#bodega strike

[ittybittyfanblog]

Only You, Darling (Only You, Babe)

Summary: There were orders for your abduction. You were made to be the bait by a rival gang to get to the elusive head of Onychinus. Sylus doesn’t take it too well. Word Count: 4.8k Tags: mc x sylus, fem!reader x sylus (use of she/her pronouns), depictions of violence (it gets a little graphic), reader gets abducted and injured, strong language, protective!sylus, he’s a little unhinged here, self-indulgent! A/N: I can’t believe this game pulled me out of a three-year creative rut LMAO. I’ve been doing fanarts, now I’m writing again?? The power these pixelated men hold over me, man.  Anyway, enjoy!  This version of Sylus is probably a little OOC idk idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It was close to midnight, and you're being followed.

On your six, a stocky man in an unassuming dark suit has been tailing you since you left the dingy bodega a little over a mile away from your apartment for about, three? five minutes– no, maybe even longer.

Shit, you mouth silently. Sloppy. You should’ve noticed him sooner, and the two other lackeys now closing in from up ahead. They’re armed too, if the hands hidden inside their jackets were any indication.

As if things aren't looking bad enough, you’ve decided tonight would be the perfect night to go weaponless, deciding against bringing your handgun with you since it was supposed to just be a quick run to the store for supplies. Namely, the late-night cravings sort of supply.

You clutch the wrinkled paper bag containing your coveted jalapeño Cheetos tightly.

This is what greed does to you, a mocking voice echoes in your head. Since when did your inner voice of reason sound masculine and oh-so-familiar? 

Exhaling quietly, you try to calm the rising beat of your heart and appear to be clueless of your surroundings. Walk at a normal pace. Look unaware of the men with the intention to… What even was this? An ambush? Good, old, regular robbery? No, it doesn’t seem like they were in it for something that insignificant. They wouldn’t even bother to be this cautious if it were. 

But then, what were they here for? The dangers you were more familiar with are of the monstrous kind in the literal sense of the word; entities that you face on a daily basis as a Deepspace hunter. Not the regular threats posed by mankind – which in this particular situation, suddenly feels more foreboding.

While racking your brain for ideas on how to slip away from their sight without escalating the situation, you fail to notice a fourth person hidden behind the dumpster inside the narrow alleyway on your left until you feel the cold, hard edge of a pistol gun hit your temple.  

With a shout, your hand shoots up in an attempt to yank the gun away from the hand holding it but the sudden burst of pain from the impact has left you feeling dizzy and off-kilter. The moment you throw your fists up to block your face, heavy fists strike you directly in a flurry of hits, colliding with your forearm and your unguarded ribs.

You let out a pained grunt as you stagger backwards, trying your hardest to keep yourself from falling back on your ass and ward off the next incoming attack. 

A sinister laugh alerts you of the others, now surrounding you in a circle. Shit!

You hastily shift your legs into a crouching position, bracing yourself as you attempt to sidestep the one in front of you before making a run for it. You spring into action, but before you can even take another step, an arm shoots out and coils tightly around your neck like a noose. A cloth that reeks of something distinct is slapped over your mouth and nose, rendering you unable to do anything but struggle. 

“Now, now– the boss wants her in one piece, John,” The stocky man, who’s apparently larger and more jacked up-close, pipes up. John tightens the limb circling your throat, preventing you from breathing, before slightly loosening his grip. 

 “I’d advise you from struggling too much, sweetheart. But if you insist on making this harder for yourself,” the man talking suddenly grins, revealing rows of crooked, silver teeth. “He ain’t said nothin’ about a couple of bruises.” 

You give him your dirtiest glare, trying to pull away from the death grip the burly man called John had on you, but you feel your muscles slowly becoming heavier and your vision starting to blur. 

Ch-chloroform?

You make a muffled shout, a scurry that earns you a heavy hit on the stomach, one last futile move to free yourself, but the inevitable effect of the potent substance starts to overpower you. 

“After all, we need to make sure that the big bad boss of Onychinus actually comes for his bitch, don’t we?”

Rendered completely useless, the men start to make quick work to restrain your arms and legs in a hogtie before carrying you down the street, to a shaded corner where a large, gray van is parked.

The barn doors open, and you’re tossed in carelessly to the back, landing painfully on the cold, hard floor. An involuntary whimper escapes your lips, feeling like one big bruise; splotches of red and blue start to form like a violent watercolor on your skin. 

The engine revs. Before completely losing consciousness, you think you hear a faint caw.

The car drives off the beaten path, into the night, leaving not a trace of evidence of what transpired mere minutes ago aside from a discarded brown paper bag and a deflated bag of chips. 

-

-

-

From a distance, flying towards the hazy skyline, a mechanical bird crows a bad omen. 

_____

In the dead of the night, the head of Onychinus sits as a spectator; a towering presence at the head of a table inside a private room, obscured in plain sight, in an unremarkable establishment far east of Linkon City. 

Unassuming as it may be, the room’s occupants are men of great renown, both in influence and notoriety. The CEO of a chain business in Azure Square, a regional manager of a well-known bank in Linkon, the head of a weapons trade representing a faction in the N109 zone… All held significant power, all held ulterior motives.

A meeting of minds; the type held only in the secrecy of the night, gone in the break of dawn. 

Sylus has half the mind to listen in on the droning exchange of fake pleasantries and plastic smiles as the men deal trades in nature that of weapons and favors. A number of hungry, beady eyes cast him furtive glances, fearful yet devout. Some cautious in the hope of earning his approval. 

“–the package will be en route to the agreed-upon address by the end of the week,” a stout man in spectacles finishes off, clearing his throat. Beads of sweat start to form at the back of his neck as red eyes bore into his, assessing. Deliberating. “O-or if Richard’s able to give me the go-ahead in advance, I’ll make sure it arrives by Friday,” a gulp–then, “sir.” 

All in reverence. 

He hums, his switchblade dancing idly in his hand, deliberately stretching the tension that hangs heavy in the air. He delights in this power to unsettle, savoring the authority that his mere presence commands—a demand for absolute deference. 

“Make it half that time, will you, Raymond?” Sylus responds amicably, not as a question. The man, Raymond, sputters. 

“That won’t be pos–” Sylus tilts his head, eyes shifting into something more dangerous. “Please, I’ll try to cut the time shorter but there won’t be any assurances.” 

The pale-haired man sighs in acquiescence. “I guess that will have to do.” Raymond lets out an exhale of relief, but catches his breath as Sylus continues, “Any later than Wednesday, and I’ll come to claim it personally.” 

Raymond, more nerves than man, starts to blabber something in response–but stops when something black suddenly appears in a blaze of dark energy, near the shoulder of the intimidating man he’s trying to appeal to. 

Sylus raises a hand, and a large crow lands on his pointer finger. 

He caws, once. Twice. And shows a projection. 

The inhospitably cold room suddenly went glacial. 

All conversation halts to a stop as an overwhelmingly suffocating aura starts to emanate from the man–no, the being at the head of the table, making all that are in the vicinity freeze in fear. 

The devil posing as the leader of Onychinus abruptly stands up, and Raymond thinks, Oh I’m going to die here.

Without a word, the man disappears in a Stygian haze.

_

Five minutes later, only after they felt like death was no longer looming over their heads, did anyone dare to move a muscle.

_____

Your head hurts, and your mouth tastes of rust. 

Having been awake for longer than your captors were aware of – two (?) of which bickering near a barred slate of metal that you assume is the door after taking a quick peek from beneath the mess of hair concealing your face – you try to get your bearings together without arousing the suspicion of your present audience. 

“–bet it’s gonna take a while ‘fore that guy arrives. You think she’s enough to get him to show his face?” 

“Damned if I know. In any case, we got a pretty, li’l plaything on our hands,” a snort. “Make her worth the effort.” 

Where were you? From what it looks like, you’ve been transported into a nondescript underground bunker of sorts, dank with a hint of mildew and rot in the air; a rumbling air vent on your left masking any noise that escaped your mouth when you woke up. The area is poorly lit, save for the flickering bulb hanging precariously above your head as your main source of light – good for casting shadows to hide your bruised face, bad for the pounding headache you’re pretty sure is a concussion. And with your back seemingly close to a wall, you arrive at the conclusion that there are no other entryways, no way to leave, but the guarded door in front of you. 

In short, you have no idea where you are. 

Fuck–this is bad, you swear to yourself internally, trying to control the rising panic swelling up your chest. You never thought your nightcap would lead to this mess. Nobody knows about your current predicament, and it’ll take more than a day before your absence raises any alarms, so right now, you’re on your own. 

Think, think! What can you do?

What can you do? You have nothing on you, nothing you can use as a makeshift weapon to defend yourself with, and your hands are tightly bound behind your back by a thick, heavily twined rope with no give. The situation is slowly turning bleaker by the second, and it isn’t even your fault that you’re here in the first place! You were made a pawn, a mere bait in this messed-up dick-measuring contest between a crazy, sadistic, self-proclaimed head honcho and Onychinus’s own crazy, sadistic–

Wait a minute. Sylus. 

You send a strong prayer to anyone above that’s listening, and an angry telepathic shout for good measure to the one who’s unaware of his involvement – but nonetheless the source of your ruined night – in this attempt at kidnapping a perfectly law-abiding citizen of Linkon.

Sylus, as much as I hate your unfortunate tendency to stalk me through means that, honestly? Eludes the hell out of me, I really, REALLY hope that you’ve been keeping tabs toni–

“Hey, boss! I think this one’s awake!”

Fuck. No use pretending anymore. 

You hear heavy footsteps from outside the room before the corroded metal door swings open to reveal a large man, easily standing above six feet, sporting a neatly trimmed beard and an unsettling smile. His arms are covered in tattoos– overlapping, almost undecipherable. A gnarly scar runs from the side of his mouth to just above his brow bone; his right eye a cloudy gray, most likely a morbid souvenir from the sustained injury.

His functional eye zeroes in on your pitiful form, and his smile widens into a hostile grin. 

“Well, well. It seems like our esteemed guest is finally ready to join in the fun,” His voice sounds like gravel, with a mocking intonation. “I hope my men weren't too rough with you on the way here.” 

You let out a breath through your teeth, blinking a few times to try and rid the blurring in your vision. You have to bide your time– “Why am I here? What do you want from me?” 

The man cocks his head to the side, smile still in place. “I assume you already know. But I’ll indulge you your little questions, why not?”

He crosses the space separating the two of you with just a few, languid steps before he’s in front of you. He leans forward, brushing the messy locks of hair – dried with blood – away from your face in a deceptively calm manner. “The devil needs to pay his dues, but it’s been rather difficult to get a hold of him, you see,” he sighs in exaggerated disappointment. ”I intend to collect, so I waited patiently for the right moment, for an opening. For an opportunity. 

And here, the opportunity presents herself.” 

You sneer, moving your head back to let your hair fall from his creepy hold. “I’ve no clue what you’re talking about, mister, but I’m pretty sure you’ve got the wrong idea.”

He barks out a laugh before gripping your chin tightly between his fingers. “You’ve got a smart mouth on you. Maybe we can find a better use for it.” 

You feel it before you hear it. 

“Perhaps not.” 

Something vicious saturates the air, something intense and terrifying and wrong. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and some sort of primordial response deep within your brain is telling you to get away from it.

But then, the paralyzing fear melts away to something akin to hope when you realize the source of this new disturbance.

Relief washes over you when familiar ink-and-red tendrils materialize behind the man in front of you. The dark wisps dissipate like smoke as soon as it comes and in place, your savior – sporting an expression that could only be described as downright murderous – stands before you, all six feet of unadulterated rage.

Several things happened so fast, it was almost simultaneous.

A cacophony of shouts came loudest from the two men who had been on guard duty but screams also echoed from outside the room. You saw flashes of red, twin laughter, and blood spurting from the necks of the now headless guards, and then a symphony of bullets and a lot of things breaking rang across the room. 

Suddenly– 

Deafening silence. As if something has put an abrupt stop to the noise. 

Amidst all the chaos, the scarred man in front of you had no time to make a move before savage whips of crackling energy engulfed him, leaving only his head free from the smothering darkness. 

His expression betrays something wild and manic as he tries twisting around to look at the figure behind him. “You–”

Sylus pays no mind to the breathing, dead fool – lower than dirt on his feet, with the nerve to harm what is most precious to him – as he keeps his gaze solely on you; his eyes darting up and down as if taking inventory of all the bruises and scrapes you sustained from the abduction. 

You meet his eyes. “You came.” 

An indecipherable look passes his face, gone as quickly as it came. “A little too late. I apologize.” 

You weakly huff out a chuckle, wanting to shake your head but decide against it lest it aggravates your concussion. A prickling sensation, then the rope around your wrists falls off with a quiet thud. 

“Luke. Kieran.” 

“Everything’s all accounted for, boss,” Kieran announces, suddenly appearing beside your right, along with Luke who’s on your left. Both look no worse for wear.

 The latter gives you a sympathetic look. “Oh, man. They got you good, little crow.” 

“Caught me off-guard, s’all,” you insist half-heartedly. 

A sigh. “Transport her directly back to base. Attend to her critical injuries once you arrive, and keep her awake. I’ll handle the rest once I get back,” Sylus instructs the twins in a tone that brooks no argument.

They nod in sync and start making a move to carry you out, but you protest.

“Wait, you’re staying behind?” For some reason, the thought of being separated from him, even for a short amount of time, makes you feel ill. Well, worse than your current state at least. 

Sanguine eyes soften when he hears the tremble in your voice. The offending man in front of you, reduced into something less threatening than a cowering dog in comparison to your rescuer, is forcibly pushed aside to make room for Sylus as he steps closer. 

He crouches low so that you’re looking down on him instead of up. One large hand covers both of yours, mindfully avoiding the fresh rope burns on your wrists, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the unmarred part of your skin. 

“This will be quick, sweetie. I’ll be back by your side before you know it,” he exhales, closing his eyes for a moment. “I swear to you.”

You swallow, but nodded reluctantly. “Come home soon.” 

“I will.”

With that, you let yourself be carried out of the claustrophobic space you were confined to, into a larger room littered with unmoving bodies that you're frankly too tired to care about at the moment, up three (rickety) flights of stairs where you exit into what looks like the inside of an empty shipping container, before finally, finally getting out. 

A gust of salty wind hits you and you ask, “Are we near the docks?” 

“Yeah,” Kieran answers, carefully putting you down on the backseat of Sylus’ car. “Mephisto trailed after the van they stuffed you in before reporting back to the boss. We followed soon after.” 

Luke frowns as he inserts the key in the ignition. “We weren’t aware that they had eyes on you for a while now. An oversight on our part, won’t happen again,” he assures you. “Gotta give them props for that, at least.” 

Kieran, now getting in the passenger side of the vehicle, shoots him a look. 

“Anyway, we’re glad we got to you before they did anything… worse,” Kieran continues, then winces in a show of mock sympathy. “Can’t say the same to that fucker back inside. Haven’t felt Sylus’ bloodlust this strong in a long while.” 

You try to focus on their words, but you feel yourself nodding off as the remaining adrenaline slowly leaves your body. You know you should feel more worried about what the two were insinuating, but your mouth still tastes like you swallowed a bunch of coins and you just want a soft bed to sleep in for an entire day. Or three. 

“Oi, no sleeping. Doctor’s orders,” A snapping finger in front of your face forces you awake. 

You blink your tired eyes open in an attempt to stay lucid, the pulsing pain in your head becoming more prominent as soon as the threat of danger has passed. 

“This is gonna be a long night,” you sigh, wishing that Sylus will keep his word and be quick about… whatever he’s planning to do with your abductor. 

–––––

There hasn’t been much left of the man who proclaims to be the new head of an arms syndicate Sylus had dealt with in the past. He recalls the history of his relationship with the cartel being less than cordial, but nothing that would warrant his ire. Except for tonight.

He usually doesn’t leave a trace when doling out punishments; no, not anymore. Not in recent years. He prefers to be efficient about his killings, dissipating any evidence in thin air after reducing them into fine paste, rather than make a big show out of it. Quick and precise.

Except today… Someone had the arrogance, the absolute audacity to steal directly from the dragon’s nest.

The contents of which have always been kept in strict confidentiality. What is known, only chosen individuals bound to secrecy are privy to, and a lot of people would kill for. 

But unbeknownst to anyone else but its owner, only one thing in this hoard of secrets truly matters to the dragon. One solitary treasure alone he would burn planets for – and someone has tried to steal it.

Harm. the treasure. To get to him. 

It seems as if the new bloods needed a reminder of who, exactly, they’re stealing from. 

One who dwells deep within the underbelly of the cities both monster and men inhabit, that even the most heinous of sinners seeking solace in the dark, are afraid of. 

