#he seems willing to help now because I’ve been so determined but how willing to help will he be when he learns that getting into

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Elite Serial Killer (2)

Part 1

Like frightened deer you scatter

In your opinion, you get pretty far

At one point climbing up high to see where the lights of the small town were

You were making great time 

“(Y/n)! Down here!”

The sun was rising and while you were hesitant you did go to meet ‘Piggie’

She seems high-spirited for such a horrible situation

But she shares the berries she’s found that weren’t poisonous

And clues you in on some helpful camping knowledge

So you’re none the wiser when you feel a sharp pain in the back of your head 

 Waking bleary-eyed to the tight hold of a bloody rope around you 

The sun has long since set and all you can gather is that you're tied to a tree 

You hesitate to call for the girl only for somebody’s nails to dig into your scalp

It's her and she looks deranged covered in dirt and blood (it doesn’t look like it's hers)

Being sure to throw rocks and kick at you for emphasis she explains how she already knows the major twist of this hunt

They own the town 

No help would have been given if you had arrived there

Or even to the airport 

So she says she’s going to stand her ground to entrap them the second they come for the bait

And the bait just so happens to be you

When you ask her why it’s because she hates your pity

“At least when they kick me in the dirt they have the decency to know I belong there!”

She sounds demented 

But determined

So much so you’re sure if this was a movie she’d be the 'final girl'

But you’re here so that’s not happening

Hearing sticks snap and bushes shake you’re sure they’re on the way

So you shut your eyes in fear

Saying your final prayers as you feel the heat of another person stalking up to you

“How disappointing I expected you to get farther.”

It sounds like something he’d say before lobbing off your head

So you prepare for the oncoming blow 

Only to hear a shotgun fire off 

‘Piggie’ screams

So you look up to see Wille grinning madly in that direction before turning back to you 

He holds your face gently but firmly

Turning your head as he examines you 

“She really did a number on you.” 

He sighs snapping his fingers 

An unknown masked person cuts through the ropes 

Holding you on their back and securing the back of your knees

“Take them back to my room and patch them up I’ll gladly delight in my prize once I’ve finished.”

Wille takes off in a giddy sprint as he watches another masked servant drive off in a quad bike with you on the back

Now that the only real stake in this hunt is out he can really let loose

He’s been doing this for a long while

Enticing the masses at whatever new college or preparatory school he could 

Providing a plentiful harvest for his family 

And it’s great for a while but unfortunately, he just hasn’t found what’s missing 

His mother and father have each other and their pets respectively

His brother does as well

And then his sister…well she enjoys just hunting

But he was never like her

He took care of his appearance more, grew his hair long, and wasn’t pretending to be an apathetic prick

Though he could see how easy it was to become that way

He hates how forward people are when they want something from him or his family

He does admire the tenacity of the poor

But among the fellow rich? 

Absolutely unforgivable

He can only imagine the terrified faces he stalks being that of those hated elites

And of course, in the midst of a mission to harvest is when he becomes aware of you

It’s not really any one thing you do 

You just happen to exist close enough to his latest harvest grounds

It’s not your college but something of a rival school

And all it takes is one mutual and he’s whipped

Suddenly he’s decided that you're the perfect one for him

The prize  that’s greater than anything he could buy

To be Continued

[not-neverland06]

Bad Day

part two

Bo Sinclair x fem!reader, Vincent Sinclair x fem!reader (not together, I don’t do that twincest shite) A/N: I don’t usually think about slashers until Halloween, but I’ve just had House of Wax brainrot for the past two weeks, so I wanted to get this out Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence (barely) Summary: Stranded on the side of the road with shitty friends, you’re forced to visit Ambrose, home of the infamous House Of Wax. Unfortunately for you, you manage to catch the attention of not one, but two of the Sinclair brothers.

“Hey, what’s that noise?”

Sarah looks over her shoulder at you and shrugs. “What’re you talking about?”

You roll your eyes and tap Dean on the shoulder, he grunts, the best answer you’ll get from him. “Pull over, I think something’s wrong with the car.” He gives you a questioning glance over his shoulder but shrugs and pulls onto the side of the desolate road. 

You could hear the rest of your friends pulling up behind you in their truck as you hopped out. You walk to the front of the car, popping open the hood and immediately regretting it as a cloud of smoke blasts you in the face. “Shit,” you hiss, backing up and fanning the air in front of your face. 

“Oh, fuck,” the angriest you’d ever heard your stoic friend Dean, and his voice was still barely above a whisper. Alison, Owen, Gwen, and Damien hopped out of their truck and came rushing over to the three of you. 

“What’s going on?”

“Something’s wrong with Y/N’s piece of shit car.” You rolled your eyes at Sarah’s bitchy attitude, you don’t know why you agreed to this trip. You barely like any of them, they were horrible people and worse friends. You’re pretty sure the only reason they invited you was because Owen’s truck couldn’t fit all of them and you were the only one they knew with a big enough car for the rest. 

“I saw a sign, some place called Ambrose, we could try there. Might have someone who could help.”

You all glanced at each other, each of you trying to come up with a solution, but nothing was better than Owen’s suggestion. What's the worst that could happen?

Your car had managed to make it long enough to get to some campground, you really hadn’t been willing to just abandon it on the side of the road to be stolen. Now, you all sat in the grass, debating who should head into town. 

“Y/N should go. It’s her car.”

“Thank you, Allison,” you glared at her, “but I’m not willing to go into some strange town all on my own.”

Owen let out a loud sigh before he reluctantly said, “I’ll go with you.” You were overwhelmed by his kindness. Not. 

There was a high pitched scoff and you glanced over to see Allison glaring at her boyfriend. “You volunteered real quick.”

“Ally-”

She held up a hand and walked off, struggling slightly over the damp ground with her heels. Owen trailed after her, offering you a barely there apology as he left you with everyone else. You were acutely aware of how none of them would meet your eye. 

Up ahead, Ally was laying into Owen, probably another fight because she always thought he was trying to sleep with someone else. It didn’t take you long to realize you were on your own. You really hated these people. 

You stood up, shooting dirty looks over your shoulder as you started towards the woods Owen had determined would take you to Ambrose. “Thanks babe!”

You flipped Gwen off and kept walking. You grumbled to yourself as you tripped down the steep hill and cussed each of them out every time your foot sank into mud. The further down the hill you got the worse it was starting to smell. 

At first it was just musky and you assumed the stifling atmosphere was from the humidity. Then it started to really stink, putrid, rotting flesh stink. You gagged slightly the closer you got to the source of the smell. Your stomach was twisting and turning and you thought the skin inside your nose was burning as you tried to breath through your mouth. That only seemed to make it worse. Now you could taste the rot, feel it spilling down your throat.

“Y/N, wait!”

You jumped, looking over your shoulder at Owen approaching you, the rest of your friends behind him. The distraction cost you, though, your foot got twisted in a root and you let out a loud yelp as you went flying headfirst down the hill.  

“Oh, shit!” You could hear them laughing behind you as you rolled down the hill, your ribs and elbows busting against random rocks and roots. You hissed in pain when you finally came to a stop, already feeling a dozen different scrapes all along your body. 

You went to sit up but your hand sank into something soft and gooey, and oh god you were going to lose your lunch. 

You actually did throw up in your mouth, swallowing it with a burn as you scrambled desperately to get out of whatever putrid pit you were stuck in. You glanced around, finally coming across the source of the smell, dozens of carcasses surrounded you. Some of them so rotted you couldn’t even tell what animal it was anymore. 

You screamed as your hand finally found purchase on something. You glanced down at the hand wrapped around your own and shot up, your feet slipping and sliding against the gore. Two hands wrapped around your biceps and helped you, finally. 

You grasped onto the arms of whoever had you and practically leapt onto them in your attempt to escape. They pulled you away from the pit and you let out a shuddering sigh. “Thank you.”

You glanced up, finally getting to see the face of your savior. He had yellowed teeth, a sweat stained tank top on, and a very adorable smile as he patted your shoulder and backed off. “You alright?”

You let out a strained, “mhm,” as you attempted to catch your breath and not vomit on his feet. “There-“ you covered your mouth as bile rose up. You pointed towards the pit, taking in a deep breath, “Hand. Human hand.”

The man titled his head in confusion before walking over to the pit and digging around where you just were. You winced at the sound of squelching before he managed to reveal the hand once more. You jumped as he grabbed onto it, he laughed as he tugged at it until there was a loud pop and the hand came loose. 

“Anyone need a hand?”

Your friends, who had been standing at the top of the pit watching you struggle, stared at him with varying expressions of disgust. You let out an awkward laugh, relieved it had only been a mannequin and nothing worse. 

He turned around at the sound of your laughter and gave you another goofy smile. “Thank god,” you breathed. 

He came back towards you, completely unbothered by the death around him. “Sorry ‘bout your clothes.”

You glanced down at your shirt and grimaced, it was completely covered in brown blood and old bits of roadkill. “Not your fault.” You glanced towards the back of his truck, seeing old blood in the bed of it and realizing this is where he dumped the animals people hit on the highway. 

“Hey!” You both jumped at the booming voice and looked over to see Owen hopping awkwardly down the hill, skirting the dead bodies, and coming to stand next to you. The others hovered further behind. “You know where Ambrose is?”

The man ignored him, glancing at you. “That where you were heading?” You nodded and he scoffed, “Woulda been walking a long way. ‘Bout fifteen miles up the road.”

You elbowed Owen in the side and glared at him, “You said it was close!”

He rubbed his side and shrugged, “I don’t know, guess the walk was longer than I thought.” He evaded making any eye contact and stared at his shoes. You rolled your eyes, what an asshole. 

“I could give you a ride.”

You blanched at the man's suggestion, he seemed nice enough, but you really weren’t eager to get into a stranger’s truck. “No need, we’ll just take Owen’s truck.”

He shrugged, “Alright. But good luck getting in, there’s only one way to town and it’s not on any map.”

You let out a deep sigh, this day is just getting better and better. “We won’t be bothering you?” He shook his head and walked towards his truck, opening up the passenger door for you. 

You gave him a tense smile before digging your fingers into Owen’s arm and dragging him behind you. “You’re coming with me, don’t bother arguing.”

“Owen?” Allison shouted after him. 

The man answered before Owen could, “I’ll come back for y’all. Don’t you worry!” Something about the smile he shot at them, it was different than the one he’d directed towards you, there was something swimming between his yellowed teeth and honeyed smile. His eyes glittered with malicious intent and you shivered when he looked back at you. 

You didn’t really have another choice, you’d have to follow him. He, apparently, was the only one who could get you into town. You forced a kind smile on your face and thanked him as he helped you up in the truck. “I hope I don’t stink up your seats too bad,” you added as he rounded the front. 

You’d realized you’d spoken too soon when you actually got a chance to smell the interior of his truck. You clutched the seat as your eyes bulged out. Somehow, the inside was worse than the pit outside. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said as he hopped in the truck. You heard Owen groan under his breath beside you as he slammed the truck door close. 

“Shit,” he hissed, clutching his stomach and trying not to make a big deal about how fucking awful the truck smelled and felt. 

“I’m Lester,” the man told you, offering a hand for you to shake. You paused on holding your breath to tell him your and Owen’s names. “You’ll want to find Bo when we get into town. He’s the mechanic, he’ll be able to fix you up.”

You clutched the edge of the seat for the rest of the ride, trying to remain polite as you made small talk with Lester, but you could only hold your breath for so long. He seemed to pick up on your discomfort and rolled the windows down, “AC don’t work no more.”

“Maybe Bo could fix it.”

He glanced up at you, eyes lighting up like he’d never thought of that before. “Yeah! Maybe he could!” He let out a goofy laugh, slapping his thigh and smiling at you. “I ain’t never thought of that before.”

You let out a weak chuckle, the reaction was pretty extreme for something as simple as suggesting you got to a mechanic for car problems. Owen shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “Fuckin’ Christ.” He muttered, glancing at Lester out of the corner of his eye and shaking his head. 

You elbowed him again, ignoring his noise of pain and silently threatening him to shut up. You understood that Lester might stink and have strange reactions, but Christ, he was giving you both a ride fifteen miles out of his way. He could be a little more appreciative. 

“Alright,” the truck slowly rumbled to a stop. “We’re here.”

You glanced at Lester and then the clear lack of town through the windshield. “Um, what?”

He chuckled slightly, “It’s around the bend. Truck can’t go over that, though.” You followed the direction of his gaze and lifted yourself from the seat to see a little creek and a broken bridge. “Go ahead and I’ll go back for your friends.”

Owen opened the door, practically flying out of the truck. He took in deep and dramatic inhales as the stifling Louisiana air hit him in the face. You rolled your eyes at him and turned back towards Lester, “Thank you so much for the help.”

He gave you a strange look, not quite mean but not very friendly, “Don’t thank me yet.” You had barely closed the door before he was peeling off. 

You turned towards Owen but he just shrugged, “I don’t know man, I just want to get the fuck out of here.”

You nodded, turning towards the creek, “Agreed.”

You were thankful you’d chosen a black tank top, the sun was beating directly down on you and you were pretty sure you had already sweat through every layer you had on. You were desperate for a hair clip or rubber band or literally anything to get your hair off your neck. Another minute sweating like this and you were just going to chop it all off. 

“Hey, up there.”

“Finally!” You and Owen both sped up, rushing towards the auto shop, eager to get somewhere with air conditioning. But when Owen tried the door it wouldn’t budge, he pulled and pushed, wiggled it way too many times and you snapped. “It’s locked, dipshit!”

“Think I don’t know that?” He snapped back. 

You crossed your arms and glared at him, “Then let it go and give up.” He let out a pissy sigh and whirled around, canvassing the rest of town. His eyes landed on the small chapel and he nudged you, pointing at it.

“Maybe there’s someone in there.”

You followed hesitantly after him as he walked towards it. The closer you got the louder the voices inside were. “Wait, Owen, I think there’s a service going on. We shouldn’t just barge in.”

He rolled his eyes and ignored you, throwing the door open without care and glaring inside. You shriveled up in embarrassment when you saw a man kneeling at the front of the chapel. You dared a step closer and winced, he was kneeling in front of a coffin. 

God, you guys looked like such assholes. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, grabbing Owen by the collar of his shirt and yanking him back outside. You shoved him down the steps and he stumbled, glaring at you. 

“Y/N, what the hell?”

“It was a funeral service you jackass!” You hissed back at him, unwilling to raise your voice and further disrupt those poor people’s mourning. You were halfway across the street when you heard the door behind you open. 

You tensed up, mentally preparing yourself to face whoever had decided to scold you both. “Can I help you folks?” You turned at the sound of a smooth southern accent and felt heat rise to your cheeks. Well, more heat, you were about as hot as you could get right now. 

But the man in front of you seemed perfectly comfortable in his all black suit, glaring down at you both from the top of the stairs. You were a little ashamed how attracted to him you were. He was mourning, attending the funeral of someone who was probably close to him and you were drooling over how good he looked in a suit. 

To be fair, he did look very nice in a suit. 

“I am so sorry, sir, I tried to stop him.”

Owen nudged you slightly, “Shut up, Y/N.” You glared at him but he just crossed his arms and looked down his nose at the man in front of you. “We’re looking for Bo. You seen him?”

The man’s voice was full of anger as he sneered at Owen, “You’re talkin’ to him.”

Owen glanced back at you, a mean look on his face. “Her car broke down, can you fix it?”

Bo scoffed, staring down at Owen with a disgusted expression. You knew what he was thinking, how demanding and dickish Owen was. Especially when he knew what Bo had been doing only moments before. You intervened before Owen could dig a deeper hole. 

“Don’t worry about it, sir. I’m really sorry we interrupted you.”

“Y/N-”

“Shut up before I make you,” you leveled Owen with a glare. You let the group get away with a lot, talking shit to you and about you constantly. You didn’t really care enough to stop them, but you weren’t about to let him continue to disrespect the only person who could actually help you out of this hellhole. 

Owen seemed to get the message and scoffed, walking off with an attitude. Though, he didn’t have anywhere to go considering pretty much every business was closed. So he stood in the street, kicking at gravel like a toddler. You rolled your eyes and turned back to Bo, a little surprised to find him already staring down at you. 

You couldn’t decipher the look he was giving you, but it didn’t make you feel very comfortable. Though, that could just be the anxiety from your rude companion. “Sorry, again.”

You turned around, ready to walk back to the others, when he stopped you. “I’ll help you!” 

You glanced back at him, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Really?”

He nodded, “Give me a little while to finish up here and I’ll meet you at the shop.”

You nodded, a smile slowly rising on your lips. Maybe this day wasn’t completely lost. “Of course, take your time, thank you so much, seriously.”

He nodded, still looking unimpressed. “Uh-huh. Uh, you could check out the House of Wax, might make the time pass quicker.”

You nodded again but he didn’t bother waiting for a response, already heading back inside the church. He left just in time for the rest of the group to come walking up the street. Owen ran towards them, leaving you behind. You noticed a clear lack of Gwen or Damien and figured they’d stayed behind with the cars or something. 

You caught up with them just as Owen finished filling them in on what was going on. “So we have to wait?” Sarah whined, practically stomping her feet. 

“Yes, because he’s currently burying someone,” you deadpanned. You glanced towards the building towering over the town on top of a hill. “But we can always check out the House of Wax.”

”Yippee,” Allison mumbled sarcastically. 

You broke off quickly from the rest of the group, immediately embarrassed by how they behaved in the museum. Owen had started off strong, catcalling one of the wax women and groping her. You wandered towards the back of the building, a figure of a dog catching your attention. You hadn’t seen any other animals in here. 

Wow, its fur looked so realistic. 

You knelt down, getting closer, and shot back in fear as it barked at you. You let out a loud yelp as you landed on your ass, watching the very real dog growl at you. 

“Holy shit, did not think you were real.” You held up your hands in surrender, “Good girl, it’s okay.” After a minute she stopped growling and slowly moved towards you. You smiled as you pet her, running your fingers through her fur and laughing when she licked your hands. ”Aren’t you sweet?”

You heard a creak in the doorway behind her and your head shot up. A man loomed over you, a wax mask over his face and long black locks hanging over his shoulders. “Hi,” you whispered, completely thrown off by his appearance. 

“Do you work here?”

Nothing. 

He had to, if the mask was anything to go by, maybe it was like some outfit they made the employees wear. You glanced down at his hands, you could see wax covering them and sculpting tools in the belt slung around his hip. “Oh, are you an artist?” You asked, tone a little more excited. 

He tilted his head, and you felt your heart speed up when he stepped closer. The dog left you, walking over to him with her tail wagging and tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. He reached down, not breaking his stare with you, and pet her lightly. 

