#but seriously why is he shaped like that... who gave him the right?

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

I watch Alien vs. Predator for the plot.

The plot:

He's looking at her with respect which can easily develop into love and is a perfect foundation to fu-

*I am shot dead before I finish the sentence*

[eddiernunson]

Ice Cream, Bikinis, and Other Ways to Torture Him | Older Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Harrington!Fem!Reader | 18+ | PREVIEW

Part 1 is now Posted

Summary: The stories of Eddie Munson, front man of Corroded Coffin and his music filled the Harrington household, his albums on shelves and picture frames hung of your dad and him, young and dumb. You're home for the weekend, which so happens to be the same weekend Eddie is in Hawkins on a personal errand. The longtime crush on him bubbles to the surface as you meet him, giving into the temptation of small summer dresses and bubblegum gloss for the fun of it. Until your dad is called in to an emergency work meeting. Then the fun of torture becomes temptation.

Warnings: Older Rockstar!Eddie, Harrington!Reader (Steve's daughter), multichapter build up, excessive use of nicknames, no use of y/n, use of marijuana, perv!Eddie

Describes: long hair, shorter than Eddie by a few inches, reader is described to look like her mom (can be ANY race) with Steve's freckles. No skin colour, body shape/type

(Unedited) Excerpt Here:

The smell of his Irish Spring soap hits the kitchen before he does, walking into the kitchen mid yawn and fresh from his shower. Eddie’s shirt clings to his lithe torso like a second skin, showing off just the hint of a tummy with his sweatpants sitting low on his hips. You allow yourself one second to gawk at him and the hairs that peek out of his shirt until you reshift your focus back to your toast, panicking when you notice the jam that has dripped on your hand. Oh, shit again?

“What’s with the fancy get up, dude?” Eddie asks, pouring himself a cup as well.  

“Before we get to that, Sunshine has put some toast in for you.” Steve gestures with his coffee cup.

Eddie’s brows lift, looking just the littlest bit delighted as he turns toward the toaster. “Oh, thanks!” He snaps his fingers into a gun with his thumb and pointer finger, sending a wink your way. You’re mid-‘clean-up’ on your hand, rushing to finish before you nod to acknowledge his thanks. 

“Alright. My partner called,” he means work partner, “he needs help to close this deal. He’s having a really hard time doing it himself.”

”Who did you send?” You ask, knowing a little bit of his work drama. 

Steve hisses, wincing as he says, “Warner.” 

You roll your eyes, shaking your head as the toast pops out of the toaster. “Well no wonder!” 

Eddie has been watching this like a tennis match, completely out of the loop but entertained nonetheless. “What, what’s wrong with…Warren?” 

“Warner,” you correct him, cleaning up yet another spill of jam off your thumb. “The guy sucks. Why Warner, why not Tommy?” 

“Wait, why does he suck?” Eddie asks as he spreads butter on his toast, looking way too entertained about this.

“Because he’s a 22-year-old fuckwit that doesn’t know how to close and only got this job because his dad gave it to him when he retired,” you huff, not at all distracted by how Eddie is eating his toast; like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, savoring every bite. His tongue occasionally pokes out to lap at the butter on his lips, his eyes closed as he muffles sounds at the back of his throat. 

He makes eating toast look depraved.

“Sunshine, you’re 22,” Steve squints, lifting his cup towards you accusingly. 

You scoff. “Yeah but I’m not an entitled dickwad who thinks just because his daddy had a job ‘oh, that’s my job one day!’. He has no experience versus his father who was in the game for 25 years.” You’re very passionate about this, more so than you had even anticipated. “Seriously, why him?” 

“He’s the only one who didn’t take the Fourth of July weekend off because he’s a 22 year old fuckwit with no family.” He takes a large sip of his coffee before setting it on the counter. “Well in any case, you are right. He has no experience and we need this account, so I gotta help him out.” 

“When do you think you’ll be back?” Eddie asks, giving you a fresh whiff of his soap when he walks behind you to sit on the other side of the island. 

Steve crosses his arms and leans against the table, mentally preparing himself before he disappoints the two of you, “Not til Sunday.” 

“Shitty,” Eddie sighs sympathetically. 

“Dad I can only take one week off,” you sigh, having only gotten two days with him. “When you get back I’ll only have one more day.” 

“I know, I’m sorry.” He does genuinely sound remorseful. You know he’d stay if he had any other choice, but he doesn’t. 

“You know anyone else in town who could…” Eddie starts, obviously reminding your dad of something he forgot about. 

“Shit. Hmmm.” Steve’s eyes flicker to you, “Sunshine can do it.” 

You pause mid-bite in hearing your nickname. “Sunshine can do what?” 

“I don’t wanna bother her on her vacation.” Eddie states, dismissing Steve’s offer. 

Your dad saved him off, “I’m sure she’d be happy to help.” 

“What am I doing?” You ask more assertively, finally grabbing their attention. 

Eddie finally speaks first, “Oh, I asked your dad to help me pack up my uncles things. It’s a tedious process, I can get—“ 

“No, she’d be happy to help,” Steve offers again, looking at you and jerkily nodding his head towards Eddie. 

You’d be happy to help, you’re just thinking about the amount of time you’ll be alone with Eddie. Your plan was to keep a safe distance from him, allowing a free show in your best summer clothing while enjoying the hot weather. The close quarters your dad is sending you into sounds dangerous, butterflies erupting into your ribcage as you picture the deafening silence surrounding the two of you knee deep in his uncle’s things.   

“I’m happy to help,” you tell him, getting up to put your plate away. 

“I don’t want to force her into—“ 

“My dad can’t force me into doing shit,” you scoff, ignoring your dads own scoff. Now Eddie on the other hand could demand you to bark and you would. Down on the ground, on all fours. “Besides. You two wouldn’t have gotten any actual organization done.” 

“Thanks,” Eddie lifts his mug, giving you a wink. Your neck hair rises, scanning his arched nose and the rebelling stubble already growing in despite having freshly shaved. His aftershave is intoxicating, the sound of a glass mug clinking as it lands on the counter snapping you out of your daze.   

“When are you leaving?” You suddenly remembered your dad’s presence in the kitchen, funny how fast you forgot about him. 

“I should get going within the hour,” he states thoughtfully, grimacing apologetically when you give him sad eyes. You know it's not his fault, but you’re not the adult here, and the disappointment you feel can’t help but twist your features. 

He puts his hands on your shoulders, petting them with his thumbs. “I do feel better knowing I’m not leaving you all alone in this big empty house.” 

You tense up, avoiding his gaze as you attempt to smile. Being left all alone with Eddie in the big empty house is precisely what is worrying you. Your dad’s constant presence alone is the thing that has prevented you from even being tempted into going any further than elongated stares and late night fantasies. 

“I’ve been alone in the house before,” you say, tilting your head. “You’re about to be alone for the rest of the month.” That sentence just makes you feel sad. 

He smirks, shaking his head playfully. “I meant at least if I’m ditching you for work, then at least I’m not leaving you all alone. I was trying to alleviate my own guilt.” 

“I’ve already forgiven you, old man,” you tell him. “Go, rescue those poor investors from Warner’s slippery hands.”

He pulls you in for a hug, his heartbeat familiar as he leans down to place a kiss on your forehead. Your head is swung back abruptly as he pushes on your shoulders, leaning in conspiratorially. “Hey, there are worse people to leave you alone than the man that was once on a poster on your wall, hey?” 

That poster was stared down many times, finally taken down when you were about to move away, kept only because of the autograph in the bottom corner.

Regardless, your dad is having too much fun with this. You wonder who would have more fun if Eddie ends up bending you over the couch like you kept envisioning. Said rockstar currently bending over the couch to grab something jolted you back to the present. 

“And who gave me that as a gift after introducing me to his music?” You shoot back, meeting those chocolate brown eyes across the living room. 

“My ears are burning,” Eddie grins, walking around the couch to plug in the amp. 

“Are your keys burning, because I need a ride to the airport.” Steve interjects, smirking at your widened eyes. 

Eddie sits on the couch, one foot resting on the coffee table as he starts playing his guitar absentmindedly. “I am your noble steed at your service, Harrington. Just tell me when.” 

Steve answers with something, probably somewhat sarcastic before climbing the stairs to finish packing. You probably would’ve heard it if it weren’t for how absentmindedly his fingers were moving, individually plucking the strings as his other hand shifts easily to each corresponding chord. 

He is delicate with the instrument, expertly working her and zoned out as the guitar’s gentle tune fills the house. His many years spent playing is evident through how easy he plays the melody, getting lost in the song with his hands working idly. If it weren’t for his eyes being shut for the whole time, you would’ve probably pretended to go on your phone. 

His effortlessness of plucking the strings sends a thrill down your spine, has your thighs squeezing tightly together as your mind starts to picture his fingers expertly working you apart. 

“Ow!” 

Eddie’s yelp snaps you out of it, making you jump as you hurriedly switch your glance back to your phone. He chuckles as he sucks his sore thumb, the very same one the guitar string snapped on. “Sorry, did I scare ya?” 

“No,” you answer, sounding not at all convincing to yourself. Eddie lifts his brow to you, his face comically twisted as he continues to tend to his wound. “Okay, maybe a little.” 

He chuckles, smirking as he adjusts the guitar on his lap again. “Poster in your room?” 

Fuck, you were hoping he didn’t hear that, despite him being in earshot. 

“Well it was signed and it just so happened to be one of my favorite albums.” Despite your nerves tickling the surface right under your skin, you do your best to seem unfazed by his magic fingers.  

His brows furrow, delicately playing a soft rock melody. At least, you think it's soft rock. “Which one?”

”Hell’s Angels,” you answer candidly. You do like the songs of Freak! More, but you specifically requested a poster of Hell’s Angels because of the dark look in Eddie’s eye while he’s looking directly in the listener. 

There may have been a night where you placed it perfectly on the wall so it appears he’s between your open legs to make it easier to picture him glancing up at you while he—

He tilts his head dismissively lifting one side of his upper lift in a sneer. “Not my best. If I had to pick a favorite, and don’t tell anyone I said this, it’d be Freak!” 

You blink in surprise, grinning to yourself as you listen to the gentle strum of his guitar. 

“I do remember sending that poster off though, Steve never mentioned who it was for, I just figured It would earn him some serious brownie points for a girl he was chasing.” It feels so weird to hear about your dad dating, even after all these years. 

“Nope,” you shrug. “Just his favorite daughter.” 

“Shit,” he laughs, a hiccup in his guitar play, “if you wanted an autograph you should’ve just asked. Only takes me two seconds.”

Your mind buzzes with the offer, probably a throwaway comment of his, but just the offer alone is enough to send you almost on a mental spiral. 

-

I'd add more but the first chapter is only at 5k or so

if you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! (if you're on my taglist you will be tagged for the post)

I'm aiming to post at least once a week but that might be ambitious. Aesthetic pictures will be updated with each chapter!

[livelaughlovesubs]

guess who's back, back again, it's 🃏 anon back at it again!

so. Sampo Koski (i'm fully inclined to say his full ass name because why not, it's hilarious) recently i had a big craving for his bratty little ass, so i was thinking, maybe reader (gn or otherwise) getting way too tired of his quips and just... fucking him roughly, rough sex, bondage (or any form of BDSM), some (or a lot of) manhandling and a teensy bit of a blood (either from clawing or biting can work!) can work really well!

but honestly, go wild i don’t really mind whatsoever, i’m swamped with work right now and i just need to satisfy my needs from them lolol.

so, again, have fun with this request!

from, le 🃏 anon!

Hello hello~! Great to see you again. After two whole months, I hope you aren’t that swamped with work anymore? Haha

Dom!reader x sub!sampo - reader is gn

Warning: bondage, pegging (I use dick), rough sex, slapping, manhandling, chocking, scratching, mention of death, hair pulling, edging

It was a mistake to trust him.

Seriously, this man is wanted by the guards and owns the infamous image of a liar, how could you believe in his words? Maybe they were just too sweet, too tempting and irresistible. Even so, it doesn’t justify how stupid you were to trust him. That sweet yet two faced smile, it made you blind. I mean- how dared he scam you with low quality ropes?!

All you wanted was to buy some nice, pretty ropes, and he even gave you a discount. Then he talked big about how well he threats his customers, and that he’d personally bring it to your house. Though the moment you glanced at the item, seeing the rough texture and poor handicraft, your jaw dropped. No wonder the price was so damn cheap, this guy tried to rip you off! Who did he take you for? This won’t do, you wasn’t someone easy who’d let it slide after him apologising. You’ve been so excited to receive it after all, that’s why you had to teach him a lesson.

You grabbed him by his arm and dragged him inside, throwing him onto the ground. The rope slipped from his hands, landing next to him. A cold look in your eyes and you kicked his sides, telling him to get onto the bed. He eventually obliged, then you began stripping his clothes. Sampo let you do it with a sheepish smile and dropping eyes, chuckling satisfied. That lewd little fox just loved it when you are rough with him, when you push him around and put him in his place. Now his face was being pushed into a fluffy pillow while his ass was high in the air, kneeling basically. Wrists near his ankle as you brought the red rope closer to him, straightening it out then whispering, “hold still.”

With a swift move, you tightened the knot around his wrist, pulling with all your strength. He groaned a little and bawled his hands into fists, fully aware that there will be bruises on the next day. “Most esteemed customer~ why… are you testing your product on me?” His voice got higher towards the end, a sense of excitement hidden under the surface. “Hah, come on, we are more than just merchant and buyer.” You reminded him while giving his bare butt a harsh slap, leaving behind a red mark. “Nghh~! Ahaha! Oh y/n, you are as fascinating as ever.”

That’s right, you two have shared some intimacy before and despite the relationship you both had he still tried to scam you. “Save your flattery for later. Now, tell me, does this feel like quality ropes?” You asked him with a scorn, in the meantime opening the lit of a bottle. The tall male had a rather sarcastic expression, acting like he didn’t know. Though the answer was as clear as day. He could feel it rub against his flesh, irritating and burning his skin. It had an itchy feeling to it, yet it also hurt, causing the area around it to turn red.

A faint blush covered the cheeks of the boy. His breathing was heavy and ragged, sweat forming on his forehead. Then you grabbed his roots and yanked on his hair, making him arch his back into a crescent shape, mumbling, “answer me.” The rather rough treatment was immediately met with a loud moan, “uhhH-nNNGhhh~! Ah, be gentle, y/n..” finally he looked at you, mouth parted and tongue hanging out a little. His face also reddened by a few shades, the corners of his lips were curled into a grin.

“I take it you know what this means for you?” You sighed and asked him, squeezing a large amount of lube onto your inner palm. He acted like he didn’t know, staying quiet and making a -hmm?- sound. So you continued with, “your punishment, for deceiving me.” Then you stuck two fingers inside his hole, fingering him sloppily. “Punish.. ment? Ah-ngHhhh..! To-too rough~♡” Sampo threw his head back, his blue-white hair bouncing around. “Yes, punishment for bad boys.”

Seeing how he shuddered and shook, you deemed him prepared enough and pulled your fingers out. Afterwards you lined the tip of your length to his hole, followed by you dropping the bottle onto the ground and grabbing his waist with both hands. Holding him, making him stick his ass out some more. “Mhmm~ ha, haah… don’t hold back now, dear customer.” His breathing became even more ragged, he was obviously enjoying this. “What a fucking whore.” You chuckled, giving his bottom another squeeze, spreading his hole with two fingers before penetrating him.

You slowly pushed the tip in, noticing how his shoulders jerked upwards, the oh so familiar grin returned to his wet lips. Since he was taking this so well, you might as well speeding up the process. With one snap of your hip, you pushed the rest of it inside him, your pelvis hitting his ass. “NgGGHhh~!! Ah- f-fuck, so good, more, ha- mHm, do me harder ♡♥︎!” Sampo cried out, hands wrapped around his own ankle, grip tightening with all his might. He wanted to trash around so bad, though the restrains weren’t bulging in the slightest. Keeping him in check, unmoving and restricted.

Without wasting much time, you began moving, thrusting your dick in and out of him at a fast pace. “AhHh!” He moaned at the sensation, at you rubbing against his walls and hitting places so deep inside him that it made him see stars. Then you leaned closer to him, grabbing his hair again as you whispered into his ear, “You said harder? Let’s see if you can take it then.” After that you licked his earlobe, running your tongue all over the shell while moving your hips ruthlessly. “NGhhh! Y/nnn~! Ah, t-touch me more!” He whimpered, wanting you to show some attention to his leaking member, but you ignored him.

Instead, you opened your mouth and bit his shoulder, trying to raise the speed even more. The hand on his hip gripped him harsh enough to leave bruises, the other one accidentally ripped off some strains of hair from his scalp. You bit down even more when his voice hitched, enough to draw out some fresh drops of blood. At this point he was a withering mess, crying with such a dumb yet blissful expression on his face, his blush spread to his shoulders as well. “OoOhhhH, AHHnnHgg fuuuck!! There, r-right there, so good, fuck me more, more!!” A series of unintelligible words left him, echoing through the lust-ridden room.

The pain he felt from your rough treatment, from the newly gotten bruises and wounds all faded away the moment you found his sweet spot. Not only that, you’ve been abusing that poor area with such brutality he felt like he was gonna die. Each time the tip pressed and hammered against that spot, his head would empty themselves and more tears would fell from his eyes. Drool was hanging out of his mouth as you relentlessly pounded into him, panting and doing your best to keep the tempo up.

“Hah… this is hardly a punishment for you, isn’t it?” You scoffed under your breath, feeling a little bothered by it. That’s why you slapped and scratched his butt again, cursing out, “look at what a fucking pervert you are, Sampo koski.” After drawing some blood with your nails, you insulted him, smirking sadistic. His face was quite a sight to behold, so chaotic and blushy, so damn adorable. “UhHHmm!~♡♥︎ GuUughhh!!” All he did was whimpering and moaning like some dog in heat, struggling against his restrains while his cock leaked his filthy pre onto the bed. With all the remaining strength he had, he meekly trust his hips back against you, trying to get you to go even further.

Then you stopped, very abruptly. “Ah-ahhh..?” A confused squeak escaped him. Hands still holding his hips while he sobbed into the pillow, but you didn’t move at all. “Shall I just leave you like this? Considering you aren’t seeing this as a punishment.” You asked yourself, though talked loud enough for him to hear, you wanted him to know. “uhhh- huuu~?? N-no! Don’t stop y-yet!” His voice was rough and hoarse from his screaming his lungs out. That man really has no shame considering how loud his volume was the entire time.

He turned his head back, trying to look at you. And when he did, a shiver ran down his spine, almost enough to push him over the edge. You were smiling with your eyes, a dangerous look, one that told him to run away r he’d regret it. But, to him, he was already too deep in this mess to escape. This was going to be a long night for him, and he knew since the beginning. “You wanna cum, Sampo?” You began, leaning down to his level again. By doing so you pushed your dick a little deeper in and he whined at the friction. The male didn’t respond with words, he only nodded his head hesitantly, meekly. A sense of fear and pleasure bubbling inside him. How he loved to feel like nothing next to you.

