#ghost x python

[the-whispers-of-death]

Transfer Him (Or Not)

A/N: For context, here is Python's introduction Ghost. And here is Python's basic info post.

*****************************************************************

It took Ghost two days of putting up with Python before he stomped towards Price's office. He practically threw open the door, glowering at the captain for what he has had to put up with from the American medic.

"Transfer him." Ghost growled out as he stalked towards Price's desk.

Price looked up from where he writing a report. "'Him" who? Be more specific, there's all men here in this task force," he replied, amused with his own joke. He chuckled for a bit before turning serious, raising a brow at his lieutenant. "Is it Soap? I thought you liked him now."

Ghost scowled beneath his mask, crossing his arms. "I do and I was talking about that bastard American medic," he grumbled.

"Python?" Price couldn't help it, he burst out into laughter, which only made Ghost more irritated. He had his laughing fit for a whole minute before he wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes, his smile forming on his face. "You want me to transfer Python?"

"Yes," Ghost said gruffly, not understanding why Price found it so funny.

"No."

"What? Why not?"

Price's amusement was gone now, his hands moving around some paperwork on his desk. He waited until he was sure Ghost was seriously asking the question. "Ghost, I can't transfer Python," he explained, his words careful. "For one, I didn't transfer him to us in the first place, Laswell did, and secondly, a medic would be good for us. You and Soap barely made it out alive in Las Alamas. So he's staying, no matter how much you don't like him."

Ghost growled at that, very upset by Price's logic. "I don't trust him. The last American we trusted was Graves, and we all know how that turned out," he said.

"Do you trust me, Ghost?"

"Without question."

Price smiled at that, knowing he could always count on his lieutenant to trust him. "Then trust that I know you'll end up liking Python," he replied. "Besides, you don't even know him well enough to hate him. He's only been here for two days."

Ghost grumbled again. "I know him enough to know he's a mysterious bastard."

"Ah, so you two have that in common," Price said, his smile widening into a grin at the playful glower Ghost threw his way for that comment. He chuckled. "Just... Try to be nice, okay? You wouldn't want to piss off a medic, Ghost. Trust me."

Ghost nodded and then left the office so Price could get back to work. He decided to head to the base hospital, heading out of the building he was in and making his way over to the base hospital.

He walked inside the base hospital and made it to the office that was designated as Python's. As he walked there, Soap came out of the office with Gaz in tow, Soap having his hand bandaged.

"What happened to you?" Ghost asked, frowning at Soap's bandaged hand. He went to grab it to get a closer look but Soap pushed his hand away with his good one.

Soap gave Ghost a cheeky grin. "It's nothing, mate. A simple second-degree burn from a cooking accident," he told Ghost nonchalantly. "I just went in to see the doc to get it bandaged."

Gaz interjected, rolling his eyes. "I brought him to Python," he explained his presence there. "Soap wasn't even going to treat it and I had to drag him to Python's office."

"You're such a tattletale, Gaz," Soap complained, his voice almost a whine. He then turned to Ghost, a curious glint in his eyes. "Why are you on your way to Python? Injured, aye?"

Ghost playfully pushed at Soap's chest. "My business is my business," he said, warning Soap not to push for details.

Soap merely smiled, used to Ghost's evasiveness. "You and Python are similar in that respect. A pair of men who want to remain as mysterious as possible."

Ghost rolled his eyes and bid goodbye to Gaz and Soap, Gaz playfully dragging Soap back to the barracks. He watched them leave before walking up the office door, knocking, and entering.

"You injured?" Python asked as soon as Ghost stepped in, lifting his head up from where he was putting away the bandages and gauze back into the drawer of his desk. "And on a scale from one to ten, how bad is it?"

"You know, most medics are less harsh when it comes to asking how bad an injury is." Ghost couldn't help but have a little bite in his voice, feeling annoyed whenever Python was in his vicinity.

Ever since he met the man, Ghost had this need, this itch, and he could only assume it was because they were so similar that Ghost hated it with a passion. And yet, Ghost found himself wanting to be closer.

He pushed down that sudden urge, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. "Anyways, I'm not here because I'm injured," he said, eyeing the taller man.

Python finished putting away the bandages and gauze back in the drawer of his desk, closing the drawer before giving Ghost his full attention. He still had on that damned mask and balaclava that made Ghost all that aware of how similar they were. "Okay, why are you here then?" he asked, moving around his desk to sit on the edge of the surface of said desk.

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm... I'm going to try to get along with you," Ghost blurted out awkwardly, at a loss for words. He was never a talker anyways.

"Okay," Python said after a minute of waiting for Ghost to say more.

"Okay? That's all you have to say?"

And there Ghost was, getting irritated with Python all over again. It was like there was an inferno in his chest, an emotion he couldn't describe but was so intense that it made him so irritable to the way Python was so cagey.

"Bloody hell," Ghost exclaimed, unable to help the rush of emotions. He threw his arms up in the air in a "I give up" gesture and turned away from the infuriating man. "It's like talking to a wall! Fine, keep yourself locked away, see if I care."

With those words, he stomped out of the office, slamming the door shut. Despite his irritation, Ghost's lips couldn't help but twitch into a small smile when he heard Python curse at the door being slammed shut.

So the medic does express some emotion, Ghost thought to himself. Interesting.

*****************************************************************

A/N: This was longer than I thought it would be. But have this, Ghost not understanding what emotion he's feeling. He doesn't like his questions being brushed off by Python, but he doesn't understand that he too does that to others. But also, what was Python supposed to say in response, Ghost, huh? I still love Ghost, it's fine.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and request something! (Check the rules in "Rules for Requesting NSFW" before requesting.)

[sonnenflamme]

This might be a bit niche, but oh well:

Complaints to @spicy-enshulada for encouraging me >:)

[yonderghostshistories]

Here's my shittyly-made funni meme about shipping my 2 favourite tired, DILFY Army Dads, The Colonel and The Captain! Enjoy!

(can you tell that I'm thirsting very carnally for these pretty Bois yet?)

[rcehb-art]

canon event. source: trust me bro.

- monty python and the holy grail

[amphitriteswife]

💛🧡Rejection🧡💛

Tagging: @praisethesuuun @mizz-sea-nymph @nicasdreamer @swallowtail-lotus

I know i made it male reader but feel free to see your oc sunny!😈

Apollo x male! Reader.

Apollo, god of the Sun, one of the 12 olympians and twin brother of the moon goddess herself, Artemis. That’s what he was most known for. Yet many forgot he was so much more than that. For example being the god of medicine, music, boys, knowledge and so much more. He was well loved among the ancient greeks. Often seen as the male beauty. In many of his famous tales Apollo falls in love with a man or woman, yet it always ends badly for them, causing Apollo to have them turned into flowers. Yet despite all the recognition, the glorious tales of him defeating the monster Python… he wasn’t always a saint.

Clutching your bow in one hand, you looked at the boar you just hunted. The boar was usually a symbol or offer to the lady Artemis herself. Once again, failing to have an offer for the god you worship. It was tiring and disappointing. Now it was a waste if you didn’t do anything with the now dead boar. Until the idea hit you that you might offer it to Artemis without entering her temple as only women or her priestesses are allowed to enter in. Walking in the direction of the temple you met one of the priestesses, giving her the boar and turning on your heel to go back to train with your bow, yet you couldn’t help but feel as if you were being followed. It was an uneasy feeling in your gut that told you to keep watching who was behind you. Ignoring the feeling but not the suspicion, you clutched your bow and narrowed your eyes. The sudden sound of leaves rattling made you alert as you quickly raised your bow, pulling out an arrow and aiming at the source of the sound, your hand pulling on the string before firing the arrow without missing a beat.

Steading your breath, you listing closely, hearing the sound of your arrow hitting something followed by a rather loud and dramatic ‘OW’ which made you a bit stunned before you hesitantly walked into the direction of where you shot your arrow. Moving some of the leaves and bushes you could finally see…a naked man in the lake? The sight was honestly a little baffling since most of the warriors were already back at the training camp, and not to mention the light shade of the pink hair which was a unusual color for human hair, walking closer you could see the little red liquid in the pond water, slowly getting thinner the more it stayed in the water. Following the trail of blood you could recognize seeing your own arrow in the right shoulder of the man. The man seemed confused as to why he suddenly got hit by an arrow. Your arrow. Guilt filled your being as you walked closer to the man, wanting to help him stop the bleeding yet when you were about to call him out he pulled out the arrow himself. His hand hovered over the cut before a yellow light surrounded the area where he ws hurt, the wound slowly closing under the dim light.

Suddenly, the man turned behind him. Staring at you wide eyed. He had hazel pupils, something that was rare, yet not unusual. You too stared back at him shocked. Who the hell was this man? Was it a magician? A witch? Should you tell someone? This can’t be real. This cannot be happening. ‘You look like you saw a ghost…well I’m even better.’ The man spoke to you, his hazel eyes focused on you. He had sharp features and a cocky arrogant smirk playing on his thin yet pink lips. He had a nice, lean yet muscular body and his voice was smooth and almost velvety…it made your head a little light and dizzy. ‘Are you feeling alright mortal? Can’t have you passing out on me?’ He told you in a hearty chuckling tone. He was suspicious. He must’ve done something to you. Your vision was a little clouded and your head felt heavy. ‘What have you done to me?’ You asked him placing one hand on your head. Massaging it a little. Your eyes focused on the suspicious man. The man Hmph-ed and scoffed. Closing his eyes, seemingly hurt and offended that he was accused of something like that.

‘I didn’t do anything, you idiot. Who do you take me for? That’s no way to talk your god!’ he said to you, crossing his arms and keeping his head high. How arrogant! And why is he claiming to be a god? That’s disrespectful! Claiming to be a god is highly disrespectful and insulting to your religion. ‘You can’t just claim you’re a god mister. It’s disrespectful.’ You told him carefully which made him scoff at you. ‘I’m no pretender! Seriously who do you take me for! It’s me! Apollo! Your lord! Your sweet, charming, loving, amazing sun god!’ Apollo told you proud fully, his strawberry pink like hair glistening in the waters. But he couldn’t help but chuckle when he looked at your flabbergasted face. His arms reached out to your body and he pulled you in the water with him. His hands on your broad shoulders while he looked you deep into your eyes, his face held a confident smirk and his hands soon began to make its way to your face, cupping it slightly. ‘Keep your god company, won’t you?’ Apollo asked you softly whispering in your ear. The sudden action once again made your head spin.

There was no denying that Apollo was attractive and charming….and seductive. But it was still highly Inappropriate to have something with the god you worship. Would you be allowed to go into the temple again? What if you end up like most of his lovers who have met unfortunate fates? Dying isn’t something you wanted…even if being with your god seemed like a dream. Would it really be a good choice to accept? Is that really what you want? So many questions yet so little answers. It made you dizzy and uncomfortable which cause you to take a fews steps back which made the god stunned. ‘I don’t know if that’s what i want...’ You told him slowly and carefully. You didn’t want to make quick and reckless decisions.. there was too much at stake. ‘I decline. I’m sorry my lord’ You told him carefully but firmly. Even if you loved your god, it was still platonic and admiration. Not romantic love like he hoped.

To not make the situation worse you walked out of the waters, apologized for the arrow and took your leave. Leaving Apollo, even if it was still hard to process in your state of disbelief that it was really him, alone in the waters who was confused himself. Apollo was never rejected by anyone, causing him to have a stir of mixed emotions. He was hurt that you didn’t feel for him. Yet also angry you had the audacity to reject him. Yet also admiration that you wanted to put yourself first. He himself felt strange, but he was a powerful and confidant being. And rejected won’t a final answer. After all. In Apollo’s myths he never took no for an answer either…

🌻Thank you for reading! 🌻

[pumpkinbxtch]

𓇼 the sun & the sea 𓇼 〰✷〰

— apollo / lester x daughter of poseidon!reader

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

☆ radiostar is playin': forever always by the driver era…!

warnings: none taglist: @emidpsandia

He, apparently, was dead missing.

"He went alone on the mission with Python. He hasn't returned for three days now." A month later, Meg contacted you through an Iris message and explained everything that had happened. A month later and the days passed, nobody knew about him.

"We only know that he retrieved all the Oracles and the gifts of prophecy returned," Chiron told you, and Dionysus, for the first time, looked nervous and worried about his brother.

But if Apollo had succeeded in his mission, where was he? You hadn't dreamed of him either. Days went by and your anxiety grew.

"I didn't agree, but my brother insisted on pushing him to the limit," Poseidon said seriously, and Percy replied, "I think he took it too literally, don't you?" You suppressed a groan while your father scolded your brother with his gaze. Python was gone forever, but they knew nothing of Apollo.

"It's okay, it's only been five days," you thought, but you realized that every day you did it with a new number and without any news until almost two weeks had passed... Honestly, you didn't know how many times you had cried in all that time, you didn't even bother to hide it, and even your roommate requested a room change.

