#and killer just makes a mental note that saying that kind of thing makes dust uncomfortable

[unknownchoatic]

the idea that Killer is really flirtatious but also super easily flustered

like when in stage 2 he’ll say the most inappropriate, sexual, disgusting thing but then if he’s in stage 1 and Color holds his hand this man is blushing and giggling and he can’t even respond. and like in stage 2 he’s trying to get a reaction bc he can’t feel emotions so he’s like kinda living vicariously through the others. and in stage 1 every little experience feels new and overwhelming

idk this made more sense in my head

[krypticcafe]

any chance for dbd killers (especially myers) reacting to a partner who wants to take the relationship real slow? how would they take it? would they push, or be respectful? patience? bonus for cuddle time 💜✨

DBD killers w/a partner who wants to take it slow

rating: teen

character(s): GN!Reader, Shape/Michael Myers, Ghostface/Danny "Jed" Olsen, The Executioner/Pyramid Head, The Cannibal/Bubba Sawyer, Legion/Frank Morrison

warning(s): suggestive themes, canon-typical violence and behavior, language

a/n: pardon the unannounced hiatus, cue the usual fanfic writer life drama, gonna be dusting off the request box :]

Michael

Thank. GOD. He's not gonna say it, but Michael's beyond relieved because he's just not comfortable jumping into things, or anything at all. He likes consistency, not change, so he really needs the time to even just adjust to the fact that he's actually letting this relationship happen (no offense). Even the first time he let you live, he felt all irritated about it because it just felt wrong. But after he saw you leave med packs for him from time to time, lurk behind him while he was off chasing others, he started to grow a little more lenient towards you, much to your pleasure.

After you see the approval in his eyes, you're relieved, too. It's not that you thought Michael wouldn't take the suggestion well, it's that it was the first time you two were seriously discussing your relationship. Neither of you put a label on yourselves, you just both knew that you liked each other a little more than you did with other people. Kind of like a silent agreement.

But now you take confidence in knowing you can be as slow as you want with him, after all, you both have all of eternity to work it out, or at least until the Entity decides to do something about it. Though seeing as they haven't stopped you so far, you're probably fine for now.

It's a long time until you guys show any actual physical affection. The closest it's been is Michael getting revenge on people who use you as bait and grabbing your wrist to pull you to a safe spot while you help clean his gear during visits in between matches and lean on him or he holds you in his lap while sitting in comfortable silence (you've caught him falling asleep on a few occasions).

Expect it to take a while more if you guys actually want to get intimate, he's just too much of a 'business first' guy.

All in all, mission success.

Danny

"Like how slow?"

You should've expected this. While Michael is relieved, Danny, well, he doesn't take it as well. He's one of the clingiest of all the killers and makes it difficult not to be paranoid all the time of someone finding out. He's a hands-on type of guy and this... is kind of torture for him.

After some insistence and some pleading on your side, he'll give in, but it's not guaranteed. He has to resist his urges like some little kid trying not to open Christmas presents a day early. All day, every day, he's just thinking about smothering you in his touch, and it gets him frustrated (in both ways), so he has to take it out somehow.

You can literally see it in real-time when he's cutting through survivors like butter, not even bothering to act playful or make quips, just snarling and hissing at them like a feral cat. You make a mental note to give him a bit of something after the match, like a kiss or some cuddle time.

Other than that, he whines. A lot. Like it's so fucking annoying please make him shut up with a kiss or something, the killers can't stand hearing him bitch incoherently and you can only take so much of it as well. Also, he's a manipulative ass to expect him to be pushy and try to pressure you here and there.

It's kinda funny though, in a way you sorta conditioned him to feel even more euphoric when you do anything romantic with him. He's asking, no, begging for extra kisses, holding you real tight when you cuddle, and you swear you can feel him melting under your touch. Heart eyes and all, he's so obsessed with you.

Whenever you let him know you're ready to move things forward, expect him to be a little overexcited about it. Like if you finally let him get in your pants, he's gonna work you like there's no tomorrow, all that pent-up energy is flooding out the door.

I'm sorry, but you're literally caging an animal by asking *the* Ghostface to take it slow. He's only gonna get more hungry over time.

Pyra

Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think he cares. Like he's fine taking it as slow as you want, it's not a huge deal to him, and really, he has no room for judgment outside of killing people. You'll ask and he'll respond with the usual metallic grunt and boom. Problem solved.

In all honesty, it's probably good to take it slow with him if you want a nice, loving relationship with him. Because of his lack of experience, fast-paced relationships might just be too much for him to deal with, but taking your time lets him process how it even works. Dates, kissing, and anything beyond that aren't in his area of expertise, nor did he ever expect it to be, it's not his primary purpose.

This allows him to welcome something new in his life for once beyond the mundane life of Silent Hill and the matches in the realm of the Entity. He's not used to actually having personal priorities, so the adjustment period progresses along with your relationship. He's quick to find out that he really likes physical contact with you, too.

Most likely you'll be taking the initiative with him, teaching him the little things you like to do like cuddling and holding each other close. He really likes that, being able to just envelope you and keep you safe and close in such a comfortable manner.

I don't he exactly has a concept of... 'horny', it's more of a hunger I guess? A hunger to be close and in your presence, so he kinda has times when he'll stick to your side like a big old scary guard dog. If you wanna indulge him a little, go ahead.

Yeah, I can't really say much for him other than it is what it is.

Bubba

He tries his best to be patient, he really does. Bubba's more than understanding about it, because he's already elated that you love him back in the first place! Though sometimes he just really wants to pepper your face in kisses and smother you in love, pick you up and swing you around in his arms, take you to some of the nicer parts of the Entity's realm, he almost forgets they all live in some sick game.

Horrible advice, but try not to be so... cute around him. I like to think he has cuteness aggression, so it's very hard to keep his hands to himself when you look so... so... nope, no, Bubba, focus, you're supposed to be chasing Ace right now- oooo but don't wanna just eat them up and make them yours!

He wants to do so much with you but it's kind of for the best to keep him from rushing into things. Even he's a little worried that he'll tire you out from his eagerness to get things moving. Hell, he even spooked himself when he found himself daydreaming about marrying you mid-match. He can't help it though, it's the southern love in him that gets him all antsy (he thinks you'd look very nice in a suit or dress if you're wondering).

Yeah, and don't think you don't know either, not when he's humming "Here Comes the Bride" while sawing up Kate in halves in front of you.

Oh, and you thought the wedding fever was bad? Wait until the baby fever kicks up. Since day one of falling in love with you, this man has been dreaming of church bells, vows, cribs, pacifiers, and all that. He's never told you it in full detail but you just know he does. Whether you want it for your relationship or not, he still loves you nonetheless.

Despite it all, you help remind him to appreciate what's in the moment, that you both have an eternity together in damnation to get to that point. So long as time and the Entity are on your side, he's more than happy to take things slow with you and he'll be sure to enjoy every moment you have together.

Frank

"You're joking, right?"

No surprise here either, Frank doesn't take it all too well. He's an impatient bastard and mostly thinks with his dick more than his head sometimes. To be honest, he never even anticipated getting into a relationship with you. He thought most of the survivors were annoying and unlikable in their own ways, he even found you irritating at some point just not as much as the others, or so he'd claim.

You try to explain to him why and unfortunately, it does result in a back and forth between you two, the other members of Legion even chiming in on your defense. It's until you point into his face that you both literally have forever in this endless hell so "what's the big deal about us taking our time" and for him to just think about it for a bit.

And yeah he does, but it takes a while for Frank to wrap his head around it. He's used to just getting what he wants, jumping into things headfirst, and figuring out the details from there. His whole philosophy defies normalcy, defies everything he hates about Ormond and the banal, suburban society it is. He lives for the rush, the excitement, the recklessness. Time and care in a relationship remind him too much of a "normal life".

But the others remind him there's nothing normal about where they are now. Hell, they get to wreak havoc and chaos in the trials, it's everything they dreamed of. Making a statement for themselves. And frankly (no pun intended), he likes you a little too much to let it go. So instead of rushing himself into things, he finds a new thrill in testing the limits. He teases you with lingering touches and suggestive remarks, leaves you wanting, craving just a little more of that.

He clicks his tongue, "I thought we were taking it slow?"

That little bitch. He's got you wrapped around his finger and you know it. But don't think you're the only one aching, no. Call him a sadomasochist because it's practically killing him too, how much he has to hold back. Yet it's such a rush, keeping his hands to himself and itching for the day when you let him do whatever. He. Wants.

[someverygaymoth]

NIGHTMARE WITH OSDD

I love your headcanon and I'm going to take it and it into a 5-star meal🙏

May I have more please🙏😔 /nf

I love NM with OSDD!!! Yay!!! Free ramble pass!!!!

There are so many good options for this. I'm gonna go with fuzzy system of 5, where Nightmare(the corruption) is their host, Night(little guy before the apple whoopsidoodle), Moon(the hurt, scared, grown up version of Night), Dream(little guy before the apple whoopsie doodle), and Sun(a grown up Dream. The kind of brother he wanted and needed, but never quite got.) Lots of fuzzy cofronting, lots of gray amnesia and emotional amnesia with occasional blackouts.

Silly BSP hyjinks ideas:

Nightmare worrying, trying to find one of his boys because he doesn't remember that he sent them out on a mission that morning. (Killer finds him and reminds him that Dust and Horror are out on a mission, and not to worry about them)

Horror finding out they're plural and learning that alters have different tastes??? He would be so excited to figure out everyone's favorite food!!!

Cross learns NM is plural and immediately does all the research possible so he knows he isn't accidentally being offensive, and also so he can be more helpful. (He has to be the helpfulest all the time! That's what he's good for!)(he is so mentally ill)

Killer does the research in secret and then purposefully says ignorant shit so Cross gets scandalized and NM gets to watch them argue and have a little snack on Crossy's indignance and terror. NM knows he's being annoying on purpose because he starts doing really considerate shit without being outward about it. (Bringing back a bunch of sticky notes in different shapes and colors from his missions, casually asking him how to be more helpful, wrapping him in a blanket and laying on him when he's dissociating into high hell so he's nice and grounded, or just cuddling with him while he's having a long, slow switch. Bringing him water and headache medicine once it's leveled out, catching up whoever is in front now, making sure they know they're safe...)

Dust is obscenely good at telling who's fronting. He noticed way before Nightmare told any of them. "[Shrug] Shit didn't add up," is all he says about that. Nightmare has no idea what that means, but at least Dust can tell him he's doing the hand wringing thing that Night always does when he's fronting, so he can tell who's cofronting and giving him a massive migrane. He's just very watchful.

Evil ideas:

Moon is so frightened and overwhelmingly broken, for a long time. Nightmare can tell he's near front when he starts to feel tearful and hurt seemingly without reason.

Sun lashing out at one of the boys because he feels like they're being threatened (the boys are trying to be nice to him)

Sun feels helpless in the body because he has near no control over their tentacles. He can't protect them and that's very scary for him. He doesn't like feeling out of control.

Night had a phase where he would write in books, Nightmare hated this.

Sun has a habit of trying to convince the boys to leave them because he doesn't want anyone close to them. He feels like he has something to make up for, with all that Moon went through. He feels so much pressure to be better than Dream ever was to them.

More silly to cleanse the owie:

Nightmare's system is relatively functional and stable once Sun gets off his "hurt them before they hurt us!!" Horse.

Sun has a silly lil crush on Killer that he will vehemently deny if asked about.

They're silly and I love them.

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 37

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: mentions of violence, suggestive themes

Connections

Kid had been ready to rip into you for doing something so stupid. What you did was reckless and brave and if it weren't for that stunt, he was certain that they would have taken a lot more damage. If it were anyone else, even if it were you several weeks ago, he wouldn't care. He hated that he cared. Kid hated watching you toss and turn. It reminded him of his own weaknesses and his own struggles with traumatic events in his life. He couldn't do anything to fight a foe without a form. A physical thing he could punch was so much easier. When he found out that Wire and Killer ignored your cautions, he was even more pissed. It took him a while to come around to the fact that you were a skilled captain, yet it was plain to see. They should have trusted you. Luckily for them all, you were prepared. 

It did make him grin to think that you put enough trust in him to catch you before you fell into the ocean or crashed onto the deck. He didn't like that you did it in the first place, but it was something that gave him a warm feeling on the inside. Any time he dwelled on it for too long, he got anxious. He swore that he would never keep someone he liked on the ship. Neither him nor Killer could go through another Victoria situation, and if something developed further between you and either of them, it would be a very real possibility. He knew that you could handle yourself. Still, he worried. What if there came a time you couldn't? What then? He instinctively wanted to protect you, but knew that he would be putting himself at risk if he was distracted by wondering where you were on the battlefield or if you were okay. Not to mention you would probably be pissed at him if he did and take it as an insult.

Selfishly, and against his better judgement, he wanted you to stay. It was nice to have someone like you on the ship. You were strong above all else, but you were also funny, fucked up, and a little kinky. Maybe your looks were an acquired taste for some, to him though, you were hot. He wouldn't lie, it was a huge plus to have a woman warming his bed who wasn't a whore, and not just when they were docked. Killer didn't cut it in that department, no matter what kind of panties Kid made him wear, and the girls on the ship didn't find him attractive in that way. Best of all, and some probably wouldn't be so positive towards it, you spread the love. He was certainly in a better mood when you fucked him. Killer was, too. For the rest of the day after your little dalliance with the four of them, Heat was grinning ear to ear with a pink dusting to his cheeks. Kid knew Heat really had kept your wanted poster in his room, not under his pillow as you surmised. In reality, it was worse. It was your face that Heat had done a bit of arts and crafts with and pasted onto the body of some naked lady from a magazine. Kid made a mental note to find it and show you sometime. They had bullied him relentlessly for it. And dare he say, even Wire was in a better mood since then, whistling in the hallway. It was such a simple thing, for a woman's touch to bring such comfort, and Kid was grateful for it if it meant his officers, his friends, felt some form of happiness. Jerking off was one thing, but having something soft to hold and talk to was entirely different. Killer said it had something to do with 'mommy issues' but Kid refused to listen to this theory. 

It pained Kid when you screamed at the lot of them. Knowing you weren't in your right mind didn't help much. The pain in your eyes and in your voice was so vivid, he felt like he was the one that perpetrated some vile thing against you. He was sure he physically recoiled. Killer was somewhat more accustomed to it, having dealt with Kid's own nightmares and triggers. They had assumed that you went through some kind of trauma at the hands of marines. Contrary to what you thought, both of them had noticed the multitudes of scars that covered the inside of your thighs, your chest, your ass. It was clear that some of them weren't made from weapons. Some were bite marks or cigarette burns. 

Kid was uncomfortable. He didn't know how to console you. He stood awkwardly in front of you while Killer had his arm around you. Maybe he should pat your head? Say something encouraging? He ended up sighing and leaving this to Killer. Frustrated that he was useless for situations like these, he went to his workshop, which only made him feel worse, staring at where the giant hole used to be. Did he really annoy you that much? That you finally gave in and repaired the wall? 

Killer was wracked with guilt for not listening to you. He could tell you were trying to be good by not arguing with him and that you were slighted that neither he nor Wire trusted your instincts. If he had only listened, you wouldn't be in this state right now. The tears had finally stopped. The sleeve of his shirt thoroughly soaked with them. You pressed into his side, like you wanted to meld into him and disappear. He felt you take deep breaths to calm yourself. 

"Do you want to take a bath?" Killer prompted. "It might make you feel better." 

"Shower's fine." Your voice came out gravelly. You agreed that the warm water would make you feel better. If you hadn't just woken up, a good hard cry was usually followed by a good hard nap.

When you were done, Killer was in his room with a bowl of soup waiting for you. The warmth soothed your throat as you ate. 

"I apologize for not listening to you," he said.

You studied him briefly, deciding what to say. It didn't matter what you said. What's done is done. You weren't an officer on this ship, so you shouldn't have expected to be treated like one. "Apology accepted."

"If it makes you feel better, Kid yelled at us."

That piqued your curiosity. "Did he now?" A weak smile graced your lips. "That does make me feel better."

"Don't be a wise-ass. He's gonna yell at you, too."

"For what?!"

"For doing something batshit insane!"

"What does he care?"

"He cares," Killer lowered his voice, unsure if he should have said that. 

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Do you care?"

"Of course I care. I care about everyone on this ship."

You hummed. "I think I'm through being a crybaby for today. The pity party is over."

"It's okay to cry you know. You can take your time getting back to work." 

"I'm fine, Killer. Thanks though." You weren't going to argue with him. It wasn't okay to cry, not in your book. You were already ashamed that they saw you in that state. Full-on sobbing and having a semi-mental breakdown in front of Kid and Killer was inexcusable to you. How were they supposed to see you as strong and a worthy member of the Kid Pirates if you did shit like that?

You went to the infirmary, figuring you would have to tidy up, but also because you wanted to see Mini. Before you went in, you hesitated by the door to Kid's workshop, wondering if you should tell him you were back on service. Killer would probably let him know. There wasn't much to clean up, to your shock. Someone had probably cleaned it after taking care of the wounded. You did feel a bit guilty for being unavailable to do your actual assigned job. 

There was a knock at the door. You weren't expecting anyone, least of all, Wire. The tall man ducked through the doorway. Often, you wondered how you would look in his outfit. Mesh bralette, leather hot pants, fishnets. You could definitely get behind it. It was rare to see on a man, but he pulled it off. It would look better on you, in your opinion. He didn't say anything as he came up to you and you couldn't read him.

"Can I help you?" You said cautiously.

"We should have listened to you. I'm sorry."

"I don't know if Heat or Killer asked you to come here, but you don't have to apologize to me if you're just doing it to appease them." It was fine. You were over it.

He looked angry for a second. "No one asked me. I'm apologizing to you, so accept it or don't. I don't care." 

"Oh." That took you aback. "Accepted then."

He stood there uneasily, like there was something more he wanted. 

"Is there.... something else?" 

"I don't hate you." 

Your eyebrow went up.

"You think I hate you, but I don't. I was...am... distrustful of you."

"I think that's fair." You would be the same way, though you didn't presume he would tell you to your face.

A look of relief flashed over his face. He must have thought you would be mad or something, also fair, since you tend to react with fists. 

"How much more pussy do you need to trust me?"

His face went entirely red. "Wha-? I don't- That's not why I came here." 

"I'm teasing. Kind of..." You said the last bit under your breath. "Lighten up."

"Actually... I also wanted to say... um the other day... I don't think those things of you either." 

"The marine whore bit?" You smirked. "I know. You were playing your part well and I did literally ask for that." You continued, "You know I never fucked marines? Only pirates."

Wire was amused by the factoid. "Why?"

Shrugging, "Felt dangerous I guess?"

Wire nodded in understanding. "Now that you're a pirate, will you fuck marines?" He was fucking with you.

"So they can wow me with their prowess in missionary and ability to never make a woman cum? I'll pass."

Wire shook his head disapprovingly and ducked back out of the infirmary. 

No one else came to visit you. Out of boredom, you pressed your ear to the wall, trying to see what Kid was up to. You heard things banging around in there a while ago. The only thing you could make out was the extra loud cursing whenever he fucked up or hurt himself. That made you smirk. What a dumbass. Turning your attention to Mini, you flopped down by the boar. She grunted in agreement. She was bored too. 

"I need to practice more with my fruit." You scratched her head. "Wanna fight or something?" There was absolutely no way you were cleared medically to do that, but who was gonna tell you no? You were the doctor.

Now was the perfect time to spar. You were still full by the time dinner came around. While everyone was enjoying dinner, you and Minerva took up the sparring deck. For a warmup, you grabbed her tusks and tried to push her backwards. Your efforts didn't budge her and when she actually pushed, you were knocked flat on your back. Using your fruit to augment your muscles, you tried again. This time you could move her, but you were still knocked flat when she pushed back. There were some other things you wanted to try with your fruit, but you wanted to wait until you had more test subjects in case it whatever you did was irreversible. You stepped up your strength in small increments until you could match Minerva's full strength.  The issue was your body couldn't support that much extra musculature, reduced to exhaustion in only a few minutes, so you undid most of it. Instead, you picked up a spear and sparred with Minerva that way. That way, you could both build skills, remembering how to fight with a spear for you, and learning how to avoid a spear for her. Next time she encountered a spear, she would know how to avoid it. The session was over after you were both tired and locked in a stalemate. 

Sighing, you went to the main mast. It looked the same as it always had. Felt the same, too. If only you could access that same power whenever you wanted. Maybe the only limits on your power were mental. The rules for your power were kind of self-made, when you were trying to figure out what you could and couldn't do. But that didn't mean those were actually the rules. You were sick of rules. You followed enough as a marine. 

You made your way to the bow of the ship, to sit in the skull. Taking out your eye, you checked the log pose needles. They still pointed in the same direction. Giemsa's didn't move anymore. You found yourself checking less and less. There were still a handful days until you got out of Big Mom's territory. One more guard post. Though word would have gotten out now that they were sailing through these waters and that many of her crew had fallen to the sword of the Kid Pirates. It wouldn't be easy. 

