#even if it meant raising a dinosaur from the death

[zealouswitchwerewolf]

Necromancer!Damian Au except it's just Damian chucking dead animals at the pit to see what happens (what happens is Damian gets an army of undead loyal animals that will bite anything and everything except Damian and are fiercely protective to the point where no one can seem to get within a 5 feet radius of him. Talia is torn. On the one side it means her baby is safe and can't be reached by Ra's or anyone with ill will towards him, on the other, she also can't reach him. Funnily enough, Damian's army is getting more and more extravagant cause he realized anything dead he throws at the pit comes back so he started with pets and is now chucking random bones at it).

It's all fun and games until Damian finds Tim, a kid a bit older than him traveling with his parents in an archeological expedition who happens to be carrying the huge bones of an undiscovered animal and is on his way to deliver them to the museum. It doesn't take much for Damian to convince Tim to come with him and throw them at the pit, see what happens. It's a 30 feet long dinosaur. It's big and scary and takes chunks of everything and everyone that gets within 10 meters of him, except Damian and Tim. Naturally, Damian tries to convert it into vegetarianism. Funnily enough, whenever he feels like he's making progress a league traitor is somehow found too close to the dinosaur and it's back to the start for them.

[writeplace-wrongtime]

Before the Bet

First of all, thank you to everyone who interacted with The Bet. Seeing reblogs, likes and comments literally made my week, I appreciate all of you!

It also boosted my motivation, so I'm back with a 5+1 prequel to the bet - It can be read standalone as well, but if you haven't read The Bet, check it out here!

This was meant to be like 2000 words max but here we are.

masterlist coming soon

Word Count: 5k~

CW// mentions of blood/fainting, stabbing, arrest, hospitals, mentions of child kidnapping/death, use of y/n, not beta'd

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

5 times reader and Hotch hid their relationship + 1 time they didn't need to

5

The BAU rarely had quiet days. Whenever they cropped up, it meant hours of catching up on paperwork and emails, and even more so it meant getting to goof around the office without the usual level of urgency. In short, quiet days were nice.

You had spent the morning sorting through all the files in, on, or around your desk, hoping to clear up some space for the files that would surely start piling up again in the coming weeks. Old case files were sorted into one file to be moved to the proper storage rooms, while newer files were sorted according to date and case number, until you had an oldest-newest pile to work through in the afternoon.

Occasionally on quiet days, Aaron would offer to buy everyone coffee, and Emily and Derek would fight over who got to go pick it up. Today, was not one of those days. JJ and Henry had brought little Henry in for a visit, and with them came fresh muffins and cakes from the bakery near their house. A little after noon, you decided it was the perfect time for a cheap office-coffee refill, and a quiet time to sneak an extra muffin back to your desk.

The kitchen was quiet, with most of the office either holding off until lunch, or already sorted after their coffee break a couple hours earlier. You had just topped up the instant coffee when the door creaked open. You didn’t look up until a hand ghosted your lower back, and the sleeve of Aaron’s suit reached your peripheral vision. He leaned against the countertop, somewhere between beside and behind you, and you turned to face him. There was a smile on his lips, but a crinkle on his forehead where he’d previously been frowning at paperwork.

‘Coffee?’ He just nodded as you reached past him to grab his usual “no.1 Dad” mug Spencer and JJ had bought him one Christmas as a gag gift. You filled the two mugs, enjoying the closeness you often missed out on during work hours.

‘Dinner,’ He spoke suddenly, catching your attention, ‘Us, we should get dinner.’

You had had many dates over the 2 months since your relationship with Aaron had started, but every time he directly asked you out, whether to dinner or a movie, he always seemed unsure of himself.

‘You asking me on a date, sir?’ You teased, leaning against the counter in a perfect mirror of his position. He laughed, a quiet breathy sound that sent butterflies to your stomach.

‘Trying to, yes.’ Your smile grew.

‘Dinner sounds lovely, Aaron,’ Your voice had become quieter, but no less audible to him as you leaned fractionally closer. ‘Jack was telling me about the restaurant you went to last week, the one that had the dinosaur colouring sheets?’

He nodded thoughtfully as you slid his coffee towards him. He took a sip, before leaving the mug back down on the counter. ‘They had a great selection of colours,’ He said with a fond smile. You loved hearing him speak about Jack; the obvious pride displayed across his face whenever his son came into the conversation.

You were just about to ask if he’d kept the coloured sheet when the door’s squeaky hinges creaked loudly, and you jumped apart. Emily stood at the door’s entrance, eyebrows raised at the scene before her. Aaron looked between you and her, moving another step back as subtly as he could.

‘Thanks, uh, that eyelash has been bothering me all morning!’ You blurted out, voice just slightly too loud. You brought your hand to your face, wiping at the phantom eyelash as if to remove it. With a little more distance now between you, you were able to steady your beating heart. When Aaron made no move to leave, you picked up your own coffee, added a touch of cold water, and made a beeline for the door. You rolled your eyes at Emily as you passed, pointedly not looking at the kissy face she made when Aaron had turned back to the sink. Emily moved further into the kitchen then, but Aaron was already heading for the door, eyes following you as you sat back down at your desk with a muffin he hadn't even seen you grab.

‘Hey Hotch?’ He paused at the door, turning to see Emily with his coffee mug in hand, holding it out as if to offer it to him, ‘You forget something?’ There was an obvious teasing lilt to her tone, but he chose to ignore it, hoping he would be back in his office before the scarlet tint reached his cheeks. He wasn’t. He opted to instead hide his face behind the rim of the mug, taking a sip of the hot coffee. With one last glance towards your desk, he disappeared back into his office, and if anyone noticed the door shut a little faster than normal, no one mentioned it.

4

The knock on his office door alerted Aaron to your early morning arrival. He was used to being the first to the office, especially when the cases were stacking up like they were now. Since your relationship had started 4 months ago, you had taken to bringing him coffee on such days. He appreciated it.

‘Morning, handsome.’ You had a sleepy smile on your face as you stepped into the office. In your hands you carried two coffee cups. While you hadn’t spent the night at Aaron’s apartment, you knew he would be up early and in the office at a ridiculous hour. Where there was work to be done, he was always nearby. His shoulders visibly relaxed as you placed the coffees in front of him.

‘I don’t know what I’d do without you,’ He sighed, an equally tired smile on his own face. The hands of his watch ticked loudly in the otherwise quiet office, and a quick glance showed it was nearly half seven. You weren’t due in until 9. Hands now free, you pulled a chair closer, settling into it before picking back up your own coffee. You reached out and plucked a file from the desk.

‘A problem shared is a problem halved!’ You argued when he raised his eyebrows at you. The usual accompanying frown was absent, so you knew he wasn’t really annoyed at the intrusion, nor the cheesy proverb.  

‘Not when half of the problems are confidential.’ You rolled your eyes but conceded. The file was returned to the pile, and you moved to stand. ‘But the company would be appreciated.’

Your attempt to hide your smile was terrible. You blamed your tiredness. Aaron appreciated this time with you. Early enough that there was no worry about anyone seeing the fondness in his expression while you told him about your adventures in cooking the evening before, or the lovestruck smile on your face when he took your hand in his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before returning to the file in front of him, fingers still intertwined with yours.

Well, no one except David Rossi. David who had come into work early to enjoy the peace of organising himself for the day before everyone else arrived. David who quietly closed his office door to allow you what little time together you could get at the office.

3

Weekends off were rare. So, when they came around, everyone celebrated. Team-bonding nights out had become more regular since Emily’s return from “death”. Friday nights before a weekend off were almost always spent together at a bar, club, or occasionally Rossi’s house for impromptu cooking lessons. Penelope and Emily often took turns trying to wing-man for you, and even JJ joined in after a couple drinks. Usually, you used the excuse of wanting to enjoy their company, but occasionally you called an early night to get a break from their incessant need to insert themselves into your sex-life. If you’d been single, you probably would’ve appreciated it. But you weren’t.

The previous night had been one of those early nights. Aaron hadn’t come out with everyone, insisting he needed to finish up some reports and to go on without him. As much as you’d enjoyed the few hours out with your team, you’d decided early in the night that once you’d had three drinks, you were going to go back to Aaron’s apartment and enjoy the rest of the evening with him. It wasn’t often that you had the apartment to yourselves on a Friday night, but Jessica had offered to have Jack for a sleepover. You wanted to make the most of it.

To wake up naturally, no blaring alarm clock or ringing phone, was a blessing. The room was lit by dim light behind closed curtains, and the only sounds were that of birds outside and the quiet snoring of Aaron behind you. His arm was draped over your waist, keeping you warm where his bare skin touched yours. Slow mornings were good mornings. You rolled in his arms until you were facing him, tracing the outline of his face with your eyes. He really was the most handsome man you’d ever seen. It was something you reminded him often.

‘Morning,’ His voice, though usually deep, was always deeper in the mornings, sending shivers down your spine. Your eyes met his half-open ones, and you leaned in to press a kiss to his lips. The only thing you loved more than spending the night with Aaron, was waking up to him the next morning. He chased your lips as you leaned back, swallowing your laugh as he caught them with his. Large hands encircled your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

Swinging a leg over his waist, you manoeuvred yourself over him without breaking the kiss, earning a groan as you rolled your hips languidly down on his. His lips broke away from yours, only to reattach further down your neck, wandering hands moving up and under your pyjama top in their search for skin. You buried your fingers in his hair, tugging gently as his hips rose to meet yours. Moving one hand to the back of your neck, the other around your back, Aaron flipped you, positioning himself on top of you. He kept his weight off you with one arm, which lay next to your head while the other resumed its journey up your side towards your chest. He took a moment to look down at you, appreciating the view below him before he returned his lips to the expanse of untouched skin below your collarbone.

Your hands were half-way to tugging at his shirt when the loud ring of his phone broke you apart. Your eyes stayed closed, a sigh leaving you as he rolled over and off you to grab the device off the side table.

‘Hello?’ His voice was still breathy as he picked up the call, but you could tell instantly it was a work call as his voice became stern and serious. He was on the call for barely thirty seconds before you realised what a work call at 9am on a Saturday meant for you both. ‘Of course. I’ll be there soon.’

The disappointment at your ruined weekend plans was evident on your face. Aaron was already sitting up, stretching out sleep-sore muscles and trying to get the blood circulating back around his entire body. You opened your mouth to try and persuade him to lie back down, just for five more minutes, when your own phone rang. You didn’t need to see the caller ID to know it was Penelope, the unique ringtone she’d set for herself playing loud and clear.

‘Please god let this be a social call.’ There were nicer ways to answer the phone; you didn’t care to use one.

‘I hate being the bearer of bad news, but they found a body in Monogahela national forest, and its not looking pretty,’ Penelope said, an apologetic tone to her normally cheery voice, ‘But don’t worry my love, our resident Boy Genius promised to bring coffees and pastries for everyone.’

‘He’s really earning that genius title,’ You laughed, turning your head slightly to get a better view of Aaron, who was pulling dress pants out of the wardrobe and searching for a tie to match the shirt he’d already laid out at the foot of the bed. He held up two options when he saw you looking. It was very domestic, and you felt all the more disappointed that in one short hour, you’d be back to pretending you hadn’t spent the night - and start of the morning - between the sheets with him. Back to pretending that you weren’t planning to spend the weekend helping Jack bake cookies and cakes for his schools bake sale on Monday, and going for a run with Aaron before you tried to recreate one of Dave’s pasta recipes for dinner with Jack and Jessica. Back to pretending he was just your boss.

You looked away, trying to focus back on Penelope’s words as she explained the flight times and what you needed to add to your go bag. You were glad you’d put your spare overnight bag into the boot of Aarons car.

‘Fuck!’

Yours eyes widened at the sudden exclamation, head whipping back around to see Aaron holding his foot. You barely had time to deduce that he’d stubbed his toe before Penelope’s voice was screaming through the receiver at you.

‘OH MY GOD! Was that a man???’ You were at a loss for words, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation. Thankfully, Penelope had no interest in waiting for your response. ‘I thought you went home early, you sly fox!’

‘Listen Pen, I have to go,’ You said quickly, ‘See you soon!’

You pulled the phone away from your ear, her threats of finding out all the details later cut off as you hung up. There was a moment of silence, before you burst out laughing, clutching your stomach tightly. Aaron’s laugh followed yours seconds later, both of you revelling in the ridiculousness of the situation. Seven months of secrets and it was nearly all revealed over a stubbed toe. By the time the laughter had subsided, Aaron had sat back down next to you. You leaned into him, pressing a kiss to his exposed collarbone.

‘You know she’s gonna quiz me about this the entire flight, right?’

2

Cases involving children were always hard. After a week of searching and profiling and praying, the team had identified and located the unsub. Five missing children over six months. The latest victim, a young girl kidnapped from the local fair, had been the missing piece of the puzzle that led you to the unsub, but the team had been too late, arriving in time to catch the unsub wrapping her body for disposal. The arrest had been horrible, but sitting with JJ while she informed the victim’s parents was even worse.

By the end of the day, you were completely and utterly drained. You wanted to be back in your own bed, in your own apartment, not in a stuffy hotel room overthinking every decision you had made. Those parents wanted their little girl back. You tried to push the thought from your mind. After nearly an hour in the vicious hell of your own company, you dragged yourself off the bed, and down the hallway to the room you knew Aaron had. You had never been more grateful for the increased hotel budget allowing the team individual rooms on this case.

He was quick to answer the door, still in his suit, though his tie hung undone around his neck. He looked roughly how you felt.  His frown deepened when he saw you, standing with your arms around your torso, eyes red and puffy.

‘Come here,’ he said, already reaching out for you. No more words were needed as he wrapped you up in his embrace, holding you against him. The door swung shut behind you as he guided you further into the room. It was identical to yours, with a double bed in the centre, a small coffee machine and mug on the edge of a small desk, and a door leading into a small bathroom.  Unlike yours, most of Aaron’s belongings had been packed away into his overnight bag, gun and badge sitting on top of the open bag.

‘I hate cases like this,’ you whispered into his neck, letting the repetitive motion of his hand rubbing your back soothe you.

‘I know, so do I.’

You stood together in the middle of the room for a long time before you pulled back. Not far enough to be out of Aaron’s arms, but enough that you could look at him. His brow was furrowed as he met your gaze, face all full of worry and exhaustion. You reached up, running your thumb along his brow to soften the expression, smoothing out the lines. He leaned into your touch. Catching your wrist in his hand, he peppered kisses along the inside of it, following the line all the way to your palm. It was methodical, kisses following the vein as far as they could.

You looped the fingers of your free hand into the loop of his tie, pulling him to you until your lips met his. The kiss wasn’t rushed, or hungry. It was soft and gentle, anchoring you to the present, and away from the past two days. When he pulled back, he let his forehead rest against yours, eyes still closed. It was the moment of calm you had been hoping for since you’d first arrived. It wouldn’t solve all your problems, or take away all the guilt you felt, but it could keep them from overwhelming you entirely. After a minute, you opened your eyes.

‘I really should head back, my bags not going to pack itself, and I do not want to be stuck here any longer than I have to be,’ you said, stepping out of his space with much difficulty. You wanted to stay, borrow his shirt to sleep in and worry about everything else tomorrow, but your flight was early, and you really didn’t want to be rushing to get packed before take-off.

‘I’ll be here if you need me,’ He voice was almost hoarse with how soft he spoke, pulling you back in for one last kiss. You turned then, and left the room, pulling the door shut behind you. You still felt horrible, but the heavy weight on your chest had eased off. That was all you could hope for tonight.

‘Isn’t that Hotch’s room?’ You froze like a deer in headlights outside the door as Spencer’s voice reached your ears. You turned to look at him over your shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t notice the panic-stricken expression on your face.

‘Uh, yeah,’ You forced out, ‘Yeah he uh- you see, my shower wasn’t working.’ Your brain felt fried, but the excuse wasn’t the worst you’d come up with over the previous nine months. ‘He let me us his. Shower.’ Spencer blinked at you, and for a frighteningly long minute, he said nothing.

‘That’s nice of him,’ He said finally, lips curling into a half-smile, ‘Hey, Emily, Derek and I were going to go down to the bar for a drink, if you want to come?’

‘Sounds great, Spence,’ You mirrored his smile, ‘I need to pack, so I’ll meet you down there?’ He nodded, and with that he disappeared down the hall, and you took a deep breath. You’d have to tell them eventually, but not tonight. Not tonight.

You wouldn’t realise until days later that your hair had been completely dry, you had no towels with you, and your excuse had been ridiculously transparent.

1

You knew it was a bad idea to sit next to Aaron on the flight back, but it had been a tough case, and you couldn’t help but yearn for his comfort. Even though it had been short, everyone seemed to be feeling it. With Derek passed out across the couch, and Emily and Spencer focused on their game of cards, there hadn’t been much stopping you gingerly leaning closer to the warmth radiating from the man next to you. He acknowledged your careful closeness by letting the free hand not occupied by the case report drop to rest on your knee under the table.

The coffee you’d made for yourself after boarding had only increased your adrenaline crash, and you could feel your eyelids drooping even as you fought to keep them open. It was a losing battle. The soft material of Aaron’s shirt made contact with your cheek as you leaned against his shoulder. The muscles beneath you tensed, but not enough to wake you from the sleep that had taken over quite rapidly.

Aaron glanced down at you before back up at the rest of the team. JJ was nowhere to be seen, probably in the small airplane kitchen, and the others seemed to be otherwise occupied. When he was sure no one was paying any attention to your little corner of the plane, he allowed himself to relax. It was a needed comfort after the weeks work. His thumb drew soft circles on your thigh, and for the first time all week, he closed the case file and his eyes. Just a minute of peace, that’s all he needed.

The minute ended rather abruptly when the hushed voices of Emily and JJ reached his ears. He stubbornly kept his eyes shut.

‘Think he’d let the rest of his drool on his shoulder like that?’ Emily’s voice was just about audible, the teasing grin on her face clear in his mind even without seeing it. He thought about waking you, pretending it was all just tiredness, and moving on like there weren’t four pairs of eyes on you both. But he couldn’t. Not when your body curved toward him, unaware of its unconscious betrayal. Your hair tickled where it brushed against his neck.

Instead, he opened his eyes slowly, giving the onlookers a chance to turn away. They didn’t need to know he’d heard them. He didn’t need to know they would be continuing this conversation shortly after the plane landed. Dave, who sat across the row from Aaron, hid his smirk with his coffee mug, returning his focus to his book. With one last soft look in your direction (which didn’t go unnoticed by Emily and Spencer), Aaron picked up the case file and got back to work.

+1

‘Fuck.’ You were bent at the middle, hands on your knees for support as you tried to catch a breath. Derek and one of the uniformed officers were already hauling the unsub off towards a police cruiser. A second uniformed officer was searching the area for the weapon, which had been lost in the scuffle. You brushed off Emily’s concern, promising her you were just winded. Straightening up, you swallowed a wince as your hands ached to go to your stinging side. ‘Just, just need to sit for a minute.’

‘We’ll take care of everything here, why don’t you go with Reid, get checked out by the paramedics?’ You blinked rapidly as you tried to focus back on her words.

‘I’m okay, Em, really,’ Your chest felt like it was on fire with every breath you took, but you forced a reassuring smile. She didn’t look reassured. ‘Fine, mom, I’ll get checked when Reid’s done.’

Emily’s concerned look didn’t fade, but she nodded, and you turned back towards the line of black SUVs. Once she had moved off to help make a perimeter around the scene, you slowly walked back to them. Thankfully, the lights and sirens had since been switched off. You pulled yourself into the passenger seat, trying to pretend it didn’t hurt so much. You couldn’t be weak in front of your team. You’d gotten a shock, that’s all. You were fine.

 A wave of tiredness crashed over you as soon as you sat down, leaning forward to balance yourself against the dash. You weren’t catching your breath, instead finding it harder and harder to fill your lungs. A few more minutes, that’s all you needed. You tried desperately to convince yourself the words were true, but as another breath burned its way down your trachea, panic started to set in. All too suddenly, your FBI vest felt too tight, your arms heavy as you tried to tear it off. With a lot of activity, you managed to get it loosened, but as soon as the pressure was released, your head started to spin rapidly. You closed your eyes tightly, trying to dispel the feeling, but within seconds, a darkness had swallowed you.

It could’ve been seconds, minutes, or hours before a sliver of consciousness crept back into your body. There was a noise to your left, and you dazedly tried to turn your head, but it wouldn’t move. You tried to focus on the window in front of you, but your vision was swimming. Feeling wobbly, you tried to push yourself up straighter, tried to turn and move, and then there was a warm hand on your shoulder, pushing you gently back against the seat.

‘Stay still.’ The words were commanding, but the voice was laced with worry. ‘The paramedics are almost here.’ And then, more distant as if the owner of the voice had moved away from you, he yelled, ‘Where are the medics?!’

You didn’t remember much after that, holding onto the voice as you drifted in and out of consciousness. Aaron remembered the whole journey too clearly. Guilt crept through him, worsening the longer it took to reach the hospital. He was sent to the waiting room while you were rushed into surgery. With an abundance of time, and a lack of answers, all he could do was replay the scene in his mind over and over and over again.

The arrest was meant to be easy. With no victims in the house, and no wives or kids in the picture to be used as hostages, it should’ve been easy to disarm the suspect and bring him into custody. Instead, he had let you just close enough to him to grab you and press a small knife against your side. You’d let your guard down when he’d given up so easily. You should’ve known better. It was a tense negotiation, the point of the blade piercing the material of your vest as JJ spoke to the man, Derek sneaking slowly behind him.

As soon as the unsub was fully distracted by JJ, Derek had moved in. Tackling the unsub to the ground had knocked you down with them, your head hitting the ground with a thump. The knife went skittering off as the man’s arm collided with the ground, but with Derek’s knee against his back and arms pressing down on his shoulders, he quickly lost the fight.

Aaron wanted to rush to you, to gather you in his arms and not let you go, but the captain of the police department had already turned his attention to the growing crowd of journalists and bystanders trying to get closer to get the full story. Emily had already gone to you, so with an unconscious scowl, Aaron turned and followed the captain towards the tape.  

It wasn’t long before he was joined by JJ and Dave, as the trio attempted to subdue the now impatient journalists and horrified neighbours.

‘Hotch!’ Emily’s voice carried over the commotion to reach his ears. He turned to watch her as she weaved through the crowd of officers to reach him. Dave glanced at them, before redirecting the journalists in front of them onto another question, leaving Aaron the gap he needed to step back.

‘What’s wrong?’ He didn’t wait for her to come to a stop, the concerned look on her face clueing him into the fact something was amiss.

‘Its y/n.’ Aaron swore in that moment his heart stopped beating. ‘They promised they’d get checked out by the medics, but Reid said they haven’t been anywhere near the ambulances.’

A quick glance over his shoulder showed JJ and Dave gaining control of the mob, and he nodded to Emily, already striding away from the mass of bodies. She was quick to follow. Taking the lead, she headed back towards the SUVs, where she assumed you must’ve gone. She hadn’t seen you when she passed, but it had been a quick pass.

Aaron himself nearly missed your figure through the tinted windows, slumped down in the seat. His heart stopped for a second time that day.

‘Get a medic!’ It was his voice yelling out, but it sounded distant, even to his own ears. With the door flung open, he put his hand on your shoulder and shook. Your head lolled with the motion, but your eyes fought to open. You were alive. Feeling resistance under his fingers, he gently pushed you back against the seat, eyes scanning your figure trying to find the damage. ‘Stay still,’ He tried to keep his voice steady and calm, swallowing the lump in his throat as a trail of red caught his attention. The bottom of your vest was torn and a shaded darker than the rest, a small red trail leaking out from underneath onto your white shirt. Carefully manoeuvring you to a position where he had better access, he pressed down hard against the dark spot.

‘The paramedics are almost here.’ He couldn’t tell if you could still hear him, your eyelids fluttering rapidly. He leaned out of the car as far as he could without lessening the pressure, ‘Where are the medics?!’

He could see two people in high vis jackets approaching quickly, Emily leading the way. Two big bags and a stretcher was carried between the two, and it was only mere seconds before they were ushering him back and out of their way so they could assess the damage.

Whatever they decided, it wasn’t good. They removed your vest, and shirt, and by the amount of packing being shoved back into one of the bags, the bleeding wasn’t slowing. If he wasn’t so panicked, Aaron would’ve appreciated how efficiently they worked. It was only five minutes before you were being packed into the back of the ambulance. Dave had been left in charge at the scene, with instructions to come to the hospital as soon as everything was cleared at the scene and the precinct.

The paramedic in the back with Aaron – Thomas, as he’d introduced himself – busied himself with taking sets of vitals every 5 minutes, monitoring the pressure bandages around your abdomen, and ensuring the flow of oxygen was at a steady level. All the while, he tried to keep Aaron clued into what was happening for every step.

By the time they’d reached the hospital, you had a sickly pallor. You were rushed immediately into an emergency theatre. Once the doors closed in front of him, it took every ounce of strength to carry his body to the waiting room. He sat for what felt like days, before a nurse came to find him. In reality it had been an intensive two-hour surgery, and a thankfully uneventful recovery. On route to your room, he was given the news that everything had gone smoothly. Luck had been on your side, and the wound had missed everything important. It had only barely nicked a large vein, which had caused the large bleed, but had been easy to fix. It would be at least six weeks of desk duty, but you would recover.

Sitting at your bedside, Aaron gripped your hand in his, careful not to squeeze too hard. He was positive you’d hit him if you felt he was treating you as if you were fragile, but until you woke up, he would take that chance. With the adrenaline dropping and the relief flooding in, all he could do was hold on and not let go. After 40 minutes of watching for signs of you waking up, Aaron could feel his eyelids dropping. He didn’t try keep them open, instead shuffling the chair closer to the edge of the bed. You would be there when he woke, as he would be when you woke.

Which you did, just over an hour later. Aaron was still asleep, and you were careful not to wake him. If it took you getting stabbed to get him a few extra hours of sleep, you were making damn sure he got all he could. A nurse came into the room shortly after you woke, and Aaron slept through the check-up. It was your turn to watch him. Admiring the calm in his sleepy features, and gently squeezing the hand still clutching yours. The nurse had let you know he’d been there from the second he'd been allowed in the room. You didn’t need to hear the words. You knew he loved you.

