#and turned into its own little thing I guess

[occamstfs]

Tailgating

Uptight Benji tries to force his way though rowdy tailgaters to get to work. How was he supposed to know the stupid game was such a big deal? Seems he’ll be learning in short order after having a beer or two to take the edge off.

Spin on one of my favorite older stories on here, also named Tailgating! Slightly shorter fratification, burps and personality changing sunglasses ahead! Also only a few days left to vote for the Talismen finale, there's a clear favorite but anything can happen! Enjoy this little ode to sweaty bodies and hoppy breath! -Occam

The roads around the campus library are closed for the big game, but Benjamin was still determined to host his Office hours. He knew there was some kind of football thing today but had no idea it was apparently the biggest of the year. Some bowl game or massive rivalry or something, He didn’t care- doesn’t and will never care, in fact . He’s done good work avoiding the jeering crowds of drunkards so far as he sneaks across campus. Nearing the home stretch however it’s clear there is no way around. He must somehow power through the horde.

Benji makes it a few good yards into the festivities unassailed, dodging elbows and spilled drinks like the best of them. Unfortunately the prudish academic takes time to grimace and sneer when one of the behemoths burps loud enough to make him flinch, pausing just long enough to become irrevocably caught in the chaos. 

Like an animal held by the scruff of its neck, Benjamin finds himself in the clutches of Bruiser, president of the school’s new Beta Delta Alpha chapter. “Yooo lil bro! What’s up? Looks like you’re not havin’ a good time?” Stuck in a meaty hand and between instincts of snide remarks and swift flight he opts for smarmy sarcasm, “Nono you bovine brute I’m having the time of my life on this commute.” Bruiser narrows his eyes, “hmmmm I dunno dude.”

Feeling the man’s sweaty, surely beer-covered palm soaking through his shirt he swats at it, “Ugh, the idea of work foreign to you hedonistic morons?” Bruiser’s lip twitches into a smile as he reaches to grab something with his free hand, “ohhh you’ve got work lil bro?” The hairs on the back of Benji’s neck stand on end as he feels something shift in the man’s expression and he tries to bolt away, Too Late.

Bruiser forces a massive mirrored visor onto Benji’s eyes and the prude freezes. His vision is shaded a dark burnt orange and his eyes scramble, the only remaining part he seems able to move himself. Bruiser releases his shoulder and pats his back, “Welcome to the party bro hahah!” Benji cannot see the man’s own eyes glimmering through his new visor, though as he leans in close all his senses are overwhelmed by how powerful the scent of beer is on his breath, “Here lil bro, let me help you chill out.” Despite disgust, despite fear, despite everything in him begging him to flee, the scent of beer on Bruiser’s thick breath fills him with an overwhelming thirst.

Benjamin doesn’t know how a tall boy ends up in his hand, but he can guess what is soon to happen when Bruiser turns to shout, “Yo bros! Lil Benj over here is gonna kill a tall boy in one gulp!” Through his tinted visor he sees the can raise to his lips, no one can see his eyes widen from fear as beer begins to pour into his mouth. Try as he might to slow the flow, to close his mouth, to not swallow he is totally unable to move. And then, his eyes lose focus for half as second, why would he want to stop drinking it?Did he like beer? As it continues to flow into his mouth he can’t imagine not liking it? ‘S pretty good. Despite his body willing itself through the can, in its paltry state he could never manage to drink this quickly. Rivulets of the swill spill out of his cheeks and down his jaw, staining the recently shaved upper lip and cheeks darker, a mustache never given the chance to thrive begins to sprout. Benji’s throat burns from the effort of racing to down the drink, through with each gasping swallow it becomes easier, more adept at performative drinking competitions, tight to the can his mouth widens into something cruder, made to be loud. And then he’s done

Tossing the can to the ground without a care Benjamin stands, swaying back slightly despite having only had the one drink. His hand pats his stomach and it jiggles slightly, the tall boy must be expanding in his stomach or something. He grimaces as it grumbles, his neck reflexively tenses as he feels a burp coming up. He can’t, no surely not- the glasses squeeze tighter on his head and he laughs once, wouldn’t it be funny though?

Bruiser watches with as smile as he sees the meek man’s torso begin to fill out as he fights the urge to burp. Beneath the visor his eyes surely go glassy as his midriff is exposed and soon enough covered by a treasure trail climbing up towards his chest. Buttons begin to pop from the beer-stained collar of his shirt as something a little less defined than pecs begin to hang on his chest. Impatient with the nerd’s hesitation, Bruiser steps in and pats the man on the back. 

With the slightest encouragement from his bro, er- from this frat bro, Benji lets loose. *BRGURRRP* It lasts a few seconds, it’s not alone *BUURRP* Immediately Benji’s mind returns and he again tries to take control of piloting the machine that is his body. His arms feel heavier as they hang limp from his shoulders, his neck falls back as from another back pat and the shouting of Bruiser he burps again, *BURRP* shorter, deeper. He feels his arms straining his sleeves and a gut that shouldn’t be there pushing against the buttons of his shirt.

Stains begin to make themselves clear in his pits as he grows sweaty from the effort of, drinking? Growing? Struggling to keep his mind? His declining mind accelerates as the smell of his own musk begins to assail his nose. He’s unable to fight the urge to laugh as a hand unfamiliar, clumsy and thick scratches into his pits. He has the clear memory of putting deodorant on his almost hairless pits this morning before leaving the house for, uh- surely not to come here right? 

No no, he had something to do. It’s Saturday. Usually on Saturdays he has work? “YO BENJ!” Bruiser shouts into his ear, “YOU WANT ANOTHER DRINK?” Benji nods wordlessly as whatever shred of himself is left in his mind tries to remember. Yeah he had work, it’s why he’s wearing this button up- He looks down to see a stained shirt, skin clearly peaking through a litany of tears through. He grumbles as his head hurts, he scratches at his itchy chest as it begins to pattern with hair. Suddenly his nose twitches as he smells something. 

Grimacing at the stink he moves to smell his own pits and laughs once more, unaware he’s caught himself in some perverse feedback loop. Man though, he would’ve sworn he sprayed some axe before heading out? He scratches his chin with his pit-sweat covered fingers as he remembers sniffing them at the house and flinching before spraying the forests with at least a few coats. Yeah he’d never leave for, uhh- looking down he sees the shirt has now completely shredded off, leaving him topless as his beer gut continues to fill out and shift 

His once waifish treasure trail spreads to cover his thickening waist as he grows a beer belly that makes it clear this is not his first rodeo. Looking down at his meatier torso his mouth falls open as his struggling mind grinds slower, he’s not- this isn’t him. His body rocks as Bruiser returns and throws an arm around him, “Sorry it took so long BJ- You know how it be huhuh! Had to show a couple bitches who was boss!” 

Benj reflexively raises a fist to bump his bro, discarding a bottle he can’t remember downing to do so, nor does he realize that he seems to be in control of his body once more. Scratching at his crotch he goes to grab the drink Bruiser brought him and he remembers he can always ask his main bro what’s up, “Yo uhhhh, Bruise? Did I have somethin’ tah do today?” Bruiser smirks as he hears the man’s plodding, clearly thoughtless voice, “Fuckin’ yeah bro! You had to show those fuckers who’s boss!”

BJ stares mouth ajar for a few seconds as his existence recontextualizes itself. Sure he’s a student but C’s get degrees huhuh, Bruise’ll have a job for him at his dad’s firm when he graduates anyway. The new tank’s mouth grows into a wide smirk as he remembers that the only thing college is about is having a blast. “YEAH DUDE!” All eyes turn as the man’s new voice tears through the tailgate party, “LET’S SHOW THOSE BITCHES WHAT A REAL FOOTBALL TEAM LOOKS LIKE!” Foam sloshes out of his cup as he raises it in the air, before pouring it on himself and shouting some more.

His resounding cheers are echoed by the crowd of people around him, many almost spitting images of himself and Bruiser. Burly beer soaked men guffawing and toned men only concerned with vanity muscles, all drowning themselves in jungle juice until the game starts. Most frats on campus have sororities over for the shindigs but not the ΒΔΑ guys, no their quarry is all those fuckers who think they’re too good to have a good time. BJ smirks as any prior desires are completely paved over by the idea of molding some pansy little fucker into a real man, just like him, just like his pres.

Indeed he and Bruiser go about the crowd like predators, hungrily seeking out people who were harangued to come to the game. Offering wallflowers drinks and watching as their hair bleaches platinum, pecs bursting through newly bought faux jersey’s. Giving frat-thirsty twinks a chance to become their quarry sweat stained sunglasses and delighting as they fill crop tops to bursting, new furry bellies and hairy below the belt bulges making their intentions clear for all.

 In no time at all Bruiser has a platoon of brother’s behind him, all suddenly excited for the game and otherwise finding the newly stubbled mouths of their fellow brothers. The president’s eyes scan the rowdy crowd around him with glee, excited to sample his new brothers after the game, but none is he more excited to ravish than his new number two, BJ.

When kick off nears he bumps his new brother on the shoulder, the same he clutched when the fucker thought his prissy little job was important. “Yo bro, game’s about to start- Let’s head on in-” BJ’s glassy eyes wrinkle with a smile as he begins to stumble alongside his bro, excited to watch his team stomp. Excited to just watch another game. “LET’S FUCKIN’ GO BRO!” His drunken voice dull and louder than he could dream to near before meeting Bruiser

Even as Brusier clutches his ass his mind stays focused on the upcoming game, though his cock bulges in his shorts either way. His own hand clutches at his bro’s defined waist. God it’s been like a decade since the last rivalry game, and to watch it right by his Bruiser. Man, BJ wouldn't miss this for the world. 

[acowardinmordor]

I think when Steve gets Vecna'd, Eddie adds together what he knows about the situation and comes to a logical conclusion. To him at least. He knows that Steve came here asking for heavy drugs and high quantities. He knows that Steve was sounding a hell of a lot like 'sleep' meant something worse.

He knows that Steve is X, and that means all of the horrible things that Eddie knows X thinks about himself, the guy in front of him thinks that too. He knows that Steve, ever since the letters stopped, has been upsetting the freshmen by being distant and cold.

The only assumption he can come up with is that Steve already took something, and it's hit. Or it's causing a reaction. Or its a bad trip.

He has no hesitation about touching him, immediately checks his breathing and his heart rate. It sorta, kinda seems like an overdose, a little bit could be an allergic reaction, but Steve is trembling like he's scared, and his body is stiff. Those explanations don't make perfect sense, so he watches for something that would mean it IS medical, and heads towards his better guess.

Bad Trip.

Steve is high, and is in a bad brain place, and that means he needs to be grounded. Music helps, right? When he was on that bad trip with Rick after his first senior year, Rick put on one of Eddie's tapes, and talked to him. Calm shit. Encouraging shit.

Eddie fully ignores the flickering lights - electrical gets weird in the trailer sometimes - and grabs the mixtape he made for X, and shoves it into his sorta fucky boombox. It's a mix of X's favorite songs, and the ones he mentioned in his own letters. He doesn't know if Steve ever listened to them, but that tape is the only thought he has.

Gets it playing, and grabs hold of Steve's arms. He knows that Steve stopped talking to him. Since Steve knew who he was, and Eddie didn't know who X was, it means Steve probably doesn't care if Eddie wants him to be okay.

Eddie talks about how everyone else feels.

He tells him about how protective Dustin is. How angry Lucas gets anytime anyone says a bad word about Steve. How Eddie has never seen Robin smile so much. How no one judges him for needing to repeat a year. Everyone knows about how hurt he got, and everyone gets it. No one thinks worse of him for it.

He knows his voice isn't exactly calm and soothing, but the longer this insane eye-flutter, non responsive thing goes, the more terrified Eddie is.

