#even after he’s no longer literal dirt just figurative dirt

[theaxolotlkween]

Silly little comic I made.

[personapeters]

✰ 𝐛𝐟!𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐱 𝐩𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞!𝐠𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

— rich boyfriend rafe and his whole heartedly pogue girlfriend

rating: sfw — cw: none

— boyfriend!rafe who… actually gets annoyed when you spend your money instead of his: “look, baby, i know you can but why when i’m literally throwing my card at you?” he questioned. “i’m not taking it, rafe,” you rebutted. “yeah? okay, don’t,” he mumbled, casually dropping a banded stack of cash onto your lap.

— boyfriend!rafe who… absolutely judged a book by it’s cover when you first met, knowing you were from a side of town he didn’t favor, but your beauty was something he couldn’t ignore. though, his outlook barely shifted; technically, not all pogues were trash, but he considered you to be the one and only exception.

— boyfriend!rafe who… is used to getting what he wants, so he was highly taken aback when you declined his first offer to go out. it was new and completely foreign, but it only made him want you even more — he’s always had a desire to obtain the ‘unobtainable’

— boyfriend!rafe who… caught so much shit from topper and kelce when they found out about his relationship with a pogue; so much so that rafe almost fought them over it, telling them to ‘get the fuck over it’ and to never speak on you again.

— boyfriend!rafe who… on occasion would reluctantly let your pogue friends go out on his yacht with the two of you for the day, which ultimately would end with him dropping them off an hour (or four) early. he wants them miles away from his pristine boat but loves how happy you look when you were all together.

— boyfriend!rafe who… hears you mention liking something once and makes sure it’s in your hands before the following day ends. they were always simple things like a cute t-shirt or sunglasses, which, to him, were so cheap and mundane that he found it rather adorable when you’d cherish them like literal gold.

— boyfriend!rafe who… isn’t too fond of where you live — your house being small, somewhat falling apart, and overall something far below rafe’s standards. he wishes you’d take him up on his offer to simply get you an apartment on his side of town: “okay, but it’d be so much better for you… and you’d be closer to me,” he mumbled, a small smile pulling at the corners of his pink lips.

— boyfriend!rafe who… takes you riding on his dirt bike to go sightseeing across figure eight, often taking the long way home just to feel your arms wrapped around his waist for just a little longer. you once asked if you could drive it, which would have been your first time, to which he immediately said, “fuck no, what — you tryin’ to break your neck? no.”

— boyfriend!rafe who… tried his first ever boxed mac and cheese with you, as random as it was, after you insisted it’s the greatest inexpensive food on earth; him beforehand saying, “what? y/n, that’s fucking powder…” but after he tried a bite of yours, he reluctantly said, “it’s not that bad… i might see the appeal.”

— boyfriend!rafe who… gives you ‘ultimatums’ when buying you clothes (although, you always insist you don’t need them), saying he’ll get you whatever you want as long as you try on some of his picks first. he would have gotten whatever you wanted regardless, he just liked seeing you model for him, which, secretly, you knew.

— boyfriend!rafe who… buys you extremely expensive jewelry and lies about the price, saying it’s a hundred times cheaper than it is to avoid you trying to give it back. he enjoys watching the dainty bracelet on your wrist or gold studs in your ears glint in the sunlight, knowing that you’re clueless on that fact that they’re the nicest money could buy — he needs only the best for his girl.

— boyfriend!rafe who… truly hated physical touch until you showed him it could be gentle — that it could be sweet, and warm, and kind, and didn’t have to leave him bloody or sore. he loves when you run your nails gingerly across his scalp or hold his hand in your lap, twisting absentmindedly at the rings adorning his long fingers; a type of touch (and love) he’d never felt before

— boyfriend!rafe who… craves your validation, no matter how big or small. he just needs to hear that he did something right, something good, something you’re proud of. he wants to hear you tell him he did a great job at making you dinner or picking out a dress for your spontaneous outings — your approval means so much more to him than you’d ever know.

— boyfriend!rafe who… uses his high status to (begrudgingly) help your pogue friends get out of whatever trouble they land themselves into, knowing it means alot to you and takes a weight off your shoulders: “m’doing this for you, alright? not them, you.”

— boyfriend!rafe who… is pretty heavy on pda. he doesn’t care whose watching when he lazily drapes a possessive arm around your shoulders, or when he kisses you messily with full force; whether it be a kook or pogue witnessing his shameless affections, he didn’t care — who’d dare to say something about it?

 personapeters 2024 — all rights reserved • masterlist

[writingroom21]

Hey boo boo bear imagine this kook rafe x shy pouge reader get stuck in a room together…… they have sex. I don't know how to plot this😭

Rafe only tolerates reader in his sister group since reader is shy and quiet and because she's a good baker and cooker since he eats the food reader makes for Sarah (the reader doesn't know obviously)❤️❤️❤️ plz make it super smutty

Escape Room

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f receiving), spanking, spitting, use of belt, unprotected sex (wrap it up y'all), choking, (let me know if I missed any)

Wc: 2.9K

A/N: This was just a great idea and I literally loved writing it.

“He said he would be there in fifteen minutes to pick up the brownies. Thank you again so much.” Sarah rushes out her words feeling bad that Rafe was already late. “It’s okay not like my job is super demanding anyway. I just sit here and watch the cameras. Plus it’s slow and no one has reservations.” Working at an escape room has its perks. You get to sit back and relax, watching as people try to figure out the puzzles. 

“Okay. Again I’m so sorry he’s late. Let me know if he was a dick after he leaves.” Sarah says before hanging up the call. Rafe was supposed to be here two hours ago and he is still not here. Sarah had asked you to make her brownies from the pool party she was having when she invited you. Sadly you had work but still had agreed to make them.

You’ve been making desserts and dinners for her since middle school. It started when you made some pasta dishes with your mom. You had brought some extra to school the next day and she had tried it at lunch. She fell in love with it and promised you to always save her extra when you cook. Even when you too went to different High schools she didn’t let that stop her.

She would ride her bike to your house all the way in the cut after school to try some new dishes. It was a little routine the two of you enjoyed. Then you started to make extra of every dish and dessert to bring to Tanny Hill. Everyone in the house loved your cooking and baking. Even the eldest Cameron sibling couldn’t find himself to hate it. No matter how hard his brain told him not to eat your dirt pogue food he still does.

He guesses over time his disdain for pogues dissipated only for you. He found himself excited to try a new dish or eat your famous cookies when Sarah brought them home. When Sarah had asked him to pick up at first he was really willing to get them. Accepting the chance to get close to you without having her around. Then he realized he would actually have to be around you without a buffer.

Rafe decided that the longer he waits to pick up the brownies then maybe the less time you have to take to him. That’s why he told Sarah he would be there in fifteen all while he was still on the course playing golf with Topper and Kelce. 

Another forty minutes pass and he is still not here. The last group of people leave the alien invasion room. Sighing you get up and start to clean up the room. This is the one downside of everything, you have to clean the whole things up. Resetting every clue is a hassle in itself, not to mention people make messes on purpose. You were so busy trying to put one of the clues together that you didn’t hear someone calling out for you.

Rafe walks around calling out your name to find you. “Where are you? I just need the brownies and then I’ll be gone.” He sees one of the doors open and a figure lurking around. Getting closer he can see that it’s you so he walks into the doorway. “Hey! Can I get them now?” You turn around to see Rafe, clutching your chest at the scare that he gave you.

He goes to walk further into the room and bumps into the door holder making it fly out of place. “Don’t let the-” The door slams shut due to the weight of it, it’s slam echoing in the room. “Door close.” Rafe turns around to open it. “God, it's not a huge deal.” The door handle shakes but it doesn’t budge.

“Why isn’t it opening?” There’s a twinge of irritation in his voice. Whipping around to look at you he finds you sitting down on one of the seats. Like clock work the automatic voice booms through the speakers. 

“Welcome brave fighters. The Aliens have attacked and you are our only hope of fighting them. In exactly one hour they will take over the world and destroy it. This bunker contains the key to saving the world. Find it before time runs out or we are all doomed. Good luck.”

Just like that the clock above the door turns on and the seconds start to count down. “What the fuck is happening?” Rafe is rattling the door trying to pry it off the hinges. “It’s an automatic system. Once the door closes the game starts and you can’t get out.” You are willing to let the time run out already texting your boss to tell them you got locked in a room.

This wouldn’t be the first time this has happened. At least those times weren’t you and there was someone else to open the door. It’s just your luck that today of all days you are the only one working. Your boss texts you back without being any help.

Well I’m on vacation right now. I’ll text the group chat to see who can come get you out. You might just have to solve it or wait it out.

“Who the fuck thought that was a good idea?” You laugh at him and go over to the first clue, solving it and getting the key out of the box. “It’s an escape room dumbass. It’s kinda the whole point. Plus everyone here knows not to close the door, that’s why the block was there.” Rafe closes his eyes as he realizes the thing his foot accidently hit was the only thing holding the door back.

“I didn’t know sorry.” Your back is turned to you as you are finding the keyhole on the table that opens it. Rafe watches in awe as the table top clicks open and you lock it into place. Sarah has always said that they should all come here to try one out and he brushed it off when they actually made plans. He thought these types of things were stupid but now that he’s seeing you do it just makes him think it’s him who's stupid. 

There would be no way that he would figure any of this out. He knows that you know how to do all of the clues due to having to set them up. But damn how would anyone be able to figure that out? Walking closer he can see that the table opens up into a map of the world and each country is out of order. You just set each one perfectly in place and a trap door opens on the far side of the wall.

“Didn’t realize you were so smart for a pogue?” You roll your eyes at him and push past him to go to the other room. “How long will it take you to figure this all out? I don’t have all day.” It is funny that he would say that considering he made you wait on him for most of the day. “That’s rich coming from you.” You get into the room and look at the fake control panel that’s in it. This is the one part of this room you take forever to fix. 

You can’t remember which switches control which thing. They all work in some way but only four of them cause the map to light up for the next clue. “What upset that I have a life and you don’t? I had shit to do, you aren’t important.” The laugh you let out is like you are mocking him and he hates it. “I could give two shits that you were late. Wouldn’t expect anything less from you. All you care about is yourself.”

“That’s not true.” If he thought that other laugh was annoying this one makes his blood boil. “You are literally the most selfish person I know. You’re rude, arrogant, and honestly a disgusting person. I would rather be stuck in a room with a million spiders then feel you breathing down my neck.” You didn’t realize how close you had gotten to him. All up close and personal to him. 

“I’m literally trying to figure all of this out so we can get out of her and you didn't even offer to help. All you can do is sit there on you ass like a fucking child.” Rafe’s anger gets the best of him and he wraps a hand around your neck. “Careful there. Don’t get on my bad side. You’re lucky I even tolerate you.” His fingers tighten a little bit, the blood flow slowing slightly. “If this is you tolerating me then maybe you should get fucking checked. There is obviously something wrong with you.”

The room gets quiet and all that can be heard is his heavy breathing. His chest is brushing against yours with each breath. Your eyes flicker back and forth looking into the blue eyes you’ve known for years. Without a second thought his lips are crashing onto yours. You meet his enthusiasm, kiss him just as hard. 

His other hand wraps around your hair tugging it to manipulate your head to deepen the kiss. Walking backwards you bump into the counsel, buttons digging into you as he lifts you to sit on it. “So much tough talk and look at you now.” The way he looks at you is belittling as if you aren’t a real person.

“Do you always have to be so annoying?” He smiles at you and dives back in to kiss you. Hands roam your body and squeeze the flesh under his palms. The kiss gets more intense as he nips at your lips. You let out a wince pulling back. Lifting a hand to touch your lip and feel the warmth seeping from the cut. “Are you serious?” Rafe smiles all cocky at you, feeling good that you were in pain. 

The smirk didn’t last because you delivered a smack across his face. He slowly turns his head back, shocked by the action. “Oh you’re going to regret that.” He kisses you again, ignoring your wince of pain and biting your lip even harder. The hands roaming your body move in between the two of you so he can unbutton your pants. Your fingers dig into his shoulder as you lift yourself up, helping him take your pants off.

His right thumb starts to stroke you over your panties, feeling how wet you are. “Look at how wet you are. Shy little girl who’s actually just a slut in disguise.” You moan at the words and the feeling of his thumb rubbing you just right. The fabric makes it feel even better. Your hands reach towards his belt and unbuckles it. His pants and boxers are shoved down his legs.

“Can you just shut up and fuck me already. Starting to think that you keep talking just to stall.” Your hand wraps around his dick and starts stroking. The tilt of your head does him in. He grabs your face and pinches your cheeks together. “Don’t worry baby, just giving you some more time with your thoughts before I scramble them.” Without warning he pushes your panties to the side and thrusts into you.

The moan you let out is like a taste of heaven. The sweetest sound that he’s ever heard. His pace is brutal, not giving you any time to adjust to his size. In his head he’s thought about this before. This exact moment has played out in different ways in his dreams. In those he takes his time with you, stretching you out with his fingers and eating you out until his face is covered in you. That was always a part of his vision yet here he is skipping all of it.

It’s like there is something about you that clouds his thoughts and sense of morality. He can’t seem to keep his cool around you or to stop himself from being him. His grip on your cheeks get tighter, his hips snapping into you. He keeps watching your face as your eyes roll back.

If he wasn’t holding your face then you would have fallen backwards. As if he heard your thoughts he pushes you backwards, your back hurts from the keys. You know that tomorrow there will be marks left from them. His other arm wraps around your back lifting your hips in the air. From this angle he’s hitting deeper and getting your g-spot in the best way.

He’s holding you in a position to give himself the best form of pleasure and yet you are getting it too. At first he really didn’t care if you enjoyed it, only wanting to teach you a lesson. That mindset faded away just by looking at you. This was better than what he had imagined and he couldn’t be happier. He lifts you back up and pulls out, flipping you to lay over the counsel.

Lights flicker as some buttons are pushed from your hands slamming down to catch yourself. Rafe kneels down behind you and attaches his lips to your clit. Your head drops down to rest on your forearm. “Oh fuck that feels good.” Rafe hums at the taste of you, shaking his head slightly side to side. He stays there for a few minutes bringing you to the very edge of your orgasm before stopping.

Pulling back his hands play with your ass, his eyes catching the glint from his belt buckle. An idea pops into his head. Picking up the belt he folds it in half, dragging it up your leg as he stands up. “What are you doing?” You turn your head to look at him and see him smirking down at you. Without saying anything to you he lifts up the belt and smacks your ass with it. You let out a yelp from the stinging sensation.

He does it once again, your yelps morphing into moans. The pain is dull or maybe you are just too focused on the way he’s kissing up your spine. His other hand grips  himself, lining his dick back up to your entrance. Teeth dig into the side of your neck as he sinks into your soaked pussy. Your eyes pinch shut, mouth wide open as he keeps thrusting in.

You are enveloped in pleasure, so much so that all of your senses seem to disappear. Your ears are ringing, eyes watering from pleasure, all you can feel is him all around you and something cool around your neck. Opening your eyes was like a wake up call. You can feel the smooth leather moving around your skin as he loops it through the buckle. Lifting a hand to touch your neck confirms it all. 

He put the belt around your neck.

Rafe wraps his hand with the excess leather, keeping a tight grip on it. He yanks a little on it to tighten it. Not enough to fully choke you but enough to make it pleasurable. He gives it another tug when he realizes you like it, causing your back to arch. Your head is practically touching his shoulder now. He moves a hand up your body to grab your face, turning it to look at him.

Once your eyes are staring back at it he speaks. “Open your mouth.” You don’t know why he even told you anything, he used his grip to pry it open anyway. Rafe spits into your open mouth, kissing you immediately after. His thrusts are increasing in pace, slamming into your hips. The familiar feeling of your orgasm washes over you, making your body convulse. Your moans are loud, tearing through your throat.

