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holylottie · 1 year ago

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Aching bones, aching teeth [02]

masterlist [and warnings!]

PAIRING — Lottie Matthews x afab!reader

CHAPTER SINOPSIS — 1996, you pass your last moments on your hometown before heading to nationals.

NOTE — english is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes you might find. Please go read the tw's first! Thank you for reading :)

Chapter 02 — between letters and lies

1996

Charlotte Matthews was born on a cold morning, at exactly 9:46 a.m., and her cries were so loud that the patients six floors above knew that a new life had arrived.

And Charlotte's childhood continued in the same way as it began: with a lot of loud crying. She was always scolded a lot, which is why she hardly cried these days, but there were two people in the world she could rely on to dry her tears.

One of them was extremely close, her childhood best friend, while the other, her grandmother, was still enjoying her retirement: traveling all over the globe. Charlotte tried not to miss her so much (tried not to feel so angry) but it was almost impossible; her grandmother raised her, the only one who gave her affection - and the only one who accepted her after the anniversary tragedy.

Lottie's house was huge and freezing, extremely cold during the winters and with a relaxing breeze during the summers, as if several ghosts were blowing eternally through the walls. As a little girl, Charlotte swore she could hear them.

Today, the only sound in her house was of shells hitting each other, a wind chime that you and her made when the voices in Lottie's head were almost unbearable.

Charlotte went downstairs, looking for one of her parents, but all she saw was the piano in the living room, quiet as a child.

Oh God, she's never seen a quiet child, she's never been one to begin with, maybe that's why she doesn't have any siblings —she sucked all the energy out of her parents before they could give her some company.

The girl huffed, crossing her arms as she looked for Genevieve, the new housekeeper. She thought about what might happen if she found her, what she would really do if she saw her. Charlotte would like the presence of someone older and more affectionate, but that didn't mean that anyone older was going to be affectionate.

She went upstairs again, back to her room and put on the first pair of boots she could find.

Then she went out into the yard, picking up her old soccer ball and practicing shots with herself, trying to score goals between her mother's flower chairs.

The Aetos family home was near a park with a beautiful garden with a statue in the center, and the bench facing this view was your favorite place. Far enough away from your parents, but close enough for them not to complain.

You held a book in your lap, but could only stare at the water moving up and down the white marble sculpted arms.

It was a perfect sight, a comforting silence and a calm that could only be replicated when you were in the presence of your best friend.

Your fingers clenched together, nervous, not that it was apparent, anyone who saw you from the outside would find a person as calm as the statue.

Your large, sad eyes were uncomfortable for your mother, and between humility or luxury, she seemed to see only the latter in your irises. More annoying than the eyeballs was the time you spent in the bathroom. Your parents hated your vanity.

Your yellow tights covered your scraped knees, burning from the fervent prayer you had said last night. You felt lost, begged the heavens so much to be heard, to be changed, but to no avail: you still had the same feelings —and blamed yourself greatly for them.

Was a confession still valid if you lied about the real reasons behind her actions? you confessed seeking forgiveness, not to find other people to blame.

You confessed, and spent more time practicing your dance routine until your toes hurt, spent more time sewing clothes without taking care with the needle; You tried everything to feel less guilty about your lack of guilt.

You did like your mother, like the time she caught you reading The Well of Loneliness, and made you clean the whole house on your knees, begging forgiveness for yours and the writer's soul. You wondered if your mother really knew about the story, but you didn't dare question anything, your mother had certainly chastised you because she had heard what the book was about.

Of all the literature you had ever studied, Russian literature was the one that had taken up the most space in your heart. The melancholy in every word was something no one else could replicate. At least, no one else you could read, as your Arabic was weak and minuscule.

The teacher had split the class into three and given them each a different Russian work. The group was divided into two and each member had to present their own opinion on the theme of the book —as well as doing the technical analysis that you loved so much.

And you got even angrier, you had read the book and loved analyzing it, what was wrong with doing it?

The theme of the book and Dostoevsky's damning phrases about self-opinion... A little ironic that you had got that part of the debate right.

You opened the book again, flicking through the pages as if the answers were going to leap out of the paper and straight into your head.

You loved old literature, knowing that someone, years ago, decades ago, held the same book and read the same words, made you feel as if you weren't alone in her world of thoughts —you were connected to everything and everyone at the same time, all the time.

However, the beauty of the author's words did not take away the sadness of their truthfulness, what hurt hurt, and only became art once it stopped burning.

You opened to any page, your eyes skimming over the paragraph marked in neon colors.

"We always think of eternity as an idea that cannot be understood, something immense. But why should it be? What if, instead of all that, you suddenly find just a little room in there, something like a village bath house, dirty, and spiders in every corner, and that's all eternity is."

That paragraph never left your mind. You had always wanted eternity, to leave a legacy, you wanted to be important, to be remembered, and thinking of eternity as a dirty little room began to drive you crazy. Did the infinitude of the soul really not matter that much? you weren't afraid of dying, but you were afraid of not having anyone to remember you.

Class passed by so painful slowly.

The biology teacher spoke about seaweed, about how they were everywhere — if there was light, there was seaweed. You looked at Lottie, on your side, imagining her engulfing you like the sea engulfed the land — if there was life, there was your love for Lottie.

You could drown in her love, — no, no, you wouldn’t drown —, you would willingly swallow more water than what you could take.

— Are you okay? — she turns around, asking with a pretty worried face.

How to tell all the complicated, sinful thoughts going through your mind? you never let yourself indulge in such desires —let alone recognize you had them. However, you knew it was clear: you wanted to keep being seen.

It took a lot of effort for you to talk, but you opened your mouth more, asked questions, broke the silence quite a few times… The team had given you a voice.

— What happened to Allie… It was truly scary — you decided to say, looking at the hand Lottie had put on the table, aching to be touched too — I never saw someone bleed so much.

It was a lie, but you never considered yourself much of a person to be upset about your bloody wounds; you bled paint, glitter pens, strawberry jam or a ribbon, nothing much human.

— Let’s think about something else, shall we? — Charlotte wanted to punch Taissa (more for giving bad thoughts to you than actually hurting Allie).

—y/n, there’s no one more blessed than you, — Laura Lee started to say, a smile so gentle on her face that the sun itself could burn — you truly are gifted, such as me, for having you.

You smiled too, enticed by the words of your childhood company. There was tension in the circle, with all the girls saying sweet (yet imposing) words to one another.

— Laura, you are one of my best friends and I’m so glad God led me to you, you shine as bright as the sun — you loved Laura, you hoped Laura never realized how sinful you were.

You two both hugged a very tight embrace, going to another lady. You stepped in front of Shauna, tilting your head at the girl.

— Y/n, you have a… a very nice taste in clothes and phrases.

You giggled lowly, shaking your head.

— Should I be upset about your delay? — you two both laughed slightly, you blinked one eye — I really enjoy you, Shauna, I enjoy your big eyes and big words.

She didn’t say anything back, and soon you were passing close to Natalie: — I don’t really have anything nice to say about you…

— Oh, fuck off! — she muttered back, smiling like a fool while going in Jackie's direction.

— Taissa, you are very pretty, and perhaps too witty for your own good.

— Y/n, you are the second best on the team.

And you didn’t even get upset by it, rather the contrary, you immediately assumed Lottie was the first —and you were so happy to be so close to Lottie in Tai's view.

Finally, the time came, the lamb walked in the direction of the flames.

— Lottie! — your voice was like a surprised giggle, staring deeply into the girl’s — I know God exists because I looked you in the eyes.

— y/n… — she took a deep breath, lost in words, swallowing everything she truly wanted to say, but she smiled — if God exists, I wonder when he will bless me with your lips.

Of course, this wasn’t what she truly said. In fact, Lottie kept quiet. She gave one step ahead and hugged you tightly, whispering on your ear:

— God exists in your embrace.

Charlotte's house was not only large and full of rooms, but it was also full of space in the backyard —a plot big enough to have a vegetable garden and a pond you could bathe in.

You weren't the biggest fan of pieces of water where you couldn't see the ground, so you loved being in the lake at Charlotte's house, where the water was almost crystal clear, showing the stones. You couldn't even think of what that pool of water must have cost Mr. and Mrs. Matthews.

Lottie was in the water, while you were sitting on the edge with your feet dangling and creating little ripples, you had leaves, twigs and flowers around, creating crowns of petals and plants. Charlotte stared at you curiously, wondering what you were thinking, although she knew that if she asked, the answer would be the same: "I'm not thinking about anything, dear Lottie, just feeling how much I love you and-"

Oh, right, that part wasn't really sincere, but Lottie liked to imagine you following the script that her own head was creating.

When Lottie thought of you, she didn't think of a love that warmed her all over, but a love that would cook her in an oven at 200 degrees and consume her entirely.

She imagined you sitting at a beautiful table, waiting for her heart on a platter.

She imagined that you would accept the dish, that you would eat every morsel, saying promises of love —she imagined that you would accept her into your body in every way.

— Do you think the dinosaurs knew they were about to die? It makes me so sad to think that they might have just thought it was a miracle that such a shiny thing had come so close... — You pressed your lips together, stopping weaving the leaves to stare at the work in progress and pulling Charlotte out of her own head — I guess that's how it is with all warm and shiny things, one day they turn you to dust...

— Do you think it would have been different? If they'd known?

— A lot of people only start to love once they know they may never love again, don't they?

— Well, that's Confucius' logic... But I don't know if I'd like to know that the end is so near, sometimes ignorance can be a gift.

— But it's still a lie.

— But it's going to end anyway, darling... What difference does a beautiful lie make? — Lottie stared at her best friend, she knew that nothing was more important to you than the truth, that's why everything was so painful and confusing for you.

Lottie realized that she had to be honest.

— Y/n, I need to tell you something, — she said, smiling nervously.

You looked at her curiously, stepping into the river to be closer to Lottie.

— I’m terrified of nationals. You need to come, I’ve asked the coach to put you on the regular.

You sighed slightly, thinking about how Allie couldn’t play any sooner.

— It’s a great opportunity for you, Lots…

— I don't want it for me, I want it for us.

You stared at your best friend, a confused smile on your face, wondering how you should handle this situation.

— applepie, I need you to trust me on this... — Charlotte said, her voice serious, moving closer and wrapping her arms around your waist, her head resting on your shoulder — please.

You turned your head, leaning it against Lottie's, your nose taking in the scent of your friend's hair cream. The water around you was cold, but your body was warm —your heart too.

— Okay... a test...

“My dearest, Charlotte

I must apologize, I am not a good person with words getting out of my mouth, but, hopefully, I will be able to make them worthy of writing in this letter.

I tell you how much I appreciate you, however, I must confess, it's surprising for me how unsure of it all you seem to be; I suppose our own light truly can make us blind.

I feel like those words weren't enough, so I hope I can make you believe it with this list.

— I love the way you look at me after I say something you disagree with; I love how you expect your eyes to say everything you can't; Most of it all, I love how they truly say it.

— I love how when you laugh (truly laughs) your eyes become very small; I love how your cheeks work as a happy measure, I know when a joke is funny when I can't see your eyes.

— I love how you tilt your head when you are trying to make people see your point of view.

— I love that when you frown, your lips are pressed together, like you are sending a kiss to those you disagree with. I suppose you are just so full of love that your body releases it without even wanting to.

— I love your smell; I can sense everytime you enter the room, it's there instantly and I look for it like a dog in an airport. I never cared that much about perfumes, from all the five senses, smell was the one I took for granted; however it is different now: I find myself taking deep breaths around you, so usually that everytime I see a pretty fantastic view on my walks, I end up lacking air.

— I love your hair; I love how your bangs are always so neatly trimmed and placed, like the wind isn't a bother to your lines; I love how you play with it when you are filled with concentration.

— I love your fingers and how they look for my hand;

— I love your skin; I love how you glow in the sun, like Apollo is making it shine just for you; Deeply, I bet he is, how could the almighty god of art not wish to perpetuate the beauty of the most beautiful creation in the mortal realm?

— I love your mind most of it all, how you think; I love how you stay dedicated to one single singer but listens to multiple songs of various people; I love how you speak your mind when you are comfortable enough; I love how your favorite shows are the ones you didn't even finished watching, there's something very pure of loving a thing you don't even know how it's going to end; I love how one of your favorite colors is grey but you only uses light tones; I love how your biggest dream is to work paleontology, how you wish to dive deep into the past and look for answers; I love how your favorite animal are dogs because you see them more (what is strange for me at first, how can you have as your favorite something so daily?; until I realized that what you love the most is to have company; I do not wish for you to prefer anything else.);

— I love dogs (now).”

You took a deep breath, putting the decorated letter inside Lottie’s locker and walked straight outside, ready to enter the bus and be taken to the airport; leaving the confession letter to your future self.

Leaving to the future.

#itmighthavebeenlibrary #yellowjackets #reader insert #autistic lottie matthews #lottie matthews x you #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x reader #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #aching bones aching teeth

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sapphire-weapon · 10 months ago

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Wait, why the eaglone tried to put you out of the fandom when you're the first one writing such good post about that ship?

oh there were a whole bunch of reasons, really

they drank the "aeon is canon endgame" koolaid and thought i was being a clown for saying that aeon was retconned and eagleone was canon in RE4make actually

they also went through a period where they desperately wanted aeon fandom to accept them and the ship as valid, and when i said publicly that aeon fandom will never accept them no matter what they do and it doesn't matter anyway because fuck em we're canon now, they accused me of "setting them back" within the fandom and attacked me

they all write shitty "ashley is traumatized and leon has to help her uwu" fic and got personally offended when i said that seeing ashley as traumatized literally misses the point of her character

they're also idiots who think that leon is a blonde italian mob orphan and got mad at me for trying to correct that knowledge within the fandom

they then got offended when i said i don't read fanfiction, because they see the fandom as transactional, and they felt that i owed them my eyeballs after they read my fic

but what really set them off

the straw that broke the camel's back

was when i dared to say that i didn't like the prompts that they came up with for the ship week they'd decided to run and that i was annoyed that they were calling it "leshley week" thus solidifying that ship name in fandom because i just fucking HATE the ship name

like literally that was it

i didn't like a list of ship prompts or a ship name and said so on an untagged post that wasn't directed at anyone or say anyone's name

so they sent me over 50 hate messages in about 48 hours, all saying about how they wanted me out of the fandom, and they literally went into my DMs and demanded a public apology from me

it was literally a case of a bunch of new kids swarming into an old fandom and thinking that they now have the right to run the place however they want without having the slightest bit of an idea of how the fandom actually operates

and now, to the best of my knowledge

90% of that server isn't even in RE fandom anymore

they literally tried to run me out of a fandom they didn't even fucking stay in themselves lmao

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aquaburst3 · 1 year ago

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One debate going around on TWST Tumblr is about the OB boys and how the narrative handles them. On one side, we have someone saying that the OB boys' actions towards Yuu are shitty, horrible and traumatizing, so that the game should take time out to have Yuu lash out at them and have the boys "compensate Yuu for their actions". Some people agreed with that OP. One person in the replies of that post even went as far as to say that they quit playing the game based on that fact. On the other side, we have a person replying to that take basically rebutting that statement. They believe that the game shouldn't condemn them for their actions, and that we aren't meant to read their actions as scaring. Another portion of the fandom agreed with them. (No, I'm not tagging anyone for obvious reasons.) Personally, I'm somewhere in the middle between those extremes.

On one hand, we all came into this game knowing that they are based on Disney Villains, right? So, what the hell do some people expect? The NRC boys to be lovable Disney heroes with a heart of gold? Of course, they are gonna be morally grey anime pretty boys, who do some questionable actions. That's the whole fucking point of the game. xD

I also agree with that second OP that expecting "compensation" from people who were dicks towards you is not how life works. Sometimes people are just dicks towards you and you have to move on. Hell, I think characters like Vil compensated Yuu to a realistic amount where they acknowledged their actions, apologized and tried to make it up to them. I don't know what else some people want here.

On the other hand, I think this is one example of a HUGE flaw with the writing —the static characters and them having zero consequences for their actions, including their fucked up ones. Something I noticed in the game for awhile now is that most of the time, it completely brushes off the boys' actions and they get only a slap on the wrist. It's not just in cases of OBs either, it's in general. Almost Thanos Snap your friend? He instantly forgives you. Almost suck out the magic out of people and want to do it to the world? Nothing happens other than "forcing you to live with your guilt". Almost turn people into living puppets? You are allowed to get away scott free without anyone being the least bit mad about being almost subjected to a fate worse than death. You see what I mean? It's fucking laughable and unrealistic. Actions always have consequences, and so should theirs', whether they are based on villains or not. To be blunt, it's shitty writing. Plain and simple. Unless you are writing a flat arc, characters need to change and develop. It can be for the better or worse. But there has to be...something. Otherwise what the fuck is the point of having a story?

You can have both. You can write morally grey teen/young adult characters in a coming of age story AND have them have realistic consequences for their actions and grow and change. The Crows prove that.

The Crows from Six of Crows parallel the NRC students in a lot of ways. They are both in the same age range. (Even though, I think aging them up to be in their 20s and early 30s in the show was a smart move, since you can buy a guy in his late 20s being a powerful gang lord over a teenager. I think that's part of the reason why aging up the NRC boys to be 20-somethings in university is so popular in this fandom. It's much easier to buy Azul as a 20-something owning the lounge, for example. But that's besides the point.) Both have morals and care about a select few while being rather questionable. Both have done some VERY fucked up actions. For example, Kaz pulls out a guy's eyeball at one point. One key difference is that the Crows are more dynamic as characters and have actual consequences for their actions.

For example, Kaz is a hardened criminal who only shows his softer side to a select few. However, at the end of Crooked Kingdom, Inej, the woman he endlessly simps after and cares about a lot, says that she needs time away from him, joining a crew to find her lost family. The reason why he did this? Because he was emotionally constipated and needed to work on his issues more before getting into a relationship with her. That is a very real consequence for his actions and how he treated others. Hell, the way I interpreted that bit is that whenever she came back, she would be more ready to be in a relationship with him. (We would've gotten that in a SOC series. Thanks a lot, Netflixs!) There are plenty of other examples like that in the series. The group doesn't instantly let in Mattias into the fold thanks to him hunting down other Grisha before, tension forms between Jesper and Wylan thanks to the love triangle between them and Kuwei, etc.

The game could've done something like that. Have them still be morally grey people, but have fallout for some of their actions and have to earn their redemption. Do more things like what happened to Vil in Book 6...but have it actually make sense and not a stupid deus ex machina to make Malleus look like a Gary Stu. (God, the whole "Vil turning into an old man thing was fucking stupid.)

Plus, these guys are based on VILLAINS, so you'd think that characters like Ruggie would be more angry and want revenge. The fact that they quickly forgive and forget makes no sense in that regard as well. Hell, I'm still surprised that Ace, Leona and Vil never got mad at Honest Fellow or called him out in the new event. I thought they would try to kill him for what he did given the fact that they are based on villains. That's what the Crows would've done.

While, yes, I think part of this is due to the game's design as a gatcha. Plus, they want to make the boys as appealing to the player as possible in order to entice them pay more, so that includes not focusing on some of their deeds. However, I also think part of this is due to Yana herself.

During the 2020 guidebook interview, Yana said that she honestly believes that the boys' only appeal is that they are "bad" and they should always remain that way. So part of the reason why the game doesn't focus on that is because calling them out and having them change would go against her own mentality as a writer, because "character development=bad" to her, which hampers the story on all levels. That's why I think the light novel was able to dive into this aspect—Yana's not behind it, somebody else is. So, yes. Yana shares a chunk of the blame as well as the head writer, and is yet another example of her being a terrible one.

Another problem is that Yuu's lack of presence and blase attitude towards everything. The aren't phased by anything that happens to them in the narrative. It's not just the OBs either, but in general. On the first night, they have a GOOD night sleep despite being thrown into another world. When their home is destroyed in Book 6, they simply don't care. Like...what? Who acts like that? They have no impact on the events and mostly act as an observer, being more like the Crew in The Office than a fucking character. Hell, my toothbrush has more of a presence then Yuu! Again, it's shitty writing.

So, yeah. I think the side wanting these guys to be paragons of virtue or to make them repay Yuu for their actions is asinine. But at the same time, I think that Yuu's unrealistic responses to things, the character stagnation and them not having any real consequences to their actions is holding the story back. While I don't think the characters should beg for forgiveness from Yuu or go to rehab or something stupid like that, I think they should have some setbacks as a result of their actions that they have to work overcoming instead of moving on to the next boy. This should be a coming of age story, so that's a basic requirement that Yana is intentionally not meeting thanks to her own stupid mentality.

#twst negative #twst critical #aqua rambles #twisted wonderland

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circledemptiness · 6 months ago

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Merciful

Fandom: Batman (Arkham Knight) Pairing: Edward Nigma (The Riddler) x Reader Rating: Explicit +18 Tags: Dominant Edward, praise & degradation kink, fingering, anal ✦ Read on AO3 – Older work (and it shows)

“Alright, I’ll make you talk then. How about that?” It’s a threat that sounds like a promise, and you’re not sure whether to feel terrified, or excited, or both. * What else is there to do when you're locked up at Arkham Asylum?

