#and quit a job you know is killing your spirit

[hayleymarriedjakurai]

mouthwashing x drdt

NOT a situation where im like "ok whit = daisuke" no. this is a different situation. their own scenario, trust. XF-Ture Express, despite its reputation for being one of the most reliable delivery services across the galaxy, has a terrible inside system. They have one of the lowest failure rates of the space freighters, being at a whopping 5% chance. Employees are paid a hefty amount, motivated by good working conditions on each ship with quality leisure activities and meal plans. But only the ones who earn it get such treatment. The hierarchy in which employees are forced to participate in never leaves the walls of the building. You do your job right and kill yourself working, you get assigned better ships with better shipments. It is as simple as that. So it is unfathomable when Captain Xander Matthews, considered one of the best, is assigned to a ship that is just barely allowed to launch. The "Fatebringer", is what it is called. It just scraped by inspection and is subpar for an XF-Ture ship, but supposedly it is necessary. Xander's job is not an easy one, but simple enough for someone of his caliber. He is to take this crappy ship, along with a shipment, to the exoplanet where the the better functioning ships are maintained and created. He and his crew will turn in this old junk ship for a sleek, modern one and move the shipment to it. Then on their way back, they will deliver it and return to Earth. Simple, they said. Child's play for a captain with so much experience. So it only makes sense for the best of the best to be assigned with him. Rose Lacroix. Her job is what is called 'the documenter'. She has no real purpose other than to keep track of supplies, as well as record daily minutes regarding every single thing that happens on board that is important to note. Due to her memory, she is considered the best to keep track of large quantities of items/the best to spot minor inconsistencies or things that are misplaced. She only needs to walk around a ship once to get it down properly. She has worked with Xander once before. Arturo Giles. The medic. He is apparently not new to this field despite being so young. He is usually quite unbearable and does not prefer to speak to his fellow employees, as most are deemed "too hideous". Despite his terrible personality, he is undeniably the best medic to have on a long assignment due to his quick efficiency. He claims that one day, the company will realize that he deserves better than what he has. (Despite being named the best medical employee.) He has worked with Rose twice, David once. J Moreno. The best mechanic for any ship, especially one as crap as the Fatebringer. When nothing needs to be fixed, she prefers to help out others if they need it (only if they deserve it, of course.) As much as she would prefer to stay on her own, she knows teamwork always comes first on long hauls. Her true identity is known to the company; they still put her actual name on all official documents and tech. She has to manually hide these things, as well as her ID card. Mariabella Rosales and XF-Ture collaborate a lot for financial purposes. She will advertise them with her existence/commercials/whatever, and they will pay her. And of course, never make J's employment public. If J weren't so good at what she does, they would not have cared. But they really like Mariabella's money so. As of now, Julia Rosales is considered MIA. David Chiem. Xander's co-pilot and good friend. David is usually the morale booster of his crews, always keeping spirits up and energy high despite the monotony of long hauls. He is usually who people will go to for advice or mental health discussions in place of the medic for two reasons: He cannot medically document anything, AND he is just such a fantastic listener! He always knows what to say! Xander and David have lost count of how many shipments they have done together. Teruko Tawaki. The stowaway of the Fatebringer who was not meant to be there. She was never meant to be there.

Teruko is usually assigned co-pilot. She has never worked with anyone else on the ship, so it is unclear whether or not her strange misfortune is known to any of them. Every ship she has ever been on has failed to bring their shipments on time- or at all. She has even seen crew members die in front of her. There have been near crashes, close calls...always when she is there. Nobody can terminate her. She has technically done nothing wrong, and firing her for no reason could mean a lawsuit or her spreading rumors about the company. So when Xander is given his assignment, he can only be dumbfounded when written in pen, he spots it. "Kill Teruko Tawaki. Find a way." And so Teruko is brought onto the ship, unconscious and hidden away. When she awakens, Xander will tell everyone that she is a surprise extra crew member. The excuse is that while she is usually co-piloting, XF-Ture is interested in having Teruko's skills expanded by having her shadowing the best of the best. Teruko, not remembering much, accepts this and trusts Xander. David's true personality is the same in canon: cold, cruel, manipulative. He feels threatened by Teruko's presence. After learning that her usual role is his, his theory is that she snuck onto the ship to prove she is better suited/to get him terminated. He treats her as normal UNTIL the crash. Xander is aware of Teruko's past jobs in vivid detail. He has been given reports, seen the documents...how much happens wherever she goes. He wants to get rid of her as soon as possible to keep the crew safe despite his guilt. Things go smoothly...until he receives word that XF-Ture is done for. It had only been two months, so what happened? The Rosales family suddenly stopped funding them, and everything crumbled after that. Nobody ever realized how much of their funding came from them. Xander felt mild relief. He truly does not want to kill a seemingly innocent woman for the company. After all, if she were truly responsible for any of those terrible things, they would have fired her with no hesitation. There must be a reason why she's still employed. But now they're all out of a job. What does that mean for them? Xander's mental health starts to plummet. Small things on board start to go wrong, and his first paranoid thought is to blame Teruko for being there. He becomes obsessed with reading over the reports from the crews that suffered in her presence. They were right; she's the cause. He confides in David, panicked and drained. Xander was a good man; far too good to kill anyone. Even if the people who told him to do so were technically no longer in charge of them...Teruko still needed to go. There's no reason to do the delivery, and there only thing they can really do is go to the exoplanet to swap out ships for a comfortable ride home. But with Teruko on board, there is no guarantee that they'll even get back to Earth. Xander tells him everything- too much. David decides that Teruko cannot make it back no matter what. Whatever field she gets to next will be riddled with destruction and possibly worse. Everyone here is at the top of XF-Ture, the best in a dead company. It is too late for any of them to climb to the top of another wage slave ladder. So he crashes the ship. Teruko Tawaki must die. If Xander cannot do it, he does not mind staining his filthy hands with more blood. What else happens? Who knows.

[shark-myths]

Did I see you tease a bathtub scene in that tags of that mania q and a post?!?!! Is it going to be in the new angsty fic that's coming in Nov?

oh I sure fucking did! but it wouldn’t be me if there wasn’t a ridiculous wait, so that scene in question—currently taking shape in my notebook—is two fics ahead of my posting schedule. so look forward to that coming in December 😂😂😂 (and thank @nomaptomyowntreasure for the bathtub, it’s her brilliant scheme like everything I’ve been doing lately)

[paymechildsupport]

ᴛᴇᴀᴄʜᴇʀ!Ryomen Sukuna x M!ʀᴇɪɴᴄᴀʀɴᴀᴛᴇᴅ!Reader //“𝗠𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝗲..?”

Request, @zxuii

--- "HI HIII first off, i love your writing style, i actually adore it lol. Second I want to request Teacher!Sukuna x Male!reader that was also a sorcerer from the heian era, a powerful one who gets jealous quite often of the attention Sukuna gets since back in the Heian era the only ones who where close enough to Sukuna was reader and Uraume (Unless Uraume didn't exist in this AU or smth happened) so a lot of fights between them break through since Sukuna isn't good with communication either. You can decide if you want this too be Angst in general or paired with something else i don't mind!! :))"

((I love this <3))

-!! M!Reader (he / him)

-!! Wee bit of angst (he's just a saucy boy) + goofy kinda smut (dunno what kind of style it's called lol)

-!! stuff ain't proofread 🥶

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

･・❥・---------------------------------------------------------------･・❥・

Sukuna remembers you vividly from the past; from that time 1000 years ago. How could he forget? Such a flamboyant character, – power exuded with every step, the earth seeming to shake with every fall of your foot. A wandering swordsman: a rather powerful sorcerer who curiously didn’t belong to any one clan. You’d spend your days traversing the earth, sleeping in the empty shrines near villages, taking commissions and odd jobs from just about everyone– human or not. 

Sukuna found it odd how you didn’t align yourself with the standard belief of sorcerers: you were benevolent to cursed spirits like him, you didn’t have the sudden impulse to exorcize, to destroy. Perhaps it was your lack of loyalty to a clan, or the fact that curses could offer prices just as good– if not better, than humans. Either way, it was quite interesting when you crossed paths for the first time; him, the terrifying, all powerful King of Curses, – four arms and two grotesque faces, towering over you, a humble traveler, – and you just stood there, – smiling, at him, – the rumored monster of Ryomen Sukuna. 

He was absolutely astounded, – had this guy not an ounce of fear? The singlest shred of self-preservation? You should be screaming– running, – begging at his feet for mercy, – not making small talk 

“Nice weather, huh?”

“Excuse me? It’s pouring” 

“Oh, I hadn’t noticed 😋” 

He could sense a staggering amount of cursed energy from you, much more than the average sorcerer– let alone human. 

“Nice jugs btw” 

“???” 

Bud was flabbergasted – he could only watch you walk away with a big grin on your face. Later that evening he had to bring it up to Uruame, who was cooking up the latest harvest of human bones: 

“He said you had a nice chest.” 

“Huh, usually one would think to say that to a woman–” 

“Perhaps the sorcerer thought you were a woman”

“What.” 

Ever since he’s had an affinity for you, a fascination… an obsession. He needed to know everything about you, – your goal, your motives, your desires, your deepest and darkest of fears, – the most depraved of thoughts of this strange sorcerer who had the gaul to compliment his chest like he was some kind of street whore. 

He ran into you the next day at the same village, just as you were about to leave. You acted so nonchalant, like he was just another acquaintance, it was truly fascinating and… dare Sukuna say, endearing. He initially went there to kill you for your audacity from yesterday, yet he ended up only shit-talking the village folk wit you, – the old swordsmith who swore there were devils living in his chimney, - the old woman by the creek who was rumored to drown passerbys in the water next to her tiny abode, - the sleezy thug of a priest who thought it was funny to scam you for cleaning his shrine free of charge (whom Sukuna ended up gutting shortly afterwards). The curse was left to, yet again, return back to Uruame with new rantings of you

(just let them cook in peace 😭)

The next day, a band of those pesky Zenin showed up, – and Sukuna thought the opps were on him again. Turns out, not only were you not apart of any specific clan, but you were also quite unpopular with a majority of sorcerer society. After finding out, Sukuna couldn’t help but rush to your aid, determined to cleave the gang of sorcerers in half for trying to harm such an interesting specimen of his. Imagine his utmost surprise to find them not only beat upon his arrival, but diced up and dead on the forest floor, too. 

He was beyond impressed: a seeming clanless nobody such as yourself had chopped down about a dozen of one of the most powerful sorcerers of the time. You saw him staring from afar, waving and flashing that stupidly charming smile of yours. Sukuna couldn’t help but invite you back with him, the dozen dead bodies in tow 

Uruame cooked up a mighty fine dinner that night, one the three of you enjoyed together (yum, human flesh). From that day on you were part of the gang: you, Sukuna, and Uruame. Most days you would be off for up to months at a time, simply doing your own thing, going town to town. Whenever you’d run into your good pal as he was burning down the latest village you’d make sure to have a nice catch up over a warm meal (cooked by Uruame)

You and Uruame got along, – they liked the fact that you could often cook together, Sukuna– being useless as shit in the kitchen – was barred from helping lest he incinerate everything 

But alas, you were mortal, fickle; temporary, – and no sooner did you come into his existence were you cruelly ripped from him, – finally effectively jumped and killed. 

Sukuna almost couldn’t believe it: you never lost- you weren’t supposed to lose, but you did. You fought valiantly, taking an impressive number down with you. In the skirmish, Uruame disappeared, Sukuna was reduced almost to dust,-- miraculously he survived, albeit incredibly weak. They sealed a majority of his power away in his severed fingers. 

Now, weakened immeasurably and down a pair of arms, – momentarily without his chef and darling sorcerer, Sukuna had a change in heart

No longer did he want to be the bad guy, he wanted to be good, to help others, – to help the future of jujutsu sorcery (nah, that’s some bullshit, he just wanted to continue being fed, and he could only be if he became a teacher in sorcery, lol) 

—----

Flash forward to modern day… 

—---

Seeing you once again, reborn, was a complete whiplash for Sukuna. 

You recognized him immediately, obviously, – he was your man after all <3 (even if he denied it) 

Poor baby had to physically restrain himself when he saw you back to kicking ass as a modern day jujutsu sorcerer, having not changed an ounce since he last remembered you

You miss his four arms, – almost more than Sukuna did. It disappointed Sukuna to see you disappointed with his lack of arm power. Still, he only needed two arms to absolutely destroy you--

After the incident with Yuji Itadori accidentally consuming one of his fingers (which made Sukuna livid– blud has been sweating and grinding to get those fingers back, and to find out some random goofy ahh kid decided to munch on one? And they wanna give him MORE??) – Sukuna has been absorbed more than ever into his work. 

You adore his students, – especially Megumi, Nobara and Yuji – (much to Sukuna’s dismay) and oftentimes will stop by his lessons just to bug him in front of them 

You were still the same insufferable charmer as before, shamelessly batting your eyes and making crude comments to catch him off guard: 

“Hey cutie ;) “ 

“Hell do you want” he sneers, “wish to be my example for today’s lesson?” 

“Nah, just passing by, – those pants make your ass look fat by the way” 

“What.”

“Toodles !!” 

It infuriated him, much to your delight 

It was different now, back then it was just you and him, Uruame bearing the only witness to your shenanigans. But when you say those things in front of those brats, – the same brats who were taught to fear and despise his kind, who were suppose to be intimidated by him, – it makes his job of maintaining the tough, snide “King of Curses” just that much harder 

Yuji, with all the time he spent with Sukuna as his main mentor, would ask about you frequently: what you were like 1,000 years ago. Whether it was the nostalgia or purely the fact it was you, – talking about it always softened Sukuna’s grueling and harsh belittling. Poor Yuji could only catch a break when Sukuna started saying “Back in my day..”

“Sukuna-sensei?”

“What, brat?” Sukuna paused, casting an unimpressed glare over his shoulder 

Yuji propped his head onto a fist, leaning on the desk in front of him. The empty classroom was dimming with the setting sun, the vibrant colors that always made Sukuna wanna barf invaded through the windows from the sunset, painting the empty classroom a colorful ombre, 

“You said that odd man who likes to hang around you was around 1,000 years ago, right?” 

Sukuna’s eyebrows scrunch in annoyance, “Yes, and?” 

“What was he like? Does he act the same as all those years ago? How’d he get reborn? What was your relationship like?” The curse wanted to punt the kid across the room with all his silly questions. Instead, – knowing you’d dislike it if he hurt Yuji, – he opted to take a deep breath, air hissing through his teeth, before answering, 

“Mm, you brats are so invasive, – the world doesn’t revolve around you selfish vermin.” sighing, “but fine, I’ll entertain whatever silly fantasy you have about me in your head; he was a sorcerer, a pretty damn strong one, too”

“But you didn’t kill him-” Yuji interjects, confused 

“No, I didn’t” 

“Why, were you two good friends.?”

He growled at the quantity of the questions, causing Yuji to scoot back in his seat slightly, 

“No– well, sort of. I’d assume you could say that.” 

“No-? Really? Kugisaki thinks you two are dating” 

Sukuna’s jaw almost drops to the floor, 

“What.” 

“Yeah, – Fushiguro says you two were together back then too, with the way you look at each other”

With the way he-? 

“Was he your like… private prostitute or something?” 

Sukuna has never heard such fuckery before:

“No. – I’d suggest you’d stop wherever you think you’re going with this, brat.” 

“Did you bang though?” 

That threw him for a loop, and Sukuna couldn’t help but wince at the term. “Banging” was a poor choice of words, – such a word couldn’t possibly do what you two did justice. 

