#and manipulated him to help make it happen

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Seventeen

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader - AO3 - 4K words Tags: 18+ mdni. nurse!reader. PTSD, references and descriptions of domestic violence , grooming, manipulation, pregnancy. Simon's back story. Trauma. Bun opens up a bit more. Domesticity, feelings of anxiety, self doubt. Simon is a nervous dad. Emotional confessions.

“It’s Beth.” Simon wipes the countertop, chasing little dirty fingerprints with a wet cloth, before fixing a hesitant set of eyes on yours.

“That’s pretty… I like it.” There’s something odd about his expression, something haunted almost, a deep, dark well filled to the brim with rancid, stagnant water. You sense it immediately. “What’s wrong?”

He motions to the chair and slides your mug into your waiting hands. “Sit.”

“Simon?”

“It was my sister in law’s name. My brother’s wife.” Was. Your throat goes dry, muscles tensing.

“Was?” He pulls your fingers into his, cradled in the palm of his hand, thumb rubbing circles into your skin, over and over on a loop. A mechanism of comfort, connection. A thread stitch into the fabric between your heart and his.

“They died, sweetheart. My family… I lost them.” Grief, a shared experience you know now, froths in the pit of your heart. You tremble, he holds you steady, though it should be the other way around.

“What… what happened?” He sighs, dragging your palm to his lips.

“Let’s sit down on the couch.”

He holds you as he talks, diaphragm rumbling against your ear. You’re laid on his chest, unable to see his face, watch his expressions, but for this, you don’t feel the urge to dissect each one.

You’re content against him. Listening. Mourning.

There’s a swath of silence afterwards, and then he clears his throat. “So, I was dead. Dead until I met Johnny, I think. And then everything changed.” Johnny’s words from weeks and weeks ago make more sense, Simon’s actions and reactions rapidly gaining clarity. “When we found you, I saw it, the look in your eyes. It was the same one that used to haunt my mother’s.”

“You saved her.” He burrows his face in your neck and shakes his head.

“I did what I could to piece them back together. Helped get Tommy clean and on his feet, got rid of the old man for good, but the damage… the way she suffered, it was irreversible. The best I could do was be there as much as often as possible.” You comb through his hair, short strands of silk like Penny’s, and hold him close. “I promised myself, when I met Johnny, when we fell in love, I’d do better by my own family. For him, and then by Penny. And now you. Promised I wouldn’t become him.” Your heart clenches, squeezing in on itself. “Violence may have been a part of my job, but it wasn’t a part of me.” His fingers dance along your spine until they reach your chin, tilting you back to meet his gaze. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.” You whisper, leaning into his touch. He doesn’t need to ask for your trust, he already has it.

“Johnny thinks I’ve got a bit of a savior complex now, but I want you to know… that’s not what this is, bunny.”

“I know,” you clear your throat, fighting through the thick of emotion building there, accumulating in heaps, “I know that.”  

“But we do need to talk about him, you know that?” Darkness creeps along the wispy, dream-like cocoon the two of you built on the couch, and you push it away, try to banish it, basking in the comfort of his arms instead.

“I can’t, I… right now it feels like I’m in a dream where nothing hurts and nothing can scare me or hurt me, and I don’t-“

“You’re not in a dream, bunny. That’s your reality. This is real. Nothing can, or will, hurt you, scare you. No one will ever touch you again.”

“I need more time. Please.” Simon sighs, but doesn’t push, and the two of you lay there, together, suspended in comforting silence. For another moment, your world is a dream. A safe, beautiful dream, where happy endings are real, where love stretches on for eternity, unconditional, limitless, unbreakable.

You’re so different now, stark changes shocking to the girl you once knew, the one who doubled back on her routes to and from work, the one that walked everywhere with her hackles up. Little pieces of black rot now turned a blinding white, a brilliant beam seeking to shine on the whole of your life.

It’s a dream.

One you won’t easily surrender.

“I was really young.” It comes during a lapse in conversation, practically a blurt, an interruption pushing heat to your cheeks. Expelled from your mind, your body without choice, cracks appearing in the preservation that you’ve so defiantly clung to. You have to tell them, eventually. You have to break it all apart, let them see. Johnny’s mouth opens, and Simon’s hand darts to his wrist faster than a snake could strike, a clear signal. Don’t speak. “Obviously now, looking back on it, I realize I was groomed, or I guess, easily influenced. He was older, and I graduated early, started college early. I was in my second year when I turned eighteen. My mom,” the lump in your throat nearly chokes you until you swallow it down, “my mom busted her ass for me. I went to college on scholarships and her hard work.” Metal clanks against ceramic, forks settling on the edges of plates. “Anyway, everyone always thought I was a know-it-all and pretty awkward. We weren’t officially like, together right away but it was pretty serious from the day I met him. Eventually… he started to change me. Change my goals. He even manipulated my career path.”

“What did you go to school for?” Simon asks casually, head tilted.

“Bioscience. I wanted to be a doctor, so I thought it would transition well for med school. Thought I could become a surgeon.” You were a girl then; you know that now. Naïve, misguided by a hand that sought to control you, not love you as you hoped. It’s embarrassing, baring this, showing these broken bits and pieces to them, shattered shards of a mirror never glued back together.

“What happened?”

“He did.” Johnny squeezes your hand. “Made it to pre-med but ended up leaving and starting a nursing program instead. It’s what he wanted, and by then, I couldn’t say no.”

“But ye didnae want it, to be a nurse.”

“No. I didn’t. I love my job now, of course, and I’m happy in it, but originally, I wanted something else. He tricked me, in all honesty. Showed me something that wasn’t real, reeled me in, and then revealed his true colors.” You shudder. “The first time… the first time it happened, I shook it off, forgave him. I-“ the memory is still so strong, it stuns you. The blood from your busted lip is fresh on your tongue, sting on the side of your face turning to a blooming ache.

“Bunny?” Johnny’s grip moves to your elbow, strong, but not too tight. An anchor. You shake your head.

“Sorry.”

“Ye’re alright, ye can stop if-“

“No, I… I want to share these things with you. It feels like I’m supposed to, like you should know me… like this.”

“We already know you, sweetheart. Don’t push yourself.” Simon’s tone is serious, and you nod.

“It’s embarrassing, looking back on it and realizing how bad it was, how bad I let it get. How I let him cut me off from everyone, change my career, squash me like a bug.” You laugh, but it’s empty.

“Ye did nothin’ wrong,” Johnny’s lips press together, muscles in his jaw straining, “was never yer fault.” You don’t answer, just trace the woodgrain of the table, texture moving beneath your fingers. The conversation is draining you, leeching light away like a horizon swallowing the last of the sun.

“He’s rich. Like, fuck you money rich. Rich like make problems go away rich, and his job…” your head shakes again. It’s the most you’ve ever said, heavy buried secrets finally dug up, resurrected, the truth trembles through your bones. “He has resources. Has chased me across the globe more than once. My only saving grace is that when he has to work, he has to work, and it’s usually for long chunks of time.”

“I know you’ve said you’re not really sure, but did he ever tell you what his job entails?”

“He’s in the military. Some sort of security work, department of defense, or something. He never really talked about it.” Johnny shifts in his seat, antsy, and you shrug. “He kept that part of his life very, very private. There was even a room in the house that was always locked.” Your head is heavy, lead upon your shoulders, and Johnny tucks his arm around you, pulling you into his chest.

“I know this is hard bun, but ye’re so brave for us. Lettin’ us know ye this way. I’m proud of ye.” He murmurs, lips to your forehead, and you fully relax, wrapping around his middle.

“I’m tired.” You whisper, eyes closing, and he rubs your back.

“Let’s get ye to bed then.”

“Your child is too big for me to carry!” You announce, hand on your hip, little backpack straps looped around your arm. Simon closes the door behind you, chuckling, and Penny plops onto the floor. She goes to a nursery day program now a few days a week, something that was a contentious subject in the house for far too long, opinions and arguments ping ponging over your head until the decision was finally made.

“It’s not safe.”

“Ye cannae keep ‘er locked up here forever, love.”

“Why not?” Simon bounced Penny against his chest, unimpressed look on both their faces, so alike you almost busted out laughing.

“Because she’s a child. She needs to be w’other children, not just us.” Johnny brings his free hand to his lips, squeezing Simon’s wrist. “I know ye’re scared.” Simon’s not the only one who’s scared, you thought. Phillip lurked at the edge of your mind, worry that he might find Penny plagued you, even though they both assured that wasn’t their main concern.

“She’s too little.”

“Simon. We agreed on this,” Johnny gives him a sharp look, “do yer research, find the best one. Ye know this needs to happen, for her. She needs to make friends, learn how to interact with kids her own age. Ye know this.”

“Fine.”

“She cannae be, not m’wee lamb.”

“She is.” You rub your shoulder. “Sheesh.” Penny’s stomach gurgles at your feet, and Simon grimaces.

“There’s a bug goin’ around the kids, teacher told me today.”

“Not surprising. Nurseries are little petri dishes.” You straighten your back, rolling your shoulder, and wince.

“Hurts?” Simon’s thumb digs into the soft spot there, and your lashes flutter.

“Maybe ye need a hot bath,” Johnny suggests, and Simon ushers the two of you up the stairs.

“I’ve got Pen. Go relax.”

“This is nice.” Johnny soaps your back, lavender and vanilla steam swirling around in the bathroom as you lean against him, his chest to your back.

“Aye.” The cloth drags across your chest, teasing your nipples, and you revel in his touch, soaking in every second he gives you, the brush of his cheek against yours, his lips on your neck. “Like havin’ ye all to myself sometimes.” You blink.

“Does it bother you? When we’re not all together?”

“No. Ye have a relationship wit’ me, and wit’ Simon, and we have a relationship all together. No one is the same. I like it.”

“Me too.” You settle again, loose and tender in the bath, soaped hands running up and down your back, kneading your shoulders, releasing the tension coiled in your bones. You groan.

“Feel good then?”

“Yeah.” He presses a hand over your heart with a deep breath, before he takes another.

And then one more.

“What’s wro-“

“I love ye bun. Wholly. Think ‘ve loved ye since the day I opened my eyes to ye leaning over the bed in hospital.” You turn, twisting to face him, and he dabs your nose with his thumb. “I dinnae have any expectations of ye, or yer feelings, but I had to be honest. I had to tell ye.” The confession fights its way forward, begging to be let out, to be freed.

Tell him. Tell him the truth. Tell him you love them, that they’re your light, that they’ve chased the darkness away and replaced it with the sun.

You can’t.

Instead, you rest your forehead against his, syncing your breathing, sharing the moment, holding onto him so tight in case he slips away.

“I can’t say it.” You whisper, and he nods. “But that doesn’t mean… it doesn’t mean it’s not there. I’m just… I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“An’ that’s okay. I’ll wait, I’ll wait for ye as long as ye need.” There’s no pressure, no demands, just Johnny and his arms, his understanding and patience, his love.

You blink back tears and crash your lips to his. “Thank you.”

Your stomach is what wakes you.  

Something it in is burning, tossing bile around, the sensation strong enough your lips curl, and you try to draw a deep breath through your nose.

You wriggle, trying to pull free from where you’re tangled up in Simon and Johnny, carefully and slow, hoping to avoid waking them though you know even in their dreams, they sleep with one eye open.

 Still, you manage to make it to the bathroom before feet are padding across the carpet on your heels.

You sink to your knees in front of the toilet, stomach bubbling, sending the scorching remnants of dinner up your throat.

The door clicks open. “No, get out. I don’t want you to see-“ you gag again, tap turning on at the sink, a cold washcloth folding over your neck.

“Shhh,” Simon murmurs, rubbing your back, “get it all out.”

“Oh god,” another wave swells, and your muscles tense, body expelling bits of bile and not much else.

“That’s the way, good girl.”

“This is gross.” You gasp. “You should go back to bed.”

“I’ve seen way worse than you puking, sweetheart.”

“She alright?” Johnny half yells from the bedroom and you groan. The guilt of him having to maneuver himself out of bed, still not one hundred percent healthy, still not back to full strength, draws a shiver from your spine.

“I’m fine, don’t come in here!” Your stomach pitches, fingers tightening against your thighs, but nothing comes up, again and again, until everything settles and you’re breathing deeply, steady, back straight.

“Let’s get you some water.” There’s no point in arguing with him. He’s going to do what he wants to do when it comes to taking care of you, you know that now. It’s painfully clear as he tries to help you drink from the glass, and then puts toothpaste on your toothbrush.

“I’m fine.” You assure weakly, but he only watches you, concerned.

“Think it’s the nursery bug?”

“Probably.” You sag, energy drained completely, and he steadies you, cupping your cheek. His touch is cool, and you lean into it, savoring the reprieve it brings against your throbbing temples.

“Want to go back to bed?”

“What if I throw up again?” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll jus’ clean it up.”

“Can I ask you a question?” You glance up at the timid mouse of a nurse, brand new, fingers clutched around a tablet like she’s drowning and it’s her life vest.

“What’s up?”

“Can you… can you look at these orders for me?” She looks terrified, and it tells you everything you need to know. She’s probably caught a mistake.

Baby nurses begin their careers in a delicate position. They’re overwhelmed, fresh off a whirlwind of orientation, overloaded with policy and procedure, and depending on their preceptor, either somewhat prepared or completely lost. Pitting a baby nurse against a provider, even a first-year resident, is like sending a lamb in to confront a lion. The result is usually tears.

She hands you the tablet and you spot it immediately. Incorrect dosage.

“Good catch.” You reassure, coaxing a small smile, and she nods.

“What do I do?”

“We go find the provider and clarify the dosage.” You’re not going to leave it up to her, alone, hang her out to dry and probably get run over by whatever moron ordered it in the first place, who happens to be-

Marshall.

Your eyes couldn’t roll any harder. “The pharmacy is also very on top of seeing errors like this, but it’s good you’ve noticed too, for the patient and yourself. Liability for things like this can be very tricky.” She nods again, trailing behind you, brand new squeaky sneakers echoing your own steps.

You can’t stop the sigh that escapes you when you find him, leaned up against a wall, arms crossed, smirking, cocking his head at your companion. “What’s up?”

“Can you take a look at this for me?” You purposefully zoom in on the meds tab, practically painting a bullseye around his error. He scoffs, defensive immediately, dismissive, before he takes a closer look, jaw clenched.

“That’s my mistake.” You blink. Marshall rarely ever takes responsibility so gracefully. Your eyebrow lifts.

“Care to fix it?”

“Of course.” His agreement is punctuated with a smile, though it’s off kilter.

“You can go,” you nod to the nurse, “good job.” Her eyes dart between you and Marshall, and without another word, scampers off.

“She’s new?” His usual interest in new nurses is less enthusiastic than ever.

You hate Marshall. He’s a scumbag. But he’s also been your coworker since day one, and you can’t help yourself. “What’s up with you?”  

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve never owned up to a mistake that quickly, and you didn’t even make some smart-ass remark. Or berate her. Or give me an attitude.” He winces.

“It’s nothing.” But it doesn’t seem like nothing. It seems like something is wrong, like he’s sad, or depressed, and try as you might, your bleeding heart can’t walk away.

“What’s wrong.” You phrase a statement, a demand, instead of a question, and he blows a frustrated breath.

“It’s… I’m seeing someone.” Your eyes go wide.

“Who?” Please don’t say a nurse, please don’t say a nurse, please-

“Anna. From radiology.”

“Oh my god. The cupcake girl?” Anna was a fan favorite. Not only was she kind, but she was also quick with her reads, and baked cupcakes for the entire floor almost once a month. As far as radiologists go, she was better than most.

“Yeah.”

“Okay…”

“I really like her but… she’s always been aware of my reputation and is trying to take it slow. Too slow.” You could lecture him with a million reasons why she’s in the right, but it doesn’t seem like he’s got the resolve to handle it.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s dragging her feet. Doesn’t want to hang out more than once a week, rarely stays the night. I’ve been to her place a handful of times, but that’s it.”

“How long has it been?”

“Two months.” You laugh.

“That’s it?”

“It’s a long time for me!” You hold your hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay, but seriously. Two months is no time at all. Have you discussed the… reluctance with her?” He seems uneasy, and for the first time, you’re not sure if you enjoy watching him squirm.

“Yeah. She says she’s happy, but isn’t trying to jump into anything,” his air quotes carry a whiff of the condescending asshole you know too well. This conversation couldn’t be timelier, and you think back to what you told Johnny the other night.

“Just because she’s taking it slow doesn’t mean her feelings for you aren’t there. You have to respect that. If she’s still putting up with you after two months, I’d bet she’s just being cautious. Getting hurt sucks.” He nods thoughtfully. “Give her the time she’s asking for, and don’t give up.”

Don’t give up.

The sentiment twists a knife lodged deep in your heart. Is that what will happen to you? Will they give up? Get tired of waiting for you to spill all your secrets, get tired of waiting for you to take the final step? To tell them you love them?

Get tired of waiting for you to let them use your real name?

“I didn’t expect her, didn’t expect to feel this way.” The mask comes down, revealing a hopelessly lovesick heart, the depth of it shining in his eyes.

“I don’t think anyone ever does expect it. That’s the surprising thing about love, I guess.” You sway, a palm pressed to the wall as your hand flattens over your stomach.

“You alright?” Marshall’s voice is far away as you breathe through your nose, trying to fend off the nausea tightening your throat.

“Sorry, I’ve been a bit under the weather. Think I’ve got a bug or something.” Your stomach roils in warning, and you barely grit out an apology before dashing away.

Just in time to toss your breakfast up in the toilet.

“I’m fine.”

“I heard you in the toilet. You didn’t sound fine, and you shouldn’t be working if you’re sick.” Your manager shakes her head like she’s disappointed, and you glare. You both know if you had called this morning talking about a stomach bug, she would have told you to suck it up unless you were actively vomiting.

“Look around. Do you see an excess of nurses on the floor?”

“We’ll manage. Or call someone in.” You shake your head.

“We’re already way past policy ratios.” You bite your tongue when safe nearly slips out, not wanting to piss her off. That’s the union’s job.

“At least go sit down or something. Take a break. Come back in twenty minutes and let me know how you feel.”

Your closet is cozy, and for once during the day, unoccupied. The nausea has subsided, for now, and you shoot a text to the guys, asking about Penny. If you feel like this, you can’t imagine how she feels.

You curl up and imagine you’re home instead, maybe in bed with a sleeve of crackers and some soda, warm chest at your back, a hand stroking over your hip. Maybe you’d have some soup, maybe the three of you would watch a movie after Pen went down for bed. You start to drift in the domestic fantasy, sleeping curling itself like a blanket over your shoulders, until you’re startled by the vibration of your phone, foot kicking forward in a jolt against a shelf.

A box falls to the floor.

HCG strips.

You stare at it for a long time, numbers and dates and weeks mashing together, calculations getting lost in the fray.

You’re not…

No.

Ridiculous. Not even possible. You’re on the pill. Religiously.

You have the nursery bug that Pen brought home. Get a grip.

Still…

You use the fifth-floor bathroom, one of the only single occupant toilets in the whole damn hospital, nausea now coming from a completely different source.

The timer on your phone is incredibly slow, or maybe it’s just time itself, the world turning in slow motion, every second elongated into turbulent silence, too many thoughts, too many feelings, too much of everything to tell where one ends and the other begins.

Fear.

Anxiety.

Panic.

Sadness.

Grief.

It’s grief that is the strongest. Grief for something that Phillip stole, mourning for something that was once so close, so real, and then gone in an instant.

If you close your eyes, you can still feel his boot in your stomach. The press of a steel toe, jammed beneath your ribs, wild, deranged eyes staring down at you in a rage.

But-

Buried so, so far beneath the crushing weight of it all, there is a bright little pocket of sunshine. A small little sliver of light, beams of hope stretching for the sky, warmth spilling over until your hands tremble with the conflict warring inside you.

Nothing has changed, but everything could.

The timer goes off with a shrill chime, and you lean over the sink to where the small strip sits on top of a cup.

A bold pink line.

And then another, more faint, but certainly there. A simple equation, one plus one equals two. Simple math.

Tangible. Present.

Pregnant.

[coffeegnomee]

Ok just caught up and like. What the fuck man. 

I literally all can do is just sit here and hope and pray that the old members stick it out and help the new members understand what lifesteal is actually about.

Because lifesteal has the reputation of being the lying and betraying and killing people server. 

But it is just Not That. Like obviously those things have happened on the server, fine. 

But lifesteal is far far far more about teammates. Believing that they will have your back. Working together to do cool shit. Trusting each other. 

It’s about commitment and honor and respect and working together on an interesting goal. 

It’s about not screwing over your teammates for a cheap moment that ruins the rest of your relationship on the server. (Mapicc showed this perfectly this week too! He ended the experiments because he’d rather have a teammate than execute a crazy emotional manipulation arc on Zam and really push him over the edge.) 

They sacrifice for each other. They protect each other. They pick each other up when they get killed by their enemies. They encourage them when they’re down. Help them be strong against their fears. Get each other gear and hearts and make sure they’re safe. Spend hours on each other’s arc together in vc all night. 

They lie to OTHERS for their team. They protect the wormhole for months even when they don’t want to or believe in it at all.

They do tiny little things that they know the other person will like just so they know they love them and appreciate them being on the team. They say it too, to each other’s faces. 

It’s about loving each other bro. There’s a massive fucking reason why there’s so much shipping fanart man. They fucking love each other platonically so damn much and so damn perfectly that you can make it romantic and it’s like not even like all that weird.

It makes me so fucking mad that you could boil down this beautiful server into lying and killing and go on it and be like, I heard princezam betrays every team he’s on obviously we should betray everyone and be on the lookout for every single person being a betrayer. 

Zam fucking lost his mind over betraying team awesome and eclipse. He AGONIZED for MONTHS before pulling the trigger for eclipse and he didn’t betray team awesome until after their massive arc together that he was completely loyal to, finished it out as a team, and only when they looked like they weren’t going to give up their unfair advantage did he seek to leave them. And he fought them and left.