Next thing he knew you clasped one hand over his eyes and wrapped the other one around his throat, squeezing him, about it choke him. “Be a good boy and endure it. If I’m satisfied, I’ll let you cum.”

His heart pounded against his chest, he felt lightheaded. All the ecstasy and anticipation was making him dizzy with lust. He didn’t even have to think twice before groaning with a low voice, “yes, please, toy with me. Kill me with your love♡”

[makeyoumine69]

Call Me Babydoll 5

PAIRING: DBF!Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Patrick stays in your mind even after the disastrous Dorsia incident. Like a song you can't get out of your head, he continues to hum his sultry and sensual words and ways into your ears and heart. When he arrives unexpectedly with a surprise guest, he cannot deny that he is attracted to you. But is this even real?

CONTAINS: Angst, smut, masturbation (f), obsessive behavior, cursing and use of pet names, smoking, gaslighting & manipulation, humiliation & hyperfixation, Daddy kink, making out, marking, biting.

WORDS: 3.5k

A/N: Sorry to make you wait so long, I hope to get in shape soon and post more often!🥰

LINKS: [Ch.4]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [MASTERLIST]

Your mind was a complete mess, your heart nothing but glass dust. The echoes of your private conversation with Patrick on the outdoor terrace of Dorsia still lingered in your mind even after you returned home, though you couldn't remember how you made it since you had declined Bateman's offer to take you to your house.

The first thing you noticed when you crossed the threshold of your home was a strong, sweet scent of flowers. It was a familiar perfume that you already hated.

"Y/n? I thought you were already asleep in your room," and there she was - your father's girlfriend named Sophia, meeting you in the hall, smiling mischievously as she caught you doing something criminal. "Where have you been?"

Sophia was a middle-aged woman with Greek roots, she was really a nice person, always so kind and friendly to you, and most importantly - she never tried to replace your mother, for which you were very grateful. 

"I had dinner," you replied tiredly as you took off your coat. "Not a good one."

"Ouch…" She gave you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before continuing. "Don't be sad, honey. You're an incredible person and I'm sure that one day you'll meet the right person." Sophia cheered this, smiling as if her words were a prediction of the future. "With whom you will feel that everything is in the right place."

Sighing, you tried to master something close to a smile. "Thank you, Soph." As much as you wanted to share your worries with her, you couldn't because she could tell your father everything. "I'm so exhausted I could fall asleep right here."

"Go rest," she mused, watching you go upstairs. "Tomorrow your father and I are going to visit my family."

"Good luck with that." You replied before disappearing from her vision.

It was obvious that you wouldn't be able to sleep tonight, thanks to the endless thoughts that looped in your head like a broken record.

Why did you ever think that a man like Bateman could really take you seriously? You felt deceived, embarrassed and madly frustrated, because at the end of the day, Patrick was just playing with you like a toy, twisting you perfectly around his finger. 

Fidgeting in your bed, you accidentally recalled the memories of the day he was here - you could still feel the remnants of his hypnotizing cologne as your sheets smelled of him. A lonely tear slid down your cheek, outlining the beautiful shape of your face - now so dull and dejected. 

If only you could rewind time and not allow him to get close to you, not even for an inch. Sobbing, you curled up like a kitten, pressed your knees to your chest and tried to drift off, but every time you closed your eyes - his gorgeous face popped up in your mind, making you believe that he really had blessed you with a curse. A curse to be obsessed with the man who would never be yours.

It had been a week since you had seen Bateman, and somehow you had even managed to live through your depression and hide it from your father, although it was quite difficult due to his numerous questions about your sad face and bad mood. At work, some of your co-workers were also trying to figure out what was wrong with you, so you finally decided to take a few days off to relax and get your life back on track.

In the morning of one of those days, you suddenly found yourself writhing on the sheets, breathing heavily and drenched in sweat. With an irritated groan, you threw the blanket aside, accidentally touching your painfully hard nipples. 

Oh shit, not again.

Closing your eyes, you didn't even notice that you were dreaming about him for the third fucking time in a row. You let out a muffled gasp as your trembling hand snaked down your belly between your half-opened legs to the center of your desire.

It was just impossible to resist.

"Aww, Daddy," you moaned softly, imagining it was his hand caressing your taut folds. "Please...I need more..."

Embarrassed but absolutely horny, you spread your legs wider, letting your own digits slide along your dripping pussy, and kept picturing his beautiful face as he praised you for being such a good girl for him. 

A loud gasp echoed through your room at the memory of his velvety, deep voice, playing in your head as if Bateman was really here, next to you, his hand wrapped tightly around your trembling throat as he wanted nothing more than to bring you to your climax, to see you collapse right before his dark hazel eyes.

"Mmhm, Patrick..." you frowned and shivered, your ministrations growing more impatient as you rubbed circling motions into your throbbing clit while feeling the impending orgasm building in your core. "Patrick, Patrick, please!"

To muffle your obscene moans, you had to bite the pillow next to you as you reached your climax, never stopping to massage your feverish nub. 

'You are so naughty, Babydoll. Look at the mess you have made.'

The echo of his sexy voice resounded in your clouded mind, prolonging your intense orgasm and you couldn't help but cradle your breast, only to pinch your hard little tip as you craved more. 

But unfortunately, after the haze of ecstasy wore off and you were finally able to think clearly, the bitter realization that it was all an illusion washed over you like a tidal wave, leaving you completely broken. It felt as if you had put all your energy into getting that high, and now you could barely move, feeling satisfied yet devastated.

Over the next few hours, you showered several times and refused to leave your room, no matter how much your father and Sophia tried to convince you. Shame and despair were eating you alive from the inside out, draining all your positive emotions like parasites.

Whenever you tried to distract yourself by reading, you were annoyed by your mind tricks because every character's name starting with the letter P automatically became 'Patrick'. 

You hated that man for infesting your mind, body, and soul. Before meeting Bateman, you even thought you were frigid, but now...now you were ready to climb on the walls from the consuming desire to be...possessed? Owned? Marked? 

A loud knock at the door interrupted your train of thought and you barely stopped yourself from squeaking - all these days, since you started having nasty dreams with Patirck, you felt like you were doing something bad and someone from your household could catch you. Quickly you approached the door to your room and after unlocking it, you let your vision - which turned out to be your father - in. 

"I thought you were taking a nap," he chuckled, but then his face changed when he saw your tired eyes. "Are you sure you're not sick, (y/n)?"

"I'm not sick, Dad," you rolled your eyes and crossed your hands over your chest, ready to be lectured again. "Did something happen? I was in the middle of proofreading."

Your father hummed, tilting his head to the side. "You took a few days off to work at home?"

Scowling with annoyance, you leaned against the door and mumbled: "It helps me relax and clear my head."

"Well, I just wanted to let you know that Patrick is here," you felt the ground disappear under your feet as he spoke. "He came to sign some papers and I thought you might like to join us in the living room. Soph made your favorite apple pie."

This information made your temples ache with tension, and you had to massage them to ease the stabbing pain. "Father, I... I'm not really in the mood for guests."

Especially when this guest was Patrick Bateman.

Your father just sighed and stepped back, which meant he wasn't going to try to convince you. Most of all, you hated to upset your family, even though you didn't want to see Bateman, not after the things that had happened to you during these long, crazy days.

"Okay, okay," you knew you would regret it, but now you didn't see any other option. "I'll be back soon."

With that, you closed the door, feeling the panic rising in your chest. It seemed that your father still thought that you were still on good terms with Patrick, since you had not told him anything about that damn dinner. Trying to pull yourself together, you quickly went to the mirror to freshen up a bit - the fact that you were worried about what Bateman would think of your appearance still bothered you, but there was nothing you could do about it.

Almost fifteen minutes later, you finally came downstairs, wearing a short black top and your favorite tight jeans, and no, you weren't trying to impress him - a little spice wouldn't hurt.

As you approached the living room, you began to hear a cacophony of different voices: your dad's, Sophia's, and another unfamiliar female voice that made you stop in confusion around the corner. Who was that?

"(Y/n), don't be shy, come here." Your father's comment made you frown and bite your lip in embarrassment as you felt like you were transferred back to your childhood.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped into the living room and immediately became the center of everyone's attention. Your eyes quickly found the owner of the unknown voice - a pretty blonde girl sitting next to Patrick with a small notebook in her elegant hands. 

Another blonde, huh? 

Putting on a friendly fake smile, you managed to hide your frustration and walked closer to the couch to take a seat next to your father, completely ignoring Bateman's intense gaze.

"Uh, this is Jean, Patrick's assistant," your father introduced the blonde girl to you, and she smiled shyly when you raised your eyes to her. "Jean, this is (y/n), my lovely daughter."

"Nice to meet you, (y/n)," Jean murmured and turned to look at Patrick, as if looking for his approval. When he said nothing, she continued. "Patrick has told me a lot about you."

"Really?" You replied skeptically, your hands already crossed over your chest as you desperately tried to keep your composure. "How nice."

Somehow your father managed to notice the growing tension between the two of you, and his little cough caught everyone's attention. "Sorry, my throat gets dry from time to time."

"No need to apologize, Mr. (y/l/n)," Bateman suddenly joined the conversation, causing you to almost jump in your seat. "How about your lovely daughter making us some drinks?" His white-toothed smile was blinding, but you did your best not to react to this provocation.

"Yeah, sure. I'll make them." You stood up quickly, seeing this as a great opportunity to escape.

"Let me help you!" Jean suddenly suggested.

"No no no, you don't have to!"

"Hey, let her help you," Patrick put forward and tapped Jean's knee several times, which you couldn't miss. "It's better not to refuse people's help, because we live in such a cruel world. You know what I mean, (y/n?)" 

His smug wink at you made your hands clench into fists, but you decided not to argue with him and just stumbled out of the living room, hearing Jean's soft footsteps behind you.

In the kitchen, the two of you didn't try to strike up a conversation, feeling uncomfortable but not hostile. With casual confidence, you took out two glasses and three cups under the attentive gaze of Patrick's assistant.

"Whiskey for the boys and coffee for the girls," you hummed to yourself, finally glancing at Jean, who was standing shyly in the doorway. "Maybe you want something else?"

"No," she gasped when you asked her. "Coffee is fine."

"Good."

As the blonde woman watched you make the coffee, she came closer and looked around the kitchen. "'Your house is very cozy."

"Thank you," you gave her a warm smile and picked up a silver tray for the cups. "My mother used to love an atmosphere like this," your sudden confession made you stop everything for a moment and Jean noticed your tension. "She would be very touched by your compliment."

The sad undertone in your words made the woman pause and think about what to say next, and you used the moment to get additional things for the coffee, including sugar, cream and vanilla. 

"I would only ask you to help me with this," you nodded at the nearly full tray. "And I'll take glasses and a bottle."

"Okay," Jean picked up some napkins before taking a deep breath. "Patrick was right when he said you were a lovely girl."

Frowning, you almost spilled the last cup of coffee when you heard those words. "Uh, I don't understand why you were talking about me at all."

"Well, we talked about you when I made the reservation for your dinner in Dorsia."

An awkward silence hung in the air for some time before you managed to pull yourself together and place all the cups on the shimmering tray. "Mmhm-yeah, that dinner was something, I have to admit," you let out a nervous chuckle, not wanting to remember the events of that evening. "Do you like him?"

"W-what?" Jean blushed almost instantly, her beautiful blue eyes averted from your curious gaze and she had to fix her stray lock of hair behind her ear. "He's my boss, and I like working with him."

"Is he a good boss?"

"Yes, he is."

Satisfied with her answer, you crossed your arms and grinned. "Glad to hear it, I mean seriously," you watched her bat her long eyelashes as you moved the tray over to her. "I think you two look great together."

Exhaling, Jean took the tray and giggled sheepishly. "What makes you think that anyway?"

"I just noticed the way he looks at you," you replied frankly, picking up the glasses. "Thanks for the help. Now I have to get a drink for the boys."

With that, you cast your most sincere smile before retreating from the kitchen, and once you were out in the hall, your face became blank and dull. The things you just said - were they just some kind of masochism? You kept asking yourself as you walked to your father's office, where he kept his favorite drinks that he only served to special guests.

Carefully, with cat-like grace, you touched a doorknob when you noticed that the door was half open. Concerned, you quickly turned around and when you saw no one, you quickly opened it and stepped inside, only to freeze in shock and it was a fucking miracle that you didn't let the glasses fall down on the floor.

Bateman was standing with his back to you, so at first you hoped he wouldn't notice, but as soon as you turned on your heels, the man spun around and the sight of you made him smile mischievously and absolutely charmingly.

"Wrong door?" Patrick chuckled and shifted his position so that you could now see him holding a bottle and a lit cigar in the other hand.

"You can't smoke in my house," you said in an irritated voice. "I'm serious."

"Oh, stop it," his mocking chuckle echoed in your ears, annoying you more and more. "Your father gave me permission. Besides, he told me he had a bottle of J&B, so I decided to take it myself, since you two were very slow."

Having said that, the man puffed on his cigar and blew several rings of smoke, causing you to cover your mouth as you started to cough. The sheer arrogance he radiated was poisonous and somehow suffocating, it was like a tight rope around your neck, no snuff could affect you like that.

"Why did you send Jean with me?"

"And why didn't you answer my calls?" Bateman interjected sternly, closing the distance between the two of you.

The sudden question made you lose your balance for a second. "Calls? What calls? I... I don't even understand what you're talking about."

With a cheeky grin, Patrick took a drag on his cigar and blew right into your face. "Hmmm, let me remember," he leaned against the door and cocked his head to the side. "The one right after dinner, and the one the next day, and the one two days after that."

It was strange, because all these days no one had ever told you about Patrick's calls, and you thought that if he had really made them, your father would definitely have told you, since he wanted you two to get along so much.

"All right, let's pretend that you really did call me, but I can't understand why?"

"You seemed very upset after dinner," the man strove to parry your provocative question, though his eyes glowed with the thrill of the challenge you were giving him. "I just wanted to check on you, since your old man is worried about you too much, and... I didn't need any trouble to close the deal."

Another disappointment.

"Business above all, huh?" No matter how hard you tried to hide the pain, your voice still sounded somber. 

"Shhh," his sudden touch on your lower lip caused something heavy to fall in your stomach. "Don't be like that, Babydoll. I'm just doing my job."

"Even now?" You taunted him blatantly, though your panting could be clearly heard in the room.

The sexual tension between the two of you was palpable in the air, but you both remained still, even when Bateman approached your neck to inhale your sweet scent, mixing it with the sharp smell of snuff.

What the hell were you doing? 

When Bateman pulled away to place the bottle on the nearby bookshelf, he grabbed the glasses you were holding so desperately that your fingers began to curl. Then the man squeezed the cigar between his white teeth and, with practiced ease, picked you up and carried you to your father's desk. As he set you down on the wooden tabletop, he didn't let you protest, pressing his large palm over your mouth.

"Now, now, little girl," he cooed, exhaling smoke before pulling you a little closer. "C'mere, I'm going to show you something."

Carefully but determinedly, Patrick grabbed your chin and drew you closer so that your mouths were barely an inch apart. Pressing his thumb along your lips, the man forced you to part them, and in the next moment, he blew some smoke into your mouth before sealing it with his own. Intoxicated by both the smoke and Patrick's sudden intrusion, your hands clutched desperately at his broad shoulders, cramping the expensive fabric of his pinstriped suit. After all these days of desperate need for his touch, this kiss was like a sip of water in the desert; it was vital and overwhelming. With every breath you took, Bateman's movements became bolder, less tentative and more demanding; his warm hand slipped under your short top to caress your shoulder blades with feathery strokes that almost drove you to moan against his lips, but you struggled to stop yourself.

"Patrick," you gasped after breaking the kiss. "What the hell are we doing?

"You tell me, Babydoll." 

"No, because it was you who told me you didn't want to be a babysitter. Did you forget?" 

When you tried to slide off the desk, he wouldn't let you, pressing you closer to his strong body and finally putting his cigar in the ashtray not far from where he was holding you. "I always remember my own words…" With that, he placed both his hands on either side of your knees before moving them slowly up along your hips and God, Bateman was doing it so damn slow on purpose, forcing you to jolt from the strange tension in your lower belly - the feeling that had become your personal drug. "Oh, don't pretend you don't like it. Your body speaks for itself."

You tried to pull away from him as you couldn't stand the way his hazel eyes were stripping you down, but the more you struggled, the more Patrick grew impatient, so he just yanked roughly by your hair, forcing you to tilt your head back and expose your delicate neck, which Patrick didn't miss the chance to mark, biting your tender flesh and then sucking the mark with a muffled groan.

There was something feral about him and that 'something' was making your body respond to his every touch, every little contact.

Nuzzling your cheek, Bateman lowered one of his hands to your bare stomach, drawing invisible lines along it before suddenly cupping your throbbing pussy through the tight material of your jeans, making you squeal and shake on the desk.

Just as Patrick was about to kiss you again, you both noticed a commotion coming from behind the door and then realized it was your father, you both didn't even have a chance to move as the door was quickly opened, revealing a very compromising picture.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[justpassingbyoursht]

Yknow when I first saw Chronos i couldn't quite take him seriously bc he's... he's a twink. who gave him that tiny tiny waist and those birthgiving hips? why is he built like that? i expected a giant or something, i mean the big 3 brothers are built ykno their father should be big muscly guy too right?? and then i realized he's got an hourglass shape and. 😶

my bad supergiant u are right. titan of time. hourglass. titan of time? hourglass. checks out ✓ he is hourglass shaped. an hourglass. ⌛that. that is him. titan of time alright. hourglass

but still that tiny waist

[salty-autistic-writer]

A little headcanon fic. Buck and Tommy talk about scars and Chimney. ~

“And this one?” Buck asks, tracing a long moon-shaped silver scar on Tommy’s arm.

“Cut myself while working on a car,” Tommy says. “It happened before. But never like this. This bitch of a cut didn’t stop bleeding. Sal had to drive me to the hospital where they stitched me up. He was constantly complaining about how I was bleeding all over his car seats even though we wrapped a towel around my arm.”

Buck hums. His eyes wander over Tommy’s stretched-out body. All that exposed skin. So much skin. And a lot of scars. Every single one tells a story. He wants to know them all.

“This one?” He asks, gently touching a circle of raised skin on Tommy’s shoulder.

“Got shot during my time in the military. Didn’t even really notice. I was too focused on flying us out of there. I only noticed when I got dizzy from blood loss and someone from my team took over, landing the chopper. The bullet went right through. Fortunately, it didn’t hit anything important.”

Buck swallows. He stares at the scar. Tommy could have died back then. He almost died a few more times after that, of course. Buck focuses on the shrapnel scars, which always look more like a flower tattoo to him. His throat tightens as he realizes once again, how dangerous their jobs are. Death is a constant shadow lurking in the corner.

