#get these goddamn shackles OFF ME

[pixlerelish]

Good thing there are multiple episodes of Futurama that take place in an insane asylum. I'll have so much material to work with.

I guess tomorrow I find out if I still DO have a job though. What are you gonna do with me then? If I have nothing stopping me from having access to my computer 24/7?

I really hope you get to keep your job?? not just for your sake but for our sanity as well

[harknessxo]

Paring: Serial-killer!Stalker!Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: Agatha finally has you to herself but things get a little bit complicated.

Warnings; kidnapping, knife kink, blood kink, mommy kink, dub-con, fingering, strap on use, bondage, choking, Stockholm Syndrome.

Word Count: 5.3k

Part 1, Part 3

A/n: Here’s part 2!!

After many hours you finally started to stir awake. When you opened your eyes a sudden rush of pain striked through your head. You held your head, closing your eyes again trying to lessen the pain. Once the pain had calmed down you opened your eyes again and found yourself on a bed that wasn’t yours. You frowned, confused on where you were and right then the memories of the night before came back to you.

You slowly sat up in bed, your head still throbbing from the pain. You looked around the room, trying to make sense of your surroundings. It was a dimly lit room with a few pieces of furniture scattered about. You were alone, but you knew that Agatha was somewhere nearby. You got out of bed, your legs feeling weak and unsteady. You tried to remember what had happened, but the memories were hazy. As you tried to walk closer to a window to look outside, you felt a cold piece of metal wrapped around your ankle. You looked down to find a shackle on your ankle, making your heart drop.

“I know. It isn’t exactly what I wanted but I couldn’t have you running away from me,” a voice said from behind you. You slowly turned to find Agatha leaning against the room door.

“What- Where am i?” Your voice trembled.

“You’re home. And don’t worry, no one can hear you here. I made sure of it,” she said, taking a step closer to you.

“The police will be looking for me as well as you,” you stepped back and far as the shackle allowed you.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m always three steps ahead of them. No one will find you here. And even if they did, they wouldn’t be able to take you away from me. You’re mine now.” She said, her voice firm and possessive. She took another step closer to you, closing the distance between you two, making you flinch.

“Why…” you swallowed the lump in your throat, “Why did you kill Wanda?”

“Because she was trying to steal you from me,” she said, her voice dripping with venom, “She was so goddamn clingy to you, acting like you belonged to her. It drove me crazy and the thought of her having you for herself was something I just couldn’t allow.”

“She was my best friend!” You shoved her off out of anger, tears running down your face. She stumbled back slightly, a look of surprise crossing her face before her expression turned to anger.

“She wasn’t good enough for you! No one is good enough for you! Only I am good enough to have you!” She raised her hand and grabbed your chin tightly, forcing you to look at her.

“Ah!” you groaned, her grip on your chin painful.

“You need to understand, sweetheart. You belong to me and only me. I’ll carve my name on your chest with the knife I used to kill Wanda if necessary. I won’t let anyone take you away from me, not even your precious little ‘best friend’. I did what I had to do to keep you safe and with me.” She said, her voice low and menacing.

“You’re fucking insane!”

“I’m not insane, I’m just a woman who knows what she wants and will do anything to get it. And what I want is you. So you better get used to being mine, because you’re not going anywhere.” She said, her grip on your chin tightening even more.

“You’re hurting me!” you gripped onto her wrist. She let go of your chin and grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head.

“And you’re being a bad girl. I told you to behave.” She said, her eyes narrowing at you.

“Why did you kill all those women?” You suddenly asked.

“I killed them because they looked like someone who did me wrong in the past. I knew it was wrong to kill all those women but I just couldn’t help myself. I needed someone to take my anger out on. You were actually going to be one of my many victims,” she leaned closer, her breath warm against your skin, “But I didn’t expect to actually develop a real fascination with you.”

“Are you gonna kill me now?”

“I was but I couldn’t just kill you. You’re special. You’re different from the others.” She said, her voice softening slightly as she looked at you. You let her press her cold lips against your neck as you tried to process everything. She kissed and nibbled on your neck, her lips trailing up to your ear.

“You're finally mine. You could be my wife.” She whispered, her breath sending shivers down your spine.

“Your wife?” You mumbled.

“Yes, my wife. I want you to be mine in every way possible. I want to claim you as mine and only mine. I want to make you mine in every way a man and a woman can.” She said, her voice low and possessive. She pulled away from your neck and looked at you with a hungry look in her eyes.

“Agatha?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” She said, her voice soft as she looked at you with an intense gaze.

“Please let me go-”

She shook her head in disappointment, roughly letting go of your wrist and stepping away from you in frustration. You began to sob, sliding down the wall until you were sitting on the floor, hugging your legs. She let out a deep sigh and knelt down in front of you, her expression now softer.

“You’re so pretty when you cry,” she moved her hand closer to your face. You closed your eyes tightly as she moved her hand to wipe a tear away.

“Agatha, I’m scared.”

“I know you are, sweet girl. But you don’t have to be scared. I won’t hurt you, I promise.” She said, her voice gentle as she cupped your face in her hands and gently wiped away your tears.

“Please I won’t tell anyone-” she laughed at your empty promise.

“Now we both know that’s not true. It hurts that you would lie to me. You’re a smart girl, you’ll tell the police and they’ll come after me. And I can’t have that.” She said, her tone becoming serious again.

“You can’t keep me here forever!”

“Oh, but I can. And I will. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you here with me. Even if it means keeping you locked up forever until you learn to love me.”

“Love you?” you stood up, “You killed my best friend! I hate you!” Without thinking, you took the closest thing to you and threw it at her. The object hit her square in the chest, knocking her back slightly. She stumbled backwards with a masochistic look on her face.

Your eyes widen when you realize what you did. You were about to apologize but she tackled you on the bed, holding you down, making you scream bloody murder. She straddled your hips and grabbed your wrists, pinning them down on either side of your head and pulled her pocket knife, pressing it against your throat. She looked down at you with a dangerous glint in her eyes.

“Now, now. Is that any way to treat me? That wasn’t very nice…”

“I’m- I’m sorry…” you stuttered out, scared of what she would do next with the knife in her hands. She leaned down and pressed her body against yours, her breath hot against your ear.

“That’s a good girl. You need to learn some manners. No throwing things at me or trying to attack me. Understand?”

“I…I understand.” She smirked and nipped at your earlobe, her grip on your wrists loosening slightly. She trailed the tip of the knife down your throat to your collarbone.

“What are you gonna do to me?” You asked, not knowing if you actually wanted the answer. She chuckled and ran the knife down to your chest, the cold metal sending shivers down your spine.

“Oh, I have so many things in mind, darling. I could hurt you. I could punish you. I could make you mine in ways you never thought possible.”

“You s-said you wouldn’t hurt me-”

“I changed my mind.” You inhaled, holding your breath as she ripped through your shirt with the knife, clenching your eyes tightly. She cut through your shirt, revealing your bare chest. She traced the knife along your skin, admiring your body.

“You’re so beautiful. I can’t wait to mark you as mine.” She pressed the cold metal tip against your nipples, making you whimper. She smirked and watched your reaction with intense fascination. She ran the blade gently over your nipples, enjoying the way they hardened under her touch.

“Does that feel good, darling? The cold metal against your sensitive skin?” You didn’t respond, too focused on your breathing, fearing any movement would cause her to nick you. She chuckled in amusement and leaned down, her breath hot against your skin. She gently nipped at your neck, her teeth grazing your skin.

“You’re being so quiet. I like it when you make noise. I want to hear you scream my name.”

“I…” You felt breathless. She pulled back and looked at you with a smirk, the knife still pressed against your skin.

“Go on, say it. Say my name.”

“No.” You refused. Her expression darkened and she pressed the knife harder against your skin, just enough to draw a little bit of blood.

“You’re so bratty. Say it. Now.” She demanded.

“Ah! Agatha!” You cried out in pain. She smiled at your agony, satisfied with your response.

“Good girl. See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She leaned down and licked the blood from your skin, her tongue tracing the cut.

“It hurts-” You moaned in pain as she licked over the cut. She smirked at your moan, enjoying the sound of your pain. She continued to lick and kiss the cut, her tongue moving up to your neck.

“You taste so good, darling. I could get addicted to this.” She looked at you, wiping some blood from her lip with her thumb.

“Please…” You begged, not knowing what for. Her gaze darkened again as she looked at you with a hungry look in her eyes.

“I love to hear you beg,” she pressed the bloody tip of the knife on your collarbone, “Say it again.”

“Please, Agatha.” Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she continued to trace the knife down your chest, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.

“That’s better. You’re learning. But I want more. I want you to beg for me to touch you. Beg for me to make you feel good.” You closed your eyes tightly, tears running down your cheeks. You didn’t want to please her but deep down you actually did. During the time you spent together you had managed to feel something for her.

“Please touch me, Agatha.”

“As you wish,” she licked your tears before kissing down your body, putting the knife next to you on the bed. Her grip on your wrist had loosened and you took the opportunity to free yourself and take the knife. You pushed her off and stood up, shakily pointing the knife at her while covering your breast with your other arm.

Agatha stumbled backwards, a bit surprised by your sudden action. She held her hands up in a gesture of surrender, but her expression was of amusement.

“Well, well, well. Look who’s being feisty now.”

“Let me go.” You said trying to sound confident. She chuckled at your failed attempt and took a step closer to you, unfazed by the knife pointed at her.

“You’re so cute when you try to be tough. But we both know that’s not going to happen.”

“Don’t take a step closer!” You wielded the knife at her. She raised an eyebrow, amused by your warning. She took another step closer, her eyes locked on yours.

“Or what? You’re going to stab me?” she laughed, “Just give me the knife before you hurt yourself badly.”

“No-“ You were cut off by her taking the knife from your hand, bending your arm behind your back and bending you over the edge of the bed.

“Now, now. I thought we had an understanding. You were doing so good…” she fake pouted, taking off her belt and tying both your arms behind your back.

“I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt me!” You sobbed. She chuckled, making sure your wrists were tightly secured.

“Oh, I won’t hurt you. At least not in the way you think. But you need to learn to behave, hon. And I think I know just how to teach you.” She started pulling your pants down.

“No!” you squirmed against her, “Please!” She held you down firmly, not letting you move.

“Shh, just stay still for me.” She finished pulling down your pants and ran her hand over your exposed skin. Her hands against your skin made your body tremble. She smiled as she felt you tremble beneath her touch. She ran her hands up and down your thighs, her touch light and teasing.

“You’re so sensitive, angel. I can feel you trembling under my hands. Do you like it when I touch you like this?” She whispered into your ear, her body flushed against yours.

“N-no-”

“Liar,” she chuckled, slowly trailing the knife from your waist to the band of your panties, “Your body betrays you, my dear. I can see how much you’re enjoying this. The way your skin flushes, the way your breath hitches. You’re trying to deny it, but deep down you want this,” she snapped the string of your panties, making the fabric fall down your legs. Your breath hitched when the cold air hit your dripping core, making you shiver slightly. She smirked as she saw your reaction, noticing the wetness between your legs.

“Would you look at that. You’re already so wet for me. I haven’t even touched you properly yet.” She ran her finger along your folds, teasing you. You buried your face into the mattress, ashamed of how your body was betraying you. She chuckled and leaned down, her breath hot against your ear.

“Don’t hide your face, sweet girl. I want to see you. I want to see the look on your face as I touch you. You can’t hide how much you want this.” She continued to tease your folds, slowly circling your clit.

“Hmph…”

“Come on, baby. Don’t be so stubborn. Just admit that you want this. That you want me to make you feel good.” She increased the pressure on your clit, rubbing it in slow circles.

“I…I want you to make me feel good.” You finally gave in. She smiled, satisfied, finally winning your body over.

“That’s a good girl. I just want to make you feel good, angel,” She continued to rub your clit, her other hand gently caressing your thigh, “Tell me how it feels. Tell me how much you want me to touch you.”

“F-fuck Agatha!” She almost moaned when she heard you moan her name, her fingers moving faster inside you.

“That’s it, baby. You’re doing so good.” You felt yourself getting closer to the edge, your nails digging into your palms as you tried to even out your breathing. She felt your walls clenching around her fingers letting her know you were getting closer. She leaned down, her lips against your ear again

“Are you gonna cum, already?” She teased as you gasped for air, “Let go. I want to feel you come undone around my fingers,” she curled her fingers inside you, hitting your g-spot ever so perfectly. You came almost instantly, your juices gushing out into her fingers, your vision going white. She watched as you came, a satisfied smile on her face. She continued to pump her fingers in and out of you, helping you ride out your orgasm.

“There we go. Such a good girl,” she praised, slowly pulling her fingers out of you. You whined when she pulled her fingers out, suddenly feeling empty. She chuckled at your whine, bringing her fingers to her mouth and licking them clean.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll fill you up again soon. Now I’m going to untie you and you’re not going to do anything stupid, isn’t that right, sweet girl?” You nodded your head, too tried to say anything. She smiled and untied the belt that was holding you in place, letting it fall to the floor. She gently rubbed your wrists, massaging the red marks that the belt left behind.

“So obedient,” she pulled your head back by your hair, “How good was it?”

“So g-good-” you mumbled pathetically. She kissed your cheek and loosened her grip on your hair, letting you rest your head on the bed.

“I know, baby. You were so good for me. I’m going to give you a reward.” She took off the shackle around your ankle before flipping you into your back. You let her treat you like her doll as she positioned your body however she pleased. She smiled as she looked down at you, admiring your body. She spread your legs apart and knelt between them, her hands on your thighs.

“You’re so beautiful like this. Spread out for me, completely at my mercy,” her hands moved up to cup your breast, “I’m going to fill you up nice and full just you wait,” she started to get up, “Now stay still and look pretty.” She moved away from you and walked over to her dresser, opening the top drawer and rummaging through it. After a moment, she pulled out a strap-on.

“What’s that?” You asked, your vision a bit blurry. She held up the strap-on, biting her lip.

“It’s a little gift for you, angel. Something to fill you up and make you feel even better than my fingers did.” She slowly took off her clothes as if to give you a show. You could only stare, mesmerized by her beautiful toned body. She could see the look of awe on your face as you watched her undress, a shit eating grin still on her face. She strapped the strap-on around her hips and walked back over to the bed, standing over you.

“You like what you see, sweetheart?”

“Mhm…” you hummed and she leaned down, her face inches away from yours.

“You’re being awfully quiet. Where did that bratty mouth go?” You flushed, embarrassed.

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed. I love it when you’re feisty. It’s so much more fun to break you.” She chuckled, her eyes roaming over your body. She picked up a fluffy pillow and placed it under your hips.

“Are you comfortable, sweet girl?”

“Yes.

“See?,” she said, positioning herself between your legs, “If you behave, mommy can be nice,” She ran her hand along the strap-on, coating it with your juices.

“Mommy? How did you-” She chuckled and placed her hand on your thigh, rubbing small circles with her thumb.

“Oh, baby, I know everything about you and you’re so perfect.” You tried to say something but she quickly shushed you.

“Shh, don’t you want mommy to fill you up?” She moved her hips forward, the strap-on pressing against your entrance. You were quickly to nod your head.

“That’s my girl,” she put your legs over her shoulders, “I want you to keep your eyes open for me, okay? I wanna see you fall apart.” You obeyed her order, keeping your eyes on her as she slipped the strap inside you. It felt like heaven as she entered into you, your mouth open with a silent moan. Agatha nearly came by the mere sight of your greedy cunt eating her strap.

She let out a low moan as she watched the strap disappear into you, the base pressing against her clit ever so perfectly.

“God, you’re so perfect. You’re taking me so well, baby girl.”

“Mommy!” You moaned out. She groaned at the sound of you calling her that, her grip on your thighs tightening.

“Say it again,” she said, slowly pulling the strap out and thrusting it back in.

“Mommy…” She started to pick up the pace, her hips snapping against yours with each thrust. She leaned forward, her body pressing against yours.

“Good girl, you’re doing so good for mommy. You’re such a good little slut,” she wrapped her hand firmly around your neck making you feel like you were in cloud 9. The only sounds heard in the room were of your skin slapping and the wet noise your pussy was making. Agatha looked down at where your bodies connected and noticed the belly bulge that formed every time she thrust inside you. She let out a low moan at the sight of the bulge, her hand squeezing your neck ever so slightly.

“You feel that, angel?” she moved your hand down to your tummy, “That’s how deep in your guts mommy is.”

“M-mommy-” you whined.

“What is it baby?” she thrusted her hips roughly, “is it too much?”

“Yes- too- too much,” you gasped out, wrapping your hand around her wrist. Agatha smiled, not relenting on her brutal pace.

“Do you want me to stop?” She tightened her grip around your neck, squeezing harder. When you didn’t reply she laughed.

“You’re so greedy. You want mommy to keep using you like this, don’t you? You like when mommy is rough?”

“Please mommy?” You pleaded and she leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear.

“Please what, baby? Use your words.”

“Harder-” She chuckled darkly, her hips slamming into you harder than before.

“Is that better, angel?”

“Fuck- yes!”

“Such a dirty mouth,” she nipped at your earlobe, “Maybe I should punish you for that.”

“No, no, no- I'm sorry. Please don’t stop.” You begged desperately.

“I wasn’t going to stop anyway.” She chuckled darkly, keeping her torturous pace. Her other hand kept rubbing your clit and soon you came on her strap. She slowed her pace as you came, her hand still on your clit. She watched your face as you came undone, her own arousal growing.

