#and again! this version COULD have been done well! it just wasn't!

[just7frogsinapeoplesuit]

THANK YOU I could easily write at least a full paragraph eviscerating the script/acting/editing choices made in nearly every single scene (and I am usually pretty lenient when it comes to bad movies) and yet the average rating I have seen for it is 8/10.

My assumption is that the rave reviews are because the "monstrous man has sexual connection with mentally ill victorian lady" concept does get painfully awkwardly adequately communicated and the direction they took that relationship is so loudly edgy that it successfully makes people who don't normally think too deeply about stuff have a few Big Thoughts about monsters, sex, and morality, which makes it automatically qualify as a Good Movie. It's unfortunately a really common phenomenon for people to equate "this made me feel a strong emotion and/or think about a new idea" with "this was amazing and well-made", which is why I never trust crowdsourced ratings for anything.

My personal monicker for media that beats you over the head with how it wants you to react while remaining devoid of actual substance is "feelings porn". Feelings porn is always very popular because it makes people who like surface-level media engagement feel like they've watched something "deep" without having to actually think deeply about what they saw. Nosferatu (2024) is definitely feelings porn.

Side note. I cannot get over people thinking this version of Orlok is scarier. I genuinely laughed out loud the first time he spoke. And mustache aside (as if I could forget it) the weird little ugly combover bangs as the only hair on his head is hilarious. Just really solid choices all around with this dude. He's definitely not Count Orlok or even a remotely traditional vampire, but he sure is A Guy It Would Be Scary To Fuck.

Saw the Nosferatu remake and it was. Bad. Like exceptionally bad. It is an hour longer than the original and yet we get less information about the characters, setting, and vampire lore. It's baffling that they achieved this. I can, however, see exactly why the script was greenlit. Studios love a cash grab like "what if we remade the original vampire movie but this time it was really a sex thing".

Points in the film's favor:

- The actors all strongly resemble the actors from the original with the exception of Count Orlok but I will get to that later and the costuming is beautiful.

- The sets and a number of whole scenes all resemble the original, as does most of the plot.

- The choice to have most of the nighttime scenes be in black and white was a nice touch.

- All of these are about how it relates to the 1922 film not because I was watching it intending to compare the two but because mimicking the aesthetics of the original aside from Count Orlock dear god is the only thing it did well.

Everything else:

- The film begins with a short scene of young Ellen gyrating on the ground and moaning while staring into the camera in a deeply uncomfortable way before abruptly cutting to the the start of the story. At least they were up-front about telling us that, yeah, we made the sex part literal.

- The acting is bad. The dialogue is bad. We know practically nothing about anyone at basically any point in the story. William Dafoe is the sole exception but he's just a side character.

- There is no sense of time, the pacing is atrocious, and there is no suspense at any point.

- But the suspense music does not stop. It's there to tell us that we are supposed to be Experiencing Suspense.

- This is because, in addition to bad pacing, they removed basically all the exposition and several scenes that help establish suspense and mystery like the ghouls and the vampire book.

- They did, however, add several scenes that are clearly just an excuse to see a boob. We only see a single boob at a time until the final scene, though, which I imagine they thought made it tasteful.

- One of those scenes is villagers bringing a naked girl on a horse to a grave and then stabbing the person buried in the grave, who appears to have been alive. Is there more than one vampire, then? If so, why are they only afraid of the castle? Why is she being presented like a sacrifice when they were just going to kill the guy?

- They waffle between trying to be period accurate and throwing in dialogue that does not fit the setting (like "why is Knock tied to a chair in the basement we are a modern facility" my guy it is 1838 we just talked about the humors tied to a chair is gentle)

- A significant part of the film is spent establishing that Ellen is under the sway of the vampire and has been since childhood, and that it's definitely a sex thing she kind of wants. This is not done well and she is, in fact, unconscious for the majority of the film, but it's at least clear that's what they were going for.

- Thomas meets Count Orlok and immediately becomes a terrified mess for the rest of the film. There is no buildup or even a clear reason, it just happens the second he arrives.

- When he wakes up with a feral-looking bite mark on his chest he immediately assumes it came from the count, the guy he is doing business with, and not one of the count's four enormous dogs. He has not read a book about vampires in this version. There is no basis for this.

- He finds out Orlok sleeps in a crypt because he's frantically trying to escape the castle but then spontaneously breaks a lock to go down into the basement and takes the lid off a coffin. Again, Thomas knows jack shit about vampires. There is no reason for him to do this.

- Orlok's goal from the beginning is to dissolve Ellen's marriage and live with her, I think? He makes Thomas sign some paperwork in a magic vampire language legally selling her to him? The question marks being because this is barely touched upon.

- Okay, so. Count Orlok. Where to start. Christ.

- Count Orlok is one of the most iconic horror characters of all time. It would be very easy to alter his design so it remains recognizable while also no longer antisemitic. You would expect that, in a film clearly trying to match the aesthetics of the original as closely as possible, they would do this.

- They did not do this.

- He has a mustache.

- He has a thick bushy mustache.

- He is Buff and Large and not very pale and also not trying to hide the fact that he is visibly rotting.

- He speaks like someone doing a bad impression of Nandor.

- He is also dressed like Nandor.

- The mustache is brown.

- We do not, at any point, clearly see his fangs.

- We do, however, see his dick. Because he sleeps naked.

- He gyrates sexually while sucking blood out of people's chests.

- Did I mention they gave him a mustache.

- We see relatively little of him anyway. But most of the shots show his mustache more than the rest of his face. Or maybe I was just too distracted by it to see anything else. He has a mustache.

- William Dafoe's character (who is not in the original) is introduced when Ellen starts having magic seizures and then the plague happens and we spend a bunch of time playing Supernatural Medical Mystery Solvers. It's the only part of the film that feels somewhat cohesive and Dafoe is great which, ironically, creates a lot of dissonance between the scenes he's in and the rest of the film.

- The "plague" is not just vampire bites, though. It's also people randomly oozing and vomiting and, in one case, ripping off their own bodice so we see a boob. Why and how? Who knows. But there are lots of rats.

- Two of the four(?)(iirc) people we actually see Orlok kill are small children which is definitely A Choice given how explicit they've made it that Blood Sucking Is Sex. He's killing them to upset Ellen, by the way, who has received an ultimatum that she has three days to willingly fuck him or he'll kill the whole town.

- The climax (ha) of the film is, of course, the butt naked Count drinking Ellen's blood from her chest while they have sex. There is a lot of moaning involved. The long, slow pan-out shot from above his gross dissolving corpse body splayed over her recently-deceased but exceptionally perky breasts is at least reasonably artistic.

- Overall, significantly, devastatingly worse than if they'd just taken the general idea of the original and done something completely new with it. The 1922 film isn't great by modern standards but it has a lot of charm and historical value and the plot actually holds itself together. If you have never watched either and are interested, definitely make it the original.

- He has a mustache.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Happy Public Domain Day 2025 to all who celebrate

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/17/dastar-dly-deeds/#roast-in-piss-sonny-bono

In 1976, Congress set fire to the country's libraries; in 1998, they did it again. Today, in 2024, the flames have died down, and out of the ashes a new public domain is growing. Happy Public Domain Day 2025 to all who celebrate!

For most of US history, copyright was something you had to ask for. To copyright a work, you'd send a copy to the Library of Congress and they'd issue you a copyright. Not only did that let you display a copyright mark on your work – so people would know they weren't allowed to copy it without your permission – but if anyone wanted to figure out who to ask in order to get permission to copy or adapt a work, they could just go look up the paperwork at the LoC.

In 1976, Congress amended the Copyright Act to eliminate the "formality" of copyright registration. Now, all creative works of human authorship were copyrighted "at the moment of fixation" – the instant you drew, typed, wrote, filmed, or recorded them. From a toddler's nursery-school finger-painting to a graffiti mural on a subway car, every creative act suddenly became an article of property.

But whose property? That was on you to figure out, before you could copy, publish, perform, or preserve the work, because without registration, permissions had to start with a scavenger hunt for the person who could grant it. Congress simultaneously enacted a massive expansion of property rights, while abolishing the title registry that spelled out who owned what. As though this wasn't enough, Congress reached back in time and plopped an extra 20 years' onto the copyrights of existing works, even ones whose authors were unknown and unlocatable.

For the next 20 years, creative workers, archivists, educators and fans struggled in the face of this regime of unknowable property rights. After decades of well-documented problems, Congress acted again: they made it worse.

In 1998, Congress passed the Sonny Bono Copyright Act, AKA the Mickey Mouse Preservation Act, AKA the Copyright Term Extension Act. The 1998 Act tacked another 20 years onto copyright terms, but not just for works that were still in copyright. At the insistence of Disney, Congress actually yanked works out of the public domain – works that had been anthologized, adapted and re-issued – and put them back into copyright for two more decades. Copyright stretched to the century-plus "life plus 70 years" term. Nothing entered the public domain for the next 20 years.

So many of my comrades in the fight for the public domain were certain that this would happen again in 2018. In 2010, e-book inventor and Project Gutenberg founder Michael S Hart and I got into a friendly email argument because he was positive that in 2018, Congress would set fire to the public domain again. When I insisted that there was no way this could happen given the public bitterness over the 1998 Act, he told me I was being naive, but said he hoped that I was right.

Michael didn't live to see it, but in 2019, the public domain opened again. It was an incredible day:

https://archive.org/details/ClosingKeynoteForGrandReopeningOfThePublicDomainCoryDoctorowAtInternetArchive

No one has done a better job of chronicling the fortunes of our fragile, beautiful, bounteous public domain than Jennifer Jenkins and James Boyle of Duke University's Center for the Study of the Public Domain. Every year from 2010-2019, Boyle and Jenkins chronicled the works that weren't entering the public domain because of the 1998 Act, making sure we knew what had been stolen from our cultural commons. In so many cases, these works disappeared before their copyrights expired, for example, the majority of silent films are lost forever.

Then, in 2019, Jenkins and Boyle got to start cataloging the works that were entering the public domain, most of them from 1923 (copyright is complicated, so not everything that entered the public domain in 2019 was from that year):

https://web.law.duke.edu/cspd/publicdomainday/2019/

Every year since, they've celebrated a new bumper crop. Last year, we got Mickey Mouse!

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/15/mouse-liberation-front/#free-mickey

In addition to numerous other works – by Woolf, Hemingway, Doyle, Christie, Proust, Hesse, Milne, DuBois, Frost, Chaplin, Escher, and more:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/20/em-oh-you-ess-ee/#sexytimes

Now, 2024 was a fantastic year for the public domain, but – as you'll see in the 2025 edition of the Public Domain Day post – 2025 is even better:

https://web.law.duke.edu/cspd/publicdomainday/2025/

So what's entering the public domain this year? Well, for one thing, there's more of the stuff from last year, which makes sense: if Hemingway's first books entered the PD last year, then this year, we'll the books he wrote next (and this will continue every year until we catch up with Hemingway's tragic death).

There are some big hits from our returning champions, like Woolf's To the Lighthouse and A Farewell to Arms from Hemingway. Jenkins and Boyle call particular attention to one book: Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury, its title taken from a public domain work by Shakespeare. As they write, Faulkner spoke eloquently about the nature of posterity and culture:

[Humanity] is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance…The poet’s voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail.

The main attraction on last year's Public Domain Day was the entry of Steamboat Willie – the first Mickey Mouse cartoon – into the public domain. This year, we're getting a dozen new Mickey cartoons, including the first Mickey talkie:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mickey_Mouse_(film_series)#1929

Those 12 shorts represent a kind of creative explosion for the Disney Studios. Those early Mickey cartoons were, each and every one, a hybrid of new copyrighted works and the public domain. The backbone of each Mickey short was a beloved, public domain song, with Mickey's motion synched to the beat (animators came to call this "mickey mousing"). In 1929, there was a huge crop of public domain music that anyone could use this way:

Blue Danube, Pop Goes the Weasel, Yankee Doodle, Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush, Ach Du Lieber Augustin, Listen to the Mocking Bird, A-Hunting We Will Go, Dixie, The Girl I Left Behind Me, a tune known as the snake charmer song, Coming Thru the Rye, Mary Had a Little Lamb, Auld Lang Syne, Aloha ‘Oe, Turkey in the Straw, My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean, Habanera and Toreador Song from Carmen, Lizst’s Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2, and Goodnight, Ladies.

These were recent compositions, songs that were written and popularized in the lifetimes of the parents and grandparents who took their kids to the movies to see Mickey shorts like "The Barn Dance," "The Opry House" and "The Jazz Fool." The ability to plunder this music at will was key to the success of Mickey Mouse and Disney. Think of all the Mickeys and Disneys we've lost by locking up the public domain for the past half-century!

