#and nothing will take me out further because who the fuck wants an employee who has to travel halfway across the fucking state every shift

[dilfl0v3rss]

quiet!choso

quiet!choso who has no problem being out by himself, but refuses to talk in any other way than a hushed tone in public. only using his regular voice at home or with family, but he still barely spoke in full sentences.

quiet!choso always looks to you to order for him. voice too deep and quiet for waiters and drive threw workers to hear him so he always just lets you do it.

“i’ll take the number five with fruit punch as the drink pleaseee.” you chirped into the receiver. pretty skirt riding up your thighs as you leaned halfway over the center console to order your food.

“okay! anything else?” the employee asked. you looked at choso, who stared deep in thought at the menu before moving his lips towards your ear. “same thing…please” you smiled at how soft spoken he was, giving him a quick peck on the cheek for his cuteness before giving the woman his order.

quiet!choso who not only speaks quietly, but moves in silence as well. there has been too many times where your soul has left your body because this man has come home from work without making a sound. just quietly changing his clothes before sitting on the couch to watch his shows.

you were in the main bathroom, just getting done with some cleaning. your earphones were playing sza softly in your ears as you hummed along to her voice. as you walked from the toilet to the shower, you glanced out the door and your heart dropped to your ass. there was a man on your couch, hood on his head as he sat comfortably watching tv. you covered your mouth from the scream that you wanted to release before quietly reaching for your phone to call your boyfriend.

since you hid in the tub, you missed the part where choso pulled his phone from his pocket, giving it a confused look before answering it. ‘why is she calling me if i’m home?’ he thought as he quietly spoke to you through the receiver. “hello?” he instantly grew worried at your shaky breaths, quietly getting up from the couch before slowly walking to where he saw you cleaning. “t-there’s a man in the house”

choso stopped in his tracks, turning around before looked around the empty living room and kitchen. “where?” he said softly walking towards the small black pistol he kept deep in the cushion of his recliner. he slowly pulled the weapon out, being as quiet as possible before walking towards your bedroom to further his inspection. “h-he in the living room. got a black hoodie on with his hood up. looks pretty big too.” choso took a deep breath, rolling his eyes as he realized his mistake. you always told him to let you know when he’s home if he doesn’t see you when he walks in the door, but of course he forgot. “mama that’s me. i’m home from work” before he could say anything else you hung up, standing up from the tub before walking out into the living room with your arms crossed.

“choso bring your ass over here right now boy!”

quiet!choso who even though is seen as an antisocial guy, goes out with you to parties and get togethers. always giving you the same quiet speech about how “a man doesn’t need a voice to keep his woman safe”.

quiet!choso who doesn’t really care what people think of him, letting his brothers and friends call him all types of names without getting irritated in the slightest.

“she already do the talking so i’m guessing she be doing to fucking too” his middle brother sukuna said with a chuckle. choso, yuji, and sukuna agreed to have “bro bonding” (clearly yuji made the name) every other weekend to “keep their relationship strong”. this time it was being held at sukuna’s cave house where the three of them ate takeout and played on the game. “kuna leave em aloneee. there’s nothing wrong with letting your woman have control” his youngest brother said, large hand outstretched on choso’s back as he gave it a small rub.

“man cut the bullshit. even yuji don’t let bitches do that shit. you should hear the sounds that be comin outta my guest room when he crashes here wit a some random broad from a party.” yuji covered his face in embarrassment, making his older brothers chuckle. choso felt if he were to tell anyone how life was at home, it would be the two knuckleheads he was raised with. a small smirk planted on his face, tattooed hands gripping his controller a little tighter as he spoke.

“if my girl ‘ran’ me, don’t you think she’d be doing whatever she wanted? when we go out, why do you think she rather sit by me than go shake her ass with her friends like she usually used t’do?” sukuna and yuji’s eyes widened, giving choso a shocked look before the two of them looked at each other.

quiet!choso who doesn’t need to talk for you to know what he’s trying to say. settling for stern looks and a tap on your thigh, ass if nobody’s looking, as a warning to get you to act right.

quiet!choso who sometimes had to use rougher tactics to correct you when you’re out of line.

“say it again” choso groaned, long girthy dick rearranging your guts as he held you up by your hair. “i w–won’t cuss at daddy” you moaned, back grazing his broad tattooed chest. wrists bound together by fuzzy grey cuffs as you dug your nails into your palms. you were so frustrated earlier that you may have let a couple curse words slip into your vocabulary while texting choso, but regardless of your instant apology, he told you to be stripped and ready for him in the bed by the time he got home from work. now you were paying for your disrespect through taking all 8.5 inches of him without complaint.

“say it louder mama. daddy can’t hear you clearly through all that moaning” choso chuckled as he listened to you whine, pretty breasts bouncing with every thrust as you tried to speak clearly for the fifth time tonight. “i won’t c-cuss at daddy ever again! fuck m’gonna cummm” he rolled his eyes, pace never faltering as he fucked you through your third orgasm of the night. choso’s inked hand abruptly let go of your hair, making a chuckle slip as he watched you fall to the bed with a huff, hands not able to stop you.

“now you cursing right at me. gon be here all night if you don’t clean it up princess”

[hotluncheddie]

stop being a goblin and let me kiss you

part 1

˚✧₊⁎ ⁎⁺˳✧༚ ⁎⁺˳✧༚

eddie’s at the diner with steve and robin, after loitering in the store for a couple hours till they could lock up and hang out. he used to go and pretend to look for something to rent but that went away after steve offered to just rent whatever he wanted with their employee discount because quote, ‘then we can just all watch together!’ robin may have clocked him for coming in to ogle steve but eddie likes to ignore that part. so they’re at the diner and it’s a super fun wholesome time had all round, sharing fries and talking about dumb shit.

eddie was sitting across from steve who had ordered a strawberry milkshake like the god damn stereotype he was and eddie was very subtly taking in the view that was steve scooping his whipped cream up using the cherry on top. while also holding the conversation just fine thanks, no drool or little floating hears around his head, no no, just commentary on the state of this diners hash brows compared to one he vaguely remembered having in the spring of 75.

steve eventually stopped with the cream, putting the cherry in his mouth and eddie thought he was scott free from any further torment until steve took the stem out, having tied it in a knot in about three second flat. like it was nothing, like it was easy, simple, a day to day steve harrington move. which eddie supposed it kind of could be considering the guys reputation. but still. fuck!

then like a demon, steve fucking winks at him. fully just sending eddie into orbit. choking on his soda like an idiot.

he’s beet red and he knows it. robin seems none the wiser waxing lyrical about mint chocolate ice cream but eddie honestly thinks she might just be throwing him and bone. gay solidarity or whatever. steve however, must know nothing of gay solidarity because if he did he would not be so homosexual in front of eddies desperate, filthy, virgin eyes.

eddie excuses himself to the bathroom, being his own saving grace for once. just needing a little break from stupid steve and his stupid skilled tongue. definitely ignoring robin slapping steve on the arm and his mirth filled ‘what? what? he liked it bobbie!’

˚✧₊⁎ ⁎⁺˳✧༚ ⁎⁺˳✧༚

part 2 (steve) part 3 (eddie) part 4 (steve) part 5 (eddie) part 6 (steve) part 7 (eddie)

[scoops-aboy86]

Last Party of the Summer

Prompt Used: Pool party (@thehairandthebanished) and make-up sex (@steddiesmuttyseptember) | Last Party of the Summer | Rating: E | CW: hurt comfort, weight gain, body image issues, mildly intoxicated sex | Additional Tags: chubby Steve Harrington, miscommunication, breakup to makeup, makeup sex

also on Ao3

It’s hard to keep tabs on someone at a crowded pool party without being obvious about it, especially while working at getting drunk. But Steve, pausing to shotgun another beer, thinks he’s doing pretty good all things considered. He’s not glaring literal holes through Ed— through Munson’s stupid leather jacket, at least, so he can’t be that obvious. Even Tommy hasn’t commented on it, and Tommy isn’t one to notice things and not run his mouth, so there you go. 

He’s not being obvious at all. 

Then, out of nowhere, Eddie emerges from the crowd and uses a firm grip on his upper arm to propel him from the side of the pool back inside the house. Steve hadn’t even realized he’d lost track of the guy among their peers, which only adds to the unreal feeling of being frogmarched up the stairs and into his bedroom, ringed fingers burning like a brand through the sleeve of his t-shirt. 

“Alright,” Eddie snarls after kicking the door shut behind them. “You are the one who ended things, so what’s your fucking problem, Harrington? Mad that the riff raff got in to supply this dumb shindig with party favors?”

Indignance kick-starts Steve into scowling and yanking his arm away, crossing them across his chest. (But also, hearing his last name roll off Eddie’s tongue when just a few weeks ago he’d been ‘Stevie,’ ‘baby,’ ‘sweetheart’ makes something twist painfully in his chest.) “Watch what you’re calling dumb, Munson. You’re the one who snuck in uninvited.”

“It’s called working. It’s what some of us have to do when we don’t have daddy’s money to fall back on!”

The words make Steve take a sharp step back, because Eddie knows his parents throw money at him as though it’ll make up for never being around, never paying much attention to him unless there’s something to scold him for. How he’s gotten checks in the mail after making the winning shot or run or lap in an important match or getting a good grade on a big test, but they’re never there to actually see any of it; how he feels more like an employee or an investment than a son. 

And maybe it’s because he’s toeing the line of drunk, but his eyes sting. A little. 

“That’s a low fucking blow, freak,” Steve sneers, blinking hard. His crossed arms tighten further over his chest like he’s trying to keep something from breaking out, and he doesn’t care about the way Eddie’s face twitches. He doesn’t! “But I guess that’s par for the course with you, isn’t it? Never pull a single fucking punch.”

“I’ve pulled plenty,” Eddie sneers right back. 

Which is. Oh. That’s worse. 

“Why can’t you just leave me alone, huh?” And Steve can hear his voice going humiliatingly tight, there’s just nothing he can do about it. Fucking beer. “I told you to go, what’s the point in dragging me up here just to rub it in more, huh?”

Almost worse, what if someone had noticed them going up the stairs together? He could’ve withstood that before, when they were still… But now Steve is all alone, painfully unwanted even by the town loser, who must have pulled his punches long enough for the sake of getting laid for a while, just like all the girls who had ever found Steve wanting after a few dates. All he wants is his own sad business to stay pathetically his own, but Eddie just had to be out selling tonight. 

“Maybe I just wanted a little fucking closure, Steve.” Eddie leans back against the closed door, like he’s trying to get as far away as possible without leaving the room, glaring. There’s nothing soft in those eyes now, not anymore, not even as he says Steve’s first name instead of his last. A concession? No, it must just be a lapse. A lingering habit of familiarity, soon to be broken. “You kicked me out without any warning, and now you’re following me around with this look like I’m the one that did something wrong. Rub in what? What the fuck did I even do?”

Steve feels his jaw drop. “What did you do? Are you stupid or something?”

They’d been in Steve’s bed, plaid comforter kicked to the floor in their hurry, too wrapped up in each other to give even half a shit about the chaos of sheets around them. And maybe Steve had been a little self conscious about taking off his shirt that night, because it was between sport seasons and he hadn’t been keeping up with his workouts lately, too wrapped up in Eddie and shared joints that set his mind free from what Eddie called the ‘shackles of conformity.’ He’d still done it, stripped as eagerly as if he’d never noticed the way a few extra pounds had gone to his ass and belly lately. Because surely Eddie wouldn’t care. It was conformity to worry about that kind of shit so much, and Steve was trying to be better. To be someone Eddie could not just like, but respect, too. 

At first it was fine. Eddie pounced on him like he usually did, with a demanding kiss before lavishing attention on the constellations of Steve’s moles that lead from check to neck and further. He latched onto a nipple, teasing at the quickly tightening bud with teeth and tongue until pulling back in satisfaction and diving for the other. Then further down, raking his blunt, black-painted nails down Steve’s sides until he reached his waist, gripping… then, unusually, pausing. And then, then he’d—

“You laughed at me,” Steve spits, and oh god his eyes are really stinging now. That’s all he’s got, that four-word complaint, but it’s anything but little. Humiliation and hurt and shame coiling in his gut and making all the beer he’s downed tonight churn unpleasantly, because he’d been stupid to think that what they’d had wasn’t as superficial as everything else in this stupid town that Eddie wants to ditch the second he graduates. Everyone knows what the Freak of Hawkins High thinks about jocks. Probably sits around snickering to himself in his free time about how Steve’s let himself go—

“When the hell did I laugh at you?” Eddie is still pissed, still scowling at him, but there’s an undercurrent of bewilderment in his voice. (Steve recognizes it from the time he’d tried to explain the rules of baseball.) “Before or after you shoved me off, bare ass fucking naked, and told me to get my shit and get lost?”

“Before!” Steve can’t believe this. What is Eddie trying to do here, pretending he doesn’t know? “Right before that! When you… felt my stomach.”

Face burning at the admission, Steve is looking anywhere but Eddie and doesn’t know what to make of the sputtering noise at first. Until the lack of response gets to him and he glances, then focuses, then frowns, the tight cross of his arms loosening infinitesimally in distraction. 

Eddie is just… standing there, pointer finger held aloft in a ‘hold on a second’ gesture, his other hand pressed hard against his mouth and his eyes downcast in deep thought. 

It’s the same thing he does when he has a light bulb moment about a new plot point in a campaign and is trying to sort out in his head how all the threads of it mesh with what’s already there. The recognition makes Steve’s heart ache, regardless of how baffled he is to see it in this context. 

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters after a second, rubbing his hands over his face and sighing heavily, a hint of frustrated growl to it. “Well… fuck, okay.” 

He presses both hands together, tapping both pointer fingers against his lips and breathing out heavily through his nose, and finally looks up to make eye contact. 

“Okay, I just heard it how you must have heard it, and that’s—” A grimace passes across Eddie’s expressive face. “I wasn’t laughing at you, Steve. Pretty insulted that you’d just assume I even would, but that’s… that’s not the point.”

Steve blinks and keeps blinking, hard, not sure how the argument has turned into… this. He’s still mad, hurt, everything he was a minute ago, but now he’s confused too. And kind of indignant, a little unsure, half ready to tell Eddie to just get out again. “What? Dude, I heard you!”