Rafe helps you through your orgasm before pulling out and stroking himself, cumming all over your ass. “Oh fuck. You look so pretty like this, covered in my cum. All fucked out because of me.” He’s mesmerized as he plays with his cum, scooping it with his fingers he brings it to your mouth. On instinct you lick them clean, moaning at the taste of him.

The sounds of a buzzing noise scares the two of you away from the moment. “The aliens have succeeded in their plan to overrun the world. Better luck next time.” The two of you stare at each other for a moment and mutually decide to just get dressed. Rafe’s eyes move to your neck as you remove the belt. It’s a bit red but he’s mostly focused on the teeth indents left. 

He has a smug look on his face as you both get dressed that continues once you give him the brownies. Thank god no one was in the lobby waiting to do a room because you don’t know what you would have done if there was. You couldn’t even look Rafe in the eyes after what just happened. If he thought you were shy before then this was a new level. 

Just as he was about to leave he turned back around. You are staring at the floor watching his feet to see when it’s safe to look back up. When they don’t move you reluctantly look up at him. “I might have to come back here. Never knew being locked in a room could be so fun.” With that he walks out leaving you there shell shocked.

He’s right, being locked in a room could be fun.

[wandixx]

Date in the Ghost Zone

@seamistagle

Sorry it took so long, I've cjaged ideas, like, five times along the way because my dating expirience is almost none existant. To make up for that, I decided to write them kissing (i also have no expierience in that) but anyway, I hope you'll like it

“Hi starlight!” a voice rang from her ceiling. At this point, she didn't even startle, too used to Danny's dramatics. Popping out of nowhere, halfway through solid objects was so low on the list of shenanigans that she didn't even respond until she finished a scene of the “Hello, Megan!” episode she was rewatching. That's what he got for not using the door and knocking like civilized humans should.

“Hello sunshine“ She leaned back in her chair and smiled at her boyfriend “What brings you to my humble chamber?”

“You're busy this weekend and it's not a question. We're going on a date” he said, determined and anxious in a way that usually translated to ‘I have an unconventional date idea and I hope you like it’. Her smile widened. She loved Danny's unconventional ideas.

“Sure love, do I need to bring something with me?” She started slowly flying up, careful to not be fast enough to bring Danny's attention to it. He took a moment to consider her question but eventually shook his head.

“I'll get everything ready. Just come to Amity on Saturday morning and let everyone know we will be offline whole weekend”

Her smile got a bit softer. Whole weekend with Danny sounded like a dream, especially after a period when life stuff kept them apart for almost a month.

“Alright,” she just needed to stall a little longer. “Can I make cookies though?“

Just a bit higher, less than two feet.

Danny visibly brightened, looking every bit like an angel from an old painting. 

“I'll never say no to your cookies”

“I know,” she said and kissed him. His lips were cold and dry as if he spent just a bit too long on the snow, like always when she made out with him as a ghost. She loved every millisecond of the experience. 

Obviously, she also loved when he was human, warm and soft and breathing.

She just adored every bit of her boyfriend, okay?

She let go to take a breath, relishing in a way Danny blushed and spluttered. He was an adorable mess every time she so much as smooched him. 

(She said, as if she wasn't exactly the same).

“I love you. See you on Saturday“

“Yeah… See you”

***

Danny carefully stared at M'gann when he phased blindfold off her face. It wasn't as much of a surprise as he wished it could be, there wasn’t many places where could he go to from his house, especially ones that she didn’t see already. But he wanted to give her just this little thing, so he lead her in a little bit further.

She seemed to like it, if his reading of her emotional projection was correct. Apparently he should know it instinctually but he was just tad too alive for the instinct to kick in. From what he knew about M'gann, she liked it. Maybe.

“It's… really green”

Danny blinked. How was he supposed to respond to that?

They both snorted the moment they caught each other's eyes.

“I mean… you warned me but wow–” she said, clearly suppressing out right laughter “–even air is green”

“That's Ghost Zone for you! Green over green with green undertones”

That won him a laugh. Ancients, there weren't many things more beautiful than this laugh and he was willing to do far too much for it. 

“Alright, let's go, I have so much to show you. We won't be able to get to Martian sector now, but if you want, we can save more time next–”

“Later. Show me around now, please”

“As you wish”

He grabbed her wrist to lead the way.

***

Danny didn’t stumble when landing on the snow, he didn’t. He just kinda slipped and almost ate dirt or well, ice. M’gann of course was graceful as if she was born in the air. Actually, for all he knew, she could be.

This was not a moment to think about it.

“Welcome to Far Frozen, literally and figuratively the chillest place in the Ghost Zone” he said with a cheeky grin, trying to sound like and overenthusiastic tour guide. They both quite enjoyed when he was in this role.

“This is the Yeti part, right?”

“Exactly! And the main prize goes to- oh!”

Something small and fluffy hit him in the stomach, tiny hands wrapping around him and forcing breath out of his lungs.

“Phantom!”

“Icefang! It’s great to see you kiddo!” he said, hugging little yeti back. “And you guys too!” he yelled, so group running up to them could hear him.

There was something incredibly funny in a fact that there was group of ghost children who treated him as this cool older friend. No way anyone on the living side could ever consider him that.

“Who is that?” one of them asked, pointing at M’gann like there was anyone else they could mean. She smiled and waved at them.

“This is Miss Martian, my girlfriend!” Ancients, they were together for months and being able to call her that still made him giddy “I’m giving her a tour through coolest places in the Realms”

“It’s nice to meet you all, Phantom talked a lot about you”

He wouldn’t say he talked a lot about them, but he certainly mentioned them from time to time… Like the time when he spent half an hour excitedly explaining how Snowstorm managed one fight move he thought them or how Snowdrop made him really cute drawing or… okay, so maybe this counted as a lot.

“Hi, what is girlfriend?” Icefang asked, cocking his head to the side while other kids stopped behind him and also peered curiously.

“Did you say girlfriend?! It’s a special friend with kissing and saying dumb things!” Snowstorm yelled running up to them, clearly winded. Danny hoped they were late because they had to finish dinner or something instead of getting into yet another trouble. They were magnet, really, Fenton Luck wasn’t as bad as- “Like Snowflake and Frost Junior!” nevermind, little shit could be in all the trouble they found. These two were famous among his little group as an embarrassing teen couple and equating him and M’gann to them was an untrue insult, thank you very much.

Kids giggled, because of course they did. Danny rolled his eyes. M’gann seemed to catch enough to realize the weight of the ‘they’re just like Snowflake and Frost Junior’ insult.

“I’d say that Snowstorm is lying but I know you won’t believe me. Sorry I won’t play with you, today I wanted to just walk around with Miss Martian. We will play extra long next time, alright?”

M’gann leaned on him a bit, projecting tiniest bit of playful possessiveness, as if she tried to tell kids ‘mine now’ and barely stopped herself from laughing. Icefang looked up, up, up at her, eyes narrowed and mouth twisted, like she was most hated person in the whole world. Maybe she was actually. From kids perspective she was someone, who was taking away his cool friend.

“We should put her through Trial of Ice” he almost hissed, like it was the worst thing they could do to her. It certainly wasn’t, but he still would prefer to not go through that.

Danny cursed inwardly, because he really should’ve remember about that when he decided to bring M’gann here. It was supposed to be calm pretty date not… that.

There was quiet ping in the back of his mind, a warning that the Mindlink was established.

“Am I supposed to be scared?” she asked, without an ounce of fear.

“You’ve certainly fought harder battles, but they probably won’t leave us alone unless we do it”

“Isn’t Trial of Ice a family thing?”

“Have your family done that?” Snowstorm asked, in this truly condescending way that only preteens managed to access.

“Well, they haven’t met her and they’re human so…”

“You see? We’re picking up their slack. Now, enough yapping, Phantom go over there, to your place”

“We can evacuate if you don’t want to indulge them”

It certainly wouldn’t make kids happy, but he didn’t want to pressure Meg into anything.

“Why would we?”

Well, who was he to disagree with all of them. He walked over to the place Snowstorm pointed.

“How will it look like?” she asked out loud, leaning down a bit to be closer to kids level “It’s probably obvious to you, but I don’t know the rules”

She looked at them like it was genuinely important to her, like it was almost life and death and Danny was once again reminded why he loved this girl so much and that he could and would commit great crimes for her.

Icefang perked up like an overeager puppy. If there was one sure way to buy his favor it was by letting him share his knowledge. Or have cookies, cookies also worked.

“You have to prove your decli- degi- deti-”

“Dedication”

“Right, that, thank you Briarheart, and show that you’re worth being Phantom’s special kissing friend. To do that, you need to get through us and kiss him while we will do all we can to stop you, mostly by throwing stuff at you. You can use your powers but if we hit you ten times you loose and can’t be Phantom’s kissing friend anymore”

“You can’t fly out of the throwing range for more than ten seconds and can’t phase through the ground”

“Alright, I get it. I have one question. One of my powers is that I can move things without touching them, can I just use it to move Phantom to me?”

“No, he has to stay were he is”

“That’s what I thought, thank you”

Snowdrop tugged at small bit of Snowstorm’s fur and started signing rapidly. Danny was learning Yeti Sign Language but it was slow going, mostly because of everything else he had to get done at the same time. But he was learning when he had time! He even understood a few signs! Not enough to actually catch what she was saying but… Yeah, no, he should do better.

“Good point Snowdrop”

“I didn’t see what did she say?”

“You can just say you can’t read yet Icefang. She said that we should put Phantom through Trial of Ice too. It’s always to ways thing”

“Aw, thank you sweetheart”

“We won’t be good for the task though” Briarheart Junior pointed out, always the rational one “Phantom is our friend so we won’t put up good fight against him. Someone else needs to do that”

Yeti kids all started nodding with various levels of enthusiasm. Snowstorm seemed to already think about logistics and candidates since, again, it was Snowstorm, their involvement could only mean chaos.

“Give us two weeks, we’ll be back with candidates by then”

M’gann looked like she tried to hold back laughter. Instead, she nodded and thanked them again. Snowstorm told everyone to move to their positions, with M’gann exactly one hundred twenty three ‘big steps’ away from him. Then Icefang got to use new trick he learned and made wall around Danny. It was less than one feet high, but they really didn’t need anything higher. He was sufficiently praised for it, which made him smile brightly enough to rival the sun.

For all it’s worth, Trial of Ice was pretty boring when he was the prize. Don’t get him wrong, he was proud of the kids whenever they did some trick he thought them and M’gann ‘fighting’ was one of the hottest thing he could imagine, but still. He itched to join.

Or maybe not. He liked what he was seeing. M’gann changed her clothes into something resembling her night suit, just in white and pale blue to better match surroundings. It looked good on her, emphasizing lines of her body and how they changed in the movement, in such way that he couldn’t drag his eye away from her. He didn’t often get the chance to admire her like in action, to look at the way she was in the air, when she evaded attacks, all grace and power and precision. Usually he was right next to her, or if sidelined, too stressed for her life to ever really look.

He could appreciate this chance.

It made him once again wonder how he managed to get someone as amazing to date him. Like, really, how did it happen?!

This train of thought was abandoned when after last refined loop M’gann descended right in front of him. He looked at her face, maybe bordering on staring but how could he not? How could he not stare at her freckles highlighted by the teal blush from all the exercise? How could he not stare at her perfectly shaped lips, now that he knew how they felt against his?

Damn it, he wanted to kiss this girl five minutes ago.

M’gann leaned forward, close enough that puffs of their breaths mixed together.

“You realize I can still hear all of your thoughts?”

He did, actually, not realize that.

“Good thing, I’m not thinking about anything you shouldn’t hear then”

She finally did kiss him after that, though unfortunately it was just a quick smooch (he said as if it didn’t leave him just a little bit brain scrambled for a moment and wait did she use blackberry lip balm? It was hard to tell when their lips barely touched). Then she grabbed his elbow and dragged him up and away before he fully caught up what was going on. Mock noises of disgust turned into open protest when kids realized they were getting away.

Danny and M’gann kinda laughed as they were sprinting away before kids could caught up to them. It took him a moment to calm down enough to scrap whatever he knew about Far Frozen, so he could point them somewhere where they could hide out until kids got distracted (about half an hour at most).

They dipped into some small ice cavern and curled up next to each other, still slightly shaking from giggles. There was enough room to sit straighter and keep personal space but they didn’t want to.

M’gann laid her head on his shoulder.

“This is so weird, you know? Nice, but weird. Like uncanny valley but without uncomfortable part. Or at least not as much of uncomfortable part”

***

M’gann wasn’t sure why she kept talking after Danny hummed with small projection of curiosity. It would probably just sour the mood, but it was maybe a little too late now that she started.

“It’s just… you know, it’s all so similar to M’arzz. Which is great! Don’t get me wrong, I loved it! I missed it, even if I didn’t realize it! But you know, it not the same,” her voice broke a bit, and she felt an arm circling her back. She took a moment to gather herself “They were all so emotive and loud, I almost started reading their minds because it couldn’t not be deliberate. But it was. Kids didn’t look to different from my peers back home, I could certainly imagine them playing with shape-shifting and testing this type of form for longer time. It’s colder than Earth but too cold to actually be M’arzz. Everything is going on above the ground which isn’t dangerous here but I was raised knowing it was not safe. We also have this thing about proving our worth but it’s with heat instead of ice and right before the wedding instead of right from the get go. It’s all just kinda itching.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah”

“Um, sorry. I haven’t thought about it. I should. Do you want to go back? We can chill in Amity if you want to. Or, you know do something else on the living side”

“No, no, no it’s fine, I like it. It’s nice. It’s familiar, but in a good way. There isn’t really a way for me to just go back and it’s nice to have it even if a little bit”

Danny shifted a bit, as if he tried to look at her, but she kept her face buried in is arm. She shouldn’t have said anything. She should’ve swallowed nostalgia and just keep going. It was such a great time before too.

There was nudge at her mind, clearly deliberate even if clumsy. Absolutely incomprehensible, like Martian’s babies and toddlers did it.

Another nudge, more defined but still unable to carry any ideas more sophisticated than vague invitation to connect.

“Danny?”

“Do you want to talk telepathically? To make it better?”

Oh. Oh.

“Sure. Thank you,” she took a deep breath, trying to collect herself once again “Are you trying to make me cry today? You’re lucky I don’t wear make-up or it would be all ruined”

“You would be stunning anyway. I don’t think there is anything you could do to not be, let’s be honest”

“And now you’re trying to sweeten me up, you dork” She roughly dried her eyes against his suit. It’s absolutely useless to this purpose but she wanted to hide for a bit longer.

“I am not sweetening anyone up, it would have to be untrue for it to be that’

“Oh shut up”

“Never~”

“It’s not even my true form”

“M’gann, Meg, my starlight and love of my Afterlife. When I saw your true form I was so enamored my brain ceased higher functions. I watched ‘Hello, Megan!’ because you liked it, but the main character was just… kinda meh in terms of looks. Do you understand? I think you’re beautiful because it’s you, not because of anything else. No matter what form you’d choose to be in, I’ll love it and want to be as close to you as you’ll let me”

M’gann finally raised her head and with small startle she realized that between their faces were only inches. There was still small blush on his cheeks and his eyes were almost hipnotizing, with the way they focused on her like she was only thing that mattered. His hair was ruffled from wind, just asking to run finger through it. Once again their puffing breaths were mixing but this time they were alone. They could savor it, they could-

“Great One? I was informed you came with your suitor?”

Of course. They couldn’t even kiss in peace.

Thankfully, encounter with Frostbite, even if awkward, was quite short. She didn’t have anything against the yeti, really, she couldn’t even begin to tell how much she appreciated help he extended to Danny but still…

It was not the type of moment she wanted to be interrupted on.