You got to your feet, trying not to show how uncomfortable he was making you. Finally, he nodded. 

“Well,” you stuttered slightly over your words, tongue tied with anxiety. “They’re all amazing. I accidentally bumped into one and apologized because I thought it was real,” your words trailed off with an awkward chuckle. “I even thought your dog was real, she scared me half to death when she moved.”

God, kill me now, this had to be the most awkward one sided interaction you’ve ever had with someone. “D-,” you cleared your throat, trying to get your voice to stop cracking. “Did you do this?” You pointed to the scene behind you, a family eating dinner at a dusty wooden table.

He shook his head, slowly lumbering past you and lifting the woman’s hair. You took a hesitant step forward and peered at the back of her neck where he was pointing. 

TS was carved into the wax. “TS?” Your eyes narrowed before it finally clicked in your head. “Trudy Sinclair?” He nodded and you smiled. “Oh, yeah, I saw an article about her up front. She’s the woman that runs the museum, right?” Another nod. Maybe he was mute. Maybe he wasn’t some freaky serial killer that was about to use that scalpel in his belt to slit your throat. 

Please just be extremely socially awkward. 

“Whole place is wax,” you dumbly pointed out, because clearly he knew that. “Pretty impressive.” He straightened up, moving the woman’s hair back in place and carefully brushing it out with his fingers. The care in which he treated the mannequin was a little off putting, he was acting like she was living and breathing, something to be coddled. “Um,” you stopped staring at his hands, focusing once again on his waxed face. “What’s your name?”

He took a step forward, then another and another until he was standing right in front of you, sharing the air you breathed. You couldn’t help but gulp, feet glued to the floor as the dark holes in his mask burned into you. In your peripheral you watched as his arm stretched out and winced slightly, prepared for a hit or stab or something. 

But it just hovered in the air, after a moment you realized he was pointing at something. You turned around and found a signature scrawled into another wax figure. 

Vincent

“Vincent,” you let out a sigh of relief and held out a hand, giving him your own name. After a moment he took your hand, grip tight to the point that it hurt. But he didn’t shake it like you’d expected, instead he moved his hand up your arm, digging his fingers into your forearm and dragging you back to the front door. You whimpered when he opened the door and threw you outside. 

You clutched your forearm to your chest, rubbing the forming bruises as the door slammed in your face. “Well, fuck you too then,” you muttered under your breath. You turned around glancing down the street and seeing Allison and Owen already walking towards the auto shop. You bound down the steps and run after them, panting when you finally catch up. 

“Where’s Sarah and Dean?”

Allison snorted, “Said they found a bed upstairs.” She glanced at you, “I think you can put two and two together.”

Your nose wrinkled and you groaned, “That’s disgusting. The guy that runs the place is literally in there.”

“Don’t be a prude,” Owen admonished. “They’re just screwing around.”

You glanced back at the House of Wax, seeing a figure moving in the window of the upper floor and shook your head. Jackasses. 

Bo was waiting for you all at the door of the auto shop. He was still in his black suit, except this time he had an easygoing grin on his face. A complete 180 from the man who looked ready to rip Owen’s dick off for interrupting a funeral. 

He gave you a particularly large smile as you approached, holding the door open for you as you entered the shop. You didn’t get the relief you were hoping for, the air in here almost as stifling as it was outside. It was maybe two degrees cooler. Whatever, you’d take what you could get on such a shitty day. 

“You know what the problem is with your car, sweetheart?” 

It took an awkward moment of silence to realize he was talking to you. When you looked up from the floor you saw his gaze drilling into yours, not missing the way his eyes flitted down to your low cut top and then back up. You couldn’t really blame him, you’d been eyeing him since he introduced himself. 

“Um,” you glanced towards Owen. “What did Dean say it was?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, an unsure look on his face. “Something about a hose.”

Bo nodded, sucking on his teeth before he went to the back of his shop. You rocked back and forth on your heels, ignoring the other two who were wandering around his shop and whispering to themselves. “Hey, honey, you mind comin’ back here a minute?”

You peered around the doorway and saw Bo bent over rummaging around in some boxes. “Me?”

He looked over his shoulder and chuckled, “Who else?”

You were about to step forward when you heard Allison hiss your name. You turned around and she pulled her top down mouthing ‘maybe he’ll give you a discount,’ pointing to your own shirt and laughing. You crossed your arms reflexively, covering your breasts from her view and tugging your shirt higher up to be petty. She rolled her eyes, clearly called you a prude, and turned back around. 

You really needed new friends. 

You walked into the back of Bo’s shop, taking in the different tools and boxes along the walls. “What’s up?”

“Any of these look right?”

You glanced down at the hoses he had laid out, the blood draining from your face when you realized you did not know anything about your car. You really hadn’t even known a hose was a thing until today. “Um, I’m not sure.”

“Well,” he started, losing some patience as his tone took a curt edge. Your stomach toiled with anxiety, not liking the idea of him getting pissed at you. “You know what size ya need?” 

You cleared your throat, “Owen!” You called out the door, you heard a grumbled what in response. “You know what size I need?”

“Two and a half!”

You missed Bo sliding a hose under his work table as you turned back around, scanning the tags and frowning when you saw he didn’t have the right size. “There’s a two, would that work?” You asked, picking the hose up and holding it out to him. 

His tongue poked into his cheek and he shook his head, “‘Fraid not, sweetheart.”

“Shit,” you placed the hose back down and rubbed your face, wincing as you remembered you were still covered in innards. “Ugh, gross,” you pulled your hands away from your face and could already feel streaks of blood on your cheeks. 

Bo chuckled and reached for a clean rag off his work table. He gave you a charming smile and wiped the blood off your face. You tried not to let yourself be too affected by how close he was, but it was hard, really, really, hard. So, as you always do in situations you don’t know how to handle, you blabber. 

“House of Wax was really cool,” you mumble.

“Hm,” he hums, not interested at all as his gaze darts down to your lips. 

“Yeah, the guy, Vincent, I don’t think he liked me very much,” you let out a barely audible laugh, remembering his harsh treatment as he tossed you out. 

Bo froze, his eyelids dropping slightly as the tender look on his face melted away, replaced by something you didn’t understand. Or didn’t want to understand. The hair on the back of your neck was standing up as goosebumps traveled along your arms. You weren’t cold, not in the slightest, this felt like something else. Like an instinctual response to a predator. 

You backed away a step, no longer feeling comfortable being so close to him. “What’d you say?” His voice was low, so low you could almost mistake it for a growl. 

“Um,” you swallowed harshly, throat parched and lips completely dried by the humidity. “Vincent,” you didn’t like how small your voice was. Didn’t like how quickly the atmosphere had shifted from something charged to something dangerous. “He- he showed me some wax sculptures and then he tossed me out.”

“You saw Vincent?” You nodded, backing a step further when he approached you. He noticed and let out a low laugh, the grin returning, but there were entirely too many teeth. “You say anything? ‘Bout his mask? How quiet he was?” He probed, his tone almost teasing like he wanted you to say Yeah, called him a freak and laughed at him. Like he wanted to use your response as an excuse for something. 

You shook your head quickly, “No. No, of course not,” you were quick to defend yourself, trying to sound as sincere as possible. You didn’t want him to think you were as rude as your traveling companions. “I thought maybe all the museum workers had to wear those. Like a theme or something. And,” you stumbled slightly over your words as he moved towards you again. You stepped back towards the doorway, trying to get back in the view of the others. “And I can be pretty quiet myself, I didn’t think it would be kind to pry.”

He finally stopped, but it wasn’t enough to calm you down. You still could feel your heart pounding against your chest, going so fast you felt a little dizzy. You weren’t an idiot, you knew how risky it was approaching so many strange men in one day. But you had been trapped, like a mouse dropped in a maze, constantly searching for a way out. 

You’d had no choice but to accept help from all the people you’d interacted with in this town, but you didn’t forget how much danger they could pose to you and your friends. You were all too aware of how stupid it was to be in a room with this stranger. 

This stranger who switched between masks so fast you got whiplash. Just as quickly as it had disappeared, his smile was back, still just as handsome, but no longer disarming. He shrugged, “Vincent doesn’t show himself to anyone, really. Just a little curious, that’s all. And that mask is all him, sweetheart.”

“Right,” you forced a smile, moving out of the way so he could walk back into the main part of the shop. 

He clapped his hands together, getting the attention of the others. “Sorry folks but I don’t got the parts you need here.”

Allison and Owen both let out loud groans, their voices blending together in anger as they harassed Bo for not having the one car part they needed. You winced as they yelled at him, demanding to know how he even called himself a mechanic if he didn’t have one simple part. You could see Bo’s patience leaving him again, jaw clenching and teeth grinding together. 

“Shut up!” You shouted, glaring at them from behind Bo. “Jesus, act your fucking ages,” you muttered, storming past Bo and going to stand near them. You didn’t bother looking at any of them, despite the stares you could feel boring into you. 

“Thank you,” Bo mumbled before his voice rose again. “As I was sayin’ I got some parts up at my house. Only about a ten minute walk, you could use the bathroom, clean up, I’ll see if I have what you need.”

Allison and Owen shared a look before turning towards you, the both of them huddling around you. “I don’t want to go anywhere near that freak’s house. He’s probably got some redneck sex dungeon.”

“Allison,” you admonished, looking over her shoulder to make sure Bo hadn’t heard. He seemed preoccupied with something under his desk. “Shut up, he’s being nice and putting up with our shit. I mean, he just buried someone guys, and he’s still trying to help. Least you could do is be respectful.”

Allison huffed and sighed and rolled her eyes before finally nodding, “Fine. But I’m using you as a human shield if shit goes south.”

“Fine by me,” you muttered, pushing away from them both and smiling at Bo. “If you don’t mind, we’d love to go.”

He nodded, smiling at you before walking to the door. He opened it but he didn’t leave until he threw over his shoulder, “Don’t worry, if I was taking anyone to my dungeon it’d be this one.” You squeaked as he pinched your waist and walked out. 

Allison scoffed, like she was offended, and followed after him. 

“So,” Bo started, slowing down so you could catch up to him. You sped up slightly, matching his stride and giving him a small smile as he stared at you. “What’re you doin’ with these jackasses?”

You couldn’t stop a snort from slipping out at his blunt language. You glanced behind you, watching Allison and Owen bicker about something and turned back towards him, shrugging. “I don’t know, they needed my car and I wanted to get out of the house, I guess.”

“Well, how long you been friends?”

“Not long, I met Allison a year ago and I guess I just started hanging around them.”

“You don’t seem to get along real well.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, a fact in his eyes that you didn’t belong with them. And he was probably right, you hated them, they hated you. 

“Only reason I’ve stuck around this long is ‘cause I don’t have anyone else.”

You didn’t notice how he perked up, how quickly he tuned into the loneliness in your words and pounced. You should have, for someone so perceptive and paranoid, but you were too busy grimacing at a chunk of dead something in your shorts pocket. 

“No one? No family? No other friends? No one to notice-” He cut himself off, once again sending you a smile, though this one seemed more sympathetic than anything. Like he knew your pain and could relate to it. 

“Yeah, no one.”

“Hm,” he offered nothing else. Just another hum and a nod as you approached the house at the top of the incline. He walked up to the front door, unlocking it, and turning around to survey you all. “Anyone need the can?”

Owen stepped forward, Allison clinging to his arm with a paranoid look on her face, eyes darting all around the perimeter of the house. Bo glanced behind them at you, “Sweetheart?”

“No, I’m good, thanks.” He might be charming but there was no way in hell you were just gonna wander in blind to his house. 

“You sure? I could give you a change of clothes.”

Before you could figure out a polite way to decline again, Allison had grabbed onto the strap of your tank top and was dragging you up the porch. “Please, fuck, I can’t stand the smell anymore.”

You ripped your arm out of her grasp, jumping as the door slammed closed behind you. For a moment the house stayed dark, no light and no noise other than the sound of your breathing. Then you heard a click and light shone down on a cluttered living room and outdated kitchen. 

“Sorry, haven’t had time for the maid,” Bo muttered sarcastically. He turned towards you, motioning you forward and, reluctantly, you followed. “Bathroom’s down the hall to the left.” Owen nodded, heading down the hallway while Allison stayed planted by the door. 

“I’ll show you my room and you can get changed.”

”Thanks,” you followed him wearily up the stairs, jumping every time the old wood creaked. “I really appreciate this, I know we’ve bugged you a lot today.”

”Yeah, you have.” You frowned, taken aback by how honest he sounded. In your defense, he had offered up his house to you guys. He turned around and must’ve seen the disgruntled look on your face because another grin broke out and he laughed, “I’m messin’ with ya. Relax, it’s no trouble at all for such a pretty lady.”

He opened up the door at the top of the stairs and stepped inside. You heard him moving around, drawers opening and slamming shut before he emerged again a pile of unfolded clothes in his hand. “Here, you can use the room to change.”

You nodded and stepped inside, quick to lock the door behind you. You waited until you heard his footsteps going back down the stairs to strip out of your clothes and change. You moved as quickly as you possibly could, a little paranoid that he had cameras in his room or something, watching you. 

You weren’t sure what had changed. Maybe it was Allison’s insistence that he actually had a sex dungeon, or that you were in a stranger’s room, but you felt scared. You felt watched and uncomfortable and like you wanted to get the hell out of here as quickly as possible, put Ambrose in your rear view and never look back. 

You held up the shirt Bo had left you and frowned. It was big, much bigger than he was. This didn’t seem like something he would own, the fitting all wrong, this seemed like something that belonged somewhere else. To someone else. 

You stared at it a moment longer before shaking the thought away and pulling the button up over your arms. As you worked on the last button you realized he hadn’t left you with any pants. Hopefully just a simple oversight on his part. It went down to your thighs, so it’s not like you were completely exposed. You’d just pretend you were wearing a dress. 

Your eyes scanned the room, you would go through his drawers and look for some pants but it didn’t feel right to dig around in his stuff. The room itself was a clusterfuck of boxes of clothes and sprawled sheets. You jumped around a box full of men’s clothing and frowned at the labels on the box. Each box had different sizes and different dates. 

Your heart beat just a little bit faster when you spotted women’s clothes shoved under his bed.

There could be plenty of explanations. 

He swung every which way and this was all clothing from his conquests. 

He liked to dabble in drag. 

He was collecting clothes for the homeless. 

You went with the last one, despite the fact that it didn’t make you feel any better. You walked into his bathroom, smiling when you saw a hair clip on the sink. You picked it up, hoping it wasn’t someone’s favorite and that they wouldn’t mind you borrowing it for a bit. 

Just as you were about to clip up your hair you noticed a smudge of red on the corner. The claw itself was completely white, the red was pretty hard to miss. You frowned, bringing it closer to your face and running your fingers over the color. 

It flaked off under your thumb, the copper falling into the sink. 

There were only so many things you could ignore. 

A blood covered claw was not one of them. 

You rinsed it off in the sink, shoving your hair up and running towards the bedroom door. You didn’t bother collecting your clothes, there was no saving them and you had bigger things to fuss about. Mainly the fact that Allison was right. 

This dude definitely had a fucking sex dungeon. 

You forced yourself to slow down when you reached the top of the stairs. You peered over the railing, listening for any noises or creeping shadows. It was almost worse when you didn’t hear anything. Allison should be at the door, bitching about how long it takes Owen to pee. Bo should be walking around somewhere. 

Instead, the house was still, you barely even heard your own breath over your racing heart. You were careful as you made your way down the stairs, avoiding the boards you know creaked and lightly making your way towards the front door. 

“Allison?” You whispered, looking around the den or kitchen for her. 

Nothing.

You hesitated, wondering if you should look for her or make a run for it. You heard footsteps getting closer to the door and made your choice, grabbing the keys off the tray nearby and racing through the doorway. 

“Y/N?”

You turned around as you reached Bo’s red truck, looking just in time to see a knife split through Allison’s jaw. You couldn’t even scream, the noise locked away in the deepest part of yourself as you struggled to process what was happening. 

The blade stuck out grotesquely between her teeth, her eyes remained blinking, that was the worst part. They blinked, tears pouring down her cheek before the man behind her was shoving her forward and her body was toppling to the ground limply. You jumped at the thud, eyes wide and burning with your own tears as you looked into the dark holes of Vincent’s mask. 

“Vincent?” You whispered, the only thing you could actually manage to get out. His head tilted and he stepped over Allison’s body like she wasn’t even there. Your hands shook, the keys slipping out and landing in the dirt under your shoes. He was about ten feet away before your flight instincts finally kicked in 

“Fuck,” you whispered, abandoning the truck and taking off just as the knife he’d thrown landed in the dirt where you’d been standing only a second earlier. 

You used to run, it had been an easy form of therapy. A way to get out unresolved and pent up emotions that left you feeling stunted. You’d loved it, reveled in the burn in your thighs, the buzz that thrummed through your blood as you pushed yourself to your limits and then further. 

But you’d stopped, got caught up in a group of shitty friends and stopped taking care of yourself. Now, the once thrilling buzz was slowing you down. The muscles in your thighs unprepared and unused as you forced them to go faster. You felt like you were trying to run in a dream, your muscles working as hard as possible but you were stuck in a limbo, never moving fast enough. 

You could hear heavy boots pounding behind you and you tried to push through that limit that you felt locked around your legs. But you couldn’t, you couldn’t move faster and you already felt yourself slowing down. Your lungs heaving as your throat burned, struggling to take in any air. 

“AH!” You let out a strange sounding scream as something heavy and hard rammed into your back. It sent you flying, knees scraping against pavement as you were pancaked to the road. 

“There ya are, darlin’! You don’t know how bad my feelings were hurt when I saw you’d run off.” You whimpered as Bo pinned your arms behind your back, his knees digging into your spine until you both heard it crack and you cried out in pain. 

“Bo, please,” you begged. “Please.”

He chuckled, leaning down until his mouth was next to your ear. “Please, what, darlin?”

”Please fuck off,” you growled throwing your head back and listening to Bo’s nose snap. You used the distraction to wrestle your way out from under him, rolling onto him, legs straddling his waist as you grabbed a nearby rock and brought it down.

His hand shot up and gripped your wrist, squeezing until you couldn’t feel your fingers and were forced to let go of the rock. “Fuckin’ bitch.”

You slapped at him as he tried to sit up and pin you down. You didn’t care how rabid or unorganized you were. You clawed, screamed and kicked until you’d gained the upper hand and were jumping away from him. “Fuck you,” you hissed, glaring at him as you clutched at your hurt wrist. 

