#and still go “someone save nick from this monster - he's going to make him miserable”

[ctl-yuejie]

at this point i feel so silly with all my boston posting. i don't want to defend him the whole time. he's a dick and i think that is fun to watch.

but the takes that make him out to be a manipulative monster nick has to be protected against are just ...baffling is too soft a word

[sydsaint]

Can you surprise up with a fic of any wrestler you choose with any injury prompt you pick?

Take some Nick content!!!

prompts taken from @promptsbytaurie 's injury prompt list!! Prompts used: 31. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." And 22. "Shit, that's blood. That's a lot of blood."

Summary: The reader continues to aid Adam Copeland in his quest to ruin Christian's title run, working on her own agenda of saving Nick from Cage. While out with Adam during one of his matches, reader suffers an injury causing Nick to drop his unapologetic and uncaring act.

"I appreciate you sticking around to help me out, kid." Adam puts a caring hand on your shoulder, offering you a friendly and grateful smile.

"Of course, Adam." You nod. "I'm happy to help with anything that makes Christian Cage's life miserable." You joke with a small laugh.

Adam laughs with you and the two of you head to the locker room door. Adam has a match against Killswitch, Christian's resident monster on a leash. You and Copeland head out to the ring and you take up a spot in his corner.

"Alright, I'll handle the monster." Adam looks down at you from inside the ring. "You stick down here and keep an eye on Cage and Nick." He adds.

"Got it." You nod.

Christian's music hits and he struts down to the ring with Nick and Killswitch at his side. You make a couple of glances at Nick, your heart hurting a little bit. Christian and his group reach the ring and Killswitch climbs up onto the apron. Christian and Nick remain on the floor in their corner and whisper to one another.

The bell rings and you watch Nick start to move away from his corner. You watch him slowly make his way around the ring and over to Adam's corner where you're standing.

"Go back to your corner, Nick." You turn toward him with a scowl.

"I just want to talk." Nick replies in a calm and seemingly sincere tone.

You scoff and cross your arms at your former best friend. "Well I don't." You sneer at him.

"Come on, Y/N. Please?" Nick flashes those soft brown eyes at you.

Nick's chummy look makes your heart ache. He used to flash you those eyes all the time back when you were still friends to get his way. And you'd fall for it every damn time. But not now. Not this time.

"I told you to get lost." You scowl at him. "You had your chance, Nicholas." You remind him. "So don't come over here and pretend like you care."

Nick's expression remains solemn as he stares at you with those puppy dog eyes. But you don't budge. You remain stoic, arms crossed across your chest.

You and Nick stare at each other for a moment, and you fail to notice the action spilling out from inside the ring. Killswitch moves to hit Copeland with a nasty spear out of the ring, but Adam manages to dodge it. Killswitch sails through the ropes and hits you hard instead.

"YN! Look out!" Nick sees Killswitch flying toward you but can't close the distance to get to you in time.

Killswitch hits you hard with his spear and your body flies back violently. You crash into the commentary table, head bouncing off of the edge of it. Your vision goes black for a moment, but you can hear Nick yelling for you as well as the bell ringing.

"YN! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Nick flies toward you as you slump onto the floor in front of the commentary table. "Shit, that's blood. That's a lot of blood." He gets to your side and spots the blood stain on the front of the commentary table.

Adam climbs down from the ring and hurries over to check on you. But you are already in Nick's arms by the time he gets over to the table.

Your vision clears up and you become acutely aware that you're being carried up the ramp by someone. "Adam?" You make assumptions about whose come to your rescue.

"It's me, YN. It's Nick." Nick corrects you in a worried tone. "I'm so fucking sorry. You're hurt and bleeding and it's all my fault." You hear him sniffle.

You turn your head to the side and find Nick teary-eyed and doing his absolute best to get you back to the trainers room as fast as he can. "Nick?" You furrow your brows at him, head pounding in pain.

You reach up and touch the back of your head, causing pain to shoot through it. When you pull your hand back it's smeared with blood. "Oh shit." Your eyes widen at the sight of blood.

"Just hold on, YN, we're almost there." Nick assures you.

Nick gets you to the trainers room and you are ushered off to be helped. The trainers keep Nick in the hallway and shut the door behind him loudly.

Freaking out and regretting every decision he's ever made Nick leans against the wall and slowly slides down it to the floor. "Shit shit shit shit. What did I do? What did I do?" He puts his head in his hands and takes a few deep breaths. "Please be okay, YN. Please be okay."

Adam comes down the hall a few seconds later and the trainers let him in the room since he's your tag partner. He glances at Nick as he passes, noticing how upset Nick looks.

Christian comes looking for Nick about 20 minutes later when he doesn't come back to the locker room.

"Nick! What are you doing out here?" Christian stomps down the hall toward Nick. "Are you crying?" He scoffs when Nick looks up from having his head in his hands.

"Leave me alone, Christian." Nick sniffles.

Christian scoffs and looms in front of Nick. "Come on, Nick. That's enough. Get ahold of yourself." He insists.

"Fuck you!" Nick springs up from the floor red in the face. "YN could be seriously hurt! And it's all my fault!"

"Nick." Christian goes to make a reply but Nick cuts him off.

Nick jabs a hand at Christian's chest and begins shouting. "Don't! Just fucking Don't, okay? God, what the fuck am I doing?" He runs a hand through his hair. "YN's my best friend! I love her! And I-I-God, I've been treating her like shit! Because of you!"

"Nick..." Christian attempts to speak again, but Nick doesn't allow it.

"Just get out of here Christian!" Nick shouts furiously.

Christian is taken aback by Nick's outburst and steps back. He gives Nick one last disappointed glance before he turns and walks off.

A few seconds later Adam steps out into the hall. He looks at Nick for a moment before beckoning him over to the door with his hand. "Come over here kid. YN wants so see you." Adam informs Nick.

Nick nods and hurries over to the door. Adam lets him inside the trainers room and points over to the corner of the room where you're upright and chatting with one of the trainers.

"YN!" Nick takes off across the room without hesitation.

"Nick!" You turn away from the trainer as Nick darts across the room.

Nick flies across the room and engulfs you in a hug as soon as he's at your side. "You're okay! Oh thank god that you're alright!" Nick loses it. "YN, I am so sorry. I'm so sorry for everything. I'm such a fucking idiot. I don't deserve you."

You wrap your arms around Nick and glance at Adam over his shoulder. Minutes ago Adam explained to you what he heard Nick yelling at Christian out in the hallway.

"Nick, it's alright." You push him off you gently. "Adam heard you out in the hall and told me what you said." You explain.

"He did?" Nick replies, glancing at Adam.

You nod and grab Nick's hand from his side. "Tell me that you're done with Christian." You ask him. "Please. Just promise me that you're done."

"I'm done with him." Nick promises you with a nod. He laces his fingers in your hands and sets it on his chest. "I'm never leaving your side again, I swear." He adds.

"Good." You crack a small smile. "You're a huge fucking idiot Nicholas Wayne. But I love you regardless." You run a hand through his soft hair before pulling him in by the back of the neck for a kiss.

[visenyatargaryn]

Once, she had been a wife, a mother... someone who had finally found their happily ever after. However, that all came crashing down once the bombs fell and her once beautiful life turned into ashes before her eyes. After being the only survivor from Vault 111, Evangeline made her way into what was now known as the Commonwealth with one mission in mind:

To find her son and get revenge on the bastard who murdered her husband.

With the ongoing search, Evangeline eventually found herself in one particular neighborhood where she would meet a peculiarly dressed ghoul who—unbeknownst to her, would become the one to drag her out of her ever-growing darkness and back into the light. However, will it be enough to find her son? To save him from the clutches of the Institute? Or will she forever lose the last thing that brought happiness to her?

CHAPTER ONE|| Welcome to Goodneighbor || G || 1575 words || ao3

After getting herself into trouble and barely surviving a trap set up by a band of raiders, Evangeline finds herself at the doors of Goodneighbor—a place known for its infamous reputation. However, instead of finding help... she instead finds herself in a sticky situation where one wrong word or movement could be her last.

The cold steel at her throat burned as the blade pressed harder against her skin. She felt a slight trickle of blood run down her neck from where it had nicked her.

Evangeline was pressed up against the wall of one of the older buildings that surrounded the area. Her attacker, a brute of a man who had cornered her when she entered through the gates—had taken advantage of her vulnerable state of being. Out of the corner of her eye, Evangeline saw where her shotgun now lay after he had tossed it aside, but not before butting her with the buttstock. She was sure her lip was busted as she could taste the slight trace of copper in her mouth from the impact.

“Now, I’m only gonna say this one more time,” the man growled as he held her up against the wall. “Either you hand over em’ 200 caps as I said, or things are gonna get much, much worse for ya.”

Evangeline stopped herself from laughing at such an absurd thing to say. How much worse could it possibly get for her? She was already living in a fucking nightmare. Her old life was destroyed, turned into ashes after the bombs fell. Everyone she loved and cared for was dead, all except her son Shaun—who had been taken from her. She was impossibly alone in a foreign world where everyone and everything wanted to kill her.

“Fuck you, asshole,” she snarled.

He leaned in close to her with a smile that made her skin crawl, so close that she could smell the foulness of his breath. “Heh. You outta be careful what you say, doll. You’re in no shape to fight, and maybe I’ll just drag you back in one of these here alleys and have my fun. Then I’ll take them caps once I’m done with ya.”

Disgusting pig. If she had not fucked up her leg or lost too much blood – she would have made him regret ever taking advantage of her in the first place. Instead, Evangeline could do nothing like some goddamn helpless damsel in distress because she could barely muster the strength to even put up a fight. She hated him, but more so, she hated herself. Evangeline hated herself for being so damn stupid. She hated herself for even getting into this mess. If she had not let her guard down—if only she had not played the hero. So many ifs… she realized, but it was all too late to think of what she could have changed and face what was currently happening.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a raspy voice yelled out—melting the man’s face into a scowl.

“Whoa, let me stop you right there,” the voice ordered. The blade at Evangeline’s throat released enough to allow herself to turn her head in the direction it came from. Her breath caught as she saw what manner of creature was approaching them.

At first glance, he reminded her of those old zombie films she used to watch as a child—with melted skin that made him look like a living corpse. Most people would cower away out of fear or even disgust for merely coming across a ghoul, but Evangeline refused to do the same. She refused to see them as monsters or freaks that the people of the Commonwealth had labeled them as. To her, ghouls weren’t the stuff of nightmares that kept you awake at night—they were human… well, a more radiated version, of course, but human nonetheless. Taking a closer look, she registered the rest of his appearance. He wore a large, tricorn hat paired with a long, red coat that had seen better years. Tied around his waist, she noted was ole’ glory herself. Evangeline couldn’t help but smile at this strangely dressed ghoul.

“How many fucking times must I remind you?” the ghoul asked, with a touch of irritation in his tone. “Someone steps through that gate the first time; they are a guest. You lay off that extortion bullshit!”

The man in question spat on the ground, giving the ghoul a murderous glare. Evangeline sensed that he had no love for the ghoul—who appeared to be the one in charge of this place. However, she also saw this as an opportunity to deal with her attacker, who was currently distracted and paid her no mind. All she needed was the perfect moment to make her move.

“What d’you care? She ain’t one of us!” he snapped back.

“Doesn’t matter, Finn. What does matter is that she’s a newcomer, and we don’t treat newcomers like this now, do we?” he questioned the man, without a change of tone, but merely repeating its primary emphasis from before. “I said, let her go.”

Finn sneered at the ghoul, looking not all too pleased with the order. At first, Evangeline thought he would refuse and slice her neck open right there on the spot. However, when she felt the blade leave her bare throat, Evangeline let out a breath of relief. It appeared that Lady Luck was on her side for once, it seemed.

“You’re getting soft, Hancock,” the man who had been called Finn, stated as he turned away from her. “You keep lettin’ these outsiders walk all over us; one day there’s gonna be a new mayor.”

Evangeline noticed that he now held the knife loosely in his hand. However, she knew there was only one chance, and if she messed up… she dared not think of what would happen if that would occur. Not wasting any more time, Evangeline grabbed the knife from Finn’s loose grip and thrust the blade into Finn’s neck. She watched as he staggered forward before turning back to face her—his eyes fuming with anger.

“Shit,” Evangeline swore to herself, realizing just how much she fucked up. Before she could react, he had his meaty hands wrapped around her throat, choking the life out of her. Evangeline made a weak attempt to free herself but failed miserably. Her vision began to blur as black spots started to appear—she was going to die, Evangeline realized, and there was no one left to mourn for her.

“You fuckin’ bitch!” he snarled. “You’re gonna fuckin’ pay for that, you goddamn—"

Suddenly, his grip around her neck faltered before collapsing onto the ground in front of her, where she then saw the handle of a knife protruding from the back of his head. Looking back at where ghoul stood, whose name was Hancock, she saw that he was the one that threw it—and ultimately saving her life. Without warning, Evangeline’s legs gave out from under her as a wave of relief coursed through her. However, to keep from falling, she supported her back against the wall, sliding down instead of landing on her ass.  

She wanted to cry—to scream but refused to let the weakness overcome her. It was no secret that Evangeline sometimes wished that she should have died along with everyone else in that vault. Instead, she had been the only survivor and was left to live through the hellish nightmare she was thrust into. The pain and misery that overwhelmed her nowadays were practically unbearable, and Evangeline just wanted it all to end—to be able to feel peace once more, if only for a moment.

Hancock stepped over the body and crouched next to her, frowning. “Easy there, sister, you’re safe now. You hear me?”

Evangeline opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. Safe. Was such a thing even possible? She didn’t know. Ever since she walked out of the vault, there was no such thing as safety. Every day she was either being shot at by raiders or being ambushed by molerats. There was never an end to all the fighting she had to endure on a daily basis. Evangeline looked over to where Finn—whose lifeless corpse now lay still on the cold, hard ground, and back over to the ghoul who had saved her life. If not for him, she would have met the same fate. The thought alone caused her to shiver.

“Here,” the ghoul said, as he took off his coat and wrapped it around her—which smelled slightly of cedarwood. Evangeline was taken back by such kindness, especially in these parts. Ever since she had come out of that vault all those weeks ago, nobody had treated her as such. It seemed that everyone was only out for themselves and cared nothing about those in need of a helping hand now and then.  

Wrapping the coat tighter around her, Evangeline had not realized how cold she was from the blood loss. To make matters worse, the pounding within her head had become agonizing, and the world seemed to spin around her. All of a sudden, Evangeline felt the sensation of being lifted up. Sure enough, the ghoul—Hancock, had her in his arms, gently but firmly holding onto her. As he carried her, she rested her head against his shoulder.

“Just relax, sister, I got ya,” Hancock said, reassuringly. While being carried, Evangeline closed her eyes as she felt the warmth radiate off of him. She knew it was crazy, but perhaps this is what safety felt like. Even if it was in the arms of a complete stranger—one who could have turned an eye when she needed help. He had saved her, though, she reminded herself, and that was something Evangeline would never forget.

“Thank you,” Evangeline murmured into his coat before being engulfed in complete darkness.

[theficpusher]

Ghost of a Good Thing by musiclily88 | nr | 2136 Harry asked Louis to the Yule Ball only to find out he had already invited someone else.

can you feel this magic in the air? (it must have been the way you kissed me) by crookedlove | T | 3518 The more Louis thinks about it, however, the more he can see Harry sitting at the Hufflepuff table with Niall and Stan, laughing at what must undoubtedly be a dumb pun one of their minds has crafted up while Louis moodily picks at his food. He can also see Harry at the Ravenclaw table, intently talking with Zayn and Karlie about something presumably intellectual in his slow, syrupy drawl. Lastly, Louis sees Harry with Taylor at the Slytherin table, animatedly gesturing and then scribbling things in that journal he always keeps with him with a Muggle pen. Louis looks up in horror at the boys across from him, seeing his sudden realization that he doesn't know what house Harry Styles is in reflected across the faces of Liam, Niall and Zayn. Or the one where no one knows what House Harry is in.

Eyes Wide Open by alittlewicked | E | 4130 Louis could only gape and stare, unable to rip his eyes off the man, only now taking in the rest of his outfit. A skin-tight, white T-shirt covered his torso, clinging material highlighting the small dip of his waist. The better part of a muscular chest was prominently on display thanks to a plunging neckline, two tattooed birds on the man’s pecs drawing Louis’ eyes unbidden, not to mention the writing on the shirt - “Lil Monster’s Daddy”. To say that Louis suffered from visual over-stimulation was putting it mildly. And the other man knew it if the slight smirk and watchful gaze, monitoring every hitch in Louis’ breath and twitch of his body, was anything to go by. *** Or the one where wizard Louis gets to experience his first Muggle Halloween and gets more than he dared to hope for in the form of Muggle Harry dressing up as his literal wank fantasy, making it Louis' best Halloween ever.

When the Dragon Meets the Sun by GMTYUniverse | nr | 16531 “Thank Merlin,” Phoebe starts. “We really don’t want anyone to overhear, not even Fizzy knows,” Daisy finishes her twin sister’s sentence. Louis frowns, his concern increasing by the second as he carefully considers their facial expressions. ‘Knows what?’ “We found an egg! We left it in the Room of Requirement and then when we came in, there was an incubator and everything. Turns out we found a baby dragon right here in the Forest!” For a moment, Louis wonders if something went wrong and he accidentally cast Muffliato on himself, because his ears are ringing and he feels a little light-headed. His sisters’ lips are moving as they speak, but he doesn’t actually catch anything else they’re saying past “little baby dragon”. OR the one where Louis is a world renowned dragonologist and his sisters are pretty sure they've discovered a dragon egg that needs saving. A secret mission to extract the dragon from Hogwarts ensues.

only words to protect by serenityandtea | T | 30352 Hogwarts AU in which Hogwarts really isn't the safest place in the Wizarding World any more, Louis and Liam just want the war to be over already, and Nick thinks he's sending them off to boarding school. “Hey, c’mon,” Louis whispers, and presses his nose against Liam’s cheek so the boy looks at him. “We’ve managed before, and we’ll manage again, all right? It’s just three months, and then we’ll come back to visit, yeah?” Nick hums in agreement. “Besides, it’s not like you’re going off to war or summat. It’s just school. You’ll barely have time to miss me. It’s me that’s gonna be sitting here pining for you lot while you two have the time of your lives. God, I wish I was still seventeen and in secondary. That was the life.”

Practical Magic by justyrae | T | 41856 It's in that moment that Louis knows what she needs to do. She needs to prove to Nick that she knows exactly what she's getting herself into. Nick needs to see all the research she's already done, and the letters from Professor McGonagall herself. Maybe, she thinks, just maybe, with Nick's seal of approval, I can finally do this.

Little Lion Man by Writcraft | E | 123638 It’s his final year at Hogwarts, and Louis can’t wait to leave for good. He hates being in Gryffindor and he can’t even enjoy a smoke with the Slytherins now his best mate Zayn’s fucked off to Durmstrang. Louis would be completely miserable if not for WWN and Nick Grimshaw. The same Nick Grimshaw Louis has been listening to for years, ever since Nick’s early days on Potterwatch. As Louis tries to negotiate coming of age, sexuality, first times, homophobia in the wizarding world and his growing feelings for Nick, a new evil emerges which puts Louis and Nick in serious danger. Peace can only last for so long and Louis is about to learn exactly how brave he can be as he finds himself fighting for his life, his friends and everything he’s ever loved.

You Are The Blood by sarcasticfluentry | E | 175151 A seventh-year Hogwarts AU in which Niall gets all the girls, Liam goes on a journey of self-discovery, Zayn falls in love, Harry wants something more, and Louis tries to figure out once and for all why he, a Muggleborn, was sorted into Slytherin.

Mistletoes & Wrackspurts [Series] by perfectdagger, star_k | E | 275,767 the Hogwarts AU where Louis is a muggle, Lottie finds out she is a witch and Harry is Lottie’s wizard friend from Hogwarts, with a lot of magic, letters, owl cuddles and crushes on boys from different worlds.

[geraskierficrecs]

What about the hanahaki disease prompt it’s too good to ignore

Okay, Hanahaki stories are my guilty pleasure even though I’ve never written one.  I might flesh this out with a little more plot one day, but for now, enjoy these moments of anguish.

The first time his heart breaks, Jaskier is covered in blood and standing outside the rubble of a ruined castle.

He can hear Chiraedan’s shocked breath next to him, but it’s nothing compared to the exquisite agony of discovering Geralt is alive and choosing to ‘celebrate’ that fact by fucking the very sorceress that had been tormenting Jaskier moments before.

It was his fault really.

Everyone on the Continent knew that Witchers never loved.  He had been content with he position at Geralt’s side if it meant he could occasionally relish in the flutter of his heart when the Witcher graced him with one of his rare smiles or dry jokes.  He could sing new songs of adventure and pretend he wasn’t already falling too deep into the gravity of Geralt’s affections.

Then he’d felt his throat rip and tear beneath the Djinn’s magic.  He’d felt what it was like to have Geralt’s arms wrap around him and watch the man above him focus all his energy on saving him.  How was he supposed to go back to pretending he wasn’t affected by the sound of Geralt murmuring his name?  He’d been so happy even while he thought he would die.  Now it felt like that happiness was the real curse behind the Djinn’s magic.

Inside, he hears Geralt make a soft sound of pleasure and he feels his chest ache.  His throat burns like his lungs are filled with razor--digging deeper with each breath.

He turns away from the window, telling himself he should just be glad that Geralt is safe and the Djinn’s magic is gone.  

He can forget the emotions that had only grown with each step taken in Geralt’s wake.  He could find some willing lass in the next village to drown his sorrow with.

Jaskier takes a deep breath and feels something rough catch in his throat.  Reflexively, he coughs, low and rough, in his hand.  After a moment, he glances down at his palm and feels himself go still in fear and shock.

There, curled beside a small splatter of blood, is a pale white petal.

__________________________________

The cough only got worse the longer he traveled with Geralt after he met Yennefer.

Eventually, Geralt began to notice the scent of blood that seemed to linger around Jaskier.  There were always excuses to be made--nicked himself shaving, tripped and fell, a fight with a jealous spouse--but even those weren’t enough to cover the way Jaskier was beginning to struggle to sing without pausing to breathe through the ache in his chest.  Or the larger pieces of flowers that he now brought up.

He knew it wouldn’t be long now.  

Jaskier looked to where Geralt was talking gently to Roach and down at the crushed peony in his hand.  

“Just a little longer,” he whispered down to the flower, like he could beg the disease to slow its relentless growth.  

Just a little longer.

__________________________________

“If life could give me one blessing--”

Jaskier can feel the burning agony in his chest digging deeper, as though the roots were burrowing into his very bones.  It is all he can do to keep himself upright as Geralt destroys him with every syllable.