This year, we're getting some outstanding new old music for our public domain. The complexities of copyright terms mean that compositions from 1929 are entering the public domain, but we're only getting recordings from 1924. 1924's outstanding recordings include:

George Gershwin performing Rhapsody in Blue, Jelly Roll Morton playing Shreveport Stomp, and an early recording from contralto and civil rights icon Marian Anderson, who is famous for her 1939 performance to an integrated audience of over 75,000 people at the Lincoln Memorial. Anderson’s 1924 recording is of the spiritual Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen.

While the compositions include Singin' in the Rain, Ain't Misbehavin', An American in Paris, Bolero, (What Did I Do to Be So) Black and Blue, Tiptoe Through the Tulips, Happy Days Are Here Again, What Is This Thing Called, Love?, Am I Blue? and many, many more.

On the art front, we're getting Salvador Dali's earliest surrealist masterpieces, like Illumined Pleasures, The Accommodations of Desire, and The Great Masturbator. Dali's contemporaries are not so lucky: after a century, the early history of the works of Magritte are so muddy that it's impossible to say whether they are in or out of copyright.

But there's plenty of art with clearer provenance that we can welcome into the public domain this year, most notably, Popeye and Tintin. As the first Popeye and Tintin comics go PD, so too do those characters.

The idea that a fictional character can have a copyright separate from the stories they appear in is relatively new, and it's weird and very stupid. Courts have found that the Batmobile is a copyrightable character (Batman won't enter the public domain until 2035).

Copyright for characters is such a muddy, gross, weird idea. The clearest example of how stupid this gets comes from Sherlock Holmes, whose canon spans many years. The Doyle estate – a rent-seeking copyright troll – claimed that Holmes wouldn't enter the public domain until every Holmes story was in the public domain (that's this year, incidentally!).

This didn't fly, so their next gambit was to claim copyright over those aspects of Holmes's character that were developed later in the stories. For example, they claimed that Holmes didn't show compassion until the later stories, and, on that basis, sued the creators of the Enola Holmes TV show for depicting a gender-swapped Sherlock who wasn't a total dick:

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2020/dec/22/lawsuit-copyright-warmer-sherlock-holmes-dismissed-enola-holmes

As the Enola lawyers pointed out in their briefs, this was tantamount to a copyright over emotions: "Copyright law does not allow the ownership of generic concepts like warmth, kindness, empathy, or respect, even as expressed by a public domain character – which, of course, belongs to the public, not plaintiff."

When Mickey entered the public domain last year, Jenkins did an excellent deep dive into which aspects of Mickey's character and design emerged when:

https://web.law.duke.edu/cspd/mickey/

Jenkins uses this year's entry of Tintin and Popeye into the public domain to further explore the subject of proprietary characters.

Even though copyright extends to characters, it only covers the "copyrightable" parts of those characters. As the Enola lawyers wrote, the generic character traits (their age, emotional vibe, etc) are not protected. Neither is anything "trivial" or "minuscule" – for example, if a cartoonist makes a minor alteration to the way a character's pupils or eyes are drawn, that's a minor detail, not a copyrightable element.

The biggest impediment to using public domain characters isn't copyright, it's trademark. Trademark is very different from copyright: foundationally, trademark is the right to protect your customers from being deceived by your competitors. Coke can use trademark to stop Pepsi from selling its sugary drinks in Coke cans – not because it owns the word "Coke" or the Coke logo, but because it has been deputized to protect Coke drinkers from being tricked into buying not-Coke, thinking that they're getting the true Black Waters of American Imperialism.

Companies claim trademarks over cartoon characters all the time, and license those trademarks on food, clothing, toys, and more (remember Popeye candy cigarettes?).

Indeed, Hearst Holdings claims a trademark over Popeye in many traditional categories, like cartoons, amusement parks, ads and clothes. They're also in the midst of applying for a Popeye NFT trademark (lol).

Does that mean you can't use Popeye in any of those ways? Nope! All you need to do is prominently mention that your use of Popeye is unofficial, not associated with Hearst, and dispel any chance of confusion. A unanimous Supreme Court decision (in Dastar) affirm your right to do so. You can also use Popeye in the title of your unauthorized Popeye comic, thanks to a case called Rogers v Grimaldi.

This all applies to Tintin, too – a big deal, given that Tintin is managed by a notorious copyright bully who delights in cruelly terrorizing fan artists. Tintin is joined in the public domain by Buck Rogers, another old-timey character whose owners are scumbag rent-seekers.

Congress buried the public domain alive in 1976, and dumped a load of gravel over its grave in 1998, but miraculously, we've managed to exhume the PD, and it has been revived and is showing signs of rude health.

2024 saw the blockbuster film adaptation of Wicked, based on the public domain Oz books. It also saw the publication of James, a celebrated retelling of Twain's Huck Finn from the perspective of Huck's enslaved sidekick.

This is completely normal. It's how art was made since time immemorial. The 40 year experiment in life without a public domain is at an end, and not a minute too soon.

You can piece together a complete-as-possible list of 2025's public domain (including the Marx Brothers' Cocoanuts, Disney's Skeleton Dance, and Del Ruth's Gold Diggers of Broadway) here:

https://onlinebooks.library.upenn.edu/cce/

[selenitesdawn]

Temperance (Wanda's Version)

pairing: wanda maximoff x female!reader plot: Wanda didn't choose to fall for the girl her boyfriend used to bully in high school. But she did. And if there is one thing Wanda Maximoff is known for, it is always getting what she wants. No matter how. warnings: 18+ !! minors dni. wanda is with vision, cheating, stalking and heavy (mind)manipulation, possessive wanda, power-imbalance, dom!wanda, sub!reader, sexual content word count: 2700 a/n: this can be read as a one shot. however, here is the story from the reader's perspective: Temperance Masterlist

At first, it started innocent. As most things do. Sometimes a small puff of air is enough to trigger a whole tornado. And that was exactly the case for Wanda. It wasn't planned that things would turn out the way they did in the end. But let’s start at the very beginning.

Wanda had been in a more or less happy relationship with Vision for about six months when she found out about you. Vision's oldest friends Steve and Bucky were visiting when the conversation turned to what would change everything.

“Remember that one hot chick from highschool?,” Bucky had asked back then.

Wanda entered the living room just at the right time, serving drinks and snacks for the guests. After handing her home made lemonade to everyone, she sat herself down next to Vision, observing the conversation carefully. 

“Natasha Romanoff?,” Vision replied smugly, earning a side-eye from Wanda.

“How could I forget. I asked her out and after one date she said i’m too obsessed with my ex,” Steve remembered, before getting interrupted by Bucky.

“Which you still are-,”

Steve lightly hit Bucky’s arm who laughed in response.

“Heads up buddy, at least you didn’t embarrass yourself like y/n did,” Bucky tried cheering up his friend.

The memory made Vision laugh wholeheartedly, slapping his own leg as if Bucky had just cracked the funniest joke ever. Steve however didn’t seem amused, nipping at his glass.

“That’s still the one of the nastiest things you’ve ever done Vision. At least in high school,” Steve noted, shaking his head disapprovingly.

“What did you do?,” Wanda chimed in, her curiosity too great to stay silent.

Vision quickly collected himself, noticing the seriousness in Wanda’s tone, “Oh it was nothing, just read this strange poem she wrote about Natasha but-“

“Out loud. In class. After stealing y/n’s notebook from her backpack,” Steve added quickly.

“Vision what the fuck, why would you do that?,” Wanda questioned horrified, her face a mixture of upset and disgust.

She knew Vision wasn't perfect, but he was a good partner all things considered. However, they never really talked about his teenage years before, so hearing how her boyfriend behaved back then really bugged Wanda in a way she didn't expect. Vision on the other hand tried to play it down.

“Relax babe, it was just a joke. Besides, y/n wouldn’t have had a chance with Natasha anyway. I mean, she turned down Steve,“ he tried to justify his actions, pointing to Steve who looked almost as disappointed as Wanda did. 

“I can’t believe you would do something like that,“ Wanda mumbled frustrated.

“Chill Wanda, that was in high school,” Bucky rattled in, trying to defend Vision’s actions. 

“Well, he did do something similar in college so-,“ Steve started saying before Vision firmly stopped him.

“Shut up Steve.” 

That night Wanda felt like she was lying next to a stranger. Had Vision been a bully before she knew him? Did he have a side that she didn't know of? And what else had he done to you? She wanted answers, but of course she couldn't get them from Vision. But she was desperate for answers. And then it happened again. Wanda never did it on purpose. Sometimes one thing just lead to another. And that’s when she saw you in her mind's eye. How you stood crying in a corner of the schoolyard and how Vision ran after you to take pleasure in your suffering. How he cheekily laughed in your face. The pictures in her mind were vivid, like they were happening right in that moment. 

Wanda couldn’t sleep after what she saw, so she decided to get up and search for Vision’s yearbook. It didn’t take long to find you, the photo of you matching with the flashback she had. Her thumb softly brushed over the image of you, as she stared at your younger self. Then, a switch turned inside Wanda. You looked so innocent. So beautiful. How could Vision treat you like that? While browsing through other images in the yearbook, she saw you standing next to Kate Bishop in a bunch of photos. Wanda remembered Kate. They had met some time ago and back then they exchanged their Instagram accounts.

Wanda could have stopped right there. She knew what Vision did and she knew whom he did it to. But for some reason she couldn’t. So instead of leaving things as they are, she went on Instagram, searching through Kate’s account. Not surprisingly, she quickly found yours. You have only gotten more beautiful since high school, Wanda thought to herself as she explored each and every one of your posts, highlights and tagged images. 

At the beginning she thought that the feelings she had for you were merely compassion. Born from the fact that she felt sorry for what Vision did to you. Then, slowly but surely, the compassion started turning into admiration. The next days she caught herself searching for your other social media. And then she spent more and more time finding out anything about you that was accessible to her. Where you live, where you work, where you study. That’s when Wanda had to admit to herself, that something was brewing. At least partly.

It’s just an innocent crush.

Wanda thought. But over time, the quiet admiration grew roots, spreading relentlessly, taking up more of her thoughts than she was willing to admit. Looking at pictures of you wasn’t enough anymore. She needed to see you. The first time she went to the bakery you were working at, she couldn’t find you. The second time, she only caught a glimpse of you working in the back. The third time, you seemed to have a day off again. Wanda almost stopped at this point, feeling weird about her own behavior. But then, a few days later, Kate posted a selfie with you in her Instagram story. Seeing your face once again reignited a fire inside her that she was almost able to extinguish. But how could she stop obsessing over you when you looked so pretty? 

The fourth time Wanda went to your work place, she finally saw you standing behind the counter as she peeked through the window. You were smiling tiredly as you served a customer, your eyes revealing that you hadn’t slept a lot lately. Wanda thought you looked as precious as ever. Like you belonged in a museum, protected from the ugliness of the world. But then, she froze. What was she even supposed to say to you? There is only a single chance for a first impression. And Wanda wanted it to be perfect. You couldn’t find out that it’s a set up. So, she needed to be smart about it.

What if I just bring her to me? 

As the night approached Wanda checked your Instagram again and saw that you posted a story. A donation link for animals in war zones. Wanda’s heart skipped a beat. She remembered how her younger self would be so compassionate about the street dogs in Sokovia and the helplessness she felt from watching them starve on the streets. Now she technically had enough resources to do something good for them. And that’s how Wanda approached Vision, suggesting a trip to Sokovia for a good cause. Vision wasn’t exactly obsessed with the idea but after his dad suggested renting a mansion, and Wanda suggested taking Steve and Bucky on the trip, he was sold. A few days passed until Wanda made her next move, not wanting her plans to be too obvious.

During dinner, Wanda brought up the question she’s been holding back ever since the trip was decided. “Wouldn’t it be nice to invite Kate and her best friend? This one girl you talked about? What was her name again….? y/n?”

Vision who was busy pushing around the peas on his plate, looked up with a grin. For a moment there was utter silence, until Vision started laughing. Wanda however, wasn’t in the mood.

“I’m serious Vision.”

Vision’s laughter stopped, his eyebrows now furrowed. “You’re joking. You don’t even know them.”

Wanda tried to stay calm, her next words precisely calculated. “That’s not true, I met Kate at your birthday party in May. She even told me about this-,” Wanda tilted her head, as if she had to think about it “,-golden retriever she fostered. And she was nice. Besides, I can’t deal with this much testosterone on my own.”

Vision rubbed his eyes, considering Wanda’s suggestion carefully.

“Okay. Kate it is. Fine. But why the fuck would I invite y/n?,” he asked annoyed. But Wanda had expected something like this.

“Well, you have to make up for something, don’t you think?,” she replied confidently.

Vision’s eyes widened, then he laughed again, “There's nothing to make up for Wanda. Besides, why would working without getting any money from it be something desirable.”