“That’s it, baby girl. Let go for mommy.” Her thrust became sloppy and she chased her climax. She was getting close, her hips grinding against yours. She was so focused on her own pleasure that she didn’t care to notice how overstimulated you were. You squirmed and whine under her, your legs shaking from the overstimulation. She grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, holding you down.

“Be still, baby. I’m almost there.”

“But-”

“No buts. I’m gonna use you until I cum, and you’re going to take it.” She growled, her grip on your wrists tightening. The base of the strap kept rubbing against her clit until she finally came and in the process making you come a third time. She let out a loud moan as she came, her hips stilling against yours. She panted heavily, trying to catch her breath as she rode out her orgasm.

“Fuck, baby. Did you come again, sweet girl?” She panted out.

“Yes, mommy…” you muttered out. She let go of your wrists and slowly pulled out of you, watching as her strap came out.

“Good girl,” she laid down beside you, her hand running through your hair, “You took me so well,” she patted your pussy, chuckling when you clenched your thighs together.

“Sensitive, aren’t you?” her hand resting on your thigh.

“Mhm..” you buried your face into the valley of her neck. She chuckled and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close.

“Poor baby, too sensitive to even speak.”

Suddenly there was a noise of someone bursting through the door of the house. Agatha was the first to get up.

“Mommy? What was that?” You asked a bit scared.

“They are here to take me, baby.” She explained while getting dressed.

“Take you? No! I don’t want them to take you!” You said desperately.

“I know, sweet girl,” she kissed your forehead while handing you a shirt, “Put this on for me.” Just as you finished putting the shirt on a S.W.A.T. team barged into the room, screaming at Agatha to show her hands and get on her knees.

“No!” You screamed, trying to get to her but one of the officers held you back, “Let me go! Aggie!”

“Shh,” she shushed you as they roughly put her in cuffs, “Everything is going to be okay.”

“I don’t want you to go away!” You sobbed, punching the officer’s chest.

“Calm down.” The officer ordered as he tightened his grip on you, struggling to keep you from hitting him. You managed to free yourself from his hold and ran towards Agatha, clinging to her for dear life. She was moved away from you, and the cops held her back from you.

“It’ll be okay, I promise.” She managed to say to you as she was being pulled away. You fell to your knees, crying as they took her away. She was forced out of the room, the last thing you saw of her was her being dragged away by the police.

The officers allowed you to get dressed before taking you to the station so they could ask you questions about Agatha. You sat in the interrogation room, waiting for someone to come in and ask you questions. The room was cold and uncomfortable, making you shiver. After about ten minutes the detective that had been on the case of the Angel of Death finally came into the room. Tyler Hayward. He sat down across from you, his gaze stern and cold.

“So you’re the latest victim of the Angel of Death.” He stated bluntly.

“I’m not her victim.” You said firmly. He raised an eyebrow at your statement.

“Oh really? Then why were you with her? Were you her accomplice?”

“No. Of course not-“ He cut you off as he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.

“Then why were you there with her? What’s your relationship with her?”

“…she kidnapped me.”

“She kidnapped you? And you didn’t try to escape?”

“She did it to protect me-”

“Protect you? How exactly does kidnapping you protect you?” He scoffed, clearly not believing you.

“Because she loves me.”

“Love?” he laughed, “She’s a serial killer. How can you be so sure that she loves you? She killed your best friend-”

“She did it for me! For us!” She slammed your hands on the table. He looked at you, unfazed by your sudden outburst.

“Us? What do you mean ‘us’?”

“So me and her could live together in peace.” He shook his head.

“You’re delusional. You can’t honestly believe that a psychopath like her would want to live a peaceful life with you.” He shook his head.

“Don’t call her that.” You said angrily.

“And why is that? That’s exactly what she is. A cold-blooded killer who has no regard for human life.”

“Stop it!”

”You need to realize that you’re in denial. She doesn’t love you, she just wants to use you for her own sick pleasure.”

“You’re lying! She wouldn’t do that!” He slammed his hands on the table, causing you to flinch.

“Open your eyes! She’s manipulating you. She’s a master manipulator and you’re just another one of her victims.”

“Screw you, Hayward! I want to go home!”

“You can’t go home. You’re under police custody until we figure out what the hell is going on.”

“Then I want to see Agatha.”

“No can do. She’s not allowed to have visitors.”

“I won’t say another word.”

“Fine, have it your way,” he stood up and walked toward the door, “Your friend, Monica is here to see you.”

“Monica?” You asked with a hopeful voice. He nodded, opening the door and motioning for Monica to come in. She came in running towards you, giving you a big hug.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, Y/n. I was so scared when I went to your house and didn’t find you there.”

“I’m okay, Monica.” you pulled away, smiling at her.

“Did she do something to you?” She sat down next to you, holding your hand.

“What?” you frowned, “No. She would never hurt me.” She looked at you with a worried expression.

“Y/n, she killed Wanda-“

“So what?” You stood up angrily. She looked taken aback by your sudden outburst.

“So what? She’s a killer, Y/n! She doesn’t deserve to live!”

“No! She loves me!” Monica stood up as well, her voice growing more desperate.

“You can’t seriously believe that! She’s just using you, can’t you see that? She doesn’t care about you, she only cares about herself!”

“What would she even use me for?!”

“I don’t know, maybe she wants you to help her kill more people or something. She’s a psychopath, Y/n. She doesn’t think like we do.”

“Don’t call her that!”

“Why do you keep defending her? Can’t you see that she’s dangerous?”

“Not to me.” You said simply.

“God, she has you brainwashed…” Monica shook her head.

“No she doesn’t!”

“Okay,” she said simply, “I have to go. I’ll see you when they finally let you go.” You frowned again at her sudden change of demeanor but nodded either way. Monica gave you one last hug before leaving the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Hayward was still watching you from the other side of the room, his expression unreadable.

They left you in the room for hours. You were starting to lose your mind, banging at the door begging for them to let you see Agatha.

“Please! I just want to see her one last time!” You cried out while dropping to your knees in front of the door, defeated. A few seconds later they finally opened the door and you scrambled to your feet.

“You get eight minutes with her.” Hayward said, irritated. He led you into another interrogation room where they were keeping Agatha. When they opened the door and you nearly tackled her to the floor with a hug. Hayward took the opportunity to leave the room, locking the door behind him. Agatha stumbled back slightly from the force of your hug but quickly wrapped her arms around you in return. She held you tightly, her grip almost desperate.

“Oh my sweet girl. Are you alright? Did they hurt you?”

“No, mommy, I’m okay. They are trying to make me hate you and I don’t like it.” She pulled away slightly to look at you, her expression a mixture of relief and anger.

“Those bastards. They’re trying to turn you against me. Don’t listen to them, baby. They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“I don’t want them to take you away from me.” You sobbed as she held you tighter, rubbing your back soothingly.

“Shhh, shhh. They won’t take me away from you, baby. I promise. Look at me.” She pulled away and held your chin up.

“I’m not going anywhere. You’re mine remember?,” she leaned closer to your ear, “Take this,” she whispered, handing you a brooch you’ve seen her wear all the time, “Keep this safe for me, okay? Act like nothing happened and I will find you, how does that sound?”

“For how long?” You whined.

“A week a at most-”

“A week?”

“I need you to be patient, sweet girl,” she chuckled , brushing a hair out of your face, “Don’t you want to live with me forever?” You looked down at the brooch before pulling Agatha into a kiss. She returned the kiss, her hands gripping your hips as she deepened it. She pulled away reluctantly after a few moments, resting her forehead against yours.

“Remember, just act normal and be patient-”

“Times up!” an officer interrupted, “Let’s go Y/n. You can go home now.” You looked back at Agatha, giving her one last kiss before you were dragged out.

Taglist; @polaris-likethestar @wandasreallover @oh-no-bummer @phixiesworld @eliscannotdance @venomhimbo @aka-patsy @scoliobean @chlondykebar @p-taryn-dactyl

[percheduphere]

CONSIDER:

Mobius gets shot on the field. The Avengers have apprehended Loki believing he's the reason behind the attack. They place magic-dampening cuffs around his wrists. Loki begs to see Mobius. Thor senses there is something different about Loki. He convinces the Avengers to acquiesce. They agree but only with their supervision. Loki approaches Mobius's bedside in the hospital. He takes Mobius's right hand into both of his, squeezing his fingers. Mobius's eyes flutter. He wakes.

LOKI: Mobius!

MOBIUS: (smiling) Nice to see you, too. Jeez, and I thought pruning felt-- (His eyes drop to their joined hands.) --wait, are those CHAINS?

LOKI: Well ...

MOBIUS: Why does this always happen to you? Why are you always someone's hostage? You wear shackles like candy bracelets! Does it hurt? Are you okay?

LOKI: Am I okay? Mobius. You were shot!

The Avengers' eyes bounce between Loki and Mobius.

MOBIUS: And as you can see, I am already receiving proper medical attention. You on the other hand--

LOKI: Oh, please. This is all for show to make those idiots feel safe. You're the one who's lost over a liter of blood!

MOBIUS: Which is currently being replaced by this handy-dandy IV line! Loki. You've been carrying the multiverse on your back for the last, what? Four, five eons now? When was the last time you felt comfortable?!

LOKI: That is different. I am a--

MOBIUS:--God? Really? I had no idea! Y'know just because you have a high pain tolerance doesn't mean you're supposed to tolerate the pain! (He peeks over Loki's shoulder, making eye contact with Bruce Banner) Excuse me? Hi, hey, you must be Dr. Banner. Pleasure to meet you. Listen, could you do me a favor and remove those, please?

LOKI: You're impossible. I'm calling the nurse.

MOBIUS: While you're at it, ask her to get a goddamn ice pack for your goddamn wrists!

LOKI: URGH! I am good now and I will not be damning anything! (he stomps off)

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: Tommy navigates through processing Lizzie's news and what it might mean for his relationship with Lucy.

Word Count: 7,755

Notes: I hope you all don't mind this chapter being longer than I usually make them. I couldn't really find a good place to cut it in half, and there wasn't much that I could cut out, either. Poor Lucy has the lowest self esteem in the entire world. Warnings for depictions of pregnancy, angst, jealousy, smut, and references to abortion.

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Chapter 18: Seemingly Incurable Sadness

Tommy’s hands squeezed tight around the steering wheel, fighting to ignore the way that his lungs burned for a cigarette. His stomach churned with anxiety, mind still reeling.

The awkward silence between him and Lizzie stretched on and on within the confines of the car as he drove them through the winding streets towards her lodgings. Her words from when they’d spoken in his office still rang in his head. 

“Yes, it can only be yours.”

“I’m keeping it.”

“A baby. A little you and me.”

His throat felt suddenly intensely dry. He wanted to slap himself.

Fucking hell, the one goddamn time he doesn’t pull out…

He’d been too lost in memories of Greta during that time between him, Lucy, and Lizzie down by the canal. It had not even occurred to him until later that he had failed to take necessary precautions. 

He let out a small, harsh sigh. An internal scream was sounding in his head, hoping that somehow this was all a nightmare he would wake up from at any moment. He didn’t want to have a baby with Lizzie. He didn’t want to be shackled to her for the rest of his life.

But it wasn’t like he was going to force her to get rid of it.     

He would buy her a house. He would be involved in the child’s life. He would support her financially–he certainly could afford to. But outside of that, he had no intention of committing anything deeper to her. 

The last thing that he wanted was to give her yet more hope that something was ever going to happen between them. 

He couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Lizzie had been expecting him to drop instantaneously to one knee with a marriage proposal the very moment that the announcement of her pregnancy left her lips. 

Pulling the car over against the curb directly in front of Lizzie’s lodgings, he killed the engine, half hoping that she would just get out and leave him alone without another word. 

He needed some time to himself, to properly collect his thoughts. 

“Would you like to come up?” Lizzie asked, voice soft. 

“No.”

Still, she made no move to get out of the car. “What will you tell Lucy?” she finally asked, and Tommy had to suppress a wince at his lover’s name, guilt roiling within him so violently that for a moment he thought it might make him sick. 

It had been the very first thought that had come to him, after the initial shock had worn off and he was left with the weight of the reality that Lizzie had just dumped at his feet: Christ, what am I going to tell Lucy?

He had fucked up. Colossally so. Sure, Lucy had been there in the canal too, but she wasn’t the one who’d gone and accidentally impregnated Lizzie while knowing better than to not be so careless. That was all him.

And now he had to go tell his sweet, wonderful girlfriend that he’d gone and knocked up someone else. 

Again.  

At least with Grace, the three of them had been in love. They’d wanted to be together. This time around was different entirely.

“I’ll tell her the truth,” he said softly, clearing his throat. Anxiety twisted in his chest at the mere thought, despite his attempts to talk himself around it. To remain optimistic. He had no intention of leaving Lucy. Things could still remain as they were, between them. 

Now, if she left him, that would be another story. He didn’t think that she would, but, well…

He wouldn’t blame her, if she did. 

“I feel sorry for her.”

His brows knit together in confusion, something in Lizzie’s tone sending alarm bells off in his head. It did not sound like a simple statement of sympathy for how this whole situation might affect her. “What do you mean?”

“Well, after you split up with her, I doubt there will be much of a place for her here at all anymore–”

“No.” It came out perhaps harsher than necessary, and Lizzie’s mouth shut, her jaw tightening. But he needed to get it through to her; make it crystal clear. “Under no circumstances will I be leaving Lucy.” Lizzie opened her mouth to argue. “Ever.” He put as much firm, immovable emphasis on the word as he could without shouting. 

“I’m having your fucking baby, Tommy. Why does she get to be more important than that?”

“Lizzie, please…” he pinched at his brow, battling back a headache. Working hard to keep himself level headed. “I will take care of you. I will take care of the baby, but I’m not…I can’t promise you anything more than that. And I’m not dumping Lucy out onto the street like garbage so that you can play out some fucking fantasy–”

“You’re the one living in a fantasy!” she snapped. “You’re going to make our child a bastard! I know how this goes, Tommy. You’ll stash us away out in the countryside, right? Only to be visited on the rare occasion that you have time for us.”

“That isn’t what I’m saying–”

“No?” she sneered. “You’re going to allow it to be public knowledge that you have an illegitimate child? I’m sure that will do wonders for your reputation.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm. “I will not allow my child to be shoved aside while you gallivant around with that little tart–”

“Oi!” This time he did shout, voice echoing throughout the interior of the car. Lizzie cringed back at the sound, shoulders drawing in, and a look of immediate regret passed across her face. Had he not been so frustrated, he may have found it fascinating: the way that she seemed to almost rouse, like she had been stuck in a trance of anger and jealousy before his bellow of fury snapped her out of it. “Don’t fucking talk about her like that.”

“I’m sorry,” she looked down at her hands. “I didn’t mean…” she trailed off, looking out the window. “I didn’t mean that.”

Tommy wiped a hand down his face. There were about a dozen things he’d like to say to her, but he decided to refrain. At least until after he’d spoken to Lucy and knew where she stood on everything. 

“If you are going to insist on keeping the baby, I’m not going to fight you on it,” he said, slowly. “But you need to make peace with the fact that Lucy is important to me. She will always be important to me. She’s a part of my life. You have to accept that, Lizzie.” When she didn’t say anything, instead just staring down at her hands, he let out a sharp, frustrated sigh. “This really shouldn’t be so big of a shock.”

Still, Lizzie did not answer, just sitting there in angry silence. Tommy shook his head. 

“I thought that you and her were getting along,” his voice was quieter, at a loss for what else he could do or say. Only able to hope that somehow, Lizzie would remember that Lucy wasn’t her enemy in all of this. Hell, up until the canal, things had been cordial, even friendly, between them.  

Lizzie did not acknowledge his words, turning away sharply and opening the car door, stepping out onto the street. When she turned to slam the door shut behind her, she shot him a look that it took him a beat to recognize as heartbreak.   

Guilt crashed down upon him again. For placing them both into this situation. For getting her hopes up again. For not being able to give her what she really wanted. 

For, in complete and total honesty, not really wanting to. 

Because he would never trade what he had with Lucy for even the remote possibility of having something with Lizzie. Not ever. And the type of love that Lizzie was seeking from him was not the kind that would have room for anyone else.   

God, what a fucking mess. 

“I know a good realtor. I’ll have him call you so you can start looking at houses,” he tried to offer. Lizzie looked away. 

“Whatever.”

He sighed, for perhaps the thousandth time that night. “Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight,” she said, still without looking at him, and slammed the car door in his face. He watched her walk to her door, waiting until she was safely inside before turning back on the engine, pulling the car away from the curb, heading towards home. 

Towards Lucy. 

Dread sprang up in his throat, tasting of bile. He did not know how he was going to face her. Already he could envision it: the way that her big green eyes would look up at him, wide and full of hurt. A tremor traveled down his arms, all the way to his hands. With a sharp jerk, he suddenly yanked the steering wheel to pull over the car, letting the engine idle while he pulled out his cigarettes and lit one. The smoke drew deeply into his lungs, helping to somewhat stifle the shakiness of his hands.

His Lucy. His poor Lucy. This was going to hurt her. She would most likely try to pretend that it didn’t, but it would.

And it was his fault. 

He loved her. He’d promised never to hurt her, and here he was, about to waltz into their home, drop this whole load of shit at her feet, and ask her to still, somehow, stay with him. He couldn’t be more selfish if he tried. 

It had never been his intention to have any more children after Grace died. He had been on the fence about it even prior to her death. In his mind, Charlie had been more than enough, and after learning that Lucy couldn’t get pregnant, the idea of him and Grace having more had felt almost…insensitive. Not that they’d even gotten the chance to ever really discuss it. Grace died before that could happen. 