His nose was no longer pouring blood, instead it was a slow steady drip as he glared at you with what could only be described as an animalistic snarl. “Bitch,” he spat back. 

“That the best you got?” You taunted, “You’re the backwoods freak who's killing off college kids. Lemme guess, Vincent’s your brother, he wears that mask because mommy and daddy were actually Uncle-Dad and Aunt-mom? Your weird little incest freak didn’t want to let mommy’s dream die? I bet one of you fuckin’ killed her, too.”

”Shut the fuck up!” He shouted, lunging for you. You darted off to the side, leaping over a wooden picket fence and through the yards of the silent neighborhood. The sky was turning pink, your favorite time of day, right before night finally fell. 

But you didn’t have time to enjoy it, crying as you ran away from the feral man behind you. You could hear him breathing, stomping his way behind you, it was like being chased by a wild animal, not a man. Maybe that’s what was terrifying you so bad, humans were predictable. You knew what type of torture to expect from them, the cruelties they were capable of. But a man like this, a beast like this, you had no idea what he would do to you. 

Tear you apart right here in the street?

Take you back to his home and keep you until better prey came along?

You didn’t want to find out. And you didn’t want him to have the satisfaction of your death. 

You had been screaming as he attacked you, shouting as you ran from him. Not once did a light click on or off as you ran through the neighborhood. No curtains drew back or faces pressed against the window pane in curiosity. 

You knew you were alone, the rest of your friends were most likely dead. 

You gasped, losing your breath, as you slammed into something hard. “Y/N? What the fuck?” You whined in pain, looking up to see Owen standing over you. He kneeled down, like he was going to help you up, until you heard the sound of laughter behind you. 

“Got you,” Bo taunted. And you knew he was talking about you, he didn’t give a shit about Owen, he just wanted you. 

“Owen, please,” you whispered, begging him to, just this once, help you. Be a decent guy, make the right choice. You should have known better. Just as you’d gotten to your feet, two strong hands had gripped your shoulders and sent you flying. 

A different set of hands found their way around your waist, coiling around you like a python until their grip was so tight your face was turning purple from loss of air. “Told you, jackasses,” Bo whispered, the last thing you heard before you were blacking out. 

Nine Inch Nails. 

That’s what you could process when you woke up.

The next thing you felt as your eyelids slowly peeled open, a near painful process, was the jostling around your legs. You whined, your throat completely raw and glanced down. Bo was standing at the end of some sort of chair, similar to a gurney, and duct taping your legs down. He glanced up, hair plastered with sweat and grinned at you. He had changed, you hadn’t noticed before but he’d ditched the suit for his coveralls. 

You let out a sigh, rolling your eyes and glancing towards the ceiling as you blinked back tears. 

You were going to die and the last thing you were going to hear was the blasting of Closer by Nine Inch Nails. 

Fuck my life

Bo moved up, holding your wrists down on the metal armrests and duct taping those too. You looked to the side, and saw strange circular markings on his wrist. You assumed, whenever they disposed of your body and took the tape off, you would have matching scars. 

You heard footsteps clomping above you and the sound of Damien and Gwen’s voices. “Where did they all go?”

“I don’t know, maybe they’re in the auto shop.”

Gwen sounded unsure, “Maybe, it is the only place that’s open.”

Bo ran behind you, his warm hand clamping over your mouth and keeping it shut as they passed the grate above you. You hadn’t even tried to open your mouth to scream for help, you knew you couldn’t, your throat was destroyed already. 

“I’m gonna take my hand off and you’re gonna be quiet. Yeah?” You nodded your head, feeling the salty warmth of your tears trailing down his hand and building up on your cheeks. “Yeah,” he whispered, the tone too intimate as he slowly released you. 

He remained beside you, poised and ready to strike but you didn’t make a move to call out. “Good girl,” he chuckled and placed a hand over yours. “I’m gonna go up, deal with those assholes, and you’re gonna behave. Right?”

You nodded again and he dug blunt fingernails into tender skin. You whimpered out, “Yes, Bo.”

He laughed again and walked towards the door, keys clinking as he locked it behind himself. “Fucking sicko,” you spat the second the door was closed. You moved your legs, wincing as the tape picked at your bare skin. 

“Oh, fuck it,” you were sweaty enough, the moisture on your skin providing enough glide for you to wiggle one leg out of the tape. Arrogant bastard had given you too much freedom, he probably didn’t even think you were going to run. 

Now, your wrists. 

Your arms were sweaty, sure, but these were tight. You tried to use a jerking motion you’d once seen in a stupid action movie, bringing your wrists to your chest. But your muscles were fatigued and you didn’t have enough strength to rip the tape off. 

You flopped against the flattened cushion of the chair, trying not to sob incoherently as Bo’s rock music blared in the garage above. You could hear voices speaking. You didn't know how much time you had left until Bo just got rid of them and came back down for you. 

You’d been pointedly ignoring the wall of Polaroids since you’d woken up, not wanting to see what they were. Afraid you already knew. 

You ignored the unnatural bend of your shoulder, how much it screamed out in pain as you contorted your body over your right wrist, teeth picking at the duct tape until you felt like they were coming loose. But you didn’t stop, you kept going until you felt the slightest tear under your lips. 

You had to stop yourself from crying out in victory as you used whatever remained of your strength to jerk at the tape again and again, your muscles crying as you finally ripped yourself free. You stuffed down your cries, using your free hand to unwrap the other. 

You allowed yourself a moment to roll out your wrists and shake off your legs before you were shooting off the gurney and stumbling towards a corner of the room. Your legs felt like jelly, and you knew that wasn’t good, but you pushed past the fear as footsteps stomped down the stairs. 

Your heart rate picked up and your throat clenched as you pushed sweat-matted hair out of your face. You took in a deep breath and then held it as the door slammed open. You winced, grateful you hadn’t chosen to hide behind that. Bo stepped into the room, there was a blind spot of about five seconds before he would see you were out of your chair. 

You needed to use that to slip behind him and out the door. 

You heard one boot enter. Then the next. 

You could hear your blood rushing in your ears, adrenaline making your muscles tingle back to life. 

Another step, you inched forward, another, you slid against the wall. Bo finally made it all the way in. “What the fuck!”

You shot behind him, racing up the steps and bursting through the door of the garage. You didn’t give yourself time to celebrate or look to see if he was following you. You darted down the street, suddenly grateful Bo had only given you a shirt to wear. 

You were sure it was for his own pleasure, but right now all it meant was that your legs weren’t constricted by tight denim and you could run as fast as your body would allow. You turned to the right, bursting through the doors of the chapel. 

You froze at the entrance, taking in a deep heaving breath as you tried to find a hiding spot. The pews were too noticeable, the casket probably wouldn’t fit you. You nearly cried as you tried to figure it out. 

Outside you heard Bo stomping, his voice calling out your name. Fuck it, you dove for the priest, using his large robes and throwing yourself under them. You had just managed to clamp a sweaty palm over your mouth as the doors of the church opened, deceptively quiet. 

Bo’s footsteps were soft as he walked through. You feel dizzy sitting under this preserved priest, the air stifling and you felt like you were running out of oxygen. Sweat beaded at your hairline, dripping down into your eyes as you tried to blink it away. 

You jumped, nails digging into your palm, at the sound of wood crashing against the wall. “Get out here!” He roared, and you knew he was slowly making his way through the pews. He tossed each of them around, checking under and around them for you. 

You ducked down, lifting the robe a centimeter off the floor. If you closed your eyes, put your hand over your ears, you were a little girl again, hiding under the table as your mother counted down. She’d find you soon, you’d giggle and she’d pretend she didn’t hear it before popping under the table cloth and catching you. 

Her fingers digging into your sides, searching for that ticklish spot. No, she’s poking too hard, that hurts. 

Shit, that hurts. 

You kick out, your shoe catching Bo’s jaw as you make a run for it, darting out from the priest and back through the chapel doors. The only thing you can focus on are the bright lights, blinding against the night sky- when did it get dark?

You stumbled over your feet, legs not moving the way you wanted them to. Shit, you don’t feel good. Did he drug you? Is it the heat? You haven’t eaten all day, or drank anything. Maybe it was finally catching up to you. 

Through blurry eyes you ran towards the movie theater, the brightest beacon you can actually make out. You trip through the doors, slamming them closed behind you. You spot one of those metal poles, the old one with red cloth they used to keep people in line. With limp arms and struggling steps you lift it up and slam it through the handles, just as Bo starts to shake them on the other side. 

You back away from them slowly, eyes scanning the lobby for anything you could use. Behind the concession desk you manage to spot something. 

BREAK IN CASE OF EMERGENCY

You’d say this constituted an emergency. You kicked through the glass, ignoring how it dragged along your legs, and pulled the ax out of its case. There had to be a back door out of here. 

Your eyes widened and you cursed, there had to be a back way out of here, and Bo would know it. You threw the ax on the ground, ripping the pole out of the handles before scooping the ax back up and running back into the dark.

Apparently you’d made the right choice because Bo was no longer where you left him. He was probably sneaking through some secret exit waiting to grab you. You looked towards the end of the street, up the hill, and back at Bo’s front door.

There was still light shining through, but you were sure Allison’s body was long gone. You glanced behind you before taking in a deep centering breath and shooting off again. 

You held your breath, hiding underneath the table as Bo came stumbling into his home. You could see him clutching a wound on his arm and Vincent materialized behind him. He reached for his brother but Bo jerked back, “Get, get, back!” He spoke like he was talking to some dog, “Fuckin’ freak.”

You winced as you watched them interact, Bo tossing shit at his brother and his brother ducking like he was used to it. Vincent walked over to a candle, heating a spoon over the flame and picking up a toaster. He used the metallic reflection to smooth over a dent in his mask and Bo came up, appearing on his shoulder like the worst kind of devil. 

“Momma would be proud of you.” Vincent’s movements paused at his suddenly tender brother’s voice. “I told you this would look better. The last two are gonna look great,” he assured, kindly, and you grimace in disgust. Should’ve known this was his idea. Your knuckles creaked around the handle of the ax and you debated just ending this now. 

Vincent turns towards his brother, spoon discarded, and signs something. You know enough about the language to recognize the hand movements when you see it, but you can’t understand it from your angle. 

“What girl?” Bo snarled, Vincent winced and signed something else. Bo snorted, “Her? What you gotta crush or somethin’?” Vincent shook his head quickly and Bo rolled his eyes, voice cruel. “What, one girl’s nice to you and you wanna break our rules? She’s dead when I’m done with her. That’s it.” Bo buried his finger in Vincent’s shoulder, shoving harshly. “Understood?” Vincent didn’t respond immediately and Bo shoved again. “Understood!” He shouted and Vincent finally nodded. 

You watched them move out of sight, followed their shoes out of the house and finally slinked out of your hiding spot. You’d seen where Vincent had emerged from earlier and retraced the steps, finding a hidden basement in their father’s office. You glanced behind you once before jumping down into the hole.

“Damien? Gwen? Fucking anybody?” You kept glancing behind you, ax ready as you creeped your way through Vincent’s tunnels. Finally, you started to see the warm glow of candles at the very end of the section you were in. 

Caution thrown to the wind, you made a run for it and burst into what looked like Vincent’s workshop. You looked around, not seeing anything of interest besides one torture chair. You’d slit your throat before they got you in that. 

You found his desk, sketches scattered around the edges. You took a peek and were surprised to find a partially done profile of your face. You glanced around, making sure you were safe, before picking the sketch up. 

You looked pretty, even half done, he might have been a little to generous with you. Made you too elegant, noble, untouchable. Flattering if he wasn’t going to try and kill you. You saw something scrawled at the very bottom and your heart clenched, She was nice.

Perhaps you were too tender-hearted, to feel any pity for these monsters. But you’d seen the news articles in their father’s office, what had happened to their family, the chair Bo was once strapped in. What they were was their mother’s final project, the legacy she left behind, one of pain and hatred. Each of them hating themselves for different reasons because of her. 

But you weren’t an idiot, you saw the was in the title of your drawing. You might have been kind, but he wasn’t planning on letting you live. Something rattled in the room to your right and you threw the drawing down, turning towards the door and carefully opening it. 

“Y/N!” Owen cried out, relief making itself clear on his face as he saw you. “Get me out of here.” You rushed forward, kneeling down and trying to undo the straps around his ankles. But your fingers weren’t working properly, they felt like they were swelling and burning and useless. You whined in frustration as you tried to get the metal through the hole. 

“Fuck!” Owen kicked out as much as he could and you jumped back. “Can you do anything right? Just get me out of here!” He screeched. 

You went momentarily blind with rage, anger boiling in your gut so quickly you nearly keeled over. “I’m trying to help you, you fucking dick! You left me behind to that psycho earlier and I’m still trying to help you!” You screamed at him, not paying attention to the raw feeling of your throat or the footsteps behind you. “Why don’t you ever just shut up!”

You weren’t aware the ax was still in your hands, or maybe you were, as you brought your arms down in frustration. It landed in his thigh, barely missing the femoral artery, and he screamed. That type of scream you only hear from squealing pigs right before their butchered. 

You didn’t think you enjoyed it.

Didn't want to enjoy it. 

But you dug the blade in. 

He’d made your life a living hell, he’d tried to get you killed earlier, and even when you’d ignored it and tried to save him he still yelled at you. Granted, it wasn’t the worst thing he’s ever said to you, but it was the worst thing he could say at that moment. You pressed on the handle, not realizing you were smiling as he squealed some more. 

You got a headache after a second, struggling to rip the blade back out before you were lifting it once more and bringing it down over his neck, the blood splattering your face, bleeding into your open eyes as you watch his head topple to the ground. 

“Holy shit,” you turned around and looked at Bo, the fight draining from your body. “Didn’t think you had it in you.” He glanced at the ax in your hands and smiled, this one looked real, the realest he could manage. “Gonna kill me too?”

You shrugged, tossing the ax at his feet. “You gonna kill me?”

He looked at you, really looked at you, standing there covered in your ‘friend’s’ blood and unknowingly smiling at the carnage. “I don’t know,” he finally muttered. 

Part two

end. — I do not own the characters or the movie House of Wax (2005), but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[thesharktanksdriver]

Hey! So I wanted to ask something about determination! reader, have the characters of the movies meet Reader? Like for example Uta or Tesoro of film gold?

Anyways I lover You work and I hope to see the part of Roger! ✨

Hello!!! Sorry for getting to your ask so late, I’ve been really tired these past few days lol.

But as for your questions kinda?

I have to retcon y/n meeting Uta as a baby cause it doesn’t match up timeline wise. I assumed Shanks found her just before Roger died but I’m pretty sure I’m wrong about that lol.

But I do want to write a lil something for Uta, she’s a personal favourite of mine and she in my opinion doesn’t get enough attention.

I’d like to make something about y/n meeting her and somehow convincing her of how the wake-shroom is dangerous, maybe by eating it and dying lol. I might even make something later on with the straw hats meeting up with her in Elegia for a reunion for her and Luffy….plus a duet between her, Brook and y/n would be killer. I just want good things for her 😭

As for Tesoro if think something interesting could be that they both met while slaves, but I’m unsure if that timeline wise since y/n was a slave when boa and her sisters were for an undetermined amount of time until Boa was forced to kill them.

Really sad idea for that though is that in that time Tesoro tried his best to help and protect them before they were killed. Maybe they had even met because he could hear them quietly singing to try and comfort Boa and her sisters and it reminded him of Stella :[

That idea is really funny tho when it comes to one piece gold cause he has a panic attack realizing their

A) alive after he assumed they died cause he saw the girls they were with uncontrollably sobbing, now he thinks they had somehow escaped

B) with the straw hats he’s actively trying to kill

C) damn, he needs their skincare routine cause they look like they haven’t aged at all!

Even if this route isn’t the case, i cousl kinda see him doing his whole thing In gold of trying to capture and kill the straw hats but then sees they have this random kid with them that reminds a little too much of Stella and assumes the straw hats kidnapped them and is holding them as some sort of hostage.

Which in turns makes him even more pissed and determined (lol) to kill these damn pirates and save this kid.

If this was the case of scenario of their meeting, y/n opening up about their own time as well as a slave would be really interesting. Especially since in many regards he became like the world novels he hated, taking pleasure in others suffering as well as having insane amounts of wealth to live in luxury while also being hypocritical and hating other wealthy people who act exactly like him.

Tesoro wouldn’t get why y/n looks at him with a sad and also horrified look in their eyes.

Why they seem afraid of him when he had “saved” them.

Another potential movie character I can see as an interesting person for y/n to meet is Z.

Because for a much as Z hates pirates I don’t think he’d be willing to hurt a kid, not when his was killed. So he’s left in a weird impasse of wanting to kill the straw hats but also trying to keep y/n not involved even if he knows they’re also a pirate and their actively joining in on the fights.

Doesn’t help that the marines there to stop him reaallly want y/n too, so he kinda has to deal with Borsalino and making sure that the admiral nor y/n’s crew doesn’t get them.

I’d definitely imagine y/n would get in heated arguments with the dude, especially since they’re not letting someone mess with Roger’s legacy and cause they get his pain (somewhat at least).

They’ve been on the receiving end of cruelty from pirates.

But at the same time marines have done arguably much worse yet uphold the status of justice.

What is justice when they murder all infants on an island due to fear of Roger having a blood child.

What is justice when they wipe out an entire race of people and take their land to make Mary geoise.

What is justice when they make living weapons.

What is justice when marines can kill civilians with only so much as a small punishment by HQ.

What justice is there in tracking down escaped slaves and being lapdogs for celestial dragons.

At least pirates though some are equally terrible don’t proclaim themselves under the hypocrisy of “justice”. Don’t claim to be holy saints when they try and kill someone for the sin of their father being a pirate.

[anonymousewrites]

Adolescent Antichrist (Book 5) Chapter Eleven

Father Figure! Lucifer Morningstar x Teen! Reader

Demon! OC x Reader

Chapter Eleven: That was the Most Mature Advice You’ve Ever Given Me

Summary: Lucifer gets and, surprisingly, gives good relationship advice.

            “So you woke up with Chloe—congrats by the way—and now you can’t use your mojo?” said (Y/N), tilting their head.

            Poor Lucifer’s power had been “stolen” by Chloe after they finally, finally, worked things out and got into a proper relationship. Now, (Y/N) was very proud of Lucifer, but they also weren’t surprised that somehow things had already hit a roadblock since Celestials were apparently terrible about understanding when they were self-actualizing or whatever.