“--it would be to rid me of you!”

He stares, blinking back tears and tries to catch his breath. 

 It’s becoming harder now.  Everything is harder now.  He’d hoped to enjoy this last adventure at Geralt’s side before he finally admitted that he wasn’t capable of traveling any longer.  He would make some excuse for the Witcher, of course.  Maybe pretend the Countess de Stael still wanted him.

Anything to avoid watching Geralt chase after Yennefer again.

The disease only grew worse each time he had to watch the mage appear with sly smiles and hidden agendas only to disappear with Geralt’s affections trailing in her wake.  He wanted to scream at her, to beg her to understand all that she had been given and so easily tossed away.  He wanted to paint some masterpiece of the look in Geralt’s eyes when he thought of her and show her the beauty she so easily overlooked.

But he wasn’t a painter, he was a bard.

He wasn’t even a friend to the Witcher he’d given his whole heart to.

If Jaskier wasn’t dying, he would have crafted a ballad describing this moment that would leave crowds in tears.  Somehow he doubted he would have time after Geralt finished destroying him without ever raising his sword.

“Alright,” Jaskier whispered, forcing his voice to remain even despite the cough itching at the back of his throat.  He’d had plenty of practice now, “I’ll just...get the story from the others.”

He had to grit his teeth to avoid coughing up the petals and stems and raw ache in his chest.  Even if Geralt hated him, he wouldn’t allow his death to weigh on the Witcher’s conscience.  He wouldn’t burden him with the misery of what loving Geralt had brought down on the bard.

Jaskier would give him the blessing he wished for.

The bard turned, stiff and awkward against the intense need to cough.  His breaths were shallow.  It felt as though his lungs were unable to hold oxygen any more.  Too full of the flowers that would adorn his corpse.

He walked.

There was no point in attempting to find the path they’d used before.  He only let the pull of gravity and the downward slope do the work for him.  

But the story is this, she’ll destroy with her sweet kiss 

Once he was out of earshot, he coughed until his vision danced with spots and his stomach heaved with the need to eject the curse growing within him.  Jaskier left the small pile of leaves and petals beside the path.  There was no point in burying them like he had the others.  Maybe it would even help bring someone to where ever his body finally collapsed.

His vision wavered with the next wave of coughing and he stumbled hard enough that his knees hit the ground hard enough to make him whimper.  He spat a clump of peony petals dyed red with his blood and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.  Each breath felt like a struggle and a dark part of him wanted to laugh at the idea of the very thing that made him famous being what killed him.

Stubbornly, Jaskier forced himself to his feet and continued down the mountain.  Any hope of reaching a village before he collapsed for good seemed to disappear with each step.  His strength was fading fast. The shadows created by the sunset made the forest seem dark and forbidding in a way that never happened when Geralt was by his side.

He couldn’t help but think it was absurd to die from loving the wrong person instead of at the hand of all the monsters he’d seen in his lip.

Jaskier’s foot hit a root and he fell hard, hitting his side hard enough to expel what little air he’d managed to drag in.  He coughed.  Spat out more flowers--larger now that he was close to the end.  He rolled onto his back and stared up at the bright red sky, blinking away the tears that ran down his cheeks.

A red sky at dawn is giving you warning, you fool

He wanted to laugh at the irony of the lyric that was meant to convince Geralt to realize who truly loved him.  And Geralt had never given it a second thought.

Just as he’d never thought of Jaskier as more than an annoyance.

There was nothing left for him but to wait for his foolish heart to finish this.  He coughed again, curling on his side to try to ease some of the pressure.  The temperature was beginning to drop with the loss of the sunlight and he shivered miserably.  He scrubbed at his face roughly before another long series of coughs left him gasping and aching.

He could feel the wet mixture of dirt, blood, and flower petals against his cheek, but couldn’t summon the strength to move just yet.  A tear dripped off one of his lashes and he huddled more tightly to try to conserve his heat.  Not that it mattered.  He wouldn’t make it to the morning.

His thoughts went slow and sluggish, smothering without the oxygen he needed to survive.  He blinked, fighting to drag his eyes open again.

i love you.

The words he’d never been able to say felt like poison, but he could help but whisper them into the night.

“I love you, Geralt.”

Jaskier coughed, fighting through a wave of dizziness and panic when he couldn’t catch his breath.  He pressed his cheek against the cold earth and tried not to cry.

“...love...you..”

There was a sound nearby--a snap of a branch--and Jaskier tried not to sigh.  It was just his luck that he would be eaten by some beast before the disease took him.  He hoped for it to be quick, at least.  Perhaps a siren to sing him into the dark...

“--kier.”

The voice was familiar even through the thick cloud of agony filling his mind.  He turned toward it, too weak to do anything else.

“Jaskier!”

Strong hands wrapped around his arms and lifted him into a sitting position, leaning his head against a strong chest.  He didn’t need to smell the familiar scent of leather and blood to know it was Geralt.  

Smiling up at the phantom, Jaskier’s eyes fluttered weakly in an attempt to see Geralt’s face one last time.  Whatever creature or doppler that had chosen this form had chosen well...he would never fight against Geralt.  No matter what it cost him.

“What happened?” 

The creature’s voice was nearly perfect, Jaskier thought weakly.  It would have been foolproof were it not for the way Geralt’s hands were shaking and the thundering heartbeat in his ear.  The Witcher would never allow himself to react so much.

Jaskier cough, turning away in an attempt to hide the damage.  His throat closed around something thin and his fingers scrabbled weakly at his mouth to pull it free.  It made him gag and heave, but eventually he dropped a fully formed pink peony and its stem onto the ground beside him.  He closed his eyes, strength fading.

“You...you’re sick,” Geralt said.

Jaskier gave him a weak smile.  “I’m dying.”

His voice was a raw husk of what it once was.  Weak and wanting even at the end.

Geralt’s arms tightened around him and abruptly he was being lifted.  The sound of pounding footsteps felt far away now.  He leaned closer against Geralt until the Witcher was all he could see.

“Stay with me Jaskier.”

Jaskier smiled, mentally thanking whatever creature or hallucination had created this fantasy.  

It made it easier to slip away into the dark.

___________________________

The world shook against him and he sucked in a ragged gulp of air.  Tasted the blood and misery on his lips.

“Tell me who it is!” Gold eyes snapped fire at him from the darkness in his vision.  Jaskier swayed like a tree in the wind, trying to focus.  “Jaskier!  Tell me who it is!  I’ll find them!”

“too..late, ’m afraid,” Jaskier rasped and felt blood drip from his lips.

He fought to keep his eyes open and focused on Geralt.  There were monsters lurking here, hidden in the shadows.  Waiting for him to collapse.  Laughing at the stupid bard who’d always aimed for impossible targets.

“No! I’ll bring whoever it is to you and you’ll get better.  You have to get better!”

His head slumped forward, but calloused fingers cradled his cheeks.  Jaskier’s eyes opened through sheer force of will and he summoned a weak smile for the ghost in front of him.

“It was,” he swallowed another mouthful of petals, “always you, my love.”

There was a roaring in his ears that matched the thunder of his heart.  Geralt’s mouth moved to shape words, but Jaskier was far past hearing.  He let himself go limp, relieved of the burden of his feelings at last.

____________________________

Waking up again was a surprise.

His whole body felt like it was bruised and battered beyond recognition.  Each breath irritated the rough skin at the back of his throat and he groaned.

Instantly someone was there to help lift his head and press a cup of cool water to his lips.  He drank greedily, feeling like his stomach was empty for the first time in ages.  The water was better than anything he’d tasted and he made a noise of protest when it was pulled away.

“You’ll get sick if you drink too much,” a voice rumbled.

Jaskier’s eyes opened in surprise and he turned to find Geralt sitting next to him.  He blinked, trying to banish the hallucination for the sake of his sanity.

“I’m dead,” he said flatly.  It was the only explanation for the Witcher sitting here beside him.  Not after what he’d said.

Geralt’s lips pursed into a scowl.  “Not quite, but you came close.”

“Ah,” Jaskier tried for levity despite the way he wanted to crawl away and hide himself from Geralt’s too-knowing gaze, “that explains why you’re here.  Saving me again.”

The Witcher remained silent, his thoughts hidden behind his stoic expression.

He tried not wince at the pain that lanced through him at the thought of what Geralt had witnessed.  Jaskier looked away, shifting to lay back down until he could gather the strength to sit up on his own.  Feeling Geralt’s hands on him was too much after all that had happened.

“Must have been good luck to find a healer so quickly,” he rambled to fill the tense silence between them, “Thank you for that.  You, uh...you won’t need to wait any longer for me.  I’ll just be on my way as soon as--”

“Did you mean it?”

Jaskier’s head snapped up at the sudden question.  Geralt was looking at him oddly, something unreadable in his expression.

The bard licked his lips, eyes darting around the simple rom before flitting back to the Witcher.  “Mean what?” he tried weakly.

“Did you mean what you said?  About why you were sick?” Geralt pressed.

Jaskier’s eyes fell closed against the cold wash of fear that raced down his spine.  This was it.  The moment he had tried so hard to avoid with all his lies and fake smiles.  The moment when Geralt saw his feelings for what they were and sent him on his way.  Whatever reprieve he’d gained in the brief relief of seeing Geralt again would disappear just as quickly now.  He could already feel the tingle at the back of his throat.

He felt curiously calm as he gathered the shreds of his courage and spoke.

“Yes.”

“You’re in love with me.”

His heart thundered in his ears, but Jaskier forced himself to nod.

“How long?” Geralt rasped.

A wry twist of his lips. “Since the djinn.”

The Witcher stood with a burst of barely restrained energy.  He paced away from Jaskier’s sick bed and raked his fingers through his hair until it was freed from its tie.  When he looked back at Jaskier, he looked almost feral.

“I--I didn’t-”

“Know?” Jaskier let out a ragged laugh, “Of course you didn’t.  I knew you didn’t feel the same.”

“You would have died without telling me?”

The bard’s mouth went flat.  “I’m a very selfish man, Geralt, but even I wouldn’t risk you feeling guilty for what was going to happen--not when you were in love with someone else.  It was my choice.”

“Are you still in love with me?” Geralt asked softly.

He huffed out a mirthless laugh.  “I never stopped.”

There was a soft click as the door shut and Jaskier felt his strength wane beneath the crushing agony of reality.  This was the end he had been dreading since he’d first recognized the symptoms.  Geralt was gone and all there was left to hope for was the death he’d already tested.  He closed his eyes again, biting back a sob through gritted teeth.

Then there were arms closing around him and pressing him against a chest still stiff with the armor he hadn’t bothered to remove.  

Jaskier froze in shock, too bewildered to do more than make a soft sound of surprise.  Soft lips pressed against his forehead and he felt Geralt heave out a long, slow breath.

“Idiot,” he whispered.

The bard blinked, still confused.  “I’m sure you’re right, but why...?”

“I’m sorry for what I said.”

“Oh...” Jaskier whispered and nodded, “It’s okay.  You were upset.”

“I should never have said that,” Geralt said, his arms tightening around Jaskier, “I regretted it as soon as I realized you were gone.  And then I found the blood...”

Jaskier winced at the reminder of what had happened on the mountain.  He was sure his path down the hill was easy to follow even without Witcher training.  He’d stopped to cough small piles of flowers and leaves several time and stumbled his way through the underbrush without any concern for the trail he was leaving behind him.

“Well, I appreciate you saving me and finding a healer,” he said quickly, leaning back to press a hand to his chest and relish being able to breathe without pain.  He was sure it wouldn’t last long. “I expect you need to leave soon.”

“I didn’t find a healer.”

Jaskier froze, frowning at Geralt in confusion.  “What? But I...”

The Witcher met his eyes.  “I didn’t need a healer to fix what I broke.”

Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Jaskier’s.

Thanks for the prompt!  Sorry it took so long to fill--this was quite a bit longer than I expected, but I hope you liked it!

[goldenkamuyhunting]

Ramblings and crazy theory time about GK chap 230 “Ienaga Kano”

So with the new chapter we get a split in the fandom on how to nickname Tsukishima. While the Japanese fandom goes for ‘Surekill-man’ a reference to a fanassigned nicknamed for a character in the ‘Jojo no kimyō na bōken’ universe, the western fandom went for something obviously more ‘western’…

…to be honest with various variations of the nick, from purely ‘The Terminator’ from the homonymous movie to ‘The Tsukishima’ or ‘Tsukishimator’ and so on (I went with the one that would fit better in the space in the image, that and Merdopseudo liked it, my apologies to the nicks not used, you’re all cool but ‘there can be only one’).

But let’s start with the chapter and with how Tsukishima gained this nick.

We left him having been injected a sedative by Ienaga and yet still managing to shoot her to death. It’s worth to point out Ienaga’s sedatives need some time to affect people and our Tsukinator is trying to take advantage of it to make a short work of Tanigaki.

Really, we knew Tsukishima, pardon, the Tsukinator was good at hand-to-hand combat but not really how much. Tanigaki is supposedly good as well, bigger than him and not drugged and our supposedly sedated Tsukinator is literally wiping the floor with him without even breaking a sweat and Tanigaki manages only narrowly to have him miss shooting his brain off.

Luckily for Tanigaki when it looks as if the Tsukinator will get better luck with his next shoot, the sedative kickes in (with the Tsukinator’s veins becoming rather visible as if they were some sort of monster crawling on his face)

and the Tsukinator’s falls, his face flat on Tanigaki’s ample chest.

Ienaga, still alive, tells Inkarmat, who’s naively trying to stop the blood pouring out of her, about how the Tsukinator wouldn’t SUPPOSEDLY be able to move for two hours.

Tanigaki, always the righteous, gives Ienaga a look that Ienaga correctly interpret with ‘why would a selfish, evil criminal like you do something like that?’.

Tanigaki represents that sort of naïve people that divide the world in two blocks, the purely evil ones and the purely good ones and misses how actually there’s a lot of middle ground in between the two groups and purely evil and purely good hardly exist if not in fairy tales.

As Ienaga did PLENTY of terrible deeds Tanigaki doesn’t care for her motivations nor expects her to feel also positive emotions like love or care and do something good like helping them. He put her in the box of the evil people and thinks there’s no way she would get out of it and do something good.

On the contrary side he perceives himself as being among the good guys, as proved by the previous chapter in which he said he wasn’t cold blooded enough to kill a friend, Sugimoto, conveniently forgetting he wanted to do the same to Kenkichi and that he did the same to Kiro (who saved his and Inkarmat’s life by the way) and doesn’t realize the ‘greyness’ in himself, feeling free to judge negatively Ogata and Nikaido for betraying Tsurumi but thinking instead that he is entitled to do the same.

This, of course, doesn't mean Tanigaki is evil, he’s merely human and therefore flawed.

I love this side of him as a character, I love how human Tanigaki is in his own good sides and in his own bad sides but, on the other hand it clearly makes me angry when he acts like a blind hypocrite. It’s human... but it’s no good at all.

Anyway Ienaga explains her own reasons which are… very simple.

Inkarmat, who’s about to give birth, is, for Ienaga, about to become ‘perfect’. Evidently the trauma of her mother’s abort, which twisted Ienaga and turned her into a bloody murderer and cannibal, rules her life not only pushing her to do heinous acts but also in a positive way. She wants to save this pregnant woman, she wants her to attain the ‘perfection’ neither her or her mother could attain. And it’s clear Ienaga is completely content with giving up her life for this, in fact she’s smiling and telling Tanigaki to not lose this moment.

Inkarmat is touched. Tanigaki just pulls Inkarmat up and tells her to leave without even a word of thank you for the person who gave her life so that they could escape. Inkarmat’s gaze instead is still on Ienaga and since she doesn’t seem to really try to get up I wonder if this is because she feels bad for Ienaga, for leaving her behind.

Not that she can be saved.

This, mind you, doesn’t mean Ienaga is now a good person or that she gets redeemed by this single heroic act. Ienaga is a terrible person who did terrible things and who’s helping Inkarmat only because, for her own reasons, she had come to care about her.

It’s entirely possible Ienaga doesn’t regret a single terrible thing she had done in life and, had she survived, she would have continued to try to chop people and eat them for their own purposes… except Inkarmat for whom she had grown fond.

On the other side the cover of the chapter, placed here and showing Ienaga’s body, depicts the sprays of blood that came out of her as forming a halo and wings, while the writing points out that Ienaga became perfect in that very moment, by giving her own life for someone else.

If this is Noda nodding to Christian faith again, the implication is that yes, Ienaga regretted what she did in the past and that she would be forgiven, not by men but by God.

After all, according to many, ‘Who saves a life saves the world’.

Yeah, yeah, among fans it’s a controversial topic.

The tropes of ‘death equals redemption’ and ‘redemption equals death’ are overused to the point they feel cheap and that’s due to fans themselves. As James Norrington said ‘The problem with a 'redemption' gig is, well, no one wants to see it. They all want to believe in it, sure, but to do it... it's as good as signing your own death warrant. Audiences don't want to see you redeemed, living a normal life. They'll never truly forgive you for your flaws as long as you're alive.’

Long story short, authors who decide to portray that EVERYONE can do a heel-face turn, that you can stop doing evil things, that is never too late to become a good person which is a great message really, also end up heroically killing off characters who decide to do something good for a change, so as to appease the fans who can’t forgive them and just want them to never realize the errors of their way and die a miserable death (or, when they feel merciful, spend their life being miserable).

Well, if that’s your kind of story, you’re free to roll with it.

De gustibus non disputandum est.

I’m personally not sure that, had Ienaga survived, after this heroic act of her, the trauma that pushed her into becoming the person she was, would be magically healed and she would become a morally perfect person... or at least as morally perfect as a human can be (not much really unless you’re in air of sainthood) and OF COURSE there’s no way she could ‘pay back’ all the people she killed as... well… they’re dead (I know there’s a lot of confusion about it but redemption isn’t about being forgiven, nor is about giving your life in a heroic way, redemption is about paying back the people you wronged... unless of course you use religion and have the character atone for his sins against God by redeeming himself to His eyes and not really by redeeming himself to his victims)  but I like the idea Noda is hinting this could have helped her to change their ways.

A perfect world would be perfect if all the criminals just were to change their ways and become good people, not if the jails could contain them all or if they were to drop all dead in a ‘Death Note’ style (though, when we talk about fictional works, there’s a bit of Yagami Light in all the fans… :P ). We need good men more than we need jails filled and corpses.

But well, this of course is just an utopia, sinning is addictive and changing your life is hellish hard. It happens even in real life, but is sadly very rare.

Anyway Tanigaki and Ienaga leave Inkarmat’s room only to meet up with Koito, pointing his gun at them. Tanigaki, who was pushing ahear Inkarmat, now places her behind himself but Koito is clearly torn. He’s sweating and chewing his lower lip as he lower his gaze as well before lowering his gun too and telling them to leave.

The two run away, always without thanking him, but then Tanigaki wonders why Koito left them go.

Inkarmat points out that when Koito was bedridden she spent a lot of time telling fortunes to him but Tanigaki rejects the idea. The Second Lieutenant Koito he knows wouldn’t have shown mercy to a person who had shown kindness to him.

While this is partially true, as part of Koito’s actions are clearly motivated by how he had lost faith in Tsurumi and Tsukishima due to discovering how he was used by them, I still think him letting Inkarmat go is also part due to him growing fond of her.

She was with him and cheered him up when he was wounded and weak and, in a way, in enemy ground. I think this was precious to him and Inkarmat, who’s clearly not a naive person, probably realized it. Koito knows he can’t escape, he doesn’t take that chance to run away as well, but it’s worth to mention if Tsurumi were to realize he let them go, Koito could end up in troubles as well and maybe he’s afraid Tsukishima too could put him in troubles since he warned him if he were to betray he would kill him. Koito also is risking his own life to help them, and, I think, is something he’s not doing solely out of the kindness of his heart but out of genuine care for Inkarmat.

She won him over a little.

It’s also sad how Tanigaki thinks that Inkarmat’s kindness should have gone unrewarded on Koito. He doesn’t think the time she spent with him would affect Koito, that he would grow to care for her. He sees Koito as a lost cause, a man uncapable of showing thankfullness and apprecciation for the kindness he received.

Koito is in another box for bad guys from which Tanigaki didn’t think Koito should have been able to get off and instead he did. People don’t change to Tanigaki, he has no hope for them to get better, to improve themselves, to develop positive relations or to do good thing. Once evil, always evil.

It’s a sad, hopeless and cold view.

I think even Nihei would be hurt by it.

Meanwhile Tanigaki put in action his ‘bright plan’ of escaping with Inkarmat on a horse a mean of transportation surely perfectly comfortable for a pregnant woman who could give birth at any minute and whose speed wouldn’t resent at all of the fact it has to carry two people, one of which at the nth month of pregnancy plus whatever Tanigaki has in those bags he hung to the horse and his own backpack.

Now… remember when I said the Tsukinator was meant to be out of commission for supposedly two hours?

Well, we wished.

The Tsukinator, despite the sedative, manages to get up, grab a rifle, shoot in Tanigaki’s direction and recharge before… falling again. Honestly I’m not sure if he has fainted or he just slipped off the bed due to lack of coordination. Nothing stop the Tsukinator as we’ll see later on.... but after all we knew it.

‘Listen, and understand, Tanigaki. That Tsukinator is out there, it cant be bargained with, it cant be reasoned with, it doesn't feel pity or remorse or fear, and it absolutely will not stop... EVER, untill you are dead!’

Too bad Tanigaki can’t hear me lecturing him about the Tsukinator....

Meanwhile as Tanigaki and Inkarmat escape, as it was easy to predict, the rocking of the horse of course starts to affect Inkarmat. Tanigaki realizes he was going too fast and, since they managed to make to the edge of the Otaru he thinks they’re far enough and safe enough they can stop there in an abandoned building.

As Tanigaki lights a fire, Inkarmat notes there’s blood coming from his head so he uses the Matanpushi (the headband Huci gave him) to bandage it, claiming he’ll be fine.

Honestly I don’t really find respectful to use that headband as a makeshift bandage as the Matanpushi has a religious meaning among Ainu, in fact it tells Gods where they are and calls their protection on the wearer. I can understand Huci using it as such, to ask the Gods to protect Tanigaki, but, as I doubt Tanigaki is now an Ainu Gods believer, it just feels a bit inappropriate.

On the other side in desperate times people would beg at whatever altar they would find and I also wonder if, in a way, this makes Tanigaki feel as he felt when he was escaping from Ogata and Nikaido so in a way he is hoping Huci’s headband will give him protection not so much through the Gods in which Huci’s believes but just because it’s Huci’s headband... which again is very human and also rather sweet.