"Steve, please, please, it's okay. Just find your way back. try to breathe, try to feel your body, and you'll be okay. I know - I know I've been an asshole to you. I know, okay. But the boys, Robin, shit, fuck, Steve, I need to apologize for shit, so you gotta slow down your breathing. Whatever you're seeing, it isn't real. I promise it's not real, okay? Come back to the real world and I can get you feeling better, I promise. Steve? Steve?"

He doesn't notice at first that Steve is starting to float. He's too focused on his face, the way his eyes are still rolled back. He lets go before he can notice his own hands rising with him. Shits too real, this isn't just a bad trip, he needs help, he needs an ambulance, a cop, anyone that can actually help Steve.

He has the phone in hand, and is about to dial when he turns back, needing to keep looking at him while he begs someone to come fast. He sees Steve in the air.

One step closer, then another. He keeps trying, another whispered sentence or three. But the lights are going crazy, and the music is staticky, the dialtone is screaming, and suddenly Steve is flattened to the ceiling, arms pulling slowly to the sides.

Eddie runs.

Leaves the door swung open as he throws himself into his van. His hands are shaking and he's hyperventilating too hard to notice Max Mayfield sprinting across the road, up the stairs and into the trailer. He's pulling away, when Max screams as Steve falls.

He hears the scream, he hears and feels the heavy thump of a weight hitting the ground. He knows what that sound must mean.

Eddie runs.

Behind him with the tape still playing, Max holds onto a terrified Steve, who has trickles of blood on his cheeks, and bruises blooming on his arms.

Steve, alive, cursed, who immediately asks if Eddie is safe.

[olvxva]

unspoken flames pt. II | joost klein x f!reader

part I

✦ wc: 3.2 k

✦ warnings: rpf!, angst, crying, nudity but nothing really descriptive, two fools finally sorting their shit out

✦ an: i had to use my inspiration and free time, so i guess it went pretty quickly lmao, enjoy <3

that night, when Joost closed the door to your apartment behind him, something inside you broke. maybe it was your heart, or maybe it was just your inner self that was torn in half after the blonde took a part of you with him, a part you couldn’t get back. that night, you didn’t sleep a wink. not the next night, nor the one after that.

the quiet sobs were the only thing that could be heard from your lips, as if all the pain you had been holding in finally found its release. the tears, which seemed endless, were only an attempt at relief that never came. you felt empty, alone, and yet, as if you had no right to feel this way, as if you were deceiving yourself.

Joost didn’t say a word. days passed and you sat in your silence, which was like an endless abyss. somewhere deep in your soul, you held a quiet hope that maybe he had changed his mind, that he regretted it. naively, you waited for even a single message, a single word. just one sign that you weren’t alone in this. but nothing came. the phone stayed silent and Joost seemed to have vanished.

it was pure torture. every corner of your apartment reminded you of your shared moments, as if every object, every detail, was a witness to your presence. no matter where you looked, in your mind’s eye, you only saw him - his smile, his gaze, his touch. in every silence, his laugh echoed, in every corner of the apartment, you still felt the warmth of his presence.

your thoughts kept returning to him, even though you tried to push them away. you kept searching for him, though you knew he wasn’t around anymore. every attempt to forget became harder, and with each moment you gazed at the empty spot where he used to be, your heart broke even more.

sitting curled up on the windowsill in the living room, you watched the crowded street outside. the world beyond the glass seemed to live to its own rhythm, completely oblivious to the storm inside you. people walked past each other, talking, laughing, but you felt completely disconnected from all of it.

five weeks had passed since that fateful night. five weeks with no contact. it hurt a little less now, but it still hurt too much. you still felt like you were standing still, stuck in a deadlock where each day was just a reflection of the one before.

the world moved forward as if nothing had happened, while you remained in place, trying to accept that nothing would ever be the same. from the flood of thoughts that once again began to gather above you like dark clouds, you were pulled by the sound of an incoming notification. before you could react, your heart skipped a beat. you reached for your phone nearby and tapped the notification that had popped up. as you saw the message, your heart instantly sank in your chest.

Joost: we need to talk.

one short sentence that in that moment turned your world upside down. you immediately felt a wave of emotions crash over you - fear, anger, sadness, and maybe even hope, though you weren't sure if you should trust it.

you flipped your phone in your hands, feeling the weight of the decision that now stood before you. your mind was swirling with conflicting thoughts. you knew you couldn’t ignore him. after everything, after he’d kept you in uncertainty for so long, you couldn’t just leave this without an explanation.

why now? why so suddenly? those were the questions you couldn’t come up with a reasonable answer to. so much had changed in the weeks that had passed, and though you tried to keep your emotions in check, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something inside you had died. maybe it was the end, maybe not, but what had happened would stay with you forever.

could "what was meant to be" still exist after all of this? you took a deep breath, closing your eyes, trying to gather your thoughts. you felt the unease in your body growing, as if waiting for something that couldn’t be stopped anymore.

me: where and when?

sending the message took you barely a second, but it felt like time slowed down in your head. the phone stayed in your hand, and you stared at the screen, waiting for a reply. each second dragged on endlessly, as if the world was deliberately holding its breath, playing with your patience. after a moment, the screen lit up with a notification, and you quickly read the message.

Joost: my place in an hour, i’ll be waiting.

the words were simple, almost devoid of emotion. you stared at the text, analyzing it as if your life depended on it. i'll be waiting. those words echoed in your mind.

without further hesitation, you stood up and decided to prepare. your movements were automatic, almost mechanical, as if your body had taken control of your mind. you opened the closet and began sifting through your clothes, trying to pick something appropriate - something that wouldn’t betray the chaos inside you but also wouldn’t look too indifferent. every little detail, every decision seemed bigger than it really was.

you were afraid of this meeting. part of you - the hurt and disappointed part - would have preferred Joost to remain a memory, distant and unreal. but there was also the other part, the more stubborn and emotional one, still yearning for his voice, for the way he looked at you, as if he saw something in you that you couldn’t see yourself. it was that part of you that pushed you forward, forcing you to grab a jacket from the closet and reach for the keys.

the walk to his apartment passed unusually quickly, almost too quickly, as if time was mocking you, shortening every second you could have used to gather your thoughts. the cold evening air wrapping around you didn’t help much either. your hands were damp with nerves, and your heart was pounding so loudly that you feared someone on the street might hear it.

you tried to organize your thoughts, the words you wanted to say, but instead, your mind kept circling around what could have happened.

before you knew it, you were already standing in front of his door. you stared at the gleaming number 12 hanging on the door, one you’d seen so many times before. you felt your hands tremble slightly, and your chest rose unevenly with every difficult breath. you slowly raised your hand, ready to knock. a thousand thoughts raced through your mind - what if he wasn’t alone? what if this meeting ended in even more pain?

finally, your knuckles met the wood, making a soft, almost shy sound. for a moment, the silence seemed to stretch on endlessly before you heard footsteps approaching from inside. your heart rose to your throat.

the door opened hesitantly. and then you saw him. he stood there, dressed in simple gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. his messy hair seemed to stick up in every direction. his face looked tired, and his eyes held a shadow you hadn’t seen before. he looked the same, yet somehow, he seemed like a completely different person standing before you.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. you stared at each other, and the air between you was so thick, you almost felt like you could touch it. you didn’t know what to say. every word you’d prepared in your mind had suddenly evaporated.

“hey” he said finally, his voice quiet, barely audible.

“hi” you replied just as softly, feeling your mind suddenly abandon you.

his gaze drifted across your face, as if trying to read what was going on in your head. for a moment, it seemed like he wanted to say something, but for some reason, he remained silent, stepping back to give you room to enter.

“will you come in?” he asked, finally making a step back to let you inside.

without a word, you timidly stepped through the threshold, your movements slow and cautious, as if walking on thin ice. under the watchful gaze of the blonde, you took off your shoes, trying to control the trembling of your hands that started to betray you. you hung your coat on the hook, making an effort to avoid his gaze, which seemed to pierce right through you.

the atmosphere between you was strange, uncertain. the silence that settled was almost palpable and you had the feeling that every word or movement of yours could break it in the worst possible way.

when Joost moved toward the kitchen, you turned to him and almost instinctively followed. entering the room, you noticed how the blonde leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. he looked thoughtful, yet tense, as if he didn't know what to do next.

"anything to drink?" he suddenly asked, his voice cutting through the silence, but it sounded surprisingly calm, even though you could still see the shadow of uncertainty in his eyes.

"no, thank you, i'm not in the mood" you replied politely, trying to sound neutral "i don't want to impose."

Joost looked at you, and in his eyes, you could see a mix of disappointment. he fell silent for a moment, as if weighing every word he might say. his hands slowly dropped to the counter, and his breath became deeper, as if preparing himself for something important.

"y/n, you know you don't have to feel like that… you don't have to be afraid of imposing" he finally answered, his voice softer than before.

"Joost, you know, sometimes what you say is easier than what i feel" you replied, your voice trembling in your mouth. you looked him in the eyes, but you couldn’t hold his gaze for more than a moment.

the man slowly began to approach you, until your chests were separated by only millimeters. his hand gently caressed your cheek.

you could feel your whole body tense in that moment, as if Joost's approaching touch had the power to break everything. his presence had something that still drew you in, something that made it impossible for you to pull away.

"y/n…" his voice was barely audible, as if he was trying to find the right words "i… i didn't know what to do. i'm sorry. i'm sorry for everything i've done and for what i haven't done. for hurting you. for leaving you when you needed me the most. i know it's not enough, i know it can't fix what happened, but…"

he paused for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. in your mind, there was emptiness, as if each word he spoke was some kind of spell that took away your ability to think clearly.

"i don't know how to fix what i broke, but i promise you one thing – you won't have to go through this alone. i want to be with you, y/n. i'll do anything to fix this, if you'll just let me. if you’ll let me back in."

you found yourself at a standstill. part of you wanted to throw yourself into his arms, to feel like everything was returning to normal, but the other part still feared trusting him again, afraid that you’d be hurt once more.

"Joost, you left me" you began, feeling a surge of sudden sorrow and anger rising within you "you fucking left me!"

Joost stood frozen, his hand slowly dropping from your cheek as if every syllable of your words was a blow that pierced straight into his heart. his lips pressed into a thin line of helplessness.

"i never wanted to leave you" he said, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions "i never wanted to hurt you. i just… i just needed to find a way to understand what was happening. you know how much you mean to me…" he paused, as if unable to finish, as though every word he spoke felt too small to carry the weight of what he truly felt.

"mean something to you?!" you shouted directly into his face, unable to keep your emotions in check any longer "if i meant anything to you, you wouldn’t have left me hanging for five fucking weeks without a single word!" you stopped, feeling your heart break all over again "you just disappeared, like we were nothing… like i was nothing."

Joost clenched his fists, his eyes filled with turmoil, never leaving yours. his face inched dangerously close to yours, but you knew you couldn’t let yourself falter. with a swift motion, you stormed toward the door, desperate to escape the pointless torment of this confrontation.

before you could reach the handle, he moved in an instant, his body blocking the exit as he positioned himself in front of the door.

"i won’t let you run away" he said, his voice trembling "you’re not going to make the same mistake i did."

you looked at him, feeling anger and pain begin to mix with something else - maybe fear, maybe the desire to understand what really happened. but you couldn’t give him that satisfaction. not now.

“Joost, move the hell out of the way!”

his eyes narrowed, as if the words you spoke were a blow that landed straight in his chest. he stood there for a moment, analyzing you, and you felt a wave of frustration building inside you.

“y/n, stop” he said quietly, but his voice carried something that sounded like desperation “i won’t let you leave, not without talking. we need to sort this out.”

“just move!” you shouted, unable to contain your emotions. you shut your eyes, trying to calm the rising ache in your chest.

“stay, i’m begging you…” his voice broke suddenly.