No, you didn’t “bang”

Sukuna couldn’t help but be drawn in by you, – your attitude, your carefree-ness, your power, he wanted it all for himself, – which he sometimes did 

Those endless nights of pleasure where’d he just lose himself in you, - your affectionate caresses, your sweet nothings whispered into his ear that cast shivers all throughout. Sukuna was used to hearing praise showered upon his name, – his devotees throwing themselves at his feet to worship the ground he walked on. But he didn’t care for their praise, – not like he did yours. Your kind words were treasured, craved. If only you had been a woman: he would’ve made you a concubine, – no, – his wife. 

—---

His ego is fragile, witnessing you tearing apart his terrifying image horrifies him. 

Unfortunately for Sukuna, you couldn’t stop dotting on your pretty princess :3 It all came to a boiling point when you saw one of his colleagues start to cuddle up just the littlest bit too close: and he just let them. Seeing Mei Mei acting so clingy with the King made something in the pit of your stomach drop. Your envy boiled, sour and ripening into an ugly weed. It was obvious she held no actual affections (because one, – Mei Mei only lives for cold, hard cash, – which Sukuna didn’t really have on him, which was odd— and two, he was way too old for her tastes)

You just couldn’t help yourself, – he was wearing such a tight shirt, it hid nothing. 

“Yo, nice tits”

He was done. You were done sullying his name with your filthy words, – you were done humiliating him. And he made sure you knew that too

He had pulled you into his empty classroom, all the students and staff long gone. Sukuna towered over you, cold glare sending a delicious shivering cascading through your body, 

“Enough.” 

“Eh..?” you wince, your voice sounded all wrong, too high pitch and breathy, “enough of what?” 

Your damn smile again. 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Your humiliation is not appreciated.” 

You scoff, “humiliation?” 

He glares, “silence, brat” he firmly grabs ahold of your chin, forcing it upwards, making you look him directly in those creepy, maroon eyes. 

One moment Sukuna has his emotions underwraps: he’s focused, – locked in, – he’s not going to let something as fickle as human ‘love’ hinder his plans. The more assertive the better, he would not be walked on – but he also didn’t want to accidentally lash out and do something he ends up regretting 

The next thing he knows, Sukuna starts spiraling, 

“You insist on following me, stalking me for over 1,000 years, – it’s pathetic” wait- what? No, he didn’t mean it like that

“--you mortal brats are as measly as ever, it’s no wonder you died to your own kind” pause, no, no, no, no, no….-- what was he doing? He didn’t actually mean that- 

“--killed by fellow sorcerers: pathetic. Dead and reborn, you’re still the desperate mutt crawling back to me..” Stop. Make it stop. Someone stop him. Stop/

“Uruame should be back here instead, seeing you is the biggest disappointment in this millennium” 

Oh.. 

“... fine then.” Your voice is quiet, small. Don’t look at him like that.

Sukuna’s eyes widened, but he couldn't seem to say anything, his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. Instant dread pools into his stomach

“I see how it is. If that’s truly how you feel…” 

“Wait no–” Sukuna starts, immediately tensing up as you lower your eyes onto his. He swallows, hard. He hated the dejected, – the defeated look on your face. You looked so sad, and Sukuna couldn’t bear to see you sad , – something that terrified him to no end, — you terrify him to no end. You elicit the most exotic of feelings within him, reviving his ancient, rotten, worm eaten heart to a thunderous boom. Sukuna is reminded of the times back then: you laying in the field, hand twining in his hair, lightly scraping his scalp, – him sighing in content like an old dog. There would be the half eaten corpse of some unfortunate sorcerer off to the side, and you’d occasionally hand feed one or two limbs to the second mouth on his stomach, tongue out and awaiting like a dog’s for a treat  —Such tender moments, the power you have over him makes him feel weak in the knees. Every instinct within him told Sukuna to run, - to protect himself from this threat that was your adoration. The thrill gnawed at him from the inside, – but oh, the ecstasy from it felt so good. 

But he was Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses – he couldn’t face having such an open weakness – taking on a lover would feel like he had gutted himself, taking away a fundamental aspect of his existence as a character. You just have to keep stoking the flames. , 

… “nevermind, just go. I could care less” 

You do, closing the classroom door behind you, and Sukuna can’t help but feel as if half of his soul leaves with you. This happened every time: he’d push you away, only to immediately regret it, craving deeply for your validation. 

Shit, seems like he really did have a lot to learn when it came to such fickle human emotions.

He’d make it up to you, – he always did. 

—-------

You were the only one to bring him to his knees, the only deity the King would bring himself to worship , – and what a divine thing you were. 

Those nights of infinite passion, – you underneath him, (and occasionally him under you–)  he’d take you with the utmost care. Ryomen Sukuna has never been “gentle” with something, – let alone with another living individual, – but with you his touches were always so attentive, so skillful and purposeful. He never wanted to hear you scream in anything but pure pleasure. 

On the most precious of those nights, you’d coax the sweetest of noises from his lips. You could’ve sworn he has whimpered, despite his firm denial. 

You were his God. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

A/N: thank you for the request <3

[evilminji]

You know that Post about Danny becoming the False Villian, Expose?

To train all these kids, who are running around with shitty priorities and the self preservation instincts of lemmings? Because they were arrogant. Didn't listen to the concerns of those they "protect". Didn't listen to the concerns of a fellow Hero. So now, they WILL learn, at the hands of a "Villian".

Cause he TRIED pointing things out nicely.

Was met with a brick wall of condescension and dismissal.

THAT post.

You know where he would not only do that, but go APESHIT into it? Because he is a Hero and holy SHIT these kids are gonna get themselves killed? Gonna kill somebody ELSE? Have fucked up priorities and live in a fucked up system they do not even question?

Boku No Hero Academia.

Why the FUCK are you posing for the cameras? Why the absolute FUCK are you beating that man down on the worst day of his life, instead of TALKING him down? Why are you jumping too conclusions and splitting up and playing for the crowds? Why. The ABSOLUTE AND UNFORGIVING FUCK do you seem to ASSUME that every innocent soul, that doesn't look default generic human, is the AGGRESSOR in every situation you arrive at?!

Danny would have a conniption. Just a full body rage seizure, as his Ghost-y lil brain LIT UP with the BURNING NEED to fix everything, everywhere, at once. Right. Now.

But do they listen?

Ha!

Cool, cool cool cool cool..... he's gonna burn the entire country dow- No! That way lies Dan! Breathe, Fenton. Just.... Breathe. You can fix this.

The older ones may be set in their ways, but the younger ones are still learning. They can get better. BE better. They're kids. They just need opportunities to grow. And they WANT to be Heros, right? All he has to do is show them HOW. Poke their weak spots and point out their mistakes.

He can do that!

And just? Out of NO WHERE? This foreign villian decends upon Japan? What's worse, seeming to TARGET HEROS STUDENTS. Young, just debuted, Heros. Everyone freaks out. Older Heros closing rank, where they can, to try and Protect These Kids(tm).

But they can't be everywhere at once.

And this menace? Seemingly CAN be. Can make copies of himself. Use Ice. Fly. Energy beams. Intangiblity. Invisibility! What monster are they DEALING with?! That plays the flamboyant fool, dispensing deadly peril, only to then turn around, and in chilling sobriety absolutely destroy seasoned heroes?

That LECTURES them while doing it.

He's undermining the people's faith in the system!

(But should they have faith in it? Doesn't he have good points? Aren't they getting stronger, faster, better heroes for facing him? Where did he come from? Hasn't anyone else noticed that not a single civilian has gotten hurt, at his hands? That he annihilates any true villians foolish enough to think he's on their side?)

(How many "thugs" and "minor villians" have these guys not noticed, they wonder, who have just... disappeared. Come into contact with this guy and then? Stopped. Turned up somewhere else, weeks later, healthy again. Smiling with illegal lifestyle support gear, a new job, a new life, and better future. Finally free of the violence.)

Amity may be at peace by the time Danny turns 20(-ish? Maybe? Is he? Clockwork! How old IS he? You've sent him on so many of your weird timebend-y missions he lost count!). But? Danny is a Heroic Protector Spirit. His Obsession has demands. And his Human sides Space Obsession will never really be quite strong enough to support him.

You know, since it can't die.

Just because it HAS a Soul aspect to it, doesn't mean it'll ever come into practical use. So? The more powerful Heroic instincts it is! And honestly, he wasn't even planning to STAY. Just check the place out. You know, compare his options. But... *twitch*

They Are Doing It Wrong.

So now he lives here!

.....it's awful! They don't even have any space exploration! No studying, no stars, no futuristic moon base! Nothing! And he doesn't even SPEAK Japanese! In human form? He has no idea what anyone is saying! At least the Sorta-But-Not skeleton Ghost guy across the hall is helping. Dude might be taller then his DAD. Seriously ecto-starved though. It's like he somehow GAVE all his body's ecto to someone else!

How's he supposed to heal like that?! Guy really needs to learn how to take care of himself.

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @lolottes @nerdpoe @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation

[imagines--galore]

||The Thread of Fate|| Part Eleven

Summary: Soulmate AU. They say the Thread of Fate connects you to your one true love. It may tangle. It may stretch. But it will never break. Wrapped around your little finger it tightens when it feels your soulmate is close and loosens when they are far. And becomes visible with the colors of your soulmate’s Nation when you finally fall in love with them.

Pairing: Zuko x OroraOC (ATLA)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure.

Previous Chapters - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten,

A/N: Omg I had such a HUGE influx of readers for this story, and I am grateful to each and every one of you for reading my story! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and all the others I will be writing in the future.

Working at the tea shop was Orora's first time at a job. She was just as green to it as Zuko was. However, she did not voice her disgust at the notion every few seconds. She was eager to learn, and ready to earn her living. As much as she appreciated the money Iroh had given her, she wanted to contribute to their financial situation as well.

The first day had been busy. There had been the different types of teas she had to learn to brew, other then the ones she already knew thanks to her Master. Then there were dishes to wash almost constantly. Not a lot of customers had come in that day, Pao having closed the shop early to allow his new employees to get to know their work place, so it hadn't been as tiring as she had thought it would be.

What Orora found she liked to do, was wash the dishes. She got to play with water and bubbles, and it helped calm her. Strange, she knew, but after so many days of being on the run, doing something as simple as washing dishes was oddly calming. Not to mention the job allowed her mind to roam and ponder over things she had not allowed herself to for quite some time now.

As she set aside one of the more expensive looking cups, the young waterbender sighed softly through her nose.

So far the truce she had offered Zuko seemed to be working. Though it had only been a few hours since it had been put into effect. And they'd only managed to snap at each other twice. True after the second time Iroh had seen the wisdom in separating them by giving them jobs to do at different ends of the shop. Zuko worked the front, taking orders and such, while Orora washed the dishes in the back.

Picking up a plate and dunking it in the soapy water, Orora continued to let her thoughts wander and ask the questions she wished she could say out loud.

Such as why were Zuko and Iroh fugitives of the Fire Nation? They were royalty, surely the Fire Lord would want his brother and son back. And did Zuko's sister truly want to kill her own Uncle? That thought sent a shiver down her spine. But what about their mother? Didn't she have a say in all of this? Was she treated just like Orora's mother was treated?

She had so many questions, and more, and all she wanted to do was march right up to Zuko and demand that he answer them.

But something held her back.

Maybe because she was a polite person who didn't go about poking her nose in other people's business.

Or perhaps, more likely, she had no desire to cause Zuko any pain by talking about his past. It was surely a sore subject, from the bits and pieces of information she had collected over the months. Besides, he already had his hands full trying to adjust to living in Ba Sing Se. Orora just wished he would figure himself out faster so she could ask all her questions.

Oh, she could ask Iroh if she wanted to, and her would probably answer, but for some insane reason, she wanted the answers to come from Zuko himself.

Spirit help her but she felt it was the right thing since it was his story.

Memories of every encounter she had ever had with the young prince rose unbidden, yet not unwelcome in her mind, as she started to play with the water not having any more dishes to wash.

It was strange, how someone she had not even known a few months ago was now at the very center of her life. He wasn't all that she thought about, really this was the first time she was allowing herself to think of him to such an extent. Usually she had other things to think about. Such as surviving, learning from her Master, perfecting her water bending techniques, inventing new ways to incorporate ice into her fighting, improving on her combat skills, restocking her medicinal herbs, making sure she didn't loose touch with her healing side, because as much as she liked to put her waterbending skills to use by fighting, she knew healing was a major part of who she was.

All those thoughts were pushed to the back of her mind, as she focused on a pair of golden eyes that seemed to watch her wherever she went, watching her every step. At first she had thought, it was perhaps because he didn't trust her. But slowly, that mistrust in his eyes had faded. Now, when she would catch him looking at her, he would look away.

Then again, who was she to complain. She looked at him and had been caught looking at him by him on multiple occasion.

Her fingers continued to twirl, her gaze listless as she created pretty patterns in the water.

She thought of the night when they had first met, officially at least. When he had tried to rob her. She could still recall every detail with a clarity that surprised even her.

She contemplated on their little sparring session and the conversation after it, how she had encouraged him to find something to live for, to fight for.

She recalled how shocked she had been when she realized his true identity. A prince. An honest to goodness prince. One who couldn't stand her, and who she couldn't stand either.

At least, she thought that was the case.

Her mind conjured the moment where she had first touched his scar. How vulnerable he had looked, and yet he had trusted her enough to not push her away. The way he had protected her when they were at the Oasis. The conversation they had shared while bathing. That one brought a fierce blush to her cheeks. And despite her best effort to move on to the next one, she found the blush only intensifying as she remembered the moment they had shared on the mountain.

Where they had acknowledged that they were soulmates. Where he had gripped her wrist, so desperately and yet so soft. Where she had wandered how his lips would feel against her own. And she was sure he had been thinking the same.

After all, hadn't he leaned forward slightly before the elements of nature had tread on their moment?

So lost in her thoughts, that she didn't even sense as someone else entered her work area and stood next to her. Watching her.

"Uncle says its time to go now."

The voice jolted her out of her thoughts, scaring her so much that she jumped where she stood. Her bending reacted out of instinct, mirroring her startled emotion as her hand shot a splash of water on the figure standing next to her.

"Spirits! You startled me!" She panted, resting a hand above her heart. Zuko glowered at her in return, water dripping from his hair and onto his shoulders. The girl winced, pursing her lips to hide a smile, though it still escaped. She couldn't help it, he just looked utterly ridiculous.

At his warning growl, she couldn't help but giggle. A strange sound since it hardly ever came from her. "Sorry, here." Quickly bending the water, she threw it back into the sink and gave him an apologetic smile. His glare did not let up.

"We're done here for the day. Lets go." He grumbled, before making for the door. She rolled her eyes. Clearly he wasn't too pleased with her little reaction. As he stomped off, she called after him, removing her apron as she went. "I said I was sorry!"

                                          ————————–

Their new home was a small apartment, just big enough for the three of them. As soon as they returned, Orora quickly settled in the middle of the room, wanting to get in an hour of meditation before bed. She crossed her legs, closed her eyes, folded her hands in her lap and evened out her breathing.

Which left Iroh to brew some more tea for them, and for Zuko to lay on the sofa, hands tucked behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling, his mind going over the day's event.

A job. For once in his life, he was actually working for a living. The notion had seemed strange at first, not to mention he had felt that it was beneath him, but what Orora had said was true. They did need jobs if they were to survive in this city.

Reluctantly, his gaze flickered to the water tribe girl as she sat meditating peacefully, oblivious to the effect she had had on him.

Him. Prince of the Fire Nation. Being effected by the words of a commoner.

Or rather, he was being effected by the words of a girl who was his soulmate.