The fucking respect he has for a team is insane.

And same goes for Bacon and Mapicc. 

as for others:

Ro only betrays if he gets a better offer (from mapicc) 

Leo betrays when it’s interesting for the story to have a juggernaut.

Spoke betrays only when he has his own bigger plan to execute that will create something interesting for the whole server to encounter. 

Clown only betrays when you go against his morals of creating content by chaos. 

I can’t even think of any notable betrayals from before s5. Most of the server does not betray ever. Most of the server never lies. 

They only lie and betray when it’s for the benefit of the content. 

And that’s what fucking makes me so upset about this. Bacon is doing this arc for the BETTERMENT of the server. He literally says he’s doing it to make other people’s lives on the sever more interesting. It ain’t even about him. He’s not even making a video about this. He just likes to do cool shit on the server because it’s fun to craft an overarching story for everyone to play into.

It’s never been about hearts man. 

The most valuable resource on the server is content. 

And Bacon understands this. In a way that quite possibly could make him a worldender like spoke and clown. He’s really getting into the role of strategizing fun things for the server to do for no other reason than someone has to do it and that it’s good for the server. 

But the new members just do not understand what “for content” means. They just kill randomly. They don’t defend each other. They don’t tell the other teammate to give the heart back bc it’s been proven enough that they’re innocent. They’re constantly suspicious and will only meet if there are no enemies online. 

It’s not about the hearts man. 

It’s about the team.

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 AND WHEN I'M BACK IN YOKOHAMA

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: with the team sent to escort you back to the port mafia headquarters obliterated, you're on your own in a war-torn yokohama. or, well, you are until mori sends out the infamous double black to retrieve you... you almost wish he would've let you suffer out there alone.

wordcount: 10k; sfw; fem!reader, pm!reader, mentions of mafia business

AUTHOR'S NOTES: at last, we get the first meeting between pm!reader & double black. keep your eye out for two other cameos in this fic ;) i can't remember if dazai and chuuya got their moniker before or during the dragon's head conflict and i dont feel like going to go figure it out so for the sake of my sanity, their little duo started rising in infamy just before the conflict broke out.

“Oh, this is the worst,” you complain quietly, arms wrapped around your waist as you look up and down the abandoned street.

The city looks nothing short of apocalyptic with dead bodies littering the ground and buildings caved in. You can’t help but want to blow up at Mori for calling you back to Yokohama with all of this happening. The “elite squad” he had sent to ensure you arrived at the Port Mafia base safely had been all but decimated by an ability user with a penchant for arson—you only survived by the skin of your teeth, running as fast as you could down vaguely familiar alleys until you finally lost him. 

You pull out your phone, trying to see if you can call Mori but only fall further into despair when you find that you have no cell service and your phone is nearly dead.

Tucking your phone back in your pocket, you let out a shaky breath as you begin to make your way down the street again, trying to figure out where exactly you are so you can get to the base as soon as possible. It’s only a matter of time before that pyromaniac finds you and your ability isn’t exactly built for self-defense or combat—you’re not sure if you can get yours activated before you’re roasted to death by the man.

You swallow thickly, anxiety beginning to spread through you as you make your way through rubble down the street. What happened? It’s all too reminiscent of that day eight years ago when Mori found you, the death and destruction as far as the eye could see—it drags up emotions you’ve long since repressed and now is not the time for it.

You’d been unable to get answers out of Mori’s men before the ability user attacked your convoy, but it seems as if the city has become a warzone—but over what? How hasn’t it reached the news outlets yet? And who are the combatants? Obviously, the Port Mafia is one of them, and you can guess that Mori called you back to Yokohama because the war isn’t falling in their favor, but who the hell is strong enough to compete with the Port Mafia, and why? 

You sigh, kicking absently at a small rock as you continue down the street. 

You should have been briefed. You don’t know why you weren’t briefed before being called back to the city. Frustrated, you turn down a somewhat familiar alley and lean against the wall, resting your head back against the bricks. You need to figure out what’s going on, but more importantly, you need to figure out where the hell you are so you can get back into safe territory.

You peek your head out to peer around the road—not a soul in sight in the streets, but… your gaze flickers up to the buildings, sliding from window to window until you catch sight of a figure peeking from between the blinds down to where you’re standing in the alleyway. Instantly, they let the blinds fall shut and throw themselves back indoors, but it’s too late—you’ve already spotted them.

You let out a breath of relief, looking both ways to make sure the fire manipulator hasn’t caught up to you yet before darting across the street to the building. It’s an apartment complex—the door leading into it has been half knocked off its hinges, so it’s easy to push it open and step inside.

The whole hallway has been ravaged, doors on the lower floors kicked in to reveal trashed rooms. You have to be careful not to step on glass as you make your way to the stairwell, Third floor, fifth window from the right. Most of the doors on the third floor aren’t quite as done in as the ones on the first, but only one has light peeking out from the crack.

You exhale, letting your eyes slide shut briefly before you raise your fist to knock on the door. “Excuse me! Would you mind answering a few questions? … I just arrived in the area, got caught in the crossfire of some battle, I would really appreciate the help, if you can spare any.” You’re careful to keep your voice light, gentle, and you’re even more careful to make sure your expression is smooth and unassuming when you hear the lock click open.

“You picked a god-awful time to come to Yokohama, child.” You hear an older woman speaking on the other side of the door; she doesn’t open it yet, but now that it’s cracked, you think your ability will work quickly to make her at ease. “Not one of ‘em Strain decoys, are you?” 

The fact that you have no idea what she means by that is infuriating, a reminder that Mori didn’t even bother to warn you about anything before dragging you back here, but you don’t let your frustration seep onto your face.

Strain… Strain… That Australian organization? What the hell are they doing in Yokohama? Why have you been kept so in the dark?

“No ma’am, unfortunately, I don’t even know what you mean by that,” you admit, and when you hear the woman let out a heavy sigh, you know that you’ve won, sending up a silent prayer of thanks as she opens the door to let you in. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

The woman only grumbles, but her eyes are gentle and her wrinkled face is soft as she ushers you into the room, shutting the door behind you and locking it. She’s not alone in the apartment, you notice—there’s a teen boy around your age lingering in the hallway, blonde hair cut short and glasses hanging off the bridge of his nose as he studies you with a frown. 

“What are you doing out here on your own, girl?” the elderly woman asks as she wobbles after you into the main room of the apartment, ushering you to sit down. “Doppo, go get the poor girl some water. Stop acting like a lump, boy.”

The boy looks disgruntled but nods, scampering off into the kitchen as the woman turns her attention back toward you. “Well? Don’t you know? Yokohama’s no place for tourists lately. Where are your parents?”

Your smile falters, mind racing as you try to pick your words carefully. “My father is the one who told me to come back to the city. I was… not made aware of the circumstances I would be arriving in.”

“Men,” the elderly woman spits out, looking up as the boy, Doppo, returns with two glasses of water, handing one to you and one to the woman. “Take notes, boy, you better not end up like one of those useless wastes of air or I’ll put you down myself, understand?” 

“Yes, granny,” the boy replies, and though he still looks distinctly aggrieved, you can’t help but feel amused by the fact that he immediately pulls out a notebook to take notes.

“Would you mind telling me what exactly… happened to the city?” you ask after a moment, taking a sip of the cool water and trying to make yourself a bit more comfortable on the sofa. “I haven’t seen anything on the news about this.”

The woman scoffs, waving her hand. “Of course not, big whigs think that they can keep it all on the low and get it under control before the incident makes it across seas,” she says roughly. “Gang wars broke out after some bastard with a lot of money died. Came in from all over to try to get their hands on the money. Whole city’s being torn apart.”

Interesting, you think to yourself, mind racing as you put together the few puzzle pieces you’ve been given. How many factions are already here? Who are they? Why did Mori call you back here if it’s already escalated this much? Your ability might be key in intel gathering and negotiations, but you’d be useless in combat.

“Our ward is under the control of some organization called the Strain,” the boy tells you. “They’ve been targeting civilians. They-”

Doppo grimaces and looks away, an angry expression crossing his face and you watch as the elderly woman reaches out to squeeze his forearm before looking back over to you. “Boy’s mother was killed by them the night the conflict broke out. I’ve been looking after him since.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you say quietly, but he only averts his gaze from you, looking down at the ground. 

Strain. You were right. You’ve heard a lot of them. They originated in the Australian underground, but they spread rapidly throughout the world—footholds in every major country, stakes in every major world event. Brutal and ambitious, you suppose you’re not surprised they came here if there’s as much money up for grabs as the woman assumes. 

“What ward are you trying to get to, girl?” the woman asks you. “It’s not safe out there on your own. There are no rules or laws anymore, whole city is anarchic. You go out there on your own and you’ll be picked off by Strain.”

“I need to get to my father,” you tell her as you shake your head. The Port Mafia must be in an especially precarious position if Mori is bringing you back after the conflict has escalated this much—your heart rate spikes as worst-case scenarios start to fly through your head, wondering if they’ve been backed into a corner, forced into a position where their only option is negotiations for surrender. Logically, you know Mori would never let that happen, but it doesn’t quell the rising fear. “He’s in Naka-ku.”

You just need to know what ward you’re in and-

“You’re in Kanagawa-ku right now, you’ll never make it through it and Nishi-ku—and Naka-ku is the heart of the conflict,” the woman says as she clicks her tongue. “Stay here. You’ll be safer.”

“I need to get to my father,” you repeat again, “but thank you, really, for the offer and concern… and for helping me figure out what’s going on. I appreciate it.”

You rise to your feet to leave, and instantly, the boy is on his feet, nearly knocking over the woman’s cup of water and promptly getting whacked with a rag in response. The boy winces but takes a few steps toward you, undeterred. 

“You can’t go out there,” he says, green eyes pleading for you to listen. “Just stay. Once everything’s calmed down, we can help you find your father.”

“I can’t stay,” you say quietly, wondering if Doppo’s desperation for you to stay is a result of your ability messing with his head or if he really does just have that big of a heart. You think as a thank you for their help, that you’ll ensure that Yokohama will become Strain’s grave.

The old woman makes another disparaging comment about ungrateful fathers before nodding at you. “Good luck, girl, be careful out there.”

You make it approximately seven blocks before the ability user that you thought you lost catches up to you. You think that if you die here, you’re going to spend the entire rest of Mori’s life terrorizing him as a ghost. You grimace as a wave of flames sweeps above you, you can feel the heat against the top of your head from where you’re using an abandoned car to shield you from the man, but you know it’s only a matter of time before he gets to you.

Shit, you sigh, eyes flitting around the street trying to figure out if there’s anywhere you can dart to, but the only other rubble you could hide behind is a tipped-over dumpster in an alley twenty yards away—you’ll never make it that far without something to shield you from the flames. 

You blame Mori. Again. He should’ve warned you about what you’re walking into, and he should’ve sent more than just a group of second-rate losers to pick you up from the station knowing how bad the city is. Now, you’re going to get roasted alive by some psychotic pyromaniac when you should be back in Kyoto dealing with the more pleasant parts of business—wining and dining elites to strike deals and expand the Mafia’s influence throughout all of the societal spheres of Japan.

You grimace as you steady your gun in front of you, using the broken side-view mirror of the car you’re hiding behind to try to figure out where the ability user is because if you can get one good shot off you’d at least have enough time to make a break for it. You just need to focus—the Colonel didn’t put you through all of that firearms training just for you to choke up when you actually need to use it.

Your gaze tracks the man as soon as he comes within view of the mirror. You breathe in and out steadily—once, twice, three times. He’s fumbling with a walkie-talkie, distracted, and you don’t hesitate before taking the given chance. You twist into a kneeling position to face where he’s standing, raising both arms as you aim the gun in his direction; he catches your movement from the corner of his eye, expression shifting into one of anger, but you fire off three bullets before he can retaliate.

Or so you thought.

Your lips part in shock as the man whips a fireball in your direction before he hits the ground—even if you do evade it in time, it’s stronger than the rest he’s been throwing at you, it’ll blow right through the car you’re using as a barrier.

“Shit,” you breathe out, trying to take a step back but your ankle catches on a stray piece of rubble. You hit the ground hard, pain shooting up your leg and as you brace yourself for the flames, you squeeze your eyes shut.

But the agony of burning to death never comes.

Your eyes fly back open when you see someone standing between you and the fireball, the flames fizzling out and dying before they can touch him. They disappear, unable to get past him to you, and your eyes widen in shock. Who on earth… He looks over his shoulder at you, dark-hair flopping in his visible eye—he’s pretty, you think absently, even if a quarter of his face is covered in bandages. You blame your thoughts on the fact that you’re still a bit stunned and confused. 

Then he opens his mouth.

“You must be the precious cargo,” he grins. “We’re here to rescue you.”

“Cargo?” You gape, offended. “Did you just call me cargo?”

“Precious cargo,” he corrects, eye turning up in amusement before he focuses his attention back to the ability user who had attacked you. “Go handle that, pipsqueak. Make yourself useful for once.”

“Shut your damn mouth, bastard,” another male voice spits from behind you, voice riddled with irritation and anger. 

You look behind you to see another boy around your age with orange hair and mismatched eyes. He’s dressed more casually than the dark-haired boy, who’s wearing a black suit and tie beneath his long coat. He barely spares you a look as he steps forward, and you watch as his entire body glows red before he flies forward so fast that your eyes can’t even keep up with him. 

The gravity manipulator. You’ve heard of him through Kouyou—not much, but enough to know he’s probably the strongest ability users to exist in the eastern hemisphere. Does that mean…

The dark-haired boy turns his attention to you, smile widening as he leans over you. He looks unbearably amused at your predicament, and you find yourself growing more and more incensed by the second. 

“Dazai Osamu,” he greets. “You got a name, precious cargo?” 

Oh.

You recognize the name instantly, eyes narrowing, and as if he can sense your sudden change in demeanor, his smile starts to fall. Dazai Osamu. The Demon Prodigy. The Port Mafia’s Black Wraith. Mori brought him in two years ago, if the rumors you’ve heard hold any truth to them—after he sent you away to Kyoto with Kitada Usurai, one of the previous boss’s executives. 

You always wondered if the reason Mori never brought you back had something to do with his new protege—whether it was because he didn’t need you in Yokohama anymore now that he had “the Demon Prodigy” to be his heir or it was because he just didn’t want the two of you interacting. You never really minded; you like being in Kyoto and you like not having to be at the heart of every gang conflict that takes place in Yokohama but you can’t help the bitterness that rises now that your eyes have settled on the boy that took your place.

Before you can answer him, Dazai abruptly goes careening over to the left, hitting the ground hard. The orange-haired boy is standing where he once was, leg extended, and you realize that he must’ve kicked him away. 

“Stay there and die, won’t you?” he snaps, and you glance behind him, trying to figure out if he had already taken care of the ability user that had been hunting you down. Your lips part when you see him crumpled in a pile of rubble, unmoving. “Nakahara Chuuya. You can call me Chuuya. You hurt?” 

He extends his hand to you, and you take it gratefully, giving him your name and letting him help you to your feet. You stumble a bit, your left ankle buckling under your weight, and Chuuya wraps an arm around your waist to steady you. 

How embarrassing, you think, thanking him quietly before easing his arm away, standing on your own even with the pain in your ankle, not wanting to come across as weak. You make your way over to where the ability user is crumpled on the ground, kneeling in the rubble next to him. You lift your fingers to his neck to see if he’s still hanging on, but there’s no pulse.

You click your tongue, having been hoping you’d be able to take him back to the base for questioning, but instead, you let your fingers drift to the symbol embroidered on his jacket and then to the two bars embroidered onto his bicep.

Strain. 

The old lady and her grandson hadn’t been lying.

“You recognize the symbol?” Chuuya asks, wandering over to stand next to where you’re kneeling on the ground.

You frown instantly. “You don’t?” you ask dubiously, eyes narrowing again as Chuuya bristles at your comment.

“The conflict only just started a few days ago,” he says defensively. “We don’t have intel on all of the organizations that have showed up in the city. There are dozens of them. We’ve been more focused on trying to keep the civilians out of the crossfires at this point.”

A mighty fine job they’ve been doing at that, you think sarcastically, mind drawing back to the boy and old woman that helped you earlier and all of the destroyed buildings. You keep the thought to yourself, not too keen on antagonizing one of the people sent to get you out of this hellhole. 

“That’s why he brought me back here then,” you mutter more to yourself than anyone else, rolling your eyes as you grab the ability user’s walkie-talkie and rise to your feet. “He’s a member of Strain—one of their lower-ranked ability users, if the lines on his coat are accurate. From what I’ve gathered, they control Kanagawa-ku and Nishi-ku. We should get out of the open before their stronger ability users show up.”

“I can take them,” Chuuya says confidently, looking unperturbed by your comment.

“I’m sure you can,” you say dryly, “but how skilled are you at using nonlethal force against strong opponents?”

Chuuya only squints at you, which is as much of an answer as you need.

“If we want actual, useful intel, we’ll have to capture one of their higher-ranked ability users alive. I can get the information out of them, I just need the opportunity to use my ability.” You rise back to your feet, gaze shifting around the street to try to figure out where you should hide out for the night. “Plus, night is falling, and rumor has it, Strain has an ability user that’s particularly adept with umbrakinetic abilities and I would rather not run into him. I am already tired and wounded, and I don’t know how your gravity would interact with an element unaffected by gravitational forces so we can’t rely on your brute force.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have attitude?” Chuuya scowls, disgruntled by your blunt commentary, and you roll your eyes.

“No, actually,” you say, giving him a thin smile. “In fact, I’ve been told I’m quite pleasant. I’m just in a bad mood because I didn’t realize Mori would be having me return to a warzone when he called me back to Yokohama. I would’ve appreciated a bit of a head’s up.”

Your gaze drifts back to Dazai as you speak, curious, but the boy is already looking at you, a frown on his lips and visible eye sharp. As soon as he notices that you caught him staring, his face smoothes out and he cocks his head to the side, questioning, eye too black and too empty.

Your gaze slides away from him onto what seems like another residential building behind him.

“We’ll stay there for the night.”

You wake up with a pain in your back and a headache. The fact that your ankle doesn’t hurt as badly is only a minimal consolation as you push yourself into a sitting position and rub your forehead, disoriented and confused, trying to remember where you are and why you’re sleeping on a rickety bed.

Your gaze catches sight of a head of orange hair lying in the opposite direction of you, pillow at the foot of the bed and curled close to the edge of the mattress as if trying to stay as far away as possible from you.

That’s right. You’re back in Yokohama. Mori called you back to help with this conflict. Sent the gravity manipulator and the Demon Prodigy after you to make sure you got back to the base. Your eyes linger on Nakahara Chuuya for a moment, watching the way his chest rises and falls, soft puffs of air escaping his lips—he’s fast asleep, dead to the world. So, you let your gaze drift across the room; it’s dark, no lights on in fear of drawing unwanted attention from Strain scouts if they see any sign of life in one of the abandoned buildings. You can only hardly catch sight of Dazai Osamu sitting near a cracked open window, one knee tucked to his chest while the other hangs loosely at his side as he looks outside and smokes a cigarette.

There’s an indecipherable expression on his face—a heavy look in his eyes and a downturn curve to his lips. You watch him curiously for a moment. 

You’ve heard a lot about Dazai Osamu��s feats while stationed in Kyoto: ruthless, terrifyingly intelligent, willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done. It took only a year of him being a member of the Mafia for him to be given control of Mori’s personal covert ops unit, and he’s been producing staggering results since. He’s the one who takes charge of eliminating organizations that you deem unworthy of associating with the Mafia but too problematic to keep around, the one who’s been opening up new distribution and trade channels for you to make use of in negotiations and acquisitions.

You suppose you’ve been working closely with him for a while now, even if the two of you have never interacted until now.

Still, the rumors that have spread about the boy are nothing to scoff at. The head of the Mafia’s interrogation unit—they say no one lasts more than five minutes in the same room with him before cracking. You’ve heard through the grapevine that the lower-ranked mafiosos are more terrified of him than any of the executives—see him as heartless and calculating, willing to sacrifice any one of them if it means furthering the Mafia’s interests. He only views people as tools, there’s no room in his black heart for meaningful relationships. No one trusts him and the longer he works for the Mafia, the darker and more unfathomable he becomes, even in the eyes of others entrenched in the dark—people keep far out of reach of him unless they have a death wish.

You study him carefully from where you’re sitting; he still hangs his jacket over his shoulders, like some sort of barrier from the rest of the world. His expression now is a far cry from the smile that had been on his face when you first saw him; his eye black and eerily still as he stares out the window, void of the gleam that had been in it before he noticed your reaction to his name.

You slide out of bed as quietly as you can, making your way over to where he’s sitting—he doesn’t even notice your approach until he catches sight of your reflection in the window, but even then, he doesn’t turn to look at you, only tracking you through the glass until you come to sit on the windowsill across from him. You tilt your head to the side as you observe him, pulling your knees to your chest.

“You shouldn’t sit at the window,” you finally say. “Someone could spot you.”

His eye is so black right now; you almost feel uncomfortable beneath his stare but you only raise your eyebrows. His gaze pointedly trails down to where you’d joined him and the corner of your lip quirks up.

“Fair enough,” you say and then hold your hand out, silently requesting for him to pass the cigarette over to you. Dazai stares at your hand for a moment and just when you’re about to draw your hand back, he finally reaches out to let you take it from him. Your fingers brush his as you take it between your index and middle fingers, the contact causing a spark to run up your forearm. You lift the cigarette to your lips and take a long drag, tilting your head back against the wall before you tell him, “You should go get some rest. I’ll take watch the next few hours.”

“Not tired,” he replies after a few seconds of silence. His voice is just as cold as the expression on his face, no hint of the playfulness from earlier in the day.