Wanda’s demeanor changed quickly, Vision’s reaction seemingly triggering something within her. “I know it’s hard to grasp for your tiny little brain but some people actually enjoy doing something good and meanwhile living in a fucking mansion for three months.”

Then there was silence. The tension in the air was suffocating, as the two of them just stared each other down, both not willing to step back.

“I would rather choke than ask her to join. And how do you even know that Kate and y/n are friends?,” Vision spat out. But Wanda knew what she wanted. And she wasn’t playing around.

“I’m serious Vision. Invite her,” Wanda commanded darkly.

“You can’t just tell me what to do Wanda,” Vision retorted, his tone provocative. 

“Can’t I?,” Wanda hinted with a slight smirk, her head tilting to the side. For a moment time seemed frozen, Vision’s gaze becoming emptier as Wanda’s gaze burned into his soul. Then, Vision seemed to snap back into reality.

“Fine. I’ll invite Kate and tell her that she can bring y/n,” he finally announced, before returning his attention to the peas on his plate.

“Good.”

Soon enough, the first day of the trip finally arrived and the first official meeting  between Wanda and you took place at the airport. To her pleasant surprise, Wanda quickly realized that she had a certain effect on you. She was able to trigger something deep within you, without even actively trying. She only had to look at you a little longer than necessary, which wasn’t intentional but the simple result of weeks of anticipation from Wanda’s side. That was enough to fill a hole inside you that you weren’t even aware of. But Wanda was aware of it. She saw it in your eyes. And she felt it in the back of her mind.

It's not that she thought you were weak or naive. She just immediately understood that you had a weak spot for her. And that set something inside Wanda in motion. Suddenly her hidden desires didn’t seem far from reachable anymore. 

That same night she had sex with Vision in the room next to you, banging against the wall although there was no need to do so. Faking rough, loud moans although she wasn’t feeling satisfied. But you were supposed to hear it. And while you laid in bed, covering your ears so you wouldn’t freak out, your pretty little thoughts were so loud that it was enough to get her off.

At first she felt a sense of satisfaction from making you nervous. How you sheepishly tried to hide the blush spreading across your face whenever she smiled at you. It didn’t take long until she caught herself acting a certain way in front of you. Sometimes that meant swaying her hips a little more when you were walking behind her. Sometimes she would play with her rings when you were staring at her hands again. Then, one day, she innocently put her hand on your leg under the kitchen table. Just for a quick moment really. But it was long enough for you to slightly squirm under her touch. You thought Wanda couldn’t have possibly noticed. But of course she did. Suddenly it wasn't enough anymore to simply have you wrapped around her finger. She wanted to have you. To own you.

It was all about seduction at this point. Wanda gave you too little to feel hopeful but just enough so you would keep yearning for her. Her hands always somehow found their way to your body but disappeared just as quickly, leaving you confused and unsatisfied. After studying you all this time, she understood how to push your buttons. How to make you addicted to the feeling Wanda gave you. 

She wasn’t certain about how long she would be able to keep this play up. But the decision was made for her the day you drove to the shelter together. Wanda just wanted to trigger you a little. She knew how nervous you felt around her, so sitting in a fairly small space together without a way out was the perfect opportunity to fog up your pretty little brain a bit more. 

“Babe, I think I want to drive the Lambo today and give y/n a ride. Please?,” Wanda asked innocently, looking up at Vision with a smile, her arm wrapped around his bicep.

“Keep on dreaming, no one’s going to sit their ass down on the passenger seat, apart from me and you, Wanda,” Vision laughed, his tone patronizing.

In a heartbeat, Wanda’s demeanor shifted, her head tilting sideways as her eyes turned to a darker shade, “No Vision. Try again.”

Once again, time seemed to freeze. The others, including you, were just standing there with empty gazes as Wanda stared Vision down. Vision’s gaze drifted towards you, like he was searching for… help? But that is not what happened in your memory, is it?

“Um…,” Vision started saying, his mouth staying slightly agape as his eyes widened. Then, like nothing happened, his face went back to normal, “…sure.”

As you and Wanda sat in the car, Wanda bathed in the sheer enjoyment of overwhelming you. Your inability to say something, probably scared that Wanda would think you’re weird. When you finally spoke up in the middle of the car ride and wanted to learn more about Wanda, the redhead was almost unable to contain her excitement. She felt proud of you for conquering your fears but at the same time she feared for her own composure. 

So, on the way back, she didn’t ask you to ride with her again. And as she stepped into the car, she saw your bottom lip trembling slightly. She saw your sad face, your teary eyes. And she saw your exhaustion. That’s when Wanda realized that you couldn’t deal with this situation much longer. Back at your residence, when Kate had to carry you out the car as you were unable to walk to bed, Wanda made a decision. It was time to quit the act and get what’s hers. 

The next morning, she wasted no time. Wanda told the others that you’d deserve a day off and that she would make sure that you’re resting well. It didn’t take long after you woke up until her body was pushed against yours, your arousal dripping from your core as Wanda’s hand made its way to your most sensitive spot. After a short interruption from Vision who called out for Wanda to say goodbye, every boundary that had separated you and Wanda began to vanish. All the anticipation from the last weeks melted as she was finally able to get her hands on you without restrictions, owning every inch of you. After all the patience she had, she earned this moment. But the best part was finally hearing the words she had so desperately waited for. 

 “I belong to you, Wanda.” 

As the words left your mouth, electricity raced through Wanda’s entire body. The one thing she was craving, mostly unconsciously, was finally hers. You were hers.

Wanda didn’t plan things to go that way. At least, for the most part. It wasn’t her fault though, was it? What else could she do? She needed you. Even more than you needed her. And if there is one thing that is certain about Wanda; it’s that she always gets what she wants. One way, or another. 

[selineram3421]

Well I just read you newest story about y/n being Husker's younger sibling. Especially how much focus there was on Al just wanting to piss him off.

So if I might suggest: Alastor with a y/n who's Charlie's sibling/Lucifer's child. Seriously we saw him already losing it when all claimed to see a daughter figure in Charlie...Al flirting, etc. with a different child might actually kill him.

Anyway I love your work, keep it up ^-^

- 🖤

*cackles like an insane person*

Royally Pissed

Prologue

Alastor X Morningstar Reader

Warnings ⚠

⚠ reader is blonde for obvious reasons, cussing, mention of depression, angry short King ⚠

Lucifer treasured his children.

Of course he messed up at times, not every parent is perfect. Though he does regret not seeing his children all that often.

Charlie was doing something. Somewhere.

Shit, that sounds bad.

And you would come by and check up on him every so often.

While Charlie looked like him, she had her mother's height. You looked more like Litlith..but had his shortness.

Of course you were adorable!

His littlest one, born a few seconds after Charlie. Twins that came out like opposites in looks but similar in some ways.

He gifted you a rubber duck for every birthday. One that had a tutu, one that had multiple eyes, one that had a built in music box, one that had a jester hat, one that honked like a goose, one that-

Ok, it was a lot.

But you loved his duckies! You even had bookshelves just for them!

Currently you were with him in the castle. Or more like you being in the other room while he was working on another duck.

Then he got a phone call from Charlie.

"Daughter. Daughter calling!", he said in surprise.

After talking about Heaven and a bit about the hotel, he got excited when she said for him to come see the hotel for himself.

"My daughter wants to see me~!", he sang before pointing at a duck on the floor. "Take that depression!"

"Dad?", he heard you call out, finding you opening the door. "Do you want lunch now?", you asked.

Lucifer cheered out your name and grabbed your hands before twirling you around. "Charlie called! She invited me to her hotel thingy!"

"Oh, that's nice.", you said. "I hope you have fun."

"You can come too!", he stopped the twirling. "We'll all get to hang out again!"

You smiled and agreed.

"Great! We've got to be there in an hour!", he says before letting you go to skip out of the room.

Staying put, you glance at the rubber duck filled room with slight worry.

"It wasn't this bad last time.."

.

You stood behind your father as you both waited for the doors to open.

It's been a while since you last saw Charlie, it being around a few months. Looking around you can see she cleaned up the building quite well. It was more broken down when it first appeared on the news when she pitched her idea.

I'm glad she's doing well. You thought before hearing the door.

"Charlie!", your dad said with a wide smile, holding his arms open.

"Hey Dad.", your sister waved before getting glomped with a tight hug. "Uh..it's uh, good to see you too Dad.", she said before having to push him off to breathe.

Then she noticed you, saying your name in excitement.

"I would have done more if I knew you were coming to visit too!", she said and brought you into the hotel by your hand.

"No, you don't have to worry. I'm sure what you have is enough.", you reassured as you followed her in.

From the corner of your eye, you saw two demons right next to the door. On your right there was someone in red and turned your head to see a tall deer demon. Looking to your left, you saw a woman with long white hair and an X over her eye.

"Hello..", you waved with a shy smile.

.

Alastor glared down at the King as soon as the short man barged into the hotel.

How could that be more powerful than me? He thought as his eye twitched.

Then Charlie pushed her father off and excitedly greeted someone outside, grabbing their hand to bring them in.

His eyes widened at the smaller version of Lilith.

"Hello..", they waved shyly at everyone in the room.

And then the little cat that the Princess had walked over to greet the two.

"Kiki!", the two blondes kneeled down to pet the one-eyed feline.

After walking around, Lucifer commented on the bar, so Alastor teleported closer before speaking up.

"Just some of the renovations we had done!", he pointed at the bar with his microphone staff. "Adds a bit of color! Don't you think?", he said before facing the King.

He teleported even closer to the Kind and introduced himself after the monarch questioned who he was, shaking the apple cane instead of the King's hand.

As soon as the deer demon let go, he wiped his hand on his coat.

"You are much shorter in real life.", he said pinching his fingers a bit, emphasizing how small the blonde man was.

"Who is this? Who is this?", Lucifer asked and turned to his daughter once seeing her walk over. "Is this the bellhop?", he asked her.

"Aha! No!", Alastor said before fixing his bow. "I am the host of the hotel! You might of heard of me from my radio broadcasts."

"Hm. Nope!", the King pretended to think before dusting off his sleeve. "Maybe it's why Charlie calls it the HAZBIN hotel! Ah ha ha!", he nudges his daughter with his elbow.

"Ha ha ha!", the deer tilts his head at every short laugh that left his mouth before looking at his claws with a knowing smile. "It was actually my idea."

"Ah haha! Well it's not very clever!", the blonde replied leaning forward a bit.

"Ah ha!", the Radio demon laughed loudly before leaning down to meet the King's gaze. "Fuck you.", he said very clearly, static only in the background.

"OK!", Charlie pushed the two away. "Ok! Anyway!", she said as the two looked away from each other. "Dad!", she turned to her father.

While the two were occupied, he saw the small Lilith looking Morningstar talking with the others, wearing a bright smile as they laughed.

He focused back on the conversation when the Princess said his name.

"We wouldn't have been able to pretty it up this much.", she said and the two blondes turned to face him.

"Charlie has a very unique vision!", he said with his usual smile as he walked over. "I am happy to fulfil her bizarre requests!", he places a hand on Charlie's shoulder.

"Thank you Alastor.", the blonde smiled, feeling happy.

He noticed the way Lucifer hated it, and calmly smiled.

"Quite an impressive young lady.", he said and tilted the Princess's head up a bit with his hand before moving his claws back to himself. "We're all very proud of her.", he says and places an arm around her shoulder, pushing her a little close.

Having enough, the King cleared his throat.

"Charlie! Dear.", he said before pushing between the two, getting them separated. "Why don't you introduce me to your OTHER friends!", he pointed towards the group with his end of his staff.

"Oh! Yes, of course!", Charlie said and began introducing Vaggie to her father.

Then someone got his attention with a tap on his arm.

Snapping his head towards the person, he saw the Lilith look alike move their hand back.

"Oh, I apologize. I called out to you but got no response.", they said with a bit of a frown. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"Upset?", he questioned, still wearing his smile.

"Yes, you furrowed your brows a bit when I tapped you.", the small blonde gestured with their finger.

How observant..

"No, I am not upset at all!", he gave a quick closed eyed smile. "And your name is..?"

"Oh, I'm-"

And then they were interrupted when the chandelier fell.

This was supposed to be a oneshot but then I remembered how detailed this would have to be.

~Seline, the person.

Part 1

Taglist@

@ducky-died-inside @scary-noodlesblog @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @lbcreations-blog @gallantys @117s-girl @spiderlegsling @alastorsgoldie @repentant-repeller @kcsketches @lofasofabread @kotaleee @im-coolrat @superzombiewho @speckle-meow-meow @jammcookie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @trashbin-nie @koioli @fatherlesschild2 @mmik3yy @just-here-reading @nealeart @hudiexiaoying @crystal-multiplefandomlover @glowinggoldfish0 @tiredgamerhere @fluffy-koalala @valenfawkes @+?