“You have to be more careful,” he says pointedly, putting his head on Tommy’s warm chest with a content sigh.

Tommy raises a brow. “Says the guy who stumbles into a life-threatening event twice a year.”

Buck shrugs. “It’s not like I want to. They seem to find me.”

“Maybe it’s just the 118,” Tommy muses. “Maybe it is cursed after all.”

“Now you sound just like Chimney,” Buck chuckles.

Tommy smiles. “That reminds me … I still have to properly thank Howie.”

Buck frowns in confusion. “Why?”

“Well, if he hadn’t saved my life, I wouldn’t be here now. And if he hadn’t called me for help with saving Bobby and Athena, I wouldn’t have met you,” Tommy says seriously.

Buck freezes. He raises his head from Tommy’s chest, staring at him. “Wait. Chimney saved your life?!”

“Yeah. Back when he joined the 118, he dragged my unconscious ass out of an exploding building even though I was an insufferable idiot who first insulted, then ignored him. They told me about it in the hospital. I felt horrible. Later we talked and hugged. He gave me his number. Told me we could go for a beer after shift sometime. It was the first time after the army that I dared to open up a little more to a colleague. Friend, now. Of course.”

“Wow,” Buck breathes. “I had no idea. He never told me. Guess I have to thank him too.”

Tommy chuckles and brushes his fingers through Buck’s hair. “Yeah. Well, Howie is way too quiet about how awesome he is. Let’s buy him a fruit basket.”

“Or,” Buck says, a grin spreading on his face. “Let’s bake him a heart-shaped cake with “for our favourite matchmaker” on it. He loves those cakes.”

Right?

[jujutsukgojo]

The Fourth Leg

chrollo lucilfer x reader

Summary: No matter how fast you ran, the Spider's leg cannot get far. No matter how long you hid, you were bound to be found, dear number four. WARNING: toxic relationships, mentions of murder and torture, bullying, murder plot, smut, idk what else? yandere? 18+ Smut scene is based on Fear (1996). I saw it and it crept up on me Chapter one

You’ll always be able spot the blond haired boy from a mile away. His blond locks are longer now, and his eyes are colder. They aren’t the same light grey they used to be when he was around. A small smile comes across your face when you look to see what your boy is wearing: his traditional Kurta attire.  

  When the massacre happened and you had run into Sheila, she informed you of everything there was to know about the Kurta. So, while he was housed by you, you made those clothes for him. And now that he’s a little older, he still wears the clothes you send him.  

  Kurapika left home to get his hunter’s license. He was determined and able. Just like you shaped him to be. Alas, there is something there that you once again failed to save. Just like before, like always.  

  That rageful bloodlust that confuses the host for justice and vengeance when it is neither one. It is darkness that lurks into them and finally settles into their souls.  

He is falling for the same trick as you and your dearest friends had. They entered a place and left every smidge of hope they had. What was supposed to be for justice, protection, and Sarasa, resulted in a numbness that is too disgusting to handle. It’s too brutal and vile. Bloody without a thought of washing their hands with repentance.

No matter, the tightness of your chest has you think of one thing: is it too late to save Kurapika?  

  You go back inside and wash the dishes that you dirtied from cooking his favorites. He had let you know he was coming. It is such a rarity to even be able to contact Kurapika. He’s just so busy lately. That, and he acts like he has never worked a phone before in his life. The little shit.  

  Thunder and lightning strike, shaking the ground beneath you. A slight rumble under your bare feet. You look out the window again and see a ghost from your past. Tall, silver haired, and just as beefy as before: Silva Zodlyck. You haven’t seen him since he killed you.  

  If he spots you, it will be a brawl. Another side of you that you have buried, not exorcised, all these years are calling out for his blood. To wreak havoc once more and see the fear in his eyes again. The bad thing about that is, is that you are a non combatant. An exorcist, a priestess of sorts. Not at all suited for the front lines. You can defend yourself and fight, but not on the level of him or the others.  

Hell, maybe not even Kurapika now, and you wiped that boy’s tears and snot.  

What you can do now is remain low. As much as you want to see that little brat and talk to him, to find out how he’s been, to fuss over him and see if he’s eaten yet, right now you can’t even consider that. Not when he is close to finding out. Besides, he can take care of himself for a bit. As it appears, Silva isn’t after him.  

  Breathe in, breathe out. Focus on me, trust in me.  

Your breath hitches. That smooth voice is in your head. One you haven’t heard of in years. With all the power inside, you tried to push it out. To wipe their faces from your memories.   

  You see the trash can and can only think of Little. Oh, how you tortured that boy. Putting him in trashcans and sitting on the lids and gave him noogies. Little would always retaliate but had to be held back when that one showed up to protect you. God, why are you thinking of this? There is a beast of a man who almost ended you and your dumbass is reminiscing of your bullying days.  

  Had you not pulled that one trick up your sleeve, you truly would have died by the hands of Zoldyck. It has been years since you’ve fought seriously. You trained Kurapika, but you never went full throttle. Nothing but rust is on your nen and hand-to-hand combat.

  Just sit back, don’t hide your presence or anything. That's what he’s looking for. Any kind of blip in the atmosphere. Hell, he may not even remember you!  

_____________

  You know what you have to do. There is no hope here. No compassion for others at all. The Kurta clan, Sarasa, you, no one. It is now or never.  

  You jump at the bolder of a man. Crosses paint themselves on your palms as a holy prayer escapes your lips. Your veins line with the brightest blue and the rubble around you lift off the ground from your aura. Directly, your hands clasp onto Silva’s. He looks confused and the most surprising of all, scared.

He lets go of his hatsu. In the back, there is a bloody scream. A roar that a lion can never compare itself to. A bloodlust from the roar that made Silva’s eyes widen. It is too late, the hatsu hit you straight on. Two balls of electricity and power collide with your fragile body.  

   When you came to, by pure nen, you could vaguely see your dearest. His eyes watery, voice hoarse, blood trinkling on his face. Silva is not in sight, not a single thing left behind. Did he kill him? 

  “No, no, no, damn it! Fuck!” He shakes you ever so slightly as you lay in his arms. “Heal yourself, please...”  

  You have to leave. He has no regard for you or anyone but himself. Chrollo, the boy who is only a few years older than you, yet you still bullied him, is gone. He didn’t care that you’re a non combatant. He was willing to sacrifice your life and his for his ego.  

  He only wants your ability, positively. Chrollo is gone. It is only the spider left. You have always hated spiders anyway.  

________________

Nah, Silva remembers you. He almost died too. How can he forget that he was sent to kill the man responsible for the annihilation of an entire clan? It's hard to forget a case like that considering the brutality of the deaths.   

  And if Kurapika finds out that you are Number Four, the lost spider, he’ll lose it. He'll demand to see the tattoo, no doubt. You can’t show him that. Especially since you lost a bet with Machi and Paku and put it on a place that he just has no business looking at.   

  As long as you remain calm and blend in, no one will notice. If Kurapika comes in with Silva, you’ll leave before. Pretend that you are out of town or something. Actually, that’s a good idea. You quickly write a note telling your boy that you had to rush out and that you’d call him later. To help himself to the food and make sure to rest.  

  There is another rumble under your feet. It feels different. The screams are louder, the air more ominous by the second. What is this? It touches you like a familiar hand. Something cold and clammy. Is that...Nobunaga?  

  Don't panic, don’t panic. It's been years since you faked your death and abandoned them. They probably don’t remember you, right?  

 Nah, you pantsed Nobunaga in the middle of a dubbing. He was wearing the ranger’s underwear. He always vowed to get revenge, but he was stopped by Chrollo, of course. You’ve known these people for years and fought with them side by side. You saved him several times and healed him. He will remember you.  

  There is a deathly silence. Your skin raises goosebumps all over. You can feel him. Your old friend knows or is at least trying to figure out what’s going on. You take a deep breath and remain calm. It has always been easy to trick him. How many times did you do such a thing and lead him to embarrassing situations?   And how many times did Chrollo get you out? Every. Single. Time.  

You sure were spoiled rotten by Chrollo in every way. It drove people nuts. When you were dropped off in Meteor City at the age of five, you were a terror due to pain and heartbreak. There was only so much a child could take and you weren’t able to express it properly.  

  The priest held onto patience as much as he could, but no one could ever hold a candle to Chrollo’s patience. It is as if he is a saint. You'd bite, kick, and talk over him. When they dubbed the tapes, you would always turn the tv off just because it wasn’t what you wanted to watch. Uvogin was so close to beating you so many times, but Chrollo intervened and explained to them what empathy was.   

  However, he went overboard and spoiled you rotten. In the Troupe you got part of Chrollo’s shares including what was actually yours. He made sure that you were the most taken care of out of them all. He always helped you up and protected you the most. You weren’t able to go on a mission by yourself and had to have at least two people with you, just like him.  

He always held a soft spot for you, you think. Even before you shared special moments. Until he stopped caring and went somewhere where you can’t follow.  

Now that you have abandoned the Spider, Lord only knows what’ll happen. Will he spare you for old time’s sake? Or will Feitan, also known as “Little”, finally get his revenge because of the trash cans?  

  Or Machi’s cut up clothes, and Paku’s shaved head, or Uvo’s wedgies and bites, Phinks’s eyebrows that never grew back, Shalnark’s broken nose and the tack in his sho-  

Oof, you’re going to die. And that was all done when you were like, six? There were plenty more years that you were just onery. Chrollo...that poor guy. The hell he went through before and after the Troupe...the patience of a saint.  

Spoiled, spoiled, spoiled, rotten.    

You were ungoverned and got away with things that the rest couldn’t. But this, rejecting the Spider, rejecting him, sheltering the last Kurta descendant...you’ll die.  

  Or be in a lot of pain.  

Suddenly, you feel a sharpness crawling up your arm. They're coming.  Another rumble occurs right when you back away from the sink. In the distance is a large body flying in the air with a trail of red following it. What?  

With a gross thud that you swear everyone heard, lands Silva. Beaten, bloody, gone.  

   Well, there goes that problem. On to the next, which is Nobunaga. You're caught in his en somehow. Or whatever the hell that's called. Anyway, never did you think he’d grow and be able to stretch it out this far. 

  You start to leave calmly so he doesn’t suspect anything. Just a calm person that his en is confusing for someone else! Finally, you hear the even more terrible commotion. You know Kurapika is okay if the rumors of the powerful chain user are true. And he seemed to have a lot of help. Once you shake the Nobunaga off, you’ll make your way to Pika.  

  He doesn’t know that in your past you were one of the Spider’s legs. The fourth one, to be exact. The one who died by the hands of Silva Zoldyck, years ago. Soon after the Kurta’s extinction and after the fight with the Spider’s leader, the devil himself.

You lock the backdoor and head to the woods where there is a safe spot that Kurapika used to train. As you pass by the branches and the shady trees, you are blinded by the harsh memories of your dear friend, Sarasa. She and the Troupe are a few years older than you. They spent more time with her than you did but the memories of her, those precious moments that you wanted to last for years to come, that innocence, was stripped from you. You hold onto the specks of what was left of your childhood, before the truth of hell appeared.  

   A trash bag, a child inside, the Troupe, and Chrollo who faced it first and has never recovered.  

You weren’t there to find her. It was broken down to you because of your youth and denial, you were staunch in the belief that it was a lie and that she was alive. The only one who had patience for you was Chrollo. The tantrums were the tipping point to the realization that she had suffered in her last moments.   

  When it hit you, he held you as you remained in shock. He catered to your every whim to fill in the shoes of the missing people in your life. And you left him.  

How could you not? He left you first, abandoned you for a darkness that you couldn’t shine a light through. Chrollo believed that he was a messiah to the city and to his friends. They follow blindly when you can’t. You are a thief, not a heartless killer. The Kurta didn’t deserve their fate.  

 You push past a couple of thick bushes to be startled. 

  “Come here, now.” His voice is as smooth as you remember, just a little deeper now and more commanding. Although you know him and his quirks, the atmosphere is off. A creepy feeling of nothing in the air. You can’t sense him of his anger at all. Only a chill and a hair-raising sensation that doesn’t match anyone you know. Perhaps, this is fear.  

   You walk to him as you spot him in a clearing. “Chrollie.”   

“A dead spider, huh.” He stands tall but casually with his hands in his pockets. His hair is slicked back and the tattoo on his forehead is more prominent. He’s shirtless and wears an odd coat. His style choice is different now than it was back then. Before, he would throw on normal Meteor City clothing, which consisted of whatever was around. Looking back, his favorite was a white shirt and plain black jeans. Now, he looks like he wears designer. 

  “Here I thought that you were squashed,” he looks you up and down, eyes narrowing. You feel vulnerable under his gaze. “All along you were here. Raising a devil that killed two of your own.”  

You know about Uvogin and Pakunoda. Kurapika felt so guilty, after the events he vented to you. He sounded as young as he did when you took him in. Of course, you were hurt and cried when Kurapika wasn't looking. You mourned them as anyone would. 

  “I know about that-”  

“And you still didn’t come back?” Chrollo is shaking, desperate to calm down. His fists are clenched so hard, you think they’ll bleed. This, you think, is the most anger he's ever shown. And it's toward you.  “Could I? You would’ve killed me!”  

“I would have accepted you with open arms, Number Four.” Would have.   

Number Four. He didn’t even call you by your real name. “No, you would react just as badly as you are now.”  

“Oh, my darling spider, you have no idea. All you had to do is trust me.” He shakes his head in disappointment. 

_____________

“I’m not joining, Chrollie. I’m not calling you Boss, either.” You were disappointed that they actually went through with this. Years ago, you came across their little meeting. Chrollie looked at you and asked if you wanted to join but you called them all stupid.  

“Why not? I'm the leader.” You roll your eyes. “No, you’re a theater nerd.”  

You jump and sit on the desk. He comes up to you, only inches apart. Chrollie gently cradles your face. “That part of me is gone, darling.”  

“Darling? Pretending to be all manly now? A gentleman? That's what 'darling' reminds me of. Those books you read.” You acknowledge that he’s grown up. He broader and stronger. His hands no longer smooth but are calloused and bigger than your own.  

He erases how gentle he was caressing your face and replaces it with a commanding and firm touch on your cheeks. “Join me.”  

  “No.” You answer as well as you can with your cheeks squished. Suddenly, his lips touch yours. It is your first kiss. It sends shocks to your special place. He parts from you. Embarrassingly, you follow in his direction.  

  Quickly, you snap out of the trance of your first kiss. You shake your head in defiance. “I want to travel! I want to get out of this city and experience the highs. I've already touched the lows. I don’t want to get deeper.”

"You think we’re lower than you?” There’s an edge in his tone. One that tells you to tread carefully. However, you’re not shy when it comes to Chrollie.  

“No. But I worry that you will be.” He tilts his head and asks, “Because you think I can’t take you to the there?”  

  He grabs your hand that is so much larger than yours. It's weird now. You are used to him leading you places but now you just realize the difference between you two. He’s...a man now. It’s all so new. You'll never admit that he makes you feel some type of way.  

“Let me show you.”  

Just like in the movies, you see a roller coaster for the first time. There are lights everywhere and smiling and laughing people. And not at you! Just the joys of life without worrying where the next meal is coming from. You spot the balloons in various animal shapes and see the fluffy candy. The pretzels are soft, and the fried dough the size of your head is to die for. You have never witnessed such freedom. The last time you have seen an inkling of joy was when you were a child and Chrollie was dubbing tapes. 

   The two of you get on the back of the ride. You cling onto his arm. “Scared?”  

“No!” In truth, you were. Never in your life did you ever see one of these in person. Only on the videos Chrollo would pick up. It showed the ride going fast and high with screaming people. There were twists and sharp turns on the tape. And now, you get to be one of those people to experience it.

The ride starts. He wraps his right arm around you. The roller coaster shoots out causing you to flinch.  

“I got you, trust me.” You curl into him as the ride takes a sharp turn. Right after it happened, you feel tracing between your legs. You look down and see Chrollie’s fingers rubbing against you.   

  It's...feeling really good. Your breaths become quicker as his fingers do figure eights through your underwear. You let out a little shriek when he pulls them down. Now, there’s nothing blocking him from you. The ride takes a sudden left. 

  You don’t know how it happened, how it led to this. What exactly did you say to him that incited him to massage your bud and insert a single finger inside you. Slowly coaxing moans that blend in with the screaming of everyone else. Never have you been so grateful for that. He places a kiss on your head. “Join me, swear to me.”  

   Another finger enters you. His palm rubs and presses against you. How are his fingers so long? Why are they bigger than yours and feel so much better?  

  You start to really moan as he goes faster. You lift up slightly to follow his motions with your hips. Chrollie bites and sucks on the spot under your ear. The ride starts to go up.   

“Holy sh-oh God...” You breathily cry. He growls in your ear at the sound. “I’ll take you there, to the highs. So high you’ll never see the ground.”  

You grab his wrist and move furiously, spreading your legs a little more to give him as much room as possible. You want more, need more. There is a feeling there that is about to pop. One that he can take.  

   “Swear to me.” You watch as the stars get closer. People make noises of excitement different than yours, but it blends. “Do you want me to stop?”  

“N-no! I trust you!” You grab onto anything in reach as you give up trying to keep up with him. He's cradling you, his dominant hand relentless and lips sinful. A goose bump raising feeling starts. It's cold and is making you shake even more. Chrollo feels it too.  

He's smiling when you gasp and your head goes back.  

  Everything is happening at once. Two different sensations, both caused by the boss, by Chrollo Lucilfer. And he knows it, he’s waited for it.  

  “Swear to me, trust me!” You grab his leg and squeeze it. “Let me take you there.” He whispers in your ear.  

As the ride reaches the peak, so do you. Loudly, you swear to him. To the spider and his name. His hands and whatever energy is rushing to you, cause your eyes to go back. The squelching sound is loud, but your euphoric moans of his name are louder.   

From what you gather in this state, the ride was supposed to stop. Supposed to stay on the rails rather than bounce a little. You didn't even notice that your aura was the cause for the ride's disruption.

When your high leaves you, you’re in a daze and glowing. He withdraws himself and sucks on his fingers. You gasp at the sight. It is pornographic, the hungry look in his eyes. The grey that you have known for years has become so dark and just by a lick. He grabs your hand gently and leads you away to finish what he started. Your legs shake along the way and for the rest of the night when the two of you are satisfied. The way he licked and sucked and swirled his tongue on the most delicate of places and thrusted himself inside had him gain the scratches on his back.   

The two of you created a memory that neither of you would ever forget.  

It wasn’t until you learn about the nodes do you hold a slight bitterness towards him. He caused yours to open wide because of this. Your aura nodes and a nen pact that binds you together. For the Spider.  

____________

You swallow at the memory and plenty more of similar situations with your former boss. For years you trusted him fully. But somewhere along the way, he had lost it. “Chrollie, please understand. I just didn’t agree with it anymore.”  

“Really?” He scoffs. He knows you are hiding the words to describe how it really was, how it is. You rub your eyes with the palms of your hands.   

