#and i for one relish the thought of being compared to a clown

[communistkirby]

i am reopening my ask box because i haven’t gotten an anon in centuries, and i bet y’all have some incendiary shit to say

also because i am bored

[pink-tk-a-latte]

hellooo!! i’m back :D

may i req siglai (ler!nikolai, lee!sigma)? maybe a bit of silly romance because i ♡ them, (and i feel like making sigma twice as flustered just for fun. haha)

for the scenario/vibe, maybe nikolai decided that sigma looks too “grumpy” or stoic all the time, so he tries makes him laugh by tkling him? it’ll be funny if nikolai accidentally tkled him and decided to continue after sigma reacted. but that’s just a silly “what if” you don’t need to put it in the fic if you have other ideas!! /gen

also i’m so happy to see an atsulucy fan here. i love them so much they make me explode

- 🎀

SIGLAI REQ SIGLAI REQ!!!!!!!!!!

I love Siglai and Atsulucy an UNHEALTHY amount so thank you so much for the request, bow anon!!!! EXCITEMENT!!!!!

I thought this one would be a bit quicker to write since I already have so much Siglai written LMAO— except I didn’t use ANYTHING that I’ve already written and instead wrote a FERRIS WHEEL SCENE FOR SIGLAI (bc I read a fic recently and I love Ferris wheel scenes…) 🎡

AGAIN I’m sorry for how long this took. AGAIN I don’t have any reference for how long it should take. I’m seriously in love with this prompt so I feel bad for not getting it done right away 😭😭 I hope it is to your liking!!! Siglai anthology date— I love you, it’s ruining my life

Disclaimer for heights, possible claustrophobia, and getting stuck on a Ferris wheel (but it’s okay cuz abilities)

Sfw tickle fic!!!!!!! 1.5k words. Romantic (Pre-Relationship?) Nikosigggggggg

you can be alice, i’ll be the mad hatter

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

“It’s nice to be back up in the air, isn’t it?”

Nikolai chirped as he turned to his companion. He hoped to see that normal-ish wonder and glee in Sigma’s eyes as he gazed out the window of the Ferris wheel box, watching the hustle and bustle of the fair below, neon lights and neon colors and the screaming of ride-goers fearing for their lives.

Instead, he found Sigma watching him, frowning as if in contemplation.

“Sigma~!” Nikolai waved a gloved hand in his face. “Sum Sum! Cookie! Siggy-my-Siggy!”

“Hm?” Sigma snapped to attention, mirror-like eyes clearing as he shook his head. Nikolai squealed internally as the braid in his hair flicked about (the one that he’d plaited). “Sorry, could you repeat that again?”

Nikolai pouted theatrically. “You’re not even looking at the view!” He put his hands together and looked up at Sigma with widened eyes. As Sigma chewed his lip guiltily, Nikolai held back a grin. “Do you not like it? Are you not having fun? Are you secretly plotting my demise?”

“What!? No! What even…” Sigma sighed and shoved Nikolai’s face. “I just had… stuff on my mind, I guess.”

Nikolai pulled closer to Sigma in response to being pushed away, now flush against his side. “Always in your head, hmmmmm?” He sandwiched Sigma’s cheeks between his hands, relishing the warmth of skin. “But I dragged you here to cut you free from all that! Look at your face! You’ll have wrinkles from sulking so much.” Nikolai squished and kneaded his face until his hands were batted away.

“It’s because you dragged me here that it’s hard for me to enjoy it! We’re supposed to be on a mission.” Guilt faded, Sigma crossed his arms and rumpled his brow. “And people keep giving us strange looks.”

Nikolai put a finger to his lips. “Have they? I didn’t notice! Why ever would they do so?”

“Because you’re wearing that.” Sigma eyed him up and down.

Obediently following his stare, Nikolai looked down at his full clown ensemble, a mishmash of patterns with a huge, frilly collar and balloon-like pants. Compared to Sigma’s lavender turtleneck and star-patterned slacks, Nikolai was dressed as though he were part of the carnival.

“But this is my normal date attire!” Nikolai wrapped himself around Sigma’s arm, winking. Framed by azure and white cotton clouds, the sky shifting behind him as they rose gradually through the air, Sigma’s face glowed pink.

“This isn’t a date!” Ah, Sigma’s flustered scowl and oh-so-cliché reaction — truly something to behold! His pretty eyes were narrowed and his perfect nose creased. It was a face that gave Nikolai impish butterflies, but he still found himself unfulfilled.

“So close! This isn’t a date… yet! Can you guess what’s missing?” Nikolai’s voice became grander, like a pop quiz host; before Sigma could respond, he continued. “I haven’t seen you smile once!”

Sigma frowned. “I have smiled.”

“Not enough! Oh, how I have failed you! What a sad, sorry, pitiful tragedy.” Nikolai pulled his lips into a grin of manic glee. With a flourish of his Overcoat, he stood, the clank of his boots on metal echoing in the bright red car. Sigma yelped, paranoid of it swinging.

He tapped a finger to his chin. “I’ve decided that I’m going to make you laugh! I bet it’s like waking up to angelic birdsong ♡.”

Sigma huffed, even as poppy red bloomed across his face. “I can laugh just fine without your help.”

“Oh? I’ve never heard you laugh before.”

“I’ve never heard you say anything funny.”

Gasping, Nikolai threw himself at Sigma’s feet, squeezing at his knees. “Cruel, cruel, so utterly cruel!”

Like that, he’d stumbled upon a windfall.

Sigma jolted, face freezing in a wobbly smile and pool-sized eyes. With a garbled yelp, he kicked at Nikolai’s chin and slapped a hand over his mouth.

Blinking, the jester squeezed again. And again. And again until Sigma, red in the face, was yanking his wrists away and shouting at him to cut it out.

Nikolai grinned.

“Whoopsie-daisy! Have I just discovered the key to Sigma’s smiles~ ✩?” He pulled himself up and leaned into Sigma’s space, forcing the other to peer up at him, fearful.

He swallowed. “I- I don’t know what you’re— WAHAhaha NOHO!”

Twisting his own arms, Nikolai had freed himself from Sigma’s grip and captured his wrists in one hand. His other kneaded circles into the top of Sigma’s knee. Sigma shook his head desperately, his cheeks curved, his lashes glued together in giddiness; Nikolai’s heart somersaulted.

“AHEAha STAhahaHAP! NAHakoholahai!”

“Yes, Little Red?” The color in Sigma’s face grew more radiant, and Nikolai trilled proudly. “Ooh, I know, you’re wondering if my theory was correct? Let’s see, let’s see… Your laughter is certainly a melody! Not quite birdsong though, perhaps more like a squalling pigeon!”

In Nikolai’s hand, Sigma’s fists clenched and unclenched. Cute. “ShuhuhUT AHAhahup!” Sigma shrieked and protested and headbutted his shoulder, attempting to push him away. Nikolai just nuzzled into his hair’s poofy, jagged part. His fingers found the contour of Sigma’s hip and exhumed a squawk and a lurch.

Like a capricious explorer, Nikolai’s mitts darted around the map that was Sigma’s figure. Fingers crawling, spidering up his thighs. A hand worming between his arm and his ribs despite how tightly he squeezed them together. Nikolai imagined Sigma’s nerves must be audibly fried, like so many hay bales after catching a spark.

“I rather like that you fight back, you know?” hummed Nikolai. “A little birdie born in a cage doesn’t know to be free, yet here you are!”

“STAhahap tahahalking about freeHEHEedom!” Even through squeals and giggles, the exasperation in his order was obvious.

Nikolai pouted. “You don’t wish to listen to my philosophy? But you’re my muse! The sight of you simply brings such marvelously poignant prose to my mind.”

He dropped Sigma’s hands, which thwacked Nikolai on his shoulders, then dug into his sleeve. “Dohohon’t youHEEhee stAHahart! PftahahaHEY!”

As he pinched at his hips, Nikolai found himself swaying to Sigma’s laughter. Rolling, euphonious, sprinkled with light, like the cosmos. Like stargazing, his joy felt pacific and snug, blanketing.

Nikolai would keep this memory locked in his vanity. With a hazy forlornness, he pondered if he would miss this sound when he was finally free.

Or perhaps he was merely losing his mind.

As suddenly as he’d started, Nikolai concluded his mischief when Sigma had burrowed into his arms, screeching muffled nonsense and beating his chest. The magnificent finale found Nikolai supporting the man by his shoulders as he wheezed and wiped away tears.

“Youhou’re such ahaha nuisahance…”

“Thank you!” Nikolai dodged the blow thrown his way.

In the end, Sigma’s meticulously sectioned hair had fallen into disorder, lily and lilac confused and astray. Out of the kindness of his heart, Nikolai began guiding the tufts back in place.

“So, is this a date yet, diamond? Is it is it!?” Nikolai fished for attention.

“You’re ridiculous,” Sigma puffed. His voice was warm and giggly, his nose buried in Nikolai’s ruff. Nikolai could feel the suppleness of Sigma’s cheek against his neck and pretended not to lean into it.

“I guess… it could be a date, but—”

Gthunk.

Sigma wrenched his head away as the Ferris wheel cart bumped and swayed. Against his wishes, Nikolai let him go.

“What happened? Did the wheel stop!?” Sigma, finally, mushed his face against the window. Indeed, they were at the peak, and the shifting of the scenery and gentle pull of the mechanisms had ceased. “We’re trapped! We need to call someone!”

Contrarily, Nikolai cackled. “Don’t worry about it.”

“What do you mean ‘don’t worry about it’?” Sigma whipped around to glare at him, frantic.

He beamed. “I mean we’re not trapped!” Brandishing his Overcoat, Nikolai stuck his hand through to boop Sigma’s nose. “Don’t work yourself into a tizzy, silly!”

“Oh.” Sigma’s posture opened in realization, coupled with a bashful sideways glance. “You… You’re right. Sorry to panic.”

“No need! It’s what I like about you.” Before Sigma could ask what that meant, Nikolai pointed to the window again. “And now you can admire the view! Isn’t it astounding?”

Relaxing in his seat, Sigma gazed at the cloud-covered sky and the flurry of the festivities below. He pressed close to Nikolai, and the pair curled around each other, like two turtle doves. “It’s nice.” He smiled his aloe vera smile. “It’s familiar.”

“Right!?” Nikolai took Sigma’s hands in his own. Sigma laughed freely, breathily. “I had a hunch you would fancy it!”

Sigma met his stare. “Thanks.” His moon-toned eyes crinkled and shone. Nikolai’s chest clenched to have such a face trained on him for once.

If he were standing, he would’ve spun around. Instead, he bowed. “Only my dearest pleasure!” He kissed Sigma’s hand just to feel his skin warm.

Then Nikolai pulled Sigma’s hands over his shoulder, so abruptly their noses bumped. Surprised and suddenly nervous eyes locked with Nikolai’s. He simpered. “But we still have so long before we’re rescued. It would be a shame to waste it.” Roguish, he rested his hand on the other’s waist. Sigma, despite his apprehensive gape, was already smiling. “Why don’t we have some fun?”

Thus, the pair made good use of their free time, and not much of it was spent enjoying the fair below.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

IB this fic <33 kiss kiss get stuck on a carnival ride

I am what they call an EmuKasa truther, I see a Ferris wheel scene and my heart explodes

Also I continue to not know WHAT COLOR SIGMA’S EYES ARE

[forever-rogue]

Just a simple clown asking for some soft Javi fluff after a particularly hard and rough day. 🥺🤡 ilyyyyyy (no pressure to write this if you are busy with other things! ) -Han 💕

Hello, please enjoy some sort Javi!

Javier x Fem!Reader; warnings; slight language, references to sex

Javier Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

The clock finally hit five o’clock, causing a small sigh to escape your lips as you almost jumped out of your office chair and grabbed your sweater and purse. You weren’t even sure what you had you in such a hurry - it wasn’t like you weren’t going home to anything in particular. Javier wouldn’t be home, having to work another overnight stakeout, and all you had too look forward to was cold, left over pizza and a dark apartment.

Thrilling. At least there were a few beers left in the fridge.

And anything was better than being stuck at the hellhole called work another minute. Not that work was that bad...it just seemed like lately that anything that could go wrong did and no matter how hard you worked it was never enough. At least it was finally the weekend and you could relax and de-stress for a few days.

It wouldn’t be the same without Javier, but that was the nature of the beast - his job. But you loved him unconditionally, as he did you, and you knew t wouldn’t always be like this. The promise of one day having a more calm and tranquil life was enough to keep you going.

As you walked the short distance home, you cursed yourself for not driving this morning when the sun had been shining brightly and spreading delicious warmth everywhere. In the morning it had seemed like a good idea; now your tried feet were screaming at you. Whatever. It was only a short walk back and you’d handled worse.

You made a game plan to keep yourself going. As soon as you got home, you were going to get a beer, run a hot bath and get warm, heat up some cold pizza, and then watch some trash television until you got sleepy enough to actually rest. You’d thought about calling Connie and seeing what she was up to, but decided against it, knowing you would just be a downer.

Repeating your plan to yourself seemed to have worked and you soon found yourself at the door of the apartment you shared with Javier, putting your key in the lock and bracing yourself for the darkness and silence.

But instead of dread and despair, you found the apartment brightly lit and the smell of cooking wafting from the kitchen, along with the soft sounds of music. Your baser instincts took over as you held a key between two fingers, ready to defend yourself if you needed. It would be odd for a thief to come in and make themselves at home in such a manner, but as you knew from your time with Javier, things could be very different from how they appeared.

“W-who’s there?” you held the key out as you slowly walking into the kitchen. But instead of an intruder, you found a very welcome surprise - there was Javier, dressed in a t-shirt and sweats, a relaxed expression on his face as he stirred something on the stove and hummed along to the music, “Javi?”

“Hi baby,” he turned to you easily with a big grin on his face as he set his spoon down and calm over to you. He reached for your outstretched hand, looking at the key before loosening your grip and tossing the keys onto the table, “did you really think that was going to work?”

“I dunno...Javi,” you couldn’t help but melt at the sight of him, looking so calm and at ease for once. He brought his hand to your cheek before leaning in and giving your lips a soft, gentle kiss, “I thought you had to work. You were supposed to be gone all weekend...”

“How much would you hate me if I told you that I lied?” his lips quirked into a nervous little smile as you crossed your arms over your chest, giving him a vain attempt at a stern look.

“I don’t know, Javi, you know we’re pretty big on honesty in this family.”

“I know,” he held out his arms to you as he motioned for you to step closer. You couldn’t say no to those soft brown eyes as you obliged and settled against his body, letting him envelope you in his warmth, “but I wanted to do something special for you. You’ve been working so hard lately and I know it’s been rough and demanding, and I figured it was high time for both of us to relax for a few days.”

“Really?” you looked at him with wide, gentle eyes as he nodded, an eager little grin on his face. You always knew he had something up on his self, but this was everything. He was a master of knowing exactly what you needed and when. You pulled back and put your hands on his face, tracing over his features before kissing his cheeks, his nose and stopping at his lips, “I love you, Javier. More than you will ever know.”

“I love you, dulzura,” he grinned at you, so gentle and delicate compared to how the world forced him to be at times. You were the shining beacon in his life, reminding him that there was still good left in the world, and that there were things worth fighting for. He nuzzled his nose against yours, taking a moment to breath you in before offering you another kiss, “how about a beer and a bath? Dinner’s pretty much done and we can eat after.”

“You took the words out of my mouth,” you sighed contentedly, “only if you join me of course.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he turned and went to the fridge to get some beers. They were your favorites - he must have gone and gotten them specially just for you, “let’s go dulzra. Time to relax.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

"What?" you asked asked as you polished off your beer and set it down on the tile floor. The whole bathroom was covered in a thin layer of steam, filled with the soft fragrance of your favorite bubble bath at the two of you laid in the tub. Javi was leaned against one side and you were sitting on his lap, laying back against his chest as he had his arms wrapped around you, "you're thinking much too loudly, Javier Peña."

"Its nothing," he promised quietly, placing a trail of soft kisses to your sweet shoulder, "nothing important."

"Anything you have to say is important," you insisted, turning your head to kiss his cheek, "out with it."

"I was just thinking that one day, we'll be able to do this whenever we want," he said softly as you nodded, "it'll be quiet and peaceful, unlike this fucking hell. I never thought I would look forward to that, but I can't wait for it."

"Soon, Javier," you promised him, reaching for his hand pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles, "we'll have it all. We already do - we have each other."

"I know," he agreed, "I don't know what I'd do without you sometimes, dulzura."

"I feel the same way, silly man," you closed your eyes and relaxed, "you always make everything better. I needed this, needed you. I love you."

"I love you," he slowly pulled his hand from yours as he slowly trailed it down your body, stopping just above your belly button, "now let me take care of you too. Show you how much I love you."

"Javier," his name was a whisper, almost caught in your throat as his hand slipped lower under the water and resting at the apex of your thighs. He stopped for your a moment, and you could already feel the tight, warm coil in your belly starting up as his fingers ghosted over you, "please."

»»————-　♡　————-««

"This is delicious," you swallowed another spoon of the delicious soup Javier prepared, "you are going to be required to make this all the time from now."

"I can only take credit for the making," he grinned, a small tinge of pink rising in his cheeks as relished in your praise, "its my Abuelita's recipe. She used to make it all the time when I was a kid."

"Well she did an excellent job," you picked up the bowl and drank the rest of it. You set it back down and looked at Javier. Reaching over, you touched his cheek, wiping a small but of soup from the corner of his mouth, "she made an amazing soup and helped raise an amazing man."