"Not hungry?" Heat's voice came from next to you. 

"Nah."

"You okay?" 

You nodded.

"Mind if I join you here?"

"You're already doing it."

He sat down next to you. 

You scooted closer to him and leaned against his shoulder. If he was gonna be here, might as well keep you warm. "You're so hot." 

"Thanks. So are you." His mind short-circuited not expecting the sudden compliment. 

You pulled away and looked at him with your head cocked. "I meant like temperature hot."

A blush rose to his cheeks. "I knew that." 

"Heat, you dog." You decided that the cure to your boredom would be flustering Heat. "Are you trying to fuck me?" 

"I'm abstinent." 

"Yeah you really abstained the other day." You moved to face him, hands on his knees, leaning forward.

"It's a new thing." He was grinning. 

You acted like you were going to kiss him, giving him a peck on the cheek last second. "That's okay. I respect your choices. We can just be friends." You snickered when you heard the tiniest whine, returning to your spot next to him. Leaning against him again, you asked him, "We are friends, right?"

"Yeah?" He didn't know what you were getting at.

"I didn't know if the other day... if it messed things up. I like having you as a friend."

He put his hand on your knee. "Why would you think that? Friends fuck all the time. Well, maybe not all the time, but you get it." 

"I don't." You looked at him sheepishly. "I never really had friends. Or if I did once, they're probably dead." 

"So that would make me your first friend, and, by default, your best friend."

"Don't say that too loudly. Quincy will fight you on that." You laughed. "I guess it's true though. You were the first person that was nice to me."

Heat put his arm around your shoulders, keeping you nice and toasty in the crisp sea breeze. Doubtless, talking to him got you out of the weird mood you had been in. The two of you enjoyed the soft rocking of the ship, watching the reflection of the stars in the water until it was time to retreat back to your own cabins for the night. 

Next Chapter

[koreposion]

Ghghb auto correct- sorry-

It meant to say headcannons-

Ohhhh! Yeah I gots tons of those, so I'm just gonna rattle off some.

-Killer doesn't like sweets but keeps them on hand for Dust. He does love spicy stuff and actually carries seasoning on hand that's just super hot. However he never uses it on anything Horror cooks.

-Dust has a sweet tooth because it reminds him a lot about Horror, and so whenever he's out on missions by himself he'll have some candy on hand. It helps calms him down and focus.

-Horror has a skirt that is made to carry endless snacks and such. It was a gift from Nightmare and he wears it out when their missions are more on the paperwork side than murder.

-Cross hates cooking that isn't his own or Horror's. He's so used to prepackaged food and like... supplements, so now that he doesn't have to eat that all the time he only wants to eat food he knows is good. So he doesn't like fast food.

-Cross and Killer don't really NEED Horror to be there for them to fall asleep. It's just that it's easier with Horror there. Dust can sleep anywhere as long as someone is there with him.

-Nightmare loves to take care of everyone much like Horror does. It's just that his way is more subtle. Small reminders or notes, recommendations, he gives them something to do with their hands, he loves to make things for them. He's secretly trying to learn how to cook, and often captures Swap to help him with it.

-Nightmare loves taking naps with everyone there, it's a cat nap and he has a big pile pillows and covers to rest on. He feeds off of Cross and Dust's distaste for sleep. And starves any of Horror's nightmares

-Horror has nightmares but refuses to talk to anyone about them. When anyone tries, it's a hard stop even Nightmare doesn't talk about it. It's not that he doesn't trust them or anything, it's just that he refuses to let the people who worry about him the most worry more. God Forbid Cross finds out that him doing paperwork actually scares the living hell out of Horror. Or that Dust's listlessness makes his stomach drop, and he worries about Dust Falling Down. Killer's lack of care for himself makes him twitch. The fear of abandonment overall makes him lightheaded

-Killer has hiding spots everywhere, and also places traps everywhere. So whenever they go out on missions Killer is actually more stealthy than expected. He also loves setting up traps of any kind mentally and physically.

-Horror has magic that mirrors the process of trapping and trading, so like, he has bear traps that he can set up and that alerts him when triggered. Same for rope traps, wood traps. He has magical tools for skinning and collecting meat. His claws have different levels of sharpness that makes it easy for him to harvest.

That's just some of it!

[heejinnien]

bts | roses chapter two

word count: 1.8k words

pairing: bts x reader

synopsis: y/n is a member of the seoul behavioral analysis unit. usually, she’s the cat in the typical game of cat and mouse played with the criminals they catch, but when a mysterious string of murders has her on edge, she discovers she’s caught the attention of one of a dangerous criminal — and he’s determined to make her pay for it.

or, not all attention is the good kind.

genre: horror, angst

warnings: yandere themes, descriptions of gore, descriptions of violence, murder, the reader carries a gun because they need to defend themself against bad guys, guns, manipulation, victim blaming, this is overall just a very dark fic

author’s note: i’m sorry this isn’t as long as the other chapters but when i cut the fic into different parts i didn’t split it evenly sksks. like before, the “terms used throughout this fic” section of the masterlist was updated to include terms in this chapter. if you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to shoot me an ask or dm, or just let me know your thoughts! i would be happy to explain things to you, and i would also love to hear your feedback or who you think is suspicious. as always, adhere to the warnings and do not read if any of those things trigger you.

roses masterlist

“Are you sure you didn’t see anyone?”

Hoseok sits beside you as officers swarm the small hotel room and the hallway outside it, dusting for fingerprints, searching for any traces of the person who left the letter outside your room.

“No, I didn’t,” you reply, twisting your hands anxiously. “They knocked and I spilled some of my dinner, and by the time I cleaned it up and got to the door the hallway was empty.”

Hoseok nods, thoughtful. “We’ll get the hotel to pull up security footage.”

You both sit in silence, your thoughts swarming. You hope that Hoseok doesn’t ask why you spilled your food. Even though you know he won’t judge you, you still feel the need to present yourself as unphased by this case as the rest of your team. Admitting that you were startled because you had been so wrapped up in sentimentality would be a sign of weakness, and as a female NIS agent you know you can’t afford to show any of it.

“Where’s Namjoon?” You finally ask, voice cutting through the awkward silence that had settled around you.

“He’s back at the station already, adding this to the case notes.”

“You let him know what was happening?” You ask.

Hoseok had been the first to burst down your door, his room sharing a wall with yours and your voice having pierced through the thin wood. The rest of your team followed shortly after, local law enforcement arriving moments after that to process the scene.

“Jin did, he’s in the hallway now.” Hoseok jerks his head in the direction of the open door. Just around the corner of what you can see is where you assume Jin is. If you strain, you can hear his voice, speaking rapidly as he barks out orders to the officers around him.

You nod, bouncing your leg anxiously.

“Hey, it’ll be okay, Y/N,” Hoseok murmurs, giving you a gentle smile and leaning forward to hug you. He wraps his arms around you, enveloping you in his warmth and the soothing comfort he provides. “We’ll catch the criminal, just like we always do.”

You both remain like this for a moment before you pull away. “I’m okay, really,” you say, flashing Hoseok a smile that you hope is more reassuring than you sound. You force the fear and anxiety twisting inside you aside, refusing to let Hoseok see how shaken up you are.

As if sensing this, Hoseok searches your gaze. You force yourself to remain still, forcing the emotions that Hoseok will expect to see into your expression. Collectedness. Unbotheredness.

Hoseok hums as he drags his eyes away from yours, pushing himself to his feet.

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay, Y/N,” he says after another moment of pause.

He smiles again, but this time something dark flashes across his gaze. It passes so quickly you’re sure that with your paranoia you imagined it, and you ignore the way Hoseok’s words settle wrongly in your gut, the way that nothing feels right anymore.

“Detective Yeosang.”

You nod your head in greeting at the new detective, quickly shaking his hand and observing the empty lot around you. You cock your head to the side as you snap on a pair of blue gloves, raking your gaze over the Incheon detective.

“Where’s Detective Jaehyun?”

Yeosang gives you a tight smile, voice strained as he says, “Detective Jaehyun was removed from the case this morning for hindering an official investigation. SSA Namjoon was kind enough not to press federal charges against him, but he was still removed.”

You arch an eyebrow at the news, mildly surprised. You hadn’t been informed Jaehyun was taken off the case when your team had assembled that morning, Namjoon assigning everyone a task for the day. You wrack your brain, attempting to remember if you had seen the detective at all that morning, but you come up dry.

“What do you have on the vic?”

Your partner Jin’s voice pushes you out of your thoughts and you force yourself back to the present, returning to your mental crime scene analysis.

“The victim was found around eight this morning by a delivery truck who usually drops food off for one of the local bakeries.”

Yeosang motions for you and Jin to follow him and you do, trailing the detective as he leads you to a narrow brick alley at the edge of the lot. He steps to the side as you and Jin study the alley. The familiar scent of copper and rose makes your throat dry as your mind flashes back to your hotel room, but you close your eyes and exhale, forcing your pulse to slow down and pushing the memory into the recesses of your mind.

“There are more stab wounds than last time,” Jin points out, pointing to the victim’s chest and thighs. “The amount of blood signifies she was killed here.” Jin points to the victim’s head. “Their hair isn’t even black.”

“So the unsub is devolving,” you muse aloud. “Someone or something must have triggered him.”

Jin hums in agreement. “With how deep the stab wounds are, you would almost think that this was a different unsub than the other crimes.”

“What do you mean?” Yeosang asks, frowning. “We have two killers on our hands?”

“Doubtful,” you answer. “When an unsub devolves, they grow sloppier, leaving behind evidence they usually wouldn’t have or changing parts of their MO. In this case, the stabbing and rose are consistent, but the finer details such as the lamb’s blood are missing.”

“What would cause something like that?” Yeosang says, voice raising slightly.

“Maybe something in the unsub’s life went wrong,” Jin suggests, standing and crossing his arms. “A rejection, a loss, maybe. This means that they’ll be sloppier and keep leaving clues that hopefully we can trace back to them.”

“So we just have to wait for him to keep killing until he leads us to him?” Yeosang demands, disbelief and frustration evident in his tone.

“Of course not,” Jin says evenly, despite Yeosang’s rising hysteria. “If you detectives were so worried about the lives of your people, maybe you should have shared all of the evidence in the case with us from early on.”

“That was Detective Jaehyun’s call, not mine,” Yeosang grits out, hands clenched into fists. “I don’t appreciate what you’re implying, Agent Seokjin.”

“I’m not implying anything.”

Jin’s face is cold, tone apathetic as he addresses Yeosang. He arches an eyebrow coldly, continuing, “I’m just saying that maybe if the NIS had all of the facts for this case, we might have been able to find something by now.”

Yeosang sputters, and Jin turns away, already refocusing his attention back on the body. You give the steaming detective a sympathetic smile, bending to pick up the flower resting in the victim’s hands when your skin pricks as though it has been stabbed by the rose’s thorns. You immediately stand and whirl around, but aside from familiar police vehicles and officers, you are met with nothing. Yeosang gives you a questioning look, and you wave your hand dismissively. After another scan of the lot you turn back towards Jin, ignoring his concerned look.

Despite this, you can’t shake the feeling of being watched. 

“Y/N.”

“Namjoon.” You nod at your team’s leader as you pull out a plastic office chair, settling across from the aforementioned man.

“How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” you admit, rubbing your hands against your legs soothingly. “A little spooked, but this isn’t the first time one of us has received a note from one of our unsubs.”

“That’s true,” Namjoon muses. He spins in his chair slowly, twisting enough that you hear the creak of his chair but not enough that his body ever completely turns away from you. He steeples his hands on the mahogany desk in front of him, case files spread across the wooden surface haphazardly.

After a moment, you clear your throat. “I heard that you forced Detective Jaehyun off of this case.”

“I did,” Namjoon says slowly. “He was withholding information from this investigation.”

“I see,” you say, throat dry. Your body fills with nervous energy as you contemplate what to say. Namjoon speaks before you do.

“I was speaking with some of the other BAU members, and we’ve all agreed that the unsub seems to be targeting you.” Namjoon smiles, but it’s devoid of any friendliness. “I’m sure you’ve thought of it by now, right?”

You nod, unable to force yourself to speak, and Namjoon continues. “The NIS Director caught word of the note that was sent to you last night, and he wants you off the case. Conflict of personal interest, he said.”

“If this is about my ability to handle this case, I assure you that I can — ” You say quickly.

“I know.” Namjoon says, holding up his hand and effectively silencing your protests. “Which is why I’m not taking you off this case. But going forward we’re going to need to be honest with each other, okay?”

Somehow, you know that Namjoon is speaking on a level that transcends your current conversation. With a growing sense of dread, you are aware that Namjoon knows that Jaehyun had told you about the notes. You briefly wonder how he knows, if Jaehyun ratted you out. You clench your fists, waiting for a reprimand similar to the one Namjoon most likely gave Jaehyun for not telling your team leader earlier.

It never comes.

You stare at Namjoon silently, unsure of what to say. Seconds stretch on between you. Finally you find strength within you to nod, and Namjoon smiles sharply.

“Good. Now tell me what you and Jin found at the crime scene earlier.”

You stare at the case files, your eyes drooping.

The rest of your team left long ago, hushed whispers and a few worried glances thrown your way. You ignored them, choosing instead to concentrate on the pictures of victims in front of you until your eyes burned tiredly. No matter how much you tried, you couldn’t come up with anything linking the unsub to the victims. You feel so small, so unsure, and this makes everything you had been feeling towards the case worse.

Finally, you sigh, standing and gathering your things. You grab your phone, groaning as the time is reflected on the screen. It’s too late to hail a cab, the method of transportation you had assured the rest of your team you could use to get back to the hotel when they had left earlier.

You idly scroll through your phone’s app store, looking for a rideshare app that you can use to get back to your hotel and pushing open the precinct’s glass doors when your foot collides with something solid. You try to steady yourself, but it’s too late. 

Your hands find purchase with something warm and sticky, and it takes a moment for you to gain your bearings. When you do, your eyes land on a foot. Your eyes follow it to a leg, and then up, up, and when your eyes finally focus on the owner of the foot you scream.

It’s Taehyung.

send me an or dm if you would like to be added or removed from the taglist!

taglist: @kassrole​, @hoebii​, @biaswreckme​, @taegularities​, @moccahobi​, @scarlet2007​, @deepdarkdelights​, @birbdae​, @mieohmy​, @samros95​, @ggukkieland​

[lunewell]

The Lunewell Saga - Natura: Chapter 1

Finally, finally I can show you guys a preview of the horror book I’m publishing in October (:. You can find chapter 1 below, and if you’d prefer, you can read it on ao3 by clicking here!

Chapter 2 is now out and can be found here (:

Enjoy!

Book Sumary:

Zarifa Birch, an antique shop worker with an unusual past, has made a home for herself in the sleepy town of Lunewell. Though the shop she works at is not exactly ordinary, with cryptid items and odd occurrences, she has managed to carve the normal life she always desperately wished for out of it.

However, all that comes crumbling down, as a woman from Zarifa’s past throws everything into chaos. Faced with unimaginable horrors, seemingly unsolvable mysteries, and returning repressed feelings and memories, Zarifa along with her coworkers, must find a way to return the balance- and escape the cruel hands of death in this eldritch horror mystery.

Chapter 1:

Thorn’s Antiques and Restoration, tucked away in the tall trees that encircled the small town of Lunewell, wasn’t the place where one would expect a woman like Zarifa to work. The building was merely a converted two-story brick house, though even then the antique shop itself only operated on half of the ground floor and the basement, and the employees could consider themselves lucky if even so much as a single soul wandered in.

  From an outsider’s perspective, it made no sense. Zarifa did not originate from Lunewell, had little to no interest in antiques, and had a Bachelor’s in English of all things, whose only tie with antiques was the pompous, ivory tower assholes pestering both fields. However, if said outsider were to ask Zarifa herself, or any other of the two working in the building, why she had this job, she would have said that it was the only path she could have ever imagined herself working.

  Though even she had to admit, for as much as she loved her job, it could sometimes be… tedious. 

  Very tedious.

“How many crates of… art did we receive again?” Zarifa asked, white patched ebony fingers holding one of the many, many paintings of eerily realistic human eyes shoved haphazardly in a box. The crates had arrived this morning, heavy and worn, and were sitting in the off-white ‘employees lounge’, that only equated to a singular desk, a sofa, a microwave that never heated all the way through, and two uncomfortable plastic chairs.

 “Only two,” Bruin responded, not bothering to look up from the wooden desk, where he had his nose buried deep in a black title-less book. Zarifa would have asked what he was reading, but stares through dark thin eyes and sighs had long taught her not to. “Bought in by an Anthony Bell earlier this morning.”

  “Thank you,” Zarifa said, giving Bruin a warm smile that didn’t go noticed. She then turned to her other coworker, who had been sitting sheepishly on one of the back-destroying white chairs. “Why do we have two crates of creepy eye-paintings, again?”

  “Okay there’s actually a good reason this time boss,” Grant said hastily, chestnut brown hair messy and glasses half sliding off his face, “I was taking a walk to that cosy little bakery- you know, the one owned by that very sweet elderly couple on the other side of town, which by the way makes cakes straight from the heavens-”

  “So you were walking to the bakery, and then?” Zarifa interrupted.

  “Oh right. I had walked a little ways from the house, when I saw a white van stopped up by the road with a man looking quite pissed off outside. I went up to have a chat with him and found out he was an absolutely fascinating art major named Anthony who had run out of petrol. To make a long story short, I invited him in for a cuppa whilst he waited on the towing truck, found out he was getting rid of these absolute gems, and bought them off him.”

  Zarifa and Bruin, who had finally looked up from the pages, both stared at him. Bruin was the first to break the silence; “you bought antiques from an unverified source, in a van out of petrol, who you also invited inside my home for tea?”

  “Hey! I pay the rent too!” Grant defended, “and besides, I got, you know, the feeling off him. There was already a description of the antiques inside the box, meaning they’ve been passed around a little. If you two don’t want them here, I can take them.”

  “We can keep them,” Zarifa decided, looking at the realistic paintings once more. They were all extremely similar, each one having a blue iris and white pupils. As she moved around the box, it almost felt as though they were all following her movements. She shivered and put the lids back on; “I’ll carry this down. Grant, go open shop, and Bruin, go register these in the system, please.”

  Grant gave her a mock salute, before trudging out of the door and into the shop room, whilst Bruin nodded and turned to the big, archaic box of a computer sitting on the desk. Zarifa stacked and grabbed the two worn crates, surprisingly light in her arms, and made her way to the spiral staircase. They were narrow, seemingly ever looping steps falling into darkness that made walking down them almost impossible. She had once tried to convince Valour to install some lights over the stairs, to reveal the actual length of them and to make sure Grant would stop tumbling down into the abyss, but she had only received a stern no and an icy glare that could kill. 

  So her only options were to walk down carefully, whilst gripping onto the wall for dear life, like she was currently doing. The stairs went on for what seemed like minutes, nothing in her sight as she was swallowed in complete darkness, with no way to judge her surroundings except her shoes hitting the steps. Finally, a flickering light made its way up the stairs, and she saw the start of grey concrete.

  To say the archival basement was lit, was perhaps a bit of an overstatement. There was precisely one dim and occasionally flickering lamp in the room, slightly illuminating cobwebs glued to the walls and dusted shelves of antiquities, but not much else. However, the room was like a scorching desert sun compared to the void Zarifa had previously descended. 

  Making her way between the shelves, past the bag of hand-sewn doll-heads, slightly cracked vases, and mirrors so ladened in dust that one couldn’t see the distorted reflection anymore, she found a small group of paintings. Paintings were one of the rarer antiques for them to receive, so there was plenty of space for the two crates.

  Before slotting them in, she opened them, quickly counting the amount. There were fourteen in total, seven in each box, all in a roughly similar condition and all painted in the same way. Oddly enough, there was no signature nor name, but there was a little slip of paper at the bottom. She picked it out of the crate, and stuffed it in the pocket of her blazer, before closing the lids again.

  Zarifa slid the boxes between a painting of a single red rose titled ‘Chaos’, and a two-hundred-year-old painting titled ‘A Girl in Field’ containing a suspiciously girl-less field. There had been a debate on whether they were all just missing her, whether it was a mislabelled piece, or if it was supposed to be some kind of metaphor, but seeing as it was hardly the weirdest thing in the basement, they had all just grown to accept it. She shivered once again, the basement giving the feeling of being watched, and grabbed the golden butterfly that hung around her neck. She fiddled with the wings, every touch calming her slightly as she began making her way up the stairs. 

  The ascent up the spirals always seemed to take a considerably shorter time, perhaps because the imminent danger of falling had disappeared. Zarifa was up at the top in the blink of an eye, walking into the lounge to see both Bruin and Grant inside. Bruin turned to her from the computer; “‘Antique Eye-Painting x14’ has been written on the document,” he informed. “Did we have any other information?” 