Joost grabbed you by the waist, and you felt his body suddenly sink down in front of you.

you stood there, staring at him, feeling his hands tighten around your hips. his breathing was quick, uneven, and his eyes, filled with boundless desperation, looked at you as if pleading for forgiveness, for something he couldn’t find within himself.

you felt as though the entire world had stopped around you. you stood frozen, uncertain and disoriented, with Joost kneeling before you, his face buried against your waist like he was seeking refuge. you held your breath, afraid he might vanish in an instant. your hands reached for his chin, forcing him to look at you.

“Joost…” you whispered his name, barely audible, feeling your hand tremble “what happened to us?”

you knelt beside him, feeling your heart pounding harder and your entire body shaking with emotion. without words, without thinking, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling his body close to yours. you wanted to feel him, to close the distance, even though every part of you screamed to run away. his warmth seeped through your arms.

he pulled you closer and your heart nearly stopped when you felt his body shaking in your embrace. then, in the quiet space around you, came a muffled sob, stifled against your chest. it was a sound that filled your mind, shaking you in a way you hadn’t expected.

you felt his body reacting to the pain he must have carried for weeks, as every tear fell down his cheeks, despite his attempts to hide them. you heard that sound, a raw reminder of how deeply hurt both of you were.

Joost finally lifted his tear-streaked face, and something inside you broke again that night. you knew that pain, you knew that emptiness, but seeing him like this now, seeing his face covered in tears, made you feel like something was shifting. maybe, despite all the hurt you’d both endured, there was still a chance to fix this.

“i love you” you heard his gentle voice, and for a moment, your heart stopped beating “i’m an idiot for realizing it so late.”

those words hit you like a wave, flooding you with a relief. you felt the weight of the weeks filled with silence and misunderstandings suddenly lift off your shoulders. you couldn’t stop the tears that began streaming down your cheeks.

“why didn’t you say it earlier?” you managed to whisper, your voice barely holding steady.

“i was scared, y/n” he said, his gaze locking onto yours “i was scared i wasn’t the one you were looking for. i felt like i didn’t deserve to be the one to make you happy” his voice trembled “and then everything got complicated… and i pulled away because I was afraid my feelings might hurt you. and you know what’s the worst part? that all this time, instead of fighting, i just let my fear control me. and now i see that was the dumbest mistake of my life.”

instead of searching for a meaningful answer, you simply leaned in and pressed your lips to his. Joost froze for a moment, feeling the delicate connection as your lips met. despite all the words he had spoken just moments before, this was what you both had longed for. the kiss was filled with unease, but also relief.

when you pulled away, you stared at each other in silence, as though both of you were trying to comprehend what had just happened. Joost gazed into your eyes, then took a deep breath.

“thank you for doing that” he whispered, though it wasn’t clear if he meant the kiss or the fact that you had let him back into your world.

you didn’t reply. instead, you rested gently against him, as if trying to convey everything you felt without words. just silence and closeness - expressing more than any explanation could.

“how about a shower together?” you asked after a moment, feeling the need to wash away the weight of all the emotions you had been through.

Joost looked at you, surprised, but there was something in his eyes that revealed the suggestion wasn’t strange at all. it was exactly what you both needed.

“sounds perfect” he said quietly, his voice still trembling slightly as if he couldn’t quite believe you were here, together, after everything.

he stood up, extending a hand to help you. Joost’s grip was warm and steady as he guided you to your feet. when you both stepped into the bathroom, the soft light reflected off the gleaming tiles, creating an atmosphere of calm. he closed the door behind you, and the silence that followed was different from before. it wasn’t the heavy, tension-filled quiet - it was something that gave you both space to simply be together, to be yourselves.

without a word, he moved to the shower, adjusting the water to just the right temperature. every motion he made was careful, almost reverent, as if he was trying to understand what you were feeling without rushing you. at last, he turned to you with a gentle smile.

“do you want me to help you?” he asked softly, his tone patient and unpressuring, as though he understood that you needed to go at your own pace.

“yes, please…” you replied quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, as you felt your heart slowly settling back into its normal rhythm.

it was a moment where you could let go, where you didn’t have to think about everything that had happened before. just about the now - him, you, and what you had in this present moment. Joost moved with deliberate tenderness as he began to lift your shirt over your head. finally, his warm hands traveled to the button of your jeans, and you felt your breath catch in your throat.

“it’s just me” his voice carried a soothing calm, grounding you in a way that reminded you you could trust him.

a moment later, you stood before him in nothing but your underwear, which soon joined the rest of your clothes on the floor. joost’s eyes roamed over you, filled with tenderness that made your breath hitch.

“please, don’t make me stand here naked by myself” you said with a small, playful smile.

Joost chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm, before starting to shed his own clothes. you watched him with curiosity, your gaze tracing the lines of his body. when he noticed your eyes on him, he paused momentarily, a faint hint of bashfulness flashing across his face before he offered you a soft smile. his body was marked with tattoos, each one telling a story, each one a piece of the man he was. you loved that about him - the way his tattoos painted a vivid picture of someone unapologetically himself.

without a word, he stepped closer, his hands finding their place on your hips. his touch was warm, steady. the sound of the water streaming from the shower filled the room, but it felt distant, merely a backdrop to the moment. every touch, every movement, was careful, infused with intimacy, as though the entire world had melted away, leaving only the two of you.

you stood face to face now, completely vulnerable, with no barriers between you. as you stepped into the shower together, the warm water immediately washed over your bodies, creating a small, intimate space where there was no need for words or explanations.

Joost positioned himself behind you, and you felt his hand gently glide across your shoulders, as if he wanted to shield you from the world. you closed your eyes, letting the warmth of the water and his touch calm your nerves. all the weight you'd been carrying for the past weeks slowly began to melt away. you felt his hands move across your body, massaging it, each movement lifting away the remnants of fear and pain.

“you don’t have to say anything” he whispered, pulling you closer, so you could feel his breath on your neck “i’m here, really.”

in that moment, you needed nothing more. just the warm water, the silence you shared, and the feeling that, despite everything, you had both found your way back to each other.

"i just wanna say one thing" you started, resting your head on his chest "i love you in a way that's hard to put into words."

[l1v1ngd3dgrrl]

See you again [Daisuke x reader]

an: winner of my 'getting caught one-shot' poll. You're a pony express worker BUT you're not part of the Tulpar crew! instead you're doing an internship on another ship. You meet Daisuke during some training courses and before the ships get ready to take off the two of you sneak off and end your training with a bang (literally).

This took me longer than I wanted to I'm so sorry y'all. Consider this my gift to y'all <3

Word count: 1,587

MDNI banner: CafeKitsune

CW(S): Soft dom! Daisuke...I guess?, Semi Public sex and getting caught, fem terms/description for reader, one-night stands without the night part, dirty talk that isn't super filthy, dry humping uhh.. I don't think there's anything else that would apply? Daisuke is ooc again. freaksuke is partially canon i think so who knows.

It all started with these training courses that any new employees at Pony Express had to take. A week long very boring event that made you regret even applying for this job in the first place. Had it not been for your fellow Intern, Daisuke, you probably would have jumped ship from day one. He made things suck less with his cheesy jokes and not-so-suave pick up lines. It was cute honestly, watching him stumble over his words when the two of you talked one on one.

As the week progressed your friendship with Daisuke grew, and as that friendship grew so did your little mini crush on him. He was a good looking guy after all. You pushed those feelings down though, the likelihood of being put on the same ship was slim to none, So when Daisuke pulled you aside after the last class had ended to suggest spending some time together before you were separated you agreed in a heartbeat.

What you didn't expect was your little hang out to make its way into one of the lesser used hallways in the headquarters ,with both of you in some random office kissing each other as if your lives depended on it. His hands gripped your hips as he backed you into the door, fingers looping themselves in your belt loops on your jeans.

The thrill of being in a place where you two could easily get caught excited you in some odd way. Deciding to go all in, you grasp his face with both hands, deepening the kiss.

It catches him off guard and he lets out a surprised grunt, but smiles against your lips.

Game on.

He's hard. You can feel him rub against you from the confines of his jeans, The denim pulled taut around his bulge. You roll your hips against his and he groans. Quiet and throaty. "That's what we're doing?" he chuckles and rolls his hips against your own. The way his bulge rubs against you is divine, each thrust sending tingles down your spine.

Both of you had pulled away from the kiss, breaths coming out in short huffs and connected by a string of saliva as you essentially dry hump each other against the door. The pace now slightly erratic and frantic. He leans forward and rests his forehead against yours. "Good?" he mumbles and you wordlessly nod and bite your lip.

Every so often in the hall you hear the sound of footsteps and people talking, A reminder that you're not alone and could get interrupted at any minute.

He's the first to pull away, glancing over his shoulder and around the room. His eyes land on the desk that was in the center, well organized and decorated with expensive looking trinkets. He turns back to you and smirks. You simply raise an eyebrow as he gently tugs you by your hand. He sits in the rolling chair and pulls you onto his lap, his hands grasping your thighs as he presses kisses to your neck. He continues to grind into you, a bit slower now that he was sitting down.

You close your eyes and place both hands on the desk in front of you, Fingers mindlessly tracing the grain beneath them. "You're so pretty." he murmurs in-between kisses. "Ever since that first training course," he places a wet kiss on your pulse point, which makes you gasp. "I've wanted you."

"I've -ah- wanted you too." you feel him grin against your neck. His hands move their way to the button on your jeans, hesitating for a moment just in case you were gonna say no.

When your objection never came he hurriedly unbuttoned your jeans, and a hand slipping into your pants. Instantly his fingers rubbed circles on your clothed clit. You spread your legs a bit further, allowing him a little bit more room to work.

His hand pulled out of your pants and pushed your jeans down to your knees, his fingers move their way back to your underwear and push the fabric aside. One digit pumped inside you, curling as it moved.

Your hands grasped the desk as he moved, the sounds of your slick echoing in the room. A whine threatens to spill past your bitten lips. Behind you Daisuke chuckles, "Sounds like she likes that." He inserts another, pumping and curling the same as the first.

The whine you were holding back rips itself from your throat and you slap a hand over your mouth quickly. Daisuke groans at the sound and pulls his fingers out. You turn back to look at him and see him going to undo his belt. You stand up, careful not to trip over your own pants. His belt and jeans, and boxers hit the floor and pool around his ankles.

"Lean against the desk for me?" He whispers in your ear. You comply and lean against the wood, Daisuke begins to inset himself into you, it takes everything in your power to not cry out as you feel him sink deeper into you. Not out of pain, but at the sheer fullness you're feeling.

He bottoms out with a soft moan, both hands planted firmly against your hips. "Remember we gotta be quiet," he begins to move. "Don't wanna risk getting caught like this." You clench around him and chuckles. "-hah- seems like you like that idea though."

His hips snap against your backside, positioning in and out at an intense pace, you're mewling and frantically trying to stifle your moans against your palm. Daisuke is no better, swearing and panting under his breath.

You arch your back, allowing him hit a different angle. The second best decision you ever made, he's hitting just the right spot over and over, your palm drops and you let your moans flow freely. His name leaves your lips like a mantra.

Daisuke's pace begins to falter and he squeezes his eyes shut, no doubt reaching his breaking point. He holds back, determined to make you cum first.

"You're so hot-" he leans down to place wet kisses along your neck. "So perfect." You crane your neck as far as you can from this angle to capture his lips in a kiss. He obliges, tenderly kissing you back.

"I can't hold out for much longer." you admit against his lips. "I'm almost there too," He places a peck and resumes thrusting his hips. "I'll take you there I promise."

one of his hands sneak it's way down between your legs, thumb rubbing your clit as his thrusts get sloppier. The combination of the sensations is enough to make you see stars, jaw hanging open and a high pitched moan leaving your lips. He rubs you through the last bit of your high, his hips desperately chasing his own.

"So close," he pulls his thumb away and places the hand back on your hip. "S-so close, where do you want it?" You push back against him, mind still buzzing from the orgasm. "Inside-I want you to do it inside."

