#anybody wanna send pole??

[thew0rsethingsgettheharderifight]

UHMM

[ipso-faculty]

Today's rabbithole: the origins of "dyadic" as opposite of intersex/h-word

TLDR: "dyadic" seems to come from 1970s radical feminism and seems to have entered intersex vocabulary via gender studies. This implies it is NOT a term coined from within the intersex community.

I've been reading Cripping Intersex since it's this month's pick for @intersexbookclub (and it's not too late for you to pick it up yourself! 💜). One thing that caught my attention is Orr spends a bunch of time presenting the origins of "endosex" and "perisex" as disputed for whether these terms were coined by intersex people or not.

Orr does this because they clearly prefer "dyadic" and are trying to justify why they're talking about "compulsory dyadism" rather than "compulsory endonormativity/perinormativity" etc. 🤨

Interestingly enough, Orr makes absolutely zero attempt in the book to find an origin for the word "dyadic". 🧐 Orr also never questions whether the term "dyadic" actually came from the intersex community. 🧐 So..... rabbit hole time!

Before I get into what I found on dyadic, I wanna quickly fact check Orr on the origin of endosex. Best as I can tell, the term was first used in German in 2000 by Heike Bödeker. Bödeker is controversial for supporting autogynephilia 😬, but I've never seen anybody doubt Bödeker having mixed gonadal dysgenesis. If anybody knows of an older use of endosex, please send it my way! But as far as I can tell, "endosex" was coined by an intersex person.

Okay, onto the origin of dyadic. Orr presents this word as though its only detractors come from its implication there is a sex binary, even though as @intersex-ionality discusses here there are other reasons people don't like it. One reason is that the term is considered to originate from outside the intersex community.

Orr never questions the origins of dyadic. But intersex-ionality's post got me wondering if I could track down an textual origin.

So I went to Google Scholar, searched for "dyad" or "dyadic" plus "intersex" or the h-word and kept changing the time period increasingly far back in time. (Initially I just used intersex until I remembered the h-word slur would be more common in older articles 😬.)

I went into this thinking maybe dyadic would be related to how in early intersex studies literature like Critical Intersex (2009) you can see authors trying out terms like "dimorphic" and "dimorphous" that reference sexual dimorphism. (Neither "dyadic" nor "endosex" show up in the book.)

But the earliest works by intersex scholars that invoke dyadic tend to use it in a way that implies to me it has its own origin - e.g. Malatino (2010) talks about "at one pole, the dyad of the dimorphic heterosexual couple and, at the other, the hermaphroditic body" and "the heteronormative promised land of proper dyadic, dimorphic sex" which gives me the impression dyadic has a more sociological origin rather than the biology origin of dimorphic.

This 2010 gender studies article by Mandy Merck that talks about the intersex rights movement was my first solid lead. Merck draws a direct connection between the intersex rights movement and the 1970 book The Dialectic of Sex by Shulamith Firestone. 😯

In the book, Firestone explicitly talks about the "male-female dyad". This book had a fairly big impact when it came out. Firestone was a big-name second-wave radical feminist. And as Merck puts it: "[Firestone's] aim is to release women and men from the culturally gendered[5] dyad of the “subjective, intuitive, introverted, wishful, dreamy or fantastic” and the “objective, logical, extroverted, realistic”[6] into a society undivided by genital differences. This she calls “integration.”" (emphasis mine)

Pushing the search terms to before the 00s, I found I there were some 1980s botanists kinda using "dyad" as an opposite to "hermaphrodite" (example). I don't know how standard this was though, and with Google Scholar it is important to remember that digitization becomes less common the further back you go. 🤷‍♀️

Judith Butler used "dyadic" in a 1985 article about Foucault's Herculine Barbin.

The Butler article got me searching for more generally - "dyad" or "dyadic" plus "sex-roles male female". I found lots of results using dyadic to talk about female/male sex roles from the 1970s.... and a rather sudden paucity of such articles in the 1960s. 🤔

When I restricted the search to anything before 1970, I get results from symbolic interactionist sociology. I.e. the sociology use of "dyadic" (i.e. any social interaction happening between a pair of individuals).

So looks like dyadic as a sex role thing entered the academic lexicon in the early 70s. Which lines up pretty damn well with The Dialectic of Sex coming out in 1970. 👍️ And indeed, many of the 70s uses of "dyadic" explicitly cite Firestone.

I'm guessing Firestone was probably influenced by the interactionist term. Lots of sociologists were talking about dyadic relationships and/or interactions such as teacher-student, parent-child, husband-wife, etc. In this context, it's not surprising that Firestone would pick dyad as a term to talk about male-female sex roles and interactions.

Other than the 1980s botany articles I didn't actually find much from the pre-2000 biology world, and no leads from the medical literature. This doesn't mean "dyadic" wasn't being used by physicans, just that it isn't showing up in my searches on Google Scholar.

I'm coming out of this with the impression that Merck's got it right to be connecting the intersex-related use of dyadic as originating from the writing of Shulamith Firestone. If anybody knows of competing evidence for an origin, *please* do send it my way as I'd be super interested. But in the absence of other evidence, I'd tentatively say that the term dyadic came out of second wave radical feminism and *not* the intersex community.

[kadeeesworld]

War of hearts

Chapter 1: MIA

I just wanna say I don’t much like this maybe it’s because it the first chapter or whatever who cares it’s proofread but not really enjoy!

Also it’s my first time writing for COD and I know some people are much better at writing their accents but I’m so American it’s painful so stick with me here!

Okay and trigger warning I suppose: mentions of drugs, and abuse, mentions of a gun and kidnapping, child abuse and rape.

the task force was in the middle of a briefing Laswell breaking down the facts for them as everyone got a vanilla envelope.

“She’s a 16 year old girl highly trained and she’s escaped”

“Escaped? Escaped from where?”

John spoke up his brows furrowing as he took in the little bit of Information they had of the girl.

“A top secret facility buried deep in Russia, they kidnap young girls and boys train them into killing machines and send them out onto battlefields with our soldiers just to have them killed.”

Gaz looked around the table.

“How’s she only 16 though—“

“She was taken at 10 actually from the states right out of her front yard.”

Ghost flips the folder closed and tossed it to the middle of the table

“Bloody fucking ‘el as if we don’t have enough going on now little brats are being snatched?”

“She’s not a brat anymore, shes dangerous and she’s trained almost as well as you guys be careful.”

“She’s just a girl how hard could it be?”

The team suits up and gets ready to get on a flight to the states it was going to be a long 8 hours.

“Remember lads this isn’t a vacation this is a mission treat it as such, we get in we get this girl and we bring er’ home.”

“What if she doesn’t wanna go?”

“She doesn’t have a choice.”

A few days pass.

“Who’d ave thought that finding one bird would be this hard we haven’t heard or seen anything.”

“Speak for yourself mate I’ve heard about this underground club where the company is exceptionally young, think our girl could be there?”

“Wouldn’t doubt it Kate did say she was only 16 and we haven’t found her yet it might be worth a shot.”

After a 45 minute drive to a part of town that seems all to sketchy they walk down into an alleyway and bang on the door the eye hole slides open and a man with a nasty scar over his face peeks through and then open the door and the file in.

Once inside it looks just like a normal club expect for the fact that only girls younger than 19 are the ones on poles and serving drinks it’s disgusting and quite frankly sad.

“This is beyond fucked up.”

“I know lad but it’s part of the job, let’s look around for our girl yeah?”

They break off and find places to sit they make conversation and eavesdrop on discussions all for it to amount to the owner has some of his specialty girls in the back they cost pretty penny though.

With a nod to the others price heads off to the shiny leather door and the back and knocks on it another eye hole opens

“The fuck do you want?”

“We’re er’ about uh your specialty girls.”

The man smiles it’s sick makes your skin crawl.

“Of course gentlemen,” he opens the door wide for them, “right this way.”

They all file in and sit down on a plush leather couch the girls scattered about the room and each of them takes them in

“Aren’t they beauties? I paid good money for them these are the youngest ones I have…”

John speaks up

“Have you got anybody new…maybe someone you’ve got recently I’d prefer…well we’d prefer someone fresh if you don’t mind.”

The man’s face lights up

“Oh of course of course only the finest! For my new guests and you can call me jimmy by the way.”

He holds out his hand to John and John shakes it with a faux smile.

“Price.”

“Right, I’ll be right back.”

Jimmy steps away and walks further into the back room coming back with a girl her hair was matted and he body covered in dark bruises some lighter and in different stages of healing and on her arms multiple needle marks her veins are definitely shot, the icing on the cake though was the way she seemed completely out of it her eyes glazed over looking off into space the looked so hollow…so empty.

“This is the latest that we have, picked her up a while ago I just saw her walking the streets it’s was late one night and I just knew I had to have her. I had to know what she smelled like, what she tasted like and let me say she didn’t disappoint.”

He pulled her down onto the couch by her arm and into his chest petting the back of her head and cooing at her.

The boys looking at her could tell this is the girl they’d been looking for but she certainly wasn’t the trained girl Laswell had spoken of…

Jimmy got up and walked around the large glass table and sat her down on prices Lap.

“She’s good right? You like her, all of you?”

Price looked into her face and a just for a moment sympathy and pain was etched into his face and his eyes told everything he couldn’t say in that moment ‘I’m sorry this is happening to you’

Price turned his head back to Jimmy

“She’s perfect…”

“Great! Now it’s 10 an hour!”

Soap looked almost surprised.

“Dollars?”

Jimmy spoke up with a joker like grin.

“No mohawk man, grand!”

John spoke up again before anybody could make a fool out of themselves.

“That’s fine we’ll take er…”

“Yes, she’s new hasn’t been with anybody but me yet she’s still fresh now if you’d like I could bring you another girl that would drop you down to about 5 grand an hour.”

Jimmy spoke as if they were conducting to most regular business transaction in the world he spoke as if he didn’t just bring out a 17 year old girl to four grown men knowing that if these weren’t good men she’d probably be getting fucked and all other manner of things.

“I don’t think so mate.”

“Mate? Well aren’t you funny sounding, where’d you say you’re from again you don’t sound American…”

“We didn’t say…”

“Right of course…”

Jimmy looked as if he’d just seen a ghost and deep down it’s almost as if he knew he was caught and it was only a matter of time—-

Jimmy hopped up flipping the table towards them and making a run for the leather door they had just come in soap being the closest hopped up after him tackling him to the ground they got what they came for na snow it was time to call it in and get authorities and ambulance here to help the girls.

While gaz and Simon did crowd control of the rest of the club ensuring nobody got away so they would be able the face what they’re down the way they deserve John sat with the girl in his lap he’d wrapped her up in a blanket and he held her.

“You know lovie we don’t even know your name…you didn’t have one on file it was almost as if you’d been completely erased from existence…even when we looked back to when you were taken and reported missing, nothing. It’s almost as if someone wanted to hide you away from the world forever.”

Simon tapped on the door

“Ey’ cap the coppers and medics are here, let’s get her situated yeah?”

Price looked back down at her and sighed

“Yeah.”

About a week passed and finally she’d woken up came out her drugged state and she was clear now the boys didn’t know what that would mean for them but for now all anyone else was worried about was the fact that she wouldn’t eat or drink anything she’s just lay there…

“I really am worried about her gentlemen, she hasn’t spoken a word or eaten a thing she’s losing what little weight she had and she keeps muttering something I can’t understand. I don’t know what’s going on or what was happening to all those girls in there but if this keeps up we’ll have to sedate her and push a tube down her throat to make sure she doesn’t die.”

Well that wasn’t fucking good.

“We’ll see about er’ ma’am thanks for the report.”

“Sure thing.”

The nurse walks back behind her station and the boys face her hospital room and walk in there’s one of the standing table trays over her legs a plate of food on top completely untouched and she eyed them when they walked In like predator does prey once they’ve decided you’re who they want for dinner.

“Hey there…heard you weren’t eating a thing lovie…why’s that?”

Silence.

John just smiled at her and tried again.

“I know it’s shit bird but you’ve got to eat somethin it’s not healthy for you to starve like this, we need you healthy so we can take you back—“

Before he could even finish she up holding her fork to his eye trying To push in further down she’s is pretty strong but without eating for days price easily overpowered her pinning her down to the bed and she lost it. Screaming. Yelling. Kicking and scratching. The nurses rushed in and sedated her and slowly she calmed down her hands gripping onto John shirt before she fell unconscious.

It was hours later when she had woken up and her room was empty she sat up and threw the covers off of her sitting for a moment to gather herself before pushing off the bed and walking over to her window there was a single nurse behind the station and the men seem to have gone.

She quickly slipped out of her room and down a hall but before she could turn a corner soap and gas were standing in front of the vending machine staring at her and she right back at them. Nothing was said she just bolted and had and soap were hot on her tail yelling after her, she cut corners and pushed people down and out of the way to put distance between them and finally she caught a break and slipped under a sheet what was on a gurney after a moment or two she heard them run past but she kept still after a moment or two the gurney started to move and when it finally stopped she was in the basement morgue the room was empty safe for a few black body bags.

She got up off the gurney and started looking around for anything she could use to help her get out of there after a bit of searching she found a clear bag with a name on it something she couldn’t quite understand and inside was a gray hoodie and back jeans and a dirty pair of sneakers a wallet, a bus card and a photo of people she didn’t know must be the family of the deceased.

The hoodie had blood splatters and the so did the sneakers but clothes were clothes and this isn’t fashion week. She found a rag and wet it scrubbing the blood off best she could as to not stand out she didn’t need anyone stopping her asking if she was okay she just needed to get away from the hospital but first she needed a weapon.

She used the stairs to get back on the patient floor looking for anything when she was passing a room she overheard a doctor talking about a patient needing sedation in a nearby room and telling a nurse to get everything ready she watched the nurse ready the tray and take it into room setting it down before she left again to go get gloves with quick precision she slipped into the room grabbing the syringe and getting out after roaming the halls for a bit longer she found exactly what she was looking for. Security and because this is America of course he had a gun.

She backed into a room finding a medical waste bin and sticking her hand in to cover it in blood making sure to not wet her sleeve before pulling it back down and walking out she started up the the harsh hospital lights until her eyes started to burn and water then she walked over to the guard.

“Sir could you help me please my friend she’s a patient here and she passed out in the bathroom I think she hit her head she’s bleeding!”

She pulled him into the nearby women’s bathroom and once he rushed down to the other end with his back turned she stabbed the syringe into his neck pushing all the milky liquid into him before snatching it back out and watching him fall helplessly to the ground once his eyes shut she reached his body grabbing his gun and slipping it into the back of her pants before grabbing his wallet and taking out over $50 bucks shoving it into her pocket before heading back down to the basement it would be the easiest way to get onto the street without walking back through the entire hospital and risk being caught.

Once she got out, an open exit though the ambulance bay she stepped onto the just New York street finally breathing some fresh air but that didn’t last long before she knew it she heard a familiar British accent her eyes snapped open and there they were running after her, she ran right through the oncoming traffic dodging cars and running the sidewalk till she came across a lone man about to get out of his car she pulled the gun from her pants and pointed it at him.

“Woah! Lady what the fuck!”

“Give me your fucking keys and your wallet right now!”

The man tossed his keys and his wallet her feet and move she picked them up she hit him with the butt of her gun and sped off. Once price and the others finally caught up all they saw was her burning rubber hitting a corner and a man with his forehead split open.

“Clever girl she is…”

“Bloody fucking fast too, I don’t even run like that in PT!”

Gas grunted before hunching over his hands on his knees trying to clam his breathing.

“I guess Laswell was tellin nae lies bout’ the bonnie lass she’s quick.”

“Lots of stamina still for someone who wasn’t eaten in days she must be starving by now.”

“She is, that’s where she’ll head next.”

After some terrible driving and almost killing two civilians she finally parks the stolen car in an alleyway two blocks away from a Waffle House and she gets out she finds another parked car by the side of the road and steals the tag off it and switching them out before heading to eat she was in fact starving so much so it hurt.

Once she got in she seated herself and a waitress brought her a menu. She smiled so sweetly down at her.

“Do you have any idea what you might want?”

“What can fifty bucks buy me?”

“Oh! Well…”

A pile of plates later, and the cook and waitress watching her eat like an animal with her hands she had finished wiping off her face with her sleeve and wiping her hands on her pants and left the bill on the table and walked out, she walked the two blocks back to her stolen car and slid into the back laying down on the seat.

The rain came down hard hitting the roof of the car like pellets it kept her up she couldn’t sleep she just looked out of the window watching the raindrops race and how the city lights shined through as of giver her, her own private show of color.

The solitude though was short lived and she was napped out of her trance by a knock at the window it’s them.

“Alright now lovie that’s enough running for now right? You come with us you won’t have to sleep in a cold car tonight.”

Soap pushed past pulling the door open.

“Ye know for someone whose name we don even know you’ve given us hell since we’ve gotten ye!”

[hebezunet]

also, since i am... 100% certain that the chip twitters aren't coming back, i wanna take a few minutes to talk about my experience as a mod for one of the characters (since i doubt it's any surprise that I was one lol)

firstly, i'm not revealing anybodys identities here other than my own, because everyone has fully moved on from the project and don't wanna be assocciated in any way with it anymore. i'm making this post mostly for myself and maybe 2 other people so even if you have inklings of who the other mods are, don't look for them. they will not be happy

with that out of the way-

if it wasn't supremely god damn obvious by this point, i was the most recent mod for bert. from like... what, may 2020? that whole big arc where he got out of the bertputer, that's when i started. definitely a lot of weight on my shoulders with that one.

despite how much i had fun writing for bert though... this whole project was really a nightmare from beginning to end behind the scenes. before we (the new team) could even start actually posting and writing stuff, there was a whole kerfuffle getting the keys (account log in info) from the old team. had to even get david involved for a few things, which we really hated doing just cuz we didn't like bothering him. the old team was also... well, its own thing. i've kinda blocked out most of what happened regarding that but what i do know was that it was very mentally taxing trying to get rid of the old guys and get us logged into the new accounts.

people also certainly had... mixed feelings about the direction we tried to take things in. we were handed a story that was already extremely jacked up with its own weird baggage attached and had to make do with what we could. the story beats set up by the previous team were really hard to work with and we genuinely just did not agree with some of the characterization that was happening. namely bert and otto, they were... something. so, we tried our best to work with it and find justifications or explainations for certain behaviors and actions. i do know for a fact that there were people that did not like what we did with bert, especially. remember seeing stuff saying that we 'aged up' bert for the sole purpose of shipping him with rotten which... is not at all what happened. he was already a grown up character, in his late teens or early 20s, but the previous team had infantilized him to such a degree and for so long that that was just what people knew. we ended up justifying this by basically diagnosing bert with trauma induced age regression. it's a little complicated and a little fuzzy to recall, but that's the intention we were going with, at least.

we did originally have bigger plans for these characters and their arcs and everything, but the team was losing interest and everything surrounding it was genuinely sending some of us into mental crisis. it made us all distance ourselves really far from the project and not wanting to touch chipspeech as a whole with a 10 ft pole. a lot of this stemmed from the sovereign station server too, it was fine like 80% of the time, but shit got weird in there. if you weren't in there then like, good. you've saved yourself the headache. but overall, pretty much everyone has moved on and is doing their own thing now. there's been a few mods that I don't talk to anymore due to other circumstances, but I'm still good friends with a handful of them. they're doing much better now, too.

long story short, the characters just... aren't gonna be coming back, as far as I can tell. it's been pretty obvious due to the 2+ years of radio silence, but just to put the nail in the coffin. i still believe that the twitters are a great springboard for your own interpretations, and that's kind of another reason why we stopped. these characters can honestly be whatever the hell you want them to be. making a rigid sort of canon to apply to them is a little silly, especially when it's a bunch of young adults roleplaying that canon on twitter dot com. do whatever you want. it was a fun enough ride while it lasted.

that being said though, i personally still hold chip near and dear to me. strong interest has definitely faded, but i still like making covers occasionally and drawing the guys and silly stuff like that. i have a lot of myself to thank for chipspeech, and that's not changing, despite the horrors that we faced. thanks for reading all this if you did lol.

and bert is best boy im DYING ON THIS HILL!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[cwarscars]

Hey bro i heard you like 🔥 so c'maaan gimmie your salt maaaan

Send me a “ 🔥 “ for an unpopular opinion.

