#casually @s rye

[suddenlymicah]

@swagtransboy is this about you

you liked one of my posts and i shot up upon seeing the words "dark reunion" in ny inbox😭😭😭 horrifying /j

I normally try to wait to look at my asks when I get them (which is like once a month) so I don't look like a chronically online maniac but when I saw the first few words of this I knew it was about my username so I RUSHED to read it and I feel I must clarify

I am n o t the dark reunion. See. It says "totally NOT the dark reunion." Please stop mixing this up thanks.

P.S. if you see a weird eighth grader with blue hair and red bandages around his arm bring him to me immediately pls. Thanks bai bai

[th3casscad3]

Endless Love

Alastor Had Always Held A Sort Of Soft Spot For You. But It Wasnt Until Tonight That He Truly Expressed How You Made Him Feel.. Perhaps It Was The Rye Or Maybe It Was The Way The Red Sky Shone Down Upon Your Delicate Skin.. Warnings/Triggers: Fluff, Confessions, Soft Kisses, Ear Handling And Antler Holding. SFW Characters: 4,051 ______________________________________________________________

It Was A Regular Night At The Hotel. Everyone Was Gathered Around In The Main Lobby, Having Casual Discussion. Vaggie And Charlie Could Be Seen Cuddling On The Couch, Angel Was Flirting With Husker At The Bar. Sir Pentious Was Petting Keekee And Nifty.. Nifty Was God Knows Where. It Seemed Like A Peaceful Evening. You Made Your Way Up To The Rooftop, Passed The Radio Tower. You Had Glanced Over At Alastor Who Seemed To Be Going Over His Controls And Functions. You Decided Not To Bother Him While He Was In There. You Could Say You Had A Liking Towards Alastor, When You First Met Him Upon His Arrival At The Hotel He Seemed Like A Overly Ego'd, Cocky, Self Confident Man. But Upon Getting To Know Him Better, You Realized That He's Just A Man, Who Tends To Hide His Emotions Through A Smile. While Everyone Else Was Still Weary Of Him, You Opened Yourself Up To Him. Before You Knew It, You And Him Were Always Hanging Around One Another. He Would Let You Touch Him Without Consequence And Didn't Even Mind When You Called Him Nicknames. As You Made Your Way To The Top Of The Rooftop, You Sat Down At The Big Lettering "Hazbin Hotel," You Placed Yourself In Between The E And The L. Taking A View Of The City You Noticed The Extermination Clock. Despite You Knowing What It Meant You Couldn't Help But Admire Its Glow. It Was Absolutely Breathtaking. So Engulfed With The Shine Of The Clock You Hadn't Even Noticed Alastor Take A Seat Next To You. " Beautiful, Isn't It. The Way The Clock Tower Shines. Distracts You From The Meaning Behind It " Alastor Said With A Soft Hum. The Smell Of Rye Lingered In His Breath.

" Its Heartbreaking. All Of These Families, Lovers, Friends.. Never Knowing Whose Going To Die Next. " You Sighed As You Leaned Your Head Against His Shoulder. The Two Of You Sat In A Comfortable Silence, Simply Taking In The Sounds Of The City. Breaking Glass, Gun Shots, Yelling, Arguing, The Lovely Sounds Of Hell. Little Did You Know, Alastor's Eyes Were Locked On You. Maybe It Was The Way The Red Light From The Sky Kissed Your Delicate Skin. Or The Rye In His System But You Seemed More Beautiful Today Than You Always Do.. And You Always Shined Brighter Than Anything He's Ever Seen. He Felt The Desire To Grab A Hold Of Your Hand And Make You Face Him. A Softened Smile On His Face As His Eyes Gazed Into Your With Adoration. His Other Hand Caressing Your Cheek. You Felt Your Face Turn Red At His Sudden Contact But You Didn't Dare Move. You Didn't Want To Move. Instead You Placed A Gentle Smile Upon Your Face. You Noticed The Twitch In His Ears, Displaying His Small Antlers Atop His Head. "My Dear, I Know I Say This Often.. But You Look Simply Divine. Every Moment I Spend With You Makes Me Feel More A Man. A Man In Love.. I Know I'm Suppose To Be This Big Scary Demon With All This Power, But I Would Trade It All In To Be With You, My Dear." Alastor Leaned In Closer To You. You Could Feel His Hands Tremble And His Heartbeat Quicken. He Was Nervous. You Leaned In As Well, Your Noses Now Brushed Together And Your Breath Hitting One Another's Cheek. "Alastor, You May Not Hold y Soul. But You Do Hold My Heart, I Want To Spend The Rest Of My Afterlife With You. Until Death Kills Me Again. To Be Yours Is All That I Long For "* Before You Know It, Alastor's Lips Is Met With Yours. There Was A Surge Of Excitement That Traveled Through Your Body As Your Lips Danced With His In A Tender Kiss. A Kiss That Spoke Thousands Of Words And Held Deep Emotions. Your Hands Traveled To His Hair As Your Body Pressed Together With His. Your Fingers Softly Scratching His Ears And Receiving A Soft Purr From His Lips. After A Few Moments The Kiss Was Broken For The Need To Collect Air. Your Forehead Touched His As You Two Caught Your Breath, Your Hands Now Holding His. The Only Thing You Cared About In This Moment Was Alastor. Nothing Else Mattered As The Two Of You Shared This Moment And Embraced Each Other. " I Vow To Love And Protect You Until The Day I Die Again, My Sweet Darling... "

[bisexual-horror-fan]

ok so. first of all, bex, hiiii! thanks for being a buddy, i adore your writing and your sense of humor ( ˘ ³˘)♥ i come to you with a mutual favorite boy!! i was wondering if you could write Leslie Vernon doing his thing, picking out his final girl (fem reader, i'm also getting self indulgent with this lol), but as he starts to plant seeds and lure her and a few friends in, she's guessing his twists, tracing the path to how he's trying to single someone in the group out (possibly doesn't know it's her until it's too late). the entire time, she's doing it with excitable golden retriever levels of interest. she's not eager to die, of course. maybe she's just too read up on the horror genre and a little shocked that she walked into one. maybe she just hopes that when it comes down to her that the killer will give her a good chase sequence. 😏 it can be nsfw or not, i'll leave the rest up to you because i know you'll do something great with this (sorry that i'm asking for a lot ;; ) so really!! tysm in advance!! ❤❤❤

Well helllloooooo Riri!

So this has been sitting in the ol box for a while but my God, I think this is totally worth the wait! I went really hard on this one and adore it, this is just like, my sexuality summed up, you know what I mean? Let’s not fucking waste time, let’s GO!

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 5K. Leslie Vernon X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns Used. Warnings: Terms Like Final Girl Used. Stalking. The Reader Is A Confident Little Shit. Exciteable Reader. Supportive Eugene And Jamie. You And Leslie Match. Taunting. Discussions Of Horror, Meta, Tropes. Canon Compliant Violence. Blood. Gore. Murder. Death. Fighting. Struggle. Choking. Grinding. Dry Humping. Premature Ejaculation. 

—

How The Fuck?

— 

It is a frankly gorgeous day. 

The sun is out, it feels almost too hot considering how close fall is. He had just gotten some lunch, a BLT on toasted rye and a soda. His health is important, especially with the big night coming up so he has been severely cutting back on the smaller treats, but today was great so far, so why not indulge? 

He was in the front seat of his van, right now it was time to watch, he’d been observing for a while, and the core group was out and about on a Saturday, down town, doing what normal young adults do when free, light shopping, easy socialisation, grabbing lunch just like he had. 

After taking the first bite of his sandwich he was looking out the windshield, keeping his eyes sharp but still trying to look casual of course, he doesn't want to draw attention doing what he is. He had the window open and was leaning on one arm, resting on his elbow, soda held loosely in his grip and it took him a second too long to realise that you weren't with the group at the moment. Maybe you’d ducked into the cafe you'd all been sitting outside at for something? So unlike him to lose track of you when you were the most important one to watch, he looks down for two seconds for a napkin and this is what happens. 

He is of course going to wait this and subsequently you out until he hears a voice right next to him, saying loud and clear, a question of, “Why have you been following me and my friends for the past few weeks?” 

Leslie is not an easy guy to scare or sneak up on, usually that's his schtick after all but he manages to appear unaffected, a simple turn of his head, looking you up and down and he hasn’t actually been this physically close to you yet. He wasn’t expecting that to happen today, he wouldn’t let it throw him off his game however, careful planning can only take you so far, you still need to think on your feet and be good at improv, luckily he was amazing at “yes anding-” so there was nothing to fear, this was just a test of his skills. 

“What are you talking about?” He asked in a tone that read as confused, pulling his hand back into the car and taking a leisurely sip of his soda, and you smiled, a small cock of your head to the side, “Do I really need to repeat myself? Alright.” 

A small shake of your head, a hand comes up and tucks some hair behind your ear as you reiterate your question, “Why have you been following me and my friends for the past few weeks?”

“Again, I have no idea what you’re talking abou-” You cut him off and say with a laugh, “Come on, save it. I’m not stupid.”

He wasn’t giving up yet, he still kept on playing defence, “Listen, I really dunno what the hell you’re thinking but I can tell you that you’re wrong, it’s a small town! Is it a crime to be in the same place at the same time as you?.” He took another bite of his sandwich and you purse your lips in consideration before saying with raised eyebrows, “Not a CRIME no, but still, an awfully big coincidence for it to be happening for weeks on end.”

 A hand over his mouth as he replied, “Okay?” A lick over his lips, catching some stray mayo before continuing now that his mouthful was dealt with, he does his best to keep his tone even, “Stranger things and bigger coincidences have happened.” 

“Sure, sure. You’re right.” 

You let that hang in the air between you both, watching intently as he took another drink before speaking, “So your van-” You kicked the bottom of the door lightly for emphasis, an action that got a raise of his eyebrows, you don’t let it stop you. “-this van, was outside my friends house during our sleepover last week? Along with those scattered apples and the rather suspicious slashes on the tree outside her place we found the next morning.” 

That did make him stop. 

He caught your eye. Wide smile, leaning in a bit closer as you said, “Just coincidence again?” 

When no retort came you spoke again, “I think you’re up to something and I think I know just what it is.” 

“Do you now?” He asked, unconvinced, and you hummed, one hand slipping into your pocket, “It’s sooo clear. Just like, look at us-”

You turned, leaned your elbow next to his on the open window frame of the van and pointed down the street to the cafe’ where your friends were all seated. “-a healthy group of young adults, people you wouldn’t normally expect to hang out, but have history, investment, hit a few key demographics and tick a few boxes.” A flourish of your hand, he leaned closer, watching through your splayed fingers as they danced passing over the group before coming to yourself, a gesture down the length of your own body. You note that his eyes still follow your hand. 

A beat and then, you point to him, “A mysterious guy who keeps following us around, watching us, coincidentally always nearby, attempting to let his presence not truly be known, but felt,  however remaining ultimately unnoticeable before he really wants himself to be. Strange moments enacted by him leaves us all questioning, little clues and hints thrown out hoping to hook us, get us to do something, but what?”

He felt tense, was trying not to show it but he thinks he might be failing.

You press on, “It’s all too clear. I think you are after us for one purpose. You’re a slasher and we-” Another gesture from yourself and to your friends, “-are your target group.” 

He is stunned. 

How the fuck did you ever figure all this out?

He would need to clean this up, find a new group, this is going to totally fuck up his whole schedule, but then your hands are gripping the window’s edge and you are saying excitedly, “Ha! I Knew it! I can see it on your face! I guessed it!”

You weren’t…Scared?

No, not at all, you looked happy, barely able to contain yourself. 

You were talking a mile a minute, big grin and bouncing on your heels, “This is so fucking cool, it’s like stepping into a horror movie for real! I cannot believe you picked us, this is massively exciting for me, you have no idea.” 

You drummed your hands on the window’s edge and said, “I don’t wanna keep you from your ‘work’-”, putting air quotes around the word with a wink before saying, “-don’t let me stop you or spoil your fun, okay? I’m excited to see where this goes.” 

And just like that you were walking off, a wave over your shoulder and a call of, “Good luck!” As you made your way back towards your friends and all he could do was stare as you went. 

Fuck.

He looked down at his sandwich, some of the bacon grease had slipped out of the wrapper and onto his pants and he grimaced, suddenly his appetite was gone.

The rest of the session watching you was tense. You didn’t even glance in his direction. Just laughing it up and having a good time with your friends. He kept expecting you to give him some kind of acknowledgement but there was none and he wasn’t sure what he was meant to do in this situation. He planned for many things and situations and scenarios but not someone in his target group figuring out his whole bit without him wanting them to. 

He watched you and your friends leave and he sat there for another ten minutes collecting himself before he started up the van and put it in drive, heading off to the two people he knew could absolutely help him with this. 

He was now leaning back on the couch in Eugene and Jamie’s living room after having just spilled his guts explaining all of what went down this afternoon and his thoughts, going back over what happened before today wasn’t needed because he’d already shared the rest as it was going down over the past few weeks. 

“So what’s the problem?” Eugene asked and Leslie laughed, a frustrated sound, hand rubbing over his eyes and down his face before his arms crossed and he said, “The problem is she found me out so early! It’s gonna ruin everything, she knows and now-”

“And now what? She thinks she knows but you didn’t confirm anything. If anything you can use this to your advantage, Les. Plus, ever since those boys in California isn’t meta all the rage? Lean into it.”  Eugene said and Leslie actually considered it for a moment.

Meta was popular, it was modern and true while convention and tradition was important, newness always had to be introduced to keep things fresh and exciting, preventing things from going stale or stagnant was a must and it isn’t like he didn’t enjoy it, like or see the appeal of it. A chance to dabble more into it was exciting. Plus, Eugene hadn’t steered him wrong yet, he still had some lingering doubts, he asked, “Do you really think I can still pull this off with her being aware?”

Jamie had been listening intently from the kitchen, she had been plating up some cookies that she baked earlier that afternoon. She came into the living room, saying, “Leslie, c’mon now, if anyone can do this it’s you.”

She held the plate and offered it up to Eugene who took a cookie with a thank you. She set the plate on the coffee table in front of Leslie before perching herself on the arm of Eugene’s chair. He slipped an arm around her waist and she pressed a kiss to the top of his head with a smile as Leslie responded, “Yeah?”

Eugene responded enthusiastically, “Yes! You’re very smart, think of it as a challenge! Trying to pull one over on her when she is suspecting you and thinks she knows what is coming, it’s a chance for-” Jamie cut in, saying, “Growth.”

“Yes, exactly, a chance for growth, thank you.” Eugene praised with a squeeze of his arm around her, “Just think of how amazing it would feel to stick this landing. I think you are more than ready for something like this.”

He leaned forward, picked up a cookie, hunger, excitement and passion was reignited as he started, “Okay so help me out, which misdirect do you think would be better?”

The afternoon was spent then on planning just how he could get a leg up on you. 

He had to play this just right, had to be careful and take it easy, he took even more precautions but you just kept figuring shit out. 

No matter how well he hid, no matter the subtlety, there you were, picking up on it. He wondered if you were fucking with him, truly aware or it was just dumb fucking luck at some point. There would be some small moment that would make you stop, look around, and then somehow, inexplicably, look in his direction, point down to the clue he left in hopes of placing a quiet suggestion to pull you and your friends to the Vernon farm and you pointed down to it, before giving a thumbs up and mouthing to him, “Nice!” 

Then there was the night he actually scared you all in person, in full garb and everyone else’s faces were marred with a truly horrified expression but you were smiling so hard it looked like it hurt your cheeks, everyone else was so distracted they didn’t notice you clapping a little in your overeager thrill. But he noticed. He couldn’t stop noticing every little thing about you. 

It was infuriating. 

It was exhilarating. 

You hadn’t said anything to your friends. They were all totally ignorant, he wondered why, did you not care for them? Did you seriously think he wouldn’t go through with this? Or did you fear if you spilled the beans that this game would end? You really, really wanted to see this one through to the end and that pushed him further.

When the night arrived he was feeling a whole host of emotions, anxiety, nervousness, but mostly, he felt ready, proud, over the moon happy and joyfully enamoured with the entire process coming to a head. Tonight was even better because of your probing and pushing, it forced him to take this outing to greater heights and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t thankful for that. 

The night itself was very surprising. 

A few good twists and turns, some more improv and quick on his feet thinking but overall, it was going fantastically. Your friends were dropping like flies, there were many scares and running and screaming and yet you were still not that shaken for a seriously annoyingly long time until you came across your friends bodies in person. 