Arkham Asylum is a terrible place —and even that is a fucking understatement. Can’t spend a day without two lunatics getting at each other’s throat; the damned hole perpetually drowned in yells and shrieks gives you the fattest headaches; and let’s not mention the lingering smell all over the building —a mix of blood, bleach, piss and unidentifiable filth. Like they’ve been trying to keep the place somewhat sterile but evidently failed.

The worst part is how long the days are, locked in your tiny and miserable cell with the bare minimum. One bad misbehaviour and the wardens are quick to strip you of every little form of pleasure you could miraculously put your hand on: a book, paper and crayons, a game of cards… They say you’re lucky they don’t put you in solitary confinement where it’s only your thoughts and spiders crawling around, biting your ankles. Eh, lucky. Now, that’s funny.

You don’t have many friends here, not like you could trust anyone anyway; most of the people at the Arkham Asylum aren’t exactly right in the head. You can’t know what’s truly on their mind behind their smile. Best to keep your profile low and avoid eye contact, you never know what a maniac could read in your eyeballs. Heard that someone lost a rib for blinking too fast at one of these poor souls that’s been locked up for far too long. Guess that’s what Arkham Asylum does to someone after a while.

Feels like you’re rotting here. They said the Asylum would be good for people like you , whatever the fuck that means. An opportunity, even. To fix you, make you right again, after what you’ve done . Really, they just want you out of society, and keep you far away from anyone “fit” and “good”. Did anyone ever leave Arkham as a better version of themselves? Doubtful. No amount of electroshock therapy will ever do anyone here any good. What a joke.

Anyway, you still have a few years to go —if you’re good. And you don’t plan on extending your stay any longer than necessary. So you’ve been quiet, despite the chaos surrounding you. “ Clever girl ” the Riddler once called you. Which was fucking ironic considering how loud he usually was. Calling anyone who would disrespect him a moron, shouting how smart, important and superior he is, claiming how much Gotham is afraid of him. You believe him.

That being said, he also knew how to act polite and courteous to the Asylum’s staff. Playing their game. You can tell it makes him want to gag when he’s complimenting someone in exchange for a favor, but it’s working. More or less surprisingly so, the Riddler was somewhat feared and usually respected around here. He was part of the Gold Stars of the Asylum. Something like that. Different from the rest of you, that’s for sure. You’re just weirdos who commited a felonies, but he’s got his name plastered all over Gotham, in all the newspapers. He’s someone .

The first time you accidentally bumped into him and profusely apologized for it, he asked for your name. He never forgot it. The Riddler never forgets anything or anyone. It terrified you at first. After all, you know who he is, what he’s done.

And let’s be honest, even at Arkham there are weak links, and the ones you don’t mess with. Didn’t take you too long to see what they do to them here. That’s also why you tried your best not to get noticed; no offense but you’re not exactly the strongest person in this Hell hole, that’s for sure, and you’re still very attached to all your organs and bones.

For all of these reasons, when one day you exchanged a few pleasantries with him, you thought it could be a good idea to keep him close.

The Riddler likes being praised. That was an easy one to figure out, but you didn’t suspect how useful this would be. Took you a few weeks of innocently stalking him around (you’d pretend meeting him was merely a coincidence), complimenting him and his work, asking him to teach you something, or even inviting him to play chess —he’d always win, of course— to finally be able to have some sort of proximity with him.

Makes life around much more bearable, even though it was to spend it next to someone who enjoys the sound of his voice a bit too much. The good thing about it is that most inmates would leave you alone as long as you were around him. The downside is that they got you a new nickname. The Riddler’s whore. Harsh but fair. Not like many people enjoyed his company, or would be seen around him. Surely he’s getting something out of it, right?

You never touched him, though. But you let them all think you did. Made you much less approachable. People wouldn’t mess with the Riddler’s plaything. From time to time, one of the inmates would crudely ask you what his cock looked like. If you were a swallower or a spitter. Which hole he prefered. You nurtured the myth. Never confirmed the rumors, but never exactly denied them either. Answering with a wink. Implying something ambiguous. Not exactly lying, not exactly telling the truth either.

Not like it would bother you that much. Took you a long time to admit it.

Perhaps it was the lack of intimacy talking —you haven’t fucked anyone since you’ve been immured here after all, and your body was starting to really resent it— or perhaps it was the harsh contrast between him and the rest of the disgusting inmates around you, but you found Edward Nigma… charismatic. In his own way.

You always had something for older men. The marks of the passing years give Edward an undeniable charm. Delicate wrinkles decorate his skin, and you can see all the tension, the passion and fury in his burning stare. Surely, if you had to let someone from this hellish place fuck you, you could pick much worse than him.

Yet, he never flirted with you. Never told you anything remotely ambiguous. Surely, he must have heard the rumors about you as well. He’s the smartest man of Gotham, how could he not know? But you never once talked about it. Perhaps he didn’t care. Perhaps he’d rather ignore them.

More often than you'd care to admit, you thought of him. Late at night, in your cramped cell, biting your nasty pillow to muffle your moans while your fingers were busy frantically rubbing your clit and thrusting inside your core, you wondered whether the rumors bothered him. You sometimes imagined he was also pumping his hard flushed cock, merely a few cells away, thinking of your aching hole. Wouldn’t that be nice .

Been a while since you’ve felt the touch of anyone on your body (that was not someone punching you). You got used to it of course, but there are times where you could just lay face down ass up and wait for just about anyone to come and ruin you. Bad idea.

But today is one of these days.

You’re playing chess with Edward. He’s sitting across you, elbows resting on the table, his chin nested against the back of his hand. He’s bored, as usual, but it would be worse if you weren’t here. You suppose so. You hope so. He’s staring at the void, waiting for you to play, but your mind is somewhere else, in a much darker place. Even the usual chaos echoing in the playroom doesn’t distract you anymore, as your mind is screaming, yearning for him to ravage you right here and then.

You move your piece on the checkerboard.

You slightly extend your left leg, crossed over the other one, and brush your ankle against his calf. It almost feels accidental. So of course, he removes his leg, not giving your touch a second thought. Damn it.

His move.

He was quick, as usual. He probably already knows what you’re going to do next. What he will be doing after you play. And how he will win —he always does. You brush his leg again, and you hum appreciatively. Try to get his attention. Playing all cute. Surely, there are more straightforward ways to ask someone to fuck you, but he’s not just anyone. He doesn’t flinch. You insist.

Once you’re done with your move, he immediately follows. His lack of reaction is disappointing, and for a second of clarity you realize how foolish you’re being. Clearly, he’s not interested. Or he doesn’t get the hint. Either way, maybe you’ll have to seduce someone else. So you remove your leg from him.

He suddenly grabs your ankle with his hand, underneath the table. His grip is so tight it cuts the air out of your lungs. Your heart races, and he lifts his eyes to meet yours.

“If you want to tell me something, you better use your words, dear.”

He glares at you, and your entire body trembles. His stare feels different. Two beautiful green orbs pierce your soul, invade your core. Though, you cannot decipher what’s behind them. What he’s thinking about. The mist of his thoughts is unsettling.

The warmth of his hand is radiating inside of you, heading directly towards your already swollen and drenched parts. He maintains eye contact, he doesn’t let go. Feels like he’s possessing you. And, really, he probably does. His body is relaxed, immobile, while you’re absolutely panicking.

You part your trembling lips slightly, but no word comes out of it. What are you supposed to say? I want you to fuck me? Don’t be ridiculous, now. Instead, you look down at the chessboard, feeling your cheeks burning. You’re a fool. Feels like he’s been holding you for an eternity, but really it’s probably been a few seconds. He releases his grip, hums, and you lower your leg.

Chechkmate .

It stings. Something in your heart stings. You feel ridiculous, ashamed, yet you can’t silence your damn thoughts. The way he delicately cleans the board with his calloused hands —God, how your body yearns to be touched by them–– the way he licks his lips almost imperceptibly so… None of the words you are thinking of right now are in the Bible. And so, your heart frantically beating in your chest, you shakingly excuse yourself and leave the room, heading toward your cell, in hope to satisfy your urges somehow.

You close the door behind you, faking a sense of intimacy. Laying on your small creaking bed, you close your eyes, in a desperate attempt to collect yourself. But you can’t, can you? Of course not. Not when you’re already drenched, thinking of him. You slip a hand in the pants of your uniform, and directly underneath your underwear. The other hand grabs the bed sheets as you’re circling your clit, sighing as quietly as possible, trying to get some sort of release. Your hand moves quickly; you're chasing your orgasm.

But your pleasure is short-lived, as you hear your cell’s door opening. You quickly remove your hand from your pants, sit on your bed and give a panicked look at Edward, closing the door behind him. There are a million thoughts racing through your mind, but all you can mutter is: “we’re not allowed to have inmates in our cell”. Damn it .

Edward furrows his brow for a brief instant, then he flashes you a smug grin. Folding his arms, he leans against the door.

“Oh, so would you rather me leave, then?”

Fuck . Your lips tremble, and you try to form a coherent thought in your head, but all of the sudden you forgot your entire vocabulary, your alphabet and even your own name; you can only negatively shake your head. Edward chuckles.

“What was that?”

Fucking bastard . His eyes shine with malice, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“You really need to learn how to use your words, you know? I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me…”

He walks until he’s standing right in front of you, your face is at the level of his stomach. God, his frame is glorious, his presence is owning the room. He extends a hand, and caresses your hair. The touch makes you squirm and sigh. It’s soft, yet possessive, like he’s rescuing a bird in his hand; he could crush you if he wanted to, but you believe in his mercy. You sigh when he pets your head, and your reaction grants you a low chuckle. The Riddler is not merciful.

He suddenly firmly grabs your jaw and makes you look at him. His grip is strong. Hurts. You feel the muscles in your neck tensing. And you feel oh so frail in his hand. There is a devilish grin on his face, as he’s biting his lower lip. He looks excited, delighted. Like he’s having fun, toying with you.

“Alright, I’ll make you talk then. How about that?”

It’s a threat that sounds like a promise, and you’re not sure whether to feel terrified, or excited, or both. Feels like a fever dream right now, your mind doesn’t seem to completely comprehend what’s going on. You just feel the pressure of his hand roughly pushing you on your back. Your body falls loudly and bounces on the shitty, uncomfortable, unwashed bed, and before you have the time to protest he’s crawling on top of you. Spreading your legs, making room for him.

His touch is rough as he’s manhandling you, grabbing your thighs unceremoniously and pulling you against him, wrapping his large hands around your waist to position you the way he wants to, as if you had little to no choice in the matter. No, you probably don’t.

His hands are quick to reach the hem of your shirt and lift it up, exposing your bare breasts. You yelp in surprise, but another squeal, much louder this time, quickly replaces it; Edward painfully grabs your breast, squeezing it harshly. The fucker seems pleased or amused.

“Lovely sound! Not quite a word yet, I’m afraid, but we’re getting there” he mocks you, taunts you, before holding one of your nipples between his thumb and index fingers, pinching the sensitive nub, pulling at it, rolling it. There’s nothing tender about it, and almost nothing pleasurable either. But you are far too touch starved to not take an opportunity when you see one, and may God forgive you if it means being tortured by the Riddler. You bite your lip, in a desperate attempt to conceal your moans. He chuckles, visibly amused.

“Look at you, shaking and blushing. Such a pretty sight. This is what you wanted, is it not?”

His grin widens as he’s drinking the view of your sweating body, squirming under him. You frantically nod, abandoning all sense of self-esteem. Couldn’t deny it anymore anyway. He seems pleased with your answer, and as his hand keeps playing and harshly fondling your breasts, his other caresses your stomach tenderly, before crawling lower. Until it reaches your pants. It doesn’t stop, sliding inside of it. You gasp, shivering in anticipation. He hums appreciatively.

“Did you know that people have been talking about you? About us ?”

His hand caresses your folds through your underwear, extracting a loud moan out of your throat. Your thighs shake and tense around his body, but you can’t close them. He’s exploring the shape of your cunt, trying to find the spot that would make you wail. And he does, God, he does. And your mind gets blank when he’s rubbing it through the fabric. You sob, and shakingly beg him.

“ Please… ”

He laughs. Victoriously. He looks smug, ferocious.

“There we go…” he whispers. He lowers his body, and you feel his warm breath caressing your neck, then your ear. He’s humming in pleasure, visibly aroused as well. He murmurs, in a low voice.

“ Tell me, dear… What do they call you? ”

His fingers are circling your nub faster, surely he can feel how drenched you are now even through the cotton panties. There’s an intense warmth building inside of you, in your stomach, and your legs are twitching. You’re close, so close, if only he could give you more.

“ Please… ” you beg him. He tuts you.

“Answer me, dear.”

You swallow. Hard. It’s humiliating. But God may forgive you, does his voice make you lose your mind.

“ Your whore ” you whisper. He chuckles, and you feel his fingers crawling inside your underwear, caressing your pubic hair, before resting on your swollen folds. Painfully immobile. You sob.

“Is that what you are?” Before you could answer him, you feel his lips brushing the thin skin of your neck, then the wet and warm caress of the flat of his tongue. Your body trembles. There’s only one correct answer, and you know it.

“ Yes ”

Edward sighs, grins against your neck. He pushes two of his calloused fingers deep inside of your tight hole. A reward. You scream, and wail, as he’s pumping them in and out of your cunt, in an obscenely wet noise.

“ Good girl ” he praises you, before sinking his teeth deep inside your neck, extracting another loud moan out of your throat. He then licks and sucks on the assaulted flesh, surely making marks, while his hand keeps fucking your aching hole. He penetrates you deeply and curls his fingers, touches your walls, exploring, looking for your soft spot, the one that will make you forget your own name. And Edward Nigma is a determined man. Your vulgar noises only encourage him, until your moans turn into a louder yell. Right here .

Edward torments your sensitive spot, alternating between curling his fingers, scissoring you, and thrusting in your burning hole. His fingers are glistering with your fluids, the cell is filled with lustful wet noises and moans. And the pleasure is building at a worrying speed.

“…so close, Edward” you sob. He tenderly nibbles on your neck and kisses your reddened flesh.

“Then come for me, dear”

He doesn’t stop, and doesn’t slow down. He hums and sighs in your ear, and this is all too much. He plunges his fingers one last time deep inside of you, curling them against your special spot, while his thumb lays flat on your clit, rubbing circles. It doesn’t take you long before the first wave of your orgasm crashes, and you cry out his name, tugging his hair. He softly moans at your grip, but doesn’t let go of you, even when your body shakes and trembles, he keeps stimulating you, extracting every last noise of you, until you beg for his mercy.

Once your body is numb and lifeless, Edward slowly removes his fingers in a wet sound. You gasp at the sudden absence, and close your eyes, exhausted. But the Riddler isn’t merciful.

Delicately yet firmly, he grabs your body, manipulates it, and flips you on your stomach. Your cheek is laying on your pillow, and a sheer veil of panic flashes in front of your eyes, but your body is too numb, too weakened to move. Not like you could move anyway. Edward already grabbed the back of your neck, keeping your head in place, while his other hand grabbed your hips and lifted them, exposing your most intimate parts right in front of him, flushed and inviting, your thighs coated in your fluids.

The perspective of being fucked by the Riddler is abnormally exciting to you, and a faint feeling of pleasure is already growing inside of your stomach. You feel his fingers rubbing your drenched hole, collecting as much as your fluids as possible. He then crawls his fingers higher, until he’s rubbing his lubricated fingers around your untouched hole. Oh .

“I’m afraid there aren’t any condoms available around here, so…” he explains, while drawing circles around your tight muscle with his thumb, then penetrates it slowly, delicately. You moan softly and welcome his digit, now slowly thrusting inside of you. Makes you feel warm. Feels good.

“Such a good whore. Taking me so well …” he murmurs, caressing your ass with his other hand as he removes his thumb and inserts his index finger instead, slowly followed by his middle finger. Stretching you delicately, scissoring you, getting you ready. Your body is immobile, and you completely surrender to the pleasure you’re feeling, this feeling of being possessed by the Riddler, used however he wants to.

When he removes his fingers, you gasp, already missing them. But the wait is very quickly over, as you feel the fat tip of his cock rubbing against your hole, one hand grabbing you by the waist. You moan as he’s spreading precum all over your hole, before slowly pushing inside of you. Fuck, it’s big, and you tense at first. Whimper. Panic.

“Now, now. Be a good girl, and do try to relax a bit, mh?” He encourages you, caressing your back. His words are intoxicating, and you breathe deeply, relaxing slightly, allowing him to penetrate you deeper. He hisses, loudly.

“Good girl. So perfect for me. Oh… ”

He progresses slowly inside of you, and you squirm around him, feeling his shaft inside of your stomach, burning your insides. He lets out one final moan once he’s balls deep, his stomach against your ass. He chuckles softly, rubbing your back.

“Tell me how it feels, whore . To be filled by the Riddler”

His voice is slightly harsher, as if his tenderness was only temporary.

“G… good. Feels good…” you sob, and the answer pleases him. His hands are grabbing your waist, and he starts thrusting. Slowly at first. He groans and curses. It feels like a burning metal bar piercing your insides, hitting nerves you didn’t know existed, and fuck does it feel good.

“God you’re so tight…” he hisses, and you can tell by the way he shakes that he’s holding back from ravaging you. The way he groans and moans is intoxicating, and the mere thought that you have this effect on him makes you dizzy. The thought that you’re his whore makes you want to be ruined, claimed.

“Harder… please…” you sob pathetically, and you don’t have to tell him twice, as he’s thrusting harder and faster deep inside your ass, loudly moaning as the grip on your hips tightens, surely leaving you marks tomorrow. He’s panting like an animal, and you probably look like one right now, fucking like beasts on the creaking bed.

“Look at you… begging for more…” he chuckles, thrusting so hard inside of you, ramming you into the bed, wrecking your dripping hole, his balls smacking against your sensitive cunt in an obscene wet sound. Feels like fire inside of you, like you’re getting split in half, and fuck it feels good. Insanely good. He’s shivering, hissing, cursing, you can tell he’s close.

“ Tell me what you are ” he orders, his voice breaking, the rocking movement of his hips getting irregular, frantic, more desperate. God, he’s close.

“ I’m yours! Your whore! ” you wail and sob, and cry out his name.

“Damn it– take it– take it all! ” he shouts shakingly, fucking you one last time as deep as it is humanly possible, one last thrust before you hear him groan loudly, spurting his essence inside of you. He lowers himself, laying his body on yours. He feels heavy. Burning. Sweaty. His hips rocks against you a few times, until he fills you entirely, until he’s completely drained inside of your wrecked hole.

He’s immobile, resting on top of you, panting heavily. You feel his drenched forehead against your shoulder blades, his hair caressing your skin. His cum is hot inside of you, and you feel him getting softer. When he takes his cock out of you, your hole is gaping. Thick and warm cum is dripping, there’s just so much of it as if he tried to breed you, as if he didn’t have an orgasm in months. He puts his large hands on your ass cheeks and spreads them, admiring how ruined you are. He smirks and chuckles, but there is no malice behind it. You push yourself on your back and stare at him gently. In a moment of clarity, a horrifying thought invades you.

“You think someone heard us?” you whisper.

He laughs.

“Oh, I hope all of Arkham heard us, dear”

#edward nigma #edward nygma #edward nashton #the riddler #arkham knight riddler #edward nigma x reader #edward nygma x reader #edward nashton x reader #the riddler x reader

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tumbleaboutit · 2 months ago

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This calls for a read more.

I'm currently part of a LARP, though admittedly it's more "tabletop with costumes" due to space limitations.

…oh gosh, it was fifteen fuckin' years ago now. I had just graduated and was hanging with some friends I'd met through online gaming, and they asked if I was interested in trying out tabletop. I'd been eyeballing a book that said "werewolf" on it because I thought werewolves were cool, and the rest is history.

Mash-up: We're using "Ghost Council" and "Gale Stalkers" because those are more appropriate names, but we still have the Get of Fenris and Crinos-born Garou because throwing those out with the bathwater was short-sighted. Also we made "redeemed" versions of the Mockery Breeds; they are absolutely playable and I've got write-ups for anyone who wants them. Oh, and were-elephants. We made a whole damn splat book for were-elephants as a birthday present for someone who really likes elephants. They are also completely playable.

I don't really have a favorite. So far, I've played a Child of Gaia, a Silent Strider, a Bone Gnawer, a Shadow Lord, and am currently playing a Silver Fang. I've enjoyed all of them for different reasons, and I'm looking forward to getting to the others.

I don't have a least favorite, but someone saying that the Get of Fenris is their favorite tribe usually makes me wary of them until they elaborate as to why. You gotta find the Get players who want to fight the bad Get players.

I tend to create characters collaboratively with another person, so I don't currently have any concepts in the pipe. But I do want to get around to playing all of the auspices (only Galliard left!) and all of the Tribes.

"Divide" is currently at the top of my list due to my Shadow Lord having used it as the (absolutely brutal) capstone of her Revenge Quest. If you're gonna fuck with a Shadow Lord, maybe don't pick the Lost Cub who weighed all her options and became a Shadow Lord on purpose.