“When you killed that entire clan...tortured them, mutilated them...I couldn’t do it anymore. You wouldn’t listen to me. You only thought of yourself.”  

“Excuse me?” His voice is low, and his eyebrows are raised. He's gotten so intimidating now. Before, he was someone you pushed over even when he was your boss. It has always been that way. You admit, you are spoiled. Undisciplined and rebellious to the Spider.  

To Chrollo Lucilfer.  

   If you are going to die today, you are leaving with giving him a piece of your mind. A dose of reality that he no longer has.  

“You completely lost yourself. How can you make dumb decisions like that?”  

“Their eyes gave Meteor City a profit that helped millions. I did it for our city.”   You shake your head no. “No, you did it for yourself. As some kind of sick powerplay! And everyone follows you blindly, and to do it without a thought. You guys kill for no reason. It didn’t use to be that way.”  

 Your lip wobbles at the memory of that day. You had gone up to Chrollo and went against the mission. It was stupid to you. It didn’t make any sense. They were going to kill these people because he wanted their eyes? You understand that he is greedy and increasingly vicious. But not cruel, not before the end. 

  He didn’t yell at you, but he did put you in your place with a stern yet calm voice. It was scary. Just as scary as he is now. You still couldn’t do it though. The thought of it made you cry.

So, he commanded you to keep watch and capture any stragglers. There were none. You ran away from the screams and ran into a boy with blond hair and blue clothing. A Kurta. The last one, to be exact. You begged him not to go over there. Afraid of his fate or him seeing the gruesome crime.  

  The Troupe were not there, only corpses. Eyes gouged out, bruises and bloody. Even the children. Lucilfer had become the devil himself.  

  You, without thought, took the boy in. You found a little village not too far away and raised him in a cottage. Unfortunately, you weren’t there every single day because of your “job”. One he knew nothing about.  

   Until your last day. You and Chrollo had been walking in Meteor City when Silva Zoldyck came. Someone called for him to eliminate the Troupe. Your dearest didn’t care that you aren’t really suited for fighting. Especially a Zoldyck.   

   That was your chance! So, when Silva had hit you with his Hatsu, you hid inside your energy and faked your death. It looked so real, felt like it too. It took a lot of healing and purifying to survive.  

  You had to do it. Your friends had lost their way. You couldn’t go along with it anymore.   

“You left.” You whimper. 

“Are you kidding me? I believe the one who abandoned the Spider, your friends, me, is you. My spoiled little brat .” He takes a few steps closer to your standing frame.   

“You went to a place where I couldn’t follow. It was no longer about finding Sarasa’s killers or protecting the city. The Spider turned evil. I knew it was happening but I didn’t face it until years later when you committed a pointless massacre.” He ignored you and talked over you.  

“You swore. And here I find you healthy, alive. While we are dying. We needed you and you left!” That ended with a powerful yell.   

“You didn’t care about me either. I was no match for Silva yet you were willing to sacrifice me. You went to a place I just couldn’t -can’t- follow.”  

  A tear drips down your face. His face is furious and slicked back hair is coming undone by him running his hand through it. He stops when he sees your tear. Instinct takes over and he wipes it.   

“Uvo, Paku, Shalnark, Korotopi. All gone and you could have stopped it. I was cursed by that boy to never talk to the Troupe again. We had to find an exorcist in Greed Island of all places because you decided we were trash.” His voice deceptively hushed and smooth. You shake your head no.  

“Not trash. Just bad leadership.”   

Chrollo’s eyes widen. This is the first time anyone has insulted his leadership. He immediately pulls your hair. You yelp and try to get out of his hold.  

“And yet you do not complain of the riches I gave your greedy ass.” He growls.  

“You are a profitable leader. A good provider. An excellent one. I hadn’t a need or want in the world,”  

You struggle to get out of his grip. It loosens as you speak. “But you aren’t a true leader. A true one would never endanger his people like you have. Never would view them as replaceable.”  

  He tosses you on the ground. You accidentally land on your wrist. Chrollo paces back and forth. “Replaceable? Bad leader-ha! Oh, love you are something.”  

   He grabs your arms roughly. You try to yank your arm out of his grasp. “You’ve already replaced me!”  

  Chrollo shakes his head no. “I could never.”  

“I’m sorry, Chrollie. I just-you-,” You take a deep breath. “Everything went downhill. We stopped looking for the killers like you promised. We weren’t Robin Hood anymore, either. Remember that story you read me? Take from the rich and give to the poor?”  

“I remember.”  

“It wasn’t that anymore. What was left was coldness and blood. And a boy whose life and childhood were taken from him. Just like ours. It wasn’t fair.”  

  “We support and provide for our home, not some random people.”  

Frustrated, you retort, “You like to listen to the sound of your own voice too much. That's why you don’t listen! You don’t realize actions have consequences until shit like Uvo and Paku happen.”  

  He raises his hand. You flinch to brace for it. This is the first time he will strike you.   

  Time is frozen as you wait for the pain. You open your eyes and see what’s the hold up. Chrollo stands frozen with his hand still in the air still. His face is no longer hardened, but shocked. His mouth is slightly open and eyes have widened. He stares at his open palm as if it had a mind of its own, and he couldn't believe it. 

Then he clears up once again to return to his previous deadly expression. Rather than striking you on your face, he lands his hand on your ass. You yelp at the impact. 

  “ Ow!” You rub the cheek he hit. “Why? Of all things?” Like him hitting your ass was supposed to be better than your face? It's demeaning! 

  He grabs your face with one hand and kisses you harshly, passionately. A confession, a return. Stupidly, you get lost in him like always.  

_______

“No! You play this instead.”  

“But I want to dub Cleanup Rangers...” Chrollo rubs his arm as he looks down at the nine year old. You were dropped off at the front doorstep of the church about a couple of years ago. Ever since then you’ve been a little terror. Always picking on people, on the priest, the entire city.   

  You are a tiny bully pushing everyone around because you’re hurt. Only Sarasa could fully calm you. While everyone else just visited the church from time to time, you were a child that had to live in it because no one liked you. You never got a nanny or substitute siblings. All you had was yourself and a priest who was often at his wits end. You had to follow him around and practice his teachings and study them. You were often times bored and thus angry at everything. 

Sarasa was a God send in his eyes and yours. Chrollo was someone who tried to follow in Sarasa’s footsteps with you but lacked the ability to tell you no. He was a patient and caring boy, but one you walk over.  

  “I don’t care! This one!” You stomp your feet.  

“Don’t let her push you around like that, Chrollo.” Uvogin recently hit a growth spurt, so he towered over you two completely.   

  “No! What I say goes. This one!” You show Uvogin the tape. “Do you even know what’s on it?”  

“No. But I want to see.”  

 Chrollo hums and places the tape inside. It turns out, it was blank. You pouted as Uvogin teased you. His smile is wide and practically glows. The laugh is boisterous and bounces off the walls. Immediately, you hit him in his most sensitive spot, causing him to buckle and groan.  

You scream at the top of your lungs. “Stop laughing at me!”   

  Laughter and a smile like that remind you too much of your parent when they dropped you off in this God forsaken, dirty, and polluted place. You hate it. “It’s okay. Here, we’ll do the Clean up Rangers and you can help if you want!”  

  Chrollo took out the blank tape and put it aside. He picked you up and placed you on the desk closest to him. Uvo hisses and glares at you. You frown and stick out your tongue.  

“Listen, you can play the-”  

“No. I'm scared of that.” He knows good and damn well you don’t listen. He looks at you confused until he deduces the problem. “Stage fright?”  

Confused, you ask, “What’s that?”  

 Uvogin groans in the background with every dirty word he can muster. He curses Chrollo for being so gentle with you and a “pushover”. You quickly tell him to shut up or you’ll hurt him even worse.  

  “It’s when you get scared to talk in front of a bunch of people.” You sat in front of him and nodded. “Okay, how about you have a front row seat then! Make sure you cheer us on, alright?”  

   You're still pouting. He rubs your cheek. You want to play with the rest of them too! They never let you play normal things. He hugs you and rubs your back to console you.  

“Trust me. It'll be fun!”  

___________

You wrap your arms around his neck, gently tugging at his hair. What was a proclamation of dominance, turned into an embrace of passion. You part from him slightly. You rub his chest and ask, “Why did you lose your way? Killing all of those people?”  

“Why did you stop trusting me?”  

“You are willing to sacrifice everyone, even me.”  That day with Silva Zoldyck was proof of your accusation, of your observation.  He sucks on your neck with the intent of a mark. You give him a gasp. Slightly muffled, “Why do you doubt me? Do you honestly think I would have? You stopped trusting me.”  

He nibbles on your ear. You try to pull away before you are totally caught in him. “The Kurta-”  

 “Are responsible for Sarasa’s death and for some of the trafficking of children. Getting rid of them was necessary. Do you understand?” He continues to kiss down your neck, making sure to suck on the best places. He holds you a little closer. 

You want to believe there was a deeper reason for the extermination of the Kurta. “You barely remember it, so it can’t be true. Hell, how can I believe you when you don’t care about anyone?” He slaps your ass again. You are this close to smacking the shit out of him. You rub your bum in hopes to stop the stinging.  

 “Stop that! That’s not funny!” You pull away to see an indifferent face for a split second.  Chrollo grabs the back of your hair and pulls you in once again. His personality flips like a switch. The sweetness is gone and back is the bloodlust and anger. Honestly, it never left. It was just hidden to trick you.  He's a good actor like that.

____________

“What are you guys doing?” Phinks groans at the sight of you. Recently, he had to pull Feitan out of the trashcan again. Next to him is Feitan saying words in his native tongue that would have made a sailor blush. You blow a kiss to them both just to antagonize them. 

“Enough, she’s part of the Spider now.” Chrollo, right on his forehead, has a cross tattoo that kind of resembles a web. You don't know where he got it done at. 

“Her? What can she do?” Machi crosses her arms. You always wondered if she liked Chrollie. If she knew what the two of you did last night, she’d scream.  

You’re still a little sore and flustered. But happy and satisfied. Never have you felt so good. At first it was so sweet and dare you say, loving. Then as the night went on it became animalistic.  

Rather than sit around him, waiting to hang on to his every word, you sit next to him, chomping on some chips you found. You hear some groans and mumbles about how you are and how you’re going to get away with everything. Again.  

You stick your tongue out and say, “That’s why I ain’t sharing...bitch ass.” Phinks crosses his arms. “Damn it...”  

“Enough,” He stares down at you. “Like I said, she is a leg. And an exorcist.”   

You feel his eyes on you again. You look up to see his eyes. “The fourth leg.”  

________

“You are coming home, now.” He drags you by the back of your neck.   

“Wait, stop!”   

“Shut the ever living fuck up.” He squeezes you harder. Wasn't he just loving on you like two seconds ago? You have always wondered if he was all there. He seemed genuine when he was a kid but seeing the man he's become, you may never know. 

  “Hold on! You said the Kurta killed Sarasa. How do you know?”   

“Sheila told us.”  

  You see the rest of the legs. They look unbothered until they see you. Shock is painted on their faces so vibrantly.   

“I thought...I thought she hadn’t seen you in years?”  You have a sense of confusion and suddenly, dread. 

____

Sheila limps to a cave. You see her as you run away from the Troupe and their horrific actions. This happened right before you would spot a blond boy. “Sheila?”   

“Oh my God!” She hugs you tightly. Her leg has always been messed up since she was a child.   

  You feel like crying at the sight of her. It has been you and the Spider for so long now, you were forgetting what Sheila was like. She was the closest thing you had to Sarasa. You had your own way of loving someone, but Sarasa seemed the most natural. A big sister, a mother even. A girl who always shared stickers with you and sang you to sleep.  

  “What’s going on?” She asks as you hug return her hug. “T-they’re killing them!”  

  “Who? Who’s dying?”   

“The Kurta!” Sheila gasps. “I was just with them. Oh no, did I-”  

You sniffle and wipe your eyes. “No, no. This is on them.”  

“And the Kurta were so nice too. Harmless, peaceful.”  

____

Why did she say that if she knew they killed Sarasa? When did her and Chrollo talk? You were with Chrollo the whole time, so it couldn’t have been that day.   

  You see Sheila in the background. She is looking down at the ground, then looks up with the most wicked smile and gleam. What? You stare back with horror. Never has she had that smile. It is foreign and totally misplaced. This is Sheila, not a Troupe member. Why is she even here? She isn’t a part of it and disapproved of the group.  

Then, everything is falling together.   

  Everyone’s faces are that of monsters.   

You don’t understand. She told them of their whereabouts. She said something completely different to you. And of course, you believed her. Her and Sarasa were like sisters. They were so close it was like looking at twins. Never would you have thought she could commit such a sin. The Kurta were innocent, but...what’s going on? Everyone was desperate to capture Sarasa’s killers-oh no. You stop moving your feet, only to be dragged by Chrollo Lucilfer. He moves his hand from your neck to your arm in a tight hold, tripping you along the way.  

  “No, no, no!” You’re trying to yank free. How can he not see it? He’s the smartest person you know. How can he not see what had taken place that day? The horror, the blood and mutilation. Chrollo, you must see this!   

The Kurta and Sarasa were innocent. Kurapika...your boy.   

“Chrollo, don’t you see?” You whisper for only him to hear. He looks down at you as the rain begins to fall gracefully.   

  You can feel the tears swell.  

Does he know what happened that day? That the Troupe and Sheila are monsters. And not just because of the Kurta’s extinction. You may not have all of the puzzle pieces, but by the reactions alone, it becomes clearer.  

Out of everyone here, you struggle to read him. Always have, even when you were kids. You only catch the truth from time to time when he gives it to you. They are few in between. 

  “Have they made a fool of you?” It is rare to one up Chrollo. His power can wipe nations, his aura is powerful and vast, his commanding tone is one that cannot be ignored.   

 “Sacrifices have to be made.” He bluntly answers without a hint of remorse or second thought. His tone is final and dead. Like he has nothing else to say about it.  

_______

“I’m fucking sick of her-!” Uvogin plops down on the chair. It creaks under him. Before Uvogin can continue his ranting, another voice pipes up on the matter of a certain little girl.   

“She’d...be fun.” His voice is recognizable to anyone due to his lack of pure fluency. His hair is choppy right now because a brat got her hands on a pair of scissors. The thick, black, strands are being fixed by Pakunoda. It isn’t the best, but at least it wouldn’t look as bad as it did.   

Machi taps her foot. “She would be, huh?”   

  “It can’t be us, though. Too obvious.” Shalnark points. Collectively, the friends are beginning to plan and imagine a better Meteor City.  

“Are you guys being serious, right now? This is a child you’re talking about.” Pakunoda taps on Feitan’s shoulder, signaling that she’s done. He turns back to look at her and answers, “Deadly.”  

  Machi sighs. “You’re right, Shal. It is too obvious. And we have rehearsal with Chrollo, too.”  

  Pakunoda crosses her arms. “This isn’t sitting right. Something is going to go wrong.”  

“Remember your shaved head?” Machi asks. Pakunoda tenses up at the memory of you butchering her hair. Who keeps giving you scissors? You would be cute with that crooked smile of yours if it wasn't caused by the loss of her hair. 

  “There are a lot more bad things going on in the city. Accidents happen all the time, Paku.” Nobunaga puts his hair into a bun. Pakunoda remains silent. “We can’t let anyone else know. Only ones in this room.”  

  As said, bad things happen to kids in Meteor City all the time.  

 

Sarasa decided to go find a tape instead of you since you have a habit of picking blanks. You stomped your foot in protest. You wanted to go! You’d finally had the right directions to pick up some good tapes, anyway. Alas, Sarasa went while Chrollo soothed you.  

She skips along and sees a few men ready to welcome her in the worst way.   

“Is it her?”  Uvogin’s heart is racing. It's pounding so loud it’s in his ears. The rain is the only outside noise as Chrollo reluctantly opens the bag.  

Chrollo opens the bag and sees the face of Hell. Uvo grabs him and demands to know what is on the note since he can't read it. The wrong face is behind that letter, that much is known. The wrong directions were given to the wrong child. Everyone needs to know. To hear the mistake and pain, the truth.  

The words on that letter will never be spoken.   

_____

“The Kurta is an isolated clan with special eyes. They'd be a good cover, no?” Sheila asks. Lately, Sarasa’s murder is being brought up more and more. Chrollo is turning into the leader that Meteor City needs. And an omnipotent being. A terrifying, controlling, mastermind of a god. One that demands respect and cooperation, devotion to what he’s created: a spider. But that spider has one weakness that at a drop of a hat, can cause this god to wreak havoc on everything. 

Calm and collected he appears, but thunderous when he strikes. Loyal to what is his, but horrible in all.   

  “So, the Kurta. Agree?”  

“Aye.” They say in unison. “It’s not like anyone would miss them.”  

_____

The more you study him, the more you wonder if he knows. Was he blind or was he in on it and spun that story of him finding her? How could any of them do this?   

“Please, not you...” You whisper. Chrollo’s book is open to a page fit for an exit. A green portal opens. “No! No, no, no!”  

You struggle even more as everything, except for Chrollo’s role, becomes clear. You are not the smartest, but you are stupid. Years in that blasted city has taught you valuable lessons of reading people. Years of knowing these people have given you an advantage on top of that. Well, not everything obviously. “Chrollo, what did you do?”  

He glances down at you once more. “I am the Head, my fourth limb. But even a spider has a treasure to keep.”   

  His grey eyes are dull but with the slightest hint of possessiveness. You'd recognize it anywhere. It is the same look he gave you when you saw him today, it is the same when you first met him and he had decided to keep you under his wing, it is the same as when you finally joined the Troupe. 

  This wicked gleam has always sought you, always found you. Unfortunately, you could never read them other than that. Like you said, he only shows what he wants you to see and even then, it is blurry. God, you wish you could. If only for a moment to answer your question. Just a straight answer, the truth, about how or why Sarasa died. She was innocent and sweet. She was your friend! Everyone’s, actually.  

 So, why? What could she have possibly done to deserve such a fate? How can he not see the true culprits? What about the Kurta? Did he know and went with it anyway?  

No, that’s a bad deal. It can’t be just one question and one answer. You have too many questions. And not a single one will be answered, you bet.   

  He drags you to the portal. The Troupe starts to enter it. Phinks looks at you for a split second. For that one second his eyes look...sad? No, that’s not possible with someone like him. Like them. You are accepting that you’re in danger, but not that these beasts have a heart or a capability of remorse.  

You look around frantically. Where's Kurapika? Is he dead?   

Would he save someone like you?  

“(Y/n), who are you looking for?” Chrollo asks. He doesn’t even look at you. You want to call out for Kurapika, but that’d expose him to danger. No, if your boy hates you let that be so. At least he’ll be okay. Hopefully he has learned to make his own attire.  

  “You can’t do this, Lucilfer.”   

“But dear, I can, I have, and I will.” A few more steps to the portal. “Lucilfer, I don’t want to go.”   