Letting out a silent groan, his hand came up to press the back of his hand against his eyes, as if to physically stop him from staring too long at her. It was starting to get pathetic, just how much he would want her opinion on things.

He wouldn't go so far as to say he wanted her to approve of him, but it was pleasant to have someone else beside his Uncle give him a little wisdom. He spoke of life in riddles and words that were heavy with emotion.

Orora?

She would give it straight to his face. No regard of his feelings, his stand on whatever topic it was. She would just come out and say it.

And he appreciated her for that.

True he never always liked what she said, but sometimes they were the exact words he needed to hear.

Like the talk they had had after their impromptu battle near that lake. He still hadn't found something to live for, or to fight for, but at least he knew that he was looking for something.

Not to mention the fact that he would be ever grateful to her for saving Uncle's life. He would never say it outright, but in that moment he had been so so scared and she had stepped up and healed Iroh. Even after getting to know who they were and the lies she had been led to believe for so long.

And how she had probably saved him that stormy night on the mountain. A moment of weakness on his part, letting his emotions get the best of him, but she'd been there. She'd been where he needed her to be, and had not held back when telling him off for being so reckless.

He had to stop his thoughts there, not wanting to dwell too much on what would've happened if that moment in the rain had gone on any longer.

And then there was the truce. To live together somewhat harmoniously.

Lifting his hand, he looked at her again, watching her face. She looked so calm in that moment, as opposed to the plethora of emotions that always played about her features. Zuko found he was beginning to think of it as a game. A game where he would try to guess what she would feel next, and whether it would effect him in some way.

So far, almost every emotion she felt was directed at him, and though he would never ever admit it out loud, he kind of liked having her attention be on him rather then anything else.

Huffing to himself, as if disgusted with his own thoughts, he rose to his feet, moving to the pantry to see what he could have for dinner.

                                          ————————–

"Orora, my dear." Glancing up from where she had been counting the money of the customer who had just paid, the young waterbender gave Iroh a nod. "Yes Master?"

"We seem to have run out of Jasmine. I have asked Pao and he says to take some money from the till and buy some Jasmine tea from the shop just down the street."

Taking the money, Orora quickly nodded, before rushing to the back of the shop where Zuko was on dish washing duty. Seeing her taking off her apron, he frowned. "Where're you going?"

Straightening her clothes, the girl replied. "Ran out of Jasmine, just going to buy some." She had barely made it to the door when Zuko called out. "Wait, I'm supposed to go with you when you go out into the city."

Orora glanced over her shoulder, rolling her eyes slightly. "Relax Your Highness. Its only a five minute walk, nothing is going to happen to me." She opened the door, moving to step outside, but then she paused.

"Although, it is sweet of you to worry about me." She glanced over at him, a smile on her lips as she caught sight of the obvious flush on his cheeks as he looked at anything but her. "I'll be back soon." She said as a way of promise, before she was out of the tea shop.

It was a five minute walk, and once the goods were secured, the girl began to make her way back to the shop, her heart still warm at the prospect of Zuko actually worrying about her.

Her happy thoughts, however, were interrupted rather rudely when a hard hand grabbed her shoulder, yanking her into a dark alley, covering her mouth with a rough hand.

The instant she felt the unfamiliar hands, she began to struggle and push with all her strength, trying to get away.

"Stop moving!" A voice hissed, a very familiar voice.

Her eyes focused in the dark, and she was able to make out the face of the boy they had met on the way to Ba Sing Se.

The Freedom Fighter, Jet.

Her pale blue eyes narrowed, and a look akin to a cold anger burned in the gaze she fixed him with. "Look I just want to talk, that's all." He said, still not letting up from where he had his hand on her mouth.

She continued to glare at him, even after he had removed his hand, though his other kept an almost painful grip on her wrist. "I'm trying to help you. You're a waterbender, there's no way you would be with those firebenders of your own free will, so they must be keeping you prisoner somehow."

He knows, a voice hissed in her mind, prompting her heart to beat faster in her chest, and an ugly feeling of fear to coil in her stomach. But she didn't let it show.

Instead, she remained the epitome of disgust and anger. "What in the world are you talking about?"

There seemed to be an almost manic look in his eyes, accompanied by impatience, as he dropped her hand, and grabbed her shoulders. "You don't have to lie for them. I'm trying to help you. I just need evidence and then we can end those two firebenders."

End?! Spirits! He wanted to kill Iroh and Zuko.

Shrugging out of his grasp, Orora stepped away, fingers pulling the cork of her water satchel in case she needed to defend herself. "You're out of your mind." She growled at him. Despite the terror she felt at hearing his statement, her instinct to protect her two companions was far potent, which was the reason she was even able to face the boy with murder in his eyes.

"Just admit the truth! They're firebenders! And they deserve to die." He was starting to get frustrated with her. "I don't care what you say, I will find some way to expose them, and when I do, I'll have the pleasure of executing them."

Hearing those words, hearing the tone in his voice, the sheer hatred and anger in his eyes. Something in her snapped.

With a fierce cry she threw her arm out, the movement elegant yet deadly, given that Jet found himself staring at the very sharp ends of multiple icicles that she pointed in his direction.

"This is your first and last warning." She hissed, her voice full of warning. "If you come near them, if you so much as harm a single hair on their head, I will personally see to it that you pay for it." She fixed him with a cold stare. "In blood."

So saying, she turned her back to him, leaving him trapped behind her icicles. They would melt soon enough, though the words Jet called after her as she walked away, echoed in her ears all the way back to the tea shop.

"You would threaten someone who's on your side. You're willing to protect the enemy?! You're a traitor to your own people. A disgrace! You're just like them! A killer!"

                                          ————————–

As soon as she reached the back door of the tea shop, Orora leaned up against the wooden door. Her heart was beating so fast, she was afraid it would somehow burst out of her chest. A stinging sensation behind her eyes told her she was close to tears. Lifting a trembling hand, she pressed it to face, willing herself to calm down.

She had to warn Zuko and Iroh, make sure they were on guard. She couldn't let anything happen to them. They were her friends. She cared about them. Both of them.

Somehow, she managed to calm herself down, slightly, and entered the shop. It had taken her a good fifteen minute to calm down. Grabbing her apron, she tied it behind her in a haphazard manner before rushing out to the front of the shop.

There was Iroh, pouring tea for a customer, with Zuko picking up cups left behind by a previous customer. She all but stumbled forward, catching Zuko's hand, prompting him to look at her, confused and slightly alarmed at her obvious panicked state.

"Orora? Wha-"

But she didn't let him finish. "He knows." She whispered, aware of the other customers around her. "Jet knows." The words were spoken so softly that no one else could ever hear them, and yet Zuko did. Loud and clear.

However, before either of them could talk further on what she had revealed, the door of the shop slammed open and Jet himself walked in. A strangled gasp left her lips, as she caught sight of that murderous look in his eyes once more.

"I'm tired of waiting!" He pointed an accusing finger at both Iroh and Zuko. "These two men are firebenders! And that girl is helping them. She's a traitor!"

Immediately, Zuko pushed Orora behind him, gripping one of her hands to make sure she stayed there. Uncle and nephew exchanged a look which seemed to mirror what the other was thinking.

Play dumb.

"I know they're firebenders, I saw the old man heating his tea!" Jet continued, advancing towards the trio with his hooked swords out of their sheaths. "He works in a tea shop." A nearby customer stated in a rather confused voice, but Jet wasn't having it. "He's a firebender! I'm telling you!"

The same customer stood. "Drop your swords, boy. Nice and easy." Jet ignored him, his gaze never leaving Zuko's as he began to advance towards him and Orora. "You'll have to defend yourself. Then everyone will know. Go ahead, show them what you can do." His gaze flickered to Orora who, previous fear forgotten to be replaced by a burning anger, glared back at him. "Or would you rather have your girlfriend get hurt defending you."

She felt his grip on her hand tighten to an almost painful level. "Zuko, no! He's goading you!" She whispered, even as the previous customer moved to step forward, ready to unsheathe his sword. Zuko simply glanced at her. Her heart dropped to her stomach. She knew exactly what he was about to do.

And sure enough he stepped forward and grabbed the swords the customer had been about to withdraw. "You want a show?" He growled. "I'll give you a show!'

He pulled a table in front of him with his foot and kicked it at Jet, who was quick to slice the table with his swords and jumped over it. As he landed, he swung both hook swords at the Fire Nation prince, who deflected the attack and jumped backward onto another table. Which was again sliced in half by Jet, with a mighty swing of one sword through the middle of the table.

Somehow Zuko managed to balance on one half of the table, on one foot! Jet was unrelenting as he continued his frenzied attack by cutting the legs off the table. Zuko was quick on his feet as he jumped up. As he landed, he swung both broadswords at Jet's feet, but he somersaulted away and landed in a crouching position before charging forward. Zuko swung both of his swords at Jet.

Both weapons clashed as both fighters tried to best the other, glaring at each other as they did.

"Enough!"

Orora's scream cut through the air as she used her waterbending to push the two fighters apart. She moved to stand in front of Zuko, multiple ice knives nestled between her fingers as she stared down Jet. "We are not your enemies! Stop acting like a complete lunatic!" Zuko growled behind her. "Orora, stay out of this!" Jet's grip on his swords only tightened. "I will not listen to anyone who betrays their own people to help firebenders."

He took a running start, prompting Orora to drop in her stance to defend herself, however her plan of action went out the window when Zuko pushed her to the side. So forcefully that she fell to the ground with a loud thud.

Jet threw his leg out, catching Zuko in the chest and watching as he went flying through the air, smashing through the doors of the tea shop and out into the street. As the rest of the patrons rushed out to see what would happen next, Iroh quickly helped Orora to stand up.

"Are you alright my dear?" He asked, checking her over for injuries. She gave a quick nod, before stumbling to the door of the shop, Iroh following behind.

Outside the battle continued to rage between the two teenagers.

"Please, son, you're confused! You don't know what you're doing!" Even he was getting worried that Zuko would snap and use his firebending. Orora began to pray silently to the Moon Spirit, hoping her pleas would be heard and that Zuko wouldn't get hurt or reveal his true identity. The people would surely kill Zuko and Iroh, if they knew who they really were.

"Bet you wish he'd help you out with a little fire blast right now." As Jet swung at Zuko's feet, Zuko stabbed one of his broadswords through the hilt of his sword, pinning it to the ground. Jet looked annoyed at loosing his weapon, before focusing back on Zuko. "You're the one who needs help." Zuko responded. Leaving the sword embedded in the floor, they shifted to combating with a single sword each. Jet turned in a circle, trying to swipe at Zuko once again, but Zuko quickly advanced and swung his sword at Jet.

The Freedom Fighter quickly bent backward to avoid the blade, though it did manage to cut the straw sticking out of his mouth in half. Regaining his balance, Jet jumped backward onto the edge of a well. "You see that‌?!" He called out to the gathered crowd. "The Fire Nation is trying to silence me. It'll never happen." He attacked once more, hooking his sword to the top of the well and sending a flying kick towards Zuko.

Zuko growled as he dodged the kick and swung his sword at Jet once again. He moved to the side, and suddenly they were back-to-back, trying to land a hit, but neither could get past the other's defense.

Just then two newcomers entered the crowd. And from their uniforms, they looked to be of an official status. "Drop your weapons." One of them commanded. The two fighters stepped away and faced each other. Though Zuko lowered his sword, Jet pointed his weapon at Zuko, Iroh and Orora.

"Arrest them! They're firebenders!" Iroh stepped forward, throwing his arms out. "This poor boy is confused. We're just simple refugees." Pao, wanting to defend his employees joined in as he pointed to Jet. "This young man wrecked my tea shop, and assaulted my employees!" The customer from whom Zuko had borrowed the swords stepped forward. "It's true, sir. We saw the whole thing. This crazy kid attacked the finest tea maker in the city." Iroh blushed at the compliment. "Oh, ho, ho. That's very sweet."

Knowing it would be like adding wood to the fire, Orora stepped forward. "And he attacked me and threatened to hurt my Master and his nephew." She walked towards the two men, hand exposed to the wrist where he had grabbed her earlier. Sure enough the bruise from his grip was already beginning to change the color of her skin. The sight of it had Zuko nearly swinging his sword once again, but Iroh placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

It would seem the two had heard enough. As Jet continued his tirade of firebenders and Fire Nation, he was escorted to a cart where he was put in the metal cell and taken away.

Orora watched him go, unaware of the crowd as it dispersed around them.

"Orora?" At Iroh's voice, she turned around, still a little spooked with what had just happened. Or rather what could've happened. "Why don't you and Li go home. I'll help Pao clean up and meet you there."

As if she had no control over her actions, Orora took off her apron and handed it to Iroh, who gave her a sympathetic smile. "Do see that my nephew wasn't too hurt from the kick, my dear." The concern was evident in his gaze, as was the guilt in her own as she glanced at Zuko who was returning the sword to it's rightful owner.

Giving him a small nod, she waited for Zuko to walk past her, before following after him towards their shared home.

                                          ————————–

Tag List - @wavesofchaos​ @violet-potter​ @rennysketch​ @emma-andrea1 @lovesammikinzz @fuzzyfestcat @msrawog @notsaelty @lust-for-pan @aces-tattooartist

[kiisaes]

I still think it's really crazy that Horikoshi did Midoriya so dirty by having him murder the boy he wanted to save, and, now that he's lost his Quirk, is stuck being lonely for like eight years feeling like a husk of his former self, only feeling like himself again when he gets an Iron Man suit. I'm not a big Dekuhead, but I'm asking around to see what Deku fans think of the writer's choices concerning his conclusion. I'd love to hear your thoughts!! did you like this? did you not? why? etc

as a dekuhead, i agree that killing shigaraki was confusing and i still don't know what the thought process is behind that. like, saving him has always been deku's plan and everything was pointing towards shigaraki rehabilitation but then ... we didn't get it???

so yes, shigaraki should have lived (it aligns with deku's goals and the narrative's goals) and toga also should have lived for similar reasons. i also agree that deku's conclusion should have been expanded upon more — i really wanted to see how killing shigaraki, losing his quirk, etc. truly affected deku, and we were kinda left hanging. but also i sorta just equate that with lack of time / horikoshi being rushed to finish his manga

but i fundamentally disagree with the rest of your ask. it feels like you've developed this opinion based on the 430 leaks and not the actual official chapter; it's just misleading. which i don't blame you for, because the mha leaks scene is fucking awful and has ruined an entire reader base's reading comprehension, which has consequently been perpetuated by the fandom

"is stuck being lonely for like eight years feeling like a husk of his former self"

it's not stated if he feels like a husk of his former self or not. he lost his quirk, true, but he verbally says he's ok with it (ofa was like a dream that he got to live out), and never shows that he's particularly depressed or upset about being quirkless again. i feel like this specific idea is very fandom-coded. everyone was drawing deku sad as fuck for losing his quirk but canonically he appears at most wistful, and normally just neutral. it is what it is, yknow? after all he says himself that he was originally quirkless anyway, so not much has changed.

also he mentions feeling lonely, but i hate this idea that deku has been lonely for 8 straight years. people have twisted this into meaning his friends ghosted him after high school, but like ... how would that even make sense. deku's friends love him so much, will fight at the world's end with him, and he changed their lives for the better. they would absolutely not ghost him. they just canonically don't meet up much anymore, because OBVIOUSLY, when you don't live in the same building as your high school classmates anymore you are NOT going to meet up as much as before. this is just how adulting is. you have responsibilities and jobs and lives now. people hate to hear it but it's the most realistic part of this ending.