And what retribution tastes like to those who are foolish enough to bite more than what they can chew.

The poor soul unfortunate enough to be the first one to discover the carnage will witness that what was left of the man that had wronged the Onychinus kingpin is stuck on the walls, the floor, and the ceiling of a basement where the treasure was held captive. They will find that the man’s innards are deliberately hung in a haphazard fashion, in all corners of the room like bloody, sinewy tinsel. 

And the centerpiece of this bloodbath is none other than the man’s decapitated head, forcibly attached to the hanging light in the middle of the room. A bulb crudely drilled past his cranium, while blood dripped down the floor in slow, ominous rivulets. 

They will understand in dawning horror that the one responsible for this... gross butchery, has left the head swinging. That the man’s mouth will forever remain agape in an eternal scream to immortalize the exact moment he realizes the gravity of his sin.   

Yes, Sylus is more than glad to remind them. 

_____

You arrive a quarter past four AM. 

Barely taking a step past the foyer, the twins immediately whisk you inside to perform an ‘emergency patch-up.’ Luke’s words, not yours.

“We’re your personal CNA while waiting for the head nurse to take over,” he explains cheerfully, wrapping another layer of gauze around your wrist. You hiss when Kieran dabs a cotton ball on the gash on your temple, peroxide fizzing as it comes in contact with the dried-up blood. Muttering out a “sorry!” Kieran does quick work in cleaning the injury and covering the affected area.

In no time at all, all visible wounds are bandaged and disinfected. The worst of your head wound had to be stitched up, but other than that, nothing seems to require immediate medical attention. There’s nothing left for you to do but to bear the aches that came along with the bruises – especially on your tender midriff – and to pop a tylenol for your throbbing headache.

You offer them a sincere, “Thanks. No, really.” before they leave you in Sylus’ room, after multiple reminders to “not sleep before the attending nurse arrives for the final diagnosis.” 

(You think they might have enjoyed playing caretaker a little too much.) 

With a lot more effort than you care to admit, you painstakingly remove your bloodstained clothes until you're down to your underwear, before draping yourself in a large, red, silk robe. A hot shower sounds heavenly to your sore muscles, but the soft mattress is calling to you more so you head straight to bed. 

With nothing else to occupy yourself with, you prop your head on a mountain of pillows – to keep yourself relatively upright – and let out a sigh. 

Tonight had been a shitshow. All you wanted was something to snack on while you binge through the last season of the show you were watching back at your apartment; you never thought a late-night run to the store just a few blocks away would result in… this. If not for Sylus’ intervention, you’re sure you'd be leaving with a lot more than a couple of scrapes. If not worse.

You're lost in your own thoughts when short, successive raps on the door catch your attention. It swings open before you have the chance to pipe out a, “come in!”

Speak of the devil.

Sylus enters the room, not a hair out of place. You notice that he’s changed into a casual, brown sweater and a pair of dark-washed jeans. His eyes meet yours, tightly-controlled expression relaxing as he crosses the room towards the side of your bed, wasting no time. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Still pretty sore, but Luke and Kieran already handled the worst of my injuries,” you answer, making a move to sit up. Sylus tuts disapprovingly, gentle as he puts a hand on your chest to prevent you from moving any further. He sits gingerly on the edge of the mattress, careful not to jostle you. Once fully settled, he let out a deep sigh.

“You had me worried for a moment there, kitten.” He admits, a slightly rough edge to his voice as emotion seeps into it. He regards you intently, like he’s trying to convince himself that you’re here, safe. 

Your hand reaches out towards his face. Without missing a beat, he leans in to nuzzle your palm, eyes closing shut. He reminds you of a big wolf, unbridled fire simmering beneath the surface, yet tame in the presence of his handler. 

“I’m fine now, thanks to you,” you assure him with a lopsided smile. “Give my thanks to Mephisto, as well. Tell him he gets a pass on the stalking this time.” 

Sylus opens his eyes, a hint of amusement and something else you can’t identify flickering through. “Oh, sweetie. You’ll be lucky if that bird gives you the privacy to bathe alone after tonight,” he jokes. 

He’s joking. Right?

You eye him for a moment before deciding to let it go. You're too tired to argue.

Instead, you cautiously ask a question you aren’t sure you even want the answer to. “What happened after we left?” 

Sylus expression doesn’t change except for the upward tick on the corner of his mouth; the same peculiar glint in his eyes coming across a little stronger. “They won’t be bothering you anymore. You don’t need to worry about anyone coming for you.”

“That’s not what I asked.” 

He hums. “Do you really want to know?”

You stare at him, and he stares back at you placidly. 

You purse your lips and look away. “Maybe not.” 

Sylus breathes out a laugh. He gently grasps your chin between his forefinger and thumb, guiding your head to meet his gaze once more. A softer look on his face, inching closer to yours.

Your heartbeat slightly picks up. In your vulnerable state, you feel a welling desire to bare your feelings to the man in front of you. You want to tell him how relieved you felt when you saw him in that cursed basement, how he was able to quell your fears with just his presence alone the moment he appeared in a familiar haze of black and red. Like your own, personal, vindictive guardian. 

Instead, you close the distance between the two of you, your lips meeting his. 

Sylus groans quietly, a hand cupping your face as he leans closer to deepen the kiss. Your eyes flutter shut, savoring the feeling of contentment from being this close to him. You feel, more than you see, how his taut body loses the remaining tension from the events that transpired just mere hours ago, how he finally relaxes as he loses himself in you.

Very carefully, he eases you further down, cradling your head with one hand until it rests on a pillow. His lips drift to the corner of your mouth, trailing soft kisses up to the apples of your cheeks, your forehead, then to your nose. 

He pulls back slightly, chuckling when you make a sound of discontent. When you open your eyes, you see him looking at you– half-lidded and tender. 

In a low voice, he instructs, “Rest. You need it.”

The feeling of exhaustion pulls you in, but before you surrender to it, you remind Sylus, “I’m not that fragile, you know. You don’t have to worry too much.” You poke his cheek and he catches the offending digit to bite it affectionately. “I’ll be up and running in no time.”

He doesn't speak for a minute, considering your words. His mouth sets into a thin line before letting out a sigh.

“And if you get hurt again? What then?" He whispers so quietly, seeming as if he's talking to himself.

"I'll get hurt again, that's for sure," You tell him, matter-of-factly. "But really, that’s just an occupational hazard. I’m sure you realize."

“Love — what a terrible, little thing,” he muses, half-forlornly, half in jest. "I’d rip this cold heart out and throw it in flames if I could.”

While speaking, his hand finds its way into the tangles of your hair, gently running his fingers through the strands in a lulling manner. His lips landing on the crown of your head softly. Reverently.

You hum sleepily.

“Of course you would, Sy.”

_____

“You’ll be glad to know that the artifact you had your eye on back at the auction will be arriving this Wednesday.” 

“Huh? But I thought it was already sold to someone else?”

Sylus shrugs. “I made a counteroffer.” 

“You didn’t have to. I told you it was fine.” 

“I know. But I also recall a certain someone telling me how much they wished they had placed a bid on it on our way back,” he pinches your cheek fondly. “Don’t worry about it, kitten. It’s yours.”

“Oh. Well– thank you,” you yawn in response, leaning your head to rest against his palm.

His thumb strokes your cheek. “Anything for you.”

[demonic0angel]

Normal City spirit Danny except villain attacks are pretty much like horrific migraines or something for the poor dude. So basically he becomes Gotham's warning system. Like it takes a while for people to realize they've got their own mothman now except theirs is a white haired boy who looks like he's going through hell.

(At this rate, I should publish this lmaooo. A series of short events where Gotham Spirit City Danny watches over random Gothamites. It gets long 💀. Also, cw: kidnapping and physical violence towards a minor at the end)

Joel the gas station employee eyed the homeless looking teen that was across the store. Said teen was staring at a pack of yogurt covered pretzels, looking dazed as he just stared mindlessly.

Joel wanted to ask if he was actually alive, but decided not to, since this was Gotham and everyone was crazy.

He continued to count the coins in the tip jar, but out of the blue, he heard a voice.

“You should go to the back room.”

Joel looked up. “Sorry?”

The teen stared at him with bright blue eyes like glowing stars. In fact, he kind of looked like he belonged to the Waynes. But that wasn’t possible, because Joel didn’t recognize him at all.

Unless he was new? But surely not… Bruce Wayne usually gave some warning before. And this kid looked homeless.

“You should go to the back room,” the boy said again.

They stared at each other. Then Joel nodded stiffly and went. He wasn’t about to question the sudden order. Not in Gotham. But before he could leave entirely, the teen called out again, “I like your pin.”

Joel turned again slowly. “What?”

“I like your pin,” the boy said, pointing to the pin in Joel’s apron that said, ‘he/him motherfucker’ over a trans flag.

Joel blinked and then smiled. “Thanks!”

The boy gave a small smile back and waved a hand for him to shoo. Joel raised an eyebrow in exasperation but nodded and moved.

Just as he ducked behind the counter to move to the back room, there was a commotion and a sudden eruption of noise and gunshots nearby. It was clearly some sort of robbery, since there was a pretty successful bodega nearby that was run by an asshole. Several bullets hit the glass of the gas station window, striking exactly where Joel was standing just moments ago.

Joel’s jaw dropped.

When he looked back at the shelves, the kid was gone and so was the bag of pretzels. The perfect amount of pay was left on the counter. Extra tips included.

————

Lina stared at the boy who was sitting on the swing. However, he wasn’t swinging, just staring at the night sky.

When she looked up to see what he was looking at, she saw a surprisingly clear sky with sparkling stars. She watched in wonder for a moment before she looked away.

Lina wasn’t supposed to be outside right now, but her friend had told her that there was a cat that wandered around the playground at night. Lina had wanted to see it, so she snuck out. Now she kind of regretted it, being so cold while it was night. But since she was already out, she was determined to wait for the cat to come out.

“Mister,” Lina said, because her mom always told her to be polite, “Are you going to swing?”

The boy turned to her and then asked, “Want me to push you?”

Lina perked up and nodded. They switched places and the boy pushed her on the swing gently. He didn’t push her as high as he could’ve, but she didn’t mind. She was still waiting for the cat. Lina told the teen as such, and he smiled at her gently, freckles across his face glowing ever so slightly like stars whenever her flying shadow passed over his face.

“That’s nice, Lina. I’m sure it’ll come soon.”

And sure enough—

“Meow!”

“Kitty!” Lina called, and she jumped off the swing in her excitement. But before she could crash onto the ground, she was plucked from the air and gently deposited onto a flat surface. Lina turned to thank the boy, her heart pounding, but when she whirled around, he was gone.

She blinked. Where was he?

Something soft brushed against her legs and she looked down, where an orange tabby was rubbing against her ankles, mewing softly for attention.

She pet the cat for a little while. A feeling washed over her, like a gentle call from her mom to come home, and Lina said goodbye to the cat and turned back to the empty playground.

“Thank you, mister!” She called. She knew it was him who had brought the cat here. A feeling like fondness washed over her again and Lina skipped all the way back home. Her mom was still asleep and the TV was still playing, but things were good. Lina crawled into her mom’s arms and slept the entire night away, dreaming of cats and stars.

————

Elizabeth sighed as she tried to straighten her poor back. Ever since last year, her bones seemed to be feeling weaker and weaker by the day. She suddenly missed her husband, when he would’ve held her hand and they would’ve walked to wherever their hearts lead them together.

She clutched her cane and started moving again.

“Excuse me,” a voice called. “Do you need some help?”

She turned and stared at a young man. He looked scruffy and somewhat dubious, but Elizabeth had an excellent judge of character. In his eyes was a sort of kindness that she hadn’t seen in a long time.

She nodded. “Please. I’m trying to get to my doctor’s appointment.”

He tilted his head but reached out to steady her gently. Together, they walked slowly as he supported her. “Why not call for a taxi, ma’am?”

“It’s not dependable,” she said. “And I cannot get off or on easily. It’s easier to walk.”

That was a lie, but what could she do? She was too tired and too weak to call for a taxi and exit on and off of it by herself.

The young man nodded. “I see. Where’s your doctor appointment, ma’am?”

She pointed to the direction and together they walked. At first, it was pleasantly silent, but she eventually asked, “Tell me about yourself, son.”

The young man laughed lightly. “There’s not much to know. I’m just someone who’s trying to get by and help others.”

“That’s a good cause, sonny. This world could always use more kindness,” she patted his hand with her crooked fingers and he gave her a small and brilliant smile.

“I’m glad. I hope to make a difference every day.” She was focused on their feet as she tried to keep steady as to not inconvenience her helper. “Oh look,” he suddenly said, “we’re here.”

She looked up and true to his word, they were in front of the clinic she used for checkups. She blinked.

She was old, but surely she wasn’t old enough to hallucinate, was she? How on earth had they gotten here so fast?

She wasn’t able to question it as the young man led her inside. Elizabeth confirmed the appointment and she had expected him to leave once he had completed his task, but he stayed with her throughout. He sat down with her in the waiting room and they chatted about anything and everything under the sun.

Elizabeth had no children and no siblings. Her husband had died and her friends were also getting old. She was lonely, but this young man was accompanying her throughout the appointment and she felt endlessly grateful that Gotham City had not snuffed out another bright light just yet.

When she was called in, the young man still followed her inside and talked to her physician for her.

She was suddenly reminded of her father, who had died when she was 42. Her father had done everything he could to provide for her and her mother until he died from murder. She was starkly reminded of his protection and how she had mourned it when it was lost.

Elizabeth felt for the first time in a long time, like she was a young girl being protected by her father again.

When the appointment was over and Elizabeth was prescribed new medications, she was led outside by the young man again.

“Thank you so much, dear,” she said, a little teary eyed, “I appreciate the company and the help.”

The young man guided her to her apartment and said, “I’m just doing whatever I can as one person in this world. It’s the only thing I can do, y’know?”

They parted on good terms and it was only later as she sat in her home, that she realized that she had never asked for his name.

There was nothing to remember that kind young man by other than her waning memory and his act of kindness.

In her pocket, however, was a mysterious card for a free taxi service funded by Wayne Enterprises.

————

Tom and his friends were playing a game of heroes, with Red Hood as the hero and the other Bats as the villains. Tom was lucky enough to win the game of rock-paper-scissors and was Red Hood, valiant and brave with a pair of guns in order to protect Crime Alley.

“Alright, Batman!” Tom crowed. “This’s the end of the line for you!”

Maria, the only girl of the group, glared at him theatrically and flapped the ends of the jacket tied around her neck. “Red Hood, I’ll defeat you! For Justice!”

She waved her hand and their friends, who filled in the place of the other Bats, rushed at Tom with a war cry. Tom grinned and ran away from them with a loud laugh.

They passed through several alleys in their game of play, passing by no one but a boy with black hair and a girl with red hair. Tom didn’t really pay attention, just trying not to be tagged. But it didn’t matter, because no matter what, Red Hood was always able to get away and save the day!

Tom cheered as he pretended to shoot the Bats with his toy guns that he got for Christmas last year, and his friends all groaned and pretended to die dramatically. George, who was playing Red Robin, engaged in a fake battle with him as the others laughed and watched.

Tom was completely enthralled in their pretend play, when he suddenly froze with the sound of a car door being opened far too close and the sound of footsteps.

Oh no. Tom immediately grabbed at George and they were bolting down the streets they came from. They ran like their lives depended on it, because it quite literally did. But it was too late. Davis, one of the slower runners, was captured.

Tom turned and gasped at the sight of Davis struggling and kicking within the hold of a trafficker. “No! Get away from him!”

“Get the kids!” The man shouted as Davis screamed, and they all screamed as more men rushed into the alleys to grab them.

Tom screamed for Red Hood, Batman, anybody and popped off his fake guns. It did nothing but make loud sounds from the tiny amounts of gunpowder in it that Tom was saving. Still, he needed to do something. The sounds didn’t scare the men as they grabbed at him next.

Tom scratched and bit and struggled, but it was useless as he was hauled into the back of the van. Even as he knocked against the van’s door, making even louder noises to draw attention, it was hopeless as he was tossed inside. Jim, the smallest member of their group, was crying and Maria was knocked out, slumped next to a shuddering George. Alan and Davis were also captured and they were trembling.

There were also two other people, one with black hair and one with red hair. They seemed angry, and the teenage boy seemed especially cold while the young woman looked furious.

Tom glared at the traffickers. “You won’t get away with this! Red Hood is going to kill you!”

After all, Red Hood hated anyone who hurt kids. With him in Crime Alley, kids were now secure and safe under his protective wings.

Tom was immediately backhanded. He fell back, pain bursting from his cheek and he whimpered, tears in his eyes. Alan grabbed at him worriedly and pulled him away from the traffickers’ hands.