            Also, (Y/N) wanted to bang their head against a wall because everyone was getting into a successful relationship except for them since the world seemed determined to interfere with them and Em. Marcel and Leon? Easy. Noa and Olive? Took a bit to get going but happened. Chloe and Lucifer? So many problems but they were together.

            (Y/N) and Em? (Y/N) wasn’t sure, but maybe God was against them having a love life.

            Still, their own gay pining wasn’t going to stop them from helping out Lucifer where they could. They wanted their dad and Chloe to have a good relationship. They would be good for each other.

            “Yes. She can ask people what they desire, and I can’t,” sighed Lucifer. “It worked on me!”

            “I think that’s hilarious,” said (Y/N), grinning.

            “But…But what if I’ve become powerless?” said Lucifer. “Then I can’t help her, and I can’t protect you.”

            (Y/N)’s heart thumped at the kindness of their dad. “I’m not worried about that.” They smiled. “And if I’m honest, I think it’s just you deciding to be vulnerable around Chloe. You’re willing to share your true desires with her because you feel comfortable with her.”

            “…What about the other people she asked?” said Lucifer hesitantly.

            (Y/N) rolled their eyes. “It was one person, and one person might just be nervous or something,” they said. “I don’t think humans can steal Celestial power. This is just you getting nervous about being vulnerable.” They smiled. “Relax.”

            Lucifer took a deep breath. “Yes. Yes, you’re right.” He looked at (Y/N). “I’m sorry you always have to remind me of these things.”

            (Y/N) shrugged. “I don’t mind.” They shifted. “But, uh, I wouldn’t mind some advice.”

            “Advice?” asked Lucifer. “About what?”

            “Dating. Relationships,” said (Y/N).

            Lucifer froze. “…Has someone asked you out?”

            “Well, no, but I want to ask someone out,” said (Y/N). “And I don’t know how to do it.”

            “Are they even worthy of you?” said Lucifer instantly. “Do they treat you well? You’re Celestial, literally royalty, and I don’t want anyone who doesn’t treat you well going out with you!”

            (Y/N) rolled their eyes and turned bright red. “Dad! It’s not that serious!”

            “Your first relationship.” Lucifer began to pace. “I mean, I’m happy for you, but I can’t believe it! I’m not prepared at all. How are dads supposed to act about dating? Should I be against it? For it?”

            “How about you just support me and give me some helpful advice?” suggested (Y/N).

            “Who is it?” said Lucifer, eagerly turning towards them.

            “…Em,” said (Y/N).

            “Emeranne?” Lucifer blinked. The young demon was (Y/N)’s age, and they’d known each other for years now, but if he remembered correctly, they had started out not getting along. “When did—how—huh?”

            “I don’t know,” said (Y/N), shrugging. “It just kind of…happened. I became their friend, her best friend, and now I really like her. I want to ask them out.”

            “…Okay,” said Lucifer.

            He could approve of Em. He knew they would never hurt (Y/N). In fact, she was more loyal to (Y/N) than she was Lucifer, King of Hell. They would treat (Y/N) the way they deserved. Plus, they were also non-human, so she could understand that aspect of life, too.

            “You approve?” said (Y/N), surprised but pleased.

            “Emeranne is a good choice,” said Lucifer, nodding. He smiled. “And they will treat you how you deserved to be treated.”

            (Y/N) relaxed. They were glad Lucifer would support their relationship, if it ever happened. “Yeah. I know they will. And I want to treat them well.” They cleared their throat. “But, uh, I don’t know how to ask someone out.”

            “…I’m not great at it,” admitted Lucifer.

            “Yeah, but you and Chloe are dating,” pointed out (Y/N). “I just need a little help about how to not be…nervous about this.”

            Lucifer smiled and held (Y/N)’s shoulders. “(Y/N), you are a good person. You’re helpful and strong and kind. Anyone would be lucky to date you. Em knows who you are. You just need to be honest and trust in yourself.” He hugged them. “And if it doesn’t work out, there will be someone else.”

            (Y/N) let out a nervous laugh and hugged Lucifer back. “That was the most mature advice you’ve ever given me.”

            “Don’t talk to your father that way,” teased Lucifer.

            (Y/N) laughed, and Lucifer smiled at seeing their nerves abate.

            “And although you protect so many people, I’m here for you when you need it. Even if I am a mess,” said Lucifer softly.

            (Y/N) hugged him tightly. “I know, Dad. I know.” They could count on him. They were incredibly lucky and happy to have him. After so many years of being with biological parents that didn’t support who they were, (Y/N) had Lucifer. They had a good dad.

l

            “I got your text, Maze,” said Em, walking into the empty Lux. “What’s the matter…” She trailed off as she saw Maze holding a drink in her hand and wearing an old, demonic outfit. A demon blade rested on the counter. “Maze? What’s that doing out?”

            Maze huffed and downed her drink. “I wanted a fight.”

            Em raised their hands. “Yeah, I’m not interested.”

            Maze scoffed. “I know that. You don’t fight because (Y/N) would get mad at you.”

            “Well, they can kick my ass, so it’s a pretty good idea to listen to them,” said Em brightly.

            Maze rolled her eyes. “You’re soft.”

            “I’m not going to take that to heart because you don’t look like you’re doing well,” said Em, sitting down next to Maze. “What’s up?”

            “Amenadiel didn’t want to fight me, so now I’m more pissed than usual,” said Maze.

            Em gave Maze a look. “I know that you’re upset about something, and it has to be from before Amenadiel didn’t want to fight you. I mean, no one just tries to fight Celestials.”

            “He’s a good fight, and then he’s a good f—”

            “Don’t finish that sentence,” said Em, making a face. “You’re just avoiding the question.”

            Maze groaned and just poured herself another drink. “How do you do it?”

            “What?” said Em.

            “Act so…human,” said Maze. “Doing this ‘feelings’ thing.”

            “I’m not acting human,” said Em. “I’m just acting like myself.”

            Maze scoffed. “I don’t believe that. I mean, you act like you like being on Earth. We’re demons. We’re not made for that.”

            “I like being here, actually,” said Em.

            Maze froze. “You…You do?”

            “Yeah,” said Em. They looked at Maze. “Do you not?”

            “I don’t belong here,” said Maze. “I just don’t. I’m not like humans.”

            “Humans don’t actually care,” said Em.

            Scoffing, Maze glared at them. “Yes, they do. So then I just have to be alone.”

            “You have Linda. And Ella. And Chloe. And even Dan,” pointed out Em.

            “They don’t really like me,” said Maze.

            Em let out a loud laugh, and Maze looked at her in surprise.

            “Maze, you’re a personality,” said Em. “And I can assure you, if they didn’t actually like you, they wouldn’t hang out with you.”

            “…You really think so?” said Maze, dubious.

            “Yeah,” said Em. She smiled. “And I like you. So just…focus on that. Having fun with friends helps make Earth fun.” They chuckled. “If I had to guess, it’s probably the same for humans.”

            “I doubt you’re right, but I’m desperate, so I guess I’ll give it a try,” grumbled Maze.

            “Right,” said Em, rolling her eyes.

l

            “Hey, Em,” said (Y/N), walking into her room.

            “Oh, hey, Birdie,” said Em, taking off their headphones and letting them hang around her neck. “What’s up?”

            “I saved my dad and Chloe’s relationship,” said (Y/N), sitting down on Em’s bed.

            “Really?” laughed Em.

            “Yeah, just had to remind my dad that he self-actualizes again,” said (Y/N). They rolled their eyes fondly. “He’ll get it eventually.”

            “Especially if you keep drilling it into him,” teased Em. “You’re a tough one.”

            “Someone has to be,” said (Y/N), leaning back. “But anyways, what have you been up to?”

            “I talked to Maze,” said Em. “She just needed some advice on making friends on Earth.”

            “Celestials are bad at social cues and relationships, aren’t they?” said (Y/N), chuckling.

            “We’re not exactly ones to talk,” said Em wryly.

            “Maybe not, but at least I’m straightforward,” said (Y/N). “I handle myself and my situations.” They sat up and looked at Em. “Actually…that’s what I wanted to talk about.”

            Em froze, and nervousness raced through them. Was (Y/N) going to address the strangely intimate moments they’d been having? Fear clutched their heart. Were they going to tell Em they didn’t like it? Excitement pulsed through them. Or were they going to tell Em they liked them?

            Em swallowed and tried to compose herself. “Oh? What about?” They tried to seem nonchalant, but her voice cracked nervously.

            “Us,” said (Y/N), getting straight to the point. They squared their shoulders and looked at Em. “Listen, Em, I don’t know if I’ve been imagining it or if it’s just been the heat of the moment, but you and I…there’s been something going on. And I just want to be honest and say that I like it. I like you. A lot. Like, in the romantic sense.”

            Em stared at (Y/N) as their cheeks turned pink and her heartbeat raced. “You…you really like me?”

            (Y/N) nodded and smiled. “Yeah. I do. And I just want to be honest. You deserve to know how I feel.”

            Em reached out and took (Y/N)’s hand. “You deserve the same.” She grinned. “And Birdie, I really like you too.”

            (Y/N) felt a large smile spread across their face. “Would you want to go to prom with me, then? As a date?”

            “I would,” said Em, still grinning like an idiot. They moved closer and swallowed nervously. “Can I…Can I kiss you, Birdie?”

            Heat rushed to (Y/N)’s cheeks, but they giddily nodded. “Yeah. You can.”

            Em leaned in, and (Y/N) leaned in. Nervously, Em and (Y/N) kiss. They pulled back almost instantly afterwards, way too nervous since that was both of their first kisses.

            “Was that, uh, okay?” said Em.

            “Yeah,” said (Y/N), smiling shyly. “It was.”

            Em smiled back. “I’m glad.”

l

            (Y/N) felt light as a feather as they ran upstairs to tell Lucifer that they had confessed to Em and it had gone fantastically—they had a date to the prom they had a date with Em they had a date with Em holy shit!

            “Hey, Dad!” said (Y/N), rounding the corner. They slowed as they saw Chloe standing with Lucifer on the terrace. “Oh, uh, sorry to interrupt.”

            “Oh, no, it’s alright, (Y/N),” said Chloe, smiling. She understood as a coparent of Trixie that parents needed to prioritize their kids, so she wasn’t going to interrupt (Y/N) looking for Lucifer.

            “(Y/N), is everything alright?” asked Lucifer, instantly on the attack in case (Y/N) was in danger or needed help.

            “Oh, yeah,” said (Y/N) quickly. “I just wanted to let you that I took your advice, and it…it went well.” They smiled.

            Lucifer grinned. “I’m glad!” He hugged them. “I’m so proud of you.”

            “Something good happened?” said Chloe, smiling.

            “Uh, yeah, I managed to ask someone out,” said (Y/N), smiling nervously.

            Chloe smiled softly. “Emeranne, right?”

            (Y/N) froze. “Was it that obvious?”

            “Yes,” said Chloe, chuckling.

            “It wasn’t to me,” said Lucifer, blinking.

            “Well, you’re not the most observant,” said (Y/N), and Chloe laughed.

            “Oh, dear, I don’t like the two of you getting along,” said Lucifer, making a face.

            “Get used to it,” teased (Y/N). “If Chloe’s going to be around more, then we’re going to be teaming up more.”

            “That’s very unfair,” sighed Lucifer.

            “Someone has to help (Y/N) keep you in line,” laughed Chloe.

            The three chuckled and stood side-by-side, almost like a little family.

            Ding!

            The penthouse elevator doors opened, and they all turned to see Dan, looking very fragile, stepping out.

            “Dearie me,” said Lucifer, laughing. “Still suffering with a bout of the old trotskies, are we?” He took a friendly step towards Dan.

            Dan reached into his pocket and drew his gun. Chloe and (Y/N) froze, and (Y/N) tensed. The shadows around their feet swirled angrily.

            “I was only joking, Daniel,” said Lucifer, frowning.

            “Dad…” said (Y/N) worriedly. “Please step back.”

            “Dan? What are you doing?” said Chloe, staring in fear at the gun.

            Dan swallowed and tried not to look at her or (Y/N) as he focused on Lucifer.

            Bang!

            “No!”

Taglist:

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@grippleback-galaxy-galaxy

@scarlettqueen190

@ziro-the-null-god

@sammy-13

@zeros-rot

@ceridwyn3

@technikerin23

@poetoflawed

@slytherinroyalty16

@ilse235

@theurbannoodle

@lookitseddie

@amberforest08

[morethansky]

As promised, my thoughts on Tech's fate.

If you think they changed their minds about revealing Tech to be alive, you might not want to read this. I'm not trying to debate or dissuade anyone; this is just my personal take.

Also, please be forewarned that this is quite Hunter critical. I love to write the man, but god, he’s so bad for my blood pressure.

This is still such a hard thing for me to talk about. To be honest, I ducked out of the TBB fandom between the time when i finished “i keep what i can of you” and S3 started because it felt like I couldn’t say what I thought without either hurting the people who thought Tech was dead and were traumatized or inciting the wrath of those believed he was alive, some of whom got so haughty and/or oddly hostile whenever any other possibilities were stated in their vicinity. It seems that after I left, the opposite started happening too? The hellish fandom ouroboros.

Anyway, so here are my unfiltered thoughts, because I might explode if I don't write them down. After I watched “Plan 99,” I thought Tech was dead, and I was extremely traumatized and hysterical about it. I remember that night I couldn’t sleep, and I stayed up till morning trying to process the sense of betrayal I felt and figure out what to do with the sweet little WIP I had been working on, which was about Tech and Wrecker facing the concept of death for the first time. (I have now rewritten it to be much darker but for Tech to live, and as CX-2, so I hope that proves I mean well with this post.)

Because it’s me and it’s media, I was not only traumatized but also furious. To be frank, I’m not usually this deeply affected by character deaths. I have written a lot of major character death fics and grief/mourning is a component of like 60 percent of my writing. In fact, when character deaths are done well, I think they’re fantastic. The worthy, well-done ones can make the characters shine even more brightly.

That is not the case here. Tech dies for literally nothing. The protagonists don’t achieve anything at all from it besides returning to square one, less a member. They don’t find the coordinates to Tantiss. They don’t find anything about who Hemlock is or what the Advanced Science Division does. They don’t overhear any vital intel from the meeting with all the Imperial bigwigs. They don’t gain any insight from Saw. They don’t even find out whether Crosshair was actually in captivity and whether his saying Plan 88 was him laying a trap for them or not.

And that is some of the worst messaging I’ve ever seen in a Y-7 American action cartoon. And believe me, I’ve watched a lot of them.

Allow me to beat the dead horse one last time. Finally, after two entire seasons of the show, a member of the main cast is like, “Hey, remember how Crosshair used to be one of us? Even if he kind of sucks, shouldn’t we help him? He did just try to warn us.” And I was ECSTATIC. Didn’t expect the autistic character to be the one to be like, no, fuck you, we should do the right thing no matter the risk (autistic characters are so often morally gray and it’s so frustrating), but I loved it so much! That’s me!!

…And then he literally dies because he wanted to do the right thing. Hunter, the character who does not want to help people, who rejects the idea of going to Eriadu and has to be convinced otherwise, IS PROVEN CORRECT. What the ever-loving fuck is that messaging? That’s right, kids—if you selflessly try to help other people, you’ll be killed. So maybe don’t bother, actually. And this show just underlines that message over and over again! The only people who matter are those you consider family. Everyone else can rot. In fact, people who are willing to risk their lives to help people are foolish and idealistic. The things Hunter says to Echo are repeatedly so fucked up ("When will it be enough?" Dude wtf???), and it's nuts that the show doesn't offer Hunter's narrow-minded perspective as a contrast to Echo's determination to do the right thing—it offers Echo as a contrast to Hunter's motivations to retire (which we understand because when the two of them split up, we follow Hunter instead of Echo—and not even in addition to Echo! He only shows up again because he's visiting Hunter's story!).

That’s straight-up American conservative ideology. I will never not be pissed at them for making the fucking deuteragonist—and a clone character at that—like that. And in Star Wars! The franchise that is overwhelmingly and consistently about fighting fascists! Made by the company founded and based in the Bay Area, the most progressive region of the country!!!

To be frank, I almost turned the TV off right then. But I thought, okay…a horrible way to get to it, but…maybe now is the moment? Maybe now they’ll finally join Echo and Rex, and be super determined to find Tantiss and Crosshair and the many other clones whose designations were on the roster—to complete the mission that Tech so passionately insisted on before he sacrificed himself.

BUT NO! Hunter immediately pressures Omega into going to Pabu. And why wouldn’t he? The narrative proved him right! By trying to do the right thing, Tech died. So we’ll just go back to ignoring the suffering of countless beings across the galaxy, including our own kind. Millions of straight-up metaphorical versions of us. Cool.

And then Omega gets captured. So because Tech wants to do the right thing, he dies, and because Omega agrees with him, she gets taken away. And then suddenly Hunter puts away Pabu entirely and becomes super gung-ho about finding her. Which is just…why did they write him like this. Why did they even have the conversation about Pabu?? Leaving it out would have made Hunter's motivations flow so much better. Because by introducing that, they invite the crucial question: Why was that what it took for him to stop running but losing Crosshair and Tech didn’t??? Because he only cares about this one child's well-being and it's his single motivation as a character???

A contingent of Crosshair fans have seemed to vocally dislike Hunter from the start because he left Crosshair, and I’m like no, you don’t understand. It’s not about the character, it’s about the writing. In some cases, it does end up being the character rather than the writing, and you can usually tell because the writing condemns that in the character. Not here though! Hunter's decisions throughout the show are celebrated by it. And Hunter gets his way, as we see now with them retiring on Pabu and ignoring the fight even as "the Rebellion needs pilots now more than ever." Thank god the finale at least posited that Echo was also right, which is kind of like the bare minimum they could've done in that regard.

So Tech’s death hit me particularly hard because it felt like just a waste of two entire episodes, a waste of an enjoyable character they had just given some really poignant depth, and a waste of the chance to give Hunter the character development I was desperate for—and also like a betrayal, a slap in the face, because it was like the show was saying that heroes are stupid, that Tech was foolish for wanting to do the right thing. Which is nuts given the rest of the SW animated oeuvre. And is fucking hurtful. And bad for kids.

So when the theories about Tech’s survival started floating around that night, I thought, okay, yeah, maybe this was such a stupid death and waste of screen time because it’s to set up something really cool. I could get behind that, even if the entire setup would still be faulty and honestly kind of repulsive to me.

I engulfed everyone’s theories in those weeks I spent mourning, desperate to be convinced—but as much as I wanted to believe there was a plan at work, I just couldn’t buy it 100 percent because…would the people who wrote this awful arc, and who made all the oddest choices possible at any given time throughout both seasons thus far, really intend to set up and execute something so well thought out and complex?