‘You can see them now.’

It had been a longer wait for the rest of the team, who’d arrived shortly after Aaron had left the waiting room. Together they stood and followed the nurse down the hallway into a quieter section of the hospital. Through the open door, they could see you, attached to tubes and wires, but eyes open and sitting up. Next to you was Aaron. The spare visitors seat had been pulled as close to the bed as possible, and that’s where he sat. He was clearly asleep, given the closed eyes and steady breaths. He was leaned slightly towards you, head tilted down. With his sleeves rolled to his elbows, his tie loose around his neck, and his hair in disarray, he looked about as unkempt as the team had ever seen him. But he also looked calm. His usually furrowed brow was relaxed, and his lips forwent their usual downturn in exchange for a slightly parted straight line. Your thumb absentmindedly smoothed over the skin of his knuckles, and you smiled fondly at his sleeping figure. It was sickeningly obvious from your expression that you had so much love for him.

When you finally felt eyes on you, you looked up to see four eager faces greeting you just outside your door. The fond smile on your face only got fonder as they quietly piled into the room. The noise woke Aaron, who’s eyes immediately found yours. Pulling your joined hands up, he pressed his lips to the back of your hand, before straightening up in the seat. He didn’t drop your hand.

Surrounded by your family, you couldn’t help but think that really, you were going to be just fine.

~~~~~

taglist: @michasia24

[stuffireadandenjoy]

Call of the Jurassic

A Jurassic Park/Call of Duty Fic

Chapter Three - AO3 Link

Words: 2.5k Warnings: canon typical violence, description of gore, animal death, animals injured Notes: This chapter is shorter but I'm happy with it!

Tag List: @snootlestheangel, @writeforfandoms, @syoddeye, @pfhwrittes, @deeptrashwitch, @bringinsexybackk69, @dragonnarrative-writes, @stigandr-the-cat, @kyletogaz

[If you want to be tagged for future updates, please leave a comment.]

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Ghost looked up hearing the truck’s engine, along with the sounds of snarling. He felt his heart pound loudly in his ears causing everything to be muffled but also even louder than before. 

“They’ll come back. They didn’t kill him. They didn’t kill him.” The Shadow cried, his knees giving out again just for Gaz to haul him back up by the back of his shirt.

“Bloody stand!” Gaz snarled, heaving the man back onto his legs. Ghost had ignored his bad feeling for a while. He’d noticed it long before they’d stepped on the island. This whole place felt like a death trap. Like something was always watching them. Waiting.

“Something’s wrong.” Price growled at Ghost’s shoulder. Ghost raised his rifle hearing the horn from the truck blare and continued with a comical high pitch honk. Ghost bit the inside of his cheek hearing a yell and more snarling. Price grabbed his arm as he stepped forward.

“Price.” Ghost bit out looking over his shoulder at the man. But he looked away, seeing the pity and pain in Price’s eyes. Ghost knew as well as Price that if Soap had been compromised, that if he was being attacked, they would need another plan. And there was nothing they could do for him. But everything in Ghost screamed to go to the other man. 

They both turned hearing the Shadow, which came as a surprise to everyone, crying more upon hearing the commotion of the vehicle. Gaz was struggling to keep the man on his feet.

“Cap. He won’t shut up.” 

“You shut your mouth right now or I’ll shut it for you.” Price threatened the man, fist tight around the man’s vest straps. The man just continued to sob and whimper.

“They didn’t kill him. They didn’t kill him.” 

Gaz and Price shared a look. If the man’s ravings were to be taken for any sort of truth, it meant there was at least one more of Petrov’s men alive. It also meant Petrov was working with Graves. Someone none of them were looking forward to seeing again. Price looked back at Ghost but saw the man kneeling, rifle raised. That’s when Price heard it. The engine and wheels on asphalt growing louder and louder.

Soap!

Price raised his own rifle and stood by Ghost. Ghost took the shot as soon as Soap came around the corner. Price watched, always impressed by his lieutenant, as a huge dinosaur fell from the truck. It rolled but quickly got to its feet with one big shake. Three more raced alongside the truck. Price and Ghost opened fire. The other dinosaurs immediately broke off from the chase and scattered to the trees. The one that Ghost had shot, a bigger one with a scar across its long snout, pulled its lips back and snarled, before following the others into the trees.

“Raptors!” Gaz called out, confirming Price’s suspicions.

Soap skidded to a stop and jumped out, quickly rounding the front of the truck. Ghost went to him and immediately started examining him. He had what looked like a bite mark in his shoulder, much too close to his neck. There were several deep gashes in his vest that would have definitely ripped him open had he not been wearing it. Soap was lucky he hadn’t bled out and that the bite missed anything major. 

“Gave ‘im hell, lt.” Soap laughed as Ghost immediately started bandaging him up as fast as possible. Price grabbed the Shadow by his vest. Him and Gaz hauled the man up into the bed of the truck. Time was of the essence. It was very possible the raptors wouldn’t stay away for long. Price thought they’d simply broken away due to the hunt becoming more complicated. A single man would be an easy kill for them. But four and armed to the teeth? Well at least it made them hesitate.

“Need to go.” Price barked, sliding into the driver’s side. He frowned seeing how much blood covered the wheel and dash. The seat had it splattered in all sorts of places.

“I’ll be fine!” Soap barked, climbing more delicately than normal, but still with haste, into the bed of the truck. Ghost frowned but quickly got into the passenger seat. He pulled out the map and directed Price back towards the valley they’d seen before. Ghost hoped they could lose the raptors amongst the herbivores. 

“Or the bastards could get trampled.” Ghost offered.

Soap groaned as Price hit just about every bump in the road. He ignored the Shadow’s babbling. Gaz leaned in close, hand resting on Soap’s forearm. He delicately examined Ghost’s rushed bandage job. Soap was already bleeding through and Gaz could tell his complexion was much paler than usual.

“Don’t ya worry your pretty head. I’ve lived through worse.” Soap grinned, giving Gaz an exaggerated wink. Gaz grinned with him but it fell quickly seeing blood drip slowly from Soap’s shoulder. He leaned through the hole that used to be the window. Frame bent out and twisted. Glass shattered and cracked in spider webs. Like something tried to crawl through it.

“Soap won’t be doing well too soon. We need to find somewhere to stitch him up.” 

Price frowned over at Ghost who was pouring over the map. 

“Gho-” Gaz started.

“I know.” Ghost gritted from between teeth behind his mask. Gaz took that as an indication to let the man be for now. Price gave Ghost a heavy pat on the knee before returning to the wheel. They needed a plan and needed one quick. 

“Trees.” Ghost growled.

Price looked over at Ghost as he looked up at the large trees around them. 

“Once we lose them we climb a tree. It’ll at least give us time to get Soap patched up.”

Price nodded. They were a mile down the road before Price noticed the movement in the trees along the road. He couldn’t make out the shapes amongst the foliage but he had a good idea of what was following them. 

“Cap!” Gaz called. Price could see him already aiming into the trees, tracking the movement.

“I see them.” He growled, his foot pressing down on the pedal. They kicked up dirt and grass as the tires dug in and they picked up speed. Price gritted his teeth feeling the whole frame start to shake. He grunted and winced as they hit a hole, bouncing the truck and leaning it in a precarious way. 

“Soap!” Gaz shouted, drawing Price’s attention to the rearview mirror. He watched as Soap quickly raised a pistol and took a shot at a raptor as it leapt into the bed of the truck. The bullet struck the raptor square in the chest, knocking it back and slamming against the tailgate hard enough to knock it open. Its body fell from the bed and rolled away. The other raptors melted from the foliage, easily keeping pace with the truck. They were so much faster than Gaz ever expected.

“Bloody hell!” Gaz spit as the truck hit another hole knocking him and Soap around. The truck tilted as the road began to slant down into the valley. Which made the two sergeants’ raptor problem even more difficult. With the tilt, the raptors had better angles to leap into the truck. Quickly taking a knee, Gaz aimed his rifle but as soon as he did the raptors began to dodge and weave.

“Fuckin’ scaly bastards.” Soap barked, shooting at a raptor that snapped at the tires. It ducked and sped up, keeping a distance from the side. A shout caught their attention as the Shadow fell, his arms still tied behind his back. He fell face first into the bed and bounced slightly out the back, tailgate long gone. His upper torso hanging off.

Gaz dropped his rifle and grabbed the Shadow by the back of his vest. Gaz felt the cuffs catch on something as he tugged. As much as he wanted to toss the idiot for a good distraction, they still needed information from him. Where were the rest of Petrov’s men? Why was a Shadow here? Why was Graves involved with Makarov? 

The truck gave another bounce as they entered the valley, causing a panic to spread through the herds of dinosaurs. With loud bellows, the huge herbivores scattered slamming into each other and grazing the truck in their panic. Gaz felt his body sway and tilt over the edge. The world spun. Scaly bodies and the truck mixed in a blur of colors and shapes. Another weight followed him. Gaz knew this was very, very bad.

The last thing Ghost saw when he looked in the side mirror was Gaz’s boots disappearing from the bed of the truck and the Shadow following after. His blood went cold and for a dark moment, he hoped the fall snapped Gaz’s neck so he didn’t have to feel being eaten alive by the raptors. Ghost could still hear the screams of a corporal as he was eaten by a bear from a mission long ago. It’s something you never forget. And he hoped to never hear it again.

Price cursed seeing one of his sergeants fall from the bed of the truck but there was nothing he could do. He turned the truck sharply to the left, slamming into one of the raptors. The animal snarled and snapped but kept its distance for now. Ghost went to lean out the window and barely missed the snapping jaws of a waiting raptor. They could hear Soap yelling for Gaz and the sound of gunfire. 

Soap watched in horror as Gaz tumbled with their captive ass over tit. He needed to help him but there was nothing he could do. A morbid blessing was that only one raptor had broken off to turn back. The other three kept attacking the truck, trying to jump in the bed or snapping at the windows. Soap wanted to scream for Price to stop but if Price did then all of them wouldn’t stand a chance. Instead, Soap shot at the remaining raptors hoping to at least kill them and give Gaz a fighting chance.

Price sped up and Gaz slowly disappeared from Soap’s view, body quickly hidden among the stampeding herbivores and dust. The only hope was that Gaz would survive and they could all meet up or look for him once they were safe. 

The chaos around them made it hard to navigate properly but Price had good enough sense to stay away from the river. He had no idea how deep it was or if there even was a shallow part. So he aimed for the forest across the clearing and hoped their problem could be solved easier from the trees. A parasaur bellowed and rammed into them crushing the raptor between the metal frame and its bulk.

It tilted the truck but Price grinned viciously hearing a loud sharp cry from the raptor. It crumpled to the ground and did not get back up. Price watched as Soap shot another raptor and it slowed down, stopping by the side of the fallen raptor. Slowly the other raptor, the scarred one, also gave up the chase and returned to the others before disappearing into the long grass.

“Cap-”

“I know.” Price answered without looking back at Soap. He understood Soap’s desire to go back but Price had to think about the rest of his team first. Ghost helped guide him through the trees. Occasionally a parasaur would stroll alongside them as they looked up trying to find a good enough tree. Price didn’t like how quiet Soap had gotten. The man was normally very mouthy and a little hot tempered.

“A bit of blood loss is good for ‘im.” Ghost commented pointing in the direction of a tree. Price grinned as they parked underneath it. He stood watch as Ghost set up the rigging to hoist Soap up. Price watched from the corner of his eye as Ghost clambered up the tree with the ease of a leopard. For a big man Ghost was incredibly nimble. 

“Alright. Send him up.” Ghost called down. Price helped Soap into the harness and watched as the man did his best to sit right. He could just barely make out grunts from up in the tree. Price also swore he heard, ‘Puttin you on a fuckin diet.’ But he wasn't sure. Once Soap was secured into the tree, Price groaned as he made his way up. He would definitely feel all of this in the morning. 

“Sir, we need-”

“Once we’ve fixed you up, me and Ghost will go look for Garrick. But none sooner. I won’t be losing two men in one go.” Price said firmly. He would not budge on this. As much as he cared for Kyle, he had to think of them as a whole. 

“Careful, Lt. I’ve never done this before. Gotta treat me right my first time.” Soap snarked. Ghost used more force than necessary to pull the thread tight. 

“Not so good with vi-”

“Shut it.” Ghost barked. Soap quieted down and just watched as Ghost finished the stitches. It was rebandaged and his vest back in place in no time. Ghost was one of the better on the team at medical besides Gaz. Simply because others felt more comfortable around Gaz, even though Ghost had more skill in that area. 

“We’ll rest and make sure they’re not waiting for us.” 

Soap opened his mouth but closed it quickly when Price gave him a look. Price leaned back and watched as the dinosaurs a few yards below ambled around peacefully. It eased Price’s nerves some. But there was still a knot in his stomach and the image of Gaz’s body tumbling behind the truck made him sick. He knew Kyle was a capable man. Trusted him implicitly. If anyone could make it alone on this island it was Gaz.

Ghost rested next to Soap giving him his shoulder to lay on. Was softer than the tree. Soap’s labored breathing slowly changed its tempo to a smoother breathing. One of sleep and painfully relaxation. Ghost grunted and leaned further against the tree. It was dark underneath the trees despite the sun coming up. Could almost confuse it for dusk.

“We need to look for him.”

“We will.”

“He could-”

“I know. It’s why we’re resting.”

“He’s very capable. Knows a lot about the animals here. If anyone could make it, Kyle can.” Price smiled at Ghost’s words. They reflected his thoughts from earlier. It did not ease the sickness threatening to crawl up his throat.

“You get some rest. I’ll wake you in an hour.” Ghost grunted his reply and leaned his head back. Price watched the pair for a moment longer before turning away.

Price looked over to the small strip of the road he could see. Price didn’t have it in him to tell the others what he saw. Three of the four raptors were tearing something apart. He never prayed before but he did now.

Don’t let that be his sergeant.

[ursa9909]

Sammy Knows AU prt 2

The debriefing left her tired and jerky. Ronnie had checked in, and Sammy didn't miss the way the older woman's eyes saddened at seeing her. She wasn't the only one who believed in having a backup, but having to use one meant things were far worse than they'd've liked.

To bad the older woman couldn't stay on long, her new assigned partner was coming and well, it wouldn't be the first time they lost a possible lead, but well either the new recruit would be a friendly face or could lead them to the web of collectors...

"I'm sorry" Brooklynn says quietly, eyes still glued to the screen. Sammy looks at her and wonders if the woman can see better out her peripherals with how often she uses that portion of sight.

Sammy raises a brow as she kicks off her boots. Her feet ache with sweet relief as they hit the cool wooden floor.

"Your neighbor"

Sammy sighs, "Carl"

She loved the man just as much as she hated him. It hurt surprisingly, or maybe not so much, she had know the man since she was born. He was always gruff and had a chip on his shoulder, but he was a neighbor that would help even if he was bellyaching' the entire time.

Sammy sighed again, eyes tearing up at the thought of the old bastard, he really was a pain in the ass but he was the one who'd help her father and teach her sisters how to shoot.

Despite his real hatred for the dinosaurs, he wouldn't hurt her or her kin. His death only makes the bittersweet taste in the back of her mouth grow sharper.

He was apart of their little group, had overheard one night and stayed to watch over her when her mind was essentially poked and prodded into the right configuration where she could help at a moments notice once the neural pathways were reactivated.

She wondered if that's what Carl was about to do before the weird raptor lady got to him first. Ronnie did say he tried to make contact with her...

Sammy clears her throat of the emotion, Carl would be another thing to clean up when they were done. She wonders how the news would spread through the town, with one neighbor dead on another's property, the one with the crazy dino loving woman who was one of the lost kids...oh, the gossip that will start. And fuck, if she lives she might actually hear from her family again if they find out what happened.

She sighs again and takes the offered coffee Brooklynn gives her, Sammy's honestly surprised her friend hasn't collapsed from an overdose of caffeine.

Her arm jerks with it's own mind and she hisses as knuckles split against the corner wall next to where she's sitting, the scalding coffee stinging just as much.

Brooklynn is up in a second, the one good hand helping to press with Sammy's other to keep the appendage from launching itself at something else.

When the tremors still, Sammy cleans the little ottoman as Brooklynn starts taking out the first aid.

They're quiet as Brooklynn works, the only occasional vocalizations being about what Brooklynn needs Sammy to do with her extra fingers.

Her friend pats her shoulder, "all better"

That pulls a sharp depressive laugh from Sammy. Both knew it was far from the truth but when you're as broken as them even breathing seems like a feat.

Sammy doesn't fight Brooklynn as the younger woman shadows her to the bed, it's small and will be cramped if Brooklynn ever decides to sleep, but it's home for now.

She groans as she falls on top of the covers, she'll shower later right now she just needs to rest.

"Anything else?" Brooklynn says, not unkindly but her nose back in a screen.

"A million dollars" Sammy hums past a painful clench of a calf muscle, thankfully it doesn't seem like another fit about to happen.

She hopes none of this will be permanent.

"Goodnight" Brooklynn says, her soft padding disappearing almost immediately.

Sammy stares at the ceiling and whispers to herself what she wishes to see again and tries not to think of the looks of horror she received at the last moments with the others.

[fyeahwebnovels]

COMPLETED

Webnovels on this list are officially finished (the author has confirmed the story is wrapped up and there are no plans to continue).

Anathema by chrysalis (superhero, sci-fi)

Two years ago, The Pulse—a sudden shift in Earth’s electromagnetic field—caused a global blackout and wiped a minute from mankind’s collective memory. This event introduced superhuman powers to our world. But the worst was yet to come. Now two teenagers are caught in the chaos of a changing world: Christina Chung, an antisocial misfit whose force fields are fueled by the social bonds she broke during the event of her transition. Former coke addict Sarina Baumann, whose reality-altering power forces her to abandon everything she holds dear. The two girls find themselves entangled with the renegade hero Radiant and the authorities that made him. The three must find a way—and a place—to be the heroes they’re destined to become. But sometimes, even the heroes fall…

Caelum Lex by khronos (space opera, sci-fi)

It’s a trying time in the central clusters of the galaxy. A shadow organization of powerful figures are tightening their grip to seize control, free planets are struggling to maintain their independence, and Leta Adler somehow ended up on a pirate ship. This is Caelum Lex, a sci-fi space opera following the crew of the Dionysian (the irony of the name is not lost on any of them) and its mission to stay afloat in a Span ever more trying to shoot it down. Join Leta, a not-so-sheltered-anymore doctor with a mission of her own, the captain she can’t stop butting heads with, his engineering genius of a brother, and the whole crew as they traverse the trials and tribulations of the universe, the mysterious Society, and each other.

Domina Urbana by DeathIsSilver (supernatural, urban fantasy)

Domina City. “The City of the Lady.” Built on a trash island in the West Atlantic by the labor of white-collar criminals, paid for by the United States and the Vatican, Domina was meant to be a beacon of hope and prosperity. A test, proving that criminals could be put to a better use than clogging up prisons. Thirty years after building started, Domina is a blight on the face of the world, soaked in the blood of millions. Death is a fact of daily life. Gangs rule by no other than law their own strength, and entire cultures have arisen built on legends. Angels, demons, vampires and more fight each other for money and control. The fey release their monsters on the streets for no reason other than their own amusement, and bystanders are always caught in the crossfire. Every living soul in the city is a killer. But even so, life goes on. People go to work, fall in love, raise families. The city grinds away, and the people survive. Into this maelstrom of chaos comes Adam Anders, a young man trying to go to college with his friend. He has no idea what he has just stepped into. But then, Domina is in for a few surprises as well…

The Dream Quest of Henry Sinclair by Tony Maravilla

The year is 199W and Henry Sinclair is a young magic practitioner on the cusp of entering high school. Before he goes, he must undergo a quest, a coming of age journey to be seen in the eyes of his witch clan. He will journey into the Dreamlands, a world less real than his own, where he will meet fictional characters come to life, Dream Lords, djinni, dinosaurs, and his own dark reflection. Will he make it back home unscathed?

Familiar Thing by Den Page (romance, urban fantasy, queer)

Quentin thought that that thing where you write on skin and recite a litany was just a weird thing nobody but him and his abusive ex liked. Now it turns out that there’s a whole community, and that he can channel power for actual magic. He manages to find Henry, a magic partner that shares his interest in nonsexual magic - but of course then Quentin starts falling for him…

The Five Dollar Mail by Regina F. Shelley (historical romance, adventure)

Five dollars to mail a letter seems like a lot of money to shy farm girl Lily McMillian. And when she's hired in the spring of 1860 by Old Man Lynch as a cook for his stagecoach and Pony Express station, she finds out why it's so expensive. Dropped into a whirlwind of rowdy men and boys, fast horses, and frightening conflict, she inherits more than a busy kitchen and a pile of dirty laundry. She gains an unlikely band of brothers, a motley collection of rounders, miscreants, and troublemakers, all of whom are in sore need of someone to keep them in line.

The Last Skull by The Great Hippo (superhero)

The Last Skull is a teenage superheroine fantasy mixed with what I hope is a realistic (but still comic-rooted) touch. I started writing it out of a mixture of love for the genre, a desire to see a muscular, wolverine-esque teenage girl beating the snot out of costumed supervillains, and a burning need to write something, anything before I went mad.

Magicacademy by MusedMoose (fantasy, slice of life)

Arts Magika University: sorcery classes, elven professors, dwarven fraternities, interspecies dating, and magikal duels. It's odd, it's mildly bizarre, and it's a wonder the students get any studying done. It's college the way it should have been.

Pact by Wildbow (supernatural, drama)

Blake Thorburn was driven away from home and family by a vicious fight over inheritance, returning only for a deathbed visit with the grandmother who set it in motion. Blake soon finds himself next in line to inherit the property, a trove of dark supernatural knowledge, and the many enemies his grandmother left behind her in the small town of Jacob’s Bell.

A Practical Guide to Evil by erraticerrata (YA, fantasy, dramedy)

The Empire stands triumphant. For twenty years the Dread Empress has ruled over the lands that were once the Kingdom of Callow, but behind the scenes of this dawning golden age threats to the crown are rising. The nobles of the Wasteland, denied the power they crave, weave their plots behind pleasant smiles. In the north the Forever King eyes the ever-expanding borders of the Empire and ponders war. The greatest danger lies to the west, where the First Prince of Procer has finally claimed her throne: her people sundered, she wonders if a crusade might not be the way to secure her reign. Yet none of this matters, for in the heart of the conquered lands the most dangerous man alive sat across an orphan girl and offered her a knife. Her name is Catherine Foundling, and she has a plan.

Symbiote by farmerbob1 (sci fi, speculative)

It’s something of an exploration into human/machine singularity or transhumanism. I explore my own ideas about how a moderately-educated individual would react to sharing a body and headspace with an advanced AI, and how they might grow together.

A Traveling Mage's Almanac by Loaka of the Wind (fantasy, adventure, furry)

Yenna Bookbinder loves learning magic. As a teacher of the Arcane, she has helped countless students to become mages—yet the world outside her classroom beckons to her. When a band of adventurers comes through town as part of a grand expedition to parts unknown, she finds herself offered a position on the crew as the party’s mage. Leaving behind her old life for exciting days on the road, Yenna travels with new allies to uncover all manner of magical mysteries. Between uneasy alliances, ancient dark magic and a plot that threatens to swallow the expedition whole, Yenna Bookbinder’s discoveries may shape the future of magic irrevocably—but will she live to see her findings published?

Twig by Wildbow (historical, fantasy, speculative)

The year is 1921, and a little over a century has passed since a great mind unraveled the underpinnings of life itself.  Every week, it seems, the papers announce great advances, solving the riddle of immortality, successfully reviving the dead, the cloning of living beings, or blending of two animals into one.  For those on the ground, every week brings new mutterings of work taken by ‘stitched’ men of patchwork flesh that do not need to sleep, or more fearful glances as they have to step off the sidewalks to make room for great laboratory-grown beasts.  Often felt but rarely voiced is the notion that events are already spiraling out of the control of the academies that teach these things. It is only this generation, they say, that the youth and children are able to take the mad changes in stride, accepting it all as a part of day to day life.  Of those children, a small group of strange youths from the Lambsbridge Orphanage stand out, taking a more direct hand in events.

Twisted Cogs by Malcom Hemmings (superhero, historical, fantasy)

It is the turn of the 16th Century, and the world has entered a golden age of art, invention, and architecture. This renaissance of literature and learning in Europa is suddenly thrown into overdrive when a chosen few “Stormtouched” begin displaying supernatural abilities. Torn between the age’s burgeoning love of science and the dark promises of magic, Europa has become a powder-keg of clockwork and sorcery. Elena Lucciano doesn’t care about increasing mankind’s knowledge or exploring the mysterious workings of magic. Even though she herself is Stormtouched, Elena doesn’t have high ambitions. All she wants is for her mother to be proud of her, for her teacher to accept her, and to become one of the best artists in all of Italoza, content to ignore all thoughts of science and magic. Unfortunately for Elena, the tides of invention and magic are sometimes not content to ignore those who ignore them…

An Unauthorized Fan Treatise by Lauren James (mystery, crime)

Gottie is a fangirl for Loch & Ness, a TV show about paranormal detectives. She’s convinced that two of the male actors are secretly dating, and she’ll stop at nothing to prove it. When her online investigations accidentally uncover far more than she expects, she becomes complicit in secrets beyond just a romantic conspiracy theory. An internet thriller told in a ‘true crime’ style recollection of events, the novel includes social media extracts such as modern Tumblr posts and early-noughties LiveJournal blog entries.

World Domination in Retrospect by Psycho Gecko (superhero, dark comedy)

Tell me something… do you root for the bad guy? Is an evil laugh a work of art for you? Do masks count as casual wear? Do you enjoy beating PETA members to death with baby cows? Do you have trouble fitting both testicles in your thong? Do you sometimes find yourself using the phrase “quake in buttery fear”? If you answered yes to any of those, this might be the place for you. Except for the thong thing which could be dangerous if people start writing Dr. Seuss erotica. This is still the place for you, but I can provide little relief for you from this dimension. Yeah, another dimension. Lucky you. A dimension of sight. A dimension of sound. A dimension of smells. Bad smells. Freaky smells. Anal smells. Smells you don’t have to sniff because you’re not here, man! Luckily for you, I, the Great and Devious Psycho Gecko, have acquired a device allowing me to share my adopted dimension with you. Let my eyes be your eyes. My ears be your ears. My fists be your fists. My sphincter be your sphincter. Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your rears! Now sit them right down in that chair every Wednesday and Sunday and enjoy a trip through life with an unrepentant, murderous supervillain. You were expecting a heroic figure forced down a dark path, fighting to be a good man despite society forcing him into evil acts? Well cut that shit out right now. Tie up your kiddies in the other room and hold on to your sphincters. It’s time for World Domination in Retrospect!