Rite of Contrition, because it's always fun to see what item a character brings as an apology present, what that item says about them, and how the character they're apologizing to reacts.

Much like I don't have a favorite Tribe, I don't have a favorite Patron spirit either.

Bloody Bandages, due to the absolutely hilarious "leech dance" chiminage that my friend came up with: basically hopping around, legs together and arms flat at your sides, and then leaning toward people and making a slurping noise. You must perform it with a large group of people nearby so that you have many opportunities to slurp.

Most of the Frenzies I've had or seen have gone fairly well due to the presence of other Garou dog-piling the Frenzying one before they can do too much damage. But a Fostern Philodox player character did get killed by a Ahroun Cub in a Frenzy one time because they were alone together.

I'm pretty much just in it for the games!

Shadow Lord endears herself to Gale Stalker against his will and his better judgment. He is grumpy about it even after he dies.

Six official characters across games, plus various temps and NPCs as needed. Special shout-outs to NPCs "grumpy-ass gila monster Mokolé who beat up biker and stole his jacket", and the two Get of Fenris high school jocks who formed a pack under Goat as a Norse myth in-joke.

My first character was Emily Chews-on-Silver, a Child of Gaia Philodox, who grew up in the circus and shared her First Change with the lion Bastet that she performed with after they were attacked by Black Spirals. She was extremely shy and retiring outside of the ring, and the pack they were in kept getting swept up in these Grand Adventures that meant that the spirits kept promoting her in rank without her actually understanding much about what being a Philodox meant.

All of my characters eventually end up being growth characters in one way or another. But I get a lot of joy out of Stacia, my Mean Girl Shadow Lord Ragabash, because I have successfully made other people like her as much as I do.

Stacia I've played long enough to officially get her to her early twenties, so she's technically the oldest. Genie is the youngest, both because she's my newest character and also because she's lupus-born and hasn't even hit double-digits yet. They'd get along okay as long as they don't have to work too closely together; and they'd bond over their mutual addiction to Starbucks (caffeine and sugar for Stacia, Pup Cups for Genie).

Emily taught me that playing the "Shy" flaw when you already have IRL social anxiety isn't that much fun. I'm sure we share unofficial flaws/traits, but it's hard to put my finger on them from the inside.

Alice-in-the-Mirrors, whose Slip Sideways flaw was so bad that it would yeet her into the Deep Umbra, was meant to be an easy character that I could play whenever I managed to make the four-hour trip to game from graduate school. Ha. Hahahahaha. She turned into a personal growth character pretty fast.

Oh…no thank you. I don't want to be in the World of Darkness, and I have a very different skillset than any of my characters. If I absolutely had to, probably Alice.

Stacia, definitely. She'd be able to maintain my life instead of absolutely blowing it up.

Doc (short for "Document") didn't get much play and the game she was in didn't last very long. She's being recycled for parts and lives on in Genie (generally even-tempered Lupus born and raised in a wolf sanctuary).

I like to build characters collaboratively with a friend or two, WtA is great for that because you need a solid reason to not have a pack at least in the works.

Wyrm; the idea of "everything stays the same forever" is a fuckin' nightmare.

Luna; you don't get into werewolves without having a lot of feelings about the moon.

Older Brother; I'm an information professional IRL!

Shadow Lords, if only for the True Breed requirements of the Silver Fangs.

Wisdom keeps you alive long enough to get the other two.

Changing Breeds; I'm completely happy to keep playing werewolves and let other people have fun with the Fera. (Though I do have a concept for a redeemed Cockroach shifter…)

Hispo. I wanna be a wolf the size of a pony!

I'm skipping the bonus questions because I know a lot of people it would be fun to play with. As long as I have a good group, I know I'm going to have a good time.

WTA ASKS: ABOUT THE PLAYER EDITION

Inspired by (and drawing heavily from, with permission) @diableriedoll's vtm player asks!!! Werewolf divider by @strangergraphics :)

We all know everyone's characters, but what do we know about the player behind the Garou? Let's find out!

1.Are you a WtA player, storyteller, both or neither? If neither, how do you get your WtA fix? 2. How and when did you get into WtA? 3. Which edition do you play/ prefer? 4. What's your favorite tribe? Why? 5. What's your least favorite tribe? Why? 6. Which tribe/auspice haven't you played/ developed but would love to try? 7. What is your favorite Gift? Why? 8. What is your favorite Rite? Why? 9. What's your favorite patron spirit? Why? 10. What's your favorite Talisman or Talen? Why? 11. Describe your worst Brutal Result and/ or Frenzy that you've played/ seen/ suffered 12. What's your favorite piece of WtA Media? eg. Games, books- pick your fancy! 13. What's been your favorite interaction throughout your WtA experiences? Can be in game, playing video games.. anything.

You and Your Characters

14. How many characters do you have? 15. Who was your first Character? 16. Do you have a comfort character? What makes them special to you? 17. Who is the (in character) oldest and the (in character) youngest? Would they like each other? 18. Do any of your characters have a trait or flaw of your own? If so, what is it? 19. Do you have a character that was created from a dumb/ silly idea but now you can't imagine not having them? 20. You suddenly switch places with one of your characters, which one would you prefer to be? 21. One of your characters takes your place, which one would you prefer to control of your life? 22. Which character is least spoken about? Speak about them now! 23. Is there something specific that influences you for your character creations?

This or That

24. Weaver or Wyrm? 25. Luna or Helios? 26. Older Brother or Younger Brother? Middle Brother? 27. Silver Fang or Shadow Lords? 28. Glory, Honor, or Wisdom? 29. Changing Breeds or Mockery Breeds? 30. Hispo or Glabro?

BONUS QUESTIONS! You have been given a chance to play your perfect Chronicle, let's build it! 31. Who is your Storyteller? 32. Where and when is it set? 33. What is your Auspice? 34. What tribe do you join? 35. Your pack is yourself plus four other players. Who are they? (Can be anyone!). Anyone else you'd want to add to your sept?

#werewolf: the apocalypse #me me me meee

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maliro-t · 4 years ago

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this is maybe a weird ip combination, but i was talking to a friend yesterday about grief in tms5 compared to w*nd*v*sion bc the most recent ep got me thinking (this is a pretty long post about the former, sorry).

So Vision says “What is grief, if not love persevering?”, which is such a great line, and really resonated with a lot of people, including myself, and it’s really maybe the crux of this series that has been imo a really great exploration of grief. The whole ep was so impactful for me, and I had a moment after where I just went. Huh. In an entire season, tm never said that once. I think there are moments where they come close- Alice and Hamish’s conversation about his wife maybe, or that one fleeting genuine moment between Eliot and Fen in 5.11, or we could rope in the mountain of ghosts if you really stretch, but I think all of those still miss that mark.

So like, they frame the whole season around grief, but they don’t really say anything about it, or tell a valuable story about it. It feels honestly like they spend most of their time treating it like an obstacle that needs to be overcome and like, what are they trying to say with that? That it sucks? Because I would say that in general, people know that! Or was it that people who DON’T get over it have some sort of pity-worthy-but-ultimately-condemnable character defect? Like I’m sure they were aiming more to show how different people process things in different ways, and that wallowing forever can destroy you, which is...true, and maybe half executed well, but it also doesn’t feel valuable (especially when their queer characters are disproportionately targeted by it), and seems like it tries to put an acceptable timeline on Getting Over It Completely which just kinda Sucks. It probably wouldn’t harp on it this much if they hadn’t been so up their own asses at sdcc trying to explain how important and worthwhile this kind of story was.

It’s also part of why where Eliot ends up at the end of the season feels so heinous, because he really is in pretty much the same place he started; he’s the only character who really ISN’T given the opportunity to ‘overcome’ grief. Again I don’t even feel like that’s a valuable story, but he just feel so singled out and it fucking Sucks that even within their shitty framework he ends up kind of damned. I think the stuff with Charlton was supposed to counteract it a little- I maintain that he says some good things that sort of recognize why tdk stuff was maybe not great, and as much as I Hate this I do actually think those little mosaic parallels were Intentional as part of that. The way Eliot actually reacts though is so not indicative of growth or any actual healing- it feels more regressive, like s1 Eliot just kind of taking what’s being offered to him to cope, and it’s Weird and Sad, besides the whole thing just being laughable.

And like, for the record, I’ve said this a few times, but I am someone who is really glad they watched s5, and really didn’t agree with a lot of the issues people on here took with it. But that also doesn’t mean that it was actually good on the whole, and one of it’s main failures was...kind of the exact thing they apparently felt so strongly about they had to make a whole season for which just. ugh.

My main reaction after 5.03 aired (which I love, and am grateful for) was just. AGONY. I could not fathom why this story about so much pain (and specifically queer pain) was the one that they wanted to tell, and unfortunately by the end there just isn’t really enough pay off for it to be worth it.

Anyways idk if any of this makes sense lol, I’m kind of rambling at this point and I don’t know if anyone who follows me even Watched season 5 besides like One (1) person lmao. I have more to say Always, even like a year after the fact.

#it speaks #apologies to anyone who read all of this with their eyeballs #i can't get myself to shut up apparently! this is my version of journaling #also fwiw i'm mooching off my sister's d+ account lol; i'm not gonna pay disney to watch the Singular show i was interested in #edit like 2 weeks later: i'm pretty sure no one will try to pick this bone w me but. i did go rewatch that fen and eliot scene in 5.11 #bc that's the scene that cames closest to this in my memory #gonna be as brief as i can bc this is really for me #so el does say you can love something even after it's gone BUT there's a nuance that separates it from the vision line which i think #is important #bc the reason that line really really resonated with me is bc it recognizes that the grief itself is a part of that love #if that makes sense- like the being in pain etc that's all just. a continuation of that love; that you aren't loving them still in Spite of #grief or loss etc #it's the merging of the two that felt significant to me; and it really felt like that was missing from tm (if not being pushed against)#blah blah blah #sorry to sound fake deep in my defense i didn't write the line #but u know. it was a little bit deep for me #pretty simple but also just something i needed to hear. got my gears grinding

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maswritingblog · 4 years ago

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The Arrangement - Part Four

Summary: After their first failure, Lucy and Marcus continue with the schedule as planned and hope for the best.

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY!), Oral (f receiving), mentions of trying to conceive, mentions of fertility, pregnancy tests (in case that is triggering for anyone) Unedited because I literally finished it and wanted to post it, so sorry for any mistakes.

A/N: Here is the next part! I hope you all enjoy it and I once again apologize for the long wait for this chapter. It’s a long one, coming in at about 7k words.

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Lucy’s phone chimed on her desk beside her, pulling her attention away from the email she was composing. She had been needing a break, her eyes starting to get tired from staring at her computer screen all morning. She took the opportunity to draft the email and sat back in her cushy office chair, unlocking her phone to view the notification.

Ovulation day!

The two words were framed by little flowers from the theme for the dumb cycle tracking app she’d downloaded a few days after she had started sleeping with Marcus. She hadn’t realized it was her ovulation day and she cursed inwardly; not only was it Tuesday, she also had to work late tonight, so spending an extra night at Marcus’s wasn’t an option.

Dammit. She sighed heavily, placing her phone back on her desk as she thought for a moment. She couldn’t afford to not stay late tonight, but Marcus couldn’t afford to lose one of the best days they had. That really only left one option…but she wasn’t sure if Marcus would agree to it, or if she was up for it either.

She debated it for a long few minutes before she decided it was a risk she was willing to take, and she grabbed her phone to send Marcus a message.

Meet me in the parking garage in five minutes. Level 8.

She hoped she wasn’t being too crazy, that he wouldn’t think she was out of her mind when she revealed her plan. Honestly, she was out of her mind for even thinking about doing something like this at work.

Marcus’s reply came back almost instantly. Everything okay?

Instead of answering, she dropped her phone on her desk and pushed her chair back. She made sure her computer was locked and secured before slipping out of her office and heading towards the elevators. She tried not to look into Marcus’s office on the way, though she knew he must be confused about the situation.

She wanted the mystery to work in her favor.

Level eight of the parking garage was one of the levels that didn’t get much traffic. It was where the extra government vehicles were parked and agents would use them occasionally when they couldn’t use the ones assigned to them. The secluded level would be perfect so long as there weren’t any agents needing a temporary vehicle.

Lucy rode the elevator to floor six and got off, walking quickly to the SUV she’d been issued for her team but didn’t get to use that often. It might as well get some use now, even if it wasn’t exactly what the big-wigs had in mind when they’d handed her the keys.

Driving up to the eighth floor, she moved down the two rows of matching black SUVs and finally parked at the end of the row on the left side. She only hoped it was far enough away that nobody would notice anything.

She tried not to think about the fact that she was slightly turned on by the idea of doing this. Maybe it was the thrill of getting caught, of the consequences of being found doing something so inappropriate on government property.

Stepping out of her car, she walked around to lean against the back end as she waited for Marcus. It only took another minute before the elevator dinged and he stepped out, looking around with a look of confusion on his face before he spotted her and headed her way.

“Lucy? What’s going on?” he asked, coming to a stop in front of her, his brown eyes searching her face for any kind of answer.

For a brief moment, she almost wanted to chicken out. It would be easy to change her mind, even if she would have to come up with an explanation as to why she had dragged him to the parking garage in the middle of the work day.

“So, it’s Tuesday,” she started slowly, trying to decide how to approach the situation.

He nodded slowly. “…yes…”

Lucy laughed lightly, more at the situation that she’d put herself in more than anything else. “It’s Tuesday, and I have to stay late tonight to work on the briefing for tomorrow. But the thing is…I’m ovulating. Today’s the highest chance for pregnancy according to my stupid app, so I didn’t want to miss the chance to try.”

As she rambled, he seemed to put it together. His eyes widened nearly comically and he glanced around the parking level as if someone would be lurking in the shadows watching them.

“You—you want to do it here?” he asked, voice laced with surprise. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

She nodded quickly. “I know it’s crazy, but this could be the day and this is the only time we’ll have to try. We don’t exactly have time to drive anywhere offsite, and I’m not about to do it in a bathroom or a supply closet where anyone could walk in. I figured this would be the best place since nobody really comes up to this level.”

Marcus sputtered, seeming to lose all ability to speak. “W-What? How—How?”

She wondered if he was flustered because he thought she was nuts, or if he liked the idea. She had to admit that the prospect of getting caught had an affect on her in a way she hadn’t realized before; perhaps it had something to do with breaking the rules.

“The back seats lay down, leaves a good amount of room in the trunk. But we don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable with it; I just won’t be able come over tonight and I didn’t want to miss an ovulation day.”

He was silent and she couldn’t figure out what he was thinking. Sometimes she felt like she could read Marcus like a book, and sometimes she felt like he was locked in a safe and she didn’t know the combination. As he eyeballed the back of the SUV, she wondered if she had truly lost her mind when she had thought this was a good idea.

Finally, he gave her a pointed look. “Are you comfortable with this? I don’t want you to think you have to do this just for me.”

Of course, he was being a gentleman about this. Of course, he was putting her comfort above his. It was so on brand for him, and yet that didn’t stop her from being surprised by it. She appreciated it, while also wishing he would think of himself more often.

She chuckled, shaking her head. “I’m the one suggesting this, remember?”

Marcus paused in thought for a moment, his eyes moving from the SUV to her multiple times before he finally nodded. “Yeah, okay.” He agreed.

She wasn’t sure why she was surprised, maybe because she thought public sex was a line he wasn’t willing to cross. If she were being honest with herself, it wasn’t a line she had ever imagined crossing either. Desperate times called for desperate measures, though, right? Something told her this wasn’t what the person who had coined that phrase had in mind.

“Okay.” She echoed, moving to one of the back doors and motioning for him to go around to the other side.

Pulling the door open, she reached for the lever to lower the seat on her side and watched as Marcus did the same. With the back row lying flat, there was plenty of room for the two of them to lay down, which seemed like the best way to not be spotted should anyone actually come to this level. Climbing in was a bit awkward, but they managed to get the doors shut behind them. Kneeling in the back of the SUV, they stared at each other for a beat.

“So, how do we do this?” Marcus wondered, asking the same question she had been mulling over in her head.

She didn’t know why she had to have the answer for everything, but it could have something to do with the fact that she had initiated this encounter. She had been confident about this idea when she’d come up with it, but now she found herself blanking on the next step. Perhaps she didn’t have it in her to be this spontaneous?

“I didn’t really have this all planned out…” she admitted slowly. The awkwardness felt like the first time all over again, and it almost made her laugh.

Marcus nodded. “Okay, so I don’t really want to be caught buck naked at work, so I’m thinking that we stay as clothed as possible.” He suggested.

It was something she could agree with. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best. So, pants only then?”

“Pants only.”

Lucy reached down to work on her belt and he did the same. Once her pants were undone and she’d pushed them down her thighs slightly, she sat fully and started pushing them down her legs. It wasn’t the easiest task in the back of the SUV and she found she had to lay down a bit to even get them to her knees.

Marcus’s hands were gently pushing hers away then and he pulled the tight slacks down her legs.

“If I had known this was gonna happen, I would have worn a skirt today.” She joked, slipping her shoes off so he could pull her pants off and push them out of the way.

“Definitely would have been easier.” He teased as he slotted his hips between her thighs and leaned over her to press his lips to hers.

His belt was hanging open, the cool metal pressing against the skin of her inner thigh and making her jump slightly. Their tongues tangled and she wanted to run her hands through his hair the way he liked, but she didn’t want to make it obvious what he’d been doing away from his desk. Instead, she reached down and finished opening his pants for him, lowering the zipper and slipping her hand inside to palm him over his briefs.

Marcus groaned into her mouth, pressing his hips into her hand as his teeth nipped at her bottom lip and then her chin before his lips returned to hers in a heated kiss. He rolled his hips against her palm and she squeezed him gently, pulling another groan from his throat, followed by his hand grasping her wrist in warning.

Lucy chuckled against his lips, beginning to squeeze again only to be surprised by his next move.

The grip on her wrist tightened and he yanked her hand from his pants, pinning her wrist down next to her head. He pulled away to stare down at her, his chest heaving as his eyes narrowed playfully at her.

“What?” she asked in feigned innocence, stifling a laugh.

For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he simply shook his head at her with a laugh of his own. He released her wrist and supported his weight on his hand next to her head, the other reaching down to begin pushing his pants and briefs down.

Taking it as a cue, she reached down to do the same with her underwear, sliding them down her legs as best she could as he pushed his down to his knees.

“Can’t believe we’re actually doing this.” He commented as he situated himself between her legs again, his erection bobbing against his stomach where he’d pulled his dress shirt up out of the way of any potential messes.

She wanted to ask him if it was as exhilarating to him as it was to her, but she thought that maybe he didn’t see it that way, that he’d find it weird that she did. She’d discovered a lot of things about herself since they’d begun sleeping together, a lot of things that excited her despite the fact that she’d never considered them in that light before. Perhaps she was more depraved than she realized.

“We don’t have to.” She reminded him, just in case he was having second thoughts. She wasn’t sure if he was given the way he was already so ready, the tip of him already leaking. Despite his body’s reaction, though, she wanted to give him the chance to back out.

Marcus’s met her gaze, and his voice came out soft despite the way his eyes had darkened with lust. “I want to.” He reassured her while silently asking if she still wanted this as well.

There was a long beat of silence as she stared up at him. She admired his handsome features, the way a lock of his perfectly styled hair had fallen onto his forehead and the way his nose curved down towards his plump lips. That single dimple that she found so endearing.

It still baffled her how he didn’t already have a beautiful wife and family.

She found herself unable to respond verbally, so she reached up to pull his mouth back down to hers.

He got the hint, pressing his body down close to hers as he reached down to position himself at her entrance. He slid his tip up and down her folds a couple of times, gathering her wetness before pressing into her slowly. He eased in until his hips were flush against hers, both moaning in unison as their lips parted, their foreheads pressed together.

There was no going back now; Lucy’s knees brushed against his sides as she hitched her legs up further on his hips, pulling him deeper inside her with a soft sigh against his mouth.

His hips drew back slowly and then he slid forward again, repeating the movement a few times. As good as he felt, as good as the slide of him inside her walls made her feel, she knew they didn’t have the same amount of time they usually did and anyone could come up to this floor at any time.

“We have to hurry.” She gasped as he filled her again.

He pulled almost completely out of her and paused. For just a moment she thought he might stop, but then he thrust forward, driving into her hard and fast, wasting no time before he did it again, and again.

Lucy clung to his shoulders, hands fisting in the material of his shirt as she held on, small and breathy moans escaping her each time he filled her. She knew his shirt might be wrinkled by her hands, but at least he could cover it with his suit jacket if he needed to. For now, all she needed to be focused on was the pleasure rolling through her with his movements, and the hope that the risk they were taking would pay off in the end.

The rhythm they had created had the SUV rocking gently; if anyone saw they would definitely know what was happening inside.

Marcus was hovering over her, supporting his weight on one hand as the other hooked under her right knee to press her leg closer to her chest. The new angle had him driving deeper inside and brushing against her just right; the slap of his hips against hers as he worked at a bruising pace only echoed by their sounds of pleasure.