The very thought of Grace was enough to have a burn of tears, both of guilt and sorrow, burning in the back of his throat. It was times like these he was thankful that he did not really believe in an afterlife. The thought of her looking down on him and seeing what he had done made him want to weep with shame. 

No, after Grace was gone, more children had not been something either he or Lucy had planned on. She could not have them, and they were more than content with Charlie, Asher, and their horses. 

As if things weren’t bad enough already, it was compounded by the reality that Lizzie was about to give him something that Lucy never could. The pain that would cause was not lost on him. Yet another kick to the stomach for his kindhearted redhead to endure. His lover who had never, in all their time together, done anything to hurt him. Certainly not to this magnitude.

He slammed his hand against the steering wheel, striking it as hard as he wished that he could hit himself, palm burning where it collided with the material. 

“Fuck!” he screamed.   

Face falling into one of his hands, palm rubbing at his forehead and eyes, he drew in a deep, ragged breath. Wedging his cigarette between his lips, Tommy pulled himself together, hands curling around the steering wheel after he put the car back into gear, beginning to once more drive through the dark streets of Small Heath, bouncing slightly along the uneven cobblestones. 

He’d drive around for a while before heading home, he decided. To collect his thoughts and figure out just how the hell he was going to tell Lucy about all of this. 

A few blocks down the road from home, he came across a flower shop. Breaking in was no trouble, and he left a few shillings on the counter for the bouquet he’d stolen, closing the store up just as he’d found it, settling the flowers on the passenger seat gingerly, making sure that they didn’t get squished. 

It felt like not even close to enough given the circumstances, but he had to do something nice for her. 

The time spent driving and thinking had only served to triple the anxiety he’d already felt in regards to telling her. 

He glanced over at the flowers, swallowing painfully. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as he thought. Maybe she wouldn’t leave him. 

Still, the thought did little to soothe his nerves, nor did it stifle the swirling self hatred that tormented him the entire drive home. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy ran a hand over her hair, sighing and swirling the whiskey in her glass before raising it to her lips for a sip. Her eyelids felt heavy with exhaustion. Even the very thought of having to change from her work clothes into a nightgown for bed seemed to be too much effort.

After getting home, she’d grabbed a quick snack from the pantry, chatted with Finn for a little while, and then went upstairs to tuck Charlie in and read to him a chapter of the book she and Tommy had been reading to him every night before bed when they were able. He’d crashed about halfway through, and she’d quietly pecked his forehead before placing the bookmark between the pages, switching off the light, and departing from the room to let the little boy sleep.

Standing there in the middle of her and Tommy’s makeshift bedroom, she tapped the metal of her rings against the glass containing her drink, just staring into space. It had been a hard, long day. She hoped that Tommy would be home soon. 

Frowning, she took a look at her pocket watch, wondering just what could be taking him so long. She set it down onto the vanity with a soft clink, just as she heard the sounds of a car pulling up outside. 

Speak of the Devil.

A moment later she heard the sounds of the front door being opened, and then boots on the stairs. 

She set her glass down beside her pocket watch on the vanity, turning with a smile to the door when it opened. 

“Hey–” whatever else she might’ve been about to say died on her tongue the moment that she saw his face. He looked ashen, nearly ill; his blue eyes miserable, fixed on her with what she could only call regret and desperation. “What’s going on?” she asked, gaze dropping to the bouquet of flowers clutched in his hand. Tommy swallowed hard, setting the bouquet aside onto the nightstand and taking a step towards her, resting both hands on her upper arms. 

“Lucy…” his voice wobbled a little at the end of uttering her name, breaking eye contact to look down. Her brows pulled inwards in response to the look of outright shame that crossed his face. 

When he looked up at her it was to gently stroke his fingertips down her cheek, eyes fixed upon her face as if trying to memorize it. Like he expected that at any moment she would walk out the door and never return.

“I love you so much,” he said quietly. Her heart jumped into her throat, confusion only building. It wasn’t like declarations of his love for her were a particularly rare occurrence, but there was something about his tone that had a plume of dread twisting inside of her. “I’m so, so sorry, love.” 

“What…?”

He replaced his hand on her upper arm, looking down again for only a moment, collecting himself, before forcing his eyes to meet hers. The regret and misery in them nearly bowled her over. 

“Lizzie is pregnant.”

Lucy stared at him, feeling as though she’d been punched. Like that moment after the wind was knocked out of you and you felt as though you might never be able to catch your breath again.

“O-oh,” was all she managed to say, head spinning with a thousand possibilities, a thousand thoughts all at once. She did not need to ask him if the baby was his; the grave, regretful way that he had told her was answer enough to that question. 

Tommy was still holding onto her, watching her reaction beseechingly with barely concealed fear. Still looking at her like he expected at any moment for her to wrench herself from his grasp and push him away. “I’m so sorry,” he said again.  

“What–um…what about…are we…?” she could not seem to be able to put together a proper sentence, too many questions, all needing to be asked and yet dreaded to be answered, perched on the tip of her tongue. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself but not really succeeding. “She’s keeping it?” she managed to get out. Tommy nodded. Her head bobbed in numb acknowledgement. She’d thought as much, given the way he was behaving. 

Saw her chance and fucking took it, she caught herself thinking bitterly, and shoved the thought down with a wince. Tommy’s hands tightened a little against her arms, looking as though he wanted to pull her closer, but was unsure if she would actually be agreeable to him doing so.

A baby. Tommy was going to have another baby. With someone else. The one thing that Lucy could never give him–that fact only a twist to the knife already embedded in her flesh. She was struck harshly with a potent sense of deja vu, teleported back to the day of the Derby, after all the excitement was over and Tommy told her in the car on the way home that Grace was pregnant with his child. 

Except this time was not at all the same, was it?   

Grace had loved her. Grace had wanted her around. Had accepted and openly encouraged her relationship with Tommy, as well as her position as a second mother figure in Charlie’s life. Lucy knew she would get no such consideration from Lizzie. 

Because–let’s be perfectly frank, here–Lizzie hated her guts. The mask had come off after that day in the canal. Whatever friendliness Lizzie may have shown her before then, Lucy could not help but think that it had to be only because she knew that she needed to play nice with her in order to remain close to Tommy. It hurt; she genuinely thought that they might’ve been on their way to finally becoming friends.

You idiot, she chastised herself. They should never have started things back up with Lizzie. But maybe this was what they deserved, for so flippantly using Lizzie as a stand-in to fulfill their own grief-fueled fantasies. 

Lizzie would want her gone. Of that, she had no doubt. She wondered how long it would be before her first attempt at jettisoning her from Tommy’s life. Perhaps she had already tried after telling Tommy the news.

A horrible thought barreled into her mind with the force of a freight train, her gaze, having drifted to stare blankly around the room while she thought, snapping back to Tommy’s. Fear locked its hands firmly around her throat.

“Are you leaving me for her?” she forced herself to ask, voice quiet and trembling. Tommy’s eyes widened. 

“No! No, I’d never leave you,” he cradled the side of her face, and she closed her eyes, leaning desperately into the strong warmth of his touch. 

“Does Lizzie know that?”

“Yes; I told her.”

After she undoubtedly asked you to throw me out onto the street without a second thought. “I’m sure she was thrilled.”

He took hold of her face with both hands, tilting it to look at him. “I made it clear that if she wants to have this baby, she’s going to have to make peace with the fact that you are a part of my life.”

She gave him a despondent look. “And do you really think that she will?”

Tommy frowned. “She’s going to have to.”

She nodded, slowly, movements jerky and numb. Guilt and confliction roiled around inside her. Of course she did not want for him to throw her away, but…it all just seemed so incredibly unfair to Lizzie.

He may have put his foot down this time. But what about the next? Or the dozen after that? What about after the baby comes? 

If Lizzie decided to force him to choose between Lucy or her and the child…

Lucy was not fool enough to think that she’d ever be the triumphant party should a choice like that be put before him. Nor would she want to be. The thought that she could ever be what came between him and his children made her feel physically ill. 

Within seemingly a matter of moments, the entire dynamic had shifted, the power structure reversing. Lucy suddenly felt incredibly small and inconsequential. Nonessential when put into the grand scheme of things. Lizzie was going to be the mother of his child, now. That automatically put her high above Lucy in the hierarchy of important women in Tommy’s life.   

They were connected forever, now. Lizzie’s place at Tommy’s side was secure. More so than Lucy’s was, even. Through the baby they would share a bond that Lucy would never be able to have with him. 

The dark pit of despair was opening wider within her mind, beckoning her to its edge, encouraging her to spiral down into its ink-black depths.  

She swayed on her feet, a violent shudder going through her, a small sound emitting from her throat. She pulled suddenly away from Tommy, staggering forwards, not even entirely sure where she thought she was going. It was only when she drew away from his body that she realized just how imperative his presence had been in holding her together.

“Luce?” Tommy asked, voice worried, and she could sense him hovering behind her, wanting to reach out, but hesitating, unsure if his touch was still welcome. 

Slowly, without even processing what she was doing, she lowered herself to the floor, sitting with her back propped up against the side of the bed, knees curled underneath her. Knuckles raising to press against her lips, she fought to contain the strangled sob that came from her throat. But more were coming, hot tears pooling in her eyes to run down her cheeks. 

“Oh, love,” Tommy said, and then he was sitting down beside her, shoulder pressing against hers, arm wrapping around her, hand cradling her head and pulling it to tuck into his shoulder. “Come here.”

Her cheek pressing into the warmth of his body seemed to break whatever lingering composure she’d been clinging to, eyes squeezing shut, entire weight slumping against him, violent sobs starting to wrack through her entire body. 

“Shh…” he wrapped his other arm around her and started to rock them both from side to side, petting her head while his lips pressed to her red curls.   

She cried hard into him for a good long while, face squished into his shirt, probably getting makeup smudges all over the material. He held her very, very tightly, nearly crushing her into him and continuing to press kisses all around the crown of her head until she settled, sobbing giving way to quiet sniffles.   

“Sorry,” she drew back, not far enough to pull free from his embrace, but just enough that she could scrub at her face with the back of her hand, embarrassed. “I’m fine, really, I’m just feeling sorry for myself…”

“Don’t…don’t apologize. You have every right to be upset.”

When she craned her head up to look at him, she was met with an agonized look in his wide eyes. His hand was still holding her head, the feel of his strong palm resting atop her hair a comforting, protective presence. His thumb stroked over her curls. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said again, distraught over the pain he was causing her overtaking his face. Lucy shook her head, letting her cheek rest more solidly where he had her tucked into his chest. 

“It’s not like you did it on purpose.”

“I should’ve been more careful.”

“We both should’ve.” The choice to take Lizzie down to the canal had been a joint effort, after all. Tommy swallowed hard, lips parting, then closing, a fearful look Lucy almost never saw from him entering into his eyes. 

“If you don’t want to be with me anymore, I understand…” he sounded like he was in physical pain as he forced the words out, hardly able to meet her gaze, looking away as if already mentally preparing himself for her to reject him. 

She blinked up at him, taken aback. The look on his face broke her heart, the agony at the mere idea of her walking away from him perpetual and crippling. 

“No, that’s not…” she trailed off, shifting slightly, wrapping her arm around him and hugging him hard. “I don’t want to lose you.”

He buried his face in her hair, and she could feel him noticeably relax against her. “You won’t. You won’t.” He squeezed her as if afraid to let her go. 

“What are we going to do?” she asked, finally, once he’d loosened his grip just enough for her to lean back and peer up at him again. Tommy sighed the sigh of the terminally exhausted.

“I told Lizzie I’d give her a weekly allowance and buy a nice house for her and the baby. I wanted to talk to you first before discussing any other details with her.”

She nodded, appreciating the gesture, and swallowed hard around the next question, voice quiet and still a little thick with tears. “Are you going to marry her?”

Tommy frowned. “I’m not planning to.”

“That could hurt your reputation…”

“Maybe,” he acknowledged, and sighed again. “We’ll deal with that if we have to.” Large fingers swept some of her hair out of her face and cupped her cheek. “Even if I did…that doesn’t mean that you and I couldn’t still…”

Lucy looked away, down at her hands where she’d started unconsciously fiddling with her rings. “Lizzie might not be agreeable to that.”

“I’m not exactly going to leave it up to negotiation,” he tilted her face upwards, encouraging her to meet his eyes once more. “We come as a pair.”

“She doesn’t like me, Tommy.”

“She’s had her moments of unpleasantness, but I really don’t think she hates you as much as you think–”

“In her eyes, I’ll always be the primary obstacle between you and her finally being able to be together.”

“That’s not true.” He must have seen something in her face, because his gaze sharpened, shifting closer to her on the floor, jaw setting stubbornly, deadly serious. “Hey, look at me,” he commanded, gently, waiting until she did before he continued. “We’re going to be okay,” he swore. “I love you so much. I’m not going to leave you. Not now; not ever, alright?”

“She might make you…”

“She can’t make me do anything. I’m not leaving you, and if that upsets her, that’s her problem. She knows what our arrangement is; I made it as clear as I possibly could.”

“I don’t want to be the cause of any problems for you, Tommy…” Lucy mumbled weakly. It was her job–literally–to help make his life easier. If her presence started to become the root of serious issues…

“You could never be a problem for me,” he sounded wholly astonished at the mere suggestion. Holding her face as though it were the most precious thing in the entire world, he stroked her cheek rhythmically with the pad of his thumb. Those blue eyes pierced into her, urgent and sincere. “I love you, Lucy.”    

She swallowed hard, forcing back another welling of tears. With it, she squashed down the still enduring batch of insecurities roiling within her, agitated and threatening to bubble to the surface like an unattended stew. Everything still felt raw, heart aching in her chest, but the comfort that Tommy’s touch and earnest words provided helped. 

She believed that he wouldn’t let her go without a fight, and she believed that he loved her. 

It was always possible that she was being unjustly harsh in her assessment of how Lizzie would behave regarding the whole situation. They had been getting along prior to the whole threesome by the canal business, after all. Maybe things really could be okay between them.  

“I love you too,” she said, and he gave her a weak smile. 

“I…erm,” he turned, keeping one arm around her while he stretched up to grab the bouquet he’d left on the nightstand after first entering the room. “I got you these.”

She took the bouquet from him, burying her nose in sweetly smelling, freshly cut blossoms. “Where on earth did you even get a bouquet of flowers so late at night?”

“I, uh, broke into a floral shop a little ways down the road.”

“Tommy!”

“What!? I left some money on the counter and closed it up just as I found it.”

She gave him an affectionate smile. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

He looked at the bouquet with a frown. “It was the least that I could do, given the circumstances.” 

A lump formed in her throat. It may have been a small gesture, all things considered, but the thoughtfulness of it wasn’t lost on her. 

“Thank you.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, the arm that was around her returning to cradling the side of her head.

He was always so sweet with her, in a way that she knew he never was with anyone else. The efforts that he made to take care of and prioritize her had always been of significance, and she was forever aware of just how lucky she was that he so genuinely, deeply loved her. 

Treacherous, her mind yanked her back to Lizzie and the baby. Between them, Charlie, the company, the war with Changretta, various family affairs, and her, it was getting awfully crowded on Tommy’s priority list.

Maybe everything would work itself out.

Or maybe not. 

First guess who on that list would be the first to go. 

“Hey,” Tommy said, and his voice was like the sudden yank of a rope, pulling her up out from under the water she’d slipped beneath, sputtering back into the open air. “Stop getting stuck in your own head.”

A tearful laugh left her lips. “Pot, meet kettle.”

He snorted a little against her hair where his lips were currently pressed. 

She sniffled, head resting more firmly against his shoulder. Tommy squeezed his arm around her, until she was tucked tightly into his warm side. “Don’t ever let me go,” she pleaded. He turned his head from where his cheek was resting against her head to kiss her hair. 

“Never. I promise.”

Angling her head up, Lucy pressed her nose to his throat, breathing in the scent of faded cologne and lingering smoke. He smelled of pine; like a campfire in the middle of the woods. Like safety. Like home. 

She ghosted her lips tentatively across his neck, feeling him respond to her touch instantaneously, fingers curling under her chin, head tilting down so that he could catch her lips with his. The kiss was slow and infinitely gentle, soft mouth moving against hers like he was trying to pour his love into her with each caress. Even after their lips broke apart, he began earnestly kissing the lingering remnants of her tears away. Gingerly setting her bouquet aside, she twisted her body to press more tightly against his, Tommy’s hands encouraging her to slide into his lap.

Taking his face in her hands, she kissed him again, lips parting to his, head angling to allow the meeting of their mouths to become deeper. Warmth from his large hand where it was pressed to the middle of her back seeped in through her shirt.   

“Mm. Are you sure?” he asked, nosing at her hair, hands cradling her in close, so that she was firmly straddling his hips.

“Yes,” she breathed out, nodding, fingers diving into his hair. Tommy kissed her again, the hand on her back sliding up to cradle the back of her head, the other stroking her thigh. Rising up from where he’d been seated and taking her with him, his strong arms lifted her up onto his torso. Hooking her legs around his waist to help him, she moaned softly as he turned them, promptly depositing her on her back on the bed behind them, falling with her so that his body almost entirely covered hers. Now that she’d started kissing him, she was unable to stop. Desperation seeped sharply into her blood, each pump of her heart sending it pulsing out to permeate her entire body.  

Maybe it was out of need for comfort. Maybe it was out of a desire to claim him. She was not entirely sure. 