Worm by Wildbow (superhero, drama)

An introverted teenage girl with an unconventional superpower, Taylor goes out in costume to find escape from a deeply unhappy and frustrated civilian life. Her first attempt at taking down a supervillain sees her mistaken for one, thrusting her into the midst of the local ‘cape’ scene’s politics, unwritten rules, and ambiguous morals. As she risks life and limb, Taylor faces the dilemma of having to do the wrong things for the right reasons.

[tmnt-obsessed-ace]

I was about to ask about the Hamato Ninpo thing, if they would have it or not, but someone else already asked, lol.

Nice to know the kids (and Leonardo too?) will get their Hamato Ninpo, even though u being u, is going to make it harder for them to get it (curious to see how you do this).

Also, poor Leo, trying to raise and teach and protect his kids the best he can, but not teaching them their Ninpo, because he legit had no idea it existed.

Also, lol at Leo bluescreening that the person he thought was Karai (which honestly, I can see why he would think that very much), was actually Casey, and Gram-Gram is Karai (which, to be fair, if he had meant her before Casey, he might have put two to two together that Casey wasn't Karai, but Gram Gram was) instead.

I love, LOVE ur Future Leo look/design so far btw! I love seeing more future leos (Rise, 2012, 2003, etc.) and ones of the other boys too! I think ur design for a older 2012 Leo is one of my favorites so far that I have seen.

I also love this new AU of urs (another AU of urs that I love very much to add to the tab), sad, older, trying his best, tired, single father/mother of 4 (5, counting April) hell children /affectionate.

It makes so sad though, Leo has been apart from his first family for over a decade, but for the rest of his family, it has only been months for them. The poor dude.

Okay, now that I have said that, I have a couple (more) questions:

This is from an answer to an ask that I have actually already talked about in this ask, and I will talk about more here:

"The colored dots represent Leonardo's previous family. (In order Raph, Donnie, Mikey, Splinter, April and Casey.) Its a way to keep his old family close to him even when they're apart."

I love the idea of Leo having colored-items in honor of Leo's previous family (him having ones for his brothers, Casey, April, and Splinter. Ahhh, I love it). It is so sweet and sad. Though, I was just ging to ask about Karai here? Since Leo does really care about her too, and they are siblings? So maybe Leo might have something for her too?

"And the flower is a very pitiful very sad rendition of the 2012 Hamato Clan symbol

"Its supposed to look like this"

Ohhhh, interesting and cool.

My other question, and this is kind of a question that could maybe be directed towards other AUs of urs besides ur 2012 Leo raises the Rise kiddos (and gets Draxum ooze on him too; which is interesting), that being, and this stems from my love of Gram Gram Karai (and Karai in general), but do u think u might include some of that Karai and family bonding time cut content? Because like, Karai's death already heart-broke me (and Rise Leo too), but I could (and 2012 and Rise Leo and Splinter and everyone else too) be even more heart-broken. Also, I just want more of Gram Gram Karai and Karai with everyone else time. If you don't do this though, I totally get it!

Last thing, I am happy you are out of AO3 Jail and can publish and do stuff with AO3 again!

Thanks for the new SOTW update, and excited to see those other updates u have been talking about, whenever u can!!

I knew I forgot somebody and it was Karai. :/

In the final version of the ref sheet I'll include something for 2012 Karai. And I'll definitely include more Gram Gram time because we love gran gram in this house even though Nick cut off Rise before we got actual Gram Gram time.

Gram Gram's death will be fucking devastating for Leonardo. Because he got portal napped when Karai was assumed to be lost after Splinter killed the brain worm. (Ie. he disappeared the morning of Dinosaur Seen In Sewers, which means when Raphael encounters Zog it was because he was looking for Leonardo.) so in his mind this is the second time he failed Karai. The second time he cost her everything.

And it absolutely devastates him. Once the Shredder battle is over and everyone's resting he's gonna have a massive breakdown. :)

[a-student-out-of-time]

Yeah...I guess a lot of it does make sense.

__________________________________________________

I figured, if you were looking for alternatives, you’d want to ask their ancestors for advice.

Of course...there are details about everyone’s lives that don’t play out how we’d wish. I’ll get to that.

What’s interesting to me isn’t just the fact that everyone in Season 53 is related to you and the others. It’s the fact that, as we were talking about before, the fake personalities they gave everyone seem like they were meant as deliberate insults toward their families.

_____________________________________________________

Yeah...how, exactly?

____________________________________________________

“Akamatsu Kaede- or rather, Erika with altered memories- was presented as an ideal; a heroic, friendly, outspoken leader. She was trying to be the one who carried everyone forward and rally them together...only for it to come crashing down and for her to be executed first.”

“Saihara Shuichi was a soft-spoken, withdrawn detective who hated his talent, but who was meant to be serve as the everyman. The person to whom the audience was meant to relate, with two close friends and with a dead girlfriend to serve as his inspiration.”

“Momota Kaito, my grandson, was also presented as this inspiring figure, the best friend who would never give up on anyone. Someone who Saihara could look up to. But he was also deliberately infected with a lethal disease, and was slowly dying throughout the game.”

“Harukawa Maki was made into an orphan who was taken in by the Holy Salvation Society, and turned into a killing machine. Cold, aloof, borderline heartless, with nothing to return to. But of course, her world is made brighter thanks to her love for Kaito.”

“Tojo Kirumi, who became this seemingly unflappable, hyper-competent maid. Someone who was able to accomplish any task, to the point that, when it seemed Japan was facing a crisis, she was made the de facto Prime Minister. A motive that drove her to commit murder in a utilitarian mindset, but all in vain”

“Hoshi Ryoma, who was made into a death row inmate. A young man who’d crossed paths with the yakuza, who murdered his family and his lover, and who in turn slaughtered them all with a steel tennis ball. Someone who felt he had nothing to live for, and just when he found a new sense of hope, it was taken from him.”

“Yonaga Angie, turned into a religious fanatic who attempted to form a cult within the academy and force everyone to reject escape. Disturbingly cheerful, from a mysterious island with inexplicable customs and practices, including brainwashing, blood sacrifices and orgies.”

“Chabashira Tenko, made into an aggressively volatile misandrist, one who was obsessed with Yumeno Himiko, and who actively hated and insulted men at every opportunity. Not to mention she didn’t even practice a real form of Aikido, but some nonsensical version, which felt like the setup for a bad punchline.”

“Shinguji Korekiyo, an anthropologist on the surface, but twisted into some delusional serial killer who believed that he had a personal mission to send his dead sister- whom he was involved with- 100 friends. One he set out to accomplish by murdering women, including Yonaga and Chabashira.”

“Iruma Miu, a genius inventor whose tools contributed to ending the game, but also arrogant, aggressive, brash, hypersexualized and yet quite cowardly when anyone stands up to her. So much of her dialogue was vulgar insults and sexualized comments that it’s impossible to keep track.”

“Gokuhara Gonta. A kind-hearted man who was clearly more intelligent than he let on, but who was made into something of a simple-minded fool. Their explanation was that he’d be raised in the woods for 10 years by dinosaur people, which...need I say more?”

“Ouma Kokichi, turned into a self-confessed villainous mastermind. Someone who seemingly had the skills necessary to manipulate and out-think everyone, and who used them for his own amusement or to sow discord in the game. And nothing he said could be trusted, given how often he lied about everything.”

“And K1B0, who was repurposed to become the eyes and ears of the audience. A means for them to interact with the story directly and make decisions of their own. One that ultimately meant very little, given that he was simply a tool for Shirogane and Team Danganronpa. Still, had it not been for him, the survivors likely wouldn’t have escaped.”

In different ways, I can’t help but feel that these personalities were all meant to be shots taken at their ancestors, like you and me.

____________________________________________________

This woman’s petty as hell, isn’t she?

____________________________________________________ 

Yes, but that’s the strange thing: why Omigawa, Amami and Yumeno? What do they have to do with this?

And what reasons would Shirogane have for targeting the descendants of people like Ouma Kasumi and Yonaga Mio? They had nothing to do with your missions.

I feel that she overplayed her hand with this. There may be context clues for to figure out why they were included.

[aouiaa]

the way i encourage this faggot to finish this. hehe, you’re welcome, guys. i still have to finish reading “maneater” which again you all should read. (i promise i’ll have the post ready someday, babe. 😿)

i genuinely love the lovesick trope, am i crazy? (don’t answer that) this author genuinely leaves me in awe, her work is amazing and i’m not just saying that because she’s amazing. no, it comes from a place of full honesty and love. :3

During lunchtime, she would eat the dino nuggets that her dad had meticulously prepared for her while sitting alone at the lunch table (being picky about food, she only ever had dino nuggets and was firmly convinced that regular nuggets did not taste as good).

what a cutie pootie. i do firmly believe she is this picky. shes the type to play with her dinosaur nuggets, making them fight and whoever loses gets eaten. 😭

Ever since you helped Ellie pick up the pencils she had accidentally dropped, she couldn’t help but notice your gentle and soft smile, and from that moment on, she found herself unable to take her eyes off you.

the gay awakening..

They kept teasing you, insinuating that you were more than just best friends. You were always around each other and touchy in ways that made them suspect that you were girlfriends. They noticed how you frequently held hands, hugged, and even kissed each other on the cheek.

us.

“Did she, or did I?” you giggled. Cat took a small step back, suddenly feeling creeped out by the way you were looking at her, almost as if you were planning to hurt her.

chat, is this a beta turning into alpha moment, or what?

Your best friend took the leap first, joining the soccer team, eager to break out of the monotony and possibly make new friends. She thrived there, quickly falling in love with the game’s intensity and the adrenaline that came with it.

stopppp, this is reminding me of the picture with joel and sarah…. in another universe, man. 😞

“Might have to kill half the school just for you,” She suddenly joked with a grin.

and she will!

“You’re doing great, beautiful,”

never beating the dating allegations (again, us..)

The drawing portrayed Amanda in a rather disturbing manner, physically harmed with a knife in her chest. The details of the drawing were quite graphic, and you could tell she had put a lot of effort and passion into it.

idk why i’m imagining this bc ellie is a good artist, but i’m picturing a little stick figure on the ground and the knife in its chest with the x’s for eyes and a horizontal “p” for the mouth.

“The bitch’s allergic to almonds,” Your eyes were fixed on Amanda, who was laughing with her friend. Ellie raised her brows at you, an amused smile appearing on her lips.

sealed her fate. lil bru is a goner LAUGHING OUT LOUD GUYS!!

“No blood, no traces, it’d be harder to get caught,” you explained, proving your point. It was logical and more calculative than her hypothesis.

“True but stabbing her to death seems funnier, I dunno.” She inhaled deeply, leaning back into her bench, her back pressed on the benches behind her. “Hearing them beg for mercy, scream in pain, and the look in their eyes…”

emanuela istg if it’s like “happy together.” (which everyone should go read, uhm!)

The girl who was grinding on you at Daniel’s party? Found dead the morning after.

OH MY GOD BYE the fact i asked you if ellie murders people for the reader and you said who knows. i’m so sigma for guessing it correctly. (i’m sorry… not really.)

Ellie took the bold step of enrolling in the same college as you. She even went as far as to choose the same major─Psychology─just to be in the same classes as you, ensuring that you both had the same schedule, did the same assignments, and even hung out with the same people. 

joe goldberg ahh mf

“I meant for Halloween parties. Last year, you were that damn sexy nurse. This year, it’s a tight dress. What’s next? A slutty bunny?”

ugh, ellie! you don’t get it! because in girl world—

Ellie let out a low chuckle from the doorway, fingers tapping lazily on the frame. “You’re gonna make me want to commit murder tonight,” she joked, eyes flicking over you as you leaned in closer to the mirror.

sigh… and she will.

Her breath hitched as you inched closer before coming to a halt. You smirked, tipping your head to the side. “Can I be your helpless victim?” you teased, catching her off guard with the unexpected line. Ellie’s face contorted into one of confused disbelief, and before you could hold it back, laughter escaped you at her expression.

YOU FAGGOT—i mean. you were edging us here.

“Looked more like she wanted to fuck you right there in front of everyone—in front of me.” She cast a glance back at the party, the girl long gone already. “Besides,” she added, “—you have me. I don’t see why you need her.” There was an ache in her tone as if she felt betrayed by your actions, a hidden desperation she was trying to keep under wraps. Couldn’t you see? She was right there, ready to be everything you needed, the one person who knew you better than anyone else.

was it causal when she killed for you? :,(

“You’re all I have.” As she spoke again, her eyes, which had been stern, took on a gentler expression, and you could sense vulnerability in her voice, suddenly yearning for ‘reassurance’. “I’m sorry for being rough. It’s just… seeing anyone else with you just… fuck, I don’t know why it pisses me off so much.” 

fag—i mean. gay—i mean. lesbian—I MEAN!

She knew it wasn’t normal to be so possessive of your best friend, no one acted this way toward their friends. So what was she supposed to do? Lock you up in a glass cage and never let you go?

would you guys believe me when i said emanuela has told me she would lock me in a glass cage (joe goldberg style) or no?

“Oh, what a shame,” she’d murmur, not a hint of genuine sympathy in her tone. 

“Guess this is what happens when you hoe around,” she’d remark, her voice steady, an almost imperceptible smirk ghosting her lips.

“Hm… sucks. ‘s not even her best picture,” she’d add, a detached sort of amusement glinting in her eyes.

BYE ELLIE DONT GIVE A FUCK 😭

“Told you he wasn’t the one for you, baby girl.” 

this, alone, impregnated me.

“Y’know, you were my gay awakening,”

CALLED IT.

“Hmmm-mmmh,” she hummed lazily in response, sounding almost like a low purr in your ear. Her hand rested on your bare thigh, squeezing gently, her touch delicate but firm. Heat pooled in your stomach almost instantly. “Always thinking of you when I touch myself.”

an average conversation between us. :3

and to answer her silent dilemma, yes, you were doing it on purpose. 

too real.

“What? Gonna kill me now?” you breathed, your words almost taunting, a faint smirk pulling at your lips as her eyes narrowed.

She tilted the knife against your throat but still put no pressure. You felt yourself leaning into it, letting the thrill course through you and that familiar excitement growing in your tummy. “Gonna make me?” she whispered

what is this faggotory?

The more she went on and on about the macabre details, the more it turned you on. She was taken aback by your enthusiasm and curiosity, the specific questions flowing from your lips with an unsettling calm that she struggled to comprehend. It was almost as if you were savoring every twisted word that came from her. She couldn’t wrap her head around how her dark confessions had led to this moment

a match made in hell, yall.

She’d killed for you, it was the least you could do. So, was romance really dead?

it’s easy to find a person who would die for you, but to kill for you? they just don’t make them like that anymore. *sad winky face*

“You’re not stupid enough to think I’d let you go so easily, right?” she repeated your earlier words, her voice low and dangerous as she lowered herself over you, your sweaty bodies pressing together. “Didn’t you wanna be my helpless victim, babe?”

HEHEHE

“But yeah, if you leave me I’m gonna tell on you.”

this is their new foreplay fr

“W-why…?” you choked on your own blood, the words barely audible but with the stillness of the room, they seemed to echo louder. 

HUH?!

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Allison screamed, her voice laced with disbelief, her eyes wide as she took a shaky step back.

my reaction fr bc what?!

Trying new things had definitely been the right move, and Ellie didn’t regret it for a second, because you were practically glowing. For the first time, you felt truly alive. It hit you then, just how much emptiness you’d been carrying all these years, how you’d learned to live with that hollow feeling. But this? This made you feel whole. Euphoric. Alive in every possible way.

cute little date idea!

“We’ve only watched the first Scream movie a hundred times together,”

“I only watched it because you were obsessed with it and I thought you were cute,”

AHHHHH YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE DELLIE!!! i love the reference :3

Her lips brushed against your ear, voice low and teasing. “You know what I'm really in the mood for?” Her hand slipped lower and lower until it was resting on your plush ass, giving it a suggestive squeeze.

You chuckled, pretending to think. “Pizza?”She let out a soft laugh.

“I was gonna say you, but…” She gave you that crooked, lopsided smile, shrugging playfully.

You snorted, “Oh, well, that too. I just didn’t know killing works up your appetite.”

oh to be happy and in love with a woman :(

Maybe she was right. You felt it deep down, a truth that clung to you. A match made in hell. And as long as you had her, you’d be more than fine

emanuela were so interlinked omg!!!! let’s touch each other (text me *kissy face* *kissy face*)

❝𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝚰𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐃𝚰𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑.❞

ghostface!bestfriend!ellie ✗ fem reader

❝𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝚰 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔.❞

⚠︎︎︎.ᐟ ⌞warnings ⊹ cw⌝ ﹕ approx 20k words. (ik im sorry im always yapping too much.) headcanons!! mention of blood/murders, drugs usage. childhoodbestfriend!𝑒, perv!𝑒, ghostface!𝑒, switch!𝑒, v light knife play (𝑒!receiving+giving), handcuffing ghostface😊, oral/fingering, strap-on sex (r!receiving), extremely jealous/obsessive!𝑒, ellie gets off to eepy reader and they get off together on the couch yummyy... i think that's it?? ps ignore that ugly ass edited pic pls😭

.ᐟ.ᐟ ⌞author's note⌝ ﹕ this isn't like the movies, it's a 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 story. proofread by @sapphichotmess!!

#.ᐟ ⌞taglist⌝ ﹕ @aouiaa @kaykeryyy @whoucallingalesbian @taylormarieee @co0kiemuncher @myathegoat @joordynn @iamhellagae @hearts444olivia @ion-news @broskideedle13 @ladyofcain @cheyisagirlkisser

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

˳·˖𖤐 During her childhood, Ellie had a stern and intimidating demeanor that unintentionally scared other kids away. They’d be too scared to approach her, let alone play or talk with her, which left her in solitude most of the time. She got used to playing by herself and spent her recess in the corner of the playground. During lunchtime, she would eat the dino nuggets that her dad had meticulously prepared for her while sitting alone at the lunch table (being picky about food, she only ever had dino nuggets and was firmly convinced that regular nuggets did not taste as good). She seemed to find solace in drawing and would spend hours sketching in her green notebook, lost in her world of imagination.

˳·˖𖤐 Maybe, just maybe, the kids’ fear toward Ellie wasn’t unmotivated. She loved to cause chaos and conflicts among the other kids. She would start small fights, encourage others to fight, push kids off swings, or even break their toys. Even more concerning was that she seemed to get a kick out of other people’s misery and would laugh at their distress and discomfort, which was why many feared and avoided being near her.

˳·˖𖤐 Joel would often find himself rushing to his daughter’s school, trying his best to convince the school officials that his sweet little girl could never do anything to hurt other kids. Despite being smart and quiet, Ellie would sometimes find herself in trouble for things she claimed she didn’t do. She always stood her ground, insisting that if she ever did start something, it was only because another child had done something to her first. And, of course, her father always believed her and would go to great lengths to defend his baby girl.

Once, Joel was called to the principal’s office. When he entered the room, he saw the principal sitting behind his desk, looking stern and serious. Joel's heart sank, he could sense something was off. “My daughter would n—” Joel tried to speak, but the principal cut him off without missing a beat. “The teacher saw her. She pushed Jason off the swing and kicked him,” the principal stated, his tone firm and authoritative. Joel's eyes immediately darted to his sweet little angel, who was crying and pouting, giving him doe eyes as she shook her head to dismiss all the accusations. “No, Dad, I didn’t, I swear. He hit me first,” she said, trying to defend herself. “Heard what she said? She didn’t do it.” Joel always fell for that little dotted face. He would still stand by his beliefs no matter what the teachers or other kids' parents said. His baby girl would never hurt anyone. He couldn’t imagine her doing anything wrong.

˳·˖𖤐 You were never really scared of her—the quiet, introverted girl. In fact, you were quite intrigued by her. She always seemed to be the odd one out, sitting in the corner of the classroom or standing far away across the playground, watching everything and everyone so intently. What really fascinated you about her was her attention to detail. She never missed a thing and could remember every single detail of everything, almost like she had a photographic memory or something. 

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie was fascinated with you. Ever since you helped Ellie pick up the pencils she had accidentally dropped, she couldn’t help but notice your gentle and soft smile, and from that moment on, she found herself unable to take her eyes off you. She’d just sit across the room, sipping on her apple juice box as she studied you curiously. To her, you were a delicate and pretty little girl, reminding her of a flower. She had always thought other kids weren’t as bright as her and weren’t good enough to be her friends, which led her to isolate herself from others. She thought of herself as better than everyone her age, and it was also why she would beat them up, finding them too stupid to put up with. But you were different. There was something about you that stood out to her, something that her childish brain couldn’t quite put a finger on. It wasn’t just your kindness, although that certainly played a big part in it. There was something more that made her feel like she wanted to be your friend, your close friend.

˳·˖𖤐 Even as a little kid, Ellie had always been a strategic and calculated person.

One day, she saw you playing in the sandbox and felt the urge to approach you, but she needed an excuse to do so. So, she concocted a plan. She told another kid that you had said something mean about him, knowing that he would confront you about it—Jason was a little of a troublemaker from what she noticed, so she was certain it would work. In fact, when the little boy confronted you, and you denied it, he quickly became angry and pushed you, causing you to fall into the sand. The sand got all over your beautiful frilly clothes, making you feel embarrassed and upset, your bottom lip wobbling. Ellie saw this as her chance to approach you and comfort you. She walked over to you and pushed the other kid, causing him to storm off. She quickly helped you up and offered you a slight smile, “You can’t let other kids treat you like that.” You nodded in agreement, grateful for her help, and threw yourself in her arms, hugging her tightly. “Thank you so much,” you uttered. She nodded and squeezed you, rubbing your back. “Maybe we can watch each other’s back from now on,” she suggested with a shy smile, the one that always fooled her dad as well. You were beyond ecstatic at her offer. You had long admired her from afar, and the idea of being friends with her was something you had dreamed of for a long time, but your shy nature had always caused you to keep to yourself. Even to you, she seemed smarter compared to other kids. “Can you be my friend?” you asked with a toothless grin on your face, batting your lashes at her. “Yes, I would love to,” followed by “Can I show you my dinosaur collection?” From that day on, you and Ellie became close friends, and her strategic and protective nature was always there to help you when you needed it.

˳·˖𖤐 You and Ellie have been inseparable, going through all the ups and downs of school and puberty together. She has been a constant source of support, always by your side through your best and worst days. You have shared countless memories and experiences over the years, and she has always been a true friend in every sense of the word. She was always there to protect you and stood up for both of you in any situation. You did everything together—you laughed, cried, and confided in each other like you were the only two people in the world. You shared all your first-time experiences, like getting drunk for the first time, going to parties, and even sneaking out of your house at night just to see her or hang out. Her father quickly became like a second dad to you, someone you could look up to and trust. You have always felt like a part of their small family, spending time together, sharing meals, and celebrating holidays with them. Your friendship has only grown stronger over the years.

˳·˖𖤐 During middle school, Ellie’s behavior remained consistent. Even in the new environment, she continued to find ways to get herself in trouble. She had a habit of talking back to teachers, getting into physical fights with other students, and arguing with pretty much everyone, almost as if she couldn’t contain herself; causing trouble was second nature to her. It was evident that she found pleasure in disrupting the peace wherever she went, which often landed her in serious trouble. Not that she cared, of course.

“Miss Williams, get your shoes off the desk. You are not at home, and you cannot do as you please,” The middle-aged teacher, who appeared to be in her late fifties, scolded her with a stern voice, her eyes narrowing with disapproval as she spoke. Her wrinkled forehead was furrowed with a frown, and her thin lips pursed tightly together. The teacher’s glasses, once perched on the bridge of her nose earlier, now hung from a chain around her neck as she continued to chastise the auburnette.

With a mischievous smirk on her face, the copper-brown-haired girl replied, “You can bet your wrinkled ass I’ll do as I please,” causing the whole class to erupt in laughter.

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie couldn’t help but feel a surge of anger when Cassie, a girl from math class, called you stupid. You were her best friend, and she couldn't bear the thought of someone insulting you like that. She wouldn’t let anyone walk all over you. So, that same day, she approached Cassie after class with a fake calm demeanor and explained that her comments were hurtful and disrespectful. She initially tried to remain ‘polite’ to make you happy, but the situation quickly escalated to a physical fight. Unfortunately, this resulted in Cassie ending up in the nurses’ office with a broken bone. But she couldn’t help it. She had to look out for you, and Cassie fucking deserved it.

˳·˖𖤐 It was always just you and Ellie hanging out together. Other kids weren’t allowed to join you. Everyone in your school thought of you two as weirdos, but you didn’t care, both preferring each other’s company over anyone else’s.

˳·˖𖤐 You spent everyday together, either at her place or yours. Homework, video games, comics, and movie marathons filled your time, but the one thing that truly brought you together was your shared obsession with horror movies. You’d watch a new one each day, feeding off the adrenaline of jump scares and twisted plots. Ellie seemed to devour every film, but her favorites were always the slasher flicks—especially the Scream series. The thrill of being scared out of your mind became your thing. Soon, though, it wasn’t just the horror movies that captivated Ellie. She developed a deep fascination for true crime documentaries, and afternoons blurred into nights as the two of you sat in her room, binging tales of real-life terror, lost in your macabre little world together. You both would sit there, transfixed, eyes glued to the horror playing out on the screen, completely enthralled by the spine-tingling and mysterious events unfolding before you. The chilling stories on the screen drew you in, and your fascination with the morbid and the inexplicable would lead you to spend countless hours online reading creepypastas. 

˳·˖𖤐 You were each other’s first kiss.