One of Lucy’s hands scrambled down from his shoulder, desperate for purchase. She gripped at his side where his shirt was raised, nails biting into the skin as she rolled her hips up to meet his.

Marcus groaned above her in response to the scratch of her nails and as he thrust forward again, he took a moment to grind his pelvis against hers.

“Oh, fuck.” She gasped, reaching up to cup his jaw and pull his mouth back down to hers.

Their tongues tangled as they moaned into each other’s mouths, hips working together to get them closer to their release. Just as Lucy felt herself approaching the cliff, the ding of the elevator startled them.

They both jumped, freezing their movements as Marcus hunched over her as if he was trying to shield her semi-nude body from any prying eyes. His head lifted slightly to peek out the window and Lucy waited with baited breath for someone to catch them.

They would surely be fired if they were caught having sex at work.

Marcus’s brown eyes were locked on whoever had arrived on the parking level. The sound of voices filled the concrete structure and Lucy thought for sure things were going to end badly.

Unexpectedly, Marcus slowly rolled his hips against hers, causing her eyes to flutter involuntarily.

“Wha—?”

“Ssshh.” Marcus shushed softly, eyes not leaving the window as he pulled out slowly only to fill her again at the same pace.

Was he really doing this? As he rocked his hips again, it seemed he was.

His eyes never left the window as he moved slowly over her. She could hear voices on the parking level, although they were several vehicles away. Each push and pull of his hips had him brushing up against the sensitive spot inside her and it only served to drive her closer and closer to the edge.

Although she tried to stop it, she couldn’t completely hide the small moan that escaped her as his hips ground against hers. She knew she needed to keep quiet for both their sakes, but it just felt too good.

Marcus gently shushed her again, the tips of his first three fingers pressing delicately to her lips to keep her quiet.

God, there was something about the need to keep quiet that had her so close.

The soft thudding of car doors shutting echoed through the parking garage and Marcus used the opportunity to snap his hips against hers just a little harder, pulling another whimper from her throat as her eyes fluttered closed.

An engine started before the vehicle could be heard driving down the ramp exiting the level and Marcus pulled his hand away from her mouth, driving his hips forward as he returned to the pace they’d set before the interruption.

Lucy tried to ignore the way she missed his fingers over her lips, choosing to drag his mouth back down to hers for a heated kiss, lifting her hips to meet his hard thrusts as one of his arms wrapped around her to hold her body against his.

“Fuck.” Lucy gasped against his mouth, feeling herself once again on the precipice. One of her hands fisted in his shirt again, while the other seemed to have a mind of its own and slid around to grasp a handful of his backside as if it would help guide his movements. She couldn’t think straight, all she knew was how good he felt, and then she was tumbling over the edge with a string of moans.

Marcus buried his face in her neck, working her through her orgasm with a groan of his own at the way she pulsed around him. His arm tightened around her, fingers digging into her ribcage as his thrusts become shallow and deliberate as he desperately chased after his own release.

Lucy’s hand left his shirt, reaching up to smooth through the hair on the back of his head as if she was encouraging him to let go. Her nails dug into his backside as she gently tugged on the soft locks of hair, eliciting a moan from where he was tucked into her neck.

A little encouragement was all it took and he was there, warmth blossoming inside her as he filled her with rope after rope. He moaned slowly, nuzzling against her neck as he came down from his high.

They laid there like that for a minute or two as they cooled down, tangled up in each other despite the fact that they didn’t have the luxury of their normal wind down time. Even though they needed to get back to work before anyone noticed they were both missing, neither of them moved. Perhaps it had been the fact that they had almost been caught or that they had done this at work, but it had made this time more exhilarating, and in turn had exhausted them.

Regardless, Lucy didn’t mind a little extra time with his arms around her.

After what felt like five minutes or more, she rubbed both her hand up and down his back slowly. “We have to get back to work.” She spoke softly, her voice raw.

Marcus nodded against her throat. “Mmhmm.” He mumbled, arm squeezing around her tighter for several seconds before he slowly pulled back to look down at her, his eyes darkened with something other than lust.

Lucy’s fingers brushed over his cheekbone and she glanced at the fogged over window over their heads. “We totally missed the opportunity to recreate Titanic.” She noted with a chuckle.

He laughed lightly, brushing her hair off her forehead. “Maybe next time.” He offered, still slightly out of breath from the exertion.

Lucy raised an eyebrow at him. “Hmm…are you trying to get caught with your pants down regularly?”

“Well, I was thinking we’d park somewhere more discrete, but if you wanted to do it in the middle of the road, that’s fine too.”

She shook her head at him, rolling her eyes playfully. “As thrilling as it was to almost lose my job, I think we should stick with discretion in the future.”

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. “Oh, it was thrilling for you, huh?” he teased.

Another eyeroll. “Getting less thrilling by the second.”

He snickered, leaning down to press his lips against hers in a chaste kiss that quickly turned heated.

She allowed it for a few seconds before pushing against his chest. “Okay, okay, we gotta get back to work.” As much as she would have enjoyed potentially going for another round, she knew they could both only be away from their offices for so long before it became suspicious.

“I know, I know.” He sighed, taking a second before he slipped out of her and rolled onto his back, beginning to put his clothes back together.

Lucy reached for her underwear, pulling them back on before moving for her pants. It was a bit awkward trying to redress in the back of the SUV, but they quickly got themselves presentable.

“Okay, I’m gonna drive this back to where I originally parked and you can go back to your office. That way we don’t show back up at the same time.”

He nodded as he opened the car door and climbed out. “That’s probably a good idea. Don’t want anyone getting suspicious.”

She rounded the back end of the car and reached up to fix his collar before smoothing her hands over the wrinkles on his shoulders from her hands. “Well, I think they’ll probably figure it out when I get pregnant.” She shrugged nonchalantly.

Marcus paused, eyes widening slightly as he took in her words. Lucy didn’t seem to register what she’d said, adjusting her own shirt as best she could using the reflection in the car window.

“When?”

She turned at the surprise in his voice, finding his face open with awe. “That’s the whole point of this, isn’t it?” She teased him with a chuckle. Inwardly, she too realized that she’d said when instead of if. Maybe it was just positive thinking, or maybe she just knew it was going to work out for him. As good a guy as Marcus Pike was, he deserved to have a family and surely whatever deity reigned above would see that.

“Y-Yeah,” he swallowed hard. “I guess it was just different hearing you sound so sure about it.”

“Look, I know I’ve been sort of a Debbie Downer the last few days—”

“—No! It was rough when things didn’t work out, I understand why you were upset. I was, too. It’s just nice to hear you feeling positive again.”

Lucy grinned at him, stepping closer and resting her hands on his hips. “Well, that would be the endorphins, probably. You know, from the mind-blowing sex we just had?”

He couldn’t help but laugh in response, nodding his head in agreement. “Well, I suppose you’re right.”

“I always am.”

Stretching onto her toes, she pressed her lips against his in a chaste kiss before she stepped away. If she let it go any further, they might end up in the SUV again.

“Okay, get back upstairs before someone notices.”

“As you wish.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peeing on a stick always felt so weird to her. She’d had her fair share of pregnancy scares in college, so it was nothing new, but the act of trying to land as much urine on the tip of a stick as she could was always odd. Having to stop several times to use multiple tests was just as strange, but soon she was standing in front of the bathroom sink with three pregnancy tests in front of her.

Two minutes and she’d know. Two minutes and her life would either change for the better or continue to be stressful for the short amount of time Marcus had left before his surgery.

“Are you sure it’s not too soon?” the man in question asked from where he was sitting on the edge of his bed.

She’d opened the bathroom door after she’d peed on the sticks, not wanting to wait for the results alone.

“I don’t know, these tests say you can take them as early as ten days after unprotected sex.” She said, studying the box again. “I mean, we’ve done it plenty of times since the SUV, but something about that time felt like it worked.”

“Probably just those endorphins.”

She gave him a wry look, rolling her eyes even though she knew he was probably right. She couldn’t explain it, but something about that time felt right. And, yeah, maybe it was just the rush she’d gotten from almost being caught or the fact that it had been one of their best moments together, but she still needed to check. Besides, the only harm that could come from a negative result would be disappointment, and she was already chalk full of that.

“It’s been two minutes.” Marcus said softly, breaking her from her thoughts.

She took a deep breath and stepped closer, leaning down to check the tests. Her shoulders slumped.

They were all negative.

When Marcus spoke again, his voice was closer, in the room with her. “Maybe we did it too early.” He offered softly.

Lucy sighed heavily, scooping up the tests and dropping them in the trash can with a loud thunk. This was the first time they’d tried actually taking tests—the first failure had come in the form of her menstrual cycle—and she had hoped for the kind of excitement that happened in movies all the time where the couple takes the test and see the positive result and cry in each other’s arms; that was a sham.

“Hey, hey,” He seemed to pick up on her mood shift immediately, his hands moving to rest on her shoulders. “It’s probably just too early. Don’t worry, we still have plenty of time.”

“Plenty of time? Marcus, you only have like forty days before your surgery. I thought this would be easier. Like…I know that people struggle with this stuff all the time but we’ve also been having a lot of unprotected sex. How could one of those times not have taken?”

He maneuvered her body to face him, his hands returning to her shoulders where he continued to squeeze reassuringly. “Sometimes it just takes time, remember? Don’t get so stressed out, it doesn’t help.”

“It’s hard not to be stressed when your clock is running out.”

There was a long silence between them before he perked up. “Let’s go out tonight. Blow off some steam, have some drinks. It’ll be good for the both of us.”

Lucy shook her head. “We’re not supposed to drink, remember?”

He rolled his eyes. “One night won’t hurt us, I promise. We both need to relax a little.”

For a moment, she thought about it. What could it hurt to have some fun for one night? If the stress was already ruining things for them, then alcohol could only help, right? If it loosened her up and made her less stressed, that had to help a bit. Perhaps it was a good idea.

Finally, she caved. “Okay, okay. Let’s go out.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucy couldn’t contain the giggle that escaped her as they stumbled into her apartment a few hours later. She was lingering somewhere between tipsy and fully drunk, feeling good after a night drinking away her worries; they weren’t supposed to drink while trying to conceive, at least according to all the research, but it had been nice to unwind after feeling so stressed out. Stress wasn’t good for conceiving either, so she figured alcohol wouldn’t hurt this once.

Marcus, who was equally feeling the effects of the alcohol, locked the door behind them and ushered her into the kitchen. He immediately went for the cabinet he knew housed her glasses and pulled one down, filling it with water from the faucet and taking a gulp before handing it to her.

Even wasted he was a gentleman.

Their eyes locked over the rim of the glass as she drank and she slowly lowered the glass to the countertop, eyes never leaving his. The silence was palpable, the tension in the room so thick she could cut it with a knife if she wanted to. She reached for him and he met her halfway, their mouths meeting in a searing kiss.

His hands were all over her as hers bunched in his shirt, their tongues tangling, and Lucy was reminded once again that she wasn’t as good at keeping things casual as she would have preferred. She wondered if he felt the same or if this was easier for him.

He trailed kissed down her jaw and neck, nipping at her skin gently and soothing over the spots with a flick of his tongue as she panted, a whimper escaping her as he sucked lightly on that sensitive spot beneath her ear.

He didn’t stop there. He pressed kisses to her collarbone and then her chest, moving lower until he was kneeling in front of her. His hands brushed against the skin of her thighs and slipped beneath the hem of her skirt, his eyes turning up to meet hers as he pushed the fabric until it was bunched around her hips.

She gasped as his lips pressed against her inner thigh, light as a feather as he trailed kisses upwards. In all the time they’d spent together, they hadn’t done this—they’d been more focused on getting straight to the point—and she felt like her heart was about to explode out of her chest.

Fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her panties, his eyes on hers once again as he began to drag them down her hips and thighs until they fell to pool around her ankles. She stepped out of them, kicking them aside as she gripped the edge of the counter in anticipation. She was already soaked.

His hand gripped underneath her left knee and he lifted the leg to hook it over his shoulder. His eyes finally left hers as he began trailing kisses up her leg from her knee until he reached the spot she wanted him most. There was a moment of pause as he seemed to take her in, before he leaned forward and dragged his tongue through her folds in one smooth stroke, ending at the bundle of nerves, which he circled slowly with the tip of his tongue.

Lucy gasped, one hand leaving the counter to thread her fingers through his hair. Her eyes fell closed as she relished the feeling.

He certainly knew what he was doing as he got to work, and before long she was moaning breathlessly as she clung to him. She canted her hips slowly against his mouth, and she wasn’t sure which she liked more: his tongue on her clit or when his tongue trailed further down and his nose rubbed against it just right.

Her right leg was shaking as it tried to support her weight as she verged on the edge, her body was on fire. She wanted to ask how he’d gotten so good at this, but she didn’t want to think about the women in his past too much either.

His tongue flicked her clit once more before his mouth closed around it and he sucked lightly. It was all it took to send her over the precipice with a whine. Her fingers tugged on his hair and she struggled to stay upright, and he gripped her hips to keep her standing as he lapped at her center and slowly brought her down from her high.

“Shit.”

Marcus chuckled against her, pulling away to look up at her once more; his face was shiny from her wetness, and he licked his lips before wiping his face on the back of his hand as he stood.

She reached for him, pulling his mouth back to hers for a kiss, tasting herself on him. That had definitely sobered her up. She could feel his hardness pressing against her hip and although her legs were shaking, the release sent a thrill through her and she reached down to quickly undo his belt.

Perhaps he was still feeling the effects of the alcohol, or maybe going down on her had sent him into a frenzy like some kind of shark, because he gripped her hips and turned her around to face the other way. As her hands landed on the countertop, she could hear his belt jingling and then the unzipping of his pants. Her teeth bit into the pillow of her bottom lip in anticipation, still amped up from her high.

The rustling of fabric told her he’d freed himself, and then his hands were on her hips; he pushed the skirt of her dress up higher and stepped closer, the heat radiating off his body sending shivers down her spine. There seemed to be a moment of hesitation and then he asked with a raspy voice: “Is this okay?”

It was something she found she really loved about him—he had already brought her to orgasm with his tongue and they’d had sex numerous times, but he was still asking if it was okay to take her from behind. Anyone else would have laughed, but she found it to be very attractive.

“Yes.” She replied, barely over a whisper at the thought of what was to come.

He nudged her feet further apart with one of his and then she felt the tip of him brushing through her folds. She leaned forward over the counter more and angled her hips better and then he was pushing forward slowly until he was fully seated inside her.

She moaned softly at the feeling, pressing back against him.

Marcus pressed his face into her hair, inhaling her scent as he remained still for a moment as if he was collecting himself, or maybe gathering the strength to continue. Then, ever so slowly, he withdrew until just the tip was left inside of her. He paused again, adjusted his grip on her hips, and then thrust forward quickly to fill her completely. He repeated the motion several times until he was pounding into her.

She wasn’t quite sure how he managed to be gentle and rough at the same time, and the pace he had chosen surprised her; not that she didn’t think he had it in him, but that it was new. If it stole the breath from her lungs, she wasn’t complaining. He mouthed at her neck and shoulder, where the thin strap of her dress had fallen down her arm. The contrast between the gentle grazing of his teeth on her skin and the brutal thrusts inside her had her weak in the knees.

“Fuck.” She moaned, doubling over to press her forehead to the countertop, relishing in the cool surface against her heated skin.

Marcus’s hands were gripping her hips tightly, his own hips meeting her backside over and over and creating a delicious noise that echoed off the kitchen tiles, the grunts and groans spilling from his lips matched her own. One of his hands smoothed up her back and he gripped her shoulder, angling his hips on the next thrust and pulling her back against him.

Lucy’s breath left her again in a string of moans as the new angle hit perfectly every time.

“Stop that racket!” a voice shouted from the other side of the wall, along with a fist pounding.

She couldn’t help but laugh at her neighbor, an elderly man who made tons of noise but hated when anyone else made even a peep. She heard Marcus chuckling behind her, but the intrusion only seemed to spur him on and his hips smacked harder against hers. It had her moaning louder, and she realized that had been his intention all along.

Though she probably wouldn’t admit it, she liked that he wanted to antagonize her neighbor.

The hand that had been at her shoulder slid down her side and around her front, dipping between her legs to circle her clit with the pads of his fingers. As she reached to grip the edge of the counter, her arm knocked into the forgotten glass of water and sent it tumbling to the floor where it surprisingly didn’t shatter. Neither one of them paid it any mind as their releases approached rapidly.

The neighbor was pounding on the wall again, but it was doing him more harm than good as the sounds echoed louder against the tiles.

“I am going to call the landlord!” the elderly man yelled on the other side.

“S-So call them!” Lucy shouted back, just as her orgasm hit her like a freight train. If the neighbor hadn’t made such a big deal, she would have tried to stifle her moans, but instead she lifted her head from where it had been resting on the countertop and let him hear it just because she knew it would infuriate him.

Marcus’s face was buried in her neck and his warm breath huffed against her skin as he laughed at her reaction. His movements were frantic, desperate, as he chased his own release and it didn’t take long for him to stiffen behind her. He pressed his body close to hers and groaned into her ear as he filled her.

They were still for a long moment, panting as they came down.

“I don’t think your neighbor likes you.” He joked, pressing a kiss to her neck.

Lucy laughed out loud, knowing it would also annoy the man in question. “I don’t really care.” She shrugged the shoulder his head wasn’t resting against.

“I’ll leave earbuds on his doormat.”

“No, let him listen. It’s probably the most action he’s gotten in decades.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s a Tuesday night two weeks later that it happens. She’s reorganizing her bathroom purely due to boredom and she stumbles across a box of pregnancy tests. She peeked inside and felt her heart race a little; there was one test left.

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she pulled the test out and debated using it. They had been keeping up with their schedule, meeting at his place minus a couple of times when they really wanted to annoy her neighbor. Even though the three tests she’d taken two weeks ago had been negative, it didn’t mean she wasn’t pregnant then. False negatives happened all the time if the test was taken too early.

Maybe now is the right time.

She ripped the plastic wrapper off the test and moved to the toilet, glad she hadn’t used the bathroom yet. As she finished and set the test on the sink so she could wash her hands, she glanced up at herself in the mirror.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Luce.” She whispered to herself. She knew if it came back negative, which it more than likely would, it would only hurt more.

She had to step out of the room because she knew it would only make the minutes go by slower. What was that saying? A watched pot never boils? So, a watched pregnancy test never develops? She moved to the kitchen to start putting away the dishes in the dishwasher. By the time she finished, five minutes had passed.

It was time.

“Shit.” She whispered to herself, shuffling nervously towards the bathroom.

What was she going to do if it was negative? Marcus didn’t have much time left, if it wasn’t going to happen then that would break both their hearts.

But what if it was positive? It was what they’d wanted all along, but she couldn’t help but feel her stomach flip with nerves at the idea that all their efforts had paid off. It wasn’t because she didn’t want a baby, but because she did.

The test was sitting upright on the counter, all it would take was for her to step forward and she’d know. One step forward. It was just one step.

Knowing if she didn’t do it now, she’d never do it, she stepped forward quickly and snatched the test up, lifting it to stare down at the tiny plastic window.

Her heart jumped into her throat.

It was positive.

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A/N: I didn’t add pregnancy on the list of warnings because I didn’t want to spoil it. But also, if you are reading a fic that is specifically about getting pregnant, that is kind of a given.

Tag list: (strikethrough means it wouldn’t let me tag you)

@absurdthirst @meanperegrine @hopeamarsu @bison-writes @giselatropicana @melispunk @hnt-escape @cheekygeek05 @bluemoon-glen @star-wars-hell @lawfulgranola @underwaterwonderscapes @words-way-of-life @kesskirata @rosiefridayrogersunday-reads @nicolethered @fangirl-316 @finnisrioting @janelongxox @hellovanessax @a-trial-run-on-paper @christina-loves @moonlightburned @generallybrontidefeelings @shakespeareanwannabe @griscka75 @neganwifey25-blog @tacticalsparkles @daffodin @fastandfeminist @valentinasubmarina @a-skov @ptutts @librariantothejedi @janebby @redsilentwolf28 @tuskens-mando @spideysimpossiblegirl @skeletonstwins

Please let me know if you would like to be added to (or removed from) the tag list!

#The Arrangement #marcus pike #marcus pike smut #pedro pascal smut #marcus pike fic #the mentalist #pedro pascal fic #mywriting #didn't add pregnancy as a warning bc i didn't want to spoil it so i apologize

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carlatsukinamistolemyhamsandwich · 3 years ago

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Siren’s Reflections (Siren!Shin x Reader, Part 2)

Happy Shin’s Daylight release day! My apologies for the long wait with this one but it is finally here!

This one shot takes place alongside Siren’s Call (which I would strongly recommend you read before tackling this one), rather than acting as a sequel as I wanted a chance to explore Shin’s perspective. I do intend to write a part 3, which will act as a direct continuation of the events in Siren’s Call but there are a couple of other fics I want to finish before getting to it. That’s enough rambling from me, enjoy~

Potential triggers include: some violent imagery, mention of consumption of human flesh and magical compulsion, If anyone needs me to add any other warnings then please let me know!

