do is rip each other apart, when quite frankly there's only one thing I want to rip off of you." Okay, either you were getting his fever, or your whole body flushed at that single comment. With a hard look, he leaned over and grabbed the pill bottle, shaking two out and swallowing them back without even any water.

"So what's it going to be?"

Sick Stan was slowly turning into your favourite Stan. Guess he wasn't taking no as an answer. And who were you to not reward him?

Letting out a light laugh, you took your jacket back off and sat beside him. "It's a deal," you smiled, setting a gentle hand on his warm cheek. "But you're the one who's going to have to tell them. It's only fair since you're obviously getting the better end of the deal." Leaning down, you shut your eyes as you placed a soft kiss on his lips. Stan put a gentle hand on your arm, almost sighing contently at the contact. Affection rolled off you two in waves, but before you knew it, you'd both parted with tender smiles, foreheads touching.

"That's not a real kiss."

Confusion crossed your features, but it quickly turned into shock when Stan gave your arm a hard tug, bringing you down to the bed on top of his chest. Wrapping his too-hot arms around you, essentially caging you against him, his lips met yours again in greedy haste. Bracing your hands on his chest, you moved them up closer to his neck as every part of you lit up where you touched. His hand snaked under your shirt and up, leaving a trail of fire in its wake as his thumbs brushed your skin so gently. You still shivered despite the heat. The kiss was almost persistent, desperate as he tried to pull you closer, tighter. He didn't want to let go, and neither did you.

He broke off for a moment, his lips trailing to your jaw to give you both a moment to breath. His kisses turned breathless and gentle once more, and you pushed up from your position to stare at him with an incredulous look. "You sure you're actually sick?" you chuckled, twisting off to lie down next to him, snuggled into his arm.

"I feel great," he argued back, just before a small coughing fit racked over his entire body. Liar, liar.

Moving away, you began to sit up, laughing as you said, "okay, okay, I don't want your germs." Stan pouted as he rolled on top of you and rested his arms on either side of your head, trapping you once again.

"Don't leave," he complained, bending his head down to leave a trail of kisses on your neck, cheek, lips. "You love me and my germs," his voice murmured against your skin, his lips pulling up into a grin. You playfully began to swat him away, laughter really erupting from his onslaught attack. He captured your lips once more, hands sliding up your sides, devastatingly unrelenting. But there was no struggle from you as you wrapped your arms around his neck, moving your lips against his after he teasingly nipped your bottom lip.

He didn't even make a motion to pull back after Eddie's angry voice seemed to bounce off the walls of the room with the jarring statement of, "oh that's so gross, you're going to get sick!"

Turning your head as Stan grumbled into your neck, something along the lines of 'they always ruin everything,' you saw all of your friends at the doorway gaping at you two without a damn word to say about it. The only one who made any motion or reaction was Eddie who literally threw his hands up before storming out again, going on about how "it's not my job to take care of two idiots. I'm not going to do it, I'm not!"

With a small smirk, Bev pushed past both Richie and Ben and shut the door with them behind it, giving you a little wink.

Looks like the cat was out of the bag.

And oddly enough, as Stan smothered you up, you couldn't care one little bit.

[bread-elf]

Where is Jiroki now?

The wind bellowed across the snowy landscape and spurred it along the decaying corpses, frozen by now as remains of Scourge and Cultists lay in heaps. But new cultists always reappeared, and the dead always rise again with having no King to yield control. Leadership of the world gathered in Icecrown often, some having gone beyond the hole in the sky to places no mortals are meant to walk, on the hunt after the Banshee. Rumors often spread of strange lands in the beyond, how there is so much more than any thought possible, but Jiroki always had the personality of a skeptic. But such thoughts steered clear from her mind as she lined her sights, releasing her docked arrow and watching as it penetrates the skull of a ghoul. Quick as can be she pulled out the next one as more came at her, but she had nothing to fear as a large green figure rushed ahead of her. A large staff in hand, bearing a mask fitting for any well practiced Witch Doctor, the troll pummeled a wave of the oncoming corpses with a single blow. They fell in a heap, but more still were on route, and the ones before the Revantusk troll were beginning to piece themselves together again.

