#but this idea just struck me so forcefully

[dimsilver]

do y’all ever think about how badly hozier needs to read till we have faces

[velvetreds]

STFU — K. KOZUME

cws; swearing, writing lowkey gives stephen king at one point because i read like four novels in a row while writing this, misunderstandings, gn!reader i think

wc; 1667

"kenma."

he groaned.

"kenma."

"mm." his eyes fluttered open, and he was met with the — extremely fetching — sight of you hovering over him. you looked beautiful, as usual, even though you'd just woken up, and he cracked a small, sleepy smile. okay, he'd seen you. time to go back to sleep. but as soon as he closed his eyes, you poked his cheek to wake him up again.

"y/n, what the hell..."

"you have to wake up, you have practice!"

"fuck practice," he whined, burying his face in his pillow. the awesomest. sleepover of his entire life could not be ending like this. he heard you giggling behind him and groaned again. "i just wanna sleep!" he stopped talking, preparing to doze off again.

"is it too late to join a different club?"

"no," you told him forcefully. "and you're my best friend, so i'd love to let you sleep, but i can't exactly tell kuroo or the coach that, can i?"

and you're my best friend and i'm in love with you, but i can't exactly tell you that either, so we don't always get what we want, do we? he thought drowsily. or he thought he did, anyways, because the next thing he heard was your gasp — maybe a bit too loud, but it was there all the same, and shit, he must've said it out loud.

"what was that?" you asked him, and for a second he panicked.

kenma had never really been a fan of volleyball. it's nothing he hated, but he was sure he'd be perfectly fine without it too. and it was tiring. but he had learnt one thing from it — or maybe he'd known it all along, and it just helped him improve — and that one thing just happened to be bluffing. so he rolled over to stare at you blankly. "huh? I didn't say anything."

"okay," you said, but you weren't really sure he was telling the truth. sometime after you walked him to practice, he started avoiding you, and then you had to accept that yeah, he'd lied.

how could he accidentally confess his love to someone while half asleep? kenma had no idea; furthermore, he was haunted by the fear of other people finding out what he'd kept carefully hidden for over half a decade. he remembered being twelve and kuroo grinning at him so all-knowingly at him. i know what you are, he'd said. not aloud, but kenma had heard it clear as day, just as he noticed how kuroo's canines were glinting unnaturally in the sunlight, and seconds before getting hit squarely in the face with a volleyball because he'd looked away to stare at you. it had totally been worth it, though, he decided, when you came over to his house with a bag of candy and some cold soda.

he was struck with the sudden realisation that he's holding the exact same soda — completely identical, down to the flavour and the size of the bottle — in one hand as his fingers slowly grew numb from the cold when he saw you again, talking to kuroo as the two of you approached him. he was acutely aware of the condensation dripping down his fingers when kuroo yelled out to him, and he waved at the two of nervously with his free hand, trying to gauge your reaction. you waved back, and he was filled with a swirl of emotions, including but definitely not limited to relief.

you didn't find it suspicious when kuroo "had to go" somewhere barely two minutes into your conversations, but kenma did. said suspicions were further confirmed when kuroo — after making sure your back was turned — grinned at him wolfishly and mouthed "good luck" to him as he left.

almost immediately after kuroo disappeared, the atmosphere shifted before either of you even said anything. there was reproach in your gaze as you stared at him silently

(why are you ignoring me?)

there was an unspoken apology in his.

(i'm sorry so sorry i fucked up i didn't mean to this is all my fault)

drip

the two of you stood in silence.

drip

another drop of condensation hit the ground.

you glanced at your watch for the third time.

"do i... do you want me to walk you home?" he asked.

say no, you told yourself. give him the same treatment he gave you.

"yes," you said aloud. "i'd like that."

you had never been able to say no to him, after all.

the walk back to your house was warm and sticky, a textbook summer day if there ever was one. kenma had been looking forward to his stupid drink, but your reddened cheeks and the way your hair clung to your sweaty forehead made him pity you enough to wrench the cap off and hold the bottle out to you. you drank gratefully, and it appeared that you'd cooled down a bit afterwards. alongside your body temperature, the simmering tension between the two of you also went down considerably.

"kenma, will you come in for a bit?" you asked at your door, fingers still wrapped around the neck of the half-empty soda bottle. you weren't sure why you asked, exactly, but you did want to talk things out — losing kenma like this wasn't something you wanted in any way, and you'd lose kuroo by proxy too, resulting in you having a total of zero best friends.

"sure," he replied. to anyone else, his voice would've sounded the same as usual — monotonous, a little bored — but you knew better. he was nervous. for a moment, that made you happy in a weird, twisted sort of way.

he sat cross-legged on your bedroom floor, eyes glued to the switch in his hands as he played. however, today his attention was on you, instead, mind subconsciously following you around your room. hearing you shuffle into the bathroom, he relaxed, but only a little. for some reason, he was sure that your silence was much more terrifying than whatever you were planning to say to him.

when you came out, you looked refreshed, calmer. you padded to your bed, now in your pjs and the terrible fluffy slippers that kenma always despised — until today. how could he ever have hated them, he wondered, when they were so indisputably you?

you forced him into the bathroom next (no sweaty people allowed in my room!) along with some of his clothes he'd left at yours before. it wasn't anything new. all three of you — you, kenma, kuroo — had each other's stuff scattered all around your rooms. the three of you had had a very equal relationship — or so you'd thought. until that fateful day almost a fortnight ago, when kenma had mumbled out an accidental love confession while trying to skip out on practice. surely it wasn't an actual confession, you thought. there was no way he could possibly like someone like you, right?

yeah. exactly. it was an accident, and he felt bad for leading you on so he avoided you. but how could he have known? there was no way that kuroo told him, was there? a new wave of panic washed over you, and you couldn't help but jump in surprise as kenma accidentally opened the bathroom door with an unnecessary amount of extra force and re-entered your room.

"kenma," you sighed with relief. "i got scared for a sec."

"who else would it be?" he asked, a small, slow smile creeping across his face.

"no— i don't know..." you trailed off. before you could say anything else, kenma decided to speak.

"i'm sorry," he said.

"whahuh?" the two words had caught you completely off guard. you hadn't been expecting him to say a specific thing, but you hadn't expected him to apologise either. he bristled uncomfortably under your surprised deer-in-headlights stare.

"i've been avoiding you," he tried next. it was true; you both knew it by now. how were you even supposed to respond? everything you thought of seemed wrong for the situation. instead, you decided to ask a question in return.

"why'd you say you were in love with me?"

kenma cringed at your question, as if it caused him to feel some sort of physical discomfort. "because? i am?"

it came out as more of a question than a statement, and only served to confuse you more. "what?"

and then the words finally registered into your brain, and your face creased into a little frown — an adorable one, too, kenma thought, but he had to remind himself to not get carried away right now. "no, that's impossible. who put you up to this, kuroo?"

a pained grimace crossed his face. "what? no. besides, kuro would never do that."

"then?" you demanded. no response. the two of you stayed silent, you sitting on your bed, and him at the other end of the room.

"um, i was twelve." kenma was the first to break the tensed silence, hating the sound of his own voice.

"when i first liked you, i guess," he added as an afterthought.

"no." you sat up straighter, eyes flicking to the calendar, where a date was circled in bright red marker. beside it, there was an extremely artistic rendition of what you could only guess to be a pudding, done by none other than kuroo. the marked date was kenma's eighteenth birthday. "that's—"

"a long time, i know," replied kenma resignedly. "kuro's told me enough, you don't have to make it worse."

"but i—"

"i know you don't reciprocate, and i'm not asking you to. all i want is for you to forget this ever—"

"kenma, shut the fuck up and let me speak!" you shrieked, tired of his delusional rambling. he flinched at the sound of your voice, but obeyed you all the same.

"i love you too, okay? so stop being stupid!"

kenma blinked in surprise. "huh?"

"didn't see that coming, did you?" you slid off your bed, grinning at him triumphantly.

i dont remember writing this or the process or anything at all. help :3 almost done with the screenshots for unreq lvrs org btw!!!!

[dolicekiss]

Hi I'm not sure if you're taking requests (i don't know how the request work so sorry)

Could u write a one-shot, where Reader and Duncan have a mission and them go to the place but before do the work, they arrive at a hotel and them only rent a room with one bed (obviously) Duncan tells her that he'll take the bed and she'll sleep on the floor, then he go to take a shower and she doesn't care about his request and takes the bed, Duncan comes out and them start to fight because she didn't listen him, until she suggests that both take the bed (Duncan don't like the idea but don't decline and just does it) after a while she stars to tempt him at first he's angry bout all the situation, but the moment takes another path and u alr know (smut) if u r comfortable with ofc. (And sorry my english isn't great sorry for the type errors)

This is an idea of one chat with a bot of c.ia but the bots r not as good as a writer <3

♡: anon i know about this bot and i have done some freaky stuff w it 🤭 i love this request

Contumacious

PAIRING: Duncan Vizla x Bratty!Reader

CONTENT WARNING: smut (18+, mdni), unprotected sex, age gap (reader is in her twenties), bratty reader, dominant duncan, tension, oral (male receiving), duncan calls reader ‘little girl’, overstimulation, choking, hair pulling, biting, slight blood, degrading, talkative duncan, slight (very minor) fluff at the end.

SYNOPSIS: On a mission, Duncan decides to stay at a hotel room for further planning and to rest. But when he orders you to take the floor and decides to stake his claim over the bed, things become heated between the two of you.

Duncan didn't expect to see a single bed in the room when he stormed in, along with you, who carried your own bag of basic necessities.

Frustration was as clear as water on his rough features when he realized he'd have to sacrifice a good night's sleep if he were to allow you slumber along him.

So he didn't sacrifice shit.

The man dropped his duffle bag over the bed, in a way branding it as his. “I get the bed, you get the floor.”

You couldn't even oppose because he'd already left for the bathroom, assuming to take a shower. Your lips formed a frown, brows furrowing. Just who did Duncan Vizla think he was? You both were equals on this mission, sent by Damucles to strike down a Mexican mob boss.

Duncan being older didn't mean he could do as he wished. You stood firm on give respect in order to receive it, age had nothing to do with it. You also placed your bag on the bed and slipped off your boots, sprawling across it.

If you had to take the bed forcefully, then so be it.

When Duncan was finished with his shower and came out, he was the least bit pleased with the sight afore him. You on your stomach, laying on the bed, feet up in the air and oscillating.

His bushy eyebrows scrunched in irritation. The man stormed towards you, standing right in front of you and you lifted your gaze up fron the pistol in your hands. Only to acknowledge him before going back to toying with the weapon in your hands.

That only worked to raise his anger more.

“I told you the bed is mine. Get your little ass off it.” You lifted your head, to face him and then slid off the bed. Now standing right in front of him — gaze unwavering and posture strong. Duncan knew you were one hell of a stubborn brat. He'd come across you before and he hated every bit of it.

You placed your hand on your hip.

A pose that struck him with a lash of irritation.

“It is a big bed and who are you to claim it first? Just because you're old, you think you can come in here and order me around?” Duncan’s eyes flared up. Nostrils expanding and the anger on his face was like embers swirling in lava.

He took a step forward. “Listen here, little girl. I might be old but you could never reach the amount of missions I have been successful at, nor do you know real struggle. Try sleeping in the Siberian Winds with no clothes, not a single thread to cover your damn body.”

You couldn't believe it.

He was rubbing his life experiences in your face as if he didn't himself chose to work for Damocles.

He became the black kaiser because he wanted to.

In the heat of the prickling anger, you also stepped forward. Your chest brushing against his. “You chose that for yourself but I won't let you choose the bed. Either we both sleep on it together or you take the fucking floor. There's no way in hell I'm sleeping on the floor.”

Duncan groaned.

He knew of the abundance stubbornness you possessed. There was no way you would back out, knowing that the way you got yourself snuck into his mission was by being completely adamant and demanding money if not allowed in.

But he too couldn't retreat, as his pride was on the line. “I could easily throw you on the floor, little girl.”

You snickered. “I'd like to see you try.”

Duncan stared at you. Drinking in your petite form and how small you were in comparison to him. Primal and dark was what stirred within the base of his abdomen when his mind finally grasped on how pathetic you were. Indeed you were a trained killer, amazing at martial arts too but Duncan knew against him you stood no chance.

Due to the diligence of your work and mission, Duncan never really focused on your features.

Your challenge nearly caused him to pick you up and toss you on the damn floor. Duncan raised his hand — fingers opening to wrap around your throat. The inside of his fingers brushed across your throat and you swallowed tightly, waiting for him to act out his aggression.

Duncan’s hand fell.

Your brow raised at his defeat. “Fine but you better keep at your side. If I see a damn leg or arm of yours on my side, you best believe I'm choppin’ it off.”

You dismissed him with your hand and Duncan’s hand formed into a fist. He really wanted to teach you a lesson. Hating how you paraded around Damocles like you were the only one, an egoistic but skilled assasian.

Just for the sake of the mission, Duncan let it go.

He settled on the bed on one side and watched you take out your own clothes from the duffle bag, making your way to the bathroom. In your hand were some panties and a loose, button up shirt. It was what you'd managed to pack in a hurry when you were told about your mission with Duncan.

Honestly, you sort of looked up to him.

No one was as heavily respected in Damocles as he was.

The Black Kaiser.

Aim perfect and sharp. He knew so many ways to discard the enemy and you'd only witnessed a few of them on this mission. It filled you with unbridled excitement when you'd finally landed yourself with him.

Your shower was relaxing. Warm water soothing all your strained muscles — the combat sure taking its toll on you. Slow hands caressing the skin, ridding of it any dirt that lingered. After done shampooing your hair and washing your body, you dried yourself and changed into your clothes.

The outfit was sultry to say the least but you knew Duncan was a man who would never find you attractive.

You knew of his irritation and annoyance aimed at you. It was honestly adorable at times how he got pissed, finding joy in pushing at his buttons.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, Duncan’s head snapped into your direction and his expression hardened. There you sauntered towards the bed with bare thighs and plush breasts peeking out from within the confines of your shirt.

He swallowed, his adjustment of himself not slipping past you.

You laid down on the bed and let out a sigh, finally finding peace. A good night’s rest was surely needed and this bed could provide it all. As you shifted to find a comfortable position, your shirt rose up in the friction exposing the black lining of your panties.

Duncan caught a glimpse of it.

His eyes darkening.

“Could've worn something warmer.” Duncan said, not looking at you. A scowl made its way across your face as you sat up, body strength on your palms. Leaning forward made your loose shirt fall by your sides, cleavage revealed.

“You got a problem with everything, old man.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Is that your only retort? Calling me old?” He snapped, staring at you. For a moment his gaze lingered to your lips and then back up to your face. Eyes filled to the brim with frustration and something – dark too. Lust or maybe anger.