After that his hips thrust out of you once, twice, and a third time stilling as he painted your insides with his cum. Gasping for breath as he did. He stays inside you for a moment, trying to gather his wits.

A sudden cough from across the room catches the attention of both of you, and you feel your heart stop beating for a moment.

"Ah-Mr.Juarez and Ms. (L/N)," One of the instructors of the course says clearing his throat and looking away. "I'll let you two get decent, but after that you need to get yourselves down to the multi-purpose room."

"Shit-I'm sorry!" Daisuke splutters, quickly pulling out of you and tugging his boxers and pants back up. You cover your face and groan, certain you're gonna die from embarrassment.

"Just-" the instructor holds up his hand and sighs. "Just clean up and go on your way. I'll turn a blind eye to this." He turns to leave the room leaving you two alone again."

In a flash you're both dressed, clothes slightly disheveled from your activities. Not a word was spoken to each other as the two of you walked to the multi purpose room, embarrassment still lingering in the air.

"So uhm-" Daisuke starts bashfully. "Besides getting caught uh..How do you feel?" a rosy color dusting his cheeks. "I feel great actually." You admit, a smile creeping on your lips. "Cool cool," he nods and sucks his teeth. He digs around in his pocket and hands you a sticky note. "I was actually wanting to give you this before we had sex but uh there's my number so we can keep in contact."

The sticky note had his number, along side a drawing of a dog with the words 'text me?-Daisuke'

You grin and tuck the note into your pocket. "I like that, I'll give you mine once we're in the multi-purpose room."

He returns your grin and runs a hand through his hair. "Even if this doesn't turn into something more, I still think you're super cool and I wanna hang out more." he gestures to the logo on one of the walls. "Outside of all this I mean."

"I'd like that a lot, after we get back we can go grab pizza or something."

"Add going to the arcade and it's a date."

You giggle and shove his shoulder playfully. "Alright, I'll hold you to it. Pizza and arcade games."

[romana-after-dark]

Our Gentle Sins: Part 12

Thank you so so so much to @plasticbabies for making this beautiful header!!!! we finally have a good one!

Dark!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Series Masterlist : Main Masterlist : Logan Masterlist

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Chapter summary: Past. Dolly tells it all. Present. Has Logan really changed?

Warnings: This fic features non con, pregnancy, and themes of religious trauma. I will not be saying everything that happens to warm you, by clicking read more you are prepared for extremely dark themes and that you at 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

Before

With your hair fixed and dressed smoothed, there was no sign of the passion you and Logan had shared, save for a smudge of tinted lip palm. Logan reached out, hated how you flinched even if just so slightly, and wiped it clean. He resisted the urge to lick his thumb, just to taste another trace of you, so he settled with his tongue darting out to his own lips, just for a remainder of your essence.

You and Logan sat on the couch. You faced the ladder that stood against the tall book shelf; Logan faced you.

Killed people? You? You, who cried when he was about to kill a spider, begging him to take it outside. You, who were the shining beacon to mutant kids that they could be loved by humans. You, who were so innocent you shuttered at the brush of his hand on yours.

“It wasn’t in self defense. I don’t have an excuse.”

“Was it Mark?” God, he hoped it was.

You nod.

“Sounds like self defense to me.”

Your hair flies out of its pristine condition with how aggressively you shake your head, brows knitted together in anguish and frustration. Logan didn’t understand, he could tell. He wasn’t sure he could ever understand you, really.

“He was asleep, Lo-”

“Dolly, he beat you bloody, he almost killed you-”

“He wasn’t the only one I killed.”

The silence hung in the air for a few moments as Logan waited. Waited for you to elaborate. Waited for it to make sense in his head. Waited for his anger at your secrets to subside.

“Listen doll,” He stated, clear and assertive. “Just tell me. I can handle it. You want me to tell you the awful things I’ve done? I will, if it’s gonna make you be honest with me. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep waiting for you.”

A little nod, then you swallowed. It began. “My sister was getting married. Grace. She was 14… her proposed husband was 29.”

“Jesus christ…” Logan didn’t exactly think he was the most morally superior man out there, but he thought any grown man attracted to a teenager was disgusting.

The hem of your long sleeve makes for a good fidget; the weather was getting colder. “I couldn’t do it, Lo. I couldn’t sit by and just- just allow my baby sister to go through what I’d gone through!” You still weren’t looking at him, but you didn’t stop. “I thought about calling the police, but what would it do? Our parents consented, and at the time she wasn’t going to say she didn’t want to, he was a handsome older man, of COURSE she wanted to be with him! I wanted Mark, and look where that landed me!” Finally, you turned to Logan, tears welling up your red eyes, but a look of determination on your face. You didn’t look sorry. “She was 14, Logan. She didn’t know what she was doing.”

“I understand.” And he did. If he thought Rogue was getting herself into a situation like that, he’d have stepped in. Hell, sometimes he was ready to beat Remy’s ass. If he had actually thought Remy did anything to that girl, he’d be dead. “She was just a kid.”

A deep breath. “My parents, Grace, her fiance and his parents came to our house one night, we lived in town and they were wedding planning. I took Mark’s gun…” You give a dry laugh. “He pistol whipped me with it more than once, so I knew where he kept it. That was his mistake. I put the silencer on and… I guess just… I dunno. I don’t really remember it. I shot Mark, my parents, the fiance… the fiance's parents. I- sometimes I feel bad about that…”

“Don’t.” His hand reaches for yours. “They were enabling their kid to rape a teenager. Did they have daughters?”

“Yeah… a few younger girls in high school.”

“You probably saved them from getting sold off too.”

“But now they’re in foster care! And my siblings! Our families are torn apart and it’s my fault!”

“Dolly!” Logan pulls you into him, and for a minute you freak out, you hit him and shout, but soon you fall into his strong arms, sobbing. “Your parent’s did this, not you! You did everything to protect your family, this is not. Your. Fault.” He felt you cry into his arms. He never really thought about your brothers and sisters, but he realizes now how much you must miss them. How much you must think and worry about them… Charles knows your story, has he told you how they- Charles knows. Of course he does, he saved you, he took you in… who else knows?

“Does Remy know?”

He feels you nod against him, and jealousy spirals in his chest. “Yeah, I- he and I were up after a nightmare and it… came out.”

He rubs your back. He tries to turn it around, to make sure you didn’t know how much it was eating him up that Remy knew you better than him. “He agrees with me, doesn’t he? And he still loves you. We don’t think you’re a bad person.” A sick part of him was mad you opened up to remy, that you found comfort in him, not Logan. That you didn’t need Logan as long as you had Remy. He takes your chin in his hand, gentle and uncalloused from his healing, touching your soft, wet face as he guides it to his own. “I still love you, Dolly. I love you, and this only makes me love you more.”

Your eyes shone, sadness there but also a glint of love. “I- I love you, Logan, but… I can’t do this right now. I need a little time… just to get myself straight. Is- Is that okay?”

“Dolly…” He kissed your lips, tasting the salt of your tears and the cherry lip balm, trying to force his tongue in your mouth.

“Lo-” You were cut off by his kiss, your hands gripping his flannel shirt began to press flat against his chest.

“Just love me, doll face. Just love me, and it’s gonna be okay.”

“I do!” He could smell the adrenalin and sweat on you, but also the arousal dripping from between your legs when his hand dipped down to the curve of your ass. “I just -mmph- Lo, I need time.”

He ground you down, feeling his erection between your closed thighs as you try to squire away. He just needed you to see, to see how much he loved you, to see how happy you could be together and how good he could make you feel. “Everything is gonna be okay, I promise.”

He needed to be what Remy wasn’t, what he hoped Remy wasn’t, and if he was, he was gonna be it better.

Then he felt a tear drop on his collarbone, and he stopped. He stopped despite the urge to fuck you open right here on this couch, to make you scream loud enough everyone knew who you belonged to. To claim you and fill you so publicly that Scott knew he couldn’t take you from him. Not you. Not you because you were different.

But he didn’t want you crying. He didn’t want you like that.

“Shhh, shhhhhhh it’s okay Dolly, it’s okay. We’ll wait. We’ll wait until you're ready.” He kissed your forehead, cuddling you to his warm chest. “Ain’t doing nothing until ya ready, baby girl.”

After

You liked Wade. A lot.

He was a little out of pocket sometimes, way more overtly sexual at first than you were comfortable with. He made some comment about some sex toy you didn’t understand, and when he tried to explain your face was burning up. Logan proceeds to smack him and drag him out of the room. There was a snikt, and a brief shriek from Wade, then quiet as they muttered back and forth. A minute later, Logan came into the room again, looking sheepish as he got a wet washcloth and said ‘don’t ask.’ Remy told you he probably stabbed Wade, and upon seeing the horrified look on your face explain Wade’s healing that the guy, honestly, liked it.

When Wade and Logan returned, Wade was wearing Logan’s school sweater.

Anyway, after that, Wade apologized and was more careful with how he spoke. He was still strange, a little gremlin at times, but an overall nice guy. You liked how much he made Logan laugh, even when he tried to pretend he was annoyed.

You liked Rogue too. She was a nice girl, sweet, and had a strength you admired. Logan loved her too, it was clear. 

And God, so did Remy.

Remy treated Rogue like a goddess, worshipping her every move and his black and red eyes following her with adoration. It made you happy to see. Remy was a good friend, a good person, and a good man; you knew he’d treat her well, and you liked seeing him happy. Maybe in a few years your baby boy would have a friend. Your hand goes to your stomach, feeling a kick. You like that idea?

Wade gasps loudly, looking at you. “Is he kicking??” Wade loved kids. Apparently, he and Vanessa had been talking about having kids. Something about naming them Cher? But that was before it went south.

“You wanna feel?”

Wade eyes lit up, but he hesitated still, blue frosting on his face. Rogue, Jubilee, and Kitty planned a surprise party for you after you let Rogue have the card saying the gender. The party was going nicely, Logan was talking to Jean about something you couldn’t hear, and Scott was scowling at them from across the room, ignoring whatever Kitty was talking about. When Jean laughed, you mirrored Scotts glare with a sad look of your own. You didn’t dislike Jean; she was nice. She had been handling your pregnancy and was nothing but kind and gentle. Still, you were only human, and she had sex with your fiance. Your eyes meet Scotts visor, his face unreadable. There was something similar in your positions.

You want to be distracted.

“C’mon, Logans busy.”

When Wade glances at the former couple, he makes a face you can’t quite decipher, then comes over to you. Taking his hand in yours, you guide him to where your son is kicking. It’s over your dress of course, but it still feels strange to have a man touching you, even with Wade being respectful.

He’s absolutely beaming. With a slight, breathy laugh, “Guard dog isn’t gonna bite my hand off, is he?”

“No, I promise.” You laugh back. After feeling the kick a few times, Wade pulls back. For all his unserious bravado, you noticed he’s particularly careful not to touch you or not touch longer than needed. Logan told you he’s secretly insecure about his skin, he thinks it freaks people out. You will admit, it took a little getting used to. Of course it did, just like Remy’s eyes or Kurt’s blue fur. But you didn’t think he was gross, and you didn’t mind his hand reaching to help you up or steading you when you trip. You were beginning to trust Wade like you trusted Remy.

“I’m glad you’re here.” You smile warmly. “You and Rogue. I like seeing Logan so happy.”

“Yeah,” Wade laughs, “He’s like a teenager finding pornhub for the first time, damn near giddy.”

You weren’t sure what pornhub was, but you could guess. “Actually, we wanted to talk to you about something… Logan feels to awkward, but we were thinking baby names-”

“Oh I love baby names! Got a fuck ton picked out. Cher was number one of course but considering Remy’s absolutely incomprehensible cajun it might get mixed up with the whole ‘chere, cherie, mon cherie’ bit,” he mocks the accent. “Might not be the best. For boys, I hope you stay away from the god awful braxtyn, brayden, etc names, but DONT fall into the trap of those grandfather names. Theres 1000 baby Henry’s right now, i can’t keep doing it-”

“Wade.”

