#but lots of themes!! lots. and i mean a /lot/ so listen with caution!!

[apollos-arr0ws]

❝Happy Anniversary.❞

[meaningofaeons]

Ehhh hi! I love your work so i wanted to ask for hcs with star rail men and kafka (choose whoever you want) with gn!reader or s/o who has a lot of childhood trauma. I mean brutal emotional and physical abuse from a really young age, a lot of scars, blood, sa, ect. How would (star rail character) react to s/o telling them about their past/ seeing s/o's scars? Pls angst🙏. If you dont like the request, just ignore this. Have a nice day/night! -anon

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ old scars die hard

⊹ character(s) - sampo koski, kafka, jing yuan ⊹ word count - 1.3k ⊹ notes - gn!reader, TW!! themes of abuse both emotional and physical, self-harm tendencies (not touched on as much but possibly implied?), etc. please read with caution and heed the warnings!!!

hi anon omg I hope you're okay (ﾐዎ ﻌ ዎﾐ)ﾉ I don't know whether this is personal to you and your experiences or not but regardless!! this req touched me I know it's been sitting in my ask box for a while but I wanted to do it proper justice. I love you anon and I hope you are doing well <3!!! thanks for the req!

⊹ Sampo Koski

He's not super concerned at first when he sees the first signs of scars

I mean, he's had his fair share of run-ins with disgruntled "customers". His scars are more numerous than yours, he'd assume.

That is, until he remembers you're not really in the same line of fire that he can typically find himself in

That's what gets him wondering.

Sampo's not really one to get into emotional vulnerability, and I don't think he'd ask you first

Unless of course, you started to gain new ones under his watch

If he's known you for a while, I feel like he'd have questioned it often until you told him to stop, and then he'd be kind of reluctant to bring it up again.

However, if you two are fairly new friends/partners, he'd dance around the issue but try to confront it regardless.

Especially if the abuse is current from people currently in your life or something you recently inflicted on yourself, he'd try to mention/address it in a roundabout way.

"That doesn't look so hot, Y/N! Might wanna see Miss Nat for it. What, you getting into the business of scam—aheh, I mean, customer service—too?"

Sampo tries to keep it light, but when he notices the way you tremble at the acknowledgement he makes of your wounds, his face crumples.

He's instantly apologizing, instantly doing anything to make you feel even a little better.

Offering to take you out to lunch, buy you something nice, or just get some takeout food and watch a show together.

I feel like Sampo, being relatively unequipped to seriously handle stuff like this (considering he's very much a humor-cope kind of person) would be especially frantic in trying to assuage your troubles

Whatever you want! Seriously, he'll bend over backwards for you, especially when you're vulnerable.

Sampo Koski may not be the most sensitive or empathetic, but he knows when to hold the quips and jokes.

He's a very good listener, though. It's honestly pretty shocking.

Now, Sampo's not much of a violent criminal.

Yes, he's a conman, but usually his plans involve escape over actual fighting back.

Still, when he hears about those who have made you suffer, he's not going to stand by.

In the cover of night, after tending to your wounds (both physical and emotional), he'd be off.

He won't kill them. But Sampo sure as hell will make sure they wouldn't even think of coming within five miles of you ever again.

And you'll never find out about it, either.

All that will happen is your life improving because your abuser will be out of it, and Sampo is perfectly content melding back into his usual joking self, bringing as much normalcy to your more peaceful life as he can.

⊹ Kafka

At first, I think Kafka sees your scars/wounds and is kind of... uninterested? Or perhaps less uninterested and more just unconcerned.

Sure, there's questions and thoughts to be had, but everyone has their pasts—especially those among the Stellaron Hunters.

However, over time and with careful, calm observation, Kafka notices more about you.

She takes a special interest in you that she doesn't quite hold with her other fellow Stellaron Hunters.

How you apologize endlessly over small mistakes...

Or even how you flinched back when Silver Wolf of all people got angry and shouted at one of her video games.

I mean, Silver Wolf! The smallest of the Stellaron Hunters—outside of her abilities in manipulating the data of reality and hacking, she physically couldn't hurt a fly.

So, Kafka takes matters into her own hands.

She's pretty upfront, seeing no reason in beating around the bush.

She was content before in letting it slide as "everyone has their secrets", but she eventually develops something akin to concern for your situation.

"Darling, I just had a few small questions for you... Don't feel pressured to answer if you're not inclined."

The second half of her sentence shocked her a bit.

She has abilities relating to hypnotic suggestion—if there's something she wanted to hear or know, there's no reason she couldn't acquire it. And if there's something she wanted someone to listen to and obey, she could do it with no questions from the other party.

So really, it was awe-inspiring that she afforded you the luxury of choice here.

After hearing what happened to you, Kafka is not the type to go on a vengeance-path.

She knows the past is the past, and that you're with the Stellaron Hunters now, so your abuser is long gone from reach.

I think Kafka mostly focuses on comforting you in the moment.

Especially if you're partners, she'd be very inclined to give you a shoulder to lean on, a person to cry to.

Kafka may seem flippant, but she holds a deep-seated affection for you and she treats your trauma with the utmost respect and seriousness it deserves.

She'd definitely get more protective of you after hearing your past.

As long as it's not against Elio's script, she's accompanying you on any mission you need to attend to.

And, well, if someone happens to trigger any unpleasant memories, be it a stranger or otherwise...

They're taken care of. Quietly.

⊹ Jing Yuan

Jing Yuan, teddy bear of a man he is, is likely the most forthcoming of the three about any scars he sees on you.

He's the General and goes into battle so that you don't have to get scars like his, and yet, what are these past wounds he sees on you?

The man isn't an idiot, though. He knows the circumstances behind them are likely far from pleasant.

He also knows how to treat a matter with the delicateness it requires.

"My dear... May I ask about that wound on your arm?"

So, so gentle.

He's already got you in his arms before you can say a word, cradling you gently and soothing you before you can get the story out.

Listens to every single word you have to say, only breaking your continuous sentences to hush you now and then and calm you down

Doesn't matter how much work he has to do, Jing Yuan would stay with you for hours or days on end to make sure you were okay

He, like Kafka, is not the type to be overly vengeful or seeking of retribution against those who hurt you.

Rather, he's more of the mindset that the best revenge is a life well-lived, and that's exactly how he intends to get back at your abusers—by making your life as wonderful as he can.

That's not to say he won't do anything, though.

If your abusers were still alive or around, he'd definitely pull some strings.

Nothing violent, of course, but the abuser(s) lives aboard the Xianzhou Luofu would never be peaceful again if he knew who they were.

Jing Yuan is more focused on you and your recovery.

If you ever feel like hurting yourself, or the past comes back to haunt you, he's dropping everything for your sake.

He doesn't just treat you like glass or tiptoe around you, though.

He knows how strong you are to have made it through such experiences and still be alive—to a long-lived species, it's especially admirable that one could sustain themselves through such things

As such, Jing Yuan respects you greatly. And he demands the same from others.

Not that he didn't already, being that you're his partner or closest friend (however you'd like to interpret, but he is most certainly in love with you!)

He's just more conscious of his own actions henceforth.

Jing Yuan wasn't the type to raise his voice or get visibly upset with you even in moments of disagreement or conflict, but he's especially more gentle after hearing your past.

The man is literally a walking green flag, I don't know what else to tell you!

[oleander-nin]

Horrortober Day 25- Shock(Yandere Rise Donnie x Reader)

A/N, not important: Man there's a lot of Donnie. I should probably switch a few lol. Also this one kinda sucks because I'm running out of steam again and I only have Three more plots that I really actually like. And uh... two of them are Donnie. Oops. Hope y'all like him because apparently I sure did. Also my birthday's in exactly a week. So. yay! You're going to get reminded for the rest of these because I want to be annoying about it. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: chains, shock collar, yandere themes, dark themes

Words: 1047

Summary: Donnie's desperate to get you to listen

“You’re not listening.” Donnie says, his voice tight and his hands halfway clenched at his sides. You roll your eyes, anger bubbling in your chest from the sheer audacity. You didn’t want to listen to a thing he had to say until he let you go.

“I don’t usually listen to people who chain me in their lab.” You sneer, yanking at the chain screwed into the wall and connected to your ankle. Donnie bristles at your words, his eyes sharpening as he looks down at you. You can tell you hit a nerve, especially after he just gave a near hour long speech on why it was necessary to keep you here. He opens his mouth before shutting it with a small click, his shoulders tense.

“I’m trying to keep you safe.” He says slowly, like he was talking to a small child. You try your best to hold your tongue, knowing that anything you said would be taken both literally, and as an act of war. Making him too angry could be dangerous, and you weren’t sure you wanted to risk it.

“I don’t need to be kept safe. I was fine on my own.”

“Scoff!” Donnie exclaims, his voice growing in pitch as he gets more upset. “You were living in less space than the average pig. I will not allow you to be in such conditions. I have everything you need here, and you can be kept safe and healthy. I’m helping you.”

Your face heats at the notion, your teeth sinking into your lips as you try to keep from yelling. “That was not your call to make. And how can I possibly be safe here? You kidnapped and chained me! That’s the opposite of being safe!”

“They were necessary precautions!” Donnie argues, his drawn eyebrows furrowing. He’s starting to lose his patience, his shoulders shaking while he fights you. “I offered to bring you home a few days ago and you refused! It’s not my fault you’re so stupid I needed to intervene.”

Your nose flares at his words, all caution thrown to the wind. Whether it was his intention or not, he had successfully riled you up to the point of snapping. Cohesive thought leaves and anger takes over, your eyes darkening and a scowl set on your face. “Why would I ever want to go ‘home’ with you?”

Donnie shifts, his stance becoming more closed off. He towers over you, trying to make you cower back. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

You roll your eyes, standing up shakily to meet him, wincing at the tightness of the chain around our ankle. Fire danced in Donnie’s eyes as you met his glare, neither backing down for a second. You snarl at him, wanting to do nothing more than punch him square in the face for treating you like this.

“You’re being unreasonable.” Donnie sneers, his eyes twitching while he stares down at you. You don’t say anything, only staring at him with the utmost hatred in your eyes. Any care you had for him before was gone, your words only fueled by anger and hatred for the mutant in front of you. Donnie holds your gaze for a moment more before looking away, leaving the room he’s tied you in and shutting the sliding door with as much force as he could muster. You fall back into a sitting position on Donnie’s bed, grumbling to yourself as you pull on the chain keeping you stationary. If you could only get rid of that, you would be able to run and get away. As long as Donnie didn’t notice, of course.

The door opens again, Donnie’s heavy footsteps signaling his nearing presence. You don’t react, keeping your back turned to him while you continue to meddle with the chain around your ankle in an act of defiance. You couldn’t do much in your position, but you could show him you weren’t backing down. You could feel his eyes boring into the back of your head.

You regret not looking at him when a sharp pain shoots through your scalp, Donnie’s hand tangled in your small mess of hair as he yanks your head up. You struggle and scream profanities at the mutant, clawing at his hands before two sleek robotic arms hold you down. His hand is removed from your head, both limbs moving to your neck as he fastens something cold and metal around your neck. He pulls back, and all of your struggling makes you fall forward, his spider-shell no longer holding you up.

You turn to glare at him, opening your mouth to yell some more, but your body doesn’t let you as white-hot pain shoots through your person. Your muscles spasm and lock up as you scream, the onset of pain only lasting mere seconds, but your limbs refusing to move for moments more. You shakily push yourself to your knees, looking at Donnie’s smug face with fear. Your twitching hand moves to your neck, swiping over the metal now practically melded to your skin from the tightness.

You thumb the sleek technology, the aftershocks of pain making you dizzy while your vision fades in and out for a few terrifying moments. You felt sick, the small amount of electricity buzzing under your skin before finally dissipating. You stare at Donnie in shock, unable to speak to him. Everything he had just done to you broke every assumption you had about him, every form of trust and bond shattered. He shocked you, the remote still loose in his hand.

“Do we understand the consequences of our actions?” Donnie asks, his voice light and playful despite the condescending words. He sounded happy with what he had done, probably overjoyed in the fact that his invention had worked. Faint memories of a similar device given to his brother flood your brain, but Leo’s could be removed and was much bulkier. Yours was sleek and smooth, flush with your skin and more collar-esque than the bulky tech that Leo was given. You gulp, looking at Donnie and the situation really dawning on you. You were stuck, and Donnie would do anything to keep you that way. He would keep you safe, even if it meant hurting you himself.

[romana-after-dark]

Room's on Fire: So Afraid

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader

Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader

Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader

Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Madonna learns her power.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

Extra warnings for chapter: I dont wanna spoint things so just proceed with caution. DM me if you'd like specifics before reading. I dont think its as bad as other things but.... you'll see

3.1k words (so sorry)

Support artists, like and reblog!

BTW if you dont read the lyrics usually i feel it really hits hard this time

I been alone All the years So many ways to count the tears I never change I never will I'm so afraid the way I feel Days when the rain and the sun are gone Black as night Agony's torn at my heart too long So afraid Slip and I fall and I die. ~ Go Insane, Fleetwood Mac

“He’s fucking unraveling.”

Ben is pacing inside the sanctuary, Will leaned against the wall listening to him rant. They were waiting for the others and Madonna, having to perform a healing ritual. As far as Will could tell, she was going to be okay outside the lasting scars and the mental terror, and she was past the point of miscarrying from the incident, but the people needed assurance. They needed to feel a part of something. The doors were opened other guard had seen what had happened, and from what he and Ben had heard from the rumblings of the people, they were nervous. Unsettled.

Will had to set the course straight, concocting a story of possession and torment by demons to explain Santi’s behaviors… which of course cleared Santi of responsibility but still left Delta scarred. He continued to listen to Ben’s rants.

“He’s gonna fuck it all up. Doesn’t he know more than anyone what we’re doing here? He could have killed the savior.”

“And Madonna.” Will reminds him, but Ben turns to glare at him.

“I’m aware of that. I’m aware of how important Madonna is, you don’t think I love her too? You don’t think I’ve spend every night in her bed-”

“Next to Frankie.”

Ben stopped, stepping forward and looking like he might start a fight. He was drunk, and when Ben was drunk he was either madly horny or ripe for anger fits. Will’d seen him kill a man with his bare hands at a orgy for kissing Frankie. Orgies were orgies, but Santi kept rules around Frankie, rules that had been enforced by Ben’s rage he pushed down below his crown of sunshine on his hair.

But then Frankie opened the door.

“Hey guys.” He walked in his formal wear, and Will had to admit he understood why everyone wanted a piece of him. His eyes were bright in the yellow light.

“Where’s Madonna?” Will asks.

“She’s finishing eating, Rey’s with her. I wanted to talk to you guys alone.”

Will nods.

Ben seems frustrated, crossing his arms in that pout he likes to do. ”I don’t like her alone with him.”

“He’s her personal guard, Benjamin. We have to trust him.”

He shakes his head. “We should rotate her guard so no one gets attached. You know how she breaks down everyones walls better than anyone, Frank.” There was a bit more bite than Frankie expected after the close nights they’d been spending in each other's arms next to Madonna, but when Ben was drinking it was always a bit of a guess.

“He’s her only friend. The first friend she’s had since we decided to set her dad on fire. I think we can allow her-”

“UUUUGGGHHHHHHHHH” Ben rolls his eyes and his whole head in annoyance. “Can’t she just be friends with Iris?”

Will spoke up now. “I think you ensured that won’t happen.”

“And you ensured she can’t trust Jonah” Frankie snapped, not sure why he was defending Ben. He didn’t know he did anything half the time.

Sighing, Will scrubbed his face and then held out his hands. “Both of you relax. I’ve got it taken care of. I doubt Rey has any interest in Madonna, but considering I don’t this Iris is putting out with him, we can’t be too sure. And considering what Pope did to her, we can’t have her falling into his arms. I’ve got it.”

Frankie nodded. “Rey doesn’t have eyes for anyone but Iris.”

Ben’s drunk anger shifted to his horny drunk. “To bad Madonna doesn’t have eyes for Iris.” He looked far away, smiling, no doubt thinking of their wife fucking the pretty cook. Will couldn’t deny she was beautiful… it was a wonder she was unclaimed by the time her punishment began.

A smack from Frabkie broke Ben out of his thoughts. “Ow!”

“You’re sick, you know that?”

“I can dream!”

Will was about to shout at them all to shut up when Pope opened the door. He wore a red tunic, reminding Will of pictures he’d seen of pentecost robes from the before. Not as tight as Frankie, but Frankie gained more weight in recent years. 

“Gentlemen.” He greeted, eyes raking over Frankie’s form. “Are we ready?”

Everyone nodded, Frankie doing his best to hide the anger, the furry, the disgust he felt at Santi. He could hurt him, but how dare he hurt Madonna?

Will nodded over to the entry to the church. “Frank, Ben, start the prayers. We’ll come out in a bit when Madonna arrives.”

Pope narrowed his eyes, but told Ben and Frankie to go, watching Frankie’s ass as he walked through the curtains to the congregation. 

“You couldn’t be more obvious, you know.”

He breaks Santi out of his lustful view.

“Hm?”

“Everyone knows you want Frankie more than anything. Can’t keep your eyes off him.”

Santi attempts to brush his concerns away with a whisk of his hand. “I love all my spouses.”

“You love Frankie.”

“I love him, Ben, you, Madonna.”

“You just want the savior-”

Rushing close to Will, Santi presses his chest against his lover and whispers in a harsh tone. “The savior is a part of her!”

Will grips his tunic, keeping them pulled close as he whispers in his ear. “You need. To calm. Down. Breaking her breaks the savior. Breaking her breaks the whole community. You are losing touch with reality and if you do not get. Your shit. Together. Everything will come crumbling down.” He pulls back just far rough to meet his eye and walks forward, backing Santi up until his ass hits the slab of marble they all deflowered their wife on. A faint trace of her blood remained.

Santi was panting, chest heaving and his cock rose in his robes. “Everything I do is for our community. Who do you think got her pregnant? We’re going to save this doomed earth, we’re bring The One Mighty and Strong to earth and Divine Mother will finally let us all be happy.”

“Santi…” Will caressed Santi’s face, enjoying how easily Santi submitted. Frankie was easy. Frankie melts at the simplest touch of anyone who shows him affection. Santi only submits to him. “You need to relax. She’s pregnant, and she’ll be okay. The savior is coming. You just need to-”

“Don’t tell me what to-” He begins to snap at Will, but before he can finish he’s turned around and bent over the altar. His tunic is being pulled up, and when his hands move to stop him, they are pinned down to the cold stone. “WHat are you doing?”

Spitting on his hole, Will lines his cock up at Santi’s ass and leans in. “You hurt Madonna. You need to learn a lesson.”

*

You enter at your cue, giving Rey’s hand a squeeze before he lets go to open the door. You hated this, you hated being out in public knowing everyone knew what was done to you. Will said Pope was possessed, that he was fighting a battle with the devil, spiritual warfare and he needed prayers, he needed your strength. You had to be strong for him. You forgave your husband and felt sympathy he was in so much pain… But why do you still want to recoil when he touches you? You were sleeping in your bed again, but one always accompanied you to help if the nightmares returned…. You never slept when it was Santi’s arms around you

Francisco and Ben were leading the congregation in prayers, praying for Pope’s strength in his battle and you prayed along, Francisco getting up to walk you down to the raised area. You remember, as you always did, walking down the aisle on your wedding day, unable to bare looking at them for too long, finding solace in Jonah’s eyes… Now he was talking nonsense, and you were worried about him.