"Stop," he flushed deeper as he grabbed your bowls and went to fill them up with a second round, "you're just saying that because I made you cum."

"Nah," you insisted, eagerly accepting the bowl, "I mean, it helps, definitely. But I also happen to love you...a lot, a lot."

"Yeah?" he quirked an eyebrow as you nodded, "good, or else this could have been awkward."

"Very funny," you nudged his leg under the table, "but seriously, Javi. Thank you for this. Truly. You made my whole week. I love you."

"Te amo, dulzura," he gave you that affectionate smile you loved so much, "just wait until you see what I have planned for this weekend!"

"I look forward to it," you sighed, "but for tonight, I have something for you to look forward to as well."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," you offered up a coy little smile, "you took such good care of me. Don't you think its time I returned the favor? I'd like some dessert, Javier."

"Jesus, dulzura," he almost groaned at your words, "you're going to be the death of me."

"I don't want to do that," you gave him your doe eyes, "I just want to make you cum."

"Fuck me."

"That’s the plan, baby. That's the plan."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[aaluminiumas]

Die for Me

あなたこそが “ 海賊王 ” に なる男

Lukewarm blood gushed out from the deep wounds. Ripping apart huge chunks of flesh and feeling the solidity of a bone inside, Monet genuinely relished her superiority savoring every note of the harrowing, blood-curdling shriek the woman in her deadly embrace emitted.

That Marine girl was no good at all; her tactics may not be exactly lame or useless, nor did she lack fervor or courage, but she turned out to be too modest and polite to attack – and also feeble. While the Marines claimed to have implemented a variety of brand-new top-notch techniques that would improve fighting skills of nearly any novice, they tended to send weaklings barely able to resist a simple scuffle, let alone serious combat with high ranks such as her or Caesar. This one wasn’t an exception to the rule: though promoted, Tashigi proved her disability to be on the offensive, thus confirming Monet’s expectations and dispelling the illusion of power Smoker had successfully created earlier.

“I adore it when you yell so desperately,” the Harpy muttered nonchalantly in the unctuous voice, her lips smeared with blood. “So I might break your scapula just for fun. My fangs can go through bone like butter. What a lovely day we are having, aren’t we?.. Care to brighten it further?”

Monet’s viselike grip tightened, and a bone cracked; Tashigi’s scream of utter anguish pierced the chaos and turmoil. In a moment, the woman limped in the Harpy’s wings. This last shrill seemed to have deserted her internally, leaving little to no stamina to stand up for herself and resist the throes shooting through her fragile body. The Harpy, though, felt no remorse or contrition. Quite on the contrary, she yielded into the perverse pleasure of being in charge – her well-nurtured sadistic inclinations and proclivities could finally splurge and flourish. Normally, it was Doflamingo whose hatred of the Marines came unwrapped. He was always in command; he was always aware of the potential threat and danger that could strike at any given moment, and now she could defend him from this invasion without an innuendo on his part. He had protected her in the past, bestowed a shelter, and took care of her younger sister—

“Enough.”

A low voice, hardly louder than Tashigi’s shallow breath muffled all the sounds, including explosions and the clash in the distant rooms. A swordsman with cold resolution in the single eye stood there, unmoving, his face serious, yet completely unreadable.

Monet’s fine features contorted in a lopsided smirk, her head withdrawing from Tashigi’s injured shoulder. Spoiled by pride, the swordsman didn’t seem to see a worthy opponent in her. Good for him, she thought. The Marine’s death would be on his hands – after all, he couldn’t compare to one of the best soldiers among the Donquixotes.

“I said enough,” he growled quietly, advancing and raising his katana, the silver eye narrowing. “Didn’t you hear?”

“She shouted too loudly. Should I shut her up?” Monet’s voice remained vaguely flirtatious, her antics jaunty, but the swordsman betrayed no emotion whatsoever. Instead, without a single warning, he pivoted forward, sword at the ready. Prancing at superhuman speed, the man neatly cut her in half – her logia powers weren’t a mere obstacle to him or his blade.

“I’m a Logia, you fool,” Monet spat with a haughty grin, “You think I’m scared?”

That fact alone contributed to her arrogance and hoity-toity attitude. While the majority of the Donquixote Family had to satisfy themselves with commonplace and hackneyed Paramecias, she got lucky – Doflamingo brought in a Logia fruit, the rarest type, and presented it to her. He might have intended to give it to Vergo, who hadn’t joined the number of the fruit-eaters and preferred to use his innate physical force. At any rate, such thoughts barely intruded on her mind: Doflamingo, the Young Master she worshipped, literally made her a gift desired by many. And what a scenery it was: he called in a meeting, ordered his favorite delicacies, thus forcing the whole city to cook for him, and sprawled across his improvised throne. Trebol, giggling under his breath, Diamante with his ever-lasting smirk, the imperturbable Pica, Vergo with the rigorous mien… Well, she was never part of the elite – nor did she plan to climb higher. The seat beside Doflamingo’s feet seemed comfortable enough to occupy – this position turned her into a valuable asset, who caught all the messages and orders intoned in a low, seductive voice. Despite that, the Young Master did not banish her – he remained seated, asking her to tell them all about her first murder – committed with a taste.

Logia powers made the bearer almost invincible, and Monet, a proficient user, trained by the best, especially by Vergo, knew what she was worth.

“I’m a Logia,” the Harpy repeated, the blizzard howling louder. “It doesn’t hurt me.”

“We’ll see,” came the answer.

Not even looking at her, the man grabbed the wounded woman and hurried to the exit, while Monet, absolutely dumbfounded, discovered that she could not get together. What appeared to be a single cut turned out to be a series of swift swishes in the air that slashed her snow-made body in a split second with the power that significantly surpassed her own. The result unfolded in slow motion: the more time went, the more it hurt; paralyzed, she listlessly perused the gashes opening in her skin – the man had inflicted much more damage than she had initially anticipated.

Furious, lacerated by what seemed to be a hundred blades, Monet yelled – and realized that it caused another wound to splay. The flesh got torn apart somewhere in her stomach and sent an impetus to the lungs prompting another incision to dehisce. The blood spurted up and flushed out from her mouth, staining the green shirt. Coughing, gagging, and covering her lips with a defective wing that had also been slit and now painted vermillion, the Harpy leaned over a gigantic machine with a red button on its panel. Half-conscious, she stared at it – it certainly was a way out. If she pushes it, the whole island will go up in flames. Nobody survived, case closed. Nobody discovers the dirty scheme Vergo had initiated in the Marine to abduct kids; nobody learns about the dubious experiments of the ambiguous nature performed by Caesar. Nobody connects Young Master – her Young Master – to the helter-skelter in the lab, nobody–

Her consciousness drifted away; small lacerations proved to be even worse than the deeper ones – blood didn’t stop from dripping, and she couldn’t control the amount she had lost. Falling to the ground, quivering, Monet twitched her wings in a fruitless attempt to maintain balance. It was overkill, anyway, at least she deemed so. Her wounds were fatal; she very well understood that she was a goner – but it was still in her power to prevent future events from happening.

Suddenly, Monet heard the quiet mumbling of a snail. Caesar, concerned about Joker’s supervision and unremitting control (the notion he strongly believed but which wasn’t true to the fact: Doflamingo, after Monet’s infiltration, called every once in a while, just to give the man heebie-jeebies, in case he felt lazy), installed snails everywhere, each equipped with a unique number. Only Joker could have access to them – no one else would be able to call here, the sanctum sanctorum of the lab.

The injured wing reached for the receiver, then twitched and fell. Trembling, the Harpy moaned in agony, choked on the blood, and made a feeble attempt to get up. Didn’t work; her face contorted in pure anguish. Invincible, trained, fortified by a number of experiments conducted under Doflamingo’s supervision, she never expected a failure. Especially a failure like this.

The snail kept grumbling, Monet whimpered; struggling to stand up, the Harpy felt a million needles skewering into her body, avulsing the thinnest and the tiniest blood vessels. She had to be slow not to disturb the veins that still remained intact. Making a superhuman effort, Monet propped herself up, her chest heaving, her wings jittered ever so slightly.  Panting, leaning over the tremendous apparatus towering over her, the Harpy managed to answer the call.

“Monet?” called a low, mellifluous voice coming from a snail. “Monet, do you read?”

“Yes, Young Master,” she mustered her shattered self to respond.

“I do not have the slightest idea what is happening right now,” he drawled pensively, “But it is certainly far from the plan I have drawn up.”

“They– they snatched Caesar.”

Doflamingo paused, pondering over her words. That loudmouth fool, calling himself a genius, failed to kick the teenager’s ass and let himself get captured by a bunch of mere kids playing real pirates. It had been funny to hear that that Strawhat Luffy defeated Sir Crocodile, one of the most feared and infamous warlords; after all, Doflamingo shook hands with the man and knew exactly what his weaknesses were, but Caesar Clown was another thing. First off, he claimed himself to be a brilliant scientist, and, in fact, he had managed to synthesize a drug that made children comparable to giants in force and probably in size. Furthermore, he used his earlier formulae and calculations, retrieved the readouts of the past experiments to create artificial Devil Fruits. So, he clearly was not a complete idiot. However, he employed none of his ingenious tricks to kill the annoying brat on sight when he had the opportunity.  Too bad the factory couldn’t work without his involvement – otherwise, Doflamingo himself would’ve got disposed of Caesar as well.

“Monet,” he finally spoke, his voice dropping down a notch. “You were loyal to me.”

“Till the end, Young Master,” she muttered, her voice not louder than a susurrus of wind.

“Die for me.” He commanded coolly, his eyes staring into space unwinkingly. “Monet, die for me and send this place to hell. Take them all along with you.”

“Yes, Young Master. I will do as you please.”

Her lips, covered with blood and gore, stretched in a gentle smile addressed to no one in particular. He cared about her. He wanted her to perform this last task for him, in the name of his future achievements and accomplishments, and she would not let him down.

She raised her wing, slightly quavering, preparing to hit the red button. Exuding a quiet hum, the Harpy lowered it – and gasped, immediately falling onto the ground with a loud, heavy thump.

“Monet?.. Monet, what’s happened? Monet, can you hear me?..”

She uttered a wheezing sound, and her visage froze in a rictus of death.

[collectionofcherries]

👀 i see that you take requests for Billy Loomis from Scream and i am here for that. How about some intense fluff (lol)? maybe what a day spent with his s/o would be like?? could devolve into steamy if you want 👀

Honestly everyone should be here for Billy Loomis. Everyone’s favourite greasy rat boy. ---

Pronouns: Unmentioned however this is written Female!Reader centric and contains feminine words like giggle and association with other women. Warnings: Kissing, fluff, light mention of murder, a literal sprinkle of angst, nothing out of the norm for a Slasher centric fic. Again I think I'm funny so that's a warning. Word Count: 2,226 ---

   “You know one of these days I'm gonna get a lock for that window and force you to use the door.” You remark loudly as you hear it slide open.    You don't even need to move from laying face down in your bed to know it's Billy, who else comes in through a window? “I thought it was romantic you know that whole Romeo and Juliet thing, there's a window somewhere in there, right?”    You can't help but to laugh and turn your head to look at him. “Are you talking about 'what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun'?” You asked.    “Sure.” He says as he plops down on the bed beside you. “Romantic right?” He teases arching a brow at you.    “Funny enough I don't think Romeo was talking about breaking and entering.” You remark.    “He broke into Juliet's place, didn't he?”    “You'd know if you didn't sleep in English class.”    “What do I need to be awake for? I speak it.”    You roll your eyes to spite your smile. “How about we skip the romantic lessons that ended up with two people dead?” You pitch.    He shrugs a little, his eyes looking around the room before settling on you. “Death can be romantic, what's so wrong with that?” He weighs in.    “I thought you liked horror not romance.” You point out as you roll yourself over onto your back. “Unless you're trying to tell me you wanna watch the Titanic instead of IT?” You tease.    He rolls his eyes at you but you can see the corners of his mouth are turned up. “We're watching IT?” He remarks.    “Yes because if I have to watch The Exorcist one more time I'm going to start puking.” You say pointedly, you love him but you can't keep watching that movie.    He lets out a scoff. “Maybe I was wrong about you liking romance seems like you're going for drama.”    You shove his shoulder and he grabs the hand you use to do so. “I thought you'd love IT, it's got your two favourite things” You point out and he arches a brow at you skeptically as he laces his fingers with your own. “Murder and clowns.” You insist.    “Clowns?”    “You're best friends with Stu, you have to love clowns.” You giggle sticking your tongue out in glee at your own joke.    “Yeah we'll stick with horror you're not great with comedy.” He says rolling his eyes.    Before you have a chance to insist you're hilarious cause you are he leans down and kisses you, guess you'll have to make a point of how funny you are later. And judging by the heat of his kisses he's hoping for much later. Billy's kisses are deep, to spite his standoff-ish nature he practically shatters bones with how close he wants to be to you in times of intimacy but even with his desperate need to lose himself in it he relishes every moment and takes his time, never in a rush, hands never too grabby as they explore you, if you let him he'll take his time for hours. But your body seems to have a different idea as to what it should be filled with as your stomach breaks the sizzling silence with a loud growl that makes you both laugh a little. “Maybe horror is what we should stick with.” You pant out.    Earning a breathy chuckle from him. "No arguments from me, long as it's rated R.”    If he wasn't so pretty above you, you'd roll your eyes. But he is so pretty. Brown hair coming down in shiny if not a little greasy strands that frame his face, warm brown eyes turned up at the corners from his smile, Billy is just...warm, everything about him is warm, especially the way he practically melts into the hand you bring up to cradle his face. “Sounds like you're trying to get out of my movie pick.” You point out, jokingly pouting out your bottom lip.    “I did bring Psycho.” He offers.    He's not pretty enough to stop that eye roll. “We've watched Psycho like a dozen times now.”    “Yeah, we know it so well we don't have to pay attention.” He points out running his tongue across his teeth and looking you over to get his point across.    “If you wanna get it, you're gonna have to watch IT.” You decide.    He sighs but his smile doesn't leave his face. “Alright, alright, we'll watch your

clown movie.”     He sits up and you follow halfway, letting go of his hand to drag yourself up to lean back on your elbows. “I thought you were gonna bring pizza this week, I brought it last week.” You point out as you realize he's empty handed.    Your stomach certainly seems to notice as it lets out another squelch. “You didn't hear?”    “Hear what?”    “Pizza place closed down, one of the workers in there got murdered.” He said his words dragging out slowly.    “Did they say who? When'd this happen?” You ask as shock rocketed through you, you were there literally last week!    “News said it was that Alex kid” And it seemed to spite his death Billy still had distain in his voice for him. “You know the one.” And you just nodded as you took that in, Alex had been working there as long as you'd been going. “He had it coming.”    “What?” Was all that made it out of you.    “He had it coming.” He said again this time looking right at you. “That kid was creep, the way he looked at you, the shit he said.” He pointed out, this wasn't the first time Billy had gotten angry about Alex or any other guy that flirted with you for that matter but Alex always made his blood boil and if you thought about it-...if you were being fair, he made you mad too, he just never knew when enough was enough. “You know I'm right, you can't tell me I'm not.”    You took what felt like a painful breath as you tried to think of what to say back, words started to form but they never finished as your brain grappled with the idea of Alex's death. “Did they say what happened?” Finally came out.    Maybe some other girl had just had enough, maybe it'd been quick...maybe then it wouldn't seem so bad. “Gutted like the pig he was.” So much for it not seeming so bad. "Happened when he was closing down, idiot left the back door open...I mean what'd he expect to happen?” He scoffed shaking his head. “Wasn't much of a fight, pretty quick...bloody though.” He said his eyes slipping from you to roam around, not particularly focused on anything. “Couldn't tell the difference from all that blood and the marinara sauce.” A quiet chuckle making it's way out of him at the end. “Found bits of him in the oven too.”    “That was all on the news?” You breathed out, the words leaving your mouth without your permission.    But the question hung in the air for what felt like too long, Billy's eyes not meeting yours for too long. “Uh-huh.” Finally made it's way out of him as he chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment. “You know how Gale Weathers reports, that bitch loves those details.”     You nod but there's an uncomfortableness that sits in your chest that you're desperate to get away from. “Chinese it is then tonight huh?” You try to tease.    “So, you're not too sad about the Pizza place shutting down?” He asks finally looking over at you.    Out of all the things to be concerned about...but that was real concern in Billy's eyes. “It's probably for the best...I mean even if it opened up again I don't know if I could eat there again knowing about the...pizza sauce.” You said swallowing hard at the end trying your best not to picture it.    “They could rename it Hannibal Lecter's Pizza Place.” He pitched smiling at you.    Your gag is half real as you sit up fully. “Yeah, remember how I said I'm not gonna read that book? Well I'm really not gonna read it now.” You say making a disgusted face at him.    “You'd like it, Clarice makes me think of you.”     You maul over that, it's not a bad thing to be compared to Jodie Foster but not knowing the context you weren't sure how to feel. “I don't know exactly what that means but I'll take it as you saying I'm as hot as Jodie Foster and not that you're gonna eat me.”     “He doesn't eat Jodie Foster.” He points out rolling his eyes at you.    “Oh good.”    “You know one of the only reasons he even talks to her is cause one of the other guys in the nut house flicks cum at her.” Maybe it was a good thing you hadn't eaten cause another gag made it's way out of you. “And he finds it really fuckin'