Lately, the time was bad in every sense. Thunder rumbled, and you hugged the pillow tighter, tears already rolling down your cheeks. The room was colder than usual; after all, you were alone in it. You accompanied yourself with the dim light of your desk lamp, and the flash of lightning illuminated the darkest corners. You realized you were crying over too many things, everything was very recent, you hadn't even finished processing Jason's death, and those lightning bolts... all they did was remind you of it.

"Wasn't it enough with him?" You wondered as you let out your sobs. Jason was his son just like Apollo, and if he led them both to death just to reaffirm his authority to everyone, you had no doubts that Zeus was a cruel father. The thunder shook the window, and you closed your eyes in anger, not retracting anything, even if Zeus annihilated you with one of his lightning bolts, you would never do so. Probably beyond, on Olympus, your own father struggled with annoyance with his brother, but even if Poseidon wasn't half the father that Paul was to you and Percy, he would never allow you to be harmed.

Your tennis sounded against the wet sand of the path leading to your favorite café. You walked in a ghost town with a hollow chest and the cold penetrating your bones, but it didn't matter because you already felt like those skeletons that Nico brought to the surface when he was in a bad mood; anyway, you moved forward to have a hot chocolate, it was Sunday, you had to have enough strength for classes the next day.

— Here it is — the lady said when you had just formed in line at the bar. You frowned and shook your head.

— Surely it's for someone else, I just got in line.

The girl smiled and looked at the label.

— Hot chocolate? —she asked in the waiting line, and no one recognized it, she returned to you and handed it to you again. — It was ordered in advance.

A joke from Frank? Frank didn't make jokes. But if it were, how did he know what you wanted?

You took it and looked at the label, it had a sun drawn on it that made you purse your lips. "Of course, it had to be," you thought bitterly and walked back taking the long way, the one that passed by the small Tiber.

The sunlight barely reflected on the water after all it was covered by the clouds, and you sighed as you looked at the huge body of water, your chest hurt. How did this happen? You would be better off if you hadn't entered that Grove, but you had to do your will, but you wouldn't have had those days with Apollo, which provoked mixed emotions in you again.

"this rhymes for him were different, but he hopes for put that ring and find what he's been missing."

— If you wanted to marry me so much, come back and do it — you murmured with your nose buried in your scarf and tears stinging your eyes. You cut your step and faced the river that continued to shine coldly, the small cup you held slipped from your hands with each sob, and when you let out the first whimper, you let it go. However, it didn't fall. You gasped, and when you looked beside you, your breath left you.

Of those brown curls, only a few remained mixed with the blond ones, of the freckles you counted that last time you had him too close, there were only about three hundred instead of a thousand. He was taller, and his body more athletic, but he wore the same Led Zeppelin t-shirt and ripped jeans from the knees. His smile was big and triumphant, the same blue eyes you had been waiting to see were just trying to memorize your fractions in the same way you were doing with him.

— And are you serious or are you just fooling me?— His voice. You threw yourself into his arms without considering if he could be hurt, but judging by how he looked... then you took him by the shoulders, he foolishly thought you would kiss him, but you just leaned back and kicked him in the chest with the skill that only you could have.

He groaned on the ground in a fetal position, and seconds later, he rose on his elbows with a confused look.

— Idiot — you shouted as you walked towards him and knelt to be at his height. Apollo couldn't help but smile like an idiot, and you couldn't help but hug him again. — Where the hell were you?

Your whimpering caused guilt in his chest, and he took care of your head as both lay back on the grass. He stroked your hair as you clung to his chest, wishing his scent would imprint on you to never forget it.

— Hey…— He called you, and you looked up, noticing tears in his eyes too. You cupped his cheek and, before he could say anything else, you kissed him. The first kiss. He closed his eyes, completely surrendered to you, feeling like he could finally breathe freely after months. When your soft lips left his, he held you tightly, burying his face in your neck. You couldn't see it, but Apolo had a flushed face and a knot in his stomach.

But you didn't need to see it, because as he hid in you, the sun broke through the clouds, shining brightly, almost lighting up the whole world with brighter colors than before. It was with that detail that you confirmed he had become a god again, and his feelings were showing to you in too many ways.

— I…— You spoke after several minutes of silence, causing him to sit properly on the grass with you, holding your hand. — I do want to be with you. I'm not just messing around, just so we're clear.

— Do you have an alternative? — He joked, and you gently pushed him while nervously looking at your hands.

— Fool.

— For you, of course — he cooed as he took your chin in his hand and forced you to look at him. His cheeks were still flushed, but you noticed that his skill to seduce without seeming like an inexperienced teenager had returned, and that's where your first jealousy arose because you wished only you could have that side of him.

— And only for me, I'm sure — you grumbled under your breath at having that thought, and he laughed.

— I was born to love only you, believe me.— Apollo said, getting up and offering his hand to help you. — And just like art, I'll be faithful to you.

— Wow, what a great poet — you took his hand, and he took you by the waist, bending down to touch his nose to yours. You never believed in the expression "like a Greek god" until he looked at you in that way.

— Are you going to marry me? — He stroked your nose with his while gently squeezing your waist. You nodded silently like a fool, and he gave you a peck on the lips with a smirk. — I just wanted to make sure, but actually, I don't need any of that to be devoted to you. You're everything to me.

He took your hand and led you along the edge of the small Tiber, which now shone fervently.

•

— Apollo! — You shouted from the reception of the mansion on Olympus, closing the big door forcefully and looking at your husband playfully peeking behind his throne.

— Yes, dear? — You pursed your lips and approached him.

— Where are my things?

— Which ones? — He played dumb, and you sighed.

— From my bedroom at the university, where are they?

—In your room...— you raised an eyebrow — here.

You growled and pulled him to come out from behind the throne.

— I told you it would be until I graduated.

Apollo pouted and slumped his shoulders.

—But I miss you.

You smiled and hugged him.

— I miss you too, but— you stepped back and showed the ring on your ring finger —I have this, darling, and that's enough to scare off my classmates. I don't need to come down from Olympus every day when I can be in the dorms.

Apollo nodded regretfully.

— Alright, alright...— he snapped his fingers and smiled at you — everything is already in your silly university dorm.

You smiled and gave him a kiss. As you started making your way to the exit, he sighed.

— I'll see you tonight — he shouted, and you turned around smiling.

The Sun illuminates the beauty of the sea but never tries to contain it, and the sea shows the sun that even in the stormiest moments or the darkest nights, its light never fades.

[boozenboze]

I've been thinking about this, so basically what about the 141 reacting to the reader who used to work either really dangerous reptiles? Like he used to be a snake handler, or crocodile wrester stuff like that, also he has a ton of scars from tho past jobs. Thank you 😊

Tf 141 x ex!Herpetologist!pMale reader

Summary:While on patrol you and the rest of 141 run into a rattlesnake.They are suprised when you tame it and you later have to explain that you usef to work with reptiles

Females She/Her snd She/They DNI

Before you joined the military you used to be a zoologist.Specifcslly a herpetologist since you worked with reptiles.You’ve worked with aligators,snakes,iguanas,any reptilian that comes to mind you’ve worked with.After a few years of doing that you quit your job since you wanted to do something more thrilling.So thats why you joined the military.

A few years had passed since you joined and during that time you had joined Task Force 141.When Price first saw your file the first thing he found was interesting about you was your past occupation.He does still question why someone of your previous occupation would wanna transition to something so dangerous.It was your decision though so he didn’t have much reason to judge.It was also mentioned that you had a snake with you as well.

When you met the rest of Task Force Soap, Gaz took an immediate liking to you. They asked a lot about your previous profession and you were happy to inform them. Gaz was quite nervous when you said that you had your own snake with you. Apparently, you owned a 20ft Burmese python and it was currently just slithering around in your room. That is one of the most dangerous snakes in existence for wuite obvious reasons.They would’ve thought it would be a disadvantage to have such a large animal with you but that wasn’t the case. Your snake was big enough to crush a fully grown adult which was helpful if an enemy was overpowering you.

When they first saw your python they thought it was very beautiful.Ghost secretly wanted to hold it when he saw how it wrapped loosely around your neck.You gave them all a chance to pet it and they learned that despite your snakes size it was very friendly.It gave Soaps face a few kisses and even wrapped around Gaz.Ghost just stood there watching them interact with the snake

"Damn this dude is heavy."Gaz wheezed as you took your snake back.You looked over at Ghost who was staring intently at your snake so you brought it up to him and asked.

"You wanna hold em?"Ghost looked at you then back at the snake who was staring into his soul.He nodded as M/n stood closer to him,allowing the snake to slither around the tall mans shoulders.Ghost eyes visibly softened as the snake pressed its nose against his mask before licking it.

"I guess he likes you ey L.T?”Soap asked as Ghost murmured a yes.

"Listen he may be friendly now but the bastard has bit me on occasion.Hell the bastard bit my inner thigh cause I wasn't paying him no mind."You explained which made them blush.The thought of you having marks on your thighs,hell Even anywhere brought some dirty thoughts to their heads.

“Ya think we could see em some time?”Soap asked suggestively as you laughed in response.

“Maybe another time,plus it’s A LOT of scars that I have.”You explained as they hummed in response.

“I gotta go feed this fellow before he decides to have a human snack,I’ll see y’all later.”You waved them off while taking your snake with you.Now there is only one thing that is left for you to know.

Sooner or later that snake won’t be the only thing leaving marks

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A3 part 1

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 1: new haven, new me

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

"Who...who are you?" the woman asked into the darkness, voice quivering as if she were cold. I encircled her, my sharp claws tapping the stone pavement and tail dragging behind. I was distorting the noises to make it seem like I was everywhere.

"I go by many names," I said sweetly, "Python. Snake Demon. Dragon Demon. All which fit me perfectly." I let the shadows melt away from me, revealing my Demon form to the scared Human.

I wore my usual outside attire: dark grey dress pants, black and silver clasp belt, black turtle neck, and a dark maroon blazer. It was topped off with the necklace of Alastor's crest. It became the crest of the Hazbin Haven guard command.

"What do you want?" she half demanded. Her face was coated in cuts and bruises and her leg was bent at an awkward angle from attempting to jump roofs.

I knelt down, my face inches from hers, and placed a daring claw under her chin. "Where is Blackwater's factory?"

Her scared demeanor faded, replaced by a look of anger and determination. "You'll need to kill me, then. Blackwater's legacy will live on in all of us."

"What a shame," I said as I stood back up, "I was gracing you with the opportunity to live. No matter, I'll take your soul and examine your memories." I gripped her soul half a second after she yelled. Her cries were no longer heard in the physical world, reaching my ears and mine only. The other souls I was holding onto were frantic for a new soul's energy. She could see their pitch black, wide, screaming faces.

Then I let go. Her soul fell back into her body and she stared up at the night sky, face as pale as a ghost. Her chest heaved with each breath while her hands gripped at the stone to ground herself.

"Last opportunity," I said, standing above her with my hands in my pants pockets. "Where is the factory?"

"I don't know." Her voice shook. "I'm not...I'm not allowed...to know."

"Then who does?"

"The trucks. They drop it off."

"When is the next shipment coming?" I then asked.

"Next month."

"Who's in charge now?"

"I don't know." I grabbed her soul and she freaked. "It is! It is! Since Blackwater died everything is need-to-know!"

I was silent. I continued to stare into her wide eyes, waiting. Leaving someone in silence usually elicited them to talk more. 

"I get the shipments and I'm just told to sell them. I swear!" She was telling the truth and my disappointment was overwhelming. I swallowed despite the tightness in my throat. I turned the emotion into anger as I leaned over.

"Tell me something useful if you wish to keep your soul in your body." I stared down, eyes brightening and teeth glinting in fake light. Her eyes widened in response.

"I-I-I don't know. I uh...there's...um..." I gave her a few minutes to think. The fear was clouding her judgement and ability to think so I let her ease up just enough to think. "Shipments don't all arrive at the same time to every location. There's probably some shipments still on their way."

"Where are the other sellers?"

She bit her lip. "I also don't know that, either."

I let out an annoyed sigh and straightened up. I knew who I needed to talk with but I hated interacting with him.

I looked down at the women shaking on the cold ground. She had given me the most she could provide. It didn't seem right to take her soul, but now she was a liability.

I stepped over so my feet were on either side and bent at the hip so I was close to her face. "This conversation didn't happen. If someone even suspects me I will return to harvest your soul. Slowly."

Mouth agape and shivering, she nodded. Alcine covered my whole body and I faded into the dark alley, hiding away in the forest on the outskirts of the busy town. Once I manifested, I teleported back home.

I took the long way around the house to give myself time to shed this version of me. I shrugged my shoulders and shook my arms and tail as if ridding the personality from my very body. I stepped up on the new porch, eyes glancing at the almost finished portion in front of the living room window, and quietly entered the house.

Reagan had made them all dinner and likely left something for me in the fridge. Not feeling very hungry, I used my magic to keep my steps quiet as I went to my room. I changed out of the dark clothes and put on shin-length loose pants and a white short sleeve. I stretched out my sense to see if any of them were still awake. Fortunately, they were not.