One Friday night, you went to Cassie’s house for a small party—yes, the same Cassie that Ellie beat up and broke her arm. You guessed she had invited Ellie to get on her good side, considering their last fight. The poor girl was tired of fearing Ellie, but Ellie didn’t like her one bit and never would. Your best friend was reluctant at the idea of being surrounded by too many people, but you convinced her to go with you, saying it might’ve been fun to do something different for once. They kept teasing you, insinuating that you were more than just best friends. You were always around each other and touchy in ways that made them suspect that you were girlfriends. They noticed how you frequently held hands, hugged, and even kissed each other on the cheek. So, during a truth-or-dare game, they dared you to kiss your best friend. You looked over at Ellie, feeling shy and uncertain. You were waiting for her to say something to stop you from going along with the dare, but to your surprise, she didn’t. In fact, she had a small smile on her face, which made you feel more nervous for some reason. Feeling hesitant, you finally mustered up the courage to ask her, “Can I kiss you?” Your cheeks heated up as you spoke. The freckled girl rolled her eyes, trying to make you feel like you were being dramatic, “It’s just a game.” Finally, you leaned in and gave her a soft peck on the lips. Everyone in the room giggled and clapped their hands, but you couldn’t shake off the feeling that something had changed between you and Ellie, yet neither of you dared to acknowledge it.

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie had always been very open about her attraction to girls. She never cared about what other classmates might have thought about her preferences. Even though they were not always accepting, they never dared to say anything negative to her face, fearing Ellie’s reaction to their comments. She openly rejected guys who showed interest in her, saying that she was not interested because she was a lesbian. Always commenting about pretty girls—and man, if that didn’t make you jealous. You’d often feel this intense jealousy inside you every time she talked to other girls or whenever other girls would approach her, even if she always rejected them, 99,9% of the time.

˳·˖𖤐 Why 99,9% and not 100%? Well, because another girl named Cat entered the picture. From the very start, it was clear that Cat was head over heels for Ellie, and how could you blame her? She’d blush every time Ellie glanced her way, always laughing obnoxiously at your best friend’s puns, even when they were terrible—and that was, like, all the time. She would also go out of her way to shower her with small gifts, all of which Ellie would accept with a sly grin that you found infuriating. She’d get her snacks and pass her cute little notes during classes, and the worst part was that your friend began to reciprocate Cat’s feelings, and the two of them grew even closer. You tried to accept their ‘friendship’ but found it increasingly difficult; watching them together became too much to bear, and you knew you had to take care of it. You never liked sharing, not even as a kid, so why start now with the most important person to you?

As the lesson dragged on, you grew more restless, your thoughts tangled in a knot of anxiety. You needed to have a little chat with Cat. Urgently. Unable to focus any longer, you raised your hand, asking the teacher if you could go to the toilet. When he gave you a nod in response, you hurried out of the classroom, your pulse quickening as you slipped through the quiet hallways. Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out a small Post-it note, your fingers trembling slightly as you scrawled a quick message:

“Meet me in the bathroom after third period. — Ellie :)  ”

You carefully folded the note and slid it into Cat's locker, hoping she would see it soon. The next few hours felt like an eternity. You kept checking the clock, counting down the minutes until the third period. Finally, the bell rang, and you made your way to the bathroom, hoping Cat would be there. As you entered the bathroom, you saw her standing there with a big smile. The same smile that faded in an instant as she saw you instead of the girl she liked. You greeted her with a mischievous grin and asked her if she was waiting for Ellie. “Yeah, she told me to come here after third period,” the raven-haired girl responded, looking puzzled. “Did she, or did I?” you giggled. Cat took a small step back, suddenly feeling creeped out by the way you were looking at her, almost as if you were planning to hurt her. You had never started fights in school or caused any sort of trouble, though Cat feared you. Maybe it was the endless rude comments you threw her way at any chance you got or the little things you did when Ellie wasn’t watching to make her feel threatened. “Is this some sick joke?” surprise flashed across her features before a more terrorized look replaced it. “Stop seeing her, don’t come near her, stop talking to her, don’t even look her way,” you demanded. Your tone was firm, almost possessive, as you stepped closer. She backed away with each step you took. “Wha-” Cat tried to speak, but you cut her off. “I catch you lookin’ at her again, I won’t be as nice.” you threatened. “I won’t—I’ll stop talking to her,” she stammered nervously, her voice trembling. A few sniffles escaped her before she ran off, mumbling her sorrys on her way out. “I hope you mean it.” She was already out of the bathroom, but you were sure she had heard you loud and clear. And you weren’t even gonna feel bad. She deserved it. How dare she come near the most important person in your life? What was she planning to do? Take her away from you? You sure as hell weren’t gonna let that happen.

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie was struggling to understand why Cat had suddenly started ignoring her like a deadly disease. It was almost perplexing that the brunette wouldn’t even look at her, and whenever Ellie tried to approach her to talk, Cat would leave the conversation abruptly, only briefly glancing over at her. It was particularly puzzling to the redhead as she could not recall any misunderstanding or disagreement between them that could have caused such a drastic change in Cat’s attitude towards her—for once, she was nice to someone who wasn’t you, and this was the result? She felt confused and soon enough began to harass the girl, making sure her life was a living hell at school. How dare Cat ignore her? She wasn’t even that smart or pretty. Ellie only ever liked the attention she'd get from her; she was there just to boost her ego, and now she was ignoring her?

˳·˖𖤐 As you both entered high school, you remained inseparable, sticking to the shadows for the first few years, trying to blend in and avoid unwanted attention. Neither of you joined clubs or sports teams, preferring to keep to yourselves and steer clear of socializing. But by junior year, the routine started to feel stifling, and restlessness set in. You both realized you wanted more—something bigger than just being on the sidelines. Your best friend took the leap first, joining the soccer team, eager to break out of the monotony and possibly make new friends. She thrived there, quickly falling in love with the game’s intensity and the adrenaline that came with it. She never lost that sense of superiority, though—deep down, she believed she was different, better than the people around her. She stood out, and she knew it. You, on the other hand, joined the cheerleaders team. Dancing and performing had always been a passion, and it seemed like a perfect way to get involved. But as you spent time with other girls, you couldn’t help but notice how wrapped up they were in things that felt trivial to you—obsessed with popularity, looks, and gossip. It was hard to feel like you fit in, knowing damn well you didn’t. While your best friend thrived on her sense of superiority, you were left feeling like an outsider, trapped in a group you didn’t belong in.

˳·˖𖤐 Ever since you joined the cheerleading team, you stood out from the crowd. Your undeniable beauty did not go unnoticed, and soon enough, boys began to show interest in you. Every week, a different guy would try to catch your attention, hoping to ask you out or make a move on you. But Ellie was fiercely protective of you, claiming that none of these guys were good enough for you, whether it was a potential friend or partner. She would always find a way to scare them away, making it clear that you weren’t interested, always there reminding you that you were way too amazing for all of them and that no one could ever understand you like she did, even if they tried. She did not want anyone she deemed unworthy of your time to come close to you, and you liked it that way. To you, that was your definition of love.

“—so he just fell in front of the whole class, he couldn’t even-” You were interrupted by the sound of your name being called from across the room. Your best friend was out sick, missing all the juicy details, but before you could finish the story and turn to see who it was, the auburn-haired girl beside you spun around first. Her brows knit together almost instantly, and you could see the flicker of jealousy in her eyes. Her expression darkened as she processed the moment, clearly thrown off by the sudden attention directed your way. A kid you knew from theater class was walking toward you with a nervous smile, carefully holding a flower, making sure not to prick himself on the sharp thorns of the beautiful red rose. “Hey, I just wanted to ask you if-” He didn’t even need to finish his sentence—she was already prepared to go off on him as if he’d just insulted her entire family. In reality, he hadn’t even noticed a fuming Ellie standing right beside you. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, eyes locked on him with an intensity that made you sure if looks could kill, he’d already be dead. You opened your mouth to say something, but Ellie quickly raised her hand in front of you, silencing you instantly. She was going to handle this, just like always. “What makes you think she would ever go out with a loser like you?” Ellie hurled venomous words his way, leaving the poor guy stuttering and stumbling over his response. His face flushed bright red as if all the blood had rushed to his cheeks. He stood there, frozen in shock, his mouth hanging open like a fish gasping for air. His eyes darted nervously between you and the girl at your side, clearly unsure what to do next. He swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words to express himself, his expression desperate as if he was silently begging for a reaction from you, anything. But before he could even get a syllable out, Ellie cut him off again, shutting him down before he could speak. “Heard what I said? She is not interested,” she repeated, but this time, her voice was tinged with impatience. “I’m sorry, I just—take this.” He handed you the flower, looking utterly defeated. As soon as it was in your hands, he turned around and walked away hastily, like a puppy with its tail tucked between its legs. She watched the guy walk away, her leaf-hued eyes fixed on him, unwilling to let go of the sight. Her face was slightly scrunched up in annoyance, her mind clearly racing with thoughts as she seemed lost in her world. After a while, she finally tore her gaze away from him and glanced at you briefly as if snapping back to reality. She let out a small ‘tssssk’ under her breath, trying to collect herself and shake off the jealousy lingering in the pit of her stomach. “Jesus, El. You’re evil,” You let out a small giggle and brought your hand to your mouth to cover it up. “Might have to kill half the school just for you,” She suddenly joked with a grin. She snatched the rose out of your hand and threw it on the floor forcefully. Red petals scattered on the ground as you both continued walking. Ellie made sure to stomp on the flower. She always had a very dark humor, which sometimes left you wondering if she meant any of what she said. She always spoke in such a serious tone, but maybe it was just her sarcasm being that way. Her words were often laced with a hidden meaning, and she had a way of making you question your interpretations, but you laughed at her joke anyway.

˳·˖𖤐 So, were you surprised when a few students started going missing? 

˳·˖𖤐 The leader of the cheerleaders that always gave you a hard time? Gone.

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie was your biggest fan, always showing up to watch your cheerleading practices.  Manspreading on the benches, her gaze never left you, not daring to miss a single move. The sight of you, all sweaty with wisps of hair escaping your ponytail, only made you look cuter in her eyes. She loved seeing you in that little cheerleader uniform. Whenever you smiled and glanced at her, her heart would thunder in her chest. It was as if her whole world revolved around those fleeting glances and spontaneous smiles you’d throw her way. You were awfully adorable.

What Ellie found far less adorable was how the head cheerleader constantly picked on you, always putting you down. What frustrated her even more was that you just let it happen. In her mind, Amanda wasn’t better than you—no one could even come close to you. To Ellie, you were perfect, and she wished you could see it too. When she saw you walking toward her, she quickly set aside the leather-bound journal she had been scribbling in, placing it on the empty spot next to her as she greeted you with a warm smile.

“You’re doing great, beautiful,” She turned to grab her backpack, which had been thrown carelessly on the empty benches behind her. Her tattooed arm reached inside the already unzipped, worn-out bag. “Yeah, you say that, like, every single time.” You sat on the bench next to her, sweat beading on your forehead as you let out a slight huff, feeling winded after your practice. “‘s true though.” She pulled out a small towel and handed it to you with a gentle smile. She was always considerate, constantly looking out for you and ensuring you were taken care of. She expressed her love for you through these little gestures, like bringing things she thought you might need in her green backpack. Her obsession with you was apparent in how she hovered over you, but you couldn't deny that it was comforting to have someone care for you so deeply. That was love—real love—and you had never experienced that from anyone else.

“Goood, you’re so perfect,” you accepted the towel from her outstretched hand and began to pat your forehead, feeling some relief from the heat. But a little towel wasn’t the only thing she brought for you—she also handed you a refreshing bottle of water to quench your thirst and a cherry-flavored lollipop as a little treat. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of that beloved childhood candy in your hand. A soft smile spread across her lips when your words reached her ears, and she looked away, her gaze drifting toward the horizon. Her shoulders lifted ever so slightly in a subtle shrug, “Oh, I know” her elbows propped up on her knees as she leaned forward. She was deep in thought, and her hands were intertwined. You took a few sips of your water and unwrapped a lollipop, both of you fell silent, completely focused on watching Amanda, who was the target of Ellie's intense gaze, she was studying her. “She’s a bitch” the freckled girl next to you muttered under her breath. You hummed in agreement, savoring the sugary goodness. “Why do you even let her speak to you that way?” she shook her head in disapproval, you could feel her gaze on you even if you weren't looking at her. “What do you want me to do? She’s the leader, El. She’ll throw me out of the team if I confront her.” You reached up to your mouth and pulled the lollipop out with a loud smack noise, feeling a sense of defeat wash over you. Ellie expressed her disagreement with a small scoff that barely registered on her plump lips, almost imperceptible. She picked up her journal once again and resumed whatever she was doing, and the silence between the two of you fell once again, punctuated only by the sound of the pencil scratching across the page. When you looked down at her journal, you couldn’t help but notice a drawing she was making of Amanda. The drawing portrayed Amanda in a rather disturbing manner, physically harmed with a knife in her chest. The details of the drawing were quite graphic, and you could tell she had put a lot of effort and passion into it. “Oh, well...that's detailed,” you commented, still sucking on your lollipop, savoring the sweet taste in your mouth. You noticed a small curl of her lips as if she felt proud of her drawing skills. “But that’d be too messy,” you added, her head shot up to look at you. “Yeah? How would you do it then?” she asked, almost challenging you to come up with a better idea for the hypothetical scenario. “The bitch’s allergic to almonds,” Your eyes were fixed on Amanda, who was laughing with her friend. Ellie raised her brows at you, an amused smile appearing on her lips. “That’s it? A good ol’ accidental allergy reaction? Where’s the fun in that?” you shrugged at her words. “No blood, no traces, it’d be harder to get caught,” you explained, proving your point. It was logical and more calculative than her hypothesis. “True but stabbing her to death seems funnier, I dunno.” She inhaled deeply, leaning back into her bench, her back pressed on the benches behind her. “Hearing them beg for mercy, scream in pain, and the look in their eyes…” She went on, entirely absorbed in her twisted narration. As she spoke, the details grew darker and more grotesque with each word. You watched her, bewildered, struggling to tell if this was still just a “what if” game. When Ellie finally realized you hadn’t responded, she looked over at you—the familiar warmth in her eyes had drained away, leaving something sharper, emptier, a chill that made you feel as though you were staring into someone else entirely.

“And where would you hide the body?” you asked.

She smiled sadistically, almost as if she already had an answer ready for that question. “I know the perfect place for that kind of thing.” she put down her journal, her emeralds back on you as she told you about the place she had in mind. “No one would ever look there,” You agreed, giving her a nod, the cherry taste of the candy lingering as you let the sweetness melt off your tongue, an amused grin playing at the corners of your mouth. The plan was actually well-thought-out—impressively so.

“I told you,” she said softly, her gaze darted between your lips and the lollipop. “Oh? Want some?” you teased, holding the lollipop just a breath away from her. Slowly, you edged the glistening, saliva-coated candy toward her, and she parted her lips, wrapping them around it, savoring the artificial cherry taste with a quiet hum of satisfaction. Her fingers replaced yours on the stick, her fingertips brushing lightly over yours, lingering just a little too long. She held your gaze, her eyes softened, almost entranced, though the depth of that look was something you couldn’t quite place. In reality, she was gazing at you enamored, her pupils wide open, but you were completely oblivious to her feelings and failed to pick up on her infatuation. Shortly after that day, Amanda was gone. Disappeared into thin air, nowhere to be found. You knew it wasn’t adding up, especially when you asked Ellie about it. She’d be so nonchalant, like she had nothing to do with her it. But you knew she was lying. Did you care about that stupid cunt being gone? Absolutely not. You soon became the leader of the cheerleaders, and everyone looked up to you.

˳·˖𖤐 The girl who was grinding on you at Daniel’s party? Found dead the morning after.

˳·˖𖤐 The first few months of college had set in, and you were already drowning in a sea of assignments and deadlines, feeling overwhelmed and stressed out. To stay close to you, Ellie took the bold step of enrolling in the same college as you. She even went as far as to choose the same major─Psychology─just to be in the same classes as you, ensuring that you both had the same schedule, did the same assignments, and even hung out with the same people. 

˳·˖𖤐 It was ironic, really, how someone as anti-social and apathetic as her would pursue a field that involved studying human behavior and emotions. But she did it anyway because the mere thought of being away from you for even a second was unbearable to her. She didn’t want anyone else to get closer to you or share the dorm with you, so she followed you and moved in with you because no one could take care of you better than her. You both decided to get an apartment together to share the bills and responsibilities of living independently. Your parents were more than willing to support you financially, making sure that you had everything you needed for college and the apartment. You were attached by the hip, and wherever you went, she was there with you, and whenever she wasn't, you became nervous and anxious, wondering what she was doing and if everything was okay. It was as if you had become too dependent on her, and the thought of being alone scared you. But the dependency was mutual; she needed you just as much as you needed her.

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie was not a fan of parties and preferred staying home, indulging in horror movies while getting high with you. However, when you told her about Daniel’s Halloween party, she knew she had to accompany you to ensure your safety and protect you from any potential creeps. You had been eagerly waiting for Halloween, your favorite holiday, and Ellie didn't want you to miss the opportunity to dress up and have a good time. Despite her initial reluctance, she was somewhat excited, not for the party itself but because she finally had a reason to wear the ghostface costume that had been sitting in her closet, untouched and unused. 

Ellie was already ready, her costume simple but somehow annoyingly perfect—but that was the price that came with being effortlessly beautiful—and her Ghostface mask thrown lazily on her shoulder. She stood at the bathroom entrance, arms crossed, eyes unwavering as they followed you. You slipped into the tight black dress, pulling it into place with a little struggle as it hugged every curve. You, on the other side, loved taking care of every little detail of your makeup and costume, ensuring your appearance was always on point. “I hate these things,” she muttered under her breath, brow furrowed, though her gaze was anything but annoyed as it lingered on your body. With her hip pressed against the doorframe, she watched as you adjusted the neckline, her head tilted to the side, eyes scrutinizing each inch of skin exposed. “Why’d you have to pick something so revealing?” she asked, voice low, almost a grumble. You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully. “It’s Halloween, Ellie,” you huffed out, “I can wear whatever I want. Don't be such a buzz kill.” “I meant for Halloween parties. Last year, you were that damn sexy nurse. This year, it’s a tight dress. What’s next? A slutty bunny?” the freckled girl quipped, her lips curling up into a wry smile as she raised an eyebrow at you, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She let out a light chuckle, the sound echoing softly in the small bathroom. “And you’re here complaining,” you retorted with a mischievous grin as you reached for your high heels and effortlessly slid your feet into them. You took a few confident steps towards her, giving her a complete view of your stylish outfit. Her eyes roamed up and down your body. Your dress hugged every curve, revealing just enough skin to accentuate her drool. She licked her lips, imagining what she could do with you in that skimpy outfit, but she had to keep her hands to herself, unfortunately.  “You look fucking amazing.” 

You gave her a soft smile, turning toward the mirror and reaching for your makeup bag on the countertop. “Just need to fix my makeup, and we’re all set,” you informed her, pulling out your favorite berry pink gloss and a tube of mascara, both essentials for tonight. Ellie let out a low chuckle from the doorway, fingers tapping lazily on the frame. “You’re gonna make me want to commit murder tonight,” she joked, eyes flicking over you as you leaned in closer to the mirror. Without looking away from your reflection, you rolled your eyes, your long lashes nearly brushing against your brows. “Oh, shut up. You’ll survive,” you replied, carefully gliding the gloss over your lips. She sighed, tipping her head back against the doorframe. “Honestly, I don’t know why we’re even going. It’s gonna be full of drunk assholes, all crowding around like moths.” “C’mon, El, it’s gonna be fun,” you insisted, catching her eye in the mirror. She rolled her eyes, exhaling dramatically. “Oh, yeah, can’t wait to watch people hitting on you,” she drawled, her voice heavy with sarcasm. You snorted, giving her a smirk as you grabbed your mascara. “Well, thank God I’ll have you by my side, scaring them all away.” “Damn right,” she shot back, and you both chuckled. Finishing up, you turned on your heels to face her, your eyes locking with hers. The two of you were only inches apart now, close enough to share each unspoken word in the air between you. “So, what do you think? How do I look?” you questioned, seeking her approval, though you knew the answer already. Ellie’s gaze drifted over you, her lips twitching into a scoff. “You already know you look hot,” she murmured, unable to hide a small smirk. She seemed momentarily lost as she looked at you, her green eyes flitting from your lips to your eyes, drawn in despite herself. You felt a pulse of satisfaction at her reaction, the way her attention lingered on you. “Ellie…” you murmured, leaning a bit closer, your voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down her spine. She licked her lips almost instinctively, her gaze dropping to your glossy ones, and the air between you grew thick, the energy snapping with tension. “...Yeah?” she breathed, her voice barely audible. Her breath hitched as you inched closer before coming to a halt. You smirked, tipping your head to the side. “Can I be your helpless victim?” you teased, catching her off guard with the unexpected line. Ellie’s face contorted into one of confused disbelief, and before you could hold it back, laughter escaped you at her expression. In response, she gave your shoulder a playful shove, rolling her eyes as she fought a smile. “Fuck you,” she groaned, a hint of laughter in her voice, and she ducked out of the bathroom, completely flustered, leaving you grinning after her.

When you arrived at the party, your best friend was glued to your side. She didn’t want you to be alone for even a moment, telling you that she’d stay sober to keep an eye on you in case you decided to drink. However, despite her best efforts, she lost track of you for just a few minutes. When she finally found you, she swore she felt her whole organs sink. You were dancing with a girl. Everything seemed to slow down, and jealousy and pure rage quickly built up inside her as she registered that girl’s hands guiding your hips as she ground on your ass and her lips devoured your neck. When your gaze met hers, you couldn’t help but notice the striking green color of her eyes had turned into an intense, almost ominous shade. Her jaw was tightly clenched, and you could feel a sense of discomfort creeping up on you. It was like you had crossed an invisible line and were now doing something you shouldn’t do. Almost instinctively, you pushed the girl off of you, and before you could give the drunken girl an explanation, Ellie was already walking toward you.

“We’re going back home,” She spoke with a harsh, demanding tone. She grabbed your wrist tightly and forcefully pulled you away from the girl you were dancing with. You didn't even have a chance to say goodbye or explain the situation as she dragged you away.

“Why are you acting like this? Can’t I make friends?” Your words were slightly slurred, the tipsiness settling in as you tried to pull your wrist from her grip, but Ellie’s hold was firm. You didn’t want to leave the party yet; the night had just started and had been so much fun, and her urgency to get you out only made disappointment grow. The music and chatter gradually faded as she dragged you both toward the exit.

“Didn’t look like a friend to me,” she muttered, voice sharp with an edge that cut through your drunk haze. “Looked more like she wanted to fuck you right there in front of everyone—in front of me.” She cast a glance back at the party, the girl long gone already. “Besides,” she added, “—you have me. I don’t see why you need her.” There was an ache in her tone as if she felt betrayed by your actions, a hidden desperation she was trying to keep under wraps. Couldn’t you see? She was right there, ready to be everything you needed, the one person who knew you better than anyone else. You narrowed your eyes, pushing her, testing her. “So what if she did want to fuck me? What are you, my girlfriend?” The words came out in a perfectly thought-out taunt to poke the emotions she preferred to keep hidden under the surface. You couldn’t deny that you’d thought about it too—what it would be like to actually be with her. Her green eyes darkened, shifting from their usual warmth to something intense and possessive, jealousy sparking in the depths. It was rare for you both to argue, but this time it felt like there was something deeper brewing beneath the surface, something that had been sitting there gathering dust, waiting for the right moment to bubble out like scorching lava. There was a palpable tension in the air, more-than-friendly feelings in your eyes. Even a fool would’ve been able to see the unspoken feelings and desires that neither of you could express aloud. Perhaps it was the fear of rejection or the uncertainty of how the other person felt kept you both from taking that step. “I just don’t want you getting hurt or taken advantage of.” She lied, her words sharp, unyielding, and tone laced with frustration and anger. That wasn’t a complete lie, but it was still not the whole truth. She took a slow, deep breath to calm herself down. Gradually, her tense body relaxed, and her previously sharp tone softened. “You’re all I have.” As she spoke again, her eyes, which had been stern, took on a gentler expression, and you could sense vulnerability in her voice, suddenly yearning for ‘reassurance’. “I’m sorry for being rough. It’s just… seeing anyone else with you just… fuck, I don’t know why it pisses me off so much.”  Ellie wanted you to believe she was reacting out of fear because she didn’t want to lose you. But her motives were more complex than that. While it was true that she was afraid of losing you, her actions were purely driven by a sense of selfishness. She strongly believed that you were meant to be together and that it was only a matter of time until you realized she was the one for you. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “No one could ever replace you, and I hope you know that.” With a gentle tug of her costume, you pulled her close. Your arms wrapped tightly around her, and you could feel the weight of her body press against yours as she leaned into you. As you held her, you could feel the tension slowly start to melt away, replaced by a familiar sense of safety that usually came with being in her arms. “No, you’re right. I’m not your girlfriend, you can do whatever you want—fuck whoever you want.” Her voice quivered with hesitation, and her heart felt like it was weighed down by a heavy burden. She almost sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than anything, the words tasting sour on her tongue. She knew it wasn’t normal to be so possessive of your best friend, no one acted this way toward their friends. So what was she supposed to do? Lock you up in a glass cage and never let you go? Although the idea was tempting she knew she had to set you free─free enough to find someone at least, even if it felt extremely wrong. What were the chances it would last?