You yank your arm out of his grasp. “Stop this! I don’t want to go. Do you know what they did?”  

He calmly turns around and stares at you. He expected this behavior from you. He walks to your frozen form, causing the few survivors of the village to jump. Once again, he cradles your face and places the gentlest of kisses on your lips. They're still soft, you note. Still full and masterful. 

Right as your eyes are about to close, you see that he is looking at something past you as the kiss begins to get more intense. More possessive by his hold and the movement of his lips. His grey eyes are narrowed at something that you can’t see.  

Is this a claiming? What the hell is he looking at?   Done being curious, you turn to look and see your boy Kurapika’s horrified and furious expression. You have no thoughts other than your impending fate. Your vicious crimes and relentlessly cruel past have resurfaced in the form of a wicked man. The boy you took care of and never verbally admitted you loved him as your own, is ruined even more. His heart is broken.  

 Sarasa is gone, the Spider reigns supreme, and you are stuck. There are more questions than answers at this point. Too many lies from a group that cling together in some sick and twisted loyalty. You have accepted that in the middle of that is the boy you admired and maybe even loved.

And you finally understand what Phinks meant. It wasn’t remorse, it was pity for an old and spoiled friend as they are pushed onto the spider’s web.  

[babygirl-diaz]

Possessive Much?

"Possessive much?" Eddie teased Buck when he dragged him to the jewelry store with him to buy the necklace.

"How does this make me possessive?" Buck huffed as he carefully assessed the pendant.

"Okay, then why are you buying this?" Eddie asked. "...And give me a reason that doesn't make you sound like a grade-A possessive bastard."

"I want to give my boyfriend a nice present," Buck replied as he put the pendant down and picked up another one. "And help me! I should have brought Maddie instead. You're useless."

"Maddie would have smacked you upside the head and dragged you out of here," Eddie told him. Buck saw him pick up one pendant before he exclaimed, "You're seriously gonna drop one grand on this? And that doesn't even include the chain!"

Buck shrugged. "Tommy deserves the best."

"Oh yeah? Then why not get him something like a bracelet?" Eddie asked.

"Because he can't wear a bracelet all the time," Buck replied.

"Which brings me back to my initial point. Possessive much?"

***

Buck was a little nervous. He didn't know if Tommy would like the present. And a voice in the back of his head, that suspiciously sounded like Eddie, told him he was taking it a little too far.

"You coming to bed, or are you gonna stand there the whole night?" Tommy asked in an amused voice as Buck shifted from one foot to another next to the bed.

"I have something for you," Buck told him and went to the closet to take out his present. He brought it over to Tommy and handed him the gift bag.

"It's not my birthday," Tommy said, confused. "Nor is it our anniversary. So what's the occasion?"

"Do I need an occasion to get my boyfriend presents?" Buck asked.

"I mean, if you were trying to get in my pants then I would say no, but you can get in my pants anytime you want so..."

Buck rolled his eyes and sat cross-legged on the bed, anxiously watching Tommy. "Open it!"

Tommy took out the long jewelry box from the bag, and his eyebrows furrowed. "Uh... This doesn't look like a ring box."

Buck's heart skipped a beat. "Did you want a ring?" He asked.

"Yes, Evan, I want a ring only after dating you for 7 months," Tommy replied sarcastically.

"Oh, thank god." Buck let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

Tommy opened the black jewelry box and a soft gasp escaped his lips. "Whoa, this looks... expensive."

"You don't like it?" Buck asked, pouting at his boyfriend.

"No, no, I love it," Tommy carefully took out the silver chain from the box and whispered "Wow," as he surveyed the diamond-encrusted pendant shaped in the letter "E"

"Do you want me to put it on you?" Buck offered.

"Sure," Tommy replied and handed the necklace over to Buck.

Buck scooted closer to his boyfriend and carefully put the necklace around his neck.

Tommy gently touched the "E" and smiled. "Possessive much?"

"WHY does everyone keep saying that?" Buck threw his hands up in the air.

"Let me guess..." Tommy started and smirked at Buck. "You bought this because you don't like seeing others flirt with me and you want them to see this "E" around my neck and know that I am taken?"

Buck opened and closed his mouth a few times. "That's not- it's not- I can't believe- how could you even-" He tried to speak but just couldn't find the right words.

"I'm right, aren't I?" Tommy chuckled

"Yes," Buck huffed. "I want you to have this close to your chest as a constant reminder of who you belong to." The words spilled out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

Tommy grabbed Buck by the shirt and pulled him forward, kissing him. He gave him bedroom eyes as he said, "You should have just bought me a collar instead."

Buck choked at that. "Really?"

Tommy shrugged. "This will have to do for now, I guess," he smirked and kissed Buck again.

[harrywavycurly]

Sarah so not that SC needs drama BUTTTT Thomas Rhett has a new song called Country for California and it so could’ve been written by someone from SC girlie’s hometown and I’m just imagining her hearing it and wondering if she should tell Harry? And then him not knowing how to handle it and imagine him writing a response track?!? 👀😳💓💓

Hiiii lovey!! Okay so I do love drama but I feel like my little Southern Comfort babies just need to be protected from it (mainly Harry he is enough of a mess ya know?) BUT I did do this in a fun-ish kinda way that you still see Harry’s reaction to the song and it ends fluffy so I hope you enjoy it! 💖

Find all things Southern Comfort here✨

Disclaimer: In this I don’t mention Thomas Rhett being the singer nor the songwriter, all that’s mentioned is your ex has an album out and it’s about you and I use the song mentioned above as well as the album it’s on so I’m in NO way shape or form saying your ex bf is Thomas Rhett ✨

CW: Language

A/N: Harry calls for an emergency meeting at the studio where things get a little out of hand, enjoy jealous Harry and the very first look at how you interact with the one and only Mitch Rowland✨

“I'll be sittin' right here at this bar with a drink, waitin' on ya,” Harry clenches and unclenches his jaw as the words spill from the speakers in the studio, he closes his eyes and tries to calm himself a bit as the song comes to an end.

“Oh If you find out you're too country for California” Once the music begins to fade out Harry hits the stop button as he chews on his bottom lip, he looks up at Niall who is standing next to him with his arms crossed over his chest and Harry quirks a brow when he notices his head still bopping to the beat of the song that Harry just played for him.

“S’good.” Niall says with a shrug as one of his hands fall to his hip while the other reaches over to the bin of cookies that’s sitting on the edge of the control panel that Harry’s sitting in front of. “You covering it or s’mthing?” He asks as he grabs a chocolate chip cookie from the bin and Harry has to fight the urge to smack it out of his hand. “Or did you write it? Tryin to get into the country scene are ya?” He questions once he sees the glare Harry gave him at his first question but when Harry just stands up with a huff Niall knows the answer to his questions are clearly a no.

“Her fucking ex wrote it you knob.” Niall raises an eyebrow as he takes a bite of the cookie in his hand as he watches Harry begin pacing around the studio. “He wrote a song about how he’s going to be there waiting for her when she realizes moving to California was a mistake…that I’m a fucking mistake.” Niall lets out a scoff making Harry turn and glare at him but Niall just ignores it as he finishes off his cookie before he takes a step towards his bestfriend.

“Harry this song has literally nothing to do with you mate.” Harry rolls his eyes as he runs both hands through his hair tugging at his roots and letting out a frustrated sigh. “I’m serious this song is just his way of saying that if she decides that this wasn’t a good idea he’s there for her and I mean s’kinda romantic if-”

“Romantic? You think some twat writing a song about how he’s waiting for my girlfriend at a bar with a drink and a smile is romantic? Get fucking real Niall.” Niall places a hand on Harry’s shoulder trying to get him to relax but all Harry does is shrug it off as he heads for his phone that’s on the little table in front of the couch that’s on the back wall of the small space.

“I think you’re blowing this way out of proportion mate I mean when was this even wri-”

“This year.” Harry snaps as he grabs his phone off the table and when he turns around he sees Niall rubbing his lips together and rubbing the back of his neck with his hand that’s not resting on his hip he thinks maybe now Niall understands why he’s taking this so seriously.

“Oh okay I mean still it’s just a song.” Niall explains trying his hardest to reason with Harry who is opening up his notes app on his phone as he sits back down in the chair he was sitting in when Niall walked into the studio not even half an hour ago. “People are allowed to write songs about their ex girlfriends ya know? You’ve done it yourself so you can’t really be that-”

“It’s a whole fucking album Niall not just a song it’s an album. Want to know the name of the album?” Harry doesn’t wait for Niall to respond before he messes around on his phone and brings the album up and shoves the screen in his friend’s face. “Something About a Woman…the woman he’s referring to? Yeah that would be my fucking girlfriend so I don’t want to hear how people can write about their exes because no shit of course people can write about whatever or whoever the fuck they want but now…now Niall I have to respond.” Niall’s eyes go wide as he looks from the phone screen that’s been aggressively shoved in his face to Harry who’s cheeks are pink and nostrils are flared and if Niall were to look at his free hand that’s resting in his lap he’d see it was clenched into a fist, all clear signs that Harry is pissed off.

“You-what? Respond?”

“Yes I can’t have someone writing albums about my girlfriend and not say something.”

“You’ve gone full fucking looney mate this album has nothing to do with you.”

“It has to do with her therefore it has to do with me Niall don’t be a wanker.”

“Harry be so fucking for real right now…this isn’t some rap beef okay? He wrote about his feeling for his ex that’s all…it’s not like he insulted her or anything.”

“That’s not the fucking point!” Niall rolls his eyes as Harry tosses his phone to the side letting it land on the table with a loud thud. Harry takes a few deep breaths and lets them out through his nose doing his best to calm down because Niall isn’t the one he’s upset with so he doesn’t want to take his anger out on him.

“I’m not sure I see the point Harry.” Niall tells him as he reaches for another cookie but this time Harry can’t help himself and he snatches the bin away just before Niall’s hand can reach it. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“I swear to god I will ban cookies from the studio if you don’t start actually helping me figure out what to do.” He knows this is a dramatic way to get what he wants but he also knows that if there’s one thing that can get people to do something it’s his girlfriend’s baking.

“That’s harsh man.” Both Niall and Harry turn their heads to look towards the couch and see Mitch sitting there with his hands resting in his lap as he just shakes his head at Harry.

“When the bloody hell did you get here?” Niall asks with a raised brow making Mitch just sigh as he stands up from the couch and walks over towards the two of them.

“Been here the whole time..H said something about an emergency so..I showed up.” He answers with a shrug as he places a hand on Harry’s shoulder making him look up at him. “You know that if you really do want to respond to the song or album…which is a really bad idea by the way…it has to be in the same genre as the original right?” Harry purses his lips for a moment as Mitch’s words hit him and Niall can’t help but let out a little chuckle at the idea of Harry trying to come out with a country record.

“The fuck you giggling at? I could make a country record you bad knee having twat.” Niall rolls his eyes as Harry glares at him while Mitch just gives Harry’s shoulder a pat before he reaches down and uses Harry staring at Niall as a distraction and takes a cookie from the bin he has clutched in his hands.

“You’re very British.” Mitch states before taking a bite of his cookie making Niall’s eyes go wide as he looks from the cookie to the bin in Harry’s hands. Harry looks down at the cookie bin and then back to Mitch with a raised brow because when did he even grab one? How did he not notice it?

“Post Malone just dropped a whole country album.” Harry states as if it’s a valid argument and Mitch just takes another bite of his cookie before responding.

“Yeah but he’s from Texas and he pretty much sounds the same singing as he does when he’s rapping.” Mitch explains before finishing off his cookie and brushing his hands off on his shirt all while Niall is just staring at him with a hint of jealousy in his eyes because he could really go for another cookie but no way in hell is he getting one while the bin is still in Harry’s hands.

“I’ve sang country songs before.” Harry is grasping at straws now and he knows it but he refuses to give up so Mitch just nods before turning and heading back for the couch.

“I mean yeah you’ve covered them so they sound like your style of singing and not their original traditional country sound.” Niall watches Harry’s face as Mitch speaks and it’s like watching a balloon deflate. Harry slowly starts to slump in his seat as his shoulders relax and the corners of his mouth are dipping downwards in a frown and normally Niall wouldn’t like seeing him look so upset but honestly anything is better than how angry he was a few minutes ago.

“So you’re saying…I shouldn’t do anything about it then?” Harry asks as Mitch takes his seat back on the couch while Niall slowly reaches towards the bin that Harry has loosened his grip on.

“Take it as a compliment man.” Mitch says with a shrug making Harry roll his eyes just as Niall’s hand touches a cookie. “We all know she’s song worthy and I know it sucks someone else is singing about her but just let it go.” Niall’s hand freezes when he looks up from the bin and sees Harry glaring at him.

“Put the cookie down.” Niall lets out a loud groan as he drops the cookie back into the bin. “No more cookies for you since you didn’t help me at all.” With that he grabs the lid to the cookie bin but before he can close it Niall reaches over and grabs the bin from Harry’s hands and rushes over to the coffee table in front of Mitch and stands on it holding the bin just out of Harry’s reach. “Real fucking mature Niall.” He snaps as he stands up and places both hands on his hips as he glares at his bestfriend who just shoves a whole cookie into his mouth with a shrug.

“It’s a rational response.” Mitch defends making Niall turn his head and give Mitch an approving nod since his mouth is still full. “The cookies are the main reason half of us even enjoy coming to work.” Harry takes a step to the side so he can raise an eyebrow at his friend’s admission while Niall just takes a bite of another cookie before bending down and handing one to Mitch who takes it with a smile and a nod of appreciation.

“Oh and the muffins.” Niall adds looking at Mitch who nods in agreement because he does love when he walks in and there’s a basket of muffins on the coffee table.

“And the bread-“

“I get it okay? You lot only come for the damn snacks.” Harry says while throwing his hands up in the air out of frustration, not enjoying the two of them listing off the baked goods they enjoy coming to the studio for more than the idea of actually working on something with him.

“Don’t blame em you’re a right fuckin twat in the studio sometimes Harry and you-”

“Honey I’m sorry for-“ All three men turn to look at you as you walk through the door making you immediately stop talking when you see the scene in front of you. “Niall James Horan why the hell are you standing on the coffee table holding the cookie bin?” Niall’s cheeks go pink as you place a hand on your hip but then you take a step further into the room and see Harry who is doing everything in his power to avoid looking at you.

“Harry said I couldn’t have anymore cookies because I didn’t help him write a song.” Niall blabs as he remains standing on the table pointing at your boyfriend who is looking down at his feet. “Said he was gonna ban them from the studio.” He adds just to really make sure you understand the severity of the situation because in Niall’s mind this is a serious issue and this isn’t even his studio but he’s here enough that if there’s no more cookies he really just doesn’t see himself ever wanting to come back.

“Things have gotten a little out of hand.” You turn your attention away from the Irishman on the table and smile when you see Mitch sitting on the couch with his hands folded together in his lap.

“So I’ve gathered.” Mitch just gives you a small smile as you reach down and give his knee a gentle pat. “You mind giving us the room precious?” You ask and Mitch doesn’t hesitate to just stand up and head for the door giving you a little pat on your shoulder on his way past you. Niall follows him, quickly stepping off the table and heading for the door. “You leave that cookie bin on the table Niall James.” You hear a low sounding whine coming from behind you making you just roll your eyes at Niall’s dramatics.

“But I-”

“But nothin Niall you know you’ll eat yourself sick if I let you take the whole bin with you now be a good little puddin pop and close the door behind you please.” You don’t even look at him as you talk, too concerned with the way Harry is standing there with his arms crossed over his chest and looking down at his feet but you know Niall did what you asked when you hear the soft click of the door closing.

“I wasn’t really going to ban cookies from the studio.” Harry mumbles as you take a few steps towards him. “I know you enjoy baking them for everyone.” You smile at his words because of course he’d never ban your cookies or baked goods from the studio because Harry knows how happy baking them makes you.

“Sugar is this about the song?” Harry’s head snaps up and his eyes go wide as you reach out so you can try to grab his hands.

“You know about the song?” You give him a look and he just lets out a sigh and uncrosses his arms allowing you to grab his hands. “Of course you know about the song.” He half mumbles to himself as he feels you pull his arm around your waist, placing your hands over his so he keeps them there.

“It’s just a song honey.” Harry wants to believe you, he wants to just be able to brush it off as just some song but he can’t and he hates how it’s making him feel. “Harry.” His name sounding sweet and soft as it slips out of your mouth is what makes him finally give in, you smile when you feel him pull you into his chest making your cheek press against the soft material of his hoodie as your arms snake around his middle giving him a nice squeeze while his stay locked around your waist.

“I know you’re upset and that’s fine sugar because you’re allowed to be upset about this but please know it doesn’t meant anything to me okay?” You feel Harry place his lips on the top of your head as you begin rubbing his back trying to soothe him.

“I just hate knowing someone else is writing songs about you.” You can’t help but chuckle making Harry pull away from you a bit so he can look down at you and you just roll your eyes playfully when he raises an eyebrow at you.

“Oh come on honey you have a whole album written about you and you don’t see me all huffin and puffin.” You watch Harry’s face as he tries to think of an album that could possibly be written about him and you just laugh and go back to resting your head on his chest. “It’s a great album I’ll give you that much so maybe that’s why I don’t mind but also it’s Taylor Swift so what exactly am I supposed to do? Bake her an angry cake?” You feel Harry’s arms go stiff as it finally clicks which album you’re referring to so you just tilt your head so your chin is resting on his chest and you’re looking up at him. “You think she’d like a cake? Or maybe some cookies?” You ask in an attempt to lighten the mood and when Harry just looks down at you with a playful glare you know it’s worked.

“If you send her cookies I get to send him a strongly worded letter.” You bite back a laugh at his suggestion as you get up on your tiptoes making a small smile appear on Harry’s face when he leans down to meet your lips in a sweet little kiss. “Or maybe I’ll just let it go?” He asks as you try to pull away but he’s quick to bring one of his hands up to cup the side of your face keeping you from going too far even when you drop from being on your tiptoes. “Yeah I’ll just let it go.” He answers before he presses his lips against yours for another kiss.

“Smart thinkin sugar plum” Your voice is reassuring and Harry smiles as you turn your face and place a kiss to the palm of his hand that was cupping your cheek. “Have you written any songs about me?” You ask as Harry places a kiss to your forehead before standing up straight, he gives you a little smile as his thumb begins gently brushing against your cheek.

“Just a few hundred.” You want to roll your eyes and shove at his chest and tell him to be serious but something tells you he’s not joking or at least not totally. “But the fun is watching you try to figure out which ones they are.” He teases and you just stare at him for a moment and it’s as if all of a sudden it dawns on you that he actually has written songs about you and you can’t help but feel your eyes begin to get watery and your bottom lip starts to tremble.

“Oh my god.” Normally Harry would be panicked if he saw you on the verge of tears and heard your voice crack but he knows what’s happening and he understand it’s a lot to take in, the idea of someone caring enough about you to write a song about you is a lot. “You really like me huh?” Your voice is watery but it just makes Harry smile and chuckle a little as he brings his other hand up to hold the other side of your face.