Each kiss served as a reminder that he still loved her. That he wanted her. That he was there with her. He would not leave her alone. They would be okay; he would make sure of it.  

Clothes slid off, tossed in a shapeless pile on the floor where they’d just been seated. She whined when Tommy broke their kiss to instead suck at her neck, steadily making his way down her body, caressing her breasts, nuzzling at her scars, kissing every inch of naked skin laid out before him. 

The groan he let out when she grabbed his hair and steered his face towards where she needed him had her thighs twitching around his head. Heels crossing against his back, she tried to draw him in even closer, whimpering with her head thrown back when he licked a long stripe from the base of her entrance all the way up to her clit, wrapping his lips around it to give the sensitive bud a sharp suck. She could feel his eyes on her, observing her reactions to ensure that she was enjoying herself as he set to work pleasuring her. 

With fingers and tongue, he brought her to the edge of coming within minutes. But while his movements were earnest in their goal to please her, he was not hurried. Each and every movement seemed to carry with it the need to telegraph his love for her. Tender motions and soft touches. Praises whispered into her skin. Eyes heartful and adoring when they bored into her. 

He did not stop until he’d made her come twice, and only then it was because she had to nudge his head away to give herself a chance to catch her breath. The way that he snuggled his face into her palm had tears pricking the corners of her eyes, thumb stroking over his lips.

His brows creased when he spotted the film of tears preparing to spill down her cheeks, hand raising hastily to her face, half pushing himself up onto his arms to hover over her. 

“I’m okay,” she shook her head, covering his hand with hers where it cupped her cheek. He searched her face for a long moment, worry giving way to sadness. She supposed that he understood just as much as she did that the ache of what was happening with Lizzie would not leave for her a long time–if ever. 

“I love you,” she heard him whisper, dropping his face to kiss her hip. He climbed halfway on top of her, then wrapped his arms around her waist, carefully sinking his weight onto her and resting his head between her breasts, just laying on her for a moment in an embrace that she could have happily remained within for years. Hands rubbing up and down his back, she kissed the top of his head, holding him just as firmly as he was holding her. 

Tommy just held her for a moment that could have stretched eons or just a few simple minutes, before stirring in response to the light strokes she started to pet through his hair, lips pressing to the curve of her breast. She could feel his erection pressing into her thigh, pleasantly warm and heavy against her. When she adjusted her legs so they were looped around his waist, heel resting against the swell of his ass, Tommy let out a soft groan at the way her smooth skin shifted and rubbed against his cock with the movement, lifting his head to peer up at her.  

Slowly, he raised himself up onto his arms, balancing above her, and she was struck with the disparity between their two sizes. He was massive in comparison to her; Lucy’s body petite enough in its small stature and his large enough in its muscular build that he could cover her completely if he wanted. 

But the way that his body curled over hers was not threatening in the slightest. She had never felt so protected in her life. He was warm, and solid, and safe, handling her like the mere thought of hurting her was too agonizing to bear.

Palms flat to the pillow on either side of her head, he kissed her, the sensual slowness of his mouth moving against hers enough to have her practically melting in his arms.

“Please,” she begged between kisses, needing to feel him, needing the physical proof that he still loved her, that he was still hers.  

Not ceasing the press of their lips, Tommy reached down to take himself in hand, stroking a few times and swiping the head of his cock between her folds to gather up the wetness glistening there. 

He entered her slowly, hips pushing languidly forward until they were flush to hers. Lucy moaned at the stretch, legs tightening around him, hands landing on his back. He cupped the side of her face, still kissing her, breaths heavy, as he very leisurely started to rock his hips. 

A pleasured sigh left Lucy’s lips. He was so close. Buried inside her, getting as deep as he could possibly go with each thrust, chest pressed tight to hers, hands all over her. 

“Fuck, you feel good. You feel so good,” he husked between kisses. “I love you so much, Lucy.”

A lump formed in her throat at the way he said it, a sharp moan cutting her off before she could repeat the words back to him. He was still going slow, but his hand had joined the mix, fingers circling around her clit. 

His love was radiating off of him in waves, every touch, kiss, and thrust made with the intention of communicating the ferocity of his feelings for her. Truly making love rather than just fucking. It was nearly enough to bring her to tears, body shaking as it absorbed all the affection he had to give her like a sponge. Her walls tightened as the pleasure built between her legs, a moan bubbling up from within her chest. 

Strands of Tommy’s fringe, having fallen forward, tickled her face, his head turning to nuzzle at her cheek. 

“Tommy…I’m…”

“I know,” he purred, lips ghosting over her freckled skin. “Let go, sweetheart. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”  

Back arching, she wailed as she fell apart around him, nails digging into his shoulders and head thrown back. Tommy growled, face burying in her neck, hand going to her thigh, pressing down gently to get her to open up a little wider for her, hips never ceasing their deep rolls as he rode her through her orgasm and almost straight into another one. She clawed at his back, angling her head so that she could bury her face in his neck, feeling the vibrations of his groan from within his throat as she sucked a dark mark into the pale skin. 

“Lucy…” he grunted, pace stuttering slightly. The muscles in his back were tensing, his forehead coming to rest on hers, eyes glazed with pleasure. She could feel him all around her, inside her, cock swelling with his impending release, eyes staring into hers intensely. One of his hands, the one not still occupied with her clit, took hold of hers, interlacing their fingers and pressing them into the mattress by her head.

The look in his eyes was worth a thousand words. Devotion emblazoned as brightly as the sun within them. 

I will love you forever, that was what he’d told her when they created the blood bond that left the scars that still marked the palms they had clasped together. It had been true, then. And she knew, the full realization of it crashing upon her all at once, that it was true now.

He was still hers. He was still her Tommy.

Tears welled into her eyes, overwhelmed a little by both the immense pleasure he was giving her, and the sudden, absolute surety of her realization. 

She gasped, the tip of his cock grinding against her g-spot each time he bottomed out. Tommy’s mouth dropped open, eyes rolling a little in his skull, hand tightening in hers. His cock twitched inside her, and at the same moment his thumb pressed hard on her clit, and she cried out as, with a growl and the first burst of his seed emptying inside her, he pulled her right along with him over the edge.  

She started sobbing almost immediately, flinging her arms around his shoulders and hugging him so tightly, it was a wonder that he could breathe. He hugged her back, thick arms wrapping around her waist, face burying itself in her neck. His hips were flush against hers, twitching slightly with the last spasms of his release, cock still buried snugly inside of her. 

She wished that they could have stayed like that forever. 

Tears rushed down her cheeks, lips trembling as she pressed them together. The soft, thick tendrils of his hair slid through her fingers, hand smoothing down the base of his skull, feeling the velvety prickle of the shaved sides of his head, following the slope down his neck to stroke his strong back. 

Tommy turned his face to kiss her shoulder, then her neck. When his lips pressed to her cheek and he tasted the saltiness of sheded tears there, he pulled back, eyes wide with concern, immediately moving to push himself off of her and pull out.   

“N-no,” she tightened her legs around him, latching onto his shoulders with a twinge of franticness. “I’m alright. You didn’t hurt me. I just,” she let out an embarrassed laugh, rolling her watery eyes at her body’s over dramatic reaction to the sensations and emotions that had just crescendoed inside her. “Am having a lot of feelings right now.”

He cupped the side of her face, thumb brushing away a few of the tears. God, she must look like a mess given all the crying she’d been doing tonight.

“Bad feelings?” he asked, gaze soft but still worried, eyes fluttering when she brushed the pads of her fingers down his cheek.

“No,” her thumb traced over the spot that often dimpled when he smiled, swallowing hard, raising her head up so that their noses bumped lightly against each other. “I love you so much, Tommy.”

His throat convulsed in what she recognized as an effort to swallow down tears, emotion rushing into his eyes. 

“I love you too.” His forehead returned to its spot resting against hers. Both inhaled deeply as they kissed. When finally they parted, it was only so that Tommy could pull gingerly out of her oversensitive core, turning over to lay beside her on his side, gathering her up into his arms and tucking her into his chest. Lucy snuggled against him, closing her eyes while he stroked her hair.       

“I mean it,” he said softly, cheek pillowing against the top of her head. “All of it. We’re going to be just fine. I’m not going to let you go; not unless you really want me to. I love you. Nothing will ever change that.”  

She kissed the center of his chest a few times, murmuring similar assertions into his skin, tilting her head up to look at him.

“I love you too. No matter what. I can’t imagine any possible scenarios where I would ever want to leave you.”

Maybe that made her horrifically selfish, to not be willing to dutifully bow out of the equation so he and Lizzie could make a proper go of things. But she could not just let Tommy go like that. Without him, she would never be happy again, and she could not just abandon him and all the work they’d done. If something happened to him and she wasn’t there, she would never forgive herself. 

And, if the display of affection he’d just showered her with was of any significance, he would be heartbroken if she left. 

Besides, where would she even fucking go? Her only remaining family were her cousins and aunt in the caravans in the mountains, and she hadn’t spoken properly to any of them in years. 

He seemed incapable of ceasing gentle touches to her face, tracing the outlines of her lips and cheekbones, mapping out patterns in the constellations of freckles smattering her skin, before cradling almost the entirety of her cheek in his large palm.  

“I know…I know how hard and how…shit this all is for you. Thank you for staying with me.” The tenderness, combined with the utter relief and bountiful gratefulness in his eyes, had her heart twisting in her chest. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

She stretched up to kiss him again, both their lips plenty swollen from the amount of times they’d snogged.

“We’re gonna be alright,” she whispered. Tommy nodded, arms tightening around her. 

“We should both probably try to get some sleep.”

Laying her head back down on his chest, she snuggled in closer to him with a sigh. “Yeah.”

Realistically, neither of them was probably going to sleep all that much, but at least they could try to get some rest. Tommy shifted to flick off the light on the bedside table, arm returning to join the other back around her. Lucy closed her eyes at the feeling of him nuzzling into her hair, squishing in as close as she could get to his chest. 

It was not until the early hours of the morning, the sun already beginning to crest over the horizon, when either of them actually managed to slip into a proper doze. But the entire night, they held onto each other, not once letting go.

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[gnpwdrnfandoms]

bluff

- Mitch x ofc!Dallie

- 650ish words

-Set sometime before s1. Some use of curse words. Dallie is a tall plus size woman, you decide what that looks like for you. Picks up where what are the odds? left off but you don't have to read that to read this.

Mitch is aware of Babe watching him, can feel the old man's eyes boring into his back and he subtly shifts his weight to block his view of Dallie and her folder full of bad news.

Because Mitch is also pretty fucking sure what happens in Vegas is damn well supposed to stay in Vegas. Not stroll into his bar three years later talking shit and waving around a goddamn marriage license.

"What is it exactly you think we need to talk about, sugar?" He asks, closing the folder and giving it a push back across the bar to her.

She stares at him like he's lost his ever loving mind and maybe he has. He knows he should agree to whatever she wants and be shut of it, but he's feeling ornery about her just strolling in his bar acting like there wasn't a point in time, even if it was only a few days, where she was really interested in this washed up cowboy.

"This dissolution of this sham of a union for starters?" She questions, tucking the folder back in her designer bag that he'd bet costs more than the bar rakes in on a good night.

"It should only take a couple days. I'd compensate you for your time and pay for your flights to Nevada and back home as well. Now that I've finally located you, I'd just like to put this behind me, ya know? No offense to you, of course," she smiles up at him. "I just don't think either of us expected to have to deal with this?"

But the thing is, maybe he's not completely surprised by the news. Maybe there's a possibility he'd found a cheap gold band rolling around in the bottom of his duffle when he'd gotten back to Oklahoma but he had his pops to deal with and even though she'd definitely made one hell of an impression, he'd never even gotten her last name so it wasn't like he knew how to find her and he kinda just pushed the whole thing to the back of his mind.

And yeah, okay, maybe he had snuck out of the hotel room while she was still sleeping so it's definitely his fault they're in this predicament, he'll admit that much but if he'd stayed any longer he was pretty sure he never would've made it back to Oklahoma. He would've just followed her right on to Reno like some lost fucking puppy and fully integrated himself into her life. And despite the fact that she seemed to really enjoy his company, he didn't exactly get the impression she was looking to shackle herself to a fresh out of prison, no prospects, down on his luck cowboy.

But now that she's here? And he's made a tiny little bit of something of himself? Well, hell, he doesn't have to make it easy on her to just wipe her hands of him does he?

"I appreciate that, honey, I really do," he drawls, propping his arms on the bar top and leaning in close. "But I could pay my own way. If I was going, that is."

"If?" she splutters, her eyes going wide in shock before she narrows them at him in irritation. "What do you mean, if you were going??"

"I got the bar to run for one, and I got my pops to take care of for another," Mitch smirks, pointing his thumb over his shoulder in Babe's general direction. "I can't just up and run off to Vegas for a couple days."

"I know you think you're being real cute here," Dallie sighs dramatically. "But the jokes on you, cowboy. I don't have anywhere to be and nothing more pressing to do than get this taken care of so I hope like hell you've got a guest room where ever you call home because I'm not going anywhere until this is done and over with."

[fandomrouletteburrito]

You know what? Im going to vent about how annoyed I am abt bsd atm and put it in the tags bcuz I also want to debate it. I enjoy bsd but I am struggling to understand what exactly Asagiri is trying to do here esp when this arc is so long that the arc itself has mini arcs in it.

If anyone reads this I would love, LOVE to discuss this because I am yanking my hair in frusteration

I am putting it under a cut so that ppl who dont want to see criticism abt bsd dont have to see it

Am i being an asshole? Yes

Am i going to warn ppl before hand and remind them that they can curate their internet experience by simply not reading something that is going to criticize something they love? And the block button exists for a reason???????Also yes

That being said i dont often go off about things i dont like about media i enjoy because well i understand everything i like has pros and cons

Also i still read bsd bcuz there r other things i DO like about it

Anywayssss

The thing that is bothering me about bsd is that I dont think I can tell what any character is doing EVER. Perhaps thats just my taste and I like having some idea of whats going to happen.

The characters arcs are excellent, their actions make sense for the personalities that they have yes.

The problem i do have w bsd is that the characters are apparently constantly always somehow predicting whats going on

How in the goddamn world do you expect me to believe that Fyodor let Dazai see him kill someone through touch so that Dazai would come up w a plan like Mersault? Fyodor didn’t expect Dazai to catch him at the end of the whole virus thing so like how is that enough time for him to find a way to kill that guard by just touching his hand? Why do that unless you planned the Mersault fake death from the start?

I forget but didn’t the Hunting Dogs get Mushitaro to bring up Dazai’s crimes to get Dazai into Mersault? Was this all to get Dazai away from the agency? Extremely likely but that tells me Fyodor planned to fake his death from the star(again) WHICH IN TURN MEANS HE HAD TO HAVE FKING KNOWN SO MUCH AHEAD OF TIME which only makes sense if he had access to some type of future telling ability because some characters actions WERE random eg: below

If Gogol randomly decided to break Fyodor out of Mersault with his race against death game, how can Fyodor expect to be killed by a vampire to become Bram??? How does this make sense if he did not know that Gogol would plan this at all?

There is the panel of Fyodor fallin through the Mersault room correctly as he says its time to escape so maybe he knew Gogol would that? HOW if Gogol just came up with that plan without any of Fyodor’s input?? Alright then maybe he was acting so Dazai won’t catch on but even then how was he expecting to die so that he can become Bram?? What was his alternate plan?

Alright maybe he simply predicted Gogol to do that which I think is a bit sad for Gogol since I think his whole character arc is about how he doesn’t want to be shackled by anything and I would argue being manipulated by someone is a shackle

Criticism 2: the fact absolutely no one of importance has died in bsd manga except for in the light novels(i am including Odasaku in this) please PLEASE correct me if I missed a death

Im not counting Fukuchi as dead because jury’s still out on that given the whole thing w God!Fukuchi/Amenogozen

Esp as we have Dead Apple where whats his names ability outlived him and i think also in 55 minutes

Because well, how do you expect me to take any of the stakes in this manga seriously if no one of name dies ever, I would not have this issue if death wasnt faked out as many times as it has

Maybe Bram will actually stay dead but I doubt it

The fact Kunikida was killed this chapter just tells me that yet again, death is not a serious consequence in this manga. Esp as the book has not been used yet. Even fking HP Lovecraft is alive ffs.

If Kunikida stays dead I will HAPPILY eat my words and state that Asagiri is a master writer for fooling my reading of bsd that well.( i am obviously not saying only my interpretation of bsd is correct so pls dont come at me)

Criticism 3: why didn’t Dazai literally just kill off Fyodor w Chuuya once they got Sigma to get the info from Fyodor

I understand thats a much more author did that because thats what the writing needed and characters are only as intelligent as the story needs so … fineeeee thats on me

Criticism 4: the whole Amenogozen thing about how the war isn’t real

How can Fyodor fake the sign on the wall unless he knew what sign meant world ending to Fukuchi???