Coming from his left an Orc huntress joins him, dual wielding double bladed axes dripping with ichor, wearing her own skull mask more fearsome than the undead she faced, she aids her comrade in the slaughter of the Scourge, giving off an eerie shrill of a laugh every now and then. Jiroki had never dealt with those of the Laughing Skull clan before, but she grew appreciative that she wasn’t the one facing those blades right now. “Where the hell are they?!” Jiroki sneers out loud to herself as she glances around the blurry snowscape. She had sent some of her mercenaries to infiltrate a burrow where members of the Cult of the Damned lurked, and she started to think she should have gone with them with much time started to tick by. But as if on cue she not only hears but feels a distortment in reality near her, turning in alarm, and out pops a Ren’dorei male she had sent with the others. “Ow, my hip!” Ianasrial, also known as Ian, had bleeding gashes along his torso and arms, but favored his hip as he held a hand on it and nearly buckled at the knees, but he remains standing as he uses his free arm to give a mock salute towards his Shield Mother while nearly doubled over. “We got it, boss! The others are routing back!” “It’s about time.” Jiroki looks back towards the Scourge. Now she was starting to see that they were becoming less organized, not stitching together fast enough as they became feral in their ways. Still very much a big problem, but they can be culled and pushed back now. The Laughing Skull Orc had managed to push herself through the Scourge and descend further, getting too far away for Jiroki’s comfort, and the troll was starting to back track. “Rii’mah be havin’ a spree, I’ll fish for her latah.” Zim’bowa the Witch Doctor speaks, his voice piercing through the wind. “We should meet wit’ de others.” “Yea some of them are battered. But hey, it’s getting easier facing the Scourge each time!” Ian cracks a joke, but earns a glare from Jiroki. “Don’t joke about things like that.” “This is, what, third, fourth time I’m facing the Scourge now? I think I get a fucking pass for making jokes.” Jiroki could hear the lace of void amplifying in Ian’s voice; despite her prude nature, she didn’t need to question Ian’s distaste for the Scourge in the slightest. Without anyone even realizing it Rii’mah had made her return, blood and gore splattered all over her. The stench of death clung to the Orc, making Jiroki’s nose wrinkle, but she didn’t dare show distaste for it around the crazed one. Her head tilted side to side, cracking each way as she let out a breath of satisfaction, blood lust sated for the time being. “Let’s rendezvous with the others and head back, we still have a lot of work to do.” Jiroki is the first to turn and head back to one of the Argent outposts she and her Greyshields were assisting with, and the others followed. ~~~~~~~~ Jiroki carefully cleaned her armor and weapons inside her tent, mindful of the stain of the Scourge and not wanting to accidentally inflict their foul magic on herself. With her stood Drax’ara, doing the same with his own daggers, having gone with the other team that infiltrated and sought the Cultists. They shared the silence, just grateful for one another’s presence in these times. “How are the kids?” Drake ends up asking, the male Kaldorei sitting in a chair as he cleans his weapons, setting the cleaned ones down on a table beside him. “They’re fine, they’re with my sister in Shattrath. Did you want to see them soon?” Jiroki had chosen to stay standing in front of the table, her bow already cleaned but now addressing individual arrows she had retrieved, needing all that can be spared. “Yea, I do. When we have a bit more hands out here though, I don’t want to jeopardize anything.” Setting down his final dagger he stretched his legs forward, wiping his hands down on a cloth and then stretching his arms above his head. “I’m still waiting to hear back from my brothers.” “Hm.” Jiroki tried to keep her focus on her weapons, but her mind raced with current events, and she tried to remind herself to breathe. “Aztook should be back soon, he left to get something from the Black Temple. Once he’s back, you should go see them, before anything else happens.” As if yet again on cue there’s movement from the entrance of her tent. Jiroki half expected to be Aztook her mate in question, but coincidentally enough it was another Demon Hunter. Her half brother, Alldreas, pulled aside the tent flap to peer his sightless gaze in. “Jiroki, we need to talk.” Alldreas had always been prone to pestering Jiroki for fun when they initially first met and even when she had learned they were partially blood related, but that started happening less since Teldrassil burned. So now when he insisted they speak, she knew it was for something. As she turned and left her things there Drake remained in his seat, reaching over to claim one of her arrows to clean for her, and she stepped out into the chill. “What is it?” Jiroki peers up at the taller elf. “Your former enemy Zest and I have encountered some ‘unique’ individuals that you should meet.” Alldreas wore a blindfold that covered his eye, but the blazing fire of fel could be seen through them. “But they’re over in Stormwind, so you need to make haste.” “What? Why should I meet them?” Though Zest now partnered with the Greyshields, he was renown for siding with a Warlock during the Legion invasion who tried to eliminate all the Greyshields, now only running with them out of fear and so that Jiroki could keep an eye on them. “Why are you with Zest anyway? You know not to trust anything he says.” “I don’t trust him, but I implore you to go see these people, for I have seen them myself. They speak of the Shadowlands, and are looking to meet adventurers such as our ilk. This may be a way for us to get more involved and help.” There’s a flare in the fire in his eyes, as if expressing his inner emotions. “Wait, the Shadowlands? But…” Alldreas danced around the subject instead of describing these individuals bluntly. Jiroki grinds her teeth, but she lets out a sigh. “Fine, I needed to head to Stormwind soon anyway, I’ll see them while I’m there. But you’re coming with me.” ~~~~~~~~ Once in Stormwind Alldreas right away led his half-sister to where they had to go, walking to the more deserted and shady parts of Stormwind. Jiroki already started to get uneasy with where they were going, but she trusted Alldreas enough that he would not lead or astray. Or would in the least be the first to catch wind of trouble and alert her. Down an alley they walked until Alldreas stopped dead in his tracks, Jiroki nearly bumping into him as a result. She looks around, seeing no one and nothing out of the ordinary in sight, and she stands beside him to take a look at his face. All he did was just stare ahead. “What is it?” Jiroki asked, a brow raised high. “Is your demon struggling again?” “No, she is cooperating.” Alldreas speaks in return, still staring ahead. “They see us. They will make themselves known when ready.” The hairs on the back of Jiroki’s neck start to stand at that, glancing around now. They were both being watched, assumingly by these people Alldreas wanted her to meet, yet she still had no idea who or what they are. But that doesn’t take long to answer as a figure starts to come from the shadows. “Ah, it is you again.” A rich, exotic, otherworldly, and deep voice speaks towards the demon hunter. “I am impressed you found us so easily; perhaps we need a new approach to this city. Is this the one you had spoken of?” At first Jiroki thought she was looking at an Ethereal, but this was no ordinary one if that. A humanoid figure of clothing and armor with a blue flame flickering behind a floating face guard, taller and much more regal attire compared to the Ethereals that wore mostly wrappings to display their forms. But something stirred in the pit of her stomach, something that told her this thing wasn’t meant to be here, and it caused goosebumps to rise on her skin. “This is my half-sister, and the leader of the mercenaries I run with. She would be the one to speak with about the work you have.” Alldreas redirected the conversation to Jiroki, and the being gave a bow from the waist. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ma’dam. I am called Te’ani; I had heard some wondrous praise of your group of adventurers from your fascinating brother here. I am very much interested in procuring some items from your realm, and he reassured me that you and I could form a business relationship with one another.” Jiroki shot a quick glare towards Alldreas, the two already have spoken more with one another than she had been told, and she looks back to the strange being. “What is it that you have offer in payment? We’re very busy as is.” Her words didn’t seem to face Te’ani, though she couldn’t tell much from him anyway. “My partner and I are still learning the ways of your world’s currency and market value, but we have an assortment of items from where we’re from that should interest you. That, and we have means to guide you to even different realms where you can assist the heroes of your realm.” “What do you mean?” “I come from the Shadowlands. There is much, much, much, to do over there, many souls to be rescued, many planes of existence suffering from the drought that need aid. I know well enough that there is a notorious figure your world wants dead treading the Maw, and they have the upper hand as the Maw’s forces grow stronger. With the terms I discussed with your brother; if you help me procure items from this realm, I can assist with having a stable way for you and yours to go too and fro in the Shadowlands. But I am more than happy to discuss further details with you, since it seems he did not share anything with you.” Jiroki could almost hear the sass coming from the being if that was what it was, and Jiroki looked up to Alldreas once again to see the twitch of a smirk forming at his lips. She nearly growled, but kept herself quiet as she couldn’t deny the curiosity growing inside of her. “I think I’d like to discuss this more with you as well.” Jiroki tried to ease herself into this conversation with this strange being from the land of the dead, but her head already spun with ideas and possibilities, already deep down knowing she had made a decision for herself anyhow. This is a business opportunity she will not refuse.