Thankfully older ghost caught it, despite both of them trying to be subtle, and didn’t seem to be too angry about it, so soon they were on their merry way to ‘'one more place’ Danny wanted to show her.

He even brought back up the blindfold, which made her stomach do funny things. She was excited to see what Danny wanted to show her, but also…

There was something really intimate about flying blind, not in a way even their deepest kisses were, but in the absolute trust she had to have in him. In the Ghost Zone she couldn’t even navigate with her telekinesis and telepathy like she could try on the living side. In the Ghost Zone, she had just Danny, and this made something as simple as getting off the ground, into the air all more electrifying in the way that would be almost scary, if she was with anyone else.

She got a little worried when instead of lightly holding her wrist like he did before, Danny caught both of her hands and grasped her like he didn’t plan to let go for the rest of eternity.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course”

And then they were off, faster than she’d ever dare when blind, faster than they usually did, faster than they sometimes went when racing even. Danny kept her close, practically clinging.

Then they were falling and twisting and turning like on some crazy roller coaster and it was breathtaking in both best and worst ways because they were close and it was exciting but she had no idea where they were going or when were they going to turn. Her stomach was doing funny things. Actually, she liked that. She liked that a lot. Especially when Danny slowed down a bit and brought her to his chest before kicking off again.

This was electrifying.

She let out a little yelp when they stopped abruptly and gently landed on the snow. For a long moment they both just stood, panting with soft giggles, getting of off adrenaline high.

***

Danny’s breath caught in his throat again when M’gann grasped sides of his face. It was a bit clumsy, with fingers getting on his mouth and ear but it just made it all more… more.

After few months in relationships he should probably get better at handling all the times she did things like that. As it was, he was barely able to focus on anything other than fingers in his hair and cold hands on his cheeks.

“It was amazing”

He shuddered when she whispered in his mind. It used to terrify him beyond belief, the idea that someone could hear all his thoughts, could touch his very being, made him rebel on the most instinctual level. Now, when M’gann did it, when by just being next to him she rewrote his brain to associate her with mind-reading, it was intoxicating.

“I know, you’re welcome” he managed to stuttered.

She leaned closer, obviously aiming for his mouth and it took all of his will to not meet her midway. They stayed just close, with Danny’s eyes fluttering each time warm puff of air hit them.

“Never do it again”

Instead of answering, he put his hands between her shoulder blades to bring her closer, reached up to cross the remaining distance and kissed her.

Oh, it was definitely blackberry lip balm. He loved it. He loved it all so much.

He loved the way her lips felt brushing against his, cold and smooth despite the time they spent in cold. He loved the way he could almost feel her heartbeat, pressed slightly above his own heart, how he could hear it above his own blood rushing in his ears, faster that it was when they were flying moments ago. He loved the way her hand moved through his hair to press against the back of his head, a wordless command to get closer. He happily complied, adjusting slightly and almost locking on her closed mouth. One of his hands moved lower as he rammed forward, kissing her with enough fervor that she had to arch back a bit. Like that he couldn’t reach her without climbing to his tiptoes, but he didn’t mind.

Her mouth opened slightly, so he took invitation for what it was and started to devour what she had. As he was, draped across M’gann’s chest, with her hands barely holding on his neck, her lips against his and her tongue brushing against his teeth, the whole world could disappear and he couldn’t be bothered. Being this close, with her, was all that mattered and all that could fill his brain.

It got sloppy, when hand laid on the small of his back, full body shiver making their teeth clank. Before he got himself at least a little bit together other hand appeared in his hair. It yanked him back on just the right side of painful, while the arm around his waist pressed him forward and all at once he couldn’t find his footing, bend back so much that if his hand didn’t grasp the edge of M’gann’s cape they could probably touch the ground. Other one by miracle stayed on her neck.

He was fully at her mercy and there was nowhere he could rather be, hanging in her arms all nice and docile. He was stuck in almost addicting cycle of telepathic projection of his excited-eager-confident and M’gann's giddy-greedy-restless response and how it made him all fervent-dizzy-thrilled and how much he could feel it, how intimate this type of closeness was, how kiss dissolved whatever it was that made sensing emotions so much harder and more muted at any other time.

He let himself be handled and adjusted sometimes grasping her hair when he felt too much, in the best way he could imagine, but frankly he forgot about everything else after that.

They had to let go at some point, to catch breath if nothing else but they stayed close. Close enough that he could smell the lip balm that by now was probably mostly on him. Close enough that their noses would touch if they turned their heads just right. Close enough that he could count her freckles and connect them into little constellations, as if her skin was map of the space that gave her to him.

It wasn’t rare, for them to be this close, but it never changed the fact, that when he caught her eyes, half closed but striking, sparkling in the cold blue-green light in the way that was almost iridescent, he couldn’t help but think he wouldn’t be mad to get lost in them. He wouldn’t be mad to be trapped forever, like mosquito in amber with which her eyes shared color.

“Okay, you can do that again”

He needed a long moment to realize why that would ever be in question or what she was referencing, or were they were and what they were doing before. By the time he scrambled his brain again, M’gann’s eyes were closed and she was going for another kiss. He tilted her by the chin just slightly away, because they came there for a reason and he wanted to fulfill said reason before he totally forgot.

M’gann looked back at him, slightly dazed, straightening just a bit. She brought him with her, so his position was just a touch less parallel to the ground, which was also nice.

“I have nothing against round to but before that, I wanted to show you something”

He waited for a moment until she full caught what he was saying. It was overwhelmingly exhilarating to see that she was affected by it just as much as he was. When she nodded, he turned her chin to the left, slowly so she could fully admire the view.

He didn’t turn. He knew what she could see, the breathtaking spectacle of Far Frozen, the wonderful mix of futuristic and traditional, shining in the Ghost Zone’s lights like under aurora. He knew this view well.

Arms around him went almost lax, so he slipped and fell on the snow. He could catch himself or stay were he was, close enough to smell her ever changing shampoo, but he preferred it that way.

“Oh… it’s… It’s beautiful”

He propped himself up on his hands and looked up at her, at the curves of her face and shape of her nose and the little scar she could shape-shift away but just didn’t want to. He looked at her hair, the way her red contrasted with Zone’s ambient green and snow’s reflected cold white and how disheveled it was from flight and the kiss and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to brush his fingers through them until they were neat again or ruffle them even more during another kiss.

He looked the golden clasp of her cape, slightly greener ever since they learned he could be summoned and figured out how to make M’gann always have this chance. He looked at the red ribbons crossing on her chest, only thing she kept from her ‘true’ form, only symbol she let herself keep from the home she could both hate and miss. He looked at her fingers, covered in freckles like the rest of her, short and slender, grasping at the improvised railing now that they weren’t holding him. He looked at the way her back curved as she leaned forward to see better. He looked back at her face, at her slightly opened lips and wide opened eyes and her raised eyebrows. He looked at her open, almost child like delight over something he, at this point, seen as almost mundane.

“Yeah, beautiful”

[mymarifae]

jade did nothing wrong

oh yeah she only put aventurine in a new, fancier form of slavery, reducing him to a tool. an asset. a pretty little thing to make her richer that she'll cast aside the moment he's no longer useful to her.

and don't give me any crap about how aventurine "wanted" this - he was literally a slave?? his options at this point in his life were EXTREMELY limited and just killing his "master" wouldn't have been enough to secure his freedom. as we saw in this very cutscene, he was about to go on trial for murder. the ipc didn't give a damn that the man he killed was a fucking slave owner; they were still going to punish him to the full extent of the law, so he would have been going to prison for a VERY long time (or for life), or he'd be sentenced to death. playing off the murder in a way that caught their attention and made them consider his... "worth as an asset", so to speak, was his best bet. he'd be freed from his (literal, at least) chains, and he would have the opportunity to earn money and thus survive in this capitalistic intergalactic hellscape the ipc has been building up for centuries.

ah, and while we're here, should we talk about how she tells him here that his birth name is "destined to be buried in the dirt?" after seeing her interactions with topaz, this isn't a stonehearts thing. they don't HAVE to cast off their birth names and embrace the identity of their cornerstone.

i suppose it's only a coincidence that topaz's name is of slavic and greek origin while aventurine's is romani, and this totally doesn't play further into the (not-exactly-the-most-subtle-anymore) subtext of the ipc's chokehold on the entire universe being an allegory for the racist, white supremacist capitalistic systems plaguing the real world today. which, for the record, is an idea that has existed throughout the game's duration thus far and was articulated a little more loudly in the 2.1 update, with the deep dives into aventurine's past and all, and then was really hammered in with boothill's backstory.

(let's set aside the very valid complaints about hoyoverse's allergy to melanin for a moment - we know aventurine and boothill are not white, and the way their home planets were treated in comparison to, say, topaz's, means something.)

and even if you don't want to connect these two very obvious dots and want to pretend the ipc is more of a neutral force (????), let me just point out how fucked it is for jade to sever aventurine's connection to his birth name. one of his last ties to his culture. topaz gets to keep hers, gets to claim both her past and her cornerstone as integral parts of her identity - but aventurine only gets his cornerstone. the ipc encompasses every part of who he is now. i suppose this qualifies as doing nothing wrong too and not as an act of manipulation and cruelty?

(digressing for a moment to point out a positive because honestly this is a heartbreaking thing to say. aventurine's future self calling him Kakavasha suggests that he didn't truly give in to this treatment and instead fiercely clung to every scrap of his past he had left.)

and just. before i move on from aventurine and topaz completely, i guess we can ignore how inappropriately she touched topaz?

"they're both adults" yeah! thank fucking god! but topaz is said over and over to be Very Young for the position she holds. she, much like aventurine, has been working for the ipc since her late teen years. neither of them were promoted to stonehearts - a position that typically requires a loooooooooot of experience over SEVERAL years with the company - right away, remember that. backtracking to this for a moment:

jade is very much a Grown Ass Woman here. while aventurine is probably like, freshly 18. he and topaz are similar in age. jade is definitely more than one decade older than both of them. maybe you don't care about that; maybe you don't care about a senior boss figure taking advantage of what appears to be a puppy crush born from starry-eyed admiration (which is in turn born from topaz literally being indoctrinated when her home planet was "integrated" into the ipc's system) to make topaz more agreeable to whatever she's told to do. and notice how jade dangles the promise of a promotion right after overhearing how difficult topaz's recent demotion has made her life...?

also if you want to argue about me referring to jade as a senior figure that's quite literally what topaz says about her, so...:

but whatever, right? not a thing done wrong here. Nope.

and we can definitely overlook the way she runs bonajade exchange, right? surely it's of no significant note that she shows no mercy in the contracts she writes up. people come in, trade away their most valuable possessions, and almost immediately find themselves in a hard place with no options... except for another visit to bonajade exchange. consequences of their own greed, sure, but i really want to point out how she doesn't try to help. she doesn't try to include a clause or two that may work in their favor if they're clever. she doesn't leave any loopholes. she forces them to be completely dependent on her, and takes, and takes, and takes... to what end? i don't know, and i'm scared to find out.

i'm not saying she has to or should show mercy to the people that visit her pawnshop. i'm fine with a character who just does evil things, and some of her customers probably deserve whatever end waits for them in the jaws of the snake. but if they were going to show that she has a softness about her, a hint of good intentions... this is where they would have done it. the fact that this is completely absent says an awful fucking lot about the kind of person she is, yeah?

and on that note, i'm guessing you want to just ignore how numby is TERRIFIED of her?

because yeah i'm sure that has nothing to do with the very common trope of animals being able to tell when a person is actively malicious and dangerous. everything is fine, isn't it?

[milkywaydrabbles]

Flufftober 35 with Alucard? Maybe a chubby reader, everyone likes a soft pillow :3

A/N: This was nice to write, I appreciate this type of ask ;A; I try to keep it neutral when describing reader normally (outside of the fact they're AFAB and fem!bodied) but I love reading/writing about a chubby girlie!! I hope you enjoy it!

"You're my new pillow" x Alucard

It didn’t take long for you and Alucard to become an item. He really couldn’t keep his eyes off of you for longer than two minutes whenever you were around (and that already was pushing it. Trevor would know, he actively counted so he can prove a point.) He tried to stay ‘mysterious’ and ‘alluring’ – but that was hard to do when all he wanted to do was talk to you about anything and everything that came to mind. Whatever would occupy you enough to not leave, to stay with him. It was embarrassing–Or so he would have thought if he wasn’t too enamored with looking at you and your soft figure. It was a breath of fresh air, he thinks, seeing your curves soft and round, fats of your hips squishing from the edges of your pants. He wonders if you realize you would be revered as a goddess in ancient Rome and Greece–he hopes you do. He’d even dare say that the goddesses don’t hold a candle to you, round face with cheeks that squish up when you smile at him so sweetly, chubby fingers that fiddle with the edge of your skirt when you’re picking dirt off it after dragging too close to the muck. His hands itched to simply hoist you up himself so you didn’t have to walk around the mud. Whatever to make your life easier.

Trevor and Sypha were starting to feel bad for him–it was so obvious that he had fallen so deeply in love with you over the last few weeks and yet wouldn’t do anything about it (something about being a gentleman, whatever.) So without his knowledge, Sypha started having ‘girl time’ with you, trying to push you into asking him, even if just out to dinner. Literally anything to get you alone with him. You were terrified really, but decided to take the jump and ask Alucard out on a date, just a simple dinner at your place–you promised you cooked well (and you made well on that promise! He thought it was delicious!)

Alucard asked for your hand in courtship that night.

And here you both are, however many years later in the castle you’ve come to know as your home, cuddling on the love seat in the study that you begged him to bring in, you wanted to press yourself up close to him as he read (of course the big sap did exactly that). And Alucard still looked at you with the same adoration as he did the first time he laid eyes on you–with hearts in his eyes, hands squeezing the chub of your hips and roaming your soft belly–he wouldn’t have you any other way. He decided he wanted to get more comfortable after feeling your soft and warm skin–

“Adrian, what are you doing?” You couldn’t help but giggle, hands moving away from your lap to give the grown man more space (his legs were hanging off the loveseat) before running your chubby fingers through his blonde curls. The dhampir simply smiled, fangs poking out the sides of his mouth as he closed his eyes. “You’re more comfortable than the seat–so I’ve decided you’re my new pillow.” You laughed again, rolling your eyes playfully at your loving husband. There were days that you couldn’t look at yourself, wishing you’d be able to lose the extra fluff that you had–thinking that Alucard deserved someone more...fit. Skinnier. Prettier. But he always made such an effort so that you’d understand he’d never leave you for anyone else, that he loved you so much for who you are, and that the extra fat was just more for him to love. He reminded you every day in different ways of that. And you figured that right now, might be one of those ways. You did love seeing him so comfortable in your lap... “Hmm..” You hummed, looking over to the crackling fire in the hearth scratching at his scalp. “You seem a bit too long for my lap, dear.” He cracked an eye to look at you, knowing you were already poking fun. And he loved the apples of your cheeks rounding up on your face with your smile.

“But I’d rather be nowhere else, my love.”

[myymi]

If you had asked Sonic how he felt about being alone four years ago, he would've told you it was the most freeing feeling in the world.

It's not that he disliked people or didn't want to be around anyone. He had plenty of friends.

But there was something special about being able to run away from everyone and everything. He loved being able to disappear in the blink of an eye without worrying about someone trying to keep up with him.

He got to live his life the way he wanted. It was his favorite thing.

And then he met Tails.

He's always thought he wasn't fit to be part of a family. He had never been able to find someone who could even remotely keep up with him, so he didn't bother trying to find a family.

But Tails was able to keep up. And he did so without ever asking Sonic to slow down so he could. He was fine running on the hedgehog’s time, no matter how tired it made him.

And now, as he watched the red echidna bury the small coffin that held his little brother, he couldn't help but hate how alone he was now.