You hum, trying to decide what to say because he’s clearly unhappy and you have a feeling it has to do with how you reacted to hearing his name earlier, so you decide to be upfront, not in the mood for word games. 

“I think you’re unhappy with me because of how I reacted to hearing your name,” you say, laying out the issue. His gaze snaps up to you, sharp and narrowed, lips parting to deny the allegation but you don’t let him. “I was only surprised. I didn’t mean to make it seem like I have a bad opinion of you.”

“No?” Dazai asks, a sardonic lilt to his voice, goading more than anything else but you don’t fall for the trap. 

With your legs brushing, you can’t feel the familiar warmth of your ability circling through you and emanating around you, everything feels cold and empty instead, as if a part of you was sucked into a vacuum in space—the rumors must be true about him being a nullifier. You’ve never had to interact with people without your ability as a fail safe, it’s constantly active despite trying to learn how to turn it off. It’s useful though, it ensures that even if you mess up, the people around you are comfortable enough and amiable enough to not notice. They trust you without you even needing to do anything, adore you just because of the pleasant feelings your ability induces in them.

This is… different. 

And you don’t think in a bad way. You’ve always wondered what it would be like to interact with people without your ability interfering, it’s why you tried so hard to figure out if you could turn it off. And… it's nice talking to someone who’s not automatically endeared to you by your ability, who you can have normal conversation with without having to wonder if they’re only talking to you because you’re messing with their minds. Even nicer than you used to imagine.

“No,” you confirm. “I’m curious about you.”

The corners of Dazai’s lips turn down even more, brows furrowing at the comment. “Why?”

“You’re not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“A monster,” you say the word absently, watching as Dazai goes rigid at it, staring you down. “A demon. It’s what everyone calls you, at least.” 

“... and what makes you think I’m not one?” he finally asks, jaw tight.

Your lips curl into an easy smile again. “If you were a monster, you wouldn’t have been so bothered by the idea of me not liking you. The desire to be liked is an exceedingly human trait.”

Even under the dim moonlight, you can see the way Dazai’s cheeks burn a rosy color at your words. He suddenly looks years younger as he fumbles for words, gaze averting from you back to the window, but his reflection betrays him. 

“I was not bothered by the idea of you not liking me,” he protests, defensiveness creeping into his tone as he snatches his cigarette right back from your hand as if to make a point, giving you a glare from the corner of his eye. “I was not.”

“You were also very clearly put off by the fact that I had no issue with Chuuya,” you note, biting back a laugh at the squeak-like protest that slips from his lips and the mortified expression that follows. “Jealousy, another exceedingly human trait.”

“I was not jealous,” he cries out, a bit too loud because from where he’s sleeping on the bed, Chuuya grumbles out a ‘shut the fuck up’ in his sleep. “I was not jealous.”

“It’s okay if you were,” you say, instead of indulging in his denial. “I’m not judging you.”

“I wasn’t,” Dazai hisses, more insistent now. “I don’t care if you like me or not.”

“Well, I do like you,” you tell him—honest, you’re having fun teasing him.

“You don’t even know me,” Dazai scoffs, cheeks still pink as he pointedly turns his face away from you. “You can’t like me.”

“I want to know you,” you say, tilting your head to the side as you observe him. You like observing things—it’s the easiest way of gathering information. You keep quiet, you don’t draw more attention to yourself than necessary. It’s how you’ve been able to thrive alone in Kyoto even with so many vultures circling you. “I don’t know many other people my age… none, really.”

Something strange crosses Dazai’s expression. Longing but hesitant. Wistful but reluctant, like he should know better but just can’t help himself from wanting. You’re good at reading people, you pride yourself on it; it’s another reason why you’ve been able to succeed in Kyoto alone. Dazai is difficult—he covers half of his face and he’s quick to school the other half when he slips up, but you’re observant. It’s what you’re best at. 

You wonder, maybe, if Dazai has his own vultures. You think he must, he’s young—like you—and it’s probably why he uses his reputation as a shield and wears his long black coat like armor in the same way you use honeyed words and wear a saccharine smile. So, the thought must be scary to him as much as it must be appealing—the desire to have someone see him put against the fear of actually being seen as he is. 

You know it better than anyone.

“Well, you can’t have Chuuya. Chuuya is my dog,” Dazai says firmly, raising his chin. “He follows my orders.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Your dog?” you ask dryly.

“My dog,” Dazai confirms, seemingly quite proud of himself. “I won a bet, and now Chuuya is my dog for life.”

“Must have been quite the bet,” you drawl, watching as Dazai brightens a bit at the topic.

“We had a contest to see who could figure out the culprit of one of our missions faster. I won, of course, because Chuuya is slow and dumb like a slug. A slug. Chuuya is a slug,” Dazai cackles, dark eye shining as his lips curl up into a wide smile, clapping his hands together. “I’m much better than Chuuya, you see. He’s a brute. He’s never had to learn to be smart or cunning because of his ability, so he just punches things around until he gets what he wants. Plus, he’s small—and if that’s not bad enough, he is more arrogant than his tiny body can hold. That’s why he’s my dog. He can’t do anything without his master’s orders.”

Dazai is not subtle in dragging Chuuya down to boast about himself, puffing out his chest like some prideful bird and lifting his chin as he speaks. You think that if Chuuya was awake to hear this, Dazai would find himself tossed right out of the window to fall two stories to the ground, but the other boy is asleep, blissfully unaware of Dazai’s rampage of insults. 

“What happened during the mission?” you ask curiously, a bit interested to know what’s all been happening in Yokohama while you’ve been gone.

Dazai looks surprised as if he didn’t expect you to encourage his yapping. Then, he lights up again. “I’ll tell you all about it…”

You wonder, maybe, if the rumors of his solidarity and inability to form meaningful relationships might not have stemmed from his own volition. Rather, you think they’ve been enforced by the people around him who refuse to give him the time of day in fear of his reputation, because right now in front of you isn’t some twisted and unfathomable wraith of the Mafia.

All you see is a boy the same age as you eager to have someone new to talk to. 

He talks all night. 

From the moment you sat there with him at two or three in the morning until dawn, you don’t think he shut his mouth once. You hardly spoke more than a handful of times, content to just lean your head against the window and listen to him go on about all of the missions he’s had since joining the Mafia a year ago—most of them involved Chuuya, and he certainly made a show of explaining in each one why the mission would have failed without Dazai there to guide it along.

“See. This is why he’s my dog.”

It’s not until Chuuya finally starts stirring as the sun crosses the horizon does he finally quiet down, seemingly not keen on getting himself launched out a window if the other boy happens to hear one of the unsavory stories Dazai’s telling you.

Then again, his first words are pretty much asking for it.

“About time you woke up, slug,” Dazai says cheerfully when Chuuya groans and rolls over, clearly starting to wake up. His dark eye gleams as he waits for Chuuya’s explosive reaction to the new nickname.

“Hah?! What did you just call me, bastard?” Chuuya snaps, although he’s quite slow in pushing himself out of bed, sleepy and disoriented, gaze swiveling around to try to land on Dazai.

“Huh,” you say, more to yourself than them. “He is quite sluggish in waking up.”

“What?!” Chuuya demands, head snapping toward you. 

On the other side of the window bench, Dazai snickers, looking mighty pleased with himself. He looks a lot more his age now, the tenseness in his shoulders has dissipated in the hours he spent talking to you, the tightness in his face has smoothed out. His eye is a lot wider and a lot brighter, the corner of his lip twitching as he waits to see what Chuuya’s going to do next. He sits closer to you now too—or, not closer, really, but he’s extended his legs out a bit as the night drew on until they were all but entangled with yours.

“You’re a slug, Chuuya,” Dazai jeers. “A slug. Because you’re small and slow. Aren’t I so brilliant?”

“I’m going to toss your shitty ass out the window,” Chuuya booms, throwing himself out of bed and darting over to Dazai, who evades Chuuya’s punch by diving off of the window bench, nearly taking you right with him considering his legs were stuffed between yours. “Get back here, you asshole.”

Dazai’s out of the room in an instant and Chuuya is chasing after him, spitting out curses and threats. You sit there for a moment, blinking, trying to wrap your mind around what just happened before just deciding to shake your head and rise to your feet. You stretch, body a bit sore from sitting in the same place for hours and tired from the little amount of sleep you got last night. 

You’re ready to get back to headquarters. You want to sleep in an actual bed and you want to drag Mori for his incompetence and nearly getting you killed. You miss Elise too, even if you don’t really like what she’s become. You’re just happy to not be alone anymore—being in Kyoto was… stressful, at best, and downright agonizing, at worst. You couldn’t trust anyone, not even your ability was enough to protect you there, you had no friends, you were lonely and constantly looking over your shoulder because you had no one to watch your back—even the other members of the Mafia in Kyoto with you would’ve turned against you at any given chance if it meant they could drag themselves higher up the hierarchy. 

You yawn as you leave the room, hearing the distant sounds of Chuuya kicking Dazai’s shit in. You make your way to the front of the building you guys had camped the night out, intent on getting a breath of fresh air before waiting for them to stop fucking around but you hardly get more than half a step out of the door before you’re pushed back hard against a nearby wall.

Your eyes widen when a figure manifests in front of you, particles of shadows knitting together to form a young man who seems to be a few years older than you. You barely withhold a sigh, realizing that despite all attempts to avoid him, you still managed to stumble right into the hands of Strain’s shadow manipulator—literally.

“I didn’t expect the cargo we got intel on to be a girl,” he says coolly.  “I almost didn’t believe it when Anderson reported it to me. Though I haven’t heard from him in hours, I assume that’s your doing.”

“You know,” you say lightly, “this is the second time in less than twelve hours that I’ve been called cargo. I think I like it even less coming from you.”

Though you’ve heard a lot about the shadow manipulator, you didn’t know what he looked like before now—he’s quick and elusive, and those who do manage to catch sight of him are killed by him soon after.. He’s not much older than you, though—two years max—handsome enough, pale blonde hair and green eyes with tan, freckled skin. 

Your lips curve up into a small smile. “Are you going to kill me or are you going to stand here with your hand around my neck? … Just so you know, I’m not into that.”

You watch as—just as you expect—he frowns deeply and takes a step back. He watches you carefully, brows knit together, and you let your ability work. Invisible threads wind around his limbs, curling up his neck twisting into his ears and nose and mouth, they curl up to his brain and take root, leaving him vulnerable to however you plan to use your ability.

You still have to be careful. You have to be subtle. Your ability is useful but it has its drawbacks—the biggest being that if you’re too sudden with it, the person you’re targeting can realize that you’re messing with their head and pull themselves out of it. That would be the worst case scenario because 1) they’d realize you have an ability and 2) you’d be in trouble. 

So you resign to just tilting your head to the side as you smile—some emotions are fickle, positive ones like love and happiness, especially among people like you who don’t often feel those emotions. Negative emotions are easier in that once you send someone into a spiral of fear, paranoia or rage, it’s almost impossible for them to draw themselves out, but they’ll inevitably realize that you had done something to their head, which is not an option because your ability needs to remain a secret.

So you decide to just rely on the passive form of your ability, watching as he falls victim to it, shoulders slumping and muscles relaxing as he eyes you curiously. Your ability is non-combatant, yes, but as soon as combat is over, it comes out to play.

He’d made a fatal mistake when he chose not to snap your neck.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” you say conversationally, hands behind your back as you tilt your head to the side. “They say you’re one of the strongest ability users in the world right now.” 

“I didn’t expect you to be a kid,” he says with a frown. “You’re what? Fourteen?”

You blanche. “I’m sixteen,” you protest, forgetting to keep up appearances as you stare at him, aghast. “I do not look fourteen.”

He makes a face as if he disagrees and then shrugs. 

Your eyes bulge. “I do not,” you repeat angrily. “I’m sixteen.”

“Whatever you say,” he says, amused. “I’m not in the business of killing kids though, so I guess I have to take you in. What a bother.”

Your eye twitches. You’d rather die than be taken hostage by Strain and you don’t know where your shitty escorts are so you settle for antagonizing him as a means to stall.

“You’re a high-ranking member of Strain, how are you going to sit here and tell me you’re not in the business of killing kids?” you sneer. “Your organization has been the cause of more child deaths than any other in the world.”

His eyes turn to slits as he stares at you. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says coldly. “I put a stop to all of the rings in Australia myself.”

“And what? You think Strain is willing to just take those losses?” you say, an amused laugh bubbling in the back of your throat when anger flashes through his eyes. Your gaze flits down to the five lines embroidered on his jacket. “For an executive, you must not be kept in the loop by the rest of your comrades. The moment you dismantled the rings in Australia, they turned to strike a deal with Bunin—what do you think your branch in Russia does there? They’re helping Bunin expand his trafficking rings through the East and Strain cuts twenty percent of the profit.”

His hand snaps forward to grab your collar, yanking you toward him. “How would you even know that?” he spits, but from the conflict thinly veiled behind his eyes, you know that your words have taken root. 

You raise your eyebrows as you look up at him, a bit too close for comfort.

“How did you know I was coming back to Yokohama?” you counter instead. He lets you go immediately, withdrawing with a closed-off expression. “Come on, we’ve both been betrayed in some manner—you by your organization, me by someone within mine. I almost burned to death because of them and you… you’ve been working for an organization that’s been lying to you for years. Let’s help each other.”

“I don’t even know if what you’re saying is the truth,” he replies tightly. “I don’t-”

“Then go find out,” you say with an idle smile, “and when you realize I’m telling the truth, well… your ability is quite handy, I’m sure you’ll be able to find me again.”

He stares at you for a moment, expression indecipherable, but after a few long seconds, he disappears in the same swirl of darkness that he appeared in and you can finally relax. You let out a heavy sigh as your shoulders slump, lifting your hand to your neck, wincing at the tenderness.

You doubt that will be enough. You’ve heard rumors that he’s Yakuza-born—only ended up with Strain after Mishima’s Sun and Steel went to war with their syndicate—loyalty is always core to those types, runs through their blood—but at least you’ve planted the seeds, and when he inevitably finds out you’re telling the truth, he’ll come crawling back for more information.

And hopefully some information for you in return. 

Your gaze flits to the side when you hear a crash from your left, seeing Nakahara Chuuya fly out of the building, hands glowing red and eyes wide and wild, trying to seek out a man who’s already long gone.

You roll your eyes. “He’s already gone. Thanks for the help, O’Great Protectors,” you say sarcastically. “Really, you guys are amazing at your job.”

Chuuya has the decency to look ashamed, face flushing as red as his hair as he deactivates his ability and looks away from you. “Who the hell was that?”

“Itou Asahi,” you say absently. “Strain’s shadow manipulator—one of the strongest ability users in the eastern hemisphere right now. Mori brought him up a few times wanting me to recruit him. I didn't think I’d get the chance considering we’re aligned with the Sun and Steel and he hates them, but I might have an opening.”

Your look over to Dazai, who only frowns at your words, gaze trained on you with an unreadable look in his eyes.

“You’re hurt,” he says, brows furrowed, and you realize he’s looking at your neck.

You drop your hand from where you’d been brushing your fingers against the sensitive skin, feeling distinctly too seen under Dazai’s heavy gaze. You don’t know why you feel a bit flustered, but you do and you definitely don’t like it.

“I’m fine,” you say, shaking your head. “Can we head back to headquarters now?”

Dazai frowns like he’s about to protest, but Chuuya nods before he can. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Let’s go.”

Headquarters is less than a mile away now. The streets that three of you are walking down are safe—none of the organizations have made it this far into the heart of Port Mafia territory—and yet for some reason, Dazai still feels incredibly troubled. 

He hasn’t even been able to join in on you and Chuuya’s conversation. He’s had ample opportunity to considering how much Chuuya is embarrassing himself by trying to act smart, but instead he finds himself trailing behind the two of you, an outsider, too lost in his own thoughts to even think of trying to make a snide comment.

Why is he so troubled?

Dazai isn’t sure and that troubles him too.

He’s always been very in tune with himself. His emotions, his motives, his wants and needs—they’re few and far between, yes, but Dazai has never struggled to pinpoint them at any point in his life. 

He was sad when his ability manifested and his siblings no longer wanted anything to do with him. His ability made them uncomfortable, made them feel empty because it deprived them of their own abilities. They said it was unnatural, and they said he must be unnatural too because why else would he develop such a terrible ability? Dazai couldn’t really blame them, his ability made him feel empty too—he theorizes that when it doesn’t have an ability to suck up into the black hole, it starts devouring anything else it can get its hands on, like his emotions, because he stopped feeling much at all after it manifested. 

When he was twelve, he wanted to learn how to play the piano to impress his mother, though he never got the chance to show her because she was killed soon after. He hasn’t wanted much of anything since then. 

When he was fourteen, his grandfather started pitting him, his siblings and his cousins against each other. His older brother drew the first blood against one of his cousins, and it was a bloodbath from there on out. With both of his parents dead and his siblings and cousins trying to kill one another to be named his grandfather’s heir, Dazai didn’t have much reason to live himself, and he definitely didn’t want to be killed by one of his siblings or cousins. 

So, he thought the next logical step was to die, so he tried to kill himself.

He failed, obviously, and ended up with none other than Mori. He still hasn’t found much of a reason to keep living. Chuuya is around, he supposes, and he’s entertaining enough to mess with—it’s enough to keep Dazai going for now—and you claim to want to know him, so Dazai is interested in seeing how that plays out, but that’s beyond the point. 

The point is that Dazai knows what Dazai wants. Dazai knows what Dazai needs. Dazai knows what Dazai feels. And Dazai currently cannot figure out why Dazai is troubled, so something is certainly wrong and he needs to figure out what it is. 

He hears you laugh at something that Chuuya said and barely stops himself from rolling his eyes. Nothing Chuuya says is ever that funny, so you must just be being polite, but it’s still annoying. Mostly due to the fact that Dazai can’t call it out because he doesn’t even know what was said because he wasn’t paying attention courtesy of his current dilemma.

He withholds a sigh as his gaze drops to your neck, eyes focusing in on the dark bruises lining your neck—the fingerprints of that ability user form Strain that attacked you when he and Chuuya weren’t around—and his irritation spikes yet again.

At once, a lightbulb goes off in his head.

That’s what’s troubling him. He’s found himself looking back at the marks on your neck on more than one occasion, and each time, it’s triggered his displeasure. He’s not sure why it took him so long to put it together, but now lies a new issue: why is it triggering his displeasure?

He squints as he stares at you hard, willing the answer to come to him. There must be a logical reason for it, he just needs to figure out what it is. He can see you looking at him from the corner of your eye, probably wondering why he’s staring at you so intensely, but Dazai just can’t rip his gaze away, fully intent on figuring out what his problem is right now.

Casualties are expected in this line of work. Dazai has never been one to think twice when people are hurt or killed in the line of action—he’s lost many subordinates to ensure the success of a mission and has even put his own life on the line if it meant that it bettered his chances of succeeding. So he should by no means be bothered by the prospect of you being wounded, especially considering he barely knows you.

“I want to know you.”

Dazai blinks as your words suddenly ring through his head again, startled by his own thoughts. His brows furrow even deeper because no, that can’t possibly be the reason why. He supposes it might be influencing it a bit because people who want to know him are few and far between, so the thought of meeting someone who actually gives him the time of day and almost losing them right away is unfortunate. It makes sense that it’s making him more irritable, especially when it’s something he’s curious to see play out and it’s something that could’ve been easily prevented.

Oh, he realizes, suddenly satisfied as he comes to an answer that he can quickly accept, disregarding everything else. 

That’s the issue—it was preventable. 

Dazai should’ve seen it coming and he should’ve been quick to take the necessary steps to avoid it. What he was feeling was irritability at himself, not at the fact that you got hurt. It wouldn’t make sense because Dazai doesn’t know you and even if he did know you, casualties are expected in this line of work. But you’re his assignment—his and Chuuya’s—Dazai has never failed an assignment before, much less with Chuuya, and he’d come this close because he’d recklessly let down his guard in enemy territory. 

It makes sense.

Much more than any of the other absurd explanations he’d been considering do at least.

This time when Chuuya makes a stupid comment, Dazai chimes in with some very necessary commentary, giving you a simpering smile and a wink before dancing out of the way of Chuuya’s much anticipated roundhouse.

Still, Dazai finds the troubled feeling returning again when his gaze drifts back down to the marks on your neck as he passes by the two of you with flourished spin, antagonizing Chuuya just to entertain himself with how red his face gets in embarrassment. 

But his gaze darts back up to your face quickly and he shakes off the unwelcome feeling, another quip on the tip of his tongue that abruptly dies when he sees your hand pressed to your mouth as you try to hide your amusement from Chuuya. Your eyes are turned up and your smothered giggles are just barely audible, the mid-morning sun casts an ethereal glow over your face and for a moment, Dazai is entirely stunned by the sight. He nearly trips over his own foot, and since he’s unsteady on his feet, he can’t avoid the way Chuuya predictably transitions from a roundhouse into a back kick.

He goes flying backward, all breath pushed from his lungs as takes the kick to the gut and hits the concrete hard a few feet away. He should be disgruntled, or he should at the very least retaliate with another mocking jibe, but instead, he finds his gaze fixed on you, watching as you finally burst into laughter, unable to contain it with the sight of Dazai sprawled out on the ground looking like a clown.

His heart rate spikes and Dazai’s hand flies to his chest, alarmed—becomes even more so when it doesn’t settle down. He rips his gaze from you to stare down at the ground, forcibly calming his heart and only when he’s sure that he’s got it under control, he looks back up.

Immediately, he loses control over it again, and this time it feels even more erratic, each thump resonating through his ears as you approach him, giggles quieting as you hold out your hand to help him up. 

For a horrifying second, Dazai thinks he might have a heart attack and that would be a lame way to go. Luckily, or maybe unluckily, he does not have a heart attack, although that means he’s probably going to have to go to Mori when he gets back to the base—death may have been more preferable to that. 