[silvensstorycorner]

Things I wanted to say

My friends have been having a holiday/New Year's sleepover every year on New Year's Eve since high school. We'd see a movie, then go to one of our houses for hot pot, then hang out until the ball dropped, drinking sparkling apple cider and white grape juice out of wine glasses as we watched, chatting in a blanket pile oozing off the couch until we dozed off to Netflix and woke up to make a sleepy breakfast in pajamas. Things have adapted over the years: we don't go out to a theater for a movie anymore usually, and oftentimes not all six of us can be there, but it's still New Year's. And usually I love it.

I don't really know what happened in 2018. It was at Sophia's house that year (the regular spot), but for some reason, it was a lot more...all-out. She invited us plus boyfriends plus anyone we wanted to bring. She told me to invite my roommates so they all could meet them (my roommates declined). My family was invited. So Mom, Dad, my brother, and I all went this time instead of just me, and even though I had been going to her house for seven years and was comfortable with the normal level of unusual chaos that passed through its walls, this time I walked through the front door and very quickly felt...bad.

There were at least ten more people than just us six, some old friends (not as close but still friends) from high school, some I hadn't met before. Her three kid cousins were running around the place. The entire kitchen island was made into a bar, with twenty or thirty bottles of alcohol and a handful of types of edibles. Some were probably already tipsy. There was hot pot and fondue and trays of snacks and charcuterie and so much lying out for the picking.

It wasn't New Year's. It was a party.

And I do not like parties.

From that evening in 2018 for over a full 24 hours into 2019, I was choked up, holding back tears, not saying much most of the time because talking made it harder not to cry. My family left after a couple of hours because they weren't going to stay the night. I mentioned that I kinda might’ve wanted to go home, too, feeling like shit for breaking tradition but also currently feeling like shit from whatever new anxiety-inducing thing was happening to me, but my parents are bad at subtext and listening and laughed and asked what I was talking about and left.

I remember a few moments when I felt okay. Exchanging gifts, I think, and the following day, when only three of us were still there, we watched a bad low-budget horror movie. I felt content then. On the other hand, I lost hold and ended up crying three or four times, alone or in the dark or behind my hair so no one knew because no one likes a downer.

But then it's New Year's Day, and the sun is beginning to dip, and it's finally acceptable for me to go home. I go into the master bedroom to change out of pajamas into clothes, and Sophia's there, collecting things to go take a shower. I forget what small talk happened before because after a beat, she says, "Hey, are you alright? You didn't seem as joke-y earlier."

I choked up again because typical goddamn bodily response. We're turned away from each other, and I was either halfway through putting on a shirt or in a bra and holding my shirt. The silence stretched too long, so I squeaked out something. Probably "I'm fine." She looked over and asked if I was sure, and I broke.