Not sure if this is a criticism but if Chuuya was sent by Mori…how did Fyodor expect him to show up? Unless Fyodor and Mori discussed that earlier together in which case Mori is doing an excellent job at pretending like he’s not inleague with Fyodor

This plan of Fyodor’s to become Bram is just so batshit insane and so reliant on people doing random things at the right time eg: Gogol and the death game, Chuuya not being used to kill Fyodor in any form, Sigma not waking up in time to warn the agency, Dazai not fking shooting Fyodor w a gun

Imagine if Gogol’s poison succeeded then well ig Fyodor would just stay in his body since he injected the poison in his own veins which hey doesn’t that mean there was no risk of Fyodor dying in that game? I am likely wrong but it is kinda funny

Unrelated but wow tumblr does NOT want to make writing this on mobile easy bruh

I think the reason I’m so frusterated with this is that bsd is so unpredictable that for me it feels like its going beyond the suspension of disbelief i have

Its breaking the intelligence scale that they set with Fyodor, Dazai and Ranpo that it feels too much to believe

My other issue is I dont know what the whole long term thing w BSD is, and I am a bit tired of that. That might be my personal taste where I like to know what kind of ending or long term things I hope to see in a series but this is a bit too absured for me which might be the point

If anyone reads this entire nonsensical essay you have my respect

[hinamie]

your ask me anything button is so funny because I actually want to know YOUR secrets but is Yuuji wearing SHACKLES in your atla illustrations? what that boy do? 😭 what has he been through? or are they more like bracers? Sorry if you've already addressed this. I'm chomping at the bit to know EVERYTHING your art is so captivating and the way you're both building this story is so exciting

SHACKLES GDHSGSH omg u know i think a while ago someone else speculated that they were like . a sealing device for sukuna so you're not the first to wonder abt them :'>>> but they r neither of those things ! fear not the only crime this boy has committed is stealing my goddamn heart and sukuna has Other factors keeping him in check in this au

They're bracelets!!! they were nobara's very first attempt at jewelry making via metalbending so they're clunky and heavy and unwieldy but yuuji loves them and insists on wearing them everywhere. boy will not take them off unless he Has to. Nobara wld rather die than admit it but she's incredibly flattered by how much wear they get despite being so amateurish, however she also gets Old Art Cringe seeing them all the time.,, she's offered multiple times to make yuuji new ones now that she's improved but he continues to turn her down bc his current ones have so much sentimental value <3

also im so !!!!!!!!! that you like my art (c..captivating ?? im bluSHING what a word holy shit)) and are enjoying watching the au come together :'D the reception fr this project has been more than either of us could have hoped for tbh ,, i was worried that ppl would get Annoyed at th lack of jjk canon art/content but the excitement n support have been incredible so !! thank u !

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

A Freak and a Basket Case— The “Seven Inches of Satanic Panic” Edition

An Eddie Munson x OC Fanfic

[ Click here for “Sounds From A Freak and A Basket Case” ]

All my love to @writhingg and @eddiemunsonmash for some productive workshop sessions that helped me get chapter 2 out.

This was one of my favorite chapters to do, honestly. I loved writing from Eddie’s POV and adding that little bit of spice that was the true Poverty Experience™️. Oh and especially the Lamb Chop references. Today I learned that Lamb Chop was a drunk back in the 70’s.

Warnings: period typical racism, swearing, mentions of suicide, mentions of abuse (more tags to be added as the story progresses), references to the film “Deliverance”

Divider by: @strangergraphics-archive

Chapter Two - Made in Heaven

“ When stormy weather comes around

It was made in heaven.

When sunny skies break through behind the clouds

I wish it could last forever… ” - Queen

The ’85-’86 academic year had to be his year.

It had to be.

It was his last shot. The last hoorah. He had just barely made the cutoff age at twenty for his re-attempt, and it was a miracle in itself that Principal Higgins had a modicum of decency to give him a break and let him even try to attend school again. He would be cutting it too close for comfort, and during the summer, Eddie Munson had sworn to his uncle that he would get his head out of his ass this time around. No more screw ups. No more bullshit scams. No more throwing his life away to be something he wasn’t.

He was going to graduate, and once that diploma was in his hands, he was going to get the hell out of Hawkins and live his goddamn life.

That promise was made at the beginning of summer break. Once school ended in the middle of May, all shackles of oppression were off: he was able to sleep in, hotbox the feelings of shame and guilt away in his van, and gorge on junk food during unholy hours of the early morning before passing out until noon. Hello darkness, my old friend.

Now in August, it was back to hell. Uncle Wayne was coming into his room at four thirty in the morning and kicking the mattress, jolting Eddie awake to get dressed. He’d done it, and then instantly fell back asleep until the shrill sound of the radio alarm pierced through his ear drums. Conveniently just before he’d had the chance to fully wake up. Eddie was ready to throw in the fucking towel by the time he threw a half ass lunch together and got into the van, bitter thoughts swarming in his mind.

Fuck it. Kick me out of school. See if I give two shits. Do me a fucking kindness.

It was one of those things one didn’t really mean, but in his heart he knew he could only slam his head against the brick wall so many times before it got old. School was going to get easier, and he was just going to continue getting tired and bored of what he felt was busywork. Since third grade, all work felt like busywork. Eddie could recall the answers in the textbooks and run circles around the teacher in calculus, but with the constant depression, school didn’t hold his interest long enough for him to really care.

He was at the point where he was forgetting what was important.

Last year was a year of losses. Almost losing the Hellfire Club to bullshit blackmail orchestrated by a sadistic son of a bitch of a principal that he did not fully trust. Ronnie had at least reached out via letter after a time, and she sent a few clipped sentences written with an electric typewriter all the way from New York whenever she had enough money left over from dorm expenses to buy postage stamps. But Dougie had gone nuclear. Played nice that one campaign, and then never talked to Eddie again. Whenever Eddie saw the messers Teague in their HVAC truck, Dougie made a point to look the other way. He had never quite forgiven his best friend for what he had almost undone.

And then there was Paige…

Eddie had been thinking of that mess for some reason, nonstop the first day back at school. Paige was probably still doing the same old thing, images of record deals and bigwig execs sucking their penis sized cigars, laughing at a table she headed, danced in his mind’s eye. Almost as if mocking himself, he’d hear: This is what you could have had if you’d just not fucked it up. This is what you could have had if you’d just been a rockstar, not a Munson.

Hawkins wasn’t cursed, Eddie was. Straight up.

After running late, getting stuck behind a green Dodge with wood paneling, battling the commuters during the clusterfuck that constituted rush hour in Hawkins, nearly sideswiping his van when trying to get over into another lane, he was done. He didn’t know why he bothered to hurry anymore. There was nowhere to go, and no money for the gas it cost to get there. Emotions were running high and low, he felt like he was trapped on a broken-down roller coaster at a shoddy side of the road carnival. Wanting to jump off, throw up, scream, and cry all at once as the reality of everything set in.

Eddie Munson had fucked everything up. Lost a potential record deal, lost a girl, and lost friends over his own stupidity. Once in a lifetime opportunities lost to the ages in the year of 1984.

’86 had to be his year. Otherwise, he had nothing else left.

He was on his way to his locker when a string bean of a freshman wearing khakis and a button down polo from the Gap slammed into him from behind. Eddie immediately turned around to catch him before he hit the ground. The kid yelled out at someone as Eddie lifted him by the armpits. After asking the dazed boy if he was okay, Eddie then looked for the attacker in the crowd of students. He assumed it was a jock, it always was, but he saw no suspicious green letterman jackets lurking in the throng of mindless zombies looking to get their class schedules and locker assignments.

Something was different in the air. He could sense it.

There was a gaggle of girls laughing and pointing, but he couldn’t see the object of their teasing. Once he came within five feet of their gaggle, they saw Eddie the Freak and bolted. So far the first day back was shaping up to be one of those weird days. Stopping to piss before homeroom, Eddie was mid stream at the urinal when he heard whispers from the stalls behind him. Vitriol most vile of some bitch that had run crying in the girl’s bathroom. Between farts, the other guys described a curly haired dork dressed for a cold front in August apparently was trying to terrorize the school.

“She’s some gap-toothed bitch of a basket case.” One of them said, “Ugly as hell too.”

For obvious reasons, Eddie was intrigued. A gap-toothed bitch of a basket case was new. Especially ones wearing winter coats in summer when the humidity drowned you before the heat got to you. He doubted there was any merit to the rumor that she was ugly, truth be told, but he had to see it for himself. Zipping his fly and giving his hands a careless rinse, he immediately vacated the bathroom to conduct his research. The journey to find the bitch took him high and low, and he decided to ditch his first period class to see if he could catch a glimpse.

Fifteen minutes had gone by, and there was no sign of her anywhere. Sighing, he made up his mind that maybe he’d misheard the whispers. Maybe it was just some bullshit that two morons made up in the spur of the moment.

And then like an answer to his prayers he heard a siren call:

Metallica on cassette. Kill ‘Em All Album. Side 1. Approximately thirty nine minutes and six seconds into the album. Track number nine. Seek and Destroy.

Blasting so goddamned loud that from his distance it sounded faint, but he knew that whoever was listening to it directly would be deaf before their twenty-first birthday.

He saw a short girl beelining passed him for the front door, and instantly Eddie was fascinated.

Ah ha! Speak of the devil, there was the little basket case herself.

Sure enough, she was all bundled up in her jacket like a blue collar worker braving a blizzard, gray skirt swishing as she power walked down the hall. The music beckoned to him, and the Black Sabbath patch on her blue backpack encouraged him to follow. Despite the stormy look on the girl’s face and the fuck off aura radiating from her, Eddie couldn’t help but allow the admiration to take over.

Seek and Destroy was one of Eddie’s screaming vents to the ether when the world pulled down its drawers and took a shit on him.

He wondered if the world had done the same to her.

He wasn’t intimidated, he wasn’t repulsed by her demeanor or appearance. Quite the contrary, Eddie could see something in the way the girl’s body communicated to the world:

She wasn’t a bitch, or a basket case. This was one of his little lost sheep. A lost, pathetic little lamb. Bleeding from the heart. Trying to butt heads with everyone and everything, unaware that the world was fanged and scary, and it could spit her out in a malformed bolus should it so desire. And yet she was still trying to fight back.

It was as if his body was moving of his own accord. His heart knew before his brain could logically process what was happening. A compulsion— his inner wild child— sent signals to his feet to quicken his pace as he raced after her. Adrenaline was coursing through him as he heard nothing but the steady pace of her gait matching the pulse of Seek and Destroy. Eddie didn’t stop until he was so close to her, he was breathing in her scent.

Fresh lemons.

Citrusy.

Sugary.

Delectable.

In a sudden burst of confidence, both hands flashed out and snatched her by the backpack straps, yanking her up until she was flush against him. He pulled off her headphones, getting in close until his lips were grazing the shell of her ear.

“You’ve got bitchin’ taste in music there, princess. Metallica, right?”

“FUCK ME FREDDY!” She bleated.

Her scream cut him off, and he held onto the girl like he was holding a wild stallion steady. Nearly went up with her when she jumped like a frog. Eddie kept her pressed to his chest, her own heaving with fear.

“You scared the shit out of me!” She cried.

Laughing hard, he spun her around to face him, hands steadying her broad shoulders as he smiled in her face.

“Sorry, sorry… Relax. Didn’t mean to scare you there. But hey, at least that got your attention, right?” He grinned.

The girl hit the Walkman’s pause button and killed the music, looking up with a stormy and defiant expression. Her eyes, minimized by the thick coke bottle lenses within the frames of her glasses, began to soften when she looked at him. He could see the tightly wound tension leave her body. The facade was slipping. Before him was an individual army crawling through hell to survive.

“You uh… you heard my music, huh?” She murmured.

Eddie nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh yeah. From all the way down the hall. You like Metallica?” he asked.

“Uh huh…”

He gave another full dimple smile at the shy answer. Adorable.

“Hell yeah, good taste. Metallica is one of my favorites too.” He replied, “Let me guess, you had someone show you their music, right?”

There was a brief hesitation as she gathered her thoughts.

“… Kind of. A lot of my tios- my uncles- like their music. My brother likes them too.”

“Older or younger brother?” Eddie asked.

“Older…”

“He get you into metal?” He asked.

“Yeah.” She said, “He started me on Black Sabbath and Ozzy when I was a kid. Um, and they’re my favorites. My dad was the one who showed me Alice Cooper, and Mötley Crüe…”

“Rad… your dad and your brother got you set up with the best of the best.”

He noticed she wasn’t much for eye contact. As hard as he tried to meet her gaze, she wouldn’t look right at him. It seemed as if she was closing herself off from everyone, a purposeful and calculated act. Understandable if Eddie was being honest. The girl’s eyes were red rimmed, nose still red and dripping like a moistened cherry, and her thick glasses were smudged with tears.

The morning must not have been kind. For a moment he saw her vulnerability in her sorrows, and he remembered that she was just a lost little lamb.

“I’m Eddie, by the way.” he said gently, holding out his hand as the chainlinks on his bracelet clinked.

The lamb cocked her head to the side, sweet little face looking up at him as if expecting a trick.

“Eddie?”

“Yup.”

Eddie playfully popped the consonant at the end, and he tried to give a sweet disarming smile to show his sincerity.

“That’s me… Eddie Munson. Hi.”

Gently, slowly, he felt a warm, shaky hand envelop his. He shook it just enough; not too firm of a handshake that he scared her off, but not so weak that it seemed he didn’t want to touch her. Because, if the way his heart was racing was any indication, he very much did want to touch her, and some part of him yet wanted her to know it.

After gulping, clearing her throat, and glancing briefly up at him with wide, brown eyes, she finally spoke up.

“My favorite person in the whole wide world is an Eddie…” the lamb mumbled softly.

“Yeah? Who’s this other Eddie?” He raised an eyebrow, dimples showing with the big cheeser he had on his face.

He noticed she wasn’t in any big hurry to let go of his hand. His ringed fingers squeezed her hand to ecourage her.

“Um… uh…” she attempted.

God… she was so cute when she was scared. She had that soft murmur like the little drunk sock puppet lamb that Eddie loved as a kid. What the hell was its name…?

“Eddie V-… Eddie Van Halen…” she stammered.

Eddie’s heart nearly stopped. Eddie Van Halen was a fucking god among men. His guitar skills were phenomenal, and Van Halen was also the reason why Eddie had gotten punished with the buzz cut in middle school. After that, Eddie tried growing it out again, finally successful.

“No way, are you shitting me right now?” he demanded.

Lamb shook her head.

“No… I’ve seen him live… he’s… he’s really cool.”

Inhale through the nose, hold for five seconds, exhale through the mouth so he didn’t start having a heart attack.

“How the hell did you end up going to one of those concerts?” He managed.

“… my dad. He took me for an early birthday present…”

So okay… skittish little lamb evidently had good taste in music, had a dad that took her to concerts like Van Halen as an early birthday present, and was just parading around the school halls unattended?!

“They were pit side. I got one of the shirts at my house.” She continued, oblivious to his existential crisis.

God dammit… No. There’s no way. There’s no way in the hell that this little thing in the brown jacket was real…

“Which concert was it?” He croaked tentatively.

“The 1984 tour last year… I saw them and Autograph play… Live in Albuquerque.”

He had to stop her right there.

“Okay wait… Just wha— hold on, your dad seriously took you out of Indiana all the way into the middle of nowhere in buttfuck Albuquerque, New Mexico just to see Van Halen… for your birthday?!”

He would have known if some girl from Hawkins was going out of state for Van Fucking Halen’s 1984 tour for their sixth studio album. Both him and Ronnie had been trying to scrounge up money for tickets, but between the two of them selling the last of their food stamps, they’d still managed to come up short. The first leg of the tour didn’t come closer than Roanoke, but when the concert started migrating towards Indianapolis, the rent on the Forest Hills lots experienced a price hike. Because Ronnie and Eddie had still wanted to come home to a roof over their heads every day, they had given up on trying to make it to the show in Indy and forfeited the cash to Wayne and Granny Ecker.

Meanwhile, this girl had been right there in the middle of the action. Basking in David Lee Roth’s versatile vocal range and listening to Van Halen himself shred the shit out of his Fender.

“Wait, wait…” he suddenly realized she said she had seen them in Albuquerque, not in Indianapolis.

“They came to Indiana three times, and you went to New Mexico?! How in hell did your dad figure going to a whole different state to see Van Halen play was a feasible option?! That’s a twelve hour drive at least!” Eddie demanded.

“I used to live in New Mexico, like… not that far from Albuquerque.” She said softly. “I’m not from here…”

Yeah, yeah of course she wasn’t from Hawkins. Eddie should have figured. There was no way in shit someone as cool as this little lamb, someone who had been pit side to Van Halen, could be from Indiana. It almost gave him flashbacks to shades of his ex, and he nearly wanted to pull away from the conversation entirely. Don’t go messing around with out-of-town ass, Jeff had told him. In fact, none of his crew even wanted him to start messing around with any kind of ass again after he’d been trying to uproot his life for a woman.

Yet this one was so quiet, and at the very least they were both on the same high school turf. Couldn’t they at least be friends? Even if he was still uncertain about the potential age gap problems, he knew if he let this sweet face just become a random anecdote in the annals of time, he would be throwing up for weeks and contemplating the jump into traffic. Especially if he saw her being poached by someone else, and God help him if the goons on the basketball team sniffed her out. Big guys that threw around their athletic power climbed over hot coals to bang short chicks, and a new girl who had no status was open season.

He pressed on. Heart racing and trying to maintain his composure so that he didn’t spook her.

“You’re from New Mexico?” Eddie asked.

She nodded.

“Could’ve fooled me, you don’t have the accent for it.” Eddie said, leaning up against one of the tan lockers.

The lamb hesitated and bit her lower lip, nodding and rocking side to side on her feet as she began to pluck at the loose threads of her jacket cuff.

“… people here don’t like to hear it. So I cover it up…” she mumbled.

Eddie let out a puff of air in annoyance.