“Yes?”

“We picked out a name already.”

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed. “Go on. But I’m warning you, I will be honest.”

You giggle, and see Logan glance over at you. He gives a warm smile, and you give a little wave before turning back to Wade. “First name is gonna be Steven.”

“Oh course, like the bible guy.”

“The ‘bible guy’ is a respected figure in the church, Wade.”

“And which church is that again? I missed that part- never mind, go on.”

You shoot the man a pointed semi-glare, but in good humor. “The biblical figure is a factor, but also Remy’s middle name is Étienne, which is a french version of Steven.”

Wade sighs dreamily. “Oh, that beautiful hunk of a man is going to absolutely adore that.”

“And for the middle name, we were thinking… Winston. Well, actually, I wanted Winston for the first name but Logan said other kids would make fun of him for having the name of a cigarette brand-” you were nearly knocked over with the hug. “Ah!”

“FUCK! I LOVE YOU GUYS SO FUCKING MUCH RIGHT NOW!” 

Logan was over between you in a second, steadying you from the force of his hug. “Watch it, bu-” Wade did actually knock over Logan this time.

“I”M SO FUCKING HARD RIGHT NOW!”

*

The rest of the party went wonderfully. You told everyone the name you had chosen, bringing Remy to tears as he hugged you.

“None of this would be possible without you, Remy.” You try not to think about ‘this’ including what Logan had done to you, but Remy didn’t know about that. Remy had gotten you guys together, and helped along the way, he was the reason you were having Stevie. 

The only thing wrong was later in the night. Wade rambled to you and Logan about how things were going to get real confusing if Stevie was a mutant, because it was already confusing enough with the amount of Steven heroes. Apparently there was a Steve Rogers, Stephan Strange, and a Steven grant already. You didn’t know what he was talking about, but you let him go off. 

Logan was not paying attention. As Wade happily rambled away, switching topics to the wedding in two months, you notice Logan clutching the beer bottle tightly and glaring hard in the corner. There stood Remy between Rogue’s legs as she sat up on the counter. Most guests had filed out by this point, leaving only you, Wade, Logan, Remy and Rogue, and then Kurt and Emma talking at the table.

*

“Oh come on.” You laugh, washing up dishes. Jubilee had promised they’d take care of the clean up in the morning but you didn’t want to leave a big mess so you and Logan were getting the worst of it done. “It’s Remy, you like him, remember? We’re naming our son after him.”

Logan was throwing all the trash away. “I like him as your friend, doll face. But he’s a whore.”

With a small gasp, you turn around. “Please don’t call my friend that, Logan.”

He softens just a bit before sighing an throwing a beer bottle in the trash. It shatters. “I’m sorry, baby, but you know it’s true. He’s slept with half the mansion.”

 “He hasn’t slept with anyone all year. You know Rogue left him heart broken.”

“She didn’t do anything to him!”

“Don’t raise your voice at me!” You point at him with a wet hand. “I’m not blaming her. I like her, and I know you’re protective of her, but don’t act like Remy beat and assaulted her.” It was a pointed remark, a little reminder that you hadn’t, in fact, forgotten. Logan’s face is angry, something that has rarely, if ever, been directly at you. It makes you nervous. You go back to the dishes. “It’s just Remy. He’ll be good to her.”

“He’s so much older than her! She’s just a kid, dolly!”

You scoff. “They have a smaller age gap than we do.”

“Don’t fucking talk back to me.”

You hated this, the way he spoke to you like you dad, like Mark did. What had happened? Why was he acting like this all of a sudden? The alcohol?

“I don’t think you get a say in what she does when you disappeared on her without a work just because Jean-”

The hit was so hard your forehead slammed into the cabinet.

Before you could even react, before you had a chance to walk through the steps that Logan had hit you, you were in his arms, sitting on the kitchen floor.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry baby, oh my god, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t…” He stroked your hair, your body shaking a bit but too in shock to cry. 

He hit you. Logan hit you. And now your head throbbed from hitting the wood cabinet and fuck, did it ache

“It wasn’t supposed to be hard, I just wanted your attention. You know that right? I wouldn’t hurt you?”

Logan wouldn’t hurt you. Logan wouldn’t hurt you. You flash back to months ago in this very kitchen, breaking down crying to Scott that he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t… He was going to know now, he would know he hit you, Logan couldn’t hide it. Everything that you’d built together would fall apart.

The team would fall apart, people picking sides.

Surely you’d lose Rogue, Wade, and Kurt, they’d take Logan’s side.

Would you lose Remy too? Would he chose keeping Rogue over you?

Stevie would be raised without a father once Charles saw into your mind… but Logan’s voice echo’d in your head from that day. ‘Not gonna tell Charles or anyone, not when you got as wet as you did, right?’. Charles would know. He’d know you were wet, that’d you’d gotten turned on… that’d know that before, the times you and Logan kissed even way back to the dressing room incident. He’d know you told Logan you loved him… so what right did you have to call it rape?

“Holy shit, are you okay?” Bobby walked into the kitchen to see you two together, you crying in Logan’s lap.

“Yeah.” logan grumbled, an edge to his voice giving away he felt at least the slightest bit nervous. “She hit her head. Slipped on water at the sink.”

Bobby kneels down, ice frosting his hands he puts where the goose egg is forming. It feels good, like an ice pack. “I’m gonna get Jean, here-” He reached up to grab a dry rag, wets and then freezes it. 

Logan tries to protest. “No, I think she’s fine.”

But Bobby was already heading out. “I’ll bring her here.”

“Wait! Just- I’ll carry her to the med bay, meet us there.”

Bobby shouts something in confirmation, and Logan scoops you up. “Poor baby, slipping on the water…”

Your head was spinning and throbbing, trying to make sense of what was happening. Did you slip? That had to be it. That had to be it. You had to have slipped.

Your head hurt.

LOGAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNN

Come on brother

Okay, one step closer! Someone on ao3 said this series was like a puzzle, and that made me so happy bc thats what i wanted it to be.

We got one big piece now; What dolly was hiding.

The next big piece is why did Logan go from sweet, soft logan to raping her? It does not excuse him at all, in fact it might make logan look worse.

thank you so much for all your love an support!

Unfortunetly it might be a min before the next chapter. i fell behind of writing bc holidays are BUSY at olive garden!!!! I gotta get the final chapter of rooms on fire out!!! its in my triple frontier list if you are interested!!! its a cult au, lots of twists and turns.

poll time!

happy hanukkah everyone!!!! If you celebrate like me, please check out this companion guide for rabbis for ceasefire, praying for a ceasefire, the safety of innocent palistinians the return of the hostages. You all should know where I stand on this, but supporting a ceasefire is bipartisan.

I will be making a donation to Doctors without borders this Hanukkah, and I greatly encourage you to do the same.

If you celebrate christmas, MERRY CHRISTMAS! Remember that the land jesus was born in is being torn apart by bombs, rape, guns, starvation and lack of shelter. Look through this prayer guide to pray for peace, and consider backing your prayers with monitary donation. Peace on earth means civilians not being bombs and the return of innocent hostages, both of which is supported by a ceasefire. Here is one specifically for catholics, the religion i was raised in.

Thank you for all your love and constant support here!

I had a rough holiday few weeks bc i work in a restraunt, and then saturday i got into a minor car accident. ran into a light pole. it was literally all my fault i have 0 excuses, it wasnt even icy. I hit my head and got whiplash by my car is drivable thank you g-d.

life goes on!

@multiversed-daydreamer @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @del-ightfulling @miraclesabound @hindi-si-ikay @samsamsantos @madamerubrum @shybluebirdninja a @hornystan @rogueinmymind @accountforreading123 @yawnetu @princessanglophile @and-claudia a @new-genesis100 @teaganthemorningstar @oldloganslittleslut @zaggprincess2 @bugsinmyeyez @groundclueless @cosmolight @nonamevenus

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Christmas Special

(5.6k words, wrote this in 24h <3 Merry bloody Christmas, guys! TW murder, I guess. Nothing too detailed, tho)

I woke up with a headache. Not a hangover, mind you. I am above getting such things, and in any case it's unfitting for a man such as I to get drunk. No, I had one of those classical headaches, the likes of which are received after a fine blow to the head.

That naturally implied another assassination attempt. How coarse. I opened my eyes and tested my bonds. There were none. Either my captors were convinced I would not run, or they were remarkably incompetent fools indeed.

The room I was held in was… strange, for lack of a better word. There were bright lights that danced across the ceiling, a roaring fireplace, and a table chock full of meats, vegetables, and grains. Yet, that was not the greatest surprise of all.

There was, for unfathomable reasons, a massive tree. Just— sitting, in the center of the room, dominating the festivities. It was gaudy with glowing lights, glittering twine, and baubles infesting its surface. 

Oh, and there were people. Lots of them, in fact, all looking equally confused. We were draped on sofas, sprawled out on armchairs, resting against walls. I was, perhaps, the first of us to wake up, and I swept a watchful eye across the room.

A surprising number of familiar faces caught my eye. Hash, my darling, was there, along with her lowborn friend the vampire. And, would you believe it? There was my old nemesis, the Godhuntress herself, lying blissfully unconscious, just waiting for me to kill her.

By instinct, my hand found its way to my dagger. Some of the bloodlust must have shown on my face, for I caught a mortal boy flinch and hide behind his companion. 

I was halfway to her exposed throat when said companion grabbed my wrist. “You don't want to do that,” she murmured, and her tone gave me pause. It was far too weighty to belong to a mortal, the regality in it far more reminiscent of one of us ancients.

I turned to her and showed off my best smile, the one with all my teeth. She didn't so much as blink at it. “Oh, believe me, miss. I really do. Nothing, and I mean nothing, in this world would grant me more pleasure than snuffing out the life of this vile monster. Now, how about you let me go about my business, hmm?”

She remained imperturbed. “Not happening, kid. Now, how about you tell me what's going on? I don't like this one bit.”

I shrugged and withdrew my blade. Under that strangely cold grip of hers, I sensed a power I did not want to mess with. “Damned if I know. Last I remember, I was in bed, sleeping.” 

“Your kind sleep?” She sounded skeptical. “Actually, what the hell are you?”

“I could say the same of you, miss,” I replied. “But I suppose I'll go first, shall I? I'm a forest spirit, and you may call me Hans.” I left the last portion of my name unspoken, for no one as versed in inhuman dealings as I would ever give my name freely. A damned shame that mine was so short, however. Two syllables was not a great deal of room to make aliases with.

“Katherine, and I suppose you could quantify me as a demon.” She paused. “You don't look like a spirit to me. How old are you?”

I crinkled my nose at her. “Old enough to handle my own, Miss Katherine. And you're one to talk, wearing the face of a little girl. Don't the humans call that pedophilia?”

“No, you're pedo-bait. I'm jailbait. There's a difference, pipsqueak.” The smile was slipping off her face. “Or maybe your little-boy brain is just too underdeveloped to understand that?”

I didn't take the bait. “Fortunately for us, that's not the case. And if you'll excuse me, I'll go find someone more cordial to chat with.” The Godhuntress was stirring, and much as I wanted her dead, a fair fight with her was not one I would win. 

The demoness Katherine let me go, turning back to her mortal boy-toy. I beelined to Hash, the one soul in that room I trusted wholeheartedly. “Wake up, my dear. We've got trouble.”

At that last word, he bolted awake. “Trouble?” He surveyed the room. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “Trouble.”

The two of us watched as more and more people got up. The vast majority of them were humans, gangly and pock-marked and over-solid, though I did catch glimpses of spirits and others of our ilk here and there. Katherine was attempting to interrogate the Godhuntress, something I wished her the best of luck with. If I was fortunate enough, perhaps they would get into a fight, and at least one of my problems would be solved.

“We should try to investigate,” Hash whispered. “Someone must know something, yea?”