She goes into mom friend mode and asked what happened, what was it, and I said it was nothing, I had been trying not to cry since first stepping into the house, and she immediately hugs me from behind as I'm standing there crying. My throat won't work without making the tears worse. I want to tell her I didn't know exactly what happened but I knew the pieces. That I had developed depression 4-6 months prior. That I had failed the semester because of it. That I was put on academic probation because of it despite my prior 3-year, 3.6 GPA. That I didn't know if my international internship and scholarships were in jeopardy. That I didn't drink because alcohol is repulsive, in scent and implications and cultural obsession. That I can smell the moment someone opens a bottle of wine from two rooms away. That the scent sometimes gives me a headache. That the smell of weed is even worse and gives me a migraine. That I was paranoid that college had changed my friends so much that they'd give me alcohol or weed without telling me. That talking about relationships and making innuendos and teasing me for not understanding them made me want to hide under a blanket. That even though everyone was nice and amicable, they weren't supposed to be here because it was our thing. That I don't like children and having to listen to and entertain her three cousins for twenty-four hours made my spine bristle. That I was afraid my discomfort around children would be taken as insulting her family. That the usual blaring kitchen stereo and the shouting from stairs and the scream singing and the mock nagging yells about how I was cleaning dishes slowly and wrong when I could've been not doing them at all really hit a nerve this time. That I was hiding this from my very best friends because I was confused and felt silly and illogical for not having fun at my favorite event of the year, the one time I see some of these people anymore after we spread out across the world for college and life, especially when everyone else was enjoying themself. That maybe everyone had grown up and outgrew me in college because they enjoy drinking and smoking and dating and sex and I don't, and I was just a buzzkill in an environment no longer fit for me. That I knew I was wrong. That most to all of this was a product of depression putting thoughts in my head and amplifying responses and that there was no way to anticipate or adjust to it, and that I didn't know when it would get better. That she wasn't a therapist and had her own troubles to worry about and I had no right to shoulder my own onto her, too.

But while all that and more is flying by in bits and pieces in my mind, my throat betrayed me and knotted up, leaving me standing there, clutching my shirt, staring up at the ceiling with tears streaming and breaths quickening to stuttered hyperventilation as my friend hugged me, and all I managed to choke out was that I didn’t like alcohol before the meager admittance activated a defense mechanism and shut me up with unabated sobbing.

Eventually, it subsided. She asked me if I wanted to take a shower instead, but I declined. I put on my shirt proper and sat on the bed, wiping my face while she took a shower with the door open so she could ramble nothings and tell me about new books she got and stuff her animation professors said.

We've never talked about it again, and I don't know if she told our other friends. Within the hour, one friend made another innuendo and laughed with a teasing reminder that sex and love exist and there's nothing I can do to stop it, and while Sophia didn't say anything directly, she looked at me and then changed the subject to something unrelated.

She checks up on me every few months, asking how I am with a little more insistence than someone who uses it as a casual opener.

The following year, I was worried whatever that was would happen again. I still had depression, I had failed one class for a second time, and both my childhood dogs and my grandmother had died within six months. I even put off going to Sophia’s a bit by going to see Star Wars in theaters with my family beforehand.

But when I walked in the door, the last to arrive, it was already better. My family didn't stay--they didn't even come in with me so they wouldn't rile up the dogs. There weren't crowds or kids or deafening music or a kitchen littered in liquor. There were just my friends, standing around the hot pot, with meats and gyoza and only one or two bottles of wine and sparkling juices and a whole roast ham.

I walked up to the table, bags in one hand and petting giant dogs with the other, but before I even get a greeting out, Sophia asked if I was okay. I froze, afraid my fears were that obvious and thinking they thought I was avoiding them and didn't love them anymore and feeling a weight begin to form in my throat. But she said my complexion seemed off or pale or something. I said I was fine, she said cool, the broth just started boiling, come get meat, and that was that.

That night, sitting in front of the fire, opening presents by the tree, I did cry again, because I was laughing harder than I had in a long time.

[deddie-eddie]

Hypocrisy in fandom.

TW // suicide, suicide baiting, harassment

.

.

.

Yesterday, I nearly killed myself.

I was in the midst of a breakdown, I was shaking so hard I couldnt breathe, and if I wasn't I likely would have been able to open the pill bottle and I likely would have gone through with it.

I had to be talked down via phone call while I was on a camping trip with my family.

But why?

Two days ago, I did something awful. I found a "pedo struggling" account, run by an anti, who was posting screenshots of me and my friends, and called them out.

Little did I know, this would be the start of something horrible.

It started out fine. I made a couple jokes, laughed along at other proshippers in the comments, and it was all fine.

Then, the account posted a vague tweet. "They won't stop." I thought this was funny, so I poked more fun at them. Watched them squirm as they replied to my friends in shaky, broken English. I called it crytyping. I mocked them for it. I assumed I knew what I was talking about and instead of realizing that they were having a breakdown, I assumed that they were being performative and made some horrid accusations in a long callout thread about them. I posted screenshots of them as they replied with, what I thought was, performative nonsense. I privately mocked them. To summarize, I did something entirely, unarguably, factually awful. I made assumptions I had no right to make and acted on them in the worst way.

Then I went to bed.

When I woke up, I had hundreds of notifications. Spammed messages of "deactivate," "how could you do something like this," and a barrage of fancams.

It had come out that the person I was mocking was having a genuine panic attack, and that I had mocked them in a time of immense struggle and pain. I had no right to mock them in the first place, but now that it was genuine, my actions were amplified.

I finally took more than two seconds to think about what I'd done, and realized I was a huge, giant, absolutely massive asshole. I deleted the thread, released a long apology, and tried to take every comment and all my criticism in stride. I was still getting a lot of hate. That was understandable. I knew I didnt deserve to be forgiven yet. I let it be. I didnt tweet anything else for fear of it seeming like I wasnt taking this horrible situation seriously. I sincerely, honestly replied to people asking me why, how, and what I thought I was doing. They had every right to know. Still, the cries of "deactivate" rolled in. I knew I deserved them.