“It’s not worth going to the trouble… You’re in Hicksville now. Hawkins isn’t the first narrow-minded white bread town, and it’s not going to be the last.” He said, waving his hand absently for emphasis, “You already have like, what, three strikes for being new, being tan, and being a chick. Sorry to say their club is restricted— if you know what I mean— couldn’t get in even if you tried. Hell, I don’t even fit in. I don’t doubt you’ll get the same amount of bullshit I do.”

“You…?” The lamb blinked, confusion written on her face, “Why would anyone make fun of you?”

Harsh laughter erupted from his throat, and he was so consumed by the absurdity of the question that he didn’t notice her flinch backward.

As if he was being crucified, Eddie held out his arms dramatically wide, his battle vest opening up to show off his Led Zeppelin baseball tee dotted with holes where the fabric had worn down from the friction between the fabric and his jean rivets.

“Take a good look at ‘Eddie The Freak’, lamb chop.” He said, voice lowering an octave and taking on a nondescript tone in the way that one might try to imitate a psychiatrist giving a mental health diagnosis.

“I’m a long haired, satan worshiping cult leader. I play disgraceful Pantera and Slayer covers in a dive bar for maybe two perpetually sloshed deadbeats and three cockroaches. I deal speed and grass to the preppy kids that have more money than sense. I lure innocents into my nonexistent basement to play my little satanic games where we sacrifice animals and engage in sodomy, and then I hotbox it in my van afterwards.”

He went on and on, the word vomit not stopping. If he was going to be honest with himself, he knew this potential thing the two had going on was dead on arrival from the moment this princess opened her purty little rose pink mouth and started talking about Van Halen.

“I’m a Munson, not a schoolboy. And Munsons are not proper Hawkins pedigree. No, no, we Munsons drop out of high school and go to jail young, and we die young in some tragic accident that leaves our kids orphaned bastards.”

She was way out of his league. From what he gathered this girl had money— or at least her dad did— if he was able to take her to shit like Van Halen concerts. Something Eddie could only dream of. Everything about this whole interaction was scary. It was scary and horrifying and the only thing he could think of doing was self sabotaging and scaring off this pretty faced lamb before he got too attached to her.

And then she frowned, still looking at the floor. It took time until she finally spoke up, looking him directly in his eyes.

“That doesn’t make no sense… Sounds like a bunch of horseshit to me.” She said.

He watched it all happen so suddenly and he couldn’t look away. His large brown eyes widening and his heart turning cartwheels in his chest when he saw the little twinkles of light, the little pinpricks of stars beginning to glimmer in her eyes as the new girl held direct eye contact with him. It wasn’t just that she was cute, because Jesus H. Christ,she was the cutest thing he’d ever seen in his life. She had so many lovely qualities: an eleven inch height difference, a round face, Rick Moranis type glasses, and the most beautiful chocolate brown eyes that glimmered, like amber cognac, in the sunlight filtering through the double doors of the school.

There was also honest to god romance novel pining on her face, soft lips parting slightly as if she wanted to speak but had lost the words. Her body moved in closer to him, and his own reciprocated purely on instinct, inviting her into his space.

Magnetism.

Pure, unadulterated magnetism.

“None of it makes any sense does it?” He said, voice so low his lamb chop had to lean further in to hear him, “But this is Hawkins. Judgemental jackanapes abound and people like you and me are lambasted for the crime of being different. Double for you I’m guessing, since you’re the new Hispanic kid in town.”

She nodded, very solemn.

“But you know what? Right now, you are the coolest fucking person in all of Hawkins.” Eddie praised.

The solemnity on the lamb’s face became joy. He wished he had complimented her sooner, because now that he had her giggling, he caught a glimpse of a huge gap between her front teeth.

“… and that’s a hell of a smile you’ve got there. And a cute laugh to match.” He smiled.

“Quit it…” she chuckled.

“Hell no, you can’t just tell me to quit it the second I give you a compliment. Gotta take the compliments where you get them. So take it.”

There was that imperfect smile again, flashing the gap and letting loose that goddamned cute giggle. The reaction he wanted. The lamb covered up her mouth as she began to shake from trying to contain the giggles. Eddie loved people like her. Naturally giddy, as if they had taken a fat hit of reefer and had the permanent giggles. But he didn’t like how she was trying to hide those gap teeth from him. He wanted to see it. Wanted to see that smile and bask in the good feeling it gave him.

“Ah ah, none of that!” He scolded, holding up a finger, “You quit hiding that pretty face from me.”

“Nuh uh!” She giggled.

“What? You don’t want me to see your teeth?”

“No!” She said, scrunching up into a ball, “No…”

A devilish grin came over Eddie’s face.

“You gonna make me get forceful here?”

“Noooooo…!” The girl whined, laughing harder as she quickly shook her head.

Eddie creeped closer. Hands to his face and fingers wriggling in anticipation.

“You knock it off, now.” He joked, his new cadence not unlike the hicks in that one John Boorman film, “Git that hand down girl, lemme see that purty mouth.”

Eddie began to wrestle the girl’s hands from her face. The squeal of delight made him holler, laughing at the moment he was having.

“Stop! Stop!” She begged, face red, “Uncle, uncle, uncle!”

“Squeal piggy, weeeeeee! Weeeeeeee!” He cried, and she gasped when it dawned on her what terrible movie he was referencing.

There was a pause, and Eddie wondered if he’d just fucked everything up with his bad Deliverance jokes.

“A la maquina!” She exclaimed, her grin huge, “You are fucked up!”

She started laughing and trying to pull away, and Eddie realized this one’s humor was just as fucked up and dark as his was.

This was heaven. He was enjoying this, enjoying the feeling of giving in to his compulsive behavior, and not having his face slapped or being punched in the stomach for it. Instead Eddie’s lamb welcomed his touch, almost craved it. She flew into a fit of hysterical laughter when he played dirty and grabbed her by the sides, tickling her pliant abdomen so that she was forced to move her hands away from her face to shield her pudgy belly.

At the end of it, Eddie was breathless with laughter, holding the girl’s sides and swaying. Coming down from the fun, he saw the full extent of that smile for the first time. No pearly whites. Just the huge, glaring gap and yellowed edges from where the toothbrush missed.

Something real… When you find it, you can’t look away…

This was real. Eddie holding this girl by the love handles was very much real. She was warm and soft and real underneath his fingertips.

“Sweet thing.” he breathed.

The lamb cocked her head, swaying side to side as she gave him a big smile. Her eyelashes were even batting at him, and they were so thick he was again reminded of the sock puppet lamb…

“There we go.” He said softly, stroking her sides, “There’s that smile. See? Much better when you’re not hiding it behind your hands.”

“My dad calls it my Elton John face.”

“He does?” Eddie grinned.

“Yeah… y’know… because of the gap. He and my brother used to call me Honky Cat when I was eleven…”

Eddie burst out laughing.

“Honky Cat?! Oh my god… that’s goddamned adorable.”

They both laughed aloud, swaying together in each other’s arms.

“Is that your name?” He asked, getting into her face and using an exaggerated southern twang, “Are you not a sweet thang? You a Honky Cat?”

Her eyes were shimmering. There were stars in them. Whole galaxies that looked at him with sincere awe.

He’d only ever seen hungry eyes before. Only ever been desired like one desired a succulent steak or a rich slice of cake. Paige’s glance had been predatory, hungry like her mama did not bother to feed her. Last year felt like he was giving up so many vital aspects of himself trying to appeal to that hungry gaze.

He felt like an imposter. Trying to change his image so the hungry gaze wouldn’t turn away from him. He thought he wanted it, a smidgeon of acceptance and a shot at a better life. But like always, everyone had taken from him; gnawing at the bones of his exquisite corpse until there was nothing left.

Paige looked at me like she wanted to eat me…

But you…

“-jandra…” she mumbled.

“Huh?”

He leaned in closer. She was red faced, twirling a lock of brown hair already curling even though it was evident she had gone through great lengths to style her hairdo straight.

“Aleja-... um… uh… Alexandra.” the lamb said, then quickly clarified when he looked at her funny, “I forgot to-… My name is Alexandra Perea. But uh, you can call me Alex…”

He frowned a little. She was holding something back. He clocked it immediately: that wasn’t her name.

“Is that really your name…?” Eddie asked.

“Kind of.” she admitted, “Um, it’s uh… It’s what everyone around here calls me, anyway.”

“What is it like, your white name or some shit like that?”

She nodded. Looked embarrassed. Like she’d gotten caught.

“What about your real name?” he insisted, “The one on your birth certificate?”

“It’s uh… It’s Alejandra.” she said.

“And do you want to be called that?”

“I don’t really care…”

“No, you need to tell me so I’m making sure I’m calling you by the right name.” he insisted, shaking his head, “Everyone always calls me Junior, or freak, or fucking Eds. Anything except what I tell them I want to be called. Makes me mad as hell. So tell me… what do you want to be called?”

“I dunno… I… well, maybe.”

He tested the name. Alejandra. Even butchered to hell, it was sweet on his tongue.

“And you’re sure you don’t want to be called anything else?” he asked, looking her in the eye.

Alejandra paused, and then shrugged.

“Okay, well then… I’ll call you Alejandra.” Eddie said, a confident smile on his face, “It suits you. I like it. And who knows? Maybe I’ll find something fun to call you later on, if you’d like me to, of course.”

There was that look again. As if she were awestruck by him, and as shocking as the feeling was, it made him feel beautiful for a split second. He felt important. He felt valued, like he’d been the epitome of good alignment his whole life and the chaotic parts of it didn’t matter.

Alejandra looked at him like she was seeing a mythical hero. As if her village was burning to the ground all around her and he’d just come in the nick of time, clad in mithril armor, immune to the flames and devastation and ready to swoop her off her feet.

But that defiance when she first faced him, the fire, it was a strength. A raw untapped power he was drawn to. Realistically he knew if he were to swoop in it wouldn’t be to save Alejandra. It would be to help this poor, mousy girl pick up her own sword and fight alongside him.

He wanted that. He wanted someone to face the demons of the past alongside him.

Eddie wanted that someone to be her.

“ Deep in the human unconscious is a pervasive need for a logical universe that makes sense. But the real universe is always one step beyond logic. ” - Frank Herbert

[u5an5]

Of things extra: Once Upon a Witchlight Ep. 28 | Duel of the Honks

Episode | Masterlist

.

! Fair warning, this post contains SPOILERS. If you don't want to be spoiled, STOP READING !

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(Kremy): Why don't you guys like, rumble outside and, you know, have like fisticufs.

(Gideon): Well if I fisticuffs with 'im, he's gonna die.

[Chuckles]: You know what's funny, Gideon...

He blows air into his thumbs like inflating balloons, making them huge and raises them in front of him in ready position

[Chuckles]: That's exactly what a bitch would say!

Gi, angered: Alright, that's enough! I didn't wanna do it, I was gonna spare Grickos life when you're rindin' inside of his body but I'm done! When you're outside, I'll bury you in the swamp, you damn clown!

As Chuckles cartwheels his way out of the room, his Sticky Sneakers squeaking each time they make contact with the floor, Gideon absolutely furious runs out after him, chasing the sound of constant laughter and squeaks

(Torbek), panicked: Oh no, Mr. Kremy do something!

(Kremy): Ribble, I need you to get outa here and supervise, make sure nobody dies!

T: Ohhh, okay!

Torbek chases after them

.

Gideon POV

A mangrove tree stands in the middle of a patch of heavily churned mud, where rusting and rotting bits of armor and weapons are scattered. Two lengths of chain are anchored to opposite sides of the tree trunk, each with an iron shackle on the end.

But you are not prisoners. You have no need for those shackles.

Yet.

As you find yourself in the middle of this circular Proving Ground, there are rusted pieces of armor all over. Looking at this Gideon, you can say it would be useless in a fight, should you need it.

As you and Chuckles stand face to face, for the first time in life and death, able to truly fight.

Torbek runs out after you

(Torbek): Mundlemud! No, no! Gideon, please! This is important! DON'T hurt him!

(Gideon): Did you hear what he said to me?! He called me a bitch!

(Torbek): Ribble heard him, he tried to pretend he didn't, but this is serious! It's still Gricko!

(Gideon), conflicted: I- Listen. I'll just hit him so hard he just dies- kinda, and then we'll revive him!

(Torbek): Ughhh, just- Just think this throughh! Gideon can be a bigger person!

(Gideon): I'm literally bigger than him, I dunno what you're trying to do- I'll slap him so hard that Chuckles' gonna come right off his goddamn stupid clown face!!

Torbek lets out various sounds of distress while he's saying all of this

(Gideon): Forehand, backhand, doesn't matter! I'm gonna break Gricko one way or another, and he's coming back in next 12 seconds cause that's how many rounds it's gonna take!

.

(Gideon) vs [Chuckles]

(This fight doesn't use fight stats. Players roll initiative and on their turn they describe what their character is doing, which can be anything as long as it's in-character and in-universe plausible. Wherever the move hits decides d20 contest - the result is in favour of person with higher number)

.

You square up.

Torbek- Ribble, at Kremy's discretion, is guarding his friends, unsure what to do at this moment, as you two stand opposite each other in this circular arena.

Gideon, you stare down at Chuckles' body. The body of this desiccated dead clown thing. You know that somewhere in there is Gricko, but at this moment all you can see is Chuckles.

Chuckles, you stare at your arch-nemesis, Gideon. This is the man that punched you so hard in the body that you went to hell. And there really is no wine in hell

[Chuckles]: I'll never forget that fight...

He says this as starts to cartwheel in figure eights. As he stops and rights himself, his legs blow up like a cowboy, as he slowly advances towards Gideon, his sneakers squeaking with each step. On his hip appears a toy ray gun, as out of nowhere clouds transform into clown horns, playing western tune. He grabs the handle with his giant hand

[Chuckles]: Okay Gideon, how is it going to end?!

Gideon squares off, walking up so they're face to face, as the fire on his body to start rising up, lighting him up.

(Gideon): Oh, it's getting hot in here.

.

You're so excited to finally take down Chuckles, hopefully the final time. But Chuckles surprises you, as he pulls out a ray gun. Gun? What's a gun in Avantris? You’re flabbergasted. He has the fastest finger in the West. He points it, whatever it is, at you.

[Chuckles]: Hey, Gideon.

(Gideon): Yeah?

[Chuckles]: I was walking, from the carnival to the farm, and out of the bush... three pigs jumped me and devoured my flesh.

(Gideon), amused: *chuckles* That's a pretty good story so far, keep going.

[Chuckles]: IT WAS A HAM-BUSH!!!

Chuckles yells, as he puts his finger on the trigger.

.

As Kremy walks up to the arena, he's followed by about 50 bullywugs, all of them clearly members of the soggy court, as they begin to fill the stands. You see that it caught the attention of people that worked here too, and within 10-15 minutes, the stadium is filled.

Ribble, you have been outfitted with a referee uniform. You've got a whistle hanging around your neck, you've got a cap on and you're wearing a striped shirt.

You're not quite sure what you're supposed to do with this, what your expectations are, but you seem to be now in some sort of position of power.

Kremy is gifted a magical conch shell, that when spoken amplifies voice, as he tells the crowd that the event is about to start and somehow Gideon and Chuckles haven't destroyed each other yet.

They're just staring at each other, squaring off, getting ready to engage in combat.

(Gideon): *laughs* Ambush, great! Great joke, for 15 minutes I've been laughing!

Everyone has begun to settle down, the bullywugs had their hot dogs, and their peanuts, and their drinks. Everybody's excited and a hush begins to fall over the crowd, as people begin to chatter.

You all are huddled together in the middle, Kremy getting close enough to the rest so he can have a quick chat with them

(Kremy): All right, what's going on?

(Torbek): Ughh... It's pretty bad, it's pretty bad, Augluth. I'm really worried Gideon's gonna kill Gricko accidentally!

(Kremy): Well here's the thing, you've got to make sure that he beats him up until it looks like Chuckles dies, you understand? That's your job.

(Torbek), unsure: Ngh, okay...

(Kremy): Okay?

(Torbek): No, but here we go!

(Kremy), talking to the conchshell: Froggy and toad people! Are you ready to see a bloodbath?!

The audience cheers.

(Kremy): Are you ready to see something you ain't never seen before!?

The cheers louden.

(Kremy): Do you all count as witnesses, if so cheer!

After brief confusion crowd cheers, agreeing to be witnesses.

(Kremy): That's legally binding! And, begin!

Torbek blows the whistle as soon as he hears "begin".

.

[Chuckles]: We've been standing here for three hours...

(Gideon): Yeah, he's been pointing this thing for... for forever!

The thing looks like a gun, it looks clown-circus-like but it has a dark nature to it.

As blast goes out, Gideon is easily able to step aside from it (miss)

[Chuckles]: Oh, that was my 9th level spell!

As the blast hits the stairs next to the audience, it carves a straight hole through the stairs.

Watching this, Kremy and Torbek are able to hear from the audience

"Who even is fighting? They never announced who this was, how do we know who's dying?"

As the blast hits random bullywug walking down the stairs, killing him instantly, Chuckles looks at the gun with elated shock.

[Chuckles]: Man, this Shadowfell stuff is pretty intense!

(Kremy) to (Torbek): Hey, do you remember Gideons, like, "fake name"?

(Torbek): Yeah, it's, um, Mundlemud.

(Kremy): Why don't you introduce him?

Kremy throws the shell to Torbek. As he catches it, a screeching sound starts to emanate from it.

(Torbek): Sorry, Ribble got too close to the conch.

The audience is covering their ears.

(Torbek): How do you turn this thing off...

Audience starts to yell for him to shut up each time he tries to talk again and after a unsuccessful few tries he gives it back to Kremy.