The other day, early morning, you’d slipped out of Ben’s arms to find something to eat. Baby was kicking, apparently wanting sugar and you hoped Iris wasn’t up. Things were tense between you, and you could make your own pancakes. You had, of course, thanked her profusely for caring for you when… when it happened, genuinely grateful for the care she showed you… You wanted to be her friend again, god you really did, you wanted to go back to singing with Rey and her and Jonah in the kitchen… but something in the air had shifted.

Wish granted, Iris wasn’t there. Jonah was. He was drinking coffee, PJ pants slung low on his hips… No shirt. He had a lean body even at his age, hip bones prominent below the weak elastic and a trail of hair going down-

When the floor under you squeaks, Jonah stands up fully, shuffling to move behind the kitchen table. “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be alone…”

“Baby wants pancakes.” You rub your stomach. He’s not looking at you. You make a move to the cabinets, But Jonah cuts off your path.

“I got it, you should rest.”

Your shoulders slump. “I’m not a baby, I’m just carrying one. Let me do it.”

Jonah shakes his head. “Please, just… let me.” He gives you a small smile. “I know you’re not a kid. They should all be afraid of you, Madonna.”

He made good pancakes.

*

Will and Pope returned from their prayers in the sanctuary, Pope looking… Off. He looked ruffled, confused, his eyes a little glassy… maybe Will exercised the demon out?

Pope began his prayers. “Our beloved Madonna, Holy and Beautiful, our maternal bride, has suffered pain and scarring from the demonic attacks of the devil, we must pray for heeling over her body.”

Will’s hands reach for the back of your dress, lowering the zipper when you gasp, jolting away and turning back to him. “What are you doing?!” You whisper, eyes watering with panic. Francisco mutters Will’s name, but he ignores him, opting to pull you close. He cups your face, whispering in your ear.

“They need to see the wounds, Madonna. They need to see you’re healing, they're worried.”

“But… I don’t wanna be naked, Will.” You turn to glance at the crowd, catching Pope glare. You shiver. “There’s people here who made fun of me…”

His fingers lay your hair down. “It’s just your dress, Madonna. Don’t worry, we’re right here. Trust me.” 

Echoes of the past flitter in your head.

I’m going to touch you, just stand there and take it. Trust me.

Will unzipped your dress, the fabric pooling down around your ankles. Murmurs wave over your body, whispers from the people who loved you. Were they mocking you? Were they laughing?

Just down to her underwear, Francisco.

Your bandages were off, but the skin was marred horrifically. It was bad enough those in the back could see it spreading over your pregnant stomach. Were there jealous women in the crown? Your dorm mates that didn’t understand why you were chosen?

Will’s hands find the clasp of your bra, and you tense again. “Will?”

“Just relax, Madonna. Relax for me. Don’t worry.”

It’s just me, it’s just external, don’t worry.

When his hands went for your underwear, you didn’t protest. 

You stood naked, your scared body on display for the whole congregation.

Your husbands stood at your side, each laying a hand on your stomach as the crowd began to pray. You felt like you were being punished, humiliated. What did you do wrong? Your lip quivers, panic rising in your chest again. No, no you would not melt down here. You see a woman who was particularly nasty to you… she tried to make you eat a worm because you didn’t say hi to her when you were 10 and she was 12… You were in one of your “no talking episodes” as your dad called them, the playground was too loud, your new bra you had to wear adding a sensation to your skin you hated… she took it personal, and tormented you for the next 12 years. She was smirking. 

You feel Ben’s hand on your ass, coping a feel.

You think of Will’s lies.

You look at Santi, his eyes only on your stomach. 

You look at Francisco, not saying the prayers and looking at Be’s hand on your ass.. Did you and the baby even matter to him? Why was he so disconnected?

You didn’t feel sad anymore.

You were angry.

“Kneel.”

Your voice, while quiet, makes the four of them turn to you, surprised by you. But no one moves.

“Kneel. If you’re praying for my healing, kneel.” You don’t look at them.

Santi speaks. “We don’t kneel to you, Madonna. You kneel to us.”

Your body wants to shake, you want to fold like you do every time a boundary is crossed but you don’t. 

“I am carrying the savior. I am more important than your ego.” You say, firm in your stance and keeping your voice steady. “Pray to the divine mother to protect me, if you really want this child,” you turn to Pope. “And to forgive your sins.” You turn to Francisco now, his eyes wide with fear. “Get on your knees. I know you know how.”

There was a beat of silence, everyone waiting for Pope’s movement, you knew. Then, Francisco kneels to you. Then Will. Then Pope. Then Ben, only ever following in what the others do.

When they do, a hush falls over the crowd.

You raise your arms, shouting. “We pray for a hedge of protection around me and my child.”

A voice from the crowd shouts, “hail to the mother and the savior!”

All throughout the room, the congregation echos the sentiments, shouting your praises as the smile grew on your face. They adored you. They loved you. Standing naked wasn’t humiliating, it was power. You feel Francisco’s thumb caress over your bare skin. He smiles as he mouths ‘Hail to the mother.’

*

You were running high on the endorphins, even excited enough to ride Will’s dick despite your protruding stomach. It was an amazing high, knowing the power you held, the power to make Santiago- Pope, you mean- to make Pope kneel at your command… he owed you. He owed you this. When Will fell asleep, you were still wide awake, unable to get the giddiness out of your system… So you slip a nightie over your body, pulling panties on and sneak out of the room. Jonah had said he’d make you more pancakes tonight if you were hungry and boy, baby was hungry. Rey, as predicted, was snoring in his chair and you have to stifle a giggle as you creepy past him, bare feet light on the wood flooring. 

The kitchen was dark, no Jonah… maybe you should go get him. Turning on the kitchen lights you go to exit out the other door, the servants entrance leading to the rooms of Jonah, Iris, and the other guards, but when you did, Jonah was there.

Right away, you knew something was wrong. He wreaked of alcohol, looked like he hadn't slept in days and was piss drunk, stumbling into the kitchen so hard he crashed into you. 

“Jonah-oh- I… was gonna take you up on the pancakes…” You mutter, backing away. “But maybe I can make some for you, you seem-”

He catches your wrist.

“I don’t want pancakes.” His voice is gruffer than you ever have known it. Pressing you against the counter, he crowds you in. 

Your heart beat picks up, instincts telling you to run, run, run…. But you can’t.

“What… what are you…”

His lips brush your neck before you can blink, his movements clunky and strange. “I want you.”

You try to push him away, but he’s much stronger. “Jonah stop! You’re talking crazy, you haven't been well, please, just-” Again, you try to wiggle away but his hand grabs your waist. “Just go to bed.”

Jonah scoffs, laughing sardonically. “Just like that? I tell you I want to fuck you and you say to sleep it off? Jesus christ, do you have no survival instincts? At all?”

“Please… please stop touching me Jonah…” You want to stop feeling his breath on your skin. “I won’t tell anyone. Just stop!” The tears come, crying and scared and trying to smack his hands away desperately and still trying to push out of his grasp.

“You should be screaming, honey, what is wrong with you?” His hand grips your hip, and you need him away from your baby, now.

With a closed mouth scream, you kick his shin and the shock is enough for him to let go so you take off, but he gives chase. Once again, you are pinned to the door. You knew you could scream. You start screaming, and Rey, or Will, or any of the others will be on their way in seconds and you’d be safe… ‘’

“Why are you doing this?” You sob in his arms, his fingers entangling in your hair. He pulls on it, and you close your mouth intime to not yell.

His hand caresses down your arm, making you shiver and feel so, so sick to your stomach. “God dammit, have the broken every fucking piece of you? Is that it?” Why was he so angry at you? What did you do wrong? Did you tempt him? He hand on your waste again, he keeps almost moving it up towards your breasts or down to your ass but never going far. Jonah rests his forehead on yours. “Why won’t you SCREAM!” He shouts his last word so loud in your face, the strong smell of alcohol bursting on your skin and you shout out loud.

“BECAUSE THEY’LL KILL YOU!” Your whole body heaves, panicing and you feel you might throw up. “ThEY’LL KILL YOU AND I’LL LOSE MY DAD AGAIN!”

His face turns into something pained, and while his hand reminds gripped in your hair to keep you there, he pulls back just enough for you to see him run a hand over his wet face. Right before he slammed it through the wall. You couldn’t help it, your body forced you to scream before your mouth stopped the voice, Jonah’s fist curling tightening and pulling your hair against your scalp as you continued to shout. He continued to punch the wall next to your head.

When Will burst through the door, everything went blank. As soon as Jonah was pulled off you, your body slid down the wall where you watched Will pummel Jonah. At some point, arms were wrapped around you, but you couldn’t tell if it was Rey or Frankie. Only the smell of weed narrowed it down.

You didn’t hear much, your ears ringing as you watched blood fly out of Jonah's mouth. Muffles words weren't as loud as the beats to Jonah's body. You were sure other people were in the room... there was shouting... but you couldn't see anything except Jonah going limp, only jolting weakly at each slam of Will's fists.

You aren’t even sure how you made it back to bed.

Shout out to @hornystan for editing, our beloved Frankie in his formal wear

Okay. So that happened.

JONAH what are you DOING BESTIE??????

PLEASE leave your THOOOTTSS and THOUGHTS!!! Frankie kneelings? Madonna chaneling hr anger??? Jonah doing... ALL THAT!!!!!!!

What are we thinking?

love you all so much! I know theres a lot of bullshit happening in the fandom but just know, dont trust everything you hear. I know at the very least one person the stupid confessions page is attacking is genuinely a kind, amazing person who was in the right <3 If there is a writer you dont think is nice or friendly enough... just keep it to yourself or talk to a few friends. You dont need to air it out publically.

Lets keep it chill, I say to me and my uuhhhh 30 readers B)

ANYWAY

Im like 60 followers away from 1000 followers on this account and i have a fun event planned!!!

I did this poll befoe, but its been like 10 chapters soooooooo

Save the children (which has absolutely nothing to do with QAnon who hijacked their hashtag) our currently supporting relief efforts in the Congo above our listed some quick facts that I hope you’ll take a moment to read, and if you can afford it, please consider making a donation. I have made a small one, but if we band together small donations make a difference

LOVE YOU ALL!

How to keep up with the story!

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[barebevil]

Exordia spoilers

God and the devil and heaven and hell are all real

angels are real and one of them falls to earth and becomes a starship

political in the extreme, what else did you except from a seth dickinson joint

veeery heavy on jargon. very technical. very heavy on pop culture references too like justtttt on the edge of come on now but i think he gets away with it. i think its kind of charming

trying to think of a concise way to say that math is deeply poetic and romantic. I love math. seth dickinson loves math. if that that sequence of the metaphor of that one axiom in the monster baru cormorant genuinely moved you then i think you should give Exordia by Seth Dickinson a shot

its PACKED. its busy. a novel with little to no breathing room. all the time something happens. lots of really existentially devastating stuff

do you want do spend 20 hours with some of the worst most self righteous infuriating bisexual war criminals ever committed to the page? I say again, give exordia a shot. when i say the worst i do mean you'll hate them for real. but dont worry lots of really terrible shit happens to them. like you'll meet a guy and think god i hope he gets shot dead cus he really deserves it and then he does very much get shot. some of them more than once!

yes they're all horny. its a seth dickinson joint dont make me say it again

nobody in this is GOOD so if you want somebody to root for. well its full of people you can root for but you wont be doing it because theyre good you're doing it because to want them to stay alive so they can make each other worse and more miserable a little more

i wasnt kidding about the spoilers so like at your own risk keep reading. ok. ending this thing on a threesome was soooooooooo brave. and by brave i mean hot. and by hot i mean seth dickinson my friend seth dickinson said im sorry for doing all that and not letting my characters fuck even once. have a threesome. in the final 30 pages or whatever. idk the page number i listened to the audiobook. and i said thank you seth dickinson i love you i love you

and its funny. existentially depressing, kind of horrifying, really exciting. and FUNNY. like HAHA funny.

but seriously if you are particularly sensitive to themes of genocide or of nuclear extinction proceed with caution. i say this as someone who is quite sensitive to themes of nuclear extinction. it scares the shit out of me i'll be honest!!!!!!! there's a non zero chance that this book will make you sick to your stomach. several times. so like. beware

And i mean one thing was clear throughout the whole thing even when i got lost in some of the jargon. Seth Dickinson can WRITE. like he can WRITEEEEEEEE. he can write. goddamn

yes theres a milf

yes i have a crush on the snake alien

any questions?

[thefaefiction]

Skin. [Andy Biersack x Reader] [BVB]

PAIRING: Andy Biersack x Reader GENRE: Angst + fluff, comfort WARNINGS: Self harm references and themes SUMMARY: Andy comforts you after a depressive episode in which you relapse on self harm. Somehow, you're able to confide in him when things get bad.

A/N: this is super self indulgent, but i recognize that this isn't something i alone struggle with. i hope some others are able to find comfort in this piece as i did.

The good thing about Andy is that he doesn't try to tell me what I've heard already. He recognizes that telling me to stop wont work, and so he puts his efforts towards minimizing the harmful outcomes of my actions the best that he can.

And so, as the blood drips down my arms the way the tears roll down my cheeks, I silently scold myself and focus on Andy's hands. They work around my arm nimbly, wrapping it up in bandages and fastening it tightly to prevent it from slipping. My arm flinches at the final tug, stinging from the impact of the cloth to my cuts.

"Thank you," I whisper. I'm afraid if I speak any louder I'll burst into tears again.

"Of course," He speaks lowly, smiling at me. "Let's try to get some rest, yeah?"

I nod and stand up, following him into my bedroom. The room is lit dimly by a nightlight in the corner near my dresser, rain taps on the glass window above my bed and is softened by the wrestling of my duvet as we slip under the blankets. Sometimes I struggle to feel at home in this room, and yet Andy beside me makes me feel like I've reached heaven after longing for years in hell.

I lay on my side, one arm under his back and the other draped over his stomach. My head sits on his chest, listening to his heartbeat while his hand rubs my back. In the dark I can make out some of his tattoos on his free arm, tracing them lightly while I breath in his scent and let single, small, tears absorb into his black shirt.

I jump as a crash of thunder booms outside. Instantly Andy stiffens, and then takes a deep sigh when he realizes it's only mother nature. For someone who is dating a metal singer, I sure jump at the most insignificant of sounds. Sometimes I marvel in it, though, and I admire the beauty of being able to share such a quiet and intimate moment with someone who is often loud and active.

"Do you want to talk about it at all?" Andy says softly, caution in his voice. He never wants to overstep a line.

"Sometimes things just get too much," I say shakily. "It feels like the world is conspiring against me in every way possible."

I feel him nod. "I promise you that I'll be here to help ward off those things," He pauses. "Just know that when things start getting to this level I'm here for you." His hand runs up and down my spine, softly caressing my skin.

"Thank you," I whisper. "You mean a lot to me Andy."

He bends his head down and places his lips to my head. "You mean the world to me, Y/n." He kisses my hair, tightening his grip on me. "The sun, moon, and all of the stars."

"E.e Cummings," I comment on the quote.

He laughs, my head bouncing with his chest. "Get some sleep,"

I smile, holding Andy tightly. Right now, the events of an hour ago seem to be insignificant. It is a memory that I'll deal with later, and because the past cannot be changed I will chose to live in the present -- here -- next to the man I love and trust the most.

ⓒ THEFAEFICTION, 2023. DO NOT TRANSLATE, REPUBLISH, OR CROSS-POST WITHOUT EXPLICIT CONSENT.

[randomfoggytiger]

Milagro In-Depth (Part III): Denial and Truth, Art and Sacrifice

I'm incredibly proud of how this series turned out. As I was watching Milagro, I could not recall the nuances of the plot; but it was so well-written-- and the themes and character motivations and plot so clean and precise-- that a lot of my earlier assessments turned into unintentional but correct predictions for the rest of the episode (what a mood boost.)

And now, for Part III of Milagro (Parts I and II are here if you want.)

Padgett stares dispassionately at the newspaper, unmoved by Mulder’s jocular interrogation. He listens, nodding along at moments, as his rival spells out the murder plan: comb the newspaper for lover ads, pick a victim, then target them.  

Mulder is interrupted by Scully, frustrated when she interferes on behalf of the prisoner (“not without his lawyer.”) Padgett takes this moment to squirm hopefully into his muse’s good graces, attempting to reestablish the hold he’d briefly held over her by using truth as a key to unlock her guarded defenses. 

“I don’t need a lawyer. I’m telling you the truth.”

“And this is your confession?” Mulder barbs, tossing the heavy tome of purple prose at the suspect’s chest, darkly satisfied at the resounding thunk it makes. 

The room becomes tense: all three know this is the seduction manual of one Dana Scully; and Mulder is as angry as Scully is shamed. 

“No, that’s my novel.” 

“It’s all in there,” Mulder presses, “Every detail, every murder all laid out. How did you do it, Mr. Padgett?”

Padgett antagonisms with truth disguised as deflection: “If I sit long enough it just comes to me. I only knew what was in my mind and wished to express it clearly.” 

Scully spends the conversation in the corner, silent, confused at her own standing and confused at her confusion; but never wavering in her support of Mulder (though doubtful of his conclusions.)    

Mr. Padgett muddies the waters about his connection to Naciamento: “Jungians would say it’s the characters that choose the writer, not the other way around.” 

Scully here is doubting, crushed, afraid this is all her fault. She is a very doubting character: doubting herself, her motives, her intentions, her choices, her self-respect or adoration or love; and often the blame of others’ actions are placed on her shoulders whether by her own hands or by the indirect finger pointing of others. “I’m sorry” has become as rote as “I’m fine”, apologizing for a slip of emotion or a crack in her facade as easily as she stares down death and denies it shakes her. 

“So I guess you could argue he [Naciamento] directed me.”  

Mulder’s patience is wearing thin: “Which is the truth?” 

Again, Padgett dodges the question, rankling his interrogator; but his boast about how twisted words bring about not only those innocent people’s deaths but also a manipulative seduction of Scully-- “By their nature, words are imprecise and layered with meaning. The signs of things, not the things themselves. It’s difficult to say who’s in charge"-- frays Mulder’s last nerve.

He jolts from the wall, tossing aside caution in his rage; but Scully, deducing his intent with alarm, darts out to catch his arm, holding him back with a punctuated whisper (“Mulder….”) Her admirer sees this, finally focuses out to see the bigger picture, and knows that all is lost-- and never was-- to begin with. 

Both agents try to rug sweep the moment, Mulder pursing his lips with a slight “Yeah” and Scully looking down and away, embarrassed and more uncomfortable than ever. 

“Why, Mr. Padgett?” Mulder picks up where he left off smoothly. “Maybe that’s a question you can answer.” 

At this Scully looks back up, quietly demanding respect-- an explanation for his meddling toward herself. 

He answers with a crack in his voice, bravado vanished and touched to the quick with Mulder’s inadvertent stumbling on the crux of his issue and the reality of the loss of a chance with Agent Scully: “That’s the one question I can’t.” When the agents turn to leave, he arrests them in return-- “Agent Mulder, my book. Did you like it?” 

For his part, Mulder is disgusted by the question, not understanding the other man’s deeper meaning-- that this is Dana Scully, a flesh-and-blood woman who loves you and is existing in that loneliness without you. Padgett knows now that Scully will never be his because she has abandoned her metaphorical empty apartment to sit in Mulder’s, creating companionship between them. It may not satisfy, but it leaves no room for Philip Padgett’s, haunted as it is by the ghosts of his Naciamentos. 

Mulder reveals a bit more about himself, staring loathingly down upon the man who tore open his partner and spilled her secrets before he could discover them himself: “Maybe if it were fiction.” 