˳·˖𖤐 Despite her promise to let you go, to let you be with whoever you wanted, the girl you’d danced with that night was found dead the following day, her body left in a state so brutal it was as if every ounce of someone’s anger had been carved into her. The pieces didn’t quite fit, but you couldn’t bring yourself to confront it—not yet. Maybe it was all just a coincidence, a horrible coincidence.

˳·˖𖤐 And yet, every time the news flashed across the screen or a passing conversation brought it up, her casual comments made your blood run cold.

“Oh, what a shame,” she’d murmur, not a hint of genuine sympathy in her tone.  “Guess this is what happens when you hoe around,” she’d remark, her voice steady, an almost imperceptible smirk ghosting her lips. “Hm… sucks. ‘s not even her best picture,” she’d add, a detached sort of amusement glinting in her eyes.

˳·˖𖤐 When you tried to confront her and ask questions that had been gnawing at your mind, her responses were so calm—too calm, too controlled. Her voice was smooth as she answered, almost as if rehearsed as she tried to make you feel ridiculous for even asking.

“I was with you last night. What are you implying?” she’d say, her tone just soft enough to make you question yourself. “You sound crazy right now,” she’d whisper, eyebrows raised in concern. “Maybe all these murders going on are messing with your head.”

With every word, she seemed to pull you deeper into self-doubt, her gaze softening, her voice laced with an almost painful sweetness. “Are you listening to yourself right now? I love you, but… you’re scaring me. You’re being paranoid.”

˳·˖𖤐 Her words lingered, a shadow in your mind until you couldn’t tell if it was your sanity or hers that was starting to slip.

˳·˖𖤐 The third person to disappear into thin air was your boyfriend.

˳·˖𖤐 Shortly after that heated argument with your best friend, you got into your first relationship. She gave you a little more freedom to talk to people, to socialize, but her jealousy flared whenever she saw you with him—or anyone else, for that matter.

God, why him? she’d ask herself, the question gnawing at her each time she saw the two of you together. He wasn’t exceptionally bright, his style was awful, and, to her, he wasn’t even remotely attractive. Whenever he was around, she’d mock him or throw out casual, biting jokes. She always seemed to be the only one laughing. Strangely enough, her snide remarks never fazed him—he never seemed intimidated by her like other guys who quickly fell away, discouraged or unnerved after a few seconds of her scrutiny. But not him. He stuck around, seemingly immune to her attempts to chase him off. So she took care of him. You were left with nothing but a single message, his name lighting up your screen in a sudden, unexpected end. He said he had to break things off because he was moving out of town, needing a “clean break,” a “fresh start.” The words felt hollow, calculated, and as you read through the message, your emotions twisted—hurt, anger, betrayal, all swirling within you. It was your first relationship, and he had chosen to end it over a text message without any explanation or warning. You felt like you meant nothing to him, and the fact that he disappeared from your life without as much as a goodbye added insult to injury. You were upset, not because you were particularly in love with him, but because you hated the feeling of being rejected. You had always been in control, the one rejecting people, so it was a blow to your ego to be on the receiving end of a breakup. 

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie, of course, had been there for you, providing support and care during this difficult time. She had to be here, because what kind of friend would she be if she wasn't there for you for something she had caused?

She squeezed you tighter, those strong, toned arms wrapping around you with an unbreakable and relentless grip. Her breath was hot on your neck as she murmured against your ear, lips grazing your skin with a smug smirk. “I told you this would happen,” she’d mutter, words slipping out with that intoxicating blend of annoyance and affection. She’d let her slender, cold fingers trace your spine in a way that left a shiver behind, and her hand would possessively rest on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer. “No one—no one will ever love you like I do. No one knows you like this. He could never do what I can.” “You should’ve known better, angel.” There was a dark satisfaction in her voice, almost sounding like she was taunting you, leaning in just close enough for you to feel the heat of every word against your flesh. “Told you he wasn’t the one for you, baby girl.” 

˳·˖𖤐 Not only did Ellie ensure that your boyfriend would never come anywhere near you, but now she seemed to be spending more time than ever clinging close to you, cuddling with you, and sharing the bed with you—all under the guise of offering you comfort. 

˳·˖𖤐 Your friendship had always been intense and boundaryless, it had never been anything but healthy. And it had always been increasingly clear to anyone looking in from the outside that your relationship was more than platonic. Ellie had always been obsessed with you, and her love for you had bordered on devotion. But while others could see this, you remained oblivious to her true feelings, always wondering if she liked you back.

˳·˖𖤐 And that’s when things started to change. Maybe it was the fact that you now lived together and got to spend every second with each other, or maybe it was the fact that your stupid boyfriend was out of the picture─you weren’t sure, but you didn’t mind, and neither did she. Slowly, it was back to just you and her again. Your boyfriend was nowhere to be seen, and there were no other distractions. It was just the two of you like it always used to be.

You were leaning back on the couch, a joint held between your lips, your eyes heavy and red as you focused on the big TV in front of you. It was Friday night, a time when everyone else would usually go out, but for you, it only meant one thing: movie night with Ellie. The living room was dark, except for the light cast from the TV, making your faces glow in the darkness. You let out a throaty chuckle, taking another hit before sinking deeper into the couch and passing the joint back to her. You were rambling about random stuff as the movie went on, just filling in the background noise at first. Neither of you was really focused on the movie, too high to pay attention to what was happening on the screen. Your mind was wandering to other places, and it was easy to lose track of the scenes as they unfolded.  But then, a steamy scene suddenly caught both of your attention. You could feel the heat rising from the joint and maybe something else; the smoke filling your lungs and a fuzzy feeling spread throughout your body, filling you with a sense of relaxation and mellow contentment. But there was still a tiny fluttering sensation in your stomach, even though you knew it shouldn't be there. It was a strange feeling, like a soft and unexpected rush of excitement, and it made you feel both giddy and nervous all at once. As you watched the steamy scene playing out in front of your eyes, you caught a glimpse of Ellie licking her chapped and dry lips, her green, dilated eyes fixed like a laser on the screen. Her breathing was slightly faster, and you could feel her body tense up as she watched the scene. She didn’t take her eyes off the screen for a second, as if her life depended on watching it. “Y’know, you were my gay awakening,” she spoke suddenly, her husky voice breaking the silence and snapping you to attention. She stared at you, her eyes lingering on every part of your body before settling back on your face. It was a bold confession, coming out of nowhere, and suddenly, you felt your heart beating faster. A dry chuckle slipped out of you, catching in your throat. Even though you were high and a little out of control, her admission had you feeling speechless. “Is that so?” You ran your tongue across your bottom lip, trying to wet it as your throat suddenly felt parched and your pulse thrummed in your ears, hard and loud. “Hmmm-mmmh,” she hummed lazily in response, sounding almost like a low purr in your ear. Her hand rested on your bare thigh, squeezing gently, her touch delicate but firm. Heat pooled in your stomach almost instantly. “Always thinking of you when I touch myself.” “Show me.” You challenged her with a sultry tone.   Ellie scoffed, her scarred auburn brows lifting in disbelief. Had she heard you right? She swore she was hallucinating. “What?” “You heard me. Touch yourself,” you commanded, your voice firm, leaving no room for doubt. The corners of your lips lifted into a smirk, the confidence in your gaze obvious.

“And you’re just gonna sit there and stare like a creep?” She shook her head slowly, an amused smile on her face as if she wasn’t sure whether to take you seriously. But the soft chuckle and the way her eyes stayed locked on yours hinted that she was not entirely opposed to the idea. “Maybe, maybe not.” You shifted on the couch, turning fully to face her, now closer than ever. Practically in her space, watching her, you could almost feel her heart about to explode. Those little pajama shorts you had on had her captivated. Her eyes kept slipping down, caught on how tightly they hugged your curves, tracing every inch of your legs and hips. She tried to keep her gaze on your face, but it was impossible to stop glancing lower.  “If you do it, I’ll do it too,” you added, your voice dripping with temptation as her silence stretched out. And with that, something in her snapped, a fuse blowing in her mind until the only thing left was pure, raw need. No hesitation, no questions—just her fingers reaching into her waistband, spurred on by that hungry look in your eyes. You both sat there, legs spread, your hands slipping inside your panties, each of you putting on a show for the other.   Ellie’s breath hitched, and her fingers moved with fervor, sending shivers down your spine. You couldn’t help but watch, mesmerized by how her parted lips let out shallow breaths, quiet gasps escaping as her hand worked. She moved with purpose, fingers gliding through her wetness, quickening her pace to get you to keep up.  “Do what I do,” she groaned, her voice low and rough. You obliged, your fingers following her frantic rhythm.  “Fuck, Ellie,” you moaned, biting back the whimper that her every move pulled out of you. 

She didn’t miss a thing, loving how you trembled and squirmed under her gaze, your body aching, practically begging. Her wildest fantasies were unfolding right in front of her, and she was greedy, wanting every sound, every gasp, every moan.   “You like that, yeah?” she rasped, her voice so rough it made your walls clench. The empty ache inside you was unbearable, your fingers slippery and soaked as you followed her every twist and stroke. You nodded, desperate, moans spilling out without restraint, each one making her move even faster. The sight of her, her touch, her ragged breaths was dizzying. She wanted to own every second, to make you crave her as much as she craved you. Your needy voice rang out, soft and breathy, “Mmmhh… need more, El.” You sounded so desperate, so whiny, it made her heart race. You were just so fucking pretty, and she couldn't stop thinking about how it would feel to have her fingers inside you, feeling every desperate pulse, every needy clench around her as you milked her fingers deliciously. Before she could even process the thought, you slid your other hand down, sinking two fingers past your folds with a soft sigh, filling yourself as deep as you could.  The sight made her breath hitch, a low moan slipping out as she watched, knowing that this image would be carved into her brain forever. She could already feel herself getting off to the thought of this moment, over and over again. Your fingers moved in sync, one hand teasing and torturing your clit while the other pumped inside, stroking that perfect spot that made your thighs tense and shiver. Ellie watched, her brows knitted, barely able to tear her eyes away from your sadly still-covered cunt. “God,” she gasped, her chest heaving as she took in every pretty little expression, every sound slipping from your lips as you finger-fucked yourself. She was beyond turned on, completely mesmerized by how good you looked, and couldn’t hold back any longer. With her hand still buried in her boy shorts, she flicked her clit faster, fingers rubbing in desperate, frantic messy circles as she got swept up in the sight of you. “So fuckin’ needy,” she taunted, her voice low and hoarse.

“Gonna...g’na cum,” you whined, eyes squeezed shut, breaths coming out in short, shaky bursts. In a move that sent a shiver down your spine, Ellie reached out and gently tugged your hand away from your shorts, intertwining her fingers with yours.  “Me too—wanna cum with you, need you close,” she gasped, her words breaking into soft moans as her own high built. She squeezed your hand tight, needing the contact as her hips jerked up, chasing her release. Your other hand kept moving, your fingers hitting that perfect, spongy spot again and again until— “I’m coming!” you cried out, your moans reaching a pitch that filled the room, echoing through the walls, your fingers slamming into yourself as you came, waves of pleasure crashing over you. 

“Ooooh fuck!” Ellie groaned, her hips bucking as she rubbed herself faster, her hand squeezing yours hard as she climaxed, her voice hoarse and breathless. 

You sat there, chests heaving, bodies still trembling in the aftermath, catching your breaths in silence as the euphoria slowly faded. For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, gradually, reality seeped back in as you both glanced at each other, feeling completely blissful. Her lips pulled into a soft smile, cheeks flushed as her thumb absentmindedly stroked the back of your hand.

Feeling a rush of warmth, you leaned back, wiping your fingers on the soft fabric of your pajama shorts, a quiet contentment settling over you. Ellie tugged gently at your tank top, silently inviting you to come closer. You obliged, sinking into her embrace as she wrapped her arms around you. She pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, whispering in her dazed, dreamy voice about how perfect the moment had been, dropping little words of affection she’d usually never say out loud. With the weed still buzzing in her system, it all slipped out way too easily.

You drifted off in her arms, her warmth and steady breaths lulling you to sleep as the TV murmured softly in the background.

˳·˖𖤐 It was as though her infatuation with you intensified after that night, if that was even possible. She couldn’t get you out of her mind, and her focus on every little detail of your appearance became more and more pronounced. You were all she could draw, your lips, your nose, your brows, your eyes. She was convinced that she was the only one who truly appreciated your beauty. She believed that everyone else was too superficial to appreciate you for who you really were. To her, no one else deserved you─not like she did. You were the center of her world, and she couldn’t stop thinking about you. You were like a drug to her, and she craved you more than anything else, her mind was consumed with thoughts of you.

˳·˖𖤐 There was this sick habit of hers, one that she’d never admit out loud but couldn’t shake. Every night, she watched you as you slept, eyes glued to how your oversized shirt barely hung onto your curves. It was like she was waiting—no, hoping—for that shirt to ride up just a little bit more, enough to give her a full view of those soft legs and the tiny slip of fabric that barely covered you. 

You always seemed so relaxed, so at ease around her, never thinking twice about what you wore, especially when you two shared a bed. You’d just crawl under the covers, no pants, no bra, just that soft, baggy shirt. And every time, it drove her wild. Part of her wondered if you knew exactly what you were doing, the way you’d stretch and twist, giving her those little glimpses that made her pulse race—and to answer her silent dilemma, yes, you were doing it on purpose.  She couldn’t look away. Her hand would slip under her waistband, touching herself as her eyes roamed over you, desperate for more than just a view. She couldn’t resist ever since she admitted she’d been touching herself to the thought of you for as long as she could remember.  Even you could feel the tension every time her eyes lingered on your body or lips. Every time she shifted closer, her fingers grazing your thigh just a little too long just to pull away again, chickening out. All you wanted was for her to close that painful gap, to stop playing around and just touch you the way you knew she wanted to. Every night was a silent invitation, a wordless game where every move you made was another way to get her attention, pushing her until she couldn’t stand it any longer. Ellie licked her lips, her eyes glued to the sight beside her. Watching you sleep like this always turned her on─it was the combination of ‘innocence’, vulnerability, and sheer beauty that did it. The slight roll of your shirt had exposed just enough skin to make her heart race, her mind filled with naughty thoughts. You were never aware of how much she wanted to feel you and touch you inappropriately, but she knew it might ruin your friendship, and she couldn’t risk it.  Feeling her arousal increasing with every passing second, she slipped her hand under the covers. She knew it was wrong; she shouldn't be doing this while you were asleep next to her, sleeping peacefully as she came all over her fingers at the sight of your half-exposed body─but that didn’t stop her from doing it anyway. The temptation was too strong, and it was impossible to resist you. “Fuck... You’re killing me…” she thought to herself, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. It was late at night, and she couldn't resist anymore.

Without hesitation, she slid her hand into her shorts and started playing with herself. Her green, concentrated eyes never left your body, studying every curve and dip hungrily. Calloused fingers brushed against her sensitive nub gently, her hips slightly jerking away from her hand. She was so sensitive; you had her pussy throbbing like crazy, and the worst part was that you didn’t even do shit. It was her fault, her perverted and filthy mind's fault. But good lord, if she would sell all her organs to touch you. “The fuck are you doin’ to me…” she murmured under her breath as she played with her wetness, feeling how messy you made her. When her fingers returned to her clit, circling it gently, her breath hitched. She knew she had to be quiet; you were occasionally a light sleeper, and she couldn't risk getting caught. She parted her legs further apart as she kept teasing her clit slowly. “God…” She whispered, her breath coming out in short, shallow gasps, causing her voice to be soft and sultry as she rubbed herself with increasing tempo. There was no hesitation or inhibition, just raw, unadulterated desire dripping from every fiber of her being. So fucking nasty. She wondered what your reaction would be if you woke up and caught her in the act, but, yet again, there was something exhilarating about the risk, about the idea of you seeing her in the middle of her filthy act. Her face flushed as she imagined this, her mind filled with naughty scenarios as she rubbed herself harder and faster.  “Mmph... so beautiful…” Her eyes never left your body, even while touching herself. For some reason, it felt so good knowing you were just inches away, unaware of what she was doing. She couldn't help but fantasize about you pleasing her—she needed your fingers, you, and she also fantasized about reciprocating the favor.  “Can't wait to taste you... touch you…” She mumbled, lost in her fantasies. Her body trembled slightly from anticipation, she was close. “Mmm... fuck... gonna cum” Her voice was strained, increasing the pressure on her throbbing clit. It was becoming challenging to stay quiet, and she just hoped you wouldn't wake up to this.

When she did come, she pulled her damp and sticky hand out of her boxers, sucking her fingers clean before turning her head slightly to look at you, admire you. You laid there sleeping like an angel, your hair cascading down your face. She watched you with mixed emotions. 

Ellie’s chest rose and fell rapidly as she breathed, and her forehead was damp with sweat, her red-brown hair sticking to her freckled lush skin. Despite the guilt she knew she should be feeling, she couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. She promised herself she wouldn’t do it again, but deep down, she knew it was merely the first of many more. 

˳·˖𖤐 The more she did it, the more confident and bold she became, convinced that you’d never catch her.

˳·˖𖤐 One night, you had a bit too much soda before falling asleep. As the night wore on, you began to slowly wake up, feeling the urge to go to the bathroom.

She was so caught up in the moment that she didn’t notice the slight shift beside her. Your eyes fluttered open just wide enough to catch a glimpse of her hand moving under the covers. Her pale face was flushed, a blush covered her cheeks and her cute nose, her skin coated with a light sheen of sweat. She was biting down on her bottom lip, her eyes tightly shut, trying to keep herself quiet, while her tattooed arm was stuffed deep inside her boxers. Her toned abs tensed up subtly as her perky tits peeked through her black t-shirt, jiggling with every tiny movement she made. Fuck, what a sight. You thought you were dreaming. Hell, you were sure of it. Why would she even do that next to you? You knew you should’ve done or said something, but the sight of your best friend pleasuring herself right beside you only made your pussy throb madly, and the way she dirty-talked to herself to make herself cum. God.

You squeezed your thighs together, pretending to be asleep. Her soft moans made you feel indescribable things, and you felt yourself getting increasingly wet; it felt like torture to lay there and pretend to be asleep while she pleasured herself like that, but at the same time, it was addictive.  So, instead of confronting her, you decided to play along. Wearing slutty thongs to bed became your new routine, and of course, it didn’t take Ellie too long to notice. Some nights, you could feel her lifting your beloved oversized shirt up just a bit to take a better look at your body. It was hard to suppress a smile, but you managed.

“A fucking thong, really? God.” you could hear her mutter quietly.

She’d mumble random shit like, “Wanna fuck you real bad,” when she was close to her orgasm. 

You’d often shift a bit too close to her to make her freak out, interrupting her imminent orgasm. It was entertaining hearing her panic and freeze. The little sigh of relief she'd let out when she looked over you to make sure you were ‘sleeping’ was even cuter to you.

˳·˖𖤐 One day, while doing the laundry, your eyes caught a flash of red fabric peeking out of her sweatpants, tucked deep inside the pocket. A brief moment of recognition made you realize it was your thong, one that you had lost long ago. And you remembered vividly how you had always wondered where it had gone. You knew Ellie had something to do with it—indeed, you were not wrong. “Perv,” you let out a breathy chuckle as you withdrew the thong from her pocket and tossed it inside the washing machine. 

˳·˖𖤐 Though you couldn’t say shit. You weren’t really in a position to, not when you had stolen her boxers—the very ones she had made a mess of the other night, getting off to your ‘innocent’ form in that thong, all sprawled out for her eyes only. Unlike her, you had tucked it away, ensuring she’d never find it—in your bottom drawer, buried beneath a pile of neatly folded clothes.

˳·˖𖤐 Everything had been rainbows and roses since your boyfriend was out of the picture, leaving Ellie with you all to herself, just as she liked it. She’d half-expected this wouldn’t last forever, but she didn’t think it would unravel so soon, too soon.

After your shower, wrapped only in a towel, you realized you’d forgotten to grab fresh clothes. Too lazy to trek back to your room, you decided Ellie’s closet would do just fine. “El! I’m borrowing your clothes!” you called out, already swinging open her closet door without waiting for a response. The woody, warm scent of her filled the small space, mingling with the crisp smell of laundry detergent.

Your gaze drifted downward, catching on a gym bag lying half-zipped. The black fabric looked dull under the dim light, but something about it drew you in. There were dark stains on the shirt peeking out—a rusted, dried red that had you swallowing hard. Right next to it sat a Ghostface mask, its hollow, grinning face staring up at you, taunting you, like it knew something you didn’t. 

Just then, Ellie’s voice cut through the silence, a little too rushed, a little too panicked. “Wait, I’ll get it for you!” You heard her footsteps nearing, but by the time she appeared in the doorway, you were already crouched down, inspecting the items, your fingers clutching your boyfriend’s shirt—now stiff with dried blood—and a stained knife in the other.

She froze, her already pale face drained of color as your eyes met. She didn’t say a thing, didn’t try to explain or reach out. She simply stood there, like a deer caught in headlights, waiting for you to make the first move.

“What the fuck?” you choked out, anger tangling in your throat. Your voice cracked, but you didn’t let it stop you. “Why do you have this, Ellie?!” The words were sharp, edged with accusation, and your fingers tightened around the shirt, clinging to the blood-soaked fabric like it was proof of a reality she couldn’t deny. 

Ellie flinched, cursing herself for not getting rid of that piece of evidence. Maybe it was the procrastination, or perhaps she was just too wrapped up in you—you had that effect on her. Her expression flickered between panic and something else, something guarded, as if she were mentally scrambling to find the right lie to feed you.

“I swear, it’s not what it looks like.” Her voice was low, almost eerily calm, meant to keep you from losing your mind and freaking out even more, but it was doing the opposite. “Sit down. I can explain. I promise.” She inched closer, coaxing you back toward her bed, trying to control the situation, as if talking you down would make all of this disappear. But you stepped away from her, backing toward the closet instead.

“Then fucking explain,” you demanded, your voice rising, heat flooding your cheeks as your pulse hammered. Your eyes trailed down to the Ghostface mask lying on the floor, and you kicked it toward her. “What the hell are you doing with all this shit? With my boyfriend’s shirt?”

“Ex-boyfriend,” she corrected you, as if that made a difference in the moment. But she cared enough about it to not hold her tongue. You scoffed in disbelief at her correction, and your stern look only prompted her to keep talking, desperate to answer your question. “I found it in the trash,” she began, her tone too smooth, her words practiced. “I was going to take it to the cops.” But you both knew that was a shitty excuse. The explanation hung in the air, feeble and hollow, cracking under the weight of your inquisitor glare.

“That’s a fucking lie, and you know it,” you spat, tightening your grip on the knife, its sharp tip now aimed right at her. 

“Just sit down, please. I’ll tell you everything.” Her words spilled out, each one more frantic than the last, thick with desperation as she inched closer, hands reaching out like she was steadying herself—or preparing to corner you.

You held your ground, pressing your back into the cold closet door, “No, fuck that!” you snapped, refusing to let her control the moment. Her jaw tightened, and in an instant, she lunged forward, catching your wrist and forcing it up against the wood, pinning the knife-holding hand in place.

“Listen to me!” she growled, her voice growing louder, almost vibrating with a tension that rippled between you, making you quiver. Her face was close, too close, so close that her warm breath hit your face, and her eyes locked onto yours, wild verdants unwavering, staring into your dilated pupils.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” you shouted, fury shaking the air between you as you pulled at her iron-tight grip. But it was useless. You were sick of her lies, of her half-truths. All you truly desired was for her to lay it all bare for you ‘cause you weren’t fucking dumb, and deep down, you knew it. You had known all along. Her grip only tightened, her knuckles turning white against your skin as her breaths came fast. This Ellie was raw, untamed—a far cry from the girl you had around every day. But in this harsh intensity, there was something real, something you’d been craving for.

“You wanna know the truth? Fine!” Her voice rose, each word bitten off, hard enough to make you flinch. She gazed down at the bloodstained shirt sprawled across the floor, her face hardening, “Yeah, that’s his. And yeah, that’s his blood. He deserved what he got.” 

“What the fuck, Ellie, you had no fucking right—” She slammed her other hand against the wooden surface of her closet door, inches away from your head, causing you to cut off your words before they could be fully uttered.

“He was cheating on you!” she interrupted you, her voice rough with anger, her face flushing red. “I saw him, alright? With that girl from the bar—the one you were always paranoid about. I fucking saw him with her. So yeah, I followed him, and things got… out of hand.”

You scanned her face, searching for any hint of regret or guilt, but all you found was a complete lack of remorse, an expression that only seemed to scream she’d do it all over again if she could. But it was exactly that thing in her eyes that pulled you in even more. “Then why not just tell me?” 

Why couldn’t you fear her? Why weren’t you grossed out? Shouldn’t you have had a typical reaction to her revelation, like screaming or crying over the brutal murder of your boyfriend? Instead, here you were, feeling oddly fascinated, giddy even.

“I wanted to,” she admitted, her voice a little raspier, her eyes glistening with what looked like tears—fake ones. The sudden empathy felt odd, something that didn’t belong to her, and you knew her too well for this shit. “But then I saw you, finally free, happy without him dragging you down. I thought I’d done you a favor. And then I just… couldn’t say it.” 