That managed to shake you. 

It was a very satisfying moment for Leslie. 

Seeing you actually scared, that cute little smile falling, the terror washing over your features, permeating into your eyes, God, it was just so delicious. It had him wanting more. 

Picking a favourite moment during this event was tricky. There was something to be said for the way blood splattered across the front of his outfit, the heat of salty iron contrasting against the cold fall air, or the pathetic sounds your friend made when he broke their neck from hanging them, but the best is of course, obvious. 

That second when you knew it was you. That one thing you hadn’t been able to work out, the one thing you hadn’t managed to figure out, who was meant to face off with him, who was the final girl? It took you entirely too long to realise that it was you. 

Witnessing the change he brought out in you was everything he felt he needed. The chase was a good one, you made your way through the orchard beautifully, strides had a good amount of confidence to them but the occasional stumble, sneakers slipping on mud did more for him than he thought even his vocabulary could capture. When you broke out of the orchard, frantically looking around, you called out to him, arms out, proclaiming you were ready. 

It was very “I Know What You Did Last Summer.” but you didn’t care, cliches be damned, this felt real and right in the moment. “I’m right here! I know you want me, Vernon! What are you waiting for?!” 

Weren’t you so bold? Of course he picked up on the reference, he appreciated it, helped solidify it was the right choice. He sneaks around, watching you carefully and when he was right behind you he came forward, he played it just right, making sure to step on a twig and snapped it audibly enough for you to hear. Your head snaps to the side, eyes wide and you see him a few seconds before his hands are on you, a curse and your body jerks away, hands gripping the weapon you held tighter you try to turn as fast as possible to face him. 

You nearly trip on your own feet in the process but you manage, you stare up into that blue-grey mask, into those dark soulless voids that made up where the eyes should be and you breathed out, gaze hard and face lined with concentration and determination, “Finally. I’ve been dying for you to show up.” 

He was thankful for the mask, if not for it you might have seen how he was unable to stop his lips from almost twitching up into a smile and that might ruin the mood. He loved this, the fight you have been putting up, the little jokes, the aspects and bits of you that had been shifting, changing, clicking just so into place to become this new person he knew you could be. He wanted to say something back but he knew it wasn’t right, not the correct moment. The tension was thick, you could feel the weight of his stare even though you couldn’t actually see his eyes, and the next moment happened, the one he’d been craving, aching for God knows how long in pure anticipation to experience. 

You swung at him. 

Thick and heavy two by four laden with rusty nails that threatened tetanus gripped between your hands came towards him with an impressive speed and the fight began. The first blow was deflected but it still hurt, the way and the angle it hit his forearm causing a small shock of pain to his system. 

You weren’t deterred. You swung again and again, he swung back, managed to get a few blows in, your face was going to be a little worse for wear. You tasted blood and were thankful your teeth all seemed intact. 

The last strike managed to hit him hard. A few of those bent and twisted nails bit into his palm when he reached out and managed to grab onto it. He held back the hiss of pain, blood spilled, leaked through the puncture wounds of the nails and down his wrist and arm, he took advantage however and ripped the wood from your hands. He used his other hand to remove it, pulling hard to release the embedded nails, he flung the improvised weapon aside, and you managed to surprise him again, a small look away when he threw it meant that when he looked back he wasn’t counting on you racing towards him, you charged him with a yell. Your arms around his waist, hands locked behind his lower back as you tackled him, the slippery mud had already made your scuffle difficult when standing but you launching yourself with this much force makes his bare feet slide, your weight thrown into him makes him topple and he falls. 

It hurt you both, he landed on your wrists and you groaned from the pain, he grunted, wind slightly knocked out of him as well as the sensation of freezing cold muck already seeping into the holes in his shirt. You don’t stop, you need to keep this momentum, you were still in disbelief that you had gotten the drop on him, you pulled your arms out from under him, scrambling so you were sitting up, knees on either side, straddling him. He didn’t waste time either, even with you on top of him his hand found its way to your throat, grip hard, managing a good hold even with the slick scarlet straining his hand but your own hand barely faltered, as you fumble along his side. He knows what you are after, his other hand joins the first and he squeezes, air is stolen, eyes want to roll back, you don’t give up.

The lack of air begins to take hold quickly, his grip is bruising, he has so much strength, he could crush your windpipe if the angle was slightly different, if you weren’t sitting fully up right on him. You are mindful to sit straight as much as you can, if you lean forward you know he could do you in, your hand feels and just as you are truly struggling to breath your hand finds it. Fingers latched onto the well worn wooden handle and you pull it towards you, stealing his sickle from where it was resting on his hip previously and you look down at him, holding the weapon, his weapon, to his throat. 

A stand off with his hands on your neck and the curved blade pressing into his and you were praying he’d break first. His hands loosened when you broke the skin, his hands didn’t lift but they did ease, sucking down a few deep breaths you keep your eyes on him.

“I’ll do it.” You heaved, hair partially in your face, sweaty and smeared with mud and blood, looking down at him, “Don’t think I won’t.” 

He knew you could. But would you?

Your hips shift and he thinks you might be adjusting, gearing up to do just that but that first move, it was just that, the first of many. It starts easy, a slow rock, “When I knew you were really going to go through with this, I got so excited.”

A laugh breaks out, his hands slip further, truly captivated as you speak while sat astride him, “I mean it is pretty unbelievable. Being cast in a real life horror movie without even being aware I was ever auditioning?” You muse for a moment that your life was the audition you supposed, you continue speaking, “It’s like a dream, a sick, fucked up, totally twisted dream.” 

More moves, an outright roll of your hips and holy shit the realisation hits like a truck, you were grinding on him, you were getting off on this. “You really threw yourself into this! Gave your all, you had us all running scared, trying to figure out where this was going, picking it apart? It’s been ruling my thoughts for weeks.”

A quiet hum leaves you, it appears the seam of your jeans was doing everything for you and surely you had to feel the predicament you were putting him in, he was hanging off your every word, choking you long forgotten as he was starting to strain in his overalls. “Even with all my fantasising about this, I never, ever would have imagined I was the one for you, that I was the one you were doing this for, that it was MY attention you were trying to catch.”

Another strong buck of your hips and a quiet moan slips out before you admit, “Well you sure got it.” 

The urge to touch was too great, his hands locked onto your shoulders and he moves too, grinds up into you and you gasp. Your grip on the handle tightened, you forced your hand down harder, the small split in his skin deepened, blood welling up, beginning to pool in the hollow of his throat and he groaned. “That was the one move you coulda made safely without me slashing your throat wide open so good job.” 

You squirm on top of him, “But you're playing a dangerous game here. Better not move any other part of yourself or I’ll watch the life drain out of you right here.” 

This isn’t at all what he was expecting. 

Would he have loved for this shift to happen between you both eventually? Of course! But on the first night? You holding his weapon to his neck, about to slide deep and ruin him, all while grinding your clothed cunt on his almost painfully hard dick, still trapped in the fabric covering himself, it had him throbbing with need, it was too good to pass up. You’d already been showing him over and over again that true planning was good, necessary, but being able to work on the fly, improv, rolling with the punches had undeniable appeal and deserved its own place. 

So fuck the timing not being what he had initially thought it would be, he let himself indulge. 

The pair of you work together. A precarious and tentative dance, you and he were unable to look away from one another as you ground down and he moved up, working on stimulating yourselves and each other. Leslie was wrecked under you in short order. He had fucked people, of course he had but somehow, some way, this, right now, fully dressed and rutting against each other, caked in dirt and blood on the wet muddy grass just outside the orchard was by far the hottest thing he had ever experienced. 

The reasons as to why were all too obvious. The night, the exchange of power, the first overt expression of your sexuality that he was bearing witness to, the fact it was directed at him. You threatening his life with the sickle you stole off his hip with startling confidence and you, just, fuck, you.

It was doing his head in. Felt like he was somewhere between swimming and drowning, alive and electric. He was panting behind his mask, his breathing matching yours in pace and pitch as he watched, your brow creased, split bottom lip from where he had landed a good hit on you earlier tucked between your teeth. 

He watches the pleasure play out over your face, the emotion tinting in your eyes, you reach forward with your other hand, fingers hook under the bottom of his mask and he tries to turn his head to prevent you seeing his face. He wants it on, wants the game to continue, doesn't want to break the fantasy, you grunt, a shake of your head, “Uh-uh. Don’t fight it.” 

Another push of the sickle makes him relent, a reminder you could end this right here, he doesn’t want that, not yet, not till you fall apart on top of him. He allows you to peel his mask away, tossing it aside. You look down on his sweat stained and made up face. “There you are.” 

You looked pleased to see him, really see him as he was. He pressed down on your shoulders, forced you tighter to him, making it so the grinding on one another was stronger, more pressure, better.  

"Can't hide from me." It leaves you as if it is the sweetest melody, sing-songy and caught in the no-mans-land between a laugh and a moan as you swirl your hips.

The moans were breaking up your panting, you struggle to keep pace, and were you really going to? Was he going to get to not only see you cum while grinding yourself on him but be the reason that you experience such pleasure for the first time from another person? 

It proved too much. He is dragged to the edge in the blink of an eye.

His own head thrown back, hitting the damp ground, tendons in his arms and neck flex, sweat trailing down his temple and the tension breaks. A groan leaves him, his own hips stuttering up into you, eyes can’t leave as you watch him cum into the tight denim concealing him. Your own end is sealed by the knowledge that you made the big bad killer who gutted all your friends tonight bust in his overalls like he was a nervous and inexperienced teenager. 

“I got you.” You taunted, breathlessly before you tumble over the edge into hard earned bliss.

Your peak hits with a weak whimper, the pleasure spikes, back arching and even with your clammy and trembling hand, you manage to move it. You pull, dragging the tip that had already broken the skin earlier slice through. He hadn’t even truly finished cumming when you slashed, you were mid-orgasm yourself when you slowly split his throat open. The move was from left to right and when you reached the opposite side from where you started you jerk the sickle and with a flourish it pulls free, blood splatters over you just as it had to him earlier.

Another roll of your hips, drawing out your pleasure as much as possible, wringing out every ounce of sensation possible from your pulsing clit trapped against your soaked underwear. Your mouth is open, you taste salt and unfiltered him across as your tongue, feel his grip loosen, the sounds of him choking on his own blood and struggling to breathe acting as the soundtrack for your climax, a feast for your eyes as you watch the life drain from him under you, just like you promised earlier.

Sensation reaches it's natural end as does he.

Your hips slow and then eventually stop. Your chest rising and falling, you attempt to catch your breath, you drop his sickle beside him, it hits the ground with a thump .The bloody back of your hand wipes over your forehead, it smears crimson against the slick skin as you move your hair aside. You stay there for a moment. 

Just looking down at him.

Taking it all in. 

The cool evening air on your skin, the quietness of it all now that the struggle is over, the sense of finality. 

You make yourself get up on shaky legs, you move off of him and turn to leave him behind.

Before the entrance of the orchard you pause. A bite of your already hurting bottom lip you can’t help yourself. You turn, look over your shoulder and see he is no longer there. The only clue of your struggle and his body is flattened grass and spilled blood.

A laugh tears out, it makes you roll your eyes fondly, hands stuck in your jeans pockets, you turn forward again, start to walk the way you came in, as you call out, “You son of a bitch, I’ll get you next time!”

You leave with the taste of him still lingering on your tongue, outfit, including your underwear, completely ruined.

He was nearby, already wrapping his throat to stop the bleeding. You did a decent job but you didn’t cut nearly deep enough and missed the major arteries, all the same it was impressive, he couldn’t be happier. Even with the pain, the shaking fingers that were rushing to cover his wound, he smiled. This was going to scar up nicely, the first memento he got to keep from a hopefully long back and forth as slasher and final girl. 

He took off, hand on his throat, holding white that was steadily staining red, making his way to Eugene and Jamie’s to get stitched up properly. He thought about what you called out, he hoped you would get him even worse next time. If you were so smart and savvy your first time out, he can only imagine how you are going to be the following outing you shared, he’d need to plan well, step his game up if he had any hope of measuring up. 

You did have very high expectations and he’d be damned if he couldn’t meet them. 

Were it not for how much he was hurting and the fear that if he did that it would worsen his bleeding he’d be humming, “So This Is Love.”, as the events of the evening already wanted to replay over his mind. 

[canonfatbisexualenby]

🎧 + 🖤 for Harper and Jeff and/or Britta for the ask game !!!

Tysm Rye!

🎧 - is there any music that s/i listens to that youve started to like?

J: Well, obviously I had heard of some of their favorite bands before, like The Beatles! Though they mostly play the Sgt.Pepper album haha! I’ve never heard some of the Mamas & the Papas songs they’ve played for me and Britta.

B: Yes, Mama Cass was so cool! Harper definitely emulates her style sometimes. We both like bands like The Smiths and Hole! But Harper is definitely a bigger Nirvana fan than me or Jeff.

🖤 - has s/i ever told you a specific style of clothing that would look nice on you? what kind?

B: I think they look so cute when they’re dressed casually, especially when they’re in their pajamas or doing housework!

J: I’m a sucker for suits, I’d love to buy them one in the future, I think they’d look gorgeous ❤️

[roppongi-division]

"Do not judge me by my successes, judge me by how many times I fell down and got back up again." - Nelson Mandela

Introduction

Kai Quinlan is the leader of the Roppongi Division rap battle team, Private Party. He is known far and wide by his nickname, Veenyle. A former opera singer trained by his talented, yet overbearing mother, this awe-inspiring DJ gave up opera music the day he received his first sampler. Now, known far and wide all across Japan, he makes a living by entertaining the masses with his radio show during the day, and his stellar turntablism at night.

A man of Japanese and African American descent, Kai is a light brownish man with long grayish-black dreadlocks that go down past his neck to his upper back. He has a full-grown beard and moustache along with sideburns, all of which are the same color as his hair. He has light brown eyes which are often hid behind his black circular-shaped sunglasses. He stands at 6'2" and weighs 195 lb. approximately.

When he isn't DJing, he tends to dress casually. He wears a white tank shirt showing off his muscles and a pair of long black faded jeans with black and blue sneakers. Around his neck are two gold chains. He also has two earrings in his right ear, a gold ball earring in his earlobe, and a gold loop one at the top. Lastly, he sometimes wears a black ball cap on his head.

When he is DJing, he often adopts his 'Wolf of Shadows' persona. As such, he often dresses like a wolf with black wolf ears and a tail attached to his black jeans. On his face is a black Oni mask, which obscures his facial features. He also has a black bandana over his eyes, which, surprisingly, doesn't blind him. He also wears a pair of black headphones with a skull and bones motif on both cups. He also wears a black and red jacket with a black t-shirt underneath. Lastly, he has another gold chain around his neck.

Name Meaning

Kai - A name of various origins. In Japanese, it has a number of meanings, including "ocean" (海), "shell" (貝), "open" (開), "restoration" and "recovery".

Quinlan - A name of Irish and Gaelic origin. It means "descendant of Caoinlean, slender" or "fit, shapely, strong." It is also a form of the name "Quinn".

Aliases:

"Wolf of Shadows" - His stage name

DJ Veenyle - His radio/MC name

"The Multi-Armed DJ"

Pops/Dad - Zakari

Husband/Mi amor - Mireya

Biographical Info

Gender - Male

Age - 34

Birthday - April 16th

Ethnicity - African American

Hair Color - Grayish-Black

Eye Color - Light Brown

Height - 188 cm (6'2")

Weight - 88 kg (195 lb.)

Star Sign - Aries

Piercings - A gold ball earring in his right earlobe, and a gold loop earring at the top of the same ear.

Markings -

A microphone and headphones tattoo on his right arm.

A wolf tattoo covering the majority of his back.

A moon and stars tattoo behind his left ear.

Family -

Mother

Father (Deceased)

Sister

Wife

Adopted Son

Voiced By - Pase Rock (Rapping)

Fun Facts

MC Name - Veenyle

Occupation - Radio Personality/Club DJ

Position - 1st Member/Leader

Favorite Food - New York–style pizza

Least Favorite Food - Pastrami on rye

Likes - DJing, his family, Japan, inventing new music techniques, sunsets, musicians, Japan's nightlife, Roppongi, casinos, wolves, his radio show, Minato City, new music equipment, rap battles, and early mornings.

Dislikes - Lacking inspiration, waking up late, crows, trolls, people who call his show and wastes his time, senseless noise, prima donnas, his son's suicidal tendencies, sweating, and thinking about his past.