Then, it got worse.

I got a comment. I checked it.

"I dont usually say this but ummm... you should kys."

My heart raced. It had been a while since someone had told me to kill myself. I knew I had fucked up but I didnt realize just how hard, if people were really telling me to kill myself. But i brushed it off. It was one comment. I deserved it.

But it kept. Coming.

More people. "Deactivate," "kill yourself," "you're a freak." All day. Every minute I'd have a new notif, and every moment a new threat. "You'll be alone forever." "I hope you rot alone." I knew I had to take it because I had inadvertently sent people to harass that person. I didnt deserve to be forgiven. I still dont.

People watched my follower count drop. So did I. I lost mutuals I had interacted with for months. I lost people who said that they would always be there for me. I lost people who used to call me their best friend.

I had no one ask me for my side. No one that i was close to, anyway. None of the tens of people who told me that they cared about me, that they loved me, that theyd always be there for me. Not a single one of them was there to ask me. They all read the same callout post, and came to the same conclusion. That I was a horrible, unforgivable person. And I dont blame them for that. Sometimes I think I am too.

Then they kept going even more. More hate. More callout posts, except now people were making things up. They were lying and I couldnt do anything about it because I was in the wrong and not to be redeemed. Old friends took the sides of people who genuinely suggested that I die or kill myself, and people who said they loved me were handing over screenshots to these people in hopes that they wouldnt get thrown under the bus.

They took old things that I said and did and exaggerated them, posted old DMs out of context, and when they couldnt manipulate my words they just didnt provide evidence at all. They had that power. They had the power to lie about me and I had given it to them.

More people joined in. There was a hashtag spread of me. #staymadeddie on twitter. Look it up if you think I'm lying. People tried to get this trending.

After over a day and a half of NOTHING but constant harassment, I started to think I should take their advice. If I was dead, I'd finally be quiet, and theyd get what they wanted. If I was dead, they wouldnt yell at me anymore. They wouldnt harass me. I would be free.

They managed to make me feel like this in a day and a half.

I had a public breakdown. I screamed over the internet, phone held in shaking hands as I tried not to sob in earshot of my family. I frantically pleaded to what little I had left that they stop. I begged to know what they wanted from me. I asked if they really wanted me to die. I begged them to leave me alone. I threw my phone at my bed, ran to the med cabinet, and grabbed a bottle of pills. If I hadn't been shaking so hard, I'd have opened it. If I had opened it, I dont like to think about what I might have done. I was flooded with comments telling me to get help. Close friends begged me not to do what I wanted so badly to. They dmed me left and right, but i ignored it. I felt numb. Everything had been hurting so much that when presented with death felt almost better. Obviously that was a ludicrous thought. It was a day and a half. I was being rash. But I didnt care. I couldnt take it anymore. I'm 15, I have severe anxiety and depression. When overwhelmed, my impulsive thoughts and actions take over.

A friend called me and had to talk me down over phone call while I was camping with my family. It was successful, of course, but the rest of the day I was plagued with a deep depression that left me feeling hollow and worthless. I still cant keep my thoughts away from it. I think about all the people I've lost. All the people who, in their eyes, I'm dead to. All the people who swore they'd be with me, but when push came to shove they couldnt even spare me a glance.

My crime was harassing a minor. I made assumptions I had no right to make and publicly blasted someone for having a panic attack. In no way was that okay and in no way am I entitled to be forgiven. However, I deleted the post. I released an apology. I took criticism as best I could, without blaming my actions on anything or anyone but myself. I did what they always tell you to do when you fuck up.

But it didnt work.

I *was* genuinely sorry.

I *did* recognize my mistake

I *tried* to make amends.

I *didn't* pass blame.

I fucked up. Hard. But no matter what I did no one would stop. I lost close friends. I lost a best friend. It almost seemed like I'd made it worse.

There is no moral. Because real life isnt black and white. I did an awful thing. These people did awful things too. There is more than one victim here. In people's quest to gain justice for me harassing a minor, they harassed a minor into near suicide and laughed at it.

Dont forget that behind EVERY account there is a real person. Be they adult or child, everyone will fuck up and even though in general we need to think before we post, like I clearly didnt, it is possible to learn from our actions and one negative one doesn't define a person.

I'll say this again.

To some people, people I trusted, people who said they cared about me, i am dead. They hate my guts. I'll never be redeemed. But I'm expected to improve myself with this knowledge. I'm supposed to take all the hate and never speak about the hate coming my way for fear of trying to victimize myself.

No. Fuck you.

I AM a victim. I was harassed as much as they were, and even though I threw the first stone, I never told anyone to die. I never lied about anyone. I didnt cancel them. I learned my mistake and apologized, but I KNOW that NO ONE will EVER be expected to apologize for what they did to me.

What I did was horrible. I am not entitled to forgiveness. I will repeat that a hundred times. But to beat me down until I'm nearly dead, to call me a freak and a pedo and a disgusting person, to tell me to kill myself, then laugh when I call myself a victim, is disgusting.

I DON'T deserve this, and I'm tired of having to pretend like I do.

By all means. Criticize me. Make jokes. Be harsh. But do NOT tell me to kill myself over a lack of forethought, and then have the guts to call yourself a "protector of kids." You're not.

You're only out to protect your friends, and the people who agree with you, other people's lives be damned. I dont matter to you. And you'll never admit that you hurt me.