Great, he thinks bitterly, not only has he had to deal with Chuuya for over twenty-four now, but now he’s going to have to go see Mori and figure out what the hell is wrong with him. Or you. He wonders if maybe you have an ability that’s somehow affecting him, that would be a serious issue for future missions that the two of you might be paired for. 

But it must be that—it’s the most logical explanation. 

What a mess the past day has been, but…

Dazai thinks it might’ve been worth the trouble, eyes lingering on you for a few moments longer before he takes your hand, taking note of the odd jolt that runs up his arm as soon as your fingers wrap around his hand to help him up. 

He doesn’t notice that even with your fingers locked with his, his heart still beats out of his chest. 

“Don’t tell me you’re over here reminiscing.”

You roll your eyes before looking over your shoulder to focus your gaze on an achingly familiar face. Chuuya drops lightly to the ground behind you, using gravity to soften his fall as he approaches you.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you reply, folding your arms over your chest as a smile curves to your lips. “I was waiting for you.”

“D’aw, did ya miss me?” he asks with a sharp smile.

You have a retort ready to fly from your lips, but instead of speaking it, you sigh and let your gaze drift across the street in Kanagawa-ku that you’re standing in. Even after all of these years, the ground and buildings are still charred where that ability user had attacked you—faded now, of course, but you can still make out the faint remnants of the attacks.

Maybe you are reminiscing, you think to yourself, a heavy feeling settling over you. If you close your eyes, you can almost picture the rubble you were hiding behind, the jolt of fear you’d felt when you realized you wouldn’t be able to dodge the next attack, and then him.

And then Dazai.

“I did,” you admit, dragging your eyes from the ground to look back at Chuuya, whose smile falters a bit before softening.

“I can’t believe Mori had you abroad for three years,” he sighs, reaching out to squeeze your wrist. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do. Let’s head back to headquarters and have a drink. We can put on a movie.”

“Not one of your shitty horror movies,” you laugh, knocking your shoulder into his. You lean into him a bit as he wraps an arm around your shoulders, keeping it draped around you as the two of you start to make your way back to the base.

You hesitate—and Chuuya can feel your hesitation from the way he glances down at you, concerned. He frowns and asks, “What’s up?”

You let out a puff of air and then speak up reluctantly, “Have you… heard from him? Of him?”

You hate the twinge of hope that’s audible in your voice, despite how hard you tried to rid yourself of it. You hate even more the sympathetic look that Chuuya casts you; he knows who you’re talking about instantly—of course, he does, there’s only one person it could be—his lashes lower and his arm drops back to his side. 

“I saw him,” Chuuya says after a few moments. Your eyes widen as your head snaps toward him, waiting for him to continue. “... Met him. He’s part of the Armed Detective Agency now. Got himself captured by us to try to get information to help his new protege.”

“Oh.”

Your throat feels tight. Too tight. Swollen. Your eyes sting painfully and you have to force yourself to take a deep breath. The Armed Detective Agency. New protege. You don’t know if you feel bitter or relieved. Bitter because he’s found a place somewhere without you, relieved because he’s alive and okay. 

His defection still doesn’t even feel real after four years, it’s not like you’ve been in Yokohama long enough to fully process it, but god… you could still imagine him coming up behind the two of you with a snide comment to antagonize Chuuya, eyes trained on you to watch the way you laugh at Chuuya’s reaction. The wistfulness hits you so hard that it almost knocks the air from your lungs—not for the first time since he left, you yearn, you miss him, you want him, and now that you’re finally back in Yokohama after so many years abroad, it’s all the more intense.

How unfair, you think, nails biting into your palms as you stare ahead.

“Do you think he’s replaced us?” You try to keep your voice light, but you think you fail.

Chuuya lets out a bark of laughter. “He can certainly try.”

Your lips curl up at Chuuya’s words, gaze flickering down to the ground. “Yeah, you’re right,” you agree quietly before asking, “Did he seem… okay?”

Chuuya rolls his eyes. “I’m not talking about that shithead anymore,” he tells you. “I’m sure he’ll come looking for you now that you’re back. Let’s go home now, yeah?” 

The thought of Dazai coming to look for you makes your stomach twist with anxiety; after so many years apart, you just don’t know what to expect… but you suppose you’ve never really known what to expect from him, so you’ll just handle him the same way you always have. Except maybe not as kindly.

But you don’t have to worry about that yet.  Instead, you smile and bump shoulders with Chuuya again.

“Yeah, let’s go home.”

[gabessquishytum]

Hob desperately wants his neighbor, dream. Only one issue: dream is his friend orpheus’s dad. But he’s recently divorced, a total dilf and the second hob turns 18 he goes for it.

hob comes over with cookies when Orpheus goes to his mom’s for the holidays and they got a little drunk and next thing Dream knew hob was on his knees, making him feel better by sucking his brains out through his cock. He spends the rest of the week in Dream’s bed, letting Dream work his frustrations out on all his holes.

Now it keeps happening. Hob would feel bad about it, but dream has an exceptional dick and good credit. Hob can’t get enough of him. He’ll beg for more, spread himself out on his bed and take Dream’s cock until he’s coming dry.

Aww Hob is just being a good citizen! Helping poor ole divorced Dream recover from his trauma! Who else is gonna put food in the fridge and make sure that Dream doesn't go off the rails?

Hob does feel like he's being a little manipulative. See, Orpheus is going off to university and Dream is hyper aware that he's gonna be all alone. Hob, however, has no plans to leave town. He'll be working at the grocery store, collecting his minimum wage, heading around to Dream’s work after work with a six-pack of beers. He's dependable, he won't let Dream be lonely. He bakes cookies on his days off and feeds them to Dream in bed, sucking chocolate chips off his thumb and getting crumbs between the sheets. When Dream threatens to end the affair Hob just smiles and nods understandingly, knowing full well that Dream will be calling him to come over at 2am.

The problem is that they're so damned compatible. Hob’s a nasty little slut, always ready to go again, always wanting to try something new, always drooling for more. And Dream is so happy to be wanted. He also thinks that Hob is the most gorgeous thing. He might be a god of some kind, with all that golden youthful skin. One evening they're laying in bed and Dream pulls out a ring box, pushes a diamond ring onto Hob’s finger before he can even say yes or no. He grumbles when Hob tries to kiss him. He doesn't grumble quite so much when Hob sucks his dick and swallows every drop of cum. He keeps his engagement ring finger wrapped around Dream’s dick the whole time.

Hmm. Maybe they'll have a spring wedding.

[bloop-bl00p]

Alastor could have been Native American

Before anyone screams racism, removal of representation, or whatever I redirect you to my post about the Voodoo representation of the show.

→ HERE ←

First thing first, Alastor is not a Wendigo but his cannibalism aspect led to fans believing the contrary, a belief that was pushed further with him being a deer. Wendigoes aren’t related to deer at all, they mostly look like men who are visibly starved and all. The deer thing came from pop culture.

Now you’re gonna ask..

“You’re all for representing properly religion and culture why would you want him to be American Indian if he’s not a proper wendigo?”

He could be a skinwalker with small elements of wendigo.

Here’s a small rewrite

It’s not related to Hell’s Safe Haven, I’ll be doing something different, feel free to take the idea for your oc if you want. But remember, Always do research :)

Why a skinwalker? They are shamans who started as healers but broke taboos from the culture which involve using their ability for harm and curses. If you’re smart then you should see where I’m going with this.

Rather than being an “evil voodoo man” Alastor could have been a shaman who transgressed important rules and became a skinwalker, one of these taboos is murdering a close relative to align with darker powers which pretty much fits for Alastor. Obliviously, you don’t villainize the whole culture, you can still show that shamanism, when not perverted by skinwalkers, can do good. Alastor’s mother could have also been a shaman and went to Heaven.

He could still have been a serial killer, stalking and learning the routine of his victims before killing them. Then he could have died in the snow because hunters noticed his activities in the forest, thanks to their dogs smelling the putrid flesh of the bodies he was carrying around, and then he got shot. Or you can have it that he managed to escape but got lost and had to eat part of the corpse he managed to get with him, but he also had to use their skin to not try and protect himself from the cold in vain partially linking him to Wendigoes.

In Hell, he could have looked like a starved disturbing-looking deer, starved because of wendigos and deer because that’s the animals he favored the most to lure people. In terms of powers, he could have the ability to reproduce people's voices through electronics mainly using radios to do so. A cool detail could be that these voices sound slightly disturbing and fake.

He completely took a more charming and refined aesthetic once in Hell to appeal to and manipulate others more easily. Skinwalkers are described as carrying bones I guess that could help for a possible redesign. Since his appearance is quite scary he could wear a hat to hide his face.

The actual critic

This is really a surface-level thing, it's a first draft based on Wikipedia, but you can’t say that it’s not remotely much more cohesive than whatever Viv is doing with Alastor.

This is something that absolutely frustrates me with the Hellaverse, Viv has very surface-level concepts, and she doesn't do enough research to bring them to their potential. It happens with Voodoo, the Goetia, the Seven Deadly Sins, and the whole pantheon of biblical figures.

What she does is she takes these cool ideas and slaps them onto her oc without much thought.

Take an example with Andrealphus, he teaches math and geometry so one of my first thought is to give me space manipulation. This means he can basically change your location in an enclosed space, turn an entire room around, and twist it to his liking. With his knowledge of maths and geometry, he knows what to do specifically to make you land exactly where he wants which makes him extremely hard to fight inside a house, especially if it’s a big place.

He could also completely reshape the laws of geometry and physics, how funny would it be to see that he lives in a small house, not taking much place but then you go outside and discover it’s basically a whole castle? It’s generic but it makes sense and makes places for lots of interesting scenes for fights or just aesthetics.

Vivziepop chose to give him ice power, for some reason. I mean math isn’t really an attractive notion in terms of supernatural abilities but you can still do something interesting with it. Unless his castle is a geometrical wet dream, I don’t see a possible link between the two. It’s a matter of creativity and the willingness to do research to cultivate it, she doesn't have that.

If you just slap very specific labels (like voodoos) on a character without thinking about how it could work for them and affect the world around them (if voodoo works then the Lwas exists), then not only you are not doing your “job” as a writer but you are just doing it for the aesthetic. It’s not wrong to do if it’s mundane things like saying that one character knows how to speak Latin, but in some cases, you gonna have to be careful about what you write in your stories.

[mariacallous]

Georgian President Salome Zourabichvili has condemned the “horrifying murder” of transgender woman Kesaria Abramidze, who died from multiple stab wounds in her home on Wednesday.

Abramidze, a well-known 37-year-old model, was found dead by her neighbors, who were alerted by screams coming from her apartment. A 26-year-old man, allegedly her ex-partner, was arrested after CCTV footage showed him fleeing the building 15 minutes after his arrival.

“Horrifying murder! Rejection of humanity! This should be a sobering call … Hatred drenched in hatred, which weakens and divides us and gives a hand to an enemy to manipulate us,” Zourabichvili wrote on her personal Facebook page. “I hope the death of this beautiful young woman will make us more humane, more Christian. I hope this tragedy will not be in vain.”

Abramidze’s killing comes just a day after the Georgian parliament passed its anti-LGBTQ+ law, despite strong warnings from the European Union that it would harm Georgia’s EU accession. Zourabichvili had opposed the legislation, dubbing it a “Russian law” designed to “divide society.”

Adopted under the guise of protecting family values and minors, the legislation, among other things, bans medical treatments for changing gender, “LGBT propaganda” and same-sex marriages.

The EU’s top diplomat, Josep Borrell, had warned that the law “undermines the fundamental rights of the Georgian people.”

“I call on Georgia to withdraw this legislation, which further derails the country from its EU path,” he wrote on X on Wednesday.

However, Georgian Prime Minister Irakli Kobakhidze defended the bill, describing it as a tool to improve the perception of Europe among Georgians as a place of “traditional and Christian values,” rather than one of “LGBT propaganda.”

“This law ensures that a man should be called a man and a woman should be called a woman,” Kobakhidze said on Wednesday.

Double pressure

Gender and gender identity intolerance remain the leading motives of hate crimes in Georgia, according to the Georgian Prosecutor’s 2023 report. Out of 1,218 persons charged with hate crimes last year, 1,164 were charged on the ground of gender-based hate crimes.

“The majority of defendants charged with hate crimes are adult men and the majority of the victims of hate crimes are adult women,” says the report.

After Abramidze’s death made headlines, Temida, an organization that helps Georgia’s LGBTQ+ community with shelter, psychological and other health services, launched a hotline to offer psychological aid.

“We have received up to 16 calls since yesterday,” said Beka Gabadadze, the chairperson of Temida, adding that callers had asked: “If she was killed, someone so successful and well-off, what will happen to us?”

There have been three other high-profile murders of transgender women in Georgia in the past decade.

Temida, along with other service providers for the LGBTQ+ community, is facing a two-fold threat to its work in Georgia.

The Russian-leaning Georgian Dream government recently adopted its “foreign agent bill,” requiring organizations receiving more than 20 percent of their funding from abroad to register as “serving the interests of a foreign power.”

Civil society groups have argued that the law allows the government to disclose an unjustified amount of information about their staff and beneficiaries.

Gabadadze fears Temida won’t be able to operate under this double pressure and the organization will be forced to close down if the government demands it share its beneficiaries’ personal information.

“This would mean I’d need to out people. It’s better for us to close down than disclose this information,” he said.

He elaborated that the adoption of the anti-LGBTQ+ law may contribute to the prevalence of HIV in the country, as their awareness-raising campaigns could be interpreted as “LGBT propaganda” under the new law.

“Our services aimed at HIV prevention require outreach. We won’t be able to do this efficiently, which could lead to a rise of HIV cases,” he said.

Last year Georgia’s annual LGBTQ+ Pride event was evacuated by the police after hundreds of counterprotesters stormed the site.

[megamindsupremacy]

Relativity Falls AU Outline [Part 1] Part 2

-Dipper and Pacifica hire some contractors and they start building an interdimensional portal in Dipper's basement. Dipper is currently living in an abandoned hunting lodge that he broke into and decided was his now. Since nobody has contested this so far, it is more or less actually his now.

-Building the portal is 90% Bill telling Dipper what to do, Dipper trying to write all of his notes down in a panic, and then trying to transcribe these notes into something for the contractors to build an actual portal out of. (Everyone say "thank you Head Construction Manager Wendy, The Actual Only Reason This Thing Is Coming Along As Well As It Is)

-Or don't, all things considered.

-I just think it's endlessly funny that Dipper (JOURNALISM MAJOR) now has to build an interdimensional portal in his basement. Bill chose correctly in the sense of "someone desperate for validation and gullible enough to follow Bill's instructions" but didn't luck out with "has the technical know-how to actually make the damn thing"

-Dipper takes all of his notes in some journals Mabel recently sent him. She decorated them all like their old scrapbooks, and told him to "Write something cool in them!" Dipper figures, hey, supernatural mysteries and instructions for an interdimensional portal are pretty cool.

-They all have a Big Dipper symbol on the front cover. The pine tree symbol in the zodiac is similarly replaced with a Big Dipper constellation.

----

-The portal's construction takes over a year. In this time, Dipper and Pacifica grow a lot closer. They go from nemeses, to allies, to friends, to... something more than friends? 👀👀👀

-Pacifica gets pregnant.

-She doesn't yet know she's pregnant when she accidentally gets sent through the portal. Dipper drags her back, but whatever she saw (and she sure as fuck isn't saying what) on the other side has her FREAKING the FUCK out. It's like that "ant trying to process momentarily comprehending the soul of Cuthulu and going insane" post. It's overwhelming.

-She tries to convince Dipper that they need to shut the portal down and stop everything, but he refuses to listen. Dipper's obsessed. Over the past year of working on the portal, he, with the help of Bill's manipulations, has gotten fixated on finishing the portal and "discovering the mysteries of Gravity Falls". He won't hear a word about shutting the thing down.

-Actually, he's interrogating Pacifica about what she saw on the other side of the portal, asking her all of these questions, and generally being not as gentle and sympathetic with someone who just Experienced The Cosmic Horrors as he should be. He's demanding to know what was on the other side and refusing to take "stop asking" for an answer, meanwhile Pacifica is still shaking on the floor trying to process everything that just happened to her.

(Sorry, Paz)

-Dipper doesn't stop her when she runs away, back to her home.

-They... stop talking after that.

Part 1 | Part 2 |

[olivialau]

Shadow's Embrace Ch.26

Sukuna x Reader

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fanfiction based on the universe of "Jujutsu Kaisen," created by Gege Akutami. The original manga, anime, and characters belong to their respective owners and creators.

Notes:

This story unfolds in the Jujutsu Kaisen world, set in a slightly altered universe where Sukuna inhabits his own vessel distinct from Itadori Yuji's body, making him a separate entity.

Summary:

Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, becomes fascinated with a female sorcerer rich in potential but lacking control. Initially seizing her for his destructive plans, Sukuna aims to bind her abilities through a contract. Yet, as he tries to dominate her, he finds himself intrigued by her strength and determination. Over time, his interest evolves from strategic advantage to a deeper, personal connection.

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CHAPTER 26 - Showdown

You stood beside Sukuna a little while longer, your breath unconsciously falling into rhythm with his. The quiet was broken only by the crunch of small rocks beneath his restless feet. He seemed incapable of standing still, as if he were waging a war in his mind, a battle he tried to fight out with the gravel beneath him instead.

His hands flexed and clenched, the veins bulging visibly under his skin. And all the while, his gaze remained fixed on the distant line of trees, deliberately avoiding you, as though even a glance in your direction might tip the balance of the conflict within him.

It felt odd to see someone as powerful as Sukuna grappling with something. You'd never imagined that anything could rattle his unshakable ego.

Was he genuinely that disturbed by the rare kindness he had shown?

Now that you'd thought about it, he had been acting surprisingly restrained almost the entire day. Apart from his harsh words, that is. It was slightly disconcerting, like a lion choosing to lie down with a lamb. But part of you couldn’t help but hope he might lie down with you a little longer.

However, beyond the idle daydreams and hopes surrounding Sukuna, you couldn’t deny that his restraint was also a valuable opportunity. If you could persuade him to grant you some time alone, you’d have the freedom needed to pursue your true objective for today: tracking down the curse that killed Ayumi.

You were sure he wouldn’t simply agree to the idea of his ‘pawn’ potentially risking her life in a quest for vengeance.

But fortunately, Sukuna’s influence had made you better at deception.

The countless lies you spun at Jujutsu High, the half-truths you told your friends and Gojo—all were a result of the pact he forced on you. In the end, he had shaped you into a liar and manipulator, and you felt no guilt about using those very skills against him now.

If anything, it seemed almost poetic—fitting that he would finally face the consequences of his own games.

"Sukuna…” you began, softly, as if unsure. It was better to let him think he had the upper hand, that this was a moment of genuine vulnerability.

His gaze remained fixed on the distance as he kicked the next rock with particular harshness, as if to underscore his earlier warning against overstepping.

“What?” he grumbled, sending another stone skidding further away.

“I was thinking,” you muttered, carefully choosing your words. “Ayumi’s grave… it’s not far from here. I haven’t had a chance to visit since, well, everything happened. I thought maybe I could go there for a bit. Alone. Just to… pay my respects.”

Sukuna’s expression didn’t shift at first, but a small sneer soon curled his lips as that familiar, fiery glint returned to his eyes. He seemed eager for the opportunity to revert to his usual demeanor, to distance himself from the inner turmoil he was feeling.

This was comfortable for him—simple, instinctive.

"And why,” he drawled slowly, “should I let you run off by yourself? Didn’t I tell you already that I do not care about your dead friend?”

The way he referred to Ayumi stung, but you forced yourself to swallow your emotions and look away, focusing on your feet. “I… I just thought…” you stammered, letting your voice waver ever so slightly under the guise of false vulnerability “I thought maybe… you’d understand. Just this once.”

He tilted his head slightly at your pleas, finally turning to face you. And the cold look in his eyes told you everything—you weren’t getting anywhere with this approach. Maybe another tactic would work better...

Your mind scrambled for an answer, and only one thing came to mind.

Sukuna thrived on power and the satisfaction of seeing people helpless under his control. If you could play to that, if you could flatter his ego and make him believe you were utterly at his mercy, perhaps he’d grant you some leeway.

Your voice tightened. “Besides, it’s not like I could ever escape you," you said, as you you fidgeted with your hands. "It's like you said this morning, I'm well aware of that. Me, my friends, my family… you could erase them all with just a flick of your fingers.”

You clenched your jaw, hating the groveling tone you had to use, but you pressed on, “I'd never be foolish enough to go against someone as powerful as you.”

Sukuna’s grin deepened, his sharp teeth gleaming. “Keep going.”

With great hesitation, you glanced up through your lashes and looked him in the eyes. “Your strength is beyond anything I could imagine, and I understand my place. I’m not trying to defy you—I’m just asking for... a bit of time.”

He watched you for a moment longer, relishing the way you lowered yourself before him. Then, with a slow, deliberate sigh, he turned his gaze back toward the trees. ““Fine,” he said. “Go. But one wrong move and I’ll slice through this building and everyone in it.”

You couldn't hide your relief, a pleased expression crossing your face.

This certainly made things easier.

“Also,” he called out, “don’t try an act like that again, little sorcerer... While it was thoroughly entertaining to hear you beg through gritted teeth, I have no patience for those who grovel. At least retain some measure of dignity and strength.”

Annoyed by Sukuna's remark, right after you put yourself through something so humiliating, you rolled your eyes, letting sarcasm seep into your voice despite your better judgment. "So, what would you prefer? Should I say, 'Let me mourn my dead friend, or I'll kick your ass?' Is that what you're looking for?"

As soon as the words left your mouth, you tensed. This was incredibly reckless.

Why did you have to provoke him right after getting his permission? You were growing too bold around him, and you knew it.

The familiar shiver of fear gripped you as his eyes lit up. Yet, alongside that fear, there was a strange anticipation—an eagerness to see how he would respond to your challenge.