Hypnosis Microphone

Kai's Microphone takes the form of a pair of black and gold Bluetooth headphones with LED lights that light up at various intervals.

His Speaker takes the form of a large gold Buddha-esque statue with six arms and a gold vinyl disc on its head, which acts as a halo or a crown. Directly behind the statue is a dharma wheel, which acts as the speaker.

His rap ability, Trance, has his speaker delivering a hypnotic tune that puts one, or all, of his opponent(s) in a sort of trance, making them wander aimlessly and forget what they were doing, effectively making them skip their turn. He can use this continuously, but the downside is that Kai loses a lot of stamina each time.

Kai's rap themes aren't centered solely on one topic. His themes change periodically depending on his mood or situation. Often times, however, he'll often rap about the direction that music is taking, and how it is constantly shifting and changing. He raps about how music has lost its true "spirit" and that we need to "give life back to music". He'll also sometimes rap about his past, the love for his family and the direction that Japan and the world are headed.

Personality

Kai, for the most part, is a rather laid-back individual who tries not to let the stress of life bother him. Despite his intimidating presence and appearance, he tends to be rather level-headed and calm. He tends to be very private, however, especially when it comes to his personal life or his past. Besides those in his inner circle (i.e. his family), he tends to keep most people, even his closest friends, at arm's length to avoid them becoming too close.

Despite that, Kai is not one to shy from something even if it is challenging or uncomfortable, especially conflict. He always tells what he is thinking and doesn't care if what he says is hurtful or rude. The only thing that matters to him is the truth. He'd rather have someone hurt his feelings than lie to him, because at least then, he knows where he and the other individual stands.

It may be due to the fact that he's not stranger to violence, but one of Kai's most well-known traits is that he looks at everything as a competition. And when that happens, he tends to throw everything he has towards winning. Though he won't resort to cheating or deceitfulness, he refuses to hold back to spare the other person's feelings. This often causes others to shy away from Kai, but his family and friends know that is just how he is.

Another aspect of Kai is that he is not content to just be another nameless face in a crowd. He loves to stand out and show just who he is. This may be why he created his alternate persona known as, 'Wolf of Shadows', as it is something that no one has ever done before. He is not an attention hog, but he won't shy away from being recognized when he feels he has earned it.

As stated, Kai is known for being a private person outside of DJing. It is only when he is making music or on the turntables that he reveals himself to others. He loves everything about music, because he feels that he can express himself with his music than he ever can normally. This is something he often expresses in his raps, as he often thinks about the direction that music is heading.

Background

*Coming soon*

Trivia

His MC name, Veenyle, is a homograph of the word, 'vinyl', like 'vinyl records'.

He owns and operates his own Internet radio station, which he calls 'Real Music Radio'. He cites his fanbase as part of his tribe, calling them 'The Wolfpac'.

Besides being a DJ, he is also widely known as an expert music producer. He has worked and produced music with the likes of 86, Vox, Yorii Sakuma, ArgoξOrchestra, and many more.

He also helped to produce most of the songs from HypMic's Collab albums.

Though he'll sometimes travel to different cities and divisions to DJ at clubs or events, he usually sticks to his city of Roppongi.

He is called "The Multi-Armed DJ" not only due to his speaker, but because he seems to "sprout" up to ten arms when he is DJing (Truthfully, he just moves his arms really fast, creating afterimages).

He is a man of many roots, being born Japanese, African American, Native American, and Jamaican (The last three are on his mother's side).

His favorite brand of cigarettes is KOOL Menthol 100s.

It's believed his reason for being forced into joining the D.R.B. by the Party of Words is due to his rap ability, which the Government believes to be a sort of brainwashing, which they hope to utilize for their own benefit.

[touristbree]

Nalo

🐉 Overview 🐉

Name: Nalomauna “Nalo” Woods

Gender: Demigirl (She/Her/They/Them)

Sexuality: Bisexual

Info:

Nalo is a student of Naranja Academy from Alola, and president of a Pokemon racing club she started: The Comets. She takes the place of the main character for Pokémon Scarlet (but doesn’t perfectly slide into the role). She’s also a boss of Team Star, and specializes in Dragon-Dark Types, and she has prosthetic legs.

She leads the Polaris Squad, located just outside Alfornada protecting a mountain top spring (where Nalo had a secret garden). The base has a reputation of being strong but also super chill unless threatened.

🐉 Personality 🐉

Nalo’s personality is very similar to Holden Caulfield from “Catcher in The Rye”. When you first meet her, she’s typically annoyed and hates interacting with other people. But her rough exterior is more so a defensiveness against being hurt by others. She hates therapy because it makes her feel like some experiment, and she has a habit of getting defensive when people get close to her issues.

She’s Native Alolan and is very dedicated to preserving Alolan culture.

She’s slowly learning about herself and she likes more “girly outfits” casually.

🐉 Relationships 🐉

Nalo loves her Uncle Kuahi Woods… except she never met him. He worked for the International Police and supposedly died in a car crash some years before she was born. When she was born, her grandpa noticed how much she resembled him and named her “Nalomauna” in respect to him (Her name means “Lost Mountain”. “Kuahi” is Hawaiian for “Somewhere”, and is short for “Hua Kuahiwi”, which combined with his last name makes: “Wood’s Hau Kuahiwi”, the nickname for “Hibiscadelphus woodii”, a plant species that was believed to be extinct, until 2019 when three individuals were found on a cliffside). She also had a close relationship with her grandfather who died when she was young, he always taught her about Alolan history and beliefs.

Nalo joined Team Star sometime after coming to Paldea and is close to all the bosses. She likes hearing Atticus ramble about art, she affectionately teases Giacomo a lot, Ortega loves racing her and they’re friendly rivals, and Eri often tries to keep her from getting hurt or in danger (but nothing can stop Nalo from having her fun)…. They also just straight-up fight sometimes. She’s closest to Mela who developed a crush on her, they’re just a pair of chaos-causing friends.

Nalo helped Penny bring down Team Star to protect them, and between missions became close friends with her. Nalo affectionately teases her and visits her a lot, and usually likes helping her pull pranks. After Starfall, not much changes, she still teases Penny, but they just have the addition of being members of Team Star.

She befriends Arven after she discovers Toothless (more on him later) and they slowly bond as they battled Titans and collected Herba Mystica. Neglectful mothers and absent fathers make them sympathize with each other, and mutual teasing and friendly fights make them best friends. They also mutually call “bullshit” on each other when the other starts going quiet about stuff that’s bothering them.

Nemona and her are rivals to enemies to friends to girlfriends. Nemona’s cheery and sunny disposition clashes with Nalo’s cynicism, but they get along it’s part of the reason why they like each other. Nemona often tries to get Nalo to see the bright side and be a part of the school community, and Nalo gives Nemona the brutal honesty she needs sometimes. She and Nemona start dating sometime during Teal Mask (which I place after Indigo Disk) after both realizing how much they loved the other’s company.

Nurse Miriam was the first adult that Nalo felt she can talk to honestly. She visited Miriam’s office very often, be it to talk or because she crashed Toothless again and the two developed a genuine mother-daughter relationship. Nalo’s mom wanted her to return home at one point so she wouldn’t have to pay for dorms, but Miriam stepped in and let Nalo live with her, Ms. Dendra and Tulip (Miriam, Dendra, and Tulip are one big poly relationship and no one can stop me), and after some time, Miriam does adopt Nalo.

As for her other two moms: Dendra tries to get her pumped up and is usually the one to get her out of the bed in the morning when Nemona can’t. She initially hated Tulip when she challenged her gym, but communication is a thing and their relationship slowly improving, Nalo slowly learning about make-up from Tulip.

🐉 Team 🐉

Toothless is a koraidon and Nalo’s ace pokemon. Nalo saw Toothless fall out of the sky and was quick to investigate, she had some food with her which she used to heal him… and accidentally formed a bond with him. She tried returning him to Arven, but he refused to go back with Arven so she begrudgingly brought him home with her. He was her only other pokemon when she was in Team Star, and kept him out of his pokeball a lot, she formally named him after she was kicked out of Team Star, he comforted her, and she learned how to ride him (I’ll explain later). She rid various pokemon in Alola but mastered driving Toothless, often scaring people by running at them at top speed and leaping over them, and Toothless loves it. He’s also a big cat who steals her things and insists on getting the most attention from others, he’s often the one who keeps her in check and makes sure she doesn’t over exert herself.

Misteria is her shiny Meowscarada and is second to Toothless. She was given Misteria at an event for abroad students, Miriam gave Nalo Misteria as the other starters didn’t seem to like her and Misteria refused to even come out of her cage. She loves being a mischievous little gremlin, and hates to be touched, being defensive since her shiny coloration made her the target for hunters. Nalo is the only one who may pet her.

Haki ʻāʻī is Nalo’s Talonflame and the main form of air transport. Haki ʻāʻī found Nalo as she tried to out speed Toothless as a fletchling, which made Nalo want to catch her. Haki ʻāʻī helped her through the gym circuit and is her fastest-flying pokemon. Haki ʻāʻī is Toothless’ main rival.

Dusty is a Midnight Lycanroc that Nalo tripped on her way to Cortondo, and his love of digging soon caught her heart. He’s great at solo ground races, his main strategy being to dig under his opponent and trip them.

Haehae is a Garchomp that Nalo caught on her gym circuit, specifically in Colonnade Hollow where it challenged Toothless, believing him to be a worthy opponent. But Toothless developed a crush on Haehae and makes Haehae a little cuddlier. Haehae is one of Nalo’s strongest pokemon, being a member of the team she uses as a Team Star boss.

Creciente is a Roaring Moon she caught post-Area Zero when some Paradox pokemon were slowly escaping Area Zero and Her, Nemona, Penny, Arven, and Team Star teamed up to capture the escapees. She thought it was so cool she just had to keep it, and it’s part of her Team Star Team which consists of Toothless, Haehae, and Him.

Some Misc. Pokémon that she has but doesn’t exactly use for her main team are:

- Makua, an Alolan Meowth who follows her from Alola. Meowths always followed her back in Alola like guardian angels watching over her. This one followed her all the way to Paldea, it tries staying hidden but will happily cuddle up with her on stormy nights.

- Ola is a Lurantis who protects her mountain top garden. She caught it as a Fomantis because it reminded her of home in Alola.

- Akahele, an Absol she befriended in Alola years ago and reunited with several years later. She tries her best to keep Nalo out of danger… but it’s tough.

- Enekini is her dragon type Starmobile, it has the ability rain dish and knows rain dance.

🐉 Backstory 🐉

Growing up in Alola, Nalo struggled in every social department: Her mother often neglected her, her love of chaos scared potential friends away, and her love of chaos made other kids warn each other about her. She was 10 during the events of Sun and Moon and was attacked by a ‘Monster’ during said events, being trapped under rubble, and she was found a week later, she had to have her legs amputated due to infection which is when she met my OC Ilex who built her a pair of legs that could “pass” for real ones when covered.

She was expelled from various schools across Alola, with her most recent expulsion being for riding a Tauros through the halls of the school (she asserts no one was harmed and there was minimal property damage). This was the last straw for Nalo’s mother who was now threatening to send her to the International Police Youth Agent Academy, which Nalo saw as a death sentence, and if she was expelled from her next school, she’d be sent straight to the academy.

She was sent to Paldea, met Penny on the bus ride from the airport, and met Nemona while she was moving into her new dorm. It was also at her dorm that she noticed something falling out of the sky, she rushed to investigate and discovered Toothless, feeding him a bit of a sandwich she was saving for breakfast. Toothless was thankful, and Nalo’s kindness made him want to stick with her, much to her reluctance. She also met Arven who tried taking Toothless back… but Toothless wanted to be with Nalo, so she kept him.

There was a starter pokemon event where she met Miriam and got Misteria… but it was outside the event that she met Mela who went on to introduce her to the rest of Team Star. She arrived in Paldea mid-summer and spent the rest of the summer and some of the first months at school bonding with Team Star. What made her leave was Clavell’s threat to expel Team Star

She couldn’t admit why she was leaving the team, but Mela had a crush and her heartbreak was masked by anger which led to her saying Nalo had declared war on them. She escaped on Toothless’ back… and she cried on a nearby hill, Toothless comforted her, and she gave him his name.

The Treasure Hunt begins and she decides to do the gym circuit since it reminded her of the Island Challenge (when she isn’t a fan of battling), which made Nemona excited, hoping she had the potential for a friend and rival. Arven asked for her help in defeating titans, Cassiopeia recruited her to Operation Starfall, and she now got to go through the main game of Pokemon Scarlet. I won’t go into detail, but let me highlight some moments in each storyline:

She and Arven didn’t get along during their first Titan, but she quickly changed her tune when she learned he was trying to heal his Mabosstiff and apologized for being an ass. She saw right through Clavell’s disguise but just rolled with it. She had a hard time battling her former friends, wishing she could hang out with them again. She hates Tulip and Iono, and has mixed feelings about the other gym leaders, but despised how set Nemona was on making them her rival.

The day soon came when she had to battle the Elite Four… at the same time Arven was taking on the last titan and that night she’d battle Cassiopeia. The Elite Four was tough and she kept nearly losing and kept getting worried for her teammates, Nemona talks to her before she can battle Geeta… and she blows up at Nemona: She doesn’t want to battle and she doesn’t want to be molded into Nemona’s ideal friend, so she abandons the gym circuit completely. She gets to Arven, and they defeat the Fake Dragon Titan and save Mabosstiff.

She has the battle with Cassiopeia, learning it’s Penny, and watches as Team Star reunites. Clavell takes back his threat of expulsion and brings up the Star Training Centers. Nalo is set to leave… but Mela reveals she told the others the situation and she’s welcomed back into the team with open arms.

Now For Area Zero!

She got a strange call one morning from Sada… Arven got it too, they now had to go down to Area Zero, and Nalo recruited Penny to help hack for the team, and Nemona overheard their plans, threatened to tell Clavell, and joined too. Nalo tries to keep Toothless calm but he hides away, and Arven and Penny’s fighting means she assigns herself as the team captain as they venture down, learning about Arven’s mom and the paradox pokemon. Penny and Arven bond, Nemona and Nalo salvage their friendship, and Nalo discovers the truth about Arven’s mom, confronting the android built in her image and she trusts Nemona to take on the final battle and command Toothless’ battle form.

Afterward, she gives Arven time to heal, and Nemona formally apologizes for trying to mold Nalo into her rival and agrees to do something Nalo likes… she regrets it immediately as Nalo takes her on a ride on Toothless where they nearly die multiple times. She realizes her love of speed and starts a racing club at Naranja Academy: The Comets. Giacomo and Ortega are the first members.

[caxycreations]

Tylvinian Tales: The Wolf's Den

Chapter Ten: Separation

Ferusian Law, Fourth Sequence, Article 1: Law of Discretion

Ferusian Law Enforcement (Agents) are entitled to handle situations as they see fit. Agents are legally recognized to, in life-or-death situations, act in the role of judge, jury, and, if need be, executioner.

Citizens defying orders or disputing judgement of an Agent during an active case are subject to fair trial to determine if their insubordination is legally just.

Citizens may also submit case tickets via any Agency headquarters post-case if they feel the Agent(s) involved worked outside the bounds of legal justifications.

Citizens found guilty of unjust insubordination or submitting false tickets may be imprisoned for up to ten years.

The rest of the day had gone by peacefully, the night following suit. I'd fallen asleep to the sound of the TV playing Lucky Duke in the living room, David quoting along, singing the theme. I'd fallen asleep with a smile on my face, listening to his joy, his entertainment.

Ocean, all around me. I was here again, a panic in my chest, lungs burning for air. I let myself breath in deeply, water filling my chest...and cooling it. Comforting it. I swam upward, letting myself breath carefully, slowly. As I breached the surface, I took in a deep breath...And found myself hacking up water, diving below and breathing in deeply again.

As long as I did so, I was alright. Breathe in, let it out. In. Out. Slow. Steady. I let the water hold me, caress me. I felt it relax my muscles, my nerves, the current and flow loosening tensions I hadn't even realized I was carrying. A gentle embrace. I looked at the surface, seeing those familiar dark shapes atop the water. Boats, sailing across the ocean peacefully.

I looked to the nearest one, barely twenty feet ahead of me. I was just below the surface, watching. That dark figure, the one that saved me before, manifested on the deck and stared down at me, blue eyes shining from the shadows of its form. It began to float towards me, settling onto the surface of the water.