[nadziejastar]

I have a theory regarding Saix's hatred of Xion. Xion is the personification of Sora's memories of Kairi. It is heavily implied that Kairi was wrapped up in the experiments at Radiant Garden, as were Lea and Isa. I wonder, was the connection to Kairi somehow dredging up bad memories? Just a thought.

“Aeleus, where is the girl?” Xehanort asked.

“She’s asleep…” Aeleus pointed to the capsule room in the back.

The girl was very particular—unique among people. They had not been able to create any Heartless using her heart. Perhaps because she was too young, or perhaps…

Xehanort disappeared into the capsule room.

Yeah, I wish we learned exactly what was done to Kairi. In the novels, it said they tried to create darkness using her heart, but were unable to. So, she was definitely experimented on.

One of the Ansem Reports mentioned trying to “cultivate darkness in a pure heart”. But beyond that? I have no clue. I honestly have no idea if Kairi herself being related to Xion had an impact on Saïx’s memories. Especially since Saïx couldn’t even “see” her. I think the story may have just been written that way because all those characters had something in common.

Lea and Isa were test subjects. Kairi was, too. And so was Ventus. He was Master Xehanort’s original guinea pig. Ven’s story is actually a lot like Xion’s. He wanted to sacrifice himself to protect his friends and not be used as a human weapon. Isa probably had a similar backstory, so there were a lot of parallels to him and Xion.

Saïx’s connection to Kairi was probably more indirect than direct. I think the Replica Project was innately tied to the original experiments, and that might have influenced why Saïx hated Xion so much in particular, in addition to his jealousy. It was just his hatred for Replicas in general because of what he knew about them and how they were created. That’s what brought back memories. 

One thing I am sure of is that they are entirely devoid of emotion. Perhaps further study will unlock the mysteries of the heart. Fortunately, there is no shortage of test samples. They are multiplying underground even as I write this report.

I don’t think Saïx’s feelings about Replicas make sense without his past as a human test subject. I think what Axel said in Re:CoM was meant to be a hint of his and Isa’s involvement in the experiments. Unlike Kairi, Lea and Isa were most likely made to directly interact with the Heartless in order to study their behavioral principles.

There is no doubt that the Heartless are deeply connected to the people's hearts. Further study may unravel both their motivations and the mysteries shrouding the heart. As a start, I have built a device that artificially creates Heartless. By recreating the conditions that spawn the Heartless naturally, I should be able to produce them artificially. This may be a step toward creating a heart from nothing.

Also, Lea and Isa were probably involved in an experiment to create a heart from nothing. Or in other words, a heart made out of data. This experiment involved in recreating the original conditions that spawned the Heartless naturally. The original experiments caused the subjects’ hearts to collapse. So, that experiment involved something very dark happening to them.

“Oh ho. So it’s a fight you want. Very well! Fight me, if you can!”

That was exactly the method by which Vexen would obtain Riku’s power. He was a scientist by nature, not well suited to combat…but there was no better option. All he had to do was draw out the greatest strength the boy could muster. And then, if he succeeded in mass-producing the replicas, the Organization would have greater power than ever before. Far beyond even Emblem Heartless.

Vexen deflected a strike from Soul Eater with his shield of ice. “Release your rage… Show me the strength of the darkness you harbor!”

Again and again, Riku swung his sword, and each time Vexen accumulated more of his memories and power as data.

I think the entire point of both the Replica Program and making the Emblem Heartless was to create a heart out of data. That was Even’s goal in the experiments. He was motivated by scientific advancement. Vexen fought Riku to acquire memories of him while he’s in a rage. Then he used that data and installed it into the Replica, which later grew a heart. So, his Project was successful.

It is my duty to expose what this darkness really is. I shall conduct the following experiments:

-Extract the darkness from a person's heart.

-Cultivate darkness in a pure heart.

-Both suppress and amplify the darkness within.

I think Kairi was an example of “cultivating darkness in a pure heart.” Ventus was an example of “extracting the darkness from a person’s heart.” Lea and Isa were probably involved in an experiment meant to “amplify the darkness within” one of them.

“No. It is because you are trying to hold it in. Let the dark impulses waken in the pit of your heart. Release them, here and now! Sharpen your fear into rage!” Xehanort shouted to Ventus.

I don’t know how to. There’s nothing like that in me. I can’t change my fear into rage. I’m just scared.

“You must! If you do not let the storm within you run its course, it will wipe you from the face of the world, make no mistake! Do it. Embrace the darkness. Produce for your Master the χ-Blade!”

How does the darkness within get amplified? By creating rage. How to create rage? When Ventus was experimented on, Master Xehanort was trying sharpen his fear into rage.

“Fear’s an emotion. It doesn’t exist for us.”

“But…I am feeling it. I’m scared right now.” Axel and Xion ceasing to exist—the thought was even more frightening to him than his own termination. Roxas didn’t want to dwell on it at all.

Axel looked away into the distance. “Something in you probably does remember what it’s like to be scared. So you think you’re feeling it now.”

Day 150 is called “Fear”. This was an important idea to Axel’s backstory. On this day, Axel and Roxas talk about what they couldn’t bear to lose. Axel says fear isn’t something Nobodies can feel.

“Man, don’t scare us like that,” Axel complained.

“I’ll try not to.”

“You stay in bed, okay? Take it easy.”

“I will,” she said meekly and smiled at them. “Thanks, guys.”