“Not a laugh!” the metalhead insists. “This is so—For fuck’s sake, Steve, I liked it. I was excited, and I… I fucking giggled, alright?”

And… what?

“Giggled?” Steve repeats. 

“Yeah,” Eddie bites back, embarrassment coloring high on his cheeks. “Like a goddamn schoolgirl. I wanted to bite you there, you asshole,” he adds, but it lacks heat. His voice has gone tired, the fight draining out of him as he realizes—and as it occurs to Steve, if he’s telling the truth—that what they’d both been hissing mad about was a complete and tragic misunderstanding. 

“But… I don’t get it,” Steve says numbly. Maybe it’s the beer catching up to him, but his conviction is wobbling now and he feels off kilter. He shuffles a few more steps backwards until he runs up against the bed and sits so fast it feels like falling. “I’ve let myself go and you… I thought you…”

He’d been so sure. That laugh has been ringing through his head ever since he’d heard it, but suddenly it sounds like a caricature, like something out of a cartoon. 

Not how Eddie sounds at all.

“It’s not ��letting yourself go’ to not be skin and bones, man,” Eddie says, shoving both hands in his pockets and looking down at the toes of his own sneakers. “Some padding never hurt anyone. I like it, alright?” Defensive, defiant, but… a little subdued now. 

Sad, Steve thinks, and then suddenly that’s all he can feel. It hits him that he’d pushed Eddie away, ended things between them… for no reason? 

His shoulders are already hitching up before he even registers that he's crying, wetness trickling straight down to dampen the hair at his temples. It’s been weeks. Weeks of being angry—he’s so tired of it, but the only alternative was to feel horribly lonely so he held onto it anyway, a rope burn on his soul to distract from the pain of his heart cracked in two. 

And he’d known as he watched Eddie earlier tonight that his gaze bordered on more pathetic than mad. Not quite cooled off enough to realize on his own that he’d made a mistake, but enough to recognize it now that reality (and Eddie) stares him in the face. 

It’s over for no reason. Eddie hates him now and if it was just a dumb misunderstanding then, then Steve absolutely deserves it—

The bed dips at his side. Not close enough that they’re touching, but that it happens at all is a surprise. And then Eddie murmurs “Stevie?” so hesitant it makes Steve choke. 

It’s the barest hint of an olive branch, and he’s absolutely going to blame the beer for how it makes the tears drip faster. He hasn’t felt this pathetic since the car ride home after one of the few basketball games his dad had ever bothered to attend, where Steve had missed not one but two easy free throw shots. 

“I’m so s-stupid,” he gasps wetly, and immediately feels even more pathetic for saying it out loud, as if it’s not obvious. He turns away, away from Eddie, trying to hide—his face, his body, everything. This is the worst pool party ever and he’s never drinking again. 

“You're not stupid, you dumbass. Hey.” Eddie touches his shoulder, keeps his hand light but there when Steve tries to shrug it off. He sighs heavily, almost a huff. “It’s not stupid to react to me pressing a button I didn’t know was there. Look—Would actually saying something instead of jumping right to kicking me out been better? Absolutely. That really fucking hurt, man.”

“Sorry,” Steve squeezes his eyes shut. “And sorry I called you a freak. You’re not, I don’t… I don’t really think that.”

There’s a pause, and then Eddie squeezes his shoulder. “Thanks, man. I’m, uh… sorry for the crack about your dad and calling you an asshole.”

“I am an asshole.” Steve’s eyes are already shut; he squeezes them tighter until colors start to bloom across the inside of his eyelids. “Fucking ruined everything over some stupid thing that was only ever in my head, so I… I deserve this. But you didn’t and I’m sorry, I hope you—” and here his throat tightens up, because he wants to say I hope you can forgive me, but that would be even more pathetic than he’s already being. “I hope you find s-someone who treats you better.”

This pause stretches out for a lot longer, so long that Steve would think Eddie had left if not for the remaining dip in the mattress and the hand-shaped brand on his shoulder. He’s just waiting for the agreement and for Eddie to finally leave for good, holding in a wordless, futile scream for when he’s alone. Fuck the party downstairs, he’ll call the cops himself if he has to just to clear them all out, and suck up whatever punishment he gets if the Hawkins PD decides to notify his parents. 

Finally, after a thousand fucking years of that scream burning a hole in Steve’s throat, Eddie says quietly, “Or, you could just… not do that again. Think you could do that for me, Stevie?”

Absolute fucking whiplash. 

Steve is so shocked he actually turns back to look, and all it takes is the sight of the other boy’s big brown eyes and the softness there, the tender flaming hope in them. “Yeah,” he croaks, doesn’t even think he sounds like himself anymore but at least he gets the word out. “Yes, Eds, please—”

And then Eddie is on him with a bruising kiss, scrambling to kick his shoes off while Steve scrambles at the black leather jacket, pulling it off to grab desperately where Eddie’s bare sides show through the intentionally ripped shirt beneath it. Ripped denim rasping against swim trunk fabric as Eddie straddles him, grinds down hard, refusing to let either of them up for air. Steve is just as hungry for it, just as desperate. 

It’s different. They’ve still got their residual hurts, he can taste it in the way Eddie bites at his lips, bites all the way down to his neck and sucks a dark claim on the side that Steve can’t help arching into with a moan. A breach of their unspoken rule not to mark each other because they can’t be out, not in this town and definitely not while they’re still only going into their junior and senior years, respectively—but Steve is in just the right mood not to give a shit about that right now. Although…

“Door,” he gasps, trailing off with a whine when Eddie rolls his hips down into his again. “Did you lock it?” 

Eddie pulls back fluidly with a curse under his breath, which Steve takes as a no. “Get these off while I’m gone,” he says, voice rough, and tugs at the waistband of Steve’s swimsuit. A second later he’s on his feet, backing away with a smoldering stare until Steve gets the hint. 

With a jolt, Steve shoves the trunks down, bracing his heels on the bed to tug them over his ass. His cock bobs free, and his breath catches at the way Eddie keeps watching until he backs into the door. 

“Good boy,” Eddie breathes, turning the lock behind his back. “Scoot back on the bed. After tonight, I’m going to make sure you’ll never think I’d laugh at you ever again.”

Steve does as he’s told, partly because he’s still shivering from the good boy (what is it about Eddie taking charge and calling him that, gets him every time) and partly because Eddie turns away to his tape player. Downstairs, it sounds like the party has seeped into the house; the living room speakers are thundering out don't you want me baby? at a volume that will probably spur the neighbors into action—morons. But all the better that the door is locked, if the party is going to ramp up unchecked; it’s only a matter of time before couples start breaking off to find any free privacy they can get. 

Eddie puts in a mix tape, one of the ones he’d gifted months ago for what he’d called Steve’s ‘auditory re-education,’ and moves the smaller player close to drown it out.

In that cocoon of some of the metal songs that Steve actually likes, Eddie comes back to bed stripped out of his jeans and shirt. He crawls up between Steve’s legs until he’s hovering over him face to face. Then he gathers up Steve’s wrists, moving them to cross against the headboard above his head, and Steve lets it happen because it makes breathing pick up, makes his pulse throb faster between his legs. 

“Keep these here,” Eddie says, and then kisses him so gently that Steve is shaking with the need to pull him closer, to have more. But the second he reaches to do so, Eddie catches him again. “Stevie…”

“I missed you so much,” Steve groans. Pouts, too, but lets Eddie replace his wrists above his head, not sure if he’s fully forgiven yet—doesn’t m is if this is penance or a reunion, or to what degrees it’s both. “Eds, please—”

He’s interrupted with another kiss, just as gentle and slow, but so unchaste it makes him feel like he’s melting. And then Eddie murmurs against his lips, “Missed you too. Let me show you, sweetheart.”

Before Steve has a chance to answer, Eddie wraps a hand (when had one of them left his wrists?) around his cock and drags a slow thumb over the head. 

“Just keep your hands up here for me and be good.”

With a shuddering breath, Steve tries. He keeps his hands in place while Eddie nuzzles down the front of his shirt to the soft swell of his stomach, no less noticeable than their last night together. (Watching what he eats is hard, okay? He’s a teenage boy, he gets hungry. And maybe he’s still a little bloated from the beer even though he can’t really feel the alcohol slowing him down anymore.) There’s a faint red line, visible when his shirt is lifted, where it’d pushed slightly over his waistband all night; Eddie presses a gentle kiss to it and sighs.

A good sigh, like this is exactly what he’s been waiting for. Steve’s heard it before when taking the other boy in his hand, in his mouth—and even if his mind is inclined to overthink it, his body is hardwired to respond. Precome dribbles onto Eddie’s fingers, easing the glide as he slowly, slowly starts to stroke. Makes Steve shiver with dueling sensations of shame and pleasure because Eddie is still kissing the little pooch of his tummy, free hand kneading gently over the softness at his side, starting to tip the scales with how good the combined attention feels. 

“That’s it baby,” Eddie tells him breathily, almost crooning. “That’s it…”

And slowly, slowly Steve starts to relax into it. He does try to look away a few times, overwhelmed, but Eddie answers each attempt by turning his face gently back and staring him down while kissing him more, tummy and soft sides and chest. Leaving love bites here and there. The sounds Eddie makes, pleased hums and low moans and quiet praise and Steve’s name, over and over. 

It feels like coming home. 

The next morning, Steve wakes up to Eddie kicking the door shut behind him as he comes back into the room. 

“Everyone’s cleared out, but you do not want to look out there,” Eddie announces, setting a tray piled high with easy breakfast foods (scrambled eggs, bacon, buttered toast, jam, poptarts, fruit), two mugs of coffee, and a jug of orange juice on the bed with a flourish before crawling back into it himself. “At least not before noon.”

Steve doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t care, because Eddie is here. Eddie is here. With a breakfast that perfectly suits his level of hungover—not bad, but not great. 

“Eds,” he starts, another apology ready to spill out, but Eddie pops a piece of toast into his open mouth and settles at his side. 

“We’re good,” the other boy says simply. “It was a dumb misunderstanding that made you feel hurt and sad and made me feel hurt and pissed off, but it’s untangled now. Just never try to dump me like that again and we’ll be fine, alright?”

“Uh-huh,” Steve agrees quickly through a full mouth. He’s struggling to chew the big bite that had been shoved in, reaching for Eddie’s hand. Eddie loops an arm around Steve before letting him take it and twine their fingers together. As soon as he swallows, he adds, “I don’t want to dump you.” Not ever again, he hopes, but it doesn’t feel like the right time to say so. Not right now, not something so big that it’ll sound like a grand empty promise right after making up. 

But Steve is pretty sure the fact that it hurt so much to push Eddie away means he’s capital L in love with him. 

“Good.” Eddie kisses him, a hint of sweetness on his lips that suggests he sampled some of the jam while cooking. “Now, eat up sweetheart. That makeup sex wiped me out, and we’ve got a lot more celebratory banging on the schedule for today. Gotta keep that strength up.”

And, he has a point. Steve feels the grumbling of his empty stomach, along with the easy throb of all the little marks Eddie had left on his body the night before as a form of… of worship or something. Reminders that maybe letting go isn’t such a big deal. Because if he skimps on breakfast when it’s what his body wants (needs), sooner or later he’ll get restless and cranky and risk ruining everything all over again. “Yeah, keep my strength up,” Steve agrees, feeling his face heat a little. But Eddie beams at him, starts fussing around with the pillows so they can recline comfortably while they eat—while offering Steve forkfuls of scrambled eggs and bites of this or that, really—and slowly, slowly relaxes into feeling like everything’s going to be okay.

Permanent tag list: @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @irishvampireboy @oatmilk-vampire

@wheneverfeasible @hamiltonswiftie @grtwdsmwhr @yesdangerpls @theseaofdespair

[lizzieislife94x]

Mafia Boss (e.o)

Requested<3

Lizzie x G!P Reader

Y/ns POV:

"Just get it done keep it clean and call me when it's done!" I spit out at the idiots I call employees they can't do anything right, I hang up slamming my phone on the table "baby is everything ok" my beautiful girlfriend Elizabeth says walking over rubbing her hand up and down my arm "yeah everything's ok baby just work hey I got you this dress for the party tonight" I say softly handing her the dress I bought I won't lie it's short and tight and I know its gonna hug her ass and tits perfectly "babyyyy thank you so much" she exclaimed excitedly jumping up and down as I pull her into a passionate kiss after a minute of her soft lips working against mine I break away and slap her ass "go get ready sexy we leave in 2 hours" I say as she turns and walks away.

Finally she's ready I look at her as my eyes almost pop out there head "fuck me lizzie you look wow" I say flirting with my sexy ass girlfriend "by the way you take forever to get ready" I giggle as she slaps my arm "and you wouldn't have it any other way by the way you look sexy y/n I don't know why but seeing you in suits does things to me it really does" she bites her lip as she runs her hand over my crotch knowing exactly what she doing "ah ahah I don't think so lizzie not right now behave we need to get to this party I have a little business to take care of" she pouts and walks out to the car as I shake my head and laugh at her "someone's pouty" I tease as I get in to drive it takes almost 40 mins to arrive as i hand my keys to a valet "my lady shall we" I smile offering my hand to my frustrated girlfriend "boss they're here and waiting we've checked no weapons so all clear to go in" my right hand man whispers as I nod to let him know I understand "hey princess I need to take care of business go have a drink ill be done in 5 minutes" I say as I kiss my girlfriend on the head.

Lizzies POV: 

Fuck she's so sexy walking away no lizzie don't think about how sexy y/n is she's in the bad books she left you wet and needy and she didn't even know it, I honestly have no reason to be annoyed but i just am she knows it turns me on, I strut over to the bar and order a drink as I patiently wait for my girlfriend I hate when she's dealing with business I don't want her to get hurt, I let out a sigh as I drink my drink "well what's a beauty like you doing alone care to dance" a charming 6 foot blonde man asks trying to hit on me I should tell him who my girlfriend is but decided against it i think its time to really annoy y/n "omg yes thank you I'd love to dance" I say as I take his hand and follow him to the dance floor we continue to dance for a while until I spot y/n glaring at me I decided to push a little further and really play with fire so slowly start to grind on him smirking as I do. 