ML II for Alastor🎙 | RP ChL 👑

[bluepeachstudios]

So. Cass' Apocalyptic Series by @somerandomdudelmao just ended.

I have many emotions none of which I can properly convey through words or anything. CAS itself has been a continuing beacon of creative light that's been lovely to see progress, and has inspired me through so many things, and I could go on about it but I cannot get into it without crying so I won't, I hope the sentiment comes across.

Cass did fanart of Ghost in the Shell HERE. It was like. I dunno. The third or fourth drawing of GitS I'd gotten from someone else? And the fact that Cass of all people had done it was like, wild to me at the time. I was still kind of reeling from the fact that people even liked my work at all? But Cass said it was good and I was like "oh damn must be good then" and kept writing. She also did THIS animation of Ghost which I still cry at whenever I watch it it's fine.

THEN THE PEEPAW POLLS HAPPENED. OH LORD. I made so many friends. I met so many people through that. I've never. In my life had this many people I could just talk to at any time. I never knew what to say either so I ended up just hanging out and getting dragged wherever the wind took me. It got me into doing polls in general!

Ghost made it to the FINAL ROUND??? Still confused about that. Then Uncle Tello won and Cass did a comic and I wrote something and I cried when I read the comic and I was still kind of processing so I ended up drawing something as well.

Then the next time GitS and CAS met was at the TMNT AU competition. It happened. Like almost DIRECTLY after Uncle Tello died in CAS so I was processing again and I do that through Ghost apparently so I drew a lil comic and wrote a lil somethin.

And then they never met again! But I like to think that some version of Ghost somewhere got to see the end.

GitS Part 2 has been kinda hard for me to write. I had to take a big break from it due to health stuff, and getting back into writing it wasn't as easy as before. And even after Part 2 is over, I still have the movie to do. My interest in TMNT is never going away, even after GitS I have other projects I want to finish, and that I've wanted to work on while writing GitS, but. y'know.

I'm determined to finish it. Drawing an x on my wrist. I really want to give Ghost the ending I've been imagining. And Cass has been someone really cool to look up to while I've been working on that.

So. Yeah. If Cass can get to the good ending, maybe I can do it too.

Love you Cass. Thanks for everything!

[jarofstyles]

shy y/n accidentally calls harry daddy bc shes cockdrunk while theyre fucking and harry is so taken back that he cums on the spot 🫣

Omg omg omg omg

Patreon

----

Harry was convinced that Y/N was his soul mate well before it happened.

Perhaps for some, it could be considered intense, but he knew what he wanted in life. He knew he loved her by their 4th date, he knew he wanted to marry her by the 7th, and now they'd been committed to one another for about 6 months. It was incredible to have someone you just.... know is yours.

They were a bit opposite, Y/N and him. Harry was a lot more outgoing, a lot more experienced in the ropes of life, but especially sexually. Y/N hadn't done much of anything prior to Harry, and he had the honors of introducing her to a whole plethora of things. Lots of kinks they'd dipped their toes into and Y/N gave her feedback on.

She was shy beyond what he was used to, but he found it endearing. He didn't mind working her through her shyness and building her up so she felt comfortable enough to speak to him and tell him what she liked, what she wanted to try. So far, she had gone off of what Harry had admitting to liking- at least the tamer stuff- and he was more than happy with her progress. All he cared about was her comfort and pleasure.

She liked spanking with his hand, wasn't too fond of a a paddle, thoroughly mewled when he had slipped his thumb over her tightest hole, enjoyed that he was in charge and she was his sweet little baby. They'd gone slower but Harry had been more than honest with her about his likes and his preferences. Y/N appreciated honesty more than anything, even when it hurt because lies were her number one hate. The sweet girl didn't dislike much, but dishonesty was one of them.

When she had sniffed out that he had been hiding something, he was quick to fess up that he'd been a bit anxious that it would be too much or too odd for her given this conversation had happened only after the 3rd time they'd had sex, so he had admitted that he preferred a certain honorific- Daddy- and that he wouldn't ever make her feel bad for not wanting to call him that if she so chose. Y/N hadn't said much about it since.

Not until tonight.

Deep inside, Harry watched her puffy, pretty cunt spread open as she took his cock. it was sticky with her arousal and his spit, her ass recoiling when his thighs hit it. It was a glorious scene, one of the sexiest things Harry ever had the privilege of seeing with his own eyes. She was making a mess on his length, a mess of glistening slick and creamy smears that were settling on the base making the sight almost too much for Harry to handle.

Then there were the moans, the sweet, delightful little 'uh's' that left her Scarlet painted lips. He'd taken her out on a date to a lovely little restaurant and when they arrived home she had kissed him deep, leading to this moment right here. Her dress discarded across his bedroom floor and her face resting on his pillow as he fucked into her needy cunt. Sweet calls of his name, for more, for him not to stop, she was getting more and more vocal as the pleasure began to raise and he was doing everything he could to make it even better for her.

"There we go, my love." He purred. "Can feel it, you're about to cum f'me again." The encouragement always did it for her, his hand squeezing her plump ass as he pounded away into her. "Perfect little pussy for my perfect girl. M'so obsessed with you." He wanted to give her another, knowing she was going places she hadn't been before by her babbling and clenching at his pillow but she hadn't called for him to stop- if anything, she asked for more. Harry couldn't get enough, so he was holding off his orgasm just to see her do it for him.

"M'gonna, m'gonna cum, m'gonna- please, can I?" Watery eyes looked up at him, the perfect version of his destroyed sweet peach as mascara smeared slightly under her eye. "Can I cum, can I please? M'good, m'so good, m'a good girl, I need to." Her rambles only made him love her more, despite her knowledge.

"Go on, my sweet girl. Let go f'me." He cooed, continuing the pace as he watched her unfold in front of him. He could feel it, feel her rippling around his cock and the gush of her arousal as she let out a squeal. Relishing in the feeling of her trembling under him, when she said something that caught him off guard. One, whimpery, pathetic sentence that had him almost keeling over.

"D-Daddy, want your cum, let me have it, please...."

As soon as it hit him what she said, he couldn't stop himself. Balls pulling up and cock throbbing as he emptied hot cum into her, a low groan leaving his mouth as it stayed open. Feeling her orgasm start to wane but pussy stilll clenching, milking him of his cum, he was careful as he fell over and held himself on top of her, hips stuttering as he tried to gather his bearings.

His Y/N, his sweet, delicate Y/N had just called him Daddy while begging for his cum. There was no way his orgasm could have withstood it. She probably would be slightly embarrassed when she realized what she said, but he was in heaven. He hoped it showed an inner want to call him that, that it was in her mind when they were intimate because she could see him like that. At the end of the day, all he wanted to do was take care of his precious girl, make sure she was cared for and comfortable.

"There she is. My perfect angel." he panted. "Daddy's here, m'giving it all to you now." Lips pressed to her sticky cheek, nudging his nose lovingly against it. "M'all yours, forever."

[marysfics]

Beautiful, Always

You've been struggling with an acne outbreak, and it's left you feeling insecure. You can't help but worry that it might change the way your girlfriend sees you.

Insecurities, Fluff

The soft glow of the afternoon sun seeped through the curtains, casting warm golden hues across the living room. You sat on the couch, staring blankly at the TV, though the show playing had long since lost your attention. Instead, your mind swirled with a familiar, unwelcome thought.

It started small, just a few bumps on your cheek. At first, you convinced yourself it was nothing—a bad night’s sleep, maybe stress—but soon, it spread. Red, inflamed patches across your skin, reminiscent of the acne that had once plagued your teenage years. You’d thought you’d left this behind, that your skin had finally cleared. But here it was again, mocking you in the mirror each morning.

Today, it seemed worse. You had avoided Alexia all day, dodging her text messages with excuses about being busy or tired. When she returned home from training, you immediately retreated to the bedroom, doing everything you could to avoid facing her. It wasn't that she would judge you; Alexia had never made you feel anything less than loved. But the insecurity gnawed at you, and the thought of her seeing you like this—so vulnerable, so unlike the confident version of yourself you tried to be—was unbearable.

A soft knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts.

"Amor?" Alexia’s voice was gentle, full of concern. "Can I come in?"

You hesitated for a moment, then wiped the tears you hadn’t even realized had fallen from your cheeks. "Yeah," you mumbled, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.

The door creaked open, and Alexia stepped inside. She was still in her training gear, hair slightly tousled, with that unmistakable air of calm that she always carried. Her eyes softened the moment she saw you.

"Hey," she whispered, walking over to the edge of the bed. "Why are you hiding from me?"

You forced a smile, trying to appear nonchalant, but it faltered as Alexia’s eyes scanned your face. The insecurity you’d been trying to suppress came rushing back, and you turned your face away, feeling a lump form in your throat.

"I’m not hiding," you lied, the crack in your voice betraying you. "I’m just tired."

Alexia tilted her head, her brows knitting together as she gently sat beside you. Her hand found yours, warm and comforting. "You don’t have to do that with me," she said softly, giving your hand a squeeze. "I can see something’s bothering you."

You stayed silent, unsure of how to voice the storm of thoughts in your mind. How could you tell her that you felt ugly? That the acne made you feel less than the person you wanted to be for her? You’d always admired how confident and composed Alexia was, both on and off the pitch. She deserved someone who could match that energy, not someone who hid away because of a few blemishes.

When you didn’t respond, Alexia reached up, gently turning your face towards her so you were forced to meet her gaze. Her thumb brushed across your cheek, tender and slow, as if she were trying to tell you something without words.

"Is this what’s been bothering you?" she asked quietly, her fingers barely grazing the inflamed skin.

You flinched involuntarily, tears welling up in your eyes. "It’s stupid," you muttered, trying to pull away, but Alexia didn’t let go.

"It’s not stupid," she said firmly, but her voice remained soft. "Not if it’s hurting you."

The dam broke, and the words you’d been holding in finally spilled out. "I thought it was gone," you confessed, your voice trembling. "I thought I was done with all of this, but now it’s back and… I hate how I look, Ale. I don’t want you to see me like this."

Alexia’s face softened even more, if that was possible. She shifted closer, her arm slipping around your waist as she pulled you into a gentle embrace. "Mi amor," she murmured into your hair. "You are beautiful. Always. I don’t care about this," she said, her hand brushing over your cheek again. "This doesn’t change anything."

You wanted to believe her, but the weight of your own insecurities still lingered. "I don’t feel beautiful," you whispered, the words raw and vulnerable.

Alexia pressed a kiss to your temple, her arms tightening around you. "I know it’s hard," she said softly. "But I wish you could see yourself the way I do. You're strong, kind, and so beautiful—inside and out. Acne or no acne, that doesn’t change."

Her words wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, easing some of the tension that had been coiled in your chest. You rested your head against her shoulder, letting yourself be held.

"Thank you," you murmured after a long moment, your voice barely above a whisper.

Alexia kissed the top of your head again, her fingers stroking through your hair. "You don’t ever have to hide from me, okay?" she whispered. "I’m here, always."

For the first time in what felt like days, you allowed yourself to breathe. The insecurities weren’t gone, but with Alexia by your side, they didn’t feel as overwhelming. You didn’t have to face them alone.

And in her arms, you felt loved—truly, deeply loved.

[justwinginglife]

Can I please request the kafgang investigating a crankier than usual platoon leader reader? They assume its just a woman getting irritated because she looks like she's gaining weight but it's just her pregnancy belly showing with hoshina's baby...

Pregnancy hormones amirite? (I've never been pregnant before)

LOL I've also never been pregnant before but I love this prompt and I will do my best with it!

Soshiro loved that you were pregnant with his child. And not just because he'd done some delicious love making to get you pregnant, and not just because the idea of having tons of adorable little children running around was so precious to him, no- he loved that you were pregnant because he enjoyed all the ridiculous demands that you made.

Oh, today you wanted peanut butter on pickles? Sure, he could slather them up for you.

Oh, now you were crying because the sky was too blue today and it hurt your eyes? Alright, he could try a little rain dance to bring the clouds rolling in.

Oh, you didn't like the ending of a movie that was made decades ago and wanted him to fix it? Slightly more difficult, but he made bank as Vice Captain, he was sure he could hire a film crew and some actors and have that ready for you in a jiffy.

And then when the other officers started to pick up on your pregnancy-induced attitude, but didn't pick up on the pregnancy-induced part, he enjoyed it all the more. They figured you were just cranky because you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, or it was your time of the month, but when your belly started to show more proof of Soshiro's love, they attributed your irritation to gaining weight rather than gaining a child.

And you had no idea, because no one would dare tell a Platoon Leader they were getting fat. So instead you had to deal with random outbursts of "It's okay, Platoon Leader L/N, you're still beautiful as ever," or "I know this great workout if you're interested," or "Honestly, metabolism is overrated anyway."