"only feeling like himself again when he gets an Iron Man suit"

again, we have no idea if deku didn't "feel like himself" when he was just teaching. and this idea that he's not is fueled in some weird anti-teacher belief that i'm seeing a lot of, now that deku pursued education in his future. in my opinion teaching is a very fitting career for him; he's been inspiring and helping his classmates as a student, and he loves quirk analysis and gushing to others about their quirks.

he's literally training a new generation of heroes, he gets to work alongside pros (such as aizawa), he's constantly learning more about new quirks ... why is this not the deku we've known and loved? what about this feels wrong? just because he's not a stereotypical hero on the scene, he's suddenly a worse version of himself?

mha has drilled into our heads so much atp that being quirkless doesn't mean you can't be a hero. deku was quirkless his whole life but he had the spirit of a hero, and even when other heroes quit during the apocalyptic era between wars, deku was still out there, doing what he could. he didn't need the money. he didn't need the fame. he didn't need the recognition or the credit, even. he just wanted to help people. and being a teacher is one of THE most directly helpful jobs you could take.

from what i can tell, people who complained about teacher deku and "peaking during high school" and "working a dead-end minimum wage job" were all from the western fandom. i have not seen a single japanese fan complain to this degree. it's definitely a cultural difference but also i think they just read better than us. UA is a prestigious school with crazy name recognition and all teachers there are registered pro heroes. even though deku isn't technically a pro, they recognized him as one anyway, which allowed him to work there in the first place. like hello. over everything we should be grateful he didn't become a cop.

the way i interpreted him getting his suit was that

his friends love him so much they pooled their money all in secret just to give him another chance at actual hero work, even though they know deku's content with his teaching job. probably also so they can see him more, now that their schedules might align better

even though he's quirkless, he is still symbolically — and literally — a hero. turning society's preconceived opinions of quirkless people on its head

it had nothing to do with making him feel like himself again. he was doing fine. the suit is just a (very expensive, labor of love) perk.

and before anyone complains about him "receiving handouts" and that "he just lazed around for years until his friends picked him back up with the suit", SHUT THE FUCK UP. he's done so much for them that they felt it right to return the favor, especially to the one guy they know who earned it the most. also - he deserved a break from all of the shit he went through; why should it Not take him 8 years? do you KNOW how much pain he suffered? that amount of trauma lasts a lifetime. all of you SHUT UP.

as a dekuhead, i think his conclusion as a teacher who also works as a pro hero is awesome and cool and i see no qualms with that. my main concern is that we should've gotten more of a conclusion to deku's ARC and its connection to the story, but regarding his future 8 years later i'm totally fine with it. he's living out his dreams, working with heroes, studying quirks, and keeping in touch with the ones he loves. that is epic as hell

[siampie]

Get Off the Highway || Chapter 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 3.3K 

Warnings/tags: Enemies to lovers trope, pining, angst, fluff, childhood trauma, eldest daughter syndrome, mention of depression

A/N: Alright, I struggled to write this chapter. I wanted to get the interactions between Dean and Reader right but also, wanted to give you more info on Reader. So, I really hope you’ll like this chapter.

Previous Chapter || Chapter List || Next chapter

Masterlist || Join my tag list

Tag list: @lyarr24, @deans-baby-momma, @hell0-ki11y111, @kr804573, @zepskies, @impalari, @urinternetmom, @sushiumex

Dividers by @cafekitsune

You poured the salt on the corpse. You cracked a match and threw it on the body. Flames engulfed the bones. You stood there for a little while longer. The poor girl had not stood a chance. Her family had been horrible to her. Put her through torture. And that was decades ago. She had no reasons to remain amongst the living, no reasons to haunt them. They weren’t the one who had hurt her and yet, she still wanted revenge. Blinded by her rage, the spirit had killed the people that had lived in her mansion over the years. Some were classified as natural deaths, and others as freak accidents. With so many deaths in one mansion over the years. All happening at a specific time of the years, you had to check it out.

It was a run of the mill hunt. Quite easy. You threw your bags in the trunk of your car, and climbed in the driver’s seat. Your goal was to get out of town as quick as possible, to disappear. You drove through the night. You wanted to get to your small flat as quick as possible.

Your two bedrooms apartment was your refuge. You could go there and recuperate for a few days. You loved hunting, you really did but you sometimes needed a break from it. Adding to the dangerous nature of the job, and the constant near death experiences, it was also draining. And rarely, was it ever rewarding. But that was not why you were doing it. You truly believed that everyone in this life was born with a purpose. There were people born to be doctors, or cops, or even firemen. And some were born to be hunters. That was you.

One fateful night, you found out that monsters were real. Everything that went bumping into the night, the monsters under the bed, the witches, vampires, werewolves, they were all real. That fateful night was also the start of your aversion for woods, camping and wendigos. You hated all three of those things, and you avoided them at all cost. But it had not deterred you from getting into the life. After finding out about them being real, you could not just ignore it. You could not keep living your life as though nothing had happened. As though you knew nothing of monsters and of the people that hunted them.

So, you became one yourself.

The sounds of gunfire welcomed you as you pushed your door open. And the voice of your youngest brother swearing at the television followed. You pushed your door closed behind you with a tired sigh. Sure, you had texted him to let him know that you would soon be back. But you had not expected him to be there still.

“That’s not why I left you a key, you know?” You said dropping your bags by the door, after you locked it.

He put down the controller on the coffee table. “Your plant is taken care of.” He shrugged turning to you. “You look awful.”

“Thanks.” You answered dryly. You dropped your keys on your dinner table, and moved to your kitchen. “Want a beer?”

“Yeah,” He got up and followed you into your kitchen. “So, how was it?”

“Matt—”

“Come on, you can tell me.” He leaned on the counter behind him.

“I don’t want to tell you.” You shook your head. “I’m not talking about it with you or anyone else.”

“Why not?”

“Because—we are talking about hunting monsters. And I don’t want any of you into the life.” You moved back into your living room. “And what the hell are you still doing here anyway? Don’t you have a girlfriend to go back to?”

“Just wanted to make sure, you were alright before I left.” He shrugged.

You smiled fondly at him. “That’s so sweet.” You cooed at him, pinching his cheek. He swatted it away.

“Stop.”

You snorted. “I’m alright, not injured. So, you can go back to your girlfriend.” You slapped his shoulder.

“you’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” You nodded. “Go.”

“Alright, call if you need anything.”

“I won’t.” You called after him. “And don’t call me for the next few days, please.”

“I will.” He walked and locked behind him.

You spent the next few days locked up in your apartment. True to his words, your brother called you. But you really did not mind. Your youngest brother only wanted to make sure that you were taken care off. After all, you were living alone while he and your two other siblings had people to come home to.

Building relationships with anyone had never been easy for you. Especially romantic ones. Something always went wrong. You felt as though you were giving more than you were receiving. You always thought that you were not understood as you did them. And instead of expressing those things, you kept quiet. You let things go, hoping they would solve themselves. And ultimately, it would lead to break-up.

You never stayed home too long. You gave yourself a few days off, away from hunting and monsters, before going back into the fray. It wasn’t surprising to find you back on the road within days. And you always let your brother know when you did.

Out of all your siblings, he was the closest to you. The one that truly worried about you and made sure you were alright and taken care of, when you were home. And to think both of you hated each other growing up, was just laughable now. You knew you had failed him when you were younger. Always siding with your parents, trying your best to keep peace within your family. It had put a strain on your relationship with your siblings over the years.

“Agent Prentiss, FBI.” You flashed your fake FBI badge to the officer on the scene.

“Officer Davis.” He introduced himself. His eyes inevitably landed on your cleavage area.

Your white buttoned-down shirt was a little tight around your breast, you had left a couples of buttons undone. Which was giving him a glimpse of it  

“What brings the FBI into this neck of the wood?” Davis said, clearing his throat.

You smirked as you caught him ogling at your cleavage. “The bureau has taken an interest into the recent strings of death that has been happening lately.”

“There’s nothing interesting in a couple of animal attacks.” Davis scoffed.

“True but these are quite unusual.” You pointed out. "Hearts missing. And nothing else. Doesn't really sound like an animal to me."

“Look, it’s better if people think it’s an animal.” Davis said quietly to you. “We don’t want them to panic while there’s a killer on the loose.”

“I completely understand your situation, trust me.” You told him. “I’m only here to help you. Maybe, a set of fresh eyes may help you see things a little clearer.” He seemed to hesitate. “I don’t want to step on your toes, here. I really do want to stop the killings. So, let me help you.”  

You looked up at him. He ran a hand on the back of his neck. Hesitating on letting you in the investigation.  He looked around you, the crowd at the edge of the crime scenes, the journalist looking for sensational news. Clearly, he was at a loss. He needed to provide answers to the victims’ family.  

The killing spree had started a few days ago. It was pretty gruesome. Dead bodies had been found recently; their hearts had been ripped out. For you, it was quite an easy hunt. It was clearly werewolves. The deaths started with the full moon, and their hearts were missing.

“What can you tell me about the victim?”

“Young woman, early twenties,” He cleared his throat. He started to lead you toward the victim, where the Medical Examiner was getting a look at the victim. “She was found by a couple of joggers.”

You raised a skeptical eyebrow to him. “People jog in this area?”

“Yeah, there’s a short trail that go into the woods for a few miles, before it cuts back into the park over there.” He gestured over your shoulder.

You looked over your shoulders briefly, and did a double take when you recognized a couple of familiar faces. “You have got to be kidding me.” You said under your breath.

“What was that?” Officer Davis asked you.

“It seems there was a mix up at the bureau.” You smiled tightly at Davis. “Anyway—” You turned to the M.E. “Anything you can tell me on the cause of death?”

The M.E. looked to the leading officer for approval. The latter nodded at her. “Same as the others.” She said, moving the head of the young woman to the side. “No apparent defensive wounds, she was hit over the head. Same spot as the others,” her hands left her head and went to victim’s wrists. “Ligature marks, and of course her heart’s missing.”

It looked like a werewolf kill alright. Although, the ligatures marks did not make much sense to you. Neither did the head trauma. Werewolves were pretty strong creatures and this seemed to indicate that they needed to restrain the victim before the kill, but why?

You turned around to see Dean and Sam Winchester were walking up to you. You excused yourself and met the brothers halfway. Dean looked a little peeved by your presence there. You approached them under his glare. You really did not get why he was mad about you being there. And you didn’t care.

“Winchesters, we meet again.” You said as a form of greeting.

Sam smiled down at you. “It’s good to see you.” Dean scoffed at that.

“Not everybody agrees.” Your eyes drifted to Dean briefly before you returned your attention on Sam.

“You’re not working the case.” Dean said and you glanced up at him confused.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re not working the case.” Dean then gestured between him and Sam. “We are.”

You scoffed in disbelief. “I already have an in with the officers. I got this under control. You can sit this one out. You do look like you need some rest, you look tired.” You patted his shoulder; and he recoiled from your touch.

“I don’t need rest.” He pointed an angry finger under your nose. “And really?!” Dean’s eyebrows went up into his hairline. “You got this under control?”

“Yeah, I do.” You nodded.

“So, you have it all figured out already?” Dean questioned, clearly hostile.

“I mean, yeah.” You shrugged. “Dead bodies, heart’s missing. I’d say—werewolves.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“And you do?”

“How can you be so sure it’s werewolves?” He questioned.

“Because it makes sense.” You argued back. “What else could it be?”

“Skinwalker.” He shrugged smugly.

“Please.” You scoffed. “You’re just pulling something out of your ass.”

“Dean’s right.” Sam sighed. “It could be a skinwalker. We don’t know that for sure.”

“We do.” You retorted. “It’s a full moon.”

“It won’t matter if it’s a skinwalker.” Dean shook his head.

“Alright.” You snapped at him. “I’ll take that in consideration. Thank you for your help. Go home.”

You turned away from Dean and stomped to your car. You were angry with him, now. He was talking to you as though you didn’t know how to do your job.

Dean grabbed your arm, stopping you on your way to your car. “Listen, kid—“ You looked between him and the grip he had on your arm. “You could barely handle a vampire hunt on your own and now you want to take on werewolves?” You ripped your arm out of his grip. “You should really leave this one to us.”

“First, not a kid. Never was.” You replied. “Second, I called for help because I had never hunted vampires before.” You walked closer to him and jabbed a finger in his chest. “I know how to handle myself on a hunt. Not that’s any of your business, Winchester. I don’t need you or your brother, I can take care of this.”

You turned around and ripped the door to the driver’s seat open, before slamming it shut. And peeled out of there. How dared he? He treated you as though you were an amateur. This wasn’t your first rodeo; you knew how to hunt. You weren't new to this job. You should have reminded him that you saved his life on this vampire hunt. Had he forgotten?

You couldn’t care less if he stayed in town or if he left. You would just proceed with the hunt. Whether it was a werewolf or Skinwalker; as they suggested; you’d kill it and be out of town. After all, it was an easy enough hunt.

As you’d soon find out, they, in fact, did not leave town. You crossed path with them at the diner. You sent a glare Dean’s way as you walked up to one of the empty booths. You were determined to ignore Dean Winchester and his brother. You were determined to show them that you could handle yourself, and take care of it all on your own.

You didn’t need them. You had never needed anyone.

You sat alone in your booth and ate your lunch while reviewing the victims’ files. They all had been found by the trail near the small wooded area. Heart’s missing, ligatures marks, slight head trauma. The heart being ripped out, indicated a werewolf kill but the ligatures marks and the head trauma suggested something different. You didn’t understand why they were there. Why did they tie up the victims?

There was only one way to find out but you did not like it. You had an aversion for the wooded areas by night. More than anything. However you were a hunter and sometimes, you had to do what you had to do. So, you traded your FBI pantsuit for dark jeans that hugged your large hips and thick thighs perfectly. You traded your dress shirt for a tie-dye crop top that showed a sliver of your skin, and the stretchmarks that peeked out of your waistband. Scars that you had gained over the years as your body changed. It had grown and suffered. It wasn’t slim or thin, it was curvy and big. You had large hips, thick and plushy thighs, a large breast. You loved your body and you had learned to flaunt it.

Flaunting your assets was not what you were going to do tonight. Anyone who knew you, would tell you it was the worst idea you’d ever had. Especially knowing your aversion for the woods at night time. Garth would advise you to ask the Winchesters, since they were in town, to accompany you. And in retrospect, you probably should have. But he didn’t need to know about that.

“Son of a gun!” You breathed out shakily. You tightened your dark green flannel and your thick jacket around your torso.

You were too stubborn to ask for help when you should. But asking for help was like admitting weakness. And you refused to appear weak in front of Dean Winchester. He already thought you were incapable. You didn’t want him to think of you as weak. You were not going to give him the satisfaction.

Your fingers were tight around your lamp torch. Your heart beating wildly beneath your ribcage. Every breath you took was shaky. Everything in you was screaming at you to run. To go to safety. But you were a hunter. You needed to put an end to the killings. You needed to take care of the werewolf. Or the skinwalker.

Crunch. You froze. Crunch. You pulled out your gun. Crunch. A snort. You knew it wasn’t human. You took another shaky breath. A failed attempt to steady yourself. Your feet remained rooted to the ground. As the sounds were coming closer to your position. You needed to move. And fast.

When your body finally obeyed your brain, it was already too late. You had barely moved when the beast pounced on you. You let out a scream as you landed on your back. The wind got knocked out of you. Your gun flew away from you.

There you were, defenseless. And alone.

Yellow eyes staring into yours. Bared fangs as it snarled at you. Its breath was hot on your face. You did not wish to die here. Alone. Away from your family. This seemed much too familiar to you. A feeling of déjà-vu. You hated it. You hated the woods. You hated that monster breathing down on your face.