It stepped lightly, dark paws padding across the top of the water, as if the waves and current were solid flooring. It stood above me, looking down into my eyes. I swear I saw it smile. A familiar, sideways grin, boyish and playful, but full of a joy I could feel in my bones just seeing it.

For a moment, it almost looked like-

I woke suddenly, jolting up and looking around. I'd been disturbed by something, and looking over, I found the source of my sudden awakening. David was sitting on the edge of my bed, yawning and stretching. His tail was curled loosely around his waist, not tight like his panics, but rather out of convenience. He felt me jolt, looking behind himself and smiling.

"Morning, Rye. Nightmare?" He asked, letting out a soft mrow of concern. I shook my head and he smiled again, flopping backwards, his head landing firmly in my lap atop the blankets covering me. "Good, you looked like you were sleeping suuuuper good last night, it would've sucked if you'd woken up cause of something scary!"

His voice was dry, tone lower than usual. Still boyish, but with a distinctly masculine sound to it. It almost didn't suit him. Almost. I smiled at him and reached down to brush his hair a little, getting it out of his face. He huffed indignantly and sat up, shaking his head wildly before giggling, hair messy and going in all directions before he smoothed it out into his signature style.

He hopped up and I finally took note of what he was wearing, or rather...What he wasn't. He casually skipped over to my closet, wasting no time grabbing a pair of his pants from the shelf he used for his spare clothes. I found myself watching, half in awe at his brazen display and half in shock that he had slept like that next to me.

He wiggled his hips as he pulled the jeans on, making them slip on easier. He turned to face me and giggled. "Thanks for snuggling me last night, by the way...I mean, I know you were asleep, but...Still! I kinda needed it, I didn't have any nightmares last night." He said with a grateful smile. I just shook my head, clearing it of any...disrespectful thoughts.

"No problem, sleepin' or not, I reckon I could tell ya needed the comfort. Could probably smell th' stress comin' off ya." I said groggily, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I sat up, turning to sit on the edge of the bed, paws resting against the floor as I double-checked I hadn't pitched any unwanted tents, then stood, stretching. My back popped a few times, as did one of my knees, and I sighed, grumbling a little. David may have slept well, but I certainly hadn't, my chest feeling tight and sore, shoulders tenser than usual, and my legs felt weak. Something had kept me from resting, from being comfortable. I rubbed the back of my neck and sighed, heading for the closet as David brushed past me, half nuzzling my shoulder on the way by.

I grabbed my clothes, had a quick shower, and met David in the living room. He was already watching Lucky Duke, and I passed the couch with a smile, leaning over the back of it. David's legs dangled off the edge, tail lazily draped across it and over one couch arm as he leaned forward. He looked so small on my couch, the furniture having been designed for my family. Greatwolf-sized furniture and he was such a small caxy, vulnerable. His slim, feminine figure, his arms, so much weaker than my own. His fingers were suited to delicate work, precise and deft, and his legs, despite his regular jogs, were soft and the calves, the thighs, were more pliant than muscled. He would be so easy to simply pick up and carry away for so, so many Sentients. I felt a growl well up in my throat, remembering that tonight he would be with Trace and Moss, in some abandoned place, too far for me to track him down if he needed me. 

He heard it, and looked up. Those eyes, wide with curiosity and concern, the childlike quality to them, the gentle glow and the spark of joy, slowly fizzling away in the face of my loss of control. I smiled, looking down at him and gesturing vaguely to the TV.

"Sorry man, always did hate them Vannerhut fellas." I said casually, trying to explain away my growl. He looked to the TV, raising an eyebrow and looking back up at me.

"But...it's...Vauneghaut, and...They're not even in this episode." He responded, turning to face me a little more properly. "What's on your mind, big guy? C'mon, you didn't even nudge me when I brushed against you earlier, and now you're getting growly. Talk to me, please?" He pleaded. Looking into his eyes, my shoulders sagged, a sigh escaping my lips. Nothing like a begging caxy to deflate my resolve.

"Jus' worried 'bout the trip you're takin' tonight. Don't suppose I could tag along, could I?" I asked, half-hoping I could. He smiled, but I could see his brows furrow upward and his eyelids drop ever so slightly. 

"I wish you could but Trace's car doesn't have room and if something goes wrong I don't want your truck there to get plated..." He said as his smile faded.

I nodded and sighed, standing upright and ruffling his hair as I stepped away, heading for the kitchen. "Was 'fraid ya might have some reason like that. Half-hoped there wasn't some justification t'keep me away."

He paused the TV, heading over to the bar counter and watching me rummage through the fridge. I could see him in my peripheral vision, and there was a bitter scent in the air. Stress. I could smell the stress coming off of him. I sighed, shutting the fridge and looking over at him, my eyes locked on his. I held his stare for what felt like an eternity, his eyes wider by the second even as he seemed to shrink back on the stool.

"R-...Ryder?" He asked, letting out a soft, timid mrow.

"I don't want you goin' t'that place with them." I said matter-of-factly. I furrowed my brow, averting my gaze and huffing, walking out of the kitchen. I sat beside him and kept my eyes locked on the counter. He tried to reach over, but I leaned away, closing my eyes for a moment. A thousand thoughts ran through my head. What if they were caught? What if he were arrested? Sent to jail? What if they stumbled in on some kind of criminal deal, or a hideout for thugs? What if they were attacked along the way, or something went wrong with the stability of the building? Collapsed beams, falling walkways, there were no ends to the ways it could go wrong. "It's too dangerous, an' ya ain't lettin' me go with ya. So don't go."

He looked at me with wide eyes, and I could see his expression was uncertain, scared, surprised, from the corner of my eye. "Ryder...You've never gotten upset about these trips before..." He said, voice soft and hesitant.

"I didn't know before! Ain't even heard'a y'all doin' this 'til now!" I growled angrily, only to catch myself, snapping my jaws shut and closing my eyes, trying to keep a lid on myself. Anger might be easy for me, but David didn't deserve it. Not him. Never him. "I jus'...I don't want ya gettin' hurt, an' if I'd known 'fore now I'd have...I dunno." I said, sighing. My shoulders, tense and lifted, sagged now in defeat. "Promise me you'll be safe, an' if anythin' goes wrong, you call me. If'n ya can't call me, y'run straight here, an' ya don't stop for nothin' or no one." I said half-desperately. I needed to know he would be okay. I needed him to be okay.

David looked at me, almost shocked. "Buh...What about Moss? Trace?" He was about to speak again, but my instincts got the better of me, my emotions flaring as I struck the counter with my fist, cracking the marble.

"Promise me! Trace'll be fine, Moss'll keep Trace safe with that Blessin'a theirs, an' long as Trace is safe, Moss will be too. I can rely on'im for that much, but I don't-" I stopped short, gritting my teeth and trying to measure my tone. "I don't...I don't trust him t'do th'same with you. An' unlike Trace, th'kid ain't 'round ya often 'nuff t'let that luck rub off on ya." I said softly. I hated this. I hated losing control against him, I hated being so weak, so vulnerable. So scared. I hated it more than anything else. He looked at me, almost scared, and nodded.

"Okay. Okay, I promise. Anything happens, straight to you, just please calm down..." He begged, hesitantly reaching for my shoulder again. I felt his hand on my shoulder. That small palm, those soft pads. The thin, delicate digits against me. He was warm. Soft. Gentle. Fragile. Wea-

I shook my head, resting my head on the counter and looking a thousand miles ahead for a moment before closing my eyes again. He wasn't weak. Fragile, maybe at times. But not weak. "Sorry. I'm gonna work on a lil music. Let me know when Trace is here t'pick ya up for th'trip. Don't want ya leavin' on bad terms, 'specially not without sayin' somethin'." I said quietly, standing up and heading for my office. I heard him start to say something and cut himself short, and I could feel the shadow between us. Shadow. The faintest hint of a memory, foggy and weak, crept into my mind. A shadow figure, with brilliant blue eyes, smiling proudly as I drifted below the surface of an ocean. I ignored the memory, putting my thoughts towards music as I headed into my studio room. I put my headphones on, turned on my desktop, and set to work. I needed to cool off. I needed to be ready to see David off on good terms, with a smile, with courage. There was no way in Hell that I would send him away tonight with this argument being the last thing.

And all the while, a strong, familiar, bitter scent filled the house.

Hours passed, and I put away my headphones, stretching my arms and sighing in satisfaction. I'd finished a few songs I'd been working on for months, and made progress on a few more. I shut down the desktop and left the studio, twisting my back a little to pop it as I went to check on David. He was laying on the couch, a bored, dark expression on his face. Over time the scent of stress had faded, but as I got closer to him it grew strong again. He looked bored, his posture relaxed, loose, his expression calm, neutral. But there was no denying the scent. 

I sat by his paws on the couch, looking over at him. My mood had lifted during my work, but seeing the state he'd been left in, I felt that relaxation fade, giving way to tension. "Davey? You okay?" I asked.

He looked over at me, then back to the TV and sighed. "No, I'm not. I'm not okay at all. You yelled at me, and you scared me, and intimidated me into making you a promise I wasn't comfortable making. You did all of that, and then...And then you just walked away. You didn't like how you were feeling, and you just left. For being so worried about what someone else might do to me, you didn't seem to care all that much about what YOU did to me." He said coldly. My ears flattened back, lips parting. I had been so focused on trying to prevent him being hurt tonight, so focused on trying to keep him safe tonight, that I hadn't considered what I was doing to him now.

I tried to find the words, to explain my actions. I tried to tell him I was sorry, that I was caught up in the moment and afraid and tense. I tried so very hard. I failed.

Words wouldn't come. He looked at me for a moment that felt like eternity, his stare stirring a memory of another dream, that shadow figure, staring me down. I looked away, blinking away the burning sensation in my eyes. He sighed, sitting up and pausing the TV. "Ryder, what am I to you?" He asked. It was a simple question, but had a very difficult answer. I thought, and furrowed my brow.

"You're my best friend. Important t'me. Ya been there since day one, an' I can't picture a world that don't include David Seltz in it. Ya mean th'world t'me." I answered, looking back over at him. I looked down a moment, eyes locked on the floor before glancing back at him. "If'n y'wanna know what ya are t'me, then all I got t'say is that you're someone I wanna see safe an' protected. Happy."

He crossed his arms, and for a moment his eyes shone, as if they were wet, but he blinked a few times and looked away. "...Thank you." He said plainly, standing up and going to the door to my bedroom. He stopped at the door, looking back at me. "Trace will be here in three hours. I'm taking a nap. I'm still upset with you, I don't like this, I don't like being treated like some...glass doll. I'm okay. I'll be fine. This is the thousandth time we've done this, and this is the third time we've gone here. I don't..." He sighed, shaking his head and putting a hand on the doorway, "...I don't think it's worth getting so worked up over, Rye. And I don't think it's worth us being at odds." He looked at me sadly and then opened my bedroom door. "Can...You cuddle me? Please?"

I couldn't turn him down with his voice so sad. I nodded, standing up and following him to the bedroom. He tossed his shirt onto the dresser and laid down on the bed, curling up under the covers. I lay behind him, laying an arm around him and drawing him in closer. I couldn't deny it anymore. I was scared. Scared he'd get hurt. Scared I'd lose him. Scared I'd lose my best friend. Scared I'd lose my caxy.

My caxy?

I had never thought of David like that before. I'd called him that, jokingly, at opportune times for the humor. I'd never said it sincerely. Never thought it so seriously. I closed my eyes and took in his scent, memorizing it entirely. The scent of his shampoo, his perfume, his natural scent. The remnants of fabric from his shirt, the denim of his jeans. I took it in, let it circulate. If anything did happen, I wanted to be certain I could follow him wherever he may be. I didn't know why I was so hellbent on it. Call it instinct, I guess. But I wasn't about to let David go off tonight without doing everything in my power to make sure he would make it back here safely by the end of the night.

He nestled in close to me, his tail curling tightly around my leg. I could see the glow of his eyes, they weren't closed yet. I started to speak, stopping as I heard him do the same. "Ryder, do you love me?" he asked softly. I thought for a minute, and gave the only answer that came to mind.

"Yeah man, I reckon I do. You're like a lil brother, been there all my life an' I've always been there t'watch out for ya. Always will be." I said. The words were honest, but even as I spoke them I felt a pang of something in my chest, an ache and a coldness that left me feeling...wrong. I looked down at the caxy snuggled up against me, and for the first time in my life I felt strange taking in the sight. I felt too close. Too far. It felt...intimate. Forbidden. Right. I sighed, resigning myself to processing all of this while David was away tonight. Closing my eyes, I let myself relax. I wasn't tired, but I could feel sleep creeping in, and had no reason to fight it. David would wake me when he got up, and if he didn't then his alarms would.

As I drifted away, David spoke. His voice was soft, quiet. "I love you, Ryder."

I heard it, the words drifting into my head and out again, sleep claiming me before I could take in the words, the meaning, before I could even recognize the tone.

As I opened my eyes, I found myself somewhere familiar, surrounded by water with dark shapes far above...

[welcometomybraincomics]

Wandering traveler [Cross culture/stations]

Wandering trader, Riot, (stationer; one man traveling) aboard and Autobot ship killed a Decepticon for plans to murder. Kills by extracting spark and takes the spark to a spark eater friend of theirs

*sudden call from the ship they’re approaching * “Stop! Don’t get any closer! Whatever you have on that ship has way too much energy.”

*surprised* “oh, you can sense us from this far away?” *to himself* “Huh. I would have thought the radius was smaller” *back to Stringent the spark eater* “Yes, alright, stoping advancement. What you’re feeling is the rest of the crew, by the way. They’re all unarmored.”

*squaks in disbelief* “You camn’t bring unguarded younglings near me, what are you thinking!?”

“They’re hardly younglings, darling, they’re practically twice my age.” *rolls his ryes* “though looking at their faces, you really wouldn’t be able to tell, hm?” *he leans on the consul and half turns to give the mecha behind him a dramatic side eye. He turns back to the view scream and casually waves* “they’re Autobots.”

*takes a deep breath and resists the urge to scream* “You said you have something for me”

“Oh yes. It’s the spark of a mech who was plotting to hurt younglings.” *nodds head back* “these ones specifically. I thought you might like something other than those energy substitutes you get from Station 5. I know energy’s just energy, but I’ve seen they way your face changes when you eat a spark from actual mecha” *hefts the container onto the consul *

R: “And I was exiled for suspected murder, but you still let my on your ship.”

S: “You’re not the type to murder.”

R:  “Stringent, you’re a spark eater. You abhor death and violence, but you eat people’s cores anyway. You of all mecha should know that given the right incentive, everyone’s a murderer.”

S:  “You’d torture them so they wished they were dead.” *squints*

R:  *shrugs* “Mmm, fair enough, but my statement remains true. Given the right incentive, I will kill. It’s just that no one’s found it yet.”

Riot is a trader: unaffiliated. Raised on ideals of Stations 5 and 6 in a traveling ship with a crew of Approx 12 minus he and his brother, the only children in the ship (they were an accident). He has a Decepticon badge that he took from one of his deceased creators after he died from a disease while his brother got an Autobot symbol from their other creator who dies from the same thing. The two adults had long taken off their badges because they thought it caused needless separation between the Station population, but they never got rid of them.

*at a fighting ring where a Stationer is fighting a cybertronian*

Wandering traveler, Riot: *gleeful cheering* Woooh! Rip his arms off!!!

95: *yelling back, laughing* Riot, that’s lethal for them!

Wandering traveler, Riot: Oh... never mind then, don’t rip their arms off! *laughter* Go 95!

Traveler’s name is Riot, his brother’s name is Hold Out

Riot’s daughter is still a sparkling. She’s born a flier, so to pick her up without messing with her wings, Riot picks her up by her neck like a cat. Based off of 6th naming conventions, his daughter’s name is Trina (nicknames Treeny)

----

For a little more context look at Robits, The Epic Train Wreck Dumpsterfire of a Transformers sidestory AU

[dailypsyfacts]

Treating Mental Health Disorders With LSD?

Welcome to my second blog post! Today, I brought an interesting topic that has gained some attention in the media recently. It’s about the legalisation of LSD in Australia. Just a disclaimer, this is not a promotion for drugs! This is only legal in a clinical setting with a professional supervisor accompanying the process. Sorry to disappoint. So, how come Australia is the only country where LSD has been legalised?