Scully lingers in the cell after Mulder turns heel and walks away, trying to recover from the inadvertent gut punch and avoid (while being very aware of) both men's eye contact.

She recovers her faculties, speeding after her partner and stopping him before he loses valuable time on a useless goose chase. Having tracked Naciamento, she relates that he has been “two years dead” to Mulder’s incredulous surprise-- which doesn’t last long, the wonder of a new unquantifiable variation lighting up a sparkle in his eyes.  

“Padgett couldn’t have done this alone.” 

In the absence of facts, Scully falls back to her comfort zone. “Well maybe he didn’t do it at all,” she demurs, not meeting eye contact. 

Mulder kindly-- but firmly-- insists, “Scully, it’s all on the page. How else would he know?”   

“Maybe he imagined it,” she quibbles, “like he said-- like Shakespeare, or Freud, or, or Jung.” 

They both know she doesn’t want to face this reality, the tip of the enormous iceberg that Padgett’s interference dug up and exposed. 

Scully’s voice takes on a frantic, scrambling quality as her justifications continue. “I mean, m-maybe he… maybe he has some gift. "M-maybe he has a clear window into human nature.” She so badly wants to believe that this clear picture of herself is divorced from any semblance of evil, struggling with the self-doubt like she does every time she’s faced with life-altering considerations of herself. To admit Padgett is evil is to put a stain upon his observations of her; and for Scully, who shrinks from giving villainous people any merit ex. (Luther Lee Boggs, Jerry Schnauz, and now Philip Padgett), she fears that if evil is so easily able to read her own heart that it must recognize a grain of its nature in herself.  

Mulder is not convinced and completely misses his partner's deeper psychological fear-- he is a man that must be told, in plain terms, what one means and what one wants from him. Scully's diffidence regarding her feelings is lost on him; because, while he can draw conclusions from human patterns of behavior, abilities are built on committed actions: “No one can predict human behavior-- no one can tell you what someone’s gonna do.” 

In desperation, Scully draws comparisons. “But isn’t that what you do, Mulder, as a behavioral profiler--” she finally looks up; and her tempo kicks up a notch as his immediate denial-- “y-you imagine the killer’s mind so well that you know what they’re gonna do next.” 

He puts his foot down once and for all, ending this charade by going for the jugular-- something that Scully has backed him into corner over by denying the facts before her face. “IF he imagines it, it’s ‘a priori’-- before the fact. I think that’s pretty clear from what he wrote about you.”  

Scully looks like a deer caught in the headlights. 

When she doesn’t respond (unable to), Mulder double checks: “You know you’re in here, don’t you?” 

She answers with a raspy, recovering-from-a-sudden-blow voice “Uh-yah, I read a chapter.” Scully pauses, needing to hear it through Mulder’s perspective (though her eye contact has slipped again)-- “What does he say?” 

Mulder huffs a disarming but defeated little noise. “Well let’s just say it ends with you doing the naked pretzel with this stranger on a bed in an unfurnished fourth floor apartment,” he teases, trying to disguise his own feelings and encourage her own with injected levity. 

Scully is horrified-- because there is a part of her drawn to empty, dusty apartments for unplanned rendezvous, and it’s a part of herself that she is ashamed of and thought no one else knew about (other than the black mark of Ed Jerse on her record.) It’s not Padgett: it’s what he represents-- the pattern of Scully’s ouroboros, her repeating cycle, another day lonely and neglected, another attempt for attention disguised as rebellious or open-minded dominance. Her last resort escape from the patterns of her fraying existence is exposed to be a pattern itself (just as Padgett will learn he has not achieved understanding and enlightenment because he does not wish to see.)  

Mulder’s mood sinks in the face of Scully’s fragile acknowledgement; and his pleasant demeanor drops in the face of consuming jealousy. “I’m assuming that’s ‘a priori’, too?” 

Scully tries to scoff away the moment, her deflection honed by the instinct to RUN. “I think you know me better than that, Mulder.” 

But Mulder hasn't taken the time to know her like this, running off on detours into the woods from post-cancer celebrations, expressing tender affection or even love under only extreme circumstances. She is too afraid to admit how much is her-- not all of Padgett's words, certainly, but enough to expose herself without equal, vulnerable reciprocation from her partner. (Again, script here for to read her thoughts on paper.)

The moment sits heavily; but Mulder, for once, doesn't let it slink away with deflection. His jealousy has rankled his possessive streak; and he is determined to make a powerful point.

Mulder marks this heavy moment forever by intentionally letting his partner get a first, undisguised glimpse of the sheer want that he has for her, more so than he has ever done. This is different from the depths of his devotion expressed in Fight the Future and the heartfelt gratitude and sweetness of his confession in Triangle. No, this is intense passion, piercing into Dana Scully’s soul-- not cutting away at it with selfish desire like Philip Padgett; but carefully slicing and disinfecting her defenses as it goes, mature love tempering unbridled emotion with true care and concern. Neither does he diminish its importance, not diluting the potency with a quip or lame joke. Mulder may not be confessing the secrets of his own soul to the same degree, but he is exposing an acutely sensitive layer of himself to her scrutiny.

He is confirming, silently, that he has and does see her; but Mulder lets the moment go, painstakingly tucking his emotions back into their repressed spaces. His fervor matches her own, simmering behind a similar facade; but Mulder keeps himself back from further pursuit, not yet able to healthily balance the encompassing nature of his quest and a potential relationship with his partner. The Unnatural, the very next episode, forces him to sit down and listen, finally grasping the importance of live, laugh, and love.

Shoving these thoughts aside, Mulder nods, accepting Scully's weak excuses; and adds, “Well, you might want to finish it.”  

He leaves Scully with the bomb of her own weaponized desires and stomps off to do the next imperative thing on his never-ending list of imperative things to do. Scully stares after him, the haunted eyes of Beyond the Sea shining in his wake. 

Padgett remains in the middle of his cell in the middle-end of the room, having witnessed their entire conversation, though no privy to what they were discussing. 

Taking up Mulder on his injunction, Scully pours over Padgett’s words more thoroughly before being handed an intercepted note from Padgett.  Her voice now takes over the narrative, giving voice to his ramblings-- a sign of Scully's wavering in regards to him. 

“Grief squeezed at her eggshell heart like it might break into a thousand pieces, its contents running like broken promises into the hallow places his love used to fill. How could she know this pain would end, that love, unlike matter or energy, was an endless supply in the universe-- a germ which grows from nothingness, which cannot be eradicated, even from the darkest of hearts. If she had known this-- and who could say if she would believe it?-- she would not have chanced to remain at his sad grave until such an hour so that she might not have to learn the second truth before the first: that to have love was to carry a vessel that could be lost or stolen. Or worse, spilled blood-red on the ground.”

Horror swiftly taking hold, Scully rushes up from her seat, frantically grabbing the paper and running off to alert the rest of the station.  

Two important things of note: 

#1. Padgett may be setting up his next murder, but he is also making very pointed jabs at Scully (“that love, unlike matter or energy, was an endless supply in the universe… who could say if she would believe it?", etc.) As mentioned above, Scully tries to cut out the idea of noble human nature from the vile monsters around her, always stunned and uncomfortable when faced with their parallels to herself and her beliefs. Padgett knows this and is invoking that fear as a stab at her. 

#2. Scully, unfortunately, did have to learn this lesson, twice: in the end of this episode and in S8.    

At the cemetery, Mulder walks through the crowd to his partner, neither having substantial proof or even a body to confirm Padgett's latest fiction. he begins to doubt the murder even occurred. Scully raises the point in Padgett’s favor (“Maybe his statements are proof that he’s telling the truth-- that he truly just imagined it”); but he still doesn’t buy it. 

Before Mulder gives up completely, he spots a suspicious man parking a funeral flower truck; and, trusting his instincts (something that Scully avoided doing, which led her deeper into Padgett’s apartment), he gives chase-- the infamous David-Duchovny-ran-so-fast-the-crew-had-to-film-this-on-a-motorcycle-scene-- tackling the unsuspecting gardener to the ground. This may not have been Naciamento (though Mulder only relinquishes his prey when Scully insists the man is innocent and works the grounds), but the incident leads him to further investigate the truck, discovering the body of the murdered woman buried underneath the rubble. 

Padgett is again playing with his narrative-themes-symbolism role discussed in Part I by having his rival kneel in the dying flowers of so many lost loves, a metaphor for the first Padgett Truth neither he nor Scully learn-- how replaceable and changeable Padgett perceives human love to be-- until they are forced to learn the second Padgett Truth-- that it can be torn away in the blink of an eye. When Padgett turns himself into his own hero, he takes it upon himself to teach these lessons and “save” Mulder and Scully from themselves, a divine revealer-protector-savior handing his amor back her heart by sacrificing his own. 

Back at the station, Scully testily asks how Mulder knew the body was on the truck. Just as snappily, Mulder mocks, “I imagined it,” doing a little hand-to-forehead gesture to nail home his point. His frustration ratchets up another notch when she brushes off any evidence of Padgett’s guilt (“What do you need, a signed work order? Of course he directed him.”)

Scully digs her heels in, insisting Mulder is making “critical assumptions without any facts.”   

Mulder, fed up with this routine, grabs her by the shoulders and swings her around until they’ve swapped standing positions-- probably as close to strangling Scully as he will ever come-- stating that she's now arguing from his usual "illogical" standpoint.

Scully doubles down further: “Mulder why couldn’t he have imagined it? Why couldn’t he have just been in the killer’s head?”

Mulder’s patience is at an all-time low with Scully-- not even his dismissal of her points concerning Diana Fowley were this intense.  “You read his book, you read what he wrote about you-- are you trying to tell me that he got inside your head, that what I read is true?” 

He knows that Scully has a wild, rebellious side to herself-- and he's often charmed by it. That’s not what he’s questioning. What Mulder’s grilling her on is if those words Padgett wrote to describe her were her, if she’s that desperately lonely, that drawn to purple prose allure, that willing to let her instincts slide to embrace a man who means nothing but to harm and control her. Padgett is only half-right in his descriptions; and Scully leaps at that loophole. But it locks her out of her position on the writer's innocence, as Mulder knew it would do. She can’t shake her doubts without betraying how much of the book was accurate; because then she would have to strip what little cover she has left in the aftershocks of the whole mortifying experience.

Mulder’s plan is to free Padgett and observe his communication with Naciamento; but he gets no support other than cooperation from Scully. She does, however, keep her partner always between herself and her former admirer, swallowing convulsively and subtly cringing whenever the other man speaks. 

Padgett walks away, the rejected suitor, head bowed and pride dashed, pausing in his departure to make one last statement: “I made a mistake myself. In my book, I’d written that Agent Scully falls in love but that’s obviously impossible.”   

Mulder is, again, sorely tempted to lash out in anger at Padgett’s audacity (closing his eyes and taking a deep breath), but corrals his resolve, inquiring what the other man means.

Padgett maintains ruthless eye-contact with his former rival: “Agent Scully is already in love.” Then, without a glance at Scully, he turns and leaves. 

Mulder darts his eyes away from Padgett to her, posture loosening and tilting sideways in his carefully concealed, shellshocked scrutiny. 

Scully is robbed of her last, treasured secret; and stares after Padgett-- a wounded soul crying out as it begins to bleed to death. 

Back at Padgett’s apartment, the heartbeat is back, pounding away as Naciamento himself walks through Padgett's apartment door, menace and measured cunning united to confront his creator. Padgett is terrified-- can't fathom how his creation is moving independently of his will, has tracked down and cornered him.

I touched on the importance of this conversation in Part I (see post here); but another key part of the Padgett-Naciamento dynamic is the buried desires that Padgett can no longer hide from.

“What do you want?” 

“I came to help you finish.”

“I can’t figure out your motive.” 

“You imagine me so perfectly in every way, so perfectly that you bring me to life,” irony dripping from Naciamento’s mouth, “Why did you chose me?”

“I needed a perfect crime. And she’s a doctor-- she’d be horrified by what you do.” 

Naciamento cuts through Padgett’s self-delusions: “I’m horrified.” Tiredly, he repeats, “I just want to know why I do it."

“So I could meet her,” Padgett twinkles, all selfish angles and inelegant confidence. 

Creation has besought  the creator and found him lacking. “That’s not a reason….It’s an excuse.”  

Mulder is attempting to listen-in next door, putting the final touches on a secret surveillance system and asking if Scully can hear anything. She cannot, in fact (“No, he’s just sittin’ there… staring.”) 

**Note**: Forgive the lack of pictures in this section-- Tumblr put a kibosh on the number of screenshots I could upload.

Padgett continues his negotiations with Naciamento, handing him the bit of manuscript he’s finished. 

“Now what is this?” his creation pushes.

“A big mistake,” he admits, stung, “I misjudged her character, her interest in me.” 

But the writer’s demon answers, “Now we’re on to something.” 

“She’s always trying to get his attention but doesn’t know it.” 

“Mmm,” Naciamento muses, mulling over the irony, “the old unconscious at work.”  

“I wanted to love her,” mourns Padgett, loss edging out over the sting or rejection. 

Again, Padgett wanted to love her, learning her catechisms and mythologies, her patterns and her mind, to try to love her, just as he ordered Naciamento to kill those people who had love: longing for and envious of the concepts and feelings he’d locked himself out of in his isolation. 

“No wonder you can’t finish this book, Padgett,” Naciamento sneers.”Why do I want their hearts?” 

“You tell me, why do you do it?” the creator challenges. 

Naciamento is a little impressed by this new ounce of aggression, but not deterred. “I’m your character. You tell me. My reason is your reason.”

“I want to feel love.”  

“Nnno…No. You had it right up to there. You were a tool of the truth.And when it finally arrives-- when I arrive-- you don’t want to see it.”   

Padgett is flummoxed. “But what is the truth?” 

“Man imagines that he, too, can open up his heart and expose the burning passion, the flames of charity like the Creator himself. But… this is not in his power.” 

“But… I have love in my heart.” 

“Yes!” Nacamiento pauses for emphasis. “As a thief has riches, a user of money-- you have it. But man’s only power-- only true power-- is to destroy it.”   

“Then what’s the end of my story?”

“There can only be one true ending. If it is to be perfect.” 

“She dies?” Padgett trembles-- stress and anticipation. Of course, his first thought of a perfect ending is the sacrificing of another person’s life, a tragedy to uplift the genius of his own work. 

Naciamento, the manifestation of Philip Padgett’s brutal cruelty and utilitarian pragmatism, nods approvingly. “It almost writes itself.” 

Scully is dozing a spell on the couch; but the clicking of the typewriter brings her back to life (ironic.) Her rustling draws Mulder's attention; and he sits down in time to see Padgett gather his papers and flee his apartment. Her partner flings out after him, leaving Scully to scramble into her boots and be intercepted by Naciamento.

Unbeknownst to Mulder and Scully, Padgett knows that Mulder will follow him out, so focused on the trail that he is blind to everyone else around him; and easily lures him down to the basement so his Naciamento can do his own will. But Padgett, while angered over her rejection, is still fond of Scully's symbolism, her usefulness to him. She was only ever a tool he tracked, became obsessed with, tried to polish up and become even better, so much so that it would teach him to hone and wield his own abilities-- learn to love her. And unbeknownst to Naciamento, his creator is rebelling at losing the power to guide his own story, plotting a grander, more violent end that “redeems” himself, destroys the villain, and blesses the love between the two people whose lives he tried to manipulate. And it helps that Padgett was able to one-up Mulder at long last, tearing him away from Scully only to mercifully restore her back to life. 

Mulder walks right into his trap, holding his suspect at gunpoint while the other man stalls for time, waiting for the events of his novel to play out like clockwork. 

Padgett’s venom shines out of his eyes at Mulder, menace and resignation blending as he unflinchingly confirms Scully will die, resentfully adding, “He told me how it ends.” Mulder doesn’t get the hint fast enough, wasting precious time reading over the manuscript while Scully’s heart is being scooped from her chest.

Mulder’s 20 questions are cut short when he hears the rapid fire of Scully’s service weapon, bolting back up the stairs while his partner continues her desperate attempts to save her life, shock and horror and despair warring on her features when the bullets pass right through her attacker. Padgett scrabbles for his pages, time running out for his plan to be fully accomplished. 

The gun has been exhausted; and Scully gives in to the torturous pain as she screams, long and agonizing, and fruitlessly tries to shove her attacker off. It's useless; and she dies on Mulder's apartment floor.

it's at this moment that Padgett successfully throws his manuscript into the fire, eliminating his own creation offscreen. 

A note: Scully, emotionally personal episodes, and fiery basement furnaces are quite the motif. Both anti-heroes (a loose term in these contexts) save her life from the true antagonist by "burning them alive" in the basement, flames consuming flesh both literally and figuratively. It's not until All Things that Scully reclaims fire as a purifying rather than destructive force, sitting in candlelight in the Buddhist Temple as God talks back.

Mulder has been running with all his might back up the way he came, concluding the third act with the hallway-and-door combo that Padgett utilized with both his obsession and her partner. 

When he swings the door open, armed and ready, the shock of seeing Scully's dead and bloody body on his apartment floor is so great that Mulder freezes. He stares, disconnected, waiting for his mind to clear and all of this to be a nightmarish hallucination; and floats rather than walks to her side. 

The dissociated-Mulder-grin appears, a plastered pull at each side of his lips tugging them wide as his mouth pops open to let in more oxygen-- the beginning stages of a classic Mulder hyperventilation.  

Mulder gazes down upon Scully-- a mirror of the flowerbed scene-- realizing how avoidably his partner was killed. He could have prevented her death if he’d taken the time to notice if she was following, if he had taken the time to notice her. Like the writer had learned as a penitent pupil at the feet of his own creation, Mulder comes face to face with this truth only in the face of its destruction. 

(But Mulder has still not learned this lesson, even when Scully pops up, traumatized but alive. As we see in The Unnatural, his focus has not shifted away from life outside this planet, still running off after the allure of the mystery while the mystery of the heart lingers behind with her tofutti rice dreamsicle.)  

The Mulder-Beyond-Panic Face melts into the sweetest “hey, it’s you” expression as Mulder, again, is tossed into a new, unbelievable reality. There is so much-- too much-- to process; so he remains open-mouthed and slack-jawed in his disconnected wonder, as if this were happening in one of his old, cheesy movies and he is rejoicing for its characters. 

Emotion starts to slip back, the firm reality of Scully clinging to his back and heart wrenchingly wailing banishing the last of the fog. A well of overwhelming empathy settles into his heart; but he swiftly squashes every other "selfish" thought or feeling, clearing his mind and closing his eyes to wholly focus on and comfort his partner. 

Milagro was Padgett’s lesson; and Mulder and Scully were the incidental flies snared in the convoluted web binding the writer hostage. Fixation is not knowing, staring is not seeing, and grabbing at the treasures of others is not giving or receiving love. He ponders on this as he lays, dying:

“A story can have only one true ending. Even as the stranger felt compelled to commit his final words to paper, he did it knowing it must never be read. To see the sum of his work was to see inside his own emptiness-- the heart of a destroyer, not a creator. And yet, reflected back upon him at last, he could see his own ending. And in this final act of destruction, a chance to give what he could not receive.” 