The guardian had been the one to offer a place on Angel Island for him. A small, secluded area that he had previously decorated for when the kid decided to come visit.

Of course he wasn't literally alone. Knuckles, Amy, Shadow, and the rest of their friends were all there to say their final goodbyes to the little fox. But that didn't change the fact that it felt like a part of himself died.

He didn't know it when he first met the fox, but it truly felt like Tails filled in a hole in his heart that he hadn't known was missing. But now that the piece was ripped out of him, it was easy to notice.

He wasn't sure how much longer he'd last without that fox. Everyone knew it, there was no Sonic without Tails. They were inseparable.

But they had been ripped apart. Whatever tether that held their unbreakable bond had been snapped, forcing them to go their separate ways.

He just wishes it was him who was forced to lay in a grave too soon rather than his baby brother.

Tails didn't deserve it. The poor kid had been fighting every sort of battle imaginable since the moment he was born and he was only eight.

The universe had no right to take him now. Not when he fought so hard to survive. Not when he gave every last piece of himself to protect it.

He could still feel the phantom traces of his brother's blood soaking into his fingertips. He could still see the way the life inside his big, blue eyes faded.

He could still feel the way the little strength that Tails held left his body, forcing him to let go of the person who promised to keep him safe as he bled out in his arms.

This was Sonic's fault.

—

Sonic wasn't sure why he ran.

To be perfectly honest, he hadn't even known he ran until he nearly greeted the Tornado with a very aggressive accidental kiss.

He wasn't sure what to do with her now. He could never be able to take care of the Tornado half as well as Tails did. And while he wasn't a bad pilot by any means, he knew he wasn't the best either. (That title went to the fox that now slept in the ground, his cold body protected by the dirt surrounding his coffin.)

He'd need to figure out what to do with the Cyclone as well. He didn't have a clue on how to pilot that one, it was quite a bit more complex than the Tornado.

After he was done sadly staring at the red biplane, Sonic hopped into the cockpit.

The lingering smell of mint is what finally broke him.

One of the few ways he could tell his brother was sneaking up on him was the way he smelled. It was always a migraine-inducing minty aroma, the scent of his favorite candy clinging to the fox's fur.

As strong as the smell was, it was comforting. It was how he reminded himself of the day he'd finally got that kid to believe he wasn't going to hurt him.

The first time that Tails ever had mint candy. Or, well, candy in general.

Sonic will never forget the way his eyes lit up, shining practically as bright as stars do when he put that first piece of candy in his mouth. And even though he was offered sweeter candies that kids his age normally enjoyed, he was firm in only eating the mint ones.

It was strange, but it was such a small thing then that it didn't really matter to Sonic. He didn't care what the kid liked to eat as long as he ate something. Even if it did have a painfully strong smell.

Sonic didn't bother with trying to wipe away his tears. Why should he, anyways? It was his brother's funeral for Chaos’ sake. He should be allowed to cry. (That didn't erase how pathetic and disgusted he felt. Did he really deserve to mourn his brother when he's the reason there's a funeral in the first place?)

He didn't get long to ponder it when something gently touched him.

It admittedly scared the shit out of him, but he knew exactly who it was before even looking towards them.

“I don't mean to interrupt your grieving,” Knuckles said guilty, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I wanted to let you know that you're welcome to stay on Angel Island with him.”

Sonic's not really sure if ‘staying with him’ is the right way to word this situation, but he's also not sure what the correct wording is so he decides to settle on a numb nod. He doesn't trust his voice to carry any sort of conversation right now.

Knuckles didn't say anything after that, but he also didn't move from where he was crouched atop the Tornado’s wing. The silence wasn't necessarily awkward, but it kept Sonic on edge.

“I know I'm not the best to talk to about emotions,” The echidna mumbled, running a paw through his quills as he spoke, “but I know what it's like to lose family. If you need help with grieving, you can ask.”

Despite the situation, Sonic managed to smile at the older mobian. He appreciated the offer a lot, and he knew he'd probably take him up on it whether he actually wanted to or not.

“I'll leave you be now.” The guardian said quietly before jumping off of the biplane’s wings. “If you wish to be alone from everyone, you can go into my cave.”

Sending the echidna a thumbs up made Sonic want to die. He was assaulted by the memories of when he and Tails first met the echidna. Back when he was unable to verbally speak, forced to hold conversations through expressions alone.

He wanted to scream, but his throat was throbbing from all the crying. He knows he should at least go see his friends, but he can't bring himself to look at any of them right now.

He decides to leave for Knuckles’ house when he feels his communicator buzz.

He gets to the cave on muscle memory alone, his mind occupied by playing the past four years on a sped up loop.

He felt insane. He would tell someone without a doubt that he's known Tails for forever, but it had only been four years since they met.

It wasn't until he collapsed on Knuckles’ bed that Sonic decided to check the message he received, not surprised to see it from Amy.

He didn't have it in him to fully read through the heartfelt message, but it was easy to understand from just skimming through it.

He figured responding to her message was the least he could do to keep her and the other from worrying about him right now.

He wasn't fine, and everyone knew that, but being around his closest friends and family wouldn't help right now.

The only thing that could help him was his little brother, but that wasn't in the cards for him. Not anymore. It's warm in the small cave, but Sonic still shivers as he curls into a ball.

He doesn't think he'll ever be warm again. Not when he felt his baby brother's body slowly grow cold.

[bohemian-rhapsody-in-blue]

Beboptober 2024 Day 2: Crash

Thanks to @bebopcrew for the prompt list! This one takes place about ten years before the events of the series, and slightly before Spike joined the Syndicate—I used this timeline from The Cowboy Bebop Attic, which places Spike’s Syndicate years at about 2061-62 to 2068. This fic turned out WAY longer than I planned, and I stayed up WAY later to write it than I'd hoped, so apologies if some of it makes no sense at all, but I had fun with it!

Okay, so technically speaking, Spike didn’t have a real spaceship’s license yet. And technically speaking, this wasn’t even his ship. One could even say he’d stolen it. But did it really count when it was from the garage of one of those crazy Martian billionaires who probably had fifty identical, sleek and newly-purchased ships in their garage? They wouldn’t notice this one was missing at all.

Spike had engaged in petty thievery before, sure, but this was different. This was the big leagues. A ship of his very own—now that he’d wiped the tracking and identification as best he could with his shoddy, hodgepodge tech skills—opened up whole new worlds to him, literally. After seventeen years of being stuck on Mars, hopping ineffectually from city to city whenever he could hitch a ride, he’d crossed a Hyperspace Gate for the very first time and, after some annoying waiting, was by a whole new planet in a matter of minutes.

Once he arrived, it was an adventure in itself to try and navigate the overlarge ship past all the debris and space junk that circled Earth, almost like an old video game. And then he could see it, the pockmarked blue marble floating in space. A whole new planet. Although he was alone, he couldn’t help but give a low whistle at the sight. He wasn’t given to poetry, but he had to admit a sight like this would be breathtaking to anyone.

And the flying itself! Okay, so technically he’d never been in a ship’s cockpit before, but it wasn’t too hard to figure out the controls. He’d driven a car, and the mechanics of this weren’t too different. But flying? It was light-years away from driving.

He loved everything about it: the way the stars raced past him in the cockpit window, the whooshing sensation of freefall in his stomach as he dipped and glided and spun just for the hell of it, the way the ship responded beautifully to his every little touch to propel him faster and faster into the darkness as he whooped in delight. The way no one could find him or catch him way out here. It was freedom, so much more than he’d thought he’d had before on the streets, so much more than he’d even thought possible. It awakened dormant parts of him he didn’t even know existed.

It was bliss.

That is, until he pushed too hard and too fast—or maybe the dumb ship’s controls responded too well—and found he’d somehow fucked up. The ship was rapidly losing power and altitude, careening down towards Earth.

Shit, shit, shit! Spike wrenched at the controls and pushed frantically at all the buttons he could reach, pretty much at random, trying desperately to silence the beeping warnings that flashed all around him in the cockpit. And maybe it slowed down his entry speed a little. But it didn’t stop the warning signs from flashing faster and faster and more urgently, and for Earth’s surface to grow larger and larger below him. And eventually all Spike could do was curl up in the cushy pilot’s seat and brace for impact as best he could.

The ship crash-landed at what had to be a horrific angle, leaving a trail of cratered dirt and debris up until its final resting point. Rocks and detritus rained down, marring the ship’s perfect surface and adding another strain to the deafening noise. Airbags deployed all around Spike, burning against his skin. For the first few minutes, Spike wasn’t entirely certain he’d survived.

Figures. My first-ever real taste of freedom, and I almost die not even twenty-four hours in.

Well, if he really was dead, at least they couldn’t catch him for stealing that ship.

~~~~~

Of course, after a while Spike had to realize that he was, in fact, alive, and unfurl himself from the ruined cockpit to clean up his mess.

The trip had been pretty impulsive, and he didn’t know what, exactly, he’d been expecting to find on Earth, but he had expected to return to his home planet eventually. He knew that owning a spaceship of his own could open up a lot more opportunities to get money and power and a bit of food in his stomach. It could even make him look more attractive to some of the bigger crime syndicates on Mars, even if he still had to start out as a grub doing all the grunt work. At least they’d consider him.

But for that, his spaceship had to be working. And as he surveyed the ship, having extricated himself from the wreckage and now looking up at it with arms akimbo, he figured that his hodgepodge tech skills wouldn’t be of much help here at all.

At least it wasn’t on fire. Maybe a better mechanic could somehow revive it, even if they had to replace all its parts one by one, like that old Earth story about the wooden boat. It would be better than no ship at all, especially if it made him harder to catch by the guy he’d stolen the ship from.

He should be as destroyed as the ship, he thought. He really shouldn’t have survived that crash. Maybe he had a lucky star up there, somewhere, watching out for him.

Somehow, he doubted that.

There was only one thing he could do. He hated feeling dependent like this, and if it didn’t work pretty soon, he may as well pack up and set out on his own—find some decent food and shelter, try his luck on Earth, maybe eventually find a way back home, such as that home was. But for now, he let out a defeated sigh, leaned against the ship’s ruins, and held up one thumb.

He saw rockets taking off in the distance; he heard the distant purr of cars’ engines. There had to be someone willing to pick him up eventually and take him to a place where his ship could maybe get fixed. If his lucky star was still watching out for him. If it even existed at all.

~~~~~

“This isn’t getting fixed today, kid.”

“Whaddya mean?” Spike scowled at the mechanic—Doohan, according to his assistant who’d driven Spike here—an old, cantankerous-looking guy with goggles perched on top of his wild gray hair. Every part of his clothing was either singed or actively smoking. He’d thought a guy like this could bring his ship back to life right away, as if by magic.

Doohan was still peering around the ship with an appraising eye, examining the mangled remains of its dashboard, the hunks of metal that used to be its hull. “I can keep it here and modify it. Or, if it turns out to be truly useless, save it for scrap. But if you were planning to be out of here in an hour and race home on this pretty little number, that’s not happening.”

“But—but the person who drove me here, your assistant—Jimmy or something—he said you were the best mechanic this side of the planet. He said you could work miracles.”

The man snorted and turned away. “Flattery like that is exactly why he won’t last around here.”

Even though the news was a disappointment, Spike honestly kind of appreciated that Doohan wasn’t bullshitting him. And obviously, the guy knew ships. As Spike gazed around the hangar, he saw several ships of all sorts—some that must have been historical artifacts from the early days of hyperspace gates, some brand-new ones like the one Spike had just crashed—in varying states of repair. One, a half-finished model with a slender red body and a long nose, particularly caught his attention. Surprisingly, some sort of looked like what he had originally expected: old relics, nursed back to health. He wondered how many of those could actually fly. He wondered what it would feel like. Already, his hands itched for the controls of a spaceship again, any spaceship.

“It’s been through quite a crash,” Doohan said, squinting up at Spike from the other side of the ship. “Where’d you get a ship like this? Only to junk it up right away?”

Spike had long since learned that the best response to questions like this was to stay silent, so that’s what he did.

“Rather not say? Okay. What’d you do to crash it?”

Simple as possible. “I went too fast.”

Doohan grunted. “Seen that before. Teenage boys who think they know everything. They always think they’re invincible.”

Something about that smarted. It hit Spike in the chest, white-hot on his already-frayed nerves.

Doohan turned back to the wreckage. “They always eventually get cut down to size.”

Spike felt his hands involuntarily balling into fists.

“You think I’m some privileged little rich boy?” he said, and it came out as an unexpected growl. “I sure as hell know I’m not invincible. I’m from Mars, I just got here. I’ve got no family. I’ve been cut down to size plenty of times in my life.” His voice was getting louder, more insistent. “I need a ship, any ship. I can work off whatever debt I owe to you. But don’t go thinking I did this just for the hell of it!” His last words were a yell, echoing in the silence.

Doohan just grunted again, not looking up. Silence fell once again for a while as he fiddled with the inside of the ship, tinkering with his tools. Spike’s breaths came out shuddery, but slowing.

“I think something was fucked up with the accelerator,” Spike said, quieter this time. “It was my first time piloting a ship and I went through a Gate no problem, I could do loop-de-loops and shit, and I guess I went a little overboard. But I barely touched that pedal thing and next thing I knew I was crashing here. I think I could do better with another craft.” He looked up at Doohan, choosing his next words with caution. “Or if I could find out how this one worked. How ships work. And how to fly them for real.”

Doohan inspected a panel of metal sheetwork on the side of the ship, his face inscrutable.

“That was you,” he finally said. “Doing the loop-de-loops in the sky. That was you.”

“Uh, yeah.” Damn. Spike hadn’t been as surreptitious with that stolen craft as he thought.

“And you say that was your first time ever piloting a ship?”

“Yeah,” Spike said again.

Doohan made eye contact with Spike for the first time. “How’d you feel when you were up there?”

“Uhhh…good? Happy?” Dammit, Spike wasn’t good with talking about feelings or whatever, and Doohan looked thoroughly unimpressed with his attempts. He didn’t even really know why Doohan was asking about it, but he could tell there had been something different, something distinctive, about that feeling. He racked his brain for the right word to describe how it had felt, soaring through the stars.

“Free,” he finally said. “I felt free.” He cupped his hands as if around the controls in a ship’s cockpit, and he felt his eyes narrowing in determination. “I wanna feel that way again.”

Doohan nodded slowly, then put his hand on what used to be the hull of the ship. “New ships like this, they tend to be trigger-happy. They advertise responsiveness, they say they’re user-friendly, and then they go way too far with it.” Spike nodded. Reminded him of some people he knew back on Mars. “You’ve got some natural talent,” Doohan continued. “But if you want to learn how to fly a ship right, you have to know how it works. You either work for the machine, or it works for you.”

Spike nodded again, at first slowly, but then with more determination. He could do that. In fact, the thought excited him. Something to fill his days that wasn’t petty crime and rooting around for his next meal. Something that actually felt purposeful. Like he was born for it.

Doohan looked over the ships in the hangar, appearing contemplative. “Been working on fixing up that old MONO racer for a while now,” he finally said, gesturing to the red ship that had caught Spike’s attention earlier. “Now, get me a 3/8 gauge from the toolbox in my office.” He turned to the assistant, who’d been leaning against the car he’d driven Spike in and watching the conversation with interest. “Jimmy, you’re fired.”