"You’d kick my ass?" he repeated, his voice dangerously quiet.

Sukuna turned toward you fully, and in an instant, he had his hand firmly grasping your shoulder. The tips of his sharp nails pierced through the fabric of your dress, sinking into your flesh with a painful pressure that kept you immobilized.

"I should tear you apart just for entertaining that thought." His eyes locked onto yours and a silent battle of gazes played out between you.

In that moment, the strange anticipation you’d felt began to make sense.

At first, whenever he threatened you like this, you felt pure survival instinct—an acute awareness that this man, this monster, could extinguish your life in a heartbeat.

But now? The dynamic was shifting. It wasn’t merely a matter of him threatening you; it felt as though you were both testing each other, dancing on the edge of danger.

It felt almost like… banter. Like a twisted, deadly version of it, sure, but still—there was a strange rhythm to these exchanges.

You wondered if he sensed it too. Was he playing the same game you were, or did his words still hold the lethal danger they always had?

For now, you didn’t want him to revoke his permission, so it was wiser to hold back on the challenge. "Hey… it was just a joke," you said, pulling your eyes away from his, in an attempt to defuse the situation.

But Sukuna wasn’t finished. He grasped your chin firmly, drawing your face back toward him.

"A joke?" His voice was a low hiss, and his lips curled into a snicker that sent a chill through you. "Do you want to know what happened to the last fool who dared joke with me? A clan leader in the Heian Era, thought himself clever, thought we were equals."

His next words slithered out slowly, each one more menacing than the last. “He lost his tongue first... then his eyes. And now? He’s just another forgotten name rotting in the dirt..."

Despite the dark threat hanging in the air, there was something inside you that refused to flinch, a quiet voice that knew—he wouldn’t kill you. Not now. Not like that. Maybe it was reckless, maybe you were just as foolish as that clan leader, but you felt the urge to push him further.

You needed proof that you weren’t just another pathetic human to him, another soul he would casually destroy. That there was something—anything—that set you apart. That was the only way in which your own feelings could have any meaning.

“Well," you began, fighting to keep your voice steady. "You’re the one who said you hate weaklings who grovel, right? And you’re the one training me. Doesn’t that mean you want me to be stronger?”

Now the pendulum could swing both ways.

Sukuna's brows drew together and his jaw tightened with irritation. He released your shoulder with a sharp shove, causing you to stagger back a step. "Stronger, yes. But not stupid. There's a difference, and you'd do well to learn it."

He exhaled, a low, rumbling sound like the growl of a beast that had been repeatedly prodded. 'I'll let it go, this once, but keep running your mouth like that, and we'll see how much longer you last."

A strange sense of satisfaction settled over you, knowing he was being lenient with you—far more than he would with anyone else.

You swallowed the smug grin threatening to rise and kept your tone steady. "Got it. Keep my mouth shut, loud and clear."

Sukuna's eyes held you with a silent warning, yet there was a contradictory glint of challenge in his stare, as if he were daring you to step out of line again.

When you didn’t, he simply sighed and rubbed his temples. "Now go. Before I change my mind."

You stumbled slightly as you turned, quickly regaining your balance. With a hurried nod, you walked away, resisting the urge to look back, though you could feel the weight of his gaze tracking your every step until you disappeared from view.

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

At first, you headed in the direction of the graveyard. Though there was little chance Sukuna knew your true intentions or even where the graveyard was, you wanted to keep your cover airtight.

Once you were certain you were out of his sight, you veered sharply to the left, abandoning the path to the graveyard in favor of a narrow alleyway leading to the abandoned construction site.

Pulling out your phone, you texted your mom, letting her know you'd be back in an hour and that you were heading to Ayumi's grave for a moment alone. You made sure to end the message with a “love you” and a kiss… just in case the worst happened.

As you turned into a familiar street near your house, you could have sworn you saw something slip around the corner—a dark shadow, there one moment and gone the next.

A chill ran down your spine, and you wondered why you had such a visceral reaction.

You glanced around, but the street was eerily quiet, not a soul in sight. There was no cursed energy either, certainly not Sukuna’s—you would have recognized that instantly. Shaking off the unease, you turned your gaze back to your phone. It was probably just a stray dog; they wandered through here all the time.

Just before you rounded the final corner, you could already spot the tall cranes and scaffolding of the construction site rising above the rooftops. You paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

It was odd; you didn’t feel fear—only a deep sense of relief that this moment had finally arrived.

It seemed like fate, as if you were following a predetermined path. It had to be you. You had to be the one to end this. Only then could you truly begin to mourn Ayumi, to remember her as she deserved to be remembered, rather than as a symbol of your failure.

With that strange sense of ease settling over you, you stepped onto the site. The vast, desolate space stretched out before you, its concrete floor littered with debris, while the skeletal cranes and rusting scaffolding cast long shadows beneath the cloudy sky.

You paused, planting your feet firmly on the concrete as you centered yourself and searched for the flow of your cursed energy.

And then; you shouted with all the force you could muster.

For a moment it was silent, save for the echo of your scream bouncing off the steel structures. But within seconds, the ground beneath you began to tremble, and from the shadows of the scaffolding emerged the first-grade curse, its dangerous aura unmistakable and all too familiar.

It was as repulsive as before, its head swaying loosely from its neck with every movement, like an old marionette. The curse's grin stretched wide, its eyes gleaming with recognition as if it remembered your previous encounter.

And the twitching of its claws betrayed the same intent you harbored; the intent to kill.

What you needed right now was a moment of physical contact so you could feed of its energy and bolster your own. And if there was ever a moment to get the upper hand it was right now, while it'd be off guard.

So you didn't hesitate and within seconds, you had closed the distance and seized its ugly leg.

You took a deep breath, focusing on the flow of cursed energy within you. Following Gojo's advice, you let the curse's energy trickle in slowly, like turning a faucet just enough to avoid being overwhelmed.

And, as your energy expanded, you entered a moment of perfect synchronicity.

This was your chance.

With a deep breath, you let it pulse out in a single, powerful wave. As you felt the energy align perfectly, you thrust your fist forward, unleashing a Black Flash that struck the curse’s gut with brutal force.

The impact propelled the creature backward into the scaffolding, and the violent crash of metal collapsing echoed through the site.

You couldn't help but chant a triumphant "yes" as you clenched your fist, savoring the victory. But there was no time for celebration; the screeching curse quickly regained its footing and began to charge up its own attack.

With a sudden twist of its body, the curse launched its head forward like a striking whip. It sliced through the air, stopping mere inches from your face, before its jaws snapped shut so close that a few strands of your hair floated away in the stream of wind.

Instinctively, you prepared to step back, but as the curse’s head began to retract, a plan formed in your mind. You ducked low and maneuvered under its head, grabbing hold of the thread-like strip of flesh that tethered its head to its body.

You gripped tightly with both hands to maximize contact, and in its confusion, you managed to drain a significant amount of energy before the curse’s claws lashed out, forcing you to let go.

But it still wasn’t enough.

You needed to drain more—enough to reduce its power to that of a second-grade curse—because your current attacks weren’t doing sufficient damage to shift the battle in your favor.

After catching your breath, you steadied yourself, preparing to close the distance again. However, it seemed the curse had caught on to your strategy. Each time you lunged forward, it swiftly ducked and evaded your attacks.

And although you managed to land a few punches and kicks along the way, the curse retaliated with its claws, leaving painful but fortunately superficial wounds.

As the battle dragged on, your initial calm began to give way to mounting frustration.

Despite your best efforts to remain focused, your emotions began to overwhelm you. Each grin and mocking gesture felt like a personal affront, fueling a seething anger that left you trembling. The thought of Ayumi lingered in your mind, and you couldn't shake the image of the curse making those same taunting faces at her before it took her life.

In a desperate, final bid to replicate your previous tactic, you lunged and grabbed the bloody string of flesh. However, this time, the curse responded with an unexpected counter. It began to swing it's head violently, causing the string to coil around your arms and upper body, pinning you in place.

You fought furiously, tearing at the binding flesh, but the close contact made it difficult to control the energy you were drawing in. So while you finally succeeded in weakening the monster to a second-grade level... the cost was devastating.

You felt your body strain under the sudden energy overload, every muscle screaming in protest as your legs grew weaker and weaker.

When you finally managed to tear yourself free from the rope of flesh, your legs gave way beneath you, and you collapsed to your knees, gasping. Your lungs burned with the effort, while your vision started to blur at the edges.

You could only watch as the curse retracted its head, grinning at you in that repulsive manner, taunting you with every second. And then, as it launched its head again, you couldn’t get your legs to move out of the way. You just barely managed to shift your own head, as it clamped its teeth down unto your shoulder.

The harsh crunch of bones between its jaws drove a scream of agony from you, while warm blood began to trickle down your chest.

You laughed at how pathetic you felt. Was this really how it was going to end? What about Ayumi? What about the revenge you'd promised? And your family—if you didn’t make it back, would Sukuna slaughter everyone there?

No... you couldn't let that happen.

You had to move, despite the pain, despite the exhaustion. You had to get yourself to move. You could endure this. A bite to your shoulder wouldn't kill you. So move.

Move, body, just—move.

With that final, desperate chant inward, you channeled every ounce of your cursed energy into your free arm. It surged into your fist, and then, with a perfect strike, you delivered a punch straight to the beast’s jaw.

The curse let out a shrill screech and finally released its bite on your shoulder.

Going on pure adrenaline and willpower, you forced your battered body to roll out of the way. You swiftly darted behind the curse, which was still reeling from the impact and clutching its throbbing jaw.

And you searched once again for that moment of perfect balance, perfect synchronicity, where everything aligned as if the universe itself was urging you on.

And then, you felt it—Black Flash.

With all your might, you swung your fist forward, closing your eyes to savor the moment of bliss that usually came with landing a Black Flash.

But there was no impact—just a deafening bang.

When you opened your eyes again, the curse started to dissolve before you.

You blinked in confusion, trying to understand what had just happened. If you hadn’t struck it, why was it screeching in terror and gradually fading into a dense, obscuring fog?

And more importantly, did this mean that the burden of guilt you carried, the sole chance to ease that weight and the one opportunity for revenge, was slipping away into nothingness before your eyes?

That realization struck hardest, occupying your mind over any lingering questions about what had just transpired.

Until, as the monster vanished and the fog began to clear, your gaze fell upon something in the distance—no... someone.

Was it Sukuna? Had he not trusted the situation and come to find you anyway? If so... you would never forgive him for taking away your only opportunity. But as you squinted to get a clearer view, you realized this was someone else entirely.

A tall, muscular man with straight black hair emerged from the shifting fog, his presence commanding a certain attention as you found yourself unable to look away.

He wore a snug black shirt and loose white pants, but what stood out above all else was the worm-like creature draped around his body and the three-section staff he twirled around with casual ease as he approached.

With a self-satisfied expression, he muttered, "Phew. Now that that fucker's out of the way..."

You tensed as he stopped right in front of you, his eyes locking onto yours.

"Sorry, kid," he said with a wolfish grin, tightening his grip on the weapon. "But you're next."

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

Thankyou for reading beautiful babes <3 sooo about that appearance... I know he's canonically ☠️☠️ but it's a fanfiction so I make the rules and the rules say he's not lmaooo

Taglist: @sukunasthightattoos , @tomiokasecretlover , @6demonize6me6 , @blindbabycadder , @domainofmarie , @marcoschuitmaker , @geniejunn , @chanaaaannel

If you want to be added to the taglist, so you don't miss any updates, please let me know in the comments or with a private message. Thankyou!

[shegatsby]

Hello there!

Saw that your requests are open, so I thought I'd leave this here. What about a Hannibal x reader who is a lot like Amy Dunne (Gone girl)? Sorta like friends to enemies to lovers vibes.

Like, she is trying to escape the life she once had under a new identity. She wants a second chance ig. However, upon meeting Hannibal, the nosy bastard just can not stop himself from looking into her and only becomes even more intrigued when he notices her lack of well... authenticity?

She feels threatened by Hannibal just as much as she is attracted to him. Does she flee once more? Do they have a confrontation? Does he try coax or manipulate her back into old habits? Do they form some sort of alliance? Ugh if only I had the creativity and the ability to make choices when it comes to these things! (Totally up to you if you want to add fluff, or smut, or angst, btw)

Anyway, thank you :)

A/N: Hi! Thnak you so much for this request, it was interesting to write. Take care. xxx

Warnings: Smut! Unprotected sex! Minors get the f out or else!

Her mind was a dark place when it comes to men, if she avoided them her entire life none of this would have happened. She wouldn’t have to run to a different state and change her entire identity.. she cursed under her breath when she sat on her new couch in her new home. Now she was in Wolf Trap Virginia, it was moderately cold in winters and it was winter, she moved here in the spring. In the spring it was beautiful, she had always loved flowers and plants, sometimes she wished to be a plant and connect to the soil, it would be a lot easier than this. She bought this house with the money she had from her husband, ex husband who supposedly went ‘’missing’’ one day and left her, she had an excuse to start a new life and that she did. She didn’t want any former friends or family members to contact her thus the change came with its glory. New hair, new style of clothing, new house, new environment.

The house she bought was old and that’s why cheaper than others so she still had some money left, the only problem was that she had to renovate it on her own, sometimes she had cable issues or pipes were making noises etc. However, this time her luck was on her side because she met someone. One night a dog came up to her door, it was a cold night and she let the dog in, it had a name tag but no address so she thought the owner would look for it soon and she was right. The owner of the dog was her neighbor Will Graham, their houses weren’t that close but she had seen him at the supermarket or driving. He offered to help her with fixing the pipes etc. and she offered nice chats and warm meals. Over time they started to share information about each other, of course everything she said was false but Will was honest, he was a university teacher in the department of criminology also he was working for the FBI. She had wondered if Will ever saw her husband’s missing case. Their friendship developed and she started to go to his house, it was Christmas when she met him,

 Doctor Hannibal Lecter.

Will invited her for Christmas dinner and said his other friends and colleagues would be there, mostly FBI, at first she hesitated but wouldn’t be fun for them to be in a room with a killer, little did she know that she wasn’t the only killer in the house.

She wore a nice sweater and black pants, she was simple yet pure looking. She didn’t drive to his house but walked, it wasn’t close but it wasn’t far either. Light snow was falling from the sky, she liked snow and Christmas time, Will’s house was decorated nicely, it looked colorful and warm.

She held her breath and knocked on the door, soon Will answered, holding a mug, he looked cute in his brown sweater and his messy hair, ‘’Glad you could make it.’’ He let her in.

One by one Will introduced her to the others, it wasn’t crowded, before Will could speak the man standing before her extended his hand, ‘’Doctor Hannibal Lecter.’’ She shook his hand, ‘’Y/N,  nice to meet you.’’ She said shortly, feeling uncomfortable under his questioning gaze, Will’s boss Jack joked, ‘’Don’t worry Ms, Doctor Lecter loves to carry his psychiatric work to his social gatherings.’’

‘’A Psychiatrist? I must be careful in this room.’’ She thought to herself.

Rest of the night went smoothly, at the dinner table she had a nice chat with others especially Alana Bloom, she made her feel comfortable, however she kept feeling Dr. Lecter’s maroon gaze and every time she looked at him was watching her, he wasn’t shy of eye contact either. Y/N not saying her last name didn’t go unnoticed by him and he captured her under his observation. She looked extra careful, speaking slowly and choosing her words meticulously. Will and others were smart but they didn’t share his twisted mind and intellect.

After dinner people started to have conversations privately and she got a glass of eggnog and standing by the fire place, Will’s dogs sleeping at corners of the house, ‘’I haven’t got your full name Ms?’’ she heard his deep voice, he had a subtle accent underneath, maybe he was running just like her?

‘’Oh?’’ she asked turning to him, ‘’I apologies, its Y/N Y/L/N.’’ she smiled gently but her eyes were dead, he could see, ‘’It rhymes, your parents must have a good sense of humor.’’ He commented, she could understand that he was intrigued by her, he made a mental note to dig into her social media accounts and thanks to his work with the FBI he had access to search for people’s ID.

‘’May I ask,’’ he began wondering, ‘’what is the true nature of your relationship with Will?’’ because Will never mentioned her till tonight. Her eyes were on the flames, ‘’One night, his dog wandered to my door and he came back to take him, we have been friends since then.’’ She turned to him, there was a warmth to her eyes with the memory, Hannibal was sure now that she wasn’t a sociopath. She could feel things, it could come in handy one day.

‘’Such a sweet story. Will is very fond of his strays.’’ He threw a bait to see if she was going to get angry, because his comment had undertones. ‘’Aren’t we all?’’ she replied quickly. She was smart.

After that night she wished she never saw him again but fate had its own story. The very next day she received a note on her porch, it was printed, ‘’Save me a dance, Fondly.’’ As soon as she read it she dropped the note and called Will. Recently there was a killer on the loose, he was targeting young women who live alone. At first the women find the note and then they are kidnapped within few days, later they end up dead. It could be a stupid prank but she had to be sure, Will brought his team to investigate, the people you dined with yesterday evening now were in your living room questioning you. How odd.

‘’Can you tell us everything Ms Y/L/N?’’ Jack Crawford asked with his professional voice. She told them everything which wasn’t much, Will was sitting next to her, holding her hand in a friendly manner but it irritated Hannibal for some reason he couldn’t place and it made him more irritated. ‘’She has to leave, immediately.’’ His sudden comment made everyone look at him, ‘’Our killer is moving quickly these days. She should be in a protection program.’’ He was saying this on purpose, because he had a plan. ‘’You know what happened last time.’’ Jack replied calmly and yet she could sense that the last woman was most likely dead now. ‘’Before you can arrange accommodations she could stay with me, no one would suspect a thing.’’ Hannibal’s suggestion made her froze, she turned to Will to say something and Hannibal understood her intention and added quickly, ‘’Will lives too close to Ms Y/L/N, the killer is also a stalker. He knows your friendship with Will.’’ He was making sense which she hated. ‘’Ms Y/L/N, please pack yourself a bag.’’ Jack’s final decision was made and she had no choice. She had to survive.

The journey to Hannibal Lecter’s home was a long one, at first Hannibal explained the case to her and they talked about it for a while and then she fell asleep, in this state Hannibal could examine her face closely, she looked like an angel, so soft and innocent but he knew deep down she had deep secrets and he couldn’t wait to reveal them. He enjoyed this game and he wasn’t going to let go of her anytime soon.

His house made her feel like she shouldn’t touch anything, just sit straight and observe. He had expensive taste when it came to architecture and interior design,  paintings on the dark blue walls, every room had a marble fire place, the carpets felt soft under your feet.

‘’This is your room.’’ He walked her in the guest room, it had a queen sized bed with beige sheets, side tables, a big wardrobe which she didn’t even need because she brought a tiny bag, thankfully the room had bathroom and toilet side, in the bathroom there were various hair masks, face masks, shampoos and scrubs etc. ‘’I called a friend to bring these skincare products, I didn’t know which you usually use so my friend got various types. I hope they will be useful.’’

His gesture made her think about him again, it was nice but was he too enthusiastic?

‘’Thank you Doctor.’’ She replied shortly, ‘’Please, call me Hannibal.’’ He gave her a small smile, ‘’I’ll let you freshen up and dinner will be ready shortly.’’

‘’Its okay you don’t have to-‘’ he cut her short, ‘’Please, you are a guest under my roof, and I love to cook for my guests.’’ And he left without letting her speak, she took a long shower to relax and wore a long t-shirt and leggings, his house warm and she was getting more comfortable. She walked downstairs and Hanniabl’s high senses picked up on her fresh skin, she smelled of vanilla and he liked it very much. ‘’Dinner is ready.’’

He also freshened up, he was in more casual clothes but he still looked sophisticated, ‘’Smells delicious.’’ She commented and watched Hannibal pull up a chair for her, ‘’Tastes delicious too.’’ She could hear him close to her ear as she sat, he smelled manly and dominant. He sat to his place, and they started to eat, dinner was a warm soup ad fish with fresh bread, salad on the side and red wine. The fire place was lit in the dining room they were eating, ‘’Hmm,’’ she hummed when she tasted the fish it was so soft and tasty, ‘’You like it?’’ Hannibal shifted in his seat when he heard her, is dark mind went to imaginary intimate scenes with her… imaginary and yet for a second he craved them to be real. He had to give her credit she was a beautiful woman with a feminine aura, but he could sense that she was hiding things from her past and he had to know.

‘’Yes, Hannibal. Thank you.’’ She smiled kindly to him, ‘’How long do I have to stay here?’’ she asked curiously, ‘’As you know Jack is the head of the FBI, he has to make sure he finds a safe and secluded place for you and then I will help you move there. But these processes take time, a lot of paper work so you will be here for a while. I hope you will like it.’’ He explained, testing the waters.

‘’I like your home, especially the interior design, I love paintings, I often visit museums actually.’’ And the conversation of fine art and literature started. She was a well read woman which he admired and liked very much, they exchanged ideas about famous novels and later he played some music for her, he could play harpsichord and he played Vivaldi’s Winter. She sat near to him by the fire with a glass of red wine in her palm, it was delicious, she liked the atmosphere he provided.

The days have passed and made them grow close to each other, with time she started to cook dinner for him when he came from work, she started to clean the house, organize and help him host when he needed. She wondered why Jack still couldn’t find a safe house for her when in fact he kept sending houses to Hannibal via e-mail and Hannibal found excuses and declined on behalf of her, she had no idea about this. It had been a months since she moved in with him, in the mean time the killer didn’t kill no woman, he was silent and she prayed for him to be like that for a while.