Shin hated the lagoon. He hated the calm, gentle waters that felt like a mockery of the roaring ocean he’d been born in. He hated the dull, placid fish, so slow nearly all of them had been ripped apart and feasted on by his kin after only a couple of nights of them being contained. He hated all of it, almost as much as he hated the Mer King for sealing him there.

And that was before the wasting sickness had struck.

As he floated in the cool dark waters, the last rays of sunlight receding from the horizon, it was impossible to escape the memories of watching his people degrade and fall apart, withering into nothing. A fate he’d believed he would share, resigning himself to it the night he’d watched his brother’s diminished form finally collapse in on itself, like all his insides had rotted away, and the outside was the last thing to go.

It wasn’t the first time he’d resigned himself to death. That had been when he was prostrated on the seafloor before his brother, held down by underlings of that damned sea snake while they accused him of invading their territory—as if they didn’t know the whole ocean rightfully belonged to him and his kin. Shin still couldn’t understand why his brother had bowed his head in exchange for his life, still felt the rage and humiliation of it burning whenever he caught sight of his own sunken left eyelid in his reflection.

He did so now, glancing down at the faintly rippling surface of the water and seeing a dark outline of his own face reflected back at him. Shin remembered thinking he’d have been better off dead when his brother’s claw had gouged out his eyeball—a part of him still did—but things were different now. Not only did he have a chance at escaping and restoring his once grand race, but he would also be achieving what his brother, in the end, could not.

It had just been the two of them for a time, after their father also fell to the sickness. They hadn’t even been able to perform the funeral rites for him; where a siren’s body is given over to the sea that has served them for so long. No, instead the great Siren King’s body had been left as a grim, mouldering soup at the bottom of the lagoon.

Shin had been so angry, so frustrated, he’d thought he might weld it against the seal. Fiery rage burning so brightly in his veins, it seemed impossible anything would be able to contain it. The seal had managed it though. He’d thrown himself against the invisible barrier trapping them in the lagoon until his body was covered in sores from where the magic had held him back, kept him trapped.

Eventually his brother had told him off, said that wasting his strength on something so futile was forbidden. Carla had already started to show signs of the sickness by then—dark mottled bruises marred his pale skin and his tail, a once brilliant deep red, had started to fade at the tip, like the life was being slowly bleached from it. Neither of them knew why Shin was the only one who had managed to escape it thus far and, although it went unspoken, neither of them thought he could possibly go much longer without the sickness coming for him too.

Those final days with his brother had been one of the worst parts of being trapped in the lagoon. Watching the person he’d admired above all others slowly corrode—a miserable, pitiful death. Many nights were spent thinking about just what he might do to the Mer King should he ever force his way free, how he’d delight in shredding the king’s intestines with his claws while the mer was still alive so that he could feel some fraction of the pain and misery that Shin’s race had felt.

It was in those final days that Carla had spoken of his idea on how they might be able to evade the seal. The thought of mating a human made Shin’s stomach churn and from his brother’s expression, he shared the sentiment, but it was the only chance they had of freedom and restoring the siren race. The problem lay in that no humans had come by the lagoon since they’d been confined there. Shin had lost track of how much time had passed since he was able to roam freely in the ocean but he knew it was enough that the Mer King must have done something to keep people away from the lagoon.

Shin and his brother might have been equipped with a perfect lure to bring humans to them, but a siren’s song was not meant to work across broad stretches of land, not unless they were calling for their mate. There was still a chance, however, that some human might wander close enough for the magic to catch, to reel them in like a fish on a line. And if the mate mark didn’t take, well, at least he and his brother could have one last good meal.

They’d sung together that night, and the next, and the one after. When the moon rose and their power reached its height they would sing until dawn. Until one day when his brother’s voice ran dry and they both knew it was too late.

The night Carla died, Shin had tried one last time. He’d sung and sung and sung until he was coughing up blood, casting the net of magic as wide as it would go. But nothing caught. As he’d sank down into the water, throat raw, he’d resigned himself to his fate and curled a tendril of his power around him to let him sink into a deep, long sleep. Perhaps it made him a coward, not facing the sickness head on, but his voice was spent and he couldn’t take so much as looking at the lagoon a moment longer. He hated being trapped. He hated feeling powerless. He hated that his once proud race had putrefied right before his eyes, their meagre remains still taunting him from the bottom of the pool.

And there he would have stayed if it hadn’t been for you—his mate. Well, maybe future mate was the more accurate way of putting it.

Shin frowned up at the few stars that specked the sky as night began to fully draw in. It probably wasn’t a good idea to try calling for you just yet, no matter how awful the wait was he had a much better chance of bringing you all the way here when the darkness, and in turn his magic, were at their strongest.

Letting out a low growl of frustration, Shin lay back, floating so he could watch more stars flicker into existence above him. He was getting very very sick of waiting—somehow the closer he got to his goal, the more he itched with impatience.

Truthfully, he couldn’t say exactly how long he’d waited for a chance to leave the lagoon. His sleep in it’s depths had been deep and dreamless and so it had been with some confusion that he’d woken to the scent of human blood in the water around him—your blood. For a moment, he’d thought himself dreaming, or perhaps even dead, until he’d registered the plants that had grown over him, cocooning him in the same spot he’d fallen asleep. Shin had made fast work of freeing himself, sharp fins easily slicing through stalks and tangled leaves with just a few swipes of his tail. He had hardly been able to believe it, there was a human in the lagoon!

He’d swum up to the surface, taking care not to breach it too suddenly in case you startled and fled before he could catch hold of you. A quick scan over the faintly rippling water was all he needed to spot you. There you were, sitting on a cluster of rocks.

Shin was made to live under the moonlight and in the darkest depths of the ocean—he could make out every inch of you in the dim light. He’d gotten lucky, you clearly weren’t a child, but you weren’t so old that the mate mark would be unlikely to take either. You looked straight at him then, turning your head and squinting into the darkness. He froze for a moment, still drinking you in, one hand was held to your chest, a dark stain running down it and into the water. Shin could faintly taste your blood in his mouth and in that moment he made his decision. You’d do.

Sinking back into the water, he’d powered towards you. Just because you were going to be his mate didn’t mean he couldn’t have some fun with you first. And it had been fun, hearing you scream when he’d grabbed you, dragging you down into the water while you struggled, terror clear on your face. It had been a long time since Shin had been able to toy with a human, and while you might not have been his first choice as a mate, that frightened expression of yours certainly did something for him. So was it really any wonder that he’d gotten carried away?

In all fairness, he genuinely hadn’t thought you’d be able to make it to the shore when he’d let you go. You’d been trembling so badly he’d doubted you’d last any time at all before your limbs gave up on you and you sank beneath the surface, struggling pathetically against your inevitable demise until he felt gracious enough to retrieve you. That was the plan, to terrify you just enough that you wouldn’t be able to think of going against him and then drag you back to the rocks you’d been sitting on earlier. There, he could keep an eye on you until the mate mark took, all the while thinking about what he could do with you to soothe his rage if it didn’t. If there was any other way he could use you to escape this damn prison.

And then you’d gone and exceeded his exceptions, not only making it to the edge of the lagoon, but even dragging yourself onto the beach. That was fine though, he was a siren after all, there was no way you’d be able to resist his song from that distance, seal be damned. He’d bring you back and you’d quake in horror as you regained your senses and realized there was no escape, not really.

You were not getting away from him.

Shin had felt it when his song caught you, and even if he hadn’t, it was obvious from the way your eyes glazed over and you mechanically got to your feet and started to walk towards him. His lips had curled into a wild grin as you’d taken those first few steps back into the water, so tantalizingly close to being back in his grasp.

Then, suddenly, he’d felt the connection snap, like a thread stretched too thin. You’d halted, barely a couple of steps from the point where the seal kept him contained and he could have reached you, awareness flooding back to your features as a hand reached for the bite mark on your neck.

The Mer King’s magic must have weakened his and allowed you to break free with little more than a jolt of pain. He’d cursed furiously as he’d watched you run off into the woods before breaking back out into song, pushing as much magic into it as he could. It hadn’t taken long to come to the conclusion that it was useless when you failed to reappear.

He’d sunk back beneath the surface of the lagoon and punched and clawed at anything he could reach until his anger finally subsided and he succumbed to the exhaustion that came with pushing his magic too far—a sure sign that if he couldn’t complete the bond with you and escape the lagoon soon then it would be the end of him. The end of the entire siren race. Shin drifted into unconsciousness with the taste of you lingering on his tongue and a single thread of thought that he couldn’t afford for this to fail.

The nights immediately following Shin’s encounter with you had been some of the worst of his life—worse even than those hours spent in desperate song with his brother. Each night he woke under the starlight sky, he would reach out with his power, trying to find a single thread of connection signalling the mate mark had taken. And every time, he would find nothing, the only magic brushing against his senses being that of the Mer King’s barrier, and Shin was left with only his rage. Rage at the Mer King for imprisoning him, rage at himself for being so powerless—and most of all—rage at you for slipping out of his clutches.

He hadn’t been able to understand it. Even as diminished as his power might be, something as primal as mating magic should still be more than potent enough to do its work. If you were another siren then perhaps you might be able to throw off its influence, but you were only a weak, fragile human, there’s no way you would be able to put up any real fight against it.

Were you dead then? Had he truly spent so long isolated that he’d forgotten just how much you could toy with prey before something gave? Or were you just a particularly feeble specimen?

You certainly hadn’t seemed quite that frail when you’d managed to give him the slip.

There was little life left in the lagoon that Shin could tear apart with his claws to take out his frustration, so he’d settled for thinking about what he’d do to you for causing him so much trouble. Mate mark or no, Shin was very sure that if he managed to get hold of you a second time, you wouldn’t be walking away from him.

He’d almost given up hope by the time he finally felt the magic take—a hot twisting sensation in his gut while he’d been drifting in the cool dark waters of the lagoon, magic flaring brightly as it began the process of binding your life to his.

Shin couldn’t help exclaiming into the otherwise still night air as the burn of the magic had started to fade, so close to finally achieving his freedom. But there was still an emptiness to the bond, something that needed to be filled before he could claw his way free. It ultimately didn’t matter though, as frustrating as it might be for the moment, you couldn’t escape him any longer— a half-bond was all he needed to reel you in and finish the job.

Which is exactly what he set about doing—a summoning song in the oldest of all siren tongues.

Come to me, come to me, come to me.

It had been something of a surprise when the cord of song bringing you to him had snapped. Another effect of the barrier surrounding the lagoon perhaps? Or maybe the mate mark had yet to fully settle into your skin, your humanity slowing the process. Regardless, he could still feel the whisper of the bond—a lifeline—and he clung to it with all his might. He had you now and one way or another, you’d inevitably be drawn to him.

Shin could tell that each new night his song brought you a little closer, magic making short work of any obstacles keeping you from him. Soon, very soon, you’d be brought right back into his arms and his goal would finally be realized. He hadn’t quite worked out how to get you to complete the bond yet. Compelling you wouldn’t work, you had to make the mark of your own free will for it to be binding.

It should irk him, the idea of allowing a human to mark him, even in such dire circumstances, but there was a primal part of him that hungered for it, for the feel of your teeth on his skin, claiming him as he’d claimed you.

It was revolting. He couldn’t stop thinking about it.

While his thoughts had been full of you ever since he’d awakened to the taste of your blood, it was different now, since the bond had taken. Before, they were accompanied by anger, a part of him wanting you to show up at the lagoon again just so he could teach you a lesson for making a fool of him. And although those thoughts were still there, they were twisted by a yearning that had come to infest every part of him. He longed to feel the softness of your skin as he traced his claws across your throat, down your chest. To get his mouth on you once more.

The fact you were currently roaming around freely, where any old human male could lay their hands on you, was driving him mad. Hell, for all he knew, the reason why you were taking so long to reach him was because you had some human lover sequestered away in your home, holding you back when the magic started to draw you to him. Shin hadn’t smelt anyone else on you when you’d been swimming in the lagoon, but if there really was someone who thought they had some sort of claim over you, then tearing them apart was the first thing he planned to do once he got a pair of human legs. He’d make you watch too, to show you what would happen if you ever had eyes for anyone else.

Shin wasn’t entirely unused to envy, but to feel it like this was new. Your bond was having more of an effect on him than he could ever have considered.

In abstract, he’d known it could—mating magic was primal, unstable, you could never quite count on just how strong the bond would be. He’d been arrogant, had thought that as a weak human you’d be the one to suffer the worst of it, left to pine over him while he was free to use you as he pleased. It was already clear that wouldn’t be the case and you weren’t even properly his mate yet. But it was too late to go back now, not when the only other alternative was dying a miserable death in this lagoon.

Shin wanted to be angry you’d done this to him. He should have spent the past several nights trying to work out how to be rid of you once he’d made it past the seal rather burning with rage at the thought of you with someone else—someone who probably didn’t even exist. It couldn’t be helped though, not when every instinct he possessed told him to latch onto you and never let go. You belonged to him and no one else. Always.

Oh he still intended to have you pay for making him wait so long, but his fantasies of cutting you open with his claws had been replaced by those of pinning you down and finding other ways to make you cry out.

There were a lot of things Shin planned to do to you once he was free.

The moon had risen high while he’d been lost in his thoughts, his power growing to its peak, still great and terrible, diminished as it was.

Shin wet his lips as he prepared to call for you once again, hoping that tonight was the night you were finally delivered to him. He opened his mouth and the first few notes of his song drifted out into the cold night air.

Elsewhere, you rose from your bed and began your mindless march towards the lagoon, lost in dreams of siren song.

#Diabolik Lovers #shin tsukinami #Shin Tsukinami x reader #my writing #one shot #Siren AU #Siren!Shin

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gallusrostromegalus · 1 year ago

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So here's my thought:

The use of Hell Butterflies to communicate messages on secret is *recent*, and first proposed by one Mayuri Kurotsuichi:

Mayuri, kicking open the door to a Captain's meeting like 40 minutes late: So I solved our fucking crow problem!

Yamamoto: Go back outside, then come back in, apologize for your tardiness and explain yourself.

Mayuri: Uuuuugh- fine, fine... *Leaves the room*

Soi Fon: Sir? I am not questioning your authority, only seeking to learn from your example-

Yamamoto: Kurotsuichi won't learn how to act civilized without practice. Considering where Urahara found him, I'm impressed with the progress he's made.

Zaraki: I'm just impressed that he's housebroken.

Mayuri, outside: I FUCKING HEARD THAT.

Yamamoto: You may try entering properly this time, Kurotsuichi.

Mayuri, coming back in: My apologies for my tardiness, captain-general. I've solved our fucking crow problem.

Zaraki: What fucking crow problem? The crows are great! They do out long-distance messages work.

Mayuri: And they do that work inconsistently at best! We have a pretty serious problem with them getting shot down and the messages stolen, if they don't just get lost or decide not to deliver, and they cost a fortune in rookery upkeep and union fees!

Mayuri: Which is why I've devised a solution- I've created a new class of messenger beast that is just as fast but much harder to capture or kill, doesn't have priorities that get in the way of delivery, and isn't unionized!

Zaraki: ...You filthy fucking picket-crosser.

Ukitake, about to faint from the rise in spiritual pressure: Let's just hear him out before we make any decisions, alright?

Mayuri: Thank you, good to know there's at least one of you who appreciates scientific advancement- behold!

Mayuri, triumphantly holding up his latest creation, which is writhing enthusiastically in his hand: -THE HELL CENTIPEDE!!

All: *recoiling in varying degrees of horror*

Mayuri: It's the perfect carrier of classified information! It's incredibly stealthy, silent, devoid of consciousness to betray its secrets or get distracted by shiny objects, and the enhancements to this specimen mean it can outrun anyone attempting to track it- not even captain Fon's shunpo can outpace it, and in the event it does get captured -!

Centipede: *flexes it's jaws on both ends, chittering, and bright yellow venom drops to the floor where it burns holes in the wood*

Mayuri: -The saboteur is in for a nasty surprise!

Tousen: That is awfully loud chittering for an insect.

Komamura: The centipede is about the size of Kurotsuichi-taicho's entire arm, which is much larger than normal. Or acceptable.

Tousen: ...It's times like these I'm glad I don't have functioning eyeballs.

Tousen: Relatedly - if that thing is dangerous on both ends and entirely too flexible in the middle, how are we supposed to attach the messages?

Mayuri: Ah, that is the best feature of all! Instead of a highly stealable paper message, the message is instead translated into a recording inside the void where the centipede's mind would theoretically be! All you have to do is tap the kido seal on it's enclosure, speak the message and it's recipient aloud, and release the creature! That rather nicely accommodates the vision and ah-

Mayuri, pointedly glancing at Zaraki: -literacy issues present in some guard members.

Zaraki: Hey! Did you forget that Kaname was a librarian? Ain't nothin' wrong with his lingo just 'cause he reads in braille!

Mayuri: I wasn't - oh, nevermind. My point is, this is a vastly more secure, easier to use and more cost-effective means of classified messaging. Do you want it or not?

Unohana: I have a question.

Mayuri, sighing: Yes, Unohana-sama?

Unohana: I understand that this animal runs very fast, and I remember from setting up the secure toxicology lab that centipdes do not fly. Is this also the case with this messenger beast?

Mayuri: Er. Well, yes. It doesn't fly. Yet!

Yamamoto: I am expressly forbidding you from making flying centipedes for any reason.

Mayuri: Oh come on-!

Unohana: Does this creature swim?

Mayuri: What? No, of course not-

Unohana: ...So what happens when it needs to carry its message to someone on the other side of a river?

Mayuri: Well it-

Mayuri: It...

Mayuri, closing his mouth and frowning down at the creature: ...

Mayuri: ...shit.

Aizen, attempting to calm things down: While I admire the effort and the fact that you're trying to fix problems before they become emergencies, I think perhaps this one needs to be tabled while you go back to the drawing boar-

Soi Fon: Wasps fly!

Aizen, weakly: please stop helping.

Soi Fon, visibly excited: Wasps fly AND they are venomous so you don't have to get rid of the anti-theft deterrents AND they already build their own nests so they're much easier to house!

Zaraki: Oh yeah, wasps are definitely way better at this. We should do that.

Aizen: I thought you were mad about the crows losing out on the messenger contract because you were friends?

Zaraki: Oh, yeah, but wasps are part of the same union so the crows still get the revenue-sharing so it's fine.

Aizen, glasses askew with bewilderment: The same what?

Komamura, nodding in agreement: Yes, all birds, flying insects, bats and a number of gliding animals are all joined an alliance well before the Gotei-13 was founded because all of the clans exploiting them as messengers during the warring states period. The alliance is sacred- I know you're not a fan of having to negotiate contracts Yamamoto-sama, but if we want to be using a flying animal for a messenger beast, we'll need to work with the alliance.

Zaraki: Yeah, ain't no picket-crossing here.

Zaraki: Hang on- I know why I know about the Flight Union, why do YOU know about that?

Komamura, pointing his helmet away from Zaraki: I do read, Zaraki-taicho.

Mayuri, putting the centipede back in his robe and sulking: Fine, if you're all agreed, I'll go see what I can do with wasps...

Ukitake: Uh, I have some. Um. Health concerns. About keeping a magically enhanced version of a highly venomous animal in my office.

Soi Fon: Don't be a baby.

Unohana: No, that is a fair point. While most of us could probably survive an accidental sting, any tool that's meant to be used by the entire guard needs to be reasonably safe for someone who is overtired, clumsy and distracted to use or my emergency room will turn into a sardine tin.

Soi Fon: Ah, right. Yeah, my lieutenant managed to almost decapitate himself with the photocopier last week. He wouldn't survive five minutes with a wasp nest.

Soi Fon: -given that the messages are already encrypted by being recordings that can only be accessed by the intended recipient, I think that the venom is not a necessary security measure. Even if I really wanna see that shithead from the Tsunyashiro clan swell up like a beach ball-

Ukitake: Yeah! Are there bugs that fly and don't bite?

Unohana: Butterflies.

Mayuri: ...ugh.

Unohana: Butterflies don't have mouths or stingers, are fairly simple to cultivate, and they fly.

Mayuri: Not exactly strong fliers though, are they?

Unohana: Species like monarchs and swallowtails already undertake exceptional migrations across the continent. I'm quite sure your modifications will get them up to speed, Kurotsuichi-taicho.

Aizen: I had no idea you were an entomologist as well, Unohana-sama!

Unohana: You don't get to be chairwoman of the Flower Festival without learning a few things about pollinators.

Ukitake: Yeah! Butterflies! They won't kill me or anyone else! I'll second that motion!

Zaraki: Third. They're union too.

Tousen: I like butterflies. You can train them to be quiet.

Yamamoto: Motion passes. Make us some Hell Butterflies.

Mayuri, sighing deeply: ...yes, Yamamoto-sama. I guess...

Unohana: Do cheer up. Even if they can't be venomous, the entire swallowtail family is quite poisonous to discourage predators.

Mayuri, suddenly enthusiastic agian: That's right!

Ukitake: oh no.

Mayuri: Oh shush, you'll be fine so long as you don't lick them- yes, that's got potential...

Mayuri: *continues muttering as he leaves*

Yamamoto: ... we'll work on how dismissal works next time.

Yamamoto: Also, attendance, where the hell is everyone else?