“Shut up, brat! Just wait and see! The Red Hood ain’t shit in these parts!” Then the door of the van closed. Tom and George lunged forward to bang on the door to no avail.

“Red Hood! Red Hood!! Help!”

As the van began to move, Tom choked back his tears. No, he couldn’t cry.

He was Red Hood for today. He was supposed to be brave.

Maria woke up then and started crying. The sound set off the other kids and Tom barely resisted crying too. Suddenly, the woman with red hair in the corner of the van opened up her arms. “Shh, shhh, come here.”

Realizing that there were adults in the situation, Jim and Maria went into her arms. She rubbed their heads and soothed them softly. Alan and George looked at her and the boy next to her with hope.

“Hey! Can’t you get us out?” George asked urgently.

The woman shook her head, but gave a small smile. “We’ll be okay. You just have to have hope.”

Tom bristled, scared for his life and irritated by the presence of other adults. His tears hadn’t fallen yet, but it was a very close thing. “So you don’t have anything? Figures.”

The boy spoke up, “Red Hood will come get you. You’ll be just fine.”

Tom looked down at the dirty floor of the van. How could he believe that now? He wanted to believe it, but what would he do if it was only false hope? If he and his friends got hurt, it would’ve been his fault because he was the one who led them too far away from home.

The boy gave a small smile, similar to the woman next to him. In fact, they were both weirdly comforting and familiar, like old family friends. He opened up his own arms and said, “Come here.”

Tom inched closer and leaned against him, as George and Alan also came closer. Davis squished himself between the two and all of them were being comforted by the two older people. Tom sniffed, and the teen started talking in a comforting tone, rubbing at his back.

“You’ll be okay. Close your eyes. When you wake up, Red Hood will be here to save you… that’s it. It’s alright, we’re here to protect you. Gotham City is on your side, little ones….”

When Tom snapped awake, he was shocked to find himself being held and carried by Red Hood. “Red Hood?!”

Tom startled, but the Red Hood just readjusted his grip and said, “Careful, kid. Your friends are over there.”

Tom leaned over Red Hood’s broad shoulders and looked for his friends. True to his words, they were next to Batman and the other Bats and Birds. Maria was being held by Batgirl and excitedly gesturing, while his other friends were chattering away to Batman, who was smiling.

Red Hood began to approach them.

“You did good,” Red Hood suddenly said. Tom looked up at him and the Red Hood tilted his helmet downwards at him. “You made a ruckus and got my attention. Good job.”

Tom looked guiltily down at his hands. “No… I was the one who led my friends too far… I got us captured.”

“It’s not your fault,” Red Hood said. “You’re not to blame because some sick ass— er, some sick jerks decided to take kids. You did good and that’s final.” He ruffled Tom’s hair.

Tom giggled and then nodded, chest warm. He couldn’t believe he was meeting his idol and was saved by him too! Then he asked, looking around for the woman with red hair and the other teen, “Where’re the other two?”

“Other two?” Red Hood asked curiously. “We only saw you six kids alone in the van.”

Tom paused for a moment and then shook his head. “Never mind. Musta been my imagination.”

Gotham City was a mysterious place. Who was Tom to question it?

However, he still silently thanked the two strangers. He was sure that they had been the ones to help them.

Some distance away, two spirits stood on the roof of a nearby building and watched the commotion.

“It’s a good thing we were able to find Jason in time, huh, Jazz?”

“Mhm. I’m glad those kids are going to be okay. Thank goodness the Bats responded in time.”

“Of course. With my protection and your help, we’ll help them save this city. So…. Meet up next week?”

“Yep! See you then, Danny!”

[letorip]

can u give us a summary of kiss with a fist 4 without spoiling?

lol... here's a spoiler

kiss with a fist [iv]

"you smashed a plate over my head, then I set fire to our bed"

===+++===

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: just as things begin to complicate even more between you and tara, her life becomes even more complicated

warnings: blood, angst, curse words, kissing, borderline sexual content

word count: 4.2k

A/N: i contemplated doing this in so many ways and i ended up thinking it was just funnier if i answered with the literal story. so... it was at least funny to me. it's shorter than normal, just because i didn't want to split up an action scene that'll take place next time, so expect a much longer part next time.

===+++===

===+++===

You didn’t like police stations very much, and you weren’t exactly doing a good job of keeping it hidden. Your knee bounced against the dusty linoleum in a quiet tapping noise, and although you yourself couldn’t hear it with the endless amount of phones ringing and shouting down the hall, Tara clearly could.

Her head rested on your shoulder, where you had slumped, and she placed a hand right upon your knee, stopping it from bouncing anymore. Her dark eyes looked up at you. “You’re making me even more nervous.”

“Sorry,” you rushed, quick to pull your knee away from her hand.

Tara frowned, looking back down to the tiling. “Of course this had to happen.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What do you mean?” She shrugged, and you had to nudge her gently. “Tara?”

“Nothing,” she murmured. "Just Sam's license and her getting attacked at the bodega... I wasn't there, (Y/n)."

"You couldn't have known," you said, frowning at her. "Everyone thought all the 'Stab' shit was over."

"Yeah," Tara scoffed. "Mindy always says lightning doesn't strike twice, but I'm starting to wonder if that's really true."

"Or maybe it's just a crazed copycat. There's no way of knowing it's actually after you yet."

"That's not what Sam'll say." She had an uncharacteristic look of defeat in her eyes that you hadn't seen before. Tara was a spitfire, even to Sam. But she looked beside herself, wallowing against the soft fabric of your jumper. "Sam'll say that Ghostface is back. That we need to leave."

"Maybe she's right," you shrug.

"Maybe," Tara said. "But I don't want to go. I don't want to leave. I want to live, but... if it's not him, I can't just keep living my life on the run from whoever's chasing me. That means Amber won."

"Amber?"

"Yeah... Amber. Amber Freeman. She was my, uh, girlfriend."

"Oh," you frown. Tara's dark eyes looked up at you, nervously watching your reaction.

"Yeah... and she was Ghostface."

"Oh," you repeated. Tara never spoke about her much, and neither had the rest of the core four, really. It had never really dawned on you to ask, just because it seemed important to Tara, and for the longest time, what was important to her wasn't important to you. "Are you still nursing that wound?" you asked.

She smiled, but it did not reach the corners of her eyes. "Sometimes. It feels weird since she almost killed me, but there are times I really miss her. Grief demands to be felt, and all."

"Even if it's a murderous psychopath?" you asked with a smile.

"Yeah," she snorted, turning her head on your shoulder. "Even if it's a murderous psychopath." Then, she grew serious. "We should probably talk about last night, right?"

You froze, swallowing what felt like a lump in your throat. "Uh, now?"

"Well, it's just, I kind of felt something... I don't know. I know we said this was fake and all, and I don't know if you have your eye on anyone else right now," Tara began to ramble, "so if you do, don't feel pressured to agree to anything. I know I kind of made a messy situation out of this, and I don't even know where to go--"

But she was interrupted by the door down the hall opening. It was loud enough that your attention was pulled towards it, and through it came a woman with a stack of files in her arm. She smiled warmly at Tara, walking right over, and Tara seemed to recognise her, sitting up in her chair.

The warmth on your chest where her head had been was gone in an instant, and you would have been lying if you said you hadn't selfishly begun to miss it.

"Tara, right?" the woman asked with a smile, and Tara nodded, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and an underlying suspicion. But the woman just gave her a gentle smile.

"Kirby," she said, extending her arm out for a handshake. "Kirby Reed. I used to go to high school with Sam, and now I'm with the FBI."

Your eyes widened. If the FBI were now involved with the case, it was definitely not a good sign. You felt Tara's hand go to yours, squeezing it. If you were to ask her about it, she'd likely say it was to calm the nervousness you hadn't been able to hide on your face, but you knew that it was to steady herself, if anything.

"FBI?" Tara asked. "So it's really him?"

Kirby frowned. "I'm hoping it's some copycat, but from what I've seen so far, I'm not too sure. Is Sam still back there being questioned?"

Tara nodded, grimacing. "Apparently, both of us are people of interest. Our roommate's dad is on the case."

"Well," Kirby said, "I'll see if I can help him." She turned to you. "And who's this?" she asked.

"Uh--" you started, but Tara shook her head, interrupting.

"--(Y/n) isn't involved," she glared, defending you with a ferocity in her voice.

Kirby gave you a look over. "Are you sure? I don't mean to disrespect either of you, but are you sure you can trust them, Tara? It's never who you expect."

Tara nods. "I know they're not Ghostface. (Y/n) wouldn't lie."

(Y/n) wouldn't lie. The sentence made you sick to your stomach. You could see Calvin in your mind, laughing at how you got yourself into this situation. Alisha would've found it funny, too. You swallowed, standing up from the chair. You smiled weakly at Tara. "It's okay, Tar. I'll go home... just let me know if you need to leave... for the... uh, arrangement, or whatever."

She nodded, mouth drawn into a line. "Yeah... see you later... Duck," she said, trying equally as hard to smile. You turned around, walking out.

===+++===

You had pretty much collapsed into bed, the moment you got home. It had been an exhausting few hours, what with finishing your model and then rushing with Tara to the police station. Your final class of the semester was later in the day, so you would take any sort of sleep you could get.

And the sleep you took, waking up a few hours later with mussed-up hair and a final to get over and done with. You grabbed the model and your backpack, heading for the train station, and finally checking your phone for the first time in a little while.

Little Shit (do not pick up): mindy wants everyone at the park later, after your final

Little Shit (do not pick up): good luck with that, btw

Little Shit (do not pick up): also we should still probably talk about last night i didn't get to finish earlier

You gave a thumbs-up to the first message, and quickly typed back a thanks, before tucking it into your pocket. The critique was boring, but you couldn't help but feel yourself swell with pride when your professor complimented the small amount of green space you had put within the actual walls of the building. It had been Tara's idea, and you reminded yourself to thank her later. Now all you had to do was go to Mindy's weird meeting, and you could begin your break.

The group was sitting on a group of benches near the green, with Mindy hovering over them, her arms crossed. When she saw you coming, she raised her eyebrow at you in suspicion. You rolled your eyes, coming to sit down next to where Tara had saved you a seat.

She sent you a small smile when you did, weaving your fingers together. You knew that to the group she was just doing it because you and Tara were allegedly a couple, but just to you it felt like so much more than that.

And it made you feel a little bit sick, again.

"How'd your final go?" she asked, and it made your heart stop for a moment, the way her warm brown eyes looked in the soft sunlight. You shrugged, but could not stop the smile spreading itself on your face.

"The professor liked your idea."

"Really?!" she asked, sounding super excited, and you nodded. "Well now who's silly, for telling me it was a bad idea?"

"Well because it is a silly idea, genuinely who would think of that."

"I would. It isn't silly, it's cool."

"I'm afraid cool doesn't always work, Tara."

"It did this time," she said smugly, sticking her tongue out at you. You rolled your eyes, knowing but not hating that she'd be gloating about it for weeks.

"Lovebirds, cut the chit-chat," Mindy shot, glaring in your direction, and Tara huffed in annoyance but begrudgingly turned towards her. "Now, as terrifying as it all is, I’m actually glad I get a chance to redeem myself for not calling the killers last time."

"Mindy," Sam chided, arms crossed over her chest.

"Right, sorry," she said. "The way I see it, someone’s out to make a sequel to the requel."

"What’s a requel?" Anika asked, leaning forward as if trying to understand her girlfriend's antics. You didn't know either.

"You’re beautiful, sweetie, but let’s hold questions to the end," Mindy teased.

From next to you, Tara looked more worried. "Stab 1 took place in Woodsboro, but Stab 2 took place in college…"

Sam tensed. "So you think the killer’s copying the second movie?"

"Like a homage!" Chad suggested, looking proud of himself. The rest of the group shot him a look. "What? You all I know took French, it should not be a surprise that I know that word."

"Just a little bit," Tara teased. He sent her a small smile, one that you knew came from his massive crush on her. It only made you feel a bit worse about the both of you.

"That’s one possibility," Mindy said, nodding at the suggestion. "Heroes now in college? Check. Suspicious new characters brought in to round out the suspect list and/or body count?" she looked at you, Ethan, Quinn, and Anika. "Check, check, check, and check."

"I really don't like this," Ethan said.

"But it can’t only be about Stab 2," Mindy continued. Tara's eyebrows furrowed.

"Why not?" she asked.

Mindy had a glint in her eye. "It would make sense if this were just a sequel. But we’re not in a sequel, because nobody just makes sequels anymore."

"So what is it?" you asked, deciding to bite on her theory.

"We’re in a franchise. And there are certain rules to a continuing franchise," she replied.

Sam sighed. "I had a feeling."

But Mindy wasn't deterred. "Now, rule one: everything is bigger than last time. Bigger budget, bigger cast, bigger body count; longer chases, shoot-outs, beheadings- you gotta top what came before to keep people coming back."

"Beheadings?" Chad asked, taking notes.

Next to him, Ethan looked rather lost. Quinn and Anika looked just as confused. You were glad you weren't the only one lacking a real understanding of how the core four operated. They had earned a right to be a little nuts after surviving Woodsboro, that you knew. But the whole thing seemed a bit conspiratorial.

"Rule Two, whatever happened before, expect the opposite. Franchises only survive by subverting expectations; if the killers last time were whiny snowflake film nerds with Letterboxd accounts instead of personalities, you can bet the opposite will be true here." It was hard to absorb these things laid out as facts, and you struggled to follow Mindy's train of thought, sending Anika a wary glance. She just shrugged.

Tara noticed your confusion, sending a small squeeze to your hand and mouthing the word 'later.' You nodded, turning your attention back to Mindy, attempting to do your best to listen.

"And Rule Three, no one is safe. Legacy characters are cannon fodder at this point, usually brought back only to be killed off in some cheap bid for nostalgia. Sidney’s smart to sit this one out, but it’s not looking too good for Gale and Kirby. And that’s not even the worst part."

"There's a worst part?" You asked. Mindy nodded, smirking.

"The worst part is franchises are just continuing episodic instalments designed to boost an IP, which means the main characters are completely expendable now too. Laurie Strode, Nancy Thompson, Ellen Ripley, Jigsaw, Tony Stark, James Bond, even Luke Skywalker all died so their franchises could live on. That means it’s not just the friend group, any of us could go at any time, especially Sam and Tara."

You sent Tara a wary look at the suggestion, leaning harder against her. She tried to send you a small smile to comfort you, but it did little to stop the thought coming to your mind. You were cursed, that much was true from the sheer amount of grief that seemed to permeate around your family. It was a bad idea, to get so close to Tara, and that you knew. But it didn't stop the fact that you had a near electric desire to do so whenever she was nearby.

"Wait, any of us? Am I in the friend group?" Ethan asked, beginning to panic. "Am I one of the targets? Am I gonna die a virgin?"

"Um," Mindy started, blinking. "Weird overshare, but at least that brings us to our current suspects." Her gaze steeled over.

"Ethan. The shy dorky guy who no one suspects, because he’s so shy and dorky." Next to him, Chad shot him a more assessing glance.

"Why am I on the list? Because I’m randomly Chad’s roommate?!" Ethan asked, raising his voice.

"Roommate lotteries can be juked, you could have fixed it to get next to us," Mindy shot back, crossing her arms in increased suspicion. She turned to Quinn. "Quinn. The slutty roommate. A horror movie classic."

"Sex positive," Quinn corrected, "but thank you."

"And how did you come to live with Sam and Tara?" Mindy asked, narrowing her eyes.

"I answered their ad online--" Quinn started, and Mindy scoffed, raising her hand up.

"Say no more, you’ve already implicated yourself enough. 'Ad online,' good lord."

"Mindy, it was an anonymous ad, and you know we vetted her, plus her Dad’s a cop," Tara interjected.

"Tara, Tara, Tara," Mindy said, shaking her head. "Cop Dad? That's a great cover. Don't you get that's how these movies would work? Speaking of, while we're on Tara," she continued, turning to you.

"Hi," you said.

"Hi (Y/n)," she replied, smiling. It dropped to a frown. Tara's grip on your hand tightened. "(Y/n). The enemies-to-lovers, quippy 'annoyance' one of our main characters has incredible sexual tension with."

"Ew," Sam shuddered.

"Ew indeed," Mindy agreed. "Never trust the love interest." She looked over to Anika, who was smiling at her girlfriend. "Ever." Anika's face fell.

"Okay. So we’ve got our rules, and we’ve got our suspects," Sam huffed.

"Wait- what about the rest of you?" Ethan interrupted.

"I mean, I think it’s safe to rule out the four of us who went through this last year in Woodsboro," Mindy shrugged.

"Agreed," Chad nods.

"Um, not agreed. Maybe the trauma of what you went through caused one or more of you to snap," Quinn suggested, playing with the nail polish on her fingers.