One day Hannibal forgot to bring his laptop with him to his work, he left in a hurry because it was related to another case, he kissed her cheek, said goodbye and left, it became their custom. They were growing close but neither of them took a huge step, after he left she tidied around and was looking for a recipe and noticed that his laptop was open and he forgot so she went on Youtube, soon there was an email notification and she hesitated for a moment and then clicked on it. It was from Jack Crawford, sending him yet another safe house and she could feel her heart drop to her feet, she read all of the emails between them and Hannibal declining all of the houses Jack sent. Suddenly she felt trapped by a man.. again. That was the reason she had to killer ex husband and flee. He was an abusive man with drugs and often abused her and cheated on her, one day she had enough, she didn’t remember how she did it but when it was done her husband was on the floor with 50 stab wounds, she kept him in the freezer for a week, didn’t know what to do with him, she cleaned the entire home, burnt every piece of clothing that had blood and she melted the knife she had used, after contemplating for a week she burnt his finger tips and took off his teeth, just in case if his body parts were found she didn’t want any identification to be found.  Some of his parts were rotting under soil and some were deep in a lake or river, she survived and she was going to survive again.

She closed the email tab, and started to cook, she had a plan but so did Hannibal.

Hannibal had already learnt her past, one night after drinking few glasses of strong wine she told him where she was born and said she was divorced and that’s all he needed to know. Thanks to his connection to the FBI it wasn’t so hard to find her old ID. Yes, she was married once despite her young age, the husband was missing and she left their state and travelled all the way to start a new life. He knew that she was the one who made him go ‘’missing’’ and he found himself getting excited. Usually people get caught in their first kill because it is always a sloppy job but she managed to live and make every detail disappear from the public eye. He was just waiting for the right time to expose that he already knew. Tonight was the night.

He came back from work a bit late but as soon as he opened the door his nostrils picked up the delicious scent coming from the kitchen, since it was two of them most of the time they started to eat in the kitchen by the tall window looking outside and chatting about their day.

He walked to the kitchen and there she was, she was wearing a long black dress, covering her entire body but her curves were crystal clear, she was an astonishing woman and Hannibal was the one who could witness it. He was glad she killed her husband because he wanted her all to himself.

‘’Welcome back love.’’ She said and smiled, ‘’You go ahead and freshen up and then we can eat together.’’ He wasn’t an idiot, he picked up on her coldness, she was colder than usual. ‘’See you in a bit.’’ Hannibal replied and went upstairs, as usual he freshened up, didn’t forget to hide a small knife under his sleeve and came back to the kitchen, she smiled but it didn’t reach to her beautiful ears, he sat carefully on the kitchen stool, she brought the food, ‘’How was your day?’’ she asked casually, Hannibal’s eyes first roamed on her body, the white apron wrapped her body tight and made her body look pleasing, she looked much healthier than before, he did a great job taking care of her and so did she. Hannibal’s friends, especially Will and Jack kept mentioning how much Hannibal changed, there was a color to his face and his manners were warmer than before.

They chatted for a while, and then he watched her place her fork and knife on the empty plate, she drank her wine, ‘’I don’t want to beat around the bush anymore,’’ she began and Hannibal knew something was about to happen, ‘’you left your laptop and I saw the emails Jack kept sending you. You were declining his safe house offers for me.’’ Her bluntness made him more attracted.

‘’Give me a good reason.’’ Her voice was daring, he knew if he cannot give a good reason she is going to do something.

He could feel the cold blade in his sleeve, ‘’I simply do not see those houses fit. My house is the safest for you.’’

She stood up, ‘’You think you can put me in a cage!’’ her voice was threatening, ‘’I was trapped before and I’ll not be trapped again!’’

He knew she was traumatized by her marriage and she didn’t want to relive it, he could see it.

‘’That wasn’t my intention,’’ he stood up as well, there was space between them, she took off her apron and threw it on the floor, ‘’I’m leaving.’’ And as soon as she turned he grabbed her hand and made her clash onto his torso, ‘’You are not going anywhere darling.’’ He was so calm it made her question if he was human or not. ‘’Let go of me Hannibal!’’ she managed to get out of his grasp but this time he held her waist and pulled her again, he hugged her from behind, ‘’You cannot leave!’’ she could feel the blade and with a swift move she got the knife, it was sharp so it cut her finger, immediate blood running down her finger and coating her hand in crimson, ‘’Get back!’’ she tried to stab him but the knife was slippery in her hand, ‘’You cut yourself.’’ His voice was so soft and caring, tears running down her cheeks ‘’Please,’’ she begged, ‘’I can’t do it again..’’ she couldn’t help the tears, she couldn’t relive her past.

Hannibal was quick, he trapped her between his body and the kitchen island, he threw the knife on the floor, ‘’Listen to me Y/N.’’  their bodies were pressed, they were breathing heavily, ‘’I won’t do anything to hurt you,’’ she searched his maroon eyes, under the yellow warm lights she could see his dilated pupils, like a man who was drugged, ‘’I am not the man you think I am, I will never do anything to hurt you.’’ He was holding her firmly on both arms, ‘’I did everything for you!’’

She was trying hard to find a lie, or something suspicious in his eyes, but he was telling the truth.

She found herself hugging him, it had been so long since she hugged someone, maybe… maybe this could be it. He was startled at first but then he hugged her back, as they parted he captured her lips, he had wanted to do that for so long. The kiss was so passionate it knocked the breath out of her, his lips were plump and delicious, he was perfect.

As they were kissing their hands were exploring their bodies, his torso and arms were so firm and manly his hands went to the skirts of her dress, pulling up, she let him. Her hands went to his belt and he helped her, Hannibal had to be honest, he had been imagining this scene for weeks, he wanted to be at the comfort of his bed but both of them couldn’t wait that long for they were desperate.

He was biting her lips, moaning like a mad man, when her hand went to is boxers and she felt how hard he was and she moaned into his mouth which made him get more exited, she pumped him through his boxers, Hannibal wasn’t like this usually but something in her brought his dark animalistic side to the light and he felt like himself, without faking to fit in with the society. She was eager to pull his pants and bowers down and he quickly pulled everything down, she broke the kiss to look at his large cock, it was just as she expected, large and clean, his tip was covered in pre-cum, she looked up to meet his eyes, she could see the hunger and need, Hannibal made her sit on the kitchen island and positioned himself between her legs, he brought her black panties to the side, when he started to tease her with his tip she was a moaning mess, ‘’Hannibal..’’ she moaned in protest, it had been so long since she had slept with anyone.

He looked at her divine face, cheeks flushed, mouth parted, ‘’Do you want me?’’ he asked with a low baritone, ‘’Yes, please.’’ She replied eagerly and he slowly pushed his cock in her soaking core, Hannibal almost came with the contact because she was so tight it was unbelievable.

The blood on her hand dried but left marks on his clothes, neck, cheeks, he deeply buried himself and moaned in satisfaction, she was gripping him tight, he pulled back completely and pushed again and started a rhythm. His balls were slapping her, wet noises filling the kitchen, ‘’Kiss me.’’ She begged and he complied willingly, he was like a wild animal, she could feel his cock tearing her insides, when he grabbed her boob tightly they both felt the wetness growing inside her, even though they were fully clothed they didn’t care. He let his tip hit her insides fiercely and she had to break the kiss to moan loudly, he was hitting the spot which his ex husband could never do, this was something she was experiencing for the first time and her eyes rolled back, her head falling back and Hannibal buried his head to the crook of her neck, he kissed her neck, biting her and leaving bruises. ‘’Hannibal…’’ she moaned his name over and over again.

She was getting tense which Hannibal noticed and he soothed her, ‘’Shhh, let go, don’t be afraid..’’ he knew she was holding back and with his encouraging words she came in gush of water, it was her first time squirting and it was intense, Hannibal caressed her face, her hair and let her live it, experience it for the first time, he pulled out and didn’t mind the mess she made, matter of fact it was hot and he wanted to continue fucking her and leave her seed in her, would she allow it? He wanted to try.

When she relaxed a bit he pushed back in, he wasn’t done with her, and now she was more sensitive, the tiny voices she was making pushed him over the edge and he came inside her really hard, he was a moaning mess and she loved it, she kissed her as he came, when they were done she kissed her gently, he was still buried deep, ‘’It’s okay.’’ She said, noticing the worry in his eyes, he kissed her back, Hannibal knew that after tonight he wasn’t going to let her ago.

She was his.

Thank you for reading. :)

[kleinblue52]

Since everyone's playing, let me add my two cents about the Agatha All Along/Teen theories.

First of all, I've read several posts mentioning that Teen said his mother is dead. Unless I missed something, I don't think that's the case. When he was talking about his mom seeing Alice's mother in concert before she died, I think he meant before LORNA died. Did I interpret that wrong?

So, if I'm right, Rebecca Kaplan might be alive and well. I do want Teen to be Billy. At the same time though, as soon as Nicholas' room appeared and we saw the lock of hair, I was immediately drawn to the Nicholas Scratch theories. I DON'T want him to be Nicholas, but it would make so much sense.

Right now the biggest mystery to me is that damn rabbit. There's a strong connection between that rabbit and Teen's identity, much stronger than the rabbit simply being named after Nicholas/Agatha's dead son. In WandaVision, Billy is very attached to the rabbit, and Teen is shown petting it as well. That might be a connection between the two. BUT, at the same time, Teen is shown next to the picture of a rabbit and he's also shown hopping around when he's bound. So those might be clues that connect Teen to the name Scratch. THEN AGAIN when we see Nicholas' room, his music award is shown next to the figurine of a rabbit. Which made me think... what if Señor Scratchy is actually Nicholas? Rio is supposedly Nicholas' mother as well and she spoke to Agatha in Spanish in more than one occasion. The rabbit being called Señor might be a nod to that. Maybe when Agatha tried to sacrifice Nicholas for some selfish reason, Rio intervened and made it so that Nicholas would only be (temporarily?) transformed into Agatha's familiar? I have a feeling that Rio is being painted as a villain because Agatha doesn't exactly remember what happened, but it's probably Rio who has a good reason to hate Agatha, and not the other way around.

SO my final theory here is that the rabbit is actually Nicholas. Agatha might find a way to remember about him and maybe save him from the spell he is under at the end of the Witches' Road and with the help of Rio. Teen is Billy, he knows that he's Wanda's son for some reason and he wants to use the Witches' Road to bring Wanda back, and he'll probably end up betraying the Coven in order to do that. He already has power and he's lying about his ultimate goal.

I would LOVE that storyline, not only because I want Teen to be Billy, but also because it would create such deep and moving parallels between Agatha, who barely remembers that she has lost a son, Rio, who is grieving that loss and maybe is manipulating Agatha to get to the end of the Witches' Road to get Nick back, Teen/Billy who is manipulating everyone to get his mom back and Wanda, who manipulated the whole Multiverse to get Billy and Tommy back. A finale in which Billy manages to bring Wanda back would be the perfect lead-in to a Jac Schaeffer Wanda movie.

[lady-dragon-rider]

Scales and Feathers Pt4.

Davos/Benjicot Blackwood, Oscar Tully x Targ! Reader

Reader races against the clock to try and stop things from escalating and attempts to mend bridges. And finds help in unlikely places.

Containing: family arguments, mild Helaena/Aegon x reader (them having a soft spot), reader gags Otto and Alicent, reader plays the game (mild manipulation), canon-divergance

Featuring: reader is fav niece, some Aegon and Helaena fluff bc the actors deserve it.

Gonna be another long one guys!

Bold is text spoken in High Valyrian

---

You wake up the next morning sat in a chair in Helaena's room, a blanket and your sword resting faithfully on your lap. Startled and unsure of how you got there you frantically look around the room for anything awry.

"Be calm dear niece, you did well. Aegon and i moved you in here for a reprieve when you started to fall asleep at the door." You hear Helaena's voice coo. Calm knowing violet meets yours as she makes her way from her spot at the bed; dressed and ready for the day.

"I dont-" you groggily mutter rising from the chair. Your shoulders ache and your legs tingle from the position you slept in but otherwise everything feels as it should. "You brought me in?"

"Well Aegon said he wouldve felt bad if you ended up sleeping on the floor outside... he told me what you said to him..." she hums. Helaena smooths out your attire, giving you a glance before she leads you to the bed. "Come, pick something nice. Youll need to look good for council."

"Council? Why would i need to go?" You grunt, staring at the various targaryen coloured dresses laid out for you.

"To give your piece of course silly. You must have your side heard, i fear my husband may get overruled if he is there by himself much longer." She ponders "Now pick and i will help you ready yourself"

---

Just like she promised, the Green Queen helps you ready yourself for council. You hair, done in a fashion similar to hers. You almost dont recognise yourself as you pass the glass windows, stealing glances at the new you. Arm in arm you walk to the war room where council is held in the tower of the hand. You stop at the door and feel your aunts arm slip from yours in order to hug you from the side. "Thank you again, my knightly niece, please give our dear Aegon the same strength and valor... there snakes in the grass, hidden like weeds that chok the crops" she wanders off, no doubt to keep the children company. You dont have much time to dwell on her words as you open the doors, steeling your heart, mind and body for the irritation it will have to endure in the following moments.

Silence follows upon your entry, whatever the conversation was previously, clearly not for your ears.

"And what is the Princess (Name) doing here? Last i heard they were on a marriage tour." Otto asked, feigned confusion in his tone as if he hadnt already figured it out based on last nights events. You hold back a scoff at his display, slowly walking around the table to stand at the side of the kings seat.

"I was, but i had to put a pause as a family emergency called my attention" you speak vaguely, watching as the council men squirm under your emotionless gaze. "Though once i help clear up matters here. I have every intention of completing my tour and finding a suitable lord husband. I was made aware by Queen Helaena that my Uncle and King may need my presence here to inform the council of the nights events." You glance around the room, noting that a key person seemed to be missing. "Where is my Uncle Prince Aemond? Does he not attend council as well?"

"He is on dragonback patrolling at the moment but he is set to appear shortly" Aegon says hands clasped "Why would you need him present?"

"Because this concerns him. His actions against his nephew, my brother, is what caused this to happen. And while all of you sit here throwing dirt on my mothers name for attempted kin-slaying and whatever else, the true kin-slayer remains unpunished, free to roam this very castle and cause untold havoc." You state bluntly. The room falls into tense silence. The heave a sigh to quell the rage bubbling. "I can assure this council that my mother, would never wish a tragedy such as the death of a son to befall another. Even if they had been her worst enemy, which, my sweet Aunt is not."

"What would you have me do then Niece?" Aegon sighs, "Aemond is my brother, and your own Uncle besides. Executing him would not bring him back."

"Are you not the King?" You spit eyes flaring "Do you let the capital crime of kin-slaying go unpunished in your city? Is it not part of your job to make your subject feel safe? What will the smallfolk think when such a thing goes unanswered." You gently take his hand and squeeze. "I would not ask that you kill him. As much as the thought may bring me peace. No, if you cannot bring yourself to exact the kings justice via death penalty, then strip him of his titles, and send him to the wall." You insist. As he considers your proposal, the doors swing open. The person you most loathed to see and the person of conversation comes in. At first, he is shocked to see you, his eye flashing with something you cant quite place before is shifts into something colder. More dangerous. A smug taunting grin fills his slim face.

"Why dear niece i had not planned to see you here." He coos "You truly have grown in to a beaitiful lady, who strongly resembles her parents. Tell me what brings you to kings landing? I thought you were making plans to be wed."

Biting back a sneer you straighten youself and force your face into something more unreadable. "My plans of marriage are still going ahead Uncle, but the thought of staying with my future lord husband had me feeling a bit homesick. So i thought i would make one last trip back to spend time with my precious family. Come to find a stop ploy set about to harm them, caused my your rash actions. Im glad i came when i did. I fear what may have happened would have further broken my heart."

The mention of storms end sees Aemond facade crack slightly. You press your advantage, tone sharp and clear. "I heard you werent in the castle at the time so allow me to bring you up to speed. Your... 'confrontation' with my brother which lead to his death, insighted retaliation from the rogue prince Daemon. Who sought to do harm to your kings children. Fortunately, due to my homesickness and intuition, i managed to stop this tragedy from reoccuring. Because of your actions, this council was called to bring about the appropriate response. I am merely here to give me side and act as the voice of my mother. Whom is the person wronged in this affair."

"And what is the kings 'judgement' on this matter? Hmmm?" He taunts stepping forward and staring down you and Aegon from his side of the room. Its a challenge. And everyone in the room knows it. "What punishment has he deemed fit for me?"

Leaning down you move to whisper in your uncle's ear. "This is the best way, i promise uncle. And, should the weight of the crown prove too heavy for you, im sure mother would be more than happy to unburden you. Aunty Helaena told me how stressed and unhappy you both were... how it was something neither of you wanted. You know in your heart of hearts that my mother is the true heir, she held that title for 20 years and grandsire never wavered. You mother herself said she would make a good queen and yet she has forced you to sit here? In a position she didnt prepare you for, nor one you wanted? Please use this moment to make a good choice, maybe even bridge our family together from the viper that wishes to tear us apart because he knows he cant control us." You breifly glance at Otto, who your sure heard parts of what you said. While he makes not indication that he has the tightening of his lips as the press into a thin line gives you all you need.

He heard. And he knows that you know his motives.

I will route you out, root and stem Otto Hightower. No one shall make a fool of my family, even if it is a bumbling drunk like Aegon.

You watch has the gear start to turn behind his eyes. When your gazes meet you see resolve and determination. It fills you with an odd sense of pride. He nods to himself, as if confirming his ducks are in a row, stands and adresses the room. "Aemond Targaryan. For the crime of kin-slaying your nephew Prince Lucerys at storms end, i charge you with acts of treason, and violence against crown. As punishment; you shall surrender you weapon, your title as prince of the realm, and be sent to the wall to take the black post-haste."

Aemond, Alicent and Otto look horrified at this decree. Stunned into utter silence from the weight of Aegons delivery. The prideful feeling from before surges in you again. Seeing him in this light, with the commanding of a king, grants you new perspective. You smile, and you notice him give you a sideways look. "Guards. Seize him, and prepare him for the journey to castle black." He demands. The guards are quick to act. Though Aemond, still in shock, does little to fight back.

"You grace please reconsider acting in haste-" Otto says, trying to seize control over the situation again. "The death of Prince Luke was an accident with no ill intent, with the potential of war so close should you really be listening to the daughter of women who benefits from your weakened state?"

"It is words like that that have turned this once great house unto the brink of ruin" you hiss, placing a hand on Aegons shoulder "My mother was declared heir 20 years ago, the realm acknowledged her. Bowed to her. She has every right to the throne by the word of widows law, decreeing that children of a first marriage shant be disinherited from title or land by children of a second marriage. Or did you forget that Otto?" She sneers forcing the older man to silence himself.

"Your family have taken my sons eye, and now... when the perpetrator is dead you wish to take more?" Alicent wails "As though 'saving' my grandchildren from would be assassins 'sent by Daemon' was not a ploy to have us indebted to you!"

"If i remember that night correctly your Grace, you were as much absent as my mother was. Can you tell me where you were?" You snap, firey eyes turning to her "And if my memory serves... your son instigated the four versus one fight and lost his eye with his own dagger that he fully intended to use against his nephews. Luke was defending his brother and their betrotheds. You also seemed more than content to draw the prince's blood in exchange. Which might i remind you? Harmed my mother in the process instead. Your son lost an eye over insults yes, but he did that himself. My brother lost his life over it because you both refused to let it end with the fact that Aemond was in a bed of his own making!" Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you stare Alicent down. Her eyes also seem to redden as your tirade winds down, memories of the night coming back as strong as when it had first happened. You feel a hand touch yours. You look in shock as Aegons hand holds the one you have placed on his shoulder. You look away from him, refusing to let him see your tears. Wiping them away furiously you clear your throat and move your hand gently from your uncle's grasp.

"I shall send a letter to my mother informing her of the new developments. I will stay until we get a response back and we shall go from there. I will take my leave if you have no further need of my presence Uncle."

"No. I wish for you stay, there are some matters i think may warrant some... new perspective." He smiles, taking his seat once more as Aemond is escorted out of the room in chains.

---

The meeting feels like it went on forever after that point. But as you try to recollect what was discussed, you find your brain bleeding out of your ears. You exit the room with Aegon and the pair of you wander the hall aimlessly. You follow the imaginary path back to the courtyard in the heart of the keep, staring up at the weirdwood you used to sit under when you were little. You grab Aegons hand and drag him with you. Plopping down on the ground you motion for him to join you.

"This isnt very becoming you know." He jests

"And when have you ever cared for that Egg?" you jab back, giggling. Your laughter stops when you realise that his isnt joining in. You turn and see the look on his face; like you have just physically slapped him. "Are you-"

"What did you just call me?" He interrupts voice small and unsure.

"Uh... Egg?" You answer hesitantly "Did... you not want me to? I overstepped didnt i? I know we werent that close growing up. But i figured since that business the other night we might try- OOFFT" your self-conscious rant is cut off as your knocked backwards by Aegon himself tackling you. Arms tight around your frame and head buried in your neck.

"Im sorry i was a prick growing up... i know we all felt the tension of our parents as children. Thats partly why i drank so much... its why i still do..." you sit quietly as you listen to him, wraping your arms around him and stroking his back. Waiting for him to continue "but you right... that night... it was the worst thing i couldve ever imagined. It gave me a kick i was sorely needing. I need to have my head one straight i know that... but the weight is too much. I dont want this and i dont know what im doing." He sniffs a little and shifts himself to look at your face. "Were you telling to truth? About giving the crown to Rhaenyra? She'd take it... and she forgive me?"

"Of course. I know she would. I would of course, speak for you diligence in trying to fix things and make the best of the situation at hand. Im sure she knows that this wasnt entirely your doing, and that is was people like Otto trying to grab whatever power they could once grandsire had left." You mumble, grabbing onto his cheeks "for all this familys craziness, for all the tension and animosity... she would never wish to do harm to her blood. We were all close at one point... im sure we can come back to that again." You soothe, smiling. He kisses your hairline, which coming from him feels a touch odd, but you accept gracefully. He help you up and you wander the halls again, this time in search for Helaena and the children.

