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fear-is-truth · 2 days ago

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⋆𐙚 ₊ no nut november .ᐟ

ft. tate langdon ‧ kit walker ‧ kyle spencer ‧ jimmy darling ‧ james march ‧ kai anderson ‧ peter maximoff

tate langdon ── 11/04

acts like he’s on board with the challenge at first, but it doesn’t take long for the strain to start showing. he’s not used to this level of restraint—especially when it’s you asking him.

managed to make it a few days but is visibly frustrated whenever he sees you, especially if you’re walking around wearing his sweater, licking a lollipop or basically just breathing and existing.

makes whiny complaints about how pointless this is. absolutely tries to cop a feel here and there.

after you caught him jerking off into your panties, he tries to convince you to just drop the whole idea so he can fuck you properly.

if all else fails, tate will try to initiate when you’re half-asleep. you’ll wake up to find him sidling closer, hands roaming, whispering in your ear about how “you can’t really mean this.”

it’s only day four, and tate’s already driving himself (and you) crazy. he trails behind you through every room in the house, whining about how “this whole challenge is fucking stupid.” and “what’d you expect me to do when you’re at school, huh? can’t even jerk off,” he complains, dragging his feet as he follows you into the kitchen. you laugh a little, shaking your head as you reach for a glass of water.

“it’s not that hard, tate. you’ll be fine,” you tell him, but you can feel his eyes trailing down, settling on your legs and the edge of your sundress.

“yeah?” before you can react, he’s wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing his chest to your back and pulling you close. he’s warm, and his hands slide down to rest on your hips, pulling you back against him. you can feel him grinding slowly, enough to make you feel the hard outline of his cock press against your ass.

“tate,” you warn, but he just huffs in indignation, burying his face in your shoulder. “you’re killing me, is that what you want?” he whines, but you reach back and give him a gentle shove, slipping out of his arms. “you’re already dead, tate.” he watches you, eyes shiny with hurt and longing before shoving his hands in his pockets and sulking off.

kit walker ── 11/15

kit genuinely tries, especially since you’re the one who proposed the challenge, but it’s hard. he’s always been affectionate and has a naturally high sex drive, so this test of willpower isn’t easy for him.

he’s restless and a little grumpy, occasionally making passing comments like, “don’t know how you expect me to do this” with a plaintive sigh that make it clear he’s barely holding it together.

kit has been sitting at the kitchen table for the past half hour, cigarette in hand, eyes locked on you the entire time as you’re working on a blueberry pie. it’s been two long weeks of restraint, and he’s been doing his best to keep his promise—but right now, watching you bustle around while wearing a apron, he feels his patience slipping.

finally, he stands, moving to the window above the sink and pulling open the blinds just enough to check the yard. outside, the kids are laughing and running, entirely preoccupied. satisfied, he lets the blinds fall back into place, turning his attention fully on you.

you look over your shoulder as he steps up behind you, that barely concealed hunger in his eye. “you hungry?” you ask, feigning innocence as you press the last bit of dough into the pie tin. he huffs a low laugh, his hands already slipping around your waist. “mhm. you can say that. not for pie, though.” he murmurs, voice vibrating against your cheek.

you raise an eyebrow, half-smiling as you remind him, “i thought you were trying to hold out.” kit lets his hands settle on your hips, pulling you back against him. “i was,” he says, dropping his head to press a kiss just below your ear, “but i don’t think i can keep it up anymore. i’ve been watchin’ you all afternoon, and all i can think about is you.”

his lips trail slowly along your neck as his fingers trace along the curves of your ass. “the kids’ll be fine outside,” he coos. “think it’s time i tapped out of this whole challenge,” and before you can protest, his mouth is on yours, firm and warm, every bit of his two-week restraint unraveling.

pre death .ᐟ kyle spencer ── completed

self control king. his frat brothers are amazed he’s lasted, even with all their attempts to sabotage him.

they constantly send him twitter porn links, show him porn mags or try to bribe you to help make him crack. but kyle doesn’t even budge.

you still have your daily cuddling routine, and he eats you out regularly because he’s a selfless boyfriend.

kyle’s fraternity decided to make a big deal out of the “no nut november trend”. they all took the challenge together, but one by one, his frat brothers dropped out, and by week four, kyle’s the last man still standing. you watch your boyfriend with a mix of admiration and slight frustration. it’s not that you want him to give in; it’s just… maybe you wouldn’t mind if he wanted to, at least a little.

you’re sitting with him in his room one night, the faint buzz of a party downstairs, but kyle’s paying it no mind. he’s stretched out on his bed, flipping through a class notebook, looking completely unbothered. you watch him for a moment, then sighs.

“kyle, i don’t know how you do it,”

he smiles, rubbing the back of his neck. “what can i say? i’ve got a will of steel.” he glances back down at his notes.

“so… when december starts, are you still planning on being all celibate and zen?”

he chuckles, his cheeks going a little pink. “not gonna lie, i’m already counting down the hours,” he admits, leaning in closer. “because the second november ends, i’m not holding back. if i survived this month, trust me—destroy dick december will be a breeze.”

you can’t help but laugh, and he leans in to give you a quick kiss, his hand finding yours. “but hey,” he says, voice softer, “it’s only easy because you make it worth waiting for.”

jimmy darling ── 11/06

initially tries to go along with the challenge because he respects you and doesn’t want to disappoint you.

but he’s also someone who thrives on touch, so it’s practically torture for him from the start.

you’ll catch him staring at you, and he gets visibly antsy, especially if you’re wearing something cute or revealing.

six days. that’s how long jimmy manages to last. he tries to keep his promise to you, he really does, but it’s no use. every time he sees you around the camp, especially when you’re dressed up in a leotard for a performance or just leaning close to help him with something, he gets that look in his eyes—hungry, smoldering, and unabashedly lustful.

it’s late, and you’re walking past jimmy’s caravan while carrying a basket of laundry when he finally snaps. he’s been watching you from afar, arms crossed and brows furrowed, looking like he’s pissed off about something. when you catch his eye, he’s already standing up and moving toward you like a missile.

“i can’t take this anymore, doll,” he whined, his breath reeking with the unmistakable smell of alcohol. “six days—feels like six damn years.” you laugh, shaking your head.

“jimmy, i told you it was just a challenge,” you tease, trying to keep a straight face. but he’s not having it. his hands settle on your waist, pulling you flush against his chest before he leans in, forehead resting against yours. “don’t care about any stupid fucking challenge. only care about you. i need you so bad,”

afterward, jimmy lets out a deep, satisfied sigh, resting his chin on your shoulder as you both try to catch your breath. slowly, he lets you slide back down to the ground, his arms loosening just enough for you to find your footing, though he doesn’t fully let go. you feel his lips press a lingering kiss to your neck, a lazy smirk spreading across his face.

“guess i lost,” his thumb rubbing small circles into your waist. he leans in closer, brushing his nose against yours. “but hell if it wasn’t worth it.”

james patrick march ── 11/24

james has self-control in spades, especially when it comes to his (ex) wife, elizabeth, who has often denied him for months at a time. so, he actually handles this challenge far better than you’d expect.

he channels his frustration elsewhere, like into his “hobbies” (aka his killing sprees around the hotel), which spike significantly during this time. murder brings him a similar orgasmic thrill, and he relies on that to keep himself satisfied.

despite the restraint, he never makes you feel pressured. james will hold your hand, kiss you chastely on the cheek, and even give you sweet little compliments, but that’s the extent of it.

you look up just as james steps into the room, wiping his hands with a bloodstained handkerchief, black eyes alight with the usual post-slaughter exhilaration. “ah, my darling,” he greets, voice smooth yet edged, like a blade still warm from a kill. your gaze falls to his hands, and he notices, lifting them for his own inspection. “a bit messier tonight, i’ll admit,” he murmurs with a sigh, dabbing at his knuckles, though the effort seems half-hearted.

“not even a night of indulgence can quiet the… urges you stir in me.”

he steps closer, fingers brushing your cheek, leaving the faintest trace of crimson on your skin. his hand lingers, flexing, as if he’s holding himself back. you smirk, leaning in to brush a kiss to his lips, there’s a metallic tang to it. james shudders, his hand bracing itself on the back of the couch, jaw clenching as if he’s struggling to restrain himself.

“is it really that difficult? i think you’re being a bit dramatic, dear.” the lilting coo of your voice, the sadistic intent behind it makes his cock twitch painfully in his trousers.

“you’re… tormenting me, truly,” he sighs in frustration. “this damnable month. all the blood in the world can’t satisfy what i truly crave.”

cult leader .ᐟ kai anderson ── completed

while some people might perceive him as a total sex fiend, kai has the self-discipline to pull this off easily, and he sees it as an experiment in control, something to elevate his focus.

claims that refraining from ejaculation is actually a tool for enhancing testosterone and will lecture the entire cult on the “benefits” of nnn. also brings up the heaven’s gate cult’s abstinence rule as a form of enlightenment and compares his self-control to “channeling energy for a higher purpose” (everyone knows that’s a load of bullshit)

you start trying to tempt him halfway through, wearing something a bit more revealing around him, but he just smirks, unaffected. the challenge you proposed to him feels almost trivial, which makes it all the more frustrating for you.

however, the second it’s december 1st, he flips. he’s at your door right at midnight, and you won’t be able to walk for a week.

kai’s taking no nut november in stride—too much stride, actually. you were the one who suggested it, but now his calm, unaffected attitude is starting to get under your skin. every time you attempt to seduce him, he gives no reaction.

when kai walks in your shared bedroom, you’re lounging in bed, legs spread wide open, wearing nothing but a tight white turtleneck sweater. he glances over, eyebrow raised. for a second, his gaze lingers on your hardened nipples straining against the fabric. then he just smirks, looks you up and down, and goes to grab his bottle of adderall without a word.

“really?” you ask, annoyed, but he just snorts. “nice try,” he says over his shoulder as he walks away. the days drag on, each one more frustrating than the last as he remains completely unmoved, almost like a silent “fuck you”.

finally, on november 30th, you’ve just about resigned yourself to defeat. you’re in bed, pulling the covers over yourself, when you hear footsteps in the hallway. you glance at the clock—it’s just turning from 23:59 to midnight, the start of december. you barely have a second to process it before your bedroom door swings open, and there he is, standing in the doorway with that same dark look in his eyes, only this time, there’s nothing holding him back.

“miss me?” he asks as he steps inside and closes the door behind him.

peter maximoff ── 11/08

he’ll try every trick in the book—whining, pouting, seduction, and even half-joking about “what if my balls burst?” “you’re actually gonna let me suffer like this?”

on day eight, peter’s pretty much losing his mind. he’s sprawled out on the couch, groaning dramatically every few minutes, tossing his head back as if he’s in physical pain.

“this is torture,” he complains, looking at you with big, desperate eyes. “what’d i ever do to deserve this? my balls are gonna burst,”

you just laugh, shaking your head as you unwrap a lollipop. “you’ve gone without it for a day over a week, peter. you act like it’s been a lifetime,” you tease, popping the candy into your mouth with a grin.

his eyes follow the movement, and his whole expression changes, growing intense in a way that’s unlike his usual playful self. for a second, he’s silent, watching you suck on the lollipop like it’s the final straw. “okay, i’m not gonna survive this,” he mutters, voice a bit rough.

in the blink of an eye, he’s disappeared, zipping down the hall. you hear the bathroom door slam shut, followed by a muffled, frustrated groan from the other side.

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littlemagicalstardust · 3 days ago

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November is Diabetes Awareness Month A few years ago during his days in WWE, The Conglomeration's Kyle O'Reilly opened up about having diabetes. Here's what he said: "I’ve never been super candid or vocal about living with type 1 diabetes but since November is Diabetes awareness month I figured it was my responsibility to share some things that may help somebody else. This device on my arm is a continuous glucose monitor and it is basically my life line. I know how hard it can be living with diabetes. Injecting insulin or constantly stabbing your finger to test your blood at what always seems to be the prime inopportune moment. There are so many variables that make living with this disease difficult and every day is a struggle to maintain healthy blood sugars. I’ve been inspired recently by Chris Ruden and Kyle Kondoff two guys who are very comfortable in their skin and are very open about living with type 1 diabetes. I’ve been reminded that nobody has to travel this road on their own and having a support system is critical in diabetes management. Although there is no cure, medical technology continues to advance and having the EversenseCGM become a part of my life has really changed the game for me. I know how self conscious one can be with pump wires hanging out of your shirt or having to draw and inject insulin in the middle of a crowded restaurant, but that’s life. And having this device makes me feel like a cyborg which is cool too. If you or somebody you know struggles with this disease you’ve got someone cheering you on. If you care for a child with diabetes let them know they can achieve anything. Doctors told me a career in pro-wrestling would be impossible. I’m an NXT tag-team champion now. This is a mental grind as much as it is a physical grind and take each day with a new perspective and chance to be better than you were yesterday." As well, from a different interview, if you're curious about how he manages things: "On days where I’m on TV it seems like my insulin doesn’t really work. I think that’s cortisol and stress doing its thing. As soon as I’m done and I can settle back down it works again. Typically before matches I tend to run pretty high, but I think that beats the alternative of having a low. We all know what can happen there. So I have to be a little comfortable being high going into the ring. I might get a little more tired at the time, but I can manage that. As soon as I come back through the curtain, I take insulin."

#aew #throwback #diabetes awareness #kyle o'reilly #the conglomeration #interesting #today i learned #pro wrestling #inspration

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eternal-evergreens · 24 hours ago

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｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧"Into the looking glass - III"｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

Post format: Multipart series

Pairing: Yandere!Male!DoL x Fem!Isekai!Reader

Word count: 5.1k

Synopsis: You gain the chance to wake up in the world of one of your favorite games. Unfortunately, the 'favorite game' happens to be one about rape, violence, and stalking. Not only that, but the game seems to be rigged against you. All you want is to find a way home and put this all behind you, but is that even possible...?