I climbed into bed and pulled the heavy covers up to my chin. I kept my dreams away as I slipped into sleep.

The following morning, I was woken to the sound of Nym and Thatcher yelling at each other. Reagan and Lucas must have had an early morning because it was Husker's voice I heard trying to scold them for being loud.

I dressed in my usual 'home' attire, which were simple black dress pants and a light colored top. Today was a thin sweater since we were nearing my favorite season: Fall

My claws tapped on the wood as I walked down the staircase. The rambunctious pair were arguing over the family wristlet. Each member of this family wore a leather wristlet or bracelet that had our crest: a combination of Alastor's crest and my own (the symbol left in the ground when I teleport). Reagan wore a bracelet like I did but the younger pair wanted leather wristlets like Husker. They looked up to the furry uncle. Sometimes too much if someone asked me.

The siblings were sitting at the kitchen counter with Husker on the other side, claws digging into the surface with frustration. Breakfast lay untouched in front of them.

Nym had really short, hazel brown hair and a few freckels on her nose. Her brother, Thatcher, had even shorter hair, typical of boys his age, but his face was coated in the same freckles. His face was usually set in a glare from dealing with his sister while Nym had a wide grin.

"They're the exact same," Husker growled, snatching both items away, mixing them behind his back, then tossing them back into the angry little hands.

"Mine's smaller!" Nym slammed her hands on the counter, half standing on her chair, "he's got buffy wrists."

"Hah! You admit I'm stronger than you!" Thatcher sneered in her face. She shoved his face away, nearly causing him to fall back off his chair.

"Big wrists don't mean you're stronger. Just a bunch of fat."

"Be nice," I spoke softly as I stepped into the kitchen. They went very quiet and settled into their seats.

"I just want my band," Nym looked pointedly to Thatcher.

"And you should have it. However," I took both wristlets from them and held them up to my eye level, "since we cannot decipher the difference, whichever I give will be yours and you need to do something to it that distinguishes it from the other. Understood?"

The two of them nodded silently. It had taken the first full year of parenting them to understand they listened best when spoken to like an adult. Sometimes I could get away with a more adolescent sentence if I put in a few elegant, advanced words for them.

I covered the bracelets in shadows and fizzled them into each of their palms. Nym immediately began to burn her initials into the leather as carefully as she could. The two of them were Slight Humans with a gift of Fire. Their magic was one of the reasons they had been given to me.

"Good morning," Husker sighed, pouring alcohol into his cup.

"Guess you didn't sleep well." We touched foreheads in our usual greeting before I made a plate for myself. Every other day he would come up to eat breakfast with us. It was the only time we had to spend with each other.

"Angel had a bad nightmare last night," was all he gave me.

Nym and Thatcher rattled off about school yesterday since I was gone for the evening. I pretended to listen but my mind was somewhere else. My peripherals could see the calendar hanging off the cabinet behind them. A weight settled in my chest.

Husker was the one to notice the time. He had to be on guard duty and the littles had to be at school. I ushered the two of them out, gently attempting to step on the back of their feet to elicit laughter and urgency. They ran out the door and practically flew down the short hill. I watched them enter the haven and follow the street to the schoolhouse.

"You should come to the dance tomorrow evening," Husker said as he closed the door behind him. Once a month, Charlie hosted a formal dance for the town. It helped people meet each other and gave us a nice event to attend. The first half was for the adults before the later hours were given to the teenagers and their crazy music.

"I don't think so," I said, "I'm hunting for Blackwater still."

"It could do you some good to let loose and dance. I know you love it."

"I do but..." I looked down at my back foot claws. "I still have to do my ritual too."

"It's been seven years now. Maybe you don't need to anymore."

"It's past seven years," I glanced sideways at him, "almost eight by tomorrow. I should be doing my ritual now more than ever."

"You really don't think he's coming back?" Husker asked gently. He had been incredibly understanding and empathetic towards my situation. He was still under Alastor's service and was never treated nearly as kindly as me, but he still offered comfort for my bruised heart.

"You said last time was seven years. It's almost eight. He may not return for another sixty years for all I know. Demons live for centuries."

"I still think you should dance to at least one song. Either before or after your ritual. Think about it." He placed a kind hand on my shoulder before flapping off the porch. I stared after him, watching his figure shrink into a black dot in the sky. I reached inside the front door and opened the drawer of the small decoration table. I withdrew my phone and sent a text message to Vox asking to meet with him.

I sat on the porch chair and closed my eyes. I reached out with my magic and felt the haven. I had read all of Alastor's books in the library and his office since the time of his disappearance. From my readings and sessions with Lucifer, my magic had grown in ways I couldn't imagine.

The souls danced around each other or cluttered together in homes, stores, schoolrooms, and more. I could sense a couple fishermen heading out to sea for the day. The children burned the brightest and a several people found their soulmate here, the thread connecting the pair clearly visible to my eyes. Althea was the only other person in the haven that could see soulmate connections.

My thread came only a few inches off my chest before it faded into nothing.

I stayed in this limbo. I wasn't truly present in my body but not entirely gone into the magic field. It was a comfortable place, a quiet place, that I could lose myself for hours in. There were few things that gave me rest and this was one of them.

The sun had reached its highest point when I finally withdrew back to my physical body. I opened my eyes and saw movement in the corner of my vision. I turned to see Alastor standing with his cane in hand and the other arm tucked neatly behind his back. It wasn't actually him, though. The hurt came back as hard as it had when he first disappeared. 

I drew a deep breath in and let it out, annoyed at how shaky it was when I did. I stood from the porch chair and walked up--walked through--him to the unfinished part of the porch. His figure fizzled into nothing, leaving me feeling cold and alone. I picked up a floorboard and started nailing it into place. 

I had gotten three floorboards down before the tears made it impossible to see the nails. I dropped the hammer and sat back on my heels, shoulders haunched and claws puncturing the new wood. I peeled one off and covered my wet face as I attempted to get control over my erratic breathing.

Where are you?

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

Author's Note:

Act Three babyyyyyy

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

Taglist:

@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine @thesimpybitch @papas-ghoulette

[noisyquokka]

By A Thread...

PAIRING - Chan x GN!Reader

SYNOPSIS - When life leaves you hanging off the end of your rope, fighting on your own is a struggle. You thank the universe for giving you that one person who can always make those struggles a little more bearable.

WORDCOUNT - 3.5k

WARNINGS - TRIGGER WARNING *** Talks/thoughts of suicide, description of panic attacks, anxiety, reader's mental health has tanked (Please don't read if you aren't comfortable with these)*** angst, comfort, emotional support, childhood friends || Please let me know if I missed anything!

A/N - I started this writing piece to help me get through a really tough mental health episode. While I didn't finish it during that time, something brought me back to it recently and it's a bittersweet feeling to have completed it. After thinking about things for a bit, I've decided that I'd post this for anyone else who may be going through those difficult thoughts, or who has in the past. Chan's Room has always been a safe space for me, and I know a lot of us resonate with that.

Knowing this is a heavy fic, I feel it appropriate to leave a link to suicide hotlines. This site has international hotlines for those of you outside of the U.S. as well as other useful info. I know this planet is a questionable place to be existing on at the moment, but the human experience isn't complete without some struggles. We can all get through it, whatever it is we're struggling with. I'm proud of you! 💛

You shut the door to the apartment, slugging your shoes off at the entrance. The stresses of the day weigh heavily on your shoulders, tense and aching as you trudge through the hallway toward your bedroom.

"You're home early." Chan's bubbly voice resonates through the apartment; a welcoming sound. If you would've acknowledged it, that is. Brown eyes shift from the blue-light of the laptop at the lack of a response, catching the ghost of your body whiz through the kitchen from his spot on the sofa. Your footfalls reverberate against the floorboards. It was the door slamming shut, rattling the walls, the electrifying static that had purged into the space. That's when Chan knew that something wasn't right.

You sag against the woodgrain of the door, wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt of self-consoling as you slowly slide floorward on shaky legs. Breaths come in shallow puffs of air, your lungs constricting like a mouse in the death grip of a python. Everything that had happened today had finally tripped the tidal wave of negative thoughts you had been pushing down for... God knows how long now. You can't remember. All you know is you want it to end before these thoughts drag you too deep into the rabbit hole to where you can't crawl back out on your own.

Trembling fingers wipe the tears from your cheeks, although it seems futile when fresh ones retrace their tracks down your skin. You focus in on your breathing with a shaky breath and furrowed brows. A deep breath in. Hold.

5...4...3...2...1...

A deep breath out.

A soft rapping on the door startles you, shoulders jerking violently. You know who it is before he even speaks your name, voice muffled beyond the barrier of the door, soft and laced with concern.

"Hey, you alright?"

The crease between your brows deepen as your ears pop, drums a void of rumbles and vibrations as if someone stuffed them full of cotton. Teary, bloodshot eyes tilt toward the ceiling.

"Yeah," You wince at the warble in your voice, clearing your throat before trying again. "Yeah! I'm fine, Chan." When no response comes from beyond the door, you know. You know that he knows you are far from fine.

Chan's shadow crawls up the hallway of the shared apartment as he shoulders his weight against the doorframe to your room. He could count the amount of times you two have found yourselves in this very predicament on his fingers three times over. Most nights he'd ask if he could come in and you would both talk about what was bothering you.

Tonight wasn't most nights, though.

Chan shifts himself so his back is against the doorframe, sliding down the woodgrain until he's settled on the wood floor, legs crossed beneath him. He bites the flesh of his cheek at the sound of your sniffles, his heart aching in his chest.

"You wanna talk?" He asks, and you feel your composure cracking at his tone. So courteous and careful, like always. You nod your head, tongue darting out to lick chapped lips and salty tears.

"Sure."

"Alright, let's see..." Chan trails off, taking a deep breath as he racks his brain for a topic. Something to take your mind off your troubles. His lips twitch into a ghost of a smile as he turns his head toward the door. "What's your favourite flower?"

"What?" You scoff, wiping the tears from your cheeks. He begins to repeat himself, and you cut him off.

"You already know the answer to that, Chan."

"Sunflowers." He says, resting an elbow against one knee. "We were what... nine and twelve when you became obsessed with them because Ms. Keller had planted some in her yard down the street." 

Chan's smiling. You can hear it in his voice. 

"When your dad bought some sunflower seeds from the store, you stole some from the bag and I helped you dig a hole in the backyard so you could plant them. You watered them for months until the weather got too cold. They never grew because they were roasted sunflower seeds." He's rattling on as if he's experiencing the memory all over again behind those brown eyes of his.

Your laugh is broken and groggy - a candle's light in the dark, casting away shadows that had built up in the corners of the apartment - but it's the reason that Chan's heart skips when it flows beneath the door.

"Oh my god, I forgot about that," You reply, sniffling behind long sleeves. "I thought if my parents found out we planted them that they'd be mad."

The image of you and Chan sneaking around the yard in search of a shovel and a watering can is a core memory, the spring sunshine kissing your skin. The smell of freshly turned dirt and a handful of salty sunflower seeds is as vivid in your mind as the man beyond the door.

"But the next spring, Ms. Keller came over and helped us plant some sunflowers in your yard because your dad seen us trying to plant his roasted seeds in the far corner of the garden."

You chuckle as Chan recalls the memory, eyes downcast to the floor. Everything was so carefree and enjoyable as a kid, and now it feels like work to find just a fraction of enjoyment in your life. Too much anxiety over whether or not you're on the right path, nevermind worrying that you're going about living life the wrong way. As if there's some manual to go by. Your chest tightens and you hold your breath, wet lashes fluttering.

Everything is quiet for a moment, save for the wall clock ticking softly.

"I understand why you always loved them." Chan says, and for a moment it sounds like words he didn't mean to verbalize. You know him better than that. "They're so vibrant and full of life - just like you."

You swallow down the ball of nerves, but that does nothing to quell your active tear ducts. Chan tilts his head toward the door at the sounds of your untamed whimpers, brows furrowing.

"Can I come in?" His voice is sheer lace, delicate as he reaches out to you. And you are well beyond your breaking point, rubbing at your wet, matted lashes. He listens carefully for the sounds of shuffling beyond the door, or even your verbal consent.

The lock on the door lets off a subtle click as you wrap shaky fingers around the knob and twist. He's off the floor before you can swing the door open, meeting your gaze with ember eyes that shine like the hearth of a home.

There you are.

The one constant in Chan's life since the first grade. You, standing in front of him in your crumbling state, trying desperately to hold yourself together like a tattered flag in a storm; a whole piece of fabric battered and torn by gale force winds, frayed edges violently tearing away until single threads are all that's left.

And there he is. Your life raft saving you from drowning in the choppy waters of your mind. Chan stands with open arms, awaiting the inevitable weight of your head against his chest. Your skeleton rattles against wound muscle and vermilion-coated veins when you take a step forward. As the weight of your world comes crashing down upon his shoulder, he holds you with the utmost care, strong arms encircling you as if afraid that you would break under the pressure. The warmth of his body only eggs on the tears, breaking your composure further as you collapse into him. Sobs wrack your body, muffled in his shoulder. Shaky fingers grasp for something to hold onto.