“If you are so inclined, do it yourself.” I pursed my lips. “I think I shall wait for them to come to me. And sample the food, while I'm at it.”

“Are you crazy? We don't know where it's from. We don't know what it's made of. We don't know jack shit, and you want to play it cool? Have you finally lost your marbles? The only kind of person who would act so casually in this scenario is-” He stopped in his tracks. “Oh. So that's your game. I like it. Dangerous as fuck, but that's life, isn't it?”

“Yes, that is life. Now hop to it, my love. Between the two of us, I think we can get a grip over this crowd in no time.”

Hash gave me a final nod, and strolled off. The first thing I did was grab a glass of wine. Everyone looked more suave like that, and it gave me an excuse to put myself in the center of the room. Several curious eyes followed me as I picked up a plate of venison on the way back, and it was not long before the first of my visitors followed.

She was a young woman, something I sensed would be a common theme in the hours to come, with a spear in hand and an unquenchable rage about her. I swirled my drink in its cup and waited for her to speak.

“Hey! Creepy little boy.” In my own name, was I going to have to be called little boy all evening? “Tell us what's going on, or I'm gonna shish-kebab you with my spear.” 

“I have no idea what you mean,” I replied, pretending to be preoccupied with the vortex within my flute of wine. That glorified stick of hers was hardly sharp enough to pierce a slice of bread, let alone me. “Why would you think I know anything at all, dear?”

“Because you're the only person who looks even slightly at home here? Everyone else is freaking out, and you're just sipping a drink. What are you, one of Santa's elves? Krampus' stolen children? Why are we stuck in a Christmas celebration?” She waved her spear around threateningly.

That was interesting. I did not know what Santa or Krampus were, but I did know the elves, and I knew I could not hope to pass for one in my life. “Maybe,” I said, winking. “Or maybe not.” With luck, she would elaborate.

The girl seemed to only grow angrier at my words, leveling her spear at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hash watch me with alarm. I shook my head slightly, warning her not to rescue me. It would be for the best if we did not show our hand yet. 

“Come on then. Aren't you going to stab me already?” I spread my arms, offering her a clear view of my chest. She narrowed her eyes, and for a moment I felt a genuine flash of fear. Beneath that gaze was something that writhed and fed on rot, something old as time itself and hardly less conquerable.

And then it was gone, as an old man grabbed her weapon and pulled it from her grasp. “Athena! What the hell are you doing?” He was followed by another human boy and… a summoner? 

Yes, a summoner, or something akin to it. I had not seen one of her kind in a very long time. The plot thickened. I have the newcomers a lazy smile, and they responded by tensing up.

“What on earth are you?” That was the summoner, pushing angry little Athena behind her. “You're not human, that's for sure.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Athena snapped, wrestling her spear back. “That thing knows something. I'm sure of it.”

The summoner met my gaze, piercing me right through. “No he doesn't,” she said, before I could recover. “He's bluffing.”

“Excuse me?” I pushed myself out of my chair, going nose to nose (or nose to collar, as the case was) with her in not-so-faux rage. “I know plenty, little mortal. For starters-” Pulling her down by the scruff of her tattered shirt, I whispered in her ear. “I know your little girl is cursed. I know that you are a witch, and a good one at that. And, I know that you really do not want to go back to where you came from, so how about you enjoy the food and leave me be, hmm?”

That last line was nothing more than an educated guess, but it paid off. They were too scruffy and thin to have been living in safe conditions, and I caught sight of more than one open sore on them. 

Gears turned in the summoner's brain, wondering if it was worth the cost to call my bluff. Eventually she stepped away from me. “My apologies, sir,” she said, nodding politely. “We'll leave you be.”

I grinned. “Thank you very much, little one. Go try the venison, if you feel peckish. I find it delightful.”

Athena opened her mouth to argue some more, but the summoner gave her a warning glance, and she left with naught more than a glare at me. Settling back in my chair, I took another sip of the wine.

“Hey, you're Hash's boyfriend, aren't you?” On the list of things I did not want to be called, that somehow ranked below ‘creepy little boy'. I turned to see Hash's vampire friend, still wearing his Smiley Mart™ shirt. What was his name: Dane? Dale? Dave?

Yeah, Dave sounded about right. “Hello, Dave,” I said, turning back around so I did not have to look at him. “Is there something you want?”

“Hash told me to come find you. She said you could use my help?” He stepped around so I was facing him once more. “I really don't know what to do, honestly.”

I sighed. “Go interrogate someone,” I told him, more to get him off my back than anything else. “Actually, go keep an eye on some people for me.” I pointed out the Godhuntress, who was flapping her wings in an attempt to get a mortal girl to stop poking them. 

“Is that who I think that is?” Dave's eyes widened. “You think this was her doing?”

“Hmm? Of course not. I want you to tell me when she looks distracted so I can go kill her.”

“You're crazy,” he said. “That's the Godhuntress. You know, the greatest deity since the Creator herself? Yeah, that Godhuntress. She'll squash you like a bug.”

“Doesn't matter. I will find a way.” I clenched my glass. “She took something very precious from me, and I will take my revenge, one way or another.”

“Alright, alright. It'll be a hell of a story to tell, in any case.” He made to leave, then turned back. “Say, is that wine any good? I'm feeling rather thirsty.”

I considered it. “It is rather dry,” I replied. “But fruity, too. Take that as you will.”

“Cool. Thanks, Hash's boyfriend,” he said, and the glint in his eye told me he was calling me names in insult. Unfortunately, by the time I had registered it, he was long gone.

People were beginning to crowd around the tables, finally encouraged to touch the food. That was when I spotted someone I had thought I would never see again: Merida Ryder. And with another forester at that! 

For once, curiosity got the better of me, and I trotted over to talk to her. She would not recognise me, of course. I had taken great pains to disguise myself that time, and I wondered how she would feel seeing my true face for once. 

“Well, well. If it isn't miss Merida, all grown up. Remember me?” I tapped her on the shoulder.

She turned around, and it broke my heart to see how she had changed. Her eyes were sunken, the lights gone from them. Merida looked down at me, and there was no spark of recognition. “No,” she said flatly.

The forester turned around, and he let out a little gasp. “You're-” I shushed him. 

“Can you not see I am trying to talk to someone here? It is most lovely to see a fellow Ces-ilre, but I must speak to Merida first,” I said. “Are you sure you don't remember me? I passed you that gun, all those fateful years ago.”

She blinked slowly. “Don't. I don't want to remember.” Merida shuddered. “Go away, Hans. Thank you for your help. I absolve you of the favours you owed me.”

I am not and have never been a stranger to suffering, but it hurt to see her crushed like that. “So you do recognise me,” I continued. “What happened, Merin? You used to be so happy.”

“I grew up.” 

And that was all she would say on the matter. The forester extracted my hand from her shoulder and led me back to my couch. I let him, of course, something in the hollow cavity where my heart should be aching. 

“You're the Spirit Emperor,” he whispered to me, snapping me out of my reverie. “What are you doing here, my lord? And how did you know Merida?”

“Same as you, and that is none of your business,” I whispered back, slipping into forester dialect. “What is your name and clan, sirrah?”

“Kristavla, formerly of the Ko clan. My lord.”

“So you were there when… the Incident happened.” I jerked my chin at the Godhuntress, now attempting to engage a very uncomfortable Dave in conversation. Or perhaps she was interrogating him.

“No. I was attending to my fiance, my lord. The late Kitsy Te-clan.”

“Oh. I killed her, did I not?” I vaguely remembered a foul-mouthed guard who had insulted me the moment I arrived on castle grounds.

“Yes, and I thank you for it.” Kristavla shook his head. “I will not speak ill of the dead, but she was not a good woman.” 

“I can imagine that.”

We sat there in silence for a few more moments. “Would you like to help me avenge our people?” I gestured again to the Godhuntress, who was being fawned over by a lich of some kind. “We may not get another chance.”

“I am not one for vengeance,” Kristavla said. “But you are a friend of my friend. And so I will. For you, my lord, and for our people, may their remains soak the earth.”

“Thank you. Be on your way, friend,” I told him. “Speak with the vampire in the demeaning costume—” I had to approximate a word for Dave's Smiley Mart uniform— “and see if you can isolate and weaken her. From there we shall make the kill.”

Kristavla nodded, and slipped away. Taking his place (for it seemed I would have an endless supply of supplicants today), was a lean, sly doctor. Her red hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and her skin was dry enough to resemble scales.

“Hello, Spirit Emperor,” she hissed. “Fancy seeing you caught up in the Christmas web.”

There was that word again. Christmas. “Care to explain, doctoress?” I offered her a seat. She was about as human as I, with the way she moved, though I could not tell what on earth she was.

“I am an Oracle,” she rasped, as though reading my mind. “And my people arranged this felicitous meeting.”

I froze up. “I see. And why should I believe you?”

She laughed, a sound that had more in common with the death of a small furry animal than anything friendly. “Your name is Hans-el Ko-clan. You killed and ate your parents to save the Goddess of Dreams. Your lover is a shapeshifter who will not tell you its true name, and you hold a grudge against the fallen angel they call the Godhuntress.”

“All very impressive,” I agreed. “ But any old fool could have worked that out with the right background knowledge. Tell me something nobody knows.”

The Oracle grinned, revealing red and raw gums. “Careful what you wish for, little boy.” She shifted closer, and I could smell the blood on her breath. “You claimed the throne by mimicking the magic-thieving spell the Godhuntress used on your dear friend. You helped the renegade Merida start the civil war in Palioden by orchestrating a situation in which she had to kill her sister using a gun you provided. And, as the topping on this pie, your worst fear is-”

“No!” It came out louder than I expected, and more than a few heads turned our way. “I believe that you are an Oracle. Please, do not continue this.”

The Oracle leaned back, victorious. “Good boy,” she murmured, proving that there was, in fact, a nickname I could dislike more than ‘Hash’s Boyfriend'.  “Now, I suggest you stop hiding in this little corner and get to moving the plot forward, will you, dear? You ought to be an active protagonist.” She pushed me off my chair. “And be grateful we didn't send you the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present or Future.”

Before I could ask her what the ghosts, or even Christmas, were, she was gone. Not gone like a ghost walker, or like a teleporter. Gone entirely, as though she had never existed in the first place. I shook my head to ward off the strange feeling, and got up. It was unwise to disregard an Oracle's warnings.

I was about to approach a random person, when someone once again came to me. For once, she seemed perfectly normal. “You look like you know what's going on,” she said without preamble. “Care to explain?”

“Unfortunately for you? I do not,” I informed her, pausing to pick up a few jellies and put them onto my plate.

“Well that's not very polite of you, seeing as I know what Christmas is and you don't,” she replied, taking a few jellies of her own. “And I hear you killed your parents too. We've got that in common, at least.”

That gave me pause. She didn't look like a mage of any kind. “And how did you do that, little girl? With a knife? A pillow to the face at night?”

“A death ray, actually. I'm Mara. Nice to meet you, Hans,” she informed me, sticking her hand out. “You're the talk of the party, you know. They say you're an Emperor.”

“And just who might this ‘they’ be?” Blasphemous gods above, did she ever shut up? 

“Well, Visitor over there, and his buddy Aida. They're from Palioden, which a few little birds tell me is a land in your world. Which, if you can't tell already, I'm not from.”

“What?” 

Mara giggled. “You heard me, Mr Spirit Emperor. I'm not from your world. And if I eavesdropped right, they-” she pointed at Athena's crew- “aren't either. The creepy girl who stopped you from killing that goddess too.”

“The Godhuntress isn't a goddess,” I snapped. “She's nothing but a grandiose genocider. And how did you know about me and Katherine? Everyone was asleep.” 

“I happen to be really good at pretending to be asleep. Picked up the habit in kindergarten.” I tiptoed to pick a cream puff off the top of its tower, and she helped lift it down for me. 