"Or the fame you got from the killings made you thirsty for more! Ethan jumped in again. "And, let’s be honest, some of those theories online about Sam are--"

Tara sends him a death glare. "Don'y you fucking dare finish that sentence."

"He’s right, though. Face facts. If we’re all suspects? You’re all suspects," Anika shrugs.

You sent a wary look around at everyone and then another look back down to Tara, wondering which one would hurt her, and just how you'd be able to stop it.

===+++===

That night was the first night in a while nothing was expected of you, but you couldn't find it in yourself to actually relax. Mindy's monologue about how royally bloody fucked everything was now that Ghostface was officially back had set you a bit on edge, and part of you couldn't help but blame yourself.

You had thought the curse would get left behind in Nebraska, when you left, but it seemed maybe you had taken it with you, packed with your belongings. Maybe it was now affecting the person you had wished to protect from any harm. It still felt miraculous, just how Tara had wormed her way from your shit list to deep within your heart. Maybe that was the curse. Someone who could make you so annoyed could also make you feel like your heart was skipping beats.

You coped with the extreme worrying through a cooked meal and TV binge, flopping down on the couch and turning your ringer on, in case you were needed. You knew that Sam and Tara were likely preparing for the worst, and you also knew that you had been included on the list of suspects.

Maybe none of them rightfully believed you had it in you, but you also knew that even being a possibility meant that the core four had to keep you at arm's length for a while.

Or, at least, that's what you figured they'd do.

Right as the episode you were watching began to roll credits, you heard a hard knock on the door, freezing. Mindy had said something in a text, telling you to be cautious of opening doors when no one was scheduled to come over. You shot a wary look to your magnetic strip of knives, hanging over the hotplate. If you were just fast enough, maybe you could grab a knife or two, if Ghostface busted the door in. There was usually a phone call, wasn't there? Then why--

"(Y/n)?" Tara called, giving a hard knock. You felt your cheeks flush. Oh. You dashed to the door, not wanting to leave her on the step for too long.

When you opened it, you could see that Tara's own cheeks were flushed, and her chest was rising and falling rapidly.

"Did you run here???" you asked, raising your eyebrows.

"Uh...maybe," Tara said, suddenly finding the hallway outside of your flat much more interesting.

"I thought Sam would have you under lock and key," you teased.

"I snuck out..." Tara said, cheeks flushing again, but this time not from the run.

"Oh, so I'm harbouring a criminal?" you joked. Tara rolled her eyes, groaning.

"Can I just come in?"

"Do you trust me to do that?" you asked, curious. "I understand if you say no, believe me I get it. If I had been attacked or anything, especially by my girlfriend, I wouldn't trust anyone for a long time..."

Tara watched you ramble speak, eyes wide and dark and beautiful in the dim hall light. "I trust you... and I, uh, want some small amount of normalcy, like it was at the lab. Before everything got so weird, you know?"

You nodded, stepping aside for her to enter and then freezing. "Wait, Tara, what happened to your hand?"

You hadn't noticed until now, but her knuckles on the other hand had been bruising a dusty purple colour, still red at the edges. You let the door shut behind you, turning to her hand and holding it up in the lamplight of your hall. "What happened?" you asked, eyebrows furrowing in worry.

Tara's cheeks flushed again. "I punched a bitch," she said flatly. Your eyes widened even more, and Tara was quick to shake her head. "Just Gale Weathers. She wrote, uh, a whole book on Woodsboro. Called Sam a bunch of bad stuff. She actually was outside the station with the news and stuff when Sam was questioned earlier today... so I punched her."

You snorted. "Judging by your hand you definitely got her."

"Oh absolutely," Tara scoffed, as if she was offended by a possibility that she hadn't.

"You should probably ice it," you said with a wince, looking at the bruised skin. She scoffed again.

"What're you, a doctor?"

You shrugged, leading her into your kitchen. "I was going to be."

"Oh," Tara hummed.

"Yeah... took one introductory class and realised I hated it. It sucks too, because I gave my parents this whole speech about how I wanted to be a doctor because of our family, and I dropped the profession about a month or two later afterwards."

"Is that why you and your dad don't talk much?" she asked. "Is he a doctor?"

"No," you said, shaking your head. It was an amusing suggestion. "About as far as you could get from it, actually. But no, it isn't why we don't really talk." You didn't say any more on the subject, even though you could tell that Tara was curious. "We should really get you iced up, your hand is swollen, I can't believe you didn't show me this earlier."

She rolled her eyes. "You're acting like my parent again."

"I'm just worried about you, Tara," you said, shooting her a meaningful look. She was staring up at you with those damn eyes again like you held her heart in your hands. "I mean, come on, let's just put a bag of ice on it or something, or--"

But before you could finish what you were suggesting, Tara interrupted you, throwing her arms around your neck and standing up on her toes. "Is this okay?" she whispered, voice low. It flooded your ears and squeezed the air from your lungs, just how close her lips were from yours.

You can't help the small nod, or the way you're probably dumbly staring at her mouth right now, but her eyes are warm and inviting, and your hands find their way to her waist, palming at the exposed skin of her cropped shirt with your thumbs. "I've, uh, kind of wanted to do this for weeks," Tara admits with a small grin. The words spin around and around in your mind like you're on some carousel of thought.

If you could have formed words, you would have told her the truth: you had wanted to kiss her since she walked in the room and you saw her for the first time. But you can't. So instead, you crash your lips onto hers.

Tara doesn't hesitate even a little bit, wrapping her arms around your neck and falling off her toes as she kisses you back with fervour. You follow her down, working your lips against hers as her hands give up on your neck and instead move to spread themselves out on the warm apples of your cheeks.

You're taken over by some other, hungry entity entirely, and you lift Tara up onto the kitchen counter, into the exact same place she was sitting when she asked you for help with this stupid scheme. It doesn't matter now, you're too lost in her lips. You feel her tongue push past and into your mouth, and her hands travel up your back to spread out against the back of your shirt and pull you against her.

You can't help the groan that escapes your mouth, and you feel Tara's teasing smile against your lips as she breathes in your smell. Your hands are still on her waist, sliding up so that your thumbs gently brush against the bottom of her bra. She shudders at the sensation, opening her mouth wider, and you can taste the lingering cherry of her chapstick on her lips.

Neither of you is especially sure how long you stay there, but when you finally have to pull away, you're scrambling for air. You lazily let your forehead rest against hers, catching your breath and struggling to stay on your feet. Tara lets her hands wander from your back into your hair, exploring the planes of your body for the first time, and you can't stop the small comment that worms its way from your mouth after.

"Exploring the merchandise?" you ask with a teasing, breathless laugh. Tara shakes her head, finally opening her eyes and looking up at you with that same damn beautiful look.

"You should come stay with me and the others. It's safer that way," she says, becoming worried again. Her hands rest on your cheeks and she kisses you again, softer, but just as meaningful.

You painfully have to shake your head. "I can't, you know that."

"I won't be mad if you leave town," she says. "I won't hold it against you."

You smile. "I'm not leaving. I'm not going anywhere, Tara."

She nods, processing it, before crashing her lips back onto yours and tugging at the bottom of your shirt, but you catch her hands before she can tug it over your head. "No, Tara- Tara wait."

"I want you," she says.

"I know, but we should wait," you say, hands on the side of her thighs. "Wait until it's over. Right now, Ghostface is more important."

"He gets everything, (Y/n). I just want this. I want you. I know we did this whole thing about fake dating, and I know it wasn't real, but I realise that I want it to be. I just want you."

There's a burning in your stomach, burning for her, and you pull her in for another kiss. Only to be stopped by the sound of your door creaking open.

You freeze and so does Tara at the noise. "(Y/n)?" she asks, trembling. "Did you lock your front door?"

===+++===

DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN catch you all next time for a big ole action sequence and a whole bunch of drama

[moondirti]

animalic (3)

← chapter two // series masterlist

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader rating: mature word count: 2.2k summary: he's got a plan that neither of you like warnings: enemies to lovers, predator/prey dynamics, biting, bondage, temporary paralysis, concussions, miguel is not nice, no use of y/n notes: this was supposed to be longer but the cut off at the original point was super awkward. this chapter is super exciting for all you fang lovers out there

You really can’t catch a break. 

The city bustles with a verve rivalling your own, a kaleidoscope of luminescence dancing upon the glass facades of its skyscrapers. Their spires pierce the ink-dark cloak of night, and if you weren’t so busy running for your life, you’d stop to admire the way their aviation obstruction lights mimic the stars back home. 

(Everything has a trade off, you suppose. You remember what it was like as light pollution gave away to reveal the cosmos above, the beauty of it lost upon your own grief.)

Now, it’s fear – clinging like a shadowy spectre to your heels. The pavement is unforgiving beneath you, each step sending a jolt of energy through your bones. Despite it, you can’t go any faster. Sidewalks crowd with the humdrum of everyday life – people filtering out from work and bodegas, dressed in a slightly odd fashion, their clothes a reminder of your unfamiliar landscape. Car horns blend into one another, providing an unsteady tempo to the race of your heart. 

It’s disorienting, all of it. Times like these, you wish you’d been given the opportunity to hone your abilities. Stamina, flexibility. Web shooters in particular would have proved handy in avoiding the bustle of the ground. 

Of course, he has that advantage on you too. 

You can’t see Miguel, but you sense his proximity. It prods you, nipping at your flesh in a constant assault, intensifying goosebumps and raising hairs. Your spider sense usually doesn’t last this long, solely serving as a warning for immediate danger. Yet that’s just what he is, immediate. Dangerous. Predatory eyes track your every move, sourced from all directions. He’s everywhere; atop buildings, within alleys. Neon signs morph into twisted apparitions; serrated talons, red skulls. 

How did he track you down so fast? 

The day pass? 

You wonder if he’d brought back-up – whether there are other spider-heroes here who trust in his noble cause. Your anxiety triples, and passerby’s begin to warp too. Their hurried footsteps now strike discordant notes, amplifying your isolation. You think you see some tense their wrists, or unbutton their coats, ready to reveal their tailored suits and ensure the capture you’ve managed to evade thus far. 

It’s luck. It’s only ever been luck, and that fact changes depending on who you ask. You’ve never outsmarted him, never disabled him. You just so happen to have the power of being a pain in his ass. 

Something itches at you, though. A nagging sense of foreboding. His presence in the past has spurred chagrin, annoyance, and – admittedly – arousal. But the genuine terror that lights your nerves now is new. Perhaps because you understand him, are far more familiar with his pride than most. The logical part of you can predict that he won’t let you off so easily, not after your stunt with the kiss. You won’t – can’t – get away this time, even if it damn well nearly kills him. 

Any hope you had of a bargain dissipates, rolling back from shore and into the depths of an elusive sea. You jerk the rubber band off your wrist, throwing it into some undisclosed corner.

In a then desperate bid to throw him off, your path loses cohesion. Like a leaf seized by a tempest, you turn based on split-second instinct, weaving through the labyrinth of New York’s grid. Your body sways in frenzy, bolstered by pure adrenaline, which works to dim everything else. Your ribs haven’t fully healed yet – they’d taken a pretty bad beating upon your last fight with Miguel – but you can barely feel the ache as you focus purely on the task at hand. 

Your determination surges, recklessness taking hold of your rationale. Veering abruptly, you just about collide with the racing line of cars that flow at a green light. In fact, you think you do. Your skin prickles, and a taxi runs straight through you, blearing a loud honk all the while. Some vehicles break off, drifting around your form at the last minute. In your peripheral, you can see the glowing red of your pursuers web, stretched across the gap between two apartment complexes. 

Chest tightening, your breathing loses depth at the sight, shallowing to leave room for the distress that torrents up your system. You clamber up on the hoods of parked cars, using a mast arm pole to propel yourself forward. It’s a fruitless effort. You know it’s too late – have known it since he walked into that convenience, prowling in search of one thing. 

(A lion only catches its prey a quarter of the time. But that twenty-five percent?)

Your ankle is the first victim to his hardwearing web, wrapped in the silk and pulled out from underneath you. The back of your head smacks into the concrete below, a high pitched ring reverberating through your skull upon impact. The collision sends a shock wave of pain throughout your being, and in that harrowing moment, everything stutters to a crawl. Spots speckle behind your clenched eyelids, metallic warmth flooding your mouth.

Well, fuck. 

To add insult to injury, your atoms rip apart and splice into one another, a consequence of your abandoned day pass. The glitch aggravates the headache that begins to pound at you. You’d allowed yourself to forget how bad it could be. 

The willpower that had just played a forefront in your mind steadily starts to trickle out, absorbed by your humiliation and the ground below. 

“You really gonna give up that easily?” 

Yes. 

You make a point to never lie to yourself. In truth, you won’t ever get enough of Miguel’s cadence. Deep and resonant – it smoulders with a charred ruggedness. Commanding attention, rumbling like distant thunder, an unmistakable authority woven into each word. Yet, even amidst the rough contours, there lingers a softness, a subtle grace that soothes the edges of his threats. 

(Sharp claws, sharp teeth, sharp cheekbones. Soft voice.)

More webs bind you, erupting from an unclear point to circle your legs, chest, and secure your arms behind your back. You’re diminished to little more than an aggravated caterpillar, ensnared in a spider’s web. And, just as his little game of bondage draws to a close, said spider stalks within view, splitting through the crowd that quickly forms around the commotion. 

With his mask on, he stands as completely impenetrable. You, on the other hand, try to reduce your quivering the best you can, afraid of relaying how truly pathetic you feel. 

“Maybe I’m biding my time.” You bite back, calling on a complete bluff. “I’m sure you know how good I am at that?” It’s a low blow. Even if you could control when and where to phase out, you wouldn’t get very far before he catches up to you again. 

But Miguel doesn’t waver in his closing in – not until he towers over you, looking down at your incapacitated state. Space buckles under the gravity of his existence; you, too, can feel yourself sinking, drawn in closer by the credence that bubbles off him in flares. You wish you had a cover – your pair of makeshift goggles, a face mask, anything that could elevate you to a degree relative to his. But you’re bare, figuratively naked, and you’ve never hated him more. 

He lingers, assessing you, weighing his options. The moment he turns to survey the mass of people who look on inquisitively, you wiggle upward into a sitting position, then throw your head forwards, aiming for his crotch. His wrist gets in the way, though, blocking your pitiful attack on his only defenceless area. Your forehead cracks against his dimensional travel watch, shattering its screen. 

“Tu puta madre!” Miguel hisses, snapping back to survey the gadget while you begin to slink away. He seems to have an eye on you, however, because you’re tugged back just as soon as you make the effort.

Like a naughty cat. You shift uncomfortably at the thought. 

“Are you gonna spend all night deciding what to do with me, then? I have plans, even if you don’t.” 

“Plans. I have plans alright.” The low timbre of his threat slices you where it hurts.

With a calculated flex of his shoulders, he crouches down, gathering the webs around your arms. They serve as leverage when he hauls you upward, exercising his muscles – of which you’d suspected had been padding up to this point – with one swift motion. The world upends on itself, nausea enveloping your senses with its oppressive weight. It allows space for little else; not the uncertainty, not the trepidation. You divert all your efforts on keeping your scarce lunch down, accepting the possibility of a concussion by product of his less-than-refined manhandling. 

The journey to wherever he takes you is not at all long enough for you to recover. Before you know it, he’s busting through the creaky door of an empty storelot, carelessly tossing you to the floor. Your vision doubles. 

Yeah. Definitely a concussion. 

Like you could afford one right now. 

“You’ll stay, and you’ll listen.” He points an accusatory finger. 

“Sure. Until I’ve had enough, that is.” 

“And where would you go, exactly?” 

“Nice try, O’hara. Like I’d tell you,” Snickering, you let your head roll to face the ceiling. The action sends you back to earlier, to the robbery you’ve been seeking to suppress. How careless you’d been, letting your fortune to date trick you into thinking that any collateral was safe too. You’d killed that woman. You. “Maybe I’ll fall right through the floor. That way, you’ll never have to worry about seeing me again.” 

The notion makes him pause mid-pace, hands on his hips, tilting his head to look at you with what you imagine is the most earnest glare. The air bobs, suspended in static tension, a crackling constant that only unravels once he seems to make up his mind. 

Marching forward, he drags you along with him to a nearby wall, upon which he then pushes you upward until you have to look down to meet his eyeline. Your bound legs kick forward, but the struggle hardly affects him. 

“I didn’t want to resort to this.” 

You assume he means treating you like a toddler does its shiny new toy, hurling you across this playpen of a city. “You really didn’t have to, then.” 

He stays quiet, fists clenching tighter around you. 