“Are you not old? I bet you can't even get it up anymore.” You chuckled and that seemed to have crossed the line. Duncan reached for you, hand entangling in your hair. You felt him tug on the roots and pull you closer, face only a mere inches away from yours.

Your breath hitched.

Fighting him right now could get really dirty and you wanted to see how far Duncan was willing to go. His action only working to entice you. “You really should watch your damn mouth, little girl. I don't take nicely to such disrespect.”

You let out a chuckle. “Accept it. You cannot get it up, old man.”

Duncan’s fist tightened, nostrils flaring at your impolite words. You stared at him, your tongue slithering out like an enticing snake and running across the plump of your lips in an attempt to seduce him. “Or can you? I've heard older men fuck better. Is that true, Duncan?”

Duncan growled.

He tugged you down, to between his legs. Duncan nuzzled your face against the tent in his trousers. His bulge protruding as he shoved your face against it. “Does that look like I can't get it up, little girl?”

You shook your head slowly, hands hastily moving to pull down his trousers, paired with his briefs. His cock sprung out, nearly hitting you in the face and a soft gasp escaped your lips. It was big — fucking massive and you hadn't expected a man of Duncan's age to have such a big cock. Precum sheened over his tip.

It was thick and you knew the pain of the stretch inside you would be delicious. Veins ran from its base, disappearing underneath the pink tip. Your mouth watered at the sight, fingers gently wrapping around the girth.

A sweet hiss fell from Duncan’s lips.

You parted your lips and pushed out your tongue, running it in little licks over his tip, managing to taste his salty precum. Duncan’s breath grew heavier along each lick — chest moving in a slow rhythm.

His fingers still drowned in your hair. Duncan tugged harder, an indication for you to pick up. So you did, wrapping your lips around his tip and sucking it in, taking his fat cock all the way into your tight mouth until it had fully disappeared. You could feel it slip past the little uvula hanging in the air of your mouth, the warm flesh feeling like embers over your tongue.

“Jesus, you're pretty good at taking a cock.”

A giggle almost slipped — you attempted to breath through your nose and salvated around his throbbing dick. Your eyes met Duncan’s drowsy ones and as you whimpered, the vibrations from your throat shot straight through his abdomen.

His hands guided down your head furthermore, burying your nose into his neatly trimmed pubic hair.

Duncan pulled you up, only to slam his cock back inside your mouth. A repetitive action, his thighs shaking and flexing whenever the wetness and constriction of your throat welcomed him. Panting like a hungry beast, he fucked himself into your mouth.

Hips snapping up in desperate thrusts to gain his release.

“Good little girl. This is what your mouth is made for—what it's supposed to do.” He grunted when your struggles began in the form of small hands lightly punching at his thick thighs. “You're only a cocksucking little bitch.”

Tears stung your eyes from how horribly you gagged all over him. His tip repeatedly hitting the back of your throat while moaning out loud. Divulging his pleasure to the people outside the hotel room.

Duncan loved the way you gagged around his cock. Tears sitting prettily in your beautiful eyes and he couldn't help but feel himself come near at the sight of you, this weak and pathetic underneath him. If he'd known sharing a bed would lead to this, the man would've given up in one single breath.

“Fuck—fuck. I'm close, I'm so fuckin’ close, my little girl. Keep suckin’ my cock like that, like the filthy bitch you are.” Duncan was vocal.

That was for sure and you enjoyed every bit of it.

After fucking your mouth for quite some time, Duncan finally shot loads of warm fluid down your throat. You struggled, kicking and thrashing everywhere but he didn't let go. He only continued to ride out his orgasm, feeling his own cock lubing up in the process of fucking his cum down your throat.

When he let you go, you promptly pulled back with a loud gasp. A sharp intake of oxygen. Cum and saliva dribbling in rivulets down your chin, tears wetting your cheeks. Duncan watched as your tits rose up and down, bouncing down slightly whenever you dragged in air.

Your eyes widened when you saw how Duncan’s soft cock suddenly became hard again, rising up. Curved and strong — tip caressing his abdomen. It was embarrassing for you because you'd called him out for not being able to get it up, here he was. In his late fifties, ready to fuck you dumb.

“Fuck you lookin’ at? Hop on.”

Your pussy throbbed. An insatiable ache that only his delicious cock could satisfy. You tossed one leg over his waist, while holding his cock with your hand. Aligning it at your hole, you finally sunk down on it. Duncan and you groaned in unison.

Feeling his cock enter you was such an indecipherable feeling. He filled you all the way, his tip reaching your womb almost. You placed both your palms over his chest, running your nails into the grey and black hair on his chest. Your lips parted, eyes rolled as you fully consumed him.

“Such a hungry fuckin’ pussy you've got. Taking me all the way in.” Duncan raised his hand and smacked your ass. “Cmon, move now.”

You obliged — beginning to grind your hips. In a slow back and forth rhythm. Duncan’s head was thrown back, pressed into the headboard while both his hands settled at your hips. Helping you grind down on his cock. You didn't even want to move, that's how much you fucking relished in him filling you up but then he lifted you, slamming you back down on his cock.

“Yeah, just like that.�� He growled when you started to slide up and down. Hopping like a damn bunny in heat, feeling his veiny thick cock rub at your sensitive walls. Your whines were loud and prominent through the room as you held tightly onto his broad shoulders.

Lips agape and hair wet from the shower, it made you appear ten times prettier than you were. Duncan’s cock only hardened more, if possible inside you. The tremor in your whole frame was slowly becoming known to him and he scoffed, a breathty grunt leaving his lips. “Can't even fuck yourself on my cock and you have the audacity to speak to me with disrespect.”

“I'm sorry,” came a whimper from you. Nails digging into the skin of his shoulders, dragging them down into tiny slits.

Duncan helped you ride him, both his hands tugging at the flesh of your rear. He drove himself into you, in and out, in a fast rhythm. It was all too hot. Your body felt like it was boiling up and Duncan’s hands moved up to hold your breasts, thumbs flicking the nipples.

Dark brows furrowed and lips fallen apart, he let out aggressive grunts like some hounddog that couldn't have enough of you. “Pathetic whore. Jus’ a pathetic little whore who needed to be fucked. If—fuck,” he grunted, balls throbbing. “If you craved a cock this badly, you could've said so.”

Your eyes squeezed shut and walls gripped him like a vice. Duncan leaned forward and bit down on your shoulder, teeth digging into the skin hard enough to draw blood. He continued making you ride him, loving the way your tits bounced in his hands. A feeling driving him delirious.

The sound of skin against skin grew.

A languorous heat spread in your lower stomach. An indicator of your upcoming orgasm. Duncan’s hands kept playing with your soft mounds — his teeth littering bite marks at where your neck and shoulder became one and the way his hammered his cock inside your cunt was enough to push you over the edge.

Your arms flew to his shoulders, holding him tightly. “Duncan, ‘m gonna cum. ‘m so close, please.”

He looked up at you, loving the warmth you produced when you'd clung onto him like a koala to a tree. He pressed his lips over yours, something he himself was in shock at. His teeth tugged at your lower lip, sucking on it and as the kiss warmed, so did your cunt.

Duncan groaned as you slammed down on his cock repeatedly. A strong and soul chilling orgasm tearing through you. Eyes rolling back to your head and whimpers of sensitivity echoing in the room. He held you tightly as you came, enjoying how your little frame suffered from convulsions under his hold.

Duncan didn't give you a chance to even register your climax. He'd already began thrusting up your cunt, arms wrapped around your waist in a bone crushing hold. “Wait—wait! I still— oh my god.”

He didn't let you relax.

After all he too needed to cum.

Duncan could feel the throbbing sensation in his balls and the pulsating of his fat cock inside you. With a few, harsh strokes delivered inside your pussy, he released himself and your head buried in his neck from the feeling of being filled to the brim. His hot cum shot out, rope by rope, decorating the gummy walls of your pussy.

You could feel all of it.

Heightened sensitivity.

Your body went limp over his, leisurely dropping and Duncan held you. Both of you panted like wild animals who'd just got done finishing their preys. Your breathing was uneven and your throat was parched. Duncan heaved out, his low groans sending waves of sparks to your aching cunt again.

Thick fingers running up and down your bare back, with his other hand he caressed your hair. He wasn't rough when it came to sex but at times he felt like destroying your cunt whenever you'd speak to him in that stuck up, vicious little tone.

Duncan’s hand that played with your hair suddenly tightened, fingers pulling on the soft locks and you whimpered.

You were thrown off his lap on the bed. Appalled at his actions, you turned to look at him but Duncan only pressed your head further into the bed with his large hand. His other hand pulled your lower body, bending your knees.

“Wh-What are you doing?” You gasped out, the question coming out muffled.

Duncan let out a chuckle. “You thought we were done, hm? There ain't no way we're done with one round, little girl.”

You couldn't even resist as Duncan sunk his cock into you. Back arching and spine curving, a muffled whine of need and satisfaction echoing. He held you down as he thoroughly fucked you, his hips colliding with yours. Balls hitting the swollen stripe of your cunt.

“Look at you.” His bated breath increased your libido, as you were also speechless at his. Duncan was still ready to go on meanwhile you were struggling with staying still. Tired and drained from all his harsh strokes.

His grip on your hair tightened as he pulled you up to his chest, locking you firmly. Duncan pulled out then pushed right back into you, his tip reaching your womb. A small bulge forming on your stomach everytime he slammed back into you. Tears of overstimulation dropped like pearls on your face and Duncan moaned in your ear.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He praised.

Your walls clenched.

Duncan hissed and felt his strokes become steady, dragging across your spongy walls to feel them. Then he climaxed inside you, filling you up again once more. This time his cum dripped out of you, making a mess on his own cock and your thighs. Pussy glistening from the slick, cum and your own climax.

Duncan pulled out and pushed you back down on the bed.

He also collapsed next to you.

Chest rising up and down, breath a broken rhythm. You sniffled into the pillows, thighs shivering the overstimulation you'd suffered at the hands of Duncan. He wasn't as cruel as you'd depicted him to be. Duncan reached for you, pulling you closer to him and wrapping an arm around your waist.

His large arm covering the expanse of your chest.

“Sorry, little girl. You piss me off a lot.” He whispered and you flipped to face him, burying your face in his chest. “And I'll continue to piss you off.”

Despite the fact that he'd pretty much blown your back out twice, you still held on to your defiant traits. He let out a laugh, reaching over to grab a cigarette and light it up.

Dragging in a smoke, he brought the cigarette to your lips and your parted them, allowing him to settle it between them. You pursued his actions and released the smoke through your nostrils.

“That feels good.”

Duncan smiled. “Better than my cock?”

“Oh shut up.”

[alphacentaurinebula]

I Forgive You: Queerness in Oppressive Systems

"How much trouble can I get into just for asking a few questions?"

There are a million ways to read Aziraphale's and Crowley's relationship and choices and I love them all, but one that struck me forcefully was the idea of different reactions to being queer in an oppressive (religious) system.  The two of them are such different people (not people) from the start, and their different experiences of Heaven and Hell are entirely the consequences of their different personalities.

First let's look at Crowley. A happier angel you never did meet. His joy and absolute adorableness in Before the Beginning was one of the sweetest moment in the whole season for me, out of so many sweet moments. He is utterly himself, and can't imagine the idea that he should hide any part of his identity. He is odd, unusual, asks damn fool questions - and he can't see what's wrong with that. Just like a queer kid who grows up in a religious system and  behaves outside of gender norms before realising that was something they weren't supposed to do, he can't imagine getting into trouble for his difference. And just like too many queer kids who can't/don't hide their difference, he gets kicked out of his home and abandoned.

Now, Aziraphale. He is a lot closer to Angel Behaviour TM, but it's clear that's because he understands there IS an expected behaviour, there IS a way he's supposed to act and think. He falls for Crowley, and is made to think about the questions Crowley is asking in a way that steps outside Angel Behaviour TM. But he instinctively understands how dangerous that is. He tries to pass that knowledge onto Crowley, to protect him. As he smushes himself into the Angel box, he ties himself into knots ensuring that he fits perfectly into the system around him, which he has identified as Good and Right and therefore anything different about himself would be Bad and Wrong. Much like a queer person trying to exist under an oppressive religious system, he has repressed those parts of himself that don't fit, and tried to sand off the corners and fit himself into the prescribed shape. 

Carrying this analogy through time, the Crowley we meet in the present day has already been abandoned, which allows him to see the system that left him more clearly. But he has never understood Aziraphale's perspective, because he never tried to change who he was for any system - not Heaven and not Hell. Though he does now understand that he has to hide certain parts of himself to survive - thus his constant refrain of “I’m not kind”. Clearly a necessary concealment, given what happens at the end of the Edinburgh minisode.

Throughout most of the flashbacks and even most of season 1, Aziraphale is still trying to smush himself into the shape of an Angel TM, and is terrified of stepping outside of it. He does learn that he can push the borders, that he can maybe stick a toe out here and there, that he can even fully step outside it for a moment as long as he doesn’t get caught (ie Job). But what he never really learns or at least never really believes, despite a mountain of evidence, is that Heaven is not synonymous with Good and Right. 

We can see it with Job, where Aziraphale is jumping through a million mental hoops to pretend to himself he is still doing the will of God even though he has been expressly told and seen evidence that God’s actual will is something Aziraphale would consider ‘wrong’. In Edinburgh he drops a heck of a lot of "ineffable"s trying to convince himself and Crowley that the heavenly system as it exists is just and right. 

And throughout season 2 but especially at the end, he clearly still feels that some Angels might not be Right and Good, but Heaven is Right and Good, and if only the right Angel is in charge of it, it can return to its core essence.

He still believes that Heaven is inherently Good, and so he is still trying to fit himself into a system that would reject him if it really knew him.

And all that is where “I forgive you” comes from for me - or at least that is one of the interpretations that makes sense to me. That basically because he's still so determined to fit into that Angel Shape TM, still so determined to be what Heaven says is right, that he is forgiving Crowley for challenging that, for making him want something else for a moment, for making it harder for him to repress those parts of himself that are different and, in his/Heaven's view, wrong.

And that is why Season 3 must end with Aziraphale realising that Heaven is not Good TM and with the takedown of the Celestial system itself. Yes apparently I end all of my metas with this now.

[fandomworld9728]

Oops... (Angel Dust/Lucifer)

(Requested by @buuteer) (AppleDust hidden relationship getting found out) (Hope this is okay. I wasn't really sure how to go about it and ran with this idea when it popped into my head)

(Warning! This takes place during episode 6 of Hazbin Hotel! So not only spoilers but trigger warning for Val being his usual dickhead, possessive, violent self!) (Also, protective Lucifer and Alastor as a bonus!)

"You forget who you're talking to. I own you."

The pink chains connecting Angel to the Overlord were yanked, pulling him close to him. "Yeah. You do. In the studio, and you can do anything you want to me in there, just like our deal says. But out here? I get to do what I want. So once again. Fuck off-"

Before Angel could finish, the moth demon had back handed him, sending him and Niffty to the floor. Mouth now bleeding. It had felt good to finally stand up to the man even with the repercussions. He wasn't about to let the creep mess with his friends. Especially not after what had happened that day with Charlie.