Y/ns POV:

We walk out and shake hands with the leader of the opposite gang as we just finished laying some ground rules as soon as I turn my head I see lizzie with some guy all over her dancing what the fuck is she doing is she trying to end this guy, as soon as she locks eyes with me she starts grinding on this idiot "find out who that is that's all over her before I start fucking hurting people" I spit out as the jealousy bursts out of me "umm ahh actually y/n that's my son" the man I just finished the meeting with chimes in "well if you don't get him away from my fucking girlfriend right now I will make sure he sleeps with the fishes and ill do it personally you have 10 seconds 9..8..7" i start to count anger spilling from my lips as his 2 of his people run over to pull him away from lizzie i take a second to calm down before I walk over to her with a smile "now princess what was that all about I think we better get going because your in trouble "

I see her visibly gulp and take her hand leading her out to the car as we wait for them to bring it round lizzie whisper just loud enough for me to hear "baby I uh..I.. nothing happened I just wanted to push your buttons you left me all needy" awh she's trying to seem like butter wouldn't melt "and you think rubbing your ass against some dude is nothing oh honey you need to be taught a lesson you need to remember who you belong to" I say loud enough for people around to hear and I see her face turn red as I open the door for her to get into the car and climb into the drivers seat "what's wrong princess " I taunt resting my hand on her thigh as I drive home slipping it higher every so often "baby I'm yours no one elses" she says out of the blue making me giggle "and I'm yours but you need to learn that no one gets to touch what's mine your lucky that dude was 5 seconds away from taking a nap in the Hudson " I say as she bites her lip when I'm in full business mode she loves it she loves the power I hold "fuck baby I wouldn't have been dancing with him if you didn't leave me wet and needy before we left" I look at her shocked and laugh "what are you talking about I didn't tease you before we left you tried to grab my dick princess " she huffs and folds her arms "you know what you in suits does to me you could have fucked me before we left "I squeeze her thigh and smirk "princess I had business to attend to but trust me your getting fucked as soon as we get home" I say sweetly giving her a smile after 10 minutes of driving we arrive home and lizzie rushes out and runs outside as I giggle following her so needy I head straight upstairs knowing she'll be in the bedroom and stop in my tracks "how did you get naked so quick" I say as I bite my lip walking over to her "I have my ways" she smirks pulling me down into a Firey kiss as she works on getting my clothes off after a minute I stand up to remove my boxers I slowly rub my dick as I look into her eyes and grab her ankles pulling her to the edge of the bed "mhh good girls get lots of foreplay bad girls get pounded till they can't take it anymore " I husk out into her ear as I feel her full body shiver I bite my lips as I tease her entrance with the tip of my cock fuck she wasn't lying about being wet "please y/n please fuck me I've been a naughty girl" as soon as the words leave her mouth I sink deep inside my girlfriend bottoming out in one thrust "yesssssssss y/n fuckkkk aaaah" she screams as she arches her back "is this what you wanted you naughty girl my cock deep inside you?" She nods with her eyes closed as I thrust hard and deep "words Elizabeth words is this what you wanted" I continue my relentless pace pounding into lizzie the sounds ofher wet cunt as my dick slams in and out is music to my ears her moans make me so fucking hard "yes yes yes this is...what..I.. wanted baby fuck don't stop I'm cumingggg " I moan as I feel her walls hug my cock tighter "fuck lizzie this pussy is mine" I moan as I fuck her faster not giving her time to recover I feel the knot in my stomach getting stronger "fuck baby I'm so close I'm gonna fill your little cunt is that ok" I moan out as I lift her leg over my shoulder getting deeper "uhh...fu...oh god yes baby cum inside me please I want to feel you" i look down and notice lizzie cumming again as she creams over my cock I feel my thrusts getting sloppy as my orgasm approaches fast after a few more thrusts I slam deep inside her filling her with my seed as I lean my forehead against hers breathing fast "fuck princess" she moans and I smirk "yeah it was amazing but remember your mine if anyone touches you again ill make them disappear " I say with a smile as I lay next to her pulling her close "so protective I love it y/n I love you" she whispers against my ear making me smile.

AN: if you have any requests let me know, hope this was OK word count 1.5k 

[vaspider]

I genuinely hope this isn’t too prying or intrusive, I am strictly asking out of curiosity but…. What…. Is going on with that 16 year old and why is it on a post about a house coat? Are you ok?

I'm fine.

That kid has been fixated on me since I said, basically, that the French Revolution killed a bunch of innocent people and isn't something to be emulated.

For the past 3 weeks, since I told her to leave me alone on Tumblr, she's been stalking me across the internet, digging up every possible way to contact me, and sending elaborate death threats along with suicide threats. I've turned off the contact forms on my professional website and NK. She's sent asks here and contacted me from multiple Tumblrs, multiple Facebook and Instagram accounts, TikTok, LinkedIn, Reddit, YouTube, BlueSky, and multiple email accounts. I'm pretty sure I'm missing something, though I do have it all screenshotted and saved. She found my phone number and left multiple threatening voicemails, and she kept contacting my business, sending death threats to places where my employees, including my younger brother, had to deal with them.

She seems to think that I'm a man, and that I'm attempting to use magic on her, and that she can threaten me into doing whatever it is she wants. I don't really understand what's going on in her head, and I'm not trying to do so. I don't really read the things she writes.

At this point, the FBI is involved - she's been sending death threats pretty much every day for about a month now with a few breaks here and there - and I've been declining to respond to her for the vast majority of that time, hoping that she'd get bored, or, hopefully, that someone who cares about her would realize how deeply, deeply unwell she is and get her help before this becomes a criminal matter. I really, really don't want to be put in that position, but I also can't ask the people who work for me (some of whom are my family) to deal with a constant barrage of messages detailing how if I don't publicly apologize for ... fuck all if I know or care... she's going to "slit [my] throat like a Sicilian" and throw my body in the Willamette River.

I really, really, really just want this kid to leave me alone. I didn't seek her out - she sought me out - and I'm not interested in talking to or debating with a 16 year old. But, also, the things that she's been doing for the past month are crimes and truly beyond the pale.

As to why that's on a video about a housecoat... your guess is as good as mine. Her last comments before this were on the two public videos on my abandoned YouTube account, both of which were process videos about making patches, and she left death threats on a post on my old personal Instagram that I made on the day of the Tree of Life shooting. It has nothing to do with me or what I'm saying - she seems to just randomly pick things to add her bizarre urban fantasy VASpider fanfic to.

Please leave that person alone, everybody. She is a third my age and very clearly deeply unwell. I'd been ignoring her, but I'm kind of hoping against hope that knowing that, yeah, actually, what she's doing is a crime, people take that seriously, and I really really really don't want her to fuck up her life? will convince her to stop.

I'm not afraid. I'm mostly just tired and very, very sad. It is really upsetting to see someone who is so out of alignment with consensus reality, and it's even more upsetting when that person is so young. I feel deeply sorry for her, both that she's unwell in a way that's clearly causing her harm, and that she doesn't seem to be getting the help she needs from the people around her. I hope it's just that the people around her don't realize what's going on and that someone can make them aware, because it is just... rotten... to see someone that young making such a mess of things.

I don't want to talk about this further. I've been avoiding talking about it publicly at all, but at the point where we're closing on a month... I dunno. I hope saying something directly and making it clear this isn't going to go the way she thinks gets it through to her.

I'm gonna go play with my dog.

[marchy-emmet]

Pokémon White - The Battle Subway's Void

MARCHY... WRITING?!?!! Pppffff, aside from that... I wanted to write a little one-shot thingie in creepypasta format to explain in a lil' more detail what glitchy Submas are about. No gore or anything, only madness!! Without further ado, let us dive into this shitstorm...

And as a note: The player's opinion of Submas does not reflect my own, lol.

----

So… here’s the deal. I’m going to jump right into it – no sugarcoating whatsoever.

I’ve been an avid Pokemon fan for my entire life – way down from childhood and up till now, even as a broke unemployed college student. Generation 5 had always been my favorite, and though the attractions in Nimbasa City aren’t particularly pleasing to me, there was one place that had caught my attention – Nimbasa Gear Station.

Now, I am no rookie player… I’ve been through this subway time after time again – my favorite being the singles lines due to how quickly you can farm BP. And the doubles line was slower but gave you the same amount of BP, so what was the point? My copy of White was maxed out in money and time. No need to add more grueling tasks.

… Well, enough yapping for now – I don’t have much time, anyway. Let’s, once again, jump right into it.

Just a few nights ago, I had made my rounds with the battle subway again – but this time, I decided on choosing the multi lines. I’ve got barely any friends who play, so I ended up playing this with the NPC Hilda in the comfort of my own dorm room… If only I could play with sentient beings, I thought sarcastically to myself – no one being around and all…

It was unsurprisingly a typical, boring and usual sweep of the battle subway. A timid Hydreigon with max EVs in special attack and speed with dark pulse, flamethrower, surf and dragon pulse had done the trick. Way too easy!! We had a bit of trouble with a few NPCs here and there, but it was nothing terribly difficult.

Then came, of course, Ingo and Emmet with their usual cone stance. I never understood the hype around these two random NPCs… Sure, strange design and all – but what’s the deal?

With me already having dull feelings about the subway masters and their undeserved hype, the experience I was about to have this very night would ruin their image forever.

Aaaand the game crashes. What the fuck??!?! All of that hard work of grinding in the battle subway while mashing A had gone to waste. I am gonna fucking lose it… I thought. The only logical thing to do was to man up and suck it up and redo the entire thing over. So I rebooted the game, muttering profanities under my breath and waiting impatiently for the title screen to appear.

And it didn’t. At this moment, I thought, okay, obviously the game is fake. What is this shit? Perhaps I was a bit too irritable for no one’s good, because as soon as I had restarted it again, the title screen actually showed up with a bit of lag. But still… Something was off. Lag is a telltale sign of a fake game, right?

This thing’s cartridge was used, after all. I had no idea what the previous player had done to the game… In the back of my mind, I had hoped all my save data hadn’t been deleted. Fuck.

I eagerly waited for the game to boot fully and take me back to Gear Station as I hit the save file, but the performance of the virtual world only got lower and lower, steadily dragging itself back to where my character was standing. As per usual when you “quit” a subway battle, the employee was facing me in preparation to scold me.

… But he didn’t. He just stood there. And at this point I thought the game had frozen.

My heart kept beating fast as I frantically thought up plans of what to do with my save file. Transferring all of my work to another file was an option – but I didn’t have another DS or any friends who did. Again, fuck. At this point there’s no use in searching for resources online to find out if it was fake – it definitely was.

I took a deep breath and looked away from the screen for a moment as I hoped and prayed that the game would cooperate with me. The Gear Station theme was still playing, after all…

A few minutes later, and I simply gave up, rebooting the game yet again. And again, I experienced the laggy bootup screen and the strange pause at the employee. I dropped my DS, putting my hands in my face and releasing the most frustrated sigh to grace the earth.

This is when I suddenly heard an 8 bit screeching sound that had scared me shitless. I jumped up, removing my hands from my face and widening my eyes at the screen. Nothing was out of the ordinary, but the grating sound… ugh.

I reached for the DS’s power button and tried to turn it off – but to no avail. Okay, then let’s try holding it down for 10 seconds… Nope. Pressing all the buttons? Futile. Button combinations? Nada. And so I turn to Google – my attention now directed at my laptop screen – a terrible mistake, really.

After a few unhelpful searches, I turn back to my DS screen and jolt.

It was back where I was with Ingo and Emmet, but the background had gone completely black. How…? How was this even possible? At this point, I even considered that I had picked up a rom hack!

So, with all of the textures lost, I had of course entertained the idea that I was in generation 5’s “void” – similar to gen 4’s “void glitch” where you could catch Shaymin and Darkrai via the exploit. But I knew the walls of the battle subway were probably still around, and the only way of getting out would’ve been through the subway doors.

After a few moments of cautious reconsideration, I moved my fingers to the DS button’s arrows and pressed to go left. To my surprise, my character was actually able to roam around the void around Hilda, Ingo and Emmet!

Curiously, I approached Ingo and mashed the A button, attempting to speak to him. For a moment, this seemed to have frozen my game, until a text box popped up…

“What can I see after winning, winning, and winning? … Nothing – not without this fellow standing beside me.”

Huh. I had vaguely remembered the first half of this line from Ingo, but not the second half. At this point I was definitely convinced I had received some sort of fucked up rom hack in the real White’s disguise.

I spoke to Emmet, and his text box lagged similarly before he stated, “I am Emmet. I am a subway boss. And I am verrry angry. Too angry.”

When I spoke to Hilda, her text box was blank. No ellipsis or anything.

I… didn’t particularly enjoy the expressions the subway masters’ pixelated little faces were making. Dead, cold and glaring. But I had figured that’s how they always looked. Something was definitely going astray with their colors, because the more I stared, the bluer Emmet got, and the redder Ingo got. Their sprites were progressively getting freakier and freakier. What kind of fucked individual sat down and made this hack?

This is the part where a battle suddenly started without my knowledge or consent, despite my character standing far from their usual battle position. Uh… Okay then.

Subway masters Ingo and Emmet got into their usual battle position, backs turned before pointing… straight at me, as the player. This wasn’t quite right, I thought to myself, as I had remembered them pointing in opposite directions prior to this weird interaction. I did get a closer look at them, and their appearance was ever-changing.

They left the screen, and as per usual, Haxorus and Archeops were sent out first… Nothing was at all wrong with the sprites – except their eyes were missing? That and the fact that the battle’s background was white. A few blocky particles of what I call “glitch” were floating around the screen erratically. I also couldn’t help but to notice the Pokemon’s sprites weren’t animated.

I had a horrible pit in my stomach as my intuition was begging me to listen… But I persisted in thinking this was merely a twisted rom hack. The Pokemon still weren’t moving, and the screen was still struggling to load in the background with chunks of “glitch”. Colored particles were everywhere.

More possibilities floated through my mind… Was my DS broken? Was the cartridge dropped in water? Whatever the case might’a been, this was the most terrifying experience I ever had in a Pokemon game.

Unable to send my Pokemon out, I set the DS down and clutched my stomach a little, beginning to feel nauseous. My fingers tightened, rendering them paralyzed. I felt my whole body vibrate as I became deathly ill… Wasn’t quite sure why. There’s no way I was panicking so much over a video game.