  “I couldn’t find any signature or date on the painting itself,” Zarifa said, reaching into her blue blazer pocket and pulling the paper with a heavy brown tint out, “but there was a note accompanying it. The paper looks old enough to consider it an antique, at least.” 

  “Well, go ahead,” Grant piped up from the couch, “tell us about dear Anthony’s creepy eye pairings.” Zarifa nodded, unfolding the paper as carefully as she could, and began reading.

  ‘The Grey Man’ by Elizabeth B.- 1885

  He is watching from the water. Watching with the trees.

  Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

  The Grey Man is knocking 

“Grey Man?” questioned Zarifa, “that’s not a reference to anything, is it?”

  “Not as far as I know,” Grant said, sitting up from where he had flopped on the couch, “help us out Bruiny?” She heard a sigh from the corner, and a slight grumble, but he did eventually speak.

  “The Grey Man isn’t a reference to any historical event, no,” Bruin began, “but it isn’t something we haven’t heard before. I believe it’s referenced somewhere in Valour’s notes”

  A heavy silence fell over them at the mention. “Oh no,” Grant began, “no, no, no. The weirdly detailed cult worshipping cows with inverting eyes was enough, and the murderous glare Valour gave me afterwards almost made me piss myself. I am not going through those notes again, I don’t want to be skinned alive by our own version of Leatherface.”

  “That’s a bit far, isn’t it?” Zarifa said, “We shouldn’t go around accusing her of being a murderer, just because she’s a bit…”

  “Mental?” Bruin quipped from the back.

  “...peculiar,” she settled on, “she’s a bit peculiar.” Zarifa knew, of course, that calling Valour peculiar was a massive understatement- and even calling it a massive understatement was a massive understatement, but she would not be the one to speak ill about her boss with a potential murder streak thank-you-very-much.

  “Need I remind you of that day Valour came covered head to toe in ‘red paint ’ that smelled suspiciously like copper?” Grant said, “she obviously did some serial-killering-“

  “Killering?” Bruin asked with a cocked brow, turning Grant a salmon shade of pink and bringing a bright smile on Zarifa’s face that reached her dark brown eyes. 

  Grant made sounds akin to a drowning man. “It doesn’t matter,” he finally sputtered out, “what matters is that our dear creepy landlord was covered in what was clearly blood, passed it off as paint, and we just acted like it was normal!”

  “I don’t like it either, but I’m not going to be the one to call her out. Besides, maybe it’s a good thing. At least the days here are... interesting.” Zarifa said with a smile. “If we stopped the weirder stuff from happening, these days would pass slower. Especially since we don’t have any custom-“

  The sound of the bell that hung above the door, a loud and horrid thing, rang through the building.  

  “You were saying?” Bruin said, looking as amused as Bruin could be. Meanwhile, Grant shot up like a puppy, sprinting in an unprofessional manner towards the counter. Zarifa joined him, though her walk was much more slow and graceful. 

  She crossed through the shop door, which always stood wide open nowadays, and turned the corner. However, she stopped before she could reach Grant, who was staring at the stranger as much as she was. 

  Now, what needs to be said and understood about Thorn Antiques Shop, and the town of Lunewell in general, was that strangers were one of the rarest sights. Sure, occasionally one could find one of the neighbours’ relatives, or a gang of cyclists and hikers, and even tourists that had gotten hopelessly lost, which was impressive considering landing in Lunewell was a skill within itself, though these were few and far in between.

  The customer, who was scanning through the shop with what Zarifa could almost call interest, didn’t look remotely like a relative, a hiker, a cyclist, or even a lost tourist.

  She was short, with strawberry blonde hair tied into pigtails by two baby pink ribbons, pale but warm skin that made the light freckles on her cheek pop, and a stark black leather jacket which was visibly well-loved. There was something incredibly familiar about her, though Zarifa couldn’t pin down exactly what it was. 

  The customer’s fingers trailed over one of the antique chairs, before she sprawled over the priceless thing like a rag-doll. The violation snapped Zarifa out of her trance; “Excuse me, miss, but you can’t sit in those chairs!” she informed the customer, her voice raising a pitch higher when the blonde started fiddling with a lighter suspiciously close to the fabric.

  The customer’s head snapped up like a predator hearing prey, and for the first time, Zarifa noticed the woman’s eyes. The irises were a bombastic explosion made of hues of bright green, though it was almost impossible to tell from a first glance, as the pupils were blown so wide as to make the colour but a ring around a black hole.

  There was both something incredibly dangerous about the way she stalked over, sizing her up with those void eyes, but simultaneously, something incredibly intriguing- dare she say attractive- about the girl that made Zarifa want to keep her eyes on her forever.

  “Waste of a good chair, really,” the customer began, leaning over the counter, “what the fuck kind of shop doesn’t allow you to test the chair before you get it?”

  “I know!” Grant exclaimed, turning to the dark-skinned woman. “That’s what I keep saying! How can I know if the chair is good if I’ve never tried it!”

  Zarifa shot a disapproving look at him, irritated that he would encourage this girl. “What can we help you with, miss?”

  “Oooh, miss.” the woman drawled, “I’m looking for a collection of very… special papers that I left in the hands of one Valour Thorn a few years back.”

  “Special?” Grant asked, a look of confusion passing over his face. Zarifa was sure she mirrored the same puzzlement, but the woman merely grinned- an expression that yet again invoked that familiar feeling.

  After a few seconds had passed, and it had been made clear that she would not elaborate, Zarifa grabbed the notepad and pen on the counter and asked for her name. Maybe she was registered somewhere in the frankly ancient system. Assuming they even had a sort of registering system. She had never been the one to handle the technical aspects.

  “Lottie. Lottie Rose,” she said, and Zarifa’s hand froze on the paper. She glanced back up at the blonde, eyes wide and mouth dry. Of course, how hadn’t she seen it earlier? The clothes, the eyes, the lighter everything suddenly made more sense as her memory flooded back.

  “Lottie?” she whispered, faint as the whispers of a breeze, and there must have been something in her tone, because the striking green eyes widened comically, before the blonde suddenly burst out into a tension filled laugh.

  “Should’ve guessed it,” Lottie said after calming down, “can’t be that many Southern old-book nerds with vitiligo around. You should get name tags, I would have recognised Zarifa anywhere.”

  Her name was said in a smaller tone, filled with… with something that melted Zarifa’s insides like molten lava. They stood there in silent pressure, eyes on each other but gazes not quite meeting. It was for the better, as Zarifa’s heart was hammering hard enough that she was worried her ribcage might break. Whether it was from fear or something much scarier, she couldn’t quite tell.

  Grant snapped his fingers, both of them practically sighing in relief as the tension lifted; “Oh”, he began, smiling widely, "exes or childhood friends?” And just like that, the tension was back to crushing. 

  While Zarifa wasn’t quite sure of the state of her own face, Lottie had gone a complete shade of tomato red. “We’re neither,” Zarifa squeaked out curtly, Lottie nodding frantically along. “Can you give me a description of the papers?”

  Lottie straightened out at the request. “Can’t miss them. They’re in an ornate wooden and gold box, with a leaf engraved in the front,” she said, “it’s locked, as far as I know. Don’t know where the key is, but that’s hardly a problem.” She made yet another predatory smirk. 

  “I-I’ll go look for the papers, uh, in the back... miss,” she pushed herself from the counter at an almost inhuman speed and paced into the lounge. On her way, she bumped into one of the chairs, toppling both herself and the object. The sound alerted Bruin, who looked at her quizzically.

  “Was she your ex?”

  “No!” Zarifa exclaimed exasperatedly, “Not every woman I know is an ex!”  

  “No need to get defensive,” Bruin said, flipping a page, “I was just wondering if Grant’s observations were correct.” 

  Zarifa took a deep breath. “Sorry about that. I suppose her visit just… surprised me.” she straightened the chair, and looked at Bruin, “You haven’t seen a wooden and gold box engraved with leaves around here, have you? I can’t recall it, but you’re usually the one sorting the items, so I figured you might have seen it.”

  Bruin hummed, putting down his book and looking pensively at her. “I might have,” he said, after a quiet moment, “though if we do- or did, at any point, it’s not anywhere in the basement.” He glanced up at the ceiling, before returning to the book.

  “I suppose it’ll be upstairs, then,” Zarifa said, with a heavy sigh, “I’ll make Grant call Valour, see if she can bother to show up from… wherever she’s gone.” And try to explain to Lottie that those papers might be inaccessible, she thought, but didn’t add. Lottie was a lot of things, but patient and calm, she was not. 

  As she made her way back to the counter, gripping the golden butterfly hung on her neck tightly, she tried to calm her heart and thoughts. A part of her still refused to believe Lottie was here, after all these years, in an antique shop of all places. It almost felt taunting, in an odd way. The life Zarifa had tried so hard to run from and avoid sneaking through the door, looking more dangerous and simultaneously more intriguing than ever.

  What life had Lottie led? What had happened since that last night? How did she know Valour? What did she want with the papers? All the questions buried themselves into Zarifa’s head, burning and begging for answers. And as Lottie, drumming her fingers on the counter as Grant rambled off about something, came into view, she realised what Eve must have felt like looking at the apple.

  Lottie perked up as Zarifa entered the room, though as her eyes drifted to the empty hands, her smile fell. “Thought I asked for a box,” she said, a raised eyebrow and mean glare that would have been intimidating, had Zarifa not had to deal with years of Valour, and not known that for her, Lottie was all growl.

  “We do, most likely, have the box,” Zarifa began in her most soothing voice, placing her hands on the counter, “but, it’s currently upstairs, in Valour Thorn’s flat, to which none of us has the keys.”

  Lottie sighed, in an exasperated and slightly overdramatic way; “‘Course you fucking don’t. Guess she hasn’t changed at all, still closed off, disappearing, and secretive.” 

  Pot meet kettle, thought Zarifa, though kept her cranberry painted lips sealed. “Grant will give her a call in the morning,” Zarifa said, pushing over a blank slip of paper which had Lottie R- half-written on it in quite nice penmanship. “Just write down your number, and we’ll call you when she arrives.”

  Lottie pulled the paper closer to herself, though made no move to write. “Think she’ll even show up?” she asked, turning to Grant, who smiled at that.

  “Valour actually seems to like me,” he said, proudly, “or, tolerate, at least.”

  “Huh. Didn’t know people still practised witchcraft around this part.”

  “It’s all in my muffins, cakes, and pitiable nature,” Grant said, only half-joking, “I’ll give you a taste one time if you decide to stick around.”

  Lottie nodded, before scribbling onto the paper, and sliding it back. It contained no number, but the name had been completed, albeit with a much sloppier if artistic handwriting. “I’ll know when she returns,” Lottie said, bouncing from foot to foot. There was a firmness in her voice, and she said it with such confidence that Zarifa almost believed her. Almost. “How’s the nightlife here? Worth sticking around for?”

  “Horrid, simply dreadful,” Grant butted in, before Zarifa had the chance to give a quick answer and an even quicker goodbye, “but we do have a lot of pretty places to take a midnight stroll. Trees are lovely here, especially now in the autumn.” He paused, a contemplative look over his face, “Come to think of it, I do know quite a lot of dealers around here that can hook you up, if you’re up for it.”

  “Grant!”

  Lottie chuckled, amusement painted in neon on her face. Seeing some of that flame inside her come to light filled Zarifa with a sense of joy, that she pushed down with a strength bodybuilders would be jealous of. 

  “Oh, I like him,” Lottie declared to Zarifs, jabbing a finger in Grant’s general direction. Her green eyes- which Zarifa had to stop looking at, traced down from Zarifa’s own eyes before landing on her neck. Lottie’s posture, previously energetic and bouncy, froze. “You kept the necklace,” she whispered, though the sound felt louder than all the explosions of the universe.

  Zarifa’s hand was instantaneously on the golden butterfly hanging around her neck, shielding it from the world. The metal felt cool against her skin, even if she could feel her racing heart where her hand rested. “Felt it was a shame to let it go to waste,” Zarifa murmured, technically true, “so I just kept it.” She shifted in the silence for a while, doing her best to ignore Lottie’s eyes glued to the necklace, before clearing her throat and putting on her best ‘professional’ tone; “Was there anything else you needed?”

  Lottie shook her head, leaning back from the counter and adjusting her leather jacket. “No, I’ll be back soon,” she said, before speeding towards the door. She knocked into the vases, making them wobble like jelly, before pushing the door open like she was assaulting it, and leaving nothing but the sound of a bell and the distant thrum of a motorbike. 

  “Lottie, huh,” Grant said, his tone dazed as though he was lost in a daydream, “she was certainly interesting. I’m a fan. Think we’ll see her around more?”

  “Hopefully not,” Zarifa said, running fingers over the butterfly, “hopefully not.” 

[buffaloborgine]

Of Zack Fair, Genesis Rhapsodos and the strange narrative POV of FFVII-Crisis Core (Part I)

Everyone will agree on one thing when talking about FFVII-Crisis Core: The plot line is so hard to understand, it even feels like the narration is badly executed.  I believe whether you love Crisis Core for the characters, or that you get to understand more about the beginning of FFVII compilation, you will still come to a point: find it very hard to grasp on what the heck is going on in Crisis Core. 

Why did Genesis become a deserter in the first place? What was his motives for that?  Why did Angeal become dramatic and seek a suicidal ending?  Why did Sephiroth mentally snapped into an unfathomable path? Why did anything happen in Crisis Core after all? Overall these questions are for the bigger picture. How about some smaller ones? How did Hojo know that the writings about Jenova in the underground library of Shinra mansion are false?  Why did Genesis choose to go after Hojo instead of after President Shinra if all he wants is to seek revenge? Did Genesis stalk Zack and Sephiroth as they come to Nibelheim?  Why did Hojo not try retrieving Sephiroth’s body from the Nibelheim’s Reactor?  Who actually helped Zack escape the mako tank?  Why would we only know that four years had already passed at the end of the game? Why could Shinra troops find out Zack and Cloud faster than the Turks did?  etc... 

These questions, after all, are normal, because, at least, we still have them instead of blindly following the narrative of Crisis Core. After I do rethink and retour on the storyline and narrative of Crisis Core, I think the director, the screenwriters and the plot writers actually did a very good work.  Because bamboozling the players is their true goal. 

Crisis Core’s narrative went with the point of view of Zack Fair, a kind-hearted, light-minded and naive young protagonist, following the trails of the enigmatic, deceitful antagonist, mainly by following his words.  The very frequent scene that you came across while you play Crisis Core is Genesis reciting a verse from LOVELESS and Zack will say “I don’t understand at all.”  The fact is, that’s our case as well. The whole time we played Crisis Core, we follow Zack’s POV, and for someone that’s too naive, Zack didn’t ask any questions. Instead of asking questions, he tended to assume how things went as the events progressed, or if he can’t find a way to assume things to his logic, he will say, “I don’t understand at all.” As we progressed the story through this kind of “forced” POV, for we don’t have the option to raise the questions, we slowly accept things at it is laid out in front of us. The more we follow this kind of narrative, the more we stop wanting to ask questions, because we know we don’t have that option no matter what.  That’s why we become more and more like Zack in Crisis Core, we accepted the story as told instead of seeking answers for the out-of-place details, which just, narrows our chance of understanding the story. 

So if you reach this part of the post, please let me suggest you a way to get out of the “foggy  Zack’s POV”. Just ask questions about things you don’t get in CC, and stop using the way Zack sees thing to explain for it. Also, like I said, Zack’s POV is one thing that make understanding Crisis Core very hard (because Zack himself is so dull), Genesis’s words are also misleading as we saw him said one thing did something else all the time.   Therefore, the best option is to stop seeing things the way Zack sees and stop trusting Genesis’s words totally. We can try to think out of the box, the narrative, and ask more questions so we can look for clues that can stitch things together.

For example, the first one, we can start with the case of Genesis murdering his parents.   As Zack and Tseng arrived in Banora for their investigation, the two came to Genesis’s old house. There, Tseng found a newly made grave, with gravestones, in which he found the corpses of Genesis’ adoptive parents along with some Shinra people. 

When the two got to met with Genesis in the abandoned facility, Genesis got agressive as Tseng talked about his parents and processed to say “My parents betrayed me from the very beginning”, which sounds to have very much disdain and hatred, so Zack (and we too) assumed Genesis cold-bloodedly murdered his parents. 

Let’s halt here for one second. Had Genesis really cold-bloodedly murdered his parents, why did he have to make them a grave? A grave is a location where a dead body (typically that of a human, although sometimes that of an animal) is buried or interred after a funeral; so the requirement to call burial place as a grave is to have a funeral ahead of it. You may ask “What if Genesis does that to hide the body?”, ho boi, he knows the Turks will come for investigation, and Tursk are like intelligent units, hiding dead bodies from them doesn’t really sound smart, does it? Besides the gravestones are quite blatant, no one make gravestone over a grave to hide dead bodies. That took out one possibility.  So the assumption that he really did murder his parents cold-bloodedly doesn’t really sound logical either, because he can totally just leave the corpses laying around there, why bother giving them one last rite and a proper grave if he just wants them dead? One other possibility out then. Now there’s one detail that I want to bring in for discussion: the “newly made” grave. This detail shows us one thing: the grave has just been made not long ago before Tseng’s and Zack’s arrival. Why should we take note of this detail? Because as we progress the story, we soon know that Shinra is about to bomb Banora into dust to erase all evidences of Genesis’ betrayal there. Therefore, why would there be a newly made grave just before the time the town getting bombed when Genesis surely had been in the town for quite a long time ago? He could have killed all the people and made them a grave a while ago. Or he could just not make them any grave at all. Or, being a SOLDIER for Shinra, he surely knows when the Turks come means the Shinra’s bombing planes is close, Genesis can totally leave the people of Banora die in the bombing. Or he could simply turn them all into the copies.  So why not any of those options above? Logically, if you know someone is going to die miserably and you choose to end them quickly then even make them a grave, that probably shows you are not a cold-blooded killer, because obviously, this kind of killing people is killing out of mercy.  This kind of explanation may help you change your view on Genesis and the narrative of Crisis Core, although it’s still just a theory. 

Thank you for coming to my Ted-talk, I will dissect other “dubious” events in Crisis Core in the next part.  Part IIa: https://buffaloborgine.tumblr.com/post/651997384235171840/of-zack-fair-genesis-rhapsodos-and-the-strange

[sparkleofpizza]

The archer - Tim Drake x reader 1/?

Hey guys, how are you doing? I have been working on this story for a while now and decided to finally post it, I am currently still writing the next parts because I decided to change a few ideas I had previously, but this is mainly just me giving Tim Drake some love and incorporating a bit of my love for Arrow too. Hope you guys like it and feel free to request me anything if you'd like, I write for the batboys, Wally and Conner. 

Requested: no

Warnings: some swearing

Summary: Y/n Queen will be living in the Wayne Manor for a while, and Dick Grayson decided to be the Cupid between her and his little brother Tim Drake.

Word count: 2.228

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

The Wayne manor was silent that day, Bruce had everyone prepared for the arrival of a guest. The four boys were pissed off as why they had to make sure their rooms were organized, it was not like the guest would sleep in there. Dick and Jason didn't even live there anymore, but they gave up on arguing after one pointed look from Alfred.

When the doorbell finally rung, the boys were all too busy playing around in the cave - somewhere they found out they would have privacy, after all there was no way the guest would get there. So they weren’t there to greet you as you found your way around the house, after being greeted by Bruce and Alfred, letting them take your bags to the room you’d be staying at and showing you around.

You ended up standing in front of the clock, you knew pretty well what that clock meant, your brother had told you about that. You had a vague idea that the boys would be there - you really wanted to meet all of them - but didn’t want to intrude, this wasn’t your house after all and Bruce was already being nice enough to let you stay over while your brother was away in some business. So you went back to your room, deciding to meet them when was the right time.

And it actually didn’t take long for you to run into one of them. You collided with a huge body, making you land in your butt as you looked up to see none other than Jason Todd. He started down at you.

“Who are you?” He asked, frowning "Are you the guest Bruce told us about?"

“Hello to you too, Jason.” You rolled your eyes at the boys antics, pushing yourself up “It’s nice to see you again.”

He started at you for a few seconds before realization drowned on him. You are Y/N Queen, Oliver’s young sister and Roy’s ‘sister’ as well. He hasn’t seen you such a long time he almost didn’t recognize you.

“Y/N?!” He questioned, too surprised, patting your shoulder “Oh, it’s good to see you again. You look so different from the last time I saw you.”

“That’s because the last time you saw me I was sixteen.” You smirked up at him “Which means you’re getting a bit old.”

He narrowed his eyes at you “You’re like eighteen now or something?”

“Nineteen, actually.”

He nodded, leading you downstairs to the kitchen “Well, you’re still underage so you still have to respect me and do what I say.”

“When have I ever done something people tell me to do? I literally went after a serial killer on my own when I was fifteen just because Ollie told me to stay out of it.”

Jason nodded his head, remembering Roy complaining about something like that. He didn’t pay much attention at the story at the time because he thought it was boring and he had better things to think of, such as his revenge on Bruce, but now it seemed amusing a small girl like you trying something like that. He made a mental note to ask you more details about it later.