“Aw, man,” the assistant said, staring down at his sneakers. “Mom’s gonna kill me.”

~~~~~

Spike had worked for Doohan for a few months now, learning the ins and outs of amateur spaceship repair, not to mention how to actually pilot different types of crafts so they wouldn’t crash. Over the course of weeks, they’d watched ships transform from beaten-up hunks of junk, or broken-down relics that belonged to a museum, to actually usable, sometimes even restored to their former glory. It was a hell of a hobby, but no one could say Doohan wasn’t passionate about it. He worked from sunup to long past sundown, through mealtimes and rock showers and explosions that signed off his eyebrows. And, Spike had to admit, it was gratifying seeing their progress every day and week, bit by bit.

Spike had memorized every tool Doohan owned, where to get or borrow the ones he didn’t, and which ones just flat-out didn’t exist. He was used to getting barked at by his boss, sent on so many impossible tasks and wild-goose chases that he could no longer count them, sometimes having sharp implements thrown at him. (He’d learned to only piss Doohan off when he was holding something soft like a newspaper.) But he’d managed to avoid getting unceremoniously fired, like poor Jimmy. Or quitting, like a lot of assistants in Doohan’s past apparently had.

It wasn’t like Spike wasn’t used to rebukes or harshness. In fact, he kind of appreciated that Doohan didn’t baby him. And he thought maybe Doohan respected that he didn’t crumple under the pressure—although that may just have been wishful thinking on his part.

Still, after a few months of practice, even Doohan couldn’t find fault with the way he flew. (Or at least not very much fault.) The controls felt natural in Spike’s hands, like an extension of himself. He could effortlessly swoop and dive through the sky, at least in Earth’s atmosphere, as easily as moving his own body. And no matter how often he set off from the hangar with a whoosh, or how often he practiced all the proper measurements and calculations to land the way Doohan had showed him, it still felt just as freeing as it did the first time. It gave him a strange, bright sense that maybe he could do more when he got back to Mars. Maybe he could have an actual future.

But it still caught him completely off-guard when Doohan took a satisfied look at the newly-refurbished MONO racer—the Swordfish II, he’d called it (Spike decided not to ask what had happened to the Swordfish I)—and declared, “It’s yours now.”

“M-mine?” Spike babbled, like some sort of idiot.

Doohan nodded quite sensibly, as if this were the only logical option and any idiot would understand that. “You’ve done enough work on it to have earned it fair and square. You know it inside and out. And besides, it’s sturdy enough that it should survive a crash or two.” And for the first time, he flashed a smile at Spike, a knowing gleam in his eye.

Spike smiled back. The ship really was beautiful, lithe and maneuverable but still tough. Not some delicate thing that would crash and burn at the slightest provocation. It had been through some shit, just like he had. And it had come out alive. Maybe it was an old model, but it was his.

The words Thank you felt awkward on his tongue, tripping it up. But he hoped his face would show his gratitude.

Doohan patted the ship’s hull in satisfaction. And okay, technically speaking, Spike knew it wasn’t meant for him, not really—but it felt almost like a pat on the back.

“Why don’t you take it for a spin?”

[corvusalbus93]

Unrest

Author's Note: A short, taking place near the end of the Nephilim crusades. It’s basically about how the Horsemen (or two of them anyway) found together, before offering their services to the Council. Here, Death learns Strife no longer supports their campaign of conquests, as the two talk, after the Nephilim take another world. Strife POV.)

+++

It had been some hours since nightfall, yet it was far from dark. Fires still burned all over town, some eating away at the ruins, while around others the celebrating Nephilim had gathered, to drink and feast. Their howls and laughter echoed through the otherwise lifeless streets to be heard far and wide. Strife tried to pay them no mind. Until recently he would have happily participated, but tonight he had snuck away and returned to the ruins.

It had taken him some time to find the house he’d been looking for. He remembered kicking down the door earlier that day, when the Nephilim army had taken the town. He remembered raising his guns only to find himself staring at helpless civilians. Two parents huddling in a corner, their small child between them, shielded by their arms. The look of horror in their eyes.

Strife tensed at that memory.

He’d stood there, fingers on the triggers, and for the first time in his life, been unable to pull them. And so he’d remained frozen in place, until one of his brethren had stormed in, pushed him aside and done what he could not. He had not fired a single shot today.

Now he’d come back, using the curved shard of some pot to dig up the little garden beside the house. Usually, he didn’t like getting his gear dirty, but currently he couldn’t care less that he was kneeling in the dirt. By the time he'd dug out a shallow hole, Strife heard footsteps approaching him. He didn’t turn around, as out of the corner of his eye he could see a figure emerging from the shadows, one of the Firstborn. 

“Is it not a little late for looting?”

Strife’s eyes narrowed and he turned his gaze back to the hole. “Maybe I like the ambiance.”

“Careful. Remember who you are speaking to.” Strife was about to make some snide remark, but for once in his life managed to hold his tongue. That guy wouldn’t get it; after all, what could he expect from one, whose name literally meant ‘Death’. Still, the older Nephilim stepped closer, perhaps only now making sense of the hole’s shape. “A grave? I’m unaware of any losses.”

“It’s not for one of us, okay?”

“A native?”

“...a family.”

There was an uncomfortably long pause, before the Firstborn spoke again, the faintest hint of curiosity lingering in his voice. “Why would you care about them?”

Strife stopped digging. “Why?”

“That’s what I asked.”

“No. Why did we take this realm?” Strife got up to his feet and turned to Death, tossing his improvised shovel aside. “We defeated what few warriors they could muster, when we first arrived, but today was senseless slaughter. So, before I answer you, I want to know why.” This was bold, even for him. However, a growing number of nagging questions were keeping him up each night now. And his last job...no, he didn’t want to think about that right now.

The older Nephilim frowned. “It’s but another world along our path. We take what we need, what we want and move on, as we always have.”

“But what’s the fucking point?!” Strife snapped. “World after world put to the torch and for what?!”

He had seen them, realms and civilizations before the invasion, when he went on jobs between conquests. He’d seen thriving cultures, walked across the lush fields, been on words teeming with life. Until the Nephilim came to burn it all down and replace it with nothing. Nothing but ash and rubble.

It had taken him way too long to start asking why, and it troubled him that he had found no good answer.

“Are we just gonna keep doing this until there is nothing left?! Until all of creation is destroyed?!” It was the first time he uttered such questions out loud, and briefly he wondered, if shouting them into a Firstborn’s face was going to be his last mistake. It didn’t matter. Strife gestured to the house behind him. “These were civilians, parents, children...we had no reason to slaughter them!”

Death, if anything, seemed unimpressed. “You never cared before. And now you are trying to do right by them, pay your last respect to this family?” He sighed. “That won’t change a thing.”

“It’s something.”

“It’s meaningless,” the older Nephilim insisted. “Their souls are in the Kingdom of the Dead and won’t know about this. You did this to ease your own mind.”

“So it’s selfish. Is that what you are saying? That is still something.” Strife clenched his fists. “Now what? I’m gonna get punished?”

For a moment it seemed as if Death was sizing him up. “Tell me; what if there was an alternative to our crusades, another path our people could take?”

“I think it depends on what that entails. Are there new plans?”

“Considerations. What do you know of the Balance?”

Strife shrugged. “Not much. Know about the war between Heaven and Hell, laying waste to realms before some council stepped in.”

“Yes; before they could destroy all of creation.”

“Yeah, something like that." He put on a bitter smile. "Why? Are they pissed we’re now doing such a great job at continuing that legacy?”

The Firstborn folded his arms. “We’ve fought forces of both Heaven and Hell before. It’s only a matter of time before we demand their full attention. And that of the Charred Council.”

"That can’t end well for us. So what? We’re gonna make peace, settle down?” He had trouble picturing Death using his scythe on crops rather than people. He had trouble picturing what he himself would do. Strife was a killer, through and through. While his views on their crusades had changed, the urge to fight and kill was still there, probably always would be. Death seemed to think much the same.

“I doubt peace would agree with us. But you are right in one respect; as it is now, we’re just blindly destroying everything in our path. That needs to change.”

Strife recalled hearing him argue with others of the Firstborn weeks ago, though hadn’t caught enough to know about what. Was Death of all people, honestly sharing his doubts? And agreeing with him? It was nice and all, but it wouldn’t matter much, unless...

“Does Absalom see it the same way?”

Death’s eyes twitched ever so slightly, but the younger Nephilim caught it, nonetheless. “Not yet. He’s as stubborn as the rest of us. At least you and I aren’t the only ones, who are...dissatisfied.”

There were others? Somehow this revelation made Strife feel a little lighter. It wasn’t just him going crazy, or maybe there were others just as crazy as him. He was happy with either. “So, what now?”

“I’m looking into a few options. Ways we might end this.” Death looked over his shoulders to the fires, around which their brethren were still feasting, before he gave Strife a nod. “I’ll be in touch.”

With that he departed, disappearing back into the shadows. For a while Strife looked after him, listening, until he could no longer hear any footsteps. What options was he talking about? Strife somehow doubted Absalom would want to end their crusades any time soon, no matter what arguments the Firstborn had. The original Nephilim feared neither Heaven nor Hell, and probably not some council, no matter their authority.

In that case, how far would Death go? A coup? If he found enough supporters, it was certainly an option, though it would mean Nephilim fighting Nephilim.

Strife walked into the house. The bodies were still how he’d left them, huddled together in the corner, though the blood had long dried. He began to untangle them, carefully so, as if trying not to cause further harm.

How far was he himself willing to go?

Frankly, he wasn’t sure, but their campaign of conquest had to end, or countless more worlds would burn like this one. Or the Nephilim would eventually meet their match. Heaven, Hell, Makers; if they could make treaties, how long until they decided to put their differences aside just long enough to deal with them? Even if they didn’t, Absalom would eventually try to conquer the two kingdoms, of that he had no doubt. And that was a fight Strife was not sure they could win.

Whatever Death was planning, perhaps it was the better alternative. The smaller evil in the long run.

Finally, he’d untangled the bodies from one another, and one by one he carried them to the shallow grave. The parents were first, placed so they would be facing each other. The child was last. As he walked outside, Strife looked at the small bundle in his arms.

He had no trouble fighting and killing demons, angels, beasts, creatures of the void or any other warrior standing in his way; he enjoyed it, the bloodshed, the thrill. But not this. He’d found his line. Or maybe he had just finally realized that there had to be a line. It made him sick to his stomach to think how often he’d already crossed it, and before he knew it, he was cradling the bundle, as he stepped into the garden.

Gently, as if afraid to hurt it, he placed the child in between the other two bodies, before putting one arm of each parent around it, mimicking their final embrace as best he could. Nephilim didn’t really have funeral rites, not beyond just burning the bodies, which was the most common practice, since everything tended to be already on fire when they were done. But something about burying them this way felt right. The first thing to feel right in some time.

+++

This had been meant to serve as a flashback in my discontinued Darksiders Pariahs-story, but I thought it works as a standalone too. Hope you enjoyed.

[gingerwerk]

happy thursday/friday. heres (perhaps? the first bit i've ever posted on here?) an excerpt from my upcoming hbo war vietnam era/post vietnam au series

i literally laid down on my bed and whipped this up in less than an hour and i fuck with it and im in a giving mood so please enjoy :)

_-_-_-_-_-_

Cradling the cool, hard plastic of the payphone in between his cheek and his shoulder, Eugene pulled a few loose coins from his pants pocket and slipped them into the lot on the machine. It was getting late here but over on the West coast it was just around dinner time and hopefully he could catch him at home. He easily recalled the number and after only two rings, the line clicked.

“Hello?” the familiar, soft voice came through the phone line. 

“Jay, it’s Eugene,” he said, as a faint smile naturally appeared on his face.

“Gene, hey!” Jay responded, voice sounding more excited now that he knew it wasn’t some prank call or a wrong number. “What’s going on?”

What was going on? Eugene couldn’t help but wonder as he glanced around at the brightly lit up truck stop, everything slightly out of focus due to the combination of wear and dirt on the phone booth glass. 

He glanced at the gas station parking lot and still saw Snafu’s rusting blue pickup with the giant chrome Airstream attached. He didn’t seriously think Snafu would leave him in the middle of nowhere but Eugene couldn’t help the small bout of anxiety he got when he went too long without seeing Snafu or his- their -temporary home. All of a sudden he felt like he might as well have been five instead of twenty-five and he just lost sight of his mother at the market in town.  

“So, funny story…” Eugene started slowly, still processing how he would explain the situation he had willingly walked himself into.

“An actually funny story or funny like you need bail money- I assume not for you though, because this call isn’t coming from a police station,” Jay asked easily, tone even like he really wouldn’t have minded either scenario.

“Funny like Snafu showed up at my door Wednesday night,” Eugene stated, deciding to simply bite the bullet. “And I am calling you from a payphone outside Dayton, Ohio because he asked me to go on a road trip to the Grand Canyon and for some crazy reason I said yes. And I figured someone besides Bill and Faye should know so, yeah. That’s what’s going on with me right now.” 

For a long moment all Eugene could hear was the slight crackle of Jay’s breath as he slowly processed the news. While he waited, Eugene glanced over his shoulder again; still no sign of Snafu but the truck was still there. 

“That is a pretty funny situation you’ve got yourself in,” Jay decided after a long moment. “Now, I know you said you agreed to go with him but did you? Is this a willing trip or are you actually kidnapped and you’re calling for help. Cough twice if you’re in danger.”

“Jay,” Eugene sighed exasperatedly. “I’m really okay. I promise.”

“You sure?” his friend asked, the dry, sarcastic tone from before gone now and in its place was something more genuine, more concerned. 

Eugene frowned as he fidgeted with the phone cord for a moment. He had wanted to call Jay for several reasons. Firstly, he and Jay regularly communicated, via letters and occasional phone calls, if they wanted to swing the long-distance fee for something that couldn’t be held up by the U.S. postal service, and Eugene didn’t want to be thought of as rude if a letter went unanswered for longer than usual. He also wanted to let Jay know that Snafu was not only alive but seemingly okay, as he was one of approximately four people who would like to know that information. Lastly, however, Eugene wanted to call Jay because he was the only person alive who knew what the fuck had actually gone on between the two of them while in Vietnam. Perhaps Eugene should have called him back when he was weighing the pros and cons of traveling across the country with the man and none of his friends seemed to understand why he was so hesitant to go along with the man who, to the rest of the world, was just one of his closest war buddies, but that ship had long since sailed. At the very least he could let someone know his situation in case things blew up later and he needed an ally to help pick up his pieces. 

“I’m sure,” Eugene said definitively. “I promise.”

As Eugene picked his head up, he watched as Snafu exited the gas station with a mildly irritated expression on his face and a paper bag in hand. He watched for a long moment as Snafu’s eyes scanned the parking lot before they finally landed on him in the booth. Ignoring how his stomach lurched in a not-totally-uncomfortable way as Snafu put him in his sights, Eugene simply raised his hand to let the man know he saw him before Eugene turned his back to him so he could finish his phone call.

“If you’re sure, Eugene,” Jay decided quietly. “You say you’re gonna see the Canyon?”

“Yeah, finally,” Eugene huffed with a small, sad smile.

“Well, make sure you take some good pictures to send to me,” Jay responded, the slightly stilted tone in his voice let Eugene know Jay remembered what the Grand Canyon really meant to him.

“I will. Faye let me borrow her camera.” 

Faye’s beloved Kodak was currently nestled away in a storage compartment in Snafu’s Airstream. Eugene didn’t want to risk damaging or even losing such a beloved possession on the trip but Faye would not hear of it. She not only wanted pictures of the Grand Canyon but also told Eugene to take as many pictures as he could to remember the trip. 

“Hey, so, I gotta run, Snafu’s looking at me all pissed from across the parking lot and I think he’s beginning to scare off the patrons of the gas station,” Eugene said as he looked over his shoulder and watched for a moment as Snafu lit himself a new cigarette before he began to shuffle back to his truck. 