"Enjoy the rest of your night, bitch, because I'm going to enjoy making you pay for it tomorrow."

A flash of light bright light mixed with an eerie green filled the place, a summoning circle now between Angel Dust and Valentino to keep them separated. "What the fuck is this?"

Hushed whispers came from the sinners arounds them as Lucifer stepped out of the circle and walked slowly towards the moth demon, Alastor, who had accidentally got caught up in this, stayed put scanning over the people of the hotel. More importantly, over the two souls that he owned.

"That is a good question. What is all this?"

"Oh. Fuck. No, wait. Luci don't."

"Luci? Angel sweetie, have you been fucking our dear King and keeping it from me?"

Fuck. "Val listen-"

"Wow. You're that possessive that you need to know all of his clients when you never bothered to ask in the first place? That's how it started out and now it's much more than that. I've tried to stay out of this because that's what Angel wanted. However, this is the second time you've struck him since we've been together."

To say that Lucifer was pissed was an understatement. The day that Angel came to him after a long day of work to relieve some stress and was sporting a black eye, he was ready to go and teach that Overlord how to properly treat the souls under his care. But he was asked to stay out of it. Was reassured that Angel wanted to get out of this and handle it on his own. Lucifer only backed off when he was promised that the next time something like that or worse happened that he had permission to break the guy's face in.

"Ugh, I'm getting an ache in my neck. You're too goddamn tall. How about you come down to my height?!"

Seeing this side of Lucifer did something to Angel. Small, beautiful, powerful, Lucifer. The King of Hell. Defending him like this. The spider demon couldn't help but feel so loved and cared for.

"Holy shit, Angie. You're datin' the King of Hell and didn't tell me?" Cherri asked, helping her best friend up.

"I'll uh... explain later. Oh shit. Where's Niff?"

"Our dear Niffty was involved in this?" And now Alastor was going to join in the beating. Angel wasn't going to complain. The guy had it coming for a long time.

~

Landing on her butt in the hotel's foyer after Adam forcefully sent them back through a portal, Charlie jumped up and ran over to the group sitting and tending to Angel. Her dad was wiping the blood from his lips to make it easier to heal while Alastor, surprisingly enough, was holding Niffty protectively.

"Dad! You've been dating Angel Dust?! Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't either of you tell me? When did it happen? For how long?" A long string of rushed out questions tumbled from her mouth before Vaggie lightly took her by the shoulders and made her sit down.

"Babe. Give them a chance to answer."

"Wait.... how did you find out? This came out while you were in Heaven."

"Oh. Well. We were watching you guys to prove to Sera and the court that redemption could be possible. Uh... Adam was not happy when he found out... but the rest of the court was pleasantly surprised at how you acted and handled the situation! So, Sera would love for you to join us for our rescheduled meeting."

"Of course she does."

"Hey. It's alright baby. I'll join ya if it'll make ya feel better." It felt good to have their relationship out and in the open now. He should have listened to Lucifer before about just being open about it since the beginning.

[risingsoleil]

wow i got inspired🫣 do an AU were Lin dies in Tenzin’s arms so he regrets everything her did to her he regrets her didn’t choose her he spent months trying to go back in time and finally he did it he went back in time and started fixing everything (but he didn’t know Lin remember their past life too)😫

So I wrote this in response to a reincarnation ask, but it's not fully written out. Tbh I don't know if I'll go through with it, but I'll share what I have 🫶🏻

Have another Lin dies scene 🥲

“Do not seek them out, Tenzin!” 

“They’re airbenders, Lin! I can’t turn my back on them!” 

Her eyes hardened. “They are criminals. Just because they’re airbenders now will not change.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“You’re walking into a cave that you might never leave! Stop trying to be a fucking savior!” 

“They can choose not to come with me! But I can’t just turn my back because of their past.” 

“You have enough airbenders for a nation! Who cares if you don't have 4 more?”  

Tenzin sighed, avoiding the piercing gaze that defied him. He walked away from her. “We can argue about this after.”

—-----------------

What started as a peaceful offer to join the Air Nation quickly became a battle of survival and distrust. He had been so focused on fighting the rest of the gang, but knew that Lin was holding her own with the other half of them. 

“Tenzin!” 

Something pressed against his back and forced him to the ground. When he turned, he saw Lin standing between him and a waterbender, eyes slightly widened. And ice blades pierced into her heart, abdomen, and torso, penetrating through the metal armor. 

Before either could react, the blades slid out of Lin forcefully and the perpetrators ran off. Lin coughed harshly from the sudden momentum, blood spilling over her lips. Her steps faltered and she fell weakly to her knees, one hand pressing into her heart. A flood of red endlessly cascaded over the pearly complexion and spilled onto the floor. 

Tenzin scrambled to his feet and he made his way over to Lin, cradling her in his arms. “Lin, stay with me.” He ripped his cloak and pressed it against her chest, the red of his cape darkening with crimson. “I’m going to get you to a healer. Just hold on.” 

“Why don’t you ever listen to me?” 

“I’m so sorry, Lin. This is all my fault. I should have listened to you. You were right, this was a bad idea.” 

Her mouth moved, but her words drowned in pain and survival.  

“Save your breath, Lin.” 

“Please…” she rasped, scrunching her eyes tight, “put me down, Tenzin…” 

The nearest hospital was about an hour away. If he can just carry her on to Oogi, then they might be able to make it on time. Despite her command to release her, Tenzin only tightened his embrace and called for Oogi. Small groans of pain and uneven breathing stuttered near his ears, informing him that Lin was still fighting for her life. At least it was a sign she’s still alive right now.

A dagger of pain struck his heart when Lin cried out in agony as he managed to elevate them into Oogi’s saddle. Guiding Lin to sit sideways on his lap, Lin’s head tilted on his shoulder, Tenzin managed to hold the reins in one hand. He used his free hand to apply light pressure to her wound. His robes grows heavy with her life soaking into the fabric. The wind resisted against him and Oogi. It should have dried out his eyes, but Tenzin’s vision continued to switch between blurriness and clarity.  

Lin’s teeth chattered and her body shivered. “Save your tears for something worth crying over.” 

“Don’t say that,” Tenzin implored, another wave of tears filling his eyes. “We’re halfway there. Just hang on for a little longer.” 

Relief began to swell in his chest at the sight of the hospital looming in the horizon. They would make it, Lin would make it. Without thinking, he pressed a kiss to the top of Lin’s head. “We’re here, Lin,” he whispered. 

But as Oogi lowered himself at the entrance, Tenzin felt a sudden heaviness in his body. The winds were no longer stirring around them from their flight and all he heard was silence. “Lin…” He tilted her chin up and her eyes were closed, complexion slightly gray. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Lin. Lin!” 

Tenzin pressed two fingers over her pulse, searching for the slightest tremor. 

“Lin, please…” His lips trembled, hot tears warming cool skin. “Wake up.” 

A gentle shake. 

“Wake up, Lin. We’re at the hospital.” 

She’s going to wake up soon. He flew them as fast as he could to the hospital. Lin is just resting. 

She’s not dead.  

She’s not dead. 

She’s not dead. 

*****

Inspired by this prompt (I can't remember where I found it on Tumblr) - have them warn their friends that they’re not cut out for a dangerous mission, only for it to result in their death and their friends blame themselves

[b0amagination]

Tastes of Whumptober: Day 13

I had to actually Do Things today so I wanted to write more but I got my idea down and that's what matters :D! These aren't characters I've established or anything, they've just got names because I needed them for the story!

Team as a Family

“Ah, I see! The fiendish pair finally show their faces together when I invite them over for a meeting.” A full, pearly smile swept open the door. “Welcome in, officially.”

The first man adjusted the camera strapped to his chest. His only protection in the lair of the enemy. Two security guards flanked them when they crossed the threshold and took each forcefully by the arms.

“Hey! We had a deal!” The second squirmed and tried to kick the legs out from under them.

“Relax.” A leather gloved hand on his shoulder allowing the other to loom over him. “We had an agreement about contraband. If this is to go on, I’ll be verifying your compliance.” 

They patted him down feeling first over his jacket, grabbing at the empty pockets, then under. An “excuse me” was murmured when feeling more intimate areas, and they finally struck gold at his back left pant pocket. A wallet, and a thick one at that.

“That’s my wallet,” he grumbled. 

“Yes, I do wonder what’s inside. I’ve yet to learn much about either of you.” They flipped it open and plucked out the driver’s license. “Peter Borowski, hm? Thirty-two years of age, a Capricorn… ah, your address. Now we’re even, don’t you think?”

“Give it back, Dorian.” Pulling the name as a power card didn’t mean much when his own had just been revealed.

“I think it’ll stay right here until we conclude tonight. Insurance for me.” They gestured to the camera. The proof that Dorian wouldn’t be able to steal it.

Peter’s legs were felt down as well as his shoes, including the strange bump under the zipper. They unsheathed a concealed knife and stood up, tutting.

“Naughty boy…” The blade pressed to his neck. “This your plan, sweetheart?” The other was struggling against the guard to point his camera their way.

“You’re under surveillance,” he growled. The knife was lifted and held up in surrender.

“No sense of humor in either of you. Calm down, enjoy yourselves!”

“Them first.” He inclined his head toward the guards.

“Touche.” They twirled the knife between their fingers and chucked it behind the pair, the blade lodging itself snugly into the wooden doorframe. Both flinched. “Finders keepers.”

Deeming their business finished with Peter, they approached his partner now. He stood fast against the invasion, but his trembling couldn’t be hidden from thorough hands. Dorian unzipped the pocket of his jacket and found his wallet, eyes lighting up in the same way they had before.

“It’s certainly an interesting tactic, bringing your identifying information right into my hands like- oh…” A look was shared, knowing exactly what they’d just discovered. Their eyes darted between the pair. “No wonder you never let me see you side by side.”

“Is it really such a big deal?” Peter scoffed. “I can’t see what you find so surprising.”

“Really now? What do you think, Gordon?” They twisted his ID card between their thumb and index finger. “Gordon Borowski?”

“You’d be surprised at the bond you can form when you investigate with your brother.” “I’ll say. Twin, even. Fraternal, assuming that black hair didn’t come from a box.” No resistance was an affirmative, they supposed. “Well, boys. Let’s not dilly dally any longer. Step into my office.”

[greetings-and-salutations]

“Slightly More Anonymous Than Usual Karate Kids Getting Wasted and Starting Fist Fights”

Robby Keene x Reader Part 4

Day 7 of the 13 Nights of Halloween Spooktacular!!!

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

(Gif not mine)

Requested? No

Summary: (Y/n) really doesn’t want to go to the stupid Halloween Masquerade Ball. But, maybe Moon was right. Maybe she’d finally find her soulmate under the cheap streamers and disco lighting… (a cinderella retelling)

soulmate au: You find your soulmate when you touch for the first time and the date and time you met becomes engraved as a tattoo on your wrist.

Warnings: starred out swear words, violence? that’s it? 🤔😂

Pairing: Robby Keene x Fem!Reader

‘October 31st 11:58pm’

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.

Robby. Robby Keene. Miyagi-Do’s Robby Keene. Hawk’s practical sworn enemy Robby Keene.

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.

(Y/n) didn’t know what to do. She was sure she looked like an idiot, just standing there staring at him. But what was she supposed to do? It wasn’t like she, or anyone else for that matter, had tons upon tons of experience in this specific department.

Robby Keene…

Could this night get any worse?

“Why don’t you come over here and say that to my face, you little b*tch!”

Right…

The sharp pull, which was slowly becoming more familiar to the girl, was what brought (Y/n) out of her thoughts. She was confused again about its origins, but only for a moment before realization struck her like Hawk’s fist slamming into the side of Demetri’s face, which she could practically feel from where she stood.

Robby was gone.

And that was the pull. It was Robby. Robby, and the soulmate bond. Because Robby Keene was her soulmate. (Y/n)’s heart fluttered all on its own at the thought, and, against her better judgment, she allowed herself a moment to appreciate it. Robby was her soulmate. (Y/n) had found her soulmate. And he was… well, (Y/n) didn’t really know. But the universe did. And that was good enough for her. Her Cobra Kai friends, however, might take more convincing…

But, of course, she didn’t need to deal with that right now. No, right now, (Y/n)’s brain had apparently made the executive decision that she needed to, instead, make a break for it. Not that it wasn’t warranted. The whole evening had been an emotional roller coaster. So, fleeing the scene seemed like a fairly acceptable thing to do. And she hoped Robby would see it that way. He seemed pretty preoccupied presently anyways…

“Moon!” (Y/n) ran through the crowd, pushing past shocked partygoers who were watching the madness going down on the dance floor, and mentally cursed at herself. Why had she thought hitching a ride was a good idea instead of making her own way to this thing, knowing full well she wouldn’t have wished to stay as long as her friends did anyways, even if she hadn’t run into such a crisis as she now knew as “Robby Keene.” She honestly just hoped at this point that the other girl would be too preoccupied trying to stop her boyfriend from causing an all out karate brawl in formal attire to think too much about whether or not she should hand over the keys. Because (Y/n) really needed to get out of there…

“(Y/n)! Where’d you go!?! We were worried you got caught up in…” She trailed off, gesturing towards the mess that (Y/n) could vaguely see a familiar jacket in the middle of. Her heart jumped against her will when she caught sight of the boy she was universally destined to be with, and for a moment she contemplated staying to see if he would be alright, but then all the problems that come along with him returned to the forefront of her mind and (Y/n) was forcefully reminded how much she needed to be gone when he finally did come looking for her.

“Moon, I have to get out of here! You have to help me!” (Y/n) knew how frantic she sounded and almost felt sorry for the concern she was probably filling her friend with, but she just didn’t have time to sit around and explain. The fight was still raging, of course, but who knows how much longer it could go on for. And she needed to make her escape while they were all distracted…

“What are you talking about? We’ve gotta stop them!” Moon started dragging (Y/n) along with her, destination clear but, even if it hadn’t been, the return of the pulling sensation (of which (Y/n) had just now decided to describe simply as “Robby”) would have given it away. And that was the opposite of what she wanted…

“No! Moon, please! You have to get me out of here! It’s an emergency!”

Now, Moon didn’t initially look like she believed her, which caused (Y/n)’s heart to drop into her stomach. She hadn’t had time to think of the possible outcome if Robby did catch up with her. What do I say? What do I do? It was almost impossible to imagine the interaction not going horribly wrong in some way, and that only pushed (Y/n) further towards the flight side of her “fight or flight instinct.”

But, thankfully after a moment, which felt painfully more like an hour to the attempted runaway, Moon finally sighed and pulled a set of keys out of her purse.