“I hope none of you are doing anything imprudent, we have a visitor and that would be really bad looking for you all.” Jason exclaimed, entering the kitchen with you by his side 

His three brothers were sitting on the counter, fighting over the last cookie Alfred had made earlier. Their heads shot up in curiosity trying to find out who was there with their brother. Hoping it wouldn't be the mysterious guest.

You stood still, pushing some hair from your face and offering them a friendly smile. Oliver has told you about them, even Roy filled you in on who they were, you’ve seen pictures of them, after all they were Bruce’s Wayne kids, but damn, you didn’t expect them to be this good looking in person. 

“Todd, who’s this?” A small boy questioned, holding up a knife to point at you

You chuckled at that “I’m y/n, it’s really nice to meet you. Maybe you should let go of that knife, kids shouldn’t hold things that can hurt them.”

“I’m not a kid!” He yelled 

His brothers laughed at his face, Tim already taking a liking into you. If you got to bother Damian in less than five minutes into conversation than you were cool. Dick though you were funny and Jason smiled proudly just because he knew you before everyone else.

“This are my brothers, Dick, Tim and Damian.” Jason introduced them to you 

You smiled once again, taking a sit across from where they were. 

“So...” Dick started “Y/n, when did you and Jason get together?”

“What? You think we’re dating?” You almost gagged, taking a look at the boy beside you. From all the stories you heard about him from Roy, you were 110% sure that you’d never be able to feel something more for him “We’re not together.” You chuckled at the end

Jason narrowed his eyes “Y/n is the guest Bruce told us about, but hold on a second... Why did you sound so disgusted?”

“Because anyone would be disgusted if someone thought they were dating you, Todd.” Damian rolled his eyes, earning a few laughs from his brother and you, and a death glare from Jason

“Roy just tells me so much shit about you, and you guys are glued. It would be like dating Roy, totally weird.”

“Oh, you’re friends with Roy?” Tim asked, leaning in a bit, curious about how much you knew about them all

You smiled directly at him, flipping some hair from your face. He stared at you for a while, mouth slightly open before quickly shutting it close. You were so pretty and what a perfect smile you have. 

“Yeah, I’ve known him almost my whole life.” You replied, frowning a bit, thinking back into old memories of when things went down hill, but quickly smiled again at boy in front of you “So I know plenty about all of you.” 

That gave him the answer he needed. You knew about their nightly activities, which was better than having to lie all the time. Not like he was expecting to have you around all the time, you were just staying for a while. But he wouldn’t mind staring at your gorgeous e/c eyes, and pretty conquer smile. 

Dick’s eyes went wide, looking at his brother and than at you. An idea already popping on his mind, if you weren’t dating Jason, maybe that meant you weren’t dating anyone, since you stated you also weren’t dating Roy. Big chances of you being single. Watching you and Tim interact made him want to play match maker, oh he was desperate to play match maker.

“How old are you, y/n?” He blurted out loudly 

“I’m nineteen, why?”

“Oh! Nothing! Just curiosity. Did you know Tim is twenty-one? Only two years older than you! Funny, right?”

You nodded, biting your lower lip to prevent yourself from laughing. Dick didn’t know how to be discreet.

It had been a couple of days since you’ve been at the manor and you noticed a couple of things:

1. Damian was a very hard person to socialize with, he was very judging and didn’t seem to enjoy your presence at all.

2. Jason was everything Roy told you about him, and that was kind of creepy.

3. Dick was definitely trying to play cupid, asking you random questions out of the blue and then stating facts about Tim.

4. Tim had a very weird sleeping pattern, was coffee addicted and the nicest to talk out of the four of them. 

You tried to live your days as normally as possible, but nothing normal is really normal in this family. You thought it was ok their vigilant routine, your brother was one as well, but weren’t they extreme sometimes?! No wonder Oliver said Bruce was uptight. They show zero emotions. 

You tried not to get in their way, not really bothering them when they were busy with patrol and cases. You figured your time of the day should be during the night, when the would be out of the manor and on the streets fighting crime. 

Going down to the kitchen to get some coffee, maybe something to eat and then you could silently laugh while watching Brooklyn 99. What you didn’t expect was to run into Tim during that.

He was pouring down coffee on his mug when you appeared on the doorway. He glanced up, smiling once he saw you.

“Did I wake you up?” He questioned, leaning down on the counter 

“No.” You shook your head, smiling back at him “I came to get some coffee. Shouldn't you be on patrol?" 

"It is my day off." Tim replied, watching you as he took a sip of his coffee

"So then... Can't sleep?"

“I normally don’t sleep. What about you?”

You arched your brows at that, pouring some hot coffee in a mug for you. Who normally doesn’t sleep?

“Just wanted to watch some Netflix in the quite of the night.” You shrugged “What do you normally do since you don’t sleep?”

"I just work on some cases."

That seemed unlikely. How could someone stay up all night just working on some cases? He certainly did other things, maybe he had a secret girlfriend and he would sneak her into his room at night and that's just what he told everyone he was doing? Working on some cases.

"But you do that all night? I doubt it's healthy. Don't you like have a secret girlfriend you're sneaking in and you just don't want anyone to find out about?"

Tim laughed at your statement, shaking his head. 

"I don't have any secret girlfriend or a real girlfriend for the matter. I like working at night. You could help me sometime, if you'd like?" A dust pink took over his cheeks, maybe he crossed the line by asking you join him in his room in the middle of the night, but you smiled at him 

"I'd love to help you on some cases. Shall we start now?"

He nodded, grabbing your hand and pulling you in towards his room. You smiled at the touch of your palms, his hand was way bigger than yours, but you liked how it felt against your skin. His fingers were cold. You could get used to holding hands with him, it felt nice.

You entered his room, looking at the place around you and seeing how it had so much of him in it. It smelled like coffee and his cologne, a nice combination. He closed the door behind you, leading you to his desk.

"So, what do you want me to help you with?" You questioned, leaning on the desk and staring at him 

He took a moment to admire you. Your face free of makeup, some natural redness on the skin that made you look cute, your hair down on your shoulders, and your comfy pijamas. 

"Have you ever worked on a case before?" You nodded, making him look at you with surprise. You smirked before he kept on talking "I'm trying to track down some of these weapon buyers, there's supposed to be a sale soon, but I can't point out the location yet."

"What are our leads?"

Tim smiled, showing you all the evidence he got before splitting up the job and the both of you starting to work. You sat on his bed with a laptop and he sat beside you with his own. Both clicking at the keyboard, trying to find new clues to find out the place of the weapon sale before it's too late. 

At some point of the night, you had decided to take a small break. Laying on your side, looking at Tim while he worked and holding a small conversation with him. But then you were too quiet and when he looked at you again, you had fallen asleep, holding on his shirt sleeve. 

He closed his laptop, carefully placing it on his night stand, trying not to disrupt you, and lied down himself. He tried to put some distance between your bodies, but you shifted only getting closer to him once you missed his body warmth, and he found himself trapped when you plopped a leg over his thighs. His cheeks turned red and he was really glad you were asleep so you wouldn't be able to see how flustered he was right now. 

Eventually, during the night, Tim wrapped his arms around you as your head was placed on top of his chest. And that's how Alfred found the both of you in the morning, having checked your room to wake you up for breakfast and being frighted to find an empty bed. 

"What you're staring at, Alfred?" Dick asked, waking past him on the hallway only to squeaky like a little kid once he saw you two asleep holding each other "I knew it! I knew they'd end up together!"

He grabbed his phone, snapping a couple of pictures before being rushed out of there by Alfred. Tim deserved some sleep, and the both of you looked too adorable together to be disturbed like that. 

[onebizarrekai]

Meme Waker: That Final Thing

okay aight here we go here’s the big idea compilation you’ve all been waiting for or something like that

since I’ve finally accepted meme waker’s inevitable fate, I’ll share what I’ve had laying around about it. prepare yourself for a wild ride.

first of all, what existed of the planned character key:

Nightmare = Link Dream = Aryll Cross = Tetra Ink = The Entire Pirate Crew Granny Gertrude = Grandma Horror = Quill Killer = Medli Color = Komali Dust = Makar XGaster = Tingle (yes, you read that right) Fresh = Fado (?) Geno = Laruto Blueberry = Niko Error = Ganondorf Giant Flying Chicken = Helmaroc King Core Frisk = The King XChara = Zelda

So XChara was going to fill the role of Zelda–basically, what was going to happen was that when Cross and Nightmare reached sunken Hyrule, which was replaced by the Omega Timeline, they encountered Core Frisk and with their magical Core Frisk powers that apparently exist, separated XChara from Cross’s body. Because Error was hunting him down for whatever villainous reasons (I dunno, maybe he wanted to find Overwrite or something), XChara was going to spend the near remainder of the comic hiding in the Omega Timeline from Error. It was a pretty neat reference to the fact that Error doesn’t know where the OT is.

Unsurprisingly, considering when I was working on this, Nightmare and Cross may have eventually started dating. They were going to kiss during a fight that involved them accidentally rolling down a hill and then likely spend the remainder of the comic referring to each other as boyfriends, with no further indication of romance between them. I never really mentally decided whether I was actually going to incorporate this or not.

In moments where someone needed to present a musical instrument, Cross was going to play a keytar.

There is a very high chance that the entire comic was going to end up being an elaborate prank set up by Ink and Error.

After being rescued from the Forsaken Fortress, Dream was going to get crossbows and… I dunno, maybe be useful with them sometimes. One consideration was that he was going to complain about being stuck in a glorified retirement home and request joining the party.

Nightmare was going to have a fake ID with the name “Nathaniel Meyer” on it.

When Nightmare eventually pulled up the Gaster Sword, he was basically going to do a magical girl transformation and get a new outfit. I was considering holding a contest where people would submit new designs for Nightmare before I realized that I may have wanted to do it myself. Meanwhile, Cross’s design change at the same time was going to pertain to the fact that he had such a hard time with his uniform that he just wanted to start wearing normal clothes.

When XChara was separated from Cross, it would indicate that Cross can’t use the hack knife anymore, so I had to think of a new weapon for him. I considered giving him arm mounts with knives in them for no reason other than being extra, but I was probably just going to end up going with a regular sword.

Nightmare and Cross were going to be mistaken for missionaries at some point due to Nightmare introducing Cross as his ‘companion’.

Nightmare’s fake ID is actually a driver’s license. Cross questions how he could get one when he’s only fifteen, and Nightmare responds with “what can I say? I live in the country.”

The Giant Flying Chicken was going to evolve into the Cyborg Giant Flying Chicken before Nightmare and Cross fought it. It was already a robot, but someone decided it would be fun to make it look more robotic for some reason. Maybe too many people tried to eat it.

Because Blueberry was going to replace Niko, that meant there was going to be a form of challenge that he would present to Nightmare and/or Cross. They were probably just going to play Dance Dance Revolution.

The dress that Granny Gertrude gave Nightmare was actually going to be infused with magical powers. Either Nightmare could only access the power of the Triforce when he’s wearing the dress, or it was going to be a piece of equipment that turned his sword into a fire sword.

Nightmare was going to come back to the Village of Old People to see that his grandmother had conquered it with capitalism.

Dragon Roost Cavern was going to be replaced with a Pokemon gym.

When Nightmare supposedly kicked Error’s ass at the end of the story, he was going to say something along the lines of “Because fuck you!” and it would be the first and only f-bomb in the whole comic. Nightmare would proceed to say that it was the first time he’d ever said fuck and that he felt dirty.

The Triforce of Courage was just going to be called the Triforce of Porridge for exactly zero reason.

Some incarnation of Buffmare was going to exist in the comic, but only in a sequence taking place in Nightmare’s imagination.

When Cross realized his backpack was missing, it was because I realized his backpack was missing. I forgot to draw it. I decided that the backpack actually fused with him to create a Zelda-style magic pocket.

Nightmare was going to try to control a seagull with the command melody, but he was accidentally going to start controlling Cross instead and make him run into a tree.

The Tree Spirit was going to hold official interviews for placeholder guardians in Dream and Nightmare’s absence. These placeholder guardians were going to be Neil, the overenthusiastic French furry, and Ccino, the local emo kid who is absolutely done with everyone’s bullshit, and exclusively because they were the only ones who applied for the job. Neil was going to have an ulterior motive of becoming Gaston’s successor.

Neil and Ccino were eventually going to ‘get together’, if you can even call it that, and for no other reason than shitpost reasons.

Nightmare may have had a showdown with the Giant Flying Chicken while riding the Great Charizard from Dragon Roost.

Another possible concept for whole story was that it was a bad self insert fic written by a younger version of Nightmare, but it’s really unlikely that I would’ve gone through with that.

Nightmare and Cross may have needed to go on a fetch quest to find Ink’s brush in the ocean because they accidentally lost it, but honestly that would’ve served nothing for the progression of the story. Because XGaster put a tracker on Ink’s brush, they were going to have to enlist his help.

and that about wraps up my notes, now let me throw what I had sitting around of a script draft–reading this was a trip because I forgot that literally 60% of it existed:

(inside the mountain)

Cross: holy shoe, EVERYONE has wings? how is this a thing??

Cross: I’m frickin jealous

Chief: Oh. You must be. Those guys.

Horror: yeah man, I enlisted their help to capture the Chicken Terror, but then they were all like yo, it’s a robot!


Chief: horror robot or not I told you that we weren’t going to capture the chicken terror for food because we’re not cannibals we don’t eat birds

Horror: but

Horror: we’re hardly even birds!

Chief: you know your job Horror. now get back to work. your actual work.

Horror: But… being the mailman sucks!


Chief: Do I need to confiscate your axe again?


Horror: OKAY FINE. I’M GOING. (flies away in a huff)

Chief: AND DO YOUR GODFORSAKEN LAUNDRY!

Chief: I apologize for that… so, how can I help you two today?


Nightmare: You guys have like, some pearl thing or something? We need to like, collect three of them in order to… save the multiverse… or something like that.

(Camera dramatically darkens.)

Chief: It’s just as the prophecy foretold…

Nightmare: oh god what

Chief: You see, young whippersnappers… legend tells of a great hero that would rise up and save a bunch of people in times of desperation that they don’t even realize are desperate. the great hero would travel far and wide in search of the Pearls of Shiny to finally retrieve a great weapon that he would use to strike down the evil that few knew existed. also the hero would have a sidekick wearing stupid clothes.

Cross: EXCUSE ME

Chief: THAT’S JUST WHAT THE PROPHECY SAID

Nightmare: okay, y’know, I’m just gonna roll with it. where can I get the pearl?

Chief: Well… that’s where the hard part comes in. You see, the pearl belongs to my son… but he’s been acting like an edgy teenager lately.

Nightmare: Great…

Cross: Is there a reason he’s being edgy? Maybe there’s something we can do to appease his hormones.

Cross: Free food works like a charm for me.

Chief: No, it’s more complicated than that. When one of our people becomes of age, they climb to the top of Charizard Island to receive a scale from the Great Charizard that will allow them to grow wings.

Nightmare: the… great charizard.

Chief: But lately, the Great Charizard has been throwing inexplicable temper tantrums. No one can get close to him anymore. And with my son being of age, he’s decently pissed off about this.

Chief: We’re thinking that the Great Charizard is displeased about something, and it is also causing our shortage of food.

Nightmare: Wait, you worship something named after a Pokemon?


Chief: Anyway, perhaps you two will be able to talk some sense into my son. Maybe he just wants to talk to someone his age that isn’t Horror or Killer.

Nightmare: What kind of names are those?


Chief: There’s a letter that I wanted my son to read, and I’ve given it to Killer to hold onto. You can go get it from him upstairs in the first room near the stairs, just tell him I sent you. He’s the little guy in the short shorts, you’ll probably recognize him when you see him.

Nightmare: Can’t you just call him here?


Chief: No, it is of upmost importance that you experience a basic fetch quest in order to become a great hero, because those fetch quests will become needlessly complicated before you even realize it.

Nightmare: ?????

Nightmare: I can’t even tell if you’re joking or not–

Cross: dude let’s just go get the letter

(scene transition)

(Killer dramatically turns around and it zooms in and says his name SSB style)

Nightmare: Wait, why do you get a dramatic introduction?


Killer: Dayum. New faces.

Nightmare: Why is everyone ignoring my questions??

Killer: (needlessly sensual voice) So, what brings you here? (walking closer)


Nightmare: (backs into wall) NO BUENO

Cross: You have a letter or something?


Killer: Oh. Yeah. Chief gave it to me for some reason. Yo, catch.

(He chucks it like a ninja star. Cross catches it between his hands in front of his face.)


Killer: Ey! You actually caught it!


Cross: I’m a trained ninja.

Killer: So like, who are you guys?

Cross: I’m Cross. He’s Larry.

Nightmare: NIGHTMARE. MY NAME IS NIGHTMARE.

Killer: Aw man, I know the feel of having a really lame name and wanting one that’s cooler.

Nightmare: No. Like. My name is actually Nightmare. My senile grandma called me Larry earlier today and this loser picked up on it.

Killer: There’s no need to lie. I understand.

Nightmare: I’M NOT LYING!

Killer: anyway make sure you get that letter to Color there’s something I have to do–

(Killer zips out the door behind them.)


Cross: what even the frick?


Nightmare: that guy freaks me the frick out.

Nightmare: literally. I felt like he was coming onto me.

Cross: you’re imagining things.

(SCENE TRANSITION)
 Cross: all right Nightmare I literally do not trust your ability to communicate with another person in a way that will make them feel inclined to give us something so just let me handle this okay

Cross: okay better yet wait outside the room

(Nightmare makes a less than amused face.)


Cross: it’s for the greater good

(Cross walks into the room.)

Cross: hi my name is Cross and

Color: LEAVE

(Cross immediately exits the room.)

Cross: this is a lost causeNightmare: what

Cross: go make him bleed with your words

Nightmare: dude isn’t this the part where we give him the frickin letter

Cross: (pauses) :o

Cross: OH RIGHT

(Cross takes the letter and goes back into the room, leaving the door open)

Cross: oh yeah this letter is for you it’s from your dad or something

Color: Oh, wow. Can’t even be bothered to talk to me in person.

Color: Give me that thing.

(Color stares at the letter. It’s actually a letter from Killer filled with really bad pickup lines and other really creepy compliments.)

Color: What the hell, you said this was from my dad!

Cross: We thought it was–??

(Killer teleports in behind them, scaring the shit out of Nightmare)


Killer: Suuuup~

Color: Killer I swear to god.

Killer: Here’s the actual letter, though you might not be happy with it.

(He flings it at Color and it lands in front of him. He reads it over, rolls his eyes and throws it in the trash.)

Cross: So uh… I don’t know what the letter says but apparently we’re prophesied heroes collecting a bunch of pearls to save the multiverse and the pearl you have is–


Color: Can everyone just get out of my room already?

(everyone just leaves)

Nightmare: What even was the point of that stupid fetch quest?

Killer: Oh yeah, can you guys help me with something? Just a smalllll favor. And I can’t ask anyone else because I’m not supposed to do it.

Killer: I need some strong, reliable people…

Nightmare: Don’t touch me.

Killer: It’s just a small favor! And I mean actually small, it’ll take like two minutes.

Nightmare: I have doubts about this.

Killer: Great! Meet me out back by the spring.

Nightmare: Wait which side is the back–

(Killer is gone)

Nightmare: Cross which side is the back.

Cross: I don’t know??

(after spending twenty minutes going through the various exits trying to figure out how to get there)

Killer: What the hell took you so long.

Nightmare: Directions would’ve been helpful. There wasn’t even a freaking map anywhere in there!

Killer: The hollow is like the size of a middle class house! How difficult could it be to find out where to go?!

Nightmare: IT’S A DOME THERE IS NO BACK

Cross: OKAY, what matters is that we’re here, what the heck do we do now.

Killer: Okay, okay. (steps backwards) Look, if you look around here, it’s all a dried up spring. The Great Charizard was throwing a tantrum, a boulder fell down and it coincidentally plugged up the spring for the third time this week, which is literally our main source of fresh water. I’m honestly getting sick of this so I’m going to climb the mountain and see what’s going on because everyone else is too scared to do it.

Nightmare: God. You’re not gonna make us go with you, are you?


Killer: Oh, no way. I just need you to throw me up that cliff over there so I can get into the cavern that leads up the mountain.

Nightmare: Can’t you fly?

Killer: Not thirty feet straight up. Do these noodle arms look like they can manage that?


Nightmare: Whatever. But quick question. How the hell does one throw a person.

Killer: I weigh like fifty pounds. It shouldn’t be that hard. Also, if you’ve noticed, the wind is rapidly changing directions, so you’ll probably have the best effect throwing me when the wind is blowing that way.

Nightmare: Mhmm. Sure. Let’s just get this over with.

(Nightmare crouches down and Killer fuckin walks onto his shoulders)

Nightmare: Hey! Watch it!