As I stood up, I felt the room spin, so I sat back down. A distorted groan rang from the DS as Ingo’s sprite appeared back on screen, in the same pointing position.

His text box read, “The system cannot be shut off at this time. However, you could always offer reconciliation.”

Reconciliation? What the fuck was he on?

As Ingo’s distorted sprite faded out, Emmet’s appeared next – but he had black splotchy markings all over his body and face. I felt my heart beat faster again, and my breathing hastened as his text box popped up. It remained blank for a few seconds as Emmet’s round, soul-piercing eye revealed itself through his face’s shadow.

At this point I tried to shut the game off again by holding down the power button, but it was no use. Not even removing the cartridge stopped it.

“Do not try to turn the game off. Do not try to save the game. You cannot.”

How… How did he just break reality? I knew the funny business was over. This is real.

Ingo appeared again next to his Haxorus, who was melting into a glitchy mass. He began to speak again, his sprite’s eyes appearing in his face’s shadow. “I knew my partners wouldn’t make it through this – but I must protect what’s left. Why wouldn’t you play the multi lines for such a staggering duration of time, player?”

“I just did!!” I yelled back out loud, absolutely bewildered and jittery. I wasn’t even sure if responding to him would warrant a response, but…

Emmet’s Archeops began melting into a glitchy mass next as his sprite approached closer. Any light that was left in his eyes had died when he noticed his Pokemon partner was succumbing to the supposed reality break I was witnessing. His smile dropped for the first time. I’m pretty sure I had never seen that twin frown up until then.

“I am Emmet. This world is too limited. And I will break free. What you did was verrrry rude, player.”

“What did I do?!” I shouted back, feeling tears well up in my eyes. Not tears of regret or guilt, no – tears of confusion. Panic. My head was spinning at this point, and I had wondered if I was experiencing psychotic derealization. Something like this is much too bizarre to be real.

Another text box appeared as Ingo gestured to Emmet, Archeops and Haxorus. “Intentional separation is a sin that cannot be forgiven. Excuse me for repeating myself – but it would be kind of you to ask for reconciliation. I’m not sure how Emmet feels.”

I stared at my screen, my voice hoarse as I responded, “I… I’m not the one you’re looking for.”

I felt ridiculous responding to a video game character, but in my derealized mind this was logical at the time.

“Do not lie,” Emmet began, his sprite becoming increasingly glitchy, “I do not like liars. I do not entertain liars.”

I refused to press A past this point, instead reflecting on what could be happening. Are they feeling something? Is that why Haxorus and Archeops had died – due to a fatal game error?

“I’m sorry,” I say without really thinking, my thoughts racing with contemplating fear.

And Emmet responded again without me hitting A. “You said you are not the one. I do not like liars.” His sprite became bitter again, vibrating against the glitchy masses that were surrounding the twins and broken Pokemon.

I once again took a deep breath in complete disbelief, shutting the DS and dropping it harshly. I sobbed into my hands, unable to make out what I thought of this. Do I need psychiatric help? Was it real?

I felt as if something horrible was going to happen – as if these characters wanted revenge on me. And the game was still playing despite the fact that I had closed it.

Five minutes past as I rocked myself and wept, occasionally glancing over at the DS and putting destruction of the system into consideration. But before I could even formulate the plan, I noticed the DS was… vibrating. This just sent me back into the spiral of sobbing into my hands, but I kept my eyes locked steadily onto the DS. I knew a DS was not supposed to vibrate.

And then came what I can only refer to as a hallucination…

Something was pushing the DS’s screen back up – a finger covered by a black glove. The surrounding area erupted into glitchy fragments, and the gaming system was practically breaking itself and making crackling sounds as the plastic warped. Welp, guess my plan to destroy it was no longer needed.

Without a second thought I let out the loudest shriek I could ever release – and I had sworn the entire complex had heard it. Stood up and ran without hesitation. Not even going to stay to observe the scenery.

I made my way out of the dorms, speeding down the halls and immediately causing a scene. Everyone I passed just stood there, bewildered by my behavior. I was too scared out of my wits to even warn anyone.

I made my way out of the building and down the street, panting heavily and feeling my whole body cake in sweat. Pure fight or flight instinct. I knew then that someone wanted my head on a silver platter – video game character or not.

Eventually I was at my friend’s house, frantically knocking on their door… It isn’t my intent to bring danger towards them or their family, but it’s my only option at the moment. No way I’m staying back at that cursed dorm.

Explaining such a situation to my friend was uncomfortable, but they were concerned for my mental health and well being. And of course, they didn’t seem to believe my story, either… No one did. Everyone I texted, voice chatted with, and told in person always asked if I was joking, or if I needed some sort of help.

It’s been a couple of days since the incident, and I’ve missed plenty of classes – but they’re my last concern. Whether or not I come to find out if that thing was real, I need to hide for my own sake.

And I hope someone runs across this as a tale of caution (unironically, the reason I’m writing it). If you’re sold a game that’s advertised as real, and something strange begins to happen… don’t delve in further.

… Or you may end up like me – alone, just as the subway masters were. And possibly still being tracked down as I write.

[andydrysdalerogers]

Troublemaker ~ Chapter Ten ~ A Leap of Faith

He is one of the best goaltenders in the league. He's also hated by his teammates. He didn't mean to be a troublemaker but why not lean into it? There wasn't anyone to stop him.

Until he met her...

A Jeremy Swayman AU x OFC Stella Williams

Story Warnings: excessive drinking, SMUT!, an asshole Jeremy, angst

A/N: Hello and welcome to a spin-off "Cross-Checked" so plenty of characters from that story are crossing over here! If you want a more detailed story of how we ended up here, read the first store HERE Also! The taglist is open. If you want to be added or removed, please let me know!

Previous: A Fox in the Den

Please note that I do not give permission for my work to be translated, reposted, or published anywhere other than my Tumblr. Reblogs are most welcome though!

Banners by me! Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Stella 

The look of shock crosses his handsome face. He looks to Andy, who looks concerned, eyes bouncing between me and Kiley.  The GM clears his throat. “Let’s take it to the conference room.” He gestures to all of us, and I make sure Kiley is dragged in there. Every one of us is seated at the table but I stand.  

“I have evidence that Kiley Winters violated the privacy clause in her contract.” I connected my phone to the projector.  “This is the photo that appeared.” I click to the screen shot of her comment.  “This was the comment of the person who claimed to be the photographer. And this is her Instagram page.”  

“That doesn’t prove I took the photo,” Kiley protested. “I was joking.”  

“I thought about that,” I said looking at her. Then I pulled the email I had gotten that morning. “From the author of the article of the Boston Globe. Confirming that she was the photographer and was paid for her information.”  She visible shrunk in front of me.  

Karma is a bitch.  

I turned to the general manager. “Sir, while I understand why certain things happened, this proves that the photo was taken out of context and Jeremy’s private life was now very public. That’s not his fault or anyone other than a disloyal employee.”  

“You’re a bitch! You’re just doing this because I slept with your boyfriend! It's not fair that you could be hooking up with the hottest guy on the team! It should have been me!” 

I don’t think she realized her words until a half second later. I should have taken a picture.  

“Wait, no, that’s not... what I mean was...” 

“I think we understand exactly what you meant, Miss Winters.” The GM pinched the bridge of his nose. “We will be discussing this after this meeting.  Felix!” He called for the security officer outside.  “Please escort Miss Winters to my office and make sure she stays there until I arrive.” Felix nodded and the GM turned to me and Jeremy. “Is what she said true?” 

I swallowed hard and Jeremy spoke. “Yes, it is. But we followed protocol.” He produced a relationship acknowledgment agreement. “We submitted it to HR a couple of weeks ago.” 

My mind was racing. I didn’t remember signing anything, but Andy winked at me and now I was confused. Did Andy sign this form for me? Andy looked and mouthed “Leia”, and I understood. They found a way to help us at the last minute. 

“Well, since this is on the up and up, there is nothing I can say except to keep it out of my arena. Jeremy, I am reinstating you back to the team. I’m sorry that we didn’t investigate this further at them time but I’m glad Miss Williams had your back. Take the rest of the day and be back for morning skate.”  We all turned but he stopped me.  “Miss Williams, a moment.”  

Fuck, am I still screwed?   

He waited for the door to close, and I saw Jeremy’s look linger on me. That was a conversation I wasn’t looking forward to. “Yes sir?” 

“I know Kiley wasn’t your hire and she was already here when you took over as director. What happened?” 

“My ex decided to step out on our relationship. I didn’t retaliate other than just making her do scut work.”  

“I see.” He clasped his hands. “That was commendable. Anyone else would have taken out their anger on her. But how should I handle this?” 

I stay silent for a moment. “I’m not sure I’m the best person to decide that, sir.”  

“Another good answer. But if it didn’t involve your life?” 

“She would be fired. She violated her contract in the worst way. We must protect our team so they can focus on winning.” I huff out a breath and waited.  

“Did you know that Jeremy essentially told the entire team that he’s in love with his girlfriend? Coach felt terrible sending him home, but it was part of his contract that he keeps in line.”  

“I didn’t know that. We haven’t been speaking.”  

“I see.” He cleared his throat. “Maybe that was something he should have told you, but I felt like it was important. He’s a good man Stella. And I understand that what Kiley has put your through might have messed with your head a little. Take the day. I’ll handle things from here.”  

I’m still a little stunned by his words. Jeremy loves me. He loves me and I pushed him away. God I’m the worst.  

“Stella?” 

I snap out of my head. “Sorry. Thank you.” I got up and walked out in a daze.  

“Stella?” 

I looked to see Jeremy right in front of me. I could see the sleepless nights and worry etched in his face. Worry that I had put there. How could he want me when I absolutely abandoned him when he needed me? “I can’t do this,” I whisper.  

“Stella, baby, I…” 

“I can’t do this,” I repeat louder. “I’m sorry. I just…” I spun around and basically ran away from the man I knew I loved too.  

I didn’t stop at my office. My keys happened to be in my pocket, so I just booked it to my car. I couldn’t be here. Not when the image of his broken face still dancing in my eyes. I almost made it until a hand shot out and grabbed me. “Stella, stop!”  

Andy gripped me. “Andy, please just let me go.”  

“Leia would have my head if I let you drive like this. C'mon, I’ll take you to see your favorite person.” He guided me into his car and took me back to his house. Tears streamed silently down my face. “Are you ok? “ 

“You didn’t have to do that. You didn’t have to find a way to make our relationship ok.” 

“Yes, I did. I owed the two of you that much.” He gave me a side smile, but it just made me sob harder. “Stella, what is it?” 

“I broke him. I didn’t believe him.” My chest shakes with sobs I can’t let out.  

“Stella, he going to be ok. You talk to him and it will work out. I promise.” 

“He loves me, and I ended everything. I don’t deserve him.”  

We make it to the house and I’m out the door and into Leia’s arms sobbing. She shushes me and walks me into the house. Andy gives her the rundown as I lay on the couch, my head in her lap. I guess I fell asleep because when I open my eyes it’s dark out and Leia is walking around with Avery.  

“How are you feeling?”  

“Like I threw away a good man.” I sigh as I stare up at the ceiling. “I knew that it was a bad idea.”  

“What?”  

“The friends with benefits. I knew one of us would end up hurt. Who knew that I would be the one to break both of us.”  

“Stel, I know you think that, but I think if you just talk to Jeremy…” 

“I can’t Lee. I can’t face him after what I’ve done. I don’t deserve him.”  

She walks over and places Avery in my arms. “Do you think that after Bret I felt like I deserved the angel in your arms or Andy?”  

“You do deserve them. You’ve been through so much. You deserve someone like Andy.”  

“And you deserve someone like Jeremy. “Avery let out a coo as if she agreed with her mother. “See even Princess Avery agrees with her momma.”  

“What do I do Avery? Do I talk to Uncle Jeremy and tell him that I love him too.?” 

Avery cooed while Leia gasped. “Do you really?”  

“Yeah. I think I do. But I’m scared something like this might happen again.”  

“It might but it’s a leap of faith to be with the one you love? The one that  would embarrass themselves just to see you smile.”  

Jeremy 

She ran away from me.  

You would think that would hurt enough but no, it didn’t cut like her words did.  

“I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” 

What did she mean by “I’m sorry.” She hadn’t done anything wrong.  

I sat in the lobby of the arena for a while. I didn’t know where to go. The only place that kept popping up is Stella’s. To be back in her arms. To make love to her over and over again. It had been five days since the day she sent me away and two weeks since I had been inside her. It was making me crazy. I needed her like I needed air.  

“Sway?” I looked up to see Brad and Linus looking at me apprehensively. “Are you ok?” 

“Yeah,” I said without any confidence in my voice. “I got reinstated.”  

“That’s great,” Linus said with a smile. But it immediately turned into a frown when he saw the look on his face. “So, what’s wrong?” 

“She won’t talk to me.” I looked at ground. “She said she couldn’t do this and that she was sorry, and she ran away. She found the proof that I wasn’t fucking around, and she still won’t talk to me.” I sat back with my eyes closed and started to bang my head off the wall.  

“Jer, c’mon, don’t do that,” Brad said, pulling me away. “If she doesn’t see reason, is she even worth it?” 

My body heated at his words. Worth it? Yes, she was. Given the chance, I would worship her every day. She completes me in a way I didn’t even know I needed. I’ve been wandering and floating through life but now, she makes me want to be a part of the world.  

“She’s worth everything.”  

I don’t remember how I got home but I find myself in my apartment with a bottle of beer and Linus looking at tape of the Maple Leafs. I can see the play, but I have no idea what it means. My face must convey that so Linus pauses. “I know you miss her, but you still have an obligation to the team.”  

“I know.” I take a swig of my beer. “I just want to talk to her. Even if she doesn’t want me anymore, I just want to tell her that I’m sorry and that I would never do that to her.”  

“Maybe write it out? Even if you don’t send it, you can get this off your chest.”  

I mull over his advice. I can put it out in the universe and then I can play may hardest from there. So, I sit and I write.  

Dear Stella,  

My warrior princess. Still fighting to protect yourself. 