Padgett was a man who forced himself to be an artist, squirreling away in his Spartan apartment and waiting for his muse to waltz fitfully in and out of his life. He yearned for something greater, more divine, scrabbling at the hearts of other people in an attempt to understand his own. By personalizing the milagro story, Padgett hoped to win a heart for himself; and he targeted Scully, someone he thought would understand and grow to love him if she were shown how truly alike they were. When, at last, he realized that all of the deprivation and pain he has inflicted on himself and others will never draw him closer to understanding, to genius, to love-- that his attention and passion are not the milagro but a beating symptom of his failure-- his work was beyond his control. There was only one thing left for him to do: reclaim control as best he can by setting himself up as a hero in his own tarnished tale, giving "back" his fiery, beating heart to his own (unwilling) Mary Margaret.

Padgett's art-- as is love-- was the sacrifice; and it was, like the rest of him, worth nothing in the end.

May he never rest in peace.

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

[usedtobeguest123]

Encantober - Transformation

Hello, can I talk your ear off about the music in Encanto, specifically Bruno's instrumental themes????? What if I promise to give you some unsolicited character writing tips on the side....😁

So was on the struggle bus with my current WIP that focuses on Bruno, and wanted to reconnect with the characters in order to better ground my depictions of them. Rather than watch the movie (again), I decided to listen to the instrumental versions of Lin-Manuel's songs as well as Germaine Franco's amazing score, and wrote a little way longer than planned analysis to condense my thoughts.

I'm nerding out a bit about it all (okay, I'm nerding out a lot…), so I wanted to post it for my fellow Encanto lovers to nerd out with me. Today's Encantober theme is transformation, so thought it was a fitting day to post it :)

A rough musical analysis by a very non-musical music lover below the cut 😊

1) Songs: WDTAB/All of You

To recognize Bruno's main instrumental theme, it helps to start with the instrumental version of All of You. It's easy to pick out here, as it plays in the part where he is singing (and in one other place…more on that later). Listen in at 1:08. This is when Camilo would be singing "So, we're gonna talk about Bruno?"---and leads right into when Bruno sings for himself. His theme is a sort of boom dih dih dih boom dih dih dih boom dih…dih…dih (yes, those are the technical terms), a strong base hit interspersed with plucky-piano. 

What I love about this theme is how it mimics the movements of the character, and defines how he interacts with and perceives his environment.

Bruno often moves with big jerky movements sandwiched by small fidgets—hesitation, explosion, hesitation/doubt, explosion, very rat like. When a rat moves, it evaluates the environment, moves, pauses and sniffs some more, moves again. The tip-toe of the piano gives the feel of creeping or gingerly stepping, while the boom recreates the jerk into action, the push to make a big move, framed by caution. 

This says a lot about Bruno's perception of the world. He's grown to be wary of his environment, like a rat sensing out danger. If he's gonna move, better make it quick (maybe before he talks himself out of it!), and then pause again to re-evaluate if it's safe to keep going. He avoids detection, tip-toes, sneaks from cover to cover—you can almost see him moving when you listen, shoulders hunched, hood drawn. Bruno is wary of being seen, as being seen has meant danger to him in one way or another. Many fans have interpreted what this danger looked like in many different ways (from social ostracization to actual physical danger), but at the very least we can identify a high level of learned social anxiety that forces him to proceed with caution and keep a low profile when interacting with others (more on that later). Bruno has learned to tread carefully because of how others have perceived him, through the lens of his gift. 

Of course, once he's in the walls, fear of being seen takes on a whole new meaning. Discovery at that point would mean the consequences of discovery of the vision as well, and discovery of his shame—he never left/couldn't leave, and has been reduced to a rat in the walls of his own home.

When Camilo is singing, we hear a different feature associated with Bruno—the whine of a synth keyboard (I think?). It gives me major theremin vibes, and the song draws on that classic horror sound to drive home a "villain," seven-foot-frame image of Bruno, as portrayed by Camilo—-and, more importantly, as seen by the townspeople. 

Let's backup to WDTAB. If you listen to that instrumental version, you can hear that the synth sound picks up right away (on the line "Bruno walks in with a mischievous grin," no less!). It comes in and out, and even picks up a more complex melodic pattern here. It's the townspeople's fear—but it's not a horrific dread sound; it's actually a bit playful. Now, part of this is because it's a Disney bop, but I like to think that this also points to the nature of rumors—we get enjoyment from spreading them, and the Encanto-folk are clearly eager to dish. Listen to how creepy this guy was! Ooooo doesn't it give you the shivers?! It's like a fun ghost story around the campfire. This juicy piece of gossip is a favorite to share. 

BUT Bruno's actual theme—the one we hear when he actually speaks in All of You—doesn't appear until 1:33 of WDTAB. It's when the townspeople are sharing their grievances that we really hear his tip-toe, like he's tip-toeing through the minefield of their complaints. Now we can see the shapes he's learned to step around—you can almost see him weaving through their disgruntled narratives in the song. The music shows that here is where that learned social anxiety was formed.

Note that the theremin synth drops away when Isabela and Dolores sing their parts in WDTAB. When Isa sings hers, the plucked rhythm of the strings mirrors Bruno's plucked string style in his theme, though the melody changes. I think this speaks again to careful footing—they both share anxiety at being found out, being truly seen, and live life having to tiptoe their way through social interactions. Where as Bruno's plucked strings are jerky, Isa's are more graceful. When Dolores picks up, the plucked strings are replaced with a symphonic strings in a very romantic princess-esk style of longing. 

To tie things up, let's pull forward again to All of You. In this song, notice the theremin-synth sound also drops away as soon as Bruno speaks, and we don't hear it again. We are left with the real Bruno—meek, anxious, and full of nervous energy, the antithesis of scary. The theremin really only appears in Camilo's part, highlighting again the one character in the song who was really only there for the novelty of the rumor and the story telling opportunity, and had no memory of the real guy. THAT'S Bruno???

In the end of Bruno's part in All of You, the melody overtakes his theme, symbolizing his unconditional acceptance by his mother and sisters and his reintegration into the family. 

Also, let's not forget the nod to Let It Go! It's perhaps just an easter egg, but character-wise, I like to think it's also testament to his use of quirky meta-humor to deflect and avoid uncomfortable vulnerability. Does everyone in the room always get his jokes? Nope! But he can still disappear in the confusion!

Character Takeaways, for writing reference: 

When uncomfortable, Bruno often moves and speaks in quick, nervous bursts, interspersed with small fidgety movements.

Nervous energy reigns supreme. Bruno hides behind quirky, lighthearted, sometimes meta humor as a way to deflect and avoid being seen/made vulnerable.

Bruno has learned to literally and figuratively tiptoe around the townspeople, and eventually, around his own family. Post-movie/All of You Bruno is unlearning/releasing this social anxiety around his family through the experience of (unexpected) unconditional acceptance 

Isabela shares a similar underlying social anxiety to Bruno, though it manifests differently. They both have experienced having to tread carefully around other's expectations

Camilo is full of it. 😆 He feeds off of the environment to parody it, finding his drive in giving the people what they want to see—much like his gift. This can be a boon and a detriment to his character.

Knowing/hearing the real Bruno dispels the rumors that evolved in his absence

2) Instrumentals: The Rat's Lair, Tío Bruno, and It Was Me

I'm sure there is a lot more to say about these three pieces, but my main takeaway comes from the contrast between plucked strings/knocking percussion and wind instruments/bowed strings in Bruno's pieces, and how they reveal his layered character and his developmental arch.

In The Rat's Lair, we get Mirabel's (and our) first real impression of Bruno. Whereas the chase scene leading up to this piece is full of cacophonous, screechy strings (Chasing the Past), this piece has replaced those fearful sounds with plucked strings. We again get that image of tiptoeing, and it's playful. His room is full of mischievous rats, he's nervous and jumpy, and Mirabel is just trying to figure out what the heck is going on. We get a nice contrast between the expected Bruno (scary) and the real Bruno (quirky, but sweet and harmless). Also present are a bunch of percussive knocks, a nod to his superstitious/compulsive knocking.  

Contrast this with Tío Bruno. This piece plays when Mirabel first peeks through the crack to the dining room, finally getting a look at the real tragedy of Bruno's situation. Tío Bruno has the main Encanto theme throughout (we also hear it when the Encanto is being created at the beginning of the movie). It's a nod to the miracle, but it's mournful here, with parts in a minor key. The miracle has had tragic consequences for Bruno. Tío Bruno is full of woodwind instruments and bowed strings (as opposed to plucked). Rather than nervous tiptoeing, we get raw emotion, frequently underlined by a sustained guitar tremolo (??) that speaks to the familial tension driving it all. Tío Bruno plays when Mirabel gets past all the nervous deflection and connects with Bruno in a meaningful and vulnerable way. Under it all, Bruno is deeply sad, carrying the dismay of a miraculous gift gone awry and the tragic consequences of his last vision. 

Finally, we have It Was Me, which acts as a redemptive contrast to Tío Bruno. In this piece, the plucked strings return (he's nervous, confused by Abuela's unexpected embrace). It then transforms into a grand symphony as Mirabel, Abuela, and Bruno take off on the horse toward the ruined Casita, and then a chorus singing the Encanto theme when Julieta is reunited with Mirabel. It ends with the All of You theme. All of this follows the action of the scenes from Mirabel's perspective, BUT if we look at this from a Bruno perspective, apart from the scenes' action, we get a redemptive arc. 

It Was Me carries Bruno's nervous plucked strings (tiptoe, anxiety) to disappear in the Encanto theme chorus (miracle, hope). He is reunited with the Miracle (his family, the true gift) and the sadness of the Tío Bruno theme is changed into the hopeful chorus that the Miracle once was (major key?) as heard in the beginning of the film. From there, the song moves into the to the All of You theme as Bruno is finally on his way to being seen and unconditionally accepted, a true healing moment. 

Character Takeaways, for writing reference: 

Bruno hides behind humor to deflect away from those vulnerable places within him. Maybe it's painful, maybe it's an attempt to keep the burden from those he loves (a cool analysis on that here!), maybe he's afraid of being rejected for being weak. Regardless, he has a deep sadness hidden underneath the nervous, quirky exterior, and Mirabel is the one to break through to it

When Bruno's defenses are down, the music slows down, and so does the movements of his character. It's like the weight of it all catches up to him, and he drops his attempts to be upbeat and lighthearted. He eventually picks the jumpy style of movement back up again in the film, when Mirabel begins to feel the weight of the situation (OR NOT! It's a mystery, it's a mystery…). In sum, when he is nervous (most of the time), he is deflecting, humorous, playful on the outside, with a deeper sadness carried within.

3) WAIT WAIT MY FAVORITE PART as a FINAL note I swear:

Bruno's theme reappears in a strange place at the end of the movie, in All of You. At 2:56, he's no longer speaking; in fact, he's not even in the scene! What's happening in the song? It's none other than the moment that Dolores opens up to Mariano (I can take it from here, GOODBYE). Bruno's theme underlies Dolores' entire speech to Mariano, but then the theme transforms at the end, rising up and bleeding into the All of You melody.

Why bring him in here? I think it's a moment of redemption. Bruno's 'bad' prophecy for Dolores is cast in a new light. The time pining after the "man of her dreams, betrothed to another," has built up in her this momentum, manifested as courage to speak out and demand what she wants (Wake up and NOTICE me!). At the moment that Mariano verbalizes that he sees her, Bruno's theme transforms into the All of You theme. Dolores is seen, all of her, and the moment arises from the backdrop of her Tío's prophecy. Perhaps this symbolizes a freedom from the confines of the prophecy, but maybe...if not for the years of not having the love she longed for, would she have had the courage to seize the moment when it came? Bruno's prophecy comes true in a way they'd never imagined, and with that comes hope—the promise of transformation. 

End of essay 😁

People more musically inclined, please feel free to add to this! Also, please excuse any misuse of musical terms, my musical vocab is wanting. I am a non-musician in a very musical family, so when it comes to music, I often feel like I've missed something important… 😆

[benjaminthewolf]

Buster (Brawl Stars) Lol 2

My first ever commission story, written for @luci-voracious-blog

Ah, I’m so happy!

WARNING: DIGESTION, FATAL VORE, CHEWING, BLOOD, BONES IN STOMACH, CRUEL PRED

(And no this isn’t the uniquely difficult writing project I was talking about lol, this was already done when I posted that.)

****

Much like the vast majority of the humongous giant-oriented world you lived in, Starr Park was rather difficult to navigate around as a Borrower. The towering booths that ensured you were practically invisible to anyone attending business there, the game equipment that was many many sizes too large for you to use, the ride seating whose handlebars could not properly hold you, it was rather disheartening yes, but at this point, you’ve for the most part gotten used to it.

Your Borrower claws which allowed you to climb did slightly mitigate for these size disparities, but nonetheless, as it was all but impossible for you to patron this theme park like all of your much larger colleagues, any time you entered the park, your first and foremost priority was, naturally, making sure you weren't going to get accidentally squished, rather than figuring out what attraction you were going to go to next.

Of course, this was slightly less of the case once closing hours came ‘round, but nonetheless, scurrying your way across the cobbled grounds of the park, you still knew you had to be careful.

Thus, the moment that your Borrower ears subconsciously swiveled to attention upon the distant clobbering of oncoming footsteps, you immediately stopped in your tracks, so you may be able to properly survey the circumstances.

Crouching with caution behind a booth, gingerly grasping onto its brightly colored cloth covering, you listen rather intently as the constant, echoing beats of footsteps only continue to grow louder. You could tell there was only one set, and that this person’s gait was rather heavy in nature, but that was just about all you were able to tell. It wasn’t until the mysterious person in question at last entered your gaze were you able to pin an identity to their steps.

You give a vicious shudder as you fiercely suppress an instinctual squeak of terror. You knew this person. You knew this person quite well. As ever since the initial incident, the local Borrower community living around Starr Park had absolutely not shut up about him.

The moment the reports came in that one of your own had entered into the area past closing hours and hadn’t been seen coming out by anyone, (this combined with the fact that this particular Brawler’s car was the only one left in the parking lot at the time, and that the body was ever recovered), had lead the vast majority of Borrowers, you included, to come to the obvious conclusion. Whatever Buster had done to the poor person in question, it had most likely resulted in their death.

“Well hello there, short-stuff!” a voice suddenly called from above you.

Giving a sudden, frantic squeal as you instinctively leap a few inches away, you aren’t even given by Buster the proper time to contemplate what had just happened before he has wrapped all of his fingers tightly around your being, trapping you within his grasp, and leaving you fully at his own mercy as a result.

“Heh, so lost in thought back there that ya couldn’t possibly even notice the danger right in front of ya huh?” he sneers, bringing you closer to his face.

Internally cursing yourself for not paying attention to where Buster was when reciting his probable crime in your head, the considerably larger, sunglasses-donning, sleeveless Brawler proceeds to chuckle at your utterly helpless being for a while before at last speaking again.

“Welp, guess this means there’s only one thing left to do!”

Upon the utterance of this sentence, your heart skipped a beat.

“I am a little hungry after all, so, I suppose that would mean…IT’S TIME FOR ANOTHER SNACK!”

Your blood almost instantly ran cold. “ANOTHER snack”? What could that possibly mean? Buster, of course, could’ve just been talking about food, but…it was still, in fact, rather indeed possible that he was instead referring to…………your heart practically lurched forwards into your throat. No, there was absolutely no way he could be talking about THAT, could he? He couldn’t! He absolutely couldn’t! RIGHT?

Naturally having sensed your sudden terror, Buster gives a smirk. He does not follow up this action with any words, however. Instead, rather cunningly, he opts in an exceedingly calculated fashion for the considerably more explicit and thus more intimidating motion of simply opening his maw. His body seemingly knowing all about his scare tactic as well, decides to compliment the gesture as such with a couple of low growls emulating from the giant Brawler’s middle.

If only your poor brain even had the resources required to label your suspicions as all but confirmed. Casually tossing your limp, unresponsive, yet still definitely awake body straight into his maw, Buster immediately snaps his jaws shut, the resulting crash instantly forcing your being back to attention as you involuntarily spasm from the shock.

Lifting your head up off of the soft, squishy surface of the tongue, you just barely avoid scraping said head against the rough ridges at the roof as the reality of the situation at last begins to settle. Buster swiftly opens back up his jaws, leaving you as such with but a fleeting second of hope where it was indeed a possibility of leaping right out of the area, however rather quickly douses this hope, and thus any chance at all you had of making an escape, as his jaws come falling back down again, however this time, with one of your skittishly reaching arms placed right between them. You aren’t exactly able to feel the impact when it hits, but upon retracting the poor limb back inside the maw, you are able to immediately discern that there was indeed, right upon your skin, a considerable amount of blood.

Not even daring to give your poor body a break, Buster suddenly forces your body back downwards as the front of his tongue folds over onto your being. Now that he has a weight keeping your down, the relatively gigantic Brawler, calmly and cruelly, maneuvers your body back over to his teeth, a poor little leg getting caught between the mollaras, before at last coming down upon your tiny, fragile body once again, tearing up the skin upon said limb, and causing it to start significantly bleeding as well.

It is finally at this point that Buster decides he has had enough of playing with his food, and as a result, carefully lifts his tongue off from the bottom of the maw just slightly, in order to condition your for future caution and gentleness, before instantly and aggressively flinging your poor being straight off the muscle, flying en-route for the gullet, causing you to splat harshly against the plump, dangling uvula, before your lower half slides cleanly into the gullet.

Merley working off of instincts at this point due to having been tricked, the second you are able to take note of the smooth sack of flesh, your body knows what to do.

Buster is just about ready to swallow, thus squeezing you into his esophagus that would escort you all the way down to your doom, before, completely out of nowhere, he fiercely lurches forwards, and is forced to suppress a gag.

Swiftly shaking off the initial shock of the matter within the next few seconds, however, Buster is rather quick to realize that all you have done on the inside of his maw was grab hold of his uvula, holding on firm for quite literally dear life, therefore causing the now considerably more calm Brawler to, in a rather unimpressed manner, give a lengthy sigh.

“That seriously all ya got?” he scoffs out to your being on the inside with a rather dragged-out eye roll.

This little display of mockery is almost immediately followed up with a gulp, that which forces your lower half and midsection down into the esophagus, leaving only your upper half, head, and arms free from its squelching force. As this now reduced your little uvula hang maneuver to to that of a game of time, the clock constantly ticking down on you, all you are able to do at this point is tighten your grip further, although you implicitly knew this was all in vain, as Buster swallows again, causing the uvula to get rather stretched out from how far it was being pulled, as most of your chest is pushed through.

An audible, shuddery breath is suddenly heaved forth from your chest as you are suddenly able to hear the unmistakable squishy sound effect that was Buster swallowing once more. Knowing quite well you couldn’t keep hold on his uvula any longer, you are rather reluctantly forced to finally slide all the way off the thing as a result, your hands slipping off in spite of their firm grasps, causing it to bounce back to its normal hanging position, as your head and arms at last join along with the rest of your body, and are squeezed into the esophagus as such.

Buster on the outside gives a rather satisfied sigh paired with an extremely euphoric grin as he is able to feel your being getting rhythmically squelched down his throat. Placing a couple fingers upon the slight bulge you were making in there, Buster casually flops down and leans up against the stand you had been previously attempting to hide behind, preemptively patting over his continuously rumbling stomach as he does so.

Back on the inside, whilst the thick, goopy walls of the throat only continue on with their squeezing, you are suddenly able to pick up the solid, firm heartbeat resonating out from Buster’s chest, as well as the lower, rumbling growls stirring deeper within. It doesn’t become very long then, before you are able to notice the lower esophageal sphincter, as it at last opens up, and welcomes you into your doom.

The moment the sphincter squeezes you through, however, you are able to sense something instantaneously brush past your face, before it naturally subsides and you are left without it once more. Pretty soon, that mysterious essence is revealed to be that of air, as Buster casually lets out a belch that rings out through the park, and is even able to reach your ears despite your current position.