(( gonna preface this by saying - if any of my moot moots are one side or the other, or consider themselves such - i got no beef with you. you're my homies, my real ones, my ride or dies; im open-minded to hearing your opinions. jus' dont send me any anon nastiness, ill cry REAL tears ))

honestly? i can't stand the black and white thinking in the rpc & fanfic communities as a whole. the whole pro-shipper/anti-shipper debate is extremely tiresome to apparently anyone who believes in nuance & grey situations.

like, on one side - you have people who will and do persecute people for the fucked up ships that they write. on the other, you have people who preach fiction is fiction and will willingly ignore the genuinly problematic people who take advantage of the notion of 'pro-shipping' in order to write their extreme fetishes ( ala, pedophilia / beastiality ).

i have always been anti-censorship. i always will be. i watch extreme cinema and read extreme manga / comics. nothing phases me. there are films that disturb me ( salo will /always/ make my uncomfy ) and obviously things i wont touch with a ten foot barge pole ( anything with kids / animals ) but for the most part, i'm very chill when it comes to what people want to write. i believe people should be honest about their kinks, preferences and things they wish to write.

if your partner is willing, it's consensual and tagged or under a read more. i have zero issues with it. but -

i have gotten sent hate before from 'pro-shippers' for stating my stance on anybody who wants to write smut with kids. literal hate for stating i'm against pedophilia. ( and im not talking about a 17 yr old being sexually active, im talking, like - literal children being sexualised ) like, what? i've been called purity police and all kinds of shit. like, me? purity police???? the bitch whose favourite comic is crossed and favourite manga, ichi the killer. LOL

my whole issue with the debate and the censorship / arguments in the rpc is that, it feels as though you HAVE to be one side or the other. you can't have a nuanced opinion, you can't understand that sometimes - there is a place for certain content, despite how extreme it is.

everybody is allowed a preference. you're allowed to be upset, offended, afraid, disgusted by or whatever else from x subject. every single individual is different and it's what makes us all beautiful. and i feel people need to really understand this. you can write extreme content but don't expect people to like it. on the other hand, if you don't like x content - don't attack someone for writing that content.

i just feel that there's wrong on both sides and i wish people would actually talk about the subject instead of throwing around attacks at each other. ultimately, whether anybody likes it or not - what you're writing is a footnote in the grand scheme of literature. you're writing on tumblr with your buddies and you're here to have fun.

if you wanna write an extreme sex scene with your consenting friends, go for it. if you don't want to write smut or you can't stand a certain ship, that is totally fine, too.

it's okay! both sides can be right without being aggressive or nasty.

like said, i would never label myself 'pro-ship' or any of that shit because i don't agree with that stance. i believe that there is a place for all content in all media in some, way, shape or form. i believe that rp is a slippery slope because it's a hobby that involves partners and is sociable. you have to please those around you and must understand that you can't wave around fetishes without a potential backlash. i agree people should write what they want, but i don't agree that there is a place for ( for example ) smut involving kids or animals. especially in the rpc. i've seen people 'joke' before about writing a pedo purely for exploration & to get a reaction. i can't imagine a more unenjoyable, questionable, horrific kind of thing to write in rp ( hell, even in media...that sort of character burns out and leaves creators depressed a/f).

i just wish people would talk, understand, and be open-minded. and - think about the bigger picture, too.

is this thing going to ride with you when you're offline?

probably not. so be respectful, have fun and just chill~

[izzyspussy]

like i rewatched recently after convincing @fanficfanattic to check them out, and i was like oh. oh there's actually not much here if you don't have some kind of mental problem that sends you literally insane when exposed to uhhh whatever is in there that did this to me and makes you interpret every detail to the absolute fullest possible extent of the text. and as such, i have doubts that anybody actually really did this on purpose, HOWEVER. i truly cannot will not SHAN'T ever get over how fucking perfectly richie's clown-constructed fears align with what his damage is as a gay man who was a pubescent teen in love with his germaphobic boy best friend in the late eighties and grew up to be a closeted solo stage performer. LIKE.

right, like. let's tally them up here, we've got:

a faded, old missing poster that shows he was last seen today

a room full of clown figurines that he ends up just kind of creeped out by, whatever (the liarrrrrrrrrr)

a porcelain marionette doll of his rotting corpse with its strings cut and used to sew its mouth shut instead

a fucked up, sick, evil eddie

a statue of paul bunyan trying to penetrate stab him with his huge pole rake or whatever

let's go ahead and include the werewolf wearing his clothes from the book because how on earth could i not oh my goddd man hold on a minute hold on a fucking SECOND

disembodied men's voices calling him a pussy and a fag while he's performing his misogynistic straightsona on stage

just an eyeball. a bare eyeball. staring at him. it doesn't blink it's just a bare eyeball and it's staring at him. its using its optic nerve to slither across the table to look closer.

an invitation to his own funeral that makes a point to say he's not missed, hand delivered to him by a much younger dead gay man who got hatecrimed a few days ago and flirtatiously but also kind of meanly says he "hope[s] to see [him] there"

a time freeze where only he and the monster are still autonomous and aware

i think those are all of them that pennywise made specially for richie rather than for the group

okay, so now let's add these bitches up and come to some conclusions.

the missing poster could scare any kid, especially a kid surrounded by the missing posters of other kids who are actually missing, HOWEVER we must take into account that ONLY richie had a poster - meaning pennywise must have been able to pick up that fear being stronger or running deeper in richie than the others. ergo, richie is not scared of "going missing" as a general concept just because other kids are going missing right now, rather richie has a more established fear of him specifically being victimized and likely murdered.

clown figures, who cares. he was relatively unbothered by this. i've said this before, but i'll say it again. pennywise made the clowns because richie had said out loud that he feared clowns and was likely thinking about running into them at that moment, so the material was readily available. it took pennywise a little bit longer to figure richie out because richie is already coming to understand his grown-up fears. the same goes for bev, which is why she was too difficult to scare enough to eat right away.

eddie and paul don't really need an explanation. he's scared of the other boys and men that he's attracted to, and he's scared of eddie getting sick or hurt. if we wanna read into paul trying to stab him with a cylindrical non-knife rather than just joking about it, it makes sense that he'd be scared of penetrative sex. he's at the age to be thinking about it, to be just starting to have the desire for sex, and penetration is generally presented as a necessary component to having sex. in my own life i have known kids who didn't want to be gay specifically because they were afraid of anal sex, which was the only gay sex they had ever heard of.

the eyeball (and the heckling) is also obvious and kind of self-explanatory - despite which it is honestly one of my favorite constructs of the whole fucking franchise. when he shouts that it's looking at him.... girl.......

ANYWAY. NOW FOR THE STUFF THAT REALLY GETS TO ME. THAT I WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO STOP THINKING ABOUT FOR THE REST OF MY DAYS ON THIS BITCH OF AN EARTH. BECAUSE I'M NUTS.

missing poster + marionette + funeral + time freeze = a fear of dying young to targeted violence after living his short life as a delicate, breakable representation of himself never the real thing, not outwardly controlled but still unable to act on his own will, painfully silenced, with no genuine connection to others

werewolf + no mourners + also time freeze (placing him with pennywise and separate from everyone else, likening him to a cannibalistic monster that impersonates a man the same as the werewolf) = fear of secretly being a monster and/or having a monstrous disease that causes his community at large to regard him with fear and disgust, makes him unrecognizable to his friends and family, and sentences his lovers to the same fate <- and all that is without even considering the precedent of werewolf mythos in horror, wherein lycanthropy classically represents uncontrollable, "immoral" material desires such as lust - if you do take that history into account, this is even more specifically a fear of sentencing his lovers to the same fate after he fails to be virtuous enough to abstain from becoming physically close with them

like okay, lycanthropy as an allegory for hiv is obviously a dicey thing to do, once again we're in schrodinger's homophobia territory, but listen. listen...... in this one case (in my head, by me) i think it's done well, not least of course because it isn't actually textually that allegory, it's a metaphor in-universe. and i like it and it makes me crazy and psycho and i can't stop thinking about it forever and ever. also it doesn't even have to be hiv it could just be the fear and guilt of being closeted - in hayley kiyoko's words "feeling like a monster in disguise" - on one hand that you could be found out, and on the other that you are inherently taking advantage of others just by being near them and/or that you're a corrupting influence to the people closest to you and/or suffering under the narrative pushed by homophobia that queerness is in itself an infectious disease.

oh shit, and i just remembered one of the ideas in homophobic anti-hiv treatment propaganda Back Then was that gays just had it (much like how in the humoral era they said women just had chlamydia, like vaginas just. had it built in). so like i mean i'm sure richie is skeptical enough - especially about disease and medicine, what with. you know. sonia. - to logically know that can't be true, doesn't make sense, impossible because surely if it was true homos would simply all die of tuberculosis, leprosy (hey, anybody wanna talk about eddie's main constru-), or the god damn common cold in early childhood. BUT hearing that shit all the time and knowing you have this secret, that you specifically are attracted to someone who pathologically fears illness, like........ no matter how much you know it's not true, it has to haunt your fucking nightmares anyway. and that's what pennywise does - it digs through your subconscious to bring your nightmares and/or your most warped and exaggerated perception of the self out into the open to metaphysically season and tenderize your delicious fallible human flesh. have i posted this part of the post before. who can say.

anyway, i also decided while writing this (afflicted with my own pseudo-prophetic madness, i think) that adrian's like mean sarcastic flirty "hope to see you there, handsome" is also a manifestation of richie's fear that he wouldn't be accepted by the gay community either - that other gay men want him dead just as much as homophobes. maybe in a bisexual way, or maybe in a sunk cost way - meaning, like, he feasibly could safely come out now in 2017 and the most generalized public perception of homos in his environment is neutral-positive, he could even get married, have kids, etc, like it's... it's fucking fine, now. but it wasn't fine before and he never thought it would get better and he built his straightsona on the basis of being as far from any association of queerness as possible, to the point of being offensive, and now he's fucking stuck with that. he did that and he can't take it back now even though his reasons for it no longer apply. and if he tried to take it off now, both sides (so to speak) would surely be equally disdainful of him.

maybe i should get an exorcism.

thinking about richie tozier in the year of our lord twenty twenty four 🙄

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Timestuck AU: The Power of Mabel ch.2

While fighting over a time machine so one twin can win a pig or the other can win the heart of a girl, Mabel is left stranded in a snowy forest with no time machine and no brother. Oops.

The BEAUTIFUL art pieces were done by @clownwry and @elishevart ! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! 😭❤️💋

ch.1 - ch.3

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford was way more nervous than he was letting on.

She had long, pretty brown hair, braces over her teeth, sneakers, a skirt, and a sweater that allowed the cold air to pass through it. Her cheeks were slightly chubby with youth and nosy, as well as her nose, due to the freezing weather. Her eyes matched her hair perfectly, and though they were clouded with fear and confusion, Ford swore he could see sparkling behind the clouds, sparkling that made itself well-known when she asked if she could make him a sweater or when she saw his hands.

She had long, pretty brown hair, braces over her teeth, sneakers, a skirt, and a sweater that allowed the cold air to pass through it. Her cheeks were slightly chubby with youth and nosy, as well as her nose, due to the freezing weather. Her eyes matched her hair perfectly, and though they were clouded with fear and confusion, Ford swore he could see sparkling behind the clouds, sparkling that made itself well-known when she asked if she could make him a sweater or when she saw his hands.

Ford would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy Mabel’s company, but she was practically a stranger, and keeping a random girl in his house that was located in the middle of the woods was fishy and Ford couldn’t help but feel like it was illegal. But he couldn’t leave her out in the snow and send her on her way to find her home and family, so he decided to keep her warm or healthy, simply because it was the right thing to do.

But then she said she had no parents to call. Only a brother, who was lost, too. Ford can remember the old rule: If you’re lost, stay where you are until you are found. So he then decided that she could stay here until her brother found her, which should be by morning at the latest.

Still, he felt uneasy, so once Mabel was settled in front of the TV, Ford excused himself and went into the kitchen to make a phone call. There was only one man who would have better judgement in this situation than him.

The phone rang a few times. Ford checked his watch to make sure it was a reasonable time to call. It wasn’t Sunday, was it? But then the ringing stopped. “Howdy! This here Fiddleford McGucket.”

“Hey there, buddy.” Ford smiled to himself at hearing that cheerful voice. “How have you been?”

“Stanford Pines! Good t’hear from ya!” Fiddleford cheered. “M’just fine, just fine! How are ya?! Ya haven’t gotten eaten by monsters yet, have ya?” He laughed, making his old friend chuckle along.

“No no, I’m alright.” Ford almost brought up the reason he called, but then he remembered something very important to Fiddleford. “How are Emma-May and Tater?”

“OH! They’re doin’ great! We’re all very happy n’ doin’ well! Ya won’t believe how big Tate’s gotten since ya last saw him! He’s already crawlin’!”

“Wow, that's great to hear.” Ford sat in a chair at the kitchen table. “Has he said his first words yet?”

“No, not quite. Actually, he’s extremely quiet. Not a lot of baby-babble.” Fiddleford chuckled. “The doctor says that’s perfectly normal. Tate’s so smart, he’s reachin’ for specific colors n’ such, n’ ya can tell he’s thinkin’ a lot n’ knows what’s goin’ on, he just got nothin’ t’say.”

“I was very shy when I was young.” Ford commented casually. He didn't feel like mentioning why. “If Tate is anything like either of his parents he’s very intelligent.”

“Oh, he’s so much like both of us it’s scary. Ya know Emma-May, so clever n’ quiet n’ such. Tate’s got all that. But he already looks so much like me! But he’s got his mama’s hair! N’ Santy Claus brought ‘im this fun little fishin’ game where ya fish for plastic fish with a pole with a magnet on it, n’ he loves it! I can’t wait to take ‘im fishin’ when he’s big enough! Ya really outta give yourself a break n’ come down for a visit, he’d move to see his Uncle Ford again.”

Ford’s face felt hot. “Perhaps. Spring is when a lot of anomalies are active and breeding, so i would prefer not to miss that, but maybe I could visit for a weekend before that…”

“Well, no pressure, I won’t assume anythang until ya tell me to, just know there’s always a bed for ya here.”

“Thank you, Fiddleford. The same for you and your family. The clean air will do everyone some good.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Fiddleford sighed happily and perked up. “So! Whatcha callin’ for? Not that I’m not happy just t’chat, but ya never call.”

Ford laughed and shrugged to himself. “I suppose I don’t. I’m sorry.”

“No need t’be sorry, Stanford, just wanna know what’s up.”

“Well, I was hoping to get your advice on something.”

“Shoot.”

“Um… well…” Ford rubbed the back of his neck, unsure how to tell him this. “I heard some unusual sounds outside today…”

“What kind of unusual sounds?”

“Cracks, like lightning. And some faint yelling.” Ford answered. “I thought it might be a tree branch or a new anomaly to catalogue, but when I opened the door a young girl was standing there in the snow with no coat.”

“Heavens! Is she alright?!”

“She’s okay, no frostbite. She was cold, but after sitting by the fire, drinking some hot chocolate, and changing into some dry clothes, she’s okay now.”

“Well, good.”

“So of course I brought her in. I tried to call her parents, she probably got lost playing…”

“Sure.”

“... but she says she doesn’t have any parents.”

“Oh.” Fiddleford sighed. “Oh. Now, wait, are ya sure she didn’t just say that so ya wouldn’t call?”

Ford chuckled and said, “I first thought that too, but she looked too sad to be lying.”

“Okay, I see. Does she got somebody ya can call?”

“She says she has a brother, but he was out there, too. So he is probably out there looking for her and therefore nowhere near a phone.”

“Fair enough, okay. So, I reckon y’all are waitin’ for him t’come ‘round.”

“Yup.”

“Well sounds to me like you’ve handled this all pretty well.” Fiddleford said confidently.

“You think so?” Ford asked. “I can’t help but feel like I’m doing something wrong. Like I’m missing something. Am I doing something wrong?”

“Nonsense, buddy, you’re doin’ great.” Fiddleford assured. “Look here, ya can’t just leave a young gurl out in the snow t’try t’find her way home...”

“I agree.”

“... so ya really got one option n’ that’s t’keep an eye on her n’ let her in as a guest. N’ ya tried t’call, but nothin’. The best thang ya can do right now is be there for this lil’lady n’ just be kind t’her. N’ if nobody comes for her by mornin’, why don’t ya go into town n’ see if anybody knows her, then they can help y’all out.”

Ford nodded, then remembered that his best friend couldn’t see it, so he said, “Yeah, that sounds like a good plan. Thank you, Fiddleford.”

“You’re welcome. N’ hey, are ya okay?” He asked seriously.

“Yes, yes I’m okay. I just want to make sure I do this right.”

“O’course. I understand. Ya want me t’come down there n’ give a hand?”

“No, that’s not necessary. I’m sure Mabel will find her brother in the morning.”

“Mabel, huh? Well, if y’all don’t, please call me. N’ even if ya do find her brother, call me. Keep me updated.”

“I will. Thank you, Fiddleford.”