Of course not. People kept being like, “We have to trust the writers. They have a grand plan. They wouldn’t just throw away Tech. It would be ableist, and that’s why he’s not dead.” Like??? The show was already ableist! One of the main characters is disabled and his being disabled is specifically relevant to why he’s even in this squad and in this show—and it’s never remotely discussed! The closest is the most oblique reference ever to how Echo doesn't like to be alone. That's it. Just because they actually managed to write this wonderful moment about Tech being autistic doesn’t mean their track record was suddenly irrelevant! Killing off their neurodivergent character is exactly the kind of ableist shit they would do! And see now: Crosshair's hand. Also Echo suddenly having a hand after not having one for so long and it being completely untouched upon. It's par for the course!

So the Tech Lives theories all hinged on the writing being really clever, but I just. Already hated so much of the writing, and it felt way more likely that they were just continuing to be bad writers and continuing to go with the poorer plot choice option every single time they had the opportunity to go a direction that would be thought provoking and emotionally affecting.

I felt very much and very sadly proven right when the season started, and we got no mention of Tech being dead until the FIFTH episode. The Batch never talked about Crosshair and why he tried to kill them, so I guess why would they talk about Tech dying, sigh. And it was so bizarre how people were arguing that Omega and Crosshair's little exchange about Tech was super touching and gave us everything we needed. It absolutely did not! The fact that we couldn't agree on whether Crosshair even knew tells you everything you need to know about the wacky writing choices! Why was it so vague?? They literally could have added one word:

Crosshair: Did they teach you plan 72? Omega: Mm-hmm. Tech had me memorize all the plans, before... Crosshair: Of course he did.

On that note, I began to feel uneasy about the fandom again, because it started feeling like an echo chamber, and I was worried everyone was getting too hyped about something that might not happen, and even if it did, might end up being some kind of poorly done fanservice. I started seeing a lot of defensive posts being like, “Well, the reason they’re not mentioning Tech is because he’s not dead, and you’re an idiot, unlike me, if you’re falling for their sneaky tricks.”

Like??? The prevalence of ride-or-die sentiments like that started making me feel like I was losing my grip on reality and watching a completely different show from everyone else. Wouldn’t the dramatic effect of Tech being alive be strengthened by the characters all mourning him, thus making us mourn him, thus making the plot twist that he’s alive even more effective?? Wouldn't the characters being shown to be affected by his death instead of just ignoring it be the most promising sign of his impending return?

To me, the characters not mourning Tech meant that the writers had put him aside and moved on (which is, again, terrible writing because it doesn’t give the viewers the space to grieve and then move on, and it makes the characters feel terribly heartless, which, well. At least they were consistent). And that blasé moving on made the possibility of him being dead WAY more likely to me. Of course they would kill their neurodivergent character and then just all but pretend it didn't happen. Of course they would act as if he had just been a convenient plot device! Of course they would only bring him up and act like they missed him when he wasn't there to miraculously do the characters' work for them and the writers' work for them! Fuck that so hard.

So then “Infiltration” and “Extraction” were a big surprise! I was like, oh, huh, guess I was totally wrong and they’re really doing it, wow. Okay, let’s see if they can actually pull it off. I liked the writing a lot better this season, so it felt more plausible that they were finally getting down to business. The fact that the clues felt so heavy handed was kind of weird to me, and I complained a lot about there not being red herrings, but I love a good Came Back Wrong story, so I was willing to believe I had been too pessimistic and cynical, as I often am.

After “Bad Territory” and “The Harbinger,” however, I started doubting it again. Fitting both this M-count mystery that had already taken up so much screen time plus a Tech Lives mystery just felt like a lot of ground to cover, and this was the show that couldn’t even seem to fit more than five seconds of the main characters being sad about the death of their squad mate. Did they really have what it would take to pace it?

Of course not!!!

After “Point of No Return,” I started to feel like if they did bring Tech back, it would be at the cost of it being done poorly. And to me, for his purported death AND his resurrection to be badly written would be way worse than just the former. And the draw of the whole Winter Soldier deal is the fallout; the guilt and doubt the characters harbor; the way they have to reckon with the fact that even if their loved one is back, they will never be the same again, because they did die in a way—and the less time allotted after a reveal like that, the fewer of those key things there would be, which would just make it feel so tacked on for cheap shock value and social media chatter. Especially because there had been so little buildup to such a thing at the beginning of the season. These writers' abilities are just not remotely close to Ed Brubaker's, y'all.

Then Rampart being introduced afterward felt like the death knell (oop) because it was a new plot thread they would need to wrap up by the end. But the Clone X thread was still dangling, so I felt like it wasn’t out of the question. But I guess after my complaints about the Tech connections being too obvious and there needing to be more red herrings, it turned out that the Tech connections themselves were the red herrings.

Although I feel like that's probably even giving the writers too much credit. I don't know if I really believe they were trying to mislead us. I feel like they just clumsily ended up doing things that coincided with the Tech Lives theories. Like I honestly wouldn't be surprised if when they used "domicile" it was completely without realizing they had previously had Tech say it and that this would lead to the viewers drawing an erroneous conclusion. They probably just wanted CX-2 to say something fancy and mysterious tbh, and the same words tend to float in writers' minds. Rip us.

I guess now I understand what I could never work out—if CX-2 was Tech, then why did he so specifically use rifles like Crosshair does and so proficiently, i.e. specifically better than Crosshair did? Why wouldn't he dual wield hand blasters?

Also, although I was in some ways relieved that at least they didn't write a bad resurrection for Tech, and there's absolutely no way it wouldn't have been shit if it'd just been shoved anywhere in the last three episodes, all this is not to say the Clone X concept didn't end up being super hamfisted as well. Just the fact that there are other Clone X types with different weapons and uniforms makes the concept even more confusing. Clearly these guys were meant to mirror the Batch, but then why did all the ones we encountered before CX-2 wear the same uniform as him?? Did they sort the clones into categories of which Clone X they would be? It would actually be cool if the point was to sow fear in the galaxy because it would seem like the person in the CX-2 suit was undefeatable, especially because they were completely covered and their build would be the same every time. But that would be too cool and coherent for this show, sigh.

Also, was Hemlock project managing them, or was Scorch? Neither really makes sense, but who was sending them after Rex's rebel cell? Was there a military higher-up giving the Advanced Science Division that directive? Why did CX-2 and the one that Rex's cell captured hate Crosshair so much? Why the fuck did CX-2 cut off his hand???

Anyway. I could go on forever, but I think at the end of the day, we all read too much into it because we are just collectively better writers than the writers are tbh. Sadly, a classic fandom experience. I guess what ultimately saved me the most from heartbreak and allowed me to earnestly enjoy the finale was that I had already spent a year believing Tech had died and suffered through my grief (by, you guessed it, writing a grief/mourning fic), and I just couldn’t shake the feeling that there was no way these writers could pull off something so emotional and complex. I swear I didn’t actually want to be right!

I think if nothing else, one thing we can all agree on is that Tech surviving could’ve been one kickass story, and it was a hell of a missed opportunity.

[cfcalcaraz]

Hiya!! Can u please write one where Mason is sad because of all the problems at the club, and Y/N can't stand seeing him like that, so she takes him on a date after training and treats him like he would treat her until he's feeling much better, just a fluffy thingy🥺🥺

self care - mm

summary: it upset you to see Mason dwelling over the hate he’d been receiving from the media, so you felt it was necessary for you to spoil him a little

author: i changed it up a little but i hope you like it!

warnings: man city

you looked over at the scoreboard, 6 extra minutes on the clock. Man City 1-0 Chelsea. you cursed under your breath as you knew what the outcome of this match was going to be. Mason had told you about how he was determined to start playing better following the rumors of him being transferred elsewhere next transfer window, but it didn’t seem like the crowd was happy with any of the guys’ performances today. as the game ended, Mason walked into the tunnel immediately, wanting to escape the public eye. you wanted to give him some space so you decided to just head home.

you sat there in your living room contemplating what you could do to make Mason feel better. he’d done so much for you, but you just felt like you weren’t able to reciprocate that same energy back. as you were deep in thought, you heard the front door open. Mason made his way over to the couch next to you and plopped down. he rested his head on your shoulder not wanting to be anywhere else at that moment. “you tried your best, Mase, that’s all that matters”. you gripped his hand as you attempted to comfort him. “but my best isn’t even good enough”. he hid his face in the crook of your neck as he slumped even more into you, which made you think he might’ve been tired. you hated seeing him like this and you were willing to do anything to make him feel better. “Masey, it’s only 6:30, you can’t be falling asleep yet. how bout we have a little self-care sesh together to lighten the mood?”. he looked up at you and just smiled. “sure. that would be nice”. 

you began setting up the bathtub and getting your favorite face masks out for you and Mason to use. “Mason! come here! i’ve got to put this on your face”. he walked into the bathroom, and the sight of you excitedly getting everything ready made him smile. “okay, come here. i’m gonna put this clay mask on your face”. Mason leaned on the countertop so you’d be able to put the mask all over his face. you both put cute little bunny headbands on and then applied the masks. you got one of your favorite bath bombs out to show Mason how awesome they look in the water. “Mason, look! isn’t that so pretty?”. you were so in awe of the bath bomb that you hadn’t even noticed Mason staring you down. “y/n, you know you’re really cute when you’re focused”. you smiled over at him and grabbed his hand. “let’s get inside the tub, shall we?”. 

you rested your back against Mason’s chest as you both sat there and just talked. you tried talking to him about everything that’s not football related to let him get his mind off the topic and just relax. you guys talked about all the places you wanted to visit in the near future and what your plans for the summer were. after a little while you just closed your eyes and rested your head against his chest. “i love you, y/n. i don’t know what i’d do without you sometimes”. you looked up at Mason and pressed a kiss against his cheek. “i love you too, Mase. you’re too kind”. 

as you two got out of the bathtub and began getting ready for bed, you couldn’t help but notice the shift in his mood since earlier. Mason had actually looked quite happy now. by the time you got to your room, Mason had already been in bed. you slipped inside the blankets next to him and laid your head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. you looked up at his face, mesmerized by how pretty he was, even while half asleep. “Mason, baby”. he tilted his head down to face you, his eyes still quite not open as he hummed in response. “i know things at the club have been tough lately and you don’t communicate much about these kinds of things, but just remember i’m always here for you. i don’t wanna see you suffer in silence and i hope you know i’ll always be by your side”. he pressed a kiss onto your forehead and smiled. “i appreciate you very much and thank you for being here for me”. he yawned, his voice still raspy. “but i’m extremely tired, babe. let’s sleep, yeah?”. “of course, goodnight Mase”. he was too tired to speak another word so he just pulled you in tighter as you both drifted off to sleep. 

[omarscurls]

Wilhelm finds the red shirt…

This was supposed to be about Wille finding his shirt in Simon’s room and just like being fluff in general

I’ve literally had this idea in my head since s2 premiered, and been writing since then lmao

It has taken me unbelievably long to write this short piece of fluffy nothingness

TWs: none really? Hints or signs of a panic attack and anxiety, August is mentioned, otherwise I don’t think there’s any

A/N look like this because my mind is weird and it’s fun to comment as I write

Idk what this is but enjoy! :)

Everything in Wille’s mind went blurry the second the cameras were turned off. He registers that the choir behind him has started to move, that the crowd watching him is whispering and not even hiding the looks they’re giving him, that the headmaster seems to be frozen where she’s sitting and that his mom, the queen, is walking towards him with determined steps and an unreadable face.

But he can also see that Boris is smiling at him proudly from where he’s sitting, that August who has stood up from his seat and is now talking to Nils while looking like he just swallowed a lemon, that Felice and Madison are both waving and smiling at him.

He finds comfort in all of these things, but it isn’t quite enough to stop his head from spinning and vision from going blurry. He once again realises his mom is trying to reach him and he starts feeling the panic rise in his chest and he desperately look’s around for a place to hide, run, anything, but everyone is coming closer and there’s so much noise and angry voices and people trying to reach him and he can’t quite see and…

There’s a hand in his. Simon’s hand, his mind helpfully tells him. Simon who is now desperately trying to pull him away from the chaos that is happening around them.

Wille doesn’t quite know how but they end up back in his room. He silently watches as Simon pulls the curtains shut and checks that the door is locked. Twice.

Then Simon turns to Wille. They stare at each other for just a second before they both go “Are you ok?”. Simon lets out a breathy laugh and says “yes, yes” while Wille pulls him close. “Are you ok?” Simon asks again, a bit muffled since his face is now hidden in the crook of Wille’s neck.

Wille thinks for a second. Because no, no he’s not ok. His heart is beating too fast and it still feels like he can’t get enough air into his lungs. But Simon is right here with him and having told everyone the truth doesn’t make him as anxious as it should. “Maybe, I think so” he finally responds.

Wille can feel Simon wrap his arms even tighter around him and he’s pretty sure Simon is smiling against his neck. He can feel his own heartbeat slow down little by little as he breathes in the smell of Simon’s hair.

“We are ok” Simon whispers to him, over and over again. Wille doesn’t know which one of them he is trying to convince, probably both. Either way, it helps.

Why tf are they at Wille’s? The whole point of this was for them to go to Simon’s, I’m getting carried away lol

“I love you” Wille whispers back a couple of minutes later, or maybe an hour, he doesn’t really know. It also doesn’t really matter. What matters is that he can somewhat breathe normally again and that Simon is still hugging him, gently rocking them back and forth.

“I love you too” Simon says, pulling away a little, so that he can look into Wille’s eyes. They both smile.

And then, finally, they kiss. Because after all, they’re just teenagers. Who are a little bit in love. And sometimes a little bit of casually making out is the best way to forget about the rest of the world.

They are rudely interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing. It’s Wilhelm’s. He doesn’t want to answer it, he can’t, really, right now.

But he doesn’t have to because Simon slips his hand into Wille’s pocket and grabs his phone. Declines the call and turns it off. Wille doesn’t even get the chance to see who’s calling.

Is this the fluffiest mess if ever written? Maybe

“Do you want to sleep at mine tonight?” Simon asks him after giving the phone back to Wilhelm, now with a determined look on his face.

“Please” Wille answers immediately, without hesitation. He doesn’t really know how that’s supposed to work though, because there’s most likely someone outside of his door just waiting to grab him and take him to the castle, or to his mom, probably to talk, or something.

But somehow they manage to get out, with some help from Felice and Madison. Wilhelm decides to just not look behind him as they hurriedly walk towards the bus station. He focuses on the feeling of Simon’s hand in his and blurs out everything else.

Yes this is me getting through not having written anything for weeks bc I didn’t know how to get them out of there whoops lol

Simon’s mom hugs them both tightly as soon as they walk inside the door and once again Wilhelm feels like he can breathe a tiny bit more freely.

After greeting Linda they head off to Simon’s room, where they once again make sure the window is locked and the curtains shut.

Is that even the right way to say that lol

He looks around for a bit, touches stuff that has been added since he was there last. He and Simon talk, mostly nonsense, very obviously avoiding the fact that the entire world is probably looking for them right now. But it’s comfortable. Wille feels safer than he has in a long time.

The sit at the end of Simon’s bed. Simon’s fingers are running through Wille’s hair as he rests his head against Simon’s shoulder. For the first time since the the cameras were turned off, Wille can’t feel his pulse racing. Simon tells him as much: “ are you more ok now? It seems better” “I think I am” he answers. He realises that’s true.

There’s a faint thought that he should be worried about something but it’s in the back of his head and it doesn’t seem impossible right now. Not when Simon is right there, feeling so real. His fingers in Wille’s hair is the only thing that seems to make any sense in Wille’s head at the moment.

See what I did there? “All the people are fake… but I like you and that’s not fake…” Simon is real :,)

Simon let’s his hands wander, one stopping on the prince’s chest, right on his heart. “At least your heartbeat is ok again” he mumbles, as he gently scratches at Wille’s shirt in the same spot, seeming to need something to hold on to.

The let their hands wander, talk for a bit, share a couple of innocent kisses, both of them being too exhausted to make them lead to something else.

It’s when Simon’s head, that’s now resting against Wille’s shoulder, start to become heavier, and Wille muffles another yawn with the sleeve of his hoodie, he suggests they go to bed. Simon doesn’t even really know what time it is, or if anyone has tried to reach them, but agrees since they both seem exhausted enough to fall asleep sitting up against the wall.

As Simon leaves to get some stuff for Wille and to say goo night to his mom, Wille gets up from the bed too. He changes into the T-shirt Simon threw at him to wear as pyjamas, and looks around the room again.

Why tf is nothing like, happening lmao

Simon did clearly not make his bed this morning so Wille doesn’t think he’ll mind is he just sits down and rests his eyes for a little while.

Ooooo finally? Maybe

As he moves the pillows around just a bit he sees something red sticking out from underneath one of them. Weird. He pulls out the piece of fabric and is puzzled for a second before he realises. That’s his shirt. The one he thought he lost months ago. In Simon’s bed.

He’s about to start thinking about what that means when Simon comes back. He seems to be in the middle of a sentence when he realises what Wille is doing and as his eyes land on the shirt in Wille’s hands, he freezes completely.

“I-“ he starts. “I was going to give it back…” “I swear!” “I didn’t steal it it was just that…” “I- you- the headmaster-“ Simon’s brain doesn’t seem to be functioning properly.

Wille just giggles: “Hey, it’s ok, I don’t mind, like, at all”. That’s makes Simon unfreeze again and stumble right into Wille, trying to hide his embarrassment in the prince’s shirt.

Said Prince just wraps his arms around Simon, who is very much clinging to him but still refusing to show his face. “I just want to know how you got it” Wille ends up saying.

As they move into bed Simon tells Wille how he got his hands on the shirt and how he completely forgot to give it back.

They forget about it, start talking about other things, kiss a little, talk some more, while they cuddle up under the covers. It’s not until they’re in the dark, just about to fall asleep, bodies tangled together until they can’t really tell where Simon ends and Wille begins, that Wille whispers: “how come the shirt was in your bed though? Under you pillow?” He barely has time to finish the sentence before Simon slaps a hand over the prince’s mouth and groans, while hiding underneath the blanket.

They’ll be ok.

Thank you so much for reading!! Any thoughts on this/feedback is very much appreciated so please leave a comment :)))

[nsk96]

Hey y’all,

I’m gonna go on hiatus again for a month, avoiding all social media. Making a proclamation like this seems to be the only thing that is effective “enough” (meaning that at some point, I’ll probably break the vow of staying away, but a few days away is better than none).