A shot rang. Its head snapped up to the sound. Two tall figures were rushing to your aid. You could have sobbed with relief at seeing them. But you weren’t out of the woods yet. No pun intended.  

Its snarled at them. They fired their guns again.  The creature fled as fast as they could. Sam rushed to your aid while Dean pursued the monster.

“Hey,” He helped you up. “You okay?”

You nodded quickly. You were still shaken up. This was too close. You could have died tonight. All of that because you weren’t prepared. Because you wanted to prove something. You screwed up. You clenched your fists repeatedly. You just wanted for your hands to stop shaking. If they could only stop shaking.

“What the hell do you think you were doing?” Dean snapped at you, once he came back.

“What?”

“We were tracking it down and now it’s gone.” He continued. “You screwed it all up.”

“Dean.” Sam put a hand on his brother’s chest.

“Excuse you!” You snapped back at him. “I screwed up? I was being attacked.”

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you don’t know what you’re doing, princess.” Dean stepped closer to you, glaring down at you. “I don’t know how you survived this long on your own, but it won’t last much longer if you keep pulling stupid stunts like that. Leave this to us before you get yourself killed.”

What he said wasn’t untrue. You could have gotten yourself killed tonight. It was reckless to go in before truly knowing what was behind the attacks. Although, that was unfair of him to say. You didn’t set out to be attacked or get yourself killed. You were only trying to do your job. You were a hunter and this was what hunters do. This was what they were doing. So, why was it okay for them to do but not for you?

No one believed in you. No matter how hard you tried they still thought you were uncapable. You had met hunters like him before. Doubting you and your skills. You were too soft, they said. You scared too easy, they said. However, you had proven to them that you knew what you were doing. You had proven to them that you got the job done.

You glared back at him. “Like you care.” You wanted to sound harsh, angry. You wanted him to know that you won’t let him get to you. But that wasn’t how it sounded coming out of your mouth.

You sounded tired and defeated. No one would care if you did die. Not the Winchesters. Not even your own family. Those words had always been floating in your brain for years. After all, you had done so many things for so many people. So many things that went unnoticed. Of course, if you were to disappear. No one would notice the difference. They didn’t need you. Not as much as you needed them. You felt the tears pressed against your eyes.

You would not give him the satisfaction to see you cry, on top of everything else. So, you turned around and walked away from the Winchesters. You heard Sam called you but you ignored him.

You needed to get away from the woods. You needed to get away from Dean.

Previous Chapter || Chapter List || Next chapter

[atlasscrumpit]

Assassin!Bucky x Immortal!Reader

You walked through the darkened streets of New York City, feeling a looming presence.

You sighed and slowly turned around to the none other than the winter soldier lurking behind you.

"You know...I did expect someone to put a hit on me eventually." You muttered, shoving your hands in your pockets.

"Nothing personal, doll. I have a job and I do it." He replied making you chuckle softly.

"I can respect that... Why don't you tell me who sent you?" You asked, tilting your head and looking him up and down.

"I wouldn't be going a good job if I just told everyone who wanted them dead." He said with a smirk, it was a shame he had to kill you.

You were quite the woman.

"Well... Unfortunately I need to know." You muttered before you concentrated and stared into his eyes.

He quickly shut his eyes and groaned in pain as you forced your way into his mind.

"Tony Stark, huh? Figures." You grumble, rolling your eyes.

Bucky recovered and looked at you in shock.

"What the fuck was that?" He growled making you chuckle softly.

"I guess Tony didn't warn you, huh? Too bad... There's some darkness in that head of yours." You muttered, crossing your arms.

He pulled out a pistol and cocked it as you smiled.

"Hard way, or easy way?" He growled making you chuckle softly.

"How about this... I make this job nice and easy for you and you go out with me on Saturday night." You said as he faltered for a moment and looked at you in shock.

"I'm about to kill you and you're asking me out?" He asked in disbelief as you nodded.

"I'll just get a new body." You said with a shrug as if you could just pop down to the corner store and buy a body.

"What the hell does that even mean?" He grumbled as you slowly moved forward.

"I think we can both keep a secret... I won't tell anyone about that kid you accidentally killed a few years ago and you don't tell anyone I'm actually an immortal spirit possessing human bodies." You said casually as he glared at you.

"You're fucking insane. How do you know about...that?" He muttered, his voice faltering.

"I was inside your head, I saw it all. So, Saturday 8pm at the Brady's restaurant down town?" You said looking into his eyes, he was filled with confusion.

"You expect me to believe all of this?" He asked making you chuckle softly.

"I'm dead either way, I'll see you Saturday. Since you won't recognise me I'll be wearing a red dress." You said as he narrowed his eyes.

"I'm actually intrigued..." He grumbled before aiming the gun at your head and pulling the trigger.

He stared down at your lifeless body, confusion clouding his thoughts.

"See you Saturday..."

--

Bucky sat at the bar in the restaurant, a glass of whiskey in his hand as he tapped the glass nervously.

It was thirty minutes past 8pm and he was losing his hope, he actually had liked you and hated the thought that he had actually murdered you...

But, at least he got paid.

"Sorry I'm late, new body and all. Still getting used to it." He heard a voice as he looked behind him to see a beautiful young woman in a stunning red dress.

"It's...you." He whispered in shock as you chuckled.

"I am a woman of my word. Come on, I booked the best table." You replied before one of the waitors lead you over to a more private table with a window.

You sat down with Bucky across from you.

"I honestly don't know what to say... I really didn't expect you to show up." He said with an awkward laugh.

"It's not often I reveal who I am to people... It felt nice I suppose. I always just live the role of the body I possess and that's it..." You replied, a hint of sadness in your voice.

"I can imagine it gets quite lonely. So, what's your name?" He asked as the waiter brought over some wine.

"Well, the bodies name is Scarlet but...my real name is Y/N." You replied a little unsurely.

After all it had been a long time since you muttered your real name.

"It's lovely to officially meet you, Y/N. You can call me Bucky." He said raising his glass up to you.

You did the same and tapped your glass against him.

"Here's to new friends."

[wickedapostate]

Dragon Age OC Ask Meme

I've tried everything I can to make these as applicable as possible to all sorts of characters. Ones that are class/lineage/etc specific have been put in their own categories. Please specify which oc you're asking about if a blog has more than one.

General

Where is your OC from? How does the local culture effect them?

What's their favorite food? Do they have any memories attached to the dish?

When on the road, what role do they play at camp? For example: organization, cooking, setting up and tearing down structures

Have they had any notable losses? Who?

Who taught them their primary skill(s)? What was their teacher like?

Is your OC close to their family? What is their family like?

Does your OC have any ties to any factions? How do they feel about these factions?

Are there any real world cultures that are inspiration for your OC?

What made your OC pick their specialization??

Does your OC want or have children? How do they feel about kids?

How much has your OC traveled? Do they have a favorite region outside of their home one?

What animal do you associate with your OC? Why?

What was their childhood like? What has carried through into their adult life?

Are they disabled in any way? How does it effect them?

Do they have any vices?

What's the low point in their life? Are they out of the fallout yet?

What's the high point of their life? Do you think it's going to get any better for them?

What's their standard drink order?

Do they hope to be remembered or create a legacy?

Have they had any notable encounters with spirits or demons? What happened?

How good are they at lying? How much do they lie?

Mages

Have they ever been in a circle? Which one if so?

Do they practice any forms of magic not available in game?

How do they feel about blood magic? Would they ever consider doing it, if they haven't already?

Elves

City or Dalish? Or something else entirely?

How much Elvish do they know? Do they make any effort to learn more?

For those with vallaslin, who was their vallaslin dedicated to? How come?

Knowing the truth of the vallaslin, what would they want to do, if anything?

Dwarfs

What caste are they/would have been? How does it effect their life?

Have they ever been to the surface? How do they feel about it?

What are their thoughts on the Merchants' Guild? Do they have any involvement?

What are their thoughts on the Carta? Do they have any involvement?

Qunari/Tal-Vashoth/Vashoth

How do they feel about the Qun? Have they considered joining, if they haven't already?

What is/would be their job in the Qun?

How do they feel about the Tal-Vashoth? Have they considered joining, if they haven't already?

Other

For wardens, have they prepared any loved ones they may have for when they start hearing their calling?

For (ex-)templars, are they currently taking Lyrium? If so, do they want to quit?

For vints, what social class does your OC belong to in Tevinter?

For (ex-)tranquil, how did they end up tranquil?

For protagonists, had they killed before the start of their game? Why or why not?

[jamneuromain]

I have an idea omg. We need more of Lloyd and reader... What about a situation when Lloyd got injured, like he kicked someone's ass , got his knuckles bleeding, or maybe he got a cut or smth... and the reader though she's aware of her blood-seeing problem ofc decided to help him, trying to fight her hemophobia best she could because Lloyd needed her help. Or it can be quite the opposite, the reader got hurt in some way, bleeding a bit, and Lloyd decided to help her because he knows her reaction to seeing blood and all. What do you think?😬☺

Hi Elena😌❤️ （sorry that it took so long I accidentally deleted my draft ... and took very long to recover from the devastating fact :l

Your "Lloyd got hurt" idea certainly is very interesting....👀

So, what would happen if Lloyd got hurt and he has no one else to turn to but his secretary with hemophobia...🤔

Bleed Out

Lloyd Hansen x You

Warning: Mob AU, Mob!Lloyd, Secretary!Reader (Driver!Denny Carmicheal), Graphic Depiction of Blood and Violence (I guess Lloyd is a warning of his own?), Reader has hemophobia (fear of blood), a lot of cursing.

Summary: Lloyd is under your protection for now.

A/N: This is the sequel to A Whiff of Blood, Thank you for all your love to Mob!Lloyd<333

One thing, one particular feature you like about the apartment you're living in, is that this little condo - along with the rest of the building and five other blocks in the vicinity, belongs to a high-end resident community that has strict security guard patrol schedules and limited key-card access. These precautions resulted in rocket-high market prices and a rather wealthy neighborhood, as the owner of these buildings forbids renting, for every keycard that could access the front gate, elevators, and their matching apartments, accompanied by facial recognition embedded in the little chip. When you get home every night (or afternoon, if you are lucky), you have to press your keycard and stand before the camera before the gate grants you inside. This brings quite some comfort for you, working for a mob boss named Lloyd Hansen, and knowing that his associates are basically "wanted" by rival gangs for the valuable information they possess.

While it is impossible that you could afford such an exquisite apartment with your salary, though very well-paid, you are truly grateful because Lloyd signed this condo - his condo - to you without a word (or asking a dime from you) when you told him during your final interview that you will be needing a week to relocate before starting the job.

That's when you made up your mind that Lloyd Hansen is a boss worthy to work for.

It's not a big place. Having two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchen. Decorated in white, black, and grey, clearly matching Lloyd's taste when he asked his lawyer to give you the key card and have you move in.

You've lived here for three years now. Adding soft cushions and light-colored sets to the tedious design here and there. Like the sunflower tablecloth and daisy plates and bowls. Like the pink polka dot sheets and duvet covers. And the fluffy slippers, taken out from the cabinets, ready to be put on as soon as fuzzy socks don't work their magic any more.

You are finishing washing the mug you just used. After putting it on the racks, you wipe your hands with a clean cloth. It is a workday tomorrow, and you intend to sleep early to wake up with a fresh spirit to deal with your (sometimes) moody boss. Treating yourself to a nice little read in the bedside lamp radiating yellow glow - another decoration that you feel much needed for this place, you reach out to turn off the lamp when there's a sudden rush of knock on your door.

You zip your mouth shut.

The news two weeks ago, about a woman who was curious about the baby crying at her door, was yanked out of her apartment as soon as she opened the door, being raped and killed in her own bed.

You are smart enough not to ask "Who is it", letting this unexpected guest learn that a young female is at home.

When the unexpected visitor doesn't hear your reply, they knock on the door more fiercely, nearly knocking your heart out of your throat.

You remember the tutorial online: Approach the door with caution, and check the surveillance camera. If there's no one in sight, call the cops. If there's anything out of the ordinary, like a baby or a kitten by the door, call the cops.

In summary, call the cops.

Your fingers hover above your phone, having the police number on speed dial, when you turn on the surveillance camera monitor by the door.

A very bruised, cut, and tired Lloyd, having a gun in his hand, banging on your door as he winces in pain.

"Goodness gracious-" Your gasp gets stuck in your throat. Opening the door in an instant, there's nothing else in your mind than keeping him alive. Your goosebumps on high alert as Lloyd's eyes scan over you. You pull him in, checking that the hallway is secure, before closing the heavy door as quietly as possible.

You turn to him, "Mr. Han-" Your words stop mid-sentence as you feel the need to fight the bile down your throat.

Yes. Mr. Hansen is very much covered in the one thing you hate most in the world.

Blood.

Blood splattered on his chest, his ridiculous choice of the blue-white striped polo shirt and cuts littered over his face and bare arms. His pants are dripping. Some crimson-colored liquid will stick permanently onto your floor and your beloved carpet.

Redness, some stained into near-brown, all over his figure.

You hold your breath, not letting the iron taste linger to make matters worse.

Lloyd walks, more like limps to each of your rooms - now that you can breathe a little while the blood smell is gone temporarily, and convince yourself that it's just ketchup on your boss (though you doubt that trick works) - and inspects each of them with his finger on the gun's trigger.

Taking in the whole situation, three things pop into your mind.

Lloyd is in desperate need of medical attention.

You are most likely to faint as soon as he returns, seeing this amount of blood.

Lloyd wouldn't knock on your door if this isn't desperate for him as well.

As Lloyd approaches, you are wrecking every brain cell to work a way out of this.

" 'S anyone here?" He asks, pulling the safe of his gun back on, before plopping down on your couch and groaning because he most definitely pulls one or two, if not a few of his wounds.

However, one of THE most brilliant ideas comes to you when you are holding your breath.

You shake your head, raising one finger to tell him you need a moment - or you hope that your running off conveys the message, and dash towards your bathroom.

Lloyd sags down on the couch, not even bothering to get up or turn his head to watch whether you've pulled out a gun pointing at him. You probably wouldn't do so, since you chose to pull him in, instead of letting him bleed out by your door.

When you appear in front of him again, his body briefly stuns a moment, before emerging in a burst of full-blown laughter. He laughs so hard that his laughter turns into coughs, which leads to him pressing his hand over his chest in case he tears his wounds further.

You place your hands on your hips. Compared to him, you are least amused by your idea.

You smoothed your hair back and put on your scuba diving goggles from a paid leave last year. Lloyd personally oversaw your two-week vacation, paying from your hotel suite to your travel expenses, and even ordering you full scuba diving equipment for your one-hour scuba lesson.

Of course, you weren't actually interested in becoming an expert, but the scuba equipment was too nice to be thrown away.

"Not funny." You breathe through your mouth. Even though the orange plastic - or glass, you don't quite know which - changes how the bloody Lloyd looks in your eyes, it still doesn't completely change the idea that Lloyd is, in fact, covered in blood, as much as you don't want to think about it. And it definitely doesn't block the smell of blood, which probes the nerves at the back of your nose whenever you breathe through your mouth.

Lloyd scans your "outfit", his laughter slowly dials down, eventually turns into a lazy smile ghosting his lips, "You're right. It's not."

It's over 10:30 pm, and you usually would have been sleeping, or lying on your bed, at least. But no, you are stuck in the living room with your boss who's about to die any minute, and you are only able to stand in front of him, alive and thinking, with a fucking scuba mask on.

So, fuck this.

You roll your eyes at your cold-blooded boss. "Should I call your doctor? Or send you to the hospital?"