……………..Reach your ears, that is. Not your brain. Not even close to your brain. From the start, from the mere instant you had entered into this place, it had standed at absolutely no chance whatsoever.

Your assumptions, in the end, that had been conjured within the long, long, long ago of Buster’s clenched fist, had, indeed, ended up as being completely correct.

A barren, intact, lifeless skeleton lay floating aimlessly, without any speakable resistance, along the sloshing waves of the acids. Acids that, as the belch had no chance at reaching your brain, held no similar chance of reaching the organ at all, leaving you only able to sit yourself down against the squishy, slick walls of the churning, gurgling stomach, whilst all sensory aspects, including your rapidly fading eyesight, present around your being were nothing other than null. Nothing to see anymore, nothing to hear anymore, nothing to feel anymore, nothing, nothing at all. And most of all, there was no longer anything to think. Not now, nor ever again. Just as had been the truth for the skeletal Borrower before you, you, yourself, were nothing else, but bound to meet the exact same fate.

Meanwhile, back on the outside of the situation, Buster was…well…enjoying himself rather excessively.

Allowing his tongue to loosely loll out of his mouth while his drool dripped downwards until it splattered into a rapidly growing pool against the floor, Buster leisurely allowed his hands to rub themselves all over his midsection, throwing in the occasional pat, as, for the second time this occasion, he could feel something rising up in his throat.

Spewing out one last reverberating belch as it rings itself about, Buster teasingly smacks his lips, as his heavenly state of euphoria only continues to flow forth. He had been waiting ever so patiently for this moment, so, so patiently! And now, it had finally arrived. That moment being, of course, the moment a Borrower once again entered the park when it in and of itself, as well as all the establishments within were well past closing. And now, just as was promised, you would never, never ever, not within anyone’s wildest dreams, think a single thought again.

Your skull, at long last, has been seared clean. No flesh remains. At last, it is perfect.

The two floating bodies of cruelly striped remnants bob and heave along with the acid levels as they are rumbled and sloshed about. Cordially greeting each other in the way that only dead bodies can, the two skulls embrace each other, for there is nothing more than the other that can keep them company now. No sights, no sounds, no thought. This was their shared reality, and it was one they readily planned to enjoy, just as did Buster, with many, many, many… more to come.

[strawberrymilk4k]

MUSIC ASKS

I’m bored and I thought this would be fun to fill out

I don’t know who to credit this to because I found this on Pinterest

^ If you know who originally did this, then please reblog and credit them ^

also one more thing- I’ll be using this “🖤” emoji to indicate my favorites

______________________________________________________________

1. a song you like with a color in the title:

“Black Hole Sun“ by Soundgarden 🕳 ☀ (< I’m hilarious) 🖤

2. a song you like with a number in the title:

“7 Weeks & 3 Days″ by yungatita (it’s 2 numbers so I hope it counts lol)

3. a song that reminds you of summertime:

“Can’t Do It Without You” by Austin Moon (yes- the “Austin and Ally” theme song)

 4. a song that reminds you of someone you would rather forget about:

“Because Of You“ by Kelly Clarkson (my dad 🗑)

5. a song that needs to be played LOUD:

“AMERICAN HORROR SHOW“ by SNOW WIFE 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️ 🖤

6. a song that makes you want to dance:

“Magic Dance“ by David Bowie (from the soundtrack of “Labyrinth“) 🖤

7. a song to drive to:

“Those Eyes“ by New Coast (I can’t drive but I’d imagine it's nice to drive to) 🖤

8. a song about drugs or alcohol:

“Medicine“ by Daughter (this song fucking kills me-) 🖤

9. a song that makes you happy:

“In a Week” by Hozier & Karen Cowley (Hozier my beloved-) 🖤

10. a song that makes you sad:

“Lithium” by Evanescence (it’s so powerful yet so sweet and sad)

11. a song that makes you angry:

“Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve“ by Taylor Swift 🕛 🖤

 (GIVE ME BACK MY GIRLHOOD- IT WAS MINE FIRST) 

12. a song that you never get tired of:

“Breathe“ by Anna Nalick (it’s so- 😫) 🖤

13. a song from your preteen years:

“More Than a Band“ by Lemonade Mouth 😭🖤

14. one of your favorite 80s songs:

“Come on Eileen” by Dexys Midnight Runners 🖤

15. a song you would love to be played at your wedding:

“But I Do Love You“ by LeAnn Rimes (from the soundtrack of “Coyote Ugly”) 🖤

16. a song you like that is a cover by another artist:

“Lovely“ by Lauren Babic & Seraphim (originally by Billie Eilish) 🖤

17. one of your favorite classical songs:

“Für Elise” by Ludwig van Beethoven 

18. a song you would sing for a duet at karaoke:

“Dead Girl Walking“ by Barrett Wilbert Weed & Ryan McCartan 🎤🎤

(^ from the musical version of the original 1980s “Heathers” ^)

19. a song from the year you were born:

“Hey Ya!“ by OutKast (my birthday is February 4th, 2004)

20. a song that makes you think about life:

“Slipping Through My Fingers“ by Meryl Streep & Amanda Seyfried

(^ originally done by ABBA ^)

21. a song that has many meanings to you:

“We’ll Never Have Sex“ by Leith Ross 🖤

(the different meanings I see in it are: pure affection, asexuality, and TW-

trauma from sa and dealing with that during a relationship)

22. a favorite song with a person’s name in the title:

“Thérèse” by Maya Hawk 🖤

23. a song that makes you want to move forward:

“The Show Must Go On“ by Queen (and it never fails to make me cry) 

24. a song that you think everybody should listen to:

“That’s A Woman” by Celtic Thunders Ryan Kelly & Paul Byrom 🖤

(I recommend watching the performance- if you decide to look it up) 

25. a song by a band you wish were still together:

“I Want To Hold Your Hand“ by T.V. Carpio (originally by The Beatles)

(^ from the soundtrack of “Across The Universe” ^)

26.  a song by an artist no longer living:

“You Send Me“ by Sam Cooke 🖤

27. a song that makes you want to fall in love:

“Home“ by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros 🖤

28. a song that breaks your heart:

“Pretty” by Korn (it’s a ROUGH song so please listen with caution)

29. a song by an artist with a voice you love:

“Songbird“ by Naya Rivera 🕊🖤

30. a song you remember from your childhood:

“Little Wonders“ by Rob Thomas (from the “Meet The Robinsons” soundtrack)🖤

31. a song that reminds you of yourself:

“Eye of the Tiger“ by Survivor (I played a lot of Guitar Hero 😂)

(I went to a drag race when I was little and don’t know what happened but there was a long intermission between rounds, so I stood up on the bleachers and sang “Eye of the Tiger” for everybody’s entertainment. I got a “Cars” poster to color in, by a guy who worked there and I was SO happy- to this day I don’t know if he did it because he thought I was funny or to get me to shut up lmao)

______________________________________________________________

okay! this took a lot longer than I planned but I’m all done :) I hope y’all enjoyed 

if you want to check out my Spotify it’s “strawberrymilk4k” 🖤🖤

[byjillianmaria]

The Songbird's Refrain: A Playlist Breakdown

Listen. Listen. I’m nothing but self-indulgent and a little obsessed with my own books, so I’m breaking down my playlist song choice for The Songbird’s Refrain, similar to how I broke down the playlist for There’s Magic Between Us on Goodreads a while back. Why? Because it’s spooky season, and this semi-spooky supernatural suspense deserves some love. Also? Because I can. So, let’s go!

WARNING!!!! The following contains some pretty big spoilers for The Songbird’s Refrain, my debut novel. Proceed with caution.

Chapter 1: Bittersweet by Myuu

This was on the instrumental playlist I had on repeat while drafting this book, and it felt like the right place to start this playlist. I always pictured it, like, if this was a movie, a song like this would be playing over the opening credits while Elizabeth starts her walk home from school in the first scene.

Chapter 2: All the Rowboats by Regina Spektor

This is a song about a museum with a sinister vibe. The exhibits that Elizabeth finds herself exploring in this chapter aren’t… not that. Especially the exhibit with the paintings call to mind this song. Not to mention, violins are a recurring motif in this book (and in this playlist, for that matter), so having them mentioned in the lyrics is sort of fun.

Relevant lyrics: God, I pity the violins in glass coffins / They will stay there forever and a day

Chapter 3: Danse Macabre by Camille Saint-Saëns

Listen. Is The Mistress literally dancing to Danse Macabre? No, the song is Plot Relevant and doesn’t exist in our world. Do I imagine it with exactly this level of intensity and Extraness? Of course. I mean, this is the Mistress we’re talking about. So, yeah, this song is associated with her dance in chapter 3.

Chapter 4: Circus Monster by CircusP

By now, I think most people know that this book started out as a vocaloid fanfic based off of the song Dark Woods Circus. While that song isn’t really relevant anymore, I knew I couldn’t get out of this playlist without including at least one vocaloid song, and this one called to mind the feathered woman that Elizabeth sees in act 4.

Relevant lyrics: Show must go on, it’s time for our act / I want to see you

Chapter 5: Morbid Fascination by Midnight Syndicate

Another instrumental that was on heavy rotation during drafting. I think this song is really intense, with creeping dread, which I think suits the scene where Elizabeth wakes up in the cage perfectly. This is the chapter where shit gets real, for lack of a better word. I wanted to find a song to match it.

Chapter 6: Body by Mother Mother

Elizabeth finds feathers growing from her skin, and realizes that she’ll end up like the feathered woman she watched die. This chapter is where the body horror starts, and when I think of body horror, I think of this song! Plus, we get those intense violins again. Keeping the playlist on theme with this intense, visceral song.

Relevant lyrics: Take my face / and desecrate arms and legs

Chapter 7: The Swan by Daniel Jung

A noticeable shift in tone here! But still with those thematic violins. This chapter introduces the magic dreams into the mix, so I wanted a song that was soft and romantic to suit that… subplot? Trope? Whatever you want to call it, this song is it. I had it playing a lot while I drafted the dream chapters, especially the ones from the woman’s POV.

Chapter 8: Ethan’s Waltz by Abel Korzeniowski

A late addition: I went searching for this one when I put the chapter-by-chapter playlist together, because I didn’t have any in my drafting playlists that suited this one. I wanted a song that matched Elizabeth’s mood during the first show — hopeless and a little humiliated. But there’s some sweetness in there too, for the dream at the end of the chapter.

Chapter 9: Working for the Knife by Mitski

In this scene, Elizabeth talks a little more with Mark about how he works for the Mistress, and also has a brief connection with Violet. I think this song captures the energy of what those two must feel: they’re not literally trapped like Elizabeth, but that doesnt mean they have an easy way out from under the Mistress’s thumb, either. They both deal with it in their own way.

Relevant lyrics: I start the day high and it ends so low / 'Cause I'm working for the knife

Chapter 10: Lights - Shook Remix by Ellie Goulding

I had this song on my character playlist and assigned it to Madame Selene. It felt right to put it here, where we really see her acting as an ally to Elizabeth. It’s a really lovely scene, because it’s what sets Elizabeth up on the road to hope.

Relevant lyrics: And so I tell myself that I'll be strong / And dreaming when they're gone

Chapter 11: Wolven Storm by Marcin Przybyłowicz

This chapter is a bit unique in that it’s all dream, and it all takes place in the distant past. So this song is sort of wildly different in tone to match that. But its sort of wild how perfectly the lyrics match this bittersweet, tragic love story that we see unfold between Alice and the Woman.

Relevant lyrics: Rend my heart open, then your love profess / A winding, weaving fate to which we both atone

Chapter 12: Drain the Blood by The Distillers

And immediately after that gentle, medival song, we get… hardcore punk? The mood whiplash cracks me up, to be honest. But this is a song I associate heavily with Bridget, and she’s fully on her bullshit this chapter, so it works out. I just really love how rough and edgy it is… like a certain knife enthusiast.

Relevant lyrics: In a city that swells with so much hate / You seem to rise above and take its place

Chapter 13: Moonlight Sonata by Ludwig van Beethovan

In my head, I referred to this as the montage chapter. Over the weeks, Elizabeth struggles to remain hopeful as her body becomes more and more warped. I picked this song because I think it captures that quiet sadness well, and it’s one I associate with Madame Selene, who offers that bit of hope at the end!

Chapter 14: Sweet Dreams by Emily Browning

And in this chapter, we have the Mistress somehow getting even more awful. So of course, we needed a song that captured where she’s at. I picked this cover of Sweet Dreams because I think it’s got the Mistress’s whole vibe down better than the original — it’s more quietly sadistic than the original, and almost coy.

Relevant lyrics: Everybody’s looking for something / Some of them want to use you

Chapter 15: Mountains by Message to Bears

We get a lot of information in this chapter, delivered to us by Mark. And since this chapter is so Mark-heavy, I decided to pair it with a song I associate with him and his backstory with Violet. It seemed especially fitting, since this is the chapter where we learn why they ran away and joined the Mistress in the first place.

Relevant lyrics: And we could run away before the light of day / you know we always could

Chapter 16: Null Moon by Akira Yamaoka

In this chapter, Elizabeth reckons with the magic that’s been all around her since the start, and begins to try and use it for her own ends. I really love how dreamy and surreal this song is, which sort of matches how weird the dream is as Elizabeth works together with the Voice to gain some small power over the Mistress.

Chapter 17: Assembly Line by Mary Lambert

This is a song I heavily associate with Elizabeth’s arc in general — a song about learning to stand up for yourself against impossible, terrifying odds. I decided to put it here, in the scene where Elizabeth does magic for the first time, because it’s such a major turning point for her.

Relevant lyrics: This isn’t love, the world that you have created / I’m standing my ground while the earth shakes

Chapter 18: Uninvited by Alanis Morissette

Coming off of the high of the last chapter, we get even more pushback from Elizabeth as she uses her powers against the Mistress for the first time! This song has such a powerful energy, and I really wanted to capture that same energy in this scene. Elizabeth is fighting back, and it feels good.

Relevant lyrics: Must be strangely exciting to watch the stoic squirm / But you, you’re not allowed

Chapter 19: Control by Halsey

Of course, things can’t be that easy. The Mistress isn’t going to go down without a fight, and in this chapter, we see her asserting control in a very cruel way — not by punishing Elizabeth, but poor Mark instead. I wanted a song that really captured how menacing the Mistress could be, and this one fit the bill.

Relevant lyrics: Goddamn right, you should be scared of me / who is in control?

Chapter 20: Ghost Song by Max Ablitzer

This is a song I associate with the ultimate fate of Alice and the Woman, which we see in a quite violent scene in this chapter. But the tragic, sad tone also fits the scene where Elizabeth learns what’s become of Mark.

Chapter 21: Have a Seat Misery by Shayfer James

Well, Elizabeth is pretty miserable for most of this scene. But there’s a certain energy to this song that I think fits where we end up. This chapter ultimately builds up to Violet’s involvement, and marks a huge shift in tone. I feel like the instrumentals in this song really sell that feeling that something is coming.

Relevant lyrics: It seems your hand’s a bit shaky / we’ve got damage to do

Chapter 22: The Last Bird by Zoe Keating

Elizabeth is out of her cage and she’s doing… not fine, actually! Jokes aside, I like this song for its energy and sort of hopeful vibe. Even the title matches — since this is the chapter where Elizabeth really commits to stoping the Mistress, which would make her the “last bird” captured by her.

Chapter 23: The Piano Duet by Danny Elfman

I had this song on my drafting playlist, and it always reminded me a little of Violet and Mark. It’s melancholy and sweet all at once. Since Violet reminisces about star-gazing with Mark in this chapter, I thought it would fit.

Chapter 24: The Mouse and the Model by The Dresden Dolls

I’ve always thought of this as the Violet song, so I knew I’d pair it with at least one of her big chapters. Since in this one we get her really getting involved with helping Elizabeth beat the Mistress, it made sense to me to put it here.

Relevant lyrics: We’ll risk it, we’re desperate for someone to trust / Let’s start a new heart

Chapter 25: City of Tears by Christopher Larkin

For the dream that Elizabeth has in this chapter, I knew I needed a song that sounded almost magical. The quiet choral elements of this one seemed to fit the bill — it gives the whole thing an ethereal sort of quality that matches the tone of the scene where we see the Mistress, Alice and the Woman all doing magic together.

Chapter 26: Music Box - Silent Hill 2 by Erutan

In this chapter, we go through the exhibits of the show again, but this time with the context of knowing who exactly made those paintings, who wrote those poems, and who stars in those videos. I love the quiet vocalizations in this cover — I can almost picture them as souls of the girls who came before Elizabeth, still trapped in their lanterns.

Chapter 27: Howl by Florence + the Machine

This song is the Mistress’s main theme song, so I put it here, where she seemingly “triumphs” — for now, anyway. It’s easily one of my top 5 F+tM songs, too. I just love how dark and intense it is. A perfect fit for our antagonist!

Relevant lyrics: I hunt for you with bloodied feet / Be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers

Chapter 28: Duet by Omori

This is probably my favorite chapter in the book, and it was really hard for me to pick a song to go with it! But I decided to use this one, because it’s such a moving, emotional piece. I can hardly listen to it without crying! And it really suits this scene, where Elizabeth chooses to live and fight another day.

Chapter 29: A Dark Congregation by The Hush Sound

Here, Elizabeth and Violet have to face the consequences of their actions… with poor Violet being on the receiving end of the worst of it. So, we have this dark, moody song about a funeral, but there’s a hint of defiance in the lyrics, too. The same defiance that Violet shows, and that Elizabeth does her best to cling to.

Relevant lyrics: Save me, I am swallowed by the guilt of this / We will not let time erase us

Chapter 30: Thunder Love by Little Dragon

Here’s another song I associate with Alice and the Woman. I thought it was a sweet song to put with this scene, where we see a moment of real connection and intimacy between them. I just really love how dreamy and ethereal it sounds!

Relevant lyrics: My past erase as we lay in in a daze / I’m gonna love until the bitter end

Chapter 31: Reunited Dreams by Lexie

This was another late addition while making the playlist! This is the chapter where Elizabeth finds herself at the “do-or-die” moment, quite literally. So I wanted a song that captured the mood she finds herself in. And, of course, I wanted violin featured prominently, since that’s such a thematic instrument in the book! And this playlist, for that matter.

Chapter 32: I Will Follow You Into The Dark by Daniela Andrade

You’d think I’d pick a more triumphant song for a big, climactic battle! Instead, we’ve got a sweet acoustic cover of a Death Cab for Cutie song. But it really captures the heart of Elizabeth’s headspace in this moment, which is grounded in a lot of love and compassion. Also, fun fact: I imagine Elizabeth’s singing voice to sound a lot like the singer in this cover!

Chapter 33: My Friends by Oh Wonder

We’re in the final stretch now. Elizabeth ties up some loose ends with those that are left at the show, and says goodbye to some friends and allies. This chapter is so incredibly bittersweet to me, and I wanted to pick a song to match that energy.

Relevant lyrics: Oh my friends, I am heavy / I can’t forget it, all of the love

Chapter 34: I Will by Mitski

And here, at the end of it all, we have Elizabeth and the Girl — finally together, and figuring out exactly what that means for them. This is such a sweet and hopeful beginning for them, and after everything, I wanted to leave them with a song that matched it… so I picked this one, which is probably one of my favorite songs of all time, ever. I really think it captures what they want to be for each other, after everything.