But on Day 193, Axel was scared when Xion collapsed. He was very pissed off at Saïx, too, for knowingly putting him in a situation that would make him feel fear. To me, it seemed like he remembered being scared of losing Isa. Something very traumatic happened.

Saïx: Did it break again? That didn’t take long.

Axel: Keep your mouth shut.

Saïx: You have changed... Something at Castle Oblivion changed you. Does the past mean nothing to you now?

Saïx was mad, too. He was remembering something traumatic from the past as well. And the “broken” comment set Axel off.

“You see how powerless you are to save them? Savor that rage and despair. Let it empower you!”

What good was the power of light if it couldn’t save his two friends? It was meaningless. He would be able to save them if he was strong enough.

If so…If that’s how it is…

“Yes, boy, that’s it! More! Let your whole heart blacken with anger!”

Terra didn’t care that the power thrumming through him belonged to the darkness. As long as it made him strong.

Basically, once the apprentices learned how the Heartless behaved and what motivated them, I think they decided to perform an experiment to recreate the conditions that spawned the original Heartless. This was so that they could get the necessary data to create a heart. So, they decided to amplify the darkness in Lea’s heart to turn him into a Heartless. They knew his biggest fear, which was losing Isa. They were probably going to torture and kill Isa right in front of Lea. Lea’s fear would sharpen into rage and they could use the data from those memories to create a heart. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about! I’m protecting those islands!” Riku rushed into range, but this time the Claymore, Saïx’s sword, was there to block Soul Eater.

“How do you expect to protect anything when you’ve cloaked yourself in darkness? You sold your soul for power. Was it worth it?”

Isa just so happens to have a berserk mode, which is pure RAGE. I think Isa was the one who went berserk during this experiment. He was not the intended target.

“Wait—you had your fun on the first floor.” Larxene flashed her most bewitching smile. “This time, it’s my turn.”

“…Don’t break him,” were the words that slipped unconsciously out of Axel’s mouth.

“Ohhh, do I detect a soft spot?”

“You don’t trust me?” Larxene slumped in mock disappointment. “I know when to let up. I’m not stupid enough to break my toys.”

Isa was just a toy. Someone (probably Braig) had fun torturing him and used his screams of pain and anguish to try and get Lea to succumb to darkness. He went berserk and became possessed by darkness, but he was motivated by love, so his heart did not collapse and he didn’t become a Heartless, making him the special and unique Subject X and a vessel.

“No, I won’t do it. He told me the only way the χ-Blade can be forged is if you and me fight. Well, guess what? I’m not fighting,” Ven said, his back still turned.

“You used to be too broken to talk back,” Vanitas retorted.

But Isa was probably “broken” after that ordeal, like Ventus was originally.

Day 150: Dealing with Xion

Author: Saïx

As expected, the Duplicate is starting to show its limits. The Program showed promise, but a puppet is just a puppet: something to be toyed with until it breaks. I am utterly at a loss as to what Roxas and Axel see in that thing. How best to dispose of it merits my consideration going forward.

It’s no wonder why Saïx would hate a Replica, if he knew they were created from memories of conflict and rage. It’d bring back memories for sure, no matter who the Replica was based on. And I think he probably did know how Replicas were made. Even Axel was a lot more understanding of Saïx’s treatment of Xion once he realized she was a Replica. He even felt uncomfortable around her at first, too.

[omuse]

life and death.

DATE:  15.03.2020 MUSE:  DAEVA  OF  FAMINE WITH:  FROLLO  , SAMAEL  ( @terrvrs )  ,  JULIAN  ( @lcstbov​ )  ,  LILITH  ( @whitesctin​ )

                               (  tw:  blasphemy  ,  blood  ,  injury  ,  poison  ,  torture  )

     it's hard to leave home, after over a week spent being by his husband's side, making sure he is alright, tending to his wounds — the horseman has trouble stepping foot outside the house, away from him, even if he is leaving samael in their children's care. the memory of not knowing where samael was, of him stepping away without letting daeva know — it's still fresh in his mind. the worry, the panic that washed over him. being the creatures they are, he hardly ever feels fear, but since the events that happened in the church, daeva feels on the edge, ready to do everything so that his family is in one piece, safe, healthy and happy.

     and that consists of having samael within sight, holding him close, changing his bandages, putting on the healing ointment they had it made to help him heal. getting his lover out of his sight is something that squeezes the heart in his chest, but after he had made samael promise, daeva believes him, believes that he wouldn't leave- that he would keep his word. and just in case something urgent happens, daeva makes sure lilith and julian is there too while he is away. his family is together, safe, away from what daeva plans to do that day.

    it's been brimming under his skin, the anger, the bitter feeling harbored for the priest. there had been more urgent matters at hand, making sure samael was healing well, that his family was in one piece, gathered in one place. and now that the storms have settled, daeva knows it's time. time to get revenge, time to show no one messes with his family, that no attempt to do so will go unavenged. at first, they are reluctant to let him go alone, but once he sets his mind to something, it's hard to change it, and he promises them he will be back soon, and this is something he must do.

     he dons the sword given to him by chernabog, drenched in poison, one that's created to kill slowly, painfully. no swift death would be enough, no- daeva wants frollo to suffer, wants to make him regret all he has done, regret every excruciating second as he edges closer to death. and having learned the church is his stronghold, where he is at his best- daeva has his movements tracked down instead. it doesn't take long, with talented people working under him, famine knows where to head exactly.