"It's alright," Chan murmurs, digging his nose into your scalp. You feel him press kisses into your scalp, breathing you in as your tears seep into the fabric of his shirt. Fingers splay against your back, soothing shapes and gentle motions running the expanse of your spine, rocking the two of you back and forth. His warmth cradles you, soothes your pain. You never feel shame in these arms. Only the strongest, surest form of love and support that you could ever find in someone. Chan's heart drums against his chest. "You can let it out, it's just me."

You don't know what Gods had decided that you were worthy of such a soul, but right now the only way you think you can thank them is through your violent sobs. Grief and gratitude blend together. You needed this comfort desperately, and it shows in your inconsolable tears. In how quiet you are, unable to verbalize much of your inner monologue when it's thrashing around the confines of your psyche like a hurricane. If a Category five was the worst, you were sitting at a nonexistent Category seven. Chan's words echo in your mind.

"They're so vibrant and full of life - just like you."

There's no point in trying to compose yourself. The floodgates have opened. You feel yourself overheating and yet you crave the comfort that Chan is offering, whispering words of encouragement as you press your face into his shoulder. Soothing each scar that litters the muscle in your chest that beats like hummingbird wings.

"Am I a bad person for wanting to die?"

Your brain is so overwhelmed that your mouth opens without a second thought. You hope your words fall on deaf ears, what with how most of them were interrupted by broken hiccups and a pounding head. But when Chan's body goes rigid under your touch, you know he's heard you. His grip tightens, your name whispered against your hair as his voice catches in his throat. If he felt something was off when you walked in the door earlier, it was painfully obvious now. You were lost. Utterly lost and alone, sending out an S.O.S in the labyrinth of your miserable mind. He's talked you down from the brink of destruction many times through the years. To say he was heaven-sent would be a severe understatement. But this was different to the others. Hearing those words come from anyone was enough to bowl him over. Hearing them come from your mouth, though? He's never heard you speak this way in all his years of knowing you. He wanted to know what had been the origin of your tears, but this was not where he expected the conversation to go.

Your breath catches as you sense how much your words affected him. Chan's silence weighed heavily in the air, your words sinking into the hard wood floors until they were weighted with lead. You pull away from him, gaze downcast as you wipe away the tears on your face. A flood of guilt crashes over you, throat constricting like a zip tie closing around your esophagus.

Put the mask back on. Rebuild your walls. You've fucked up now.

"I-I'm fine. I didn't mean to- I'm sorry." You turn your head, unable to bring yourself to look at your best friend since childhood as more tears fall from doused lashes. Your chest tremors for putting that burden on him, something you hadn't meant to say in the first place. You've never said those words out loud before. You never wanted people to worry. Never wanted to be a problem for them. But here you stand, bearing intrusive thoughts to your best friend. It was like throwing a pile of bricks at him and expecting him to bear all that weight with no trouble.

"You're not. Look at me, listen to me." He says, taking your shaking shoulders with a gentle yet firm grip to turn you towards him again. Calloused fingers brush against your jaw, tipping your chin up to meet your glassy eyes. Brown optics flicker across your face, moving from feature to feature with the deepest concern. There's an emptiness in your eyes that twists Chan's heart, the ache so miserable that tearing the muscle from behind the wall of marrow would be more bearable than leaving it be. Chan's tone is adamant, steady despite the weight of the words you've just entrusted to him. "No, you're not."

New tears retrace the old tracks down exhausted epidermis, eyebrows sliding in as you feel Chan press another kiss to your scalp, lingering a moment longer than before. Chan's response only causes you more anxiety, unsure what exactly he's referring to. Not fine or not a bad person for having such heavy thoughts? He must pick up on it, quick to speak up again.

"You're not a bad person at all, and I think you know that. You're just struggling right now, and that's okay."

You sniffle and shake your head, fighting against a tidal wave of hysterics.

"But, what if I..." You swallow, your mind so jumbled you're unable to spit out the words in their original form. "What if I can't get through this?"

"Oh, love..." Chan murmurs, his voice tremulous. It takes everything in him to reign in his own tears. The very thought of you giving in to those intrusive thoughts is like driving a dagger through his heart. His hands leave your face and wrap around you again, his strong hold tightening until you're lifted off the ground, cradled in his arms as he walks toward your bed. You are so tired, physically and mentally overwhelmed by his compassion and the gentle way in which he carries you. You fold into him like a tired newborn. Being tucked into secure arms as he lays you in bed feels like something more intimate than anything you've ever known. Chan is quick and careful when he settles in beside you.

"You don't need to say a word," He whispers, brushing stray hairs from your face and wiping your tears. "just listen to me."

You nod, a broken whimper escaping your throat as he pulls you into his arms. Chan rubs your back soothingly, letting you cry like a child, and he holds you like letting you go would be a criminal offense.

"You don't have to tell me what brought you to this point, I don't need to know if you don't want me to." He starts, his voice rumbling through his chest as he speaks. It offers you some modicum of comfort as you rest one of your arms over his torso. He lets out a heavy breath, eyes cast to the ceiling. "You aren't a bad person for having those thoughts. They don't define who you are, or where you're going. The fact that you're telling me this says a lot, that you've been holding this in for God knows how long."

"I'm just- it's so exhausting to keep living." You mumble, wiping at your runny nose. You press yourself further into Chan's side, feeling his arms tighten around you with every shift you make. His gaze falls to you when you speak, taking in every word with sharp ears. "I've had those thoughts, myself, y'know." His voice is thick with unspoken secrets, a heavy breath hitting the crown of your head - shallow and sharp. You lay with your head against his chest, silent as he confesses to his own feelings of hopelessness.

You've never seen Chan lose the façade of the stable best friend. Even through the stresses of high school, he was the rock, a bastion of strength and resilience. But Chan knows. He knows what those thoughts are like, the struggle of falling asleep while trying to fend off cackling demons from the foot of the bed. The pain of trying so hard to fit the mold that society has crafted, that every single individual is expected to fit to a T.

Perhaps that's why he knows how to soothe you, how to take care of you and hold back his own tears. Even if he doesn't know how frayed and weathered your thread on this life is.

"I never told you about them. Never told anyone, really. I put all my feelings into songwriting, even if I never released half of them." Chan's body relaxes beneath you as the weight of his secrets leaves him. A half-hearted sigh. A lazy hand traces the curve of your back in a calming gesture, the rhythm of his fingers almost hypnotizing.

"You always believed in my impossible dreams... encouraged me to pursue them like it was your calling in life. You made me happy through all of my downfalls." You pick your head up at his words, resting your chin against his breast. Two pairs of eyes lock on one another. There's a ghost of a smile quirking Chan's lips after a moment, brown eyes glowing like the embers of a fire.

"You're one of the good ones." He pauses, bringing a hand up to swipe at the stray hairs in your face, running his fingers through the locks like he always does. "You're so much that this world doesn't deserve, but everything that is needed. Just like those sunflowers that summer. Little seeds that were waiting for their chance to shine, and you lit them up like little beacons of hope."

Even though fresh tears are streaming down your face, Chan beams at the soft laugh that you release. It's genuine this time, unbroken and featherlight. Childlike. These tears aren't ones of hopelessness and sleepless nights, but of gratitude and love for the person embracing you. The way Chan speaks to you, the way he's willing to offer up his strength and his heart without expecting anything of you in return is exactly what you need. In a world filled with harsh realities and high expectations and constant beat downs, he is the personification of empathy. His voice calms your anxious mind, even if his words don't completely wipe out the heavy storm. He tames it, eases the hurricane force winds and manifests a steady rain that could lull you to sleep.

"I'm not going to let you drown, alright. I know things seem rough right now, but you've accomplished so much and you're gonna do so much more." Chan's eyes burn into yours, unwavering in his conviction. You feel the pad of his thumb against your cheek as he wipes more tears away, the heat and passion in his expression shifting to tenderness as he speaks. "As long as I'm here, you'll never be alone in this."

His words are the affirmations you've told yourself for months, fighting your negative thoughts with positivity that only worked for so long. But the words held an air of certainty coming from Chan. There's value in them. It's the first time in a long time that hearing someone - even yourself - telling you that it's going to be okay brings you some semblance of peace, of safety. Knowing that things can get better given a little time. Sunflowers only bloom after some tender loving care; you learned that back when you were kids. 

God damn, were you determined back then...

Every fiber of Chan's body exudes safety as he run his hands through your hair, your tears faltering with every delicate touch as you shed the weight of inner phantoms that you've repressed for forever. Your eyes close at the gesture, feeling his heartbeat thunder beneath your palm.

"You take care of me, I take care of you. Like it's always been."

You pick up on the strain in his tone, eyes wide when you open them again. Tears threaten to spill over Chan's lower lashes, unable to hold back those emotions any longer. Your fingers are still trembling lightly when you reach up and wipe them away, mirroring the actions he's been calming you with all night. You feel the arm around your torso squeeze you once, almost a silent thank you for that comfort, even in the state you're currently in.

"You ok?" He asks.

"Not quite," You mutter, sniffling as you keep your eyes on him. "but I'm better than I was an hour ago. All thanks to you."

Chan smiles; one of those smiles that isn't much, but somehow it still reaches his eyes.

"Good, that's good." He pulls you further up, pressing his fingers into your spine. "Now how about I order us some take out and you and I sit and watch a movie? Maybe that new one that you said looks laughably terrible? Or a comfort movie? Your choice."

"Can we lay here for ten more minutes?" You ask. You've already dropped your head against his chest, eyes closed as you listen to his heart thump against sturdy muscle.

"Ten more minutes. Twenty, if you need. I'm not going anywhere." Chan's reply is soft and slow as he continues to hold you close, your tears drying as seconds turn to minutes. You melt into his warmth, pressing further against his neck. Chan mirrors you, a silent reassurance that he's here; now and always.

In Chan's arms you're both so small, so powerless as you confront the demons that have long haunted you. There's no rushing here. Healing isn't a process that can be rushed. He doesn't need you to say a word or do anything. There's nothing more to say, no. He'll just hold you with everything he has. You relax against him, breaths evening out as you feel exhaustion take over.

As your eyes close, you feel the past few months recede.

The future seems less daunting. Just as the pieces shatter, you are finally ready to begin picking them up and piece them back together. It'll get ugly; viscous and foreboding. But Chan is willing to help you with such a demanding process.

That's everything that keeps you going.

It's what keeps you alive.

If you made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read my work 💕 I appreciate you!

[the-whispers-of-death]

New Guy

A/N: Python's introduction to Ghost!! Note that this OC will eventually be with Ghost.

*****************************************************************

Ghost finished up his workout in the base gym, grabbing a towel and wiping off the sweat on his neck. He waved goodbye to the few soldiers he knew, heading out of the base gym and towards the barracks.

As he walked, he heard whispers of an American joining one of the task forces as their medic. Supposedly it was because the task force needed a medic and there weren't any SAS medics who could be spared.

He huffed at the thought, wishing a silent good luck to the task force that was unlucky enough to have an American medic.

Ghost opened the door to the barracks which were assigned to everyone in the 141. As he entered the barracks, he expected it to be empty since he knew the rest of the 141 were away training or doing paperwork. However, as he stepped inside, it wasn't empty.

There stood a tall, shirtless man who had to be no taller than six-foot-six and had light brown skin that seemed to be covered in tattoos. With his back towards Ghost, he was the process of putting on a shirt, his head covered by a black balaclava, and Ghost could see the full sleeve tattoos of snakes and a large tattoo of a snake spiraling up the man's back. The man was burly, muscular with a thick layer of fat on top of the muscles.

Ghost snapped out of his stupor, remembering who he was and clearing his throat. "You're in the wrong barracks, mate," he said, annoyance lacing his voice as he stared at the irritatingly mouth-watering man. "These barracks are for the Task Force 141."

The man finished putting on his shirt, somehow managing to do so without disturbing his balaclava and mask, before he turned to face Ghost. He had on a black hard-plated mask which had gold etchings of a snake coiling all around the mask.

"No, I'm in the right barracks," the man said, Ghost noting the American accent and the way the man's voice was deep but harsh. "Captain Price showed me where to go."

At that words, it clicked in Ghost's head that this was the American medic he had heard about on his way to the barracks. The task force that got said medic was the 141. Great.

"So you're the medic that has the whole base alight with gossip," Ghost grumbled, stepping closer and eyeing the man. His eyes settled on the man's mask and it ticked him off how much they looked similar. "Why do you wear a mask?"

The man seemed unperturbed by the way Ghost was eyeing him warily, as if he was bored. "For the same reason you probably wears yours. For anonymity," he replied. "Call me Python."

Ghost raised his eyebrow underneath his mask, not that Python could see it. "Python?" He tested the callsign on his tongue before huffing in annoyance. "That's a mouthful."

"Yes, but it's not like I chose the callsign myself." Python lifted up his duffel bag with ease and set it down on the bunk that wasn't being used. He definitely sounded bored. "Any other burning questions?"