rude...he doesn't say it but I think he would've killed him if he had the chance.” He says nodding a little to himself. “I would've.” He adds shrugging and before you can even really take that in he's talking again. “Anyway, the story is kinda about getting under someone's skin, understanding the way they think...the way they are...no one really does that besides Clarice you know? She understands him, she's horrified but she understands him.” And his eyes found yours once again, they're intense to spite his seemingly relaxed posture. “She makes me think of you because you get me.”    How could something so sweet come across so dark? A smile makes it's way across your lips to spite your confusion...you do get Billy, you know him, you love him. These weird horror movie references are just how he gets by in the world and comes to understand himself...how you’ve come to understand him and this is no different. You're convinced you're thinking way too much over what he's saying, he's just trying to talk to you in his own way. Yeah that's it. The breath that was painfully sitting in your chest escapes you and you reach over to hold his hand again and you realize the intense look in his eyes isn't something that should scare you, it's familiar, you've seen it before it's just the way he looks when he's yearning for physical intimacy and now it's melted into the same warm look you know so well. “I'm still not gonna read it...but next week it is your turn to pick a movie.” You point out. “Can't stop you from bringing it over.”     He smiles and you can't help but to smile back at him, he raises his free hand to cradle your face and this time its your turn to melt into his palm as he leans in and kisses you. Whatever worry you had is drowned out by the taste of love on his lips. “You're not gonna leave me too right? You can't...you're the only one who understands.” It sounds needy as it's said between kisses.    You know what he means, it's something that's been brought up before, all his anger and resentment for his mother leaving seemingly out of the blue makes him unsure of so much. It's not often he needs reminding that you're not going anywhere but every time he does it breaks your heart to hear all the desperation in his voice. “I'm not going anywhere.” You promise.    This usually leads to sex that leaves you both almost physically unable to go anywhere and as clothes are starting to be fisted off, your stomach once again decides it too has desperation its desperation to eat! And once again you both pull back to laugh. “I might go into the living room to use the phone to call for Chinese.” You half tease.    He chuckles as he rolls off of you. “Guess that's alright.” He teases back.    You both lay there for a moment trying to catch your breath and find the energy to leave this bed but the odds stack even further against you as you feel his thumb smooth over the top of your hand that he's still holding. “You know I think I can hear Stu crying.” You joke making Billy look at you like you've got 5 heads. “I'm the only one who understands you? I mean he's gotta be crying.” You clear.    He laughs shaking his head. “Yeah, comedy isn't for you.” He reminds.    “You're wrong and saying so has cost you your egg roll.” You decide and he looks at you with a look that can only be describes as 'really?' “Stu finds me funny, maybe I'll order him an egg roll.” You point out as you get up.    “Stu finding you funny doesn't mean anything, Stu thinks he's hysterical.” He scoffs    “Well, he is hysterical.” You scoff back at him. “Now tell me I'm funny or I'm taking away your dumplings next.”     “I'd kill you for that.” He says looking at you smiling a little. “So...be careful, your life could be in my hands.”     “Yeah well your Chinese Food is in my hands.” You teasingly threaten back putting your hands on your hips.    His smile broadens. “That was kinda funny.”  --- ~Admin Coral🍒 Buy Me A Coffee?

[jacks-jester]

My Love.

[Phoenix! Joker x Reader] angsty but ends with fluff

Words: 3,193

Warnings: Angsty, abandonment trauma, sexual harassment, mentions of murder, mentions of attempted sexual assault/rape. (This is a pretty heavy piece, nothing super explicit though)

Summary: After three years, you run into the man you had abandoned all those years ago. He was never the Joker to you though, to you he was always Arthur- your love, your one and only. What happens when he reunites with you for the first time post killing Murray? What happens when it seems the person you left has disappeared.

A/N~ This took me literally all day to type up, I kept revising it and fixing it up. I think I portrayed Arthur a bit better but still would like to work on him more, I feel I can do better in the future. Once again, Requests are open for fics/drabbles/hcs. Any constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.

It had been three years since you had last spoken to Arthur, three years since you two had slept together, three years since you had left him. It was no secret that the two of you had your fair share of mental issues, but maybe that's what had balanced you two out so well. You both understood each other, truly saw one another, when either one of you had an episode or a fit, the other would know the perfect way to calm the situation down. However, there were downsides to Arthur and your relationship. The main issue though, was both of your shared insecurities. The two of you both thought you weren’t worthy of one another, though you would both combat each others thought constantly.

It was painful leaving him, but you had done it and the second it was done, you couldn’t find the guts to go back. You and Arthur had been neighbors for years, the two of you always sharing light conversations in the elevator, eventually the light conversation grew into a friendship, and soon after a relationship. You are Arthur had always been a match made in heaven, always being there for each other and ensuring the other was supported at all times. He was the only person you felt who truly saw you, and likewise to him - some things are just too good to last you always told yourself.

You had left shortly after your 2 year anniversary, after a night spent in each others arms, the two of you staying up until you were exhausted, relishing in the feeling of each others bodies. Arthur always had a habit of falling asleep after making love, always seeming most at ease in the moments afterwards. You figured it was due to the fact he felt content, secure, and cared for in those moments - his deepest insecurities buried away temporarily. It was that night as you stayed awake, fingers gently combing through his brown hair that you truly took him in. He was perfection in every sense of the words - his hair soft and fluffy to the touch, his cheeks hollowed out which only made his jaw and cheekbones that much more chiseled, he was skinny - to a point some might be scared of his form, but to you he was absolute artwork, every nook and cranny etched in your mind, his emerald eyes were always full of love and admiration when he looked at you no matter how difficult the day had been. Your favorite thing about him though was his carefree laugh, his real ones, not the kind the racked his body, his throat closing as the cackles were forced out due to discomfort.

In that moment your insecurities rang in your head on repeat, unable to tear your gaze from the man you loved so deeply. He was everything someone could ask for, and you had no doubt he was the only person out there for you, the only person who would ever understand you, the only person in the entirety of this wretched world that would love you unconditionally. He always had such a big heart, and you knew from the moment you had first seen him that he was the one for you. Deep in your subconscious though, your monsters whispered venom into your mind. 

‘He’s too good for you. You could never give him what he deserve. He’s only settled for you, and now you’re holding him back from what he deserves. He could find someone so much better than you, you’re suffocating him from that opportunity. You’re not his one, even if you wish you could be.’

Your illness had won that night, tearing you away from your home, from happiness, from him. You didn’t spare a second glance as you packed a few of your personal belongings in one of his work duffel bags, pushing a decent amount of cash into the bag, left your key on the counter, and left with not so much as a note. You had taken the first bus out of town, trying your best to settle a life outside of Gotham, as far from him as possible. You never dated anyone else, unable to find attraction or comfort in anyone but him - always comparing the people you met to him. You found yourself worse off than when you left, but hoped he would find someone better for him. There were several times you had to force yourself to not run back - too ashamed of what he might think, even more scared you’d find him with a new life, despite the fact that it was what you had wanted in the first place.

Three years had passed, scrounging for money, trying to find work, attempting to find some remnants of the happiness you had felt before you’d left. By a sick twist of fate, you had found yourself back in Gotham - Gotham being the only place you could find decent work. A week. That's all it took for you to regret taking the job. You were working as a bank teller, your boss was an absolute pompous snob, your coworkers were perverted, and the customers were absolutely horrific. You bared with it though, knowing this was one of your last real opportunities for a steady job. The entirety of Gotham drained your energy completely when you lived here; so in an attempt to maintain some of your sanity and positivity, you avoided the news at all cost. In Gotham, the news brought nothing but negative things to dampen anyone's day.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

It was another lousy day at work, dealing with customers who were idiots, dealing with groping and harassment from your coworkers, your boss seeming to constantly look for an excuse to fire you. You were nearing the end of your shift when it happened, protestors had moved up the city after being confronted with police aggression downtown. These weren’t the peaceful type though, these were the kind hell bent on causing as much chaos and damage as possible. A good part of you sided with them, understanding their outrage at the unfair treatment towards the less unfortunate of Gotham, towards the kind of people you and Arthur were. Even now, you had to forge documents to get your job, knowing any sign of mental illness would immediately erase any chance you had at securing a job.

You watched as people in clown masks flooded the streets as night began to fall, the glass doors of the bank allowing you a full view of the riots. Cars were set aflame, a few more confrontational protestors smashing the glass of the bank doors and windows, the city was screaming. The anguish and anger radiated off the mob like wildfire, their shouting echoing through the streets outside the bank. You knew it was only a matter of time until they would begin robbing the bank, hoarding the money they could secure. You opted to leave the second you shift ended, wanting to keep as far away from the damage as possible, just go home and sleep. 

You secured a few of your belongings, tossing your bag over your shoulder as you headed out the backdoor, sparing a last glance at the building crowd. You let out a sigh as you began walking away from large white building, knowing it was fastest to take the back alleys to get to the buses. The alleys were smothered in fog and smoke, the moldy air clinging to your lungs with each breath your took in, you hated it here. You had nearly reached the end of the alleys when you were harshly grabbed by the arm, thrown against a wall soon afterwards. Your head buzzed as you tried to ground yourself, your eyes clenched shut as your pulse frenzied, anxiety quickly beginning to overtake you. 

Upon opening your eyes, you were met with the figures of three men in clown masks, their statures towering over you. You knew this wasn’t going to end well for you, that was one thing Arthur had always worried about - there were too many stories of girls being found dead in alleyways after a mishap walking home. You watched them closely, the middle one of the three holding a knife out towards you, the blade less than a foot from your face. You could hear their deranged laughter, giddy at the sight of you so helpless as your eyes flicked around wildly, like a animal cornered by predators, aware of the fact you were prey. They were like hyenas, stalking the meat they so desperately craved, knowing nobody would bat an eye if you were to turn up dead the next morning, knowing they could easily get away with it with no repercussions in sight.

You let out a muffled scream as one of them clapped a hand over your mouth, the other two making their way towards you, hands already reaching out to strip you of your clothes. You pinched your eyes shut, preparing for what you knew was coming, knowing nobody was around to help, knowing you had nobody who would mourn you. While your eyes were clenched shut you couldn’t help but try to ground yourself from the onslaught of panic, trying to think of happy things - though only one thing came to mind. Arthur. Not a day had gone by that you didn’t miss his company, longed to hear his laugh and feel his arms around you, wished for the way he’d look at you, actually seeing you with unprecedented love and admiration. Artie. 

While your cries were muffled and salty tears poured down your face, you and your attackers had failed to notice a presence approaching the four of you. You jolted as three gunshots rang out, the bangs resonating off the narrow alley walls. Your ears rang due to the close proximity of the gunfire, the touch you had been dreading never coming, instead you could hear bodies falling to the ground with sickening thuds, the hand over your mouth immediately releasing as another thud sounded from beside you. You didn’t dare open your eyes as tears continued to pour down your cheeks, streamlines running down your paled face. 

You jumped lightly as the new intruder gently kicked your foot in order to get you to look at them, upon opening your eyes you were greeted with a white handkerchief. You had yet to look at your protector, grabbing the handkerchief with a choked out thank you. While drying your tears, you were greeted with the familiar scent of cigarette smoke, coming from the person directly in front of you. He wasn’t what you’d pictured he’d look like. He had emerald green hair, a crimson suit which comfortably hugged his body, a green nearly teal button up, and a mustard vest. He stood comfortably, one hand tucked in his pants pocket while the other held a cigarette between his lips, the pale alley light casting an ethereal glow around him.

After a moment of looking away, he turned to face you, a hand going out to help you up. He didn’t say anything in that moment, simply beckoning for you to stand. Due to the dim lighting and the fact your were shrouded in darkness, you were surprised he had hit his targets and not accidentally hit you. You doubted he could see who you were in the darkness, you hand shakily grabbed his as you made your way to stand in front of him. You released his hand the moment you were up, tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear as you tried to compose yourself. “Thank you.” You were frozen the moment you looked up to thank him, your eyes meeting his own.

There's no way this could be real, you could feel rushed panic closing up your throat, your airways denying you air as the realization of who was standing in front of you hit you. You could see the glimmer of recognition cross his eyes, though his face as a whole remained unphased. You always could read him, even if he remained stoic. “A-Arthur?” You could see his eyes shift slightly as if he had something to say but swallowed it, “Go catch your bus.” He murmured it loud enough for you to hear before turning on his heel to leave you behind in the alleyway, the same way you did to him all those years ago - without a second glance. 

You couldn’t stop yourself as you rushed forward to grab his wrist, “W-wait! Please. I just... I need...” He stopped walking, not turning to face you as his body tensed under your touch. You let out a small hum, your mind reeling as you attempted to find the words you so desperately wanted to say. You needed to know that he was happy, that's all you needed to move on with your life. “I-... Please just tell me you’re alright. That you’re happy, that you’ve found someone deserving of you.” A dry laugh escaped his lips at your words. “Everything is absolutely peachy. Haven’t you seen it? The cities burning and I’m a high class criminal.” His sarcasm rang through the air, your eyes bubbling with tears at the familiar feeling of his skin on yours. You lowered your head downwards as emotions and anxiety coursed through your veins, overtaking your mind. “I’m so, so sorry Artie.”

You could feel him tense at the use of the nickname, his tendons bulging in his wrist, his fist subconsciously clenching in response. You could feel the sick feeling of bile rising in your stomach as an onslaught of words poured out of your mouth all at once. “I didn’t want to hurt you, you deserve everything this world has to offer and I couldn’t and can’t offer you that. You need someone who isn't a wreck, someone with a solid job, a nice place, someone who is deserving of your love. That person isn’t me, even if I’d like it to be. I thought it would be best if I just disappeared, gave you the freedom to find the happiness and life you deserve.” 

You were surprised when he whipped around his own chin shaking with emotion, although your weren’t sure if it was sadness, anger, resentment, maybe a combination of the three. His voice came out low at first, gradually raising in volume as his emotions climbed. “You don’t get to be sorry. I’d be happy if it weren’t for what you did, none of this would have happened.” Deep inside him, Arthur knew it wasn’t true but he couldn’t help it as confusing rage bubbled inside him. Never in the 2 years of being with Arthur, did you ever see him angry, he never raised his voice, and even when he was upset he put on a happy face for your sake, never wanting to worry you or hurt you unintentionally.

You could feel yourself breaking down at his words, the tone of his voice successfully slicing through you like the stroke of a hot knife on butter. “I thought I was helping you by cutting you off. I’m not worth your time or affections, I never have been. You deserve so much more than what I can give you Arthur. Believe me when I say I love you more than life itself Arthur but I couldn’t be the one who held you back from finding someone who deserves you.” You looked  up to him, his eyes catching yours as you both remained silent, the tension between you two thick enough to cut through.  You couldn’t say you were surprised when his hand gently shook you off, retreating to his side. You watched closely as his green eyes met yours, and for the first time you couldn’t tell what he was thinking, several emotions flicking across his gaze faster than you could register.

You watched as he raised his hand slowly towards you, his hand hesitating before landing on your cheek. It was strange, you’d seen the photos of this man standing before you, heard small talk of the “Joker”, he had a terrifying reputation among the elite you were surrounded by at the bank. Yet still, this was your Arthur. Sure his appearance changed, he was more bold, but just the way his eyes shone showed that he was in fact the same man you remembered. He still held the soft gaze you were so familiar with, even in his upset state. You didn’t blame him, you could only imagine what your reaction would be if the roles were reversed. You’d be heartbroken, unsure what to do with your life - though you supposed you were heartbroken when you left and didn’t know what you were doing with your life even in the present.

His touch was enough to calm the onslaught of tears that rushed down your face, relaxing as you thought about the care he maintained as his thumb gently brushed away the spare tears. “Is that really why you left?” His eyes bore into you, searching desperately for an answer as his uncertainty came through in his tone. You furrowed your eyebrows as his eyes stayed in contact with yours, confusion flashing through your eyes. “Of course it is, why else would I leave? You were the only positive thing I had going for me, I wouldn’t mindlessly throw something so precious to me to the side.” You watched as the ghost of a smile quirked at the edges of his lips, forming the small smile you’d seen so many times while watching Murray with him late at night.

Without another word his face came down to meet yours, his hand gripping your jaw tightly as his lips melded against yours. Instinctually your eyes closed, your hands coming to rest against his lean chest as he pulled you closer to him. His scent flooded your senses, the smell of cigarettes, cheap cologne, clothing detergent, and a new foreign smell, the faintest scent of gunpowder lingered on his clothing. His lips were perfectly suited to yours as the kissed deepened, this new Arthur being bolder than the one you’d left behind, his tonguing sipping into your mouth as he spread his red greasepaint across you lips.

You pulled away only to catch your breath, your hands not leaving his chest as he opened his eyes slowly, the green of his eyes gleaming in the dim alley lighting. “ Artie I can’t, you have to under-” He cut you off, pressing his finger to your lips. “That's is for me to decide doll, I need you beside me, not anyone else. You are my one and only, if you want me to be happy, then come home.” You looked up at him with confliction in your eyes but you knew your mind was made up the moment you caught a glimpse of Arthur and his adoration for you within his emerald pools. So you spoke 3 simple words, your heart swelling as you took in the beautiful man before you, the man you’d missed for three years, your love and happiness.

“Okay my love.”

[rockethorse]

Kopper Legacy Generation 3 HEIR POLL!