“I do yeah.” He answers with zero hesitation as he leans down and kisses the tip of your nose. “I’m a bit obsessed with you baby.” He adds with a smile as you reach up and place your hands over his that are on your face just as he leans a bit further down and gives your lips a sweet kiss that leaves you with a grin when he pulls away.

[tonberry-yoda]

Hopeful - Ramattra

Pairing - Ramattra x reader

Warnings - too much fluff frrrr

Word Count - 3,937

Notes - this fic was inspired by this post by @lady-shimada!! i am super thankful to them for allowing me to write this wonderful idea because I absolutely love how this turned out!! this is one of my longest fics yet and I cannot express how fun this was to write!! thank you again @lady-shimada and I really hope you enjoy it!!! Have a great rest of your day/night everyone and please stay hydrated!!! <3333

You wiped the sweat off of your forehead and smiled at your work. "Does that feel better?" You asked the omnic who's arm you had just finished fixing up.

She rolled her arm and practically beamed at you, if she could of course. "Thank you! Y-You don't know how much this means to me!!" She pulled you into an embrace and you hugged her back with no hesitation.

"Of course. I'm just happy to help all that I can." Nothing felt better than seeing an omnic happy. As a human, it was rare to get along with omnics, especially after the war, but you were just glad that there was some peace in the world that you could take part in. Especially thanks to your teacher, Zenyatta, who was an omnic himself. You just wanted a better world. One in which omnics were seen as more than just robots, but another half of humans.

"How much will that be?" The omnic pulled her wallet out and started fishing out cash.

"No, please, it's on me. I don't need any money."

"Please let me pay, it's the least I could do." She started shoving money at you, but you kept declining.

"Ma'am, I'm serious. Seeing you in tip top shape is more than enough payment for me."

"You're a blessing, you know that?!" The omnic threw her arms around you once more before thanking you what seemed like a thousand times before leaving.

Genji just smiled at you from across the room. "You are very talented, y/n."

"Oh, stop it, Genij." You cleaned off a couple of tools and gave Genji a playful punch on the arm.

"It's true! I don't know what the omnics would do without someone like you. I don't know what I would do without you." He pointed to his robotic body, making you giggle a bit.

"It's seriously the least I could do. They need help, right? That's what I'm here for. To provide that help." You wiped some oil off of your face and slipped off your dirty apron. "Now I'm off to go get some food because I am exhausted."

---

"Brother, I just want to know why you're not fighting for us! For the omnics! The ones who raised you!" Ramattra exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. He was on a walk with Zenyatta, as it had been years since they had last seen each other.

The two decided to get back in contact after a lot of thinking Zenyatta had done on his part. Moral of the story is: he missed Ramattra. They had an unbreakable bond that was taken away from them over a few disagreements. It's not that Zen wanted Ramattra back to change his mind. He just wanted to see him again. Without that brother-like omnic by his side, Zen was becoming a bit lonely.

"Don't you care about your people, brother?! Don't you care that they are dying?!"

"Of course I do, Ramattra," Zenyatta sat next to a nearby lake, looking up at the stars. "But doesn't everyone die?" His tone was soft and Ramattra was already getting frustrated.

"Yes! Everyone dies! But not like this, brother... not like this." He sat next to Zen, looking to the stars as well. "I just want peace for our people. I want to avenge Mondatta. I don't want it to happen all over again... especially to you." Ramattra sighed, feeling a little more at ease, waiting for Zenyatta to say something. Praying that he would agree with him.

"I understand how you must feel, brother," Zen's tone was still soft, not breaking once. "But we each have our own ways of thinking. I don't think anyone should die for the sake of others. I think in the end, we should all be equal."

"But how are we supposed to be equal when-"

Ramattra's rough tone was quickly interrupted by Zenyatta skipping a stone over the lake they were next to. "Listen, Ramattra. I invited you here because I missed you. That's all. We can have talks about war and death later, but for now," Zenyatta got up from his spot, continuing the walk. "I want to know how you've been."

---

"What did you get?" Genji walked up to you, taking a fry from your meal; the omnic he was talking to that was in recovery went back into rest mode. There were a lot of omnics that had to heal up, especially some who have seen some bad places. Your shop wasn't the cleanest, but at least you had a space for them to stay for a while.

"Well it looks like you already figured it out Mr. I Like To Steal Fries." You giggled, placing your food on a nearby table with tools strewn across it.

"Sorry, sorry," Genji put his hands in the air in joking defense. "Look, I'm just hungry too, y/n. You can't blame me."

"I thought you would be," you sighed, pulling out another bag. "So I got you some food too."

"That omnic was right... you are a blessing."

"Shut up Genji and just take the food. And you owe me a fry now!" You laughed, handing him his food.

"Do you have any more patients today?" Genji took off his mask to reveal his scar covered face. If only you could do something about that.

"I think I have one more... but it's a Junkertown patient."

"Are you serious?" Genji's mouth was full of food, shock painted on his face.

"Yeah," you said solemnly. "I hate getting those patients. Not because they're hard to fix, but because I feel so bad. The Junker Queen really fucks them up, I tell you what."

"I bet. I'm sorry." Genji looked at a patient who had been bed ridden for weeks. Another one from Junkertown, still trying to regain consciousness.

"Genji, I'm the last person you should be apologizing to." You looked down at your food, getting prepared for the patient you were going to have to help soon. You wished it didn't have to be this way between humans and omnics, but for now, this was the only thing you could do to help.

---

"Wait," Ramattra pinched the bridge of what would be his nose. "So you're telling me that you're teaching... a... human?"

"Two actually." Zenyatta said casually, watching an airplane fly by.

"Two?! Have you gone mad?!"

"Perhaps a little mad." Zen giggled to himself.

"You have got to be playing some sort of sick joke on me. I can't believe you would do something like that."

"Not all humans are bad. You do know that, right?" Zen gave Ramattra a playful look, which was returned with glaring eyes.

"Yes they are. Why else would we still be going through this pain and suffering?"

"Follow me. I want to show you something."

Ramattra sighed, but didn't argue with Zen. "Fine."

"Might I ask when the last time you spoke to a human was?"

Ramattra went silent, trying to think. "I don't really... speak to them. They made us suffer, so I make them suffer."

Zen hummed in response. "I see."

For the rest of the walk, the two omnics were silent. They didn't feel like more needed to be said, so they just listened to the nighttime birds sing and the slight breeze blow onto the nearby lake.

Ramattra loved when the world was peaceful. It was rare for him. Not often did he get to just enjoy the sounds of the world, it didn't feel like he was allowed to yet. He still had things he needed to do for his people. It was like a breath of fresh air was unheard of for Ramattra.

In that regard, he was very thankful for Zenyatta reaching out again. It was like how he used to live. And even if it wouldn't be permanent, it was nice.

"Right this way, brother." Zenyatta pointed down a dark alleyway, the only light coming from a dim lamp next to a sign that said in dark colors: "Omnic Repair". Zen opened the door to a dimly lit workshop with tired omnics lying in hospital-like beds.

Ramattra looked around the workshop, his gaze finding Genji who was sitting with an omnic that was in better condition with the rest, joking and chatting with him.

"Brother, what is thi-"

Ramattra was quickly interrupted by Zen putting his finger over what would be his mouth and pointing to you, who was hard at work fixing the omnic from Junkertown.

Ramattra turned to you and felt like everything around him had stopped. Like nothing existed in the world but you.

"Not all humans wish to see us suffer, Ramattra," Zen whispered with a smile, seeing how gentle you were with your patient.

"H-How?" Ramattra's tone was almost as soft as Zenyatta's.

"What do you mean, 'how?', brother? This is what they love to do. They want nothing more than to see an omnic live out its life."

"B-But... they're human."

"Very observant brother," Zenyatta giggled, putting his hand on Ramattra's lower back. "Why don't you say hello?" He pushed him to you, but Ramattra quickly stepped away.

"Zenyatta, I can't. They're doing something important right now." His eyes stayed glued to you, watching as your eyes didn't once leave your patient. You were so focused on fixing them, on helping them not be in pain, it was admirable.

You tilted your head, fixing a screw and stood up, stretching. "I'll be back." You said to your patient, who was already more than halfway completed. "You're a trooper."

The barely conscious omnic seemed to smile at you, giving you a limp high five and saying a soft "thank you."

You nodded and turned around, almost bumping into a large... omnic?!

You apologized and took a step back to find Ramattra standing in front of you. He was taller than any other omnic you have ever seen and a hell of a lot scarier too. But he also looked so... cool. Definitely unlike any other omnic you've met.

"y/n!" Zenyatta stepped out from behind Ramattra as you took off a face mask you had on. "You're doing excellent work in here!"

You smiled and gave Zenyatta a short hug. "Thank you, master. It's been a long day, but we're almost done."

"I'd like you to meet someone." Zenyatta pushed Ramattra in front of him, revealing to you the tall omnic. He had to be way over 6ft, he was gigantic.

"Hi!" You smiled, sticking your hand out to him.

"Hello there." Ramattra just stared at your hand and you let it limply fall to your side. You gave Zenyatta a confused look.

"This is Ramattra," Zenyatta introduced him because he knew that Ramattra wouldn't do it himself. "Ramattra, this is y/n."

"Does he need repair? Because he looks just fine to me. I mean I could check a couple of his bolts and wires, but like I said, he looks in tip top condition." You took a fry from the table in the corner of the room and popped it in your mouth.

"I need no repair, human." Ramattra's tone was rough, but it didn't scare you. It was just alarming to hear someone speak to you like that.

"Alright then... What can I help you with?"

Zenyatta just laughed and shook his head. "y/n, Ramattra here is like a brother to me. We've taught each other a lot, but got separated due to differences. I just wanted to show him the work you conduct in here, perhaps show him another side."

"Nothing will change my mind about humans." Ramattra turned around and crossed his arms, looking around the small workshop.

"That's not what I said, brother. I just wanted to show you something new, that's all."

Ramattra just ignored Zenyatta, walking over to an omnic who had to get all of his limbs replaced and was clearly exhausted, but still awake.

"Why are you here, brother?" Ramattra grabbed the omnic's hand, looking at his tired figure. "Why not get repaired by one of our own kind?"

The omnic just looked at Ramattra and stretched, his eyes getting brighter. "y/n is great. They make sure we're cared for and in our greatest condition."

"Yes, but they are human."

"I've met a lot of good humans in my day. And they are definitely one of them. If not for them, I wouldn't be here, talking to you."

"I see... Well, I will let you rest now. Godspeed, brother." Ramattra left the omnic to rest and saw that you went right back to work on your patient from when he walked in.

He walked over to you and sat down, watching you as you worked, not once thinking about anything else but saving this omnic.

"How long have you been doing this job?" You jumped slightly, shocked to hear Ramattra's booming voice.

You giggled, a little embarrassed about getting frightened. "I've always been interested in repairing, but it wasn't until I met Zenyatta that I realized that I can use those abilities on omnics too. Plus, I know that you all have been through a lot and I just want to start the movement to help. It's not much, but it's what I can do."

If Ramattra had a heart, it would be pounding. Perhaps he felt the simulation of it or at least his brain was telling him that his heart would be pounding. Whatever it was... he didn't like it. "W-Well, human's have been the reason for our destroyed life. The reason we are so hurt and suffer this much. It is because of you that you are fixing us. You're not helping with anything."

You didn't know how to respond. You had never been through what he has, nor do you even know how he would feel. So you just kept working on your patient. "I'm sorry." You ended up saying. "I know a simple apology isn't enough, but I am really trying to do better as a human. Omnics deserve much more than they are currently given and how they are treated, so, I'm sorry Ramattra." You looked up at him, making eye contact. "Truly."

For the first time, Ramattra couldn't say a single word. He had no rebuttal, nothing rude to say, no singular comment, nothing. He had nothing to say to you.

So instead of words, he opted for a head nod and continued watching you work. You were so precise, so caring, making sure not to hit any vital wires that would hurt the omnic in front of you. You knew what you were doing, and you were clearly skilled.

Shortly after, you took off your mask and smiled at your patient. After a couple of hours, this poor omnic that was torn apart by the citizens of Junkertown was finally as patched up as you could get them. Definitely able to live a mostly normal life and that was all you wanted for them.

The omnics eyes lit up. They couldn't walk or move too much due to their current condition, but they could definitely feel the difference. If they could smile, they would, but you could certainly tell how happy they were. "Th-Thank you." Their voice was weak, but sounded way happier than before. "You don't know how much this means to me."

"Of course," you smiled, grabbing their hand. "I'm just glad you're all better now. Like I said earlier, you're a trooper. Now get some rest, alright?"

They nodded lightly and pulled their blanket up their body, drifting off into sleep.

Ramattra was amazed. You were so... gentle with the omnics. You really did seem to love your job.

You slipped off your mask and your apron, receiving a high five and a "good job" from Genji.

"Thanks Genji. Another day done." You stretched, a couple of bones in your body popping.

"So," Ramattra scoffed, still trying to keep his intimidating front. "How much do you get paid for this?"

"I don't," you admitted, hanging up your apron and slipping on some slippers, yawning. "Why would they have to pay to continue living? That's just not fair."

God, Ramattra hated the way you were making him feel. Humans weren't supposed to be this... nice. They were evil. All of them. Right?

"Oh shoot!" You ran up to Ramattra, gently brushing your fingers over his arm. "There's a crack."

"It's nothing." Ramattra quickly pulled away from you.

"I saw a missing screw in there, it's not nothing. Can I please look at it?" You reached out your hand to him again and he pulled away again, walking away from you.

"No. I won't let a human touch me! I-"

Ramattra was interrupted by Zenyatta putting his hand on Ramattra's shoulder. "Just let them try. I promise they won't hurt you."

Ramattra sighed, but sat down anyway. He wasn't super stoked about having to be fixed by a human, but that crack and missing screw have been messing with his ability to use his arm properly. "Fine. But if you try anything, human, know that there will be prices to pay."

You could tell that Ramattra was stiff. You realized something though, perhaps this motion he made around humans wasn't because he was trying to defend himself or wanting you to fear him... it was because he was... scared. At least it seemed that way to you. He has only seen humans as something to harm him and the people he loves. Maybe being able to see a human as an ally was frightening to him.

"You don't have to be so tense," you giggled, pulling out a bag of assorted tools. "Loosen up a bit and this might be easier for both of us."

"It's a little difficult to do that... I don't want to drop my guard."

You hummed in response, picking out the tools you needed. "I understand... It must be weird to see humans as a nice thing, huh?"

Ramattra went silent for a moment, looking at a dim light bulb above him as you went to work. "I suppose. Your race has done nothing but hurt mine."

"I wish it didn't have to be this way," your tone was gentle as you concentrated on your work.

"Me too." For the first time, Ramattra's tone dropped. He wasn't trying to intimidate you anymore. It sounded almost... friendly.

"I'm going to bed, y/n." Genji took a step away from his desk that was cooped up in the corner of the workshop and stretched. "Great job today."

"Thank you Genji," you smiled. "Get a good night's rest, alright? It's already pretty late."

"I will. Don't work yourself to the bone, got it?"

"I won't. I'll be heading to bed myself after I fix up our new friend here." You chuckled as Genji went off to his room.

"After I fix up our new friend here."

Was Ramattra really stooping so low to find a human... friend? No. There was no way.

"All done!" You put any tools away and looked over Ramattra's metal body to see if there was anything else you needed to do.

Ramattra moved his arm and was shocked. It was the best his arm has felt in years.

"Thank you." Ramattra bowed at you. "I... appreciate your efforts."

"Anytime," you cleaned up and smiled at Ramattra, your hands moving to your hips. "Just be sure to come back again if there's anything wrong, alright?"

Ramattra just nodded and followed Zenyatta to the door of the workshop.

"Oh, y/n?"

You were headed up to your room to finally get some rest after such a long day, but were stopped by Ramattra's voice.

"Yes?" You stuck your head out from the top of the stairs.

"Promise to get a good night's rest?"

You thought for a moment as a smirk painted your face. "Yes. Promise to be back?"

Ramattra thought for a moment. "...Yes."

---

Ramattra did, in fact, come back. A lot actually. More than you expected him to, at least.

At first, it was for small upgrades he was thinking about related to his body and his weapon. And then it was to just see what you were working on and to visit other omnics. And finally, it was just to see you.

It was odd building a relationship with someone who hated your kind. Someone who was afraid that you would turn your back on him at any second. But you noticed every day that he would warm up to you more and more. Even if it was just little things like scooting a little closer to you or telling you about his day.

There started to be days where you would rarely not see his face.

---

"Good morning, y/n." You heard that familiar bell of your workshop door opening and Ramattra ducking his head to get through.

"Good morning, Ramattra." You smiled, continuing to sweep the floor.

"Any big plans for the day?"

"Nope! Today's my day off so I'm going to try to organize this hellhole."

Ramattra chuckled at the sight of your messy workshop. It wasn't unsanitary by any means, just cluttered.

"Sounds good." Ramattra nodded, sitting on a nearby stool, looking giant in it.

"Do you need any upgrades or anything fixed, Ramattra?"

"No, not that I can think of."

"Then do you have any big plans for the day?"

"No. I trained with Zenyatta this morning, but that's the only plan I made for today."

The two of you did what you needed to do in silence. You cleaned up all the clutter, trying to organize it to your best ability, and Ramattra would be on standby if you needed him to reach anything.

"Can I be honest with you, y/n?" If Ramattra could blush, he knew he absolutely would've been.

"Sure, Ramattra. Go ahead." You finally got a chance to take a breather, so you sat across from him.

He cleared his throat and kept his composure. He couldn't lose that stoic posture, couldn't let his guard down. "You are the most tolerable human I have ever met."

You laughed out loud. "Thank you?"

"I mean it. You're kind, caring, and helpful. I hate to admit it, but I think I'm actually starting to like you." He laughed, not believing he was actually saying any of this to you.

"That's actually very sweet, Ramattra. I've liked you from the beginning, so nothing has really changed over in my department." You smiled, laying your hand on the table.

"y/n? I just wanted to let you know, I hate the way you make me feel."

"Really?" You laughed. "Why's that?"

"I don't particularly enjoy conversing with humans, let alone take pleasure in being around them."

"Is it scary?" You asked, tilting your head a bit.

"To be honest with you, it's terrifying. I feel like I'm losing that hard edge. Growing softer. I'm not keen on that." He chuckled almost nervously and you slid your hand over to his.

"Well, I like guys with a soft side." You smiled and immediately made whatever heart Ramattra did have melt. How dare you!

"Don't you dare." Ramattra chuckled, giving you a playful smack on the hand.

"I'm glad I met you, Ramattra."

"I feel the same... I'm thankful that there are humans out in the world like you. It's almost making me..."

"Hopeful?"

"Precisely."

Ramattra walked up to you and placed his forehead on yours. You planted a small kiss on his cheek and he hugged you.