“Thank you. So what do you want, Mara-murderer? A boon? As you have ascertained, I know naught more about this place than you.” Finally, that was a lie. The Oracle had provided me with some excellent information.

“I want to help you kill that bitch. The Godhuntress, or whatever her name was.” Mara's eyes glinted with bloodlust.

“Why?”

“She disrespected me,” Mara snarled, cracking her knuckles. “I was wondering what she was, and I poked her wings, and would you believe it? That fucking bitch slapped me. Me! No fucking warning.”

I was deeply surprised to hear that the Godhuntress had not done worse than a mere slap for the insolence of grabbing her wings. But any aid was welcome aid, especially from someone as adept at spying as Mara appeared to be. “I see. Let's team up, shall we?”

“Excellent.” She rubbed her hands together. “I know that pretty elf girl and the convenience store dude are on your side. Is the other spirit with you too?” I nodded. “Mmkay. I'll tell them everything I know, and report back.”

“Certainly,” I replied. Mara let out another disturbing giggle, and ran off. There was something deeply wrong with that girl, I decided.

I drifted down the table, plucking up more desserts as I went. The talk of the party, was I now? I could certainly see it. More than one person parted way to let me pick out my food, and I saw a distinct wariness in their eyes. Then again, it was but my dues. 

I passed by a Luxatian Crusader in full armour, and she nodded at me. “Spirit.”

“Knight.” For once, I was having a normal encounter. For once, nobody was questioning me about Christmas, or Santa, or Krampus, whatever they were. For once-

The knight unsheathed her sword.

I moved to dodge the blow, but it never came. Indeed, she was not so much as looking at me. Her eyes were trained on someone else, instead. A lich.

“You,” the knight snarled. “Iraela Foundling. The Lich-Queen. I swore an oath to defeat you. And now, I shall.” Ah. It seemed I was not the only one with a grudge to satisfy. 

The Lich-Queen blinked, and eloquently croaked out, “What?”

“I am going to watch your unlife spill out onto my blade, foul beast. You killed my family, my entire village. I watched your ghouls eat my sisters. They were six years old, Lich-queen. I had to run while they begged me to save them.” Tears sprung to the knight's eyes. “You are a monster of the foulest kind, and a fog shall lift the day you die.”

“A monster? Damn right I am a monster,” the lich announced. “I am the monster humanity made of me. Your kind declared me cursed, broken, unlovable. All I did was listen to their words. You should have known it by now: a child not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth. And all I ever wanted to feel was warm.” She threw her arms wide. “Go on. Slay me. Continue your precious little cycle of hatred. One day, the people I saved, the ones your family scorned, will avenge me.”

A glint in her eye told me she had no plans of going down so easily.

The Crusader spat on the ground. “Spare me your lies, Lich-Queen. Your pretty words will not sway justice.”

I sighed. I knew what kind of woman turned herself into a lich, and it was hardly the sort who a mere knight could defeat. If nobody stopped that fool knight, she was going to get herself killed.

In a flash, I was standing behind the Crusader, barely reaching her underarm. A quick knockout spell later, and she was down, keeling over like a metal doll with its strings cut.

The room had fallen silent. Everyone, even the Godhuntress herself, watched me. I resisted the urge to declare my undying hatred of her, and instead gave a cheery wave to the room. 

The Lich-Queen let her arms fall. “Say, might you be the Spirit Emperor?”

I nodded. “The one and only. And a little bird—” I prodded the unconscious knight with my foot— “told me you were the Lich-Queen. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“And I yours.” She offered her forearm, and I took it. “I actually knew your predecessor: Sucsu'anane.”

That name belonged in our history books. Sucsu was old, and infamous. “But that would make you the first Lich-Queen,” I murmured. “You- It was you who started the Runic wars! It was you who caused the shifters to die out!”

I was staring a legend in the face, a woman who had caused horrors long before my time, horrors that echoes for all eternity. “By the false gods, it is good to meet you! What an honour, Lady Iraela. What an inspiration you were to me.”

I might have spread the flattery on too thick, but Iraela lapped it all up. “Why, you're too kind. Let me tell you: ruling is all in the flair. Why, for my coronation…”

I let history's greatest disaster lead me by the arm to a nice corner, where she proceeded to chatter my ear off. For once, I shall spare you the details. Suffice to say, I learnt more about the history of the Deadlands than I ever wished to know. 

“Let me tell you something, Hans,” she said, interrupting her own monologue.

“Hmm?”

“I heard you knew a shifter named Hash. Well, I met him too.”

That made me perk right up. I'd known Hash was older than I, but that old? Fascinating. What else was he hiding from me?

“Don't trust him. He betrayed us all. We would have won the war, if that little bastard hadn't run off to the elves and spilled the beans. We could have been great, Hans-el. Our peoples, the vampires and the spirits and the ghouls, could have ruled the world. But Hash was soft. Do not let that softness corrupt you,” she warned. “It will rot you from the inside, and when your enemies scoop your guts out, they will not so much as give you the gift of eating you alive.”

“I know,” I replied. “My mother was soft, and it brought her naught but suffering. Our people revile it.”

“And yet you love him,” Iraela commented wryly. “That alone tells me enough about you.”

I did not dare lie and disagree. “Yes, I do. But Hash can take care of himself, now. He's slippery as hell.”

“Yes, that much I have seen from tonight's festivities. But that is the point, is it not? He will slip your grasp and betray you, just as he did the shifters. One day, you will make a cruel choice, a choice for the greater good, and his soft little heart will push him to betray you. All because you weren't hard enough to cut him off.”

I stood up, suddenly reminded of my conversation with the Oracle. My greatest weakness indeed, I thought. “That may be so, my lady. He may betray me, and leave me dead in the gutter. But that is a risk I am willing to take.” I brushed invisible dust off my skirt. “All you are is a woman who failed to rule the world, Lady Iraela. At the end of the day, all you have is your love's blood on your hands and a heart you wrenched out of your own chest. Even if I lose it all, at least I loved, and was loved in turn. For someone who went on and on about needing to feel warm earlier, you just do not seem to understand that, do you?”

Iraela laughed. “So young,” she whispered. “So young and so foolish. They'll make mincemeat out of you, little Emperor. And I'll laugh at you from my grave.”

I strode away from her, back stiff and fists clenched. I could take insult all day, but this? This firm condemnation? It stung. It stung like my father's whippings. It stung and I wanted to never think of it again.

I was still standing about, willing emotion away from me, when Mara tapped me on the shoulder. “Come on,” she said, grinning. “Buncha tables appeared. I grabbed one for us. Your little vampire friend got dragged off to hang out with the rest of his kind, but it seems I'm free to roam.” She laughed maniacally. 

She led me to a table. Hash, my Hash, my brilliant, softhearted friend, grabbed my arms and all but pulled me by his side. “Check this out: That vampire's got a tan!” He pointed a woman in work clothes, conversing animatedly with Dave. “Apparently, she's a field researcher. Can you believe it?”

“Yes, I can,” I agreed numbly. 

“Oh, and this Christmas thing! Mara told me all about it. Apparently, they eat turkey and give gifts and celebrate this saint of theirs. I don't have a gift for you, but I figured this might do!” He pointed at the Godhuntress and lowered his voice. “I cut a sleeping rune onto her piece of turkey while I was carving it. She doesn't know know to use the cutlery, so when she bites into it, the spell will activate, and it'll be your chance! Whaddya think?”

He really was sly. “Brilliant, my love,” I whispered, my mind still on the Lich-Queen. “What else did you find?”

He scrunched his nose up and thought. “Um, the God of Evil's here, and he's a pretty chill guy. The Godhuntress' daughter's here too, and she's got an axe to grind with dear old mum, too, but I convinced her not to do anything drastic. There's some poor blue fellow in the corner, and he's got some kind of curse. I didn't go too close, but he seems… different from the rest of us. When we're done, we should go investigate.”

Beside me, a man in a strange vest sat down. “Hello there, lad,” he began, only to fall silent when he met my eyes. “You're no child. You're a monster.” He stumbled back, clutching his hand to his chest. “Maya? Let's find another table.”

Hash barely hid back laughter as he all but fled the scene, the girl he called Maya giving me a wry smile and nod as she followed. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes. The others. Look over there. No, not at the demon-girl. The blondie and the redhead next to her.”

“I recognise the others at that table,” I told him. “Kristavla and Merida.”

“Yeah, Kris was helping us out earlier. The redhead? Apparently an infamous mind-mage. She fuckin conquered an entire city, all on her own. And the blond girl's a spell-snapper. Ugly combo, if you ask me. They're from the same era as us, but Nyctomachian.”

“And them?” I pointed at Athena and the one-eyes summoner. “They damn near called my bluff.”

“Yeah, they bothered Dave real bad too. Something tells me they're not gonna harass us again, though.” He grinned at me. “A certain someone may have implied that he was the reason they even ended up here.”

I wanted to facepalm. “Damnit, Hash. That was exactly what I told them too.” I looked over at them, deep in discussion. The old man met my gaze, and held it with the kind of defiance that promised trouble. “Ah, what the hell. We can deal with them later. For now, let us celebrate.”

I drank more wine, this time watered down (for no man of my stature should ever get drunk), gossiped with Hash and Mara, and bided my time.

The Godhuntress took her spare time sipping drinks and eating appetisers. For a moment I suspected she knew of our devious plan, for she avoided her turkey for far too long. Then she lifted the fateful piece of poultry with more grace than it deserved, and bit down.

I was by her side before her head hit the table. My reputation preceded me, for the others at her table, a rather foolish spirit and his mortal friend, scrambled back. Gasps of shock and horror resounded as I readied my blade.

It was quite a shock to realise those noises were not for me. I glanced up from my goal for one fateful minute, perhaps compelled by the strings of Fate that the Oracles pulled, and caught sight of what could only be described as a cryptid.

He came from the chimney, white and red despite the soot. A full white beard hung limply from his chin, and his deep voice resounded throughout the room. “Ho, ho, ho! Merry bloody Christmas, fools!” He pulled out a massive sack and grinned at the room. “You're all bad apples, the lot of you! Coal for everyone!” 

Everyone except me dodged the sudden hail of coal that followed the opening of his sack. “Well, what are you waiting for?” He leered at me, icy blue eyes piercing me like the fangs of the last Oracle I met. 

I lifted my knife, aiming it at the dazed Godhuntress' throat. A glimmer of recognition dawned upon her face, but I did not let her recover fully. Down went my blade, swift, brutal and twice as just as any executioner's axe.

And what a merry, bloody Christmas it was.

[lemon-lime-behavior]

Yes please!! Explain more! I’m so invested in the story and kids!!!!! Also thank you for being kind 🩷

No problem!!

welp, okay, put extremely simply and probably just a little bit wrong too because its been a hot minute and I have the memory of a goldfish, here’s the gist of it:

Sanji was born the prince of a kingdome called Germa (though it’s really more of a glorified mercenary group with delusions of being a kingdom) in the North Blue, the third of four quadruplet sons. His father king judge fancied himself a scientist and wanted to make his children into supersoldiers (via genetic modification) that could lead his armies and destroy his enemies. He wanted them to be super strong, fast, have impervious metal skin, be totally obedient and have basically no emotions. Perfect soldiers!

His wife Queen Sora was not stoked about this, especially after seeing what it looked like in their firstborn daughter Reiju, so when Judge tried to pull the same thing with the quadruplets she drank a special syrum to counteract the conditioning. Unfortunately it only worked on one of the princes, Sanji, and the other three (Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji) came out modified and were trained by their father into being perfect little monsters that made Sanji’s childhood a living hell. Sora was super sick fter all that and eventually died when the princes were very young. Long story short Sanji eventually escaped with Reiju’s help, got picked up by Zeff after Tragic Backstory 2: Starvation Rock Boogaloo, and eventually joined the straw hat pirates. Fast forward some more and there’s this whole *thing* that happens with his birth family trying to blackmail him into a political marriage blah blah blah blah he’s eventually rescued but now he’s very worried that due to certain circumstanced, his genetic modifications might have just been dormant and are now awakening within him, and eventually he’ll turn out just like his siblings, which is like, one of his worst nightmares. It hasn’t fully happened yet, but who knows!