(Besides there are huge chances Tanigaki has no idea of the religious meaning tied to it...)

We can also see that Tanigaki’s irises recover their light colour now that he’s wearing it so yes, I think it has a good psychological effect on him and it’s not just something he picked up at random.

Anyway Tanigaki plans to have them rest only a little and then escape farther.

Inkarmat notes Tanigaki is losing blood from his leg also, which Tanigaki thinks is the result of Tsukishima shooting at them earlier and which he notices only now since he was so busy escaping he didn’t even felt the pain it should give him.

While this is kind of normal and points rather well to Tanigaki’s inner state, so completely focused on escaping he basically didn’t even felt pain, not checking on his own conditions is a huge mistake. Not only loss of blood makes him weaker and could have caused him to faint, making him useless and giving Inkarmat more troubles but his dripping blood left a convenient track the Tsukinator followed till there.

And that’s why I think Tsukishima didn’t faint, he only fell because, on his feet he basically reached Tanigaki and Inkarmat who escaped on a horse in no time as they only apparently had time to light the fire before being discovered. The Tsukinator is even faster than Jason Voorhees in tailing after his victims despite being on his feet and drugged… but Noda has already assigned the comparison with Jason to Sugimoto so I’ll stick with the Tsukinator…

Anyway the Tsukinator tries to shoot Tanigaki but he narrowly misses him.

Either Tanigaki is lucky, due to the Matanpushi the Gods are really protecting him or Tsukishima is still partially affected by the sedative. Anyway Tanigaki tells Inkarmat to escape from the back as he tries to shoot the Tsukinator and… miss him despite the Tsukinator being only few steps from him as the Tsukinator lowers himself, pushes Tanigaki on the ground and then punches him hard.

Tanigaki, taking advantage of his superior size and strength, grabs the Tsukinator up and tosses him against a wall so hard the Tsukinator crashes through it.

Think this signs a score for Tanigaki? Think twice.

The result of Tanigaki’s efforts is that when Tanigaki grabs his rifle and tries to shoot him, the Tsukinator had all the time to hide, protected by the walls.

Tanigaki looks out, and luckily for him the Tsukinator isn’t into position yet as Tanigaki’s head would have been a beautiful target right then.

Way to go, Tanigaki, really.

Inkarmat calls him so Tanigaki reaches her and again they escape on a horse. Again.

The Tsukinator shoots Tanigaki in the shoulder...

...before faithfully ‘hopping’ after them at a leisurely pace with a calm and a determination that betrays how he took lessons from Pepé Le Pew only, to Pepé and Tsurumi’s displeasure, what pushes him forward to chase and attempt to kill Tanigaki, is clearly not ‘love’.

Anyway morning as come and Inkarmat and Tanigaki are still escaping on a horse, conveniently leaving blood track on the snow that the Tsukinator can follow. They might as well leave direction signs.

Tanigaki though is optimist. Now he has a rifle so, he thinks, the Tsukinator will keep more at distance (he wishes) and besides since he’s more at home in the mountains than him they will easily lose him if he will hide there with a pregnant woman about to give birth and for whom all those emotions and the horse ride clearly aren’t good.

As on cue and strictly following Murphy’s law, Inkarmat’s water breaks and Tanigaki’s oh so perfect plan to slowly reach the mountains and lose the Tsukinator there crashes when facing the logistics of how to deal with an impending childbirth that Ienaga had warned him was about to happen. But no, do not listen to the amazing doctor when the latter is also a criminal who just died to save your ass.

So Tanigaki APOLOGIZES TO THE HORSE because he is leaving him behind and mind him, this is nice and everything but what about thanking Ienaga, who died for you and Koito who risked his ass for you?

Meanwhile the Tsukinator moves closer following the trail of blood he can notice also in a bamboo grove… to discover Tanigaki’s horse which now has a wound on his leg, likely made by Tanigaki as the horse before seemed perfectly fine.

The Tsukinator understands he was misleaded into chasing the horse and his brain computer analyze the situation to set on a new course… and soon it’ll become obvious it’s not really difficult to get which one.

Meanwhile Tanigaki, who’s about to become father, carries Inkarmat bridal stile running through the snow repeating the classic sentences Panicky Expectant Fathers says to their wives when they’re about to give birth to a baby: ‘you can do this, grit your teeth and bear it, it’s gonna be okay, I’m with you, you can do this, everything will work out… yadda, yadda’.

Mind you, it’s nice from them as it’s not like there’s something they can do except saying such things and being of moral support with their presence but it’s a trope so abused seeing it in this scene somehow made me laugh instead than feel the drama that’s obviously looming over him and Inkarmat due to them being in an obviously very dire situation.

And it’s worth to mention that Inkarmat, same as all the other pregnant women, appreciates a lot Tanigaki’s efforts to reassure her.

Moral support might seem nothing much but sometimes it can also do miracles and it’s great to know there’s someone with you that encourages you when you’re in such a desperate situation, a rock against which you can hold so as not to be dragged away by waves.

So she smiles and hugs Tanigaki tightly and tries to hold on.

It’s a good moment.

Yeah, Tanigaki went into this without the sliver of a decent plan but at least he decided to stick with the people that were important for him and not leave them alone at the first sign of trouble.

Tanigaki has plenty of faults and flaws but, despite this I think it’s so IMPORTANT how he decided to stay with Inkarmat through thick and thin when so many other men would have washed their hands clean of her and the baby.

Maybe Tanigaki can’t give us lessons about planning or about not being hypocrites but sure as hell he’s trying his hardest to be a good companion and a good father and this is GREAT, really.

He’s wounded, he has lost blood and yet he’s running in the snow with all their luggage and Inkarmat, who’s pregnant, in his arms.

The Tsukinator can be scary in the way he doesn’t stop his chase but Tanigaki, who’s instead moved by love, is amazing.

Sadly though, Tanigaki isn’t really good at planning things and this definitely plays against him.

So Tanigaki, running like a madman, reaches the most predictable destination in the neighbourhood of Otaru in which he could hope to get help, Huci’s house, where we can see next to her the son of Sakamoto, the Lighting Bandit and O-gin who now had grown enough he can sit on his own.

While yes, in this place they can find someone who’ll help Inkarmat, it’s not like The Tsukinator couldn’t guess Tanigaki would take this course, it was obvious enough that escaping with a woman who’s about to give birth they should find a place in which said woman could give birth and Huci’s house is close enough so I expect the Tsukinator to figure this out and reach them in no time. I honestly doubt Tanigaki will manage to repeat the same trick he used with Ogata as, first of all, at this point it wouldn’t be wise to move Inkarmat for a while and this includes also just after she gave birth and he can’t leave her behind or she and her child will become hostages Tsukishima and Tsurumi can use against him or kill off in retaliation for his escape and this now includes Huci as well since Tanigaki has ended up involving her.

Due to Tanigaki’s huge involvement in Kiro’s death (Kiro died of blood loss mainly caused by the wound Tanigaki gave him) he’ll likely be a victim of the tiger curse and condemned to live an unhappy life meaning there are chances he won’t be the one to die here but that he’ll lose everything here.

Tsukishima is in no better position as he also contributed to Kiro’s death albeit in a smaller manner (the wound Tsukishima inflicted him did negligible harm compared to Tanigaki’s although it clearly didn’t help, actually it only speeded up Kiro’s death) so let’s talk a bit about him.

Tsukishima didn’t need to become The Tsukinator, as I called him through this whole rambling.

He attempted to stop Tanigaki, he was drugged, they went away, he could have told Tsurumi he just passed out, Koito kept on sleeping and be done with the whole business.

Tanigaki is just a man who wants to go back home, he isn’t interested in the gold hunt nor in stopping Tsurumi, he wants to get the woman he loves and have a family with her. Inkarmat is a woman who due to her past with Wilk ended up becoming a pawn to him and now she apparently merely wants to have a family with Tanigaki. The incoming baby has no fault of his own and can’t prove to be a threat.

Why just not letting them go? Why do they need to be killed or captured at any cost?

Is the baby’s actually Tsurumi? Did they experimented on the fetus so as to create the perfect soldier or the antichrist himself? Does Inkarmat know earth shattering  secrets that can’t be revealed to anyone?

Tsukishima was willing to let go Gansoku, a criminal. When Koito unveiled the truth Tsukishima let it slide as long as Koito played along with Tsurumi.

So why not letting go Tanigaki, Inkarmat and the baby?

Just because they aren’t okay with being used as a pawns like he is? Just because they want to have the ordinary happy life Tsukishima was denied? Or it’s because in this way it won’t come out Koito let them go?

I don’t know but I can’t say I like what Tsukishima is doing. He could turn the other way to save three lives, he could turn the other way as he does each time Tsurumi commits a crime and instead he decided to stick with Tsurumi against three people who, apparently, can’t really do Tsurumi harm. I’m really sad he chose to be that way.

On another note there’s something I wanted to remark in the past chapter but forgot about it so I’ll mention it here. I love how Noda handles Inkarmat’s pregnancy.

In many cases in manga a pregnant woman is often moving around like a not-pregnant woman, using her protruding belly like a hand rest and maybe being a little slow and fatigued but overall acting as she usually do.

Inkarmat moves exactly like a pregnant woman instead, not using her belly as a hand rest but protecting and holding it with her hands, taking it into consideration when she moves around and even when she’s in a seating position she clearly have to adjust it to make it comfortable for herself now that she’s in her 9th month. Noda really did his homework with her.

Anyway with this chapter we end volume 23, with Tanigaki coming back to Huci without Asirpa and with a woman about to give birth and a Tsukinator tailing after them in a situation that really sounds like it will become a déjà vu of volume 5.

Ogata back then didn’t want to shoot Tanigaki in Huci’s house so as not to have to kill her too and ended up allowing Tanigaki to get an advantage over him. We’ll see what the Tsukinator will do… and we’ll see what Tanigaki will do now as well, so as to ensure Inkarmat, his kid and Huci (as well as Sakamoto and O-gin’s baby) will get out of this safely.

Hopefully maybe, being back on the mountains will give him back his planning ability.

Using the horse to lead Tsukishima in the wrong direction wasn’t a bad idea even if the course he took afterward became then far too predictable. On a sidenote… in that circumstance Nikaido was there as well and Tsukishima watched as Tsurumi cut his ear. I do wonder… was Nikaido still at the hospital? Does he know what’s going on? Will he join them? And with whom he’ll side?

Tanigaki who caused him to be attacked by a bear or Tsukishima who stood by as Tsurumi cut his ear and would have let the latter kill him without blinking?

It would really be interesting to have Nikaido join the party with a ‘personal’ position instead than just the one of the soldier who has to obey to Tsurumi’s orders.

As the tiger curse said they’re supposed to live an unhappy life, unless I’m misinterpreting something, the curse won’t attempt to their lives, just at making them miserable. Still, we’ll see. I don’t want Inkarmat, the baby and Huci to die but I get this could be appropriate karmic retribution for Tanigaki. We’ll see.

In a way, while the previous chapter pushed forward a comparison between Tanigaki’s escape plan (or lack thereoff) and Ogata’s escape plan, this chapter is all a comparison in strenght and endurance between Tsukishima and Tanigaki. They fight, they keep on going even when other men would just give up, with a desperation and a determination that makes me think of Kiro in his last moments and that might be done on purpose in case the tiger curse is looming on them.

Kiroranke is looking down on them from above, seeing them as they struggle like he did, seeing them, who in the past had a good relation, fight without mercy like Tanigaki did with him.

We’ll see how it’ll end for both of them but sure thing the irony in all this is big.

Last but not least a question that’s going to stay unanswered for now. Who between the Tsukinator, the killer rabbit of Caerbannog, the 6 million yen man  and Jasonmoto would win should they come to a hand-to-hand fight? We’ll probably discover this in the future.

[unwilling-survivor]

11, 14, 13, 37, 47 - Smut dialogue

SMUT DIALOGUE PROMPTS

11) “I bet you think you’re real cute letting them put their hands all over you. We’ll see how cute you look later when I get you home.”  14) “Do you think you deserve to be punished?”  13) “Touch yourself for me.”  37) “Did I say you could stop?”  47) “You deserve a reward for being so good today, what would you like it to be?”

((This got... very long. Like... 3200 words long. Whoops ^^; TW for blood play, dubcon?, and general Entity!Samuel shenanigans.))

-

“I bet you think you’re real cute letting them put their hands all over you...”

Sam practically jumped out of her skin, every hair on her body standing on end. It haunted her at this point, that voice, memories full of blood and pain and terrifying euphoria. She whirled toward it, eyes wide and shoulders stiff, stumbling away a few steps. Him. That… thing. Not Samuel. The twisted inverse. 

He’d seen that? She hadn’t even done anything! She’d just been hiding in the locker, she hadn’t expected someone else to join. She hadn’t asked them to put their hands on her, and she wouldn’t have. And all over was certainly an exaggeration. 

But maybe he could see into her head… Maybe he knew the thoughts and images that had paraded there, how she’d wanted more contact, more affection, more attention. She hadn’t said a single word to her teammate, just waited with them, her touch-starved mind imagining, but… he knew. He’d been right to carve the label into her skin, a spot that was suddenly tingling. Slut. He knew she wanted, and she wanted so much. 

“...We’ll see how cute you look later, when I get you home.” 

Her hand lifted to her mouth, stifling her own whimper, brows pulling together. That wasn’t fair. She’d been so good this trial. She’d done her work, she’d helped her teammates, she’d run when she was supposed to run, and jumped when she was supposed to jump. A model survivor. ...Maybe. Her teammate had found her, on accident, when running from a killer. A killer she could’ve distracted to give them a chance to escape. There was always more she could do. 

The self-doubt rooted itself in her mind, even as the entity disappeared again, leaving her to finish her trial. The doubts themselves tripped her up, her performance suffering for it, but at least she tried to do better, even if she ended up doing worse. 

She ended the trial on the hook. It was something she dreaded. She knew how this went: all of her soul, scraped out of her chest, leaving just the smallest piece left to replenish itself, leaving her ringingly hollow and apathetic for hours afterward. 

Except this time, it was different. Slightly.

-

“Sammy, how kind of you to join me.”

It wasn’t a choice, sits on the tip of her tongue, but she seals her words behind closed teeth. He probably already knows that. That’s probably why she’s here. 

Here being… somewhere else. Not the vast emptiness of the void - the place she only ever half-remembers in the wake of a sacrifice - and not the campfire. Somewhere else. The fog. 

“Such a trial for you, today.”

She feels constantly uneasy. Unsure if she should speak or remain silent. He gagged her, in the past. She’s not sure if speaking will invite that treatment again. She’s stuck in her head, thinking about it, worrying about it, analyzing why she’s here and what she can do to leave. 

“How do you think you performed?”

It feels like a trick question. She’s crawling with self-doubt, after his appearance in-trial. She could’ve done better. She could’ve done much better than she did, could’ve been more altruistic, more clever, could’ve taken more risks and made more saves and done more. 

The entity takes a step closer and Sam almost jumps, feet shuffling back slightly as his lips split into a sharp grin. She feels the ghost of faded bruises and not-yet-faded scars. The word carved into her belly tickles, sending unwanted sensation to nestle between her thighs. Bastard. Monster. Whatever he did to her, it wasn’t normal. Whatever he does to her, still. Still pulling his little strings, plucking here and there in his web of manipulation. 

“It is a very simple query, my dear.” 

His voice alone gets to her. That twisted echo under the words; all overwhelmingly other in comparison to who that body used to be. Her skin is crawling, making her twitch and squirm. He takes a step closer, and her eyes fall to his feet, unable to look him in the face. 

“Did you play the game, Sammy?”

Why does he make her doubt so much? She thought she did - she was sure she did - but now, her resolve feels liquid. She uneasily takes a step back, unable to answer. 

“Did you do your best?” 

Another step forward, another shuffle back.

Is honesty the best policy here? She feels like it might be. She can imagine his fingers digging into fresh cuts, reminding her do not lie to me, pet. 

After a moment of hesitation, she shakes her head.

She can feel his pleased smile, even if she isn’t looking at him. He takes another step forward, she takes another back. Her ankles hit string. Turning her head to look, her stomach flip-flops anxiously; red string, more red string. A spiderweb strung up between trees, interwoven with fog. 

“Do you think you deserve to be punished?”

His voice is too close, and when Sam turns back to look, he’s mere inches away. He radiates power and control and sheer malevolence. A curiosity for destruction and pain. Not a drop of humanity in him. 

She whimpers quietly, stumbling back again, the string vibrating against her back with her movements. Her body is already lighting up in all the wrong ways, every impulse that’s been rewired backwards.

Dark brows lift expectantly, and Sam knows she has to say something. 

“...Yes?” she breathes, almost pleading. If she accepts it, maybe, it will be quick. Perhaps penitence will yield mercy. 

His head cocks slightly. Is he… pleased? Maybe? Or amused? 

When his hand lifts, Sam flinches back, catching herself on the web before she can fall. String catches between her fingers, bouncing slightly, unsteady, but keeping her upright as she holds on tight. It won’t keep her stable, but it will keep her on her feet. But was she ever really stable to begin with? 

Undeterred by her movement, the entity cups her cheek with that mockery of affection, and her eyes shut tight.

Touch.

It means so much to her, and it’s not fair that he’s perverted that, that he’s corrupted it with whatever fucked up ability he has. 

“But what is the appropriate punishment for such behavior, hm?” 

The hand on her cheek trails down, brushing past her jaw, down the side of her neck… 

An uncontrollable shudder goes through her, the effect of such close proximity to the source of intoxicating nightmares. Her mouth waters. Her body heats. He’s leaving a trail of ruin in the wake of his touch. 

He pauses, lifting his hand away for a moment, and Sam risks opening her eyes, only to bounce back against the web again as she yelps at the sudden appearance of a familiar knife. Her motions do her no favors, the tip biting into her skin briefly before the entity pulls it away slightly. Strings start to weave over her grasping hands, keeping them out of the way. 

“You will keep your volume to a reasonable level, please. As much as I enjoy your lovely array of sounds, do try to hold your tongue, pet. You know what will happen if you do not.”

Her whole body is on fire as the knife slices down the front of her clothes, just as it did before, and tears spring into her eyes as much from frustration as panic. Right down through the first M of SAMMY where it’s carved into her chest, nicking the front clasp of her bra, but this time not cutting skin nearly as much. He’s changed the angle. Like maybe he’s not just trying to slice her open. 

He doesn’t cut through her shorts, but he does pause, hooking his finger through a belt loop and tugging them down slightly to admire the SLUT scarred under the waistband. 

“Such excellent craftsmanship; how nice to see you still hold the title.” 

She’s flushing a brilliant pink as the tip of the knife teases across scarred skin, threatening to cut but not quite doing so, and her thighs press together anxiously. She can’t help it. Something about him, the air around him, clicks something in her brain. Her toes curl and her breathing is labored, eyes going dark even as she whines quietly. This wasn’t supposed to go this way. 

She wants it. She wants to be touched, and toyed with, and granted pleasure. Craves it. 

And she hates that. Hates him. Wants him. 

It’s miserable. 

And she can feel his eyes on her, drinking in that misery, that desire, that shame— feasting on it.

The strings have crept and wound and worked their way to hold her against the web. Not so restrictive as rope, but still keeping her there, keeping her upright. Probably stronger than they look. 

When the entity leans in closer, she feels the force of that aura like a heatwave, biting her lip, fixing her eyes on his collarbone to avoid his gaze as her body calls out for him. The knife is gone, though she doesn’t realize that until she feels an empty hand on her bare arm. She jerks in surprise as two fingers hook under her waistband, back arching and pushing her hips toward him as he pops open the button of her shorts. 

“My, such an eager whore.” 

The strings fall away from her arm as his touch  glides past them, grasping onto her wrist. She’s confused, and aroused, and embarrassed, and isn’t quite sure what’s happening, even as he lifts her fingers to his mouth.

It feels backward, like he’s taking her job from her - and then Sam is hit with the mortification of finding it her job - when he wraps his lips around two of her fingers, tongue sliding between them briefly as he smiles. Heat is pooling in her belly, throbbing between her legs as his other hand tugs down the denim around her hips.

She needs so much. Hungry for attention. Squirming like a fly in his web.

The subtle sucking at her fingers has her breath shallow and another soft whimper hummed from her lips before he lets her go, and she still feels wet skin tingling. Whatever he is, that isn’t normal. Some kind of drug, or pheromone, or something in that saliva, some kind of mental and physical stimulation.

“Touch yourself for me.”

The order alone makes her draw in a short breath, and heat rushes to her head again. ...And… other areas. 

She pauses, wondering if maybe she misheard, or…

But he steps away, watching her expectantly, and she suddenly realizes her position. The string may be keeping her up, but it’s allowed her arms free, apart from where her shoulders are wrapped into the web. She’s got two - trembling, fumbling - hands and a body that craves attention. If she just… pretends he’s not there…

Closing her eyes, her hand trails between her legs, fingers still glistening from the entity’s attentions, and the brush of wet on wet causes lips to part in a sharp inhale. Definitely something unnatural about that; how it sends her arousal higher and higher, making her hunger for more. Her other hand grips at her chest— going from nervous to eager to desperate in an instant.

Her breath is heavy, eyes closed, focusing on the wealth of sensations that have only been heightened by the entity’s gift.

It’s good. She’s the one in control, grinding against her own hand and rubbing just where she wants it, just how hard, backing off when necessary; she is the one in control, and it’s good.

In the silent, fog-dampened woods she can hear the wet sounds like a bell of shame, but she’s too taken in by it. Grinding, arching, writhing, rolling and twisting and playing with herself where she’s trussed up on the web, breath heavy and interspersed with short moaning whines.

She wants more, she’s hungry for it— she wants him, and she’s disgusted with herself, but she has hands and she can use them and she’ll take out all of that frustration on her own body and force her mind out of the way.

Pleasure. Just pleasure. 

It doesn’t take long.

She can be brutal with herself, and she needed it so badly, and even if she’s slipping out of her usual over-analysis, she’s still dimly aware of her situation and wants it to be over. No matter how good it might feel, there’s still that psychological weight. 

She knows her body well enough to find what works and push and push and push it. Her muscles seize up, breath caught in her throat and a throb off pressure in her head as she comes undone, choking on breath, chewing her lip, head thrown back. Her whole body is shaking in the aftermath, fingers still soothing a nipple for a moment as she heaves breath after breath, relying on the web itself to keep her standing. The release of tension is a blessing. Not a punishment. 

But the feeling of his eyes on her, taking in her debauched figure, half-naked, wetness smeared over her hand and thighs, sweat making her sticky… Her skin burns. Her chin falls to her chest, crumpling. 