Relevant lyrics: Stay with me, hold my hand / there’s no need to be brave

[onigiriico]

Milgram 2nd Trial - Voice Lines TL

Milgram’s second trial is starting soon and they updated their official website with new voicelines, so I sat down and tried to translate them! (There might be some spoilers for season 1 / especially the results of the first trial so do proceed with caution)

I linked each character’s profile in their name in case you’d like to check them out yourself!

The themes of the voice lines are:

(01) greeting

(02) their reaction to whether they were voted forgiven / unforgiven

(03) things that changed between the two trials

(04) their feelings about the “extraction of songs”

(05) their feelings about Milgram

⬇️ translations below the cut ⬇️

Haruka

01 - “Ah, good morning, warden-san! I’m Haruka Sakurai. Hm? What’s wrong…? Is there something strange about me?”

02 - “That means I’m forgiven, right…? It means my feelings were acknowledged, right? I’m really happy…!”

03 - “There’s a different atmosphere to me…? Oh, like the hair pins and the clothes? Mu-san picked them out for me! How is it? Mu-san is really kind. She always looks out for me!”

04 - “Um, it felt like I was being watched by a lot of people… Everyone said that it felt creepy, but it made me happy. Weird, isn’t it?”

05 - “Milgram is really fun. Warden-san watches over me a lot, and Mu-san takes care of me… I’m starting to think that maybe I don’t have to return to the outside world that never actually looks at me.”

Yuno

01 - “Good morning, warden-san. My name is Yuno Kashiki. Do you actually remember me?”

02 - “Yay! Warden-san, thank you for forgiving me! …Is that what you wanted me to say?”

03 - “Hm? I haven’t really changed. Hmm… I’ve gotten a bit colder is all. It’s a bother.”

04 - “It really gets through to you, doesn’t it? That everyone expects you to have some sort of sad reason to have done something like this. Does there have to be one? There’s no way I’d have one. That’s stupid.”

05 - “Being forgiven or not being forgiven… it’s just playing pretend. None of that will get me anywhere. If it’s all just talk, there’s no way.”

Fuuta

01 - “Kajiyama Fuuta. It’s been a while, hasn’t it, warden. What’ve you been doing the whole time until now?”

02 - “Why… why am I a murderer?! There might not even be a connection between the things I did and their death at all!”

03 - “I got these injuries from her… from Kotoko. Seriously, I don’t get what her deal is! …(gasp) Don’t tell me you had something to do with that?”

04 - “It felt damn awful. The whole time… the whole time I felt like I was being judged… What did I do?! I… I just…”

05 - “I’m not in the wrong… I think. If the things I did are unforgivable, then what about the things you’re doing right now?”

Muu

01 - “I’m Kusunoki Muu. Warden-san… it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

02 - “Huh? That's a given, isn’t it? I haven’t done anything wrong, after all. But… I had faith that you’d understand me, warden-san. Thank you.”

03 - “It was really scary at the beginning, but now it’s nice and laid-back. And also… Haruka-kun is really nice! He’ll listen to anything I tell him.”

04 - “It seemed like we were just aimlessly talking(?), but things like that are unnecessary. It’s fine not to think about it. You saw it, right? I didn’t do anything wrong - right?”

05 - “I’ve been starting to think that maybe I’d like to stay here forever… The outside world only ever does bad things to me. Though, I’d be a bit sad that I wouldn’t get to see papa and mama again…”

Shidou

01 - “I’m Shidou Kirisaki. It’s been a while, Es-kun. A lot has happened while you were gone.”

02 - “You forgave me, huh. Even though I asked you not to forgive me… Why is that? I’d like to hear your thoughts.”

03 - “There have been conflicts between the prisoners, and some have been  severely injured in the process. I don’t want to see lives being lost in vain. As someone who knows how to do surgeries, I have to do anything to help them.”

04 - “...I don’t understand. Why did you forgive me? It’s as I told you. I’ve taken many lives. You had a look at the song and the footage, didn’t you? [So] why?”

05 - “I said I didn’t want you to forgive me. But… it’s a fact that I could only save the other inmates because you forgave me. I think I’ll stop asking not to be forgiven. If I’m not alive, there is nobody to save their lives.”

Mahiru

01 - “Mahiru Shiina. It’s been a while, Es-kun. I missed you…”

02 - “You didn’t forgive me, huh… Does this mean that my love is a sin? Does this mean that my life has no meaning? Well, I already knew that though… ever since that day…”

03 - “[I got] these injuries while you [Es] were sleeping… I think it was Kotoko-chan, probably. If Shidou-san hadn’t helped me, I would’ve probably died. …It doesn’t hurt! Compared to the knowledge that you couldn’t forgive me… not at all…”

04 - “The whole time, I heard voices that were doubting and accusing me. I always believed that love could win over anything, but… it’s tough knowing that you’re not wanted, isn’t it? Haha…”

05 - “Spending my time at Milgram, I’ve really grown to love everyone here. I love you as well, Es-kun! But… me loving people can’t be forgiven, right…?”

Kazui

01 - “Morning. …Haha, you’re the type to space out after waking up, huh, warden-san? I’m Kazui Mukuhara. Remember me now?”

02 - “I was… forgiven by you, is that right? I feel somewhat conflicted about that… No, I wonder, maybe I’m just saying that out of concern for my own status.”

03 - “I myself haven’t really changed at all. Yuzuriha-chan ended up attacking some of the other inmates. I managed to protect Fuuta, but with Shiina-chan, I didn’t make it [in time]... [She (Kotoko) / I] did a terrible thing.” (T/N: Kazui uses no personal pronouns in the last sentence, so it’s unclear whether he’s condemning Kotoko’s actions or blaming himself for not being able to intervene fast enough)

04 - “I’m sure I’m just a very good liar. Ah, it’s alright, I’m sure you’ll uncover my lies next time. When that time comes, I’ll accept any thoughts and sentiments of yours with open arms.”

05 - “I don’t know what Milgram aims to do, but I will make sure to stop any fights to the best of my physical abilities. Ah, this isn’t me trying to give you a reason to forgive me, though.”

Amane

01 - “Amane Momose. Don’t let me down any more [than you already have].”

02 - “You chose not to forgive me, yes? If you don’t reevaluate your judgement, we will not be able to forgive you, either.”

03 - “Kirisaki Shidou… His actions go against our taboos [/rules]. I gave him a warning, but if he continues, I’ll have no choice but to take action myself. If you don’t want that to happen, you’ll have to stop me. You’ll be able to do that - right?”

04 - “Seriously… even though I had such high expectations of you. You’re anything but understanding.”

05 - “All of us… and all of Milgram couldn’t reach a compromise.(?) Milgram is an unjust world. However… we will forgive it for now. We’re kind, after all. Take your time to give it some thought.”

Mikoto

01 - “Ah, warden-kun… It’s been a while. …Ouch, my head hurts…”

02 - “So I wasn’t forgiven, huh? This is mean, seriously. I’ve been telling you [the whole time] that I haven’t done anything. I hate this…”(?)

03 - “Somehow, my whole body hurts… I feel worn out, and my memory is missing [/ foggy?] in places. Well… I’ve experienced that before every now and then, but I feel like it’s been getting more frequent.”

04 - “It’s just so much that I don’t understand. Honestly. Why do I have to face this kind of fate…? I can’t do this.”

05 - "Oi, warden brat. Don't make me (ore) deal with any more stress than this. If it's to protect me (boku), I (ore) will do anything." (T/N: he switches between pronouns here)

Kotoko

01 - “Good morning, Es. I’m Kotoko Yuzuriha, your fang.”

02 - “Heh. As expected, you wanted us to work together, huh? I’ll be answering to your resolve and your expectations. With all the strength I have.”

03 - “I gave the prisoners that you didn’t forgive what they deserved. Going along with Milgram’s system, I didn’t go all-out yet. I figured you’d need some more time to think about it too. …What’s with that face?”

04 - “I did tell you to follow your intuition and that I’d leave things to you, but you’re really going easy on them. I think I would’ve forgiven less people. Hmph, if only I was the warden [in this place]... Well, no ill feelings, I guess.”

05 - “I’ll hold still for now and wait for your next judgment. I’ll make my move after that. Don’t worry. I’m on your side. Together, let’s punish anyone who has committed unforgivable evil!”

[ohisms]

𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑯 𝑶𝑭 𝑨𝑵 𝑶𝑷𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑰𝑺𝑻 .    (   lyric starters  originating  from  the  works  of  grandson .   mature  &  dark  themes  are  present ,   tread  with  caution .   ) 

❛  tell  me  what  you’re  trying  to  hide .  ❜ ❛  look  me  in  my  eyes ,   tell  me  everything’s  not  fine .  ❜ ❛  i’ve  got  a  secret  i  need  you  to  keep .  ❜ ❛  beg  me  for  mercy .  ❜ ❛  i’m  not  so  brave ,   &  i’m  not  so  smart .  ❜ ❛  i’m  doing  you  a  favor .  ❜ ❛  i  did  a  lot  wrong  that  i  can’t  make  right .  ❜ ❛  i  can’t  cope .  ❜ ❛  there’s  no  difference  between  you  &  i .  ❜ ❛  there’s  no  way  of  stopping  this .  ❜ ❛  is  there  anybody  out  there  that’s  paying  attention ?  ❜ ❛  i  try  to  do  my  part .  ❜ ❛  how  did  we  get  here ?  ❜ ❛  one  day  i  know  i’ll  regret  it .  ❜ ❛  i’m  in  love  with  the  pain .  ❜ ❛  idle  hands  are  the  devil’s  best  friend .  ❜ ❛  won’t  you  help  me ,   please ?  ❜ ❛  we  might  not  make  it  ‘til  the  morning .  ❜ ❛  i’m  a  sick  joke .  ❜ ❛  we’re  stronger  when  we’re  together .  ❜ ❛  it’s  the  same  shit ,   just  a  different  year .  ❜ ❛  i’m  terrified  none  of  it  matters  at  all .  ❜ ❛  i’ve  gotta  get  out  of  here  as  quick  as  i  can .  ❜ ❛  there’s  a  knock  at  your  front  door .  ❜ ❛  beg  me  for  mercy .  ❜ ❛  do  exactly  what  you’re  told .  ❜ ❛  don’t  listen  to  them ,   you’re  not  free .  ❜ ❛  there’s  nobody  that  can  stop  me .  ❜ ❛  i’ve  got  one  life  so  i’m  gonna  live  it .  ❜ ❛  i  don’t  want  to  move  on .  ❜ ❛  where  the  fuck  do  we  go  now ?  ❜ ❛  my  heart  keeps  fucking  up  the  motherfucking  plan .  ❜ ❛  i’m  done  playing  games .  ❜ ❛  nobody  make  a  sound .  ❜ ❛  the  higher  the  crime ,   the  harder  the  fall .  ❜ ❛  everybody  told  me  ever  since  i  was  young ,   i  should  bite  my  tongue .  ❜ ❛  i  don’t  know  where  i’m  gonna  go .  ❜ ❛  i  will  not  apologize .  ❜ ❛  i  think  it’s  time  for  a  change .  ❜ ❛  get  down  on  the  ground .  ❜ ❛  sometimes  the  bad  guy  wins .  ❜ ❛  this  is  my  one  shot  at  redemption .  ❜ ❛  i’m  looking  up  at  rock  bottom .  ❜ ❛  i  don’t  want  to  get  left  behind .  ❜ ❛  is  this  what  you  wanted ?  ❜ ❛  i  wish  i’d  read  the  signs  better ,   ‘cause  the  writing  was  on  the  wall .  ❜ ❛  i’m  just  trying  to  get  used  to  these  changes .  ❜ ❛  i  thought  i  had  the  upper  hand .  ❜ ❛  one  day  you’ll  understand  why  i  pushed  you  away  as  i  ran .  ❜ ❛  what’s  your  alibi ?  ❜ ❛  i’ve  gotta  get  out  of  this  town  somehow .  ❜ ❛  the  bad’s  been  slowly  getting  worse .  ❜ ❛  what’s  your  life  worth ?  ❜ ❛  i’m  still  trying  to  find  my  identity .  ❜ ❛  somebody  call  the  doctor !  ❜ ❛  that  which  you  fear  is  that  which  you  become .  ❜ ❛  does  any  of  this  pain  have  meaning ?  ❜ ❛  i  was  in  over  my  head .  ❜ ❛  should  we  just  say  ‘to  hell  with  it  all’ ?  ❜ ❛  i’m  gonna  get  away  with  it .  ❜ ❛  you  think  that  you  can  stop  me ?  ❜ ❛  this  isn’t  gonna  be  some  little  fix .  ❜ ❛  i’m  sick  of  being  an  optimist .  ❜ ❛  don’t  resist  the  temptation .  ❜ ❛  we  can  all  be  saved .  ❜ ❛  i  want  to  feel  something .  ❜ ❛  i’m  feeling  all  this  pressure ,   it’s  a  weight  on  my  shoulders .  ❜ ❛  i’m  looking  for  the  proof  that  i’m  alive .  ❜ ❛  all  i  ever  wanted  was  a  little  piece  &  quiet .  ❜ ❛  i  am  the  thing  you  created .  ❜ ❛  i’ve  tried  getting  better ,   did  all  of  the  twelve  steps .  ❜ ❛  if  you  love  me ,   let  me  go .  ❜ ❛  you  deserve  all  you’ve  got  coming .  ❜ ❛  i  spent  my  last  dollar  on  a  motherfucking  cab .  ❜ ❛  i’ve  got  no  hope ,   not  a  sliver .  ❜ ❛  sometimes  the  good  things  don’t  last .  ❜ ❛  i’ll  do  anything  for  you ,   just  tell  me  what  you  need .  ❜ ❛  the  goodbye  is  the  hardest  part .  ❜ ❛  i  never  thought  it’d  come  to  this .  ❜ ❛  everything  will  be  okay .  ❜ ❛  i’ve  done  bad  things  to  good  people .  ❜ ❛  i’ve  got  no  self  control ,   it’s  the  root  of  my  evil .  ❜ ❛  if  i  were  you ,   i  wouldn’t  love  me  neither .  ❜ ❛  i  keep  on  looking  at  the  world  like  i’m  an  optimist .  ❜ ❛  we  can’t  go  back .  ❜ ❛  have  you  ever  thought  that  you  don’t  know  it  all ?  ❜ ❛  i  wish  you  would’ve  called .  ❜ ❛  save  me  from  myself .  ❜ ❛  nobody  really  cared ,   so  it  never  really  mattered .  ❜ ❛  what’s  the  point  in  fighting  for  a  happy  ever  after ?  ❜ ❛  i’d  rather  drop  dead .  ❜ ❛  don’t  give  up  that  easy .  ❜ ❛  i  can’t  keep  my  shit  together .  ❜ ❛  life  is  a  bitch ,   she  doesn’t  fight  fair .  ❜ ❛  i  want  to  live  for  something .  ❜ ❛  i  want  to  die  for  something .  ❜ ❛  this  won’t  last  forever .   nothing  ever  lasts  forever .  ❜ ❛  i  think  i  need  some  guidance .  ❜ ❛  you  don’t  have  to  hurt  anymore .  ❜

[alfredosauce50]

One more night

[Boxer! Denmark x reader] 4

Word count: 3, 633 Rating: R18+ for strong language, mature themes and sex. Some content may be upsetting for readers. Proceed with caution. The reader is referred to as she/her.

One more night - 4 Fourth of July

“They can’t accept that.”

There went his last resort.

“Why not?”

“Even Amelia would say no. I don’t know how much you have in mind, but it’s just straight-up charity.” You shook your head. Your mouth opened, but nothing came out. You never realized how big of a discord you had with Mathias until now.

All your opinions, wants, and desires—they never lined up. You cared enough about him to compromise, but even that had its limits.

“It’s not charity,” He reasoned, face falling a touch.  “I’m just trying to solve a problem.”

“But it’s way too generous of you. Listen, Mathias—”

“Mat.”

“Mat. I don’t mean to tell you what to do with your money, but they would never take it,” You explained, heart heavy with defeat. “They have to sort things out on their own terms. You know that.”

Mathias was another breed of stubborn.

But when he reached his threshold, he could turn into something else entirely.

“That’s never gonna happen.” He mumbled.

His tone was faint and barely coherent. If that didn’t give away his anger, his glare did.

“What?”

You could barely hold eye contact with him. It hurt to see Mathias angry, but even more so when he made these comments about your two closest friends.

“They’ll never be able to get on by themselves. You know that more than I do,” He scoffed, looking to the side bitterly. The second he let it slip from his tongue, he knew it was over. “Stop covering for them.”

“I’m not covering for them!”

“Didn’t Allen just get out of prison? Amelia can’t even look after Bob without you helping all the time!”

You stared at him in disbelief, appalled by every word that came out of his mouth. Was it the truth you couldn’t handle, or that he was the one telling it?

“You think it’s easy?” You whispered, trying to hide that you were on the verge of tears. But Mathias knew he’d gone too far. “A baby is a lot of work, if you didn’t know. It’s probably why you want one so bad.”

His face went red with mortification, but what he heard next would crush him to pieces.

“It’s too bad you’ll have to find someone else to give you one.”

Sweat made the mattress damp and cold, but your face and body were still warm from being ravished. You could still taste him in your mouth, smell his pungent sweat, and feel the traces of his manhood inside after he pulled out.

This wasn’t how you imagined the evening would go, but fighting with Mathias was an unwelcome twist.

Hours were fucked away on his bed, taking more of his load than you could carry. All you could remember was the rolling of his hips, the squeeze of his calloused hands, and the relentless waves of your orgasms. He never talked so much during sex, but he never needed your forgiveness this desperately before.

Mathias couldn’t stop saying the same three things — that he wanted to keep boxing, and how much he wanted this to work — but what stood out to you the most, and would be branded into your mind forever, was this: Allen and Amelia are just using you.

And yet, all you could think about at the moment was them. How safe they made you feel, how much of a constant they were in your life. The only thing constant about Mathias was how often you disagreed, argued, or listened to him talk about himself. It was always about him, never you.

“I can’t do this anymore,” You breathed, eyes glazed over with frustration. Even after fighting and being wasted away in hot, rough sex, your heart ached for him when you wished it didn’t.

Sliding yourself off his bed, you didn’t look at him once as you gathered your things.

“I don’t wanna see you for a while.”

He watched you silently with tears running down his face. Mathias had all his hopes trampled on, and he couldn’t blame you or your friends. He did it himself.

His insatiable desire, tenacity, and selfishness set him up for his demise. He said things he never should’ve said, then gave in to his impulses.

Two weeks went by, radio silent.

The person you used to call every night became an ugly memory. You didn’t show up to his match either.

“Hold on, Densen. In my office.” His coach appeared in the doorway just as he slammed his locker shut.

Mathias breathed out a sigh and slipped his sneakers on. He never minded having one-on-ones, so the dread settling in his stomach was new.

“What the hell was that?”

“Was what?”

The soft hum of a desk fan filled the brief pause.

“What you did in the ring, of course!” His coach held his hands out in disbelief. “You were sloppy.”

“So?” He frowned slightly. “I still won.”

“But you were sloppy.”

“I was just tired. Can’t I be tired once in a while?”

“Listen, kid.” The other stood up, ambling past him to a low-standing shelf. “I’m not saying you can’t be under the weather. We all need a break sometimes, and you definitely aren’t an exception.”

The Dane observed his slow, laborious movements with his brows furrowed.

“But this isn’t that.” The man caught him in a hard stare. His apprentice, who he knew as a starry-eyed miracle, was losing his spark. “Something is bothering you. I don’t know what it is, and I don’t care what it is, but you gotta straighten yourself out.”