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Attempted Non/Con, Drugging, Attempted Kidnapping, Stalking

Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible

No, no. Not happening. Never.

You need money. But you won’t get it through unscrupulous means. You still have your morals, and you’ll abide by them. That’s why you saved Kylar. That’s why you’d save him again, should it happen in the future.

You push the thought out of your mind and exit the temple. As you pass by Danube Street, a thought hits you.

The spa. Why haven’t you been working at the spa?

It’s not really an early-game option due to the stat checks required, but those shouldn’t be a problem for you. With your hand skill at C by default and your beauty over the max, working as a masseur is as simple as walking up and asking for work.

You head over and ask for work, and the lady at the front desk takes one look at your hands and gasps. Her bored demeanor quickly melts away into an excited one as she quickly shows you the ropes. You get the basics down pretty quickly and soon take your first client, a trim woman who looks to be in her early 30s.

“Hello, I’ve not done this before. Do I just lie down?” That makes two of us, you think to yourself.

“That’s right! Just lie down, and I’ll take care of the rest,” you say, smiling. The trim woman seems reassured and quickly lies down on the table. You get to work on her shoulders and neck first, cautiously looking for knots and tension as you knead her muscles. The woman relaxes under your touch and begins to make small talk. She tells you about her family, how her kids are both bright young boys, and her husband brings her flowers every month. She seems really happy. -Trauma -Stress

She leaves you a tip. You make £75.

Your next client is less friendly, but you manage to massage her without incident. She leaves you a tip. You make £80 and decide to take a break, feeling a little worn out from standing on your feet for nearly two hours straight. After fifteen minutes, you get up and head back into the spa, where you take on another two clients. They both leave tips, and you make £120. The spa closes after that, and you head outside.

Someone throws a water balloon at you from a nearby car, soaking your shirt and leaving it near-invisible. You hear cheers as they speed away, leaving you soaked out in the open. +Stress

You look around, but luckily, no one is around to see your predicament. You cover yourself with your arms as best as you can and head home. You take the alleys to avoid passersby seeing you, walking quickly in hopes of getting home sooner. You don’t watch where you’re going and end up walking right into someone.

“Watch where you’re going, you—!” You look up, about to apologize, when you see icy blue eyes staring back at you. It’s Whitney, his face, only inches from yours, changes from anger to a smug smile.”Well, what do we have here? A slut all out on her own?” Whitney’s friends giggle.

“Why is she walking around so exposed?” One delinquent asks. “Is she a pervert?” They giggle, crowding around you.

“I wanna get a picture!” Soon, all the delinquents are pulling out their phones. Suddenly torn between the desire to cover your face and your chest, you end up hiding behind the thing closest to you, which ends up being Whitney. He seems taken aback but soon wraps an arm around you protectively. +Love

“Fuck off,” he says, arm still around your waist. “Get your own slut.” The others seem disappointed but comply regardless. When everyone’s phone has been put away, Whitney releases you and shrugs off his jacket.

“Can’t fuck a sick person,” he says, throwing his jacket over you. “Make sure to give it back. Now fuck off.” He shoves you out of the alleyway, leaving you stunned. Did that really just happen?

You check your phone.

Whitney The Bully Whitney wants to own you. Fascination: 50% Love: 5% Devotion: 0% Dominance: 40% Jealousy: 0% Lust: 100%

You walk home with his jacket wrapped around your shoulders. It smells like smoke.

—————————

It is Thursday, the 8th of September, 2022. -It has been 4 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn. -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £729 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You feel cold Fatigue: You are alert Stress: You are calm Trauma: You are uneasy Control: You are insecure Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

After waking up and finishing your morning routine, you go to Robin’s room and play video games with him for an hour. Some of the games remind you of those you used to play back home. +Love -Trauma +Stress

“It’s almost time for school,” he says. “Do you want to come with me?” You smile and nod. Robin stands up from the bed and puts his controller away. He holds the door open for you as you leave, and you notice a faint blush on his cheeks as you pass. You swear you saw him glance down. +Lust

You’re suddenly reminded that you’re in a yandere game and that Robin is a target character. ++Stress

You grimace as you round a corner and resist the urge to cover your butt as Robin walks behind you. Your skirt is so short he can probably see your underwear as you walk. +++Stress

You see Bailey holding a mousy girl by the arms, a bundle of rope in his other hand.

“You owe me £200 this week,” he says. The girl is holding back tears but still manages to keep a strong look about her. Robin looks away. The other orphans do the same. They all look…resigned. You step forward.

“I’ll pay,” you say. “Let her go.” Bailey raises an eyebrow but releases the girl. You hand over the £200 without fuss. It’s only after parting with the money that you remember you could have just pepper-sprayed him and gained some catharsis. You don’t really need to be stingy with it, after all. Bailey counts the money and leaves, leaving the mousy girl to dust herself off.

“Thank you,” the mousy girl says. “I was really scared.”

“Will you be okay?” You ask her. She nods. She seems genuinely okay.

“Yes, thanks to you. I promise I’ll pay you back for this,” she says, running off.

“You don’t have to!” You call out after her, but she’s already gone.

You did a good thing today. -Trauma -Stress

“That was really impressive,” Robin says. “It’s not often people stand up to Bailey.” You shrug, and Robin cracks a smile. +Love

You and Robin chat on the way to school, mostly about the games you played earlier. There’s a certain glint in his eyes when he looks at you that wasn’t there before. You have to suppress a shiver every time you accidentally meet his gaze. +Stress

“I just don’t understand why they’d make a tutorial so difficult,” Robin says, shaking his head. “Maybe-” He’s cut off by something, eyes widening. You follow his gaze and see two hooded figures approaching rapidly from the alleyway you just passed. You reach for your pepper spray as the figures get closer, unhooking it from its keychain and holding it at the ready.

“It’s her,” one says. You waste no time and spray them both, then grab Robin’s arm and sprint to safety with him. ++Crime (Assault) ++Crime (Assault) +Stress +Fatigue

You don’t stop running until you reach the school gates and are safely behind them. You and Robin pant heavily as you struggle to come down from the adrenaline.

“Where did you get that?!” Robin whisper-yells.

“A kid in my English class makes them,” you say at a normal volume. Robin’s look of concern only grows, and he spends a few minutes lecturing you on the dangers and illegalities of pepper spray. You mostly tune him out.

The bell rings, finally putting an end to Robin’s monologue, and you head to class. You focus on the lesson, and Sirris calls you up to the front of the class. A student uses a ruler to flash your panties to everyone. To make matters worse, Sirris wanted you to undress for the demonstration. You comply, feeling humiliated as the class leers at your body. +++Stress

The bell rings, and you rush out of the classroom. You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you walk. Your ears are ringing, your heartbeat is too loud, the world is spinning, and—

It’s all too much for you. You pass out.

—————————

It is Thursday, the 8th of September, 2022. -It has been 4 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn. -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £529 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You feel cold Fatigue: You are wearied Stress: You are distressed Trauma: You are uneasy Control: You are insecure Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You wake up with something soft yet firm under your head and Sydney right above you.

“You’re awake!” He says. “I was worried. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I brought you back to the library.” “Not the nurse?” You say, getting up. You realize that you’ve been lying on Sydney’s lap. Sydney looks sheepish.

“I didn’t think of that,” he says, not meeting your gaze. He looks genuine, but you get the feeling he’s not being honest. +Awareness

Sydney insists you stay with him for another ten minutes so he can monitor your condition. When you ask about going to the nurse again he makes an excuse of not knowing if you’re good to walk. You decide not to push it any further and spend the next ten minutes chatting with Sydney. When the ten minutes are up, he looks hesitant to let you go but relents regardless. +Love +Lust -Sydney’s purity

By the time you leave, it’s already lunch. You missed two classes. ++Deliquency

Feeling stressed from everything, you decide to sit alone in hopes of relaxing. You should have known better, however, as a group of students soon come by to make your day harder. The second they start jeering at you, you unhook your pepper spray and blast them all in the face. ++Crime (Assault) ++Delinquency +Status

The students are screaming and hurling insults, but the ringing in your ears makes it impossible to hear them. You finish your lunch in silence.

You spend the rest of school zoning out, hoping your stress will subside. It works, kind of.

You have detention, but you don’t feel like going. Considering all the shit you pulled today, Leighton is probably going to take off your clothes and smack you or something. You don’t have good enough grades to know where the tunnel from school is, so you walk out the front. Leighton tries to stop you, but you pepper spray him. ++Crime (Assault) ++Delinquency +Status

A group of students say they’re going to the lake. You could use a change of scenery. You join them. +Status

Hanging out at the lake is fun enough. No one tries to grope you after what happened at lunch, so you end up having a somewhat enjoyable time.

Then they start bullying another student, who thankfully isn’t here to listen to them shit-talking them, and what little fun you were having quickly melts away. You stand up and walk away, deciding to go for a swim instead. You think about retrieving the lichen for your science project but push the thought out of your mind.

You swim for about an hour, and when you exit the water, the sun is already beginning to set. Your fellow classmates are still hanging out, but you don’t really feel like joining them, so you put on your clothes and go for a walk, planning to head back after you’re done.

You hear a bullet firing from afar. Something is hunting you.

Fuck. You whip around, trying to locate the source of the bullet. You heard it shoot from behind you, but you don’t see anyone. Going back the way you came might mean running straight into their arms. You glance around one last time, but a second gunshot has you running on your feet in no time.

You dash through the woods, not bothering to look behind you as the gun fires off in the near distance. You don’t think they’re shooting at you, and running zig-zag like you were taught as a kid just means slowing down. So, you run straight ahead with no clear plan in mind. You unhook your pepper spray again (you should probably thank Kylar), just in case, but you don’t know how much good it will do in a gunfight. Still, something is better than nothing, so you hold onto it, keeping it close to your chest as you run, run, run.

Your foot hits something strange and loses balance. You don’t even have time to process it until you’re lifted upside-down by your heel, face to inverted face with a plant person.

“I caught one!” The plant girl exclaims. “This one’s wearing lacey panties!” You spray her, and she falls, her vines releasing you instantly. It’s only when you see sap pouring out from a hole on the side of her head that you hear the gunshot and realize it wasn’t you that took her down.

“Got you,” Eden says, a hand on your shoulder. You try to turn around, but the second you move, you’re on the ground, nose pressed into the soil, and arms pinned behind you in a painful grip. You feel your pepper spray being torn from your hand and thrown next to a bush.

Shit. Shit!

He’s got you in a submission hold. There’s nothing you can do but go along with it and wait for an opportunity. It takes everything in you not to thrash and scream against his hold, but you know that would only make things worse. Eden runs his hand down your back, stopping when he gets to the hem of your skirt. He flips it up, taking a moment to admire it before giving it a light slap. You jump when he hits you, though it’s more about the surprise than the pain.

“You’re hurting me!” You cry, trying your best to sound helpless. “Please let go!” You weakly struggle against his grip for good measure.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says, voice gruff. “Can’t do that. You’ll run away.”

“I’ll be good! I’ll be good! Please, please, let me go!” You wiggle around, pretending this is as much strength as you can muster up. Eden leans down and studies your expression for a moment. You can feel the outline of his cock on your back as he leans down to look at you. The scrutiny in such a position is near-unbearable, but he releases you without a word.

You force yourself to be still for a moment, not to do anything that would alert him. Then, slowly, you turn around and, mustering up every bit of courage you have, lean up and kiss him. He seems taken aback but soon reciprocates the gesture. You press into him, stroking and massaging his skin as you cautiously lean him back into a more desirable position.

Though it costs you your dignity, you’re eventually able to get on top of him, grinding against him through his pants as you lower him to the ground. When you’ve got him completely below you, and you’re straddling his hips, you break the kiss and pull yourself up.

“I think it's time we get rid of these,” you say, grabbing your panties and lifting your hips, then swaying them suggestively. You shift your weight to one knee and lift your other leg up, then, in a sudden, adrenaline-charged burst of speed, you throw yourself off of him and stagger to your feet. You kick him in the crotch and run towards the bush where your pepper spray landed.

Eden catches your foot, and you nosedive towards the ground. You fall, but pepper spray is just within reach. You grab it and go limp. Eden drags your body closer to his, and you use it as an opportunity to spray him. He grabs his eyes and recoils, and you quickly gather yourself and run back the way you came.

Your clothes snag on bushes and branches as you run, but you pay it no mind as you force yourself to run. You can’t hear anything but the wind in your ears, so you have no idea if Eden is chasing you or not.

Silly you, it shouldn’t have been Eden you were worrying about.

You feel yourself hit the ground before you even register being knocked down. There’s a growling above you and two hands on either side of your body. You twist around, barely even registering the wolf ears and sharp teeth of the man on top of you. You spray him, and he staggers back. You rush to your feet and keep running until you’re safely out of the forest. Your clothes are practically in scraps by the time you’re out, and at this point, you think it’ll be cheaper to just buy new clothes instead of fixing them.

Then, it hits you. The pain and exhaustion.

You drop to your knees, suddenly aware of every scratch, scrape, and bruise you acquired while running through the forest, suddenly aware of the strain on your muscles from the fatigue. You stay sitting for a few minutes, waiting for your muscles to stop hurting or for you to stop caring. When you notice the sun is starting to set, you pull yourself up and drag yourself back home, where you run a bath and then go straight to bed.

—————————

It is Friday, the 9th of September, 2022. -It has been 5 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn. -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £529 Pain: You are upset Arousal: You feel cold Fatigue: You are wearied Stress: You are distressed Trauma: You are nervous Control: You are anxious Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You get up and check your socials on your phone.

Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible Primary relationships: Robin The Orphan Robin wants to be your best friend. Fascination: 100% Love: 5% Devotion: 30% Lust: 40% Confidence: 0% Trauma: 0% Jealousy: 5% Whitney The Bully Whitney wants to own you. Fascination: 50% Love: 10% Devotion: 0% Dominance: 40% Jealousy: 0% Lust: 100% Kylar The Loner Kylar is obsessed with you. Fascination: 100% Love: 9% Devotion: 55% Jealousy: 55% Lust: 90% Sydney The Faithful ? Sydney is conflicted. Fascination: 70% Love: 8% Devotion: 25% Purity: 20% Jealousy: 0% Lust: 70% Avery The Businessman Avery thinks you’re cute. Fascination: 55% Love: 1% Devotion: 0% Jealousy: 0% Dominance: 0% Lust: 30% Rage: 0% Eden The Hunter Eden wants you back. Fascination: 80% Love: 0% Devotion: 0% Jealousy: 0% Dominance: 0% Lust: 100% Black Wolf The Alpha Black Wolf wants to see you again. Reputation: The police consider you a person of interest, and have enough evidence for an arrest. The atmosphere in the orphanage is calm. You are considered a normal student by teachers. Your fellow students desire you. Lust: 100% Status: 60% Sex: Unknown. Prostitution: Unknown. Rape: Obscure. Beastiality: Unknown. Exhibitionism: Obscure. Pregnancy: Unknown. Combat: Low-key. Kindness: Obscure. Business: Unknown. Socialite: Unknown. Overall: Notorious. The townsfolk call you Darling. Those in the criminal underworld call you Darling.

Your eyes hover over your police reputation. You sigh. You’ll have to visit Landry after school. You throw your covers off of you and climb out of bed, groggily going to your wardrobe.

Right. Your clothes got torn. You pick up an undamaged skirt and shirt, tossing the tattered garments into the trash. You put on your clothes and pick up your bag, not bothering to stop by Robin’s room this morning. You take a bus to the shopping center, where you do what you should have done on day one: buy clothes that actually cover you. You browse for a few minutes, looking for something as pervert-proof as possible. You settle on a school blouse, shorts, a sports bra, suspenders, and a pair of work boots.

The shorts provide you protection against people lifting your skirt, the suspenders (which you’ll have to sew on) keep you from being pantsed, the sports bra can’t be unclipped and provides support in case you need to run, and the work boots will help you keep your footing when you need to go to the moor or the woods.

You buy what you’re wearing as well as a few backups of the shorts and shirt, totaling £215. You pay and leave, arriving at school just in time for your science class. Today’s Friday, so you have a chance to improve your grades if you do well on the tests.

The lesson pace is a little different from usual. It’s just a review of everything you’ve learned this week. Nothing new is being covered, so you don’t bother to take notes. Not that you’ve had any time to study your notes since coming here.

The test is easy enough, despite your terrible study habits, and you manage to improve your grade to a D. -Stress

The rest of the day continues similarly, and soon you have D’s all across the board. --Stress

You go to the pub after school, looking around for a thin man or woman with black hair and a grey sweater. You feel a hand on your shoulder and turn your head. It’s a tall man you’ve never seen before. He’s covered in tattoos.

“You’ve been busy,” he says, booze on his breath. “Don’t think I don’t recognize you. You’re the talk of the town. Bit surprising not seeing you being fucked raw, though.” His grip on your shoulder tightens. “I reckon it’s time I got my slice of the pie. You like it rough, right? That’s what I’ve heard. Come ‘ere, sweetheart.”

“Am I interrupting?” You hear a man’s voice, and the tall man’s hand on your shoulder loses it’s grip. You look over to see the face of your savior and realize it’s the very person you were looking for. Your face shifts to one of relief. -Stress

“Yeah,” he says. “Piss off.”

“I recognize you.”

“You should, I come here more often than I-”

“March 3rd, 2009. Nightingale Street.” The tall man pales. “So you know what I’m talking about. I wasn’t there myself, but I’ve heard the stories. You were the talk of the town.”

The tall man stutters. “Y-you’re not with the fuzz. You won’t turn me in.”

“You don’t know that. And either way, we both know you’re not hiding from the police. So how about you let her go, and I won’t tip off the Elk about your latest haunt.” The tall man looks at you, then Landry, then you again. Landry smiles. He throws his hands off of you.

“Fine. Shit, fine. You her lover? You picked a damn slutty one.” Landry waits until the man is out of earshot before turning to you.

“Come with me,” he says. “I want to talk to you in private.”

“Reputation isn’t always a good thing,” Landry says as you sit down. “Word’s spread about you. You’re notorious. That’s why that drunkard went for you. You remember what he said, right?”

“I haven’t even done anything,” you say.

“No, but you’re pretty while doing it,” Landry retorts. “Not hitting on you,” he says.

“Thanks?”

“It’s not a good thing. You attract attention wherever you go. Where a normal person might have to fuck a hundred people to start getting known as a slut around town, you’d only have to fuck one.”

“Oh,” you say, slinking in your seat. “So, what can I do?”

“I think I can help you,” he pauses. “Well, not me. But I think I know someone. This orphan at the home on Domus Street. A computer whiz. Mickey, or McKay, something like that. Best hope is to find this orphan. If you can get them to come work with me, they’ll be able to hook you up. There’ll be some money in it for you, too. Just don’t step on Bailey’s toes.” You nod.

“Thank you,” you say. Landry smiles.

“There’s another thing, too,” he says. “I’ll be frank. I know you need money. Don’t ask me how I know, word gets around. I think I can help you. If you come across any jewelry or other items you don’t know what to do with, I can take them off your hands. I’ll pay well.” He looks over your shoulder. “As well as can be expected, anyway.”

“Can you help me get the police off my trail?”

“I can help you,” he says, reclining. “But I need you to do something for me. And no, it’s not about money. I was expecting a package, but it never arrived. Good thing I know where to find it, it had a GPS tracker. It got lost somewhere deep in the moor. Get it for me, and I’ll prevent any of your past misdemeanors being pinned on you. It’s a small black box.” You nod and stand.

“Oh, and do be careful,” Landry says. “I don’t believe the tales of monsters, but there’s a sensible reason behind some superstitions.”

You’re already wearing work boots, but you want to wear something that you can afford to tear, too. Preferably something resistant that can protect you. But you don’t have the money for that, so you head back to the orphanage and wear the only other outfit you have, a sundress. You put your pepper spray keychain on your bookbag and take it with you, hoping you won’t run out during this trip.

After double checking everything is in order, you leave the orphanage and begin to make the long trek to the moor.

Several people attempt to pick you up along the way. By which you mean literally every person who passes by you has slowed down to talk and ask where you’re headed. Not willing to risk anything, you turn them all down, running when they get too persistent. By the time you finally make it to the farmlands, you’re exhausted. So you sit down near the entrance to rest, knowing you’ll need your energy for the moor.

“You alright there?” Someone asks. You look up to see a suntanned boy under a straw hat, looking concerned. He looks around your age, with red hair and a boyish appearance. He must be Alex, you realize.

“It was just a really long walk to get here,” you admit sheepishly.

“You walked all the way from town?” You nod. “Well, Jesus! No wonder you’re so tired. Come in and get some water, my place isn’t far.”

“Do you own the farm?”

“Yeah, I do! It’s a work in progress, but it’s home.” You smile.

Alex is right, and it doesn’t take long to reach the cottage, where he offers you a glass of water. You thank him and gulp it down. +++Drugged

…Huh?

You stare at your phone. The screen seems to shift.

Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You feel cold Fatigue: You are wearied Stress: You are calm Trauma: You are nervous Control: You are anxious Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged A lewd warmth fills you Your perception is altered

You look back up to Alex, who’s staring at you with a grin. You stand up but nearly fall. Alex stands with you, his hands on your shoulders.

“Easy, there,” he says as if you’re a horse that needs to calm down. You shove him off of you and run, reaching for your pepper spray, but in your altered state, you can’t figure out how to unhook it.

>Try again (Skullduggery: Impossible) >Rip it off (Athletics: Challenging) >Spray without unhooking (Dance: Very Difficult)

You rip it off, but the fabric holds firm. Alex is close behind you.

>Try again (Athletics: Challenging) >Spray without unhooking (Dance: Very Difficult)

You try again and the fabric doesn’t yield. Alex is right behind you.

>Try again (Athletics: Challenging) >Spray without unhooking (Dance: Very Difficult)

This is taking too long. You spray without unhooking, managing to get Alex, but in your flailing, also manage to spray yourself. +++Pain ++Willpower

You run, you don’t even know where you’re going you just run.

You can’t open your eyes, but you know they wouldn’t be of much help in this state, anyway. You run until you hit what feels like tall grass, then slow. You’re in the moor now.

You try to quiet your breathing as you listen for anything that may be chasing you or lying in wait. You hear nothing. You go a little further in, just enough to be hidden among the grass and wait.

Eventually, the pain subsides, and you open your bleary eyes. You still feel unsteady, though, so you wait longer. It takes another forty minutes for you to regain full balance and control of your body. When you do, you trudge deeper into the moor, relying on the map on your phone to guide you to the box. After what feels like two hours of searching, you finally find the box across from some water.

You grimace as you step in, your shoes and socks instantly soaking with dirty water. The water is about knee-high, so not enough to touch your sundress but just enough to make movement heavily uncomfortable. You hobble over the box, just about to reach it, when you feel something suck you in.

You look behind you and recognize the thing as a lurker. You waste no time and spray it, freeing yourself and grabbing the box before leaving.

Of course, nothing is ever that simple, and just as you leave the water, you see a terrible shadow overhead. You look up and notice a harpy in the sky. You are being hunted.

You start to run. Your pursuer approaches rapidly. ++Stress

You run faster, pushing yourself to your limits as you sprint across the moor. But luck is never on your side, and your foot sinks into something as you land. You look down, and it’s a fucking foxhole. Not big enough for you to run through or hide in. You pull yourself out, but it’s too late.

“Found wife,” he says. You spray him and keep running. That should keep him out of commission for a while.

Eventually, you feel safe enough to walk the rest of the way out of the moor. You sneak around the farmlands and begin to walk the rest of the way home. You’re too tired to make it very far, however, and soon pass out on the road. You feel yourself being lifted onto a stretcher before passing out again.

You’ve unlocked a fragment.

102 notes · View notes

areyouwell · 1 day ago

Text

Memento Mori

Ch.1

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Warnings: Violence, slight body horror

Word Count: 8.1K

A/N: Took me long enough. New long-fic comin' in from the left! i know i teased this around three weeks ago (ish) but here's chapter one. not sure this is gonna be as long as Phobophobia but i'm really excited about this one. it's a little darker (yeah i know) but i already love this MC. if anyone wants tagging in this pls lmk, i don't wanna assume everyone who i tagged in Phobophobia wants to be tagged again so i'll start a new list <3

Dividers by @/sweetmelodygraphics

“So, as detailed here, there have been a string of these… murders, I suppose.”

Logan sighed heavily. When he woke up this morning, the one thing he didn’t expect was to be called into Charles Xavier’s office so soon after having breakfast, let alone be greeted with grainy photographs of some of the most horrific murder scenes he’d ever had the displeasure of looking at. Entrails, bones, flesh, eyes. None of it was where it should be, which most of the time, seemed scattered around the floor rather than attached to whichever poor, unfortunate soul who’d had the shitty luck of running into their silent assassin. Charles pointed the telescopic stick towards the mangled jacket of one of the equally mangled victims. Logan couldn’t even tell what gender they were, their face nothing but a bloody pulp.

Almost as if it had been exploded from the inside out.

“This symbol here is the only string that connects the murders, and after doing a little digging,” he nodded thankfully to Ororo, her white hair bobbing with her dip of acknowledgement. “We found they all belonged to the same company, here.” With a click of the remote in his hands, the projection flipped to the next slide, a map of San Fransisco, a large red circle drawn around a location Logan was only somewhat familiar with, only because he’d walked past it a few times.

“It’s a warehouse,” he offered, several heads turning to look at him. “I’ve walked ‘round there couple times. Nothin’ special, s’always buzzin’ with life.” He shrugged thoughtfully, tugging a cigar from his jacket pocket and flicking the Zippo lighter open and shut with his other hand. Charles gave him a slightly irritated look, but he pretended not to notice.”So… What? Our killer’s just popping caps in the head’s underpaid workers? Doesn’t make much sense.”

“That’s what we thought too,” Ororo continued, placing down a few pieces of paper and spreading them about the table. “Until we started to notice a pattern. They’ve been picking off specific shift workers, mainly those on the late shift. But it’s never new members of staff either. Always those who’ve worked there for at least two years. Lately, their security has increased, but once they leave work, they’re basically on their own.” Storm took the remote from Charles and clicked to the next slide, a list of names and hours flaring onto the screen, the names of victims having been crossed out, though their hours were still visible on the row of the rota.

“Ya don’t think this has anything to do with that orphanage incident, do you?” Kitty piped up, cupping her mug of tea in both hands, either for comfort or for warmth, Logan couldn’t tell. She had a good point. It must have been around a month ago now. A fire had started downtown in the dead of night. Officials had said it was a discarded cigarette from one of the employees, but that didn’t explain why all the windows and doors had been locked.

Everyone within burned. Children included.

“It’s certainly a theory…” Scott mused, rubbing his hand against his jaw in thought. “A terrible accident sounded far too much like a cover story. Think this killer had something to do with it?”

Charles sighed heavily. “Ordinarily, yes, I’d have some kind of suspicion, if it wasn’t for the fact our killer was elsewhere at the time.” He nodded to Ororo, who clicked the remote once again. “This was taken not an hour beforehand, on the other side of the city. Unless the killer can teleport, there’s no way they could have made it across town in such a short amount of time, let alone take all the precautions and set alight to the building. Though I do not believe it was merely a terrible accident, I don’t believe they had anything to do with it.” Charles finished before Ororo leant over the pages she’d spread on the table, spinning one to face the rest of the team.

“Though we do have this. A pattern of all the attacks and locations,” Logan stood up to skirt around the table, standing between Kitty and Marie as he inspected the red pen. With every X, the attacks almost formed an exact circle around the warehouse, almost as if the killer could predict which ways those victims would take home. Especially after the first attack. “We think the next one will happen here,” Ororo pointed to a side street far between the locations either side. “The most recent one being here, it’s logical to think they’d take the opposite side. At least, that’s what we’re hoping…” She trailed off, and Logan returned to his seat, having an idea as to what this meeting was actually about.