Since all three members of Generation 3 have reached adulthood, it’s time to let them argue their case! I’ve decided to cut the middle man and just host the debate here on Tumblr. VOTE LINK BELOW!

In chronological order, eldest child Solara Kopper has the floor. Solara?

Solara: Listen. We all know I’m the best choice for heir, and by Watcher, haven’t I earned it? I’m practically there already. I have an extremely achievable LTW, a triple-bolt fiancé lined up and ready to start on the fourth generation, and I’m planning on working myself into an early grave you won’t have to put up with me after I stop being interesting.

Solara: Imagine for a moment you do err and vote for one of my sisters. Who? The utterly forgettable Evara whose most interesting trait is the day of the year she happened to be born on? Lunara, whose irresponsibility and ineptitude lead to the untimely death of an innocent mail carrier? Do you trust either of these women with YOUR entertainment?

Solara: And I know what you’re thinking; “Isn’t this an awful like Aunt Erika’s platform when she campaigned for heir? Didn’t she LOSE that candidacy?” And that’s where you’re wrong. I will NEVER lose where Aunt Erika failed because I am so much better than her in every way. I know it’s drama you really want from a Legacy, you insatiable clowns, but did she really think a few torrid affairs would be enough to feed you? HAH! My drama will include, but not be limited to, throwing hands with anyone who crosses me, and I am extremely easy to cross. I WILL rain terror down on these fools with my surprisingly small yet precise fists. Just ask Lunara. She’ll tell you. I rest my case.

A... terrifying but assuredly sincere campaign from Solara which seems to pivot entirely on threats of bodily harm? Interesting strategy.

Speaking of Lunara, the middlest middle child to ever middle now has the floor.

Lunara: R-right! Thank you, Watcher. Um, first, I would just like to clarify that I definitely did not kill anybody, ever, and any postal service workers who may or may not have died have absolutely no relation to me! I’m sure it’s a terrible tragedy, but I really couldn’t be considered accountable! At all! I certainly don’t feel unfathomable guilt from the burden of a Sim’s life in my hands! Thank you.

... Is that your whole speech?

Lunara: OH! Right! Ahem. Uh, I believe that, firmly believe, that I would, um, be the best Heir, because, um, I will be the most interesting choice, because a lot of my decisions have very interesting outcomes, and I would for sure make the prettiest babies, because look at me.

Lunara: Do- I ask you, viewers at home, do you want to see someone win every fight? Or do you love to watch people lose? Because I know how to make losing look good. I know you don’t tune in to every update to read about how much money we’ve earned or how many points we get. You want to see us SUFFER, and I have a lot of experience in that field. Just ask Solara. Okay, thanks! And again, Not A Murderer!

Not the first time we’ve heard this platform before, but it’s definitely never been truer. Evara?

Evara: ...

... Evara? Are you going to load up your presentation?

Evara: Hm? Wait, you really expected me to make one? What for?

... To... try and convince the readers to vote for you...?

Evara: But you see... I don’t need to. I already know they will.

Evara: Let’s face it; I’m the best choice- no, the ONLY choice, and everyone else knows it, too. I’m a [checks writing on hand] Farnily Sim, so I’ll make a great mother, why not. To children who will all have the chance to inherit these stunning cheekbones (notice how I pose at a thoughtful angle). And my one Nice Point combined with maximum Playfulness ensures there will be no end to the drama I can unfold. I have no ethics, meaning the viewer doesn’t need to feel sympathy for me in the unlikely event some tragedy should befall me, so whether I fail or succeed my life should provide equally stimulating.

Evara: I promise to usher in an era of such bourgeois opulence even by this family’s standards that it will inspire awe, envy, and hate. Come, peasants! Live vicariously through me and relish the possibility of my failure! Also I make a very good mac ‘n’ cheese if anyone’s hungry.

She doesn’t. But a rousing speech!

That’s it! All three Gen 3 candidates have spoken their piece, and now you must decide who to vote for! Remember, in addition to being the one to usher in Generation 4 and inherit the Kopper Legacy, the winning candidate will renovate the Kopper mansion in their own image. Cuprum will also get a makeover per the winner’s tastes.

But you can vote for whoever you like! Vote based on aesthetic, vote based on these speeches, vote by clicking randomly with wild abandon. The poll will stay open until I finish the next update (whenever that may be) so have fun!

(Also, if you’d like a quick refresher to compare their stats, here are their trading cards: Solara Kopper | Lunara Kopper | Evara Kopper)

VOTE BELOW!

https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/PN6T965

[toomanyf4ndoms7]

Needles Kane

as always, italics are thoughts.

second last chapter. hope you enjoy.

Killer. Heartless. Psychopath. Monster.

Needles Kane had heard it all before. From victims to the Asylum staff, even to fellow inmates he was despised.

And he relished it. Well, the heartless part is a lie. I’ve taken plenty of hearts. Out of the chest.

He had killed thousands of people, with no limits as to who. Sometimes it was a child lured into the ice cream van. Sometimes it was a man who took a wrong turn down the street, a few times it was a woman who thought he was the fun kind of clown. There’s been a few thugs or people who got in his way.

It’s incredible how fast people beg when you pull a knife out. The killing made him happy, and isn’t that what life was all about?

But there was one thing that distracted him from the urge to choke someone out. It wasn’t the walls, the guards or the restraints. The last one was a bit of a problem though.

It was the flames on his head. On the day he was caught and put to the death penalty, there was a preacher.

I thought he was just some holier than thou asshole, but he had a creative addition to the chair.

The preacher asked God to curse Needles with the flames of hell for all eternity. That translated to having Needles’s scalp being set ablaze. It had been three months since that day and the flames still burned.

When I get out of here, I’d prefer being able to touch my scalp without burning my hand.

Needles returned to silence, thinking of what his first kill should be when he gets out. Maybe I’ll go back to the Ice Cream Van idea, that always brought results. Ooh, I can hear it now, the squeals from the children, the dripping from the cuts- “Mr. Kane?” A visitor? That’s new. “May I come in?” “If you want your neck broken.” Despite the threat, the door still opened, with a bald man with a black glass eye in a therapist uniform. “My name is Mr. Sparks.” “I didn’t ask.” “The Asylum considers you a lost cause.” “They’re right. What do I have to feel bad about anyway?”

Shrugging, the man seemed insincere as he gave his answer.

“Perhaps the thousand lives you’ve taken?” Feigning regret, Needles responded. “Oh, yes the poor, sweet children. Taken away by the evil clown. I should have bumped up the number to two thousand. But I guess one thousand is still a fun milestone.”

“How does the burning feel?” Sneering, Needles walked closer. “Why don’t you put your face in and try it out?”

The man was undeterred by the threat and even seemed amused at the prospect. “I’d much rather observe the effects myself.” I like this guy.

“You wish to leave, don’t you?” “Who wouldn’t?” “You also wish your curse to end.” Glaring at the man, Needles grunted in agreement. “Could you not ask the preacher? I believe he is in this asylum.”

“He’d probably refuse to disobey God’s plan. Whatever that means. I’d prefer a more… bearable alternative.” Silence reigned between the pair before Mr. Sparks spoke once more. “One more question.” “What?” “Have you ever heard of a contest called Twisted Metal?” Running through memories in his head, Needles came at an answer.

“I’ve heard of it. Demolition derby. I thought about joining but crashing cars or shooting missiles doesn’t compare to slitting a throat.” “I think you’d be a good fit.”

As the man turned to leave, he offered one piece of advice. “If I recall, the prize for winning Twisted Metal is a single wish. Anything at all can be granted.” Closing the door behind him, Mr. Sparks left Needles to his thoughts.

A wish, eh? And all I’d have to do is kill people? Sounds like fun.

[bugaboowritings]

Punk!Marinette - A Short Drabble-

Marinette Helps Adrien out of a Tree

 I have been going down holes as I avoid spoilers. Even found my unfinished writing about Punk! Marinette just had to polish it up. Inspired from art under the punk Marinette tag and @musicfeedsmysoul12 who wrote some things on this au. 

Also I’m slowly posting my work at ao3 to make it easier to find, my username is bugaboo0scrambles for anyone interested. 

Marinette clicked her tongue with satisfaction. Admiring her work with her mirror. With years and years of practice, applying winged eyeliner still seems like a game of Russian roulette. Going perfectly amazing or making her say “screw it” before giving herself a smoky eye to cover it up the ‘step-sisters’ she painted on her lids. Yet, it was a part of her routine, something she kept since that summer ago spent watching strangers talk about products and brushes.

The laces on her boots drew out the gap between leather and skin as if it was a long sign. Marinette tugged on her laces tighter before reaching a fixed level of security. Fitting in like a second skin. Her hand smoothed over her slick new shoes, relishing its aesthetic allure and not helping the snicker that came up her throat. The heels on this pair were a whopping 3 and a half inches. Nothing major compared to the other shoes on display in the market, but it was enough to give her the needed height to make her a pinch taller then Alya.

With that, she carefully went down the stairs. Watching her step as she got comfortable to the new height. Accepting her death only twice while she barely caught herself from tumbling down the stairs.

Stuffing the long laces into the inside of her boots before making it out of the backdoor of the house. Her hand on the doorknob, other on her hip. Calling out to her parent goodbye as the front of the bakery buzzed with customers.

Nibbled on her maroon-stained lips before checking the trash can. Emptying it to before her parents forgot about it.  

The fresh air outside was mixed with the sounds of cars and that horrible unidentifiable “alley smog” rushing to her head. Pushing the plastic bag out the doorway and into the alley. Stepping out before her dad escaped the customers to plot a kiss on her daughter’s head. His beard carried traces of flour while his apron was clean except the splash of fruit-filling by his knee. Wishing Marinette good luck at school before he rushed to get more ingredients as her mother yelled from the front to take care.

Marinette lightly swept her bangs to get rid of her father’s messy, flour kiss. All while her nose crinkled at the smell of day-old eggshells and butter wrappers. Holding her breath and feeling her wrist twist as she opened the dumpster to throw in the trash. Not helping the gag that came up as the garbage smelt of sun-baked vomit cookies. Letting go of the metal lid causing it to slam shut. If her caffeinated tea didn’t wake her up, then that harsh sound did. Even scaring off the black cat that slept peacefully before screeching off into the street.

-----

“How lame.” Chloe scoffed. Rolling her head like a rag doll as she raised her sunnies from her clear-blue eyes. Her nails, done and polished, flicked the lone blonde strand over her ear.

“Nice shoes, Mari!” She yelled. Booming her voice through the quad. “Matches the whole clown suit too!”

Marinette flipped her off without even looking in her direction. Making her way to the other end of the school to meet up Alya. The one classmate that could manage a conversation with her without being intimidated.

Alya typed swiftly on her keyboard without bothering to look at the keys. A skill that Marinette envied and Alya swore to be like second nature after months of drafting sharp observations over comics, movies and Paris local heroes on her blogs. She sported the denim jacket Marinette decorated for her with patches and pins all with a khaki pleated skirt. Topping it off with her very own white-tee. Her new merch, a commission by Marinette, for her Ladyblog.  

“Alya.”

“Marinette.”

Marinette threw her bag under her before lifting her ankles to cross her legs. Rocking back and forth, waiting for the typing to slow down. Once it did, it reached a sudden stop.

Alya sighed and saved her work before tugging her bag on her lap. Sliding her laptop out of harm’s way.

“I got a new scoop last night.” Alya grinned. Relaxing into her seat. Crossing her glossy legs.

“You will never believe what I saw, girl!” Jumping on Marinette as stars lit up in her eyes. A quick transition from her blank expression earlier. Marinette, knowing where this was going, played dumb.

“Let me guess,” Mari hummed, narrowing her eyes at nothing in the distance. Only to get spooked when Alya shook her.

“AHH! I can’t wait! Just let me tell you!!”

Smirking at the journalist. Alya, as if her tongue was on fire, spit on her amazing story.

There she, in the middle of the night, getting a drink of water. Like how she always did when she was staying up late for an article. Only to hear a loud noise outside. Assuming it’s an Akuma before considering the idea of an earthquake happening in the middle of Europe or a plane crash. Incentively fishing for her phone to see the most amazing sight ever. The greatest thing to hit theaters in its time. The most inspiring and jaw-dropping things to ever live in black and white. The scaly, creepy Godzilla! Stomping out the streets of Paris in the dead of night. Apartments lights flicked on as the beast strolled through the street. Holding in its roars as it tossed its tail. Missing a building by a hair. With a “zip” and a “wow”, the Parian hero duo leaped neighborhoods and buildings. Chat Noir tossed his baton in the air, saving Ladybug by the fraction of second from being dino-chum as she twirled up into the air. Ladybug’s yo-yo looped around the monster swiftly with her momentum, tripping the beast toward the bottom of the Eiffel tower. With Chat Noir’s cataclysm ready, Ladybug called on her lucky charm and-  

“- and Agreste at 10.” Alya murmured. Watching Adrien come through the front door with Nino by his side. Laughing at each other as they look back to Nino’s phone. Marinette turned around, groaning- knowing this morning routine too well. Trying to make herself seem smaller as she pushed back her shoulders. Hoping to go under notice. Already feeling his lime-green eyes on her back.

“I’ll be hiding in a tree or at the art studio, whatever I reach first.” Already grieving the loss of a perfectly good morning. “Text me if you need me.”

“See ya.” Alya waved. Slumping back to the bench as Marinette rushed away in the opposite direction of Adrien.

-----

“Marinette!”

“Agreste.”

“Ah. . .Come here often?”

Marinette had to stop the snort that came up her throat. Being a second late as a small chuckle left her lips. Having to shut down her face to not give Adrien the fuel to keep going. Bring back that dull expression as she watched Adrien struggle a little bit more.

“I don’t usually come here, but if I do I’m not dangling out of trees.”

“Uh,” Agreste hummed. Unsure what to say as he felt the tingling of blood rushing to his head competed with the deep blush that appeared on his cheeks. Or maybe that was just the pain of his blood rushing to head. Yeah, maybe it was the blood rushing to his head. 

On the bright side, however, it made it harder to see if he’s blushing.

“I’m practicing my tree climbing. . . ?” He smugly answered. 

“Practicing,” Marinette repeated. Letting that lame reason melt on her tongue before she even thought of accepting it. Crossing her arms as she stuck her leg out. Her heel rocked back and forth on the dirt. Creating a little hole as she thought this over.

“I’m not one to try and get into someone’s business-”

“You’re not getting in my business. I MEan, I-I don’t mind you asking about it. .!”

Marinette kissed her teeth. “Right . . . “

Biting her lips as she left out a long sigh. Pitching the bridge of her nose, the click on her rings hitting her septum piercing. She’ll regret this, she knows it already. She just had to humor him, even if it was a little longer.

“So Agreste. I would hate to bother this,” Marinette motioned. Her hands raised up and down and around. “But you seem like you need help? Do you need help to get down?”

“. . .Actually, yeah.”

----

“Why is Marinette pulling Adrien out of a tree?” Alix questioned. Pointing out the window when Alya and Mylene came over. Her finger covering the odd scene outside.

The three girls press their faces up the glass as they watched the commotion outside unfold.

“It looks like Marinette is shoving him in a tree to me...” Alya mumbled. Squinting her eyes before she removed her glasses. Rubbing them quickly against her shirt before pushing them back up her face.

Mylene bit her thumb, “Do you think we should go and help them? Maybe they-”

A muffled thump hit the ground. A puff of dirt rising in the air, covering the teens outside. Coughing as they waved the dust away. Marinette smoothed the dirt off her jacket as Adrien groaned.

“I think they’re fine.” Alya hummed. Returning to her notebook.

“Okay, so what did you get for question seven?”

[f-agee]

I'm not really good at prompts but here goes nothing.

Claudette is beside herself when she finds out she's pregnant. For most people, this would be fantastic news. Hell, it would have been great news for her if there weren't a few significant issues. The first being that's she's stuck in an almost constant state of peril—second being that she has to find away to keep now not only herself safe but also her unborn child. The last issue but definitely not least is that the father of her child isn't exactly the friendliest or even friendly to begin with.

Claudette/ Frank or (whoever you pick I can't pick between Michael ,Evan ,Frank ,Kazan ,or Pyramid head)

It’s on ao3 if you wanna read it there too. I decided to do Pyramid head cause I like him and it was more interesting compared to some other killers for me

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24712846

For the first time after being trapped into the Entity, Claudette cried. She honestly thought all her tears have dried out by now. Every trial being an all too familiar torture she couldn’t even produce tears for anymore, but leave it to the Entity to find a new way to torture its inhabitants. In the end she can’t even blame the Entity for her mistake, it was even kind enough to grant her odd and unusual wish for a pregnancy test after she started getting sick. The dreaded object sat tossed aside carelessly near the log that she sat at, hidden away in the deepest part of an unexplored wood in order for her to feel comfortable enough to take it. It was her fault for not being careful, her fault for not thinking you could even get pregnant here, and her fault for even sleeping with the man in general. Despite everyone else she could try to blame, her newfound torturer was herself.

She tried to reason with herself a little, every act of negligence on her part did have a very valid reason to it. She never had her period since coming here, she’s had unprotected sex multiple times since being here, and if she was gonna be honest, she wouldn’t have even guessed that Pyramid Head was fertile. He seemed more like an entity himself rather than a regular human being. She would’ve been more concerned if she had slept with that Legion boy instead of him, but in the end she’d slept with him and was now facing the consequences of their actions.