Do we see anyone using Hell Butterflies in TBTP because of not I have a really stupid headcanon about them.

#aeiwam #An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy #Bleach #bleach fanfiction #for those of you just tuning in: Zaraki kniws about the flight Union because he was raised eagle #and Tousen is no remotely okay right now.#long post #mayuri kurotsuchi #kenpachi zaraki #kaname tosen #sajin komamura #genryusai shigekuni yamamoto #retsu unohana #soi fon #jushiro ukitake #hell butterflies

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2-cute-4-school · 4 years ago

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𝘯𝘤𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴/𝘰 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦

requested by the national cutie pie @heartyyjeno

Mark Lee

he can be a bit oblivious sometimes bless his soul꒰๑˃͈꒵˂͈๑꒱୭

so he’s kinda clueless as why tf you’re so pouty

has he said anything stupid earlier? forgotten any important date?? or... even worse

ARE YOU ON YOUR PERIOD?? (ｼ;ﾟДﾟ)ｼ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵒⁿᵉ ʰᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉᶦʳ ᵗʰᵉᶦʳ ᵒʷⁿ ᵖᵉʳᶦᵒᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ’ᵗ ᶜʰᵃⁿᵍᵉ ᵐʸ ᵐᶦⁿᵈ ˢᵒʳʳʸ

he’s too nervous to even prod at you rn

especially after a trainee who just happens to be wearing his hoodie passes by and you-

did you just growl?!?? ( ⚆ _ ⚆ )

but you’re his baby and you’re just SO deflated and he HATES seeing you anything but happy and lively so he just can’t stand by and watch you so upset cuz his lil heart hurts too (๑◕︵◕๑)

“babe, are you uh alright?”

“yeah, just a little bit cold” *trying to subtly hint him*

“oh! that’s not good, you should have dressed warmer, should i go ask manager-hyung to turn up the heating in the practice room??”

‘maybe i should just set your ass on fire to warm up’ (►˛◄’!)

“or do you maybe want my hoodie?? it should be enough so you won’t be cold anymore, where did i... ohhhhh”

*light bulb turning on above his head* (〇o〇；)

“it’s fine mark, it’s not like you love me anyway it’s fine i should have seen this coming” *loud fake sobbing in your hands* *mark panic*

“no no baby come on-”

“let’s just get the divorce papers, mark lee!!!!”

“but we’re not married-” *sobbing intensifies* “i’m sorry, I’M SORRY!!! i didn’t mean to!! here, just a second!!” (´⊙ω⊙`)！

this specimen just took off his shirt and draped it over you in the middle of the practice room

“mark, wtf are you doing?!?? i was only kidding!!”

“how was i supposed to know, what if you were seriously upset-”

“hyung, can you help-” *chenle slams door closed* *dolphin screams* “you’re paying for my eyeball removal surgery, you nasties!!”

“chenle NO”

Huang Renjun

my man here catches on pretty quickly what your pout is about

you didn’t make it exactly hard to notice either (；¬д¬)

“y/n, want some ice cream?”

“no, i’m cold, you can shove it up yo ass and share with dear [redacted]”

jesus i wonder why your s/o is mad renjun

he’s not sure how to approach the situation at first, worried that he might get a tube of ice shoved somewhere he wouldn’t want it to ゞ◎Д◎ヾ

he decides to just be himself read as blunt

“baby come oooon, i can ask them to give it back”

“no, then i’ll seem like a possessive bitch” (Θ︹Θ)ს

“don’t call yourself that!! but then should i just run back to the dorms and get another hoodie?”

“no, i missed you this week, i don’t want you to leave”

“then you can just come with me?” (≖^≖๑ )ﾌ

“but i’m too lazy to get up” same reader same

renjun : ఠ ͟ಠ then wth DO YOU WANT ?!!!?!!

your soul renjun

he’s a bit lost and you’re kinda under the weather too and he HATES it because you’re his kitten and he CAN’T and WON’T allow you to feel anyhting but like absolute royalty with him ೕ(⁍̴̀◊⁍̴́ฅ)

so he just drapes himself over your back, wrapping his arms tightly around you, caging you in a warm embrace and nuzzling his cheek into yours

“who needs a hoodie when they’ve got a junnie??!?!” (˃̵ᴗ˂̵ ๑)

how could anyone stay mad when a cutie like renjun just curls himself around you and pulls you flush against himself, wrapping his limbs around you and peppering kisses everywhere in reach

you’re basically purring in content at this how could you not 」(￣▽￣」)

depending on how tired the both of you are, you might qualify for a good ol’ nap cuddled up against renjun

but don’t let this fool you

you AIN’T gona catch him making the same mistake again

he’s asking you first about absolutely anything

“no renjun, i don’t need the last of your toilet paper, why do you even- you know what, don’t answer that, just go take a shit in peace” Σ(-᷅_-᷄๑)

Lee Jeno

we all know jeno is too much of a sweetheart to say ‘no’ (๑′ᴗ‵๑)

he might be freezing himself and he’d still give his hoodie away to the first person who asks learn how to say NO kids

so now you’re both freezing and on top of everything you’re upset too

that’s a DOUBLE KILL for sweet babie jeno (๑◕︵◕๑)

“babe i’m sorry how was i supposed to know you don’t like them??”

“it’s not even that, jeno, you’re literally shivering!! why would you give it if you’re cold too?”

and that’s when jeno’s bf sathelit sprung into action

“wait... ‘too’?? are you cold, my baby??!??!?” (ʘᗩʘ’)

“no, wait, i mean yes, but that’s not-”

“i’ll be back in a second” he isn’t even kidding

he comes back with a blanket AND heating pads (that he doesn’t miss a second to clutch to your cheeks and then coo at your fish face)

“where did you get these from?” *suspicious*

he tells you he borrowed stole them from hyuck by politely asking for them threatening with a flex of his arm while eye smiling the entire time hyuck stood no chance ( ⚆ ᴗ ⚆ ) *nervous chuckle*

but jeno allows you no debating time before he wraps you in the blanket like a lil cutie patootie WARM burrito and leaves a *smooch* to your forehead ( ˘ ³˘)♥

you can spend an eternity arguing with him that you should take turns since he’s cold too, he isn’t taking ANY OF IT

his bubs isn’t allowed to be cold and he wants you to forget about who he lent his hoodie to too

the only way you can get him to relent is refusing to stay cocooned in it

“y/n, wear it or you’ll catch a cold!!” ( •̀ω•́ )σ

“sorry to burst your bubble, but you can and will catch a cold too!!”

that’s how you found yourself sandwiched between jeno’s arms, suffocating from both his bodt warmth and the blanket enveloping THE BOTH of you

best sauna would 110% recommend ୧( ⁼̴̶̤̀ω⁼̴̶̤́ )૭

Lee Donghyuck

my man here knows EXACTLY what he’s doing once *that person* asks him for his hoodie with a flirty smile

he lends it over with that shit eating grin but not without watching from the corner of his eye as you deflated like a loney baloney ( ◞᷄દ◟᷅ )

pretends to not notice your pout and lack of answers to his remarks

“y/n, wanna order chinese tonight?”

sweet, but not on my watch asshole *silence* (˵¯͒⌢͗¯͒˵)

“i’ll take that as a yes, i’ve been craving some seaweed soup”

*eye twitch*

‘fine u lil booger two can play at this game’ (•̀o•́)ง

you leave the room and return... wrapped up in MARK’S sweater and plop down back next to hyuck proudly (ฅ⁍̴̀◊⁍̴́)

he tenses up and turns to you

“y/n” ooooh damn you’re in deep shit

*you bat your eyelashes innocently* “yes my dear?”

“you stink, can you move further away?”

you... did not... JUST HEAR THAT??!?!!? (ﾉꐦ ⊙曲ఠ)ﾉ彡┻━┻

but you get up and walk with your tail between your legs to the other side of the room and curl up in a ball of failure

you both do your own things insilence until-

*sniffle* *hiccup* *SNIFFLE*

“y/n?” *silence*”baby??” *hiccup*

oh no oh no NO NO, hyuck’s baby ain’t crying on his watch (╯’□’)╯

he DASHES to your side and envelops you in his arms while cooing apologies and sweet nothings in your ear

“come on baby, you know i didn’t mean it, i just want your attention and your attention only and i only meant that mark’s hoodie stinks, never you, you’re my baby, you can’t-” ヾ( •́д•̀ ;)ﾉ

and then your shoulders start shaking and hyuck starts to actually worry until your sobs turn into... giggles?? hold up, WHAT??

he turns you around just to see you in a fit of giggles, the only tears present are the ones building up in your eyes from laughter

“oh you think you’re smart, don’t you??” (⁎⁍̴̀﹃ ⁍̴́⁎)♡

ATTACC OF TICKLES FOR YOU

Na Jaemin

another sweetheart tbh who wouldnt be able to refuse out of courtesy

but he just KNOWS he fcked up the moment you turn away when he leans in to kiss you (︶︹︺) ╯ ( ് દ ് )

but he ain’t giving up so easily

no matter how upset you are, depriving him of his dose of kisses? federal crime!!!! CRUELTY!!!!!!! ╰[ ಠ Ĺ̯ಠ]╯

so he keeps on pushing his affections on you

a clutching back hug, a rushed kiss wherever he is able to land it considering your struggle to avoid him, a nuzzle against your cheek, a pinch to your cheeks, a failed attempt to lockyour hands together

my man here tries not to show disappointment whenever you succesfully escape his ♡ 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 ♡

jaemin, grumbling: “you and jisungie, a couple of hooligans, i’ll leave you on the welcome mat tonight for this” (҂⌣̀_⌣́) he won’t he loves you too much, he can’t fall asleep if he’s not 110% sure you’re well fed and happy

but he still babies you to no end

“come on my baby, what should i do so you forgive me hm?”( *¯ ³¯*)♡

you, an entire baby: *huff* “so now you care huh? go ask or no, go TAKE CARE of [redacted]”

jaemin’s last braincell performing swan lake on thin ice male version 2020 be like ₍₍ ◝( ･’ω’･ )◟ ⁾⁾

so he sighs and leaves the room

so NOW you’re worrying that mayyyybe you pushed him a bit too far

but before you even get the chance to walk down the hallway in your mighty search for your boyfriend, everything suddenly goes black

no you didn’t pass out or did you

jaemin just creeped up on you and ENGULFED you in a blanket hug for which he DEFINITELY didn’t run a marathon to buy༼つ ் ▽ ் ༽つ

when you finally manage to worm your head out of the fluffy cocoon he engulfed you in, your words were still muffled

“nana?? how did you even-???”

he just hugs you tighter and cuts off your questions

“shhh, all that matters is that you are ABSOLUTELY ADORABLE and i am maybe perhaps forgiven??” ◕ ‿ ◕

how could you ever refuse this precious soul

Zhong Chenle

so i can see one(1) scenario in which he would lend his hoodie to someone he SPECIFICALLY knows you don’t fancy

if you had a let’s say disagreement before and we all know he can be PETTY big time sooo basically he’d do it just to spite you ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

and the lil shiz looks SO PROUD of himself

but you’re not letting the brat win we ain’t no losers _へ__(‾◡◝ )>

so you just creep up behind him and stick your glacier hands up his shirt and rest them on his warm back

when i’m telling you he broke the record for the highest jump and most likely shattered any windows in the vicinity ༻(〃ຶ⌂〃ຶ)

“y/n!!!! keep your ice cubes to yourself!!”

“but i’m cold”

“your cold, your problem”

“watch me say the same thing when jaemin’s chasing you around with a wooden ruler” （；¬＿¬)

things settle down after that

or so he thought!!!!! (งಠل͜ಠ)ง never let your guard down lele sigh

another sneak attack to make sure chenle gets a SOUR taste of absolutely pure pettiness so he gets sick of it himself lol

this time a bitch ain’t joking

you shove your entire head under his shirt and then slither yourself so the top of your head pops out of chenle’s shirt collar let’s hope chenle made the wise choice of wearing a loose shirt so you both won’t suffocate

so you just blink up at him like (◕ᴥ◕)

and chenle is shrieking the entire time sigh

and while you’re too cute for him, its not exactly comfortable for either of you so he pats your head and begs asks you to get out of his shirt(?)

“am i getting your hoodie then?”

“i can’t just barge in and ask for it back”

“alright them i’m suffocating you FUN” (╯✧∇✧)╯

“i’m buying you an entire store of hoodies, JUST GET.OUT!!!”(;≧皿≦）

you have to restrain him for actually going on a shopping spree cuz he LOVES spoiling you but he pays in cuddles while you’re snuggling in your favourite hoodie of his

Park Jisung

confused babie /(@ﾟﾍﾟ@) a mood

he probably lent his hoodie cause he was too shy to refuse and didn’t even know you don’t like the person he gave it to

and then he’s clueless when you’re pouty ｢(ﾟ<ﾟ)ﾞ??

jisung: “do you want some water??”

you: *grumbling visibly upset* ( ｰ̀εｰ́ )

jisung, at a safe distance away from you, scratching his head, rethinking life choices: “...okay, maybe not. how about choco milk?”

he keeps an eye on you but other than that he’s LOST lol

that’s when the ✨𝓱𝔂𝓾𝓷𝓰𝓼✨ kick in

emergency contact momma jaemin is the first person jisung calls once he escaped to the ‘bathroom’

“jisung, you know i love you, BUT ARE YOU DUMB?? HOW COULD YOU- blahblahblah” my man is listening to an entire rant about how to treat your partner well 101 (۶* ‘ꆚ’)۶”

now that he knows the theory, he needs the practice

but you might already worry that he fell in the toilet with how long he’s been gone for god forbid you fall into that dark void

so he calls chenle

“chenle, i’m treating you to hotpot if you bring me a blanket or hoodie in less than 5 minutes”

“add in some steak and it’s a deal” ( ✧≖ ͜ʖ≖)

“i’m so selling your soul for a piece of gum, FINE!! just be quick!!”

THIS BOI RIGHT HERE!! A TREASURE!!!! he would step on his honour just to make sure his bubs is hapyy ˭̡̞(◞⁎˃ᆺ˂)◞*✰

so after he excuses himself again to retrieve the blanket from chenle

he BURRITO WRAPS you in it and then sits down next to your confused but undeniably happy form and pats your head nervously while he rambles you’re still his most sought after for of comfort no matter what

“i’m sorry for being a bad boyfriend, i should have realized you’d be cold too and that i should always put you first and i-”

you cut him off with a chaste kiss to his cheek which definetely doesn’t leave him speechless and tomato red in the cheeks (๑♡⌓♡๑)

“it’s okay, i was just being dramatic, you should always put yourself first tho, okay baby??”

baby is malfunctioning but he still nods mindlessly and kisses your cheek back ( ᵅั ᴈ ᵅั;)

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letarasstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Girl meets World

(A/N): This was requested by an anon and is based on a show named 'Boy meets world', tho I never watched it so I went solely with the summary from said anon. I hope you still like it :)

Summary: Spencer's daughter is not ready for her first kiss. But are her classmates fine with that?

Warnings: Mean kids, angst but fluff at the end

Wordcount: 1.6k

✨Masterlist✨ ___________________________

Being on the not so popular side in school is not particularly hard, but it doesn’t exactly make things easier for (Y/N). That’s why Spencer was happy to hear from her invitation to a classmate’s birthday party.

“You call me and I’ll get you. I don’t mind if it’s in ten minutes or in two hours. Whenever you feel uncomfortable or you are done with peopling, it’s fine wanting to leave. Ok?” Her father tells her, sitting with her in the car in front of the birthday girl’s house. “Understood. Thank you, Dad. I see you no later than ten. Love you!”

Off she goes. Spencer watches (Y/N) going up the path to the front door, a bright colored bag with a gift in her hand. He considers driving up to Penelope’s apartment, which is only five minutes away, and cries with her over his daughter growing up with a tub of ice cream in both their hands. A second later the father puts his plan into motion.

Meanwhile (Y/N) is inside with a bunch of people from different classes. All those kids already make her nervous. But she is determined to make it through the night. After all, the girl doesn’t want to be seen as a baby that gets overwhelmed by a room full of human beings.

At first it isn’t that bad. (Y/N) finds a few classmates she has a class or two with and they converse. Until someone screams “Let’s play Spin-The-Bottle”. Now the eleven year old kind of feels like she is on a movie or a show. What’s next, she has to kiss the boy she has a crush on since the beginning of the school year?

Still all of the children gather around in a circle and a bottle is placed in the middle. “The rules are simple”, a kid explains, “The bottle chooses two people. They get five minutes in that closet over there.” Right, just like she predicted. (Y/N) is hesitant. They are too young to do something like that. Once again she doesn’t want to be the party pooper, so she sits down between two classmates.

Every time the bottle spins a dread weighs down in her stomach. (Y/N) is only eleven years old. Is she even ready to have her first kiss in a closet? Shouldn’t it be out of love, willently without anybody forcing two random people to such an act?

Seems like the others think these rules are fair and square. Everybody is participating with the utmost joy. Maybe it’s just her, who grew up with romantic novels written by people who not even her Grandmother witnessed alive being read to her for bed night.

Deep into calculating the probability of the bottle pointing to her, it needs a few shouts and a nudge to get (Y/N) out of her head. “Looks like it’s your turn to go into the closet”, her neighbor says to her, gesturing to the bottle, which in fact points towards her. The girl swears that the color of her cheeks is even darker than a tomato.

Shyly she gets up to the wardrobe. The remaining girls nod encouragingly while the next person is chosen by the bottle. Luckily it’s not the boy she has a crush on, this would be like in a fanfiction, too much like a cliché.

Just a few seconds later she finds herself in the closet. Is it appropriate to make a joke about coming out of the closet?

“Well, here we are”, the other boy says. (Y/N) thinks his name is Tyler. “Yeah, I guess.” She shuffles her foot and scratches her neck. “So, shouldn’t we kiss or something?”

Geez, that boy is out for action. “Uhm, what about if we do not? I’m not ready for that and no offence but I want my first kiss with somebody special and you are just a boy from my grade and there are no feelings between us and I need that special moment, because I’m a hopeless romantic.” The girl says all of this in one breath, making her speech pace compete with her father’s.

But Tyler smiles. “It’s okay. I get it, really. I won’t tell anyone. We can just sit here and talk until they knock. How does that sound?” (Y/N) smiles and nods. They sit down on some boxes and just laugh quietly about anything and everything they tell each other.

As soon as they have to come out of the closet, the other kids bombard them with questions. Tyler shuts all of them with one answer up. “A lady and gentleman are quiet and enjoy themselves.”

The rest of the evening goes relatively uneventful. There is a nice buffet and after that the kids watch a couple of movies until the first parents show up to pick up their children. Spencer is relieved to see his daughter so energetic and happy after the party.

“And then we played spin the bottle like in a teen movie. Dinner was also really nice and I think I made one or two more friends. Isn’t it amazing, Dad?” He answers her enthusiastically that he is in fact very happy for her. And Spencer is. But it kind of also implies that she grows up, a fact he doesn’t like.

The party was on a Saturday night and now it’s Monday, the first day after it. (Y/N) is ecstatic to go. In her mind her classmates finally accepted her for who she is. But as soon as she enters the school yard the kids from her grade look weirdly at her.

Immediately the girl’s mind goes into panic. Has she something on her face? Is it the way she dresses? Or is it some- The kiss. Or technically the not kiss.

“Hey Reid, I heard you are unkissed. What about I show you in the janitor’s room? Do you also want rose petals and candles laying around?” Someone starts to taunt her. The bystanding classmates begin to laugh.

(Y/N) has to listen to similar comments for the rest of the school day. A few boys from her science class make kissing noises whenever the teacher isn’t near them. Tyler once catches her eyes, mouthing an apology. But it’s not relevant to her at this point. The only thing that counts right now is getting through the last class without breaking down in front of the others. She can’t show them any more weakness.

When his daughter comes home, Spencer is already there. Hotch gave them an early off, since the last few cases were draining for all of them.

Instead of greeting him with a smile and the definition of happiness she enters the apartment with the biggest frown the father has ever seen on her face. “Hey Dad”, (Y/N) flatly says before disappearing into her room.

Confused, he assumes that she just has to do a load of homework, so he lets the girl be for the next couple hours. But as the clock is pushing near dinner time, he begins to worry.

“Sweetheart, I thought about cooking pasta for tonight. Do you wanna help me try Uncle Dave’s new recipe?” He asks at her closed door, respecting her privacy. There is no answer, just a sniffle from the other side. This alarms Spencer. “Sweetheart, may I come in?”

A few seconds pass until a faint “Yes” makes its way to his ears. Inside (Y/N) sits on her bed, her eyes are red from crying. “Oh Sweetheart, don’t be upset. Whatever it is, we can fix it. Tell me, what’s wrong?” The young doctor tries to console her. It’s always more difficult to calm your own family down than any stranger he meets on a case.

“I-it’s stupid. I don’t know why I’m upset over this.” (Y/N) frantically wipes the leftover tears away. “Hey, don’t say that. Your feelings are valid. You can be upset about anything you want, ok? If you don’t want to tell me about it, it’s fine. But I promise you that I’ll value whatever you say.”