“Thanks for calling and letting me know,” Jay said. “Feel free to call again when you can or if Snafu wants, you can give him my information. It’d be nice to hear from him.”

“Be careful, he might show up at your door next and ask to go on a trip to Canada.”

“Can’t say I’ve been up north before so I might go if he asked,” Jay said easily. “But I’ll let you go.”

“Bye, Jay.”

“Bye, Gene.”

Hanging the phone back on its cradle, Eugene pushed out of the slightly claustrophobic booth and quickly crossed the parking lot until he reached where Snafu was casually leaning against the side of his truck, his cigarette half smoked as it hung out of the corner of his mouth. Once Snafu’s pale eyes landed on him, he pushed off the side of the truck and climbed back into the cab of his truck.

“Who’d you call?” he grunted as Eugene climbed into the passengers side of the cab.

“Jay,” Eugene answered, deciding to go for the truth.

“De L’Eau?” Snafu asked, a hint of surprise in his voice as he started up the truck and slowly pulled out of the parking lot, the large airstream towed behind them making it a bigger production than usual..

“You know any other Jays?”

“Damn, there anybody from over there who you haven’t kept in touch with?” 

“Yeah, you,” Eugene responded shortly as he continued to stare straight ahead through the windshield. 

Instead responding, Snafu simply flipped on the car radio and let the twangy tones of Creedence Clearwater Revival fill up the space of the cab as they drove down the dark, semi-deserted road in search of somewhere out of the way to park the Airstream for the night.

[timelostobserver]

The Reapers' Fall

[ A drabble containing the events of Azrael/Hades' Fall. Something I've wanted to write for a while now~ ]

Glimmering, golden blood was splattered upon the pristine white marble ground. A struggle had taken place here.

The normally quiet 'Halls of Mourning' where the dead were brought before the Angel of Death was now filled with terrifying tension. Four blackened, raven like wings, cast aside upon the ground, blood oozing from their base while their owner was held above the ground, blood dripping from their back and their remaining two wings.

Azrael, the archangel who presided over the dead was a mess. His robes stained in golden blood, the corners of his mouth leaking the self-same fluid, though that was not his own. And a clenched, tightened hand firmly holding his scarf and him aloft.

Rage boiled in the archangels eyes, what had been simmering below the surface for so long had finally broken free. What had started as an overstepping of the Seraphim, had led into the constant overruling of the Judge's jurisdiction.

All until he finally only saw red, and snapped.

Sera stood near by, nursing a terrifying gash in her hand, Adam standing to the side after having watched the entire fiasco throw down.. While Azrael was being held aloft by the one who he held far too much ire for.

Lute.

She was smiling.

All the while, he held his beloved grimoire and scales in his arms. A literal death grip upon the two treasures he'd been created alongside of. They were his, he refused to hand them over.

How had it all come to this? For the youngest of the Archangels to erupt into a fit of Wrath at not just the Seraphim, but the First Man and the angel closest to him. It was a long brewing tension, one wrought of lost purpose, bullying, and neglect.

'Anything left to say?' Lute was enjoying this all too well. Sera refused to even look at Azrael as tears continued to drip from the corners of his eyes. His glasses broken, scattered across the ground. Shards lost among the neigh scattered carpet of black raven feathers.

The office itself was in complete shambles. The desk overturned, bookshelves knocked over...

And Sera just looked on, in disappointment.

"Lucifer was right, he was right to turn Heaven upside down that day!" Azrael barely managed to choke out.

"You're nothing but liars, power-hungry liars who don't give a shit about humanity! You only want what's best for yourselves, not creation itself!" He grimaced as the grip on his scarf was tightened.

'A little late to be so defiant. Want me to rip out the last set of wings?' Lute looked smug, she was enjoying seeing the archangel squirm. But his only response to her-

"Fuck you." A spit to her face, spitting out the blood in his mouth. Blood that came from Sera's open gash. That, certainly got her angry...

A crash as a window was shattered, Azrael's torn body was thrown out the stained glass window that filtered in Heaven's light to his office. But the light that followed him was not of gentle sunlight, but of flames as the archangels body erupted at the call of the Seraphim. Flames that would burn away the feathers that remained, that would char his skin and hair as he plummeted through the clouds and into the wastes below.

Even as he burned, not once did Azrael's grip relinquish from his precious treasures. And his only cry was one in apology to his eldest brother. To Michael, that he couldn't keep his promise of waiting for him to come home.

A quiet cry of forgiveness as Heaven soon fell out of sight, and Azrael collided with the unforgiving, hard ground of Hell.

. . . . . . .

The site of the crash was terrifying. The force of the impact uprooting the stone, dirt and ice that coated the outer edge of the Pride Ring of Hell. Flames produced from the impact crackled as the dust itself settled around the small, broken figure at the center of it all.

Azrael felt nothing but searing pain, both all over his body and in his heart. He refused to be pushed around by Sera any longer, refused to alow her to constantly dictate how the process of judgment was to be done for each human soul.

Refused to be a puppet...

As he lay there, he thought of that moment where he began to truly question the Seraphim and the Council themselves. To question his purpose.. Poor Abel. The poor boy murdered at the hands of his own brother. To bear the blunt of the first murder, to witness and take on the fear of that young man as he asked so many questions...

To see how the council handled his decision. The scales had weighed him in favor of Heaven, he was an innocent human. But they didn't think so. They tried to rule that certainly he must have done SOMETHING to cause Cain to act in such a way.

Azrael fought tooth and nail to ensure he could reside in Heaven. And when the time had come for Cain's judgement? Azrael had ruled his judgement to be Hell, and once more they tried to overrule his judgement. The same.. damn.. excuse.

As he lay upon the cold ground, tears dripping from his face to the ground as his gold blood stained the stones of Hell. The first time he'd ever raised his voice at the Council...

How taken aback they had all been.

That had been the beginning of the end. Each time he pushed back, Sera grew more cross with him. Lute grew more aggressive. Their efforts to bully him into a corner, into a puppet they could control failed to bear fruit. Until he finally just... Snapped.

He'd lunged at Sera as she tried to touch his beloved scales. He tore into her hand like a feral animal trying to protect what it saw as precious. And it all spiraled from there...

As he lamented on what happened, he could not hear the quiet footsteps that would soon approach him. A tall, avian creature in regal robes. Red eyes looking down to the now fallen Archangel.

Paimon moved forward, and carefully took the broken angel into his arms.

'How far Heaven has truly fallen, if Death itself has now joined our ranks.'

[mouthsfullofsharpteeth]

alex and tim hatefuck a lot but during one of the times they are getting rough with each other one of them actually gets hurt.

ohhhh my gosh. its late season three, tim is sooo exhausted. constantly having to join jay on all these stupid outings into the woods because hes worried jay will just die if tim doesnt go, meanwhile he knows alex has killed people, has done horrible horrible things. but.

(read more bc it got very long)

but.

they have kinda been having sex for a little while...

tim is pretty sure its an unspoken agreement too. no cameras. no tapes. no telling anyone. and they can be as rough as they want, because who even fucking cares anymore? the first time was in the woods, on the leaves and dirt in the middle of the night. then alex figured out which hotel tim was at, and they did it there. third time, alexs car. and then this time was back to basics, just tim roughing alex up at the doorway of his hotel room, making Sure that the camera was shut off and in the closet, joining tim's. they both bring the cameras every time. probably just habit to carry it around. and at first, they start right up against the door.... then the floor... then the bed and then back to the floor. theres a lot happening. but this is normal for them. its scratching and biting and hissing curses in between messy kisses. and it seems literally like any other time theyve done their little routine, up until the end.

tim is starting to get his shower ready while alex puts his clothes back on and promptly fucks off like usual, except this time he doesnt fuck off, hes kinda just sitting at the little desk in his underwear, squinting down at the shirt he shown up in. tim gives him a very unsubtle side eye. he doesnt want this prick here any longer than necessary. so he snaps something like, what is it. whats taking so long. and alex looks up at him, chest littered in bites bruises, and he mutters that its nothing, but its clearly not nothing, so tim has to sigh and walk over and see what his problem is. and when he gets closer, he notices that alex is looking kinda pale. the bruises showing up more starkly reddish purple against sort of greened, sickly skin. whats with you, he asks again. alex doesnt answer, until tim lightly swats the side of his head and asks again. alex grumbles that he just feels a little....dizzy. at first time is like, oh wow i fucked you so good that youre straight up like sick now? is that it? and alex is all NO >:-( but then it starts becoming clear he really does not feel well, and tim is kind of frustrated because he does still want to shower, and jay is probably going to want to go out looking around the hospital again tomorrow, but tim is a nice guy. he prides himself on still being kind despite the situation hes in. and he does have a little experience with sickly guys who feel like crap and dont know why, so he runs down the usual questions that he asks jay. when did you last sleep? i dont know, yesterday or the day before. have you eaten today? no- wait yes. well what was it? like a protein bar or something i dont know why does it matter??? then, does anything hurt? i dont know, my head i guess. mainly the back of it. and tim thinks back to earlier, and how he had, albeit a bit forcefully, slammed alex into the wall in order to bite the shit out of his neck. and he wonders... hm. could alex...... have hit his head? well, its likely.

so begrudgingly, tim drags alex to the shitty hotel bed, makes him drink a room temperature bottled water, and after wards alex has his head to his knees, empty stomach and pounding head not agreeing with all the water he'd just downed. and as tim rifles through the food he has on him, he wonders, not really for the first time, why they only have ever met at the places tim's staying before. of course, there was alex's car, but that's not really a place to STAY. he tosses some snack stuff to alex, sits on the bed, and asks him, hey, where are you staying these days anyway? alex snatches the food, tearing open one of the packages, and scowls at him. why do you care???? he looks starving. tim gets a scowl on his face too. well, doesnt It fucking like you or whatever? you seem to be its favorite after all, so i dont think it would really let you just sleep on the side of the road. alex sneers, clearly unamused, and keeps eating through a bag of pretzels. of course i have a place to stay, he snaps, and then doesnt elaborate. they sit in silence with that for a little while, tim more uncomfortably than alex. then he stands up and looks for his clothes and says hes gonna go to the ice machine. when he comes back, maybe he had also bought a few more snacks from the vending machine in the lobby. and maybe its a little gentle when he situates a makeshift icepack under alex's head. they dont do any of this after care shit usually, but tim wonders if maybe. well. maybe if theyre gonna keep doing this, then perhaps they should.

[themculibrary]

Ghosts Masterlist 3

Links Last Checked: May 13th, 2024

part one, part two

ain't afraid of no ghost! (ao3) - deniigiq N/R, 6k

Summary: Peter thought about Mr. Stark telling him to be responsible with his powers. Then he thought about Wade recruiting Double D to time how long it took his hand to heal after he stabbed it with a knife. And then he remembered Double D agreeing to it even though he couldn’t read the stopwatch.

Stupider things had been done, he decided, and it’s not like a little ghost hunting was going to hurt anyone.

“Sure,” he told Ned with a grin, “Let’s go catch a ghost.”

(The Spiderman trio and the Daredevil trio meet up to go ghost-hunting, it goes about as well as you'd expect.)

All-American Afterlife (ao3) - Zekkass G, 4k

Summary: Bucky's been haunting Steve since he fell off the train.

All Hallows' Eve (ao3) - The_Winter_Writer bucky/steve/tony N/R, 3k

Summary: Tony hated haunted houses. When he escaped this nightmare he was going to kill Natasha.

Beyond The Wooden Fence (ao3) - Ashleyparker2815 N/R, 33k

Summary: In the house next door to Peter’s and Tony’s new house, there is a mom and dad who lost their eleven year old son.

Now, those parents find out Peter moved in next door and they try to get their ghost son to kill Peter so the spirit of the little boy can take his body.

Will Tony be able to save his kid?

Dancing in the Dark (ao3) - Neotorious steve/bucky G, 5k

Summary: Most things happen in the dark, and from the things that you could see to the people that you could meet in the dead of night something just might surprise you. And maybe, just maybe, they could even change your world. For better or worse? Well.. Who's to really say?

Sometimes it all starts with meeting a stranger during the witching hour. The night doesn't always have malice.

Darker Than Black (ao3) - trucizna steve/bucky T, 3k

Summary: Bucky has a monster living under his bed. Now he also has a friend.

Haunted Vacation (ao3) - pinkhairnoshoes steve/tony, ben/may T, 31k

Summary: Tony and Steve invite Ben and May on a vacation to a cottage upstate. It's a good chance to disconnect from technology and enjoy the summer out in the country. The house seems normal enough until Peter starts having nightmares and seeing ghosts. Unexplained things are starting to happen. Steve and Tony are getting increasingly frustrated waking up to things being out of place or damaged. Peter is getting increasingly worried when he wakes up with dirt and grass on his feet but no memory of leaving his bed. The adults assume Peter is acting out for attention. They don't see the ghosts or notice that the house is having an effect on them too.

Hopeless Wanderer (ao3) - Eternal_Peace_is_Overrated bucky/tony N/R, 6k

Summary: James Buchanan Barnes died when he fell from that train in the mountains; not in the literal sense, but very much in the figurative. He’d been molded into the Winter Soldier, the perfect assassin, by Hydra. But Bucky? He was still very much alive, trapped in his new Winter Soldier body, watching as this new him kills and hurts and demolishes. He doesn’t know what he would call himself- a ghost, maybe, a spirit. A soul? This goes on for seventy years, until one Tony Stark comes along and completely fucks up the life he’s trapped in. He watched the man struggle and hurt, seen him at his best and at his worst and somewhere along the way, Bucky fell in love with the self-made genius. And then. Then Tony almost dies, and suddenly, he can see Bucky- the ghost Bucky, who has been tied to him since he met him years ago, no longer stuck to the Winter Soldier. Its been one helluva ride, and Bucky’s new goal? Get his body back so he can kiss Tony senseless. Easy, right?

it slips between my fingers now (ao3) - Lise T, 3k

Summary: After Thanos is defeated, Thor goes (flees) into space with the Guardians of the Galaxy. It's going...fine.

Until he starts seeing his brother's ghost.

Possibly, Maybe (ao3) - castiowl steve/bucky T, 5k

Summary: Bucky is apartment-sitting for Natasha when he meets Steve. They spend the next four weeks embarrassing themselves.

Take Flight (ao3) - blackchaps clint/phil E, 50k

Summary: Werewolves kill Barney, sending Clint's life spiraling downwards. Clint avenges his brother, setting off a sequence of events that ends up with Clint losing his job at the circus and on the run from what feels like every werewolf in the United States. They want him dead. Good luck with that, furballs.

The Afterlife of The Party (ao3) - neversaydie steve/bucky, natasha/sam M, 8k

Summary" [in which Dead Dorks in Love, awkward ghost sex, and a whole lot of accidental feelings happen]

the dangers in the anger (and the hanging onto it) (ao3) - Katbelle T, 19k

Summary: There is a ghost haunting Matt Murdock's apartment. It's not the ghost you think of.

They that Fade and Stay (ao3) - 27dragons bucky/tony T, 3k

Summary: Bucky could only stare for a moment, and then he called, “Steve! I think we’ve got a ghost!”

“Wait, you can see me like this?” the ghost said, suddenly looking out of the TV at Bucky.

“God damn it,” Steve growled from his bedroom, where he had insisted on trying to put his bed together immediately instead of putting it off for a day or three like a normal person. As if either of them had seen any action recently enough to need a bed. “The bastard had better be friendly; we can’t afford to bring the ghostbusters in.”

Whatever here that's left of me is yours (ao3) - rainbow_nerds steve/bucky M, 41k

Summary: Steve thought he had finally found the perfect place to live. It was bright, airy, and miraculously free from mold and other unwelcome infestations.

Well, for the most part.

He hadn't signed on for a roommate, especially not one who'd been dead for eighty-odd years.

[tinyowlthoughts]

"Sup, G?"

The Grim Reaper grips his scythe ever-so-slightly tighter, but after a few millennia of bumping into each other like this, you've picked up on his little tells.

"I have told you before, that is not my name."

"I can go back to calling you Grimey."

The sound of his teeth grinding together is music to your ears.

Finally, after a moment of grip-tightening and dental damage, he heaves a great sigh (impressive, for a literal skeleton who lacks both lungs and a nose to blow it out of) and shifts his stance, rolling his weight back to the center so he is appears proper and in control.