There was nothing particularly bad about the man, except for the fact that he was a monster, and that was something that pained her more than usual. It was a somewhat ignorant thought that she would have never had otherwise, but in her grief, logic and empathy was starting to evade her. Claudette knew he was an intelligent beast. He responded to natural human conversation and was definitely capable of deeper thought despite his inability to speak them. They’ve had quite a few deep conversations before they started sleeping together, but for some reason Claudette felt a little disgusted with herself. Almost like she had slept with an animal and somehow found herself pregnant. The thought felt grotesque in her brain, and when she was more like herself, she felt that she should apologize to the man for even having such a thought cross her mind.

She hiccuped and cried harder into her hands. In a deeper part of her mind, she just knew her harsh and untrue thoughts were because of what he was to her. He was indeed monstrous to her both in stature and in nature. A born killer who preys upon the undeserving with no conviction would never make for a good father. She wished Jake had gotten her pregnant instead. They’ve had a few hook ups here and there towards the beginning of being trapped into the Entity.

Claudette couldn’t call it romantic, it was two people who were desperate for contact who wanted to feel a connection with someone they trusted. Their relationship remained platonic despite what they’d have done, and they were both fine with that. Claudette would’ve felt bad if she had thrusted a child onto him for something so inconsequential to both of them, but at least it would’ve been easy. It would’ve been a whole hell of a lot less complicated if it weren’t for the fact that the real father was a non verbal killer. It would’ve been one less situation to torture herself with.

She knew the father wasn’t Jake. They haven’t slept together in what seemed like years, and Claudette hasn’t had sex with any one else recently except for Pyramid Head. Oh God, to think that her baby daddy doesn't even have a name, just a title to call himself, made Claudette feel sick again. Once again, she shouldn’t be attacking him for things that he neither is, nor can he control, and she would definitely apologize to him later, but her child’s growth and future would absolutely be affected negatively by their bloody heritage. It’s already horrible enough to grow up in a place like this, but to have a visible murderer and torturer as your father doesn’t help.

She wonders if the baby would even make it. She’s so lucky she hasn’t died recently, but luck in this place dies just as quickly as the inhabitants it affects. Who knows what’ll happen to the baby if she dies, especially if her killer damages her stomach in the process? She knows that she’ll come back ok, but what about her unborn child? If her baby dies from her inability to protect it, the grief it will cause her would kill her again. She wouldn’t even know when she would have lost it. Prenatal care is almost impossible in this place, even more so with the fact that the only hospital in this realm has an ultra sadistic tormentor guarding it. She would have to wait to either miscarry in or out of a trial, or wait and see if her symptoms go away and she never grows bigger. She’ll sit and wonder if the Entity never put her baby back together like it did her after she died, just to start grieving for something that was dead months ago.

Even if her baby did survive, would they be healthy? Claudette could only imagine what it would be like to have continuous trauma to her womb during pregnancy. It’s not that she would love her child any less, quite the contrary actually, but she would always feel that it was her fault that her child wasn’t born as healthy as it could be. She also hoped that her child wouldn’t be afflicted with the same… condition as its father. She took the time to pause in her tears to laugh dryly. She could only imagine the torture of both carrying and birthing a child with a pyramid head. All of the cute little milestones of the baby moving around in her womb would slice her stomach open, or at least cause extensive, possibly irreversible damage to her. If it got bad enough it would probably be for the best to get an abortion, but God did she want this child. Despite every bad hand that's been dealt to her, she still loved this baby. She still wanted to make it work. She still wanted to see if she and Pyramid Head could be a family.

A family. That’s truly what she wanted at the end of the day. She definitely thought of the other survivors as her makeshift family, but this was different. To love someone dearly and have them love you back in such a way that only parents and their children could share. That’s what she wanted for herself. She wished she could’ve planned everything out better. If she was still going to have a child with Pyramid Head, she wanted them to be in love with each other. To at least have a romantic relationship before being saddled with a child. She wanted to have him love her, if not for her, then for the child. She’s seen what parents who hate each other’s guts do to children born between them, and she didn’t want another thing to add onto the child’s list of hardships. It’s not that she couldn’t have a loving relationship now, they’ve talked a lot and enjoyed each other's company many times before, but the chance that he wouldn’t love her in that way or would want anything to do with the child was far too high.

She’ll find out soon enough. It was for the best if she told him now before things got too deep. Her tears started to subside and before she knew it, she was already getting up to try and find a path that leads to Silent Hill. She only vaguely remembered the way to the confined hellscape, the killer being too new for habitual familiarity, and she hoped she didn’t stumble into any other killers territory. Afraid of what they could do to her if she walked into a particularly hostile domain, she started to feel herself tremble from more than just the tears.

She hadn’t even thought about it, but all of the extra stress that gets put on her could cause her to miscarry. Who cares if you escape a mad man’s clutches, when that same mad man scares you so past your wits that your own body kills the life inside it. Not to mention even if she survives the miscarry danger zone of the first few months, the further along she gets, the harder it is for her to run, hide, or help her friends. Try as her friends might they couldn’t do much for her if she couldn’t do it herself. None of them could face a killer toe to toe, and even as a group they can only save and protect the people who could help themselves out of a chase. If a killer truly wanted to kill a specific survivor, they will, and everyone who tries to stop them will only get hurt in the process. She can beg for mercy from the more kind and moralistic killers. Wraith, Legion, Huntress, hell maybe even the Oni may be more willing to turn a blind eye to her would be rounded form, but she knows for a fact that killers like Clown, Micheal and the Doctor would relish in the new ways they can torture her and would specifically seek her out in trials.

Her breathing got rapid and irregular. She was at the beginning of a panic attack and she knew it. This was all becoming too much for her. All this heartache, for a child that she wanted to keep. She needed to calm herself, knowing that it would do more harm than good if she let herself spiral, but her grief weakened mind couldn’t handle the onslaught of emotions. She paused in her steps, before falling to her knees. She didn’t even notice the startings of the familiar blood stained concrete, or the large figure walking towards her from a distance.

The ground shook slightly with the weight of Pyramid Head’s steps, small tremors getting stronger the closer he walked towards her. The even shaking gave her something to synchronize her breaths to, making her calm enough to at least be aware of her surroundings. Something must have gotten her there quicker or maybe she was just walking faster than she thought, either way she’s glad she made it here and not panicking alone in the forest. The sight of Pyramid Head clambering towards her would’ve scared her a month ago, but they’ve met up with each other like this a lot since then. It especially loses its impact after you’ve slept with a guy. Plus she had bigger fears on her mind than a man who seemed more concerned rather than bloodthirsty.

Claudette didn’t look up to him as he came to a stop directly in front of her. Her breathing had calmed down some, but she could still feel herself shaking violently. Only when the man kneeled down and put his hand on her shoulder, did she look up to him. She wondered how he could see with that thing on. If it were some sort of helmet, he would definitely only be able to give her a sideways glance, as he had to turn his head in order to not hit her with the metal contraption. He tilted his head even more to the side in concern, obviously asking a silent ‘What's wrong?’ To her. She knows she must look a mess to him, tear stained face and hyperventilating while sitting on the ground.

Her attack had mostly passed, but it’s disappearance did nothing to quell her shaking. She was definitely going to start crying again, and she didn’t even tell him what happened yet. The silence was starting to kill her. She wished either of them could speak to break the spell. She wished that she was strong enough to just let it all out. She wished that even when she did tell him that she was pregnant with his child, he could respond back and tell her exactly how he felt about the whole thing. She wished that she could’ve gotten pregnant under normal circumstances. Tears started to flow down her cheeks again as she whimpered softly.

Pyramid Head let out a startled low whine as he quickly shifted from letting go of her, to frantically waving his arms in front of her, then finally settling his large hands on her cheeks to both wipe her tears and let him have a clearer view of her face. He was definitely not used to comforting people, Claudette now knew that for a fact, but his genuine concern and eccentric way of doing it made Claudette feel a little better. She managed to let out a short teary laugh and put her hand up to hold his arm.

“Thank you,” She leaned into his touch and sighed. “I'm sorry... For the things I thought and said that you didn’t deserve. I’m sorry that I forced you into this position. I’m so sorry for everything.”

Now he looked even more confused than before. He paused in his ministrations and only seemed to stare at her. She knows he’s probably tired of her beating around the bush. She hasn’t said anything or done anything of substance since seeing him, only bawling her eyes out and panicking. She might as well get it out already, especially since, as a new killer, he gets called out often and could leave at any moment. She looked down, took a shaky inhale of breath, and licked her lips. Well… here goes nothing.

“Pyramid Head, I don’t know how it happened, but…” A pause.

“I-,” She looked back up at him. “I’m pregnant.”

She could feel him go stiff and even tighten his grip on her cheeks. As he made no further movements, Claudette felt the need to go on. To explain herself, to hear anything but the silence and the lack of clear emotion from the man.

“I asked the Entity to give me a pregnancy test, and it was positive… I want to keep it, if you don’t mind, but I don't know what to do. How we could survive, if we could survive. How I could raise them in a place like this,” Her eyes darted to and fro wildly, her hands following. She couldn’t help but to ramble. She needed someone there to listen, and here was just the man who needed to hear it. “God do I want this kid! I really do, but this is going to be so hard. And I don’t know if I’ll be raising the child alone or-”

Pyramid Head quickly grabbed her shoulders and shook them with a strong grunt. She finally looked up at him to see his large helm quickly swaying back and forth. This was somewhat unexpected to her, considering his lack of a positive reaction initially. Does he want to help raise the child? If so could her little fantasy of a happy family be closer to a reality? The thoughts ran laps around her mind. She felt her hopes starting to bubble up inside her. She wanted to see just how far she can press her luck.

“So… would you be willing to raise it with me?” A nod as his hand went down to softly palm her belly. She was starting to feel a smile coming on. “Well I don’t want to ruin what we have going on right now, but I was wondering if you wanted to.. I don’t know. Maybe start dating?”

There was a short pause that made Claudette’s heart drop a bit. She was going to backtrack on her words, but a confused grunt stopped her. She looked at him curiously as he pointed between them, made a lewd gesture with his hands, then formed a heart after he was finished. Claudette could feel her cheeks heat up at his display before questioning its meaning.

“Where we already dating when we had sex?” A curt nod was her only answer. She blinked stupidly for a second, then laughed at her ignorance. She was apparently worried about their relationship over nothing. She’s at least glad that she had one thing going positively for her.

“Sorry I didn’t realize. Most of the times I’ve had sex was mostly just flings, and to be honest it wasn’t a lot…” He put a hand on her shoulder and rubbed it, trying to comfort her.

“Well that’s at least two of my worries gone, but what about the more pressing issues. I don’t know if the baby could survive an attack or me dying. I know you wouldn’t hurt me, but what about the other killers? You can’t always be there to protect me,” They both looked down darkly at the grim situation. “I mean I could ask some killers not to target me. I know at least a few who wouldn’t hurt me-”

Pyramid Head gave a low growl at that. So that was a hard no, but they didn’t have a whole lot of options here, and Claudette knew that neither of them wanted to test the Entity’s rules on pregnancy death. Suddenly Pyramid Head made another noise as he then gestured to himself, then towards the sky. She took a moment to think about what he was trying to say.

“Are you gonna ask the Entity yourself?” Another nod. A killer asking the Entity for a favor worked out a lot better than a survivor asking for one, but Pyramid Head was new. Who knows if the Entity will trust him to keep promises or not, although he does have a good track record for kills so far. Claudette made a face. She didn’t like to take her chances with the Entity, but this was the only shot they got.

“Well… it’s worth a shot. I sure hope this works out.” She gave a reassuring smile as he rubbed her shoulder again. Eventually he pulled his hand off her shoulder, and opened up his arms to her for a hug. Claudette wasted no time taking him up on the offer, and quickly threw herself into the well needed hug. His hold was strong yet mindful of her small form. Strong bloodied hands lifted her carefully as he stood with her still in his arms. He walked them towards the main building, most likely on his way to the library, as was their usual hangout spot. The familiar scenery of the book filled room made Claudette feel the same sense of euphoria as when she’s in a garden. They definitely have a lot more to talk about, as difficult as some of the conversations may be they must be had. At least they had 9 months to think about the details.

[ithinkthingsaboutstuff]

Condiment-plation

[Did this for the Arkham Garlley Zine which is free to download here

or check them out at @arkhamgalleryzine ]

The condiment king rethinks his life choices   

By H.T.Vitols

 Gotham was home to some of the most menacing and hostile villains in the whole world. There was the clown prince of crime with his schemes and sick sense of humour, the fear of Gotham with his toxins and elixirs, the calculating cat that always hits her marks, the ecoterrorist with a deadly kiss and a man with a frozen heart and body. These people have made their names through fear, dexterity and their own brand of a repugnant trademarks. Each of them as cruel as they were unusual, Gotham was always at its finest went it was covered in darkness.        

Then there’s the Condiment King, Mitchell Mayo, the scourge of Gotham’s fast food chain’s if for no other reason that he steals all their ketchup and mustard packets and containers. His is as ludicrous as his name indicated and just as pathetic. He was Gotham’s biggest shame and from the city that is home to the Joker that is saying something. For it was not his deeds that made Gothamites collective decide to forget and ignore his existent but rather an idiosyncratic sense of pride that they could not quiet name or ever care to admit to having. Though their city was filled with freaks and maniacs, they were at least competent freaks and maniacs. The Gotham rouges stood for something, even if what that was can change, sometimes literally at the flip of a coin. They all made sense, in a Gotham sort of way, they had their deadly jokes, they wanted to see fear on Gotham’s face or simply wanted you to answer their riddles and play their games. These were people to be feared and to not be messed with, their names infamous throughout the world, all of them so uniquely Gotham. They gave Gotham a global spotlight and a reputation that cannot be matched. No matter how many alien’s Metropolis has or how many captain themed thieves Central City has, they cannot compete with Gotham’s flare. But if one is comparing flames a garbage fire tends to burn brighter and hotter then wood and paper. But the Condiment King was one particular garbage fire no one wanted to admit lived in Gotham. Condiment King was less the fire and more the garbage if we are to continue with this allegory.

This leaves Condiment King with an unusual advantage over the notorious criminals in Gotham, no one ever saw him coming or saw him as a threat. Hence, the average Gothamite is easy to take from, for they are so bewildered by his get up and motif that Condiment King can take their wallets, cover then in the condiment combination of his choice and get three blocks away before they even process what has happened. This is no easy feat as the average Gothamite is used to mass hysteria and city wide panic as if it was a minor inconvenience, having something that can shock them is not only rare but jarring like being ready to catch a ball but instead you get thrown a fish, harmful no, but perplexing in the most fundamental of ways.  

However, the obvious downside to this is that Condiment King gets no respect, or recognition by anyone. But that was something he was going to change, tonight. He had it all planed out, robbing a bank here, causing mass panic there, then he could do it, bring out the Batman and kill him where he stands. This, this is what will get him respect and recognition he thinks he deserved.

The trap was set at the bank, he went in overnight and placed mustard bombs and before you start to think Michelle had any sense of perceptive malice then I regret to inform you that the bombs are not made with mustard gas but the bombs were filled with house hold yellow American spicy mustard. He placed a device in every vent and hidden in all the pot plants. He has also poured maple syrup all over the floor it was so thick you could only take a few steps before becoming stuck to your ankles. After Batman was stuck to the floor and the mustard went off covering Batman, he would fire his relish gun (with a well-timed pun) and fill the dark knights mouth with it, then he would finishes him off with he would drop four industrial sized ketchup barrels onto his head crushing him to the sticky floor as he drowned in the relish.

It was perfect. No longer will he be a joke, who could laugh at him then, no one in this city or any other, his name will be known throughout the world more than any other rogues has ever been before. Then on one will wilfully ignore him ever again because history will remember him as the man who killed Batman.

Everything was set, he had his hostages and his plan now all he needed was the Batman. With a sudden burst through the widow there he was. The Batman, wait no, that wasn’t Batman, it was a child in a red and green suit. Where is Batman? And where are this boy’s pants?

‘Wow, really, Condiment King, how are you holding these people here?’

‘With this.’

He pulled out a gun and faced it to the boy. The boy then throws a knife, a god damn knife, at Mitchells’ hand making him drop the gun. This is the robin he has been hearing so much about he thought they were just rumouring that Batman had a kid. Oh well, the boy will have to do for now he is Batman’s bird after all.

‘Well little boy you have made a big mistake, you won’t relish coming here.’  

He then fires his weapon at the boy as he cartwheels to the side.

‘Dude not only was that lame, but it makes no sense. Try and ketchup’

The boy then flipped over the syrup trap with a duck and tumble jump, how did he flip over five metres of the floor with barley a run up. The boy then swiped his feet from under him as his back firmly planted into the syrup. He was stuck like a turtle on its back, the boy giggled and leaned down to him.

‘Hey, why didn’t you rob the place when you set all this up?’

‘I wanted the Bat.’

‘And I wanted to meet Superman tonight, but I guess both of are plans got ruined.’

Then boy then waved to the room of now free hostages had them put down some tables so they could walk over the sticky floor and flipped over the syrup again, he was just rubbing it in now. The boy then held open the door for the hostages and then the police as they came in, the boy then vanished into the night.

The cops where laughing and taking pictures and Condiment King struggled on his back. He then gave up and contemplated how his life came to this.

End

[prairiesongserial]

Windfield Pass 8

With the town in sight, Owl was overflowing with energy. She ran ahead through the meadows, so far that Agnes could only see her by the tip of her hat. However, she stopped to pick every flower she saw, so that Agnes was able almost to catch up to her before Owl sprinted off again.