“I suppose we’re past the courtesy of letting the other recover from the last fight before starting a new one? My forearm is still fucked, thanks to you. Maybe if you’d given it some time, I would’ve proved more of a challenge today.” Your words, whilst never your most steadfast allies, betray you in lieu of this restlessness, tumbling forth with unruly incoherence.

Miguel's mask pulls back, the nanotech collapsing to just above his adams apple. Your mouth moves faster. 

“Okay, I get it. The fate of the multiverse and all that. I’ll listen, whatever you want, but at least try and make the lecture original.” 

His hand cups your jaw, tightening around your chin to firmly guide it upwards. Your throat stretches taut at the motion, its smooth expanse spread across the wall – an evening repast for a party of one. The imagery breaks down an all too sobering realisation into fragments small enough for you to register. His talons rest against your cheek, bordering perilously close to your waterline. 

Traces of that patchouli aftershave hit you. His skin looks especially bronzed in the dark, highlighted at the edges from the phosphorescence outside. His curls droop where they’re plastered to a sweat slicked hairline. 

You can’t help it. Your gaze flickers down to those plush lips.

Fuck. Fuck. It’d felt so good to kiss them. 

Please let this just be a kiss. 

“O-Or go with the… the usual, y’know. I don’t–” 

Miguel lunges, sinking his fangs into the fleshy sinew of your neck.

Christ.

Your jaw hangs open, but no breaths filter in. Shock wedges itself at the site of his bite, implacable, steadfast as a barrier between logic and uninhibited emotion. Your reasoning plays no part in this, provides absolutely no valuable contribution to the series of reactions you undergo. 

It’s physical, first. The cold slither of paralytic venom distends through your nerves, neurotoxins striking their functions, rendering them useless beyond the point of sensation. Which, you’d say, is the cruellest part. Miguel’s poison doesn’t stop you from feeling anything; not the puncture, nor the burn. You can truly feel it, trekking its graceful path to all muscles in your body, taking hold of the tissue, suppressing their vitality. Your back arches, your body doing its very best to fight what it cannot prevent. It cracks up your bone, down your spine. Your toes unfurl, fingers loosening to hang lamely at your side. 

And, when you lose all executive authority over yourself, you’re pulled in to centre on his mouth again. His canines slowly retract, tongue taking their place. It’s warm – so fucking warm – and dextrous, covertly lathering the blood that beads down your nape. 

Your last proper breath is wasted on a whine; a loud, keening, absolutely wanton whine. After it, you can do nothing but hold your flat inhales to cycle in as much oxygen as possible – diaphragm weak, your resolve weaker.

Miguel draws away, letting you slump to the floor, heavy and just as useless as a sack of flour. He wipes the excess carmine from his chin, kneeling to regard your glassy eyed stare. 

“Fall through now, and you’re as good as dead.” 

(You might as well already be.)

chapter four →

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[everythingmp3]

pretty stranger

adult!Van x fem!reader

it’s the middle of the night and you find yourself in some trouble. lucky for you, someone who finds you is feeling generous. what starts out as politeness and concern, quickly turns into something else.

authors note: I am back with more adult Van bc I missed her <3 this one is a bit longer again (around 5k) - I wrote it spontaneously and ended up having fun with it, so I hope you enjoy!

warnings : intoxication, brief mentions of injury, smut (reader giving), minors dni

it was around 11 pm. you were outside of the club. and you were bleeding.

on your way up the stairs of the venue, youd taken an unelegant stumble and fallen down, scraping your right forearm pretty badly. you couldn’t be bothered to go all the way back down to go and try and get a paper towel to clean your wound with, so you stood outside by the wall and tried to figure out what to do about it. you were cursing under your breath and trying to gauge how bad the injury actually was, so you didn’t notice that someone was approaching you.

to your luck, Van, who lived a few houses down from the club, was on her way home from a late night trip to the bodega around the corner, when she walked down the street and saw you. she wasnt usually the type to initiate conversations with strangers, unless they were customers, but when she saw that you were entirely on your own and wounded, she couldn’t just pass you by. “hey, you okay there?” you heard her ask and snapped your head around, only then realizing how drunk you were. you weren’t black out by any means but the sudden movement made you feel sick for a moment.

“oh, yeah, it’s fine, it’s just.. do you have a tissue or something by chance?” you asked. she stepped closer and took a look at your arm, a sympathetic look on her face, which you noticed was very striking: her freckled cheeks pink from the cold, a few scars that gave her an edge, a nice contrast. “no sorry, I don’t. but that looks painful, I’m sorry.” she paused for a second, before adding “I mean… I live literally right over there, so if you want you could clean that up and I could give you a band-aid”.

“oh, okay yeah! that’s really nice of you, thank you”you were overly grateful to her, perhaps because you were slightly out of it and hadn’t had the best night and felt like she was kind of a guardian angel in that moment. Van noticed it and waved it off, a smile “oh it’s fine, really, come on”.

you almost fell over again when you started walking too fast, which made Van laugh and rush back over to you. “okay hold up, easy there, no need to add any more scratches” she held out her arm for you to hold onto, which you did, gladly, gripping the soft material of her jacket.

“god...” you sighed, shaking your head, a bit embarrassed as she led you down the street. “not to be judgy but how many drinks did you have exactly?”. she asked, looking at you, trying to get a good read on your level of intoxication, a hint of a grin.

“I don’t know..” you admitted, which made her laugh. “okay damn, so you lost count?��, “something like that. finsihed the half empty ones of friends all night". "and where are they? why aren’t they with you?" she asked, a bit concerned by the idea of you hanging around people whod let you go home like that on your own.

"oh, I lost them. couldn’t find any of them after a while, so I decided to leave. wasn’t my kind of place anyway.." Van nodded, wondering if she was reading the subtext there right, because she knew that that bar on her block was about as far from a gay bar as a venue could be; she usually only saw frat and sorrorrity tpyes your age hanging around outside at night, so you were a surprise. "how are you gonna get home?" Van asked while unlocking the door to her store.

"uh, the train, I live kinda far from here". she motioned for you to go in ahead of her and closed the door behind you. "huh? in the middle of the night in this state? no way. sorry but I will call you an Uber or something, there’s no way I am letting you do that."

you smiled then, it was sweet, for a stranger to be that concerned. "okay, yeah. that’s wiser probably" you admitted, while registering your surroundings, she lead you through her dark store. "what’s all this?" you asked, unsure what you were looking at. "uh, a video store, for the most part" she said, plainly, aware that it might invite ridicule but to her relief you just said, "cool" and kept following her.

"okay, I am sorry, but we have to walk up some stairs. I will go behind you, go slowly" she instructed. "I won’t fall, I promise" you said "I already feel better". she was skeptical, "we’ll see about that."

you took the first few steps and felt a sudden rush of heat when Van placed her hand on your lower back to steady you on your walk up, unsure if she would have done that for just anyone or if she might feel some type of way about you. your physique.

you almost walked slower on purpose to have her touch you for longer.

when you were upstairs, she turned on the light and said "okay, so, you go on and sit down on the couch, I will get the stuff we need" before disappearing into the bathroom.

you were still slightly dizzy but lucid enough to take a good look around her living room and open kitchen, a coziness to it that soothed you, felt inviting. once you sat down on the couch, you realized that you were inside the home of a woman who was clearly gay and also clearly your type, so you told yourself to get a grip and sit more upright, to look as normal and appealing as possible.

Van returned a moment after and sat down next to you, asking you to hold out your arm and keep it still. "this might hurt like hell so feel free to grip my shoulder or whatever". you’d take any excuse to touch her, so you did, holding onto her, as she used a wetted tissue to clean your wound a bit before deliberately placing a bandaid over it, smoothing it out, taking a good look at it, before she said "alright. done. easy. you didn’t even wince, youre a tough one huh?" she praised, as she got up to throw away the tissue, which made you feel blood rush to your face. "sure, or you’re just good at that" you said, a bit bold from the state of half-drunkenness that you were still in, which made her smile. her back turned to you, so you weren’t aware.

Van took a can of soda from the fridge and popped it open, so she could hand it to you once she sat back down again. you felt spoiled in a way, being treated that nicely for no reason. or maybe, there was a reason.

you drank a good amount and put it down on the coffee table after, letting out a deep shuddering breath and leaning back against the cushions. Van was watching you intently, her head resting on her hand, her arm propped up on her side of the couch.

"yeah you should sober up a bit before going back outside I think" she mused, smiling at you. you looked at her then, "well I don’t wanna keep you up. surely having some sloppy drunk girl sitting on your couch wasnt your plan for the night".

that made her laugh, "oh it’s okay, I don’t mind a surprise, my week wasn’t very eventful". you had a feeling that she didn’t want you to leave too soon. that you werent alone in your feeling of intrigue, so you shifted your body a bit to look at her more directly, to challenge her in a way, her deep blue eyes never moving away from yours.

"so, a video store? how’s that?" you asked, trying to figure her out. "well" she said, considering it, staring off into the distance before responding "bad for my bank account." which made you laugh.

"oh, right, so should I paypal you for this maybe?" you asked, gesturing at your arm and the drink on the table, which made her give you a look that said “oh okay, you’re not shy, are you?” impressed by the boldness of your teasing. "well you don’t exactly strike me as rich either, so. keep it" Van teased back, which you liked, her joining on it, opening the door to more of the same vibe.

"maybe I should come back here sometime during the day, to see if you have some of my favorites. if you actually have good taste" you said, grinning, leaning your head back for a moment, still not breaking eye contact, which was getting to her, your mix of sweetness and audacity. Van nodded, eyeing you for a second before answering "sure, feel free to do that." unwilling to admit that she hoped you werent joking. that youd actually show up.

there was a shared silence then, until you sat more upright again and looked at her more intensely. "you’re very pretty." you said, quiet, earnest, hitting her with a sudden open flirting that she wasnt expecting.

Van tried to act unfazed, tried to keep it from going there, but she was blushing. she shook her head "I don’t think you should be trusting your vision right now".

you disagreed, still staring at her, your eyes roaming over her facial features in a way that made her shift her posture, trying to put up a tough front. failing to do so.

"I am tipsy, not blind. your lips wouldn’t look any different if I was sober". it was shameless, you mentioning a specific part of her, amditting that that was what you were focused on: her mouth.

Van stared at you with a mix of shock and intrigue. "okay. easy."

she tried to act like she wanted you to back off. but her body betrayed her. she didn’t move away one inch when you moved closer to her and put your hand on her thigh. you were bolder than usual, you knew this, and it felt good, to go for what you wanted. to see someone react that strongly. you were shoulder to shoulder with her then, thigh to thigh, close enough to feel her body warmth.

"do you wanna kiss me?" you asked, yet another hit at her soft spot for women who took initiative. it was wild to her that someone half her age wasn’t waiting for her to make a move but making one on her. it was turning her on. as much as she wished it didn’t.

"doesn’t matter what I want, you’re too young." she said, pleading with you in a way as she felt you move your hand up to her neck.

"yes or no?" you asked, ignoring her remark, close enough for her to feel your breath hot against her lips then, her ability for restraint leaving her more and more each second she felt you that close. a burn where your fingers lingered on her skin.

"are you interrogating me?" she asked, messing up and looking at your lips. you waited. didn’t answer. sensing that she was close to giving in.

"should I stop?" you asked, giving her a chance to end it if she really wanted to, because you’d have backed off at the sound of a "yes" but it wouldn’t come. you both knew.

she looked back up at your eyes then. she was done being the weaker link, so she played your game too and touched your cheek. it made you melt immediately. she had you. good. so, Van used the moment to catch you off guard and leaned in to kiss you. a sudden moan from you because she went into it full force, a deep, heartfelt kiss, no warming up, no pulling away and waiting for a response, an immediate fire to it.

you had no issue matching her energy, at all, you pushed your hands into her hair and pulled her face closer, as close as possible, to deepen the kiss, both of you moving to be entwined, her leg between yours, a low sound stuck in her throat as you touched tongues, started making out with abandon.

there was a delicious, surreal feeling to it, due to the leftover effect of the drinks, that glowing, intense euphoria that was easily achieved during a drunken night.

Van was almost shocked by how desperately you kissed and kissed and kissed her, seemingly obsessed with her, pushing her back against the couch after a while, pressing your chest against hers as your hips involuntarily jerked forward, a shared echo of sighs and whines as you kept kissing, her hands under your shirt then, a thrill, her palms on your bare skin, holding you.

you moved to kiss her neck then, unaware that that was her weak spot, but quickly figuring it out when she let out a pathetic "god..." as you left kisses all along her pulsepoint, keeping her in place as you were all over her and lost yourself in the sensation of her skin, the scent, the feeling, the taste. it was enough to make you abandon caution and suck on a spot before biting down lightly, which made her scratch your back in response.

"you’re killing me..." she breathed, clearly glad to be losing her mind, a smirk on your face when you pulled away and stared at her, your lips swollen, hers parted from the heavy breathing, her hands moving from your back to grip your thighs through the fabric of your pants.

you looked at her, drank in the beautiful sight of her all disheveled and flushed, before you leaned in to whisper to her "can we do more than just kiss? please".

she shook her head, caressing your legs absentmindedly. "no, I can’t, you’re not sober, you’re half my age, I won’t do anything to you. not like this." you realized then that she wasnt reading you right. you smiled, trailing your hand down the front of her shirt.

"that’s not an issue. you can just lean back and look pretty. let me take care of it". Van nearly blacked out then. "what?" she wasn’t sure if she was hearing you right. if she was imagining it all. you nodded and breathed against her cheek as you whispered "I wanna taste you", radiating want, "please. let me repay you for being sweet to me."

that got her good. she closed her eyes and tried to appear somewhat composed but you were a dream come true for her. she could tell that you actually wanted to do it. that you werent just talking a big game. but she still felt guilty in a way. felt undeserving. you could sense the hesitation, so you moved off from her and got down onto the floor.

she let out a confused "what-" before she saw what you were doing: you were showing her how you looked on your knees. you parted her still clothed legs and got between them. rested your cheek against one of them, staring up at her all doe-eyed, while stroking the other leg up and down. you were going in for the kill and she was done for.

Van leaned forward then and held your face in her hands, staring into your soul, violently turned on from the view of your kneeling like that for her, your pretty face looking up at her, signaling surrender.

you almost purred as you felt her fingers move into your hair. “you sure?” she asked, her voice hoarse, deep, achingly attractive. you felt it at your core. "yes. I’m dying for it." you reassured her, dramatic but true, you were almost whining from how badly you wanted to hear her moan for you, so she finally gave in and pulled down her jeans.

you helped her with her underwear, impatient, ripping it down for her, kissing her knee after, kissing all the way up her inner thigh while she tired to sit back and relax, tried to stop shaking. but you could feel it, that tremor of anticipation, so you were gentle, taking your time with it, covering both of her smooth inner thighs in kisses and licks, squeezing the soft flesh right below her hips at the same time, getting her worked up, hearing her sigh before you even got a taste of her.

eventually, she whined "please..." which made you stop what you were doing and move up to kiss her where she wanted you, a shudder as you did, her hands back in your hair as you felt how wet she’d gotten, a moan from you as you ran your tongue over her.

Van tried hard to not be pathetic, but the first few seconds of feeling slow strokes of your tongue on her aching core were enough to make her shift a little while starting to moan, which pushed you to hold her in place, to pick up the pace and make it sloppier, deeper, your face fully buried in her then, her cum all over your lips as you started savoring the taste and got into it, eagerly moving your tongue faster, pushing yourself further into her, eager to be smothered, an almost pained "fuck" as her head fell back against the cushion and her back arched up a little.

you wanted her to fuck your face, to use you, so you were glad to feel her move her hips rather aggressively, to feel her push your head as close as possible, to have her riding your tongue in a way, as you grew soaking wet yourself from the sounds she was making, high-pitched cries of pleasure that sounded angelic to you.

it pushed you to eat her out as passionately as you could, signaling to her that you were obsessed with her, because you were, even though you’d just met; she felt like heaven, her thighs warm against the sides of your face, her fingers tight in your hair as she tugged at it, her taste immediately addictive to you, which she could tell: Van was overwhelmed by how hard you were going, how genuine and serious your attempt at pleasing her was, it wasn’t what shed expected from you, at all, that you were better half-drunk than some of her other lovers stone cold sober.

she had no idea what she’d gotten herself into, had no idea how to process the feeling of unexpected intense lust, you could tell as you felt her unravelling and growing more and more erratic from your touch, a certain erotic thrill at having this hot, seemingly tough older woman helplessly moan and squirm form what you were doing to her, for her.