You pressed yourself harder against the closet door, staring at her like you were seeing her for the first time. You shook your head, “You’re lying,” you stated flatly, watching her mask drop.

“What? You think I’d lie?” she shot back, trying to twist the situation, like you were crazy for even suspecting her. But you knew better. Psychology classes were really paying off.

“Yes, Ellie, you’re lying.” you leaned in, and her jaw clenched as you continued. “You did it to Amanda and that girl at the party? You think I don’t remember that night? Just admit it!” You practically yelled, and a shadow passed over her face like an ominous cloud, her expression hardening again, her eyes growing cold, dark in a way that caught you off guard. One thing was for sure—there was a certain beauty in the way her captivating jade orbs effortlessly switched between the deceptive facade and the cold, calculated gaze of a serial killer. 

“Admit what?” her tone was mocking, like she was daring you to say it.

“That you—” The words stuck in your throat, your gaze slipping to the Ghostface mask on the floor. That’s when she ripped the knife out of your hand, her grip firm as she held it close to you, not quite pressing it into your skin, just close enough to see if it’d rattle you.

“C’mon,” she murmured, leaning in with that daring, dark smile, “say it.” Her eyes flashed with an edge of mania like she was enjoying this, feeding off your reactions, like some sick parasite.

“You killed them all.” you managed, voice barely a whisper, and she threw her head back in a laugh that sent chills down your spine.

“God, do you hear yourself? You sound pathetic,” she chuckled darkly, her knife tracing a line along your cheekbone, slow enough to make you shiver, close enough to cause goosebumps to erupt on your skin. Your chest tightened, your heartbeat loud in your ears as her lips curled in that contorted smile. ​​Your breath hitched as she leaned in, her gaze piercing through your irises, capturing every fleck of color.

“What? Gonna kill me now?” you breathed, your words almost taunting, a faint smirk pulling at your lips as her eyes narrowed.

She tilted the knife against your throat but still put no pressure. You felt yourself leaning into it, letting the thrill course through you and that familiar excitement growing in your tummy. “Gonna make me?” she whispered, voice thick and low, and for the briefest moment, her composure cracked—just enough for you to see her desperation, like she was hanging onto a thread. She needed you to stay, even after all this. She couldn’t live without you.

“I just want the truth,” you uttered, your voice soft, never breaking eye contact. And if you did, it was only to let your eyes drop to her lips, she was so tantalizingly close that it was impossible not to. “Drop the mind games. I want the truth.” You didn’t know how the hell you could still want her, adrenaline tangling in your chest, but you did. Maybe even more than before.

Her brows rose in mock surprise as she cocked her head. “You want the truth?” she echoed, lips parting in a cold smirk. “Fine. Yes, I killed your stupid fucking boyfriend. He died like a pussy,” she sneered, anger flashing as she clenched the knife, thinking of his hands on you, touching what had always belonged to her.

“Why?” you whispered, watching her like you were peeling away her layers, seeing her stripped of all pretenses.

“Why do you think?” she scoffed, rolling her eyes like it was obvious.

The words that tumbled from your mouth after her revelation left her almost astonished.

“How’d you kill him?” then, with a morbid fascination you added, “What did it feel like?” your head tilted slightly to the side. 

˳·˖𖤐 The more she went on and on about the macabre details, the more it turned you on. She was taken aback by your enthusiasm and curiosity, the specific questions flowing from your lips with an unsettling calm that she struggled to comprehend. It was almost as if you were savoring every twisted word that came from her. She couldn’t wrap her head around how her dark confessions had led to this moment—both of you naked, with you perched on top of her.

Ellie was gorgeous—way too gorgeous to be a serial killer, or a psychotic person. She was even more gorgeous beneath you, auburn strands of hair splayed across the pillow, messy but not as messy as her dripping pussy. Her breath hitched as your fingers tightened around the handle of her switchblade, the cold metal gliding from her neck down to her chest, drawing lazy white scratches all over her alabaster skin.

A low, frustrated groan escaped her lips as you drew lazy circles around her areolas with the sharp point of the knife, watching with satisfaction as her pink nipples hardened, standing at full attention for you, as hard as rocks and begging to be tortured. You could feel her grow restless beneath you—her hips bucking in a desperate attempt to grind against your pussy, but you lifted yourself ever so slightly, just enough to deprive her of the friction she craved.

“Desperate?” you mocked, your bottom lip jutting out in a cruel pout. Ellie’s eyes flicked up to yours, glazed with lust and frustration, but a small smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. A cocky front, even now. But it was just a front, she was so fucking weak for you.

“Yeah,” she rasped, her voice betraying her need, but her eyes showed a glint of defiance. She couldn’t resist trying to fight back. “But you’re dragging this out like a coward.”

You hummed sultrily, letting the blade press just a little harder against her dotty complexion—not enough to cut, but enough to leave faint red marks across her flesh. “Oh, you think you’re in a position to talk back?” you spat, your free hand pinning her wrist above her head as she squirmed. “You’re fucking sick, Ellie.”

“Like you’re any better,” she sneered, though her voice trembled as the tip of the knife traced down her sternum toward her stomach. Goosebumps rose on her sun-spotted skin as her breathing became more erratic, her hips lifting in vain again to seek the friction you kept cruelly out of her reach.

“Not the one going around killing people, am I?” you snorted, the blade now grazing and lingering just below her belly button.

Ellie’s defiance cracked, her voice weaker, more fragile as she muttered, “I did it for you.” it made your heart skip a beat or beat faster—you really couldn’t tell from all that adrenaline clouding your rational thoughts.

“You’re trembling,” you noted with a sly smirk, her cocky grin faltering as the knife inched lower, closer to where she needed you most. Ellie bit her lip hard, a needy whimper slipping through despite her best effort to stifle it.

“I need you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, one hand reaching up to rest on your hip. Her touch sent a shiver through you, and you couldn’t help but lower yourself closer, pressing your body against hers. 

A wicked smirk tugged at your lips, pride swelling in your chest at the sight of her—the usually cold, calculated killer, reduced to this. All because of you. Seeing her this weak for you truly made you want to do the unholiest things to her, things you knew she would never forget about. You tossed the switchblade aside, forgotten as soon as your lips descended on her neck, sucking dark spots on her soft flesh. You let your teeth sink in, biting just hard enough to get a soft sound out of her. The auburnette was so desperate and sensitive that everything seemed to make her moan—every brief touch, every kiss, even your breathing fanning over her skin. She was already half-gone, and you were barely even getting started.

Her skin flushed beneath your lips as you kissed your way down her body, taking your sweet time, savoring each second of her squirming beneath you. Her breaths grew more ragged, her thighs twitching as you moved lower. Ellie’s body was a temple, and right now, it was all yours to worship.

She’d killed for you, it was the least you could do. So, was romance really dead?

˳·˖𖤐 You’d never imagined Ellie would care that much, never thought she’d be capable of that level of obsession. And you didn’t mind it one bit. No, quite the opposite. The realization only made your pussy throb madly, heat pooling between your thighs as your mind replayed her confession over and over like a broken record, focusing on the brutal details she had given you. It wasn’t just the idea of her killing—it was that she did it because of you, because she couldn’t let anyone else have you.

Every single muscle in her body tensed, her legs trembling as you hovered right above her hairy mound. You could see it—the way her wetness coated her folds, her pink clit, swollen and impatient, her pussy practically begging for attention, and it only made you want to tease her more. Your thumb teasingly drew tight, gentle circles on her aching nub, making her whimper almost exaggeratedly.

“Aww, look at you…” you purred, retracting your hand, your voice low, honed in sweet mockery. You leaned in closer, your breath ghosting over her sensitive skin. “Soaking wet, desperate for me to touch you. Gonna start begging now?”

Your words made her whine, her resolve crumbling more with each passing second—not that there was any left. Her body betrayed her, hips lifting toward your face, her need palpable. But you weren’t done playing with her yet. You had all night ahead.

Your arms curled around her toned thighs, pulling her closer as you knelt at the edge of the bed, your face mere inches from her pussy. You could see how wet she was, how desperate she had become—there was even a dark wet patch on the sheets beneath her. You smirked up at her, eyes locking with hers as you lowered your mouth to her slick folds. With the tip of your tongue, you spread her moistened lips, and it was enough to make Ellie’s entire body jolt, a choked moan tearing from her throat as you tasted her, her sweet juices coating your lips as you lapped at her with slow, deliberate cat licks.

Ellie’s head fell back against the pillow, her hands gripping your hair with white-knuckled desperation as you ate her out, tongue flicking over her clit every now and then with just enough pressure to drive her mad. You sucked, your lips closing around her swollen bud, and Ellie’s back arched painfully off the bed, her thighs trembling around your head.

“Fuck… fuck…” she gasped, her hoarse voice scratching her already dry throat as her hips bucked uncontrollably and you held her down, refusing to let her squirm away from the relentless onslaught of your mouth.

You smirked against her, the vibrations of your giggle only making her moan louder. “Look at you, El,” you teased, your voice muffled between her thighs. “So sweet ‘n perfect f’me,”

You didn’t wait for a response, diving back in, your tongue swirling around her clit as you slipped two fingers inside her, curling them with brutal precision, finding that sweet spot that had her toes curling, her breath catching in her throat. Her gummy walls clenched around your fingers, and you could feel how close she was, her legs shaking violently.

Ellie’s moans grew louder, more frantic, her hands tugging at your hair hard as she tried to ground herself, grinding against your tongue. But you didn’t slow down—if anything, you fucked her harder, your fingers pumping into her fast and deep, your mouth never abandoning her needy clit, your nose buried in her trimmed bush.

“Beg me,” you commanded as you pulled away to breathe, her core swallowing every inch of your fingers greedily. All those years of plugging her fingers deep inside her wet cunt imagining they were yours instead were so worth the wait.

“I—fuck—” the green-eyed girl’s breath caught, her body shaking uncontrollably, her voice barely a whisper now. “Please… please…” She couldn’t even fucking function; you had reduced her to a broken mess.

“Can’t hear you,” you prompted her, your fingers plunging deeper, harder, until her back arched off the bed, a cry of pure need tearing from her throat.

“Fuck! Please, I need it—I need you—fuck, I’m so close!” she sobbed, her voice cracking as her orgasm crept closer, promising her to see stars, but you weren’t about to give her what she wanted—no, not yet.

You grinned wickedly, pulling your fingers out of her soaked pussy just before she could. A strangled, frustrated sob escaped her plump lips as her body writhed beneath you, her orgasm stolen, leaving her aching and needy.

“Aw, you’re not so smart, are you? You really thought I was going to let you come?” You leaned in, pressing your lips to her ear as you whispered, “Oh no, El… we’re just getting started. You’re not going anywhere.”

˳·˖𖤐 Ellie’s eyes widened with a mixture of frustration and confusion as you told her you’d let her come after you were done using her. You reached for your favorite strap-on, adjusting the harness until it sat snugly around her hips. Her wrists were bound securely to the headboard, the cuffs’ soft, fluffy lining pressing firmly against her skin. Her breath caught in her throat as the realization dawned on her, her eyes darting between the toy and your wicked grin. 

Her pupils were blown with lust as she watched you lower yourself onto her, the thick silicone toy sliding in with ease after you’d teased your throbbing bud with its tip. Her hands twitched, desperate to reach out, to touch you, but she couldn’t do much with the handcuffs keeping her wrists locked to the bed, the soft restraints holding her firmly in place. She watched with wide eyes as her cock stretched your needy, wet heat, sliding in and out. At first, your movements were slow and teasing, letting her take in every inch, but it didn’t take long before you picked up the pace, your body already accustomed to its size, moving with a frantic, eager rhythm.

“Fuuuck…” you panted, rolling your hips against the toy, your breath hitching as that familiar feeling built in your stomach. Ellie’s gaze was glued to you—your bouncing tits, your parted lips, the way your body moved smoothly above her. She wanted to touch, to feel you, but all she could do was watch as you used her, as you fucked yourself on the strap like she wasn’t even there. It was cruel, truly. Her body trembled with need as she watched you lose yourself in the overwhelming pleasure, her pussy throbbing with unmet desire as yours seemed to suck the toy deeper, and for a moment, she swore she could feel your walls tightening around her—perhaps it was the desperation playing a sick joke on her. She couldn’t help but let out a moan.

˳·˖𖤐 She had tried begging but she’d only be met with things such as:

“Cry about it,” you sneered, your voice cold and mocking as you watched her squirm restlessly beneath you.

“You’re such a fucking crybaby,” you murmured, fingers gripping onto her chin and forcing her to look at you as if her desperation was nothing more than a joke to you.

“I’m putting up a whole show for you, and you’re still complaining,” you chuckled darkly, a twisted satisfaction curling at the corners of your mouth as you looked down at her, reveling in her helplessness, your wetness dripping down the harness, making a mess on top of her.

“Please,” she whimpered, her voice cracking as she thrusted up. Mewls slipped out of your soft lips as the tip of her silicone cock hit your cervix, desperation written all over her flushed face. “Please let me touch you... let me do something...” Her voice hitched as she choked on a sob, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her glassy eyes locked onto yours, her cheeks streaked with the remnants of her pleas. “Fuck, I can’t—” she cried out, voice breaking again, her head tilting back as she tried to hold herself together. Her gaze flickered back up to you, trailing to your chest, lingering there hungrily. Bushy brows furrowed with longing as she licked her chapped lips.

But you weren’t listening. You were too lost in the pleasure of fucking yourself on her, your head thrown back, sobs pouring from your lips as the strap-on hit that perfect spot against your cervix. Your movements grew more frantic, hips slamming down harder, faster, the toy sliding in and out of your slick folds with ease. The wet sounds of your arousal filled her room, mixing with the desperate, needy gasps that escaped Ellie beneath you, her fingers curling into fists as the cuffs dug into her velvety skin, promising bruises she’d feel long after this was over.

Her eyes glazed over, chest rising and falling rapidly as she watched you ride her with reckless abandon. The sight of you, your body glistening with sweat, pretty tits bouncing with every thrust, was too much for her. She was on the edge, teetering, her body aching to release, but you wouldn’t let her. You wouldn’t let her do shit.

Ellie groaned, frustration and lust mixing in her voice as she bucked her hips uselessly beneath you, trying to gain even a fraction of relief from the sight of you fucking yourself senseless. “Please… please, I’m begging you,” she whimpered, her voice hoarse and broken, and god if it nearly made you squirt. “I need it—I need to come, please…”

You smirked down at her, not stopping, your hips grinding harder, riding the strap with everything you had. You leaned down, your breath hot against the shell of her ear as you whispered, “You’re not coming until I say you can. You’re going to sit there and watch me get off, and there’s nothing you can fucking do about it.” Cruelly pressing damp and sloppy kisses on the column of her neck, kisses that had her gasping pathetically.

˳·˖𖤐 And it went on and on, her eyes locked on the sight of your milky cum dripping down the thick, black strap, each drop making her bite back a groan. She wished she could taste you. Every time she tried to move or squirm too much for your liking, you’d smack her hard across the face, or switch to a new position just to tease her even more, making sure you were giving her the best view. It was only after the fifth—or maybe the sixth—orgasm that you finally uncuffed her.

The moment her wrists were free, she flipped you over, quick as lightning, giving you no time to react. She pinned you beneath her with a mischievous glint in her eyes, you looked up at her, panting and spent, your brows knitting together in a mix of frustration and exhaustion. She just smirked down at you, spreading your trembling legs apart with ease, her grip firm and unyielding.

“Oh fuck, no—” you gasped out, trying to squirm away as she wrapped her hand around the slick toy, guiding it right back to your abused entrance. She knew she could probably come right then, grinding against the back of the strap, but the thought of pushing you past your limits was far more thrilling. 

“You’re not stupid enough to think I’d let you go so easily, right?” she repeated your earlier words, her voice low and dangerous as she lowered herself over you, your sweaty bodies pressing together. “Didn’t you wanna be my helpless victim, babe?”

The redhead pushed in relentlessly, forcing your pulsating walls to swallow every inch, your back arching as she made you hold on just a little longer. Before long, your legs gave out beneath you as she pounded into you from behind, each thrust deep and brutal, your cheek pressed into the soft mattress. Her hand came down hard on your ass, leaving a sharp sting that burned like a bitch. The smacks kept coming, over and over, until your skin was bruised and your body was shaking with overstimulation. “This is for leaving me high and dry,” she hissed, her voice rough with frustration and desire, slapping the same bruised spot again and again, until you knew you’d be sore for days, unable to sit down.

˳·˖𖤐 When it was finally over, the two of you laid tangled together, breathless and sticky. Ellie’s chest heaved as she tried to steady her breathing, but a question lingered in her eyes—one that seemed to claw at her even now, despite everything you’d done to show her you weren’t running, that you weren’t disgusted by her nature. You had never been, for the matter, even when you were kids.

“You’re not gonna tell on me, yeah?” she rasped, her voice rough, her grip tightening possessively on your hip while her other hand gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. Her touch was surprisingly tender, contrasting with the weight of her words, like she was scared to hear your answer. It made your heart swell knowing she feared losing you so badly.

But you were so drunk of the overwhelming contentment that you barely registered the tension in her voice. Instead, a sleepy smile tugged at your lips, and you blurted out, “Wanna be my girlfriend?” The question slipped out before you could think, your gaze locked onto her freckled face, admiring every angle and curve, the way the warm dim light softened her expression.

Ellie blinked, caught off guard, before a playful smirk curved her lips. “I am your girlfriend,” she gave your hip a gentle swat that made you chuckle softly, the sound mixing with the quiet hum of the fan.

“Y’know…you’re right,” you mumbled suddenly. Her hand drifted to your back, scratching lightly, soothing you as your body relaxed into hers. You turned your head, meeting her soft eyes again, while something darker flashed in yours. “He fucking deserved what he got,” Your voice was low, carrying a finality that made Ellie’s breath hitch. It was all the reassurance she needed. A wide grin spread across her face, her eyes lighting up with something almost feral, a giddy kind of joy. It was a smile so genuine, so purely her, that it was impossible to resist leaning in to kiss her, your lips meeting hers in a messy, heated kiss. 

“But yeah, if you leave me I’m gonna tell on you.”

˳·˖𖤐 She had gotten clingier and more eager after that night, always looking for an excuse to touch you, to keep you within reach. Whenever you went somewhere, Ellie trailed right behind you, like a shadow that wouldn’t leave your side. And honestly, you loved it—you thrived on bossing her around, enjoying how she would drop whatever she was doing just to be with you. If the two of you were inseparable as friends before, it had only gotten worse. Not that the obsessive, morbid love wasn’t there before, but now you both let it show, with no boundaries left to be set, no rules, just whatever twisted thing you both had become together.

˳·˖𖤐 Time flew by, and soon Halloween rolled around again, your favorite holiday. Ellie knew it, too, and she didn’t even try to say no when you convinced her to tag along to a party you’d been invited to. It was supposed to be a small, “close friends only” type of thing, but you dragged her with you anyway, making it clear you weren’t going to take no for an answer. Plus, you’d been at each other’s throats lately, bickering more than usual, and she didn’t want to risk making you any angrier. It was either coming along without putting up a fight or dealing with the idea of you going solo—knowing she’d just end up following you like the little creep she was, lurking in the shadows, making sure no one even dared to touch you.

˳·˖𖤐 The party turned out to be better than either of you had expected. A few drinks in, and you both started to loosen up, Ellie sticking close, practically attached to your side with some invisible rope. It was like she couldn’t let you out of her sight, even for a second, her hand always finding its way to your back or waist, keeping you close. You danced together, swaying in the colorful, pulsing lights, your bodies brushing intimately against each other. Her eyes stayed glued to you the whole time, like you were the Holy Mary herself, and she just couldn’t get enough. You reveled in her devotion, the way her grip on your hips would tighten as you moved. It was such a turn-on.

Eventually, the party began to wind down, and it wasn’t long before it was just the two of you left with Allison and her boyfriend, Lucas. The four of you gravitated toward the kitchen, where Ellie leaned against the counter, elbows propped up on the cold granite. She played with the knives, her fingers casually tracing the handles, sliding them in and out of the block absentmindedly.

Allison scrolled through her phone, her brown eyes squinting at the screen’s dim glow. “Another guy went missing,” she announced, her voice wavering as she scanned through the article. “I bet Ghostface has something to do with it.”

“Tragic,” Ellie muttered, her tone devoid of sympathy. Her eyes remained fixed ahead, a ghost of a smirk tugging at her lips. You watched her, catching the unsettling indifference in her voice. When she noticed your gaze, she raised an eyebrow in mock innocence, daring you to question her. Instead, she shrugged. Allison went on and on about how creepy it was that Ghostface could be literally anyone, her voice holding a mix of fascination and fear. 

“I mean, think about it,” she said, eyes wide as she gestured dramatically. “It could be your neighbor, your friend, even someone you totally trust! Just wearing that mask and knife in hand, ready to strike any moment. It’s so fucked up!” As Allison thought about the countless times she had passed by potential killers, she couldn’t help but shudder in fear at her luck. How many times had she walked down a dark alleyway, taken a walk alone at night, or even trusted the wrong person? The thought of her mortality sent a chill down her spine and made her wonder how long her luck would hold out.

“Yeah, it’s scary,” you hummed, but then the conversation shifted back to the guy who had gone missing. 

“You’ve got to be dumb to get killed like that, though,” Ellie scoffed, her tone dripping with disdain. “Came all the way from Michigan just to end up dead? Pathetic. Guess all those muscles didn’t help much.”

Allison frowned at Ellie’s lack of empathy, but she shrugged it off, scrolling through her phone for more details, her thumb flicking faster across the screen. “That’s… awful,” you murmured, chewing on your bottom lip as you glanced over at Lucas, who seemed unfazed by the conversation.

Lucas noticed your look and mistook it for unease. “You okay?” he asked, genuine concern in his eyes. “Want a drink or something?”

You nodded, playing into his kindness. “Sure, thanks.”

He leaned over, pressing a kiss to Allison’s head before heading to the kitchen, leaving you, Ellie, and Allison alone in the dim living room.

“Wait—” Allison’s brows knitted in confusion, her voice soft but growing with unease. “How’d you know he was from Michigan? It doesn’t say anything about…” Her voice trailed off as she continued scrolling, her eyes flicking back and forth over the screen, trying to make sense of what Ellie had just casually dropped.

Ellie’s smile barely flickered. “Just a guess,” she replied smoothly, her gaze icy and unbothered, creeping Allison out.

You chuckled at the exchange, and Allison turned to you with a confused look. “C’mon, cheer up, Allison! We’re just messing with you. Can’t you take a joke? It’s Halloween!”

Allison’s frown deepened as she glanced between you and Ellie, her eyes clouding with suspicion. She let out a nervous laugh, trying to shake off the unsettling vibe. “You two are… really something,” she said, brushing it off, not wanting to overthink it. Maybe paranoia was just doing her dirty. Oh, if she only knew.

Ellie smirked, she leaned forward, her voice dropping low. “Oh, you have no idea,” she whispered, her tone laced with something dark and final, a warning the girl didn’t quite catch.

Lucas handed you the drink, his face lighting up with an easy smile, completely unaware of the exchange. 

“You guys wanna play a game?” you asked, grinning at Allison and Lucas. The suggestion hung in the air, deceptively playful. Allison exchanged a look with Lucas, her unease melting a bit, as if convincing herself she was just imagining things.

She forced a smile. “Sure. What kind of game?”

Ellie’s grin widened, a gleam of mischief in her eyes. “How about something… fun?”

˳·˖𖤐 Maybe it was the thrill of the game or the intoxicating rush of chaos, but after a few questions were answered and it was your turn, your eyes widened in shock as the blade pierced your stomach. Time seemed to slow down as you locked eyes with Ellie, and what you saw there sent a chill down your spine—your girlfriend’s eyes were empty, devoid of emotion—not even guilt shone in her eyes. It was like staring into a void. 

Blood poured from your mouth, warm and sticky, and panic coursed through you. When a week ago she had suggested trying something new, never did you think that would lead to this—her knife buried deep inside your insides, and blood pouring out of you like a crimson-tainted waterfall.

“W-why…?” you choked on your own blood, the words barely audible but with the stillness of the room, they seemed to echo louder. 

Allison and Lucas stood completely frozen, utterly speechless, their bodies rigid with shock as they watched the horrific scene unfold before their eyes, feeling useless and not knowing how to stop it. The crimson blood pooled out of your wound, soaking the fabric of your shirt, while Ellie’s gloves gleamed with a sinister shine. The red wasn’t so visible against the darkness of her attire, but it was there, unmistakable. 

“It was the wrong answer, babe,” Ellie whispered, her words dripping with a sickening sweetness that made your skin crawl, and the innocent faint smile on her face made Allison want to rip her hair out. 

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Allison screamed, her voice laced with disbelief, her eyes wide as she took a shaky step back.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Lucas followed, his voice tinged with a mix of fear and anger, trying to process the madness unfolding in front of him.

“YOU’RE A FUCKING MONSTER!” Allison yelled, her voice cracking as she cried, her hands shaking.

Your body hit the floor with a heavy thud, and through half-lidded eyes, you saw the panic set in as Allison and Lucas before you stopped breathing entirely. They scrambled for the door, nearly tripping over themselves. Allison’s frantic, manicured hands rattled desperately the knob, her voice shrill as she screamed for help, but the door wouldn’t budge. Locked. 

And she hadn’t locked it. She was sure she hadn’t.

Lucas, desperate to protect her, grabbed a vase from the entry table and hurled it at Ellie, the glass shattering against her shoulder with a harsh crack. It staggered her for a moment, just long enough for them to dart in separate directions, fleeing up the stairs. 

Ellie grinned, her eyes flashing with excitement as she took off after Lucas, her steps heavy but steady, savoring the thrill of the chase, like a cat chasing a mouse. She looked over her shoulder at you before she raced up the stairs. Allison stumbled into the guest bedroom, slamming the door behind her. The auburnette could hear the blonde girl breathing heavily, panicked, the creak of the floorboards giving her away as she backed into the room.

But she decided to take care of Lucas instead, having labeled Allison as the weakest between the two. She successfully cornered Lucas at the end of the hallway. He threw open the door to the master bathroom, eyes darting desperately around for anything he could use to defend himself. He grabbed a towel rack, ripping it off the wall and wielding it like a bat as Ellie advanced on him, her face lit with a twisted satisfaction. A stupid towel rack wasn’t going to stop her, and honestly, it excited her. She loved how people fought for their lives, no matter how fucked up the situation was. It was fascinating to watch, like a wild show of survival instincts kicking in. The panic, the desperation on their faces and in their actions—it was what got her heart racing and made her feel alive.