It wasn't even the words that they said that bothered you as much as just the act of them talking at all, their voices sounded like nails on a chalkboard to you, it was like the pregnancy version of a hangover- you just wanted everyone to be quiet.

Soshiro caught on and he steered everyone away from you until you could tolerate noise again, but not before he'd had a good laugh. Of course, if anyone dared to mention aloud that you were gaining weight or you looked different, like you were letting yourself go, he'd shut it down in an instant- towering over them with a booming voice and a threatening glare. But it cracked him up to see how cute your little nose was when you scrunched it up, confused at their attempts to make conversation with you. And it cracked him up that you were so obviously pregnant in his eyes and yet no one else had drawn that conclusion yet. He wondered just how bulging your belly had to be for it to register.

He thought he might make a game out of it, creating a points system in his head for each officer and awarding them whenever one of them got even remotely close to guessing correctly.

Shinomiya noticed that your requests had been seemingly bizarre lately and as you were a woman that she respected very much for your skill and your intellect, she knew there had to be a better reason for the fog in your brain. Point for her.

Nakanoshima noticed you'd thrown up in a nearby vase and while the men attributed it to food poisoning, she'd pondered a little bit harder about when the last time you asked to borrow a tampon from her was. Point for her.

Minase noticed (shyly) that your boobs were looking a little more rounded and plump than they usually did, and made a comment that maybe pregnancy would aid her flat chest as well. Double points for her.

Really at this point, it seemed the women were catching on faster than the men. Soshiro was suddenly embarrassed of his own gender when he had this realization.

He thought he might just break one day, screaming "I FUCKED A BABY INTO HER BELLY YA IDIOTS!!!"

But he didn't have to do that. Because one day, you'd strolled in while everyone was training and snorted loudly, saying "Wow, I could beat the entire sorry lot of you all at once even pregnant. Laps around the perimeter people!"

Everyone's eyes widened and their jaws dropped (the women a little less so than the men).

They'd barely had time to process this new information when you'd repeated in a louder tone, "Did I stutter? LAPS AROUND THE PERIMETER!"

And then they ran off, terrified at the thought of just how much torture one pregnant lady could dole out.

And Soshiro smirked again, amused as ever.

"Ahh, that's my baby. Almost makes me want to fill you up again."

[scariusaquarius]

makin' a list.

CHRISTMAS ADVENT BONANZA 2K24 DAY 10: Wish List, Ken 'Okarun' Takakura

Ken 'Okarun' Takakura Summary: It had been a long time since Takakura had made anything akin to a wishlist. You sit down with him, however, to make one together.

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A/n: I have NEVER written for Okarun before so this will be the first time I ever write for him. I hope that you guys enjoy!

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Genre: Romance, Friendship, Humor Rated: Everyone Warning: Fluff, Ken is precious :3, nerding out

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Author: ScariusAquarius

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Ken Takakura hadn't made a wishlist since he was 9. When he had discovered that Santa Claus wasn't actually real, and it was just his parents putting the presents under his tree, Takakura had been devastated. It had made him become slightly jaded by the holiday, and so every year since then, Takakura made it a point to avoid doing anything Christmas-like.

Call him petty, but Takakura was truly betrayed.

That's how he began to become obsessed with the supernatural; researching anything about aliens and UFO's and things that go bump in the night. Coincidently, it was also how he met you.

You were just as obsessed about aliens and UFO's like he was; and when you had sat with him in the library, gushing about his alien book that he was reading; it was the start of something great, at least to him.

It wasn't easy for Ken to make friends, and you were his very first one he'd ever had. To say that Ken Takakura adored you would be an understatement.

Then, he met Momo Ayase, and everything changed. He got his penis and balls stolen, got cursed, got his penis back, then one of his balls back, and it was a whole ordeal that he tried desperately to keep you away from.

But you were always such a caring person, and though Takakura tried to protect you, you still got involved when Takakura suddenly wasn't around as much. Strangely enough, you had taken the news of his newfound power very well.

Nothing had changed despite this new development, but Takakura was thankful for that. In a way, you made him feel normal again. That was why on a Saturday afternoon, the two of you were huddled up in your room; Christmas-themed arts and crafts strewn around the room.

Glitter and marker ink stained your fingers, and Takakura was sitting at the desk, watching you as you made a popsicle-stick version of a gingerbread house. A pen was between his fingers, an empty sheet of paper in front of him; decorated with little reindeer and presents but otherwise blank besides the title you had made for him.

"You haven't made a christmas wishlist since you were 9?"

You didn't look at him, your face morphing into an expression of concentration as you carefully glued the popsicle sticks together; precise with your movements and placements.

"No. Ever since I found out Santa Claus wasn't real, I just never really had a good feeling about Christmas."

You pouted, glancing over at him and making his back tense slightly as you sighed.

"Aw, that's so sad though. You should still do one, you know? Even if Santa Claus isn't real, it'll still be a good way to figure out what you truly want for Christmas."

You did have a good point there, he supposed. Glancing back down at the paper, Ken Takakura was then stuck with a dilemma that he hadn't had to deal with for years.

What was it that he actually wanted for Christmas?

Sparing a glance at you, you had gone back to making your gingerbread house, the room filled with christmas music and the subtle sound of the two of you breathing, and Takakura could feel a blush begin to crawl up his neck as an idea struck him.

Carefully, his pen moved across the paper, and he began to write.

Kenny's Wishlist!

New Binoculars

Cryptology: A to Z

New pair of shoes

A kiss from (Y/n) (L/n)

Takakura swallowed thickly before he carefully, but quickly, but his list into the red envelope you had put onto the desk for him once he was done and sat back in his chair. You glanced up at him, raising a brow.

"Are you already done?"

"Yep."

You made a face at him, rolling your eyes and huffing.

"You better not have just left it blank."

"I didn't, I swear!"

He couldn't keep himself from blushing, clutching the wishlist close, and you shook your head at him, sighing and raising your hands in mock-surrender with a smile.

"Alright, alright, I'm just teasing you is all. Let's go put the envelope into the mailbox."

Takakura nodded, and the two of you stood up, brushing your clothes off, and you grabbed another red envelope from your bag. Takakura looked intrigued, asking as he adjusted his glasses and leaned down a bit.

"Is that your wishlist too?"

You smiled brightly, nodding to him and brushing it clean of any glitter, dust, or debris that had gotten onto it since the time of you making it until now.

"Yep. I got it done right around the beginning of December!"

Takakura hummed, asking you.

"What did you wish for?"

Your smile became soft and gentle, and you looked down at the envelope when the two of you made it to the mailbox.

(Y/n)'s Wishlist!

(first item)

(second item)

(third item)

A kiss from Ken Takakura

...

"Oh, you know...the usual Christmas list stuff."

Takakura didn't exactly know what that meant, but he didn't care. As long as you were happy and kept smiling like that, Takakura could live blissfully ignorant for the rest of his life. Placing his envelope into the mailbox alongside yours, he became shy, adjusting his glasses and voice shaky.

"Hey, would you...maybe...um, want to...get some hot chocolate and watch the new Cryptid show that came out? They're airing the first episode in a little bit."

Your eyes sparkled with excitement, and you nodded, grabbing his hand and making the man damn-near combust as you dragged him inside the house again.

"Yes! Yes! I'm so excited for it, I hear the pilot is gonna be on vampires and the Chupacabra!"

Takakura gasped, momentarily forgetting that your hands were still conjoined by the time you two made it into the kitchen where the hot chocolate Christmas kits were waiting.

"No way, really?! I thought it was supposed to be on werewolves?"

"Nah, werewolves are lame!"

"Hey, that's not true!"

END DAY 10

i didn't know how to end this so forgive me ;askdjf;alsdjf

[brucewaynehater101]

I’d love to see more of the Emotional Marks AU. I want to see the reveal and the Bats having the realization that just because they’re doing better /now/, it doesn’t fix the damage they did before. And that they can’t force things to heal. Healing takes time.

Post being mentioned is here

What I'm curious about is if it's a human only thing or if others (like Kyrptonians, Martians, Atlanteans, etc.) also get marks.

Anyways, here's some more stuff I thought of. As always, take as little or as much as you'd like of it ^^

Tim never takes off the object hiding his marks, even for himself. It's part habit and part desperation to never see how much his loved ones have actually hurt him.

He's unique in that he isn't sure where most of his marks come from. People usually see the marks within 24 hours of their appearance. Tim has gone years between seeing his own marked skin.

As I've stated before, the object works like glamor. Therefore, those with enough magic power would be able to see past it. This is part of why Tim wanted pants for the Robin uniform (any magicians working with Robin would see the moment they saw any of Tim's bare skin). Tim is very lucky the marks on his face only appeared a bit before he became Red Robin (and part of his reason for the cowl).

Marks typically stay away from the face. They only appear there if symbolically significant or if the marks are running out of space elsewhere on the body. Bart and Kon dying really did a number on Tim even though it wasn't their fault.

YJ and Dick have helped soothe some of the marks left behind by the Drakes (and Bruce too if you want good dad Bruce). Quite a bit have even fully disappeared due to them.

Tim still collected them like Halloween candy, though.

Major marks and their placement [though feel free to offer different ideas]:

Bruce calling Tim "Jason" - x on the back of neck

16th birthday - Major gash on right temple hidden by hair

Janet dying - splintering cracks along hand (bigger version of the one Janet fakes)

Jack coma then death - line in left calf then up to mid back of thigh

Bart dying - right side from under armpit to end of ribs gash

Kon dying - giant oval over sternum

Jason's TT attack - left foot/ankle cracks

Damian's attacks - stomach area

Losing Robin - largest slash diagonal across back (left shoulder to right hip)

There's more marks, but the ones on his face are caused by people not believing in him [this is not a "they should have" argument. It would have hurt regardless of what they should have done]

Hmm... So, the reveal? I'm thinking a magician. This would be after Tim switches back to just a mask and no cowl. His face marks would be on display for magicians but no one else. He, wrongly, assumed he'd be fine.

He's playing nice with the Bats at this point, even if he doesn't fully trust them. He loves them and wants to keep the peace. He'd never voluntarily show them his marks or tell them about it.

The Bats are being nicer under the idea that their assumptions about markless were incorrect. It weirds Tim out and usually has him ghosting them for a few days if they try to initiate feeling conversations with him. He kind of wishes they would just go back to normal.

It's a few months of this behavior before some magician makes a remark about Tim's facial marks. Something along the lines of, "You okay, Red? You're aware of how dangerous it is for marks to progress as far as the face, right?"

Cause what happens when there's no more room for marks? Drastic decrease in physical health. Could lead to death.

The Bats overhear and promptly freak the fuck out again.

Tim, who has been dealing with their bullshit for the last few months and doesn't want to deal with the confrontation, disappears. He's waiting for them to process their shit before returning [he loves them but does not want to be caught in that fucking whirlwind. Bats notoriously do not handle emotions well]

[felassan]

Snippets. 🐺💜 DA:TV spoilers under cut.

When the Community Council played the game, in the working version they played, it sounds like when the 'no dying' mode was turned on, when the player's health gets low the screen turns red (but you don't then die, of course) [source]

Caitie of Ghildirthalen shared that everyone that she talked to from the Community Council really liked the gameplay. "They were all into it, none of us had any complaints about how they were doing the gameplay, we all thought it was solid" [source]

The Lighthouse isn't literally an actual lighthouse by the sea. It's in the Crossroads. It's "like a bubble in the Crossroads, kind of like what Morrigan brings you to" in DA:I. "It's its own little bubble, it's not actually the Crossroads, it's like its own little bubble of reality." "It's not really in the Fade, but it kinda is, but it's kinda not". "It's so cool, I loved it so much [...] it's very comfy". It used to belong to Solas and "as you walk around there, you will see, like, stuff, that kinda shows what Solas has been up to for the past couple years" [source]

"They say in the [Game Informer cover] article that [The Lighthouse] like looks gaudy, and stuff, and like it does, in like an ancient elven way, but it's not like going to grandma's house which has that 2005 Tuscan kitchen feel." It sounds like there are a lot of frescos made by Solas in there. "It's kind of like, sad, too, 'cause it's a little bit like, ancient elven bachelor pad that he's been too busy to really keep up with it". "I think it's the coolest hub [in a DA game] by far" [source]

After the gameplay reveal video, Solas essentially gets trapped in the new prison he was trying to build for Ghil and Elgar'nan. "I don't think they explain it well in the [GI cover] article what happens, like, lore-wise, like how this connection between Solas and Rook one, works, and then two, like, how it's done. [...] From that [Community Council participation and talking to devs], I have a better understanding of this link, and I do think the explanation given [in-game] is good, and is satisfying to me. They're just not explaining it well in the article, I do think they give a better reason in the game"[source]