The smirk disappears.

Although he didn't say "no" to the hospital, by now you've realized the hospital choice was crossed off the board, as he chose you instead of ringing the police - which will no doubt lead to an investigation since Lloyd is the most notorious mob in Los Angles.

You search for the first aid bag that you stocked away when you moved in. It has rarely been used.

"Doc's dead." He murmurs, but loud enough for you to understand. He spoke with a sadness that only appears when he has lost one of his people. "I took Jared to his clinic."

You know Jared, he is one of the muscles working for Lloyd. He helped take care of one of Lloyd's rivals, Brewer.

"The deal with the Russian mobs tonight went wrong, but we got out in one piece." Lloyd explains curtly, "I got him to Doc's place to get stitched up. But we were attacked... Doc died, so did Jared."

So... two of his people.

Medical alcohol and Q-tips were picked from the bag, then a roll of gauze. You place those on the coffee table.

"I think you need something bigger than a Q-tip." He chuckles, unbuckling his belt, removing his pants. You open your mouth wanting to argue it's probably best that he doesn't move right now, but you silence yourself when you see a flesh wound -

Blood trickles down his thigh, leaving a scorched round hole on his leg. You turn your head to the other side as soon you feel the need to hurl. Even with your goggles on, deep down, you know that it's blood, not ketchup, nor some red paint oozing from his body.

“Don’t puke on my shoes. Crocodiles died for it.” A strangled grunt comes out of his mouth when he finished speaking, having your heart tug in the slightest of agony.

The belt he took off just now is turned into an instant tourniquet on his thigh. The blood drips slower than it did, but it keeps ruining your carpet.

“Yeah, I bet the crocodile spirits hate you right now.” You mutter under your breath, snatching a face mask from the first-aid kit, taking a small inhale after you put it over your face.

Much, much better now.

Lloyd snorts out a short laugh, “You look like one of those bird-man in the Middle Ages when they are battling the plague.”

“Yeah well,” You place your hand on your hips, feeling somewhat braver to deal with this bloody mess all over your living room, “You’re about to bleed out on my couch, so let’s start with you telling me what else I can help with.”

Lloyd spares a glance at you when he’s busy rolling the gauze and pressing it onto his gunshot wound, his expression uninterpretable. Though you would guess that he is mildly impressed.

“Got any liquor? Something strong?” He raises his brows almost challengingly, “I don’t see any painkillers here, so … Bourbon? Whiskey? Scotch? Anything?”

You do have a bottle of whiskey that your cousin gave to you when you moved in. He’d come to visit and lend a helping hand from time to time. You take two glasses from the cupboard and half a bottle of whiskey.

You could use some liquid courage with a murder scene and your psycho boss in the middle of this lovely condo.

With the aid of whiskey and your patching and cleaning of the rest of the wounds, Lloyd is able to sleep through the night soundly without worrying about being a rigid corpse in the morning.

Yawning, and accidentally stretching his patched-up wounds, he allows a string of curses to flow out of his lips. Judging by the sunlight peeking through your curtains, he’d say it’s 9 or 10 in the morning. Last night, he was tired when the adrenaline gradually faded away, and he did not have the chance to take a close look at your – used to be his – place.

You did not put this place through any major changes, just some minor traces, reminding him that he is, in a sense, invading this cozy little apartment with his banged-up body.

With a decent set of fresh suit, shirt, and tie on the chair beside the bed.

Faint murmurs come from the other side of the door, Lloyd tenses up immediately, pulling his gun under the pillow, where he stocked last night, and turns the doorknob slowly.

“… shut up.” He hears you smack someone’s arm jokingly.

Your voice blends in with the voice in his memory of last night, when he winced in pain as you tried to take out glass shards from his forehead with a pair of tweezers, when he swung another gulp of whiskey from the bottle.

“Fucking hell, woman, I swear you’re trying to scoop my brains out rather than finding the glass pieces.” He grumbled.

“You’re lucky I didn’t kick you out, Mr. Hansen. Now I’m kindly asking you to shut up so I can take care of your wounds before it could get any worse.” You said impatiently, having struggled between the discomfort in your stomach and your determination to get him patched up, but adjusted your attitude soon after, keeping your mouth shut and pushing his upper body so he would lean on the couch and be still, while you turned on the flashlight to search the little glass piece on his forehead.

The warm and shallow breath fell on the ridge of his nose. It was broken, sure, tingling and itching, but it also meant that you were close, close enough to kiss-

“Cuz, are you sure that-”

The male voice is cut off when Lloyd in a black suit appears in front of you and a young man. One of his hands behind his back, you know far too well he’s holding the gun and will shoot your cousin’s brain out if you don’t explain quickly.

“Morning Mr. Hansen. This is my cousin, Connor Ashborne, studying at UCLA Med School.” You smile politely towards your boss, “I called for him to check up on you, since you refused to go to any doctor with a gunshot wound. He’s here to provide professional medical assistance.”

“Mr. Hansen,” the young man extends his hand for Lloyd to shake, “I’ve heard of a lot of things about you.”

“Lots of bad things, I hope.” Lloyd throws in a comment half-sarcastically, plopping himself down on the couch, ignoring your cousin’s extending hand, “Shit.” When he stretches his wounds again, the gauze must have clotted with his flesh for this level of pain.

“Cuz?” Conner turns his choice to your hand, “It’s your call. I can’t force your boss to do anything.”

“Yeah, me neither.” You mutter, “He’s more stubborn than a bull with eyes on the red flag.”

“Careful there, sunshine.” Lloyd gulps down some whiskey, numbing the pain in his thigh, “I can hear ya’ loud and clear.”

You silently shrugged towards your cousin, letting him know that you could not be of help any more than he did. “You should probably head to your classes.” You speak softly towards Connor, “Say hi to your sister for me, will you?”

“Sure thing, cuz. Remember those antibiotics and pain meds for the... patient in the kit.” He pulls you into a hug, “No need to thank me, I know, I'm one of a kind.”

Yeah, he's a one-of-a-kind dick when he wants to be. You can't help but smile knowing that his ego bloated after coming to your aid.

“I’ll see you around Christmas, yeah?”He asks.

“Around Christmas.” You confirm, patting his back.

Connor shoots you a wink and a “Bye, cuz”, grabbing the bicycle helmet on the kitchen counter and rushing out of your apartment like a gust of wind.

"A-hem." Lloyd clears his throat.

You let out a long exhale, realizing the big problem-o is still sitting on the couch like he owns this place – he indeed still does, as you have helped combing through his real estate. He owns the whole residential community – more specifically, has a lot of shares in the company which runs this residence, at the very least. Putting your best, and most professional courtesy on, you ask Lloyd, “I’ve called Denny earlier this morning. He’s now driving around the block. Denny has driven to your place and picked up the usual breakfast from your cook. Should I call him and tell him to come up? Or you’d like to head to the office right now?”

“Tell him to come up. I’ve been shot. It seems fair to skip work this morning.” Lloyd has the usual smug smile on his face. Stepping into his crocodile shoes onto the floor, spreading his arms over the couch, he looks down at the ground before narrowing his eyes and raising a sharp question: “You’ve had the carpet thrown out?”

Of course, you’ve had the carpet thrown out. Or you would throw up five times per hour.

You thought so when carrying the blood-soaked carpet downstairs, after making sure Lloyd was asleep around midnight. As his secretary, it is your job to make sure he doesn’t have to worry about anything besides his business.

You carried the carpet downstairs, avoiding cameras as carefully as possible, with your ridiculous scuba goggles and face mask on, and dumped the carpet, into another residence trash can two blocks further. With his blood and his scent on it, it is easy to lure those henchmen away if they bring hounds to search for Lloyd.

Lloyd does not go down without a fight, that you were certain. You were also certain of the fact that the transaction gone wrong would make relative parties involved less than happy, hence the ambush at Doc’s place. If they struck once, it seemed possible that they would strike again, knowing that Lloyd was hurt.

Also packing hydrogen peroxide, a powerful bleach, and a pack of Q-tips with you, you carefully erased the traces of Lloyd’s blood from the street to your residence building, and inside the elevator.

“Miss Y/L/N!” The security guard exclaimed on seeing you back inside the building. He was smart enough not to comment on you pulling your scuba goggles and face mask off, but smiled warmly, “A rough night?”

You smile back, “Hi Henry. I hate to pull ranks on you, Henry, I really do. But in less than ten minutes you are going to get a call from your boss, who has gotten a call from his boss, asking you to do exactly what I tell you to, which is to make a copy of the surveillance footage of the security cameras, and delete the original copy stored in the computers stored somewhere in this building. You are also going to tell me whether anyone has dropped by when your shift ends this morning, who looks suspicious, asking questions even though they don’t live here.”

The smile froze on Henry’s face, “Miss Y/L/N, it’s against the company orders…”

Just then, the phone on Henry’s desk rang, which Henry took the minute it made a sound.

The smile turned to a serious frown.

“…Yes. Yes, Sir. I’ll see to it.” He hung up the phone after a polite “Good night”, straightening his security guard uniform, and moved around the desk, “This way, Ma’am.”

After burying your head in the toilet bowl and throwing up almost half an hour ago, you had used your cell phone and called Lloyd's business partner up ahead, told him that Lloyd had issued a command to erase surveillance camera footage of a specific building and asked to keep a copy.

His business partner, hauled up from his bed because of this phone call in the middle of the night, knew better than to refuse.

… and that was why the Russian mob drove through the block later that morning at 1 a.m. and did not find a trace of Lloyd taking shelter in your condo after circling the area for quite some time.

Taglist (Also tagging those who might be interested): @stargazingfangirl18 @sarahdonald87 @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @magnificentsaladllama @biteofcherry @petalj @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @thezombieprostitute @yiiiikesmish @warriorblu @vonalyn @notathingjustthere @lokislady82 @irishhappiness @toozmanykids @alicedopey @cakesandtom @universitypenguin @openup-yourmind @helenaeisenhower @wilsons-striped-ties @tittittoee @bean-is-reading

Find A Whiff of Blood Masterlist here 👈

Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

[pavo-ocxllus]

❝ 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐲! 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭…! ❞

romantic shenanigans ensue when you start working for an infamous law firm and most definitely doesn't have to do with my recent hyper fixation on law at the moment.

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠…

detective!shikanoin heizou as the number one detective at fontaine legal firm. as well as the pursuit of justice, he's also on the pursuit of you!

forensic scientist!albedo who's disillusioned from the thrilling profession of delving into the ground zero of crime scenes. though, with a case such as you, he might be wrong.

police officer!xiao who takes his job too seriously and instead of trying to arrest childe, he should be arresting you for stealing his heart ;)

prosecutor!cyno who's presence in the court is as vicious as his horrible puns. though—you can't deny that the tension between the both of you rival that viciousness.

pre-law!gorou with a strangely strong sense of smell and hearing, he possesses a not so strange sense of justice (and you!)

rival attorney!alhaitham who can't seem to stop meeting your path—or rather, crashing into it. with the (admittedly one-sided) feud stemming all the way from freshman year of university, it eventually led to the two of you unfortunately falling (in love?) into the same case.

interrogator!kaeya who's personality alone could be enough to pin this whole fiasco on him one bad day and simultaneously believe he's an angel on earth the next. somehow, his talents as an interrogation officer is the only thing about him that stays consistent, and perhaps something else...

mob boss!childe that can't stop finding different ways to drive you crazy. from remaining to do things that make the case worse against him to his endless teasing, the fact that he's actually innocent is the most daunting factor of working with him.

delinquent!arataki itto who is clearly innocent of his involvement in diluc's case. what kind of incriminating evidence does an anonymous tip have that made everybody believe he almost assassinated him?

and defendant!diluc, the man of the hour and whose car accident acts as the center that three cases revolve around. why does one have the motive to kill the wealthy wine tycoon, and most importantly, who was responsible?

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠…

klee, who despite her strange nonchalance towards explosives and having alarmingly close access to ingredients to make them, is quite the adorable young girl that loves you, her big brother albedo, and the two of you together very much!

hr!kuki shinobu who is absolutely done with heizou's fontaine legal firm's antics. she does have the qualifications to work as an attorney rather than at human resources, but she wouldn't want to work with itto more than she already has to—and he doesn't even work there!

attorney!yanfei as one of the few sane people working at fontaine legal firm. though she rarely get's involved in the daily chaos of her workplace, her fiery spirit in the courtroom knows no bounds!

part-time barista!kaveh that was (begrudgingly) ordered by alhaitham to get a job so he could stop pathetically drowning in student loan debt and his latest architectural project. horrible with drinks and customer interactions outside of his usual field, it's safe to say he'd rather be in crippling debt.

hu tao serving as the proprietor of wangsheng funeral parlor and as a partner in crime to itto and heizou, much to everybody's annoyances. queen of "it was getting a little chummy around here," she is a reliable source of information.

and perhaps more?

IMPORTANT...

i'll attempt to have a taglist! hopefully, it doesn't end up as a whole-ass nightmare, but how it works is that i will reblog the start page every time i update the routes with the taglist in tow and hope for the best! if you want to be added, you can message me or send an ask! though, just to be safe, you can turn on notifs!

there's a lot of possible routes cuz i'm lowkey a sadist, four "bad endings," ten "good endings," a neutral ending, and maybe a few secret endings (who's gonna get them first?? 👀)

there isn't a set schedule for the time being! where i live in, i'm busy with preparing for a standardized test (staar will be the death of me). please be patient with me!!

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠… heavily inspired by law dramas, tears of themis, shojo manga, manhwa, the works; fluff, hurt/comfort, interactive fic, angst

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬… heavily inspired by law dramas and tears of themis (so i wouldn't have to do too much research lmao), definitely not realistic MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH DEPENDING ON WHAT ROUTE YOU TAKE LATER ON

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟏𝐬𝐭, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 (𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐨)

[triforce-of-mischief]

Spirit of the Sky

Summary: Wild has had a very bad day, from losing Zelda to breaking the Master Sword. It would be a really bad time for Sky to show up.

Words: 680

AO3

Please reblog to show your support! Likes do nothing.

For the second time in his life, Wild woke up alone, in an unfamiliar place, with no memory of how he had gotten there. He wasn’t even wearing any clothes, but his arm- the one that the skeletal figure underneath the castle had burned- wasn’t right at all. It was glowing, along with some glyphs creeping up his shoulder, but it wasn’t even his arm. It responded like it was his, and he could feel it, but it was like a stranger had somehow grafted it to his body.

A calm voice spoke to him, telling him that his arm hadn’t been the only thing that Wild had nearly lost. The champion’s head whirled, taking in too much information at once. So much had happened so fast, and he had only been awake for less than a minute without any time to remember what had gone wrong before.

His arm- the Demon King- the Master Sword- Zelda-

He had to find her.

First things first, he had to get out of this… room? Cave? There were roots and vines everywhere but they didn’t quite obscure the stone foundation. Wild didn’t really care, especially when he saw what was lodged in some vines a few feet away.

The Master Sword looked fine, if you ignored everything below the hilt. Wild had seen how the gloom had shattered the blade, but when he drew it, nothing could prepare him for what he gingerly held in his hand. It was barely more than a dagger now, the metal jagged and corroded by the concentrated evil.

The Blade of Evil’s Bane, forged countless years ago and wielded by heroes across the ages… was broken.

Wild had broken the Master Sword.

Sky was going to kill him.

That terrifying thought was more than Wild could handle, and he fell to the ground, collapsed under all of the stress.

“Wild.”

He had been powerless to stop the return of the Demon King, he had lost Zelda-

“Wild, you have to breathe.”