It all started when Swiss chemist Albert Hofmann (1906-2008) accidentally discovered that lysergic acid diethylamide (LSD) has hallucinogenic effects. He and Western scientists then started to research the psychedelic substance for medical purposes. LSD had already been marketed as a treatment for anxiety disorders and for use in psychiatric research by the pharmaceutical firm – Sandoz – Hofmann worked for. Unfortunately, LSD soon became a drug of recreational use outside the scientific realm. Its purpose then quickly went from potential therapeutic effects to inducing an altered state of consciousness purely for pleasure and casual use. Hence, it’s been banned in the late 1960’s which also stopped the medical research in psychedelic substances. However, the research into LSD came back again in the 1990’s and has gradually increased since then (Houseofswitzerland.org, 2020).  

It turns out Albert Hofmann accidentally synthesised LSD when working on a parasitic fungus that grows on rye in 1938. A few years later, in 1943, he must have accidentally absorbed a trace of the substance as he started to feel strange sensations. These sensations, however, raised his interest in the chemical, so he decided to run more tests. At some point, he intentionally ingested what he thought was a tiny amount (0.25 mg) for the first time without knowing what it would do. He would soon find out, when he experienced the first ‘bad trip’ in history of LSD when he made his way home on his bicycle, that this was a massive dose. He described his surroundings as a parallel universe with distorted pictures. It’s a good job his laboratory assistant was with him as he couldn’t remember cycling home but rather felt like he couldn’t move from the spot – despite a very rapid journey according to his assistant. Interestingly, he mentioned that he felt completely powerless in terms of using his mental abilities to sort of ‘wake up’ or put an end to this. No matter how much physical or perceived energy he would try to force, it was useless. He also mentioned the dissolution of his ego. Hofmann’s conclusion was that LSD is too risky outside of a controlled environment and was therefore against the recreational use of LSD, but he did say that it always has its place for the purpose of exploring the human soul and coping with life’s anxieties (Houseofswitzerland.org, 2020).

This nicely leads into my next point as it is precisely the reason it has been legalised in Australia. Just last month, on February 3, 2023, the Therapeutic Goods Administration (TGD) in Australia has officially allowed the psychedelics MDMA and psilocybin for medical use as of July 1, 2023. MDMA – otherwise known as the active ingredient in ecstasy – and psilocybin – the active ingredient in magic mushrooms – will be treatment options for PTSD and treatment-resistant depression, respectively. Precisely, Australia has authorised MDMA which mimics LSD in a way by invoking feelings of depersonalisation and altered perception and thought without the overt hallucinatory effects which doesn’t make it a classical psychedelic. Researchers assume that MDMA acts by increasing the reuptake and release of serotonin, dopamine and norepinephrine. Another factor may be an enhanced release of oxytocin. The results of studies involving MDMA show highly significant results that almost make you wonder why they’re not used more often around the world. It only took three MDMA-assisted therapy sessions for 67% of participants to no longer qualify for a PTSD diagnosis (MAPS, 2021). 88% of participants within the same study significantly reduced their symptoms. Jennifer Mitchell, lead author of the paper, says that what seems to make MDMA so effective is that it raises compassion and understanding while reducing fear. Other studies came to the same conclusion of substantial clinical benefit and a cost-saving effect for third-party payers (Marseille et al., 2020). Especially, PTSD patients with a dissociative subtype seem to show great results. Mitchell further notes that MDMA may help patients to confront and overcome their trauma instead of distancing themselves from a trauma and avoiding to cope with it, if the right mindset and an appropriate environmental (clinical) setting is given (Mackenzie, 2021). This could be what Hofmann was implying by exploring the human soul and coping with life’s anxieties.

Psilocybin, too, includes LSD and even the neurotransmitter serotonin. Dephosphorisation leads to the psychedelic being able to cross the blood-brain barrier and can easily activate the serotonin 5-HT2A receptor given its structural similarity (Mackenzie, 2021). By activating this specific receptor, scientists assume that this activates the psychedelic effects. However, these effects are highly dose-dependent which is why heightened perception, imagery, complex hallucinations and distortions can occur if measured inappropriately. Scientists theorise that psilocybin alters the thalamic gating in the brain and increases the activity in the prefrontal cortex, which is impaired in patients with depression (Mackenzie, 2021). Psilocybin has been directly compared to the selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor (SSRI) escitalopram in a clinical trial. The result was that psilocybin could keep up with the antidepressant effects and may even invoke a deeper and faster effect (Carhart-Harris et al., 2021). However, only 59 people took part which lowered the power and significance of the study.

This raises the question then why drugs like alcohol or sugar are legal, when LSD-involving psychedelics such as MDMA and psilocybin and their possible benefits aren’t?  

Indeed, psilocybin is illegal mostly worldwide, but has been decriminalised in several cities in the US over the past few years (Mackenzie, 2021). However, Western countries such as Australia experience an overwhelming number of drug-related deaths that are caused by alcohol and tobacco – both legal drugs (Parliament of Australia, 2023). Meanwhile, LSD is classified as a narcotic worldwide, except for Australia. A 2007 study by Professor Nutt and colleagues proposed a ‘drug harm ranking’ that compares the harms caused by a range of drugs, legal as well as illegal. Specifically, alcohol is placed on rank five of the most harmful drugs right after heroin, cocaine, barbiturates and methadone. It is noticeable that alcohol and tobacco are ranked much higher than LSD and ecstasy which are ranked at 14 and 18 (Nutt et al, 2007). Professor Nutt criticises that alcohol and tobacco should not be seen as non-drugs. Therefore, Nutt et al. promote a relative approach that compares both, legal and illegal drugs, to not isolate only the illegal ones as it can lessen the harmful effects of legal drugs, such as alcohol and tobacco. They also recommend educating the public on relative harms, rather than just selected harms. I would argue that people simply don’t want to know about the harms of legal drugs as it is too comfortable not to. People are usually used to having a beer or a glass of wine in Western cultures. If it’s just that, the harms should not be too bad. However, people don’t need a prescription for alcohol or tobacco, unless they’re underage, which means that those legal drugs are always available in huge quantities. However, it is interesting that sugar is not listed within this table which may imply that sugar is not seen as a harmful drug per se. Can sugar not be harmful when consuming too much of it after an exhausting day? Sugar can possibly develop into an addiction too (Ahmed et al., 2013). Limited evidence shows that sugar activates the same reward and craving systems that addictive drugs induce. An evolutionary explanation can give insight. Within the evolutionary environment, humans have developed a preference for foods high in sugar and calories in order to survive. Today, we need to stop eating sugar in order to survive. Physical consequences, such as obesity, are known to decrease our health.

Overall, the same rule that applies to almost everything is that the potency makes the difference. If the dose of LSD is too high, unwanted effects, such as hallucinations, may arise. However, this should not be the case in clinical settings. The highly significant results of clinical trials investigating the effects of psychedelics, such as reducing anxiety and symptoms of PTSD, must be recognised. Maybe Australia only made the first step and more counties will consider using psychedelics to treat mental health disorders.  

References

Ahmed, S.H., Guillem, K., Vandaele, Y. (2013) ‘Sugar addiction: pushing the drug-sugar analogy to the limit’ Current Opinion in Clinical Nutrition & Metabolic Care 16 (4), 434-439.

Carhart-Harris, R., Giribaldi, B., Watts, R., Baker-Jones, M. et al. (2021) ‘Trial of Psilocybin versus Escitalopram for Depression’ The New England Journal of Medicine; 384:1402-1411. Doi: 10.1056/NEJMoa2032994  

Mackenzie, R.J. (2021) ‘An introduction to Five Psychedelics: Psilocybin, DMT, LSD, MDMA and KEtamine’ Technology Networks. Neuroscience News & Research. https://www.technologynetworks.com/neuroscience/articles/an-introduction-to-five-psychedelics-psilocybin-dmt-lsd-mdma-and-ketamine-355897

MAPS’ Phase 3 Trial of MDMA-Assisted Therapy for PTSD Achieves Successful Results for Patients with Severe, Chronic PTSD. (2021)

Marseille E, Kahn JG, Yazar-Klosinski B, Doblin R. (2020) The cost-effectiveness of MDMA-assisted psychotherapy fort he treatment of chronic, treatment-resistent PTSD. PLoS One 15(10): e0239997. Doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0239997

Minet, P. (2017) ‘The Swiss beginning of LSD’ Translation based on an article by Pascaline Minet published in Le Temps. https://houseofswitzerland.org/swisssttories/history/swiss-beginnings-lsd

Nutt, D., King, L.A., Saulsbury, W., Blakemore, C. (2007) ‘Development of a rational scale to assess the harm of drugs of potential misuse’ The Lancet. Volume 369, Issue 9566, 24-30. Pg. 1047-1053. https://doi.org/10.1016/S0140-6736(07)60464-4

[crabby-gurl]

king dork

at first i really liked this book: it was fresh, was written in an inventive style, and had a humourous cynicism. but the more i read, the more i felt it was aimed at ME, a person who lived through the 80's and 90's, instead of a current YA reader (it's intended audience). then the plot became a little too fresh: with the nerdy protagonist somehow obtaining two (!) secret/casual girlfriends who hand out oral sex entirely too readily. the author draws lots of parallels between his main character and holden caulfield (and peppers the book with comments about 'catcher in the rye' - some quite funny) so he's clearly trying to create a new, current, model for the coming-of-age novel. but, i sort of hated it (hmm. i remember hating 'catcher' as well... another parallel) anyhow, in retrospect, i found rather misogynistic: girls only valued for their physical assets, girls interchangeable in sexual fantasies (and then real life). god help us if this is the real life attitudes of boys.

[itsnotamalia]

My Blog, joker pov, book review

I don't really get how this is one such highly hyped book to be read by everyone, why it’s as famous as it is… especially by teenagers. It's just a basic “classic” piece in the context of the era in which the book is released. To an extent, the book is extremely boring and tedious, I mean, probably every single body on this earth that has stupidly wasted their time reading this absolute piece of sh*t of a book feels like they have passed through the exact same phase as this “quirky” and “innocent” little piece of a protagonist.

So, coming back to the book, we have a main character who curses and rejects the values of his parents and society in general, as if he thought he was some special sort of a main character bs…  I mean it is acceptable to behave in such a hostile manner for, (it would be just a little hypocritical of me to fully judge him… wouldn’t it?) It is about the person’s choices and freedom. The narrative style is casual and conversational. Those rude ass words and phrases especially add a little humor to the plot, which I think it’s a bit more motivating to keep up with the book (because you can’t say a book without a bit of humor is motivating… how dull does your life have to be for you to enjoy something like that). I kind of really liked the way he keeps on thinking about his surroundings. He is a spoiled chap yet we can relate to him somehow.

I think it is also about saving his innocent little, boring a#s, lame, and dull childhood. Like the way, he said to his little sister about how he wanted to be “Catcher in the Rye” -The man who saves children from falling into adulthood. F*cking genius isn’t him. It is not like our hero is so dumb that he cannot mingle with social groups. He is a mature, emotional and outstanding reader with an incredible imagination.Yet he doesn’t want to do what is not required. Kind of relatable right?.... just saying…  Though such an attitude is unacceptable to compete in this world, definitely it awakens us to ponder upon his situation. In a way, I really have sympathy towards him. 

[natasha-romanoff-deserved-better]

The Day The Music Died

Summary:

“This’ll be the day that I die,” Yelena had sung those exact words in the car that day, and no lies were told.

Natasha never wanted to hear that song again.