Caitie shared that she doesn't know why marketing for the game keeps saying/trying to say that Rook isn't a Chosen One as a talking point. "Maybe [Rook] wasn't chosen, [they] just happened to be there, but now there is a connection there, like [they] can't just leave, [they] have that strange Solas connection that nobody else has". "In this game Rook was just at the wrong place at the wrong time, or right place right time, depending on how you look at it, and it could have been anyone in that scene, that's kind've what they're trying to say" [source]

Photomode is something the devs expressed to Community Council that they want to include in the game [source]

User: "many of us would love to see cosplay kits again of the new companions. Just thought to throw that out into the ether" Trick: "Agreed! Definitely bring that up to official BioWare accounts. I think it's a great idea." [source]

John: "at this point my brain is about 70% DATV and 30% everything else" [source]

User: "I keep looking at that horn [Taash's blue one], thinking: 1. What -is- it made of?" Karin Weekes-West: "If only we knew!" [source] User: "If this turns out to be some high-value gemstone or crafting mat, I can't promise I'll be able to suppress certain... larcenous urges." Karin: "How very Lords of Fortune of you! :D <3 It really is SO PRETTY, isn’t it? Our art team is so good. :)" [source]

User: "I need to know if Rook gets their own room CAN WE DECORATE" Carly: ":^)" [source]

User: "anyway they [Neve and Harding] are both in this concept art. next to each other even. this has to mean they are both alive after the prologue. right? right???" Carly: ":^)" [source]

Kala: "the overall UI is very nice" [source]

Kala: "I remember the sliders [in CC] having pretty good range tbh, so probably pretty tall and pretty short" [source]

Kala: "I can't wait to learn who the VAs for Rook are! I know one and I know people will be really excited for this person to join the Dragon Age family 🤫" [source]

[crafty-butch]

Embalmed

A short story by me (tw: body horror, self-harm kinda)

Did you know embalming isn't actually that common, worldwide? I didn't. Sure, there are some famous exceptions–looking at you, pharaohs–but embalming random schlubs is mostly a US thing. Plenty of religions ban it outright. Islam, Judaism, several branches of Christianity…

Bear with me. I promise I have a point.

Anyway, I've got no opinion on what God wants us to do with our corpses. I've never been religious. I'm still not, weird as that sounds. But I'm with Islam, Judaism, and several branches of Christianity on this one. Just skip the embalming and bury the body before it starts to rot. It'll be easier for everyone, on the off chance someone decides to bring them back.

No, this isn't a joke. Look, I'm not saying it's likely, okay? I know the stats. Less than twenty confirmed resurrections in the last half-century. Maybe twice that many ambiguous cases. Actually ambiguous, that is. Just because someone is flaired “unconfirmed” on r/Resurrected doesn't mean there's a chance in Hell they're legit. So, yeah, I get it's unlikely. But let's jump back to embalming real quick.

You know how it works, right? At least vaguely? Blood goes out, formaldehyde goes in. Well, that's step one. Step two is sucking all the non-blood fluids out of your body cavity and swapping those for embalming fluid too. They also sew your mouth shut, stuff some cotton in you to stop any leaking–I could go on, but I won't. Like I said, I don't have any issue with embalming from a treatment-of-the-dead-body standpoint. I'm not trying to make anyone feel bad for embalming Great-Aunt Edith, here. I'm just saying, if the dead body becomes an alive body, you can see why there might be some issues.

Yeah, yeah, I know what you're going to say: “It's magic, dumbass.” And, yes, it is. That's why waking up with your mouth sewn shut and your body stuffed full of formaldehyde doesn't immediately kill you again. Doesn't make it fun, though.

Okay, maybe I shouldn't focus on the mouth thing. I'm sure it's happened to someone, but my sister cut the stitches out before she brought me back. She was thorough like that. I just feel like it's easier to picture, you know? Mouth won't open and hurts when you try. The rest of it's harder.

I don't blame my sister for not dealing with the formaldehyde. I know there wasn't much she could do about it. If she'd had more time, I'm sure she could've come up with something, but once you've dug up a body, you're kind of on a (ha) deadline. If someone sees you, you're done. So I get it. I've had a lot of time to think it over, and I'm still not sure what she could've done better. Other than just letting me stay dead.

I don't want to sound ungrateful, but…maybe I am? A little bit? I know that's an awful thing to say. It's not like I wanted to die. That's not what this is about. It's also not about how super amazingly great the afterlife is. Sorry to disappoint, but I have no idea. I don't remember anything between the hospital and waking up on the grass with a chest full of embalming fluid. Does that mean there's nothing after? Or did coming back just give me amnesia? No idea. I leave that one to the philosophers.

My sister probably would've had an opinion.

She was always…

Let me tell you about my sister.

She was great. I'm not saying this because of what happened. She really was incredible. Almost perfect. One of those people who's so smart and so kind and so beautiful and so goddamn humble but not so humble you can even accuse them of humblebragging, to the point where you can't help but hate them a little for making you look so fucking shitty in comparison and then you feel like the biggest bitch in the world and that just makes you hate them more.

Okay, maybe she wasn't quite as perfect as all that. After I came back, I learned some things. Turns out she was just as much of a fuckup as me, in her own way. She was just better at hiding it. But I never met that version of her. In my memories, she's still just Little Miss Impossibly Perfect. I wish she'd told me about any of it. Maybe…

No, that isn't fair. Why would she tell me anything that could get her in trouble? Maybe I would've hated her less, or maybe I would've just gone and told our parents. Even once we grew up. Would I really have been able to resist knocking her off that pedestal? I'd like to think I would, but come on. Look how I'm talking about her. And that's after she sold her soul for me.

If you're thinking right now that the world probably would've been better off with her instead of me, you're not the only one. Don't worry, I won't take it personally. Or maybe you're not thinking that at all. I've been told I project onto other people.

Maybe you're just confused about why I'm talking about her in the past tense. After all, it's not like selling your soul kills you, and you've probably never met someone unensouled. Or maybe you have, and you know exactly why I'm talking like this. Probably not, though. There are a lot more unensouled than there are people who were resurrected–people sell their souls for all sorts of reasons–but there are a lot more fakers too. Pro tip: if someone claiming they sold their soul gives any sign of caring about literally anything, including whether you believe them, they're lying to you.

So, yeah, she's still here. I know I keep saying it, but I'm not religious. I don't think my sister is burning in Hell while her empty husk sits up here, and if you ask me, that's just a real convenient excuse not to help the person who's still right there in front of you. Whatever a “soul” actually is, there's clearly someone here.

Sorry, I might be preaching to the choir here. And I don't want to sound like I think every religious person thinks that way. I just made the mistake of talking to my parents this weekend, and I'm still a little mad. Or a lot mad. Look, I know I'm getting off topic. Just, real quick, I want to explain.

She's still my sister. I'm not denying that. I keep saying she was this or she was that because she's not really any of those things anymore. She's not cruel, but she doesn't care enough to be kind. I'm sure she's still smart, but she doesn't actually want to use her smarts for anything. She barely eats if I don't pester her into it. I don't think she'd have an opinion on what my lack of memory says about the afterlife anymore. But, hey, maybe she would. Maybe I should ask.

Anyway. None of this is really my point. My point is, waking up next to your own open grave is freaky enough when you're not choking on formaldehyde. It took weeks before I was mostly bleeding blood again. (Yeah, I checked. Don't judge. You'd be curious too.) I coughed up embalming fluid for months. My insides still don't feel quite right. I could get them checked out, but I'll be honest with you. I don't want to know. I haven't been anywhere near a doctor since I got back.

I know, you don't think this will happen to you. No one you know is the right combination of smart enough to wade through all the bullshit to figure out how to revive you and stupid enough to go through with it. And you're probably right. But I thought that too.

[thisischaostragic]

one aspect of ghost agatha that i really love and think has a lot of potential is that, for the first time in their entire relationship, agatha is able to engage with rio as only her lover.

agatha's life has been marked by people who are supposed to love and care for her wanting her dead, and then the one person who actually does show her genuine love and care is also the one entity who is literally required to enforce her death one day. i suspect that their breakup wasn't only about rio taking nicky, but also about agatha realizing that no amount of love and care will prevent rio from "betraying" her. rio is the natural order of all things, and agatha is a mortal(ish) speck of dust. and she gets stubborn and defensive and angry because what the hell else is she supposed to do? how do you break up with somebody who you already know you'll die beside? adding to the mix, of course, that agatha clearly doesn't actually want to break up with rio, it's kinda horrifying. rio is everywhere, rio is inevitable, and if rio truly wanted to wield the full extent of her power over agatha, there would be absolutely fucking nothing agatha could do about it.

and yet... they are SO in love, and they want each other so badly, and they are totally able to just... get back together. but agatha, being agatha, absolutely will not apologize while she's in a position of cosmic submission. but agatha, also being agatha, figured out a way to get herself away from the reaches of rio's power. and i guess you could interpret that as her pushing rio away, but i very much think that it's the only thing that could possibly allow agatha to be vulnerable with rio again. she's no longer preemptively grieving the pain of rio watching her die and not intervening, because, well, we got that over with! agatha gets to just be death's controversially young wife, and they can finally have a conversation... not quite as equals, but much closer, which i suspect would allow a softer version of agatha to emerge now that she's done waiting for the other shoe to drop.

[famwhy]

"You always were too smart..."

"...for your own good."

Scream 1996

Yandere! Billy Loomis X F!Reader

Synopsis: The Woodsboro massacre was a case that had been announced to be closed as soon as it was opened. The answer was obvious, right? There were two witnesses after all. Mr Prescott snapped, killed a bunch of kids, then shot himself in the head as a result of the nearing anniversary of his wife's death—two of your close friends confirmed it. Why, then, did you feel the need to meddle? Why couldn't you just mind your own goddamn business?!

Warnings: Mentions of death, Gore, Manipulation, Threat/Violence

"It just doesn't make any sense!"

None of it did. The witnesses, the evidence, the murders—it was just too big of a headache to deal with.

You didn't know why you were still doing it; still looking into this case even in the depths of midnight. It was closed, the chief said so himself—your two best friends were there, they saw what happened and recalled the events as such, their stories had even been perfectly aligned...

...almost too perfectly.

It was dumb—and you were probably being paranoid but—nothing felt right. If this was all Sidney's dad's doing then... why kill Casey Becker and Steve Orth? What did they have to do with him? You would've understood if they had attended Stu's party and were just caught in the crossfire but that wasn't the case, they were killed before the massacre—days before, in fact. Why? Why target them?

And—why would a murderer, who made sure all of his victims were dead, stab both Billy and Stu just perfectly so that he missed their vitals and didn't dig deep enough for them to actually be able to die of blood loss?—or, at least, not for a long while. Wouldn't he want to also make sure they were dead before offing himself?

The weapon too—why the hell did you only find a gun at the scene of the crime when there was evidence of a knife being used as well? If he didn't care enough to dispose of the gun he used to kill himself and others, why dispose of the knife?

None of it added up. None of it was making any sense.

"Fuck!"

Frustration coursed through you, crawling through your skin to visibly cause the bulging of your veins and urge your brows down further than ever before. The deep bags under your eyes weren't doing you any wonders either.

You were struggling and it showed.

Papers sat haphazardly strewn across the desk in front of you, each one depicting different inked up versions of the crime scene—from the body of Tatum Riley hanging by the driveway door, to the very gun that brought about the end of the accused 'murderer' himself. To the normal civilian, it would be hard to stomach—to you, it was just another Tuesday.

Except, this Tuesday seemed to really want to bash your head in.

With another aggravated huff through your lips, your hand shot out to the messy pile before sifting through it, trying to find something—anything—that would satisfy this god-awful itch in the back of your mind.

Then—a creak.

Your eyes shot up, muscles tensing as you scanned the shadows leaking through the corners of the room for the cause of the noise. One hand kept hovering above the sheets and the other slowly inched towards the drawer beneath you, fingers steadily winding around the knob before—

"Kid, what are you doing here?"

The flick of a switch came with the familiar voice that asked you that question; a voice that instantly caused your optics to widen and your back to suddenly go from lax to rigid as you clumsily fumbled around in your seat. "Sheriff!"

He grunted, voice gruff as he continued, "It's almost one, you have school tomorrow, why the hell are you still here?"

You parted your lips—ready to respond—when he squinted and scanned the desk, opening his own mouth to speak again before you could.

"Are those all from the casefile of the Woodsboro Massacre? Kid, that case is solved. It's done. The hell are you doing still in the station this late with those files?"

Your lips tugged down as your gaze trailed his own. "It just... it doesn't feel right, chief."

When he didn't respond, you chose to keep going.

"I mean, why would he kill his own daughter? I was close with Sid, I knew her and I knew how much her dad adored her—"

"That's the thing with psychos, Y/N, they—"

"He isn't just a psycho though!" That came out unnecessarily loud, and the chief seemed to think so too with the way his brow rose pointedly as soon as the words fell out, "Sorry, I... this case has been killing me all night. It just... it doesn't line up. If he really did snap, why target Casey Becker and Steve Orth days before the anniversary of his wife's death? Why specifically them? And why leave Billy and Stu with non-lethal wounds before killing himself?