Yeah. You were making him feel hopeful.

~~~~~

overwatch masterlist --- pinned post

@tonberry-yoda

TAG LIST:

(these were all people i saw that were interested in this specific writing and ramattra x reader in general <3) @deepparadisesheep @tarotbonez @xoneaboveallx @snufkuluf @jinne-lee @igzsatelier

<333

[prowlerverse]

smiling critters x reader (valentines edition !)

disc ; lowercase intended .

DOGDAY

before you and dogday got together, he would usually just hang out with his friends for valentine's day since well, he had no lover!

but now that your with him, he spends all his time with you!

since of course, playcare doesn't have many places to go, he tries to find little gifts for you!

he also does little coloring dates with you.

"i appreciate you a whole bunch, did you know that?" dogday would tell you.

CATNAP

catnap didn't exactly celebrate anything before you came along.

he'd usually just watch from afar to make sure his friends were safe.

but, you changed that.

the first time you both met, valentines was right around the corner, so you decided to make a paper bouquet.

at first, he ignored your calls when you tried to get his attention but he somewhat gave in.

instead of running away, he stood staring at you.

"for you," you offered. he stared at the paper in your hand. "for me?" he questioned. you nodded and smiled. he hesitantly took it and hit his face in it, shutting his eyes. "thank you."

now, it's mostly catnap who puts in a effort to make you gifts. he loves seeing your reactions and smiles. it warms his heart.

BOBBY BEARHUG

bobby has always been a loving and caring person,especially on valentines day.

so when you both got together, valentines was the best!

you'd cuddle, talk, draw for hours, kisses here and there, a bunch of love.

sometimes, you swore her middle name was love,or, maybe it was.

bobby approached you with a heart shaped box along with a wide smile on her face.

when she got close to you, she pushed it out to you. "here! i got this for you," bobby smiled. "hmm? what is it Bobby — oh!" you opened the box to see hand written notes along with your favorite snacks. she smiled when your mouth went agape. "do you like it?" you stammered over your words for a bit.

"i love it, bobby! thank you!" you hugged her tightly and pecked her cheek, which she returned.

PICKY PIGGY

picky piggy of course, is piggy but really loves to eat, and she loves to see you eat, too!

so instead of paper crafts or anything else, she cooks things for you, fruits, veggies, anything she can shape into a heart!

"lasssst one!" picky happily said as she placed a platter full of heart shaped fruit in-front of you. you smiled, then looked at her. "picky, you know you didn't have to make it all alone, you could've let me help!" picky shushed you and closed her eyes, then made eye contact with you. "No need! This is a special day, and I wanna spoil you, dig in!"

HOPPY HOPSCOTCH

hoppy is usually in a rush for most things, so when valentine's day comes around, she gets worried she won't make things on time, even though she always does, it's just a stress.

"hoppy, seriously, you don't have to rush," your reassured her. "take your time, okay?"

hoppy shook her head in a 'no'. "but — but what if I don't make it on — on time?" you placed your paws on hers. "you will. you always do, don't you?" you kiss her on the cheek and she nods.

"thanks."

KICKIN CHICKEN

Kickin chicken sometimes lets his cool ego overrun him, so when that does happen, you lightly scold him.

"but (nameeee).."

"no buts!" you said, tugging on his charm. "don't tire yourself out. I love the gifts but I care for you more, okay?" you pulled him down for a hug.

"okay.. I'll try not to overdo it next time." kickin' mumbled, pressing kisses onto your shoulder.

BUBBA BUBBAPHANT

bubba is usually studying mathematics and more 'boring' stuff, that's how you view it.

other than him studying, he pushes it aside to spend time with you.

you guys don't do anything really special, his love language is quality time. he loves just being around you and spending time with you.

or, he watches after you while you play with the kids.

he loves seeing you in his sight. he loves you.

CRAFTY-CORN

crafty loves anything, well, crafty! that's exactly why every holiday, especially valentines, she makes a bag of things for you.

it scales to clothes, shoes, drawings, anything she can think of.

"I love it, crafty." you gasped in awe at the shirt you were holding. it had a heart transitioning between red and pink.

"you do? thank god!" crafty sighed. "I had to ask the workers for more red because we ran out! but I'm glad you like it!"

you smiled and her and she smiled back, giving you a gentle kiss.

end: this was rotting in my drafts soooo ^^

[snoople-boop]

Fandom Oneshots: Your Natural Hair Is Beautiful (SMG34)

SMG4 and SMG3 are in Three's cafe talking and it seems like everything is normal until Four's eyes drift over to Three's's hair. He pauses for a moment before asking "are you dyeing your hair again?" Three sighs "yeah, it keeps fading which is annoying" Three snickered "when I was younger I used vegetable dye". Four laughed as he took a sip of his coffee, "You used what? Oh, you know there's better dyes for hair now, right?" "What? I was 12!" Three said as Four laughed

"I bet you looked like one of those MySpace profile pictures everyone used back then" Four joked and Three glared, "ugh, thanks for reminding me of my awkward phase, thanks for that". "Haha, sorry, I just had to point that out" "What? As if you looked better?" Three said in a cocky tone as Four smiled and rolled his eyes, "Oh shut up"

Three chuckled, "Oh don't act like you weren't a huge loser when you were younger.", he laughed, "I may not have been the most popular guy in school, but at least I didn't look like an edgy emo kid" SMG3 laughed. "At least I looked like more than the guy who was the definition of 'loser". The two laughed, before their joking fight started to get a bit heated, Four rolled his eyes, "Come on, if you really think you're that much better than me, then why have I been the more successful one?" Then Three scoffed, "Yeah, like you're all high and mighty now, Mr "I have a successful YouTube channel"

"You have the worst fanbase" Three then the Four glared at him "wasn't there a fan of you that kept self shipping themselves with you?" There was one thing they can agree on that's horrible

The fandom

"So..." Four tried to change the subject "are you gonna dye your hair... For the millionth time" Three sighed, "Ugh, I guess I will, the color keeps fading every time" Four rolls his eyes, "You know you don't have to dye it every time it fades, right?" He scoffed, "Like anyone would ever want to see my boring, dirty natural color, it looks gross" he shook his head, "I really wish you'd stop dyeing your hair" "make me" Three then stuck his tongue out, SMG4 laughed, "You know you really suck at being mean, do you know that?"

SMG3 gave him the middle finger, "Well screw you too then, ass" "Oh no, you gave me the finger, my day is ruined" Four said sarcastically

Both of them laughed, "Seriously, you're so bad at being mean" then it was quiet "sooo... Is there a reason you want to dye your hair... Again" Four said as Three shrugged "Honestly, I just don't like the way my hair looks without the color, and if I don't dye it again, it's gonna fade more, and it's gonna look like ass"

"You know... You look pretty with your natural hair color" Four said then Three looked at him. Three rolled his eyes, "Ugh, do not even try the whole 'you look pretty with your natural hair color' thing on me, cause you know I'm not buying it"

SMG4 smiled "no you really do, dark brown suits you!" He scoffed, "Oh yeah, you're totally not just trying to butter me up so I don't dye my hair! Plus, I don't look good with natural color hair, and I don't care if you like it, I look better with the black color" Four rolled his eyes, "Oh wow, someone is in denial and is trying to lie to themselves, come on, just admit you look better with your natural color"

Three went quite "do you actually like my natural hair color?" SMG4 sighs, "Do you really believe that I would compliment you in any shape or form if I wasn't being serious, plus... Your natural hair color looks beautiful" Three stares at Four for a long moment, "Do you... Really mean it?"

Four kissed him on the lips "yes, of course I do" Three stares at him shocked, before he kissed him back "you were being serious?" Four nodded and smiled, Three started to smile, wrapping his arms around Four, pulling him closer to him "oh my god, I'm sorry I didn't believe you, it's just... I never realized that anyone would actually like my natural color hair" Three pulled him closer, and kissed him again, before breaking apart and looking at him "I just thought that people preferred me with a black hair color or something"

"So.. does this mean you won't dye your hair anymore?" Four said as Three sighs and shakes his head "I guess not, I guess I've just always been so used to people telling me that I look better with the black hair that I guess I forgot about the fact that I look better with my natural color" they both kissed then saw Mario to their left

"Mario wants to know when is the wedding :D"

[cbrownjc]

Spoiler talk and thought for 2x08 (Mostly regarding Devil's Minion, but a few other things as well):

I didn't like that ending with Daniel. At all. The point of fact is when I first saw that whole thing? I hated it. Viscerally.

And right now, the only thing that has calmed that feeling is knowing that we are getting a Season 3. And being willing to see what they do with this.

Because otherwise? This ending feels like the type of ending you'd get with a modern film remake of the 1994 movie. You know, with Lestat popping up in Daniel's car, indicating he was going to turn him? Which basically ignores that Devil's Minion is a thing. That happened.

This ending, in a lot of ways, feels like that one to me. And hey, back in 1994, before I read the books and knew Devil's Minion was a thing, that felt like a very satisfying ending.

But because I have read the books and do know about it? No. No, it wasn't.

This ending leaves way too much ambiguity. Purposefully, I can see that. But still. And I'm sorry, I'm just kind of not in the mood for that right now. Don't get me wrong, I get it. I get why they did it. But I'm just not in the mood for it. Especially when it comes to Devil's Minion.

But that is the peril of shipping the secondary couple in a story. They are the B (even C) plot in the overall scheme of things. This ending was about and for Louis. Bringing his character full circle to a place of healing and working on closure. And in that respect, the episode succeeded magnificently. I have zero issues or complaints.

But as far as my Devil's Minion-loving self goes? Again, the only thing that saves this for me as an ending wrt Daniel and Armand is knowing there is a Season 3 coming. Because if this had been all we got . . .

As a Devil's Minion fan since 1995, I did not wait all these years for this.

But, let me lay a few other things out about all of this to explain myself:

First yes, the setup for the chase having happened in the 70s is still there. That hasn't changed, even with this ending.

Because no, they are NOT going to do the Devil's Minion chase with Daniel already a vampire. Especially if Armand really did turn him. That makes no damn sense whatsoever. The whole point of the chase was that it turned into an elaborate courting ritual that gave time for Armand and Daniel to get to know each other. Armand chasing his own fledgling? After supposedly turning him out of spite?

No. Sorry. Not happening. That is not Devil's Minion in any way, shape, or form. The point was for Armand to fall in love with a human and Daniel to fall in love with a monster. For them both to see each other fully as they are in those ways, and fall for each other anyway. Not for Armand -- who loathes the very idea of turning someone -- to do it out of spite and then just abandon him -- or stalk him after he turn him and falls in love with him after that. Or for Daniel to in any way see Armand as having turned him out of spite.

And speaking of that:

Armand turning Daniel out of spite? Hell fucking no. That is, frankly, the opposite of how their relationship, and the turning of Daniel, go.

Armand abandoning Daniel after turning him? Hell fucking no. Armand only left Daniel after he was turned because Daniel wanted him gone. Daniel was the one who initiated the breakup (when you read Rice's Tulane notes about it).

And Daniel, even a Daniel who might be mad at Armand for turning, being that blasé about it all? Hell fucking no. Frankly, Daniel's whole attitude as a vampire was rubbing me the wrong freakin' way because it just didn't feel like him. Not to me.

Seriously. With the way this went down on its surface if you don't know the books, it would be very easy to think that Armand was flat-out lying when he said he'd never made another vampire before after you watch that reveal -- and hear that dialog -- about Daniel's turning. It was all so crass and cavalierly presented.

Which is why this whole thing reads as either a.) a DAMN BIG misunderstanding wrt what happened between Armand and Daniel, or b.) an excellent adaptation of the IWTV book but a terrible adaptation of Devil's Minion, or c.) that there is a whole truckload of context missing when it comes to that final scene.

And point-c goes into, for me at least, what the major thing that had me going "WTF is this?" about it all:

How is it that this show, which showed in this very episode mind you, (noting something from all the way back in Season 1 about Lestat not being able to talk to Louis via his mind in episode 1x02), that it keeps track of even the little details about things but . . . somehow gets Daniel's vampire eye color wrong?

Because yes, they did get it wrong. I rewatched the scene of the reveal of Daniel's eyes (specifically) three times now. And looked very carefully at them, Daniel's eyes start out as their normal human blue but then MORPH into a kind of yellowish-orange to denote that he's a vampire now. (And btw, since when can vampire's eyes do that!? Armand, at 500 years old, was wearing full-ass contact lenses to hide his vampire eyes. But Daniel, who's got to be at most 2 years old in vampire years, can morph/change his eye color at will? 😑)

Anyway. Is this show trying to tell me that they can change Louis' eyes to green when he becomes a vampire to homage to his book counterpart, but they don't know that Daniel's eyes are supposed to be violet? Something that is said directly about him right at the top of the Devil's Minion chapter? And is an eye color that Armand remarks about right before The Chase starts about how unusual it is?

No way. No way this show gets that detail wrong.

I said this in reply to someone a few weeks ago in a Direct Message after I made my predictions about Daniel getting turned, and I'm going to say it here: If Daniel's eye color isn't purple/violet, then the person turned is not Daniel. A body swap has already happened if that is the case, which is an argument I kind of already made in an ask I answered about a possible body swap here.

Because flat-out truth: we don't actually know if Armand tuned Daniel. We didn't see it. Louis didn't see it. You can't tell another vampire's maker just by looking at them. Daniel called Armand his Maker. Meaning, that is probably what Daniel told Louis. But we didn't see it.

And Daniel's eye color, what his vampire eye color should be, is completely wrong.

Yes, they very well could do something like a body swap off-screen. Because, hell, if this show had been canceled after Season 2, at least they got the main story, Louis' story, done. Going into things like body switching and all of that? Would have taken way too much time to explain and been a long-ass digression when they only had a short amount of time to wrap up that main story -- Louis' story.

Raglan James. Look, maybe Justin Kirk's character is Marius in truth, IDK. But right now? At this moment? I'm doubtful again. And that switching bodies comment he made in 2x06 of his was a "wink wink, nudge nudge" obvious thing to say (when it comes to books fans), but maybe that was the point. That it was too obvious and so we'd dismiss it. When it very much was going to happen. And now has.

The Talamasca being the one to publish the book -- which was confirmed that they did in this episode -- would have put Daniel in close proximity to James. For months.

So until we get Season 3 showing me Daniel (as Daniel) getting turned -- and by who -- I'm not believing that was Daniel at the end. Sorry, people can disagree with me on this, it's fine. But unless Rolin Jones himself flat-out says that was Daniel -- and not just in body but in mind/spirit /consciousness as well? I'm not going to believe it until I see his turning with my own eyes. Hopefully in Season 3. But I have a gut feeling I'm going to have to wait until Season 4. 😑

And look, I know many people do not want Daniel to be body-swapped. And so will probably resist everything I just said above about it very much being a possibility that already happened. And hey, maybe at the top of Season 3 when we see Daniel again (if we do) they'll change his eye color to violet, (or morph his eyes that color, IDK 🙄), and when we see the actual turning of Daniel we'll see that Armand didn't do it out of spite despite what Louis said about it happening right after he left Daniel alone with Armand (!!!), and they'll explain why Daniel is fine being on his own as a rouge vampire and still hates Armand and . . .

But right now? No. I'm not in the damn mood to try and make this work or make sense. I'm just not. Because it doesn't make any IMO. Not if you want to keep to the heart of what Daniel and Armand's love story is about.

And really. Daniel getting turned didn't bring his memories of the 1970s -- and yes the Devil's Minion chase with Armand -- back? Really?

Unless the show is honestly going to sit here and tell me that the chase didn't happen back then and so, therefore, Armand really did turn Daniel out of spite and not love?

Or is Armand now messing with Daniel's memories and blocking things from his mind now -- while keeping himself hidden from Daniel of course as he does so! Even though, as his Maker, accessing Daniel's mind like that wouldn't be very easy I should think.

Or, let me guess, the chase somehow did happen sometime between Louis throwing Armand into the wall and Daniel having the book published. Even though Daniel would have been in close contact and proximity to the Talamasca the whole damn time he was writing and editing the book in prep for it being published. Somehow, Daniel is supposed to find time to run around the world from Armand during all of that, without the Talamasca knowing about it? While he's in the middle of writing it? (Because Daniel only had recordings, remember? As he said himself in Episode 1x01, he still had to write it all up. Not to mention how Louis set Daniel's laptop on fire. Guess he kept a backup copy of the recordings in The Cloud.)

And that is all moot anyway, given what Louis said about when Daniel was (supposedly) turned. Daniel would have been a vampire during all of that since Armand supposedly turned Daniel during however long Louis left Daniel and Armand alone together in Dubai (!!!).

Does everyone see all the holes in all of this? Yet, this is a show that called back to episodes 1x02 and 1x03 about Lestat not being able to use the Mind Gift to talk to Louis, as well as what Lestat is capable of wrt his Mind Gift ability over humans. They set up the contradiction that put holes in Armand's story about the trial that far back. But somehow leave plot holes like this . . .?

To put it all bluntly, the minute I saw Danie's eyes -- and the way he changed their color like that, to that color? I think I actually recoiled. I recoiled at that whole damn scene. Because as far as the Devil's Minion storyline goes, the heart of it? That is not Devil's Minion. And I stand by that.

But hey, except for all of that wrt Devil's Minion, I actually liked the rest of the episode, for the most part. 🤷🏾‍♀️ Pretty much everything having to do with Louis and I really liked Loustat's reunion too. Though I might be missing something wrt it because it's clearly an adaptation of the contested meeting of them at the end of the IWTV book, but then . . . Louis goes back to Dubai to live after that? And I'm pretty sure he's alone and Lestat's not with him. Hmm. 🤔

The reveal of Armand doing what he did wrt the trial -- yeah, that's not all there is to it. We'll get major parts of the story from Lestat's POV next season, but we are not going to hear about the whole thing until we get Armand's POV. Because that little POV of the real trial that we saw was probably just Louis figuring things out about what happened. Not Armand's POV of it.

And which hey, to circle back to Daniel's turning again wrt Armand, this turning throws his character under the bus even more IMO, if any of what the show implied about it actually happened. Again, him even remotely turning Daniel so casually, out of spite, leaves open for a general audience that Armand is flat-out lying about having never turned anyone. Especially given the timing of when Louis implied Daniel was turned, which is right after he left them alone together in Dubai.

See, after the events of both IWTV and TVL, what Devil's Minion did and showed, even to Anne Rice herself, was that Armand wasn't just some manipulative little evil gremlin. That he actually did have a heart, deeply capable of love. Shown by his falling in love with a human. Again, that is a key point -- he fell for Daniel as a human. He turned Daniel because that love was deeper than his fear about making another vampire. And Armand only left Daniel after that turning when Daniel wanted him gone.

If you change that, then you change a massive point wrt Armand's growth and depth as a character. And, from the little info we got, that is very much what we see and have been told wrt Daniel's turning if any remote part of it was true. And, as I said, there really is no room to squeeze in things like a chase or Armand turning Daniel out of love. Not in my view at least, even everything I already laid out above about it.

I'm not in the mood to go into "maybe's" about all this right now. That is all just some hoop jumping I'm not in the mood to do at the moment.