"Why do they call you "Python"?" Ghost asked, ignoring how rude Python was being. It wasn't like Ghost was being nice either.

"You going to tell me why they call you "Ghost"?" Python shot back, turning back around to face Ghost and crossing his arms.

Ghost scowled beneath his mask, crossing his arms as well. "Don't do that, don't be cagey with me." His irritation was rising steadily. "I'm the mysterious one in this task force."

Python surprisingly laughed, his laughter deep and lacking any actual amusement. He stepped closer, making Ghost step back instinctively. "I guess you're not the only mysterious one here anymore, Ghost." He sucked his teeth. "Deal with it."

Python then turned away from Ghost again, the sharp change of movement making his medical bag clack against his uniform, drawing Ghost's attention to it.

"You have a shitty attitude for a medic," Ghost muttered underneath his breath, glowering at the man in front of him now.

"I didn't think the great and all-powerful Ghost would cower at a little bit of attitude thrown his way." Python taunted, glancing back at Ghost before unzipping his duffel bag to take out something. He then took a big sniff of the air before making a sound of disgust. "You should shower, you stink."

He zipped up the duffel bag again and then moved past Ghost, leaving the barracks to go God knows where. One minute he was there and the next, Ghost was alone, staring at where Python had been.

Ghost blinked once and then twice, his eyebrows furrowing. "I'm going to have Price transfer him," he grumbled to himself before making his way to the communal bathroom.

*****************************************************************

A/N: I didn't know this OC x Canon relationship would be rivals to lovers (I don't think we can classify them as enemies, not even sure if we could classify them as rivals really), but as Python likes to chant in my head, "Stone might be a bigger bitch, but I'm still a bitch!" (I don't know why he likes to chant that in my head.) So um, this is just how Python is, I guess.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and request something! (Check the rules in "Rules for Requesting NSFW" before requesting.)

[fetchmearum420]

Hi guys.

Incase you haven’t heard, Michael Palin and Terry Gilliam are trying to raise money for a Terry Jones statue in his home town of Colwyn Bay Wales.

I’m a little angry it took so long, but better late then never am I right?

I just know that Jonesy would be so proud and honored. I really hope enough money is raised for this to happen.

Eric is also involved, and of course Cleese isn’t because he’s a cu*t, but that’s beside the point.

I got a bit of a shock when I saw that Terry Jones’s X account posted something. I’m like “did the ghost of Jonesy do this or something?” Lmao I was so perplexed. But then I read into it and I realized what was happening and I got very emotional and very excited.

If you don’t know, Jonesy is my favorite python and when he passed away almost 5 years ago, I was utterly devastated and depressed. I still miss him very much.

I have a feeling enough money will be raised. I hope the statue is the older version of him. It just kinda makes more sense.

[yonderghostshistories]

*The Button House Gang (minus Fanny and Mary as they're not watching the show due to what the programme's about), with Alison and Mike present of course, are currently watching Monty Python's Flying Circus together.*

Captain: Honestly, Patrick, I really don't get the appeal of this "Montgomery Python". Honestly, it's clearly too crude for my tast-

*sees Graham Chapman being casually dashing*

Captain: *starts internally drooling and has lovesick puppy eyes starting to enlarge on his face due to the shear BEAUTY of the man that is Graham Chapman*

uhhh...oh my....uhhhhhhhhhh.......

Pat:

*still with his eyes fixed on the programme and chuckling at the jokes, as he passively asks the Captain about his question*

Hohohohehe...yeah, now THAT'S a classic! Anyway, uh-what were you gonna say, Cap?

Captain: oh..um, nothing, nothing! Just err-i -um-i-iii-i- I think I'll continue watching "Montgomery Python's Flying...Circus"!

*Cap says quietly under his breath but drools off as he's still fixed on the handsome Graham Chapman on the TV screen*

.....even if...it's..too...crude and..silly..for me...

[guardkeywolf]

I needs some Russian male reader that owns a ranch and da cod boys (and konig and that Spanish dude forgot his name because of how long his name is 👁👄👁) that came to visit since soap praticly begged male reader to visit his ranch along with the boys and male reader agrees and just fanning over the fact of how big and the ranch is and how many animals he has and that fact he makes Russian food and have allot of dogs, cats, snakes, and other pets that you can think of and is able to ride a horse and has a Buffalo

Like I can't find any Russian male reader on any platform i have 💀💀🥲🥲

Russian Male Reader X 141! Boys + Alejandro and König

Stella (Ball Python)

Vera (Stallion)

Alek (Mustang)

Hello @gamersansblog !!!

I was pretty shocked when I got this request to write a Russian Male Reader (considering I'm American lol) and especially about a ranch!

But I really did enjoy this one a lot so I hope you enjoy it as well!

And some slight Soap X Male Reader at the end too...

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When Soap, had asked Y/n to come down to the base for the tenth time, the man couldn't help but sigh and smile as he made his way down to the base.

As a retired soldier, the 141 didn't mind letting the Russian come down and enter their base, seeing him as another friend.

During the 141's lunch break, they were all making small talk with each other about some random topics Y/n didn't particularly pick up on and instead scrolled through his phone. While conversating, Y/n could help but perk up at the word "ranch" leaving someone's lips before responding himself.

"What about a ranch?" He asked looking up from his phone with a curious look in his eye.

Soap looked up towards him with soft eyes.

"Oh nothing in particular, just saw some horses recently on my way here. Couldn't help but wonder what it be like to ride them," his eyes glowing at the thought as he smiled.

"We bet it 'ould buck him off in 3 seconds," Ghost said from behind him, others chuckling as well.

"Oh 'ush! I bet cha' 'ouldn't last any longer than me!" Soap cried making the other laugh more.

"I don't know, Soap, I think Ghost would at least manage to hang on longer. You'd get throw off instantly," Gaz spoke from the other side of the table while sitting next to Price.

"I don't know Hermano... You just might get bucked off," the Colonel voiced while trying to hold in a laugh that he failed at immensely.

"Come on...don't you believe in me König?" The Scottish man turned to the Austrian with glossy eyes nearly shedding a tear.

"I'm sure you zan do zit," König responded softly.

"See! König thinks I can do it!" The Scottish man cheered as smirked at the others.

"Alright then... if you can do it, where are to gonna test it, Sergeant?" Price spoke.

"Ah...well..." he scratched the back of his head.

"I have a ranch... and last time I checked, you've been begging me to go there," Y/n said.

They all turned to him instantly, eyes wide as if he grew a second head. Soap jumped on him immediately with a small grin painting his lips.

"You own a ranch?!" Gaz yelled in surprise.

"Da, I got cow, dog, cat, and horse too Soap," Y/n reassured him as he watched the grown man bounce in his toes in excitement.

"Y/N YOU GOTTA TAKE ME PLEASE!" The Scottish man said, back to being giddy. The man was on his knees as begged the Russian.

"Now hold on, Y/n just said he owned a ranch, Soap, didn't say you could use it," Price intervened.

"It fine, Kapitan, plus it not too far from base. If you'd like to come, feel free," Y/n said, shrugging in the process.

"REALLY?!" Soap squealed.

"да!" ("Yes!") Y/n replied. "Are you all free tomorrow?"

"Last time I check, ye'" Price responded.

"Good, I will meet with you tomorrow, then we can go to ranch," Y/n grinned.

The next day, the 141 waited at the front of their base for Y/n to arrive. When they caught sight of the Russian's truck, Y/n drove over near them and rolled down his window.

"Follow me, comrades," he replied as he watched the others nod and walk to their cars. Meanwhile, Soap and Ghost rode with him. Gaz and König with Price and Alejandro.

They followed him outside the town, a vast array of green plains taking over the landscape. As if time passed instantly, Y/n would end up turning into his ranch.

It was beautiful honest. They were met with the sight of horses, cows, chickens, sheep, some lambs, and even some dogs and cats wandering around. Hell, even a Buffalo too.

The men stared in awe at the mere beauty of the scene. As Y/n turned to park he got out with Soap and Ghost following in tow before waiting for the others to park. When they got out, they couldn't help but stare.

"Ahem," Y/n coughed, "You like, yes?"

Soap was the first to respond.

"Are ya kidding?! It's amazing here, Y/n," the man exclaimed as his eyes sparkled at the sight.

Y/n let a laugh escape him as he motioned for the others to follow him inside to his home.

There, they saw the kitchen but also other foods stored around the house, each labeled for each product with specific animal feed.

Y/n walked them over to his exhibit that house a very, very, long white snake.

"Comrades, met Stella," he waved a hand to the female ball python before opening the top of the enclosure.

Price and Alejandro stepped back instantly as Y/n took out the 10 foot ball python.

Y/n laughed at their reactions.

"Don't worry, she don't bite. She likes meeting people," Y/n reassured them quickly.

"If you'd like to touch her, stroke her scales slowly please," Y/n advised watching the ball python himself as well.

Soap, Ghost, König and Gaz all moved to touch the snake, running their fingers around the smooth scales softly.

"She's beautiful Y/n," Ghost commented.

"Thank you, Ghost. I take good care of her."

Y/n offered to let the Colonel and Captain touch the reptile but both men refused to leave from their spots and Y/n simply nodded before putting Stella back into her glass enclosure.

"Alright, let us go to the horse now."

Y/n led them to the horse stables outside the house.

There, the were greeted by the equines that resided within.

While Y/n introduced each horse, Soap couldn't take his eyes off one in particular.

Brown with white spots and lovely blue eyes and a beautiful mane that Soap could only imagine running his fingers through.

"Y/n...what's this one's name?" He asked.

"That is Vera, a strong stallion I found a couple week ago. Would you like to ride him?"

Soap turned back to him in awe.

"Can I?"

Y/n nodded before telling the others to wait outside by the gates so he could bring out the horse.

As he walked out Vera into the pin, the men couldn't help but enjoy the sight of Y/n and the horse, how calm they looked together.

Y/n beckoned Soap to come over once he finished putting on the saddle.

"Alright MacTavish, you ready?"

"As I'll ever be..."

Y/n first told him to get up onto the saddle first, laughing a few times as he tried to get up along with Alejandro saying something in Spanish making the others laugh, before making sure the man sat properly and the saddle was strapped to Vera correctly.

While Y/n used one hand to keep Vera in place to not move so much, he grabbed the reins and handed them to Soap.

"Be gentle with the reins, and slowly feel in tune with Vera. Animals feed off our emotions, so do not get nervous, da?"

Soap nodded slowly and looked back down at Vera.

"Go ahead and stroke his neck a little bit to get comfortable," Y/n instructed.

Soap followed and let his hand run along Vera's neck, letting soothing words fall from his lips as he greeted the horse.

Vera leaned in slightly to his touch and MacTavish beamed internally.

Y/n smiled as he noticed the action before turning back to Soap.

"Alright, we will go around the pin, ok?"

Soap nodded slowly.

He let Y/n lead him and Vera around the pin before coming back to a stop.

"Well done Zergeant," König said from the other side of the gate.

"Thanks, König."

"Alright how about this time you guide him?" Y/n suggested and the other let out sounds of approval as well.

"Yeah, MacTavish let's see if you can truly ride a horse!" Ghost said from the gate.

"I'll show ya!" Soap replied back before noticing Vera move at bit when he yelled and immediately apologizing.

"How about I ride alongside you, Soap?"

"Please..." Soap looked him dead in the eye as he pleaded for Y/n to ride with him.

Y/n let a chuckle leave and instructed Soap to get off Vera and stay with him while he went to get his own horse.

Soon enough, Y/n walked out with an all black Mustang he named Alek.

"Meet Alek, my mustang," Y/n said as he rode on top of the horse like it was nothing.

He galloped over to where Soap was before getting off and helping Soap back onto Vera, watching the man struggle a bit to get back up and laughing.

"Y/n!"

"It funny," Y/n grinned at him as he checked the straps again on Vera.

Once Soap was ready, he got onto Alek and showed Soap how to use the reins this time.

"Alright, you ready, comrade?" Yn asked.

Soap sighed and nodded.

"MAKE OR BREAK MACTAVISH!" Ghost yelled.

Soap laughed as he gripped onto Vera's reins and looking at Y/n one last time before moving the stallion around the pin slowly.

Thankfully, Vera was easy to work with as she went around slowly and came back around to Y/n and Alek before letting both join on the second loop.

Soap gleamed as he rode Vera and Y/n smiled at him.

"They look good together, eh?" Gaz whispered to the others.

"Yeah, if only MacTavish would ask him out," Ghost commented as he watched the Sergeant enjoy himself on top of the Stallion.

"Now he really looks like a Los Vaquero," Alejandro spoke from beside with a slight chuckle as well.

König smiled under his hood as he watched the pair enjoy themselves on the horses.

"I knew you zould do zit, Sergeant..." he whispered softly.

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If you like this work feel free to REBLOG with TAGS !!!

Tags make it easier to to navigate tumblr pages!

Thank you for reading!