“You want us to lay a trap, right? Trail several employees home and jump in before Killer McGee can get their hands on ‘em.” He clarified, and Charles nodded a little too darkly for his liking.

“Exactly. Which is why I won’t be asking you all on this mission. We need to avoid detection and sending all of us would be too much of a risk. Whoever this is, we must assume they’re a mutant. These attacks happen quickly and viciously, and to cause such damage in such a short amount of time, we must assume they possess some sort of ability.

“Scott, Ororo and Logan, I trust you can handle this task? I will be in Cerebro with Jean on hand, and the rest I want you on standby in the Blackbird in case backup is required.”

“Wait, we’re doing this tonight?” Marie squeaked, casting a wary glance to Kitty who returned her expression. Logan was relieved neither of them would be actively on the mission, he’d come to care for them both deeply, and whilst that didn’t mean he didn’t care for either Ororo or, though he’d never admit it, Scott, he was glad the two girls would be on standby rather than active duty.

“The attacks seem random, as if they flipped a coin to see if they would head out each night, but when you look closer, they’re only on the days the older members of staff are on shift. We think they’re looking for something, or someone, specific.” Ororo explained, pointing back to the projection on the screen. “These three here have been working at this specific warehouse for three, four and seven years respectably,” she clicked the remote again for each of their work ID cards to flash onto the screen. “Scott, you’re tailing Alec,” she gestured to the string bean of a man, blonde hair styled into several spikes atop his head, two silver snakebite piercings adorned his lower lip.

“Logan, you’ve got Manuel, he’s been there for four years,” Logan didn’t think they could have found such a different-looking guy to the previous one if they fucking tried. Manuel was built like a brick shit house, a buzzcut of dark hair dusted the top of his otherwise bald head, ears like fucking cauliflowers. Of course, that’s who he’d be tailing, probably because a punch from this guy would send anyone else across the damn room.

“And I’ll be tailing Henry, he works in the office upstairs but is still very much a likely target. We’re hoping to locate and pin down the killer before their shifts even finish, but in the eventuality The Professor can’t get a lock on them, this is the backup plan. Got it?”

Both Logan and Scott nodded in unison. It didn’t seem too much of a problem mission if this killer was cowardly enough to be picking these guys off one by one, he didn’t think they had much in terms of fighting prowess. Taking an enemy by surprise was the coward’s way out, in his opinion, though he supposed not everybody could heal the way he could.

And taking this killer by surprise was exactly the plan…

Maybe he should rethink his principles.

“Be suited up and ready to head out at ten. Gives us at least an hour to locate and set up.” Ororo gathered the papers on the table, tapping the small stack against the surface before tucking them beneath her arm. “Right, I’ve got a class to teach, pretty sure you do too, Professor.” She turned to Charles who simply smiled and nodded, ending the meeting just like that. With a huff and a stretch, Logan stood from his seat, instantly reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulling out a thick cigar, earning himself a sharp look of disapproval from Xavier, the Professor glancing pointedly to the chilly air beyond the window. Logan knew what he was saying, and usually, he’d tell him to go fuck himself and smoke indoors. But he needed a breath of fresh air after that stuffy, slightly nauseating meeting, and if he could kill two birds with one stone, why wouldn’t he?

With an acquiescing shrug, he shoved his hands in his pockets, turning on his heel to stalk from the boardroom, shoving the door open with his shoulder and almost walking chest first into Jean. His heart skipped a beat or three, lips pulling up into a small smirk to hide the fact he was borderline giddy to be running into her outside the meeting. She’d been the object of his affection ever since he was brought to the mansion and she checked his vitals. He couldn’t help it. There was just something about her he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something that drew him to her the instant he was in her presence. He didn’t find himself thinking of her much outside their interactions, but when they were in the same room, all he could think about was her. It would be frustrating if he cared about anything said in those meetings.

“Watin’ f’me now are ya?” He teased lowly, savouring the way her lips pursed to stop herself from smiling. There were times Logan thought she felt the same magnetic pull toward him that he felt toward her, times like this, where she didn’t look away from his gaze, and entertained his relentless teasing.

“You know Scott’s still in there. We have plans,” she responded, feigning an attempt to look past him and back into the room where Scott was discussing various strategies with the Professor. Logan raised a brow as he followed her wavering line of sight, keeping that brow raised as he looked back at her.

“Plans? Hope you don’t mean dinner, doesn’t look like he’ll be out anytime soon.” If she could just see how terrible Scott was for her. If he could just make her see how he would be so much better. Would suit her better. Would take care of her better. He wasn’t willing to change for many people, but if Jean asked, he would do it in a heartbeat. He’d change himself for her.

“Yes, Logan, dinner plans before the mission. And you know this is a tradition because you comment on it every time.” She huffed, her hair bobbing slightly with every emphatic move of her head. Logan chuckled lightly, his eyes briefly glancing from her gaze to her lips, how perfect they looked, and how perfect they would look wrapped around his–

“Then we both have our little traditions, don’t we? C’mon, doll. Why don’t we stop this dance?” His fingers curled through a strand of her hair, feeling it between his thumb and forefinger. “Haven’t I shown ya I can be the good guy?”

Jean sighed, and Logan half expected her to move away, but instead, she just closed her eyes, shaking her head softly. Was she mournful? Disappointed? It was hard to tell.

“Logan, I don’t–”

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” Scott’s voice slashed through the charged atmosphere between them, and Logan found his hand falling away from Jean’s hair almost instantly.

“We were jus’ talkin’, Scotty.” Logan shot back, trying to keep the defence from his voice. There was no need to let Scott know just how irritated the interruption made him feel.

“Yeah, like hell you were. Back off, Logan. I don’t wanna have to tell you again.” Placing his arm around Jean’s shoulders, Logan couldn’t help but notice the way she shrank slightly, looking almost humiliated. He tensed his jaw. If she hated Scott’s attention this much, she knew what he had to do. Logan didn’t know how much more obvious he could make his interest in her. All she needed to do was take the leap. “Yeah yeah, ‘stay away from my girl’, I know.” He mocked, sending Jean a wink before continuing on his path to the courtyard. Now he really fucking needed that cigar.

The city was so pretty in the twilight. Silhouetted buildings scattered with twinkling lights against a deep blue sky, it almost made up for the lack of stars. And there was nothing like watching the city skyline descend into darkness that had you more prepared than ever for your latest chosen victim. You hadn’t learned nearly as much as you should have by now, nobody you’d tortured knew anything about what you were looking for and it was starting to piss you off. But you didn’t bury those feelings. Instead, you harnessed them. Used your frustration to your advantage and honed yourself like a forged weapon. Every burn of urgent irritation sharpened your slices, focused your fileting, and pinpointed your precision.

For the greater good, you reminded yourself as your watch beeped ten, and you spun the small knife in your palm before sheathing it in your boot. Your specific target of the night finished early every other week on Thursdays, hence your change in schedule today. In fact, a good few of them did. You assumed it had something to do with specific shipments on the warehouse floor but you didn’t bother yourself with the details. You knew his schedule now. You’d been watching for weeks. And you had every single detail of his various ways home. He was a bus-taker. Though, to avoid you, he’d been taking different numbered busses to other parts of town, before heading home. But the moron used the same three in rotation. There was no cause to wonder why he worked in a warehouse…

Although you had a good feeling about this one. You’d already scored one victim of the night, who was currently unconscious in your chosen location. You were one hundred per cent sure he knew what you were looking for, and you had a fantastic feeling about this one too.

Standing from where you’d been lounging against a rooftop balcony, you stretched your arms high above your head, listening to your bones and joints crack slightly before securing the steel mask over your features, cursing the phantoms of your past for providing you with such memorable makeup, and, shrugging the hood of your short-sleeved jacket over your head. Your hands dipped into the various sheathed across your waist, double checking the various blades in your belt. You were thankful you never needed to go through any kind of metal detector, because it would likely take you the rest of the night to remove every weapon dotted about your body, from the little holsters on your biceps to the sheathes in your boots, to the retractable blades in the bracers on your wrists. A wise woman once said you can never have too many knives.

A phrase you really should copyright before anyone else claims it.

Five past ten. Go time. Taking a few steps back, you broke into a sprightly run, leaping like a dexterous cat across the rooftops, every step measured in surety. You’d done this too many times to start second-guessing yourself now, and it wasn’t like you were a stranger to the city’s rooftops and sketchy alleyways before you started doing this. With little effort, you crossed blocks in a matter of moments, skipping over crowds and traffic like it was child’s play before you landed with a deft roll above the side street tonight’s victim would take in a matter of five minutes.

Like you said. Child’s play

You crouched low, removing the serrated knife from your belt, and flicking it in your palm over and over. It was a habit you’d developed when waiting in anticipation for something. It kept your hands occupied whilst your mind focused on the events to come, picturing exactly how you wanted things to play out. It was difficult. Capturing and torturing these assholes was like shooting fish in a barrel.

“Fourth clear, no signs of our guy.”

You ducked low on the rooftop, an unpredicted obstacle walking into view wearing some shitty leather getup, fingers delicately perched at the side of his horizontal glasses. Though they weren’t exactly glasses. How would you describe it? Eye-guard? Some weird single glass as opposed to glasses? Whatever the fuck they were, you didn’t exactly want to find out what they did. He was holding them as if they were some kind of weapon.

Shit, this really wasn’t good. If he didn’t move on now, you’d have to take him out and risk alerting your victim to your presence. Fuck, fuck and fuck again. And just as luck would have it, Alec appeared at the other end of the alleyway, nervously looking about before entering hurriedly. People didn’t watch enough movies. Did they really not know that entering dark alleyways with a killer on the loose was practically the same as signing your own death certificate? In any case, this actually worked in your favour. With Mr Visor patrolling the other end, you sliced open your hand, your blood humming as you pulled it from your veins to wrap around the metal drainage pipe before you swung off the rooftop, the crimson rope twisting and writhing as if it were alive as you descended, landing quietly a few paces behind him.

Now, if he wasn’t on such high alert, he would have most likely chalked the slight thud of your landing to the sound of a street cat, or perhaps a fox. But the way Alec jumped with a yelp, staggering as he turned to face you, didn’t exactly scream discreet. You held your hand up in front of you, contorting your fingers as your mutation felt for his pulse, slowing down the blood flow in his veins as quickly as you could. Not fast enough, a strangled yell flew from his now pale lips, and you swore viciously as your latest obstacle jogged back into view between the alleyway’s walls.

“Shit, HE’S HERE!” He called to nobody you could see, and you barely had time to duck before a searing red beam of pure energy shot above your head, illuminating the dingy street in the crimson glow. You thought it slightly ironic, as your knife slashed through the palm of your hand, the colour of his mutation and who he was up against. Curving your arm in a wide arc, you manipulated your own blood cells into a wide blade, propelling it forward whilst you took a few steps toward your now collapsed victim. With Glasses now distracted by what you assumed was him discovering your own mutation, you felt around his veins for his heartbeat, tracing the blood flow back until you found the source, and you poured all your energy into slowing that one too.

“He can manip… manipulate bl… blood.” Once again he spoke aloud to nobody you could sense, his knees giving out before he crashed to the floor. You huffed out a breath, fishing a small bandage from the pouch on your belt before wrapping up your hand and pulling the tie tight with your teeth. The one thing you found frustrating about your mutation was your inability to heal. How fucking helpful that would be, if every time you had to slash yourself open, you could just reseal the wound? Instead of running the risk of bleeding out. But you guessed everything had its drawbacks. Even blood manipulation.

You bent to pick up Alec’s ankles, dragging him a few feet back the way he came, before you stopped, and looked back to the unconscious mutant at the alley’s mouth. You should kill him. Things would be easier if you did. And so, dropping your victim’s feet without much care, you strode over, finding a small gap in the wrappings around your palm, you extended a small spear from your flesh with the intention of jabbing it through his head and silencing what he saw here forever.

But there were little voices calling out from a small earpiece nestled in his ear canal. You tilted your head, plucking the bud from the side of his head and holding it up to your own ear.

“Scott? Scott can you hear us?!”

“We’re tracking your location, hang tight!”

“I’m en route, stay alive asshole.”

A kaleidoscope of voices blended together, though the last one had you dropping the earpiece and crushing it with the heel of your boot. Someone was coming. A big someone. Someone whose voice you really hoped didn’t match his body.

You should kill him. You really should kill this Scott guy, but something about the concern and fierce loyalty of those in the earpiece stopped you. This man was loved. He was cared for. Most of your victims didn’t have anyone. No family, very little friends, and all with some kind of penchant for criminal activity. Alec, for example, was finding himself becoming a little too familiar with the gates of a primary school. The more you watched him, the more you found yourself utterly repulsed by the way he would try and get the attention of those kids. Those children.

But Scott had people who would care if he died. And so you let him be, pulling and pushing him upright against the wall before jogging back over to your actual victim and resuming your strained attempts to drag him off to your chosen location for the night.

An ancient, local church, ironically enough.

Logan raced through the streets, across busy roads and through closed parks, leaping over fences and gates effortlessly. He knew Scott’s location, Jean begging him over coms to do what he could. He was still alive, The Professor could sense it, but how the mission had immediately gone south, he had no idea. But at least Scott was still alive. At least, he was for now.

“SCOTT!” He called, slowing his steps as he closed in on his location, his claws sliding from his knuckles. The metallic scent of blood flooded his senses, but it wasn’t Scott’s. He knew what Scott’s blood smelled like, having punched him in the nose a few times for the scent to be memorable. No, this blood was new, unfamiliar, and reeked of mutation. Which he supposed made sense.