I know that the pictures are confusing and upsetting.  I know you know the truth. I know that what Kiley did is unforgivable. Please know that I have not, nor will I ever, cheat on someone that I love.  

Yeah, I said it.  

I love you.  

I love you so fucking much that not having you here with me makes my heart ache. Knowing that I hurt you, unintentionally, makes me feel like it's the end of the world. I had just gotten done telling the boys I was in love with my girl. I want to tell the whole world that I’m in love with my warrior princess.  

I don’t know why you won’t talk with me, but I won’t push. I don’t want to force you into something that will hurt you. If you want to talk, hit me, scream at me, just tell me when and where.  

I love you, Stella Williams.  

You own my heart.  

Yours always,  

Jeremy 

The next three games are an exercise in what I can only call as warfare. The rivalry is deep between us and the Maple Leafs. But Linus and I have our team’s back. Austin Matthews may have one of the best shots in hockey, but we have the advantage. The defense has made sure to shut him down and any shot that does get through is stopped with enthusiasm. Linus and I continue to switch off games and it works.  

Somehow, writing the letter helped. Even if it didn’t get her to talk to me. Yes, I sent it to her email. I just wanted her to know how I felt and if that doesn’t do it, I can always resort to groveling and bribing.  

I’m not above it.  

Its game 4 and my turn in the net. We come out to warmups and the people on the glass cheer for us.  I try to get in the zone, not waiting to fuck up the 3-0 lead we have over the Leafs. I bend and stretch out, getting limber. Just as I turn to head off the ice, a big red sign catches my eye,  

Swayman, you sway me every day ~ S 

Now, I have seen hundreds of signs from fans, some very cute from kids and others less savory from women trying to get my attention. This one, however, piques my interest. I skate over to where the sign holder should be and stop a few feet from it.  

Because the sign holder is Stella.  

She lowers the sign and turns around. She’s got my name and number on her back. She’s wearing my jersey.  

I skate up to the glass as she turns. I don’t want to have this conversation in front of everyone. I take off my glove and press my hand in front of her.  She presses her right back, and I see the smile I have missed for weeks. I pull away and tap my heart three times.  She mimics and I know she understands.  

I shut out the Maple Leafs.  

After celebrating the win with the boys, showering and the press conference, I head back out to the tunnel, looking at my phone to see if there is a message from Stella.  

“Hey goalie, looking to score?” 

I lift my head to see my girl leaning against the wall. I smile and walk over to her. “You’re here.” 

“I am.” 

“I missed you.” 

“I missed you too.”  

“I’m so sorry.” 

“I know. I’m sorry too. I’m sorry for not hearing you out and leaving you when you needed me.”  

“Its ok. I know it looked bad. But I just need you to know that I just want to be with you.  As Jeremy and Stella, not friends with benefits.  As your boyfriend. As yours.”  

I see a small tear slide down her face. “I’m trusting you with my heart, Swayman.” 

I cup her face with both of my hands and thumb away the tear. “I’ll protect it better than the net, baby. I love you.” I kiss her softly.  

When I let go of this kiss, her eyes take a moment to open. And then she tells me three words that I have been wanting to hear for weeks. “I love you.” 

“Come home with me?” 

“Every day.”  

The ride to my place is taking forever. But I have her hand in mine as I drive us home. We could have celebrated with the team but tonight, tonight I wanted to lose myself in her. Walking up to my door, my self-restraint crumbles. I press her against the door and kiss her. And I’m home. I press my whole body into her so she can feel what she does to me.  How much I have missed her.  

“Jeremy,” she pants, trying to breath, “we have to go inside.”  

“Don’t want to stop kissing you.” I lean down to kiss her neck and shoulder, listening as she sighed in pleasure.  

“We can’t give your neighbors a show, baby, please,” she pleaded with me.  

I bent to grab her behind her thighs and wrap her legs around my waist. She giggled as she was taller than me know and could control the kiss. I fumbled with the door as she assaulted my neck with kisses and nibbles. I growled when she bit a little harder and got the door to slam open. I kicked it closed and walked directly to my bedroom. I toss her on the bed and she shrieks. “Jeremy!” 

“Oh no, not what you call me, sweetheart.” I crawl on top of her, and she pulls off my tie. She works my buttons as I continue to work her neck. “Say it.”  

“Don’t wanna,” she moans as I nip at her neck. She tries to continue with my buttons but instead I grab her wrist and pin them over her head. “Say. It.”  

“Jer,” she whimpers. Ah fuck, she said it and I slide down her body. I unbutton her jeans and peel them off of her legs. She’s in pale green lace and I recognize the pair. I reach up to help her out of her shirt and yep, she is in the matching bra. It was the same one from that first night. I slow down as I kiss her sweet skin.  

“Why?” She whines and I chuckle.  

“You’re wearing the same set from that first night. I remember,” I whisper in her ear. I dip my finger in her panties, and she moans quietly. “I want to enjoy it.”  

“Jer, you’re teasing.” She looked up at me with her gorgeous eyes. I want to cave and give her everything. “I need you. It's been too long.”  

Fuck, she’s got me. I pull off her panties and then her bra so I can enjoy her skin for one more minute. I sit up and grab at the back collar of my shirt and pull them off. I unbuckle the belt before Stella move to undo my pants. Her fingers danced across my abs, and I shuddered. She pushes my pants and boxers down and she bites her lip in anticipation. “Missing me?” 

“Every day.” She grips me and I hiss. I’m so hard and ready. I reach over for a condom, and she stops me. I turn to look at her. “I’m on birth control and clean.”  

“Are you sure?” I swallow. “I get tested every month and I’ve never been bare before.”  

“I trust you Jer. I love you.”  

“I love you.” I line myself up and I look at her again, wordlessly asking. She nods and she closes her eyes as I push in. Holy fuck, she’s warm and tight and wet and I think I have transcended. “Oh god, baby, you feel incredible.”  

“Jer, baby, so big.” I can feel her shaking in my arms. I lay myself on her, so she has some pressure to release the adrenaline that is running through her.  

“Breathe baby, just tell me when,” I whisper. “I love you, its ok.”  

She takes a minute. “I’m sorry, I just...” 

“Its ok, taking everything in me not to come. You feel so good. Are you ready?” She nods and I pull back and thrust back inside. Her back arches slightly as she moans. “You like, pretty girl?” I keep it slow and steady. No need to blow my top off before I get her there.  

“I... oh god, Jer, baby, fuck I need more,” she cried. Seeing her beg for me was something I wouldn’t take for granted.  

I press my hands next to her head and my forehead touches hers. “I love you. I think I loved you that first time. And its only gotten stronger. And I know it's too soon, but I just need you to know that one day, I’ll ask you to marry me. I’ll make you my wife.”  

A choked sob came out as I fucked into her hard. I didn’t need an answer. I just needed her.  

After, as she curled against me and my arm was wrapped around her, I thought about the past six months. I went from the team’s troublemaker to Stella’s man. But I wouldn’t change any of it. Hurting Leia is regrettable but then I wouldn't have found Stella.  

“Jer?” 

“Yeah baby?” 

“I just want you to know that when you ask, I’ll say yes.”  

Fuck. Yes.  

I lean over her. “I love you, my warrior princess.”  

“Love you too, my troublemaker.” 

Six weeks later – Stanley Cup Final – Game 7 

I’m buzzing in next. There are two minutes left and we’re up by one. The Kings have pulled their own goalie to try and tie up this game. I watch to my left as the ref drops the puck and the Kings are on the attack. Their center shoots and I get my blocker up and the puck flies right. I slide to block another shot but leave my left side open. Another shot, but this time, Andy dove in front and blocked it. Luke managed to get the puck away but not to ice it. My team raced to the other end and as the buzzer sounded for the end of the game, time stopped.  I saw Stella with Leia and Miranda and Avery. Stella banged on the glass tears streaming down her face as she screamed her happiness. I tapped my chest three times before my team tackled me to the ground.  

And I knew my life was complete.  

Epilogue

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@before-we-get-started

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[yallemagne]

What got me fucked up was Jonathan saying how could I do anything but bow acceptance IT IS MR HAWKINS' INTEREST NOT MINE. After Dracula told him that Jonathan's master promised he'd satisfy his needs (phrasing!)

He will take anything, anything at all to help him cope with this. Right now, he is falling back on "I am nothing. I'm doing this for my boss, I'm doing this for my second father, I'm doing this for Mr. Hawkins. If I cannot be of service, I am nothing."

Dracula is corrupting the promise of good service that Hawkins made into something far more devious.

"Then write now, my young friend," he said, laying a heavy hand on my shoulder: "write to our friend and to any other; and say, if it will please you, that you shall stay with me until a month from now."

He touches him again. And orders him to write Dracula's alibi for him.

"Do you wish me to stay so long?" I asked, for my heart grew cold at the thought. "I desire it much; nay, I will take no refusal. When your master, employer, what you will, engaged that someone should come on his behalf, it was understood that my needs only were to be consulted. I have not stinted. Is it not so?"

That dirty slip of the tongue! To him, Mr. Hawkins is Jonathan's master. He downgrades Jonathan from an employee who should receive compensation to a slave who should consider himself lucky to still be in the Count's good graces when he can so easily be replaced. But now that Jonathan's "master" can give no further input on what Jonathan is to do, Dracula has decided to assign himself as master, using some unfortunate wording on Hawkins' part to trap Jonathan into that dynamic.

What could I do but bow acceptance? It was Mr. Hawkins's interest, not mine, and I had to think of him, not myself; and besides, while Count Dracula was speaking, there was that in his eyes and in his bearing which made me remember that I was a prisoner, and that if I wished it I could have no choice.

We've seen before that Jonathan cannot put himself first. Even as he's fearing for his life, he prays he'll make it through if only so his loved ones will not be negatively affected by his death.

Imagine if Jonathan retaliated against the Count and Dracula decided to take retribution against Mr. Hawkins? Or even Mina? Before, Jonathan had to only worry about Hawkins' reputation and his profits, but now, he must worry for his life. Because what if Jonathan fails to be the good pet Dracula wants him to be?

The Count gives him the illusion of choice. But there is no choice. If Jonathan refuses to aid Dracula, he would be forced to follow through anyway but also risk punishment if Dracula saw fit. It is just like when Jonathan didn't ask the driver why they were riding in circles. The confirmation that he was being endangered on purpose would be worse than mere suspicion.

The Count saw his victory in my bow, and his mastery in the trouble of my face, for he began at once to use them, but in his own smooth, resistless way:— "I pray you, my good young friend, that you will not discourse of things other than business in your letters. It will doubtless please your friends to know that you are well, and that you look forward to getting home to them. Is it not so?"

Jonathan, despite trying desperately to keep up the pretense, has let slip his suspicions by not agreeing right away. Even still, he cannot break character lest he offends Dracula in some way and loses his favour. Likewise, Dracula also refuses to break character and tests Jonathan's limits as he continues the charade. He so kindly forces Jonathan to write his alibi and ensure that the few people who would care about his disappearance won't go out looking any time soon. At once, Dracula plays a tyrant and a gracious host. It brings him back to the good old days.

[ooc-miqojak]

Fuck Landlords

Today, I started sharpening my proverbial knives for this winter's Devouring of the Landlord. Here is the snipped text from an email I got from her today in response to a request that they assist me with a foul smell emanating from a wall in my apartment.

Since the snip is so small, I'll copy/paste what the bitch wrote when I told her that there is a horrifyingly vile stench of death in a closet/in a wall that is between my downstairs closet, and my computer room. A smell that is so pervasive, it has even begun to stink upstairs now that it has been almost a week we've been waiting for this to be dealt with (this is a closet under the stairwell).

"We had a maintenance tech and our pest control vendor come over earlier to look at and identify the smell.  They said they noticed a smell but it was not strong.  The pest control vendor said it did not smell like an animal and he did not see any animal droppings.  He was concerned that it may be a pet going to the bathroom in the closet?  Is there anything that could have spoiled that is in a box or around the closet?  Perhaps some cleaning out may help? He will come back in a couple of days and if it has not gone away can go in and open the wall.  We reached out to the resident in the unit below and they are alive.  So there are no dead bodies in the building. Please let me know if the smell continues."

So, when I complain that there is probably a dead squirrel in the wall in my apartment (and intimated they might want to do a quick wellness check on my elderly neighbor downstairs just to be safe, because you never know)... they send pest control who says 'nope, no pests here!'...which I already knew, because I didn't need pest control. Then, either the landlord is lying to me about what pest control said, or he seems to think my cats have human hands that can twist round doorknobs, and they are using their ~magical human hands~ to sneak into my closet to take massive, invisible shits, then they are leaving the closet and closing the door behind them. She is implying that it is my fault and I must just...be living in filth? Except...what pest control person thinks that feces and urine smell like death? And I doubt that anyone said 'the smell wasn't strong', because the first maintenance person to show up today immediately noted that it smelled like death/rot, and even mentioned they'd probably have to open the wall up to access it!

So the bitch lies to me, gaslights me, and then insinuates I must let what are effectively my children shit in the floor, and that's clearly the source of the stench. Except, I know my rights, and I wrote her about 4 paragraphs back about how I know my rights, how what she did is gaslighting and inappropriate and incredibly condescending... and in as kind a way as is possible, made it clear that I'm willing to make this a long, ugly fight she's not going to win. I grew up in the Southeastern U.S. - I will smile bright, call you hon, and the venom you never see will still melt the flesh from your bones, so I think she got my point. She is bound by law to deal with this issue, especially as it could be a health hazard - and it's real funny how her tune changed completely in her responding email, upon having me point out how I would also be making sure to hold onto her condescending and wildly inappropriate email here that blames me and condescends to me (especially as she is not the first member of management to try and step to me), for when I take this complaint further up to the parent company that owns this place.

Just a shame her apology email came too late, and I had already left a voicemail and an email for the parent company about the shockingly inappropriate behavior of this employee, and how she sets a low bar for their brand.

(It's worth noting that she's full of shit on other points, too - I specifically mention in my first complaint email that this closet stores nothing in it but nice smelling candles and toilet paper. So the bullshit question about cleaning it out just amounts to 'cOuLd It Be ThAt YoU'rE jUsT gRoSs?', which is wildly inappropriate, as well!)

Eat the godamned rich. Hold your ground against landlords.