“They’re to Hawk’s truck.” She explained, holding them out to (Y/n), but quickly pulled them back to finish her thought before the other girl could grab them. “But, you better bring it back to the dojo tomorrow, got it?” (Y/n) nodded eagerly, not caring that that meant making a pit stop at the Cobra infested place the next morning. She’d worry about that later…

“Thanks Moon, you’re a life saver! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

And off (Y/n) ran with the keys, away from the quickly escalating situation behind her, and, of course, the potential boy of her dreams…

+ + +

Robby threw another punch into the fray, but his heart just wasn’t in it. He didn’t even get her name… God, why didn’t I get her name?

The mark on his wrist felt like it was burning but Robby knew that was all just in his head. But, then again, his head was swimming with so many thoughts that he couldn’t quite pinpoint which one precisely to mentally yell at to quiet down in order to stop the phantom pains.

Someone sending a sharp kick to his side brought Robby back to the situation at hand and he glared at the Cobra who he didn’t even recognize. He figured he must be one of Hawk’s though because he knew everyone in Miyagi-Do. Robby sent a kick back, using more force than necessary, though he wasn’t about to admit the reason behind it, figuring it would be childish to say he was mad that this whole endeavor had interrupted his conversation with the girl. His soulmate…

This was so stupid. He shouldn’t be here dealing with this sh*t. He should be with her, getting to know her, falling in love, all that mushy stuff. But no. Robby was more worried about this dumb karate war. What was wrong with him?

“Robby!? Where are you going!?”

But he ignored whoever it was, not even caring enough to look back as he shoved random Cobras out of his way, charging back towards where he’d last seen her. Because he needed to see her… His soulmate…

But the table was empty, and the girl? Nowhere to be found…

Robby’s heart clenched. Where did she go? He looked around frantically, the longer he came up empty handed the more worried he became, as his thoughts ran wild with what he was going to do now. He’d never met her without a mask on. He didn’t know her name, or literally anything about her. How was he going to find her?

And then, Robby caught sight of an all too familiar green dress, and almost sighed in relief. That is, until he realized it was running, so fast you’d think she was being chased, and so far in the opposite direction…

“No! Wait!”

In any other circumstance, Robby definitely would have caught her. While she was running incredibly fast for someone in a floor length poofy dress and heels, Robby’s own dress clothes were much more equipped for the exercise. But the crowd was so big and everyone was pushing him back towards the mess he was trying to get away from, and she just kept getting further and further away.

“Stop! Please!”

But by the time Robby had finally made it through, she was gone again, though this time leaving something behind…

He kneeled down with a frown, picking up the little keychain that seemed to have fallen away from the others in her haste to leave, hope growing in his chest at the thought that maybe this could be a clue to help him find her. But then his blood ran cold as Robby read the words printed across the leather…

COBRA KAI KARATE

Ah, sh*t…

TO BE CONTINUED

Tag lists are open!!!

Tags: @electriclcvewp @kaqua @lolawassad @imaslutforsstuff @nani-2305 @hawkinsavclub1983

[t00thpasteface]

How do you like the mash movie?

I saw the series first, my dad is a fan and we used to watch it together, and was surprised at its more serious tone. Frank Burns also struck me as also a pathetic idiot but in such a different way and also has these evil vibes. Because of you I discovered the books, got them, and im having even more shocks!

i fucking LOVED IT. i was absolutely HOWLING the entire time. my favorite bits were:

the opening where you see the dangling arms of the bodies in the choppers??? oh my god. i was like GASP. the insane blood and gore was awesome and really drove home how petty and wacky everyone's being

hawkeye's stupid tinted glasses and bucket hat <3 sooo 70s.

mulcahy getting immediately ignored the second he's introduced. mulcahy basically acting like a frightened mouse in every scene he has. he is so sad. he's really not cut out for this

frank being introduced as an aggressive bible thumper (very funny contrast to the likeable and shy priest) so him cheating on his wife with margaret, who is also married, is even funnier

radar(!!) being the one who puts the mic under frank and margaret's bed

mulcahy hearing them bang, leaning in bc he thinks it's a radio program he enjoys, and going D: when he Realizes

suicide is painless. holy shit. did you know a 14 y/o wrote the lyrics? his dad said "i needed the lyrics to be extremely stupid, and 14 year old boys are masters of stupidity." mom just learned that and has been telling all her 50-60 y/o friends. also both versions in the movie are sung beautifully (and thus hilariously)

the unbelievable fruitiness of hawkeye and trapper at all points but especially in the golf related scenes

trapper spawning the olives out of nowhere. player.placeatme olivejar 1

bring me the sultry bitch with the fire in her eyes! (dramatic zoom)

RADAR STEALING HENRY'S BLOOD??

hawkeye's entire interaction with painless just SCREAMING "chaotic bisexual who's been out the longest of anyone in the friendgroup and will forcefully yank you out of the closet the second you start questioning"

racists do not get dignified with a response. racists get shoved out of their chair

DON'T LET HIM KISS YOU HAWKEYE!

frank getting carted away in a straitjacket and never seen again

margaret hating the idea of football until the general wants it and suddenly she's a cheerleader with pigtails bc she's completely spineless. god she's so evil in this i LOVE horrible evil women. full agency at being the worst person ever <333 i support women's wrongs and i love watching chicks who are just slow-motion car crashes

"i was thinking we should have some plays, cause yknow, football teams always have plays" "actually i took the liberty of drawing about seven or eight plays for us to try ^_^" "great! ...what do these arrows mean?"

MASH EM! SMASH EM! KILL, KILL, KILL!

OH MY GOD THEY SHOT HIM!!!

hawkeye suddenly not wanting to leave once he's actually able to 🥺

end credits being read over the loudspeaker like the other movie night announcements. so. cute.

okay sorry. good movie. i had fun and cried laughing ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

[wlw-stanbot]

Yelena opened her eyes as soon as footsteps entered the room again. The edges of her vision blurred with drugs and alcohol and pain, but Kate’s face clarified as it came closer. She focused in on the bright blue eyes framed by errant strands of curly black hair that fell forward as she leaned over. Her eyes flicked down just slightly to the lush pink lips that had been on hers just a few minutes ago and couldn’t help but smile with the memory of it.

Kate Bishop. Kate. Her little hawk. No. Stop it. You sound like a love struck fool from a stupid American movie.

Yelena wrenched her eyes away but Kate still stood there. With a quick side glance she realized that the hovering woman was trying to hand her something.

“Are you in too much pain to eat? You should try to anyway. You won’t heal without food.” Kate was holding a plate with wonderful smelling triangles on it and a steaming mug.

Pizza. Right. That’s where she went. Yelena started to realize her blood loss may have been worse than she anticipated. She avoided looking down at her abdomen, which was still wholly exposed except for the loose pile of gauze covering her wound, reaching for the plate and mug instead.

“Thank you, Kate. You’re sweet like…marshmallows,” Yelena looked into the mug of chocolate, expecting to see the usual topping she had just mentioned, but the fluffy little pillows were nowhere to be found. She frowned into the dark brown liquid.

Kate grimaced, “Yeah, sorry. I ate the rest of the bag a few hours ago. Well, technically it was the second bag. I finished the one we opened before you left a few days ago. They’re just so easy to eat, you know. Like little pillows of sweet and sticky - ”

Yelena watched Kate dive fully into one of her typical rambles, her mind and eyes drifting back to the mouth as it was talking. She grabbed a slice of pizza and shoved it into her mouth to stop herself from thinking about the ways she wanted to interrupt the rapidly moving lips.

Fuck…chew your damn pizza and don’t look up again.

“...you know what I mean?"

Yelena’s resolve faltered immediately. She looked into Kate’s expectant face, having no idea what words it had just been producing. She stared blankly, trying to remember…something about marshmallows?

“You aren’t listening,” Kate narrowed her eyes then just as quickly softened,” - sorry, of course…I’m rambling. You’re probably too tired to pay attention. It’s ok. I’ll uh, go, just let me know when you’re done and - “

Yelena felt herself sitting up slightly and speaking more forcefully than she truly had the energy for, “No, don’t go. Please.”

New chapter is up, a little fluffy, a lot of emotions.

[delusionalwings]

Congrats! May I please ask for prompt 5 with yan Asmo please

thank you so much! hope you have a lovely day/night ^^

Prompt - "I can't stop thinking about you. Now that I have you here with me, I am never letting go."

yandere Asmodeus x gender neutral reader

[ prompt list + event masterlist ]

Asmodeus was not one to settle down. Why should he when he could have anyone in the three realms? Everytime his heart fluttered because of someone, a new person would appear who craved his attention, who needed him and he would be like a moth attracted to a brand new flame. Little did he know that in time, he would find someone whom he needed.

You were so naive when you first made your appearance in the Devildom. Through bored lashes but with a charming smile, he looked at you and wondered how long you would last in the wilderness.

With time, when he realised how shrouded in mystery you were, he got hooked on you as if you were the answer to his search for eternal youth. As more time passed, his heart started dancing in a different way to your tune. You were kind, charming, caring but above all, you saw through Asmo and you were not repulsed by the real him. He felt stripped naked in front of you, but he didn't feel the urge to take charge. He could trust his being in your hands and be pleased himself, without always trying to entertain you.

Let him be here in your presence for a little while. Just a little while longer.

But no matter how long he spent in your company, it was never enough. He hated that he could not have you with him all the time.

Why did the world exist anyway? To separate you from him? And why did you have to leave? Why would you not look back at him? Why won't you belong to him when he was ready to surrender himself to you? He didn't realise that he had been unjust to others in a similiar manner by being with everyone without favouring one above the rest. What did that matter anyway?

All that mattered to Asmo surrounded you.

You.

It happened very innocently. In his gloom, he didn't notice when he had strayed from his path and ended up in a stranded warehouse. When he looked around, he wasn't disgusted by the hideous place, rather he thought it quiet and peaceful. What he would not give to be there with you, far away from prying eyes!

A brilliant idea struck him. He could be there with you.

"Oh sweetheart, there you are," Asmo chirped when he saw you exiting RAD alone. "I found an amazing place I wanna show you. Would you come with me?"

When you smiled sweetly and looked at him with a twinkle in your eyes, he felt like kissing your lips tenderly. That must wait for later.

"Oh [Name], you are such a cutie! Hehe."

You followed him without suspicion. The eeriness increased with every step you took, but when you found the courage to voice your worry, Asmo requested to cover your eyes to surprise you.

To trust him was all he asked. It was Asmo so trusting him was all you did.

Once you entered the warehouse under his guidance, a cry resounded. Sadly, it was your own.

Cold chains held you to the spot as the blindfold was taken off. Asmo looked at you with a disturbing expression, his lips curled up in a deranged smile.

For the first time, you felt afraid in his presence. You tried in vain to free yourself.

"Asmo, ASMO! What the hell? Is this a joke? Let me go... LET ME GO! I am scared. Please. P-Please..."

Gathering your scared self in his arms, he put his head against your chest to hear your heartbeat and exhaled sharply. Oh what melody!

"Finally, finally! We are alone. We will always be alone from now on! I can't stop thinking about you. Now that I have you here with me, I am never letting go."

Asmo had believed that he was not one to settle, but now he was comfortably settled in your arms. He had found his place in life. A place he had forcefully barged in, but still the place of his dreams.

[dumdumsun]

To Nightfall

A/N: And finally, Chapter 20!! Thank you to everyone who has given this series your love and support. It honestly means everything in the world to me that you guys read and enjoy it. This series is like my first-born child and I have a very deep connection with it. The writing process for this third installment was so fun and satisfying; this was probably some of the most fun I've had writing this series. I have no idea what the final season has in store for us, but I just hope it's a happy ending so I don't have to worry too much about Five and Reader. But until then, I hope you enjoy the final chapter of To Nightfall! Thank you all so much, happy new year and much love to you beautiful people ❤️❤️

Warnings: character death, violence, blood, mentions of death/dying

Word Count: 6640

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Chapter 20: Que Será, Será

The lights within the practically turned-over laundry room sparked as the guardian stood from the ground and dragged its katana back to its side. Surrounding it were about ten of (Y/N)’s clones, all lifelessly scattered around the floor. On the other side of the room, behind the dryers, was Sloane, (Y/N), Five and Ben, all taking cover. All of them sported some kind of face wound, except for Ben.

“You, (Y/N) and countless of her clones have hit him with your axes countless times. He should be dead by now.” Ben glared at them, as if they were the issue.

“It’s the armor,” Five informed. “It’s hitting like cement.”

“There’s a space,” Sloane explained. “Between the backplates.”

(Y/N) elevated herself a bit to look over the dryer, her ax still clutched in her hands. “We need to get behind him.”

“Let’s kill this thing.” She nodded and stood to her feet.

“Sloane, wait-”

“Hey, asshole!”

Before they could stop her, she ran out of cover. Five grabbed (Y/N) and blinked away as Sloane ran up on the wall. The guardian turned to her and, like it was nothing, flung a knife towards her. She cried out in pain when her exposed waist was slashed, resulting in her crashing to the ground. The guardian roared and marched up to her.

Just as it was about to attack her, Five’s whoosh sounded from behind it. Hearing the whoosh, the guardian turned and struck Five across the face, sending him to the ground. (Y/N) gasped and dodged the swing of its katana, running to stand behind it. However, she wasn’t fast enough and ended up being forcefully kicked to the other side of the room. She screamed out in pain when her back and head came into contact with the wall, the girl nearly knocked out cold when she hit the washer below her, then the ground.

She painfully lifted her head to meet the end of a katana, her demise staring her right in the face. Her heart rate increased as she tried to move quickly, but every part of her body ached too much to move. She whimpered as the guardian lifted its weapon high in the air.

Its attention was taken off of her when several tentacles wrapped around its body. The three turned their heads to see that Ben had emerged from cover and was using his power to hold the guardian back. He yelled with the strain put on him as the guardian struggled against the tentacles. His yells turned into cries of pain when the guardian ripped itself free, tearing apart the tentacles. As soon as they were injured, they retreated back into Ben’s body for recovery. He glared up at the guardian as it turned its back to the three, rushing up to Ben with his katana at the ready.

Opponent right where she wanted it, (Y/N) forced herself to her feet with a grunt and a groan. She scooped her ax into her hands and ran up on the guardian, swinging down and hitting it in its weak spot in its back. It abruptly dropped its weapon and fell to its knees, face-planting into the ground with the ax sticking out from its back.

Safe for the moment, the four exchanged looks of relief. (Y/N) let a smile twitch onto her face as she and Ben shared a nod. Perhaps Luther and Klaus were right. Perhaps there was a bit of the old Ben in him. Somewhere.

On the fourth floor, Viktor sped through the halls in search of anyone. “Five? Allison? (Y/N)?”

As he passed by a closet, he heard a very faint ring resonating from inside, but his adrenaline was too high for him to worry about it. That was, until the door was busted down. Spinning around, he was met with Lila, who stepped out of the closet looking disheveled and very pissed.

“Finally. Someone with a power worth mimicking.”