Blood manipulator. That was the last thing Scott had said before he fell silent and before his channel died completely. And stalking up to the mouth of the alleyway, he could see why. Scott’s earpiece lay crushed on the concrete, little pieces scattered across the floor. Peering into the alleyway, Logan’s heart raced as his eyes cut through the darkness to find Scott himself lying slumped against the wall, his head hanging low. Logan bent to one knee, placing two fingers against the side of his neck to feel his slow yet strong pulse. The same pulse that would be associated with someone unconscious. But there was no head wound. Nothing to indicate he’d been completely knocked out.

“Is he–”

Logan looked back to see Ororo landing behind him, her hair slightly wild from the wind. She must have flown her way over, avoiding the nightlife altogether.

“He’s alive. Unconscious, but alive. You heard what he said, right? Blood manipulator. I think our guy must have slowed his heartbeat or somethin’. There’s no wound anywhere…” Logan gently moved Scott’s head in search of any kind of blunt force trauma but found none. Not that he was expecting to find anything, since the only blood he could smell was unfamiliar. And it lead right down the alley and out the other side. “Gonna need ya t’stay here, Storm. Make sure Scott’s alright.” He kept his eyes focused on the darkness ahead, and the small sliver of light beyond.

“And where’re you going?” Ororo asked, crouching beside him as if to physically demonstrate she’d stay with Scott. Logan sniffed the air again, almost able to see the blood trail the scent was so damn strong.

“Followin’ our man. We don’t know if he bagged his victim, but if he was here with Scott, then he was after Alec, and I don’t see him anywhere, do you?” He asked, raising a brow to the woman by his side, who shook her head.

“No. And I didn’t see him from above either. Alright, you go. But be careful, Logan. He’s unpredictable and now we have an idea as to how dangerous. If he can knock Scott out cold like this, he shouldn’t be taken lightly,” Ororo implored, watching as he rose from his crouch. Logan huffed an irritated sigh, having to restrain himself before he rolled his eyes.

“I’ll be fine. Look after Cyclops.” Was all he said, before taking off down the alleyway at a light jog, following his nose and turning left at the end.

“Logan, this isn’t a good idea. You can’t charge into the unknown with no information other than blood-manipulator.” Jean’s voice echoed in his ear, and he once again felt his lips pull up into a small smirk.

“Why, you worried about me?” He provoked, chuckling when he heard her deep sigh, pinching the earpiece between his thumb and forefinger. “I’ll send up a flare if I need ya.”

“Logan don’t–”

Whatever Jean was about to say was lost when he tossed the coms unit onto the ground, leaving it and all methods of communication behind as he continued on toward his target. He couldn’t believe his eyes when his nose led him to a looming church, stained windows dark from the inside, spires towering high into the night. This couldn’t be right. Either his nose had failed him, which was unheard of, or the killer had a wicked sense of humour. It must have been the latter, the stench of blood increasing tenfold as he crossed the neatly mowed lawn outside, taking the stone steps two at a time and up to the wooden double doors.

His ears twitched as he caught distant screams from inside, deep enough that anyone passing by would be completely oblivious to any goings on within. Once again, he released the hold he had on his claws, razors slicing through his muscles and flesh as they slid from his knuckles. He took a breath, bracing a hand on the centre of one of the doors before he pushed slightly, the hinges’ echoing screech causing him to freeze, letting the sound settle before he moved. The screams continued, and as sick and twisted as it was, he used that to gauge whether or not he’d been heard. So far, remarkably, so good.

Stealth wasn’t his strong suit. Never was, but he cursed every heavy footstep that bounced off the wooden beams and stone walls, even the stained glass seemed to be mocking him, some ridiculous depiction of a halo-wearing baby with the proportions completely incorrect, being carried by an equally disproportionate-looking woman who seemed to be bathed in holy light. Once upon a time, he may have found comfort in the frieze. Now he simply thought it ridiculous. How could there be a god when mutants like him walk the earth? When mutants like this killer were allowed to wander around completely free?

He shook his head of the thoughts. Now was not the time to contemplate divinity. If he wanted to discuss religion, he’d have a conversation with Kurt. He followed his senses, down the aisle between the pews and up to the lectern, his head snapping to the right and through the door to the sacristy. Once again measuring his steps, Logan crossed the altar and into the shadows behind the pillars, that same coppery scent of blood lingering on the slightly crimson-stained doorknob, the faint smokey smell of mutation told him this was the killer’s blood. Had the victim fought back somehow? He assumed he’d done the same thing to them as he had to Scott, knocked them out before dragging them away.

Shoving the door open, Logan took a moment to look around. Nothing much, other than a large closet, a chest of drawers and a small bathroom sink with a mirror. A rug covered a large portion of the floor, the patterns almost psychedelic in nature, but this was where the scent was strongest so far. Here, in this room. Then where the hell was all the screaming coming from? He could still hear it, in the distance, beyond several walls of stone, or deep beneath–

Logan paused, his eyes flickering from the bare walls to the rug on the floor, one corner ever so slightly raised from the ground. With determined curiosity, he tugged on the fabric, pulling it back from the ground before tossing it completely into a corner. There, now revealed, a wooden trap door. He couldn’t help but think it was a little cliché, to have a trap door leading down to some kind of torture chamber, but if the chosen location told him anything, it was that the killer had a flair for the dramatic.

To hell with stealth at this point. Logan crouched, gripping the large brass handle and throwing up the door so it clattered loudly against the floor. He was glad he had excellent vision, as the darkness beyond would be enough to turn away even the bravest of souls. And yet, here he was, taking step after step down into the pitch black, his eyes reflecting what little light there was. Perhaps the setting was more fitting than he originally thought because it truly felt like he was descending into the pits of hell with each careful step. The scent of blood now fused with the acrid scent of urine, and the musk of sweat. It was enough to have him almost gag, but he kept on going, led by the sounds of broken screams.

Until those broken screams were cut viciously short.

Logan stopped in his tracks, bracing a hand against the damp wall, a crippling sense of failure weighing heavy on his shoulders. He hadn’t been fast enough, and now Alec was likely dead. He couldn’t think of another reason why the killer would just cut off his screams like that. But what unnerved Logan further, was that now one voice had been silenced, another was rising up the dark, dank tunnel. There were two. The motherfucker had managed to grab two victims in one night. What the fuck was he using them for? Why torture them? What was he looking for?

A pinprick of flickering light teased him from the distance, the literal light at the end of the tunnel winking in the distance. How far down had he gone for the exit to only now be visible? Had this guy really dragged two bodies down these stairs already today? A picture was forming in Logan’s mind. He had to have some kind of muscle on him to be able to carry weights such as these. But he couldn’t let himself get comfortable in his predictions. That would only lead to chaos. So he kept his mind open, the only thing he was fairly sure about was the fact this killer was a man.

Not that a woman couldn’t be capable of this kind of thing, but he’d seen the size of some of the victims. Either she was some kind of bodybuilder or a man. One seemed more likely than the other.

He felt like he’d been in this stupid fucking tunnel for years by the time his eyes needed to adjust to the flickering torchlight, the steps levelling out to a long, claustrophobic stone hallway, the low arch of the ceiling barely high enough for him to stand up completely straight, the tips of his brushed up hair lightly brushing the damp brickwork. He continued creeping forward, a cone of more flickering torchlight illuminating a doorway ahead of him and to the right.

The secondary voice gurgled another agonised scream, and Logan felt a decent amount of urgency fuel his steps, half jogging the remaining feet up to the archway, peering around the stone.

His stomach clenched, eyes widening. Well, that would show him not to make assumptions. The killer wasn’t a man.

You were a woman.

The two victims were strapped to chairs, back to back, a knife in the mouth of one, the other’s head– Alec’s head, hung limp. In the lap of the other, you held a map, blood dripping from both your palms.

“Point.” You spat, delivering a harsh slap to the side of his face. “And so help you, your answers better match up.”

With shaky movements, your captive craned his neck down, pointing the quivering tip of the knife against a random point on the map you’d lay in his lap, tears flowing down his face as he whimpered in utter terror. Logan watched as you raised your hand over Alec’s head, contorting your fingers as he groggily returned to consciousness. He couldn’t see his face before, and Logan would spend a long time wishing he could return to that ignorance. Two dark, bloodied holes replaced the sockets where his eyes should be, tears of sanguine had rolled down his cheeks, staining his flesh until it bled into the exposed muscle of his cheek.

“Finally, we’re getting somewhere.” You took a step back, snatching the map from your second victim and drawing a circle with the bloodied tip of your finger. After so many deaths, the cacophony of screams that kept you awake at night, finally you had a lead. “And what is it exactly th–”

You stopped, your nerves alight with alert.

Logan whipped back behind the archway, pressing his spine against the wall and keeping his breathing steady. He didn’t hold out hope you hadn’t seen him, and he was incredibly thankful for that, clenching his fists when your voice echoed in the expanses of the chamber.

“I can feel it. The mutation in your blood. Scott’s friend, I assume?”

With a long sigh, Logan stepped out from behind the archway and into the light.

“Friend is a strong term. Associate.” He responded, his eyes flickering to each of your palms as crystals of crimson extended from the two wounds in your flesh, taking the form of jagged blades. Your head tilted to the side, hood shifting slightly for the light to catch your eyes.

“Scott’s associate…” you mused lowly, striking out with surgical precision to the two captives, keeping your wince locked away as your two blades crunched through their skulls with a sickening squelch.

Logan clenched his jaw, keeping his chin held high. “No explosions this time? Entrails seem far too organised for you.”

“A fan of my work? Sorry, I don’t tend to do meet-and-greets. Although I’d be willing to sign your corpse for you.” You held your blood blades tight in your palms as you bent your knees. You wouldn’t be getting out of here without a fight. And whilst you could feel the mutation in his blood, you had no idea what it was exactly that he could do. The claws were an obvious giveaway, but was that it? You’d come to learn to put all assumptions to the side and be prepared for anything.

Years on the streets had taught you that.

“Why?” Logan asked, taking a steadying breath.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Why?” He repeated with just as much conviction. “Why do this? What’re you looking for? Why’re you doing this?” He watched you falter slightly as if genuinely taken aback that he was interested enough to ask. “You coulda killed Scott, but you didn’t. Y’not afraid of causing pain, but you left him unharmed. Why?”

Too many thoughts were running through your head. Truthfully, you didn’t want to admit that you couldn’t. He had nothing to do with this, and whilst yes he got in your way, he was innocent. None of these people were. None of your victims were. Least of all, you.

“Why ask? Did you want me to? Yikes, that’s some rivalry you got there.” You deflected, twirling one of your blades in your hand. “Tell ya what, I’ll finish the job for you, free of charge.” You grinned behind your mask, taking a step toward him, dragging the tips of your crystalised blood blades along the ground, leaving little crimson trails as you walked.

“Got a lotta lip, ya know that?” He growled, watching you like a hawk as you slowly stalked forward, step by careful step.

“If only you knew the trouble my mouth gets me into…” You paused for a moment, crouching low. Anticipation crackled in the air, sparks of adrenaline igniting the room before you launched forward, keeping low to the ground.

Logan tracked your movements, bending his knees and bracing his claws in front of his body before your blades cracked against his, literal sparks flying from the contact point as you stay low, your other hand braced against the floor, leaving bloodstains on the stone. Your leg swept toward his, and he wrenched his claws from where they’d tangled with your blades, taking a quick step back to avoid your jab.

Using your momentum, you pushed off from the ground, spinning upright just in time to parry a slice from his claws, your blood thrumming with the impact. He was strong. Really fucking strong. Annoyingly strong, in fact. You hated having to manipulate the vessels and cells within your body, but the moment his fists arced down toward you, you had no choice but to increase the blood flow to your biceps, wincing slightly as they shuddered and flexed in response, but it was just enough to catch him off guard, your two blades crossed between his six claws.

You didn’t let the moment linger, delivering a harsh kick to the centre of his stomach and using the almost rock-like surface to send yourself a few steps back, sweat already trailing down the inside of your mask.

Logan bent double, grunting in discomfort before lowering into a similar crouch to your own, watching closely as your blades dragged along the ground once again, leaving little slices of crimson. You raised your head in challenge, the flickering torchlight catching two sparks of sanguine red eyes, pulsing slightly as your mutation shimmered from your hands, veins bulging up your wrists. Something tugged at his chest, and he stilled for a moment. It looked almost… painful. The way he could see every pulse of your heart thumping within those bloodborne blades.

His head tilted to the side, and you felt discomfort crawl over your skin. Was he… studying you? In the middle of a fucking fight? And not the ‘I’m studying you to see your next attack’ kind of way. You grit your teeth, irritation flaring in your gut as you launch forward, anger and frustration now fuelling your movements. How dare he. How dare he try to read you like this. He didn’t even fucking know you. But the way his features slackened slightly, the ever so small tilt of his head. You wanted to tear him to ribbons.

Logan shook himself from his thoughts as you surged forward, once again bracing himself for the flurry of swipes he could sense was coming his way. Only–

You ducked to the side.

Your blades retracting back into your palms as you slid past him, grazing the centre of your hand against the floor in a wide arc. What the hell were you doing? What the fuck was with all the acrobatics. You’d done nothing but flip and spin around him, barely going in for any hits. He whirled around, claws still held before him in closed fists, but you looked… done.

Like you’d already won.

“Well, this has been a pleasure. But I’m afraid I’m a very busy woman,” you paused, placing a hand on your hip as if you were having a casual conversation in a shopping centre. “And you’re wasting my time.”

Logan barely had time to think before the bloodstains on the ground shifted, and in every place you’d dragged your palm across the stone, a sharp spear shot from the marks towards him, impaling through his suit and into his chest, his legs, back, and shoulders with a sick, wet crunch.

Through agonising pain, he finally understood what you were doing. Setting up a fucking trap. Any attempt to move resulted in tearing fire through his body, a rough cry of pain flying from behind his gritted teeth, before it became too much as he sank to his knees. Your sigh almost sounded disappointed, and he watched through hazy vision as you brought out a bandage from your belt and started to wrap up one of your palms with a slight hissed wince.