"I know I should be grateful that they're still alive considering they're my best friends and all..." you continued, tone solemn, "and I am! I really am! I just... I can't help but find this all too strange."

And as you hung your head down, your ears soon perked up to the sound of several more creaks slowly growing louder as they made their way over to your seated form. 

Then, a warmth blanketed your shoulder, causing your head to tilt up and your eyes to meet with a pair that seemed to slowly soften the longer you spent looking at them.

"Look, kid, you're a genius. That's why you work at this station. That's what you worked hard to prove to everyone here. Every cop in this town respects you—including me. If you say you think something's up with this case, then I believe you."

Your eyes lit up.

"Just... promise me you won't stay up this late investigating it. You can come down to the station as soon as school is over tomorrow but let me give you a ride home today."

You could do nothing but nod vigorously, too elated to form words as of that current moment. The nodding was enough though, and soon, you found yourself situated in the chief's car, buildings passing by in a flurry of colours as he drove over the bumps of the rocky road beneath you, gaze focused ahead.

With the incessant chatter of the radio echoing in the background, you almost couldn't hear your own thoughts. But, they were there. And they were just as unyielding in their fight for your attention.

Your skin crawled at the thought of Billy's expression if he ever found out about your doubt in his eye-witness account. Stu could brush it off easily but Billy... he was troubled, to say the least. He had a lot going on and you were one of the only people he trusted enough to share it all with; so to hear that you found him suspicious in any way would... well, it would crush him.

But, justice was justice. You pursued being a detective because it needed someone to deliver it with an iron fist. If that meant having to doubt the words of someone close to you then so be it. You worked so hard to get to where you were, you would be sure to honour it wholeheartedly.

"Here we are, kid." You blinked, turning to the officer beside you. "Get some rest, alright? See you tomorrow."

With a nod, you stepped out of the vehicle, and it didn't move an inch until you made it inside the house—staying there for a couple more seconds after the door closed before the wheels turned again as he started off once more.

And you didn't know if it was just because he was gone—his presence always being able to make you feel so much more safe than you did on a daily basis—but... a sudden chill ran down your spine, pricking your skin with a feeling you couldn't quite place your finger on but an unsettling one nonetheless.

You didn't quite get enough sleep that night.

But then again, when did you ever? Perhaps your paranoia was at an all time high because of insomnia—but, you digressed.

Besides, it was a new day and you had just arrived at school. You should focus—

—that was a lot easier said than done, though. Almost mindlessly staring into your open locker, you let your thoughts drift to the nefarious case for the umpteenth time. 

Stop it, Y/N. Save it for the station.

With a sigh, you slammed the door shut and almost jumped when you caught view of what seemed to suddenly appear by your side.

There, stood one of the very boys your mind couldn't seem to hold off on thinking about recently—leaning against the locker with his defined arms crossed over his chest and his parted bangs falling over his face to frame it perfectly, basically forcing you to notice the way his lips were slightly twitched up as he gazed back at you.

"Billy," you whispered.

"Y/N," he responded, lips twitching up just a bit more, "I was wondering if you wanted to come over later? Watch a movie with me? I was gonna watch with Stu but then his family had that last minute trip thing."

Instantly, you were brought back to your conversation with the chief yesterday and your gaze drifted off to the side as you spoke—albeit a bit hesitantly—"I don't know... I should really get down to the station..."

He frowned at that, one arm unfolding to reach for your own, landing on your bicep before his fingertips slowly trailed down, ghosting over the exposed skin to send tingles down your spine as his palm finally found yours, fingers interweaving not too long after.

"C'mon, you spend so much time at the station now—it's like you're more hung up on this case than me. I barely ever get to see you. I miss my favourite girl."

That was true. Not the part about him barely seeing you (well, that was true too but—), the part about you being more hung up on the case than him—and he was actually there in person. It had only been a few days but Billy and Stu had seemed to move on just fine—which was strange considering the fact that, y'know, both of their girlfriends were dead.

Maybe, if you said yes, you'd be able to ask some specific questions to Billy; see if he was hiding any details from you.

"Okay," slowly, you nodded, "Yeah, sure, I'll come over."

At that, his lids fell halfway down his eyes before he purred out—voice borderline seductive—"Perfect."

To any girl who was none the wiser, that would send pleasant shivers down their spine—the shivers running down your spine, though, were anything but pleasant.

The rest of the school day breezed by and all you could find yourself thinking about was the case and Billy—he was practically living rent-free in your head. Even as he showed up at your last class—leaning against the wall in that way that just screamed Billy Loomis—you found yourself too stuck in your thoughts about him to be able to pay attention to the real him.

And he noticed.

"Y/N? You good?"

You blinked, tilting your head to his form as he walked beside you, the light breeze blowing slightly against his beautiful brown locks. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He frowned, reaching the hand that had been brushing against your own this whole time further towards you before asking, "You sure?"

Lightly, and as subtly as you could, you pulled your hand away. "Yeah, I'm sure."

He tilted his head down towards where your hands would've met and you watched as his lips pulled taut, expression almost appearing... blank as he stared at the empty space before his gaze flitted back up and he stuffed his hands into his pockets, muttering out a gruff 'okay' as he did so.

The rest of the walk to his house was silent—the wind and mindless chatter of other teenagers being the only thing your ears could pick up on.

And as you made it to his door, your heart constricted a little—thoughts wandering back to the look on his face after you rejected his seek for touch. Billy wasn't usually a physical person, at least, not with anyone but you and his now-dead girlfriend.

Though, even with Sid, his touch seemed a little more tense and uncertain than with you. You noticed the way he barely hesitated to hold you; the way he almost seemed relieved when he did finally get to feel you—be it against him or just your presence in the room. 

If you didn't know any better, you'd say he had a crush on you. But he had a girlfriend already—one he asked out, no less—so that couldn't be the case. The only explanation was that he really valued you as a friend. And that thought pricked you so much more than it should've.

Perhaps... perhaps you were being too paranoid with your thinking. The case was done. Over. You should just lay it to rest before you ended up really hurting one of your best friends.

Yeah... yeah. You'd do just that. You were going to enjoy this day with Billy. No more getting caught up in cases that were already solved. Nope. It was time to be there for your best friend.

With that thought in mind, you reached out your hand, slowly intertwining your fingers with the tall boy's own as he opened the doors of his home—pausing for a moment to glance back at you with wide eyes before his lips stretched up more than you had ever seen before and he tugged on your arm.

It was the littlest of force but it was sudden enough to send you tumbling into his chest as his arms engulfed you wholy; entirely. You could practically feel that familiar sense of relief radiating off his form and you couldn't help the laugh that echoed off yours.

"God, I missed you," he mumbled into your hair and a small, gentle smile graced your lips.

"I missed you too."

You stood there for a few more moments, basking in each others presence for just a little longer before you decided to pull away—albeit being met with a little resistance from Billy's end but, you were eventually successful.

"Alright, c'mon, you big sap, let's go in and watch your favourite scary movie." 

He grinned at that, instantly moving to grab your hand again as he led you to his room—rushing through the clear, monotone halls before he arrived at his wooden door and opened it with a wide swing of his arm. 

Soon, you found yourself seated on his bed, feet kicking back and forth as you awaited his presence. He had gone to go retrieve the VHS containing his movie from the ground floor so it was just you sat in the confines of the room riddled to the brim with horror posters from all sorts of media.

For a jock, he sure was a nerd.

One particular thing stood out to you, though—a small, rectangular bit of paper clipped to a string. It illustrated a smaller version of both yourself and Billy, stood beside each other with large grins on your faces—carefree and bright in their nature; loving and tender.

He still had that?

Unable to stop yourself, you moved to get a closer look—

—only to almost stumble when your foot caught the edge of something that certainly wasn't the ground.

A box—dull and beaten up. It was made up purely of cardboard which definitely wasn't doing it any wonders when it came to durability, that was for sure. The brown colour was quite unsightly to look at and the way some parts seemed almost... maroon was strange, to say the least.

Ever the investigator, you almost couldn't help the way your fingers naturally curved around the lid, slowly lifting the rough material up before shifting it to the side just in time to catch a familiar mask staring right back at you.

Mouth opened wide in an endless scream as soulless black eyes glared into your form—the sharp silver of a cutting blade coated in crimson laying beside it. It was almost too much to process at once.

And as you picked up the leather notepad sat beneath the dark robe under the mask, the gears slowly started turning in your head.

Flicking through the pages only further solidified your conclusion.

That mask belonged to Ghostface. That knife laying next to it was coated in blood. Unless there was some other murder that happened between now and the massacre, this was definitely the missing evidence from the crime scene. 

And it was all in Billy Loomis' room.

You had an inkling, but this... this was on a whole other level.

The notebook detailed different ways to rid yourself of evidence when committing a murder, each one being linked back to a particular horror movie—even going as far as to have quotes obsessively scribbled near them with timestamps and everything. It was insane.

But, by far, the craziest thing was that Billy—your Billy—committed all of this. And if Billy was in on it, then so was Stu.

They both had murdered your whole friendship group that night.

Your fingers shook as you slowly stood up, legs barely able to hold your weight with how weak that realisation rendered you. It was like a bucket of ice cold water had been splashed onto you, drenching you from head to toe with the cruelty of the world.

Then—a click.

Slowly, you turned, book slipping from between your fingers as your eyes landed on the figure at the doorway.

Instantly, your hands shot up.

Billy stood there—expression blank as his eyes seemed almost... lifeless—with one hand raised and fingers wrapped around a black L-shaped object.

Your muscles grew tense. "Billy..."

"Stu's a fucking idiot," scoffed he, "I told him to burn all that stuff but he insisted we keep it as some sort of memento mori—something to remember our success with."

He took a step forward. You took a step back.

"But let's be honest, Y/N, you would've found out eventually, right?" As he spoke, your gaze stayed trained onto the gun, watching as he flailed it around—pupils shaking and hysteria slowly but surely clouding his eyes. "You always were too smart for your own good."

Your heart was beating ten miles a minute, practically playing drums in your ears with how loud it was as you continued to back away. "Billy, put the gun down."

"Y'know, Stu wanted to kill you... but I said no. Wanna know why?" He was now grinning from ear-to-ear. "'Cause I love you. I always have. Even as I was fucking that stupid whore Sidney that night, all I could think of was you."

You were running out of room to move back to. "Billy..."

"There! I confessed!" He suddenly rose his volume, and you winced a little. "Isn't that what you want?! A confession?! There's your fucking confession, Y/N!"

Getting kind of sick of all the ignoring, you spat back, "You know damn well that isn't the type of confession I want!"

"Well, maybe if your hadn't been such a snooping whore I wouldn't have to give you it!" 

Here. There. Everywhere. He kept pointing that thing around so carelessly while his finger stayed hovering over the trigger, just one jerk away from a misfire; one jerk away from your possible end.

"Oh, baby, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. I promise."

"Billy! Be careful with that damn thing!"

A slam.

"You know, Y/N, I wouldn't even have to use this if you minded your own goddamn business!"

Your back hit the wall, and the barrel was now pointing directly. at. you.

"So pretty for me," he whispered, voice having mellowed out so suddenly—so dementedly—you almost couldn't believe your ears as he closed in on you, practically pressing his body right up against yours, "My pretty girl."

The barrel of the gun was directly under your chin now, being used to tilt your head and lock your gaze with his own, crazed one.

"Such a clever girl, aren't you, dollface?" His praises came out steadily, voice low and husky as he continued to coo, "My clever little detective."

And as the world went black around you, you caught one more voice enter the room.

"Took ya long enough."

[beaulesbian]

I've been thinking about the Whiskey Peak Luffy vs Zoro fight and how nothing is truly finished or contained within just one arc in One Piece - where the themes and character development always overlap and span over many later arcs as well.

It's an interesting scene, and I feel it's almost impossible to dissect that fight just within that arc alone - like it wasn't meant to be taken seriously by itself at that time, but later with more context of what's to come after that.

A short version: It's a great set up of how the trust between Luffy and Zoro would develop after this fight.

Specifically, how it gets to this in Skypiea:

And a longer version under the read more:

To start at the beginning again - Luffy knew about Zoro's reputation by the time he reached Shells Town and heard about him as Demon Pirate Hunter of the East Blue, and decided to see if he's a good guy to have on his crew.

Once Luffy freed Zoro and they took down Morgan together, they could see how the other was similary strong, as well as they were able to fight in sync and well together, but maybe they still didn't understand how much they could depend on each other.

With Luffy, anyone who offers him food becomes something like his hero. If they offer him hospitality, he would protect them with his life.