He was a failure to his friends, his brothers, his kingdom-

Something like a cold hand landed on his shoulder, trying to ground him in the present. “Wild, please listen to me, you have to breathe.”

Wild gasped, recognizing the voice before he turned around. It wasn’t the one who had told him that they had saved him, it was none other than-

“It’s just me,” the voice said, low and soothing. “It’s Sky.”

Clutching the sword close like he could hide it, Wild whirled around, coming face-to-face with the spirit of the Chosen Hero.

Sky smiled, making up for the lack of warmth in his blank teal eyes. His mouth didn’t move, but Wild heard his words in his mind. “Hey, I’m right here. No need to panic.”

Easy for him to say, when he was still two seconds from seeing the Master Sword and tearing Wild apart. Wild gripped the blade tighter, wincing as the twisted metal dug into his palms.

“Careful, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Sky said, frowning until Wild eased his death grip on the broken blade. He just stared sadly at it, and Wild felt like he was about to scream.

“I’m sorry,” Wild sobbed, setting the sword on his lap since his hands were shaking too much. “I didn’t mean to break it, I swear, I know you’re mad-”

“Mad? Why would I be mad?” Sky asked, too gentle to bear. “You did everything in your power to stop that guy, and so did she. Her final act was to save you, because you were trying to save your Zelda.”

“But I- I still failed,” Wild protested, though it was weak. “I tried to use it against something it could never stop, it’s all my fault-”

Sky pulled Wild into a sudden hug, a soothing chill surrounding him. “Nothing was your fault. You couldn’t have known that the Demon King would be so strong.”

Wild was still, too tired to argue.

“She did her job, so you can do yours. Take us with you, and go find your Zelda.”

[powderblueblood]

I wonder how Lacy would react if Eddie ever read her journal 👀 Like if he ever happened upon it accidentally. I'm picturing a full on nuclear explosion. Scorched earth. That kind of thing.

ANON YOU BETTER FUCKING---!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

oh, it's the end of the goddamn world, as far as she's concerned.

like, she's comfortable enough with him that she eventually leaves it sort of kind of lying around right-- except for, not really, eddie does pinch it out of her bag. he does a really good job of sneaking excerpts when she's out of the room, and that shit gets addictive.

starts like this-- she's researching something (shit, maybe it's even hellfire club, who knows, not me) for the streak and eddie's like, "what the hell is she even scribbling about in here all the time..."

first of all, she's got imperceptibly tiny spy-level cursive that he feels like he needs a magnifying glass to read properly but with a little squinting and a little spirit, he's getting places.

and the places. are. crazy.

"what the fuck are you doing."

he hears her voice from the door of the drama room, and it is like he's been caught red handed with his first stolen copy of penthouse all over again (i'll let you guess who caught him-- because it wasn't wayne and it wasn't al, but she does live in forest hills trailer park). heart hammering, brain scrambling.

lacy, for her part, is red hot tip to toe. curiosity killed the cat, right, but she is going to skin eddie munson and make a coat out of him.

"lacy-- now, lacy, let's not--"

"asked you a question. i asked you a question, munson."

she moves fast but he's faster (used to scampering; he has rat blood).

"i have questions for the author!"

"i have a bullet with your name on it!"

"it says here that steve harrington is the kind of guy that would proclaim to love pussy as a pushback to his chauvinistic past, but would keep fingering you in the wrong hole-- care to comment!"

"i was bitter-- it doesn't fucking matter! give it back!"

"nancy wheeler has the intellectual stamina of an american girl doll with a particularly starchy backstory, but at the very least--fuck--at the very least, it means she won't end up like her mother, who almost definitely cashed in on the last of her souring good looks--stop fucking screaming!--to assist in the spread of billy hargrove's petri dish of sexually transmitted diseases! lacy!"

"what?!"

"it's like you've written fucking hawkins babylon!"

she shrieks, because he only knows about hollywood babylon because of her! don't you dare use a woman's cultural touchstones against her!

eddie just about dodges a d20 that's been flung at him with eerie precision.

"okay, that almost got me in the eyeball!"

"good! all the better to not read my fucking journal with, you provincial pigfucker piece of shit!"

"no, no no," eddie says, and he's like up on a table now because the guy loves to be up on a fucking table, holding that journal waaaay above his head, waaaay above where lacy can reach it (short, evil), "i need you to hear my favorite part."

he doesn't even need to read this part from the cursed tome, because it's memorized.

"al munson probably has no bearing on the way eddie munson lives his life, because he's a deadbeat the way his son is destined to be a deadbeat. but the mere genetic suggestion of that piece of shit--you said piece of shit, right?"

lacy stops. stomach dropping.

"--is enough for you to want to cut the brakes in his little boy's van."

a beat. the silence is, like. heavy. eddie stares down at her and she can't meet eddie's eyes. like. at all. she feels-- really bad. mouth all dry. steps off the chair she'd been standing on.

eddie crouches to face her. maybe his ripped jeans strain a little more at the knees, i don't know. he uses the journal to tilt her chin up, to look at him, to face what she's written about him, in paper and ink. (fancy ink. fountain pen ink. paper's not too shabby either.)

her heart is hammering out her chest, body not quite sure how to process guilt like it processes anger or resentment or annoyance or (more recently) laughter.

"lacy," he says, voice husky and serious. "i just have one question."

"... yeah?"

"why didn't you cut my brake lines and kill me when you had the chance?"

and the way the smile breaks over his face (sunrise after months of gloomy winter, yadda yadda yadda), she almost wishes she did.

almost.

"can i hazard a guess?" he's gonna hazard a guess. he flicks to one of the most recent entries and lacy, weakly, tries to slam her hand over the page. this one he's had to read a couple more times to get the gist of it. because this one is really scandalous.

"dear reader," god, what is this? is this his lacy impression? it's awful, "it has taken you less than five weeks to become incapable of imagining your life without--"

"don't," and lacy actually snatches the journal from him this time, clutching it tight to her chest. "if your ego gets any bigger, it'll become cancerous."

or y'know somethin like that

[tamurilofrivendell]

Sleeping Beauty | Chapter 1

Read on AO3 [x]

Pairing: Thranduil/Fem Reader Summary: A Sleeping Beauty inspired tale with Thranduil the Elvenking, and a female elf living in Mirkwood under the care of Radagast, who is actually the 'lost' daughter of the late High King Gil-Galad. Note: This is x reader but I have given ‘you’ a name. Also I needed Radagast for this story but I think technically she’d have been born before he even arrived but let’s just ignore that. If you’d like to be tagged in future chapters let me know. Translations: lothíriel (flower-garlanded maiden) anarórë (sunrise) vanwa (lost) aranel (princess) melui (lovely)

“Lothíriel!” Radagast cried out the nickname he had called you since you were but a babe in his arms, standing at the door of his little cottage deep in the forest of Mirkwood. His fingers curled around his wooden staff as he looked this way and that, brows furrowed with just the mildest hint of frustration. He was rather used to this song and dance by now. You would seemingly go missing from right under his large nose, sneaking off through the trees to mingle with the wildlife and sing to the flowers. You were a daughter of the forest, sure enough, and there was seemingly nothing that Radagast could do to keep you in check. Not that he would ever wish to dampen your spirit or dim your light, but it was his job to keep you safe and sound, after all. Keep you... hidden.

A great many years had passed since the days when this task had been appointed to him. Since that fateful day of your birth in Lindon when the Enchantress had dared show her face, laying ruin to all that could have been for you. Then the darker days that followed still. The Last Alliance. Your father, High King Gil-Galad, being slain by Sauron himself, alongside King Oropher. Dark days, indeed.

You knew nothing of any of this and that was how Radagast intended to keep it. For now. You were i vanwa aranel, as the tales told, the lost princess... and you needed to remain that way for at least another thousand years or so yet. When the full danger of the Enchantress was no longer a danger to you.

“Anarórë!” Radagast called again, using the name that you had been given just before being smuggled from Lindon under the cover of darkness. Your name was the only thing your father had been able to give you and he had gifted you the name that his beloved Queen had longed to bestow upon you - naming you after her most favourite time of day - before she was killed by the evil Enchantress that was to blame for your being out here and not in the halls of a palace as was your birthright.

“Ooh!” Radagast shook his head, turning to the bird on his shoulder with a worried expression as he heaved a sigh. He was always prone to concern, especially when you were not within his line of eyesight. “Now where has she gotten to!”

You were rather far away from the cottage where you had grown up, and from your uncle Radagast, whom you loved with your entire being but who could at times, to be quite frank, drive you rather mad. He made such a big deal of keeping you safe but some days it could feel like you were suffocating. Like treading water and never being able to move forwards. Some days it seemed that he would have enchanted the cottage to keep you inside at all times if he could. Still, you knew that he simply loved you and wished to keep you from harm.

The Greenwood was beginning to change, even you could feel that. There were pockets of thick, suffocating darkness and you could have sworn that once you saw a spider. Not just any spider but the largest spider you had ever seen in your whole life. It was said that the Elvenking was preparing to lead his people further north across the forest river due to this growing shadow.

Despite being an elf yourself, you had never met any of the wood elves that lived under the Elvenking’s rule. In truth, you did not even know the King’s name. You had watched a few of them in secret but you had never dared approach them. Radagast had always explicitly told you never to speak to strangers and something about the look in his eyes made you realise that he had some genuine reason and you followed that rule rather explicitly.

Still, you did not understand why, for how could you? How could you know that evil could take the fairest of forms to trick you into its clutches? How could you know that such evils were indeed looking for you? Actively seeking you out all over this world and had been since your birth? Radagast kept your history from you to keep you safe. As far as anybody need know, you were naught but a simple elf-maid dwelling beneath the trees of the Greenwood.

Still, it could be lonely, and you often imagined yourself outing your own presence and being welcomed into the fray of others of your kind. You adored your uncle, you truly did, and you loved your life in these woods with the wizard - but some days only conversing and interacting with him and the squirrels could become quite tiresome in a sense.

“Hey!” You laughed, lifting your gaze as a little robin gently tugged on strands of your hair from where it hovered in the air beside your head. Your thoughts melted away as you turned your focus to the little creature, suddenly realising that it was not alone. A group of familiar little animals were lined up on a nearby tree branch, looking down at you rather expectantly.

“There you are!” You chuckled, moving closer and reaching out to run your fingers through some of their fur and feathers. “I was beginning to think that you had all decided to abandon me this day!”

The animals tittered and shifted, little sounds coming from some of them as they shook their heads in dismay, eager to let you know that they would never! This little group of beasts made up some of your closest friends in this wood and a lot of days you would meet them in the clearing and pass your afternoon together.

“Oh, I am only teasing.” You laughed brightly, moving over to sit upon a fallen log, gazing up at the sky.

One of the birds began chirping and you turned to look at them, shaking your head a little as they told you Radagast was looking for you. “Well, I am not ready to go back yet.” You replied. “I have barely been out of the house in the last few days.” Another little chatter from the bird came, telling you he was worried there were strangers in the woods, and you shook your head. “He needn’t bother. Even when there is, I do not approach them. Does he not trust me? Sometimes he treats me as thought I am still a child!”

A soft silence fell upon the clearing, all your little friends looking sad as they contemplated your words, your loneliness. Even they seemed to know that even though you had them, and even though you had Radagast, perhaps it wasn’t always enough.

“Come on now!” You chuckled, brightening a little. “Let us not dwell on all of that. I will go back soon, I promise. He will not start to truly panic for another while yet.” You knew him well enough to know that you had some time to spare before he came charging through the trees with his trusty rabbit sled. “Come, keep me company while I pick some berries. Tonight I am going to make some more cakes!”

A distance away through the trees, a large brown elk was moving at a gentle trot. Astride him sat a lone rider, shoulders straight and guard up just slightly. His long white hair was cascading down his shoulders, free of any elaborate adornments, and as he rode he looked about him, studying the forest.

King Thranduil was travelling alone, something that he did not always do anymore, but his trusty swords were at his side and he knew that, if necessary, his elk could outrun any dangers that they may come upon. If he did not get them first. There was a shadow falling somewhere, he could sense it, but it was still faint and with any luck it would stay that way.

Thranduil turned his attention to the path ahead of him as he moved through the forest, aware that he would have to turn back soon and return to his realm. There was a lot to do, many preparations to make, however he had been rather needing a little bit of peace and quiet. He could defend himself well enough and it had been some time since he had been able to be truly alone. He had a heavy weight on his shoulders and he had since his father, Oropher, had fallen to Sauron, leaving him to rule. Thus the Prince had become the King overnight and, while Thranduil had often had an urge to flee and hide, it was not a whim that he would give into.

As his elk moved through the trees, Thranduil suddenly became aware of a sound filtering through all the other woodland noises. It wasn’t exactly close by and it appeared to be coming from somewhere to his right, which was not the direction he needed to go, but he found himself pulled towards it somehow.

It was somebody singing, he realised, and he normally would have simply smiled and left them to it but it was such a beautfiful melody, a voice the likes of which he was not sure he had ever heard before in all his years - and Thranduil had heard a lot of singing in his lifetime.

“Melui...” He murmured to himself, lost in the beautiful tune for a few moments before he stirred again and urged his elk to the right, struck by the sudden desire to find whoever could produce such a sweet sound.

“Come on, my friend... this way." He directed to his elk as he gently tugged the reins to redirect the beast, heading off in the direction of the singing, not caring if it was perhaps a little out of his way as his curiosity got the better of him.

His elk snorted, disgruntled at going off track, though it reminded the animal a little of the prince of old and it easily gave in, shaking its large head as it trundled off through the trees in the direction its master commanded.

[odyssean-flower]

The Chief Justice and the Worst Painter in Fontaine Chapter 3: The Chief Justice, the Painter, and the Otters

summary: It was supposed to be your time to relax and get in touch with your (extremely) buried creative side…but then your boss showed up. Masterpost here

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 (Bonus Scenes) || Chapter 4

The week seemed to pass by at a crawl. You found yourself looking at the clock frequently and tapping your feet. You got scolded more than once for being distracted. When Sedene delivered Neuvillette's note to you that Friday, you surprised even yourself with how eagerly you took it from her.

However, confusion replaced excitement when you read the note.

We will be going underwater tomorrow.

Some of your coworkers dived in their spare time, but you yourself had never done it. You could barely even swim. What did Neuvillette mean by this?

Except for the meeting spot, there was no other information. Not even instructions to bring spare clothes. 

Maybe this is a euphemism for killing me after I shouted at him, you thought half-jokingly.

By now, you knew that Neuvillette wouldn't do such a thing. But, just in case, you wrote a note for your roommate and put it in your drawer. 

You went to the designated location the next day. Your stomach was filled with butterflies, and your arms were filled with your painting supplies. Come to think of it, how were you even going to paint underwater? 

Neuvillette was already there, as always. He was wearing his usual clothes. There were no diving suits or anything that could be remotely used for diving in sight. 

"Hello, Monsieur Neuvillette," you greeted him like normal. "Are we not going diving today?"

"We are indeed going to go underwater today, but not by diving."

"Going underwater...but not diving?" you repeated, confused. 

Neuvillette saw the confusion on your face, and a small wrinkle appeared between his brows. "I'm sorry, I can't explain it in any more detail than that. But I assure you that it will be completely safe. Although, you are free to decline if you wish. I won't mind." 

I don't know why, but I feel like he would mind if I refused, you thought, and happened to glance up at the sky. It was a brilliant blue before, but now you could see white clouds slowly drifting across it.

You pondered. Going underwater without any aids seemed like a surefire way to die, but you were going to be with Neuvillette.

It was funny. You still didn't know anything more about him that you hadn't already known before you two started spending time together. And yet, you instinctively knew that you would never be harmed as long as you were with him.