You’d expected him to be dead by now, and yet somehow he was still clinging to life like a tenacious limpet. An irritated huff warmed the interior of your mask as you flicked your unbound hand, another jagged spear of ruby sailing from your palm and through the centre of his stomach, wrenching another agonised cry from his throat.

“Fucking hell… still here? Most would be dead by now.” You folded your arms across your chest, wandering over to where he was still bent double on his knees, heaving rasped breaths.

“Most of ‘em can die.” He snarled back, his strength slowly returning as his regeneration worked overtime to remove the whipping spears from his body. You watched as they shifted in response to the resistance, fascination curling like smoke in your head. What the hell was this guy?

“And you can’t, I presume?”

“Nope. Not yet, at least.”

“Huh,” you shrugged, your eyes flaring as you wormed those tendrils back through his flesh, something twinging in your chest as you did so. “That’s… unfortunate,” you crouched in front of him, running your fingers along one of the tendrils of blood holding him still, your eyes falling to the little X symbol on his leather collar, recognition striking you like lightning. “Wait… I know you. You’re one of Xavier’s, right? Never thought he’d meddle in simple human murders,” you thought for a moment, regarding him. “Doesn’t it bother you? Being nothing but a weapon to him? Just a gun to point at the enemy whilst he’s the one who claims the victory?” You provoked, finally garnering a response as he all but growled at you, bloodied teeth bared. You had half a mind to use his own blood to sew his mouth shut, but you were curious about him. A mutant who couldn’t die, running around playing soldier for someone who would never walk the battlefield himself.

Sure he should be the one pulling the strings.

Logan knew you were trying to get under his skin. Metaphorically, of course. Physically, you’d already achieved that, the sharp bolts of agony with every slight movement told him that much. But he needed to get under yours.

“I know what these people did,” he breathed, chest searing with each fiery inhale. “The ones you choose. I know why you kill them, but why torture them?” He continued through gritted teeth, tugging against the lashing spears through his body.

“You think that’s what this is? Me cleaning up after this world’s scum? I should add myself to that lengthy list.” You growled back, gesturing wildly to the walls around you. “These people know something. The fact they’re all child predators is simply luck. But don’t you think it’s strange? An orphanage burns down and none of the bodies are found?”

Logan stopped his struggle. “What…? How d’you–”

“Nothing. Not even skeletons. Doesn’t that make you wonder where the hell those kids went? The disappearances throughout the city, all kids. All mutant kids.” You could see the cogs turning in his head as he processed what you were saying, and what it meant.

“Y– you’re looking for information…” He muttered with understanding, and you nodded.

“The men at that warehouse… they’re always hanging around schools and –before it burnt down– the orphanage,” your eyes flickered to stairs beyond the archway, and the distant shouts echoing down the hall. “It’s a slave trade. A mutant slave trade.”

“How d’you know?”

“I… I can’t tell you that.” Something twisted in your gut as his expression shifted to something softer, despite the obvious pain he was in. You didn’t want to hurt him. It was a sudden realisation that you’d acted too hastily. Assumed he was here to eliminate you after the series of events you’d caused. But you should have known the moment he started asking questions. Sure, he was probably here to put a stop to what appeared on the surface to be a sequence of grizzly murders, but he’d asked. He wanted to know why. Not many others had done that. And there was something else flickering in his strikingly haze eyes.

He didn’t want to kill you. Not now he knew.

Your head whipped back to the archway, where those distant shouts had increased in volume and, terrifyingly enough, proximity. You could clearly catch the repeated calls of a name. His name.

Logan.

“Look, if you want to help, there’s a gala happening at Thornbury Hall, west of the city. Saturday the 18th. Meet me there or don’t, it’s your choice. But you come alone. I’ll know if you don’t.” You hissed hurriedly, flicking your fingers to withdraw the countless spears from his body, and he screwed his eyes shut as his wounds immediately began to knit back together, muscle and tissue reforming with an unbearable itch, the crystalised blood liquifying once again, staining the stone red.

“Logan?!”

Your breath quickened as you looked back to the archway, and Logan could just see the fear reflecting in your barely visible eyes as you took a few steps back. He wanted to stop you. Wanted to tell you that you didn’t have to take this on alone. They could help. He could help. And there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he wasn’t going to take the olive branch you’d just extended.

“How’ll I know it’s you?” He asked as he stood to his feet, eyes narrowing in suspicion despite himself. He hadn’t seen your face. Just two scarlet eyes behind a rather unnerving, featureless mask. Your head flipped between looking at him and looking past him to the archway skittishly, hurried footsteps growing louder as his other associates honed in on your location.

“When you get there, look for a man with a runic tattoo on his neck and ask for Alecto.” You explained, continuing backing up into what looked like just a regular wall. But the greatest thing about ancient buildings such as this was the secret little entrances and exits installed for servants, refugees. Criminals.

“Alecto?” You couldn’t help but huff a small laugh at the slight smirk on his face, the amusement lacing his tone despite your efforts to try and kill him not moments ago.

“Look it up.” Was all you said, before slipping through one of the cracks in the wall the moment he turned around as two other mutants rushed through the archway. You barely caught sight of Scott and the other before you were gone.

“Logan! What the hell? You can’t just go dead like that, what happened to your coms?” Storm ranted before falling silent, panic entered her eyes as she registered the state he was in. “What… what happened to you?”

Logan looked back to where he’d last seen you, finding an odd kernel of relief to see you’d completely vanished into seemingly thin air. “I found our gal. Put up a good fight. Slipped out when she heard ya comin’ and I was immobilised.” He shrugged nonchalantly as if he hadn’t just let the very same killer they’d come here to hunt slip away.

“She– wait, she?” Scott asked, clearly having recovered from whatever Alecto had done to him.

“Yeah, she,” he nodded, before sighing heavily. “Look, no point in standin’ round here ‘n chattin’ about it. Charles is gonna wanna know what I know.”

“And what is it exactly that you know?” Scott asked, suspicion lacing his tone, his arms folding across his chest almost in accusation. Logan rolled his eyes.

“A helluva lot more than you, Slim. Let’s go.”

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hyunjins-orange-slice-too · 3 days ago

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Omg can I please get husband!bangchan x fem!reader plsplspls. My scenario is basically reader is stressed and can’t stop studying (uni) and bangchan sees that and helps her relax. (Daddy kink and praise plsplspls)

let me help you relax

pairing: daddy!husband!chan x fem reader

genre: smut with feelings

word count: ~1.3k

warnings: daddy kink, praise kink, tiny bit of size kink, unprotected sex, implied subspace, i think that’s all.

an: i’m finishing this and posting it while im half asleep so im sorry for any mistakes or if it’s absolute trash. but i’ve been feeling particularly feral about him today and he’s been on my mind. so here’s some daddy!chan for you. ♡ love ya.

masterlist • consider leaving me a tip

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your eyes were betraying you. they burned, closing of their own accord, begging for rest. you reached for your coffee, an empty energy drink can falling to the floor. you needed to study more. it’s finals time and you’re stressed. the exam you have tomorrow could make or break your degree. you stomach churned at the thought.

“baby, why don’t you take a break?” your husbands voice approached from behind, his hands gently resting on your shoulders. you were on edge and he wasn’t helping.

“oh that’s rich, coming from you.” you snapped. and you realized your mistake immediately. his grip on your shoulders tightened ever so slightly. it would have been imperceptible to anyone who didn’t know your dynamic. but his voice is what gave you chills. it changed from sweet and doting, to serious. “oh really?” he said. you weren’t looking at him, but you could visualize his expression in your mind. he had at least one eyebrow raised, maybe both. it was the type of look that said: is this really how you want this to go?

and it wasn’t. you didn’t like being a brat. you were just stressed. “i’m sorry, daddy.” your shoulders slumped with exhaustion. “i didn’t mean to snap at you. i’m just under a lot of pressure.”

“i know you are, baby.” he said, his hands on your shoulders starting to massage the knots out. “you’ve been studying so hard.” his hands felt amazing and you started to relax in his hold. he hummed a sweet sound and then placed a kiss on the top of your head. one of his hands started to snake around your shoulder and down under the neckline of your pajama top. “i think it’s time for a break.” he said, his fingertips finding your bare nipple. “don’t you?”

your breath caught in your throat and you nodded, all thoughts of exams lost. he was pulling you deeper and deeper into that soft, fuzzy space that you loved so much. he knew exactly what to do to get your mind off of things.

his other hand tilted your chin up, so you were looking at him. he was upside down, but that didn’t matter. he kissed you gently anyway, before pulling away and helping you stand. he led you from the desk, to your shared bed, pulling your top over your head along the way. your legs hit the bed frame and you let your body fall back onto the mattress. you pulled him down with you, your hands wrapped around his neck. he chuckled against your lips as he kissed you, his hands wandering.

“baby’s been working so hard.” he said, kissing down your jaw to your neck. he nibbled at the sensitive skin there, mumbling his words. “let daddy take care of you. let me help you relax.”

his fingertips found the top of your shorts and began dancing in and out of the material, teasing you. his lips travelled further down, his breath warm against your skin, as he took your nipple into his mouth.

“yes daddy.” you panted.

his tongue swirled around your hard nipple, his teeth grazing it ever so slightly. his hand finally went under your shorts and started playing with your most sensitive area. he tugged gently on the small amount of hair you kept. “mmm..” he hummed. “daddy’s gonna make you forget all about school baby..” his kisses were wet against your nipple. “gonna fuck you till your heads empty.. yeah?”

little did he know, your head was already empty. your mind was cloudy with nothing but him. his smell, his taste, the feel of his hard body against your soft one. he rutted his clothed erection against your thigh, groaning deeply.

he moved his tongue across your chest to your other nipple as he slipped a finger inside your wet hole. your hands balled in the sheets. you wanted to beg him for more, please more, but you couldn’t find the words.

“pussy’s so wet baby..” he mumbled around your nipple. “perfect little pussy.. wants daddy’s cock so bad, huh?”

your answering moan told him he was right, and he slipped another finger inside. he needed to prep you at least a little bit. he kissed his way back up to your lips, letting his tongue play with yours. you started to grab for his curls, to pull him closer, but he pulled away. you whimpered at the loss, pouting.

“don’t pout baby.” he said, poking your jutting bottom lip. “i’m just going to give you what you want.” he pulled his fingers out of you, and removed his shorts. that was the only thing he was wearing, a courtesy to you, as you told him you can’t focus on studying when he walks around naked everywhere. but now, you basked in his nakedness. stared at him and admired him. he truly was beautiful. and so incredibly sexy. he kicked his shorts to the floor and pumped himself in his hand a few times before kneeling between your legs.

he slid the head of his cock up and down between your folds, teasing your entrance and bumping your clit with every pass. “gonna let daddy stretch you out baby?” he asked. he smiled warmly down at you when you didn’t answer him. you just stared up at him with big, glassy eyes, silently begging him to fill you. “can’t talk, baby girl?” he cooed.

the tip of his cock slowly entered you, and he brought one of his hands up to cup your face. you turned your face toward his hand, finding comfort there. “here we go, baby. deep breath, okay?” you nodded and inhaled deeply through your nose. and as you slowly let it out through your mouth, he pushed until he bottomed out. it kicked the breath out of you at first and he knew to give you a moment before he started moving. “good girl baby. there you go. taking me so well.” he rubbed your cheek with his thumb, before slowly bringing that thumb to rub against your clit.

you whined under him, your body unable to hold still, it just felt so good. he started to move. started to thrust in and out of you, his length hitting that perfect spot over and over. “you’re so perfect, baby. daddy’s perfect girl.” his thrusts were getting faster now, your high quickly building. “that’s.. fuck.. that’s why i married you baby.” he grunted in between thrusts. “nobody takes daddy’s cock like you do, princess.”

you reached for him, trying to hold onto anything to help ground yourself. he gave you his hand. you gripped his smallest finger as he fucked you, his muscled chest and abdomen gleaming with sweat. “good girl, baby. hold onto daddy’s pinky.” your walls fluttered around him, your orgasm was right there.

“cmon baby.” his thrusts were harsh now, his skin slapping against yours as your arousal slipped down onto the sheets. “let go for me. squeeze my cock.”

you held onto his hand for dear life as your orgasm rocked through you, your body quivering with pleasure. “thank— thank you daddy.” you blabbered.

“fuck-“ he was starting to get sloppy, unable to control his hips when you felt so good cumming around him. “fuck- i love you baby. im gonna- fuck.. gonna cum.”

he stilled as he released inside of you, his cock twitching as he filled you up. your body fell limp against the mattress, and he reclined back on his heels. he pushed the damp hair out his face before looking down at you. you looked so fucked out, so happy. he smiled.

he leaned down and kissed you gently on the lips. your sleepy eyes fluttered open to look at him. he brushed your own hair out of your eyes and kissed the tip of your nose. “are you coming back to me now, baby?” he chuckled. “come back to earth, sweetheart.”

you smiled a dreamy smile at him. “love you.” you mumbled.

he said something else that sounded like “love you more.” before he climbed off the bed in search of something to clean you up with, but you were already drifting off to a very much needed sleep, dreaming of him.

your daddy.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

♡ pls reblog if you liked it! it truly helps a lot and makes me smile :) ♡

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

#emmy answers #stray kids #bang chan #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #bang chan stray kids #bang chan x reader #bang chan imagines #bang chan smut #bang chan x you #stray kids bang chan #stray kids smut #skz smut #hyunjins orange slice too

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msschemmenti · 1 day ago

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girl next door 🏠 - 3

a/n: forgot to post this on here my bad 🫣 saw someone ask about a taglist for this story— let me know if you wanna be added to that :)

“You just had to pick somewhere in town for dinner? You know how the traffic is on the weekend.” JJ grumbled as they finally pulled into the parking lot of a new restaurant in town.

“I only picked it because last time we went out you not so subtly mentioned wanting to try a new place. Plus you didn’t even have to drive. Now come on, our reservation is for 8 and we’re cutting it a little close.” Emily answered as the women both exited the car.