“Anytime, Stanford.”

~~~~~~~~~~

When Mr. Ford gave Mabel the remote for the old TV and went into the kitchen, she decided to use her awesome detective skills to figure out what year it was. If it was before Grunkle Stan lived here and opened the Mystery Shack, she must be pretty far back in time. But she had no way of knowing if it was 1999 or 2005 or the 50s.

The TV was old, but so was Grunkle Stan’s in her time. So Mr. Ford could have had this TV for a long time and didn’t want to replace it. 

Okay, so when was the TV made? Mabel didn’t know. Dipper would have known.

Okay, Grunkle Stan mentioned watching TV when he was a kid once or twice. So at least Mabel was when Stan was a kid, okay. 

Mabel turned the TV on and it was in color. Okay, so she wasn’t too far back in time. But the TV was playing a commercial for clear skin. The picture was gritty and all the people in it had puffy hair and long socks and oh my god was that woman wearing legwarmers?! Mabel grinned at seeing her favorite fashion on TV, but then her face dropped. When was she?

She tapped her chin and tried to think of how to know the date without being suspicious. She could ask Mr. Ford, but that might be suspicious. Mabel decided to start flicking through channels to try to guess what year she was in based on what was airing. A lot of shows were about cowboys, space, or game shows. Huh. Okay.

All the TV shows were definitely older. Nothing her dad would watch from when he was a kid, so if Mabel had to guess by everyone’s crazy air, the cheesy TV shows, and the music occasionally playing, she was in the 70s.

Huh. Okay. But she needed an exact year. So Mabel turned off the TV, saw an old radio on a desk, and turned it on to listen.

“... cuz it’s cold doesn’t mean you can't boogie, folks! So grab someone you wanna get warm with, turn up the music, and get your bodies warm in the coolest way possible! Here’s Night Fever, by the Bee Gees!”

Mabel grinned at the disco music. Her personal favorite song from these guys was More Than a Woman, but Night Fever would do. For a moment Mabel forgot her mission, jumped off the couch and left the blanket behind, and in the over-sized gray t-shirt Mr. Ford gave her while her clothes were drying, she danced along to the music, singing the chorus since those were the only words she knew.

“When you reach out for me. Yeah, and the feelin' is right,

Then I get night fever, night fever. We know how to do it! Gimme that night fever, night fever. We know how to show it!”

Mabel laughed at herself as she spun around in her socks and tried to do the point-and-hype dance she didn’t know the name to, but everyone did it when a disco song played.

Little did she know that Ford had returned to check on her, and was smiling at her as she shook her hips and waved her hair around and had fun. He leaned against the doorway and planned to let her dance in peace, but when she did a spin and saw him, she grinned and took his hand. “C’mon, Mr. Ford, come dance with me!”

Ford chuckled and shook his head. “No, no! I can’t dance!”

“You got two legs that aren’t broken?”

“Yes.”

“Then you can dance! C’mon!” Mabel encouraged, let him go when they were both in the middle of the room, and she started to dance again. “Don’t make me dance alone!” She even pulled an evil move and gave him puppy eyes. Rude.

Ford smiled slyly at her and hesitantly copied her boogie moves. It was true that Ford never liked to dance, but there was no one around but Mabel, and though he had only known her for an hour or more, he was sure she would never make fun of him.

And he was right.

“Wow! Look at you, Mr. I-Can’t-Dance! Yeah!” Mabel hopped on the couch, standing, and took Ford’s hand. “Here, I’ll spin you!”

Ford laughed and allowed it, doing a single spin, but then scooping her in his arms to dip her and then let her down, making her laugh as they continued to dance. 

“Alright alright, you crazy cats, that was Night Fever by the Bee Gees! It's a snowy day here in the heart of Oregon, with snow flurries coming in harder all night, but it should clear up by morning and be a fun day to go out and play! The date is January 26th, 1978 in case you gotta write a check or mail a thank you note to a friend or family member. I’m still writing letters for Christmas! We’ll be right back with some of your favorites after a word or two from our sponsors, so don’t go anywhere!”

Mabel stared at the radio. “Wow, 1978.” She breathed. Her parents were only kids right now, maybe only six or seven-years-old. Wow.

Ford chuckled. “I know, I’m still in the bad habit of writing ‘77.”

Mabel realized her mistake, but was grateful her host misunderstood her. “Me too.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for dinner. How about some ramen noodles?”

“Yes, please! Can we play a game after we eat?”

“Sure. I don’t have many board games, but I do have a deck of cards.”

“Do you know any card tricks?!”

“A few.” Ford admitted, wiggling his fingers. “There are some advantages to having more fingers than average.”

Mabel grinned up at him and followed him to the kitchen for dinner.

[restapesta]

23. Don’t you get it? You’re the only one I can be honest with.

Mickey takes being alone with Ian for granted. He really does.

It's quite sad he only realizes that when he's not alone with his ginger life companion—specifically when he's stuck in a moving car with him and fucking Phillip, feeling like a pussy for not having the guts to just open the door and jump out.

Did Ian put child's lock on his door, what the fuck?

He can't do this. It's a fifteen-minute ride to the Gallagher house and Mickey won't be able to survive it. No fucking way. Why did Ian have to say yes to picking Lip up from work? Did he know what hell he would be putting his poor husband through, huh?

If college bitch says something about his shitty delivery job one more time, he swears to God—

"And you know what the best part about this shitty delivery job is?" No. Please, God, make him stop. "Bathroom? Doesn't even fucking exist,"

If Mickey had a gun, he'd stuff it in his mouth.

From the corner of his eye, Mickey sees Ian's gripping the wheel slightly tighter, his knuckles turning white, his tongue bitten between his slightly clenched teeth. Sadly, only Mickey can see him be so frustrated from the passenger seat. He wishes Lip would lean over from the back and see how fucking annoying he really is with his constant babbling.

Maybe it's good he didn't bring a gun with him—Ian looks like he'd wanna stuff it in his mouth, too.

Does he have child's lock on?

"Anyways," Lip breathes out and Mickey focuses on the buzzing of the AC so he wouldn't have to endure the brainwashing his brother-in-law's—why him?—voice is doing.

Ian seems to be thinking the same thing, his eyes rolling discreetly to the back of his head, staying there for a moment or two.

Mickey's torn between telling him to keep his eyes on the goddamn road or just letting him crash their new car into a pole. At least then they wouldn't have to listen to the yapping that's filling every nook and cranny of the fresh interior.

Their car had never seemed so small. Since when is Mickey so claustrophobic? There used to be so much room.

Oh right, Lip's ego is taking up most of it. How could Mickey forget?

"Oh, yeah," He says suddenly, and Ian and Mickey share a look. What now? Will he ever stop? "I meant to ask you about your meds, Ian. You told me you were visiting your doctor or some shit like that."

Mickey reclines back in his seat, lips pursing as he waits for Ian to fill Lip in on the new prescription and its side effects, and whatever other shit Mickey's already got written down in the notes on his phone from when Ian told him in detail about it.

He had been pretty down when he came home from seeing his doctors, listing off all of the shit he was worried about with the new therapy and adjusting to it. He even had a couple of sleepless nights that resulted in him seeking out different pharmacies to buy sleeping pills, which ultimately led to a night of sleepless vomiting because the cocktail of pills didn't really bode well for Ian's stomach.

Mickey doesn't mind reliving it. Doesn't mind listening to his husband talk about the things important to him and things that Mickey should know about.

And, truthfully, Mickey's already come face to face with the fact that he likes knowing about all of Ian's shit—they're already living, sleeping, and working together, so the prospect of knowing that new meds give Ian diarrhea if they're taken on an empty stomach doesn't really seem like a TMI-type of thing to know.

When Ian's related, nothing and everything is pretty much TMI.

"Oh," Ian responds after a moment of silence. His eyes aren't focused when Mickey turns to look at him. It seems as if he's racking his brain around for the proper words, yet can't seem to find them. Eventually, he just lets out, "Everything's the same. Nothing new."

Mickey knows that's not true.

"Didn't you say you were being put on some new shit?" Lip's confused. Mickey is too.

Ian was put on new shit. Shit that landed him with a week of goddamn exhaustion and a fucked-up stomach.

"No. It's the same."

"Oh," Lip mutters. "Okay then."

And he continues to go into another monologue about why being a delivery boy is such a shitty job to have with a mind of his.

Mickey stares at Ian's side profile for as long as it takes him to turn around and meet his eye. It takes him long—in fact, Mickey's pretty sure Ian won't be turning around any time soon.

Why would he lie? Why would he hide the fact he did change his meds when it's really not that big of a deal?

Mickey's even more confused by it because Ian had ranted about his doctor's appointment the day of it, nearly talking Mickey's ear off. He had been annoyed, relieved, and worried, all at the same time, and the entire Tuesday was just spent with them talking about bipolar like the mundane thing it was.

So, why wouldn't Ian just want to retell that shit again? It wasn't as if he didn't still have frustrations over it. Not like he wouldn't fucking jump on the chance to talk about his biggest concerns the second the opportunity presented itself.

Why then?

Lip's still talking and Ian's still not looking at him.

Mickey places a gentle hand on his thigh, trying to get his attention. In response to Mickey's thumb running over his husband's jeans, Ian just places a hand on top of his, picking it up and raising it to his mouth until the rough skin meets the smoothness of his lips. When he finally looks at him, there's a plead in his eye. An answer to Mickey's unasked question.

Later.

"Ugh, can you guys not do that here? Since when did you become that couple?"

They both ignore the dumbass in the backseat of their car. Ian turns to look ahead, and he pushes his foot down visibly on the gas pedal, and Mickey knows that the time until they're able to drop Lip off is cutting shorter.

"You guys are really annoying with that mind-reading shit, you know that?"

Mickey breathes in deeply.

Five more minutes. Just five more minutes and they'll be alone.

Ian's hand doesn't disentangle from his, but Mickey does move them so they're laying on top of his leg, palms pressed tightly together. He squeezes at it once.

Ian squeezes back.

There's a faint mumble from the back.

"I fucking hate being the third wheel."

Mickey barely stops himself from jumping into Ian's lap, just in spite.

Instead, with his free hand, he just flips him off.

---

They're driving to their place when Mickey finally asks the question. They've been alone for a couple of minutes now, after a prolonged—much to both their dismays—goodbye to Lip in front of the Gallagher house. As soon as it was appropriate to, Ian peeled out of the driveway, putting as much distance between him and his family—his annoying-ass brother—as he possibly could in a record time.

At first, Mickey fiddled with the radio until he landed on some radio station that played pop-shit music, lowering the volume until the Taylor Swift song—he hates that he knows it—was just a hum filling the silence. Ian isn't speaking, but he doesn't seem tense.

He seems just as always, shoulders even further relaxed—slumped, actually, because he has the posture of a question mark—now that Lip is out of the car and in the hands of the others to deal with.

"So," Mickey starts casually when his weirdo of a partner starts singing lowly to Lover on the radio. It's a song they only listen to when they're feeling sappier than usual, but Ian tends to always be sappy, so none of this sweet singing shit was a surprise for Mickey. The lyrics coming out of Ian's mouth still make his chest swell pleasantly, despite him barely holding himself back from rolling his eyes. "What was that?"

"Hm?" Ian's eyes momentarily move to eye Mickey. They go back almost immediately. "What was what?"

"What was that thing with Lip?" The question isn't meant to be judgmental nor accusing. Mickey really is just curious.

It wasn't him whom Ian had lied to. But why did he lie in the first place?

Ian shrugs, lowering the volume with the switch on the wheel even further until they can barely hear the soft voice.

"I just didn't feel like telling him." Is the simple reply.

"Why?"

"Because."

"Ian."

"Mickey—"

"Come on, man, don't give me that bullshit."

"I'm not—I don't," He exhales roughly as if finally forcing himself to admit to something he doesn't want to admit to. "I don't like anybody knowing about it. It's nobody's business but my own."

Mickey makes a face, still confused as fuck. He gets the reasoning behind the words, but it's just not clicking in his brain. Maybe Lip really did brainwash it. "You say you don't like anybody knowing, but you told me."

Ian glances away from the road and sends Mickey the type of look that says he thinks what Mickey just said was the dumbest thing possible. It's incredulous.

"You're not anybody, Mick."

And that's sweet and all, but—

"Lip's not anybody either."

Ian sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, dramatically exasperated. "Don't you get it, Mickey? You're the only one I can be honest with. Completely transparent."

Mickey doesn't know why he's still pushing, but fuck, there's no way. "You can be transparent with Lip. He'll hear you out, give you advice. Won't judge you." Why is he defending Lip again? "I'm not the only one who understands."

"Yeah, but you're the only one who isn't annoying about it. If I wanted Lip to know, I would've called him straight away. But instead, I talked to you. Mickey, you're a dumbass if you don't see that you're the only one I want to tell."

Well fuck.

Mickey blinks. He actually is a dumbass, but that's already been genetically proven. This is something else.

Mickey feels Ian's words deep in his chest. His heart jumps to his throat—it's one of the best things Ian could've said to him. It doesn't feel fucking real.

"Really?" He asks pathetically. It's not like Ian would lie; he's always had a knack for saying everything that's on his mind. Mickey loves that about him right now. It's just that—Mickey? He wants to tell Mickey about it and nobody else?

Ian smiles at him. "Really, babe," Mickey blushes as the nickname. "You know just how many questions to ask. When to listen and when to talk. When to give me advice and when to tell me to get out of my own head." Ian's eyebrows furrow. "Lip doesn't know how to do that. Not like you—"

No. Mickey will not cry. No. It's just eyeball sweat.

"—With you, I know that I can say whatever is on my mind and won't feel like shit about it. It's fucking liberating, having somebody like that."

Mickey breathes in deeply. Fuck Ian for using his words like this and making his heart squeeze impossibly. Why is he so fucking perfect all the fucking time?

How did Mickey get so fucking lucky?

"Yeah," He responds dumbly, out of breath—because it legit is logged up in his throat at the moment. He clears it. "I guess that's what best friends are for."

And the grin Ian sends him in response to the sheepishly-said sentence is enough to make butterflies explode inside Mickey's belly—ugh, no, he's supposed to be past that stage, for fuck's sake.

Ian's still grinning as Mickey's whole face probably turns the shade of Ian's favorite vegetable—maybe that's why Ian likes it when Mickey blushes—and he has to avert his gaze so he doesn't go even redder than Ian's hair.

"Best friends? I feel honored, Mick."

"Shut up."

"No, for real."

"Shut up."

Ian laughs and spares Mickey the embarrassment by raising the volume up on the radio, the song now booming loudly through the space.

Ian glances over at Mickey right as he starts singing it joyfully, a wide smile on his face. This is the Ian Mickey knows and loves—happy Ian.

Mickey's favorite Ian after the horny one.

Mickey's chest swells with pride. He ended up with Ian. The Ian who loves him unconditionally; who knows just the right to say and when to say it; who just told him Mickey's the only one he can be real with.

I can only be honest with you, too. He wants to tell him. I only am honest with you.

Instead of saying the words, he starts singing himself, and the screeching voices of two men stupidly in love are seeping out of the slightly opened windows, the wind whooshing them away.

I can only do this with you, Mickey thinks. I'm only this free with you.

Judging by the way Ian's smiling, Mickey guesses he's thinking the same thing, too.

"Darling, you're my, my, my, my lover."

[nightklok]

Kloktober Day 1 Prompt

Prompt: Favorite Character and OTP Pairing: Picklegail (Pickles the Drummer/Abigail Remeltindtdrinc) Title: The war is over and we are beginning Characters: Pickles the Drummer, Abigail Remeltindtdrinc, Eclair (cat), band members and charles are only mentioned Trigger Warnings: Very slight angst, very slight mention/discussion of trauma/PTSD. Tags: Some dark humor, mentioned trauma, discussion of trauma, fall, post galagtikon 2, hopeful/happy ending Summary: It's the first fall Pickles has realized he's lived through in years.

Author's Note: Yes this is...6 days late-But i still wanted to publish this anyway so enjoy :')

Read this fic on AO3 or read below!

The first day of fall fell on a Saturday.

And Pickles would realize it was the first time he had actually been aware of fall in years.

He couldn’t remember the last time he saw the leaves change or pumpkin picking or any of the fall activities he sparingly went to as a kid. He simply had no time, family, or desire to do any of those things as he grew older. He had the sudden moment of sadness that he had missed another fall but told himself fall was gonna come back next year and he’d just look at the leaves harder next fall. But he never did.

But now, he had the time. A lot of it. And a fresh perspective on life and just how wonderful living a quiet life was.

Getting to sleep in on a Saturday morning with the person he loved the most and having nothing else to do for the day was one of them. Normally, Abigail was the one who woke up earlier but for the weekend, it got to be the opposite. He could get up in an hour, make some breakfast and they could see about doing something together. Whether it’s going outside or staying in and watching something. But at the moment, he was content enough just sleeping.

But it wouldn’t last long sadly. Despite nothing important needing to be done for the day, he was woken up by the sound of meowing and a cat smacking his face.

Éclair, their beautiful cat they found outside a K-Mart, happened to like going on walks in the morning. And she was very persistent about her walks being exactly at 7:13 AM. It was 7:13 AM.

“C’mon, it’s Saturday,” He murmured as he pulled the blanket closer to his face, hoping that he could sleep for just a few more minutes.

But Éclair had no concept of time and would continue pawing at the sheets and when she began whining, he knew that his time sleeping in was already over. He didn’t want to wake her up and figured she deserved the extra hour of sleeping.

“Okay, okay, I’ll take you on a walk,” Pickles finally answered as he used a hand to gently push her away just so he could sit up. He was careful to not disturb Abigail but he saw her move and murmur something he couldn’t quite hear. He had to assume by the tone that she meant she was gonna do it. She always tried to even when he told her to sleep in on weekends.

“Just go back to sleep, babe, I’ll take care of it.” He answered quickly as he got out of bed but she was already sitting up.

“I’ll come with you.” She answered, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes., “Just give me a few minutes.”

There was no convincing otherwise and he was too tired himself to argue. He quickly snuck in a kiss before he got out of bed, “Alright, take your time.”

By the time he had thrown on some clothes and made himself look presentable enough, Abigail was already by the front door, kneeling down to leash Éclair. Despite them taking the same time to get ready, she looked like she had spent much more time doing it. Then again, she always looked beautiful to him regardless of how much time she spent.

He really did save the world to get to see today huh.

She stood up once she leashed the cat and turned to look at him with that small smile he always loved, “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” He answered as he made sure he put the house keys in his pocket before opening the door to let her out first before himself. Éclair already began wandering around the front lawn, as far as her leash would go.

They were hit by a cool breeze that gently swayed the trees surrounding them, causing some of the red and orange leaves to fall gracefully onto the ground. The trees weren’t entirely turning their leaves yet but the appearance was showing much more by the day. And each day only meant another normal day. The worst was behind them.

“You sure you don’t wanna get a jacket?” She asked.

“Nah, I’ll be fine. Got my own body heat.” He answered before he pulled her slightly closer enough to feel her skin heat up by the touch, “Besides I know how you can warm me up if I get cold.”

She wanted to mention about the neighbors or anybody seeing them but there was no one around at the moment. It was just them enjoying the early morning fall, the cool breeze and quiet excitement for a new season that just begun.

“Well, are you cold now?” She asked as she pulled him a bit closer.

He didn’t say anything else but reached up to kiss her, feeling her warm lips as they pressed against his. It felt as compassionate as the other thousands of kisses they must’ve shared in their lifetime. Honestly, he could probably find the same feelings he felt kissing her when he got a first kiss; the excitement, anticipation and pure love that he got to kiss someone he loved.

Their kiss was interrupted when she felt her leash getting tugged by Éclair who had grown impatient of them. She sat as far as the leash would let her, looking up at them expectantly. Amused, they walked past their front lawn to the sidewalk but felt the leash being pulled once again. They turned around to find her sitting still, meowing impatiently.

“C’mon, wanna walk a bit more? No? Okay.” Pickles answered with a laugh as Abigail went to pick her up. Almost immediately, she climbed up on her shoulders as she always preferred.

Her idea of walking outside was to walk a few steps and one of them had to pick her up for the rest of the walk. Walking around a block required too much energy. Did they expect her to actually walk alongside them every morning? Yes. Did she never fulfill that dream? No. But they also fed into her routine and nature, it wasn’t just their house anymore after all.

There was no use in arguing with a stubborn cat. She had made her territory in Abigail’s shoulder and they simply had to go along with it. She adjusted the leash so the other end of it would hook onto the inner jacket pocket that had a small sewn in hole meant for earphones. Once she made sure that the leash was secure inside, she reached over to hold his hand who quickly took it.

They took the usual route around the block. Shoes crunched against freshly fallen leaves, the wind picked up slightly again causing the leaves around them to move gently against the wind to a new area. If Pumpkin Spice Lattes and Apple Cider weren’t a symbol that fall was approaching, it was the leaves.

Pickles did try to remember when he last fall. Was it when he was a kid? A teen, maybe? He always fled before fall approached somehow. Always ended up in an area where he could not see the seasons change and everything remained a stagnant season the whole time.

But there was nothing to run from anymore. He could stay and watch the seasons change and turn forever if he wanted to now. Is this what freedom really feels like?

“Do you wanna go grab some coffee at the coffee shop?” She asked, interrupting his thoughts.

He quickly snapped his attention back to her and nodded, “Yeah, actually, the one two blocks from here, right?”

“Yep.”

He knew she knew that something was on his mind but she thankfully didn’t say anything. She already knew enough that he would speak when he was ready and he was always thankful for being able to fill in the gaps when he couldn’t speak. And she would always be thankful when he knew what she meant to say when she could barely get a word. It was a secret language between the two that no one but them knew and it was one they were both incredibly fluent in.

The coffee shop was a mom-and-pop one located on the end of the corner. LGBT friendly (Did he ever find those kind of coffee shops growing up?) and even had a small corner of the area for younger kids to play with. It was one of the places that they always loved frequently going to-if they weren’t well known to the world, they would’ve been known pretty well to the baristas.