"I don’t want this to be a one time thing" you thought, as you sucked her clit and heard her groan "jesus..." while her head fell back even further and she braced herself for the impending release, her hands not on you but grabbing the couch then, hard, knuckles white. it was pure bliss, to have her react to every little thing that audibly, she was sensitive in the best way.

you could tell she wouldn’t last long, so you focused solely on her most senstivie spot to really push her, to make it intense and feel her come undone for you, your jaw aching lightly, a pleasant kind of pain, as you held her legs apart for her and heard her cries become more breathless, coming in faster intervals, so you gripped her thighs hard and let her decide when she was done, which was immediately after you tightened your grip, like she was only waiting to get the okay.

her hands were back on you then, to keep your right where you were, as she came against your mouth, slicking up your whole mouth even further, a pleased hum from you as you let her do whatever she wanted to you, let her ride it out, stayed in place and listened to her, your eyes closed, your underwear a mess, your whole body buzzing, burning up.

she took a good two minutes to really get every last shock of her climax out of her system and to calm down again, so you went back to kissing her inner thighs and let her come back to her senses while being sweet to her, obediently on your knees for her until she eventually found her voice again, tapped you on the shoulder and said "come here".

you got up then, a bit shaky, from the booze and the strain of kneeling, and got down on the couch next to her. she pulled up her underwear and jeans again, unwilling to be that exposed for too long and leaned back again, while you just sat there next to her and smiled, waiting a second before leaning in and giving her a kiss, perverse, her cum still on your lips, a deep sigh as she felt you warm against her mouth.

"you taste really good" you whispered after you pulled away and wiped your mouth, grinning afterwards, your hand on her shoulder, as she finally turned to look at you, shaking her head, a tired smile. "you are.. " she didnt have the words.

"what am I?" you asked, cocking your head, a prideful sparkle in your eyes as you pulled your legs up onto the couch and sat there all cute like you didnt just wreck her. she reached out and caressed your cheek then.

"where the fuck did you come from, I feel like I lost my mind and made you up or something." a quiet laugh, which made you blush and shrug.

“do you prefer receiving?" you asked, curious, she nodded "yeah, kind of". "well you’re doing the rest of us a favor, you sound hot" she slapped your arm then "okay, stop." which made you smile to yourself.

she glanced over at the clock on the wall and realized how late it was. "oh fuck." you nodded, "oh yeah, uh, I will leave you be now."

Van grabbed your arm then, the uninjured one, and shook her head, suddenly very alert. "no. I mean, fuck Uber and the train, I can just drive you, it’s no big deal, really. I mean... it’s the least I can do." the implication was amusing to you, that she was indebetted to you for giving her head.

"alright. thank you. that’s nice." Van got up from the couch and put on her jacket while waiting for you to the same, going ahead of you on the stairs to yet again prevent you from taking a lethal tumble.

during your walk to her car, you both fell into a nice back and forth, asking each other more questions, joking about every other sentence, laughing together while the freezing night air made you both clutch your jackets and walk with your arms crossed and your posture hunched.

you both had an afterglow about you, it wouldnt have been hard for anyone to tell that you’d just fucked if theyd taken a proper look at you. you both enjoyed it, the chemistry you had after just about an hour of knowing each other. you agreed with, it did seem like a fever dream when you looked at her, the way her pretty hair blew in the wind, the way she looked when only a few streetlamps illuminated her face, how her voice sounded after wearing it out with pleasure.

you kept stealing glances until you both got into her car and rubbed your hands together to warm up as she turned on the engine and put on the radio.

the drive wasn’t that long afterall, since it was nighttime and the streets werent full, so ten minutes after getting on the road, you spotted your house and told her "right there."

once she stopped the car, neither of you spoke at first, because neither of you wanted to go separate ways. you got an idea then.

"okay, before I go-" you said, reaching down into the back pocket of your jeans to pull out your phone and unlock it, leaving it open on the contacts app, while holding it out for Van to take. she didnt comply at first, she just looked at you and raised her eyebrows, clearly aware what you were asking her to do but unwilling to make it that easy.

"why do you want my number?" she asked, acting clueless, being a tease. you rolled your eyes because she was clearly trying to get you to stroke her ego a little by saying something like "because I wanna see you again" or “because I really like you”, which was obviously true, but instead you just said "oh, so I can send you nudes,of course. tons and tons of them.", your tone dripping in irony.

Van shook her head and let out a scoff, pretending to be disgusted but secretly enjoying it, that you were such a natural match for her, that you weren’t shy around her, at all, no matter what she did or said.

"okay, very funny. go on, give me that" she uttered and snatched your phone from your hand to do what you wanted her to, a triumphant smile on your face as you watched her type in her number.

she handed it back to you a few seconds after and eyed you curiously, staring at you in the dark with a mix of disbelief bewilderment in her expression.

"sorry but I still can’t believe you wanted me that badly" she said, apparently not used to it, being that openly lusted after by younger women, her mind still stuck on how you’d begged to taste her, still turned on by it and you clocked it, so you said "wanted? why the past tense?", while giving her a sweet look while reaching over for her hand, so you could lace your fingers through hers, to feel her skin against yours again.

she laughed, quietly, her fingers tightening around yours, allowing the romantic gesture, "jesus christ.." she whispered to herself, unable to act nonchalant around you. "you’re fucking good, you know. can’t remember the last time someone actually got through to me like this" she said, stroking your hand with her thumb, eliciting an enamored look in her direction.

"so, you’re kind of a loner then?" you asked, keeping your gaze fixed on her side profile until she turned back to look at you again. a nod, "yeah".

you squeezed her hand then, "well, sorry but I kinda have to ruin that for you then, I guess", she laughed, amused by the faux-apology, glad you were implying that you wanted to actually spend more time with her. "I’ll get over it, dont worry".

you both looked at each other for a second, enjoying the quiet and privacy, the feeling of being hidden away in this strangely tender intimacy youd stumbled into, out of nowhere.

you wanted to kiss her again, so you did, letting go of her hand to grab her face while leaning over, her fingers in your hair the moment you touched lips, a pleased sigh from her as she gave in and kissed you back. you made out for a minute or so, while you almost climbed onto her lap because it was torture to kiss without properly touching her, grabbing her, a smile against your lips when she felt you move, trying to bridge the distance between your seats, so she helped you out and your face with both hands to really make you feel close to her, and it worked, you eased up and melted into it .

you loved the way Van kissed because she was a sensual kisser, she clearly liked it to be slow and heartfelt, which was dangerous because it felt the way kissing did before having sex, intense and charged, lingering, deep kisses to draw out every little sensation, a brief bite to your lower lip.

eventually, you both let go and smiled, content, flushed, aware that your bodies were naturally in tune, that it would have led to more if you´d kissed like that on her bed or yours. the heavy breathing almost fogged up the car windows, so she pulled hers down while you sat back in your seat again.

"okay, I should go now but what about Saturday night? are you free then?" you asked, hopeful, breaking the silence.

Van was still bright red, a nervous clearing of her throat before she said "well, I am free pretty much any night, sweetheart" her tone raspy and low. the honesty and sudden use of a pet name made you warm up to her even more.

you nodded, pleased, "okay perfect! we could get dinner if you want". Van looked at you, her head cocked, a sparkle in her eyes, even in the dark of the night. "you’re really getting this all planned out before even texting me, huh?" she said, enjoying the feeling of being pursued.

"yeah, sorry, guess I am a bit eager..." you said, folding your hands in your lap, a shyness to your demeanor then, which Van had to make use of. "that’s an understatement, I think" she teased, lightly squeezing your knee, invoking your previous action, smiling at you, daring you to make eye contact without blushing.

you shrugged, wishing she’d let her hand linger on your leg for a bit longer. "what can I say. yo’re very much my tpye. so, I think it’s wise to be quick, before someone else gets in the way".

she was flattered but shook her head. "oh don’t worry, your competition isn’t very strong".

"no?" you asked, amused by that, tilting your head, watching her fuss with her hair for a second, a pretty sight, her running her fingers through the lengths of it, you reached out for a second to feel it too, a pleased smile from her.

"no. if anything, I think I should be the one to worry about beating out competition." she whispered, trying to charm you, succeeding, yet again. you let your hand wander and touched her cheek, just for a second, nothing too intense, still, her eyes went wide, you could tell. her skin was achingly soft. you were already dreaming of getting more time with her, to really feel her, in her entirety, for longer than just a few minutes.

"no, there’s literally nobody" you said, clearly not bluffing, Van seemed relieved.

"hm, good for me then. but you know, feel free to text me and cancel the date if you wake up hungover tomorrow and regret all of this. fucking around with some old stranger" she half-joked, which made you shake your head pretty vehemently in disagreement.

“yeah, no way. I don’t get like this for just anyone. not to gas you up too much but I actually haven’t had sex in a while, this isn’t my style usually".

"no go on, please, feel free to tell me how special I am. I am all ears" she said, leaning closer to you, batting her eye-lashes theatrically. "or you know. you can send me an embarrassingly heartfelt super long message about how badly you wanna see me again tomorrow. that works too." she was obviously joking but you were up to it.

"okay, brace yourself, I will be fucking pathetic about it. I will write you a novel". she laughed, "please do".

you both could have stayed sitting there for a good while longer but eventually you said "okay, thank you for all of this." pointing at the part of your arm that had been patched up by her. "and you know, this too" pointing at your heart after, smiling at her, which made her push you out of the door "okay, stop playing with me and go".

she was embarrassed by how easy you had it with her, which only made you come onto her stronger. you laughed as you got out and waved goodbye "sleep well, Van". she called out "you too" before pulling the door closed behind you and watching you walk inside, only starting her engine once you’d safely done so.

thirty minutes later you were in bed, freshly showered and ready to pass out, but you couldn’t deny yourself the pleasure of sending Van a text that was just a single heart, to give her your number in return.

"sweet." she texted back, which made you laugh, the way she wouldnt let you fluster her, not even over text. a minute or so passed until she gave in and texted back the same heart and said "here you go. go to sleep now. and be careful not to sleep on your right side, your right arm".

that text felt like a text from a caring girlfriend. it made you fantasize about what shed be like as a steady presence in your life. made you smile as you turned off your phone and laid down, on the correct side.

even though you were exhausted, you had trouble falling asleep; for about an hour you just laid there and replayed what had happened from the moment you met Van til the moment you parted ways. you didn’t mind how tired youd be the next day. dreaming of her was worth losing sleep over.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

SCREAM MASTERPOST

*= smut

CHAD MEEKS MARTIN

Bodybag | Riley!Reader

Chad comforts you after Dewey's death

Cockblock roommate *

Ethan stops you and Chad from continuing your activities

Don't go upstairs with him

Chad stops you from going upstairs with Frankie...and then confesses to you

Goodnight kiss * | Riley!Reader

Chad walks you home and finally takes your relationship to the next level

Helping hand *

After Chad gets released from the hospital, his personal nurse gives him a helping hand

I can't go through this again

Another ghostface strikes and Chad has PTSD from the legacy murders

Is that my shirt?

Chad notices that the shirt you're wearing is his

Late night in the kitchen *

During a trip to the twins' family cabin, you and Chad have a late night adventure in the kitchen

Save a horse, ride a cowboy *

You make a move on Chad and end up in an empty bedroom with his cowboy hat on, riding another kind of horse

Setting up the tree

You and Chad decorate the Christmas tree together

Stab stab stab

Chad gets stabbed by Ghostface when looking for you

Stood up

You get stood up and Chad offers you his shoulder to cry on

The no-sex rule *

You and Chad don't listen to Mindy's 'surviving a horror movie' rules

Wrong person

You send you nudes to your ex by mistake

You drew stars around my scars

You sleep over at Chad's dorm and see something you hadn't seen before

MINDY MEEKS MARTIN

Blood on the subway

Mindy gets stabbed on the subway...there's a lot of blood

Give me attention *

Mindy works on a school assignement, but you're bored and decide to tease her

Movie night

After watching the horror that is Halloween Ends, Mindy needs kisses to erase the movie from her memory

Skilled fingers *

Mindy is a goddess in bed

TARA CARPENTER

Caught *

Tara asks you to use a vibrator on her...and Sam walks in

I was so scared

After Tara gets attacked at her house, you visit her at the hospital

Is this good? *

Tara tries to top for the first time

I thought you were dead

You survive the attack inside the shrine

Sleepover *

It's the first sleepover since Tara got attacked in her house. You and her breaks the friendship

We might die tomorrow

After Sam and Tage get attacked at the bodega, everyone stayed over at the appartement

ETHAN LANDRY

Catching feelings *

You grown feelings during a game of teasing your roommate Ethan

Friends touch each other, right? *

You teach virgin!Ethan how to touch a woman

I can't forgive you | Riley!Reader

Ethan betrays you, but you can't forgive him

It's you *

You figure out Ethan is Ghostface

Let's play a little game *

You get a phone call from a masked ID when you’re home alone…

Night visits

As Quinn's friend, you are not allowed to see her little brother, so you and Ethan have a secret relationship

No protection needed *

You and Ethan do it without a condom for the first time

Play with me *

Ethan asks you to play with him

Panty stealer

Pervy!Ethan steals your panties

Pretty boy * | camgirl!reader

Ethan purchases a private session with his favorite camgirl

Pretty boy part 2 *

Ethan purchases another private session...and get the girl's number

Pretty boy part 3 *

Camgirl!Reader and Ethan finally meets

Roomie *

Ethan jerks off to his roommate and gets caught

Shy!Ethan

Ethan has a huge crush on you but is too shy to make a move...so you make one

Study time

Studying econ turns into teasing your boyfriend

That's hot

You find out that Ethan does boxing

Video games *

You give Ethan a blowjob while he games with Chad

Video girl *

You convince Ethan to make a video with you

BILLY LOOMIS

Knife play

You seduce Billy with the knife he used to kill Maureen Prescott

Ménage à trois * | Billy x Stu x Reader

A typical movie night at Stu’s turns into a ménage à trois

Mouthful * | Billy x Stu x Riley!Reader

Why settling for one when you can get two?

PG-16 at the Theater

Billy gets handsy at the movie theater

Stranger danger *

Billy decide to surprise you on your way back from Tatum's

Talk dirty to me *

Phone sex with Billy

[lunallaa]

||when the cat distribution system strikes||

gotham knights!jason todd x gn!reader

{Not edited/proof read please excuse any errors♡}

Ever since the two of you started dating, your favorite view and time of day consisted of the quite moments you and Jason shared when the city was asleep and everything for once was at peace. Now, you weren't a fan of being woken up in the middle of the night, but you found it hard to remain upset when you could look over at the other side of the bed and see your boyfriend finally have the moments of peace that he deserves for all that he does for the people of Gotham. Recently though, that view of yours got an upgrade. Tonight you had been torn out of your sleep by a slightly unpleasant dream and as you turned over to adjust yourself for sleep again you were met with the sweetest sight. There of course was your boyfriend peacefully dosing away, but with the newest adition of a small little void of a kitten just as peacefully sleeping on his chest. That tiny little thing was an unexpected new member of the little family the two of you had made and you wouldn't change a thing,even if the kitten still remained unnamed after being home for about a month now. You'll probably have to change that soon.

You remember when that furry little angel entered your lives like it was yesterday. You had gone out to the Bodega around the corner from your apartment to grab a few of their home-made pastelillos* for dinner because Jason was home for the night nursing a sprained ankle and craving one of his favorite meals. You remember being in a rush that evening due to the forecast of rain that was supposed to roll in at any moment, and due to that you were meant to be in and out and home within just a handful of minutes. Instead, on your way back home you were stopped dead in your tracks by the most pathetic little meow you have ever heard. Your goal of getting home as soon as possible was abandoned as you made your way to the tattered cardboard box sitting just at the entrance of the alleyway you almost walked past. Strays and pets that simply found themselves outside were no strangers to the neighborhood, not so much abandoned animals, which seemed to be the case as you get Closer to the tattered and damp box. Once you got close enough to get a peek inside you were able to see there in the shadow of the box the smallest kitten you have ever seen in your life. You had wondered to yourself if the poor thing was runt that had been left out here due to the fact you saw no evidence of any littermates or a mom. By then it had started to lightly rain, and you wasted no time in removing the hoodie you wore then gently picking and wrapping up the damp little creature as it cried out at the sudden change of environment.

Anytime you take a little more time than usual on an errand than planned, Jason can't help himself from becoming worried. It also doesn't help his worry when you don't answer you phone when he sends a few texts trying to see what was possibly making you late when it should've only taken you around twenty minutes. After hearing your voicemail message for the fourth time he was almost ready to (hesitantly) call one of his siblings to go look for where you could've gone, not only could you be in some kind of danger but the rain was starting to worry him. He was halfway off the couch when your soaking form finally came through the door. You barely gave him time to sigh in relief, let alone welcome you home and ask what happened as you hurriedly dropped the bag of food into his lap before quickly making your way into the bathroom. That worried him. In the last few years of you dating, you never came home and did not speak to him immediately, let alone rush past him like that. He thought he was worried before, but now he is concerned and almost scared of what's happening that he doesn't know about. Jason carefully got up from the couch and made his way to the kitchen to put your dinner into the microwave to keep warm before he made his way into the restroom to see what you could possibly be up to. The last thing he expected to see was you cradling a small soaking wet ball of black fur while stressfully searching the internet on your phone. While he had already began connecting the dots on what was happening, it wasn't until he had hobbled his way to your side and the furball meowing at him that he was fully aware of what was going on.