“You… you’re insane!” Lucas stammered, brandishing the metal rod with trembling hands.

He was taller, bigger, stronger—details that only made the auburnette’s grin widen, her attentive eyes narrowing with anticipation. To her, he was nothing but a challenge, one she was all too eager to take on. Ellie chuckled darkly, her eyes never leaving him as she took one slow, measured step forward. “Only now figuring that out, huh?” She took another step, her shadow looming over him as he shrank back against the tiled wall, his breaths coming in panicked gasps. He swung the metal bar, catching her arm with a glancing hit, but it only seemed to amuse her more. She couldn’t feel pain—not even the faintest pulse of her own heartbeat, completely drowned out by the surge of adrenaline flooding her veins. She felt invincible.

With a swift, practiced precision, Ellie caught his wrist, twisting it sharply until the rod clattered to the aquamarine floor. “Nice try, Lucas,” she hissed before shoving him backward, hard enough that his head cracked against the tile. He slumped to the floor, groaning, his vision swimming as Ellie towered over him. But he fought nonetheless, his hands trying to stop her from sinking the sharp knife into his throat, but it didn’t last long. He didn’t last long.

“That was stupid,” she panted, standing over his corpse, her look sharp and full of disdain. Her face was scrunched in anger, but the adrenaline flooding her veins felt incredible—like a drug she couldn’t get enough of. The thrill of it. A loud noise snapped her from her thoughts. The old wood creaked under her black boots as she headed toward the room where she’d last seen Allison hide.

˳·˖𖤐 The guest bedroom door was slightly ajar, and she shoved it open with a firm kick. Her eyes locked onto Allison, sprawled lifeless on the floor, blood pooling around her still body. Her face was frozen in horror as if she’d seen a ghost in her final moments. Her gaze drifted up—to you, standing just a few feet from Allison’s lifeless body.

“Hey, babe,” you said with a crooked smile, giving her a little wave, clearly nervous but with a spark of excitement in your eyes that made her stare in awe. She remembered that feeling all too well—the jitters, the high that followed her first time. And here you were, cheeks flushed and grinning ear to ear like the fucking Cheshire cat, looking so damn giddy as you took it all in—like a kid who had just discovered their new favorite toy. 

Trying new things had definitely been the right move, and Ellie didn’t regret it for a second, because you were practically glowing. For the first time, you felt truly alive. It hit you then, just how much emptiness you’d been carrying all these years, how you’d learned to live with that hollow feeling. But this? This made you feel whole. Euphoric. Alive in every possible way.

“How’d I do?” you asked, almost childlike, looking up at her with eager eyes, fishing for approval—her approval. It was all you needed, and it felt like trying to impress a middle school crush all over again.

“Pretty good, my love. You did great,” she praised, a hint of pride sneaking into her voice.

“Yeah?” Your eyes lit up, a satisfied grin spreading across your face.

Her gaze softened briefly, a low, amused, throaty laugh slipping from her lips as she pushed a stray lock of hair back with the back of her blood-stained glove, leaving a smudged streak of red across her cheekbone. Her emerald eyes sparkled as she took in the mess you’d created. “You know, for a second there, I didn’t think you’d go through with it. Look at you now.” Her tongue darted across her bottom lip as she looked at you up and down, ready to pounce on you any time now.

You blushed, a bit sheepish, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the floor. “What can I say? Guess you’re a bad influence,” you smirked, shrugging it off like it was nothing.

She tossed the knife aside, and you mirrored her every move, watching as she peeled off her gloves and stepped closer. Her toothy smile widened as she pulled you in, her thumb brushing softly across your cheekbone, still warm from the adrenaline rush, while her other trembling hand rested on your waist. “Oh, yeah? Gonna start blaming me now?”

“Maybe,” you shot back, eyes sparkling with mischief. 

The freckled girl leaned in, pressing her lips against yours, soft and warm and she tasted so sweet.

“Your performance down there was flawless, and your technique…” she trailed off, her eyes trailing down to Allison’s body, “Not bad for your first time. A little shaky on the left stab, but hey,” she shrugged, lips curling into a teasing smirk, knowing damn well that even the gentlest dose of constructive criticism would get under your skin, “we’ll work on it.”

You scoffed and swatted her hand away, but Ellie just giggled, her laugh soft and breathless. “Can’t believe you got that question wrong, though,” she reached up to cup your face, her thumb brushing your cheek again, she couldn’t keep her hands off of you. That familiar smug smirk tugged at her heart-shaped lips as she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a more playful one, her breath warm against your heated skin. “We’ve only watched the first Scream movie a hundred times together,” she said, almost mockingly offended, her green eyes bright with mischief, the ones that told you exactly what she had in mind. And she swore she was falling deeper for you, you had her in a chokehold.

You rolled your eyes, fighting a smile. “I only watched it because you were obsessed with it and I thought you were cute,” you admitted.

Her eyes sparkled with delight, and she raised her scarred eyebrow at you. “Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, feeling her hand drift lower to your waist, pulling you closer, you cupped her cheek, your thumb caressing her blood-stained cheekbone lovingly, staring at her enamored.

Her lips brushed against your ear, voice low and teasing. “You know what I'm really in the mood for?” Her hand slipped lower and lower until it was resting on your plush ass, giving it a suggestive squeeze.

You chuckled, pretending to think. “Pizza?”

She let out a soft laugh. “I was gonna say you, but…” She gave you that crooked, lopsided smile, shrugging playfully.

You snorted, “Oh, well, that too. I just didn’t know killing works up your appetite.”

Her smirk deepened, revealing that dimple on her left cheek you loved so much, her infatuated gaze lingering on your lips almost as if she wanted to swallow you whole. “My bad. Should’ve warned you,” she murmured, then backed you toward the bed behind you, her hands rough but confident, pressing you down as she crawled on top, her breath hot and insistent against your supple skin.

Before you knew it, she was buried deep inside you, slender, calloused fingers curling and pressing against that spot that had you whining, and your legs trembling. Her other hand gripped her switchblade, cool metal tracing up to press it against your throat, and she could feel you squeeze her fingers. “Awwhh, baby,” she taunted, voice dripping with mockery. “You keep squirming like that, and it’s gonna cost you your life.”

You choked out a laugh, though it came out breathless and shaky. “You’d cum at the sight, wouldn’t you?” You bit your lip to stifle a moan, body struggling to hold still as she kept up that relentless rhythm, her fingers stretching and curling deep inside you, making your whole body shudder. You couldn’t help but trap her arm, a weak attempt to slow her down because you knew you wouldn’t last. Not with her pressing a knife on your throat. “Fucking psycho.”

“But you love me.” She said it so matter-of-factly, her lips curling with satisfaction as she watched you nod, helpless and needy, your eyes fluttering shut as your walls clenched around her, drawing her in like you couldn’t get enough.

“Yeah, I love you! F-Fuck…” you gasped, grinding down on her fingers, desperate, craving that friction your hungry clit needed. 

Her smitten gaze drifted to the lifeless body sprawled across the room, a proud smirk tugging at her lips. “So proud of you. You did such a good job. Look at her.” She tilted your face, forcing you to take it in. “Your work.” And in her fucked up mind, she truly believed it—your work deserved to be worshiped, just like Picasso’s after he was gone. A masterpiece, painted with every kind of brutal emotion.

You let out a shaky breath, almost dazed. “Yeah, I… I did that,” you stammered, voice breaking, caught somewhere between a whimper and a sob, you could feel it, you were close already and all that praising surely wasn’t helping.

“That’s right,” she murmured, nodding as her eyes roamed over you, taking you in like she was seeing you for the first time, it made you melt. “You’re so fucking hot, god. Made just for me. Perfect for me.”

˳·˖𖤐 Maybe she was right. You felt it deep down, a truth that clung to you. A match made in hell. And as long as you had her, you’d be more than fine.

[razorsadness]

Monday morning, early, heads throbbing and fuzzy from Maker's Mark and Jameson. A healthy breakfast at the Co-Op, coffees to go, and here we are, On the Road, again.

We drove west, then south, down through Illinois, down Route 66, Illinois country rutted and seedless and tough as its own scrub oak, in and out of cloudbursts. Raindrops and bug guts splattered on the windshield. I babbled, about heart-trouble, love-trouble, and the Devil, all my dreams of Lucifer and other fallen angels. Emchy was mostly quiet, interjecting here & there to say - Hey, Jess, lookit that. Illinois pigfarming country, and the railroad lines, ley-lines of the land, running in an endless straightline south south South.

When we crossed the Big Muddy, we lit cigarettes, because that is a tradition a buddy o' mine taught me years ago - lightin' up when you cross that river. That same boy said - Seeing the Mississippi is one of the only things that makes me feel proud to be an American. I knew what he meant, I know what he meant - that river, so roiling, a snake in the landscape that could divide, conquer, swallow us all; that river, huge as longing and deadly as lust, and it just never stops.

It was to be a full moon that night - the Full Harvest Moon - and we were playing a bar called Pop's Blue Moon. It was a good sign.

Our motel was way out in Maryland Heights, a dingy La Quinta far away from the action, cos it was cheaper that way. The elevator was slow as a dinosaur and smelled of death, and I joked - La Quinta: Spanish for creepy elevator. (Y'all must've seen those stupid ads before, the ones that say La Quinta: Spanish for free Internet.) When we got in the car to drive over to the show, I had to run back to the room for something I'd forgotten, and I got turned around, all the hallways looked identical to each other, a labyrinth of beige walls and crusty carpet and ice machines. I came out on the opposite side of the building, and for a moment before I figured out what'd happened, I was so disoriented, going - Where's my car? Where's Emchy? Am I in the Twilight Zone?

Pop's Blue Moon is in The Hill, which is the Italian neighborhood of St. Louis; a strange neighborhood mostly residential with the occasional trattoria or market thrown in here and there. We rolled up to the venue, checked in with the father & son team that run the place, then went to get food at a sweet little Greek/Italian joint. Then back to Pop's, to put on our make-up and soundcheck and begin drinking. I don't think St. Louis was ready for us. The crowd was loud and rude, chattering through most of our set and throwing us the evil eye, and one meathead of a dude called me a fucking freakshow, and he did not mean that in a complimentary way, when I sidled up to the bar for another drink. Fuck them. Our drinks were cheap and stiff, and we sounded damn good. And the people who worked at Pop's dug us, and Pete Kartsounes and Greg Shocket, the bluegrass half of the bluegrass & hobo night, got what we were doing. So we played for them, and for ourselves. Greg and Pete were total sweethearts, we all kept hugging each other and sharing stories about touring and places we've lived - turned out, me and Emchy and Pete are all from Michigan - and Greg and I bonded over a nerdy love of crossword puzzles. I thought maybe the audience would be a bit kinder to Pete and Greg, as their music is more mainstream accessible, and I don't mean that as a bad thing - it's just, well, I play music that tears itself apart. I need a catchy tune like I need a bullet through the heart. No, no, the bar patrons were jerks to them, too, maybe even more so; one guy actually got up and started playing pinball right next to the stage during their set. It is hard to concentrate on listening to a pretty bluegrass tune when you keep hearing clang! beep! ding! mixed in with it. So, like we had played for them, they played for us, me and Emchy cheered and raised our lighters when they covered "Wish You Were Here," and one of Pete's songs was so thick with loss and beauty that it brought tears to my eyes. I played accordion with them for a couple songs, first the Milton Brown and His Brownies' cowtown swing of "The Blues Ain't Nothing But A Good Man Feelin' Bad," and then Bob Dylan's "Buckets of Rain." And that was a glad thing; that is one of my favorite Bob Dylan songs. Maybe it was all the whiskey n' beer we consumed, but for me that fullmoon St. Louis night, life was a cabaret, and Emchy was such a gorgeous mess. When the crowd left, the bar staff let the four of us stay for one more drink before they kicked us out, and we traded CDs and all hugged one last time, and the payment was divvied up. We didn't make a helluva lot, but some bucks is better than no bucks. Yeah, the crowd were assholes, I said, but when it comes down to it, they still had to pay to get in, and we got paid to be here.

Half-drunk, Emchy and I looped around sleepy nighttime streets with the full moon bright and bonecold above us, drove down a street of big stone houses, tree-lined, that I recognized from the first time I was ever in the Gateway to the West, and I shivered with the body-memory of the boy I was with that night, his thin, beersoaked lips on mine and his fingers tracing my safety-pin-stuck-in-my-heart tattoo and The Clash on the tapedeck. We got a little lost, eventually found our way back to the motel (La Quinta: Spanish for way the fuck outside of the city), and though it was the wee hours and we were exhausted and had a long drive ahead of us the next day...well, of course we stayed up for a couple more hours, chainsmoking and writing. We are about as smart as a cat.

[excerpt from a longer piece, written in 2008]

[aimeelouart]

How to get maximum chaos: Hey Asshole + CtS crossover.

You know I started in on that one and then promptly got sidelined by... The Adversary Fell, I think? Now there's an even more chaotic point in HA I can yeet him into, so this will probably go unwritten. Anyway, enjoy:

Cloud’s new armored outfit was great. Really⁠—it saved him so many injuries he otherwise would have had to deal with, considering a tee and a ratty cable-knit vest couldn’t exactly stop a blade. He was going to be forever grateful to Aerith and her...weird superpowered hivemind harem.

Wow. That was a weird sentence to think.

Anyway. His new armor was great and he loved it. Unfortunately it had limited utility when he was being noshed on by a huge...dragon...dinosaur thing. Something big with harder-than-steel scales and sharp teeth and a serious resistance to magic⁠, which wasn’t ideal. Extremely not ideal. He was not having a good time.

For once, Cloud was downright grateful to feel the white-hot static sear through his veins. For once, the universe was kind enough to yank him directly from the jaws of death.

Pun intended.

He was spat out upright and immediately reeled to the side, shoulder thumping into a hard wall. “That’s right, you better run,” he wheezed, raising a hand and wiping the mix of blood and monster saliva out of his eyes. His skin felt a little numb and his sight was blurred, which probably meant poison. He cast Poisona.

It did jack shit.

He banged his head against the concrete with a groan.

A handrail dug into his side. He could hear a few people—SOLDIERs, at a guess—nearby. Specifically, he could feel Sephiroth. He slid one boot to the side and found that was standing on some stairs. The Tower? A stairwell, somewhere.

“What—?”  said Hewley.

“Well now,” Rhapsodos purred. “What have we here? Cloud, is this your doing?”

“Is what my doing?” Cloud ground out automatically, unintentionally speaking in perfect synchrony with his counterpart in this new world. Whoops. Yeah, that had been a little fast for recognition, hadn’t it?

Rhapsodos made an interested noise. “Infinite in mystery is the gift of the goddess!”

Cloud shifted around enough to squint through the increasing blur at the man. “You stop that,” he said, taking in the tangle of people. Zack, who was looming protectively around his counterpart, and Hewley and Rhapsodos, and Sephiroth on the side closest to Cloud.

“Wait. Cloud?” said Zack, looking back and forth between elder and younger.

“Yes, Zack,” Cloud sighed, frowning as he felt his legs start to go numb. Ugh. “Not your Cloud, from a different dimension, bouncing between worlds, will be gone in thirteen hours, et cetera et cetera.” Considering Poisona hadn’t done anything, he estimated five minutes to collapse. He wasn’t too worried this time—not with Zack there.

The stairwell erupted in noise.

“You’re me?” said the other Cloud.

“Different dimension?” Zack asked, aghast.

“Two of you, and both conscious no less!” said Rhapsodos, clapping his hands. “Marvelous!”

“How is that…?” Sephiroth muttered, trailing off.

“What happened to you? Are you alright?” Hewley asked, ever the most reasonable and responsible of the SOLDIERs.

Mmm, Angeal leftovers, Cloud thought, drooling. He’d run out of harem Angeal’s food three worlds ago, and mourned the loss. If he managed to not die he was gonna eat well.

“Poisoned,” Cloud said, waving a dismissive hand as he leaned harder into the wall. Involuntarily.

“…why did you say that so casually,” Hewley sighed, immediately moving to close the distance between them. Cloud let him, unbothered when the SOLDIER started looking him over, and offered a shrug to his inquiry.

“Cloud…” Zack said, soft and a little wounded, and…yeah okay, that made him feel a tiny bit bad about being so casual.

“It’s fine, Zack,” he lied as Hewley turned his face and looked at his eyes. Already, the man just looked like a tannish blur, surrounded by a black vignette as the poison ate away at his vision. As soon as Hewley let go of his jaw, he shut his eyes with an annoyed huff. “Oh—before I forget.” Before I’m unconscious and can’t ask. “No one here is doing a genocide, right?”

“A what?” said…oh, Kunsel was there too. Nice.

“No,” said other Cloud and Zack, very confidently. He filed that fact away for later consideration.

“Great, love that for you,” said Cloud, words beginning to slur. Hewley caught his arm with an alarmed noise as one leg buckled and he slumped hard over the handrail. “Poisona didn’ do shit, good luck.”

“What?” several people said in alarm.

“Din’ do shiiiiiiit,” Cloud repeated. His other leg buckled, and his tongue was starting to go numb too. Asphyxiation was probably a real concern, then. That wasn’t too bad a way to go, in his experience. Although, he definitely hoped Zack didn’t watch if that was the case.

“Okay, you are definitely going to Medical,” Angeal said, as if he was daring Cloud to argue with him. He took all of Cloud’s weight and lifted him like it was nothing.

“S’long as I don’ wake up on’n autopsy table again,” Cloud agreed. Someone made a horrified noise. Whoops. Maybe the slow slide toward probable asphyxiation was making him a little loopier than he thought. Sorry, Zack!

That was pretty much his last thought before he blacked out.

[galacticspaceguy]

Season 1:

-abandoned by his mother who left him at such a young age he barely remembered her

-child of an evil overlord/king of darkness something like that

-was raised in a school meant for evil children, so he was raised thinking he HAD to be evil, like his dad

-gets kicked of his evil school and becomes homeless

-kept getting groomed by snake guy who kinda totally wanted to eat him

-got kidnapped and almost thrown in lava

-became a legendary hero and now has to kill defeat his dad

-watched his uncle get eaten by a very angry snake

Season 2:

-forced to not hang out or play with other kids his age because he had to train to fight his dad

-him and his brothers were almost eaten by a dinosaur because of said dad

-turns out his mom left him at an evil school because she knew the whole time he was this legendary hero that has to kill his dad

-forced (LITERALLY) to give up his childhood and became a older teen/adult

-his dad got possessed by their grandpas old ex

-had to fight his dad

Season 3:

-got kidnapped by grandpas ex and the purple snake groomer

-was drained of power/life

-watched dad (who’s good now) get thrown into water from a very high height

-watched one of his robot brother explode while fighting grandpas ex

Season 4:

-has to take up leader responsibilities even though he’s like 11

-finds out his dead brother is actually not dead and now has to go fight dad’s old father figure and ex in a fight club

-was betrayed by his other brother

-drained of his power again

-finds out his uncle has the hots of his mom (it’s not one sided either)

-watched his dad get turned into a snake

-had to banish his dad to the cursed realm

Season 5:

-gets possessed by his angry emo ghost cousin who hates his uncle

-almost drowns multiple times

-is forced (under possession) to fight his friends/brothers

-has to kill his dad

Season 6:

-turns so old he almost dies

-forgets everything about this season

Season 7:

-he is now a leader cause his uncle is on his death bed and no one is taking him seriously

-has to fight evil twins who hate his uncle

Season 8:

-he went through puberty (the horror)

-he liked a girl who ended up trying to drown him and resurrected his dad

-his uncle got turned into a baby

-him and his mom get kidnapped by a cult

-gets disowned by his undead father on LIVE TELEVISION

-almost died

-watches his brothers die (they r not dead don’t worry this happens a lot)

Season 9:

-has to fight undead father

-goes through depression

-girl he likes (who also got adopted by his undead dad??) dies

Season 10:

-forced to work with undead father (does not go well)

-gay brother dies and he wasn’t there

-almost dies (again)

-forced to talk to undead family members??

-his dad fucking dips

Season 11:

-literally just wants a break but his uncle went “fuck no”

-has to fight evil snake lady who’s hates his uncle

-watches his robot brother die (again)

Season 12:

-goes to unknown realm to find his robot brother

-gets a therapy dog that hates him

-robot brother turned evil for a good two episodes and tried to kill him

Season 13:

-goes through princess trauma

Season 14:

-his mom goes missing (again)

Season 15:

-watches his adopted older sister turn into the fucking ocean

Season 16:

-got so depressed he gave up being a ninja

-he’s a damn window washing wtf

-the girl he liked isn’t dead lol

-grandpas ex is back and plans to destroy everything (again)

-purple snake groomer is also back

-forced to work with undead dad (again) and undead dads new boyfriend

-thought his friends died (again)

-his home blew up (again)

-gets turned into his worst fear

Season 17:

-all the realms merge together and he loses all his friends

-doesn’t talk to anyone for years

-became a father?

PROPAGANDA UNDER THE CUT: [SPOILERS AND POSSIBLE TRIGGERS AHEAD]

ANTIGONE:

LLOYD GARMADON:

[starlessea]

Hush Hush (Daryl Dixon/Reader)

Pt 1/3. Mini-Series Masterlist

Prompt: “I’ll choose her happiness over mine every time.” Requested by @phoenixblack89​​, number #19 from this post.

Summary: You’re with someone else, but you overhear Daryl wishing you were his.

Words: 905

Warnings: Language, Implied toxic relationship.

Your mother had always told you that eavesdropping was one of the sneakiest things a person could do. At the time, scarcely nine-years-old and giddy at having overheard her conversation about christmas presents, you hadn't taken her words too seriously. Now however, you realised why she'd said them.

It wasn't so much that eavesdropping affected the person spilling their secrets, having them listened to without their knowledge, but it was the eavesdroppers themselves who often got the short end of the stick. Sometimes, hearing words not meant for you felt worse than not knowing them at all.

You bounded out of your cell with tears in your eyes, glad that everyone else had already gone to sleep. You needed to get away, so you let your feet carry you deeper into the interior of the prison, not caring where you ended up. Once again, your boyfriend had gone too far - and once again, you'd allowed him to.

The corridors seemed to wind into each other, and you became lost in a maze of stone walls you weren't yet familiar with. Your cheeks felt hot, and your skin was damp from the tears that had trickled over. You turned a corner, only to see light illuminate the shadows from a door at the end of the hall, creaking slightly ajar.

You tip-toed your way towards it, your bare feet making soft steps over the cold floor. As you got closer, you heard muffled voices filtering out through the thin crack, and pressed yourself flush against the wall not to be discovered. It wasn't intentional, but you felt you were in too deep to turn back now. So, in fear of being caught looking like you were eavesdropping, you accidentally did just that.

Someone said your name through the other side of the wall, and you flinched, thinking you'd been found out. Except, you hadn't. After a few seconds, you realised that the voices were talking about you, not to you.

"Why don't you say something to her?" The man drawled, and you immediately recognised that southern twang as belonging to deputy Grimes.

"Can't." Another man responded. "She's with that prick, an' there ain't nothin' I can do 'bout it."

You leaned closer to the door, pressing your ear against it to try and hear more clearly.

It was Daryl Dixon, and your hands trembled at his words. The way he'd said them made your heart sting, hearing him spit them out like it burned to admit them aloud. If the tears had started to dry before, you couldn’t tell now. Your bottom lip wobbled, but you stifled your whimpers as the voices picked up again.

"You're making yourself miserable, Daryl." Rick sighed, and you started to realise the gravity of the situation you'd stumbled upon. "You should at least tell her."

Your palm pressed against the cracks of the wall, almost like you were trying to claw your way through so that you could see the man's expression in return. The way Daryl had spoken crumbled your heart in a way you never realised it could break.

"Nah, I can't." He replied, as if completely rejecting the idea. "I'll choose her happiness over mine e'erytime."

It tipped you over the edge. Never before had you had someone put themselves before you - yet, Daryl had just done it so easily. He was not yours, and you weren't his, but he'd decided to treat you with more care and consideration than the man who actually held you at night.

"Do you really think she's happy?" Rick prompted, in return. "Because I think the only time I've seen her genuinely smile is with you." He admitted, and he was right.

You felt yourself smile a small, watery smile without realising - almost like you were rooting for the officer who tried to convince Daryl of his words.

"You should at least talk to her." He added, but you heard a loud crash inside the room as a result.

Something must have hit the floor heavily, like a chair or table, because whatever it was scraped against the stone and rang out into the night gratingly. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you listened to Daryl raise his voice in frustration.

"An' say what, huh?" He growled, choking on the words as he said them.

"He ain't nowhere near the man ya deserve?" He spat, sarcastically, and you felt your breath catch in your throat. "That I can hear ya cryin' damn near every night 'cos of that bastard?"

You heard footsteps pace about through the other side of the door, like they were made by heavy boots, and Daryl's voice trailed off like it had no more fight left in it.

"Or that I wish ya were mine?" He said quietly, as if speaking only to himself.

Your knees buckled and you slid down the wall - huddling in on yourself. You clutched your arms around your legs and pulled them in tighter to your chest. Your mother had told you that eavesdropping could hurt, and you finally understood why. Quickly, you brought a hand to your mouth to try and hush your sobs, but some still spilt over anyway. Even if you could stifle the cries, you couldn’t stifle your heart. Daryl wished you were his, and you only wished he would ask you to be.

A/N I really loved the dialogue in this one... Maybe a second part needs to follow.

Send me a message if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!

Tag List:

@xxboesefrauxx @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @teel-dinosaur @speakinglikeconstellations​ @bunnymother93 @alularae3 @death-becomes-her @royaleclown @alex-sulli @julesmalek @fuseburner @riverscyberwife​ @browneyes528 @julesclues @diaryofkali @solinarimoon @ssonia13 @phoenixblack89

[dwellordream]

Initial Impressions of HotD, Episode 7

be warned there are spoilers below.

i have read fire & blood, but i am not judging the show as to its accuracy towards the book, as i had major issues with fire & blood, particularly in regard to how grrm wrote the female characters and handled the Dance.

this is not an evaluation of it as an adaptation but on its own merits.

It’s cool to see the Velaryons honoring the Merling King, god of the Narrow Sea, in their funeral ceremonies. it’s very unique to them, not a Valyrian thing.

Daemon letting out a little hysterical giggle during the funeral is.... not a good look.

Jace now fully understands that Harwin is his father and is angered over his death, which makes sense as to why he has little interest in comforting Laena’s girls, since he can’t publicly mourn Harwin.

Aemond defending Helaena from Aegon’s mockery is sweet. His very blatant crush on his elder sister is.... jarring, though obviously not that shocking, given the way they were raised as Targaryen princelings. The show continues to fully lean into the notion that Helaena may have some powers of prophecy, though it leaves her friendless and lonely. 

Luke breaking down in tears about the future and losing more family members is heartwrenching, knowing what comes later on in the story.