“I can take Éclair, you can go order for us.” Pickles said. There were seats outside and given the weather, it wouldn’t be so bad to just sit outside and drink coffee while enjoying nature.

“Alright. The usual?”

“Surprise me.”

Pickles managed to take Éclair off her shoulder and set her down when he found a seat with decent shade. He tied the leash to the pole of the table but she seemed uninterested in exploring and instead jumped on his lap, presumably to take a quick nap.

He checked his phone while he waited, trying to catch up on whatever missed emails and posts from friends he had missed. Admittedly, going from seeing his friends everyday to now once a week at most was one of the toughest things to shift to. From knowing everything that went on in their lives, his knowledge of their whereabouts now came from whatever they posted in the group chat or social media.

Toki’s selfie with Magnus over the Eiffel Tower during their backpacking in Europe route. Nathan’s blurry image of a kid playing with a gator from the alligator rescue/children’s daycare he had started with Rachel. Skwisgaar’s video of one of the songs he was working with Nathan. A prototype rollercoaster blueprint from Murderface for the Dethklok amusement parks he and Knubbler were in charge of. And Charles not sending a photo but reminding him through text about a meeting regarding his solo album.

It was a crazy feeling to have looking at the boys he had lived with for more than a decade suddenly doing their own things. Did he feel left out? Maybe things were moving too fast? Miss the old times? He didn’t really know.

He found himself staring at his screen for far too long until Abigail came back taking a seat in front of him, “They’ll be coming over in a few minutes.”

He set the phone down, “Alright, what’d you get me?”

“You did mention you wanted me to surprise, didn’t you?” She answered with a playful smile that was clear she wouldn’t go easy on him.

“C’mon, I gotta know if I’m allergic to it or not. Could very well be allergic to milk today and might not even know it.”

“Guess it’s up to you to find out then; I’m sure there’s an EpiPen somewhere.”

Of course, she wanted to ask what was wrong but she didn’t want to press him. She knew he would budge eventually, he always did, but it was just a matter of patience and hoping to catch him at the right time.

Eventually, the barista came with the tray of coffees and food she had ordered, including a puppuccino for Éclair who woke up and hopped down to get her treat when Abigail set it down to get everyone’s orders.

She set the pumpkin spiced coffee, cinnamon rolls and a breakfast sandwich in front of him. She had ordered the same pumpkin spice coffee and breakfast sandwich; she always tried to avoid desserts for breakfast but he quickly shoved in a cinnamon roll in her plate anyway, “Here it can be your cheat day.”

“But you made me macrons yesterday.” She pointed out.

“It was sugar-free. And you can’t just pass off on a warm cinnamon roll. It’s bad for the environment I saved.”

She contemplated not even long enough before agreeing. They were pretty good cinnamon rolls…, “Guess I’ll need to pay for your contributions. Alright, I’ll take it.”

Pickles grinned as he took a sip of the coffee. It was still hot but he refused to even express he burnt his tongue for the sake of looking cool, “Great, glad my hard work paid off.”

For as much as he joked around, he didn’t mention anything about what was bothering him for the rest of their breakfast.

He would mention it on the walk back home when it was Pickles’ turn to let Éclair lay on his shoulder and Abigail holding a bag of free treats that the baristas insisted they take home. A few desserts as payment for saving the world. It was well worth it.

“I forgot what fall was like.” Pickles finally said as he looked at her. He didn’t downplay his feelings by joking

“You did?” She asked.

“Yeah. It had been too long since I last saw leaves and everything else and whatever. I guess it’s making me realize how long I missed out on some things, y’know?”

She had to wonder how he even forgot about fall. Or the fact that his hair color always reminded her of it. It was the color of vibrant red autumn leaves, not quite ready to fall yet but when the sun hit it, it showed the intricate details and would even shine as bright as it sometimes. And how could she ever put that into the right words? Maybe it just wasn’t the right moment, “Nostalgia?”

“I-I guess it’s that. Yeah. Nostalgic for the old things I guess. I was too used to that life. And I’m very happy with you, I really am! I’m doing more of the things now than I did before, but it’s hard to just completely let go of the past.”

Of course, he thought she would get offended which is why he didn’t look at her. Here he was clinging to his past again like some spoiled brat. If only he didn’t open his mouth. He probably seemed so ungrateful-

But he was met instead with warm hands taking his and he looked up to a very understanding Abigail, “I understand. There’s some things I miss and feel nostalgic for too. I don’t expect you to not miss those things. These things just end up happening, it’s part of natural life.”

“I guess…it’s just a lot harder to adjust than I thought. I’m sorry if I’m just dumping this on you, though. I know that this hasn’t been easy for you either.”

It wasn’t easy when Abigail could barely sleep without getting horrific nightmares that he had stayed up most nights worrying about. It wasn’t easy when Pickles ended up getting horrific nightmares too when he came back home, and he had yet to tell her all that he dreamt about. Their future kids, grandkids even, and even the current neighborhood kids would ask for stories of their heroism. Do they even dare talk about the price that was paid for it?

It couldn’t even be said that they had overcome it. The nightmares were less frequent, yes, but they were there. All it took was one bad night to ruin a week or month even. The horrors of their past would most likely be there for the rest of their lives, looming over and ready to strike when things seemed to be better.

But they made it so far together too. What’s another mile anyway?

“It hasn’t been easy but we’re both getting there.” She paused her walking to look at him, “We made it so far together, after all. I don’t expect you to be okay the same way you don’t expect me to be okay either, right? I’m not gonna ask you to do anymore than you already are doing and what you’re doing is enough.”

“And if it’s not enough? God, what if I’m just fucking up right now? There’s no way I can just…I don’t even know what. It’s just terrifying to be falling down that dark path again.”

She watched as Éclair looked up to the leaves around them, eyes completely dilated to look at the world around her. A leaf would just brush past her, failed to be caught and it fell to the ground.

Of course the leaves would eventually be raked. Whatever wasn’t thrown out or burned would eventually become mulch for the soil. Would help provide for the soil when spring rolls around. Then everything will grow again. Everything will be okay.

“If we fall again, we start over and flourish.”

—

“What was your last memory with fall if you don’t mind my asking?” Abigail asked that evening. They sat in the living room couch, sharing a blanket as they watched Knives Out. It would quickly become a tradition for them to watch whatever fall-related movies there were just to get in the spirit.

He paused for a moment, before finally coming up with an answer, “I met you, didn’t I? We were at that fall event Cornickelson used to host. It was probably a few years before you became Dethklok’s music producer? But anyway, we were paired at the same table and I was probably awkward as fuck right then and there but you still wanted to talk to me. We went to the garden and we just ended up talking about everything. God, I felt like a teenager with their first crush when I was with you. I never got to say that your hair color reminded me of the leaves.”

[saintheartwing]

So...I’ve Begun Reading Artemis Fowl...It IS Really Good

So, I decided to check out the movie and...ugh.Not good. So I began to think “How badly did they screw this up” and began reading the books.

They’re REALLY good. The thing you need to know about Artemis Fowl is he starts off as...well, a smug snake. He’s a big jerk in a lot of ways who, after his dad supposedly dies out trying to get into a new market in Russia which the Russian mafia doesn’t take kind to, his mom goes nutso. She doesn’t recognize him half the time. His only friend is his butler...and he doesn’t even know Butler’s real name. He’s also a super brilliant young man. Add all that up, and you get a very selfish, self-centered, pretentious young man who doesn’t find ANYBODY his equal. 

He decides upon doing some investigation into the more strange and occultish things in the world to get hold of a ton of money through a SEEMINGLY insane, ludicrous way...through the fairy world. Yes, there’s actual elves. He got into it, evidently, by trolling through the ancient stories and there always seemed to be commonalities among them from ancient races. 

Artemis slightly lucks out. He’s able to get hold of basically the Fairy Bible, the Book of the People. It provides insider knowledge of how they do things, and through that, he makes a plan. He’ll kidnap a fairy, overcoming their magic, and ransom them for gold. It’ll be difficult, they need to get one that’s low on magic. And they have to wear special sunglasses that will be reflective, for fairies can MESMERIZE people, hypnotizing them.  They’ll catch one doing the necessary ritual for magic recharge. 

The good news is fairies are fairly commonly popping out of the Underground they live in in Ireland...where the Fowl manor is located. And the ritual is best done near an ancient oak and a riverbend and even better, under a full moon. Well, there’s one not too far from Fowl Manor...and after some staking out...Fowl catches one. A fairy named Holly Short, the only female fairy on the recon unit that the fair folk have. 

He, Butler, and his butler’s sister Juliet lock her in a room with a bed. They’ve got their hostage. They use the helmet armor she’s got to communicate with her boss. The fairies figure out where Fowl Manor is, but though they can slow down time, pretty much stop it...Artemis now has fairy tech because he caught Holly, and this means Butler can move freely through the time bubble. He kicks the butts of EVERY recon agent sent to save her. So Holly’s boss, Commander Root, has to come in for negotiations. 

Artemis wants gold. A ton of twenty four carat gold. And a ton of gold is, evidently,  64.3 million dollars. A looot of money. Root says that Artemis can’t win. They have a “bio bomb”. It destroys all organic matter used on it, and if they’re caught in a time field, as they are right now, they can’t just race out the front door to get away. There’s only one helmet, and there’s three of them. They’re trapped.

Right?

Well, Artemis says he knows how to escape it. And he’s thought of everything ELSE the fairies would do so far. So...they send in a wild card. Professional Thief Mulch Diggums, a dwarf. Dwarves are natural diggers, they tunnel by unhinging their jaws, eating through the dirt, and expelling it out their rump.

...yeaaah...THAT particular scene from the movie’s pretty accurate. So Mulch is called on to tunnel into the Fowl estate to try and help free Holly. At the same time, Holly’s got a way to break free. She’s been using the bed to break into the floor and beneath the floor...is some earth. And she’s got an acorn on her. With that acorn and the proper words and access to real Earth...she can recharge her magic. Not even reflective lenses can keep her from mesmerizing Juliet. And Mulch finds Artemis’s copy of the Book of the People, thus taking away his big advantage over the fairies. Holly’s now free, but she can’t leave the house. Fairies have rules to adhere to if they wanna keep their magic, and when captured by Artemis, one of his rules was “You absolutely can’t leave the house”. Now...she COULD leave her room. He didn’t say she couldn’t do that. But the house? Nope.

No matter. Root’s gonna send in the gold, get Holly out...then bio bomb the place, stroll in, and claim the ransom.

Unfortuntely his second in command and friend, Cudgeon, has a better idea. They’ve got a troll Holly recently caught. Cudgeon suggested to the fairy’s ruling council to just launch the troll in. Have it wreck the place, the humans will be screaming for help, and then the fairies can just bust in and kick Fowl’s little ass up and down the halls. And if Holly’s hurt, well...too bad. 

It goes badly. Butler is strong and skilled but he was trying to get Juliet to safety and he wasn’t expecting a TROLL. Holly tries to help fight it off but she can’t get her helmet to work properly, it’s been damaged, and the weapon she used on the troll earlier to beat it was IN the helmet. She only manages to make it reel back, but she’s badly hurt. BUT...not so hurt she can’t use magic to heal Butler. Who is NOT. PLAYING.

He rises up, puts some nearby knight armor from a standing knight stand on...and has a mace. BAM! BAM! BAM! He has a Sig Saurer submachine gun. BAM-BAM-BAM! Nobody touches his sister. But...Holly asks him not to kill the troll. It’s beaten. And it’s just a dumb animal, please show mercy. So he doesn’t kill it, kicks it out, and Artemis and Juliet and Butler get contacted by Root, who agrees to send the money in, apologizing for the troll. 

Holly feels bad that Juliet’s about to get killed, she doesn’t feel bad about Artemis, but she doesn’t want Juliet killed. She says “I have magic, please, isn’t there anything I can do, you’re gonna be killed!” Artemis says there’s nothing she can do. He knows there’s a real danger coming but he’s sure he can beat it.

Although...there is ONE thing Holly could do with her magic. 

Then...sure enough...Holly is allowed to leave the house with half the gold. Payment for services rendered. The fairies launch the bio bomb as Artemis and Butler and Juliet drink drugged champagne.

And THAT...is how they beat the time field and the bio bomb. By knocking themselves unconcious, they can weasel out of the time field’s effects. When the fairy recon team comes in...yep. Sure enough, no bodies lying around. Artemis has escaped. So he gets to keep half a ton of gold. 

And...well, Holly did some magic for Artemis. She cured his mother of her mental illness. And that’s the first book.

Artemis is kinda unlikable, but having Holly freeing herself basically, not being a true damsel in distress, AND her saving Butler, who’s a lot more uneasy and disliking of Artemis’s plan, makes the story engaging. Artemis may not be a nice kid you can like, but the other characters make up for that. And there’s great worldbuilding and humor, with some nice, dry wit. 

The “Artic Incident” shows that Artemis’s mom is having him see a shrink. THe issue is he doesn’t respect anybody else. Nobody alive. Sure, he respects people like Einstein and Archimedes, but nobody PRESENT. And his dad’s still gone.

...or so he thought. A video has come in. Slightly blurry. But a man is tied up to a pole in a Russian winter and a sign on him reads...Hello Son. 

...Artemis is sure it’s him. And the FAIRIES are sure Artemis has teamed up with one of the most problematic, and STUPIDEST races of all...goblins. Nasty little things who can breath fire and who are super dumb...but now they’re using human tech to attack the fair folk underground. Who else but Artemis would do it? It’s sinister, evil, clever, it’s totally him.

The joke, though, is it isn’t him  who’s sold the tech to the goblins. Holly brings him in to be interrogated by Commander Root, and the scientist centaur, Foaly, who’s a brilliant mind and who makes fascianting devices like iris cams, little cameras that can slip onto your eyes as easily as a contact lens. Artemis isn’t behind what the goblins are doing BUT...he’s willing to help find out who is...

If they help him get his dad back. Well, Root agrees. Holly at first doesn’t believe Artemis actually cares until more time goes on and she realizes “Oh, wow, he’s serious, he DOES care about his dad, he’s not as cold and cruel as I thought”. They find out though that...well...they’ve got problems. While going to Russia, and trekking through the artic to where his dad is being held...goblins attack, and their weapons have been sabotaged! Somebody on the inside has screwed them over. 

But no, it’s not Foaly or Commander Root or the like. It’s Cudgeon. He’s teamed up with the pixie Opal Kaboi, a brilliant young woman who “upgraded” all the fairy folk police weaponry...as part of a plan for Cudgeon to take over the fairy lands. He’s sold weapons to the goblins, and he’s depowered the fair folks weapons...but then he’ll come riding in, JUST in time to save them. The weapons of the fair folk will be restored, the goblin rebellion put down, and they’ll all be so grateful he saved them he’ll get into a position of power. And then he’ll make Opal Kaboi meet with a tragic accident. Maybe several. And, of course, he’ll kill off Commander Root and Holly and Foaly and those “mud men”, as he calls Artemis and Butler. Heck, all the fairies call humans mud men. Racist pricks. 

Artemis is able to help stop the rebellion. He exposes cudgeon to Opal, Butler and Root kick goblin ass, and in the end, they uphold their end of the bargain and go back to Russia to free Artemis’s dad, faking him being shot. Artemis thanks Holly...rather profusely, at that. He’s SUPER grateful. She’s given him back his family, she’s saved his life once, and she’s just an amazing woman and-

Yeaaah, it’s sorta implied he KINDA has feelings for her. And Holly’s grateful too, not just for the “helping to stop the goblin rebellion and conspiracy” thing. She had lost her finger in an incident involving a train earlier when travelling through the artic with him. A door had slammed and cut her finger off, but Artemis was able to get it back on and to use the magic ritual to heal her, meaning she didn’t have to lose her trigger finger. She gives him a gold coin that she shoots through, a trophy, and says that beneath that exterior, there’s a “spark of decency. Blow on it sometime”.

The next story has Artemis trying to be a bit more...well, less criminal. He’s got some technology he salvaged from that helmet Holly left behind at his house. He’s used the tech and made a fancy computer cube, YEAAAARS beyond anything humanity has. No, he’s not putting it on the market. Not yet. He wants a businessman, Jon Spiro, to invest in his company he’s gonna be making. He’ll keep the cube off the market, Jon Spiro can sell his stocks, and invest in a real winner. After all nobody else has this kind of tech.

Spiro, however, is like “I could just kill you and take your fancy computer here you just showed me”. And Artemis is like “Oh give me a break, I arranged to meet you in a public restaurant, in broad daylight, and with my bodyguard who’s like three times your size, you can’t threaten me.”

Well. actually...he can. Spiro had the ENTIRE PLACE filled with his assassins before Artemis arrived. All the “customers” are his men. He takes the cube and leaves Artemis to get plugged by his bodyguards. Not good! The good news is Artemis rigged a sonic grenade underneath the table and they set it off. So all the bodyguards are beaten down!

Bad news is that one of the bodyguards actually was prepared for such a thing...well, mostly. His teeth are all blown out but he’s still concious enough...to try and shoot Artemis right in the chest. 

Butler barely saves him, taking the shot, and managing to shoot THAT guy, knocking him out. But Butler...Butler’s wound is basically fatal, and he reveals his true name, Domovoi, before he goes limp.

Artemis is DESPERATE. He has only one recourse. He sticks Butler in the nearby frozen fish ice tank in the restaurant to keep the body cool, and calls in a favor, getting a cryo pod delivered to keep Butler’s body cool. He then makes a call. A public phone call...that talks about stuff ONLY the fair folk would know, all to get the attention of the fairies. And lucky him...Holly shows up. He begs her to heal Butler. 

“Please, Holly. I can’t just let him go. It’s BUTLER...”

“...alright, Mud Boy.” Holly agrees. She owes Butler, after all. He’s saved her life several times and he’s a good man. Foaly the centaur is unsure the magical procedure will work, it’s NEVER really been done before. Artemis keeping the body cool has helped, but...it’s a shot in the dark.

But...the magic ritual works. Holly heals him. But she’s also sorta...took  some of his life force. The process made him age a bit. He’s now got a beard! But, still, he’s alive.

Artemis admits what happened with the cube computer, and Jon Spiro. And the cube is SO powerful and SO beyond normal human tech, in Spiro’s hands, it’d be a nightmare for all parties. He can easily, if he cracks the code on it, find out about the fairy folk. So Artemis offers to clean up his mess if he can get some help from Holly. Commander Root says sure...if he agrees to a mind wipe. He, Juliet, and Butler. They’ll remove all memory of the People from him, he won’t remember anything about fairies and the like, and they’ll fill in the gaps since, after all, he’s known about them for several years now. 

Artemis agrees, and they come up with a plan. Jon Spiro can’t get INTO the cube. So Artemis will agree to come to him in exchange for Spiro not going after him and his family, and he’ll crack the code he put on the cube to allow Spiro to make use of it. But it’s a trick. He’s wired with some fairy tech to spy on Spiro through it all as they make a plan. He’ll “fix” the cube, crack it open...but make it so it won’t actually tell Spiro about The People. On top  of that, he knows full well Spiro wants to use the cube to get even with his rivals...

And what better way to do that than to break into their own corporate HQ with the cube and hack their security and steal all their stuff right from out of their noses? Artemis is like “I don’t think that’s a good ideaaaa” in a sort of more subtle “Stop, don’t, come back” bit from Willy Wonka. He’s COUNTING on Spiro being a “rub his face in it” type...and Spiro really, REALLY is that type. Super petty, super smug. And super screwed. Artemis and the gang manage to trap him, get the cops to show up, and they steal the cube back, with Artemis tricking Spiro handily. He even fiddled with the cameras in the facility that Spiro tried to break into to make it look like HE wasn’t even there at all!

With the adventure done, the gang has to have their memories wiped. Artemis gives Mulch Diggums, who helped with everything, the gold coin memento Holly gave him saying “it means a lot to me, and I’d like you to have it”. He also thanks Holly for everything. He has both his family and now real friends thanks to the People. He wishes he didn’t have to forget that. 

Soon, the memory wipe is done. Artemis tried to leave behind some memory triggers to get AROUND the wipe, like unsent emails, online storage, and even a time capsule buried in the yard. But...well, that gold coin he gave to Mulch the dwarf isn’t ACTUALLY the coin.

It’s a computer disc. With a few memory triggers on it. He also has a note attached to it. “Wait a few years and come find me...we’re gonna do a TON of business together”, basically. Artemis, meanwhile, realizes a short time after the mind wipe that..something isn’t right. He was washing his face...when a tiny lens fell from his eyes. A corroded contact lens with a mirrored  layer behind it. And Juliet and Butler had them too. But they don’t remember putting those lenses there...clearly, something’s up. And he’s determined to find out what. 

Meanwhile, Holly and Foaly are rather sad about wiping Artemis’s memory. They were really beginning to like him. They’re worried, too, that maybe wiping his memory has taken away all the progress he’s made. Maybe he’s back to being that cold, cruel criminal Holly met those few years ago...

Well, the People will soon end up needing him. Because the pixie Opal Kaboi, sinister mastermind and sociopathic inventor, has been faking a coma, and she’s got two servants of hers to break her out. She switches herself with a clone of her that’s brain dead to fake the coma, and she’s got a plan. She’s disguised herself as a human, the child of a billionaire environmentalist, and she’s going to make herself human...and have her dad do a special project. A project...to tunnel down into the Earth to tap into the core.

And, well...fairies live underground. The two races are sure to meet thanks to this project, and Opal is sure they’ll be war, and with her sinister technology and skills, she intends to wipe out the fair folk and have humans win, and then work her way up from there, getting more and more power so she can finally take over the world. 

Artemis, meanwhile, is engaging in some theft of a very special painting...the Fairy Thief. He’s now gonna be the youngest thief in the entire world, and as he admires the painting, he realizes something about this Pascal Herve painting. The fairy is lingering at the window because she can’t come in unless INVITED. How does he know that? 

At the same time, Holly and Commander Root are trying to track down a goblin general who was able to sneak out of prison. Root has recommended Holly to basically take over the division she’s a part of, to be, well, a commander herself. And he also wants her to know how proud he is of what she’s become. He’s become a secondary father to her after she lost her own dad twenty years back. 