They made it into the restaurant and were almost instantly seated. Emily pulled JJ’s seat out for her in an act of chivalry that had always been there since they’d met and they both settled to look over their menus. As the two women decided on a bottle of wine they missed the younger woman seated just three tables away from them. Y/n sat with a grimace as she listened to her date drone on about her work life and ab routine.

This was her first date in the DC area and she was starting to regret letting Grayson talk her into this. She’d been single for a while and if Susan was any indication of the DC dating pool, she’d be single for way longer. She’d matched with Susan on a dating app and they talked for a few days before setting up this date. Susan was beautiful, no doubt, but that seemed to be the only thing she had going for her. She’d basically spent the entire evening talking about herself and it was not looking good. She’d been in the city for about a month and a half and all Grayson could talk about was her needing to get laid. As she sat and listened to the older blonde drone on, she was really trying to decide how important an orgasm was to her right now.

“It really has been such a tough year at the firm though. They’d really be lost without me.” As the words left Susan’s mouth and Y/n fought an eye-roll, the waitress serving the other table turned and bumped into the woman’s back.

The teen turned around with an apology on her lips, but the disgust on Susan’s face was clear as day. She grumbled out a response but turned to Y/n to complain. “I can’t believe they’d just hire anyone here. I think she dented my hair, I’m gonna go fix this mess in the bathroom.” Susan left the table and Y/n sighed. She was not worth the hassle. She pulled her phone out to shoot a text to Grayson.

y/n: this is the worst date i’ve been on… like ever

gray: oh it can’t be that bad. She was so hot.

y/n: well that’s all she’s got going for her. she’s in the bathroom right now fixing her hair because a waitress barely touched her.

gray: oh that is not hot… this is disappointing. you know you wouldn’t even be on this date had you already made a move on your sexy fbi neighbors.

y/n: gray get serious. they’re literally married to each other??? why would i make a move on either of them?

gray: well you and i both know you don’t just want to sleep with one of them. if you had it your way, you’d be sandwiched between both of them. which i think you could be, if you weren’t such a pussy.

Y/n huffed an exasperated laugh as she readied her fingers to reply. What she didn’t expect was to hear her name floating over her shoulder. She turned around in confusion and was even more surprised to see JJ leaning back in her chair with a smile. “JJ? Oh, Hi!” the younger woman responded hoping the low light was hiding the blush coloring her cheeks. She watched as the older woman got up from her table and came to lean against her chair.

“Hi sweetheart, what are you doing here? Are you alone?” JJ asked curiously. She chose to ignore the term of endearment that slipped from her lips, of course.

“Uh no. I’m actually on a date right now.” Y/n said gesturing to the other glass of wine across from her.

JJ’s eyes widened a bit in surprise and she couldn’t stop her eyes from roaming the restaurant for the potential date. Coming up with no leads she brought her eyes back to Y/n, “Oh really? And how is that going?”

Y/n looked around before whispering to the older blonde, “Terrible.”

JJ laughed cheekily as she gazed at the younger woman’s pout. Y/n shook her head in exasperation before grabbing the glass of wine she’d been nursing for the whole night. “I really hope this isn’t an indicator of how dating in DC is going to be for me. Where’s Emily?”

“Awe, they can’t be that bad, can they? She’s gone to the bathroom.” JJ said looking over her shoulder and seeing the brunette heading over to her. “Oh, here she is.”

“Jen, what are you– oh. Hi Y/n, what are you doing here?” Emily asked in shock allowing her hand to settle at JJ’s waist.

“She’s on a bad date. What took you so long?” JJ wondered as she rested her hand on Y/n’s shoulder unconsciously stroking the bare skin in comfort.

“Oh, that sucks. I got stuck waiting for this god-awful woman to finish fluffing her hair at the sinks. She was complaining about the incompetent staff knocking her coiffed hair out of place. God, I hate people like that.” At the older woman’s explanation, the younger of the three downed the rest of her wine with a grimace and sigh.

“Oh my god, is she your date?” JJ asked giddily.

“Unfortunately. She’s spent the entire evening talking about her law firm and ab routine, and then this happened. Now I must suffer through this evening and think of a way to ghost her.” Y/n whined.

“How did you end up with someone like that?” Emily wondered aloud.

“She didn’t seem like this when we matched. I’ve honestly been so shocked all evening. Trust, there won’t be any more dates after this.”

“Oh poor baby,” JJ started when she spotted a huffy blonde making her way over. “Looks like she’s coming back. We’ll be over there, just cough really loud or something if you need to be saved.” JJ winked, linking her hands with Emily’s and going back over to their table after Y/n nodded in understanding.

Once back at their table, both women couldn’t help but stare. “Well one thing for sure, she’s into women. And we seem to fit her type.” JJ smirked as she watched the younger woman nod along while her date rambled.

“And I’ll drink to that!” Emily grinned and she and JJ clinked their glasses together. Eyes still trained on their beautiful neighbor.

#emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds x reader #jennifer jareau x reader #jemily x reader #gnd series #msschemmenti

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cyb-by-lang · 3 days ago

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Cascade (part 2)

How about a bit more?

(Wherein Kei replaces Mineta's party slot again.)

You know, I feel almost like we should thank this League of Villains.

Oh? Why is that?

Because I’ve never fought someone careless enough to drop me in an armory before, and it’s kind of fun.

UA’s budget was the next best thing to unlimited, resulting in a training pool for flood rescue a dozen times the volume of the best-maintained Olympic water feature. And Kei—and therefore Isobu—had just been dumped into it. Sure, Midoriya and Asui were stuck in the water with her, and maybe Midoriya didn’t have a water-adapted Quirk, but the surface was only three meters away. Even if that was too much, and the water-adapted villains in the pool with them tried to strike, it didn’t matter.

Not compared to the power of a jinchūriki in her element.

With Isobu’s chakra following its favorite pathways through her body, Kei clapped her hands together and reached out.

Everything stopped.

The water went thick and almost gelatinous, molecules seizing almost perfectly in place across the entire volume of the pool. Though Kei could hear the villains’ garbled voices even as they shrieked in confused rage, she wrapped her power around herself and the two other students as a shield. At least one villain slammed headfirst into water gone solid and broke his hand.

And then Asui, swimming at top frog speed and making some of the sharkier villains look slow even with Kei’s watery speed debuff, wrapped Midoriya in her tongue and dragged him toward the surface. Perhaps because Kei shot her a thumbs-up, Asui did not feel the need to slow down in the slightest before Kei took control of the local water column and rocketed upward after her.

Once they breached he surface, Asui hurled Midoriya upward onto the deck of the ship serving as the training area’s centerpiece. Kei, landing on the surface of the water, shook out her hair before offering Asui a hand up.

“Water-walking, Gekkō-chan?” From about ankle-height, Asui grabbed Kei’s glove with a hand that dwarfed hers. Must have been a part of the frog mutation Quirk she had going on.

“Yep.” Sure, Kei didn’t really consider it a part of her Water-aligned ninjutsu repertoire, but that was the kind of distinction no one here cared about. “Let’s go.”

They got onto the ship with no further trouble.

Partly because water slowed down basically everyone, and partly because Kei was just barely holding back from crushing all of the villains still flailing around below the surface. She knew how water pressure worked. She didn’t care if they all died.

But someone might, so Kei refrained from preemptively removing child-murdering thugs from the mortal coil.

No one needed to know she considered it, anyway.

“Thanks, Gekkō-san, Asui-san,” was how Midoriya greeted them on the ship’s bow. Despite being waterlogged, he was otherwise fine.

“I told you to call me Tsuyu-chan, Midoriya-chan.”

“R-right, Tsuyu-chan!” There was no need to go around sounding like Asui was threatening him about her given name at knifepoint, but two days of class had already established that Midoriya’s overthinking tendencies and burgeoning anxiety disorder were on the louder side. “Th-thanks!”

Asui nodded, acknowledging her victory. She turned toward the railing, looking down toward the water, then said, “This isn’t looking good.”

“Yeah,” mumbled Midoriya, “and I just can’t get what that villain said out of my head.”

“You mean about All Might?”

“Right.” Midoriya pressed a hand to his mouth, just above the heavy-duty mouthguard that had barely survived the training exercise earlier this week. “They knew our schedule. Looking at the big picture, those guys must have set up the break-in earlier to get information. Like Todoroki said, they were waiting to pounce.”

“That’s alarming,” Asui said. One of the villains maybe dared to swim closer, but notably not in range of her long tongue and perhaps a subsequent lashing.”

“If those guys really think they have a way to defeat All Might,” Midoriya said, squaring his shoulders and clenching his fists, “then we should do everything in our power to stop them. By fighting…and winning!”

“I’m on board with it,” Asui said with a quiet ribbit.

“Same,” Kei muttered, already gathering chakra again for another attack.

“And the fact that they knew where to warp us means they’ve researched the USJ before now…”

“I was thinking the same thing! But while the villains clearly knew about the USJ, I think there’s a big gap in their information. Especially for a group that otherwise operated so meticulously.”

Kei hid a yawn behind her hand, then lifted the other to snap her fingers. All the water clinging to their costumes dispersed into the air as though shaken off by a dog.

“Th-thanks for demonstrating, Gekkō-san,” Midoriya managed, shuddering at the sensation. “But it also goes for Tsuyu-chan. If the villains realized what our Quirks were, they would’ve never sent both of you to the water rescue zone.”

Kei glared down at the water through her goggles. At least a dozen waterborne villains had surface, and her control of the pool indicated another half-dozen lurking underwater to ambush anyone who tried to swim for safety.

Actually, some of them looked like they were equipped for the job. Shark-Face notwithstanding, there weren’t as many obvious aquatic mutant Quirks on display as there could’ve been. One or two of them had spearguns in hand, like their expected opposition was just going to sit there and get shot. Or, rather, go into the water and get shot.

Not for the first time, Kei wanted a complete report of all the shit Catch-These-Hands down in the plaza must have gotten into when he disintegrated his way into the school. Obito hadn’t finished writing it. But since Kei’s chakra was as subtle as a sledgehammer, she could only assume he’d noticed the new problem from Nezu’s office and started to organize a response.

And if he wasn’t, Kei would find time in her schedule to yell at him.

“Our advantage lies in the fact that the villains don’t know what our Quirks are. None of them are trying to climb into the boat, which supports my hypothesis.” Midoriya’s determined look faded for a split second. “Um, Asui-sa—Tsuyu-chan’s Quirk is a given, but I didn’t get to see yours in action, Gekkō-san.”

Mainly because Midoriya’s match with Bakugō had been the first and only training exercise to send someone to Recovery Girl. He’d missed at least three after that. Kei distinctly remembered wondering where all of Midoriya’s compartmentalization ability had gone, given that he’d blown up his entire arm again. Thankfully, the school nurse was able to put this Humpty Dumpty back together after all.

“I know it’s water-based, too…”

“It’s called Tsunami,” Kei replied. She pressed her hands together again into the Dog seal. As her chakra surged, so did Isobu’s. “Which means I can create, control, and destroy all water around me.”

There was another brief pause. Midoriya looked like he couldn’t decide to laugh or cry. If Kei had just been told her job was to fight a bear and then informed her that the day’s allowed arsenal included a main battle tank, she figured she’d feel the same way.

“That simplifies the plan a lot, Gekkō-chan,” said Asui, blunt and sincere at once. “Thank you for telling us.”

“No problem.”

About a second later, one of the villains finally lost patience and created a giant hand made out of water to go on the offensive. It rose tall as though to chop the ship in half and drag everyone to a watery grave. Some of the villains even started giggling in anticipation.

Kei slid down the length of the bow until she was directly beneath the attack, raised one hand, and caught the blow with her fingertips as well as Isobu’s strength. The water construct felt solid enough as it made contact, but it bowed under their combined control and started to reshape itself into something blunter, scalier, and wonderfully familiar.

Best high-five I’ve ever pulled off.

The best so far.

Kei shook hands with her shoulder devil made manifest—hand to fingertip, at any rate—and sent their power wildly down through that point of contact like a dam collapse. Soon, more and more of Isobu’s hundred-meter body took shape in semitransparent form, dotted occasionally with screaming, terrified villains who suddenly realized they’d lost control of the plot. While there wasn’t enough water to manifest Isobu’s full size, what was there could fold the enemy’s aquatic fighters into its belly and keep them there for as long as needed.

And all the while, the demo ship sank lower and lower in the pool, away from the possibility of drowning or reaching the plaza without some help.

“How do you feel about surfing, Midoriya-chan?” Asui asked.

“I-I-I think positively?!” Midoriya grabbed the railing of the tossing ship hard enough to leave fingerprints in steel. It didn’t seem like he noticed.

“Then we’ll go with that. Hang on tight, please,” Kei said, and channeled still more energy into her grasp on the water.

#cascade #shell game #keisuke gekko #midoriya izuku #asui tsuyu #isobu #my hero academia #catch your breath fanfic #crossover

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alchemicalwerewolf · 17 hours ago

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I’ve finally gotten ok enough to tell this story so time to break out the Jeremy tales.

So basically the first thing that happened when I got to dance on Friday morning was this girl’s boyfriend came in with her breakfast and then in front of everyone was like oh hey btw I’ve been cheating on you with a 15yo for six months and imma leave you for her now. He was like nineteen. So ofc we’re all like

And the girl is like

And so then he leaves and that girl is crying and so a bunch of people are consoling her and the people who aren’t are warming up for dance and they were messing around and doing a lift we do like all the time where you kinda stand on each other’s hand and then they throw one person up and catch them. Well whenever they went to catch the girl they threw they slipped and so the girl landed on her head and like blacked out and I saw it happen and she was like twitching and then one of the girls started screaming for the teacher. And ofc I’m like

And then the teacher runs over and after a few minutes the girl woke up but she was like I don’t feel good and we were all like no fr she has a concussion and so the teacher called her mom and she went home and we went through class. But everyone is like uhhhh this day isn’t weird at all.

And then in tap someone’s tap shoe broke and they got a nail through their foot. And I was like oh. Blood. Let me just pass out now.