“Lila? Why were you in a closet?”

She exhaled and went to answer, but she caught sight of a guardian down the hall. “I’ll explain later.”

At the sound of a snarl, Viktor turned to be met with the ax-wielding guardian twirling its weapon through the air. “Shit…” He sighed out. “I’m tired of running.”

“Me, too.”

They shared a look before they both rolled their shoulders back and clenched their hands into fists, Viktor summoning his energy and Lila mimicking it. Unfazed, the guardian charged for them. They stared it down as they strengthened their power.

“This feels oddly familiar.” Lila referred to the war they fought against each other in 1963.

“At least this time, we’re not aiming at each other.”

They glanced at each other before turning back to the guardian and releasing their power, blasting it back. It flew down the hall and smacked into the floor with a loud thud, its chest sizzling with the gaping hole left in it. Lila chuckled and cocked her head in the opposite direction.

“Let’s go.”

In the lobby, the quartet had entered, unknowingly joining their family. (Y/N) felt her heart flutter when she saw Klaus being helped to his feet by Viktor and Allison, groaning in pain as he held his head. “Klaus!” She cried out, running up to her brother and tightly wrapping her arms around his middle. “Oh, my god! I’m so glad you’re okay!”

Klaus groaned and leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “It’s good to see you, too, sister dear.”

Viktor stepped back from Klaus to assess Five and (Y/N). “You guys look like hell.”

“You try fighting a guardian.” Five tiredly mumbled.

“We just did.”

“So did we.” Ben added.

“Klaus, I thought you were dead.” Sloane awed. Klaus nodded and waved everyone off as (Y/N) pulled away from him.

“Yes, yes, I’m alive and amazing, despite Dad’s attempts to bash my brains in, but tearful reunions later. What you guys need to know right now is that… Dad killed Luther. And he locked me out of the tunnel, and he rang that stupid bell!”

Noticing Reginald walking about the front of the lobby, (Y/N) rushed up towards him with her family following behind. “What the hell are you planning here?!”

“We don’t have time for this, my child.”

“You killed Luther!” Sloane screeched, holding her bleeding side.

“I had no choice. You refused to come together as a team.”

Ben growled and shook his head. “All of your stupid myths and stories. There were never seven bells or Norsemen. (Y/N) was right, you didn’t bring us here to save anything. You brought us here to die!”

“That’s not so.” Reginald dismissed. “Somewhere in this hotel is the key to resetting the universe. We just need to find the sigil!”

“I don’t care about your sigil!” Sloane hissed. “None of us do!”

“Yeah, we barely survived that guardian with his stupid helmet and his sickle!” Diego roared.

As everyone continued to scream at Reginald, Five’s eyes began tracing a familiar shape on the floor. To get a better view, he ran up the staircase to look from the bannister.

“The guardian we killed had an ax.” Viktor frowned in confusion. (Y/N) turned to him with the same expression.

“I killed one with a sword.” 

Diego and Lila looked to each other and spoke in unison, “There’s one left.”

From the bannister, Five’s gaze trailed over the stars marked on the floor below everyone’s feet. The pattern they made was one he swore he saw countless times. The one on the tattoo he cut out of his older self, the one from Pogo’s book, the one on the pachinko machine at the Hotel Obsidian, the one Reginald had shown them in his journal. The sigil.

“Hey!” He shouted down at them. “I found the sigil! It’s on the-”

From the ceiling, glass shattered, the final guardian falling through. It threw the sickle-end of its chain towards Five and struck him in his arm. He screamed as a white-hot pain surged through his body, the boy falling to the floor.

“Five!!!” (Y/N) hollered and bolted up the stairs without a second thought. When she reached his side, she quickly sat him up and leaned him against the bannister. “Oh, god, Five! A-Are you-”

A strangled gasp left her lips at the blood spitting out of where Five’s arm should have been. Snapping her head to the side, her eyes widened at the sight of his arm lying on the ground a couple feet away from them.

Below them, the guardian landed in the lobby. It wasted no time in swinging its sickle into Klaus’s stomach, leaving a deep gash. It then tossed one of its explosives, blasting back some of them. The mace-end of its chain was thrown and sent into Ben’s abdomen. They were losing. They were all losing.

Meanwhile, (Y/N) was still composing herself as Five gasped and held the stub of his arm, blood spurting out from it. Thinking quickly, she ripped off the elastic waist of her harness. “Okay, okay.” She rushed in a panicked tone. “I got you, I got you.”

In the lobby, Diego had managed to land a few hits to the guardian, but they were deemed useless when the guardian simply swiped its sickle down and sent Diego to the floor in a heap. The only one left standing was Sloane.

The guardian snarled and stepped closer to her. She immediately held her hand up and used her power to halt it, but since she was already severely injured, she wouldn’t be able to hold it for long. She whimpered and strained until her power gave out. Just as the guardian went to attack, it was stopped.

It was stopped by Luther.

“Nobody hurts my wife, you son of a bitch.”

The guardian turned its head to face its smirking opponent, who had appeared behind it and was holding it by the sides. Luther let out a grunt before lifting the guardian and tossing it back, the armor-clad monster flying back and crashing to the ground. Luther didn’t even look at it, his focus on his teary-eyed wife. The two smiled before he approached her and gently pulled her into a hug. Sloane couldn’t find the words she wanted to say to him, rendered speechless by his sudden appearance. Despite the slightly-healed slash through his chest, he still looked exactly like the man she married one night ago. He was still her Luther.

He glared up at Reginald, who was staring in astonishment, yet disapproval. “All those years I stayed loyal to you. You wasted my life on the moon, and for what? To use me on this stupid mission?”

“You did have a purpose.” Reginald gravely responded. “I left you to guard the most precious thing in the universe.”

“And what was it?”

“You’ll soon understand. You all will.”

Having enough of his half-answers, Luther pulled back to lovingly peer down at his wife, cradling her face in his hand. Sure, she was battered and bruised, but she still managed to be the most beautiful creature he ever laid eyes upon.

Their gazes shifted to his hand when neither could feel the other’s touch anymore. Luther’s hand was fading, becoming transparent. He quickly turned to Klaus, who was splayed on the floor with his hand held out towards his brother, the blue hue surrounding his hand withering and dying out. “Klaus…”

He rasped as his other hand weakly pressed into his stomach wound. “I can’t… hold it.”

Not wanting to waste another second, he turned back to Sloane with a gentle, adoring look in his eyes. “I will love you forever. Okay?” He whispered, Sloane wobbly smiling and nodding in answer. The tighter she held him, the faster he seemed to disappear until she was left holding the empty air before her. Once again, the love of her life was taken from her. She was just thankful she could say goodbye this time. Though, as Allison and (Y/N) had warned, it still wasn’t enough.

And with one final breath, the blue of Klaus’s hand diminished as his body went limp.

From the bannister, Five let out a loud groan as (Y/N) tightly fastened the elastic strip near the end of his stub, the bleeding slowing to a stop. He would have kissed her and thanked her endlessly had they been in very different circumstances, but now was not the time. The both of them leaned against the bannister to look down at their family spread out in the lobby, their stomachs twisting when they noticed the final guardian gaining its strength and rising back to its feet.

“The sigil is in the lobby floor!” Five shouted down at them. “It’s the stars!”

“Children!” Reginald immediately called out. “Find a star on the sigil! Stand on it!”

As if on cue, Klaus sucked in a deep gasp and sat up straight from the floor with a groan, gently holding himself as he shivered vigorously. He had reanimated, and not only that, but his wound was completely healed.

“Ben, now’s your time, boy! Quickly!” Reginald shouted. Ben hesitated, but slowly stood from the floor as Sloane absently stepped to the side, stepping on the star beside her and causing the panel to click.

“Seven points, seven of us?” Viktor stumbled around in confusion. “We’re the bells?” He and Lila stepped on two other stars, the panels clicking and lighting up just as Sloane’s did. Right as Allison went to stand on a star, Reginald called out to her.

“No. Not you.”

Klaus staggered to another star and stood on it as the guardian straightened itself and situated its mask back onto its pore-cluttered face with a monstrous growl. “Hurry!” Reginald urged as Five reached the end of the stairs with his wife assisting him. “It’s the only way to stop him!”

Ben and Diego stepped on two more stars, leaving the last one dead in the middle. Allison, (Y/N) and Five stared at it before they locked eyes on each other. Awaiting the next move.

“Number Five, quickly!”

(Y/N) widened her eyes at Reginald. He wanted Five to go. Why did he want Five to go? Why not her? Why not Allison? It would make sense that Allison would be exempt from any danger considering they made a deal. Her heart hammered faster in her chest at the possibility of this being a sacrifice. She looked in the other direction to see the guardian swinging the mace-end of its chain menacingly. It was now or never.

The guardian let out a roar as she launched herself off the stairs and darted for the star. Before she could reach it, though, Five had blinked and appeared on the star. She fell to the ground at his feet and stared up at him in horror. His panel lit up and clicked before a beam of light cast down on each of the seven. A bright light glowed in their chests before a lightning-like energy blasted out of them and connected in the center to Five’s body. He cried out in pain as another string of energy shot out from their combined power and struck the guardian in its chest.

The monster dropped its weapons and shook uncontrollably until it fell to the floor, lifeless. An innumerable amount of cockroaches fled from out of the armor, causing the body to deflate into nothing.

The seven were released from the lightning-energy as (Y/N) stood to her feet slowly and stared at Five in alarm. He stared back at her and moved his mouth to speak, but instead of words, a strained gasp left his lips as his limbs locked and he threw his head back.

“Five?!” She gaped. Looking around, she realized that the other six were in the same state as him, indisposed by the beams that had them in their grip. Her eyes moved all around when she noticed every single inch of their surroundings crumbling and melting away until they stood in a bright yellow outline of what once was the Hotel Oblivion. “What’s happening…?”

Reginald walked around the seven and to the now empty front desk that rotated in a straight angle and came to a complete stop. He stepped through the opening of the desk as a hologram lifted from it, indescribable codes glowing and shifting around the screen-like surface as he used his hands to move them around.

(Y/N) watched in horror as the color drained from her family’s faces. This scene was all too familiar. She remembered the night of Viktor’s concert when he had nearly killed them all, when he had nearly killed her. She remembered her brothers and husband having the lives drained from them with their faces sinking in and their bones straining against their skin. If it was possible at all, and it proved itself to be, they seemed worse off now. Because whatever was killing them now was showing no sign of stopping. And she could do nothing to stop it.

“This wasn’t part of the deal.” Allison hurriedly walked up to Reginald. “You’re hurting them.”

“I can’t stop now.” He replied, sparing her a glance. “It’d shut down the machine.”

“What machine? I don’t understand.”

“The hotel was just a facade. We’re stuck inside a machine in another dimension. Whoever created the universe built this place.”

(Y/N) whirled on him. “What are you doing to them?!”

The beams shone brighter and the seven screamed louder.

“What are you doing?!”

“The particles inside their bodies are the only things that fuel the machine.” He explained as the same particles ejected from Harlan were being extracted from them. (Y/N) realized then that those were their lifesource, what they were made of, what fueled their powers. They weren’t entirely of this world, but of another somewhere she may never find.

Five moved his eyes to her, the only part of his body he was able to control. “You have to stop him.” He choked out. “He killed Luther. He tried to kill Klaus. He won’t stop until we’re all dead.”

And she wanted to, she swore she did, but when the volume of their cries increased along with the brightness of the beams, her need to help them spread further in her heart. Without thinking, she reached her hands out to grab hold of Five’s arm, but as soon as her hands made contact with the beam, an unbelievably striking pain shot through her body. She wailed in pain and drew her hands to her chest. She stared down at her quaking hands to see that the color had faded from them.

Allison gasped and turned back to Reginald. “You need to stop.”

“I’m almost done. And when I am, you and I will get what we came here for.”

“No, you are killing them!!!”

“Everything in life has a price.”

She glanced at her dying family one last time before whipping her head to Reginald.

“Stop!!!” She screamed, her eyes glowing that bright orange once again. Unfortunately, the hologram surrounding Reginald also acted as a forcefield, which blocked out her power, rendering her harmless.

(Y/N) was sick of it. She was sick of Reginald’s lies, his deception, his constant betrayal towards anyone in his path and the countless half-truths he spewed towards them. He cost too many people their lives. He killed Luther, he tortured her and her siblings throughout their childhood and when they tried to escape the abuse, he pulled them right back in. (Y/N) remembered that night the breaking news of his death was broadcasted on every news channel around the world. A heavy weight had lifted itself from her shoulders and for a second, she actually felt free. She would do anything to feel that again.

Anything.

The moment she spotted the sickle on the ground, she dropped to the floor and clutched it in her hands. She locked eyes with Allison, who simply nodded at her. It was the perfect opportunity, with Reginald turned away from her and completely engrossed in his work. She could end it all. She could save them all.

“This is for (Y/N).”

The girl lifted the sickle and slashed Reginald in the side of the face with it. His hands drew away from the hologram, causing the beams of light to vanish, releasing the seven. They all fell to the ground with coughs and groans. (Y/N)’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as she and Allison fearfully backed away from Reginald.

Half of his face was now gone, the inside of his head anything but humane, a green substance oozing from his head rather than blood. He crashed to the ground in a lifeless heap, his otherworldly blood dripping down the other side of his face. He wasn’t human. He never was.

Figures.

Without another thought towards him, (Y/N) dropped the sickle and rushed over to Five, wrapping her arms around him and lifting him into her lap. “Five? Five, look at me. Look at me. I’m here… I’m here.”

Five coughed and weakly held her hand in his. It was deathly cold and almost limp, but she kissed it all the same. She pressed his palm against her cheek in hopes of warming it and he smiled tiredly at the sentiment. With slight difficulty, he turned his head to the side, eyes widening. “Allison…”

She looked up to see her sister standing before the hologram, her hand hovering over a glowing red button on the screen. “Allison! Stop! We don’t know what that does!”

“Allison, stop!”

Allison turned her head away to look at Viktor, who shakily got to his feet and glowed a dim blue, his power sputtering a bit. “Don’t make me do this!”

“Do you trust me?” She whispered.

He paused for a moment because, ultimately, he did trust her. As foolish as it was, he knew that after everything, Allison’s intent for her family was good. She wasn’t behind Luther’s death, she didn’t want Klaus to die. Whatever deal she made with Reginald would save them. And he believed that wholeheartedly. That was why he let his power deactivate.

“Viktor, what are you doing?” Five frowned. “Stop her!”

Allison smiled at Five with misty eyes. “You don’t need to worry about (Y/N) anymore, Five.” She sweetly whispered with genuine care in her tone. “She’ll be okay soon.”

(Y/N)’s face morphed into terror.

“She’s gonna be happy.”

Everything about that did not sit right with her at all. (Y/N) inhaled deeply and carefully stood to her feet, her hands letting go of Five. “(Y/N)? (Y/N), what are you doing?”