Make them eat shit.

Edit: I made a follow up post to this, but the tl;dr is that I was right and she was wrong(obviously), and she refuses to actually apologize - she just makes almost-apology-excuses for her dogshit behavior. I hope she gets food poisoning over the holidays.

[fobredactedove]

okayyyyyyyyy so i said id elaborate on the snuff film ask, then i forgot but here it is now

so fob drive to the location they're sent, it's this kind of dilapidated looking warehouse which they write off as weird but not unseen. maybe the company has to move around or something, right?

they're welcomed in by professional looking people, further lowering their guard. they're talking pre-interview stuff as they're led into a room, and are so pre-occupied with general chit-chat that they don't even notice the bed in the far corner of the room, the multiple sets of iron restraints, the tool rack next to one of the 'interviewers'...

Andy's the first to realise something is up, but before he can voice any concerns there's already someone on him, restraining and gagging him before dargging him towards the bed. the other three are gagged and tied up, soon to be made to watch Andy die

cameras start rolling as Andy is forcibly stripped, raped, and choked, by an employee wearing a black mask. everything is filmed very professionally, excellent lighting, camera quality, so you can see the terror in Andy's eyes in 4K resolution as his nose is plugged and he asphyxiates to death, trying and failing to suck in air through the gag. once he stops struggling, his corpse is raped again, this time with no resistance and far more slowly, really savouring every thrust into his lifeless hole

afterwards, Andy is dragged off camera and the director turns to the other three members- whose cheeks are streaked with tears because of having to watch their best friend die- ungags them, and asks them to volunteer themselves to go next. They're silent, looking at each other in horror, until Patrick whispers with a hoarse voice,

"I don't wanna watch them die. Take me first." Joe and Pete frantically protest, but the director just grins, gags Joe and Pete once again, then has Patrick pulled into frame and onto the bed

An actor proceeds to brutally rape patrick, who is not gagged, so his angelic screams of pain are captured by the camera. his hair is yanked, his head is slammed against the headboard till his teeth clack together audibly and he spits blood, and when he passes out from the pain they beat him till he wakes again. it's vicious, and drawn out- it's clear Andy was just a taster. Pete and Joe try to loook away, to close their eyes, but every time someone strikes them till they fix their eyes on Patrick's torture.

finally, the actor is handed a knife and carves a heart deep into Patrick's chest, causing him to bleed out, the light flickering and fading from his baby blue eyes as death claims him. But, interestingly, the actor doesn't move to rape his corpse- instead, Pete is dragged into frame, stripped, and a gun is pointed at his head.

He realises what they want him to do.

He pleads, he cries, just not this, not this, but he feels the cold metal of the barrel against the back of his head and knows he has no choice. He screws his eyes shut and silently prays for Patrick to forgive him, as he presses into his best friend's dead hole.

He does exactly as he is told, naively hoping that maybe they'll let him and Joe free, thrusting into Patrick's cadaver at the pace they set for him, the pleasure fighting his fear. He cums inside of Patrick, and just as his orgasm subsides, he gets his brains blown out anyway. Pete's brain matter splatters all over the bed and wall, and his body slumps forward, still buried in Patrick.

The frame lingers on them for a while, until the actor holding the gun pulls Pete down to waist level and fucks the bullet wound. The tip of their cock sticks out of the front of his skull as they brutalise him, and when they pull out their cock is coated in gore.

By the time Pete and Patrick are taken off to the side, the once pristine set is filthy and covered in blood, cum, and tears. Joe is thrown on to the bed, yet nothing is done to his shivering frame. The director walks in front of the camera, and announces that Joe's fate is up to the viewers of the film. He will not die... yet. their loyal viewers will send in suggestions for how the guitarist will be snuffed. After this, the cameras cut, and Joe is left chained up on the disgusting bed, with nothing to look at but the violated corpses of his bandmates.

So, dear reader, what would you suggest we do to Joe? his suffering is in your hands! hehe

-doll guts anon (holy shit this is a long one. sorry admin)

<3

[waheelawhisperer]

Okay gonna go ahead and watch the entirety of Volume 9 now that the whole thing's been released. I'll share my impressions of each episode. Half this post is out of date because I originally started writing it when the premier came out and then decided I didn't care enough about RWBY to either continue watching it or continue writing about it midway through, so it will probably be a little disjointed. Further episode reviews will probably be a bit more coherent.

Gonna put everything under the cut because honestly I was not impressed with this episode at all. While there were some things I liked, the tone of this post is going to be very critical in general, so I'm putting that warning out there right now so the people who want nothing to do with that can skip over this post and go on with their day.

Before we begin, I'd like to make it explicitly clear that these are my initial impressions based on my first viewing and that I'm well aware that later episodes might reveal information that changes how I feel about choices made earlier on in the Volume. Given the typical pattern that occurs when I watch RWBY, I fully expect that when I rewatch episodes or watch later episodes or see someone else's takes on the show, I will make connections that I didn't before or find that specific writing choices bother me more or less than they did in the initial moment, so I'm not going to waste time saying "maybe seeing what they do with this later will make it feel better to me" every single time I express a negative opinion. Just assume that I'm doing my best to keep an open mind and remain cognizant of the possibility that things I don't like at first can be recontextualized based on subsequent information.

I should also note that there will be several other factors coloring my analysis. I have listed them below:

Volume 8 sucked ass and did likely-irreparable damage to my opinion of the series

It's been two years since the last Volume released, which means we've had time to build up hopes and expectations. There are things that frustrate me now that may well play better if I watch the prior Volumes and then watch Volume 9 in its entirety immediately after.

Between Volumes 8 and 9, we learned that Rooster Teeth hadn't actually improved like they promised and instead did things like not pay their workers, fire their animation department, and call employees coded slurs on camera. On top of that, I personally learned about some of the stuff Miles Luna has said in the past that is just... ugh, so I don't have a lot of faith that a show controlled and written by this awful fucking company founded on dudebro humor will be a) good and b) willing to tackle any kind of sensitive topic with the tact and seriousness it deserves.

I'm working long hours right now, which means I'm stressed, exhausted, and overall not in a good headspace. My temper is frayed, my memory's slipping, and I'm having trouble gathering and expressing my thoughts. Things that bother me are bothering me more than they normally would, and things that normally make me happy are not making me happy right now. This is unlikely to change prior to the end of Volume 9.

All of this together means I'm much less willing to give Volume 9 the benefit of the doubt than I would've been a few years ago, or even six months ago. That's something to keep in mind as I progress through this post.

That said, I actually really like the opening. The first-person perspective was an interesting change compared to what we usually get, and I really like the way it showed how damn fast Yang went over the edge. I've talked about it before, but the way they chose to portray Yang's fall in slow motion, while suitably dramatic, definitely didn't make it clear that the characters had very little time to react. I think we needed to see Yang get knocked off the ledge in real time and then see Blake fail to save her in dramatic slow motion (side note: Blake was booking it when she saw Yang fall)

I also gotta say I love how Neo was totally willing to throw hands with a teenager in midair. Like, she's just been betrayed by her employer and is possibly falling to her death and the first thing in her head is that she's gonna get her revenge if it's the last thing she does. It's so gloriously self-destructive. I think this is a good character moment for Neo.

After a start that I personally felt was pretty strong, the quality... kinda dips a little. I don't like what happens once we start focusing on Ruby. Her initial response feels very dull to me, and it raises a lot of questions. The first is, like... why isn't she freaking out? Why didn't she vocalize any thoughts? Why is the first thing she actually does vocalize frustration, but specifically frustration played for comedy? Why doesn't she go through the basic wilderness survival checklist a Huntress would presumably have learned (if her schooling didn't teach her, I imagine Qrow would've, and it would've been a nice little callback to the way he mentored her if she had remembered receiving that sort of advice and then acted on it)? Why does she not care that her weapon is missing? Why does she just walk off into the woods like she doesn't give a fuck about anything, including her teammates? Is there a reasonable explanation for her behavior? Is she in shock or something? Is it a good decision on the part of the writers if the answer to the previous two questions is yes (i.e. would it have been better to make Ruby react in some other way)?

I don't like the way we just see Ruby get mad that she's perpetually looping through the forest vs. really grappling with all the events of Volume 8. My guess is that she's doing her usual "crush it all down and put up a front and just never acknowledge any fear or insecurity" thing she likes to do, but it feels to me like it would've been a better choice to get something more out of her, even if it's just a little bit of concern about her teammates. I think they're trying for a slow buildup toward Ruby's breakdown, but we've been waiting for two years and I don't feel like this episode gave us much in general. I'm thinking this might be one of those things where I'd feel better about it if I watched all the relevant episodes in a short timeframe, but it is definitely frustrating now.

This is gonna be a complaint about the episode in general, but I really do not like the decision to go for such a comedic tone. After the tragedy of Volume 8, it just feels jarring. I developed a theory or two about why the writers made this choice as I watched the episode, but neither of them makes it a good one. RWBY should not be trying to be funny right now. A Kingdom fell. Penny died. The girls were traumatized. Why is the first thing we get a bird mocking Ruby and a one-mouse comedy show? This is the wrong choice of tone, and unless the show does something truly phenomenal with it (it won't), I am prepared to die on this hill.

Little's conception of name as purpose is interesting. I have a feeling that identity and purpose and self-perception are going to be prevalent themes throughout this Volume, and I think there's a lot of interesting exploration of those ideas that can be done with all four of our mains, especially Ruby.

WHY DID WE MISS THE BLAKE/WEISS REUNION????? It feels like this episode tries to speedrun the reunification of Team RWBY and there’s no tension to it. That said, I'm glad someone finally acknowledged that weapons other than Crescent Rose have names. That feels like a big part of RWBY's identity and a major element of its themes of self-expression that's really gone underutilized throughout the show's run.

The dialogue here feels a little stilted honestly, would've been nice to see a hug or something (kind of like it would've been nice to see the actual reunion). Really wish that there was more of a sense of urgency when they decide they should try to find the others. Blake was losing her shit when she thought Yang died, I kind of figured she'd be desperate to make sure Yang's okay (and that Weiss, who fought Cinder to the last with her teammate's weapon in her hands and tears running down her cheeks, would have some sort of overt interest in finding anyone that goes beyond "maybe we should look for them, idk").

I like the way Weiss doesn't want to talk about the battle. Feels like it's actually emotionally affected her.

And of course she goes straight from that to comic relief. At least the choice of tone is consistently bad.

We find Gambol Shroud almost immediately. Once again there is no tension or urgency to the search. It's starting to feel like this episode is just speedrunning the Team RWBY reunion so the show can get to whatever the hell it actually wants to do this Volume.

This whole vine trap sequence just annoys me. Why the hell is Weiss cheerleading like Blake is a high school quarterback about to throw a touchdown pass? Why the hell is this show trying to be funny in-universe moments after a Kingdom fell and all four of our mains nearly died? Why the hell are these fucking vines even an obstacle? Blake, you can literally double-jump. I have literally seen you jump higher than this and wall run like a fucking Naruto character without explicitly using your powers. Just pull some Jackie Chan shit and get your weapon back. Pretend, for once, that you are useful in a situation that does not involve either looking cute or pining over Yang. Weiss, you can also literally double-jump. You can help other people double-jump. Stop trying out for the cheerleading squad and do something useful. You could literally make Blake a ladder if you wanted to. For fuck's sake.

When I first watched the episode, I was thinking that maybe the Ever After prevented Semblance use or something, or maybe that it dulled the mental processes of "intruders" like Team RWBY and that was why the characters suddenly had zero brain cells, but after everything else I've learned about this Volume, I'm pretty sure the writers are just incompetent.

There's no tension to them being captured either. Blake, you have a Semblance. Why are these fucking vines even an impediment to you? This episode has thus far failed to set any kind of stakes or establish any kind of threat at all. I don't feel scared for Monochrome here because their captors are a bunch of fucking mice. Blake could free herself with a thought and literally stomp the mice like cockroaches.

Not that it would matter if I did feel anything but annoyance about this scene anyway because Ruby arrives to solve the problem immediately, thus ruining any chance of the show managing to establish any kind of stakes here. Little starts off by... sleeping. What does this character do? Very useful.

The mice, all of them, are fucking annoying. I don't know why they set this trap to begin with or how they knew to bait it with Gambol Shroud and I don't really care. Maybe this'll be one of those things the Volume expands upon later, idk, but right now I'm just waiting for Monochrome to be freed so we can go somewhere else and do something interesting.

Blake, why are you okay with being referred to as a cat? Isn't your whole arc about how Faunus aren't animals and shouldn't be treated as such? Or did you forget that when you also forgot how to fight? Really not doing a great job defending yourself against the years-long accusations of character regression, hon (most of those accusations are stupid but the fact that she did fuck-all besides stare longingly at Yang and wait to be rescued during the Atlas arc lends them some credence, and this is still not a great look regardless).

Interesting that Blake describes Yang as not scary. Very interesting.

Also interesting that Weiss says Yang could be scary if she wanted to. You're not beating the bottom/sub allegations anytime soon, girlie.

Okay, we finally get our first hint that Ruby has an actual plan instead of aimless wandering. Would've been nice if this was indicated in any way earlier, but at least it's something, and that's more than I expect from this episode at this point.

Eat the mouse, Blake. You know you want to. If you're not going to defend yourself against the catgirl profiling, at least live up to it and make this episode more tolerable. I don't know how I feel about her freaking out about Little climbing on her. I think the show is trying too hard to be funny again.

So glad no one gives a fuck about reuniting with Ruby either. Very moving, very emotional. What a close-knit band of friends, what a wonderful found family. RWBY's always had a problem selling the idea that the characters care about each other and are close to each other in the way the narrative wants us to believe they are (because the show doesn't have enough runtime to build those relationships properly and organically and refuses to adjust its scope to fit its resources) and it's getting noticeably worse this episode.

Little fell asleep again. "I can be your trusty guide" -> immediately fails to do anything useful. I don't like this character.

Blake finally shows some urgency. This should've come several minutes ago, but better late than never, I guess. Would be nice if anyone else showed concern for Yang, but I'm not convinced the writers realize there's a spectrum of goal alignment between "unified hivemind" and "only one character is allowed to want or care about any given thing". I still feel no tension around the search for Yang in the slightest. There is nothing in this world to indicate that she won't be totally fine unless she got caught in another stupid vine trap and eaten by mice.