Debased. By her own hands. 

“Did I say you could stop?”

The noise she makes is unintelligible, her body practically convulsing for a second. A plea, though she’s not sure what for. 

Lies, she knows exactly what for.

Don’t make me.

Except it’s not just ‘don’t make me.’

Don’t make me do it alone.

She almost sobs at that realization. How much she wants him. How she’ll settle for anything, if it comes with the right touch. Cut her again, just do it while thrusting into her. It’s all she wants. All she can think about. Whatever he’s made of, it’s intoxicating, and it’s taken up residence in her head, worked its way into her bloodstream. She’s addicted. It’s unnatural, this hunger that controls her in his presence.

“We have more to go, my dear. Another.”

She can’t bring herself to look at him, not when she knows the burning of those black and gold eyes. She just breathes. A moment. Takes a second to collect herself, to ready herself. “...Please…”

He doesn’t ask please, what? Doesn’t prompt her to continue, and doesn’t scold her for her hesitation. He doesn’t need to. Because he knows she’ll do it anyway.

He broke her with pain before, now he’s simply reinforcing that he has her obedience, testing her submission, and he must know how much easier it is for her to follow orders of this variety. Working his way up. If he can get her to do this to herself for his amusement, surely that can escalate. How long before there’s a knife in her hand and she makes no attempt to turn it on him? How long before he doesn’t have to be the one slicing her flesh, til she’ll do it of her own accord; some twisted offering to the entity. 

The silence is oppressive when she can feel his will hanging in the air. 

A shiver rolls through her and she whimpers softly. Her hands return to their task again, gentler this time, having to start slower. 

It goes on.

He touches her once. Just once. The web weaves its red string around her again, keeping her arms away, and the knife retraces the letters on her stomach. Shrieking, sobbing, she bites her lip harder than intended, wincing and hanging her head as blood slowly drools from her mouth. 

Thin fingers trace the freshly opened scars, lifting to wipe at the blood rolling down her chest, and he tastes the liquid like it’s honey, humming his satisfaction. In a fluid move, half-curious, he drags freshly licked fingers down her body again, drawing a bloody line down her torso before slipping into her.

One touch. A couple short pumps of blood-stained fingers, the brush of his thumb, and she’s screaming release again, buckling with the force of it, arms wrenched by string as the web keeps her on her feet. 

But that’s the end, at least. Blood trickling over the curves of her body as he steps away again, the slick of too many orgasms running down her thighs, soaking into half-removed clothing. Broken and sated and stinging, aching, shivering. 

She thinks she might hear the echo of her scream still ricocheting through the trees. Every inch of her trembles, exhausted. 

“You deserve a reward for being so good today.”

Wh… what?

“What would you like it to be?” 

Sam’s brows pull together, raising her head just enough to look at him, eyes stinging. She looks utterly distraught. Betrayed and confused, and so open with every trace of emotion, every wall so carefully built to hide behind having been torn down by subtle words and ripping claws. 

Good? But… but this had been a punishment. Hadn’t it? She’d… she’d done poorly, and had to be punished for it. ...Right?

“What?” Her voice is barely a croak, throat raw from every noise that had been pulled from her.

“An obedient slut deserves her reward.”

She’s quiet, just staring, unable to grasp the situation entirely. She wants rest, she wants to sleep, she wants to heal. She doesn’t know what’s acceptable, what might draw the wrong kind of response. 

It can’t mean anything good that, after all she’s been through, the first thing that comes to mind is still how much she aches for deeper penetration. She can’t take it, she doesn’t - and shouldn’t - want it— especially not from him. 

Shaking her head, she tries to find words. “Let me go.” 

His head cocks again, that inhuman curiosity.

“Heal the wounds, and clean me up, and let me go.”

He takes a step closer again, and she flinches, sensing that aura pulling at her again, filling her exhausted body with a hollow want. “You are sure that is what you would like?”

No. She’s not sure of anything, not around him. He’s the embodiment of doubt, and she had plenty of that before he ever showed up. “Yes,” she whispers, avoiding looking at him. 

Her eyes snap shut as fingers brush her face again, and her jaw clenches, forcing herself not to change her mind. 

A hand flattens against the word carved into her skin, and she sucks in a pained breath at the burning sensation as fire closes the wound. She can tell it’s not quite right. Like individual burning sutures instead of the all-covering gauze that usually comes with her own healing abilities. Like too much movement will make them split again. A temporary fix. 

The hand on her cheek strokes gently, lips grazing her temple. “We will see each other again soon, my dear.” Everything in her writhes in trepidation. “...Mind you behave yourself.”

[elejahfanfic]

The Vampire Files/3

Fanfiction

Part 3

AU crossover story with tvd characters

Elena  Gilbert and Nick Amaro

are FBI agents, investigating paranormal activity and all different strange cases involving demons, witchcraft, vampires.

There will be other tvd/to characters in it, as well as characters from other fandoms -

ft. Joel Goran from Saving Hope

warning: smutty, 18+

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧˚

_gifs are not mine *

tags_ @miguelsbrat​

thanks so much for reading. I hope you like it. xoxo

✽-( ˘▽˘ ❁)/✽

Days after

Whitmore

Bonnie Bennett finished with her report, sending a copy over to the FBI. Elena's remark about the amulet and mentioning the name of the monster that was out there killing women, who were not random women, but fellow witches, rattled her. This was not just an Agent, Bonnie thought.

****

FBI Headquarters

Washington, DC

Was Elena just an Agent? Nick wondered. He now took his tablet and opened the Elena’s PhD-'Vampires and Folklore'. Such a simple title to a very extensive read.

He read, 'Throughout history, these beings have resided alongside man. Myths and folktales from all points of the globe speak of beings that feed on the living. From the Japanese Kasha to the Irish Dearg-Du and the Tlaciques of the Mexican Nahautl Indians and the Arabic Algul they exist.

... In closing, the interesting thing to note is that although the creatures of mythology largely contradict the popular view of vampires, they do exist. They exist at all corners of the world and in nearly every culture known to man. Although they exist as superstition and folklore, they persist in appearing in the dark shadows of humanity.’

Nick put the tablet down. This definitely gave him a further insight in his new partner. To Elena this world was very real. They were not catching ordinary criminals.

Although he didn' believe in demons, vampires, curses or any of the superstitions, he had to admit all was very intriguing. She clearly resented the fact that he was assigned to be her new partner. Their effort to bond over pie and coffee didn't go all too well, but it was a step forward in admitting they had a job to do and that was enough. He poured himself a glass of Bourbon.

Flashback

"I guess they assigned you there because she needed someone who is cool-headed," Camille said to him as they talked earlier on the phone,"maybe they are testing you-"

"Or- they are testing me, all right! And the cool-headed thing- you are too generous- I shot the deputy."

"And you were cleared. He happened to be in the line of fire. Shall I come over?" Camille reminded him.

"No. I have tones to read. Familiarize myself with the demon files she has given me as homework."

"Have fun." Camille said hanging up.

He had no desire to read anymore so he took his car keys and got out of the office.

*********

Elena waited for a man in the Rock Creek Cemetery

"Do you have it?" she said as he finally got to the .meeting point

"Here" Klaus passed her a little box.

"When is the Initiation ritual?"- Elena asked.

"March 23rd- full moon" the attorney said.

"Right" Elena said.

"You think this is connected to Jackson's murder?" Klaus said.

"Yes," Elena said putting the box in her bag,"and it had nothing to do with the investigation we were on. The witches wanted him dead. And they will cover it up."

"Why do you what you do then?"

"Why are you?" she posed a counter question.

"Maybe there is no real answer." Klaus said.

"Maybe to brings some order in all disorder?!" Elena said and without any goodbyes she walked away.

Klaus took his phone and dialed a number.

******* At Rebekah's house, that evening

Rebekah and Caroline sat down for supper.

"No answer" Caroline said trying to get hold of Elena again.

"Have some more wine," Rebekah offered,"She told me she will come"

And not long after, Elena rang the doorbell. And so the three friends sat down for meal, to chat and unwind. All of them had several crappy months behind them. And this little get-together was to give one another wind beneath the wings.

"Joel has accepted to work at Jeffersonian" Rebekah said looking at Elena. Namely, Joel was her ex-boyfriend.

"Good for him" Caroline said taking a sip of the cocktail, her eyes also swaying at Elena. Caroline noticed that yet again she was there physically, but mentally she was somewhere else.

"So, how is he really?" Caroline asked Elena.

"How is who really?" Elena looked at her friend somewhat absent-minded.

"Your new partner. Come on- spill!" Rebekah said impatient to hear what Elena had to say about Nick.

"Ok. He is different, that's for sure. He is very text-book. We have a job to do. Catch the twisted criminals!"- Elena said in a sarcastic under-tone.

"This doesn't sound like you're a match made in heaven" Caroline then said.

"We don't have to be. We just need to be focused on the one thing and apply team-work," Elena said,"ok- now what is this thing with you and Stefan?"

"Didn't you say you are never going back there?" Rebekah now looked at Caroline.

" I know I said - and it was just sex" Caroline said following a deep sigh.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" Rebekah didn't understand why she could not draw the line once and for all. "He is never going to give you more- he said so- he is in love with this -whoever she is"

"Don't I know that" Caroline said taking a sip of the drink again.

"Love- who wants it- so overrated anyway," Elena said thinking of Joel.

Rebekah now gave her a look that would kill. "You're not helping!"

"Come on- seriously. Look at us. When do we have time for love? And then if maybe we find the guy- it all just goes to blows" Elena suddenly stood up.

"Where are you going?" Rebekah said surprised she was acting like nothing mattered at all to her.

"I don't know. I just can't sit here and -everything inside of me feels like a ticking bomb- and I can't talk about it with you cos of the investigation." Elena said quite agitated.

"Is it that bad?" Caroline now stood up as well.

"It is that bad," Elena confirmed," I might get suspended or even worse- lose my job."

"It is only a job!" Rebekah then said,"and a wretched one. Dealing with such difficult cases all these years no wonder you are breaking."

"I am not breaking! I am good at what I do. I love this job. I- sorry guys- but I have to go-" Elena took her coat and went out.

Rebekah and Caroline stayed behind speechless for a moment.

"I have never seen her like this. She is always so -" Caroline said not knowing how to label Elena’s behaviour.

Rebekah finished her sentence, "Messy."

Messy, maybe was right, but much deeper, Elena felt like her other life was consuming her entirely. And she was on the brink of spilling it all out to them. I am not the person you think I am. I, Elena Gilbert am a demon hunter. My family. My mother was a demon hunter. My grandmother. My life....my life is not my own. Elena's head throbbed with a horrific sensation that she might fold.

And why was she on the breaking point right now and not before?

Flashback

A couple of months ago

In Alabama

Jackson came to the designated place Elena had gave him directions to. She hopped into the SUV and they took off for Washington.

"So, you found it?" Jackson asked.

"Yes." Elena unfolded the cloth and showed him the dagger.

"Are you sure this is the demon soul dagger we are looking for?!" the Agent asked.

"Positive," Elena answered,"you know that my dreams are not just peachy dreams of walking down the beach."

"What about the curse?"

"That is something I still need to figure out."

"The lawyers released the shaman." Jackson said.

"Well, with this, they will lock him up forever and throw away the key."

With the thoughts of that night, Elena drove to her apartment building. As she got into the garage, she got her phone out.                  

"Nick?" she said as he answered the call,"can you come down to "George's?- yeah- see you-"

She got out of her SUV and walked into the bar she would frequently hang out. Nick arrived some fifteen minutes later.

"Hey" he said as he sat down next to her on the bar.

"Hey-" Elena said back.

He played it cool, but he was amazed that she called him out so out of the blue, and it had nothing to do with a case.

The bartender asked him what he wanted- and he saw Elena drinking beer, so he ordered the same.

"So, after hours, beer?!" he joked a little.

"Hate the stuff, but sometimes, I need its bitter taste to make the sweet taste better." Elena said.

"Right" Nick uttered. More weirdness, he thought. Head she summoned him to share something or just to hang out? Whatever it was, he was ok with whatever. They can just drink beer and she could just be silent. Or they could play a game of billiards, which he suggested.

"Yeah, haven't played like in forever, but I have to warn you- I used to kick ass at the Academy" Elena said.

"Well, I did the same."

They ordered a couple of more beers.

Nick, as well as her were playing as if it was some kind of competition. And he won. Twice. Just barely, but still he won.

"I am really out of practice" Elena said putting the cue stick aside.

"You really hate to lose?!" Nick remarked.

"Well, yeah. But I am not a sore loser. Really, I am not." she walked over to the bar asking for another beer.

"Ok, so - are we going to talk about it now or tomorrow?" he said wanting to know why she had actually called him out.

"I don't feel like talking. Can we just hang and drink beer?"

"Of course we can." Nick said.

"I need someone who will be there and not ask me questions," she now looked at her partner curling a sour smile on taking a silent breath," I ran away from my best friends tonight. People, who care. I don't know why at one moment- I just could not stay there with them.And they have always helped me go through anything. It's just that I want to spare them from dumping my pain on them. They already have enough of their own shit making their lives miserable."

"But- isn't that what friends are for? Tell them any shit?" Nick said.

"Yeah- you're right. And it's true. But, ahm- I just didn't want to suck them into my darkness." Elena tried to reason about her decision to abandon the party.

"But a partner can suck up anything?!"

Elena gave him another serious look, which confirmed what he had said.

"You are also in the darkness with me," she said to him,"sitting in the shadows"

Nick was quiet. The way she said it was like she reached down his soul reading it like a book.

"Don't mind me. Just get so morbid at times. Tomorrow, the sun will be up again and I will be ready for anything, partner," the brunette then said,"I’m gonna head home.”

"Me, too” Nick said getting up.

"See you tomorrow," Elena said,"thank you. And I want a rematch!"

"Anytime, partner," Nick said,"see you tomorrow."

Jumping into her car, she drove off to the University Hospital. She was too weary, and home was the last place she wanted to be.

“Hey, Sophie” Elena said as she walked in the special ICU where the coma patients were held.

“I so need you to wake up - things are not good,” Elena muttered to the witch inhaling deeply,“I need you. They killed Jackson. But to kill it, I need the angel blood. And even when I find it, I can’t do it without you. There is one good news. I have found the Salem witch.”

Elena now went to tell her friend and curator of the Smithsonian museum a little bit about her new partner, as well as her current state of mind. Some half an hour later, she made her way to the car, stumbling at her ex, the dashing doctor, Joel Goran at the elevator.

“Working late” he said.

“I - went to see Sophie.” Elena said.

“Ah” Joel uttered adjusting his backpack, keeping to his side of the elevator.

“I hear that you are going over to the Smithsonian? Had enough of being a rock star surgeon?”

“No - my hand is - I can’t do surgeries anymore. My hand still has tremors and - yeah. So, I’m going to join the Bones team.” Joel replied.

“Right - sorry about your hand” Elena said.

“I’m sorry about your - partner.” Joel said sympathetically.

“Thanks” Elena nodded a little.

And then there was the look. The one that spoke more than words. The one that blurred all the lines.

Half an hour later, in Joel’s apartment, the blurred lines became even more blurry.

Elena pushed him back on the bed and straddled his hips and sank down on his cock, taking him as deep as he would go.

His hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her down, with a hoarse groan.

She melted against him, taking him inch by inch until, at last, she had accepted all of him.

“You feel so good,” he whispered, looking up at her through heavy eyelids., 2so good.” His fingers traced paths up and down her spine, coaxing soft moans from her. Lifting her hips and grinding downward, gyrating to stimulate her nub. She used him for her pleasure, ignoring his needs. She just wanted to get off, and he didn’t seem to mind. She took him faster, rotating slightly with each downward stroke. His hips rose off the bed to meet her strokes. He bit his lip, his head tossed back.Watching his expression was almost better than the waves of pleasure coursing through her own body. He could feel her trembling, and the way she arched back, he knew she was nearly ready to crash. He now flicked over her nub with her thumb, making her orgasm spiral out with a shuddering cry. She fell down on him, breathing against his mouth, “I so needed this.”

She pulled away from him off him and rolled her onto her back in the center of the bed, taking a small breather.

Elena was not a selfish kind, and she now pulled him to her, streaming her hands down his abs, wrapping her hands around his cock. She sat up, ready to take him int his mouth, but Joel stopped her. “I want to feel you - I need to be inside you “

She had not objections. Kissing her, he pushed her soflty back onto the mattres, he climbed on top of her and slid inside her. Her eyes drifted closed. Her back arched, rubbing her belly against his. He grunted under his breath, latching his lips onto hers as he pushed in slowly. The brunette closed her eyes and concentrated on the perfect rhythm of his long and deep strokes.

His quiet gasps in her ear sent her lust spiraling out of control yet again. Her hands moved down his back, digging into his flesh as she bucked her hips against him. His strokes shifted, becoming faster and harder. She felt like heaven and he lost himself now completely. Wrapped up in her warmth, he quivered and shook against her.

His gasps grew shaky and punctuated. Moaning softly his name, she soon brought him over, and he shuddered violently, groaning hoarsely against her shoulder, holding tight, till his spasms stilled.

Pulling out, he collapsed beside her, eyes closed, breathing hard. “This was - so amazing. I missed this -”

“It was.” Elena said getting up from the bed.

“Where are you going? Come back.” Joel sat up.

“I can’t stay” Elena said and disappeared into the bathroom.

Joel crashed back on the bed, taking a deep breath.

_to be continued

[ice-cream-nekogirl]

What am I now? What am I now? What if I'm someone I don't want around? I'm fallin' again I'm fallin' again I'm fallin'

-’Falling’ by Harry Styles

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dRDKoMcgavw

I’ve seen and read a lot of fanfictions where it’s told from the POV of one character and that inspired me to write this but... it’s not happy... much... and Harry Styles’ song just also inspired me to write out this fairly sad piece because that song is such a tearjerker man..

I like to this of this as an inside look of the witch's mind and thoughts as well as her opening up about her issues.

WARNING: This small piece contains mentions and/or references to suicide and intrusive thoughts. Reader discretion is advised.

Interestingly... I've come to realize that Amy's behavior makes sense if you know what Borderline Personality Disorder is and what the symptoms are. Many of which she actually checks out for. I study a lot of psychology in my spare time and to my surprise, Amy ended up showing some symptoms even though I swear to God it wasn’t my intention, it just kinda... ended up like that.

For more info or insight on BPD: 

https://www.yahoo.com/lifestyle/comic-perfectly-shows-jealousy-looks-232343129.html

https://psychcentral.com/lib/loving-someone-with-borderline-personality-disorder/

Amy’s POV:

Apparently most children get their quirks at the age as early as 3 or 4, but when I was 4 years old I didn’t get mine. 5, 6,7,8,9, still nothing. That was it, I guess that just meant I was going to be quirkless forever, on the bright side at least I would be part of a minority that I could one day fight for I thought. If I’m gonna be quirkless I would own it. That’s what I told myself.

But then one day when I was 9 years old I woke up over my bed, floating around my room until my mom came in to make sure I came down safely. She told me everything, how her side of the family has a bloodline of witches that dates all the way back in the 1800’s and one of my great great great grandmothers or something had the same genetic affliction. Just like that everything became different, when I thought it was awesome at first, started to learn just what I am and who I am, and the history of all the great witches of the past. Slowly but surely I discovered more powers about myself, more powers I would one day learn.

Everything was brilliant… until the following year my parents were killed by witch hunters. Dad wasn’t even a witch, he was just an ally, he loved my mom and I more than anything, and they killed him for that. Worst part? When the heroes got to me before I could get barbecued, they didn’t even kill them.

I suppose that’s where it all begins though, after that they decided I wasn’t going to be safe enough here and that my new powers that were manifesting would be too much for them to handle. And because they didn’t want to deal with me, they called on the other witches on the other side of the world. From then on out, I had to leave my old life behind, my best friend and his family who treated me like family. I went from orphaned, to abandoned, to a bloodbath. 

As soon as I got to New Orleans everything else was just as unsafe. Asshole frat boys, an actual Minotaur man, fucking zombies, voodoo witches and of course MORE witch hunters trying to kill us. And also an immortal racist, a Frankenstein Frat boy, a tongueless butler who has tea parties and sex with dead teenage girls, a wicked voodoo deity and an old, axe-wielding serial killer that was once a ghost in Robichaux. Yup. But that’s just a perfectly average day at Robichaux, and a perfectly average day in my fucked up life.

At least I had my sisters like Zoe, Madison and Misty, and Ms. Cordelia and how can I forget Ms. Myrtle? That woman needs to be a fashion icon and I will do justice by her and make sure the world knows who she was. And even Ms. Fiona. The bitch who used to be in charge was pretty badass, I mean if it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be the strong, independent witch bitch I am today. Yeah I have a ton of issues because of the borderline emotional abuse she dished out on me and the other witches but still...

My new sisters were by far the least terrible part of the entire thing. Which is why it still breaks my heart to think about how some of them died, because not all of them came back... 

Through all of that I kept myself up though. I learned how to fight back and fight alongside my sisters. I learned how to be strong, how to rely on myself and my sisters because we knew that no hero was going to come to our rescue. I had to be strong, I had to have thick skin and an elastic heart. Yeah that’s right I referenced Sia, she’s an awesome singer, just like Stevie Nicks. Amazing women, inspiring...

Sorry, getting off-topic. Anyhoo, I’ve realized though that it’s better that way. Being with the witches showed me the truth of the world, how the world looks at us and how it wants us to look. We have to be perfect, we have to be charming, we have to smile and look pretty. Why? Because the heroes have to be there to save the cute and pretty damsel in distress so they can feel powerful. 

This idea of heroes and villains is really all just bullshit... all of these villains I’ve seen thus far... they’re kittens compared to the evils and horrors I’ve seen here. It’s not just New Orleans, but I mean Bloody Face was a monster back in the 50��s, then the man who made the Hotel Cortez, he was pure evil and still haunts that hotel to this day. James Patrick March. Evil. Pure Evil and he murdered just to feel something, innocent people who didn’t deserve it. Dr. Arthur Arden, a.k.a Hans Gruper, the Nazi doctor who hid under a disguise and performed horrifying experiments on humans in the insane asylum of Briarcliff. Instead of helping those poor people, he just murdered, butchered and tortured them for his sick experiments. So many lives ruined, mutilated. The victim’s last moments were nothing but pain and a desperate wish for death until he put a bullet through their heads.

Murders, monsters, all of them. They all murdered for fun, and then even normal people were evil, the ones who valued their pride and selfish desires over anything and destroyed innocence itself just to achieve that. 

Those are the real evil people. All For One? Overhaul? Shigaraki? They couldn’t slice a loaf of bread with the amount of sharpness they had all put together. 