“Babe? Everything okay?”

“Oh! Jason! I was on my way back home but then I found this poor thing and I couldn't bring myself to leave it there I had to take it home. I'm so sorry.”

“Baby, no need to apologize. I'm Just glad you're home safe. Now, let me take over you need to go dry off and get warm.”

That night you and Jason had done what you could with your limited supply to bathe and care for the kitten before agreeing that you two would make the trip to the vet clinic in the morning to make sure it had a clean bill of health. You two had also immediately decided that you'd adopt the kitten due to how attached you had become and that Jason has no ability to say no to you when it comes to Stuff like this.

Life with a kitten was certainly new, it felt almost like the next big step in the commitment of your relationship. Thankfully the kitten was perfectly healthy, and your theory of it being a runt that was undesired was spot on. You had also found out that the kitten was a little girl and she fell in love with the two of you. She would constantly follow you around the apartment and was never more than a few feet from your side, if there was a moment where she wasn't with you it was because she discovered that Jason was her favorite playmate and her favorite pillow. You couldn't blame her, with his higher than normal body heat and big soft muscles he was your favorite pillow too. It had slightly worried you at first that a kitten was too big of a change and commitment for the two of you to make so suddenly, but that sweet little furball made you quickly realize that you and Jason were in the perfect spot in your relationship to handle just that.

Now as you lay in bed looking at the two loves of your life, you reflect on that rainy evening and feel so greatful for the universe putting this sweet little thing in your path. You also realize that it's almost been a month and your kitten needs a name.

"Jason. Hey.” He's awake immediatley.

"Yeah? What's wrong baby? What's happening?”

"We need to name her.” Jason relaxes now that he knows there's no danger, just his sweet girl and her late night thoughts.

"Yeah? What do you Suggest?” There's a pause as you think about your answer.

“Hmmm. What about…Midna?”A soft laugh escapes him as he recognizes the name. He wouldn't expect any less than for you to chose the name of your favorite character from one of you favorite video games.

“Hmmm nerd. Now go to sleep.”

"Okay goodnight, love you.”

“Goodnight, love you too beautiful.”

"I was talking to Midna.”

At that he softly moves and deposits the sleeping kitten onto the pillows above your heads before moving himself to softly smother you in his arms for the rest of night. Sleep comes back easily when your little family is all together in this little pocket of peace.

This blurb takes place in the same little universe as my last blurb :)

Read it here!

pastelillos*- basically Puerto Rican empanadas (I have a personal hc that Jason is mixed and half Puerto Rican♡)

Also if you recognize the name I picked for their kitten I love you♡

[princessracecar]

It’s after midnight when Daniel slides the door open to the phone booth three blocks from his shitty apartment in New York City. The air outside is heavy with static electricity, the clouds dark and ominous and the city lights blurry in the humidity. It’s a good gig, this one. A solid paycheck and he’s made the deadline, sort of. The paper is small but the publisher is an affluent man with a summer home on Fire Island and he’s hired Daniel to write coverage of the strange malady that’s been striking down the gay men in the seaside party town. He said to call when Daniel had his coverage written, so here he is, calling. He might not have meant in the middle of the night, but it seemed important, and Daniel feels it in a detached sort of way. He drops his change into the slot and dials. The phone rings as thunder rumbles overhead, the lights of a nearby bodega flickering in the stifling summer heat. The publisher answers on the fourth ring, just as the sky opens up and sends a wave of sound down over the booth that Daniel can feel all the way through to his bones. A forked tongue of lightning arcs white fire across the sky. There’s a pop followed by a shower of sparks in the very corner of his eye and the lights in the bodega flicker out, the entire block going dark in a flash that burns and leaves spots dancing behind his eyelids. The phone goes dead in his hand, the darkness surrounding him utterly complete behind the sound of the storm, a freight train throbbing in his ears.

He feels the man before the door folds open behind him, tries to be surprised and fails, the back of his thin t shirt soaked instantly by the storm, driving it’s way sideways into the booth.

“You left.”

It comes out accusatory and he wishes that he hadn’t said anything at all.

“I told you I had business to attend to. I told you to wait for me”

“You said you would be gone a few days” Daniel continues, his traitorous mouth running away from him. “After three weeks I gave up waiting.”

They had been in Mexico this time, some seaside town, the land of the deer. Once he couldn’t stand looking out over rush of surf, the beach and the blue, blue ocean anymore he had flown back to New York. He had found a tiny hovel to crash in, a friend of a friend had a spare room until he could find something more permanent, and he had gone to work finding enough money to forget himself with. The fact that Armand had found him, here in this city, here in this space, was no real surprise, and no real hardship for the vampire. It was more the fact that he had bothered to find him at all, Daniel had thought he was gone for good this time, and with good reason, he reminded himself. He turned fully to face him.

“Close the fucking door. It’s loud and shit and I’m getting soaked”

Armand stepped further into the phone booth, sliding the door shut behind him. They were pressed nearly nose to nose like this, Armand’s hair curled and wet around his face, his eyes shining in the darkness.

“My business took longer to wrap than I anticipated. I always planned to come back to you”

Damned mind-reader, curling his way through his thoughts like whisps of smoke, seeking and touching and finding. He feels Armand’s breath along his collarbone and when had he stepped closer? The ghost of a thought flickers through his mind and he quickly shoves it back. Forgiveness. Reprieval.

“You are angry with me” says Armand.

“Yeah, no shit”

The vampire’s lips move over the shell of his ear, his breath cool.

Daniel shivers and he isn’t sure if it’s from the rain or from arousal. Goosebumps run their way along his body. It’s still achingly hot and his shirt clings to him from the sweat of the day and from the violence of the downpour, the windows of the booth fogging up with his breath. Armand feels like a cool balm pressed all along the front of him, his eyes gazing down in silent pleading and adoration and Daniel wishes that he wasn’t so weak, that he wouldn’t go to his knees for this man with barely an uttered sigh. The kiss, when it comes, isn’t a surprise either.

“See?” Says the voice in his mind, “I told you I would come back to you. I will always come back to you.”

[childlikegoblinqueen]

Updated Bittersweet Symphony Ch. 2 Art!

Check out @threegoblinart 's actual chapter 2 artwork (which I have now dropped in the chapter as the first one was an earlier version)

If she’d like to chat at all about her process and design choices I welcome it, because I am totally in love with this.

And now some writing notes!

I'm kind of excited to be writing (now two stories) that explore some Willow POV. As with Hunter (and later other TOH characters) I had to feel out where Willow would be emotionally in the setting of Bittersweet Symphony.

She's an NYU undergrad, but also a NYC native. There's gong to be a TON more about her family and her upbringing as the chapters unfold -- some things will be similar to source material, others will diverge. A few things I wanted to make sure was her connection to nature and plants -- so having her in charge of the floral arrangements in her fathers' NYC Bodegas felt like the natural fit.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with a corner Bodega, here is some information on them.

Basically, they are small corner grocery stores where you can purchase nearly anything. And yes, many of them have AMAZING flowers.

Willow is also looking to study Environmental Science, which also felt like a natural fit ... but the punk band is sort of her Flyer Derby here. She's still a fan of working out -- and body image will come into play a lot more in this story, because the 90's most definitely was not the era of diverse body types.

I played with the idea of her being a guitarist, but bassist seemed to fit her best.

I also love the idea of Gus as the drummer -- but more on that later -- Viney strikes me as a guitarist and I thought it might be fun to have Skara bring something very different to the table (electric violin in punk? It's PUNK, why not?)

And of course, Willow (and the Emerald's) faithful meeting with Hunter mirrors ASIAS, but this time instead of Puddles the griffin, she's Viney's big shaggy dog that attacks him.

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Oath (Vampire!Karen Page)

Summary: Vampire!Karen just in time for Halloween!!!! If anyone plays Marvel Strike Force, they just introduced an original character named Oath who is a Vampire version of Karen Page. I was thus inspired. Also features Matt and Frank.

Warnings: Brief mentions of criminal men who have assaulted women, typical vampire stuff like drinking blood.

WC: 1875 

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen crouched low, taking in the scene before him in the cold alleyway.

The man in front of him was dead. Everything flooding Matt’s senses indicated he had died in the last few hours, except for one chilling detail. His body laid there cold as stone, as if he had been dead for days. From the smell of him, he had been totally drained of all his blood with minimal bodily injury. Just like five others Matt had found this week alone.

Finding victims in a state such as this would have led Matt to conclude something like The Hand was back in New York. But a few things about these bodies didn’t add up to The Hand.

When Matt came upon victim number 3, the police had already arrived at the scene. He overheard Detective Mahoney telling some officers the guy was a known criminal. In addition to the extensive counts of misdemeanors he’d been charged with in his life; when he was 21, he was taken in for the rape of a teenage girl he coached at a summer camp. At 28, tried for beating his girlfriend badly enough she was left with a concussion. And just last week, arrested again for robbing and assaulting a female cashier at a bodega.

The scent of apple and cinnamon lingered on the skin of all five victims. Not exactly like The Hand to leave a trace so… feminine. It was such a familiar smell though. Matt couldn’t quite place where he’d come across it before.

Maybe there was a new vigilante on the scene - hell bent on revenge against men who harmed women. Maybe just a plain old serial killer. But it all didn’t add up.

“Nother one huh, Red? Shit, that’s the third one I’ve found like that this month.” the gruff voice cut through the silence

Matt cocked his head as he rose to face the source of the voice.

“You know Frank, at first glance I’d have thought this was you. But even you aren’t this… brutal.”

“Ain’t wrong. He is my type. But nah… everytime I try to find one of these scums, they end up like this. Someone’s beatin’ me to the punch and I ain’t exactly thrilled about it.”

“Me either. You find any clues?”

“All of ‘em have been covered in wounds. Tiny ones. Ain’t ever seen a knife that could make marks that small and neat. But other than that, no sign of who mighta…”

The sound of sirens screeching down the block interrupted the conversation and the men nodded to each other.

“See ya round, Red.” The Punisher said, retreating down the alleyway.

“You too, Frank. Call me if you find anything.”

Matt leapt to the nearest fire escape and down the block into the night.

Matt tried to will away the pounding in his head as his fingers traced over the same sentence for the third time. He was wearing himself thin; thinner than usual. Between his usual night time activities, figuring out these bodies he’d been finding, and running the law firm, his sanity was wearing away quickly.

“Long night last night?” Karen’s melodic question cut through Matt’s mental fog as he jerked his head towards where she stood in the doorway

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Want some coffee? I’m meeting Foggy at the courthouse to pull some files but we could grab you some on the way back?”

“Yeah, Karen. I’d appreciate that.” he replied and turned his attention back to his work

“You wanna talk about it, or…”

“No. It’s um… other job stuff.”

Even though Foggy and Karen had known Matt’s secret for years now, he didn’t like to share details unless it involved something they could help with legally. He didn’t want to worry them, plus if he ever got found out, the less they knew the more protected they’d be.

“Right.” Karen said with a nod and turned toward the door. She grabbed her jacket and umbrella and called out through the office

“Be back in about an hour.”

Matt grinned as he took in the scent of her cinnamon perfume as she left, laced with a hint of… apple.

Matt cocked his head as he listed, spooked by how familiar the smell was to that of the mystery victims he’d come across.

He listened to her footsteps down the hall and out the door. As she walked down the street, he realized; he couldn’t hear her heartbeat.

Matt waited for hours, crouched on the roof of the warehouse as the rain soaked through his crimson suit and chilled his flesh.

The files he snuck out of Karen’s bag indicated this is where he might find another criminal - and it added up to where he could find her. The man’s record matched all the others, a long history of violence against innocent people, somehow getting out of any punishment, repeating his offenses recently. It was only a matter of time…

Matt could hear the screech of tires as the worn down van slowed to a stop on the wet pavement. The man Matt was waiting for stepped out, shielding himself from the downpour as he rushed towards the warehouse. Just as he reached out his hand to open the door, a figure appeared from the shadow and as fast as the lightning painting the sky, tackled him to the damp ground.

Matt sprung forward, leaping from the roof and landing with a roll in front of the scene. The figure rose and turned towards him, blood dripping from her mouth and mixing with the raindrops running down her face. The man she held to the ground screamed as he struggled in her grasp, but she easily kept him pinned beneath her.

“Matt? What are you? No, you weren’t supposed to…”

“Karen… what? What is going on? What happened?”

He removed the glove from his trembling hand and reached it towards her, but she shunned away.

“You can’t save me anymore, Matt. Please go.”

“No, I won’t. Why didn’t you tell me? Let me and Foggy help?”

“Because you can’t.”

“This isn’t who you are Karen. You’re not a killer.”

“I don’t have a choice.”

She turned back towards her prey and sunk her teeth into his flesh once more, draining the little blood he had left and he stilled beneath her. Matt shuddered as he listened to the man’s heartbeat fade.

Karen rose once more and wiped the remaining blood from her face, finally taking Matt’s outstretched hand.

Matt’s apartment had always been a place of comfort for Karen. Ever since that first night they met when he brought her back here on a rainy night just like this. The sweater he lent her brushed against her pale skin but it did not warm her. Nothing could now.

“So…” Matt finally spoke, cutting through the silence.

The mug of tea he made for her sat untouched on the coffee table as she stared out the window, watching the billboard paint the apartment in pink and orange.

“It happened… about a month ago.” she began her story, soft voice echoing off the high ceilings of the loft

“I was at Mrs. Perez’s apartment, the woman we helped file against her neighbor for the dog bite. I was getting the paperwork from her doctor about her injuries. I know I shouldn’t have been out so late, I should have called you or got a cab. It was stupid of me.”

She let out a deep sigh and continued.

“Anyway, I left her place just before midnight. I felt… eerie. Like I was being followed. I had my hand on my gun in my purse as I walked but just before I got to my block, he attacked me.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t see his face. I shot him twice, but the bullets just bounced right off. Next thing I knew, his teeth were in my neck and I could feel myself dying. I knew it.”

Matt raised his eyebrows.

“Dying?”

“Yeah.”

“Then what happened?”

“I don’t remember.” she continued “It all faded away, like I was drifting in a black abyss. When I woke up, I was still laying on the street. I didn’t know how I wasn’t dead. The sun was rising but it felt like it was burning my skin. I ran home. I called in sick for a few days and just slept. But I had this hunger… this urge.”

“To do what?”

“Feed. I was just running on instinct. I walked the street all night that night. I didn’t know where I was going, I just knew I needed to clear my head. I stopped outside this bar. Kind of a gross looking place. And there was this man, practically dragging this woman out of there. She was out of it. Like someone had done something to her drink. I don’t know what overcame me but I just… attacked. Drank him until he was dry. Then I felt better. For a few days. Until it came back.”

“You drank his blood?”

“Yeah.”

“Karen… that’s insane. That’s…” Matt reached out his hand to comfort Karen, but all he was met with was ice cold skin.

“I don’t know why he didn’t finish the job, why he changed me… But I know I can’t go back. This is who I am now. Like I said, I don’t have a choice. I’m not human any more, I’m something else.”

Matt sat in stunned silence. He had dealt with weird shit before; all The Hand’s ancient reincarnation rituals, the Avengers fighting aliens down the block, hearing half the city’s heartbeats disappearing then coming back five years later. But this, this was something he couldn’t quite wrap his head around.

“I figured if I need to feed, might as well take out a few people who deserve it along the way.”

“You’re starting to sound like Frank now…”

“Yeah… well.” Karen shrugged “I can’t do the double life thing like you Matt. I’ve been trying, but I can’t I’m too different now.”

Matt nodded, knowing there was no changing her mind. Karen rose from her seat, giving Matt a kiss on his forehead before heading for the foyer.

“Goodbye Matt.” she whispered as she closed the door behind her.

The man’s exhales were labored as he ran, glancing behind him every so often in panic.

He stopped to catch his breath, hands on his knees, when a shadow appeared over him. He lept back in surprise, the white skull staring him directly in the face.

“Look man…” he stuttered in a panic “I don’t want trouble with The Punisher. Please.”

Frank shoved the man into the brick behind him.

“Ain’t me you gotta worry about, asshole.”

The man glanced over Frank’s shoulder at the woman who had appeared, a devilish grin painted on her face as she stared him down.

“Her? What’s she gonna do?”

Karen bared her fangs and leapt forward, Frank stepping out of her way so she could take his place.