(It's adorable, that he thinks he has any control over you.)

"I have come to offer you a deal," he intones in a deep, gravely voice that makes you think of tolling church bells and shovels sliding through dirt and worms overturning desecrated soil. In the beginning it had set your nerves alight, had triggered your fight-or-flight and led you to fawn, had left you with a hollow pit as you refused to eat for days (because being immortal didn't mean your body stopped running - it just made it run for longer, for eternity). Now, it was a comforting scrape against your mind - a reassurance that despite humanity changing, shifting from the pastoral, king-ruled fields of London to the bustling streets of Chicago, some things never changed.

"Is your name Jake?"

"It is - what?"

"Jake? Like, from State Farm. You said you want to offer me a deal - are you secretly Jake from State Farm?"

"I - who? What is a state farm?"

"That would make sense, you're name starts with a J, not a G. No wonder you were annoyed."

You can pinpoint the second he realizes you're fucking with him, and the bony fingers tighten hard enough around the staff of his reaping weapon that the wood splinters.

Wisely, he decides to ignore your witty banter and forge ahead. It only took him five-odd centuries to figure that trick out.

"I have come to offer you a chance to regain your mortality." His voice is less church-bells and more annoyed-Walmart-manager-on-Black-Friday now. "You have long walked this world, and the time has come to move on."

You frown, shifting a bit on the bed. "Wait, what? You said if I too the deal I'd never die-"

"Yes. Yes I did say that. But it has been a millennia, and surely you have seen everything there is to see? Your family is waiting for you on the other side-"

"Which one?"

"What?"

"Which family? I've been married seven times - who's waiting for me?"

The Grim Reaper fumbles for a moment, his jaw clacking as he opens and closes his mouth (a poor substitute for flapping lips, but you give him credit for trying). "All of them." He finally decides.

"Wow. Even my bitch ex? The one who kicked our dog?"

"Er..."

"I thought Heaven was supposed to be nice."

The reaper pinches his zygomatic arch (which you'd learned in a failed attempt to get a doctorate and practice medicine) and sighs again. You swear he mutters something along the lines of 'who said you're going to heaven?' but don't get a chance to call him out on it.

"Do you want to move on or not?" He snaps, all spooky, other-worldly pretense dropped.

"Nah, I'm good, J." You relax back into your chair, resting one hand behind your head, the other being occupied.

"This is a one-time offer, human. If you refuse you will never get another opportunity to recant and move on."

"Eh, I figure the heat-death of the universe will sort me out in the end. Can't exist if there's no atoms, right?"

"Look, you should really consider this - how much more can humanity do that you haven't seen?"

"We're getting closer to Mars every day - oh shit, there's an idea! I should be an astronaut! The whole immortality thing would be perfect for long space missions."

"You aren't listening-"

"Dude I gotta call NASA, they're gonna flip-"

"HUMAN!"

The shout is like shattered stained glass, a tree struck by lightning and falling, the keening last cry of a bird as it falls from the sky. You freeze, a little, tiny, itty-bitty bit of that ancient 'fight or flight' coming back to kick your unused self-preservation into gear. You stare at the skeleton.

"You cannot continue to live." He declares, voice back to its theatric deep timbre.

"Yes I can."

"No, you can't."

"Why not?"

The Reaper lets out an exasperated huff and motions to the needle in your arm. "You are sharing your immortality with the world!" He huffs, watching as the blood bag connected to the needle continues to slowly fill with your strange, silver-gold blood. "That was not the intent-"

"It wasn't forbidden in the contract." You have to wiggle, lifting your butt of the seat to grab your wallet, but after a moment you have it and are pulling out the wallet-sized laminated copy of the contract you had signed a thousand years ago. "There is nothing in here about not sharing my blood, or forbidding blood transfusions."

"That is because they did not exist-"

"There's also nothing about updating the contract." You had flunked out of medical school, but law school had been your jam. You'd been a damn good lawyer for a while too, until DC started giving you the ick and you retired. "This contract stands - you cannot amend it, not without the consent of both parties. And I don't consent." You shove your wallet into your front pocket with a shrug. "I don't make the rules."

The reaper hisses through his teeth, a sound like a sad black balloon at a 50th birthday party slowly giving a death cry. "You are upsetting the balance of the cosmos-"

"Not my problem."

"-and the scales of eternity-"

"Still not my problem."

"-and Anubis is on my ass about fixing it! So please, please, either allow yourself to pass on, or stop donating blood!"

You grin - it's all teeth, more than the Reaper himself usually shows, and squeeze the heart-shaped stress ball in your hand. More of your blood - silvery-gold, carrying the cursed gift given to you so long ago - slips down the line and into the bag, which is almost full. As soon as its gone, your body replaces it - a perk of the curse, the blessing, the whatever-it-is. You can stay hooked up all day and never run dry.

The infusions and transfusions don't make anybody truly immortal like yourself, but it's done wonders for cancer treatment and longevity. The work scientist have done in the past few decades, since you outed yourself to the government, has been incredible. People are living far past their predicted time, and the average life span is ticking upwards every year.

"I'm gonna have to go with no." You shrug, and the machine weighing the blood-bag beeps. The Reaper groans, running a hand down his skull. "Hey, you remember what you said when we struck this deal?"

"What?" He snaps, prickly as a hedgehog in a porcupine convention.

You grin. "You told me it would be waste to make me live forever - what could a road bandit with blood on their hands do to help humanity?" You shrug again. "It took me a while, but I figured it out." There are footsteps outside the room, and your smile widens. "Uh-oh, J. Better skedaddle if you don't want to be seen. I know how shy you are." A quick wink in his direction and the scythe haft shatters, sprinkling the room with splinters of bone. With a snarl and a dramatic swirl of black robes, the Grim Reaper vanishes, leaving you to your blood draw in peace.

Cackling, you lean back, hand back behind your head, refocusing on the news playing on the TV above. A story is running - the new average human lifespan is 350 and steadily climbing, and deaths from diseases are at an all time low. With a lowered birth rate, humanity has never had such low death rates, across the world as a whole.

Sure, maybe they're not living forever like you, but being a living blood bag for a few days every week is worth it, just for the stress and havoc it's causing J.

You were given immortality to atone for your horrific crimes against humanity. You wander the earth for millennium. Finally, you are given the option to revoke your immortality and end your suffering. You deny it.

[ebodebo]

Be Quiet and Drive (Far Away)

—thinking about meeting the big bad arkham knight for the first time…consume at your own discretion.

current warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI, dark themes, fem!reader, dubcon, p in v, angst, some biting (literally just one lol), jason being a little meanie, ooc bc it's hard for me to write him being overly mean, no aftercare, blindfolding, depictions of violence, orgasm delay & denial.

please heed the warnings before reading!

When the Dark Knight himself called on your help, you never imagined it would involve sitting on the edge of an abandoned shopping mall on Founder's Island, of all places, to keep an eye on a new vigilante whose name you didn't even know.

You had been sitting quietly on your perch for what felt like an eternity, your muscles ached slightly from remaining so still, but you knew that patience was key.

You glanced down at your watch waiting for the slightest signal from Babs—heart racing with anticipation, hoping for the moment she would finally give you the signal to proceed.

"You find out anything else about him, Babs? You speak through the intercom in your mask to Barbara, unable to deal with the dead silence any longer.

"Negative," she mechanically says.

"Does anyone know anything about this guy?" You question, eyes glazing over some military militia fililing in and out of the mall.

"His background is fairly limited, which is why you're there—to gather more intel," she says, tapping away at her computer. "Sources can't seem to agree on much more than his name," she briefly pauses, "The Arkham Knight."

"The Arkham Knight? Who calls themselves that? Must be a fuckin' lunatic," you remark, narrowing your eyes to get a better look at the figures.

"If only that were the case," Babs sighs. "He's shrewd and sharp. More importantly, he appears to have a vendetta, which makes him particularly dangerous. He seems to understand Bruce thoroughly—he's done his homework."

"Could it be an well-adversed escapee who made it into the city? Maybe Bruce left a bad taste in his mouth after being thrown in the asylum, so now he holds a grudge against him?" You prob, the uncertainty hanging in the air.

"Highly unlikely. No one within the asylum would have the capability to organize, let alone lead, such a massive assault," Babs states firmly, her conviction unwavering.

"Well, one things for sure, this 'Arkham Knight' may think he knows the ole' bat, but nobody really knows him," you say, making a conscious effort to ease some tension.

"His militia is heading to the north side," Babs states decisively. "Approach from the south side to avoid detection."

"Gotcha," you aver, using a grappel gun to maneuver yourself off the side of the building, and into the gritty dirt beneath you.

"Be careful. He's—he's dangerous. Stay alert," Babs warns, her voice wobbiling ever so slightly.

"I will. Over and out," you affirm, with a nod.

You make your way to the south side entrance, staying low and quiet to avoid the militia thugs patrolling the area.

As you approach the stairs leading to the generator that Babs disabled earlier, you climb up and squeeze into the vent, positioning yourself just under the entrance of the department store.

Peering through the grates, you spot several armed thugs escorting someone into the building.

Gripping the voice synthesizer strapped to your thigh, you bring it to your mouth and quietly issue a command.

"Got another three out by the front gate. Three more by the other. Need backup out here," you say, your voice altered to sound like a guard's.

"Affirmative," one of the men responds, signaling to his comrades where they need to go.

They acknowledge him and shuffle out.

"It's almost too easy," you think to yourself before dropping through the grates and sneaking down the maintenance corridor leading to the upper floors.

Bruce had already done the bulk of fixing the broken elevator.

All you need to do is press the panel behind the elevator door to reveal the large shaft below, where the fans, thanks to Bruce, are now stationary.

You ease your way down the elevator shaft silently with your grapple gun. You find your way down with ease, feeling a little overly cocky.

Turning to your side, you see two thugs that are sprinting over to you, weapons in hand.

"Shit," you curse, propelling yourself up to kick one of their weapons out of their hands, before swinging your foot across his face with much force, sending him to the ground.

The other is more stubborn.

He shoots at you, but he misses.

You kick the weapon from his hand, but he swings at your face, sending you back before he slams your body into the ground.

You use what strength you have to rock yourself up, slamming your head against his, catching him off guard, and sending him back off of you.

You haphazardly stand as he sprints back towards you. You swipe your leg across, tripping him and making him fall to the ground.

You hit him in the head with your grapple gun, so he'll pass out. You exhale deeply, catching your breath, eyes catching sight of a hazy figure to your side.

"Ah. Look what we have here. A stray bat," a modulated voice spoke.

You turn to face the person wearing a militaristic version of a bat suit. "Who the hell are you?" You gruff, spitting some blood out.

"Who the hell am I?" He retorts, sounding amused, before his voice turns cold and distorted. "No. Who the hell are you?"

"A fuckin' fairy," you dryly say, spitting more blood out.

He lets out a gravelly, mirthless chuckle. "Got jokes. Huh?"

You narrow your eyes at him. "I'm not a bat."

He hums, inching closer, his heavy boots making a metallic thud with each step. "It's in your best interest to not lie to me," he leers.

"I'm not," you hiss. "I'm just helping him."

He hums, low and ominous. "Didn't think the big bat needed help," he sneers. "Guess I was mistaken."

Before you could speak, a low voice echoed around the room. "Commander," a militia thug says, addressing the man you were speaking to, not sparing you a glance.

"What do you want?" The modulated voice grits, clearly agitated by his intrusion.

"Someone's hacked our communication system. Impersonated a guard," the militia thug says in a reverent tone.

The Knight lets out an irritated sigh, eyes darting to the militia thug. "Little late on the heads up," his tone cold and calculated as he gestures to you.

The military thug draws his gun up to point at your head.

The Knight holds his hand up. "Don't bother. I'll take care of her," he exasperates. "If anyone else slips in these walls under your watch, I'll kill you."

The militia thug nods, dropping his gun to a resting position.

"Get out of my face," the Knight spits, striding the thug out of the room.

"You're him," you state with complete certainty. "The Arkham Knight."

"The one and only," his tone is smug and oozing confidence.

This doesn't make sense.

Bruce said he never comes to lower floors, especially with so little protection around him.

"What? Cat got your tongue," the Knight jests in a sarcastic, mocking tone, boots clunking as he inches closer.

"No. I'm—I'm just in awe of how ridiculous that suit looks," you sputter without realizing what you're saying, anxiety clawing up your spine as he steps in front of you.

He lets out a condescending laugh. "Was gonna go for black, but I didn't want Bruce to get all jealous," he drags out his words lazily, sarcasm apparent in his tone, before grabbing you by the arm.

You knew better than to try and fight him.

He had a whole militia on his side and you, a mere grapple gun.

He moved you through several corridors, passing several militia men strapped with weapons.

He had converted the once cheerful, bright mall into a military base with sandbags, barricades, and checkpoints around the area.

"Must have cost a fortune," you murmur under his tight grip as he leads you through another dark corridor.

"The cost is irrelevant. What matters is the results," his tone is dismissive and arrogant. "And soon Gotham will see the true value of my investment."

You nod weakly, turning to look forward as he leads you into a room heavily guarded by more militia members. Your eyes glaze around the room he pushed you into.

The room was sterile.

It had a bed to the side, maps, strategic plans scattered across the walls, and various gadgets.

If you had to guess, it was a bedroom.

Though it was devoid of any personal touches.

Seemingly serving only as a place of respite.

"What is this room?" You ask curiously, staying stationary as he closes the door behind him.

"Rest room," his voice is dry.

"Why so sterile?" You ask, feeling a surge of confidence.

He hesitates a moment, deciding how much to reveal. "This room...serves its purpose. It's a place to rest and recharge. Nothing more," he says in a guarded tone.

"Why'd you bring me here?" You question with caution.

"You're a liability," he rasped. "I should eliminate you for the sake of my mission."

As he spoke, he closed the distance between you, his face inches from yours.

"What?" Your eyes lock with his, bile rising up your throat. "You're just...going to kill me?"

"I might," he answers, cold and dark. "If you prove to be resourceful to me...perhaps I'll let you live."

You let out a shallow breath. "How do you mean?"

"How do I mean?" He dryly chuckles as he retorts your question. "How do you think I mean?" He questions, already slightly irritated.

He bends down next to you to pick up a loose piece of fabric. "Put the blindfold on," he says hastily, ripping off your mask.

You jerk your face to the side as he does so.

"Why?" You timidly question as he presses the fabric to your chest.

"Stop asking so many God-damn questions," his words were icy and clipped. "You want to leave?"

"Yes," you whisper.

"This is the price of your freedom," he asserted.

"Put it on."

You hesitate for a moment before taking the piece of fabric and placing it over your eyes, tying it tightly in the back. Then you stand there, fingertips playing the hem of your shirt to try and suppress your uneasiness.

All you hear is a faint hiss from what you assume is his mask as he pulls it off his face, revealing a simple black mask that covers the majority of his face except his eyes and mouth.

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, inhaling a deep breath.

"What's wrong? Nervous?" He taunts, his voice unmodulated, gloved fingers coming up to trace down your jawline.

You pull away slightly, not expecting it.

"Ease up," he says, his hand coming back up to brush up on your skin.

You don't move under his touch this time, letting his hand explore your body.

"Never touched a woman before?" You sarcastically question, as his hands skim to the bottom of the shirt, easing it up a little.

"What business is that of yours?" He asks, his voice a little defensive.

"Need to know what I'm working with," you jokingly say.

He jerks you towards him by your hand. You squeal at his harsh touch. "Make no mistake. I am in control. I can kill you or have you killed with the snap of my fingers," he snarls.

"Do not test my patience."

You release a shaky breath at his sudden change.

"Nod, so I know you hear me," he adopted his signature authoritative tone.

You nodded fervently to not piss him off again.

"Good girl," he praises, fingers gripping the hem of your shirt again, pulling it over your head and throwing it on the ground.