Those ‘villains’ that All-Might and my friend Midoriya have fought thus far are nothing compared to the monsters I’ve seen. They’re all a bunch of kitty cats, but I’ve seen and known killers. Real killers. Real monsters. 

A woman from an old asylum once said that ‘all monsters are human’ and she was right, because the monsters I’ve seen were humans. The worst of humanity and I've seen it all. What heroes choose to ignore though is that it's in all of us, and that those who choose not to do shitty things is what makes a hero apoarently. What a crock of shit...

But I guess monsters are just another thing that the heroes like to glamorize so they can fight and save the world from what they deem as the real monsters of the world. When I showed that I wasn’t a sweet and gentle girl as he believed, Midoriya looked at me like I was a monster, which just proved to me that he’s a part of what I’m fighting, and that that’s what this society wants, a good little girl who does good things all for the sake of this society. And I’m a monster because I’m not a good little girl, my sisters aren’t good little girls, no, we’re not a bunch of sad girls who are just waiting to be rescued, we’re witches. We’re not giving those motherfuckers the satisfaction of saving the poor damsels in distress because we’re not, we’re powerful and we don’t owe them anything, not a thanks, not a hug, not a flash of our tits and especially not a goddamn smile that men just love to see on women. 

Men like that are afraid of women like us, they’re afraid of women who aren’t afraid to get ugly and dirty our hands with blood. Afraid of women like me. And I learned how to fight, I was able to keep myself flying, because that was my first power, flight. I can fly based on how I feel, or on how much willpower I put into it. My power comes from my emotions and no fucking misogynist can tell me my emotions make me weak because I can do anything I want based on how I feel and how much willpower I have.

Lately though, it’s been nothing but willpower, as the older I get the more I realized that I’m not loved in this place. I wouldn’t be missed if I disappeared and I know it. I know it. But in life young people like me have to keep going even though we’re also gifted with the power of being painfully aware of all the bullshit that adults try to tell us is the truth, but we know better than that, they just don’t get that we’re not as stupid as we look. Although the sad part is, some of us ARE and they buy into the bullshit and try so hard to be the perfect little shitheads these assholes want us to be.

I can’t do that though, that’s not me. I wish it was sometimes though, who knows, maybe if I was that kind of person then maybe I would be liked by everyone, but that’s not me. Maybe that’s why I won’t be missed, maybe that’s why I’m forcing myself to fly every damn day just to make it through. Forcing myself to pretend that everything’s fine and smiling like a fucking idiot just to make everyone happy and not let them be miserable as me, but this shit’s hard, it’s hard to act like you’re okay when you’re not.

And I’m too aware of this shit, too aware to be truly ignorant and I call people out if I think they sound ignorant. So I’m not surprised when they end up leaving me or trying to tell me to be nicer and that I shouldn’t be blaming anybody or anything just because I’m a cynical and miserable bitch. Yeah, I’m a bitch but I can’t help it. At least I know my shit, I’d rather be a miserable bitch than an ignorant one.

Yet here I am, constantly miserable, constantly thinking and constantly aware that I’m nobody’s favorite person.

That’s just it. I’m not surprised by anything, because everything I do, everything I say, there’s always something bad behind it, that’s the idea I give everyone. I know it, it shouldn’t bother me but apparently, I can’t bring myself to fly because I’m happy, because I’m not. And then there’s always something that shows up in my life, something to make me feel some type of way, not a good way though. I can’t help the way I react to some things, I wish I could though, a normal person would be able to just go out and live life the way everyone else does. But I’m not normal. I never was. And every single day I’m reminded of it, every single day I remind myself it.

Every time I fly it’s through willpower alone, not because I’m so excited that my feelings can make me fly. No, lately I haven’t been able to feel a goddamn thing, and ironically that’s what hurts the most.

For someone who’s first gift was flight and for someone who’s powers allow them to fly, I’m just… falling. 

Constantly, every time I fly, I just feel like I’m falling as the weight of this world just keeps beating me down until one day I eventually hit rock bottom.  I don’t expect anyone to catch me, not even my loved ones. I feel like I’ve hurt them enough. Everyone I love, I end up hurting in some way because I’m just a jealous, overzealous, toxic and cynical bitch. I don’t deserve them and they don't deserve this. All this poison, all this anger and problems, I don't want that for them.

So I don’t tell them that I’m falling when I’m flying. If I’m gonna fall, I’m not going to drag them down with me.

Rock bottom almost doesn’t sound like a bad idea at this point. There are times where I get so frustrated with everything, so angry and so pissed off that I need to get away from everything and everybody and I let myself fly upwards. I just fly as high as possible, so high that I’m in the clouds and I can no longer see the rest of the world beneath me. 

God... sometimes I get so high that I just want to stay up there. I want to stay feeling so high and so powerful like nothing can stop me. I’m invincible when I’m up so high. And yet that honestly terrifies me too, because when I’m up so high I forget everything, even the things and the people I don’t want to forget. How could I ever want to forgive some of the people I love the most? 

When I remember them, that’s when I regain my vision and I start to see how high I’ve gotten, and how far it is to go back down. Everyone can see me and they can see how far I’ve gone, even up that high I can still see their disappointed faces and that just no longer makes me feel so invincible anymore. Because then I start to think ‘here I am’ up on top and yet I’m all alone up here. 

Sometimes when I’m up that high is when I start to think about just letting go of the willpower and letting myself fall from such a distance, close my eyes and just let everything go. Let the gravity just bring me back down until I hit the ground.

 And then I wonder, would that matter at all? Would it be better that way?

But as usual, I can never think of a fucking answer… other than that I should probably just go back home because I have people waiting for me. Ashlen, Hitoshi, Katsuki, Madison... I hope they're not too worried about me... I know they want to see me come home even though I’m the last person I want around, and I honestly don’t know how they want me around. 

Yet I guess it’s enough to make myself fly a little more, just to go back to them, because in the end I feel a little bit of something when I’m with them. They’ve moved my wicked heart, even when I think I’m better off dead, they make me fly. 

I don’t know if I saved myself, or if it’s them who saved me, because frankly it’s too late to save me, but I’m still here. I’m still here so I can go home and see them.

God... I haven’t been home for a while, but I’m on my way back home, I know they’re waiting for me, probably worried about me too.

Ash, Toshi, Katsu, Mads... You guys don’t have to worry, I’m coming home now. After all, I wouldn’t miss seeing your smiles for the world. 

[randomnessunicorn-imagine]

👐 Undertale Fanfiction 👐

When I read this prompt, he’s been the first character that crossed my mind and so here we are with another horror story (I hope it’s creepy enough). Gaster is one of my favourite characters, and Fell! Gaster is the coolest of Underfell for me, I like him a lot and so this fanfiction is for him. Since I don’t write about him so often it’s the right time to do it! And I decided to complete that line since it’s still a bingo game and I have to complete every line and column, lol. I’ll try to do it with logic.

Enjoy the reading!

FANDOM: Undertale

PAIRING: Fell! Gaster x Neutral! Reader

PROMPT: Vivisection ( by @badthingshappenbingo )

WORDS: 1491

 ☞ Love you to death. ☜

Hotland was a boiling and infernal town but it was also very insidious and mysterious.

There lived a particular personality, the most intelligent and devious man in the Underground.

A man you found fascinating but fearful and enigmatic as well. He was a crazy scientist and it was clear his experiments could not be defined as innocent or safe especially when you could be one of them.  

A primordial fear flowed through your veins every time you thought about him, it was a feeling as hot as the lava that covered this land of desperation and terror.

You did not define yourself as a sinner, you had chosen the pacifist path even if it was the worst path you could ever chose. You only wanted to spread friendship and joy but you found yourself in the wrong place. In the least joyful and friendly place of the planet. You were in the wrong Underground and here the supreme rule was only one: kill or to be killed.

You decided not to kill anybody but to be killed by someone because, perhaps, your nature was sinful just like the others but you were different from others, you were a devout, humble and unconscious sinner.

His name was Gaster and he fascinated you more than everybody else in this mad world. You would have done anything for him, even though you were aware that he did not love you, he would never share your feelings because they were pathetic and accepting them for him would have meant admitting to feel mercy toward a human. The only pronunciation of the word “mercy” was forbidden here.

The man who spoke with hands appreciated your courage, despite you were a human, an inferior creature but, at the same time, interesting and ironically indispensable for his ambitions. Without you, his greatest dream would not have come true.

Your determination was fundamental to his plans and to the liberation of his people.

He was stern and intolerant but something about you made him change his attitude and he even learnt how to be affable and understanding in his cruelty.

 .

.

.

“You made your decision, I'm impressed. No other human has ever gone that far.” Gaster spoke in the austere tone of a professor who encouraged his favourite student to do their best even when this best would mean to sacrifice their own life.

Science was a precious treasure, a strong instrument, but sometimes it was immoral and led people to make atrocious gestures to satisfy their hunger for knowledge. Gaster was a man of science, and his science was as ruthless and merciless as him.

"I’m not about to change my mind. Moreover, I don’t want this decision of mine to be considered as my defeat. I thought a lot about it and there’s no alternative. No other solution.” you declared even if your tone was not disappointed nor wretched. It was the tone of a person who knew their destiny. Of a person who was ready to accept the consequences of their decisions and was proud, determined, to face their own fate. Maybe it was the same voice of a martyr because this was your fate. The fate you have chosen, nobody forced you, you were the only architect of your own fate.

"To be a human, you're brave... And very determined..." he confessed, scanning your soul as it shone brighter than the sun. Your soul was as red as passion, like the fire that burned in the core of this city.

Your determination would finally release the monsters from their prison. This was your decision. Your destiny.

 Gaster spent most of his life studying human souls. The day he’s been waiting for has finally arrived.

He craved for your soul, he desired it more than anything else, maybe he was a little bit egoist and he did not want to share it with the other monsters or, at least, not immediately because as a scientist he had the duty of studying it and discover every secret of it.

Strange how Gaster found you, a miserable and worthless human, so fascinating. Because of your soul, he saw you with the eyes of curiosity.

You were his grandest experiment, you wanted to give everything of yourself to Gaster because the sentiment you felt for him was sincere. This feeling was senseless, how could you fall in love with the person who wanted to study you? It was crazy and you were crazier to deceive yourself like this.

He wanted to use you as his special guinea pig but, despite his madness, you were fascinated, you esteemed his science and you wanted him to love you but it was an illusion. A mere infantile desire. You could only show how much you cared by donating him your soul. In this way, your memory, the memory of your brave and heroic gesture, would be treasured in his mind.

In addition to this, there was a perverse fantasy that resided in your painful soul. Something you were unable to explain to yourself or, maybe, it was another symptom of insanity.

You wanted to be him and only him the owner of your soul, you did not want it to be touched by anyone else and maybe you did not even care about the fate of the monster race, not anymore. The only important thing to you was his satisfaction and you were willing to eradicate your own identity to please him. A sick feeling, the blindness of love, this could not be called love but an unhealthy desire. The same that criminal felt for their executioner. Something horrifying and that should not be possible but you could not do anything to stop it.

You were attracted by his intelligence, his mathematical and calculating mind. By his cold and complex personality. Maybe you were attracted by his psychopathy, too. You were the exact opposite of him, he was what you could never be, and this filled your soul with torment but, at the same time, with passion and determination. The determination he searched for and you were going to donate you.

.

.

.

Your naked and inert body was lying on the bed in his cold and aseptic laboratory.

He was there, he looked at you with two curious pair of orbs. There was no malice in his eyes, because for him you were nothing but an experiment. A body to be dissected and studied in order to understand something more about human beings and their strong soul.

King Asgore was unaware of this little experiment because he would never understand Gaster's studies. He would never have accepted and respected his job as you did. You were his victim, but also the only person who had appreciated his work, illuminating his gloomy life with the light of your enchanted soul. He could not change his mind, this experiment had to go on and feelings were no longer important. Science did not need feelings.

With his sharp scalpel, he caressed your skin and he was tempted by an unhealthy tenderness.

Perceiving the cold blade, your muscles tightened and a shiver ran through your spine but it was not cold but euphoria, the insalubrious desire to be reduced in pieces by him, your beloved torturer.

He was enchanted, watching your face filled with anxiety, your warm skin was sweating thanks to the blade of his scalpel with which he would cut you in two.

Even your soul was trembling, shining and blazing like a sun and your soul would have been his for the rest of the eternity because human souls were immortal.

After having contemplate your body, he made a profound nick on your torso, your blood dripped as a red river. Your breath was irregular, it hurt like death and you screamed, even if you did not want and the loss of all that blood made your vision blind.

Then he licked the blade of his scalpel, tasting you warm blood. The blood of the human he did not know to love, because he was too sick for loving someone or realizing it.

This was the cuirass of your soul, your body, which he was destroying. Your EKC was running wild, and you were even unable to perceive the beat of your heart. It beat fast for him, for the insane love you had for him. It was wrong. You were dying and nobody could save you now.

It was your decision, a mortal decision and you were fine with that.

You breathed your last breath, unable to exist any longer and unable to assist at the rest of the experiment.

 After your death, Gaster has been unable to consign your soul to the king because Asgore did not deserve it, any monster deserved it and Gaster decided to keep it as a memory of you.

Because this was the only way he knew for loving you: destroy you.

[surrounded-by-superheroes]

Queen Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fourteen is Here.

Summary; A shape-shifting girl with a bad past is recruited by Nick Fury into the Avengers. It’s there that she finally starts learning to let people in again and she’s especially intrigued by a blond haired and blue eyed Captain America. Will she learn to let him in? Will her past actually stay in the past?

A/N; Super excited. Next chapter is going to be craaaazy.

Warnings; Language

Words; 3,730

Chapter Fifteen

Assemble

Nat and I draw the eyes of everyone in the room when we walk in, so just Steve, Tony, and Clint. Their eyes all widen, and Nat slips away from me and heads towards Clint.

“Did you shower together? Because I wouldn’t be against seeing that.” Tony teases. I roll my eyes at him.

“Well, no one else was joining her, so…” Nat says playfully, bringing a blush to my cheeks once again. Tony laughs and Clint smirks, but Cap’s face just turns even more surprised as he looks at me. I head over to Tony and Steve sitting on the couch. I put a hand on Tony’s shoulder and kiss Steve’s cheek, noticing the space left between them.

“She was kidding.” I tell Steve. He makes an oh sound but it sounds fake and teasing.

“Hey, Queen. We saved you a spot.” Tony says proudly. I pat his shoulder with a giggle and nod thankfully.

“Thanks, Tony, but I wouldn’t want to come between you and Steve.” I wink at both of them. “I’m going to grab some food.” I tell them and walk over to the kitchen. As soon as I open the fridge and see eggs, I grab them and put them on the counter. I jump a little when I hear a sharp metal clang behind me. I whirl around and find Steve setting a pan on the stove. He smiles sheepishly at being caught helping, but I think it’s sweet. I go over and put my hands on his newly shaved face. He grins and puts his hands gently on my wrists.

“I didn’t know that if I didn’t take you up on your offer you’d find someone else.” He teases. I sigh with playful exaggeration.

“We didn’t shower together. She brought me some clothes and braided my hair and we just talked. Really.” I explain. Steve chuckles and runs his fingers down my braid.

“Uh-huh. I like the braid by the way. And the sweatshirt.” He tells me. He leans down and his breath tickles the hairs by my ear. I giggle as he whispers, and I can hear the smile in his voice when he does. “It looks much better on you than on me.” Then he lets me go and grabs the eggs from the other counter. “Now, let me make you some eggs.” I laugh and nod.

“Deal. Bacon?” I ask, already spinning and grabbing it from the fridge. He hums in confirmation and grabs a pan for me. I get a fork from a drawer as he sprays the pan. I turn the stove on and smile when the bacon sizzles when it touches the hot pan. As the bacon cooks, I grab a clean plate and put paper towels on it to absorb the grease. I remember seeing Steve doing the same thing before. I glance at him as he cooks and take note of the little things he does. His eyebrows furrow just a tiny bit with concentration as he stirs the eggs in his pan, making sure he’s not too rough so it spills. Every once and a while when it gets close to spilling I see his shoulders stiffen and his lips get white from pressure before the tension fades and he releases a breath, as if he just avoided a crisis. It’s incredibly cute. I reach up on my toes and kiss his cheek, unable to resist him. “You know, you’re really cute and sexy when you cook.” I tell him quietly, moving pieces of bacon to the prepared plate. I look back at him and find his cheeks brushed with pink. I purse my lips to stop my ear to ear smile and ask him a question instead, “So who taught you how to cook?”

“Well, my mom was a fantastic cook. We didn’t have much money for a lot of ingredients, so she learned to get really creative with the things we could afford.” He chuckles lightly, “I remember almost every week we’d have a stew made up of whatever was leftover and it was almost always delicious. No idea how she managed it. But she always let me help with something, so I guess that’s where I get my love for cooking from. Actual experience probably came after my mom passed away. I lived with my best friend…Bucky.” He hesitates slightly before saying his roommates name, but when he does it’s as if someone pinched my heart.

“Bucky?” I say the name and it sounds familiar and affectionate coming out of my mouth. Steve doesn’t notice, too caught up in his memories.

“Yeah. It was one of our first few days of living together and I was trying to do something nice for him. He was letting a skinny punk with asthma live with him, so I figured the least I could do was make him a good breakfast. Relatively, anyways.” I focus back on Steve as he tells this story, although Bucky’s name keeps echoing inside my head. I keep my eyes on the task in front of me, listening to Steve intently. I don’t have to look at him to know he’s smiling softly as he speaks. “I failed miserably. I burnt the toast and the spam to hell, even catching the toast on fire.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “I was seconds away from setting our apartment on fire when Bucky came crashing over, throwing the pan and the toaster in the sink. He put water on everything then gave me this look, it was a sort of mix between admiration for messing up so bad and anger for almost killing us both. But Bucky, he just shook his head and put his arm around me, squeezed my narrow shoulders and said, ‘I’ve got to teach you how to cook before you singe off your eyebrows and burn this place to the ground.’” He smiles wildly at the memory, but when he’s finished his eyes are a little shiny. “So, Buck taught me how to cook after that so I didn’t murder the both of us and burn all our food.” He ends and so does our cooking, everything is done. I move the pan off the heat and turn towards him, pushing the annoying itch that Bucky’s name brought up.

“That sounds really nice, Steve. Thank you for telling me.” I thank him quietly. I love hearing about his family. I have never had any experience with stuff like that, until now. He looks at me and smiles sadly.

“Thanks for listening, Ria.” He says and I smile at him. I grab the bacon and take it to the table and Steve takes the bowl of scrambled eggs. We sit down next to each other and start eating in silence. The others hear our plates hit the glass table and come over too. But Tony just makes a sandwich with the bacon and doesn’t eat any eggs, while Nat and Clint take both.

“Your turn to cook tonight, Rogers.” Tony reminds Steve. I perk up a bit and glance at Steve with thinly veiled hope. He feels my gaze and nods, saying yes to my silent question.

“We’ll cook together.” I say and Tony glances from me to Steve.

“Oh. Well, better eat before.” Tony teases and Clint grins from across the table with Nat. I chuck a bit of egg at Tony and it hits his crotch, causing him to look at me with mock betrayal. I see Steve’s smirk and that just makes it even better.

“Honestly, I’m not sure if we’ll be home for dinner tonight, guys.” Nat says seriously. “We’ve got to get Victoria’s parents off the streets.” She looks at me, gauging my reaction. I purse my lips in indecision. I put my fork down and absentmindedly feel my wrists, still able to feel the restraints.

“I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea.” I say, staring at my knees through the glass table.

“Victoria. They’re dangerous. We’ve got to put them away before they start to hurt other people, or worse, succeed with their experiments.” Clint tells me. I look up at him and nod.

“I understand and agree with you, but I don’t think any of you understand how dangerous this actually is.” I say cautiously. All eyes are on me, waiting for me to really explain. I sigh, resigned. “The mission wasn’t to kill any of you.” I tell them, watching Steve out of the corner of my eyes. “It was to bring you to them.” Silence settles over the room uncharacteristically. I continue to fill the silence. “They’re scientists, inventors at heart. Imagine the kind of person they could create if they combined me with Steve, or Wanda with Vision.”

“A monster.” Nat whispers and I nod reluctantly.

“Exactly. Someone who wouldn’t be able to be stopped, not even by us. So, understand that I can’t take you to them. That’s exactly what they want. I will not have any of you ripped apart and remade. I just won’t.” I end, my eyes landing on Steve’s. I see that he understands, but I also know he can’t stand doing nothing. I watch the war in his eyes. It’s between protecting the team, and justice. Those things are high up in the heart of Steve Rogers, but I know which will win. I start shaking my head at him, telling him no.

“Come on. There has to be some way we can do this.” Tony says, looking between Cap and me. I shrug, almost sure that there isn’t. Clint and Nat stare at the table with furrowed brows, trying to come up with a plan. Steve, meanwhile, continues staring at me.

“If we all go in, they can’t catch all of us. We’ll take care of them, then make sure the rest of the team is okay.” Steve says directly to me. I hesitate before answering, weighing our options. I press my lips together absolutely hating the thought of going back and putting the team, my real family, in danger. I look from Tony to Steve and feel my eyes go steely.

“Okay. Okay fine. But look me in the eyes Steven Rogers, look me in the eyes and tell me you would be okay with having what has happened to me happen to any other member of the team. Tell me that Steve, and I’ll go.” I tell him with a calm voice, anger and fear bubbling inside of me. His lips part a little, but he doesn’t answer. Everyone at this table knows his answer. I jump a little when I feel Clint’s hand on my shoulder. I look at him and find his face firm, resolute.

“We’re all willing to risk that, Victoria.” He says. Slowly, my eyes travel around the table to the faces staring back at me. Each face reflects Clint’s and I know they all think the same thing as him. I press my lips together when I finally land on Steve’s face last. I nod at his puppy eyes and he nods back once.

“Alright. Suit up. We leave in ten. I’ll go find Wanda and Vision and update them. Make sure they’re on board.” Steve says and everyone disperses. Nat and Clint are out the door in a second, nearly skipping out arm and arm. Tony watches me, but walks out too, slowly, coolly. Steve and I remain. I stand and he does too. We both stand there for a moment, just breathing. Then, I turn towards him and kiss him full on the lips. His lips are pouty and taste like breakfast, I’m sure mine do too. I’m on the tips of my toes and his hands are immediately at my waist, steadying me. One of my arms is wrapped around his neck and the other has my hand in his blond hair. My hand makes a fist in his hair and the other in his shirt, unwilling to let go of this ever again. While Steve seemed surprised at first, he seems to be getting used to being randomly attacked by me. His lips respond under mine with the same tenacity as mine, although I suspect if he could taste an emotion on my lips it would be fear, while his would be confidence. We separate and lay our foreheads on the other’s. My eyes are closed, breathing him in.