The girl nods, finding her composure. “I- At the party we played Spin-The-Bottle and whoever was chosen had to go into the closet with the second one and kiss. I-I was in there with a boy named Tyler, b-but I told him I wasn’t ready. H-he was really sweet about it and respected my reasons. Dad, I’m not old enough and it wouldn’t be anything like I imagined my first kiss would be. But now the whole school or what feels like the whole school makes fun of me a-and I was so embarrassed.”

Spencer can feel her pain. Kids can be worse than professional torturers, he witnessed both first hand. “Oh Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I’ll think of something about it. How do you feel about coming with me into the office? The others are missing you, especially Emily. She has a ton of pictures of Sergio she wants to show you. And for tonight we get your favorite take out and watch a movie of your choice, ok?”

(Y/N) smiles at the thought of the pictures she is going to see. “Yes! Can we get pizza and watch Lion King?” Even though it will be the fifth time they watch this movie this month, Spencer is happy to do anything his daughter wants. She has him wrapped around her finger.

So not long after this heartfelt conversation they sit on the sofa in the living room, crying their eyeballs out after Mufasa died. He deserved better.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962

Spencer Reid x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x child!reader #x reader #reader insert #x child!reader #x daughter!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfiction

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j2zara · 8 months ago

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Also like I wanna clarify (& apologize? Yeah) that like for the record I know I’m not entitled to anyone’s eyeballs or their time or responses or literally any of it I’m so fortunate every day and some things are not for everyone and if you are someone who has read things I’ve put out as much as it’s hard to fight the thing in ur brain that says wooo number go up the trepidation to like publicly air something very vulnerable and what you like or how you feel is very real and i think that’s important to honor and respect on my part like! Number go up does not matter. I love you guys. I have to deal with my own insecurity about putting things out in the world for people to see bc before these past few months I basically didn’t do it in four years and every time i feel sick to my stomach but like you guys are awesome. Ultimately number go up is fleeting but the shit you guys have written to me replied to me messaged me etc etc abt my writing but also just in the day to day. That’s once in a lifetime stuff.

The need for approval or to like. earn my place here is like. Always in a weird tug of war with the knowledge of how cool and funny and sweet you guys are. Spider noir voice. I uh. Love you. All

Sometimes you write straight up porn and it’s kinda insular and weird and self involved and you just gotta grit your teeth and tell yourself you’re doing it for the love of the game

#jan.txt

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thedarkenedkeeper · 3 years ago

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Glitched: Part 20 - The Deep Dark Depths

Author’s Note: MERRY GLITCHMAS EVERYONE! I HAVE RETURNED WITH THE GIFT OF “GLITCHED” FOR YOU ALL!! :D

My god, it’s been 2 YEARS since I last posted a chapter and I deeply apologize for the LONG hiatus. I’ve had this chapter nearly done for that long but never finished it until recently. I didn’t - and don’t - have writer’s block, it’s just difficult to put my exact thoughts and vision down into words and make it come out sounding as good as I’m picturing in my head, you know? That and life just sometimes gets in the way of writing. So I haven’t given up on the fic, don’t worry! If I was done with it, I’d let you guys know, believe me.

I have no idea who still cares about this fic and if anyone will be interested in reading more of it, but you know, quite frankly I don’t care. Although it’s a challenge to write, I do thoroughly enjoy writing Glitched and will continue to do so until I finish it (or get tired of it, thought I HIGHLY doubt that’ll happen).

Now this chapter actually came out really long - longest chapter to date. It felt too long to be one chapter SO I split it into two separate parts. So I’ve chosen to give you guys Part 20 for your Christmas gift today, and then Part 21 I will hopefully be uploading on New Year’s Day (NOT Eve - gonna start the New Year off with Glitched). You guys have been waiting a long time; seems only right to give you guys two chapters a week apart.

Slight Warning: Of course I couldn’t come back without giving you guys a chapter involving a warning. Now granted, this isn’t a really gory chapter, this isn’t all blood and guts and torture so don’t worry about that. However, there is SOME bloodshed and some gross descriptions of a rotting corpse as well as an eyeball. Aside from that, the atmosphere of the chapter is filled with dread, suspense, and eerie tension.

This chapter, as well as the next, are very important to the story and are peaking the climax. They answer some questions but also raise more questions.

Read this while listening to this playlist.

Hope you guys enjoy it! It’s good to be back :)

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From the moment Jackieboy Man had decided to plunge himself into the open vastness of the void, shadows had curled around him and had enticed him into going further with each step he took. A deep-seated growth of harrowing proportions was enlarging at an exponential rate in the pit of his stomach the deeper he went. An unrelenting fear for the other egos. He hadn’t received any sort of response from any of them when he had called out to them and that never happened. When Jack had shown up fatally injured and bleeding out on the ground, everyone had raced to his side. When Chase had given an attempt at suicide, the firing of his gun had alarmed everyone so much that not a single ego hesitated to rush out to see what had happened. When Jackie had called out to them…there was nothing. All the hero received was a deafening silence just the same as the one he was currently engulfed in.

He marched onward and didn’t dare look back, keeping his eyes forward as he journeyed into the unknown. His thoughts were running astray, all focused on one individual: his creator. Jackie didn’t even know where to begin on the Irishman’s behavior back there before he had gone off to check on the doctor. Jack had looked and sounded like Jack, but the choice of words – the things he had said – didn’t seem at all right. To add as more evidence that something was off with the YouTuber, his eyes, his smile of reassurance – they had been completely void of any warmth and sincerity. His words may have slipped out sounding like he cared and meant what he said, but Jackie wasn’t blind, nor was he an oblivious fool. Those sea-blue eyes had been unnaturally dark, empty, cold. Orbs of otherworldly properties glazed over with false empathy. It had felt like he had been staring at a mask – someone else wearing not just a mask of his creator’s face but an entire bodysuit.

His pace was gradually faltering, a biting shudder choosing then to straighten out his posture. He didn’t know if Jack was Jack or not, that was the truth. Whether the Irishman was himself or someone impersonating him, the fact remained that he wasn’t alright, he was off. Had he been affected by something or had he been replaced? And if he had been replaced, then by what? Nothing could get in and out of the void, nothing except for Jack himself – Jackie knew this. So if something had managed to get itself inside the void somehow, someway, how did it get by without Jack noticing? How was that possible?

Jackieboy Man didn’t know for a fact that the man he had spoken with wasn’t Jack – he couldn’t prove it, not just yet, anyway. He did, however, know this: Something was being kept hidden from the superhero and he had a feeling he was going to find it somewhere, here, out in the open void.

A brisk chill swept past him, finding its way into his suit and tugging at the hairs at the back of his neck. The air seemed to be growing colder the further he went. He didn’t know if that was a good sign or not. The masked hero slowed himself to a halt, taking the time to look at his surroundings, although there was really nothing to see. His torso twisted, his legs following the motion, turning around to get an idea of how far out into the void he’d gone. His vision was completely obscured by the dark, not a single thing in sight. Shimmering neon trees were no longer able to be seen, nor were the colorful circling portals to the respective homes of his brethren. That couldn’t be right; he hadn’t gone that far – at least, that’s what it felt like to him. The luminescent branches of those trees should’ve been visible from where he was. Even if he had gone quite a ways out, there should’ve been light in the distance.

There was no light, not a speck of it. This didn’t shock the ego as much as it had before. He knew deep in his gut something was wrong with the void, and this was only proving it. Like before, he had once again found himself swallowed whole by the discomforting shadows of the void. The only difference this time? He hadn’t heard or seen any –

A sweet childish giggle came bubbling out from somewhere off in the cold vastness behind him. It carried an eerily similar charm like Ilsa’s voice.

Jackieboy Man’s body went rigid, spine straightening and shoulders broadening with the motion. A shuddering breath slid past his parted lips, visible to the eye due to the drop in temperature. Eyes were fixed forward, unblinking, flashes of a little girl’s undead corpse flickering before him.

It’s happening again. No sight of the crossroads…The feeling of being watched, He swallowed thickly, …Her giggle…

His eyes darted to the left, he licked his lips, and hesitantly, he turned around – head moving first, then his body. Heart skipping a painful beat, he saw what he had feared to see yet again in the distance up ahead. It may have been darker than dark but he could see her, he could make out the small pale body of the good doctor’s youngest daughter, Ilsa. From where he stood, he could make out her messy hair, blotchy discolored skin, and the maroon-red stains in her dress. Her smile was abnormally wide, stretched bloody from ear to ear due to the corners of her mouth having been cut open. Jackie released another uneven breath at seeing her stand there, hands behind her back and looking as innocent as ever – well, as much as she could with her body decomposing anyway.

“Ilsa…” Her name came out rather hushed and not like a question. He wasn’t questioning it this time; he had hoped she would show up again. He had known he had in fact seen Ilsa before and now here she was yet again, come to see him in this uncharted area of the void.

The four-year-old girl didn’t move, merely bounced on the balls of her feet and giggled happily at the hero’s reaction to her being there. “Hiii!” It was dragged out in that cute way young kids would normally do when shy and meeting someone new.

Jackie felt the corner of his lips twitch with the urge to smile at hearing her cheery voice. “Hi.” He didn’t smile though – how could he when he was seeing her with a mutilated face, undead? He sighed softly and deeply, an attempt to steady his nerves, before he licked his lips and asked, “What are – ”

“You came back!” Ilsa chirped. “You weren’t supposed to leave, silly.” She tittered, rocking back and forth where she stood staring at the man in red. “We were going to pway!” Her hands clapped together out of excitement.

“No.” Jackie almost immediately shook his head at her words. “No, Ilsa, we’re not going to play. I’m not here to play. I don’t have time – I need to – ”

Wait. He cut himself short, eyes falling to the dark watery floor. Why are you talking to her? She’s not real, she can’t be. His brow furrowed with puzzlement at this, not entirely convinced. You know no one other than you and the others can come out here in the open, you KNOW that. Jack himself had explained this all to you in explicit detail.

That was true – Jack had in fact explained to each of them how the void worked and how anyone and everyone in their respective worlds could not interact with those of another world. They didn’t know they weren’t real, they didn’t know they were all more or less simulations made for the egos and to keep them content. Some people shared the same face; the egos weren’t the only ones. While the egos were clones of Jack, certain individuals were clones of people in Jack’s own life. It made sense why, given how the void was shaped by his thoughts and feelings. It was no different than having dreams of people you swore you didn’t recognize, only to read about how those people were probably random strangers your brain decided to remember seeing from earlier that week.

Dr. Schneeplestein and Chase Brody’s wives, for example, both wore the exact same face as Jack’s in real life girlfriend, Signe. Sure, just like the egos, they had different hairstyles and personalities, but the fact remained they bore the resemblance of someone important in Jack’s life. If they were able to wander out and run into each other, who would be able to explain to them how and why they looked the same without causing them to freak out? Chaos would break out and it would be a hell of a hassle to reset everything, thus why Jack created borders that none of them, except for the egos, could pass through.

And yet, no more than thirty feet away, decaying on the spot, stood one of the doctor’s daughters.

Look at her. He lifted his gaze from the floor back to the living corpse that was Ilsa Schneeplestein. How could she be out here? Or more importantly, how could she look like that and be alive?

Ilsa lowered her hands, a soft chuckle leaving her lips. She blinked, tilting her head a bit out of confusion, not understanding why the hero had suddenly stopped talking. “Mr. Jackieboy?”

If something bad had happened to her or anyone else, you would’ve been able to sense it. His face was scrunched up with perplexity as his thoughts tried to rationalize everything. She’s not dead, she’s safe at home with her family...So how is it you’re seeing her out here, in the open, mouth split apart and body rotting away?

He noticed Ilsa drop her hands at her sides, her smile slipping. “What’s wrong?” She asked, her gentle voice laced over with what sounded like concern.

Jackieboy Man stared at her for a prolonged minute, torn between believing what his eyes were seeing versus what his conscience was insistent upon. The low buzzing of flies could be heard coming from where Ilsa was as the air grew heavy and fetid with the stench of putrefaction. The hero’s stomach rolled and he retched, instantly doubling over and slapping a hand over his mouth to hold in the sick threatening to escape. He shut his eyes for a brief second, swallowing down the bile rising in his throat and attempting to not pay any attention to the rancid smell accumulating around him.

“Don’t you want to pway with me?”

An eye pried open to take a look at the bloodied girl. There was a hint of hurt in her voice, proven further by how she was no longer smiling bright. She instead was pouting, some sort of fluid beginning to leak out of her mouth. Repulsion contorted the ego’s face, both eyes locked onto her now as he came to agreement with what his conscience was telling him. He shook his head slowly, muttering, “You’re not real.”

Ilsa appeared taken aback by that, her brows furrowing together and pout becoming more prominent. “What?” There was a crack in her voice, which admittedly caused the hero’s heart to clench tight. “Why – Why would you say that?” She gave a light giggle and extended her arms to either side. “I’m wight here!”

The green-haired man shook his head once more before lowering it, not wanting to look at the apparition of his friend’s daughter anymore. She’s not real…She’s not real. “No you’re not.” He said firmly. “You’re not real.” He was shaking his head again, murmuring, “She’s not real.”

“W-Why do you keep saying that?” Another audible crack in her voice, accompanied with a faint sniffling.

Jackie winced at the realization that she was starting to cry – he was making a little girl cry. No, no, he was not making a little girl cry. This wasn’t a little girl, this was something else entirely. This thing wasn’t real, it didn’t have real emotions, he knew that. He shut his eyes, attempting to focus on something, anything, other than the gradually wavering sobs emanating from Schneeplestein’s daughter.

“She’s not real. She’s not real. You know she’s not real.” He repeated under his breath, hoping like hell she would eventually go away if he ignored her presence being there.

“Mr. J-Jackieboy?” Ilsa whined, a louder gross sniff of her nose echoing through the dark.

The ego’s eyes screwed tightly shut at hearing this, gasping softly at being able to feel her pain. It was proving to be a difficult challenge for Jackieboy Man to block out the cries of the undead child. He may have convinced himself that the girl before him wasn’t really Ilsa Schneeplestein, but the superhero in him – the part that believed he was solely responsible for everyone in the void, the part that was hell-bent on making sure that everyone was safe – wasn’t having it. Every fiber in his being was screaming to run to the girl, scoop her up in his strong arms, and reassure her everything would be okay.

“She’s not real…She’s not real.”

“Stop!” She cried out pleadingly. “Stop saying that!”

“She’s not real.” He gritted between his teeth, just barely hanging on. Hearing a four-year-old reduced to tears and begging for him to stop insisting she wasn’t real was relentlessly torturing his heart and making him question his morals.

“W-What did I do wrong?” She hiccupped over her sobs, sniffling noisily. “Why – Why don’t you w-want to pway with me?”

“Stop it.” The words were wrenched from him as a weak, strained whimper. It was his turn to be the one to implore her for mercy. “Just stop.” Jackie shook his head. “You’re not real.” It came out gruff and assertive, rather harsh. If he had had his eyes open, he had a feeling he would’ve seen Ilsa jump in alarm.

“Mr. Jackieboy!” He heard her whine upsettingly at a higher pitch than before, desperately wanting her hero to stop and pay attention to her.

“D-Do you hate me?” The child sobbed. “Do – Do you not l-like me anymore?”

“SHUT UP!” The words nearly shattered his vocal cords. “YOU’RE NOT REAL!” There was a nasty bite to it as he screamed; a snarl of anger let loose to channel the hero’s frustration and turmoil.

He huffed and puffed, his nerves fried and going to the point he was subtly trembling from head to toe. He didn’t move, nor did he dare open his eyes just yet. He wasn’t ready to see whether or not the living corpse of the good doctor’s daughter still remained standing. He listened closely, expecting to hear the cries continue on and drive him to insanity.

Ilsa’s sobs had stuttered, softened, and ceased almost immediately after the hero’s screams. No more wet sniffling. No hiccups. No whines or whimpers or pleas. The distressed sounds of a child were no longer audible, only a haunting ear-ringing silence left to permeate the space around the green-haired ego. And through this silence, and over his unsteady panting, Jackie could make out the faintest deep breathing. Breaths plagued with a raspy wheeze and sickening gurgle as though the girl was choking on her own saliva.

“You were too late.”

A cool breeze whisked through the fabric of Jackieboy Man’s suit, chills prickling up his spine as he heard the change in the little girl’s voice. That hadn’t sounded like the Ilsa he knew. Her once sweet and angelic voice had fallen cold and monotone. Unfeeling. Dead. The words had slipped out eerily calm and unvarnished, voice absent of a tremor of heartache. Nothing gave away that the girl had been a crying, emotional mess a moment ago. His brow furrowed at not just hearing Ilsa speak but at what she had said. She had just suddenly decided to change the subject on a whim, not bothering to continue asking the ego about playing with her. To Jackie, everything felt as though it had been one big act, and seeing as how he hadn’t cooperated the way she had wanted, the act was dropped and disposed of. Releasing a shuddering breath, he pried his eyes open.

The man flinched and gasped softly in alarm at seeing the undead child standing before him. Her eyes were just as foggy and glazed over as he had remembered. She looked so much worse than the last time he’d seen her. Her hair was a mess of ratty tangled tendrils framing her now slightly pudgy face, which was littered with popped blisters and small blotches of blue and purple. Much larger patches of muddy maroon and indigo were swelling up in parts of her body that Jackie could see, bloating up with her liquefied insides. Her stomach had to have had a huge patch because there was an exceedingly great stain soaked with blood on the front of her dress. A thin sheen slicked her loose and soft flesh, causing the corners of her butchered smile to sag a tad bit. Discoloration had taken a massive toll on her skin; no longer white as a ghost, more so an abundance of plasma-yellow, bruise-purple, and ash-grey. Flies were swarming around her, quite a few having landed and now crawling upon her person. The fluid Jackie had seen leaking out of her mouth was now seen clearly as foamy blood oozing out from not just her mouth but her nose as well.

Jackieboy Man hacked and coughed at the putrescent odor emitting from Ilsa’s body, lifting an arm to block his nose and repressing the urge to vomit. His stomach recoiled in disgust at spotting a few small maggots squirming out through the exposed muscle of the girl’s Glasgow smile. Ilsa stared up at the hero unblinking as her head slowly tilted to the right with a cringe-worthy cracking.

“You were too late, Mr. Jackieboy.” She repeated in the same stony tone. The words were delivered like she was trying to drive home a point.

Jackie’s expression contorted into a hybrid of question and fear. Too late? Too late for what? His heart stuttered apprehensively at the reminder of Jack going off to check on Dr. Schneeplestein. He had wanted to check on the doctor himself, given how he had had a feeling something bad was going to happen to him, and yet he had allowed Jack to go in his place. He had chosen to risk storming off into the unmarked areas of the void to search for answers versus going in to protect a close friend. What if…

The red-suited hero hesitantly lowered his arm from his face, lips trembling in an effort to speak. A faint breath slid past them.

“What…” He shallowed thickly and dared to ask in a hushed whisper, “W-What do you mean?”

Ilsa stood there, unmoving and continuing to stare at him sinisterly. She was regarding his question carefully, as well as the way he had queried it. Then, unnervingly slow, she righted her head up and began to smile. The corners of her malformed face sluggishly stretched, chapped lips pulling back to bear teeth. An eerily cheerful giggle of amusement bubbled out of her, pushing thick ribbons of blood out of her mouth. She didn’t answer his question. Before Jackieboy Man had the chance to speak, the girl spun on her heel and ran off into the darkness, laughing playfully.

“Hey! Wait!” Jackie extended a hand outward before he found himself darting after her. “Wait! Ilsa! Where are you going?!”

She didn’t stop for him, nor did she look back or stop her giggling. For a dead little girl, she was surprisingly fast. The shadows were drawing her deeper into the dark to the point the hero could barely even see her. The pitter-patter of her feet hitting the wet ground was growing softer the further she went; light splashes of water getting mixed with the fluids seeping out from the orifices of her body. Jackie sprinted, squinting a bit and trying to not lose sight of her.

“Ilsa! Slow down!” He called out. “STOP!”

He himself skidded to a stop upon a now white-tiled floor. Everything before him was white.

For a fleeting moment, he had to squint given the unexpected brightness. The never-ending void he had been engulfed in a second ago had inexplicably become a long hallway bathed in blinding white from floor to ceiling. Glossed tiles made up the ground beneath his feet, T-bar fluorescent lights illuminating the entirety of the hall. Doors appearing to be heavy duty steel lined the walls, each one about fifteen to twenty feet apart. Ilsa was nowhere in sight.

Jackieboy Man’s face scrunched up in equal parts alarm and confusion, eyes darting around the place out of bewilderment.

“What?” He breathed, turning around to see if maybe there would be something to explain what had happened and where he was. He was only met with a wall.

The hero blinked with question, lifting both of his hands to touch the surface, testing to see if it was real. His gloved palms were met with a hard surface – it was solid polished concrete. He spun back around to face the lengthy hallway, utterly perplexed by what was going on. What had just happened? Where was he? How did he suddenly end up in some long pure-white hallway? And how did he manage to lose Ilsa in the process?