Word Count: 3437

Also on Ao3 here

~~~

Natasha stares at the bandages wrapped tightly around Clint’s left wrist, eyes locked in on the red spots where extra blood had been soaked up by the gauze. Clint’s tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, softly drumming along to the song playing from the radio as he maneuvers the car around a bend in the old back road.

“I can feel you staring.” He says, snapping Natasha out of her trance. Clint takes his eyes off the road for a second to catch her gaze. “Nat, I’m fine. I promise.” It’s not going to change what happened, but he still tries. These types of missions were always hard on Natasha, and it’d only been made that much worse when one of the target’s bodyguards had managed to catch Clint’s forearm with a knife, dangerously close to critical veins. There had been a lot of blood and although Nat was easily able to stitch his skin back together, the close call had scared her - even if she refused to admit it out loud.

“I know you’re fine, idiot. It’s impossible to get rid of you.” She snorts and sends him a small smile. The radio cuts into a commercial, advertising their station and morning talk show before launching into another song.

A long, long time ago

I can still remember how that music

Used to make me smile

Natasha frowns at the song as an alarm bell begins to blare in the back of her head at the notes that drift out of the speakers. She furrows her eyebrows at it, a sinking feeling coming over her. Images from another time threaten to overtake her, and she’s too weak to stop them.

And I knew if I had my chance

That I could make those people dance

And maybe they'd be happy for a while

A blonde little girl, only five years old, prances around the front yard. She’s barefoot and wearing her pink sparkly sundress, hair pulled up into pigtails as she tries to catch a ladybug. Natasha watches from her perch among the tree branches. Mom Melina is kneeled on the ground as she works on the garden in front of the house, planting new flowers to replace the dead ones. She’s brought her portable stereo out, sitting it on the porch and playing at full volume. Natasha isn’t even aware of what song is playing until Yelena is running up to the porch, begging her to play it again. Mom Melina does. And then plays it again with an amused smile and quirked eyebrow when Yelena asks for a third time. Yelena cheers with joy as it starts again and rises to her tip toes as she begins to twirl and dance to the music.

Nobody knows what it is about the song that Yelena likes so much, but she loves it. She constantly asks for it, so much so that Melina loads it onto a cassette tape and keeps it in the car just for her. Natasha doesn’t quite understand what most of the lyrics are talking about, but she decides she doesn’t mind the song for Yelena. In a way, it fits- Yelena is the picture perfect little all american girl, apple pie personified.

Natasha’s frozen in her seat. She pleads with herself to move, to turn off the radio. She doesn’t want to hear this. She knows what verses are coming next, and her breathing catches in her throat as they start. These words hold no comfort for her anymore.

Bye Bye Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry

And them good ol boys were drinking whiskey and rye

Singin’ this’ll be the day that I die

This’ll be the day that I die

Her sister’s high-pitched voice singing the words, a beat behind as she moves her hands cheerfully, lost in the rhythm of the song. She’s buzzing with excitement- ready for her promised big adventure, too young and oblivious to notice their parent’s anxiety or her sister’s internal crisis happening in the seat next to her. Natasha can’t look at her sister, she doesn’t want her to see the panic she knows is written over her face. Instead, she keeps her eyes locked out the window, trying desperately to commit everything to memory. The red, white, and blue lights that light up the night, the football game where a band plays and people cheer, the abundance of restaurants where families are sat enjoying dinner. The normalness of it all makes her angry - how can all these people be so casual when her world is falling apart at the seams? Yelena begins to sing the verse about dying, and it takes everything within Natasha to not snap at her. She can’t bear to listen to her little sister singing about dying, so blissfully unaware of the possibility of the verse becoming true at any moment now. Natasha should say something to her, tell her to stop, tell her what was happening. But the lure of pretending one last time is too great for her to give away. She doesn’t say anything.

Did you write the book of love

A photo album, thick with pictures of them all sit on the shelf. It’s Natasha’s favorite thing in the house, and she often sneaks out of bed to stare at the photos. Realistically, she knows they’re all fake. But if she tries hard enough, thinks long enough, she swears she can recall the events. Thanksgiving had been fun; the food had been the best she’d ever tasted. Their summer vacation had been at the beach, and she swears she can feel the sun warming her face and the sand between her toes.

And do you have faith in God above

If the bible tells you so?

She and Clint had gone to a church once, as part of an undercover mission. She’d ended up having to walk out in the middle of the service. It had been too much. She could never believe in it, even if she wanted to. No loving God would ever create the horrors she had seen before her 13th birthday or give her a family purely to steal it all away so violently.

Can music save your mortal soul

And can you teach me how to dance real slow?

Natasha’s feet hit the ground, still en pointe, as she lands the perfect Grand Jete. She tosses her arms out in the landing pose and holds it for a second before excited clapping breaks her concentration. Yelena sits there, smiling wide as possible, clad in her own black leotard and pink tights. She’s in the younger classes, not as advanced as Natasha yet, but it doesn’t stop her from trying. Yelena scrambles to her feet, crossing the floor to stand next to her sister.

“Teach me, teach me!”

It’s a complicated step, and Natasha knows she’s not ready for it just yet. She doesn’t want her to get hurt.

“I’ll teach you when you’re older, okay?” Yelena nods, and turns to the mirror, copying Natasha’s arm positions.

Natasha tries to force another breath into her lungs, but it’s harder now, her throat and chest constricted. She squeezes her eyes closed, trying to block out the flashbacks that continue to assault her.

Now for ten years we’ve been on our own

And moss grows fat on a rolling stone

But that’s not how it used to be.

Fifteen years. It had been fifteen goddamn years since Natasha had seen her sister for the last time. She refuses to let herself think of what might have happened to her. It pains her to think of her baby sister, who had once been so full of life, in such a horrid place.

Natasha wraps her arms around herself, arms holding each other tightly. She digs her fingernails into her skin, attempting to give herself something else to focus on and ground her. It doesn’t work.

Bye Bye Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the Levee but the Levee was dry

Them good ol boys were drinking whiskey and rye

And signing this will be the day that I die

This’ll be the day that I die

Natasha doesn’t know how long they’ve been stuffed into this shipping container, crowded against a hundred other little girls. They’re all dirty, all starving, all terrified. The scent of sweat and urine threatens to suffocate them, the air hot and heavy.

She has tugged Yelena into her lap, arms protectively crossed over her torso to hold her close- hasn’t let go of her since the second they were put into here for fear of losing her amongst the other girls. She’s so tiny, and Natasha doesn’t trust any of the others.

Yelena stirs, a small whimper falling from her lips. Natasha tries to shush her gently, but it doesn’t work, and her sister keeps squirming. Her cries are starting to grow in volume, and one of the girls next to them sends them a dirty look.

“Yelena, Yelena. I’m here. You’re with me.” It’s the only words of comfort Natasha can offer her. She wishes she could tell her they were okay, that she was safe, that they were going to be fine. Instead, all she can do is assure her that her older sister had her. Yelena had stopped calling out for her mom a while ago, after her calls went unanswered and she finally realized no one was coming to rescue them. Natasha shifts them around, turning her back towards the others and away from prying eyes. Natasha turns Yelena on her lap, so that Yelena is facing her. “Yelena, look at me.”

Yelena shakes her head, so Natasha gently cups both sides of her face, titling her face up so that she has no choice. Yelena doesn’t resist, just locks her tear-filled eyes onto Natasha.

“I’m scared,” Yelena sobs through hitching breaths as her body trembles.

Natasha clutches her tighter and brings her closer, so close their noses are almost touching. “Don’t cry, Lena. Just sing with me.” Yelena frowns at her in confusion, and Natasha starts to sing under her breath, quietly, so that Yelena is forced to quite herself down and focus to hear the words.

She starts with the chorus, the part that Yelena knows and likes the best. “Bye, Bye, Miss American pie,” Natasha sings. The corner of Yelena’s lips quirks up in recognition. Nat pauses, prompting Yelena to sing the next line herself.

Her voice quivers, but she sings it anyways. “Drove my chevy to the levee…” Natasha nods in encouragement and joins her for the next verse. “But the levee was dry.” They sing the next few lines together. They near the last two lines of the chorus though, and this time, Natasha can’t allow her to sister to sing the last line. They hurt too much, they’re too real.

So she interrupts Yelena, skipping forward past the “Day that I die” line and jumping right into the next verse. Yelena doesn’t even question it, just follows her sister’s lead and allows herself to be completely absorbed in the whispered song.

Natasha sings almost the entire song to her sister, doing her best to remember as many lyrics as she could, and then starts over. She keeps singing, over and over again, until her voice starts to crack, and Yelena’s eyes are slipping closed in exhaustion.

“Tasha?” Clint calls, picking up the tension in his partner. She doesn’t respond, just stays frozen in her seat, locked in her own little world. “Hey,” He calls, a bit louder this time. He takes one hand off the wheel and places it on her shoulder gently. “Nat. What’s going on?” She’s shaking.

Instead of answering, Natasha claps her hands over her ears and leans forward, bending at the waist so she can rest her head atop her knees. She’s shaking her head, muttering something under her breath.

We all got up to dance

Oh, but we never got the chance

“Teach me, teach me!”

“…When you’re older.”

Natasha never got the chance to teach Yelena that ballet move. She wonders just how many other promises to her baby sister she’s broken.

“I’m going to pull over, Nat, okay?” A male’s voice comes from somewhere close by. His hand moves from her shoulder onto her back, to rub small circles on it.

Do you recall what was revealed

The day the music died?

She had never felt so stupid. Standing on that airway strip, holding a gun out in front of her, blocking Yelena. She had let her fall into the lie, childishly believe that maybe, just maybe Dad Alexei loved them like he said he did. As Alexei kneels before them, showing no sympathy to his daughters tears, she realizes that had never been the case.

The chorus starts again, and she feels bile rise in her stomach. “Bye Bye Miss American Pie” Natasha remembers how she had stolen that gun from a solider, shoved her sister behind her and threatened to kill numerous grown men for touching her. How desperately she had clung to Yelena when they’d been ripped apart. She hadn’t been ready to give up her sister, not ready to say goodbye to the American dream lie they had built side by side. “Drove my Chevy to the Levee but the levee was dry” The memory of Yelena’s face during those few days had haunted Natasha’s dreams for years. It had frightened her- even more so than the men with oversized guns. She had never seen her sister, who laughed at everything and loved the world with everything in her, look so despondent. She had tried telling her jokes to pry some kind of smile out of her. It didn't work. “This’ll be the day that I die” Yelena had sung those exact words in the car that day, and no lies were told. That day, when dad Alexei handed them back to Russians soldiers, they had both died. Died only to be remade and ruthlessly forged into something new, nothing more than weapons of mass destruction and trained killers.

There’s cussing to her left that pulls her back halfway to the present. She’s in a car, and she’s covered in vomit that runs down her front and onto her chest and lap. Clint has a hand on her, and he’s telling her just a second, Nat.

“Clint?” She asks, still slightly confused. She can still feel the weight of a smaller body on top of her, feel the soft blonde curls against her chin.

“I’m here, Tasha. Hold on.”

Oh, and there we were all in one place

A generation lost in space

With no time to start again

Countless little girls standing in a straight line, blank expressions, awaiting their next commands. They’re all mirrors of each other, no identity left for any of them to cling onto. Natasha scans over each girl, searching for the blonde waves she knows so well. She can’t find her.

The song drags on as Clint navigates the car off the road, coming to stop. He jumps out and jogs around, flinging Natasha's door open. She doesn’t move, so he reaches in and unbuckles her before slipping his hands into her armpits and pulling her out of the car. She tumbles to the ground, falling onto her knees.

And as I watched him on the stage

My hands clenched in fists of rage

No angel born in hell

Could break that Satan’s spell

Natasha catches Dreykov’s eyes on them, and she tightens her hold on Yelena’s hand. Her sister makes a small noise - she’s going to have bruises with how tight Nat is holding her- but doesn’t pull her hand away. Natasha curls her free hand into a tight fist, ready to swing if need be.

Dreykov says something to the men with guns next to him and points a finger at them. The soldiers start moving forward, and Natasha backtracks, tries to back up but Yelena stumbles at the sudden change in direction.

I saw Satan laughing with delight

The day the music died

Natasha screams her sister's name, gripping onto her as tightly as she can. Soldiers have hands on them both, ripping them away from each other. Dreykov is standing several feet away, a tiny smile on his face. Yelena is shrieking, hands desperately trying to keep her grasp on Natasha with all the strength in her six-year-old frame.

They lose their grip on each other and are dragged apart. Yelena’s voice dies out as they carry away the only thing Natasha had left.

Bye Bye Miss American Pie -

“Turn it off!” Natasha pleads, before promptly vomiting even more onto the ground. Clint’s hands support her head, keeping her from falling. “Off, please. I can’t. Turn it--” Clint’s hands leave her for a second as he scrambles over her, reaching through the open passenger door and slamming the power button on the radio.

Natasha lets out a breath, thankful for the silence. With the song no longer playing, her head is beginning to clear, the painful images retreating somewhere she could lock them away again.

“All done?” Clint asks her. She spits out one last string of bile and nods her head, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as Clint helps her sit up and lean against his leg. He doesn’t rush her, just allows her to sit and try to regain control of her breathing as he combs his fingers through her hair.

When Natasha can finally think again, she frowns at herself in disgust. “Sorry,” She apologizes.

“You don’t need to apologize to me,” he tells her. Clint reaches over and opens the backdoor, grabbing his go bag and digging around until his fingers find one of his clean T-shirts. He yanks it out, closes the door. “Can I help you change, or do you want to do it yourself?”

He’s honestly not even sure if she could change herself right now, with how much she was still shaking, but he gives her the choice anyways. She shrugs her shoulders, her way of accepting help without actually having to accept. “Okay, arms up.” Natasha raises her arms, and Clint carefully tugs her shift off her by the collar, making sure the filthy outside never touched any of her skin. He crumples up the shirt into a ball and tucks it in a bag. He bunches up his shirt at the neck hole and slides it over her head before gently guiding her arms through. It takes a lot for his partner to get to this state, and his concern grows with every passing second that goes by and Natasha is still out of it. He fixes the shirt over her torso, making sure she’s completely covered and then sinks down to the ground, leaning his back against the wheel of the car. There’s a soft breeze in the air, the slight chill nipping at their skin a welcome distraction. “C’mere,” he says, and guides Natasha into his side. She tenses for a moment, but then lets her head drop onto his shoulder, allowing Clint to take her weight. He wraps an arm around her to hold her close.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha repeats, and this time Clint doesn’t say anything. He knows she’s not apologizing to him, but someone not in their presence. He doesn’t push it. She’ll tell him when she’s ready, on her own time. He has guesses though. Clint had an older brother, and he knows what a protective but burnt-out older sibling looks like. He’s seen the way her eyes linger on certain little girls in public before snapping back, caught the way she had once brushed her fingers over a fabric doll with pink hair on a store shelf, heard the way she is able to understand children’s speech without any effort. She’s never mentioned a younger sibling before, but sometimes in her sleep, she mumbles a girl’s name, her hands clenched in fists as if trying to hold on to her.

He presses a kiss to her temple, a silent promise. He won’t push her- He doesn’t need to know exactly what happened. He knows how to support her and how to take care of her when she needs it and for now, that’s enough.

Years later, Natasha will press her forehead to an adult Yelena’s, both panting from the fight, Yelena upside down and laying in the wreckage of the red room. Dreykov is finally dead, by Yelena’s hand. Yelena cracks a joke, and Natasha smiles. They’ll never again be those little girls they once were, but they’ve finally found each other.

[nad-zeta]

Mitsuhide- Mealtime Mayhem

Fandom: Ikesen

Pairings: Mitsuhide x Reader

Genre: Fluffffff

Words: 1700+

Comments: Eeeeep HAPPY BIRTHDAY MINEKO!!!! Whooop Whooop! //dances around ❤❤Hope you have the best day! ❤😳🥺! 🥺😳❤🌈 @mineko811

.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’ .*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’･ﾟ｡.*:・’ﾟ: ｡.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ

You reached for the doorknob of your shared apartment, key turning slowly as you went to step inside. Feet aching after the long day at work, you passed through the doorway, excited to greet your lover but instead being met with a puff of white smoke. Your hand shot up to cover your mouth as a cough ripped through your chest. You dared to trudge deeper into the apartment, kicking your heels off and leaving the door ajar— in hopes that the smoke would disperse to hopefully at least restore some of your vision.

You felt around the room blindly, cautiously walking to avoid stubbing your unsuspecting toes against any chair legs or counter corners.

You spotted him there— amid the smoke— white hair blending in all so perfectly. That dense mist-like smoke creating an eerie feel of mystery and danger, perfect to disguise the mischievous fox within. You couldn’t help but think it suited him.

You sauntered up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and standing up onto the very top of your tippy toes to peek over his shoulder to see the absolute disaster he was creating. “Whatcha making there love?” you asked curiously, giving him a loving peck on the cheek.

Mitsuhide turned around, a snakelike smile plastered across his features as if there was nothing out of the ordinary— as if he wasn’t there setting your house on fire with his culinary train smash.

He expertly evaded the question— master of avoidance and deception— or so he liked to claim—standing in front of the smoking mess, to shield it from your prying eyes. “Welcome home, my dearest mouse,” he beamed, holding your cheeks hostage between his hands to keep your eyes focused solely on him.

To humour him or not to humour him, that is the question?

Making your choice, you ducked down around him, shaking your head at the scene in front of you. “What in the world? Are you trying to imitate your latest investigation?” you teased, shooting him a playful little grin over your shoulder.

“It’s nothing to be concerned with, my dearest; now pray tell how your day has been,” he hummed out, trying once more to distract you with hands falling onto your hips, nuzzling his nose against you lovingly.

“My day,” you started, sparing the dodgy pan a final glance before turning to shrug off your coat as you took up residence atop a nearby kitchen counter. “ Was busy as usual, nothing to write home about,” you reported nonchalantly.

It was a long and tedious day, filled with the usual work, politics and chaos, certainly not the most ideal way you wanted to spend your birthday. On the contrary, you wanted nothing more than to spend your birthday at home, with Mitsu. Guilt tugged at your heart when you thought back to the morning— being greeted with soft cuddles and golden eyes filled with a dazzling glint of excitement at the prospect of a day off. He rarely got time off, and your heart sank even further, knowing the amount of effort and strings that needed to be pulled to allow it. Yet alas, the universe had different plans for you, as shortly after hearing out all the thrilling plans he had made, you had gotten a call summoning you into work.

“Whiskey?” you sighed out, breaking the comfortable silence that fell between the two of you. Without waiting for an answer, you reach across the counter to take hold of the whiskey bottle and two glasses. You poured the golden liquid into the glasses, adding a few ice cubes before holding one out towards Mitsuhide.

“My, are you certain you would not like to write home about your day? The stiff drink certainly is telling, mouse”, he teased with amusement and hints of concern, swishing the knife in the air casually before cutting up some onions and throwing it with the unidentified contents of the still smoking pan.

“Would you write back if I do,” you met his tease with a tired smile, handing him his drink and clicking your glass with his.

Mitsuhide simply shook his head, chuckling while taking a sip of the golden rye. “If your heart desires it, little one, now wash up. Dinner shall be ready momentarily,” he nodded, turning back the pan and adding some water from the kettle with brows furrowed in concentration, causing even more smoke to rise up.

You hummed contently, hopping off the counter, changing from your work clothes into your PJs— not wanting to linger too long; after all, you did want a kitchen to come back to. You crossed the threshold of the dining room only to see Mitsuhide set out two bowls onto the dining table with a proud smirk plastered across his face.

You swallowed, preparing yourself for the horror that was the meal you were to eat. Making your way closer, you inspected the bowl of goo with wide eyes. “So what do we have on the menu tonight chef,“ you asked, slipping into your seat—hoping to delay the inevitable as long as possible.

Mitsuhide shrugged and booped your nose in response, “just a simple meal made with love.”

You hummed, picking up a fork —ooh, you could not bring it over your heart to take a bite— so instead, you just moved the food around in the bowl like a fussy child at dinner time.

“Gracious, you’re not even touching your food, my love. Here, shall I help you.”

He scooped up a healthy helping of the sludge-like substance onto a spoon and held it out for you to taste. Your lips pursed, eyes narrowing at its contents. What in the 7 hells was this supposed to be? He brought the spoon closer to your lips, leaning forward to rest his chin on his other hand.

“Come now, little one, how are you to grow into a mighty mouse if you don’t eat the special birthday meal your husband lovingly prepared for you, hmm."

“I don’t think I will grow at all if I eat that; if anything, I think death will be imminent,” you quipped back.

“My my, how you wound me so, if you keep rejecting me, I may very well just burst into tears,” Mitsuhide sighed out dramatically, bringing his hand over his heart in mock hurt— yet the way his golden eyes shone told you he was anything but hurt.

“Fine! Fine!” you finally huffed out, turning your face back, wrapping your hand around his to bring the spoon to your mouth. Only a little taste, you thought with a gulp. You stopped short of your lips, praying to any and every god that you would be spared from the horrors of food poisoning.

Oh, how he tried, it warmed your heart, really it did, but the culinary genius inside you was screaming. Finally, you closed your lips around the spoon, letting the flavours coat your tongue; whatever it was, it was beyond fixing, so much so that you could almost hear Gordon Ramsay’s comments of the meal echoing in your head. Of course, the texture would be fine, Mitsuhide could execute that part well enough, but the taste, GOD, the flavour was a dead giveaway of a certain someone’s taste or rather lack thereof.

You swallowed the contents, trying to school your features into a carefree smile, only the delicate muscles of your face had not gotten the memo, instead pulling into a sour, scrunched up expression. “Mmm, this is great,” you managed to get out, sounding far less sincere than you had meant it to.

Mitsuhide, on the other hand, burst into a fit of cackling laughter. You realized then, you had been played. The cackling continued even after you narrowed your eyes, sending him an icy glare,” oh dearest, this is precisely why I love teasing you so.”

You crossed your arms and turned your face away with a ‘Hmpf.’

He tried to get your attention, but each time you turned away with a huff. “Has a cat caught my darling wife’s tongue,” came the amused words from the man you loved so dearly as he curled a stray lock of your hair around his fingers.

You dared to cautiously sneak a glance at him, only to see a broad grin littered with mischief. You quickly turned your face away once more, fearing he might see straight past your pouting facade. With mischief marrying his eyes, his hands moved toward your sides to tickle you mercilessly, “perhaps I shall use my skills as a detective to get you talking.”

You held out as long as you could, but the ticklish sensation caused laughter to bubble from your chest, “M-Mitsu s-stop, -stop,” uncontrollable laughter wasn’t the only sound to file into the room as your stomach let go of a large growl in hunger.

Of course, you had not eaten all day and, that, whatever it was, was less than satisfying to the taste buds.

Mitsuhide continued to chuckle as he shook his head, pulling out his phone to give it a sparring glance, “truly you amuse me to no end, my love.”

He leaned forward to kiss the tip of your nose while gracefully swooping up the unfinished bowl of goop. Taking elegant strides back to the kitchen, he shot you a smile from over his shoulder, “the pizza should be here soon,” the confession finally came.

Jumping from your seat, you ran after him. “You massive troll!” you accused, rolling your eyes and reclaiming your spot on the countertop to wait for the ACTUAL food to arrive while watching him clean his mess.

“How you flatter me so,” he purred out, slithering closer to you. That earned him another roll of the eyes, yet, you still found yourself inching closer to rest your forehead against his as you exchanged loving smiles. He met your soft lips in a fleeting kiss, then, hand coming up to cradle the back of your head.

“Happy birthday, my dearest,” was all he said, planting one more kiss onto your lips. You felt him slip something into your hair, and before you could question, his phone rang, causing him to turn on his heel and attend to it.

With a dazzling smile, you gazed upon the bellflower pin he had placed into your hair. His features softened as he matched your smile with one full of love for you. One thing was for sure, Mitsuhide may be an incorrigible tease, but you knew when it came down to it, he loved you with all his heart.

[drawing-way-outside-the-lines]

Jazper Sinclair  *Supporting character

Voice Claim: (Roo Panes) https://youtu.be/vUspXilOIc4?t=20 Singing Voice Claim (Roo Panes) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1MYEu4X9gNE

Partner(s): Single. Parents: Diana & Marcus Sinclair. Kids: None. Siblings: None. Age: 34 (2021) Birthday: 29th of June. Height: 184 cm (6ft) Body type: Slim, but muscular. Eye color: Light golden green with a bit of walnut around the iris. Human: Immortal.

About: ~ Calm, Passionate, Confident, Adventurous, Caring, Spontaneous, Charismatic, Charming, Focused, Intuitive, Helpful, Considerate, Genuine, Independent, Logical, Observant, Practical and Respectful. ~ Professional singer. ~ Sexuality: Not something he wishes to openly analyze. ~ Has long dark brown thick hair. ~ Was born Ava Sinclair, but knew at a very early age, she didn’t belong in that body. ~ Used to date Sam, but left to travel the world and discover himself/transition. ~ Used to be a Jazz singer, working at an old saloon type of bar. ~ Now lead singer in a small Indie/Folk band, he established while traveling the world. ~ Writes his own songs, mostly inspired by his travels, his upbringing and Sam. ~ Plays a bit of guitar as well, but still learning. ~ Not the best cook, but manages. ~ Closet Romantic. ~ Cares a lot about nature. ~ Extremely monogamous and very loyal to his partner. ~ Is very easy going and comfortable to be around. ~ Nothing much gets to him, and he considers himself a fairly optimistic person. ~ Good at giving advices. ~ Excellent listener! - Prefers to listen over speaking. ~ Doesn’t like pineapple. ~ Can be a bit quiet sometimes. ~ Often gets lost in his own thoughts. ~ Smells like: Warm spicy red/rose pepper/Cardamom/Clove/orange and Sandalwood. ~ Has only ever been in love with Sam. ~ Not a fan of public display of affection. ~ Was never that close to his parents, and haven’t seen his dad for years. ~ Is pretty close to his stepdad, Larry, on the other hand. ~ Is very interested in supernatural stuff, and likes to burry his head in old lore books, and learn as much as possible. ~ Scared of bats. ~ Drinks a lot of red wine and tea. ~ Hates doing the dishes and often leaves them standing for days or even a week! ~ Can be a bit of a messy person, and often leaves shirts and socks on the floor. ~ Changed his name to Jazper after transitioning, because it reminded him of when Sam and him used to hang out late at night, listening to Jazz and drink wine till the early morning, back when he was Ava. ~ Has a deep and warm laughter. ~ Can be quite sensual. ~ Is very drawn to the stars and moon. ~ Loves Sam, red wine, tea, Jazz, Basil, singing, the sound of seagulls, documentaries about nature or ancient civilizations, pizza, cheese, cherries, rye bread, getting his hair played with, the scent of roses, horses, pillows, soft bedsheets, traveling, Tigers Eye and incense. ~ His style is casual but very good quality garments. He likes to pay extra, but have less. ~ Will do anything for the people he loves.

Jazper’s tag Jazper’s house/home Jazper’s moodboard Handwriting/ask answer pic:

One song to describe him: Nathan Ball - My Answer | Mahogany Session Personal Playlist: 1. Billie Holiday - Strange fruit 2. Jacob Banks - Part Time Love | Mahogany Session 3. Jack Savoretti - Written In Scars 4. Lxandra - Sabotage | Mahogany Session 5. Jack Johnson - I Got You | Mahogany Session 6. John Coltrane - In A Sentimental Mood 7. Miles Davis - So What 8. Nina Simone - I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel to Be Free 9. Alice Phoebe Lou & OLMO - Devil's Sweetheart | Mahogany Session 10. Jacob Banks - Unknown | Mahogany Session 11. Count Basie  - Blue And Sentimental 12. Matt Corby - Miracle Love (Live At Manchester Cathedral) 13. Nat King Cole - Stardust 14. Sarah Vaughan - Lullaby of Birdland 15. Lauv - Breathe (Acoustic) | Mahogany Session 16. Lois ArmStrong - When You're Smiling (The Whole World Smiles With You) 17. Abimaro - Without You | Mahogany Session 18. Cab Calloway - The Hi-De-Ho Man (That's Me) 19. John Coltrane - My One and Only Love 20. Hozier - Like Real People Do -- Barn on the Farm Sessions 21. Dizzy Gillespie Sextet  - Groovin' High 22. Charlie Parker - All the things you are 23. All Faces - All Is Forgiven | Mahogany Session 24. Miles Davis - Blue In Green 25. Amber Run - I Found ft. London Contemporary Voices

[the-original-b]

Archangel Chapter 10: Underhanded Practice

Format: Prose / Fiction, multi-entry

Part in Series: 2 of 9 (Previous Chapter | The Beginning)

Word Count: c. 5,400

Summary: Krueger investigates a lead at a popular lounge, uncovering a plot to bring a new drug market to the Branch’s back yard. 

Warning(s): blood and gore, violence

Krueger blearily opened his eyes in bed and stared absentmindedly at the ceiling fan as he tried to quiet his mind again. After half an hour, he realized trying to return to sleep was an exercise in futility, so he slid out from under the sheets—careful not to disturb Khai curled up next to him—and quietly made his way to his bathroom to wash up before pulling a hoodie on over track pants to run a few laps around his block.

When he returned home at the crack of dawn, Khai was already dressed in a dark suit and lavender blouse, pouring her coffee into a to-go cup. They shared a quick kiss before she left, and Krueger returned upstairs to retrieve his P30L to start his day at the shooting range out east.