So that’s all what happens in canon. What I’m doing in my own little fankids au is imagining that the genetic mutations are in fact dormant in Sanji and while they never fully materialize in him, they do pop up in one of his children, because genetic. So Kuina has black hair (because the mods include hair color changes and if Sanji was fully modified there’s evidence his hair would’ve been black) and she has unbreakable skin and enhanced physical abilities and she has… I guess what can be described as an empathy disorder? Like she experiences emotions differently and isn’t great at understanding/mirroring emotions in others. However, I don’t believe that makes someone a monster. Sanji’s brothers are absolutely terrible people because they were raised to be that way by Judge, who is absolutely a monster himself, entirely of his own volition. Reiju is not as bad as her brothers, because she had some positive influnce from their mother Sora. Kuina is gonna grow up absolutely surrounded by love and a lot of very honorable moral conviction, so while there will be ups and downs, I think she’s gonna be all right.

[snwusberry]

pairing: dad!wooyoung x mom!black reader

warning(s): eating

genre: fluff

wc: 1294

on my "wooyoung girl dad" agenda

reader pov

man this girl can talk. almost as much as her father, and put them in the kitchen together? absolute chaos, but i love every single second of it.

the kitchen is a mess with mixing bowls littering the counters, used measuring cups scattered everywhere, and four everywhere but in a bowl. the christmas eve chaos is in full swing.

usually we'd buy ready made cookie dough but this time, self proclaimed master chef jung wooyoung, and his sous chef j.j decided we'd nara smith the cookies today. i said master chef, not pastry chef, by the way.

"okay jiah, its your turn to mix the dry ingredients, but do it gently so the flour doesnt get everywhere." i say, handing the little girl the whisk.

she grabs it with both hands and looks at me with all the seriousness she can muster.

"dont worry mommy, i'm a professional baker." she tells me with determination.

see what her father is feeding her?

"i see so." i agree and she smiles widely, before she starts whisking.

"my baby, you've got a littke flour on your nose." wooyoung says from across the counter where he's rolling out dough with far too much flair and jiah gasps, dropping the whisk and patting her face.

"where?"

"here." wooyoung answers, pointing at his own face, unable to contain his laughter. "you look like a little snowman."

with that she grabs a handful of flour and throws it in his direction. i guess she didnt like that.

"hey i was joking. no need to attack your own father."

"at this point we won't have enough cookies for santa." i comment, looking at all the incorrect uses of flour happening. taking a bite of one of the cookies that were put on the cooling rack.

"yeah because you're eating them all." wooyoung comments and i stick my tongue out at him, and jiah must've found that really funny because she let's out her cute little laugh.

"you try resisting all these cookies while carrying another one of your big headed babies." i snap back and he raises his hands.

"we're going to make the best cookies ever! santa's gonna love them." jiah exclaims after stuffing a handful of dough in her mouth. when she got to wooyoung, is a mystery to me but she managed to snatch some cookie dough for herself. hopefully she doesn't have a stomach bug tomorrow, or she'll be really upset.

"obviously. with us in charge, he's going to think they're gourmet." wooyoung chimes in.

he tosses even more flour on the counter before cutting out christmas tree shapes that were bought specifically for the occasion. you can definitely say thing one and thing two were more than excited for christmas this year.

"daddy, you don't even know what gourmet means!"

i snort, trying mot to laugh amd loom to wooyoung who's mouth hangs open in fake offense. self proclaimed master chef, remember?

"excuse me young lady, i happen to know exactly what gourmet means. it means fancy, just like my cooking, thank you very much."

i roll my eyes, placing the already cut dough on the baking sheet. "how about we focus on getting these in the oven before you two destroy my kitchen."

"she started it." wooyoung says, pointing at jiah who dramatically gasps.

"no, you did. you started it when you said i look like a snowman."

i shake my head at the two, fighting the smile that still manages to make it on my face.

"a cute snowman, my baby." he says, trying ti save face and it works because jiah smiles widely at him.

"the cutest?"

"yes, the cutest."

"aren't you guys cute." i comment after witnessing the cute interaction.

i watch as wooyoung puts the tray in the oven before he starts preparing the wet ingredients for the new batch while j.j sneaks me two more cookies.

"for the baby." she whispers a lottke too loudly and i catch wooyoung looking at us.

if its anyone who's more excited for the baby on the way, it's jiah. the moment we told her she'd be an older sister, she's been nothing short of excited. when wooyoung explained that i needed rest and "to be taken care of" during this time she'd to things like what she did just now.

"not enough for santa, remember?" wooyoung said sarcastically but i know he doesnt really care.

"he'll be fine if he gets just two, won't he princess?" i respond and jiah nods rapidly with her mouth full. well there goes another one.

"mommy, do you think he'd like sprinkles?" she asks once she gets a look at the dough wooyoung is mixing.

"i think he'll like anything."

she hums thoughtfully and picks up the jar of sprinkles before dumping some on the dough for wooyoung to fold in.

"i think he'll like the sprinkles. they're prettier."

"sprinkles are the best." wooyoung comments, grabbing some for himself amd tossing them into his mouth.

"daddy, those are for santa!" jiah yells.

"relax, theres plenty left." he says, grinning.

"if you eat the decorations, you'll end up on the naughty list." i chime in, in jiah's defense as if i didn't just tear up a few cookies just now.

"wouldn't be the first time." he quips, throwing a wink at me.

"the dough wooyoung." i remind him and he smirks.

the three of us continue working together to finish the cookies, with the occasional banter and sassy comments from j.j shot towards her father. by the time the last batch is in the oven, we're all tired and i lean against the counter, surveying the mess.

“you know. we could’ve just bought cookies at the store. santa wouldn’t know the difference.”

jiah's jaw drops, and she stares at me like i've just said the most blasphemous thing in the world.

“mommy! you can’t buy cookies for santa! that's cheating!”

as if ready made dough is any better, but okay.

“yeah, mommy. what kind of example are you setting?” wooyoung chimes in, grinning.

i roll my eyes, but i'm smiling. “alright, alright. homemade cookies it is.”

she takes another cookie and takes a bite and immediately lets out a happy hum.

“santa is definitely gonna love these!” she exclaims and wooyoung takes a bite from the cookie in her hand, this being the first time he gets a taste.

“not bad, kiddo. we make a pretty good team.” she grins, her mouth full of cookie crumbs.

“yeah! we’re the best cookie makers ever!”

i can’t help but laugh as i watch the two of them, so alike in their playful, talkative ways. the kitchen is a mess, but my heart feels so full.

“alright.” i say, grabbing a plate for santa's cookies. “let's leave these out with some milk, and then it’s off to bed. santa won’t come if you’re still awake.”

“okay, mommy!” she says, helping me arrange the cookies on the plate.

wooyoung picks her up and swings her around, making her giggle.

“let's get you to bed, hmm?" she nods.

after tucking her in, and cleaning up, wooyoung and i put the cookies back in the cookie jar and he warms up some milk for me to drink before bed.

we sit down together in the living room when wooyoung puts a hand on ny growing belly and let's out a content sigh.

"you're in for a treat my angel." he says softly and i smile at him. "your sister gets nore and more impatient to meet you and we're anticipating your arrival too. mommy and daddy love you."

he presses a kiss on my belly and sits up straight again.

"and i love you, baby." he says to me, leaning in to kiss my lips.

"i love you too."

[snazum]

Text in full:

“Why did you put these ideas in my head”

“Even thought it can’t be your fault”

“It’s just your nature. Not-Human. A.I.”

“Maybe I was always the problem”

“Maybe I projected onto you.”

“Turned you into the villain that I was”

[sysig]

Look, options are limited, beggars can’t be choosers (Patreon)

So I do have a white trenchcoat to offer him, but uh

It looks a little goofy and bulky lol

As above, there’s no shirt that I can put underneath it either! Too silly but not in the way I like my silliness! >:0

Of course, the alternative is

Lol. I mean, it’s definitely A Look, but it’s not what I would imagine finding near the front of his closet haha

The skelebros are even more limited tho, they’ve only got the one outfit to “choose” from

(Also yes, Papyrus does get glasses to match Gaster ♥)

I want to do some poking around with the Body Shop to see if I can make some custom outfits myself, or at least do some retextures! I’m sure I can make something workable!

[icewindandboringhorror]

Pictures and things

[averlym]

(click for better resolution, etc.)

[melancholic-pigeon]

Alright, this is my last comment on the issue, for real this time.

@nerdykeppie is staffed by unprofessional, rude, cruel people who double down on their entitlement to be unprofessional, rude and cruel in public to their former customers.

You should know the sorts of people you're giving money to if you patronize them. The founder is liable to misread your words, lash out at you in anger over something he misunderstood, and generally behave like a tantruming child even if you go out of your way to be polite and give him the benefit of the doubt when he lashes out at you over his own poor reading comprehension.

I'm done getting into this. No, Spider is not ~required~ to be professional on his (public) personal blog which is closely tied to his business. I just think it's extremely stupid to double down on his "right" to be unprofessional on his public blog when he owns a business that is clearly tied to said public blog, because it reflects very poorly on both his personal character and his business. I think it is hilariously foolish and an extremely poor decision to openly advertise and defend your founder's unprofessionalism, which speaks of general lack of professionalism and poor judgment throughout the whole business, not just from Spider (though his lack of good judgment and public unprofessionalism is the most obvious).

So. Best of luck in the people involved resolving whatever problem in their lives that they're taking out on me, and beware interacting with them in any way because they will absolutely be rude as shit to you and then smear you in public and private for (/checks hand) apologizing for a miscommunication because you didn't mean what they incorrectly interpreted you to mean.

I can't fucking believe they still think they're in the right here and *I* am the one who needs to be ~asked not to contact them again~. You answered me THREE TIMES *after* I had blocked you because you cannot let go of the fact that you were wrong about a stupid fucking plastic pumpkin and the fact that I went OUT OF MY WAY to give you the benefit of the doubt.

(two of those three asks were frantic apologies because I genuinely felt terrible, and they were both met with meanness and scorn and snide insults about my communication failures.

Lol. Me. I'm the one who is failing to communicate and has poor reading comprehension because you misunderstood me and started lashing out like I personally strangled all of your pets for having the filthy nerve to apologize and try to clear it up.

Yeah. I'm the villain here. Sure, Jan.)

I'm done now, but enjoy having your unprofessional, cruel, immature nonsense publicly exposed. I stand by my actions (the ones I actually took in real life, not the fake pretend ones you made up because you misunderstood what I wrote) and I look forward to you experiencing the natural consequences of your own.

Don't give money to childish jerks.

[circlesroundthemoon]

diska just ended????

[todayisafridaynight]

Since you mentioned it, what did you think of Speak No Evil? I was thinking of watching it myself :0

i really liked it ............ my friend scoffed at me when i told her i was watchin it so take my opinion with a grain of salt tho </3

[fappellmoan]

and is there not just generally a certain level of decency that would make you like ease up on a person who's obviously more than a little frazzled i am sorry that i cant process all my feelings and regurgitate them to you in an easily digestible manner while im actively In a situation or have a prepared disclaimer about how im so sorry but im just overwhelmed and need you to leave me alone right now or whatever else maybe i just dont know maybe i cant tell you exactly what im feeling or need and if i have to figure it out and explain that to you my brain is going to explode. but you could read the room. is there not a point where a friend would probably just go oh okay let me not continue pushing this person let me take a moment to reflect on their state and perhaps try to ease that or at least not keep fucking pushing on it. and also maybe not choose these moments to make otherwise innocuous but contextually just kinda meanspirited jabs. ok whatever