Someone from the audience yells "Get your vuvuzelas!", as Chuckles points his gun at them and shoots them to death.

[Chuckles]: Oh, I'm out of turns, sorry. *looks down at the gun, pouting* Oh, it was my last use...

He says, as he throws the gun behind him. When it hits the ground faint wails are audible

.

As he dodges the blast, he charges at Chuckles, trying to wrap him with his chains. (hit)

He swirls his chain around Chuckles, binding him with his hands crossed around his head

[Chuckles]: We haven't even established our safe word!

(Gideon): Safeword for you, you greasy clown!

[Chuckles]: Banaña! Banaña! Bana-!

As Gideon pulls Chuckles towards himself, Chuckles spins directly into Gideon, as Gideon's fist sinks into Chuckles' his face, as it starts to stretch and warp under it like a water filled balloon. It seems to do a significant ammount of damage.

After being hit, Chuckles head spins around for a long while and when it stops he throws up bunch of colorful circus peanuts at Gideons face

(Gideon), disgusted: Oh, my least favourite bodily activity, ugh!

[Chuckles]: Oh, what a wonderful day for a blood bath...! Oh, Gideon! What's your favourite animal?

(Gideon): It's a pig man, I've told you like four times. You've asked me every time you took over Gricko's body, it's a pig.

[Chuckles]: Ohh... Okay, coming right up!

He blows into his thumb, trying to turn into several balloon pigs, but the chains around him are hot and melt and pop them. His face starts to melt a little.

[Chuckles]: Oh no, my plastic flesh is burning! My rubber!

He grabs his hat and pulls down onto his face, covering his entire head. When he pulls it back up his face is back to normal.

[Chuckles]: Oh, that's much better. And less graphic for the audience. I know there are some tadpoles in the audience, we have to keep it PG.

From the audience there is loud "Pretzels! Unsalted pretzels, with avocado-based mayo! Only 23 gold pieces!" from a vendor

[Chuckles]: Oh, hold on one second Gideon-

He shots the vendor dead

[Chuckles]: Okay, that was the last charge. Fuck that guy, right?

(Gideon), whining: I kinda wanted some of those man, I'ma little hungry.

[Chuckles]: Unsalted pretzels?!

(Gideon): I'd eat anything-

[Chuckles]: God, do you hate yourself?

(Gideon): For the last ti- all right, you know what? Shut up!

With his chains still wrapped around Chuckles' waist, he pulls him close to himself and punches him once again. You see his form shift and you can see bits and pieces of Gricko there, somewhere.

(Gideon): Don't worry buddy, I'm gonna beat you right back!

Few of Chuckles' teeth fall out, very Looney Tunes-style

[Chuckles]: Ugh, nice shot Gideon...

(Gideon): I won't let this horrible clown have your body even if I have to bury you!

[Chuckles]: You know what they say, I'm okay getting a little roughed up - to make an omlet you gotta break a few eggs!

In his raised arms appears a striped colorful barrel with a dark tone and he tries to smash it on Gideons head. As the barrel smashes into the ground next to him, a bunch of red monkeys come out of it. (miss)

As the monkeys hit the ground they sizzle and pop, they are clearly acidic monkeys. They let out some monkey noises and run away, with Gideon hastly jumping out of their way.

"Bloody Maries, get your Bloody Maries with one of those deep fried cheeseburgers! Only 22 gold pie-AUGH AAAH IT HURTS! AGH IT HU-! *angry monkey noises*

Stairs are littered with vendor bodies, as another one comes truffling down.

[Chuckles]: What are you waiting for, Gideon? What we'll do will echo through *HONK*ternity

His teeth are missing, blood is coming out of his eyes.

Gideon whips his chain up, sending Chuckles in the air, as he jumps up after him and grapples him

As Chuckles is sent into the air he pulls out a Simon Says sigh saying "uh oh"

As Gideon pile drives Chuckles into the earth, Chuckles' time stops for a moment. His eyes go wide as his pupils get smaller and red

[Chuckles], in his mind ala anime fight throughs: That's right Gideon, enterain them! My clown ancestors are smiling at me Gideon, can you say the same-?!

CRASH

As he's saying it, you can see Chuckles fading away. You now have Grickos body in your hands, but you realize it second too late. You can hear all of his bones snap.

(Gideon): Don't worry buddy, I'm gonna bring you back-!

Torek blows his whistle, notating the end of the battle and win for Gideon.

Gricko lays in a small crater in the ground, Family Guy-style.

.

The audience goes crazy. Everybody is cheering and screaming, you can hear "Long live Mundlemud!" "Mundlemud for the win!" "Mundlemug has a clean slate!" all around

(Kremy): That's right folks, the clown's dead and he disintegrated immediately! Leaving a goblin he must've eaten earlier or something... Anyway, thanks for coming!

"Does anyone want a full cooked chicken piccata? On a dinner plate...? Chicken piccata! Hey, hot and fresh chicken piccata, who wants some?!"

One of the bullywugs stands up and yells "Shut up, we're listening!", as he stabs the vendor in the back.

"AAGH- Agh, lemonade capers..."

You can hear bits of conversation, as bullywugs, no longer interested now that the fight is over, all begin to make their way towards the castle to prepare for other nights endeavors.

01:49:13]

.

Episode | Masterlist

[captain-mj]

Hey, your wife did a angel/demon thing and it got me thinking. Angel!Price and demon!Graves

However, instead of the usual demon corrupting angel bit, it's the Price putting Graves back in his place under him. Reminding him he will always be beneath the angels, and his rightful place is being fucked by Price

(brat!Graves??)

I love angels and demons and writing a character that believes their superior! 