Nice to see Ruby showing interest in the situation. Finally. Also nice to see someone besides Blake showing concern for Yang, muted as it may be. I like the way Weiss is clearly uncomfortable talking about what happened on Rainbow Road. I hope they actually do something with this, but I don't expect it. I don't have enough faith in RWBY's writing for that at this point.

The Jabberwalker is cool. Really freaky. Unfortunately, my torrent didn't have subtitles, so I have no idea what it's saying, which is really annoying.

The mouse goes from useless to active liability. Love it.

Ruby realizes, apparently for the first time, that she doesn't have her weapon. I want to assume that finding it will be a priority, but none of our current main three seem to have any actual priorities at this point, or at least none they care about enough to show any urgency about fulfilling.

Yang, unsurprisingly, is the best part of the episode, not that this is a difficult achievement in the slightest. She demonstrates her absurd (and sexy) physical strength by carrying a rock, this episode, and the weight of her massive balls all at once despite having one arm. You go, girlboss.

Paying attention during the flanking scene, there's a very visible gap in the formation where Ruby's supposed to go. I bet that not being able to participate in combat is not exactly doing great things to her mental state.

The Jabberwalker runs away pretty quick. It feels more like a warning system, or maybe a white blood cell, than a major threat (or maybe trained and Aura/Semblance-empowered Huntresses are just super powerful in comparison to the Ever After). I bet it'll be a recurring problem in this Volume, maybe getting stronger or smarter with every encounter.

I liked that Ruby was running up to Yang and getting ready to greet her until Yang reacted negatively, and I really like that Yang wasn't happy to see Ruby and her other teammates. First Yang thought she died, then she saw Ruby and the others and thought she'd died for nothing. It makes perfect sense that she's not happy right now.

(Side note: I think the Yang Curse Count is up to 3? all under extreme emotional duress. Still not on board with fanworks that portray her as swearing like a sailor. She'd be a better example for her little sister, I guarantee it)

"If you thought we wouldn't come for you, then you must have forgotten who raised me" Ruby what the fuck are you talking about? Were you just going to yeet yourself into the void if you'd won the battle? There was no possible reason for them to think Yang is even alive. They don't know they're the protagonists of a web cartoon. They don't know they have plot armor. To them, Yang was fucking dead. What could following her on purpose even have accomplished besides introducing them to whatever's at the bottom of the abyss at terminal velocity?

That said, I do like the acknowledgement that Yang raised Ruby. That's very important to both characters and I'm really glad someone finally said it out loud. Maybe this'll finally put the "Yang is a bad sister" allegations to rest (jk the people who believe that could be confronted with all the evidence in the world and it wouldn't change a thing).

The Bumbleby reunion feels kinda weird, I was expecting a bit more than a tackle-hug, but it's sweet overall and I at least dislike it less than the rest of the episode. I took a screenshot here for the sake of making a stupid meme but I don't like this show enough to post it anymore.

Would be real nice to know how Yang got from where she started to where she is now and I think we’ll see some of that, but given how rushed the reunion feels, I’m not confident.

Love the way Yang thinks she’s dead and is still ready to throw hands, really shows us who she is and that she can’t be broken. Truly the Woman Of All Time.

Would be interesting to explore the ramifications of this but I honestly doubt we will.

Weiss is still the one most visibly affected by the battle on Rainbow Road, I like the way this has been very consistently a point of emotional turmoil for her over the course of this episode. Would love to see that continue throughout the rest of the Volume.

Ruby's fainting is interesting. It's nice to see her have an actual emotional response now and just kind of shut down. I've seen debate about whether her team cared for her properly. Some people say that the team did what they should have and put her in the recovery position, but I think they're missing the point a bit. Even assuming I trust the writers to know what should be done for someone who faints (which I don't), that isn't knowledge the general audience can reasonably be assumed to have, so they needed to find a more obvious way to convey that WBY were concerned about Ruby and took steps to make her safe and comfortable. Either have a scene somewhere earlier in the show (maybe back at Beacon, or somewhere in Volume 7) where the team learns first aid or convey the fact that they're taking care of Ruby more effectively.

Notably, it’s Yang who’s right next to her and who shows concern - she immediately asks if Ruby's all right once Ruby starts speaking. Bad sister tho amirite?

Doesn't really help that they start discussing the situation before Ruby wakes up. I can see why people say WBY don't care about her or her input here, but I think this is just clunky pacing more than anything. The fact that the conversation continues while Ruby’s asleep means we don’t see how anyone else reacts to Penny’s death or the events in the liminal zone, which is kind of annoying. This is starting to feel like another "only one character gets to react to things" event like we had with Pyrrha's death almost exclusively affecting Jaune.

Still hate Penny’s death but it seems the narrative wants us to believe that Penny made the right choice and there was no better option.

Like how Blake takes charge, this is a huge bit of development for her, though I worry that seeing Blake essentially usurp her role is going to hurt Ruby when she's already fragile. NGL when I saw that sunbeam hit Blake I thought they'd fucked up the lighting lol.

Blake saying she thinks we’re in a fairy tale would hit better if the Ever After wasn’t based on an Earth fairy tale and also if we knew more about Remnant’s fairy tales. Yes, the spinoff thing exists, but I don’t want to have to do fucking homework to understand a fundamental aspect of the show.

(I've actually heard that this fairy tale isn't even in the fucking spinoff, which means it got introduced last Volume with like 1 fucking conversation that told us nothing useful. This isn't setup, MKEK. Build this element into the story properly if you want to use it, especially if this Volume was supposedly "planned from the beginning" or whatever the fuck.)

OP is mediocre by RWBY standards which means it's decent but not particularly good by other standards. Say what you will about this series, but the music always slaps.

Overall this episode kind of sucks and in fact made me not want to watch the rest of the Volume until I got fed up with seeing spoilers I had no context for on my dash. This is the first time I can remember that I've watched a RWBY season premiere and not wanted more. That's how bad it was. Can't believe we waited two years for this.

Overall rating: ASS/10

[gibbearish]

alrighty im doing my best to reply relatively nicely because while your response is so deeply fucking condescending and rude that I would be justified in immediately blocking you just for being an asshole, it's also clearly coming from a place of misdirected frustration over your husband's job struggles so im trying to give you the benefit of the doubt

nowhere did i say that i expect internet employees to work for free to serve Me Specifically or that they "don't deserve to pay their bills", that is something you projected onto this. yes, i do believe the internet should be free, AND i believe the employees should be able to live, and i think a system that makes that impossible is indeed fucked up and am allowed to express a desire to want a better one. you said "you can bemoan capitalism but it is the structure we currently reside in" as a cop out but like. yeah, it is the system we currently reside in, and i do think that sucks ass so yeah i am gonna complain about it, that's what this post is, it's me bemoaning capitalism. i'm sorry that in your brain that translated to "the other victims of capitalism don't matter to me as long as i get out on top" but once again that is your projection, not what i said.

and yeah, you're right, even if it's not what i was doing the revolution doesn't start by demanding free labor of others. you know what else doesn't start the revolution though? saying anyone who is frustrated with the way things work now is inherently selfish and infuriatingly self centered just for wanting things to be free. when you say "yes capitalism is bad but theres nothing we can do about it so don't complain about the way things are" you are the crab trying to pull me back into the bucket, you said i "want to be the rich capitalist myself" but of the two of us, only one of us is arguing to keep around the whole "everything must cost money" thing here and it sure isn't me lol

like overall i think the lens youre looking at this post through is "this is my husband's job, it's what he's paid for, therefore anyone saying they want it to be free is saying he shouldn't be paid, and therefore they are advocating for money to be taken directly from us so that they can live it up like kings" which is an understandable pov but takes a LOT of leaps. now to be fair i didnt actually include an asterisk on the post saying i aggressively support UBI and even further think the entire concept of money and paying for ANYTHING should be destroyed so that employees wouldnt HAVE to work at all, but i also think autofilling that nonexistent asterisk with "by the way i don't think anything else about the world should change, just that internet employees should work for free to serve me personally:)" is a big stretch. and to be fair i think at some point you realized thats what i was saying which is why you added in all the "you can be mad but its The Way Things Are soooo" caveats, the system sucking is such an obvious answer that in order for me to still be the villain trying to personally steal your husband's money, you have to preemptively cut it off. which is even funnier considering in the post you say "What do you mean free? For whom?" and then continue as if i had responded "for me and me alone, let the peasants be crushed beneath my heel on my way to ad free youtube" without stopping to think i might just maybe possibly mayhaps have meant free for everyone. so to be perfectly clear:

- i think the internet should be free for everyone

- i think housing should be free for everyone

- i think food should be free for everyone

- i think money should not exist at all

- i think capitalism is evil

- i think no one should have to work to survive and want all work to be voluntary

and finally:

- i think your husband should like. join a union or get a better job so that you're not so stressed about it that you take a random post very personally and proceed to be excessively rude and condescending to the poster while completely misunderstanding the point they were making.

what's interesting abt all this too is despite all the excuses you make for capitalism here, that's really where this anger should be directed. me making a silly one paragraph tumblr dot com post is not the cause of your husbands shitty pay or shitty hours or shitty work conditions, capitalism is. but as you said we can't really /do/ anything about capitalism individually so it's much easier to want to direct your anger at something different, and "blogger who said a thing that sounds kind of like 'your husband shouldnt be paid while everyone else still is' if you squint really hard" is as good a target as any so i do get it to a certain degree. again, SUPER couldve done without the intense condescension about how fucking dumb and selfish do i have to be to dare to want free stuff, but i can at least see how you got from point A to point B

anyways. tldr no i do not think society should be divided into "the rich people with free everything" and "the unpaid peons who suffer and die to make the rich ppls stuff free" nor is that what i said, and "that's just the way capitalism is" is not the bulletproof shutdown you seem to think it is. i know that's just the way capitalism is, that's why i want it to change. i think that's a reasonable desire even if i personally can't just snap my fingers and fix it, and trying to shut down arguments for ways things could be better with "but thats not how things work right now" is actively detrimental to progress because it's saying we should just lay down and accept the current circumstances rather than making a fuss. you can do that if you want, however you cannot demand other people do the same (see what i did there)

love when ppl defend the aggressive monetization of the internet with "what, do you just expect it to be free and them not make a profit???" like. yeah that would be really nice actually i would love that:)! thanks for asking

[nineslover222]

I have no mouth & I must scream

Forgotten, my body is laying on the gurney, two slits in my neck to hose out the blood. Damn. It appears I’m bleeding out alive! Oh my Atlanta! My stupid head is upside down! There’s a pretty woman with long black hair however, so who am I to label this as a dreadful situation! Ms.Banshee (this is her name I’ve decided,) runs her fingers by my neck, properly adjusting the tubes. My body feels like I’ve stuck it against a waterfall! How serene. Ah the pain of feeling dry. Squeezed out by a banshee doing her dishes for I am a sponge. Roses stain me and her hands! What a fine wine I make. To my disappointment, Ms.Banshee is gone and so is my libido. Blue light fancies me instead and I roll my eye. Half of me is scarred by fire and I’ve managed to lose an eye after 109 years, arguably this computer is shit. Imagine destroying humanity and you pick me as 1 of 6 to keep in a sex dungeon! There is nothing to destroy? Once again, computers. It’s to my great pleasure that I don’t have to explain the situation since Ted has already. I will state that I do not like Ted though. I don’t actually quite like anyone here. Anyone as in what’s left of these people. Which is fine, because no one likes me and I get that fact out in tears later. At first this whole thing sucked but I’ve gotten quite used to this. Lucky me! Lucky me! My nerves are fried and the psychology that follows my brain is etched in! Little computer wouldn’t have fun without me anyways! I’m a court jester ya ta da ta da! Or a suck up. Another reason I’m not lyked. I do AM’s job for it. I’m basically employee of the month here. Employee of 109 years.

“Who are you talking to?”

“What.”

“God you’re fucking crazy.”

“Blah Blah I crazy.”

“DONT MAKE REFERENCES.”

“This computer am i right? Ah I have no skin. Now I can see if there’s anything underneath!” Nimdok sighs in a very nazi way.

I throw up. My stomach twists and reminds me of my mom. The bile lands on Gorristor’s shoes and I can already tell he is not amused. My eyelids flicker as I remain humorous. AM pretends to not lyke me but I’m aware of its superficial love for me. Not that AM didn’t attempt to take this from me, in rather depressing manners. But usually AM doesn’t give up on these types of things, I am an exception. I throw up confetti. An unpleasant rainbow sprinkle pile mixed with yellow and clear fluid settles between the rusty metal panels. I wipe my mouth with the bottom of my shirt and lay on the heated metal. The mixture a bit too close to my head. I cook on the metal like a pork chop on a frying pan. My eyes blink slowly, luckily for me i guess it doesn’t take much to make me miserable. My mind already deteriorates at the comparison of myself to a slab of edible flesh. If AM were to attempt to go much further in this area, it’d break me. Which is arguably no fun to fix. It takes time and AM is impatient. Something I’ve also picked up. This drives the other five mad, which I’m sure makes AM happy in some way. As much as I love playing Jester it comes at a tragic cost, I shrug. Staring at the floor besides me and talking to the banshee. Her gross nails stabbing into my muscles. I welcome the pain. AM is cruel but giving me the banshee woman is what gives me the last sliver of sanity. Which is right where AM wants me, standing on a sharp point forever balancing between utter nonsense & meaning. My throat burns and a bloody bile batter spills from the corner of my mouth. Slightly from my nose as-well. Whatever. I don’t have the energy to roll my eye but I stare at hers. The patterns around me shift and I feel sick again. Stuck on a conveyor belt that doesn’t know which way to go. Still and stuck on every axis at the same time. AM understands kinetic energy and time is a cruel concept made up by humans. I stare at a broken clock that randomly decides when it’s not broken. The border of it forms a wallpaper that’s been there since the 60s. I hit the wall and crack several teeth. Sometimes I wonder what this all looks like from the other 5’s point of view. Sometimes I can see. It’s rather comical. I truly am a jester with hooks coming from the inner skeletal system. Stringed up to nothing. Yet moving accordingly. My body has never been mine and will never be. I’ll never even know who owns it either.