I’ve been struggling with my mental health due to everything in my life being too overwhelming for me to handle, which you can probably tell by how many times I vented for January. As a result, I’ve resorted to doom-scrolling across 3 different apps (Tumblr included) to help me feel better temporarily.

Overall though, it makes me feel much worse because I feel guilty about wasting time and procrastinating, and I’ve lost quite a few hours that I could have used for studying. (As if I wasn’t procrastinating enough without social media. Without social media, my procrastination has always been 4 walls and my thoughts, and whatever activity I could do at whatever ungodly hour of the night).

Then I’m also saddened by the fact that writing my fan fictions or novels, or even reading, would have been healthier coping mechanisms. And I’m always frustrated about not having time for these things (though the writing is understandable because I can’t write when I’m mentally burnt out…and I’m past burnt out since 2022).

I’ll probably still stop by to vent since this site is my safest mode of diary-keeping. I will miss you all, my mutuals and followers and seeing your posts and your tags under your reblogs💙

It will also sting to be cut off from my only sources of news for such a long period, but maybe it will allow me to focus more on the crisis here at home until I finish prepare my first-aid/medical kit, go-bag, and escape plan. I still have classes to get through and then I start rotations near the end of March.

I don’t know how long things at home will be “stable” enough. I found out from my mom a couple days ago that my dad found the handgun that was hidden (the one mentioned on a previous diary entry). Neither of us has asked him about it. We just know that it’s no longer where it was and neither of us have moved it.

Whatever happens, just know that I’m determined to come back and determined to live as long as the universe wills it. Toodles for now, stay safe, stay hydrated, stay awesome ❤️

(My dad has been discreetly digging through their room searching for the handgun for so long that it was only a matter of time until he found it. Another instance of my mom not listening to me. I told her the day that she and I previously found it, to let me store it in my room but she refused. Now he has it. I don’t know what she was thinking making it easy for him like that)

[skylarmoon71]

Timeless Wells (Flash) - Speedster Chapter 19

That night he’d taken you back to your apartment and left. 

He felt like he couldn’t look you in the eye. 

For the better part of the week, he’s careful to avoid running into you. He can’t face you, not yet. Not until he’s ready to confess what he’s done.

So he goes about his days as usual.

There’s a few times during that week that he catches a glimpse of you. He’s become pretty skilled at avoiding face to face interactions.

Maybe if he’d been more willing to deal with the problem he would have seen the expression you wore every time he evaded you.

~Star Labs~

“Hey (Y/N).”

You’re working in the lab and you don’t really respond to your name, not until Avery is right in front of you.

“Oh, hey.”

“Are you alright, you’ve been spacing out a lot. Yesterday you almost poured mayonnaise into your tea." Evan inputs.

“Sorry about that.”

You haven’t spoken to Harrison in what feels like ages and it’s starting to get to you. After the movie night you woke up in your room. Which you could only assume that he’d dropped you back.

A very sweet gesture.

You intended to see him the next day to plan another fun movie marathon, but it was like he disappeared. Since then you would catch brief looks, but the second he caught your stare he would look away. 

Confused and a little hurt, you were stuck with your thoughts. Maybe you’d done something that night? To your recollection nothing strange happened, so it made no sense for him to suddenly shut you out.

The longer you think about it the worse your mind seems to become.

“Hey guys I’m leaving early. I just remembered I have something to take care of.”

You can tell they are curious, but they don’t push. They both nod and you take off.

It’s time to confront the issue. You stroll over to his office with a new determination to get him to fess up.

It always felt so empowering when you decided to take a stand. The second you’re outside his office however, the doubt creeps in. You reach for the door, but stop halfway.

“Maybe I should stop by tomorrow, he might be busy.”

Another excuse.

“No! I’ve got to do this.”

You close your eyes, knocking on his door.

“Come in.”

From the sound, he’s alone. You step in quickly. Once inside you lock the door and Harrison finally looks up. You can see the way his body goes a bit rigid. The sight hurts. What exactly had you done to gain such a response to your presence?

You try to brush it off the best you can.

“Why are you suddenly acting all weird and distant? Did I do something?”

You’re done creating crazy scenarios.

“You didn’t do anything.”

He still refuses to look at you and it’s not helping to clear his case.

“You can’t even look at me anymore.”

Your tone is bitter, and he removes his glasses, running a hand through his hair as he stands.

“It’s not what you think.”

“Then explain it to me because I don’t understand!”

It feels almost wrong not to have him look at you with the warmth he’s always held.

It’s driving you crazy trying to read him. He finally looks up. If you expect something, it isn’t the heat that’s now visible in those usually playful eyes.

“You trust me.”

His statement confuses you, but when he begins to move closer, you find yourself stepping back. He’s right next to you now and your back is against the wall.

“I shouldn’t do anything to deter that trust..”

You’re distracted by the way he’s now somewhat looming over you.

“I..I don’t understand..”

Of course you don’t.

You’d been unconscious when he shamelessly attacked you.

“Please just tell me what’s wrong, tell me how to fix it.”

He should be the one pleading right now. Not you. For your forgiveness.

“You can’t, because you’re not the one who broke anything. It was me.”

You’re still puzzled.

“I don’t-”

“I kissed you.”

That stops you cold.

“You fell asleep when we were watching that movie and you fell onto my shoulder. I just..I just wanted to kiss you. I took advantage of you while you were vulnerable and in my care.”

He looks ashamed and you feel for him. It was an innocent kiss. Then he’d basically run like some criminal. You would have laughed at his innocence had it not been for the very defeated look on his face.

“We’re both adults, you didn’t have to turn tail and run. Harrison, you've been helping me for months now. It’s normal to be confused about feelings. You don’t have to punish yourself.”

There’s a part of you that’s been hoping for this development, but it’s clear he’s not ready to approach such a relationship and you aren’t ready to lose the person in your life that you care most about. You’re completely willing to set aside your feelings to help accommodate him.

“I’m not confused.”

There’s a sense of determination in his eyes.

“At the time I was. But I’m not confused, not anymore.”

You can hardly believe it, there’s a part of you that still questions it.

“Maybe my obligation to you has extended into an emotional outlet, that is possible. Despite that, how I feel about you, this isn't some need to hold onto you because I feel like I have to protect. It’s more than that. This isn’t transference.”

Now you’re the one who looks unsure.

“Are you saying that you-”

“Yes. I have feelings for you.”

It’s the only thing that makes sense to him. It’s been so long since he even considered love for obvious reasons. When he set out, the plan was just to turn you into a hero.

Now, circumstances have changed.

He’s still too close, and when his hand touches your cheek, it’s as though you’ve forgotten that you need to breathe. His stare has you completely paralyzed. No one has ever looked at you that way. Not since that time. Harrison leans in cautiously. You feel as though you should do something, say something, but nothing feels right at the moment. Not until his lips lay gently against your own.

It’s a tender fleeting touch that’s gone just as quickly as it appeared. Harrison pulls away fully. You don’t say a word, you’re not sure what’s the right thing to say. Your face falls and Harrison feels guilt from the action. Both this time and the one before.

“You shouldn’t have done that..” You mutter.

Harrison has an apology set and ready, but you grab him by the collar of his jacket and spin him around, pressing him into the door. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise when your lips press insistently to his. For a moment he thinks this is a daydream. His hands are raised awkwardly, and you show no signs of relenting. When he feels you nibble on his lower lip it’s like the breaking point. 

His hand slides around your waist as he pulls you closer. A cute little moan escapes your lips and the heat of the sound rushes right through his body. He vaguely feels your hand pulling at his tie, and it slides right out of the collar, dropping to the floor. You pull back and he gasps. You basically rip his shirt open, the buttons clattering to the floor. Your hands move to the expanse of his very defined torso and your lips have gravitated to his neck. You’re leaving kisses at every part that you can.

Harrison isn’t sure what course of action to take. All he knows is that it feels amazing. His head falls back on the door as you continue your maddening ministrations. At the back of his mind he knows he should put a stop to this. He’s at work. This is definitely breaking every code of ethics and he’s the boss!

“(Y/N)...w-we need to stop..”

He’s breathless. It takes a moment for him to finally gain enough control to halt this before it goes too far. His shaky hands move to your shoulders and he regrettably pushes you back just a bit.

You’re breathing is a bit staggered for obvious reasons and his isn’t much better.

He looks at you to explain, but there’s a haze of desire reflected right back at him and he gulps. You look as though you want to devour him right there and he groans, pulling you back in as his lips come crashing down on your own. You moan in approval and Harrison stumbles as you try to guide him away from the door.

“The..couch..”

You mumble in between kisses.

He nods, following your lead. His shirt is still hanging open, his tie is somewhere in the room.

Harrison drops onto the couch, and you fall right into his lap. You’re both sitting upright, and his hands pull your thighs in an attempt to get you closer. You feel everything. All of him.

Sliding off your lab coat, you drop it uninterested. Harrison’s hands have gravitated to your hair and when he gives a soft tug, you moan.

He parts, looking at you.

“You liked that..”

You nod, a bit desperate.

“Y-Yes, do it again.” You insist.

His mouth slants over yours and he gives another pull as his tongue slides past your lips. You hold onto him, fingers running over his bare chest. You love the feel of smooth skin, doubled with just the right amount of muscle. It’s perfect.

He’s perfect.

The minute you reach for his belt buckle he’s almost dying with anticipation. The sheer fact that you’re initiating this is driving him wild. He’s never felt this out of control before.

As faith would have it, it became clear that trying to get it on in a work environment was not the best choice.

You hear the sound of feet skating before you fully see who it is.

“Harrison I just wanted to check in on-”

Barry’s voice startles you both and you basically jump right out of Harrison’s lap.

Barry is standing there gaping and you clutch your blouse that you hadn’t even realized came undone.

“B-Barry!”

Harrison’s appearance leaves very little to the imagination. His hair is tousled, shirt open, jacket hanging off on one side. There’s a few faint marks along his neck. Barry turns around, somewhat mortified.

Harrison scrambles to his feet and you both look between each other.

It seems the jump to reality has cleared the fog of arousal on both sides.

Right about now you would very much like to evaporate. 

[incognito-lionbeast]

SJ Returns!AU thoughts & additional story – RE: Yue Qingyuan (ft. Shen Jiu) [Master Post] -------------------

Which was to say, there was much to unpack. Shen Jiu’s return, the fact that he was here and willing to talk to him was nothing short of a miracle. Yet, there were some very complicated feelings to go along with that, and not just about their shared history, either. Because, if he accepted that this young man was the real Shen Jiu (and he did), then… if Yue Qingyuan was truly honest with himself, he wasn’t all that surprised that Shen Qingqiu was someone else. Amnesia from a qi deviation could account for memory loss, but there were things that never made sense no matter how he hoped otherwise.

A good example came from around the time of Tianlang-Jun’s invasion and the knowledge “Shen Qingqiu” had regarding the subject. Inexplicably. Yet, then and even still now, Yue Qingyuan chose trust and acceptance. While he didn’t regret that trust, he couldn’t help feeling a little foolish, knowing that he’d so desperately held onto the hope that Shen Qingqiu was still the same… even with evidence against it. He wanted to believe in the small chance that Shen Qingqiu might suddenly remember. Perhaps his confession on Maigu Ridge was as much a dying man’s desperation as it was confirmation that Shen Jiu was well and truly gone.

But he was there now. 

So where did that leave the soul Yue Qingyuan had known for the past dozen years?

He couldn’t help feeling sincere affection for Shen (Yuan) Qingqiu. Even if he wasn’t the man he’d been pretending to be all these years, even if perhaps some of that was misplaced affection for the Original. Shen Qingqiu, by his own merit, was an extraordinarily loyal and caring man, he thought. Perhaps just as extraordinarily flawed, but who was he to judge? Some might argue that he ought to judge a little, but Yue Qingyuan didn’t have the heart. Though, as Sect Leader, he had to take this seriously, too. An imposter had been living among them for over a decade, and no matter how much he liked them… well, at the very least, Yue Qingyuan needed answers. 

It wasn’t a possession insofar as any conventional means could detect. So what then? Shen Jiu seemed to be in a similar position, but neither could he explain the details. Well, only time would tell.

The time between Shen Jiu’s arrival and the confrontation with Shen Qingqiu was both indescribably long and far too short. Explaining everything that happened in Shen Jiu’s absence was a horribly awkward task; though at least Shen Jiu could recount some of it on his own, if partially through the lens of rumour and hearsay (also, as far as Shen Jiu was concerned, confirmation that Shen Qingqiu & Luo Binghe had married was enough on that subject). On the other hand, Shen Jiu’s account of his own life… 

Yue Qingyuan felt privileged that he was willing to share anything at all. Based on what precious scraps of information Shen Jiu volunteered, his second try sounded far more kind. If anything, he seemed the most put-out that he’d had to suffer being a child again. Yet, in exchange, certain opportunities had been returned to him. So, he came back.

It eased Yue Qingyuan’s heart some.

(If I’m vague about Shen Jiu’s experiences, it’s because I haven’t fully determined what they are yet. I’ve tossed around a few ideas—including one where Qiu Haitang is the person who finds/takes care of freshly-transmigrated Shen Jiu. Which is very tempting, but would require considerable thought & development to make work.)

In any case, as the day of Shen Qingqiu’s visit drew nearer, Yue Qingyuan wasn’t any more certain of how he ought to feel. Shen Jiu asserted firmly that he didn’t want his old body back, which made things a little easier… suppose… Yet, he couldn’t help experiencing a twinge of sadness at how vehemently Shen Jiu insisted — how repulsed he was by his own flesh and blood. And, by extension, the shared memories attached to it. Perhaps his soul mattered most, but it was a wistful sort of emotion that pricked like thorns. Yue Qingyuan could only accept and try to hide his complicated expression.

Xiao Jiu willing, perhaps they’d make new memories. He placated himself with the thought (though don’t let Shen Jiu know he’d used that name again), mulling over what it would take… and what’s more, how he was to go about forgiving himself like Shen Jiu insisted. There were still things he needed to explain— like what he’d told Shen Qingqiu that day at Maigu Ridge, for starters. Hopefully, he’d be able to speak of it a second time without nearly dying first, but either way that was a topic for the future. Probably. Shen Jiu hadn’t actually asked about it yet. Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe Yue Qingyuan needed to stop trying to desperately make up for the years spent apart and slow down. That was probably true.

So, as an aside–

Shen Jiu spent the first night back at Cang Qiong mountain completely unable to sleep. The next few nights, he managed somehow, sitting with his back toward the wall in a corner of Yue Qingyuan’s room. They’d agreed to wait on sending him to the disciples’ quarters ‘til after they settled things with Shen Qingqiu. So, he’d been reading. Adjusting to being back. Yue Qingyuan didn’t mind the company; it wasn’t as if they’d never shared a room before. Yet, it was on those final two nights before the confrontation that Shen Jiu surprised him. He’d thus far denied the use of a bed—any bed; and yet, when Yue Qingyuan returned from a very long day of being Sect Leader, he found Shen Jiu both times laid crumpled up on his side in his bed, fast asleep.

If it weren’t for a nagging sense of propriety, Yue Qingyuan might have joined him.

[ajokeformur-ray]

Sometimes I wanna talk about the very real ways in which Arthur Fleck saved my life in 2019, but I never do so to the full extent because a) it would most likely trigger some people and I don’t wanna do that at all, especially not in the name of expressing myself, and b) some things are meant to stay between you and the bathroom floor at 3am.

It’s impressive how many times Arthur Fleck has given me the strength to save myself, to scoop myself up off the floor at 3am after crying my eyes out, to not follow my intrusive thoughts of cutting all my hair off because I feel so often like I don’t deserve happiness and my hair is one of the few parts of my body I truly love and feel a connection to, to make a meal when I would rather skip and let myself rot, to not want to go to work but doing it anyway because I know it’s what he would want, to take my time brushing my hair because he wouldn’t want me to hurt myself just to get it done faster, to take care of myself when I just don’t care anymore, to try when I don’t think I have it in me anymore… the amount of strength, joy, courage, determination, and “I’ll just do it for one more day” I’ve received from him, is immeasurable. I got a job in a care home, which gifts me with the opportunity of being able to help people because he inspired that in me. I’m doing a psychology with counselling honours degree because I want to help the real life Arthurs of the world, like my brother, who slip between the societal cracks never to return again unless someone is willing to dig them out. He changed my life, saved it, made it better, taught me better ways of being, healthier ways.

Arthur Fleck really DID save my life, he saved me in 2019 and many a time since, and I’ll forever and ever and ever be grateful for the fact that the world got gifted with such a phenomenal character. I’ll truly carry him with me forever, always trying to do and be in ways he would be proud of, as a way to honour all the things he’s given me the strength to do, all the times he’s helped me to save myself. I would not be HERE, I would not be who I am or where I am, if it hadn’t been for Arthur. It sounds so dramatic, but I can’t properly articulate the seriousness of this post. The people who know, though, know.

I just… I’m curled up in bed right now watching Joker and eating coffee ice cream to sign off the end of another busy day which is full of too much work, too much stress, and not enough time. My body isn’t enough, most days, for all the things I have to squeeze into one day every day, but here right now, under my Joker blanket and hugging my Joker cushion while I watch the film and let my body and mind rest, I feel the most at peace I’ve been all week. My chest is still a little tight, but by the end of the film, that’ll totally go away. Arthur literally and metaphorically makes it easier to breathe and that’s everything.

It seems a bit… redundant to say that I love Arthur Fleck, but I do. I really do.

[jojolovenotes]

trick or treat + kira ? (pretty pumpkin please 🎃🎃🎃)

"not to rain on your parade or anything, but since when are gingerbread haunted houses a thing?" from Halloween Prompts

Yoshikage Kira had never really shown any interest in celebrating 'Halloween'. He had seen how many people enjoy going to Shibuya to participate in some grand social event that he’d never consider participating in. He understood that you enjoyed Halloween, and he didn’t mind doing anything regarding the holiday as long as it was subtle enough. 

You were determined to get Kira in the Halloween spirit, but also knew that you didn’t want to do anything that might be too ‘noisy’ for him. When you were looking around the store for some Halloween decorations, you picked subtle ones that could easily be placed and cleaned up later - nothing to bring unwanted attention. You were happy Kira was willing to at least try to get into the Halloween spirit with you even if he had been reluctant to do so at first. It was at the store that you found a Halloween gingerbread house. That seemed like it could be a fun activity to do together, and it involved staying indoors too. 