 ~~~~

Krueger sat at the diner counter later that morning, picking at the remains of his egg white Denver Omelette when the owner Henry Everett brought him a fresh coffee.

“Espresso,” he confirmed, placing it in front of him. “Black with no sugar.”

“Danke, Henry,” Krueger returned. He took the off-white mug by its handle and sipped slowly, savoring the flavor.

Everett leaned over the counter and looked the other man in the eyes. “How are you feeling, Milo?” he asked. “You look unwell.”

Krueger exhaled as he laid the coffee cup back down on the saucer. “I haven’t been sleeping well lately,” he began. “Which of course means Liz hasn’t been sleeping well… a lot on my mind after my last job.”

“Yes, Liz mentioned something like that the other day. Something about a girl in the Rockaways and a den in Patchogue.”

Krueger nodded. “As much as I want to call it an isolated incident, I just can’t shake the feeling that it’s part of something bigger.” He minded his volume as he spoke to Everett. Although the place was his, there were still other parties present that were uninvolved with their shared line of work.

“Would you sleep any better if I said I think you’re right?”

Krueger arched his brow behind the coffee cup.

“Chloe, one of my associates at Pharaohs, might be on to something,” he disclosed. “She thinks somebody may be trying to move some contraband into the Boroughs.”

“Contraband?” Given the nature of their business and the rules set in place by Isaac Hayden, contraband could only mean one thing in this context. “Does Chloe know for sure it’s connected to Patchogue?”

“Nothing concrete yet,” he said, taking Krueger’s plate as a server passed them by. “But she’s got a keen eye for suspicious activity, better than anyone else there.” He carried the plate to a plastic bin by the kitchen and returned to continue. “According to her, the same two individuals would meet at Pharaohs to talk. At the same time each day over the last three days. One of them had a habit of ordering a drink and staring at it until his contact arrived.”

Krueger broke eye contact and slowly sipped his coffee as he considered the information presented. “Could be nothing,” he surmised. “It could be unrelated… or it could be worth looking into,” he concluded, reestablishing eye contact. “I’ll come by Pharaohs tonight. I’m supposed to go out with Liz after she’s done at the Branch today, but I can have her meet me there.”