(some way or another he throws Killer and Killer barely makes it to the cliff, face planting into the ground)

Nightmare: Well I guess that worked.

Killer: THAT WAS TERRIBLE!

Nightmare: YOU’RE WELCOME! COULD’VE JUST USED A DAMN LADDER!

Killer: NOBODY OWNS A LADDER HERE BECAUSE EVERYONE CAN FLY!

Nightmare: Then how the frick do people get up this cliff?!

Killer: THERE’S NORMALLY A BRIDGE BUT IT BROKE AND PROBLEMS LIKE THESE ARE PRECISELY WHY I’M CLIMBING THE MOUNTAIN TO BEGIN WITH! ALSO I’M LEAVING BYE. (turns and leaves)

(cricket cricket)

Cross: Nightmare we should probably follow him.

Nightmare: No.

Cross: What else do we have to do. We solve their problem, Color can get his wings and then he stops being emo and gives us the pearl out of the goodness of his heart.

Nightmare: I’m not risking my life for this! If that guy is willing to do it himself I’m going to let him do it!

Cross: Dude, look at that guy. He looks about at capable fixing whatever the problem is as Ink is at providing emotional support. If this happens to be anything like a video game, we’re the only ones capable of solving anything. Besides, what else are we supposed to do? Hang around and wait for something to happen?

Nightmare: All right, fine. But how are we supposed to do something? It’s not like we can climb up a thirty foot cliff.

Cross: No, but we can swim, right?Nightmare: What?

(Cross draws a line around the rock covering the spring. It dematerializes into red squares and water starts to spew out of the spring. They both run back towards the side and climb up the cliff they came from)

Nightmare: Dude, what the hell was that?

Cross: I can draw lines around things with my sword and they do that and go away.

Nightmare: … do they go somewhere?


Cross: I dunno.

(Meanwhile in Xtale, a boulder slams into the floor and almost crushes Fresh because of course he’s there)

(The spring fills up)


Nightmare: You know I’m starting to have second thoughts about this swimming thing seeing as how I’ve never actually–(Cross kicks him into the water)


(LATER)


Nightmare: YOU ASSHOLE I ALMOST DROWNED

Cross: You’re exaggerating.

Random Dude: STOP RIGHT THERE!


Nightmare: who.

Random Dude: YOU AREN’T GOIN ONE STEP PAST THIS POINT! YOU’RE LIGHT YEARS FROM FACING BROCK!

(nightmare squints)

(comic suddenly goes into a battle sequence)

Nightmare: whoa whoa what the hell is happening

Cross: oh my god it’s pokemon NIGHTMARE IT’S POKEMON

Nightmare: I DON’T HAVE ANY POKEMON CROSS THREATEN HIM

(Random Dude sent out MEWTWO)

Cross: DEAR GOD

Cross: LISTEN THERE’S A HUGE MISUNDERSTANDING WE’RE NOT TRAINERS WE DON’T HAVE POKEMON

Random Dude: tHEN WHY ARE YOU IN A POKEMON GYM HUH

Cross: Uh… touring?

Random Dude: OH

Random Dude: I SEE

(The Random Dude returns his Mewtwo.)

Random Dude: THERE HAS BEEN AN UNFORTUNATE MISUNDERSTANDING

Cross: Say uh, you didn’t happen to see a scrawny dude with wings pass through here, did you?

Random Dude: Oh yeah, he went into the next room and took the elevator to the top.

(silence)


Nightmare: Why are there always elevators.

(two seconds later, they reach the elevator and there’s a dude standing in front of it)


Nightmare: um excuse me we need to use the elevator

Dude: oh man I can’t find my glasses anywhere what do I do

Nightmare: excuse me I said move

Dude: oh man I can’t find my glasses anywhere what do I do

Nightmare: HELLO

Dude: oh man I can’t find my glasses anywhere what do I do

Nightmare: MOVE ASSHOLE

Cross: I think it’s a preprogrammed NPC.

Nightmare: UAGGGGHHHHH

(Nightmare throws himself into the person, but he slams into the STEEL WALL OF NPC)

Nightmare: CROSS TELEPORT HIM AWAY

Cross: wait are you serious what if that freakin kills him I don’t know where these things go

Nightmare: YOU SAID IT YOURSELF HE’S AN NPC

(Cross shrugs. He draws a line around the NPC and the NPC disappears)

(one elevator ride later)

Nightmare: (chokes) oh god

Nightmare: the altitude

Cross: nightmare this island is still lower than ink’s house.

Nightmare: PSYCHOLOGICAL ALTITUDE

(fwip)

Cross: Oh look, it’s that guy from earlier.

Nightmare: Got captured somehow. Why am I not surprised?

Killer: YOU KNOW WHAT SCREW YOU GUYS

(A really buff guy abruptly slams into the ground)

Buff Guy: FEAR MY WRATH, FOR I AM BROCK! LEADER OF ALL THINGS ROCK HARD

Nightmare: Look man, we really don’t have time for this, just let the shota hoe go, we’re just checking up on the huge-ass Charizard up there.

Killer: excuse me

Brock: I AM THE LOYAL GUARDIAN OF THE GREAT CHARIZARD! You can only pass if you defeat me!


Cross: what the hell is even happening anymore

(Loud gym battle music as the gate at the entrance of the clearing slams shut)

Nightmare: LOOK WE’VE BEEN OVER THIS WE DON’T HAVE ANY POKEMON

(Brock war cries as he sends out a very anime geodude)

Nightmare: can someone please tell me I’m hallucinating all of this

Brock: WELL, IF YOU DON’T HAVE POKEMON, YOU’LL HAVE TO USE A RENTAL

Cross: What? But rental pokemon always suck.

Brock: YOU MUST PROVE YOUR WORTH SOMEHOW! AND BECAUSE YOU’RE SMALL CHILDREN YOU OBVIOUSLY CAN’T PROVE IT THROUGH SUMO WRESTLING.

Nightmare: I’m fifteen!

Cross: Nightmare I think you’re missing the point.

Killer: Good god, just let them through and let me out of here, they’re the heroes of prophecy.

Brock: PROPHECY

Brock: GOODNESS ME I APOLOGIZE FOR THAT

(Brock returns his geodude)

Brock: YOU SHOULD HAVE SAID SOMETHING

Nightmare: That would have worked?

Brock: BUT! IF YOU WANT TO FREE THIS TINY FELLOW HERE, YOU MUST COMPLETE A DIFFERENT CHALLENGE! FOR YOU SEE, HE TRIED TO PASS THROUGH HERE WITHOUT WRITTEN PERMISSION!


(Killer rolls his eyes. Nightmare squints, literally pulling a notebook out of his shirt. He writes something in it, walking up to Brock and holding it up. It says “Let the guy out of jail you dick”)

Brock: AHA

Brock: WELL

Brock: I CAN’T ARGUE WITH THAT

(He stomps his foot on the ground and the bars in front of Killer go up)

Brock: DON’T BE CAUSING TROUBLE NOW KIDS


(He ascends back into the sky)


Cross: I’m not even going to ask. That entire conversation felt like a drug trip.

(Killer dramatically throws himself onto Nightmare)


Killer: I knew you would come around, my knight in–

Nightmare: Why did I assume that you had become any less creepy in the last ten minutes. Why did I even do that?


Killer: Because your heart told you to.

Nightmare: Dear god stop touching me or I will literally pick you up and slam you into the floor.

Killer: Feisty. Anyway, I figured out why the Great Charizard is freaking out all the time. His tail is hanging down into the room below him and something is chewing on it like all the time.

Cross: What? Then why doesn’t it just, I dunno, pull its freaking tail out of the room like a reasonable creature? Or maybe take care of the problem on its own?

Killer: The Great Charizard is like a five year-old. It’s self aware, but it expects all of its problems to be solved by everyone else and throws tantrums when that doesn’t happen.

Nightmare: Well that’s stupid. Why does everyone act like it’s some holy being then?

Killer: Because it’s a massive, terrifying dragon that can breathe fire?

ok unfortunately this is where the script ends but I hope you enjoyed that

oh yeah, and some extremely old art that I found:

as well as a brief consideration to make the characters human before deciding that I just didn’t want to work on the comic anymore.

basically you will notice that most of this doesn’t have a solid outline, and you’d be right: I never actually planned it that meticulously. I mostly just winged it and threw stuff in over the course of time and never even really planned anything close to a definitive ending beyond “maybe it was a prank”. sorry if this is like… anticlimactic, but it’s all I could find!

[cadomoisspokenfor]

Legion Rewatch Notes,

Chapter 8:

The Revolution

Aw man, how unfortunate what’s happened to Clark. I feel soooooooo bad. I mean he was just humble div 3 agent, doing his job, gaslighting marginalized individuals, participating in a genocide. How cruel of those bad bad mutants to injure him so badly. He was only actively about to kill David. What could he possibly have done to deserve any of this?

In other words, the Clark propaganda is not working on me this time. At all.

Maybe don’t participate in a genocide? Idk :/

I normally hate when people type in the passive aggressive way I have been for the past few paragraphs, but goddamn, Clark deserves it.

He’s not quite as damaged... but he’s kind’ve like old David here, from the over-medicated living with Amy timeline. Again, not quite as damaged as that though.

Clark considers mutants a “threat to democracy.” 🙄 “Moral panic” I guess?

“The second I walk outta this room, i’m going to war.” There’s that word again. Clark could just... not, and they’d probably have more time to figure out how to safely eradicate Farouk. But because he doesn’t and David busies himself with peace treaties, Farouk escapes and continues to be a problem for the next year. Clark has a family. A husband and child who love him to death. And he chooses war over them. This pattern will repeat in other character. Technically this isn’t even the start of it.

Suit change, new cane, same Clark. This really doesn’t change anything, does it? He could go through the rest of the series in the suit he wore before and it wouldn’t make difference. The valiant hero dressing for an expected victory over their long time (relatively) rival, only to be stopped immediately by an unforeseen development. This pattern will repeat... tragically.

Considering Farouk!David woulda just dusted them, it’s probably nice for his friends to see the real him is much less violent. He just stacks em like a Jenga Tower, no need for anything more.

Also, Wilhelm scream from one of the soldiers.

He’s also talking strangely. In an almost too calm voice. Measured. He talks like this a few other times, but I think those times have sadder context. Maybe they reflect on this moment. He talks like how he talked when Farouk was mind-melded with him, but his intentions aren’t evil this time around. I guess this is just his “fully in control” voice.

Clark’s literally shaking where he stands.

The zoom in to Clark’s blind eye is reminiscent to previous zoom in’s to Walter’s foggy eye. I guess Clark has taken on the role of Walter, artificially. Makes sense since he’s now the main D3 representative/antagonist like Walter was before.

“I don’t care if you save me, or the world, if you don’t save yourself.” David will eventually choose himself over the world, and Syd. And Syd will hunt him for it. Goes to show how much things change in s2.

“You know the most dangerous thing about schizophrenia?”

“You’re not-“

“The most dangerous thing is believing... you don’t have it! That’s the trick, the mind killer, your disease convinces you you don’t have it. So, for example, one day in the hospital you meet a girl and she has some friends, and they tell you you’re not sick. You have superpowers. And more than anything you wanna believe it because that means you’re not crazy! That means you can fall in love and live happily ever after. But you know if you believe it, if you surrender to the hope and you’re wrong, then... you’re never coming back.”

“I’m here. I’m real. The power is real. You gotta accept it, otherwise we can’t move on.”

“I was in Clockworks for six years. Drugged, doing nothing. Contributing nothing. And now, finally I can be useful! I can help! Don’t you get it? I am so sick of myself. This only works if it’s not about me.”

“David...”

So... that’s a lot. David believes being crazy means he’s not allowed to fall in love, or be happy. He said the same sentiment to Amy before Clockworks. This whole season and this episode especially push David into his full “I’m not insane, I won’t believe you if you tell me otherwise” mindset. At the very least that’s the stakes we’re playing with. If David fully gives into the hope, even for a moment, he believes there’s no possibility for recovery. No possibility for love or happiness. Why even try after that? It’s life or death for him. “If the choice is between life and death, I choose life.”

I know this is all already known and talked about and circulated 100’s of times over in various fan circles, but it’s probably the most important line for David’s character (the speech, not the Farouk quote). It’s very ableist, yes, but at least in the moment it’s coming from someone who’s just being too hard on themselves, and not ya know, being actively validated by the show.

2 episodes ago David talked about being worried about an “invincible” feeling. The dangers of mania.

We also know from that episode that David is more at peace in a calm, responsibilityless setting (with Syd) than he is out in the real world. David’s gonna take on a ton of responsibility, some of it’s gonna draw him away from Syd. At multiple moments throughout the show David has known his own mental health better than any of the others, and even warned them about potentially dangerous slopes he could fall down without their help. Despite this, David is pushed further down a path he tells them is dangerous and is still blamed for what happens in the end. I feel like Oliver’s line from ep4 is relevant here again, “We are the root of all our problems. Our anger, our confusion, our fear of things we don’t understand.” Everyone wants David to be something other than... David. A hero, a god, there projected image of a perfect partner. Not just... David.

Man, the more I realize about David’s self-awareness in s1 the madder I am at Syd for saying all that ableist stuff to him in s2 as if he wasn’t already down on himself 24/7. “It never occurred to you that you’re the problem not the solution?” It’s occurred to him like 5 times by now and has been shut down by you at least 3 of those times. I don’t understand.

What’s strange is... to my recollection David doesn’t believe he’s invincible at the end of s2. Or that he’s not sick.

“Saint David.”

“I’m not saying that. I make mistakes.”

“Say you’re gonna let them kill me if I don’t let them turn me into something different. Something easy. Something clean.” He sounds sinister here, but it is an indication that he knows he’s not perfect. In fact it sounds like he’s trying to appeal to Chap 1 Syd’s mentality. Your disorder is what “makes you you.”

So what’s the message here?

“We can’t just kill people. Or is that who we are now?”

“That’s who they are.”

The justification for killing here is that they’ll kill them if they don’t. Div 3 will kill Summerland if Summerland doesn’t kill Div 3, is what I meant. David has a similar justification for killing Shadow King in s2. Well, he has a LOT of justifications for it, but that’s one of them. Syd doesn’t hear it then either. She does attempt to kill David herself though. I don’t quite understand where the line is.

“He was gonna kill you, twice.”

“With that kind of thinking wars would never end.”

So... he shoulda just talked to The Shadow King when they were both powerless? Talking is what ultimately ends their fight in s3... hmm...

Cary is more humane to their POW than Melanie and Ptonomy are.

The show doesn’t necessarily say it was Cary’s fault for leaving Kerry. Either way though, Kerry needs some space.

Melanie calls David a “world breaker” and outright says now that he knows that’s what he is, div 3 doesn’t stand a chance. I suppose... knowing that... is why they so readily team with Farouk. They stood no chance otherwise. Even then, at least hide him away till after the intervention.

David’s floating meditation pose is seen more in s2 and A LOT more in s3.

He puts the onus of ending the war on Div 3. As if to say, “If things get violent again, it’ll be on you, not us.”

People keep talking about “gods” “waking up” and “realizing they don’t have to listen to us/them anymore.”

When Clark says it David’s first response is, “Isn’t that the history of the world?” But it’s a red herring (or something else) cause he follows it up with, “People of different nations, different languages, learning to live together?”

Clark is afraid if mutants gain power they won’t show humans mercy or equality. This is a common belief among fascist. The “they’ll treat us like we treat them” argument. Only it’s rarely self-aware, and it isn’t here either. Clark genuinely believes he’s not doing anything wrong. It’s all somehow in “self defense.”

Ah, so Farouk and Syd are connected psychically. He entered her mind whenever she entered David’s. He psychically affects her at multiple points throughout the series.

Syd here is convinced to help The Shadow King by The Shadow King. And while he’s wearing a mask at that. Yeah yeah, this pattern will repeat. But still, Syd gives in relatively quickly here. Perhaps she just... doesn’t fully trust Summerlands capabilities? They are legitimately trying to get rid of Farouk, but Farouk has proven time and time again how dangerous he is. Or maybe the “unmake soup” thing is just that convincing to Syd.

Clark’s still standoffish, but he’s slowly becoming more cooperative.

Syd rolled a 4 on that hero speech. She needed at least a 7.

I legitimately NEVER noticed before that Syd secretly turns on the lab camera feed for Clark to watch. They weren’t trying to show him that.

David gets a chance to look back at his whole life and recontextualize everything.

David straight up halts Farouk’s theme. If Clockworks Podcast is right and he can hear that whenever Farouk shows up, this would be evidence of it. Alternatively, he was halting Farouk, and the music halting was for the audience. A fun subversion of expectations.

David describes him and Farouk as, “The Sun and Moon.”

Division 3 sees it. The monster they saw on infrared. Clearly a separate entity from David Haller. Clearly of a different disposition than David Haller as David Haller has acted very differently and non-hostile compared to when they saw him roaming those HQ halls. The monster and David are not the same. They see who their real enemy is now.

It seems evident there was no chance of David beating Farouk on his own here. I wonder why? Was it true? Is Farouk just too ingrained in his mind? Cary said he was like a, “Computer virus. Learning his systems, bypassing his defenses.” Maybe Syd remembered that, and that’s why she believed Farouk. Cause Cary had already said something similar before.

Clark could've escaped, but he stayed, then tried to help fight Farouk.

I feel really sad Oliver got possessed. It never occurred to me before he could even tell Melanie he remembered her. Melanie’ll just go on thinking he never remembered her for a year.

And thus it’s established. There are “good mutants” and there are “bad mutants.”

No one checks on Ptonomy :(

The Lenny that’s talking to Oliver here is still just Farouk.

Did the orb go back as far as it could? Or was this time specifically chosen? If it was chosen, it was probably because it’s very soon after Farouk had been expelled from David’s head, and before the big race for his body starts.

[ieatmypizzawithaforkandknife]

MAG 016 - Arachnophobia

Summary: Jonathan reads the statement of Carlos Vittery, regarding “his arachnophobia and its manifestations.”

Carlos: “I. Hate. Spiders.” Me: “Cheers, I’ll drink to that bro, guess this is gonna be one of those episodes, huh.” Lo and behold, halfway through listening to this I had a mini heart attack when I thought I saw a spider in the corner of my room closest to my desk. (Spoiler alert: It was a piece of dust. I live for the scares, but I think that, like Icarus, I fly too close to the sun sometimes.)

Anyway, from here on I’ll be formatting the titles of these posts closer to how they’re written on the podcast and, from what little I’ve seen, what’s recognized by the fandom. I still feel like an outsider, being so late to things, but at least my posts won’t look as weird now.

So obviously this episode was about spiders. Well, one spider in particular - and I’ll come back to that. But first I’d like to point out that spiders have come up twice before at this point. The first (and more notable) is in episode 8, when hundreds of spiders burst out of the rotten apple that was inside the box at the base of the uprooted tree at the house on Hill Top Rd. The second was only a mention, and it was in episode 9 (the serial killer episode) when the narrator said, of the shed in her back yard, “As far as I was concerned, the sturdy wooden structure was just the home of spiders’ nests and the rusted garden tools my parents would use once a year to attack the overgrown wilderness that was our back garden.” I almost didn’t include this second one, since it’s so fleeting and seemingly innocuous, but it could indicate some kind of connection between the spiders and the creepy ritualistic murder that was being committed in that shed, which is...disturbing, to say the least.

I find it interesting that the first appearance of spiders had them coming out of a rotten apple though. In this episode, Carlos tries giving Major Tom (the cat) food, but he just sniffs at it and walks away, which Carlos points out is unusual (and any cat owner knows is unusual). At the very end, Jonathan tells us that the coroner’s report said that Carlos had “foreign organic material” blocking his throat (though we don’t have confirmation of what the “material” was) and that “his body was completely encased in web.” But spiders typically wrap their prey in silk prior to eating them. Are all of these things related to that recurring theme of bad/rotten food? I’m not sure yet.

As a sometimes-writer, I appreciated the subtle but definite escalation in the threat of the spider. First, it’s on his kitchen wall - unfortunate, since that’s the room where you go to get food, but fairly avoidable. Carlos shuts Major Tom in there for 2 hours and is none the worse for it. The second time, it’s on his TV screen. Its body was physically between him and something he was going to use, and if he wanted to watch TV he was going to be seeing that spider the whole time. And then finally it’s on the ceiling above the head of his bed. A person’s bed should be a safe and comforting place, a place where you can go to rest and rejuvenate - and this marks the end of the last remaining “safe space” for Carlos, as this thing threatens to descend on him as he sleeps. Excellent writing as always.

Building off of the idea of an escalation in the threat is the idea that there’s some kind of malicious intent in this spider’s presence. “I hate spiders, as I have said,” Carlos says at one point, “but I would have sworn that this one hated me back.” He describes it several times as staring at him, and one time describes its “mandibles twitching with anticipation”. Spiders shouldn’t be malicious, no matter how much a person might fear them or not like them. But this one is. Just like caves shouldn’t be malicious either (episode 15). The world of TMA is a scary place and I’m just glad I don’t live there lol.