The school had just let out for the afternoon, and as Agnes and Owl drew closer, they could see children pouring out of the schoolhouse and down the paths that would take them to the many farmhouses surrounding town.

“Can I?” Owl asked, bubbling with excitement.

“I don’t see why not,” said Agnes.

Owl disappeared down the lane, trying to catch up to the children who were walking in a clump toward the center of town. Compared to the Windfield children, Owl was dressed provincially, and Agnes wondered if Willa and Ben’s plan had been doomed to fail from the start. Windfield had a tailor. Windfielders had buttons on their clothes. Only colony kids dressed like Owl, wearing long, loose shirts cinched at the waist with a gathered, pull-string skirt that could be let out with every growth spurt.

But as Agnes watched, Owl seemed to fit in just fine. The school kids were a couple years older than her, but they shared the ball they were bouncing down the road, and soon the lot of them were fast friends. Agnes trailed behind. She wasn’t sure where she should take her query about Owl - to a farming family, a prosperous one, that could use the extra hand? But there was less chance of her getting an education on the outskirts. The mayor, perhaps?

Agnes was still turning the question over when the baker spotted her through his window and hurried out to meet her. He was a stout, friendly man about five Agnes’s senior, named Paul.

“Dr. Hopper, you’re back sooner than expected,” he exclaimed. “Run out of jam cookies already?”

“Yes, but that’s not why I’m here.” Agnes spared Owl a glance. She was getting farther ahead, but it wasn’t hard to track a person down in a small town like Windfield. She’d turn up at someone or other’s dinner table. “That little one, there, in the hat - what do you think of her?”

“Awfully small to be in school,” Paul said. “Whose is she?”

Agnes had put some thought into what her answer would be. Owl needed a cover story, but one that would be difficult to verify.

“She’s an orphan I picked up in Pickton,” Agnes said easily. “They had a tight harvest this year, and asked if I might ask around here for someone to take her in.”

“Pickton? You’ve only been gone three days, four days? It would take you at least that long to get to Pickton. And I thought you were going...home.”

The way he said home was more than a little disapproving, but Agnes chose not to remark on it. “I had intended to stop in Harehaven, but I could see from the pass that there were too many muties on the move. I cut south, and happened upon a motorist, who graciously offered me a ride to Pickton.”

“Motorist?” Paul said, almost alarmed. Windfield and its neighbors were so far out of the way that a motorist was a rare occurrence, and usually accompanied by gang trouble.

“Just a farmer, by the look of her. She drove us halfway here, as thanks for taking the orphan girl.”

Paul only then remembered Owl.

“The orphan, that’s right, that’s right…”

“Your family doesn’t need any more help, does it?” Agnes said.

“Not from one that young, I’m afraid. Our hands are full enough.” Paul paused in thought. “Why don’t you take her to Marge? She knows the in and out of everything, and that’s her daughter, there, the tall one.”

Agnes squinted down the road. The gaggle of students had thinned as the children passed by their own homes. Now there were only two other girls.

“Thank you,” Agnes said, taking after them. “And I’ll be sure to be back for more cookies.”

“Any time, Dr. Hopper.”

Agnes lagged behind the girls as they made their way through town. Being the town’s only doctor afforded a certain amount of trust, more so than Windfield would afford any other traveller, even a traveling musician or clown who was known by the town. But being the doctor, that had overwritten even her contamination by association with Harehaven. It was a good sign that Paul had believed her about Owl. With any luck, the rest of the town would take her word as well.

The tallest of the schoolgirls - Marge’s daughter - stopped to flirt with a young man loitering outside the tailor’s shop. Agnes recognized him as the tailor’s son, and suspected that he had run out on his chores at just this time of day on purpose.

Agnes caught up to Owl, who gave her a surreptitious thumbs up. One of the remaining girls was a little closer to Owl in age, and was teaching her how to make a web out of a circle of string caught between her hands.

Marge’s daughter, whose name Agnes could not remember for the life of her, was in the middle of receiving a silk flower from the tailor’s son. It looked a bit clumsy - the boy might have made it himself. He was trying to fasten it to her lapel and every time he stuck her, the poor girl winced in silence, not wanting to hurt his feelings.

“Thank you for walking with Owl, here,” Agnes said to the younger girl with the string. “What’s your name?”

“She’s Mer’dith, and she says she has more strings at home, and she’ll give one to me so I can practice Jacob’s ladder,” Owl interjected.

“And that’s Ruthie, only she likes being called just Ruth now,” said Meredith matter of factly. “She’s gonna be ‘gaged, or that’s what Mrs. Marge says.”

Ruth flushed to the tips of her ears, as did the tailor’s son, who promptly stuck her again.

“I see,” said Agnes, turning to Ruth. “Mrs. Marge is your mother, correct? I’m Dr. Hopper. I’ve been instructed to speak with her. Would you mind showing me the way?”

“Yes, M’am,” Ruth said, and shyly took the silk flower away from the tailor’s son before he did any permanent damage. She walked briskly ahead, so that Owl and Agnes both struggled to keep pace. Her house wasn’t far, as Windfield wasn’t a particularly large town. The house was on a slim lane just off the main street, and was built at an unfortunate slant that looked quite unsafe. It leaned toward its neighbor almost comically, as if it were putting an ear up to the walls.

Ruth opened her front door, calling “Mama?” as she led Agnes and Owl inside. Meredith had hung around as well, perhaps because there was not likely to be anything more interesting to do at home. And all the better that she had: Meredith and Owl had become fast friends, and Meredith was taking the brunt of her questions. Owl explored the little parlor with fascination, at once jumping on the sofa and hollering “What is this?” only to be distracted seconds later by the clock on the mantle, then the vase of dried eucalyptus standing next to it.

“Mama, we have visitors,” Ruth called, perhaps unnecessarily.

“Heavens, you should have said you were bringing a guest, I would have had something to eat ready. Oh, shoot, the kettle - ” The sound of agitated bustling could be heard from the kitchen, and Agnes continued past the young ladies to speak with Marge. Agnes stood in the doorway to the kitchen, watching silently for a moment as Marge fussed with a book of matches, trying to light the stove. Marge was a plump woman with red cheeks and red knuckles, and though Agnes had never known her name, she recognized her as a familiar face of Windfield. She was usually to be found near the water pump, animatedly offering her opinion on the goings on in town.

“Sorry to intrude,” Agnes said, and Marge gasped and dropped her match. Agnes paused. “And to startle you.”

Agnes supposed she must have a fairly startling appearance, presently. After days in the wilderness, sleeping in caves, and all that after having been soaked in the river, she was well worn with travel. And she was a stringy creature to start with, old and haggard, a form less suited to parlors and more to skulking in back alleys. Or so she had come to think of herself.

“Heavens, who are you? You aren’t that nice boy Reginald.”

“I’m afraid not,” Agnes replied. “I’m here to speak with you regarding some unusual business, but I’ve been told you are the person in the know.”

This was exactly what Marge wanted to hear, it seemed. She brightened at once. Her expression turned only slightly less bright at the sound of Owl launching herself from one piece of furniture onto another.

“Well, you’re quite welcome, do make yourself comfortable,” Marge said. “I’ll be out presently with a bit to eat - you look famished. Who do you have out there with you?”

“Meredith and - well, and the topic of conversation. A young girl.”

Marge looked very interested at that. She puttered between the cupboard and the ice box, and hollered for Ruth to fetch the nice tea cups from the pantry, as the kettle began to sing. Agnes hovered in the parlor, watching Owl and Meredith play on the floor with a pair of dolls Ruth had unearthed for them. Owl touched every seam of the doll reverently, as if she couldn’t quite believe that something so wonderful could be made of cloth and thread. That really brought Agnes back. She could feel herself becoming increasingly invested in finding Owl a placement in Windfield, despite her misgivings, as if giving Owl a proper doll would heal her own bereft childhood.

“Oh, my, you’re a little one,” Marge said as she entered the parlor with a full platter of cheese and pastry. “Eat up, all of you, eat.”

She settled in an overstuffed pink chair while Ruth brought in the tea and poured everyone a cup. Agnes hadn’t realized how sorely she had missed a hot drink, and relished every sip. Owl, meanwhile, forgot the doll at once at the sight of a meal. She crowded the coffee table and began to pile shortbread cookies into her skirt.

Agnes tapped her hand, setting her tea down for a second.

“Take cheese too. And try this, this is cured meat.”

Owl gave her a withering look, but took exactly one piece of cheese, then carried her bounty back over to Meredith and the dolls.

“Now, tell me what this is all about,” said Marge, as Agnes returned to her tea. “Who’s this little girl?”

“I’m Owl. I’m four,” Owl said. Then, promptly, she shoved another cookie in her mouth, freeing up her hands to play.

“Owl, now that’s a strange name,” Marge said. “Where is she from?”

“Pickton. She’s an orphan, and…”

“Right, right, I see,” Marge said, nodding. “And you’d like to know where to place her in Windfield. That’s a tough question...there’s always the farms, if only she were a little older. But a real little one like that...let me think about it.”

Marge closed her eyes, nodding her head slowly. Suddenly, her eyes snapped open.

“She’s not mutated, is she? That’ll be a deal-breaker.”

“No, she’s not,” Agnes said curtly.

“Well, Anna down at the general store has been trying to conceive without any luck, so you might ask her. Apart from her, let me think… Henry might take her. He and Rafael are in a bit of a bind financially, this year, but they’d be good parents.”

“That would be wonderful. Do you mind introducing us?”

“Oh, of course. But finish your tea first - please, eat some pastry.” Marge continued on about the ins and outs of the people in town, only some of whom Agnes knew by name. Hilda had started construction on an aqueduct, but had had to stop for the winter. The town mason had recently taken sabbatical to study her trade out west near the Idaho border - apparently the mill in Teton Town was of more efficient design - but she was back now, as of just last week.

“Oh, and a band of feral cats got into Lizzy Borton’s kitchen and tore down her nice lace curtains,” Marge continued, talking into her tea cup. “She suspects foul play, but then again, she always does.”

Agnes slowly sipped her tea and watched Owl get along with Meredith. She seemed happy, playing on the floor. This might have been her first time in a house with an upstairs, but after a few minutes of exploration, it was as if she had been living in houses all her life. She was young enough, Agnes supposed, that she could still accept new experiences easily. She had not seemed particularly surprised by Selkie or the caves, either.

When tea was finished, Marge got dressed for the cold, and the lot of them - minus Ruth, who had chores to attend to - made for the general store to speak with Anna. Owl hung back with Meredith. That was good. It would make leaving easier. Easier on Owl, at least.

Agnes hadn’t spared much thought to how it would feel to leave Owl behind, or where she would go next. She supposed she should make the trek down to Pickton in time for influenza season, but just thinking of more travel made her joints ache. One day she wasn’t going to be able to make her circuit anymore. Already, these past few years, she had felt the strain of pushing herself too far. With each passing season, she spent more time recovering from travel and less time administering to the townspeople. Agnes had spun the roulette wheel, so to speak, and would one day be stuck wherever it stopped. Would it be a humble colony like Harehaven, barely able to support an old doctor? Or a larger town like Windfield? Would she be resented? It might not be so bad to retire if she could visit with Owl, and if the town remembered her fondly for the work she had done.

“Here’s the general store, now,” Marge announced. “Anna, Anna dear, it’s Marge, I have Dr. Hopper with me to talk about you-know-what.”

Anna, a flush-faced, harried young woman, popped her head out the door and gave Marge a severe look.

“No one can tell you anything in confidence, Marge Whimble,” she snipped. But she held the door open for the lot of them to come inside. The general store wasn’t too busy, though a large man with a mustache was doing inventory along the back wall.

Owl circled the place, peering into barrels and touching the shelves and their contents, from jarred foods to candles to matches. Meredith quickly pulled her away from the breakables, explaining the rules to Owl, as well as the concept of “you break it, you buy it.”

“Just do keep your voice down,” Anna said, tearing her eyes away from the young ones and looking expectantly at Agnes.

“Well,” said Agnes. “I’ve learned from Marge that you may be interested in raising a young child. This is Owl, she’s an orphan from Pickton looking for a placement.”

Agnes stepped aside so that Owl could be seen properly. She was exploring a barrel of dried kidney beans with utter relish, giggling to Meredith.

“Can I have these?” Owl said, jumping in place. “Agnes, can I have these?”

Anna seemed to have been robbed of breath. She knelt by Owl to get a good look at her, and Owl immediately took her hands out of the barrel and tucked them behind her back.

“Hi, Owl. I’m Anna,” she said. “You’re from Pickton?”

“I guess,” said Owl quietly.

“She’s not, she’s from the mutie waste, she told me,” Meredith piped in. “She said she’s friends with them.”

“With...who?” Anna said, standing.

“With muties. And she had to hide in a tree from one of them, but then it didn’t eat her after all, and instead it dragged them through the river to its secret lair, and they came through the caves, and it still didn’t eat them, probably because it smelled the mutie waste on ‘em.”

Agnes stood speechless.

Windfield Pass 7 || Windfield Pass 9

[romancevsreality-blog]

the bachelorette, season fourteen, episode four: welcome to heteronormative summer camp!

This season is a car wreck, and not the good kind.

I know, I know. “Amanda, is there ever a good car wreck?” I don’t know, ask Holly Hunter and James Spader in Cronenberg Crash how they feel about that1. Ask insurance companies! They would know!

No, this season is a car wreck because not only are the men absolutely wretched - who would have thought we could get worse than the combination of Chad, Chase, Robb(ie) and Dean - but Becca is basically a nonfactor, and production DGAF about spoilers and the casting of literal sex offenders. This has all resulted in some of the most boring television I have ever had the displeasure of viewing.

But alas, I do it for y’all.

The episode opens up right before the third cocktail party, and those without roses are terrified. David / Chicken Man literally fell out of a bunk bed because this show has so many similarities to summer camp. Speaking of, Clay, who is a professional football player, hurt his wrist so badly he had to leave the show. This is the most fucked up summer camp ever, and we haven’t even gotten to Paradise yet.

Ugh. Paradise. Remember back when Paradise was the best part of my summer2?

Star of the Floptastic Fantastic Four, Miles Teller, takes Becca aside to make her feel better after Clay’s departure. And that conversation means talking about the number of kids you want! That’s totally how I relax. Blake wants 3-5 kids, which Becca reacts the same way I do - COMPLETE AND UTTER HORROR. Men always want a bunch of fuckin’ kids because they don’t have to do the work. They don’t have a parasite that feeds on your nutrients for nine months, then you EXPEL that parasite from your body and you’re expected to take care of that parasite for the rest of your lifetime, including using your body to feed them for a while afterwards. Like, it’s a vagina - not a clown car. I fully intend to approach pregnancy as “That Really Cool Thing I Only Want To Do Once, Maybe Twice, Just For The Shits And Gigs of It All.” I can’t wait for my kids to read this blog.

Becca wants to name her daughter “Stevie”, which… I’m not even going to get started on that one. No, wait, I’m going to. I am totally pro-gender neutral names3, but STEVIE? Stevie. You are robbing your child of an adult name if you name them Stevie. No one trusts a 45 year old named Stevie. They both also agree with “Charlie”, which is cute as a shortened version of Charles or Charlotte. I am not calling anyone named Charlie Charlie after the age of 23. Charlie is a fuckboy4. They make out after baby talk, which is not what it sounds like.

Jordan is relishing in David falling out of his bed, and Jordan believes that God willed David’s hospital visit into the universe. Is this what I sound like when I talk about willing shit into existence? I’m going to stop ASAP. Anyway, Jordan, despite being happy David is gone, doesn’t even think it matters - he can woo Becca in 5 minutes as well as he can in 30. Premature ejaculation is common in the Haus of Jordan. He goes off on some nonsense about wearing a tie but not wearing a tie so Becca can get a read on him?

Jordan is doing some Nathaniel Hawthorne-esque symbolism through sartorial choices and I would watch an entire series of Jordan trying to tell women how he feels about them using his clothes rather than his words. Becca presents Jordan with a pair of golden lame hot pants, and Jordan takes that as being the Golden Boy and that Becca clearly thinks his junk is gold. Seriously. Someone greenlight this series.

David comes back while this is occurring, and he looks a fucking wreck. Black eye, nose all banged up - David done fucked himself right up. Jordan acts like David can do anything about the way he looks with his broken nose. Becca does her due diligence and takes him aside, and she tells him how handsome he looks. Becca, you’re trying it. David schmoozes the FUCK out of Becca about how happy he is to be back and how this hurt more to leave her than him. Jordan, still banking on his looks and his looks alone, is completely focused on how terrible David looks. Jordan’s confident he’s getting a rose tonight and David will get sent home simply because of what he looks like.

Jordan is such a delusional monster, but he’s literally not even the worst person there.

Becca, being a saint, offers David a rose because there’s no way David can stand through a 4-6 hour Rose Ceremony.I feel like this is the one form of compassion we’re going to see from these people this season. David relishes in the fact that he gets to show off his bruised face AND his rose to Jordan, and skips off to bed.

And then, David goes, “Hey Jordan, what’s up?” and Jordan is so butt hurt about it.

We head into the Rose Ceremony. Chris, Colton, and David already have roses, so they don’t have to worry about a damn thing.