“I’m stopping her.”

The girl jumped over Five’s body and bolted towards her sister. Allison sniffled and smiled wider at her before turning back towards the button.

“Allison!”

Her hand reached up.

“Wait! Allison, don’t!!!”

Her hand neared the button.

“No!”

Allison pressed the button.

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

The night was dark and stormy when the cab pulled up to an extravagant home settled in Beverly Hills, California. Thunder rumbled as Allison climbed out and shut the door behind her. She stared up at the house she hadn’t been to in so long. This time was going to be different.

Allison reached under the potted plant on the porch and picked up the spare house key, just where she knew it would be. She unlocked the front door and took little time to observe the interior as she made her way through the lounge room and up the winding staircase. The door to Claire’s bedroom was open, as she knew it would be. Allison stood in the threshold of the door, her heart warming and picking up pace as she smiled at the little lump on the bed, turned away from her, wearing a silk scarf for her hair. She gasped and choked on a sob as she moved towards the bed.

Exhaling, Allison sat on the edge with a wobbling smile, gently placing a hand on the child’s leg. “Claire…” She whispered.

The little girl turned, the beautiful face Allison had been yearning to see smiling tiredly at her. “What’s wrong, Mama?”

Allison joyfully laughed and brought her daughter into a tight hug. “Nothing, baby.” She sniffled. “Oh, I’m just so happy to be home.”

A lifetime without this moment felt like eternity for Allison. Her constant fighting and tears and bloodshed felt all-for-naught up until now. Now that her beautiful Claire was in her arms once again, her heart felt whole again. She didn’t think she could be any happier.

“It’s where you were always meant to be.”

Her eyes snapped open at Ray’s voice. Slowly, she turned to meet her husband, the same age as she left him in 1963, smiling fondly at her. “Hey, baby.”

She tilted her head with a grin, her entire chest warming with the growth of her heart. Ray’s smile widened before he nodded to Claire. Allison looked back to her daughter and took her smiling face into her hands, thumbs caressing the apples of her cheeks and her lips pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. Everything she wanted was right here, in the home she had missed so dearly.

She hoped (Y/N) was just as happy where she was.

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

The ding of the elevator sounded before the doors slid open. It revealed five pathways that all met in the center of the outside memorial, where a stone platform stood. Viktor stepped out first, followed by Five, then Diego, then Lila, then Ben, and then Klaus. The six slowly walked about the greenery around them that stood between each pathway as some sort of decoration.

“Cool.” Lila laughed. Five walked up to the stone platform to see that it held a statue of Reginald’s head. He looked down at the plaque engraved in the stone.

OBSIDIAN MEMORIAL PARK

Graciously Donated By

SIR REGINALD HARGREEVES

The 1st Day of October 1989

Another timeline with Reginald Hargreeves.

Viktor turned his head back to the elevator when he noticed someone else step out of it, a bright smile stretching across his face. “Luther?”

Luther looked around at them with wide eyes and a hopeful smile as his brother approached him. “Oh, shit. You can see me?!”

“Yes!”

“I’m alive?!”

“Yes!”

“I’m alive!” He cheered as Viktor threw himself into his arms, Luther catching him and holding him tight.

“Luther’s alive!” Klaus cheered as well.

“Oh, my god!” Lila grinned.

Now back on his feet, Viktor took a look at his brother and gaped in amazement. “Wait. That’s not all, big guy.”

“Huh?”

Luther looked down at his body and realized that his abnormally large muscles and beastly body hair was gone. Once again, he was back to his normal size. His size before Reginald had injected him with that serum. “Whoa! Oh, shit! My body! Wait.” He marveled at his figure as Klaus joined his side. “I look amazing.”

“Luther’s all svelte now.”

“Wait. I gotta show Sloane!”

Five lifted his arm and then froze when he realized he lifted his arm. “I got my arm back…”

“This is so cool. W-Wait… Where’s Sloane?”

Klaus blinked a few times. “Oh, she was, uh… She was right behind me-”

“When Allison hit the button.” Lila reminded.

“She’s gone, too.” Diego pointed out.

Five’s heart sank to his stomach when he didn’t spot his love anywhere. He twisted his body every which way in hopes that she would emerge from a corner or step out of the elevator. “(Y/N)’s gone, too… Has anyone seen (Y/N)?!”

“Last I saw her-”

“She was trying to stop Allison.”

“Would they be in the same place?”

He held his head in his hands as his siblings’ voices overlapped. He tried to wrap his head around it all. They were in a different timeline. They were standing in the hotel. Well, where the hotel used to be. Reginald had done it. He reset the universe.

“You got your fingers back!” Lila gasped and held Diego’s hand, the man grinning in relief.

“Sloane? Sloane!” Luther called out before marching up to Five and fisting the front of his suit jacket. “Hey, I don’t care about your resets, alright? I want my wife back. Where is she, Five?”

Five lifted his head. “I’m glad you’re alive, but take your hand off me.”

“Not until you give me an answer.”

“My wife is missing, too, Luther, and I would like to get to the bottom of it if you would let me go.” He jerked his body forward, but nothing happened. He was still in the same spot. He didn’t jump. “Something’s wrong…”

“That’s right. You’re about to get your ass kicked.”

“Yeah, kick his ass.” Diego excitedly grinned.

“No, you moron. My power.” Five frowned at Luther. “I can’t blink.”

At once, everyone tested out their power. Luther clenched his fists, but they didn’t squeeze nearly as tight as they used to.

Diego twirled his knife in his hand, but it slipped from his fingers and clattered to the ground.

Klaus held his inkless palm out to summon a spirit, but nothing happened.

Ben shut his eyes and braced his core for his tentacles, but nothing within him moved.

Viktor tried to summon his energy, but his hearing was no longer advanced enough to listen to the sounds around him.

“This means I’m mortal again?” Klaus whined. “Awe, man!”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Ben shook his head. “How do we get ‘em back, you idiots?”

No one answered, because no one had a single clue as to what they just got themselves into. Luther began to back away. “I gotta… I gotta go find my wife.”

Klaus gasped and turned to Luther as he ran down one of the pathways. “No! Luther, you can’t go. You were dead five minutes ago. You’re fragile!” He turned back to his family. “I gotta go after him.”

“No. Wa- Klaus, wait!” Diego called as Klaus followed after Luther.

“I’m out, bitches.” Ben hissed and strode down another pathway.

“Guys, come on!” Viktor called out. “We should stick together and figure this out-”

“Well, what are we supposed to do?” Diego questioned. Lila looked up at him with raised brows.

“Live our lives?”

The two clasped hands and shared a hopeful nod before heading down another pathway. This left Five and Viktor to stare at each other in disbelief. Just like that, the family was once again separated. Five couldn’t entirely blame them, but a part of him felt betrayed by his siblings.

He couldn’t think about that right now, though. Because he had his own agenda. He needed to find (Y/N).

Without a word, Five turned and exited down another pathway. Viktor’s shoulders slumped as he watched him go. He had no idea what this new timeline had in store for him, for his family. Was there another apocalypse to come? Could they finally live in peace as they so desired? He didn’t know. All he knew was that everything they had gone through, every hardship within their lives, had started and ended with Reginald Hargreeves.

“Asshole.” He spat at the statue before heading down the last pathway, leading him into a world run by the very man he thought he defeated.

None of them knew it yet, but the water they stepped into was deeper than they ever anticipated. None of them knew it yet, but they had just set out their new lives…

In a Reginald Hargreeves dystopia.

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

As soon as (Y/N) creaked her eyes open, she shut them tight against the glaring sunlight that seeped through her blinds. She groaned and lifted her head, gingerly rubbing her temples to soothe the aching. She did it again. She stayed up too late. She couldn’t keep doing this, but the deadline for her drafts was approaching quicker than she thought.

Wait.

Her drafts?

She blinked and frowned down at the typewriter before her, a half-finished chapter typed out on the paper. She vaguely remembered working on this chapter what felt like a lifetime ago. Before the news report, before the funeral.

A tiny bark had her head snapping over to the left, where she saw a small golden retriever bounding up to her and pawing at her pajama pants. Her heart fluttered. “Mr Pennycrumb…?”

The puppy happily yapped and pawed at her calves. With a joyful laugh, she gently picked him up and scratched behind his ear just like she knew he liked, giggling giddily as he licked at her face. “Oh, my baby! I’ve missed you! Yes, I missed you, baby!”

Mr Pennycrumb wiggled and jumped off her knees, landing on the floor and skittering out of the slightly ajar door. (Y/N) shook her head and blinked rapidly as she looked around. She was in her old bedroom. The bedroom she used to share with Anthony. The bedroom she never thought she would return to.

“What the hell?”

She stood and headed over to the door, but froze when she passed by her mirror. Slowly, she backpedaled until she was staring at herself. Immediately, her hands flew to her chest and she gaped at her body. She nearly jumped for joy at the sight of her adult self staring right back at her. No longer was she in that prepubescent body. Yes, she felt a bit less energized now that she was older once again, but she preferred this much more than what she was forced into for so long.

(Y/N) gasped and reached her hands up to run over her now scarless face. Those dreadful lines that interrupted her features and reminded her of such a terrifying time in her life, were gone. She could feel tears building up in her eyes at her relief. When she blinked them away, she noticed that her hands were back to their original skin color. It was like she was completely reset. Did this mean Five was back to normal?

“Oh, god… Five!” She ran to her bedroom door and flung it open. “Five!”

She choked on her words at the two heads that perked up at her voice, distracted from their morning cartoons. She nearly fell into the wall as tears she didn’t even feel building up this time started to spill down her face.

“Mama!”

“Good morning, Mama!”

(Y/N) sobbed and ran to the couch with open arms. “My babies!”

Jada stood on the couch and jumped into her mother’s arms, wrapping her little legs around her waist as (Y/N) crushed her daughter against her. “Jada! Oh, my sweet baby girl!” She pulled away to press kiss after kiss to her soft cheeks, the girl’s heavenly giggles causing more tears to escape. “Oh, my god… Oh, my god… I missed you, babyface. I missed you so much!”

Jada gave her mother a kiss on the cheek before she was gently set back down on the couch. (Y/N) picked up Michael and gave him the same treatment, which surprised him, since he was told that he was getting too heavy for her to hold.

“Mama’s baby boy! My beautiful baby boy! I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry I was gone! Mama’s never leaving you again, you hear me? Never. Never ever!”

“No more business trips?”

“No more business trips.” She peppered kisses on his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his lips.

“Mama! Gross! Stop!” He laughed and wiggled out of her grip until he landed on his feet.

(Y/N) kneeled before her babies and brought them into a tight hug. “I’m so happy I’m home…”

“I’m happy you are, too.”

She let go of the children and turned to see her mother exiting the kitchen with a soft smile, her signature purple slippers on her feet. “You’ve been working yourself to death lately.”

“Mom…?”

“I made breakfast. It’s still warm, so I suggest you get it now-” She stopped when (Y/N) threw her arms around her and hugged her tight. Furrowing her brows, she slowly hugged back. “Um… Alright. Good morning to you, too, honey.”

“I can’t believe this is happening.” (Y/N) sobbed. “This is- Oh, god- This is-”

“Hey, hey. Breathe, (Y/N).” She pulled away and wiped her daughter’s tears away. “Wow… You really need to work out a sleep schedule. Here, why don’t you have some coffee?”

That was when (Y/N) remembered. “Oh! Where’s Five?”

“Who?”

She blinked. “Five. My husband. I-I introduced him to you.”

“Honey, what? Are you talking about Anthony?”

The front door to the house opened, (Y/N)’s face dropping at the man who stepped inside.

“Dad!”

“Daddy’s home!”

Michael and Jada ran up and hugged Anthony, who was alive and well. He was dressed in business casual attire and his goatee was freshly trimmed. He set his briefcase down and picked up Jada, gently kissing her cheek. “Ya miss me?”

“No more business trips for you, either, Daddy!”

“Yeah, you and Mama have to stay here with us and Grandma from now on!”

Anthony softly laughed and shut the door behind him, plopping Jada back onto the couch and ruffling Michael’s hair. “I’ll think about it, alright? Morning, Mom.”

“Welcome back home, Anthony.” (Y/N)’s mother hugged the man and kissed his cheek. “How was your trip? You’re just in time for breakfast.”

“Smells great. I’ll tell you all about it.” He gently smiled at her before pulling away and turning to (Y/N), his smile melting into a more tender one as he walked up to her. “Hey, baby…”

(Y/N) couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. This wasn’t possible, it couldn’t be. Anthony was dead. She had to see his body for the autopsy. She had to put his funeral together. He couldn’t be here.

But then again, Mr Pennycrumb was from the sixties.

When Anthony brought her into a kiss, she closed her eyes for only a moment, she only kissed back for half a second, she relived her old life for a speck of time before her eyes flew back open. Because this was not her husband. Not anymore. She was promised to Five, devoted to him, and she had no intentions of changing that. Not even for Anthony.

He pulled away and gently kissed her forehead. “Did you just wake up?”

“I… um…”

“You know she did.” Her mother chuckled and walked into the kitchen. “She was up again, trying to finish her drafts.”

“She’s a hard-working woman.” He squeezed her arm. “It’s what I love about her.”

(Y/N) watched Anthony walk into the kitchen with wide eyes, her mind racing. As she examined her home, she recognized minor differences. Anthony’s obituary was no longer sitting on its own shelf, Ben’s favorite books were missing from her collection, the family photos were updated. The last time Anthony held Jada, she was just a baby. But those photos couldn’t have been taken more than a few months ago. Swallowing, she looked down at her hand.

The white bracelet that belonged to Sparrow (Y/N) no longer took its place on her wrist. She never even remembered taking it off. But that wasn’t the worst of it.

Her new wedding ring was gone, replaced with the old one she had taken off long ago. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t right at all.

“What’s wrong, Mama?”

(Y/N) turned to the couch to find her children staring at her with big, curious hazel eyes, Mr Pennycrumb happily wagging his tail between the two.

“Oh, god…” She shook her head as the aching in her temples worsened. “Something is… very wrong.”

—————————————

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THE FOURTH AND FINAL INSTALLMENT, "Before Daybreak", IS COMING TO YOU SOON!! Thank you for reading ❤️❤️

[girldragongizzard]

Chapter 18: Third Megnitude

Sensation probably comes back to me faster than it feels like it does.

If it took longer than a moment or two, I imagine I’d be crushed.

The surface beneath me is hard, slick like varnished wood, curved, and tilted, and my ass is notably higher than my head.

The instant I have control over my muscles, I scramble to my feet, claws scuffing and sliding across what is actually varnished wood. And I blink my eyes and look around.

I appear to be on the starting ramp of a now barely functional roller derby rink, in a darkened arena lit only by the waning sunlight coming in through the high windows and skylights. And the ambient light coming in through the ragged hole in the wall I apparently just came through.