-Guards

[liz-allyn]

sugar and vice, pt. 15 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]

summary: what’s worse - a painful truth or a beautiful liar?

words: 5.6 k

chapter warning: trigger warning - *tw sa* - pls read at your own risk. John Walker (is officially a c*nt trigger warning). ANNNNNNGST. Mean awful words.

series warnings: mob-typical violence, bang bang shoot shoot, whump. hurt/comfort. s*xu*l situations. spousal ab^se. family trauma. dr^g use. coercion. manipulation. kidnapping. gore. blood. toxic/yandere!peter (maybe, sorta), negative self talk, shameless forced proximity trope. ‘only ten one bed oops’ trope, imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions. extremely toxic relationships.

This version of TASM Peter is not canon. The relationships and characters here are not healthy.

Don't date a mob boss.™️

18+ You’re responsible for your own media consumption, but if you don’t remember when Shia LeBeouf was just Louis Stevens then I’m not sure this content is right for you.

Back to Part 14.

Part 15

She was inches off the ground, her feet kicking wildly. It was no different than a noose around her neck. John dragged her like a ragdoll into a wide bathroom stall. With his beefy hand clamped around her jaw, tight enough to crush it, he shut and latched the partition door.

The forced proximity caused her to mewl louder, hyperventilating in his grip. He lifted her further off the floor by the shoulders and slammed her against the tiles, expelling the air from her lungs. 

He was stronger than she remembered, his grip exponentially more painful. He’d no doubt logged extra hours in the gym, just like he used to, between his time at work and his time violating her.

She was weaker than she remembered, clawing helplessly at his arms with her shoulders pinned against the wall. Shrinking with terror at the feral look in his eye. Eventually, she went limp in his hold, submitting to her fate. She trembled uncontrollably, gasping through her nose, with her toes barely touching the tops of his feet. 

Just like old times.

“There you are!” he cheerfully cooed, with a tone that reminded her of the way two old women greet each other on Easter Sunday. 

His hand cemented her mouth closed while his forearm crushed her chest like a steel beam. “I’ve been worried sick about you, Peach. You haven’t answered my texts... my calls...” He grinned sadistically, with a festive tone. “I was beginning to think you’d fallen off the face of the Brooklyn Bridge!”

She had nightmares like this, where a scream tore at her throat but couldn’t break free. If she could, it would’ve pierced their eardrums. The panic in her eyes was shriller than sirens. Her heart drummed nearly as loud as the muffled music in the bar outside. Terror gripped her, and all he could do was laugh.

If she could scream, it would be one name: Peter.

As if John could read her mind, he narrowed his gaze, eyes darkening. Threatening. Daring her. “Now. I’m gonna move my hand so we can chat. And if you do so much as sneeze too loudly, I’ll drown you in that toilet bowl down there.”

She shuddered, tears spilling down her face. She sobbed. But she quit struggling. 

“Atta girl,” he purred with a wicked smile. Licking his lips, he wiped a tear away with the pad of his thumb. “Here we go.” Slowly, he loosened his grip, letting his palm slide down her chin and his fingers wrap dangerously around her throat.

She gaped up at him, wet eyes glimmering in the fluorescent light. 

“So,” he said, glancing between her petrified eyes and trembling lips. “What gives, Peach? Did you forget about me already?”

“John, please—”

He constricted his hand around the base of her neck. She pictured a python suffocating its prey, squeezing slowly until every bone shattered.

“I can’t help but feel like you’ve been ghosting me,” he said unnervingly lightheartedly. “Be honest. Was it something I said?”

She panted in short breaths. “Nonono, you don’t understand—I’m-’m trying to protect you!”

He tightened his grip.

“It’s the truth! You don-don’t understand—something is wrong... Peter is—he-he’s capable of things that-that humans shouldn’t be capable of!”

He curled a brow upwards, intrigued.

“I’ve seen it! It’s... it’s like the devil. I-I don’t know. He’s-he’s not human, John. I’ve seen him almost rip a man’s head off with his bare hands. Please, he’s... he’s not right—”

“You tellin’ me bedtime stories, Peach?” 

“Nooo,” she sobbed, shaking her head. He allowed her the space to do so. “I’m not, I swear! He-he can’t be stopped...I don’t know what he’ll do to me if he finds out— I don’t know what he’ll do to either of us—”

“Shh,” he whispered, his eyes softening. He wiped another tear from her cheek. “It’s okay, I got ya.” He stroked her face sweetly. It made her skin crawl—a cruel imitation of kindness. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. You just gotta use that silver tongue of yours.”

She gulped at his insinuation. 

“Speaking of which, you blow ‘em yet?” He sneered with a smile that made her nauseous, with an overemphasis on each syllable, “Come on, Hun-ney.” He wiped across her lower lip with the pad of his thumb, narrowing his eyes into slits. He breached her mouth, and she loathed the foul taste of his finger. “I know you’ve got what it takes.” 

She went stiff. Felt cold and clammy. Like her skin wasn’t attached to her muscles. She didn’t want to wear it anymore.

“Well,” John pouted, pulling his thumb away, “if you’re not willing to play, I’ll have to resort to other measures. Guess I’ll have to settle for the kid.”

Her eyes flashed with anger. “Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare touch Bella—”

“I’m not talkin’ about Bella,” he snickered. “And not any of your slutty sisters either.” Her brows pinched together anxiously. “I’m talkin’ about the other kid—Miles Morales.”

Her breath hitched in her throat. A Cheshire smile stretched his face like an evil clown out of a horror movie. “Fucked up what happened to his family,” John mused with faux sympathy. “If anyone ever knew where to find him, he’d be in real danger.”

Her glossy eyes widened and her blood went cold. He didn’t need to choke her. She was being strangled by a mix of terror and rage, cutting off her air supply. She thought she was going to pass out. 

“You can’t do that,” she whispered in shock. He tilted his head, glaring through slitted eyes. “He’s... he’s just a kid. He’s not even a part—”

“Oh, please,” he chuckled darkly. “Don’t tell me you’re that stupid. No one’s gonna believe that he’s some innocent bystander. Especially not the cops in this city.” 

Her upper lip curled. “You’ll never prove anything.”

“I don’t have to,” John said under his breath. His voice was as soft as a cloud, and his eyes turned to ice. “All I have to do is call for backup. Lotsa things happen when the police get involved. Miscommunication. Accidents.”

He let the words sink in, as if holding for a dramatic pause. He leered down at her maliciously, like he’d just delivered a punchline. Her sense of reason detached from her own body. A fresh swell of rage rose in her, boiling the blood in her veins.

She barely recognized her own voice, or the poisonous sound of her fury. “If you come near Miles, you’re a dead man,” she seethed, almost breathless with anger. “Peter will kill you.”

John’s smile melted at her insolence, staring at her with disbelief. Rage spread through him.

She recognized that look. Knew it well, like an old friend. This was usually the part where he’d flatten her with the back of his hand. 

She expected it. Welcomed it. She was convinced that it would have been worth it.

Instead, he pulled back his chin, studying her with scrutiny. “Wow,” he scoffed in disgust. “Parker got you good. He’s your knight in shining armor, isn’t he?”

He released her weight, letting her stand on her own, but kept his forearm against her chest. With the other hand, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a smartphone. Tapping in a code, he unlocked the screen and held it up to her view. She blinked rapidly, her eyes struggling to focus on the harsh blue light.

The image that came into view baffled her. It looked like a red paint can had exploded. But she knew who was showing her the picture, and anxious nausea gripped her. She looked away.

“Look. At. It,” he ordered through clenched teeth. “Recognize this?”

She glanced at the image with a stoic expression, which looked more like a Jackson Pollock painting than anything. She flicked her gaze upwards, glowering in silence. 

“No? Lemme show you the ‘before.’”

He swiped the photo away. Her eyes went cold.

Immediately, she recognized Peter. If you had asked her—that was the first thing she saw. He was in some kind of nightclub, maybe in a part of Web that she hadn’t seen. 

His face was partially obscured. But if you had asked her, she could tell you with certainty that it was Peter. That jutted jaw sporting a beard he’d worn up until today. That sharp nose. The prominent Adam’s apple in his throat. She’d recognize them anywhere. 

If you had asked her, he looked disheveled in a way she couldn’t recognize. His hair was wild. Black shirt slightly askew, hanging too loosely like he spent time in a mosh pit.

But if you had asked her at that moment, she wouldn’t say anything. She was unable to speak.

She was utterly frozen, staring horrified at the half-naked woman on his lap. The woman was wearing nothing but a thong and tiny slivers of fabric that barely contained her breasts. She straddled him, fingers laced around the buttons of his shirt. 

He didn’t look upset by it. Not one bit. 

Didn’t look concerned at all. Instead, his head was thrown back in what appeared to her as ecstasy. She’d recognized that expression. She’d seen it from that same angle. It had only been a couple of days since she was sitting where that woman sat.

A sharp line formed between her brows. It had only been a couple of days. 

This photo was taken with a long lens from a hidden angle. Someone had been spying on him. Watching him, unseen. Recently, too—there was a watermark of a date in the corner of the image. 

It had only been a couple of days ago.

She was numb. She didn’t need to look up at John to see him beaming down at her. The color was draining from her face, her natural hue turning greener every second. Viciously, he flicked his thumb, displaying another image.

This one had them locked in a filthy kiss. 

The next one had his lips latched to her chest.

The next one had his hands cupping her ass. Thumbs toying beneath the waistband of the silver thong she was wearing.

The next one had those hands buried in the woman’s hair—that gorgeous woman with her giant tits and flawless body. Perfect ass hoisted in the air as she bent her knees on either side of his thighs. Her tongue licked the flesh of Peter’s exposed chest. 

Although Honey’s eyes told her it was a still image, her brain projected a motion picture. Her mind crafted each frame, imagining this woman trailing down his sternum until she connected with the hard, thick line in his lap.

In her memories, she could vividly see his eyes, but now they were staring at this woman. Burning her with a hungry gaze. Speaking filthy vows as he worked himself with his own hand. Worshiping her like she was a goddess. 

“Aww, how sad,” John hummed, relishing in her pain. 

When had she started crying?

“Now, check this out. Lemme show you the ‘after.’”

Another flick of his thumb revealed a wider image of the painting. She gasped with horror as she recognized the paint splatter as human remains. It was all that was left of the woman. Body parts and organs spread across a room like disjointed puzzle pieces. Her mouth fell open in a silent gag as her stomach pitched. 

John snorted with a chuckle, “Geez, I can’t imagine the cock on this guy. Talk about splitting a woman in half, eh?”

Her heart crumbled. Her mind was shattered. Like the piano against the wall. Like that guard’s spine. Like the bloody mess of the man who’d kidnapped her. The whole world was red. 

“Did he tell you about Gwen?”

Her heart skipped at the sound of her name. Her eyes darted up to John’s—stunned. How did John know about the woman of Peter’s dreams—the other other woman in his fantasies? She gazed at him in disbelief. He snickered.

“Did he tell you they were married?”

Another stab to her heart. A phantom limb severed. 

“Did he tell you how she died?”

Another stone placed on her chest. She felt her lungs compress and buckle. 

“Did he tell you how he murdered his own wife?”

Now, she was nothing. Less than nothing. Pulverized. Crushed to dust. Ground into the dirt. No more a body than the bloody painting of Peter’s mistress.

“You know what’ll happen to me if something happens to Miles?” John said. 

He hooked a finger under her chin, pulling her gaze up to his. It was effortless. She had no fight left in her body. She was clay in his hands to mold however he wanted. A jellyfish washed up on shore. She had never had a backbone.

“Absolutely nothing,” he breathed, fixing her with a cruel smile. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, but she couldn’t feel them anymore. Couldn’t feel anything. 

“I won’t be the one that Parker goes after. It’ll be you. His sweet, saintly, slutty snake.”

She stared with lifeless eyes, like playing possum. That was a mistake. She knew it wasn’t any fun for John if he couldn’t see her suffer. He wouldn’t be sated. 

“Oh. One more thing. You forgot this.” He put his phone back in his pocket, retrieving another one. Her eyes went wide. It was hers—the one she kept hidden in her bedroom. “Can’t leave this lying around just anywhere,” he glowered. 

She felt an iron grip on her thigh. She gasped sharply, but he cupped her mouth and sealed off the cries. Viciously, he wrenched up her thigh, pulling her legs apart. His fingers groped beneath the hem of her dress. A scream bubbled up in her throat as he shoved his hand into her underwear. 

“Gotta make sure you keep this close,” he sneered through gritted teeth. Cold glass was placed crudely against her flesh, sending a chill that penetrated every cell in her body. In her mind, she thrashed, shrieked, kicked, hollered, scratched, bit, punched, yelled, clawed, bludgeoned, and punctured. But aside from sobbing, her body did nothing. 

Just like old times.

When he retracted his hand, her limbs were rubber. If his hand on her mouth hadn’t nailed her to the wall, she would’ve collapsed. 

Instead, he leered down at her, feasting on her anguish and relishing her torment.

He smirked. 

There was no need for threats. No need to worry about her at all. She was broken. Weak. She would fall apart if he pushed her—a dandelion in a hurricane.