"You are the only person outside Helaena ive shared such concerns with... i didnt know i needed that..." he mumbles.

"Well, im glad i could help. Now. Let us go find our Helaena and write these letters."

--- At Dragonstone ---

"She is WHERE?!" Rheanyra shouts panic plain in her voice "Why ever would she be there?!? Did the greens steal her from under our noses!?!" She frets pacing back and forth around the painted table.

"No mother, the letter states she came there after she saw Daemon skulking off the night of the funeral." Jace says offering the letter for his mother and queen to read. Her eyes scan with a wild madness, searching for a sign of any kind, only to come up empty.

"And what of Daemon? Has he responded to any of our own letters?" The Black Queen asks. Her son shakes his head. Rheanyra clicks her tongue and turns to reread the letter again. "We shall have faith in our girl for now, gods know that Aegon and Helaena use to have a soft spot for her... let us hope that is still the case. In any event we shall respond and use (Name) as an envoy to set our terms. With luck, no more blood shall be spilled"

Even with the authority in her voice she could not hide her worry and hesitation from her son.

"Ill write to her as well, see if she can sway Daemon back. He has proven he cannot be left to his own devices, if this letter from Aegon of people is trustworthy" Jace mutters. Bowing, he makes his exit, leaving his mother to stare solemnly at the flames crackling in the fireplace.

---

Later, you find yourself in the company of Alicent. Sitting at a small table in the sun of the courtyard. You awkwardly sip at your tea, not knowing why she has summoned you nor what you should say. You dont have to wonder long as the queen sighs and says quietly "I have only ever done what i thought was right for my family. What i thought duty and honor demanded of me"

"You once said my mother would make a fine queen... and then you place Aegon on the throne..." you say bitterly

"That was before your grandsire said Aegon was the prince that was promised to unite the realm."

You choke.

"Princess?!" Alicent gasps, jumping up and beginning to reach for you. You put your hand up and cough the remaining tea from your lungs.

"I am fine your grace" you wheeze "But what did you say?" Fear laced your voice.

"Viserys said that Aegon was the prince that was promised" she repeated shocked at your expression and tone.

"Youre wrong your grace."

"What?!" She shrieks

"He was referring to Aegon the conquer. The story goes 'From Aegons line, will come the prince that was promised who will unite the realm. His story will be a song of ice and fire' him and mother used to talk about it all the time when we were younger" you say, the more you speak, the more you see Alicent grow pale.

"...The Conqueror...?" She whimpers falling back into her seat. Rage begins to bubble forth again.

"You put your son.. on a throne he didnt want... based on words you had no conext for from an old man whos mind you turned to mush with milk of the poppy?" You seethe. Your fists clench at your skirts. All of this, all of this strife and chaos has happened due to a misunderstanding?!

Alicent looks like she is on the verge of tears. Hands shaking as she grasps the edge of the table til her knuckles are white.

"... a mistake..." she whispers "i thought-"

"Well you thought wrong" you snap, getting up and crouching beside her "but you can still make it right. I have received a letter from my mother, she has tasked me to be her envoy and speak for terms for her ascension. Your children and grandchildren shall be spared, she has made it clear no harm will come to them if they swear fealty to her."

"But i was told-"

"By whom? Your father? The father who made you forsake your friendship with my mother in order to gain the kings favour? You knew her better than him. Do you think she would? My brother and i were raised to take her place. Amd had you taken her offer to wed Jace and Helaena you wouldve all but secured peace within the family. I know you hold no love for my siblings and i... but we are not bastards. The mothers on our father and mothers side both had dark hair in their blood. And look-" you pull at clumps of your hair, showing the mix of silver and choclate locks. "Both sits atop mine head. Just like my grandmother" you stand and and dust your skirts. With a shallow cursty you turn to leave. When Alicents voice class out to you.

"How is a child your age so wise? So impetuous toward your elders? To speak with authority in a situation where you have none." The glare she gives is half-hearted, a vain attempt to command your obedience.

"Simple your grace. My mother fufilled her role as my mother and prepared me for any and all dangers of the world. Whether at court or the field of battle, the sharpness of my tongue and wit or that of my blade shall always be ready" You dip again and walk off. Leaving the queen to reflect.

---

When you reach your apartments, Aegon is there, pacing. Upon seeing you he brightens but a cloud still hangs over his gaze.

"What troubles you Uncle?"

"Do you really have to leave? When this is all sorted. You could just as easily find a suitable lord husband here. Helaena and I would find you a good match." He plea seems almost child-like, and you find yourself wonder just how long this side of him had been hiding. Needing an escape. Something or someone to cling to. You smile and open your door, guesturing him inside.

"It is not so simple Egg. I already have an arrangement with two suitable lords from the riverlands"

"Two?!" He gasps "I need names. Now" he demands

"Houses Blackwood and Tully. I organised to spend some time with each of their houses heirs to determine a match... unfortunately my time with lord blackwood was cut short. I intend to write him a letter explaining things and that i shall soon return after things conclude here." You explain, sitting at your vanity to begin writing. You can feel him shift and stare at the back of your head. "I will be but a dragon flight away. The riverlands are but a couple of hours on dragonback." You say. Tying the letter and sealing it you put it on the foot of your corvid friend and have her set course for Raventree.

"I know. But we have only just started to rekindle family bonds and you are already trying to leave again." He whines, grabbing your hands tightly "The children are happy, more relaxed with you here. I dont think i have ever heard Helaena speak as much nor smile as much before your arrival. The place feels brighter and less stiflingly". Aegon fiddles with the braceletts on your wrist. The soft clinks soothing. "I read the letter your mother sent. You are to be her envoy while we sort out how we are to manage the ascension."

You nod. "Yes, she would ideally like to get it done as quick as possible. As to avoid making things to messy and confusing for the smallfolk. While they dont necessarily care to sits the throne, it would do well to have to period between switching leaders be short and swift."

"Then lets make the arrangements."

---

The following morning arrives with the flap of dragon wings and dragon roars. You watch as your family approaches the gates of the Red Keep. Your mother and siblings smile and rush toward you exchanging tearful hugs and affectionate greetings.

"My girl! You were treated well? They havent tried to harm you have they? I need all the details, no matter how small." Rheanyra worries, checking for any hidden scratch or scrape.

"You worry too much mother. I had everything in hand, Aunty and Uncle were more than accomodating. Turns out i am indeed their favourite." You reply smugly, returning the hugs and kisses

"Rheanyra" Aegon stiffly coughs from behind you. You turn and give a small cursty to him. He smiles warmly at you. "Jaehaera was asking for you (Name), something about... fables?" He questions

"Oh! Yes, i was telling her about some of the Valyrian ones in the library on dragonstone. I will go to her now." With one last kiss to your brother and mother, to dash off to find your young cousin.

The air is tense between the two sides and Aegon feels a sense of regret having sent you to his daughter. Finding himself alone and needing an ally.

"A crown doesnt seem to suit you." Rheanyra states cooly

"I never wanted it to." He says back "And i be glad to get rid of it." Rheanyra seems shocked at the response. Her intial thought had been that it was part of his ambition. Clearly she hadn't considered that he too had provably been put here, mere a cog in a grander machine. An once of regret seeps in for her inital tone, her shoulders relax and she speaks her next words with a mother's gentleness.

"Well let see what we can do about that."

Later in the throne room scores of people gather for the seat to pass from one royal to another. The grandmaester does the rites. Standing at the front of the room, you stand between the two factions of your family. Acting as it newly formed bridge.

"Prince Aegon the second Targaryen. Do you, under the oath of the 7, hereby swear away your right to throne, to never ascend its steps even in the event that the new ruler cannot?"

"Yes, i do." The measter nods and then turns to Rhaenyra.

"Princess Rheanyra Targaryen. Do you, under the oath of the 7 accept the duty of Queen of the andels, the rhoynar and the first men, ruler of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm?"

"I do."

"Then, with the gods and the people present as our witnesses, i hereby declare the princess Rheanyra, Queen Rheanyra Targaryen first of her name! All hail the Queen!"

Cheers erupt from the crowd as the crown of the conciliator is placed on Rheanyra's head. As she ascends the steps and sits on the iron throne she looks to you. Pride bursts on her face as she mouths a small 'thank you'. You shake your head and nod to Aegon and Helaena, who look more at ease then you have ever seen them. She nods, understanding your meaning.

---

With the ceremony concluded, you retire to you room. Despite all the work you have done, it is still not over. Daemon, has still been unresponsive to your mothers summons. According to her, he has cooped himself up in Harrenhal doing god know what.

"I will bring him here, kicking screaming if i have to" you remember telling her, clenching your fist around Seascale. "To not even be at your side when you most needed it... he does not know when to stop"

A knock on the door flings you to the present. "Come in!" You beckon. A shuffle of feet rush quickly to where you stand and had you not been bracing, you wouldve found yourself on the floor. "ACK!" You yelp comically. The twins laugh, now wrapped around your legs. "You two are a little too big to use my legs stilts!" You tease. They giggle again while nuzzling into your skirts.

"Is it true your leaving?" Jaehaera asks, big eyes staring up at you. You nod. "Why? Cant you stay with us? What will happen if we need you again like last time?" She whimpers.

You hear breaks for the two, clearly still distress and traumatised. You stroke both of their heads, giving big kisses. "Im only leaving to go and make sure something like this mever happens again. I promise to visit where ever you are. Thats what dragons are for." You smile.

"But i thought you were getting married soon?" Jaehaerys interrupts "what if your husband wont let you leave? Or he wont let us visit?"

"Then he will be an idiot to deny my family. And if he is an idiot i will divorce him and come straight back." You joke. Jaehaerys nods, reassured by your words. Your aunt and uncle watch the exchange with amusement. Looking at them you open your arms to them and they each take a side. "I am glad i managed to make things right between us... i was so worried the divide was too big..." you whispered to the adults.

"I for one, am glad you didnt give up." Helaena praises "this family is only formidable when we are three heads" she places a kiss on your brow before she ushers the children away. Aegon follws shortly, lingering at the doorway momentarily.

"If he is an idiot... come back to us and we will get you a proper husband... we will even make the last one look like an accident"

"EGG!" You howl, a laugh springing forth. "Neither of them are idiots, they would never deny me a thing. That i am sure. And i will visit, and write often."

"That is all we can hope for."

The door shuts with a soft click. Left with your own thoughts you stare at your room. This may be the last you see of it. Soon, you will choose Riverrun or Raventree. And with peace now hopefully secure, you will be able to pursue the life you mother wanted for you - one of happiness and if lifes pleasures.

There was only one thing left to do;

Confront Daemon.

---

Taglist: @tssf-imagines @accidentpronedork

[indigos-stardust]

Violet, Blue, And Bruised All Over: Long Talks

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6

Note: this has been in my draft for at least 2 weeks, hit a slump and then a hyperfixation couldn't write lol. so this is alot shorter and the drawings wont make as much sense without part like?? 6.5???... but I just wanted to post it cuz I felt bad

Reblogs and comments appreciated <3 I wanna hear y'all's thoughts >:3c

Red and Blue: a deep conversation filled with compassion and vulnerability:

Meanwhile Vio and Green:

(sorry I haven't updated this in a while, real life calls :')

The following days were hell. Red knew how much fights shredded his heart into a bajillion tiny pieces, but really the forced normalcy was so much worse!

The two had gotten an even bigger longer (and honestly ranty) lecture from Green the next day. Red didn't think it really helped much. Like sure they were cowed into NOT biting each other or whatever, but c'mon!

It felt like everyone was mad at everyone else! And even though technically no one was really mad at him, they were all mad at each other which- considering they were all sorta kinda not really the same person? It still felt that way!

Green had gotten really bossy and super serious, and Blue and Vio were just avoiding each other like the plague! Whenever they did come into "an unfortunate proximity" as Vio put it, there wasn't anything but a ton of silent hate! Red really just wanted to curl up into a little hole and die. Well not really! But like, emotionally! Just a bit!

Green kept pushing them to talk about the details, but neither one would talk. Red decided to try asking them one on one, you know, use his charm a bit and soften the edges- But even when he cried it didn't work! Him crying always worked! Especially when he said just the right words in just the right way to softly push them into making a realization.

Red wouldn't really call himself a manipulator in that sense, because hey! He was using his powers for good, right? At least most of the time, anyways. It was a useful way to get out of trouble and get things he wanted...

By why couldn't it work now when he needed it most!!

Vio just treated him like how a parent would to their kid when the kid just, well, asked about death or some hard grownup topic. Like Red just simply wouldn't understand and not to worry about it- But he was worrying! He knew Vio just didn't want him to be sad but still...

Then Blue- Well, Blue was just sad. And a little p*ssed. But it was clear he was just mostly sad. At least when he talked to Red anyways. At first he had been all huffy and insisted that it was all so stupid, so why even bring it up anyways? Because it was "over already!" Which, no that was super stupid of Blue to think, because obviously all their relationships were like super mega sad???

When Red expressed that sentiment though, it seemed to change something in Blue. Blue just closed up and got all quiet. He hated when Blue did that. But it also meant his plan was working. Blue may be a little, uhm, explosive to people and things when he got upset- But really if he was like actually really seriously upset? Then he got all quiet and intense all by himself. But Red knew how to pry all those layers off, even if it was just melting his way though each one of Blue's icy walls, one at a time.

Not even a day later of the guilt obviously devouring Blue inside out, and clearly losing against his ego. (Red knew that's what happened, he probably didn't want to be the "first one to show weakness" and just talk about how his feelings were hurt and acted like he was just all angry and didn't care, but Blue was a big softie and no amount of pouting was gonna change that in Red's eyes.)

They'd been walking to the training yards extremely early in the morning, the sun had barely peeked over the horizon really. In Red's opinion, going all the way to the castle to train in the big professional courtyard before the birds even woke up was probably some sort of crime against humanity. And him. But Red was so close to getting Blue to spill! SO he had to stick with Blue the whole time to make sure his plan would work. He just had to be consistent! Even if... it was at like... Red blearily squinted against the horizon. Five AM? Uegh.

Green was right about those too being similar. But it wasn't just cuz they were so stubborn. More like they were both weirdos that had a vendetta against sleep. Seriously, would it kill Blue to sleep in for five more minutes...

[im-just-a-boy-guys]

BIG WEREWOLF STEP BROTHER/ X /LITTLE FEM BUNNY STEP BROTHER/ 5k words.

Part 1 HERE!

( I hate using Y/N but it will be used at least once.) BIG BRO TEACHES LITTLE BROTHER HOW TO JERK OFF T DICK AND MAKES HIM INTO THE PERFECT TOY.

(STEPCEST/FTM/FEM FTM/ AFAB/ X CIS STEP BROTHER/ MANIPULATION/ R@PE/ FORCED INTOX/ PASSING READER AROUND BETWEEN HIS FRIENDS)

PT 2

We both laughed as we raced to the back porch, our mother was waiting on the porch swing, while our dad was cleaning the freshly used grill. We took a deep breath in through our noses and could smell the char of what he'd cooked. They both smiled softly as they watched us emerge from the trail and the trees. Mom called out

"Dinner's ready! you're home just in time I made burgers and fries!!"

_____________________ slight recap ^^^^ (Continuation vvvv)

I jumped into the air and practically skipped my way to the porch

"Awesome! I love burgers! If you have grilled chicken I'd be happy to take that off your hands too!"

She nodded and ruffled my hair.

"You know I do short stuff. Let me correct myself since your closer. your dad made the burgers, I made the chicken and fries."

She giggled and kissed Dad on the cheek, wrapping happily around his waist. She leaned against his back, she was so in love with him, and I found myself imagining me and Cameron in the same position. My cheeks flushed once again and my mom walked over to me, pressing her cold hands to my cheeks.

"Are you alright dear? Feels like you have a slight fevor."

I laughed nervously and stepped back.

"No I'm fine, was probobly all of that running huh?"

I could feel Cameron's eyes on me and saw him smirking out of the corner of my eye. I had heard about testosterone-increasing libido but was only now starting to understand it to the full extent.

We ate dinner and I meandered up to my room, closed and locked my door, and stripped. I couldn't stop thinking about the way his nose felt pressed up against my clit. I laid down on my bed, tucked one of the extra pillows between my legs, and began to grind against it desperately.

I could've grabbed my vibrator, but since my clit had grown in size due to the testosterone, it was just easier to rub and grind against anything. This made me feel like I was in heat, but that didn't happen for another week or two.

I could feel my clit throbbing as I reached back with my fingers, using the wetness from my aching hole to lubricate myself. I imagined my fingers were his wet nose pushing against my clit in just the right way to tease me. My finger's slipped back and my imagination danced into the feeling of his tongue now, padding over my whole pussy. It must be so big, I needed it inside of me.

I squeaked softly as I felt his big paws grip around my thighs, he must've been watching me, but I didn't hear him come in. his nose was pressed right up against my whole, covering his maw in my wetness. I moaned out a little loudly and he gripped my face harshly.

"Shh- be quiet sweet boy. dont want Mom and Dad hearing now do we?"

He cooed deeply into my ear and my form shifted into the smaller, desperate bunny I wanted to be for him. I could feel him already shifted, his throbbing cock resting against my thigh as he investigated my dripping cunt. I wiggled back desperately against his face, panting needily. He gently played with my clit using one of his claws.

"You're on T huh? Your clit got really big- Now its like you have a cute little dick for me to playwith-"

He flipped me onto my back and slipped his shirt off, tucking it under me quickly before leaning down between my legs. Cameron guided my paws down to either side of my T-dick and began to help me rub myself. I was already salivating at the sensation, but with his paws guiding me, it felt even closer to heaven.

"That's right baby, just Keep on rubbing- such a good boy. I'm going to show you what a real man feels like, yeah?"

Cameron aligned himself with my hole, his tip barely fitting in as he pushed. I whimpered, but he kept his paw tightly over my mouth to muffle the noise, holding his weight up on his other arm that rested just above my shoulder. He pushed into me roughly, his tip felt big enough to rip me open. I practically screamed into his paw and started eagerly grinding against his tip.

"Good boy, see how good that feels to Jerk off your cute little dick for me?"

This was even more amazing than anything I could've imagined, he was so big and I wasn't sure I could take him. He began to gently and slowly thrust his hips, his arm keeping me in place as he moved.

Cameron gradually kept pushing more and more into me until I was stretched all the way around his cock, taking him almost to the knot. I felt his pointed tip tickling my cervix, drooling against his paw as my eyes rolled back into my head. He grunted and panted, his thrusts becoming more sloppy as he picked up speed. His gruff voice sounded strained as he looked down at me.

"Think you could keep quiet if i moved my paw, bunny?"

I nodded and bit my lip softly, he removed his paw and placed it above my other shoulder. Now that he had proper leverage, he sank his claws into my mattress and slammed his hips aggressively into my pussy, his knot threatening entry.

I carefully moved my legs to his shoulders, the best I could reach, letting my brother fold me in half almost. I needed his knot badly, I wanted to be full of his cum. Cameron smirked down at me, bearing his teeth, and laughed mockingly.

"Yeah? Do you want my knot that bad, sweet boy?"

"Mhm!"

I whined though I tried to keep quiet. He grunted and rammed his hips into me a few times, hitting a few of my sweet spots and my body spasmed as I squirted over his cock and thighs, this allowed him enough lubrication for him to force his knot inside of me, locking me in place as he pumped me full of his thick, hot, sticky cum.

Before I could even process how full I was, he pulled his Knot out of me, covering my mouth with his paw again. This was good because I screamed into it.

He slinked down my body, his head between my legs once again, and pushed his nose against my clit. I moaned softly into the wetness, then gasped as I felt his warm tongue wrapping around my sensitive T-dick. My hips bucked and I tried to squirm out of his grasp, I felt far too sensitive to properly get off, but Cameron didn't seem to care much.

"Cameron!!"

I moaned into his hand. as I tried to push him off of me. He used his free arm to hold me down by my chest.

"Ah- ah- Ah- Stay still for me, pretty boy, I've been wanting to taste you since you got here- and you're going to let me-"

I nodded and tried to keep my squirming to a minimum. He teased me for what felt like hours, and it drove me insane, I must've squirted 5 times.

Once he was done with me, he sat up on his knees, smiling and whining off his face. He looked so handsome in the moonlight as it shined off his beautiful skin. I was so in love with how handsome he was. Cameron leaned down and licked my cheek.

" Alright, bun. Get cleaned up - I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow, yeah?"

He chuckled and snuck out of my bedroom. For the next couple of weeks, he left me deprived. No secret late-night visits, no sneaky touches, just brotherly love.

I wanted him to touch me so desperately. I'd go into my room, leaving the door cracked while I touched myself in my panties, and when he passed by, he didn't even stop to look, not even so much as a sideways glance. What did I do? Was my squirting gross? Was I gross? Mas my clit to big and embarrassing? I hated myself so much. I could barely live without his attention.

One night, Mom and Dad had left to go out to dinner and had texted the family group chat that they were staying at a hotel.

'Lucky.'

I thought to myself. I was so frustrated, emotionally and otherwise. I laid down on the couch and watched a movie, sulking in my own loneliness.

I heard noises and shouting coming from outside and sat up to investigate, seeing my brother and his friends, Liam, Chance, and Calin walk through the door. I was pretty sure Liam, a scruffy looking blonde, was a tiger hybrid, and Calin was a dear or goat hybrid. I couldn't remember the other friend was, though. They wrestled their way in and laughed with eachother.

"Hey (y/n) !"

Cameron laughed and waved at me. He smiled, not even a Sparky smirk or his fangs showing in the way they used to. My gut sank.

"Hey..."

I mumbled and lay down, returning to my movie. He ushered his friends up the stairs and turned to look at me. Nothing special in his eyes.

"Hey, me and my friends are going to smoke in my room, if Mom or Dad come home text me SOS."

"No problem."