“I would appreciate that,” Everett said, “thank you. I’ll let Chloe know you’re coming.”

~~~~

A lo-fi hip hop instrumental permeated through the main atrium of the Pharaohs Lounge that evening, providing a relaxed atmosphere in which the patrons enjoyed their hookah and cocktails. They conversed, closed business deals, and flirted in the dim light under the watchful eyes of the Ramesses II, Tutankhamun, Cleopatra, and Hatshepsut immortalized in busts at the four corners of the room.

The bartender, a woman wearing a white button-up shirt that seemed to glow under the spotlight keenly observed the space from behind the bar, and would briefly scan the room between preparing martinis for the servers to bring to the guests.

Krueger walked into the lounge in a black turtle neck sweater, dark washed jeans, and classy casual shoes under his pea coat. He headed straight for the bar and took a seat, interlacing his fingers and resting his hands on the counter.

The bartender returned the bottle opener to the rear right pocket of her jeans and crossed her arms on the countertop, leaning forward. “Anybody ever tell you how cool your eyes are?” She got his attention with a rich, dulcet voice.

Krueger turned to meet her gaze. “Danke—er… Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she returned, smirking playfully. “I don’t think we’ve met,” she added, moving to a spot directly across from him, “but I’ve definitely seen you around before.” She reached across the bar to offer him her hand. “Chloe Zaydan,” she introduced herself. She had warm ivory skin, long dark hair parted down the middle, bright brown eyes, and full lips.

Krueger accepted and shook her hand. “Milo Krueger,” he said. “Happy to make your acquaintance. Mr. Everett speaks highly of you.”

“I would hope so, he and I opened this place together.” She took her hand back after their contact lingered for a little. “Thanks, by the way.”

“For what?”

“For not staring.” Her shirt’s first three buttons were undone, and a good deal of her skin was visible. “Most of the guys here forget where my eyes are once they start drinking.”

“I haven’t started drinking yet.”

“Let’s fix that, shall we?” She straightened up, whipping her hair out of her face with a quick shake of her head. “What’s your poison, Milo Krueger?”

“Water for now,” he said, turning in his chair to scan the tables behind him. “I’m working.”

“Uh huh…” Chloe retrieved a water bottle from the refrigerator under the bar and a pint glass from the freezer. “What do you do, exactly?” She cracked the bottle open and poured its contents into the glass before sliding it over to him then resting her hands on the countertop and leaning forward a little.

“I solve problems, currently, for Mr. Everett’s boss. Before that, I shot people for money; Kommando Spezialkräfte, the Bundeswehr, a few private clients, and my own team once.”

“Not going to lie to you,” she admitted, gesturing her head. “All that registered was Commando.”

Krueger turned back to face her and blinked, then took from his water glass. “Special Forces,” he said. “Now I’m in the private sector.”

“You see? Wasn’t that easier?” She flashed him a coquettish smile.

Krueger chuckled to himself as he drank more water. “I suppose… and you, Chloe Zaydan? What do you do?”

Chloe looked up to take a drink order from one of the servers working the floor behind Krueger. She nodded at the server and turned to gather a few of the ingredients from the wall behind her. “Well,” she began, “officially I’m the head bartender here at Pharaohs. I take care of the staff and make sure the staff take care of the patrons.” She took a rocks glass and a cocktail shaker from the drying rack and placed a single large ice cube into the glass, then cracked a second ice cube into the shaker. Then she opened the half-finished bottles of Redemption rye and Domaine de Canton she retrieved from the wall, poured a full measure of the rye into one side of her jigger, and turned it over to add the whiskey into the shaker as she poured the Domaine de Canton into its other side. She turned it over again to pour the liqueur into the shaker as well.

“It’s thankless work,” she continued as she retrieved pomegranate juice and sour mix from the refrigerator below the bar, “but if I don’t do it, nobody else will.” She poured a half measure of the juice into the shaker along with one and a half measures of sour mix, then covered the container up and shook it vigorously. Once satisfied she tapped the shaker on the bar top to open it and strained the contents over the ice cube in the rocks glass. Finally, she rubbed a thin strip of lemon peel over the rim of the glass and placed it into the finished cocktail before sliding it across the bar to the server with a wink. “Turns out I’m pretty good at it too, so, bonus.”

Krueger nodded. “And unofficially?” he queried.

“I’m Number Two here,” she said plainly. She turned briefly to place jigger and cocktail shaker into the sink to run them under hot water. “Kind of like a general manager but with more authority.” She gave the instruments a quick but thorough clean with a sudsy sponge before rinsing them and returning them to the drying rack. “Some days I have to have our guests escorted from the building, and on the worst of those days I have to be in the room with Henry when Mr. Hayden has a word with those guests.” She turned back around to reestablish eye contact as she dried her hands. “So I guess I solve problems too.”

“Then I take it you know why I’m here this evening.” He lowered his volume.

“Yes, sir,” Chloe said, matching his tone and leaning in a little. “I suspected somebody here is looking to either buy or sell drugs. I know how big a no-no that is with Henry’s boss, so I brought it to his attention. Then I’m guessing Henry called you up to help with that..?”

���That isn’t exactly how it went, but yes… The suspected party,” Krueger said, “is he the younger man seated at the table on my five o-clock?”

Chloe peered over his right shoulder to identify the person in question. “Yep, that’s him,” she confirmed. “Nervous Nelly’s been staring at his ginger ale for the better part of the last hour.”

“And his contact?”

“Should be here any second now…” Chloe broke eye contact to scan the room one more time. She straightened up and reached for a mop towel behind her when she spotted him. “Yep,” she confirmed, wiping the bar in front of her. “There he is.” She wiped more of the surface down as she discreetly scanned Nervous Nelly’s contact and relayed her observations to Krueger so he wouldn’t have to blow his cover. “Backpack slung over one shoulder, other hand hooked into his pocket… he just sat down across from Nervous Nelly, and put the backpack on the floor next to him.”

“How good are you at lip reading?”

“Not very…” Chloe returned the mop towel to its hook behind her and turned back around to line a dozen shot glasses up in front of her. “Newcomer’s relaxed enough, laid back in his chair” she continued as she took a bottle of Blue Nectar silver tequila and uncorked it. “His friend on the other hand…” she poured an equal measure into each of the glasses and set the bottle aside as she arranged them on a platter for one of her servers.

“Jiggling knee?” Krueger theorized as he took from his water glass.

“That, rubbing the back of his neck, wringing his hands; basically the picture next to what you’d find in the dictionary if you looked up ‘nervous behavior.’ Plus he keeps looking back this way.” She retrieved the tequila bottle once more and poured one last shot into a glass to send with the server to give to the newcomer, then re-corked the bottle and returned it to the shelf behind her.  

“He doesn’t suspect you,” Krueger assured her. “It’s much more likely he can’t take his eyes off you, a beautiful woman serving drinks behind the bar at a lounge in Bayside.”

Chloe smiled and looked away from him, chuckling to herself. “You know, that’s dangerous, flirting with the pretty girl at the bar,” she returned, smirking wryly at him.

“I’m just stating facts, Chloe” he added in jest, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip. “How you interpret those facts is up to you. Besides,” he continued, “danger is nothing new in my line of work.”

She laughed to herself and shook her head, grinning. “Well, you’re cute,” she admitted, “so I’ll let it slide… just this once.” She broke eye contact with Krueger to watch the man with the backpack and his contact again. “Backpack guy just downed his shot… looks like he enjoyed it.”

“And his friend?”

“Still hasn’t touched his soda… Hold on,” she said. “He just looked over both his shoulders. Looks like he’s reaching into his pocket for something.” Even in the dim light she could see what it was. “An envelope,” she said to him. “He’s handing it over under the table… other guy’s peeling it open, looking inside… he seems satisfied with it.

“Money?”

“Probably,” she continued. “No, definitely. He just slid the backpack over with his foot.”

“Fair trade,” Krueger commented.

“Looks like he’s verifying the purchase…” Chloe watched in silence as the nervous buyer—as discreetly as he could—opened the backpack’s zipper a few inches and reach one hand inside. He seemed to struggle with whatever was inside, then pulled his hand back out and looked over his left shoulder as he brought his fingertips to his mouth. “Taste test,” she finally commented. “Gotta be.”

Krueger nodded. “Then you were right to suspect them. Good instincts.”

“Thanks.” She took her eyes away from them to look at Krueger again. “What happens now?”

“We deliver the buyer to Mr. Everett.”

“Not the seller?”

“No, the seller is just a vector, probably one of a dozen,” he surmised. “A means to an end; at those quantities it’s the buyer looking to create the market here. He’s the one to make an example of.” Krueger stood up from the bar stool and straightened out his coat. “Thank you for the water.” He turned to head to the back of the atrium, toward the stairs to Everett’s office.

Chloe watched him leave, and when he was no longer in her sight she walked over to the wall-mounted phone at the far side of the bar area, picked it up out of its cradle and dialed a three digit extension. “Table six,” she said into the receiver. “Two and a backpack.” Then she hung the phone up and leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, watching the two suspects at their table while three large security guards in black t-shirts and pants wove through the atrium tables and between servers to apprehend them.

The seller, facing the direction they came from, spotted them immediately—he quickly but calmly stood up to make his getaway. The buyer wasn’t so lucky; he was scooped up and lifted clear above the floor in a matter of seconds by one of the guards while the second secured the backpack. The third broke off in pursuit of the seller while the other two took the buyer out of the lounge via the rear exit, away from the other guests who looked on in confusion, but quickly returned to their business after it was done.

Chloe uncrossed her arms and took her place at the bar again, accepting an empty crystal tumbler from one of the servers.

“What was that about?” the server asked her?

“They broke the rules,” she plainly told him. “This one was Blanton’s, right?” she asked, gesturing the empty glass in her hand.

“Uh, yeah. Blanton’s. On the Rocks.”

 ~~

Each of the two security guards cupped one the buyer’s arms as they hauled him into Everett’s office, his feet dragging on the floor behind him. They placed him into an old chair facing the desk as the third security guard laid the confiscated backpack on Everett’s desktop.

The buyer looked up from his lap at the man seated across from him, wincing between pained breaths as he tried his best to nurse his beaten sides and stomach from his seat.

Everett slowly stood up from his chair and took a few measured steps around his desk to approach the buyer. He towered over the other man, glaring at him from behind the frames of his glasses. “Do you understand why you’re here?” he asked the buyer.

The buyer nodded guiltily. “Yeah,” he spat out.

“Explain to me why I had my staff make an example of you in front of my other guests,” Everett ordered. He removed his glasses one-handed and placed them in the front pocket of his jacket.

“I—I bought drugs,” he stammered.

“Louder.”

“I bought drugs..! I was going to sell them... corner the market,” he admitted, shrinking into himself.

Everett took a slow step toward him, invading his personal space now. “Listen to me,” he said quietly. “You have one advocate in this room.” He gestured Krueger seated quietly to the right. “This conversation was his idea. We have a strict set of rules in place here, and a clearly established set of consequences for those who break them. When I heard the extent to which you and your associate were planning violate those rules…” Everett blinked slowly. “Suffice it to say if it weren’t for the respect and admiration I have for that man and his opinion, I would have handled this differently.”

The buyer sheepishly looked to his left at Krueger.

“Don’t look at him,” Everett growled. “You look at me..!”

He snapped to attention, looking up at Everett again towering over him.

“You will leave this place,” Everett declared. “You will leave behind what you have purchased. And he won’t be able to deliver you from what will happen if I or my associates catch you here again.” Everett’s glare bored into the other, smaller man for all of five seconds in total silence before he finally turned back around toward his seat behind the desk. “This exchange is over.”

The buyer swallowed hard before he looked to his left at Krueger one last time. Then he slowly stood back up and staggered out of the room, abandoning his prize to walk away with his life.

Krueger shot Everett a glance before standing up to follow the buyer out of the office and intercept him on the stairs down to the main floor.

He placed his hand on the buyer’s shoulder to turn him around, then shoved him against the wall once he had his attention. With his other hand he drew and opened a folding knife then pressed its point against the buyer’s waist, just above the belt. “I’m going to ask you two simple questions,” he said. “And I want simple answers…”

The buyer, terrified, nodded in silent compliance.

“Are those Dragon Tears in the other room—?”

“Yeah.” His answer was immediate.

“Who’s your seller?”

“I don’t know him.”

Krueger’s eyes narrowed. He brought the blade up from waist-level and rested its flat side against the buyer’s cheek. “Not a simple answer.”

“I don’t know him, I swear..! I was set up with him.”

Krueger blinked, pulling the knife away. “Who set you up? Who is it that’s looking to corner the market on the Dragon Tears here in New York?”

“Peter Cross,” he blurted out. Despair washed over him immediately after he gave Krueger the name.

Krueger blinked, then after three seconds of silence he released the buyer. He’d seen that expression before—the hopelessness that grows and takes over when a man realizes he just signed his own death warrant. He folded the knife one-handed and slid it back into his pocket. “Go,” he finally said. He stood to the side and let the buyer pass. He wasn’t certain from the distance between them, but he could swear the buyer was crying by the time he made it off the stairs.

He returned to Everett’s office to share what he was told. “He wasn’t acting alone,” he began. “He and the seller were proxies for someone named Peter Cross.”

Everett laced his fingers together atop the desk as he sat back down. “Did he say whether Cross was behind the den in Patchogue as well?”

“No, but I don’t believe in coincidence.” Krueger rested his hands in his coat pockets. “Whoever Peter Cross is, all we can be sure of is that he wants that heroin here for a reason. But until we have more information I feel the best thing to do is to stay vigilant… I’ll run his name by Brandon Desmoulins, see what he can dig up.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Everett agreed. He gestured the backpack full of Dragon Tears. “I’ll get this to Isaac in the morning and let him know you’re investigating Cross. He’ll want confer with us once we have some useful information.”

“Understood.”

“Thank you again for your help Milo,” Everett said, his expression softening again. “Have some fun on your way out,” he said. “On the house.”

 ~~

Krueger washed his hands in the bathroom. After shutting the faucet off he ran his still-wet fingers through his hair and over his face, then dried his hands and face with paper towels from the dispenser. He inspected his reflection one last time before leaving the restroom to return to his place at the bar.

He reached into his inside coat pocket for his cell phone, but paused as he recognized Khai in his seat chatting with Chloe. He got their attention with a little wave. “I was about to call you,” he said to her. “I just finished and was going to ask you to meet me here.”

“Who says I’m here for you?” Khai jested. “I came to see my best friend.”

Krueger paused for a moment, then chuckled to himself. “Of course you two know each other,” he said.

“Yep,” Chloe added. “Sorry about not being up front with that, but I wanted to test you. Liz said so much about you I had to be sure.” She flashed him a smile. “You passed, by the way.”

“Well,” Krueger said as he reclaimed his seat at the bar next to Khai, “if it makes no difference to you I think I’ll have that drink now, Chloe.”

“You bet,” she said, wiping the rim of a square rocks glass dry and placing it in front of him. She looked over at Khai. “What does he like?” she asked her, nodding her head in Krueger’s direction.

“The Old Fashioned at Tillman’s,” she said.

Chloe nodded in approval. “Ah,” she noted. “A man of taste..! Extra credit.” She went into the freezer to retrieve a single large ice cube with an orange peel frozen inside of it and placed it into Krueger’s empty glass. She turned over her shoulder to survey her options for whiskey, lingering on a Woodford Reserve but ultimately selecting a Four Roses Single Barrel over it. She poured enough bourbon into the glass to cover the ice, then reached to her left for a bottle of turbinado syrup to add a pre-determined amount of the sweetener to the whiskey. Then she retrieved a bottle of angostura bitters from underneath the bar and added a few dashes to the mixture, then added a few drops of orange bitters to it as well. Finally she stirred the cocktail in the glass with a bar spoon and, when mixed to her satisfaction she skewered a single cocktail cherry with a stainless steel pick and placed it into the glass beside the ice. “It’s not a perfect recreation,” Chloe noted as she slid the glass toward Krueger, “but it’s close.”

“Liz trusts your judgement,” he said to her, smirking. “That means you get a pass from me.”

“Danke,” she said, returning his expression. She turned her attention to her friend. “And you?”

“Surprise me,” Khai said.

Chloe broke eye contact while she considered Khai’s tastes and preferences. She knew what to make her—she ducked below the bar to retrieve a bottle of ginger beer from the refrigerator and placed it on the countertop when she surfaced again. Krueger and Khai looked on in intrigue as she picked a bottle of premium vodka and a honey liqueur off the shelf behind her and placed them on the counter next to the ginger beer. She turned around one last time to get another rocks glass and cocktail shaker from the drying rack and then got to work. Into her shaker she cracked some ice, then poured an equal measure of vodka and the honey liqueur. She cut a lime in half and squeezed its juice to the shaker, then closed and shook it to combine the ingredients. When she was satisfied she tapped the shaker on the counter’s edge to open it, then set it aside as she reached into the rear pocket of her jeans for her bottle opener to uncap the ginger beer. Finally, she topped the open cocktail shaker with a strainer and poured its contents into the rocks glass one-handed while she poured in the ginger beer with her other hand to nearly fill the glass.

“That your take on a Moscow Mule?” Khai asked.

“Been workshopping this one,” Chloe returned, rubbing a lime wedge on the rim of the glass and garnishing the finished product with it. “And no,” she jested. “Henry never got us copper mugs.”

“Eh, details.” Khai brought the experimental cocktail to her lips and sampled it, then paused, analyzing the flavors at play on her tongue. Her eyes lit up as she raised her brow. “Whoa, that’s good. Wait, hold on..!” She took more from the glass and when she finally pulled it away from her mouth she examined it in her hand. “Okay, that’s actually delicious..! It deserves a spot on the menu for sure..!”

“I’ll put that into the suggestion box,” Chloe said. “You know, as soon as we get one of those,” she joked. She raised the unfinished ginger beer bottle above the countertop and brought it to Krueger’s and Khai’s cocktails. “To friends..!” she said.

 ~~~~

Peter Cross pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled, seated opposite the other man at a small square table. The other seated person, visibly terrified, tried desperately to control his breathing under a third man in the room with them, clad in dark tactical gear and concealing his face with a Kevlar mask. The masked man was dead silent, his hands resting on the shoulders of the man seated opposite Cross.

“You’re not making a ton of sense, Davey,” Cross said. “So what I need you to do is take a breath—right now, breathe in through your nose,” he gestured breathing deep from his seat to the man seated opposite him in the dark room. “And slowly let it out through your mouth.” He guided the other man through the exercise. “Are we feeling better now?”

Davey, frantic and barely intelligible just a minute ago, took a moment to collect himself. “Yeah,” he lied, briefly looking Cross in the eye again averting his gaze again.

“Good,” Cross’s guided him with honeyed tones. “Now… Start again, from the beginning.”

“I talked to your contact,” he began. “We met up at Pharaohs, every day for the past week, just like you said.”

“He mentioned that. He had to get a feel for you.”

“We talk,” Davey continued. “Until finally, I made the buy today. Just like you said.”

Cross nodded behind his interlaced fingers.

“But then security comes out of nowhere, and before I know it I’m getting the hell kicked out of me in the alley behind Pharaohs…” He tensed up as the masked man’s grip tightened ever so slightly. “Then they bring me back in, sit me down in front of the boss. He tells me I would have been dead if not for his friend.”

“Describe his friend.”

Davey shrugged under the masked man’s hands. “Average height. White guy, brown hair, gray beard—late forties, probably. Had blue eyes… or were they green? Maybe one of each, I don’t remember.”

“Heterochromia,” Cross surmised.

“Hete-what?”

“Differently-colored… go on.”

“They kept the product and cut me loose,” Davey continued. Then his head hung as he recalled what happened next. “Then the boss’s friend pulls me aside, asked me who my supplier was.”

“What did he sound like?”

“Not super deep, average I guess… I thought I heard an accent when he spoke.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Huh?” The masked man adjusted his grip on Davey’s shoulders again, placing them centimeters closer to his neck.

“You said he asked you who your supplier was. What did you say?”

“I told him I didn’t know.”

“Then why’d you mention you gave him my name, earlier?”

“I thought he was gonna kill me if I didn’t give him something..! I didn’t think about what I was saying, I…” he began to tear up under the masked man’s hands. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cross,” Davey entreated. “I’m so, so sorry..!”

“I know you are,” Cross offered, leaning forward in his seat a little. “I do, and I accept your apology… but,” he continued, standing slowly, “it’s not my acceptance you want today, it’s the Viper’s.” He looked up at the masked man standing behind Davey. “Viper, do you accept his apology?”

The Viper said nothing; he loosened his grip on Davey’s shoulders, and even let go completely with his right hand.

Cross shrugged, looking back down at Davey. “Looks like he accepts your apology too,” he said. He turned around and headed toward the door with his hands in his coat pockets.

Davey took a deep breath to calm himself, relieved, just before the Viper retrieved a knife from his belt and ran its blade across his neck, severing his right carotid artery.

The Viper moved his left hand from Davey’s shoulder to under his chin to pull his head back while his right hand held Davey’s arm in place to prevent him from covering his wound and stopping the gushing. He ignored Davey’s muffled gurgles as blood spurted from the gaping neck wound all over the floor and table in front of him.

“However,” Cross said as he paused in his tracks and slowly turned over his shoulder to face Davey again, “I and the Viper can not afford failure, and we do not tolerate it.”

Davey tried to stand as he struggled, eventually freeing his left hand to try and peel the Viper’s away, but his efforts were thwarted by the larger man’s strength—the Viper pulled his head back further and pressed down with his other hand to keep Davey in place.

“We’re at the cusp of something huge,” Cross continued. “Bigger than anything we’ve ever accomplished, and those who would want to stop us are some powerful people. So until we set ourselves up with people powerful enough to destroy them, we have to stay off of their radar.”

Davey’s movements became more sluggish, and his left hand eventually fell from the Viper’s as life escaped him.

“Discretion, my friend,” he concluded. “That’s how we win here.”

Davey finally went limp in the Viper’s arms, and he let the man fall forward onto the table and slide onto the floor to his left. His blood leaked out from the wound as he hit the floor; the Viper, looking down at his victim, didn’t move when the growing puddle reached his boots. The only sounds in the room with them for six whole seconds was the dripping of Davey’s blood off the table onto the floor, and the Viper’s muffled breathing.

Cross exhaled, quickly scanning himself for Davey’s blood before looking back up to address his associate again. “Did you have to make such a mess?” he asked.

The Viper slowly turned his head upward away from Davey’s corpse to look at Cross again, peering through the eye holes of his face shield to meet his gaze.

“Of course you did,” he added sotto voce. “Clean this up,” he continued audibly. “After you’re done here find my seller and take care of him. Then cancel whatever other plans you have for the week.” He turned back around and headed for the door. “If I’m right about what about to happen, we’re gonna need you around to deal with Archangel.”

(Masterlist | Peter Cross | the Viper | Chapter 11)