“If I lose you Steve Rogers, I’ll kill you. You hear me?” He laughs and that brings a smile to my face, albeit a small one.

“I love you too, Ria.” He tells me and my eyes snap open in shock. His are already open and looking into mine, sure and deep as always. I laugh and give him another quick kiss for knowing me better than myself. I step away from him reluctantly, feeling more alive than ever.

“Okay. Go, you have to tell Wanda and Vision. I’ll borrow one of Nat’s suits.” His mouth turns up a bit at the sides as he pulls me back to him.

“You aren’t going to say it back?” He teases, whispering in my ear the way he knows drives me crazy. I shove him away, shaking my head.

“You’re such a little shit. You know I love you.” I tell him and he laughs, nodding. He gives me one last look before jogging out of the room to find Wanda and Vision. I shake my head and start jogging too. I head to my room, I think I have one of Nat’s suits there. I burst into my room, face still red and a stupid grin still on my face to find a suit laying out on my bed. I walk over to inspect it and find that it definitely isn’t one of Natasha’s. It is a dark color, but it’s definitely more navy than black. A little tag rests on the middle of it. I take it and read it, grinning. “Tell me if you need help putting it on. Tony.” I put the card down to the side and pick up the suit. The material is smooth like leather but stretchy like spandex. I’m out of my clothes in a second and putting it on in the next. Despite Tony’s teasing about needing help, it goes on like a glove and feels like a second skin; breathing and moving with me. I run to the bathroom and balance precariously on the edge of the bathtub to see myself in the mirror. As suspected, the suit fits me tightly, but comfortably. A dark red stripe wraps around my hips and another two go up then veer, going around my shoulders to mirror the back. A thin white stripe goes with them. The colors make me think of Cap’s suit, but much darker. Long sleeves reach out to my hands, but leave my fingers bare. The suit ends at my ankles, but Tony left me some dark red combat boots that I put on. There’s a silver star in the middle of my upper back as well as seven between the lines of red and white stripes on both my shoulders. Finally, just under the scoop neck that shows off my collar bone, is an animal paw print. Silver, just like the stars. I trace it with my finger, loving that Tony thought to make this my symbol.

“It’s the pawprint of a Bengal tiger you know.” I jump when I hear his voice just outside the door of the bathroom. I hop down and slap his now incased in metal arm.

“Scared me half to death!” I scold him. After my heart slows and his smirk fades a bit, I turn for him to admire his suit. “It’s beautiful, Tony. I absolutely love it.” Tony just nods.

“Of course. You needed one as part of the team. The suit will change with you and meld with any part of you that comes outside it. Like if you suddenly wanted a third arm. Plus, consider it a birthday present.” I shake my head at his extravagant gift. He smiles, tapping the stars on my shoulders with glee. That’s when I realize what they represent.

“The stars are the team.” I say. He nods, almost laughing. “And the one in the middle of my back is-”

“Cap, of course.” Tony teases, winking at me. I shake my head.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that I’m wearing his colors too. Subtle, Tony.” I call him out and he shrugs, admitting it.

“Whatever. I just can’t wait until you two get married and have super babies. Then I’ll make them suits.” He laughs as I hit him, blushing red.

“Come on. It’s time to go.” I tell him and head to the balcony. Tony puts his helmet on over his grinning face and hands me a com before flying up and off the balcony. I insert it with a frown before jumping off the edge, letting myself fall for a little bit before choosing what to shift. Instead of doing an animal like usual, I do a complicated shift as I fall. Just before I hit the ground, black, huge wings pop out of my back and halt my descent. I wobble as I fly back up to Tony, but by the time I get there I can fly pretty well.

“Damn.” I hear his voice in my ear and I grin.

“Alright. Ria? Tony? Where are you?” Steve’s voice comes over the com and I look down at the ground for him. Upon sharpening my eyes, I do, as well as Wanda, Vision, Sam, Rhodes, Nat, and Clint. Rhodes, who I haven’t met yet, and Vision fly up to meet Tony and I. Everyone else is on motorcycles and ready to go. We all swoop down until we’re hovering just above them.

“Ha, it’s a bird!” Clint teases and I stick my tongue out at him childishly.

“Seriously, I thought I had dibs on the bird thing.” Sam says saucily. I find him on his motorcycle with his hands on his hips. I giggle at the sight. Rhodes comes over to me in his shining silver suit and holds out a hand.

“Hey, I’m Colonel Rhodes.” He introduces himself nicely and I shake his hand.

“Uh, Victoria. Nice to meet you.” I greet him back, but my eyes are on the civilians staring at us from the ground.

“Do you always have, uh, wings?” Rhodes asks me and earns back my attention.

“No, no. I can shift into whatever I like.” I explain as well as I can in the circumstances. He moves back over beside Tony, but I can hear him talking through the com.

“Oh, well that clears up everything.” He says and I smirk. Once again, my eyes look down at the growing amount of people. We draw some serious eyes and looks from people around us, and it makes me fidgety and nervous. Hopefully, I’ll be seen as an Avenger and not a monster. Flashes go off around us and I know we have to hurry before we draw too big of a crowd. I look at Steve and calm down when I see him looking at me in awe.

“I’ll guide everyone there. When we go in, I think we should split off into groups, but not too small to make us unsafe. Cap, you call it as I take the lead.” He nods to me with a proud smile. I turn and start flying, hearing the motorcycles behind me rev as the team follows me. Here we go.

*     *     *     *     *

We reach a part of the city that’s mostly broken down. The buildings are stained with unknown substances and whatever isn’t covered in cracked concrete is covered in brown, dying plants. If anyone here were to see anything, they wouldn’t say a word. I land in front of the team as they all dismount their bikes. I hope they aren’t particularly attached to them because when we come back they’ll probably be gone. Tony lands next to me as I stare at the old building in front of us.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I hear him say and somehow I find it in me to laugh dryly.

“No one would ever dare to walk into an asylum. Especially if they heard screaming coming from inside. Besides, even if they did, everything is underground. That’s where the old scientists would do illegal lobotomies. Fitting, right?” I joke, but there’s no humor in my voice.

“Damn. You know, you may be even more metal than I thought you were.” Sam says on my left and gets a real laugh from me. He walks behind me, looking at my wings. I retract them and hear his quiet gasp. “Damn.” Sam says again before walking over to the rest of the group.

“Hey, Queen. You okay?” Tony asks kindly. I laugh again, humorlessly, before turning to him.

“No. Not even a little bit.” I respond. Tony pulls back his helmet so I can see his face.

“It’ll be okay, kiddo. We’ll watch each other’s backs. That’s what this team is.” He assures me. I nod, not confident at all. The team forms a circle and everyone’s eyes go to Steve.

“Alright. Time to split. Tony, Nat, Wanda, and Clint, you go around back and head in. Sam, Colonel Rhodes, Victoria, and I will meet you in the middle. Vision, stay outside and make sure no one gets out.” Everyone nods as Steve doles out orders, all except Tony.

“No. I’m sticking with you and Victoria. Send Rhodey with Natasha and Legolas.” He objects and offers a new plan. Steve looks at Tony, examines his expression, then nods. Tony shuts his helmet, but not before I see him grin.

“Gee, thanks man.” Rhodes complains and Tony shrugs.

“Alright, just remember, these people want to catch us not kill us. Use that to your advantage.” Steve ends and we all head towards the abandoned building. Dread fills my heart as we approach the doors and it takes every ounce of strength in me to not turn back. Just before we enter, Steve grabs my hand and nods at me. We go in, the doors close, he releases my hand, and then we begin.

Chapter Sixteen found HERE.

[themanicmagician]

Sweetheart - Final Chapter

Summary: Muffet repays Papyrus for saving a spider by giving him a special bar of chocolate. The secret family recipe keeps customers coming back for more. Papyrus uses it as an ingredient for his brother’s birthday cake, which leads to some…interesting…results.

Papyrus throws open the door to Grillby’s bar. Several of the regulars watch as he marches over to the bar counter. The eponymous bartender is behind the bar, mixing a drink.

Papyrus takes a seat, and leans on the bar counter eagerly. “Grillby, I need to speak with you.”

The bartender’s crackling sounds like a resigned sigh. “Papyrus—”

“No is not an answer I will take! I know you know what I don’t know—and that is where Sans is right now.” Sans is hard to be found when he doesn’t want to be. He has abused this talent of his to slip away from work, to skirt his sacred responsibility to pick up the sock still laying in the living room. Usually Papyrus would be irritated by his brother’s elusiveness, but today he is more concerned above anything else.

The bartender slides the fixed drink over to a customer.

“I…gave Sans my word.”

“Please, I need to talk to him. We just had a bit of a…misunderstanding.” Grillby still looks resolute despite Papyrus’ most pitiful expression. “You know how my brother is. He doesn’t talk things out like a rational skeleton! He just closes himself off from everyone that tries to help.”

An egg timer chirps from the bar’s kitchen. Grillby pauses a moment, staring at Papyrus, before he disappears into the kitchen.

Papyrus slumps on his barstool. He doesn’t know what to do. Sans hasn’t turned up to any of his jobs. Aside from Grillby, there’s no one else Sans is close with, besides Papyrus himself. Even someone as great as Papyrus is rapidly running out of ideas.

Grillby remerges from the kitchen with a plate of steaming fries and an obscenely greasy burger. Papyrus knows it’s not polite, but he can’t help but pull a face at the smell.

Right before Grillby goes to deliver the food to its customer, he slips Papyrus a napkin. The thin fabric is blotted with grease, but Papyrus can make out the note—Snowed Inn, 3B.

~*~

The innkeeper doesn’t look surprised to see Papyrus at all. Without even being asked, she gets out the spare key for 3B and hands it over to him.

“He hasn’t left the room since he signed it in,” She explains in a hushed whisper.

“I’m going to bring him home now,” Papyrus says, determined.

He takes the stairs two at a time, and before he knows it he’s at 3B. Steeling himself, he unlocks the door and steps inside.

It’s clear that Sans was doing little in here besides wallowing; aside from an impressive mountain of crumpled beer cans, nothing much is touched in the room beside the bed itself. Sans lays atop the rumpled sheets. He sits up as Papyrus steps inside, eye sockets going blank. Papyrus quickly seizes Sans’ arm.

“There’s no shortcutting away from healthy discussion, brother!”

“How the hell did you…” There’s alcohol on his breath. Sans scowls as realization dawns. “Knew I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Do not be mad at Grillby. He was worried about you, as I am. Do you know how it felt when I couldn’t find you? I was worried something had happened to you!”

“Well now you know, right?” Sans tries, unsuccessfully, to shrug him off. “So you can go home then.”

“It’s not home without you there.”

Sans finally looks at him, guilt across his features. “Papyrus…”

“Stop this foolish nonsense. Come back with me, and we’ll talk about…things. Or I can just keep holding your arm forever like this.”

“…Ok.” Sans never really could deny him.

There’s a brief tug, and then they’re both sitting on the couch in their living room. Sans scoots himself away from Papyrus, to the far edge of the couch.

Sans’ gaze zeroes in on the cider bottle and glasses, which Papyrus had set out on the coffee table. His eye lights brighten.

“Stars yes. I’m not nearly drunk enough for this conversation.”

He pours himself a liberal amount, and downs it in one swallow. He helps himself to another. Papyrus pours himself a glass, and sips at it before setting it aside. The spice is a bit too much for him, but Sans doesn’t seem to mind the kick.

“So I wanted to, um, talk about what happened the other day.”

“When we fucked,” Sans says, bluntly.

Papyrus pinkens. “Well, yes. That. I wanted to apologize.”

“Why the hell would you be the one apologizin’ to me? It was my own damn fault. I couldn’t help myself.” The words tumble out of Sans’ mouth in a slurred rush. “I’ve tried to hold back for so long and I just couldn’t help it.”

“Wait…so long? How long have you felt this way, Sans?”

Sans takes another long pull of cider. He wipes the corner of his teeth with his jacket sleeve.

“Longer than I should have. Stars, what is wrong with me?”

Papyrus places his hand atop Sans’ own.

“Brother, I understand how you feel.”

Sans pulls away. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I love you and I shouldn’t, I—” Sans hiccups. “I’m sorry.”

Unable to bear seeing Sans in such distress, Papyrus pulls him into a tight hug. Tries to squeeze the sadness right out of him.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Sans says, miserable. “It’s not.”

Papyrus shushes him, patting his back soothingly. The stress of the past week, his drunken state, and the emotional drainage are too much. Sans leans heavily upon him, and within moments he’s asleep.

Papyrus can’t help a fond smile. Of course he falls asleep after such a big declaration!

His smile fades as he thinks over the events of the past few days. Before Sans ate the cake Papyrus made him, there had been no signs of Sans’ lustful affections. And yet, he just confessed that he’d loved Papyrus for some time…

Papyrus leans over—careful not to disturb Sans—and grabs the cider bottle by its neck. The bottle is a little less than half full. Papyrus studies the amber liquid. All monster food is imbued with the magic of the monster that made it. This secret family recipe of Muffet’s—could it possibly have some additional affects to it, as the chocolate did?

An icy dread grips his soul. By giving Sans this cider, did he make him more suggestible? Was Sans merely compelled to say whatever Papyrus wanted to hear?

Papyrus swallows, feeling sick. He has to make this right.

Papyrus slips out of Sans’ hold, positioning him carefully on the couch. He doesn’t stir.

~*~

The spiders are beginning to recognize him, chittering happily as Papyrus marches up to Muffet’s territory. The spiders lead him on to a small cottage, nearly hidden in the nest of glimmering webs.

Muffet is inside, preparing sweets in the kitchen. She kneads dough with two hands, while her others measure out sprinkles and grease a cake pan.

She brightens right up at the sight of him. “Papyrus! How nice of you to stop by.”

Her charm stalls his indignation for a moment, but he rallies again.

“Ms. Muffet, has the food you’ve given me had special properties added to them?”

“Of course! I told you, I use family recipes.”

“Ms. Muffet, I fed Sans everything, the chocolate, the cider, and he’s been acting so strange. He’s…He’s not himself.” Papyrus takes a deep breath. “I need you to give me something to fix him. To put things back to the way they were.”

Muffet pauses her baking, dusting off her hands before approaching Papyrus, face creased with concern.

“Are you unhappy with Sans’ behavior?”

“Well—no, it. It doesn’t matter how I feel. Not if Sans is being forced to be someone he’s not. To love me when he doesn’t, not like I love him.”

“Oh, Papyrus,” Muffet cups his face in her hands, looking up at him with eight sad eyes. “It seems all I’ve done is made things harder for you, dearie.”

“So you can fix him?”

“He doesn’t need to be fixed. The chocolate I gave you was an aphrodisiac, and something of a love potion.”

“But that’s—!”

Muffet presses a finger to his mouth. “It didn’t create false affections. It strengthened existing ones, and gave the consumer courage to express it.”

Papyrus’ eyes widen with disbelief. “Nyeh?”

“Sans’ feelings for you are genuine. The chocolate just gave him a bit of a push. Of course, you were only supposed to give him one square. You magnified the effects to an extreme degree.”

“And the…the cider?”

“Enhanced to help loosen the tongue, and help the imbiber speak freely.”

So that means that Sans’ cider-drunk confession was real. He loves Papyrus, really, truly loves him.

“Wait.” Papyrus’ eye lights narrow. “Why did you give me that special chocolate? What if Sans didn’t feel the same way?”

Muffet’s smile softens. “I could tell from the way you spoke of him, how you felt. The shine in your eyes, it reminded me of how my father looked at my mother. I wanted to give you the chance to confess your feelings. If Sans had not reciprocated, he never would have made a move on you. If he had loved someone else, he would’ve sought them out instead.”

Papyrus envelopes Muffet in a hug; she lets out a surprised squeak at the sudden contact.

“Thank you, Ms. Muffet. For everything.”

~*~

By the time Papyrus returns home, Sans is absent from the couch. The dog has claimed the couch for itself, drooling onto the cushion.

“Sans?” Papyrus calls, as he throws open his brother’s door. “I have something to say—”

Sans freezes, looking like a child caught nicking nicecreams. His room is more of a mess than usual, and that’s saying something. Papyrus’ eyes finally make sense of the chaos, focusing on the open suitcase by Sans’ feat, the heap of clothes and knickknacks piled inside.

“Sans,” Papyrus says, slowly, “What are you doing?”

Papyrus takes a step towards him; Sans takes one back.

Sans scratches the back of his neck, avoiding Papyrus’ eyes. “I’ll be outta your hair tonight.”

“As a skeleton I have no hair, but if I did, I wouldn’t want you out of it!”

“I can’t do this to you.”

“Sans.” Papyrus grabs his brother’s hands, holding them in his own. “I love you. Not just as a brother. I want us to be together.”

But Sans pushes him away. “Papyrus, don’t say things you don’t mean, just to try to make me happy. I’m not what you want.”

“Sans,” Papyrus sighs with frustration. “Right now you’re being a real numbskull.”

Papyrus captures Sans’ mouth in a deep kiss. He wraps his arms around Sans’ small shoulders, pulling him flush to his chest. He pours everything he feels into the kiss.

When Papyrus pulls back, Sans blinks up at him, dazed, face flushed.

“Uh…”

“Are my intentions clear to you yet?” Papyrus presses his forehead to his brothers’. “I love you, Sans.”

Sans’ skull flushes bright blue. “I thought—you never said—”

“I thought I was clear enough from my actions, but I suppose that was not the case. I guess we are a pair of numbskulls.” Papyrus cups Sans’ face in his hands. “I love you, Sans. Truly. In a very romantic sense. I enjoy engaging in sexual activities with you—”

“Alright! Okay. I get it.” Sans interrupts, embarrassed but smiling. “You love me.” Sans presses the side of his skull to Papyrus’ chest. He murmurs, almost to himself, “Stars, I can’t believe this is really happening.”

“It’s real, Sans.” Papyrus hugs him tighter. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

[romancevsreality-blog]

bachelor in paradise, season four, episodes seven and eight: this is easily the worst episode this show has ever produced.

EVERYONE THIS SEASON SUCKS.

That’s all.

Dean cannot stop thinking with his dick and when Robb(ie) tells him that Kristina saw him canoodling and flirting with Danielle in the pool, he’s like, “WAIT, WHY DIDN’T YOU TAKE HER DOWN TO THE BEACH?” Why are you making out with some girl while leading another girl on?! That’s literally not Robb(ie)’s responsibility, he’s too focused on making sure his hair is perfectly resembling a Dairy Queen ice cream cone. He acknowledges what he’s doing is wrong but the fact that his first instinct is “Oh shit, I got caught,” he’s such a piece of garbage. When he goes to Kristina to make nice, she’s ice fucking cold. She makes him tell her why she won’t speak to him1.

Dean gives an innocent version of what he was doing, but he’s like, “looking back, it was bad, but I wouldn’t have done it if I had known you were there.” That’s… not an apology, Dean. He literally does not get it. He just wants to be able to fuck her and Danielle. Kristina keeps trying to get him to acknowledge that his behavior is hurtful and harmful and he just… can’t. He just repeats what she says back to her in hopes that it’ll make it all okay. He says he’s “just being honest” as if it makes everything okay - and even in that, he’s not being 100% honest. He only came to Kristina after he found out that she had seen he and Danielle kissing and flirting the night before. He keeps asking for her patience but he doesn’t deserve it.

Kristina, you literally need to kick this guy to the curb and go make out with Ben Z. Dean is the kind of guy who expects to be comforted when he fucks up instead of holding himself accountable for his actions and comforting YOU for his fuck up. Impact > Intent. At this point he’s not going to realize what a catch you are and has done nothing but push you away over and over again because he’s a goddamn mess who likes you, but not that much.

Meanwhile, Jasmine is thirsty, and this time, it’s all about Jonathan/Tickle Monster/Buster Bluth. I can’t help but think a little of it is to fuck over Karyistin, but a lot of it is to stay on television and get drunk for free while making out with a kind of hot doctor2. Jasmine. BEN Z IS STILL THERE. Jesus Christ I can’t handle any of y’all or y’alls taste. Apparently Buster Bluth tickles while he kisses, and I’m… I need to step away for a moment.

Okay, I’m back. Sorry, I had to vomit. Meanwhile, jackstone is feeling lonely. He’s hoping to get time with Kyrstin now that Buster Bluth is otherwise occupied with literal tickle torture. But, oh wait, here comes...

Oh, it’s... Blake.

Blake, the non-banana eating guy who got into a feud with Syllabic Noise on Rachel’s season of La Bachelorette has arrived and my god, is he sweaty. He’s already sweat straight through his polo, which is white, so it’s basically translucent.

The Amanda Mitchell Standard of Dislikability on Blake: Unfrosted Mini Wheats3.

I can’t think of a bigger letdown because he’s basically there for the Josh Murray (ugh) Special: REDEMPTION. He wants people to know that he’s more than just his 15 minute argument with Syllabic Noise. He immediately takes all the guys aside (save for Daniel) and he shows interest in Danielle, of course. Raven tells him not to mention Syllabic Noise, just to sell himself, so of course the first thing he does when talking to Jasmine is mention him. God. He literally mentions it to every girl he talks to and none of the girls are interested.

Diggy gets it perfectly when he says Blake is the kind of guy you call when you need help moving or a co-signer. Kristina isn’t interested. Danielle isn’t interested. And then...

Here comes Freddy!

I’m just happy there’s more than one black guy on this show now.

I love the producers bursting Blake’s bubble like this, too. Both Blake and Freddy have date cards for a double date because again - this show has a budget of $29.99 for every date. They’re not tipping these waiters shit. All the guys are like “everyone wants to go out with Fred, no one wants to go out with Blake. LOLOLOL.” Fred takes Dominique aside first, and of course Diggy’s like “Ohhhh shit.”4 I’m glad this is Diggy & Dominique’s first appearance in two episodes and of course it’s tumultuous. Dominique tells Fred to go after what he wants, and he immediately asks her out on his date, and she agrees. It’s amazing.

Meanwhile, Blake finally flatters Crysten into a date and she says yes even though she thinks it’s going to be awkward. JACKSTONE is feeling kinds of feels about the fact that Kristen is going on this date and has gone on 100 dates since they went out.

And then we’re treated to the single best five seconds of 2017.

Jack’s walking down the beach alone, walks past Robb(ie), and punches him in the balls.

Someone give this scene a god damn Peabody and an Emmy.

Outstanding. Just good shit right there.