Sucking in a breath, he advanced forward, reminding himself why he had come this far to begin with. Something was wrong with the void and he was determined to unveil the truth behind what was going on. He’d never been out in the open uncharted space of the void before, nor had he ever come upon a place like the one he was currently walking through. Jack had never mentioned a long white hallway before.

What is this place? He thought, glancing around mystified as he went on.

“Ilsa?” He tried, eyeing down the pristine corridor for the deceased child.

He didn’t see or hear anyone. Slowly, with careful steps, he progressed further, taking curious looks at each door on either side of him.

“Ilsa? Can you hear me?” He tried again. “Where are you?” He didn’t want to see her again, but truthfully, the fact she had vanished in the blink of an eye and left him now in a deafeningly silent hall all alone was making him feel a lot more uncomfortable and alert than before.

His whole body had grown tense the moment he had entered this unknown environment and it still was. A suffocating wave of dread was slowly but surely drowning him no matter how hard he was trying to disregard it. Every inch of his being was cautioning him about his surroundings, as though he was half-expecting someone or something to come out of any one of the doors to jump him. He needed to be ready for anything. Even if no one was there, he still had Jack – or possibly the entity posing as him – to worry about. He had limited time on his hands, about an hour or less to find what he wanted and get out of there.

His eyes skimmed over along the handle of a nearby door, looking it over with thought. He took a glance down the hall at the other doors, wondering what could possibly be behind any one of them. He noticed how up ahead, the corridor curved to the right, meaning there was more to this place. The hero huffed softly, turning back to the door he was currently in front of. He went to turn the handle.

A girlish giggle echoed off of the walls and startled him. Jackie straightened, eyes darting to the end of the hall from which the unannounced giggle came from. He was surprised to see little Ilsa standing there, holding her hands down near her hips and beaming with joy.

“Ilsa?” Jackie called out, taking his hand away from the door handle. One step forward triggered the decaying girl to laugh and run out of sight around the corner. “Ilsa, wait!”

The hero took off after her, charging down the long corridor and making a sharp turn when he came to the end. He found himself going down yet another completely white hallway, only with far less doors than the one before. Up ahead he spotted Ilsa outside of a door, looking at him with that gross unpleasant smile again. A not-so-sweet chortle was the last thing to come from her as she opened the door and ran inside. Jackie quickly bolted for the door before it could slide shut, grasping it and pulling it wide open. Perplexity contorted the green-haired ego’s face when he was met with darkness. Ilsa had vanished without a trance unexplainably. Jackie would’ve groaned in frustration if it hadn’t been for what struck his attention about the room.

The walls and floor were sleek and black, the difference between the two seamless and giving the illusion of a deep continuous cavern. It was awfully dark; there was limited lighting, most of which was coming from more than several screens flickering in midair near the far left of the room. Brow furrowing with question, Jackie silently crept inside, hand sliding off of the door gently to make sure it’d remain cracked open. First casting a glance around the room, the hero’s eyes shot back to the hovering screens as he approached. Some were small, some were large, each one scattered about and overlapping others. At least half of them were corrupted by grain and static, white noise bouncing off of the walls of the darkened lair. The first few up front, however, while constantly glitching out, were displaying visible images. The hero neared them, momentarily noticing how there wasn’t a desk with technical equipment beneath these screens. No keyboards, no mouse, nothing. When he got closer, it was apparent then that the screens weren’t even monitors fixated on a wall; they were literally one with the air, made up of pixels and code.

Jackieboy Man lifted a hand and hesitantly moved to gently tap the closest screen. A light array of glitches broke out, startling the ego and causing him to retract his finger. He tried to see through the grain continuously distorting the images on display, attempting to make out what was being shown. Movement could be seen – what looked like figures moving around, doing god-knows-what. Flickers of what kind of looked like the inside of a circus tent were projected on the screen right up front. The tops of city buildings could be seen in a small screen behind it in the upper right corner. An eerily dead neighbourhood street was getting eaten away by pixels on an equally small screen to the left. Another screen to the right looked like it was monitoring what appeared to be a hospital operating room, bloodied with a deceased patient on the table. Jackie’s eyes flew across each screen, gradually widening as he came to recognize each image. He knew each place – he had been to each place. The realization caused his blood to run cold alarmingly fast.

For a minute, he found he couldn’t take his attention away from the screens. His body was paralyzed, stiffened in place by the growing anxiety slowly but surely working to take a hold of him. How could he have been so blind? How could he have not noticed anything wrong with the void earlier? How long had this been going on for – how long had this intruder been keeping an eye on every one of them? The hero in him was screaming at him to run off and find his brothers, overcome with this incessant need to get the fuck out of there and go and protect the egos from whatever the hell was pulling the strings here. And yet, he couldn’t get himself to leave – not yet. He had only scratched the surface. He needed an idea of who or what was behind this. He needed to know more. He needed more information, more answers.

Clenching his hands up into fists to gather some strength, he forced himself to tear his gaze away, releasing a held-in breath as a result. Lifting his head, he examined the rest of the room. His eyes fell onto the wall across the other side of the room, exhibiting a selection of diverse tools. An oblong wooden table was below, only a few inches away from it. Jackie stepped towards it, eyes roaming the assorted devices presented on the wall. Kitchen knives of all sorts gleamed in the light provided by the dim lightbulb hanging above, illuminating their sharpened edges. Butcher knives, meat cleavers, serrated blades, daggers – they all decorated the wall, most stained and having been used before for God knows what. There were saw blades as well – a coping saw, a handsaw, a hacksaw, a bone saw. The ego gulped audibly, his heart rate gradually climbing at the very thought of what any one of these vicious implements could be used for.

Tentatively, he finally dared to take a look at the items upon the table before him. There was a knife lined with both a rust-red substance and a thicker black one. Closer to the far edge of the table, an unpolished pocket watch was seen next to a small jar preserving something in some kind of transparent fluid. The masked man frowned, leaning down so as to get a better look at the jar’s contents. His face visibly paled, lips parting out of equal parts shock and revulsion. It was a severed tongue – a severed human tongue. His heart gave a worrisome pang in his chest, once again urging him to leave, but he steeled himself, morbid curiosity taking the reins.

His gaze shifted to the left of the jar, scanning over a larger jar filled halfway with thick black fluid. It kind of looked similar to the substance that was on the nearby knife. Jackie’s expression contorted into one of perplexity and mild fascination, not having a clue as to what it could be. Raising a hand, he moved to lightly touch it, almost compelled to lift the jar up to get a closer look, only to instantly stop at seeing the inky fluid slither up the glass at the first touch he gave. He gasped softly and flung back, taken off-guard by the movement.

This stuff was sentient? What even was it?

The hero took a breather, steadying his nerves before he stepped forward, lifting his finger again. Uncertainly, he hovered it an inch away from the glass, waiting to see what would happen. A shaken breath was wrenched out of him as he watched the substance glide up along the glass towards where his fingertip was, snaking up in thin black trails and running patterns of a circuit board. He slowly moved his finger from one side to the other, testing to see if his thoughts were correct – if the ooze was interested in him. Sure enough, wherever his finger went, lines of black would follow. It was as though the stuff wanted to get out and make contact with the hero. It was like a parasite.

“What…are you?” The words were whispered, the ego continuing to stare at the contained specimen with unease.

Out of his peripheral vision, another jar was situated; the lid having been discarded off to the side. Jackie’s consideration for the jar he was currently preoccupied with almost immediately was abandoned, turning his head to look at the open jar. There was nothing in it except for thin globs of residue from whatever had been inside it. Excess clear gel was congealing in the far left and what looked like blood covered the entire bottom of the jar, which was beginning to lose its bright red shade. Translucent rivulets of red and black spattered the inside walls, mainly so on the side of the jar facing Jackieboy Man. In fact, the top of the jar was coated in a mixture of blood, murky gel, and inky goo. Spotting this, the green-haired man straightened, a gloved hand going to run a finger over the rim. He withdrew and brought his hand in close, rubbing the ooze between his fingers, noting just how viscous it was. He leaned in and took a whiff. Iron and a pungent sickly-sweet scent that knocked back Jackie’s senses. His brows weaved together out of question, looking at the substance with thought. He cast a glance over at the knife soaked in red and black, then to the jar of inky fluid, which had receded back down the moment Jackie had removed his finger.

What the hell is all of this? The question prodded at his brain as he looked back to the empty jar.

He disposed of what was on his fingers on his suit, looking from one thing on the table to the next. His roaming eyes came to an immediate halt once he saw what was at the end of the table. His eyes grew in size, the fist-sized organ in his chest stuttering painfully.

“No…” He croaked, succumbing to the dread conjuring up scenarios in his head.

His left hand had a mind of its own, already stretching outward to pick up the grey snapback. The signature pink skull on the front was adding fuel to what he was afraid of, as were the small specs of maroon across the side. But it wasn’t until he turned the hat over that his fears were confirmed. He nearly dropped the snapback at seeing a couple of loose strands of highlighter-green hair on the inside.

Oh fuck…Oh god, no…Chase. His chest had tightened immensely to the point he could barely breathe. Why – Why is this here? Why, He did a once-over the entire desk, bewildered and on the verge of panicking, Why the hell is your hat here, Chase?

But he did know. He knew why it was there, but he couldn’t accept the truth, he couldn’t accept the conclusion his mind had put together. One of the egos – one of his brothers…Something horrible must’ve happened to him…and he hadn’t known. He hadn’t known?! How could he have not felt something wrong?! His hands were shaking now, trembling from both the anger towards himself and the terror digging its claws into his heart. His fingers coiled around the hat as he glanced over to where the screens were, locking his sights onto the one displaying Chase’s neighbourhood.

“Chase, what happened to you?” He looked back down at the hat, loosening his grip. “Who got to you?”

His ears perked the second he heard and saw something glitch spastically into view in front of him. Pixels and lines of glitches zigzagged in the air, piecing together to create a paper-thin rectangular object that fluttered down onto the table. Jackieboy Man inched forward, setting Chase’s hat down where it’d been before in exchange for the new souvenir that had shown up. It was a postcard reading “WISH YOU WERE HERE” on the front. A light spatter of red decorated it, which caused the hero to recoil, putting it back down immediately.

You need to get out of here.

An icy draft blew through the room then, chilling the ego to the bone and striking up a metal creaking coming off to the left of where he stood. Jackie jolted, jerking his head in the direction from where the sound had come from. The other half of the room, he was now noticing, was different than the rest. From wall-to-wall, it became one big, secure, wire mesh cage used for storage. The door had been left unlocked, having creaked open a bit when the breeze hit. It was nearly as dark as the rest of the room, however. The masked man couldn’t really make anything out other than what he thought were probably fluorescent lights suspended above.

Don’t. You NEED to get out of here.

Coerced by his persistent need to keep snooping around, Jackieboy Man ignored what his gut was telling him and cautiously progressed towards the cage. His breathing grew unsteady with each step he took, wary of something lurking in the shadows and waiting to pounce. He should’ve been leaving; he should’ve been looking for Jack. Why the hell was he still here?!

He looked to the wall to his left, standing right outside the cage as he felt around for a light switch. His body stiffened when he flicked the switch, bracing himself for something to spring forth to reveal itself. The lights flashed, flickering on one after another, shedding light on what was in the ginormous cage. Jackie had to squint and blink a few times over to allow his eyes to adjust to the brightness, what with having gotten used to being in the dark. Becoming accustomed to the light, he could finally see the setup of the room. Swallowing thickly, the hero pulled the door open, a nearly deafening screech producing from it. He sucked in a breath as he stepped inside.

It gave off the appearance of a large prison cell. The three walls making up the room for which the cage surrounded were made up of blackened bricks and the flooring was a lot more scuffed up than the smooth and glossy one taking up the rest of the lair. A few rusted pipes lined the left wall, the side of which there was a cracked porcelain sink adorned with mahogany-red stains. A shattered mirror hung crookedly above it, shards of it both in the sink as well as on the floor around it. An old corroded cabinet of sorts was situated across from the sink up against the right wall, one of the doors open with the contents inside spilled out on the floor: a few scalpels and a couple pairs of forceps, all of which were stained with the same mahogany-red as the stains in the sink. There were large hard-to-see portions of this red on the floor as well; Jackie could just barely make out spots and footprints all across the floor, like someone had been pacing around the place. Smeared handprints were visible on the walls as well, giving Jackie the impression someone had possibly been in a struggle. A harrowing amount of maroon had splattered all across the bedspread of the cot in the back, completely ruining it.

Jackieboy Man hesitantly moved a step further into the room. The crunching of glass came from beneath his boot. He noticed how a rather large piece of the mirror was coated in what had to be dried blood, as though it had been used to wound someone or something. He swallowed dryly, not wanting to delve too deep into thought about what could have happened.

Carefully maneuvering his way around the bits and pieces of glass, as well as the assortment of surgical instruments, the hero’s foot brushed against something; a light rattling originating from it. He stopped where he was, casting a glance down at his feet. His eyes followed the path of a chain, one end connecting to the left wall, close to the cot. The other end led elsewhere, curving around to the other side of the cot. From where he was standing, he couldn’t see what it was linked to.

His thoughts were starting to get the better of him right then, flashes of Chase’s bloodied hat coming to mind. The lub-dubbing of his heart was going at an unsteady pace now, as was his breathing.

Oh please no.

Slowly and uncertainly, the masked man inched forward, one small step after another.

Please.

His eyes remained fixed on the chain, following it as he went to turn the corner.

Don’t.

A sinking feeling was developing in the pit of his stomach.

Not Chase.

Who he ended up seeing wasn’t Chase. Jackieboy Man froze, turning his body to face where the chain ended. His line of sight followed it, a hiccup of a gasp getting choked up in his throat. Eyes growing to the size of saucers and jaw dropping in horror, the hero was not prepared with what he saw. All of the blood in his face drained, going as white as a sheet and feeling a tad lightheaded. He stumbled backward, hand shooting up to cover his mouth to hold back a scream.

Vacant blue eyes. A tuff of messy dyed hair. Unkempt dress clothes decorated with blood. The pale-grey face mirroring that of his creator.

Jackie could barely breathe. His stomach dropped so suddenly, and with it, an invisible weight had chosen then to compress his lungs, forcing any and all air out of them. The thudding of his heart had skyrocketed to the point it hurt. He felt cold, he felt so abnormally cold all over. Fingers trembling, limbs quivering, breaths racked and erratic. Fear had swallowed the heroic ego whole.

Get out. You need to get out. You need to get out now – RIGHT NOW!

He didn’t think twice, he didn’t argue with himself. Not again. Jackie hurried out of the caged room immediately, slipping on a few pieces of glass and lurching forward into the door. He caught himself, straightening up and pushing away from the cage, bee-lining straight for the front door. The masked man was halfway to the exit when a sharp agonizing pain shot through his left arm. A cut-off scream was ripped from his throat, the thing latched to him sinking its teeth in deeper. Something was wrapped around his arm, applying pressure and squeezing it like a boa constrictor. Jackie staggered backward into the wire mesh, hissing through his teeth and going to grab at what was attacking him. His eyes bulged at seeing a forest green tentacle made up of veins tightening around his arm.

“Sam?!” He exclaimed, taken aback at recognizing the septic eye, whose iris and pupil had pulled open into a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth.

The optical organ gave a growl in reply, further strangling the hero’s arm and cutting off the circulation to his hand. Jackieboy Man yelped at the extreme discomfort, instantaneously reaching for the eyeball’s optic nerve and wrenching on it, trying to pull him off. He wasn’t letting up.

“What the hell?! Let go!” Jackie tried, prying at the slippery nerve and managing to coil it around his fingers. “Come on, Sam, let go! It’s me!”

Sam still wasn’t releasing his hold on the ego. He hissed warningly when the hero gave a harsh and rather violent yank, succeeding in peeling the septic eye’s nerve away. Clenching his teeth and bracing himself for the oncoming pain, Jackie tugged with all the strength he could muster. He let out a scream at feeling a piece of skin getting torn away as he ripped the feral eye from his arm, whipping him far across the room. Jackie pressed back into the cage, cradling his arm and taking a look at the damage that had been done. A good portion of his sleeve had been removed, beneath it a bite wound with the first layer of skin gone. Blood was welling up, already escaping and running down his arm.

Jackieboy Man panted, wincing at the pain when he went to move his arm. He heard an angry hiss alongside the uneven sound of glitches, causing him to jerk his head up in time to see Sam launching himself in his direction. He dodged the snapping jaws dead set on tearing a new one into him, only to dart to the left again, nearly getting the tip of his nose bitten off. No matter where he moved, no matter how fast, the septic eye was swimming around at a startlingly rapid pace. Jackie kept on backing away, bringing his arms up to shield his face from the attacks. A sharp gasp was knocked out of him as Sam nipped at the open wound on his arm.

“Sam, come on, it’s me! It’s Jackieboy Man!” He tried again, hoping to drive some sense into the little guy. The nerve of the eyeball got a hold of his wrist and lunged. Jackie quickly blocked the strike, grimacing at the piercing of teeth sinking into his flesh. “What’s gotten into you?!”

Sam growled deeply, moving in a way like he had one goal to tear another piece of the hero away. Jackie jerked his arms hard enough to get the eyeball’s grip to loosen, giving him a chance to twist his hand and grab hold of Sam’s optic nerve. Through his gloves, he dug his nails in, really driving home pain into his assailant. He tugged and strained to pull at the septic eye’s nerve until Sam released him, letting out a distressed screech of his own. The ego saw his chance, sinking his nails in as deep as he could before whirling on his heel and hurling the eyeball directly into the wall of knives. Sam hit them with a light splat, squealing out of agony at grazing the edges of a few; mouth momentarily shrinking in on itself and revealing his iris and pupil. Jackie huffed where he stood, watching as the septic eye curled up, hovering in the air and locking onto the ego. Sam glared at him furiously, his form exploding into a flurry of tiny pixels briefly. Jackie’s face screwed up with bewilderment, having a hard time believing what his eyes just witnessed. A hiss of distain originated from the floating optical organ, getting ready to charge.

“Sam, please!” The hero begged, not wanting to bring any more harm to his creator’s mascot. “I don’t want to hurt you!”

The septic eye sprang at him without a thought, the jagged shark-like teeth sprouting forth once more. Jackie jumped back and ducked, arms crossed and protecting his face. Sam relentlessly assaulted him, striking him repeatedly, biting away at his arms like a rabid animal. The masked man would block a few hits, cringing and recoiling out of agony at each blow, stepping backward and making sure not to run into anything. With jaw clenched tight, and sucking in a breath, a hand balled up into a fist and he struck back, hitting the eyeball dead on. He backhanded him as a bonus to give himself some time to get some distance between them.

Jackieboy Man ran for the front door, wanting to get the hell out and trap Sam inside. He yelped in surprise at spotting Sam out of the corner of his eye, mouth open wide and ready to bite. He barely had the time to react, spinning around and falling back into the table just as the septic eye attacked, stopped by the hero’s hand. Jackie stifled a cry at feeling his lower back collide with the edge of the table but having Sam’s teeth hook into the palm of his hand made him wheeze. He held himself up against the table, straining to curl his fingers around the eyeball, what with the pain radiating throughout his hand. Sam wiggled against the hero’s hand, nerve swishing back and forth like that of a tail of an irritated cat. He was starting to gnaw away at the palm of Jackie’s hand, ripping a helpless scream from the hero; blood leaking out of him and dripping to the floor below.

The ego turned his head and quickly scanned the table for something to use, something to aid him in putting a stop to this. He had tried to talk to the septic eye and bring him back from whatever prison his heart had been shoved into. He had made an attempt only to be met with no change from his friend. Sam was still fueled by unrighteous fury and hostility and it didn’t seem like he was going to stop until Jackie had been taken down. Jackieboy Man couldn’t see any other way to end this but one. His sights landed on the large open jar.

He snarled and gave a yell mixed with agony and frustration as he sank his nails into the eyeball; pushing back, grabbing hold of his nerve, and flinging him towards the front door. Sam hit it hard enough to knock it wide open, the eyeball screeching and spinning disoriented out into the hallway. Jackie didn’t dare pause and think before he acted. He reached for the large empty jar, headed for the exit, and right as the septic eye went to lunge at him, he swung the jar; sending the eyeball backward. A light spurt of slime hit the hero’s face at the impact. He heard a small whimper come from Sam, who had temporarily stopped in midair to rub at his own eyeball. When he blinked, Jackie caught sight of red blotches, evidence that a few blood vessels had popped from the collision.

Sam blinked a few times before he turned toward his foe, hissing angrily with his nerve arched, ready to attack. Charging forth and growling, he took another blow from the jar, this time from above and with more force behind it. Another spurt of goo along with a petite amount of blood ejected from him. The optical organ hit the white-tiled floor of the hall, expelling a hybrid of a whine and snarl as a small amount of blood and goo oozed out of him onto the floor. He pried his eye open and scowled at the ego darkly, curling in on himself and hissing lowly. Jackie huffed and dropped to his knees, raising the jar above his head at the first sign of glitches breaking out across his friend. Sam’s form was briefly devoured by pixels, he went to move, and then he ate glass.

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Part 19 - Blood On Your Hands

Part 21 - The Hole at the Center of Everything

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