...I think...you can guess what I’m going to say next. No, he’s not three days until retirement. But he and Holly walk into a trap set up by Opal Kaboi. The goblin general is wired. When Root tries to grab the goblin...a special bomb is strapped to him. One that’s messing with the electronics in the room they’re currently stuck in. Foaly, watching everything from Holly’s camera, can’t hear what’s being said, and all he sees is her pointing a gun at her commanding officer, he can’t even see the bomb because the bomb’s made of a special stealth ore. 

Root is gonna explode. But Opal says “Hey, if you shoot this ONE SPECIFIC PART of the bomb...MAYBE you’ll stop the countdownn, but you really should go off and save those mud men, because the Fairy Thief painting they’re after has a tracking chip in it. And I’ve sent a bio bomb after them to blow them up.” 

Holly is SURE she can make the shot and stop the countdown but...

...well, she doesn’t. Poor Root is violently blown up. It’s a horrifying, terrible scene. And shortly after as Holly BARRELS desperately to try and save them, the bio bomb soars at Artemis and Butler! The good news is Butler leaps out the window with Artemis, using a bed to cushion the fall.

The bad news is they barely survive. Holly manages to save Artemis, carrrying him off, intending to come back to help Butler later, he’s just WAY too heavy to carry, and after healing Artemis, and he awakens, she explains what’s going on. 

You might think he doesn’t believe her. But no, he does. He remembers the strange lenses he’d put in his eyes, and her story lines up with them. He found out shortly after discovering those lenses HE ordered them, and he could only have done so to cheat a fairy mesmer. So he belives Holly...but he doesn’t remember her one iota. 

Butler, meanwhile, is visited by Mulch Diggum, who’s broken out of prison upon hearing Julius Root is dead and Holly is suspect number one. They’re his friends...and he HAS to help them! So he’s gone to Fowl Manor...with the memory trigger disc. He plays it for Butler...and Butler remembers everything. Good thing too...

Because Opal Kaboi has just found Artemis and Holly and intends to PERSONALLY have them killed as NASTILY as possible cuz they avoided being killed by her little bombs earlier. She’s gonna have trolls tear them apart. And she rubs salt in the wound by telling Holly that hey, funny story...that sweet spot I told you about? On the bomb on Root? That I said if you shot, it’d stop the countdown? Well, there wasn’t one. I lied just to frame you. The good news is, Artemis had his phone on and was leaving a message at Fowl Manor, and Butler and Mulch heard the whole thing, so they know where Opal is gonna be sending them. And they hurry over as Artemis begins to get more of his memories back, and they try to escape from being torn apart by trolls.

Soon Artemis has his whole memory back...and he’s torn by guilt over what he did to Holly when he first met her. He feels scummy. And he also swears to stop Opal Kaboi. And he knows exactly how. 

They know where Opal is going to be because she’s bragged so much. Mulch is able to sneak onto her ship...steal the bombs she intended to trigger that would be part of her plan to damage the home of the fairies and make them even MORE vulnerable to the drilling plan her “adopted human father” was planning...and put them in her ship. In fact, right where she was keeping her chocolate truffles. Just to add insult to injury. Opal had been all “You’re so dumb if you thought stealing the bombs would stop me, I’ll just detonate them and your whole ship will blow up”. Well, Opal, they did steal them from your ship...but they just moved it to another part of the ship you didn’t think to check...

Until it’s too late. Opal’s ship blows up, she BARELY escapes to the surface...and just as her  magic has run out, leaving her stranded in Italy and forced to work in a vineyard, digging holes for grapes and the like. Artemis and the gang reunite with Foaly and explain to him and the fairy authorities what happened, and after an investigation and Commander Julius Root’s funeral, Holly is cleared. She and Mulch decide to work together as private detectives, the Fairy Folk now consider Artemis and Butler a true friend of the people, Mulch has his criminal record expunged completely, and Artemis, in a show of generosity, decides to secretly donate “The Fairy Thief” painting he stole (which,t to be fair, was taken from ANOTHER thief...) to the Louvre.

The fourth story is definitely the height of the series. Some dramatic changes, Artemis at his very best, the interplay with the gang, the high stakes...so I can recommend the series. Well, to a point. THIS point. After this, the books begin to go downhill. It just comes across as spinning  it’s wheels, and then for the last book, well...

Well, uh...see, there’s this plan Opal has to cause chaos and because a TON of her technology is now being used up on the surface world, all the technology she had friggin blows up. We’re talking stuff like dialysis machines and other medical equipment made useless. Pacemakers? BOOM! Right in your chest! Submarines no longer functioning! People on boats? Stranded! People begin looting. PLANES FALL FROM THE SKY. 

Oh but hey, at least they’re not distracted by TV anymore. No really, that’s...like, nobody really dwells on what’s clearly a horrific, apocalyptic scenario and god knows how many people died...

Look, I love the series. But I think I can best recommend it...in the graphic novel format it came in. So check those out. They go all the way, at least currently, up to the fourth book. So just read those if you can. They’re a ton of fun and super creative. :)

[beetlebitchywitch]

So hi! I wrote this fic back in December as part of a Secret Santa with the Dante’s Inferno AU crowd, and I got @neitherworld! And since some people are being RUDE and claiming self-shippers are just too cowardly to ship Beetleb@bes, here’s the fic I wrote of her OC Bambi and Movie Beej on a special night at Dante’s to show how fun of a character she is. Enjoy!

WARNING: Mild nudity, some sexy stuff, I’d say rated M but not fully NSFW

Like any normal night at Dante’s, the bass was thumping so heavily Bambi could feel it rattling her posture collar. Her eyes scanned the show floor, catching Madame’s gaze for only a moment before she was off to scold a random ghoul for getting too handsy during his lapdance. Up on the stage, Mal was winding around the pole in a way that enchanted everyone in attendance, though the way Lorelai’s wings glittered under the spotlight as she danced her famous “feather fan” number drew just as much attention. She grumbled good naturedly under her breath as she turned back to face the bar- honestly, those two had such natural moneymakers, and here she was stuck with a stupid jello neck. Whatever, her tits made up for any lack of “exotic” flavor. Speaking of flavor, the bright pink cocktail on the bartop was calling her name, set down gently by Niphera with a soft smile. Bambi squealed, bringing the drink to her lips before pausing for a moment, sending them a sly smile.

“NiNi, what’s in this exactly?” she asked, thrumming her perfectly manicured nails against the bartop. She knew how much her...electric personality could overwhelm them, so she tried her best to keep her energy to herself while holding a conversation with them.

“Nothing that will get you too drunk for your next set,” they chuckled, wiping down a glass absentmindedly. “You know Madame doesn’t like it when you perform after drinking too much.”

“Oh, what does she know?” she huffed, the cocktail sloshing a bit as she crossed her arms. “I happen to think that a little liquid courage makes my performances even better!”

“Perhaps. Or it could be like the time you yakked in a mafioso’s lap and had to use a week’s earnings to pay for his dry cleaning.”

Just the memory made Bambi pout even harder.

“Stupid prick, demon earns 20 times what I do shaking my ass by dealing in some shady shit and he has the nerve to take money outta my paycheck? And now I have to get cut off like some little baby impling.” She sighed deeply. “Whatever, this shit looks tasty anyway. Thanks, bubs.”

“Anytime,” Niphera said softly, getting back to pouring their next order of drinks. “Besides, it’s the least I could do on your birthday.”

Bambi’s eyes widened above the rim of her glass, which she excitedly put down with a beaming grin.

“My birthday? Goodness, how ever did you know about that?”

“Well, let’s see,” Niphera said with a sarcastic, but good natured bite. “Could it have been the notes under all of our pillows reminding us of your birthday? Or perhaps the sash you’re wearing right now that says ‘Birthday Girl’?”

Ok, so maybe Bambi could be a bit over the top. So she wanted a little extra attention on her special day, ain’t nothin’ wrong with that!

“Well, I’m glad my gentle reminders worked! Because today is my day and if I wanna celebrate it by getting wasted on Netherbooze and taking my top off, then that’s how I’m gonna do it!”

“Your top’s already off, Bam.”

She looked down, and then paused.

“...So it is...my bottoms then!”

With a heavy sigh, Niphera moved to the other side of the bar without a word, an unspoken cue for Bambi to leave them alone. Their relationship was odd, but Bambi did her best to make it work and respect their boundaries...most of the time. Sighing, she turned back to her drink, taking a few messy gulps and giggling when she could feel rivulets of booze trickling down her neck and between her tits. If anybody was watching her, they were sure getting a good show.

“Well hey there, little fawn. Ya sure seem to be enjoyin’ yourself.”

Bambi froze, her happy grin immediately turning to a small scowl. Of course he would be the one to show up looking for some tail and interrupting her night.

“What do you want, Juice?” she asked absentmindedly, “Can’t you see I’m a little busy?”

“Oh yeah, sure as hell can, sugar tits. I gotta admit, of all the fine specimens in this place, you sure do have the nicest rack,” he rasped, pulling out a slim cigarette and lighting it by setting the tips of his fingers on fire. He took a deep drag, holding it for a moment before letting out a hard cough, not even hiding his amused smirk when the smoke blew into Bambi’s face, causing her to break into a coughing fit. She glared up at him even as her lungs spasmed, questioning whether a slap to the face or a knee to the nuts would be more fun for her.

“Well,” she interjected, letting out her last few coughs. “You sure know how to treat a lady, don’t you?”

“Come on now, babes, I don’t see no lady here,” he said with a grin, taking another puff of his cig and thankfully blowing it behind him. “But I do see a smokin’ hot broad in need of a good time.”

“Since when do I have a good time with you?” she retorted, sticking her tongue impishly. She was exaggerating, of course- her and Beetlejuice had plenty of fun teasing and playing cat and mouse before retiring upstairs for a quickie, but tonight she was not in the mood. She was tipsy, she looked drop dead gorgeous with her tits out and smothered in body glitter, and she felt like a bad bitch, so she wasn’t about to let some shambling corpse turn her into his pet for the night. She turned back to her drink, fully intent on ignoring him completely until he went off to hump some other unlucky girl’s leg. After a few moments, when she could still feel his presence behind her, she grunted in annoyance, turning back around. “Ain’t anybody ever tell ya it’s impolite to stare, stunad?”

“Ooh, I didn’t know the little deer had claws,” he laughed, only infuriating her more. “Besides, ya ever known me to be polite? Remember who you’re talkin’ too, babes.”

God, she was getting so fed up with this conversation. She was not gonna let some lousy, rancid, good for nothin’ ghost ruin her big night. She turned her stool towards him and shot him with a withering stare, which infuriatingly only seemed to amuse him further. She was about to give her a piece of her mind when- “Well, would ya look at that. Didn’t realize I was talkin’ to the birthday girl.”

Her eyes widened, them flitting down to the sash practically crushed between her tits.

“Yeah…what’s it to ya?” she asked warily. Her and Beetlejuice had clearly never been fond of one another, so she doubted he had anything good up his sleeve for her, and goddammit she just wanted to enjoy her fucking birthday! “I swear to Satan, Juice, if you pull any funny shit I won’t even have to call Ivan, I’ll rip that pencil you call a dick off from between your legs myself.”

While she hoped she sounded even the tiniest bit threatening, she was met with a bellyaching laugh from the ghost with the most, causing her to pout and cross her arms indignantly.

“One helluva performance, dollface, but ya don’t gotta worry. Not even I would pull any tricks on a lady’s birthday. In fact…”

She watched with a difficultly admitted curiosity as he began to rustle around his filthy coat, cringing only slightly when puffs of dirt floated to the floor as he aggressively searched his multiple pockets. Seemingly finding what he was looking for, he rustled around for a few seconds more before pulling out-

Oh.

“Holy smokes,” Bambi murmured in awe, staring at the absolutely stunning diamond ring clutched between Beetlejuice’s fingertips. With a high pitched squeal, she bounced up and down on the stool, reaching out to snatch the ring from him and slide it onto her finger. “A little snug, but damn that’s one helluva rock! Juice, what-”

“Least I could do, since it’s your birthday and all, kid,” he said dismissively, looking...sheepish? Bambi smirked, grabbing onto the lapels of his coat and pulling him in close, noticing how his eyes immediately fell to her exposed tits now that there was only a foot between them, wide with shock that she was actually seemingly coming onto him.

“Is that all you wanted to give me for my birthday, BJ?” she asked sweetly, her words so laden with honey that you’d think they were in a beehive. Immediately, his demeanor flipped from shock back to his typical shtick, growling softly beneath his breath as he wrapped both arms around her waist, reveling in the softness of her skin.

“I can think of a million things I could do to that pretty little body that’d make this birthday one you’d never forget, little fawn,” he growled softly. This close, she could smell the musty dampness of him, though it never perturbed her, letting out a tiny squeal of a giggle as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Just one question, Juice,” she whimpered teasingly, letting her tongue drag lasciviously across her lower lip. She could feel the ache in him as he held her close, but it was always her MO to tease before letting him have her...if she would let him have her.

“Anything, doll,” he assured her, clutching her waist tighter with desperation. “Ya wanna go topside and wreak some havoc? Come home covered in blood and fuck while we’re all messy? Come on, babes, say the word and I’ll have ya back before Madame can notice yer gone.”

“Mm, that does sound nice,” she mused, sliding one hand down his cheek and chest before walking her fingers back up slowly, daintily, feeling his need for her increase with every gentle touch. “But BJ, I gotta know…” She cupped his jaw and pulled him in close, her lips hovering above his ear as she spoke with the softest whisper. “...Is the rock real?”

She had her answer just by the way he stiffened in her arms. Fucking cheapskate.

“Now hold on, babes, ya don’t understa-”

Before he could even finish his sentence, she was out of his arms and grabbing the last half of her drink, splashing it in his face without a care. God did it fill her with power to see him standing there, floundering with booze dripping down his skin and suit and taking a layer of grime with it. She smirked, hopping down off her stool with her typical bounciness.

“Find some other pussy to give herpes to, Juice,” she quipped happily, as if she hadn’t just threw her drink in his face. “If ya wanted a cheap slut, you shouldn’t have come knockin’ on my door...I’m keepin’ the ring though. It may be fake, but hey, so is half of me!”

And with that, she was back off to the floor, sliding up a pole without a care in the world as the crowd cheered around her, and Beetlejuice just continued to stare. She knew he’d get her back for this someday, but for now, she had to say that, either living or dead, this was the best birthday she’d ever had.

[headoverhiddles]

You and Me and The Devil Makes 3 - Marilyn Manson x Brian Warner x Reader [Smut]

Synopsis: Your boyfriend Brian is horny for you all class, but the substitute teacher, Mr. Manson, is onto you two.   

Notes: Hear me out-- it was a teacher/student au request that got out of hand in my ask box and turned into Manscest. That is all. Enjoy the shameless filthy threesome with... two of them.

Part Two

You had promised yourself you were going to be a good girl, and focus in class today. 

You're less than a model student, and sitting right in front of your boyfriend doesn't help that fact. So today, since there was a test coming up in three days, you had made the productive decision to sit across the room from him. As you all wait for the teacher to arrive, Jeordie plunks down next to you wearing a Bauhaus shirt, hair wild as usual and English books all crumpled and doodled to hell.

"Have you ever seen a turtle take a shit?" he whispers to you. You sigh. So, you wouldn't be getting anything done today either. 

Brian glances over at you from the other side of the classroom, pouting. He likes putting on a tough act, but the truth is, he's a needy motherfucker. Pogo's sitting next to him, along with Scott, or Daisy as you all call him, who's probably the only one in your friend group who actually cares about being here. You stick your tongue out at Bri in response, and he gives you the finger. Smiling, you turn back to your blank page, then look at the time. It's 5 minutes after class should have started, and Mrs. Nordman is never late.

Over on the other side of the room, Brian doodles a couple hearts with spirals in them on his page. Pogo looks over his shoulder. 

“You gonna start writing out “Brian (y/l/n) beside those hearts, dude?” he grins. Brian glares at him. 

“Yeah, right next to you deepthroating a knife.” Defiantly, the eighteen year old draws even bigger hearts, then starts sketching a mutilated corpse. 

The door opens, and an unfamiliar face walks in. Everyone keeps chattering loudly as the man walks toward the desk, and still while he writes and underlines his name on the board. He then turns around, and you get a better look at him. He's very tall, just like Brian, but has more of a fuller figure than Brian's own stick thin frame. He must be at least 20 years yours and his senior. He's dressed in a black suit, has closely cropped black hair, painted fingernails, and sunglasses on. 

Different than most substitute teachers, you note right off the bat. 

"Who does this guy think he is?" Jeordie murmurs. The song Sunglasses At Night fills your head as you watch him in amusement. He's attractive. He's got a subtle purse of his lips (which are filled in with plum colored lipstick) and fingers that are tattooed with alchemical symbols. Definitely not a run of the mill sub. You wonder what your boyfriend thinks of him.

Brian inspects the teacher, admiring his makeup. He looks great-- confident, sexy, and ready to fuck up anyone who disagrees. Everything Brian himself aspires to be. 

"What's with the makeup, man?" someone from the back of the class asks the teacher. "You into dudes?" 

The new teacher finally speaks, looking out around the class and zeroing in on his target. "Why? Do you wanna fuck me?” You smile, and hear Brian choke out a laugh. The teacher turns to him, and despite the playfulness in his eyes, asks the question. "Something funny?"

"No," Brian says calmly with a smile, "That was just a, uh. A good comeback."

The teacher's lips turn up ever so slightly as he takes in the younger man’s goth, slightly extravagant appearance. "I live to entertain." 

He turns away to the board, tapping it. "Mr. Manson. That's what you can call me. I'm filling in for Mrs. Nordman, she had a little too much fun last night and needs a day off to vomit and cry."

"You’re name’s Manson?" Pogo pipes up, "Like the serial killer?" The class laughs.

"Very good, Mr..." he checks the list, "Bier. You know your American history.”

“I’m more partial to John Wayne Gacy,” Pogo responds.

“Gacy was an interesting man. Interesting inclinations. Manson used to be my stage name."

"Stage name?" Brian is suddenly interested, setting his sketching aside. He's started a band of his own with the guys, and is interested in everything to do with music and art.

"Yeah. I used to perform.”

“Were you a stripper?” one kid snickers. Mr. Manson doesn’t seem bothered by the question at all.

“You could say that. Now and then when I'm in between gigs, I do some work on the side, which is why I teach.”

“Can you teach me how to work a pole?” a girl laughs. Mr. Manson rolls his eyes lazily over to her.

“You look like you know how, sweetheart.” This shuts her up, and a blanket of awe falls over the class.

"You can't even take your sunglasses off indoors, how can we expect you to teach us anything good?" another girl scoffs.

"A night of drugs and vodka would prevent you from taking these off too, believe me."

This gets some genuine laughs from the class, and people start to warm up to him. He’s sarcastic, witty, and seems to not really give a fuck what he says and if he’ll get in trouble for saying it. You like that. You look Mr. Manson up and down, smirking, and turn to see your boyfriend chewing on his lip ring thoughtfully. Jeordie leans in.

“Alrighty. He’s kinda awesome.”

Class starts as usual, Mr. Manson adapting to the textbook and teaching what he needs to. About an hour in, a crumpled up note hits you in the head.

I miss you.

You roll your eyes. It’s only been sixty minutes. 

Another note comes your way.  This one bounces off Jeordie's head, waking him up before it hits your desk. He reads it and snorts, tossing it to you.

Come over here and give me a blow job baby?

Bri's also drawn a little doodle of you two in the cartoon style he’s used on all his Spooky Kids band flyers, you with your mouth around his very large penis while cartoon-him leans back and smiles. It's your turn to give him the finger, though it makes you smile when you see him pouting pleadingly. 

Before you realize it, Mr. Manson comes by and plucks the note off your desk. He smirks over at Brian. 

“You sure this is proportionate, Mr. Warner?” 

Brian ducks his head shyly. “I’d like to think so.” 

“Mm. So it’s open to interpretation? All good art is.” Manson tosses the note back onto the table, and gives you a look. 

“Sorry,” you whisper to him, biting your lip.

“Nah, it’s fine. I’d be drawing pictures of my dick too, if it was that big.” You giggle.

"So you're not mad?"

"I’m never mad. Just get back to work. If I turn around and see an empty seat..." he gestures to the note, "I'll know where to look."

You spread your legs a little-- just a little. "I hope you like what you see, sir."

He just turns back to the front of the class, clearing his throat. “Remember, if anybody needs any help with anything, just come up to me. I can’t guarantee I’ll know the answer, but I’ll pretend like I do and... let you all think I’m a good teacher.”

More laughter-- a good cover-up for your comment apparently. When Mr. Manson turns his back, Brian tosses another note to you, this one missing Jeordie's head thankfully, and in exasperation, you open it. More drawings of you two in various sexual positions? You read the note.

Turn him on.

You look up at him, frowning. What? Is he actually giving you permission to get the teacher hard? Brian nods at you, and you look back to the teacher. He'd better not be planning some kind of prank. This seems different though. Brian seems to like Mr. Manson.

Well, you can't exactly deny you want to do this. There are benefits to having the same taste in men as your boyfriend, and both of you get to enjoy those.  Mr. Manson seems pretty level headed. Maybe you'd have to work for it... and the best way was to be a bad, bad girl. You look back to your boyfriend, nodding.

"Sir?" you put your hand up, waving. Manson looks up.

"Mhmm?"

"I've got a question."

You toss a note to Brian. He opens it, and reads your request. He nudges Daisy, and whispers something. Daisy reluctantly agrees, and passes one of his cigarettes and lighter to the guy next to him, who passes it over, over, over, until it reaches Jeordie.

"Thanks, but I don't smoke," he tells the girl who passed it to him, and you whack him in the thigh.

"It's for me!"

"You don't smoke."

"Just fucking go with it, Jeordie!"

He shrugs, and gives it to you. You clear your throat, and hold it between your fingers as Manson finally looks up from his papers expectantly.

"Can I go out for a smoke?"

Mr. Manson hesitates, obviously put off by the question. "You're a respectable young lady, you shouldn't be smoking." It's obvious he's being sarcastic.

"At least I’m not doing lines off my textbook.” You quirk an eyebrow in challenge, a dig at him and his assumed lifestyle outside of teaching. He sighs.

"No."

You feign offense. "No?"

"You heard me, sweetheart," he drawls, "I think it's time someone told a little brat like you no."

Ignoring the throb in your pussy you got from that statement, you keep the act going.

"Fine. If you won't let me..." You snatch the lighter, and before you can really think about what you’re doing, light your lined booklet on fire. Jeordie stares at you in shocked excitement, starting to wonder why the fire alarm hasn’t gone off yet. Stupid broken down old school’s gonna kill you all one day, probably from a prank he initiated with Bri and the guys. 