Especially scary is the idea that this was all caused by an accident Carlos had when he was a child. He says that he tripped and fell into that spider and its egg sac when he was 6 - and nearly 25 years later it’s coming back to bite him in the ass. But I wonder - was there always something supernatural going on with that spider, even when he was a kid? The story he tells doesn’t have any obvious supernatural elements that I can see, and the “ghost spider” (as Jonathan calls it at the end) only appears after the Jane Prentiss worms. My first instinct would be to say that there’s nothing supernatural at all about the spider itself, and that the spider was somehow...activated, I guess?...by Jane’s presence. But I know spiders are important in the series, so right now the whole thing is a big question mark for me. Which came first, the spider or the worms?

This post is part of a series where I write my thoughts about each episode and obsessively connect dots in an effort to figure out The Big Mysteries of the series. All posts in this series are tagged “is this liveblogging?” Comments and messages are welcome but I have only listened to season 1, so I ask that you not spoil me for anything beyond episode 40. In the words of Jonny Sims…thanks for listening!

(Spoilers for the remainder of season 1 under the cut.)

So I’d like to take a moment to share with you a story about just how much of an Absolute Dumbass I am. Here we go.

I’ve been keeping an ear out for familiar names (of people and of places), so when Carlos mentions his apartment is on Boothby Rd, I did a quick mental check and, nope, don’t believe I’ve ever heard that name before. But wait, it’s in Archway? At that point I hit pause. I thought to myself, I know I’ve heard that somewhere before... Cue me looking back and seeing that’s where Harriett Lee lived in episode 6 (specifically, on Elthorne Rd), and the last known location of Jane Prentiss! Hmm...well, just how big is Archway, anyway? Are those two streets even close to each other? So I pull out a map - and would you look at that, the two roads intersect! I do a little happy dance from putting that together. Unpause. Carlos’ next words were “While nearby Elthorne Road was full of houses and gardens-”. OK, a little disappointing since they “gave” the connection away right there...but it would still take a really good memory (or in my case, really good notes) to remember Elthorne Rd being mentioned in passing 10 episodes ago, right? I no longer feel great, but I still feel pretty good about making the connection. Some 30 seconds later: “Our building had acquired something of an infestation of some sort of insect I didn’t recognize - small, silvery worms, almost like maggots, but slightly longer, and I assume that they provided a good meal for the eight-legged little monsters.” Friends...I cannot describe to you the deep, deep disappointment I felt in myself at this point. Not only had I paused the podcast and done actual research when the answers were literally in the next minute of the podcast, but I had completely forgotten the worms made an appearance at all in this episode. SMH.

[embarrassingresultofmyfreetime]

2020 Masterlist

Here’s a list of all the fics I’ve posted this year! (Listed by category, then chronologically:)

Link to my ao3 where you can read all of these: embarrassingresultofmyfreetime

~

Currents wips:

And They Were Quarantine Mates

An old disease has resurfaced on Earth- one which most humans recover from but is permanently lethal to Time Lords.

Because of this, the Doctor stays on Earth to make sure her humans make it through okay.

And because of the Doctor, the Master- against his better judgement- also chooses to stay.

Reluctant to leave the safety of the Doctor's Tardis, the Doctor and the Master find plenty of ways to pass the time but it can be difficult to enjoy each other's company with so many things left unsaid.

Good thing they have plenty of time in isolation to work it out.

Word Count: Currently 88,172

-

Spyfall: Battle For Humanity

This is a little number I like to call: Roleswap AU with Dhawan!Doctor and Whittaker!Master

It's sort of a rewrite of Spyfall p2 but it's better.

Word Count: Currently 5,688 (will be about 12k when finished)

~~~

-

Main fics (completed):

Please Tell Me Why Do We Worry

Summary: After learning about the final loss of Gallifrey, the Doctor takes some time to grieve and finds herself with surprisingly mixed feelings about the whole ordeal.

To her surprise, a knock at her Tardis door soon reveals the Master not only alive, but in uncontrollable mental agony as he reveals that the Doctor's suffering has been amplifying his own emotions via their telepathic bond.

Note: (After so many kind and positive comments on this fic, I finally gained the confidence to start posting more! A huge thank you to so many people it means so, so much to me!)

Word Count: 5,068

-

Second Chances

When Graham finds a teleportation cube offering an all-expenses-paid vacation, he, Ryan, and Yaz take up the offer and give the seemingly-distant Doctor some time to herself.

After the events of Skyfall 1&2, the trust between the trio and a certain timelord is shaken. However, when their vacation quickly becomes a nightmare, it's up to the Doctor to bring about peace on an upsettingly familiar planet.

Note: (A rewrite/fix it of S11 episode Orphan 55)

Word Count: 7,130

-

All’s Fair In Love And War

Having escaped alive and alone, the Master dwells on his failure and uncertainty at what to do next.

Purely by accident, he runs into a version of the Doctor he's never met before and she gives him a much needed perspective on their relationship.

Word Count: 4,653

-

Truth and Reconciliation

“I... I destroyed a lot of things, but not this... trove of secrets. This is what started it all.”

Missing Scene where the Master goes to Gallifrey and discovers the truth of the timeless child for the first time + alternate ending to The Timeless Children episode

Word Count: 7,563

-

The Doctor Finally Gets Some Rest

(Ch2 update Missy pov)

The Doctor promised to guard Missy for 1000 years, but Missy doesn't mind returning the favor.

Word Count: 5,671

-

I Wouldn’t Wish It On My Best Enemy

"Just deserts appeared to finally be served for the Doctor. All her running had come to an end, all the lives she's taken or caused had finally been assigned a numerical value, and all the morals she had once believed in seemed to crumble to dust right before her eyes.

A life sentence.

She had JUST BEEN TOLD she would never die, and the first thing the universe does is give her a life sentence.

What kind of cruel joke is that?"

Basically: The Doctor reflects on herself while in prison, the Master rescues the Doctor and actually helps her, and idk read the tags

Word Count: 4,629

-

Brand New Reality

In an alternate timeline: The Master is killed in the Time War but the Doctor finds a way to salvage his oldest friend's mind by binding it to his Tardis and building him an android vessel as a way to interact with the physical world.

The Doctor also manages to save the Time Lords from their war- but he is still a renegade in their eyes. As punishment, the High Council uses the Doctor- and by extension the Master- as their personal diplomats/field agents.

The Master isn't too happy about being trapped on the Doctor's Tardis, the Doctor is fed up with being the equivalent of a dog on a leash to the Time Lords, so in a moment of anger and also pure luck- they break out from their world and end up on a parallel one with a very different version of their universe and very different versions of themselves.

(Shalka!Universe Doctor and Master meet their modern counterparts- the Thirteenth Doctor and Dhawan!Master)

Word Count: 10,148

-

The Imposter(s) Among Us

The Doctor has been searching the universe for the Master, but it's only when she takes a break to help a damaged space vessel that she runs directly into him!

The Doctor has a hundred and one things to ask him, but there's no time for any of that now. The ship is barely functional and if the mysterious murderer doesn't get to the Doctor first, then the trigger-happy crewmates might throw her out the airlock before the killer gets a chance.

Word Count: 12,655

-

My Dear, Doctor…

The Doctor investigates an anomaly to find that her previous self has stood up their oldest friend for the umpteenth time.

Confused as to why the Doctor can't recall ever receiving Missy's invitation in the first place, the Doctor goes searching for answers and ends up finding far more letters than just one…

Word Count: 6,657

~~~

-

Series:

And They Were Happy Au Parts 1-4:

Part 1: Dinner and a Show

All his lives, the Master had always believed that he and the Doctor could hold on for about the same amount of time. He always imagined that when they reached their last lives, they would both give all this up and spend their retirement years bickering and raising bees or whatever. The Master didn't particularly like bees, but he had always imagined that the Doctor did and as long as they were together, that was enough to satisfy him.

What he had discovered in the Matrix had proved his ideal endgame impossible.

The revelation that the Doctor was The Timeless Child meant that the Doctor would always live on. They would always evolve and survive no matter what happened. The Doctor would always race to people in need; and now, they would never have any reason to stop.

(AU where the reason the Master wanted the Doctor to kill them both in The Timeless Child is bc he's on his last life)

Word Count: 5,120

-

Part 2: Dinner and a Show One-Offs

"The Doctor did her best to space out her visits with O. For every couple adventures she had with her 'fam', she would stop by his home once or so. Sometimes she let months slip by, because she knew that the longer she waited, the less of O's limited time she used up.

She felt guilty to calculate it, but if O was already in his mid-thirties and he lived a full human life...

Suffice it to say, she wanted it to last for as long as possible. She had never had a situation as stable nor as safe as she now had with O. After everything they had both been through to get to this point, she refused to jeopardize a single moment.

For all the pain the Master had caused her, O was well worth the wait."

(By popular demand, a continuation of 'Dinner and a Show')

Word Count: 10,926

-

Part 3: Unjustifiable

O- having no recollection of his actions as 'The Master'- returns to being Earth's Horizon Watcher.

O is proud of his work and he cherishes the Doctor's frequent visits, but it's becoming increasingly apparent that she's been keeping more secrets about his past than he had theorized.

To make matters worse, the arrival of an advanced species of aliens on his doorstep brings with it a whole new plethora of problems. Something terrifying resurfaces when O hears they're searching for a Tardis and things go terribly wrong.

Word Count: 23,870

-

Part 4: Found Family

The Master finally gets around to seeing the universe in a more peaceful way and runs into a young woman looking for her father.

Word Count: 3,663 (Will possibly be updated at a later date, but complete for now)

~~~

-

Oneshots Inspired by others (specific inspiration in the beginning notes of each):

All Alone In The Dark

While heading back to Earth, the Doctor hears someone calling for her help.

She tracks it back to the Master- injured yet alive- and finds him trapped in his own head, reliving his last confrontation with The Time Lord Council before the destruction of Gallifrey.

Word Count: 1,926

-

You Again

The 10th Doctor and Missy each escape their last canon appearances believing that the other is dead for good.

So imagine their surprise when they run into each other at a party in the 1920's.

Word Count: 6,943

-

Sick Day

The Master has everything set up for his latest evil scheme but when he tracks down the Doctor, he realizes his best enemy is in no condition to fight. So the Master does what any good nemesis does and takes care of him.

Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

Word Count: 2,807

-

Prompt: "Right now, I don't know if I want to kiss you or shove you off a bridge!" "Can I pick?"

The Master’s Tardis had traced the call seven minutes in advance to this exact time and location. He pushed open his Tardis door to find himself in front of some no name bar with graffiti scrawled on the side, situated in front of an empty ravine. He was on Earth, and there was probably a similarly ramshackled city around him, but he didn’t so much as spare it a glance.

The Master’s steps were determined, his jaw clenched, and his hands shaking despite his signature device in hand.

He had been on the other side of the universe, licking his wounds like any old villain would when disappointed by their latest nemesis showdown. It all made his blood boil to have caved so soon. To come back and HELP the Doctor.

The Doctor still had O’s number and her call was scheduled to be made in exactly seven minutes. A hysterical, agonizing call that begged the Master to intervene. He wasn’t sure what was worse, hearing the Doctor in so much despair, or the disappointment that hearing her in such agony somehow didn’t lessen his own.

Word Count: 2,410

-

The Beginning and The End

Prompt: First Doctor, Dhawan!Master, Gallifrey, and the dialogue: "I know my words mean close to nothing for you. But I do, in fact, love you very much."

Basically Theta (Academy Era Doctor) accidentally runs into the Master on a burning Gallifrey

Word Count: 4,499

-

Kisses Like That

The Doctor's never understood why humans enjoy kissing so much- but a certain, somewhat familiar woman piques his interest.

(Missy goes back in time to give 10 a lil kiss)

Word Count: 1,885

Spyvember 2020

Collection of short fics I did inspired by Spyvember prompts (from Tumblr)

Word Count: 15,506 (6 separate chapters)

~~~

Thank you to everyone who has inspired me, commented on my work, read any of my writing, and overall has just supported me in any way this year!! Thank you for keeping me motivated and helping me improve as a writer!

My best wishes to you in the new year! <3

[dotchi13]

How would the bitties react to their owner getting trapped in an abusive relationship? (Two scenarios; asked for help and not asked for help)

Nightmare: 

Asked for Help: The instant he has the go-ahead by his Owner, he will not stop until the abusive S/O is out of the house, whether or not the S/O owns the house, he’s going to make sure they leave, a very protective and sturdy bitty. 

Did Not Ask For Help: Nightmares can sense Abuse from a mile away considering all the negativity it carries, and generally people do not ask for help with an Emotionally Abusive S/O because they think they deserve this- well they have another thing coming.

Because Nightmares can be just as Toxic as they are right back to them. Bad Dreams every Night to cause Insomnia, Snarky Comments Left and Right to every insecurity the abuser has, a practically indestructible body, he’ll make sure to protect the owner even if they don’t ask him to. 

Dreams: 

Asked for Help: They are protective bitties themselves, but fighting is not high on their priority list. 

They will generally try to get ahold of family members or friends the Abuser had tried to cut from the Owner and have them help take their Owner out of the abusive situation. More helpful when it comes to any psychological abuse that Owner endured, giving them the sweetest dreams and wholeheartedly assuring them that they did the right thing. 

Did Not Ask For Help: They still bring good dreams to the Owner to help them Heal Emotionally and Psychologically every day and outside of dreams will actively talk to Owner and insist that this isn’t healthy and they can do better. 

Killer: 

Asked for Help: Did you just give him the Okay to Kill the Abuser? You just did, didn’t you? Well no worries, you just satiated a Killer’s desire to slaughter for a day, though you’ll probably have to help dispose of what’s left. 

Did Not Ask for Help: Actively remarks on the Emotional and/or Mental Abuse that comes out of the Abuser’s mouth, making it very obvious to the Victim Owner any sly tactics their S/O is using is very damaging. 

( “ did you just remark on how you don’t like their friends? funny, no one seems to like you very much either. Is it because you’re as subtle in cutting them out as a brick wall?” 

“ your passive aggressive hostility is delicious. isn’t it delicious (Owner)?” 

“ you say they misheard you? heh, you’re a bad bad liar and we know it, c’mon, give it a little more charm, hold their hand, why not cry a little?” 

“ you’ll hurt yourself if they leave you? you don’t have to do that, just let me out and you can bleed all you like!”)

Horror: 

Asked for Help: Has been dreaming about ways to help you escape, gives you contacts of people actively willing to help you ‘disappear’, everything of his he could grab (Including a bag of food) is ready, let’s go! 

Sidenote, if a Physically Abusive S/O sees you trying to escape the Horror will willingly stay behind to take chunks out of the abuser so you can flee, though this is merely a distraction tactic, may not survive the fight with his limited amount of magic. 

Did Not Ask for Help: Horrors are very passive in terrible situations unless it directly pertains to their family, in which case he gets very hostile. Will actively let you know that the S/O is bad for them and that he ‘Personally wants them dead, but it’s ultimately your decision’, while actively biting hands if they try to touch you and actively argues with them if the S/O tries to get you to give away their Horror.

Teeth: 

Asked for Help: Teeth Bitties are Sweethearts, but they are part of the Horrortale Set, if you ask him nicely for help it ends two ways: 

1. He poisons the Abuser. He will only do this if you tell him to.

2. Tries to contact those closest to the Owner to help them get out while setting up traps around Owner’s things so Abusive S/O cannot sneak into anything without alerting the Owner and Teeth Bitty. 

Did Not Ask for Help: Teeth are just as Likely as an Owner to be Abused with their Passive and Loving Nature, will start getting reckless with their traps to the point it may damage the Abuser if not reigned in. 

Murder: 

Both: Generally a very protective bitty he wouldn’t let this abusive stuff with his owner happen in the first place unless the Abuser messes with them as well, like doing things that make the bitty mentally break down- for instance secretly locking the poor Murders away for hours with no company or outlet, or worse with another Sansy.

He will either kill the Abuser in his own Hysterics trying to protect himself and the Owner, will beg the Owner to see reason and get out of there with him, or will Dust as he will not abandon the Owner he is attached to. 

Toriel: 

Both: Toriels have a bad habit of keeping their feelings locked away until a couple bad events have happened, however there would be a point where she snaps, whether it’s from everything happening for too long, or the Owner asking for Help. The Toriel will probably get in contact with Owner’s Family to see if they will help in confronting the Abuser and taking Owner away from the place. 

If this does not happen she will run away with the Owner, being very precise in not leaving any incriminating evidence behind. 

Raggedy: 

Both: While Toriels usually keep quiet about things until things have already happened more than once, Raggedies have a very short fuse about it and is quite ready to throw down with Abuser if it ever happens again. However they are very easily manipulated and are prone to breakdowns, so it’s mostly up to the Owner to gather themselves and leave when they can as Raggedies are only good in this situation for a fight. 

Queenie: 

Both: More one to face a problem head on she would try and talk to the Abuser once it’s happened the first time. However if they continually push boundaries the Queenie bitty will declare War upon the Abuser with their subjects behind them, no matter how big or small the group is, and will make sure to chip away at them until they leave. 

Empress: 

Before Either Case: The ever elegant and Powerful Bitty known as the Empress will not tolerate Abuse of Any Kind to their Owner. 

Does extensive background checks on those their Owner dates and any Threat of Abuse gets the person immediately removed from the Owner, with a note or text telling the Owner they will never bother them again. 

Mumcher: 

Both: Will Immediately Attack the moment Physical type of Abuse happens, and turn up the dial on her intensity and protectiveness the moment Emotional or Mental Manipulation happens, raises a Parade of Red Flags before the Owner can get in too deep, or if they already have tries to pull them from it with the help of those she can gather to protect them. 

[luna-almighty-god]

Comfort a Little Dream N°9 [Help me. Back me up.]

This story is obviously not canonical, please do not refer to it if you are looking for canonical information.

Careful, there are explicit scenes in this story (violence) !Have a good read!

===

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

===

Dream was in a coughing fit. A painful, unpleasant cough that irritated his chest and throat. His breathing was heavy, difficult. His whole body seemed to be made of stone, preventing him from moving as he wished. And he was so hot ... too hot...

    He painfully opened his eyes. His mind was elsewhere, foggy, making him all the more confused.

    He really wasn't feeling well...

“Tch, drinking in your condition was really the worst idea…” he heard next to him.

    He blinked softly, could only look sideways for a moment, and had great difficulty discerning his brother who was keeping an eye on him.

“... N-Night... ?” he breathed with difficulty, before being caught up by another coughing fit.

    The master of the house frowned, came and put his hand on his forehead and grimaced:

“Shit, like we need this...

- ... wh-what's wrong with me?

- You were already pretty weakened. The alcohol added a dose, not to mention... whatever. Just to say that you've got a nasty virus, and your immune system is too weak to save your ass.”

    Nightmare sighed, moved slightly aside:

“Go back to sleep, you need to rest. We'll wake you if we need to.”

    Dream didn't answer, taking a little while to process the information. He felt... so... tired... 

“...all right... Night…”

    His eyes closed on their own. 

    He plunged into unconsciousness again.

    Nightmare grunted: seeing his brother like that, he had the horrible feeling that he was back to the starting point...

*** ***

    Horror gazed at the wooden plank, where he'd left some vegetables without knowing how to cook them. Was it better to make a soup, a soup... ? And what vegetables could Dream like?     No, he actually didn't give a shit what Dream liked. The most important thing was to know which vegetables were best suited to heal! Like, uh... Carrots maybe? No, that made it kind of nice. Maybe he should give some to Nightmare? Yeah, no, bad idea, actually...

“Hor', what are you doing?” Dust asked as he entered the kitchen with his hands in his pockets.

    The cannibal sighed, put down his knife before looking at his friend:

“I'm cooking for the sick man. Aren't you supposed to be watching him anyway?

- Yes, but he fell asleep. And the boss is already at his bedside. I'm gonna wait for him to leave before I go.”

    He joined Horror and looked at the vegetables:

“You should add tomatoes. It's full of good things for the body.

- Mm... It's true. But it's bad acid, I'm afraid he doesn't like it.

- The most important thing is to heal, right? ... No, you're right. Might as well do something he likes.

- Yeah... it's bad enough being sick…”

    Silence ensued as they both looked at the vegetables and thought about them. Finally, Dust stretched:

“Well, I'll leave you to it, I've got to go and see Cross.

- Cr.... Why?”

    The dustman turned his back on him:

“He didn't come to see Dream once. And quite frankly... It's starting to eat me up.”

*** ***

    Wait a moment, with a heavy head, full of confusion. Waiting for his gaze on the golden reflections, on the little palpitating soul between his knuckles. Observe it as the most beautiful of treasures. The most fragile of crystals. Observe it and cherish it gently. Cover it with a soft, terribly tender and protective gaze, but filled with a bitter guilt, a suffering that leads to tears.

    Cross gritted his teeth, stroked the poor tired heart with the tip of his thumb, without understanding why Nightmare had entrusted him with it. Why to him? Why did he, who had participated in Dream's misfortune, have to watch over the source of his being, of his life? 