Oh and I guess Daniel was the character who needed the second interview to happen? He was the one who needed it in 2x05 and Louis was the one who needed it in 2x08. Okay.

So yeah, as I said, as far as an adaptation of the first book goes, I really do think it was brilliant and excellently done. Espcially wrt Louis' story. The problem is, however, I know what the rest of the story is and where it goes. And that this all isn't over yet. And, unfortunately, I can't erase that from my head.

So in that regard, especially when it comes to the one storyline I never thought I'd ever see adapted? To say I'm frustrated is to put it mildly. Because if that really was Daniel, body and spirit/soul then I can't see myself ever liking how they adapted this version of Devil's Minion. Not right now. And they are going to have to go a long way to explain it and win me over to it if this is really the set place we're going with this is how Daniel was turned and him as a vampire -- if they can.

Sorry to end this on a kind of downer note. I will say, I'm not quitting the show over this or something. Right now I am open to see where they take this and if I'm correct about many of the things I've said or not. It's just I was never going to be able to see that ending in a vacuum wrt Devil's Minion . . . which I could wrt the 1994 because I saw it before I read the books.

So this is very likely an instance where non-book readers have an advantage over book readers in how they reacted to the Daniel part of that ending vs how I did. I can recognize that. And at least I don't feel like the show was insulting my intelligence with what they did. Not yet at least, as I can see where things have been left open to correct a LOT of stuff. I just wish I didn't have to wait through a hiatus wrt this to see where and how they are really going to take this. But at the very least, I think this hiatus will be shorter than the last one.

So yeah, again, as far as an adaptation of IWTV the book goes? Excellent. As far as the Devil's Minion storyline goes regarding Daniel's turning? No. Frustratingly incomplete when I look at it kindly but critically; and just a flat-out bad adaptation of it if I take all of that which we saw at face value.

[nanomooselet]

My Brother's Keeper (VII)

Knives, despite it all, I do indeed pity you. You horrible creature. More than you might imagine anyone would dare.

I said some time ago that Knives has agency and Vash doesn't, and that the Eye of Michael's dogma demands sacrifice.

One lives. One dies.

When Knives tells Vash to leave humanity, it's at that very instant Vash realises the truth: that this isn't about the Plants versus humans. It was never about that, ever, and trying to dissuade Knives from continuing his descent by arguing from that premise isn't ever actually going to work.

It's about how discovering Tesla broke them in two. It broke reality, cracked the singular unit they once believed themselves to be in half, and sent each half down forever-separate paths in both space and time.

Vash, through Rem, decided he could face the future. Even despite this discovery, how apathetically cruel the world is to the innocent, the future is always ours to shape as long as we live to choose. Rem showed him that through acknowledging and accepting responsibility for the pain of the past, even if once ignorant or complicit, one could learn and heal, and therefore work to be free of it. Not perfect. Never perfect. But still better.

Nai only saw potential pain. The fear of facing the world where it could be inflicted, and of those who'd done so, consumed him. He would erase both by returning to the past, the innocence and ignorance of having never learned the frightening truth. He'd thus build a paradise, an Eden, where no sin was committed and no sinner would set foot. He alone, in his own singular perfection, was fit both to assume this task and the power - and thus the right - to fulfil it.

Since when have we been so different?/Who are you? We've become so different I don't think I even know you anymore.

Vash begins to cry because he sees now that Nai… Nai is gone. Maybe he ran for too long, or maybe the Nai he thought he knew never existed. It doesn't matter anymore. There's nothing of his brother left to love in this monster before him, who's done everything that he's done and isn't sorry and wants to keep doing it by seizing control over Vash's own body. (Even though they look more like each other now than they have since they were kids, which still absolutely ruins me.) Vash grieves his brother, his brother's love and their togetherness in the past, but he finally knows for sure that they're gone, and he must define his own identity, and move beyond them.

His declaration that he'll always run isn't about running from humanity, anymore than Knives is truly fighting for the freedom of the Plants.

Seriously, Knives isn't fighting for the freedom of the Plants. He thinks he is, because he thinks that justifies controlling their bodies and consuming their power and benefiting from their suffering, but he's reversed cause and effect. He acts and so they suffer, but he believes their suffering is what motivates his actions and not his fear and his greed for the power to destroy whatever he fears. It's circular, and it's entirely self-centred.

It's the logic not of a liberator but of the entire system of oppression.

Knives's paradise, the home to which he's so desperate to return, no longer exists. It never will again. Not for him or for Vash or for the Plants. Knives himself broke it. Knives himself ripped it out of the heavens and plunged it into the earth, shattering it, so he could reshape the pieces into something that he alone controlled. Knives will always assume control, and he won't stop if you give what he says he wants, because he won't admit or even try to understand that it's not the truth.

He wants to stop being scared and alone. He wants his brother to need him and never leave him. He wants his mother, but she's gone. (He killed her. Over and over and over again he kills her and she's still always gone and he hates her for always being gone. Why is she gone? Why didn't she stay? He asked. He gave her a choice.)

(Yet in Vash's memories and in the people he loves, Rem's spirit lives on, and always will. She still loves him, her perfect boy, even still protects him, just as she promised she would. Did you guys know Vash's coat is bulletproof? Did you guys realise Vash literally still walks around kicking ass in the protective embrace of his mother? I actually had to take a minute, when I figured it out. It made me tear up.)

I was rejected?

Let me back in! Take me back.

Knives wants to go home. To be a child again with Vash by his side. Innocent, together, in paradise. But once you've grown up, you can never really go home again. It's a fundamentally selfish desire to want everything to go back to being the same forever - what it means is that because it was good or kind for you specifically, everyone else has to conform whether it was good and kind to them or not. There's always danger in nostalgia even when it's not misplaced. It encourages destructive nihilism, malicious and ignorant apathy. If the best can only ever be behind us, there is no reason to try to go on.

Vash is not nostalgic. Vash will run, and run, and keep running. For a lifetime if he has to - and a Plant's lifetime is a long one. It's not that he hasn't made a choice, but that he'd already made it long ago: to be free of Knives, to live and to fight for independence from his brother's abusive care, and to find a way to unite humans and Plants, the purpose he's been eager and happy to serve since the day he found it. Rem's dream is one he longs to fulfil, and he finally knows he has the power, intelligence, resilience, strength and above all, the right to take up that task.

He's just acknowledged and accepted that it's not also his purpose to help his stupid brother, not if this is all he gets in response. Dismissed, ignored, insulted, his grief and compassion mocked; abused, put down, smothered, injured, rendered permanently disabled, scarred, violated, traumatised. Forced into the shape that Knives imagines he should be in, pieces cut away until he fits the image in his brother's head.

It's very sad that after all that Knives has done to him, Vash doesn't value his own life and wellbeing enough to care for himself as much as he cares for everyone else in the world. But it still beats Knives trying to do it for him. He's so bad at it.

In the past, on occasions such as this, when Vash demonstrated like... the capacity to sort of almost disagree, Knives would yell at him suddenly and loudly enough that Vash would freeze up in terror, and then Knives would do whatever he wanted regardless. My man isn't good at hearing the word "no". If yelling or insults failed, he'd do something physically violent. I've seen a lot of takes on how funny and/or gay it is that Vash's reaction to Wolfwood grabbing his lapels and threatening to torture him to death is... this.

But understand that when Vash suggests an alternative that doesn't involve mass murder, his brother tends not to agree to it. Or stop at threats. Vash's arguments with Knives always make Vash sound a bit pathetic and dumb because Knives doesn't actually engage Vash - he shuts him down or insults him, telling him he's too weak and stupid to even speak. He has no respect at all for Vash's opinions, abilities, or as a person - honestly, I wouldn't treat an animal this way.

When someone finally respects your beliefs and abilities after they've been coldly or violently dismissed so many times, that's… how it feels.

Knives assumed that Vash had no powers so he was weak, and then when Vash did demonstrate powers, that Vash was weak because he was frightened of them. As usual, the trauma he's inflicted maybe being the problem never entered his mind; it's always Vash's fault. When Vash finally has both power and the will to assert control of it, he finally has the capacity and strength to enforce his refusal. And that leaves Knives finally exhausted of any means to break his will.

Except one. One final choice.

Vash is right: the plan has failed and this is over. Knives can never again have the power he desires, and what's more, Vash would rather be shot at for another hundred years than be together with his brother in paradise.

In spite of everything Knives has done to destroy it, the independent identity of Vash the Stampede yet survives. And so.

One lives.

One dies.

Nai is dead.

There's no turning back.

(The stars are falling down.)

And no one ever really goes home.

If you want to tell me Stampede is a poor quality adaptation, it's not funny and it's shallow and Vash is a loser now and there's no Milly and they're just exploiting the property and if it just hadn't been called Trigun maybe... maybe...

Maybe! You're entitled to an opinion. I'm open to the discussion. I do always try to assume good faith.

However, I'm still probably not going to agree.

And I'm done. Now I need to lie down on the floor and cry over my beautiful disaster twins. Thank you very much for reading! I encourage you to be as insane in the tags as you feel moved to be, because I crave validation.

(Extreme Lesbianism for Meryl Stryfe: Coming Soon.)

(Part I)

(Part II)

(Part III)

(Part IV)

(Part V)

(Part VI)

[george-weasleys-girl]

I think the idea of George introducing (y/n) to his parents is totally cute and I think your style off writing would rock that. Happy new year by the way! All the best for you and your stories :)

This is my first ever request. I had such fun writing it. I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: brief allusion to sex, one mention of alcohol

~•~

Meet the Weasleys

~•~

"Ugh, gross. Why are my palms so sweaty?" Y/N muttered to herself, grabbing a paper towel, to wipe the sweat from her hands. Her early morning boost of confidence was gone, leaving her pacing from one end of the kitchen to the other.

She tossed the used paper towel in the trash and looked out the window for the 982nd time. George would be here any minute to take her to have lunch with his parents at his childhood home. A place called the Burrow.

Never in her life had Y/N been so anxious about meeting someone's parents. George seemed confident that she'd "be a hit." But, she wasn't entirely convinced. What could she, a "muggle," offer to people who could perform magic, real magic, with the simple flick of a wand? She glanced over at the apple spice cake she'd baked for dessert and hoped it would be enough.

~•~

Four months earlier

George woke up with a craving for one of the chocolate filled croissants that Ginny had purchased from a muggle bakery for James' second birthday party. Luckily for him, he had the address, and it was his day off.

The Pie in the Sky Bakery wasn't too far from Diagon Alley, so George decided to walk and enjoy the warm summer morning. Whistling as he went, he just knew it was going to be a good day. And he was right.

He didn't notice Y/N at first, distracted by all the enticing baked goods.

"Can I help you?" Her voice floated over to him, soft and melodious.

George turned and nearly stumbled over his own feet. The owner of that sweet voice somehow managed to brighten the already sunny shop even more. He was mesmerized.

"I-uh, hi." George stuttered and gave a goofy wave before clearing his throat and starting again. "Do you have any chocolate filled croissants today?"

"Of course! They're right over here. How many would you like?" Y/N bounced to the far end of the counter while George followed, a big, dopey grin spread across his freckled face.

He paid for two croissants and an espresso. Then, rather than taking a stroll, as he originally intended, George sat down at one of the little bistro tables and spent the rest of the morning exchanging shy glances and flirty banter with the lovely lady behind the counter.

When he could no longer make excuses for lingering, George approached Y/N. "Could I interest you in dinner tomorrow night?"

"Yes! I'd love to have dinner with you!" She answered, her brilliant smile melting George's heart into a puddle.

~•~

Two months later, to Y/N's delighted surprise, George confessed he was a wizard. And today, for the first time ever, he was taking her home to meet his parents.

George was practically bouncing off the walls.

"Hey mate, try not to leave any George-shaped holes in anything," Fred joked.

"I'll try!" George yelled from his bedroom. "But, I can't make any promises."

Fred shook his head and chuckled. He hadn't seen his twin this elated since he came home from the bakery four months ago gushing over Y/N.

"Ok, how do I look? George asked, suddenly appearing in front of his brother.

"Like a crazed lunatic who just broke out of the asylum."

"Ha, ha. Very funny." George deadpanned.

"Seriously though," Fred continued, scrutinizing his brother. "You look great. It's just..."

"Just what?" George looked down at himself.

"You seem a tad nervous."

"Oh that," the younger twin responded. "Well, I am bringing a girl to meet mum and dad for the first time ever. And mum didn't fancy the last two girls you and Bill brought home."

"Georgie," Fred retorted. "The reason mum didn't like Lizzy is because she had a mohawk and tattoos. And as far as Fleur goes, once mum realized she wasn't after Bill for a quick fling, she warmed right up to her."

"Yeah, you're right. I know you're right." George agreed. "I'm just overthinking again."

Fred patted him on the back. "It'll all work ou--" Fred stopped mid-sentence, closing his eyes and putting his fingertips to his temples. "Wait! I'm getting a vision...I see...you and Y/N together...in a house...and..and, there's something else. Hold on, it's starting to come into focus...yes, that's it! Loads of ginger babies!"

Fred opened his eyes to see George standing with arms folded, his lips quirked up in amusement. "Are you done?" George asked.

"Yes, quite." Fred said, lifting his chin and sauntering away.

George snorted, wondering if Fred knew he was secretly eyeing a cute, little muggle flat halfway between his shop and Y/N's.

~•~

George arrived at Y/N's oozing his usual easy confidence. "Ready for this, my love?" He asked Y/N as they walked to his car.

Y/N took a deep breath, then smiled. "Ready as I'll ever be."

"Don't worry, darling." George said, bending down and planting a kiss on her cheek before opening the car door for her. "They'll love you."

~•~

The closer they got to the Burrow, the faster Y/N's heart raced. George seemed to sense this, and reaching out, he clasped her trembling, sweaty hand in his warm, steady one.

Y/N sighed as a wave of calm rolled over her. A small smile crept across her face, and she began tracing little circles on his hand with her thumb. He squeezed her hand in return, as his own small smile made an appearance.

Neither one spoke the rest of the drive. There was no need. Everything that needed to be said was conveyed through that one simple gesture connecting them to one another.

~•~

Y/N didn't have time to marvel at the impossible higgley-piggleyness of the Burrow. As soon as she stepped out of the car, Mrs. Weasley pulled her into a hug. "Oh my goodness, look at you. Cute as a button! You know, George talks about you all the time. It's so good to finally meet you! He tells me..." Mrs. Weasley's non-stop chatter faded as she led Y/N into the house, leaving George and Arthur to collect the cake.

George released a long breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Relieved, son?" Arthur asked.

"Yeah, actually." George admitted. "I was afraid she'd give Y/N the cold shoulder like she did to Fleur."

"Ah, you needn't have worried about that." Arthur began. "Bill sprung Fleur on us out of nowhere. We had no idea he was even dating anyone. But you've been talking about Y/N for months. Your mum has had time to get used to the idea. Not to mention," Mr. Weasley added with a chuckle. "She’s ecstatic that Y/N's a baker. Now she has someone to talk shop with."

The same dopey grin that had spread across George's face the day he met Y/N returned, and to Arthur's amusement, his son practically skipped into the house.

~•~

A wonderful lunch turned into an impromptu bake-a-thon with George bounding around the kitchen "helping" Y/N and Molly as they made one treat after another. His unrestrained joy was so sweet and infectious that neither of the women were upset when he accidentally put a cup of salt and a teaspoon of sugar into one of the batters, rather than the other way around.

Even Arthur, who generally stayed out of the kitchen whenever Molly was cooking, found himself pulled into the mélee by his giddy son. By the end of the day, they were all covered in flour, frosting, and a vast array of sprinkles, thanks to George and Arthur getting a bit too happy with decorating the colorful little confections.

~•~

"This ranks as one of the best days of my life," George commented as he and Y/N relaxed on the tiny balcony of her flat, sipping whiskey and nibbling on chocolate chip cookies.

"I have to agree, Georgie." Y/N concurred, using the nickname reserved only for her and Fred. "I can't believe I was so nervous. Your parents are wonderful."

George smiled and lifted her hand to his lips, leaving a lingering kiss on her knuckles. Then, he turned his gaze to the moon. "It's getting late."

"It is." Y/N responded.

"I don't want to leave."

"You know my bed is always open to you." Y/N said with a cheeky grin.

"I know." George's eyes twinkled as he uttered the next words. "But, I mean, I don't want to leave ever again."

"I know, love. We never want to part at the end of the day." Y/N responded, still not quite catching on.

"Exactly." George said, jumping right to the heart of the matter. "Will you move in with me? I know it might seem too soon, and if you aren't ready, that's okay, we can w--"

Y/N ended his ramblings with a kiss that made him forget everything he'd ever learned for a few brief moments.

"Of course, I'll move in with you." Y/N said, once they pulled away.

"R-really?"

"Yes, really."

"Yes!" George exclaimed and fist-pumped the air. "This calls for a celebration," he said, picking her up bridal style and carrying her to the bedroom.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Prince of Hell au

By the time Varian was four years old, he had proven that he could be a bit...energetic

Adam: VARIAN STOP USING THE LEAFBLOWER TO SHOOT RUBBER DUCKS INTO THE SKY!

Adam: What the?! Varian when I told you to clean your room, I did not mean to put everything in the washing machine!

Adam was surveying the damage as he walked down the hallway to his youngest's room he saw tracks on the floor that were in the shape of Varian's special made shoes

Adam: Varian, could you explain why our home has sand AND snow!? and I'm not going to even bother asking about the bathroom. Varian? Varian Morningstar this is your mother and so you get your little butt here...

Adam got to Varian's room but couldn't find him anywhere in his line of vision

Adam: Great just great! LUCIFER GET THE HUNTING NET HE GOT OUT AGAIN!

Varian: I'm right here mama

Adam looks down and sighs in relief at the sight of the tiny goat demon, who was wearing a blue sweater with a pair of brown overalls over it paired well with his black and red hooves sneakers. The young prince smiles up at his mama showing all his pearly baby fangs. Adam chuckles at his son even when he is driving him insane with his boundless curiosity and creativity for building and discovery. Seriously it was like watching a mini version of Lucifer sometimes, he bent down to scoop up his son.

Adam: You young Morningstar are EXTREMELY lucky to be the cutest Hellborn to have ever walked this plane, never tell your siblings that, otherwise mama would have sold you to the freak show

Adam said as he kissed his son on the cheek before taking him away to get lunch.

Varian: what's a freak show?

Adam: it's like our family but people pay to see it

Varian: Would people pay to see us?

Adam: Probably.

Varian: Could I charge people a lot of money.

Adam shook his head: Four years old and so ambitious.

Lucifer came running with the net: I GOT IT!!

Adam: I found him dear.

Lucifer: Oh....

Adam placed Varian in his seat while he made him lunch. He made up a sandwich and gave it to his son.

Adam: You can always rangle something else.