    it's an alleyway, a shortcut to the man's extravagant home. another proof that humility he pretends to have is a mere lie. he lives in an expensive part of the city,  filled with sin behind closed doors- but daeva doesn't care about frollo's virtues or vices anymore. he's past the point of toying with his mask, making him squirm. no, all he cares about is making sure he is punished, that everyone knows not to mess with his family. daeva wants to make an example out of the man, and counts the minutes for his arrival, leaning against the wall as he waits, hiding in the shadows.

    it doesn't take long before he hears the footsteps, of expensive shoes hitting the pavement, the man unaware of what's about to come. daeva moves swiftly, pushes himself away from the wall, his eyes filled with fire as he walks towards the man. "priest — did you miss me?" his eyes shift to gold, and he doesn't even grin as he pins him against the wall, forearm digging into the man's neck. this close, illuminated by the streetlights, the wrinkles on frollo's face are clearer, of age, of fear. he stands in front of daeva as an old man, without his followers, without any power to stand up to a horseman.

    the horseman pushes the aura first, finding it hard to control it with the anger that bubbles up in his chest at the sight of him. seeing the man again, this close, it only brings back the memories of fear, of samael on the ground, choking on his breath as blood spills from his mouth. and that- that only fuels his fury, makes him push the feeling of gnawing hunger towards frollo, one that takes over the priest quickly. the man chokes on his breath, added with the arm against his throat.

    "not so smug now, are you? without your pawns, your fooled followers- no one can help you now, can they?" when frollo opens his mouth to speak, daeva pushes further, not giving him room to speak, not wanting to hear his voice. "you've made the mistake of your life, priest. and i will make sure you regret it." his eyes grow more intense, one hand going to the man's hair to pull him down, bending his knees, daeva towers over his figure now.

    "do you know what pain feels like, priest? or do you still think your god will protect you from it?" he uncurls his hand, and when the man attempts to run away, he pins him harder against the wall, tutting. "stay still — i'm not letting you go now, not until you beg." the horseman won't let him leave no matter what, but he wants to give false hope, so that he can tear it away just as quickly. his free hand goes to his belt afterwards, unsheathing the knife, enjoying the way frollo cowers in fear, tries to struggle in his grasp.

    "careful- my hand might slip, priest." he spits out, knife moving up to the man's face, trailing the line of his jaw, his cheekbone, pressing against the skin, slowly drawing blood. "what can you afford to lose? an eye?" words leave his mouth slowly, and his hand grasps the man's chin now, knife sliding down to his lips. "maybe your tongue? so that you cannot spew lies anymore?" the thought is pleasing to him, but he shakes his head. "no, no, we need to hear you beg first."

    the man is as stubborn as always, but the knife seems to have put some fear in him, and for that, daeva is glad- for the man should be afraid, for there is nothing that can save him now. "i have good news and i have bad news, which one would you like to hear first?" the knife trails down to the man's neck, pushing lightly when he tries to speak. and as if playing with his food, he refuses to give him the upper-hand, wanting to make him lose control over and over again, until poison spreads through his veins.

    "i'll start with the good one... you won't die now." the ends of his lips turn up in a grin, a vain effort, amplified with the way his eyes glint. he trails the knife lower now, one arm going up to push at frollo's neck again, meeting him eye to eye. "want to hear the bad news?" the end of the knife pushes against the fabric of his shirt, slowly beginning to sink in. daeva revels in the groan at first, the way the man holds back. famine's head is tilted to side as he watches the pain on his face, wanting to elongate it as much as he can.

    "the bad news is that- your god isn't here. you will die- slowly. painfully. and you will regret what you did with your dying breath." with that, he sinks the knife into his side, slowly, not aimed to kill, but to spread the poison in his system. it's supposed to burn, more than just the cut of the knife, the poison burns from the inside, tortures from within. the man finally screams, and daeva watches, slowly pulling back the knife from his body, letting him crumble on the ground. "have fun thinking of your sins, priest. no one will save you now."

    and with that, he steps away, listens the way the man swears, voice laced with pain, face covered in sweat. it's not the injury that will kill him, but the poison, and for a moment, daeva wants to watch. for hours, watch him squirm on the ground, step on his wound, mock him in his dying moments. but no- he decides against it, wanting frollo to be alone, scrambling for help, trying to find a cure that's almost impossible to get. "see you in hell, frollo. i'll make sure you'll get special treatment down there."

    turning his back, he leaves the alley, and begins walking home. it feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders, worry of what happened slowly easing off. even though it will never leave, daeva will rest better knowing the man is punished, crawling in pain as the horseman makes it back to their apartment. it takes him longer than it would have, but he likes the cold air against his skin, tension seeping away slowly but surely, for the first time in what feels like weeks.

    when he makes it to their condo, his hands are covered in blood, but the smile on his face is genuine as he greets julian and lilith, briefly hugs them, tells them everything is alright, that they should both rest. soon after that, daeva walks upstairs to their room, to his husband's bedside. pestilence sits up, but daeva is quick to reassure him, leaning down, pressing a kiss against his temple. "it's done, love. it's done. he won't be bothering us now. i made sure of it." one hand brushes samael's hair back, and he presses a kiss against his lips, a soft, gentle one, the opposite of the person he was in the alleyway.

     when he pulls back, he smiles again, and speaks slowly. "let me clean up, and i'll be back. you should rest. i promise i have everything taken care of."