Mathias lingered his unrelenting gaze on him for a few moments — thought for another — then left.

“Nothing is worth your energy except yourself. Especially when you’ve got so much goddamn potential,” His coach continued, the words stopping him in the hallway. “If anybody’s got a chance of winning this thing, it’s you.”

Mathias wrapped his hands to prepare for training. Coiling the white lining around his wrist, palm, and knuckles, he made a fist to test the tightness.

Satisfied with his job, he walked up to a sandbag and gave it his all. He smashed his fists into it, every punch letting out an explosive ‘bam’.

The relentless jabbing left his arms sore and lungs burning, but he didn’t stop, not even to breathe, and kept going until he drowned out every thought that went through his troubled mind.

When he finally collapsed, buckling his knees to fall to the ground, his face was dangerously red as he hyperventilated. His hands were trembling. His body ached all over. Even the cuts on his face started to sting when they never did.

“Fuck,” It was tank top season again, and the one she wanted to wear didn’t cover everything up like she thought. Amelia stared at herself in the mirror, eyeing the small line across her lower stomach.

“Bro.”

“What?” You walked past her bedroom, which had the door wide open. Nobody cared about privacy in this household, and the sweltering heat only cemented that. Closed doors meant poor ventilation.

“Can you come here for a sec?”

“Yeah. I’m just trying to find the picnic mat.” You bent down in the kitchen. Rummaging through the clutter in one of the cupboards, a blender, mortar, and a glass jar of basil seeds, you found the picnic mat stuffed in the back. “Knew it.”

“Did you find it?” She called.

“Yep. It was with Allen’s things,” You placed it on the counter and marched back to her.

Amelia’s hands were on the hem of her top, having pulled it up to show her skin underneath. And her face, scrunched up in discomfort.

“He keeps sunbathing while gardening.”

Allen was hunched over the toilet with a tissue roll in his hands. This wasn’t how he imagined the day would go, but he couldn’t say it was unexpected.

“Fu—ck,” He hissed. “Never eating cheese again.”

“Proud stripes?” You scoffed, brows raised.

Amelia shrugged and pulled down her top.

“Yeah, don’t listen to them. There’s nothing great about pain. If you’re not happy with it, that’s completely fine.” You continued.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” She sighed, lifting her top again. “I just hate how it looks.”

“It doesn’t look obvious to me if that’s what you wanted to ask.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. And it’ll fade some more in a few more months,” You managed a small smile when you added this. “I still wanna see you in a tank today, though. But, you know, it’s totally up to you.”

Everyone in the family was a tank top enthusiast, and you were no exception.

“Fuck, I love tank tops.”

Allen popped out ten minutes later, cutting the conversation short. You both exchanged knowing glances before darting off. She grabbed the last of her things while you collected Bob from his crib.

She walked over to her brother by the front door.

“Have a good shit?”

“Yeah. I feel reborn,” Allen murmured, leaning down to tie his shoes. “Dairy fucks me up bad.”

“I told you to stay away from the cheese.”

“Whatever,” He stood up slowly, watching you scurry over with Bob in your arms. He’d been meaning to ask this, but he suspected he wouldn’t get a straight answer. “So, what were you guys talking about?”

“Nothing,” Amelia answered. “Just girl stuff.”

“Girl stuff, huh?” Allen looked at you expectantly.

Between you and her, ‘girl stuff’ typically translated to anything you couldn’t tell him.

“You heard the lady,” You hummed, putting on your slides.

He frowned, but never openly complained. It wasn’t the first time he was left out, and up until now, he thought he was okay with it.

“Let’s go already. Didn’t you say you were starving?”

But Allen had a feeling you were hiding something from him. A lot of things, even.

After a ten-minute drive and another twenty minutes agonizing for a parking space, it was finally time to indulge in the food truck festival of the year. Amelia ran ahead. Not carrying a baby around was freeing, and she was only taking advantage of that.

“Don’t worry, (F/N). I’ll get you something too!” She called over her shoulder. “It’s thanks for looking after Bob today!”

“I look after Bob too!” Allen shouted.

“But you still don’t know how to change a diaper!”

“I’m still learning!” He cupped a hand around his mouth. Seeing that she was gone, his shoulders slumped. “He pissed on me once and I haven’t been able to do it since. Cut me some slack.”

“You’re doing fine,” You assured, bouncing Bob in your arms. “It means you’re on the right track.”

“Some rite of passage thing, huh?”

“Yep.” You smiled devilishly. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Will I?” He mumbled.

You tapped his prosthetic leg gently with your foot.

“You will.”

“Aw, shucks. I can’t do it if I think about it,” He wobbled his legs dramatically, turning a few heads.

“This is so embarrassing.” You covered your eyes.

“What’s embarrassing is that you’re not helping me.” Allen held onto your shoulder, the warmth of his hand sending a wave of discomfort over your body. “Even Bob is judging you. See?”

“No, he’s wondering how he’s related to his uncle.” You quipped, peeling his fingers off, one by one. Your efforts proved fruitless as he wrapped both arms around your waist. “Allen, you know I’m sensitive to the heat. If you don’t let me go, I’ll push you.”

“Pushing a cripple in public?” He leaned in, raising his brows. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Do you like testing me?”

“I love it.”

Allen practically beamed, knowing you could never truly be angry with him—not even when he was being annoying on a stinking hot day.

A few minutes later, he stopped outside of a Navajo taco truck. He was too hungry to keep walking, and you wanted ice cream. So you parted ways.

“You know where to find us.” He waved.

You poked around until you found a vendor selling dole whip. Or some kind of it, anyway. When you got what you wanted, you turned around to walk back.

Standing in front of you was the last person to go to a Fourth-of-July food truck festival—a Danish international student who couldn’t handle the sun. His hands were in his pockets, and his gentle smile told you he’d been standing there a while.

“Hey.”

When Mathias wandered around the festival, looking around for anything to tickle his appetite, he never thought he’d get more than he bargained for—what he saw had his heart racing out of his chest. You were standing in front of him, ordering from an ice cream truck.

Seeing you in the flesh, wearing denim and a pair of shades on your head, was beguiling.

“Mat?” You began, eyes wide. “I didn’t know you came to stuff like this. Are you here by yourself?”

“Gilbert invited me to come with his friends.”

“Ohh. Well, are you having fun?”

“I was just starting to regret coming along,” Mathias laughed sheepishly, giving his arms a scratch.

Now that he mentioned it, the regret, it completely changed for something else. You were here, and for some reason, looking after Bob.

He wouldn’t say it out loud, but the bouncing motion in your arm was incredibly attractive.

“You look cute today.”

“Says the guy in a sun hat.” You murmured, giving your ice cream a lick. Bob reached out for it with his little hands, so you held it away from him.

Before he could cry, you kissed him on the cheek.

“Sorry, Bob. You can’t have this.”

“Why can’t he have it?”

“He’s too small,” You answered, taking a bite of the sweet treat. While Bob watched you eat, his face scrunched up, and he started to kick. “Fussy.”

Without another word, you gave Mathias your ice cream. The next thing he knew, he was sitting on a bench with a baby on his lap, keeping him secure with an arm around his torso. You pulled out a thermos from Amelia’s bag and popped off the top.

“I was gonna feed him later, but—” You poured some warm water into a baby bottle. After adding a scoop of formula, you screwed on the top and gave it a good shake. “—I have all the help I need.”

“Can I try?”

You glanced up at Mathias. There was no denying how excited he was, even when he tried to hide it.

“Sure,” You smiled, taking the almost-empty cup from his hand. A few minutes was all he needed to eat your pineapple whip. Typical. “Hold out your wrist.”

He obliged, albeit with a puzzled look.

You squeezed a dot of formula onto his skin.

“Do you feel anything?”

“Not really.”

“That means it’s the right temperature,” You said, passing him the bottle. “Remember that, okay?”

“Okay,” Mathias murmured.

Inside, he was doing backflips. You wanted him to remember this, which could only mean one thing. Backflips turned into a full-on gymnastics routine when you put your hand on his, guiding him as he bottle-fed a baby for the first time.

“Oh my God,” Mathias whispered, eyes wide as he watched Bob attentively. He was drinking so fast!

“Look at him go. He’s so thirsty!”

You let go of his hand and sat back with a laugh.

“Mhm. And we have to feed him every two hours.”

“Every two hours?” He gawked. His surprise melted into shame the longer he dwelled on it. He wasn’t doing anything right lately, but the only thing he regretted was this. “Must be a lot of work.”

After tossing out your ice cream, Mathias walked with you to buy some cake. But it couldn’t just be any cake. It had to be vegan. While you searched the festival, aisle after aisle, he carried Bob for you.

He wouldn’t stop insisting on it, but you never hesitated in the first place.

“So, who’s birthday is it today?” The Dane asked, bouncing the baby next to his head.

“Funny you should ask,” You collected a small boxed cake from the vendor before turning to him. “America and the twins.”

He stopped, his expression faltering.

“It’s Amelia and Allen’s birthday today.”

“Oh,” Mathias frowned. “Then I must be keeping you. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. We haven’t been here long,” You reasoned, pulling him along. He smiled faintly, thankful you were still willing to touch him without reason. “But I should find Amelia and Allen.”

You let go of his hand. He reached out for you instinctively, but it was subtle.

“Okay, well, um,” Mathias was growing redder by the second, choking up as a rush of emotions flooded him. Seeing you turn away from him only made him more of a nervous wreck. He’d been so distracted, he forgot to say what he’d been dying to. “Wait. Wait. Are we still—”

You stopped.

In that second, everything you ever felt for him came rushing back with vengeance. Mathias was hardly perfect, and somewhere down the line, there were more bad times than there were good. But when things were good, they were great.

Without a word, you walked up to him and handed him the cake. He held it with his free hand, confused by your actions. You pulled his face down and kissed him a few times on the lips, every sweet peck eliciting a soft sound he came to miss terribly.

“I’ll call you next week,” You lifted Bob from his hands, collecting the cake next. “Bye, Mat.”

He lit up with unbridled joy.

“Yeah, okay! I’ll be waiting!” Mathias piped, waving you off with his whole arm.

It used to feel like going in circles, but for the first time, you might actually be getting somewhere with him. The thought was endlessly relieving, and equally encouraging.

On the hill overlooking the festival, a great meeting place for picnic mats and families, was the perfect spot to catch the evening fireworks. The twins managed to claim enough space for their not-so-modestly-sized mat. Seeing them bicker back and forth, an ironic display of normalcy, was a sharp reminder of what Amelia told you earlier in the day.

Everything you just told me, is everything you can’t tell Allen, she warned.

To save what little bit of normalcy you had, you were ready to keep a secret.

If he knows, he’ll freak.

“Happy birthday, guys.”

“You got us cake?” Amelia jumped up with a shrill. “Gimme!”

“Is that what took you so long?” Allen patted the spot next to him, a snug fit between him and his sister.

You sat down slowly, mindful of Bob.

“I had to make sure you could eat it,” You sat the baby on your lap. “I had to search the whole festival for it.” While you spoke, Amelia fluffed up the cream on her plate and watched your expression attentively. You kept looking at her for some reason.

“You’re an absolute doll,” Allen beamed, picking up a slice.

“I’ve got an equal trade for it.” Amelia handed you a generous plate of food.

“Thanks, Amy. Geez, this is a lot—”

“So is babysitting,” She didn’t look up from her cake. “Thanks, dude.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll always babysit for you.”

Amelia glanced up and stared at you quietly. There was something on your mind, and she’d be let in on it as soon as the fireworks started.

“So, you guys have any specific birthday requests?”

“A million dollars.”

“A new gym set.”

“Something I can afford?”

“Cake is good,” Amelia shrugged.

“Yeah, cake is good.” Allen chimed.

“Okay,” You laughed. “Sorry I couldn’t get any candles, though.”

“We already have candles,” Allen grinned, putting on his headphones and lying down. In the darkening sky above, was a sparkling explosion of red, white, and blue. Lights fizzed away in all directions, wowing the crowd with beautiful bursts of color. But he didn’t hear a single thing.

Not that fireworks were meant for listening.

“I ran into Mat,” You admitted, turning to Amelia.

She’d been staring at the sky, and when she faced you, everything clicked.

But Allen would never know.

Not from you, anyway. A week later, he was doing chores with Bob in tow, vacuuming, mopping, and taking out the trash. You and Amelia were out doing a shift together at Baskin Robbins.

Just when he got to the apartment’s garbage chute, the bag started leaking.

“Shit, shit, shit—” He scrambled to the side and sat Bob against the wall. Clutching the corner of the bag, he felt around to stop the stream. Bob watched him struggle with a blank face. “—gross.”

What he didn’t expect, was something long, thin, and hard at the bottom. A tube of some sort, four of them, each of them identical. Allen stopped and thought for a moment. When it occurred to him what they could’ve been, his heart sank.

He tore open the bag, letting its contents spill out like someone’s guts. Digging through the trash with fearful urgency, his stomach churned when he found what he was looking for.

Four used pregnancy tests, each displaying a negative result.

Allen covered his mouth and retched, but not because of the sour funk in his hand.

The garbage was left discarded on the ground. And instead of going home, he took his car keys. Strapping Bob into the booster, he made a quick drive to Mathias’s place. The closer he got, the tighter he gripped the wheel. His breathing was shaky, and his eyes, wide with mania.

“You stay here and be good, now,” Allen muttered. “I’ll be back soon.”

He stepped out of the car, locking Bob inside.

His left hand gripped a baseball bat, and his right, a tight fist.

Next chapter: Together

[dumdumsun]

And Dusk

A/N: Just a heads up, the sensitive content in this chapter will be marked "<<<<<<" as the beginning and ">>>>>>" to signify the end. The racial slurs used in this chapter were targeted towards African Americans (and still are) and I chose these because I, myself, am African American and used them as a sort of “default” for any POC readers. ⚠️Please, never use these towards anyone. Whether it be in a “joking” manner or not. They are hurtful and were created to be that way⚠️ I wrote this chapter the way I did to bring awareness. Proceed with caution. Much love ❤️

Warnings: ⚠️racial slurs⚠️, violence, mentions of guns and dying/death

Word Count: 3707

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Chapter 3: The Frankel Footage

Shaking himself out of his shock, Five stood from his seat and hurried after his brother, grabbing onto his arm and stopping his strides. “The hell is wrong with you, Luther? I just told you the world’s gonna end in ten days!”

“Yeah, well, you’re always saying that.” Luther nonchalantly spoke before moving away, but Five intervened yet again.

“And so far, I’ve been right.” He hissed as Luther sighed and shook his head.

“Look, you want to go save the world? Knock yourself out, alright? I already got a job.”

“Wait, you work in this shithole?” The boy furrowed his brows.

“Yeah. Well, my boss owns the place,” Luther only received a nod from his brother, so he clarified. “I’m his body man.”

But this only made Five even more confused. “What’s that? Like, a masseuse or something?”

“Okay, you can make fun all you want, but I take good care of Mr Ruby.”

“Wait, Ruby. The Jack Ruby? The gangster who shot Oswald.”

Despite Five’s concern, Luther proudly smiled a smug smile as he glanced over at his boss. “Yeah. The one and only.”

“Well, it finally happened,” Five sighed. “That gorilla DNA has finally taken over your mind-”

“Hey, watch it, alright? Jack’s a good friend-”

“And you’re Number One. Numero Uno. Remember?”

Luther clenched his jaw and shook his head. “There is no Number One. Not anymore. Not in 1963,” When Five stared at him in disbelief, Luther sighed again. “Look, I’ve been stranded here alone for a year. What did you expect?”

Five scoffed. “I get it, alright? You watched Pogo die, the world exploded, and I marooned your big dumb ass in time. I’m sorry, okay? But I’m asking for your help, Luther. The Umbrella Academy needs you.”

“It doesn’t need me,” He slowly spoke to draw out his words. “It never did.”

“Luther, honey,” The waitress from earlier approached the two. “Jack’s about to lose it on some half-wit. A little help?”

“Ah, shit,” He groaned and began walking away. When Five tried yet again to stop him, he whirled on him, his lips pulled into a thin line. “Listen. You’re the genius who said we should jump, right? You’re the one who got us stuck here. And you’re the one who brought Vanya. So, if there is a doomsday coming, she’s probably the cause. And if I was gonna do something about it, it sure as hell is not gonna be with you. That’s (Y/N)’s job, being dragged around into your messes-”

“I don’t drag her into anything.” Five swallowed, blinking rapidly.

“Yeah? Well, she wasn’t stuck as a thirteen-year-old and constantly worrying about her kids until you showed up. I’m surprised she isn’t sick of you yet.” And with that, he stomped away to his boss. This time, Five let him go, his words sending a pang through his chest as he thought back on it. Grabbing his drink, he sighed and shook his head.

“Dad should’ve left him on the moon…” He muttered, taking a sip of his drink before moving to leave his seat. When he felt his jacket snag on something, he looked down to see an object in his pocket. Taking out the tape, he frowned and turned it over.

Date: 11/22/63

Subject: FRANKEL FOOTAGE

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

This world was unfamiliar to (Y/N). She knew she had to have been somewhere in America, but she didn’t know where. The cars, fashion and stores bringing the street she walked to life told her she had to have been in the sixties. But she didn’t want to believe it. Surely Five hadn’t time travelled that far? She had to have been dropped during some type of sixties-theme festival. But the voices suddenly beside her quickly prove her doubts wrong.

“What do we have here?”

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a lost little colored girl.”

Tensing, (Y/N) continued her way down the sidewalk, slightly speeding up her pace, but the men fell into step beside her with ease, flanking her sides.

“You’re on the wrong side of town, girl.”

“Yeah, we don’t like coons around here.” One of them hissed right in her ear. Her eyes welled up with tears before the other shoved her forward.

“Gon now, get!” He ordered as if she were a dog. She realized that’s how they had seen her. An animal. Nothing more. Tripping on a crack in the sidewalk, she fell to the ground, smacking her face on the concrete. She choked out a sob as the two men cackled. And to make matters even worse, she felt the pitter patter of raindrops start to freeze her skin.

(Y/N) gasped out in shock when the men spit two wads of saliva in her face. She knew she must’ve looked a mess with spit and tears sliding down her cheeks and blood oozing from her nose. She hiccupped on her sobs and began to stand, much too tired from her previous fight with Vanya and literally being dropped from the sky to successfully do so. The men backed her up against a wall and one fisted the front of her vest before a voice called out.

“Take your hands off of my child!” Whipping around, the men were half expecting to find another target, but (Y/N) coughed and sputtered nonsense upon the person her gaze fell upon.

“M-Mom…?”

Before her was Grace, but… she wasn’t robotic in any sense. She could tell by the raw anger etched into her features. She took a brave step forward. “I said. Take your hands. Off my child.”

And that was another thing: her accent. (Y/N) was immediately comforted by the stern southern accent the woman shared with her attackers. It was a voice she never thought she needed. The two looked between Grace and (Y/N) with smirks. “You mean this lil ol’ jigaboo-”

“Is my daughter. Now you let her go before I call the police.”

“Woman, I don’t care if you call the police-”

Grace took it upon herself to step closer and grab the child by her arms, yanking her into her warm embrace. (Y/N) immediately latched onto her, quivering in her hold. The men scoffed and shook their heads, beginning to walk away. “Make sure to keep that thing on a leash if you’re gonna have it out, ma’am.”

“Oh, fuck off.” She growled before turning and walking back in the direction the girl came from. As they walked past the alleyway, Grace took out a handkerchief and began wiping the girl’s face clean of what the raindrops hadn’t already washed away. “It’s alright, hun, they aren’t gonna hurt you anymore.”