For a little context since this is the same universe as my wife’s, angels and humans are at war. Demons are mostly picking the angel’s sides, but not everybody.  

~~~~ 

Price dealt with humans constantly. Killing them all without mercy. He wasn’t like his gentler counterparts. He needed to protect them. Keep them safe. 

Over the past couple of years, he felt like he had changed more than the millennias he had lived before. There was constantly something. Some human trying to break in. Some group skulking around. Broken shredded wings cut off comrades and laid out for them to find.

He learned to shove things down. He was a seraphim after all. Had been made to wage war. To burn down cities. 

Just... never expected to be fighting this particular war. He had always thought humans were interesting. Didn’t matter though. All of them were guilty. All of them got smote and God could decide who deserved heaven. 

Price thought they all deserved hell. 

So maybe, just maybe, today he wasn’t feeling like dealing with this. But he was the fucking Captain and he needed to take care of them and that meant dealing with the demon that broke in. 

The... rather attractive demon that broke in. Soft blond hair, bright blue eyes, dark clothes contrasting against pale skin. He was on his knees, cheek cut slightly. The red made a beautiful contrast on his skin. Iron shackles around his wrists kept him kneeling, not letting him raise his hands. He could see the start of welts on his skin but he ignored it. Demons were tough. Since he so confidently broke in, he deal with some pain.  

Price looked down at the demon, wings raising. Another sign he was different? Eyes appeared on his wings when they stretched, all peering down at the demon. He saw it. The flicker of fear starting in the demon’s chest. The way it flowed over his features like honey. 

“You know, I remember the old order. Do you?” He looked down at him. Graves didn’t have wings, clearly made. Freshly made from the looks of it. Probably changed at the beginning of the war. It would explain why he was still loyal to the humans.

“I know you were self righteous bastards. Thought you were better than everyone else.” Graves hissed up at him, mouth full of sharp teeth. 

Price stared down at him, wings shaking slightly. “I am better than you.”

Graves looked taken back as Price stalked closer, grabbing him by his hair. 

“You know what demons did before? Sinned. Tempted. All you had to do. But at the end of the day, everyone knew where you belonged. Underneath beings like me.” He yanked him so he had to look up, Price glaring down at him. “I play along sometimes. Have a couple of demon friends. But I’m rather tired of playing this game.”

“Thought angels were merciful.” Graves got out, looking a lot less sure of himself. 

“You don’t deserve mercy.” Price spat and unzipped his pants. What better way to get rid of some of the frustration he felt than this? 

Graves tried to yank away from him. “What are you doing??” He looked a bit nervous at how big Price’s cock was and the fact that he couldn’t really fight back. He couldn’t even get the hand in his hair to let go. 

Price stuck his finger into Graves’s mouth and forced it open, keeping his thumb between his teeth.

“Careful. You fucking cut me with those and I swear I’ll rip you apart and spread you across the goddamn cosmos.” He shoved his cock down his throat, hand coming to cup around the back of his head to keep control of him. His hair was just as soft as it looked, curling around his fingers. Price relaxed, loosening his grip so Graves would start to pull away before he pushed him back down on his cock. He could feel Graves’s nose against his hips, cock buried all the way down his throat. Graves gagged around him, but he didn’t need to breath so Price kept him there. 

Eventually, Graves relaxed his jaw, opening his mouth more and trying to swallow, eyes glazing over. 

“There you go. Nice and easy, yeah?” He said it like he wasn’t brutally fucking into his throat. His tongue pressed against him and his cheeks hollowed out. Tears started running down his face from the force of it and Price closed his eyes, grunting softly. 

“This is where you belong. On your knees.” Price pulled him by the grip on him just as he thrust in, hearing him make a harsh cry. He could feel him trying to talk, probably to cuss him out or argue. But that’s fine. He’d fuck the lesson into him eventually. 

Graves could stay tied to his bed, ready for him to come in and fuck anytime he wanted. Probably in a collar. He knew where to get ones for demons. Price didn’t plan on letting his toy go anytime soon.

He yanked him off, noticing with amusement that Graves was steadily drooling now.

“Fuck you.” How boring. He sounded hoarse though, clearly struggling.

“You can think of something better than that. Come on.” Price looked down at him, condescending as hell.  

“You’re a bitch.” 

“Well, I suppose I don’t need you to be witty to fuck you.” Price shoved back down his throat, letting go of him. “Come on. Make me feel good, whore.” Graves glared at him, but he notably started to bob his head. The chain connected to his wrists pulled taut as Graves tried to touch himself. 

“If you’re good, I’ll touch you. Now get your hands away from your fucking dick.” Graves slowly set his hands back on the floor, seeming to weigh his options. Price relaxed and let out a soft sigh. “There you go.” Graves’s tongue danced along one of the veins on his cock, those beautiful eyes peering up at him. 

Price felt himself getting close and he pulled him off. He looked at him, wings slowly relaxing.

“Are all angels this perverted? Might need to change my opinion on you guys.” Graves smiled, but it was shaky. Was he afraid?

Price unchained him and shoved him to the floor. He put one of his hands around his throat while the other shredded his clothes, wings hitting him lightly when he struggled. 

Graves grabbed his feathers and yanked, almost managing to pull a few out. Price choked him for his efforts and pinned him down with a knee on his back. He rechained his hands so they were behind his back. The iron started to burn him, making him struggle and fight before he eventually went still, letting out a small whimper.

“There you go. I’ll use rope next time.” 

Graves didn’t really have time to respond, Price immediately pressing two of his fingers into him. Like a lot of demons, Graves ran cold. His eyes turned black instead of the blue and he whined like a whore. 

Price sped up his fingers, twisting them slightly just to pull more noises out of Graves. When Graves seemed to gain some coherence, he shoved another of his fingers in, stretching him more. He purred softly and pulled away from him, leaving him kneeling again with his face on the floor. 

“I think I’ve been very good at tempting you. Is that what you want? Demons to be like this?”

“I’ll get a gag for next time too.”

Graves panted softly. “You planning on doing this again?”

Price didn’t answer. He found the oil he was looking for. He put just a little on Graves’s back to make sure it was demon safe before going back behind him.

Graves tensed, biting his lip, as Price coated his fingers and pushed them back in. He purposely used a bit too much, watching as Graves’s fingers twitch at the sensation. A small amount of it ran down his thighs and trailed his finger up, gathering it all back up before pushing it back inside him. 

Price finally straightened and lined up with him, holding his hips. “Try not to yell if you can help it.” 

“Go fuc-” Graves bit his lip to muffle the sound from Price shoving himself inside him. He whimpered at the stretch, eyes closing. 

Price tangled his hand in his hair and started to fuck into him harshly. Graves’s face twisted with pain before it slowly started to melt into pleasure. He arched his back, letting Price get deeper into him.

“There you go. Isn’t this better? Not having to think, just take my cock.” He patted Graves’s thigh and thrust in a little harder, just to enjoy the harsh sob it got from him. Graves nodded after a second, realizing he hadn’t responded and trying to hide his face from him. 

Price pulled him up by his hair so he was pressed to his chest, pretty much sitting in his lap. He moved to hold him by his throat again as he fucked up into him, wings wrapping around them both, pressing into Graves’s skin. Graves flushed and closed his eyes, arms flexing but unable to break the binds. 

His wings brushed against his cock and Graves flinched before trying to push in to the sensation. He fucked into him harder as he moved his wings closer, letting Graves rut against them. 

Price laughed and Graves only flushed more. “You’re rather pretty. Especially for a demon.”

Graves whimpered and leaned up, trying to connect their lips. 

“Tell me where you belong.” He was being harsh. He knew that. Graves was having trouble forming words as it was.

“Come on.” He put his hand around his cock, not stroking yet. Graves whimpered. “How about this, who do you belong to?”

“You.” Graves choked out. Price kissed him and started to stroke him. Graves came hard, whimpering against his mouth.” Fuck, I belong right here with you.”

Price preened and slammed into him, coming into him. He squeezed his throat hard and kissed him again.

“Yes, you do. Right here with me.”

[simbic]

...yeah once I got too deep in I just kinda forgot about the sims lol

Im going to write a very strongly worded letter to FromSoftware about Malenia

and Mohg.

Because FUCK MOHG

Out of the two of them, he was hands down the fucking WORST, but at least when I get shadow of the erdtree he'll already be out of the fuckin WAY

Stuff below, skip if you don't care lol:

To get through Malenia:

Lightest armor I had plus a talisman to increase equip load

Talismans: crits, greater attack power at low health, incantation potency

Reduvia

Golden Order Seal

White Mask

Swarm of Flies

Golden Vow

Lord's Heal

Black Knife Assassin Tiche's ashes (upgraded obvs)

Tiche IS KEY because Malenia STEALS HEALTH WHEN SHE HITS YOU (ffs), and she hits you a LOT if you can't roll away fast enough.

The skill on Tiche's blade is Blade of Death. It reduces base health by a percentage, and then does continuous damage over time, so this helps counteract the health steal. This, plus hemorrhage added up a LOT so once I landed on that combination, I then had to figure out how to deal with that god awful attack Malenia does.

The Waterfowl Dance made me so Goddamn angry, but once I could light roll, I could dodge that attack and take zero damage. When she's poised in the air preparing to perform that attack, be ready to roll back four times and the first two flurries will miss you. Roll forward and then away and the last flurry will also miss you. Dodging her regular attacks was pretty straight forward.

I also went with Reduvia because one of my friends suggested it for Mohg, and I don't do well with close combat (it's not my preferred style tbh). I have the rivers of blood katana and Eleonora's pole blade, but they didn't hit right for me. Reduvia throws out a blood arc and it was pretty effective.

Honestly, a lot of my deaths happened because I took my eyes off Malenia for like half a second. She's fast, you have to time everything, though Tiche admittedly throws off Malenia's patterns, so she might only perform the Waterfowl Dance once, or it gets interrupted.

it's just so much trial and error to get through some of these bosses oh my God. Maybe this will help someone who is stuck on either of these bosses.

As for Mohg, it was the worst, but

Banished Knight Engvall

Mohg's Shackles

Reduvia

Swarm of Flies

White Mask

Hoslow's Armor

Golden Vow

Erdtree Blessing

Lord's Heal

Purifying Crystal Tear in a mixed physick

Probably not everything, I may have had stars of ruin also, but i can't remember. Someone told me to just roll with bleed for Mohg, and i'm like, that makes NO SENSE, so I go to the wiki and wtf, he's weak to bleed damage. Like wtf, you're the LoRd Of BlOoD

do better

After that things admittedly were a bit easier. The purifying crystal tear basically neuters Mohg's three ring curse bs. He'll still perform it, and he'll still gain health, but you won't take any damage from it. If you don't have the tear, drink a flask between the second and third nihil, though it's just easier to have the tear.

Mohg's Shackles pins him down briefly so you can wail on him, but it doesn't work in the second phase. Which...HE FLIES IN THE SECOND PHASE. WOULDN'T THAT MAKE MORE--

you know what, nevermind. God, FromSoft. ugh

Golden Vow for damage and defense buff, Swarm of Flies for bleed, Reduvia for bleed. Banished Knight Engvall because he's tanky, does standard tank damage, and he can stay alive for the entire battle.

I'm finding the Mimic Tear to be a bit overrated. It was perfect in like selia where I was having issues with the vanishing sorcerers, but I've found in boss battles, they focus the Mimic Tear too much and it dies too quickly.

Frustrating as this game is, I am actually enjoying it a lot. This is my first souls like, and the trial and error, figuring out patterns and timing etc is always weirdly rewarding for me. I also really like piecing together the lore through the item descriptions and youtube etc, it gives a lot of depth to the game and I like having an explanation for why I'm doing the seemingly random thing I'm doing.

That said, I get hyper fixated on one thing when my mental health is fighting with me, and tbh it could be worse

Anyway i'm done ranting, because frankly, every time I think I've seen the worst thing in Elden Ring, it proves me wrong

[ozlices]

my mom has repeatedly dismissed the idea that she has favorites between us, and yet earlier this year she literally admitted to my face that she's prioritized my abuser over me bc she's 'going through worse stuff'.

and constantly. fucking CONSTANTLY i have to hear abt my abuser, how much she's 'changed' and 'loves me' and 'wants a relationship with me' etc etc etc

and the most draining part of all of this is that i busted my ass for multiple fucking years to finally break the shackles off and get the fuck out of here, only for a selfish, heartless, absolutely piece of utter and complete shit to damn me back here.

and now, im stuck in this cycle again. where spending EIGHT HOURS on the phone trying to get my phone shit settled, and being at my absolute fucking limit bc on top of dealing w that crap, i had to listen to my abuser and her kids screaming at the top of their goddamn lungs for the past two days, and snapping to shut the fuck up,, gets me dealing w my mother holding a grudge w me.

bc 'oh let me have kids and then maybe ill understand' IT'S LIKE THIS EVERY SINGLE FUCKING TIME SHE'S OVER HERE. AND SHE WAS LIKE THIS BEFORE SHE FUCKING HAD KIDS. THE BRUNT OF MY ABUSER WAS LITERALLY BEING SCREAMED AT AND BERATED BY HER OVER STUPID SHIT.

/IM/ THE ASSHOLE FOR BEING INSISTENT THAT SHE HASNT CHANGED ?!?!? WHEN SHE LITERALLY HASNT FUCKING CHANGED!!!?!?!?!? SHE'S /WORSE/ NOW /BECAUSE/ SHE STILL HAD KIDS ANYWAY WHEN LITERALLY EVERY SINGLE PERSON IN HER LIFE WARNED HER NOT TO BC WE ALL KNEW SHE'D BE A SHITTY PARENT. AND WOW, HUGE SHOCKER, SHE IS!!!

i made the decision when i was VERY young, but also old enough to realize just how deep rooted my trauma runs & how much it affects my responses to stress & other shit, to not have human children bc i fucking KNEW. no matter how much i try to be a nice person, no matter how good my intentions try to be, i can be very nasty. i can be harsh. i can be snappy. i can be violent. i can be completely apathetic to how my actions affect other people when i'm angry enough.

i ACKNOWLEDGE that shit. i will be the first to admit when i probably went overboard, but i am so fucking sick of being put in a position where if i dont apologize for being fucking straight up verbally, emotionally, mentally, or even physically abused, & responding to that abuse like any fucking body would, ESPECIALLY a person who has existing trauma, im an asshole.

im so. fucking sick. of being alive. this year has broken me. it really, truly fucking has. i lost EVERYTHING. i dont even have a fucking doctor. i am back in the house all my trauma happened in, damned by someone i thought was my best friend who looked me dead in my eyes a month after my daughter died in my arms & told me damning me back to the house every traumatic thing ive ever gone to 'wasnt her problem'. & having to be put right back in the cycles i brutalized myself to get out of.

and the worst fucking part is that this year has left me in such shambles from stress, i physically cannot pick myself up anymore. my alters can't pick themselves up anymore. we are all so fucking burnt out, and it is so fucking draining to lie to ourselves that hope is worth it when we had it all stripped away from us repeatedly in such brutal ways. nonstop. i swear to the moon herself, i mean it when i say not one single day this entire year has been peaceful. has been free from some degree of pain, or straight up agony.

i am tired of beating myself up for being angry. i am tired of being berated by other people for being angry. FUCK all of that shit. this year, and the shitty people who refuse to fucking offer me the same empathy they DEMAND from me, have fucking destroyed me. and i DESERVE TO BE FUCKING PISSED OVER THAT SO I FUCKING WILL BE IM FUCKING PISSED FUCK THIS YEAR FUCK MY ABUSER FUCK HER GODDAMN DEFENDERS FUCK THE BITCH WHO DAMNED ME HERE FUCK MY ENTIRE LIFE IT'S NEVERENDING BULLSHIT AND IM TIRED OF ACTING LIKE ANYTHING THAT'S HAPPENED TO ME WAS OKAY OR THAT I HAVE TO BE OKAY WITH IT!! NONE OF IT WAS OKAY!! IM NOT FUCKING OKAY WITH IT!! NOBODY FUCKING WOULD BE!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[gust-jar-simulator]

Somebody liked my post on evil Red so here’s a teaser for Penumbra, featuring Legend and Blue.

-🐇❄️🧊❄️🐇-

Legend… really didn’t know what to think of his new captors. He’d been expecting a cell, maybe some shackles. At worst, fucked up dark magic and torture devices. This room was certainly functioning as his cell, but there were rugs and little seating poufs and a slightly-better-than-shitty bed, all in alarming shades of pastel that clashed horribly with the bare stone and rune-enforced door.

If he thought about it too hard he felt like a pet, so he didn’t. No need to tempt the already sadistic gods.

He’d heard the three shadows bickering outside his door maybe an hour ago- the greenish one had been throwing his authoritative weight around, it sounded like, demanding an interrogation, but the other two had headed him off with mentions of “Vio” and the game and something about hospitality that had devolved into a shouting match. At this rate he was just sort of hoping they remembered Hylians needed to eat. Why invent future horrors when he could wait patiently and see them for himself?

He was busy considering the cracks in the walls when the door finally creaked open on heavy hinges, and the blue one hustled into the cell with a platter of something, collapsing back against the door with a harried sigh that echoed strangely.

“Fuck everything,” the ice-encrusted shadow hissed, “but fuck that guy in particular.”

“Trouble in paradise?”

The dark’s head snapped up, frozen eyes gleaming with a sick milky film. “Excuse you?”

“Oh, sorry,” the veteran drawled. “I meant to say the weather’s so nice today.” He leaned back on the bed, eyeing the windowless walls appreciatively. “Kind of monastery chic meets little girls’ tea party. Bold choice for a prison, I like your moxie.”

With an utterly disgusted noise, the dark stepped forward to drop the platter a little too roughly on a tea table- mostly fruits, nuts, and a few mushrooms, with an entire waterskin instead of a cup. He then straightened a chair, a doily, and gave a rug in the corner a particularly severe look like he was resisting the urge to completely pull it up, hands flexing a couple of times.

Legend watched with great interest as he hissed between his teeth again, icy vapor misting in the air. “This is stupid. We both know this game is fucking stupid.”

Well. He wasn’t expecting one of his captors to crack so soon. “I’m the guy in a box.”

“Yeah?” There was a crunching, grinding noise as the shadow turned to glare at him sightlessly, clear water dripping from a crack in his stony neck. “Well our guy in your box is a massive fucking problem, because I give it a week max before Red or Green or both can’t handle the fucking temptation of a good guy on our turf.”

He liked to consider himself a reasonable guy. Villains typically didn’t have much worthwhile to say but gloating or breakdowns of their own weaknesses, and this was decidedly the latter but far too soon. He frowned. “Uh. What about you? Gonna give in and eat me or something?”

“You wish I’d eat you.” Blue- that had to be his name- started pacing, rugs glittering with frost as he started wearing a trench in the floor. “If I had my way I’d drop you right back on the Goddess’s golden tits. Or a ditch. But the game’s been set, and there’s rules to this shit, so here you are and here I am and Vio is pulling a goddamned stunt that will get us all killed.”

Legend dragged over a pillow and propped it behind his back. “Do I get a reward if I pretend to be empathetic or something? Is this group therapy or just a you thing.”

Blue made a noise like a feral boar, and the temperature dropped so fast his ears popped.

Right. Unknown and unpredictable shadow monsters with possible elemental affinities. That. Legend swallowed, and licked his dry lips.

Dragging his compusure together, thread by tenuous thread, Blue took several deep breaths that fogged the air around him like the cloudy crown of a mountain. “I mean this in the most genuine way you’ll ever hear: watch your fucking mouth, you stupid piece of shit.” He marched closer, cold as rain and twice as unpleasant, to stand a respectable foot away from the bed and glare down at him. “I’m a lovely spring flower compared to the rest because I don’t want shit to do with you. Your only fucking use to me is collateral for my teammate’s health. Green thinks you might be useful. You don’t want to be useful.” He leaned down slightly, voice lowering like someone could hear. “Red wants to be friends, but if you get uppity you’ll wish he’d just killed you. And I won’t stop him, because I love him more than I care about your fucking well-being. Get me?”

“Gotten.” He was very, very uncomfortable having a possible ice elemental within spitting distance, but heroes thrive under pressure. He could work with this. He could sit put and be boring, or he could push his shitty luck. The man leaning over him was cracked like oracle bones. “What about Dark? Should I be expecting courting gifts?”

“Dark doesn’t know you’re here.”

What. Did they sneak him into the enemy’s base for fun?

They’d been calling it a game from the start.

Shit.

Shit.

[cannonfullofcanons]

@indomitus-ferox inquired: “Hey, look at me, okay? Stay with me; it’s gonna be okay, just stay with me... ” ( from Noble Six to Noble One, because I had to )

send in " hey, look at me, okay? stay with me, it's gonna be okay, just stay with me... " ( OR if your muse wouldn't say this: 💧 + [WHATEVER YOUR MUSE WOULD SAY] ) for the sender to find the receiver badly wounded or dying from unexpected yet serious injuries. | Accepting!

         How had he gotten here? He remembered flying; the pelican was shot to hell. Fuel was leaking, it wouldn't stay airborne for long. Words echoed in the back of his mind, faded, vague, but he could just make it out.

         Hit 'em hard, boss.

         Emile's voice. Even swimming in darkness, an inch from death, he felt a surge of emotion. Had they made it? Had they survived? And more importantly, did they accomplish the mission? After all they'd endured, he had a longing to know. To be sure his sacrifice wasn't in vain. It was stupid, selfish; emotions he'd cast aside long ago, before he even underwent augmentations as a SPARTAN. Yet there they were, lurking in the depths of his dying mind.

         Another voice came, from beyond the darkness. It's gonna be okay. This voice, he recognized as well. Noble Six. He strained against the newly-returning pain. The shackles of death, shaken off, if only briefly. Though his eyes were open, he could scarcely see; yet, his eyes felt fine. The possibility of brain damage occurred to him. It had been one hell of a crash.

         Why was she here? They had a mission. He should be dead, and they should be getting off-world on the Pillar of Autumn. Jun was already off-world with Halsey, God willing. So why had she come back for him? And for that matter, how exactly had he survived? His last memory was of flames engulfing him, and the world fading to black in an instant. Even the armor he wore shouldn't have saved him from that.

         Had he just...gotten lucky?

         Carter forced his eyes open wider with a heavy cough, throwing blood from his mouth with each spasm of his chest. "Hell, Lieutenant...don't sugar coat this." As his vision started to come into focus, he noted the jagged metal piecing through his chest on the right side. How he'd survived the crash, he'd never know, but with this, he doubted he'd live long enough for it to matter. He'd used up the last of his biofoam to keep flying that pelican, after he'd been shot.

         "You shouldn't have come back, Six. Waste of time. Where's the package - Emile? Did you get it to the Autumn? If you tell me you let that ship leave you here, just so you could come back for--" He's interrupted by further, spasming coughs. "Goddamn it. ... Finding me was like finding a needle in a haystack. But we're just as dead either way. Find a pelican, steal a dropship, something - but whatever you do, get the hell off this rock. That's...an order, Lieutenant."

         Carter's eyes begin to grow unfocused; vision fading in and out, but he's holding on. He's slipping back into that inky darkness, only this time, it's not foreboding. It's welcoming. As if calling him home. He didn't want to die, especially if there was chance he could still help. But given his current predicament, the odds seemed to be tipped rather heavily against him. His breathing slows, and he cracks a fleeting smile. "I'll...give Kat and Jorge your regards, Six. Give those Covvies hell. Show 'em...Noble isn't gone yet."

[understandableparadox]

bottom of the barrel isekai review #3

Todays review: Choose your heros carefully

two BLs in a row... i would make a gay joke at my own expense but i'll be real, gay trash is soooo much more palatable as a whole then straight trash and i'm confident enough in whatever nebulous concept i've adopted as my sexuality to say that with something resembling pride.

so what's on the chopping block? utterly psychotic middle aged men reincarnated in a world ripe for their exploitation? perhaps a swarm of hyper busty vixens parading about on the strings of someone who has no idea how to utilize them? a magic system based on some mmo where its way to clear the author was bullied in or vaguely believed a certain class should be the strongest?

SUPRISIE! WE ARENT EVEN LOOKING AT TRASH TODAY YOU UTTER HEATHENS, WE ARE LOOKING AT SOMETHING VAGUELY COOL, I FUCKING TRICKED YOU, WE AREN'T AT THE DUMPSTERS WE ARE AT THE FARMERS MARKET AND WERE HITTING THE ANTIQUE STORE, GENDER AMBIGUOUS PARENTAL FIGURE WANTS TO PICK UP SOME VINTAGE COOKWARE TO SPICE UP THE GODDAMN KITCHEN

Ramblings aside, my established format usually stats that we have a short opening related to the title then a not so brief summation of the story, but this time the summation of the story will in fact be nothing more than a summation, as I genuinely think you should go ahead and read through this title.

our titular hero shane has been bullied by his friend to play test his beta for a gacha game

a game in which you use magical stones to revive ancient heroes and command them to destroy a collection of horrors from some demonic realm.

shane awakens after a long day of Gameing and finds that he is now stuck within this world, a magical divine sheep provides him after some prodding some game functions, along with a single stone to summon his first hero. from there, the trio set off to solve the darkness of the world and find a way to return back to whence they came. solveing the other mysteries and oddities the world holds for them.

and that's it, you ain't gonna learn a single thing more about this story from me, get the fuck out of my house...

well i'm not done yet and a little bit of this will be spoilers.

ok so why do I like this? the action is bad, the art isn't anything to write home about, the armor and weapon design makes me want to curl up in a small hole, bury me gentle please...

Well as i think i've said prior, A lot of things can be hidden if you have enough meat on the bones of it, to the point where i can ignore the guts of it being playdough and the skin being saran wrap you splashed paint over.

the story itself is overwhelmingly interested in how a world that functions through mmo and gacha logic would work. what happens when you can summon someone who is truly the pinnacle of humanity through shear luck? what about the common rabble that are only lucky enough to be able to afford one pull and end up getting some D grade shitterton, Bob the Spackle artist, special skill Crack Spackle.

what about the fact that you can just tell them to attack things and you can take a nap in the middle of a low grade dungeon? the concept of auto play but introduced to the idea of the world at large.

now lets pull out form smaller game concepts, the heroes are the only ones that can defeat the shadows, and only the summoner can control the heros. meaning that the heroes can only be as heroic as the summoner. a brave man shackled by those who even the gods have abandoned.

what about the towns in games that dont have the right vendors? the ones that cannot give the player things they want, the areas without bazaars or weapon shops or summoning areas or shop functions, what happens to them if they have no draw to keep players in them?

these are the questions that the manhwa loves to explore and I love exploring them with it. now, on to our normal questions.

"Is the underlying story, barring any other concept, good?"

Yes, its both a compelling romance with both the main character and the main love interest being good fits for each other with interesting flaws and qualities. they are not perfect and that makes them fun to follow. even without the romance the story has enough aspects for you to follow if you want to ignore the twinks prancing around.

 "on a sliding scale of min to max, how much is the author using this to explore fetish" 

0, big goose egg. unless the author has a fetish for being held in their sleep then yeah i guess thats a thing.

"How many story crutches does the author use to explore the story" 

I cant exactly see any noteworthy crutches, even the normal "game aspects" thing is something they have to specifically work towards within the story.

 "Is the author attempting to use the story as a way to explain why he is not weird."

they are trying to say that gachas are bad and I for one believe they should say it fucking louder for the rest of the world to hear.

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I am now going to be taking isekai requests to review on top of the ones I have set aside for myself to review. to submit an isekai, please send it to me as an ask with the site where I can read through it.

[mumufic]

Captive Prince AU - ereri style

I've been rereading my old shit and I once live-wrote a Captive Prince AU for ereri and goddamn, this is some good shit.

This is a reverse age gap slave fic. Eren is Damen and Levi is Laurent.

You can read the full thing on the Ereri Nation Discord Server (invite on their Twt page).

"If I ask you... whatever it is... you will give it to me?" Levi nods profusely, his hands clasped together. Truly just a boy looking for approval.

Eren sighs and turns away. "Then give me my freedom."

The request seems to take Levi aback, but he rallies quickly, nodding once more, though a little less enthusiastic than he was before. "I... of course! You saved my life, Eren! At the expense of yours."

"I saved your life because you're a person who deserves saving," Eren replies. "It's what a slave must do, what a slave is expected to do for his master, is it not?"

Levi looks like he's been slapped. "I... I haven't..."

"What?" Eren shoots back. "You haven't treated me like a slave since we set out for Orvud? Or you don't think me a slave since I saved your miserable hide from those MPs?"

He holds up his shackles, the gold glinting brilliantly in the candlelight.

"Do you see this? Do you know what it feels like to have this around you? To have this - " he tugs at the collar at his throat " - choke you in your sleep making you feel as if you might never wake for how it pinches your throat, how it chokes off your air and drown you in the hopelessness that you may never get out, never taste the morning without this digging into your neck? We need to end this charade, Levi. You know. Don't stand there and gape at me like a fish. You know who I am."

He reaches over. Grips Levi by the throat. Levi's pale neck is slender, delicate. Eren could crush it in his grip easily.

"Tell me who I am."

He feels the bob of Levi's throat working as he stares up at Eren, towering over him now. "You're Eren... my slave bought for me by my Regent..."

Eren tightens his fist, the barest of threats. He doesn't want Levi buying himself time to face the truth.

"...And the Crown Prince of Shiganshina! The man who murdered my father!"