He released her, letting her knees buckle. She slid down the wall, trembling, crumbling beneath the toilet bowl. She winced at the uncomfortable feeling of a foreign object between her thighs.

“You run along now,” he muttered, undisturbed. “You’ll be okay as long as you can manage to keep your legs closed.”

Peter leaned back against the wall, letting the coolness seep into his scalp. His eyes were closed as he hummed a tune playing on the jukebox. Every breath was measured steadily, trying to shut out the noises around him.

He’d almost lost it. Again.

And while he was dreaming up violent pictures and all the different ways he could slaughter the two drunkards—who had smartly disappeared—he felt the sensation of an icy breeze tickling his body. It started gentle, like a gust of late autumn wind against bare skin. A moment later, the temperature plunged. It was excruciating, stab wounds all over his skin like he’d been dropped into a frozen river. 

His eyes opened wide, a gasp filling his lungs. A chill he hadn’t felt in years shot down his spine. His gaze darted across the room, frantically searching. And then he spotted her—his girl stomping across the bar, rushing towards the exit. Her shoulders were rigid, arms wrapped tightly around herself, head down. She was a few paces away from sprinting. He could smell her tears from here.

His eyebrows pinched together. “Honey?”

She stopped for nothing. Scampered on shaky legs and unsteady heels out onto the sidewalk. Frozen tear tracks decorated her cheeks like glitter. She could hear Peter calling after her. The sound of his voice made her want to rip her face off. 

A bomb of vile fury— ugly, savage, and raw— had been set off beneath her ribs. Rage vaporized her insides, burning blisters across her heart. A firestorm in her stomach and chest threatened to incinerate everything in her path.

“Honey! Wait up!”

Her eyes were blurry—glazed over. She recognized the shape of a yellow cab in front of her. Didn’t hesitate for a moment. 

“Taxi!” she shouted, reaching for the door handle. She wrenched it open—if she had a fraction of Peter’s strength, she would’ve ripped the sedan in half.

Just before she crawled inside, the door slammed shut. Again. Peter tried to pull her back from the edge. Again. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa— what the hell—?”

“Don’t touch me!” she shrieked, voice like shattered glass. 

The shrillness of it caused him to jolt. Immediately, Peter removed his hand from her upper arm, a bewildered look on his face. He blinked in confusion, overwhelmed by the redness of her eyes and the streaks of mascara down her face.

“What happened?” he gasped softly. His voice hardened to a demand. “Who did this to you?”

“Get the fuck away from me!” she screamed in a tone that was sharp and piercing enough to cut through the concrete jungle of New York City’s streets. 

Peter suddenly felt every eye in the city on him, reminding him they stood on a busy Manhattan street. Flushed, he glanced around to see a crowd of bystanders turning to look. Curious and judgmental eyes attacked him from every direction.

Calming himself, he lowered his voice. “Honey, talk to me. What happened?”

Her eyes were wild. “Where’s Bella?”

“What?”

“Where is she, Peter? Where did you take her?!”

He curled a brow upwards, studying her, becoming more disturbed by her erratic outburst. “We talked about this,” he said placatingly, “I told you she was safe—”

“All you told me was that you took my family out of their home and hid them away from me!” She roared with a sharp, accusatory tone, “What did you do to them?! Where are they?! What did you do with my baby niece?!”

Compared to her, he was a whisper in the wind. “Honey, please, just calm down—”

“Forget it, I’m leaving!”

“What? No, I’ll drive us home!” Peter rushed after her, trying to maintain control of the situation. Panicked, he made eye contact with a man sitting at the valet stand just off the arcade entrance. He called to him, “Hey! Bring my car ‘round, will ya?” He hurried to give the valet his ticket, and the young man darted off immediately at the command.

Honey was now ten feet away from him and expanding her lead. The crowd was still eagerly watching the drama unfold. His senses buzzed him again as his eyes found a beat cop parked in a police cruiser nearby. He broke eye contact with the suspicious eyes of the officer, jogging away to catch up to her.

She turned a corner just as he approached. “Honey, I said I’d drive you—”

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” she hissed. He jumped into her path, fighting the urge to make contact.

“Wait a minute—!”

“Get away from me!” she hollered, her voice cracked and ravaged with cries. She stopped and backed up, putting several feet between them. A couple that was passing by slowed to a stop to watch. As did a senior man walking his dog. As did an off-duty driver watching from his cab.

Peter could recognize a power shift when he saw one. Now, standing on Fifth Avenue with her screaming her head off in front of a growing audience, she had all the power in the world.

He breathed heavily through his nose, his voice barely above a whisper, “Please, just slow down. Lower your voice. Tell me what’s wrong—”

“Or what?” she snapped, her volume still teetering on hysteria. “You’ll kidnap me again?” She was louder than a jet engine. 

He felt faint, with the constant sirens in his mind alerting him to impending danger. He was defenseless. 

“You're gonna throw a bag over my head and put me in the trunk?” she hissed. “In front of all these people?”

He swallowed hard, stomach twisting. Skin burning from dirty looks in the crowd. Cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. 

“That’s your weakness, isn’t it?” she speared him, relentless in her attack. “You thrive in the shadows. You can’t survive without the dark! Can’t live where people can see how dirty you are out in the open! You’re worse than a rat; you’re fucking vermin! You act like you’re different, like you’ve got some moral code! But you’re no different than those dirty cops! All you want is to control people!”

His chest heaved while his gaze blackened. He lowered his chin, quietly seething. “Honey. Let’s not talk about this here.”

“I’m taking a cab.”

“You’re not gettin’ in a cab by yourself.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not safe!”

She glowered resentfully, jabbing a finger at him, “You’re not safe!” He blinked rapidly, taken aback by the pure loathing in her eyes. Rage flowed through her veins like lava. He’d never seen her so savagely cruel, like she was savoring the violence in her mouth.

“You call that love?” she demanded, voice cracking with cries. “Devotion? That’s obsession! Slavery!” Her whole body was shaking, eyes ablaze. “Fuck you! You don’t know what it means to love!” 

The twist beneath his ribs was beginning to throb. Nostrils flared, he glared back and opened his mouth to speak. She unleashed another barrage the moment she saw his resistance. 

“You know how to fight, but you don’t know what it means to surrender.” Her voice was quieter but no less vicious. She stalked towards him, emboldened by her anger. “You think I didn’t want to leave home? I wanted to run away! But I didn’t! I stayed... because that’s my mother! I stayed there to protect my sisters!” She paused only for air. “Suffering! Sacrifice! That’s love! How dare you pretend you know anything about it!” 

“I’ve sacrificed,” he bit back, his hardened defensively. His eyes were lit up by the cars that passed by, the glimmer in them unmistakable. “And for the record—that’s not love. Love isn’t suffering. That’s fear.”

She eyed him lividly, words spewing out like boiling poison. “How would you know?” she hissed. “Everyone that ever loved you is dead. And everyone left alive is too scared to tell you the truth.”

He pressed his lips together, lifting his chin. His eyebrows furrowed together, eyes hung solemnly on her seething form. She spotted the tick in his jaw. The way he clenched it tight to keep himself from breaking down in her presence. 

Against her will, the sight soured her rage. She inhaled slowly through her nose, biting down her jaw to keep her lip from wobbling in response.

He sniffed, rubbing his nose briefly. “That feel good?” he said bitterly. He glanced up at her, tears brimming in his eyes. “I bet it did. Now you finally know what it’s like to stand up for yourself.”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple sliding up and down as if he was keeping something rancid from crawling up his throat. He sniffed again. Eyes flicked away. “Pretty nice bein’ on the opposite end for a change? Or do you get off on the pain more?”

Her irritation flared; his words sliced into her like a dagger. Her eyes burned with built-up tears. 

“You like that, yeah?” he glowered. His eyes flashed with anger, temper flaring. “Ain't that right?” He hissed through gritted teeth, stalking up until he was inches from her. “You love it when the bad men hurt you. Fuckin’ love being a victim. So much that you’re willing to apologize for it. Admit that you wanna be controlled! You wanna be tied up and kept! It’s your goddamn dirty fantasy, isn’t it?”

His voice reverberated off the buildings before he buttoned his lips. Nostrils flaring, he dropped his gaze to the cement beneath their feet. She glared back, but she wasn’t looking at him. 

Instead, she saw that slut writhing on top of him while she foolishly—stupid, stupid girl— worried for his safety. 

“You’re confusing your fantasies with reality,” she sneered lividly. “You bastard, you don’t even know my name. You don’t know anything about me.”

His jawbone twitched, eyes downcast. “How could I? How could anyone? You never let me in.” He glanced up at her beneath his lashes, bitterness in his gaze. “I don’t know if you won’t because you don’t trust me or because it’s just easier for you to lie. But I am the only one who has laid it all out for you! I’ve told you exactly who I am, and what I am!”

She shook her head, her tone virulent, “And I hate all of it.” 

The viciousness of her tone gave him pause. The sweet girl in the coffee shop was gone. Her humanity was ripped from her cells. He stood in horrified awe. Completely aghast and wondering who would have destroyed her like this. Who on Earth had the power to tear apart a soul the way hers had been?

“You were right, Peter,” she softly declared. “Your aunt and uncle didn’t deserve to die like that.” All the tears had drained from her eyes; the remnants dripped from her chin. Her quivering lip shook them loose. “But you do.”

The killing blow. That’s all he needed to hear in order to posit his answer. 

He had been the one to kill her. To break her spirit. Tear apart her soul. He just hadn’t realized it until now.

He heard the roar of a familiar V8 engine. Glancing over, still slightly glazed from the raw energy of their fight, he saw his Basalt Black Porsche Spyder pulling up to the curb. It stopped several paces away, high gloss shine glittering in the streetlights. It was a stunning jewel proclaiming his accomplishments, none of which he could immediately recall—or give a shit about.

Most of the faces on the sidewalk were now pointed away from them, but Peter could hear the cruel things they whispered under their breaths. Maybe they were right.

The valet popped out of the driver's side, smartly avoiding even a glance towards the couple. He disappeared, didn’t even wait for a tip. 

Peter stared at the ajar door, reeling with hot emotions and dreading the next fight ahead.

“Get in the car, Honey,” he muttered darkly. Any ounce of kindness or patience had evaporated.

“Fuck off.”

He flashed rageful eyes at her. “I’m not tellin’ you again. Get. In the car.”

She narrowed her eyes and scoffed at his empty threat. “You gonna have me whacked, Boss?”

He tilted his head. Glowered at her for several moments. “Of course not.” His tone was calm and his eyes gentle, a shocking contrast to his livid demeanor moments before. He strolled towards her until she was within arm’s length.

“I’m gonna let you go,” he said matter-of-factly. “Gonna let you run. Get as far away from me as you can, until I’m nothin’ but a bad memory. I’m gonna let you go free. Let you believe that you really won this time.” Like a feather, he drifted closer, stopping inches from her ear. He whispered icily, “Then I’m gonna hunt you down.” 

She flicked her gaze to his. His eyes were black, possessed by rage and whatever other evil lived inside his soul. “And I will bring you back. In handcuffs, if I have to. In chains.” He leveled his gaze at her, speaking in a hushed tone. “You think I’m scary now? You think I’m the bad guy? No. You haven’t seen me bad, Honey. You haven’t seen me angry.”

Her expression was stone. The threat lingered in the air, but she didn’t respond. He doubted she lacked the courage to do so. She likely didn’t have the energy.

She simply didn’t care anymore. 

“I’ve seen all I need to see,” she said calmly, letting out a tired sigh. 

Rolling her eyes, she rounded around him and began strolling towards the car. She walked with an airy gait, floating like a ghost. Untethered to this world. Empty and void of anything resembling life. “Dinner is over,” she bitterly muttered. “And I’m ready to go back to my room now—”

A force collided with her upper back like she took a punch to the spine. Before she could cry out, she was flying backward. 

The car shrank in her gaze. She came to a sudden stop, crashing against the brick wall of Peter’s chest, steel beams wrapping around her. They were both flying through the air, spinning dizzily, until coming to a hard crash on the pavement. 

The air ejected from her lungs as she rolled to her back. Peter’s body covered hers, shielding her.

A bright flash. Blinding light. A blast of heat. 

A shockwave erupted from the sportscar as it exploded into flames.

And then, there was nothing but silence.

Her lungs felt like they were on fire. She choked on methane, her chest trembling from damage. Her eyes fluttered open to see Peter gazing down at her. Doe eyes. Wide and terrified. He was sobbing. She could barely hear him over the ringing in her ears.

“Wake up, baby... Baby, please, please come back to me, wake up wake up, come back, stay with me staywithmeplease staywithme—”

It sounded like she was at the bottom of a well.

On the next inhale, she broke into a coughing fit. The change in pressure of her airways restored some of her hearing, but she was still trapped in a coffee can. The whole world rattled and buzzed around her. 

Peter’s face filled with relief, albeit short. “I got you.” His voice trembled. She was no longer on the ground. She was freezing and soaked, covered in road mud and sleet. She shook against the heat of his chest. Her fingers were icicles, and it was painful to grip his neck.