Mr. Manson's jaw clenches, but you just let the book burn, holding it up. The class is transfixed, unable to look away as you let all the paper burn. Manson isn't about to stop you, the two of you in a staring match. Finally having burned it down to ash, you drop the remains of the book right on the desk, and cross your arms, the action plumping up your breasts over your tank top. 

Manson stares at you, and takes his sunglasses off to reveal smokey, black lined eyes. "You think you're clever, huh?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Test me one more time, honey." 

That sends shivers through you, and over at his desk, Brian feels warmth travel down to his groin. He shouldn't be getting aroused watching his girlfriend talk back and flirt outright with the teacher, but both of you are so sexy. He starts imagining what it would be like fucking you while sucking Mr. Manson off.

More blood rushes down to his cock, and he looks down with a hot blush to see a growing bulge in his black jeans shorts. At least he has the leggings underneath to restrict him, but currently, it's not a great situation. He looks around, biting his lip as he takes the heel of his pencil and forces it against the base of his dick.

Then he looks over again, sees you sitting there, brows furrowed as you say something argumentative, from those soft pink lips. And fuck, Mr. Manson looks so angry, his jaw clenched. What you two could do to him... what he could do to you.

Brian suppresses a whine, trying his best to slouch even further under the desk so that he can hide his boner. He gives himself a quick rub for relief that could easily be passed off as a typical scratch, but his position is making things weird.

"Geez, man," Daisy whispers, nudging him, "At least try to stay awake in class." Brian sighs, staring at the clock and willing the hands to move. One wrong move here and he'd cum in his pants.

"Mr. Warner."

Brian's gaze shoots up. Oh no. "Yeah?" he tries to seem careless and calm in replying. Mr. Manson looks at him.

"You seem upset. You need to see a nurse?"

"A psychiatrist, more like," Pogo interjects, and any other time, Brian would tell his friend to shut the hell up, but right now he's glad for the distraction. Manson abandons the subject as a result, and turns back to his work.

You wiggle in your seat, throbbing and soaked through your panties. You want to get him mad again like that, make him really wanna punish you.

You try to think up what your grand finale should be. You can’t think, however, due to your arousal, so you get up from your desk instead. 

“Mr. Manson?”

“What?”

“Can I use the washroom?”

“You’re not gonna smoke in there and get me in trouble for letting you, are you?”

You smirk, adjusting your hair. “I don’t smoke.” As you head toward the door, you motion inconspicuously for Brian to follow. You hadn’t had him for a few days now, and after all that flirting with the teacher, you're more than a little wet. 

Once you leave, Brian shoots a spitball through a straw at Jeordie, who wakes up again, looking around. He sees Brian motion to him, and through their unspoken best friend code, Jeordie knows what to do.

“Uh, sir?” Jeordie puts his hand up, and Mr. Manson walks over. “Yes, how do you, uhh… know the difference between thee, thy, and thine in Macbeth speak?”

 While Manson is distracted, Brian makes his escape. He darts out the door, and grins to himself, sticking his hands in his pockets as he walks briskly toward the boy’s washroom. He lets his hair cover his face and fall over his Route 666 T-Shirt as he enters, hunched over, just in case there are others who could identify him. It’s thankfully empty… save for you. 

“Baby,” you smile.

"God, I wanted to get my hands on you all morning," he murmurs, hurrying over. "All I could think of was what this pussy feels like, got a fucking erection in class."

"Did you wanna jack off under the desk?" you ask, nipping at his bottom lip. He groans.

"Yeah. Need you, need to fuck you so good."

"Fuck me so we can get back quick," you giggle. He unzips his shorts, pulling down his leggings as well, and he kicks your legs apart, you facing the wall. He tugs your panties down, licking his lips, and teases your folds a little with the tip of his dick. 

“So wet, huh? All wet for me?” 

“Mhmmm...”

"What about Mr. Manson?" He leans into your ear, warm breath tingling your skin. "You really sold it back there. You wanna see his big cock, don’t you? Wanna suck on it?"

"No more than you do," you tease, and he chuckles, lining himself up.

He buries himself inside of you. "Oh, fuck yeah, baby," he groans, "Fuck, I love this tight little pussy." 

"Fuck me hard Bri, I wanna feel you for days," you moan, bracing your palms against the wall. He starts to go harder, desperate to get you both off with enough time to get back into class, but the door swings open. Brian looks back, his dick halfway back inside you, and he makes a little noise.

"What? Who is it?" you moan.

"I don't recall giving you permission to leave the class, Mr. Warner," Mr. Manson’s low, growling voice says, as the teacher crosses his arms.

"Sir," Brian swallows, "We--"

"No." The teacher stands in front of the door, keeping it shut. "Continue." You feel yourself get even wetter at the thought of the sexy teacher watching you get fucked.

“Y-you... want me to keep going?” Brian asks, voice small. Manson takes his sunglasses off once again, folding them up and tucking them in his suit pocket. His voice is calm and level, but his arousal is evident.

“That’s what I said.”

Brian slowly draws out, and pounds back in as you gasp. You hear Mr. Manson unzip his pants, the sound of clothes rustling alongside Brian's pale, slender hips slapping your ass with every thrust filling the men's washroom.

"You like watching, daddy?" you ask, grinning.

"Mmm," Manson hums, starting to stroke himself at the name. "You think it's appropriate to call me that, Miss (y/l/n)?"

"To be brutally honest sir, I don't give much of a fuck."

Manson smirks. "Good. Cause neither do I."

Brian is working up a sweat behind you, biting his lip as he pounds you as hard as he can.

"Yeah, baby," you whine, "Right there." 

Brian kisses your shoulder as he keeps going. Then he gets an idea. At first he’s a little nervous... but he knows you’ve always encouraged any fantasy he's ever had. He's sure you won't mind-- you may even like it too. "Mr. Manson?"

"Mhm?"

"C-Come and touch me?"

The professor raises his non existent eyebrows. "I could get in lots of trouble for that, Mr. Warner."

"So could we," you laugh. Manson finally saunters over with that confident swagger, and feels a hand down to Brian's ass.

"That what you want? Mm?"

"Oh god..." He presses back into the teacher, eyelids fluttering from the stimulation of his cock inside you while being fawned over by the older man.

"You want to feel daddy touch you? So pretty... such a dirty little thing... dirty little pretty boy."

“Yeah.”

“You could barely hide your hard on in class. Thought I couldn’t see.”

“Oh,” Brian moans.

“I saw your hand on your cock. You needed (y/n) bad.” Brian literally purrs, and Manson shifts his focus. "What about you, sweetheart, how you doing over there?"

"Fuck!" is all you can manage out, and Manson smirks.

"Your boy here really knows how to do the work. He's giving it his all."

"Daddy, please," Brian whines, and you don't think you've heard anything so hot in your life.

"Daddy's here," Mr. Manson growls, feeling down Brian's ass and between his legs. When he grazes your boyfriend's balls, you feel Brian go even harder, and you very nearly sob as he hits your g-spot perfectly.

"Shhh, shhh, babygirl," Manson whispers, coming over to you, "Can't have anyone come, stumble in and find us, hm?" 

"Like you?" you retort, turning your head to the side to face him, and he grins, stroking your chin.

"Like me." He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then to your lips. You open up for him, and he swipes his tongue along your lower lip, his lipstick rubbing against your skin. He lets up the kiss, and you pause to turn around, wrapping your legs around Brian as he sloppily pushes back in. You move forward to kiss your boyfriend now, all messy tongue and hot gasps. You tilt your head back in ecstasy on a particularly good thrust, and Manson takes this opportunity to kiss Brian, the two starting to make out as Brian rocks you against the wall. They finally part. “That lip ring makes it hard to kiss.”

Brian gives him a dark smile, getting off on being just as bratty as you. “I don’t live my life to please older guys like you.” Manson looks at him in amusement. 

“You in a punk rock band or something? You seem like you’d be perfect for one.” 

“I am, actually,” Brian says, running his tongue along his bottom lip, over his piercing just to make a point. 

“They’re magnificent,” you moan, rocking down on your boyfriend. “They go all out on stage.” 

“Mmm. I bet Brian fucks you nice and rough after his shows, (y/n),” Manson says. 

“Oh, he does,” you grin, “Nice and rough.” You look down and smile at Manson's hand in his pants, moving in quick, deliberate jerks. "You like what you see, sir?" you grin, and Mr. Manson growls.

"Little fuckin' troublemaker."

"I wanna see it," you moan out. Manson lifts his chin, and lifts his top up just above his belly button, revealing more tattoos on his deliciously soft stomach, and his cock underneath, the head weeping into his hand. "Keep touching it," you breathe. He doesn't break eye contact with you as he drags his fist up his hard cock, up and over the swollen head, and back down as he picks up his pace again.

It's your turn for another request, and you ask it properly, biting your pinky. "I want you both to fuck my mouth."

"Filthy," Manson murmurs, "You've got a girl who fuckin' knows what she wants."

Brian lets you down, and you get on your knees in between them. You're used to sucking Brian off, but having Mr. Manson's cock in front of you as well makes you flush.

Brian reaches for you first, grabbing your hair and shoving you down over him. You deepthroat him immediately, choking a little, and Brian keeps jerking your head back and forth by your hair, making sure you're good and used. You can taste yourself on him as you suck around the head, absolutely getting off on how rough he’s being. 

"Take it," he hisses, sneering, and you moan. Eventually, you switch to give Manson some attention. He's waiting patiently, and you're the one who holds him at the base as you slide your lips down over him.

"Mmmm. Perfect," he grumbles, "Good girl." You work him, taking him all the way down and back up, and you reach back to jerk Brian off as well. You pop off Manson, and alternate between the two. After a moment, Brian takes initiative, and takes Manson’s cock in hand with his, pumping them together as you kitten lick them both. Brian bats his eyes up at the teacher, and Manson takes over, jacking the two of them off. Brian lets out a choked out cry as he finishes over your lips and in Manson's hand, but the teacher doesn't stop. He continues to stroke your boyfriend as he encourages you to get up.

"Not outta the game yet, angel." The teacher shoots you a smirk. Brian's half hard again in minutes, and he picks you up, sensitive from his first orgasm but just as feral and desperate, long black hair plastered to his face and neck. He pushes back into you, and you bury your face in his neck, craving your building release.

"I'm... fucking close," Brian breathes. Manson saunters close again.

"C'mon, baby. That's it. Give her your load, you know you want to," he whispers in Brian's ear, grinding his own cock against the young man's ass, against the material of the black denim, "She wants you to." Mr. Manson traces your lips with his fingers, and slips them into your mouth for you to suck on. You do so gratefully, moaning. "She's a little cumslut, you know it. Aren't you, baby girl? Sweetheart's a whore, wanna get filled up like a little whore?"

"Mhm," you moan desperately. 

"Fuck, fuck!" Brian gasps, and cums deep inside you again. Manson gives a small groan, rubbing himself to completion with his free hand, and you're hit with your own powerful orgasm, riding it out on your boyfriend's throbbing cock. 

When the three of you finally stumble away from the wall, you start to realize what just happened.

"Well. That was better than study hall," you smile, taking Brian’s arm. He's still catching his breath as Manson looks at the two of you, fixing his suit jacket. He tucks himself back up into his boxers, zips his fly, and looks in the mirror. He uses a finger to clean up his lipstick a little, and puts his sunglasses back on.

"Okay, would it be too cliche of me to say I'm giving you both As?"

"Yeah," Brian grins, shoving his hand in your back pocket affectionately, "But we earned that shit."

As Manson turns back to keep fixing his makeup, he notices the twisted heart he had been doodling earlier, tattooed on the older man's wrist. Huh. Some kinda serendipitous coincidence.

[hoodoo12]

Ménage (2/13ish)

SWF, backstory, personal hurts, connection

He listened to Molly move through her kitchen, hoping to hear her talk to herself for some more info on her. That wasn't eavesdropping, not really, he told himself; she knew he was there. But she was quiet, and quickly returned with another glass, sinking down beside him again.

He accepted the refill of this not-pink-at-all-drink, raised it properly in a toast, and liked very much that she took his hand as she settled in this time.

"So, you sound like you have a lot of experience with celestials. Is it just angels? What are they like?"

"Celestials?" he asked. "You really wanna hear about them? Pompous, jealous, dickwads? It's not just angels, either . . . anything that didn't turn away from the Light calls itself a celestial, and they're all busy jerking off to their own superiority. Sometimes they like to try and herd lesser beings back to what they think is the Way. Gets 'em brownie points or some horseshit."

He took a swig.

"Is that what you were hoping to call here?" he asked, barely keeping the distain out of his voice. "They're like Jehovah's Witnesses or fucking ringworm -- you can't get rid of them once they're here."

He extracted his hand from hers and drew his blackened fingernails through her palm and to her wrist.

"I think you'll find getting me was a much better choice, baby."

Rapt, she listened, her thumb idly brushing the side of his hand; his disdain was easy to perceive, but she was fascinated nonetheless. How many humans got an opportunity like this, to hear about the afterlife, to know even tiny details about the ever-looming What Comes Next?

"You know, I don't doubt you. I'm not exactly the religious type anyway."

The scrape of his blunt, dark nails across her palm to the delicate inner face of her wrist made her heart stutter in her chest, and goosebumps immediately raised on her arm all the way up to her shoulder. Oh. That had felt far too good.

She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks again, wondering how many times this ghost had made her blush in the half hour or so he'd been in her home. Oh well. In for a penny, in for a pound. She flipped her hand over, lying it palm up on her knee, and took a long sip of her drink, draining half in one swallow.

"Do that again?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, half a smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

"This, baby?" he asked to confirm, even as he repeated the motion, first and second fingers circling in her palm, following the creases there like he was divining before dragging them to her wrist and the soft skin of her inner arm. He pulled his fingers backwards to her hand and did it again.

Without permission but with the same smirk on his face, his fingers skipped from her arm to her thigh. They were even lighter there, dragging slowly upward, even as he watched for her reaction.

If his smile wasn't enough to make her heart begin to race, the slow, deliberate drag of his fingertips across her palm certainly did the trick. There were calluses on her fingers from working in her gardens, but her palms remained soft, sensitive, and she couldn't help pinching her lower lip between her teeth to hold back a sigh. Who knew such a simple touch could have such a physical effect on her?

When his fingers migrated to her thigh, bare beneath a thin pair of cotton pajama shorts, she couldn't keep a soft moan back, shivering at the more intimate touch, sliding slowly inward. This . . . oh, it was nice but she couldn't . . . he needed to know what he would be signing up for.

"Hey," she whispered, placing her hand over his to still his progress. "This . . . look, I like you touching me. I like it a lot. But if you . . . if you want more . . . there's a few things you should know about me first."

She sighed, feeling embarrassment and anxiety creeping icy tendrils around her ribcage. "I don't . . .  I . . . um, I haven’t done this. I haven't even been kissed. This is all fresh territory for me, and there's a really big reason why."

At the hesitation in her voice and her physically stopping his hand, he cocked his head. She had let the softest moan ever escape. There was the faintest tremble to the fingers atop his. Her breath had come more quickly, and that same pretty blush had darkened her cheeks again.

He didn't want to care about her reason; she was responsive and just the fact she'd called him was arousing. He sported a bit of a tent pole behind his fly, but he wasn't all demon. He knew pain. He'd caused pain gladly, sometimes. But Molly, this woman who may had inadvertently summoned him hadn't immediately banished him, so he wasn't going to do that to her.

So he stopped.

"Everyone starts somewhere, baby," he told her, hoping it sounded more philosophical and less smarmy, and then he waited.

She was grateful that he stopped, that he didnt press his hand forward, only cocked his head in response. He even spoke gently, assuring her that everyone started somewhere, and she was grateful for that too.

"I know. If it was just the virginity thing, your hand would already be in my shorts. I wouldn’t have stopped you just for that." She took a deep breath, let it out, realizing just how long it had been since she had spoken to another person about this.

"I . . . I lost my whole family when I was fifteen. All of them. My older sister was graduating high school and my parents threw a huge party for her. Everyone came, aunts, grandparents, cousins. Everyone. I was being a shitty teenager and didn't figure they'd miss me, so I took a walk, just wanting to be away from so many people asking if I was gonna graduate valedictorian like my sister. And . . . well, I grew up in a small town in the rural midwest, which means half the town made cooking meth their day job. Our neighbors happened to be cooking that day and it...went wrong. The explosion took out half the block, including the house behind it. My house." She paused. She could get through this. "No one got out but me.

"After that, it was foster homes until I could legally be on my own. I had a small fortune in inheritance, since I was the only living relative of anyone with a will. I got a shitty apartment and stewed in a delicious mix of PTSD and survivor's guilt until I turned twenty and started putting my life back together. Got my GED and a BA in journalism. Even got a girlfriend."

A short smile curled on her mouth, but it was joyless.

"Met on an online literary forum. She lived two states away, so we were long distance for a year. She was gonna drive down to spend Christmas with me, and her car . . . hit some black ice. She was killed on impact. She was still in the closet back at home, so I only found out because her best friend found my Facebook. I couldn't even go to her funeral."

"After that, I . . .I just couldn't do it. Everyone I ever loved had died, and not peacefully. I couldn't let myself be around people. I felt cursed. I still feel cursed. I bought this house and I . . . I don't leave it. That's why you're the first person I've spoken to face to face in nearly two years." Her head hung, ashamed at her own weakness, thoughts dark with the horrible memories she has dredged up from the murk.

"Still think I'm worth the trouble?"

Oh, he had some stories about his past that would rival hers, but this wasn't the time or place for one-upmanship. He could bitterly tell her that shitty things happen to everyone, and that's life: just a series of falling down to claw yourself back up again, over and over. You did it or you didn’t, and no one’s path was the right one for anybody else.

But the deep pain he’d experienced that should’ve made him calloused and sour wasn’t quite there. Hers was different, nothing like his, and that didn’t make the deep-seated anger flare.

“So you thought calling up a spirit would give you some companionship,” he said. It was a statement, not a question. His voice dropped. “And you got me instead.”

Slowly, his fingers curled in on themselves, towards his own palm, until he was no longer touching her. Gently he extracted his hand out from under hers.

He tried to chuckle, but it came out a little strained. “Second best again.”

His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and his gaze flicked downward, away from her for a moment, until he collected himself. When he did, straightening and leaving his hand on his own knee, he was able to look at her again.

“Tell me again what you wanted from the spirit you were trying to call up. I’m no good at conversation, I cheat at cards and Monopoly, I’ve eaten my fair share of puzzle pieces. TV is okay, so long as it’s reruns of the Jerry Springer Show. I’m not really suited for the quiet life that it seems like you’ve got going here--I’m more an inappropriately physical specter, if you hadn’t noticed.

“I’ve liked being here, baby, and the drinks were nice, but you might be better sending me on my way and trying your ritual again.”

For a moment, though his eyes were downcast and his posture already shrinking back from her, Molly could see something in his eyes. Something fractured and irreparable. Raw and pained on a level she couldn't possibly begin to fathom. Then the veil dropped, the veneer smoothly tugged back into place, his voice carefully measured and cold.

"What?" It was her turn to cock her head, brow furrowing. "I don't understand, second best to who? I called a spirit and you answered. Haven't I said more than once that I'm happy you're here?"

Reining herself in before her voice got too shrill, Molly took a deep breath.

"Just like I wasn't sure what kind of spirit would answer, I wasn't sure what I'd want if they did. Different spirits have different rules." She bit harshly at her lip, tugging threads of skin loose until the spot began to bleed. "I hoped maybe we could figure it out together, but I guess I just ruined that. I want you to stay, Beej, but I won't make you. Everyone else left, so I shouldn't have assumed you wouldn't leave, too."

She shrank back against the arm of the couch, tugging her knees up protectively to her chest.

People tended to dismiss him, so that wasn't totally unexpected; it was a familiar ache. But people didn't tend to be upset that he offered to go, didn't tend to try and tuck the blame back in on themselves, and didn't tend to tell him repeatedly they wanted him to stay.

In the silence that stretched between them, he considered what she'd said. Seeing her worry her lip till the red on it wasn't lipstick, he dug around in a pocket till he found a scrap of cloth that may have been a handkerchief at one time.

"Here," he told her, shaking it out. He looked it over, reading the monogram, before offering it to her. "I can't imagine old HPL is going to mind you using this. Why the hell anyone would be buried with a snotrag is beyond me."

He left it on the cushion between them, and sighed.

"Molly, I'm sorry I'm not what you expected when you wanted someone here. But . . ." He paused and made sure she was looking at him before continuing. "None of those people in your life left you. Not voluntarily, and that's a big difference than someone choosing to go."

Now the hard part, because it was dangerous being honest; in his experience, people used it against him. "You've said you'd like me to stay. I'd like to stay too, baby. A little company and comfort? Who in their right mind would turn that down?"

His own gaze had flicked to one side, a little, but he forced it back up to hers.

Out of her peripherals, she could see him moving, and assumed he was getting off the couch to leave. So when he produced an off white square of fabric and placed it in the neutral space between them, her brow knitted in confusion. Molly reached for it; there was probably more bacteria on this handkerchief than in a public restroom, but the gesture was kind, and she held it to her bleeding lip anyway.

Hope leapt in her chest like a flame when he admitted that he'd like to stay. Unfurling from her position on the couch,  she sat closer to him, and hardly believing her daring, she lifted her hand to cup her palm against his cheek, touch light in case she needed to pull away quickly.

"I was expecting at most some kind of poltergeist, something I could feel but couldn't see. Something to make the place feel less empty. But you came through, and I can talk to you and touch you . . . honey, don't apologize because you weren't what I was expecting. This is better."

Her thumb swept over the ridge of his cheekbone, secretly hoping no moss had rubbed off on her hand. "I would . . . I would really like you to stay. You're fascinating, and fun to talk to, and cute . . ." She bit her lips out of habit, wincing as her teeth raked the tender spot. "Please."