Jason / Andrew Keegan, Wills, Nick, Christon, Lincoln (BOOOOOOOOOO), Blake, Garrett, Leo, Venmo John, Connor (I think?), Jordan, and Jean Blanc Ralphio are all recipients of this week’s roses.

Bye, Mystery Hottie Ryan and Man Bun Mike. We literally never knew anything about you guys.

Oh, and we’re going to a winter wonderland. We’re off to Park City, Utah4! I wonder if they’re going to leave the country after Lincoln’s eliminated because they can’t travel with a felon!

Someone at the styling team really hates Becca because they put her in a bright red puffer jacket that must have been taken from the set of A Christmas Story: The Musical, LIVE! from last December. Hopefully that’s the closest Pasek and Paul make it to this disaster of a show, but knowing ABC, they’ll find a way. We learn that Garrett, who I hate, gets the one-on-one date.

Assuming they filmed this in February/March, making Garrett and Becca walk the streets of Park City could be considered cruel and unusual punishment. It definitely looks like one of those days that you think it’s warm because of the sun, but a breeze comes through and you think you’ve been slapped in the face. I don’t miss the cold. Becca brings Garrett to a an alpaca shop, which is not what I expected to be. Less alpacas, more sweaters. Becca sees her dad in Garrett, and honestly, this girl got her heart broken on national TV and doesn’t have a dad and clearly is going to look like that in a person.

And then we learn that Lincoln is a flat earther.

Okay, so Lincoln is:

Slimy

Rumored to have issues pooping in public

An actual convicted sexual assaulter

A FUCKING FLAT EARTHER?

AND HE’S BLACK???????????????

I hate being like “Man, this guy is making it look bad for everyone”, but I feel like if my friend Rae, who is also a Nigerian-American, heard any of this stuff about Lincoln, she would find him and chop his head off. He is making Nigerians look bad, and this is after Jackie Aina falsely accused another YouTuber of international bank fraud. Lincoln is worse than accusing someone of international bank fraud.

All the men are looking at him like he’s bonkers. He literally cannot fathom the idea of friction, gravity, or astrophysics. He invites an astrophysicist, the primary viewing group of The Bachelorette, to discuss it over hot chocolate.

I don’t even want to acknowledge Lincoln as a person anymore. Is he gone yet?

Back at the house, we hear Venmo John speak for the first time all season, and it turns out he has a weird voice. Is that mean? He’s talking with Jean Blanc Ralphio, who basically is this season’s anxiety bomb - he just needs to take a deep breath and chill out.

Garrett and Becca take a ski slope up to the top of a bobsledding track, and honestly, I really wish that they had just superimposed footage from Cool Runnings over this entire scene. We meet Shauna Rohbok and Valerie Fleming, who are silver medalists at the US Bobsled team, who also happen to be married to each other. My favorite part is Garrett putting two and two together than these two women are married to each other and that lesbianism isn’t a thing pornography made up and pretending to be super cool with that5.

Cue bobsledding montage.

Becca and Garrett sit down to “dinner”, and Becca immediately compares him to her dad. Garrett’s like “thanks dawg,” and then Becca’s like “okay, time to talk about your former relationships! Time to unveil your deepest personal traumas to me, this camera crew, and the rest of America!” Of course Garrett got married and divorced young - less than three years from dating to divorce, god damn - and he thinks it was to the Wrong Person. She was emotionally abusive and isolated him from the rest of his family, and he was the first member of his family to get divorced so he has Baggage. I mean, I still hate him. But that’s still unfortunate. Garrett reaffirms he’s there For Becca and he wants it to work for them, and that gets him a rose, and a dance in front of a band and a live audience. Again, do we ever hear from these bands again? Or the audience members, at that?

Back at the house, there’s a....

DATE CAAAAAAARD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Jordan, Chris, Star of War Dogs Miles Teller, Nick, John, Lincoln, Leo, David, Connor (I Think?), Christon, Colton, and Jean Blanc Ralphio are on the date card, which means My Boyfriend Wills is going on the other one-on-one date this week. And a ton of the dudes in the room are P I S S E D about that.

The guys all go to join Becca, who is wearing her best Lumberjack Chic outfit in a wheat field that’s somehow not covered in snow. Are they sure this is really Utah? They’re literally having a lumberjack bash, because… this show has a budget of $15 an episode, and they spent half of it on bobsledding lessons. They are literally going to throw axes and chop wood, because heteronormative activities on an arbitrary scale of masculinity is a great way to measure a man’s ability to be a good husband. Jean Blanc Ralphio, Frat Fink6 and He Who Shall Not Be Named are both disasters at chopping wood. I literally cannot be bothered to write anything positive about this because I do not understand the POINT. At some point the guys are literally lifting and pushing over logs?

This would never work for me. The guys, to make things worse, are split into teams to do a relay for Becca’s heart. There’s a ton of “separating the men from boys” things going on, and I thought that was determined by age and maturity, not by… being able to climb a 30 foot tall log. Maybe that’s just me? The final competition boils down to Venmo John vs Star of the Divergent Series, Miles Teller, and in a shocking twist, Venmo comes in first, and he gets a golden axe7.

If they wanted a date where the men wore plaid, I would much rather have all of them do their best Kurt Cobain impressions in a “grunge themed” group date. I had a much more insensitive punchline to that joke, so I’m just going to leave it at that for now.

It’s time for the After-After-After-After-After Party, and the first person to take Becca aside is Jason / Andrew Keegan, and basically he just talks about how nice it was to see Becca having fun. That’s it. He’s nervous because he cares about Becca so he’s finding it hard to be aloof, and agrees to just embrace that. Okay.

Is Jason working on me? Oh my god. He sounds genuine when he says this. NOOOOOOO, DO NOT LET ME FALL FOR ANDREW KEEGAN’S CULT!!!8 Colton tells Becca he’s been in love before, and this dude is a virgin who’s been in love? What the fuck? Jordan is wearing the hot pants Becca gave him under his clothes, and honestly, Aaron Samuels wishes. He takes off his pants to show her and kiss Becca, and she literally tells him she can’t take him seriously before sashaying away to the other men on the couch.

Jesus, Jordan is annoying. Colton and Frat Fink are irritated especially, and is the next to join the Jordan is Not Here for the Right Reasons camp. They think his behavior is disrespectful, and Colton wants his shenanigans to be over. Jordan asks if Colton thinks Jordan should be tired of all these men taking him aside to talk to him, and Colton’s like “yeah… because you’re annoying, dude.” He calls Jordan a motherfucker, a clown, all kinds of things. Colton calls himself “One of the Good Guys”, something I can certifiably say is unlikely to be true. Jordan is harmless and Becca clearly doesn’t see him as a real option, so this is all unnecessary.

Jean Blanc Ralphio takes Becca side to present her with a perfume, and it is at this moment that I realize his FIRST AND LAST NAME is Jean Blanc. This entire time I thought Jean Blanc was his first and middle name and I let out an entirely involuntary “THIS IS WHY WE CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS.” at my office. The perfume is called “Miss Becca Blanc,” which is so weird. We don’t even find out what it smells like before Jean Blanc Ralphio tries to exchange the perfume for a kiss, which Becca is not about. She can smell something unpleasant in the air, and it’s not JBR’s cologne - it’s Desperation, by Calvin Klein. At this time, Leo comes in to interrupt9 and that basically starts Jean Blanc Ralphio on a shame spiral. He wants to turn that frown upside dizity, but he doesn’t know how.

He decides to take life by the balls and interrupt Lincoln’s time with Becca. He wants to affirm how he feels about Becca, and tells her that he’s falling in love with her.

Basically, this is Jean Blanc Ralphio:

Becca’s response:

Me, at home:

Also Me:

Becca doesn’t know anything about this person, or what brought on these feelings so quickly, but Becca is overwhelmed. Not just whelmed. She’s not even close to the same page, they’re in separate chapters. It may feel like it’s been a year, but it’s the fourth episode, Jean Blanc Ralphio. You feel NOTHING except a mild erection, and Becca’s allowed to not want you there anymore because she thinks your feelings are deeper than hers and she doesn’t know if she can get there with you. Becca asks if she can walk him out.

Jean Blanc Ralphio asks about his gift on his way out, and Becca offers to give it back. Uh, Becca? It was a gift. Likely it’s water with food coloring in it and a Microsoft Word label, he doesn’t need it back. And that’s when Jean Blanc Ralphio digs his grave.

Basically, Jean Ralphio expected to give Becca a gift and that would get her so aroused and turned on that she would fall madly in love with him straight away, and confessing his love to her was simply a tactic, not his actual sentiment. He fully admits to basically saying that because he wanted to stay there and because he thought that’s what she wanted from him. Uh, this girl just had her heart shattered on national TV from a dude’s insincerity, it’s the exact OPPOSITE of what she wants right now. Becca is so mad and basically shoves him out the door. Becca goes to talk to the other dudes in pure anger, and cancels the rest of the night. No one’s getting the group date rose.

The next day, My Boyfriend Wills has been prepped with the knowledge that Becca had a hard night the night before. Everyone saw Becca’s genuine, real anger the night before, and they have all realized Rebecca ain’t no one to fuck with. Becca’s an emotional mess from the night before still, and she feels weird.

Probably because you haven’t dealt with having your heart broken on national television, Rebecca.

My Boyfriend Wills approaches Becca in the snow, and he gives her a huge hug. They both talk about not wanting to talk about what happened the previous night, so of course that’s going to be the main focus on the evening. They’re going to go on snowmobiles so they don’t have to talk about anything, and Becca has a wonky eyelash. They have a snowball fight, My Boyfriend Wills has an ASMR voice, and it’s all pretty wonderful. They go to dinner, and Wills reveals that his Deep Romantic Trauma is from his ex-girlfriend wanting to open up their relationship and him not being game for that. He refers to this as a “Hall Pass”, which implies that it’s less wanting Openness, but her looking for an excuse to cheat. But Wills isn’t afraid of commitment whatsoever, he’s afraid of not being Enough.

Oh, Wills. I get that.

But that honesty and respect for Becca gets Wills a rose. Yas, My Boyfriend Wills.

Back at the house, the dudes who got fucked over by Jean Blanc’s fuckery cutting the group date short - Nick and Connor (I think?) - and Chris Harrison comes by for five seconds to reveal that Becca knows her choices and there isn’t going to be a cocktail party that evening, it’s going straight to the Rose Ceremony. Nick and Connor (I think?) are upset and fucked up about this.

Becca:

It’s time for the Rose Ceremony.

Leo, Colton, Blake, Jason, Connor (I think?), He Who Shall Not Be Named, John, Frat Fink, David, and Jordan get roses. Bye Nick, Bye Christon10. Jordan is shook he’s in last place, even though he’s been there before.11

Oh, and we’re off to Vegas!

Next Week: Tons of Vegas references! The Bellagio fountain! Becca is feeling amazing! Frat Fink is this guy’s “what about my attention? I’m better than these guys!” And David vs. Jordan in the desert for my favorite part of the season - the two-on-one.

See you then!

Random Assessments from the Desk of Amanda:

I’m so mad my hottie mystery banjo boyfriend is a MAGAhead, I cannot.

Oh my god, not only is Jordan’s identity Being Ridiculously Good-Looking, he also feels the need to bring up his crotch enough that I’m genuinely worried he might really be a Ken Doll down there.

The only good part of this week’s group date was the butts. Oh my god, the butts.

Seriously, was this season lit with the Benjamin Franklin’s lightbulb?

Okay, but god BLESS Jean Blanc Ralphio for having a name but also providing me with the opportunity to look at a bunch of gifs of  my Future Husband Ben Schwartz for this recap. #soloboloforevolo

I love that My Boyfriend Wills has a sweatshirt with his name on it.

Has the Rose Ceremony order always had the implication of favor? I didn’t know it was an official ranking of where you are to the lead.

Super Telling Of How Terrible This Season Is: this episode didn’t get a “funny behind the scenes moment featuring the guys while the credits roll” scene.

Or if you’re my mother, ask James Spader in general - she has this weird theory he’s a weirdo and it’s my favorite thing. Like, she cannot deduce whether he’s a weird person or he’s really, really good at playing weird characters. I love his sliminess. ↩︎

Now it’s Claws. Are you watching Claws? You should be fucking watching Claws, god damn it. It's on Hulu! Get on it! ↩︎

Hi Jordan! ↩︎

Fun Fact: for years, I thought Park City was named because they had an Olympic Park there. Text STOP to stop useless facts about my life! ↩︎ ↩︎

My other favorite part? Shauna Rohbok is a lesbian Mormon. ↩︎

My friends call Chris Rat Fink, but I think Frat Fink is an even better variation because he totally was the gross frat guy in college. ↩︎

Something tells me Jordan is having a conniption somewhere. ↩︎

Then again, it would be the biggest compliment to be hot enough to be offered a spot in this cult. ↩︎

He is so shrouded in darkness and his hair I literally had to guess based on a floral print and a voice who this is. It could have been anyone. ↩︎

God, I hope Christon makes it into paradise and they bring back Scallop Fingers / Christen / Krysten / Kiersten and we get their names confused. ↩︎

He also compares himself to a sponge, and Monet X Change would like a FUCKING WORD. ↩︎

[empressdrega27]

Monster in the mirror

This is just a random oneshot that I thought of.....

Trigger warnings for mentions of violence, and blood

Boggarts were normal. They were seen in the wizarding world all the time. Naturally, everybody avoided them because of what they could do. Experiencing your worst fear isn't pleasant after all. But while most people had very straight forward fears, snakes, spiders, clowns, etc., Elizabeth did not. The first time she encountered a boggart, she was at a loss. It had spasmed a bit and seemed almost as if it couldn't pinpoint her fear. But then it stopped, and transformed.

Into a mirror.

Nobody knew why, even Professor Lupin was confused. Elizabeth cast the spell to banish the creature, and that was that. Still though, her mind wandered to the strange event, but after a time, she gave up trying to come up with an explanation. It was only when she was older that she realized the truth. The next time she encountered a boggart, it once again transformed into a mirror, but this time, instead of casting the charm right then, Elizabeth walked closer. She looked into the mirror and saw,......

shadows, inky black and swirling. Suddenly a figure appeared, and she gasped. It was shrouded in darkness, but Elizabeth could make out some features, long horns, sharp claws, and a mouthfull of jagged teeth. She winced, the teeth were dripping with blood. Elizabeth shuddered, while the creature in the mirror was disturbing, she wasn't afraid of it. Almost as if it could hear her thoughts, the creature opened it's eyes.

Glowing silver eyes. Her eyes.

It was then that Elizabeth understood. That which she feared most

was herself.

As she got older, Elizabeth found herself more and more afraid. When she fought criminals, she relished in hearing them scream in terror. She roared and growled to make them whimper. She had dreams of tearing her enemies apart, and when she woke up she could almost taste their blood. Nightmares plagued her each night. When it changed from common criminals and villains, to Elizabeth's own mother in her jaws, Elizabeth decided not to sleep at all.

 She could go without sleep for 2 months if she absolutely had too, but right then she was going on 4. Her mother, brother, and her friends called her, leaving frantic messages begging her to tell them she was alright. But she didn't reply. She was a monster, and she was dangerous. It was only when her loved ones came to her house that they saw the true extent of Elizabeth's condition. 

She hadn't slept (how could she when all she saw was her family dead by her hand), she hadn't eaten (would you be able to eat with the constant taste of blood in your mouth), and there was dried blood by her nose and mouth (her body wasn't designed to go without food for that long). She was dying. Her mother sobbed, her brother stood speechless, and her two best friends kicked themselves for not seeing the signs sooner. But how could they? Elizabeth was a master mimic, she could imitate anyone's voice. It wasn't much of a stretch to think she could mimic her own happiness.

 She tried to escape, to get away from them. Didn't they know that she could kill them in an instant?! But she was too weak. Elizabeth screamed. Why did she become this.... beast? It would be a long journey, but eventually, Elizabeth would be okay again.

It was a few years since "the Incident" as Elizabeth called it. With help, she'd dealt with the nightmares and she was in much better health. She still did her best to watch her actions carefully though. She had realized that scaring the criminals senseless was actually lowering the crime rate by leaps and bounds. Turns out that the prospect of a fire-breathing dragon biting your throat out is a very effective deterrent. So she worried less about scaring them. She still worried about her family though. What if she hurt them by accident? This issue weighed heavily on her mind. However, it was pushed aside for a time by a new thought.

Love'll do that to you.

It would be the multiverse's cosmic punchline to make Elizabeth fall in love with a guy that needed a stepladder to look her in the eye. And it didn't help that he was way outta her league. Or so she thought. Her assumptions were actually very unfounded and Elizabeth soon had herself a lovely new boyfriend. 

Ahkmenrah and his museum made Elizabeth's worries a little less, worrisome. But she was still afraid. Ahk was so small and fragile compared to her.....

The moment of truth came sooner than Elizabeth would have liked. A band of mercenaries had broken into the museum, and had soon found that they had gotten more than they bargained for. Elizabeth was having fun galavanting around chaining them to the walls and the floor, cackling all along the way, when she heard a yelp. She ran to the source and saw a mercenary, with a dagger to Ahk's throat. It was digging into his neck and she could see a little bead of blood leak out.

That was all it took. Dragons don't take kindly to their mates being injured. Elizabeth went ballistic. She charged forward and knocked the man away from Ahk. With an earsplitting roar, she grabbed the mercenary and threw him into the wall. Hard. The man fell limp to the floor. Before Ahk could say anything, Elizabeth bounded off looking for the remaining mercenaries.