Once you arrived home you set a couple of bags containing decorations, Halloween snacks, and of course the box containing the Halloween gingerbread house kit. Kira watched you curiously as you unpacked the festive goodies. He took note of the box containing the gingerbread house… Wasn’t this traditionally something for Christmas only?

“Not to rain on your parade or anything, but since when are gingerbread houses a thing?” Kira held the box in his hand and looked at the back of it.

It looked like it was supposed to be a ‘scary’ gingerbread house with little candies meant to be tombstones and skulls. He couldn’t help but let out an amused chuckle. Seriously it seems as though people will make anything to make some money during the holidays now. 

“Probably because a lot of people like that movie. You know the one…. Nightmare before Christmas.” You explained. 

“I can’t say I’ve seen that one.” Kira set down the box on the table. 

You looked over at Kira with your mouth open from the shock, “You’ve never seen Nightmare before Christmas?”

“Should I have?” 

“Yes.”

“Is it a children’s film?”

“Anyone can enjoy it.” You said with a small laugh. 

It still caught you off guard how little Kira seemed to know or participate in popular culture. That just meant you had more things you could introduce Kira too… he seemed open to the idea if he was allowing you to decorate for Halloween which is something Kira thought he’d never consider before.

“If you enjoy it, then I see no harm in attempting to watch it.” Kira said with a small shrug. 

“Good! I was going to say we can watch it while we work on this gingerbread house.” You said with a grin.

“Alright, alright. You win.” Kira chuckled a little to himself once more. Honestly sometimes he still couldn’t believe you got him to do such ridiculous things like this.

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Worthy, pt13

part 1 & 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12

__________

tags: @bolontiku, @rampant-salamander, @darkdragonpheonix , @440mxs-wife,  @castiels-sunflowers, @peekingsunshine, @alexakeyloveloki, @feelmyroarrrr

word count: 3712

__________

There’s only been a few times in my life when I’ve been desperate to become invisible. In eighth grade, when Jimmy McFadden found out I had a crush on him, he responded “That nerd? She wishes,” in front of most of the school before commenting on my jiggly bum. That wasn’t the part that made me want to vanish. It was when he said it was a shame I was such a nerd because I had “such excellent knockers”. That’s when I prayed for a hole to appear in the floor and suck me away because honestly, hell would have been preferable. And my boobs weren’t and still aren’t, that great. In senior year, the self-same boy, who’d become even more impossibly handsome, asked me to prom, but quickly announced that he’d only done it because he needed help studying for his chem final and figured if he showed me a good time, we’d both get something out of it. I wasn’t sure about how his plan to deflower me worked out to mutual benefit. But once again, I wanted to disappear into the ground, never to be seen again.

Once I hit college, I was able to retreat from social circles that were petty and indifferent to the emotional games that teenagers played, and I hadn’t had any further incidents of mortification. Until now, on learning I could potentially manipulate the emotions of those people around me. I was ashamed and embarrassed. What if every emotionally charged encounter in my life had only occurred because I had willed it into existence? Every first date that had gone well, or every one that had gone poorly, might have done so because I wanted it. Every man I’d ever been with flashed through my mind. It was a short slideshow, but what if they’d only been with me because I made them think they wanted it?

“Oh god,” I flinched. What if Bruce had only kissed me because my stupid college crush had resurfaced and forced him to? “Oh god. I have to go.” I stood up.

“We aren’t done yet, sunshine,” Lex put a hand on my shoulder and pushed me back on the exam table.

“No, I have to go. I can’t be around people. I need to be locked away from everyone so my feelings don’t affect them.” I stood back up.

“And yet, regardless of your determination to go, you aren’t forcing me to let you go with your brain. So sit the fuck down, and let’s finish this assessment.” She raised an eyebrow, like she was daring me to try to mess with her head.

“Maybe you’re immune,” I argued, “because Loki has affected you too.”

“Affected is an interesting word. Tainted might be better.” She looked over her shoulder, “does anyone out there feel an overwhelming urge to suit up and help Ella escape?” A chorus of negative answers returned. “See? We’re solid. Settle your boots.”

I relaxed just slightly, somewhat in awe of Lex Richmond. She had a different kind of confidence than I did, one that was tough. Like she’d been run through a gauntlet to get where she was. My confidence came from being told every day of my life that I could do and be whatever I wanted. I got the impression that Lex had fought for each accomplishment in her world. I suspected some people probably found her brusque, but I found her honest approach refreshing and reassuring.

She steered me toward the super swanky MRI she and Tony had developed, and I found that I was right. She was reassuring because she was honest.

“I don’t know how you feel about small spaces, but I fucking hate them. Unfortunately, MRIs need to be smallish in order to get a good image. We enlarged the space as much as we could but it wound up being just a few centimetres. There’s some clicking that happens in there, and the machine whirs, but if you tell me what kind of music you like, I can jack some tunes to you.” She made the explanation seem like a social chat. It relaxed me quite a bit.

She hadn’t told me about the super secret light show she and Tony had wired into the MRI, so while I listened to music, I got to watch a colour organ project colours across the inside of the machine. If anything, it was hard to remember not to bop my head to the music. The time past faster than I thought it should have. She led me back to the med lab and walked me over to a treadmill.

“So now we’re going to check your endurance. When this happened,” she gestured at her arm, “I was suddenly enhanced. I could run faster for longer with little effect on my general energy store. Since you’ve always been this way, I’m curious to see how you do.”

I snorted. “I can’t run for shit, Lex.”

“Show me,” she nodded at the treadmill. I hopped on and let her get me started. And of course, she started me way too fast. I slowed the machine down and kept it to a brisk walk. She raised an eyebrow but at my returned glare, said nothing. I kind of wished it was one of those swanky treadmills with the TV attached because I hated being social when I was sweating, but staring at the wall was also really boring. The stupid thing could have at least faced the window so I could look out over the city. After ten minutes I was feeling kind of done, and said so. Lex laughed and shook her head.

“This is an endurance test. And you’re walking, not running. So you can either choose to run, which will burn you out faster, or keep walking all night,” she laughed. I gaped. “I know. Bitchiest doctor that ever lived in bitchy doctor land, right?”

“Something like that,” I huffed, but I increased the speed on the treadmill. Not quite to a run, as I wasn’t sure my heart would take the shock. I had done next to nothing other than sit in a lab during my Master’s studies.

“What’s your sport?” She asked.

“I don’t have one.” It wasn’t actually true. I’d been on a rep soccer team during high school and my undergrad was on a soccer scholarship.

“I don’t buy it,” she disagreed.

“She had a full ride for soccer in college,” Tony offered from across the room. I scowled in his direction.

“This should come back then,” Lex laughed, and bumped the speed up so I was jogging. I grunted and lurched forward into a run. The thing about soccer was it was short bursts of really intense exertion. I was not a distance runner. I could do bursts of speed, but I had put on weight during the last few years, and I was out of shape, so I doubted those bursts of speed would really be considered speedy. I settled into a slow jog and focused on a spot on the wall, and let the soundtrack that was constantly running in my head take over, tuning everything around me out. I wasn’t paying any attention to Lex when she pressed the stop button, and I stumbled a little on the slow down, but didn’t quite lose my balance.

“I thought you said this was endurance?” I asked. Lex nodded at the clock on the treadmill with an eyebrow quirked. It said sixty minutes.

“How long was I running?” I asked, double-checking the clock. Yeah, it said sixty minutes.

“Fifty minutes. At 5 miles per hour. So I’d say you’ve got some endurance left. You should consider taking running up,” she suggested.

“You say that to everyone,” Tony snorted. “Lex is desperate for running buddies. I think she might be bored of Steve.” Lex smacked Tony in the arm, laughing.

“That’s not true!” She protested. “About Steve, anyhow. I do like having new running partners though.”

“I’m not going to start running. I like sitting. And feeling my ass get bigger.” I stepped off the treadmill and sat down on the nearest chair to illustrate my point. “Only thing missing right now is some ice cream.” Lex shook her head and handed me a bottle of water.

“Use your imagination,” she teased. I stuck out my tongue and reached for the towel on the crossbar of the treadmill to wipe myself off.

XXX

I’d managed to escape for a shower while Lex crunched the data on my assessment. I wrapped myself in one of the super plush awesome towels I’d purchased and padded across my room to get dressed when a voice interrupted me.

“Ms. Carmichael, Dr. Richmond would like to see you in the med lab.” The crisp British accent startled me. I shrieked and jumped into my closet. “Your heart rate has just accelerate, Ms. Carmichael. Should I assume you haven’t read your suite orientation manual?”

“I skimmed it!” I argued.

“In that case, I am J.A.R.V.I.S., the artificial intelligence Mr. Stark has programmed, primarily for his benefit. I am, however, in use throughout the tower, and can see to any needs you may have as they arise. Which includes forwarding messages like the one I just passed on.”

“Right. Uh, thanks?”

“That is not necessary, but you are welcome, Ms. Carmichael.”

“Okay.” I stepped out of the closet. “You can’t see me, can you?”

“No, visual monitoring would be a violation of your right to privacy in your own home,” it (he?) responded.

“But you can monitor my vital signs?”

“For your safety only, Ms. Carmichael.” I couldn’t help but look at the ceiling when it spoke. I dropped my towel and dressed hastily, not quite believing that there was no video link, but deciding if there was video, it was because everyone at Stark Industries was destined to see me naked, or in some state of undress. I hurried out of my suite and back to the med lab.

“Did you know there’s an AI in the ceiling? Creepy as hell.” I asked Lex as I walked through the door. I didn’t realize Tony and the gang were still hanging around, until I heard Tony stifle a laugh. I shot him a dirty look and turned back to Lex. “So?”

“You have some clear differences from Loki, which makes sense, as you aren’t a clone. And you and I have some pretty clear differences as well. I’m significantly stronger than you. But your intelligence is off the charts,” Lex offered.

“We didn’t do any intelligence testing.” I was confused.

“Tony might have hacked some networks to get some extra information. Did you know that you qualified for Mensa when you were, like, six?”

“Yes.”

“Did you know they rescinded your qualification when you were nineteen because they decided you must have cheated?” She pressed.

“No. But it doesn’t surprise me. I rewrote every exam in first year for the same reason until the college decided that I had to write all my exams in a private room.”

“That didn’t bother you?” She asked.

“After high school? No. The academic advisory panel approached it like they were looking out for both our interests, and I agreed. It ensured there was no dishonesty on either side,” I shrugged. “It meant I didn’t have to keep worrying about rewriting exams.”

“That’s a remarkably calm response,” she raised an eyebrow, as though she didn’t believe I could be zen about anything.

“Just because Loki has self-control issues doesn’t mean I do. My mother is the calmest, coolest person I’ve ever met. I do have half her DNA, you know.” I couldn’t help but laugh. Lex broke into a wide grin.

“You know, that’s so true. I can’t help but focus on the Loki in you, but your mum must be pretty remarkable to have attracted his attention. You’ll have to fill me in on the story,” Lex leaned back against a counter and scribbled some notes on her tablet, “but another time.”

“Sure. In the meantime, can I go? I have a ton of work to catch up on.” I had found all the testing pretty invasive, and really wanted some time in the lab, alone with my thoughts, to build stuff. Lex didn’t say no, so I took the opportunity to leave, heading down to the Starbucks in the lobby for an enormous cup of coffee before heading to the lab.

XXX

I was alone in the lab. It was beautiful. I had half expected some of the night-labbers to be hanging around, but it was eerily quiet. I accessed the online radio and set up some music to break up the silence as I worked on the water reclamation miniaturization. My parents had always teased me about being born in the wrong decade, and I was completely thrilled to find a Big Band music station. The speaker on my desk was set at the perfect level to not interfere with my work; not so loud that it irritated me, and not so quiet that it was distracting. I tapped my foot and pulled my magnification glasses back down. Tony had dropped a set of customized tools off for me before I’d headed home and I was astonished and pleased with how well they fit my hands.

I must have lost track of the time as I worked, but I realized I was sitting in silence again. The playlist on the radio station had been about three hours. I flicked through the screen and found another similar playlist and hit play. The familiar strains of one of my favourite torch songs filled my space and without realizing it, I started singing along. Singing was my guilty pleasure. It released stress, and made me happy. In light of the discovery earlier in the day, it was probably a good idea I keep singing. It would at least have the side effect of making the people around me happy.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” A voice pulled me out of the tiny space my vision had tunneled down on. It took a minute before my eyes acclimated to the dark lab space after staring down on my backlit workbench. I pushed the magnification glasses up to the top of my head.

“Bruce,” I breathed. “Uh, hi.”

“Tony said he could hear you singing and that he couldn’t help but smile. I could use some happy,” he apologized.

“How did he –“ I paused, “Nevermind. J.A.R.V.I.S, can you block the audio feed from this lab?”

“Certainly, Ms. Carmichael,” it responded. “And activate override block protocols,” Bruce added. I quirked an eyebrow at him. “So Tony can’t just override your request unless he comes down and does it from here.” He explained.

“Of course, Dr. Banner.” The AI sounded almost sentient; the tone it spoke in was so familiar and friendly. I began to clear away my mess and realized my project drawers were cluttered and messy, and half the reason I’d wanted to work was to tidy them. I emptied the debris out of the reclamation apparatus drawer onto the top of my desk and stowed it. As Bruce watched in what appeared to be horrified awe, I cleared out my drawers and began organizing parts and components in the small storage containers that Markus had left on my desk before the weekend in a subtle suggestion that I needed to better organize myself.

“How do you get anything done?” He asked.

“A clean desk is a sign of a diseased mind,” I retorted, flicking various screws into containers according to size. Bruce leaned back against the desk beside me, his arms crossed over his chest. I felt like I was being graded, or somehow measured. “You can’t fail me in this lab, Doctor.” I winked. He chuckled. It was a low rumble, warm and friendly.

“To be honest, Tony is more disorganized than you are. You might win the intelligence leg of this triathlon though.” He pushed off the edge of the desk and stepped over to look at my various piles of supplies. “You have plans for all this?”

“Hell no, I always over-order and then just return stuff to distribution. Saves me having to reorder during a project,” I laughed.

“And one of the stores trolls hasn’t come to kill you in your sleep? They have to recount every single one of those million teeny screws when you return them, you know.”

“I’m sure they have a sorter or a counter or something. I’m not going to mess around with having to worry about lot numbers and compliance and quality control issues by having to reorder,” I shook my head and shrugged.

“I think Tony might be the only one who gets away with that,” Bruce warned me.

“Well, no one has come to stab me in the eye yet.” I snapped the lid on a container and pulled out the deep drawer at the bottom of my desk. Bruce let out a low whistle. “That’s impressive, Ella.”

He squatted down beside the drawer and lifted a few containers out of the drawer. My real dirty secret, despite how slobby Markus though I was, was that I wasn’t slobby at all. My materials were all managed and labeled when they were not in use. My desk was only a mess when I was mid-project.

“There’s a lot of spare parts here,” Bruce commented.

“I keep enough to rebuild every component I’ve actively worked on in a six month period. Don’t tell anyone. I like to cultivate the messy genius mystique.” I took the containers back and carefully placed them in their original spots. I wasn’t sure if Bruce had noticed that they were in part number order, and I wasn’t sure I wanted him to know. I dropped a piece of paper on the stacks to separate them from what I was going to add, so I didn’t have to figure out where to start the next time I was in the lab.

“Can I buy you dinner?” Bruce suddenly asked. I lost my grip on the drawer and slammed it shut by accident, startling both of us.

“Sorry!” I exclaimed. Bruce cringed.

“I’m sorry. Of course you wouldn’t. I’m probably close to twenty years older than you.” He pushed his hand through his hair and began to back away. I grabbed his arm to stop him.

“You might be ten years older than me. Maybe?” I reassured him. “I’m starving. So I hope you meant right now.”

“Reassure me I’m not robbing the cradle first.” He looked so uncomfortable that I couldn’t help but smile.

“My thirtieth birthday is in three weeks.”

“Oh. You’re much older than you look,” he blurted. “I’m sorry. I mean, you look quite youthful.”

“I’m half Jotun teenager, it’s okay to say I look young.” I realized my hand was still on his arm. “In fact, I’ll even be flattered when you tell me I look young when we’re old and grey.” What was wrong with me? Why would I say something so bold and outrageous to him before we’d even made it through one date? I wanted to fade into a corner, and melt into a pool, and ooze down an air vent to get away.

“Maybe we should get through dinner first.” His smile was awkward, but not unfriendly. I laughed uncomfortably. In the weird silence that followed my stomach growled loudly. We both laughed and the strange moment was over. “Before your stomach unleashes the Other Guy, even.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I agreed and we headed to the elevator.

Bruce led me out into the warm night, and stopped and looked in both directions, deep in thought. “Three blocks that way is some of the best Thai you’ll ever eat. Six blocks the other way is a great burger place.” My eyes fell on the hot dog cart across the street.

“I’ve never had street meat in New York City,” I tugged him toward the sidewalk. He looked at me, his brow wrinkled in surprise.

“This isn’t really a first date, Ella,” Bruce protested.

“I’d argue our first date was when you kissed me,” I winked, and slipped my hand in his and pulled him across the street. I stopped in front of the street vendor and flashed my best smile. The guy grinned back.

“What’ll it be for you, prinzessa?” He was every hot dog cart street vendor trope I’d ever seen in a TV show. I brought my hands to my face to mask my excitement.

“Just a hot dog and a diet Coke, I guess,” I ordered and tilted my head at Bruce. “He’s buying.” I told the guy all the stuff I wanted on it, and greedily took it from him. Before Bruce could even pay for it, I’d taken a huge bite. So good.

“You’re going to pay for this later,” Bruce shook his head and took a bite from his hot dog. I shook my head and sat on the nearest bench.

“No. So good, so worth it.” I looked up at the tower and shook my head. The hot dog, the dream job, the high school crush buying me dinner. Some weird balance in the universe was trying to make up for my dubious parentage, at any rate. There was something so ordinary and nice about sitting there with Bruce, eating hot dogs and saying nothing. Like I wasn’t the daughter of a god, and he wasn’t the incredible Hulk. Like we were completely normal, albeit genius level intelligence, people. I sighed and took a sip from my drink. Bruce’s arm snaked around my shoulder and he leaned over and kissed my forehead. I slid my bum closer on the bench and leaned against him.

“You sure this isn’t a first date?” His voice broke the quiet peace between us.

“Why?” I laughed.

“Because it’s the kind of first date we’ll talk about when we’re old and grey.” His voice rumbled in his chest. I looked up at him, a little bit surprised. He’d seemed so cautious while we were still in the tower. He dipped his head and his lips met mine.