    Cross didn't understand. He hated himself for not understanding, and he resented Nightmare. He resented him for trusting him so much, trusting him blindly.     Oh, he should have felt privileged and proud, he should have. But... no, no, he couldn't. Not when Nightmare was risking so much by trusting him with his soul. 

    Cross resented his superior for giving him such trust ....because he knew he did not deserve it. He didn't deserve it at all. Not when he would believe everything about everything, when he would undoubtedly be the cause of further misfortune. An unhappiness that would soon fall upon the guardians of feelings.

    Cross sensed it, and God only knows how much he hated having bad hunches, for these proved to be true most of the time.

    He closed his eyes, continuing to cuddle the little golden soul. The little soul who, for some unknown reason, was curling up in his palm, was looking for his touch. 

    And Cross felt even worse. He felt even worse when he realized that, even after hurting Dream... he still loved him, still wanted to protect him.

    Because Dream was like that.

[Too nice for his own good]

    Cross was suddenly startled when the door of his room burst open, revealing a Dust as neutral as usual ... although his eyes shone with a most disturbing glow.

    Suddenly deeply uneasy, the monochrome stood up, on guard. 

“Dust? Haven't you been taught to knock?" he growled on guard.

- I'm gonna hit you, asshole.”

    The threat contrasted sharply with the calmness of his voice, so much so that Cross thought for a moment it was a joke. But when the other suddenly teleported in front of him and hit him in the stomach, the monochrome grimaced and then backed away sharply:

“Wha... What the hell is wrong with you?!” he exclaimed.

    Dust the shot from the gaze:

“No, Dream is! Then you're going to do me the pleasure of going to see him!”

    The swordsman shuddered, as he did every time the guardian of dreams was mentioned. He looked away, bitterly:

“I'm probably the last person he wants to see.

- What do you know about it? Did you even try to talk to him?

- Don't take me for a fool! You see the signs too! It's bad enough he doesn't want Nightmare anymore, but what about me? He doesn't even want his crown! Because I fixed it for him!”

    Dust clenched his fists:

“So what... you're playing the fatalist? You're not even going to insist? You're just gonna stand back and let everyone else take care of Dream?

- I just... (Sighs)

- ... ...can't do anything? You, who's been his friend, who's spent time with him, who probably knows him better than any of us, you expect me to believe that you can't do anything?”

    Cross swallowed an oath with tears in his eyes:

“...friends... ? I didn't even see that he was in trouble... I betrayed him for his brother... I'm the worst of all...

- Then take responsibility and go see him. So that he can kick the shit out of you.”

    Dust turned his heels without the slightest remorse.

    With his soul tight, Cross took a breath to stay calm. He took another look at the little golden soul, which he had held tight throughout the exchange. This little, trembling, feverish soul, who was just asking for attention.

    Cross sighed. Apparently he had no choice.

    He hid the little golden soul under his clothes, close to his own soul, and left the room in silence, noting that he would still have to have the door repaired.

    The crossing of the corridor was difficult, and when he arrived in front of Nightmare's room - which had recently become Dream's - he froze, with a knotted throat.

    He didn't dare come in. Even just knocking was torture. He nervously fiddled with his scarf, his phalanges trembling with apprehension, while his mind was preaching to him, screaming at him that he was pathetic. Yes, he knew he was pathetic, that he had to take his courage in both hands! But ....he couldn't. He couldn't do it at all.

    He insulted himself mentally, desperate about his attitude, and decided to go back to his room as soon as possible... 

    But he didn't get the chance. No sooner had the idea crossed his mind than he saw with horror the door open, revealing Nightmare who stopped at his sight:

“Cross? he wondered.

- ... hey…”

    The monochrome quickly lowered his eyes, his mouth dry, and moved aside slowly to let his leader out. He watched him do so, before simply sighing and passing him:

“Dream sleeps. Please don't rush him.”

    Cross answered nothing, shyly rushed into the room and found nothing but dead calm.

    He was taken by a shiver.

    Dream, his sweet Dream, was asleep in the bed, his heavy but steady breath filling the room. He was just as adorable as ever, but the dark circles on his face and the sweaty fever clearly showed his miserable condition.

    Cross approached cautiously, tears burning his eyes, but he didn't let them fall.

    Stopping near the bed, he gently raised his hand to the sleeping man's face ... before suppressing his movement and stepping back. He couldn't afford such gestures... not without the guard's consent. 

    Cross sighed again. He sat down on the chair by the bed. The chair where Nightmare, or Ink, sat when they watched over Dream. Even though the Creator hadn't returned for a few days.

    That was one of the reasons Cross had not shown up: he suspected that Dream and Ink must have had a violent argument, otherwise the painter would have come back. What could have happened? What words had been spoken?

    Cross tapped his foot frantically, anxiously. He dreaded the return of the flames...

    One movement froze him clean. He held his breath, listening. Dream had moved but hadn't woken up, fortunately. The longer the time stretched, the less the swordsman felt he could cope.

    Trembling, he began to observe the window, or rather the curtains among which filtered the rare rays of sunlight from DreamTale. The afternoon was well advanced, yet the castle was very quiet. 

    Normally you could hear Killer and Dust bickering, Horror putting music on loudly while he was cooking and Nightmare yelling at everyone. That was the Bad Sanses' daily routine. A hectic but happy daily life, which showed the complicity in spite of all the crap they had done.

    Cross was happy about it. Seeing the Bad Sanses softening, becoming more loving, especially Nightmare, he had thought that Dream would be proud of him, that he would be proud to see that he had been right to believe in them!

    And there was the result: a destroyed Dream, closed in on itself, as if it carried all the misery of the world on its shoulders. 

    Cross had a high heart: how could he not see anything? Not to understand that Dream needed help as much as Nightmare?

    He was really... really the worst friend ever. 

    He took his head in his hands, closing his eyes to stay in control of himself, not to run away in a second. But it was damn hard. It was always hard to face his mistakes, his responsibility, his guilt.

“... Dream ....I'm so sorry... forgive me…” he whispered.

    But the Dream Keeper couldn't hear him, sound asleep.

    Cross sighed, straightened his head feverishly. He got up, approached the patient again to observe him attentively. He was like a caged lion, an impatient but hesitant feline who could not make a decision. 

“... I don't want to wake you up... but waiting like this drives me crazy…”

    He looked away. His pupils fell on the wreath left on the bedside table. His soul missed a beat. He approached it gently, took the object delicately.

    He knew Dream cared about that crown. That's why he had worked hard to repair it, clean it, polish it so that it would fit the young guardian beautifully. He wanted ... he wanted to at least do this for his friend, even if it wasn't much, even if it wasn't worth anything to anyone ... he wanted to show Dream that he was there, present for him.

    But Dream wasn't counting on him anymore.

    He'd never count on him again.

    And this, in addition to crushing Cross's feelings, only made him more confused, and he asked himself again the question: why did Nightmare trust him? Why had he entrusted him with the soul of his twin?

“... Fucking…”

    He clenched his teeth, very nearly cracked:

“... Fucking... !”

    But he froze in the moment. Out of the corner of his eye, he had perceived a movement. Like a jolt triggered by his exclamation. It made him violently pale and, slowly, very slowly, he turned his head back towards Dream ....who was looking at him.

    Cross felt faint:

“D-Dream... !”

    The guardian of dreams, who had been asleep until then, had been awakened by the swordsman's raised voice. At the sight of the swordsman, he finished waking up fully and straightened himself up hastily, before cowering in the bottom of the bed trembling, darting a look of panic and anguish over the monochrome.

“Ah, Dream, calm down!” Cross worried, raising both hands, as if to signal that he didn't have bad attention.

    The guard's eyes suddenly darkened, before he lowered his head:

“...what are you doing here... ?”

    Cross was about to answer but was interrupted by Dream who started coughing quite heavily. Anxious, the swordsman approached to pat him on the back, but the guard pushed back his gesture with a sharp slap on the hand:

“DON'T TOUCH ME!”

    The voice was harsh, but cold enough to petrify the swordsman. 

“Dream... 

- DON'T TALK TO ME! DON'T COME NEAR ME!

-I just want to...

- HOLD YOURSELF! SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP !!!”

    If Cross was upset by these screams, he was even more upset when Dream's face turned pale and his eyes mist up with tears. But what finally brought him down, what gave him a masterful slap, were the desperate sobs of the young guardian:

“DON'T PLAY... D-Don't play anymore... with... with my feelings ....I-I…”

    Dream pulled his legs back against him, hid his wet face in his arms, his deranged voice rising miserably in the room:

“...don't act... like you care about me... stop using me... !”

    His sobs were like a stab for Cross, whose legs trembled under the pressure of his words, his accusations.

“D-Dream, I've... never…”

    The monochromatic man fell silent, his eyes wide open with horror, remembering all the times he had come to ask Dream for help, all the times he had cried in his arms, only to turn his back on him and go back to Nightmare, before starting the same merry-go-round again the next day.

    He, uh... He used Dream. 

    He wasn't a friend, he wasn't anything.

“I-I'm sorry... I…”

    He backed away, horrified at his own behaviour, horrified at what he had done to Dream, without realising that his terror had been felt by the guardian of good emotions.

    Dream raised his head, his throat tight, and froze at the sight of a Cross on the verge of tears. A Cross who had been hurt by his words... just like Ink.

“... C-Cross …” called out to the little dream.

    But the monochrome no longer listened to him, with an empty gaze, as if his terror had disconnected him from reality.

    Dream felt a deaf panic take him. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! He wouldn't... He didn't want to hurt Cross, just like he didn't want to hurt Ink! He only wanted to... He only wanted to ....say what was in his heart, to take his anger out on those he felt were responsible for his condition... 

    Except they weren't the culprits... They'd only been factors in his illness. His negativity, his suffering had been born from an accumulation of too many things, up to the point where Shattered had appeared. Where... where he had given him the final blow.

    Dream rose feverishly, feverish and trembling, his face ravaged by tears. He didn't bother to think, and rushed to the icy tile floor, ignoring his bones, which were crying out for grace to throw himself into Cross's arms, crying, pouring out all his sadness and guilt:

“Cross! Cross please, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I-I!”

    The swordsman seemed to come to his senses. He spun in contact with Dream, hiccuped when, in his chest, he felt their two souls coming into contact, uniting in an emotional bond far too powerful, in a wave of fear and anguish.

    He sobbed back.

    His arms came and grabbed Dream with force, clutching him to his chest, as if for fear of seeing him disappear:

“No Dream, no! It's me, it's my fault, it's all my fault! I should have stayed by your side! I should have... I should have... !

- C-Cross... no... I pushed you to my brother, I encouraged you, I... it's m-me…”

    They couldn't line up a sentence without being cut off by their hiccups, their sobs. Crossed by jolts, unstable one as the other, they fell to their knees, tightly squeezed together, crying hot tears without realizing the situation, nor the place where they were, completely forgetting what was around them. Exhausted and confused, terrified and full of apprehension, they let their feelings pour out without noticing the presence of two other skeletons.

    In the doorway, keeping silent, Dust and Nightmare didn't even look at each other. They were well aware that the situation had not been resolved...

    But a step had been taken. It was always that way.

***

    Killer had a funny idea when he suggested watching a movie, saying that "Dream had to take his mind off things and staying locked in a room wasn't going to help! "

    So the dream keeper had been moved into the living room, lying on the sofa and wrapped in a duvet, while a hot meal stood on the coffee table next to him, within reach of his knuckles.

    Horror, who was watching that he was eating well, had come to join him and was leaning on the couch, but was quickly taken by the film that Killer had chosen: "Isn't Romantic". It was a dumb parody of a musical. Killer was there too, sitting on the floor against the sofa, watching TV with passion.

“Do you really like this shit? Horror asked distractedly, who was himself deep in the plot.

- Yeah... Don't you wonder how she's gonna get home?

- Not really... I'm more wondering who the jerk is who's gonna marry her. It's gonna end up another clichéd marriage to the best friend, that's for sure.

- No, not so sure... He doesn't care about guys. And she's right.

- Wow... you haven't gotten over your breakup with Color toi.”

    Killer tensed up, kept his eyes glued to the screen with some discomfort.

    Dream, listening distractedly to their conversation, looked at the one with the round soul:

“... You were dating Color... ?” he asked in his broken little voice.

    Killer took a quick look at him before lowering his eyes in shame:

“... Yeah. I mean, it only lasted two months…”

    He weighed down, anger and regret poisoned his soul:

“Hell, to think I almost left the team for that asshole…”

    Feeling his negativity, the young goalkeeper straightened up slightly, enough to gently place a hand on his shoulder. Killer was about to question him about his action but stopped when a gentle warmth came over his body, making him shiver with wellbeing.

    Horror looked at them with surprise and perplexity:

“Dream is...

- My aura, yes…”

    Dream avoided their gaze, concentrating on Killer's feelings in order to erase the negativity that was hurting her. When he no longer felt this virulent anger, he withdrew his hand and settled back into the couch, under the circumspect gaze of the other two skeletons.

    Killer went back to the movie, embarrassed:

“... Thank you Dream …”

    The guard looked at him with big eyes:

“... What's that?

- Well... I said thank you.”

    The youngest remained mute, his face being gently coloured without him noticing. He, in turn, looked at the screen again, but could no longer concentrate on the story.

    It was...

[ It was nice to receive gratitude... ]

*** ***

    Nightmare watched tenderly as his twin took care of Killer. Would the guardian of dreams never change? Always worrying about others even when he himself was at his worst?

    This observation, although it made him smile, gripped his soul. He turned his heels quickly, hurried across the corridors to his office and locked himself in.

    Cross and Error were already waiting for him there, one serious and the other annoyed.

    Nightmare turned to the swordsman:

“What's the evolution?”

    The monochrome lowered his eyes and carefully took out Dream's soul. 

    Nightmare and Error tensed up, alerted by the greyish hue of the little heart. The golden glow was no more, as if the poor soul was sinking, giving up.

    This made the Destroyer growl:

“Night, I thought you were handling his negativity.

- I am, but... I was already having a hard time dealing with mine and the whole multiverse. Having to take care of Dream brings me to my limit.

- In short, you're telling me you can't stabilize him?

- No, I'm saying we had to find a solution as soon as possible! Black apples are a poison that you can't get rid of easily, but my brother is 'lucky' to have only eaten three apples.”

    The master of the house walked away to his library, from where he took an old book from DreamTale. 

“Normally, eating one to three apples is 'not much'. The effects wear off quickly. But Dream is the guardian of positivity, so these black apples are harmful to him, they cling to his being like the plague …”

    Cross shuddered, brooded the little soul with his eyes before straightening his head towards his superior:

“But there is a way to cure him?”

    Nightmare put the book on the desk, opening it directly to a certain page:

“I can't say for sure, but we can always try. In a few days, it will be the multiverse ellipse. 

- Multiversal ellipse? repeated Error with a raised eyebrow.

- A very rare event that lasts only a few minutes. A moment when opposites become one, when negativity and positivity blend in perfect balance, to start the cycle of the worlds from scratch.

- What does that basically mean?”

    Nightmare snapped the book shut, looking more serious than ever:

“Dream and I used to participate in this event through a ritual left by our mother. I don't know how it will look today... but maybe it's the solution to cure my brother.”

    Error scowled:

“What if it doesn't work? Is there a risk that the ritual will go wrong?”

    Nightmare didn't respond, which upset the Destroyer:

“I asked you a question.

- I don't know. The ritual has never failed, we've always been in perfect symbiosis.

- Except that today you both ate black apples. I'm not sure the balance is 'perfect'!”

    The master of misfortune felt a deaf rage vibrate him. He glanced at the glitch, his voice getting darker: 

“You don't know until you try it.”

    The atmosphere became colder and Cross became tense, intimidated in spite of himself by the magic of the two other skeletons, which crackled with impatience and challenge.

    Error growled, more threatening than ever:

“My duty is to watch over the multiverse and its balance ... and it's clear that Dream's condition makes him a major threat. So let's get things straight Nightmare…”

    He looked at the guard with a black look:

“The moment I considered him a danger, I would shoot him.”

    Nightmare's tentacles wiggled, whipped the air with a ferocity that he struggled to master:

“Killing him will be like upsetting the balance.

- Do you take me for an idiot? You and your brother watch over emotions and dreams, sure... But need I remind you that you arrived long after the original world, where other AUs?”

    He turned his back on them dryly, creating a portal to his void:

“You are useful…”

    He crossed the gate, his last words resonating in the sudden silence of the room:

“...but not necessary.”

===

Next Chapter

You can support me on my Utip or on my Ko-fi account !

===

Credits =

Dreamtale -> Joku

Shattered Dream -> ErroredArtist’s

Cross ->  Jakei

Error -> Lover The Piggies

Ink -> Comyet / Myebi

Dust -> Ask DustTale

Killer -> Rahafwabas

Color -> Superyoumma

Sugar Plum -> undertale Community (formerly NSFWShamecave ?)

[talpup]

Crossroads:3

Summary: Loss will make a person do terrible things they never thought themselves capable of doing. Things like wanting the mobsters responsible for your little brothers death to pay so badly you’ll summon a Demon to make it happen.

Maya did just that, but little did she know that the Demon would ask for her soul as the price. Or that when she refused give it to him, he would put her in the path of someone possibly much worse.

Kai is offering to help her but what he wants is so much more than her soul. He wants her everything.

Please remember, this fic is rated explicit and has warnings of sex, violence, and other possible triggers.

***If you prefer reading off AO3 here’s the link for that: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23565748/chapters/57546442

3.1

Kai woke up in his bed.  It had been his first full nights sleep all week.  He had never felt so rested.  Slept so well.  And he was sure that that had more to do with who was sleeping beside him than the comfort of his own bed.

Maya. She was so beautiful.  But more than her pretty looks, she had a tender heart and was fiercely loyal.  The perfect woman for him and the new wholesome world he wanted to create.

His hand reached out fingers gathering and relishing soft, shining hair.  Though still asleep, she had seemed to sleep better too.  Instead of her usual fidgeting and moaning, she was quiet beside him.  The thought of making her moan and writhe for far more pleasant reasons filled his mind.

He felt his morning wood harden further in impatient wanting.  But such delights would have to wait.  He had a meeting early this morning.

Getting up, Kai showered and dressed, leaving the still sleeping Maya with kiss to her brow and note on the bedside.  He would've loved to have her seated beside him, or better yet on his lap while he worked; but that was another thing that would just have to wait.  Patience.  Kai told himself.  Like with remaking the world into a better, clean one; he would have to be patient with his darling.

It was far better to go slow and have her bend willingly to his desires than to demand everything at once and chance breaking her to bring her to heel.  She was far too precious.  Too perfect to chance crushing the proud, fierce flame that had first intrigued him.

The morning meeting had gone smoothly.  Yet despite that Kai found himself more irritable than usual.  He kept on getting distracted while he worked.  Thoughts of Maya filled his mind.  It was like that constant running loop she talked about of her brother’s death; only his was of her and far more alluring.

His gloved fingers rubbed together imagining her silken hair.  He breathed deeply.  His nose barely registering the sterile smell of the clean plague mask.  His mind conjuring her scent.

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.

“Kai.” Hari entered the office.

“Where’s Maya?”

The abrupt question gave Hari mental pause though his answer was immediate. “In the library reading.”

“I want her brought here.  She can sit just as comfortably in that sofa while I work.”  Kai said without looking up from the orders he was signing.

Hari looked at the couch to the right.  A sitting area in the office that included a large sofa, two club chairs, and a coffee table.  He was sure the seating would be just as comfortable as that in the library; but wasn’t sure if the woman herself would be.  But that wasn’t his concern. His job was to follow orders.  And so he would fetch the pretty, young woman Kai had chosen as his own and bring her to the boss.

But first he had new to deliver. “It’s done.”

Gold eyes lifted for the first time since Hari had entered.  Kai set down the fountain pen, lacing gloved fingers.

In office Kai wore the more ornate plague mask.  A far more fearsome sight that the simple dust mask.  Hari found himself wondering if the woman upstairs had seen Kai in it. Granted Kai’s physique and piercing eyes made the man imposing as it was but...

“Would you like me to bring it now?”  Hari questioned.

Kai thought a moment.  He remembered what Maya had said last night about waiting the previous day for news that never came.  How she had gotten ever more down and upset as the day progressed.  After what he had told her last night, she would undoubtedly be even more excited today.  The longer he waited, the more she would pout, and the more grateful she would be when the reveal was made.

“No. Let’s wait.”

Hari raised an eyebrow but didn’t question.

Maya was brought in.  The dim, windowless room immediately brightened at her appearance.  Her eyes widened at the first sight of him.  She jumped slight, turning back when the door shut behind.

They were alone and Kai couldn’t help but smile behind his mask thinking of the things he could do to her.  He could take her and break her. With no family to speak of no one would come looking.  His men certainly wouldn’t say a thing.