I replied, forcing a soft smile. When he disappeared, I sighed and wept softly into the throw pillow beneath my head. I covered up with a blanket and fell asleep eventually. I woke up later to soft whispers but kept my eyes closed as I tried to process if it was a dream or not.

"Shh. Be quiet or you'll wake him up, stupid."

Cameron? What's he doing downstairs?

"Him? But she's got tits-"

A loud thud sounded as Chance was cut off.

"OUCH! Shit- what the fuck-"

"He's more of a man than you are. His dick is bigger."

Cameron laughed and stroked my head softly, I couldn't help but lean into his hand. I hoped he was smiling at me. Calin sounded confused.

"A dick? How-"

"When you take testosterone, it could make a person's clit bigger. So they end up having a little trans dick and it's super cute to play with. It's just as sensitive as any other dick. I've seen it in porn."

He's never sounded more stupid.

"So when do we get to touch 'him' ?"

"Woah. Calm down there, R Kelly. Exited rapist much? Give it a minute."

Touch me? What?

Cameron gently shook me 'awake'. I sat up and mumbled softly,

" What- is it- are Mom and Dad home?"

"Haha. No. Just wanted to see if you wanted to learn how to smoke with us, I'd rather you do it in a safe space. Plus, with us around, you'll have - Loads of fun -"

"Oh sure, I guess."

I gently folded up the blanket to the side, having fallen asleep in my soft, red panties and a black band tee shirt. To hide my underwear at least a little, I sat with my legs folded to the side.

"Here, you sit in the middle, and you can take the first hit. I'll show you how it's done."

Cameron lit the joint and put the filter to my lips. His hands were so big and his fingers were right against my lips.

"Suck in softly only for a second. Like a straw. Inhale, exhale. You can breathe it in when you get better at smoking, but he'll. That's how I smoke anyway. It's easier to manage."

I did as he said and pondered the taste and smell. It was better than a cigarette smell, so there was that. I was attacked a little by a soft bunch of coughs. He put on a movie while I was taking the hit and the "Pineapple Express' began to play. The other boys guys laughed at me softly, but I didn't take it personally. It seemed silly to be taking my first hit of something around people who must practically breathe the stuff.

"Right, so we pass it back and forth, up and down the line. I'll sit next to you and I'll have my arm behind you in case you don't feel good, alright?"

I nodded and passed the joint to him, watching as he inhaled, leaned his head back, and blew the smoke out. His neck stretched and his collar bones flexed softly in his v-neck tee shirt. It was the most delicious thing I'd ever seen of him, and I was starved of his affections.

He spotted me staring and smiled down at me with a soft smirk that made my heart pound. I looked down shyly, and my face covered itself in red. Most of them softly melded into their animal forms as we passed the joint back and forth. I hadn't paid attention to how many they'd lit if more than one.

I felt my ears extend and my tail wiggle softly as I slipped into a colorful daze, barely being able to pick up on any conversation that was had, leaning against Cameron and resting my legs across Liam. He didn't seem to be paying me any attention but rubbed my thigh gently as my brother held me, one arm around me. I mumbled softly.

"I'm very thirsty..."

I hid my face behind my ears, embarrassed of my needs. Cameron laughed, and I peeked through my ears, seeing his hooded eyes, the dark circles backed by a soft red that clouded the whites of his glassy eyes.

"Calin, grab him a ice water please?"

The blonde smiled and gave a playful two finger solute, disappearing into the kitchen.

"I cant..really move or hold- myself up-"

I tried to sit up, preparing for my water, but found quickly that this was very true and I was immobile. Cameron picked me up and sat me in his lap. I was happy with this initially, pleased with the idea of him helping me, and his crotch being right up against my dripping hole. When I felt Liam's strong hands on my thighs and my brother's even stronger arms around my body, I was in a soft trance of imagining disgusting things.

Cameron gently lifted my legs, putting them on the outsides of his, and held my legs open, exposing my panties and the small wet patch that had accumulated. I tried to squirm but was granted no such freedom as his hands began to roam all over my sensitive body. I leaned my head back against his shoulder and gasped softly, unable to contain myself.

I shrank fully into my bunny form and I could see them around me taking their full forms as well. Calin walked into the room and my brother took the glass into his hand and held my face with the other. He opened my mouth and poured the water in carefully before setting it to the side.

"You just let me know if you need any more water, alright? But take it slow. Liam. You've been polite, you get first dibs."

The dear man walked over quietly. He seemed reserved but just as big and strong as my brother's other friends. I watched him as he slipped out of his basketball shorts and revealed his throbbing cock.

"Open your mouth sweet boy-"

Cameron cooed in my ear but I clenched my mouth shut, hesitating. He gripped my face, forcing my jaw open.

"That wasn't a request, Doll. Now stick your tongue out and be good."

I did just that and looked up at Liam, watching him step closer and tease himself by gently rubbing his tip all over my tongue.

His moans were so soft and addicting, I almost came without even being touched. I loved how much I was getting him off, I could already taste his cum.

I was able to regain a little of my movement, gently grinding back against my brother's cock that I could feel hardening beneath me in his jeans.

I pushed my head forward lightly, Cameron helping hold my throat so I could please his friend's property. chance and Calin stood next to me on either side, jerking themselves off, occasionally pressing their tips to my cheeks, commenting on how soft they were.

Once I gained slight control of my limbs I reached out for them and the two boys helped guide my hands to stroke them. I could feel the throbbing veins against my paws, smiling dumbly and I let my eyes glaze over.

My mouth closed softly around Liam's cock as he began to gently thrust against my tongue, the dear boy panted softly as he rested his hands on my head, gripping my hair softly.

My brother grabbed my hip with one hand and breathed into my ear, grinding against me like he needed me. And god had I missed that. He fought to get his pants off and ripped my panties open, careful not to disturb my progress with his friends while he shoved his warm, thick dick into my dripping cunt.

I moaned out around Liam's length and moved my tongue against him, he whimpered softly and gasped. His cock pulled a couple of times, was he close already? I wanted to feel his cum fill my throat so badly.

Cameron no longer needed to hold me up as I had sobered up slightly, and held both of my hips in his giant hands. He thrusted into me roughly, the tip pushing against my cervix most perfectly. As he moved he moaned out.

"God I've missed you! Fuck I've been trying to hold off but you be been teasing me- and now we get to have our way with you.. Like the slut we know you are- isn't that right, baby brother?"

I drooled around Liam as he spoke, taking more and more of his length into my throat and smiling as best I could with my mouth full.

"Mhm!!!"

I moaned out and Liam groaned loudly, gripping my hair and plunging himself into my throat. His hot cum poured into my stomach as I swallowed happily. He pulled out of my mouth and fell back onto the floor, panting softly. I coughed softly and smiled dumbly.

Calin stepped in front of me, his dick was even bigger than Liam's, and I was eager to taste, immediately looking up at him with doe eyes and opening my mouth.

He groaned and dug his claws into my head, thrusting roughly all the way into my throat, causing me to gag and sputter around him, it was one of the best feelings ever, being used like this. I used both of my hands to rub Chance off, and he moaned lewdly, fucking into my paw pads. Soon, he came on my cheeks and sat down on the corner of the couch, waiting for his turn with my mouth.

Cameron continued to fuck himself silly into me, he came in me multiple times, using the last load to lubricate the both of us for the rest. He bit into my neck and licked all over me, anything he could do to bury my scent into his sinus and feel as close to me as possible.

I continued to moan over Calin as he used my throat, fast and rough. I could feel his claws against the base of my skull as he used me like a flashlight. I tried to move my tongue around him, having a rough time keeping my jaw from locking. Soon he pushed his cock into the back of my throat and pulled out to his tip, softly fucking my lips as he came harshly into my mouth.

"Like a straw pretty boy- suck"

He growled down at me. And I was happy to oblige, moving both of my hands to treat him, one on his knot and the other on his shaft, helping milk him into my mouth. I swallowed happily and blushed as he pulled out and laughed.

"Damnit, he's good."

My brother laughed deeply and wrapped both of his arms around my waist, rapidly moving his hips against me, my legs gently kicking with pleasure as I squirted over him.

"Fuckk! Fuck fuck!!!"

I screamed out loudly as I happily rode out my orgasm on his knot. He sighed happily, and I climbed off of him gingerly, making my way to change on the floor.

I took his cock into my hands, smiling as I took his tip into my mouth. He was the only one who hadn't let himself transform yet, melting into his Lion form, his ruff growing large and fluffy, his knot filling with arousal as he watched me. He pet my head gently as I pleased him, bobbing my head up and down as I massaged his knot and length.

I felt something warm and wet against my clit and a warm set of arms wrap around my thighs, looked down and saw Liam, looking up at me with his soft eyes as he sucked on my Tdick, pushing his head against me and bobbing his head just like I was.

I pushed my hips into his affections and worked extra hard to please Chance, looking up at him with big eyes, hoping he would take advantage of my mouth the way his friend had.

He obliged and gripped my hair, moving his hips against my mouth as he thrusted into my throat, it almost felt like he was fucking my brain, and my eyes rolled back into my head.

During my brain-dead, fuzzy blur, I felt myself squirt a few times into Liam's mouth, but he kept going pleasantly.

He moaned quietly against my pussy, his tongue traveling down to my cum filled entrance occasionally.

I could feel Chances dick pulsing against the walls of my throat and quickly following a burst of cum flooded my esophagus. This time, I wasn't as prepared and struggled to get off of him as he milked his cock into my face.

"Mm!! Mn!!!"

I struggled, and he finally let me up, I choked and sputtered for a moment and tried to swallow what I could. Liam checked on me and Chance laughed softly.

"Sorry, sweetheart. You alright? I got carried away- you just felt so fuckin' good-"

I smiled dazedly and leaned against Liam. He handed me to my brother, and Cameron cradled me softly in his arms and carried me up, putting me in a hot bath. The water was so warm that I almost fell asleep, but I tried to clean myself as best I could.

I was just happy other animals couldn't properly mate without measures being taken to try and force it. I relaxed back against the walls and heard moving downstairs. I assumed they were cleaning up but didn't pay it much mind.

I daydreamed of all of their different affections and how sweet they all tasted and were in their own ways, fawning over them all, but especially my brother. The way he was laying, cum covered, and the way his body was shaped drove me crazy, and it always would.

[elysiaheaven]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝?-𝟓 -(The Fox's Wedding)

Words:2062

His mind was a storm of conflicting emotions—frustration, guilt, fear—but the one constant was the overwhelming sense of dread that you, his new wife, had brought into his life. He didn't even know if "wife" was the right word, but the bond was there, undeniable and suffocating.

"Why did I marry you?" he whispered to himself, staring at his reflection in the bowl. The question had haunted him since that moment in the abandoned part of Luofu, and even more so now.

Saving Moze had been part of it, yes. He couldn't let his friend die. But there was more. Something darker, deeper. A part of him that had made the decision to bind himself to you. A part of him that knew it wasn't just about saving Moze.

Jiaoqiu stared at you, his red eyes glowing faintly in the dim light of the room. You looked so peaceful, so unlike the mischievous, haunting creature that had tormented him just earlier. For a brief moment, he wondered if this was what you had been like before everything went wrong—before the curse, the blood, and the betrayal. But he shook the thought away. You were dangerous. He couldn't afford to soften toward you.

He sat down at the small wooden table, the chair creaking under his weight. The food in front of him looked bland, but he didn't care. He wasn't hungry. His mind was elsewhere.

Jiaoqiu walked over to the table, his footsteps slow and heavy, his mind swirled with guilt and unresolved emotions. He glanced back at you, sprawled on the sofa, sleeping peacefully as if nothing was wrong. You looked almost innocent in that moment, your red wine kimono draping elegantly over your body, your face serene.

But he knew better.

Sitting down, he began to eat alone, the sound of the utensils clinking against the plate echoing in the quiet room. His red eyes flickered with conflicted thoughts He had a deeper reason, one that he couldn't admit out loud, not even to himself.

His gaze drifted back to you, your chest rising and falling in slow breaths, your face so peaceful. He muttered under his breath, his hands tightening around the utensils. "I married you..because to save Feixiao."

The weight of his words hung in the air, thick and suffocating.

You didn't deserve kindness, he reminded himself. After all, you were the spirit who had wreaked havoc on the lives of many. You were dangerous, manipulative. You had helped enslave people. He thought back to the legends and how you had betrayed the Foxian clan. That's why you deserved this.

Yet, there was a darker, more personal reason that made his stomach twist. He wanted your soul—no, he needed it. , but for someone else. Someone who mattered to him more than anything else. He promised this person, he would cure her diseases…

Jiaoqiu clenched his jaw. He hated you. He wanted to kill you with his own hands, to end this twisted game once and for all. But he couldn't. Not until the right time. Not until he got what he wanted from you.

For now, he had to play along, keep you close. But every time he looked at you, sleeping so soundly, it reminded him of the growing darkness inside of him, the heavy burden he carried.

With a sigh, he pushed his plate aside, unable to eat any more. His eyes, filled with cold resolve, returned to you.

"Your soul will atleast give that person a chance to do good things," he whispered, his voice barely audible in the quiet room. "And I'll make sure they get it… no matter what it costs."

The next morning, you wake up and immediately feel something different. Your legs—there was a sensation, a tingling, and you instinctively tried to stand. Slowly, you moved your feet off the sofa, pressing them against the floor, testing your balance. The moment you pushed up to stand, though, your legs gave way, and you stumbled forward, collapsing onto the floor.

The sound of your fall echoed through the house. Jiaoqiu rushed down the stairs, his red eyes wide with concern. "What happened?" he asked, his voice strained.

You lifted your gaze to him, a twisted smile forming on your lips despite the pain of your fall. "I can walk now… it means I'm getting closer. Day by day, I'll become human. Soon enough, I'll haunt you even more."

Jiaoqiu paused for a second, the tension in his expression softening slightly as he sighed, though there was still that haunted look in his eyes. Without a word, he bent down and, to your surprise, scooped you up into his arms.

His touch was careful, almost tender, as he carried you back toward the center of the room. "If you're going to walk," he murmured, "you might as well do it right."

You raised a brow, confused at first, until he shifted his hold, placing you gently on the ground. His hands didn't leave your body, though. Instead, he positioned himself behind you, his arms wrapped securely around your waist. Then, without saying anything else, he moved your feet onto his own.

"What… what are you doing?" you asked, your voice half curious, half mocking.

"We're going to practice," Jiaoqiu said quietly. "If you want to walk, you'll do it with me."

The warmth of his body pressed against yours sent a shiver down your spine, and the strange mix of emotions confused you. His touch wasn't the cold, distant one you expected, but something softer, something that made your heart pound a little faster. He held you firmly but with an odd gentleness, guiding you as he began to step forward.

Each time he moved, you moved with him. Slowly, awkwardly at first, but as he led you across the room, it became easier. The rhythm between you two was strange yet strangely intimate.

"See?" he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. "It's not so hard when you're not trying to do everything alone."

You could feel the tension in his arms, the same man who said he hated you, who wanted you dead, now carefully guiding your steps, teaching you how to walk. You found yourself laughing quietly, though it wasn't the sinister laugh you usually offered.

"This is almost romantic," you teased, your voice low.

Jiaoqiu didn't respond. He only kept moving, his grip never faltering. You leaned back slightly, letting his strength support you as you continued to walk together, your feet following his in a quiet, synchronized dance.

You continued to move with Jiaoqiu, his arms steady around you, a question formed on your lips, gnawing at the edge of your mind. "Why are you helping me?" you asked softly, glancing back at him over your shoulder. "After everything, why bother?"

He sighed, his grip on your waist tightening just slightly as he spoke. "Because I'm a healer," he muttered, almost as if the words themselves pained him. "Even if someone's a bad person, if they're hurt, I help. It's just what I do."

You turned your head fully now, facing him with a look that was half confusion, half something else—something curious, maybe even a little vulnerable. "But I don't just need healing. I need affection. Moments like this… they help me become human."

His gaze hardened for a brief second, then softened again as he looked away. The silence between you two hung heavy for a moment before, out of nowhere, he pulled you closer, his lips unexpectedly pressing against yours. The kiss was brief but intense, sending a shockwave of confusion and something more through you.

You pulled back quickly, your face flushing with a rare embarrassment. "What… what are you doing?" you stammered, your usual smugness cracking slightly.

Jiaoqiu didn't meet your eyes as he adjusted his grip on you, still holding you close but with a sense of distance now. "I just want you to leave me alone as soon as you become human," he said, his voice clipped, almost cold. "If kissing you helps that happen faster, then so be it."

But there was something about the way he said it, something that didn't quite add up. You could feel it in the way his hands trembled just slightly, the way he refused to meet your gaze directly.

You frowned, sensing there was more to his actions than he let on. "Is that all there is to it?" you asked, your voice dipping into something more cautious, more knowing.

He didn't answer immediately. His face remained neutral, but deep down, you could feel a crack in the armor he kept so carefully in place. Of course, he wouldn't tell you the real reason—not yet. You were still valuable to him, and you both knew it. Becoming human would make your soul easier to take, easier to control. But he wouldn't tell you that, not now.

Instead, Jiaoqiu merely held you in silence, resuming the slow steps across the room, as if trying to brush off the significance of the moment. His heart, though steady, was beating just a bit faster than before, and you could feel the conflict within him.

And for the first time, you wondered… was there something else hiding behind his cold demeanor? Something more than just a desire to rid himself of you?

Jiaoqiu let out a small, tired sigh as he loosened his hold on you. "I work as a military healer," he said, his voice firm but distant. His eyes held a flicker of something else—a past weight, perhaps, or just the exhaustion of bearing so much.

You gave a soft, almost teasing giggle, trying to lighten the mood. "You must heal everyone with just your presence, then," you joked, though your words were more than just playful; they carried a subtle admiration you didn't quite realize.

He gave you a brief look, almost smiling, but quickly reverted to his usual seriousness. "I'm going out for a bit. I need to pick up a package," he said, his tone making it clear he had something important to attend to. Without waiting for your response, he turned and left, leaving you alone in the quiet room.

The silence echoed around you. You tried to stand up, to continue practicing your slow steps. But as soon as you rose, your legs gave way, and you collapsed onto the floor. Gritting your teeth, you pushed yourself up, determined not to let this body betray you.

Limping over to a nearby mirror, you hesitated for a moment before looking into it. What you saw made your blood run cold.

Instead of your humanizing form, a rotting corpse stared back at you, its eyes hollow, its skin peeling and decayed. You screamed—a raw, terrified sound that filled the room, shattering every mirror in the vicinity. Glass cracked and shattered into pieces, reflecting the horror in your mind.

Panicking, you stumbled out of the room, trying to escape the image of yourself. Your limbs felt weak and foreign as you limped toward the riverbank outside, your body trembling from the sheer terror of what you'd seen. Without thinking, you tripped over the edge and fell into the water, your breath catching as the cold river swallowed you whole.

The water chilled you to the bone, but as you resurfaced, gasping for air, you felt a small hand grab your arm, pulling you up. You sputtered and coughed, disoriented, only to find yourself staring into the large, curious eyes of a small dragon girl.

It was Bailu.

She blinked at you, her expression a mix of confusion and surprise. "What… what happened to you?" she asked, her voice high and soft, but her grip on your arm was strong.

You could barely speak, your body trembling from both the cold and the shock of what you'd seen. You tried to catch your breath, but all you could think about was that horrifying image in the mirror. "I-I saw… something…" you stammered, your words weak and shaky.

Bailu's eyes narrowed slightly, and she helped you up, dragging you out of the water. "You're a mess," she muttered, though her voice held a hint of concern. "Let's get you back on your feet. Jiaoqiu's not going to be happy seeing you like this."

[airyairyaucontraire]

"What's this world coming to? It's the second time in two days I've been treated like a kid!"

STEVEN SPELBERG BOY GENIUS YOU ARE BREAKING MY HEART

he says this as Columbo is leaving the room after asking him to babysit his dog while he investigates

Columbo's leaving and Steve (I shall use Steve when I'm not being hyperbolic as it's what he tells Columbo he prefers to be called) is desperately reaching out for even a minute's more interaction with a person who talked to him kindly and treated him like a kid as well as respecting his intelligence and admiring his robot, making a joke about being treated in an age-appropriate manner like that's wacky

the other time he was treated like a kid? was when Jose Ferrer arranged for him to go to a movie as part of creating his alibi for the murder of the week (to silence a colleague with integrity who planned to expose the plagiarism of his son, Charlie X from Star Trek)

he only got to go do a fun entertaining thing (see a frankly weird-sounding movie called "The Loves of Frankenstein") because a prospective murderer was orchestrating an alibi

what's more, it's a movie Steve thought he couldn't see, because it was R-rated so he needed a parent or guardian to accompany him

THERE IS NO ONE WHO CAN BE EXPECTED TO ACCOMPANY BOY GENIUS STEVEN SPELBERG IF HE NEEDS A PARENT OR GUARDIAN

the parent or guardian provided for him? a mechanic from the cybernetics institute motor pool! they literally sent him to the movies with a random middle-aged man

WHO IS RAISING BOY GENIUS STEVEN SPELBERG

I AM CONCERNED ABOUT THE EMOTIONAL WELL-BEING OF BOY GENIUS STEVEN SPELBERG

you can't just speedrun this shit with an all-night encounter group therapy marathon!

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

Instead of going for Tim, Jason goes for the easiest way to utterly destroy his Replacement and kidnaps his civilian boyfriend to demonstrate just how easy it is to lose something (or someone) you love in this line of work.

And while the whole “make the Replacement beg” part of the plan is going amazing…. Jason really didn’t plan the whole “keeping a conspiracy theorist teenager hostage” through to the end.

Bernard just wants to know what the new crime lord’s deal with Robin is. And why— and how— exactly he’s supposed to be a bargaining chip when he can count the times he met Robin on one hand. oh! and could someone maybe tell his boyfriend, Tim, that he’ll be late for their coffee date on Tuesday?