[dragonbanexxi]

Soul of Bronze; Blood of Fire

Not Canon Compliant!!!!

Helaena x OC Targaryen Royce

Chapter 4: Aemond

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

The Heir of Runestone would often joke that he should be referred to as Rhaegar Stone. Seeing as his father (Prince Daemon Targaryen) had no want for him and his mother (Lady Rhea Royce) was long dead. All jokes end when he and Ser Gerold Royce are summoned to the capitol by none other than King Viserys the First of his Name. The King wanting nothing more than to bring his estranged nephew into the fold, Viserys offers Rhaegar his so called Targaryen Right. A betrothal to the Princess Helaena and the chance to claim a dragon. Will Rhaegar be able to claim such a beast? Even if his valyrian skills were lacking? Prince Aemond seems to think so. Though he’s mostly is just thrilled to finally have someone around who’s willing to be his friend. Also the court begins to notice that the Princess Helaena seems to have taken a liking to the new prince. Much to her mothers dismay, who’s fighting tooth and nail to have the girl be given to Aegon. Something neither sibling wanted. To Rhaegar everything was going smoothly until the news of Laena Velaryon death had dampen everything.

Unimpressive.

That was all Aemond could think about his cousin entering the courtyard.

The royal family stood outside. King Viserys in the center with the blacks to his right and the greens to the left.

Viserys sported a warm smile as his eyes landed to his nephew. Aemond glaring a bit to his father, his belly churning with envy. His father never looked at him or siblings that way. Well only to one Rhaenyra. His sister who was currently looking like a war was waging in her head.

The King’s second son could only wonder what was setting his elder sister amiss.

On instinct his eyes traveled to his mother. Aemond knew that expression his mother was sporting. The Queen didn’t want the Rogue Prince’s son here.

In private she had dubbed Rhaegar Targaryen “The Rogues Spawn.” Aemond knew it was mostly because Alicent was upset that his grace plans on betrothing Helaena to Rhaegar.

He turned his lilac eyes back on the newcomer, Aemond couldn’t help but scowl a bit. His coloring was similar to the Strong Boys. Though Rhaenyra’s sons had straight brown hair, their cousin had curly raven black hair.

The infamous Prince Rhaegar finally made it to court. As he stepped closer to the royal brood, Aemond got a look of his cousin’s eyes.

Purple eyes, a dragon indeed.

Aegon hadn’t been able to shut up about their new cousin. Questioning how he would be like, how’d he look. If he was good as sparing. By the sound of it his brother was determined to befriend their cousin.

Of course he would. Aegon preferred anyone else’s company who wasn’t Aemond. A twat was what Aegon used to describe. It had once stung deeply in the boys heart that his brother was so mean to him. Now he’s just accepted that it’ll probably always be that way between them.

A masculine voice broke his thoughts.

“Your grace.” Ser Gerold and his ward bent the knee.

King Viserys broke into a small laugh.

“Arise arise! Ser Gerold it is great to see you again my Lord.” They shook hands, both smiling kindly. Ser Gerold Stepped back nudging his ward forward. The Heir of Runestone tripping slightly. His cheeks turning pink.

Viserys’s gave a large grin. “My dear boy, how I’ve longed to see you!”

The boy couldn’t react having been engulfed into a big bear hug. He pat his king awkwardly on his back. The king lets go.

Aemond saw that his mother and Rhaenyra shared a look. Probably to see who can sink their claws into the boy the fastest.

“Your grace, thank you for inviting us to the capital.” His voice juvenile.

Aemond could tell his cousins voice is going through that transition of sounding like a boy to man.

“You’re always welcome here nephew!” He put his only hand on the boys shoulder. “And I am uncle to you! Not your grace.”

Rhaegar responding with a small nod and shy smile. Aemond narrowing his eyes slightly. This boy was the son of Daemon Targaryen. The Rogue Prince was said to be arrogant and have a snark to him. Rhaegar on the other hand had the demeanor of a scared calf. Always glancing towards Ser Gerold for reassurance.

The King began to introducing his family to his only nephew. Starting of with Rhaenyra, slighting the queen as always.

Rhaegar bowed stiffly “It is an honor to make your acquaintance princess.”

Aemond’s sister gave a tight smile. “Same to you cousin.” It felt cold.

Aemond knew the Heir of Runestone felt it too. The rest of blacks were introduced.

Now it was the greens turn. “My wife Queen Alicent.” Rhaegar bowed again though Aemond noticed it was just as stiff as the one he gave Rhaenyra.

“Welcome to King’s Landing dear. I hope you enjoy your time here.” Aemond knew his mother well. She didn’t mean a word she said.

“Thank you my Queen.” He replied simply.

It’s Aemond’s sister Helaena who really steals the show. Before he or Aegon could be introduced Helaena made her presence known.

“You have black hair” she blurted out in a dreamy voice.

Aemond and the rest of his family share a look shock.

“Yes I do.” Rhaegar said as he touched strand instinctively.

“It’s lovely. I’m Helaena.” The boy blushed turning as red as a cherry tomato.

“Ahh… thank you. That’s a lovely neckless princess.”

Helaena gave her signature dreamy smile.

“I made it myself. Do you really like it?”

Aemond scowled, since when did Helaena converse with people so easily?

He noticed the King looking at the pair as if he was content to hear them chatting.

”I like the spider bit.” He smiled while pointing at the crystal blue spider gem. The two seemingly lost in their own little world.

“Let’s head inside and we can break our fast together. Meanwhile the help can take your belongings to your quarters.” The king suggested.

They all agree. The King walks first calling upon Ser Gerold and Prince Rhaegar to walk with him.

“Seems like our cousin is weird one too. What a shame.” Aegon whispered into Aemond’s ear. The younger prince rolling his eyes at the statement.

“He was just being nice to Helaena.”

Aegon scrunching his nose says “He’ll figure out she’s a freak sooner or later.”

That earned him a smack upside the head by their mother. Who was glaring daggers at her firstborn.

“Mother!” Aegon squealed in an un-princely fashion.

“May I say you look more lovelier than ever.”

Their mother pinched his ear. Not strongly but just enough to make her point.

“Anymore comments about your sister and I will lock you in the Sept for your whole training session again!” She says with a small growl.

The horror in Aegon’s eyes is almost comical. It made Aemond laugh a bit. Surely if his brother stepped foot into their Sept he’d burst into flames.

“You won’t hear another word out me mother.” Aegon promised her.

The queen and second son share a knowing look. Aegon couldn’t keep his trap shut to save his life.

They made their way to the private dinning hall. Everyone taking their seat. Aemond waited until everyone was seated to find his spot. To his surprise the only seat available was one next to his new cousin. Aemond made his way to him, sitting down carefully.

“Prince Aemond” Rhaegar said with a kind smile.

Aemond gave a shy one back “Cousin” noticing a bracelet the black haired boy had. It had interesting inscriptions carved into them.

“You’re bracelet is interesting cousin. Say what are those marking for?” Aemond asked inquisitively.

Rhaegar ran his thumb over the carvings. “It’s an ancient rune used for protection.” He took it off and handed it to the younger boy. “It’s the written language of the Firstmen.”

Aemond thought the bracelet interesting. Though he had to admit his knowledge on the Firstmen is lacking.

“I’ll have read up on Firstmen history. To my disappointment I don’t know much about their history.”

Rhaegar hummed in thought. “There’s a book I brought from my library back home. It’s about different clans of the Firstmen. I could let you borrow it if you’d like?”

Aemond’s small smile grew into a full grin. “You like to read cousin?”

Rhaegar nodding enthusiastically. “Aye. Mostly history books. But I do enjoy a good epic from time to time.”

Aemond agreed.

The prince’s tender heart soaring. Maybe just maybe, he’s finally met someone who’s willing to be his friend.

That’s all Aemond has ever wanted. To have a friend.

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

[witchofthescions]

Erna tugged the borrowed tunic around her as she made her way into the Rising Stones. Nails picked absentmindedly at the fabric as half-formed thoughts chased themselves around her head. She wasn't sure what she'd say when she showed up. "Sorry I almost died?" "Tales of my death were greatly exaggerated?" "Hey, Tataru, can you make me a new shirt because my old one got kinda destroyed."

It didn't take long for someone to notice her striding into the establishment. And it didn’t take long for her remaining friends to gather around.

And it especially didn’t take long for Tataru to come barreling over to her, arms held up for a hug. Erna barely had time to kneel down before the lalafell leapt into her arms and hugged her tight.

"Oh thank the gods you’re safe." Tataru buried her face against Erna’s shoulder. "I was so worried that you’d..."

Tataru held her a little tighter, her voice dropping to a whisper. "That you’d been taken from us, too."

Erna said nothing, simply squeezing her friend back. They stayed that way for a few moments. Hoary Boulder knelt down and hugged the both of them (and for a moment Erna felt a twinge of longing, wishing it was her own brother) before Tataru finally pulled back, gesturing for Erna to place her on the ground. She wiped her face, one last sniffle getting through before she regained her composure.

"What happened out there? I’ve heard bits and pieces, but... but I’d rather hear it all from you."

Erna launched into a recounting of the events that day, wrapping up with her conversation with the mystery caller. The others all listened intently, wearing different looks of concern.

"'The better path leads you here,' huh?" Tataru repeated, frowning. “And you said he seemed familiar, somehow?”

"Yeah. Like... like I’d met him before somewhere, but fuck if I can remember where or when."

"What could you make out of his features?" Hoary asked. Erna shrugged.

"Not much. He was wearin' robes and a hood. All I could make out was patches of pale skin, but that don't exactly mean much, considering how many folks I've met are pale as sheets." She punctuated the point by gesturing towards some of the assembled Scions who, of course, were very much on the paler side of the spectrum.

"Whoever he is, if he's really the same person who's been contacting you this whole time, then perhaps the others are with him." Tataru lowered her head, momentarily lost in thought. "The fighting's hit a stalemate, according to Ser Aymeric, but... but if that monster in Zenos's skin comes back, you're going to need everyone's help." She raised her head and fixed Erna with a stern look. "And I forbid you from going to face him on your own. Do you hear me? So if you must leave... Go and find the others. Bring them home."

Tataru's eyes welled up again as she looked at her, and Erna couldn't help but shy away like a chastened child. But she smiled back at her friend, and nodded in reassurance.

"I will. I promise I will."

Tataru smiled back. "Good. I'm holding you to that!" She sniffled and wiped her eyes. "Now, you said he'd left a beacon for you at the Crystal Tower? But how are you to find it when the tower has been sealed shut?"

"Hells if I know." Erna shrugged.

"Well, if anyone's likely to know a way, it's Cid and the researchers at Saint Coinach's Find," Tataru said, nodding to herself. She fixed Erna with a determined grin. "Don't you worry. We'll find that beacon for you!"

Cheers erupted amongst the other assembled Scions. Erna looked around, somewhat surprised at the show of solidarity.

You know... other people don't really come to our aid that often, do they?

No, not like this at least. It was... refreshing to have so many people ready and willing to help her for a change. Usually it felt like she and her team were on their own.

But that's never really been the case, has it? Fray mused. The other Scions have always had our backs. And we've had plenty of other allies besides, both from our own star and from across the multiverse.

Fray was right. She was never truly alone. Not when she had so many allies to draw upon. How could she have ever thought otherwise?

"Oh, right, before I set out to speak with the researchers," Tataru said, bringing Erna out of her musings. "I have something for you!"

She disappeared behind her desk as the Scions dispersed, and came back with an armload of clothes and beaming ear to ear.

"I made these for you." She held the bundle out to Erna, who took them with a measure of excitement. "And I had Nero make you a custom weapon that I think you'll appreciate." Tataru beamed up at her dear friend. "Happy belated nameday." Erna scooped Tataru up into another hug. "Thank you, Tataru! You're the best."

"Thank you!" Tataru squeezed her back. "I wish I could see how those clothes fit on you, but I'm afraid I should be going. The sooner I contact them, the sooner we can find that beacon, after all. But you must show me how it all looks once I get back!"

"Oh, you bet!"

"Good!" Tataru smiled again. "Oh, but! I want you to get some rest while we work, do you hear me?" Erna was a little taken aback, and it must have shown on her face because Tataru put her hands on her hips and gave her a stern look back.

"I know what you're like, young lady. Did you leave with the chirurgeon's permission, or did you sneak out against their express wishes?"

Ernastral's gaze drifted away from Tataru and towards a particularly interesting formation in the ceiling. Oh, would you look at that, how absolutely fascinating.

"I thought so. That's why I'm going to strongly encourage you to stay here and rest. Do you hear me? Rest."

"Alright, alright, I'll get some rest. After I try on your new outfit."

Tataru giggled. "Perfect! Well then, I shall see you later!"

Tataru gave her one last wave, and then marched off to see to her own tasks. Erna watched her leave, then took a moment to examine the clothes she'd just been given. There was a cute pleated skirt, some really nice looking boots, a crop top shirt, and a really nice looking jean jacket. The latter caught her attention the most. She'd never seen anything like it before. Sure, she had a pair of jean pants, and those were nice, but she didn't realize you could make that material into a jacket.

We have to put this on right now.

No, she was going to find somewhere private to change first, and then she was going to put the whole outfit on. She wasn't just going to put on the jacket without trying on the rest of the clothes Tataru made.

Alright, fair enough. Let's see how this all looks, then.

[tokiro07]

Undead Unluck ch.160 thoughts

[Right in the Unfeels]

This is gonna be another busy week, but I’ve landed myself a day off, so before things get busy, I’m gonna try to knock out both of my reviews in one go

With this chapter, we’ve concluded the Unfeel arc, at least barring the falling action that we may get next week. I expect that it will either resolve Gina and Sean’s breach of Fuuko’s trust, establish Phil’s dynamics with the rest of the Union members individually (specifically Nico, probably) or elaborate on how Unfeel has changed between loops, if not all three (Tozuka does love to do plot points in sets of three as we’ve determined)

We see the Entruster does in fact shapeshift to match the needs of the user, not incorporating material from its environment as I suggested last week. Honestly that seems like a pretty understandable tradeoff; a powerful and utilitarian yet seemingly fragile automaton that basically costs a person to activate. It’s cruel, as everything else in UU, but you receive probably the most convenient and versatile power available

I did consider from the elevator scene that the aliens were weak to shear stress (though I didn’t know the term), since the door hit it from both sides, I just didn’t think about it beyond that point. I think I would have liked just a little more analysis of why it works, maybe cus of the shape or make-up of the shell, but we got a demonstration of the weakness and the payoff, and that’s really all we need for something that’s not central to the story

Phil recreates his sacrifice from Loop 100, breaking his body to help his friends, but this brings up the question of if he’s willing to go so far because Unfeel erases his fear and inhibition or because he is in fact afraid of losing those he cares about. I’m inclined to think the former logistically, but I think that may have only been the case in the previous loop, and the latter in this one. I don’t have much to base that on, but until Tozuka elaborates on the specifics of Unfeel, I choose to believe that Phil has managed to retain autonomy that he didn’t have before and can act on the fact that he cares about his friends instead of just doing what he’s told or acting solely based on logic

When Phil was helping to cool the railgun in the battle against Sun, you may recall that I suggested Gina’s presence would be helpful for maintaining the railgun without needing to use Phil; I maintain that is the case, but it never occurred to me that Gina could use Unchange to maintain Phil too! I guess because I thought at least his torso was biological, so now that we know his whole body is artificial, it makes perfect sense that Gina can use Unchange on Phil and Entruster

Once again, we get a lot of excellent two-page spreads, but easily the best in the chapter is the rainbow over the crew as they emerge safely from the pod. Phil’s mom and Sean crying with joy, Nico and Creed sharing a smoke, Gina holding up Phil’s smile, and Fuuko and Phil giving each other a thumbs up. It seems like Phil is just copying Fuuko, but the fact that he keeps doing it even after Gina lets go of his hand is so sweet and cute

In some ways, this arc went exactly as I thought it would in the broadest strokes, but in the specifics I was pretty much wrong about the whole thing. Sean didn’t drift off into space, Nico didn’t interact much if at all with Phil, we didn’t get a comparison between this and Phil’s last loop, and Creed...might as well not have been here

Actually, that’s an interesting little lesson in story utility. The decision to bring Creed on the mission was a part of the meeting between Fuuko, Nico and Billy, a moment that was meant to illustrate the different perspectives of the group and the coming together of the old Union, new Union and Under in a sense. Gina was left out because of the events of the previous arc, so Creed’s inclusion was a logical one, but it’s clear from this chapter that Gina was always meant to be on the mission and Creed’s involvement was only meant to give her an obstacle to overcome along the way. This obstacle necessitated that Gina join forces with Sean, which allowed him an extra moment or two of development both in his abilities and character. Even though Creed didn’t contribute anything directly, his presence facilitated both Sean and Gina’s character moments without feeling like he was necessarily out of place. To maximize this type of storytelling tool, though, it would have been nice to have one such moment for Creed himself, maybe with some kind of change to Undecrease or a moment with Creed calling out Gina and Sean for insubordination; he’s a military leader, it would have made perfect sense for him to be the one to be most offended by their actions. Creed calling into question Fuuko’s leadership abilities after that moment could have also been used to reinforce Nico and Billy’s decision to elect her leader of the mission and her role as leader of the Union as a whole. They needed to coordinate Gina’s Unchange to dock anyway, that little bit of extra tension putting pressure on Sean to help would have gone a really long way without adding much padding to the arc

Not to harp on what could have been for too much longer, but since Gina was the one to help Phil in the climax, I think it would have been good for her to have had some kind of interaction with him earlier. Whether it was feeling sympathy because she lost her grandmother and didn’t want Phil to lose his mother or because she noticed the change from him losing his emotions to Unfeel and not wanting Phil’s world to change, some kind of emotional anchor to connect the two of them would, again, have served the story extremely well

Please do not take these notes as an indication that I don’t like this chapter or arc. I felt the exact level of joy and catharsis that I’ve come to expect from Tozuka’s work, I just saw some holes both in the setup and payoff that I personally would have liked filled. I understand that the weekly format’s speed and page limitations are likely contributing factors to this, I just think it’s also useful to keep track of these sorts of things if for no other reason than that I can learn lessons from it for my own writings in the future

As I said earlier, I expect we’ll have some falling action next week to wrap up this arc and transition into the next, so if we’re lucky, a couple of these minor issues will be addressed there, but even if they’re not, this arc accomplished the one thing it really needed to: endearing us to Phil. That’s all it wanted to do, and it did it with flying colors

We are left on a bittersweet note knowing that he’s lost his emotions as his mother feared, so hopefully next week will resolve that if nothing else

See y’all then!