“Have at ‘em, sweetheart.” he nodded, watching as Oath sank her teeth into the man's flesh.

[galebrainrot2024]

Ok ok ok, this is so specific and niche BUT in post game professor Gale timeline. what kind of lunches do you think Tav would bring Gale on his lunch breaks...

I have this idea that my Tav shows up sometimes when Gale forgets his lunch and brings him a little packed lunch.

oh what a fun question! hehe I imagine a few options and all of them include a little note or something from you (sometimes sweet sometimes raunchy… lol)

1. I see Gale as a big sandwich guy, a sandwich connoisseur if you will - both homemade and purchased, if done right. He takes a strange amount of pride in his ability to make them so it’s a fun opportunity for you to practice your own skills. When he was isolated, sandwiches were one of the things he would make himself, both because they’re ease and versatility. Different breads, cheeses, meats, veggies, hummus, you name it. If waterdeep has bodegas, Gale has a favorite where he insists they make the *best* sandwiches. Tara spends a lot of her days hanging out there. He strikes me as a rye guy.

2. He also enjoys exploration and our favorite rizzard is willing to try almost anything once. on occasion, reader will take him out for lunch to try both old and new spaces or will bring takeout right to his office and eat with him if they have time. Bonus points if there’s desert included. If there are tacos and horchata in Waterdeep, spanakopita, samosas, bim-bap, bao, gyro the list goes on. You know him best and his tastes are mood dependent. Often he cannot make the decision where you’ll eat, and you’re happy to do it. Enjoys spicy food and struggles with it simultaneously, it’s an endearing quality.

3. In the fall and winter, soups. Any type of soup. Good soup.

4. This is niche and specific because of the clip of him munching on them, some type of mushroom dish - stuffed mushrooms, portobello burger, our man is a big fungus guy and will absolutely make a pun about being a “fun-gi(guy)”

5. A specialty dish that comes from either his mother and his family or yours, this type of surprised packed lunch always makes Gale beam a little extra, and makes him want to show you off to colleagues and your exquisite thoughtfulness (even if you’re a bad cook, like me haha)

:) this was fun thank you for asking hehe

[be-compromised]

One Prompt Challenge Masterlist

This is the masterlist for the One Prompt Challenge - as a warm up to the big promptathon, this challenge was for everyone taking part to fill the same prompt. Although we actually ended up with two as joint winners in a discord vote: ‘rooftop’ and ‘time travel’. Thanks to everyone who played and commented! 

beginnings & endings by @archers-and-spies (G; choose not to warn and no warnings apply) Summary: When the dust settles, Clint meets Steve on the bench by the lake, two hours before sundown.He has a promise to keep.

Distracted by @firlalaith (Teen; no warnings apply) Summary: Clint on his first SHIELD mission.

from brooklyn with love by @icantopenwaterbottlecaps (Teen; no warnings apply) Summary: Immediately, Clint knows something is wrong. You don’t get to hang around the Avengers, fighting crime and supervillains on the daily without developing a serious Shit-is-about-to-go-down-o-meter, and this… Well, maybe shit isn’t going down, not exactly, but something is definitely wrong. The buildings are all off, there aren’t enough flashy, LED shop signs or social media trap cafes. The regular bodegas are around, but the signs all look mysteriously newer. The people around him are decked out in suits and minidresses that he hasn’t seen in vogue since–– Since… Aww futz! Or: Clint and Natasha meet on a rooftop in New York City, only, it's 1969 and they're both stuck in time.

infinity in the palm of your hand by @inkvoices (Teen; no warnings apply) Summary: For the Ancient One, it’s only moments after she entrusts the Time Stone to Bruce Banner that it’s returned to her.

It Should've Been Me by @iriel3000 (PG for language; no warnings apply) Summary: During house arrest, Clint is visited by a familiar face.

Some Day by ultra_fic (Teen; no warnings apply) Summary: Clint has a chance to go back and fix things for Natasha.

Teatime at Tiffany's by @alphaflyer (Teen; no warnings apply) Summary: "This is one of the most powerful objects in the universe and I am not letting you use it to buy your girlfriend a box of chocolates or some lingerie, Barton." Clint forgets Nat's birthday and goes to Dr. Strange for help.

What You Give Is What You Get by @cassiesinsanity (Explicit for sex/smut; no warnings apply) Summary: Strike Team Delta enjoys some private time up on the roof during target practice.

[pastelalleycat]

This line in the WHRP news page has been haunting me to no end and I can't not bring it up anymore.

Guys.... I think Barnaby cares for Julie..........

(tons of theorizing under the cut)

We don't know much about Julie's inner psyche compared to some of the other characters, but we do know that she's outwardly always happy, always cheerful, always eager for a game or a smile. Being so fun-loving and not being able to crack a joke sounds like something that could cause Julie distress. She looks up to Barnaby and wants to be as funny as he is, but she's so engulfed in trying to surround herself in happy things, in the role she plays alongside Frank, that she can't admit that there's a problem, that there's something wrong in her life.

More about Barnaby's perspective is found in the Homewarming record- he's surprisingly perceptive, and there's an introspective, analytical part of his personality where he's able to take in people's emotions and level them against a logical standard. He may be brusque, blunt, teasing, but that's his way of caring. He knows, logically, that Julie can't make others laugh to save her life. He knows, logically, that Frank may not be the best match for her. And he knows, logically, that he wants to help Julie learn how to tell jokes- to help her.

Plus, jokes are literal currency- at least in Howdy's bodega. My theory is that Julie uses Eddie's post office for anything she may need instead by getting it sent in; in the "listen" audios, she recieves quite a few packages, and we never see her inside Howdy's store or interacting with him directly (as far as I remember). In a world that literally favors the funny, being unfunny is an actual disadvantage.

Whether it's puppy love or a friendly appreciation, Barnaby clearly likes Julie. And though he pisses her off, Julie enjoys his company too.

That brings us to Julie's winter hibernation, and the sentence used here in this news post. Julie's very connected to flowers, so the image of a flower needing strong roots to bloom in the spring is most likely related to her somehow. The Bug-a-Bye record can be interpreted as Frank mourning Julie's absence during winter, so we'd expect him to be the one to tuck her in, as it were, for her big sleep, so why is Barnaby mentioned?

Well, when Eddie dissociates during the Homewarming party, it's when he's forgone his role as the mailman and let others do his deliveries for him. He relaxes, and in that moment he doesn't have any ties to the Neighborhood- unrooting, so to speak, becoming aware that there's more to the soil than his roots could previously comprehend.

Sleep is similar to disocciation, but the subconscious mind is far more aware of the world during dissociation, whereas during sleep dreams can be difficult to discern from reality if you aren't lucid. Hibernation is a deep version of sleep, body and mind slowing down as much as it can to preserve function.

The health and life cycle of flowers in the Neighborhood are connected to Julie. If she entered hibernation and something happened to the flowers while she was asleep, she'd either have no way of knowing, or be too weak to do anything about it. Yet, if the roots are strong, a plant will live. It's much the same with a puppet.

Barnaby doesn't know too much about flowers, but he knows about dirt. About soil. About perception. And because he's a dog by nature, he damn well knows how to dig. In my head, I can't imagine he would feel comfortable if any of his neighbors were in danger, much less one who can't speak for herself.

The fact that Barnaby taught Wally the "Beautiful Dreamer" song, a song sung to a possibly dead lover- and knowing that Julie is about to enter / has entered a deep sleep at the end of the latest update- strikes me as eerie. I may be off the mark here, since Wally is pictured with dreamy imagery in the "Remderem" commercial as well, but I can't ignore it.

So uh, yeah, Julaby brOTP for life. Yeah.

[bonjas]

season 2 predictions:

I feel like I saw way more behind the scenes stuff that I never saw in the actual show, leading me to believe that either A. they already knew they would get a season 2 and filmed it at the same time or B. what was originally filmed was split up, hence why it feels so choppy. BUT probably neither of these things are true I'm just projecting 😩 cuz I still can't wrap my head around this season

I predict season 2 will bring us back to the original plot of Armando and Betty dating on the down-low and sneaking around behind everyone's back and that's how they reignite their relationship, and it's gonna end in another wedding for them.

there's sooooo much to talk about from the last two episodes but I'm too tired to really dive in, I can only think in bullet points lmao:

did I miss something? why did all of a sudden Hugo end the union/strike? that made no sense 😩

how did Mila and them even know about the papero and how to get there.....again did I miss something lol (edit: I forgot they're the original Ecomoda bodegas, but still they were acting like they knew exactly who he was, how lol)

the timeline was so fucked up. so you're telling me they ended the strike, Mila finds out that night about her mom and dads past, the next day Betty goes on the trip to cartagena and they're doing the fashion show at the same time? how did it get done so fast?! no one bothered to ask their president if they could do it, had the funds for it, bothered to ask her to come? HUH????? 💀 showing random shots of sewing and fabric doesn't do shit to show the passage of time 😭😭

the ADR by the beach sucked so bad it looked AI generated lmao. I'd rather have shitty ocean wave audio like in the original lol

Armando's lawyer continues to make no fucking sense as to why she even wants to be with him, it's a useless storyline with no context other than "of course she'd want to be with Armando Mendoza" and just serves as a "see, he's changed he's not hitting on other women" plot device

Betty's lawyer at least got to be cute and have actual interactions with her that help us make sense as to why she'd wanna make out with him 🤪 do yo thang girl

mila and nacho practically living together - huh?????? this novela is HORRIBLE at timelines, sense of time moving, days passing, literally without them saying that we would assume that was their second time sleeping together. bad bad bad.

mila going through the same betrayal as her mom - sorry I rolled my eyes at that one 😭 trying to wrap everything up in a bow having Mila discover the truth by somehow magically guessing his password, finding everything, spilling the beans during the meeting, all in one episode trying to have us connect to her heartbreak, girl we never fucking liked him lmao!!!!!!!! he was always ick as fuck u have horrible judgement 😭

glad her and Betty have essentially mended things but lmfao still have no idea why she was sent off for 5 years like that's not an insignificant time frame, 15 to 20ish is a HUGE stage of life and to have missed that??? like what?? but they depicted Mila so terribly I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop every time there was a "sweet" moment between them because they didn't give me any reason to think she was being genuine, I think that's a huge failing on their part cuz they never showed the love between them only Mila hating her, right to shopping and hanging out, there was a huge disconnect for me.

Mario you were fired, armando "rejected" your firing but what are you even doing here bro

Jeff and his relationship and their drama with Mila is so blah why is it even in this. Mila you suck for kissing him knowing he has a gf wtf? Also her hairstyle at the fashion show was giving Troll doll what did they do to you girl!!!

not letting Betty have a moment with her dad to actually talk about the diary is such a cop out, it could have been a beautiful moment in him confessing that he still failed her after trying so hard to protect her and she married the man that caused her the most pain and she couldve been like yeah it's pretty fucked up it's why I'm getting a divorce, after all that I feel like he still didn't accept us as his family~ or SOMETHING. crumbs, it's all I'm asking.

Ignacio being a sibling instead of a nephew is sooooooooo duuuuuuuumb lmfao literally serves no other purpose than to make people go GASP!!!! no purpose.

I FORGOT TO BRING IT UP BEFORE, WHY DID THEY MAKE BETTY FALL DOWN THE FUCKING STAIRS AT ECOMODA LIKE THAT A WHILE AGO LMFAOOAAO WE ALREADY KNOW SHE'S CLUMSY YOU MAKE HER DROP OR CRASH INTO SHIT EVERY EPISODE

[artandpunishment]

certain books nailing how uncomfortable it is to be in public, but also let go of anxieties to just be a person out of your house is amazing. all ottessa moshfeg's works (aside from lapvona), the tatami galaxy novel, the hour of the star, colorless tzukuru, after dark, and anything by mieko kawakami are perfect examples of that. humanity is so beautifully demonstrated in their works. even if we were villains and the raven cycle grapple so well with drama in a way that comes across as tense and realistic.

anytime i am reading something and a certain compulsion to write, or a wave of recognition washes through me, it has to do with that emotion. in my year of rest and relaxation every time the narrator went to the bodega got me. in all the lovers of the night, when the main character lost her purse at the activity center and was walking around there drunk during the day, the main character in tatami galaxy despising ozu and going out despite the indifference he feels, is all so compelling.

i don't know how to explain this feeling. there is a vitality that it gives and it simply feels alive. nothing particularly striking occurs, but the fact that there is character voices going while they are doing something normal, and being unashamed while doing so, is painfully alive. political issues going on while they are going to get coffee or ramen or heading to class. they are uncomfortable living but it's all they can do, they can't help but live even though they are unhappy with how it's going.

That emotion and position is something i find myself in quite often. reading it in literature, in books from authors of different genders writing in different genres, with characters of ages different from my own and genders different from my own, displays how universal of a feeling this is. perhaps it is close to kant's sublime, but i don't really want to talk about kant.

[scnguinestudy]

[     DERYA PINAR AK ,  CIS WOMAN ,  SHE/HER.   ]     ⸻     have you seen DEFNE OSMAN? yes, the TWENTY year old / JUNIOR that’s usually wandering around campus? they’re currently focused on NURSING, so we’re sure they’ve been super busy with studying. according to rumors, they were michael’s CHILDHOOD FRIEND and he knew they SELL FAKE IDS. does it make sense considering they’re known for being INTUITIVE as well as STUBBORN? either way, the phantom is threatening to bring scary things to light, but let’s hope whatever they’re hiding stays in the dark. 

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒 …

𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄: defne lunara osman

𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄(𝐒): daph, luna

𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄: november 12th, 2003

𝐀𝐆𝐄: twenty

𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: biromantic

𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: demisexual

𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌: devils in the canyon by the strike, fake id by big & rich, dopamine by madelline, please please please by sabrina carpenter, bad feeling (oompa loompa) by jagwar twin, wouldn’t you like by jorge rivera-herrans, alice by peggy, show me heaven by luke evans, i was made for lovin’ you by yungblud, oops i did it again by britney spears

𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒: making tea for the ceremony of it but drinking coffee like her life depends on it, oversized hoodies paired with fitted skirts, worn novels stacked in all manner of haphazard piles, overwatering plants as symbolism for caring too much to the point of suffocation, a study of girlhood where chaos and calamity can exist alongside laughter and naivety, bribes accepted in mango flavored smoothies

𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘…

listen, the first thing you need to know about defne is that she knows stuff. okay? she knows dumb stuff that has no real world applications, stuff that could help you break into an ex’s apartment or steal a car, and stuff that’ll come in handy in the most unlikely situations.

the reason for this colorful collection of knowledge stems from her parents often times leaving defne to her own devices as a kid. so the young girl found her entertainment in her peers and books. which is how she met michael, the neighbor boy who she befriended in middle school when she fell off the bus and he gave her a hand (but not without laughing first).

los angeles was the perfect city to meet all manner of people and boy did defne ever, especially thanks to the bodega her uncle ran that she spent her after school hours at. it was how she first learned to lock pick, and was given her first agatha christie mystery.

it was also the reason she was sent to the hospital one night, but that only managed to light an interest in medicine for the teenager at the time.

so when she managed to get into golden state, her parents were thrilled. it was a great launching pad for her future, and she fully intends on going after a medical graduate degree after graduation.

okay but why and how did she get into selling fake ids? listen, babe, when one sees a market for something . . . one tends to jump at the chance to make money. a friend of defne had wanted to get into a club, so defne had tried her hand at whipping up a fake id. it was convincing enough to pass that she started raking in the money and building up a client base. under wraps, of course, strictly hush hush. everyone so far seems to understand that if she gets found out, their ticket to the clubs and bars gets pulled.

defne hadn’t thought too much about making michael a fake id, he was a friend since forever. why wouldn’t she, right? so when he started hanging that information over her head like a sword on a string, she started to feel anxious. would he actually tell someone if she didn’t tow the line he’d drawn for her? but before she could question it for too long, he was gone.

she doesn’t miss the manipulation, or the stress he’d managed to induce due to his tactics. but defne does miss the way michael was before he started acting like that. at the core of it all, she does miss her friend.

defne is a sweetheart to a fold. she probably has coffee flowing in her veins at this point due to how much she consumes. she loves murder mystery novels (ironic i know), and can and will rewatch 00’s flicks like her life depends on it (because her sanity lowkey does). she will willingly leap without looking, and stick her neck out for those she cares about. catch her knee deep in a video game when she absolutely should be studying cause procrastination? we absolutely know her.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒…

best friend(s)

confidant

partner in literal? crime

exes

study buddies

opposites attract

gaming buddies

fellow theatre crew

frequent customers

former customers (who now look out for her/make sure no one spills her business?)

current relationship? / future significant other?

coffee buds

anything tbh, let’s plot