Meanwhile, the girls this season are solidifying themselves as the gang of goopy awful monsters they are and decide to tell JACKSTONE that Christyn said he was a bad kisser and thus they want to show him how to be a better one. This is what happens when you don’t let people have access to any other forms of entertainment. Hell, give them a deck of cards. This is how Lord of the Flies starts. All the girls finally make out with JACKSTONE and confirm that he’s a good kisser.

Blake, Kristyn, Dominique, and Fred’s date revolves around them on a high-adrenaline speedboat, three words I don’t understand in a row. Cristan loses one of her contacts and her mascara is running down her face5. And not in a pretty Beyonce in the “Why Don’t You Love Me” video kind of way, but more like:

Cristan complains a lot during the date, mostly about getting sea sick and losing her contacts. She seems miserable. I laugh becuase they have one of those giant balloon slides set up and if anyone’s seen Below Deck you know how shitty those are to set up.

Back at the villa, Chris Harrison arrives, and they’re all shooketh. Chris Harrison tells them that Fred was the last new (male) arrival and - oh shit! - the rose ceremony is tonight. Probably because they only booked the resort a certain number of days and they gotta get outta there ASAP before Robb(ie) pollutes the water any further with his hair products.

Speaking of Robb(ie), there’s a new date card!!!! He of course asks Amanda Never-Shoulders, who deserves a break from keeping shirts on her shoulders. They go to a fair and get $14 in tickets each. He’s hoping he can have something very long-term outside of Paradise, and that long-term thing comes with a lot of Instagram followers, because that’s what Robb(ie) feeds on.

Seriously: y’all can’t tell me it’s not a coincidence the “Social Media Influencer” has been chasing after the girl with the most Instagram followers there6.

We head into the cocktail party, and a few couples there are completely set - Derek & Taylor, Adam & Raven, and Lacey and Daniel are just weird together which everyone’s okay with. Meanwhile, Ben Z hasn’t found anyone and knows he’s not getting a rose that week because he’s not interested in anyone there and no one’s interested in him, so... He’s leaving. Pretty much everyone’s sad but also like “Go home to your dog, bro.”

Qirsten and Raven are sitting with My Ex-Boyfriend Wells and discussing how all the guys are thirsting over Kriston now. My Ex-Boyfriend Wells is like, “you’re like me last year!” and I’m like, “Fuck the fuck off, Wells!”

My Ex-Boyfriend Wells knows what he did.

Then My Ex-Boyfriend Wells reconfirms why I broke up with him when he’s the one to tell Cristan that everyone’s been calling her Scallop Fingers since she arrived. Like, the scallop story was funny in its initial appearance but it quickly diverted into cruelty - everyone calling her that in their talking heads, the chyron - it lost its humor quickly and they’re beating a dead horse with it now. I admittedly had a Mean Girl period, but that Mean Girl period was called The Eighth Grade. Do you know what Eighth Grade should rebrand itself as? The Human Centipede. You’re just eating shit and shitting out shit because you’re shit. The perpetuation of the scallop story just feels like eighth grade bullshit.

Again - take away people’s access to outside things and you’ll see how they truly are. It’s why I’ll never go camping.

Wells slowly realizes midway through telling the story that a) Kristan had no idea about this story or this “nickname”7 and b) she’s actually kind of hurt by it. The only time I agree with her is when she’s like “Persecute me, I don’t like to waste good food.” Me either, KirstenDunst.

Kristan is basically a hot commodity with JACKSTONE, Buster Bluth, and Blake. She makes out with all of them with scallop mouth. I have nothing to say.

There’s a ton of filler, but Danielle sits down with Dean and asks him if Kristina gave him her rose, would he accept it? He finally says that he knows it’s not fair to play with both of their feelings and he’s going to go all-in with Danielle. I feel bad for Danielle because... Dean’s constantly talking about how Kristina’s too good for him and so like, what’s Danielle? Chopped liver? And this is what he wanted - Danielle once he was done with Kristina.

Of course, Kristina reacts maturely and perfectly and calmly.

Nah, she insults him and says he’s going after a girl, not a woman. KRISTINA. COME ON. SERIOUSLY? This dude has proven to you time and time again that you were his safety net. She keeps trying to blame Danielle and that she got “in his head”. Kristina sits down with Raven to shit talk, and Raven, while well-intentioned, picked the wrong moment to try to reason with Kristina and drop some logical truth bombs. She tries to reason with Kristina that no one “stole” Dean, Dean was wrong for playing two girls at once. She can be mad at Danielle, but she shouldn’t blame her for it. Kristina wanted at that moment to feel supported and didn’t get it from Raven, so she storms off because what does Raven know, they haven’t talked in a few days.

Y’all.

My Ex-Boyfriend Wells finally delivers the line to Kristina that she probably needed to hear all along, and something I have said several times to my friends in the past - why are you fighting for someone who isn’t fighting for you? Why bother? There is no reason to waste any time on someone who wouldn’t waste time on you. It’s hard to admit that and it’s hard to realize that you might be unwanted but that’s the way love goes.

We head into the Rose Ceremony.

Lacey gives her rose to Candy Lambz, and I can only imagine the abhorrent personality that would accompany their child.

Taylor gives her rose to Derek.

Amanda gives her rose to Robb(ie).

Raven gives her rose to Adam.

Dominique picks Diggy.

Jasmine picks... Jonathan?

Christin gives her rose to JACKSTONE.

Instead of giving out her rose, Kristina’s like, “Fuck this, fuck y’all, I’m out.” Her rose isn’t going to anyone.

Dean walks her out, and he’s like, “I hate myself, I hate doing this to you, please forgive me.”

That. IS NOT. AN APOLOGY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That’s telling someone you fucked up and then telling them how they should feel about it. That’s manipulation through and through. Stop making the conversation about your feelings. God.

Then he goes back and accepts Danielle’s rose.

Blake and Fred are going home. Bye Fred, please go find a more normal girl in your hometown.

Exeunt.

Enter.

The next day, everyone is still shook that Kristina left. Let’s be real - no one is really shook. Dean’s just relieved he can fuck Danielle without guilt now. We hear Dominique say more words in the opener than she has all season. She confirms the couples, and is worried someone might come in and distrupt everything.

Here comes Jaimi!!!!!!!

Jaimi is known for being bisexual and of course everyone’s like OMG SHE LIKES BOTH MEN AND WOMEN WHAT WILL HAPPEN IS SHE GOING TO TRY TO FUCK EVERYONE? No. The narrative that bisexual women are sluts who are just trying to bang everyone than can is dangerous. Bisexual women are not your sex toys and they have agency and aren’t... fucking predators. They’re not nymphomaniac homewreckers.8They just have interest in both genders. It’s not that hard.

I’m sorry, I’m still a little drunk from last night.

The Amanda Mitchell Standard of Dislikability on Jaimi: She’s far from the worst one in this cast, she’s more like soap in the eye.

Anyway, the girls are talking about how they think Jaimi’s interested in Cristen. Of course. I hate everyone on this show. Jaimi sets her sights on Diggy right quick, though. She gives her date card to him, and he seems... tentative about it, but he goes anyway.

We’re off on another $13 date where Diggy tries to figure out with Jaimi “is” in terms of nationality. You know what mixed people love? When people try to guess what they “are”. The’re fucking people. That’s what they are.

Meanwhile, back at the villa, Danielle and Dean are basically all over each other and she’s not concerned whatsoever.

Oh.

What’s that sound?

It’s the sound of terror approaching, aka The Twins.

W H Y.

Literally, their entire personality is “we’re hot twins, look at us!” I hate Emily and/or Haley. I hate that Willam, my favorite Drag Race alum, was on their “reality show”. I hate that this show continues to tote these girls around constantly because they literaly have no ohter qualifications other than being ABC’s bitches.

I literally didn’t think this show could be more full of awful people, but here we are. Is Jef Holm coming next?

Emily and/or Haley admit that they’re there to fuck shit up and I seriously hate them. Emily and/or Haley is interested in Dean and Derek, of course, and one of the twins refuses to take no for an answer. They have one shared date card between the two of them because they’re coming in late and because the producers don’t want to waste any time distinguishing between the two of them. They of course take Amanda Never-Shoulders aside to find out what’s going on9. Amanda Never-Shoulders is like, “Well, I’ve been so focused on making sure fabric never touches my shoulders that the only people available are JACKSTONE and Buster Bluth.” They have a really fucking forced conversation about Scallop Fingers and god, I’m tired of hearing about that.

The twins are not happy with these options, and they don’t even know what scallops are. The twins are not intimidated by Quristen and the fact that she’s the hottest commodity on the island. Amanda’s like, “nah, don’t even bother with Derek. Don’t bother with Dean. Sorrrrrrrrry.” Emily and/or Haley DGAF though, they’re going to ask who they want to. The producers waste a bunch of time distinguishing between the twins, and how to tell them apart - mainly, their vaginas and noses are different. I didn’t need to know that.

Emily and/or Haley continues to call JACKSTONE a serial killer, which is just... god. I hate them so much. Like, they’re the definition of “pretty on the outside, ugly on the inside”. They’re insidious. I cannot stand anyone who believes that playing dumb is a cute trait. Ignorance is not attractive. Not knowing shit does not make you a catch. Emily and/or Haley takes Dean aside and offers her date card and he flat out says no because he’s actually being a decent person for the first time.

Emily and/or Haley’s like, “well, I’m not going on a date with anyone but you, soooo.” He’s literally awful at letting her down. Emily and/or Haley goes to Danielle and is like, “So what would happen if Dean and I went on a date?” And Danielle’s like, “He’s an adult, he can make choices, if he’s interested, he should go.” She’s so wonderfully composed while also being like, “I will kill you.” Emily and/or Haley asks Dean again and he says no, he wouldn’t, he’s not interested.

Adam and Raven spent the entire episode in that hammock.

Emily and/or Haley react like mature adults about getting rejected and being forced to go on dates with JACKSTONE and Buster Bluth because the guys they’re actually interested in didn’t want to. No, they call JACKSTONE a serial killer and basically react with disgust about Jonathan, and call Danielle and Taylor (respectively) “ugly whores” because... they’re dating the guys the twins are interested in?

I fucking hate them. This is actually middle school behavior. No one has to yield your ridiculous demands.

There’s an actually sweet scene where Derek and Taylor admit that they’re falling in love with each other. I mostly commend Taylor for wearing fake eyelashes constantly.

Emily and/or Haley aren’t excited about their date, even calling their dates “douchebags”. JACKSTONE is feeling hesitant about going, and decides he’s not going on the date. He essentially ghosts them because he’d rather hang with Kristyn, which I think is hysterical. I would be insulted too if someone chose Kirsten over me. JACKSTONE is such an adult about it when he tells the girls that he’s not going on their date, and they’re the god damn worst.

They literally say to his face “I asked you out becuase there was no one else left and I felt bad for you - do you think I would want to be with someone who’s been with Scallop Fingers, serial killer?” All the other contestants are saying he’s an idiot for not going, but I agree with him. Don’t go on a date with someone who doesn’t want you. Emily and/or Haley fucking explodes and they’re like “FUCK ALL Y’ALL WE OUTTA HERE.” They literally throw scallops and Jonathan’s like, “Ew, no.”10

JACKSTONE gets my favorite line of the night when he’s like, “The twins are going to be fine - they’ll go home, watch Frozen, play with their fidget spinners, and they’ll be alright.”

The rest of the episode is the couples being all gross. They’re all like, “We’ve known each other ten days! This is going to last forever!!!!!!” Chris Harrison shows up and drops the bomb: This is our last day in Paradise.

Next Week: The “shocking finale”, relationships are collapsing, Fanty Sweetz, and Kristan may lose her virginity. Finally. Oh, reunion? Gross. WHY WOULD YOU FORCE CORINNE AND DEMARIO TOGETHER? JESUS. Oh, and Derek totally proposes to Taylor. Pffft. I'm so happy this season is over.

Random Assessments from the Desk of Amanda:

I hate how many times this show has made me write the word “tickle”.

How much do you think Ben Z. and Matt were paid to give out roses to keep Danielle and Jasmine (respectively) there? Ben Z probably was going to leave last week but they needed him to extend the Dean/Kristina/Danielle narrative, and Matt looked miserable when he came back to deliver his rose.

Dean needs a fucking therapist.

I literally cannot stand any of the people left.

I found out that Danielle owns an ice cream shop and I like her so much more now.

Can this officially be the end of The Twins’ 15 minutes? Please?

You know who Krysten reminds me of? Kenley on Project Runway season 5.

The second episode this week was one of the worst episodes in this show’s history. I know this is trash TV, but god.

At one point I literally said “I don’t care, Wells,” out loud and my boyfriend went “You have so broken up with Wells.”

My thoughts on Arie as The Bachelor: Good on him, I suppose? I think it’s a true gamble for ABC to pick a guy who hasn’t been involved with the franchise in five years, but Arie might be what is needed to bring the show back to what it was.

You know he’s immature when he’s using the same tactics my kindergarten teacher used to get me to admit that yes, it was me who ate the last Reese’s. I’m an asshole. ↩︎

Kind of hot in that beer goggly-sort of way. ↩︎

Once my mother bought these for the house and made us eat them because she wasn’t going to throw away a good box of food. I understand this, and I participated, but BLARG BARF BARF BARF. I’m still getting mini wheat crumbs out of my mouth and it’s been 15 years. My family takes cereal very seriously. (Cerealously?) Don’t get me started on the Who Ate All The Lucky Charms Marshmallows Debacle of 2000 or the Nick Ate All The Fruity Pebbles Fiasco of 1998. ↩︎

I laughed when Diggy was like, “Get Fred out of here, I was just getting used to being the only black guy here.” And laughed even harder when Jonathan looks him dead in the eye and goes “I don’t see color,” in the most marvelously faux-braggy way and I’m onto Jonathan now. Jonathan might be this season’s Evan. ↩︎

Dear Christane, you are on a tropical island. It is humid and hot and you will get sweaty. Are you really that confident in your makeup that you think you can get away with not wearing waterproof mascara? I feel you on the contact front, that sucks, but girl. Girl. Gurl. I cannot help you if you do not help yourself. ↩︎

I think it’s really interesting to see the path he’s taken since Joelle’s season. She’s kind of faded back quietly into her normal life with Jordan and he’s shilling sunglasses on Instagram. I don’t think she wanted that, and that’s why she didn’t pick him. Huh. ↩︎

Is it a nickname if it isn’t agreed upon by the person receiving the nickname? Is there are word for an unwanted and hurtful nickname? ↩︎

I actually give the show a lot of credit for not showing a bunch of shots of the guys being like “YEAAAAH SHE’S BISEXUAL IT WOULD BE SO HOT TO WATCH HER MAKE OUT WITH GIRLS” ↩︎

Literally none of the people there know anything about The Twins except that they’re hot. My Ex-Boyfriend Wells calls them a “national treasure” and again, I’m happier and happier that I dumped his ass and left him on the curb. ↩︎

This is the most shoehorned producer manipulation I’ve ever seen. They literally brought the Twins in just to stir shit up and then have them leave. ↩︎

[visenyatargaryn]

Once, she had been a wife, a mother… someone who had finally found their happily ever after. However, that all came crashing down once the bombs fell and her once beautiful life turned into ashes before her eyes. After being the only survivor from Vault 111, Evangeline made her way into what was now known as the Commonwealth with one mission in mind:

To find her son and get revenge on the bastard who murdered her husband.

With the ongoing search, Evangeline eventually found herself in one particular neighborhood where she would meet a peculiarly dressed ghoul who—unbeknownst to her, would become the one to drag her out of her ever-growing darkness and back into the light. However, will it be enough to find her son? To save him from the clutches of the Institute? Or will she forever lose the last thing that brought happiness to her?

CHAPTER THREE || Drown Your Sorrows || M || 2555 words || ao3

With the help of an old acquaintance, Evangeline and the synth detective—Nick Valentine, both uncover a clue that helped them gain a step closer in answering a long-awaited question. The location of the Institute. However, to achieve such an accomplishment, Evangeline would have to trek across an extremely dangerous area. A place where many don't survive, and if they do... they turn into ghouls—if they're lucky.

Later, Evangeline finds herself wanting to forget painful memories that had been resurfaced after delving into the memories of the infamous mercenary—Kellogg. To do just that, she ends up in the only place in Goodneighbor that has what Evangeline needs—The Third Rail.

Even with all the stimpaks, it had taken Evangeline a month to recover from her injuries. Her condition had been a lot worse than she realized, and band-aids don’t necessarily fix bullet holes—or broken bones for that matter. She had refused to take any chems to relieve the pain, afraid that it would make her addicted, but instead took it from the bottle—which, in a way, wasn’t much better.

While she was bedridden for the first week, Hancock had kept her company for the most part. He asked her an endless amount of questions about who she was and where she came from—innocent questions that she could easily answer. At some point, Evangeline felt that she could begin to trust the strange ghoul who had taken her in, so she told Hancock her secret—that she had been alive before the war. At first, he was hesitant to believe her, skeptical if she was bluffing or not, but soon realized that Evangeline was telling the truth. This led to even more questions that would need answered—things that she would have instead kept buried deep within. Still, she told him enough to pique his interest and nothing more.

Eventually, Hancock had finally sent word to her about Nick Valentine’s arrival and that she would find him waiting for her at the Memory Den. Since her leg had not fully recovered yet, she had to use a crutch to get places beyond a couple of steps. Evangeline found it quite troublesome, especially when it came to trekking down the Old State House's spiral staircase—which almost ended in disaster on multiple occasions. After meeting up with the synth detective, they talked to Doctor Amari about their situation and how they needed Kellogg's memories—to locate the Institute's location. At first, she refused while not wanting to take any part in desecrating the dead, but eventually changed her mind once Evangeline showed her the augmenter that she had found attached to Kellogg’s head—or brain to be more precise.

After Doctor Amari examined it, she then wired it into Nick’s interface with the implant in hand to find that it had been encrypted—a failsafe to protect the Institute’s secrets. After their original plan had dissolved, Amari had another idea. She told them that to decrypt the memories, it would require two minds instead of one. Without a second thought, Evangeline agreed—not once considering the potential dangers that may put her at risk. If it meant finding her son, though, then it was worth it—no matter the cost. Evangeline, along with Nick, hopped into the Memory Lounges to finally find the answer to a long-awaited question.

While she explored Kellogg’s memories, Evangeline realized that the merc was not so different from herself. They both had fathers that hardly loved them and later lost those that meant the world to them. She couldn’t help but wonder if she would have followed the same path had Shaun met the same fate as her husband. Would she, too, be a cold-blooded killer? Or would she have taken a different route entirely? In the end, it was too late to dwell on such thoughts as Kellogg was now dead, and she was the one still drawing breath.

Once they had found what they were looking for—that the Institute was using teleportation as a means to enter their facility, she headed upstairs to discuss everything with Nick. She needed to head into the Glowing Sea to find this rogue scientist—Virgil, who used to work for the Institute. It was a treacherous territory, as it was a place that produced enough radiation to either kill someone—or turn them into a ghoul. Nick offered to tag along, but Evangeline refused, knowing that his place was in Diamond City, where the people needed him more.

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

After a couple of weeks had passed since her walk through memory lane, Evangeline decided to finally explore Goodneighbor. Her curiosity about the little neighborhood getting the best of her. It seemed like nothing of importance from outside the walls, but once inside, one would never guess the two were the same. The interior of the place reminded Evangeline of a time where she still bore a hint of innocence—when she worked at the dance club in Philadelphia not long after graduation. Its neon lights, rundown atmosphere, and intoxicating smell brought back many memories. The smell itself was a mixture of sex, chems, and alcohol—an unpleasant combination, she thought.

One evening, Evangeline found herself at the Third Rail after being in a foul mood all day. It was a fine establishment, considering it was built into an old subway station. The music was beautiful, as was the woman singing it—who wore a red sequin dress and had short dark hair that came just above her shoulders. Making her way through the crowd, Evangeline could hear the patrons' whispers as she passed by them.

“That’s the woman the Mayor killed Finn for..” she heard one man say to someone.

“What makes her so special that he had to put down one of our best fighters?” another asked.

Most of the comments were about how Hancock had saved her life, while others were viler. Those ones, in particular, made her skin crawl. Finally making her way to the bar, Evangeline found an empty seat where she settled herself into.

“So what’ll it be?” a gruff voice asked.

Evangeline had not expected the bartender to be a Mr. Handy since she came by so few during her travels. It appeared to be the same make and model as Codsworth was, except that this one had a British accent and wasn’t as friendly.

“Whiskey,” she answered.

She watched as the robot poured a glass of the substance in front of her. It was one of her go-to drinks, especially when she was having a bad day. Picking up the glass, Evangeline swirled the amber liquid around before taking a sip. The beverage burned as it made its way down her throat, which then engulfed her body in a blanket of warmth.

Looking around, she noticed that most of the patrons there were ghouls—men and women alike. At first, it surprised her to see this many in one general area, but then later realized that Goodneighbor must be a sort of sanctuary for them. It was no surprise to her, given how most of the Commonwealth held a disliking towards them. In the crowd, Evangeline spotted an all-too-familiar face across the room. Hancock was sitting on a couch that had seen better years with two attractive women sitting relatively close—one of which was sitting on his lap. Enough hands were wandering to give one the idea of their intentions by the end of the night. The three of them seemed to be having a good time. She also noticed that their table was littered with empty containers of jet, mentats, and alcohol bottles.

A sinking feeling settled into the pit of her stomach as she watched them. They were all smiles and laughter, as was everyone else in the room, and here she was—sitting alone and miserable as ever. Evangeline had not felt more out of place than she did at this moment.

“You look like you could use some company,” a voice came from beside her.

Taking the empty barstool next to her was a man with handsome features. He had pale blue eyes and hair, the color of sand. Evangeline didn’t know who he was or what he wanted—which made her be even more on edge than usual.

“Go away,” Evangeline said plainly. She was in no mood for conversation and preferred to be left alone, even if he was easy on the eyes.

“C’mon now, darlin’. That’s no way to treat a friendly face,” he said, not taking heed to her words.

Admittedly, Evangeline knew that she was quick to judge. However, she had dealt with enough monsters in her lifespan to know the worst ones were always those who didn’t look the part. Sure enough, Evangeline felt him place his hand on her knee, which caused a sick feeling within her from the interaction.

She closed her eyes, wishing to be elsewhere.

Evangeline recalled being in a similar situation many years ago, about a year after being employed at the strip district's dance club. Evangeline had been sitting alone at the bar during one of her breaks, drowning herself in a bottle of whiskey, when a middle-aged man approached her. He wanted only one thing from her—as all men did, and it had terrified her. Evangeline told him no countless times, hoping it would make him go away. However, it only seemed to make him more persistent. Thankfully, before it could go any further, one of the girls of the establishment had put a stop to his unwanted advances.