And through that hole, I see glimpses of Säure’s moving body as he lifts himself up from the ruins of his stadium.

And as he lowers his head to turn his eye toward my hole and look at me, I hear and see movement in the corners of the gym around me.

I dart my gaze here and there to take it all in.

Oh, shit. The derby team is here, in the arena with me!

Oh, fuck.

Oh, crap.

“Go,” I say, incapable of giving my voice any urgency, but making it as loud as I can. “Now.”

And then I cough up a little aerosolized flame to emphasize the urgency, and turn and run from the new entrance I made to the building myself.

I slam against the doors on the west side of the room, just before anybody else reaches them, banging them open and damaging the frame in the process.

I do my best to keep my rapidly moving tail away from any calves or thighs as I bolt through the door and scamper down the hallway past the lobby of the hockey rink on my right, and the concessions stalls to my left.

There’s a big set of three glass double doors at the other end, and I can hear skates and sneakers squeaking and rolling across the laminate flooring behind me.

The ground shakes with a muffled whump. And then again.

Then, just as I’m crashing through the front doors of the complex, the whole world shutters with a quick succession of four impacts.

And I stumble into the parking lot just in time to be struck with Säure’s cry of fury.

It’s like someone took the T-Rex roar from the first Jurassic Park movie and stretched out the waves into the infrasonic and ultrasonic ranges even for me, and then turned the volume up so high that people struck by the sound don’t so much hear it as they are pushed through a portion of spacetime forcefully by it.

My mind refuses to register the experience as anything intelligible as it’s happening, and it’s only afterward that I start to make sense of it.

I don’t have to turn my head far to look over the building at him and catch him snapping at something in the air to the left of his head. Something I can’t see.

“Go,” I say, my voice severely muffled to my own ears. “Go. Go. Go.”

It hardly need be uttered. The team is dispersing and scrambling for their cars. I hope the time it takes to get into them and get them started isn’t too long for their safety. Especially with me in their midst.

But Säure does look distracted.

He snaps at the air a few more times, blindly, unintelligibly.

So, I take the moment to turn and face him and stretch all my muscles.

The soot and ashes from Laserbreath’s attack over there have mostly been blown off my scales, but I’m still dusty and dirty looking. Smudged.

I am, incredibly, miraculously, unwounded. At least, nothing like the gash on my shoulder that’s mostly healed now. But I’ve been seriously banged up, and my whole body hurts in places and ways that worry me.

The more I work it, though, the more ready I feel to do something else.

Then I remember something I can do that I haven’t really played around with much, except on my own when I’m bored. I have no idea what good it will do here, but if Säure’s so harried and confused, maybe I can add to that.

I do a fair imitation of Joel’s yawp.

Then I bolt to my right, circling the building and headed in the direction of the nearby elementary school. There are probably kids in there, I know, but I’m not going to draw him there, this is just a quick feint.

Wait. Are there children in there? It’s Saturday.

Still. There might be.

Round the corner and mostly out of sight, I let loose with the loudest series of poinks I can manage.

Then, I turn and run along as close to the side of the building as I can, past the front doors again, and over to the North of it.

And there, I let out the most anguished dying man’s scream I can remember.

And I keep going.

We’re actually in Tannis’ territory, and she’s confused by the sudden close presence of three of her neighbors, so she shrieks like a singing banshee. Perfect.

And then I’m crashing through the wooded wetlands to the north of the Sportsplex, between it and the soccer and softball fields, and I’m whistling like Wentin as I go. That’s a really easy one to mimic, honestly. A spooky sin wave of a voice.

Briefly, I think I can hear Wentin croon in my ear, “Adorable.” 

But it’s not there. To get that close, it would have to enter the full vision of that eye, nevermind the peripheral. And there’s no such movement or presence when it happens.

This is a large wooded area that we didn’t draw Säure too, and I wonder briefly if the Poet is hiding in here. It’s her favorite kind of haunt, I’m told. But I don’t see her.

I hope that if Säure follows me to the northern fields, he doesn’t do too much damage on his way.

And then there are more poinks far behind me, faster and more poignant, strident, than I managed to make them, as Astraia joins in on the taunting.

And that triggers a series of call backs from the surrounding territories. A whole cacophony of dragons. And it sounds like they are closing in!

Holy shit, are they all fools like me?

Then, the weirdest thing happens.

I hear my own cry come from downtown, across the freeway and over building tops, from my own roof. Distant and taunting.

I did not coordinate with anybody to do that. I don’t particularly want that to happen. But I also don’t even know how it happens. Who is imitating me from my own roof?

I can only think of Chapman. I wouldn’t put it past hir to be able to craft a noise maker of any sort by scrawling a pattern all over the tar black roof in trans pride chalk.

Why, though? 

More confusion?

We don’t want to draw Säure into the populated areas of the city, I don’t think. Not that we aren’t already surrounded by inhabited buildings and homes right now. But not downtown!

It feels like when things started to derail, everyone lost cohesion, and they’re all now flailing about. Just like me. Communicating badly with dragon calls at best.

I really just wanted Säure confused enough to stall him from going after me and the Flounder Pounders. I am so hoping the derby team made it out of there.

I feel a few more thumps as Säure repositions himself on the ground and maybe starts pursuing what he thinks of as me.

A glance over my shoulder shows me his tail swinging high over the Sportsplex, as he’s turned around, and I stop to watch. I don’t exactly feel safe, but I’m clearly not being threatened at the moment.

I observe as he makes an attempt to jump and lift himself in the air, but his wings cannot find purchase and he slams back into the ground like a building falling to its hands and knees.

And then he rears up on his hind legs and roars again with that space folding auditory assault of his.

And I think clearly, for the first time today, this all might have been a huge mistake.

By provoking Säure, I’ve seriously endangered the city. And if we can’t subdue him before the National Guard is deployed, or something like that, it could be even more of a disaster than it already is.

I wonder why anybody went along with this plan of mine.

What am I doing?

Welp.

I’m going to do everything I can to bring him to me in an open field, then.

What we can do there, I have no idea.

I’d love to talk to him, but I only have a limited array of vocabulary for that. It’s grown over the past week, in preparation for this. But I also know my ability to talk under pressure is unreliable, too.

But, If I can get him over these wetlands to those fields, I at least know that we won’t be fighting too near any houses. And that feels critical to me.

On the other side of those fields is a light industrial area with businesses that should be closing up shop now, if they haven’t already done that three to four hours ago.

I can’t believe how long this fight has taken. But we’ve been flying all over the city before this, I guess.

Meh.

Time for me to see if I can figure out how to fight an offensively picturesque, spiky, mobile, infuriated hill.

I turn back and start bounding through the thin trees and brush toward the northern fields again.

As I near them, I catch glimpses of people standing near their cars, watching Säure’s antics behind me, over the treetops.

I start repeating my signature cry. Loud and insistant and over and over.

And the enormous monster must be reacting to me because, as I burst from the treeline, I see everyone in sight buckle at their knees and turn to run, looking over their shoulders up at the sky.

Yes, you fools, get the fuck out of here!

These look like the stragglers of a few games that must have been going on in these fields before this all started.

Boom!

Boom, boom, boom!

Säure is now actually following me.

Thump, bump, boom!

I can see his towering head looming higher and higher as he nears my location, while I’m galloping out to the middle of the fields.

When I get to my chosen spot, I hop and turn to face him, crouching on springy legs ready to lunge or bolt to either side, and call with my entire diaphragm, “Stop.”

It’s not a yell or a shout. There’s no emotion to it. But, like my morning song, it’s loud enough to be faintly heard two neighborhoods over.

I know he can’t not hear it.

And he does stop. He pulls back his head, tilting it down at me, and opening his mouth menacingly.

“Talk,” I call out.

He tilts his head to the side, mouth still cracked open. It looks way less quizzical that way. Though, still questioning. As if asking me if I’d like to step inside his maw.

“Fuck. Chapman,” I say at the same volume. “Fuck. Ptarmigan. Fuck. Artists. You. Me. Talk. Peace.”

That would probably go over badly with everyone who overheard, if key people didn’t know that this was actually part of my original plan.

Why not desperately stick to it, actually?

I’m losing.

He can actually get me if he chases me all day.

But, I’m seeing that he’s still hesitating to go full out. He doesn’t want to hurt his hoard, the city, more than he has to. The stadium must have been a calculated sacrifice, or a moment of pure passion. But he pulled himself up short of the Sportsplex, even if he was being distracted by something else.

And while he’s been walking after me, now, he was mincing, picking his foot placement carefully.

So, while I could dodge into the rest of the city to avoid him, and leave him the choice of following me and possibly killing people, or letting me get away – and I’ve shown I’m willing and capable of doing that, actually, as much as I don’t want to – the fact that I’m stopping and offering him a chance to negotiate might actually be enticing.

I wonder if he can talk in full dracoform.

I’m not sure why he wouldn’t be able to.

“Meghan,” he says, voice thundering across the county.

Yeah. This actually feels embarrassing and tense. I’m putting myself on the very public spot by doing this.

“Truce,” I reply. Another new word of mine, just for this use.

“No. You. Give. Up.”

“No. Truce,” I insist.

“You. No. Bargain,” he responds, loud enough for the Sheriff to hear, it seems like.

“No,” I tell him. “I. Threat. I. Go. You. Fight. Fairport.”

He jerks his chin up, mouth open and says, “Ridiculous!”

In response, keeping my eyes on his head, I feint to the side, toward downtown. Then I bark, “Okay.” 

I keep my body tense and leaning that direction, to make it clear what I intend to do if he pushes the matter.

“Stop,” he says.

“No,” I reply. “You. Truce.”

This is the point at which the cartoon villain would call my bluff and pounce on me, forcing me to dash into the city and risk him following me to the injury and deaths of hundreds to thousands of people.

All the other dragons have fallen silent to our conversation. At least that part of the plan is working now. But it’s kind of creepy. As if we’re the only two dragons in town, now.

I can watch him considering the situation I’ve pulled him into, weighing all the risks to himself. And he’s been presented with a few that neither he nor I fully understand.

I still haven’t felt Ptarmigan do anything, but Chapman and the Poet have been laying enchantments on Säure that were not fully explained to me, out of a need for expedient secrecy. Similar to why I’ve been lying in my blog. And something is also keeping him from flying, it seems.

I still don’t think he’s quite grasped that he’s the villain in this story, though. But, then, that is a bit subjective to who the audience is, I guess.

This is scary.

Everything is telling me he’s going to pounce, or attack in some way.

He’s so powerful, there’s no particular reason for him not to. Not in the short run, at least. And while the long run is the crux of it, the longer he pauses to consider, the more time my Artist friends have to craft another snare for him, or pull the snares tight that already surround him. And he’s got to be thinking about that.

But, you know? All the cartoon villains in the world were written by humans, with human sensibilities and motives.

This is a dragon.

And though I’m less than a rival, I’m vermin to him, I’m right in the middle of both his hoard and his food supply. And I’m apparently really annoying to him. I’ve got his attention.

I don't know. I have been projecting a lot of thoughts into his head that might not be there. Maybe he's just visualizing all the ways he can swallow me, or he knows things I don't.

I wait, poised to gallop and fly away at an instant twitch on his part. And as much as I really don’t want to see anybody die or lose their house today, I am damn well prepared to run into the city. Now that I’m against this wall, I want to survive.

“Okay,” he says. Then, after a meaningful pause, he says, “Talk.”

I. Do. Not. Relax.

I’m trying to think of a word I know that I can remember that has enough meaning for a negotiation. And I feel like my mind is slowly going blank as I try to search it.

This is the worst time for losing what little speech I have! But it’s happening.

“Talk,” I manage to repeat, feeling really lame about it.

He jerks his head. With his mouth open, I’m sure it looks like a silent mirthful laugh to a human, but to me it’s pure threat. And my muscles twitch.

“Talk,” I say again.

“Yes,” he replies. “Talk. You. Talk.”

Damn him. He’s gotta see I don’t have my purse. My tablet is gone. He’s mocking me. He’s putting me on the back foot by insisting I do something I can’t do very well at all.

Though, I was the one who insisted on talking instead of fighting.

I wonder if I can speak as much with body language as anything. If we could both take human disguise and get to the library somehow, we could use the computers there to actually talk to each other. 

I still don’t know exactly what I want to talk to him about, but having him concede to do that with me would be far better than dancing through Fairport trying to fight each other.

Especially if we can do it in human disguise, because then he’ll be stuck for a while, and then we can actually do something about it.

I’m thinking, maybe, since he was the one who just destroyed several wetlands and the city stadium, we let the police arrest him. As much as I hate to lean on that corrupt institution, it would be a wonderful irony.

He’ll probably just get a slap on the wrist, but it’ll be a start.

I jerk my head sideways toward downtown, and manage to say, “Go. Talk.”

Let’s see if he can figure that out.

He looks the direction I indicated.

Then he closes his mouth and tilts his head to look at me with his right eye, and says, “Top of Tower.”

Ah, his restaurant of choice. His turf.

If he can provide phones, or tablets, or something to talk with, I’ll take it.

“You’re paying,” he says.

That’s a whole phrase he taught himself.

I cannot afford that restaurant. But, this does give me the opportunity to stiff him in return for him stiffing me, if I play my cards right. So, I’m going to agree to it.

The trick now is trying to figure out how we’re going to get there from here.

Maybe I just have to agree and then wait to see what he does.

Can I remember the word I need? I can.

“Okay,” I say.

“I. Drive,” he says. And then he lifts his head and makes a weird warbling noise with his syrinx. It’s kind of like a klaxon but also some kind of bird song. There's a whistling to it, with a rhythm of ultrabass infrasonic rumbling. It might be just a little too complex for me to imitate, but I definitely can't match the volume.

It echos off the surrounding landscape like a fog horn.

And then, when he’s done he looks at me again, and says, “Wait.”

“Truce,” I repeat, hammering down on my key concern.

“Truce,” he says.

And then I remember one of the phrases I'd worked on the last few nights, and it’s perfect.

“Shake on it,” I say. And then, I awkwardly stand on my hind legs and hold out my right claw, expectantly.

There's no way he can shake my claw while he's that big. Even if he did some silly gesture like present me with a single tree sized talon, he'd too easily crush me with a twitch. And there’s no way I'll stay where I am to let him do that.

He studies me carefully.

I wish I could guess what he’s thinking.

I suppose I need to show him a gesture of trust. Not that that's at all a reasonable expectation in this situation. But I don’t think reason or fairness factor into anything Säure does.

OK.

I want to sell this to him. He's gotta be feeling uncertain and vulnerable with all the weird bullshit we've been trying to pull on him. And he has some kind of curse the Poet just put on him.

But if he called for a ride and we are going to the Top of the Tower, he’s going to commit to taking human form.

He blinks and changes the angle of his head, still studying me.

There must be a reason he’s not insisting we fly to his home in our dracoforms.

Maybe he guesses I'll never agree to it. So a semineutral human establishment is in order. A place I'd agree to go to.