“T-Thank you.” (Y/N) sobbed and gently held her nose in pain. Grace crouched in front of her and gently held her face in between her hands.

“Don’t thank me, darlin’, it’s how everyone should be treatin’ you ‘round here… Where are your parents? I could take you to ‘em.”

(Y/N) thought for a long moment, watching as the rain soaked Grace’s hair and clothing. The woman didn’t seem to mind as she watched the girl before her swallowing thickly. (Y/N) skimmed over her current choices. She didn’t have any choice.

“I don’t have parents. I-I don’t remember them…”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

“I’m tellin’ you, Reggie, she’s highly intelligent for a child her age.” Grace proudly presented (Y/N) to the man she had grown fond of over their time working together. (Y/N), however, was frozen in her spot. Sir Reginald Hargreeves. The man whose death she had wished upon for years, whose death had finally graced her existence, was back in her life. She flinched at the disapproving look on his face, much too acquainted with it by this point in her life. “And she’s very respectful. Talented, too, this girl can speak several languages.”

“You seem rather fond of this child.” The man observed as Grace squeezed her into her side.

“She’s my pride and joy.”

“And you cannot remember anything of your past, child?”

“N-No,” (Y/N) shook her head and stared down. “Not a lot. J-Just my name and birthday.”

Reginald hummed and stared her down with an unreadable expression. When she met his eyes again, he was crouched down to her level, his monocle clutched in his fist. “(Y/N), was it?”

“Yes.”

“It would be an honor to have your presence within my home, along with your mother.”

“O-Oh, that’s okay-”

“I insist. Besides, you have been living with her for almost half a year, correct? It is highly unlikely that she will share a home without you.”

“He’s right about that, hun,” (Y/N) glanced up at Grace, who was smiling warmly at her. “I’m not leavin’ you.”

(Y/N) could have cried.

And she did.

One year later, (Y/N) had been living quite the comfortable life with Grace and Reginald. She had been introduced to the ape, Pogo, for the second time since Grace first started working with him. As much as she loved being around the chimp, it brought back so many memories. She almost felt silly, looking after him sometimes knowing he had done the same for her in the original timeline.

Her relationship with Reginald was nothing she ever expected. He was gentle, well as gentle as Reginald Hargreeves could get, he cared for her, spoiled her, even. She wouldn’t have to ask for anything half the time. If he were to overhear a conversation between her and Grace about a dress she oh-so wanted, it would suddenly be laid out on her bed the next day. She usually had a say in dinner meals every Thursday and Sunday and Reginald listened intently whenever she would voice any discomfort or concerns with her living conditions. (Y/N) never had a real father, but she assumed this is what it was like to have one. She never wanted to let go of it.

For her birthday in 1963, she was surprised that he had actually gotten her a present. As she entered the parlor, she was met with the tiniest bark and an even tinier golden retriever, bounding up to her. She gasped and stopped low, letting him jump into her arms. She let him lick her face and giggled in the joy it brought her.

“Your mother said you would like it. Though I would never allow dogs in my house, I have come to understand that there are rules I must bend for you, my child.”

(Y/N) turned to her father. Yes, father. Reginald, also growing quite fond of their father-daughter bond formed between them, decided to adopt the girl. As much as his beliefs and his deep distaste for children protested. There was just something about this child. Or perhaps it was Grace’s insisting, reassuring him that he would make a wonderful father. (Y/N) was very hesitant at first for her own reasons she never shared, but eventually came around to the idea of being his daughter again.

This was the same Reginald Hargreeves who locked her in a dark room for five days straight, but also an entirely different man. Perhaps it was her fascination with the differences, or maybe she just wanted a real father for once.

“Thank you, Dad.” She softly smiled, the man nodding in response.

“But this is your pet, (Y/N). It is your responsibility. I will not find it in my study, in my bedroom, you are to train it yourself-”

“Can you-”

“And no, I will not help you pick out its name.”

The girl softly groaned and looked back down at her new puppy. Looking into its eyes, she smiled softly at a distant memory as a small child.

“Welcome to the family, Mr Pennycrumb.”

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

(Y/N) groaned when she felt the sunbeams of the early morning sunrise hit her eyelids, coloring her black vision with the stinging fire of orange. Rolling onto her other side, she stretched her blanket over her head. They were yanked away the next second, causing a whine to leave her lips. “Mom… Five more minutes.”

“I let you sleep in long enough, hun, it’s time to get up. You have a date with Preston this afternoon.” Grace gently pulled her daughter to sit up, giggling quietly at her look of disgust.

“Preston? Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously, let’s get goin’.” Grace patted her leg and walked to her door, waiting patiently. (Y/N) sighed and rubbed her face, letting her feet slide into her slippers. As they descended the stairs to the kitchen for breakfast, Reginald could hear his daughter’s sleepy complaining from his place at the table.

Setting his utensils down, he turned his head in their direction. “My child, how many times throughout each week must we have to repeat this conversation?”

“Until it starts making sense.” (Y/N) stepped into the dining room, now in her robe, and crossed her arms over her chest. Reginald sighed and stood from his chair at the table.

“You are one of my greatest accomplishments,” He began towards her. “There is no doubt in my mind that you would make a fine successor. I do not believe you will need a husband. In fact, you would be better off without another individual holding you back from what you are truly capable of.”

“But?” She raised a brow.

“But… I have grown to know you more than I expected… and I know that you would need someone to help manage your finances you inherit once I am gone. Preston is a fine young man who was born into this life, made into this life. He will take good care of you.”

(Y/N) knew there was only one person in this world who would truly take good care of her. But he wasn’t here, and she needed to play the part as the amnesiac adopted daughter, so she huffed and nodded. “Fine… I’ll go…”

“Thank you-”

“But only if Mr Pennycrumb can go, too.”

“Very well, but you will not be gifted another animal if you lose it.”

The outing wasn’t entirely bad. (Y/N) didn’t mind the picnic or the art museum, it was the company that made her blood boil. Preston is anything she would have expected out of him. This had been their seventh date, tenth of the ones he planned. (Y/N) sought out any opportunity she could to cancel on him to save herself from the unbearable three hours she would have to spend with the kid. He was arrogant, smug, selfish, narcissistic, and overbearing. Of course, this was not the Preston he presented to her parents. No, to them, Preston was ‘a fine man with a bright future ahead of him’, or as Grace would put it, ‘a delight to have around’. He laughed like a drunk, talked like a husband, and smelled like a man. All at the age of fifteen. (Y/N) had to remind herself on several occasions that she was mentally the older out of the two and to not stoop to his level when he got under her skin.

“Don’t you think, (Y/N)?” The voice brought her attention back to the boy beside her. She looked up from the grass they had been strolling through. When she hummed in question, he amusedly scoffed and side-step closer to her. “Never mind. I should have known you wouldn’t have been interested in politics.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” The girl raised a brow. At her confusion, he laughed and gently tapped the side of his head.

“You’ve always got that head of yours in the clouds. Or turned behind you- like right now.”

(Y/N) turned her head away from where she had been looking over her shoulder. “What? Sorry, Preston, I’m a little preoccupied today.”

“With what, exactly? You don’t seem to be the type of girl to have very many issues. Nothing to worry about.”

“And you wonder why I don’t listen to you.” She sighed as her puppy ran in between her legs, rolling in the grass once he was a few paces in front of them. Preston frowned in distaste and shook his head.

“You should really keep that thing on a leash, sweetheart.”

She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, clenching her teeth as she folded her hands behind her back. “Really now?”

“Really. You know, I’m not very fond of dogs, so I’m not sure how it’ll work out once we’re married. I think we should get one after we have kids, you know? Just so the kids could grow up with it.”

(Y/N) quickly turned her head to the left, pointing out across the street. “Preston, would you look at that?”

“Look at what?” He gullibly looked in the direction, (Y/N) quickly checking the area before almost silently singing her tune. From her shadow, her clone formed and robotically walked behind the two. She quickly switched spots with it and ordered the clone to walk with Preston before scooping her puppy into her arms and rushing off in the opposite direction. Once she was behind a diner far away from their date location, she let out a sigh and gently patted her dog on the head.

“Were you sick of it, too?” She chuckled. Resting the back of her head against the brick wall she leaned on, she let out a slow breath and began to relax. The sound of guns cocking had her head snapping up so fast, she swore she could have dislocated it. Just down the end of the line of stores were three white-haired men, one in a milkman uniform, training their guns on her. (Y/N) didn’t waste a second tucking her dog in front of her and spinning around, charging down the opposite direction as bullets whizzed past her. She dodged them the best she could, jumping a few feet in the air at the ones that threatened to take their place in her feet. It was like a dance; the twisting, spinning and jumping, and she was to perform this dance until one of those bullets killed her if she didn’t find a way out soon. Sliding to the side of a clothing store for cover, she gently shushed her pet as she caught her breath.

The three sets of footsteps eventually found their destination and rounded the corner with skilled quickness, shooting at the girl until she was nothing more than a bloodied corpse on the ground, bullet holes lodged in almost every inch of her body. The three men nodded to each other and turned around, making their way out from behind the stores.

(Y/N) had already been down the street from her house by the time her attackers found the clone in her place. She couldn’t have been bothered to check herself for any wounds, too worried about Mr Pennycrumb’s potential bullet wounds. But the pup was perfectly, happily nuzzling into her arms and wagging his tail. This left (Y/N) to ponder.

Who the hell were those men?

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

“Is it on?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know? There’s an ‘on’ button. Just- There’s something over- that jigga-ma-thing, whatever.”

“I hit the jigga-ma-thing!”

“Okay, well, just- Give it to me. I know how to do this.”

“Alright, here, here. Hurry up.”

“Okay, alright, let’s see…”

Lila didn’t look up from her task of painting poor Elliott’s toenails, his bindings he received after threatening the trio with a gun preventing him from moving too much. Which was beneficial to her, as it kept her from ruining the paint job. She softly smiled as she listened to the argument between the elderly couple on the film Five and Diego were intently watching. “They’re so cute,” She commented. “I love old couples. I’m always so proud of them for not murdering each other.”

Ignoring her, Diego turned to his brother from his seat on Elliott’s counter. “Why are we watching this?”

“Shush.” Five replied, eyes trained on the film before him, searching for any clue to the approaching apocalypse, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Yeah, I… I’m Dan Frankel. And…”

“I’m Edna Frankel.”

“...Edna Frankel. We are in Dallas, Texas, to see the president. Today’s date is November 22, 1963.”

Five nodded as everyone’s attention was brought to the projected screen before them.

“That’s six days from now.” Lila spoke as Elliott thrashed about more against his bindings. Diego sat forward in interest.

“Holy shit. This is it. The grassy knoll. Kennedy’s about to get shot. How do you have this?”

“Hazel died to get me this footage,” Five answered. “It must be the key to stopping doomsday.”

“Hazel…?” Diego frowned, remembering the man he spent hours searching for and planning to kill to avenge the death of Eudora Patch.

“Long story.”

“What’s doomsday?” Lila looked up at the boy.

“Longer story.”

“What exactly did he say to you?” Diego asked as Lila turned her head back to the film.

Five shrugged. “Well, he was killed before he could explain. But whatever he wanted us to see, it’s on this film.”

“This is very exciting.” The old man smiled before the sound of gunshots and screaming could be heard, the camera moving around in blurs due to the shock of the old woman filming.

“Oh, my god!”

“Oswald…” Diego whispered, setting his knife down as Five leaned in closer.

“The president!”

When the camera was steadied to record across the street, Five and Diego both stiffened in their spots at what their eyes caught. “Oh, no…” Five breathed and moved behind the projector, rewinding the film and scooting the cart backwards to zoom in closer. The room was silent as Diego stood to his feet and Five rounded the cart before standing beside his brother, directly in front of the film. “This can’t be…”

“Okay, you gonna fill me in now, boys?” Lila glanced between the two. “What the hell is this shit we’re watching?”

But she was ignored yet again.

“No, that’s impossible…”

“Clearly, it’s not.”

“What… What is it?” Elliott muffled past the gag in his mouth.

A beat of silence went by before the two Hargreeves whispered in unison,

“Dad.”

—————————————

Taglist: @unfortu-nate-ly @sapphicsyn @m00n-sh @starcurrent @alexander-hamilhoe @youcandalekmyballs @wonderlandfandomkingdom @yrdadjstcallsmekatya @sm0kingcrack @a-t-h-r-e-e-n-a @moatsnow @bubblegumflamingos @starstormssymphony @meowiemari @magicalgothpandamaker @simping-4-fictional-men @hehehehannahthings @harrystylescherrie @rhain3 @himikaphoo @zerocanonlywriteshit @xxeiraxx @camerondiaz48104 @isawachickeninatree

[sinner-as-saint]

Can’t Get Enough

F-boy!Steve x Reader AU

Run-through: Despite all the warnings and words of caution, you still get involved with the most arrogant and popular fuckboy on campus…

Themes: fuckboy!steve, smut, fluff?

“He’s bad news.”

“He’s like, the most arrogant person ever. Walks around like he owns the place.”

“Screw Rogers honestly, he just wants to fuck everyone and everything.”

“Him and his friends are exactly the kind of people you should stay away from at all times.”

Words of cautions, warning you against Steve Rogers – the notorious, popular, drop dead gorgeous guy on campus – came flooding in from everywhere. But did you listen? No.

How could you when all he did was walk around with that god damn smirk on, and his irresistible deep blue eyes which reminded you of the bluest of seas on a sunny day, and those tight shirts which; showing off his perfect, muscular body.

And that god damn baseball cap worn backwards – that made you weak almost each time you ran into him at the coffee shop, at a party or rarely in the library. Although he look equally as delicious without it, the hat definitely added on to his bad boy charm.

And secretly, we all love a bad boy, don’t why? So despite all the warnings, you fell for his charm and his boyish manner – falling head first – the minute he approached you at a party one night. It was a uni after party, so it was packed with horny young adults – including yourself.

Steve walked over to you with a seductive smirk on his pretty face. His smooth pick-up lines, and cheesy jokes and his impeccable body won you over in less than a few minutes. “Wanna get out of here?” he asked.

You raised an eyebrow, deciding to play just a little hard to get. Because truth is, you were ready to get low, down and gritty right there and then. “Yeah no, I’m not fucking you tonight Rogers.” You smirked and walked away. Needless to say, he followed you like a lost puppy.

“Come on, Y/N.” he faked pouted and everything when he cornered you playfully near the stairs. “I’ll be so good to you.” he whispered the last part in your ear. And you would be lying if you said your whole body didn’t feel all hot and bothered.

You shook your head and tried walking away again. He grabbed your arm and pulled you closer. “Let’s go for a drive then, away from all this.”

Your common sense left and you agreed.

He did take you for a drive, in his expensive car – daddy’s money you figured. And he also fucked you in the backseat of his car.

Legs spread apart, hands holding each side of your waist as you lowered yourself down on his thick, hard cock. The moment you had him inside you, he threw his head back and let out a loud, shameless moan, “Fuck…” his voice deep and raspy with lust; which only made you want to fuck him even more.

A lot of things gave away that he had done this before. The way he knew how to maneuver around, how to position your body, where to kiss you to make you lose your mind, where to hold you to get you going… but you didn’t care. The need to have him was pressing and all your mind could focus on is making both of you cum.

“Come on doll, don’t be shy. Ride me,” he grabbed your chin and pulled your face closer, biting down on your lower lip gently. “Ride me big cock like you know you want to. Show me how bad you want it…” he trailed off in another loud moan as you lifted your body up and sank down on him again. This cock stretching you out and filling you up each time. You could feel him deep inside you, you could see the bulge which formed at your lower abdomen as he filled you up.

You threw your head back and moaned as well, placing your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as you quickened your pace. Steve lifted his hips occasionally, fucking into you and reaching deeper inside you but he mostly let you do all the work.

“Fuck… you feel so fucking good…” he moaned, biting down on your neck, and shoulder. “So wet, and warm and tight for me.” He whispered against your skin.

At some point, realizing that you were purposely slowing down to tease him each time, he growled and grabbed you by the hips and just pounded into you; lifting his hips up and fucking you hard and fast. You felt him stretch you out like no one ever did before. He felt so snug and so big inside you; you were losing your mind

Okay but fuckboy!steve would make you cum like no one else. Just absolutely railing you in the backseat of his car; not bothering about how loud you got, or how warm and steamy it got inside his car; he’d just be at it until you’re a whimpering mess, filled with his cum. One orgasm overlapping with another, toes curling, voice hoarse, Steve would own all of you in that moment, and you’d happily let him.

Yet, after that steamy night you expected him to pretend like he never saw met you. Ghost you like he did other girls, but no. He found you in the library, and walked over to you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your cheek. You were just as surprised as the rest of your friends when they saw that interaction.

You two never called it a relationship. But everyone else knew that you two were spending every day and night together.

Okay but fuckboy!steve would be so awkward about dates; it would be borderline funny.

“Do you wanna like, do something after class today?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, movie or something? We can grab dinner afterwards. Or go to the beach. You pick.”

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

He’d blush and try to hide his face. “What, no! I just wanna hang out.”

Hanging out with fuckboy!steve meant going places and fucking as much as you could without getting caught.

Sex in the library, after he snuck the two of you in after closing time.

Sex in his car, like every weekend.

Sex in bathrooms at parties; in the pool after everyone’s passed out drunk, on balconies, and in whichever bed you could find.

He never called himself your boyfriend, but he was ready to fight whoever the fuck even dared to flirt with you, or even look at you the wrong way. Even his friends found it unusual. Sam and Bucky often passed flirty comments at you, and they both always received a smack on the head for it.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sam always complained about his friend’s protective behavior. “It’s not like she’s your girlfriend or anything.”

Steve would roll his eyes, “Shut up Sam. She’s mine.”

Being Steve’s girl would include;

Receiving dirty texts when you’re in class. The kind which made you lose focus and send your mind straight to the gutter.

Going on long drives to nowhere in particular and making out in his car.

Stealing and wearing his jackets and hoodies, and have every girl stare at you in envy. Or wearing his baseball caps when you’re out sometimes.

Keeping up with his moodiness.

Teasing him about how you’d tell his friends that he secretly loves watching Disney movies with you.

Him bragging to his friends about how good you are in bed, and once you caught him and didn’t speak to him for a whole week and he was miserable. Incessant calls and messages, and begging for forgiveness.

Arguments leading to hardcore, hot sex where you’re both just fucking the frustration out of each other. Steve secretly liked you a little feisty. And you liked it when he was all rough and mean in bed.

Sitting on his lap, keeping his cock warm while he plays video games. And all the grunts and sighs of victory leaving his lips would only make you want to fuck him even more.

“Hey, sit still.” He’d whisper once he catches you trying to grind your hips against him.

You’d whine at how you were right on the edge; his cock stretching you out, snug inside you, throbbing in need against your walls. All you needed him to do is make you cum already. “Steve please.”  

He’d chuckle and smirk. “No. You’ve been a brat all day. Bitching about how I don’t give you enough attention and I don’t care about you. And brats don’t get to cum so easily. Now sit still, I’ll be done in like half an hour or so.”

Okay but imagine fuckboy!steve being secretly a softie who loves cuddles and loves it when you baby him, shower him with cuddles and kisses. But then around his friends he’s that guy who pretends he’s all tough and manly.

But when he’s with you it’s all like; “What are you doing over there? Come here and give me cuddles, I’m cold.” He’d pout.

And you knew he was nothing but trouble, but you couldn’t get enough of him.