And besides, going around Fontaine had awakened the spirit of exploration within you. You weren't about to quit your job and become an adventurer anytime soon, but the chance to see the underwater world for the first time...you couldn't let that get away from you.

You nodded eagerly and stepped closer to him. "Yes, I would love to go underwater! Although, I'm really not a strong swimmer, so I'm afraid you'll have to look after me a lot."

Perhaps it was the shadows of the (rapidly receding) clouds playing tricks on your eyes, but you could have sworn that Neuvillette's lips curved into a smile. "I'm perfectly fine with that. And there's no need to worry, you won't be required to swim."

Not required to swim? Just how were you getting underwater? As if he read your mind, Neuvillette said, "Please allow me to carry you in my arms."

"Okay?" Did you just hear him right?

He seemed to take that as agreement and lifted you into his arms easily. He must be stronger than he looked. You nearly dropped your things. His face was suddenly very close to yours, and you had the urge to bury your face in your hands. An attractive person looking at you so closely was not good for your health.

"I-um-I...what...um...sir..." you babbled like an idiot. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine that you would be held in the Chief Justice's arms. 

"My apologies, I startled you. But don't worry, it won't be for long," Neuvillette informed you. Wow, his pupils really are slitted, your brain thought idly, as though to prevent itself from spontaneously combusting by distracting itself from the current situation. 

He slowly stepped forward into the water. "I hate to make more requests of you, but could I have you close your eyes? It will make this a bit easier for both of us."

How would I closing my eyes make it easier for him, you wondered, but obliged. You didn't think you could handle staring at his face so closely for any longer.

Neuvillette walked forward a few more steps. Before long, you felt coldness surround your feet, then your calves, and slowly rise upwards to your waist. Your clothes didn't feel wet, strangely enough. 

As the water came up to your chest, and soon, your neck, you held your breath. You did trust Neuvillette, but anyone would feel a little bit of panic at the prospect of going underwater, right?

You feel the water caressing your cheeks, then rubbing against your temples, before covering the top of your head. You were underwater now. Though you couldn't see anything with your eyes closed, you could sense that it wasn't completely dark.

The two of you were going somewhere. You hoped it was close by because you weren't sure how long you could hold your breath for. You could feel the cool currents of water rushing past you, though they weren't as bone-chilling as you expected. You were moving pretty fast--was Neuvillette swimming? Somehow, you just couldn't imagine the elegant Chief Justice doing something like that. Maybe that was why he asked you to close your eyes? Probably not.

Your head was starting to hurt. You needed to take a breath. Bracing yourself to breathe in water, you exhaled--and nearly gasped in surprise. You were breathing normally like you were on land. What was going on? You didn't dare open your mouth to speak, though.

Eventually, Neuvillette slowed down. It seemed that he had reached his destination. There was a brief resistance like he was pushing through something, and then you were inside some sort of building.

"You can open your eyes now," he said, and gently let you down. You slowly opened your eyes, and your breath caught. He had taken you inside a round, gazebo-like building. At first, you thought it had full-length windows on all sides, but when you looked closer, you saw that the "glass" was wavering like water. The inside of the building was perfectly dry and tastefully furnished with bookshelves, a rug, and tables. There was even a gramophone. 

"This is an observatory built by researchers," Neuvillette explained. "It's currently unused by anyone, so I thought that it would be a perfect place for you to paint."

"It really is..." you said, and then suddenly realized something. "It's incredible."

The outside was even more fantastical than what you've seen in pictures. The surroundings were cast in a dreamy blue light. Fish swam through kelp and coral formations like birds flitting between the branches of a tree. The white sand at the bottom glittered in the sunlight that filtered down. It was like you were on land, but everything was more...magical. Even the crates and pottery scattered around and half-buried in the sand looked like precious treasure chests.

You were so distracted by your surroundings that you belatedly realized that your clothing and things were completely dry. You were also able to breathe normally earlier. Was this Neuvillette's doing?

"Um, Monsieur Neuvillette, were you the one who kept me dry on the way here?"

"Ah," Neuvillette looked awkward all of a sudden. His gaze wandered around slightly. "Well, as the Chief Justice of Fontaine, having such powers is a necessary part of my job. And I made a promise to you that I have every intention of keeping."

He nodded, like that was supposed to be convincing. It wasn't.

How? You wondered, but decided not to press him on it. Everyone in Fontaine knew that the Chief Justice was hundreds of years old. There were many theories about who or what he was, but someone as long-lived as him would most likely have some kind of power. You were just a lowly desk worker without even a Vision, so there was no real reason for you to know his true identity or anything. 

Still, the fact that an ancient, powerful being like him would spend his time on you, even using his powers to help you with something as trivial as your hobbies...you felt something warm and indescribable well up inside your chest.

He did so much for you out of the kindness of his heart. You wanted to repay him with what little you had. An idea was forming in your head.

You set up your easel and paints and got to work. All of the paintings you painted until now were neatly stored away in your apartment, never seeing the light of day again, but this one will be special.

Though it was cool in that underwater observatory, your forehead was damp with sweat from concentration. You could picture the underwater scenery perfectly in your head, but it wasn't quite transferring onto the canvas in the way you hoped. It was so frustrating that you felt like crying, but you couldn't stop.

You discovered something new about yourself--you enjoyed the challenge. Perhaps it was honed from having to meet your superiors' exacting standards over and over again. (Wasn't this supposed to be my relaxation time away from work, a part of your brain wondered). 

As you painted, you could feel Neuvillette pacing around, throwing glances at you frequently. It was strange, he was usually so still as you painted. Perhaps being underwater made him restless. You felt bad that you couldn't divide your concentration well enough to talk with him as you worked. He must be feeling bored. 

That realization hit you surprisingly hard. You'd felt similar feelings before, but there was something deeper to it this time. More than a subordinate worrying about disappointing their boss. What was it?

You decided not to probe those feelings any further. It felt like you were crossing a line.

You finally put on the finishing touches and stepped back. Now you needed to wait about half an hour for it to dry. Feeling shy about showing it to Neuvillette before it was ready, you found a blanket on one of the couches and threw it over your painting. 

Neuvillette saw what you did. His brow furrowed in confusion. "May I ask you why you covered your painting? Forgive my forwardness, but I was quite looking forward to seeing it."

"I want to wait until it dries before showing it to you," you put on your best, most innocent smile despite the butterflies in your stomach. Neuvillette's eyes widened slightly and he took a few steps back. Was your smile that horrible?

Electing to ignore that bruise to your ego, you changed the topic. "Monsieur Neuvillette, I would really love to see the underwater world more. Could you please accompany me outside? I-If it's okay with you, of course."

You wanted to kick yourself for being so presumptuous, but that was the first thing that came to mind. 

"Yes, of course. Please, give me your hand." That was fast.

You obeyed, and he pulled you towards the watery film that served as the entrance of this observatory. When you went outside, you felt the coolness and pressure of the water on you, but you could still breathe. Your legs were dangling below you. Maybe this was what flying felt like.

"You can talk as well, as long as you're with me," Neuvillette told you. He looked majestic even--maybe especially--in the water. You had to look away for the sake of your heart.

Your gaze landed on a group of adorable otters. They were swimming together on their backs, holding shells in their little paws. They occasionally flipped the shells up into the air and caught them, twitching their noses as they did so. They were the most adorable creatures you had ever seen in your life.

"Oh Archons, they're so cute!" you squealed, then practically dragged Neuvillette over to them with you. The otters didn't startle when you approached them. In fact, one of the otters even came up to you, its tiny face peering into yours and its paws brought together. Your noses were practically touching. You really wished you brought a camera with you. 

"Look, sir!" you turned to Neuvillette excitedly and was caught off guard by the smile on his face. When he realized you were looking at him, he cleared his throat. "Yes, they are indeed lively and adorable creatures."

Something suddenly occurred to you just then. Neuvillette's white hair and the otter's long white fur, the shared blue streaks, even the fact that they were both wearing (figuratively in the otter's case) the same shades of blue...could it be possible?

A vivid image of Neuvillette swimming around leisurely on his back, his nose twitching happily, holding his cane in his hands and flipping it in the air, appeared in your mind.

Oh no, you could feel your lips curve up into a smile. Giggles threatened to spill out from you at any moment. You had to hold them in, but it was so hard, especially when both Neuvillette and the otter were looking at you with the same confused expressions.

Unable to endure it anymore, you reflexively pulled yourself from Neuvillette--and immediately started choking as water flooded your lungs. Thankfully, Neuvillette got to you before you could become a permanent part of the sea. At least your giggles had disappeared.

After repeatedly assuring Neuvillette that you were fine and both apologizing profusely to each other, you had a fun time exploring the fascinating things that lay beneath the surface--with Neuvillette's hand firmly around your arm, naturally. You liked the silky feeling of the seaweed beneath your hands and the plump Blubberbeasts lying on their backs. 

Before long, you two returned to the observatory. Even in the water, you could feel your hands getting sweaty as you approached the gray building. This was a whole new level of anxiety from before. Maybe it was because you were giving your painting to Neuvillette this time.

Well, you've learned from experience that there was no point in putting things like these off. If he doesn't accept it, maybe I can beg him to let me stay here forever, you thought, half-jokingly.

You walked over to your painting and uncovered it. It was all dry now. It didn't look as good as you hoped, but it was finished and there was nothing you could do now. 

"Here, Monsieur Neuvillette, please take a look at my painting."

Neuvillette stepped up next to you and gazed at your painting in silence. That was normal, except for the fact that the silence stretched on unusually long. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

"...Did you paint a dragon here?" Neuvillette said at last, pointing at the blue, wavy lines in the center of your painting.

"Yes...?" you said. Oh no, is it so ugly that he can't even recognize what it is?

"Why?"

"Why...?" The clipped, blunt tone of your voice made you panic. You shouldn't have done this after all. "Well...because dragons are...cool...and amazing...and stuff, like you. I mean, my favorite story when I was little was the story of the hydro dragon, and now that I'm underwater, I thought that it'd be cool to imagine the dragon swimming in the sea. So I wanted to put that in this painting. Which I am giving to you, sir. As a gift."

Your explanation sounded lame even in your ears, even though it was the truth. And come to think of it, did the hydro dragon even swim? The tales you knew only spoke about it being able to make it rain.

"You're giving me your painting as a gift?" Neuvillette repeated.

"Um...you don't have to accept it if you don't want it..." You were seriously considering jumping out of one of those watery walls right now.

"Perish the thought. I shall frame it and put it in my office."

"Huh!?"

"I think it's your finest work yet. You captured the essence of what it is like being underwater perfectly."

"Really? Oh, uh, please don't put it in your office, sir. It's embarrassing..."

"Embarrassing? Not at all. It deserves to be displayed for all the citizens of Fontaine to see."

Now you felt like jumping out into the water for a different reason.

"No, no, please don't do that...it's just my way of saying thank you for everything you've done for me. You encouraged me, brought me to all sorts of wonderful places, even here...and yet I've never done anything for you."

Neuvillette turned to look at you then. There was alarm in his eyes. "A thank you gift? Does that mean our trips together are ending?"

"What, no!" you exclaimed. "I just wanted to thank you in some way, for being a good friend. I'm not rich or powerful or anything, so this is all I can give you."

Silence hung in the air. You said it. You said the f-word. But you didn't regret it. Even if it was one-sided, that was who he was to you. You looked straight into his eyes, almost daring him to say something.

He leaned forward until his face was right next to your ear. Your breath caught. 

"I wouldn't trade your gift for any amount of gold or jewels."

Neither of you said anything more on the trip back to the surface.

[fallenrockstars]

INTRODUCING MY FURRY GUYS I GUESS. OR WHATEVER.

Kicking off this account I guess with a selection of (at this point, quite old) Toyhouse icons I did of my miscellaneous OC’s. All from basically the same universe, but some of them may be part of different unrelated stories from one another

Below the cut, I’ll give a super brief description of my main OC stories and who each character is is.

—————————————— I have three or four story projects in active/current development at the present, but I’ll introduce the two most developed ones.

My main one is currently in need of a new title, but it’s a horror dramedy / murder mystery. about my fictional band with the tremendously on-the-nose name Dead Celebrities— whose rise to fame also coincides with a series of strange murders of several other prominent musicians in town. The story basically revolves around the members of the band trying to deduce who may be responsible for the killings, all while trying to stay alive themselves. The further they investigate, not only do they begin suspect one of their own may be the culprit, but that said culprit may be involved with even more sinister forces than they could have imagined.

My second one is called The Devil You Know, which revolves around the lead protagonist Nico who aspires to be a famous rock musician, but feels stifled by his chronic ailments and lack of skill. Through a boredom induced ouija board mishap, he finds himself summoning a demon who makes a deal with him to grant him otherworldly musical skill— unfortunately this leads to said demon possessing Nico, so now he must live with the experience of having the world’s worst roommate and a parasite wrapped up all in one ancient evil entity.

——————————————

As for the individual characters, I’ll introduce each in picture order from left to right.

1 / JESSE: Grumpy, broody, moody guitarist for an 80’s rock / heavy metal band called Dead Celebrities. Deep down very kind and sensitive despite what his aloof, offputting demeanor may indicate. Many wild town rumors circulate around him due to his mysterious nature, all of which are far more interesting than his actual life. Main protagonist of my murder mystery story. Also the main one trying to investigate the murders.

2 / CHERRY: One of Jesse’s best friends and member of Dead Celebrities’ rival band called Lost Daughters. A sarcastic spitfire and also her band’s lead singer. Is basically everyone’s wise older sister… even if she’s a bit smug about it sometimes. Part of the murder mystery story.

3 / PINK: Part of a story somewhat unrelated to the two I mentioned. His story takes place in the late 2000’s-early 2010’s. Former teen heartthrob kid’s sitcom actor turned somewhat washed up emo singer and social media personality. Has been cancelled every week for the past several years. Has made multiple YouTube apology videos. He’s kind of a fuckboy asshole (but he does redeem himself somewhat)

4/ WILEY: Weirdo bassist for Dead Celebrities and armchair paranormal expert. Professionally mentally ill, couch surfs and does odd jobs for income. Freaks out his roommates by doing seances in the apartment. Part of the murder mystery story. Is Donnie’s older half-brother.

5/ MEPHISTOPHELES: Demon. Nico’s parasite. Will drink all your pepsi and call you a bitch. Is the eternal spirit of a former musician. Part of the The Devil You Know story.

6/ DONNIE: Dorky rhythm guitarist and occasional keyboardist for Dead Celebrities. Painfully earnest and sweet. Has an unrequited crush on Jesse. Chronic nervous wreck but overcompensates with extreme friendliness. Overcaffeinated, sleep-deprived med school student. Part of the murder mystery story. Is Wiley’s little half-brother.

7/ EDDIE: Dead Celebrities’ drummer and casanova extraordinaire. Good with the business side of the band stuff. Gregarious, excitable, goofy personality. Really having fun with the whole rock-star persona thing. Think Jack Black type vibes. He’s also Cherry’s boyfriend. Part of the murder mystery story.

8/ RIOT: Part of a story partially connected to the murder mystery one. Goofy himbo glam metal party boy who don’t want nothin’ but a good time. Clinically oblivious.

9/ NICO: Perpetually anxious, poorly socialized shut-in with chronic illness and barely any exposure to the outside world. Craves a change of pace in the form of fame, but unfortunately a deal with a demon to gain said musical prowess resulting in said evil entity taking up partial residence in his body wasn’t the kind of shake-up he was wanting. Not to mention, the effects of acute demon possession have been taking a serious toll on his health… Part of the The Devil You Know story.