Her feather light touch made his eyelids flutter closed. It was something he could never get enough of, something he'd never tire of. He had to actively prevent himself from pushing into her like a damn cat.

When she relayed what she'd been hoping for and at her quiet admission that she'd like him to stay, he opened his eyes again and caught her gaze. He also couldn't help drop his eyes to her grabbing her lip between her teeth again. A smile grew on his face, and he hoped it distracted enough from what was growing in his pants.

Beetlejuice twisted his head under her hand a little, planting a kiss into her palm.

"I'd like to stay too, baby," he murmured against her skin, before he lifted his amber eyes to hers again. "You expected a poltergeist, but I can go bump in the night too, you know.

"If you're interested . . ."

There was something about the way his eyes fluttered shut, lashes brushing his cheeks as her palm brushed his cheek, that made her insides tremble; odd how such a minuscule gesture could affect her entire body, could make her breath catch. And oh, when his eyes opened again, intense and pinned to her, missing not a single move she made, and he smiled. Molly wondered if she was supposed to feel this way, if it was the isolation talking or if it was normal to have your heart try to hammer through your ribcage.

His lips were cool, colder than the rest of his skin from the chilled liquor, but they left a spot of warmth behind, ticking her palm as he spoke softly against it. Her stomach did a somersault, then another when he caught her gaze again, that playful flicker alight in his eyes. How could she possibly say no?

"I am interested," she breathed, her hand pressing just a bit more firmly to his cheek, leaning closer. Her drink was set aside, her other hand mirroring its twin, cradling his face between them. Her hands ached with the need to bestow gentleness on him; he seemed to be in desperate need of it. "You . . . you can touch me again . . . if you want."

He didn't need any further invitation. The hand he'd teased her with before went back to her thigh, using light pressure to draw a line up it. He made it to the hem of her shorts, then eased his fingers under it before stopping.

He shifted his head in her palm, and put his teeth on the fleshy mound below her thumb even more lightly than his lips had been.

When she moved closer in, he finally moved out of her hand again.

"Never been kissed, you said?" he confirmed, his voice a tad lower than before. "That's a crime. You bit your lip, and I don't wanna hurt you, baby, but I do want a taste . . ."

He left that hanging in the air as he tilted his head and his mouth covered hers.

The skin beneath his fingers seemed to tremble at their passage, a soft rush of breath leaving her as those gentle fingertips slipped under the hem of her shorts, caressing her inner thigh but venturing no further. A hot flush crept down her neck at the sight of his teeth, the soft scrape of the sharp edges making her lips part. Such subtle touches, but God, the effect they had on her.

Like a peal of passing thunder, the last parting rumbles at the end of a clearing storm, his question was asked, and Molly shook her head to confirm that no, she had never been kissed, head tilted back slightly to bare a throat that bobbed in a heavy swallow. Her hands slid to his shoulders, digging slightly into the material of his suit to ground herself as he crooned to her, leaning closer, closer . . .

 tbc

[szopenhauer]

If you were one of Santa’s elves, which type(s) of toy(s) do you think you would you most enjoy making, and why? I would like to design if that’s possible?

List at least one thing you’ve done this year that could get you onto the “nice list” and at least one thing that you’ve done that could get you onto the “naughty list”. ugh...

Are you able to successfully name all of Santa’s reindeer? Which one of them is your favorite and why? oh no... Rudolph, Dancer, Prancer... I never remember names! I don’t have a favorite

Do/Did you leave out milk and cookies for Santa as a kid, or something different? Do/Did you leave out anything for his reindeer as well? What was it? nah

What are some things that are on your holiday wish list this year? Do you find yourself wanting some of the same things as when you were younger, or are you getting excited about some of the more practical gifts now? I don’t want gifts from anybody... I already got a pillow from my parents that I asked for and that’s too much I always liked both practical and not 

How is Christmas this year going to differ for you as opposed to the past few years? omg...

Did you used to write a letter to Santa Claus when you were younger? Did you mail it to the North Pole, or just leave it on the table next to his snacks? Did he ever happen to write back to you? yeah, I was living it next to the window (parapet) our class once was sending letters to “real” Santa and I got one back and one of our classmates got gifts as well and that was kinda awkward tbh

At what age did you stop believing in Santa? Did you have to be told? If not, how did you eventually come to figure it out? not sure, I just realised how unfair it all is that bullies get better things in school than me 

Do you or your family hang up mistletoe in the house as one of your decorations? When guests stand under it, are they encouraged to kiss? meh

Do you have a Christmas tree? Is it a real tree or a fake tree? Is it the typical evergreen shade or another color? How big or small is it? Where is it usually placed? Do you have more than one tree? almost my whole life we had a fake big tree, I’m against cutting fresh, artificial last for years, you can buy vintage ones as well, mine were always green, it usually stood in the living room and yes, we can have more than 1 when we wanna, lately I had my very own because we had no place for the main/grand (we left it on the balcony several times) but... now I won’t have any? unless M. wants me to bring it and decorate with me then let me know tomorrow

How do you or your family decorate the Christmas tree? What sorts of decorations go on it? (ie: tinsel, garland, lights, ornaments, candy canes, popcorn strings, etc) Are there any decorations that go under the Christmas tree as well? (ie: a tree skirt, fake snow, a Christmas train set, etc) stare bombki głównie, trochę nowych, papierowe ozdoby też i drewniane wisiały czasami, niezbyt przepadam za anielskim włosiem, mieliśmy czasem lampki i łańcuchy, a nawet watę jako sztuczny śnieg, nie przypominam sobie byśmy wieszali szyszki, pod drzewkiem rodzice czasem stawiali szopkę albo kładło się chociażby sztuczne prezenty co się je robiło z pustych pudełeczek oklejonych papierem do pakowania i obwiązanych wstążką

What do you or your family use as your tree topper? depends

Does anywhere else in your house get decorated for Christmas? Which areas and with what? I take stuff from my huge box and place around the room, my parents do the same

Do you mail out Christmas cards to certain people every year? If so, do you send one of those special holiday-themed family photo cards, or not? Is there a place in your home where Christmas cards you receive are placed/displayed for the season? not me personally, we had no family photo-cards EVER, my mom shows off bunch of ‘em in her bedroom

How soon would you consider to be “too soon” to start decorating for Christmas? Or are you/is your family the type to leave up some decorations all year round? (ie: Christmas lights left on the house, but turn them off after a certain point) przed świętem Zmarłych/Wszystkich świętych i niektóre faktycznie zostawiam na cały rok, ale minimalnie tylko te co są takie dość neutralne

[spnsimpleman]

With a wink and a smile.

Part two of Anon request series- Unknown gang daughter.  

With the strike of a match Part one of the series- read this first! 

Dean x unknown Daughter, Sam x unknown niece, badass!winchester Reader- is this a thing? Because it should be.

Word Count: 2195

Way down we go- Kaleo

Dean glared at the flickering light over the front door of the police station as he walked up the crumbling front stairs. Sam beat him to the door and held it open watching his brother scan everything with the same frown he gave the stairs. 

“Certainly not up to code, right? No way that can be safe.”

Sam’s brow rose but Dean didn’t seem to need a response as he strode toward the front desk where the only officer in the room stood with his head down writing on something. They pulled out their badges before reaching the desk clerk but the officer didn’t look up from the form in front of him. 

Dean thrust his badge onto the form, shoving the officer’s pen off the page. “Agents Collins and Gabriel. We need to speak to the officer who put out the APB on the suspected arson from yesterday,” Dean practically growled and Sam glanced at him.

The officer’s frown only deepened while glancing at the two badges, “I don’t believe we called in the feds.”

Sam opened his mouth to bring the hostility down a notch but Dean was already racing ahead, “what did you think would happen when someone in your department tacks on one of our most wanted members on that APB, huh, officer…” Dean leaned forward and squinted at the nameplate on his chest, “Simmons?”

The officer pulled back, his confusion hidden quickly behind a mask of indifference, “Detective Briggs can help you. Gutierrez already went home for the night.” He stepped back, turned, and walked through a door behind him.

Dean didn’t bother to wait, going around the desk and heading for the door once it swung shut. Sam grabbed his arm, “we want them to cooperate, what is up with you?”

“What? You’re the one who said this kid needed our help.”

Sam’s brow shot up, “and pissing these people off is going to help?”

Dean sighed, “I’m tired and I want to get this over with. This kid is not going to want anything to do with us and I don’t know what the hell you want me to do.”

Sam looked up at the ceiling, his jaw clenching for a moment before he looked back to his brother. “Take it down a notch and let’s see if we can actually get some real information from these people. At least, see if this girl is just being pigeoned holed or if it’s something else? Is that too hard for you?”

Dean scoffed, stepping toward the door again but froze when it opened and a female detective walked out in a wrinkled pantsuit that flattered not only her dark skin but also her figure. She glanced between the two of them lacking the attitude the desk officer held and Dean grinned. She gave them a tired smile and held out her hand, “Collins and Gabriel?” Dean shook her hand and Sam followed, “sorry fellas, but she was just released. I wasn’t aware there was a high-level target on the girl’s record.”

Sam coughed, “well, not quite a high level, but we get notified when things like that pop. We were in the area so our supervisor wanted us to check it out.”

“I thought all her guardians were deceased, well, besides the foster home she fled?”

“Those Winchesters have surprised us before. Could be relatives to this girl, can never be too sure,” Dean smiled and relaxed, slipping his hands into his pockets.

Sam kept his annoyance under his false smile, “anyway, what are your thoughts on this girl? She’s got quite the record.”

She looked at Dean first then Sam before sighing and crossing her arms over her chest, “honestly, I think the APB was thrown out a little quick on this. My personal belief is that girl might have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but that’s what happens when things get too close to a certain part of town and there’s any kind of tie to one of the gangs. I’m sure you know how it is in cities like this. Overworked and underpaid but the city still wants quick results when it comes too close to a certain side of town.”

Dean nodded with raised brows, “oh, we know.” She chuckled and Sam rolled his eyes.

Sam tried to give Dean a cool it look but his brother didn’t take his eyes off the detective, “Detective Briggs, do you mind if I ask how long you’ve worked here?”

She tore her gaze away from Dean and gave Sam a small nod, “I transferred two years ago. The chief has been trying to pull in new officers for the past five years. Ever since the budget cuts started. He thought getting some fresh eyes in here might help with these kinds of things. You get officers that jump the gun and just want to get some of the cases closed and out of the way.”

“And that’s what you think happened here?”

She glanced over her shoulder and thought for a moment before meeting his gaze again, “some of these street kids just need an advocate, you know? The young ones are told to take the fall for something so the real aggressors aren’t taken out of the game and youngin’s don’t get as much time but that kinda thing stays with them. The gangs don’t care and these kids fall through the cracks. Was that girl in the area of that fire? Yes. The ash was all over her. Was she the one who started it? I don’t know but I can guarantee you this wasn’t her idea. She sat there for hours and I didn’t see a guilty kid, I saw a girl who’s been blamed for things so many times she’s just waiting to be charged and done with it. My partner didn’t feel the same and tried to get her to pin it on her boss. I’m not a fan of sending a kid in to do a cop’s job.”

“She’s twenty years old,” Dean said, his disbelief clear.

“Did you know exactly who you were at twenty years old? This girl has been in foster care since she was twelve and on the streets since she was sixteen. She’s been pushed around by who knows how many people who were supposed to take care of her.”

“You seem pretty intent on protecting this girl,” Sam wondered aloud.

She searched Sam’s face for something and then nodded, satisfied at whatever it was she found, “I believe in innocent until proven guilty. I grew up in a city like this not too far from here where that wasn’t the case with most. I also take the time to look deeper before I slap a charge on a kid. She got her first arrest less than a year after being shuffled into this side of the city before then she was an ace student living with her mother and stepfather without a single issue on her record. But that’s just me.”

She walked around Dean and leaned back against the desk, “my partner, on the other hand, thinks she’s an ace student that turned into a criminal mastermind. He’s been around longer and has arrested her before. The gangs do like to get them young and train them to be exactly what they want them to be.” She shrugged, “either one of us could be right.”

Sam caught Dean’s frown at the same time his phone vibrated in his pocket. He gave the detective a nod, “thank you for your time, Detective Briggs.”

She smiled and turned to Dean who held out his hand to shake hers again. Sam walked away and had already gotten back to the car, pulled out his laptop, and turned it on by the time Dean made it outside.

Dean looked over at the screen, “what is it?”

“Thanks to Charlie, I’m looking at your daughter’s arrests. We’re going to check out some of these spots and see if we can find her.”

Dean was looking around with wide eyes, “you wanna keep that down. Sheri seems to have a damn good handle on the whole protecting the innocent thing.”

Sam paused and turned to his brother, “Sheri?”

“What?” He smirked, “she also said she’d keep us up to date on the case.”

Sam rolled his eyes and turned back to his laptop, “we’re splitting these up and we’re going to talk to her before we leave. A few of these places they arrested her for loitering. Probably hoping to catch her on possession or distribution but she’s smart even if she was running with the wrong crowd.”

Dean snorted, “like we’re the right crowd?”

“Better than this.” He waved at the screen filled with her arrest records.

Dean shook his head, “whatever you say, Sammy. Let’s get this over with, I’m starving.”

~~

Dean walked down dirty streets glancing into alleyways as he passed trying to imagine a girl from a good home being thrown out here. What if he and Sammy lost everything in the fire and got thrown into a place like this? He always felt more at ease hunting than trying to do the normal thing. Wouldn’t be that far of a stretch to imagine doing the same things with a gang. Except for drugs and killing people.

He shook his head. What did he know? Maybe he’d see other people as monsters if he grew up around crazy adults that taught him to see it that way.

Who the hell was he to judge anybody?

A dark-skinned boy glared at him from a relaxed stance against a light pole up ahead. The kid couldn’t be older than sixteen. Dean nodded as he passed him.

The kid sneered, “keep moving, old man.”

He shook his head and continued forward. That kid was too young to be out here but Sheri’s words played again in his head. He imagined the girl from the APB picture leaning there, doing the same thing. That girl wouldn’t want anything to do with him. What the hell was he supposed to say?

Hey, I’m the dude from that arrest record. The one they tacked on to make you appear worse. Sorry. Life sucks, right?

He shook the image away and cursed himself for allowing Sam to guilt trip him. Familiar sounds of a scuffle came from the next alley up and he slowed down until he stopped in the mouth of it.

A big guy on top of a girl on the ground, obviously trying to pull at her pants. Dean stepped into the alley, the shout on the tip of his tongue when he froze. She lashed out and moved away so fast, the man’s cry easy to assume she used more than just her fist. Words were exchanged but he couldn’t hear them, he moved further into the alley then the man was jumping on her again but his shriek this time is louder. The man fumbled back and she said something he couldn’t hear over the adrenaline rushing through him.

She turned toward him and started walking.

“That’s right! Walk away, bitch,” the man on the ground shouted.

“What a dumbass,” Dean murmured but still didn’t make a move. She was facing him but he wasn’t sure she could see him. Not with all these burned out lights and nothing but some murky light coming from the other end of the alley.

She turned and moved back to the guy on the ground speaking low enough again that he couldn’t make out the words. She stomped her foot and swung her leg at him but it didn’t look like her foot connected. The guy howled but something was wrong about it.

A shiver ran down Dean’s spine.

She turned and walked away from the guy, nothing stopping her this time.

As she closed in on Dean, some of the light coming from a window smudged with dirt and grease from his side of the alley bathed her face and he stiffened. She looked him up and down, a scowl quickly covered by nonchalance. “Don’t stare, old man. It’s not polite.” Then with a smirk, she winked, “oh and pro tip, around here that’ll get you gutted.”

She sauntered away and Dean pulled out his phone, stabbed the speed dial number he needed, and brought it to his ear as he turned around and stepped out of the alley and onto the sidewalk.

“You find anything?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, and I don’t think that picture idea is a good one anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“Flashing her picture… you were right. Maybe not because of…”

“What the hell is going on?”

“I don’t think she needs our help, Sammy. This… woman can take care of herself.”

“That doesn’t mean she has to. I’m not leaving here until we talk to her.”

Dean glanced down the street and caught a glimpse of her under a barely surviving street light. “I might be able to follow her. Head down towards fifteenth. She’s passing a flickering light post on twelfth now. I’ll text any changes in direction.”

Part Three- With a flick of my blade.

Taglist: I see you! @thefaithfulwriter , @dalia-artistik , @justkending

[kiddoryder]

Kidnapping an Angel

Blitz and Sophie McNight and Ryan O’Grady belong to @loli-momo1908

 Inside of Hell, there was a demon who have pale green skin, reddish brown hair, red eyes with iris, wearing dark green coat with slightly pale pine green pants and a shirt under his coat and having a tail with spikes and an axe blade on the end of his tail. He was known as Ryan O’Grady aka the Evil Eye Killer. He  was the one who murdered Blitz and Sophie’s parents 4 years ago. Right now he was at an abandoned factory trying to think of a plan to get revenge on his arch enemy’s son.

 Ryan – “There’s gotta be something or somebody that I can use! I could use his baby sister…But that’s too obvious. Besides, what’s so bad about saving the best for last? Hmm...”

Ryan began to past back and forth until he stepped on a piece of paper. He picked it up and saw that it was an old newspaper clipping of the Happy Hotel.

Ryan – “I know this…I seen it on the TV with that stupid bitch of a Princess advertise.”

Ryan looks at the back of the paper and saw a phone number and it was Angel Dust’s phone number. At first, Ryan looked disgusted but then remembered who he is.

Ryan – “I see that drag queen bastard with Blitz before…*realized something* I got an idea! *laughs*

()()()()()()()()()()()

Right now at the Hotel, everybody was just relaxing and doing their own thing. Then a letter slipped under the door and Charlie’s youngest cousin Sonya noticed it and picked it up. Sonya saw that it said, “To Blitz” and said:

Sonya – “Blitz you got a letter.”

Blitz – “Really? Let me see.”

Blitz took the letter and opened it. The note said:

“Hey kid. It’s been four years since we last seen each other with your parents that night ain’t it? Guess what? I’m going to take away the most treasured person you loved most. I’ll be so looking forward on seeing you watch helplessly as I tortured your loved one then, I’ll be killing you…See you soon kid.

Signed

The Evil Eye Killer

Blitz’s eyes widen in horror and had a frozen look on his face. Even his hands were shaking in fear. This makes Charlie and the others look at Blitz in concern.

Charlie - *concern* “Blitz, are you okay?”

Angel –“Yeah it looks like you saw something horrible.”

Blitz even began to pant a bit before he ran off saying “Sophie!” making Charlie and the others shock.

Charlie – “Wait Blitz! What’s wrong?”

Blitz - *stopped and turn to Charlie and the others* “I have to keep her safe! That monster is coming to get her!”

Vaggie - *confused* “What? What are you talking about?”

Blitz – “Look, I can’t talk right now! I gotta get  Sophie and be sure HE doesn’t kidnap her!”

Blitz ran upstairs and quickly opened the door to his sister’s room. Luckily for him, he saw that Sophie was napping in her bed much to Blitz’s relief. He pulled up a chair and sat by her side. Charlie and the others witness this and feel confused and concern for Blitz.

Angel – “Well that was weird.”

Then Angel felt  vibrating noise and check his phone and it said: “Hey Hot-stuff! I wanna have a fun time with you today. Meet me at 325 Devil Street. Don’t be late!”

Angel – “Oh look like work is calling me. Be right back!”

           Before anybody can protest, Angel already left the hotel. However what he didn’t know is that a shadow of a certain serial killer was watching over Angel and grinned evilly with his wicked plan had already began. Angel made it to 325 Devil Street and looked for whoever texted him for his “services”. 5 minutes had past, and Angel decided to get some drugs at the vending machine since he was getting bored. When his usual cocaine bag came out there was also a note next to the bag of cocaine.

Angel - *confused* “Huh? What the?”

Angel took the note in one hand, and the drug in his other hands. He opened the note and he read it:

Angel - *reading it* “Since you are the one, he loves, you will die tonight. *confused*  What the hell do that even means?”            

           Just then, all of a sudden, one arm held Angel from behind as the other hand with a handkerchief containing a knock out drug covered Angel’s mouth. Angel tried to struggle free but with the drug began to take effect, Angel began to woozy and was knocked unconscious by the drug and fell limp in the arms of arms of Ryan O’Grady! Ryan grinned evilly as he got his victim and he slunged Angel over his shoulder to carry him away for his plan.

Ryan - *laughs evilly* “Phase 1 complete. Now phase 2.”

()()()()()()()()()()

           Angel was starting to wake up but still a little woozy. But he noticed that he was in some abandon factory and was actually tied to a pole. He tried to speak but it just turned out muffled and saw in a puddle that there was duct tape on his mouth. Angel was then greeted by a punch in the face by Ryan. Angel’s eyes widen in shock on who kidnapped him, and the murderer Blitz was talking about.

Ryan – “Well looks who is awake. By the look on your face I can your so call ‘lover” have already told you about me, like how I murdered his and his dear sister parents? Well guess what? I love every second of doing it!”

Angel had an angry and horrified look in his eyes. He can see how evil and sick Ryan can be and see he’s not the type of guy to be messing with.

Ryan – “You wonder why I kidnapped you? Well you see, I thought kidnapping his baby sister was a bit too obvious and too easy. So I figured why not kidnapped the person he’s in love with? The answer was you because it was pretty obvious on how you two are close. Which is disgusting. Kidnapping and killing you will be fun but seeing the look on Blitz’s face seeing your dead body and too depressed to even live will be even more fun.”

Angel had an angry look on his face but then muffled shouted in pain when Ryan gave him a hard punch in the stomach.

Ryan - *threating*  “And I suggested that you stay tied and don’t move and be the good little slut puppy you are, or else things will end up deadly! And word of advice, don’t leave your phone number at random places.”