The tension was palpable as you stood before him in your simple bra and pants.

You were at his mercy.

The thought didn't scare you as much as it should have. Instead, you found a strange thrill in the unexpected, a pleasure in the unknown.

He steps closer, the metallic clank of his boots giving away his position. You can feel his warm breath on your skin. The feeling made your chest tighten and palms clammy with disquiet.

You jumped a little as you felt his lips press into yours with a blazing kiss, though your lips moved with much haste against his, moving a mile a minute.

What the hell were you doing?

Your mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts, but your body seemed to have a mind of its own.

This was a recon mission, and yet here you were, kissing the very same guy you were supposed to help take down.

The internal conflict was tearing you apart.

This was you bartering for your freedom, you try to rationalize.

But then, why were you so hot and bothered?

You couldn't help the knot that twisted in your stomach at the fiery exchange and the pool of wetness you're sure had gathered in your panties.

"Take your pants off," the words fall off his tongue in a mumble into your lips, almost as if it was an ask.

But you knew it was an order.

Your hands move quickly to the waistband of your pants, tugging them down rather quickly. Then, you step over them to push them to the side.

He hums a sound of satisfaction. "So obedient."

You release a sigh, notably unlike your previous ones out of apprehension.

This one was all pleasure; there was no mistake about that.

His lips press back to yours briefly but powerfully before his hands tug down your panties.

"Christ. Do you like this?" His tone is incredulous and skeptical as he sees some of your glistening arousal.

You don't answer, only swallow hard.

"Answer me," he commands, firm and detached.

"Yes," you swiftly say.

He huffs at your revelation, outwardly revolted though internally pleased. You feel his hands push you back until your legs hit the edge of a bed before forcing you to lay back.

You lay docile as you hear the soft hiss of seals releasing as he shed his suit. The creak of armor plating echoed around the room, followed by a rustle of fabric and wiring as the suit's inner layer was exposed.

His fingers skim your thighs, eliciting a whine from you as he maneuvers himself on top of your body. Without warning, his cock slides into your aching cunt.

He grunts at the contact as he slips himself deeper into you.

Your body jerks forward, mouth hanging wide open as he pumps himself in and out of you, gripping your thighs tightly.

He moves quickly and has no plans to slow down anytime soon, and you need to come.

So, you slowly move your fingers down to rub small circles around your clit, moaning loudly.

He scowls, leaning down to bite your shoulder in warning.

You hiss as his teeth sink into your flesh.

"Behave," he instructs, pulling your hand away from your aching clit.

He grips your leg so it lays flat against his chest, letting him hit a deeper angle that has him groaning.

"What would the Dark Knight have to say?" His tone is venomous as he continues. "Huh?" He urges. "His latest project getting fucked by me?" He grits, fingers digging deeper into the fat of your thigh.

"Should I make you ask him?"

"Ask him your fuckin' self," you grit out, trying to concentrate on the orgasm blooming in your lower stomach.

He lets out a harsh, menacing chuckle.

"Won't have time to ask when I kill him where he stands."

You lean your head back, mouth agape, feeling yourself on the cusp of relief.

"Don't come," his voice booms around the small room, clouding your ears.

"I can't—I can't hold it," you whine, squirming with desire.

"You can and you will," he spat, pumping into you faster—testing you.

You let out a strangled moan as you grip the sheets under you tight, feeling your nails dig into your palms through the fabric, attempting to think about anything other than your raging need to come.

He lets out an anguished groan.

You could tell he was painfully close—as were you.

While he comes, certainly feeling euphoric, you are left with the feeling of tightness and a looming release.

"Can I—please," you beseech.

A twisted smile you can't see overtakes his face hearing you beg.

"Go on then," he stoically says—like he's being generous.

Your fingers reach down to rub your clit with speed; it doesn't take much time until you're moaning loudly, and your arousal coats your fingers, even dripping onto the sheets beneath you.

Legs shaking, you pull your fingers away, trying to recuperate.

You aren't sure you've ever had a better orgasm in your life.

"Flip over. We aren't done here," he issued in a low tone, just as you were coming down from your high.

You paused briefly before weakly flipping your body over so your stomach lay flat on the bed.

He grips your hips upward, positioning you so your hands and knees are pressed into the mattress, making you hiss due to soreness.

Pulling you by your hips back, he positions his cock into your entrance, slipping inside you with ease again. You wail at the contact, still delicate—he doesn't care.

He pumps faster and faster with no regard to your sensitive state, fingers digging into your hips as he pushes you back onto him.

You're already starting to feel a tightness in your stomach, signaling your impending orgasm.

You won't last long with him drilling into you so rapidly, and the groans that fall from his lips have you panting and wailing.

Since he appears to like a beggar—you beg.

"Please. Can I—can I?" You plead, feeling your cunt start to tighten around his cock.

"Oh. You're not coming again," he spoke, his voice gravelly and breathy. "This one is just for me—just for me."

You let out a whine as you feel him come, cursing under his breath again as you are left with the feeling of tension and longing.

His breathing is labored as he shuffles to put his gear back on. You stay in the same position he left you in until he orders you to do otherwise.

"Get dressed," his voice is modulated again.

It's colder.

You slowly get off the bed, stand, and attempt to skim for your clothes with the stupid blindfold on.

He rips it off. "Leave. Now. Before you find I'm not so merciful the second time around," his tone was eerie.

You nod feebly, gripping your clothes and slipping them on impetuously, not even checking if they are inside out or facing the right way.

Turning on your heels, you head for the door you came in, looking over your shoulder when you hear his voice again.

"And remember, you owe me for not slaughtering you," his voice dripped with malice.

You turn back, forcefully pushing the door open as you walk with intention and speed toward the back exit.

He knew you wouldn't tell the Bat anything.

What could you tell him?

That the Arkham Knight fucked you so good you're going to be sore for the weeks to come.

You slip your mask on to alert Babs that you are leaving the area.

Her voice booms through the intercom in your mask.

"Find anything of interest?" She questions, none the wiser.

You continue to walk, half listening.

"You there?" She implores.

"Huh? Oh, no. Nothing worth noting," you suspire.

"Are you alright?" She asks with a concerned tone.

"Yeah. Just...tired. Talk later," you hurriedly say, cutting the line and making your way over to your vehicle a bit away from the facility.

The sex was transactional, you remind yourself.

Though, that reminder didn't stop the Arkham Knight's presence from lingering on your skin for days after the interaction, a haunting reminder of the forbidden thrill you'd shared.

Gotham's darkness had never felt so alive and so painfully tempting.

a/n: so, anyways...it's back lol

divider!

[justjessame]

Silence: Chapter 18

Preparation for Halloween seemed a little crazy, in my opinion, given the current world events. Yet a carnival of sorts was planned, along with Pam’s asinine masquerade shindig, which I was looking forward to with the same excitement a visit to have a root canal without anesthesia might warrant.

Bowing out of the unofficial festivities while also giving the staff at the library a chance to partake in them, I opted to keep the library open. The staff was so efficient, now that they had a clear path forward, that I mostly sat behind the circulation desk reading the most interesting book I could find - “What To Expect When You’re Expecting.”

The first people that chose the library over the celebratory events occurring beyond the front door weren’t much of a surprise to me - I had begun to expect the check-ins from the former inhabitants of Alexandria. Carol knew I’d had a checkup with Tomi, so of course she wanted to know if everything was running according to plan - I wondered if she always spoke as if preparing for battle, but I didn’t want to ruin this newfound comradery that I found comforting. Hormones, I figured, yet it didn’t make me enjoy the interactions any less. Daryl was with her, along with Judith and RJ - both of whom I knew were chomping at the bit to go see what a holiday carnival looked like.

I didn’t force them to linger too long, Daryl looked as if he might want to hang out in the quiet longer - like a good uncle he allowed himself to be tugged outside, but warned his two charges that he wouldn’t be running around too long. Carol concurred, since she was pressed to serve food during the carnival. Daryl would be on duty later, during the masquerade, and I smiled and shooed them out, reminding all of them that there was more fun to be had in the sunshine than among the stacks keeping me company. I heard Carol greeting someone as they left, but turned back to my book, certain that whomever she was speaking to would be heading toward the entertainment outside, not in.

Kelly, who I recalled slightly from my time in Daryl and Carol’s old digs, was smiling beside another woman - Connie, I was told and realized that she’d been missing during my stay in a slowly dying community. Deaf and ambitious, she was working for the Commonwealth newspaper and wanted they wanted to interview me -

“As the head of the library and school or -” their smiles didn’t falter, but they did grow taunt. “I see.”

“Your roles are interesting within the walls,” Kelly offered, then dove right in with the reminder of just who I was in the grand scheme of things. “You never told us that your grandfather was -”

Holding back a sigh was harder than it sounds, but I managed. “I wonder why I didn’t?” it was clearly hypothetical and I was gratified to see they both understood it, even as Connie’s hand worked to take notes. “The truth is,” what was the truth, actually? “Outside these walls, and even inside them, I don’t honestly see why it would matter.” Close enough. “My grandfather was a former President, but that was ages ago, literally.” I sat my book down, having closed it, but keeping it in my lap just in case the visit was short. “The fact that my aunt utilizes the family name and continues to govern as though it were a right of birth is her thing, not mine.” Disbelief met this, and I couldn’t hold the sigh back any longer. “I took the positions I have because they were most suited to my former experience and that seems to be what the Commonwealth is all about, right?”

Not entirely convinced, but they backed off a bit. The questions turned to the changes I’d made at the school - the ideas for teaching the next generation's preparation for the “what if” scenarios that my aunt seemed incapable to appreciate, even if I didn’t say precisely that. Whether the library had more members after the grand opening, and fluffy questions that made it seem as if they weren’t looking for dirt on Pam and her leadership.

After they assured me they would give me an advance read of Connie’s article, not that I asked, they left and I went back to my blissfully quiet day.

If only I could have parlayed my quiet day into an equally quiet evening, but that wouldn’t do with Auntie Pam’s party that I was reminded I’d be required to attend - a letter delivered to the library just before I locked the doors telling me where I could stand or sit that wouldn’t have a hint of a whiff of anything sugary. My darling aunt’s handwriting also offered that she hoped I found the gown she’d found for me not only acceptable, but as lovely as she’d found it. Rolling my eyes, since my guards were a few steps behind, I realized she expected gratitude for the “gift”. Dear God.

Inside my cozy abode, I let loose another sigh and instead of taking a long hot bath, eating whatever I chose to make for my dinner, and settling in for more reading and relaxing, I had to prepare for an event I’d rather ignore.

I did get the long hot bath - my tiny terrors insisted on something relaxing lest they toss my proverbial cookies all over everything and while the idea of calling in sick, with my luck Pam would simply send Sebastian out to poke and prod me until I was forced to attend regardless. I’d seen members of our family try to use real illness to get out of a family obligation before, and that’s usually - with different members enacting different roles - how things would go.

Once I was soothed, or at least the babies were, I stood glaring down at the dress and wondered if she was pulling some elaborate prank on me. Why else would she choose something so white and somewhat indecent? Was that it? Was I both a Madonna and whore? Satin with tucks and pulls to showcase my ever growing bump, the neckline was such a deep v that I had to either thank the pregnancy gods for my bounteous bust or curse them - I chose the latter, but the cursing was directed at a much closer target. There was a demi-mask tucked into the box along with a tiny piece of jewelry that made me almost certain that this entire thing was a joke, but the card accompanying it in the square velvet box corrected me. It was simply to keep those pesky commoner tongues from wagging - not an exact quote, but I could read between the lines.

“If you wear this, even after tonight, perhaps awkward questions will stop about your condition -

PM”

I wondered who was asking awkward questions and if they made her squirm? I hoped so. Yet I couldn’t deny the ring was - wait, I turned the tiny circle over in my palm and squinted at the inner band and there it was, my grandparents’ initials and a date that I knew must have been their wedding day. It wasn’t a simple gold or silver band, nothing was ever simple in the Milton family - no it was an eternity band, triple rows of diamonds circling to form a band that might (dare I pray) not fit my not really swollen finger. Sliding it on my left ring finger felt wrong, but it was a family heirloom after all, and eerily it fit. Perfectly. I turned the card over, wondering if Pam had concocted an entire background for this missing baby daddy of mine, but it was blank. Damn, and she prided herself on thinking of everything.

Dressed, sans mask because it felt like it was smothering me - even if it was made of something lacy, with shoes to match (one day I might fully appreciate the closet I was gifted with, but not at the moment) I opened the front door and told the guards I was as ready as I could get.

The streets were still crowded and as I neared the source of my discomfort I realized this was our new world’s version of a red carpet event. Shit. People were in a crush, watching who came and entered, and I was gently pushed along getting inside without any interaction with the gawkers and lurkers. Inside wasn’t much better, but I found the corner that was reserved for me and my sweet hating offspring, sitting up a very embarrassed version of court - or so it seemed as people came to me, to meet an mingle - and at least one was someone I didn’t feel completely browbeat to greet.

“Tomi,” I had managed a sip of cool water before he was standing in front of me, a lovely woman beside him. “I’m glad you came.” And I was, my doctor close at hand might give me a slight chance of begging off early - doctor’s orders and all that.

His smile was bright and his face flushed. “Elara,” he was always welcoming, but now he sounded a little cozier than usual - the glass in his hand, barely a sip left, let me know that my doctor was well on the way to becoming sloshed. “Allow me to introduce my sister, Yumiko.” She looked less than excited, and a little less formal and more professionally dressed.

We chatted, and I learned that Yumiko was a lawyer, that she was clearly worried about Tomi’s condition and seeing him flag down and drink two more glasses while our short chat progressed, I had to agree with her.

Mercer, the formidable guard who always wore reddish orange to distinguish him from the others, looked almost unrecognizable in a tailored suit and the young woman beside him looked fit to burst to be next to him - or at the party - it was hard to tell.

I watched and listened, trying to keep myself occupied while waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It came when Pam arrived and took the stage, so to speak, feigning she couldn’t find me in the crowd, she requested my presence at her side - teasing that she promised nothing with a hint of sugar was near her. A smattering of quiet laughter met her joke and I felt myself yearning for any excuse to bow out, but sadly a guard was at my side helping me make my way through the guests to my aunt’s side. Sebastian was invisible to me, but then again he had always been an irritating child, I could only imagine his personality now that he was an adult.

I didn’t listen as she prattled on and on, or if it was a short speech, I was ready to leave - if I’d ever been truly ready to come. Then there it was, the portrait of President Milton - I couldn’t say Grandfather or even think it because he looked only like the figure, not the man I had known during the specks of memories I had of him.

Chaos struck, a waiter armed with a knife had Max tight against him, the knifepoint close enough to make me feel a different type of sick. He was throwing accusations at Pamela. Dark and terrible, how he’d lost everything due to a mistake and how everyone like him meant nothing to her - that she was a liar. Max showed far more patience and calm than I thought possible, soothing the man’s frayed nerves and then he was gone, or going.

It shouldn’t have shocked me that the party continued, that a few titterings and then as if we’d all dreamt it - nothing.

Suddenly my errant cousin was there, hostage taking waiter in hand. Standing close to Pam, I listened as he raved, or rebelled - “RESIST THE COMMONWEALTH! VISIBILITY FOR WORKERS! EQUALITY FOR ALL!” warning that he was one of thousands -

My aunt either thought I was out of earshot or that I was loyal to blood above all, told her minion Hornsby to investigate and I felt like the evening had to be over.