The thought of bending her over and pounding into her as she screamed had his cock quickly tenting his pants.  His legs widened beneath the desk.  His eyes flicked down for an instant imagining her on her knees between them, tears streaming down as he mercilessly…

“Kai? You wanted to see me?”

Kai banished the arousing thoughts.  Maya was more than some play thing.  While he would have her over his desk and swallowing his dick, there was an order to these things.  The woman that was to be his mate should have a much sweeter first time than some rough desk sex.  He needed to show he that she wasn’t just roll in the hay.  That she was to be his queen. And that so long as she behaved and denied him nothing.  He would always treat he as such and give her everything.

Maya looked around the office.  She was both hopeful and unnerved.  She hoped he had called her in here because one of the men who had killed her brother were dead.  She had said she wanted to see them; and while still true, she found her stomach clenching at the thought of seeing another dead body.  Yet it was Kai’s mask that unnerved her even more.  It was both scary and beautiful.  Kind of like the man himself.  Even as she scanned the room she was acutely aware of it and him.

“Sit down on the couch.”

“Huh?” Maya turned back to him.  She didn’t know what she had been expecting but sitting down on the sofa certainly hadn’t been it.

Kai’s eyes sharpened.  “Sit.  Down.”

His tone and gaze almost had her sitting in place on the floor.  She blamed it on the mask and setting.  Kai was a formidable man as it was.  His deep voice commanding.  But seeing him seated behind a large desk, dressed to the nine’s with a plague doctor's mask on… It both scared, compelled, and somehow aroused.

Kai watched her move to the sofa, admiring the way her hips swayed.  He wished the dress was tighter and his pants looser.  Cursing his insatiable need he straightening in his seat.

Kai nodded, pleased at her expectant expression.  “Just sit there and read your book, Darling.  I got work to do.”

Maya blinked, fiddling with the books pages as Kai picked up a pen and focused his attention on whatever was in front of him.  So this wasn’t about seeing the body of one of her brother’s killers?  Kai had gotten up her hopes she just so he could what?  Have some company?  Something pretty to look at?  She wasn’t even all that pretty compared to city girls she had seen.

She had never had money for rouge or make-up of any kind to enhance her features.  And out of everything Kai had gotten for her, cosmetics hadn’t been one.  She supposed that meant he either liked her looks or disliked cosmetics; possibly both given his affinity for cleanliness and constant touching of her.  It couldn’t have been because the item was too personal.  He had stocked her wardrobe with far more personal things.

Not just undergarments, but underclothes that were meant to be seen.  Her hand flattened against her chest.  There was no doubt in her mind that Kai would eventually want to see those intimates he paid for.  And not just folded in some drawer.

Though she missed the natural light of the library, the sofa was just as comfortable.  Several times throughout the day she caught Kai staring.  Then again she had often found herself staring at him. But unlike her, when she caught Kai watching he didn’t look quickly away.  Invariably she was the one who shifted her gaze as if it had been her caught gawking while Kai continued to shamelessly stare.

After lunch they had returned to Kai’s office and the rest of the day progressed much as the morning had.  When one of Kai’s men entered Maya got to her feet.

“Where are you going?”  Kai’s golden eyes locked on her.

Maya’s eyes darted from him, to the man, the door, and then back. “Don’t you want some privacy?”

“Do you think I forgot you’re there? If I wanted you to leave I would've said so.  Sit down.  Don’t presume to know what I want without my say.”

Maya’s teeth gritted together.  How dare he speak to her like some ranch pet.

“Maya.” Kai arched an eyebrow.

He saw her expression diminish from boiling anger, to simmering ire, then tepid resignation.  It wasn’t the immediate demure acceptance he wanted.  But it was a start and had happened all without further word of warning from him.

Her show of constraint pleased him and he smiled behind his mask. “I’ll tell you if you ever need to step out of a room.  But I assure you, those instances will be rare.”

Maya wasn’t sure how she felt about being included in his meetings.  Was Kai trying to incriminate her so he had something over her head?  But wouldn’t wanting her brother’s killers be enough?  Maybe he was just really lonely and needed a friend.  She knew he wanted her physically.  But sex didn’t require the man to give up his bed, buy her more clothes than she could wear in a year, and have her sit with him all day in his office.

From the interactions she had seen between him and his men, Hari was the closest person Kai had to having an actual friend.  And she certainly wouldn’t call them that.  They were more like a strict, somewhat appreciative boss and an insanely loyal Lieutenant.  It wasn’t like she could disparage Kai for his closed off nature.  Other than her brother she didn’t have any close friends to speak of either.  Friendly neighbors and co-workers.  Yes.  But no real friends.  Maybe Kai’s interest was less about sex and more about friendship?  The thought both soothed and worried her for a myriad of reasons.

It was near dinner time when another knock sounded on the door.  Kai had noticed Maya’s growing dejection throughout the day.  The way she watched the ticking grandfather clock and heaved a heavy sigh. The slight down turn of her lips and cute little pout.

She had yet to question him about the matter at all today, which made him immensely proud. But he wanted further proof of her trust in him.  That she had complete faith that he would keep his word.  That she knew without doubt that he would do as he said and provide for her every need.

“Enter.” Kai called.

Hari entered carrying a tray with a dome covered lid.

Maya sat up, closing the book.  “We’re eating in here?”

“Set it on the desk and stay.”  Kai instructed Hari.  He turned to Maya. “You haven’t asked about the filth my men were tracking.  Have you given up hope?”

Maya frowned.  What was she to say?  Yes?  A part of her had given up hope.  But after spending the day in Kai’s office she was even more certain that Kai wasn’t only capable of doing what he promised but that he would keep his promise.

She shook her head.  “No.  That isn’t it at all.”

“Then what is it my dear?”

“I trust you.”  Catching herself she amended.  “I trust you to do as you said.”

But the first words had already settled in and taken root. Kai had barely heard the correction.  He smiled, heart thudding faster in his chest.  This was it.  She had waited patiently all day trusting him to deliver.  And now she would get what she had asked and he would reap the benefits.  She would be so happy.  Grateful.  For his generous gift that she would fall into his arms with love and thanksgiving.  She would know without a doubt that he would protect and provide for her.  That they were perfect for each other.  Meant to rule the new clean world he was building. She would accept him and be his.  There would be no need for force.  Her spirit and drive would remain intact, and his to enjoy and direct as he willed.

He lifted a beckoning hand to her.  “Come here, Darling.  I got a surprise for you.”

Maya rose and stepped closer.

Kai rolled back his chair.  “Over here.”

She glanced at Hari who stood in front of Kai’s desk, inspecting her out of the corner of his eye.  She was even less sure what to make of the Lieutenant than she was of Kai.  At least Kai seemed to have a will of his own.  But Hari.  She had no idea what the man wanted passed his desire to serve Kai. She wondered what Hari thought of her.  Of all of this.  Surely his loyalty to Kai still allowed for some personal opinions on the matter.

She shivered.  The thought that that would be her if she stayed here any longer crossed her mind.  Would she turn into some servant doing as Kai bid without any sign of freewill or personal thought?  She had already spent the entire day in this windowless office, sitting on the couch all day in fancy clothes more suited for a night out than day lounging around the house.  And for what?  So Kai could have some company.  Something pretty to look at.

Impatient Kai reached out as soon as Maya was close enough and tugged.

His touch wrenched her out of her thoughts.  She gasped.  The urge to pull back was great but she forced herself not to.  Kai didn’t like it when she shrunk away from his touch.  She highly doubted he would like her jerking back.  Especially with one of his men standing right there.  Though he had never been violent with her. She couldn’t imagine that Kai’s response would be kind and understanding if she pulled away from him.

Kai’s gloved fingers caressed over her skin.  “I have a gift for you, Sweetheart.”

“Kai…” Maya shook away the plethora for arguments and settled on the weakest denial sure to please him.  Damn it. Maybe she was already well on her way to becoming like Hari and the rest of Kai’s men.  “You shouldn’t have.  You’ve already given me so me.”

Kai’s slight frown turned up into a smile.  He had seen the contention in her eyes and was glad to see that she had once again reigned herself in.  He was happy he had kept Hari here, to see just how perfect and accepting his darling was.  He didn’t need the man’s approval; but he knew how much Hari cared. Seeing Maya behave so well would surly quell any doubts Hari had that he would never dare voice.

“You deserve it all and more.”  Kai assured the object of his obsession.  “Come.”  He pulled gently on her wrist.  “Sit on my lap so I can give you your surprise.”

Maya’s eyes widened at that.  Surly he couldn’t mean--

Kai’s eyes darkened.  “Come now, Darling.  Don’t make me repeat myself. You know how I hate that.”

Her eyes met his.  The gold edging of the plague mask made his golden hues all but glow.  She swallowed, turning and sitting on his knee.

Kai wrapped an arm around her and pulled her back fully on his lap.

Maya let out a stifled squeak.

“There.” Kai breathed, the days tension easing from his shoulders.  “Isn’t this better.”

It was a statement not question.  And Maya was grateful for that, not sure if she could've come up with an answer that didn’t offend.

“You’re so light, you could sit on my lap all day while I worked.”  His other hand came to rest on her knee.  “Would you like that, Beautiful?  To keep me warm while I worked.”

Maya’s legs squeezed together.  “You’re definitely harder than the sofa.”

“You have no idea, my sweet.”  Kai chuckled.  His hand glided up her thigh bunching the hem of her dress.

“Ka--”

“Shh…” Kai hushed, fingers trailing under the fabric.

She shivered, glancing at Hari whose eyes were now focused on the floor, head lowered.  She would clearly be getting no help from him.

Kai’s fingers hooked around her garter, finally feeling the smooth tender flesh of her leg instead of silken hose.  Maybe he should tell Hari to leave.  Have Maya prove just how good and grateful she was before giving her her present.

Her breath caught.  She had to grab her own hand to stop it from grabbing and stopping Kai’s. This was payment for justice, she told herself.  But Kai hadn’t delivered on any of that her mind argued. He had said his men were close and ready to strike but there was still nothing.  She would have to go to bed another night while the scum that took her sweet brother’s life…

“May I asked what the surprise is?”

Kai’s hand left her leg to smooth her hair.  “So eager for me.”

Maya tried to ignore the bill of the plague mask that hovered over her shoulder and slid the skirt of her dress back down.  She tensed even more as he shifted her.  There was a definite bulge pressed against her ass.

“Go ahead, Darling.  You know I can’t deny you a thing.”  Kai made a gesture.

Hari stepped forward.  He lifted the covered platter and set it right in front of her.  He wasn’t sure about this.  Seeing dead bodies in the street while cowering from a hail of bullets was one thing.  But this… This was different.

He wouldn’t go so far as to dare think this a mistake.  Kai never made mistakes.  But a part of him did wonder if this was a slight miscalculation on his boss’ part. He didn’t know Maya half as well as Kai did but he truly didn’t think the woman was ready this.

“Go ahead, Darling.”  Kai’s gold eyes watched Maya’s shining tresses fall through his gloved fingers.  “Open it.  Lift the lid.”

It was a covered food tray.  Nothing to be afraid of.  And yet Maya’s hand shook.  Summoning her nerve her hand reached out.  Fingers wrapped around the shimmering knob.  The polished silver surface warped her and Kai’s reflection.  For a moment she swore she saw an actual beaked monster behind her rather than a handsome masked man.

Laughter joined the deafening bang of bullets and terrified screams that constantly echoed in her head.  Dabi’s laughter.  She shook her head and lifted the lid.  A new sound assaulted her ears.  A crash and cries. This wailing far louder and more present than the memory that looped in her mind.

Maya barely registered that the crash was from her dropping the heavy dome lid.  And the shrieks still ringing in her ears were her own. She wasn’t sure which happen first.  Her shooting to her feet.  Or clamping her hands over her mouth.

The screaming stopped.

A head.  Kai had given her a head!

Unsteady feet had her tripping to the floor.  Her heart battered her chest attempting to break free.  Break free!  She needed to break free.  She had to get away from that—that thing.  And the severed head on his desk.

“Maya.” Kai rose up.

Maya crawled back.

Kai stalked after her.  “Stop this nonsense.  I gave you what you wanted.  Be grateful.”

Grateful! Grateful for what?  That he hadn’t cut off her head and served it up on a platter.

She back into something and spun around as if it were an attacker. Seeing the coffee table, she got to her knees and pushed herself up on wobbly legs.

“That’s better.”  Kai’s knuckles brushed down her back.

“Don’t touch me!”  She would’ve lashed out.  Almost did.  But something in Kai’s expression stopped her short.

This wasn’t the kind of man that would take that kind of slight without responding in kind.  Especially while one of his men were there.

Kai grabbed her by the arms.

Maya winced at the bruising grip.

“Is this not what you wanted, Darling?  You wanted the men dead.  Wanted to see them.  I only gave you what you wanted.”

Her eyes squeezed shut.  Even though the lid now covered the gruesome sight, she could still see it.  Hear the clatter of the lid as she dropped it.  Hear the screams.  Her screams.  No.  This might’ve been what she asked for but this wasn’t what she wanted.  More than that…

Her eyes opened.  “He wasn’t there!”

Kai’s golden orbs bore into hers. “What’s that, Sweetheart?”

“I remember everything about that day.  Every scream and cry for help. Every face.  He wasn’t one of them.  That man--”  She shook her head.  “That face!  It wasn’t there.”

Kai’s hands eased their grip.  His darling wasn’t ungrateful.  Only concerned that they had gotten the wrong man and an innocent had been murdered.

Pulling her into an embrace, Kai assured.  “I’m aware of that, my Love.  But those men are higher up Shigaraki’s chain. They will take time to find and take out.  This man worked for Shigaraki too.  He’s no innocence.”

“I don’t care about your sick little plan to cleanse the world!”

Kai pulled back.

A sharp, loud slap sounded in the confined space.

Maya held her burning cheek.

Kai’s other hand lifted to hold his own, as if slapping her had somehow hurt him.  “You will not speak like that again.  Not just to me.  But ever.  My plan is for the greater good.  For us.”

“Us? There is no us!  There never was.  I’ve known you for a week.  And now, I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to forget I ever met you.”

Kai watched Maya make for the door.

Hari stepped in her way.

Maya did her best not to tremble.  “Tell him to move, Kai.  Please.”

Still so polite despite this little spat.  Hurt and disappointed as Kai was he took solace in that.  His darling still loved him.  Still cared. She was just frightened.  Upset.  He should've been more certain she could handle such a sight.  Should’ve told her that it would take more time to get to the men that had killed her brother.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.” Maya hated the pleading sound of fear in her voice.  As if she were asking more than saying.

Kai gave Hari a nod.

Surprised as Hari was, he moved out of Maya’s way.

She door opened.  The sound of her racing footfalls echoed back to them.

“Shall I have her stopped at the door?”  Hari questioned, wondering what had come over Kai to let her leave.

“No. Take the car. Follow her home.  Make sure no one touches her.  Let her see that she has nowhere else to go.”

3.2

Maya had gotten off the bus just outside the town she had grown up in. Turning away from the sleepy little place she walked the dirt road that would take her home.  Just the thought lifted and crushed her heart.  The place was filled with memories of a brother whose voice and laughter would never fill the place again.  Whose sunny presence would never--

“Back so soon, Dollface?”

Maya spun around swinging. She hadn’t meant to.  It was purely reactionary.  Despite the twenty minute wait at the station and two hour bus ride, she was still on edge and afraid.

Her hand hit nothing.  She blinked in the half moonlight, looking about. She saw Dabi a few feet away smiling.

“You really are a spitfire, aren’t you, Sweetheart.  Can’t say a human has ever tried to hit me before.”

“Then I must be the first human you’ve ever met.”

Dabi laughed.  “Glad to see your short time with Kai hasn’t dulled that sharp tongue of yours.”

Maya sucked in a breath, eyes widening at the sliver stud she saw when the Demon stuck out his own tongue.

Dabi grinned, turquoise eyes glowing.  “You like that?”

He licked around his lips, the piercing glinting in the moonlight.

Maya stared wondering how she hadn’t noticed the thing before.  Then again she didn’t go around paying attention to other peoples tongues.

“You’ll like it even more once you feel it.”

“I don’t like it.  And I don’t want to feel it.”

Dabi crossed his arms. “Well that’s just rude.”

Maya continued walking to her home.  “Sorry.  It’s been that kind of day.”

“Didn’t like Kai’s gift?”

Maya spun around.  “What do you know of it?”

“Just that a severed head isn’t exactly that kinda gift I would give my woman.”

She made a face and turned back, kicking up dirt as she walked.

Dabi appeared right beside her, and matched her steps.  “Care to know what kind of gift I’d get you?”

“No.”

“Come on, Dollface!  You know I’d spoil you rotten.”

“You’re rotten and I’m not anything of yours to spoil.”

“You’re right.  It’s best that you don’t know.  It’ll ruin the surprise.”

“I’ve had enough surprises for a lifetime.”  Maya muttered.

Keen ears hearing Dabi smiled.  “Then it’s a good thing you wouldn’t be alive to receive my many gifts if you chose me.”

“Chose you?  This isn’t some silly, twisted romance!”

“You’re right there, Sweetheart.  It’s so, so much more.”  Dabi looked her over.

“Stop looking at me like that!”

“There’s nothing wrong with looking.”

“At least you can’t touch.”

“The Witch tell you that?”  Dabi questioned.

Maya’s head turned.  “It’s true.  Isn’t it?”

Dabi’s head moved side to side.  “Depends on what you mean by touch?”

“Why am I even asking you.  You’d just lie.”

“Now there’s where you got it wrong, Darling. I can flat out lie.”

“Well you certainly lied when you did whatever you did that had me suddenly in the city getting mowed down by Kai.”

“What? Was he not so taken with you that he offered to give you your so call justice?”

“It is justice.  And he was more than taken.  He was obsessed.”

“Obsessive people attract obsessive people.”

Maya stopped in her tracks.  “What’s that suppose to mean?”

“Exactly that, Doll.  How many people do you know would summon a demon to help them off eight men?”

“Eight mobsters!  Mobsters that shot up a street and killed innocent people. That killed my brother and walked away without the cops doing a thing!”

“And I’m sure Kai can reason out his obsession for you just as eloquently.” Dabi shrugged.

“You’re insufferable.  What happened to ‘see you in three months’?”

“Just checking in.  Reminding you of my offer.  All you gotta do is say my name.”

“I’m not giving you my soul.”

“So you rather give it to Kai?”

“No.”

“That’s basically what he’ll demand, Sweetheart.  And trust me when I say that he won’t ask half as nicely as I have.”

Maya rubbed her cheek remembering Kai’s slap.  It hadn’t been hard enough to mark.  More of a sting and surprise.  But it had certainly left it’s mark in other ways.

“I’m not going back to him.”

“Then where will you go?”  Dabi questioned, eyes taking on an eerie light.

“Home.”

“Good luck with that.”  Dabi laughed.  Before she could say anything he asked.  “And what about your revenge.”

“Justice.” Maya corrected.  She resumed walking, calling over her shoulder.  “I’ll figure out my own way to see it done.”

She felt a moment of relief when Dabi didn’t follow.  But that quickly disappear, faster than the Demon had, when she turned at the meeting of roads. The towering trees and scrub brush along the roadside had hidden the sight from view.  But not anymore.

Maya stood in the middle of the crossroads. The half moon shined down on the empty space where her home had been.  The house was gone.  Sparse skeletal remains of support beams were all that remained.  The moonlight casting long shadows of the chard, leaning wooden.

She fell to her knees.  She didn’t care about losing her stuff.  But her brother’s.  That was all she had left of him.

She carried a small photograph of him in her wallet but that had been left at home the night she had gone out to summoned a demon.  It was gone. All of it was gone.  Every last thing she had of him cinder and ash. She literally had nothing left but her vengeance now.  And vengeance was exactly what it was.

No longer did she want the men who had killed her brother just to die for their sins for justices sake.  She wanted them to suffer.  To make them hurt.  Make them pay.  And there was only one way she could achieve that.  Only one man who could and would help her.  Who had said he would deny her nothing.

Dabi had said Kai would basically demand her soul.  But giving her soul up for the rest of her life was better than giving up her soul for eternity.  Right.

Depending on your view, good or bad stuff going down next chapter.  Things are about to get complicated, and spicy.

If you enjoyed reading this at all please comment and let me know. Since I post for free, think of it as nice way of leaving a tip.  And since comments are the only thing that encourages me to keep editing and posting, it’s also a benefit for you.

Thank you to those who have left hearts.  And a VERY special thank you to those who have recently left comments or re-blogged. They REALLY mean a lot.

As always, an extra special thank you to @inorganicone2230​ for their encouragement and friendship, and reading through the first half of this chapter. This fic started as an idea back in January when they said they’d like to see me write a Kai centered fic.  Through their questions and inspiration Crossroads became a fleshed out story.  They even came up with the title and female insert/oc’s name.  I might be the one writing this fic; but it’s as much theirs as it is mine. It probably wouldn’t be happening if it weren’t for them.  It certainly wouldn’t be happening this soon if it weren’t for them.

Taglist: @shadynebula​