So then it was hip hop and we’d done warmups and were on a break so me and one of my dance friends Dylan were messing around doing flips and he was like ok let me try my Ariel which is like a cartwheel with no hands and he gets it sometimes but not always he’s still working on it so I was like ok do it. So I’m watching and his head was like super close to the floor so he put his hand down instead of doing it right but he put it down weird and I watched his arm just snap and he stood up and was like

oh my god I broke my arm I think and I was like

no duh it’s at a 90 degree angle you idiot

And it was like bleeding and it was horrifying but the shock and adrenaline made it where we were both super like calm seeming so nobody like payed any attention to us so I was like ok we need the teacher so we go over there and I’m like uh Dylan broke his arm and she was like what and then Dylan stopped holding his arm in place and it just like fell and she was like omg that’s insane so she called his mom and she was like fifteen minutes away so we’re all just like omg did that actually just happen and I’m basically the only one that isn’t Dylan that actually knew what happened so everyone was like crowdin me and asking about it but I’m like lowkey about to throw up because of what I saw

And so finally his mom gets there

and takes him to the doctor and everyone’s like ok what do we even do now like is dance cancelled? And my teacher is like

If you run the dance really well

I’ll let you guys just chill until your parents pick you up.

so we all ran it straight up perfectly because like we have to and we’re all like omg there’s some weird vibes going on here so some kids went home early and then the rest of us are like flinging holy water and crap around because like what else do we do

And then I had to do contemporary and we had to do a big lift but for some reason the girl we were lifting twisted for no reason and so it made us impossible for any of us to catch her so then I managed to grab her shirt to slow her fall but she still hit the floor and got the wind knocked out of her.

And when I grabbed her shirt it yanked my arm, which I thought just made it sore for a moment

Yeah Jeremy I know, stupid thought. It dislocated my collarbone. And I was like ow but it’s ok I’ve done this before and it can’t possibly get any worse!

Another incorrect assumption. Found out today I partially tore a muscle in my back. Not enough that I need surgery but enough where I’m literally not allowed to dance for at least the next two weeks.

And also the only mildly comfortable position to be in looks something like this

Which for some reason people don’t appreciate it when you just randomly lay on your stomach in target.

So now I’ve taken unholy amounts of pain medicine

And this is how I feel.

@emmaspersonaldiary since you wanted me to do this lol

#jeremy jordan #The Jeremy tales #Alchem is in much pain #Alchem kinda wants to just not #Alchem has decided the pain is overriding all brain functions

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deiastormborn · 4 hours ago

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Gale of Waterdeep; A much needed look beneath the surface

Hey all. This is a script for the video I made in defense of Gale. I never had a place to put the text version of it anywhere else, but... if Tumblr isn't a good place for it, then what is?

Warning: Long Read!

________________________

Hi, my name is Stormborn. I’ve been playing Baldur’s Gate for some time, enjoyed it quite a bit. As much as I can appreciate every companion that the game has introduced, Gale of Waterdeep, a charming lil’ wizard, has caught my attention the most. At glance, he is this sarcastic happy-to-go man, always joking around, trying to do the right thing. But, the more you get to know him, the more you slowly uncover his trauma, as much as he, himself, is trying to deny it.

Honestly, I thought that Gale would be liked by many people, I genuinely expected him to be one of the most chosen companions, and one of the most romanced ones. But, to my surprise, I’ve been seeing him getting more hate than I anticipated. Some people call his way of speaking way too annoying and complicated, some people call him clingy and creepy, mostly due to the glitch that would skyrocket his approval of you, probing him to romance you. Genuinely, it is okay to dislike some companion in favor of the other one. But I could not get rid of the feeling that people just despise his guts unjustifiably.

One of the main reasons, besides the ones I covered earlier, is that people hate his ‘obsession’ with Mystra, the goddess of magic he happened to romance. I saw people complain that he just cannot stop talking about her, even while you romance him, and I can’t help but wonder if people were paying attention to his story at all. And I cannot blame them, as Gale always portrays his romance with Mystra as something so special, so unique, and as something to be proud of. But, let me explain to why you should be able to judge his story for yourself, rather than simply listen to what he is saying.

Gale is a talented wizard, so talented that he got attention from Mystra herself for his talent of channeling the weave. The story says that he is so powerful, that he could potentially destroy a whole village by basically sneezing in its direction. However, we all need to remember that he got attention from Mystra at the very, very young age. If I am not mistaken, the first time Mystra clawed onto him was when he turned 16. Ever since then, Mystra was feeding him all kinds of praise, prompting him to seek power, ensuring him that he can become Mystra’s chosen, and, mind you, *started romancing him ever since*. It is not a secret that Gale was not the first, however, if you really think of it, such revelation can seriously mess with a mind of a teenager. Not only it might boost the self-esteem, but also make him think that he is better than anyone else. And, I assure you, it is exactly what Mystra wanted. By giving him some form of attention, minimum affection, she had Gale on the hook. And Gale, as a boy obsessed with magic, who has been worshiping Mystra before he even met her, didn’t require much effort in getting hooked. But here comes the problem: as much as it is uplifting to get a praise from a literal Goddess of all magic, it is also as equally devastating to get any kind of critique or a cold shoulder.

Mystra was messing with his mind, making him feel like, no matter how well he does, he can always do better, as he has so much potential. With such authority, Gale would believe her. And it would make him always chase something more to impress her, rather than settle and appreciate what he has. It is also a reason to why the whole mess with the Orb began in the first place. People seem to call Gale power hungry, which, as any companion in the game, it is possible for him to go down that route. But they seem to forget one important detail: Gale thought that the Orb was a missing relic of Mystra’s magic, and he wanted to, yet again, impress her by bringing it back. Please remember that Gale was still a young adult, if not a teenager, when this happened. And it would all be resolved if Mystra would not shatter his self-esteem as much as she did. So, he made a mistake, and the Orb became his burden. And yet again, rather than explain this to her ‘chosen one’, she basically banished him, and left him with no answers for many years to come.

Gale isolated himself to keep people around him safe, with nothing but the books and the cat for the company. I think I do not need to mention on how that can play with your mind, too. But, in spite of all, Gale’s blind loyalty and obsession with Mystra kept him wanting for more attention, more answers, so he kept seeking more power, and more ways to get Mystra’s approval. At the day you first meet him, this is the first time he has been amongst people. Yet he still kept his jolly appearance, messing around with Tav, and appreciating everything that surrounds him.

I do not know if this is obvious just yet, but Mystra has basically groomed the kid. If we look at the very definition of grooming, Grooming is when someone builds a relationship, trust and emotional connection with a child or young person so they can manipulate, exploit and abuse them. And it is most prominent when it comes from the place of higher authority. I think I do not need to explain that, in the fantasy setting, there is no higher authority than the God or a Goddess. Yet, for one reason or another, this seems to not be taken serious. And I think I have an explanation as to why.

When you talk to Gale about Mystra, or when you let him talk about her first, he is still full of admiration, obsession, and the unending pride. There is still some bitterness lingering somewhere in him, yet it Is not as powerful as any other feeling he has towards her. I’ve noticed people basically hating him for saying something like ‘Yeah, I banged Mystra, that’s pretty cool, right?’. But think of it this way: wouldn’t Mystra *want* him to think that it’s ‘pretty cool’? And who are we to say that it was the real Mystra he had an intimate moment with? For all we know, she might have conjured an illusion, to satisfy him and feed into his ego. If the romance between them was as real as Gale thinks it was, do you really think Mystra would just abandon him with no answers for a mistake such as this? After all, Gale was young, and had barely any experience. All he had was wizards, such as him, or more powerful than him, and her. If she truly cared about putting him to a right path, rather than using him for her needs, the outcome would be ever so different.

I would also like to address that people do not think of it as a simple coping mechanism. Even if you look at the society these days, most of the time, when a man comes with a confession of, say, a woman taking advantage of him, it is often met with ‘wow dude, you got lucky’, rather than with a serious concern. Who are we to say that Gale, rather than simply try to reflect and recognize his relationship with Mystra as an illusion, didn’t just decide to get along with it and be proud instead? Even then, when you romance him further, he is slowly realizing that it was not as real as he once thought. In Gale’s own words: ‘there is no love between us. I was not the first, and I certainly won’t be the last’. Gale finally, ever so slowly, starts to understand that he was simply used by Mystra for his talent. Being a deity means that you are only powered by the followers you still have. It is in the god’s interests to keep people interested in them, or they will loose power. Using Gale, knowing he was an extremely skillful wizard, was in Mystra’s interests. She does not give him answers, but keeps him interested in her enough to keep him in her claws, spreading more words of her, attracting more people to follow her godhood. There was no real romance, she was interested in his power more than himself. And you can help him realize that.

But, with such dynamic comes a price, which also becomes more prominent when you play the game further: Gale never feels good enough. With the first chance he can sacrifice himself for a greater good, he takes it. He has no real appreciation of his life, he does not take it as something valuable. He is deeply depressed and traumatized. When a person moves away from the environment that scarred them, it can become extremely overbearing, difficult, and overwhelming. People also seem to act as if it is weird that, with any kind of hurt, Gale’s first reaction is to ‘blow himself up’. It doesn’t take much to know that he won’t do it if it were to mean that someone can get hurt, but he is saying that because, maybe, partially, he *wanted* to die. He has finally found appreciation amongst other people, who are not wizards like him, people who do not know him well, and people who do not want him to constantly be the best version of himself. He falls in love with Tav, because Tav is showing him kindness, and proving to him that he does not have to be someone that he is not to be loved. In that very vulnerable state, any kind of hurt or rejection hits you more. Not to mention that, the only time he ever says it, was after the night he spent with you. After he opened up, shared his fears, more of his past, even said out loud that, in truth, he does not want to die. He let himself be vulnerable, the most vulnerable he has probably been in years, so it is not a question of his ego being hurt: it is a situation where a man, who always kept to himself, has finally let someone in, and got hurt. I am sure one of us, at one point in life, said something like ‘well guess I go die’ as a joke. This is the only way Gale knows how to respond: joking about his pain. He does not mean it, but says it anyway, because it is the first thing that came to his mind. He has been a very reserved companion through the whole time, always seemed to know what to say, and he acted on an emotion after a very emotional night.

It is also a fact that, even while he is slowly realizing that Mystra used him, he does not mind dying because she asked him to do so. That does not only prove a point that Mystra does not have any real regards to him other than a tool, but also that she was using him for her own sake. With The Absolute getting more followers, her power also weakens. The Absolute is a threat, not only because of the infection and danger to mere humans, but also to her godhood. And who better to deal with it than the man she has so methodically conditioned to do as she wishes? You would think that, a goddess as powerful as Mystra, could try to take care of things on her own. And yet again, the only time Mystra ever gives him any answers, is when she needs him to be used. That is, yet again, a definition of the grooming.

Gale will do anything for a little bit of appreciation, anything to be noticed, and we cannot blame him. This is why you, a player, as a Tav, have a power in you to make him realize that he, as he is now, is valid. It is almost as if Gale forgot that he is such a talented wizard after all the stuff with Mystra. You, as a player, have it in you to remind him. And once you do, Gale slowly separated himself from Mystra as her ex-lover, and only answers to her as his deity. After all, she is a goddess of all magic, it will be hard to reject her entirely.

Victims of grooming or any kind of abuse often can’t let go of the person who harmed them. They will talk about them, they will mention them, they might even try to grasp onto good things, or make it seem like bad things that happened weren’t really all that bad. Combine that with a constant feeling of never being good enough, and not knowing a genuine kindness outside of his very small circle, and you have Gale. A charming, sarcastic, jolly Wizard, who is also as ever troubled.

Moving on to other topic that people seem to judge Gale for, is that, once a chance arrives, he starts grasping onto Godhood, wishing to become a God himself. It is also in that situation where he starts to say that he would have the power to completely overthrow Mystra. People seem to criticize him for his hunger for power, and also, altogether, call him ungrateful. I would like to add another opinion on that: while Gale is slowly realizing that he was being used, he went through all 5 stages of grief. But here comes the other one, that is mentioned much less: revenge. He wants to show Mystra that she was wrong about him. He wants to prove to her that, after all this time, he *was* good, if not better than her. On top of that, he is still trying to fix his never-ending self-esteem issues. While he is seeking godhood, he still thinks that, him, as he is now, will never be enough, and only by becoming God he can truly become worthy… of anything. If you romance him, he later apologizes to you, but also asks to let him explain to why the Godhood would be good for him, and you, as a couple. Gale wants to give you everything. The entire world. He wants to be the very best version of himself, for you, his lover. He thinks that he can only achieve that by becoming a God. He doesn’t realize that, maybe, without it, he can still be a valuable partner. He even talks to you about it, openly, saying that you deserve better. It is, yet again, in your power to remind him that you do not need him to be anything more than he is now. And, rather than with anger, he answers to you with a surprise. He truly, genuinely, can’t believe that you would take him as he is now. This is how deeply his trauma runs in his mind. And, once he finally believes you, this is where he finally calms down. This is finally when he accepts himself, and lets it all go. He is not repaired, but he is on his path towards healing. All because you, a player, convinced him, and reminded him of his value.

I think Gale’s approach towards things have deeply changed the perception of the players. Because he is in so much denial, people seem to just go along with what he says. He is proud of sleeping with Mystra - so people take it for what it is. Gale might not be your type, or even the most interesting companion to you compared to others, but I truly, genuinely think, that the hate he has received has been a little too much. Every companion has a burden, everyone expresses it differently, on their own pace. Gale has chosen the approach that makes the most sense in his situation. He is just a guy who was thrown into a mess made by the Goddess he worshiped at the young age. He is just someone who is trying to do good. And I hope that a small essay such as this helped and shed some light on his story.

Men can be groomed, they can be taken advantage of. I think it is our duty to also recognize it, and show a little patience. After all, Gale is not the first example of such abuse. And, sadly, won’t be the last.

Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HAnZHJtYkcg

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