With Zoro, he's always looking out for the danger, used to travel alone (or with just Johnny and Yosaku), he does what's needed, and usually without telling the others.

And this is, I think, that crucial moment when they realize this about each other -

Luffy wakes up and sees the people who helped him lying on the ground, and telling him that Zoro was the one who did that. Luffy goes berserk without needing to hear why, because there shouldn't be a reason why. Whatever Zoro tells him must be a lie, right? He must have gone mad.

Maybe if Zoro didn't fight back, Luffy would see something was wrong, but Zoro isn't one to back down from a fight, especially when being falsely accused, and if he saw that Luffy was fighting him for real, he in turn would give him the same courtesy. They're both very stubborn in the same way.

The misunderstanding trope can be a bit annoying, but I think it's all just to see them actually fight together on equal footing. It was one of the first examples of what they can do together.

After this fight, where they defeat the two Baroque Works agents together, and after everything is explained, Luffy understands, in his own way.

When rereading this part of "I thought you got mad (...)", I had a feeling that Luffy might have even think Zoro could become a danger to others and was ready to just.. contain him. He heard about him as a demon pirate hunter - of course, those where a lot of talking from the Marine's side of the story perpetuating the myth of him, Zoro never called himself that and Luffy knows it, but part of me thinks maybe Luffy wouldn't care about that - he just wanted Zoro on his crew no matter what, and would deal with the consequences after that. Like in Whiskey Peak.

But what's even more interesting is, since this fight, they began to understand how they work separately.

I kind of like that they don't come back or talk more about this fight, because once it's done, they're past that. But both take it as a learning experience, Luffy still has a long journey to go as a captain, and I feel with knowing what Zoro does without saying, Luffy began finding the footing as captain with putting this specific trust in Zoro - learning he can fully depend on him to protect their crew when something would be amiss, when some danger would be nearby.

And that despite the sudden fight, the bad communication and the immediate resolve, Zoro sees another most important part of Luffy's character - how far he would go to help someone who offered him food or helped Luffy and his crew. And this knowledge has helped Zoro many times since this arc, in situation where the rest of the crew might not understand Luffy's thinking, Zoro's usually the first one who does understand.

On Jaya, that trust takes the main role when Luffy orders Zoro not to fight Bellamy's crew:

Later on Skypiea Luffy says it out loud how much he trusts Zoro to protect the rest of the crew:

It goes on each arc more and more, subtle but with that trust between them deepening.

With Zoro letting Luffy know being their captain is hard but he cannot falter,

in Post Enies Lobby it's Zoro telling him what rules need to be followed, otherwise the crew would fall apart,

It feels since that Whiskey Peak fight, Zoro really took it onto himself to protect the crew without having to say so, and Luffy understood that's what he does. It's Zoro's instinct to do that - Skypiea protecting Robin and Chopper, Thriller Bark - protecting Brook, saving Sanji and of course Luffy from Kuma. On Punk Hazard, while Luffy is against Ceasar, Zoro fights Monet so Nami and Robin could get away. On Dressrosa his final fight against Pica is to protect Usopp and Kinemon.

I also like this bit on Zou, where Zoro doesn't enjoy the Minks' attention on him, and Luffy reprimands him that it's rude to talk back to someone who's hosting a feast for them. Again, kind of a callback to Whiskey Peak, ch. 807

And then there's whole Wano, with Zoro protecting Tama, Otoko and Yasuie, Hiyori, and it gets very personal when they're hurt.

During Onigashima Raid he keeps reminding Luffy that he would go with him up to the rooftop to fight Kaido, because this time the enemies are too dangerous and he needs to protect Luffy as well. And they both protect each other there:

Conclusion: I love the Whiskey Peak fight now, because it brings up many small details that are so important over the span of many arcs later, slowly showing just how different these two are built and how much trust they learnt to put in the other.

bonus:

On their way to Enies Lobby on the train, this scene looks very similar to their Whiskey Peak fight, except this time they're intentionally using their strengths together against the Aqua Laguna.

Whiskey peak, ch. 112

Water Seven, ch. 367

[glorious-spoon]

a miserable pile of secrets [9-1-1 | Eddie Diaz & Hen Wilson | 1/1]

1.8K words | friendship | emotional hurt/comfort | implied/referenced cheating

a miserable pile of secrets [on AO3]

She finds Eddie up on the rooftop, which makes sense, given that Buck is currently working out his feelings on the heavy bag after Bobby finally snapped at the two of them to get their acts together unless they wanted to be benched. Chim's down in the weight room with him, which means that Hen is up here in the warm night air to talk some sense into the other half of their codependent little unit, who is currently perched on one of the folding chairs that they usually leave up here. He's as still as a statue, tense like he's afraid of what his body might do if he lets it move.

"Hey," Hen says, and he gives a jerky little nod of acknowledgement. "Mind if I sit?"

"Go ahead."

"Thanks." She pulls out one of the other chairs and sits down. "So."

"Bobby sent you."

"I sent myself," she corrects mildly, and watches Eddie's shoulders hunch a little. "I don't think I've ever seen you and Buck fight like that."

Though the truth is, she really only caught the tail end of it. Buck's frustrated voice rising on, "Do you hear yourself? How did you think this was going to work out? Have you even thought about Chris? What, you were just going to introduce him to her like—"

"Chris? Since when is how I parent my son any of your business?"

"I don't know, Eddie, you kind of made it my business when you put me in your fucking will!"

"Yeah, well, maybe that was a mistake!"

There was ringing silence in the wake of that. Then Buck said something quieter, inaudible from where Hen and Chim were standing frozen outside the locker room door, and Eddie spat, "Go to hell. I'm done talking about this."

The door slammed open and he stormed out, only pausing for a moment when he saw the two of them standing there. It wasn't until he'd already stomped up the stairs to the loft that Buck emerged, scowling.

"I don't want to talk about it," he snapped, before either of them could speak.

That was six hours ago. Neither of them has said a single word to each other since outside of the bare minimum on calls. The tension in the back of the truck has been thick enough to cut with a knife, and none of Chim's increasingly desperate jokes has done a damn thing to lighten the mood.

Hen doesn't blame Bobby for being fed up with the pair of them. She's caught somewhere between that and worry, herself. This isn't like them. Either of them.

Eddie shrugs again, tense. "I don't really feel like talking about it."

"Mm." 

Hen kicks her legs out, relaxes into the chair and waits him out. It doesn't take long. Maybe two minutes before he lets out an angry little huff and says, "Marisol dumped me this morning."

"Oh," Hen says. That explains some of the mood, anyway. "Well, I'm sorry to—"

"I cheated on her. She found out."

She closes her mouth. For a moment she just looks at him: his tight jaw, his hands in fists on his thighs, so tense he looks like he's about to snap. Like looking through a warped mirror to a younger version of herself, and maybe that's why she manages some gentleness when she says, "That doesn't sound like you."

"Yeah. That's what Buck said. Shows what he knows."

"Why'd you do it?"

"It doesn't matter. It was stupid. I fucked up."

"If you're waiting on me to tell you otherwise, you'll be waiting a while." Eddie lets out a sharp, bitter little bark of laughter, and Hen adds. "I've been there, you know."

"Yeah. But it's not—Karen forgave you."

"Eventually, yeah. She didn't have to."

"Yeah," Eddie says, and then doesn't say anything else. 

"Is that what you and Buck were fighting about?"

He shrugs again. Like talking to a damn teenager, Hen thinks. Not Denny, with his easy sweetness, but like one of the other kids who come through their home sometimes on temporary placements: already on the defensive, claws out, ready to fight. 

"I guess," he mutters finally.

"You put him in your will?" Eddie scowls at her, and she shrugs. "Hey, if you want it to be a secret, maybe don't have your domestics at the top of your lungs in the locker room we all use."

He scoffs, clearly annoyed, but doesn't get up and storm off, so she's counting that as a win. Finally, he says, "Yeah. He's down as Chris's legal guardian if something happens to me. Since—uh, since I almost died in that well collapse a few years back."

Oh. Hen contemplates that for a moment, squares it up in her head with what she already knows about Eddie. It's not, she'll admit, completely out of left field. But still. "And you think maybe that was a mistake?"

Eddie groans, dropping his head back. "I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean it."

"Maybe you should tell Buck that."

"He's pissed at me."

"Seems mutual."

"Yeah," Eddie says, wry and still kind of irritated. But then he sighs. "You ever do something where you know the whole time you're doing it that it's going to blow up in your face, and somehow that still doesn't stop you?"

"Yep," Hen says, remembering a dark little motel room and the sharp cut of Eva's smile. A whole damn pile of fuck-ups, that relationship was, and she dragged it along with her to almost ruin the best thing in her life.

"I keep thinking I see Shannon. It's like she's just around the corner, like if I turn around fast enough, she'll be there, and I'll be able to go back and make it right. But I can't."

"No. You can't."

"It's been five fucking years."

"No timeline on grief."

"I went on a date with a woman just because she looked like her." Hen raises her eyebrows at him. He slouches lower in his seat. "A couple of dates. It—didn't end well."

"Mm. You mean because she turned out to be a whole damn person who wasn't Shannon, or because your girlfriend found out?"

"Both," Eddie mutters. "Believe me, I already heard it from Buck."

"Oh, I believe it."

"But he's—" Eddie snaps his mouth shut.

"Kind of a hypocrite on this particular subject?" Hen offers.

"That's not what I was going to say. He's with Tommy now. So."

"So?"

"Never mind. It doesn't matter."

Hen would dearly love to interrogate that line of thinking, but she keeps her mouth shut. For a little while, they don't speak. It's a transient kind of peace; their next call could come at any minute. But for now, the city's as quiet as it ever is, lit up and beautiful in the distance.

Eventually, Eddie shifts in his chair, straightens up like he's bracing for something, then says, abruptly, "Can I ask you a personal question?"

Hen raises her eyebrows. "Go ahead."

"Have you ever been with a guy?"

"Excuse me?"

"Forget it," he says quickly, hunching in on himself again. "I don't even know why I asked. You can tell me to go to hell."

She almost does tell him to go to hell. Has her mouth open and everything. But then she takes another good look at his face and lets the words dissipate. 

"No," she says finally. "Kissed a couple of boys in high school, but I pretty much always knew it wasn't for me."

"Oh." Eddie's mouth twists. He's still staring a hole in the concrete by his feet, and Hen wishes like hell that this was easier for him, that he could have stumbled into it with wide eyes and open arms without leaving a trail of wreckage in his wake. Buck managed it, but it's not like that for everyone. She knows that.

"Karen was engaged to a man, you know," she says, and she watches him still, watches him turn, finally, to look at her. 

"I didn't know that."

"It was a long time ago. College sweetheart. She called it off a week before the wedding. Broke his damn heart, from what I hear. Probably better in the long run, though, all things considered."

Eddie laughs at that, a raw, horrible little sound. "I was a bad husband to Shannon. I loved her so much, and I still could never—and I always thought that maybe, if we'd just had more time, maybe I could have gotten it right, and we could have been a family again, and it would have been okay."

"But she died."

"She asked me for a divorce."

"Oh." Hen takes a breath, lets it out. Careful, careful. "I didn't know that."

"Nobody knows that. I mean. Bobby does. But nobody else. Because she died two days later, so I never had to—to tell anyone. I never had to admit it. I could keep pretending. But it doesn't even matter, because I've also fucked up every relationship I've been in since. So it's kind of obvious where the problem is."

"Mm. You know what my mama used to say?"

Eddie cuts her a look. "What?"

"Get down from that cross, we need the wood."

When he laughs this time, it sounds a little more real. Hen nudges her knee against his, and for a minute they sit there together in silence.

"I fucked up," he says again, but it's calmer.

"Yep."

"What the hell do I say to Buck?"

Not Marisol, Hen notes. Though the truth is she's pretty sure that whole relationship was dead and gone long before whatever went down this morning. Maybe from the very beginning. Eddie's just got a bad habit of dragging those corpses around. "Sorry might be a good start."

"He's gonna ask why. I don't have a good answer. I can't—" He looks over at her, and all Hen can think is that he looks so damn young. "I can't."

"So tell him that. You know he's not gonna push it."

"Yeah, he will."

"He's worried about you."

Eddie scoffs. "Yeah."

That was, Hen surmises what the fight was about in the first place. Unstoppable force, immovable object. Sometimes she wishes she could just knock their stubborn heads together until they showed some sense.

"He loves you," she says, and Eddie flinches.

"I know that," he mutters.

Hen sighs. "Just talk to him. You don't have to tell him anything you're not ready to tell him, but just—talk to him. Okay? For all our sakes."

"Yeah, okay," Eddie says, sounding defeated. "Sorry about that."

"We'll survive," Hen says. She bumps her knee against his again, and they sit there together in silence, watching the city lights, until the bell starts going off below.