“Take your fucking hand off of me,” Evangeline said slowly, with a bite of irritation in her tone.

The man beside her laughed. “Or what? Look around you, sweetheart. Ain’t nobody gonna save you. You’re just another stray Hancock has taken in, and nothing more.”

The words hit harder than Evangeline cared to admit. A stray—that was something she had always been—someone with no place to call home. Someone who had always been a poor, helpless, unfortunate soul that others looked upon with pity. Maybe he was right, she thought miserably. Maybe I am nothing more than just another stray looking for a handout. Evangeline shook her head as if to rid herself of such thoughts. Perhaps she was a stray, but she wasn’t nothing, no—she had never been nothing. Evangeline had made a name for herself before the war. She had been considered one of the greatest detectives that Boston had ever seen.

But what use was that now?

She took another drink from her glass, only to find out that it was empty. Evangeline swore under her breath. If she was to deal with this asshole, then she was going to need more whiskey. Signaling the barkeep for another drink, Evangeline looked to where she had last seen Hancock. Unfortunately, the spot he had been sitting was now empty with neither him nor his companions in sight. Evangeline didn’t necessarily need his help, but because she knew next to nobody here—it would have eased her mind a little if he were still present.

Evangeline took a swig of whiskey—emptying the glass entirely, and sat it down on the counter hard. “Listen, I don’t know who you are, nor do I fucking care. I just want to be left the fuck alone, okay?”

What patience she had was currently wearing thin as a throbbing pain began to form at her temple. Evangeline decided she should turn in for the night and sleep off the headache—and to rid herself of the unwanted company. Pushing the glass away, she stood and placed a handful of caps on the counter.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he asked, grabbing ahold of her wrist. “We ain’t done yet.”

She whipped around and struck him, causing him to stumble off the barstool and hit the ground hard with a clash. Evangeline didn’t bother to see if he was okay—not that she cared either way, as she wanted to make herself scarce. The entire room had fallen silent, and everyone’s attention now fell upon the commotion that had just occurred. Making her way through the crowd, Evangeline could feel her heart pounding in her chest—fearing that it may actually burst from its cavity. However, she dared not show an ounce of fear because Evangeline knew a place such as Goodneighbor—would be a death sentence. She was currently a lamb that found its way inside a lion’s den and was awaiting the inevitable slaughter.

Once outside, a chill went through her as she stepped out into the crisp night air. Tugging her jacket tighter, Evangeline started off toward The Hotel Rexford to rent out a room for the night. Evangeline had a feeling that Hancock was currently entertaining his companions from earlier, and she would rather not walk in on that. Besides, it wasn’t like Evangeline had to sleep there, and she knew her absence would not go noticed anyway—as it always has.

Upon entering the old hotel, a musty odor of over-aged furniture and stale tobacco filled the air. Surveying the place, Evangeline saw pieces of faded-yellow wallpaper peeling away from years of neglect. At the front desk was a short elderly woman with dark skin who was in deep conversation with a tall, dark-haired man who wore a high-quality suit. Evangeline knew she shouldn’t interrupt the two, but she was tired and needed somewhere to cope with tonight’s events. Her footsteps echoed over the wooden floor as she made her way to the desk, which caused them both to look up.

“Umm, excuse me?” Evangeline said meekly, giving them both her best smile. “I was hoping I could get a room here…”

The dark-haired man whispered something into the woman’s ear before taking his leave, who then gave Evangeline her full attention.

“Alright, that’ll be ten caps,” she said plainly.

“Thank you,” Evangeline said as she exchanged what was left of her caps for the keys to the room.

“It’s on the second floor, the last door on the right,” the receptionist called after her as she headed towards the stairs.

Once inside her room, she closed the door behind her and leaned against it. Evangeline realized she was shaking. Whether it was from the cold or what had happened tonight, she wasn’t sure—perhaps both? It also occurred to her that she had now made an enemy here and wasn’t sure what that meant—would Hancock throw her out because she harmed one of his own? What Evangeline did know, however, was that she now had to be extra careful because she knew damned well that he would want revenge for what she had done.

In truth, she hated it here, not just in Goodneighbor but in the Commonwealth's entirety. Evangeline wanted her old life back. She was so tired of always hurting. She wanted to laugh again, to be happy once more—to not be wary of everyone she met. To be able to walk the streets of Boston without having to constantly look over her shoulder out of fear.

Letting out a shaky breath, Evangeline sluggishly made her way over to the dresser where a bottle of vodka was sitting. Taking off her jacket, she grabbed the bottle and took a long drink from it. By the time Evangeline was finished, she felt a bit woozy—enough that she had to use the dresser for support. Placing the bottle back on the dresser, she stumbled over to the bed and sat on the mattress. It creaked under her weight as she laid down—curling herself in a ball. However, there were no blankets, but Evangeline was grateful that at least the room was quite warm. While she laid there, Evangeline tried not to think about the man from the bar or her current situation as she closed her eyes, falling into a dreamless sleep.

[rensfic]

Coming to Save You, Part VI

    “Are you serious?”

    “Yes, I’m serious. How d’you think I got into Avengers Tower in the first place? You ever seen anyone else scavenging that place?”

    “Where were you?”

    “One of Vault-Tec’s icebox vaults.”

    “Ohhhh, shit! They had one up here too?”

    “Yeah. We were supposed to be the superheroes and their families who got frozen for comparison to the Boston group.”

    “You the only one who came out? I heard the only one who came out of the Boston one is just tearing the Commonwealth up right now.”

    “Nah. I got everyone out okay. These raiders were letting people out of the pods one by one so they could kill them for fun.”

    “Huh. They’re in a cell somewhere, right?”

    “Yeah. A cell in the tower. Just like these guys are about to be, whether or not you help me.”

    The Duke stared at the two of them, who had suddenly become incredibly chatty. He’d never seen the red-suited mercenary like this before. He stood from his chair, letting out a low noise of disapproval.

    “You ladies just gonna stand there gossiping all day?”

    All Wade did was turn just long enough to shoot the Duke in the leg, then turned back to Spider-Man as though nothing had happened.

    “No, no I hear you. This is fantastic. I’ll help you round ‘em up. I can’t believe you’re back, Spidey baby! This is gonna be so cool.” And then he leaps back into action, feeling a warm bubble rise up in his chest. Hope is not a feeling he is used to, and yet here it is, swelling like a balloon that couldn’t actually fit in him. It’s a little suspicious, actually-- how long until it all collapses and he’s miserable again? But his other side tells him that he can at least enjoy this while it lasts, because hell, if two hundred years of misery would never turn to joy at some point, then it stands to reason that two hundred years of joy would never end, either. And he knows for a fact that joy ends eventually. And so must misery.

    Peter, on the other hand, feels a little cautious. He’s done the Wade dance before and was never fully convinced that he really wanted to go clean-- he always seemed to hesitate a bit, and if his role in the Duke’s court is any indication, he hasn’t tried very hard to give it up in the last two hundred years he thought Spider-Man was dead, either.

    “Go get them, then,” he says, standing there, wondering if Wade would actually turn on his employer for this. Then again, he had shot him in the leg. Oh, it is too much. He had to go back to his center. He closes his eyes. It is not Peter Parker’s job to fix Wade Wilson, he tells himself, trying to imagine his uncle’s voice speaking to him. If Wade Wilson wants to change, then Peter Parker can help him, but until he does and makes the effort for it, it is not Peter Parker’s job to do anything.

    When he opens his eyes, every member of the Duke’s gang is laid at his feet, tied in what must be at least fifty feet of rope that Wade got from God knows where. He wouldn’t put it past him to put emergency caches everywhere, so he supposes it makes sense.

    Wade himself stands just behind the mass of about fifteen people, watching Peter for his reaction. At first, it doesn’t look like there is any. He just stands there, looking at the pile. Then he turns, and it’s difficult to tell how he feels from his flattened voice, but Wade thinks he might sound a little surprised, and happy.

“Thanks. Let’s get them inside.”

It’s not a bad place to start. He knows what Peter is thinking and he’s right about it. Wade has let himself go too much. That ends today, he decides.

    When he steps into the tower again after all those years, Wade feels almost like he is being reborn. It’s funny to him that he never feels changed or reborn when he dies and comes back to life-- but just stepping into this ancient temple of Do-Gooderism has that effect on him. The dust is everywhere but he can still feel the half-beating heart of Nick Fury’s original vision for the building. Obviously, this is the perfect time to start cracking jokes.

    “Hey, can I try out the shield? I feel like it’s being wasted if it’s just sitting in here not being used.”

    “No, but if you feel that way, I’ll grab it and try it out for you.”

    “You know what? That’s even better. He’d have wanted you to have it.”

    “That… was an unusually sensitive thing for you to say, Wade.”

    “I have my moments.”

    Peter is quiet now as he steps through the high-ceilinged galleries toward the elevator that will take him down to the cells. The gaggle of rough-looking men behind him dodder along, looking around inside the tower they’d seen from the outside but had never managed to break into. There’s weaponry they could never even dream of sitting in stalls and on shelves and hangers. Colorful suits that look like they could stop a car. Cars that can probably both fly and dive into water judging by the fins.

Their captor pulls them along with unusual strength for just one guy who isn’t a super mutant toward a set of doors, chatting with their former employee as though they’ve known each other for years. Inside the doors they find a prison filled with more raiders-- not their gang, but ones that lurked around in the same area. Nobody dangerous enough for them to have gone after. The Spider had gotten to them first.

“Like one of those old pre-war comics,” Cutter says thoughtfully, before the guy yanks her and her boss and their crew into a cell all of their own. The man in the red and blue suit slams the door shut and puts his hand to a gel pad to lock them in.

“This is one of the pre-war comic books. I’m pre-war. I’m the Spider-Man they made those out of.”

Wade doesn’t think his dick can get any harder as Spider-Man walks away from them after saying that and closes the door behind him while they stare at him with faces full of shock. Once the door is closed, Peter slumps a little, sliding down the door onto the ground, looking like jelly. He takes his mask off and Wade’s heart jumps a little. He’s never taken it off in front of him before. He supposes the whole ‘they might kill my family and friends to get to me’ thing is a moot point now that all of that having-family-and-friends business is over for him. And if Wade’s a friend, he’s definitely not a friend that anyone can kill.

Peter scratches his head, which makes his hair floof up a little, and looks up at Wade. “Are there a lot of guys like that out here?”

“Just about everywhere you go. After the law fell apart people stopped giving a shit. With a few exceptions. Like you.”

“But not you.”

“No. Not me.”

“Why not? I thought you were trying to change when the bombs dropped.”

Wade fights the impulse to defend himself.

“I… forgot what it meant to try to be better. I used to know but I forgot. I was never really good at that stuff. I think my brain didn’t have the right part for it. Situations would come up where I’d ask, ‘what would Spider-Man do?’ And I’d have no idea. I know what you’d do if a guy was robbing a jewelry store or mugging an old lady, but what would you do if you had two guys who looked identical and both of them said the other was a synth and was trying to kill them? What about if you found out that an amazing life-giving program that could potentially help people by restoring crops and water had a side effect of turning its users into plant monsters? What about a paramilitary organization that opposed a huge empire of slavers who killed innocent people to prove their own warped viewpoint, but then turned around and took food from starving people under the pretense of saving them? What about an asshole who cuts off fingers from farmers who can’t pay him, but you know that he’s the only thing stopping an even worse asshole across the river in Jersey from taking over?”

His voice starts to get high and desperate, and the fidgeting of his hands says volumes about his vulnerability right now. “When you were around and the other Avengers were around, I could just copy you, or you know, copy what the hero is old movies would do. But I never had the thing where you can figure out what you should do when you have a totally new situation in front of you. So, that’s why I was happy to see you-- or, part of the reason, anyway. So you can tell me what to do again.” And his voice becomes hopeful again.

Peter stares at him for a few moments, trying to wrap his head around the idea that someone else depends on outside input for moral decisions. “Oh… kay… that’s… kind of a big burden, right? I mean, I can’t just tell you what to do.”

“No, you absolutely can. You should start with the guy across the river, though. Somebody has to do something about him.”

“Well, capture him? And bring him here.”

“What if there’s another guy after that? And the guy across the river is protecting people from that one?”

“...We’ll deal with him if and when he pops up. One thing at a time. Wow, this really is a mess. Nobody’s set up any defenses at all?”

“For who?”

“The farmers! The farmers who need protection from the raiders.”

“First we’d need to pick a spot to defend and put them there. That’ll probably involve killing some super mutants or ghouls or something.”

“Isn’t that literally your favorite thing to do?”

“Oh, hey, it is! Okay, Spidey baby, brave leader, where should we set up this camp?”

“Somewhere nearby so I can be there if they’re attacked. Central Park! It’d be perfect. There’s water there and plenty of land to grow food on. We could fortify it and probably have a pretty big community there.”

“Huh. Yeah, alright. I’ve been living in the Tavern on the Green for years now, so I’d be on location too.”

“Even better. The way those guys were talking, nobody would attack a settlement you were guarding.”

“Yeah, they probably wouldn’t. I haven’t had any problems so far. I’d need help setting up generators and water filtration and stuff.”

“Okay. You just… go to Central Park, and get rid of anything violent that would hurt people. Start building fences and walls. That kind of stuff. I’ll start going through the materials here. There’s probably some helpful things. Could probably even build some turrets or something.”

“That’s unusually violent for you, Spider-Man.”

“BB pellets won’t hurt them much, and it’d distract them a bit while I dealt with them.”

“Ohhh. Of course. So… you’d be moving in over there?”

“Yeah. Looks like it. It’ll be a lot easier to protect everyone in one location, I’ll tell you that much. Especially without police radio to listen to for leads.”

“But if they manage to crack the defenses there, they’ll have everybody in the area under their control and defenseless.”

“Oh. Right. So… an escape tunnel?”

“Sure, if you can be sure you can safeguard it against intrusion. They work both ways.”

“An escape tunnel into Avengers Tower, with a sealing mechanism that only opens from the inside or by one of us from the outside.”

“Yeah, that should work… that way if one of us gets knocked out of commission they can still get out when the danger’s gone. Sounds like we have some work to do.”

    “Yeah. I’ll get started on the drafting. You go out and visit some of the nearby settlements, see if any of them are interested in helping us start a community. The best defended one on the east coast.”

    “We’ll have to beat Diamond City for that. They set up in Fenway Park, something like a hundred and fifty years ago. Those big stadium walls do a lot to keep dangerous stuff out.”

    “That’s genius. Has anyone done the same thing with Yankee Stadium?”

    “Yeah, a big gang of raiders.”

    “We’ll have to look at digging them out and replacing them later. But for now, one thing at a time. I need you to secure the park and find farmers and supplies to help us start. Seeds, metal, concrete, anything you can find so I can build what we need.”

    Wade gives him a salute, and then pauses.

    “So… you finally took off your mask. What gives?”

    “Nobody here knows who I am anymore. The villains here target everyone on sight… it’s hard to imagine a raider getting pissed at me personally and going after anyone I’m close to. So there’s no point.”

    “I mean, I don’t recognize you either.”

    Peter laughs. “I was a photographer for the Daily Bugle. That’s why they always had those amazing shots of me.”

    Now Wade is laughing too. “No way! You must’ve had the highest blood pressure in the city, dealing with that editor.

“I might’ve! It was worth the cash though. Nobody could do what I did.”

“That’s still true.”

“Aww, thanks. Uh. My name’s Peter, by the way. Peter Parker.”

“Petey pie!”

“Oh, my God.”

“Petey pie, Petey pie, Petey pie…” Wade sings and dances his way out of the tower while Peter rolls his eyes and looks for his drafting supplies.

[readerbookclub]

Book Suggestions

Here are this round’s suggestions:

1. Shadow and Bone:

Surrounded by enemies, the once-great nation of Ravka has been torn in two by the Shadow Fold, a swath of near impenetrable darkness crawling with monsters who feast on human flesh. Now its fate may rest on the shoulders of one lonely refugee.

Alina Starkov has never been good at anything. But when her regiment is attacked on the Fold and her best friend is brutally injured, Alina reveals a dormant power that saves his life―a power that could be the key to setting her war-ravaged country free. Wrenched from everything she knows, Alina is whisked away to the royal court to be trained as a member of the Grisha, the magical elite led by the mysterious Darkling.

Yet nothing in this lavish world is what it seems. With darkness looming and an entire kingdom depending on her untamed power, Alina will have to confront the secrets of the Grisha…and the secrets of her heart.

2. We Are Okay

You go through life thinking there’s so much you need. . . . Until you leave with only your phone, your wallet, and a picture of your mother. Marin hasn’t spoken to anyone from her old life since the day she left everything behind. No one knows the truth about those final weeks. Not even her best friend Mabel. But even thousands of miles away from the California coast, at college in New York, Marin still feels the pull of the life and tragedy she’s tried to outrun. Now, months later, alone in an emptied dorm for winter break, Marin waits. Mabel is coming to visit and Marin will be forced to face everything that’s been left unsaid and finally confront the loneliness that has made a home in her heart.

3. Strange The Dreamer

The dream chooses the dreamer, not the other way around--and Lazlo Strange, war orphan and junior librarian, has always feared that his dream chose poorly. Since he was five years old he's been obsessed with the mythic lost city of Weep, but it would take someone bolder than he to cross half the world in search of it. Then a stunning opportunity presents itself, in the person of a hero called the Godslayer and a band of legendary warriors, and he has to seize his chance to lose his dream forever.What happened in Weep two hundred years ago to cut it off from the rest of the world? What exactly did the Godslayer slay that went by the name of god? And what is the mysterious problem he now seeks help in solving? The answers await in Weep, but so do more mysteries--including the blue-skinned goddess who appears in Lazlo's dreams. How did he dream her before he knew she existed? and if all the gods are dead, why does she seem so real?

4. Shadows Cast By Stars

Two hundred years from now, blood has become the most valuable commodity on the planet—especially the blood of aboriginal peoples, for it contains antibodies that protect them from the Plague ravaging the rest of the world. Sixteen-year-old Cassandra Mercredi might be immune to the Plague, but that doesn’t mean she’s safe—government forces are searching for those of aboriginal heritage to harvest their blood. When a search threatens Cassandra and her family, they flee to the Island: a mysterious and idyllic territory protected by the Band, a group of guerilla warriors—and by an enigmatic energy barrier that keeps outsiders out and the spirit world in. And though the village healer has taken her under her wing, and the tribal leader’s son into his heart, the creatures of the spirit world are angry, and they have chosen Cassandra to be their voice and instrument...

5. The Magicians

Quentin Coldwater is brilliant but miserable. A high school math genius, he’s secretly fascinated with a series of children’s fantasy novels set in a magical land called Fillory, and real life is disappointing by comparison. When Quentin is unexpectedly admitted to an elite, secret college of magic, it looks like his wildest dreams have come true. But his newfound powers lead him down a rabbit hole of hedonism and disillusionment, and ultimately to the dark secret behind the story of Fillory. The land of his childhood fantasies turns out to be much darker and more dangerous than he ever could have imagined. . . .

6. Unwind:

In America after the Second Civil War, the Pro-Choice and Pro-Life armies came to an agreement: The Bill of Life states that human life may not be touched from the moment of conception until a child reaches the age of thirteen. Between the ages of thirteen and eighteen, however, a parent may choose to retroactively get rid of a child through a process called "unwinding." Unwinding ensures that the child's life doesn’t “technically” end by transplanting all the organs in the child's body to various recipients. Now a common and accepted practice in society, troublesome or unwanted teens are able to easily be unwound.

7. The Night Circus:

The circus arrives without warning. No announcements precede it. It is simply there, when yesterday it was not. Within the black-and-white striped canvas tents is an utterly unique experience full of breathtaking amazements. It is called Le Cirque des Rêves, and it is only open at night. But behind the scenes, a fierce competition is underway: a duel between two young magicians, Celia and Marco, who have been trained since childhood expressly for this purpose by their mercurial instructors. Unbeknownst to them both, this is a game in which only one can be left standing. Despite the high stakes, Celia and Marco soon tumble headfirst into love, setting off a domino effect of dangerous consequences, and leaving the lives of everyone, from the performers to the patrons, hanging in the balance.

8. Highly Illogical Behavior:

Sixteen-year-old Solomon is agoraphobic. He hasn’t left the house in three years, which is fine by him. Ambitious Lisa desperately wants to get into the second-best psychology program for college (she’s being realistic). But how can she prove she deserves a spot there? Solomon is the answer. Determined to “fix” Sol, Lisa thrusts herself into his life, sitting through Star Trek marathons with him and introducing him to her charming boyfriend Clark. Soon, all three teens are far closer than they thought they’d be, and when their walls fall down, their friendships threaten to collapse, as well.

9. Hunted

Beauty knows the Beast’s forest in her bones–and in her blood. Though Yeva grew up with the city’s highest aristocrats, far from her father’s old lodge, she knows that the forest holds secrets and that her father is the only hunter who’s ever come close to discovering them. So when her father loses his fortune and moves Yeva and her sisters back to the outskirts of town, Yeva is secretly relieved. Out in the wilderness, there’s no pressure to make idle chatter with vapid baronessas…or to submit to marrying a wealthy gentleman. But Yeva’s father’s misfortune may have cost him his mind, and when he goes missing in the woods, Yeva sets her sights on one prey: the creature he’d been obsessively tracking just before his disappearance. Deaf to her sisters’ protests, Yeva hunts this strange Beast back into his own territory–a cursed valley, a ruined castle, and a world of creatures that Yeva’s only heard about in fairy tales. A world that can bring her ruin or salvation. Who will survive: the Beauty, or the Beast?

10. Passenger:

In one devastating night, violin prodigy Etta Spencer loses everything she knows and loves. Thrust into an unfamiliar world by a stranger with a dangerous agenda, Etta is certain of only one thing: she has traveled not just miles, but years from home. And she’s inherited a legacy she knows nothing about from a family whose existence she’s never heard of. Until now. Nicholas Carter is content with his life at sea, free from the Ironwoods-a powerful family in the Colonies-and the servitude he’s known at their hands. But with the arrival of an unusual passenger on his ship comes the insistent pull of the past that he can’t escape and the family that won’t let him go so easily. Now the Ironwoods are searching for a stolen object of untold value, one they believe only Etta, his passenger, can find. In order to protect her, Nick must ensure she brings it back to them-whether she wants to or not. Together, Etta and Nicholas embark on a perilous journey across centuries and continents, piecing together clues left behind by the traveler who will do anything to keep the object out of the Ironwoods’ grasp. But as they get closer to the truth of their search, and the deadly game the Ironwoods are playing, treacherous forces threaten to separate Etta not only from Nicholas but from her path home forever.

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