Despite my adventures, sometimes I get a glimpse of what’s going on else where. Not that that window was even worth opening. It’s better to stay inside with the banshee and sandpaper that scores its body system of choice. Staring at a blue screen that looks like someone I once knew. This channel sucks. The TV laughs, I’m glad at least someone is enjoying this. Because whoever wrote the plot of this show must’ve been a sadist. That’s what the others say at least. But when I get on my knees and grasp the side of the box, I only manage to see my own disgusting reflection. Eyes that are hollowed in and stare. I smash my head in my sanctuary and the glass lobotomizes me. A fatal flaw in coding. The truth is, I didn’t last 109 years. I managed to last 1. Disappointing I know. Sorry, a jester with suicidal thoughts isn’t a good pet. AM knew this, just another reason to hate humans. Weak. Perhaps a mercy killing.

[campbluelake]

hell in a cell

Black and red streak past the group at blinding speed. There’s no time to redirect your attention from the demon, but there’s also no need; with a familiar angry screech, Max barrels into Vual with enough force to send them both rolling across to the ground, abruptly cutting the duke’s words short.

“Enough.”

Guess Mothman’s not a fan of evil monologues.

“Fiend– Pest– Worm–” There is nothing human in the voice that berates Duke Vual, nor of the accompanying screeching and roaring to come from both parties as they thrash and struggle against each other. “Sniveling, cowardly, vile thing–”

The demon breaks himself free of claw and talon, and appears further disheveled and off-balance. His suit no longer pressed and form beginning to show signs of injury, he lets out a growl and prepares for a battle with beings of his own size. Max roars again, eager to take advantage of the opportunity Malyce has afforded him.

But already, the smallest trace of blood can be seen matting a portion of Max’s fur from just this initial altercation. Vual’s not exactly weak. So before he pursues the duke further–

“With me, Niko.”

The lack of hesitation makes it seem he is fully confident that one of Hell’s pencil pushers can even the odds. (Because he is. For some reason.) Instead of waiting for any confirmation, Max takes off at high speed to throw himself at the demon again.

“...Eh?”

Niko, left standing alone when Max flies off, sort of awkwardly points at himself. 

“I’m– you know I’m not allowed to do that, right? I swear I explained this, I can’t fight a demon like that or I’ll super turbo die, I’ve already been stretching the rules–”

One of Hell’s pencil pushers is evidently far less confident in his ability to contribute to this fight than Max is on his behalf. Clearly unsure of what he should be doing, his wings flap uselessly once in a facsimile of Max’s much cooler departure and his hand tightens on the handle of his scythe. 

…And then the pendant he’s been wearing this entire time starts to pulse with a dull red light. He startles, blinking and then reaching down to pick it up, the confusion evident on his face. His clawed thumb digs into the side of it, where a visible hinge has appeared, and it pops open like a compact mirror. In fact… if you look closely, it is nearly a compact mirror, a red eye glowing and reflected on the top half. Niko frowns and then brings it up closer to his mouth. 

“...Sir?”

His voice takes on an undertone that hurts your ears slightly as he speaks into it, but the voice that pipes out in return is far worse in this regard, burning in the way you now know demonic voices to. It’s also worse because it’s, hm… how to put this… a bit annoying.

“Nicky! Hey, I’m sure you’re busy and all, but this is much more important than all that, so, hey–”

Niko already looks exhausted. “I am busy, sir.”

“Yes, I said that, now, you know, things are really exciting down here! I hope you have all your reports filed– well, of course you do, you wouldn’t slack like that, ha-ha! That’s why you’re my favorite, Nicky! Anyway, anyway, you know Vual?”

“Yes, I know V–”

“Of course you know Vual! Well, thanks to whatever’s been going on up there, we’ve finally decided that he’s gone too far and we’re going to make a move– so guess who’s going to coooooourt~!”

“Gee, sir, I’m not–”

“Ha-ha, not me, of course! Him! Anyway, that means restrictions are temporarily broken as we’ve got a warrant out for him, and you can’t be that busy, so do you think you could go round him up? Just add whatever power it takes to your invoices, okay? It shouldn’t be too bad!”

Niko looks wearily up at where Vual is engaged in combat with Max. Wearily, but also with a hint of confusion. And also wariness. He has to fight that? He’s a fucking salaryman. It’s not like he doesn’t want to get some revenge for his… friend, though. 

“You’ve got it, sir. I’ll do my best.”

“Of course you will, Nicky! That’s why you’re my favorite employee! Oh, by the way–”

Niko promptly hangs up before who you presume must have been the Barbatos you’ve heard mentioned a couple of times can go off on another tangent. He sighs and spins his scythe into a more ready position. 

“Okay, never mind, guess I’m fucking– allowed to do that after all, Max!”

His form ripples into a pool of shadow, dissolving into the ground and ripping across the grass to where Max and Vual fight. When he reforms, it’s with fangs bared and a slash of his scythe at the duke. 

[agentnamed-gone]

I'm going to complain about my day (and my dad) because this is my blog and I can. If you don't want to see this, you can black list my OOC tag.

I am going through some EXTREME autistic burn out, possibly Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Hence why I haven't been here much in the past week, I literally do not have the energy to do anything. Just typing this right now is a Herculean feat.

Regardless, no one in my immediate circle cares and keeps saying things like 'just go to bed earlier!' When quite literally IT DOES NOT MATTER HOW MUCH SLEEP I AM GETTING, I COULD SLEEP FOR THREE DAYS UNINTURRUPTED AND I WOULD STILL BE EXHAUSTED!

On top of that, they expect me to still function and you know talk because and I quote: "You're just tired, you just gotta push through it."

AUTISTIC BURN OUT/ CFS (because it can be both, the two are linked). CAN AND WILL PERMENATELY DISABLE ME IF LEFT UNCHECKED FOR TOO LONG. BUT YOU DON'T GIVE A FUCK, YOU JUST WANT ME TO MASK 24/7 (also bad for my health as I have tried to explain but again you don't give a flying fuck.) AND BE QUOTE UNQUOTE "NORMAL". SO I WILL NOT BE GETTING THE REST I DESPERATELY NEED, BECAUSE YOU CAN'T JUST FUCKING LEAVE ME ALONE!

So, I go to work, with zero energy and find out today that because we have no work for the temps/new employee we just fucking hired we're going to be training them on how to do the electronic jobs! Great, only I am the sole person today working on one specific job because the other person is only part time and today is their day off. Not a problem right? It's not like we are woefully behind on this job because the system is broken as fuck and barely works and you only have ONE person on this job.

Oh wait, that's exactly what it's like.

So instead of letting the ONE PERSON WHO IS DOING THE JOB GET ON WITH THEIR WORK OR I DON'T KNOW, STICKING SOMEONE ELSE WHO IS ALSO TRAINED ON HOW TO DO THIS JOB, ON THE JOB SO THAT WE DON'T FALL EVEN FURTHER BEHEIND. WE'RE JUST GOING TO SAY "FUCK YOUR NUMBERS AND YOUR PRODUCTIVITY, YOU GOT TO TRAIN THE NEW EMPLOYEE ON HOW TO DO THIS SPECIFIC JOB BECAUSE WE HIRED THEM AND HAVE NOTHING FOR THEM TO DO!"

And of course, because they're new at this job, what would only take me a couple hours takes for fucking ever (I get it, they're new, nothing against them. Speed comes with time.) AND those big batches of like 40, 50 documents? Yeah I can't touch those and do them because I have to train the newbie, and I know for a fact the bigger the number of documents in a batch is the more complicated that batch will be.

I'm already struggling to teach this person how to do the job, because guess what? I don't teach! There is a multitude of reasons why I am not working in a school as a History teacher right now. the biggest one being I DON'T FUCKING KNOW HOW TO EXPLAIN MYSELF CLEAR ENOUGH TO TEACH ANYONE ANYTHING!

SO HERE I AM BURNED THE FUCK OUT, SO I PASS OUT AFTER DINNER, WAKE UP AT LIKE 10 PM TO SEE I MISSED A CALL FROM MY DAD, HE WOULDN'T FUCKING TELL ME WHAT WAS WRONG, WHICH MADE ME PANIC BECAUSE MY BRAIN INSTANTLY GOES 'WHO FUCKING DIED?' SO I DIDN'T SLEEP AT ALL LAST NIGHT BECAUSE I WAS FREAKING THE FUCK OUT.

GUESS WHO FUCKING DIED! SOME AUNT I DON'T KNOW, HE CALLED TO TELL ME SHE DIED, I HAVE NO IDEA WHO THIS WOMAN IS! (We have a BIG family, don't judge me) HE THEN PROCEEDS TO TELL ME THAT THIS AUNT I DON'T KNOW FROM ADAM WAS NOT A NICE PERSON BUT I SHOULD TOTALLY GO TO THE VISITATION ON WEDNESDAY.

TLDR: I'm too burnt out to function, my job sucks, and I had a panic attack because my dad couldn't just text me that Great Aunt whats-her-face died.

[autisticrosewilson]

The best part about working the night shift is that she can play whatever she wants over the speakers. Regardless of what her fellow employee thinks of it.

"Your music taste is ass." Volans, because he's decided to show up tonight, complains from somewhere behind her.

"Nah," the doors chime as someone enters, "I stole my music taste from my dad, so his music taste is ass." Greta corrects.

"Fuck." Volans huffs, and she hears the sound of him rooting around in the register, annoyed and resigned.

Are they getting robbed? It's like the second time this month. Not cool.

And her taser is in her purse, which is in her locker. Doubly not cool.

She doesn't get further than contemplating the switchblade in her boot before the perpetrator rounds the corner of the drink aisle where she was wiping down the counter.

"oh," she blinks, takes in the distinct armor but lack of (drawn) weapon, "hey D." She moves out of the way of the coffee machine. "You gotta wait a minute for me to restock the cups." She informs him.

He nods, silently, and she can feel his gaze more intently than usual when she turns back to the front counter.

"Those new?" He calls just as she's about to leave his line of sight. She glances down when he points, blinking down at the thrifted cowboy boots she'd taken the liberty of bedazzling.

She preens, doing a little half twirl that better shows off the stars and makes her skirt swish. "Yup, did the pattern myself." She informs him gleefully.

"Hn." Is the only response she gets, but she doesn't let it get to her. She wouldn't have made it this far if she lost her nerve over silent dismissal.

She skips off over to her confounded coworker, who absently hands her the paper cups. "Who's your friend...?" Volans trails off, standing on his tip toes to see over the shelves.

Greta can see him just fine, but then she's taller than average even for a guy. "That's Deathstroke. I call him D. He likes large black coffees with 13 espresso shots." She explains.

"...13? Literally who needs that much?" His face scrunches, mostly in disgust.

"I dunno, pretty sure he has superpowers or somethin' though so maybe that's why." She shrugs as she tears open the plastic

"Maybe." Volans concedes, resting his chin on his palm as he watches her head back to the hot drinks.

Greta stacks them in their piles, biggest to smallest, and then steps out of the way to grab the broom leaning against the wall nearby.

It's silent for a moment before the ad changes to one of the songs on her ✨Cuntry Music💅 playlist and she grins, humming quietly to the Jonny Cash song.

"Next song is my choice." Volans complains.

She hums louder, politely choosing to ignore him.

"They're...neat." Deathstroke speaks up.

Greta blinks, taking a moment to figure out what he's referring to before it clicks. "Uh, thanks." She smiles at him awkwardly.

He does this sometimes, gives her almost-compliments and does subtle-enough-check-ins and she's never quite sure how to handle it. She doesn't think it's flirting, at least she hopes not. It just reminds her...

It makes her itch to pick up her phone. Makes her long to unblock the number she couldn't bring herself to delete.

He probably wouldn't even answer, it would just be her and his voicemail. He probably hasn't even changed it since she left.

...But maybe he has. It's been so long since she's heard from anyone back home.

The song ends, and there is nothing left to sweep. She blinks up at Volans when he teases her about something or other, probably another dig at her playlist. "Huh? Uh, yeah." She laughs it off, trying to shake off the lingering urge to just grab her phone and call the house phone. See who picks up and deal with the consequences later.

"You good...?" Volans studies her, concern evident in the lines of his face.

"Yeah, he just reminded me of somethin' is all. Don't mind me." She assures him, looking around. Deathstroke is gone already, she expected as much.

Volans nods slowly. "If you say so." He allows her to avoid the question, something she's immensely grateful for.

"So what song 're ya playin' that's so much better 'n mine?" She drawls sarcastically.

"Greta, princess, you're gonna fuckin love white girl music."

It's been exactly 25 minutes since she clocked in for work. Which means that it's 10 minutes until her first regular will show up, and 15 until her favorite regular will show up.

The man who walks through the door is neither of these people, for all that he is kind of a regular. Deathstroke the Terminator, someone she'd only ever heard about in stories until she started working the night shift last month. He's not as heroic as the legends made him seem, but the world is rarely so ideal a place.

Greta is not disappointed, she does not need heroes anymore.

She watches idly as he fills a large paper cup with black coffee and an ungodly amount of espresso, more than she's probably allowed to let him take legally. Not that she's going to tell fucking Deathstroke how he should make his coffee.

The smell reminds her of muted arguments and tense breakfasts.

She drags her attention from the seam of her acrylics when he awkwardly places the cup in front of her. "You move real quiet for someone in bulky metal armor." She comments without thinking. She scans the cup but doesn't bother adding all the espresso to the total.

He slides her a fifty. "You should pay better attention to your surroundings." He advises. His voice is too gruff to be natural, like he's trying to disguise it.

"You should invest in a voice changer instead of fuckin up your throat." She retorts, methodically going through the register for the extra change.

The fabric of his mask shifts like he's smiling but she can't quite tell. He blocks her from sliding the rest of the money to his side of the counter. "Noted. And keep the change."

Well, she's not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and it allows her the simple joy of shoving it in her bra. An uncomfortable experience. How do other girls do this? Maybe it's just because she's wearing a push up.

She hears Deathstroke snort before he turns and is gone in a few quick strides. The squeal of tires on asphalt heralds the blue Honda Civic that skids to a stop in front of the store. She glances at her watch, one of the few things she's kept from Before.

Right on time.