 It was over in minutes, every intruder had been rounded up, and they sat in a group, shaking in terror. Elizabeth snarled. These, cretins dared threaten her home? Her sanctuary? HER MATE?! No, they would pay...... but

not by her hand. The justice system would sort them out. Elizabeth could hear Ahk and the rest of the museum behind her. She knew what kind of a sight she made.

Jaw unhinged, teeth and claws extended, her scales bristling, and her hair, eyes and markings glowing ominously in the dim light. Now she'd done it. They knew now.

Just like everybody else. Elizabeth, the monster for all to see. She turned around tentatively. There were gasps and screams. Teddy was standing in front of Sacagawea, Larry doing the same for Nicky, Atilla and the Huns with their weapons drawn, and the miniatures frozen in shock and terror. Elizabeth's eyes came to rest on Ahk. A look of understanding crossed his face. He finally knew why Elizabeth was so guarded when she talked about her powers, and her world. Her saw the look of defeat and resigned sadness in her eyes. His fingers brushed against the small cut on his neck. And suddenly it was clear.

Elizabeth was a dragon. For all intents and purposes, that's what she was. And dragons were known to protect their treasures. Could it be that perhaps Elizabeth's greatest treasure, was him? Her family, the museum, him, all of these were the things that Elizabeth saw in her nightmares. Her killing them. Elizabeth's worst fear was that she'd destroy her greatest treasures. Ahk looked at the frightened exhibits and felt a pang of regret. If only he had known.....

Ahkmenrah loved Elizabeth more than life itself. He could never be afraid of her. While the others might see a monster, he saw his beloved, protecting them. She was fearsome, yes, but the armies of Egypt and Rome inspired great fear as well! Indeed, there were far more gruesome and terrible things in the world. Elizabeth was beautiful him, no matter what.

Elizabeth continued to stand, she didn't know what else to do really. Then she saw movement. Ahk was walking towards her. Elizabeth backed up a bit, but then stopped when she saw that Ahk was still walking forward. When he was directly in front of her, he grabbed one of her hands, careful of claws, and put his other hand on her face. He ran his thumb along the the corner of her mouth, now stretched along her face to accommodate her jaw's new position. He pulled her down to his level and kissed her.

Elizabeth was shocked, most people could barely look at her when her jaw was unhinged, and yet Ahk was kissing her! She kissed back, and squeezed his hand. When the two broke apart, Ahk noticed an odd noise. Elizabeth was growling. It was a soft, low growl, and it almost sounded like...........purring? It was a more feral sounding noise, but it was purring alright. Ahk once again was blown away with how fast Elizabeth could go between being fearsome, and being adorable.

Seeing that Elizabeth didn't bite Ahk's face off, the rest of the exhibits became more at ease. Nicky ran over demanding to know how the jaw thing worked, Atilla was vehemently denying that he was scared, and the miniatures started yelling at Elizabeth for scaring them. She smiled and apologized to everyone, and she and Ahk went back to his exhibit to rest.

For years, Elizabeth was afraid of herself. She didn't want to hurt the ones she loved. But finally she could see that she'd never hurt them. She was better than that. She wasn't a monster. She was a dragon, and she'd protect her family from anything. 

She used to think that included her, but now at last, she knows better.

[sarahime]

Abnormalities

It was supposed to be a normal day for Izdihar. Doing her normal get-ready-to-school routine, having a normal conversation with her classmates and walking through her normal route to buy her favorite bread at the school’s canteen.

Until she encountered abnormality in the form of five humans, which sent her and them to detention after school. That’s when Izdihar was forced to grow accustomed to abnormalities in her life.

She was walking light-heartedly to school while listening to her favorite song by BTS. Disgusting if you asked me but no one asked. While she was blessed with a high-quality brain, she sure was cursed with a terrible taste in music. Being the friendly girl she is, she greeted almost everyone on her way to class not realizing some of them didn’t want to be greeted by her. To some, she might be a daily dose of happiness. But to others – a small number of people really – she’s just a nuisance and too bright for no reason. And that others included Sarah. The Loner. The Outcast.

Sarah hates school. She hates herself even more. But she has never hated something so much to the extent she wants to kill someone. Which is new because she always wants to kill herself first. Being a loner in school, it’s almost a given to be hated by everyone despite not doing anything deserved to be hated. She never knew why people didn’t talk to her or sit with her. It was stressing her so much the first few months, but eventually, she grew accustomed to the treatment and actually liked the isolation. It was almost a normal thing to be left out and not be included in any human interactions.

Upon seeing and hearing Izdihar’s cheerful greeting, Sarah’s stoic expression turned into a scowl. Izdihar saw this and she almost got hurt but the feeling disappeared as soon as it appeared.

Well, that’s an outcast for you. Apparently, Izdihar’s not that nice. Bitch. (personal opinion).

School started as usual and everybody groaned.  Fuck school. I'm not gonna sit another second with this imbeciles, thought a lone student called Mira. Now Mira….she’s a rare case I refused to elaborate. A rare species that everyone seemed to adore but too scared to approach her, for everyone had witnessed how ridiculously powerful she was. What happened? It remained as the greatest history that happened in their school.

Contrary to Sarah, Mirah is not exactly an outcast. Her existence was not ignored like Sarah. People acknowledged her presence but simply too intimidated to get close to her. But this bitch enjoyed this treatment. She wanted to be left alone. She chose this life. Tired from walking too much, Mirah rubbed her forehead with her palms and decided to skip class. She just arrived though, but some people are stupid like that. And Mirah is exactly the epitome of that.

Izdihar was walking towards her classroom and busying herself with putting fake smiles to greet people when she accidentally bumped into Mirah, the school’s emo girl. Izdihar quickly apologized fearing for her life. Oh my god. I don’t want to get on her bad side. Not that she has a good side though! Izdihar fearfully thought as she profusely apologized to Mirah. Mirah was about to smack that loud girl on her head but she remembered how much she hated having skinship with imbeciles, which in this case, Izdihar (and herself to be honest, but this is personal opinion).

She rolled her eyes and bumped her shoulder with Izdihar’s but she pathetically stumbled back because of Izdihar’s firm posture and raw strength.

Bitch got some muscles huh, she thought. Not to look more pathetic than she already was, she just walked away while muttering some profanities, which didn’t go unnoticed by Izdihar. Heaving a sigh of relief, she proceeded to her seat. Just before she sat though, she suddenly got goosebumps on her neck as if her whole body was alarming her of what’s about to come.

What is this feeling? I feel scared all of sudden like my death is nearing

Oh, how wrong she was. It’s not death but it’s worst.

It’s Juan, the class clown, greeted her happily and loudly as if Izdihar was at another country. The former slapped Izdihar’s back which is her normal way of greeting people. There’s nothing normal about Juan though. Izdihar being the nice girl she was only smiled and laughed like a foolish person.

In truth, Izdihar secretly hated her company. Not that Juan cared though. The girl believed her existence was to bring a daily dose of annoyance to people. That explained why she never bothered to apologize or care whenever people confronted her about her attitude.

Juan was about to do another of her shitty jokes and Izdihar dreaded that very much. Thankfully, their teacher came in and saved her day. She had never felt so thankful for the teacher. It was also the first time she prayed for her, God bless your kindness Teacher. You just unknowingly saved my ass and ears.

The lesson started and Izdihar relished in the peaceful moment. While it lasted because little did she know, her life was about to get CHAOTIC.

***

Izdihar’s favorite time finally approached and that is lunchtime. She was literally hopping like a wild bunny being chased by wolves except she was chased by desire. To eat. Being in the state of delirious, she didn’t even greet the people around her like she normally did and continue skipping towards the canteen. Upon entering the space, her wolf side came out and she almost growled hungrily as she marched towards her favorite stall.

The bakery and sweets stall. It had all her favorite baked goods. Hypnotized by the beautiful sight of delicacies, Izdihar didn’t notice the sudden commotion that occurred in the canteen.

Meanwhile, Sarah was peacefully eating her lunch at HER table while watching her favorite anime. But her peaceful moment was interrupted by a boisterous laugh from a group of students walking towards the canteen. She rolled her eyes, already knew to whom the voice belonged to.

It’s none other than the school’s (self-proclaimed) queenka’s a.k.a Fatihah. The most popular girl in the school. Also, the most annoying shithead Sarah has ever met. Not that she has met many people but she doesn’t need to meet many humans to know that the lass is the most annoying human. It’s a given just by her appearance. Just like how it’s a given for her to be a loner just from her looks. Ouch

In the corner of Sarah’s eyes, she saw another group of students. Another annoying bunch of shitheads, she thought.

Nina and her friends. Or fiends. Nevertheless, Sarah thought Nina and her friends were bearable compared to Fatihah’s. The former was much more…stupid while the latter well they’re simply loud and annoying. She found herself kept repeating the word annoying a lot as she observed both groups but she couldn’t help it. That’s the most accurate adjective to describe both.

Anyway, no one really asked for her reviews really. It was all a mere observation of a loner at the corner of the canteen. It might as well be a bitter thought from her perspective because you know, LONER.

As the realization hit her, she packed her lunch and headed out of the canteen. However, she was stopped when a sudden commotion occurred. Not wanting to be involved with another worldly interaction, she continued only to be stopped again when her route was blocked by a….CORPSE?

What the fuck?

Her eyes widen in surprise - unlike her knowledge and perspectives – at the sudden discovery. She was about to kick the body and continue walking – as if seeing a corpse was her daily routine. Just kidding. Unless? – when her body was shoved harshly by a sudden force. Being the weak person she is her body almost flew to another century. She fell with a loud thud and she swore at least one of her fragile bones broke. Irritatingly she looked up and saw a fuming creature. It was at that moment she hoped her Lasik surgery failed her.

Fatihah was fuming for whatever reason and oh god she’s even more annoying and ugly up close, Sarah angrily thought. The former stomped her feet and marched towards the corpse, which Sarah later recognized as Nina’s body.

Wait. She’s dead? That was quick. And convenient.

“I know you’re the one who sells me off to the teachers. BITCH” came Fatihah’s ear-piercing voice, which Sarah swore if it’s not for her earphones blocking her ears, she would be DEAF.

This motherf***** sure has a loud voice.

Nina, who was comfortably lying on the floor after being pushed by Fatihah’s raw force, laugh mockingly at the seething lass.

“pfft. What bullshit are you spouting? Stop talking like you have no brain. Which I doubt you have one” Nina replied while standing up and dusting off any dirt. Not realizing she’s a dirt herself. Just kidding.

“What the fuck did you say. Just because you’re ranked one place higher than me doesn’t mean you’re smarter than me. Bitch I was being kind and let you have that place” Fatihah retorted with angry veins threatened to pop. Sarah hoped they popped so she can just walk her normal route to class peacefully.

“Didn’t regard you as someone kind. Thought you as just some dumbass who got last place” Nina encountered

Now Sarah being the spectator of this intense drama could only think one thing. They’re both stupid. What the hell are they fighting for?

As they were all intensely involved in the useless verbal fight, both parties did not realize that they were blocking the path to the canteen. People were slowly gathering to witness the biggest fight of the century between the two most popular girls in their school. Among these people, stood an emotional being who just woke up from an interrupted nap due to the blaring sound of the school’s bell. It was none other than Mira. She was already annoyed as it was for being interrupted from her undeserving nap, now she was faced with too many humans in one area. Not to mention the loud cheering that worsened her headache. She was growing irritated and nothing good comes out from an irritated Mirah.

Cursing under breath as if that’s the only language she knew, she stormed towards the crowd and pushed them so hard they might fly to another century. Blinded by anger, she couldn’t see the figures in front of her and harshly collide into that figure. Her body instantly fell and she cursed again. At this point that really is the only language she knows because fuck she was getting really annoyed. But her opponent wasn’t anyone. It’s the school’s queenka, Fatihah this bitch again.

“OI. ARE YOU BLIND OR WHAT? CAN’T YOU SEE WHERE YOU’RE WALKING” Fatihah literally yelled at Mirah. Upon realizing the fact that she was being yelled at, she sprung up to her legs and glared at the former with a glare she was sure Donald Trump would tremble in fear if he ever were to witness it. But Fatihah was an equally powerful opponent she realized that a bit later.

“You’re blocking the fucking way. Who’s the blind one here.” It was more of a statement than a question.

Now things were getting more intense and interesting. High school students definitely enjoy this kind of thing. Their dull life needs excitement and entertainment and what’s better entertainment than seeing high school fights. Between girls at that.

While all of these were happening, Izdihar was still busying herself with picking her favorite bread and muffins. When she finally bought all the foods she needed, she turned around and skipped through the crowd happily. All of sudden, she was pushed and her world turn upside down literally. Her world being her favorite bread and muffins.

They were all scattered and destroyed due to the foreign force from being pushed. Izdihar can almost feel it, the breaking of her heart. She could feel the pain and her eyes stinging, a sign a tsunami was about to occur on her eyes, as she saw her disfigured muffins. She almost choked.

She almost broke. She’s already broke financially. She can’t afford to be broken emotionally.

No. fucking no. I'm gonna avenge your death Mr.Muffin and Bread.

Fatihah, Nina and Mirah , even the whole school didn’t know what’s coming for their asses and throats. No one makes Izdihar upset. Because an upset Izdihar is the biggest catastrophe and abnormality the school will ever experience.

[bravevulnerability]

astle is picking up feminine products for Alexis or Martha (depending upon what age you want him to be) when some teenage boys start teasing him about it. Kate overhears and decides to pretend she is his girlfriend, kisses him on the cheek and thanks him for holding her stuff. (Not myn)

A/N: I get the impression that this was potentially meant as an AU meeting idea, but I hope this is still acceptable!

Set post 3x12, ‘Poof! You’re Dead”.

-

After their comfort food truck dinner, the urge to extend the evening, to refrain from telling her good night is almost visceral, desperate, and the excuse to remain with her awhile longer presents itself in the form of a text message from his daughter.

“Hey, do you mind if we stop by the drugstore on the way to my place, Alexis just texted me and wants me to pick something up for her,” Castle asks as they slide into her cruiser, internally delighted when Beckett nods her assent without hesitation. 

“Sure, is there a particular store she prefers?”

“Nah, anything on the way will work,” he assures her, buckling up while she starts the engine. 

They alternate between small talk and comfortable silence through the drive that takes longer than it should due to traffic, everything about this evening with her a comfort, and that single, dramatized word from his mother flashes through his mind.

He never would have thought something so simple could hold the magic he’d been looking for. 

Kate comes into the store with him, but they part ways for a bit while he wanders towards hygiene, striding towards the feminine products with familiar ease, glancing back to the text from Alexis on his phone to ensure he buys the right brand.

He hears the snicker of voices when he plucks the box of tampons from the shelf, catches sight of the two teenage boys peering at him from the other end of the aisle, cracking up as he snags another box to keep in stock. It doesn’t bother him, never has, but he does roll his eyes at the immaturity. 

“Hey, man, are you sure you got the right box?” one of them calls out. 

“Yeah, sure your girl doesn’t need the supers?” the other teases, but Castle merely nods. 

“I’m good, thanks.”

“You might want to take some of those mini diaper things too, the ones with the wings,” the first chuckles.

“You know, I might. I hear they’d be crucial for bandaging wounds in a zombie apocalypse,” Castle muses, his late nights of binging doomsday prepping shows coming in handy, but the two boys only laugh harder at him. 

“This dude’s pathetic,” he catches one of them get out through his amusement, and the words don’t hurt him - as if he’s going to care what some uneducated, fifteen year olds who spend their free time in a drug store think - but the memories of his own grade school years, before he figured out his niche as the class clown, it elicits are less than appreciated.

Rick checks his phone one more time, texts Alexis to be sure she doesn’t need anything else before he goes to find Beckett and check out, but he pauses at the touch of a hand to his shoulder just as he’s about to press ‘send’.

“Hey, babe,” Beckett hums at his side, her other arm twining through his and the scent of her perfume infiltrating his senses. 

Castle’s eyebrow arches, but it’s nothing compared to the spike of his heart rate when she leans into his side, plants a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“Thanks for holding my stuff,” she murmurs, snagging the boxes of tampons, dropping them into the small basket she’s acquired. 

He doesn’t spare a glance in their direction, but he notices the boys at the other end of the aisle have gone quiet, and he understands.

Beckett must have overheard and now she’s teaching them a lesson.

Castle plays along with the arm he wraps around her shoulders. “Anytime.”

She smirks and tugs him out of the aisle, but keeps her arm linked through his even once he’s withdrawn his and they’re out of their audience’s sight.

“My hero,” he chuckles, relishing in the soft sound of her laughter so close to his ear.

“I hate kids like that,” she mutters, curling her fingers in the crook of his elbow. “You’re a great example of how men should act when it comes to periods.”

Castle straightens his shoulders and puffs out his chest with pride. “The perks of being a single father raising a teenage daughter.”

“Alexis is a lucky girl,” she concedes, releasing him once they reach the register. 

“I used to do the same for my mother,” he shrugs as the employee scans his items. “People just like to make a big deal out of nothing.”

He stretches past her for the candy on display before he has to swipe his card, tosses her favorite brand of chocolate into his bag of purchases, and pays for the items.

Kate hums, the smile on her face soft but illuminating her face as they walk away from the counter, and he tries not to falter as her arm slips through his once more. The warmth of her side brushing his penetrates his coat as they step out into the night, his stride slow to prolong the moment, heating his skin, his soul. 

“Any girl would be lucky to have you then.”