He must really want to work with me.

Or, to turn the trap I've laid back on me, and to attack me when I've let my guard down.

I know how quickly I can change my shape.

It's not quite fast enough to dodge a UV laser, if I'm in human disguise. He could burn me then. But, my human skin doesn't feel like it's my insides or anything vulnerable like that. When I'm in that shape, I can still feel my scales covering me.

It's really an unknown risk. But at least I'll see him opening his jaws first.

But, if he pounces instead, I'm sure I can revert and dodge in time. When it comes to that kind of interaction, I have yet to find a dragon besides Anurak that can touch me. Not even Wentin can.

I decide to do it.

I sigh with a big breath, and fold myself up into my faerie princess outfit, then give him a closed lip smile and hold out my right hand again.

Säure rears back in a movement that looks like my doom, closing his eyes.

But then he opens them again and takes four tree crushing steps through the woods between us and dives down into his businessman disguise only a few yards ahead of me.

Straightening his tie and then stretching his arms as he looks down at them, he begins to walk forward toward me.

His face is so good at portraying smugness with hardly a muscle twitch. His straight backed walk makes him look like he's buoyed physically by his own confidence.

“Shake on it,” he says in a human volume, reaching out with his own right hand just as I hear a helicopter approaching in the distance.

I can't believe how much the sound of that kind of contraption puts me on edge.

It's a very silly idea to ride a helicopter from here to downtown, where there’s no-where to land it. Unless maybe this one is going to deliver a car. It could actually airlift a car here, if it's a big enough chopper.

Well, I think that’s what he did with his song, call that chopper.

Maybe it's the trap.

And I feel the back of my neck tensing as our hands near each other under the increasing sound of air being smacked by rotor blades.

Then movement catches my eye, as it does. 

It's right behind Säure’s head from my point of view, so he doesn't seem to see the shift in my gaze. Or, maybe neither of us can really react in time.

Because time itself seems to dilate.

As our hands go from six inches away from each other, to within an inch, between thumps of the distant helicopter blades, I watch as Wentin blooms from the darkness between trees in the twilight, and lopes as if in slow motion across the field to rear up above and behind Säure.

And just as Säure reacts to the look on my face, wide pupils almost in perfect circles, mouth opening, Wentins jaws snap shut over his top half.

Limbs jerking, failing to transform, Säure is lifted up into the air, and swallowed like a seagull with a freshly broken neck.

It takes Wentin only three jerks of its head to imbibe Säure.

And then the billionaire is gone.

—

I don't really know how long I've been staring at Wentin as the helicopter continues to close the distance. But the vehicle is probably very nearly here.

And in that time, the nightmare doesn't explode with a suddenly expanding kaiju bursting from its stomach.

I'm not just bewildered, I'm in shock.

Wentin winks.

And I'm still in my princess disguise.

“My dear Queen Meghan,” Wentin eventually says, just barely audible over the helicopter. “It has been my honor to serve you, but really, next time, you will have to finish your meal yourself.”

And then it turns and leaves.

[muffy-official]

I haven't fully developed Gabbys parents and I feel ashamed aaa

Her mother is Joanna Kamiński, Henrys sweet Joanna

Her father is Henry Theodore Garland(fine with being called both names, he's used to that)

Haven't really thought of their full looks nor designs yet, might try to develop that

I had ideas for further lore:

I lowkey forget names I have written down tbh

But her dad mayhaps worked at a newspaper office for a while

Unhappy with the censoring that happened there

Eventually stumbling upon a cleaning lady who seemed to never want to speak, being Gabs future mother

From using gestures he tried to speak for her until her English got better, shielding her from possible discrimination and eventually it clicked between the two

Him perhaps even quitting his old job to pursue journalism as a job rather than a hobby, with her mom she maybe waited a bit or went for simple jobs when she felt the employers were somewhat immigrant friendly

Eventually deciding they wanted a child together

Being nervous, but loving first time parents, probably that's why Babri was so sour when seeing a 6yo Gabby run to her worrying sick father. She had what he never got.

Joanna was also aware of the dangers Henrys job might bring and Henry himself feels awful about said dangers that could happen when he isn't careful

Even if they were loving, they grew more protective over eachother and especially their child due to Henrys semi freelance journalism he's been conducting on Murkoff and hoping, praying even the mob family that did caught up a journalist was here in New Orleans undercover in 46 won't find his families location in Colorado. Unaware it's Murkoff that will take both him and Joanna forcefully from their home in 1950 while Gabby was away. Henry getting beaten unconscious by masked men in the process while Joanna was injected with a anesthetic as she was about to hit one of the many men with a bust she picked up from a little table. The house was left in a mess, somehow nobody caught wind of what happened or perhaps people were forced to look away who knows...

Henrys love language to Joanna was trying to find polish vinyls they could listen and dance to together. Even learning words, backing her up and always being there for her. He loves her dearly, he loves his child, she loves her child. Helping her around the house and with the baby as much as he could, comforting Joanna when news struck that part if not most of their family has been captured, killed or gotten in trouble in Poland. Just unfortunate that Murkoff took them. Even if they didn't, the alternative wouldn't be any better.. who knows what Salvatore Barbi would've done to or with Joanna and little Gabby if he did get his hands on Henry himself if he ever discovered their house in Colorado one way or another.

Henry also has a birthmark under his right eye, Joanna on the lower left corner of her mouth which Gabby ends up having both visible on her face

Henry also tried to avoid serving as much as he could. He couldn't handle thinking about how Joanna feels or leaving their not yet born daughter without a father

Henrys father, Albert hated that his son fell in love and slept with a Polish immigrant, being in that hateful mindset. He decided to just not allow his father to show up ever again, not even to Gabbys birthdays. The kid was only at his place a few times when her grandma Mary Ann was still alive, which she was a sweet woman, embarrassed of her husbands hateful views, but would feel guilty leaving his son behind like this.

Gabby as a child was a very alive and happy little girl, kinda reminding me of Bioshocks little sisters

Even though she still had to deal with mean things due to her hair colour and generally acting a bit different than other kids around her and be careful to not make it shown her mother's a immigrant

Listening to her dads rules to not trust most suited men upfront that may be trying talking to her etc

Her mother telling her to stay away from cops. There was one instance where a 3yo Gabby quietly wandered off from her mother, almost leaving the store as she saw something colourful outside that peaked the toddlers interest, her path getting blocked by a police officer who looked at the child and asked where her parents are, but before he could take further action her mother quickly picked her up seeing this, pointed at herself and left, leaving the man quite confused. Joanna doesn't like speaking in public due to her accent.

And what messes with her years since the disappearance her parents happened is that she eventually accepted they're probably dead, but something feels off about this. Something feels like they may be still here, but she doesn't know where or its just her still staying in denial, not wanting to believe if they're truly long gone.

Ngl I do hope this makes at least some sense and I also hope it's interesting and not bad to read

Update: tried to do a idea sketch for Joanna, not sure if this is the one

It's kinda hard to design parents that resemble their child enough

[the-white-soul]

*Flowey is struck with joyful surprise. He smiles big as he lets the vines retract and gently pulls himself out of the dirt so that he can climb closer to Frisk's face. He wraps his stem around their shoulders as if hugging them.*

Heehee, I gotta be honest, I didn't expect you to actually let me. Makes me wonder if you were just playing hard to get~

*His face approaches their, taking his sweet time just to annoy them before finally closing the gap.

He acts now as though Frisk were the one stalling, not wasting a single moment while his tongue is wrapped around theirs. A sweet taste fills their mouth, reminding them a lot of nectar or honey. Flowey makes the kiss last for three minutes, no more or less into it any second more than the other. His top petals tickle the bottom of Frisk's eyes, urging them to close in order to enjoy the moment until he finally pulls away. He's grinning widely with a now clear reddish-peach tinge on the sides of his face.*

Heehee~ I think I like kisses.

I could have made it longer, but I know you'd push me away by then anyway, wouldn't you? Or do you change your mind? I'd appreciate you kissing back more, if that's the case.

But if not... I guess we can go back then. *he sighs.* Its a shame you wanna focus on all that stressful stuff rather than spend time with me.

The only problem is you don't seem very compliant, even if you're forced to do something.

*He scowls, and the blush fades away.* It's annoying.

Noelle, go ahead and escort Frisk back. Make sure they don't mention this. Once I have another idea on what to do with you I'll come back and grab you. Thanks to you for being so good about all this!

(Frisk) "Well Flowey, you seemed to have enjoyed that. I hope you loved it so much you'd die to do it again because I'm saying without a shadow of a doubt that was the worst thing to happen to me in my whole life. Oh, I'm not overexaggerating you little weed. You make Chara look like a saint from heaven! You forcefully kissed me. Do you know how messed up that is? What if I were to kiss Dess right now without her consent? WOULD THAT BE OKAY TOO?! You know what screw humans rights when monsters can just go over and kiss you without consent. In fact, I feel like you make me want to cut off my private parts, just knowing you might be attracted to them. I hope that Jack finds you and does double the torture he did upon Asgore to you. I hope he burns you alive! That'd be fun. I don't even know how to describe how messed up you are. I hope Kara sees what kind of dick you are. I'm done now. Hey Dess! *Put their hands in the air* Do what Flowey said! *Noelle unlocked Frisk and followed them out with Flowey* Dess?"

(Noelle) "What?"

(Frisk) "I do like some forms of intimacy because I like the bond it brings and it can make my partners happy. That's why I can never ever like Flowey. I hope he dies."

(Noelle) "Can you stop it already?! Do you think I want you to be harassed? No! Some things are more important. You know that!"

(Frisk) "I'm going to get revenge on him somehow. I don't know how or when but Flowey, today you made a mortal enemy. I hope you're proud of yourself."

[scarletwritesshit]

🦚 Aventurine 🦚 Free Bird

Kakavasha looked into the mirror tilting his head so that he could get a better view of the burn scar on his neck. SLAVE, against his will, had become an integral part of his identity, for even after freeing himself from his physical shackles, he was always at the mercy of the chains of fate. He had neglected to tend to the presence of this marking, and so Kakavasha had grown used to being the bearer of its curse.

Born at the mercy of Sigonia-IV. Living under the shackles of the IPC. Dying in fate’s chokehold.

But a premature death was no longer for him.

He wanted to live…he wanted his life to outshine the gemstone he once donned as an alias, and show that he wasn’t going to let the chains of despair hold him down any longer.

The first step in doing so was cutting ties with his past misfortune. He wanted to strip himself of the branding, so that at first glance, he wouldn’t be immediately perceived as some object that had managed to run astray. Kakavasha initially considered simply hiding the brand, but running away was not his idea of moving on.

Forcefully removing it would not only be painful, but it would leave a larger, bloody mess in its place. He ran his fingers over the rough skin, contemplating his course of action. It was there, and wasn’t going to go away so easily. Somehow, he wanted to turn a tragic reminder into a symbol of rebound and rebirth, but what? How could one possibly twist a brand of slavery into an emblem of hope?

Kakavasha wished he could rip it off and his neck heal without a trace, leaving behind only the mental scarring that cannot be seen. He gripped at his skin, imagining himself tearing away from the last chains that bound him to the IPC. All of his blood pouring from his neck, drenching his clothing and pooling on the floor, would be but a small price to pay for true freedom.

Spilling blood to gain the upper hand was ingrained in his nature. For Kakavasha, it was a way of survival. The sting from his fingers pinching his neck snapped him back to reality. He wanted to move away from this life, not dwell in the same darkness that clasped his neck.

If only I could be reborn anew, he thought as he gently soothed the now sore area on his neck. Reborn freer and more graceful than ever, like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

That’s when an idea hit him.

Kakavasha pulled back the layers of his top to expose the burn scar to the artist.

"A phoenix here, if you please," he said, pointing to the brand. "Covering it up is my top priority, and I trust in you to work your magic."

The tattoo artist pushed aside the fur and collar of Kakavasha's outfit in order to get a better look for himself. He studied the burn for a moment, squinting his eyes.

"Another IPC survivor. You don’t see them every day," he said in a gruff, yet casual voice.

"Another?" Kakavasha asked, surprised.

"When you’ve been doing this as long as I have, you’ll see a thing or two," he said, one of his long Foxian ears flickering. "So, you lookin’ for just a coverup?"

Kakavasha nodded his head.

The gruff Foxian man thought for a moment, once more studying the burn. "Hmm…I got just the thing for you, but you’re gonna have to take off your shirt for this one."

Curious, Kakavasha took off the layers of his shirt and dropped them to the side, revealing his pale, worn skin. The artist studied him further, observing every imperfection that up to the imprint on his neck. He scratched his beard in thought, before being struck with inspiration and snapping his finger.

"This is pretty doable," he said, looking up and down Kakavasha’s left side.

"And how much you askin’ me for it?"

The man thought for a moment, then shook his head. "It’s on me, son."

"Credits aren’t an issue to me. I have more than plenty to spare."

"You earned those with far more blood than they’re worth. Consider my work a gift from one survivor to another."

Kakavasha turned around and glanced at the Foxian man’s neck. Beneath his short, disheveled brown hair, he could make out an ornate skull tattoo, with its teeth located approximately where an IPC brand of slavery would have been singed. He decided to not press further questions, for additional words were not needed for him to understand that him and Kakavasha’s hearts were one in the same.

It took quite a few hours, and Kakavasha would’ve found it hard to stay still, if he were not already exhausted. He was overjoyed that at long last, he was truly breaking free of the shackles that once held him down. Though he still felt as if he deserved every ounce of torment, and perhaps much more, he was relieved to have such immense weight lifted from his shoulders.

After he was done, the artist turned the chair around to face a large mirror, and nudged at Kalavasha to look at it. Immediately, his eyes began to fill with tears.

No longer could he tell that the word SLAVE was seared into his skin. The burn was practically invisible underneath the crown plumage of a glorious phoenix. Not only was the coverup a success, his entire left side was adorned by the body of the majestic bird, its tail feathers in the shape of a peacock and its wings spreading out to hide even more painful reminders along his body.

After all he had managed to tough out, the sight of a beautiful bird rising over the scars of his past makes him cry?

Indeed it did, and Kakavasha let the tears run down his face and allowed himself to smile.

The Foxian man put his large, calloused hand on his shoulder. Kakavasha looked up to see him, too, smiling with the same glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"Safe to say you love it, son?" he said.

At a loss for words, he nodded his head.

"I’m glad. A pretty boy like you deserves himself a pretty bird."

Despite the man declining payment numerous times, Kakavasha still felt guilty letting such fine artistry go unpaid. As a “tip,” he left behind a few thousand credits, a hefty amount that the Foxian tattoo artist could’ve easily pocketed under the table. Instead, since there was no use attempting to return the credits to Kakavasha, he picked them up and smiled at them fondly.

"These will do better for someone less fortunate. Not all of em’ end up as lucky as he did," he thought as he secured them in an inconspicuous location.