“I got you,” he repeated. “S’okay. Gonna get us out of here, okay? Just close your eyes for me.”

The bright lights of a bonfire blinded her, and closing her eyes was a welcome relief. Then her stomach pitched, like she jumped off a building. 

She kept her eyes closed. Gripping him close, her nails dug into the leather of his jacket. She was so cold. Like she’d been walking through a blizzard. Could barely feel her toes. What happened to her shoes?

She jostled as she came to a sudden stop. Her head throbbed from the jerking sensation. It was like she’d been in a car crash. Or had gotten hit by a bus.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Peter repeated, terror stretching his voice thin. “Sorry so sorry so sorry I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it—”

She felt herself crying, shaking in his hold. The sharp prickle of gravel on the backs of her exposed legs startled her. Dizzied, she blinked up at him in confusion. His gaze was buried within hers. He cradled her close to his chest. 

She was disoriented. Where did the buildings go? Were they on the roof? When did they go upstairs? Had she blacked out?

“Baby, look at me,” he called to her, his voice as gentle as a lake. Her eyes struggled to focus. Her mouth opened, but she couldn’t breathe enough to speak. Choked on the frost in the air. Choked on the taste of blood in her mouth.

Her eyes went wide, gazing up at him as terror settled in. Her brain started to reboot, putting pieces together, but her pulse pounded as the picture came to life. The car blew up. Right in front of her. They had almost died. She had almost died. Peter had almost died.

She sobbed. Cried out his name.

He held her tight, rocking her like a child. “It’s okay,” he whispered soothingly. He dug his arm beneath her knees, elevating her legs while dipping his hold on her back. He was so warm, always warm all the time—practically burning up. She was so cold. 

“You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay. Just breathe.” 

Tearfully, she hiccuped, sucking in big gasps of air. “Pete—”

“Shh, shh,” he cooed. “Breathe for me, baby. Just breathe. Just like you taught me, yeah? In and out. We’re gonna take a moment to breathe.” 

“M’sorry... I’m sorry about everything,” her voice broke over the words. It felt like her tongue wouldn’t move as she wanted it to. “I didn’t mean it—” 

His face was filthy, streaked with tears and horror and blood. He shook his head, touching his nose to her. “It’s okay, baby. Just rest right now, okay?”

“Peter, what happened?” she cried, shuddering as he rocked her. “Wha...?”

“It’s okay, sweetie. S’okay, we just fell. We fell. You-you hit your head... and—fuck, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault—”

“I’m co-cold...”

“Here.” He shucked off his jacket, blanketing her with it. “We gotta get you warm. Just need t’get a good look at you, see where you’re hurt.”

“Di-Did I almost die?”

He winced. Squeezed his eyes closed, like holding back a scream. “No, baby.” He swallowed hard. “No. I was never gonna let that happen. I’m never gonna let that happen, I swear.” His face crumpled as he pressed an agonized kiss to her forehead. “I’m so sorry. I’ll never—I’ll never hurt you again, I swear it. I swear.”

Her face crumpled as he squeezed her body to his chest. She closed her eyes, burying her wet cheeks in the crook of his neck.

He was sorry. So was she.

But not nearly enough. 

Not yet. 

Continue to Part 16

[back to masterlist]

A/N yeeeeeaaaah. originally, i planned for 14 and 15 to be one chapter, but instead, we needed some semblance of joy. for a moment.

thank you so much for everyone that has given me beautiful feedback and notes and fun little ideas for the playlist—I have been going through a mountain of stuff but I appreciate you all so much.

want to be on the taglist for the next one? make sure you reblog!

take care, spider fam

[red-black-aesthetic-bout]

RED AND BLACK TOURNAMENT: ROUND ONE UNDERWAY

Polls will be released every hour throughout the day (10 am - 7 or 8 pm EST) for the next week

Submit character propaganda or descriptions at any time via ask box or reblogging

Tags

redblack tournament (poll tag)

redblack propaganda

round wrapup

round 1 (etc.)

mod speaks

ask answered

character info post

lightning round (prelim tag)

winners

redblack reblog (reminders to vote at one day left)

About the poll, info, and guidelines

Round one matchups under the cut!!

Bracket 1

Ruby Rose (RWBY) vs. Vanitas (Kingdom Hearts)

Mello (Death Note) vs. Rhaenyra Targaryern (House of the Dragon)

Kuga Yuma (World Trigger) vs. Kiki (Kiki’s Delivery Service)

Clifford (Clifford the Big Red Dog) vs. Dracula (Castlevania)

Kai Satou (Your Turn to Die) vs. Ladybugs/Ladybirds (real life)

Zuko (Avatar: the Last Airbender) vs. Kuro (Katamari)

Kate (Shadows House) vs. The Cat (Ghost Trick)

Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch (Marvel comics) vs. Red X (Teen Titans)

Elric of Melniboné (The Elric Saga/Michael Moorcock’s Eternal Champion Multiverse) vs. Naomi Armitage (Armitage the Third)

Alucard (Hellsing Ultimate) vs. Keith Kogane (Voltron: Legendary Defenders)

Lance (Sym Bionic Titan) vs. Panpeus (Gitaroo Man)

Six-Eared Macaque (Lego Monkie Kid) vs. Flick (Animal Crossing)

Watchdog (Jupiter-Men) vs. Crowley (Good Omens)

Eye of Sauron (Lord of the Rings) vs. Ylfa Snorgelsson (Dimension 20: Neverafter)

Razer (Jak X: Combat Racing) vs. Kieran Valentine (Monster High: Why Do Ghouls Fall In Love?)

Wei Wuxian (The Untamed/MDZS) vs. Giant Horse (Breath of the Wild)

Shadow the Hedgehog (Sonic the Hedgehog) vs. Black Sonichu/Blake (CWC’s Sonichu)

Sailor Mars (Sailor Moon) vs. The Toy Soldier (The Mechanisms)

Ada Wong (Resident Evil) vs. Jack Spicer (Xiaolin Showdown)

Tophat (The Nightly Manor) vs. Marceline the Vampire Queen (Adventure Time)

Parr Family/The Incredibles (The Incredibles) vs. Pioneer 9 (17776 and 20020)

Guilmon (Digimon) vs. Julian Devorak (The Arcana)

Miles Edgeworth (Ace Attorney) vs. Sundancer (Worm - Parahumans)

HAL 9000 (2001: A Space Oddyssey) vs. Eas (Fresh Precure)

Harley Quinn (DC comics) vs. Itachi Uchiha (Naruto)

Scorpia (She-ra and the Princesses of Power) vs. Redcloak (Order of the Stick)

Scarlet Kingsnake (real life) vs. Hornet (Hollow Knight)

Maka Albarn (Soul Eater) vs. Toa Tahu (Bionicle)

Thorn (Scooby Doo and the Witch’s Ghost) vs. Litten (Pokémon)

Maned Wolf (real life) vs. Orko (He-Man)

Rebecca Rubin (American Girl Dolls) vs. Lucifer (Obey Me)

Death the Wolf/The Wolf/Lobo/Death etc. (Puss in Boots: the Last Wish) vs. Joker (Persona 5) Bracket 2

Miles Morales/Spiderman (Marvel comics) vs. Cynder (Spyro)

Edelgard von Hresvelg (Fire Emblem franchise) vs. Sanguine (The Elder Scrolls)

Artegor Nexus (Galactik Football) vs. Beidou (Genshin Impact)

Barb (Trolls) vs. Mao Mao (Mao Mao Heroes of Pure Heart)

Wrathion, the Black Prince (World of Warcraft) vs. Vox Akuma (Nijisanji En)

Romeo (Minecraft: Story Mode) vs. Hua Cheng (Heaven Official’s Blessing/TGCF)

Sharkface (Red vs. Blue) vs. Ashley (WarioWare)

Carmen Sandiego (Carmen Sandiego) vs. Beatrice (Umineko no Naku Koro ni)

Claire Stanfield/Felix Walken (Baccano!) vs. Deathgripper (How to Train your Dragon)

Default Mii Brawler (Super Smash Bros Ultimate) vs. Silver (Pokemon franchise)

Joui Jouki (Ordem Paranormal) vs. Banica Conchita (Evillious Chronicles)

Dreadking Rathalos (Monster Hunter Generations) vs. Black Widow Spider (real life)

Celestia Ludenberg (Danganronpa) vs. Gira/Kuwagata Ohger (Ohsama Sentai: King Ohger)

Garnet (Steven Universe) vs. Black Knight (Monty Python and the Holy Grail)

Scott Summers/Cyclops (X-men) vs. Heather Chandler (Heathers)

Lon (Sendokai champions) vs. Edward Elric (Fullmetal Alchemist)

Darth Maul (Star Wars) vs. Defective Turret (Portal 2)

Easthies (Witch Hat Atelier) vs. Grim (Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy)

Zagreus (Hades) vs. Freddy Kreuger (A Nightmare on Elm Street)

Black Rose Dragon (Yu-Gi-Oh!) vs. Marian Hawke (Dragon Age 2)

Michael Burnham (Stark Trek franchise) vs. Mapo Tofu (Food Fantasy)

Flapjack (The Owl House) vs. Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Ladybug (Miraculous Ladybug)

Red-winged Blackbird (real life) vs. Pucca (Pucca)

Overblot Riddle (Twisted Wonderland) vs. Quattro Bajeena (Mobile Suit Gundam franchise)

Pyramid Head (Silent Hill) vs. Lord Hater (Wander Over Yonder)

Sigmund Sinclair (The Reckoning) vs. Vash the Stampede (Trigun 98/Trigun Maximum)

Ranma Saotome (Ranma ½) vs. Valerie Gray (Danny Phantom)

Mephone 4s (Inanimate Insanity) vs. Regina (Doki Doki Precure)

Mordecai Heller (Lackadaisy) vs. Sideswipe (Transformers G1)

Satan (Lil Nas X’s Montero music video, and also Christianity or something) vs. Zealot Carmainerose (Epic 7)

Zero (Code Geass) vs. Yor Briar (Spy x Family)

Vincent Valentine (Final Fantasy franchise) vs. Ryuko Matoi (Kill la Kill)

[fictionkinfessions]

The skies are cloudy and it's been raining for the past 12 hours- it's dim and dark and the sun is nowhere in sight. The perfect kinshift for such a miserable autumn's day 🩶.

I had a memory last night, before I fell asleep, and it confirms that I was both transmasc, and the eldest of my Mother and Father's children. I was sitting somewhere, preparing to administer my Tshot, as one does, and a little Wednesday tottles in and stares at me as I do so. Of course, I let her watch and wait to see if she had any questions (she always had questions). Eventually she asks what was in the syringe, and I tell her "the essence of many men". She was thoughtful, and gave her sharp little nod before tottling away. It still makes me smile to this day- she was always a cruel little one, and it's no surprise that she was satisfied with my answer 🩶

I have a vague recollection of a family portrait that was hung in the manor, and while I don't believe I have the skill to copy it exactly, I wonder if I could recreate it in my own way. Close enough to be able to see it again.

I remember having pets- at least one snake (a super cinnamon ghost/silver bullet ball python, and/or a super black pastel ball python) and one tarantula (desert blonde). I would carry my python around everywhere with me- she was a gift from my aunt from around the time I was born, and we never parted. She was a sweet girl, and very friendly- I can't remember if she had any eggs in her lifetime, but I'm leaning towards yes.

My tarantula was a gift from my father, and I remember him being very excited to gift her to me. She was only a year or two old when we got her, and I believe Father got her from a friend of his, if my memory serves. My tarantula was shy and timid, but would still enjoy being held every now and then; she didn't much care for walks/being carried places, though.

I remember when Wednesday first started to try and kill me. I would entertain her, of course- let her "win" like an older brother should. One time she buried me alive after attempting to slip something into my drink; I believe it was a sedative/poison mixture. Though she was too small to reach any strong stuff, so I had already awoke before she even begun to dig the hole. Obviously, I went back to sleep so she could still have her little victory, but it was all very endearing. Plus, nothing gets you ready for the day quite like escaping from your own grave! Reminds a man that he's alive.

We were always so proud of Wednesday's talents, of the way she expressed her passions and interests. When the time came, she was also an exceptional older sister to our brother, and taught him many things. I remember grand family gatherings in the manor: sometimes with just the Addams', and other times with distant relatives, too. I believe Mrs. Lily Munster was Mother's sister, and our Aunt, so they would visit the manor a bit more often than the other relatives. Aunt Lily and my Father had taught me how to sing since I was young, and so I often performed at large gatherings with our other musically inclined relatives.

I've also been thinking about what my name might've been, and Márquez has been floating around at the top. It definitely feels like a name my father would choose, but I'll let it sit in my mind a while before confirming anything too quickly.

Anyways, this is getting long since I've been adding things to this throughout the day, so I'll leave that there 🩶 It's always nice to reminisce on old times, though.

- A member of the Addams Family #🪦🥀🌕

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