I wish the show was not going this route with Corlys’ relationship to his children. We barely saw him interact with Laena or Laenor, and his angry denial about Laenor’s sexuality wasn’t really necessary. Fire & Blood always seemed to imply he was proud of his son and didn’t give a damn about who he was attracted to.

Viserys calling Alicent ‘Aemma’ in a moment of exhaustion and the look of shock/anger on her face....

Rhaenys wanting to essentially disinherit Lucerys in favor of Baela makes sense when her and Corlys both know damn well the Strong boys are not Laenor’s biological sons, but Corlys is willing to overlook this for the sake of appearances (and does seem to genuinely love the boys as his grandsons).

Rhaenyra admitting to Daemon that she and Laenor did consummate their marriage and attempt to conceive on their own, but without success... the show has done Laenor so dirty that I’m not sure how I feel about the writers making him out to be sterile as well.

Daemon trying to play the ‘you were just a child’ card when he both groomed Rhaenyra and went on to marry Laena (who is even younger than her, here!) is a joke. 

The entire Daemon/Rhaenyra ‘romantic’ reunion is framed so clumsily. Is it grooming or not? Are we supposed to be rooting for them? They didn’t even mention Laena’s name once in their entire discussion after the funeral. Rhaenyra was a child who Daemon had the good sense to leave alone, but Laena was free for the taking? Do the writers understand how bad this looks?

The scene of Aemond approaching the sleeping Vhagar is genuinely cool and has a great sense of scale and how massive and dinosaur like the dragons are. It would have been cool to have a parallel scene between Laena and Aemond both claiming Vhagar years apart, but Laena’s was cut... like so many others.

Baela and Rhaena waking up Jace and Luke in a panic because ‘someone stole Vhagar!’ is a genuinely sweet cousins-adventure moment... which almost immediately goes horrifyingly bad. Aemond jumps from generic bullying to legitimately threatening to kill his nephews very quickly.

Alicent refusing to believe that Aemond could have started it and claiming Jace and Luke meant to kill him is one thing, but Rhaenyra jumps at the chance to ‘sharply question’ Aemond. Then just a few minutes later, Alicent wants to mutilate Lucerys in revenge for Aemond. So really, no one’s coming out looking great here.

Alicent completely losing her shit and trying to attack Lucerys herself felt a bit over the top, but the clash between her and Rhaenyra and her explosion of rage, finally confessing all the jealousy and bitterness she feels for Rhaenyra being able to ‘do as she pleases’ was almost worth it for the character moment.... but the entire thing felt very rushed and clumsily written.

Otto all of sudden approving Alicent’s fit of rebelliousness simply because it’s directed against Rhaenyra, and not him and his plans, is pretty typical.

The show continues to do Laenor dirty, portraying him as a self-pitying, neglectful father who is more interested in his own grief than his children and wife’s safety. Having him express how he ‘hates the gods for making him as he did’ was completely unnecessary and pretty homophobic coming from writers who espouse to be progressive and wanting to improve on so many things.

Daemon arranging to fake Laenor’s death so he can run away and abandon his family.... horrible writing. Rhaenyra pretending that this will logically make her renowned and feared as a leader because many will suspect she had Laenor killed.... horrible writing. Laenor being okay with an innocent man being killed so they can have a body.... horrible writing.

This episode has been the worst of Season 1 so far. I at least enjoyed the first half of Episode 6. Here... maybe 2 scenes I liked.

[bluejayblueskies]

tying the knot

written for week one of @archivalpride for the prompts pre-canon, self-expression, affirmation, and sharing clothes jewelry!

cw for mild internalized acephobia, teasing

also on ao3! (link in source)

.

“Do you like earrings?”

Jon lowers the book he’s reading and frowns at Tim. “Sorry?”

Tim’s laptop is propped on top of Jon’s shins where they’re resting atop Tim's lap, and he’s scrolling through some website that Jon can’t quite make out. “Earrings,” he repeats, pulling up a pair and swiveling the laptop so Jon can see. “I’ve got a coupon. Buy one get one free jewelry.”

“Not like that,” Jon says, wrinkling his nose at the gaudy dinosaur dangle earrings on the screen in front of him. He tugs at one of the small silver hoops in his earlobes and says, “I don’t really change mine. I’d take them out and let the holes close up, but keeping them in is honestly less work.”

Tim hums and turns back to the screen, clicking away from the earrings and continuing to scroll. “What about rings?” He types a few things on the keyboard. “You’ve got that black one you always wear.”

“Hm?” Jon’s hand automatically goes to the thin black band on his right middle finger, twisting it absently a few times. “Oh, that’s my ace ring.”

Tim looks at the ring, forehead creased. “Those are a thing?”

“I- I mean… yeah? I guess?” Jon hesitates a moment, then takes the ring off his finger and offers it to Tim. “I got one my last year in uni. It- it’s really just for me, I don’t wear it to, er… communicate that I’m ace to other people, necessarily, though it can serve that purpose, I suppose. I just… I like it.”

Tim takes the ring and turns it over a few times in his hand. “Huh. Is this, um. Is this something that all ace people know about and… and I just missed the memo?”

“I mean, I- I don’t…” Jon trails off. He closes his book and sets it on the floor next to the couch, watching Tim fiddle with the ring. “Wait, you- you’re ace? I… I didn’t know that.”

“It’s- well, it’s not a new development,” Tim says with a small laugh, “but I never really had the word until I met you? I never minded sex, and I just thought it was normal that I never really wanted it with any particular person. I honestly thought that whole ‘look across the room and see somebody you want to take to bed’ trope was a thing that just happened in movies. Hearing you talk about being ace, even though you’re a different, uh… subtype? Than me? I don’t know, it- it made a lot of sense to me. I still had a bit of doubt, you know, since I do still like sex, but then you said that some people are sex-favorable, and… yep. Pretty sure that’s me. I did a bit of research of my own just to make sure, but I, uh, I never saw anything about ace rings, I guess.”

“Oh.” Jon watches Tim pass the ring from finger to finger, flipping it back and forth between his thumb and middle finger on his right hand. “I, er… thank you, I- I suppose. For telling me, that is.”

Tim hums. “Would have told you earlier, it just… never really came up, I suppose. Always meant to, though. You’re my best friend, and it’s not like I was afraid you’d react poorly or anything.” He flashes Jon a toothy-white smile and holds out his hand, the ring sat in the center of his palm. “The ring’s cool, though. I might get one for myself.”

Jon stares at Tim’s outstretched hand, something warm curling in the pit of his stomach. He’s not sure what, exactly, compels him to say, “Why don’t you, um. Why don’t you wear that one? At- at least until you find one that you, um. That you like.”

Tim looks surprised. “Jon, I’m not stealing your ring.”

“It’s not stealing if I give it to you,” Jon says, crossing his arms across his chest. “I want you to take it. For- for now, that is.”

Tim looks at Jon a moment more before laughing, his eyes crinkling near the corners. “Jon,” he says, closing his hand around the ring and reaching for one of Jon’s hands with the other. Jon allows his hand to be guided away from his chest, and Tim flattens his palm against Jon’s. Jon frowns at the way Tim’s hand dwarfs his by a centimeter or two, trying to ignore the way his skin tingles where it’s pressed up against Tim’s. “I really don’t think it’s going to fit.”

“You haven’t even tried it on yet,” Jon counters stubbornly.

Tim holds the hand holding the ring up in defeat, his fingers still curled into a fist around it. “All right, all right,” he says, taking his hand away from Jon’s and uncurling his fingers from around the ring. Jon ignores the way his skin grows colder at the lack of contact and watches Tim slip the black ring onto the middle finger of his right hand. It goes on until the second knuckle where it sticks, and Tim holds his hand up in the air with a smirk. “See? It’s stuck. You’ve got twiggy fingers, Jon.”

“I- I do not!” Jon sputters, ignoring the evidence in front of him that clearly indicates otherwise. “Besides, I think it looks… fine.”

“Fine,” Tim echoes, amused. He slips the ring off his finger and holds it back out toward Jon. “I’m not taking your ring if it doesn’t even fit, Jon. But thanks.”

“That’s not—” Jon cuts off with a frustrated noise. He moves his legs off Tim’s and stands, leaving Tim holding the ring with a small confused furrow between his eyebrows. “Wait here. I- I’ll be back.”

“Okay?” Tim says, and Jon nods once decisively before retreating to his bedroom. He pulls a few boxes out from his closet and rifles through them, his heartbeat nestling high in his throat and his face growing steadily warmer. This is stupid, he thinks, even as he finds what he's looking for and grips it tightly in one hand, feeling the soft give of it beneath his fingers. Tim’s going to think it’s stupid.

Taking a deep breath, Jon stands and makes his way back to the living room where Tim’s still sat, worrying the ring back and forth between his fingers and watching Jon with a fond, mildly confused smile as Jon sits back on the couch beside him.

Jon sets the ball of black yarn and pair of scissors on his lap, looks at Tim, and says as confidently as he can muster, “Hold out your hand.”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Don’t laugh at me,” Jon says sharply, his cheeks burning as he looks at Tim expectantly. “Just- just hold out your hand.”

“I’m not laughing,” Tim says softly as he passes Jon’s ring to his left hand and holds out his right, fingers splayed wide and waiting. “Promise.”

If anything, Jon’s face gets hotter at that. He clips a short length of yarn from the ball on his lap, sets the scissors down, and says, “I- I know.” He hesitates, just a moment, before wrapping the bit of yarn around the base of Tim’s middle finger and tying a crisp double knot, cutting off the ends so they’re short and uniform. He pulls his hands back from Tim’s and settles them nervously on his lap, one hand going absently to the ball of yarn and tugging at a few of the loose strands. “Just, um. U- until you can get a real ring.”

Tim looks at him, expression unreadable, and Jon looks away, embarrassment curling hotly in his stomach. “S- sorry,” he says, worrying the hem of his shirt between his fingers. “It- it was a stupid idea.” He takes the scissors in hand and holds them out toward Tim, still staring intently at his lap. “You- you can cut it off if you want.”

Tim’s fingers brush against Jon’s as he pushes the scissors gently back toward Jon. “I haven’t even said anything yet,” he says, the amusement in his voice mixed with something else that Jon can’t quite place. (Not that he’s ever been great at parsing tone in general.) “What makes you think I don’t like it?”

Jon opens and closes his mouth a few times before making an I-don’t-know noise.

“Well, I do,” Tim says matter-of-factly. “In fact, I’m never taking it off, I’ve decided. I’m taking it with me to the grave. Till-death-do-us-part.”

Jon makes a series of sputtering noises before finally landing on, “Well, I, er. I- I’m glad.”

Tim grins at him and then takes Jon’s hand in his own and slips Jon’s ring back onto his finger. Jon’s mind goes blank of all thoughts other than Tim’s hand is touching mine and Tim is very warm and Tim just put a ring on my finger.

“See?” Tim says, squeezing Jon’s hand in his for just a moment before slipping his hand down to Jon’s wrist and holding Jon’s hand up for display. “Twiggy fingers.”

Jon cuts off his thought of Tim is sitting just close enough to kiss with a scowl and wriggles his hand out of Tim’s grip, ignoring the way that Tim’s grin only widens as he does so. “They are perfectly normal-sized fingers for a man of my stature, I’ll have you know.”

“Mm, yes, I suppose you’re right,” Tim says with a put-upon sigh. “I conceded! The rest of you is twiggy as well.”

“Tim.”

“Absolutely no meat on your bones, Jonathan. Positively scrawny.”

Jon crosses his arms across his chest and frowns. He certainly doesn’t pout, and anybody who says anything different is lying. “Timothy Stoker.”

Tim laughs, his expression softening as he reaches over and takes one of Jon’s hands in his own, squeezing gently. “Oh, full-name basis. I must be in trouble.” He turns Jon’s hand over in his and looks at Jon’s ring, rubbing a thumb over it in consideration. Jon definitely doesn’t blush when he does so. “Really, though. Thanks. It… it means a lot.”

Jon looks down at their joined hands, something fluttering and light curling within his stomach. “It- it’s just yarn,” he says quietly, brushing against the knot of yarn with the tip of his finger.

Tim shrugs. “Yeah, but that’s not the point. The point is that you gave it to me, and you listened, and you cared.”

“Oh,” Jon says softly. He swallows around the lump in his throat before offering Tim a small smile that he hopes doesn’t betray the overwhelming affection blooming deep within him. “Well, you- you’re welcome, I suppose.”

Tim hums. He looks down at their hands, flexes his fingers, and says cheerily, “The yarn is nice too, though. Very soft. Definitely has some friendship-bracelet vibes.”

“Ha ha,” Jon says dryly. He leans across Tim’s lap and retrieves the computer, resolutely not thinking about the heat he can feel radiating off Tim with the proximity. Christ, he’s practically a furnace. “You said it’s buy one get one free? I’m sure you can find something.”

Tim orders a ring in the end, a thick black tungsten band, and he tacks a pair of ostentatious cat earrings onto the order despite Jon’s protests that I’m absolutely never going to wear those, Tim and yes, I like cats, but not dangling from my ears and fine, but I’m wearing them once and that’s it. And when Tim arrives at work two weeks later with the ring on his finger, the thin piece of yarn still tied alongside it as he holds his hand up proudly for Jon to see, Jon’s heart skips a beat before picking back up double time.

Oh, Jon thinks as Tim prattles on about shipping times and little silver cats with green gemstone eyes and heart-shaped ace pins, pressing one of the aforementioned pins into Jon’s hand with a grin. Oh.

Jon holds the small metal heart in his hand and looks at the yarn on Tim’s finger and knows, with absolute certainty, that he’s falling in love with Timothy Stoker. His face gets hot and he focuses on Tim’s hands, trying not to give away the fact that his heart is practically beating out of his chest like a cartoon character.

“Jon?” Tim says, placing a hand on one of Jon’s and startling him free from his thoughts. His hand is warm, Jon thinks. I’d love to hold it. “Everything good?”

“Yes,” Jon says quickly, his eyes snapping up to Tim’s face. Tim is smiling at him warmly, and Jon feels a part of himself melt. “Yes,” he repeats, his mouth curling into a small smile to match. “Everything’s great.”

“Great,” Tim echoes, squeezing Jon’s hand once before letting go. His smile turns a bit teasing at the edges, and Jon braces himself. “Now.” He pulls the earrings out of his pocket and dangles them in front of Jon. “As I recall, you did promise at least once.”

Jon is, unfortunately, falling in love with Timothy Stoker. God help him.

“Fine,” Jon grumbles, taking the earrings out of Tim’s hand and giving him a withering look. “Just once.”

Jon does, in fact, end up wearing the earrings more than once, fiddling absentmindedly with the small cats as he walks through the supermarket and stands on the tube and sits on his couch, flipping through a book. But that’s nobody’s business but his own.

[bepisconsumer]

Can you go into details about the ice age megafauna?

Oh certainly

So basically, when the dinosaurs went extinct, a huge terrestrial power vacuum opened up, and mammals were in a prime position to fill it. So they did. And they grew very large. You got your Mammoths, you got your woolly rhinoceroses, you got your sabertooths, etc. Australia even got their own very unique marsupial megafauna such as Diprotodon and the marsupial lion. My personal favorite variety of megafauna is the giant ground sloths. Despite being sloths, they were absolute powerhouses and most predators at the time stood no chance against a healthy adult. So basically we got a period of time when there's just a bunch of giant animals roaming the earth and it's beautiful. You know avocados? This is when we got avocados. That seed is way too large to fit through the digestive system of most modern animals, but it evolved alongside the giant ground sloths which is why the seed got so big. If humans hadn't found avocados, decided they liked them, and started cultivation of them then we wouldn't have guacamole today. And speaking of humans, they're almost certainly responsible for a large amount of the extinction of Megafauna in North America during the late pleistocene. The fact that they learned how to throw things meant that they could attack without being in range of a counterattack, and could take out almost any animal with a minimal amount of risk. So basically what I'm saying is, I think this raises some important questions. Why did arboreal sloths that can starve to death on a full stomach survive while the giant ground sloths didn't? Why did scientists give every name from this period the prefix of "mega-"? And most important of all, do we deserve to eat guacamole?

[tamagochiie]

pairing: timeskip!kenma x fem!reader

synopsis: You come home late from your cousin’s funeral, and though Kenma didn’t expect much from you but perhaps a few leftovers you’ve managed to steal away from the dinner, he finds you with a surprise: a sleeping child cradled around your neck and a teenage boy hovering behind you.

Your poor boyfriend wondering what in the hell it is you’re plotting…

tags: angst and fluff, time skip!, slight spoilers if you squint

warnings: mentions of death, mentions of depression, cursing

w/c: 2.2k

tagging list: @angrylittleriri​ @chims-kookies​ @gooseyhouse​

a/n: hello! welcome to the second chapter of the series! i’m posting this a little later than expected because wifi is really trying to cock block me from posting :’) i honestly wasn’t expecting people to like or interacting with this fic, so my heart is super warm right now :>  

anyway, I hope you enjoy!

happy almost new year! see you all next week!

master list

<< life as we know it | life as he’s known it >>

You wonder what the younger version of you would think if you went back in time and told her she'd be eating at a dining table filled with food that wasn't microwavable, and the air wouldn't be filled by the sound of metal clanging and scraping against each other, but instead be filled by the lilting giggles of a little boy; his older brother pressing him to keep it down; and Kenma's casual yet awkward attempt to relate to the two.

She would probably cry.

Your parents' work piled up to the late hours of the evening and spilled into the morning, leaving you in a constant state of dejection. The house would be barren, nothing but the faint ticking of the old grandfather clock to keep you company. But even if your parents were home, it would still be the same; the air cold and unmoving.

Your parents were not warm nor were they emotional, and maybe that's what drew you to Kenma; he was quiet, rarely affectionate, and gave you more than enough room to breathe. Sure, there were the occasional forehead kisses, the head pats, the 'how are you doing' texts, and sometimes if he was brave enough, he’d interlock pinkies with you in public.

But you grew selfish, finding yourself wanting a little more each time you saw him, and you weren't sure if it was okay.

Was it okay to yearn for things? 

Was it okay to ask for more?

But Kenma saw through your facade of accepting things as they are and right into your neediness. He was willing to give as long as you asked or even when you were too shy to do so. He even gave you his whole life without sparing a second thought even if the realization that he had done so came much later.

"Here, let me." Kenma slips his hands over yours, taking the plate from within your grasp to wash it in your place. He bumps his hips against yours, causing you to stumble away from the sink.

You mumble a thank you before resorting to wiping down the dishes and setting them on the rack.

You delight in his banter. He asks you about your day, stealing glances between you and the stack of dishes before him while you give him the run down. He listens to you intently, gaze wandering a little longer when he hears an exasperated sigh escape your lips, but you let him know you're just fine.

"What about you?" You ask, tilting your head and playfully moving it in front of Kenma's face, blocking him from the plate he needs to scrub. "How was your day?"

He hums, tiptoeing over you to finish the chore like the diligent little worker he is. "It was another day," You frown at him and his lack of effort to push further. He rolls his eyes, chuckling at your pouty face. "I played another trial game with Eiji—"

"And how'd that go?"

"Oh, he's absolute shit—ow!" Your slap against his arm resounds throughout the apartment, causing Yuki and Eiji's to jerk their attention towards you both. You mold your face into a look of ease, sparing them a warm smile, telling them you saw a fly.

"The hell?! I wasn't finished!" The pudding head seethes. "Sure he was shit, but he was still better than you."

The cocky grin slipping across his lips matching with his lidded eyes has you throwing your hands, erupting a series of ow's. "You're such an ass, you know that?"

"Yeah, the ass you chose." He sneers, handing you the last plate to dry.

He rubs his arm in an attempt to soothe the stinging, glaring at you begrudgingly. It takes you a while to ease back into his trust, but you do, and he picks up where he leaves off as if he wasn't in any pain  to begin with.

He tells you about his little trip to the convenience store with Yuki for his strawberry milk, and the foreign, constricting feeling that wouldn't leave his chest until they came back home. How he couldn't let go of Yuki's hand when they were in the store, and if he did, it would send him in a state of sheer panic.

"Must be your mommy instincts kicking in," You joke, and he only rolls his eyes.

He also admits inadvertently turning all your favorite whites into various shades of pinks and blues. As someone as analytical as Kenma, he was challenged by the task of separating the lights from the darks. 

You snort, earning a scowl from your boyfriend and a string of explanations to defend his case. But it isn't the mistake that makes you laugh, but rather how far you've come after a month of adjustments and an unfortunate series of events.

The first two weeks were exceptionally trying. No one spoke a word and everyone walked on eggshells. Eiji was still too shy to look at you, his responses down to a bare minimum and quieter than a whisper; Yuki cried almost all the time over every little thing, and the vein in Kenma's neck was threatening to pop every time he did.

It didn't help when you and Kenma would end your nights at each other's throats, bickering till you fell asleep. And when morning came, you'd be greeted by the emptiness from his side of the bed.

And it helped no one when the two of you would avoid each other, never crossing paths or breathing a word the moment you came home until it was too painfully awkward to continue.

Two and half hours charged with petty arguments, things of the past, and all the little things that came in between only to have finally arrived at one conclusion: You weren't parents and you weren't Akihiro-san. You were your own people and it was okay to do things differently.

Even if different meant that Kenma might call the kids by the wrong name or forget the fact he's living with someone else other than you. Even if different meant that you'll be absent-mindedly teaching Yuki a few curses to add to his vocabulary or forgetting to enroll them in school.

The truth is no one from the family was going to return your calls, and you were probably going to spend the rest of your twenties making up bedtime stories and giving pretty bad advice to someone just a few years younger than you.

Which brings you here, wearing your bathing suit as you share your bubble bath with Yuki because he wanted to play with the rubber duckies he whined and moaned at Kenma to buy for him at the store.

Lathering his hair with shampoo, Yuki's head leans against your chest, eyes gleaming beneath the bathroom lights. He beams at you, giggling at the ticklish feeling as you massage his head. He brings attention back to his ducks, making crashing sounds as he splashes them into the water.

"Is that how ducks swim?" You ask, washing away the soap from his hair. "Don't they just kinda...float around?"

He shakes his head before twisting his body to face you. He's got a tough expression plastered on; brows furrowed, his jaw clenched, eyes unwavering.

A very serious boy.

"These are special ducks," He explains, raising one to your face."These are battleship ducks."

Your lips fall to an 'o', still not picking up what he's putting down but you pretend you do.

Is this what kids are into these days?

Yuki goes on to tell you about his special ducks; something about lasers in their eyes, super special flying skills, and...echo location? You ask him if he's sure—if you heard him right, but he's as firm with his stance as he is with the death grip he has on his rubber duckies.

You drain the tub before rinsing yourselves beneath the warm water of the shower. Yuki flips his hair around, air drying himself as he steps out of the tub. You tell him to brush his teeth while he waits for you to finish rinsing.

"Hey, Oba-san," Yuki's call is muffled by the foam of the toothpaste still in his mouth. "Are you and Kenma-san married?"

You nearly fall when you slip off of your bathing suit and into your pajamas.  "Ah, no, Yuki. We're not."

"But aren't you in love?" He asks, oblivious to the sudden shift in the atmosphere, spitting into the sink and washing his mouth.

Your eye twitches and you swallow the lump in your throat before it goes big enough for you to choke and die. "Uhh, people don't always have to marry right away just because they're in love..."

"But Kenma-san said he's been in love with you for four years."

"I—Yeah, well—"

"That's sounds like a really long time, Oba-san." You can't tell if he means to sound condescending. You can't tell if your mom has awakened from the grave and possessed the young boy because she woke up thinking she had a few more things she'd like to pester you with.

"Well, Yuki," You gather the little patience you have left, taking a deep breath as you step out of the tub. The bathroom tile is cold against the soles of your feet, sending a shiver down your spine. Enough to keep you sober for trivial conversation with a six year old boy. "Love—Love kinda looks different for everyone, Yuki."

You choose your words carefully, not wanting to say anything that might confuse him.

You help him into his clothes, his hair leaving wet patches onto his his dinosaur pajamas. He listens to you intently, looking right into your eyes. "There are people marry the moment they meet—or at least after a short while—because they can't help but feel sure?” 

And you can’t help but feel flustered at your own explanation, not too sure with your words, “...and other people don't do that. Some relationships move at a faster pace and other's move a bit slower; and Kenma-san and I...we're happy with how things are right now."

He hums, nodding his head as if he understands. "Even though Eiji-san and I are here?"

"Yes, little love." You assure him with the new nickname, booping his nose. "Even though you're both here."

You grab his towel and dry his hair. You pat down the tiny puddles of water on his face and neck, noting to wipe behind his ears.

"But," Yuki mumbles through the material of the towel, swatting your hand away to to catch his breath, "sometimes people don't like different..." Yuki pushes the towel to this side, his glossy eyes meeting yours and your heart cracks. "They didn't like my dad 'cause he was different."

"H-He didn't love someone th-that looked like y-you..." Yuki bites down on his bottom lip, keeping it from quivering and fixating his eyes onto the tiles of the floor to prevent himself from choking on his words. "H-He...He loved someone that look like Kenma-san."

You understand what he means. You know full well. Their father was gay and because of that, your family ostracized him without wasting another breath. As if it was easy as blinking.

You knew what their father had been going through, you had enough time to help, yet you stood idle, doing nothing but add to his loneliness.

You kept all the sunshine Akihiro-san shared with you during your bluest days, even when it had been so obvious he needed it more than you.

But not once did you ever think about returning a sliver of it. And you wonder maybe if you hadn't been so selfish and naive, a silver lining would've been enough to avoid something as painful as this.

Instinctively, you pull him close to you, threading your fingers through his still damp hair. You shush him and press kiss on the crown of his head as his petite figure trembles in your arms. You let him sob into your shirt, his fingers twisting the material in anguish.

And it breaks your heart that a little human like him would not only know the meaning of anguish, but how it feels to have it tear through his heart.

It takes a few moments for Yuki to catch his breath and for you to ease him. He slumps onto you as he regains his strength. You tell him you're sorry because you are and because you don't know what else to say.

You try to use his strawberry milk and his brother as an incentive to keep him from crying again. And after a few minutes it works.

You trail closely behind him when he walks out of the bathroom. He begins to run when he gets closer to Eiji, the  pitter patter of his wee little feet carrying in the apartment.

You watch as Yuki thrusts himself forward into the arms of his brother, and Eiji doesn't fail to catch him. The sight before you leaves you gawking in silence, watching Eiji unravel into his big brother form as  he lifts Yuki to the ceiling, playfully sniffing his under arms, the crook of his neck, and even his little bum before complimenting him, "Good job, you smell just like flowers."

His giggles float in the air, swarming around the apartment as if he hadn't been crying just a few minutes ago.

And as you watch the scene unfold do you  decide to step out of the sidelines, using this warm moment shared between the boys as your driving force to keep the last of your cousin's light safe.