Angel eyes widen: Ryan was the one who sent him that text and the one who knocked him out. When Ryan left, Angel looked around and tried to find anything that can help him escape or send a message to Blitz for help. Luckily for him, he happened to find a sharp piece of glass that wasn’t that far away from him. Thanks to his long legs, Angel managed to step on the glass and bring it closer to him. He uses his foot to flip the glass in the air, and he caught it with one of his hands. He began to use the glass to cut the rope and then he was free and even remove the duct tape from his mouth. Angel saw the doors and began to run toward it, but then he was shot on the back and he fell on the ground with a burnt mark on his back. He looked and saw Ryan with his gun.

Ryan – “Tsk tsk. You just had to follow just one simple rule. Too bad that I would have to end you now.”

Angel - *wincing as he was getting up* “I like to see you try motherfucker! How about we fight mano y mano?”

Ryan – “Wow. That’s coming big from Blitz’s boyfriend. But I supposed beating you down will be even more fun.”

Angel growled and ran to punched Ryan, but Ryan grabbed Angel’s wrist and simply threw him on the ground. Angel got up and tried again but this time, Ryan gave him a hard punch in the face that made Angel go against a crate of boxes. Angel stood up and looked angrily at Ryan who was doing a smirk at him.

Angel – “You called that a punch? My father punched harder than that!”

Ryan - *laughs and rubbing his knuckles* “You should’ve just cooperated with my plan tried to escape or stupidly tried to fight me, you wouldn’t be in a physical mess. I know that pathetic rat with wings love you deep down and it’s a shame he wouldn’t have a chance to tell you that, when I’m through with him, then you, and then, his baby sister who is weak and pathetic like her brother.”

Angel - *angrily* “Why you bastard!”

           Angel ran and actually managed to punch Ryan in the face which did knocked him down a little. Ryan was shocked because only strong demons like Blitz, can actually land a punch on him. No demon like Angel ever had the strength to actually physically harm Ryan.

Angel – “You’re just jealous because Blitz is more of a man then you will ever be! You may lie to yourself that you are better than Blitz, or Sophie or even their parents. But I know the truth about you: the truth about you is that you are nothing but a fucking coward!”

Ryan - *glaring angrily as he got up* “SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

           Ryan ran toward at Angel and slapped him hard on the right side of his face, which made him fall on the ground. Then Ryan kicked Angel on the stomach hard as he watched Angel rolled over towards another crate of boxes. Then he walked over and knelt down as he roughly placed his hand on Angel’s head to keep him pinned down while apprehending his four arms. Angel was wincing in pain even when Ryan was digging his nails into Angel’s skin, but he didn’t want Ryan to hear it, so he stopped.

Ryan – “You don’t know anything about me or what their father did to me, when I was alive years ago….And once your precious hero comes to the rescue, I’ll be making you watch as I slaughter the fucking life out of him! *grins evilly* and then, after that, I’d be happy to have you join him in a merciless death.”

Angel – “The real tortured is that a coward will be the one who will kill me! The most fun I’ll have is watching Blitz beating the living crap of you cause that what you are too! A piece of crap!”

Ryan – “I wouldn’t get too cocky, you little shit!”

He lifted Angel up by the bow tie, and threw him across the factory, seeing him crashed yet again into another crate of boxes that shattered into pieces. Ryan walked toward him.

Ryan – “Tell me, if I were a coward, how come that little runt with wings ran away from me with his sister 4 years ago? Ohh, that’s right. He’s been hiding like a sick scared bitch all this time after he saw me put an end on his dear parents. Does that make him a “man” by cowering in the shadows all this time? He’s a poor weakling sap, just like you are.”

Angel weakly got up and wince in pain and saw that his first left arm was broken. He was in a lot of pain and beside the broken arm, Angel can feel and see he got a lot of cuts and bruises on him. Even his clothes, bow tie, and gloves had some holes and torn apart. However, despite being in pain, Angel refuses to give up and let Ryan talk bad or hurt Blitz.

Angel – “You shut up about him! You’re a hypocrite too! If you are so tough, then why aren’t you fighting him now? Ohh, that’s right, you are basically using me as a shield! Plus killing his parents four years ago prove that you are a poor weakling sap because you were too afraid to fight back! At least Blitz is a braver guy then you are!”

Ryan was getting angry again that he was being mocked and talked back to by a demon like Angel Dust. He could have killed him quickly with gun like he originally planned, but then thought: why not beat Angel into a bloody pulp? It would be much for fun and seeing Blitz’s reaction, Blitz would be too depressed to even fight back and easier for Ryan to kill him. Then Ryan kicked Angel on the stomach, which made him fell on the ground again.

Ryan – “You’re an arrogant fool. No wonder why your daddy never loved you at all. At any time when the son of my arch enemy arrives to the rescue, it’ll be the last time you’ll be seeing him alive. Why don’t we have more fun huh? Let even make this fight a challenge.”

Ryan then puts a blindfold and muzzled on Angel and continued to beat him up. But Angel continued to fight back despite being in horrible pain. He doesn’t want to let Blitz down.

()()()()()()()()()()()

           Back at the hotel, Blitz, Charlie, Vaggie and Sonya was getting ready to protect Sophie. Blitz and Charlie got their powers ready, Vaggie got her knifes, and Sonya got out her spell books.

Charlie – “Ok so Vaggie got the weapons out, Me and you got our powers, and Sonya got her books ready for the most powerful spells she knows.”

Sonya – “I even got the big guns ready!”

Sonya pointed to Liz in shadow form who did a slasher smile.

Vaggie – “So, in case that bastard even dares to take one step into the hotel, we’ll be ready for him.”

Blitz – “Thank you guys so much. You have no idea how much I appreciate your help.”

Charlie – “Well of course Blitz we are your friends. We will do anything to protect you.”

Sophie – “Big Brother, what’s going on?”

They turned around and saw Sophie who awoken from her nap. She was holding her stuffed dog in one  hand and rubbing her eyes with the other hand. Wanting to tell his baby sister the truth, Blitz kneeled down to Sophie’s height level and said:

Blitz – “Sophie listen to me, there’s a monster out there and he’s planning to take you away from me. But don’t worry, me, Charlie and the others are going to keep you safe at all cost. We won’t let anything happen to you. We promise.”

Sophie – “Oh thank you Blitz!”

Sophie hugged Blitz knowing that her big brother and their friends will protect her. However, Sonya noticed another letter slipped through the door. Sonya picked it up and it had Blitz’s name on it.

Sonya – “Blitz you got another letter.”

Blitz – “What? Another one?”

Blitz took the letter from Sonya and began to read it:

“Hey there kid. Guess what? I’ve just caught the one you truly love, and it isn’t your sister. If you want to see your dear friend alive, meet me at the abandon factory at 652 Vile Street You better show up alone or else he dies, and you will be next. See you then.”

Signed

The Evil Eye Killer

           At first, Blitz had a confused look on his face.

Blitz - *confused* “Truly love? What the hell is he-“

Blitz eyes began to widen in shock and horror. He realized who Ryan was referring to.

Blitz – “Oh God no…”

Vaggie - *concerned* “What? What does it say?”

Blitz – ‘….That son of a bitch kidnapped Angel!”

All – “WHAT?!”

Vaggie – “As much as I get annoyed by that slutty asshole Angel, even I would never want anything bad like this happened to him.”

Sophie – *worried and sad* “What are we going to do?”

Charlie – *worried* “How are we going to get him back!?”

Blitz looked at the letter as he soon thought with his eyes closed for a moment. As dangerous and risky it’s going to be, he won’t stand by and let Ryan kill the one person he truly loves that isn’t his sister. He stared at his friends with a serious glare on his face.

Blitz – *seriously* “The letter said I have to go alone, then that’s what I have to do for Angel.”  

Charlie - *worried* “Blitz are you sure? I mean we go with you to save Angel.”

Sonya – “You heard what the letter said cousin Charlie we can’t! If we do, he will kill Angel and Blitz.”

Blitz – “Sonya is right Charlie, if any of you follow me, Ryan will kill Angel. And I can’t risk that. Stay and watch over Sophie for me.”

Blitz began to walk off towards the door. Then Sophie said with a sad and worried look on her face.

Sophie – “You will come back with Angel…right?”

Blitz halted before he looked back at Sophie with an assuring smile on his face.

Blitz – “Don’t worry kiddo. We will be back in one piece, I promise.”

Blitz gave his baby sister a hug and then he exists the hotel. He took a few steps and opened his wings and flew off to meet with his arch enemy at the abandon factory to rescue Angel Dust.

()()()()()()()()()

           At the abandon factory, Angel Dust was now on the ground in terrible pain. He had more cuts, and bruises on his body. Sadly, he wasn’t strong enough to fight Ryan and it was tough to see with the blindfold and muzzle on him. Angel did try to sit up but was punched in the face by Ryan again.

Ryan - *glaring at him with arms crossed* “Did I tell you to get back, up bitch? Honestly, if you hadn’t tried to fight me or escape the moment you woke up, I wouldn’t have hurt you. Although, you do have the guts to keep on fighting me and get a few hits here and there. So I can respect that.”

           Angel weakly got up and ran toward him despite being blindfolded. Ryan simply grabbed his face and slammed him down on the  ground hard.

Ryan – “Unless you want me to kill you now, ya better stop fighting your worthless piece of crap!”

           Angel just mumbled a “fuck you!” which made Ryan angry and he slammed Angel’s head on the ground three times hard. Then he took out the gun in his pocket and aimed it at Angel’s head.

Ryan - *sighs* “No matter anyways, caused whether your precious “boyfriend” comes for you or not, I can’t wait to see the looks on his pitiful face, when he sees you lying dead. Then, I’ll have him join you shortly.”

Angel tried to fight back but was too much in pain. Even with the blindfold, he felt like he was going to pass out. Before Ryan can pulled the trigger, there was a loud crashed into the factory. Blitz had burst through the window.

Ryan - *shocked* “What?!”

Blitz flew forward with amazing speed with his fist reeled back as it flared in a blue magical glow and then, slammed a powerful punch at the serial killer’s face that sent him flying and crashed onto a couple of crate boxes, saving Angel just in time. Blitz landed carefully on his feet and his eyes widen and gasps in horror seeing Angel badly hurt, muzzled, and blindfolded. Blitz took off the muzzle and blindfold and Angel’s eyes were closed and wasn’t moving. At all. Blitz knelt down and carefully lifted Angel’s into his arms. Blitz didn’t even care that Angel’s blood was staining his arms and shirt.

Blitz - *worried and concerned* “Angel? Angel are you alright?! Answer me!”

But not one sound was coming out Angel’s mouth. Not even a moan. This made Blitz even more worried and tried to wake Angel up by gently patting his cheek. But no sound out of Angel. Then blitz began to shake Angel to get him to wake up.

Blitz – “Come on Angel, wake up! Angel look at me please!”

           Blitz stopped shaking Angel awake seeing that it wasn’t working. Blitz began panting but he tried to keep himself calm. However, some tears are starting to form in his eyes as he held Angel in his arms.

Blitz – “Don’t you dare die on me, you fucking slut! Do you hear me!? *panting* Come on man. You gotta wake up…I’ll never forgive myself if I lose you man…You may be a pain the ass at times, but I…I really need you in my life in Hell, okay? I’ll even miss you calling me…*he bites his lips for a second before he took a deep breath and said something he hates* “Blitzy-Que”…Please….Just don’t die on me.”

Blitz held Angel’s body closer to him as he rested his head on Angel’s shoulder carefully. He let a few tears drop on the ground and on Angel’s shoulder. Then he heard coughing and weak laughter.

Angel - *weakly* “Heh…I knew…You love…That nickname…Blitz Que…*coughs*”

           Blitz opened his eyes wide and looked to see Angel was awake with his eyes half closed and was weakly smiling. Tears of joy fell on Blitz’s face.

Blitz - *ecstatic* “Angel!? Oh, thank God that you’re alive!!”

           Blitz carefully hugged Angel due to the many injuries he has. Angel use his second pair of arms to weakly hug Blitz back.

“How Sentimental….”

           After hearing that voice, Blitz and Angel turned and saw Ryan coming out from the pile of shattered crate boxes. He had blood coming from the right side of his lip when he was punched and drew his gun out, pointing at both of them.

Ryan – “To bad I gotta put an end of this and you both.”

           Ryan began to shoot his gun at the boys. Blitz carried Angel in his arms and began to fly while avoiding the bullets from Ryan’s guns. He was trying to figure out a way to get away from the psychopathic killer and get to safety with Angel.

Angel – Blitz I…Can’t believe….You would…Save my ass…*coughs*

Blitz – “Hey, I always come and get you out of trouble.”

           Blitz then noticed a weak of the support beam of the building. This gave Blitz an idea.

Blitz – “Hang on!”

           With speed of flight, Blitz made his right foot flared in blue magical glow and twirled around fast and deliverers a powerful kick at the support beam’s weak point. The magical powerful kick caused the beam to break in half and causing the abandoned factory to start collapsing. Blitz managed to fly out of there with Angel in his arms but as for Ryan, he tried to find his way out and escape until the top of the building collapsed and started to fall towards.

Ryan - *eyes widen* “OH SHIT!”

           Outside of the abandon factory, Blitz flew out of its distance with Angel in his arms. They both saw the abandon factory with collapsed with Ryan still inside. Blitz sigh in relief that he managed to recuse Angel.

Angel - *weakly* “Mmm…Thank you…Blitzy Que.”

           Angel then passed out from the pain and injuries he has. His body felt limp in Blitz’s hands much to his concerned.

Blitz – “Aw shit...Hang on Angel, you’re going to help right now!”

           Blitz began to fly in the sky fast to get to the hospital for Angel to get recovered. Less than 10 minutes, he saw Hell’s Hospital and quickly flew down and kicked the front door opened ran toward the front the front desk carrying an unconscious Angel Dust in his arms. He told the front desk who was looking uninterested and painting her nails.

Blitz – “Where’s the doctor!? I need them now!”

Front Desk Clerk - *bored* “Look you can’t just come in here and demand something! I’m busy doing my nails and-“

Blitz - *grabbed her by the shirt* “I don’t give a shit about your nails! He’s badly hurt, and you better get the doctor or else I’m killing everybody in this crap hole!”

Clerk - *scared* “Y-Yes sir!”

The clerk pressed a button and a doctor came out. First, he only saw Blitz and looked annoyed.

Doctor – “Clerk you know I only take in worthy demons-“

However Blitz turned around, and the doctor saw he has an injured and unconscious Angel in his arms. The doctor gasps in shock.

Doctor – “Hey that’s the mobster and porn star Angel Dust!”

Blitz – “Yes! He’s badly hurt! Help him now!”

Doctor – “Alright! You’re lucky Angel is an important figure in Hell. I only help those that I think they are worthy.”

           The doctor pressed a button on the wall and two nurses came out with a stretcher. Blitz gently put Angel down and they began to wheel him. Angel weakly opened his eyes halfway and the doctor put an oxygen mask on face. Angel closed his eyes again, and opened them seeing that he was still on the stretcher but saw that Blitz was there holding his hand saying:

Blitz - *tears coming down his face* “Angel…You’re going to be okay...You better not die! You hear me!”

Angel – “Mmm…Blitzy…”

           Angel lost consciousness again and it made Blitz more worried. Then Blitz stopped when one of the doctors block his way and the rest of them kept wheeled Angel into the hall.

Blitz – “Get out of my way! I need him!”

Doctor 2 – “Sorry but rules are rules. Beside they are wheeling him to the operation room.”

Blitz - *shocked* “Operation room?”

Doctor 2 – “Have you seen the injuries he has? He will need surgery, so he won’t die. Again. We will make sure to keep you in tact on what is happening.”

Blitz - *sighs* “Fine…”

Blitz went to the waiting room area and sat down one of the chairs. He saw the phone and wanted to call Charlie to let her know where is and Angel’s current condition. Before he began to dial, he saw one of the doctors holding Angel’s clothes and was about to throw it out in a trash can. Blitz quickly pinned the doctor to the wall.

Blitz - *mad* “What do you think you are doing?”

Doctor 3 - *scared* “Oh u-um we usually throw patients clothes either before or after surgery. Or if we just feel like it.”

Blitz – “Those are Angel’s clothes and don’t belong there! Give me his clothes.”

Doctor 3 - *scared* “B-but-“

Blitz - *threatingly* “I said give me. The. Clothes. Now!”

The doctor did what he was told and gave Angel’s clothes to Blitz and left to the surgery room. Blitz sat back down and sadly looked at Angel’s clothes. It was torn, had holes and stained with Angel’s blood. Not wanting to think of Angel not surviving the operation, he picked the phone to call the hotel.

()()()()()()()()()()()

           At the hotel, Charlie and the others were worried about Blitz and Angel’s since half an hour had passed. Then the phone began to ring, and Charlie quickly picked it up.

Charlie – “Hello Blitz? You found him! He’s what…Oh no…We will be right there! *hangs up* Guys we gotta go to the hospital now!”

Vaggie – “Why, what happened!?’

Sophie – “Did Blitz get Angel back?”

Sonya – “Are they both okay?”

Charlie – “Blitz is okay, but Angel is badly hurt!”

Vaggie - *shocked* “What!? We gotta go to the hospital now!””

           And so, Charlie and the girls exist the hotel as they ran into the limo, gotten inside of it, and then they drove off straight to the hospital. Then they made it at the hospital and saw Blitz in the waiting room era looking scared and sad at the same time.

Charlie – “Blitz! Where’s Angel Dust? Is he ok?”

Blitz - *sighs* “The doctor said that they’re taking care of his injuries now in the operation room, but…I just hope he’s okay…*placed his hands on his head, lowered his head and growl in frustration* UGH!! Damn it! Why….Why is this happening?! I should’ve come sooner and stop that bastard from hurting him….This is all my fault….”

The girls felt bad for Blitz seeing him so upset. Vaggie sat down next to him and:

Vaggie – “Hey, hey, listen to me Blitz, none of this is your fault. It’s that Evil Eye Killer’s fault. He was the one who planned this.”

Sonya – “Yeah I mean he’s the one who hurt Angel, not you.”

Charlie – “Even though Angel did come out hurt, you still managed to save him and that what matters.”

Sophie – “Yeah Blitz you are a hero!”

Blitz lifted his head up to the girls smiling after realizing that they are right.

Blitz – “Thank you guys...”

           Just then an hour or two later, one of the doctors came over to blitz and his friends to the waiting room area. He told them the good news about Angel is going to be okay and survived the surgery. The doctors managed to stop all the bleeding and use some medicines (even some drugs) to help him heal. However, Angel was still unconscious, and Blitz and the others decided to stay in his hospital room until he woke up

()()()()()()()()()

“Look…He’s awaking up!”

“Oh thank God he’s okay!”

“He’s…still alive!”

           Angel’s eyes slowly opened and the ringing he was hearing stop. His vision was blurry, so he blinks a few times to clear his vision. He saw that he was in the hospital room, in a hospital bed, bandaged up and wearing a cast for his broken arm. He even had two IV bags: one was medicine and the other was pink blood mix with cocaine for him. Angel saw Charlie, and the girls in his hospital room but Blitz wasn’t there.

Charlie - *gently* “Hey Angel, how are you feeling?”

Angel – “Tired but getting better. Where is-“

That’s when Blitz opened the door and saw Blitz with a can of soda in his hands. Blitz looked up to see Angel awake.

Blitz – “Angel you’re awake!”

Angel – “Blitz!”

Angel stood up in his hospital bed as an attempt to walk to Blitz. However thanks to his injuries, it prevented him from doing so and just cause more pain.

Angel – *in pain* “Ow! Ow!”

Blitz – *concerned* “Whoa take it easy Angel! You just woke up.”

Blitz gently push Angel down on his hospital bed and covered him with the blanket more to keep him comfortable.

Angel - *rubbing his head* “How long was I out?”

Sonya – “For a few hours.”

Vaggie – “Angel you son a bitch. You have no idea how worried and scared we were about what happened to you. It even scared me.”

Angel – “Eh what can I say babe. I’m loveable.”

Sonya – “Yeah you can tell he’s back to old self again.”

Sophie walked up to Angel and tip toped to the bed’s level. She gave him a piece of paper with a cute drawing of herself, Charlie, Vaggie, Sonya, Blitz and Angel holding hands and it even said, “Get well, Angel”.

Sophie – “I made a get well drawing for you.”

Angel - *smiling* “Aw…Thanks Sophie it’s really cute.”

Sophie smiled and giggled a bit. Blitz walked over to Angel slowly and sat down on the chair next to the bed.

Blitz – “So…um…How your arm?”

Angel – “It’s okay. It mostly I would have to wear this cast for 6 weeks.”

Blitz – “Six weeks huh? *rubbed the back of his own neck* Well…at least you’ll be better by then. And you will be leaving the hospital in a few days.”

Angel – “Yeah…I mean this isn’t my first time in a hospital and had a broken arm. Then again…I never fought a bastard like Ryan. I managed to get a few punches here and there, but he was too strong. To be honest…I was scared that I was gonna die.”

Blitz- “Yeah, he really was strong and brutal from the looks from all the injures he gave you…But all that matters is you’re safe now and that bastard won’t come near you, my sister, or anybody else while I’m around and that’s a promise I’m willing to keep. Now I know there’s more than just Sophie that I need to look after and care about. I mean you guys are important to me and Sophie.”

Angel – “Aww thank you Blitzy-Que. *smirking* you know, it would have been cute if you dressed up as a nurse to take care of me. Then I would have called you Nurse Blitzy-Que!”

Blitz then had an angry/annoyed look on his face and his left eye twitched a bit at the “Nurse Blitzy-Que” comment. But he knew he had to keep his inner feeling of punching Angel in the head due to him being badly hurt.

Blitz – “Mmm…! You’re lucky you’re getting a long rest to recover because I would’ve hurt you right now.”

Angel – *chuckled* “But seriously thank you for saving me. I was honestly surprised that you would”

Blitz –*softly smirks* “And I’ll do it again if anything like that happens once more. Besides, I would never, ever leave you hanging like that.”

Angel - *smiles* “Thank you. Ummm…Do you mind staying with me until I get better?”

Blitz – “Of course I will. Besides, I trust Charlie and the others to take care of Sophie for a few days.”

Charlie – “We will take good care of her. And will visit you Angel.”

Angel smiled and did a yawn.

Angel – “I don’t know what kind of drugs they put in me, but it is making me tired.”

Blitz – “Blitz good, because resting is an important part of recovery.”

Vaggie – “Maybe we should leave these two alone. We will see you in the hotel in a few days.”

Sophie – “See you tomorrow!”

Sophie gave her brother a hug and left with the girls to go back home. Then Angel fell asleep while Blitz went to the bathroom. Blitz went back to the room and Angel was still asleep. Blitz slowly walked up to Angel and couldn’t believe the injures he got: his head was wrapped in gauze bandage since he has a concussion, his first left arm was broken and put in a cast, the rest of his arms and cut up and bruises so they were wrapped in bandages. Angel got a bandaged on his cheek, his chest and ribs were bruised so that was wrapped up as well, and his legs was cut up and bruised so it was also bandages up.

Blitz gently put his hand over’s Angel’s hand another hand on Angel’s cheek. He was being careful that he didn’t touch any of Angel’s injures and didn’t want to wake him up. It was hard to believe that a tough demon Angel, and badly hurt and now in the hospital to recover. Even some of the cuts was bad to the point that Angel needed stitches. Blitz held back the tears because the most important thing was Angel was alive and was safe.

Blitz – “Don’t worry Angel…I’ll make sure to keep you safe from that Evil Eye Bastard. That a promise I’m keeping for sure.”

Blitz make sure no one was looking especially in the hallway. He gently kissed Angel on the lips.

Blitz – *whispers* “Recover soon Angel.”

Blitz sat down on the chair and began to take a nap too and stood by Angel’s side as he requested. Now have a new mission: Protecting his new family from Ryan and making sure he keeps his promise to protect them.